 
# LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: LEGENDS

The sorceress Lusiradrol, exiled to human form thousands of years earlier from her life as the terrible black dragon, has awakened her Red Clan. The true dragons are ready to renew their ancient war to save the world, but they cannot do it alone. Unfortunately, the magi and the two races of men are far from ready to face the darkness unleashed by Lusiradrol.

The white dragon was made to banish her, one who could unite all beings of Light, but his return is not as any foresaw. Through a woman who guards his power and his spirit, he will be reborn. But will he be too late to save the world?

# Copyright Page

LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: LEGENDS

By

M. A. Nilles

Legend of the White Dragon is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters, names, places, or incidents to reality is pure coincidence.

Legend of the White Dragon: Legends

E-serial Copyright © 2009 by Melanie Nilles

E-book Copyright © 2010 by Melanie Nilles

Copyright © 2013 by Melanie Nilles

Cover Art

Copyright © 2013 by Paul Davies

Published by Prairie Star Publishing; Bismarck, North Dakota.

All Rights Reserved.

For information, contact Melanie Nilles at melanie_nilles@yahoo.com or online at www.melanienilles.com.

# Table of Contents

__________________

1:Jayson

2:Calli

3:Jayson

4:Makleor

5:Lusiradrol

6:Damaera

7:Calli

8:Jayson

9:Istaria

10:Dorjan

11:Vahrik

12:Calli

13:Calli and Jayson

14:Tyrkam

15:Makleor

16:Dorjan

17:Lusiradrol

18:Jayson and Calli

19:Jayson

20:Damaera

21:Calli

22:Istaria

23:Marjan

24:Calli

25:Shadow and Jayson

26:Shadow and Gaispar

27:Calli

28:Damaera

29:Calli

30:Gaispar

31:Makleor and Dorjan

32:Vahrik and Lusiradrol

33:Gaispar

34:Calli

35:Jayson

36:Vahrik

37:Marjan

38:The Stone of Arromefîrdra

39:Gaispar

40:Damaera

41:Jayson, Shadow, and Istaria

42:Dorjan

43:Jayson

44:Damaera

45:Shadow

46:Makleor

47:Jayson

48:Vahrik

49:Marjan

50:Lusiradrol

51:Shadow

52:Jayson and Lusiradrol

53:Istaria

54:Darius

55:Jayson

56:Gaispar

57:Istaria

58:Tahronen

59:Vahrik

60:Jayson

61:Istaria

62:Tahronen

63:Jayson

64:Gayleana

65:Lusiradrol

66:Jayson

67:Vahrik

68:Damaera

69:Gayleana

70:Vahrik

71:Jayson

72:Gayleana

73:Jayson

74:Istaria

75:Jayson

76:Jayson

Other Books

Author

# LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: LEGENDS

*

# Jayson

The shadow crept through his mind, colder than the approaching winter and blacker than the shoulder-length hair that sweat glued to his face and neck. He shivered and pushed aside the distraction to maintain the barrier.

He would protect Calli. Haiberuk's cleansing had left his feelings for her intact, despite the master's preaching never to form attachments. Haiberuk had allowed him that, and Jayson would not give it up.

The forces around him twisted with a sickening menace he recognized from his last encounter with Lusiradrol.

Daring to break part of his concentration from their barrier before the vault, he reached out through the colors of magic and discovered the truth. Darkness invaded the spectrum, black and vile, but not near them. Haiberuk and the others battled her at the sanctuary.

Jayson focused on the barrier with increased intensity, unwilling to allow her to distract him. The barrier wavered as others made the discovery.

"Hold it steady!" Jayson called out. "She seeks to divide our attention."

The barrier strengthened again.

Sooner than he expected, a pillar of flame flared and disintegrated on the crest of the hill facing them, leaving the woman standing in its place on the knoll. She stood as menacing as a dragon, dressed in black plated armor from head to foot and her black hair twisted and wrapped up off her slender shoulders.

Jayson watched her closely, pouring forth all his effort into maintaining the barrier around the vault of the sleeping Red Clan and setting an example for the couple dozen others standing before the entrance with him.

In a blink, Lusiradrol vanished and reappeared within a few feet of the invisible barrier. The smile on her black-red lips fixed on him. "So this is your secret." Her eyes scanned the arc of robed figures. "Your little friends cannot keep me out."

Jayson braced for the worst, prepared for any attack she might conjure. Instead, her smile crooked upwards with sinister mischief. "Just as the spells of Arronfel cannot."

Calli! No!

She struck at their barrier. Despite the fear and worry sprouted in him, he stayed in place and refocused his power. She attacked his weak point, but he must not give in.

The magic held.

Lusiradrol hissed. "If you keep me out, I will destroy them."

"You would destroy them anyway."

Her eyes narrowed, and she organized the magic into something he never felt before in their encounters. It grew in scope, eating away the varied colors of magic and leaving only a void. Was this the Darklord in her?

Stand strong! he called to the others.

They increased their power to the barrier and stood their ground, although doubts sprang up in a few of the younger men and weakened the connection. Lusiradrol could intimidate anyone who heard stories of the death in her wake. But he had survived. She might have allowed him the last time, but in their first encounter, he had defeated her. He had help from Istaria and Darius then, but it proved she could be defeated, especially if they combined their powers against her.

This time, he fought for more than their world. He fought to protect Calli from the horror the demon would unleash. He would not let the others fail.

When Lusiradrol struck, the force of her blast knocked several men to the ground. Only a few rose again on unsteady legs.

She laughed in mockery. In a blink, she sent some of the weaker members bouncing away from the barrier.

Only a few standing held the line.

Her face turned livid with anger. "Fools!"

Not fools. Honorable magi. Jayson's powers weakened with each spell she unleashed. He grew tired with the strain of holding against her, but he would fight to the end with his brothers.

Where was Master Haiberuk? What had she done to the others?

Lusiradrol formed another collection of power as he watched. In his heart, he knew they would fall with one more, unless reinforcements arrived in the next few seconds.

One did.

His confidence climbed at the sight of the master, who materialized behind her in his simple brown robes.

Lusiradrol whirled, her face hardening. "You! You're no mage." She searched around her. "Where are the others of your kind?"

But that would not deter her. A moment later, she let loose her final stroke at the barrier.

The force of her power shoved Jayson onto his back, the wind knocked from him. Through the spots in his vision, he made out Haiberuk's battle with her. He wanted to help, but he could hardly move. His chest hurt.

Lusiradrol knocked Haiberuk's containment attempts aside and strode for the opening of the vault. The four guards waiting there raised their spears. The magic of their powers surged in a new shield.

No more. Jayson regained his breath and jumped on her. She collapsed with him and rolled to the ground. He held fast, but in his weakened state, he was no match. She escaped his hold and threw him aside like a rag. The ground slammed against him.

Black spots danced in his vision. Through it, he saw Lusiradrol let loose a blow that rocked the ground beneath them. All four elite guards flew into the hillside with enough force to leave indentations in the rocky soil.

Unimpeded, she entered the vault.

Jayson crawled to his feet, determined to stop her, but had to pause for a second. The spots in his vision threatened to close on him with the throbbing of his head. It slowly faded, and he straightened.

Haiberuk stood next to him. "Come. We've one last option."

One last option that only the master knew, but at least it was something.

Jayson nodded and followed into the dark maw. The clatter of steps echoing around them, they ran through the descending passages of the old caverns, now filled with stalagmites and stalactites over sections of smooth surfaces. Ancient writings covered the walls, but Jayson rushed past, following a touch of magic from Haiberuk to light the way.

Through the twists and turns, they raced into the depths of the vault.

"Death and famine on them all for this!" Lusiradrol's voice echoed through the passage from somewhere ahead. "Awaken, my brothers and sisters!"

"Hurry!" Haiberuk sprinted ahead with no indication of tiring.

Jayson dipped into his last reserves of energy for the strength to keep pace. Ahead of them, threads of dark magic wove their way through the caverns. Would this nightmare not end?

No. It was just beginning. This was the beginning of the prophecy.

At the chamber of the sleeping dragons, Haiberuk's light cast shadows through the chamber.

Jayson gasped. Never had he set foot inside the chamber—their purpose was to prevent anyone from entering. Over a hundred dragons must have filled the vault, red mounds of scales and wings. The First Race had formed the cavern around the clan after the casting of the spell that bound them, and only magic could wake them.

Already a few of the red beasts stirred from their drowsiness. Their heads measured as long as a man stood tall, marked by various patterns of spikes and ridges. Yellow reptilian eyes blinked away the millennia of slumber, awakened by their master's call. The great mounds shifted and stretched weary limbs.

The Red Clan awakened.

The Sh'lahmar who had followed halted behind him, their presences in the flow of magic dwarfed by those of the dragons.

"Join me." Haiberuk held out his hand to Jayson.

Jayson placed his palm over the master's and turned to the next closest man. Haiberuk pulled the power flowing through their connection to him. What little remained to him, Jayson gave up freely.

Growls and groans reverberated in the underground chamber.

Whatever Haiberuk planned, he'd better hurry.

The nearest beast rose up using the clawed joints of its wings. With powerful hind limbs and long tails, they resembled their brethren, but these were not like the other dragons.

Jayson gasped at the sight of the wyverns, the vicious creatures of nightmares. They were said to be smaller than the true dragons but these were larger than he expected.

The Red Clan screeched their anger.

"Rise, brothers and sisters!" Lusiradrol's triumphant voice rose over the clamor of their awakening. "Today you shall have your revenge!"

Haiberuk lifted his eyes to the roof of the cavern. A grim expression fixed on his face, his eyes focused on the stalactites, some as large as the dragons.

The cavern shook, breaking the enormous spears free. They rained down on the beasts, stabbing many in their vulnerable points on their heads and leaving them dead. The hardness of their scales shielded their flesh from serious injury, except in that soft spot.

"NO!" Lusiradrol turned to them, her eyes ablaze with malice.

The cavern continued to shake beneath them. They would likely die in the attempt. Jayson took small comfort in knowing they diminished the population of the Darklord's servants.

Lusiradrol wobbled amid the pounding of rock collapsing around her. One of the wyverns ducked down, and she jumped aboard its neck with a deftness that could only have come from magic. Together they rushed the Sh'lahmar.

Jayson winced at the wave of red bodies racing at them. They'd never stop the onslaught and the Red Clan would escape.

Apparently Haiberuk thought a chance remained. He stood his ground, still focused on pulling down whatever he could to pummel the beasts.

The one bearing down on them with Lusiradrol on its shoulders let loose a breath of flame, but Haiberuk deflected the fire upwards without touching it.

Lusiradrol drove the beast to attack.

At the last second, Jayson and the others let go and ducked away. He rolled into a pile of rocks and slammed his head into a boulder. His vision scattered, but he thought he caught sight of the dragon running through the master. Unlikely, but not impossible. The Majera were not corporeal beings, but they would not let this happen.

After they passed, Haiberuk stood in the same place.

The last vision Jayson caught as a dream. One by one the wyverns rushed out of their hibernation.

The fight drained from him with the realization that he had failed.

Somewhere in his dream Master Haiberuk stood over him and smiled. Trust in yourself, child. You are the last.

The world faded. Calli...

_______________

# Calli

"Jayson!" Calli gasped and sat upright from the cot. Disoriented, she turned around. Instead of stalagmites and rough stone walls, she was surrounded by smooth walls of stone blocks fitted tightly together to form a narrow corridor the length of her cot with a window at one end a darker interior room at the other. Through the fog of sleep, reality returned. But it had all felt so real, like she'd been there watching.

She had dreamed of a sea of red-scaled bodies and falling rocks in a dark cave. Somewhere amid the chaos lay Jayson, wounded or worse.

No. She shook the images away. A dream. Only a dream. It was not real, despite all her senses telling her she had been there.

Calli slid her legs over the edge of the cot and rubbed her eyes. She flung the braid of fiery hair over her shoulder and noticed the dirt stains on her clothes—boots and breeches, tunic and bracers.

She still wore her fighting gear. Fighting...Yes. Now she remembered. But her sword—

On the floor where she dropped her scabbard before falling asleep in the quiet nook.

The morning rushed back into her memories. She had struggled against General Marjan's masters but defeated them, this time. The general respected her enough to challenge her, but she had paid for it. One missed strike had allowed Roan an opening.

Calli twisted to check the wound in her side and winced at the sting when she moved. Damned be the strength of a man to slam even a wooden blade with force enough to break skin. At least they had found healing herbs in the valley. Already the cut was nothing more than a nuisance that reminded her to move quicker. She would next time. The bruising would last a while, however.

How long had she rested?

It didn't matter. She had other duties to attend. She retrieved the sword from the floor and made an effort to stand, but the stinging of the wound and her muscle aches flooded her with pain. She sucked in a deep breath through her teeth. For too long she had focused on cleaning up the fortress and pushed her training aside.

Now, she paid for it with the reminder of muscles not used and a wound from not moving fast enough.

With each step to the window, she walked off the stiffness in her muscles. By the time she reached the glassless, arched window, she stepped with a normal stride.

Fresh air greeted her from the valley graced by the sun, which dipped to the line of mountain peaks behind and to her left. The shadow of the ancient five-tiered fortress fell short of the cliffs to her right. Beyond the shadows, the remainder of one legion of Cavatar's army practiced their combat skills, hardly more than a full regiment. Marjan's troops were more than ready to make up for the damage caused by Overlord Tyrkam.

No. Not yet. He had told her he was not, even if the men were.

Jayson would have been impressed.

Jayson. The dream. Her heart sank, not for the first time since he left them. His presence had boosted her morale and her confidence for the short time he had accompanied her.

Every night she lingered at her bedroom window until the moon rose over the mountaintops, wishing he would ride into the valley. If he returned, she would greet him with open arms and never let go. She should have told him how she felt before he left. Maybe he would have stayed.

Each day he failed to return, her heart weighed heavier with grief.

"My lady." The stern voice cracked the cloud of regrets sinking over her.

Calli turned to General Marjan, who stood at the entrance of the nook where she rested. The stiff lines of his face softened minutely beneath the gray-streaked stubble on his jaw but didn't affected the air of authority clinging to him, despite the simple dark blue tunic he wore, secured at his waist by the ever-present sword belt. Marjan saw her as a lady more than a warrior. They all did, but she would continue to prove them wrong. Her father, Kaillen, had been appointed to train the royal guards, and he had trained her, although in secret, with the skills of his homeland.

Those skills had not helped her save Istaria from Tyrkam, but she would one day.

"Feel better now, lass?"

"Much, thank you." She forced the longing from her voice and straightened to match his rigid posture. As part of their agreement in sharing the riches of Arronfel, the valley hidden by magic and abandoned when she and Jayson found it, he granted her the respect of counsel as the first to have found the hidden fortress. He also respected her as the bearer of the seal of the House of Isolder, given to her as a marriage vow by the prince, Phelan Isolder. She in turn left him to command his troops without interfering, but she had no interest in leading them. She never had. All she had ever wanted was to rescue her friend, the princess she served until the day Tyrkam's soldiers abducted her from their carriage.

A hint of a smile touched his lips beneath the gray-peppered mustache. "A fine tough lass, but no less human than any man." He spoke softly, as if he understood the longing of her heart.

She smiled. Marjan had always been fair to her. She admired his ability to coordinate life in the valley. He was unlike the other generals who had visited the court. He was not arrogant or hard, but he could be when the situation called for it. "How goes the training of the new recruits?"

Marjan's scouts had made contact with scattered groups of the king's disbanded army and others who simply wished revenge against Tyrkam's treachery. Their army grew each day. Three thousand strong called Arronfel home. Once more the ancient fortress resonated with life.

"They grow stronger and restless. They desire the blood o' Tyrkam's men."

Calli nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. The contempt in his voice mirrored what she felt. "And the season?" She guessed that the same magic hiding the valley also protected it from the extremes of the higher altitude of the mountains and the seasons. Snow did not fall within the valley, nor did the temperature rise or fall beyond comfort.

"My men report heavy snow on the road, though much less in the lowlands."

Winter was a difficult season to tolerate on the continent of Ayrule, even worse among the Northern Mountains. If the men grew too restless, they might jeopardize the occupation of the valley. They needed a way to expend that energy. "Might we send small groups to harass Tyrkam's men?"

He frowned and shook his head. "I advise against it. Winter brings nothing but hardship and disloyalty, and treacherous travel."

"I see..." The road through the mountains could prove difficult to use in the winter months. She had overlooked that fact when they found the valley occupied only by a herd of horses.

"Banish such ideas, or no man'll respect your decisions."

Winters in Cavatar came with the burden of snow and icy winds. The mountains would be worse, but that valley gave her a false sense of ease. "I've too long forgotten."

"At least we may grow and prepare for spring. They understand that. In the meantime, I've come to bring you to eat."

"Personally?" He could have sent Quentin, the small-statured scholar who advised him and recorded everything.

"As our agreement, I wished no others to see you in pain, Lady Calli."

She flinched at the formal title, hating everything it reminded her of losing, especially the mistress she had served and sought to rescue, until Cavatar fell to Tyrkam.

Yet she respected the general's thoughts to send no one else to retrieve her for the meal. Calli smirked and took a deep breath, which released the tension. "Thank you."

"I gave my word." Without further comment, he strode away.

Calli followed, wincing at the first few steps before the stiffness again worked out from her movements. General Lessuel Marjan never turned but continued to lead through the rooms and corridors of Linfrathâr.

She hid the pain lingering in her heart, or thought she did, but perhaps Marjan saw and chose not to make his notice obvious, as with her physical discomfort. The war for Cavatar had taken its toll on her and torn her heart to shreds with the loss of family and friends, including her father and Phelan and Istaria.

And now Jayson.

_______________

# Jayson

Like a flash of lightening through the dead of night, the pain shot through his skull. Blurry images in his memory sharpened with each second of awareness until he opened his eyes.

A dim light permeated the cool black of the underground cavern. Jayson barely made out the enormous dimensions of what remained of the cavern and mounds of rubble, and something else.

The stench attacked as swiftly as the pain. He pinched his nose to block the sickening odors of reptiles and death that would otherwise choke him.

Anxious to leave that place, he rolled to his side.

Bad move. His body ached and his head throbbed as if pounded beneath the talons of the red wyverns that had escaped their slumber.

Mindful of the pain, he moved slowly from the ground. When he licked his dry lips, he frowned at the metallic taste. Blood. How bad was it?

Jayson probed with his fingers along his face and followed a crusted trail through his tousled black hair to the back of his head. Wonderful. Just what he needed.

With a groan, he struggled to sit up.

Through the sudden seizure of pain freezing his movements, the escape of the Red Clan flooded back from his memories. What had he done? Where were the other Sh'lahmar guards who had defended the vault with him?

Jayson moved more slowly to sit up, wincing with each nuance of pain accosting him. His vision cleared in the faint light from a hole above the cavern to discern mounds of charred something among the rocky rubble.

He realized something else. That wasn't a hole but, rather, the ceiling had partially collapsed. They must have broken through. The passageway would have been tight for them, if they had tried it.

Haiberuk had failed to stop them all. Lusiradrol had escaped with a good number of her clan before Jayson blacked out.

No. He failed. He, Jayson, had inadvertently led Lusiradrol to this place. He should not have returned, but she would have found it one way or another with Darius's brooch. What else could he do but return to warn them?

Stayed with Calli. Protected her. Fool! I did this.

Jayson winced. Damn! His head hurt, but he couldn't sit around there all day.

He rose to his feet a little at a time, as his head permitted. The noise of his movements resounded throughout the cavern as he knocked gravel and rocks aside in his attempts to make his feet stay under him. In a moment of weakness, he leaned on a large boulder until his feet agreed to cooperate.

Once standing, he gazed about while the throbbing in his head lessened.

A few of his colleagues had fallen in battle. Like faded shadows, they left impressions in the magic. But if they were dead, where were the bodies?

The obvious answer made him cringe. Of course, the Red Clan would be hungry when they awakened after more than three thousand years, but why leave him if that was the case? How did they miss him?

Someone must have survived as the dragons rushed from the vault, or he would be dead. He had to find them, if humanity was to be saved. He also had to warn Calli, or he'd never forgive himself.

One small step at a time, Jayson fumbled his way through the corridors. Rubble lined the path where the dragons had knocked chunks from the walls and ceiling. That answered one question—some of the Red Clan had passed through the corridor.

After some stumbling, he emerged into the fading light of day filtering into the cavern. Silence surrounded him.

Jayson squinted in the warm sunlight. His eyes focused amid the spots dancing in his vision.

It couldn't be. Ash and dust stirred up beneath his feet. The black death left from dragon fire coated the ground in the small valley around him. Blackened tree stumps stuck up like giant teeth, smoking from the fire that had must have consumed them and burned out.

He fell against a large boulder hewn from the entrance of the vault and gazed in shock. He had been unconscious more than a little while.

A hawk's shrill call pierced the air, rousing Jayson from his stupor. The raptor glided down. The weak stirrings of magic from it relieved his confusion.

He remembered a shapeshifter but strained for the name somewhere in his head...Gaispar!

She hovered above the ash. In seconds, the wings grew into cloaked arms and the young woman stood on the earth. A small cloud of gray dust rose about her boots. In her human form, she threw back her hood from a head of blonde hair, her blue eyes scanning the destruction surrounding her in dismay.

He grimaced at a throbbing hammer in his head. "How bad is it?"

"Not as bad from the air. They've only scorched this area, but I spied dragons grounded to the south."

"She's heading for Tyrkam." There was some satisfaction in this mess. "Imagine his face." Tyrkam had struck a deal with Lusiradrol to help find her clan in return for her support to conquer Cavatar. From Makleor—the old mage who pretended to help Tyrkam but really was with him to lead him to where he found the man most useful—Jayson understood that the overlord had canceled that arrangement. The black dragon wanted Tyrkam's hide for betraying their bargain.

Gaispar attempted a smile but it twisted into a grimace. "Unless they work with him."

"I preferred not to consider that."

"Whatever the matter, the others should know."

"If they've not already seen it." Master Haiberuk had told him and the other Sh'lahmar that, although the true dragons resided in a completely different realm, they observed happenings in this world. If so, then they already knew, as would Darius and Istaria, who lived with them. What actions would they take?

What actions indeed. Dragons against dragons would be fascinating and terrible at the same time, but there were other matters now to concern him. "What of the Lumathir?"

"I'm on my way to meet with Tahronen now. Istaria wished to know of her family, so I left to find them. This—" She indicated the cinders with a gesture of her head. "—will change things."

"That I've no doubt." It changed too many things. "Chaos is unleashed."

One fine eyebrow arched on her face. No panic. No fear. Just a single eyebrow lifting. Not what he would have expected, but he supposed if he had lived three hundred years with immortality, he might not find much excitement in this.

"Never did it leave this world. Or do you know something I do not?"

She was right. He would grant that. The Darklord was a creation by the original Chaos of the universe in answer to the formation of Light and Order. Since the Darklord resided in Lusiradrol, Chaos had never left the world. Details.

She didn't have to be strict about it.

Jayson shook his head and rose to his feet. The throbbing returned with the movement, but it bothered him less than it had previously.

With a few seconds of no movement, the throbbing lessened. Jayson blinked and met the eyes of the woman, a touch of his usual liveliness returning with the lessening of the hammer in his head. "Lovely to chat with you, but have we not other duties to attend?"

A thin smile played across her lips. "I'll find you later."

"Provided I've not fallen to that devil by then."

Her smile curved higher. "I doubt that." She lifted her arms and transformed into the hawk.

When she vanished over the horizon, he returned his attention to more immediate concerns.

Moving with care to avoid setting off the aches and pains in his body, Jayson walked in the direction of the living quarters of the Sh'lahmar. They were once the Guardians of the Secret, the magi trained to keep the vault hidden and protected since Makleor and the dragons cast the sleeping spell over the Red Clan. Already cursed to human form, Lusiradrol had fled before Makleor's spell trapped her with them. Only recently had she sought her clan, and only because she found a clue left by Darius when he fled with Istaria from Tyrkam's forces.

The lung-stinging smoke of smoldering wood choked him into fits of coughing. Jayson emerged from the cinders of what had been the trees surrounding the square of rubble. There, a whisper of magic called to him, stirring the colors somewhere ahead.

He turned in the direction from which it flowed, peering through the haze from the smoking cinders of what was once the master's abode.

A single hooded figure materialized from the gray.

"Master!"

Haiberuk pulled his hood back, revealing a grim face.

Had he trusted Haiberuk, they might have stopped the clan from escaping. He shriveled inside from shame and bowed his head. "Forgive me."

The Majera, one of the three immortal beings who created the world, stopped before him and reached a hand to his head. A surge of magic froze Jayson for an instant. In that instant, power rushed through him with a cleansing purpose. Jayson inhaled sharply but a second later let it out.

When the master removed his hand, Jayson straightened. The pain was gone. He stared in disbelief at the immortal's calm visage. "Why?"

"You are the last of this realm. We need all who can be spared."

"I deserve no forgiveness for my lack of faith."

Haiberuk shook his head. "No less than human. For that you deserve no punishment."

"I failed you, and the others." Jayson swallowed. The others vanished, likely filling the bellies of the hungry beasts. Why had he been spared?

Haiberuk's image wavered and grew translucent. "You aided our purpose more than you know. Go and carry out your duties."

"What duties?"

The image faded like smoke.

If not for the healing, Jayson would've questioned the encounter as his imagination.

He could think of only one duty to carry out with the Red Clan gone—to warn others of the hazards of the dragons.

Renewed by the healing, Jayson left the protected lands behind to travel the outside world once more. He had once sworn to secrecy to prevent Lusiradrol from learning of her clan's sleep, but now he no longer needed to hide his purpose. In fact, he needed to make humanity aware of the dangers. Most importantly, he would find Calli, and he would tell her the truth.

_______________

# Makleor

Makleor shivered and glanced from his work in the study to the closed windows through which a faint wind whistled. Winter came early, but the cold was not physical.

The magic twisted as if to move away from something empty. He closed his eyes, his right shutting with the left that never saw, and followed the trail through second sight. Through the magic, he traced it to the approaching threat, a disturbance he recognized from ages past, a darkness one never forgot. His heart nearly stopped.

They came!

He closed the dusty tome with a heavy thud and called his staff to his hand from its place against the wall. With that to support him, he rose from his chair but paused at a glance of the Sôrath Ron. Something was wrong—the crystal held by the dragon carved of dragon's tooth at the top of the wooden staff had clouded.

It mattered not. He needed no seeing stone to know trouble approached.

The dark hood of his mantle over gray hair left only his long beard exposed. Long ago he gave up shaving as a young man's necessity to a woman's heart. He had no one to impress, and every reason to hide the wrinkles of millennia.

Leaning on the staff, he hobbled from the upper room in the palace to find Tyrkam. Although it would likely prove futile, he had to warn the man. The warlord could put up some defenses against the beasts.

Now, where to find him...

Ah, yes! The closed session with the regional governors, establishing his rule, if one could call it that. Unlike the Isolder family through generations, Tyrkam ruled by force. The individual provinces would revolt if he pushed them with unreasonable demands. Makleor had tried to warn him, but Tyrkam refused to listen.

Unlike the old castle of Wynmere with its dreary halls of stone, Setheadroc Palace shone bright throughout. The stones that made up the structure fit precisely in smooth lines and round columns and gold-accented ceiling murals and sky lights. No plaster was used to cover rough cuts, because no rough stone was exposed. Rivon architecture also used doors that curved to a point, a style they incorporated in parts of the palace of Setheadroc. Simple yet elegant, a work of art. Its beauty almost matched the works of the Ancients.

But the sights were not his concern. Finding Tyrkam within them was. Although it had been many years, he remembered parts of the palace.

He stopped at a closed door and listened. Muffled familiar voices filtered from the other side.

Without knocking, Makleor commanded the door open. The table of rough-looking figures in various degrees of raiment from mail to leather hauberks silenced. From the far end, Tyrkam's glare hit him like a winter blast, his darker complexion standing out among the fairer men of Ayrule.

"This better be important, old one."

Makleor allowed a faint smile and bowed his head. "Important, yes. Your life—lives—it bears."

Tyrkam straightened, his jaw clenched. When he said nothing, Makleor continued. "Legends arise. On the winds of destruction, they will soon arrive."

"Speak sense, wizard!"

If that's what it took to light a fire under the man, so be it. "She comes, my lord, borne by kin."

Tyrkam's crossed arms fell slack. "Lusiradrol!" He rushed to the window and threw open the shutters to a cold, biting wind. A low howl reached them, an unearthly scream in the distance that could have been the wind but for its chill on the soul.

Tyrkam whirled on his gathering. "Make ready the palace. Rouse the men for battle."

The officers frowned in confusion. "What is it, my lord?" one of them asked.

"Dragons."

The men turned to one another with questioning looks.

"Wizard!"

Wizard, indeed. Makleor was magi, the last of the Great Magi, the children of Tahronen. Only the Majera, the creators of their world, were more powerful than he. But Tyrkam had no idea.

"Cast your spells to protect this place."

Makleor bowed his head and turned to leave. From behind him the questions arose. Once outside the room, he chuckled. The human would pay for his crimes against his own for selling his soul to a demon of a woman.

For the moment the only sound in the corridor rose from the steady tap of his staff. Soon it would fill with the clamor of men in armor.

Makleor took the opportunity of the quiet and formed the magic to protect the palace. That would be enough.

He reached the second floor and followed the colors of magic to the queen's chambers. Two figures holding hands down a sunlit path carved in dark-oiled wood towered above him on the massive doors.

He pushed one of the doors aside with magic—his physical strength was inadequate—and stepped into the bedchambers. The door thumped closed behind him.

The three golden-haired women ignored him. Instead, they focused their attention on the center of their triad, where a glowing ball hovered in the air. Their blue eyes fixed on movement within the orb.

Makleor hobbled to them, certain of what the orb contained. Their attention focused on the images.

"You would be safer elsewhere," he said.

"They're not on the warpath. I suspect other reasons." Tahronen never turned when she answered. The ageless face of a young woman gazed into the sphere. One of the three Majera, she had given rise to the magi long ago, when she took men of the Second Race as lovers. The children of the Light were known as magi for that part of their heritage which granted them access to magic.

Of slightest figure, Damaera glanced beyond the orb to him, her face rigid with deep shadows where there should be ample flesh. She hated him for his part in her daughter's abduction, but it had to be done to put her in the right place to fulfill her destiny. Her sister, Gayleana—resembling Damaera in many details but taller and of normal flesh for a healthy woman—focused with Tahronen on the orb.

Makleor stepped closer and examined the woman on the red beast within the orb. Instead of the dark anger he knew too well, a malevolent smile hinted of other intentions. The coal black of her hair hung in a braid down her back, matching the depths of her eyes, which revealed much about her thoughts.

"The master manipulator."

Tahronen's fine lips curved into a smile on a youthful, immortal face. "Perhaps Tyrkam shall have a guest?"

He nodded his agreement. For all appearances, he would guess the same purpose to Lusiradrol's approach that Tahronen might suspect. "You'll be well?"

"She'll not find us here."

Makleor smiled. Of course. The Majera had her own plans that would not permit room for Lusiradrol's intentions. She protected the queen and her sister, like the rest of the Lumathir, the descendants of her children, the brothers and sisters Makleor long ago outlived because of the white dragon's curse.

With as much of a bow as his tired bones allowed, he left the three women.

Tahronen would likely transport them directly to the gates of the city in which the Lumathir dwelt, especially since the queen had recovered from her illness.

Tyrkam would rage about not being able to question the queen further. If the warlord chose to punish him for their disappearance, Makleor feared nothing. He was immortal, cursed by the white dragon to pay for his betrayal. He welcomed the release from life, so he could die in peace, but that would not come until the dragon returned to lift his curse.

Until then, Makleor would do all he could to ensure the prophecy came to pass.

Until that happened, he would deal with Lusiradrol and Tyrkam.

_______________

# Lusiradrol

The palace was not what it had been. She needed no magic to alter her sight. Magnificent spires reached for the sky but caught no sunlight. They no longer shone as if made of gold but were tarnished by the scorch marks of Tyrkam's attack.

Lusiradrol hated it as it had been. It symbolized all she hoped to destroy. The imperfections satisfied her.

Soon. By the speed of Fresthan, they would be there before Tyrkam could prepare any defenses. She could have transported herself right into Tyrkam's walking path, but the dragon would provide an intimidation effect upon his soldiers.

In the ancient times, the humans refused to call her clan dragons, but gave them another name instead—wyverns. They considered the creations of the Majera to be the true dragons. The Red Clan were the dragons of the Darklord, twisted by dark forces, but humans denied them their heritage. She was one of them, even in that cursed form, and would not tolerate the disrespect.

The flap of giant wings beat the air on either side of her and the wind of flight blew across her face. Fresthan's rough scales formed a perfect seat for her on his shoulders, although she would have preferred flying herself had she not been cursed to that wretchedly puny form.

Awakening her clan had been easy, after destroying the elite guards. The Sh'lahmar had protected the vault in which the feared beasts slept. The mage who cast the spell was careless in his procedures, since in his haste he had not prevented the dragons from a simple awakening spell. All to her favor.

Lusiradrol smirked. Despite all his care to prevent her from dominating the world, the old mage had lapsed by not doing more to destroy her clan.

Perhaps he could not.

A weakness? She pushed aside the fact that his spell and the guards had prevented her clan from three thousand years of destruction. "The old man is limited, else he would have killed you all." She patted the thick scales beneath her.

Fresthan's only response came in the steady rise and fall of his shoulder muscles with the flap of his wings.

The old man and the white dragon had both interfered with her plans of conquest and destruction. She would finish them all, but while she could not pass through the gateway to Eyr Droc, the Second Realm, where the princess and the white dragon's spirit now resided, a mortal like Tyrkam could. He would fulfill her desire for vengeance.

The city in the distance grew larger amid the rolling green hills. The closer they glided, the clearer she made out the blackened areas. Repairs were a low priority from the looks of it.

A hint of Light touched her black core, irritating her into a snarl. Makleor was in the palace, but there was another of greater power.

Damn him! Tyrkam knew she feared the old mage. Although she now doubted the old man could kill her, he was still dangerous. That was why the warlord kept him around. Now he had added another to protect him. Wise, or very foolish.

One way or another, she would have her way.

Lusiradrol made mental notes and alterations to her plans.

As they passed over Setheadroc, Fresthan spiraled down to the palace and its city. The people below rushed about as if they could stop her. She almost laughed at such beliefs. Neither arrow nor sword could pierce dragon scales. Human weapons only hurt dragons if they penetrated vulnerable areas—the soft flesh beneath the scales or the unprotected skin over the hearing lobes. But one had to counter the magic and ferocity of a dragon to get that close. Tyrkam was a fool if he believed such pitiful weapons could stop her.

Ignoring the bustle of soldiers and common folk, she directed her mount to a place outside, where the two protective walls met. Fresthan obeyed.

The wall formed no obstacle to the size of the dragon. He hunched down to rest his claw-tipped wings at the battlements. Men scattered from the sharp, curved hooks, which sent bits of stone crumbling to the courtyard below.

With a hungry eye on the humans, Fresthan lowered his head to the wall for her.

The men stared dumbfounded and afraid as she jumped from the dragon's snout to the walk. Lusiradrol studied them, searching for the face she hoped to find. If she knew Tyrkam, he would be hiding. A knowing smile crept to her black lips.

She patted the nose of the dragon. "They cannot hurt me. I'll return soon from this errand. Have patience." She added the last at the touch of her brother's hunger. The crimson beast had eaten, but not enough to stave off his appetite. He could wait until she finished, unless she needed him to make an example.

Fresthan huffed a cloud of smoke from his nostrils in warning to the armed soldiers and lifted his claws from the wall.

Lusiradrol called on the magic to transport her within feet of Tyrkam.

The magic failed.

His mage had cast a spell. She growled and turned to the men. Behind her, her brother's steps trailed off.

With her hands on her hips, she spoke so all could hear. "I demand an audience with your Overlord Tyrkam!" She spat the title in mockery. Overlord of nothing! He was a pitiable fool if he believed this would last.

The men looked to each other for someone else to respond. None wished to confront her. As it should be. All should fear her, but for the moment, she wished to face the man who dared challenge her. "NOW!"

The thunder of her voice made them jump. One of them stepped towards her. "I will. Follow me." He waved her forward.

Lusiradrol followed. The others cleared a wide path before him leading to the steps of the Grand Hall. The normal activity of the palace courtyard stood frozen in its motions. All eyes watched her pass. Their fear fed her power.

The soldier commanded the doors be opened for her and men rushed to open the tall, ornate doors. Proper respect would gain them a little more time to live.

Despite the light from the windows above, her shadow stretching down the hall silenced the few people littering the high-ceilinged chamber. Wide columns supported balconies along each side above.

From the staircase along the far side, Tyrkam strode down, surrounded by his guards. His dark skin tone stood out from the pale-complexions of the Ayrulean guards around him.

In contrast, her black riding outfit absorbed all light in the room like the deepest shadow. She glided across the floor and stopped several strides from the bottom of the stairs. Tyrkam said nothing as he descended, although the scowl amid the ring of thick, black hair encircling his mouth said enough.

Only when he reached the floor of patterned tiles did he say anything. His words came out in an icy hiss. "Dragon!"

Dragon, indeed. He complimented her. "Lord Tyrkam, or should I say, 'My liege'? Or have you taken this land as a gift for me?" Not that she needed or wanted land. She simply plucked his emotions.

Despite his efforts at control, his eyes betrayed his fear of her. It intoxicated her with power. He knew she would come only as his superior.

And he was without his protector. The mage hid from her sight. His presence stirred elsewhere in the palace, along with the greater power she sensed from a distance. He would not interfere.

But that other power... A sense of familiarity about it crept to her memories. She could almost identify it...

"What's your purpose here?"

Lusiradrol blinked away her distraction and refocused on the stubborn human before her. "You owe me a debt."

"I owe you nothing."

Anger flared within her, but she suppressed the expression of it with a forced smirk. "I gave you the tools to make this possible. For that you promised to find my clan. You did nothing." Her voice cooled. She needed him cooperative, not combative. "I offer a chance to make amends."

His dark eyes narrowed with suspicion. His guards rested their hands on their swords.

They were no match for her. Still... "We'll discuss this in private."

"We can speak here."

She transported him with her—

To a windy mountain ledge overlooking the shimmering heat from meandering lava flows—the Dark Hills, the ancient breeding grounds of her clan and soon to be once more.

"Perhaps now you'll listen to me."

From the tension in his body, she recognized his anger, and his fear. But he controlled his emotions. Except for his hand on the pommel of his sword, he stood otherwise unmoved. "Say your piece."

"You wish your revenge on the one called Istaria?"

He nodded and lowered his hand from the sword. "You can make this happen?"

"I know how to reach Eyr Droc, the Second Realm. That's where they've taken her. Bring her to me and I'll forgive your failure."

"If you know this place, why do you not enter?"

How dare he question her! But she expected such a question and calmed. "I cannot. Powerful spells protect the portal and are set against me.

"But they do nothing to mortals. It's the legacy of he who trained our enemy, that dragons and mortals live together. You'll have your revenge, my Lord Tyrkam. Obey me and I'll reveal their secrets."

He gave a slow nod. "I'll consider it."

"Think fast."

The muscles of his neck flexed, his eyes narrowing. "Return me to my palace. I have plans to make."

So easy. In a blink they stood in the middle of the Grand Hall.

The thumping of boots on stone tiles echoed around them. "Milord!"

Tyrkam turned to the captain of the guard.

In that moment, Lusiradrol transported herself to her waiting mount at the edge of the forest. It took less than a thought to place herself at the foot of the creature.

A difficulty turned to advantage. The effect of riding in and walking amid the soldiers could not have been less to her favor. They would remember the threat.

He will do it, sssissster?

She patted Fresthan's crimson face before climbing aboard the jagged scales along his neck. "He knows the risks if he fails."

A rumble of pleasure escaped the large beast as he lifted into the air.

Wearing a smirk, she looked back at the palace. She would have her revenge of Tyrkam and the white dragon.

But what of the other magic users in the palace? They had vanished before her disappearance with Tyrkam, and the spell with them, else she would not have been able to transport. The thought of such power in the hands of her enemies troubled her. The being she sensed awoke strange feelings of familiarity and, with that, a burning hatred.

_______________

# Damaera

Damaera shivered from the breeze ruffling her long gown and adjusted her coat.

She followed Tahronen and Gayleana through the lonely stone streets branching around tall structures. Stone unbroken with cut lines flowed in smooth, solid forms several floors up. Wind whistled through the shattered protrusions of glass.

Vague memories stirred from her youth, flickers of this same place but seen through less experienced eyes.

Gayleana walked on her other side. Her younger sister of some two or three years, her blood sister of the same mother and father. The woman turned brilliant blue eyes to her and smiled. "Welcome home, Damaera."

Home? That place was not her home. Her home had been the palace before Tyrkam laid siege to it. Her home had been with her two children, before they disappeared. Her home had been in the comforting presence of her husband, King Alric Isolder, before Tyrkam killed him.

She wished she could think of Euramai as home, but her home was torn asunder by the wrenching of her emotions. The devastation destroyed her body and soul; all she loved was gone. Euramai was never truly home for her, even in the past.

"Forget who you were taught to be." Tahronen's voice rang clear with a wisdom and guidance that calmed Damaera's soul. "You are who you were meant to be. Here you'll learn further the gifts of your lineage."

The High Priestess lowered her voice. "You are all my children. Only together can we defeat the darkness."

Damaera glared but said nothing. She hated this but could not go back, not as long as Tyrkam walked the palace halls. This would have to be her home until she could join her children, all she had left in the world dear to her.

They passed through a high-ceilinged library built on a grand scale with tall columns and seamless stone like everything in the city and descended a set of wide steps, where several women sat alone in meditative quiet.

From the bottom of the wide steps to the columns at the opposite side of several acres of sectioned areas spread a garden like none she had seen. Barren tree branches swayed in a light breeze. The wind hushed through the trim hedges along the diverging paths through the garden. A few flowers still lingered at the edge of winter.

Clusters of women and young girls added color to the garden with their groups of same-colored robes, like artificial flowers to replace those that lost their blossoms at the end of the growing season.

She descended the steps with Gayleana and Tahronen and followed them over one of the stone paths through the garden. They passed the groups in small open areas. Most members of each group appeared of similar ages, but the different groups they passed ranged from young children to adults. In a couple, one or two individuals stood out as older, although she noticed a younger face in one group of older women. They sat around elder women who wore robes of simple design similar to Tahronen and Gayleana.

Damaera turned to Gayleana, ready to ask.

"The colors designate the level of training," her sister said before she could ask.

Gayleana wore green. What did that mean?

She counted five groups by the time they reached the two-story building at the opposite end of the garden. Neither Gayleana nor Tahronen gave any inclination for further explanation. She put the matter aside for later, as was appropriate when a guest to someone such as the High Priestess. Tahronen would explain when the time was right. At least, she hoped.

Patience had been drilled into Damaera since the time she started her foster care with the nobles of Brethin. Her teacher, Mistress Laurel, was quick with discipline but restrained with compliments. In that Damaera had learned the restraint and decorum required of the royal court of Cavatar. They had arranged her to marry Alric Isolder when she was only fourteen. It felt a lifetime ago, and, despite the many years of age between them, she had grown to love and respect him as he had been gentle and respecting of her. He was a good man and a generous leader.

But he was gone, and she could only honor his memory.

For the moment, she could do nothing to remove Tyrkam and his army from controlling Cavatar or to reclaim her children.

Rather, she would learn the ways of the Lumathir. This was her home, for a while.

She pushed aside her questions and took in the beauty of the arch overlooking the far end of the garden. Up close, the carved figures stood larger than life on the face of the arch sheltering the entrance from the elements. Two figures in the center—a man and a woman—almost held hands, but their hands blurred in a formless object between them from which rays spiked out. On either side bowed dragons, humans, and other creatures to the center figures.

The Creators of the world, the Majera. Tahronen had shown her the truth after healing her. The Light created the Majera, who was split into three beings. One took no form, but the other two took male and female. It shattered everything her foster family taught her about the one Goddess, but she could not deny what she had experienced in the Majera's presence.

Tahronen looked to both of them with an understanding smile sparkling in her eyes as clear as it curved up her lips. "Come." She waved them forward.

Damaera glanced aside at Gayleana, but she only shrugged.

Together, they followed the Majera under the archway and into a candlelit hall of low tables and pillows with two fireplaces on the opposite wall. Candles sat cold in their sconces around the room. Not a seam broke the rock face, like all the buildings they passed, yet the interlocking circles on the floor were comprised of different colors and patterns of stone polished smooth.

Light poured in from the tall windows on either side. Amid the shadows of the arched doorway at the far end rose a staircase.

"What is this place?"

"It serves many purposes. When we're not eating, it's a meditation room or a testing room." Gayleana untied the leather belt securing her cloak at her waist to keep the wind out. The room was strangely warm without the fires lit. "Several smaller rooms are maintained throughout the grounds to aid in the enrichment of the Lumathir."

Tahronen led them up the spiral staircase, her steps making no sound on the stone. They ascended to an antechamber with two columns a few steps before a plain wooden door. On the columns hung green banners billowing softly in the breeze through the lone open window. A breeze that should have chilled the room but did not. Winter was forbidden in this place.

The priestess walked ahead and opened the door on quiet hinges. She motioned for Damaera to follow. "I must speak to my child alone," Tahronen said to Gayleana. "I ask you to stand outside the door."

Gayleana bowed her head and stepped back for Damaera. Tahronen followed and let the door close with a small thud behind her.

The light of the falling sun glared through the window, setting aglow the hawk waiting there. The High Priestess motioned for her to take a seat on the pillows on the floor. Damaera obeyed, while her teacher sat opposite her.

In the air between them, a ball of smoke formed. Images coalesced, moving in and out of the view. Damaera recognized some as they changed from one group of individuals to another.

All of the scenes shared one commonality—red dragons attacking men, women, and children and destroying homes and land. They left nothing but black ash in their wake. Fires blazed while the shadows of people fled each scene.

Too shocked and afraid to look away, Damaera watched in horror as one of the red wyverns swooped down on a woman and swallowed her whole. Her stomach twisted in disgust. "They must be stopped."

The smoke dissipated to reveal Tahronen's frown. "You know the purpose for Istaria's powers. She must be protected. I doubt not that Lusiradrol will find a way to destroy the spirit of Gilthiel and his power she carries. At all costs, we must keep her from that goal."

A lump formed in Damaera's throat. She thought Istaria was safe when they revealed her whereabouts. Now that wasn't true? "How?"

"Mortals may cross the barrier."

"Any mortal? Any man?"

"Yes."

Her daughter! "But if someone knows—"

"She is surrounded by the dragons and guarded by the spirit. You will see her when the time is right." Tahronen dropped her eyes. "Now, our task is to gather. The Red Clan is awake. The war is upon us, but the white dragon is not yet ready. We must do all we can without him to stop the darkness Lusiradrol has unleashed."

Soft hands enclosed hers, calming her worries. "All children of Light must unite. We're here for this purpose, that the white dragon will be ready when the time comes to destroy the Darklord in Lusiradrol. We can only hope Lusiradrol does not discover it within herself before the task is finished."

She released her gentle hold. "All are needed, but your sacrifice is the greatest. I know your doubts. Heed them no earth in which to root. You were meant for this and will yet have a part to play in his purpose."

With a deep sigh, Damaera nodded. She had known all her life, but the memories of her brief time in Euramai as a child provided little preparation for this. She mourned for her family and would honor them with her efforts.

Tahronen smiled with the gentleness of one who understood. "You were chosen for this path. Let go any doubts you have. Release your guilt. Such emotions can be used against you."

She was chosen? Who made that decision? Why? Questions swirled in her head, stirring her frustrations to the surface.

The answer came like a jolt. "You sent me to be fostered in the practices of the royal courts. You sent me to Brethin."

The calm on Tahronen's face showed no shame or regret. "With each generation, the power of my descendants waned. I saw the potential and had to do something. Haiberuk and I guided them to one another to rebuild that power. Alric was gifted, but he was never told. The Isolder line has had infusions of mage blood, but yours is the purest line to my children. Yours is the strongest."

Fury rose up at the realization of what the Majera was telling her. "You bred us like cattle."

Hands clasped around hers in a grip too firm for a normal woman, but the unnatural beauty of Tahronen was that of no woman. She was the Creator, a being beyond any mortal, the Goddess worshipped by most Ayruleans.

That still gave her no right.

"Calm yourself, Damaera. Only a mage of great power could bear the power of a dragon without being taken by madness or being consumed by it. Yes, we guided the family lineage, but it was necessary to prepare for this time."

After losing all she had loved, hearing that it had all been arranged for generations to fall upon them like this burned within Damaera, but she could not deny the necessity of it. Still, it was her daughter, her beloved Istaria, who suffered for the indignity. And Damaera had loved Alric after some time forced into the marriage and lost him to Tyrkam's greed. It had all been pre-ordained. Did she not have a choice in the fate upon her? Did Istaria? Did anyone?

"Join us."

Emotions threatened to boil up, but the currents of magic changed and distracted her. They flowed from Tahronen like tidal waves of an ocean. Caught in the currents of power, Damaera forgot what stirred her emotions. Instead, she lost herself in the Light surrounding and penetrating her with its warmth.

But she would not forget that she had been nothing more than a pawn in a larger game.

_______________

# Calli

Calli swung the wooden practice sword in a swift parry, deflecting the strike of one of Marjan's lieutenants, a short but quick-moving man called Dravis. Wood knocked together. She ignored the sweat tickling down her neck and stray red hairs plastered to her face. Her entire attention focused on her opponent. She vowed to maintain the level of training she had obtained prior to leaving the palace.

His practice sword arced through the air. She anticipated his move and swung around. He swiped through empty air. When she brought hers to his throat, he looked genuinely surprised.

She breathed hard from the workout, almost as hard as he did.

A mocking grin climbed through the mustache on his face.

"Two for three," she said and lowered the practice blade. "I believe you owe me."

He frowned at her words.

"Y'd best keep your word, Dravis. Who can tell what she'd do with a real sword."

He eyed the three soldiers gathered to watch the fun. Although Dravis could be trusted for his commander's life, he had a mouth that bested him at times. This was one of those times.

At Marjan's insistence, Calli had taken his bet that he could defeat her in swordsmanship. After she first defeated him, he pressed for two out of three. Fair fight—he won. Third time was a charm and tie breaker. She defeated him. Maybe his pride would mellow for a while.

She used her sleeve to brush away the sweat, hiding her grin behind her arm. Marjan had warned her about her skills being challenged, but after witnessing for himself her talents, he advised she take on any challenger who dared to cross her. Being the daughter of Kaillen was never enough to prove herself.

In secret he had trained her, since most men of the continent despised the idea of women fighting.

After Istaria's abduction and Calli's insistence on rescuing her, Phelan assigned the two weapons masters, Donaghy and Morain, to train her with the hopes that they would break her spirit. Within two cycles, she bested them at swords and staffs.

Her father was the best, unbeaten in combat. It took a snake in his bed, while he slept, more than three years ago to take down the mighty Kaillen. It should never have happened.

She caught the eyes of the general several paces away. He turned, hiding the smile creeping out.

Perhaps now the others would respect her as the general did. A mere lady? Not for her.

Calli lowered the wooden sword and set it aside on a rack of myriad weapons. At a glance of their small audience, she recalled the first practices with Jayson. He had never doubted her, but he also joined her in the midst of a fight in a small village tavern. Without him, she could not have won.

Unconsciously, she grabbed at the pendant hanging on its chain around her neck. Her loyalty to her mistress had led her to Jayson. Her loyalty to the prince faltered.

"Next time..."

The threat in the voice distracted her from the memories. She turned at Dravis's gruff voice.

He scowled and strode away.

Calli shook her head. Most of the men she met had a problem with her knowing how to fight. Donaghy and Morain were thorough in teaching her techniques of as many different weapons as they could—or, rather, refreshing—and she had impressed them. The challenges from Marjan's soldiers continued that training since one of them had caught her practicing her combat skills with Marjan's master.

She strode away from them, her mind shifting to the gray gelding grazing in one of several stone-fenced paddocks with his travel companion, a bay mare named Danny. Both the draft-blooded mare and the lighter saddle horse watched the commotion in the largest of the paddocks.

When Calli approached his paddock, Duke shifted his attention and walked to the fence to greet her. Calli smiled and stroked the dark, dappled face.

Phelan had given the horse to her as a means to ensure she would return. He had also gifted her with a sword made by the finest swordsmith for the same reason. The seal hanging on the chain around her neck represented his promise to her, when she returned.

But her heart now belonged to Jayson, and she had nothing to return to.

The gelding nuzzled her shirt.

"Good to see you too. Ready for a little ride?"

In answer, Duke pawed impatiently at the ground. Calli chuckled and patted his neck. "Me too. Just wait a bit more." She kissed his muzzle, his whiskers tickling her face, and headed to the fortress for a quick meal. She could use a good wash and rest, but first a little ride. Duke had fattened on the lush grass.

The builders of the fortress included baths in their design, baths filled by the mountain runoff and heated by stoves beneath the floor. The soldiers had discovered several large public baths and a few small, private baths throughout the fortress.

If she managed to get away to continue her quest for the princess, she would miss the luxuries of Linfrathâr.

"General!" The voice sounded distant, and frantic.

Calli turned to find the source.

"General Marjan!"

A rider returned! Lather covered the horse's neck where the reins rubbed, and along its cheeks from the bridle. The horse gleamed with moisture from head to tail. She knew none of the riders sent out, but Marjan would.

The general watched from the base of the fortress with a group examining items pulled from the wreckage of the fortress. The rider streaked straight to him.

Curious, Calli ran to join him.

His fur-lined cloak and hair were dark with water as he reined the horse to a hard stop before the general. The chestnut horse stood on trembling legs, wheezing and coughing. A trickle of blood dripped from its nostrils.

Breathing nearly as hard as the horse, the short man jumped from the saddle to land on trembling legs. He leaned on the horse until his legs steadied.

Taelyn? That name wanted to fit with the face from her memories.

"Sir..." He paused. A young recruit took the reins of the horse and led it away. "Sir, I—"

Marjan crossed his arms, a stern look on his face. "We've few good mounts, and none deserve such cruelty."

"My apologies, sir." The rider paused. "But I've a horror on my tail."

"Tyrkam?"

He shook his head. "That's the least concern. A new terror reigns."

Calli stiffened. What could be worse than Tyrkam? She glanced aside at Marjan, who gave no more indication of his concerns than the slight shift of his jaw.

Taelyn focused on the general. "The legends are true! The dragons have returned."

"Dragons?" Marjan lifted a hand to the brown and gray stubble covering his jaw.

"Three chased me into the mountains, one almost to the valley. I dared not look back but believe they came not beyond the snows falling."

Calli shivered at the familiarity with the tales her father told her. Dragons could not be real. Not now. Not here on Ayrule. "They are myth."

"Myth or not, I know what I saw. I know what scared the horse to this." His eyes widened, exposing the fear gripping him. No man familiar with the blood of war feigned fear like that. If not for that glimpse of his soul, she would still doubt.

He turned back to Marjan. "I beg forgiveness for my waste of a good horse, but felt haste was prudent, General. These red beasts threaten all the people of Ayrule, not just Cavatar. They attack the villagers and set fire to the lands."

Part of Calli feared for Jayson, while the other part of her wished he was there to advise them. She suspected he knew more than he let on, particularly since he seemed comfortable with the magic of the valley. If not for his suggestion of crossing the mountains, they would not have found it.

What might he know about dragon lore? Only her father's bedtime stories came to mind, and they were of good dragons of most colors except red. Never had they instilled a fear as this news did.

Marjan clamped his jaw, chilling the air with his silent contemplation. He motioned the rider away and turned to face her. "My lady," he said in a grim tone, "if you take my counsel, it seems we've more important matters than Cavatar and Tyrkam."

Then Marjan believed.

She glanced to where the horse walked with one of the younger lads to rest. It coughed almost nonstop, broken from its arduous race. For many reasons, she was glad the scout rode hard, but for the animal's sake, she wished otherwise. "Graver matters indeed, General."

He gave a nod and strode away.

Calli hurried to the fortress. Her ride could wait.

* * *

"What proof have yeh?" Kale crossed his arms, a glint of challenge within his dark eyes.

Calli looked around the room from one old soldier to another and back to Marjan, who studied Kale from across the table, a heavy frown on his face.

In the worn and haggard face of the captain, she could draw a map of a grim land. According to what she'd heard, he'd seen his share of death, most of it at his own hands. He was rough but influential on the others. His judgment tipped the scales in any decisions in which he participated. If he doubted any of what Taelyn said, the others might also.

Except Marjan. His opinion counted more than any. "We've a dead horse. I've known no animal to run itself like that from any less than mortal danger."

"A dead horse is not proof."

"See for yourself!" The sudden disruption of Taelyn's conviction silenced the room. The seven other men turned to him. "They lay waste to our homelands. Every living thing is ash behind them. Cattle and sheep vanish. The people will starve within a year, if they're not first eaten."

Another soldier, a voice of reason among Marjan's council, raised his voice. "Where did these creatures come from?"

Men turned to one another. Calli looked to Marjan, who shrugged. No one knew the origins of these creatures. They came out of nowhere, as if they sprang from the pages of the old books.

If only Jayson was there. He had a fascination with legends.

"The problem is not whence they come but that they are." The calming voice of the elder soldier, Lauflan, diffused the building tension like a leak in a water sack. More gray than brown covered his head.

"Exactly." The lines in Marjan's face softened with relief and he leaned over the table, which—by the score marks—was once part of a supply wagon. "We've a new matter to concern us. Tyrkam threatens us less than these creatures. We must learn what we can of this new enemy."

A few heads nodded in agreement, but no one volunteered the inevitable.

A knot tightened in Calli's stomach. The conflict between her desire to see the world outside of Arronfel and the fear inspired by the sight of the dead horse twisted within her. She had to know what happened to her home in the palace, yet caution raged within her to stay safe in the valley.

For several long seconds, no one said anything. She caught the eyes of a couple men, only to spy the fear they hid before they turned away. No matter what they might say, they believed Taelyn. They had all seen the horse before it collapsed. They realized the truth of the terror that chased it to death.

"I'll go."

Heads turned to her. A sudden warmth rose to Calli's cheeks. That was wrong. She never intended to say it, whether thinking it or not. "I mean..." Despite her best intentions to stay, the part of her that wanted to know took over. "What friends I have will no doubt join me." She hoped.

Marjan's grim face hid the surprise slightly lifting the pitch of his voice. "I'd rather a lass as yourself—"

"I must." The conviction in her voice startled her. She lowered her tone and took a deep breath to calm her heart pounding in her ears. "I've too long settled here. My mission was to rescue the Lady Istaria, but that changed. I owe my life to the family. I must know what's become of Cavatar. Tyrkam, I expected. This, I've no knowledge." She let out a sigh and dropped her eyes. "I'll take a few others bearing my deepest trust. You—all of you—serve best through your experience. I've not near that but need to see for myself."

And she wished to find Jayson. She looked up to a curious rise of Marjan's brow. He probably suspected her true reason. "I must, or I'll never rest."

He gave a slight nod and looked to the others. "Have we no others brave enough to join the lass?"

Narrowed eyes and clenched jaws answered his question. None of them dared speak up, lest he look the fool by his tongue.

The grizzly old Kale grunted his sentiment. "The smaller the group, the better."

From what Marjan told her, Kale, reckless a warrior as he might be on the battlefield, spoke with the wisdom of experience. They would agree with him so no one joined her. He had, in effect, denied them any chance they might have considered.

If that's the way he wanted it, he could have it. Calli swallowed her doubts and straightened with the conviction of her choice. "Only a few." She brushed aside stray hairs with unnecessary force to steady her trembling.

It might have been a foolhardy plan, but they wanted more information. The only emotions she read in the faces of the men around her were relief and pity. Pity for her being the one to take on this mission and relief that Marjan let them choose not to join her. None would think less of her for backing down.

That was not an option. She had to go.

"The matter is settled." Marjan took in each pair of eyes as if trying to will at least one of them to join her. She appreciated that. At last, he gave a minute sigh. "Our Lady Calli will leave us to learn what she can o' this new threat."

Calli overheard a whisper from one officer to another: "Better that Marjan answer to no one."

She bit her tongue on a retort, but Marjan granted her the satisfaction of seeing the offender wither from his cold look. Whether he heard the exact comment or not, he knew the speaker never approved of their arrangement.

Perhaps it was best if she left.

"Good luck, lass," Marjan said.

_______________

# Jayson

Jayson climbed the hilltop overlooking the Abbregow River on its lazy course through what had once been land lush with foliage. Now, black ash and dust lifted in small clouds around each of his footfalls. His boots hid beneath a coat of it. Any snow in this area had melted from the fiery breath of the wyverns.

Since his emergence from the vault, he had easily found the path of the winged beasts and avoided becoming a meal for several. They left blackened debris in their wake, but they crossed paths with others. He knew not whether he followed the same group but that he was following some of them. They probably split and went their separate ways to wreak destruction on the world.

He halted at the knoll, his foot stopping next to a fistful of green grass scored black at the ends by the fires of the beasts. In the low valley before him, four red mounds crowded the landscape.

He dropped to the ground, careful not to send up too much dust and ash into the air. To cover his tracks, he focused his power on the wind to blow his scent away rather than toward the beasts. Unfortunately, it meant the scent of death carried to him from the wyverns.

The four beasts slept without fear in the open. The trees bent over from the weight of the beasts pressed against them. One slept on the remnants of a scorched building, its tail curled around the blackened masonry of the hearth.

What poor soul appeases you? He grimaced at the thought. For them to sleep soundly after just a few days of awakening from their three-thousand-year slumber could only mean full bellies.

They would take more if possible. He'd be sure to give them a bellyache if they caught him, but they wouldn't. A simple wide berth was all that he needed to avoid them.

As he prepared to back away, the desire to punish them for their atrocities stopped him. He caught himself arguing against his previous logic. As much as Jayson wished to kill them, four to one posed enormous odds against him succeeding. One dragon drew good odds against him. Not exactly what he liked.

I'll not chance it. I've not the power.

But he needed not that kind of power. The sleeping beasts blew wisps of smoke out their nostrils with each deep breath. They slept as they had in the vault. Perhaps this was his chance to make up for his mistake. If he could stab at least one of them in one of the two soft spots on its head, he could kill it, but the power of the beast could as well kill him.

Not even Haiberuk would dare risk it.

A tingle of power shivered through his limbs.

Jayson lifted a hand before him. The aura of magic shimmered in the afternoon sun like the heat off the land in the summer. He marveled at the transparent emanations of power and smiled. Never had magic flowed as freely through him. Had Haiberuk done this when he healed him? Or was this the master's idea all along?

Either way, his chances of success turned a little to his favor.

Now, how best to use this gift... His mind raced to form a plan.

While caution roared through his mind against the actions forming in his thoughts, he made his decision, and using the simple trick of invisibility, he proceeded with his plan.

The Red Clan remained sleeping at his approach, their deep breaths echoing in their bellies. The foul odor of decayed flesh topped with the stench of something he could not compare almost choked him.

He stopped in front of the nearest wyvern. A few of its jagged teeth protruded from its jaw. Rough scales lined its face and the crest of its head. The eyelids remained shut, but he dared not look away.

Jayson walked closer to the left eye and stopped. The eyelids covered a socket the diameter of his arm length. Despite the intimidation of the creature's size, determination seized him in his mission. Without thinking, he lifted his hand above his head as if raising a spear.

Borne from the energy coursing through him, a spear blazed within his grasp. Jayson looked up in astonishment for only an instant. He jabbed it down into the wyvern's soft spot a few feet behind its eye.

And found himself several strides back while the red wyvern twitched within a glowing ball of energy. With its magic loosed, it burned from the inside out. Magic crackled and snapped.

The other three stirred from their slumber.

As if watching from outside his body, Jayson saw himself rush to the next wyvern and attack with the same weapon as the first. Without pausing to watch the results, he hurried to the third of the four.

The red beast lifted its head to stare at the sizzling, smoking mound of its two kin.

The large yellow eyes scanned its surroundings with the fourth. Those two remaining wyverns stood up and spread their wings, howling with rage.

Jayson covered his ears in agony of the piercing shrieks.

He should be dead, but they ignored him. Was he still invisible? He'd lost his focus on the spell, yet it continued its effectiveness.

They searched every place but where he stood. Their dark thoughts whispered at the edge of his awareness as they communicated their desire for revenge. Finding no one to blame for the deaths of their kin, the two lifted from the ground. Their wings pounded the air.

Jayson covered his head with his arms. One thought troubled him—that they would take out their hatred upon the innocent. How could he follow? He could not allow anyone to die for his mistakes.

What of the others? Would they not also bring death and destruction on the innocent? He could not save them all. Only the true dragons could counter these terrible beasts.

He shaded his eyes to watch the two wyverns vanish into the distance. The dragons of Eyr Droc likely knew of the reawakening but had not the chance to react, or perhaps they planned not to.

Darius had taken Istaria to live with them.

Darius! Of course! One of the only Sh'lahmar he knew still alive, one who could help him. Someone had to convince the dragons to act. Jayson brightened at the thought and took his bearings by the sun to take on a new course. Although the decision to abandon Calli to the possibility of an attack by Lusiradrol pained him, duty called. If he allowed her to perish, he would never forgive himself. But if he allowed his feelings and emotions to interfere with his sacred duty to serve all mankind, he could never live with himself.

May fate protect you, since I cannot.

_______________

# Istaria

Istaria woke with a start. A hint of dread lingered from her dreams, dark dreams she could not describe within reason. She rubbed her eyes to try to clear them, but the strange images stuck in her head. Nothing would erase it but a distraction to anchor her in the physical world.

She sat up and pushed the silvery white braid of hair behind her. In the palace, a few courtiers had mistaken her for an old woman because of that hair and the veil she had worn to cover her face, until someone identified her. Now, at seventeen, she was a grown woman. Moonlight spilled through the tall window onto the smooth wooden floor and rugs. A gentle breeze played with the curtains hanging over the window. The bureau across the room held so little, and the rough angles created sharp shadows.

This was no palace, but it was her home.

Next to her, Darius snored lightly, his back to her. He had stood by her through many obstacles, but the baby within her would challenge them both. As a Sh'lahmar, he had lived his life to serve the white dragon. Now, he would live the rest of his life to serve his own child.

Their child. She rubbed her belly. As her middle grew, the nausea of the first few moon cycles waned. Her energy also returned. Although some scents yet churned her stomach, she resumed her teachings with Sethirngal, the eldest of the firedrakes, without interference.

With the resumption of lessons came the uncontrolled visions. The more she practiced, the easier the magic flowed. Precognition was one of the white dragon's best-known abilities, according to the others.

She wished it was something else, anything else. The visions were often of horrible scenes that caused a queasiness made worse by the pregnancy.

This hadn't been a premonition, however. The eerie sensations brought on by the shadow at the edge of her awareness disturbed her still after waking. She wanted to hide but could not escape the dread lingering over her heart.

She had faced it in the dreams, the looming darkness surrounding her. She had confronted it and her fears, but it was all a dream, not real. This was different, the physical world and not the imaginings of her mind, and the darkness still lingered.

She had to distract herself.

Istaria slid her legs off the bed and landed softly on the floor. The chill of the wood under her bare feet sent a shiver through her while the cool breeze billowed the ends of her nightgown around her ankles. Nights in that realm were cool but not cold.

She hurried to the door and pulled it open quickly to avoid making too much noise. Darius swore he'd put some oil on the squeaky hinge, but more important matters always distracted him. After a glance back to be sure Darius slept undisturbed, she slipped out.

Moonlight cast a faint glow on the banister overlooking the lower level. She followed it to the stairs and descended. Each time the wood creaked beneath her bare feet, she winced.

As she stepped onto the quiet main floor, a familiar voice reached out to her.

Istaria halted, listening.

Milady! Milady! A blurry, shadowy shape darted past her. She turned in the direction it flew to find that the reptilian drakin circled back to her. Its weight landed on her shoulder, and tiny claws pricked her skin through her gown.

Jaren blinked his large, dark eyes, which reflected the wan moonlight from the windows. He tilted his head in the jerky motion of a bird while settling his wingtip claws onto her gown for balance. She tried to stay still to lessen the pain of those claws digging into her skin to keep his balance. Although she would have preferred he land elsewhere, he was there and she had no intention of sending him away yet.

Milady, he said in a less frantic tone and squawked.

Istaria clamped her fingers around his extended jaw. You'll wake Darius.

Forgive me, Lady. I come from the dragons. They are always aware of events outside the gateway and wish only to protect you and the baby. Only today—

What's the matter? Jaren was useful as a messenger, but he was prone to jabbering more than she or anyone preferred. Interrupting him was a necessity of cutting an often long and unrelated discourse.

The old ones are troubled. They wish you to join them if you hope to save your realm. Lusiradrol has loosed her clan upon the lands.

Istaria put her hand to her heart to calm it. This was no coincidence. The chill of her sleep meant something—a vision of the present, or at least one interpretation of it.

She gave her hand to the small dragon-like creature. He crawled onto it. Wake Darius. Have him join me at the gathering place. Go now! She tossed him into the air.

Jaren fluttered up to the second-floor banister.

She hurried barefooted out the front door of the house. The gathering place, the large meadow favored by the five elder drakes, was close. She raced over cool grass, through the trees, to the group of various colored dragons in their place of council.

Five bodies ranging from blue to gold shimmered beneath the light of two waxing moons. With wings folded against their bodies, the dragons formed the points of a star. A cloud of smoke hovered around the center, blurring the reptilian heads ranging in accents from smooth scales to spiked.

Istaria stood at the outside looking in. Although she hated the smoke of their internal fire, she had no choice if they summoned her. The elder drakes were the five remaining of those who had battled the Darklord before he merged with the dragon embryo and lost his memory. The other elder drakes had died in the dragon wars. None of the other living dragons were born until after the black dragon. These five alone possessed the knowledge to battle the Darklord and his minions.

A long, graceful neck rose above the cloud. The moonlight set the smooth scales aglow on the gold dragon, Dethanea. She blinked large eyes set well back of the jaw full of pearly teeth. Come, child.

We've matters long due gone;

on your shoulders they rest upon.

This night bears ill

with the burden of winter's chill.

Curious but cautious, Istaria strode between two bodies to the cloud. At her approach, the four heads in close proximity pulled away, clearing the air around an orb hovering above the ground at the level of her eyes.

Colors blurred within the large orb. The images sharpened at her approach, and she stopped two strides away. What's this?

Her teacher, Sethirngal, blew a swirl of smoke from his nostrils and a faint growl rumbled from deep within his green body.

While men suffer, we cannot sit by.

To save the true we must try.

That leaves us one problem posed—

that you with child are exposed, said Frendal, a topaz dragon of rough scales.

Istaria frowned. I thought I was safe here.

From Lusiradrol's magic, you've no fear;

but other mortals may enter here.

Istaria inhaled sharply. She assumed only particular individuals could pass through the gate of Eyr Droc. The shock blinded her from a familiar presence in the magic.

The warmth of his touch on her shoulder startled her. She whirled on Darius.

"Easy, my love." The gentle smile melted some of her tension. "I followed as soon as I heard Jaren."

Istaria caught her breath and laid her forehead against Darius's chest. His arm over her shoulders drained away the panic and his body warmed her in the cool night.

Our time has come to step in, Sethirngal said,

if we are this war to win.

Your skills are needed here

to keep the future running clear.

Darius nodded his agreement. His eyes dropped from the dragon to her, the gentle smile on his face reassuring. "None will harm them. I pledge my life on that."

Dethanea dropped her head to meet their eyes.

A pledge you gave once before,

now to keep ever more.

"Do what you must. I'll protect them. You have my word." Darius rubbed Istaria's shoulders and held her close. "Our friends and family are at stake."

Istaria set her hand on his and squeezed it. Not one cycle of the first moon had passed since the release of the Red Clan from their long slumber. Although he acted unaffected, Darius had taken the news hard. His practices lengthened. Part of her wondered if he mourned his fellow guardians, despite his assurances otherwise, but his words assured her that he would stay at her side and not seek vengeance.

The drakin your watchers will be

along with the youngest of our family.

But the one called Jaren wills it so,

with us to carry messages will go. The dark blue dragon known as Darmîndren blinked and stretched his wings. The others also stretched in preparation for flight.

What of my lessons?

Sethirngal lowered his green head and fixed his large eye on her.

Many thousands of years had we;

as much they spent stationary.

Think not we shall be missed,

but back when all is accomplished.

Although she feared the worst, Istaria found hope in his words. I'm eager for your return.

Starting with the gold dragon, each took to the sky, heading in the direction of the portal to the First Realm. They returned to their first home, and hers. The Second Realm was only a sanctuary.

The last to take flight was her primary teacher, the largest of the elder drakes and the darkest of the green dragons. A touch of anxiety crept into her mind at his leaving. He had taught her much, yet many times made it clear that she had far to go in using the powers bestowed upon her by the spirit of Gilthiel.

After all the elder drakes vanished through the portal, she turned to Darius. I never thought I would miss a dragon's company.

"You've come far in little time." He lifted her hand to his lips and gently kissed the back.

Despite his and the dragons' reassurances, doubts lingered in her mind.

_______________

# Dorjan

Dorjan turned from the window to the scene behind him, exasperated to be in the same room as the spoiled young steward of the Wynmere territory.

"Never question my judgment!" Vahrik's dark eyes blazed with anger. Dorjan knew that look well. How many times had Tyrkam expressed the same hot temper in their early years, until experience and the discovery of the white dragon cooled his head? Vahrik took after his father more than either would admit.

This boy would never match his father, too spoiled on the privileges afforded him. Tyrkam had learned the hard way how to survive. He also possessed the patience necessary to achieve his goals. Vahrik, in his youth, showed none of that patience.

The eighteen-year-old sent the woman scurrying out of the room. A pair of armed guards stood watch at the door, leaving Dorjan otherwise alone with Vahrik.

The boy turned his scowl on Dorjan. "Will you also oppose me?"

Dorjan smirked beneath his ruddy beard and peered up from under heavy brows. Although he appeared many times the boy's age in his purposefully unkempt appearance, Dorjan was young by standards of those like him and could take Vahrik faster than he could blink.

But Tyrkam wanted more than Vahrik. The guards at the door were among many in the castle loyal to the petulant child. The boy hinted of what Tyrkam suspected—betrayal. Dorjan would need more information before sending word back to the overlord.

Fearing nothing from the boy, Dorjan took two steps to stop at the long table.

"Since I claimed my place, you've nothing but disdain, or dare I say jealousy? He made me steward of the western lands."

Dorjan said nothing, although his amusement struggled to escape. Never had he the desire for power and the risks with it. He merely advised Tyrkam and stood in the shadows to watch, just as his brother, Kaillen, had come to guard Muriel in her quest for information before following her in death. Dorjan harbored no interest in the affairs of the Second Race or those seeking power. The ways of his race were not theirs.

Rather, he had bided his time until the day he learned the truth of his brother's and Muriel's deaths.

"Speak, laggard!" Vahrik stopped on the opposite side of the table, a dark scowl on his clean-shaven face. "Say your piece. I see your thoughts work."

Tyrkam had ordered Vahrik beaten for letting the princess escape cycles ago. The boy's manners had not improved. On the contrary, the raging temper within boiled over more than ever.

"You wish to control me, too? I see it in your face. You think me less competent in thought and deed than you. I am keeper of the western territories now. My word is law."

For all intents, Vahrik's words indicated he tried to convince himself that he held authority. The boy lacked true confidence and masked the weakness in arrogance.

Vahrik slammed his fists on the table. "Damn you!"

A rumble too close for comfort shuddered through the stones at Dorjan's feet and up through his body. That was not the boy.

Vahrik seemed not to notice, his eyes still intent. "Shall I cut out your tongue?"

Ignoring the tantrum, Dorjan rushed to the window. The calm of the day greeted his eyes. It was too calm; something was wrong.

The trees past the clearing outside the wall stood naked, except for a light coating of snow highlighting the branches. The virgin snow started at the edge of the forest, where the troops housed below dared not tread.

He knew of the creatures inhabiting the forest from the strange sensations they caused him, but they never posed a threat; nor would they interfere with his mission. And they had aided the princess's escape. He had seen no reason to stop her.

On the other side of the castle, a sheer drop into the deep ravine through which the Braenbirn River flowed protected them from attack.

Another rumble vibrated from his boots, through his legs, and up his spine. It increased in intensity this time, yet nothing within his view warned of trouble.

"You will answer me!"

Dorjan turned and held up his hand to silence the boy. Could it be... Without a word, he strode out of the room, his insides twisting into knots of steel.

"I will not be ignored!" Vahrik's voice trailed after him. "Guards!"

With each successive rumble growing in strength, Dorjan's steps sped across the castle. Since Tyrkam had found the Flying Dragon amulet and made his deal with Lusiradrol two years ago, Dorjan wondered what else might return from history. Worse, what might attack.

He hated to prove his suspicions correct.

As he strode out the door and into the crisp evening air where his breath puffed into a fog, the rumbling grew louder. Soldiers stood in silence, their gazes fixed on the wall overlooking the ravine. Dorjan hurried across the courtyard, expecting something large to crash down on the wall at the edge of the chasm. Despite his hesitations, he climbed the steps to the top.

Another rumble nearly shook him off. He grabbed the stones of the balustrade to keep his balance from the vibrations and shock.

A claw crashed down on the wall and a red-scaled head rose above it.

He stared into the wyvern's yellow eye. Stones gave beneath the weight of the beast, sending him tumbling. He struggled to keep his place but rolled down the steps.

Dorjan rolled to his feet and pulled his sword in time to stare up at a large body of red scales. Lusiradrol had found her clan after all. The legends of his people warned of their evil.

Amid the turmoil throughout the yard around him, Dorjan made out the shouts of Vahrik commanding his guards to protect him.

"Fool," Dorjan muttered, his focus on the beast.

His sword would do nothing against dragon scales, but it felt better than nothing in his hands.

The dragon easily climbed into the courtyard amid the chaos and up the tallest building, using its wing claws for purchase. It blew no fire nor made any attempt to attack.

In only a few steps, the red wyvern reached the top. Stones and planks pounded to the ground as the roof on the top level collapsed. The red beast coiled its long tail around the keep and lifted its head high into the air.

Yellow eyes fixed on the forest of Wynmere and a sinister snarl curled back its lips.

Dorjan rushed through the throng of men, most staring in silence. He reached the open front gates as the dragon let loose with a stream of fire aimed at the forest.

Two more times the dragon blew fire at the bare trees. The thin layer of snow vanished beneath the heat of the flames reaching into the sky.

What was it doing? His thoughts echoed the questions asked among the guards.

The dragon finished its attack on the forest and lowered its head. It watched the flames from its perch atop the keep, a glint of dark satisfaction in its eyes.

"Do something! Were you not told to protect this castle?"

The petulance in the voice made Dorjan grit his teeth. If not for his promise to take down all of Vahrik's supporters with him, Dorjan would have slit the boy's throat at that moment. Although despising murder and bearing great patience, even he could not abide such whining.

Instead, he took a deep breath and turned to face the boy.

Vahrik frowned as if expecting more.

Too happy to oblige, Dorjan swept his arms aside to point at the wyvern on its perch. "Thereupon sits the beast. Not arrow nor sword shall pierce such hide. Have you better ideas, I'll hear them."

A low growl rumbled from Vahrik's throat, but he held his tongue.

Dorjan glared.

Motion from the red beast silenced all. It lifted its head and shifted its weight, gathering its hindquarters beneath it. It lifted its wings and let out a screech that rattled Dorjan's teeth. Like all others, he dropped his weapon and covered his ears to muffle the piercing wail. The flap of wings beat at the air above. Something had upset it, but it did not attack them.

Still holding his hands over his ears, Dorjan turned to the forest. A blue glow gained strength, extinguishing the flames from each tree.

The dragon ceased its shrieking objection to once again blow flames on the barren trees.

This time nothing happened.

"The forest—It is enchanted!" one of the guards said.

"Of course, it is." A self-satisfied smirk slithered up Vahrik's face.

Dorjan retrieved his sword from the mud, uneasy with this new development. Why did the dragon attack? Would more follow to continue its work?

The beat of wings pounded the air. A few men fell back from the onrush of wind. Dorjan braced himself against the wall.

The angry beast flew over the forest and let loose another fiery assault. Although it attempted to destroy the trees, the protectors of the forest smothered its fire. No return attacks came from the forest.

With his personal guards beside him, Vahrik ordered men to organize repairs to the castle.

Dorjan shook his head and cleaned his muddy sword on his cape. "You must send a message to Lord Tyrkam."

Vahrik scowled. "Send a rider...if you must."

Dorjan gave a nod and strode away, glad to put distance between the brat and himself. He would catch Vahrik soon. The disrespect grew by the day and would continue until Vahrik broke. The boy could be manipulated to show his true loyalties all too easily.

_______________

# Vahrik

Vahrik snarled at the old warrior's back. Dorjan always questioned his decisions. Both Dorjan and Tyrkam conspired against him. They would see that he, Vahrik, was better than them both combined. His word would be law and then his father would realize his true potential.

When Dorjan disappeared inside the keep, Vahrik looked up again at the crushed top floor. Tyrkam would find a way to blame him for the damage.

"Milord."

Vahrik turned to his lieutenant, a young soldier of similar age with a rough voice. Cathair had joined him from the far southwestern fjords of Hadeon and pledged his loyalty only to him. He had been the first, and together, they had organized the others.

"Follow me." Vahrik led him to the living quarters. They needed privacy to speak to assure that the wrong ears would not hear.

Once inside the intact structure attached to the keep, they diverted to a private room. There Cathair closed the door behind them, sending a dull thud echoing in the chamber.

Vahrik stomped to the windows. "If not for that Isolder wench vanishing, I'd be free of this. He'll never trust me now." He paused long enough to ball his fingers into a fist and slam it into the wall. "Damn them all!"

Plaster of knotted gold design flaked off to reveal the raw stone beneath.

"Milord, what of the dragons?"

Vahrik turned on his chief advisor. "Let them eat him. Better, get me what magic protects that forest. With such power I'd not fear the dragons."

Cathair raised an eyebrow.

"Do it!" How dare the soldier question him.

In a flowing motion, the young man bowed and whirled away. In a few long strides, he was out the door, and it closed between them.

If he possessed what magic the creatures of the forest used to extinguish the flames, he, Vahrik, might find a way to defeat Tyrkam with it. The idea flourished within the vortex of anger in his soul, drawing a smile to his lips. Yes, the defeat of his own overbearing father would satisfy him.

A shadow chilled through his soul.

"Why ask the boy for tricks when a sorceress can give you so much more?"

Vahrik straightened at the silken voice and turned to face her. "Demon wench."

A sinister smile curved up black-red lips. Lusiradrol glided from the shadows with the silence of a predator stalking its prey. "No different from your father." She traced the gold-threaded design along the front of his black tunic before turning her eyes up. "You also underestimate me, little prince."

His temper flared at the insult. Vahrik grabbed her delicate, feminine hand and squeezed it so tight any ordinary woman would have knelt in pain and begged his mercy.

Not Lusiradrol. Her smile grew, and darkened. Vahrik shuddered from the cold shadow that fell over him and released her hand as if stung.

"Much better." She might have laughed but it was a small, cold sound. "Now, have you any desire to live, you'll open your ears."

Sure, he would hear her purposes for bothering him, but he did not have to cooperate. He crossed his arms and watched her circle around him toward the window draped in dark linen. "What do you want?"

After a brief pause, she lifted the covering aside and peered out. Something malevolent passed over her in that moment.

Vahrik blinked and found himself a step back from her.

"Destroy the forest." Lusiradrol dropped the covering and turned to him, all semblance of amusement gone. "You saw the attack. They live in the forest, thrive on the life there. I want them gone. Cut down the trees. Burn them to ashes. Whatever it takes, I want it all gone!"

Vahrik restrained a smile. Have you a weakness, Lusiradrol? Can you not have your way this time? Tension slackened within his muscles. Here was a power play he might use to his advantage. "What is the worth of this act?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Destroy the forest and I'll give you the princess."

"The Isolder cow?"

The sly smile crept back to her lips as she approached. "If I feel generous, I might toss in her little friend too."

"Darius." The woodsman had caused him trouble from Tyrkam for their taking of the princess and hiding her that day she escaped. When he visited the single-room house all those cycles ago, after the disappearance of the princess, Vahrik had felt something odd. The air had sizzled with tension. Darius had feared him, something out of character for the bold but silent woodsman. When Vahrik returned later and noticed the small footprints in the soft earth next to the woodsman's larger prints, his anger had consumed him into burning the house to the ground, but it lacked the satisfaction of torturing the woodsman. He would love the chance to unleash on the man what Tyrkam had on him plus much worse.

"Not Darius. Your mystery rebel."

Vahrik sucked in a deep breath. The bandit from the rumors. "How?"

"When guilt bears the burden upon one's heart, friendship and loyalty carry the soul."

He frowned, uncertain what riddles she spoke.

"She's of minor consequence to me, but of some importance to you."

"She." A woman. They had suspected, although he doubted a woman committed the acts reported. That a woman could take on several men at once and walk away without harm intrigued him. Here was a woman he would enjoy taming.

"I have your interest?"

Vahrik snapped from his sadistic fantasies and focused on the dark woman once more. Her smile teased him. She was desperate to raze the forest. The creatures helped the princess escape, and he wanted it destroyed as much. But, if she wanted it enough to give him what he desired, why had she not done so herself?

She could not.

For the first time since her appearance, a smile crept to his lips. "Cannot the mighty Lusiradrol, who can grant me my desires, not fight her own battles?"

His throat pinched. Vahrik gasped for breath and clawed at his throat, but his fingers could not remove the claw. He blinked, making out a shadowed visage hovering above him.

"Do not forget who I am—what I am." The deep growl made his heart pound and the air thin.

With unexpected suddenness, he gasped for air and received it. He sucked it in gulps, seeking to relieve the throbbing of blood in his ears and chest. Weakened by the sudden attack, he braced himself against the wall.

"I'll not tolerate insolence from any man. Do as I ask, and this incident will be forgotten."

Vahrik looked up at the slender figure standing with her arms crossed and all the fires of the Dark Hills blazing in her eyes. "And if I dare not?"

When the fires flared hotter, he flinched. Her menacing scowl sent a shiver down his spine.

"Deny me nothing," she said in an icy tone, "or you'll be next!"

A plume of fire consumed her in an instant and as quickly vanished. He stood alone in the room, able to breathe and think again.

In a few seconds, he made his decision. Considering Lusiradrol's strength against him, he dared not challenge her. Although bold in facing her this time, he now understood why Tyrkam feared her. Never again would he underestimate her.

Besides, she made a delicious offer. He would destroy the forest for the chance to punish the princess and the woman who caused so much trouble for them.

Vahrik breathed deeply of the pleasures to come. Not only would he have the pleasure of the princess and the woman who could defeat men, but Tyrkam and Dorjan would not dare to turn against him with Lusiradrol at his side.

_______________

# Calli

Calli pulled her fur-lined cloak tight around her throat. The woolen wrap covered her face against the biting cold as the leggings and coat warmed the rest of her. The rough leather of the gloves prevented her reins from slipping through cold fingers. The two men with her were dressed much the same.

Their horses wore quarter blankets attached to the back of their saddles, gifts from Marjan for taking on the risk. Having lived in the warmth of the valley, the horses' winter coats had yet to grow long for the cold season.

When they had first emerged from the magic hiding the entrance to the valley, Duke let out a snort at the white of snow and tossed his head. Fresh and fattened on the lush grass of Arronfel, he had crow-hopped beneath her and picked his feet up extra high with each step.

After several days of travel and sparse grass, he walked with his head low. They needed rest and good feed. She had not considered the consequences of winter travel on the horses.

Winter had hit full force over the land. The horses stepped through the white fluff covering the roads. The foothills contained less snow than the mountains, by the few inches covering the grass. They could rest for the night and hobble the horses to graze, since they would not find any farms in that area.

Calli patted the gray neck and reined Duke to a halt on the hilltop. He responded without objection. On either side of her rode Ellead, the farmer's eldest son, taller than his brother who had stayed at the fortress, and the stout, black-bearded Fenwar, the younger brother of the blacksmith and also his apprentice. She trusted them. Each led another horse packed with food and a few supplies.

Through the covering over her mouth and nose, she said, "We camp here tonight." They nodded their agreement and dismounted. The cold gave them one benefit—Tyrkam's army had given up their pursuit of Marjan's forces into the mountains and left the area. She hoped he never returned.

After erecting a temporary barrier against the eastern wind, they spent the night in the valley huddled around a warm fire with wood from the scattered trees. By morning, the horses tossed their heads in better spirits.

In the following days, they stayed off the roads and stopped at occasional farmhouses for recent news and warmth, especially from the harshest weather. Calli heard stories of terrible red beasts picking off the occasional cow or horse and sometimes taking a person. She shuddered at the memory of Taelyn's story of the fire-breathing beasts with claw-tipped wings pursuing him into the mountains. Both Ellead and Fenwar expressed their discomfort of the situation and the possibility of facing one of these dragons but vowed to stay with her.

After little more than a couple snowfalls and another eight cold days, they reached the edge of what had been Cavatar's border with Hadeon.

Calli led the three through the trees and rocks along the banks of a shallow stream partially frozen over to leave only a central channel of flowing water. A hill rose on the opposite bank, blocking their sight to what lay beyond. Unconcerned, they let the horses drop their muzzles to drink the flowing water.

With the shushing of the horses' steps through snow-covered grass quieted, other noises reached her ears. The stream trickled over rocks and tree roots. A few winter birds twittered in the trees. The chill of winter hushed across the snow and through leafless boughs. The active stream raced ahead of the freezing air and the approach of nightfall.

Calli let out a sigh, her eyes on the sky above for the red death that haunted the land.

"Not a raider in sight, milady."

She glanced aside at Ellead, who scanned the wilderness around them. "Be glad. I've no love of fightin."

Fenwar snorted. "I'd not o' guessed it."

"You've not known me long enough."

"I'd rather raiders than those dragons." Ellead shivered.

She agreed completely on that. A cold shudder ran over her shoulders, and she pulled her cloak tighter to her and studied the land around them. So far in their journey, they had spied one of the horrible creatures from a distance and only briefly as it vanished into the sun.

"Best to find shelter for the night." Gray clouds threatened snow that day, and the horses needed rest to continue. She had no intention of trading Duke for a lesser mount.

The two men agreed.

The horses finished their fill of the cold drink and splashed through the flowing water to the opposite side. They climbed the steep embankment at an angle, finding some footing on the wild grasses beneath the snow.

At the top of the hill, Calli halted Duke. Her heart froze in her chest at what her eyes beheld.

Ellead gasped.

Still a ways ahead but too close for comfort, one of the red beasts chewed something large. Hooves and legs hung from its jaws. Blood dripped from large, sharp teeth. For a wide radius around the beast, the land was black with ash. It posed a stark contrast to the gentle tufts of snow beyond.

Calli knew she should back away, but horror froze her thoughts. She could only stare.

"M'lady—"

She tilted her head aside at Fenwar's whisper, her eyes focused on the gruesome dragon tossing its meal up to open its jaws wider. The dead animal slid down the dragon's throat.

When he said nothing more, she tore her eyes away to him backing down to the river. She followed his lead. With all luck, the dragon would not notice them.

They dipped below the knoll, the red mound no longer visible.

Ellead pointed at the edge of a forest down river from where they had watered the horses. Calli nodded and led them to the barren trees. It might not hide them, but it would make them difficult targets.

As they neared the leafless boughs, a chill froze her blood. Duke snorted, his head perched high with his ears forward. He stood like a rock, like the other horses. All five heads fixed on something ahead to the left.

"I—"

Calli held up a gloved hand to hush Ellead.

Branches swayed in the wind whistling through the trees.

Upon it rode something else. Another sound set her on edge, something faint and indistinct, but not natural.

The bay Fenwar rode blew out its breath in a long snort. She half expected him to bolt, but the gelding remained under control.

Over the wind, a low rumble sent a shiver down her spine. Calli swallowed, afraid of what creature made such a sound. She guessed only one, since she knew nothing like it in her eighteen years.

From behind came a roar muffled by the hill. The unholy beast moved swiftly, or was not alone.

Calli glanced at both companions and pointed into the forest in a line diagonally away from both threats. The men nodded agreement and followed her.

She took the lead, urging Duke forward in spite of his hesitation. The horses trod through the snow one-by-one, leaving only a single trail.

Although they left the dragon behind them, the hairs at the back of Calli's neck stood up. Something other than the chill of winter made her shiver. She scanned the trees they rode through. Nothing moved, neither squirrel, wolf, nor bird. Her heart raced and her hands gripped the reins tight. Duke pranced until she noticed how stiff she sat.

Nothing followed. Why worry? She relaxed in the saddle, and Duke slowed his steps.

A rumbling roar shocked her out of her skin. A flap like a tablecloth shaken in the wind tore her eyes from the land. Above the barren trees soared a red beast. Its reptilian eyes fixed on them, its jaw opening.

"RUN!"

The others already fled. She gave Duke his head, and he surged between the bay and the chestnut to take the lead.

Behind them, a blaze erupted within the forest. It rained down from above, following their trail.

Icy wind stole her breath through the scarf. In sharp contrast blew the heat from behind.

The crackle of smoldering branches rose around them. The trees burned like candles.

Duke stretched his nose ahead, and Calli leaned low over his neck.

She glanced back. Ellead and Fenwar stayed close at her heels. Small relief when the dragon swooped low overhead, its jaw once more opening.

She focused ahead, made a quick decision, and reined Duke into a tight turn to the left. From the corner of her eyes, she caught the other two a little slow but following with the pack horses.

The lumbering beast above let out a shriek and soared skyward with the flap of its enormous wings. It could not maneuver with its prey. With Duke full out beneath her, she continued to race. Neither fallen logs nor boulders slowed him. He ran in panicked flight.

Low branches slashed at her face. One snagged her hood and nearly choked her with her cloak. The thin branch snapped off before she lost her balance. She ducked others, but a couple snagged her hair briefly.

When the giant shadow loomed before her, Calli barely had time to avoid it.

She gulped and looked up. Her heart thumped against her chest.

The dragon glided down from ahead, its tooth-filled jaw opening. This time it ducked low. She realized in an instant its intentions. No. It could not end like this!

In an effort to avoid the beast, she sat back, intending to turn Duke.

The gelding slid on the snowy ground, tucking his hindquarters beneath him so he almost sat, but the slippery ground sent them sliding toward the open maw approaching.

Please—please—please—please... In time with her rapid heartbeat, her thoughts repeated. She closed her eyes, hoping Duke could rollback before becoming dragon food.

In the instant before he regained his footing, a slap of wind knocked them down. Duke fell beneath her. Calli kicked free and rolled from the saddle, barely avoiding being crushed by the horse.

Trees splintered around her.

She ceased her roll and brushed snow from her face. The cold clung to her skin with her hair and froze her cheeks.

A glistening body of gold scales blocking her view of the red dragon, whose tail slapped up from beneath gold wings. The larger dragon stood on four legs, its wingtips free of claws. The smooth scales contrasted the rough, jagged scales of the smaller, red dragon. Best of all, it seemed not to care for them, its intents on the red beast.

"Are you hurt?"

Calli turned to Fenwar, who stopped his mount without incident. She rose to her feet.

The gold dragon snapped at the neck of the red beast, which jerked away.

Wishing to put distance from the fighting leviathans, Calli rushed to Duke, who stood trembling. She took the reins in one hand and, with her other, rubbed the horse's face to calm him and herself. He made no move, except for the quivering of his entire body.

"Easy boy." In spite of her best efforts, her voice shook with the fright of their close encounter.

The crashing of bodies behind them blended with the flapping of wings as the red dragon took to the air. The gold pursued, and the chase carried them beyond the flattened swath of trees.

"I'd not have wagered our survival," Ellead said in a low voice. Silence settled over the forest. Only the fast breathing of the horses disturbed the peace.

Something was wrong.

Calli looked back beyond the grassy, muddy smear left by her and Duke. "Odd."

The other two followed her eyes.

"No fire," Fenwar said.

Calli nodded. "Exactly. How can that be?"

"I wish not to find out," Ellead whispered.

She nodded in full agreement, wishing to stay less than he. Having nearly become the next meal of the red beast made her less inclined to stick around to find out if it would return for another try. Or worse, if the gold dragon would return. Perhaps the fight had been over which dragon would have them first. That could not be right. It let them go, choosing to pursue the red beast rather than pick them as a meal.

Only one problem hindered them. Duke appeared uninjured but for the strain of his muscles, but she dared not risk further injury.

Despite her concerns, he chewed the bit and nuzzled the fur of her winter cloak with his normal calm. With a smile, she laid her head on his neck and took a deep breath of the scent of horse sweat. It filled her with a new strength and calmed the steady thudding of her heart in her ears.

If she could survive that, they had a chance. "Good boy," she whispered.

Taelyn had said nothing of other dragons. Were there others like the gold? Where had it come from? Why did it chase the red?

The twitter of a few birds filled the silence between her and Duke. Life returned.

The dragons were gone.

"I think we've less to worry now." Calli patted Duke's steaming neck and looked up at the men on their sweaty mounts.

"Pardon me saying, but are yeh mad? Not natural is the fire that vanishes. Unless my eyes deceive me, we've to be careful of other enchantments."

As much as she wished to believe the enchantment that extinguished the fire worked for their good, Calli understood Fenwar's concerns. After their experience, she would use more caution.

The scattered clouds cleared before the sun descending to the horizon. They needed shelter for the night. None of them wished to linger in the forest.

They had to ride on.

Calli led Duke through the snow, watching for any lameness or injury, but he followed without trouble.

Seeing nothing wrong, she mounted the gray gelding, and they continued through the forest. Normal sounds followed them, but something else lurked among the trees. She only hoped they took no offense to the three of them riding through, whatever had extinguished the fire.

_______________

# Calli and Jayson

Seeing fresh wagon tracks and no sign of dragons lifted the clouds from Calli's heart.

They rode in peace.

Without any distractions, her mind drifted to the past. Whether a cue from forgotten emotions or habit, she played with the pendant on the chain about her neck. Calli caught herself and glanced at the men on either side of her. Neither of them paid attention. Perhaps she played with the chain so many times that they no longer bothered to care. Had it become such a habit?

She held it up in the evening light and studied the seal of the Isolder family, a five-pointed crown with stars at each point circled by a braided ring. For that General Marjan respected her as the Lady of Arronfel.

The meaning went deeper than a simple token of her past. It sealed a promise by the prince of Cavatar, Phelan Isolder. When she left him so many moon cycles ago, he vowed she would be his queen when she returned.

Calli looked on the promise now with nothing more than a sense of loss. The palace had fallen with the rest of the kingdom to the hands of Tyrkam last summer. Phelan had left the continent or fallen with the palace, depending on which rumors one believed. Because the king was bent on keeping him away, she tended to the former. She also wanted to believe he survived.

She had promised to return to him. He had given her what she needed for her journey—a good horse, a sword designed specifically for her, and training with two of the best weapon masters. Only when she discovered she could not return did she begin to let him go. With it went her past.

And came a new purpose. The day the news came, she vowed to free the land and return it to its rightful heir. She also let another into her heart that day.

Calli lifted her eyes to the gathering clouds above. Her heart lifted with the face passing through her memories. Where are you, Jayson? Why did you leave?

As she had left Phelan, so Jayson had left her. Her heart went with him on whatever quest he tried to say but not say. Surely by his face he had shared her feelings.

She could have claimed the love of either man but did nothing. She was a fool, a lonely fool.

With a sigh of regret, Calli tucked the pendant back into her shirt beneath the coat. A bitter wind stung her cheeks and her energy. She adjusted the scarf over her nose and mouth. They needed warm shelter for the night.

All roads connected to villages. Sooner or later, they would find a village and likely an inn with a warm bed.

* * *

Jayson studied the smoothened snow, saw where the horse had fallen from all the impressions of the tack and hoof prints. They had barely escaped.

He knew before this.

From a safe distance he had watched the wyvern finish the cattle. With such a meal in its belly, it should have slept for at least a day. All dragons were sluggish after a large meal. Like the half dozen he had killed while they slept, he expected to follow the same pattern with this one.

Unfortunately, the appearance of the three riders over the hill had caught the eyes of the beast. When they turned, it followed. The riders had headed into the forest, unaware of the danger in the sky. The lead rider rode a gray horse that almost blended into the landscape. Jayson's heart had skipped a beat when he caught a view of red from under the hood.

At that point, he had reached out through the magic surrounding him for her effect on the colors. Just as he remembered, Calli's radiance shone through the flow of power.

Using a power he could never before sustain for long, he had conjured an orb in which he could not hear words but could watch.

He had seen Calli.

Watching her sliding toward the red wyvern swooping low to claim her as its meal had frozen his breath in his chest. Not until the gold dragon interceded did he breathe again. He had seen her coming but had doubted the gold would reach them in time.

Had he the power, he would have transported himself between Calli and the wyvern, but no less than one of the Great Magi could cast such magic.

At least they came. The dragons of the Second Realm would aid in the battle against the Red Clan. Now, the Red Clan would not have free reign of the world.

After the attack, Jayson traveled as fast as his feet could carry him through the snow. It had taken him a night of travel to reach it, but he had at last arrived in the old forest. Luckily, the weather cooperated and left their prints for him to follow Calli and the others.

Never had he imagined finding them beyond the safety of Arronfel, especially in winter. He had hoped she would remain there, except for Lusiradrol's threat. If she intended to follow through with it, at least she would not find Calli there. Small comfort. If she truly wished to harm Calli, Lusiradrol had other means to find her. The black dragon must have noticed the magic flowing differently around Calli and used that to locate her in their previous encounters.

Jayson opened himself to the magic of the forest. It flowed through him, connecting him to the creatures protecting the trees. They had guided Istaria to Darius and extinguished the flames blown by the wyverns. Now they showed him the path Calli had taken through their lands.

Safe journey, mage, the guardians of the forest whispered in his mind.

Jayson threw a salute to the hundreds of hiding faces and adjusted the hood of his cloak.

It seemed another lifetime since he had met Calli, but with luck he would soon rejoin her in this one.

With his cloak blocking the icy wind, he followed the multiple paths of horses through the snow to one. It wound through the trees for a length, until it reached a road. There, he lost the trail amid other prints. From that point they must have followed the road. No tracks led off.

_______________

# Tyrkam

Tyrkam let out a deep, contemplative breath to cool the frustration tightening through him. He had allowed the old woman and her companion to "heal" the queen, never suspecting their true nature.

Only one person may have known. After the queen's disappearance, and Lusiradrol's entrance, he had sought out Makleor with the intention of demanding an explanation. No such luck. The wizard could make himself scarce when he wished.

No one knew where the old man hid. Some swore he roamed the halls, mumbling to himself. Others reported him vanishing through the walls like a ghost.

Whatever the story, the wizard knew. If Tyrkam had to return to Wynmere and burn the wizard's prized books to lure him out, he would do so. Whatever the cost, the one person who could protect him from Lusiradrol would feel the force of his anger for abandoning him.

"Meddle not in the affairs of wizards. No."

The amusement in the voice halted Tyrkam's steps across the quiet room and set his blood boiling.

"Never a one for wisdom." The bodiless voice chuckled.

With a growl in his throat, Tyrkam spun to face the source of the voice. "Show yourself, old man."

From a shadow stepped the hooded mage, his gray beard hanging down his chest.

"Hmm? Yes."

A chill crept down Tyrkam's spine at the coolness of Makleor's tone. He considered the old man short a few hairs from his beard. That tone, however, bore a cunning edge.

"Tell me the truth. What magic took the Lady Damaera from this place?"

The tap of the wood staff on stone was the only sound the old man made as he stepped closer. Tyrkam caught a glint in the good eye.

Makleor stopped within easy reach of Tyrkam's sword.

"What know you of the Lumathir?" Makleor asked.

"Witches. They hide in their ancient city practicing magic." Or so were the rumors. No one knew where their cities were, not even in his homeland.

A smile played beneath the beard. "They tricked you. Yes, tricked. A fool heeds no one but is easily fooled."

The old man spoke nonsense. Never in the years since they met had Makleor spoken sense to him, but the mage aided his army. For that reason and because Lusiradrol feared him, Tyrkam tolerated the old man's strange ways.

"No fool am I." Makleor chuckled. His gnarled and bony fingers clutched his staff for support. For all the frailty of his body, true power lurked within. Perhaps it was all that kept him alive.

Tyrkam smiled with false charm, smoothing the ring of black hair around his mouth. "Humor me, old one. Where has the lady gone?" He doubted the wizard would speak the truth, but perhaps he was senile enough to answer the question.

"You've ears. Do they not hear?"

Tyrkam tensed, biting his tongue. If he evaded his questions one more time, Makleor would find himself impaled.

"Have I not already said she is with the Lumathir?"

"Riddles. Be gone!" Although he needed Makleor now more than ever with Lusiradrol's clan loosed, Tyrkam could tolerate no more of his insanity. Giving him the answer after taunting him soured his mood, and he was in no mood for the wizard's nonsense to begin. From their first encounter, Makleor had spoken nonsense, but his predictions had an uncanny knack for coming true.

Part of him wished the old man would leave, but he dared not risk it. He needed the mage to fend off Lusiradrol. The amulet might defend him from magic, but it was useless against physical weapons.

"No wisdom." Makleor mumbled to himself and turned to leave. "A child, but not the same."

Clenching his teeth on a curse, Tyrkam watched the old man hobble away to the door. The guard opened and closed it behind him, but the old man needed no help if he could travel in shadows. Tyrkam was no closer to using the queen than he was before the wizard showed himself. Makleor had played a part in it, of that he was certain.

If the old woman and her apprentice were Lumathir, the answers he sought had slipped through his fingers, but he could have done nothing to stop them.

Rather than dwelling on what escaped, Tyrkam turned his thoughts to what came next. Lusiradrol had ordered him to destroy the princess. He needed no orders nor promises to punish her for taking what he prized—the power of the white dragon. If Lusiradrol could show him how to find her, he'd send someone. He already knew who that would be.

Tyrkam turned to the guard. The helmeted soldier straightened. "Find Shadow. I have a task for him."

The man acknowledged the order with a slight bow and exited the room.

Once the door thudded shut behind the guard, Tyrkam stood in the room alone with his thoughts and the patter of a mouse somewhere in the shadows.

The man known only as Shadow had earned his name. He was a master of death and talented in stealth. He had joined Tyrkam before the siege of Wynmere Castle, and eliminated the king's brother and family, opening the door for an easy conquest. With the princess surrounded by magic, only Shadow's proven stealth skills would help him get close to her.

Tyrkam leaned over the fireplace mantle, gazing into the fiery fingers clawing at the air. It warmed his front and danced with images of the future.

He blinked away the burning on his eyes and caught a glimpse of a woman with an evil grin for a brief instant. Tyrkam blinked again but the image vanished. Was Lusiradrol checking on him? Or was it his imagination?

A chill swept through the room and nearly blew out the fire. He shivered. Have you a word to say, speak! I've no time for games.

Despite the faint hint of laughter, she made no appearance.

"I've no trust of her."

Tyrkam spun at the unexpected voice and spied the man dressed head to toe in black like his namesake. Shadow. Tyrkam had never heard the mercenary enter the room, but such was this man's skills. "Trust is not a word to describe her."

The man who gave his name only as Shadow smiled beneath the cover of his hood. The dancing flames turned it into a sinister grin. He stood in the gray light with the aura of death hanging over him.

Many times Tyrkam had called on him for swift retribution. Shadow always succeeded. This would be his most challenging mission. "A task she wants completed that I've not the time nor skills."

Shadow stood frozen, his blue eyes fixed on Tyrkam from beneath the hood. Never would he speak unless necessary. Tyrkam wished many times that Vahrik could learn as much. He should have sent this man to track the princess, not Vahrik, after her escape with Darius, but Shadow had been too far away at the time on another mission.

"Lusiradrol wishes the princess brought to her, for the same reason I wish her alive."

"I understand." The calm Shadow wore belied the seriousness of the matter. "She is no ordinary princess."

The smile returned, and this time Tyrkam saw the truth. Something in the man anticipated the sport.

"A power she possesses," Tyrkam said. "Magic greater than any other. Lusiradrol would deny me my right to that power...The Isolder girl will not be easy to claim. In a 'Second Realm' she resides, if Lusiradrol speaks truth. I know not how to reach it. She does but cannot pass through." If that was the truth. For all he knew, Lusiradrol could have lied to send him on a fool's errand, which was why he called on others.

"I know this place."

Tyrkam studied the steel visage, but Shadow betrayed no emotion. Unlike any other man he met, Shadow gave away nothing of what he thought or felt. He carried out each task without empathy.

"The dragons of old retreated to the Second Realm to escape the hostility of men." As cool as ice Shadow spoke.

Tyrkam nodded, hiding his surprise that the man knew this fact. If he had his way, all the dragons would be put to death. The few times he had encountered them, they spoke in riddles to answer his questions.

"You know then the challenge awaiting you."

A sly smile crept to the assassin's lips. "They've returned to this, the First Realm of their ancestors. She'll be vulnerable."

How did he know? Tyrkam focused on the man's face for anything that might betray him. Blue eyes sparked with intrigue beneath a heavy brow, his face a mask of neutrality. As Tyrkam expected nothing, Shadow lived up to his reputation.

In the end, how he knew was not as important as the knowledge itself. It would serve him.

"Bring her to me, alive preferably, but dead if you must. I'll pay double your price if you retrieve her alive."

This time he made no mistake of interpreting the malevolence casting a dark light over the assassin's face. "I ask no reward, my lord. I'll bring your princess in appreciation of the information you provided."

The glacial calm of the voice chilled Tyrkam. The only emotion ever from the man.

He might never know why. Shadow kept all information to himself. Tyrkam never asked, since the man carried out his tasks without fail. Tyrkam's main concern now was the princess and satisfying Lusiradrol and his own thirst for revenge.

As silently as he arrived, the assassin departed. The hooded figure opened the door and merged into the realm of his namesake.

With such a man to carry out his plans, Tyrkam would have the power soon.

_______________

# Makleor

Makleor shivered, although the chill came not from the air. He stopped within the shadows of the corridor as a twisting disturbance in the magic neared and waited. Voices echoed through the corridor from two servants approaching.

"Was not a one could speak. Udwe says Cook stomped out then."

The younger woman gasped. "Did he hang her?"

The first shrugged. "Slapped her an' warned her to hold her tongue, he did." Their eyes passed with disfavor over Makleor and they hushed their gossip.

He cared not but reached out through the magic to test the essence of each. Neither sent more than the soft ripples through the magic of most mortals. The odd stirring of magic came from behind them.

Makleor hobbled past them without any show of interest, although he noted two of the large hunting hounds Tyrkam favored following the women. The upright ears pointed forward with muzzles lifted towards the women, both with thick hair as black as ebony and eyes as piercing as a wolf's.

The twisting in the magic centered around the farthest dog.

After they passed, Makleor turned and focused on the intruder. It paid no attention to him but continued on as any hunting dog expecting its rations or scraps from the last meal.

Few shapeshifters were ever born to the whole of the world. No more than one could count on one hand lived during any point in time, excluding Gaispar. The identity of this one troubled him. Never had he encountered this individual, but he rarely left his chambers while with Tyrkam, except to visit the forest of Wynmere.

He could not follow without arousing suspicions, but Gaispar could.

First to find her.

Foregoing his walk, Makleor hobbled into an empty room. With no one watching, he rested the end of his staff on the floor and gazed into the crystal held by the carved dragon at the top. Picturing Gaispar in her true form in his mind, he called forth her image. A white wolf appeared in the crystal against a backdrop of snow-covered trees. When his magic found her, he called on the power again.

A portal formed and he stepped into the scene.

The white wolf jerked as if startled and blinked at him. Gaispar immediately transformed and bowed her head. "Master."

"Have you errands, my dear?" Ever since the dragons had left her with him for training, she had used formalities when deferring to him. In three hundred years, he had never corrected her, but left it on her terms.

She looked up and blinked sparkling blue eyes, the same blue as any descended from the Majera gifted with some use of magic, the children of Light. This one was as any shapeshifter, however, and carried no more weapons of magic than her primary ability and the simple mindspeech used by all of magic.

Gaispar shook her head. "None, but to observe for the lady and return with news."

"Good. I've need of your abilities." He took a deep breath. She said nothing but waited for him to explain. "Another shapeshifter has come to my attention. He has dealings with Tyrkam. I cannot follow without notice, nor can this body endure pursuit. You are the best I have for this task."

"As you wish. Where is this one?"

"I last encountered him in the palace of Cavatar, following two scullery maids. His presence left a twist within the magic as a good man bearing a darkness of the heart. Powerful too, as that of a mage."

Her throat flashed when she swallowed. She realized the implications. Rare were the shapeshifters but even rarer those with mage powers besides.

With his good eye, he studied her closely. "You've no more than changing your form to protect you, but the immortality granted will provide healing if needed."

"I understand."

"I know not for what vile purpose Tyrkam uses him." Perhaps the time came to give more attention to Tyrkam rather than Lusiradrol. "Be careful."

Gaispar gave a nod, a knowing smile on her lips. "Always." She threw up her arms and flew away into the sky in the form of a hawk.

Makleor sighed, almost wishing he could have found another. But he trusted her and knew she was capable. She was ready for this, but he could not stand to see her hurt. If the other did serve Tyrkam, she would likely suffer in some way if she confronted him. Except for the Majera, even an immortal could be killed under the right circumstances.

Knowing he could do no more and realizing by the darkening sky that the long winter night approached, Makleor called forth the magic once again. He stepped through an invisible portal and into his tower in Wynmere Castle.

With a thought, he drew the shutters closed and set the logs afire in the hearth. Stacks of books littered the small room. A layer of dust coated the table near the door, where his quill and ink bottle lay next to a pile of scrolls. The door remained shut, as it should be—he protected it with wards to keep out intruders. None could enter without some tricks of magic when he was gone, and he had been gone a while.

He sighed, and his old bones creaked with death. He wished it would come, loathed the immortality placed on him. And yet, had he not been cursed, the white dragon would not have been able to return. The bearer would have fallen to attack long before they were able to reach the dragons. In that way, the white dragon had used him.

Such was his penance for allowing Lusiradrol to lead him astray.

The end loomed near now, perhaps a few more years for him.

_______________

# Dorjan

Dorjan stopped on the wallwalk and frowned at what he saw at the edge of the forest. Had Vahrik proven himself useful after all?

More than a hundred men toiled in the cold winter air, overseen by none other than the boy. They chopped trees and drove horses to pull the heavy bundles back to the castle.

His neck prickled with caution. Vahrik only worked when he had something to gain. After the dragon's failure to burn the forest, this endeavor made Dorjan wonder. The dragon had been one of the Red Clan, which served Lusiradrol. The boy might have made a bargain with Lusiradrol to finish the job.

This bode ill for Tyrkam if Lusiradrol made promises to the boy, and she likely had.

Dorjan pulled his hood over grizzly hair and hurried to find someone he yet trusted to carry word to Tyrkam. Few remained, but he knew where to find them. As the warlord suspected, Vahrik gathered a following. Soon, Dorjan hoped to bring them to justice. For that matter, he could send an update to Tyrkam of his progress.

They would take the entire group of traitors in one blow and he could move on to more important tasks.

To that effect, he would inform Tyrkam of Vahrik's activities and his suspicions of conspiracy with the dragon woman.

When he found one of the soldiers he trusted, Dorjan passed the message to him. Disgruntled by the authority given to the younger men recruited by Vahrik, the soldier swore to hurry the message.

Even in the best conditions, however, the fastest pace would mean half a moon cycle to the palace. If he was lucky, Tyrkam would send back a unit of loyal soldiers to ensnare Vahrik, but in the best conditions, they would not arrive for another cycle after the message arrived. Winter complicated matters.

In the meantime, Dorjan was on his own. That meant continuing to keep one eye open when he slept.

_______________

# Lusiradrol

The light of day dared not touch a brick of the decrepit fortress. Timbers lay strewn, decaying like the corpses of those who once inhabited the keep hundreds of years ago. Winter seeped into the sanctum of rubble and rot.

Sitting next to a fire in a corner, Lusiradrol fed her anger. The heavy clothes she wore protected her from the elements without the use of magic and hid the lithe form the white dragon cursed her to wear. As a dragon, she had inspired fear in the hearts of those who saw her, the black dragon, the one gifted by their master. As long as she had lived, she had been the master of the Red Clan. She only regretted hatching after the true master had disappeared.

The pounding of air interrupted her thoughts. It preceded the quaking of the ground beneath her. Twice she counted them.

Sssissster!

The urgency of the call snapped her from reaching the boiling point of her hatred. Her black heart cooled for the moment.

When a red-scaled head poked into her living space, she scowled her annoyance. "Why do you interrupt me?"

The dragon exhaled. Smoke rose from each nostril, snaking and coiling toward the ceiling. Reptilian eyes blinked. Our numbersss dwindle. The eggsss are not ready, and sssomeone hasss found a way to kill ussss.

Despite using mindspeech because of a lack of the right vocal organs to form words—an advantage of her human form—they had never overcome their hissing. Too stupid, she knew. It had never been a problem for her, the gifted of their master.

Lusiradrol's fury returned in full. It fed her power. With it the darkness in her opened. She tapped into it to find a well of power deeper than she expected. Thrilling in the reserves filling her, she smiled. Here was real power she could use against Makleor! "Show me."

On her command, the dragon opened her mind. The name Nasfaren came up. Lusiradrol probed the dragon's memories but found nothing helpful. She saw the storm of power consuming her sisters, but no sign of the one responsible for the death.

"Idiots! Stay alert next time!"

We mussst sssleep after sssuch a big meal, Nasfaren replied. It isss nesssesssary. It isss how the massster made usss.

"Eat less next time." They should not have eaten so much if they knew of that weakness. She had never gorged herself.

Worse than that was that someone had discovered a way to kill her dragons. They spoiled her plans. She had invested too much time deciding how best to manipulate events to her favor to have them ruined. One way or another, the white dragon would not return. She would curse his spirit to the netherworld forever.

For that, she needed the individual attached to him. She needed the princess. Tyrkam took too long. There had to be another way.

Ignoring the dragon quietly puffing smoke curls inside her living space, she conjured a seeing orb. Lusiradrol focused her magic and found the man who had accompanied Calli. While walking a road through a forest of snow-covered trees, he stopped and turned to face her.

He looked directly at her.

Lusiradrol sneered. "Mage." He could not see her but must have sensed her presence. That meant more power than she suspected.

Proving he could not see her, he shrugged and turned to follow the path again. Lusiradrol scowled. Death to you, mage.

But first, return to the one who possesses your heart, fragile human. The stronger the bonds, the harder they are to cut.

He cared for Calli. That much she was certain. His eyes gave him away. If he cared enough, he would do anything to prevent harm to her. Lusiradrol could take advantage of that.

What ssshould we do about the killingsss?

Although annoyed by her sister's need for guidance, she could not blame Nasfaren for the stupidity. The Darklord had made the Red Clan that way to prevent any from becoming a threat to him.

All but her.

A sly smile spread across Lusiradrol's face. He gave her much more than any other and would be pleased if he could see her carry out his purpose.

A shudder of magic passed through her like a cold breeze but disappeared before she caught it. No matter. Whatever it meant concerned her not for the moment.

Keeping her dragons alive mattered more. Who could kill them? Based on the images recalled from the dragon, the individual must have used magic. Only a mage could leave no mark. They had found a way around the defenses of her kind.

"Mage!" She snarled the word. Only one man possessed such power.

The old fool! But how could he? Makleor could barely get around, much less inflict harm on her dragons.

"Who then?" She sensed no surge in magic, except...

The dark forces inside her stirred. A cold shadow passed over the fire in the hearth, extinguishing it. Lusiradrol turned to Nasfaren, and a deadly calm passed over her. Yes. Destruction and death, and the end of a group she despised. With her clan, no one could stop her. "The witches will interfere no more."

She doubted the Lumathir had sent their own to kill her dragons, but she couldn't risk ignoring them anymore and destroying them excited her. For too long she had desired to cut the magi down. With her clan to aid her, she could now carry out those plans formed over the millennia.

What passed as a smile stretched scaly lips tight over the dragon's teeth. A deep rumble vibrated from its throat like an avalanche of boulders.

Focused on her new target and lusting for their blood, Lusiradrol smiled. She and her dragons had decimated the men who held them captive, Haiberuk's precious Shinna rî Aflahamar. The women of the Lumathir would soon realize the same fate.

Lusiradrol closed her eyes and reached out to the minds of her dragons scattered over the world. She should not have been able to, if the stories that only the original Darklord and Majera possessed such power were to be believed, but she could. They eagerly obeyed.

With the witches of the Lumathir gone, only Makleor would stand in her way. He would be no match alone. Knowing his limitations fed her hunger for revenge.

Soon. The magi would be no threat, the white dragon would never return, and the world would be hers again.

_______________

# Jayson and Calli

Jayson shuddered at the eerie sensation and stepped carefully through the trail left by the three horses. Lusiradrol. Her dark power chilled his soul. She followed him again. This time he knew not why, except as a personal vendetta to see the last of the Sh'lahmar die.

"Vengeance." His whisper turned to ice in the cold air as it left his lips. Had she discovered the slayings?

Not possible.

Not probable, but always possible. Anything was possible. As proof, he reminded himself that finding Calli outside Arronfel—in winter, no less—proved anything was possible.

He was close to catching her and the others. They rode horses, but he gained ground on them—another improbable situation made possible because of the horses' needs to rest and take longer to eat than their riders.

His heart thudded against his chest at the thought. Soon he would be with Calli again. This time, he could tell her everything he knew.

This time he would not leave her.

A shadow fell over his soul. The familiar menace froze his breath. Jayson stopped in his tracks along the open road and looked up.

The red wyvern drew in its wings and dove toward something ahead of him.

Calli was ahead of him.

"No." His voice escaped on a breath. The fog dissipated as his heart nearly leapt from his chest. "Not again."

They would not take another person he cared for, especially not her.

He saw no other dragons to save them this time and broke into a run. With the new magic he had learned to use, he could defeat the single dragon, if he could reach them before it was too late.

"Calli! Calli!" He hoped she heard him and looked back to see the danger closing in.

* * *

Calli frowned and turned her head.

"What is it?" Ellead scanned the scattered trees around them.

"I thought I heard something."

"I heard many things these last days. I've no need to hear more." Riding directly behind her, Fenwar's wary voice reached her without trouble.

She twisted back to see him shudder. Whether from the biting cold or the strange noises he referred to, she could not say. She preferred not to know.

After seven nights traveling through the forest, they neared the edge, or must have been close since the trees thinned. The dragons bothered them no more, nor did whatever dwelt within the snowy forest. She breathed easier knowing they would soon leave the enchantment behind.

"That I'll agree." Calli turned back to the route they picked through the trees. "I thought I heard my name."

"I'd not doubt you in this forest, but reason denies it," Ellead said.

She shrugged not a second before Duke's head jerked up with his ears facing behind and his body tensed beneath her. He jumped forward, resisting her efforts to restrain his flight.

"Easy, boy! Easy!" She pulled on the reins. Duke shook his head in protest but continued his panicked flight.

"Dragon!"

Calli ducked a low branch before risking a glance over her shoulder. Ellead and Fenwar lost control of their mounts and the pack horses pulled away. With some control, Fenwar guided his horse a different direction. After the last dragon attack, they had decided to split up to avoid the kind of disaster that nearly killed them last time. One of them followed plans.

A roar from the heavens shook her courage. She regained some control of Duke and was able to turn him, even if she could not control his speed. The last time a dragon attacked, the horse had reacted quicker than the lumbering beast. She needed that control now.

Ellead turned his horse sharp to the left as she reined Duke to the right.

A stream of fire shot past on her left. The heat warmed her through her clothes.

The dragon howled and swooped into the sky. The wind of its passing slapped her back.

Duke let her slow his mad dash to a controlled gallop. She guided him through the thinning trees and brush.

On either side, Ellead and Fenwar ran parallel but at a distance. The red beast circled overhead. What did it plan? Could it plan?

If so, they needed more of a strategy than running to escape.

Calli slowed Duke to a trot, saving him for the next onslaught. They could never outrun the dragon, nor could they outmaneuver it forever. They had been lucky last time. This time, she expected nothing else to interfere. They were on their own.

Fenwar approached, his eyes scanning the sky and the forest around him while he struggled with his mount. "I've no likin' o' what the beast may think."

Ellead remained at a distance, safely away from her and Fenwar. "We need a plan. If it comes to combat—" She shuddered at the idea of facing down such a beast. They would never survive. How had the men of the old legends battled these creatures?

Fenwar paled but nodded his head. His eyes darted up for an instant.

Calli checked the whereabouts of the dragon. It descended on them. "No time to think."

Fenwar took her words as his cue to break away.

Calli looked from him to the dragon, her mind running in circles around what to do. An idea took shape. Calli shuddered, but she had to do it. Someone had to stand up to the beast to give the others a chance to escape. Neither Fenwar nor Ellead stopped with the same idea. Here went her life.

She drew her sword and pulled Duke to a stop. If combat was required to face this foe, then so be it. Her eyes fixed on the red body diving from the sky. Despite her standing her ground, the beast took chase after Fenwar. Come, you hideous beast. I'm right here.

The serpentine form swooped down on the horse and rider racing full out among the scattered trees.

For an instant, as the dragon's humped back blotted out the sun, she gasped. A flash of memory—or had it been a vision—superimposed upon the image. Jayson, she recalled of the dream back in Arronfel. Had these red beasts killed him?

"No." Her whisper froze in the air the moment it left her lips. With all her heart, she refused to believe it.

A deep roar shook through her. The dragon slowed its descent with outstretched wings. Jaws full of sharp teeth opened, and it caught up to the horse and rider.

"Turn." Her quiet urging never reached the pair. Without touching down, the dragon grabbed both horse and rider in its jaws.

Horrified, Calli sat frozen. Duke stood still as if the same emotion grabbed hold of him. All they could do was watch the beast land and set one hind leg on the neck of the still struggling horse. They could not save him. With its jaws, it tore the man from the saddle.

An agonizing scream cut short when the dragon threw back its head and gulped Fenwar whole. It then ripped apart the horse. The giant head came down, and the animal's flailing ceased.

When the red head rose with blood dripping from its jaws, Calli closed her eyes. The image stayed with her, nauseating her. She took a breath to settle her nerves but made no move to run. What good was running if such a creature thrilled to the chase?

She refused to give the beast what it wanted. In standing to fight, she would give it exactly the opposite. Perhaps Ellead would escape during her distraction.

She found some comfort in that thought.

When the red head with its rough scales rose above the trees, she swallowed her doubts. The dragon fixed its hideous yellow eyes on her. Using the claws on the top of its wings, it stalked towards her. Each step pounded over the snowy land.

She fought with Duke to stand his ground. He reared but did not run.

A deep rumble emanated from the dragon as it crept up like a cat upon a mouse.

Run, human, a voice commanded in her head.

Calli blinked but refused to give in. "I'll play no more games!"

Ssso be it! The dragon opened its jaws and sent a plume of fire at her.

Calli kicked Duke hard in the sides, but he jumped away of his own accord. The heat warmed her back, narrowly missing her.

Duke squealed and fell into a drift of snow. Calli's stomach lurched with the hard landing.

Slightly dazed but unhurt with some room to spare in the snow, she pushed herself from the saddle, her leg coming out from beneath the horse.

Duke threw his front legs out and struggled for footing but could not stand. Calli pushed on his shoulder to help him as he let out a deep squeal of pain.

With a look back to the approaching beast, she saw why he could not stand. "Duke!"

Smoke rose from blackened hind legs and exposed tailbone. Singed flesh left the snow red and black.

Her eyes blurred with tears, and she pushed on him with all her strength to help him stand, but he could do no more than sit with his front legs out. "Get up, boy. You can do it." She doubted he could stand. His hind legs with white bones and ligaments exposed refused to cooperate when he tried to move them, but she couldn't lose the horse.

The dragon was nearly on top of them.

Covered in powdery snow, Calli rose to her feet and positioned herself between the gelding and the dragon. She would not end this without a fight. First Fenwar and Hersod, now Duke, and, quite likely, herself.

With the back of her glove, she swiped the chill of tears from her cheeks and gazed up at the beast. It stopped before her, its yellow eyes daring her to take the first strike. Behind her, Duke breathed hard from his efforts but quieted his struggles.

Give me your horssse and I may ssspare your life, the strange voice said in her mind. The dragon's voice. It had to be.

"Never!" Fear gripped every muscle of her body, but her loyalty to the animal stayed her feet. Duke was all that remained of what she loved most. He was the last close friend left to her. She would never abandon him, especially not for a dragon's meal.

With one last hope, Calli lifted the sword and recited the prayer on the crossbar. Her father had taught it to her as a young girl when teaching her to wield his sword. For all the times her prayers had gone unanswered, she deserved this now.

As she whispered the prayer in the native language of her father, small flecks within the sword sparkled into a green glow. Her heart thumped in her chest and strange sensations tingled through her.

The dragon let out a howl of rage and opened its jaws.

Calli swallowed but repeated the prayer: "Aler ni Ûnsura lâreth na dôa nodral rassîl ther shenîel najêr n'îrdra."

The dragon loosed its fire upon her.

Calli swallowed and continued to recite the prayer to the point that it became a steady chant consuming her thoughts with its meaning. The glow of the sword intensified. The green light enveloped her and flowed over her like a wash of cold water blocking the fire of the dragon.

When the fire passed, she caught her breath and blinked in surprise. She was unharmed. The glow subsided, and she stood on trembling legs.

Impudent! The dragon hurried towards her. It opened its jaws—

Calli rolled away as it closed its jaws upon where she had stood. She swung the sword, but it deflected with a clang from hard scales.

Duke struggled again. She reached a hand to his face. Gratitude warmed her soul and fed her courage. Whatever magic lay within the sword had protected him also.

The dragon growled its frustration.

Calli smiled with renewed confidence and rose to her feet with the sword before her.

The dragon snapped at her.

Duke squealed and resumed his struggles. Without taking her eyes off the dragon, Calli tried to soothe him with her voice. "Easy, boy."

The dragon paused, its yellow eyes studying her for a moment.

It struck. Calli ducked and rolled away through the cold, wet snow.

A horrifying crunch ended Duke's last squeal of fright.

Calli jumped to her feet, swiping snow and wet hair from her face. Shock trembled through her at the gruesome sight.

"Duke!" She choked on the name. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes. Two gray legs hung from the dragon's jaws as wing claws ripped the saddle from the rear half of the carcass. After gulping the front half of the horse, it lunged down for the rest.

Calli stumbled backwards, too stunned to think. She had betrayed her only remaining friend.

Tears streamed down her face, uncontrolled. "Duke." A lump in her throat blocked her voice from rising above a whisper. She stared in disbelief at the carnage left in the snow.

When the dragon finished, it lifted its head with what seemed to be an insidious smile. Slowly, it skulked towards her.

She struggled backwards, her eyes on the monster, but a slippery slope impeded her escape. With the sword before her, she remembered the prayer. It flowed off her lips in a constant stream, drawing from whatever power lurked within the sword. The green glow returned.

She continued sliding along the snowy slope for a way to escape. The dragon approached warily this time.

When the hill blocking her path sloped down to meet the ground where she stood, she backed up. Relief poured in, and she turned and fled.

Searing heat blasted her back and legs, the force of it knocking her forward into the snow. The stench of cooked flesh filled the air until darkness descended.

* * *

Jayson heaved to catch his breath from his run and watched in amazement. The green glow emanated from the sword and surrounded Calli. It deflected the fire but did not deter the beast.

Rather, it enraged the wyvern, but she maintained the magic shield while backing away.

While he slid down the steep hillside, he missed her dash for freedom. Jayson reached the bottom in time to see the wyvern stomping towards the smoking figure in the snow.

"Calli!"

He never paused to wonder or consider his own life but ran as fast as he could through drifts ranging from ankle to knee deep.

"Here!" he called to the beast, waving his arms for attention while running for Calli.

The wyvern lifted his head and let out a screech. Wait your turn.

"If it's all right with you, I'd rather neither of us had a turn."

Jayson reached Calli and dropped down into the snow at her head and threw a handful of snow over the fire still smoldering on her clothes. Part of her hood was all that remained of her cloak.

He grabbed the sword still clutched in her hand and held it between him and the dragon.

The dragon drew back its head slightly in preparation to let loose a blast of fire.

Jayson called forth the magic of the sword with his own. Flecks of green throughout the blade glowed, increasing into a steady light as the magic washed through him. When the dragon blew a stream of fire, it parted around him, leaving him untouched.

Dragon scale! He'd heard of such weapons. Only a swordsmith trained in the ways of the Ancients could have forged her blade; tales of the days of the dragons told of such powerful weapons. The sword was not made for her by accident. Someone knew she could use the power in it.

No time to wonder. He called on the power before the wyvern reacted. This time he used the power within him in combination with the simple magic imbued by the particles of dragon scale mixed in the metal of the sword.

Power flowed like liquid fire through his body and set the sword ablaze with green light. It burned to white cold. The wyvern closed its eyes to shield itself from the intensity of the light.

Jayson pointed the sword at the beast and let loose the power. A stream of green-white energy struck the red wyvern, knocking it down but not killing it. Its scales were too hard to penetrate, except through the two soft spots that allowed an opening to its brain.

The red beast lay stunned, unable to move, and Jayson took the opportunity. He jumped to its head and, using his free hand, conjured the energy spear and slew the beast.

He leapt back from the energy sizzling about the body and melting the snow around it.

While the enormous beast burned in the crackling energy, Jayson bent over Calli. He laid his hand to the red flesh of her lower back exposed through the smoking clothes. Her skin had cooled in the air and life drained from her core.

"Calli..."

Jayson removed his cloak, spread it on the snow next to her, and rolled her onto it. Death had turned her face ashen.

"Calli!" Panic crept into his soul. "I'll not let this happen. Not now."

The magic inside him pressed for release. He let it guide his hand to her chest, where no breath rose. His heart froze as a part of him connected with her spirit. She lingered in the world yet. Now, if Haiberuk gave him enough power...

Without questioning his safety, he let loose the power of life. It seized him and rushed down his arms and through his hand into her. With a warmth like the sun, it flowed from him.

Calli gulped a breath of air, and her eyes fluttered open for an instant. As suddenly as she reacted, she fell still.

The magic waned, leaving him cold. Her chest rose and fell with the steadiness of sleep.

Jayson breathed a sigh of relief, noting the quiet of the land around him. His eyelids grew heavy with the fatigue numbing his body. The cold of the air and the enormous use of magic drained him, but he refused to let his exhaustion overpower him. He had not saved her to succumb to the cold. They would both die.

He sheathed her sword at her hip, where it belonged. The prince had it specially commissioned for her. Hearing mention of the man had pained Jayson's heart when she told him, and he pressed no further for answers, but now he had to know the sword's origins.

Concerned for her well-being more than his comfort, Jayson wrapped Calli within his cloak and lifted her. They needed shelter.

It took no time to locate her saddle. A red and black blotch of mud where her saddle lay sickened his stomach.

"Poor horse." His murmur dissipated as a cloud in the air.

With little effort, he found the familiar essence lingering in the place of Duke's death. She loved that horse, even loaned him the noble gelding as a temporary mount to reach General Marjan after finding Arronfel. He never forgot her words to the horse. She had expected Duke would carry him safely back to her, but whether because of deeper feelings or simply his skills with the others, he never asked. He had feared the truth would be not what he wanted to hear.

Fighting exhaustion, Jayson laid Calli on the charred earth behind the blood stain. They could use some of the provisions from the saddle.

While untying the blanket and other trappings, the steady thump of hooves rose from behind him. When it stopped, the horse clinked the bit against its teeth. The rider shifted his weight with a squeak of leather.

"Jayson?"

He turned and smiled weakly up at Ellead, Eldred's oldest son. He should have known the farmer's son was one of the two with her.

"We need shelter."

Ellead nodded and dismounted. The hot horse stretched its head down to its legs to satisfy the itch of the bridle while its body steamed with sweat and melted snow. "Aye. We passed a farm not far back." He studied the stain on the snow, a sullen expression on his face. "Duke."

Jayson nodded. A somber silence filled the air.

"After the first attack we agreed to split if another happened." Guilt sank Ellead's voice.

While trying not to think of the tragedy, Jayson finished removing the provisions. "Take these." He handed the boy the saddlebags.

They could have done nothing to help. In fact, Calli had far exceeded his expectations. That she survived a direct confrontation with one of the Red Clan amazed him, even if she would have died without his help.

Ellead slung the bags over his strong shoulders.

Jayson unrolled the blanket and wrapped it around Calli. He then picked her up in his arms and looked around. "Where is the other?"

Ellead dropped his eyes and licked his lips. "Goddess take his soul—The dragon got Fenwar."

After a moment, Jayson took a deep breath to settle the sorrow rising. At least one of the brothers from each family was still safe, or so he assumed. "Mount up."

Ellead frowned.

"Someone has to keep her balanced. I've not the strength to carry her far."

"But you—"

"Never mind me." Right now, shelter and Calli's recovery were their highest priority.

The boy did as commanded and mounted the hot horse. Jayson lifted Calli up to him, watching her face closely for any signs of pain or waking. She never moved, except for the light rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

Carefully, Ellead settled her on the saddle with him.

Jayson took the reins and trudged through the snow where the boy told him to go. His body ached from his dash through the snow to reach them and he was weary from his efforts and little sleep, but he must continue.

He had barely arrived in time, but he would do more if it meant saving her.

* * *

The smell of burned flesh faded. A voice called her name but from a distance. A sense of lightness carried her up, and she saw herself lying face down in the snow. The red dragon hovered over Calli's body with a hungry glint in its eyes. At that moment, everything blurred with the surreal quality of watching a dream float by.

Images faded and the world blurred into bright light in all directions. No pain nor cold touched her.

Is this a dream?

["You should not be here yet,"] a firm, familiar voice said in Lôringai, her father's native tongue.

She turned—

And gasped. "Father!"

Tears filled her eyes, blurring the familiar image of the tall, strong man she remembered. She rushed to wrap her arms around him and buried her face in his chest and cried. Gentle hands stroked her hair. It all felt so real. If she dreamt, she never wanted to wake up.

["Listen, Callisara."] His voice carried the same commanding but gentle tone she remembered from when he requested her to do something. She would have walked to the ends of the world for him. ["You must return. The land of spirits has no place for you at this time."]

["I want to stay with you."]

Kaillen shook his head, fiery red hair brushing his broad shoulders. He glanced aside as a woman materialized. Tears glazed her hazel eyes that could have been Calli's staring back from a mirror. With her small, perfect nose and prominent cheekbones, the woman reminded her of someone. Calli wished she could match a name to the image.

["It's not your time. They need you."]

Calli turned to her father. He squeezed her shoulders in reassurance.

["You must go back. I taught you all I could. If you learned anything, I hope it's the courage to face your fears. We're proud of what you've become."]

["No. I want to join you!"] Didn't he want her with him? Who was this other woman?

["Not yet. In time, you will. That time is not now. We have to leave, but we'll meet you again when the time is right. Trust the Sh'lahmar, Calli."]

["What is the 'Sh'lahmar'?"]

He said nothing but took the hand of the woman in his, and both faded like smoke.

["Father?"] She ran to catch him, but he vanished from her grasp. ["Father!"]

[And stay away from shadows,] his faint voice called.

She ran towards his voice, but her feet grew heavy. Her whole body weighed down until she fell as if from the sky.

In an instant, pain racked her body. It overpowered her and the world blackened, but not before Jayson's face flashed before her eyes.

_______________

# Jayson

"More cider?"

Jayson shook his head. "Thank you. No."

The woman flashed a polite smile and pulled her shawl around her slim shoulders. She ducked back out with the pitcher, and the door creaked a couple notes in closing behind her.

He turned his face to the heat from the crackling fire next to him, his thoughts returning to his battle with the dragon.

He knew of no mortal besides the m'athêrred rî Lûmea, the children of the Light, who could use any form of magic. Granted, the power had been limited, but Calli had used it. It had obeyed her.

He held her sword in his hands. Although the pommel was sized perfectly for Calli to carry it two-handed, he could not. The ornate design wrapping around the pommel from the end to the crossbar could only have been crafted by a master. The delicate scrollwork at the end twisted with vines and leaves of polished brass. Thereupon was the clue. He had never examined her sword in detail before. He never had a reason, thinking it just a more delicate blade made smaller for her and the designs of decorative value.

Now he saw it, the words in the language of the Majera. The curving letters that appeared to be vines and leaves could have been mistaken as part of the detailed artwork. Calli had told him of the prayer etched into her sword in the language of her father, but he'd never seen anything.

He was from Loringale! That was it, the answer he sought. The Ancients. It could not be, but he saw the proof for himself in the writing and the flecks of green dragon scale throughout the blade. When she told him, he had a sense of familiarity but had forgotten what it meant.

All Sh'lahmar boys learned the history of the world, with the language of the Majera passed down through the ages by one of the Creators, Haiberuk. Lôringai had changed some from the original Giardran tongue, but only in dialect. The people of the remote isle were one group of only a few hidden from outsiders. But they detested the outside world; or, more precisely, they despised the Second Race and the magi. Why would any leave the protection of their islands?

From where he sat at the foot of the bed, Jayson looked down at the content expression on her face. Calli slept soundly beneath the warm blankets. Flaming curls of red splayed out over a soft pillow like the radiance of the sun.

If her father had come from the island of Loringale, then Calli was a direct descendant of the men and women who had built the great fortresses, the same who had battled the Red Clan so many millennia ago. The Majera had gifted them as a race with the use of magic.

Jayson turned the sword over, reading the "prayer" inscribed, which roughly translated as "I call upon Creation to grant me the power of this sword for protection against my enemy." If that was the meditation she invoked, it explained the shield. If not for the dragon scale contained within the blade, the words would have meant nothing, calling as it did upon the sword's power. This sword's power came from the dragon scale of a green dragon.

Indeed, your prince wished you to return unharmed.

A deep breath from Calli stole his attention. He set the sword beside the bed and watched her stir from her deep slumber. If she knew any of this, she played ignorant very well.

But he doubted she would lie. She had no reason.

When she was ready, he would ask.

Content to wait, Jayson smoothed away a soft curl from her face.

The matriarch of this small farm cottage, Llaeryn, had cleaned Calli, who had slept through it. From outside the door, Jayson had heard her say, "Poor child," more than a few times. He hoped the magic he had used to revive her would heal her completely.

After tending to Calli, Llaeryn had asked if they wished Calli to wear "proper" lady attire. He insisted on men's clothes. However, the only ones in the household belonged to her husband and three stout boys. The shirt covered Calli to her knees while the breeches required adjustments. Llaeryn busied herself with that project.

Without a daughter of her own, the woman was more than happy to treat Calli as hers. Her sons had taken Ellead under their wings.

These were the good folks of Cavatar. They understood hospitality and what living truly meant.

Jayson reached for the lump under the blanket that was Calli's hand lying at her side. The warmth of life greeted him through the wool blanket. A modest relief.

He leaned forward with his head in his hands. What would they do now? Should he take her to Eyr Droc?

He had no reason or right to withhold the truth from her any longer. Her intent was to rescue the princess. Originally, he could say nothing because of his sworn oath to guard the secret of the vault. Now, he had nothing to protect. His original purpose had escaped from the cavern.

But she might not feel the same about him. Jayson could not bear to know she would return to the prince if he reappeared. He could tolerate unrequited love better than losing it if she changed her mind. He refused to be only a reprieve to tide her heart until her true love returned.

Better to say nothing.

Besides, she might not like him much after he told her the truth. How would she take learning that he had known about her friend the whole time but had said nothing? Anything he might have said would have led to questions he could not answer, because of his vows.

He could think of nothing more to say. His vows had bound him to the Sh'lahmar and the secret they guarded.

The soft rustle of blankets alerted him to her waking.

She groaned and rubbed her eyes. When she shifted, her knee bumped against his back.

Jayson took a deep breath to settle his unease and forced a smile. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

"What? Where am I?" She worked her mouth and grimaced. When she spoke, her voice was raspy. "Tastes like old mattress stuffing."

Jayson chuckled. "Then I recommend the hot cider, but I must wonder how you know what mattress stuffing tastes like."

Calli blinked and pushed herself up on one elbow. "Jayson?" She rubbed her eyes and looked again. Her face brightened. "Jayson! I must be dreaming."

"Not a dream. This is quite real."

She sat up slowly, her face pinched in pain. "Ooh. How long was I out?"

"Two days." He watched her, unable to take his eyes off. Too long had it been since they had talked, each day an eternity. He had longed every moment to see her again. Now, she awoke and his insides fluttered and twisted with his desires and fears.

She stopped short of sliding her legs out when she lifted the blanket to expose bare skin from her knees down. Chagrin flashed across her face as she flipped the blanket over them.

"Llaeryn's making adjustments to one of the boys' breeches."

Calli nodded in understanding and pulled at the shirt. She peered at Jayson with a questioning lift to her brows.

"You can thank her for that too."

"I hope she finishes the breeches soon."

Not knowing what to say, since he wished not to risk offending her with what he thought, he changed the subject. "You took a risk facing that dragon."

She dropped her eyes and swallowed. In the flickering light, he thought he saw her lip quiver. She looked up with watery eyes, and his heart crushed with the confirmation.

"I'm sorry."

Calli gazed into the fire and shook her head. "I wanted it..." She sniffed and covered her quivering lips. "To be a dream. A bad dream."

Jayson slid along the edge of the bed next to her and pulled her near. Before he could say anything, the tears gushed out of her in torrents.

Fool, he chastised himself. He should not have mentioned it so soon after she awoke.

With her face pressed to his chest, he held her tightly and rocked her. As much as he wished he could take away the pain, only time would heal those wounds.

Calli pulled her arms out from between them to embrace him, her tears soaking through his shirt. He ignored the chill but wished he could take away the pain that brought them.

"It was horrible!"

"I know." Jayson kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek against it. "I know," he said more quietly.

She calmed a little and he continued to soothe her beyond the end of her tears, refusing to let go and wishing she would stay in his arms. How long it would last once she heard the truth ate away at his soul.

After what could have been half the night, she took a deep breath. "I saw my father."

Curious about the revelations of her ancestry, Jayson said nothing and listened to what she needed to say.

"I miss him so much." Still holding him, Calli turned her face to the side to speak clearly. "He said it was not my time to join him and told me to 'Trust the Sh'lahmar'; whatever sense that sounds."

Jayson tensed. How could she have known? None of the others survived that he knew of, and he had been there. Only Darius remained of the elite guard, and he lived in the Second Realm. She could not have met him. Where would she have heard the word, unless she truly had spoken with a spirit? She had almost died.

After a long quiet, Calli pushed away and studied his face. "You...know something. You always know something."

He made no move to escape her touch when she brushed his loose black hair from his face, nor did he avoid her gaze.

"I know that look."

Lusiradrol had awakened her clan. Keeping the wyverns asleep was the purpose of the Sh'lahmar. Although he wanted to tell Calli everything before they parted, now that he could, his tongue refused to cooperate. His failure in the end haunted him.

"I know many things, most of all the Sh'lahmar," he finally said. "I served them all my life."

Calli sat back, a mixture of surprise and betrayal clashing across her face.

Before she could erupt into a temper as he feared she might, he enclosed her hands in his. "I was sworn to secrecy."

"Why break your oath now?"

"The secret was those things that attacked you. The Sh'lahmar lived only to keep anyone from learning where they slept for thousands of years. Anyone who learned of it had to die. It was the only way to insure Lusiradrol would never know her clan lived."

"Lusiradrol?" She frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Their leader. We failed. I..." He took a deep breath. "I led her to them when I returned."

He dropped his eyes in shame. Visions of those who had vanished because of him floated up from his memories. Friends who had trained with him and those he had trained were gone. "She knew I could use magic and followed me."

Calli shook her head. "What is this—You knew of these beasts? You could not warn us?"

"They slept under a spell. If even a hint that they lived had reached Lusiradrol—" He let out a deep breath and quieted his voice. "This would have happened sooner."

"You knew all this time?" Accusation snapped in her voice.

He winced, unable to escape the truth. At least she knew his secret. Whether she trusted him afterwards he could not say. Based on her tone of voice, he doubted it.

The flame of anger dwindled from her eyes. "Could this be the meaning of his words?"

Hope shone through the clouds of distrust. Jayson sat up straighter, unaware until then that his posture hunched further and further under the emotional weight.

"Without his words, I'd not know what to think, Jayson." Her eyes spoke of betrayal, but her voice hinted of defeat.

He squeezed her hands, relief calming his mind. Now came the hardest part. He could have said nothing, but he wished no more secrets between them. She deserved to know.

He took a deep breath to ease the tension building inside him. "Since you know this secret, I've better news, but that depends on your view. If you never wish to speak to me, I'll understand."

She pulled one hand free to lay it upon his cheek with a faint smile. "I doubt that."

How he wished she would feel the same after he told her! Jayson grabbed her hand and held it firmly to steady his nerves and to keep her from running. His pulse throbbed in his temple and his mouth went dry. He had to say it, before his courage failed.

"I know where Istaria is. And...I can take you there." There. Now she knew.

Calli gasped and drew back, but Jayson kept her hand in his. Her eyes dropped to the fire behind him, a distant look in them, but she made no more move to pull away.

"Please, understand that, had I said anything prior, it would have led to explaining the Sh'lahmar."

He pulled her hand close, regaining her attention.

"Calli, she is the reason Lusiradrol has awakened her clan. Istaria is the one chosen by the white dragon. Lusiradrol would do anything to destroy her."

"Why? What is this 'white dragon' and why would Lusiradrol want to harm her?"

"She—Istaria—carries within her the power to unite all beings of magic and defeat Lusiradrol."

Calli scoffed. "The princess? You expect me to believe this?"

Jayson arched an eyebrow, having nothing more to add after saying all she needed to hear.

Her brow furrowed. "You speak the truth?"

He nodded and lifted her hand to his lips to kiss the back, his insides twisted into a knot. She had stayed, not run. Now would come the hardest part—allowing her to digest the information he shared. What she would think of him for it, he dared not hope, but he would not pressure her.

Calli watched him, the mixed emotions on her face smoothing into a sigh. "My head hurts, Jayson."

"Rest, my lady. We've a long journey ahead."

Not wanting to know what her reaction would be until everything sank in, Jayson stood and crossed creaky floor boards to the door. He would give her time to think.

"I'll see what provisions Llaeryn may supply."

With the door open a crack, he paused. Calli said nothing but gave a nod. He left the room, dreading what she might yet decide but with a lighter feeling to carry no more secrets.

_______________

# Damaera

In the quiet of a cloudy day, snow fell in gentle flakes.

Damaera stood beneath the imposing towers on either side of the front gates. The top of the wall rose higher than the towers of Setheadroc palace, while the empty guard towers reached beyond that. Her spirit shrank each time she came this way on her walks and she had to lift herself taller. The reddish orange stones stood out against the snowy backdrop, towering in their fortitude. Only the mountain arching around the city stood mightier.

Tahronen had assured her that a warning would alert them should anyone attempt to enter the undefended gates, if anyone could find the city.

Damaera knew not where it was located but guessed somewhere near the Northern Mountains, perhaps on the other side from the border of Cavatar. No travelers ever returned from their journey through the mountains, or so it was said. Tahronen had transported them to the front gates of Euramai, expediting their journey into a blink and keeping Damaera from seeing any landmarks that would have betrayed its location.

The city, home to tens of thousands in its glory, fell to ruin towards the end of the Siege of Elthnîel. To keep out the conniving, greedy Second Race of men, the First Race, now known as the Ancients, constructed the high wall. While it held back all mortal forces, the Darklord vowed to destroy the magic-adept First Race and sent his most horrible creations to attack the city of the Ancients. These abominations overran the city, killing every human they found.

Damaera shuddered at the story. Somewhere in the history of Euramai, The Second Race of men had defeated those forces. No one knew where the enemy had retreated. The stories from that time recounted heroic deeds against the forces of the enemy, but no great victory.

Hundreds of years later, after the tragedies, the city was abandoned. The first Lumathir made it their home soon after. No others dared to return except the small group of women holding a candle against the darkness.

Damaera turned away from the gates and followed her path back to the central gardens.

She disliked seeing the closed gates, but it reassured her sense of security. She was safe there.

The ruins of the city greeted her eyes, a light coating of snow defining the now leafless vines creeping up walls still standing and outlining rubble scattered amid stone streets. Graceful arches leapt from pillar to pillar, seamless architecture supporting over a dozen levels in the tallest buildings. Everywhere she looked, the art of a culture rich in amenities with an eye for the beauty of nature flourished.

Damaera stepped lightly around a dead fountain whose ring of stone birds would forever strive for flight and never quite leave the ground. The lonely square whispered of days of excess and jubilance. She loved walking through that part of the city, the open corridor from the gates to the fountain.

She loved Euramai, the dead city. The name betrayed the truth in her eyes. The city yet lived in the past, steeped in its own legends and culture. Most of the women living inside the city stayed near the large gardens, which supported their needs. Many of them felt that the spirits of the past haunted the streets. They dared not venture out to disturb them. Damaera saw it differently. If the ghosts of those long past did still walk the streets, they must have welcomed visitors disturbing the loneliness.

The city kept her emotions subdued by busying her mind.

"My lady."

Damaera jumped out of her skin but caught her breath at the woman who materialized next to her. "Gayle...I wish you'd not do that."

"Forgive me, sister." Gayleana paused to look toward the garden. "The High Priestess asked that I bring you with haste."

"She does nothing in haste." Besides that, Tahronen should have called her with mindspeech. It would have saved Gayleana the trouble of approaching without announcing herself, and it would have saved her from trembling.

"True. Please, hurry. She has good reason."

Damaera looked on her sister, a question on her lips, but Gayleana shook her head.

"She said nothing to me but will explain when we return."

Damaera stretched her legs to keep up with Gayleana's hurried pace.

While they wove through the streets, her mind sought answers before they came. Even with the small amount of magic she had learned to use, she could not find a purpose. It frustrated her. At least as a queen, she had possessed the authority to demand answers when she wanted them. Now, the answers were given when Tahronen decided.

More than two moon cycles had passed since she followed Tahronen to Euramai. Her training progressed at a slow pace to the point that she never expected to pass the second challenge. Through it all, her heart mourned for her previous life, before Tyrkam's invasion.

But he had not set events in motion. That had happened some twelve years ago, when her youngest child hid in the cavern below the orchard. When the spirit of the white dragon had claimed Istaria, prophecy set events in motion.

In the thousands of years since the dragon's disappeared, only legends remained. None remembered the ancient tales she had recently learned while under the guidance of the Lumathir, who preserved the stories and continued to train the magic-adept.

She would do her duty as queen to defend the land, one way or another. Damaera Isolder was still queen of Cavatar, no matter what Tyrkam thought.

With her jaw clamped, she silently prayed for the strength she needed. Istaria was safe, but the rest of Cavatar was in ruins. She prayed they found a way to defeat the evil in their lives.

Before she realized, they arrived at the outer wall of the gardens. Damaera followed Gayleana up the steps to the columns and arches of the library at the main entrance. Their rushed steps whispered through halls of dusty tomes until they emerged on the other side. The others gathered upon the wide steps leading down into the gardens.

The women gathered in a lone patch of sunlight, which set Tahronen aglow. From there they followed the Majera through the gardens to the tower on the other side. Within it lay not only Tahronen's chamber, but also their living areas.

She hurried inside behind Gayleana as a chill swept through her. Others shivered and looked around in wonder.

Let the ill wind pass, Tahronen instructed.

The whispers quieted, and they gathered in the large common room where they ate and meditated. Without any movement of commanding the magic she used, Tahronen sent the three long, low tables sliding and scraping to a corner opposite one of the two crackling fireplaces. The pillows on which they sat for cushions from the cold floor came together in a circle in the center of the room.

"Be seated."

All obeyed without question. Damaera chose a place next to her younger sister. As with many group meditations, they joined hands and closed their eyes. The connection opened from one to the next, the magic flowing freely and building with each.

When Tahronen took her place and completed the circle, power spiked. All the world opened to Damaera. In an instant, she knew what worried the high priestess.

Gasps of horror broke the silence.

DRAGONS! The unified thought rang out.

The red beasts flew in a formation more precisely than the rough V of migrating birds. From the lead beast, a dark power resonated. Tahronen opened her vision, and the image of Lusiradrol dressed head to toe in black came to them.

Learn it well. Tahronen's words echoed within their heads.

As if from the city towers, they watched the red cloud approach. The enormous wings stretched across the horizon.

Before they could see more, Tahronen drew upon the circle of power. It ran like water from Damaera's core. An image of a river of light flowing upwards filled her inner vision. It poured up and over the entire city, forming a barrier of light against the enemy.

The red dragons landed on the cliff near the barrier, and Lusiradrol lifted her hands and aimed a piercing beam pierced at the barrier.

Damaera flinched but did not falter. A sense of weakness passed through the younger women, touching her through their connection.

You must believe in yourselves, Tahronen gently reminded.

Magic opened up from them once more as the Majera guided it to shield them.

The wyvern Lusiradrol rode landed outside the city gates and tested the barrier with a probing claw towards the wall. Energy flared.

The beast jumped back from the sting. Lusiradrol tapped its head on which she stood.

On strong hind limbs, it stood as tall as it could, allowing her to look over the wall at the city beyond. A tendril of something sinister slithered through the magic, exploring it.

It followed the flow to its source.

Damaera clamped her jaw and blocked her mind against the cold, numbing darkness trying to penetrate her defenses. It lured her into a pit of despair.

"Fight it, but do not close your minds!"

Too late, the flow of magic weakened. The shadow of Lusiradrol's presence entered the city.

When she opened her mind as Tahronen commanded, Damaera saw the wyverns climbing over the wall, which withstood their weight as it had withstood millennia of nature.

Lusiradrol fixed her dark eyes on the gardens. Her wyvern headed straight for the central structure. The buildings, which had withstood the rigors of nature, man, and beast, toppled before the red tide. They swung their tails and gripped with wing talons at the structures, clearing a swath from the gate to the library at the head of the garden.

Rubble lay strewn beneath a rising cloud of dust in their wake. Damaera's heart ached at the destruction of the beautiful city and the plaza she had recently wandered.

"Stay together. We are stronger with our powers combined." Tahronen's voice carried over the room with a note of tenderness as a parent instructing a child. It washed away the negative emotions and the walls they created. Blocks fell, and like a dam broken, the energy poured forth.

Damaera inhaled at the spike of magic. Tahronen's voice soothed away some of her fear and gave her confidence, like the others. Lusiradrol would not reach them.

The dark woman and her army stopped at the library, unable to penetrate the barrier.

Once again, she probed them with her powers. This time, Damaera never flinched from the darkness passing through her. This time she let it flow past like a serpent through water. She refused to give the woman what she wanted, allowing her further intrusion into the calm of the city.

The serpent found her memories and struck.

I know where she is, a cold voice said in her mind.

An image of Istaria and the guard, Darius, appeared in Damaera's mind. Fear crept up her spine. You cannot touch her.

The mocking laughter sent a chill through her. Are you certain?

According to Tahronen, Lusiradrol could not pass beyond the gateway to Eyr Droc. The Majera could not be wrong.

I have other means. Had you not betrayed her power, all would be as it was. You did this.

Lusiradrol was right. Damaera had betrayed Istaria by denying the power she bore. She should have let her daughter use her power and learn to control it so she could face this monster. Instead, Damaera had let fear lead her. She'd been afraid of her husband or anyone learning the truth about Istaria's magic and had made Istaria keep it under tight control and promise to never use it. She'd been afraid of losing everything because of the fear of the people about magic.

"Consider none of this! She is protected." Tahronen's voice boomed like thunder.

Damaera calmed herself. No. She would not give in. She would not let Lusiradrol destroy them. She would not be the weak point.

You think I will be defeated like this? I will not allow him to return. I will destroy all of them, and you. A tone of desperate intent sharpened the thoughts.

Damaera trembled, her worries for her daughter renewed. She could not let Lusiradrol bring harm to her family. She had lost too much already.

"Damaera, she's using you to break our strength. Do not listen!"

She tried to fight, but the darkness within her pulled her into the abyss. The words of Lusiradrol and the menace of her touch tugged at her emotions.

All those years, she feared Istaria's power and denied the magic the child claimed to feel while believing in it herself. She deserved no forgiveness.

What have I done? Despair grew like a hole beneath her. She fell deeper and deeper, the light above shrinking. Images of her daughter dying overwhelmed her.

* * *

A cool wetness rested on her forehead, and the softness of her bed lay beneath her.

Damaera blinked to clear her eyes. Through the blur of the nightmares fading away, she made out the lines of Gayleana's concern.

Memories drifted back, realities confused with the shadows of the emotional attack. She recalled the circle of Light, the connection with the others, and Lusiradrol.

A cold shudder passed through her at the memory of such malevolence and emptiness.

"Welcome back. You were out a while."

"What happened?"

"She tried to break us through you." Gayleana frowned and sat back from the mattress on the floor. "Lusiradrol attacked your weakness. You passed out before she could use it against us." She paused and pursed her lips a moment before continuing in a solemn voice. "Forgive me—I never realized the depth of your pain."

Damaera searched her sister's face. She thought the pain buried so deeply no one would see. Now, they knew? "I alone bear this burden. No others should take it."

"We are weak alone. That's why Lusiradrol attacked you."

Anger simmered up at the accusation. "Never have I allowed weakness!" Damaera's head throbbed with the pressure of her emotions. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to calm herself. In a quiet voice, she asked, "Has she gone?"

"Not without leaving her mark."

Damaera opened her eyes. "What mark?"

Gayleana removed the wet cloth from Damaera's forehead and dropped it into a bucket at her side. The plunk of the damp rag into the water shattered the silence.

Damaera watched her sister in concern. Before she could repeat her question, Gayleana answered, "With her clan, she brought the mountain down over the city. Only by the power of the Lumathir were we able to save the garden."

The city...

Her heart sank at the image of what must have been. Shame seeped into her voice. "I'm sorry."

"This city is home, the only home many of us have ever known." Gayleana looked up with glazed eyes. "I know you lost much more. I knew nothing of your sorrow until today."

"Gayle..." Damaera eased herself to a sitting position, the cold stone of the wall forming a backrest. Was her sister apologizing or chastising?

It mattered not. She had been wrong to snap at her sister in defense of her pride. Although only recently materialized as more than faded childhood memories, the bond between them was stronger than between any of the others.

Gayleana laid her head on Damaera's lap and shoved the water bucket away. "I was jealous of you until today." She sniffed back quiet tears. "Now I share your grief in more ways than I wished. Only one strong of spirit could endure such tragedies. Forgive me."

Damaera stroked the silky golden hair. The action reminded her of consoling Istaria. "What is to forgive that was not truth? I spoke out of frustration, as much from denying the truth as acknowledging it." She took a deep breath and added, "You should not have had to share my pain."

Gayleana sat up and wiped her eyes. "What is not shared of us than the same blood? I'll do all I can to protect her."

"I know." Damaera exhaled her frustrations, leaving only regrets for her harsh tone. "But I can ask nothing. I alone must atone for my actions. No one can do that for me."

"You misunderstand. We all shared your pain. Istaria's purpose is the same for all. Nothing else have we than to raise our greatest ally."

Had she heard right? Because she allowed the magic to flow through her in their connection, the others also shared her sorrows? Had they seen her betrayal, how for years she kept her daughter at arm's length in fear of her powers while hiding her heritage?

Such a revelation was not her choice. She could have aided the coming of the white dragon if she had accepted her daughter's condition sooner. Instead, she hid it, afraid of what others in the magic-hating world might think. She had hindered what the Lumathir hoped to accomplish, perhaps even helped to bring about this disaster.

"What future comes is never that of motherhood here," Gayle said. "That we may share yours is as much a blessing as a curse. Shed your grief. You're no longer alone."

Perhaps in time she could forgive herself but now was not that time. She patted Gayleana's hand and smiled wanly. "Only time can heal those wounds."

"Time we have not." The soft voice ran as the melody of a stream in the woods.

Both women looked up at Tahronen's youthful face. The troubles of Damaera's mind melted away.

"Lusiradrol will return after her works are begun, to finish the damage she started." Her eyes went to Gayleana. "When you're ready, you will accompany her to Eyr Droc."

Gayleana blinked. "The Second Realm?"

Tahronen smiled at Damaera. "She'll need you when the time comes."

"She?"

"Istaria."

"I can be with her again?" Her heart lifted at the prospect.

"You're a risk here. You'll be more useful there."

While Damaera's thoughts tumbled over one another, Tahronen quietly withdrew from the room and closed the door behind her. Damaera stared after the priestess, unsure whether to rejoice at the news or resent Tahronen for waiting to tell her.

"Rest now, sister," Gayleana said and rose to her feet. "You'll soon meet one of the dragons."

_______________

# Calli

Calli gazed into the crackling fire. The warmth on her front saturated through her clothes into her soul.

The family was more than generous, but Calli could stay no longer. She could not take advantage of the hospitality, nor could she sit still when her friend was alive and well. And, while the snow had piled high outside, it no longer fell.

In the time in the house, Jayson had said very little to her of a personal nature. Instead, he spoke of the Sh'lahmar, dragons, the Majera, and magic. She wished he would say more concerning his feelings, but he detoured from the topic whenever she tried to steer him towards it.

He held something back, like he had when he left her in Arronfel. Perhaps she assumed wrong or saw a mirage of what she wished to see, but she felt there was something.

She despised Jayson for withholding information about Istaria, but she understood his reasons. If she had learned about her friend before she formed an attachment to him, she would have hated him and left him alone.

She could not hate him now, when she had nothing left. He was the only living being dearer to her than her friendship to Istaria. Everything else in her life she had ever loved had been taken away. She needed him, and forgiveness was the only path open to her.

In their few days together, her heart had reconciled the conflict. She knew she could not live without him.

But why did he avoid her? Had her words offended him? If so, why did he place himself between her and the brothers?

Calli smiled at the thought, staring through the flames licking at the air. The boys, ranging in age from twelve to seventeen, did all they could to flatter her. At meals, one or the other tried to take a seat next to her. Somehow, Jayson always managed to squeeze them out.

The scrape of the door brushed aside her thoughts.

Jayson's face peeked in, his blue eyes sparkling. "Slept well?"

"Much better than many a night since I can remember."

His smile brightened the room. "Ellead's packed the saddle full of all Llaeryn insisted."

Llaeryn. So busy and concerned. She did all she could to assist them and took a particular interest in Calli's affairs. In private, Llaeryn had described how Jayson never left her side while she recovered.

What did it mean?

His words and actions confused her. She had rolled it all around in her mind over the days they had stayed with the family. She had to know, but it refused to come out. Or was she afraid of learning a truth she wished not to know? He had hidden his secret of the Sh'lahmar. What else might he be hiding? Something worse?

They would have time to talk on their way to Istaria, but whether he would talk about it or not was the question.

"What of you?" Calli swallowed but waited for him to answer in some manner.

Jayson slid further inside the door, his brow furrowed. For a few seconds he was silent, his eyes down, probably wondering what the question meant.

When he looked up, those blue eyes sparkled with mischief, lighting up the smile she cherished. "Always ready for another adventure. Perhaps next time, you'll leave the dragon-fighting to me?"

Calli sighed and shook her head. She should have known. The whimsical sense of humor stayed with him. May you always find the good, Jayson.

He stepped to her and offered his hand. Calli set her hand on his, cherishing the steady contact and the confidence in his fingers around hers. He led her from the room to where the family held a new winter riding cloak and coat for her with the other winter gear. Jayson had shown her the burned cloak. Dragon fire was far hotter than she expected. Duke's hindquarters had been gruesome proof. She shuddered to consider what would have been of her flesh without the thick cloak between her and the fire.

After long good-byes and many thanks to the family, Calli and Jayson joined Ellead in the bright sun of the day. The bitter cold of the last few days was gone, replaced by a hint of spring warmth.

They trudged a new path through the shimmering snow, sometimes wading through knee deep drifts. Calli glanced aside at Jayson at times, wishing they were alone so they could talk. A couple times he returned her looks, and then glanced back at Ellead as if thinking the same.

Ellead led the chestnut horse laden with their supplies only a few steps behind, granting them no privacy. Questions plagued her, but she wished not to share them with the boy.

Jayson had told her about the magic of the sword but said nothing about how she had used it, or how he had used it. What had she done?

Calli reached down to touch the length of the sword strapped to her waist beneath the cloak. Had Phelan known of its power, or had that been of the smithy's doing? Who made it? Not until the old Lôringai war prayer—a meditation, or spell, to help focus the power as Jayson explained—had she cared. The words had no power, but the intentions of the one speaking them did. She had borne that power, because she believed in the meaning of the prayer. She believed in her father.

If not for the magic of the valley of Arronfel, she would not believe what happened to the sword.

And what of her father's words? Was the dream a vision or a true visit to the spirit realm?

What did her father know of all this? She had to find out. After visiting Istaria, perhaps she would make the journey to her father's homeland and learn more.

"Me thinks you lost again."

Calli blinked back to reality at the teasing remark.

"I was wrong." Jayson looked over his shoulder to Ellead. "She's still with us."

She restrained her first instinct to smack him. Instead, she turned to him with a scowl but could not hold it against the laughter struggling to escape. With his simple amusements, he lifted the fog of worries pressing her down. She could only shake her head at his antics. "This will be a long road with that tongue alive."

"Would you rather it died?"

"Sometimes. Maybe. Have I other options?"

Jayson chuckled and filled the silence with amusing stories of his earlier years with the Sh'lahmar. Despite the mischief he described and the otherwise good humor, a cloud hung over his mood. He had told her what happened.

Calli forgot her concerns for a while as her thoughts shifted to what Jayson told her of Lusiradrol and the loss she had inflicted upon him. It troubled him more than he let on in the presence of others, but he had let her see. He avoided that in his stories, sticking to hard-learned lessons under his teacher, Master Haiberuk, and the angst he caused his friends.

The stories made her shake her head in disdain. From what she had come to know of him, the antics he described in his stories gave her no surprise. However, she found his personality oddly light for one expected to kill.

But Jayson never killed if he could waylay his opponents with other means. For that matter, he had gone out of his way many times to avoid killing.

One more reason she enjoyed his partnership.

Phelan would not have gone so far as Jayson. In fact, the prince had once talked of killing several raiders when ambushed along the road.

Calli placed her palm over the seal hanging on the chain around her neck. Phelan. Her heart had longed for him for many years, yet she left when he finally gave her his attention. The distance from him had changed her.

She looked aside again as Jayson set his hand against a tree to stay balanced through a deep drift of snow. Birds sang high above in fewer numbers than the chorus that had accompanied them through the summer.

Jayson never tried to hold her back from anything. He supported her decisions, for good or ill, and offered his advice. He comforted her in bad times and amused her through all occasions.

From the first moment, she had found his smile enchanting. She wanted to be closer. Those rare occasions he held her, including when she awoke from her recovery, she wished it would last forever. He made her feel complete.

With Duke gone—

Calli dropped her eyes, her heart heavy. She pictured the gelding snorting at a frog and bucking at the end of his lead after a swim in a stream. Her vision blurred at the memory from the summer. He had stood by her, always willing to take on whatever enemy attacked with an uncanny sense of what was needed of him.

Phelan's gifts had served her well. For that she would always be grateful, but she could not deny her heart.

She stumbled over a branch hidden beneath the snow, and strong arms caught her. Calli sniffed but restrained the tears threatening to flow. "I tripped."

Jayson eyed her with suspicion but said nothing. He walked close to her from that point, his shoulder occasionally rubbing hers, granting solace through his presence.

They trudged through the snow in the chill air until fatigue settled in. A short time before nightfall, they found a fallen trunk as wide as a horse's girth. One end lay over a large boulder to form a shelter blocking the wind. Snow only dusted the ground beneath while a ridge of white closed off most of the open side. It made a suitable shelter for the night with a steady fire to keep them warm.

After her turn keeping watch over the horse pawing for grass blades in the snow while she kept the fire stoked, Calli woke Jayson. When she slept, her dreams returned to the wyvern and its bloody jaws. At one point, she screamed out, but the fear abated with a calming touch. Familiar words whispered through her mind, chasing the nightmare away. What dreams came after placed her in the old orchard playing games with Istaria in the palace.

Soon she would see her friend again.

_______________

# Istaria

Istaria smiled at the antics of the young green dragon. About the size of a grown horse with wings, it chased the small cloud of drakin. The dragon was fast, but the drakin could dart like insects away from their larger cousin's lumbering mass.

From the chair next to the tall window in the hidden study, she watched. A book lay open in her lap, or what remained of her lap. The bulge at her middle continued to grow and expand over most of her front. Gaispar had supplied her with several gowns that hung loose over her expanding middle. Where she found them, Istaria could only wonder.

After the dragons passed, she returned her eyes to the tome she read. The Unnamed One recorded the history of the world, including his wisdom and knowledge of magic. A wise decision that aided her learning, once she perfected using magic to translate the text; although she needed it less and less as she grew accustomed to the language of the Majera.

The organic style of the text reminded her of the crystal palace in which she sat. Curves like vines with leaves marked the language as unique to anything she had ever seen. She thought it beautiful to the eye, almost as if it were meant as a design rather than words. It made Ayrulean look blockish and awkward.

The magic translated word for word, which required some mental reorganizing for her to understand. With practice, the translation came more easily.

She wished she could share the secrets of the tomes with Darius, but Sethirngal warned that, while her love knew much of the history, not all was meant to be shared. Some knowledge was denied to the Sh'lahmar and the Lumathir, and other knowledge to the dragons. It was a way to keep it from Lusiradrol.

Istaria wondered why, if Darius stayed there, that she could not tell him. He was former Sh'lahmar and they were protected in the Second Realm.

Sethirngal had made her pledge to say nothing and she kept that promise, but she longed to share the wonderful tales she studied. They seemed harmless.

She spent her recent days in the secret chamber reading. The task had started as tedious, but with the changing times, the stories of great warriors and the creatures of the world captured her imagination. Through those stories, she traveled into past events.

Istaria currently followed the flowing script on the journey of Trafen, the hero who sought out the "celestial maiden". The love story was the first she had found after five thick tomes about the creation of the world, the dragons, and the two races of men and their use by the Majera to counter the demons of the Darklord.

After creating dragons, the Majera created humans. Istaria found the first humans mundane in their perfection. When their numbers dwindled, the Majera decided to create another race of humans, the Second Race, intended to be more perfect than the First Race.

When the Darklord discovered their intentions, he introduced corruption into the Second Race, and the stories turned. Wars erupted among the humans, until all knew only conflict. From those stories, however, grew the legends she had learned as a girl, the stories told to children thousands of years later. Time had erased most of the details. Not until reading them as recorded by the hands of the Unnamed One had she realized the full extent of those stories.

Trafen's tale was the first love story she read, titled Afmajî, or "The Magi". She could not set aside the book until she followed it to the end, particularly since she had read of no mage to that point.

On his way home from a horrible battle in which the Darklord's forces ravaged his army, Trafen spied the maiden of Light by a pool in the forest. His heart melted when she turned her radiant smile to him, her blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. Before he could utter a word, the forces of the Darklord sent to hunt him frightened the woman away. She vanished in a flash of light. Trafen was knocked unconscious to wake up in a dank, lonely prison.

My lady.

Istaria gasped and her heart slammed against her chest. The child inside her kicked out. Reaching out with the magic, she found the presence calling her. The calm she met eased her startled mind. Through their intimacy, their connection allowed them to communicate long distances with each other.

She rubbed her belly to reassure her child as much as herself and replied, I am here.

I've something for you.

She smiled, picturing Darius with a new carving. Since her news, he had made numerous wooden toys from animals to puzzles.

Jaren has returned.

That changed matters.

Split between the story and any news Jaren brought back from the First Realm, she hesitated. After a few seconds of indecision, Istaria marked her place in the book and set it aside.

The story could wait. News from her home could not.

Since she could not teleport in or out of the secret chamber, she walked through the illusionary wall. Istaria exited through a brief shimmer to the semicircular anteroom beyond with its tall, vaulted ceiling. The cloudy blue crystal chimed softly with each step she took, singing a melody as she crossed the floor to the double doors with their accents of gold vines and leaves.

Since reading the tomes, she understood the reasons for the style of the floating castle. Plants were the base of support of life. Therefore, the Ancients incorporated them into their designs out of gratitude for the sustenance. The Unnamed One had created the crystal castle based on the same principles.

She transported herself with her growing powers to the house at the edge of the forest, where Darius stood at the door waiting for her. Jaren rested on his shoulder, his long tail wrapped around Darius' upper arm.

"I knew you'd come." His warm smile greeted her.

She met him with a quick kiss.

"How go the studies?"

Much better. The books are not all boring, she said.

"More than you said a few days ago."

What have you news from home? How odd. She phrased the question as if she spoke it in the old language of the tomes.

Darius said nothing about it but turned to Jaren.

Me? The high-pitched voice resounded in her mind.

Darius's nod was encouragement enough, but it took so little to make the drakin talk. Jaren spread his claw-tipped wings in a gesture of agitation. All is not well in your realm, Lady. The Red Clan has turned much to ash, but they have spread themselves thin over the world, not just the land outside the gate; and their appetite is large, but they must rest a while after such. You'll not see me or my kind eating a horse whole, but see— He opened his jaws no bigger than a hawk's beak to expose tiny white teeth with which he ate insects and berries. I found the slaughter despicable, although the drakes here cull their herds in such fashion, but at least—

"Jaren."

The drakin ducked his head in shame from Darius's scolding tone. Forgive me. I sometimes forget and enjoy telling stories so that I know not what you wish me to not say. He paused before continuing. Oh, yes. The elder drakes have been able to spare a few lives by interrupting the feeding of the Red Clan. Lusiradrol called them away, so that few are in the land outside the gateway.

Jêrafînas thinks they headed over the mountains to the Lumathir, but I know not the land, so I could not confirm this, although I would enjoy the snow, especially as it falls when no wind blows hard, and the cold I can leave alone.

"Jaren."

He chirped his objection, to which Darius gave him a stern look.

That is all. The master bade me return to you.

"You may go now," Darius said.

The drakin squawked and spread his wings.

Thank you, Jaren, Istaria offered.

I am pleased to serve, Lady. He flapped into the air.

Istaria watched him disappear into the trees and wrapped her arms around her middle. I wish I could do something. When Darius embraced her, she laid her head against his chest.

"You are doing something. You have the most important job. Remember, the future depends on you."

She sighed and buried her face in the warmth of his chest. The musky odor of his body distracted her for a moment but no more. Her job was simple but so complex, and it restricted her from using the knowledge she learned. I understand that. But I wish I could join the dragons. I wish I could help them in the fight against the Red Clan. I wish...

I wish Calli or even Gaispar could be here now.

Where was Calli? The last news she had heard of her best friend was that the redhead had left the palace to search for her. From what gossip Gaispar gathered, Calli had made a nuisance of herself for Tyrkam. Istaria found some comfort in that. But the news was old and none of the messengers had brought anything new for several moon cycles.

She needed the company of friends, especially with the child in her now kicking with life—kicking hard at that. With Gaispar only stopping for a few days at a time, they barely shared any time together. Besides, Gaispar usually steered any conversation away from the pregnancy.

"Concentrate on learning what you can of magic and the old ways."

What else could she do? Istaria felt helpless, but at least the books distracted her from it. She could enjoy the history of the mages and the story of Trafen and his maiden, but her heart weighed heavily with worry for those she cared about in that time. I wish I could do more.

_______________

# Marjan

The sun sliced over the snow-capped peaks. Marjan shaded his eyes and gazed out from the third level of the fortress. On the valley floor, his men completed their chores. Horses grazed at the opposite end of the long valley, separating themselves from the humans who used half of the fertile land for crops. The army would grow strong to reclaim Cavatar. Tyrkam's oppression would not last long.

Many years had he served Lord Isolder, and many more he swore to his heir, wherever he was.

Until the day came that the rightful heir of Cavatar stepped forth to claim the throne, he would continue to rebuild the army loyal to Cavatar. When the day came for Phelan Isolder to take his father's place, he would have an army ready to serve him.

This valley was the key to their efforts. What luck that the Lady Calli had found it and shared it with him.

He owed her much.

He wished she had stayed in the sanctuary of the valley. More than a moon cycle had passed since she and the others left. Although he expected them gone longer, he had hoped they would have returned already, or sent someone with news. Where were they?

Marjan sighed heavily, aware of footfalls behind him. By the lightness of the steps ringing off the walls as much as by the routine established, he knew who interrupted his thoughts.

"Sir."

Marjan shifted his weight and turned. The crimson cape of his leadership position slipped over his broad shoulders with the motion.

His attendant stood two strides away. The short man wore the robes of one meant to watch battle from afar. The green and brown robe fit his small frame, belted at the waist beneath his cloak with its fancy black and red embroidery.

Quentin stood with his long fingers clasping a scroll of parchment.

"Anything?"

Quentin shook his head of neatly trimmed brown hair. "No word, General. But, that means nothing. You said yourself that she takes caution."

Marjan nodded. Indeed, the lass knew to be careful. From the stories her friends told, she knew the risks.

No doubt Donaghy and Morain had taught her something about that.

Arrogant bastards. What had happened to the two? Long ago he had recommended the top warriors to train the king's soldiers after Kaillen was killed. That had landed them the unlikely position of training the lass, but if she was Kaillen's daughter, he could see why. He had seen first-hand the result of their efforts in her style. Clever as Donaghy but calculating as Morain, she had proven herself many times against challengers from within his ranks.

"Our riders return with no word of the red beasts either." Quentin took a breath and added, "Nor does Tyrkam proceed into the mountains. The season of fighting has passed until sowing."

The last part was obvious, but Quentin tried to pick up his mood with something positive. It worked.

"Any word from Gheorwen or Hammel?" They had sent out scouts to contact the leaders of two of the king's legions. Those who had returned brought only pieces of information and not enough to frame any sort of picture.

From what Marjan could piece together, Hammel's forces guarding the palace were decimated. Those captured by Tyrkam's army were executed, while the general and some of his cavalry had escaped as the battle wound down. Reports came back of Tyrkam's forces outnumbering Hammel's two-to-one, since part of his legion was elsewhere. Given the strategies and strengths of Hammel's forces, that would not have mattered under most circumstances. However, Lord Cathmor had turned traitor against his king and his forces inside the palace had let Tyrkam's in.

Gheorwen and half his legion stayed in the harbor city of Candro, unable to provide support in time. The only news to come out were reports of the port city under siege but holding its own with help from the traders who berthed their ships there. Where the rest of Gheorwen's legion was, Marjan could only guess, but he knew enough to suspect the general split them under the leadership of the captains with regiments not in Candro. Far from the majority of the fighting inland, Gheorwen had no reason to pull his full forces together in the southeastern, coastal province.

The only other units Marjan knew of were under the command of Lord Almont, who ruled the semi-independent province in the eastern area from the Northern Mountains south along the shore. There lied the richest farmland in all of Cavatar. The noble had his hands full planning to defend against Tyrkam, if he had not already fallen.

These thoughts distracted Marjan from hearing the answer to his question.

Quentin cleared his throat.

General Marjan blinked.

"Pardon me for saying, sir, but I am not the only one to notice your...worry of late."

"It shows?"

One side of the attendant's lips curved up. "I doubt we'll lose this war in the end. Whether it takes a year or a hundred, Cavatar will be restored to its glory."

Marjan allowed a slight smile, seeing again the strength and loyalty in Quentin that led him to trust the scholar. He long ago lost track of the number of times the little man proved himself as strong in mind as any warrior was in body.

"What of Gheorwen and Hammel?"

"Nothing yet."

The news disturbed Marjan. He hoped to unite with the others to build up at least one legion to full strength. It would take his mind off the lack of news from Calli's group.

"Until such news comes, our captains wish to know your plans for the new season."

His plans. Since settling in the valley, he had changed his plans. Conditions here had improved their prospects with fresh crops, fattened herds, and new horses. Their resources would grow to support more soldiers.

The men had also changed. Their spirits had lifted with the easier lifestyle the valley provided. The change had come as a gentle wave over a couple moon cycles. The steady warmth and abundant resources shed light on the prospects of a better day.

But they've a duty to the people. They had to stay in fighting form if they planned to continue the war when spring came to the lowlands. That required new strategies and information.

The information came at a steady rate as scouts came and went. He hoped the dragons had not found the others yet to return, but he accepted the dismal possibility.

"Tell them—" Marjan paused. The captains would want some idea to inspire the men.

"Tell them to continue gathering information and building our supplies. Until we can support a marching army and know our enemy, we've no business planning battles."

Quentin scribbled his notes and nodded. Not only was the man precise and organized at record keeping, but he possessed a good mind for logistics. He spoke his mind if he felt any decision detrimental, but he made no objections to this.

Every part of the royal army should be as lucky.

The robed figure rushed off and vanished around a corner.

Alone once more to his thoughts, Marjan stared out the window. What had happened to the Lady Calli and her two friends? In particular, the old farmer and the remaining son deserved to know of the boy who accompanied her. In his own interests, he wished them all a safe return.

_______________

# Calli

Calli woke with a start.

"Sssh!" Jayson hunched over her.

She rubbed her eyes. What did he want?

He sat next to her with his back to the wall. Time for her watch already? She wanted more sleep.

She glanced at Ellead next to the hearth, where the logs in the crackled amid the low flames, but the boy made no sound nor movement.

The last sixteen days since leaving the home where she recovered had stolen much of their energy from battling the weather. More often than not, as the days grew colder rather than warmer, they spent their time around an open fire or imposing on some family. The work of trudging through snow drifts or keeping warm exhausted them, and it wore on the horses they traded regularly.

This time, they had found an abandoned one-room cabin. Barely big enough for one person, it fit the three of them in close confinement. Soon after lighting the fire, Calli understood the benefit of such a small home—fast heating.

A yawn escaped her. Jayson still sat up rather than laying down to sleep, his eyes on her as if he wanted to say something.

Keeping her voice to a soft whisper, she asked, "What is it?"

He pursed his lips. Can you hear me?

Calli frowned. "Yes, why..." He had spoken without moving his lips.

A smile curved up his face. I'd like to ask you something... without Ellead listening. Fenaliel in nâ marnethias?

The translation formed from the dust of memories disturbed by Jayson's question. His words varied slightly in accent, but she knew what he asked.

"Yes," she replied in a whisper. She understood him, but how did he know Lôringai?

Before she could ask, his voice projected in her head again. As I thought you might. You told me once your father was from Loringale.

Calli nodded, pulling her blankets over her knees and shoulders. A cool breeze leaked through a crack in the boards somewhere and the slightest wind set the cabin creaking.

"How do you—"

At the finger to his lips, she ceased.

I wish not to share this with anyone but you. I know the Ancient tongue of Gairdran. Lôringai is a dialect, although I knew not whether your father taught you.

A crooked smile curved up one side of his mouth. Calli recognized that look. It sent caution rushing through her veins. His mind worked on something.

I can see your thoughts. Words are not always necessary.

Her jaw dropped. "What!"

His eyes jerked to Ellead, but the boy made no move. Jayson turned back to her with a sigh. You wish to wake him?

Calli shook her head. No. He'd wonder what madness has taken me.

And me, Jayson said.

She fixed him with a glare. Her thoughts were supposed to be private.

Sorry. That's the problem with one-way mindspeech. I cannot filter your thoughts to know your reply or not. Sometimes it's necessary to enter your mind.

How many times have you been in my mind? Had he touched her feelings?

A couple, maybe, but I prefer not. More effort is required and it's dangerous. One can lose themselves in another's thoughts and never find their way out, much as a ship tossing on stormy seas inside a labyrinth. Projecting thoughts is more precise and easier.

Can you teach me? Then she could send her thoughts instead of him invading her mind.

For a moment, he pursed his lips, his eyes on the fire. Perhaps. It may be possible. You were able to draw upon the magic of the sword.

He nodded with greater certainty. You may have enough of the Ancient blood to use simple magic.

What? Ancient blood? Now he lost her.

Jayson's smile waylaid her confusion. Your ancestors who settled on Loringale were the men and women who escaped the great massacres at the hands of Lusiradrol's allies and the Second Race. It's a pure line of descendants of the First Race of men to inhabit the world. Those early ancestors of yours are known now as the Ancients. They had the ability to use magic unbound.

Calli shivered at Lusiradrol's mention. She hoped she never saw the woman again. After what Jayson had told her of the woman's past as a black dragon, she realized how fortunate she was to be left unscathed. She had sensed something unusual about the woman the first time she appeared but would not have suspected that.

A warm arm settled across her shoulders, distracting her from her worries. Calli smiled and laid her head against Jayson. An instant later, she remembered he scanned her thoughts to keep up the connection for his mindspeech ability. Her cheeks warmed, and she pushed away. That's enough for now.

He shrugged but the creases in his forehead said otherwise. She hoped he missed her anxiety about being close or at least broke the connection before seeing her affections for him. Some things she wished to keep private until she was ready.

In a turn of mood, he took her hand to his lips and kissed the back.

"As you wish," he whispered and set her hand down. His blue eyes sparkled for a moment when he met her gaze. It vanished when he laid down and covered himself.

He gave away no clear trace of his feelings.

Damn you, Jayson! Say it. Tell me what you feel. He should have been in her head then.

Her heart twisted into knots wondering what course to take. The desire to know twisted further, so that she spent her entire watch trying to untangle the knot with no success.

_______________

# Shadow and Jayson

A giant shadow passed over him, hushing the winter songbirds. Shadow glanced up with wolf eyes at a pair of wyverns heading north high above. North lay the gateway to the second Realm, but they could not pass through. Only one enemy of the Red Clan might gain their attention—the Lumathir. They were supposed to live somewhere around the Northern Mountains, the direction the wyverns flew. Only Haiberuk knew the exact location outside of the Lumathir, but he only shared information like that with his Council.

At the thought of the immortal, the sore spot reopened. Now known only as Shadow, he had dropped his old identity long ago so that only the fetid remains of revenge lingered.

A whisper of power touched his core. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, as if someone faltered in hiding their magic.

He paused in his step, opening himself for the faint emanation.

Unlike other shapeshifters, he was born with mage abilities and trained to use them.

However, the presence he detected, while stirring a sense of familiarity, hid his or her identity as no one he knew, except for one small group.

The fire of hatred flared anew in recognition of the level of the other Sh'lahmar. Sonthenîel talri, one of the Council. He cursed the title. Second to Haiberuk on Shadow's list of vendettas.

Why was this one out in such a remote area?

Shadow sniffed the air with a wolf's keen senses for a trace of human scent. The wind swirled amid the trees, mixing the scents of more than one human. He followed upwind to find the source.

Over a rise in the land, he saw them—two men, a woman, and a horse burdened with supplies. Although they covered their heads with hoods to keep out the cold, they could not hide that which was not seen with eyes.

When he tried to probe the trio for magic, the man who walked beside the woman looked around.

In his human form, Shadow would have smiled. That man was the one. Now he knew and slinked back under a snow-covered brush. He could not see clearly enough to know who the man was, but with a closer look, he would recognize the face. That he was sure.

Shadow caught a light scan sent out by the mage and let it pass. What the wandering Sh'lahmar thought of his presence, he would allow, what little good it might do them.

Shadow noted the direction they traveled—the same as he. Coincidence? Perhaps not. A Sh'lahmar in the group made anything possible.

In either case, he would not follow. His purpose was to reach Eyr Droc and retrieve the princess Istaria to satisfy Tyrkam. He could beat such a group by days.

Shadow ducked behind the hill and circled wide around the trio. If they traveled the same path, he would be to the Second Realm and gone before they entered the mountains.

* * *

"What is it?"

Jayson shook his head. "I thought...I saw something. A shadow only."

Calli shivered from the thought and the grim look on his face. Even in the midst of battle, he retained his good humor. If he took such a stance from a shadow, she worried. Something bothered him.

["What is it?"] The words came easier now that she used the language of her father again. She refrained from speaking the language since his murder four years ago, but she never forgot it. Having someone with whom she could speak the language again helped her recall it.

Jayson shook his head. ["I know not."] I felt another...following us, watching. But I saw nothing.

Calli glanced back at Ellead, but he walked a few steps behind with his eyes on the snow. No need to worry him. She hoped he took no offense of them speaking in a different language. It gave her practice while allowing them to speak privately, without Jayson prying into her mind.

["Another?"]

Jayson turned to her, a serious look on his face that answered her question as easily as any words. He nodded confirmation.

Calli tensed, her hand beneath her cloak going to her sword and her eyes surveying their surroundings.

Jayson peered back over his shoulder. "Eyes open, Ellead."

Calli glanced back. The young man perked up, his posture straightening.

"Trouble?"

"Maybe."

Calli followed Jayson's eyes to the right. A shape briefly appeared on the low rise in the distance. To the best of her sight, she made out a gray wolf running through the snow, but as quickly as it appeared, it vanished again. Any other time she would have seen it as a noble creature.

Not now. After Jayson's warning and all that had happened, nothing was innocent.

"I've a bad feeling," Jayson muttered. I feel a twisting of magic. That is no ordinary wolf.

"As I thought."

They walked with greater caution, her hand clutching her sword pommel, ready to draw it if the wolf attacked. The next time they saw it, the dark shape was far ahead and disappearing into the landscape.

"Wolves rarely travel alone." Ellead hurried to catch up to them, pulling the horse to a trot behind him. "Where's the rest o' the pack?"

"We're not the target of this one." Jayson stared ahead, a distracted look in his eyes. "It has another purpose." He stopped and blinked away whatever held his thoughts.

When his eyes fixed on Ellead, a new idea brightened them. "I think it best that you return to Marjan."

Ellead frowned, looking from him to Calli. "Are we not going that way?"

Jayson smiled his reassurance and patted the boy's shoulder. "You are. Calli and I are needed elsewhere."

"What of the wolf?"

"He'll not bother you."

Jayson was right. They were overdue to report back with news of the red wyverns. But, if she understood his true intentions, he wished to explain to her about the wolf, and probably more that Ellead need not hear. She hoped for more.

"You'll be fine. At the next village, we'll find someone to escort you to Arronfel."

The stiffness in the boy's shoulders softened away with Jayson's reassurance. She would not wish to travel alone either, particularly after their experiences with the Red Clan.

Ellead gave her a forced smile and looked to Jayson. "I'll do as you say, but it's not as I wish."

_______________

# Shadow and Gaispar

Shadow left them far behind, but a touch of power lingered. It came from another magic user, someone whose presence caused only a small disturbance. Only after his awareness of the Sh'lahmar alerted him did he notice the weaker change. The faint touch had been with him for a couple days now that he thought about it.

Someone followed him.

He growled and stopped on a bank of snow overlooking the white hills that had been summer fields. Curse you, old man! He should have known the mage employed by Tyrkam had ways of tracking him. Who was it?

Their magic was weak. Who could track him with such feeble powers and go undetected for so long?

What did it matter? He would soon dispose of them.

Shadow continued, traveling through the day as a wolf while his thoughts focused on how to trap the person following him. His senses brought no clue of the identity of the person. But, when he followed the faint disturbance of magic, the flow interrupted high above. It could not be a dragon. Their powers were too great to miss. Another shapeshifter?

No wonder he missed them! As a bird, they could stay well away and leave no scent on the wind. He resisted the temptation to look for them with his eyes, wishing not to give away his awareness.

Instead, he found a dry shelter beneath two stones leaning together. The snow covered half the entrance, leaving him to crouch into the makeshift den. Inside, he curled up to rest. The other shapeshifter would have to rest too, and flying took as much energy as running, if not more. He could wait. When they settled down for the night thinking they were safe, he would make his move.

* * *

A cold wind blew across the snow, swirling up loose surface flakes and depositing them into any crevices and crags, including tracks. A crescent moon hanging in the sky cast a faint light reflected off the snow. Dusk settled over the land.

Shadow peered into the encroaching night. He stretched out with the magic to find his pursuer. The ripples caused by their presence came from somewhere nearby. Another presence, that of an ordinary mortal moved over the land somewhere nearby also.

The howl of a wolf rang out from the distance. He lifted his head, pulling his nose out from behind his gray tail. The faint scent of a man carried on the wind with the scent of other wolves.

Was the man hunting the wolves? Perhaps a new form would be needed, something frightening but not uncommon. With barely a thought, he transformed.

As a mountain cat, he crept out of his den. White as the snow but for the black end of a long tail and a face accented with black, he bounded across the drifts with more ease than he had as a wolf. He followed the effect on the magic to the other shapeshifter. With any luck, he would catch them unawares. They could not be allowed to report to the mage.

Over the summit of a rock-strewn hill, he saw them.

Shadow crouched behind a large boulder and watched the pack. Six wolves of varying shades from white to black took turns with a white newcomer.

The newcomer hunched down, partially exposing its underside in submission. The leader of the pack, one of the grays, stood over it, posed to attack while deciding. One wrong move and the newcomer would be mauled.

The flow of colors formed a distinct pattern around the newcomer. That was his shapeshifter, and, like him, they used camouflage. More than an amateur then. But how good were they?

With all luck, the wolves would do his job for him. He waited and watched to see if they would attack.

The leader snarled, baring his fangs on the newcomer. The white wolf jumped away in time to avoid those teeth in their neck. The leader came up with a mouthful of snow but stayed his ground while the white wolf again cowed in submission.

The pack should not have been that generous. The leader snapped at the newcomer but no more. The white wolf licked at the leader, who permitted it. At that cue, the others moved in and exchanged greetings. No further fights ensued.

Lucky. Or could it be something gave them an advantage, other than knowing something about pack dynamics?

A vague memory resurfaced from his past. He remembered a woman many years ago in the yard of the Sh'lahmar. Haiberuk had greeted her and taken her inside. Later she left, throwing up her cloak into the wings of a hawk.

Her! Who better than the same fair-haired woman in service to the ones he hated? A female might be more welcome in such a group as these wolves.

A low rumble vibrated from his throat. He would take pleasure in her death.

The wind swirled snow around him, blinding him for an instant. It carried no scent, moving in a parallel course between him and the pack.

A yelp came from the pack.

A second later the snow settled. The black wolf staggered, the shaft of an arrow sticking out of its side. The pack circled in curiosity around their member, glancing around with their tails tucked. They stopped and stared in the same direction downwind, toward the scattered, leafless trees.

The hunter. Bundled in fur and leather, he stepped out into the wan moonlight. Perhaps he would finish the task. Too much to hope for.

A second arrow found its mark in a gray wolf, and the pack ran off a short distance from their whimpering members and stopped to look back.

Shadow counted them. Besides the two felled, four stood around. He had counted seven before the hunter interfered. Six out of seven now.

She was gone.

Damn her. Where was she?

There. The white wolf bounded over the snow and leapt over drifts. With an enraged snarl, he leapt after her.

The new form shortened the distance with little effort, but he was hard pressed to hold his pace. He had exchanged endurance for agility.

She glanced back.

Shadow pushed his body to the limits and closed the gap between them.

She jumped and slid down against the slippery side of a hill.

In full stride, he sprang into the air with claws out. In the second it took to come down, the wolf shrank into the snow, vanishing it seemed.

He landed at the spot where she should have been.

Nothing. Where—

There. She ran along the base of the hill to where the slope eased. Interesting. She had moved swifter than he anticipated.

Breathing hard with the effort but thrilled by the chase, Shadow sprinted after her.

He pounced on the white wolf and caught her, reveling in the line of blood in her white coat. Determined to kill her before she could report of his presence, he lunged for her throat. The wolf jerked her head away at the last instant.

The wench! Who are you?

She growled in response and bit at his legs.

Darkness take her. He snapped at her back, but she pulled away, leaving him a tuft of hair. A swipe with large, powerful claws caught her square against the jaw.

She yelped in pain and hobbled over, fresh lines of blood staining her winter coat. Still, she fought on and rose on trembling legs and shook her head.

Now he had her. Shadow sank his teeth into her shoulder. She struggled, until he clamped his jaw tighter. Bones crunched with the threat of breaking within his jaws, and she collapsed. I can take you now, if you choose.

You cannot kill me, a strong voice replied.

Why do you follow?

She growled her response, breathing hard.

He clamped down harder. She shifted, and his awkward hold lost contact with all but skin and hair. She struggled away, leaving him with a small patch of hide.

Enraged, he spit out the hairy piece and struck her hard against the ribs with his claw. She turned with teeth ready but lost her balance against his strength and fell aside. He set one large claw to her throat and caught her left foreleg in his jaws, then bit down.

This time the crunch of bones and limpness of the limb was unmistakable with her yelp.

Who sent you?

Who are you? Her lips curled back in a snarl, but as quickly fell with a whimper.

Tail lashing, he held to her foreleg. Tell me, before I rip off your arm.

Makleor. He sent me.

Why?

Because you work for Tyrkam.

Who are you?

She fell limp. Clever, but he was smarter than that. While an animal would have continued struggling to escape, she was human by nature with the cunning that brought. He tightened his jaws on the leg, unimpressed by her feint.

She let out a shrill yelp. Gaispar. I carry messages between the realms.

You are the messenger?

He had heard her name, or overheard. Gaispar carried messages from the dragons of the Second Realm to the old mage, Sh'lahmar, Lumathir, and others of no name. She had been the one he saw all those years ago. If she escaped, she would warn the princess. He had to stop her.

Gaispar growled, her uninjured legs scratching at his face in a vain attempt to free her broken leg. A deep rumble of annoyance rose from within his throat. For a moment, he considered how to end it quickly, so he could continue on his way. Only for a moment. Taking longer would be more fun.

The wind whipped loose snow around them and settled down again.

When he let go of her leg to take her neck, she tried to pull away. His large claw pressed her head into the snow, but she brought her hind legs to his claw to scratch it away.

Shadow pinned her broken leg beneath his other claw and snarled. The pleasure of the kill burned in his veins.

Pain seized his shoulder before he could make his final lunge. He roared and fell back. Each movement wrought greater pain. An arrow shaft projected from the front of his bloody shoulder. Damn her! She'd distracted him from the hunter.

The hunter stood in the distance, too far to reach and too dangerous with another arrow nocked and ready.

He'd forgotten that the gusting wind blew the man's scent away.

Gaispar lay on the blood-stained snow, her breathing labored and her eyes glazed. If she was not on the verge, she would soon die, if not of the wounds, then at the hands of the hunter. Unfortunate. He wished to complete the task himself to insure her death, but at least she could no longer interfere in his work.

The hunter approached with caution.

Clenching his teeth from the pain, Shadow limped away on three legs. He would have to find shelter where he could take time to mend his wound.

* * *

With the weight of the large cat lifted, Gaispar breathed deeply again. Through blurred vision she saw the stranger disappear. Her strength washed away, stolen by the pain of her wounds. They would heal in a few days, but at the moment, her mind clouded with the pain and she was weak from the lack of food while following the stranger. She could guess where he headed.

But she could do nothing about it. She lay vulnerable and dared not change back. The cold and her transformation would use more energy than she could spare.

The crunch of snow stopped nearby. The hunter pulled back his arrow. Piercing eyes fixed on her from beneath a wool-lined hood.

Please. She whimpered and laid still.

He hesitated and blinked.

Stay your weapon.

"What?" He released the tension of the bowstring and glanced around. "Who's there?"

She had one chance to reach him, but she knew not whether he could be trusted. Pain ached through her foreleg and stung her body where the cat had mauled her. I am not the enemy.

The arrow fell from his grasp, and he took a step back. "How can this be?"

I wish you no harm. Please, help me. The effort of reaching him took the last of her strength.

_______________

# Calli

Calli wiped the melting snow from her eyes to be sure she saw what she thought she saw, rather than a daydream. Warm lights glowed from windows, chasing away the cold of dusk. She shivered from a breeze down her neck and adjusted her scarf.

Finally. A village. Not much, but they would find food and rest, and the camaraderie of others.

No village was more than a few days travel from another along the roads, but traveling off the known roads took more time, and the snow and wind made it miserable. This was the first they had found nestled in the foothills of the Northern Mountain. Smoke rose from chimneys, which meant villagers huddled indoors around the fires that made the smoke. Only one danger faced them now; tracks abounded everywhere, packing the snow into ice sheets in some places, particularly around the town well.

A sign with a picture of a horned bull hung over one of the doors with the words "Bull's Head Inn" beneath it. Lights flickered behind the frosted glass, casting a warm glow into the street. Voices of laughter and revelry reached them.

Exactly what she had long sought since leaving Arronfel. Calli let out a sigh, glad to have found a warm place to stay.

Jayson smiled and led her through the door while Ellead tied the horse to the post outside. The door hinges creaked in the cold air a clear note of resistance.

The moment she stepped into the dining room, Calli inhaled the scents of wood smoke, inebriation, and food. Her stomach growled its insistence for food, and she pulled the scarf down from her face, her numb cheeks welcoming the warmth.

A counter ran from behind the door to the center of the room and made a sharp corner to the wall to form a square of space set off from the main area. On the opposite side of the room, a fire spit and crackled in the stone fireplace. Around the warmth sat a group of men, a serving maid near them with a pitcher of frothy mead in her hand, ready to pour for the next empty mug.

From the opposite end of the bar came a husky man of ample girth with a day's growth of stubble on his jaw. He hustled toward them in three long strides, his hands occupied with drying a plate, and squinted at them, a look of distrust glinting from his small eyes. "What business have you, strangers?"

Jayson ignored the suspicion in his voice and threw back his hood with a charming smile. How did he do that? She only wished she could feel as confident. When he reached his hand back for her, she curled her fingers in his. The quiet strength of his touch settled the anxiety grating in her mind. He pulled her to his side.

"My wife and I need lodging."

Calli swore her heart stopped. The heat of a blush rose to her cheeks. They had never discussed any disguises. Wife? She could only play along at this point, but why that? Not that she disagreed, but what did it mean? Anything?

The bartender peered over their shoulders through squinting eyes. Ellead stood alone behind them, trying not to attract attention. "What o' the boy?"

"A friend's son. We agreed to bring him this far until his uncle meets us."

The man harrumphed but indicated the dark alcove across the bar. "Take your pick. I've three rooms open, what with these beasts they tell gobbling anyone they find, and winter here. Bad enough the season than these flying devils."

"Thank you." Jayson gave a nod and tossed the man a coin.

The bartender turned the coin over in his hand, nodding in satisfaction. "Stay as long as yeh wish. Follow the stairs and mind the fifth—a bit loose." He was suddenly friendlier, but money did that to people.

Jayson smiled and steered Calli through the mostly empty tables and chairs. The group of a half dozen smiling faces near the fire raised their glasses to them in good cheer as they passed.

Jayson tossed them a two-fingered salute in return. She recognized the gesture—Marjan's men had used it as an informal friendly greeting. "Many happy returns, gentlemen."

In response, two of the men returned the salute, showing the backs of their hands for a second, long enough for Calli to catch the glint of metal on their wrists peeking out from beneath long sleeves. A second later, they drank in earnest.

Bracers bearing some design she didn't catch. Only nobles paid that kind of money. They must have been king's men. Had Jayson known?

After they passed the group, Calli leaned close to Jayson. "You'd never guess those things caused trouble here."

"Or the people have nothing left and take pleasure in what remains," Ellead said from behind.

Jayson and Calli both looked back.

"There's a happy thought." Sarcasm clung to Jayson's words. "I'd rather believe these men have the world in their hearts."

Calli restrained a grin, silently agreeing with Jayson's assessment and surprised by Ellead's words. He had never shown any bit of pessimism in the time they traveled together. Maybe this was a result of the loss of Fenwar.

They continued up the spiral stairs to the second floor, where a row of three doors ran down each side of the corridor to the privy at the end of the hall. On three of the doors hung vacancy signs, two of them on opposite sides of the hall.

Jayson chose one and opened the door. No better than the front door, it creaked an announcement into the corridor. Calli cringed and followed Jayson into a tiny room. A window opposite the door looked out on the empty street and a fireplace sat cold on the wall between. The bed was empty but made against the wall across from the fireplace.

"Cozy." Ellead sounded less than enthused.

"There are two others."

At the sincerity of Jayson's words, Calli looked to him in surprise.

"May I?" Astonishment rang in the boy's voice.

"We've limited currency." Calli hoped not to have to spend any more than necessary or go hunting bandits to rob what they had taken from innocent victims.

Jayson's grin betrayed the mischief in those blue eyes. "Then we'd best not arouse suspicions by staying apart."

This time she knew what he intended—a chance to talk. Or was it? What was his purpose for staying in the same room?

Before she could ask, Ellead jumped across the hall to the opposite door and pulled the sign.

Jayson caught him with his voice. "Mind you not to forget our supplies."

Ellead nodded and ducked inside. The door clapped shut.

"Now." Jayson's eyes danced over her in the light from the door. "To keep you out of sight."

Calli followed him into the room. The door clapped shut behind her, closing her in the darkness. Only a faint light from outside entered the room through the window, enough to see logs stacked ready in the fireplace. She shivered but pulled her hood off, along with the woolen scarf, while he made work of starting the fire.

With questions circling in her head, she squatted next to him. "You knew they were the king's men."

Jayson fumbled in the dark on the floor in front of the hearth. In the faint light through the frosted window, she caught his shrug.

Not good enough. She wanted an explanation. "How?"

"Observation." The telltale scratch of a flint brought no sparks the first time. Jayson kept trying.

Calli sat back and pulled her knees up to rest her chin. She should have recognized the signs herself. She had spent many nights around Marjan's men but preferred the company of the men who accompanied her and Jayson before meeting the remainders of the army. She wished she'd paid more attention to the small things, but she had taken on the task of cleaning up the old fortress or fought to prove her skills and had little time for merriment, and little patience for their kind.

After several tries, Jayson started an ember in the straw kindling. "There." He blew gently on it, encouraging a small flame to appear.

Satisfied, he sat back and watched the fire climb onto small twigs, from which it would burn hot enough to start the logs.

"I think the men below might be the ones we hoped to find. But—" He reached over and smoothed down the loose hairs of her red braid with his hand. "I think you'd best stay here, unless you wish to fill the pockets of someone eager to please Tyrkam."

"No thanks." Although she wanted to speak with the king's men herself, none could mistake her identity. She had made a name for herself and rumors had spread, leaving her now to hide if they wished to stay in peace.

"I'll not be gone long." With a smile, Jayson left her.

Calli stared into the fire, barely noticing the clap of the door shutting behind him. The warmth of the crackling fire permeated the constant cold of their travels. She focused on banishing that chill.

When her stomach growled, she put her hand to her middle and wished Jayson returned soon with food.

Some time passed and Calli added more wood to the fire while her patience wore thin to the point that she paced before the fire roaring as hot as her temper. Where was Jayson? Had something happened?

She stopped an easy pace from the door and studied it as if she could will him to appear. Too much time had passed since he left her, and her stomach objected to being empty. What if his merry-making had taken a wrong turn?

Unlikely. She had heard nothing from below but the occasional burst of laughter. Damn him!

She paced again to the window and looked out on the street through the frost around each pane. Too many losses towered over her, threatening to topple her in emotions she wished to avoid but could not escape alone in the room.

"How much time must pass for you to consider long?"

The creek of the door caught her attention. Ellead peeked in, their supplies in hand. At least someone had the sense to check in on her. Maybe she should forget Jayson's warning and go down and remind him why she was wanted by Tyrkam. That held a certain satisfying appeal.

"Pardon me," Ellead said.

Calli let out a deep breath and smiled. "Have you seen Jayson?"

"He leads the men in song and cheer." He set the armload down on the floor near the bed. "I know o' no other o' such high spirits."

High spirits, indeed! Calli suppressed a growl while sorting through the blankets and bags for food to make use of the grinding of her teeth in frustration. That he had been able to join the camaraderie was good, if not that he seemed to have forgotten his words to her. She shoved things aside with more force than necessary.

When she found the dry cakes and curds, Calli put one of the cakes to her lips. She longed for a drink to wash it down, but with none in reach, she forced herself to swallow to calm the growling of her stomach.

"I...suppose y'd be hungry."

At the hesitation in Ellead's voice, Calli paused in taking another mouthful. She smiled in better humor. So involved in her own hunger had she been that she had forgotten him and was immediately sorry.

"Have you eaten yet?"

He pursed his lips and dodged her gaze. "They gave me a plate below."

"What?" No one had bothered to think of her? "He made me sit here waiting for him."

"He tried to get away, but they insisted he stay."

"Jayson!" She cursed the name. How dare he keep her waiting for him!

"Yes?"

She whirled at the voice. He stood in the door with a nonchalant air.

Ellead squeezed past him to the hall behind. "I'll be...going now. G'night, milady. Jayson." He gave a nod to each and rushed out.

"Sleep well," Jayson said. He switched hands on the steaming cups he held, moving one from his left hand to his right so he carried both in one hand. With his free hand, he latched the door behind him, sealing them in without interruption.

She tore into the cake with her teeth in her frustration before crossing the room to the window. Now that he was back, she needed her space to cool her mood.

Calli gazed out into the street, where a dark, cloaked figure walked. She watched, if just to take her mind off wanting to beat some sense into Jayson. The indignity of it all! He had no right to keep her waiting and leave her hungry.

The person crossed through the light cast from a window. Her heart jumped into her throat at the face that looked up from beneath the hood, a menacing smile upon black lips all she could clearly see.

Lusiradrol! It could not be! She swallowed the lump of fright and took a deep breath to calm herself. The figure moved off as if nothing happened. Had it been real?

"Forgive me, but I could not leave without dishonoring our hosts." Boards groaned from Jayson's steps behind her.

"Hot cider?"

"What?" Calli blinked away her thoughts at the distraction of the steaming cup he reached around for her to take. Her mouth watered at the scent of cinnamon. After switching hands holding the food, she took the hot cup and sipped. Heat poured down her throat. It warmed her insides as the fire could not and soothed away the faint trembling.

Jayson backed off, by the creaking objection of the floor boards, and settled down before the fire. Her anger melted away with the warmth of the drink and the distraction of her mind.

"I cannot abide the feeling of being locked up against my will." Her tone scolded him.

"I know."

She turned to him, to the sparkling of his eyes and the warmth of his face. It stole away the rest of her anger. Damn him for that too.

Calli sat down next to him before the fire. "For that I left my home."

"What can I say, but that I'd have it no other way."

She studied the lines of his face, the softness and humor always there but for the rare moment. Yet, a shadow of sorrow hung over his mood since he had returned to her, despite his attempts to hide it.

She wanted to hate him yet for forgetting her, but she couldn't help but pity his loss. He deserved a moment of joy, although she would rather it had not been at her expense.

"I intended to return sooner."

His words and his tone of asking for forgiveness made her feel bad for being angry with him.

They sat in silence while Calli finished the cake and ate a little more—tough stuff that traveled well, especially in winter. With her stomach settled, she placed them aside to finish the cider. He could have brought her a plate in consideration, but the cider was bliss.

"I believe Lauckney will be coming by tonight to talk about Ellead."

He must have meant one of the soldiers downstairs. At least then they could be sure Eldred's boy had some protection on the road back to Arronfel. And General Marjan would receive the news.

Eldred's boy, she thought with amusement. Although only a couple years older than Ellead, she felt a generation older. Time had passed almost without her notice since she had left home.

Or what had been her home. Everything was different now.

Calli dropped her hand to the pendant beneath her clothes. The lump pressed into her chest beneath it. She pictured the palace as she last looked upon it in the morning sun. With it came the regrets, the sorrow of loss.

She pushed away the memories of home, and Duke. So much had changed; she had changed. She sighed and looked up at Jayson, who tipped his head back for the last drops of cider in his mug.

Afterwards, he set it aside and gazed quietly into the flames snapping at the air.

She watched him for many seconds before saying in her father's language, ["Your thoughts are deep."]

He blinked and turned to her with a hint of a smile.

"Can you tell me?"

"I was thinking of what you said once...twice...a couple ideas, really."

Calli frowned, wondering exactly what she had said.

Jayson reached towards the pile of supplies Ellead dropped and pulled out her sword. He sat back against the bed and unsheathed the blade, holding it upright in the firelight. Shorter than a longsword, the actual blade was also more delicate in appearance and shimmered faintly of green.

"A fine piece of craftsmanship this."

"You said it had dragon scale in the metal?" Calli noticed the glint of green now, which she had not seen before.

He turned the blade horizontal and ran his thumb over the etched writing of the crossbar.

"You can read that?" she asked.

"It's a dialect of Gairdran changed very little in the thousands of years since the Ancient language was last used on Ayrule."

Holding the sheath in his other hand, he slipped the sword into it. When he offered it to her, Calli took it from him.

"No ordinary smith crafted this weapon."

She looked up to the shadows on his face and shook her head at the question in his eyes. "I know not. Phelan is gone with that secret. He only said the swordsmith was one my father knew."

Pursing his lips, Jayson gazed into the fire. For what seemed an eternity, he said nothing but stroked the line of beard along his jaw with his finger. When he spoke, his eyes flickered with the reflection of the fire.

"I dare say someone knew your heritage."

"What heritage?"

"That you are descended from the First Race created by the Majera to combat the Darklord. That you possess their ability to control magic."

Calli shook her head in disbelief. Her, able to control magic? Except that she had done something with the sword, she would have laughed in his face. "What are the Ancients?"

"The Ancients, as they First Race is now known, defeated the Darklord with the help of the dragons, but they failed to kill him. He came back and sent hordes of creatures—C'Lupuc, nekrethe, and others—against them. They could not survive. Those who did fled and took refuge on several remote islands. One of those was named Loringale.

"The magic in this blade would not work for an ordinary person. Only the weapons of the Ancients contained such power, because they are the only ones who can command it and the only ones who know how to use dragon scales, or so it was thought."

"But you use magic. You said the Ancients commanded such power."

Jayson shook his head. "I am of the Second Race, as anyone we've encountered. And I a descendant, a child, of the Light, athêrred rî Lûmea. While I'm not an Ancient, I possess a small part of the Light from which to draw upon. It is this direct connection that allows me to use magic, but I cannot sustain it for long periods." He pulled the sword from the scabbard and held it up to her.

Calli took the weapon in both hands and held it upright before her.

"Your ancestors were made to control all magic, as a weapon against the Darklord. Your father knew this, I've no doubt."

"Why did he not tell me?" she murmured. When a reassuring hand warmed her shoulder, she looked up to the gentle expression on his face.

"Men like Tyrkam would stop at nothing for such power. That's why he took your friend. Your father would have realized this, although why he left the security of Loringale is beyond my understanding. None of the Ancients have been seen for thousands of years." In a lower voice, he added, "Men of the Second Race drove them out of the few strongholds that remained to them."

"How has this come to you?"

"The Council of Seven was granted open access to our master's knowledge, or more of it than the others." He dropped his hand and leaned back with a pensive frown.

She watched for a sign of further explanation, but he gave none. "Your Sh'lahmar?"

Jayson nodded, a hint of sadness sagging his features. He had told her the details of the release of the Red Clan since his return. She pitied him for the guilt he carried from the attack.

A knock on the door startled her. Calli caught her breath, while Jayson rose and stepped over her. He reached the door and opened it without a word.

In the dim light of the hall stood one of the men from downstairs, one of the two who had acknowledged his greeting.

Calli set the sword aside and stood. She briefly met Jayson's eyes for confirmation before fixing her attention on the man. "You must be Lauckney."

"Aye, m'lady. So, he told you, has he?" He smiled and let himself into the room. She noted the lines of harsh years upon his brow and the shag of brown hair on his head. "Then you know I've a curiosity o' your friend here."

He turned to Jayson, who closed the door. "You gave all signs o' wantin to talk."

Jayson nodded and explained the situation with Ellead. He told the man of the protected base in the mountains where Marjan hid from Tyrkam's men. Lauckney nodded and grunted in response.

When Jayson finished, the soldier took a deep breath and said, "A fine tale yeh wag. But I'd not believe it without seein'."

Jayson looked to Calli and held out his hand. After a second for her to figure what he wanted, she handed him the chain bearing the pendant of the royal seal of Cavatar. As Marjan had not believed her until he saw it, so was it with this man.

Jayson held his palm open with the pendant exposed to the man. "Here is proof of my word."

Lauckney took the chain and held it up in the firelight. "How can this be?"

"From a servant of the royal family as it was bestowed upon her."

Lauckney turned to Calli as if seeing her for the first time. "Unless yeh be a thief escaped from the palace, y'd be as yeh say." He offered his other hand to Jayson, who accepted it. "You have an escort for the lad."

Jayson smiled as they parted hands. "I'll tell him first thing come morning."

"Aye. I'll like to see this mountain area. It must be somethin'." Lauckney held the pendant out for Calli. "Never lose this, lass."

Calli slipped the chain back over her head, feeling its weight heavier than before.

When Jayson opened the door, the soldier stepped out. "I promise you'll not be disappointed. Sleep well."

"Good night." He tipped his head to Calli. "M'lady."

Jayson closed the door behind him and latched it shut. "That's done."

"Can we trust him to his word?"

"I believe so. I sensed no duplicity."

"Then you'll take me to the princess?" After all her time, she would finally rejoin her friend, the reason she had left the palace.

"You'll join your friend." Jayson took her hand and lifted it to kiss the back.

Warmth flooded up through her at his soft touch and the coy sparkle in his eyes.

He winked and released her hand. "For tonight, sleep well, my lady."

He removed the blanket from their pack and curled up on the floor in front of the fire.

That was all he would say or do? What perverse pleasure did he take in confusing her?

_______________

# Damaera

Damaera swallowed her heart, which she swore had jumped out of her chest. She tried to stay calm facing the threat that left a void in the magic. She would not falter in the face of the shadowy creature.

Not long ago, they began seeing it—a shadow. Upon its passing, it left a chill on the soul as of death. No solid features existed within the blackness, but the shape of wings held it aloft, never to touch the ground with its legless form.

Damaera faced the creature now in her bedchamber shared with her sister. Glad she was not alone, she glanced aside at Gayleana. The shadowy demon hovered before them in more solid form than any previous sighting.

Magic and something more drained from her, as if the creature fed upon her soul. Damaera shivered in the chill after the extinguishing of the fire in the hearth. Her breath turned to frost in the air.

A warm hand grabbed hers, forming an instant connection of shared power. Together, she and Gayleana created a shield.

The magic failed. They looked at each other and focused deeper. They formed another shield, but the power escaped them.

The creature sucked away their power at each turn, weakening them while it solidified.

Damaera blinked to keep her eyes open. Having been caught in the midst of sleep, she grew more tired with each turn. By the drooping eyelids and yawning, Gayleana fared no better.

Before sleep grew too heavy, the door slammed open. The intensity of the light filling the room made Damaera shade her eyes. Although she could not see the high priestess's face, something in her identified the being as their teacher.

Tahronen's voice rang out in clear, commanding tones. "Lethan in trî! Ennêdra lien nâ, nekreth!"

A screeching hiss responded with a maliciousness that shuddered through Damaera. She covered her ears but could not muffle the hideous noise.

"Tû adra mora ther ôn!"

Again, the creature screeched.

The light of Tahronen flared. As if the whole universe opened up its power, the Light passed through Damaera. With her eyes closed, it blinded her.

A shriek pierced the air. The void sucking away their power shattered like glass, and the fullness granted by the inner Light renewed her strength.

When the light faded, Damaera dared to open her eyes and squinted at the calm beauty of the high priestess. Behind her, a throng of curious faces peered in through an open door.

Tahronen sighed. "It will bother you no more."

"Is it gone?" Gayleana asked.

"The answer you wish I cannot grant. The nekrethe are vile abominations. The Darklord created them to steal the life of those who opposed him. Only he can destroy them, by reabsorbing them." Tahronen turned as the others crept into the small room. "I suspect this one felt his presence when Lusiradrol attacked."

"Will it return?" one of the younger girls asked.

"Perhaps, in time."

"Why was it after us?"

Tahronen looked on Damaera with knowing eyes. "The Darklord touched you. The whisper of Lusiradrol's darkness lingers still and awoke the sleeping demon. The nekrethe seek their master, but this one took advantage upon its awakening to feed."

Silence fell over them.

After a moment of contemplation, Tahronen lifted her head and smiled. "Fear not. The nekrethe are not without weakness, as you saw. Inside each of you burns the Light that can banish the demons. Call on it and you will weaken them."

"Them, High Priestess?" one of the others asked.

"How many are there?"

"When last I knew, three yet had not been reabsorbed. This one, we know its location." Tahronen turned for the door, her presence pressing the others out of the bedchamber. At the door, she turned back to the sisters. "This one has retreated. It will sleep a while longer while it recovers, until the Darklord reawakens it once more. Then we have much to fear."

When she exited, the door closed behind her. Damaera looked to Gayleana and shuddered. "I fear for the future of our world."

Gayleana nodded.

* * *

Although still dark in the morning after the attack, many of the other women and girls sat in the common area before the fireplaces. They practiced generating light to fend off the darkness.

The sky rumbled, but no one seemed to notice.

Disturbed from her practice, Damaera strode directly to where Tahronen stood over one group. "Have you no concern of that?"

Tahronen listened a moment and smiled, her demeanor calm. "Had I worried, you would not have rested. They clear the debris."

Almost a whole moon cycle had passed since Lusiradrol attacked with her Red Clan. The Lumathir had survived but at a price. The mountain formed a dome over the gardens and their living area. Tahronen had said the dragons would dig them out and take Damaera to her daughter in Eyr Droc.

Damaera listened. The thunder was not the same as the rumblings before the nekreth appeared. She let out a sigh of relief. Being dug out from under the mountain meant that soon she would see Istaria.

"A few more days and we shall see sky once more," Tahronen said.

The other women generated small luminescent spheres, unconcerned with her fate. Hopefully she would be gone before the vile nekreth returned, but part of her worried for the girls and women she had come to know as sisters.

_______________

# Calli

Wind howled and rattled against glass, overpowering the crackling of a fire. Cold and hot vied for dominance.

Calli shivered and stretched beneath the covers,, determined to stay warm. When she was ready to admit the day, she opened her eyes.

Jayson's smile rested on the edge of the mattress, his eyes fixed on her and his hands clasped before him. "I trust you slept well?"

She pushed herself up onto her elbow. How long had he sat watching her sleep? How could he be so perky at that hour? "How was the floor?"

He shrugged. "Hard, but no worse than the ground."

She thought to say something, but the rattling of the window stole her attention. Snow splattered in large puffs against the glass, thrown as projectiles by the wind.

Calli had planned to leave that day to see her friend. So much for that idea.

"Not a joyful sight but not unexpected." Jayson moved away from the bed, giving her room to sit up.

She threw back the blankets, glad she had slept in her clothes. Although the fire crackled and spat in the fireplace, it could not chase away the cold of a winter storm. The extra clothes provided some protection, but they could not rid her of the image chilling her soul. Last night by the light from a window...

She shivered more from the thought than the cold. "Then I cannot be certain."

His brow furrowed. "Certain of what?"

"Lusiradrol." The woman must have conjured the weather. They would find no trace of her now.

Jayson's mood darkened at the name. He climbed to his feet, his eyes never leaving her. "When?"

"Last night, when I... was mad. I saw someone in the street. I'd swear by my honor, but I'm not certain. Maybe it was someone else." She studied his face for confirmation, but he said nothing, nor had he seen the figure. "I can think of no reason she would walk by, but now any tracks will be gone."

"Unfortunately, I can." Since her recovery from the dragon attack, he had told her of his encounter in the mountains with Lusiradrol while riding to his home. "An odd thing of this woman—she finds delight in teasing her victims."

Victims? Calli shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. What did Lusiradrol want?

"Worry not your mind with this." Jayson gently brushed loose locks of red from her face. "Whatever her purpose, you'll not face her alone."

As much as she wanted to believe all would be well, he had told her too much to worry her. She wished she knew what Lusiradrol might want with her, but only vile images came to mind. Calli wished she had listened to her voice of caution and had never agreed to the bargain.

Now she would pay for her unreasonable ambition.

"What is done is done, as you told me," Jayson said. "We cannot undo the past. But we can plan for the future."

Calli blinked away the visions and focused on the blue eyes gazing down at her. When he offered his hand to help her to her feet, she took it, and he pulled her up.

Snow stuck to the edges of the window and corners with melted streaks over the middle. It fell in large clumps of flakes with such fury that she saw only a white sheet.

"We'll be here a while."

Not what she wanted to hear. She wanted to see her friend. Now that she was close to seeing Istaria once again, after all her struggles to reach her, winter decided to delay her. She should have expected it.

"Lauckney says he's seen nothing like it. I'd not doubt Lusiradrol did this."

"Why? What purpose?"

Jayson shrugged. "Her own reasons."

Why would the woman keep them there? It made no sense.

Nothing made sense. She needed something else to think about. If she would be stuck there for any length of time, the least Calli could do was clean herself, and she hoped Jayson would do the same. Not since she had awakened from her death had her hair been brushed and her clothes fresh. And he smelled less than fresh.

"Jayson?"

"My lady?"

A smile sprang to her lips at his formal address. "I've a favor to ask."

"Have you any request within my power, I will grant it."

She smirked as he bowed with a flare she had not seen since he left Arronfel. That hint of his old self lifted her mood.

"I need water to clean myself."

He paused as if uncertain.

"Please, then leave me while I change."

"So shall it be." Jayson backed out the door with a smile.

Calli gazed out the window, the wind rattling the glass too much to hear the door clap shut behind her. Cold air radiated from the window. With the warm fire at her back, she tolerated the chill.

How long would the storm last? She hoped it let up soon, but with the way the snow fell, they would find travel difficult at best when they could leave. At least it came when they had sufficient shelter. If Lusiradrol wished to harm them, she could have done so while they were in the open, barely able to keep warm, much less sleep.

What was the woman's purpose for keeping them there? Or had Calli imagined the cloaked figure last night?

While she stared into her thoughts, the snow mesmerized her in its flurry. The closing of the door could not pull her from her daze.

Yield no thought to her.

Calli started at the voice in her head and blinked away her worries. An instant later, she remembered how Jayson projected his voice into her mind.

She turned around to a smirk on his face. "I never heard you come."

"I noticed." He set a pail of steaming water near the foot of the bed. "I'll be below, if you need me."

"Thanks."

With a nod, he exited. She immediately latched the door behind him.

"Now," she muttered, "Where's that gift from Llaeryn?" She could change clothes and wash the ones she wore. For a while, all worries of Lusiradrol slid aside.

_______________

# Gaispar

Gaispar breathed in the scent of wood smoke from the fire warm on her back. After several days, the wounds from her attack by the stranger were nearly healed. She would soon leave the company of the herdsman and his wife.

He had originally planned to kill her with the other wolves which preyed on his livestock, but her plea had stopped him.

When she first awoke before the fire, he had offered some of his wife's stew. The delicious mix of meat, potatoes, and other vegetables satisfied her hunger. In gratitude, she had pushed her nose into his hand when he offered it. From that point, he tended her wounds without hesitation.

The hounds kept their distance from her, though, along with his shrewish wife.

She would love to stay as one of his pets, but she could not forsake her task. Luckily, the storm raging outside removed her guilt of resting, but when it let up, she would have to leave. Makleor had asked her to follow the shapeshifter sent out by Tyrkam, and she had lost him, although he had made a line toward the mountains before their fight. She could pick up the trail again knowing that.

Should she return to Makleor to tell him what she knew? Or would the best choice be to find the stranger? If he was dead, she would have no more answers. If he had survived, however, he would likely hide while he healed from the arrow.

What lay in the mountains that he sought? Surely Tyrkam could not expect him to cause trouble for the Lumathir.

The answer had plagued her, teasing at the fringe of her thoughts since the pain had lessened. As the distraction from her wounds decreased by the day, her mind played with ideas in more detail.

Had Tyrkam sent the man to do something to the princess? If so, the dragons would not allow it. As a shapeshifter, a child of Light, as opposed to a creation of the Darklord, the man would be able to pass through the gateway unencumbered, but the others would feel his presence. Not only that, but Darius would allow no harm to come to Istaria.

Gaispar stretched out on her side and sighed. Her head hurt from trying to solve a problem with too many possibilities.

"Eh." The herdsman's wife, Myrna, grunted her distaste. "Act like yeh own me place. Don' know why James cares. Y'll jus' be eatin' the calves come spring. Magic beast, me foot!"

It had been the same every day from the woman. Gaispar had learned to ignore her.

James had scolded his wife once about rejecting magical beasts lest they curse one. Normally, Gaispar would have laughed about the superstition, but in this case, she took advantage of it.

"Shoulda been back already." Myrna peered out the ice-crusted window into the encroaching night. Concern warmed her tone.

Gaispar lifted her head in curiosity. Was it possible that he had lost his way? After all the care he gave her, Gaispar could not sit by while James froze to death, not to be found until spring thaw. That time came soon, but not soon enough.

Well enough to leave had the storm not kept her there, she jumped to her feet. The least she could do was to help the man who had been kind and aided her recovery.

"Eh?" The woman blinked squinty eyes, her mouth set in a scowl.

Gaispar stood at the door, her eyes and ears fixed forward like their dogs when they wished to go out. From the beginning, she had copied their behavior.

Only James let her back inside.

"Want out, do ya?"

Giving Gaispar the full distance allowed in the small cabin, the woman unlatched the door and opened it a crack. Cold and snow blew in on a bitter wind. "You can stay out as far as I care."

A snow drift halfway up the door crumbled down inside. Gaispar took a deep breath and sprang through the small opening. She cleared the top of the drift but found herself holding her head above the snow beyond.

Clumps of snow assaulted her eyes. She could see nothing but a dizzying white blur. The howling wind sent shivers through her, but the thick, white coat kept out the worst of the cold. Finding him by smell was as much out of the question as sight. She would have to rely on magic.

Everything affected the forces of magic in its own way, and she had never forgotten the first lesson Makleor had taught her three hundred years ago. Although as a mere shapeshifter she couldn't affect magic, she was still a part of it and could sense the changes.

She concentrated on the presence she knew as James and followed it, but it had faded from what she recognized. It led away from the ripples she identified as the cows and sheep, which stayed comfortable in the barn out of the horrid weather.

When she passed outside the barn, she barely made out a hint of masonry peeking out of the snow at the corner. The rest was buried or held a thick coat of the white stuff to match the hills.

She looked back at the house, the direction from which the presence of Myrna originated. Nothing but white.

I've not to ask that you wandered. Worry gripped her heart that James had lost his way. Please be alive!

Springing over the deep drifts left her tired, but she had to find him. She followed to where his presence in the magic led but saw nothing but white.

With her nose to the powder, she dug for the presence. A hint of his scent reached her—the smell of animals and his body. In no time, she scratched at his heavy coat.

Gaispar grabbed it in her teeth and pulled him free of the snow so she could get at his face.

Wake up, James, she called to his mind.

He stirred and mumbled something but no more.

Damned be the cold! It brought on its lethargy and disorientation. She grabbed his shoulder in her teeth and pulled in the direction of the house. Leaving him was not an option.

Not far from where they started, a hand slapped across her face. Startled, Gaispar let go.

He had moved of his own accord. Over the howling wind and near his head, she barked loudly.

"Huh? Hmm? What's that racket?" Bundled tight in his winter clothes, he rolled over to gaze at her.

Gaispar licked his cold face in gratitude. Stay with me.

He blinked with snow-covered lashes and reached up for her. If he could get a grip, she might pull him out. A hand slapped her shoulder and fingers dug into her thick coat. He pulled hard at her coat, but she clamped her jaws on the yelp that escaped.

After a difficult struggle against the snow, he managed to stand.

His will was strong to regain consciousness and fight to keep upright and moving in the bitter cold and knee-high snow.

She stayed beside him, leading to the house a step at a time.

When he stumbled, she helped pull him to his feet. If she allowed him to rest, he would lose consciousness to the numbing effects of the cold. She would not let that happen. Keeping him moving was the key.

He stumbled more often as they neared the house. Finally, within a few steps of the door, he fell face down. Frantic that he had succumbed to the cold so close to rescue, Gaispar grabbed his coat and pulled. This time, he remained unconscious. It could not end like this, not so close! She dragged him with small jerks, an inch at a time.

An eternity passed until the door bumped against her hindquarters. Gaispar barked at the top of her voice and scratched on the door for the woman to open it. If only Myrna would listen to reason!

When a shimmer of light flickered against the snow, Gaispar took a good grip of his coat in her teeth and tugged with all her remaining strength.

"James!"

Myrna shoved Gaispar out of the way and took over. With more strength than Gaispar expected, the woman pulled him inside.

Panting from her efforts but needing to know his condition, Gaispar stood over him. Myrna ignored her and latched the door before pulling him to the fire. There, she removed his heavy clothes, now wet with the melting snow.

After piling two or three blankets on him, Myrna sat back. She looked up at Gaispar, gratitude painted over her face. "Thank you."

Satisfied that he would recover, Gaispar shook the wetness from her pelt and laid down beside him. She welcomed the peace filling her at being able to save him. The debt repaid was much more than that. The white dragon had fought to save the world.

No matter what the Darklord did to corrupt the men of the Second Race, he could not extinguish the good qualities. That was worth fighting for.

_______________

# Makleor and Dorjan

Makleor sighed and old bones quaked.

All the land seemed bound by the relentless blizzard. The storm had already lasted several days and reeked of magic. Dark currents raced through it all, commanding the wind and the snow. Lusiradrol had her hands in this, of that he held no doubts.

Perhaps this was why she had sent her wyverns elsewhere, to avoid the storm she planned.

The harsh weather caused him no grief. He only objected that the weather would hinder the elder drakes from battling the Red Clan. If they could not confront and kill some of the beasts, more would survive long enough to multiply.

Makleor bristled at the thought. Could it be that she had a clutch ready to hatch but wished to protect them?

He hoped not. Wyverns grew fast, reaching full maturity within ten to twelve years. They could kill a horse by the time they reached two.

The dragons of Eyr Droc grew all their lives but could not reproduce until they reached a century old. They also limited their hatchings to what their herds could support.

The beasts of the Darklord had two limits to birth rates: Only the strongest female mated, and the eggs usually numbered no more than five or six in a clutch. If the first eggs were ready to hatch, then the race had begun.

Makleor hobbled through the corridor dimly lit with candles flickering in alternating wall sconces. His staff echoed steady taps on stone, and the chill of winter shivered down tired bones.

He needed the walk to clear his head. Too many problems rose before him, a growing mountain of obstacles to overcome in the race to save their world.

Nearly as bad as Lusiradrol's plans, Vahrik had gained a following among the younger men. They plotted a rebellion, starting with the felling of Tyrkam's second, Dorjan, or as was his true name, Lêath. Tyrkam's lieutenant suspected as much, of that Makleor was certain, but not even he could take on a full army alone.

The rush of multiple feet pattered an echo down the corridor to him. The dark intents of the owners of those feet carried through the magic.

Makleor touched the magic flowing around him and hid in the shadows.

A group of young men led by Vahrik rushed past him down the hall. The son of Tyrkam held his head high with arrogance.

Three others strode a step behind him, dressed all in black with gold accents. Their intent glimmered in dark, greedy eyes. Each gripped the pommel of his sword belted at his waist. On the opposite hip, they wore additional daggers curved like the scimitars of the Rivon.

Makleor recognized them. The son of Tyrkam had appointed the rogue warriors his personal guards and confidantes, his shadow guards, as he liked to call them. They strode with confidence and purpose, killers stalking their prey.

Hidden by magic as he had done many times with Tyrkam, Makleor followed. He slipped from shadow to shadow like an eel through water. They led him up the stairway to the next level, the highest since the wyvern had crushed the top two floors of the keep.

After sending his trio to be sure no one lingered in the hall, Vahrik directed them to one of the doors.

They opened the door a crack with the faintest of noise and used hand motions to communicate their directions. Stealthy as cats cornering a mouse, they crept into the room, where the one man who threatened Vahrik's newfound power slept—Dorjan.

While Vahrik waited outside, the three shut the door behind them with barely a snick of the catch.

Makleor waited, a smirk on his face. Vahrik underestimated his prey.

The burly old warrior could hold his own. Dorjan had joined Tyrkam years ago, after confronting him on the road to battle. The red-haired warrior had handily defeated the bandit Tyrkam in a one-on-one fight but let him live, to which Tyrkam offered him a position helping to train the young men who sought to join him. Dorjan had no interest in power but agreed.

He had proven many times, almost to a fault, that his loyalty lay with Tyrkam. Not what Makleor would have expected of his kind.

* * *

They came. His waiting would end. The insolent child at last made his move. Dorjan counted more than one set of feet not silent enough, but he would take them all. They would not have him.

Sighing heavily as one does in their sleep, Dorjan masked the slide of his hand under his pillow for the dagger. His other hand grasped the pommel of his sword beside him under the covers.

His ears marked their movements surrounding his bed. They stepped with caution, as if they expected the possibility of his actions.

In the dark of the room, since the fire had long died, Dorjan grinned. He was ready.

Cloth whispered of movement in synchronization.

He gripped the cold, leather-wrapped pommels pressed in each of his palms in preparation.

The tone of their breathing changed, but they made no other sounds in preparation to strike.

Dorjan opened his eyes, aware of the shadow nearest him moving into position. Amateurs.

He whipped his hand out from under the pillow, flinging the dagger at the foot of his bed. Before that one grunted from the implantation of the blade, he stabbed forward with the sword and caught the shadow before him in the gut. The man groaned in pain and grabbed at the blade in desperation.

In the same instant, Dorjan rolled toward his sword and shoved the blade and its victim away. The man before him stumbled back.

Behind him the other man stabbed down too late and hit empty mattress.

In one smooth roll, Dorjan landed on his feet beside the bed and yanked his sword from his victim.

The man gurgled and thumped to the floor.

With his eyes adjusted to make out the outline of the last two standing, Dorjan faced them. The one nearest him lifted his hand, the outline of a dagger in it. He prepared to throw the bloodied dagger pulled from himself.

Dorjan dodged the projectile, using his sword as a shield. Metal clinked on metal and the weapon rattled on stone behind him.

With no other choice but death, the man rushed him. Dorjan easily subdued him again with a jab of his sword pommel in the man's jaw.

His eyes darted to the remaining shadow. That one stood unmoved.

Dorjan focused his attention on the last figure. Something set the hairs on the back of his neck upright. This one had not attacked again.

After the second man crumpled to the floor, silence remained.

The last man grunted with the strain of fighting something invisible.

Magic. The old mage. Taking advantage of the aid, Dorjan swung his sword in an arc and stopped. Instead of a killing thrust, he turned the sword and jabbed the pommel into the base of the man's neck, knocking him unconscious. The man crumpled to the floor in a still heap.

Killing them might be more merciful than what Vahrik would do when he discovered the truth, but that was not his problem.

In the renewed silence and cold, he shivered. He had worn most of his clothes to bed in anticipation of such an attack, but the cold of winter crept into the room with the death of his fire.

The light of day would expose the unsightly mess he could only imagine. After this, Vahrik would not survive as the lord of this castle.

Dorjan unlatched the door and pulled it open.

Vahrik's face outlined in flickering candlelight drained of color.

Dorjan pointed the bloody tip of his blade at the boy's throat and stepped toward him, intending to threaten him into submission.

Keeping a safe distance, Vahrik moved away with each step Dorjan took.

"I-I-I followed them here. I thought they might try something." His eyes fixed on the blood-stained sword. "I thought I overheard my father say something about not trusting anyone and intending that you should die once you returned."

The boy could lie worth a scrap. Dorjan tightened his grip in preparation to strike.

The tap of a staff rang off stone.

Both turned as the old mage hobbled into view.

When he looked back at Vahrik, Dorjan realized the boy had wisely distanced himself. Curse you, old man, for interfering. "This matter concerns you not."

"Hmm? What matter? A walk I said to take. A walk to shake up old bones."

The mage's good eye glinted from beneath his hood. He knew something. Had he frozen the third attacker?

"No matter. Yes. Back to my room." He waved his free hand as if to shoo them away. "No. Leave me alone."

Part of Dorjan wondered if Tyrkam was right in his suspicions about the old man. Had he purpose in his mad ways? The most cunning mind could achieve such a disguise.

"To bed, to bed," Makleor muttered and hobbled away.

Dorjan shook his head and turned back to Vahrik. The boy stood at the end of the hall, a smirk on his face. Realizing his opportunity had passed, Dorjan returned to his room. Had the storm not ended two days before, he would be trapped. Vahrik had staked his claim for power without denial. Time to leave.

_______________

# Vahrik and Lusiradrol

From the window of his planning room, Vahrik gazed out on the sun rising over the white landscape. In the courtyard below, Tyrkam's precious lieutenant raced out on horseback with a dozen other men. Vahrik sneered at the man, frustrated and angry that he had let him get away.

"It's better this way." The silken voice chilled his soul.

"You'd best be right about that." Vahrik turned to face her.

Lusiradrol smiled slyly. The black leather she wore accentuated her seductive curves, while the sharp claw holding her raven hair off her neck proved her true threat. She sat on the edge of the table with a casual air.

The dragon woman had appeared to him in the early hours after his attempt on Dorjan's life failed. She made a good case for letting the old warrior live long enough to return to Tyrkam. Although he doubted her reasons, Vahrik let Dorjan go. He was powerless to argue with her.

Now, the castle was his and his alone. A group of those loyal to Tyrkam accompanied the red-haired warrior. Only a few remained. He would dispose of them at his convenience.

"You promised me the princess."

"You promised to cut down the old forest."

Vahrik froze at the threat in her voice. They had cut some of the trees, but after a couple of days, things went awry. Saws broke, tools went missing, and they spent more time on repairs than on cutting. It had proven too much trouble.

"The forest is protected." And that was the least of their concerns. Most recently, the storm had halted all outdoor activity.

Her smile darkened with malice. "I know that. That's why it must be destroyed."

A chill raced through his soul. "How?"

"I trust you'll find a way."

Lusiradrol slid off the table and glided towards him, stopping face-to-face, her expression hard. "I want it gone."

"Easier said than done."

A teasing grin crept up black-red lips as she traced along his jaw line. "Perhaps you need encouragement."

He was listening. "What do you have in mind?"

"The mystery rider."

"You promised her more than a cycle ago."

She nodded. "I did. Have patience."

He clamped his jaw on the frustration boiling up. What took her so long? With her power she could give him any of what she had promised in short time.

"I've use for her yet before I hand her to you."

If that's how she wanted it, he could play that game. "When I have her, I'll clear the forest."

With a smile still on her face, Lusiradrol pressed her nail into his cheek. It cut with the sharpness of a claw in a line from below his cheek bone to the corner of his mouth.

Not wishing to show the pain she caused, Vahrik stood unflinching. He refused to bow to her.

"Do not make the same mistake as your father, little prince." Lusiradrol stepped back and vanished in a plume of fire.

Vahrik swiped his fingers across his cheek where a cool wetness dribbled down. In the morning sun shining through the windows, fresh blood shimmered from his fingertips.

* * *

Lusiradrol transported into the hot cavern.

The fool. He would suffer with the rest. Once Tyrkam learned of his son's betrayal, the two would keep each other busy fighting and hopefully kill each other in the process.

They would take care of each other for her.

Damn them!

She eyed the sleeping queen taking up most of the cavern. The steady heat of molten flows warmed the sanctuary and cast an orange glow over the walls.

In an area cleared of the natural obstacles lay the red queen. At the tap of Lusiradrol's steps, she opened her yellow eyes.

The firssst are ready.

Perfect. Lusiradrol had chosen that cavern in the Dark Hills for the shelter of the first queen, the dominant female, soon after awakening her clan. The humans dared not enter the western mountains of Ayrule for their acrid plumes from the many volcanoes.

In the old times, rumors circulated that the Darklord had claimed the lower mountains as one of his domains. He had established other such domains throughout the world on the other continents. This one was significant to Lusiradrol, but the reason had faded through the years.

Without a normal break for the cycle of the dragons, she insisted on as many egg clutches as possible. Two had been laid so far, with a third mating coming soon. The queen had laid only five in the first but eight in the second. Soon, the numbers culled by the Majera would be replaced and more.

"You've done well."

The dragon let out a deep breath. I am tired.

"Of course, but this is necessary, unless you wish another to take your place."

A low rumble reverberated from the queen's throat. She shifted her wings in agitation. No other isss worthy! I will not allow it!

"Good." What this queen did not know was the same as the other three in different parts of the world. With four breeding females instead of the usual one, their numbers would grow with a swiftness the enemy would not expect.

At one time, Lusiradrol had been the dominant female, but with a heart as black as her scales, she had borne an unquenchable desire to destroy the world. She had never mated.

Since her exile as a human, she had learned patience and discovered a dark satisfaction from the subtle manipulation of the lesser species. Death was too quick. Watching them suffer fulfilled her desires more than she had imagined as a dragon.

She had sent her clan out upon the world to feed and destroy as they wished, but they were spread thin with few surviving the Majera's magic. He had killed almost half her clan beneath the weight of the cavern in which they had slept.

She vowed revenge for his insolence.

Lusiradrol stood over the first clutch. Each egg measured the length of her arm with a diameter of just under that. Various patterns of black and brown mottled the shells.

While she stood over them, the faint stirrings of life scratched from inside. The eggs wobbled with the movements of the infantile dragons struggling to escape.

Tapping came from within several. A couple succeeded and broke through the hard shells. Tiny snouts poked out, nostrils flaring at their first breaths of air.

The queen lifted her head and watched her babies hatch.

This was the first time Lusiradrol had seen eggs hatch, yet she had experienced it. In her mind, a similar scene played out in a cavern almost identical...

A chilling laugh escaped him. The Majera were fools to think their dragons could defeat him and his creations. How ironic that they would face a twisted form of their creations, manipulated to serve him.

He lifted the first egg from the pit in which he had stewed his powers. With great care he had subjected them to the chaotic void that spawned him. Those forces had absorbed into the eggs in the time since his demons stole them.

Hatched dragons had proven futile to change, but the delicate embryos still in their eggs would be different. Imprinted on their minds would be the need to kill and destroy.

He set the egg on the ground, watching and listening for the dragon inside struggling to free itself. A tiny crack threaded its way across the brown and black mottled shell. The infant inside pecked its shell until its nostrils poked out, flaring at its first breath. The fluids inside made red scales shimmer.

None of the Majera's dragons were red. Theirs were colors that blended into nature.

The young dragon floundered, rocking its egg in its renewed struggle for freedom. It squawked and pressed against the shell, which split in half so the hatchling's hind legs stuck out. It lay on its back, breathing hard from its efforts.

Intrigued, the Darklord eyed his creation. The little dragon flopped until it righted itself, then pulled away from the shell over its head.

The red dragon stood on four limbs, its sides expanding and contracting rapidly.

Odd.

The separate front limbs were gone. It blinked yellow eyes at him in curiosity, leaning on the three-fingered claws on its wings for balance.

The dragons whose eggs his demons stole had no claws on the wings but instead separate front claws. Was this the only one affected in such a way?

He pulled out two more wobbling with life and watched them hatch. The same characteristics as the first appeared on them also.

After all nine hatched, he looked with satisfaction at his new creations. They watched him expectantly, a feeling of hunger projected from infantile minds.

With a thought, he called his demons to find meat for the dragons. They soon returned with several of the Majera's newest creatures, based on the corporeal forms they wore, bipedal abominations that spread like insects over the world—humans.

The injured men tried to run, but the Darklord's magic stayed their feet. The hatchlings were not yet fast enough to hunt, but pounced on them, feeding on the live meat with ravenous appetites while the men screamed in agony.

He smiled, foreseeing a day when all the creations of the Majera would be wiped from the world by his dragons.

Lusiradrol blinked away the last of the images. The sheer power of the master engulfed her. She thrilled to the touch of the void and the ability to contain such power.

How was it possible? The master was defeated before she hatched.

She looked down at her hands, half expecting them to burn with such forces. They appeared as normal human hands.

Once again, her eyes saw the nest, now containing three hatchlings while the rest wobbled with the dragons' struggles to break free.

"They will be hungry." From the vision, Lusiradrol knew the perfect meal for the newest members of her clan. "They shall feast on the best meat I know—human flesh." And catching them would be easy.

_______________

# Gaispar

The sun sliced through the room, casting a radiant light across the table and chairs where the couple sat. After the storm ended, Gaispar had waited a few more days. The drifts would be deep, but with her arm healed fully, she intended to fly. The time had arrived to continue her mission.

Now, her heart found it hard to say farewell after so much time with them. James had recovered fully, and after the rescue in the storm, Myrna fed Gaispar more of a ration than any of their dogs.

How could she thank them for their hospitality?

One thought came to mind. Gaispar lifted her head and hesitated. How would they react to a woman when they knew and trusted the wolf? The few times she ever changed form before ordinary people had been ill met.

"Eh?" Myrna looked from her to James, the disheveled hair catching the sun on every loose strand. "No ordinary wolf is that, James. The look in her eyes bothers me."

He turned around in his chair with a smile and reached down to pat Gaispar's head. "A great mind."

She'd half expected him to scold his wife, but he was too good for that.

The time had come. Gaispar ducked from his hand and transformed in seconds. She stood before them with a smile beneath her hood.

Chairs scraped back as they jumped to their feet.

Gaispar drew back her hood from long blonde hair. "Fear not, my friends." She held her hands out, palms up to show that she meant no harm. "My intents have never been for ill. I've no other words to say than to thank you for all you've done. Had you not spared me, I know not what fate would have brought."

"Magic creature, indeed!" Myrna gasped, her back to the wall.

James's lips curved up slightly. "Indeed."

"Human as you, but a gift or a curse I cannot say of the rest." At the questions she read on their faces, she added, "I must leave you. I've already stayed too long."

"Where will you go?" James relaxed and took a step forward.

"To find the one you shot. He'll not heal as fast." The creatures of Wynmere had blessed her with more than simple immortality.

"The cat?"

She nodded. "Another such as myself, but whose intentions are foul."

"Two o' you?" Myrna sat down, her eyes wide.

"I must find him and stop him." Gaispar grabbed the latch of the door. "Stay warm, my friends."

"Be careful."

Gaispar opened the door and stepped out into the warmth of the sun. Water dripped from icicles clinging to the eaves. The cold of the snow cooled through her boots.

With a last glance at the peace of the small farm, she threw up her arms into wings. The wind greeted her and carried her on its strong currents. When she glanced down, the couple stood at the door, gazing up at her.

Gaispar let out a screech and climbed higher. Soon the farm was nothing but part of the landscape below.

Now to find the stranger again and to report to Makleor. She'd considered the options during her rest. The only true choice was to follow the stranger and confirm his travel. She had learned no more about him in their encounter than what Makleor had told her.

Recalling the effect of the stranger on the currents of magic, she found the trail and followed where it led.

The direction of that trail led into the mountains.

_______________

# Calli

Calli blinked, her eyes sore from the glare of the bright sun on the white snow. Jayson walked a couple strides ahead, breaking through the packed drifts. Scattered trees barren of leaves dotted the white cliffs of the low peaks around them.

They had traveled countless days since the storm let up, after four days trapped in the inn. Ellead had gone with Lauckney and Dougal, both of whom wished to join Marjan, and they'd had horses.

Not her and Jayson.

Exhaustion drained her from trudging through the snow. Her muscles ached and her head hurt. The drifts blew into hard mounds, which sometimes supported their weight but mostly gave way beneath them, too often trapping them up to their thighs.

She wished for Duke's surefootedness to carry her, and desired his company. The empty place inside her from his loss still haunted her when nothing else occupied her thoughts.

Because of that and the numbing cold, she should have stayed in the protected valley. Exhaustion had come on with a vengeance the last day, but it was more than the snow. Despite her fight against fatigue, Calli sat down on a boulder sticking out of the snow. "I need to rest."

Jayson returned to her. "Again?" He frowned, lines of concern creasing the top part of his face, the only part exposed from the coverings. He pulled off his leather mitten to put his hand to her forehead. "You're on fire."

"I need to sleep." The desire to close her eyes, just for a small nap, overpowered her now that she sat. Keeping her eyes open proved a struggle. Where had her energy gone? Jayson already carried most of the supplies.

"You're in no condition to move, but you must, if you wish to reach your friend. You'll find all the rest you need in Eyr Droc."

"I feel so tired, and cold, a cold from inside as well as out. Can't we wait out winter somewhere nice?" She yawned and slid down the rock into the snow, shivering. "A short nap. That's all I ask."

Jayson scanned the rocky terrain around them. "Not yet. A little ways today, then we can rest."

Calli blinked her eyes open as strong arms pulled her to her feet. Willing her body to cooperate, she placed her feet beneath her. A supportive arm around her helped her regain her footing.

She looked up to the light of hope in his eyes and continued onward. The constant movement kept them warm, but the weather warmed considerably, turning much of the snow into slush and forming rivers of runoff. Mountain snows challenged them, although Jayson appeared to have no problems, despite breaking a path through the snow for her.

How did she continue? The day blurred in her mind. While on their feet, they ate from their supplies what did not require cooking.

He promised to cook a meal at the end of the day.

When the time came, they sat together before the fire he created, keeping each other warm and aided by a rocky overhang protecting their backs from the wind. With a full stomach and the comfort of his support, Calli fell asleep the moment she laid her head back on Jayson.

* * *

The glare of a sun peaking between crags warmed Calli's face, and she opened her eyes. The fire crackled and popped. Still? Had she slept the whole time? What of Jayson?

His arms held their blankets in place around them, yet he managed to keep the fire going. At this point, she would not be surprised to learn that he had used magic, but she doubted it. Jayson took pride in accomplishing tasks with simple work rather than tricks. He told her once that anything worth having was worth achieving through one's own hands, if for simple pride.

Calli laid her head back against his shoulder, listening to his steady breathing.

He let out a heavy sigh. Slept well?

She smiled. "Very."

"One good thing of this illness; you warmed us both through the night."

Calli grimaced at the throbbing of her head and a chill shivering through her. When would the illness leave?

After another minute of sharing their warmth, Jayson left her to prepare a small meal. They ate quickly and rolled up the blankets.

For most of the morning, they set a good pace. The thought of seeing her friend hastened Calli's feet. She longed to share her adventures with the princess and to meet the man, Darius, who protected her. Jayson had told her what he could during their journey, or at least what he knew about Darius and Istaria's destiny.

By midday, the fatigue crept back with a pounding headache.

"Jayson, stop." Calli leaned against a steep incline.

He halted and turned to face her.

"I have to rest. I'm tired and my head hurts."

Jayson rushed to her side. "What is this? I thought you slept enough to go on today."

Calli blinked to clear her vision. "I thought as much too, but I cannot go on without a rest."

"We can be there in two days if we keep going. I cannot heal illness, Calli. You must fight it."

"I can't." As if all her energy drained away, Calli tipped her head forward and closed her eyes. Just a little break.

"Calli."

Cold fingers touched her cheek. She looked up, realizing Jayson held his bare hand to her face. The cold woke her a little. She lifted her covered hand to his, holding his fingers there a while longer.

Jayson muttered words she recognized from their conversations. A flash of something she almost visualized as an inner light ignited inside her. In an instant, more energy filled her than she could remember.

"You used magic."

"Feel better?"

"Much."

He gave a nod and pulled his hand away.

She stood up straight. "Thank you, for whatever you did."

"A small part of myself to keep you strong." Cool fingers caressed her cheeks and his brow furrowed slightly. "If you are of the First Race, common diseases should not affect you. I wish I understood what this was."

"That makes two of us."

Calli stepped forward, refreshed as if she had slept several days in a row. If that was just a fraction of his energy, she knew how he kept such a pace. But what of his warnings about the limits on his abilities—would it not fatigue him?

He never showed it if it did. Jayson unpacked a quick meal, which they ate while traveling. For a change, Calli was able to keep going without a rest, at least until her stomach growled.

When they stopped for another small meal, the fatigue crept over her again, along with aches throughout her body.

They crossed a boulder-strewn pass into a valley before her eyelids grew heavy. The shadows of night stretched from one peak upon the other. She stumbled on a hard mound beneath the snow but kept her feet under her. Jayson's steadying hands caught her shoulders.

"All right?"

Calli grimaced, wishing they were back with the family where she had awakened after the dragon's attack. "I feel awful."

"It's almost dusk. We'll rest here."

Calli nodded her agreement. She could continue for a while but wished to rest more than anything. Dizziness crashed over her. She steadied her feet to keep from falling.

They would not move.

"Jayson?" She looked down.

He followed her eyes.

"Jayson, my feet. I'm stuck." Ice appeared from nowhere, securing her feet to the ground.

Laughter echoed from the mountainside.

Her heart jumped out of her chest at the insidious sound. "Jayson!" Her legs stiffened as the air crystallized around her.

"Calli!"

_______________

# Jayson

Jayson pounded on the clear, faceted encasing. Calli stood frozen in time, trapped in a coffin of crystal.

The laughter focused into one source behind him that set his hair on end. He whirled. "You!"

Lusiradrol's smirk ignited his soul in a rage he barely restrained.

"What do you want?" None of his magic had any effect on the crystal. He would need a greater power than his own. The Light inside him cooled his temper with reason. Releasing the darker side of his being would help no one, least of all Calli.

"So close." The chiding of her voice taunted him. "Too bad she'll never reach Eyr Droc."

She would reach Eyr Droc. He'd be sure of that. If anyone could free her, the dragons could. Jayson clamped his jaw on an outburst. The last time he dared rebuke her, she threw him against a rock. This time he could not risk Calli's life, nor his own. He'd find a way to release Calli, but he needed time, and help.

With casual grace, she strode around him to stand beside Calli. "She lives, mage...for now. The rest depends on you."

Jayson stiffened. He would never abandon Calli nor risk her life and Lusiradrol knew that. She used Calli to get to him. "Set her free."

"Or what?"

Or what was right. What could he say? Lusiradrol would not hesitate to end her life at any time if he disobeyed. He despised her but saw no other choice but to concede to her. "What do you wish of me?"

A malicious smile curved up her face. "There's a good lad. You know what I wish: Bring me the princess."

His heart stopped. Nothing was worth risking Istaria's life, not even to save Calli.

"She will make a nice decoration for Tyrkam's son, or a game for his amusement." Lusiradrol traced her finger along a facet of the crystal.

She could have pricked the dark place he hid deep inside. A trickle of malice flowed through him, pushing him to attack. Not yet. The time would come, but he was not capable of taking her on alone.

Never had he expected such a choice. He refused to allow Calli to be used this way; but, while his emotions demanded that he cooperate for the sake of holding her again, he could not risk their greatest hope to defeat her. He wanted to. Selfish desire battled the reason of knowing that was exactly what Lusiradrol wanted. In spite of his feelings, he could not place Calli as greater than the world, which was what he risked if he handed over the princess.

"Do it yourself."

Lusiradrol shrugged. "Then you'll never see her again. Bring the princess to Wynmere and she will be released. If not—"

A sly smile crept up black-red lips.

If not, you'll see that she suffers or dies, or suffers and dies.

In a swirl of fire, the woman disappeared with Calli. Jayson stood alone in the chill of the mountain pass.

The prospect of losing Calli after finding her once more tore him in two. He would do anything to save her, but he stopped short at the idea of handing the princess over for Lusiradrol to banish the white dragon, their only hope of destroying her.

Damn her! He fell to his knees in the cold snow but found no solace in the tears cooling his cheeks. He had one choice—to reach Eyr Droc and hope that Darius could help him.

Or that the princess had gained enough power to face Lusiradrol.

Once he had her, he would never leave Calli again.

_______________

# Vahrik

Vahrik gazed at the woman encased in the clear crystal whose facets scattered the firelight throughout the room. The figure frozen within was definitely a woman, although the hood of the furred cloak hid the hair. He could not confirm that this was the woman Lusiradrol had promised.

Nor had he expected her frozen in crystal. Rather, he desired to have her as any woman, to make her scream in fear and pain.

Lusiradrol's eyes burned a hole in his skull from where she sat atop the clear block of crystal. "Amused?"

"Not likely. I see nothing to confirm she is who you say."

A shadow crossed her face. Vahrik stepped around the block of crystal to the crackling fire, away from the side where Lusiradrol sat. The fire flared high and subsided.

When he looked ahead of him, he stopped short of running into the woman. Darkness take her!

Menace softened into an amused smirk on black-red lips. "You'll have your toy." She stepped towards him, sliding her black fingernail along his jaw line. Her finger traced the scar she had left on his jaw in one of their previous encounters.

"She cannot escape you, nor can she be freed. They have no choice but to bring the princess. Once I have what I want, she's all yours." She smirked in amusement. "Perhaps you'll have your woodsman too."

The woodsman. Darius. The name burned like acid in his mind. If not for that man, he would not have lost the princess nor taken a beating at the hands of Tyrkam.

"You'll have them soon."

A pleasant tingle rippled down his spine at the thought. The power of the white dragon would be his. Tyrkam would beg for his life.

And he, Vahrik, would have all rights to refuse mercy.

Lusiradrol smiled wryly. "Make ready for visitors within the cycle."

The hearth fire flared to consume her, and Vahrik jumped back. After she vanished, the fireplace crackled and spit as if nothing happened, except the shadow upon his mind lifted.

He returned his gaze to the crystallized woman as images of the princess came to mind. What entertainment he would have with her, with all of them.

_______________

# Marjan

General Marjan gazed out the window of the third-floor room of the fortress overlooking the valley currently clouded in mist. Storm clouds passed overhead without dropping the threatened snow, but they left the air thick with humidity. He held no doubts that the valley's magic protection saved them.

Behind him, the men argued over who should be sent to gather information about the movements of the red dragons.

Of the twelve groups who had left Arronfel since they arrived, only seven had returned. Calli and her group were among the missing. No others dared to leave the comfort and safety of the valley.

He took a deep breath, clamping his jaw on the frustrations boiling up at the table of officers behind him. "A woman dares tread where a seasoned warrior will not?"

The bickering ceased, hanging on his words.

The meat of the animal. None would admit she possessed more courage than any of them, but they knew it in their hearts.

He could not show he knew and erased the satisfaction of his righteousness from his face before turning to them. "No one in this room has the courage o' the lass and her friends. Not one o' you volunteered to join her, nor to set foot outside this haven as our soldiers do. Lesser cowards could not live outside."

Scowls creased war-hardened faces. Muscles tightened on a few, primed for a fight to defend their honor.

"You challenge us?"

Marjan met Kale's cold glare with all the authority granted him. "I challenge you to stand by your honor."

The scruffy blonde with the scattered braids as the only means to control his unruly hair straightened to his full height. His massive bulk intimidated many subordinate soldiers into behaving, lest he use that size against them.

Only Marjan commanded any respect from him, but Kale was not afraid to cross the line.

"You dare—" Kale clenched his fists in preparation to strike. "I'll not take insults from no man, including you."

Kale moved toward Marjan. The fiery temper had gained him respect for his courageous—sometimes unnecessarily dangerous—actions on the battlefield.

Calli possessed the same fire, but she controlled it better.

The hot-tempered Kale took a swing at him.

Marjan dodged and cut in with a fist that made firm contact with the captain's gut. Kale hunched over for a brief instant, not hurt as much as Marjan's knuckles against the tough leather Kale always wore for such an occasion. He rushed Marjan, who had expected the reaction but was slow to avoid it.

Growling, Kale shoved the general backwards into the window ledge. "Y've insulted me for the las' time."

Pinned between the brute and the sharp edge of the window frame cutting into his back, Marjan struggled to free himself. Behind him through the glassless window, a commotion stirred. Shouts erupted from below but no more.

Other arms tangled around them.

"Get off, Kale! If a fight you want then take it where it be of best use."

"Let me go! No one questions my honor."

Marjan breathed easier after they pulled him off. "Prove yourself by fighting those dragons, not me. Or do you wish for an easier target?"

Kale growled and struggled against the multiple arms holding him back. "Tough words from a man who takes orders from a woman."

Marjan straightened his tunic with a calm he knew would grate on the captain's dignity. He refused to acknowledge the insult.

"Not any woman," Lauflan's calm voice corrected.

The voice of reason. Marjan looked past his adversary to the elder warrior.

"How many of us who challenged her found her sword at our throats? A servant of the court, no less. The princess's personal attendant and daughter of Kaillen, renowned warrior."

Lauflan's crooked smile diffused the tension from the room. He shrugged and met Marjan's eyes. "Not a man, but a capable warrior o' greater spirit than any of us."

Kale scowled but relaxed. The men holding him let go. Calli was the daughter of Kaillen, rumored to be the best warrior ever to set foot in Cavatar. She was no less a warrior than any man Marjan had met, and she had proven her worth. The men respected her skills.

Marjan met the warrior's hard gaze with his own. "I suggest you use that energy for fighting the new enemy."

"General."

All heads turned to Quentin, who stood in the doorway. He gripped a scroll of parchment in one hand, his eyes wide. Although his manner would have passed as calm for one such as Kale, Marjan recognized the subtle signs of excitement in the scholar.

"If I may— Milord, a rider has returned."

"Who is it?"

"The cook's son."

His stomach tightened. The old farmer turned cook, Eldred, had sent his eldest son with Calli. If he returned alone, something must have happened to her and the other man. Marjan should never have allowed the lass to go. "Where is he?"

Quentin took a step back into the corridor and looked aside. In a few seconds, the boy entered with Quentin behind.

"General." The fair-haired young man took in the group and faltered. "I...Have I interrupted?"

"Not at all, lad." Marjan glanced at Kale, who stood with crossed arms. "You could not have better timing."

With a look of understanding lifting his brow, Ellead gave a slight nod. "I bring news from the lowlands."

All listened to his story of their travels. They said nothing, especially when he spoke of their encounters with the dragons. They could ask questions later.

"And Jayson—"

"Jayson? The lady's consort?"

One side of Ellead's mouth crooked up in amusement.

What had he said?

"There's the one to concern us," one of the captains stated.

Indeed. He'd had no background but for his association with the lass. "What happened?" Marjan asked.

The boy continued with his story of how Jayson had used magic to slay the dragon. Where had he gone when he left her? More importantly, how had Calli used magic? Was it an effect from living in the valley?

The men stiffened, a few losing their hard-edges to the amazement of the tale. Ellead spoke of the farmhouse and the road to Selton, then the inn.

From the situation at the inn, Marjan understood the boy's amusement in his reference to Jayson. Consort, indeed.

"They took another road but sent me with company into the wilderness."

"Others came with you?"

"Two." Ellead nodded to Quentin, who gave a signal to someone outside the door.

Through the doorway strode two men of grizzly appearance. Their eyes immediately fixed on the general.

The darker haired man with the leaner face pulled back his cloak from the sword at his belt, and Marjan understood. The crest of the Baron of Ellendale shimmered in silver inlay upon the sheath. Marjan noted the pattern of five silver stars on the back of the leather bracers, not the making of the common soldier. These men had served under Hammel. They had defended the palace.

And they had failed.

Marjan waited, his patience cut short by the recognition.

"You know our marks," the other said. "Then I've to say that you'll not like what we have to say."

"We heard—"

"Rumors of soldiers fleeing when the battle turned have circulated since the siege."

Marjan passed a dark scowl to the speaker in warning not to continue. Tempers flared hot enough without regurgitating old regrets and placing blame. They had all lost to Tyrkam's forces.

The dark-haired man clamped his jaw. His fingers grasped his sword hilt. "Mind your ears. We were outnumbered. Had we another regiment—"

Kale unfolded his arms, his face reddening in anger at the challenge in the man's voice.

Marjan stretched an arm into his path to stop his assault. "Tyrkam had not all his army for the siege. Our ranks were cut in half at Bell Field near the banks of the Abbregow River. We cut his forces as much."

He turned around to the captains who answered to him. "Lay aside your blames. We've all lost much. Now is the time to join together, not to fight one another."

"Wise words," the new soldier said. "Hammel spoke well o' yeh, with good reason, as did the one called Jayson."

Marjan perked up at the reference. "Then you saw him."

"On my honor, I swear. The man, Jayson, asked that I tell yeh it was an honor working with yeh." The man shrugged. "Had somewhere else to go with the girl, I gathered."

At least they were together. The two should never have separated.

Marjan glanced aside at the boy, who pursed his lips and nodded confirmation. Ellead would not lie, of that he was certain.

With a deep breath, Marjan exhaled his doubts. For now, he could find out what really happened at the palace. No others of Hammel's forces had found their way to the valley. He guessed they were dead by the hands of Tyrkam's forces or dishonored for such a failure.

"I welcome you to Arronfel, but the others may not share my opinion." Marjan glanced aside at Kale, who still wore an accusing expression as effective as a sword in his hands.

"Tell us your names," another said.

"I am Lauckney," the round-faced man said. He indicated his companion with a look aside. "This is Dougal. We would be honored to serve you, General."

Marjan nodded to Quentin, who waited at the doorway.

"Follow me," the scholar said.

The two men passed cautious gazes about the room before following Quentin out. He knew the routine for new recruits. After recording their stories, he'd assign them sleeping quarters and duties.

Ellead watched until they disappeared before turning back to Marjan. "If y'll not be needin' me, General..."

"Go. Your father is eager."

Ellead smiled and hurried out.

Marjan watched him, his mind full of new ideas. He would speak to the soldiers in private for the truth of what happened. Rumors had circulated that traitors had infiltrated the palace. For that matter—

Kale scoffed. "Can we trust anyone who claims to have fought in that battle?"

Marjan glanced aside at the doubts from his own mind spoken aloud by the captain, who had found a new target for his aggressions, an easier target. Building an army to reclaim Cavatar would take more faith in his men than Marjan imagined.

But at least the Lady Calli was in good hands. He could quit blaming himself for letting her go into danger.

Now was the time to concentrate on the men who explored the deeper corridors of the fortress. The brothers of those who had accompanied Calli had gone together into the dark depths of the mountain to discover the secrets it held.

Part of him wished not to know what secrets may lay dormant in the mountain from which the great fortress was hewn. The other part of him desired to expose any surprises now, but dread hung over him of what may lurk in the recesses of a magical fortress.

_______________

# The Stone of Arromefîrdra

Siannon gazed in wonder down the corridor of the old fortress, his eyes tracing the shadows from the torch in his hand. Kirin walked ahead of him, his eagerness apparent by his difficulty staying focused on any one artifact or aspect of the architecture. Ellead should be here...

He and their father worried that something had happened, what with those dragons let loose. He shuddered to think what he wished not to but which he could not shake.

When Kirin had approached him about exploring the deeper corridors into the mountain, Siannon had jumped at the chance, if only to occupy his mind. Both their brothers had gone with Calli and none had returned.

Since he and Kirin had started out earlier that day, they had sat to two quiet meals and walked quite a ways.

Most of what they saw resembled the rest of the ancient fortress, with rooms and common areas around fountains fed by natural springs. However, the inner chambers lacked the natural lighting of those at the outer walls of the structure. Like in the main fortress, they found broken crystals in sconces along the walls and projecting from ceilings high above, where there would normally be torch racks or oil lamps. Knowing the valley was protected by magic made them wonder what else the original tenants of the valley might have known to use crystalline structures instead.

The halls arched overhead with scattered, small stalactites projecting downward. The same vine decorations common in the occupied areas traced along the walls in shades of gold, red, green, and blue. The wooden doors had long ago decayed, leaving rusty hinges, some with the occasional rotted wood hanging off. A few steel doors hung on stiff, rusted hinges that refused to budge. Rather than fight to enter the rooms, they moved on.

Moisture trickled in rivulets down some of the walls, leaving cracks or climbing stalagmites, or dripped from the short stalactites overhead. Nature sought to reclaim its own.

At yet another cross-corridor, they hesitated.

"Now where?" Siannon's whisper thundered in the silence.

The fair-complexioned Kirin knelt to the floor in the hall from which they had come. The rattle of a stone echoed through all four corridors.

When he stood, he took the torch and pointed to the left. "That way."

Siannon eyed the stone near their feet, making sure it would not move. He had no desire to become lost in the underground corridors. At the retreat of the torchlight, he jogged after the blacksmith. Kirin left markers when they followed other corridors to their ends and returned to try another path. Without the stones, they would be lost.

"Any reason?"

Kirin shrugged, his eyes glinting with discovery like a child in a shop of marvels.

Kirin had been the first to step into Arronfel when he accidentally fell through the magic barrier of the mountainside along the road through the Northern Mountains. Instead of returning, he had followed the path of the valley to discover the ancient five-tiered city of Linfrathâr carved from the mountainside. Calli had quickly solved the magic of the barrier for the rest of them, if only to find Kirin.

Might I have been better off with someone else? If anyone would get them lost, Kirin would. Too late. Siannon prayed for Goddess to guide them back to safety.

Not far from where they turned, the corridor ended in a strange room. Kirin stepped in without hesitation.

Siannon followed and stopped inside.

They entered a chamber of stylized arches with eight narrow columns supporting those arches around a central peak. Around the exterior in seven sections loomed tall paintings of creatures too terrible to imagine. The doorway took up the eighth section.

Siannon walked the perimeter of the room, studying each picture, while Kirin held the torch aloft near the center. Siannon shivered at what he saw painted in each scene.

The images contained fiendish creatures, some of few details but lingering over the skeletons or bloodied bodies of men. One mural bore the impression of the red dragons that were the subject of recent news. He had imagined them almost as they were depicted, based on Taelyn's descriptions. More of the strange designs like vines and leaves from throughout the fortress arched over each image.

He stopped at the last picture and gazed at a doglike creature swinging a double axe through armies of men. It had the snout and ears of a dog, but its body resembled that of a man. A bluish-gray pelt covered its muscular body, and red and white beads decorated the black hair. It wore nothing but a cloth around its loins and a baldric from which hung locks of hair and bones. Like a dog, it walked on the front toes of long feet, but that and the upright ears were the most obvious of the animal similarities in features. It snarled ferociously, baring its fangs at the men it killed. Others like it blurred into the background of hills. Siannon turned away, horrified by the sight of the abomination and glad nothing like that existed in their time.

When he looked to the center of the room, he saw the least fearsome yet most ominous object. The smooth, black stone of no significant shape balanced on a pedestal. No longer than a man's hand from wrist to fingertips, the obsidian sat beneath a layer of dust.

At first glance, he thought it nothing but an ordinary stone. But the longer he examined it, the more something about it chilled his soul until he had to looked away.

"I like none of these." Kirin's hushed voice rang as a shout in the eerie silence.

Siannon nodded. "I'll not sleep well for days." This discovery was worth reporting back to Marjan, if only to return to the safety of the valley.

"What o' the rock?"

Both turned to the stone, so insignificant but curious.

"Not right is that thing. I'll wager whoever made this room intended it to stay undisturbed."

Kirin carried the torch closer. Nothing changed in the stone, but the shadows upon the walls seemed to grow.

Siannon glanced aside at the dog-man, not daring to set his eyes on the shadowy creatures in the other paintings. He shivered at the menace surrounding them and hurried closer to Kirin. "Let's go."

Kirin blew a cloud of dust off the stone before wiping it smooth with his sleeve. The liquid black stone pulled one's gaze as if to draw in the individual to a nothingness from which they would never escape.

"Leave it alone." Something cold wrapped around Siannon's soul and passed, leaving a stain of malevolence.

"It's harmless."

"Did you not feel that chill? I'd not say harmless, not knowing this place uses magic."

Siannon glanced around, certain that at any second the pictures would spring to life. An odd sensation passed through him. Before he could describe it, it was gone. He turned to Kirin, who gazed unblinking into the stone.

"Kirin?"

No response.

"KIRIN!"

Still nothing.

Afraid of what bewitched to his friend, Siannon jumped between him and the stone with his back to it.

With the object blocked from his sight, Kirin blinked. "I could not look away. I saw...visions." He looked around at the paintings, his face pale. "Of something far worse than these creatures. Horrible visions."

Siannon looked around once more at the strange images. Determined to leave the dark room behind, he took his friend's arm and steered him back to the dark corridor. "I think we'd best return to General Marjan. He should know to avoid this area."

* * *

Darkness breathed with the stench of death. It writhed and twisted, conscious only of its primary purpose as it awakened from its slumber. Where was the master? It had been searching when a magic-user cast his spell.

Images returned of a gray beard on a hooded mage, the last image it recalled. It seethed with the fury of defeat by the human.

The same human had banished others of its kind with the help of the white dragon. Revenge! The mage would pay with the souls of men.

But what had awakened it? Something touched it, a thread of thought that shattered the weakening ancient spell. Someone disturbed the magic holding it prisoner.

In the dark it had slept, once dormant beneath an old spell waning in strength, now awake to carry out the purpose set by its creator, the one the humans called the Darklord. With the master, they would awaken the others. The Majera and their creations would not stop them this time.

* * *

Makleor paused, his senses alerted. A wave of power too subtle to identify but not low enough to miss washed through him. It passed over the world like a gentle reprieve. An old and subtle magic he recognized for its chill cast upon the soul.

His tired bones ran cold. He knew that magic.

With the armies filling the hidden valley of Arronfel, they explored their new home. For too long the protected fortress had harbored the ghosts of the past and hidden its secrets.

Now, someone had disturbed the Stone of Arromefîrdra deep within the mountain, where warnings in the Ancient language surrounded images of the terrible beasts created by the Darklord.

But the armies of Cavatar knew not that language, nor the horrors of the last age.

When Tahronen gave birth to the magi by men of the Second Race, the Darklord spawned his own "children". Makleor had created the stones as a means of trapping the vestiges of the Darklord. The stone hidden deep inside the mountain trapped one of them. The Ancients had sealed it on the chance that he might seek the demon. They sought to keep it out of the hands of the evil master.

When he hid within the embryo of one of his dragons, the Darklord lost all of his memories. Lusiradrol still knew nothing of the immense power within her. If she recognized the power of the stone, however, it might arouse those memories as it had once before.

Long ago, she attacked Arronfel for reasons she could not identify and was defeated. The barriers protecting the valley could not keep her out, and the people paid a great price in the lives lost. Those who survived the siege fled. They dared not take the Stone of Arromefîrdra with them for fear of luring Lusiradrol to the islands they now called home.

Makleor sighed and set down the quill on the table by the tome he translated.

Such is the nature of human curiosity, I suppose. They found the stone before we're ready. If she understands— He closed his eyes and shook his head. The world is not ready for such a foe.

With any luck, Lusiradrol was too busy entangling Vahrik in her web of deceit to notice the faint power.

_______________

# Gaispar

After picking up the trail of the stranger again and following him almost in a straight line to the gateway of the Second Realm, Gaispar had changed her course to report to Makleor in Wynmere Castle. He would be interested in what she had discovered. The stranger's purpose she knew not, but his direction revealed much.

Air currents shifted beneath her outstretched wings. Gaispar adjusted without thinking. She preferred the form of a falcon for long travels. When she tired, she could continue onward by gliding.

A dark voice of magic had whispered at the edge of her awareness for a short while since passing around a red lump. Unfortunately, the dark spot grew as the wyvern headed straight for her.

Gaispar dove to a level above the treetops, where the currents of wind blew swiftly, the cold biting through her body. Hopefully the creature would pass without notice. The wyvern was faster, but not as quick to change course. By using the obstacles closer to the land, she could outmaneuver it, although she hoped it picked another target besides her.

No such luck. The red beast closed in fast, its broad wings stretching across the horizon.

When it neared to where she could see its jaws opening, she swerved. A spray of fire tracked her path too late.

Why was it after her? Did it know she was more than any other falcon? How?

Magic, as I tracked the stranger. Are they after all magic-users? The idea chilled her soul. If Lusiradrol had ordered her clan to kill all magic users, then the war against the Red Clan would favor them. How many unsuspecting humans would they kill with that intent? Not all magi knew of their gifts.

The wyvern adjusted its course to stay with her. Losing it would be more difficult than anticipated, and she already tired from her travels with little rest. The dragons had far more energy than any bird or human. She needed help.

Makleor waited in Wynmere, another day's travel at the least. She could not hide from the beast, not if it could track her from far away.

It trailed close behind. She swerved and looped around obstacles to lose it, but the enormous size of the creature kept it going straight through anything in its path. Branches snapped and cracked when it glided down after her. The beast was determined.

She flapped with all her strength to avoid the jaws of the wyvern, but her strength waned quickly. Memories of past travels over the land flashed in rapid succession in her search for a place and form to hide. Nothing came to her.

The jaws snapped shut at her tail. Large teeth grazed her feathers, the putrid breath choking her with death.

She ducked and reversed direction, a momentary ruse that would give her only a few seconds.

The dragon roared and swooped upwards to pursue her. At the pinnacle of its climb, she circled back. She had to reach Makleor with this news, but she could barely stay ahead of this dragon. She needed help.

Wynmere forest! The guardians would protect her. If she could reach the edge of the forest, she would find shelter. To save her life, they had granted her immortality in exchange for serving the dragons. They would not deny her refuge.

With the wyvern behind her a ways but gaining rapidly, she headed to the distant forest.

Though you fly to no effect,

I am here, so come direct.

The melodious voice startled her momentarily but soothed her panic with recognition. Gaispar found the source, its power unmistakable. The panicked flight had stolen her attention from the magic.

The wyvern slowed behind her, granting her some distance.

Gaispar cared not. It would not survive long enough to bother her again.

Sethirngal's enormous green form dove from above. Gaispar climbed on warm currents to avoid the inevitable crash of bodies.

Too large to avoid its attacker, the wyvern maneuvered clumsily. The green dragon clamped its jaws around the red neck. Thrice the size of the red beast, Sethirngal snapped the red neck in his jaws with a terrible crunch before they hit the ground.

The thunder of their crash reached Gaispar high above and she circled to see what happened. The green dragon ripped off the red head and tossed it aside. Sethirngal stepped away from the body burning in a wild release of magic.

Relief washed over her, stealing away the panic of her flight to barely a glide of exhaustion.

With the threat defeated, Gaispar dove down to perch on one of the spines on the back of the green dragon standing out of reach of the magic encasing the red body. Thank you.

I would do no less

for any other in such mess.

It was the red I wished to take,

no matter the victim or its sake.

The green head snaked around, and Gaispar gazed into a large, gentle eye.

What mission had you in mind

when this one your trail did find?

She flapped her wings to settle her balance with the shift of his body. I seek the mage to report news of the stranger, a shapeshifter in Tyrkam's service. He followed a trail directly to the gateway.

A thoughtful sigh rumbled through the dragon's body, escaping in curls of smoke from its nostrils.

A child of Light who serves the dark

must on the soul have borne a mark

that grieves and grows in such a way

that no one knows it to this day.

The head turned back on its victim. A pool of black formed around the stump of the neck and the head. Magic sparked and sizzled about the carcass, the power of the beast let loose without any control but of no harm to Sethirngal.

I fear the stranger has been sent for the princess, Gaispar said. If Tyrkam sent him, it must be.

Agree must I.

The body shifted beneath her. Gaispar fluttered her wings to keep her balance.

Upon my speed you can rely,

that to Eyr Droc I will fly.

Relieved that the dragon would return to protect the princess and the unborn child, Gaispar flapped into the air. Although her wings tired from the trials of escaping the wyvern, she could glide and reserve some strength. Soon she would have to rest, but she hoped to reach her teacher before then.

The loud flapping of the dragon's leathery wings reached her. She climbed higher on air currents shifting with its push to gain flight. Sethirngal ran forward and lifted from the ground.

She returned her attention to her own flight the opposite direction. When Gaispar glanced back, the green dragon faded into the horizon. With such speed, he would reach Eyr Droc in just a few days, but would it be too late?

She dared not think of it but focused on her goal to inform Makleor of the stranger and his threat.

_______________

# Damaera

From an ever-flowing font at the end of the gardens near their living areas, Damaera gazed on what had been her home for a short time. Life returned to what she knew as normal for the Lumathir. The various training groups walked the cleared paths through the snow. Where the remnants of the ancient city had surrounded it with decorative arches and spires, now rock and rubble cast an ominous shadow.

Lying over that rubble was a beast she had never expected to see in her life.

Istaria had told her of dreaming of dragons, but Damaera thought such visions the result of stories told to her. After all she had learned from Tahronen and the Lumathir and Lusiradrol's attack, she believed in the possibility, but she had never expected to see one up close.

Staring at a living dragon chased away any lingering doubts. Its head lay at the edge of the garden nearby. The topaz scales of the winged beast shimmered in the afternoon sun. Smoke swirled out of both nostrils with each breath it exhaled, its sides expanding and shrinking almost too slowly to perceive. Reptilian eyes regarded the activity around it with a calm she never expected from such a terrifying beast.

"You must be excited." Gayleana practically danced beside her.

Excited was the last word she would use to describe her emotions.

"Soon you'll join Istaria."

Gayleana's smile could not penetrate the fear clouding Damaera's heart that smothered any excitement for seeing her daughter.

"And this chance to ride a dragon?" she asked. "Pray tell, you seem eager."

Gayleana beamed. "Few are bestowed with such an honor."

Honor? Damaera restrained a grimace at the thought. And if this 'friendly' dragon decides we serve it best from inside its belly?

The dragon's gentle eyes met hers.

Know that your fears are unsound,

as others travel on us have found.

"What was that?"

"What?"

"That voice."

You only I did intend

to hear the voice of which I send.

The dragon watched her, unmoved, while the gentle voice continued,

The others will not hear

but you will as if with ears.

I am ready for your ride

when you on my back will abide.

Dumbfounded, Damaera stared. "It spoke to me."

"The dragon?" Gayleana's voice lifted with excitement. "What did he say?"

How could her sister show such emotion in the face of the beast? This one's teeth were larger and sharper than the Red Clan's. It had four legs for grabbing its victims instead of two. Worst of all, its length far surpassed any of the Red Clan she had seen through her connection with Tahronen. Even after it helped to dig them out, she found trusting such a predator difficult.

"He's ready to leave," Damaera said.

"As are you."

Both turned at the intrusion of Tahronen's voice. The youthful immortal strode toward them from beneath the arch bearing the likenesses of the Creators.

Tahronen stopped between them. On her shoulder perched a small creature bearing a shape similar to the Red Clan but with smooth green scales and dark, gentle eyes.

"The time is here. No longer can you wait. The birth of the child fast approaches and she needs help."

More dragons. Damaera studied the miniature clinging to Tahronen's robes with its hind claws and wing claws.

"Jaren tells me she longs for the company of other women in these final cycles."

The creature squawked and whistled. When its jaws opened, tiny white teeth lined the mouth. You are her mother?

"What voice is this?"

Tahronen smiled. Before she could open her mouth to answer the question, the voice in Damaera's head returned: All drakin speak, my lady, of a sorts. Many generations ago, when the great mage came to our realm, he taught us the common speech, but we cannot speak as you; only through this mindspeech, as he gifted us with that much magic, so he could—

"Jaren." The firmness in Tahronen's voice halted his explanation. She turned from the drakin to Damaera. "An unnecessary story; one for another time. This time grows short. Frendal will take you—both of you—into Eyr Droc. There you will find Istaria with Darius."

And the drakin, Jaren added with an air of excitement and a flutter of wings.

With more patience than Damaera possessed for such interruptions, Tahronen smiled. "As well as the younger drakes."

Damaera looked from them to the dragon, which watched with a calm interest. They all trusted this creature, as did her daughter, it seemed.

At least she would not have to go alone.

_______________

# Jayson, Shadow, and Istaria

Jayson slid down the steep, snowy slope on his back. This was no time to break his leg. He was close to the gateway now. Its power called to him. He had never been to Eyr Droc, but Master Haiberuk's directions to the Sh'lahmar in their meditations had imprinted in his memories. Haiberuk insured they could find it if circumstances made it necessary, like his.

Unfortunately, it meant whoever followed him would also find it. The same presence of the wolf they had seen before staying in Selton had returned to track he and Calli when they entered the mountains. Jayson could only wonder his purpose.

He wished Haiberuk had joined him, instead of sending him off alone. Perhaps with the immortal's power, he could discern who followed him. And perhaps Lusiradrol could not have trapped Calli so easily.

Or perhaps the immortal could help to calm his emotions for her.

He let out a heavy sigh. Too many possibilities and not enough answers arose.

As he reached the bottom of the slope, a gentle reprieve settled over his mind, calming his frustrations. He had arrived. Magic masked the cave to appear as the shadow of a boulder.

He had his argument prepared to convince Darius to help him.

If not, he would go alone. One way or another, he would rescue Calli. Or fail trying. There's a happy thought. He swatted it aside like a pesky insect.

Calli was strong. She descended from the Ancients. Even if he failed, she would survive.

Giving no second thought to the cave, he dusted the snow off his clothes and walked through the illusion. With plenty of room to spare for the dragons using the cavern, the maw opened up around him.

He followed the flow of magic emanating from the portal somewhere ahead through the black of the inner tunnels.

When he reached the light of the portal entrance, he hesitated at the brink. Magic swirled around an image of green beauty of the world of the Second Realm. In a moment, he would step across the divide. He would leave Calli behind, until he could return with help.

* * *

Hidden by the trees and brush, Shadow watched the Sh'lahmar vanish into the cave. The forces of magic swirled around the man in bright colors, consuming the one who stepped through the gateway. They formed a nexus between this world and the one beyond.

Eyr Droc.

That was this one's destination. It would make his job difficult.

Jayson had traveled with a woman, until Lusiradrol had taken her.

Shadow would smile if he could with a cat's lips. For all he had suffered, fate and Lusiradrol had granted him the bittersweet taste of vengeance, soon to be twice-over. If what he suspected proved true, Jayson would return with aid to free the woman. That meant fewer protectors with the princess, making his job easier. Unless Istaria joined them, which he doubted, since the dragons would not allow harm to come of their chosen one whose spirit was locked to hers. Lusiradrol knew what she was doing.

He had only to wait and let his wound heal. Although since removing the arrow, the flesh had healed on the outside, the inside remained. The pain grew less each day.

Too bad the hunter had not shot the wolf. From a distance, Shadow had watched the man hoist her over his shoulder and carry her away.

Her presence never reappeared. Had she returned to the mage or died of the wounds he inflicted? Or did she seek the dragons from the Second Realm now crossed into the First?

Only one possibility gnawed at his mind—she would return before he could complete his mission. If that happened, she could ruin any cover story he created to gain the trust of the one he hoped to take back to Tyrkam.

He could only hope time sided with him.

Until he could make his move, Shadow would wait.

* * *

The drakin circled overhead, chirping and squawking at each other in their games. The blossoms of spring in the Second Realm scented the air, carried on the breeze that blew long white strands of hair across Istaria's face. The cool of the grass tickled her bare feet.

A swift jab to her ribs made her cringe and put her hand to her belly. She pressed her palm against a tiny limb stretching her already tight skin further than it wanted to go.

Had I power over nature, you'd be out already and in my arms. For now, you are safest there. Where the darkness could not touch him.

Rowen grazed next to her, fattened on plentiful grass with little work. Darius used the gelding on occasion, but he no longer needed the horse for hauling trees or wagons of chopped wood.

Now, Darius cut wood for their fires, but mostly he trained. Woodcutting was more of an exercise for his body now than a means to support himself, a complement to his magic and mental skills. Somewhere alone in the woods, he practiced the ways drilled into him for more than sixty years.

She never would have guessed Darius's true age. As he had explained, the connection to the Light determined one's aging rate, since they were descendants of the immortal Majera. Darius appeared about a third of his age. When she first saw him without the beard, she thought him barely older than Phelan.

Perhaps that was why, while her father had grayed beyond his years, her mother's youth and beauty never waned. Her mother had been a sister of the Lumathir, now returned to train in the skills she would need to survive the new struggle overtaking their world. Like her mother and Darius, she would be slow to age as well.

Istaria stroked away another prod against her belly, so new in form yet so old in spirit, like his father.

During her time in Eyr Droc, she had learned more than she ever thought possible. Her world had changed in almost a year to nothing she would have expected.

Had it been so long since the attack on her carriage?

"My lady."

Istaria whirled at the voice.

Jayson? She blinked. What was he doing there? She had not noticed his presence in the magic. I thought you had other duties.

"'Had', my lady, is as good a word as any."

Stroking Rowen's lowered neck, Istaria frowned, until she recalled what Gaispar told her. The Red Clan?

He nodded and shifted the heavy cloak in his arms. "Asleep, they kept my lips sealed, but Lusiradrol broke that seal."

As I was aware. What have you now? When another thought struck, she put her hand to her belly. You've not come for Darius to help you fight them.

His cheek muscles flexed with the clamping of his jaw. When he spoke, his words came with hesitation. "Not...as...such."

Liar. She held the thought private.

His eyes dropped briefly to her protruding belly before meeting her gaze again. "I need to speak with him on certain matters."

When Rowen moved off, Istaria watched him go, wishing she could ignore the troubles around her. Jayson's words bothered her. Something inside her rang with a warning she wished not to hear. The Sh'lahmar could hold secrets to their graves. Jayson didn't hint of any secret, but that meant not that he had one.

"If you could tell me, my lady, I'd be most honored."

Istaria turned back to him with a sigh. If you must, he's in the woods practicing the ways—your ways.

The ways of magic counted for only a part of the Sh'lahmar training. She likely knew more about the elite guards than either Darius or Jayson from the tomes she read, more than she wished to know.

Jayson smiled and bowed his head. "Once again, we meet, but this time under circumstances better than the first."

The first had been during her escape with Darius to this, the Second Realm, when Lusiradrol had attacked. Without him, she would have died there with Darius. Jayson had tipped the balance of power in their favor. She supposed she owed him her gratitude, despite her suspicions now of why he would seek Darius.

Without what she expected of his typical courtly manners, he rushed off.

The baby flipped inside her, stealing her attention for a moment. Not even the promise of new life could shake the shadow crossing her emotions. Something of Jayson's hidden purpose bothered her.

What is it?

The baby kicked again as if to assert itself.

She rubbed the place where its limb pounded against her and smiled. Shall we see?

A hard jab to her ribs responded.

I agree. With a grimace from the discomfort of the child's movements, Istaria followed Jayson to where she knew Darius would be.

* * *

Darius's shoulders slumped in what could only be interpreted as exasperation. "Why not ask the others for help? I am one man, and one who is needed here."

Jayson looked out on the rolling green hills and the grass swaying in the warm, gentle breeze. In his mind he saw the mounds of red scales moving within the cavern, tasted the stench of rotted corpses filtered through his nose into his mouth. "You are the last of this realm." Those had been Haiberuk's words. If Jayson had trusted the master, things would be different. "The others are gone, my friend. We are all that remain."

Darius straightened, studying his face. "Gone? Not all of them."

Jayson nodded confirmation. "Every one. I know not why I was spared, but while I lay unconscious in the vault, the others vanished. Only Master Haiberuk remained, to heal my wounds. Afterwards, he vanished from my sight."

Darius looked away as if searching the horizon for answers.

In the silent void of thought, birds twittered in the treetops above. The distant screech of a dragon carried on the fresh air.

The magic of that realm encompassed them. Jayson let it flow through him as he had all magic after the purification ritual upon his return to the Sh'lahmar. More than anything, he needed the calm now that Haiberuk had given to him then. His emotions tangled with his sense of duty. In the peace of the Second Realm, they unwound, freeing his mind to think.

"You feel it too." Darius wore a face of contentment. He understood, but he should after living there for many moon cycles. One need not stay long to notice it.

"The land is alive," Jayson confirmed.

"The corruption of the Darklord has not touched this realm." Darius let out a deep breath. "The pain one carries washes away here."

"Not all pain can be cleansed from the soul." The idea of losing Calli stabbed his emotions. He would not leave her. After losing their brothers in magic, she was all that mattered now, and he would do all he could to save her. "If you cannot help, I'll go alone."

Darius eyed him with suspicion. "She's important to you in more ways than you admit."

"Yes. But I suppose I should know better than to pretend otherwise to you." He could not hide those emotions from Darius.

With a slight grin of understanding, Darius said, "That's all I need to hear. Some things are more valuable than all the riches in the world."

You'll not go alone!

Jayson cringed at the severity of the voice and turned with Darius to the source. With the bulk of her belly leading her, Istaria waddled across a grassy clearing towards them.

Jayson caught the hint of a grimace on Darius's face. Neither one of them was getting out of this without a scolding. Now he understood Darius's hard expression; the stern look on the face of the woman in flowing blue velvet made him grimace.

"My lady."

Do not patronize me. Her jaw hardened when she turned to him, and Jayson winced. I knew you brought trouble, and I heard everything. Calli was my best friend before all this. That she left to rescue me, I can never repay, but I'll not leave her to suffer. If Lusiradrol wants me, then she shall have me. I've enough control of the power now—

"Absolutely not!"

Jayson and Istaria both jumped at the thunder of Darius's rebuttal. A moment later, his face softened on her and he placed a hand to her belly. "You're too close to the end. If anything happened to you—either of you—"

Jayson stepped aside, giving them some room to discuss the matter.

Istaria smiled and placed her hand over Darius's. I appreciate your concern. She looked over to Jayson. Both of you. But I am not as helpless as I look. Uncomfortable, I'll admit, but much stronger after the training.

Darius shook his head. "You must stay here. The safety of the child involves more than any of us. We can rescue Calli. With the dragons, Tyrkam will pose no challenge."

I fear not Tyrkam, she insisted. He is no threat to me or Calli.

"Lusiradrol is, my lady," Jayson quietly said. "I cannot let you leave this realm, not for any of our lives. The child you bear is what she'll destroy at all costs. You're the reason she took Calli."

Istaria's fair complexion paled. She put both hands to her belly.

Darius took her in his arms. "You would never forgive yourself if anything happened to the baby."

Gazing down at her swollen middle, Istaria relinquished her previous confidence to his embrace and sighed. When you say it that way, I have no choice...but I wish I could help Calli.

"Leave it to us." Darius peered back at Jayson, a knowing grin clinging to the corner of his mouth. "Calli could have no one better caring for her."

A hard lump formed in Jayson's throat at the sight of them together. Never in all his years had he experienced the regrets and desires of the heart until Calli. Now, she guided his world.

After a few minutes with Darius, Istaria lifted her head and looked beyond him to Jayson. Her smile chased the sorrow from his mood. Thank you.

Jayson acknowledged her with a nod and turned away to give them space. She knew Darius risked his life but was willing to let him go. Jayson hoped for the best, but in facing Lusiradrol, there were no guarantees, even with magic at their disposal.

_______________

# Dorjan

The horses trod with difficulty over the melting snow, slipping down a steep hillside. A few nearly sat on their haunches, but they all survived without injury.

The journey was perilous, but the weather had been favorable. The streams ran full from all the snow melting since the storm. Around the bases of the trees, spears of green peeked out from the previous year's growth. Soon, new growth would replace it and the land would become a green carpet once more.

Dorjan observed all the signs of winter's imminent end, including the lengthening, warmer days. Once the sowing season returned, so would the season for war. Tyrkam would find himself hard-pressed to expand his power without a year or two to resupply his forces with food and weapons, as well as fresh recruits. He could not continue at the pace he had set the last few years.

But it was not his true concern.

The familiar landscape told him they were close to Setheadroc.

They reached the city and rode through the gates and down the streets to the palace. At the closed gates of the palace towering up to the gatehouses on either side high above, they pulled up their mounts.

"Hail!" one of the soldiers in his group called to the guards in the gate towers.

"Who dares pass?"

With a scowl at the self-righteous authority of the guards, Dorjan lifted his face. "Open the damned gates! I've wasted enough time in coming."

"Who dares such assumptions!"

Another soldier whispered in the guard's ear. The guard paused before shouting to open the gates for the men.

Cursing under his breath, Dorjan dug his heels into his mount's sides before the portcullis ceased its grinding climb. As he passed beneath, he ducked clear of the sharp ends.

Like water flowing away, an aisle cleared through the people in the courtyard of the palace before his path to the portico of the Grand Hall. Hooves clattered to a stop on the wet stones, and he swung out of the saddle to rush to the doors.

Dorjan's heavy steps echoed in the high-ceilinged hall. A quick scan showed no Tyrkam amid the sparse crowds, but he knew of a couple places where he might find the overlord.

The servants and soldiers in the hall silenced as he and his group crossed. At the bottom of the stairs to the second floor, he excused the soldiers and hurried on alone.

They had ridden hard from Wynmere, exchanging mounts where they could to keep fresh horses beneath them. Consequently, they had reached the palace in much less time than expected, but it was still plenty of time for Vahrik to seal up the old castle from attack. The boy no doubt used what he had to fortify the castle.

A sly smile curved up hairy cheeks. Vahrik would be foolish enough to seal himself inside with all of his followers. He had no mind for planning and would in effect bring his own downfall in a siege. But if the boy had the chance to expand, Tyrkam might miss the opportunity to take him and his followers in one small area.

Dorjan asked a servant where to find Tyrkam and strode through the eerily quiet corridor to an obscure door he had entered once before. The creak of ill-kept hinges echoed through the corridor and musty air wafted from within.

He stepped into the old records room, and Tyrkam looked up from behind a stack of large books at a small table before a roaring fire. A moment of surprise passed over his face before a frown hardened. "What happened?"

Dorjan closed the door behind him.

"I nearly lost my limbs to that fool and his 'elite' guards." He scoffed and took the chair opposite Tyrkam. If those guards were considered elite, he, Dorjan, should be considered a god.

Tyrkam slammed the tome shut with the force of his short temper.

Dorjan never flinched. "He's a pact with that devil woman."

"Lusiradrol?" Tyrkam stood and approached the fire. "What is she playing now?" he mumbled.

While Tyrkam contemplated the situation, Dorjan glanced down at the books. The one Tyrkam had been reading bore a dragon on the cover circled by—

Dorjan leaned forward, uncertain if what he saw was right. ["He who was and will return in the time of greatest need."] He silently read the words of his native tongue etched in the leather cover. Tyrkam knew nothing of the organic style writing, of that he was certain. What did he study in the tome if he could not read the language on the cover?

Feigning ignorance, Dorjan shrugged and sat back.

Tyrkam stopped before him and leaned over the stack of books. "You've no hint of her plans with him?"

"Neither have I confirmation. Only suspicions. When the dragon climbed the keep and set fire to the forest, it posed no more threat, but left the rest intact."

Tyrkam clamped his jaw shut and mumbled, "Dragons on the keep?" He looked up. "Did the forest burn?"

"For a few seconds only. The fire extinguished by the power of the guardians."

"They would not allow it. I might have told it not to bother, but Lusiradrol had to try." Tyrkam met Dorjan's eyes with a stern gaze. "You should have sent word sooner."

"That no messenger arrived here means he failed."

Dorjan sat back in his chair, the tome still on his mind. Given the chance, he would open its pages alone to read. Never mind Tyrkam or Vahrik. They were nothing compared to the greater powers at work in the world now. Muriel had been correct in her observations.

Now was not the time to think about it, lest he arouse Tyrkam's suspicions. Rather, he reported what he knew of Vahrik's activities.

* * *

After spending the transition of night in the library, Dorjan fought to keep his eyes open. The long journey combined with the extensive report to Tyrkam exhausted him. The beds in the palace would be a great relief to his weariness.

He closed the door of the library behind him and walked through the quiet corridors to the room Tyrkam had prepared for him.

Here, he could sleep in peace, a welcome change from the constant vigil required while in Wynmere with Vahrik in charge. He could concentrate on more important matters.

Through the shadows of the corridor echoed a familiar sound. The steady tap of wood on stone surprised him. How had the old mage traveled the distance so fast? Had he imagined him back in the castle?

When the robed figure entered the light of the flickering candles, Dorjan stopped. The only way he could make the distance in short time was to ride as they had or create a portal with magic. A very old, very powerful magic. Makleor was more than he revealed, if that was true. Could this be the one he had been warned about, the traitor who had killed the white dragon and was cursed by the spirit to wander the world until completing his penance?

"A stranger, dear," the old man mumbled. Something moved on his shoulder. "Faster than I expected he came. Hmm...Yes, must remember that."

The old man hobbled to within a few steps of him. The nose of the black and white rat on his shoulder twitched in the air.

Makleor turned his head to the rat and smiled. "This one I helped. Vahrik—" The old mage snorted in derision. "Pompous fool!" Makleor paused, his head tilted as if listening to the rat.

"You think that wise? I'd not. You know not his heritage. Another purpose he has not revealed." A blue eye glittered in the flickering candlelight, the other hidden beneath his hood.

Frowning, Dorjan crossed his arms and watched the old man hobble past him. His mutterings blurred down the corridor until they disappeared around a corner. Perhaps the old mage was insane, but at the same time he was still very powerful.

Dorjan shuddered to think of great power in the hands of a madman. At least Tyrkam was sane enough to be cunning and predictable.

What did the old man mean by another purpose not yet revealed? Did he mean Vahrik? Or someone else?

Dorjan tensed. Did Makleor know of him? Was he the object of the statement? If anyone was aware of his true purpose, it could only be someone who knew of the First Race. For the mage to say such things about him indicated the sharp cunning of one of great control and knowledge.

Or one who had lived many years. Perhaps the mage of the old stories had not faded from existence but had changed his identity. If he was the same, Makleor—Mallenor as he was called in the old tales—deserved his punishment.

Dorjan would keep a close eye on the mage.

The other on Tyrkam.

_______________

# Jayson

The drakin played their games beyond the trees surrounding Jayson in the clearing. Past the river flowing between the hillside where he stood and the next, the cattle and deer herds grazed. Calves chased the small reptiles gathered among the short brush to eat berries, sending up a flurry of leathery wings.

Calli would love the peace of Eyr Droc.

Jayson shook away the distraction. They either had to break the crystal block or carry it. He doubted they would have time to try to break the magic once inside. That meant carrying her.

Back to the same old argument of how they would carry her. If he could not break the spell before trouble arrived, they'd have to bring Calli to safety to work on freeing her. For that to happen, they needed to transport her to Eyr Droc. He could think of no easy way to make that happen.

Frustration boiled over inside him. Jayson swung his leg back and let loose a good kick at a rock, sending it flying into the trees. Damn you, Lusiradrol! I cannot even curse your name more than it is.

"That's one rock that will never dare to insult you."

Darius could take his jests and stick them elsewhere.

With no trace of amusement in his mood, Jayson looked down at the couple sitting in the shade of the tree around which he paced. While the smile on Darius's face cooled his temper, the hand on Istaria's belly made him look away. He could not think of that now. Each day they delayed put Calli at greater risk.

"What choices have we not considered?" Darius asked.

Before any answer came, a green dragon appeared with wings spread out far from the body.

The soaring serpentine figure of green glided into the meadow and landed with only a light vibration through the ground. Once settled, it folded its wings at its sides.

Jayson blinked, unable to believe his eyes. They grew that large?

With Darius's help, Istaria climbed to her feet and ran at a waddling pace for the dragon. It lowered its head to the ground as gentle as a pup. Without hesitation, she laid her head against the spiked crest at the back of his head, which alone dwarfed her in its immensity. The dragon's gentle ways proved it had many years of exposure to human frailty.

Darius stood next to Jayson. "Sethirngal, her primary teacher."

Jayson nodded, understanding now the reason for her enthusiasm.

Istaria stepped away, and Sethirngal lifted his head to fix his eyes on them.

Now two have we

before me I see.

The genuine surprise in the voice made Jayson smile. Such a large dragon must have lived long enough to know few surprises, and at that size, Sethirngal had lived a long life. True dragons never stopped growing, but growth slowed as they aged.

In his creation of the Red Clan, the Darklord had stunted their growth when he sped up their development. Just as well, since they made up in ferocity what they lacked in size. Bigger meant they needed more to eat to satisfy their bellies, not exactly beneficial to anyone.

Jayson shook away the thoughts and gave Sethirngal a bow of respect. "I am humbled before you." He could almost see a smile on the dragon's face.

A silver-tongued stranger you are,

but could be no other than Sh'lahmar.

What was cannot again be,

but more than a trace in you I see.

'More than a trace'? He dared not ask what "more" the dragon saw in him, for fear of a roundabout answer that would only lead to madness should he ever solve the riddle. The riddles of the dragons were well-versed in legends, but the couple of younger firedrakes he'd met in his time in Eyr Droc spoke in much simpler terms.

A deep sigh rumbled from the depths of the serpentine body and the giant eye rotated to Istaria.

Lady of our noble heir,

I have come with news to share.

There lies outside the hidden gates,

a man of ill to others' fates.

Another outside the portal? Of course! So occupied had he been that Jayson had forgotten about the presence that had passed him and Calli into the mountain. It had to be the same. "I believe I was followed by a shapeshifter."

"A shapeshifter?"

"Yes, but not Gaispar."

Darius frowned, his eyes lost in distant thoughts. After a few seconds, he blinked and refocused on Istaria. "Perhaps I should stay."

Her expression hardened. I will be safe. Shapeshifters have no other magic. They cannot harm me.

Darius gazed into her eyes, his jaw tightening in uncertainty.

Something inside Jayson negated her words, something he remembered or that wanted him to remember from the past. Haiberuk had told him and the other Son'tal of one in their ranks both shapeshifter and mage, one who later left the order. Could it be the same who had followed him?

He hoped not, or Istaria might have trouble. Now, if he could remember who that former Sh'lahmar was, he might help.

Of Tyrkam's purpose she supposed

that he might have the one opposed,

to gain himself her power borne

and leave us all to weep and mourn.

Jayson said nothing but watched Darius, whose face played a battle of indecision. While he sympathized with his desire to protect Istaria, Jayson felt the same for Calli.

Istaria put a hand to Darius's cheek and smiled with the warmth of the sun. I'll fare well with the dragons here. Bring her back to me. I owe her that much.

Darius took her hands in his. "I cannot change your mind?"

The look on her face rebuked him.

"Then I'd do well not to argue."

After an awkward moment waiting for them, Jayson cleared his throat. "Now we return to our problem. How do we bring her...back to..."

His eyes lifting to the green answer before him. Why had he not thought of it sooner? All these dragons with their magic and strength and it never occurred to him to ask their help. He really had been distracted.

"With respects," he said to Sethirngal, "what plans had you forthcoming?"

The dragon blinked and shifted its head to peer at him with both eyes.

A wandering mind has found its cause.

You've moved forward from journey's pause.

A smirk stuck to Jayson's face. "What is your answer?"

The large reptilian eyes looked to Istaria and back.

You, whose purpose I know not,

for her sake form this plot.

Of noble deed or purest sake,

I will a promise to you make

to give you aid in air or ground

against dark forces all around.

"Thank you," Jayson said.

"We have a means but still are no better. How will he reach us once we've located her?" Darius indicated the dragon with a motion of his head.

Jayson paused, visualizing the situation and the possibilities. Every turn ended in futility, until he could see only one way. "He'll have to break it down."

The castle?

Darius nodded in response to Istaria's question. "He's right. If Calli is as Jayson told, then we two cannot alone carry her. The only way a dragon could reach her is if he destroys the part of the castle where she's held."

Plans you've made for some rescue

and will to me explain them too?

Sethirngal blew curls of smoke out his nostrils, while watching the humans with keen interest gleaming in his eyes.

Jayson and Darius told him about their plans to find Calli and rescue her from Wynmere, while Sethirngal listened with occasional long rumbles.

They could find her without being detected by going invisible. The dragons had used invisibility in the First Realm to travel undetected by mortals for generations while awaiting the resurrection of the white dragon. Except for shapeshifters, who could take other forms to avoid being seen, all creatures of magic could use invisibility with the same ease as mindspeech.

Now that they had the dragon, they could make quick the task and return in plenty of time before the birth of the child. Even Istaria encouraged Darius with those favorable odds.

Sethirngal agreed to fight his way to them once they located Calli. That meant he would have to leave them a distance from the castle, if they wished not to attract attention and save their strength for the hardest task.

When they finished their plans, Jayson left Darius with Istaria and the dragon. He needed distance. Time with them wore on his emotions. And, until Calli was safe, he would not rest.

One question came to the forefront as he made preparations to leave—what of Lusiradrol?

_______________

# Damaera

Damaera stepped carefully down Frendal's topaz scales and landed in the snow next to Gayleana. Together, they stood in cold snow nearly over their fur-lined leather boots, something she never would have had to worry about as queen. She wouldn't have expected Tahronen of all individuals to provide them either, but all creatures served the needs of others, she had explained.

She shivered and pulled her coat tight around her and inhaled deeply the crisp air, regaining her senses from the long flight through the mountains. Those magnificent spires of nature towered high around them, barricading them from the outside world. In the low point where they stood, the air was thicker but just as biting as higher above.

Frendal had stayed low, weaving around the ridges reaching for the sky, but even his internal fire had done little to warm them. He'd promised they would find suitable comfort in Eyr Droc.

Damaera searched the cliffsides around them, anxious to find the warmth promised. "Where is this gateway? I see nothing but rock."

Hidden from your sight is the cave

through which we travel and to men gave.

Frendal's steps crunched and thundered towards a shadow of a rock.

Damaera frowned, wondering if the dragon would brush the boulder aside to reveal it. Instead of stopping or crashing through the mountain, he seemed to pass through solid rock. At one time, she would have thought it impossible. Now, she thought nothing of it.

Frendal's thunderous steps halted inside and left them in the peace of the small valley and an overwhelming silence in which the soft crunch of steps in the snow rose behind her.

Damaera turned and caught movement in the trees along a ridge behind them. A feline shape disappeared into the shadows.

"What is it?" Gayleana asked.

"Nothing. Shadows." She shuddered at what she might have seen but not. Something brushed at the fringes of her awareness through the magic. She looked back, certain that a presence twisted the forces where she thought something watched them. Shivering, she hurried after Gayleana.

After the white of outside, the dark of the cavern blinded her. She bumped into her sister. "Pardon me."

"No need." Gayleana's presence moved away.

Damaera followed. As her eyes adjusted, she made out the dark outlines of her sister a step ahead and the dragon leading, its steps echoing throughout the cave.

Before she saw the portal, she felt it. Magic swirled in bright colors felt rather than seen with her eyes, inviting her forward to a faint glimmer of light around a bend.

They rounded a bend of the cavern, and, like a slice through a large version of an orb of seeing, the gateway revealed life in a warm, green world beyond. Damaera longed to feel the sun on her face again and gladly followed the dragon into the Second Realm.

On the other side, the warmth of spring stole away her chill. She pulled off her hood and mittens and turned her face to the glow of a late day sun. It melted away the chill from their flight. After a last shiver, she unfastened her coat and pulled it off to soak up the heat.

"So beautiful!"

The wonder in Gayleana's voice brought a smile to Damaera. She could have said it no better.

Frendal let out a booming roar.

Damaera's heart jumped from her chest, and she nearly dropped her coat. Replying calls carried back. One rose loud and clear from over the hill ahead.

In seconds, a long green head crested in spikes appeared over the hill. The dragon's body followed with two men beside it, although they could pass beneath the moving green mound without ducking. They emerged from over the hill and slowed their steps.

She recognized both from Tahronen's orb. These were the ones Tahronen had called the Sh'lahmar, the men who protected the girls she considered daughters.

The overwhelming gratitude in her heart sent her to meet them. All courtly manners evaporated in the moment of overwhelming joy. Before they could speak, she stretched up to kiss Darius's smooth cheek. "That's for loving Istaria."

She moved aside and repeated her greeting to the one called Jayson. "That's for helping Calli."

Both men looked to one another in question.

Before tears threatened, she backed away. Her eyes burned, but she wiped them dry and swallowed the lump in her throat. "I could not ask for better company for them."

"My lady?"

Straightening her poise, Damaera fixed her eyes on the one called Jayson. She might have preferred Calli and Phelan at one time together, but since learning of the ancient legends and their reawakening, she had accepted that Jayson could better protect Calli. Phelan had the potential but knew nothing.

She could only hope Phelan was alive. Tahronen had shown him to her more than a moon cycle earlier, when he was in the care of the Caveshi, the plains people of Rivonia. She had seen nothing since then, but wished for his survival. Having him returned to her safely was all she could ask.

"Forgive my ignorance," Jayson said with a slight bow. "Although we know your station by your robes, we know not your names. Who have we the honor of...such a generous greeting?"

Gayleana stepped forward and lifted her chin with a pride that surprised Damaera. "I am Gayleana, fourth level priestess of the Lumathir. This—" She turned her head to Damaera a moment before looking back at them. "This is the Lady Damaera Isolder of Cavatar."

Surprise washed away the puzzlement on their faces, replaced a second later by smiles of recognition that soothed the tension.

Mother?

The voice stole their eyes from the men. The appearance of a head of silvery white hair choked her on instant tears. The white cascade flowed loose over shoulders and a belly of impending childbirth. Istaria no longer wore her veil to cover her face. Tahronen had said Istaria had learned to control the forces that made her eyes glow on occasion. The veil had hidden such outbursts in the days since she was found in the caverns beneath the orchard as a child. Among the dragons she was accepted and honored.

Istaria rushed forward, one hand supporting her protruding belly.

Damaera gazed on the woman before her so different from the child she remembered. Words escaped her jumbled thoughts. Nearly a year had passed since she last saw her daughter, a year of agony and death. In all that time, she had longed to see her youngest child again.

Shedding the poise and dignity of her status, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around her little girl. Tears streamed down her cheeks in torrents.

"Istaria." Finally, after all that time, she had part of her family back.

Mother. Istaria held onto her, sniffing. They embraced for a lifetime of memories to pass through Damaera, until the moment caught up and they stood back, facing reality.

Damaera wiped her eyes and caught the motion of Istaria's hand over her bulging middle, her expectant grandchild. Reality slowly sunk into her mind. This would be her grandchild. She was going to be a grandmother. Grandmother...

She looked up to a smile on Istaria's face.

Here. Istaria grabbed Damaera's hand and put it to the side of her belly. She held her palm in the same place for several seconds before a well-aimed jab bumped her hand.

In that moment, Damaera flashed back to when she carried the child before her. She nearly choked on the memories. "Has it been so long?"

"Excuse us, ladies." Jayson's voice broke the spell between them.

Darius leaned close and kissed Istaria's cheek. "I'll see you again soon."

The men passed them with the dragon and disappeared through the portal.

I'll explain everything. Istaria hooked her arm in Damaera's and led her over the hill.

_______________

# Shadow

The sun dipped behind the mountain peaks, and Shadow grew restless. Worse than the man was the arrival of the women. Based on their presences in the magic, they must have been Lumathir. That meant Tahronen had sent them.

Tahronen, sister to Haiberuk.

His fur ruffled in his agitation.

One of the women had noticed him or at least looked his way. He had been eating a quick meal when the dragon arrived, and he couldn't hide in time to avoid being seen. Did the woman know he was more than a normal mountain cat? The dragon must have noticed, but he hadn't reacted.

Either they thought him no threat or didn't fear what he could do.

The frustration gnawed at him while waiting for some of the people to leave. The hunting had given him an outlet, and tearing the flesh of the animal relieved him, but he needed action.

They had to come out soon if they intended to rescue the one called Calli, the one Lusiradrol held prisoner. The look on Jayson's face had said it all—he would not give her up to Lusiradrol or anyone.

Shadow remembered him after seeing him closer. He was one of Haiberuk's council. He had indeed been trained as Son'tal, as Shadow suspected.

Magic stirred from the cavern. The surge of power told him a dragon emerged, its presence almost shielding the others with him.

Shadow crouched down behind the rocks and brush. The men he despised more than any others emerged with the green dragon and climbed onto its back.

As the giant dragon stretched its wings, a small green creature darted into view. It stirred the forces of magic little more than any ordinary creature. Almost as an afterthought, it circled around the dragon and landed on one of the spines along its back.

Shadow studied it in fascination. It squawked like a bird at the men but mostly it sat in silence, its gaze fixed on them. By the attentive expressions on the faces of the men, the creature must have spoken in mindspeech to them.

He could use that to hide among such creatures and mask his presence.

After a couple minutes, the dragon let out a rumbling sigh and shifted in readiness for flight. The small creature bent over, grasping another spine with its wings to stay balanced or, rather, with tiny claws on its wings.

Shadow waited for the dragon and men to leave with the smaller creature close behind. Once they vanished over the nearest peak, he concentrated on the shape of the small creature and the presence he'd detected in the magic surrounding it, that presence that allowed him to transform into a perfect copy. In seconds, he perched on the ridge. The cold bit at his bare, leathery skin.

To escape the cold and continue his mission, he glided into the cavern.

_______________

# Makleor

Makleor turned to Gaispar resting on his shoulder, his ears on the conversation between Tyrkam and Dorjan. They knew not that he hid in the room, invisible in the shadows. Soon we can all rest, my dear. Before that day comes, much will be asked of you, of all of us.

"Vahrik is hasty and foolish." Tyrkam balled the fingers of his right hand into a fist before him, his back to the crackling fire and his scowl on the grizzly, red-haired warrior who sat in a chair at the table. "But Lusiradrol is no one's fool." He ground out the words

"These beasts of hers complicate matters," Dorjan said.

Tyrkam fixed a cold glare on his lieutenant. "She plays all sides. I play her game for games of my own. I will not play for Vahrik."

Makleor smiled. Of foulest plans she has for all that you've some understanding now. Tyrkam would not fall to her trap, or he intended not to, which meant he had learned from his previous dealings with her. Impressive. Perhaps he was not as foolish as expected.

Dorjan rubbed the stubble on his chin, his eyes on the fire. "When do you wish to move against him?"

Tyrkam unclenched his fist and leaned over the mantle of the fireplace. "Too soon he'll expect. Too late he'll have time to make other plans."

Gaispar stirred from her slumber, shifting on his shoulder. Since collapsing on the stack of books in his tower in Wynmere Castle, she'd slept much of the time there and through the portal which he'd used to bring her to Setheadroc.

Welcome back. Tiny claws pricked through Makleor's robes as she shifted her position. You've not missed much.

Not with these two. We know already Lusiradrol works both sides against one another. Has Tyrkam revealed a purpose?

Makleor shook his head. He's not told his lieutenant of the shapeshifter. A man of secrets, I know, not of the least considerations of his head; nor is he blind.

"...No more than two cycles. By then I'll have a full regiment ready to retake any territory he claims."

Dorjan nodded agreement. "Norwell?"

"He'll leave no one alive."

Makleor remembered the name, but the face of the captain escaped his memory. No matter. In less than two cycles, if his calculations were correct based on Gaispar's description, Istaria would hold her child.

"What of the lost heir?" Dorjan asked.

"Farolkavin has had enough time." Tyrkam gnashed his teeth on the words with a ferocity surprising Makleor. The hate in the man's eyes implied more than he let on.

A sly smile crept to Makleor's lips. He had first met Tyrkam many years ago, when his "army" numbered barely a thousand. Where he came from, no one knew, but his training was better than most ordinary soldiers. He possessed the spirit of a warrior and the charisma of a leader. Bandits and young men were drawn to him like vultures to carrion.

The dragons had foretold Tyrkam's involvement with the one chosen to carry the spirit of the white dragon. For that reason, they had requested that he, Makleor, keep watch on the man.

Eager for the return of the white dragon, Makleor had carried out their wishes and met the dark-complexioned man with a warning and a show of senility. When Tyrkam ignored the warning and found himself in trouble, Makleor proved his power by "accidentally" helping amid a fake act of confusion.

From that moment, Tyrkam had demanded his skills, which Makleor provided with limitations. His false senility kept the warlord cautious of an accident of magic but confident in his ability to outwit the mage who aided him.

In the years since that first meeting, Tyrkam had never spoken of the Sovereign of Rivonia, nor displayed any indication of having any contact with the long-time ally of Cavatar. But then, Tyrkam never discussed his past prior to gaining a following in the small western kingdom of Laranthen, which he conquered with few more than a thousand men.

He hates this person, Gaispar said.

I agree. Why might that be? Makleor had seen much in his lifetime, but most of it had focused on watching for the chosen one and keeping watch of Setheadroc. Could Tyrkam have come from the tribes of the Caveshan Plains or Rivonia itself? The implications sparked a host of suspicions about the man's origins.

"He sent no response to your message?" Dorjan asked.

Tyrkam's eyes fixed on a point beyond the room. His face pinched with the tension of some memory only he knew.

Makleor gripped his staff tighter as he studied the deep lines of the warlord's face and the subtle shifts of his brow. Curious.

After several long seconds of silence, Dorjan shifted his feet. "My lord."

Tyrkam blinked away the daze and focused on him.

"Has he responded to your demand for Phelan Isolder?"

"No more than I expected. Nothing. He'll shelter the fool until he can send his army to defeat me." A menacing smirk lifted the corners of his mouth, and he leaned over the table in the center of the room. "We'll be ready for that day."

"We've not taken the largest port city. Candro maintains shipping with Rivonia."

Tyrkam growled. "We need to cut off their access to the sea and the support that comes by that route. Rivonia is not Cavatar's only ally."

Makleor ignored the rest of the conversation about politics and strategies. His interests settled back on Vahrik and Lusiradrol. She had encouraged Tyrkam to send the shapeshifter to Istaria. Had she also cornered Vahrik into creating a second plan?

I have another favor to ask of you, he told Gaispar.

She shifted on his shoulder.

Go to Wynmere and keep an eye on Vahrik. I need to know what agreement he has with Lusiradrol. For ill I know, but whose? I've a mind she intends to use him for her foul interests.

You wish me to leave now?

He shook his head. Rest. The flight is long. You'll not get far until you've recovered.

Her weary gratitude touched him through the colors of magic. He smiled and shifted his feet. When Tyrkam left, he would follow. With luck, the warlord would reveal a few pieces of his game, or maybe his origins. There must have been a connection there, something he had hidden all these years about his true purpose for seeking power over Cavatar. Learning about who he really was and where he'd come from might answer the question of why he really sought the white dragon's power.

_______________

# Jayson

Jayson shivered in the chill air, despite the sun at their backs. The land passed as a white blur far beneath them. The steady flap of the dragon's wings carried them closer to what had become Tyrkam's territory for at least a couple of years.

Behind him, Darius shifted with more restlessness than Jayson felt.

May fate favor us that you may return to them, Jayson silently prayed. A trace of guilt slithered through his heart since leaving the security of Eyr Droc. He deserved not to take Darius from Istaria at this crucial time, but Darius was the only one he knew who might understand and help him.

Ironic. Jayson kept his thoughts private. Not long ago I listened to your every word, watched your every move, lest you hint of the vault. Never would you, but such was my duty, made easy by your loyalty. Now you are the one to help me. Haiberuk had indicated before he disappeared that he, Jayson, was the last of the elite guards in that realm. Jayson assumed that excluded Darius, who by then dwelt in the Second Realm.

That meant the only other Son'tal away from the vault was deceased, along with his charge. Only upon the death of his charge could he have given up his duty otherwise. He must have died honorably, knowing both took the secret to their graves. But had he?

Something still bothered Jayson about the shapeshifter who had followed to Eyr Droc. He knew something, but the memory had grown old and faded, shoved aside for greater concerns.

If only another had survived the revival of the Red Clan. Regrets climbed into his consciousness that he had led Lusiradrol to them, but he could have done nothing to stop her.

Neither could he have stopped Lusiradrol from taking Calli.

His heart chilled at the thought. Jayson shut his eyes but saw her face as if she stood before him. The last expression of her eyes had been horror.

The thought washed away with the breeze as Sethirngal angled down to barren trees. A familiarity of the landscape brought back memories of the wyvern's attack on Calli and the others.

The forest of Wynmere. Based on their agreement, Sethirngal would leave them to travel the rest of the distance on foot. Those in the castle would not notice them coming, giving them a chance to enter and find Calli. That precision would give the dragon a chance to get in and out without digging through debris and weapons.

Jayson hoped to avoid Lusiradrol.

Sethirngal steadied his decent with wings beating against the air and landed with barely a thud.

We have reached the enchanted trees

protected by those who bless the leaves.

They will hide you with their skill,

to rescue her of Dark's ill will.

Sethirngal laid his head to the ground and stretched out a front claw as a ramp.

Jayson climbed off with Darius close behind and turned with a bow to the dragon. "Thank you."

Call me when you find your love,

and we shall race the clouds above

to join the lady fair and mild

and be there when comes the child.

"With all speed." Darius bowed to Sethirngal.

Sethirngal blinked intelligent eyes and took flight. Both men rushed away from the wind beating down on them.

The green dragon shrank into the sky heading west. Through the bare branches of the forest trees, Jayson saw no hint of the guardians. They couldn't have missed the dragon, but apparently they didn't object.

Without the wind of the dragon's flight, he found the air comfortable. An early spring approached, despite Lusiradrol's storm. She had not slowed the natural patterns.

And she wouldn't slow his plans to retrieve Calli.

"Never a journey started that did not require a first step."

Darius chuckled. "As you say, Master."

A slight tingle swept up Jayson's core at the jest. Haiberuk had often used such truths in his teachings, but Jayson had not intended to sound like the master. He hadn't considered it, but if it fit, he wouldn't argue. He led Darius through the melting snow crunching beneath their boots. The jest touched a familiar place in his memories that comforted his mind from the losses.

They traveled invisible but could not hide their tracks. Once they reached the road winding through the forest, they could travel undisclosed, their tracks blending with others.

Jayson altered his usual spell to hide his presence and also shielded Darius. It required the other man to stay within a certain range but granted them enough distance for a comfortable personal space. It would not fully hide them from Lusiradrol, if she lingered, as she had been able to track him other times, but at least it would dim their presences to embers instead of a full fire in the dark.

They said little by day, each of them lost in his own thoughts, and nothing at night. Within two days after leaving the dragon, they found the road.

A few days later, they spied the town of Thealon from a distant hill. Timber and plaster buildings surrounded the town well, the taller structures shrinking to shacks on the north. A light snow floated down on a gentle breeze, coating the town in white.

"We can stay with Hlynn's family."

"They were always good to you."

Darius turned with one eyebrow raised. "What of my life had you not known?"

"Trust me when I say you're better off not knowing." Jayson's job had been to monitor Darius's every move and word. Now was not the time to discuss exactly what that had entailed.

Before Darius could speak, Jayson started down the road. He hoped Darius never asked again, if only to save him the embarrassment of telling him any personal details.

Only a few travelers passed them on their journey without making themselves known. A supply wagon driven by a sharp-eyed man with a scowl on his lips and accompanied by two riders passed them on the way to town.

Near the end of the day, they stopped on a hill overlooking the town. The distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer rang out over the calm, and voices rose in conversations from those walking through the streets.

Mud smeared the snow in the streets and splashed up the legs of a pair of horses led through the square, past the inn's livery door closing off the cold of the outside.

"I assume you mean for us to enter through the livery?"

Darius nodded with a hint of a smile. "May scare the socks off Hlynn to see me, but she'll not turn me away."

They hurried to the town, aware of a couple soldiers entering the inn. Dark-oiled beams formed squares and diagonals against an off-white plaster background with a dark door next to a frosted window.

Instead of using the main door, Darius slid open the large wooden livery door attached to the side of the main building. The sweet scent of hay mixed with the odor of manure.

Jayson wrinkled his nose. What fond memories.

Darius turned to him. Here too?

Jayson shrugged. What could he say? He had followed Darius everywhere. Slept when he slept. Ate meals when he could. Guarding the secret had been his only purpose.

They hurried to the door where a lantern hung, casting a weak glow into the stable, and moved around thick beams supporting the loft overhead.

Jayson scanned the livery for any signs of men but saw only three cows looking up at them from their enclosure while mindlessly chewing, pausing only to curl thick tongues up into their nostrils on occasion, and a couple of horses dozing in their stalls. The animals didn't care they were there.

Darius took hold of the latch for the door to the pantry. It creaked on old hinges but made no more sound as they both slipped inside with minimal noise.

"What's that?" The door muffled the man's voice. In seconds, the door to the kitchen opened, spewing light into the pantry. A grizzled face with bags beneath his eyes peered in. The man shrugged and closed the door again.

"Now whatcha hearin'?" The door muffled the woman's voice.

Hlynn.

Jayson glanced at Darius, afraid he might expose them too soon.

"Thought'n I heard someone in the pantry."

A snort responded. "I think yer hearin' too many things lately. Jus' be watchin' the soup. I'll not have it burnin' to the pan again. Those cheap soldiers look for every excuse t'not pay. Filthy, greedy—"

"Bite your tongue, woman! They've ears too sharp. Too many folk disappear for sayin' stuff."

Things had grown worse since Jayson last set foot in Wynmere.

"Was better under Tyrkam," Hlynn muttered. From the clarity of her voice, she stood right outside the door. "I'll check to be sure no one's in the stable. Cursed weather. Does no good to give free lodgin' t'strays."

The door opened again. Jayson ducked back from the woman's path through the pantry. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, her lantern casting a gentle glow in the darkened room. Instead of going straight for the livery door, she searched the pantry. Given the narrow space, she should have bumped them with her wide hips.

When she saw nothing, she let out a sigh. "Just a hope," she muttered and passed them to the livery.

She adjusted her green shawl and stepped out into the chill of the livery, the lantern held high before her. Jayson and Darius followed into the cold air and waited at the door as she walked through. She looked in all the pens and climbed the loft. After rustling around above, she came down.

On her way down the ladder, she muttered about her husband imagining things and the soldiers and Vahrik's heavy hand.

At the door to the pantry, Jayson dropped the spell of invisibility. Darius stood next to him with a somber face.

With her eyes everywhere but forward, Hlynn almost ran over them. She let out a startled yelp and jumped back. Before she could scream out, Darius threw back his hood.

"Sssh! Hlynn," he whispered.

Hlynn blinked. "Darius?" She held the lantern up to his face. Recognition melted away her fright and a smile curved up. "I hoped you'd show."

She held the lantern up to Jayson's face and frowned. "Your girl got ugly, pardon me saying."

Jayson smirked. "I'll be sure to tell her." He'd followed Darius and Istaria here in their escape from Vahrik after Tyrkam beat him for letting her escape. Not far outside the town, the white dragon had made his appearance over Istaria and scared off Vahrik's men.

"This is Jayson."

She looked from Jayson to Darius. "Friend o' yours? What happened t'yer other friend, the girl with the white hair?"

With a smile that gave away his pride, he said, "She's safe."

"Never was one for much talk." She motioned with her chin to Jayson. "What o' this one? Whatcha bring him for?"

"We need a place to stay tonight."

Hlynn's eyes narrowed in the shadows from the lantern. "I've seen you before."

Jayson shrugged.

Darius turned to him, but the calm expression told Jayson that he knew the answer by now.

"I suppose I let my cover slip."

Her lips crooked up in a partial grin. "Friend o' Darius? Then yeh both be warned. I've no place inside, what with all these men sent by Vahrik. They've a mind to takin' what they want. Darkness take them—all o' them."

She shivered and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

"You know I've always a place for yeh, Darius, but y'll be sleepin' with Bella and Sara tonight. I'll leave a coupla hot plates for yeh come the morn."

Darius gave her a simple bow.

Giving in to a streak of mischief, Jayson bowed low as one would to royalty. "Our most humble thanks, my lady."

Hlynn eyed him but the flush of her cheeks in the lamplight betrayed her. "Jus' make no noise, or the men, they get suspicious."

After the door thudded closed behind Hlynn, Darius turned to him. "You enjoyed that too much."

Of course he had. Knowing nothing else to say, Jayson shrugged.

They found places in the loft and settled in for the night. As he lay in the straw, Jayson ran over the plan in his mind. The next day they would enter the castle, but Tyrkam was not the one running things. Somehow his son had come to rule. Did Tyrkam grant him his power or had Vahrik rebelled?

If Tyrkam granted him such power, then the impetuous youth would pose little threat. If Vahrik rebelled, then he had a castle of guards dedicated to him rather than Tyrkam. No less of a bother, but more of an obstacle.

Had Lusiradrol planned it that way?

The answer didn't change the fact that Lusiradrol had taken Calli to Wynmere. Whoever ruled the lands here held her inside. Vahrik or Tyrkam mattered not.

"Get some rest," whispered Darius. "In a few days, we fight."

Jayson glanced aside at Darius. The shuffle of straw and motion of the dark shape told him the man turned over.

Indeed, we fight, he thought and laid back. And Wynmere will likely be no more. Escaping with Calli would be the challenge.

* * *

Down the hill and across the clearing loomed the castle at the edge of the ravine. Anticipation gnawed at Jayson's insides. He struggled to restrain himself from racing to it to reach Calli. Instead, he focused on maintaining their invisibility, although it required little effort.

Ten horsemen raced past them for the castle. The jingle of metal and thunder of hooves on the frozen ground announced their arrival to those in the castle. The grinding of the gate echoed across the clearing, shattering the still air with its welcome to the riders.

The lack of activity and smooth snow around the castle sent a chill through Jayson's core. From previous experience following Darius on his deliveries of firewood to Tyrkam, he knew the normal routine, and not a trace remained.

Vahrik had made changes. Where at least some men should have practiced their combat skills and weapons, no one did. Occasional clashes or voices rose from behind the high walls, but from nowhere else. Vahrik kept all his supporters inside, boxed up and, like fish in a barrel, easy picking.

They continued toward the castle.

Jayson breathed deeply the cool air hinting of an early spring rain. A freezing rain now would make rescue by Sethirngal difficult. They might have to hide in the castle until it passed.

Every minute of delay put them at risk. He must have been crazy to risk himself and Darius for one person.

Not just any person. Calli was one of the First Race, if not of full blood, then half by her father at least.

More than that, he loved her. That reason alone made rescuing her a priority, even if she longed more for her prince than him. He could not bear to leave her.

At the gates, they paused. The doors slowly closed after admitting the riders, the chains clanging in the cold air. Once inside they could not turn back.

Darius looked at him, an unspoken question lifting his brow.

After a moment to confirm his desire to carry out the plan, Jayson gave a nod. Both of them easily squeezed through the closing space between the doors.

Inside the protective wall, soldiers and servants trudged in the mud from one place to another. While the soldiers patrolled the upper walk and the yard, the servants moved among them with stooped shoulders.

Jayson and Darius hastened across the yard to the more solid footing around the less-traveled side.

Darius led him to a side door used only by servants. Stone and timbers lay strewn about the base of the keep. The top had been crushed under something heavy, almost as if a dragon had landed on it. Curious, but no time to study it. They had come for Calli, not to speculate about the castle.

They entered a low-lit passage adjacent to the kitchen. Aware of the muddy tracks they left in their wake, they hurried to find a vacant room where they could clean it from their boots. Other footsteps littered the corridors of those who had passed through before them, although they saw no one now. The mud would never have accumulated under Tyrkam's critical eye.

The lack of attention made their job easier. Those who passed them unawares bore the marks of their hard labors in their tattered clothes, unkempt hair, and disconsolate expressions. If they noticed anything, they had no care but to their survival.

Tyrkam's son had no compassion for anyone. Any misgivings about the dragon tearing down the old castle to reach Calli dissipated. It could only improve matters here.

Jayson and Darius made their way deeper inside, the mud on their boots falling off with each step they took. Among the other prints, theirs were lost.

Voices reached them from somewhere ahead. Jayson glanced back with a question to Darius, who nodded in silent agreement. They followed the voices, nearing what Jayson recognized as the castle's main hall. A familiar harsh tone made him cringe.

Quite the mouth on the little bugger.

Darius nodded his agreement.

They paused to listen.

"Never assume to know my mind!" The words grated with frustration. "Next time report to me. I will decide what price to pay."

By listening longer, they learned only that Vahrik cursed a servant sent with the guards to trade in Thealon.

Jayson shrugged and moved on. With others around, Vahrik would give away nothing of the prize left by Lusiradrol, if she had brought Calli there. He might lead them to Calli, but they had no way to know.

It mattered not. Jayson had been in Wynmere Castle many times in trailing Darius on Tyrkam's orders to supply firewood. He had used those opportunities to familiarize himself with the layout. They could find Calli come morning.

In the present they needed a place to sleep. The travel and use of magic tired him, and he had an idea of where they might be safe.

Faint but familiar stirrings of magic made him smile. It came from the safest place in the castle, but nothing indicated the mage was anywhere near Wynmere.

Makleor should have no problem with them borrowing his room for the night. No one would disturb them there.

The mage's tower? Darius asked.

A smile crooked up one side of Jayson's lips. Reading minds now?

Darius shrugged.

Whether his friend detected the same stirrings or dared to probe his thoughts, Jayson cared not. They both agreed on where to rest. That was enough. After using the invisibility for so long, he grew weary. He needed rest to wash away his fatigue before the search began.

They followed the flow of magic through the corridors. In some corners lay chunks of rock or splinters of wood. Whatever had destroyed the top levels crushed down the lower levels. It confirmed his assessment from outside.

Dragons, I'd bet, Jayson said as they passed through an empty section of corridor strewn with rubble. Darius said nothing from behind, but Jayson guessed he drew the same conclusion. Why, if the dragons or Lusiradrol's wyverns attacked the keep, did they leave it standing? Why not destroy it and be done?

Unease settled into Jayson's core. Lusiradrol had left him alone to lead her to the Sh'lahmar, where she had found her sleeping clan. The true dragons would not attack without cause. That left the Red Clan. If they attacked and left the castle standing and its occupants living, that meant the dragon woman had plans for the castle.

What were those plans?

Calli. It had to be. Lusiradrol had sealed her and brought her here, without a doubt. There had to be more to it. But what?

He'd have time to consider it once they reached Makleor's chambers.

At the end of dark corridor, they found a spiral staircase climbing the inside of an untouched tower. Gray light shadowed the steps before them, washing over the dull stone from the few glass windows along the sides. It had to be a tower. Could Makleor not have settled for a ground-floor room? Towers meant torture, places of imprisonment.

Apparently Tyrkam had never taken prisoners, or the old mage figured on being left alone.

At each floor they passed, open doorways welcomed them. They passed them without interest, following the source of the power to the top of the stairs.

When they reached the landing after more than three floors, Jayson hesitated. The closed door looked as innocuous as any other. Nothing extraordinary stood out on sight, not that it should from what would once have been a detention tower.

But here, magic twisted into a web.

Jayson smirked and glanced back at Darius, who stood with a calm patience.

This was the lair of Makleor. The last of the Great Magi would guard his dwelling in some form while he was away. No mortal could pass, but the spell was simple enough for anyone with a basic knowledge of magic to break.

He reached a finger toward the door with all the care of one afraid of shattering it at the slightest touch.

His fingertip tingled before contacting the wood. As he expected. Anyone foolish enough to reach for the door without caution would be knocked senseless.

With a thought, Jayson neutralized the spell for them. The magic would remain but would pass over them without affect.

Jayson used caution when reaching for the wood afterwards but felt nothing. Reassured of his success, he put a hand to the door and pushed.

It opened without incident.

"Better you than me," Darius whispered from behind.

Jayson stepped into a room of books stacked to their chests. The faint light from the spiral stairs defined the edges of the room while the closed shutters blocked the windows. He shivered from a cold draft.

After closing the door behind them with barely a thump, Darius set to work starting a fire in the fireplace, while Jayson made his way to the nearest stack of bound tomes and blew away a coat of dust from the top volume. The cloud hovered in the still air and descended with reluctance.

"I always wondered how Makleor lived. What keeps one sane for four thousand years?"

He reached the table without bumping over any books. Having nothing else to occupy him and curious, he ventured to open one of the books.

"How does one tolerate so many lifetimes without company?"

His eyes settled on what seemed a journal entry from almost two years ago. After a few words, he forgot his question. A few notes were scribbled in the margin, but the entry captured his attention:

15.3 pc 936

I write this for those who find my translations. My waiting is almost done. This curse of immortality will soon be lifted. My soul will find rest from my crimes.

After aiding the death of the white dragon while under Lusiradrol's spell, I have made my penance. I have done as requested of me to guide the outcome.

Our Mother, Tahronen, bade me stay with Tyrkam, a foolish mortal, but one who has intentions on Gilthiel's power. He shall not have it.

It will come his way, quite sure, but not as he expects. He has plans for the chosen one. I am loathe to watch in silence his cruel methods, but perhaps it will work for the best. Her fate awaits in the forest of Wynmere, which lies at the doorstep of this castle. The spirit of Gilthiel knows this.

I have left the tale of the white dragon and my righted wrongs in the library of Cavatar for all to read. All children of the Light must understand the past to be ready for the war that will come. In the tome, I described events from three thousand years ago as I saw them. My memories have not faded; my guilt would not allow it.

I pray you take my words to heart.

Though the events in the stories of the Second Race are said to be mere legends and myths, they are real.

I wish you to understand. You must believe, or our world and our hope is lost. You must be ready to battle the darkness, if you have not already. Not warlords like Tyrkam, but true darkness. The corruption of the Darklord when he touched the hearts of the Second Race is in every one of us.

I would tell you his name, this Lord of Darkness, that you might recognize him, but to do so would hasten his return to power much sooner than we can afford. He cannot remember who he is since he tried to flee his destruction once, in another time. To hear his true name would break the enchantment that binds him. We are not ready for that. Every passing moment gives us a greater chance of final victory.

But that is another story, one I included in the tome in the library. (Though not his name)

Know that I have bound his vile Red Clan under a spell of sleep. There they will remain as long as the secret is never uttered. I have also spent my years battling his demons. Some I destroyed, others my power could only subdue into a dormancy that will not last. I did these things to provide some time to coordinate all forces of Light.

The descendants of the Ancients must also join the fight as their ancestors did, were created to do. The Majera know this. The First Race guard their secrets and themselves, but you must find them. There is one I know among you, perhaps a second, who can guide you to them.

Yes, two, a rare treasure. Look to the flame.

I can say no more, as I have sworn to them, to the lovers who came to Ayrule and died in their quest for answers.

With Gilthiel's return, no more shadows will fall.

Walk in the Light.

Makleor, last of the Great Magi

"Ask the dragons."

Darius's words never penetrated the focus that sharpened Jayson's attention. While the entry addressed anyone who would read it, the contents of the passage gave him chills. Most of it he had learned from Haiberuk.

But the last item froze him where he stood.

Two Ancients. "Look to the flame," he muttered aloud. What else but the flaming color of her hair? Calli and another? Who? Red hair was rare in Ayrule, as he suspected it was with the Ancients.

He had seen another with the same fiery red, a man whose face escaped his memory at the moment.

Calli was their only connection. She knew of her father's homeland but had never heard the legends of the Second and Third Ages of Gairdra, leaving her without knowledge of her ancestors. She could not know of another of her father's people on the continent.

From his written words, Makleor promised to say nothing. He must have made the promise to Calli's father and a woman—perhaps her mother?—whom had both passed away. That meant the mage knew of her, but he'd said nothing to anyone.

He must have been protecting her.

"I see."

Jayson blinked and turned to Darius, who peered over his shoulder at the open pages.

"He foresaw our coming."

Without further word, Darius returned to the tiny fire climbing over the logs in the hearth. Jayson closed the book and set it back on the table in the square outline free of dust.

"It would seem that way."

"I'll leave the Ancients to you, if you've no problem with that. Besides, I have other duties waiting in Eyr Droc."

Jayson would not ask Darius for more than this. The man had more important duties as a father soon to attend.

But did Darius know the identities of the individuals of which Makleor hinted? Jayson had said nothing of Calli's lineage or the power of the sword she used. Too tired to think, he shrugged away the thought for later and found a place near the fire to sit down.

Makleor's note gave them something to discuss. In the race against dark forces, they needed all the knowledge and allies they could find.

Finding the First Race would be easy but convincing them to ally with the descendants of those who drove them from their homes would be another matter. They would need Calli for that.

_______________

# Vahrik

"Take him away." Vahrik stood with his back to the activity, waiting for the thud of the door. After it echoed in the meeting room, he turned from his brooding, expecting to have time to think without interruption.

He jumped back from the table and the woman with the chilling smirk. She wore an alluring black dress fitted to her curves and cut low. Despite the warmth of the flames, he could have sworn he saw his breath.

"The quest for power is rather...satisfying." The last word came out in a hiss. The glint in her eyes hinted of her dark pleasure.

Vahrik eased back from her, cautious of her presence. "Why are you here?"

Lusiradrol's black-red lips curved into a menacing smirk that made him shiver. "You have visitors."

"Visitors? I've allowed no one—"

A finger to his lips stopped his objection.

"You could not stop them if you wanted, my little king." She stood back and leaned with casual grace on the mantle of the fireplace, the slit in her gown exposing her thigh. "But I can. I've been waiting for this. Make your guards ready. They'll attempt to steal your treasure."

"How, by the Trinity, could they steal that block of crystal?"

She stepped close, her slender body inches away, and lifted her hand, palm up, at her side. A ball of fire ignited in the air above her palm. "Need you ask?" She closed her fist on it, dissipating it into a puff of smoke.

"Magic?"

Lusiradrol stepped back to the fireplace. "Very good. You understand now. Ready your guards."

"But you said I cannot stop them. What good will guards be?"

She crossed her arms. "Keep them occupied."

"How many are they?"

"Two."

"The princess?"

Fire masked her smile, enveloping her in an instant. "Just as well." The pillar of fire vanished, along with her.

Just as well? The princess had not come but someone "just as well" had? Was it Darius? If so, who was with him? What magic had they? Surely Darius could not use magic. Perhaps the person with him could.

How were his guards to keep someone with magic at their disposal occupied while Lusiradrol set her trap? What did she plan?

Vahrik growled and stormed from the room, frustrations grinding between his teeth. Why could she not speak in clear terms?

He would check on his frozen captive himself.

_______________

# Marjan

The smooth walls of the dank corridors arched overhead. Moisture dripped into a pool beyond the light of the torch, the slow, steady drips echoing in the darkness. The thump of steps called down the lonely passages in fading echoes an announcement of their approach.

Marjan shivered. Something about the inner passages—or was it his mind working on the descriptions from Kirin and Siannon—touched on fears he learned to ignore, or thought he had. These corridors were not meant to be walked.

He had realized it before starting on this trek. Siannon agreed to show him the way, while Kirin stayed behind, mourning the death of his brother.

Marjan had asked for other volunteers and received only one—Kale. Of all the people who could have accompanied him in this trek through the inner corridors of the fortress, Kale was the one he most wanted at his side if they ran into danger.

Marjan glanced aside at the shadowed visage of the warrior. Perhaps you'll find a way to work off your frustrations. The man had never apologized for attacking him in their council meeting, but neither had Marjan apologized for his purposeful insult. The men feared the dragon beasts, which had not entered Arronfel. He would not apologize for being right.

Kirin had reported of worse monsters than the dragons, however. Perhaps by seeing them, Kale would show his bravery against the dragons and lead the others to follow, rather than hide behind his so-called honor.

At one of the cross-corridors, Siannon bent down, torch held high. He took a few steps into the center of the intersection and looked both left and right.

Marjan found the stones on the floor, the markers Kirin had described using to keep from getting lost.

The cook's boy pointed to the left. "This way." His whisper cracked through the still like the snap of a whip.

Marjan followed with Kale a step behind. The captain had said nothing since they passed through the lonely door in an isolated part of the fortress and stepped within the dark corridors excavated through the mountain.

They walked down the corridor a short distance before reaching another intersection. In the flickering light of the torch, Marjan made out a doorway at the end of the corridor to his right.

Siannon pointed but said nothing. He stayed close to them as they approached the arched doorway.

A small shiver ran down Marjan's spine, but he knew it was not the cold. Something about the decorative markings framing the door and reflected in the torchlight set his mind on edge. They matched the designs found throughout Linfrathâr. What was so special about these markings?

Or were they meant as something more than decoration?

Marjan hesitated a step before the archway. Now that he studied them, he realized they formed a pattern. What did it mean?

"Are we going?"

Kale's rough voice jerked him out of his thoughts and the fears inspiring them. Marjan gave a nod and motioned to Siannon to lead them inside with the light of the torch.

They stepped into a room as the explorers had described it.

Marjan's eyes immediately fell on the dust-coated obsidian on the pedestal in the center. Recalling Kirin's warning, he pulled his eyes away to the pictures on the seven sections of outer wall. Starting with the image next to the doorway, he studied each fiendish creature in its depiction. Eerily lifelike, the images included one of the red dragons.

Kale's dark eyes studied the dragons swooping down from the sky and lifting off livestock and people, but he said nothing.

Marjan knew what he thought. Kale believed the stories now, but pride prevented him from admitting it.

In another, a fierce warrior stood with a sword dripping the blood of a man beneath his feet. Marjan thought the image strange amongst the rest. What seemed an ordinary soldier in battle puzzled him.

"Traitor," Kale muttered.

At the sound of the voice near his shoulder, Marjan turned to ask the reason for such a statement, but the captain pointed to the black eyes and traced his finger from the man's armor to his victim's armor.

"Same army."

The markings on the armor of the two warriors matched. Marjan had not seen it clearly in the shadows.

But the eyes blacker than the inner corridors and the insane, wild expression on the man's face were not an effect of the shadows.

"I hate them all. This room is cursed."

Marjan glanced aside at Siannon, whose eyes never wavered from him.

"Have you finished?" the boy asked.

Kale moved off, his interest taken by another of the gruesome images.

"A little more time." Feigning a calm he could not feel in this place, Marjan patted Siannon's shoulder and stepped past him to join the captain around the circle of images. He understood the boy's anxiety to leave, but for his own knowledge and reasons, Marjan wished to learn as much as he could of the ancient fortress and whatever lurked in the dark recesses of it.

The images chilled his soul, but he dared not show it. Shadowy creatures and monsters from nightmares spread their foul wings or sank their teeth into the flesh of men and beasts. Two less frightening images, like the dragons, numbered many in their murals. While some of the creatures were best described as demons from what he thought were myths, others were corporeal beings that could be injured and even killed. The images presented that, almost as if the artist intended to grant hope against them.

Each painting depicted its monster at the worst. However, as he looked closer, Marjan realized someone stood up to them in each. The images of demons showed a man or woman with a globe of light in their hands warding off a second or third kind of that monster. The armies of dragons, what appeared to be a cross between wolves and men, and something resembling a man twisted and tortured fought the gallant heroes of an age forgotten. While some of the creatures killed, others were being slain.

"This place is a warning." Marjan's grim tone broke the silence. "But with hope."

Kale grunted, his steps taking him back to the doorway. "What o' the stone?"

Marjan looked to the stone in the center. Had Kirin seen what he described, or was it his imagination inspired by the gruesome images of the room?

Curious of its nature, Marjan studied it for a few more seconds. The temperature of the room dropped.

Darkness fell over his mind, a foul shadow laughing in mockery.

"What are you?" Marjan asked the question but his mouth never moved.

"I am death." The voice grated and cracked like ice. "I am the hand of my master. I will have my vengeance on those who trapped me!"

"Sir!"

Violent shaking made Marjan blink. He looked up.

Kale drew his hand back as if to slap him broadside.

Marjan lifted his arm to block the swing.

"You woke too soon." He sounded disappointed.

"You'd have liked it too much."

Kale shrugged, keeping himself between Marjan and the stone with his back to it. Siannon stood next to him.

"Just like Kirin," the boy said.

Was that it, a creature was trapped inside the stone? Marjan shivered at the cold of the room and the chill left in his core. He wished to leave immediately, to leave the evil place and forget the monster that spoke to him. Now he understood Kirin's reluctance to return.

"I'll explain later."

As he turned to leave, a red light pierced the room from the stone.

Marjan blinked and backed to the doorway with the others, his eyes on the angry light, which grew to encompass the entire stone.

"I think it best that we leave."

Marjan glanced aside at the hulk of a warrior. For the first time since he could remember, genuine fear reflected in Kale's eyes.

Malevolent laughter chilled his core, and an inky black grew from within the red. The stone rattled on its perch.

The three backed out of the room

The stone crashed to the floor and shattered. Sinister laughter echoed around them.

"At last!" The deep voice froze all three outside the doorway. A shadow oozed from the stone, which melted like water and flowed together. It pooled into a black emptiness, absorbing all light. The air chilled until they saw their breaths.

A piercing howl rang through the corridors from the room.

Marjan covered his ears like the others, but the sound vibrated through him, piercing his soul rather than his hearing so he couldn't block it.

To his horror, the pool grew up into a column to the arched ceiling of the room beyond the doorway. The howl faded with the shadow vanishing upwards.

In seconds they stood in silence again.

"We have a new problem."

The others turned to Marjan. Kale's frown reflected his thoughts. What had they disturbed? What creature had broken free of its cage?

They hurried back through the corridors. No one would return to that room.

On their race to escape the tunnels, Marjan kicked the stones into the walls behind them to erase their trail. When they returned to the main fortress, he would have the door sealed with masonry. No one would enter the tunnels again to free any other demons waiting there.

_______________

# Lusiradrol

A faint power tingled through Lusiradrol. It called to her, or something inside her.

From her place in her ruins, she watched the orb before her, waiting with all the patience of a spider in its web. The crystallized Calli remained in her prison. No one had entered or left the room since Vahrik.

The old mage did not return to the castle; she would have felt his presence. Besides, this disturbance fed the darkness in her rather than fought it. It awoke images in her mind. Scattered like flies over a carcass, they darted from her grasp.

In quiet contemplation, Lusiradrol focused on them, bringing one scene forth in her head. Vague but familiar, it played, opening something deeper within her. Like other times in recent cycles, her powers expanded without effort.

But the scene rose from the ashes of another's memories.

Great armies stretched out in formation, filling the long valley from this end to the farthest passes. Humanlike but not human, they were the product of his tampering with the creations of his enemy.

They awaited his command.

Nearby lingered greater powers, pieces he had separated from himself and molded into demons. None had the full power of their Lord, but they were greater than the Majera's creatures. His favorites would go forth and steal the life energy from the beings populating the world. Others would control men for his purposes. Most would destroy.

He envisioned a day when his armies extinguished the Light of the world, and Chaos once again ruled.

"Send your legions to the East." His deep voice commanded the C'Lupuc.

"Raze the men of the South," he ordered the Garzun.

To the dragons perched around the valley, he gave orders to aid his armies by defending against the first clans. His demons he sent forth to the less populated areas to the north of the Dark Hills. Nothing remained to the west, but the C'Lupuc would return full circle over the world when they finished.

Lusiradrol blinked away the vestiges of memories.

The scene had taken place long before her time, of that she was certain, particularly since some of the beings no longer existed. It was as the other memories—those of the Darklord.

So many creatures under the master's command. What had happened to them?

With such armies at her command, she would not fear the white dragon's return.

After capturing the men who came to save Calli, she would send out her dragons to find them. The power of the Darklord would be hers, as would be his armies. The demons would take more care in commanding, but the growing of her powers might make controlling them possible.

She desired power and had no time for petty games. Those who stood in her path would die before their second breath. Vahrik was no longer needed or wanted.

_______________

# Shadow

Shadow stalked into the room on four silent paws. The object of his hunt stood at the tall window next to the bed, her silvery white hair shimmering in the slant of the evening sun. He crept along the wall and crunched down to hide beneath the dresser near the door. His crawling beneath the dresser stirred dust, which tickled his nose with a threatening sneeze, but it settled.

He could have watched the princess all day. Never before had he set his eyes on as enchanting of an image. For this, he was happy to turn himself into a cat, which was more acceptable to the women for getting close to his target, but he hadn't anticipated her beauty.

The women must have noticed his presence in the magic, although they neither said nor did anything.

Footsteps halted near the door behind him.

"Istaria." The authority of the voice and the beaded decorations of the shoes identified the woman as the former queen of Cavatar. She stopped a few steps inside the door.

The princess turned to the woman, her swollen belly protruding from beneath the long gown. He could not hear the words of the princess but guessed the general flow of the conversation. She never spoke—always mute, except for mindspeech.

"Dinner is ready."

By the smile on Istaria's face, she approved. The other Lumathir witch, Gayleana, knew how to cook. He had satisfied his hunger with the last bits of their meals after they left the kitchen each night.

Istaria waddled across the room, holding onto her belly with an occasional grimace of discomfort.

"It'll get no better," Damaera said.

The princess sighed and exited ahead of her mother, who left the door ajar. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Shadow crawled out from his hiding and followed the women downstairs.

From the first time he set his eyes on the princess, he had found himself in conflict. The girl had no equal for beauty.

And she was pregnant. Tyrkam had said nothing about that. Shadow was not callous enough to place a woman in her state in the hands of such a man. Although he despised the Sh'lahmar, he would not risk the life of a child for that anger.

If he heard right from their discussions, this child was nothing less than the white dragon. That one he would not hand over to Lusiradrol for any price. He was anything but stupid. Although he desired to take away from Darius the one he loved, he could not risk the one hope of the world. Doing so would jeopardize the world and him with it. There was no satisfaction for him in dying.

If Lusiradrol wanted her enemy, she could do the work herself. He would have no part in destroying the world.

But he could have his revenge after the child was born, if Tyrkam could wait that long.

No assignment ever delayed him. He had slain warriors whom he could have sworn slept with one eye open.

This assignment...

He had learned patience in his training. He could wait. Waiting would be best.

"I hope you've an appetite." Gayleana's cheery voice rose from the kitchen when Damaera opened the door. The scent of herbs and spices blew with renewed strength through the doorway.

Shadow inhaled deeply and his stomach gurgled, tempting him through the doorway where Damaera held the door for her daughter.

At the rectangular table in the center of the room, Istaria sat in one of four chairs.

"He's not coming?" Gayleana asked.

Damaera shrugged and continued to hold the door open. When she turned and fixed her eyes on him, Shadow froze. So that was it, but they would not see his true form until he knew he could gain their trust. Only that way would he lure Istaria to the First Realm.

Or was it a game to them? He flicked his tail with suspicion. Perhaps they knew not but hoped to lure him out of his hiding. If that was the case, he would disappoint them. He played by his rules, not theirs.

A confident smile crept up the delicate lips of the queen. "Come, now. You must be hungry."

Reluctant to admit she was right but willing to cooperate to gain their trust, Shadow stalked across the sitting room. He passed near the feet of the queen, and Gayleana set a bowl on the floor. Eager to satisfy his stomach's harsh objections, he sunk his teeth into the meat scraps she offered.

"Better," Gayleana said.

He looked up while gnawing a piece of gristle.

Mischief glinted in her eyes. "No more of this licking out the pots after dark."

So, they had known. No matter.

Istaria rested her head in her hands with her elbows on the table, her smile as rueful as her mother's. She said nothing but revealed a wealth of knowledge behind her smile.

This assignment was not like others. This situation tested his core beliefs. The Sh'lahmar had trained him to kill but to pity those he killed; but he had forsaken that training and the Sh'lahmar to live his own life. After more assassinations than he could count, he should have cared nothing for his victims, but he did, at least for her. She awakened something in him.

"They'll return with Calli."

Shadow glanced up at the three women. Seated on the opposite side of the table, Damaera played with her food. On the side nearest him, Istaria held Gayleana's hand to her belly.

"My! What a kick he has."

Istaria's smile lit up the room with pride. Shadow watched her while chewing a bit of raw meat attached to the gristle.

"Nothing." The sadness of the queen's tone and her lack of appetite drew their attention from the baby.

Shadow listened to half a conversation. Istaria spoke only to them, but he understood the tone of the others' voices.

"I've one child lost yet."

"Phelan." Gayleana's spoke in a sympathetic tone.

Damaera said nothing but the scratch of her fork moving her food around on the plate remained.

"He'll return." Gayleana adjusted her chair with a scrape on the floor. "I look forward to meeting him too."

"Aunt Gayle?" Humor brightened the queen's voice.

"To have such a family."

The conversation paused while they ate. He guessed Istaria commented but could not be certain.

After a minute of silence, a gentle voice entered his head. Do we not wish to have our family together?

She had never spoken to him, but now Istaria watched him with a knowing expression. He would not answer her. He would carry out his job, despite the doubts growing inside him. He simply needed to wait for the right time.

_______________

# Jayson and Lusiradrol

With Darius cloaked in the same spell next to him, Jayson pressed his ears to the door to listen to the men in the room on the other side. He heard the word that sparked his interest—prisoner.

"The demon witch has him in her spell."

After a mumbled reply from one of the others, the speaker continued. "I swear no good, but a trick she has o' this prisoner."

"Yer guardin' that one for him?"

"Sure, an' Darson's there now."

Jayson bit his lip to withhold his excitement at such a finding.

Seems they've no care to protect their master's interests, Darius said.

Jayson winked aside to Darius.

They had sat in the tower most of the morning, listening to the rain drizzle over the roof. So early in the season, it likely froze, leaving them cut off from their ride back to Eyr Droc. Having nothing better to occupy them, they had wandered down to locate Calli. Once they did, they would return to waiting until the rain ended. Unless they found another way to free Calli, the dragon would return to dig them out of the castle to take them back to Eyr Droc.

Catching the conversation made one task easier.

"Not sure he trusts the witch."

"What with him always checking on the prisoner, I expect he's afraid she'll try somethin'."

"Hah! I'd never trust that woman. Gives me a fright."

They had to mean Lusiradrol.

The conversation fell into teasing the man about being afraid. Disappointment cooled Jayson's eagerness.

His emotions demanded he jump in and strangle the answer out of the men. Reason stayed his feet. If Vahrik visited her often, he would lead them to her. That meant they needed to find the sharp-tongued fool.

"Lessee you stand up to her. You take watch tomorrow."

"You've the honor appointed by the young lord. I'll not take that from you." The tone of the voice struggled for humor but betrayed the speaker's anxiety.

Why did they not say something about the prisoner's location? Had he arrived too late in the discussion?

Heavy steps approached the door.

"Say nothing more, or your head will hang by a noose if word reaches him."

At the click of a latch, Jayson jumped away from the door. A dim light from inside revealed a handful of men around a warm fire.

"Sure as you'll be going to betray us," one of the others said from within.

The man at the door smirked. "Not if I wish to keep my head." He stepped out and closed the door behind him. Under his breath he muttered, "Shoulda left with Dorjan." The man's steps faded down the corridor, likely not heading for duty, if his next duty came tomorrow.

Keep looking, Jayson said to Darius.

They checked into every room, scanning its essence of magic for signs of trouble and Calli.

When they found nothing, they descended the stairs to the next level down—ground level.

Something set the hairs on the back of Jayson's neck standing. Faint but disturbing, it touched him through the magic. He had learned in his training from Master Haiberuk never to ignore such an instinct, but he could not trace the disturbance to its source.

They started down the corridor around the main hall, stepping aside to let servants and others pass. The ground level proved busier than the upper levels with more traffic, but most of the rooms were full that time of day, making opening doors unnecessary for their search, since the frequent in and out of servants and soldiers gave them enough time for a quick visual scan.

While they could not locate Calli, Jayson found where Vahrik let out his frustrations after the midday meal. A servant backed out of a door, her matted hair tied back to expose the fear in her eyes. She ducked her head and rushed out the door. A quick glance caught the malice in Vahrik's eyes before the young man turned and closed the door.

He's rough.

Indeed. Images of Calli at his mercy flashed through Jayson's mind. His fists tightened at the thought of what despicable acts the boy might inflict.

A second later, he smiled at a vision of Calli beating Vahrik into the ground. With a temper and spirit as she bore, combined with her fighting skills, no one was safe when she let loose.

The nagging sense that had bothered him when they stepped from the stairs rose to the forefront. Jayson stiffened—someone watched them. He sucked in a deep breath and whirled.

Lusiradrol's smile chilled his soul. "Very good, mage."

Darius reacted with a motion of his hand.

It stopped in midair, and he strained to move his hand.

"Tsk, tsk," she reprimanded, her smile darkening. "Thought you would succeed so easily?" Her satisfaction goaded Jayson, but he could not move. His hiding spell melted around them, unraveled by the forces she commanded. Lusiradrol stepped close, the void of her presence cutting him off from the world.

Damn her.

"Oh!" Her smile beamed with malice. "I remember now; I have your dearest. But you brought me no one in exchange." She slapped him across the cheek, leaving it burning in pain. "Shame on you."

Although he could not turn at the creak of the door behind them, Jayson knew who came out.

"Lusiradrol!" A second later, the voice deepened with menace. "Darius!"

Vahrik stepped between them, and the dragon woman backed away. "How did you—? Where did you—?"

"I told you they'd come." With her hands on the boy's shoulders from behind him, Lusiradrol leaned close so her black lips nearly touched Vahrik's ears. But her eyes fixed on Jayson with a teasing grin that sent a shiver down his spine. "She will come for Darius, but I want the other."

A black-nailed finger slid across Vahrik's clean-shaven jaw as she drew away.

"Take him." Vahrik's eyes never left Darius.

In a flash, Jayson stood in a room warmed by a fireplace at one end. The crystal encasing Calli caught the flickers and splattered the light about the room in shimmers of color. In a taunting way, it was beautiful.

Calli stood as she had before the dragon woman took her, while Lusiradrol sat atop the crystal with her legs crossed, the black leather of her tight-fitting clothes revealing all her deceptive curves.

Jayson struggled against her magic, but no counter spells came to mind. There is a way. Something or someone showed him the way to untangle her magic around him.

"Now, mage," she said. "We have unfinished business. You were supposed to bring another."

"No one is worth what you ask." So, she left him free to talk, but that could work against him.

Her lips curved up, and she traced a finger on the top of the crystal block. Something dark and pointed penetrated through the crystal toward Calli's head.

Jayson swallowed to keep from objecting and closed his eyes. Although he desired to protect Calli, he spoke the truth—no mortal possessed the power of the white dragon to battle Lusiradrol. His heart ached at the thought of Calli's death, but he would not give the black dragon what she desired. He refused to be blamed for sacrificing the one being on whose shoulders all their hopes rested.

He bit his lips to keep from calling out as tears burned in his eyes. Grief tightened its choking grip.

Her laughter mocked him. "Perhaps I'll wait."

Jayson opened one eye. The danger to Calli vanished. Relief calmed through him.

Lusiradrol jumped from her perch and landed before him. "You may watch your dearest until I have what I want. Two lovers always together but always apart."

With no hint of the emotions inside, he said in a flat voice, "You cruel, cruel woman."

A shadow of menace wiped away her smile. "Do not mock me!" She leaned close, studying him with uncertainty in her eyes. Her hot breath blew across his face. "She will come, or the other will die."

In a plume of fire, she vanished.

Calli would die anyway, if Lusiradrol had her way.

But he might not.

The web of her spell around him clarified in his mind as if someone showed him the way to break it. He followed the threads and unraveled them one-by-one.

* * *

Damn the mage! Something had changed. A greater power taunted her more than his tongue. Maddening! She needed space from him.

Lusiradrol stood in the shadows of the corridor hidden by magic as the magi had been from mortal eyes, watching Vahrik supervise his guards to secure the immobile woodsman.

"Chain him with the strongest you have."

Four young soldiers lifted Darius over their heads and carried the frozen figure off.

The princess could not refuse to come now. The man who had rescued her, the mage who helped defeat Lusiradrol's dark magic, would lure her to Wynmere. The girls had been best friends, and the man even closer to the one protecting the spirit of her nemesis. She would come for him.

Until then, Lusiradrol would wait. Her backup plan continued.

Once Vahrik stood alone, she stepped from the shadows but the boy hardly flinched.

"Back so soon? Have you killed him already?"

"The torture of watching loved ones suffer while you can do nothing is a pleasure I'll not deny him." She faked confidence for the sake of her game piece. Something had touched her through the magic this time in her encounter with the dark-haired mage. Familiar but faint, it touched a part of her that possessed a hatred unmatched. It may have been there before, but she had been too preoccupied to notice.

He could die and save her further trouble.

"So, he lives. May I have him now?"

"Do as you wish, but keep the other, Darius, alive. He is the key to the one we desire. She will not come if she feels his death but must think she can rescue him." And the dragons would likely show him to her with their magic. How could the heart resist?

Lusiradrol focused on the boy before her, insignificant in every way but useful for a while. The pest would be squashed like a bug soon enough. "One other thing."

Vahrik crossed his arms, all hints of amusement gone.

How entertaining to watch you perish, little lord. Running her hands up the boy's arms with her body close to his, she teased him into relaxing. How long had it been since Tyrkam learned to see through her seductions? Vahrik had far to go.

"You may have your way with the princess after I have what I want."

"It may work. But if she fails to come?"

"Kill him." She backed into the shadows, certain he would carry out her plans.

_______________

# Istaria

Against a backdrop of gray clouds, Istaria raced across the dreamscape. Try as she might, her feet could not move fast enough to catch up to Darius. He faded from her grasp, calling to her in a voice growing fainter every second. She stumbled on something and fell.

She continued to fall through darkness.

Istaria snapped her eyes open to the quiet bedroom. The cold place where Darius usually slept left her with the same empty feeling as every morning since his departure with Jayson. Darius had manipulated her into staying while he returned to the First Realm. She hated him for that, but she missed him so much her heart ached.

Tears welled up in her eyes. She reached across to the pillow and pulled it near, a poor substitute for the security of his body next to her.

The child tumbled and kicked against her lungs and ribs, making her wince. Sleep would be slow in coming now that he was restless.

You've all the right to reprimand me for such thoughts. She laid her hand over her belly, taking comfort in the activity.

At dawn's illumination of the objects in the room, she realized she would have to crawl from bed soon. Even if she could fall back to sleep, Gayleana's cooking would draw her out. Her throat burned more often than not for laying down so long anyway. The fresh bread and fruits helped to ease her discomfort.

At the thought of Gayleana's baking, she swore her nose detected the scent of fresh bread.

Istaria sniffed. Confirmation upset her empty stomach and alleviated the effects of the dream. She threw off the covers and made the ungainly adjustment of rolling over. The bulge of baby shifted within her and let out a jab that knocked the air from her lungs.

While she sat with her legs hanging off the bed, the last image of Darius flashed before her, his panicked call echoing through her head. That call to her had been one of pain.

The dragons could not communicate over long distances, which was why they used Gaispar as their messenger. But perhaps the power bestowed upon Istaria by the white dragon's spirit was greater. Perhaps Darius's love reached her despite the distance. She hoped not, if to deny the last images.

If the dream was a vision of tragedy to come to her dearest, she would never forgive herself for not trying to rescue him. He should never have gone.

Or maybe that was the problem and she was simply worrying too much. Fresh bread and a friendly face would help ease her mind.

After pulling on her shoes, she waddled down the stairs to the kitchen. The moment she pushed the door open to enter the kitchen, she froze, her thoughts of Darius scrambling at sight of the dark-haired man sitting at the table.

She recognized his presence, the twisted effect in the magic. The shapeshifter had finally chosen to reveal himself.

"A fine morning to you." Gayleana smiled at her from where she stood next to the brick oven.

All worries about Darius flew aside. Istaria looked from her aunt back to the man as the door swung closed behind her. He watched her, his blue eyes haunted by a deep sorrow underlying numerous atrocities.

"Bright morning to you, my lady." His deep voice ground the words with fatigue. "Forgive my impertinence. I thought you knew."

Her thoughts caught up, and Istaria took a seat across from him. Her eyes never left the broad shoulders beneath the simple earth-toned shirt—similar to what Jayson wore—or the strong, prominent features of his face.

You were the cat.

Gaispar had sent a warning with Sethirngal about a shapeshifter sent by Tyrkam. His presence as a cat had disarmed her sense of caution. Seeing him in his true form brought back the warning of Tyrkam's involvement in full force.

A smile curved up lips beneath a dark mustache. He inclined his head in a slight bow of acknowledgement.

"Decided to join us after all," Gayleana said while pulling a lightly browned loaf from the oven. The embers of a fire glowed red from within, their warmth reaching Istaria. Gayleana forced a smile, but Istaria recognized the subtleties of her uncertainty as clearly as she would have on her mother's face.

The stranger sipped his tea, seemingly unconcerned.

Uncertain what to say to the shapeshifter, Istaria turned her attention to Gayleana's cooking. I thought I smelled fresh bread.

Gayleana set the loaf on the table and handed her a knife. "I knew you could not resist."

Steam rose from the end piece she cut from the loaf. The scent made her stomach gurgle and her mouth water. After picking it up carefully to avoid burning herself, she put the bread to her lips and blew away some of the heat. When she could no longer resist, she bit into the fresh bread.

"Feel better?"

Much better. A bit of sweetness made her melt in pleasure. Gayleana had added her secret ingredient again. Istaria could have eaten the whole loaf.

Without warning, the door pushed open. All faces looked up to Damaera, who stopped in the doorway, her hair brushed neatly and her day clothes on already.

Damaera's eyes froze on the stranger, her frown chilling the room.

The man rose to his feet and bowed with all the grace of a courtier. "My lady."

Damaera stuck her chin up with regal poise. For several seconds she said nothing. A heartbeat later and still standing in the open door, she said, "What is your name?" Distrust tainted the authority of her tone.

The stranger's eyes hardened, but he made no move. His eyes flashed with annoyance, but it vanished a moment later, replaced by something yielding to her authority. "My name is Galen, my lady."

"Why did Tyrkam send you?"

Istaria stiffened. How could her mother be so bold? They had discussed questioning the shapeshifter, but this was neither the time nor the place for such an interrogation. Could her mother not eat without knowing? Did it bother her that much?

Galen's eyes bore into Damaera's, but she never flinched. Silence thickened in the air between the two in an invisible struggle.

The embers in the oven snapped, breaking the deadlock.

Galen took a deep breath and sat down again. "Would not a better question be why I've decided to appear to you?" With a casual air, he cut himself a slice of fresh bread and took a bite.

"Answer both," she said.

Galen swallowed a sip from his mug. "I expected as much. To answer the first, Tyrkam had not to send me. I came of my own interest."

"But you work for the man."

"My lady," Galen said and sat forward. "I work for no one but myself."

Damaera's lip twitched but she held back whatever thoughts worked in her mind. Istaria had some idea, if her mother thought as she. The man circumvented the intent of her question.

Galen leaned back and took another bite of the bread, chewed, and swallowed. "In the second, I grew weary of not using my true form, and wished to more fully appreciate the quality cooking." His eyes turned to Gayleana, whose cheeks reddened. "I have not eaten as well since I left the Sh'lahmar."

Istaria gaped. You were one of the guards? I knew not that shapeshifters had the abilities needed. Only those with the ability to use magic were trained as the elite guards.

His smile gleamed with a dark secret that made her back away. Something in his eyes sent fear rippling through her. The baby tumbled and kicked in response.

"In general, no. But I've the rarest gift of any, my lady."

She reeled as if struck. You are afmajî serfeshâl! She had read of such persons in her studies in the crystal palace. Shapeshifters were an aberration of magic introduced by the neutral Majera, who had no form and could therefore take the shape of anything. Because of the non-gendered nature of the third part of the Majera, shapeshifters were sterile. Only a few were born into the whole of each generation as the forces of Light determined to make use of the gift. For one to have other powers was the most unique of gifts.

Surprise flitted across his face before he regained his composure. "The dragons taught you well."

Istaria acknowledged the compliment with a nod. The history recorded by the Unnamed One in the crystal palace had taught her well, more than any would know. She had not caught up in her learning, however, or she might have known about him in particular.

She knew about the changeling mage. When a shapeshifter was born with other abilities to use magic, he or she could do more than take on the form of other living creatures. Galen, whether he knew or not, could take the form of other people, including imitating their voices. It was a forbidden rule of shapeshifting—they could only take their own in human form—but the rare mage could break that rule.

They would have to be cautious, although she doubted he knew of his full abilities. From her reading by the Unnamed One and from what Darius told her, Haiberuk would not have taught him that.

Darius. His face flashed through her mind. Not the warm, gentle face she loved but one of pain from her dream. It tore her heart to see him suffer. She wished it was only a dream but dreaded the possibility of a vision, present or future.

Istaria reached up and grabbed her mother's arm.

Damaera tore her eyes from Galen, the hard anger replaced by soft concern. "What is it?"

Darius. Istaria took a deep breath and let it out to soothe the anxiety creeping back into her. I fear he and Jayson are in danger.

_______________

# Darius

Darius licked his lips and recognized the metallic taste of blood. One eye swelled shut and the shackles binding his wrists and ankles pinched. Still under Lusiradrol's wretched spell, he could not move. He no longer felt the whip burns or the slashes from the knife or the cold of the stones against his bare skin.

Through his good eye, Darius gazed at Vahrik, who stretched his fingers from the fist he had just used and smiled in satisfaction of the new injury he inflicted. It was as if causing pain was little more than a game to him.

The young torturer had asked no questions. After the guards slapped on the shackles and chains, Vahrik took his time, starting with stripping the clothes off Darius to expose him to the chill of the room.

"A shame." Vahrik wiped a shimmer of blood from his black gloves onto the armor of one of his guards as nonchalantly as if he shooed a pesky fly. "She said I should not kill you, when that is exactly what I wish. But I suppose she knows best how to lure the wench back here."

Darius's insides plummeted with the realization. Lusiradrol must have expected Istaria to see things like the dragons did and would never leave him to suffer. Although she could control her power, Istaria was still no match for the dragon woman. If she saw him in trouble, she would do all she could to rescue him.

They used him.

Darius groaned, praying for the escape of unconsciousness. The thought of what they would do to her sickened him.

"Ah! I see she was right." Vahrik straightened and motioned with a hand to the guards, who straightened at attention. "Then my work here is done...for now." He left with two of his guards.

If only to escape and return to Istaria before she followed the demands of her heart. It seemed Lusiradrol was determined to have her wish in spite of anything they could do, and he could do nothing at the moment.

A knot tightened in his stomach, but a single ray of hope shone in his core. Istaria's mother and aunt, both Lumathir, would realize the truth and keep her safe. They knew the stakes.

A sigh escaped through clenched teeth at the stinging across his upper body. Perhaps the dragons would return with the end of the rain in time to rescue them and allay any of Istaria's fears.

He would rather suffer a lifetime of brutal torture at the boy's hand than lose her and the child.

_______________

# Jayson

Only a few threads remained. Jayson let out a breath and shivered, chilled from the beads of sweat across his forehead. That no one thought to check on him yet was a relief, but each passing moment brought a greater sense of urgency.

If he could cut the ties of Lusiradrol's spell before anyone came, he could make his way to Darius and free him, if he lived.

No, Darius was not dead. Jayson refused to consider it. Darius must be alive. The dragon woman needed him to lure the princess. Lovely thoughts. She had given Darius to Vahrik for his amusement. Istaria would never forgive Jayson for any harm to the man she loved, and he would not blame her in the least.

Another part of the spell faded. Jayson opened his eyes for a second to gaze at Calli again. They had come to rescue her, but at a terrible cost. "We will free you."

"Not if I have any say."

His breath caught for a moment. He knew that voice.

Heavy steps stomped into the room. Jayson counted more than two sets of footfalls. Vahrik stopped between him and Calli.

When the boy caressed the crystal with his hand, a new emotion burned in Jayson, one he had never experienced. It coursed like acid through his veins. He longed to wipe the threatening smirk from the boy's face.

"I suppose you're the companion of this one who earned the respect of our soldiers." Vahrik leaned against the crystal with a casual air. "Or so she claims. I have no need of you. In fact, you're as much of a nuisance as her." He shrugged and stepped up to Jayson.

"Your loss," Jayson said with renewed confidence as the weakened spell fell apart around him. Like dried autumn leaves, it shattered beneath the weight of his magic. He flexed his fingers slightly. Good. He had full movement again, but Vahrik seemed oblivious. That would work to his advantage.

Malice flared in Vahrik's eyes a second before he pulled his sword and set it to Jayson's throat.

"Do not mock me!"

An instant before the boy pressed the point beneath his jaw, Jayson reacted with a spell that would not allow the sword to move further towards him. As with his breaking of Lusiradrol's magic, it came as if someone else controlled the power.

Vahrik's sword could not penetrate his flesh while he maintained the spell, but dropping his focus would drop the magic.

Frustrated, the boy shoved it with both hands. "Guards!"

Jayson knocked the blade aside with a swipe of his hand. Vahrik swung the sword in an arc, and Jayson stepped out of his way. Guards closed in on either side.

A smile spread across his face like a prod goading the boy to try again.

Before Vahrik could, Jayson cast the spell of invisibility and stepped back, out of reach of their weapons slashing and jabbing where he had stood. While Vahrik cursed his guards for reacting too slowly, Jayson took a last look at Calli.

We will be together again.

First, he had to find and free Darius. He would never forgive himself if the man came to harm.

Worse, Istaria would never forgive him.

_______________

# Gaispar

From the ceiling beam she clutched with bat's claws, Gaispar watched the short-lived fight.

A pity, she thought of Jayson's reluctance to attack. Besides sparing others the boy's ill temper, Jayson might have also saved the boy from himself; but part of her would have taken some pleasure in seeing him suffer. When one dealt with Lusiradrol, she left them in pain and suffering.

The young lord's frustration when Jayson disappeared would have to be enough.

Unfortunately, Jayson's vanishing act would make it difficult to find him. She was not strong enough to detect an invisible Son'tal.

Perhaps if she could find Darius...

Darius!

She fluttered from her perch to the floor and took the form of a mouse. No one would notice her pattering through the shadows and corners as one of any number of rodents.

Since arriving ahead of the freezing rain, she had observed Vahrik's dealings with the dragon woman and followed him to Calli. She discovered the two Sh'lahmar when they left their hiding in Makleor's tower. A clever place to hide, since he left it protected from intrusion and apparently used a spell similar to the Son'tal's to dispel any touch of outside magic.

The revelation of their presence was short-lived, however, as Jayson must have hidden them both a moment later. Not until Lusiradrol neutralized his power had Gaispar found them again.

Now, she could not follow Jayson, but she could sense Darius's presence and followed the ripples through the magic to him. Makleor had sent her to assist the men in rescuing the red-haired friend of the princess. If he had expected this trouble, she would not be surprised.

But they needed help escaping. More than a dozen of the Red Clan patrolled the area with more hidden in the ravine behind the castle. Only by hitching a ride on one of Vahrik's men had she found her way inside. How they would escape, she couldn't fathom.

Lusiradrol must have expected this to have called so many to the castle.

Gaispar swore silently and scurried through cracks and crevices in the stones, following the sense of Darius's presence in the magic.

But he was not alone. Two guards stood watch nearby.

Gaispar hurried to sneak behind the nearest.

"Nafrî." The familiar whisper came from above. Both guards collapsed to the floor. She scrambled to avoid being crushed beneath them and scurried through the door, which opened for her.

Jayson, she called, averting her eyes after catching a glimpse of the wall where Darius was chained.

The door closed with the snick of the catch. A second later, he dropped his spell and stood before her, his eyes fixed on Darius.

Gaispar stepped back and focused on her natural form.

Jayson said nothing, but his ashen face revealed the horror behind him.

She could not help but to turn to Darius shackled against the wall with his arms and legs splayed out. He stood naked against the cold stones, slash marks across his chest and limbs, his face purple and blotched. Blood caked where the wounds ran deepest, but a fresh, glimmering trail ran down between his legs.

With all that she had seen in more than three hundred years, Gaispar thought she could handle the image before her. Despite her best efforts, she ducked into a corner of the room, where the nausea overwhelmed her into heaving her stomach's contents.

Warm hands massaged her shoulders. "Stay here," he said, the words murmured through his teeth as if he fought back the same urge to vomit.

Behind her, the chains fell away, clanking against the stones. The shuffle of fabric and the faint slap of flesh made her squeeze her eyes shut. When the noise and her nausea subsided, she dared to look.

Jayson knelt next to the bedraggled form in his cloak upon the floor. "He's alive."

He put a hand on the still form. For a second another image, one of glowing beauty, enveloped Jayson. He lifted his hand away from Darius as if uncertain, then set it fully on him.

As if washed in the purest of water by the radiance emanating from Jayson, she found an inner peace. It rushed through her in a heartbeat and faded. When it vanished, her heart sank through the hollow spot inside her. She wished it had lasted even a second longer.

Jayson sat back and examined his hands.

Gaispar took a few steps to stand over the men and noted the slow and steady breathing from Darius's still body.

Jayson looked up at her, his brow furrowed. "I think I healed him." His tone questioned her, but she could only shrug. "But someone else..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head. "Never mind. Meet me at the tower." He scooped up Darius in his arms with a grunt and disappeared from her senses.

Hopefully Lusiradrol departed and would not interfere further, but Gaispar had a bad feeling the woman lurked nearby, watching and waiting like a cat preparing to pounce.

_______________

# Istaria

"You must stay here." Gayleana stood with her mother, both of them determined to stop her.

From the hill, she could see the cave on the other side of the portal to the First Realm. She longed to save Darius as he had saved her, but Gayleana's insistence and her mother's firm stance forbid her to leave the Second Realm. Another vision of Darius had appeared to her, this one gruesome and heart-wrenching. She could not stand by and watch him suffer. She had to do something.

Damaera shook her head, her eyes pleading for Istaria to stay. "Did he not warn you of the danger?"

Her teeth clenched on her objections. Darius's warning had thrown on a heavy coat of guilt. She placed both hands on her belly as the child poked and prodded from within. To keep one she loved she had to give up another.

It's not fair! Tears filled her eyes to soothe the burning.

Muscles tightened around her middle as had happened for the last few moon cycles. Her mother had assured her she would know when real contractions started, but with her worries of late, the false contractions increased, giving her one more worry to carry.

Gayleana rubbed her back, calming her. "I'll go."

What? No. She wouldn't lose Gayleana too.

"I'll take as many dragons as will join me. We'll free them, and soon Darius will be here again."

"You're certain?" Damaera asked.

"What else can we do to keep her from going?"

Damaera grimaced but nodded. "You're right."

Istaria breathed a little easier. She wished someone else could help them, but no one could. It had to be this way.

I will never forget your kindness. She wiped the moisture from her eyes and hugged her aunt in gratitude and dread of never seeing her again.

In some ways she was glad they stopped her, yet she had the power more power than all the others combined. She had the power of Gilthiel, the white dragon, at her disposal and the knowledge of the Majera. That was the reason she had to stay.

After a last glance at the portal through which her poor Darius suffered, Istaria let out a sigh and led the women back to the house.

Along the way, she glanced up at the dragons perched upon the crystal palace floating in the sky. Sunlight shimmered off their scales and broke into rainbows across the surface of the palace. They would gladly leave. Many of the younger adult drakes had expressed their anxiety to help rid the First Realm of the Red Clan and their leader. The five Elders had told them to wait.

The time for them to act had finally come. They would have their chance.

As the women crossed the bridge over the narrow stream, a blur zipped past. When it circled back and landed on the rail of the bridge, the familiar ripples in the magic made them all stop.

Jaren. What news have you? Seeing the drakin who had been taking news and messages between realms lightened her heart. She could only hope that he would bring better news than the visions.

He tilted his head in a birdlike pose and squawked. I bid you well, Lady. The others say a stranger arrived. I wish to meet him, to offer my greeting, if you've not an objection; although they said to watch him for harming you. Before your man friends left, Sethirngal bade me watch the area for trouble. He takes not kindly to distractions, like the crankarn blossoms when they are in full and a tasty treat my brothers and sisters—

Istaria put up a hand to stop him from another long story. Another time, Jaren. We know of the stranger. He revealed himself. At the approach of heavy steps, she looked up. Galen's imposing form stopped at the end of the bridge over the stream.

Startled, Jaren squeaked and fluttered up to her shoulder. Tiny claws pricked through her dress, clutching to her for balance. Istaria winced but made no effort to remove him.

I not like him, Lady. He is...wrong.

Then Jaren sensed it too. Jaren had not been around when they discussed the stranger and so was not influenced by their words. His reaction came purely from instinct, and she trusted it.

She would like to return to the crystal palace and the books kept by the Unnamed One, although it was too dangerous in her current state so close to the end. What would it say about Galen?

The shadow of something hidden hung over his visage. He would reveal himself sooner or later, of that she was certain. He could not hide his true purpose forever. Jaren's reaction had confirmed that it was not only her.

"Pardon my interruption, ladies." A hint of menace lurked in the tone of his voice. His eyes jumped from one to another before fixing on the drakin. "You must be the one called Jaren."

Jaren clawed his way behind her head and hissed at the man like a cat cornered with its hair on end.

Istaria untangled the tiny wing claws from her braided hair and stroked his back to soothe him. Help me keep a watch on him, she told the drakin in private.

Of course, I will. No harm from him will come to you.

With a smile, Istaria patted his head.

To Galen, she asked, What need have you?

Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth, but it took on a darker look with the calculating glint to his eyes. "I thought I might warn you, my lady, to leave the men. Set one foot through the portal and Lusiradrol shall have what she most desires—that child."

His words made her eyes burn. Once more she was reminded of the role of the child and her helplessness. He was right in what he said, but her heart ached for Darius.

Tears blurred her eyes. Say not such things! They will return.

The contraction stirred by her anger tightened around her, and she gripped her belly. Gentle hands rushed to help her.

"Istaria." Gayleana helped her stay balanced with an arm secure around her shoulders. "Worry not or this child will come too early. You must relax."

"Leave us!" The reprimanding tone of her mother's voice was directed at the man.

He bowed his head. "Forgive me. I wished not to see her in the hands of that dragon. I thought I could—"

"You've made things worse. Leave her!" The biting tone of Damaera's voice made the man flinch as if he'd been stricken.

With the easing of the contraction, Istaria stood upright again in all her regal poise, but fell short of her mother. Almost twenty-five years as a queen had taught Damaera Isolder how to give commands with only a look. Her mother had stood up to men whose presence inspired fear. For that Istaria admired her mother more than she would ever know.

Istaria smiled to Gayleana. Thank you.

Her aunt stepped back and frowned at the upright tail of the black cat bounding into the forest. "He had no right."

Istaria swallowed and caressed her belly as the child tumbled and bumped around inside her. Whether she liked it or not, Galen was right. But why did he warn her? If he was there on Tyrkam's orders, why would he wish to keep her there, where she was safe?

The black cat vanished into the trees.

"What is he after?"

Istaria turned to her mother, who gazed after the cat's disappearance.

"I've no liking of him," Gayleana said with a hint of caution. "Istaria...You'd best lie down and rest and try to forget your troubles. We'll bring them back alive. You have my promise as a Lumathir, and as your aunt."

Istaria smiled her gratitude. She could not have asked for better people to help her through these troubling times.

_______________

# Tahronen

Three red bodies drove sharp claws into the scales of a blue blur more than twice the size of any of the red. The echoing howl rattled through her with sorrow as the beasts plummeted from the sky.

"High Priestess."

Startled, Tahronen sucked in a deep breath. The horrible images of death faded, but their shadows on her emotions lingered.

A nudge on her shoulder and the voice made her look up to one of the teaching priestesses, a Nonathrea îrna. Tira's rounded face and skin tone darker than any Ayrulean identified her immediately as a native from Rivonia. She had come from the Ancient city of Narethal on the Rivon continent as an exchange of understanding between the Ayrulean and Caveshan cultures. Concern overshadowed the woman's visage.

"You screamed."

Images from the vision drifted before Tahronen's eyes as a shadow over the woman before her. She smiled to reassure her student and patted the hand on her shoulder. "A vision only."

"Danger it seems. Was it the nekreth?"

Tahronen shook her head, reflecting on the variety of images that had ended in the death of one of the elder drakes. She would almost prefer facing a nekreth than seeing the death of one of their children. "The dragons."

She considered all their creations to be children. It made no difference whether she gave birth to them or not, although the magi, as her direct descendants, would always have a special place in her heart.

"We're ready." Tira spoke with conviction, but she had spent a hundred years teaching with the Lumathir and was one of the strongest.

"That will not be necessary." The others were not ready like Tira. They knew not how to fight.

From the formation of both the Darklord and the Majera, both sides built up armies to fight their battles. Where had it all gone wrong?

An image flashed by that she had barely noticed during the vision. She saw Haiberuk at Wynmere, side by side with his Sh'lahmar. His presence was insubstantial, as if he hid, but she would recognize him anywhere. He was a part of her as she was of him with the other third of the Trinity.

Why would he wish to travel undisclosed? Lusiradrol could not hurt him, or not as she was currently. Although she could see her brother, she knew not his thoughts.

If the Majera were whole, they would have full connection to the Universe and all its forces. The answers would be clear. But that was not their fate. The force that created them had split them for a reason they knew not.

Perhaps the time had come to face Lusiradrol and her clan, for Tahronen to aid her brother and his remaining Sh'lahmar in their battle. But why did they fight? What had happened to lead to that vision? That he would not expose himself in the face of such a foe meant he waited. The child also had not appeared in her vision as it had previously. The events in this most recent vision would happen soon, before Gilthiel came into his power.

She looked up to Tira in her maroon robes. The priestess would not leave until directed to.

"Bring the others to my chambers." Tahronen rose to her feet from the soft pillows, knowing the priestess understood she meant to call a council meeting. As Haiberuk had his Council of Seven made up of his Sonthenîel talri, so she also had a council. The Council of Marnonathrea îrna was composed of those who mentored and guided the younger acolytes. Most trained at least ninety years with a few centuries to live yet. All wore the maroon robes of the highest level of training.

She would not allow Lusiradrol to take the lives of the noble dragons. She would protect her family like any mother did. That trait she had given them.

The women under her tutelage would do well without her. She would choose a successor for this group as she had with the other groups around the world. Although she could do more for their training, she had focused too long on the Euramai group. The nearness to the white dragon's resting place and the dormant nekreth had made that location the most important, until now.

Tira nodded and hurried away to carry out the request.

The sorrow of the vision faded with the distraction of recalling each of the teachers with their strengths and weaknesses. She had a successor to choose. Her time to leave them had come.

_______________

# Vahrik

Vahrik stomped down the corridors, four of his guards following close behind and wary of his temper. He'd lost the one called Jayson but could blame no one but the sorceress. While he could not lash out against her, lest he risk his own life, he could pound it out on others

That's what Darius was for. It mattered not what Lusiradrol wanted. The woodsman made an easy target, and one he despised.

When he emerged around the corner to where the two soldiers should have been guarding Darius, his rage boiled over.

No one guarded the lower room.

"Out of my way!" Vahrik barged through the door, sending it swinging on its hinges to slam into the wall on the other side.

The dim light through the windows highlighted empty shackles hanging on the bloody wall.

If he ever found Jayson, he would complete his torture on him. It had to be him. Who else had the power and the incentive to release Darius? Jayson had disappeared before his eyes.

He whirled on two of his guards who stepped inside with him. "Find them!"

"M'lord," one of the men said and rushed out. The other followed at his heels.

Fuming at the loss, Vahrik marched into the corridor behind them. Finding the men would likely prove useless, particularly if they had the power to make themselves invisible. Why did Lusiradrol let this happen? Why had she not stopped them from escaping? Did he not need at least Darius to lure the princess there?

The hurried steps of the guards vanished down the corridor, leaving only the echo of his steps and the murmur of distant voices.

Incompetent! How many of the men under his command were loyal yet to Tyrkam and sought to undermine him?

Perhaps he had made his move too soon. Patience was not his strength. He wanted power and he wanted it before Tyrkam could steal it away. Tyrkam would do it in a matter of time. His father was good at that, and with Dorjan gone to report to the overlord, Vahrik could expect trouble soon. He should never have trusted Lusiradrol.

His feet carried him outside, into the crisp air of late winter. A hint of spring touched the cool with a warmth that left the yard a sloppy mess. He sloshed through the mud toward the gate tower, ignoring the gazes of the servants, who hurried to avoid him.

Grinding his teeth on his frustrations, Vahrik climbed the stairs to the upper walk. At the top, he entered the tower and grabbed the nearest guard. "Keep an eye out for footprints that make themselves. We've thieves in the castle using magic."

Amusement played on the man's lips but dared not escape. The guard gave a nod and turned to another with him.

Vahrik left them to their doubts. When Jayson and Darius tried to escape over melting snow, these fools would understand.

Furious, he looked out to the forest. A large section of snow crunched nearby, as if something heavy settled onto it. Vahrik leaned on the balustrade to study the phenomenon as several of the guards murmured amongst themselves. He noted seven patches of crushed snow throughout the clearing. All bore the same telltale signs of an almost serpentine form with a great bulge in the middle and odd marks in a couple places on the outside.

"Been like this for a few days now," one of the men said.

From nothing, a small whirl of smoke drifted up.

Vahrik stiffened from the realization of what lied outside his door. He turned around to the keep crushed beneath the dragon's weight. Its image formed in his mind, and he compared what he recalled of the dragon's size to the size of the odd snow indentations. Had they the power of invisibility also?

A sinister laugh carried over the breeze to him, chilling his core.

Dragons! More precisely, her dragons, the fearsome red ones his men had reported seeing. Why had she sent them? How many watched him? What did she want?

Bad enough Darius and Jayson than her beasts.

Lusiradrol used him. The thought drove him mad with fury, and he drew his sword. Without consideration, he drove it into the chest of the nearest guard.

The man sputtered. The others hushed their whispers but dared not aid him.

Vahrik ignored them, seeing only the death of those who sought to destroy him. He trusted no one.

_______________

# Jayson

Jayson peered outside through a slit in the shutters. He needed no sight to feel their effect on the magic but wanted to see where they were. The dragons formed a barrier around the castle, and their mistress lingered somewhere nearby. The depressions in the snow confirmed it.

Now he knew the real reason Makleor had chosen the tower. They could see everything from that position. "We'll need more than parlor tricks and one large dragon to escape." Jayson turned from the window to the others.

Gaispar sat near the fire with Darius, helping him sit up to eat while he recovered. The wounds had been healed, but a night of rest would do more to aid his full recovery.

"Sethirngal should know."

One eyebrow lifted on Gaispar's face. "He will be one step ahead."

He had expected that. Now, he hoped the others also knew. Only an army of dragons would get them out of this. "Then we wait."

_______________

# Istaria

In the cool of early morning, Istaria stood on the soft grass in her bare feet. Never would she have dared in her old life to walk bare foot—no matter her discomfort—for fear of her mother's wrath for improper behavior. But this was a different world and she was no longer a princess, her mother no longer queen. They missed the luxuries, but the need for the many amenities they had in the palace faded with time.

Yet people still served them, caring for their basic needs. For that she was grateful. She knew not how to cook or clean or sew. She could not live without the support of others.

Istaria took a deep breath of the cool morning air and tilted her head back to watch the dragons glide high above. A few hundred dragons called Eyr Droc home. Of those, Gayleana had gathered twenty-two volunteers to join her in rescuing Darius and the others.

"Istaria!"

She followed the direction of the voice to her mother and frowned, imagining what must be going on in her mother's head.

Damaera strode toward her with purpose in each stride. Like Istaria, the former queen had forsaken the fancy dresses for basic fabrics meant more for cover than fashion, but in her poise and demeanor, Damaera Isolder could be mistaken for nothing less than royalty.

Damaera dropped her eyes to Istaria's bare feet and shook her head. "You should not wander far when your time is so near."

The house is close enough. In truth, Istaria had stopped on the hill across the stream, or about a third of the way to the portal. Or was that why her mother worried, that she might pursue the others to rescue Darius?

Be assured, mother, that I've no intention of leaving this place. Despite her words and Darius's warning, the temptation remained.

Damaera veiled her worry with a smile while her eyes betrayed her. "As you carried on about Darius, I fear your heart may overwhelm your head, my dear."

The talk of the one she loved more than her own life stirred the longing in her heart for his arms around her. To ease the burden, she hugged her mother close with her bulging bellow between them.

"They will return." Damaera spoke with a confidence Istaria knew her mother could not feel. Her mother hid her emotions well and embraced her with the same love in her arms as she had when Istaria was a child.

Keeping her voice low, Damaera spoke into Istaria's ear. "Stay away from Galen."

I know.

"He seems to care but his words are cheap."

He feels odd, Istaria said. The magic twisted around him in conflict. She could not identify why but it made her leery, no matter how congenial he tried to be.

"I agree." Damaera stepped away from the embrace and set one hand on Istaria's belly. "Please return...for all our sakes."

Istaria smiled and placed her hands over her mother's, moving it to where the baby kicked at the moment. At a tightening around her middle, she grimaced and clutched her mother's hand.

"The contractions," Damaera said. "I feel it. As it was for me. You will know when the time comes."

When the tightening of the muscles around her belly softened away, Istaria took a deep breath and let it out. In response, the baby threw a fit inside her.

I need to rest. Although she tried not to think of her friends, since it made the contractions stronger, she could not help herself. Her fear of losing Darius could not be shaken.

With her mother accompanying her, she enjoyed the cool grass beneath her feet on the walk back to the house.

Inside the house, Istaria headed for the kitchen. The aching and burning in her chest caused almost as much discomfort as the child kicking around. Eating frequently throughout the day helped relieve it.

At the kitchen door she hesitated. The disturbing twist of magic lingered beyond; Galen sat on the other side. Istaria looked back at her mother, who took a deep breath before nodding her head.

With her teeth clenched, Istaria pushed the door open.

"A fine morning to you, ladies." Galen's smile displayed more sincerity than she had ever seen from him. Either he practiced his act, or he actually was happy to see them.

"Why do you stay?" The harshness of Damaera's tone lashed like a whip, but Galen never flinched.

He met Damaera's gaze with steady resolve. "I can leave, but—" He paused and moved his eyes to Istaria. "I can help keep you from leaving."

If Tyrkam had sent him to take her back, why would he insist she stay there? For what other reason was he there if not for Tyrkam?

Why did the dragons allow him to stay? They could easily dispose of him or toss him back to the First Realm. That would save everyone the trouble.

"If you wish both, I can make a den near the portal."

Istaria swore he should have vaporized from the look her mother gave. "I'll have none of it! You're bad enough slinking about as you do."

"There's your answer." Galen lifted his mug for a swallow of tea with all the confidence that he had won the argument. When he finished, he left his empty mug on the table and rose to his feet. "Good day, ladies," he said and brushed past. He transformed in seconds to the black cat form he seemed to prefer.

"Foul beast." Her mother swore under her breath.

Istaria turned to her as she calmed, her shoulders dropping. At least he left.

Damaera smiled but said nothing.

I need food.

* * *

Istaria gazed out the tall window of her upper level bedroom, barefoot on the cold floor. The crescent moon rose above the forest outside, casting a faint light over that realm. She ran her fingers through her long cascade of white hair turned silver in the moonlight.

Her life would have run a different course if not for her finding the dragon heart as a child and awakening its keeper. The spirit protected her, however, and granted her a greater power than that which she inherited from her mother. Its intention had been to return to the world. No one had suspected he intended to be born human.

Her child would not be as any other child growing up. He would carry the burden of the world on his small shoulders.

But he would still be hers and Darius's child. That would never change. Only the spirit remained of the dragon.

For a change, the child was calm inside her, but her thoughts were troubled. Gayleana had left with the dragons days ago. With all luck they would reach Wynmere soon, being close to the mountains with the dragons moving swiftly. Istaria hoped they succeeded in bringing home Darius and Calli without losing anyone, but in war, there were no guarantees.

A familiar but unwanted presence approached.

Leave me!

A spike of magic behind her warned her of his change. She glanced over her shoulder at the tall, dark man standing in the doorway.

I said, 'Leave!'

"Forgive me, my lady." The creak of the floorboards warned her of his step forward. "I wished to speak to you in private."

Istaria whirled. She knew not what games he played, but he would not enter her chambers without her mother present.

He stopped inside the doorway.

Can you not hear me?!

The wan moonlight highlighted his thin smile. "The moonlight becomes you, the sun more so."

Her thoughts jumbled at his words. Did he compliment her? It mattered not. Flattery will gain you nothing, Mister Galen. Despite trying to sound angry, she could not.

"Darius knows not what he has. I've never set my eyes on as lovely an image." He made no move that she considered threatening.

Rather, he confused her. Darius knows exactly what I am. He never fails to tell me how he loves me. Her eyes stung as images floated through her mind of the man she loved. She longed for his touch, his company. He left for my sake, that I would not. He went to rescue my friend. Everyone has placed me above themselves. Not only Darius, but Calli, my brother—

In her private thoughts, she pictured Phelan and wished he could join them too. He had always cared for her, despite the many jests. But he was gone.

Tears flowed down her cheeks.

You have no place here! All the frustration of her heart flared. Get out! Get out of this house! Get out of this realm! I want no more of your 'kind' words!

She shoved him back.

As she did, a contraction cramped from her back around her sides to her belly with more pain than any that had come before. She grabbed the doorframe for support as the pain seized her in its grasp and stole her breath.

"My lady—"

She shoved away his hand. Leave me alone! She clenched her teeth as the worst came for what seemed an eternity.

In the midst of it, her mother's voice broke through, followed by the patter of feet. "Istaria!"

Gentle arms supported her.

Istaria looked up, breathing deeply the way Darius had taught her back when she had first twisted her ankle while fleeing Wynmere Castle.

Her mother's concern turned to rage at the man a step away. "You! What have you done?"

She missed his answer, but the pain faded, yielding to her relief. When it was gone, she stood upright, cursing Galen with a glare. She had the satisfaction of seeing him grimace slightly.

"Look what you've done!" Her mother understood.

The glimpse Istaria caught of his face, before her mother ushered her into the room and shut the door, haunted her afterwards. She swore a grin touched his lips. Was this a game to him?

"What was he doing?" Damaera's worried tone matched the contours of her face. Anger hardened her eyes. She brushed her hand over the cool tear streak on Istaria's cheek.

"Did he say something? Did he do something?"

Istaria shook her head and pulled her mother's hand away from her cheek. I hate him! She buried her face in her mother's shoulder and let the tears flow anew.

"I wish they would hurry back." Damaera set the candle on the dresser near the door and directed Istaria to the bed. "For now, I think it best if you lie down and try to sleep. Tomorrow will come too soon."

Istaria sat down and eased herself onto the bed while the child wiggled inside her.

Damaera sat on the edge of the bed, a frown on her face as she put a hand to the bulge. Istaria knew the look, the concern of something inevitable. She laid back, letting her head sink into the pillow.

"That contraction was not like the others. I saw that much on your face." She met Istaria's eyes, her throat flashing with a swallow.

Had her mother said what she thought? She put her hand over her mother's and squeezed it, afraid of the truth. How could she be ready for this now and with Darius in danger? This was the worst timing.

Damaera smiled and kissed her forehead. When she stood back, she pulled the covers up to Istaria's shoulders the same way she had done to her as a child. Istaria could not imagine not having her mother there at that time, when she needed her most.

Gratitude welled up inside her, pushing aside her fears. Thank you for staying. She grabbed her mother's hand and held it.

"I'm glad to be here, for you and him." Her eyes flicked to the bulge beneath the covers a second before she leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"Rest now. Sleep while you can."

Her mother's gentle caress smoothed her hair away, and she took the candle with her, leaving the room dark.

Istaria passed a hand over her belly as the thrill of holding her child and the fear of the unknown clashed within her.

After a last glance of the moonlit room, she rolled onto her side and tried to sleep.

_______________

# Tahronen

Tahronen stood amid the skeletons of trees barren from winter's edge. The remaining snow reflected the pale light of a full moon rising at the horizon. Spring was on its way, creeping over the land in a stealthy attack on the cold, resting season.

And the Lumathir had a new leader to guide them, freeing her to do what she must.

She adjusted the hood of her heavy mantle to block a bitter breeze gusting through the trees. It carried with it the voices of men, a large number of men. Through the flow of magic, she found them not far ahead. Why would an army be out in this cold? What would drive them to Wynmere Castle?

Through her meditations, she knew of Vahrik's takeover, but magic flowed about these men with a purpose. Not any magic, she realized, but one close to her heart. Tahronen dropped her eyes.

The men of the Second Race never learned. Even sons and fathers could not see through their own greed and sought to destroy one another. And her own child was involved. She would not interfere in his decision, but she wished he had considered his choices more carefully.

By corrupting the Second Race with the desire for power and the ability to kill even a friend, the Darklord had aided their growth, something the Majera had not foreseen. Many of the Second Race overcame their faults to grow stronger or let their passions drive them to unlimited heights of accomplishment. The same passions drove men to fight for freedom and champion the rights of those less fortunate. They were stronger than the First Race in many ways, yet weaker in others.

A gentle smile found its way to her face. Despite the imperfections, the Second Race had succeeded beyond the expectations of the Majera to thrive. Perhaps that was what attracted her to the lovers in the last age of the world. So much time had passed while raising her descendants and teaching them to follow the Light that she forgot them.

But the past was gone. Only Makleor, as he had chosen to call himself after his shame, remained of her direct children, the result of her last affair. He had more than suffered for his faults and knew it. The child of Istaria and Darius would release him from his penance when the work was complete. Tahronen would mourn his passing as she had the others, but he would always be with her and perhaps her most beloved.

If they succeeded in banishing Lusiradrol and her true dark spirit for good, a new age would begin, hopefully one in which the races could coexist in peace.

Lost in her thoughts, time passed in a blink for her. She found herself at the edge of the forest, gazing on the looming fortress of stone across the clearing. Lights flickered from a few windows, but most of the castle was dark, an ominous shadow blotting the landscape. It would not last long.

As she expected, the Red Clan filled the clearing, most of them sleeping, with a couple sitting up as sentries. Crossing the clearing would not be possible. They would feel her presence, whether she tried to mask it or not, had probably noticed her.

To one such as her, the situation posed no trouble, but she wished not to alert anyone of her presence. Makleor's tower would be the best place to hide.

He would have protections in place, whether he was there or not. She could not tell if he was there through the strong spell, but suspected he was with Tyrkam in Setheadroc since he used his magic for Tyrkam's benefit.

With the barest thought she stepped from the edge of the forest—

To the dark staircase of the tower outside his door. The spell set to keep intruders out posed no problem to her. She passed through the door without physical effort.

_______________

# Jayson

Jayson rubbed his eyes to no avail, since the brightness blinded him from inside. The light woke him from his sleep, alerting him to the arrival, while something inside him reached out, drawing him further from the depths of sleep.

No one kept watch in the security of Makleor's tower. From the silence thick in the room, he knew the others still slept.

Jayson's groggy mind tried to make sense of the change in the colors of magic, but the pieces shifted in a logical but complex pattern. When he opened his eyes, he saw her step through the closed door and thought he had passed into a dream. An inner light shone from within her, reminding him of Haiberuk.

From beneath the cowl, blue eyes on a young, radiant face met his but looked beyond, as if she sought something inside or behind him. Jayson closed his eyes to the image of feminine perfection, his thoughts drifting to Calli. It had to be a dream.

A second later, he opened one eye to see if the woman had vanished.

She put a finger to her lips.

I know who you are, she told him. The glow of the small fire across the room softened her features.

Jayson opened both eyes and sat up from his blankets.

She took a seat on a nearby chair without so much as a creak from the wood. The colors of magic brightened about her. Haiberuk had had the same effect on the magic. This had to be Tahronen, his sister Majera.

He could think of no one else. I am honored, my lady.

A smile brightened her face, and she pulled her hood off golden locks matching Haiberuk's.

Two armies linger outside the castle, she said.

Two armies? He assumed she meant the dragons as one, but who or what else was the other?

The other was sent by Tyrkam.

Jayson fought a smile and pictured Vahrik's fury when he saw his father's men invading. Tyrkam was no one's fool and would give no ground to those who sought to steal his power. Would Lusiradrol's beasts allow the attack and sit aside in amusement, or would they enjoy a feast?

This day will end in bloodshed. Her eyes dropped, and her smile fell into sorrow.

Is that why you've come? With a Majera helping them, they could not fail. He would take Calli away from this place and almost felt invincible knowing Tahronen would be with them. She would know how to break Lusiradrol's spell.

She shook her head in answer. I had a vision. I could not let the last of the Sh'lahmar, nor any of my dragons, die.

The cold shivered down his back. I'll not let me die either. The same applies to the others, of course. He certainly hoped to live through whatever happened, or at least he planned to.

She smiled with more cheer than he had seen from anyone for a long time.

Are the dragons coming? The weather must have cleared.

I know of some but cannot say how many. Her eyes gazed beyond him for a moment before focusing once more. Two of the elder drakes wait nearby.

Sethirngal?

I cannot say. Was he with you?

He brought us from Eyr Droc.

I see. How is Istaria? I assume Damaera and Gayleana arrived?

Jayson recalled the two women and the introductions. Sounds right. They arrived as we left.

The shuffle of movement alerted both to someone waking from behind a stack of books.

Gaispar sat upright, her eyes widening. "High Priestess!" Her voice squeaked with surprise. A second later, the shock fell to a puzzled frown. "You left the Lumathir?"

"In good hands, yes." Tahronen's gentle reprimand silenced any further questions. Her eyes passed over Darius, who slept soundly by the fire, before returning to Jayson.

"Let him sleep." Jayson indicated Darius with a lift of his chin. "He suffered enough."

She nodded and sat back in the chair. "Rest, both of you, before the day comes. You'll need it."

Without a word, Jayson laid down, but his heart raced with expectations, keeping his mind alert and chasing off sleep. Majera, dragons, Tyrkam's army, the Red Clan, Lusiradrol...

This was not an escape.

This was the eve of battle, one that would ignite a war.

_______________

# Gayleana

The wind whistled past Gayleana and sent shivers through her as she clung to the low ridges of Anthârgal's back. As one of the older dragons and the offspring of Sethirngal, the one Istaria described as her teacher, he bore the greatest respect of the young drakes. When he asked for a few volunteers, he received more than they hoped.

They glided on air currents, high in the sky where they cast no discernable shadow over the land. Anthârgal led the chevron formation presently, although they rotated as the leader tired.

The magnitude of their power overwhelmed her when they connected themselves with magic. Only once had she experienced anything similar, when the Lumathir joined with Tahronen to hold off Lusiradrol.

If only the dragons had come to their rescue then! They would have defeated Lusiradrol and the dragons with her. The mountain would still stand and Euramai would not be in ruins. At least the gardens had been saved.

Gayleana blew on her freezing fingers to warm them while huddled over the bony ridge in front of her. She could hardly wait to be rid of the wind chilling her. The warmth of the dragon's internal fires wasn't hardly enough to dispel the cold.

Maybe she should have stayed in Eyr Droc with Damaera. She could at least have helped with Galen.

A smile crept out with the thought. Galen would gain nothing from her, except a good shove through the portal.

Before her mind strayed further, Anthârgal angled down in a gentle slope.

Gayleana risked a glance over his side. The forest spread out below them as they emerged from the scattered clouds.

She sat upright to see past the dragon's spiked crest, her eyes on the fortress looming in the distance. The clean-cut lines against the orange, eastern sky broke the rough, natural landscape.

When Anthârgal shifted his head to the left, she followed his eyes. In the distance, three more dragons approached. With the lighter hues of dawn, she made out one green that outsized both the gold and the blue dragons with it. Their wings beat the air in their haste to join the formation.

Are these the elder drakes? she asked.

Three of five I see alive.

Not returned are the others yet;

they know not where their travels get.

Just as well. The dragon's rhyming sounded strange but made her realize why the legends always described them speaking in riddles.

She caught movement among the trees below, but they flew too high for her to fix on it with any clarity. What is that?

Men of Tyrkam, I would guess.

Horses and uniforms no less.

The men below moved at a fast pace, but the dragons outraced them. Wynmere Castle drew close, but a sea of red filled the void between the fortress and the trees.

Her heart ran cold when she realized the full extent of their troubles. Had she known what awaited them, she would have stayed in Eyr Droc. Tahronen's training had not prepared her for this. I thought this was a rescue.

A different, calmer voice entered her head:

The rescue is the main event,

but the leader of her kind has sent

this challenge to her enemies

with hope to bring us to our knees.

We must face our foe at last

from times long gone and ages past

Keep in mind the task at hand

is not the death of this band.

Later will the war be fought

and then the worst will yet be sought.

With renewed vigor, Anthârgal beat his wings and let out a deafening roar. His body trembled beneath her. A chorus of battle cries arose from the group.

If the Red Clan had not yet seen them, they certainly heard them coming.

_______________

# Lusiradrol

A dark line spread across the horizon, the sight of up and down movement of giant wings sending a thrill through Lusiradrol's body. The battle cry of the dragons rumbled through the air. It had been too long since they last battled.

While standing on the head of one of her sisters, she waited for them. The anticipation of her clan thickened around her. They shifted their wings and gathered their legs beneath them for takeoff.

"Patience." On the ground her clan was vulnerable, but in the air they could outmaneuver the larger dragons. They could also overwhelm the dragons in numbers, but they would do best to wait a little longer and save their strength.

The shapes of the individual dragons grew clear with their approach. Her powers flared with her desires to destroy them. She knew not how many waited in Eyr Droc, but crushing those who came here would aid her ultimate plans of destroying them.

Memories like those of her recent visions drifted up with a surge of power. The darkness inside her heart grew with her ambitions. The moment for battle arrived. "Fly now! Kill them all!"

Except for her mount, the others sprang into the air, beating their wings into a frenzy of wind about her. A wall of red lifted off the ground and headed for the enemy with a single purpose in mind.

"Now for other affairs." She smirked from the satisfaction of seeing her plans in action. When her sister dropped her head, she stepped off. The dragon's bloodlust reached her as the others closed the gap to engage the group of dragons.

"Join them." The words were unnecessary. The dragon sprang into the air the moment she stepped back, its yellow eyes gleaming with hatred.

That would take care of the dragons. She would not need to guide them further.

Now she could take care of her other affair.

In a blink, she stood in the shadows of the room where the crystallized Calli stood. She only had to wait. The dragons would battle each other while the humans fought amongst themselves.

The Sh'lahmar were hers.

_______________

# Jayson

Through the crack in the shutters, Jayson watched with wonder the spectacle in the sky. The Dragon Wars had been told as a short summary to him and the other boys growing up. He had imagined the clash of the giants but not like this.

Without regard to the drafty windows, he unlatched the shutters and threw them open. Darius and Gaispar loomed over his shoulders, all of them watching in silence as the Red Clan raced at their foe, the gap between them closing fast.

"The time has come." Tahronen's cool voice bore a hint of sadness. "Follow me."

Although her timing could have waited, Jayson found reassurance in her words. She had warned that, while she knew where to find Calli, she dared not transport them all there for fear of Lusiradrol's magic causing damaging consequences. They would have to walk. This would be the best time to pass through the castle, while the dragons distracted the Red Clan and the soldiers.

They turned from the window as she opened the door.

Gaispar followed without hesitation.

Jayson exchanged looks with Darius, who gave a nod and followed the women. After a last glance out the window at the dragons not yet on each other, Jayson hurried out after the others.

_______________

# Vahrik

Running steps clattered through the hall and halted behind him. Vahrik turned from his advisor.

"Milord." The soldier fought to catch his breath and belatedly bowed his head.

Finally, they showed their respect. "Speak."

The man's eyes widened on a pale face. "Milord." He trembled. "The dragons—They flew off."

"What?" Vahrik balled his fingers into a fist with the full intent of thrashing the man. "Why?"

"I know not, but she commanded them."

Why would Lusiradrol send her dragons away? Why now? He expected she would use them to capture the intruders.

"DRAGONS!"

The shout rang through the hall as another soldier raced in.

"Other dragons are fighting those that appeared outside the castle!"

The words pierced Vahrik's focus. Was that her reason for sending them up? His thoughts scattered, all attention removed from the man before him.

With his advisor and servants close behind, Vahrik stomped across the hall to the door. An ear-shattering wail pierced the air.

As he reached the open door, a blast of wind knocked him back. Two large bodies swooped up after narrowly missing the keep. One of Lusiradrol's dragons fled from a larger dragon of a light emerald color.

Vahrik stood with the others in awe of the spectacle in the skies. Dragons careened after one another with amazing aerial acrobatics.

Two of the beasts locked claws, the red and blue matched in size, each the equal of the other. Together they spiraled toward the castle.

"Milord, I think it safest—"

Vahrik waved the advisor's words away. Lusiradrol's dragons would not risk the castle while she was inside. At least, he assumed she lingered somewhere inside...hoped she was inside.

Faster the two fell, locked in a combat of teeth and claws.

Vahrik swallowed. They grew larger with their straight plummet towards him. Even if he wanted to, he could not escape a crash. The leviathans would crush everything and everyone.

His heart pounded to run while his head doubted he would survive if he tried. He stood with the others and watched in morbid fascination.

The red and blue screeched at one another. As Vahrik expected them to hit, they separated and spread their wings.

A gust of wind knocked the men off their feet. From the rumble of dropping stones, he knew that the red rubbed hard against the already weakened keep.

The stones crashed on the ground where they had stood.

Satisfaction filled Vahrik at the strength of the alliance he had formed. Tyrkam would not have the power to stop him.

_______________

# Damaera

Damaera scowled at the man peering through the crack in the door. He had no right to be in the room. This was a woman's job.

She rushed from Istaria's bedside to the door and slammed it in his face. When the rustle of covers alerted her to Istaria's movements, she hurried back to her daughter and took her hand.

Istaria squeezed her hand, her face scrunched in agony.

"Calming breaths." She had learned from delivering her own children how best to alleviate the pain.

Istaria followed her directions, breathing deeply and letting it out, and repeating until the tightening of the labor passed. She breathed deeply and sank into the pillows. I'm so tired.

Wishing she could take away the discomfort for her child, Damaera smoothed the hair from her face. "The worst is yet to come, my dear, but it will all be worthwhile in the end." The nursemaids had told her the same when she gave birth to her firstborn, Phelan. She knew Istaria could not fully comprehend in the midst of labor, but it would become clear in the end, when she held her child in her arms for the first time.

Blue eyes now red with fatigue fixed on her with a weak smile. The labor had started the night before but not until morning had the contractions increased enough for her attention.

"Rest while you can."

Istaria closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.

Good. Damaera reached down to the bucket of water and wrung out the cloth before setting the cool compress to Istaria's forehead. At least she could provide comfort in this time, if she could not do more.

I wish Darius were here.

Istaria's weak contact as she faded into a light sleep brought a frown to Damaera's lips. She wished Darius and the others would return too. In fact, they should have been back already.

Something must have happened to them. Istaria was right about that.

Now, their only hope was Gayleana and the dragons.

_______________

# Gayleana

Gayleana clutched the ridge of Anthârgal's back as he spiraled and dove to avoid the red dragon's clawed feet. Her stomach lurched at the sudden adjustment of Anthârgal righting himself.

I need ground beneath my feet, she told him.

While he moved with care and skill to avoid the red dragons, she could do no good from his back. In fact, he engaged in no entanglements. He would do better without her, and she would feel better on solid ground.

Where wish you upon the ground,

when war is waged all around?

At his words, she dared a look down. An army of men raced across the clearing to the castle, while the guards on the wall stared upwards. The ground was no safer than the air.

Anthârgal jerked.

Before Gayleana could ask what happened, the shriek trembling through him rattled through her, making her clench her teeth. From the corner of her eyes, she caught sight of one of the red dragons behind them, its teeth clamped on Anthârgal's tail. Together, they tumbled over, Anthârgal trying to catch the other.

Gayleana clutched to the green dragon with all her strength as they plummeted from the sky.

_______________

# Vahrik

When several guards fell from the walk, Vahrik tore his eyes from the battle waged in the sky. The thump of bodies hitting the ground preceded several others stumbling upon the walk. He found the reason soon enough in the arrow shafts sticking out of their chests.

Another man faltered back and fell from the walk onto the roof of a shop. He rolled to the ground, spooking the horses hitched nearby.

While the yard filled with voices calling for defenses against an attack, Vahrik ducked inside to avoid a rain of arrows. He would not risk his life but would watch from the security of a room beyond the reach of the invaders.

Calls rang through the castle.

Men rushed to the gates with heavy posts and wagons to set up a blockade.

Others raced up the steps to the top of the walls to take posts vacated by those who fell.

Vahrik stepped back into the hall, away from the commotion. While the guards inside clattered across the floor, he marched for the steps to the upper levels.

With one foot upon the steps, another thought struck him. This was a coordinated attack. Only one person he knew had the power to make that happen.

"Lusiradrol!" She had no loyalty to him over any other. It had to be her.

He redirected his steps to a side door and raced down the corridors into the darker, unoccupied areas to where the prisoner was held.

_______________

# Jayson

Any opposition they faced fell before them. Tahronen's magic set many to slumber, disabling them but not harming them. With Darius and Gaispar, he followed her through the dark corridors of the first level. They reached a nondescript door hiding in a nook set off from the corridor, the door through which he had exited to escape Vahrik after unraveling Lusiradrol's spell. The door of the room where Calli was held in a block of crystal.

Now, a heavy timber bolted the door shut. He and Darius pushed it aside without a problem. They could save Calli. This might work! His heart jumped from his chest.

But the dark cloud that passed over cooled his excitement.

Without touching the door, Tahronen sent it swinging open. They followed her inside, Jayson a step behind Tahronen and ready to face the dark woman within.

Lusiradrol stood before the block of crystal.

"Majera!" The sinister voice hissed the name as a curse. "How dare you show yourself!" She waved her arm.

With the others, Jayson flew through the air and slammed into the wall, except Tahronen who remained unmoved. The crack of his skull against the stone made him wince, and spots danced before his eyes.

"I will not be defeated like that." The calm of Tahronen's voice carried a hint of threat.

Jayson knelt forward and risked lifting his head in time to see Lusiradrol shrivel amid the fading spots in his vision.

"Hurry!" Tahronen took his hand. With more strength than he thought possible from such a petite woman, she yanked him to his feet. But, as he recalled, she was no woman. She was Light, one of the two forces battling over control of their world, and had no physical limitations.

Already on his feet, Darius helped Gaispar.

The black-clad woman grew and stretched into her full form.

"Stay close," Tahronen said.

The forces of magic rushed about them in a flash of colors, which faded a moment after it started. Jayson gasped in surprise.

When he breathed again, they stood at the edge of the forest with Calli beside them still in her prison. The clamor of battle rose at the castle while the roar of dragons filled the air.

"Fools! I will not be defeated by tricks!"

Tahronen whirled, her hands before her. Lusiradrol's magic had no effect.

While keeping her eyes on the woman stalking their way, Tahronen directed her words over her shoulder. "Call for the dragons. I'll keep her busy."

Lusiradrol threw a ball of lightening at the Majera.

Jayson jumped back with the others as it encompassed Tahronen, remembering at the last second her order. He could not pick out any single dragon to contact but caught Gaispar's eyes. "Do it!"

She gave a nod and threw her arms up to transform. As a hawk, she took flight toward the melee above.

A few seconds later, the trap around Tahronen dissipated. She stood unmoved, her lips forming a rueful smile. Around her feet, her robes waved gently in a gust of wind.

The gust lifted Lusiradrol high into the air before releasing her to fall to the ground.

Jayson frowned as the dark-spirited woman vanished before hitting.

"Nice try."

With an instinct trained into him, Jayson grabbed Darius's wrist and muttered the words to protect them. The moment he did, Darius opened himself, lending his power to enforce the shield.

All their lives training to defend against such an attack gave them a reflex reaction. They were the elite guards, now as before. In the back of his mind, Jayson swore not to allow her to pass through again.

A heartbeat later, the woman directed her attack at the crystal next to them. Tahronen joined him on the other side, lending her power to him. Jayson gasped at the brilliance of magic coursing through him.

Lusiradrol tried to break through and failed. She continued her assault of magic, but nothing had any effect.

Jayson flashed back to her attack on him and the others at the vault. If Haiberuk and Tahronen had the same power, he could have stopped her without any effort. Why had he not? Had he wanted her to free her clan?

Jayson frowned at the disturbing thoughts. Why would Haiberuk allow such darkness to spread over the world?

As if sensing his confusion, Tahronen turned to him, a knowing smile on her face. She squeezed his hand. Yield not to such thoughts.

The warmth of her being brushed aside his concerns, flowing like a warm current to envelope him in its contentment.

Lusiradrol ceased her attack with a growl. "The war has only begun!" In a plume of fire, she vanished.

With the immediate battle over, Jayson released the hands of those he held.

But Tahronen gripped his hand yet. He met her eyes, trapped in an intense stare that penetrated his core for a few fleeting seconds. Then, as if nothing had happened, she released his hand.

Jayson said nothing, realizing she must have had her reasons. Hopefully she would explain later, although, if she was anything like her brother, that might never happen.

"She's not gone."

Jayson blinked away the thoughts at the sound of Darius's voice and followed his eyes to the sky.

One of the red wyverns rose above the fighting, a black speck on its back. Before their eyes, the Red Clan reorganized their attack.

The answer hit Jayson like the stone wall in the castle. "She's directing them."

"Can we do nothing?" Darius asked.

Tahronen watched in silence, her concentration focused above.

In that moment, Jayson caught movement around the castle. Across the clearing, the fighting intensified between those inside the castle and those without. Men scrambled up ropes and ladders as those above fired arrows and tossed stones down. At the gate, the slow and steady boom of a ram thundered over the noise.

None of the invaders cared about them, or so it seemed. The three of them and Calli stood at the edge of the forest outside the range of either battle.

_______________

# Gayleana

Gayleana relaxed when Anthârgal righted himself from his dizzying dive. They rose above the battle after a dragon of a rich jade color bit through the neck of the red dragon on Anthârgal's tail.

The other dragon suggested they fly out of the tangle for her sake. No others pursued them.

The dragons that had followed her from Eyr Droc outnumbered the Red Clan and they used their advantage.

Now, with Lusiradrol in command of the battle, the Red Clan fought with greater ferocity than before. They also took on the other dragons in groups.

But that left others free to help their brethren.

Free of the Red Clan, Sethirngal flew up beside them.

This battle is almost won.

Other business have I, undone.

When a hawk flew up and landed between the ridges of his spine, Gayleana frowned. The moment the bird transformed into a woman, she realized the truth. "Another one?"

"Where have you seen him?" The woman's words left no room for argument.

Him? Did she know about Galen? Gayleana opened her mouth but closed it as a thought raced by. "Who are you?"

This one is messenger to all the lands.

Our trust have we placed in her hands.

Sethirngal spoke with a soothing tone, but his words carried a deeper meaning. Realization struck like a jolt of magic that she had seen the hawk in Tahronen's quarters but had assumed Tahronen merely kept the bird for her own purposes.

The other woman smiled. "Now you know." Her attention turned to the dragon she rode, and she patted his scales. "The high priestess requests assistance."

Before she could ask, Sethirngal dove from the sky. Anthârgal followed in his sire's wake.

Relief poured through Gayleana. At last, solid ground! She swore she would not ride off on a dragon so eagerly next time; her sister was right.

_______________

# Jayson

The two dragons landed hard. The vibrations rattled through Jayson's legs. He glanced aside at Darius, whose smile said enough. Darius would be with Istaria soon.

And he, Jayson, would have Calli, if she escaped her prison of crystal.

From the smaller of the two dragons, a familiar woman stepped down. When she reached the ground, she knelt down on hands and knees. Darius and Jayson both rushed to help her, but she brushed them off. "I'm fine, just...glad to be on solid ground."

"Had some rough flying?" Jayson could only imagine the excitement. What he wouldn't give to have switched places.

She gave him a dirty look. Without a word she stood and dusted herself. Afterwards, her eyes fixed on Tahronen and she bowed her head. "High Priestess." She frowned. "Why are you here?"

"To protect my children...all of them." Her eyes passed over them with a look revealing a secret waiting inside.

If she was anything like Haiberuk, she would tell them what they needed when they needed. No more; no less. The Majera had no reason to explain themselves to mere mortals.

When Tahronen's gaze fixed on Sethirngal, the dragon spoke.

What honor may we bear

of the first and most fair?

Before she could answer, a red and blue projectile plummeted from the sky behind her.

"Darmîndren!" Gaispar gasped. Sethirngal rose beneath her.

Jayson ducked with the others to avoid the crushing blow of Sethirngal's large wings. When he could safely stand again, he saw the problem. Three red wyverns attached to the large blue dragon. Darmîndren let out a howl of pain that tore at his heart.

The dragon knew his fate. Sethirngal would not reach him in time to prevent the fatal drop.

As if bumped, the cluster of dragons shifted. Jayson glanced aside and realized by the focus of Tahronen's eyes that she had nudged them directly over the castle, likely in a futile effort to break the fall.

Men scattered from the castle.

"You interfered."

"I know." A tear glinted from her cheek. By her tone and the tears, she wished to do more but dared not.

The beasts crashed into the fortress with a resounding boom that sent debris and a cloud of dust into the air.

Slowly, the thunder faded, while they waited in quiet expectation. Even the men fighting stopped.

_______________

# Istaria

Pain squeezed her middle and burned between her legs. Istaria held her breath, waiting for it to pass, but the second it faded, the pain and pressure started again.

"Breathe! You must not hold your breath like that!" Her mother's voice snapped her to attention and she inhaled and exhaled.

I cannot do this! Why could the whole thing not be done with already? No one had told her about this. She wanted nothing less than to sleep. The labor tired her, weakened her.

"Yes, you can! I did it—twice!"

More gently, her mother said, "Believe in yourself, Istaria. Breathe and try to relax. You're almost done."

As she took another breath, the pain faded. What seemed like one long contraction ended. She struggled to catch her breath. Her heart pounded against her chest. Her eyes weighed a ton and she let them close. Just for a minute...

A soothing hand brushed her cheek. The trickle of water reached her through the haze of exhaustion.

She swore she had just fallen asleep when a contraction unlike any other pulled her from her rest and squeezed her in agony. She remembered where she was all at once and gave in to the urge to bear down with all her strength. A new pain pressed and ached with her efforts.

"Good! Remember to breathe."

The contraction faded, and she breathed easier. But the short break had given her new strength to keep going.

"Keep it up." The soothing voice of her mother encouraged her to continue, despite her exhaustion and the discomfort. "You're doing wonderful, Istaria."

She looked down at the smile on her mother's face and almost cried with emotions at the connection between them during this difficult time. All her life she thought her mother had feared her. Since her abduction and their reunion, everything had changed.

Before any tears welled up, another contraction started. She pushed hard with her mother reminding her to breathe and encouraging her.

For what seemed an eternity, the pattern continued, the pressure growing stronger each time.

All at once, in the midst of pushing, the worst of it ended and relief poured into her. She fell back on her pillow, her head dizzy with exhaustion. A new sound broke through, her baby's first cries and the weeping of her mother.

Her emotions overwhelmed her, sending a torrent of tears from her eyes. It doubled when her mother set him on her chest. She heard none of the screaming nor did she care that he was still wet. She cradled him in her arms, until her mother threw a blanket over him and wrapped it around the slimy body.

The crying lessened as her mother wrapped him tight.

With him bundled in her arms, Istaria stroked his tiny head. In that moment all the pain and effort washed away.

"I love you," Istaria whispered and kissed his forehead.

_______________

# Jayson

Amid the dust and debris of what had been Wynmere Castle, a blue tail rose into the air and slapped down. Red wings stirred. Stones ground together with the shifting of the leviathans. A spiked blue head rose from the mess, followed by a mound of blue body.

No sooner did the dragon stand than he collapsed again. A shimmer of light radiated from the old dragon and dissolved into the air.

The wave of magic passed through them. Jayson caught his breath at the immensity of the power.

One of the wyverns shook itself and looked around, its jaw open and hanging down, dazed but not dying.

Sethirngal, who had looped around them when he failed to reach them in time, dove at the beast. He caught the wyvern's neck in his jaws and lifted it up, clamping down hard as he carried off his prey. The wyvern fell limp and a steady stream of oily black flowed down its neck as the magic of the beast sparked and sputtered in release.

Jayson turned away to the others with him. At the sorrow in Tahronen's eyes, he swallowed.

"It happened too fast." The words were inadequate to what she must be feeling. The Majera had created the dragons first. Judging on the size, that had been one of the elder drakes.

She flashed a grateful smile and took a deep breath as if to exhale the sorrow before the tears started.

When he looked up again, Sethirngal returned to them, black blood staining his green scales. The surviving men from the fight fled into the forest.

When Sethirngal turned his gaze upwards, Jayson caught the flight of receding Red Clan survivors. Several of the younger blue and green drakes pursued them.

* * *

Jayson gazed on the hidden entrance to the cavern and swallowed. The day had brought defeat with their victory.

All for one person. Calli stood in the same pose as that fateful day along their journey. He would do it again, with or without the help of the others, but he was grateful they stood by him.

A pat on his shoulder drew his eyes to Darius. Despite the pain the excursion had caused the man, he still smiled. "We did it."

Jayson nodded with a false smile that fell into a grimace. "But at what cost?" They had lost one of the elder drakes. Tahronen had interfered, and if Nekrâos did emerge, he could use that as an excuse to act directly.

Darius had also suffered in taking the brunt of Vahrik's torture.

Tahronen turned from the cavern to face them. "Had you not followed your heart, the cost would be greater...to everyone."

He wanted to say that it was his heart Lusiradrol had used to cause this mess in the first place but clamped his jaw and nodded. Arguing with one of the Creators was unwise.

She said nothing but guided the crystal block forward on air. She levitated it without a hint of the power she used, as she had transported them.

They followed in silence. The past several days had taken their toll on his emotions, and he welcomed the coming quiet of the Second Realm.

_______________

# Jayson

Jayson sat in the clearing, staring at the crystal and its prisoner. The openness of the Second Realm, untouched by the Darklord, dispelled his guilt but could not ease the pain of his heart.

The drakin played their games along the edge of the meadow, showing no remorse, only the joy of living in each moment. How he wished he could feel the same!

Somewhere beyond, the dragons mourned the loss of the elder and honored him in their own way. Darmîndren would not soon be forgotten.

All for you, he said, thinking back to the events of twelve days ago. Since then, Gaispar had returned to the First Realm for news, and the dragons confirmed that she had reached Makleor. The old mage now knew about events at Wynmere.

No one knew what had become of Vahrik. News could not yet have reached Tyrkam of the battle and the death of his son.

A faint smile touched his lips at the thought. The dragons had given Tyrkam what he sent his army to accomplish—the boy's defeat.

At least Istaria and the child were safe, although she was not to be seen, except by the women. She stayed in her room, tending to the infant. Darius had only been allowed in when she insisted, from what Jayson had been told.

Jayson had seen little of anyone, except when they brought food to him and told him what they knew in an effort to cheer him. He had not left Calli's side. Like the other times fate was unkind to her, he stayed by her.

After a brief rest, he prepared for another session of meditation to unravel the magic binding Calli. He tried to find the link to breaking the spell, but it never came. He could not feel his way through this magic as he had with the spell she used on him in the castle. This was different, more powerful than anything he had encountered before.

Soft footsteps swished through the grass. From the colors stirring about her, he knew who stopped behind him. That she would be out surprised him. Without turning he said, "I thought you were under lock and key."

"Tahronen's on my side."

He smiled and opened his mouth to speak when reality struck him hard that he didn't recognize the voice as he did her presence.

Jayson jumped to his feet. "My lady!"

Istaria's smile warmed his soul, her laugh like music to his ears. "Thank you, Jayson."

"I—I'm honored." His mind reeled with questions. "How?"

"It returned when he was born." She looked down at the bundle sleeping in her arms.

Jayson stepped closer and peeked at the infant nestled within the blankets. "Gilthiel." His heart lightened at the thought. The child slept with such innocence and comfort in her arms that Jayson could not imagine him possessing the powerful spirit of the white dragon. In her arms lay the hopes of all, the prophecy made real.

"Gilthiel," Istaria repeated as if tasting something favorable. The infant smiled in his sleep for a fleeting moment.

She returned her attention to Jayson. "You should rest. She would not think less of you."

"Thank you, my lady." Seeing the child brought hope to his heart. "But my place is here."

She smiled, but it fell when her eyes fixed on Calli. "Cannot even Tahronen free her?"

He followed her eyes and shook his head. "Nothing. She said that without Lusiradrol, only Calli could free herself. I know not how that will happen. She knows no magic, but that of her sword."

Both of them stood in silent contemplation, until the child fussed in Istaria's arms and she bounced him gently.

"Go," he said. "Take care of him."

With a quick smile, she hurried away.

Jayson returned to Calli's side and stood with his forehead against the crystal.

"You have to try," he said, wishing she could hear him. "Only you have the power."

He tried to send his thoughts and his feelings, but what he thought was contact slipped away. Disheartened, he slid down and sat with his knees bent and pressed against the crystal with his forehead.

Perhaps through the focus of meditation, he would find that contact. He closed his eyes and shut out all distractions—the drakin squawking, the wind rushing through the grass and trees, the distant roar of a dragon. It all faded to the background where it belonged.

Through the magic within him, he reached into the spell encasing her. Like a bug caught in a web, her presence hung suspended in time. He reached for her, hoping to draw her attention.

Every time he reached out to touch her, another strand of the web strung up in his way. As with the other times he tried, the spell blocked him at every turn, but he refused to give up.

Calli, he called. Hear me. Wake up! You must wake up. Call upon the power of the sword. Use it.

The spell blocked his reach. As his persistence waned, he let the magic fade. For an instant before he opened his eyes, he thought she looked back at him in his mind.

"Wake up." With his eyes fixed on the crystal, he murmured the plea again and reached a hand to the faceted side.

He breathed deeply of the refreshing air and let it out slowly, closing his eyes to rest. The Second Realm was nothing but a hole, a small fragment of the First Realm, but it had never known the touch of the kind of darkness Nekrâos had brought to the First Realm. It should strengthen Calli.

A nearby cracking could not penetrate the gloom over his mind. Not until it multiplied did he sit back with the realization that it came from within the crystal.

Faults zigzagged throughout the crystal, and Jayson scrambled backwards. His heart leapt out of his chest. She had heard him!

More importantly—she found the power in herself to break the spell!

The cracks spread to the edge in a network of sharp corners, like a sky full of lightning.

All at once, the crystal shattered, and the force of it knocked him to his back. Shards of crystal scattered through the clearing and faded into nothing. He gazed in wonder at the figure standing in the same pose as she had within the crystal.

When she fell forward, he jumped to catch her. Jayson rolled Calli to her back and pulled the scarf from her face. Hazel eyes blinked up at him with a fragile smile.

"Jayson," she breathed and fell into unconsciousness.

After confirming she lived, Jayson scooped her into his arms. She had freed herself.

"Calli." His voice cracked with the tears flowing despite his will to hold them back. He held her close, afraid to let her go.

* * *

Continued in FIREBLOOD

*

# Other Books by Melanie Nilles/M. A. Nilles:

LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON

LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: PROPHECY

LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: LEGENDS

LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: LEGACIES

LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: FIREBLOOD

LEGEND OF THE WHITE DRAGON: DESTINY

DEMON AGE

TIGER BORN

(Demon Age Book 1)

SPIRIT BLADE

(Demon Age Book 2)

THE LURIEL CYCLE TRILOGY

AWAKENING

(The Luriel Cycle Book 1)

ENLIGHTENMENT

(The Luriel Cycle Book 2)

ETERNAL

(The Luriel Cycle Book 3)

STARFIRE ANGELS

DARK ANGEL CHRONICLES, THE COMPLETE SERIES (ebook):

Starfire Angels (Book 1)

Broken Wings (Book 2)

Crystal Tomb (Book 3)

Origins of Dark Angel (Book 4)

Forever Dark (Book 5)

Also available as individual ebooks and paperbacks

WHEN ANGELS CRY *

(A Starfire Angels Novella)

SORIEL

(Starfire Angels: Revelations Book 1)

DECEPTION **

(Starfire Angels: Revelation 1.5)

PHANTOMS

(Starfire Angels: Revelations Book 2)

SHARDS *

(Starfire Angels: Revelations 2.1)

NEMESIS

(Starfire Angels: Revelations Book 3)

ADRONIS SERIES

AT THE WATER'S EDGE *

(Adronis #1)

BENEATH THE CRASHING WAVES *

(Adronis #2)

OTHER BOOKS

A TURN OF CURSES **

ILLUSIONS OF TRUTH *

* indicates novellas

** indicates novelettes

*

# About the Author

M.A. Nilles is the more serious side of Melanie Nilles, who is an avid animal lover. She resides with her husband and kids, and a clowder of cats who take advantage of their human slaves for food and warm laps. An equestrian of over thirty years, Melanie has ridden in various disciplines from cattle work to dressage, learning equine body work and massage along the way. She continues to pursue her equine interests in her free time. On the writing side of her life, she has published many works as Melanie Nilles, including the young adult Starfire Angels series, new adult Adronis novellas, the Luriel Cycle trilogy, and others. As M. A. Nilles, she publishes darker adult science fiction and fantasy, including Tiger Born and Spirit Blade and the Starfire Angels: Revelations and Starfire Angels: Forgotten Worlds series. For updates, visit her website at www.melanienilles.com.

Thank you for reading

