 
# THE MELDLING

## First Novel of the Daemonva

### Claire Ryan

#### Copyright © 2015 Claire Ryan  
All Rights Reserved.  
ISBN: 978-0-9881008-2-4

www.claireryanauthor.com

Cover art by Katrianna Anderson  
senekha.deviantart.com

For Denis  
<3

## I'm on Twitter

@aetherlev

Follow me on Twitter for updates on my books, nonsense about swordplay, assorted silliness, and the occasional rant. 

## Contents

The Waking Darkness

A Name

Into the Light

The Camp in the Woods

Earthbound Kindness

Birds and Leaves

Daemonva

The Shape of Death

Night Whispers

The Measure of Her

Introductions

The Land Remembers

Heart-names

Ride by Starlight

Sword and Lightning

Little Victories

The Honor of Daemons

The Deepen Passes

Laughter and Love

Memory Echoes

A Break in the Trod

Daemonic Strength

Flight

The City's Welcome

A Daemon in Bastion

Serendipity

Finding Jaydanna

The Distant Nine

Spires of Halca

Sunekhar's Orders

Last of the Daemon-Ra

Remember Us

Snows of Avarone

A Promise

Oshrak's Counsel

The Battle of Bastion

Maransa's Fate

Epilogue

Next in the Series

About the Author

## Chapter One

### The Waking Darkness

She opened her eyes, as if there was anything to see in the darkness of the hole in which she had been left to rot. There was never enough light to see, even with her enhanced vision; her other senses filled in the gap left by sight. The smell of damp and mold clashed with a vague undertone of burnt straw. The sound of dripping came from somewhere to the far left, and the rumble of... something, some machinery, from behind the wall at her back. Numbness. Her skin felt nothing, her mouth tasted of nothing. Her body, already at the edge of complete failure, could not transmit much to her fragmented mind.

The wall. Very cold. Something of her body was not dead yet. She moved, weakly, and heard the faint clink of the chains around her wrists. Something... she remembered a feeling, of open air and sunlight and breezes, and wind flowing around her body, and...

Wings. Her wings, and flight through open skies. The few shreds of memory flickered in her mind and faded in and out like a lighthouse in a storm. She could not trust them. Memories were fickle and nebulous; sometimes she almost knew who she was, and other times her mind was nothing but a deadened void. But these memories were compelling, and enticed her with the wavering thread of light and hope in this dark pit.

She moved again, and there was a brief needle of pain in her back. The memories scattered as she tried to make sense of this new feeling, tried to make her tortured nerves work again. Another memory blossomed in her mind. Wings, her wings, spread behind her body which was chained hands and feet to the wall. Muscles ached, stretched and stiff, with the effort of holding her upright. Long metal spikes were driven through the delicate membranes, pinning down her wings and staking her to the cold stone. The rust flaked in the congealed wounds, and her dried black blood streaked down her body and stained the flagstones. A brief, aching flash of sensation rippled through her limbs, and the memory coalesced into reality.

He had staked her to the wall by her wings.

## Chapter Two

### A Name

Eternity passed. Her mind flickered with faint memories, rising and falling like leaves on the wind. She saw warriors, battles, great armies clashing and breaking over each other like ocean waves; then gardens, children playing, and joy in their eyes when they turned to look back at her. Images and feelings whirled through her aimlessly, surging like the tide and falling away to nothing. Maybe she had slept, when her mind darkened and all time and sensation was lost for a while.

Her captor returned.

A faint glimpse of light breaking through the darkness was the first sign. It grew slowly, flickering like a torch, through a stone archway off to her right. She could not turn her head to see more.

The servant was the first to appear. He—though it could have been an 'it'—was barely four feet tall, with long, crooked arms. His face was scarred, with patches of discolored skin and stitches running across his cheek and over his forehead. He carried a point of light, dancing on his palm, and the brightness of it burned into her eyes like molten metal. The pain, like all sensation, was fleeting, and she did not have the will to embrace it or struggle against it. Her limbs did not obey her anymore.

They had come many times before, and she had resisted, once, but nothing had changed. The torture was endless. The visits blurred together, and time itself was meaningless here.

There was no question that her captor was a man. He followed behind his servant, with a large, ornate book tucked under his arm, and he wore the same robes of silk and finery, with embroidered symbols and arcane incantations.. His face was thin and clean-shaven, and his hair was short. He moved with purpose, but he did not look at her.

The book was opened, and placed in front of him. It hung in the air, without a stand or a table, as if it were tethered to him. He spoke a few incantations, and faintly glowing symbols rose from its pages. A few of them drifted towards her, and sank into her skin. She did not feel them.

He began to ask her questions. She did not answer; she had no strength to speak, and her broken mind could not understand what he wanted to know. He quickly became angry and struck her with magic and his own small dagger, while the servant held up the light for his master and drooled all over his ragged vest. She watched the motion of the drip of saliva, and his empty, lifeless, unknowing eyes. The pain was a distant line of red in her battered psyche. It had been some time since he had truly been able to hurt her.

The robed man stopped. Maybe there was something she could have said, something she could have told him that would have ended all this and let her finally pass into the afterlife. But he was already turning away to his servant, and all that came out of her mouth was a faint hiss of air. There was no respite, no final cut to release her pathetic existence. He only looked at her with a bizarre expression of annoyance and frustration, and leaned forward to examine her bloodshot eyes.

"Sunekhar," he growled under his breath, with a hint of purest contempt. As he turned away, the memory flared in her mind like a candle in a darkened hall. A face, huge and leering, laughing as she struggled madly against bonds that would not break, even with her own incredible strength. _Sunekhar_ , the face jeered at her. _How the mighty have fallen._

But her name was not Sunekhar. It was a false name, belonging to someone else, someone on the edge of her mind, with eyes as black as blood.

Her name, Suzanna. Her blood... black as her blood... as black as... as black as... black as night... not her blood...

And the memory collapsed and was gone, leaving only the certainty that her name was Suzanna. In the twisted and fractured plane of her consciousness, she latched onto this one thing, this rock in the storm-tossed expanse of recollection. Her body ached with red lines of pain that streaked over her chest and across her face, but this certainty blotted them from her mind. _I am Suzanna. Remember this. Suzanna._ She had grey skin, short white hair, and once she had drifted through an endless sky on broad, strong wings.

And now there was no void. When her memory failed, and the endless nothing threatened to darken her mind for good, the certainty held it back. She drew strength from it, and the pain began to fade away.

He watched her carefully, but she simply hung, motionless, from the wicked spikes in her wings. Then he snapped angrily at his servant, and stamped out of the room. She saw a brief outline of the stone archway before the light was gone, and the darkness engulfed her again.

The certainty remained, and the emptiness was a little less severe.

## Chapter Three

### Into the Light

Noise. Shouts. Clashes of metal on metal, and metal on stone, and metal on meaty flesh. Screams of the dying. It was like a dream, or one of her memories, and it was only when there was a faint light in the archway that she realized it was real. She tasted the sharp acidic tang of blood in the air; not human, not her. Bad blood. The image of the servant rose questioningly in her mind, and for a moment she remembered the thin thread of drool hanging from the thickened lip, the vacant expression of imbecility.

The light grew stronger. It fluttered, faded, grew with the sounds of battle, and it was more yellow than the white point of light carried by the servant. There was a single loud scream of pain, and she saw a thin splash of red stain the side of the doorway. The light became more constant, then became a torch, followed by a hand in a blood-splattered gauntlet.

The knight was tall and rugged, and his armor was silver-grey. The helmet was low and practical, the visor covering his eyes and nose. He moved cautiously, with the torch held high and a sword thick with flesh and fluid in his other gauntlet. She noticed the plates of the armor, and how cunningly they overlapped and flexed to allow him to move. They were washed in the blood of the dead, and his every step left a footprint of thick ichor.

He exclaimed in surprise as soon as he saw her, and stepped half-out of the room to shout at someone farther away. She watched the torch, and how little glowing bits of ash constantly fell from it and sizzled to nothing on the damp floor. She felt a small gleam of hope that this man, this knight, might do what the man in the fine robes would not, and strike her down.

More came, all garbed as he was. Three stood around her, torches in hand, staring in wonder and fear. The light hurt her eyes, but she was too weak to care. She could not move, could not speak, could not do anything but hang there pathetically, battered and naked.

There was some commotion outside now, and the crunching sound of many metal-clad feet came closer and closer. She watched, eyes half-lidded, as a knight in quite beautiful armor appeared in the doorway.

His helmet had a crest of eagles and little jagged lightning bolts engraved into it. His sword was jeweled and covered in scrollwork in gold and silver. He even had a cloak thrown over one shoulder, over his shining armor that sparkled in the yellow torchlight. Runes and magical glyphs jumped out at her, and dully she knew what they meant; protection, wisdom, strength.

One of the lesser knights came forward and, with an air of someone handling an dangerous animal, he grabbed her chin and lifted her head. It did not occur to her to resist the action. She saw more now, at this new angle; the roof was old, damp stone, and there was a hole in the corner by the roof where the water dripped in. It was dripping now. The water drops were falling on one of the knights' helmets, and then running down his armor and out of sight. They left a channel of clear metal in the blood.

The leader, if he was such, took a torch from one of his men and leaned forward, peering at her. His expression was grave and serious as his face drew close to hers, seemingly searching for something in her half-dead frame. He had blue eyes.

Somewhere in her memory, his eyes stirred a feeling. She knew him. He made her think of light, and happiness. There was no doubt in her mind that he was a good man, unlike her captor, and she was glad—so very, very glad—to see him.

The torch sputtered and crackled again, and a fleck of ash drifted from it to her cheek. She flinched instinctively, though the action felt rough and painful.

He leapt back with a cry of surprise, and suddenly the knights drew their swords and faced her with deep fear and suspicion. Her head was dropped and hung again; the little fleck of ash burned on her cheek before the heat faded from it. They were terrified of her. She wondered in the depths of her fractured mind why they were so fearful of someone who could not even move unaided. She wondered if they would leave her here to the darkness and the madness.

The leader came forward himself, and she felt the cold metal of his gauntlet around her throat. He lifted her head, looking into her eyes again, and she blinked slowly and painfully. More than anything else, she wanted to tell him her name, but her voice was still lost to her. She made her lips move in the shape of her name, and hoped that it was enough.

He frowned at her. Then his eyes became hard, his face was set, and he began to call out orders.

She was confused, as they began to break the chains around her hands and feet, then there was no time or thought for confusion as they pulled out the spikes that nailed her wings to the wall. She had thought that she had long since lost all feeling in them, and she was wrong. She was very, very wrong.

The first spike went beyond agonizing. It slid out with a wet sound, and she felt a gush of blood flow down the tattered membrane. She had no memory of when it had been hammered through her wing, but she would never forget the experience of it being removed. Then another came out, and another, and another, and the pain turned into an oppressive force that tore through her soul as well as her body. There was no release from it, no hiding from it; she would have given anything to scream, but the pain seized her throat and stole her breath away. She sobbed pitifully, and even found the strength to shake her head.

The knights were very wary of her, and when she let out a whimper of pain, they nearly dropped her. As the last of the spikes came loose, she toppled forward, and the leader of the knights caught her. Something gave way, as if a spell were finally broken. The world spun before her eyes, every joint aching with the release of her limbs, and she felt a rush of freedom—of long awaited flight. The agony began to subside.

They folded her wings with care, and lifted up her body. She wanted to curl in on herself, and fall further into unconsciousness, but the needling pain in her back kept her awake. Their leader still barked orders at his men, and one pulled the cloak from his shoulder. She was wrapped into it, and found herself being carried out of the dark cell.

It felt surreal. They carried her along corridors she did not remember ever seeing before, of grey, grimy stone, and dark-red brazier lights. They marched past rooms she could not look into properly, but where a thin line of dried blood ran out across the floor. She saw bodies, some contorted and twisted in their death-throes; she saw a knight drag his sword out of one and flick a spray of liquid from the blade. They kept moving on, upwards and through thin steep staircases that were splashed with steaming blood.

There were more lights up ahead. They passed through a single stone arch, and she was blinded by magical lights that danced across her vision in waves of flickering color. The pain was a lance, a dagger into her eyeballs, but it faded slowly. The room came into focus; it was a large, expensively furnished library, with beautiful leather armchairs, soft rugs and high shelves of hundreds of books. There was a single long table in the centre of the room where a few books lay open and one or two magical apparatuses clicked and whirred.

The magical lights danced erratically near the ceiling, causing the shadows to shift and waver eerily. She watched them move with a deep fascination. They were little more than lanterns, but her time in the dark made them look as bright as the sun.

The knights lifted her carefully onto a makeshift stretcher. They were moving her faster now, and with more caution than it seemed was necessary. She was brought out of the library, through a long corridor with a floor of polished marble, past the occasional body. The ones below had been like the servant; misshapen, garbed in ragged clothes, and almost insensible. Those she saw here were men and women, all with unnaturally pale skin, all clothed in the same white robe. She knew, somehow, that they were more like puppets than actual people.

Everywhere she looked, there were broken doors, shattered furniture, and splashes of blood. This was a house, then, maybe even a mansion, and it appeared that the battle was over. She could not remember anything about this place; no fragment telling of how she came here or why. Like a slate washed clean, her memories had nothing but a few vague feelings of her life before the dungeon, and before the pain.

There was still certainty. Her name was Suzanna. The knowledge was a small and humble pebble in the vast and empty void of her mind, but she held onto it tightly. This was her anchor, her light in the darkness.

They carried her outside through a solid iron-bound oak door, and it was clear that it was night time. She smelled the acrid scent of sweat and earth and horses, and heard their stamping and neighing. There were other men nearby talking, their words a low and somehow comforting hum. But what held her attention was the sky, that opened up above her like a flower opening to the sun.

The stars twinkled in the firmament, and they went on forever. The sky curved down to the horizon, far away, and the stars faded into the last orange and red of sunset. She could almost feel it calling her to leap from the earth and drift freely again, held aloft only by the strength of her wings. Again the memories rose in her mind, and she felt the wind in her face and the simple pleasure of flying on the breeze with the world at her feet.

The feeling was so powerful she sighed in happiness.

The stretcher was placed on the ground for a moment. She was lifted up and put in front of their leader on his horse. From her high vantage point, she could see the enormous stone tower behind them; presumably that had been her prison for so long. It was built on a rise, and surrounded by woodlands, and it rose into the sky as if it had been grown instead of built. All she could do was watch, listen, smell, and hear; the sensations came fast and thick now that she had been pulled out of the darkness of the dungeon beneath it.

The horses drew her attention. Most were dark brown and black in the moonlight, their hides shining with sweat. They smelled earthy, pungent. She could hear them snorting and huffing as they trotted on, ears forward and alert. Maybe they had been ridden hard. Maybe they had been involved in the battle, although she could not think how horses would fight with people. It seemed odd to her, that she knew the answers to some of her own questions as if by instinct, and others remained a mystery.

They rode downhill, and almost immediately entered the wood. Her sky was swallowed up by the trees above them, and she could only catch glimpses of it. The knights moved in formation around the one who carried her. They looked at the dark undergrowth around them with hard eyes and careful low movements, watching for something she could not guess at. The night was cold but quiet as they moved through the wood. No rustle of animals, no chirping of crickets; precious little around except for the column of knights and her. She had imagined that they were an army, but all she could see was twenty armored men at most.

She moved a little in the cloak, testing her limbs. The knight drew his arms around her and held her tightly; it felt warm, comforting, and she could not remember what comfort she had ever had before this night. Her arms and legs were feeble, her wings were all but paralyzed. Perhaps he was still afraid of her, but he did not show it. Only his eyes, behind the metal guard of his helmet, betrayed a coldness that could only mean he was more cautious than he should be.

She summoned the strength to move her head, and tried to look behind her. He said something, muffled by the helmet, but the meaning was clear – she should not move at all. She accepted this. She felt no fear of them, nor did she wonder what they would do to her. Whatever it might be, it could not be worse than what she had already suffered.

The woods continued, and the night wore on. She laid her head down, against the chilly metal of his breastplate, and the gentle motion of the horse lulled her to sleep.

## Chapter Four

### The Camp in the Woods

Suzanna half-woke, and the light was much brighter than she remembered. Behind closed eyes, she relished the feeling of remembrance; of having something, even as simple as a memory from the night before, to think about and mull over and... remember. The blankness of her mind now had a tiny corner filled with color and sound. The horses, and the knights, and being carried from the dungeon, and the feel of the journey, and falling asleep contented and almost happy. It was so small, so humble, but it was precious to her.

Something about her release had changed everything. The release of her wings, and the breaking of the chains, had set more than her body free. Her mind was still fractured, but she could almost trace the shape of what it would be like to be whole again.

She felt the movement of the knight who held her, and felt the motion of the horse as it stopped. They had arrived, apparently.

She opened her eyes, and again the light was a lance in her head. Her vision could not adapt, not after months – years? – of pitch black darkness. She winced, and whimpered, and finally struggled to lift her hands and cover her face. Her muscles were as weak as water, but they still moved, and they held the promise that someday they would heal.

She was stopped. Strong hands caught hers, and held them back from her face. She tried to shake her head, but she had no strength or coordination to do so. There were voices around her, but there was no no compassion in them; they were urgent and harsh, and she could feel more hands restraining her as she was lifted from the horse. Maybe they thought that she was trying to cast a spell. Their paranoia was overwhelming.

She understood nothing of what they said. There were words, and a few held some hint of familiarity, but it was as if she were trying to listen to a conversation from a distance. Like the man in the robes, their speech had some meaning that escaped her while her mind was too broken to grasp it. She felt as if she would be able to understand, however, given time, but that would not help her if she needed them to understand right now.

One voice commanded the others, and they fell silent. Their leader took charge once again. There was a moment of quiet, and she was passed over to another man, presumably another knight. She was held, carefully and gently, with one arm supporting her limp torso and another grasping her legs. The fingers around her wrists loosened, and let her go.

Suzanna shakily lifted her hands. There was barely any feeling in them, but they moved. After so long chained, they shook as if she were a newborn who had not yet learned how to make them work at all. Her fingers were cramped and crippled, and would not respond to any attempt to flex. She gently covered her eyes, holding her coiled fists to her face as the pain began to fade and her vision finally began to change.

She only saw blurs, lights, and blobs of color at first. There were vague shapes that may have been men and horses, and larger shapes that looked like sheets of cloth. There was a haze over everything, of after-images and double-vision, as she experienced sunlight for the first time in many months. She forced her eyes to stay open, and kept trying to look through the cracks in her fingers. They adjusted slowly, and the blurry scene started to come into focus. The troop of knights had arrived in a small camp in the woods. There was a line of tents, maybe ten in all, a fire pit surrounded by logs, and a larger tent off to one side.

She was carried towards the larger tent. The rough, earthy-smelling cloth swished past her arm, and the feeling of the breeze on her face and the odor of the horses was muted instantly. Her tortured eyes adjusted, and she let her hands fall away from her face.

There was little on the beaten ground, save for an odd kind of camp bed and a box in the corner. The grass here was worn down in the middle; they had been here some time. The tent was white, maybe canvas, and there was a large symbol on each wall of a idealized sword with strikes of lightning surrounding it.

The box was being used as a small writing desk. Neat coils of parchment sat beside it in a sackcloth bag. There was a large quill, made from some vividly red feather, lying on top and underneath that a tiny glass vial of ink. The bed was covered in thick fur blankets that she recognized as bearskin. She was carried to it, and they were soft and warm. Maybe she had felt something softer in her lifetime, but she had nothing for comparison and after the bleakness of the dungeon it was a blessing to rest her battered body.

She could not imagine what a bear looked like, but she knew the softness of its coat.

The cloak was taken away, and the furs pulled over her. She watched the knight who had carried her roll it up and leave it tidily at the end of the bed. He carefully made sure that she was completely covered, tucked her wings away to the side. He glanced at her face, and still his eyes were wary and guarded behind the visor.

Suzanna tried to speak. Her breath hissed in her mouth, and a faint croak came from her atrophied vocal cords. The knight stopped. She tried again, and ignored the ache in her throat and forced the words to come. It was difficult forming them, difficult remembering them, but she managed to whisper hoarsely "Thank you", not caring if this man could understand her.

She could not see his eyes, but his motions were more uncertain. Maybe he had understood. Maybe tomorrow she would learn more about the men who had brought her out of the darkness.

## Chapter Five

### Earthbound Kindness

She slept. The pain had returned with the feeling in her limbs, and moving even a finger was agonizing. It felt like only a few hours, and the light outside was dim again. She watched the tent flap moving in the breeze, and her heart ached to be outside again in the cool air. How long would it take for her body to heal from starvation and injury, if they allowed her to heal at all? She could not be sure. At the very least, she knew that she was resilient.

A tall man in white and red vestments appeared with some bread and water. He was bearded and almost bald, and his hair was white and speckled with grey. He moved carefully around, staying away from her if he could, but his eyes were kind. He had no weapon, no armor, and there was nothing hostile in his actions, though she wondered briefly why he was still so cautious of her. His vestments had the same crest, of a sword with stylized lightning bolts.

He pushed the water skin over to her, and laid the bread on a square of cloth on the ground beside the bed. Then he stepped back, and waited expectantly.

Suzanna watched his movements, then gazed at the food. She didn't know if she was hungry. She knew, dimly, that she had not eaten in a long time, and her body was long since past the notion of hunger or thirst. In a vague way, she recognized that she probably needed the meagre stuff, but there was no feeling of urgency. She was more interested in this man, who was obviously not a knight like the others. She also could not lift herself to pick up the bread and eat it, nor drink the water.

He watched her, and became increasingly curious. She turned her attention to him and stared with half-lidded eyes. He fidgeted, looked from the food to her and back again, then finally spoke out of exasperation.

" _Mer torl_ you eat _ibvani_ water?"

She tried to frown, confused. The words were familiar, and unfamiliar at the same time. The memories flickered in her mind, and she searched for understanding in them. He was asking something of her, something about the food and water. She wanted—needed—to reply to him, to ask every question half-formed in her mind, and tell of her gratitude to them all.

He watched her expression, then spoke again.

"Why won't you eat something? Surely your kind eat and drink."

Her eyes widened as the memories 'clicked' into place and she understood. Language flowed into her, and she suddenly knew how to speak and what to say. What had she said before? It did not seem real now. The language had been a foreign one, with dark overtones, but it was lost to her in an instant. The barrier between them had fallen, and the time when she had not understood was lost, like a dream after waking. Now words seemed to sparkle on the tip of her tongue, and the world – and her mind – seemed better and sharper for it.

Her voice was cracked and barely above a whisper, but the words were clear enough. "Too weak." She slid her hand out from under the furs, and tried to stretch it to reach the water, but she had no strength to lift herself from the bed. Her muscles screamed in agony at the harsh movement.

The man looked surprised, but he nodded in understanding. He slowly approached her, and picked up the water-skin and bread. She went limp, the exertion too much for her starved frame. She coughed weakly for a moment before she felt a pressure on her side. He had sat on the bed beside her.

The man lifted her up gently, and helped her into a sitting position. She slumped against him, unable to bear her own weight. He took the bread and tore off a small piece, placing it in her mouth.

The sensation of taste was quick in returning to her, and though the bread was rough and slightly stale, it was a feast that she could have only dreamed of in the dungeon. It was sweet and delicious on her tongue, and the effort of swallowing was sore and difficult; she still gulped it down and tried to take more. Her body remembered, from the first bite, what it was to eat and drink and be satisfied, and it took little more than a minute for feelings of hunger and thirst to awaken in her stomach. Then she became ravenous, as if she could eat and eat for hours and still not be full, and her stomach twisted with nausea at the first food it had encountered for months.

She desperately wanted more, and knew that that would lead to her being very sick. The man let her eat the entire loaf slowly, so she did not choke on it. Then he lifted the water skin and let her take small sips. She coughed again at the cold water, but it was honey in her mouth and she could not turn it away. All the while, the man watched her eat and drink with an odd expression of curiosity and guardedness, as if she were a strange and unpredictable animal.

She was not like him, or the knights. They were humanva, all of them—the wingless, the earthbound. They would never know the feeling of flight. And she, Suzanna, was not humanva. She was something else. They were right to be afraid of her, and instead she was shown kindness. She wanted to know more about these men, and why they had treated her so well.

"Thank you," she croaked.

The man smiled at her, faintly puzzled. "You are most welcome."

When all the water was gone, he stood up and left, taking the skin and cloth with him. Suzanna drifted off to sleep again, drowsy because of the meal.

## Chapter Six

### Birds and Leaves

She woke during the night, and the pain in her limbs was lessened. She tried to move her hands again, and though they shook like a reed in the wind, her fingers coiled and uncoiled. She managed to turn her head a little, and watched the trees waving outside and the stars above them. It was peaceful and soothing.

The horses stamped every now and then. The guards outside spoke in low voices regularly as their patrols crossed. The smell of leaf mould and earth from the wood was faint and enticing. She wondered briefly if they would take her outside, maybe let her lie on the grass and watch the birds and leaves. That would be nice.

## Chapter Seven

### Daemonva

The morning was bright and cold. Suzanna was woken by a soft patter, a tapping that did not seem to come from anywhere. She looked outside, and saw the rain.

It was fascinating and beautiful, watching the rain fall outside. It was only a light shower, but it dripped on the leaves of the trees and left them shining wet. The clouds were high and racing across the sky that she could see through the tent flap. Sometimes a knight would walk by outside, and their footsteps were squelching or splashing or clanking depending on the ground.

She spent hours, maybe, simply watching and waiting and enjoying the sound of the rain. It grew louder and softer by degrees as the shower went on, and she closed her eyes after a time and simply imagined the feel of the raindrops. It was a memory, another precious little piece of color to add to her blank mind.

As the shower ended, she had a visitor. The man in the vestments returned, and brought more food and a small white bag with him. Again he sat, and fed her bread and water. She could not even sit up yet or hold the water skin, but today she did not cough.

He stayed when she was finished. He watched her as she lay there, breathing heavily from the exertion of eating. She watched him in return and wondered what he was thinking.

"Why do you stare?" she asked in her croaking voice.

He started, apparently thinking of something else, then looked at her gravely. "I have never been so close to one of your kind, without being in fear of my life," he said slowly. "You are dangerous creatures – when you are healthy at least."

She frowned. She already knew that she was not human, and that he was. She looked at her grey skin, and nails that were very overgrown. They were her hands, nothing more. That she had a 'kind' was odd to her.

"Why.... afraid?" Her voice gave out and she began coughing again. When the bout ended she spoke a little more quietly. "I can't hurt you. Won't. Thank you for the food."

The man looked at her thoughtfully. "Do you know what I am?" he asked.

"Yes. Humanva. Earthbound."

He smiled. "Of course, I don't have wings. You call us earthbound? How interesting." He held the water skin again, and let her take a few more sips. "Tell me, how did you come to be chained up in a dungeon?"

"I don't know."

"Really? That's unusual."

"I don't remember anything." She gulped. "Please... what am I?"

He looked at her as if he had never seen her before, with wonder and confusion in his eyes. "You are one of the daemonva—more specifically, a daemon."

Daemonva. The word rang like a bell in her head. She understood the truth of it, but it felt incomplete, as if that were some essential part of that truth still hidden. She looked at her hands again. They were the hands of a daemon, that much was undeniable. She was daemonva, just like he was humanva, but the meaning of it was still lost to her.

"What is daemonva?" she said quietly.

"Good grief..." He reached out, and took her hand. "Do you even know your own name?"

"Yes. I am Suzanna. It's the only thing I remember well."

"'Daemonva' is what we call daemons and daevas. I am not sure what you are, but you wear the skin of a daemon. All your kind are warriors—difficult to kill, and impossible to capture—and yet we found you half-dead in a dungeon cell."

"I am a warrior?"

"Perhaps, yes. The daemonva have fought a war here in our realm for generations. They are very dangerous to the humanva."

Suzanna tried to understand this new information and failed. The mention of war and daevas brought a sense of familiarity, and echoes of violence that left her unsettled. She could not conceive of hurting this man, who had treated her so kindly, and the knights who had brought her out of the darkness of the dungeon. She had been ready to ask for death to end her miserable non-existence until they walked in and carried her out, back to the open air and the sky she missed so much.

She lifted her hand unsteadily, and reached for him. He seemed as if he would pull away, but at the last moment he stopped and allowed her contact. She touched him on the arm shakily, and underneath her fingertips she felt the warmth of his skin and the softness of the hairs.

The words were harsh in her throat as she tried to put some force behind them. "I would never hurt you. You, the knights, you have saved me..." She broke off and began coughing violently. He lifted her up and patted her on the back as she convulsed.

The furs slipped off her thin body, and revealed her wounded torso. He shook his head at the sight of long thin lines of dried blood crossing her chest. Her breasts were flat and scarred, and every rib was visible. Her body was a network of abuse and damage going back some time, even though she could not remember it and mostly could not feel it. She was too injured to feel any sense of modesty.

He retrieved the white bag, and hummed as he drew a few rolls of white cloth from it. They were cotton bandages, and inscribed with glyphs of healing. "Let's see if this works on you," he said, and helped her prop herself up. As he wrapped the bandages around her torso, he chanted an incantation that caused the glyphs to glow faintly. She was dimly aware of the humanva magic settling into her wounds, and then the cuts and slices in her skin tingled.

"I'm afraid I don't have enough to cover your wings," he said apologetically. "Your body is already healing, however. I believe you will recover, with rest."

She tried to thank him again, but sitting up threw her into another bout of coughing. He lay her down on the bed, and drew the fur up over her again. She tried to wipe her mouth, and her weakened hands still did not work well enough. He wiped it for her with a cloth from the bag, and she saw a brief flash of dark blood in the fabric.

"I have to wonder what he did to you, down there," he said. "You are not like any daemon I've ever seen or heard of."

Her eyes widened in awe. "You know the man who did this to me? Is he still alive?"

"He is, I'm afraid. He escaped in the battle. But you are safe from him now," he said gently. "You need to rest. We will be returning to Bastion soon, and you must be well enough to travel." He stood and wrapped up the empty wineskin in the cloth. "Lord Lukas will come to see you later today. He will ask you some questions, and you should answer if you can, but he is a merciful and compassionate lord and he will not hurt you if you cannot."

Suzanna tried to nod. "I will answer." She hesitated, then reached out to him again. "What is your name?"

The man looked at her with faint suspicion and remained silent for a moment before answering. He was still wary, in spite of their conversation.

"I am called Alvan," he finally said. She half-smiled, appreciative of his willingness to give his name to something he feared.

"I am glad to meet you," she said, and for once her voice was not cracked and breathy.

## Chapter Eight

### The Shape of Death

She spent the afternoon dozing, or watching the world outside the tent flap where Alvan had left it hanging open. The knights were always moving about, some eating, some training, some patrolling. She watched them pass by in their armor or in their undershirts and leggings. Sometimes they stopped and talked where she could see them, and she relished how they joked and chatted and laughed with each other. One came by with his horse, and she saw how the animal was lame from a cut in its leg. He was tending it carefully, and the horse constantly nudged him or nosed him as he wrapped a new bandage around the wound.

The little things that passed the tent were small and minor to the people around her, but they were precious in her mind. These men had saved her life. They were ordinary knights, no grand magic about them, no powerful weapons to aid them. Only their own ordinary swords, their horses, and their courage, and they had fought into the dungeon and dragged her out into the sunlight again. Her gratitude to them was great.

It occurred to her that they had had some other goal in mind when they entered the dungeon. They had been surprised to see her, hadn't they? She would ask Alvan when he came back.

In the late afternoon, he returned with another figure. Suzanna recognized the knight who had carried her out, wrapped in his cloak. Her mind was clear enough that she knew he was a lord, and far more important than the others.

He had no cloak now. It was still rolled up at the foot of her bed. She watched him look pensively at her, then step forward and pick it up. Alvan only stood at the tent flap, hands behind his back and his expression carefully neutral.

The knight took off his helmet, and placed it on the ground at the foot of the bed. He was younger than Alvan, though he still had grey streaks at his temples. His beard was closely cropped, and he had a small scar that crossed the corner of his mouth. His face was familiar, though she couldn't say why.

He knelt down, and his face hovered over her. He took her chin gently again, and turned her limp head this way and that. She did not resist. He hummed to himself, then drew back the furs and examined the scars and long, puckered cuts left by her abuser on her thin torso. The bandages were healing them up faster than she expected. She still did not move – moving was painful, and difficult – when he lifted the fur and examined the marks on her wasted legs and feet. She only shivered in the cold air.

He replaced the furs and watched her, deep in thought. She watched him back, hoping that his face would trigger another part of her memory, and she would discover how she knew him, or why his eyes were so compelling to her. His face was hard, disciplined, though he did not regard her with anything like malice. He was a leader, a commander. Something about that struck a chord in her, a resonance that suggested a deeper connection.

"I am Lord Lukas," he said in a deep voice. "You are in my care, or my prisoner. I have not decided which yet."

She blinked slowly. The distinction did not seem to be very important, considering how much better either option was than where they had found her. "I am Suzanna," she whispered, not trusting her voice to remain steady. "Thank you for bringing me outside."

He looked surprised, and for a moment his hand strayed to the sword at his hip. Then he shook his head, and sat on his haunches staring at her.

"You're sure she's not a threat?" he said, and she realized that he was speaking to Alvan.

"You have trusted me before, my lord," Alvan said. "I am sure she would not hurt us, even if she had the strength."

Lukas sniffed, and turned his attention back to her. "Alvan has told me that you are not like other daemons." He cocked his head, his brow furrowed. "What happened to you in that dungeon?"

She remembered their discovery of her, and the journey out, but beyond that her memories were still vague and darkened. There was pain, and fire, and magic searing into her flesh.

"Bad things... he hurt me... questions... servant with a light in his hand..." She mumbled and then trailed off, the memories flickering in her mind like fireflies. Her hands clenched and unclenched, then reached up and touched her chest of their own accord, tracing the long lines of red which were only starting to heal over. "Don't remember."

Lord Lukas stared at her with incredulity. "You don't remember? Don't remember what? Tell us what you know."

"Daemon. Suzanna. I can fly..." Her whispered voice faltered again. "I remember flying," she said very softly. "You fear me, don't you? All of you, you are scared of me even though I can't even stand up. I don't know why."

"She has no memory, my lord," Alvan said earnestly. "She knows nothing at all of the war, or the daemonva. That's why she's still here! You know what he is capable of -"

"I know!" Lukas snapped. "I don't need to be reminded of the facts, Alvan, and one of them is that she is still a daemon, no matter what he did to her."

"She is more than just a daemon, my lord, and you would not have saved her if you didn't believe that," he said, looking grimly at the knight.

Lukas fell silent for a moment. "I don't need to be reminded of that either," he finally said.

Suzanna tried to reach out to Lukas, and her fingertips brushed his arm. "Please, tell me what I am. Tell me about the man who kept me chained up. Tell me anything, I have to know!" She coughed, and clutched the furs to her face.

A brief flash of pain darkened Lukas' face. He pushed her hand away, and stood up. "You are a daemon, Suzanna. Your kind are war with the daevas, and you chose this realm—OUR realm—as your battleground. The war has gone on longer than any human has been alive, and we are caught in it like everything else here." He sighed. "Many people have died for this war, many humans, daemons and daevas. I imagine that you've killed many yourself, before you were tortured."

Her stomach clenched painfully. The thought of hurting any of the knights was abhorrent to her, even if she had the power to do so. The shock of the idea was too much. She coughed again, and tasted bile in her throat, but there was little enough in her to throw up. She realized that she believed him implicitly. The knowledge of it felt right, and real. It felt like a truth she could almost remember, that seemed to hang just over her shoulder, but Suzanna shied away from it at every turn.

Suddenly she was thrown into her own memories, and she saw death, destruction, and felt the crunch of bone and flesh under her hands. Her dreams of battle were dreams of this war, and she was no mere foot soldier; they ebbed and flowed at her command, and her orders had condemned many lives. They coalesced around a name: Sunekhar. The sorcerer had called her that in the dungeon, and her flesh felt the familiarity of it. The visions were still out of focus, little more than echoes of what she had done, and they still showed her horrors. She fought her way out of them, and returned to the here and now.

"No, I... I couldn't..." She was weakened and limp, and her breath came in gasps. She tasted blood again. The stress was too much on her wounded body. Alvan pushed Lukas out of the way and sat on the bed, and lifted her into a sitting position with the furs drawn around her. Her wings were little more than dead weight, but he supported her as best he could. He patted her on the back as she shook with the force of coughing, then lifted a skin of water to her mouth and let her drink. Sensation had been slow in coming back, but today she could feel thirst and hunger again, and her body cried out for nourishment even as her mind cried out in horror.

It was real, so very real. Alvan had called her a warrior, and she was that and more. She could feel the shape of death in her hands, and trace the path of every sword swing that ended in the body of another. She had killed, that much was certain, and though the echoes of the feeling were still faint, she knew that she had _liked_ it.

Finally the coughing subsided. Alvan held her gently, one arm around her her shoulders. She still gasped for breath, and her lungs hurt with the effort, but she began to sob chokingly into her hands.

"I am... sorry... so sorry," she cried. The guilt and shame overwhelmed her, and she clung to him and bawled like a child. Her world had been made so small, existing as it did of this tent and the knights who had found her and her few, humble memories of the last two days. Knowing what she was, what she might have done, was like being thrown back into the uncertain darkness.

He let her cry, and rocked her back and forth. She crooned in pain as her chest and throat ached with the tears. After a few minutes it eased, and she fell silent and trembling with her cheek against his chest.

"Do you remember anything now, Suzanna?" he asked gently.

"I r-remember," she croaked. "What have I done? I—I killed... I hurt people!" She was torn between the horror of the truth, and the fear of the endless void that would have filled her mind otherwise. It would have been so much easier not to know. All the hours spent trying to recall any fragment of her life before the dungeon, and now she desperately wanted to forget.

"Why didn't you kill me?" she asked them in anguish. "I would have welcomed death!"

"We are not monsters!" Lukas said. He leaned down, close to her tear-streaked face. "And you are too valuable to kill. I don't yet understand exactly what you are, but we know this much: you are not quite a daemon. Every daemon can return to Halca with a thought, and yet here you are. No one has ever captured a daemon alive, and yet here you are."

"Halca is the realm of the daemons," Alvan said, casting a stern glance at Lukas. "I believe that you are a meldling. That is why you don't remember."

"Wh... what?" The word was meaningless to her. No flicker of memory told her what it might be.

"That's just your theory, Alvan, and it isn't much of one," Lukas said darkly.

"She _is_ a meldling, my lord. It's the only thing I know of that explains her," Alvan said with a hint of reproach. "Suzanna, a meldling is a being that has been created from other creatures. The man who held you captive is a sorcerer, and he is a man skilled in the arts of transmutation. He created other meldlings, or tried to at least."

"We saw many creatures in his dungeon, and in the tower," said Lukas. "Most were crafted from humanva, and half were dead or dying. But you, you are apparently unique. I don't know what magic he used to keep you from leaving, but it must have been very powerful."

She remembered the feeling of freedom, as the last spike was drawn out of her wings and she fell from the wall. Yes, daemons could step through the veil to Halca, any time they chose—but what was the veil? How did she move through it? She remembered none of the details.

"I am... I am not a daemon?" she asked.

"Your body is that of a daemon. Your soul," Alvan glanced at Lukas, "I'm afraid we know nothing about it. All I can tell is that it is not daemonva."

"I came here looking for answers," said Lukas, "and I think that a daemon who remembers nothing and cries for the dead might be able to give them, eventually. So, for now you will remain with us, and we will care for you. But know this—you _will_ be watched. Daemons are dangerous, and meldlings are known to be unbalanced." He picked up his helmet, and pulled back the tent flap to leave. "I am still bound by the code of the knights. I must serve the cause of humanva before all else. If you become a threat to us, you will die by my sword. If not... then you will return to Bastion with us, and the Distant Nine will decide your fate."

He left, and the tent flap swung down behind him. She hung her head, and felt fresh tears on her face. She desperately wanted to be something other than a monster, though she hardly understood what a meldling was instead. It was strange to feel happy after her treatment in the dungeon, but here, in a rough canvas tent, wrapped in furs and being cared for with kindness, was as close to happy as she had ever felt. The thought of losing that—or worse, being unworthy of it—was more than she could bear.

Alvan murmured a few soothing words, and carefully laid her down on the bed. She began to feel drowsy, worn out from the emotional turmoil, and her head sagged on her shoulders. The tent became a blur to her eyes. Her mind and body spent and aching, she drifted away and slept.

## Chapter Nine

### Night Whispers

She woke during the night. The first thing she noticed was the moonlight streaming in the tent flap, illuminating the camp outside in grey and silver. There was the faint smell of tinder as the wind carried the smoke of the torches in her direction. The night was quiet, bright, and cool. But she was warm, burrowed as she was into the furs. Her body, so battered and torn, was healing itself in the pervading warmth. It was dream-like, and very pleasant, and her mind swam in and out of consciousness.

Meldling. But she might as well be a daemon, if she wore a daemon's flesh. They were violent, and terrifying to humanva. They fought for... something, that she couldn't quite name. The war had lasted a long time. She had commanded an army, once. Now the events around her were out of her control, and her fate would be decided by another. Who or what was the Distant Nine?

She had been something else as well. Her life had been one of quiet contemplation, full of books, and knowledge, and teaching. There had been a man, and the promise of a family. She felt a strange dissonance in her mind, when she felt the echoes of battle overlaid on those memories.

She had been created, by the man in the fine robes. Why had he kept her in the dungeon?

There was a motion at the tent flap. There was someone standing outside in the moonlight. Suzanna stirred, and woke up properly.

A glint of armor told her that it was one of the knights. He was guarding her, as promised, although where she would go, she had no idea. Another movement, and all at once she knew that it was Lukas himself who stood watch over her.

The lord knight was a mystery to her. There was something connecting them, something that he would not say out loud. Strange, but she felt nothing but peace in his presence. There were echoes of him in her fragmented memories.

She wondered if he had given up his tent for her.

A shadow by the tent flap caught her attention, and she heard Alvan's voice.

"You don't need to do this, my lord."

Lukas shifted, and his armor creaked softly. "You don't give the orders around here, Alvan."

"Yes, but I'm still supposed to be a source of guidance and wisdom. As a reverend of the House of Swords, and your friend, I'm telling you that you don't need to do this. She's not going to hurt anyone, and she's not going anywhere."

Lukas was silent for a moment. "She's a daemon, Alvan -"

"She isn't. You know that. I saw how you looked at her, my lord. What more proof do you need, apart from the truth of your own eyes and my word that it's really her?" The shadow moved, and it seemed that Alvan had placed his hand on Lukas' shoulder. "I've stayed with you on this search for months, Lukas. You have to let it end, one way or another."

"But he is still out there! He could have taken her somewhere else!"

"But he didn't. The trail ends here. You found her, my lord, and she is still alive, in a way. Isn't that something to be grateful for?"

The conversation faded to a murmur. Suzanna closed her eyes again. She was exhausted, and her body demanded sleep. Too many questions swarmed in the back of her mind, but they could wait until the morning. For now, there were worse places to be.

## Chapter Ten

### The Measure of Her

The morning was like the night, bright and cool. She had woken to the sound of the horses, whinnying outside, and this time she felt properly refreshed.

She yawned, and stretched, and immediately regretted it. All her senses had returned to normal, and all they could tell her was that her body ached as if she had been beaten with an iron bar. Her wings moved sluggishly. She had no strength in them, and probably wouldn't have for days to come. With a grunt and a faint whimper, she pushed herself up and into a sitting position. There she bent over, breathing hard. Her wings weighed heavily on her back, dragging her down.

She felt her legs. The muscles trembled as she tried to flex them, and it was clear they would not support her. It was immaterial; where would she go? She had nothing other than Lukas and Alvan and the knights.

With a thump, Suzanna lay back down, her wings sprawled to either side, and feebly pulled the furs back over her. Her hands still shook with the effort of moving, but every day they became more steady, and she knew she was healing very quickly. Maybe daemons were hardier than humans; it would certainly explain why she had survived in the dungeon despite being starved and abused. She reached up and touched her face. She had no idea what she looked like, or what her hair was like. It felt surprisingly soft as she reached up and tried to pull a bit towards her eyes. It was not important. She stared at the canvas roof, and began thinking.

Her mind was clearer today. Memories were still darkened and empty, but her mind was free of the hazy fog that had clouded her thoughts. Not that she had much to think about, but it was a small improvement.

She considered Lukas. He had been a savior to her, both in bringing her out of the dungeon and then assuring her safety while she was with him. In every way he had acted with compassion and kindness in spite of whatever he personally felt about daemons. Thoughts of him brought a glow of gratitude and happiness to her face. But there was a deeper connection between them, one that made her feel warm, and it had something to do with why he had come to the dungeon of the sorcerer.

The knowledge of her being was a weight on her shoulders and a pain in her heart. Some part of her was a daemon, who had killed and might kill again, unfeeling and uncaring of the hurt it caused. She could not imagine herself to be that monster. Privately she vowed that, even if her memory returned in full force, she would not forget Lukas and his kindness, or her time here in this little tent. This was a sanctuary to her, a refuge from the cruelty of her former captor and the reality of her daemonic nature.

But another part of her was not a daemon. She remembered vague details from the night before, when Alvan had spoken to Lukas about her. They were searching for someone, and that search had led them to the tower and to her. Maybe they thought she could help them. She tried to think about what she had seen there, or recall any more details of other prisoners, but her memories remained dark.

Suzanna could hear the knights calling out to each other in the morning chill. It was nothing special, only the grumbling and banter between close comrades and brothers. They did not know that she was listening. She smiled to herself, and wished that she could go out and talk to them.

Lukas came instead of Alvan, bringing with him more water and bread and a little smoked meat. He also carried a long, rough linen shirt and pants. Today he had no armor, only a plain gambeson and a tabard with the symbol of the knights.

"These are for you," he said awkwardly, holding up the pants and shirt.

He helped her sit up as she put the shirt on backwards so that it could be tied around her wings, and even supported her while she ate. She found the strength to hold the bread in both hands, shaky as she was, while she bit off and chewed tiny pieces of it. She watched his face, wondering what his guarded expression hid. For a long, odd moment, while she rested against his shoulder, she found herself wishing that she could curl up beside him and drift away into sleep.

The meat was salty and tough, but tasty and very needed. The water was cold and pure, and it was all she could do not to gulp it down and risk choking herself again. Her body needed food and water to heal itself, and every time she ate, she became very acutely aware of how hungry she was.

"Try not to eat too quickly," he said. He remained silent otherwise, while she ate.

When the food was gone, she hiccupped and lay back in the furs. It was only mid-morning now, and instead of leaving her to nap, Lukas stayed.

"I need to know everything that you know," he said. He stood up and put the water skin on top of the box, then sat on it himself. "You remember your name, which is something at least. Threat or no, I have to take this chance to learn what I can about you. The daemonva are still largely a mystery to us."

"I don't know what I can tell you. I think you know more than I do," Suzanna said. "Everything before the dungeon is less than a blur. I know the shape of some things, like... battles, and fighting, and solitude, and reading books. None of it makes sense. I can't tell you what is important and what isn't."

"Tell me about the battles."

"I..." She shivered, despite the warmth of the furs. "I was a leader. I gave orders. I watched many people die, and some of them I killed myself. They all run together in my mind. Please don't make me talk about them."

"And the rest, then?"

"I read many books—or I think I did. I remember the smell of them, and the library was nice and quiet. They let me study as long as I... wanted..."

The tent vanished as memories and feelings rippled through her mind, and she saw beyond the thin canvas walls. High, vaulted ceilings, with candles and old, dusty books; corridors of stone; echoes of songs and chants. A man's laughter. The touch of a hand on her face, and joy, and hope. She was a teacher, a scholar, and a healer, filled with compassion and kindness for those around her.

Like before, she was jolted back to the present, and all but the vaguest impressions slipped away from her. This time, she sought to hold on to them, to reassure herself that there was something more to her than death and destruction. "I remember!" she said. "I was... I remember being human. It was beautiful, and peaceful."

The feeling glowed within her. Perhaps this was what being a meldling felt like; to hold darkness and light within at the same time.

Lukas stared at her as she gasped for breath. The guarded expression had turned to one of astonishment. "I think the Distant Nine will have to see you as soon as possible," he said.

"Why?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I can't explain now."

The fear of the unknown struck her again, and she found herself almost retreating into the furs. "Lukas, what will happen to me?" she asked. "If all my memories return, I... don't know who I will become. I could turn into a real daemon."

"That would make us enemies, you know."

"I know," she said sadly. "When I was a daemon, I cared nothing for the lives of others. I wish I could only remember being a human."

"And now?"

She looked up in surprise. "Now? Do you have to ask?" Suzanna took her head, and spoke earnestly. "Please believe me. I could not imagine hurting anyone, and certainly not you and your knights."

"For what it's worth, I find myself wanting to believe you," he said. "I will have Alvan examine you again, and perhaps he will be able to discover something more."

He stood up to leave, and Suzanna reached out to him. There was that connection again, that feeling of wanting him nearby. "Don't go," she said. "Please, stay and talk with me?"

Lukas paused, then returned to sit on the box. "What do you want to talk about?" he said.

For a moment, she was at a loss. "Why are names so important?" she finally asked.

He hummed, thinking. "Names are powerful. They tell the world who and what you are, and more importantly they tell you who you are."

She shook her head, not quite understanding.

"Names are... they are a part of us, you see. A name is how the world knows us, and how we come to know ourselves."

"It's important to you?"

"Yes, and to every knight. Our name is as important as our sword. If the people know a knight's name, they know him and the measure of his honor."

And she was Suzanna; that was her measure. But that was not true, her memory told her. There was more in the faint flicker she had experienced, the one where she had recalled her name. They had called her... called her...

Sunekhar, the Sword of Halca. Yes. That was the title they had used. They called themselves the Daemon-Ra, and she was their weapon. That was how the world had known her, and how she had known herself. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, blocking out the vague unsettled feeling that memory left her with. She was _not_ the daemon. She would not fall back into darkness.

"Tell me about the knights," she said.

They spent several more hours in conversation. He talked more than her, and spoke of humanva and the great city of Bastion where the war could not enter. He spoke of the code of the knights and his own family, and their legacy in the Order of the Sword. She listened, wide-eyed, and absorbed it all into her fledgling memory.

## Chapter Eleven

### Introductions

On the fourth day, she had recovered enough strength to sit up without becoming exhausted from the effort. She asked to be brought outside, so that she could see feel the wind on her face again. Lukas wrapped her in his cloak and carried her out to the fire pit, then placed her on one of the logs beside it.

The knights were obviously nervous of her. They tried not to look at her, tried not to address her. Lukas and Alvan sat beside her, which was a little comforting, but there was still tension in the air. The cloak slipped down from her shoulders no matter what she did with it, and her wings were obvious.

Suzanna tried to fade into the background, hoping that they would stop taking any notice of her. She ate quietly and said very little, and simply enjoyed being outside instead. The whole world was a source of wonder and awe for her; it was all new and brilliant as if she was a newborn child.

She watched a tiny thrush bouncing along a branch of one of the trees by the camp, fascinated by its quick movements. It brought a wide smile to her face as it swooped down to the ground, only a few feet away. It seemed to watch her inquisitively, its head bobbing left and right.

She nudged Alvan beside her, and tried to nod in its direction. "Alvan, look!" she said. "Look, it's hungry!"

He turned around, and the movement scared the little bird. It took to the air like an arrow from a bow and darted past her, close enough that she felt the air from its wings on her face. She cried out in delight, and tried to follow its path as it vanished between the trees again.

"I will leave out some crumbs for the songbirds, if you like," Alvan said, smiling at her.

"Yes, please," she said, then noticed the knights around the fire staring at her. She shrank into the cloak. "Only if you can spare the bread," she said quietly.

"I believe we can."

The atmosphere became a little lighter. One of the knights turned to her hesitantly, and offered her a piece of dried meat.

Suzanna accepted it gratefully, happy that at least one of them was reaching out to her. She thanked him, and went back to huddling in the cloak.

"What is your name, milady?" he asked.

Suzanna was thrown for a moment. Being called a lady was odd. "I am called Suzanna," she said. "Thank you, for rescuing me from the dungeon. What is your name?"

The knight who had spoken puffed out his chest. "My name is Sir Alton, of the House of Dreams. I have been in the service of Lord Lukas for five years now." He looked proud, as the knight beside him laughed and slapped him on the back.

"What is a House?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, apart from the obvious answer, which is it is a place where people live..." She trailed off as Alton shook his head.

"I think you're mistaken, milady. To us, a House is a family, a clan of your kith and kin," he said. The others nodded in agreement. "I guess you don't have a House as such, or maybe daemons have their own Houses?"

She strived to remember, but the knowledge was not there. She had no House, no group of relatives to call her own, or if she did, she could not recall them. It was a lonely and depressing thought. "I'm sure I don't have a House," she said. "Are there many Houses?"

The knights all voiced their agreement. Alton acted as the spokesman.

"Oh yes, many Houses. Some are bigger than others, and some are bound to others as well. For example, my House is bound to Lord Lukas' House." Lukas nodded silently.

Alton continued. "There is the House of Swords, which runs most of the churches – that's Alvan' House – the House of Steel, the House of Light, the House of Beauty, the House of Stone, the House of Evens and Odds, the House of Rain, the House of Fire, the House of -"

Lukas cut him off. "That is enough, Alton, I don't think she needs to hear all their names."

Alton looked a little crestfallen, and mumbled "Yes, my lord."

Suzanna turned to Lukas. "What is your House?"

He poked the fire, and did not answer for a moment. "My House is the House of Justice," he said slowly, as if it were an incriminating fact.

Suzanna digested this and mused over it. She would have asked more, but it seemed that he did not feel like talking.

The knights bantered back and forth for a while, and as they did so she learned more about them. There was Eisun of the House of Dragons, a tall and quiet man with a few grey hairs; Brovah of the House of Fire, who had a wife at home and was missing her dearly; Declo of the House of Ivory, who knew more than a few good jokes; Stearn of the House of Light, a young man serving as Lukas' squire; Maska of the House of Colors, who did much of the cooking and hunting. They were a mixed group, with many strange skills and talents among them. It struck her that they seemed an odd choice for a lord's retinue.

She was starting to question how it was that she thought those things. She seemed to have a lot of instinctive knowledge of humanva. But why, and how would a daemon gain such knowledge?

It seemed that Alvan had made it his mission to be her guide on this journey. He described the path they would take, to a small outpost at the edge of the mountains first, then through the underground trods to the city itself.

"You see, Suzanna, the war has been very trying on the land here. The only safe places are those that neither side is willing to fight over, such as the most impassible mountains. Bastion was built almost five hundred years ago, hollowed out of the rock. It took hundreds of people and the most powerful magic, but it was worth it for the lives that it saved. Most humans live there now, except for madmen like the sorcerer." He cleared his throat nervously; her captor was still a subject that no one wished to discuss. "The leaders of the city are the Council of the Distant Nine. They are wizards, all of them, and powerful ones at that. Very old as well, or so the rumors go. They protect the city by hiding it from the attentions of the daemons and daevas. Well, I say they hide; as we all know it is not possible to hide anything from the notice of the daemonva, but they can make it appear to be inconsequential."

Suzanna listened attentively. "The Council, what are they like?" she asked.

Alvan looked surprised. "What are they like? What do you mean?"

"What kind of people are they?"

He mused for a moment. "They are not like us, you see. They are so concerned with the city that they don't readily have time to talk and relax, I assume. They are... lofty. Benevolent, but far removed from the workings of daily life. You will not forget them, rest assured, when you meet them."

Suzanna could not help her fear of them. She still worried how the Council might view a daemon, even one as odd as her.

## Chapter Twelve

### The Land Remembers

After a week, the wounds all over her torso had knitted enough that Alvan pronounced her fit to travel, and Lord Lukas judged that they could begin the long trek to Bastion. She was healing faster than any human could, and every night when she fell asleep, another knight would stand guard at the entrance to the tent. Even if she did not wake during the night, Suzanna knew from the footprints in the mud outside in the morning that one of them had been there.

The journey started slowly, as they packed up the camp and prepared to move out. Suzanna was wrapped in the cloak again, her wings bound up carefully, and sat in front of Lukas as they walked slowly through the woods. The chatter of the knights was cheerful, and they were looking forward to traveling back home. They missed their families, and rations were running low.

It was such a simple thing, but she had heard them talk often of the people they had left behind to follow Lukas. There was Cambridge, who missed his younger brother in the monastery. Evans, who was always ready with a joke and a smile around the other knights, but she saw him stare wistfully off into the sky with a shy smile on his face that betrayed his inner thoughts. All of them were whole people, with stories and lives and feelings, and they had followed Lukas into mortal danger because he was their lord, and he would walk into the danger with them.

Their loyalty was unquestionable. Lukas had already stated before them that Suzanna was not to be harmed, and they had obeyed. She had been left alone, except for Alvan' ministrations, and although they were still a little wary of her most of the time, they at least spoke to her and treated her respectfully. They were good men and honorable men, who followed the code as their lord did.

Suzanna was increasingly curious as to why they had followed Lukas out into the wilderness. He had never told her why they had fought their way into the dungeon, never told her anything of her captor or what became of him after the battle. It seemed to be a taboo subject, but she felt that, whatever their mission had been, it had not been fulfilled. There was a brooding sense of disconcertion from Lukas sometimes, and how she could possibly know him well enough to read that from his features was a mystery.

The woods began to thin as the day wore on, and in the afternoon they stopped and make camp for a meal at the edge of an expanse of scrub trees, grass and rock. It stretched into the distance, and on the horizon she could make out the jagged lines of mountains. The plain was desolate, windy and utterly cheerless, and she shivered at the thought of crossing it.

Lukas lifted her down from the horse, and carried her to the campfire. He left her seated on a rock with a little meat and water, while two knights left to scout out some game. They would stay here for an hour or more, before moving on.

Suzanna finished her meal and sat, wobbling occasionally, on the cold rock. She looked about her with interest, noting the faint breeze on her face and the cold snap in the air. She knew this was a perfect day for flight; the sky called to her, and if it had been in her power she would have taken off from the lowly earth and turned cartwheels through the clouds. For a moment she closed her eyes and breathed the cold air deeply, imagining the air around her and the pure, deep joy of flying through the sky.

A quiet cough broke her reverie, and she turned to see Alvan standing beside her with a faint smile. He sat beside her on the rock. She smiled in return.

"So, my dear, how do you find the change of scenery?" he asked cheerfully. "I hope your strength is coming back to you, the fresh air will do you much good."

She nodded. "I feel much better. But I don't recognize this place at all. Where are we?"

Alvan looked at her incredulously, then frowned. "Of course, you would not remember, your memory being as fickle as it is... This is the plain of Lost Hope. Many of the great battles of the war were fought here, between the daemons and daevas. It was a fertile plain once, a quiet and peaceful place where humans farmed and herded and lived their lives as they wished, and for a time the war left it alone. But a force of daevas were riding through the woods here, and were ambushed by an army of daemons, or so we think, and they fled into the plain and made their stand there. More daevas and daemons arrived, and the ambush became a huge raging battle that lasted for days as they fought back and forth across the land. There was nothing left when they disappeared back to their own realms." Alvan's face was bleak for a moment. "Nothing grows properly here anymore. The land remembers, Suzanna. The daemonva do not care about humans and the hurt they cause to us, but the land knows and it rebels against them." He saw her face and stopped, embarrassed. "Present company excepted, of course."

She stared mournfully at the ground. "I wish I could remember, sometimes, and then I hope I will never remember." She glanced at the wild, wind-torn plain. "I may have helped to do this, Alvan. I could have killed a hundred humans. Maybe more. You all must hate me."

She shivered under the cloak, and tried to pull it tighter around her. Alvan immediately leaned forward and pulled it up under her chin.

"Suzanna, my dear, the war is generations old," he said gently. "Many humans live happily in Bastion, and never think about the daemonva. Your kind are dangerous, yes, but no more so than any other natural disaster. I can assure you, we don't hate you."

"Thank you," she said, and tried to smile. He returned it warmly.

"If it gives you any consolation, I believe the damage to your memory is permanent," he said. "The magic to create meldlings is forbidden in Bastion, and I know very little about them, but all that I have heard suggests that the process is irreversible. The memories that torment you will never return in full force."

She wanted to believe him, but the constant flashes of memories suggested otherwise.

"Do you know how it was done?" she asked.

"No, though I can't imagine that it was pleasant. When we found her..." He stopped, aware that he might have said too much.

Suzanna leaned forward earnestly. "You came to the tower for another reason, didn't you? Were you looking for someone?" Her voice cracked for a second as she spoke, but she pressed on. "I have to know, Alvan. Please tell me!"

He patted her shoulder gently. "Lord Lukas will explain everything to you. Wait for him and things should be clearer."

Alvan stood, and went to sit with the circle of knights. Suzanna watched as he drew a small book from his robes and began reading it aloud to them. They listened as well, attentively. The book was nothing special, barely the size of his palm, with tiny writing and the symbol of a sword embossed into its leather cover.

She sighed, and watched the wind making ripples in the grass of the plain. Lord Lukas was nowhere to be seen.

The knights returned with a few rabbits, and soon the smell of fresh meat cooking wafted over the camp. Suzanna was unpleasantly reminded of how hungry she still was; she was constantly hungry now as her body demanded more nourishment. She briefly wondered if they would share any with her without her asking.

Suddenly there was a thudding of hoofbeats, and Lukas appeared at the edge of the camp. He began to shout orders, and the knights leapt to their feet to obey.

"Break camp!" he shouted. "Cover the fire, get your packs, we must move out immediately!" As the men rushed to obey, turning the camp into a mess of organized chaos, Lukas dismounted and walked quickly to Suzanna's side.

"I'm afraid we cannot stay here," he spoke in low tones as he lifted her carefully. "There is a party of daevas approaching the woods from the west, and they will be within sight of this camp within the hour. We must leave before they discover us, and you."

To her eternal shame, she trembled in fear as he carried her to the horse.

"Alvan!" he called out. "We need a shield!"

"Yes, my lord." Alvan handed the reins of his horse over to one of the knights.

The camp was dismantled in a matter of minutes. The knights all mounted up, with Alvan sitting behind one of them and lashed to the saddle, and they assembled in a tight group at the edge of the woods. Alvan spoke a few words, and streams of magic swirled around them. He settled into a trance.

Lukas ordered a single knight to check the area as they left, covering their tracks and the last signs of the fire. They moved swiftly out into the plain, and after a time the lord judged them to be far enough away, and they began to ride hard for the mountains.

Suzanna held tightly to Lukas as the horses thundered across the grass. He was a capable rider, and his horse responded to him innately. She was uncomfortable and cold and increasingly hungry, but her fear of the daevas was more than all other feelings put together. There was something primal in her that reacted with complete revulsion when she thought about them.

A fragment of memory showed her the face of a man with dark hair and pale skin. He had wings with pure white feathers, and his gaze was as cold and merciless as the heart of a glacier. He was a daeva, but his identity was a mystery. The echoes spoke of battle, and injury, and every time she thought of his face, her side ached in sympathy. He was dangerous to her, more so than any other daeva, and she knew that her life would be instantly forfeit if he ever found her.

They rode for several hours, and all the while the knights checked behind them for signs of the daeva party. By nightfall they were far into the emptiness of the plain, and there was nothing behind them but wind and desolate scrub.

She had thought the plain was entirely empty, but soon a faint smudge on the horizon turned into a few ruined buildings. It was an old farm, and nothing remained of it bar the scorched, half-fallen stone walls of the farmhouse and barn. Everything wooden had rotted away long ago, but she couldn't imagine that the few large holes in the walls had anything to do with age.

They rode around the side of the farmhouse. Suzanna saw an old, battered barn door lying half-hidden in the grass, with a dirty rope attached to a rusty iron ring in the center of it. They all dismounted, and two of the knights—Eisun and Declo—dragged the door away, revealing a sizable earthen ramp leading under the remains of the house.

Lukas lifted her down from the horse, and carried her into the gloom. The ramp led down into darkness, which was soon lit by a torch carried by Eisun. It appeared that the ruins hid a large cellar, easily big enough for their party. It smelled like old loam, and dust hung in the air, and the roof was made of long, slate slabs held up by stone pillars.

Eisun left the torch in a rusted iron bracket, and lit two more. The horses were led to the other end of the cellar from the door, and tied up to one of the pillars. Lukas put her down on the ground, out of the way.

Alvan almost fell from his horse. He slid off and into the hands of the knights, seemingly close to unconsciousness. Lukas ordered a bedroll to be unpacked, and Alvan was laid down on it next to Suzanna. She quickly took his limp hand, terrified that he was badly hurt. She looked up at Lukas.

"Water for him, quickly," he said. Lukas lifted Alvan's head, and dribbled water from a skin into his mouth. The reverend coughed, his eyes fluttered, and he came to for a moment, but it didn't last. His breath remained shallow, and his skin was pale.

"Will he be alright?" Suzanna said anxiously.

"Yes, I think so. As long as his breathing is regular, he'll wake up tomorrow with nothing more than a hangover," Lukas said. "Holding a full shield for hours isn't trivial. I wouldn't have asked it of him, but the need was great."

"Why did he have to do that?"

"There's no cover on the Plain of Lost Hope, and the daevas have good eyes. The shield hid us from them." Lukas pulled a blanket over Alvan. "We'll stay here until morning, and give him time to recover. The daevas will be long gone by then. There are other hideouts like this spread out across the plain if they come back."

They settled down, and the knights arranged themselves in a circle. One of the tents was rigged up between a pillar and the wall, giving Suzanna a small private space for the camp bed. She assured herself that Alvan was sleeping normally before she retired for the night.

Hours later, Suzanna found that she couldn't sleep. She kept listening for something like the sounds of the woods, though they were far behind them now, or even the whoosh of feathery daeva wings. The dread in her heart made the world far more threatening than it really was. The only thing that broke the oppressive silence of the old cellar was the faint whiffling noises of the horses.

She sat up. To her surprise, Lukas met her gaze immediately; he was sitting just beyond the canvas, still in his armor. His expression was guarded, but alert. He watched over her, as he had done every night since he had rescued her.

She looked back with fear in her eyes, and shivered involuntarily in the cold. Lukas seemed to come to a decision, and stood up.

He sat on the camp bed with series of metallic creaks, staring at the ground. She watched his face, his movements. Twice it appeared that he would say something, and both times he was silent.

Suzanna reached out and touched his arm. "Please stay with me a while," she said. "Just for a while."

He said nothing. The strange connection between them was undeniable, or she would not have dared to ask. She had so many other questions, but it was too late to give voice to them tonight.

Lukas placed his helmet at the foot of the bed. He unbuckled his armor, slowly and carefully, and stacked it beside the helmet. He wore a padded jacket underneath, made of rough cotton. She wriggled to one side as he sat down on the bed and leaned back against the wall, and he allowed her to curl into his arms with the furs wrapped around her. His warmth sank into her skin.

There were no words, no rationalization, no explanation. There was something right about this, something ephemeral that Suzanna could not define. Somehow nothing mattered, here and now. He comforted her, drove away her fear, stopped her shivers. The night was less threatening, less suffocating when Lukas was with her. She did not have to understand it.

## Chapter Thirteen

### Heart-names

The morning was chilly and smelled like earth, but the furs were still warm and soft. She woke to the sound of the horses stamping, as the knights geared up to leave. Suzanna was drowsy, but still content to linger in bed and enjoy the quiet. She squirmed underneath the furs, and the sudden realization that she was alone woke her up fully.

Lukas had left. His helmet and armor were gone. She couldn't say how long he had stayed with her, but she had fallen asleep in his arms. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. She couldn't hear his voice, beyond the tent canvas. The fact that he might not be nearby filled her with dread.

A week ago, she had been left to die in a cell. This morning she had woken up warm and happy, because of a kind man who apparently cared enough about a strange almost-daemon enough to stay with her and share his warmth with her. There was something more about his actions, she knew it. It was too strange that she did not question his staying with her during the night. She had asked for it, welcomed it, and enjoyed his proximity. Something had caused this attachment she felt to him, and it could not be attributed to his rescuing her alone.

Her wings twitched. They had itched a little in the last day. The large tears in the membranes had started to heal over and close up, and the strength slowly returned to her muscles. She wanted to lift her wings and fly, even knowing that it would be some time before she could support herself properly on the wind.

She had slept in her clothes. There was nothing for it but to pull her legs out from under the furs, and swing them around to let her feet rest on the ground. Her weight still wobbled on them, but it seemed that her recovery was accelerating.

Lukas suddenly appeared by the hanging canvas, surprising her. Their eyes met, and her heart jolted in her chest. He nodded tersely to her.

"We need to leave soon," he said. "Alvan has recovered enough to shield us again. Are you ready?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly. She stared at her feet, partly out of embarrassment, and partly because she was at loss as to what else she should do to prepare for their departure.

"Good. Maska will bring you some breakfast, and we'll go as soon as everyone has eaten." He vanished again, and she heard him speaking to Alvan.

That seemed to be all that she would get for now.

They left within an hour, creeping away from the old ruins under the protective shield-illusion. Alvan had wolfed down three times as much food as anyone else, and he had returned to his spot behind one of the knights. His face was still quite pale, and Suzanna worried that the strain would seriously hurt him, but the slower pace seemed to weigh a little easier on him.

Lukas seemed anxious to keep moving away from the wood. He barely spoke to her, though he carried her with the same gentleness he always had. She held onto him tightly again, out of wanting to be close to him rather than fear of what might be following them.

Through the day she wondered again what—or who—had brought Lukas and the knights so far from their city. Something important had called them out, bade them travel for days into the most dangerous reaches of the world, and into the dungeon of a madman who worked magic on the dead. She decided that it was something to do with Lukas, something in his past.

Something in her past bothered her about the plain. The memories were fleeting and vague, but she remembered battles in places like this. She had a fuzzy vision of blood and pieces of flesh littering the ground, the earth stained with black streaked with pearly white. It was the blood of daemons and daevas, soaking and poisoning the earth. She felt herself standing over the broken bodies of her enemies, a long sword in one hand and vicious smile on her lips, and wet with blood to her elbows.

Suzanna whimpered and tried to block out the recollection. She did not want to be the creature in her memories.

The day wore on, and they kept up a tolerable pace. By nightfall, she was worn out from the bumpy ride and her eyes hurt from the gritty dust. But the sunset was orange and red fire on the horizon, and the last of the light lit up her dark, scarred skin. As the sun faded, she looked to the sky, and watched the stars twinkle overhead. They seemed to sparkle for her, and for a time she looked up to then and dreamed of joining them in the eternal dance; to fly through the heavens, and see the world below; a sea of tiny stars in their own right.

The memory was not hers, and it felt awkward and unreal. She remembered a landscape of points of light, forming tracks and patterns at random. She remembered flying like the wind, above them and across them, on to some unknown destination.

She remembered death.

Lukas' cloak was warm, but she saw the images in her mind and her blood was cold. She saw the sea of tiny, pretty lights wiped out by legions of warriors, in black and white and drenched in each other's blood, spreading out across the land like a swarm. They clashed and fought and where they died, the lights were snuffed out. Suzanna remembered, and knew for truth that the daemons and daevas were those warriors, and the lights were the humans trying to build lives for themselves, just trying to survive in the maelstrom of the war. The memories were more distant, less enveloping, and she wondered if that were because the daemon she might have been did not care.

She could not remember why they fought. It seemed as if this one fundamental thing eluded her memory. It was frustrating, and painful.

They reached another ruin, and another, smaller cellar, and the knights busied themselves about while Lukas lifted her down and placed her carefully on the ground. As she watched them, they worked together as brothers and friends. They worked for each other and for her, some of them nodding to her as they set up the canvas again. They had been gracious and gentle at all times. They had not asked anything of her, probably at the lord's behest. They had accepted her as best they could. She owed them more than her life; she owed them her sanity. They were far better and more moral than the daemonva.

What questions must they have, that she could not answer? The daemonva had probably done much evil to them and their families, and she could not even tell them why.

Alvan was obviously tired, but not unconscious. He smiled at her, but didn't seem to have the strength for conversation.

"I'm alright, my dear, don't worry," he said. "It's taxing, but nothing I can't handle. Here, take this and read a while. It will ease your mind." He handed her the small book with the symbol of the knights embossed on the front. It was dark brown leather, and bound shut with a little leather clasp. She accepted it gratefully and with more than a little surprise.

"What is this book? I have seen you read from it many times," she said.

"It is the book from which the code of the knights is written. It is a guide, and a comfort, and full of good and sound advice and stories to keep you interested," he said with a small half-smile. "It is known as the Codex, and according to our oldest legend, it was written by the Distant Nine when Bastion was founded."

She felt the cover of it, felt the raised symbol and the roughness of the leather under her fingertips. "So is it a holy book?" she asked.

"Not as such, no. It is a useful book, and a help in many ways, but it does not pretend to be more than a book. It is not holy, or divinely inspired or anything similar. Just a book of wisdom." Alvan yawned and lay down in his bedroll to rest, and Suzanna let him be.

She opened the book, eager to learn a little more about Bastion. But the letters and symbols were meaningless to her, and she realized, with a sense of crushing disappointment, that she was entirely illiterate. Suzanna flicked through the pages, then closed the Codex hopelessly. She could not read.

She left it next to Alvan's bedroll, and curled up by the wall, hugging her knees.

Lukas returned from his scouting patrol. He roused Alvan, spoke quietly to him, and gave several orders to his knights before approaching her. He sat with her as they ate, but still said very little to her.

After she bid the knights goodnight, Lukas picked her up gently and carried her into the the small partitioned area.

He was careful of her, as always. As they entered, she could not hold back any longer.

"Why did you fight your way into the dungeon?" she whispered.

He froze, and she carried on. "You did not expect to see me there. You came for some other reason. What was it? What brought you all the way out here and into the lair of a mad sorcerer?"

He could not look at her as he laid her on the bed. She watched him, watched his movements. Again, he took off his armor, and stacked it beside the bed.

Lukas sat, turned away from her, and Suzanna observed the slump in his shoulders. His voice was quiet, too quiet to be overheard by the others. "I came to find my wife. She was taken from Bastion several months ago. The mages of my House spent a long time trying to trace her, and they told me that she had been taken to the dungeon where we found you."

He had said that they found others in the dungeon. Suzanna was horrified to think that his wife had faced the same torture that she had. "I am so sorry," she said.

He turned to look at her, and she saw how drawn and tired his face was. "Her name was – is – Sister Jaydanna Repentance. She is a nun in the House of Swords. I miss her."

The name, Jaydanna, resonated deeply in the core of her being. Something opened inside her mind. She was on the edge of a precipice, on the verge of toppling into a chasm of memory.

"Why do you stay with me every night?" she asked. "Why is it that I don't mind it? I don't even know if I should mind or not. But it seems right, and I don't know why."

Lukas sat down, and turned to her with anguish in his eyes. "I found my wife in the dungeon, Suzanna. I found a few remains that was probably her, or what was left of her after that damned sorcerer tortured her and killed her. She wasn't a daemon, and she couldn't survive what he did." He stopped, his voice almost cracking, and turned away as he tried to regain his composure. "You are not like any daemon I have ever seen, Suzanna. I know why you can't remember anything."

"You know why I don't remember? And you never said anything?" She tried to clutch at his shoulder weakly. "Please, whatever I used to be, I want to know!"

She knew the answer, even before he grabbed her hand. "He took a part of my wife and put it into you!" he hissed. "That fiend tore out her soul and fused it into you, into a daemon's flesh! Do you understand? He killed her for some twisted experiment, and now he's still free to commit other atrocities, and all I have left of my wife is you!"

He visibly shook himself, and let her go. "I know he did it," Lukas continued. "I can see her in your eyes, in the way you speak and the way you move. I knew from the very first moment I saw you. You know the language of a human. You act like a human, with morality and compassion, like Jaydanna did. You don't look like her, but a man will know his wife even if he was blind. I know that a part of her is in you." He put his head in his hands. "Alvan was right. You are a meldling, and he killed my wife to make you."

She glanced slowly downwards at her hands, trembling in fear and feeling sick with the knowledge that Jaydanna had been so brutally abused by the sorcerer. But beyond the horror was a sense of relief, of joy that the person she was now was not only the monster she had been before. She was not only a daemon. She was also Jaydanna, a good and kind woman.

A name rose in her mind, just out of her reach. He had a lordly name, used with respect by his knights, but he also had another deeper, more personal name.

She came back to the present, and the man sitting beside her. She touched Lukas lightly on the arm. "What is your heart-name?"

"Cedric," he muttered.

The syllables sang in her memories, like chimes in the wind. Jaydanna had said it many times before. She gripped his arm, trying to be comforting. "Cedric, I am sorry for what he did to her," she whispered. "I am so sorry. I wish there was some way for me to give back whatever part of Jaydanna still lives in me. I would do it gladly for you."

"There isn't any way," he said. "Jaydanna is gone. Alvan has said that a melding can never be undone. I must bring you to the Council, and if they take you away from me, I will have lost her a second time."

Tears began to flow down her cheeks. His voice ached with grief and loss, and her heart ached with it. She might never be able to repay Lukas and his knights for their kindness, and she certainly could not undo what had been done to Jaydanna. But if her life, pitiful and short as it was, had any meaning at all, she would stay with Lukas and ease his pain.

She reached out again, and took his hand. "I am here, Cedric. I am still here."

He suddenly turned towards her and took her in a rough embrace. It was mutual comfort; they had both suffered much, and it was easier to simply hold each other and forget the hurt for a time. She laid her head on his shoulder, and stroked his hair, even as her tears soaked into his shirt.

He held her as he had done before, and this time he wrapped his arms around her tightly, like a man afraid of letting go for fear of losing himself.

## Chapter Fourteen

### Ride by Starlight

The morning was warmer. Suzanna awoke to a slowly cooling bed and the smell of the rain outside. She lifted herself from the furs, and noticed that the movement was much less stiff than it had been before.

Lukas was gone, again. She had no idea what to think about what had happened between them.

_You feel something for him._

She curled into a ball, as if she could hide from her own thoughts. She felt something for Lukas—affection? Fondness? Was it really her that felt it, or just an echo of Jaydanna? Too many questions, and she didn't know where to look for answers.

She slowly pulled her legs out and rested them on the ground. Then, testing the weight gently on both of them, she levered her body off the bed and tried to stand up.

She might have managed it if not for the weight of her wings. They were still dead weight on her back, and until she got much of her strength back, they would remain so. She wavered for a moment and then toppled over, collapsing on the ground and pulling much of the furs down with her.

At first, she was too proud to call for help, but Suzanna began to panic as she lay helplessly on the cold earth and her legs kicked uselessly. She levered her body up to the bed, but could not muster the strength to drag herself onto it. She struggled to move, disregarding the furs that protected her from the chill.

She whimpered and desperately tried to pull herself onto the bed. Her muscles strained at the effort, aching with disuse and tiredness. Her legs were stronger, yes, but they did not have the strength to push her up. Suzanna gasped and moaned with pain, and was nearly about to cry when the canvas flap was pushed aside and Lukas returned.

He gave a short exclamation and quickly leaned down to lift her back onto the bed. He collected the fallen furs and covered her body, while she coughed and breathed hard.

"Are you injured?" he asked, concerned. "Did you fall?"

"No," she replied breathily. "Tried to stand... can't lift my wings..." She had pushed herself too far, too fast. That was a lesson learned.

He touched her cheek, and for a moment there was true tenderness in his eyes. "You are recovering faster than any human, but even a daemon cannot heal the damage done to you in such a short time. Please be careful, Suzanna. You will stand again, and walk again, but it will still take time. I don't want anything to happen to you." He stopped, aware that he might have said something untoward.

She coughed a little more, and smiled faintly at him. "I'm sorry, Cedric, but I do not want to be carried everywhere all the time. I don't want to be a burden."

Her use of his first name seemed to please him. It felt right for her to say it.

He shook his head. "You are not a burden to me. Never forget that. I will take care of you, for as long as I need to." He stood up, looking as he did like a lord about his business. "We still have a long day of travel ahead of us. I will get some breakfast from Maska, and we will be on our way again."

He left. Suzanna burrowed into the furs, and tried to rest. She dozed fitfully for maybe an hour, before Lukas woke her up with more rations and water.

They moved on. The mist had cleared and the sun was shining high in the sky, the air clear and cold and the breeze fresh. She smelled the faintest trace of salt in the wind, and asked Lukas about it.

"The White Sea lies to the west of us here," he said. "The Plain of Lost Hope spans much of this land."

As they rode onwards, the mountains grew bigger and bigger in the distance. Suzanna could make out foothills and a few scraggly trees, and the faintest suggestion of smoke coming from several points. There were only a few wisps, but they seemed to come from the very earth of the mountains themselves.

She tried to point at them, though her arms were a little constrained by the cloak. "What is that, up in the hills? The smoke?" she asked curiously.

Lukas shaded his eyes for a moment, peering into the distance. "They are the fires of the city. Bastion is very large, and the smoke must go somewhere. There are almost a million humans living under those peaks, and they have to eat and stay warm. The smoke is funneled through enormous chimneys, and there are a few vents to let them out which you can see up there."

Suzanna tried to imagine a million people living underground and failed. It seemed fantastical, unreal. How would they feed themselves? How would they survive, trapped under the earth and so far removed from the light and air?

She talked with Lukas as they travelled. He told her of the construction of Bastion, and the satellite towns around it. The war had become vicious and terrible, and humans died in the hundreds in the battles between the daemons and daevas. The Council of the Distant Nine took it upon themselves to begin hollowing out and expanding a large network of caves in the mountains, and in time they reached far into the bones of the earth. There they formed the city state of Bastion, and accepted any refugees or survivors as their own kin. There had been other states, other humanva nations, Lukas said, but Bastion had had no contact with them for a long time. Perhaps they had dug deep underground as well, or perhaps they had died in the infernos of the war. They would never know, not while battles were still fought on the surface.

Suzanna appreciated how much of a risk Lukas had taken in coming to the surface and searching for his wife. No humanva lived openly on the surface any more, and few visited it regularly. At any moment, a party of daemons or daevas could come by in their search for their enemy, and while they frequently left humans alone, many would kill them in case they gave away their position to the opposing forces. They were in mortal danger simply by being outside the caves that protected their people. She said as much to Lukas, but he simply shrugged. He had been following his wife, and no danger could have made him turn back.

In the dim light of the evening, she could spot tiny lights on the hills, presumably from the signal fires of the human outposts. They were still a day's travel from them at least, but they had made good time crossing the plain, even with the delay as they waited for her to heal enough to be moved. She felt stronger every day now, and delighted in each passing moment that her strength returned. Her daemonic half was proud, and relying on another was a little distasteful to her even though it was well needed. She had been at the mercy of a madman once, and there was a pressing need in her mind to become whole, so that she would never suffer that again.

At the moment she was at the mercy of Lukas and his knights. But now, as she slumped against his chest and tried to doze in the half-light, she knew that she trusted him to respect her, and protect her. Suzanna knew that he was right when he had said there was some part of his wife in her – she had an implicit faith in him that could not be denied.

Suddenly the wind picked up, and there was a faint, high pitched whine in the air that could not be only the breeze whistling. The knights looked around, and Lukas looked into the sky to find the source of the strange noise.

Suzanna tensed up. The odd whine was familiar, in a strange way. She clutched at Lukas, feeling more and more afraid.

His eyes widened as he looked up, and he shouted to the men. "Move on, quickly! Ride hard for the hills! Alvan, the shield!"

They all whipped the horses, and they thundered across the dry earth. Over Lukas' shoulder, Suzanna could see figures, high in the sky, flying across the plain towards the woods. Their wings were white against the blue, and they moved as fast as the wind.

Daevas.

Her heart nearly stopped in her chest, and she tightened her hold on Lukas as the horse galloped onwards. The sight of them was terrifying to her; but behind the fear she could sense rage. It was a subtle reminder of her daemonic flesh, and its need to fight against its enemy. Again, she remembered the face of the daeva who struck fear into her heart. Her instincts said that he was alive, and he was searching for her.

They rode hard for two hours, and by that time the horses were exhausted and slick with sweat. The daeva scouts had not followed, and it was debatable if they had even noticed their presence at all. Lukas was understandably nervous, and they stopped for a short time to let the horses rest before continuing on.

He called the knights together, leaving Suzanna sitting on his horse. He stood, armor gleaming in the weak sunlight, on a small rock, surrounded by his loyal men.

"We cannot risk being seen by any more daemonva during the day, even with the shield. We suspect that they were looking for something in the woods near the sorcerer's lair, and it is possible that they were looking for Suzanna, but we cannot let her be found by them. She will be brought to Bastion alive and well, or not at all."

His voice was deep and stern, commanding as a lord should. "We will ride through the night, while Alvan rests. Without the shield, we must hide our tracks. Eisun, you will follow behind us and make sure we leave no trace. Maska and Alton, you ride ahead as scouts. All others form around me. No torches; we will navigate by starlight. We must make the hills by tomorrow morning, and we must reach the Outpost soon after. Now eat and drink a little, rest, and we will move out as soon as the horses are ready."

Suzanna watched them break up and tend to their steeds. They all ate something, and Alvan gave her a little meat and water. She felt too nervously sick to eat much, but the hunger could override that somewhat. Lukas tended his and Alvan' horses, rubbing down their legs and giving them as much water as they could spare.

Within half an hour, they were moving again, this time at a brisk trot. Mile after mile passed by as they moved on, and Suzanna's anxiety grew with every moment. She could almost sense a great danger behind her, and the possibility of great danger ahead of her. But between the daevas and the humans, she would certainly choose the humans, no matter what they did to her.

The night was crisp and bright, and the stars were perfectly visible in the dark heavens. Suzanna felt that they watched over her, willing to arrive safely in Bastion. The group was all tired, the horses were tired, but they could not stop. The hills were so close she felt as if she could reach out and touch them, but they were still some hours away. If they could keep up the pace, they would be there by nightfall.

The daevas were nowhere to be seen. Suzanna could only hope that they would not find them, but she had some knowledge, some strange knowing that suggested they would not try to search in the dark. They were safe as long as they travelled by night.

An hour after the sun set, and dusk was fading quickly, there was a dull thump and crack from behind them. As the knights wheeled their horses in readiness for battle, they were met with an awesome sight – that of a plume of bright, white fire in the middle of the wood, and a flickering that suggested flame. Suzanna knew in her heart it was the sorcerer's tower. The daevas had found it and destroyed it, and possibly found the trail that led out of the wood and onto the plain. Her skin went cold with fear.

Lukas had turned his horse and half drawn his sword, his other arm wrapped around her protectively. His face was drawn and stern, and lined with worry. She was all at once grateful that he was here with her, and guilty that she was the cause of his concern.

They moved on. There was nothing to be done other than get to the hills quickly, and get underground.

## Chapter Fifteen

### Sword and Lightning

Suzanna awoke with a bump, and realized she had fallen asleep on the horse. It was dawn, and the ground underfoot was rocky and uneven. Lukas looked exhausted, as did the other knights, but the land was rising steadily and they had made it, into the hills. Behind them, the plain was already fading away into a grey swathe of desolation.

There was a path of sorts. Really it was simply an area of hillside that was less rocky than the surrounding area, but the knights knew it and followed it precisely, though Suzanna could hardly distinguish it at times. The land was little more than scrub and rock and small tufts of grass here, but still she could see small flecks of color in bright flowers that peaked out from under the fallen boulders, and the occasional bird that darted from bush to bush. This land was naturally barren, and even so some life could still flourish here; by contrast the plain had a small amount of hardy life, but was almost inimical to it.

They moved swiftly in spite of the terrain and their tiredness. The horses seemed to know where they were going, and worked their way up the rocky path with confidence. Soon, they were high above the Plain of Lost Hope, and Suzanna could look back across it and see the faint smudge that was the forest far away on the other side. It was almost astonishing to her that they had crossed all that so easily. The plain was like a grey sea at this distance, a barrier that announced to the world how futile it was to cross it and search for something better on the other side.

Suzanna thought, as they travelled, about the wood and the mountains. Humans lived underground and in fear of their lives, because of this war. They could live outside, in the air and light, if only the daemonva would withdraw and let them. It galled her, turned her stomach, that this war was not only hurting them directly, but robbing them of the horizon.

The mountains were beautiful, in a way. The rocky landscape drew its own pictures in her mind, of large castles and towers of red brick soaring into a crimson sky, lights twinkling around them and spinning through them in their own unfathomable dance. She saw figures flying around them, some in formation and some simply drifting on the wind. Her fractured memory threw up a name that matched her new recollections – Halca, the home of the daemons, a place where no human had ever been to and returned to speak of it. She knew, without knowing how, that this was because no human could walk through the veil... and the veil was the way to Halca.

Her memory failed. What was the veil? She still could not recall the specifics of it, only that it was the way to the home of the daemons. Maybe it was a entrance, or a portal.

There was snow, up high on the mountain peaks. It was like a dusting that hid the dark grey rock, marking the crags and high peaks in sharp contrast. Suzanna wondered briefly if there was ever snow on the lower slopes.

As the day wore on, the path became more defined and less rocky. As it did so, Suzanna became more nervous and fearful. They were getting closer to the Outpost, to other humans. She was afraid that they would take her from Lukas and the knights, and maybe imprison them all. Her memories were flickering with the knowledge of how humans felt about daemonva, and she could not expect them to react well. She clung to Lukas, and shivered in the cold air.

After a time, the lord called a halt. Up ahead they could see the faint wisps of smoke that indicated a vent from Bastion. Lukas looked about, his face hard, then called a rest for half an hour. They were safe enough here, and the horses were almost spent.

He dismounted, bringing her down. She was quite confused, and caught his arm before he turned away. "Why are we stopping?" she asked with some concern. "We are close to the city, are we not?"

Lukas took her hand gently. "We must be careful," he said. "I must make sure to get you in safely, even if I must deceive the guards. Your appearance will make people afraid." He squeezed her hand briefly, and she caught the protective look in his eye before he went to rub down his horse.

With only a half hour's rest, they were ready to leave again. This time, Lukas wrapped the cloak tightly around her and lifted the hood over her face, while Alvan gave her his riding gloves and wrapped her feet with bandages. Her skin and wings were hidden from sight. She could only hope that it was enough.

They walked the horses, following the path slowly. Soon, tall stakes appeared on either side of it, blackened and sooty at the top from being lit every night. It was the first sign of real habitation Suzanna had seen so far, and it filled her with a certain amount of dread.

They turned a bend in the path, and there before them was a wide, flat area, clear of rock and scrub. At one side of it was a tall entrance into the mountain, flanked by two tall carved columns of solid granite, and topped with another. It was tall enough for a man on horseback to walk through with plenty of headroom, and wide enough for ten men to walk abreast comfortably. It was foreboding, dangerous in her eyes. There were no people anywhere outside, but she could see tiny slits in the rock on either side of the doorway, and she could not doubt that they were being watched.

Lukas walked boldly up to the entrance and stopped. His knights stopped in formation behind him, with Alvan moving forward to stand beside him. He held up one arm in salute, then called out.

"I am Lord Lukas, of the House of Justice, returned from the Plain of Lost Hope!"

There was a faint noise, then a man in armor appeared. He was old, a little older than Alvan, and very obviously a warrior. His armor was shined, but dented and scratched in a few places, and his face was scarred across and down. He carried a tall shield on one arm which was emblazoned with the same symbol that adorned the tents the knights carried. It was embossed into it – a sword with strikes of lightning.

He stood at attention and saluted. "Lord Lukas, returned from the Plain of Lost Hope!" He stood back and to one side. "The outpost of the Distant Third is open to you and your men. Be welcome among us."

Lukas saluted again, and moved the horse on to a walk. The knights fell in behind him and Alvan, and they all went through the entrance.

The dark gloom enveloped them all. Suzanna could see nothing for a time, then her eyes adjusted to the dim light and she could make out the tunnel wall and floor as it sloped down into the earth. It was smoothed and worked, not like the rough stone she had been expected. It was also carved with writing and pictures.

It seemed that the entire history of Bastion had been written on the walls as it was being built. She could make out fragments of work logs, diagrams, schematics for machinery, notes on different craftsmen. As they walked along, she could look into the tunnels that led off the main passage, and see more rooms and tunnels and even benches and tables carved out of the rock. There was little enough light here, but farther on she could make out a stronger illumination.

They passed through another large archway, and the chamber opened out before her. The cave was bright and airy, and she could see vents in the ceiling to let out smoke. There were smaller vents along the walls, where a few people were cooking over compact coal fires; galleries and balconies with vines and flowers hanging from them; innumerable banners of every color and crest. There was an air of bustle and business here, as people wandered about leading horses or donkeys with packs of food and other goods. The middle of the chamber was a huge marketplace, where people laid their wares out on the ground and offered them to passerbys. The ceiling was a marvel, a large sheet of brightly glowing crystal that seemed to be fixed into the rock but could not be natural. It lit the cave as bright as day.

Suzanna stopped herself from gasping, and, as she recovered from the shock of the sight, she became very nervous. It would take only a small mistake here for someone to see her and incite a panic among these people. They could not know how injured and weak she was. They would only see a daemon, and, for a human, the daemonva meant death. They did not have to hate her in order to hurt her.

Lukas was calm and reassuring, and walked on. No one took much notice of them; it was probable that they recognized he was a lord, and his business was the business of a noble, not theirs. They made way for him, and otherwise ignored him.

The party made their way through the market, and on to the tunnels leading off it. One had a large symbol, which Suzanna was beginning to think of as the symbol of the knights, above the stone lintel. Lukas approached it without hesitation, and stopped just before the entrance.

"This is one of the temples of the Knights of Bastion," he whispered in her ear. "You will be safe here, I promise you." He dismounted carefully, making sure to keep her covered, and handed the horse over to Alton. The knights followed suit, and the horses were taken away in due time to be cared for and rested.

Lukas walked into the temple, and Suzanna immediately noticed the vaulted ceiling, carved from the rock of the mountain. It was like... memory flickered for a moment, and she saw a drawing of a tall building with a high, sloped roof and colored glass windows. It was only a passing image, but she knew it for the truth it was; this temple was an imitation of the building she remembered, its interior copied in stone in the mountain city. Jaydanna had seen it once, in a book of history.

There was a bare altar, and a large carved motif of the same sword and lightning symbol that appeared wherever the knights were. Leading off the large square room were several smaller passageways, and a tall man in beautifully ornate armor appeared from one of them. He wore a small coronet around his head, and she could make out streaks of grey hair under the thin golden band.

Lukas seemed grim. This man was probably a superior to him, and now the only question on Suzanna's mind was whether he would tell him about her.

The man stopped before Lukas and saluted him smartly. Lukas bowed as best he could while carrying Suzanna.

"Lord Lukas, it is good to have you back safe. And I see you were successful! You found Jaydanna alive and well!" He stepped forward to see her face, but Lukas turned away and prevented him.

"Lord Valiant," he said gravely, "there is much here I cannot speak about, and much you need to be told about Jaydanna. The sorcerer escaped, and is still at large beyond the Plain of Lost Hope."

Lord Valiant nodded, his face a little worried. "The temple is at your disposal, of course. Come, carry her into one of the private rooms. I hope my expertise will help with whatever problem you have."

Lukas bowed again, dismissed the other knights. They and Alvan left them, and Suzanna's nervousness increased. Lukas followed Valiant across the hall and into one of the smaller passages. It led down a short corridor, lit with small chunks of the same bright crystal that the market cave had had, and the walls were carved and painted with scenes of knights on horseback and on foot in various depictions of battle or tournament. Their footsteps echoed forlornly on the hard stone.

Valiant turned to a door, marked with the symbol of the knights and a large motif of a red cross. He pushed it open, and led Lukas inside. Suzanna was alone with her companion and this unknown man.

The room beyond was small and sparsely furnished. There was one large comfortable bed, a small side-table, and little else. The crystal in the roof was half-lit, and the bed was made up with thick sheets embroidered with the knights' crest. The walls were bare, except for lines of text carved into them, perhaps from their book that Suzanna had seen so often in Alvan' hands.

Lukas brought her to the bed and laid her down carefully, ensuring the hood shadowed her face. Valiant appeared surprised and concerned. "Lukas, what could possibly be wrong with her that you took the trouble of keeping her hidden? Surely she did not catch anything from the sorcerer?" He moved to the side of the bed and reached for the hood.

Lukas caught his hand. "Valiant, Jaydanna is dead," he said in a quiet voice. "She died in his dungeon, and all I found were her remains."

Valiant looked at him with despair and horror in his eyes. "My dear cousin... I am sorry, Cedric," he said. He gripped Lukas' arm tightly in sympathy. "If there is anything I can do..." Realization suddenly struck him as he looked back at Suzanna. "But who is this then? Another survivor?"

Lukas reached out slowly, and drew the hood back from Suzanna's face. "No, Valiant. She is a daemon."

Valiant leapt away with an oath, and struggled to draw his sword from the sheath. Suzanna cowered away from him, terrified that he would strike her down as she sat there on the bed. Lukas lunged forward, however, and he wrestled the sword from Valiant's grasp and held him back from her.

"Look at her, Valiant!" he shouted. "Look at her face, her eyes! She is not like the others!"

The two struggled together as Valiant tried to wrest his sword from Lukas' grip.

"It is a daemon, man, have you lost your mind?!" he yelled. "You brought a daemon into our own halls! Do you think it will not kill us all as soon as it pleases?!"

"No!" Lukas finally dragged the sword from the other knight, who backed away up to the wall, staring at the lord and Suzanna in anger and consternation. Lukas threw the sword off behind the bed, and stood protectively between her and Valiant.

"Do you know what I found, deep in that madman's dungeon? I found a few bits of meat and bone that used to be my wife, and I found her," he said with steel in his voice. "You know what he was exiled for. He melded her into a daemon's body! She is compassionate, and moral, and she acts just like Jaydanna. I know her, Valiant, and I know something of her still lives even if it is inside the body of a daemon."

"You are mad!" Valiant said. "They are not like us, Lukas. They are dangerous animals, all of them!"

"I am sorry." Suzanna's quiet voice cut through the angry tones, and both men fell silent. "I am not daemonva. I don't feel like a daemon. I don't remember anything, except my time with Lord Lukas and his knights." She shifted uneasily, and her hands clutched the cloak of their own accord. "I would never hurt you," she whispered. In her mind's eye she saw the dungeon again, and the terrible aching darkness that had almost swallowed her whole. And Lukas, pulling her down from the wall and carrying her out into the moonlight and starlight.

"Lord Lukas and his knights saved me," she said. "I would never hurt anyone." She trailed off, and looked helplessly at Lukas. It would take more than words to convince Valiant.

The knight stared at her with deep suspicion. "So it can speak the language of humans. That doesn't mean anything, Lukas."

Suzanna's memory stirred. The line of his jaw, the subtle tone and inflection in the voice... She knew this man, in some way. Jaydanna had known him. She remembered him laughing at some joke, laughing because... a squire... had played a prank on a knight...

"There was a horse," she said, looking off into the distance. "And Namian had sworn he could tame it, but he didn't know that your squire had loosened the saddle, so he was thrown off on the first buck and lost seven coins to you." For a moment, she lived in the memory, and saw the consternation on Valiant's face as he handed over his money. She felt her hand patting him on the shoulder in mocking yet good humored consolation. The scene fluttered, wavered, then disintegrated, and as it faded back into the shattered mirror of her psyche, she could feel Lukas holding her shoulders.

The sudden disorientation eased slowly. She still breathed hard, and her hands shook like she had tried to lift Bastion out of the mountain. Lukas had his arm around her, rubbing her back and supporting her body.

Valiant looked at her with an expression of complete amazement. "How do you know that name?" he demanded, pointing at her accusingly. "That happened almost twenty years ago! Who did you torture, to get that information out of them? How did –"

"Enough, Valiant!" Lukas snapped. "She didn't torture anyone. I told you, she's a meldling. She has some of Jaydanna's memories. We found her chained up in the dungeon of the sorcerer, and I can tell you she was tortured more by him than any human could possibly survive. He staked her to a stone wall by her wings, and seemed to make a hobby out of cutting her up."

Valiant went silent. He obviously knew the sorcerer, whether by reputation or not.

Lukas picked up his sword, and walked slowly towards Valiant. He offered it to him by the hilt.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, my friend," he said. "I knew if I brought her back here that this would happen, but I could not leave her in that dark hole to die. She is still my Jaydanna." He looked at her with such feeling that she was almost too embarrassed to return his gaze. "I believe that she is no danger to anyone here. In fact, she is in more danger from us than we are from her. The sight of her will cause a panic."

Suzanna's heart almost leapt in her chest. Lukas thought of her as his wife! The way he said it made her sure that he believed it implicitly. Her mind was tangled and broken, but she knew that she felt something deeper for him too. She realized that, even though she was very afraid about Valiant and what he could do to her, she was still overjoyed to know that Lukas felt as he did.

"We only have your word and hers that it will not destroy this entire city at the first opportunity," Valiant said guardedly. "I will not trust a daemon, Lukas, not for any reason under the sun. They have the strength of twenty men and they are evil to the core."

"So you would have me take her back out into the wilderness? Maybe leave her for the daevas? It would be kinder to kill her here."

Suzanna began to tremble in fear. She knew that Lukas would not harm her, but she had no such assurances about the other knight, and once more people knew that a daemon had entered Bastion...

"I know you don't want me here –" she spoke up, but Valiant cut her off.

"Silence, daemon, or I might cut out your tongue," he said nastily. Suzanna flinched away.

Lukas' face darkened, and before Valiant could move a muscle, his sword was out and at his throat.

"I will have your word, cousin, that you will not speak of her to anyone, and you will not hurt her while she is here."

Valiant stared at him incredulously, but Lukas' eyes were hard. "You have been bewitched by daemonva magic," he spoke slowly, trying to avoid the sharp blade.

Lukas lifted it a little higher. "Be that as it may, but she is still my wife, and a helpless creature. No knight worth his sword will harm a being that cannot defend itself, and no man worth his name will allow his wife to come to harm."

Valiant looked from him to Suzanna,

"Your word, Valiant," Lukas said again.

The other knight nodded carefully. Lukas lowered the sword, and Valiant laid his hand on the hilt of his.

"I swear by the sword, by the code, and by the House of Justice that I will not harm your daemon, nor tell anyone of its presence." He spoke the words very much unwillingly, then glared at Suzanna in exasperation.

"If you are wrong..." he growled sidelong at Lukas while he stared at the daemon.

"If I am wrong, dear cousin, I will kill her myself and then fall on my sword, and spare the House my shame."

Valiant scowled, and turned to leave. "I will bring food, water and whatever else you need. I will return in an hour, if nothing else happens in the meantime to call me back. If I am honor bound to keep this secret, I might as well make sure my cousin is well fed and looked after," he said. Then he slipped outside and was gone.

Lukas visibly relaxed, and Suzanna relaxed with him. Things were better, with just the two of them. There was less need for explanation and talk. Only them, and each other's company.

He stood by the bed, and helped her slip under the covers. She maneuvered her wings awkwardly, tucking them away behind her as she lay on her side. He took his cloak, rolled it up, and left it by the bed as he always did. It was an odd comfort, a little point of familiarity in this strange enclosed world.

Suzanna looked at him, studying him with deep attention. "You think I am your wife," she said hesitantly.

He looked at her with a guarded expression, and then looked away. "I know you are not, Suzanna. But I can see Jaydanna in you. My darling wife, I miss her so much, and I see her smile every time you smile." He rubbed his face, and for the first time Suzanna noticed how tired he was. He had ridden hard for almost two days to get her here safely, and it that time he had not slept. "I don't want to lose her, even if she lives in another body now. I love her as much as any man may love a woman, and believe me when I say that my love has not changed one bit because of it."

"But what about me?" she asked. "I am Suzanna, not Jaydanna. Can you love me, a daemon?"

His face held the same anguish that she had seen on the night he had stayed with her out on the Plain of Lost Hope. "They say that love does not see the skin," he said slowly. "It knows only the heart, and the soul. I haven't decided yet whether that is true."

She looked down at her hands, with their grey skin and scars, unable to say anything more.

Lukas stood suddenly, and went to the door. "I will be back soon," he said. "I must go and speak with Valiant and with Alvan. Rest a while, you will be safe here, I promise." Then he was gone as well, and the door thudded shut with a grim sense of finality.

Suzanna tried to sleep. She missed the wind, and the sounds outside. The sound here was muffled and distant, like the dungeon. So deep underground... so close and confining and...

She dreamed of the blackness of the cell she had been kept in, the stabbing pain of knives and needles. Rough hands binding her with chains as she struggled. Rough voices laughing, almost familiar. And the sorcerer, his eyes gleaming in the dark, his hands reaching for her flesh and abusing it in ways that made her twist against her bonds and scream and scream and scream....

She flailed about madly, screaming as the dream slipped away from her conscious mind. Lukas held her arms, trying to calm her down. Her breath was quick and stuttered, her skin drenched in sweat. The sheets were wrapped around her legs and body, and felt like the chains in the nightmare.

Suzanna shook with fear, and began to sob pitifully. She weakly kicked the sheets away from her, and curled up into a ball on the bed. Lukas held her head, stroked her hair and spoke soothingly to her, but she could not hear him. She simply cried in the lingering pain and anguish of the memories.

After a time the tears stopped. She had exhausted herself completely. Suzanna was aware of Lukas speaking to someone, and then she felt the soft furs being laid across her body. She clutched at them, burying her face in them. They smelled of horse and sweat and earth; familiar, safe, and happy.

Then she felt the warmth of Lukas' arms around her, and she drifted off to sleep again. This time, she did not dream.

## Chapter Sixteen

### Little Victories

Maybe it was morning, but Suzanna had no frame of reference here in the depths of the mountain. There was no sky, no sun to wake her, but her body remembered the rhythm of sunrise and sunset. But she had woken in warmth, curled up against Lukas, and the weight of his body was comforting. Perhaps he didn't love her, but he did care for her in some way.

Her eyes felt tired and sore from her crying. She felt worn, exhausted though she had slept well. The vague memory left by the dream shook her again, and again she shivered in fear and imagined pain.

Lukas had awoken beside her, and he held her close as she trembled. She squeezed his hand tightly, closing her eyes and willing her mind to forget.

The furs were warm, as always, and they tickled her nose when she burrowed into them. The sheets she had tried to sleep in were bundled off to one side, forgotten. She looked at them nervously; she did not want to have another nightmare like the one she had experienced last night.

Lukas sat up, and touched her shoulder gently. "Suzanna," he whispered. "Suzanna, are you awake?"

He must have been worried that she was still dreaming. "Yes," she whispered in reply.

"It is not my place to ask, but what did you dream of?"

She considered not telling him, but Lukas was her husband. The thought shook her a little. It had settled in her and would not be budged; it felt like a certainty, an anchor in the sea of her mind. He was hers and she was his and that was the end of the matter, even though Jaydanna had felt this and not Suzanna.

"I dreamt of the dungeon, and of the sorcerer," she said quietly. "When I was captured..." Her voice cracked. She did not have the strength to put it into words, to give a name and an identity to the things that had been done to her. The same things had been done to both Jaydanna and the daemon. She felt the duality of them, as if they had repeated themselves in her recollection.

He did not push her further. She tried to banish the memories again, her hands shaking as she gripped the furs. Lukas wrapped his arms around her, and in his warmth she felt safe and happy. She rolled over and buried her face in his chest, smelling his musky scent, so comforting and gentle.

For a time they lay there, and Suzanna dozed again as Lukas softly stroked her hair. Before she fell asleep, she felt a faint kiss on her forehead.

When she woke for the second time, Suzanna was refreshed and rested. Lukas was gone, again, and there was a plate of food and a cup of water sitting on the little side table.

She mused for a moment. Their relationship seemed destined to be complicated.

She pushed back the furs and swung her legs off the bed, then pulled her wings in close to her body. They folded up very neatly, and barely brushed the bed while she was sitting down. She placed her feet on the ground, ignoring the chill in the stone and the goosebumps on her bare flesh. Then she pushed herself up onto her feet again, this time keeping one hand on the wall. Her muscles strained, and the ache in them was almost crippling. But she stood on her own feet, bearing the weight of her wings, and only wobbled a little. She laughed, and basked in the feeling of quiet victory.

The plate was heavy enough, and she could not trust her legs to hold her up if she tried to pick it up. Her strength was enough, but her balance was still questionable. Suzanna sat on the bed, and pulled the plate onto it along with the water skin. She curled up in the furs and munched her way through breakfast.

There was cold meat, and fruit, and soft bread. It was delicious to her senses, the smell and taste and texture of every bit of it. She didn't even know what the fruit was called; it was bright red and a little crunchy, but sweet and filling. All of it was devoured in quick time, and the skin of water washed it down.

Suzanna wondered briefly if Lukas was going to return soon. She didn't dare leave the room; it was entirely too dangerous. But she had nothing to fill her time, not even the sensation that she had enjoyed in the camp. No rain to listen to, no knights to watch, nothing to hear or see or feel other than the cold walls of this room and the bed and the table. It sent echoes of the dungeon time through her mind, unpleasant and foreboding.

She lay down again, this time on her front, and tried to move her wings. The muscles strained and ached at the effort, but she wanted to fly again someday and she needed her wings. The membranes had healed over, even though there was still a faint network of lines where they had been torn.

Her wings opened slowly and painfully, stretching the scarred skin, but they opened. She moved them cautiously, and judged that she could still use them; whatever damage had been done to her in the dungeon had healed over well, and if she could get her strength back she would fly again.

Suzanna sighed in happiness, and rolled over onto her back, folding her wings as she did so. She was glad to know that the wind might still be hers.

The door creaked, and before she could move, it opened to reveal Lukas in his armor. She sat up quickly, looked at him with shining eyes.

"Cedric, I have something to show you!" she said excitedly. "Look, watch me!" She swung her legs off the bed, and once again heaved herself up. He ran forward to catch her, but she stood, still wobbling, on her feet and smiled at him. She had to steady herself on the bed as well, but she was supported her own weight.

He smiled at her, and hugged her gently. She returned the embrace, happy to be sharing this little moment of joy with him.

"Sit down, I have something for you," he said. Suzanna sat back on the bed, and he went back to pick up the bundle he had dropped to the ground. It was a parcel bound up with thin ribbon.

He put it on the bed and then began to unwrap it. Suzanna watched in increasing amazement as he pulled out a dark red dress with grey trim—sturdy, warm, and with a high collar that would frame her face.

Lukas handed it to her, along with some undergarments. "I'm not sure what daemons wear, but you must have something. I thought this was about right."

Suzanna took it, entranced. It was very soft, and very warm. She held it against her cheek for a moment smelling the fabric. "Thank you," she said, smiling again. "It's so pretty. Did it cost much?"

"No. This is quite a plain dress, and only made of wool. It wouldn't cost much at all."

She hummed in wonder. The dress was very nice, a lovely present. She pulled on the undergarments and tugged the dress over her head.

It quickly became apparent that her wings would not fit. A dress made for a human simply would not go over them, and although she tried to wriggle this way and that, it was too small. She was ready to cry; she could not wear it.

Lukas considered for a moment, then drew out belt knife. "Hold still a moment." He carefully sliced through the wool, cutting out a pair of slits at the back of the dress. She slipped her wings through, and it just barely fitted her.

She tried to twirl, and almost fell over. Lukas caught her and they both laughed. "How do I look?" she said, smiling happily at him.

He smiled back, and gently touched her cheek. "You look very nice."

He sat her back down on the bed, and sat down beside her. "I will have to bring you out soon. Valiant will not say anything about you, but there are other ways he can make trouble and I do not trust him to stay here for too long. I have to bring you into the heart of Bastion to meet the Council."

She blanched at the mention of them. "I trust you, Cedric," she said quietly, "but I am afraid of them. I'm afraid of what they might do to me." She twisted the wool of her dress under her hands in nervousness.

He laid his hand on hers. "The Council are not just any humans, they are all powerful wizards. They may have many questions for you, but they will see you for what you really are, I promise you."

She looked at him apprehensively, but in truth, what was the worst they could do? The sorcerer would have done all that and more. Not for the first time she wondered if he was really humanva, like Lukas and Alton and Valiant and Alvan. Her fragmented memory suggested he looked like one, although there was an odd other-worldliness about him.

Lukas stood, and held out his hand. She stared at it, puzzled, before realization dawned and she accepted his help in order to stand up. He took both her hands, and stepped back from her, holding her at arms' reach.

"Try to walk," he said encouragingly. Suzanna gulped, and slid out one foot.

She began to walk slowly, wobbling all the way. Step by step, she moved around the bed, with Lukas holding her and helping her keep her balance. Her legs were still aching and sore with effort, but with every passing moment she felt stronger and more sure of herself.

Lukas smiled at her as she laughed and teetered from side to side. She tired quickly, but it was another small victory, and she said as much as she sat down on the bed again.

He nodded in agreement. "You are getting your strength back, certainly. Soon you'll be able to fly again."

He looked concerned, as if a worry was nagging at his mind.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked

"Suzanna," he said, "Are you willing to stay with me? I know you grateful to me, but I have brought you into a very dangerous place for someone who looks like a daemon. Do you want to stay with me, and go to see the Council? Are you happy to be with me?"

She stopped him. "I can't deny that I'm worried, Cedric," she said. "But where else would I go? I have nothing, except for you and your kindness. I do want to stay with you."

He smiled, and clasped her hands for a moment. Suzanna felt that he was anxious, perhaps, of losing the last fragment of his wife. He needed her as much as she needed him.

He stood, and pulled her up. "Come," he said, "I want to show you something."

"But I will be seen," she gasped. "And my wings, I can't hide them!"

"Don't worry," he said. "The private rooms of the temple are closed to everyone but the knights. You will be quite safe."

## Chapter Seventeen

### The Honor of Daemons

Lukas led her outside slowly, being careful of her staggering, uncertain step. The corridor was empty, and the door out to the main hall was closed. He gestured in the opposite direction, and they continued along the passage.

They walked only a few minutes. The temple was a maze of little corridors and doors, each leading to rooms Suzanna could not guess at. Lukas seemed to know the way, and he led her about with confidence.

They stopped at a room with a large symbol of a scroll engraved on it. Lukas took a key from his pocket, and unlocked it. The door moved with a creak.

Inside was a huge room, and it was filled from ceiling to floor in books. As they entered, a large crystal hanging in the centre of the room illuminated the dozens of bookcases, hundred and hundreds of tomes. The room was perfectly round and domed, and up on the roof Suzanna could make out dozens of pictures of knights and their symbols, and names. She stared in wonder, and felt the urge to run her hands along the book spines.

She walked forward, and immediately stumbled. She had forgotten about her instability. Lukas guided her to a chair, then went back and locked the door.

"This is beautiful!" she said. "Is this the temple's library?"

Lukas smiled at her. "I thought you might like this. Jaydanna loved to read." His smile faded for a second at the mention of his wife. "You can stay here as long as you like."

Suzanna faltered as she caught his meaning. "Cedric, I don't remember how to read. Alvan showed me his Codex, and I didn't understand any of it."

"Maybe you just need to jog your memory." Lukas picked up a book at random and handed it to her. She took it with apprehension, then closed her eyes and opened it.

As she opened her eyes again, the words on the page seemed meaningless to her. The symbols were alien and strange, but some few were familiar in some odd way. She sighed in frustration, and traced her finger along the page unhappily. Not everything from her former selves had survived, it seemed.

"You don't understand it?" Lukas asked, and she shook her head in reply.

"I don't know any of this," she said in a despairing voice. "It seems familiar, maybe, but I can't read it."

He sat on a stool beside her and pointed at a particular symbol. "This means 'tinder', and this means 'wood'," he explained. "This is a book on cooking, and it starts with how to build a fire..."

His words faded from her ears as she stared at the page. The words leapt out at her, becoming 'tinder' and 'wood'. Looking at them, it seemed so obvious. Then another part of her memory 'clicked', and the rest of the page suddenly became real. She began to read from the beginning out loud.

Lukas stared at her in puzzlement. "But you do understand?" he said uncertainly.

Suzanna looked at him with wonder in her eyes, and stopped reading. "I didn't understand, until you showed the words to me. It was the same when I tried to speak! I didn't understand human language until Alvan talked to me. I do not know what language I spoke before then, but I am sure it was not the human tongue."

She turned a page, and looked at the recipes listed in the book with interest. "Maybe I could read the script of the daemons until this moment. But I cannot remember what I knew."

Lukas touched her shoulder lightly. "Is it so important?" he asked. "I do not think we will be meeting many daemons soon. Perhaps you will remember their language when you hear it, or see it written."

Suzanna shrugged. The workings of her memory were a mystery to her.

They spent the day reading, with Suzanna asking for books and Lukas fetching them from the high shelves. She learned so much, so fast; on history, music, art, and more mundane subjects like crafting. Much of what she read, she did not understand at first, and Lukas spent as much time explaining as he did reading.

She found a book about the daemonva, and opened it eagerly. One fact immediately jumped out at her.

"Cedric, what color are my eyes?" she asked.

He looked at her in puzzlement for a moment. "They are blue, Suzanna. You do not remember?"

She did remember. Her eyes were blue. Her skin was grey, and she had white hair. But the book said that daemons had black eyes.

It felt familiar and not familiar at the same time. It was right and normal that her eyes were blue, but another part of her said that they should be black. Eyes as black as blood.... The strange duality between Jaydanna and Sunekhar returned, and made her feel completely off-balance.

Lukas touched her gently on the arm, and she snapped out of her reverie. "Is it important?" he asked. "I am sure I can find a mirror or something similar to show you."

She shivered.

"Why do you want to know about your eyes?" he asked.

"I remembered something, when I was in the dungeon," she said with difficulty. "The sorcerer called me Sunekhar, and I recall my eyes being black."

Lukas frowned. "Since we brought you out, your eyes have been blue. I have never seen them any other." He looked away for a moment. "Jaydanna's eyes were blue."

There was a knock at the door, and she looked up in fright. Lukas quickly got up and went to it, calling out as he did so. "Who is it?"

A muffled voice answered. "It's Valiant. I thought I'd find you here. I brought a tray for you."

He unlocked the door, but kept his hand on his sword hilt. Valiant stepped into the room carrying a tray of the same fare Suzanna had had for breakfast. He looked around, and nearly dropped the tray in surprise when he saw her.

Lukas hastily helped him balance it, as he began to grumble about giving perfectly good dresses to creatures who didn't deserve them. Suzanna looked on anxiously, afraid that he would try something, but all seemed normal as they manhandled the tray to a table.

Valiant glared at her, then spoke to Lukas. "She should not be brought out of the room, Lukas, and she should not be given anything of ours."

"Oh? And you would prefer if she had to walk around naked and shivering then?" Lukas snapped. Valiant continued to grumble anyway.

Suzanna despaired of ever convincing humans at large to accept her, but at least she could try with Valiant. She reached out to him.

"Would you stay with us, Lord Valiant? Stay and eat with us?" she asked.

The knight looked at her with distaste, clearly unwilling to come anywhere near her. She tried again.

"I know you do not like my presence, but I am no danger to you or anyone here. Please, give me a chance, if only that. On my honor, I will stay away from you if you wish it."

"What does a daemon know of honor?" Valiant growled. "There was no honor, when a pack of your kind chased a daeva through the northern passes last summer and came upon one of our hunting parties. We never found half of their bodies."

He advanced on her menacingly. "I could tell you a hundred tales like that, and each one is gruesome, and lacking in honor."

Suzanna shrank in her chair. She felt like she would vomit, and looked up at Valiant's grim face in fear. Her voice was shaky and quiet. "I am sorry," she whispered.

Lukas stepped forward between them. "Leave her, Valiant. She does not remember anything of her life before the dungeon."

"I say you are a fool, Lukas. You cannot trust it."

Suzanna whimpered, and tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn't tolerate this. "Please, if you hate me so much, why are you still here?" she said. "Why not kill me, and kill Cedric? I have suffered so much, I don't fear death anymore. If you wish it... then..." She staggered to her feet, steadying herself on the back of the chair. "Kill me."

Valiant grabbed the hilt of his sword, and made to draw it. But he stopped, staring hard at her face, and slowly released it. Lukas had half-drawn his own sword, but likewise stopped.

"A knight will not harm a helpless creature," he said with some difficulty. "If I kill you, it will be in a fair fight, if a daemon could possibly take part in a fair fight." He grimaced at her. "What do you even plan to do with it, Lukas? Hide it away for the rest of its life?"

"She is not an 'it', Valiant. I will bring her to the Council," Lukas said firmly. "They will find her even if I try to hide her, and they will know her for what she really is."

Valiant snorted derisively. "Walking into the mouth of the dragon, eh? I have no doubt the Council will cleanse 'her' so thoroughly there will be nothing left." He laughed harshly and humorlessly.

Suzanna gulped. "What do you mean, I will be cleansed?"

Valiant laughed again, and looked sidelong at Lukas.

"You never said a word to her, did you? Any one of the Distant Nine could cleanse the daemonva essence from you, strip it right out of your body. I expect when they are done with you, there will not be enough of your body left to live in."

Suzanna's legs went from under her and she slumped back into the chair, almost trapping her wings painfully behind her. Valiant stood before her and smirked, while Lukas glared at him with a look of guilty anger on his face. The lord was nearly ready to draw and kill his cousin where he stood, but settled for shouting at him instead.

"Get out, Valiant!" he roared, and pushed him roughly towards the door. Valiant swept out unceremoniously, and Lukas slammed the door and locked it in his wake.

Suzanna stared at him in desperation and fear. "Will they do that? Will they kill me?" She began to shake uncontrollably, and covered her mouth with her hands. Lukas went to her immediately and knelt before her, taking her hands in his.

"They will not, not while I am here to protect you, Suzanna," he said urgently. "I know they will see that you are not a threat, and they will leave you alone. The Distant Nine are not like us, you see, they know everything and anything that happens in Bastion. They probably know that you are here already."

This was little comfort, and she did not stop shaking. "They are not humanva?" she stammered.

Lukas squeezed her hands gently. "They were human once, and in a way they still are. But they are very, very powerful wizards, so powerful that they can make sure Bastion is provided for and protected from the daemonva war. They are not heartless, I promise you! They spend all their time and energies in protecting Bastion, and they are known to be benevolent and kind to any who come before them, if their heart is good."

He reached up and wiped the tears away from her cheek. "Don't cry, Suzanna," he said earnestly. "Whatever happens, I will stay with you."

She sniffed and smiled half-heartedly in response. Lukas touched her cheek again, a small sign of affection, and went to bring her some food.

They ate in silence, and Suzanna was hungry as usual. The food was just as good as the morning, and not for the first time she was very glad to be treated so well, even though the knight in question seemed to feel nothing but distaste for her.

She finished the bread, and waited politely for Lukas to finish as well. She was still curious about many things, but in the light of the afternoon's events she wondered if now was a good time to ask.

"Cedric, why would Valiant give me such good food but still hate me so much?"

He looked at her in surprise, his mouth half-full. He swallowed, then replied. "This is quite poor fare in comparison to what other guests might get. This is only cold meat and fruit, and plain bread. We can provide the finest dishes that Bastion can offer, but Valiant obviously thinks you are not worth the effort."

She sipped some water while she thought. There was obviously much about Bastion that she didn't know, in spite of her reading.

Lukas finished, and stacked the plates neatly on the tray. He left it on a table by the door, and returned to the stool beside her where he had left his book. She picked up hers, but her interest had wavered from it. She was distracted by Valiant's harsh words, and the prospect of visiting the Council of the Distant Nine.

There was another quiet knock at the door, and Lukas immediately leapt to his feet and drew his sword. Suzanna looked to the door nervously, waiting to see who it might be.

He walked forward and opened it a crack, then opened it fully to reveal Alvan and Alton. He ushered them in, closed the door again, and locked it.

Suzanna's face lit up as she saw them, and she exclaimed in greeting. Alvan went to her, smiling widely, and took her hands for a moment. "You look much better, my dear!" he said. "I am glad indeed. May the sword stand between you and all harm."

Alton bowed politely, and grinned at her. "Nice to see you up and about, milady." She laughed, and held out her hands to him as well. He took them, still grinning, and bowed again with even more grandiose gestures. Whatever Valiant felt about her, it was heartwarming to know that she still had friends.

Alvan sat and began to chat with Suzanna, asking about her well-being. Alton took Lukas aside to speak with him for a while.

"You have spent the day in here, then? I am sure all this is very new and interesting to you," he said.

"Oh yes," she said enthusiastically. "I have found that I can read the language, as well as speak it. It was Cedric who showed me." She blushed for a moment. "I mean, Lord Lukas showed me a few words, and they caused me to remember the rest."

Alvan smiled knowingly. "I'm sure you have many questions. I think, perhaps, we will have to leave them for another time." He looked to where Alton and Lukas were conversing beside one of the bookshelves. Then his face was drawn and worried for a moment, and he turned back to Suzanna.

"My dear, I do not know where you will be going, but I can only hope that Lord Lukas with care for you as he did out in the wilderness. I will not be going with you; my place is here for the time being," he said in a low voice, and Suzanna's face fell at his words. "Do not worry, I have something for you. It may keep you safe wherever you are."

He offered her the Codex. "You will find it a help when times are difficult, Suzanna."

"Alvan, you can't give me this!" she said. He took her hands and folded them over the small book.

"I have always known that you had some part of Jaydanna in you," he said. "She drew strength from the Codex, and I know you will too."

On impulse, she reached out and hugged Alvan tightly. "I will see you again, I swear I will," she whispered. "May the sword stand between you and all harm." Her sentiment echoed his greeting, and in return he patted her gently and told her not to worry.

Lukas and Alton approached them, and Suzanna pulled away. Her face was already marked with fear as she looked to the lord knight for reassurance. Alvan stood, and nodded to Lukas.

"Well then, I must be going. If there is anything more I can do, please let me know before you leave." He nodded to the knights, and bowed to Suzanna before waving regretfully and walking towards the door.

She waved, and clutched the book to her chest.

Lukas bid Alvan goodbye, and stood before Suzanna with a hard look in his eyes. He seemed to be holding some level of anger in check. "Alton tells me of a rumor," he said. "It seems that Valiant has thrown the code of the knights aside, and he will not keep silent about you for much longer. He plans to gather a troop of knights and take you into his custody, and confine me to the Temple."

His voice was thick with betrayal, but Lukas contained his fury well. He shook his head ruefully. "I am sorry to do this to you, but we have to leave immediately if we can."

She looked around the library, and wondered if she could ever come back here and read the rest of the books. But it seemed that a daemon would not be welcome anywhere in the realm of humanva, and she would have to keep moving. She felt like she could cry again.

"Let's go then," she said. She pulled herself out of the chair unsteadily, and managed to hold herself upright on her feet. Lukas nodded grimly, and gestured to Alton, who went to the door.

Lukas offered her his arm for stability. They moved slowly to the door, and Alton held it open.

They returned to the room, and collected the furs. Lukas took his cloak and wrapped it around Suzanna, hiding her wings and face. "You must keep your head down," he said. "We will go to the stables and get the horses, and we will meet a few people on the way. You must not be noticed at all. I will say that you are a sick woman, who we are taking to Bastion for a cure."

She nodded nervously, and pulled the cloak tightly around her. She certainly acted like a sick woman; she still hobbled and was hunched from the weight of her wings. She also had no shoes, and said as much to Lukas.

He frowned, and told Alton to get some basic supplies and meet them at the stables. The knight saluted smartly, and marched out the door.

Lukas tied up the furs and hoisted them onto his back, then offered his free arm to Suzanna again. Luckily her wings were hidden under the folds of his voluminous cloak. They ventured out into the Temple, with her heart torn between sorrow and fear.

## Chapter Eighteen

### The Deepen Passes

They walked slowly down the corridor, Lukas with his eyes wary and watchful, and Suzanna with her eyes on the floor. Her dress hid her feet, and for all the world they looked like a knight accompanying an invalid.

The corridor opened out into the main hall, which was already bustling with people and knights. Suzanna finally had some time to examine the people of Bastion as they passed, observing them from the shadow of the cloak's hood. They were all dressed quite well, and seemed happy and full of purpose. There were laughing children running about, while parents and friends stopped and talked to the knights and priests. This was a community that Suzanna would like to belong to. It seemed friendly and open, and it was astonishing that such a community had been built underground and had even thrived despite the war above.

They moved through the crowd without incident, although many passing people took them to be what they seemed, and Suzanna found strangers would touch her gently on the shoulder or head and offer a word of encouragement or short benediction. The first few times she flinched away, but Lukas held her arm tightly and she trusted him to protect her. She stopped flinching as he thanked people and bowed to them.

They exited the hall and moved out into the market cave proper. They were left alone here; people did not want to disturb the grim-looking knight and his shaky, hobbling charge outside of the temple. The stables were a few minutes walk for a normal, healthy person, but Suzanna was too weak to move very fast and they took some time to get to the entrance.

The stables smelled like horse and straw and manure. The dank warmth was oddly comforting to Suzanna, who had spent so long out traveling with the same smell. She could hear the stamp and snort of the horses, and the echoing voices of the stablehands in the gloom.

Lukas called out, and soon a stocky man in leathers approached him. There were a few gruff words, and the man walked off to bring out their horses.

He spoke softly to her as they waited. "Alton will be here soon, as well as Eisun, Cambridge, Stearn and Maska. They will travel with us on the journey to Bastion."

"Is that wise?" she asked. "I would not want to see them come to any harm."

"No one with any sense challenges a group of knights, and we will not give anyone a reason to challenge us," he said with a touch of amusement in his voice. "This outpost is a long way from Bastion proper, and getting there will take maybe a week or more of travel. I do not want to take any chances with your safety on the way."

The stocky man returned with their horses. They were left there with Suzanna and Lukas, and the man went to get on with other chores.

They waited. Alton and the others were late, and even Lukas was getting worried, when they finally appeared. Alton carried a large bag over his shoulder as well as his armor and sword.

Eisun, Cambridge and Maska were there, but Stearn was missing.

Lukas looked to Alton, who appeared a little out of breath. "Stearn had to be left behind," he gasped. "Lord Valiant cornered him and Alvan, and they were almost being interrogated when I last saw them. I think Valiant knows that we have plans to leave immediately."

The lord nodded grimly. "In that case we have to go quickly. Let him try to catch us among the caravans if he feels like wasting his time." He turned to his knights. "Mount up and make ready to leave. We head for the Deepen passes."

The knights bustled and prepared, while Alton passed a few needed items to Suzanna; a single pair of soft leather boots, with socks, a pair of gloves, and a small comb. She accepted them all with a smile and her thanks.

They walked the horses out and towards the large passage to the west of the market. The guards let them pass into the wide tunnel along with much other mundane traffic; Lukas leading the way, flanked by Alton and Eisun with Cambridge and Maska behind. Suzanna rode as she always did, side saddle and in front of Lukas.

It startled her that there was so many people traveling constantly. The others on the road were people of all kinds; lone travelers on horses, carts, coaches, large wagons. The ceiling high above was dotted with glowing crystals, and they illuminated the walls which were, once again, covered with letters and carvings depicting the life and history of this particular part of the human settlement.

Suzanna wondered briefly if there was any history of the Council of the Distant Nine written anywhere in Bastion. How could they be human, and yet so powerful they could hold the might of the daemonva away from the city? But the mountains were simply not strategically important, a faint voice in her mind said. They were barren, difficult to navigate even in good weather, and completely unsuitable for conducting any kind of engagement above ground. The humanva city beneath them was a twisted maze of passages and caves, which were not worth the time of any daemon to explore and find a use for, especially with the constant watchfulness of their wizards.

She shook her head, pushing away the train of thought. It seemed weird and alien in her mind, and it was not how she usually felt. It was a fragment of Sunekhar; tactical thinking, critical and cold. It worried her.

They left the Outpost of the Distant Third behind, and continued on into the Deepen Passes. There were roads and passages leaving everywhere off the main corridor, and people moved constantly through them, illuminated by the soft glow of the crystals high above. It was surprisingly peaceful, watching the hustle of the travelers beside and around them. Many wore bright, decorated clothing, of red and green or light yellows. The women wore skirts or dresses, long cloaks and scarves wrapped around their hair; the men wore long, loose pants with belted shirts and half-cloaks. There were as many walking as riding, and Suzanna wondered at how they could last the long journey.

She whispered to Lukas. "How can they walk so far? Is Bastion not very far away?"

He hummed quietly under his breath. "The caves around the Outpost are home to hundreds of people, and they will easily walk to the market and back again. Soon we will come to the main trod out to Bastion proper, and there will be few walking then."

It seemed to suggest that there were still people who would walk to Bastion from the Outpost, which amazed Suzanna all the more. It must be a feat of extreme stamina, to spend a week's travel on foot to get to the city.

"Why do people go to Bastion, Cedric?" she asked curiously.

"For many reasons. Most go to trade, and bring back what their community needs. Others go to see the Council of the Distant Nine, and ask their advice or help. A few go to learn the ways of magic in the College of the Sky."

Her eyes widened. "Did someone teach the sorcerer how to do melding?"

Lukas sighed. "No. He delved into forbidden magic alone."

She shivered under the cloak. "I have wondered..."

"Yes?"

"Why is it that you do not call the sorcerer by his name? I would think that he has one."

Lukas fell silent. Suzanna wondered for a moment if he would answer her.

"You recall that I told you about the importance of names?"

She murmured under her breath in agreement.

"Names are powerful things. To name a thing is to give it life, purpose, strength. A thing that is not named is nebulous and weak. So we do not name him, because to name him is to give him power in the hearts and minds of the people. The Council of the Distant Nine have decreed that no living human will name him out loud, and their word is more powerful than his. They have said it is so, and thus no human can name him, even if they try. Someday, those who know his name will forget it or pass away, and those left will never be told it. And his power over them will be as nothing."

Suzanna fell silent for a moment at the thought of what immense power the Distant Nine must hold, if they could forbid every human from speaking a man's name.

"I don't know if I knew his name before I was captured," she finally said.

He shrugged. "Maybe it's different for the daemonva."

"And calling him 'the sorcerer' doesn't count?"

"No, that's just a label we use when we have to speak of him. It's not the same."

Suzanna wasn't sure that she could see the difference, but Lukas spoke so firmly that she was not inclined to argue. Besides, her rediscovery of her own name in the dungeon had held her fragile mind together, so there must be something in his words.

But there was Sunekhar, and there was Jaydanna. Who was Suzanna? Where had that name come from? Her memory held no answer, no flicker of knowledge save for the certainty that that was her name. She began to ponder the meaning of it, searching for any clue or recollection that could point to a source.

The passages leading off the main thoroughfare became fewer and fewer, and they moved into the main trod of the Deepen Passes. The corridor was a little narrower, and the lights a little dimmer. Two wagons and several other other mounted travelers grouped around the knights in a caravan as they rode. They seemed to ride for hours, and Suzanna was lulled to sleep by the gentle movement of the horse. They would be traveling for a long time. She slept, and thankfully she did not dream.

She was shaken awake by Lukas moving behind her, and for a second she did not know where she was. Then the memories returned and the world became clear to her again. She was tempted to stretch and yawn, but she did not want to risk discovery.

Suzanna suddenly heard the sound of singing.

It was low and rhythmic, like the sound of running water, and it grew louder as more voices joined in. She dared to peek out at the group around her, and realized the travelers were singing together as they rode.

Lukas joined in, his voice a deep throbbing bass. Eisun was a growling tenor, and Maska a light airy kind of voice. Cambridge whistled rather than sang, for his own reasons.

The song was taken up by everyone. It spoke of long roads, and the rest at the end of it; leaving home to see new things, but someday returning to tell of what they were to those who stayed. It was a marching song, a song to keep the feet moving and the heart light on a long journey.

Suzanna learned the tune quickly, and soon the words as well, as it was repeated again and again. She joined in in a weak, thready voice. It grew more complex with every moment, with new harmonies developing and different voices rising and falling. She sang with them, softly, as best she could.

The song continued while they rode, and as the hours passed by Suzanna began to fall asleep again.

This time she was woken by the absence of movement, as the horse stopped. Lukas shook her shoulder lightly and she stirred after a moment into wakefulness. He slipped down from the horse and led it off to one side.

The path had opened up into a bigger cave, with only a few dotted crystals lighting the roof. There was a large pool in the centre, and the water reflected the dim light. Suzanna had to look again before she realized that the water was, in fact, glowing in its own right. There were crystals under the water as well, and their light diffused through it like silver. On the far side she could see another passage, but there were two passages leading off to the left and right as well.

Lukas led the horse to the side of the pool to drink, and then lifted her down. She stood very unsteadily, her muscles stiff after the long ride. "Where are we?" she asked.

"At the first junction of the Deepen Passes," he said. "There are many trods running all through the mountains, and they all cross over at certain junctions. This is the first between Bastion and the Outpost."

She looked around her in wonder. The caravan had stopped for the night, and all around, people were taking down packs, opening up small tents, and taking out hay and oats for the horses. The two large wagons were parked over to the side, and the people began to sit together and talk while they ate the food they had carried with them.

Lukas guided her to his pack, and sat her down on it while he erected a little tent. "I'm afraid we have no bed," he said, "There was no way to carry one on this trip."

"That's fine. I don't mind as long as I can be warm," she said quietly. It was worrying her that she would become too cold out in the chill of the tunnels. She needed heat to heal, and to stay well and function right. Even under Lukas' large cloak, she felt she simply was not warm enough.

With the tent ready, he carried her into it and let down the flap. The pile of furs was all the bed they had, and it would have to do. Suzanna refused to remove the cloak or the dress until she was covered up and happy.

Lukas tied down the tent flap, and crawled into the furs with her. There was an unspoken agreement, that he was allowed to share her bed, and she did not question his presence for a moment. She removed the cloak, pulling it over them both.

## Chapter Nineteen

### Laughter and Love

She woke during the night. It was due to her having slept on the way to the junction; her body was weak, but she was no longer completely exhausted all the time.

The tent was stuffy, and Lukas was warm behind her. She would stay awake for a time, maybe think about her situation and the journey ahead.

She was distracted by a sound outside. Splashing, and faint laughter. People speaking, quietly and furtively. She was immediately alarmed, but how could it be sinister if there were people laughing as well?

She slid out of the furs, her skin prickling at the colder air, and crawled to the tent flap. She untied it slowly and carefully, and then pulled it back a tiny, tiny amount so that she could see out into the cave.

Her eyes widened. There was a man and a woman outside by the pool, both naked and mostly dripping wet. The woman sat by it, rubbing the dirt of the trail from her skin and talking softly to the man, who was standing in the pool and dumping handfuls of water over them both. They were laughing, and smiling at each other, and the man would splash her every once in a while in play.

Suzanna's first thought was that it was far, far too cold to even think about bathing in the pool, but then again she was a daemon – or currently possessing a daemon body – and she needed the warmth. They were so happy, so carefree. She watched the motion of the woman as she combed out her dark hair, watched their reflections in the pool's surface. It was mesmerizing, enchanting even. They didn't even think that they might be watched.

The man climbed out, and she watched the water flow down his back and legs, the drops glinting in the light of the crystals in the pool. He sat beside the woman, and she gave him a cloth to dry his face. They both talked, and then he leaned over and kissed her swiftly on the cheek. Suzanna smiled unconsciously as she watched the woman laugh, and kiss him in return.

It was a sweet and innocent image that settled into her memory. It was a treasure in her small cache of recollection, to be hidden and protected and occasionally brought out and admired. She tied the tent flap down again, and returned to the furs and to Lukas. A happy and content feeling had spread through her body, as if she had been privileged to witness a most special and private event. She wanted to know these two people, to know their story, and their love.

## Chapter Twenty

### Memory Echoes

The morning, if such a thing could happen in an underground cave, was just as cold as the night. Suzanna was only aware of it when she woke to the sound of people moving, and Lukas stirred beside her.

They got underway quickly, and once again she was surprised at the efficiency of the travelers. They made little of the work of packing up all the tents and clearing the area around the pool; they left nothing behind, and as they left through the passage ahead Suzanna noted that there were no signs that they had ever passed this way.

The day wore on, and the song once again echoed through the tunnel. Suzanna did not sing this time, and she waited for Lukas to stop for a moment so she could talk to him.

"Are the junctions special, Cedric?" she asked.

She felt him nod. "Yes, they are in a way. The Distant Nine placed them along the paths, each a day's travel apart, so that the caravans had a spot to stay when they needed a rest. They placed the pools there as well."

"But we took everything away with us, when we left."

"That is because the junctions belong to everyone in Bastion and the Outposts. They are like the market; the space is the property of all who decide to come and use it. But possession confers a responsibility, and so every time a caravan stays at a junction they must make sure they leave it as they found it."

Suzanna nodded at the sense of the idea. Although, the couple who used the pool during the night...

"I saw something last night, Cedric," she whispered. Immediately his body changed, became harder and almost battle ready. "Tell me," he said.

"I saw two people, by the pool. They were naked and they bathed in it. I'm sure they could not take the dirt away when they left."

He relaxed at her words. There was a deep rumbling chuckle in his throat before he spoke. "That is nothing to worry about. The pools have a small current running through them at the bottom, which will carry away dirt. It is not so uncommon to find people who will undress and jump into the pool after a long day's travel, although I would guess that some are more modest and prefer to do it when others are not around."

Suzanna blushed under the cloak's hood. "It looked like a lot of fun," she said shyly. She would not say what was really on her mind, which was that she would like to try it herself once she was well again. Although the cold might hurt her more than an average human, she had not bathed in some time. Out in the wilderness, Alvan had done his best to clean her up after the long stay in the dungeon, and since then she had been too sick to bathe herself, and the knights had not had the water to clean her again. In the Outpost they had not stayed long enough to arrange a bath.

Lukas smiled. "It is a lot of fun," he said, "I used to bathe in them myself on longer trips." She blushed even deeper.

They fell silent for a time. Suzanna fell deep into thought as the song rose and fell around her, occasionally humming in response to a particular harmony or melody.

Bastion and the Council of the Distant Nine grew closer with every step they took towards them, and although Lukas had given her every assurance that he would protect her and that the Distant Nine would be amenable to her, she still worried both about her future and about him. Lukas believed that part of his wife still lived in her, and so far she could not say for sure how big that part was. Could she count on his help and protection if the Distant Nine decided she was just another daemon, and there wasn't enough of Jaydanna worth saving?

What about her own feelings? She was wary about trusting her own mind, but she knew that she, Suzanna, cared for Lukas and didn't want to leave him. But the point was almost moot, while she could not even walk on her own. Was it a feeling simply born of gratitude, or the fear of being left alone in a strange, hostile place? She couldn't say, not yet.

Lukas was warm at her back, as always. Warm and welcoming and caring. He steadied her in the saddle, and for a moment his hand was on hers and he squeezed it.

Her heart leapt again of its own accord. She certainly felt something very strong for him.

Love does not see the eye, nor the skin, he said. Love sees to the heart and the soul. He had said that he wasn't sure, but his actions suggested that some part of him did believe it. He wanted to see Jaydanna in her. Although she would settle for playing the part of another woman, a voice within her was insistent that he should see her as herself.

She tried to ignore it. She herself didn't even know who she really was.

Do daemons love, she wondered. Could a daemon learn to love another daemon, or was love something else irrelevant to them, like humans were? She could not conceive of a race that could not feel for one another at least, but she had no memory to describe them either way. Perhaps the daemonva loved their own kind like humanva loved each other. It would make them more real in her fractured recollections, more proper. Maybe a daemon and a daeva had even fallen in love once.

Her memory flickered for a second. No, the daemonva are forever split, and they will never reconcile their differences.

That was her daemonic side again, but it was tired and wavering. The vague feeling of memory that said this would, once again, not supply any details about why they fought so hard. It irked her more than anything that she could not give anything, any reason that the daemonva were such bitter enemies. It made no sense, because anyone – or any human, perhaps – could see that the daemonva were probably the same kind of creature once.

She felt a sense of revulsion. Inevitable, really. She could not deny that she was still a daemon, and daemons hated daevas on a primal level. Presumably daevas hated them with the same passion.

What would happen if Sunekhar resurfaced and she forgot that she was Suzanna?

## Chapter Twenty-One

### A Break in the Trod

It seemed that finding the strength to walk again was the catalyst that accelerated her healing. On the morning of the fourth day after they left the Outpost of the Distant Third, Suzanna stood and walked normally, without shaking or pain. Her recovery was nothing short of miraculous for a human, and she wanted to skip and dance in celebration of it, but she still had to maintain the pretense that she was an invalid. She shuffled around under the cloak and tried not to draw too much attention to herself, and still rode in front of Lukas.

She felt that she was strong enough to fly. Her wings were healed, more or less, and the tears in the membranes had knitted well. She began to long for the feel of the sky, in spite of the closeness of the rock walls around her. It was the only good memory from Sunekhar; the only thing untainted by violence and cruelty. Indeed, it was her only really solid memory; the rest were mere flickers or feelings, and as insubstantial as mist in the morning sun.

She had been trying to remember how to actually fly, though. The memory of flight did not have enough detail to actually describe how she flew, and she could only assume that she would know how when the time came to take to the air. There were only a few facts she recalled; her wings, folded and compact on her back, would become bigger in the air simply to let her support her own weight. They, and she, would also become lighter so that she could fly at all; a daemon's body had abilities beyond the knowing of humanva. It was not something that could be explained.

The day was long, and the passage was the same. The walls and crystals blurred together after a time, nothing but grey stone and dim lights. Suzanna could do nothing but listen to the traveling song, and the melodies and harmonies the caravan wove to keep themselves occupied.

A light appeared ahead. The passage opened up again into a large chamber, this time a beautiful natural cavern. They moved forward quickly, and Suzanna quickly saw that a large break in the trod reached across the cave, though the floor was mostly level and clear.

Lukas moved up immediately, and the caravan stopped just before the break. It was a ravine nearly six feet across, and so deep she could not see the bottom. It appeared that there was a break in the stone itself, and it had cut right across the cavern. He snorted in annoyance, and began to give crisp orders to have the gap bridged. He called Alton over, and had Suzanna dismount and given into his care. Lukas trotted away on his horse, and began to arrange matters as only a leader such as he could.

Suzanna shivered involuntarily. The ravine reminded her of the dungeon; deep, foreboding, and endless. But she could not allow herself to be beholden to her fears forever. She asked Alton to let her sit on one of the packs, where she could watch the proceedings.

Lukas noticed her, and returned briefly to her to make sure that she was safe.

"This is an inconvenience," he said. "It was probably caused by an earthquake a few days ago, according to one of the men. The Distant Nine can repair the rock, but it will take time for the damage to be assessed and for one of their apprentice stonemasons to come here and begin the work."

Suzanna looked puzzled. "How can they repair the rock? It has been split completely."

"Magic," said Lukas. "I could not say how. But any breaks in the trods are repaired as soon as the Distant Nine know of them. They are very watchful of them, and they know how much we depend on them for trade and travel."

He left her there, and went back to his arrangements. A few of the more robust men had dismantled part of one of the large wagons, and a makeshift bridge was quickly taking shape. The oxen and horses were unburdened, and much of the cargo was simply tossed across the six foot gap.

A few travelers on horses were brave enough to jump the gap. Most, however, trusted to the knight's leadership and waited for the bridge to be completed. They would not leave the cavern without the group, so those on the other side dismounted and sat down to wait.

Soon the caravan was slowly moving across the gap. Suzanna was impressed by the speed and efficiency of their work; they operated together to accomplish what needed to be done. Alton picked her up and carried her across himself, while Lukas stayed and made sure everything was taken and everyone was brought across safely. She was left with the horses, and Alton went to see to the wagons.

Suddenly Suzanna heard something. It was faint, like the crack of a falling rock, but a long, long way away. It set her teeth on edge, and set her mind afire with alarm. She stood, all thought of pretense forgotten, and desperately called out to him.

"Lukas! Come quickly! Please!" She gestured as she shouted, beckoning him over while her voice was scratchy and hoarse. He looked to her in puzzlement – and then the entire cavern shook in a thunder of rock and grating stone.

Suzanna fell over, but she was back on her feet in an instant. Dormant survival instincts were abruptly reawakened, and despite her tiredness and aching muscles, she was ready to run if she had to. Rocks and dust began to fall from the roof and shatter on the floor of the cave.

Alton shouted orders, getting the caravan to move into the passage leading out along the trod. People ran, crying, picking up whatever was closest as they dashed out to safety, but Suzanna only had eyes and ears for Lukas on the other side of the ravine.

He wheeled his horse, and took a run at the gap. He leaped it in one smooth movement, but a stray rock caught his shoulder and knocked him from his steed. The horse continued, and Lukas fell on the hard floor just beyond the gap.

Suzanna began to run. There was no time for thinking, or planning; Cedric, her husband, was in danger. Rocks fell all around her, but she paid no attention to them. Adrenalin pumped through her veins, and she found the strength to reach him and lift him up.

His armor had absorbed the worst of the impact, but he was still dazed and half-limp. She dragged him onwards, to the passage and to safety where the caravan waited. She could hear them shouting encouragement at her, could make out Alton's deep voice bellowing at her to move.

Rocks crashed down around them as she supported Lukas and they staggered towards the passage. Several bounced off her back, but the thickness of the cloak protected her somewhat. She ignored the pain and shielded him at every opportunity. Her daemonic constitution would recover from the wounds, but he could be killed by any one.

Only fifty feet – then twenty – then ten, and they collapsed in the passage while the tremor shook the cavern apart. Alton lifted her while Maska and Cambridge hoisted Lukas onto their shoulders, and they all ran from the swiftly collapsing entrance.

Down the trod, the crashing sound of rock and stone faded. Suzanna was brutally sore from the falling rock, but surprisingly the pain did not seem much to her. The sorcerer had done worse and more to her, and nothing could really compare to his tortures. It seemed that she was far stronger than she looked. Her back and wings were ablaze with bruises, in spite of the cloak, but she was far more worried about Lukas.

They stopped with the caravan. No one, other than they, had been hurt in the fall. Lukas' horse had taken a slight scrape on the foreleg, but nothing more serious. The bridge was unfortunately lost, but already the second wagon had several planks and parts removed to make the first drivable again. Some rations and cargo was lost as well, but all considered the fact that they were all here and alive to be paramount. Several travelers crowded around the knights as they lowered their lord onto a bedroll.

Lukas groaned as Alton removed his breastplate and shoulder-plates. There was a nasty gash on his arm, and his collarbone was broken. Suzanna, however...

Cambridge acted with foresight and kept the people back and away from her. She had been very lucky that the cloak had still hidden her while she ran, and they had not seen her grey skin and white hair. There were murmurs of surprise, but the knights still kept them away with orders that she could not have any person near her.

They seemed to accept this, though she saw many suspicious looks. The word of a knight was powerful, almost as powerful as the Council of the Distant Nine and their proxies. She heard many voices talking of her, and how brave she had been to return to her devoted husband and rescue him. Their admiration was like a flame of joy in her heart, considering the vile things that Valiant had said about her and all daemons. It reaffirmed for her that she could not be a true daemon, not as he knew them, because she would risk her life for a human. No, for her _husband_ ; she had only one thought when she ran into the cavern, and that was to save the person most important to her in the world.

Lukas was safe. He was injured, but he would heal. All that mattered was that he was safe and they were still on their way to Bastion. Alton muttered about dangerous caves, and how they should have been shored up, but Suzanna guessed it was just a nervous response to the threat. They were all here and safe.

She stayed by his side, holding his hand, until the group was ready to leave. He only smiled at her, happy that she was safe as well, and touched her face before sighing and closing his eyes.

Lukas was carried in one of the wagons. Suzanna rode with Alton for the time being, and Lukas' horse was led behind. The caravan was readied quickly, and with everything in place, they continued on to the next junction.

## Chapter Twenty-Two

### Daemonic Strength

The night was a subdued one after the shock of the cave collapse. There was less bustle and more silence in the dim cave. Suzanna would have still been apprehensive, but Lukas explained to her that each junction was warded and protected from such things as earthquakes and rock falls.

He had rested well, and refused all help when the caravan stopped.

The travelers gathered around a large glow-crystal, and rations were brought out for the day's meal as well. Suzanna stayed back and stayed hidden. Lukas sat with the others for a time, and many spoke to him and congratulated him on his lucky escape. There was much gesturing at her, and sidelong looks. Lukas only nodded and murmured his thanks on Suzanna's behalf.

Her back ached. Alton set up the little tent again, and as soon as it was ready Suzanna entered and removed the cloak to check her wounds.

There were large bruises and welts where the rock had struck her, but no broken bones and not even a single sign of blood. Her wings were intact, somehow. The bruises would fade in a day, as her daemonic regeneration healed them. Many of them had struck her hard enough to break or kill a human. She could only imagine that there would be some interesting questions about her from the caravan.

Lukas joined her in a few moments. He brought the furs with him and spread them out on the hard floor before looking at her back.

He touched the sore wounds gently, before sitting down and staring at her with an inexplicable expression on his face. Suzanna watched him in puzzlement, waiting for him to say something.

Finally he spoke. "Thank you, for saving me," he said slowly. "To come and carry me back was a very brave thing to do."

"I am tougher than I look, Cedric." She smiled faintly. "You would not let me come to any harm. It's only fair that I do the same for you."

"But you didn't have to, Suzanna. You put yourself in danger for me." He took her hands gently. "Jaydanna would have done the same."

He smiled in real happiness for the first time in a long time, and Suzanna smiled with him. It was a pleasant and joyful thought.

She sat down and embraced him, enjoying the happy moment. He winced in pain as she touched the large bandage that Alton had wrapped around his injured shoulder, and she immediately apologized.

"No no, it is quite alright. I have suffered far worse in the execution of my duties," he said, while shifting the bandage carefully to a more comfortable position. Suzanna looked at him with worry in her eyes.

"I only wish I could give you some of my healing ability," she said wistfully. "This would heal in a few days, if it had been me who had been hit."

"But you were hit, and I'm thankful you could take those blows without being as badly harmed as a human would be. I saw you shielding me." He held her close again. "Please, don't risk yourself for me again. I know that you are tougher and stronger than a human, but I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me, I promise. But I can't lose you either," she whispered.

He lay down in the furs stiffly, and she curled up next to him as always, wondering what tomorrow would bring to them.

## Chapter Twenty-Three

### Flight

The rest of the journey was uneventful, but stressful for Suzanna and Lukas. They had to hide her at every turn, and shield her from the curious caravan. She took every care to keep her face and hands covered up, and lived in constant fear of being discovered.

Every night Lukas had to have his shoulder checked and the bandage changed. The travelers were still in awe of his bravery and her selfless actions, and, despite the knights' attempts to keep them away, they still found space to reach Lukas and Suzanna and touch them or offer words of encouragement. Every time, she turned her face away from them to stay hidden and made sure not a square inch of skin could be seen, and let Lukas respond to them with thanks and deflections.

On the seventh day since they left the outpost of the Distant Third, Suzanna saw her first view of Bastion proper. They were walking slowly through the trod, the path a little wider than usual, and around a corner there was a break in the passage wall. Through it, she could see an immense cavern.

There was no way to compare Bastion to anything else she had ever witnessed. It was a true underground city, with huge open spaces and gardens and tall spires of rock rising from the floor and dropping from the ceiling. More astonishing were the huge, floating islands that moved slowly around the cavern, tethered to the giant central column with thin streams of magical light, and on each of their undersides were more patches of glowing crystals. The roof was held up by several smaller columns arranged around the central one, and each was dotted with crystals that were lit up like stars. Above the main column, there was a large ring of crystals that glowed like the sun. It was as bright as the evening light on the surface.

The spires themselves had dozens of holes, laid out in horizontal rows, and with a certain amount of shock Suzanna realized that they were windows. There were people living in those giant stalactites and stalagmites; thousands and thousands of people, more than all the daemonva combined, must live in a single spire.

She could not contain a gasp of surprise, and Lukas shushed her immediately. Any human would have seen this countless times, and no more thought of it than they thought about the rock beneath their feet.

They walked along a high ledge, overlooking the city cavern itself, and it would be another day at least before they reached the floor.. On the open side, there was a ridge of rock, like a natural barrier, that rose and fell along the ledge in a wave. She could not help taking ever possible chance to look at the city as they travelled onwards. That such a place could flourish this far beneath the surface astonished her, and she knew beyond a doubt that the daemonva had no idea that Bastion was this vast and beautiful. The entire place was astounding; a miracle of magic and structure that baffled the mind.

The caravan took little notice of the view. They were perfectly used to their home.

While they travelled, she watched the gardens below when she could. There were no actual houses, only giant spires surrounded by vast gardens and pools. Suzanna wondered how any plants could survive this far underground, and could only think that there was some powerful magic involved. The gardens were delightful, even from this distance. She could make out flower beds and trees and grassy meadows, and pools and streams meandering through them. She could see harvests of fruit, vegetables, wheat and corn, trees and flowers and most astonishing of all, the islands far above had their own array of windows that indicated that there were people living in them as well, and there were long vines hanging from them with small, lit pods attached. The trend of carvings that she had seen in the passages continued here; every spire was carved and painted in vivid and beautiful color.

They stopped for the night at a small junction close to the end of the trod. She was delighted to have a chance to sit by the ridge and watch the city. It appeared that the lights dimmed in response to night and day on the outside, and the rotation of the floating islands almost corresponded to a daily cycle. Suzanna wondered again at the grand design of Bastion. She could not comprehend why any daemonva would want to destroy it, to come all the way into the depths of the earth just to wipe out something as peaceful as this.

They're a threat, her daemonic nature said. The daemonva meet threats head on and destroy them, before they can destroy us. Survival is not possible otherwise.

She shook her head, and pushed those thoughts away.

In the morning they were woken by a deep resonant bell that echoed through the chamber. Suzanna sat up in shock, while Lukas stopped her.

"It is only the morning bell from the Council. Don't worry. It is nothing dangerous."

She relaxed, but thought about the strength of magic involved in having such a bell sound in the entire cavern at once.

They travelled on. When they were closer to the bottom, Suzanna could make out people walking in the gardens and on the roads leading from spire to spire. Many wore robes in varying colors, and some of them had small magical lights floating around them. For one singular moment she thought she was seeing one of the Council of the Distant Nine, but that notion was quickly dismissed; there were far too many of them.

When they were several hundred feet above the cavern floor, they stopped at a small opening in the ridge. There was a pedestal there, with a bowl of water above it. From far above, she could see a drip of water falling a long, long way to finally plunk into the bowl. The rock around it was slightly damp, and there was a tiny channel where the water could run out and over the side of the ridge.

Lukas dismounted, and had her dismount as well. He bade her stand still and follow the actions of the others, while he walked towards the pedestal. The rest of the caravan either dismounted or climbed down from the wagons and carts, and they gathered around. Suzanna lurked at the back and tried to remain inconspicuous, with Alton and Cambridge standing over her.

Lukas stood by the pedestal and dipped a hand in the water, then touched it to his lips. "We are happy today to return to Bastion, our home and refuge. We are happy for the safety offered to us by the Distant Nine, and we honor them here at the pedestal where Bastion was first born."

The travelers murmured in agreement. They clapped each other on the back, offering thanks. The knights did the same, and Suzanna did so as well.

Lukas gestured, and in turn the caravan began to walk to the pedestal and dip their hands in. Each touched their hands to the mouths, and muttered some words of thanks before returning to their horses and wagons. Suzanna moved as well, and in turn she dipped her hand in and touched the water to her lips. The water was fresh, sweet and very cold, but it seemed to heat up on her bare skin, becoming very warm and pleasant.

She had only taken two steps away from the pedestal when there was another tremor. The ground under them shook violently, and they were all thrown to the ground. Beyond the ridge she could see flickers of magic as some kind of defense activated in the city, as dust and stone began to fall from the roof of the cavern.

They were relatively protected here, in the passage leading down to the floor, but again Suzanna heard the faint crunch and snap of breaking rock. She yelled at the top of her voice, "Get back! The rock –"

The entire ridge shivered, and a large crack appeared that ran across the small platform and nearly cleaved the pedestal. The rock shattered horribly, and all she could see were the terrified eyes of the last traveller to pay their respects – the woman Suzanna had seen bathing so many nights before.

The ridge fell slowly backwards, falling into the cavern. All around there were people screaming and rock falling, and Suzanna could see other sections of the cavern wall falling as the tremor tore through Bastion. The woman screamed once, and then she was gone as the sheet of rock slipped away and down the cavern wall.

Then Suzanna stopped thinking. She had other instincts, feelings from Jaydanna, that compelled her to act. Foremost among the vows of the nun had been only this: to help others, where and when they needed it, and now the vow pounded through Suzanna's mind as well.

She was up and running before another tremor shook the ground again, and, as she ran, she threw off the cloak. Her wings unfolded from her back, expanding to an impossible size and catching the air as she moved, and then there was nothing but the void below her as she dropped from the ledge and into the cavern beyond.

The initial strain nearly broke her, and for one horrible moment, she felt nothing but total confusion. But then her body remembered, and she began to fly. Her wings were strong and graceful as she darted down to the slipping rock, dust and grit clogging her lungs and eyes as it ground its way down the cavern wall. She could still see the woman, terrified and struggling to remain standing on the rapidly disappearing ledge – and then she landed on it, slamming her still aching muscles.

Suzanna turned to the woman, her wings open and steadying her on the falling rock. "Quickly!" she shouted, "Grab onto me!" She reached out to the woman, who shrank away from her in complete terror for a moment. Then the ledge bucked like a mule, and she threw herself at Suzanna with a desperate cry.

The daemon in her took over. She was powerful, and she could do this. With the woman clinging to her, she leaped off the ledge, and her wings caught the air again as they fell towards the cavern floor.

Suzanna ignored the woman's terrified screams as they plummeted. There was only the air, and the shape of it and the feel of it, and it might not have been in the sky she missed so much, but the freedom of flight made her want to shout with joy. She wheeled left and right, avoiding giant shards of rock as the ledge finally disintegrated and toppled away, then swooped out and over the gardens of Bastion. Every wingbeat seemed to be more powerful, more sure, than the one before it.

The woman finally stopped screaming and clung to Suzanna, trembling in shock.

She turned back before she came anywhere near the spires of the city. Suzanna was not about to risk being killed by some magical defense after saving this woman's life and almost being killed herself in the process. She knew, in an abstract way, that now there was no way she could hide herself from the caravan or the city. They would know there was a daemon in their midst, and she had no way of knowing how they would react.

It was worth it to save the life of this one woman. Suzanna did not even know her name.

The tremors began to fade as she made her way back to the break in the wall. She could see Lukas, and see the faces of the travelers as they looked up at her. There was mostly fear written large in their eyes, but she could see wonder as well, and could only guess that they had never seen a daemon in the flesh before.

She slowed, and in a gust of powerful wingbeats, she landed on the ledge. As soon as her feet touched the ground, her strength seemed to slip away, and Suzanna felt a bone deep exhaustion settling into her limbs. It had taken more effort than she had let herself know.

The woman fell to her hands and knees onto the cold rock, her breath coming in short gasps. Suzanna knelt beside her and managed a small half-smile, then took her hand and helped her up. "You are safe now," she whispered hoarsely.

The woman flinched initially from her touch, but looked back at her with gratitude, awe, and no small amount of confusion. Her husband came forward hesitantly, and took her arm. She staggered, but allowed herself to be pulled away, still looking back at Suzanna, who returned the look helplessly.

She let her gaze drop to her feet. Her wings, so broad and powerful in flight, slowly shrank and folded up on her back.

Lukas came forward and handed her back the cloak. Around them, the travelers only stared at her, as if she would do something terrible to them all if they moved. She wrapped the cloak around her again, and pulled the hood up to hide her face.

The bravest among them stepped forward and challenged Lukas. He was an older man, greying and wrinkled, but still well spoken and well dressed.

"Lord Knight, that woman is a daemon," he said loudly. "What is a daemon doing in Bastion?" There were murmurs from the crowd behind him, and Suzanna almost cowered behind Lukas. If they turned ugly, she would need all her strength to leap from the ledge again, and hope she could make it to the ground. But then again, she had nowhere to go if Lukas was not with her, and she could only guess her time would be short and brutish in a hostile city.

Lukas drew himself up, in spite of his injuries. He stepped forward, his bearing that of a true lord. "This daemon is my prisoner," he said in a commanding voice. "She is being taken to the Council of the Distant Nine for judgement."

The man looked unconvinced. "Daemons do not leap into danger to save a human, Lord Knight. They would not lift a finger, except for their own kind."

"She has been magically bound to my commands, sir. We would not have brought her here in secret otherwise. Whatever her feelings, I will not let a good woman die if I can prevent it," Lukas said. "Go about your business in Bastion, and trust that we are working for the good of the city."

They could hardly argue with a lord and four of his men. The travelers moved on ahead of them, some looking back in mistrust at Suzanna. She stayed behind Lukas and tried to fade into the shadows. The pedestal itself only narrowly missed being torn away with the broken ridge. Suzanna was glad that it had survived. They continued along the trod, which quickly led out and onto the cavern floor proper.

There were already signs of repairs being affected. The fallen rock was being moved by robed figures, who used trails and threads of light to lift them out of the way of the road and into a larger pile, ready to be moved back and into the walls again. The caravan began to split up as different travelers went their separate ways, and more than once Suzanna noticed them looking furtively at her. Soon the whole city would know that a daemon was here, and she was already worried about what they might do to her.

It had been a ridiculous act, in retrospect. Lukas had asked her not to take risks, and immediately she had risked her life to save a single human woman. The flight had been hard, and very taxing on her wings. It would be a day or so before she really felt ready to try to fly again.

## Chapter Twenty-Four

### The City's Welcome

They passed the huge columns and spires, and she could see large archways leading in and out of them. People and wagons seemed to move everywhere, and away from the caravan, no one looked twice at them. Suzanna was initially shocked by the sight of men and women in fine robes with lights dancing around their heads, but they seemed as commonplace as every other marvel of Bastion, and a murmur from Lukas identified them as mages.

The simple and astonishing beauty of the city struck her to the core. It was more than anything she could recall from her daemonic home; it was a work of art and genius all at once and there was nothing, absolutely nothing, in Halca or beyond that could possibly compare with it. All at once she felt very lucky, because she could enjoy the sights and sounds of Bastion, and utterly cursed, because she was a daemon and not truly a part of it.

They moved onwards, and, after a half-day's travel, they stopped by one of the columns and entered its archway. They walked through a short tunnel, and Suzanna found that it opened into another large marketplace, similar to the one she had seen at the Outpost. It was filled with sound, color, and the smell of exotic foods that she could not identify, with people moving everywhere; customers stood chatting beside stall-keepers who shouted about their wares, porters with heavy packs trotted here and there, and the occasional cart piled with sacks or barrels rolled past. The roof was more than thirty feet above their heads, and wooden platforms on ropes ascended through them and into the upper reaches of the column.

She tried not to stare too long.

They rode along the inside wall of the column, past dozens of wooden doors with signs hanging above them, and finally stopped at one with a crude painting of a bed. Lukas dismounted and lifted her down.

"We're going to stay the night here. It's another day's travel to the College, where the Distant Nine reside," Lukas said. "Don't worry. The word of the Knights of the Sword is very strong in Bastion."

Suzanna kept her head down, and followed Lukas and Alton into the inn while the others took the horses. It was a sizable room carved out of the rock, with a stairs going up, and long tables and benches placed around the walls. It seemed quiet, this time of day; only a few people sat around chatting over mugs of beer. There was a pyramid of small barrels stacked at the end of the room behind a long counter, and an older man in an apron stood behind it. He hummed to himself as he cleaned a stack of mugs beside him.

The innkeeper noticed Lukas as he approached, and nodded in a friendly manner. "Good afternoon, Sir Knights, and madam," he said warmly. "What can I do for you?"

"Two rooms—one for me and my wife, and one large one for my men—and dinner, if you please," Lukas said. "And if you would call a priest to help with this," he indicated his bound arm, "I would be most grateful."

"Of course. We'll have some beef stew ready for the dinner soon. Will your wife need a lady in waiting?"

Lukas shook his head as Suzanna drew the cloak a little closer around her. "No, thank you. Once my arm is seen to, we don't want to be disturbed at all."

The man assured Lukas that they would be left alone for the night. He led them up the narrow staircase, and showed them to two heavy wooden doors, side by side. Alton, Cambridge, Eisun and Maska took the first, and Lukas and Suzanna took the other.

The bare rock walls of the room were brightened up by tapestries, and heavy wooden furniture upholstered in thick, red velvet. As Lukas was a lord and somewhat important, it also had a balcony open to the air outside the spire.

She sat at it, keeping her face shadowed and watching the city . It entranced her, and she did not hear Lukas at first when he spoke to her.

"I see you like Bastion," he said with some amusement. "I would think it is very impressive to an outsider."

She looked at him with shining eyes. "It is more lovely than anything I have ever seen before, Cedric. I recall only a little from... before the dungeon, and I have only a few vague memories of Halca. Nothing there could even hold a candle to this." She sighed deeply. "I am so ashamed to be who I am. The daemonva keep you bottled up, underground, and they would still sweep all this away without a second thought!"

Lukas came to her and held her hand. "It is not a bad life to us, Suzanna. Look out at the city, and the people here. We are and protected, and we have everything we could ask for. The Distant Nine have shielded us for generations, and they will continue to shield us as long as the war goes on above."

Suzanna looked at him sadly. "But the outside world belongs to you," she said. She reached out and stroked his cheek gently. "It belongs to all humanva, not to the daemonva. They don't belong here, and they don't have the right to wage their war here. Bastion is a treasure, a beautiful haven, but imagine what you could create above under the sky! The daemonva could not create such a city as this," she said bitterly. "They are empty shells, and they have nothing but their battles against each other. Everything that they could be is thrown away for the sake of this war." The memories rose quick and fast, of endless battles and blood and death. Her stomach twisted for a moment until she banished them again and regained her composure.

"I hate them, and I hate this flesh that I have to live in," she finally whispered.

Lukas squeezed her hands, and reached out to hold her gently. "I'm not sorry that we have to live as we do," he said softly. "Maybe things would be different if we were on the surface, but we all have to survive somehow, and I think we are lucky that we have such good lives down here. The Distant Nine will protect us, as I will protect you if it is within my power."

He looked into her eyes, and gently kissed her on the forehead. "I don't care what your flesh is. You are a good person, Suzanna. You're more than just another daemon. Remember that."

She buried her head in his shoulder. Beyond her apprehension that the Council would judge her unkindly, beyond her real fear that the city inhabitants would discover her and try to hurt her; Suzanna felt that she was very lucky to be with Cedric.

## Chapter Twenty-Five

### A Daemon in Bastion

The day dawned, in a manner of speaking. Lukas had told her that the crystals in the cavern roof lit up in response to the turning of the sun and moon; and so there was a morning. Suzanna felt it even as the light grew bright outside. She could almost sense the true morning outside the mountain, and under her beloved sky.

Lukas was already up. His arm was still sore and stiff, but the ministrations of the priest the night before let him use it with only a little pain. He was pulling on his tunic before she rose from the bed, and for a time she lay there and watched him move. He did not know she was awake, and the thought pleased her. He moved without knowing that she looked at him through half-lidded eyes.

She could believe that he was beginning to care for her, and not just the remnant of Jaydanna that was left in her. It was a warm and pleasant thought. The only doubt that still weighed on her mind was whether she cared for him because of Jaydanna, or because she had come to care for him on her own.

He turned, and saw her looking. She smiled gently, and he leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"I will go and see to breakfast," he said. "We will leave as soon as we have eaten and everyone is ready." He left, shutting the door securely.

Suzanna was still filled with apprehension over her meeting the Council of the Distant Nine. They were mysterious and powerful to her, and there was no way of knowing how they would view her or her situation. But there was no other option. Bastion was as much a prison to her as the dungeon had been; there was no way out of it bar through Lukas, and he wished her to see the Council.

She mused on this as she rose, and pulled on her dress. She then drew the curtain across the balcony, in case anyone could see from outside, and stretched out her wings as far as they would go. They were only a little stiff from her flight yesterday. Surprisingly she felt quite good, as if she were fully healed and back to her old self, as it were. No doubt she was not completely ready, and certainly trying anything too taxing could open old wounds, but it was good to flap them a bit to get some exercise.

The door opened and she turned, expecting to see Lukas with their breakfast. Suzanna stared instead at the shocked face of a maid.

She was greying and wearing an apron, and she carried a few towels over her arm. She stared at Suzanna, at her spread wings and inhuman looks. Before she could say a word, the woman screamed at the top of her lungs, dropped the towels and fled.

Suzanna stared at the door in surprise. Then her mind recovered and she desperately looked around for the cloak, so she could hide herself.

It was balled up at the end of the bed as always. She began to hear shouts coming from the corridor, and she quickly grabbed the cloak and ran to the balcony. Soon there would be people here, looking for the daemon in their midst. She tried not to panic, even though the fear of discovery churned her stomach. Her daemonic side understood self-preservation, however, and quickly arrived at a plan.

She closed the curtain behind her, and glanced over the railing. It was perhaps twenty feet above the ground outside, and there were trees and bushes that shielded the view from the road. There were other balconies to the left and right, but it was still early enough that they were empty. She climbed over the railing, opened her wings, and dropped quickly to the ground below. Then she wrapped the cloak around her, and walked around the base of the spire, looking for the archway and trying to remain inconspicuous.

This was bad. She had to get back to Lukas. Suzanna looked around furtively as she joined the flow of traffic on the road, and followed the same route to the archway of the column that they had taken the day before. Eventually she stepped behind a small cart, and followed it all the way inside.

The marketplace was just waking up. She hurried on, ignoring every call from the stall-keepers imploring her to look at their goods. One snippet of conversation caught her ear, as she walked behind a large stall selling fruit.

"...A daemon in Bastion! What nonsense is that?"

She paused, listening intently for more. The speaker was a tall, thin, sour-faced woman in a flowing blue dress with a basket on her arm, who chattered to the young man stacking up apples beside her.

"That's what they said, madam. On a caravan from the Third, no less, and the creature threw a woman off the trod over by the blessings bowl."

The woman scoffed. "Such silliness. Daemons can't get into Bastion, the Nine would never allow it. Here, give me ten of those..."

Suzanna began to walk faster, her mind ablaze with worry.

She saw the inn, and almost ran towards it. As she reached for the handle, she heard the innkeeper shouting, and the sound of Lukas' voice. Between staying outside, in full view of dozens of people, and being with Lukas, she had to choose the latter, and she opened the door nervously and slipped inside.

The innkeeper was in full voice, and the sight of her stopped him dead. He stared at her in confusion. The maid stood next to him, her hands twisting in her apron and her eyes red with crying. Lukas had stood in front of them both, but he quickly went to Suzanna with a sigh of relief, and took her hand.

"I told you she had just gone for a walk," he said loudly, staring defiantly at the innkeeper. "She thought you were eaten by the daemon," he said softly to her.

"See, Ellie? Apologize to the Lord Knight this instant!" the innkeeper said sternly.

"I will not! I know a daemon when I see it, nasty things they are! And that one was huge, and ugly, and had claws the size of steak knives and wings as big as itself!" Ellie was past the point of shock, and now well into being furious that no one believed her. Suzanna immediately felt guilty, but how could she have known that someone would ignore Lukas' instructions for them to be left alone?

"Did you not see the daemon in your room, madam?" Ellie asked.

"I've been out walking since early this morning," Suzanna said quietly. "I left the curtains drawn, though. I suppose they might look like wings."

"There," said the innkeeper. "It's just the curtains!"

"It was not the curtains!" Ellie shouted.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" The innkeeper grabbed at her apron, and wrestled it off her. "Get out! You're fired!"

Ellie glowered at him, and shoved him back out of the way. "You can take this job and shove it where the sun don't shine, if you let monsters into your inn and don't even know it! I know a daemon when I see it, Frenta, and that was a daemon, plain as day! I'll be telling everyone I know that there's a daemon threatening the city, because I say I saw it and I'll not be fooled into thinking I didn't!"

She stormed out of the inn, and slammed the door behind her. Suzanna winced at the sound.

The innkeeper looked ready to tear his hair out in frustration, but he restrained himself and turned to Lukas. "I am so sorry, Lord Knight. There's a rumor going around that a daemon was seen in Bastion, and it's put many people on edge. Please, I'll arrange a good breakfast for you and your wife before you leave, no charge at all."

"It's fine," Suzanna said. "I'm sorry she left. I'm sure everything will be alright, and she will come back once she's calmed down."

The innkeeper sighed. "You're too kind, madam."

Suzanna caught Lukas' eye. He nodded, and took the man's arm. They exchanged a few quiet words, and then the lord went and retrieved a small flask from behind the bar and gave it to the innkeeper, who accepted it gratefully.

Suzanna sat down, worn out by this excitement and the woman's vitriol. They truly feared daemons here, in Bastion, and they probably had good reason. Just once, though, she wished she could meet someone and not have them scream in fear or run away.

Lukas left Alton to help the innkeeper, and sat down beside her. "I guessed that something had happened, when the maid ran past me in tears." he said quietly.

Suzanna looked at him mournfully. "She just walked in, and I was stretching out my wings. I thought it was you."

He patted her hand. "There is nothing to be done about it now. I am sure we can do something for the innkeeper, seeing as we just drove away one of his employees. Will you still have breakfast?"

She nodded, and he went into the kitchen. They managed to scrape together a breakfast of bread and fruit, and it was all Suzanna wanted. She was becoming increasingly nervous about her impending meeting with the Council.

## Chapter Twenty-Six

### Serendipity

After seeing the inn put to rights, they collected the horses and set off again. Lukas' arm was still bound up and sore, but with the help of the priest, he was strong enough to ride. The islands above were moving briskly, casting shadows around the city. Suzanna's nervousness grew.

They walked quickly, following the large boulevard towards the enormous central column. All around them, there were people walking or riding, and she heard the word 'daemon' often as they passed by. It seemed that news was beginning to travel, and all at once Suzanna felt much less safe.

The trip was almost too quick, but they rode for the best part of the day before the column was within reach. It was surrounded by its own wall, carved with the history of Bastion itself and the exploits of the Distant Nine. Up along it, she could make out tiny rows of lights, which indicated a floor or hall. It was impressive, and almost overbearing at this distance.

There was a tall archway at the end of the road, and it curved up into an intricate stone knot over which floated a complete crest, bearing nine linked stars. Banners hung from the wall on either side, and before the arch there was a line of people waiting to gain entrance to the column.

Lukas whispered into her ear. "These are petitioners, come to ask the Distant Nine for advice if they can give it. They also look for services from the Council apprentices, and sometimes visit people who work here. This is the College of the Sky, and the Council of the Distant Nine rule from the very top of it, called the Crown of Bastion."

She looked up and up, and up farther to the ring of light crystals around the top of the column, and gulped. She was becoming truly scared now. How would they get to the top of the College? It was hundred and hundreds of feet high, and her wings were not strong enough to lift her that far.

They walked past the long line, and Lukas rode directly to the guards who stood at attention at the gate. They were not like conventional guards, as Suzanna would have imagined them. They carried no weapons, and they wore loose flowing robes of bright blue, with a small crest on the collar.

Lukas bowed gracefully from his horse, or as gracefully as he could while Suzanna sat in front of him as well. He saluted, in deference to the guard of the Council.

"I am Lord Lukas, of the House of Justice. I have come for an audience with the Council of the Distant Nine, and I should be expected."

The guard looked him up and down, and then opened his hand. A small glowing ball appeared in it, and he studied it for a few moments. Then his eyes widened, and he bowed in response.

"Lord Lukas, welcome to the College. You are expected. Please go inside and follow the road, and a guide will be with you shortly."

Lukas and the knights moved forward as one, but the guard stopped them. "My instructions are for you and your... wife alone, Lord Knight. My apologies."

Lukas turned to Alton, who glared at the guard, and nodded curtly to him. The knights wheeled their horses and rode away.

Suzanna became more and more frightened as they moved beyond the arch. The road continued towards the base of the column, and all around there were robed figures walking around the gardens. They were talking, practicing magic... but she imagined that they watched her, and it was completely unnerving.

At the base of the College there were, again, a series of archways and doors, and these ones were lit from within. The road led directly to one of them, and a figure appeared from it and approached them. It was an old man, still tall and straight-backed but heavy with the knowledge of years. He was garbed in the same blue robe as the rest, but his collar was golden, and he carried no crest.

He bowed to Lukas, and bade him dismount. They did so, and Suzanna had to stop herself from hiding behind the lord in anxiety.

"Lord Lukas, I presume?" he said, in a deep and resonant voice which did not quite fit with his aged frame. Lukas nodded in response. "And the Lady Suzanna, also known as Sunekhar, or Sister Jaydanna Repentance?"

Suzanna nearly squeaked in shock. He knew her name—all her names! She began to tremble in fear, but managed to nod as well.

The man bowed to them both gracefully. "My name is Verom. I will be your guide in the College of the Sky. I have been instructed to take you to the Council of the Distant Nine."

There was no mention of what they would do. No mention of whether they would talk to her or simply destroy her utterly. Suzanna would have panicked, except for Lukas beside her and holding her hand tightly.

Verom waved his hand in a circle, and a floating disk appeared with a single bright flash of magic. It was quite large, and he stepped onto it confidently before gesturing to them to join him. Lukas put one foot onto the disk cautiously, and when it supported his weight, he helped Suzanna up before stepping up himself.

A rail appeared around the edge of the disk, ornate and scrolled in bronze and ivory. It enclosed them as the disk began to move.

Up and through the archway it went, and Suzanna gasped at the sight on the inside of the column. It was entirely hollow, and all around the inside she could see broad hanging gardens and galleries. There were even people walking on the inside of the wall, on paths that were lit by lines of arcane power, and they were walking normally as if it were the ground! And at the centre of the empty space there was a beam of light, that shot from a huge opening in the earth all the way through the column and onwards. Her daemonically powerful vision could almost make out sky, so far above at the end of the light.

She stared in wonder, and for a moment her fear was forgotten. Lukas squeezed her hand, and together they watched the faraway stars as the disk moved up the beam. He drew her close, and she was happy for one perfect moment while they were together, staring up at the night sky.

Verom chuckled gently, and broke the reverie. Suzanna looked at him with new anxiety, and Lukas became guarded and watchful again.

"Be at ease, please. This is a beautiful place, is it not?"

Suzanna nodded slowly, wondering if this was a trick. "It is more beautiful than the city outside."

"I will take that as a compliment," he said with his eyes twinkling. "Now, if you will allow me, I will bring you to the observatory."

Suzanna frowned, confused. What observatory?

They continued up and up, and the disk moved much faster than a mere horse. Suzanna watched the people all around them on the inside of the column wall, and marveled again at how such a thing were possible.

At the top the light grew brighter, almost blinding, and they both shielded their eyes. Then it faded, and when they opened them, they found themselves in a bright and airy hall. It was domed, perfectly circular, and its ceiling was painted with constellations.

Verom stood beside them. He pointed at the very center of the ceiling, where there was one large motif of the crest of the Distant Nine. Directly below that on the floor, there was a small platform. Suzanna looked around, but there was no sign of an opening or a window where the stars could be seen. More magic, of course, and it spoke of just how powerful the Council really were.

Verom touched her shoulder lightly, and she jumped in surprise. "You may remove your cloak now, Suzanna. There is no one here to see bar myself, and I am not likely to run away in fear."

She stared at him, confused and afraid and most of all wondering if this was the end, and she would be destroyed, here in this bright place. But Lukas was there with her, and he already had his hand on his sword.

Verom laughed. "Oh come come, I am not about to bite you! Please, allow me to take your cloak." He reached out graciously.

Suzanna stared at his hand, but slowly pulled down the hood and lifted the cloak off her shoulders, revealing her large wings and darkened skin. She rolled it up as she always did, and handed it wordlessly to Verom.

He stared at her, then walked all around her with a curious expression. "Remarkable, truly remarkable," he murmured. "My dear, you are the most astonishing creature I have ever seen."

She turned as he walked around. "What does that mean?" she asked.

He stopped in front of her again, and stood tapping his cheek with one finger. "You only see the flesh, of course, but it seems Dariem was not completely mad in his experiments. You, Suzanna, are the first and maybe the only success he has ever had." he mused, almost ignoring her question.

Lukas looked impatient. "Where is the Council, old man?" he demanded roughly.

Verom arched an eyebrow. "Patience, Lord Knight. I would like to question this lady first."

"Will you trade a question?" she asked. "If I answer, will you answer one of mine?"

Verom chuckled and nodded. "What an interesting idea. I agree. Now, I must know, do you remember your life as a daemon?"

She decided to be honest. It was likely not going to make much of a difference. "I remember little things. Feelings. Images. I have no solid memories, and those that I can remember are vague and fleeting."

He hummed, thinking. "Yes, and your human side? No memories of Lord Lukas' wife, Sister Jaydanna?"

"The same. Now my question." He nodded, and waited. "Will the Council kill me or not?"

Verom stared for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Kill you?" he wheezed. "Oh my dear! Do you think we are monsters, like the daemonva?"

She stared, suddenly guessing what he was. "You, you are one of the Distant Nine!" she exclaimed.

He wiped a tear from his eye. "Yes, I am. I am the Distant First, in fact. Please, forgive the deception. I wanted to at least try to put you at your ease. I took a personal interest in your case, as Dariem is – was – my pupil."

"He is the sorcerer?" Lukas burst out at this point, incredulous. "But no one names the sorcerer! The name gives him power!"

Verom waved him away. "I laugh at his strength, Lord Knight, and I am not beholden to such rules. I am a far more powerful wizard than him, which, by the way, is partly why I am so interested in you, my dear."

"Me?" said Suzanna. "Why me?"

"You are a phenomenon. A perfect meldling, of a human soul into the flesh of a daemon, and it appears you have not lost your mind as a result." He began to walk around her again, talking as he did so. "Dariem was a prodigy, in many ways, and foremost among his ideas was the notion that all life, all flesh, was mutable, and if he could only find the right formula he could create any living thing from scratch. He was driven to learn about life, and death, and he became obsessed with the daemonva and their alien flesh. He was cast out when it became clear he cared nothing for the people he hurt in the pursuit of his goals. Possibly we should have killed him for his insanity, but he was still my pupil, and I argued for exile instead. We expected that he would eventually die to the daemons or the daevas, but imagine our surprise when we detected a true meldling approaching the city! It could only have been Dariem's work, and although I regret the harm he has caused to you both, I am pleased that you have been brought to us."

He smiled benevolently at Suzanna. "My dear, we are not barbarians, nor are we sociopaths. Killing you for the crimes of your creator would be immoral and futile, and would be akin to destroying a priceless, unique work of art simply because it was made by a madman."

Suzanna almost collapsed in relief. She would not be harmed. Lukas held her tightly in happiness, and murmured into her hair.

Verom allowed them their moment of joy, before clearing his throat and drawing their attention back to him. "There is more that you should know, Suzanna. Such as the particulars of your daemonic life."

She left Lukas' embrace, and looked curiously at him. "You know who I was?"

"I know many things," he said. "I began my research on you as soon as we perceived your approach. I discovered a little about your past, if you wish to hear it."

"Fine then. I will hear it." She braced herself for the inevitable shock of her being a monster, a killer.

"You were Sunekhar, the High General of the forces of Halca."

She simply stared at him, uncomprehending.

Verom sighed. "You were a leader, a tactician beyond compare. But your second in command was, shall we say, ambitious and desiring of your position. He bound you by magic during a battle with the daevas, and gave you to Dariem as a cruel joke."

Suzanna recalled the horrible laughing face from her memory, and the voice. _Sunekhar... How the mighty have fallen._

"I remember a little of that."

"There is more," said Verom, his face grave. "Your subordinate was not the military leader you were. He was killed in battle, and the daevas are pushing the daemons back on every front. The tremors that have been felt across Bastion are the result of their final offensive, one that may rip the earth apart."

Verom laid a hand on Suzanna's shoulder. "Your disappearance has become the catalyst that will end this war, my dear, but the question remains as to whether there will be a Bastion left afterwards."

Suzanna looked at him in renewed shock. She had never once considered that the daemons would be in any way effected by her disappearance. She had never thought that she could be important. Her previous life was a shadow, a vague and ephemeral blot on the edge of her memory. Only the last two weeks seemed real.

"What do you mean? You have been repairing the damage from the tremors."

Verom shook his head sadly. "The others on the Council have been watching and guarding ceaselessly, preventing the majority of the tremors from even occurring. We can defend the city and the outlying Outposts so far, but the tremors will get worse, and our magic is not infinite."

"What are they doing?" Suzanna asked. "What could the daevas possibly do to tear at the world this way?"

Verom gestured to the disk in the centre of the room. "Walk forward onto it," he said. "And do not be afraid."

She stepped forward nervously, and set foot on the disk. Nothing appeared to happen, so she moved forward again, standing fully on it. For a moment the room looked no different, and then the walls and roof shimmered and warped.

The world appeared from nowhere. Mountains and sky stretched away in all directions, and there was only the floor. Suzanna yelped in surprise, and Lukas ran to her side. The two of them looked about them in awe, seeing the night sky stretching away from them in all directions.

Verom appeared next to them, and as he stepped onto the disk his form became solid and real.

"This is our observatory," he said. "From here we can watch the activities of the daemonva in this land."

Suzanna simply stared in wonder, and Lukas turned to Verom. "I don't understand. The daemonva are more powerful than us, and yet you spy on them with impunity? How is it that they leave you alone?"

Verom laughed. "They do not know, of course." He gestured out at the horizon. "Out there, there are many daemonva trying to battle each other. They are too concerned with their war to consider that mere humans are watching them constantly. They are not so powerful as well, Lord Knight; against a few humans, yes, they are formidable foes, but they are no match for the magics of the Council."

"Then why do we hide from them!?" Lukas asked incredulously. "We run from them, die to them, and live underground to avoid them, and you say you could drive them back if you wanted to? Why do you do this to us, Verom? The world belongs to us, not to them!"

Verom shook his head. "It is not that simple, Lord Knight. Perhaps we could drive the daemonva entirely from the earth, but the cost would be too great. They can move freely between this plane and their own, and truly banishing them is almost impossible. The world would be made into the Plain of Lost Hope, barren and wasted. I will not allow it, not while I have the power to keep all humanva safe and still give them a good life. But this new development will make or break our future, I fear. If we do nothing, the tremors will rip the earth asunder, and if we interfere, the daemonva will drag us into their war, and we will be forced to move against them."

Suzanna looked out at the landscape before her. She could see out into the hills and plains beyond the mountains now, into the Plain of Lost Hope and the forest beyond, with the tower and dungeon she had left behind only a short time ago. In the other direction she could make out a sea, sparkling in the moonlight. This was the earth, and it was the home and cradle of humanva. The daemonva had no place here, no right to take realm and use it so unfairly. She was not used to being angered, not here in this new life, but now she was angry, and the rage burned in her like a slow fire.

"There are no other cities?" she asked.

"There are a few more settlements far away, but none like Bastion. Beyond them, who can say? Our magic can only reach so far. We cannot see into Halca or Avarone. All I know is that they have chosen this land to be their battlefield."

"Avarone?" she asked.

Verom waved his hand dismissively. "Daemons come from Halca, daevas come from Avarone."

She steeled herself, and asked the question burning at the top of her mind.

"Verom," she said quietly, "Why do you say that I can stop the war?"

"Suzanna, you must understand, our greatest magic cannot hold one of the daemonva prisoner," he said. "We have no way of compelling them to speak when they can disappear back to their homes at any time. I understand that Dariem found a method to trap you, but it is not known to us. The only way that we can save the realm of humanva is to find a way into their realms and defeat them, once and for all."

"You mean to use me," she said.

"Yes." Verom sighed, and took her hand. "Serendipity has brought you here, Suzanna. You are still daemonva, even though you are also a meldling. You are connected to Halca and Avarone. We could open a pathway through you, but you must be willing."

He meant a greater war. More blood, more battles, more lives lost. She could not imagine how far the Council's power went, but it could not be enough to prevent many more deaths, if she let them reach Halca and Avarone. If she refused, and did nothing, then Bastion—perhaps all of the world—would be torn asunder.

Suzanna walked forward, and stood at the edge of the disk. It was a terrible choice, one that she didn't want to make. Sister Jaydanna would have refused. She would never agree to something that would lead to more bloodshed. But Sunekhar would have accepted, in the hope that Avarone would be destroyed first and Halca would have time to mount a counter-attack. For all her talk of hating the daemonva, Suzanna could not face their deaths as well. The fact that Sunekhar had thrown them away without a second thought repulsed her.

Which one was she? Which would Suzanna choose? She looked out over the land, at how far she had come. In her heart of hearts, she would choose neither. She would find another way.

"Verom," she said, "I will not let you use me to destroy Halca and Avarone. The daemonva don't deserve to be wiped out. You can't do this to them."

The wizard was not pleased. "If we do nothing, the realm of humanva will be lost."

"I didn't say I would do nothing. Would you make peace with the daemonva, if you could?"

"We've tried, and they won't listen to us. They think we are no better than animals because we have no wings."

"They will listen to me," she said firmly. "If you can send me to Halca and Avarone, I will make them listen to me. I will only let you open the veil if you let me try to reason with them."

Verom touched her gently on the shoulder. "I think it's time you met the rest of the Distant Nine," he said. "You ask much of us. We don't even know how the daemonva realms could affect your... unique condition. At the moment, your two halves are balanced. Traveling to Halca or Avarone could cause one to overcome the other."

Suzanna looked down. "You mean I could revert to being a true daemon."

"Or become Jaydanna, driven insane by being trapped in a daemon's body."

Lukas suddenly grabbed her hand. They looked at each other, and something more powerful than words passed between them.

She took a deep breath. "I am willing to take the chance."

Verom could only nod, and he stepped away off the disk and vanished.

Lukas gently reached out with his good arm, and embraced her. She returned it, and for a time they simply held each other tightly, just as it was the night their pain overcome them both, and they took solace in each other. They stood for a long time, holding each other and trying not to think of anything but the stars above, and the view from the observatory. It became another moment in Suzanna's memory, another treasure to file away and hold onto when the darkness drew around her again.

## Chapter Twenty-Seven

### Finding Jaydanna

Verom returned. He looked worried, but resolute. "We will arrange for you to stay here, in the College, for the night. We need a day to arrange matters. You will meet the others tomorrow."

He led them back to the platform, and as they stepped away from the disk, the walls and roof of the observatory faded back into view. With a flash, they returned to the main column of the College of the Sky. Instead of traveling straight down along the beam as they had done on the way up, the platform moved to the side and through an archway in the column wall. It landed on an open balcony, and faded away under their feet. Verom led them through a wide corridor, richly furnished in wood, tapestries and soft carpets, and ended at a pair of paneled doors.

"You will be woken tomorrow in the morning, and we would ask that you remain here until the preparations are complete," he instructed. "I will do my best to give you every advantage, Suzanna. You will need it all."

He opened the door, and bade them goodnight.

The room was large, and very beautiful. The bed was a four poster and covered in their familiar furs, and Suzanna immediately found herself wondering how exactly the Council had retrieved them from the knights. There were no windows, but there were several large mirrors arranged about on the walls, as well as flowers and one or two comfortable chairs. Beside the bed, there was a small nightstand with water on it, and over in the corner she could see a chest of drawers.

Lukas sat on the bed, his head in his hands. Suzanna sat beside him and laid her hand on his back.

"Things will seem better in the morning, Cedric," she said gently. "They always do."

He touched her hand, and shook his head wordlessly. Suzanna knew he was desperately worried. There was nothing to be done, though – Bastion would be destroyed by tremors if the war went on, and it might be destroyed by the daemonva if the Distant Nine interfered. It was a hopeless situation, but if there was anything that she could do to help, she would do it. She was not a human, and not a daemon, and she had no other anchor in her life apart from Lukas and Bastion. She wanted to save them if she could.

But in the meantime, there was Lukas. The man she cared for, who had protected her and stayed with her and who had sworn to remain with her for as long as she needed him, and who loved a part of her in return. Still she didn't know what she truly felt for him—whether it was the last remnants of Jaydanna's love, or something wholly her own—but she could not face the thought of hurting him, whether physically or emotionally. This would be hardest on him. If something happened to her, it would be like losing his wife a second time.

She put her arm around him, and tried to talk.

"Cedric, tell me about Jaydanna," she said softly.

He sighed, and did not respond for some time. "She was beautiful, and she was more caring than any other person I have ever known. She was the light in my heart, and the song in my breast. I was blessed on the day she accepted me as her husband."

He looked off into space as he remembered. "On the day she disappeared, we were visiting the temple in the Outpost of the Distant Fourth, to the south. We went to the entrance, because Jaydanna loved to see the true sunset when she could. We thought it was safe. All I remember is looking into her eyes, and smiling at her, and then there was a flash of bright light and I woke up alone."

His voice almost cracked, and Suzanna held him tightly. "I tracked the sorcerer for weeks, moving back and forth across the Plain of Lost Hope. Alton and the other knights never left me, though. They are true friends and comrades and they refused to let me face him alone. We charged into the dungeon and all I could think about was getting to Jaydanna, and rescuing her from that monster, and I only found a few bits of cloth that could have been her dress, and a few bits of bone."

He trailed off, and Suzanna felt the drip of tears on her hands. Lukas hung his head, seemingly not willing to look at her. She cupped his chin in her hands, and turned his head towards her.

"You found more than that, Cedric," she whispered, and tears began to fall from her eyes as well. "I wish I could change everything, so that Jaydanna could still be yours and Bastion would still be safe. But I cannot, and here and now all that is left of Jaydanna is me. Tomorrow, I will come back to you, I promise." She gulped, and continued. "She is gone, and I am here. That is all we have now. It will hurt for a long time, because you must grieve for her. But it will get better. Things will seem better in the morning."

He kissed the top of her head. "You know I cannot bear to lose you," he whispered. "I do not know what will happen to us both in the next few days, but if the worst happens..."

She buried her head in his uninjured shoulder. "I will survive this, Cedric. You have protected me, and brought me to Bastion, and now I have the chance to give something back to you. I promise you, I will survive and return to you."

They both lay down together, and Suzanna curled into his chest as she had always done, his one strong arm wrapped around her tightly. They fell asleep, and neither moved until Verom woke them in the morning.

## Chapter Twenty-Eight

### The Distant Nine

They returned to the balcony, and stepped onto the disk again. Verom seemed pensive, and Suzanna was nervous. Lukas was inscrutable, and she could not guess at his thoughts, but he still held her hand firmly.

They did not return to the observatory. Instead, the disk floated around to another, far grander balcony, lined with a row of beautiful flower vases. They landed within a few minutes of setting foot on the disk, and once again it faded under their feet.

Suzanna looked to Verom questioningly.

"This is the way to the private chambers of the Distant Nine," he said gravely. "No other being has been brought this way in a very long time. The others are waiting there."

Suzanna squeezed Lukas' hand, and looked back at him. He stared sternly ahead, but his grip on hers tightened. Reassured, she turned and followed Verom.

The balcony opened out into a larger chamber with nine equally spaced chairs placed in a circle in the centre. On the far side, there was another set of double doors twice the height of a man, again made of dark paneled wood. Verom went to the doors, and threw them both open.

Suzanna was not sure what to expect. Possibly a hall filled with magical lights, or a room of mystical artifacts and power sources. Not a well-furnished, messy, and quite comfortable study.

It was large, maybe three times the size of their bedroom. Bookshelves lined the walls, and there were papers and odd magical devices on several tables scattered about, and a few floating light crystals. At one end, there were couches and comfortable leather chairs, a few looking very battered and worn. There were two other single doors leading out on either side of the room.

There were four men and four women sitting or standing around the study, all wearing similar blue robes. Suzanna could only think that these must be the Distant Nine, and like Verom they were nothing like she had imagined. Two of the women were young, and quite pretty; one was middle-aged, and had a regal bearing; the last was grey-haired and hunched, but her eyes glittered with life and mischief. The men were similarly distinct; one was young, perhaps no more than a teenager; another was older than Verom and quite wizened; two were broad shouldered, blonde haired, and nearly identical to each other.

Verom gestured at them. "Suzanna, Lord Knight, may I present the Distant Nine."

She simply stared, as they came forward. The twins were reserved, and nodded graciously to them both, but the older woman immediately skipped up to Suzanna and around her, touching her wings and her skin and cooing in interest. She shrank back from them, nervous and afraid, but the woman poked her in the side and laughed.

"Skittish, this one, Verom! How can we accomplish anything if she will not let us near her, hmm? Hmm? Such a strange and delicate meldling, yes. Dariem was a monster, but no fool."

She cackled, and then caught one of Suzanna's wings and tried to stretch it out. Verom caught her hand, and quietly encouraged her to leave the daemon alone.

He introduced them. "Naomee, the Second, please forgive her impertinence. Lutran and Letran, the Third and Fourth," he pointed at the twins, who smiled in unison, "Vaska, the Fifth," and one of the younger women who wore large spectacles nodded shyly. He gestured in turn at the wizened old man and the teenager, "Chevan and his great-grandson Arkiss, the Sixth and Seventh," and then at the second young woman and the older regal one. "And lastly, Rana and her cousin, Queen Lisaben, the Eighth and Ninth."

Suzanna looked at them all in wonder. "I – I am honored to meet you." she stammered. "I hope that I can help you."

Arkiss stepped forward and spoke confidently, and once again Suzanna was mystified by how strange this little group was. "I think I have found something more useful than a simple transport, Verom. If my calculations and Grandfather's divinations are correct, we may be able to gain access to both Halca and Avarone through the metamagical psychic patterns left in this meldling's memory. It will simply be a matter of activating certain memories in a particular interlocking key chain..."

He obviously knew what he was talking about, but Suzanna was entirely confused after a few moments. Verom understood, though, and nodded several times in agreement.

"... so you see, if we can induce a feedback echo in the upper level power flows, we will be able to link one of our crystals into the connection and force a chain reaction in the realm boundaries of either plane, and thus limit the transfer to a psychic representation."

Arkiss stopped and smiled, obviously pleased with himself. Lisaben frowned in response.

"We do not agree," she said sternly. "We suspect that such an echo could easily destabilize the earthen realm boundaries as well, and we advise against such an action. Bastion does not need daemonva flitting around and causing a panic." She spoke like a monarch, and with such conviction and bearing that Suzanna felt she could not disagree, even though she could not understand any of what was said.

Verom shook his head. "No, the same would be true of a direct transfer. This is better. One of us can make the connection with her."

Lukas finally snorted in frustration. "Excuse me, but neither of us have even the faintest idea as to what you are discussing. Do you plan to send Suzanna to Halca or not?"

Naomee giggled like a child, and danced forward again to poke Suzanna in the stomach. "That means you will not go alone, meldling," she crooned. "Through your memories, yes, because in your pretty head is the link that leads back to Halca, and through Halca to Avarone. The daemonva, hmm, they are not so different from each other, and we can find a way to slip through your mind, like little fishes, and attack them in their own homes! Yes! See how they like it!" she screeched.

Verom took notice of Suzanna's terrified expression. "Control yourself, Naomee. We're not going to start fighting immediately."

He turned to Suzanna. "My dear, you carry within you a link to Halca, because that is where your daemonic self came from. It is an anchor that we can use to reach through the barriers between the realms. The daemonva are, in fact, similar enough that we can use the same link to access Avarone. But we will not send your physical self—we will only send a spirit representation of you, and one of us will travel with you to keep you safe."

Suzanna wrung her hands nervously. "But you need my memories? I can't remember much of anything."

Verom looked thoughtful. "The process will cause you to remember some things. It may change you, or it may not. It is certainly safer for you, I promise you this much. However," his eyes darkened for a moment, "the daemonva could reach us through you and appear in this realm inside Bastion."

Suzanna stared at him, all at once fearful and amazed. The thought of allowing the daemonva into Bastion turned her stomach. But this was the only choice she could accept, and so she was resolute. Jaydanna would not have shied away from this, and Sunekhar was no coward. "I am ready to help in any way I can," she said, and her voice did not betray the skittering in her stomach.

Verom nodded, and gestured to the others. "Naomee is our most experienced dream walker, and she will go with you. Both of you will talk to the daemonva, and see if a truce is possible. She knows many useful spells."

"What will happen?"

"Your body stay here, but your mind will be catapulted to Halca," Verom said evenly.

Suzanna's anxiety increased at the thought of going to Halca, even if only in spirit. Naomee grinned at her, and laughed quietly. Verom led her to the soft chairs, and bade her sit down. The Distant Second sat opposite her, staring at her with her brilliant eyes.

"We will perform the needed magics here, Suzanna. May the sword stand between you and all harm."

Lukas knelt before her, and took her hand. "I will stay with you," he said softly. "I swore that I would. Believe in this, Suzanna, and come back safely to me." He kissed her hand, and then sat beside her watchfully.

Verom nodded to the others, and they all sat either in the chairs or on the couches. Suzanna stared at her hands nervously, and just as they started chanting she squeezed Lukas' hand, and shut her eyes tight.

## Chapter Twenty-Nine

### Spires of Halca

There was a long moment of nothing, and Suzanna wondered for a moment if she would feel anything. She risked opening her eyes, and then leapt in shock.

The study was gone. Lukas and the Distant Nine were gone. She stood on a tall cliff of bare red stone, and below her she could see waves of blood red surf that had stained the scattered rocks. The sky was darkened and crimson, and the sun on the horizon was an angry blot.

There was no grass, no animals. Nothing living appeared nearby. No birds, no trees, and she wondered if there were any fish in the sea. She turned and looked around her, but there was nothing but barren rock stretching away.

Suddenly there was a cackling laugh, and Naomee appeared. Here, in this unreal place, she did not look anything like the old woman she was. Here, she was a tall and slim figure, her form barely clothed in leaves and her hair floating around her head in plaits as if it had a life of its own. There was no mistaking the eyes, though – they were just as piercing and glittering – and the high cackling laugh.

Naomee twirled gleefully, and then clapped Suzanna on the shoulder. "See, good, we got here safely! And now the fun can begin!" She looked out to the sea and back into the barren desert behind them. "Hmm, hmm, this does not look like much fun. Where do we go now then, meldling? Where, where, where?" She poked Suzanna again, who rubbed her stomach and stared around her helplessly.

"I think this is Halca, but I have no idea where I am or which way we should go," she said, and threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't remember anything, Naomee. This is not going to help us at all."

Naomee hummed to herself while she stared at the water and mused. Then she giggled again. "The daemonva, they are all flyers, yes? Flitting around like birds all the time, they are. We should fly, fly up high, and see what we can see."

Suzanna shrugged, and opened her wings, then faltered. "I do not think I can carry you as well as myself."

Naomee laughed uproariously, as if this were the funniest thing she had ever heard. "Silly little meldling! Silly little Suzanna, you cannot lift me, no, no. I am not the Distant Second for nothing, am I not? Watch me, watch carefully."

She leaned forward and spread her arms out wide. There was a faint trail of magic, and leaves fountained out of her back, swirling around her like a tornado. Then they cleared, and she was left with a pair of leafy wings almost exactly like Suzanna's.

The daemon stared at her in amazement, and Naomee laughed and twirled again. Suzanna privately decided that although she was here to help and probably a very powerful ally, the Distant Second was just a bit crazy. Still, she was grateful for her presence in this strange land. It would have been all the more frightening if she had been here alone.

They took off, and Suzanna relished the feel of the air under her wings. But the air was wrong here, stale and unmoving. It did not feel like proper air, as if the life was removed from it long ago. Beneath her, the land spiraled away, and she could see that the cliff was little more than one side of an island in the vast ocean. It was one of many, scattered throughout the waters, and there was no sign of life on any of them. Where were the castles that she had dreamed of? Where were the daemons?

Gone.

The echo rose from the depths of her mind, little more than a forlorn, wistful statement of truth from Sunekhar's memories, and probably the only one that she did not immediately push away. Halca was dying, sinking into the blood ocean. The castles and cities of the Daemon-Ra were all but lost.

There had to be something here. Halca was not completely empty. Verom had said that the daevas had pushed the daemons back on every front, and where else would they come if not home, to the only realm where the daevas could not go? She looked in every direction, hoping to see something, anything, that might show them the way forward.

As they flew higher, Suzanna saw a spire of rock sticking up out of the sea far away. She immediately felt a flare of familiarity, another echo from Sunekhar that pushed her towards it. "Naomee!" she called out, "Over there! I see something!" She pointed out in the direction of the spire as they circled.

Naomee laughed in delight. "Excellent, meldling! I will race you to it!" She took off like a shot, and her wings trailed a small shower of leaves in the dead air.

Suzanna gritted her teeth, and then opened her wings and launched herself after Naomee. She caught up quickly, and although this was probably a dangerous area for them both, she found herself enjoying the race as Naomee wheeled and rolled and generally cackled in mischief.

They reached the spire quickly, and it was too close of a thing to call. They landed on the top almost simultaneously, and the Distant Second was laughing and giggling all the while.

"How are we standing on this, if we are only here in spirit?" Suzanna asked curiously.

"Oh, very simple indeed, meldling," Naomee said. "The land has been here long enough that it has its own dream, made of all the dreams of all the little daemons, and it lets us pretend that we can be as solid as the rock beneath us."

She had to accept that as an answer, even though she hardly understood what it meant.

The spire was small, and seemingly deserted. There was nothing up here but a small carving, of two crossed lines and a third running through them. They seemed oddly familiar. She reached down and touched it, and suddenly a flood of memory rushed through her head.

## Chapter Thirty

### Sunekhar's Orders

The sun was brighter than usual today, as she stood on top of the Eastern Spire. She looked out to the north, and in the far distance she could make out the light of the Rift and the tiny figures of the Eleventh Battalion flying patrol around it. Sunekhar sniffed the air, and wrinkled her nose at the scent of the rotten waves below. The blood ocean was particularly pungent this morning, which was never a good omen.

She flexed her wings restlessly, and waited for her second in command to approach. He was merely average in comparison to her tactical brilliance, but she had no other daemon who could rally the troops as well as he, and he fought with conviction in battle. That was good enough to keep him in his place, but not enough to truly earn her respect. He desperately wanted the Generalship for himself, and he would never have it as long as she acquitted herself so well in the war.

Jennask landed awkwardly, and she knew the instant his feet touched down that he had failed. It was in his body, his minute gestures and changes in breath and heat. She almost smiled; it was amusing to be able to chew him out, and she had little enough amusement these days. Halca was slipping away faster than they had anticipated, and the campaign in the humanva realm was all the more important because of it.

"Reporting as ordered, General Sunekhar," he said with a slight sneer. Jennask despised her, she knew this for certain. She enjoyed his inadequate hatred, as well as his incompetent attempts to unseat her that could never quite live up to his boundless ambition.

"The daevas at the fifteenth garrison?" she said simply.

He squirmed, and almost grumbled. "We lost them over the mountains. My scouts suspect that they used part of the cave system to evade us –"

"You lie," she said nastily. "I know that the daevas faced you in the air above the mountains, and you were beaten badly. I am most disappointed in your failure, Jennask. You are a disgrace to the Army of the Daemon-Ra."

Her words were cutting and vicious, and she could see him become enraged with every moment. She smiled to herself, then turned away from him, her armor glinting evilly in the red light.

"I will have to go myself, to fix your pathetic mistakes. It is an insult for a General of my standing needing to go into the human realm on what amounts to clean-up duty, but you have left me no choice. I will not see our campaign brought to a standstill because of your stupidity, Jennask. Now go, and ready the troops for my arrival."

He was almost shaking in rage by this point, and she relished watching his fists curling and uncurling impotently. Then he half-saluted, and left.

She took a deep breath, and went back to watching the Rift. The battle that they had lost was inconsequential by itself, but she had intentionally ordered a full third of the reinforcements to stay back and out of it in order to draw the daevas. They would press the advantage and attack the garrison in force within three days, and then she would outflank them with an entire battalion and grind them to a bloody mess. Then, if all else went well, she would lead the battalion west and finally establish a new garrison, and begin launching attacks into the heart of the daevas' territory.

Of course, Jennask didn't know that. She grinned nastily, and thought about how best to humiliate him in front of the troops when she passed through the Rift and into the humanva realm.

## Chapter Thirty-One

### Last of the Daemon-Ra

Suzanna came to with a start, and found Naomee knelt over her and examining her head. She groaned, and tried to stand up.

"Easy, easy, peasy, little meldling. You nearly fell off the rock here, yes you did." Naomee helped her up, and she wobbled for a moment before finally finding her feet.

"I saw..." she said uncertainly, "I remembered standing here before, when I was a general." She fell silent, thinking over the strangeness of the recollection. She had been someone else. It was an odd feeling.

"I remember that there was a rift out to the north from here," she said, and pointed. There was a thin sliver of light out there, barely distinguishable in the reddish sunlight. She could not see any figures around it, but the light was not quite as bright as in her memory and there could easily be a full battalion out there.

"Hmm, hmm, then there we fly, yes we do," said Naomee in a sing-song voice. She leapt from the spire, and expected Suzanna to be well able to follow. The daemon sighed in resignation, and leapt after her.

They flew quickly enough, despite Naomee's liking for doing loops and barrel rolls. The light became brighter soon enough, and now Suzanna could see figures flying about. She immediately became fearful, and could only trust that Naomee was not quite the idiot she seemed, and that they were not really here at all.

She watched the Distant Second closely, and it seemed as if a change came over her gradually. Her leaves began to change, hardening and becoming more metallic. In a second it was clear that Naomee was not clothed in leaves, but in an odd plated armor, and her wings were rapidly becoming razor sharp.

As they approached, three figures broke away and flew towards them. Naomee stopped and hovered in the air, and Suzanna did the same. She did not feel fatigue from flying here.

The figures became three large daemons in blackened metal armor and long spears. They began to fly around them both in circles, threatening and close. Suzanna tried not to show how afraid she was.

"Who and what are you? State your name, daemon! You had better have a good explanation for being here, or we will run you through and leave your worthless carcass for the sharks below!" the leader called out.

For a moment Suzanna had no idea how to reply. Luckily, Naomee stepped in and spoke for them both.

"I am the Distant Second, one of the rulers of the human city of Bastion, and you had better speak politely when you talk to me, daemon, or I will rip your pathetic little legs from your body and eat them," she said in a ringing voice. All trace of giggling or cackling was gone from her voice, and she spoke like a true warrior. Suzanna stared at her in shock, before the daemon soldiers turned their pikes to Naomee and gestured threateningly.

"No human can enter Halca," the leader spat. "No human can even pass through the Rift alive. So I say you are an illusion, conjured by this one here." He raised his pike to strike Naomee through the chest, but Suzanna thought quickly.

"Stand down!" she shouted. "By my order! You will stand down, all of you! Do you know who I am?" Though her heart was pounding in her chest, she held her head high and looked at them defiantly.

The daemon looked at her incredulously. Then a glimmer of recognition appeared.

"The General," he gasped. "General Sunekhar!" He lowered his pike slowly, while the other soldiers stared at him in disbelief. Suzanna tried to glare at him, recalling the memories of her speaking to Jennask.

The leader went pale, then turned and began to fly as far and as fast as he could. His soldiers began to fly after him, confused and slow.

Naomee shook her head. "We will go carefully, yes. Something is not right here." They both began to fly towards the rift.

It coalesced into a thin line of white light that hung in the air like a knife cut. More of Sunekhar's memories filtered through her mind; the Great Rift was the first anchor, created centuries ago, that let the daemonva enter the humanva realm. Below it, on the wide expanse of red, barren land, there were hundreds of blackened tents, and glowing bonfires. Figures moved between them and swarmed like flies, and out of the chaos something resembling an order appeared. The battalion was mobilizing, and in seconds they were approached by a contingent of daemon warriors. They took up station around Suzanna and Naomee as the pair descended. Suzanna shivered. They were guided by subtle movements to a higher platform with a slightly larger tent, with several smoking torches stuck into the dirt outside it.

They landed, and a single figure appeared from the tent. Suzanna thought that she looked familiar. It was a tall, daemon woman in slick black armor and carrying a wicked two-handed sword. She had a look like a thrown dagger, and she seemed all at once frustrated and angry.

"You return," she said slowly. "Sunekhar returns, and brings with her an apparition. Why should I not run you through right now?"

Naomee spoke first. "Because you cannot, silly daemon. We are not truly here."

Suzanna wondered how true that was. She felt real enough, and if things turned ugly here, she was not sure she could get away from all these warriors. She had to trust that Naomee knew what she was doing, and that what she had said about dreams didn't apply to actual people.

The daemon bristled in anger. "I will test that in due time. What have you to say for yourself, Sunekhar? We are beaten back on every front, we have lost countless soldiers and arms to the daevas. All because you went missing, and without your tactical skill, the Army of the Daemon-Ra is in disarray. We may be lost, because you shirked your duty."

Suzanna looked at her in wonder. It seemed that the daemonva simply did not know that Jennask had betrayed her to the sorcerer. It was telling, in a way. She had been so afraid of them, at one stage, and now it seemed that they were just as vulnerable and fallible as any being. Tougher, more powerful than humanva, yes, but not invincible. For a moment she felt sorry for them; they were obviously fighting for a cause they believed in.

But... she was speaking their language! She was speaking the tongue of the daemons, and so was Naomee! Suzanna had been sure that she had forgotten it, so long ago. She mulled the words over in her head, wondering at how the language had returned to her without her even noticing. The words were more harsh than the human tongue, but they had many more layers of meaning.

She shook herself, and faced the daemon commander bravely. "I did not shirk my duty," she said quietly. "I was betrayed by Jennask. When I went to the human realm, I was bound and given to a human called the sorcerer, and he tortured me and kept me by magic."

The commander's eyes narrowed. "There is nothing that can keep us from returning to Halca. You expect me to believe that one of the earthbound could have done that to you?"

Her recollection flickered with another name. _Oshrak_. She was a battalion commander; competent, but not truly outstanding enough to advance much farther in the Army of the Daemon-Ra.

"Why would I lie?" Suzanna said. "Look at my wings, look at the scars! Look at my eyes! Do you think I did this to myself?"

"I don't know! You look like Sunekhar, but you dress and talk like humanva." Oshrak sneered at her. "You haven't even shaved your head."

Suzanna looked to Naomee for a moment, and then sighed. "My memories are almost gone. The General you knew is dead."

A murmur of surprise ran through the assembled daemons, and several of them drew their swords. Oshrak held up a hand and glared at them, and they quieted down.

"You are either lying, and I should kill you for your deception, or you are telling the truth, and you are useless to us," the commander growled.

"Oh please, little daemon—do try to kill us," Naomee said with a chuckle. "I'm sure that will be fun for everyone."

"Have you only come here to play word games with me then?"

"No," said Suzanna. "We've come to negotiate peace between the Daemon-Ra and the humanva."

Oshrak stared at her, then began to laugh—a harsh, throaty, derisive laugh. "Was your brain addled by whatever happened to you?" she said. "There will never be peace, Sunekhar. We have too much at stake."

Suzanna finally lowered her head for a moment, then looked into the commander's eyes. "Why do you fight?" she said softly. The commander looked at her in confusion, and she spoke louder. "I told you, I've lost almost everything of my past life. Why is this war so important?"

The commander stepped a little closer. "You don't remember?" Suzanna shook her head.

The daemon glowered at her. "Halca is turning into a wasteland, and the daevas' home of Avarone is the same. We fight for another realm to rebuild the Daemon-Ra, Sunekhar, and they would murder all of us to make sure that they get the humanva realm first."

Naomee's voice rose over them all. "You monsters are fighting over our home?" She pointed threateningly at the commander. "Arrogant, evil wretches! The realm belongs to us, to humanva! It is not yours to claim, or to fight over! It is _our_ home, and you are destroying it!"

The daemon laughed nastily. "Humans? The earthbound are primitives, barely able to take care of themselves, let alone the world. The realm will be better in our hands."

Naomee's eyes glittered. She glared at the daemon, and as she spoke, her armor began to grow. "You pitiful creatures," she said with power in her voice. "You know nothing about us, because you have never looked. You dare, you _dare_ to think we can't fight you simply because we were not born with wings? I could pluck your silly wings from your back as easily as I pluck a flower from the ground!"

Her leaf-wings stretched across the sky, and her gauntlets grew claws. The daemons backed away quickly from her. She towered over them like a wrathful giant.

"The realm belongs to humanva, not daemonva," and she punctuated the words with sweeping strikes that might have torn any of the daemon soldiers apart had they been close enough. "And so the humanva are here to put a stop to your war. You will cease fighting with the daevas in our realm, or we will destroy both Halca and Avarone."

The commander stepped back, but she was not cowed. "You don't have the power to do that!"

Naomee's armor glowed. She reached out, arcs of magical energy crackling around her hand, and picked up the struggling Oshrak. Her gauntlet seemed to waver, as if it were the surface of a pool of water. She held the commander up to her face. "Do not talk to me about power, little daemon. We have entered Halca, even though you say the humanva cannot pass through the rift. We warped your greatest General. Even now, we watch everything—everything!—you do in our realm. We know about your counter-offensive in the Plain of Lost Hope, and your mission to steal the daevas' new weapons. We, not you, have the power here, and if you do not kneel to it, we will _make_ you kneel."

"No!" Suzanna shouted. She could not let this happen. The Distant Nine had lied by omission to her. They knew so much more than they had told her and Lukas. "Naomee, stop this!" She reached out to her and pointed at the ground. "Verom said that you would give me every advantage here! Now PUT HER DOWN!"

As Oshrak began to speak, Suzanna cut her off. "Stop this, Oshrak! Do you want to end the fighting? You can, if you forget your bravado and listen to me."

Naomee was silent, and watched Suzanna with interest. Not a word was spoken among the assembled daemons.

"Let us speak in private," she said. "Naomee, we don't need to resort to violence here."

The Distant Second slowly placed the commander back on the ground, shrinking as she did so. In a few seconds, Naomee was the same height as Suzanna.

Oshrak looked shaken but grim, but she nodded towards the tent behind her. The daemons took up their stations around it, and all three entered the darkened gloom.

To Suzanna's eyes, the interior was both familiar and strange at the same time. Armor and weapons were stacked neatly around the walls, and a single tattered bedroll was tucked under one large rack of spears. The centre of the tent was dominated by a broad table covered in maps and notes, may of which were weighted down with smooth, wave-tumbled red stones. Suzanna reached out to touch one of them, and her hand passed through it. Of course. They were not really here, and she did not have Naomee's magical powers.

"You say Sunekhar is dead, but you remember my name," Oshrak said. "You talk of peace, but you bring an apparition that talks of war. What should I believe, then? Why should I listen?"

"He staked me to a wall by my wings," Suzanna said suddenly. The commander looked taken aback as Suzanna advanced on her. "Jennask betrayed me and threw me to a madman who tore out my soul, Oshrak. He broke me and took most of my memory. And then another human, a good man, saved my life and brought me to Bastion, deep in the mountains. They have treated me with more kindness and respect than I have any right to expect."

"Why should -"

"Shut up," she hissed. "Whether you believe me or not makes no difference. I asked for a chance to make peace because of what the war is already doing to the humanva realm, and not for Halca's sake. You will listen because I demand it, and I was your General once. If you don't, then we will leave and the Daemon-Ra will be destroyed."

She stared down the commander, and after a moment, Oshrak dropped her gaze.

"Speak, then," she said. "Let's say I believe you for now."

"You can't take the realm of humanva," Suzanna said. "The daevas' new weapons are destroying it, and your battles are turning it into another wasteland just like Halca. The mages of Bastion stayed out of the war rather than risk their people, but now their hand is forced. They will end this, one way or another, and one of those ways is with the annihilation of the daemonva."

She took and deep breath, and plunged on. "The humanva have every reason to hate us, but they will make peace to save any further bloodshed. The alternative will mean the death of us all."

It felt as if Sunekhar's spirit had flowed through her. For a moment, Suzanna sensed an echo of fierce, desperate pride. The Daemon-Ra were unbowed, and defiant to the last. Oshrak just needed to see reason. This was better, so much better, than an endless war.

"What are your terms?" the commander asked.

"Surrender to Bastion. Pull all your troops back to Halca immediately. Abandon every outpost in the realm of humanva." Suzanna glanced at Naomee. "And negotiations will be opened between Halca and Bastion, to give the Daemon-Ra a place to rebuild in the humanva realm."

"And the daevas?"

"The daevas will accept the same terms as you," Naomee snarled, "or Avarone will burn and every daeva will be turned into a pretty little firefly."

"This is the best choice for us. The war has to end, Commander," Suzanna said.

"Do you think I don't know that?" Oshrak turned and planted both hands on the table, and for the first time, Suzanna saw that she was far more worn, more tired, than she appeared. "We've taken loss after loss for months. If you had died, the Daemon-Ra might have called you a martyr and recovered from it—but no, you _disappeared_. Not even your body reappeared in Halca! There were rumors flying everywhere that you had turned traitor. It broke us, Sunekhar. Better that you were dead than missing!"

The bitterness in her voice stung Suzanna's heart. Regret at what had been, and rage at Jennask's betrayal, overwhelmed her. "I am sorry. I wish it had been different."

"Oh, I'm sure you do, but that changes nothing." Oshrak slammed the table with her fist. "I have barely five battalions in Halca, and two in the humanva realm. We are all that is left of the Daemon-Ra. Everyone else is dead. If I don't take your most generous offer to roll over like a beaten dog," she said, with thick sarcasm, "we can hold out for another six months, a year at most, and then all of our garrisons in the humanva realm will be lost."

"Well, it does sound like you don't have much of a choice at all, now does it?" Naomee said. "Our patience is not infinite, little daemon. Get on with it."

"If I do this, and the daevas defeat you, then the Daemon-Ra will die with Halca," she said, glaring at Naomee.

"If you don't, I'm sure I'll enjoy cracking your skulls -"

"Enough!" said Suzanna. "Those are the terms, Oshrak. Make your choice."

The daemon looked at Naomee's evilly grinning face, and gritted her teeth. She went to the tent opening. "Tirosha," she called out. "Get in here, I need you to take a message to every runner we have left in camp."

Tirosha appeared quickly. He was a sullen daemon in battered black leather armor, with a long scar running across his cheeks. They watched as Oshrak rattled off her orders, and his eyes went wide.

"Commander, this means..." he started.

"Are you questioning me, Tirosha?"

He saluted. "No, sir. Your orders will go to the runners immediately."

"Good. Now get out."

"You will not regret this, Commander," Suzanna said, as the subordinate left. "Do you know who would speak for Halca in negotiations with Bastion?"

Oshrak snorted. "I said we are all that is left. I am the highest ranking officer still alive, so I will have speak for Halca -"

Naomee cut her off. "Fine, then. You will come with us, and we will find a speaker for Avarone as well. I hope you have nothing more pressing planned for the next few hours, daemon!"

She pointed at the commander. There was a blinding flash of light, and Halca disappeared from around them all.

## Chapter Thirty-Two

### Remember Us

Suzanna opened her eyes, and saw nothing but darkness. She was instantly fearful; this was the darkness of the veil, and it tied her back to the dungeon and the hungry depths that had consumed her memory before. She tried to reach out into it, looking for anything around her by feel instead, but she could not sense her hands or arms. For a moment she was completely terrified, and then a vague sensation returned and eased her fears.

She saw a figure before her. It was a human woman in a long white dress, and a scarf tied around coiled black hair. Her face was delicate and pale, and her eyes were kind.

She reached out to Suzanna, and spoke in a gentle voice. "My beloved Cedric, how I wish I could see him again. Please take care of him, for me."

Suzanna gasped. "You are Jaydanna," she said in wonder. "Where am I then?" She looked around, but there was only blackness around them. No ground existed beneath their feet, no air moved around them. It was nothing but empty and black.

"This is the deepest part of the veil between the Halca and Avarone," said Jaydanna. "It is as thick as a dream, and as light as a thought. It is the barrier that the daemonva had to break through to reach the realm of the humanva, and, as you are traveling to Avarone, you must pass through here."

"I don't understand," said Suzanna. "What are you then, that I should meet you here?"

Jaydanna smiled faintly. "I am the part of you that was Jaydanna. Here, there are no illusions, no pretense. Things can only be exactly what they are, no more, no less. Such is the way of the veil."

Suzanna thought for a moment. "So this means I am Sunekhar," she said mournfully. "I am a daemon."

"No, you are not," a cutting voice remarked. A daemon in plate armor faded into view, her face haughty and her eyes shining with malice and power. She was the twin of Suzanna, but with pure black eyes. "I am Sunekhar, or the part of her that is left in you, meldling. My heart is broken that I am reduced to such a creature as you."

Her voice was direct, cutting and vitriolic. Suzanna still looked at her with confusion, and ignored her harsh tone.

"But what am I then? I must be one of you, but I am separate here. What does that mean?"

Jaydanna looked at her sadly. "It means that we are truly dead, Suzanna. Verom was wrong. There are no 'halves' in balance within you, because the melding was perfect. You are not me, and you are not her, though you still have a piece of us inside. You are only yourself, a person whole and complete and separate from us. You may have some of our memories, but that will not make you a soldier, or a nun. You will have to find your own way."

Sunekhar grumbled in agreement. "The veil strips away everything but what is, and you are something more than us now. Perhaps you always were, since the moment Jaydanna was fused into me."

"I have so many questions," Suzanna said desperately. "Where did my name come from? Why can't I remember everything?"

"It doesn't matter anymore!" Sunekhar snapped. Jaydanna shushed her.

"Our time grows short," she said. "You will survive this. You have the best of us in you, after all. As for your name, well, you are a meldling."

Suzanna thought back to the dungeon, and the first certainty of her name. "I thought I was remembering it, the first time I thought of it," she said softly. "It wasn't really a memory, was it?"

"No," Jaydanna said, smiling again. "You have a part of us both, and something more in between. You have always known, deep down, who you really are."

"I ask that you do something for me," Sunekhar said abruptly. "This nonsense of peace makes my teeth hurt, but I will be satisfied if my people gain the chance we were fighting for, and build a new life for themselves in the realm of the humanva. Promise you will do whatever you can to preserve the Daemon-Ra."

Suzanna gulped, and nodded. "I promise. And you, Jaydanna? What do you want?"

The woman sighed knowingly. "I want my Cedric to be happy. I know what you feel for him, Suzanna."

"I..." She stared at her feet, floating as they were in the void. "I think I love him."

"Please, tell him that, and hope that someday he will love you just as he loved me."

The three reached out to each other, and took each other's hands. Jaydanna looked to Sunekhar, and to Suzanna. "Remember us," she said softly.

"Remember us," said Sunekhar.

Suzanna nodded, then closed her eyes again.

## Chapter Thirty-Three

### Snows of Avarone

When she opened her eyes again, they stood on a vast, rolling, snowy plain, with nothing but ice and white stretching off as far as the eye could see. The sky above was cloudy, with a reddened sunset. There were no trees, no bushes, and no sign of life anywhere. The ground under her feet was hard, bare earth.

Oshrak was nowhere to be seen. Suzanna breathed in and out slowly, absorbing the new knowledge of herself. She felt both Sunekhar's and Jaydanna's memories now; still fragmented and broken, but they orbited the core that was truly her.

Naomee tapped her on the shoulder, and Suzanna jumped. "Still nervous, meldling?" she said playfully.

"No, not anymore," she said. "How should we find the daevas? I've never been to Avarone before. And where's Oshrak?"

"The little daemon is safe, back in Bastion, of course. Avarone is a dangerous place for daemons. Now, let's fly, fly up high again!"

She launched herself into the air, and Suzanna followed.

Avarone felt as still and dead as Halca. The plain seemed endless, and reached all the way to the horizon. The constant white everywhere was almost blinding. It should have been cold, but she didn't feel it.

"I want you to let me talk to them," Suzanna called out. "I mean it, Naomee!"

"Hah! The Daemon-Ra listen, yes, but will the Daeva-Ra have ears for you, meldling? What will you say to them?"

"I will make them see reason somehow!"

Naomee's cackling laughter followed her.

She spotted a small splash of color on the horizon. Suzanna wheeled towards it, and pointed it out to the Distant Second. "There!"

The color resolved itself into a giant, sprawling fortress, at the edge of a large ravine that split the plain in two. There was a bright light coming from the ravine, and Suzanna saw the thin line of what could only be another Great Rift. The fortress hung with red banners, each bearing a stylized white wing, and the air above it swarmed with daevas. The Daeva-Ra had found their own way into the humanva realm, it seemed.

Suzanna and Naomee hovered several hundred yards away.

"I will announce us," Naomee said with a mischievous grin. "Cover your ears."

Suzanna clapped her hands over her ears as Naomee pointed up into the sky. A flash of light burst out of her finger and split the air like a lightning bolt, with an accompanying roll of thunder. Then she shouted, and her voice was amplified a thousand-fold.

"DAEVA-RA! THE HUMANVA DEMAND YOUR SURRENDER!"

There were no echoes, as her voice carried across the snowy plain. Suzanna shook her head, trying to quell the faint ringing left in her ears. The swarm above the fortress turned frantic.

After several long minutes, a number of armored figures separated from the crowd, and flew towards them on white feathered wings. Naomee descended, and landed on the snow a scarce hundred yards away from the fortress wall; the daevas did the same, and stopped barely ten feet from them.

The daevas were astonishingly similar to the daemons at first glance, thought Suzanna. They were the same height, same build; their wings similarly became bigger or smaller as needed, though a daeva's was feathered and a daemon's was a toughened membrane. In color, they were the polar opposites of the daemons – where a daemon had light hair and grey skin, these had dark hair and very pale skin. Their eyes were all pure white as well, in contrast to the black of a daemon.

The leader of the group was a tall male daeva who carried a two-handed axe. His armor was golden, and shone with red filigree. His face, however, captured her attention; it was the face that haunted her from her memory fragments. She felt a thread of fear winding through her mind, in spite of her incorporeal state. Sunekhar had faced this daeva in battle, and she had not been victorious.

He did not even bother to introduce himself before he lifted his axe, and swung it at Suzanna.

Naomee reached out a single gauntleted hand and plucked the axe from his grip, then with the other hand she flicked him back into the snow. "Enough of your idiocy, daeva. I am here to end your petty little war with the daemons, and if you do not heed me, I will do very unpleasant things to you."

Suzanna flinched when he moved, and stepped back behind Naomee by instinct. The daeva spoke in a long stream of inflamed invective as he scrambled to his feet, and she realized she could not understand him at all. It was inevitable, of course, because she was not a daeva and didn't know their language, but Naomee obviously understood and responded to him promptly. Somehow, they could understand her through more humanva magic.

"The terms are simple," said Naomee. "You will cease the use of your new weapons on the realm of the humanva, or we will destroy Avarone. You will stop all hostilities with the daemons, or we will destroy Avarone. You will not attempt to claim the realm of humanva, or, of course, we will destroy Avarone. If you come to our realm, you will come as guests, not conquerors, or we will destroy Avarone. Choose one of your number to speak for the daevas and negotiate with the humanva."

The daeva looked incredulous, then laughed heartily and said something very insulting. Naomee snarled at him in rage, and poked him roughly in the chest.

"If you do not show me some respect, you stupid flying monkey, I will rip you and your friends apart this very second and leave your remains for whatever animal is lucky enough to get to them first. You WILL agree to this, and the daemons will do the same, or both Halca and Avarone will suffer! Do I make myself clear?"

The daeva scoffed at her, and still seemed defiant. He spoke quickly and strongly, and the Distant Second laughed at him in response.

"We will destroy you first, daeva. All this time you have fought against the daemons, and you never realized that we were waiting, hiding and learning. The daemon there," she said, pointing at Suzanna, "has given us access to both Halca and Avarone, and we will see who can destroy who first."

He looked fearful, and glanced mistrustfully at Suzanna.

"Naomee, can I try to speak to him?" she asked. "Help me to understand him."

The Distant Second rolled her eyes, and waved a hand over Suzanna. She felt a brief tickle of knowledge filtering through her mind. She stepped forward bravely, and reached out to the daeva's arm. They had been enemies, once, but she had to hope that their animosity could end.

He leapt back with an oath and made to strike her, but her hand passed through him, leaving a crackle of magical energy. She stood there, looking into his eyes, and hoped that he would see sense. They could not hurt each other here.

The blow did not come, though he still had his arm raised. She crossed her arms slowly and watched his face, standing unarmed in her red dress before Naomee in metal armor. His eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to decide what she was doing.

"This war has to end," she said. "We have both fought for possession of a realm that will never truly be ours. The humanva have given us a chance for a new beginning, and the Daemon-Ra have accepted it. All we ask is that the Daeva-Ra do the same."

He stared at her in confusion, then spoke. "What are you, that I can understand you?"

"I was a daemon, once. The humanva changed me with magic, so that I can speak your language. All I ask is that you consider making peace with us."

"You ask for peace now, when you are losing? We have driven you back on every front! I personally struck down your best general!" he said savagely. "I can see through your games, daemon. You are lying, and this creature is lying, and your trickery will not take the humanva realm from the Daeva-Ra."

Suzanna's breath caught in her throat. _How the mighty have fallen..._ Jennask had betrayed Sunekhar, but it was this daeva who defeated her in battle first. The memories swirled around her, and she was suddenly back on the Plain of Lost Hope, bleeding into the dirt, swimming in and out of consciousness. They had tried to advance, and establish the new garrison, but Jennask had disobeyed her orders and pulled most of the battalion out of position to meet another force in the middle of the plain. The battle still raged above her. The blow to her head made it difficult to think, difficult to return to Halca. Jennask picked her up, and delivered her to the sorcerer instead of bringing her home.

She was jolted back to the here and now, and the memory faded into a mild ache behind her eyes. The daeva still looked at her defiantly.

"Who are you?" she asked.

He sneered at her. "I am Maransa, the Regent of Avarone. Soon I will be Regent of Humanva as well, and the Destroyer of Halca."

Suzanna shook her head helplessly. Was it even worth trying to change his mind? What could she say? Sunekhar remembered him as an implacable opponent, driven by anger as much as sovereignty. She had to make the attempt regardless; if the Daeva-Ra would not relent, then Bastion would have to wage war on Avarone.

She pointed at Naomee. "That 'creature' is one of the Distant Nine, the ruling council of the human city of Bastion," she said. "You would do well to listen to her, because the Council could destroy Avarone several times over before you could even begin to muster a force against it."

He did not look impressed. "Mere illusions do not intimidate me."

"What else could convince you?" she asked. "Here I am, speaking your language, with no weapons or armor. I have come in good faith, no tricks, and no deception. We got here by human magic, and we will leave here by the same way. The only question is if you are ready to consider something other than war; if you are willing to stop fighting and actually try to build something instead. Do you really hate us that much, that you would keep fighting the daemons even if you did not have to? Surely this is better."

"You tell too many lies! We are not willing to share the human realm with you," he said. "I don't know what magic you have used to project yourself here, but I promise you this much—we will take it from your lifeless body when we exterminate your pathetic race."

Naomee had had enough. She placed a hand on Suzanna's shoulder. "You will change your mind soon, daeva. It is time for us to leave."

She tried to push her away. "Please, we can't just give up so easily."

"No. This one will not be swayed. I can't waste any more words on ears that will not hear them." Naomee looked at her pointedly. "It is time to go. I am sorry, meldling."

She gestured around her once, and there was another bright flash of light. Suzanna's cry was lost as Avarone faded before her.

## Chapter Thirty-Four

### A Promise

This time there was no trip into the void, and Suzanna began to wake up slowly. She was dizzy and tired, and she became aware of someone speaking her name urgently.

"Suzanna... Suzanna..."

It was Lukas. Memory returned to her, and she recalled her promise to tell him that she loved him. She strived to form the words, but she was too disorientated and woozy. There was a hand reaching out to hers; another touched her cheek. The room swam into view, and once again she rose out of the darkness and saw Lukas' face before her.

He smiled when he saw that she was awake, and she smiled gently in return. She whispered, "I'm back," before he reached out and pulled her into his arms.

"I promised I would come back," she said. "I'm still me, Cedric."

"I know," he said, stroking her face. "I know. You are so strong, Suzanna." He helped her to sit up and see the room properly.

The daemon commander Oshrak was passed out on the floor, apparently present in the flesh and not in spirit. Naomee stretched herself in the opposite chair, and she giggled briefly before she caught Suzanna's eye and winked. There was no sign of the domineering, militant giant now. Suzanna looked around, and saw the rest of the Distant Nine chatting quietly and nodding at her in approval.

Verom approached them, and smiled encouragingly. "The trip was a success then," he said.

She suddenly recalled her last moments in Avarone. "No, Verom," Suzanna said. "The daevas refused. They are going to take over the surface when the daemons retreat to Halca!"

His smile faltered, but he rallied well. "At least we will not have to fight the daemons. I could not hope that you would bring even one side to speak. That alone is a weight off my shoulders. As for the daevas—we will consider strategies, for now."

Suzanna looked at the daemon, who was just about starting to wake up now, then she looked back at Verom. "You did not tell me everything, Verom. Naomee threatened them."

"I said I would give you every advantage, and I did. I wanted to give you the best possible chance. Naomee is hot-headed, but she is fiercely loyal, and I thought she would be a good counterpart to your kindness. She could also protect you if something truly unpredictable happened." He sighed. "I would prefer if we did not have to hold the threat of destruction over their heads, but the daemonva are not known for being friendly, or altruistic—present company excepted. I will devise some other tactic for Avarone now. In the meantime, you and Lukas should rest a little. Have some food, perhaps."

"No," said Suzanna firmly. "I want to stay and talk with Oshrak. This is no time to eat."

Verom nodded. "Well, take a few moments to be with the Lord Knight. He has been very worried about you."

Lukas looked dubious as the First walked away. Suzanna touched him on the shoulder and smiled. They may not have time to eat, but they could have a few minutes to speak to each other.

"Come walk with me a while," she said gently.

They walked out of the study, and followed the passageway that led back to the balcony looking over the inner chamber of the column. Suzanna held his arm tightly. There would be dark times ahead, but she was bolstered by the thought that she was truly a whole person, and capable of her own feeling.

They stopped at the railing looking out over the chamber. Suzanna breathed deep, and remembered the promise made to Jaydanna.

"Cedric, I love you," she said softly. "Jaydanna loved you very much as well, and I only hope I will love you just as much." He looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"It is a hard thing to say," she said. "I have been wondering for a long time if it was truly me that loved you, or if it was the remnant of Jaydanna in me. I know now that it is me, Cedric. Just me. She loved you so much, and maybe that's why I found it easy to love you as well, but it doesn't matter. I am a real and whole person, and I am Suzanna." She reached up and touched his face, tracing the line of his jaw. "In a moment I will be going back, and I will do my best to talk to the other daemon, and somehow, we will end this war and give humanva back the realm they deserve. Afterwards, I want nothing more than to be with you, every day. I do love you, Cedric. Whatever I am, I do love you."

He embraced her, and she held him in return. He spoke as well, his voice hoarse and cracked.

"I wasn't sure," he said. "I had to hope you would... I don't know if I love you because you hold the last part of her, or because of who you are now." He looked into her eyes. "But I do. I was so afraid of losing you, Suzanna."

She kissed him. It was, for her, their first true kiss.

After a time, they simply stood there, holding each other and looking out at the beam in the central chamber. Suzanna thought that this was the happiest she had ever been in her entire life, even though she could only remember the last few weeks of it. In a way, that was her life in total. These few precious memories, and her name.

## Chapter Thirty-Five

### Oshrak's Counsel

They walked back slowly. In the study, Oshrak was sulking because Verom had taken away her sword and stuck it to the ceiling. She looked rebelliously at Naomee, who was cackling and poking at her wings. The only good sign was that she had not simply vanished back to Halca yet.

Suzanna watched as Verom tried to talk and failed. The commander had little interest in anything he had to say. As soon as she saw Suzanna, she walked away from him mid-sentence, and approached her.

Lukas squeezed her hand, and moved away. He sat down beside Arkiss, and engaged him in conversation.

"You have a pet human," Oshrak said flatly. "No wonder you're working with them."

Suzanna went cold, then hot with a flash of very pure anger. "Oshrak, I understand that you are here on a peaceful mission that will benefit Halca and the humanva, so I will tell you this out of respect. Do not ever, ever say another word about him in my presence."

The look she gave the commander must have been striking, because she stepped back with her hands raised. "Fine, fine. Let's get on with this then."

"There's something you need to see first," said Suzanna. "I think you will have to know what the humanva are capable of."

She led Oshrak out to the central chamber of the College of the Sky. Both of them stared at the pillar of light, and the hanging gardens and paths inside the column, and more marvels of arcane power than anyone could count. Suzanna simply admired it; Oshrak seemed more overawed and afraid.

"Do you understand now?" she asked. "Tell me, is there anything in Halca to compare to this?"

"No," said Oshrak. "We've spent years fighting, not building. I never imagined... humanva created this?"

"Yes, all of it. The new weapons of the daevas could still destroy it, though."

"By the Endless Sea! How?"

"It's the tremors," said Suzanna. "I experienced them myself. Bastion is deep underground, and the tremors damage the city and the passages to the surface. Has the Daemon-Ra learned anything about these weapons?"

"The scouts have found fragments of them, and we have the reports of their effects. We call them striker bombs," Oshrak said. "They create a shockwave powerful enough to rip a hundred daemons to pieces. I can't tell you how many squads lie dead because of them."

Suzanna felt her stomach churn again. "We need to stop the Daeva-Ra from using them," she said. "The realm will not survive an war with these things."

"Well, I think that mage Verom wishes to continue the war, but with the humanva _and_ the daemons against the daevas. I will not allow that. I came here to keep as many of our people alive as possible, Sunekhar. If we are to surrender to Bastion, the Daemon-Ra will not fight."

"You wouldn't protect this realm?"

"Why would we, if we can't have a place here?" Oshrak pointed out at the shining column. "Besides, any beings who can create this don't need our help, only our absence from the battlefield."

"You should talk to Verom then. He can make plans, and give you a part of the realm of humanva."

"I wanted to talk to you first." Oshrak unbuckled the strap of her helmet and pulled it off, and seemed somehow far more weary without it. She was completely bald. Suzanna noticed the bags under her eyes, and the tightness around her mouth. The commander had likely not slept in a long time.

"I need you to be honest with me, Sunekhar," she said. "I know not a single warrior would admit it to me, but most of the army is worn down, ready to stick their sword in the dirt and leave it to rust. We have been fighting this war all our lives. It was tolerable when we had hope, but all I have seen for months is loss after loss to the daevas, and dead soldiers lying on the spires of Halca to rot. Do you really think the humanva would expect us to fight for them?"

"You would not lose with humanva magic on your side. Those days are behind us, now," Suzanna said gently.

"You expect too much. Tell me again what they did to you."

"One of them took the soul of a human woman and fused it into Sunekhar's body," she replied. "It was very powerful magic, and it almost destroyed me in the process. I am not humanva or daemonva anymore. They say I am a meldling now; a new person, made from parts of two others."

"You still trust them," Oshrak said in disgust.

"I will not judge them all because one human hurt me, Commander," Suzanna said. "I was shown the greatest kindness by them when I was almost dead. They were ready to wage war on Halca and Avarone, and they stopped because I asked them to let me try to sue for peace first." She caught Oshrak's arm. "The stakes are high for them too. They don't want to send their people to die either."

"What will happen if the daevas do not agree to talk?" Oshrak asked. "It hardly matters where the battlefield is, when the bodies begin to pile up. Their people could die anyway."

Suzanna stared out at the column. "I don't know. But we have to try, Oshrak. We have to try."

Suddenly she felt a shiver in the railing under her hand. Suzanna stared at it. Her first instinct was that it was her imagination, or her mind had not fully shaken off the effect of traveling through the veil. It happened again; just the barest hint of movement, enough to dispel her doubts.

"What's wrong?" said Oshrak.

"Do you feel that?" she asked. "Like someone tapped the railing?"

Oshrak grabbed it with one gauntleted fist. "No, I feel nothing. Is this some other game, Sunekhar?"

"No, of course not."

She slid her hands along the railing. The shiver came more quickly now, almost in a rhythm. Suzanna frowned. She was hardly a longtime denizen of Bastion, and for all she knew, this was entirely normal, but some deeper instinct told her that this was subtly wrong.

When she felt the same shiver under her feet, she knew it was not something normal. Suzanna ran back to the study, leaving Oshrak to stare after her curiously.

"Verom!" she shouted. "Verom, I can feel a tremor!"

As Lukas looked up from his seat, the room shook violently, and Suzanna went sprawling onto the ground. Oshrak ran into the study behind her, buckling her helmet back on, and almost tripped over her. A dull boom echoed somewhere outside, and it shook again. She scrambled to her feet as Naomee seemed to sprout metal armor from every pore, and Verom appeared from nowhere.

"Bastion is under attack!" he shouted. "The daevas have come from Avarone!"

## Chapter Thirty-Six

### The Battle of Bastion

"Someone get my damn sword down from the ceiling!" Oshrak yelled.

Suzanna ran to Lukas' side. He had left his usual armor in their room, and didn't even have a weapon with him. They clung to each other as Verom shouted orders to the Council.

"Arkiss, Chevan, take the southern quarter. Lutran and Letran, take the east and west. Vaska, I know your shield-wall magic is experimental, but we will need it now; take the north, and do whatever you can to keep the Library whole. All of Bastion's history and writing must be protected!" He turned to the Distant Eighth and Ninth. "Your majesty—Lisaben—you were right. They have come through the connection we created. You must find a way to shut it down, and stop any more from joining this invasion. Rana, you have speed above all else, so you must be a messenger for Arkiss, Chevan and the twins. If they break through in any other quarters, find the nearest who can help and drive them back to Avarone, and above all else, protect the cardinal pillars!"

The Council nodded grimly. Suzanna could only watch, somewhat terrified, as immense magics swirled around them. Rana, the young and pretty woman with delicate features, conjured a long, razor toothed whip from nowhere, and cracked it with a sharp snap of air that left the smell of blood and death in its wake. The twins grew matching swords made of light trails. Arkiss and his grandfather sprouted armor similar to Naomee's. Then most of them simply disappeared into thin air with a ripple of power in their wake, leaving only Verom and Naomee in the study.

Oshrak was almost ready to claw her way up the wall. "Give. Me. My. SWORD!" she screamed. "I will not stay here while there are daevas to fight!"

Verom waved his hand, and the sword dropped from the ceiling. Oshrak snatched it out of the air with a beat of her wings. "Show me how to get to the battle, human, or I will cut my way through the walls!"

"Verom, what will you do? What of the people outside?" Suzanna asked.

"I have to protect the College of the Sky," he said. "There is much power here, and I cannot risk any of it falling into the hands of the daevas. We have prepared for this since Bastion's founding, and we will survive. The mages and knights of Bastion will protect the people, as long as we can drive the daevas out and stop them from bringing the cavern down on top of us."

"I will strike them down from the air," Naomee said, licking her lips. "Long have I waited for this, oh yes! They will suffer like nothing else in this world!" She stretched out her hands, and the leaf-armor thickened around her gauntlets. She spun on one heel, and when she faced them again, she carried a silver sword and a shield with the crest of the Distant Nine.

"Suzanna, Lord Lukas, you should stay here," Verom said. "You will be safe -"

"No."

Her voice wavered at first, but as Suzanna said it again, her conviction grew stronger. "No. Sunekhar would have fought to her last breath, and Jaydanna would have given her life to protect the innocent. This is my battle as much as it is yours, Verom. I will not walk away from it."

"I have a duty as a knight," said Lukas. "I can't hide in here either. The people need me, even if I have to fight with one arm."

"Very well then," said Verom. "Lord Knight, go to the base of the College, and do what you can to keep the people calm. Lead them into the College if you can. They will be safe here. Suzanna, and you, Oshrak," he pointed to the commander, "go with Naomee and fight with her."

Naomee gave them both a wide grin. "Well, if you're going to fight, you'll need a weapon worthy of a daemon!" She pointed her sword at Suzanna, and a thin strip of light appeared from it. The light extended forward and shaped itself into a spear; silver, like her sword, with a thin leaf blade.

Suzanna grasped it. The spear was heavier than it looked, but it spun in her hands as if she had wielded it for years and understood its weight. It was another echo of Sunekhar; the General had been a master of many weapons, and the knowledge and instincts of combat came to her as naturally as breathing. Suzanna held it close and nodded in thanks to Naomee.

Oshrak laughed harshly, and ran out to the column. Naomee followed without a backward glance. Verom was gone a moment later, in a flash of magical power.

Lukas took her hand and squeezed it. "I love you, Suzanna," he said.

"Cedric, if something happens..." she began.

"We will survive this, I promise."

"I am so happy to be with you, Cedric. I am so happy to love you," she said, her voice cracking in her throat. "The only true memories I have are beautiful and precious because of you. Whatever happens, I want you to know that."

He embraced her quickly. They kissed; a hurried meeting of tongue and lips, and then she had to go.

Suzanna ran to the column and leaped over the railing. Her wings opened and caught the air, and she pulled them in to dive at a fantastic speed. Instinct took over from conscious thought as she slowed near the base, and saw Oshrak and Naomee ahead of her. All around them, people streamed into the College from the boulevard outside, taking refuge from the daeva attacks.

She only had to follow the trail of screaming, terrified humans to find out where the other two had gone. She swooped through the archway out into the College gardens, and rose again on strong wingbeats into the open expanse of the cavern. She caught up with them quickly, as she had no armor to slow her down.

Bastion was alight with magic, and the air was filled with flying figures. As she watched, several small points of light fell from the figures, and each one exploded with a ferocious boom that shook the ground under their feet. But Bastion's defenses were alive and well, and there were domed shields around the larger stalactites, stalagmites and columns that resisted the destructive bombs.

A particularly strong tremor rocked the cavern, and Suzanna watched in horror as chunks of rock fell from the roof, high above, and crashed into the city.

"What now?" she shouted to Naomee.

"Go after the daevas throwing bombs! Stop them!"

Oshrak howled some horrible battle cry, and raced ahead of them. She charged at the nearest daeva, and crashed into them with a metallic crunch. Suzanna saw her fall, struggling, with the daeva's blade trapped against her own.

"Eyes up, meldling!" Naomee called out.

She whipped her head up, and blocked the first swing of a daeva with a pair of swords by reflex. The second swing passed over her head as she dropped, spun her spear, and bashed them in the stomach with the butt; the daeva grunted, coughed up blood, and suddenly vanished. They had returned to Avarone.

Suzanna closed her eyes and breathed in and out, and tried to call on Sunekhar's tactical genius. When she opened them, she saw the battle again as it really was.

The Daeva-Ra were spread around the city, and seemed to be doing as much indiscriminate damage as possible. But a closer look at the swarming figures revealed that they clustered around the great columns, and especially the College. They were swept out of the air by the Council's magic, but every daeva that returned to Avarone was replaced by another that appeared as suddenly as they disappeared. This was not an invasion. They were trying to destroy Bastion, not conquer it.

"Naomee!" she shouted. "Naomee, they are trying to collapse the cavern!"

"I know!" Naomee sent another daeva hurtling down to the ground.

She was not helping. There had to be a way to stop them! Suzanna dived again, dodging away from two more attackers. They were certainly surprised to see a daemon fighting in Bastion, and they gave chase as she banked around a nearby stalactite.

Her mind worked furiously. They had come through the connection, Verom had said—the connection that Suzanna had made possible. This wasn't a planned attack; it was opportunistic, at best, and probably a response to Naomee's threats. They were here in the flesh and not in spirit. How had they done it? The Council didn't know everything about how to traverse the veil.

In the flesh... she had touched Maransa in Avarone!

Suzanna flipped herself over and caught both daevas with either end of her spear. She spun it with a grunt of effort, and threw them both at the ground as hard as possible. That was the connection. She knew, without really understanding why, that the daemonva needed an anchor of some kind to go to a specific place in the humanva realm. The Council's magic had given him the anchor through her, and he shared it with the others. If she found him and forced him to return to Avarone...

No. He would have to die, so that he could never again bring an army to Bastion.

She saw Oshrak rising into the air again, blood streaming from her sword. "Oshrak!" she shouted. "I need to find the daeva I touched in Avarone!"

The daemon commander heard her. She flew towards Suzanna, looking out for more enemies. "What's going on?" she called out.

"The Council sent me to Avarone after I met you! One of the devas touched me there, and I think that created an anchor to Bastion. They're getting through because of him! His name is Maransa! We must find him, or the Daeva-Ra will not stop coming!"

Oshrak stared at her in amazement. Then she vanished abruptly, just as the daevas had done, and Suzanna was left staring at the space she had occupied.

She had left them. All her cries of war were for nothing. Oshrak had returned to Halca.

Suzanna left Naomee behind, and flew up to the roof of the cavern. Despair seeped into her thoughts. There was no hope for the city if she could not find the daeva, but any hope she had of peace was gone. Oshrak had seemed so sincere, but who knew what the daemons would do now? If they survived, both sides of the war knew now that the humanva were a threat. They would find a way to attack again. She ranged across Bastion, looking out for Maransa. He would be here in person, and he would have guards.

She circled another stalactite, and saw a large floating island with a beautiful white tower. The daevas attacked it in force, throwing bomb after bomb, and the island's iridescent shield—brighter and more powerful than the others—rippled but did not break. There was a tiny figure standing on the steps of the tower, arms raised, and magical power streaming from their hands. That must be the Library, and Vaska protecting it. It was the largest island by far, and the only one with a building instead of gardens.

Suzanna caught a flash of gold and red, and she suddenly saw Maransa. He flew around the Library, gesturing left and right with his axe, with the same four daevas in his wake. She knew beyond a doubt that she could not face them all and hope to survive.

"FOR HALCA AND THE DAEMON-RA! CHARGE!"

Suzanna looked behind her, and gasped in shock. The air above Bastion exploded, and hundreds of daemon warriors blinked into being with Oshrak at their head. Whole battalions streamed into the city, and they crashed like a wave into the forces of the Daeva-Ra. She could only stare as massed melees broke out everywhere, with daemons and daevas leaping in and out of existence at random, and the ringing clash of weapons filled the air.

Oshrak was an anchor as well! She hadn't known until Suzanna had told her, and she had returned to Halca to bring back her army. Suzanna suddenly had a vision of the Plain of Lost Hope, and the desolation caused by the last pitched battle between the daemonva, and she paled in fear. This had to end, and soon, or Bastion would be destroyed twice over.

She saw Maransa join the fight with his retinue.

Suzanna flew to the top of the Library tower, and paused for a moment. She lost him for a moment, then saw him again, fighting off three daemons while his warriors held another ten at bay. Vaska, the Distant Fifth, was on her knees with the effort of holding up the shield, but the addition of the Daemon-Ra had slowed the daevas' attacks.

Oshrak appeared from nowhere, and struck at Maransa with her sword. The two clashed fiercely in the air, sparks arcing off their weapons, then Oshrak locked onto Maransa and drove him down towards the ground. That was her opening—Suzanna pulled in her wings and dove after them.

"Oshrak, hold him here!" she screamed. They both fell, faster and faster, with Suzanna desperately trying to catch up. She wheeled left and right, avoiding daevas and daemons struggling in combat. She had to get to Maransa before he could escape back to Avarone.

Not fast enough. Maransa kicked at the commander, and Suzanna saw a flash of black blood. Oshrak cried out, her sword falling out of her grasp, and she caught a glimpse of a torn wound in her wing before she blinked away back to Halca. Maransa held in the air, flicked the droplets of blood off his axe. It was all up to Suzanna now. She turned her spear to point at him, and aimed for his chest.

A dozen thoughts flashed through her mind. Lukas' smile. The knights riding out around her as they approached the Outpost. Alvan giving her the book. The way the maid had gasped when she saw her. The view from the Observatory. Naomee's laugh. Memories coalesced into a stream of feelings, moments, all fresh and bright and new, with echoes of what had gone before. Jaydanna's quiet walks in the gardens, reading a book of poetry. Sunekhar's exhilaration at a battle fought and won well, with her warriors cheering around her. Their strength and resolve bolstered her; Jaydanna and Sunekhar were not so different, in some ways. Suzanna was focused now, more than she had ever been since she had been born in the dungeon. She could do this—for the future of the daemonva, for the safety of Bastion, for the love of Lukas, and for herself, and the life she chose.

"MARANSA!" she shouted. He looked up at her and turned just as she struck him like an arrow from a bow, and she felt the point of the spear drive home. They tumbled over and over in the air, and she did not dare let go of her weapon as he roared and thrashed madly in an attempt to get away from her. She felt the veil open around them, and darkness swallowed them both.

## Chapter Thirty-Seven

### Maransa's Fate

Suzanna opened her eyes, and again she was nearly blinded by the whiteness. The air was bitterly cold, and in an instant it sunk into her limbs and left ice in her veins. She sat up.

She was in Avarone. The snow-covered plain stretched out in every direction, and the sky above was lit by starlight and one large, luminous moon. More than that, she was here in the flesh, not in spirit, and the realm felt inherently wrong. The earth beneath her feet felt hard, and unyielding. All she had was her red dress, and it was already soaked from the snow.

She looked around. Her spear lay in the snow beside her, and there was a single trail of pearly liquid leading away. She saw Maransa staggering off with blood pouring out of his shoulder from where he had pulled out the blade. It had passed clean through and impaled one of his wings.

Suzanna grabbed her spear and ran after him. He couldn't fly, and his axe was nowhere to be seen. "Maransa!" she called out.

He drew a short sword from a belt at his side, and turned to face her. She felt a swell of pity for him. It must have been difficult, hearing Naomee threaten Avarone, and it was no surprise that he would choose to launch an attack on Bastion.

She stayed on guard, but tried once again to appeal to him. "We can still stop this, Maransa! This doesn't have to end in either of our deaths, or that of the Daeva-Ra. You can still call them back, and make peace with Bastion."

"I will never... surrender," he said, his breath rattling in his throat. He lunged at her; she knocked the sword away with her spear and dodged out of his reach. "I recognize you now, daemon! You are the General, the one I fought and defeated! You fell out of the sky and disappeared! Where is your armor now?"

"I am not that daemon anymore. I told you, I was changed by human magic. The General you fought died months ago!"

Maransa stared at her, then began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, and grew into great peals of laughter, regardless of his injuries. "I searched for months!" he said. "I knew the daemon I faced then still lived, and I searched so that I could finish what I had started and guarantee the dominance of the Daeva-Ra. I watched every battle to see when you would return, and now I am told that it was all for nothing!"

He had led the party of daevas that had destroyed the sorcerer's tower. He had followed the knights across the Plain of Lost Hope. Suzanna shivered, and it wasn't due to the cold. They had almost caught up with her. How she had avoided his notice for so long in the dungeon, she had no idea.

"I am not her, Maransa," she said. "The General Sunekhar is gone," she said. "I am Suzanna, and I will end this war one way or another. It's up to you whether it will be with the destruction of Avarone or not."

"Avarone is eternal, daemon. The Daeva-Ra are pure, and we are the rightful heirs of all the realms. You daemons are our cast-offs! You are less than nothing! You are the twisted, darkened rejects who are not fit to walk the Endless Plains." He pointed his sword at her. "We are destined to rule, and we will claim our birthright someday even if we lose this battle!"

He lunged again, and this time Suzanna parried the blow on her spear-shaft. She caught his blade and twisted it out of his grip, and sent him crashing to the ground. "Forgive me," she whispered.

She spun the spear, and stabbed him through the heart.

The leaf-blade was magical, made as it was from Naomee's arcane power, and it cut through his armor cleanly. Maransa gave a short gurgle, and a gush of blood flowed freely from his mouth. His hands gripped the spear weakly for a moment, but the life soon faded from him, and he died gazing up at the stars.

Suzanna dropped to her knees beside him.

Bastion was safe. The daevas would return to Avarone, but they would not be able to get into Bastion without finding another anchor. The Daemon-Ra would drive the remnants of Maransa's forces away, and she had no doubt that the Council would be able to handle them if they decided not to leave as well after the battle was done. The daemonva would learn to live in peace.

Lukas was waiting for her.

She took Maransa's lifeless hand, and held it to her face. It should have been easy. It was a simple decision, one that any knight could have made easily. One life for many.

'Forgive me," she said again, and she was not sure who it was addressed to. This was a memory that she didn't want. The victory was hers, but at the cost of the knowledge of what she had to do. She would forgive herself in due time.

Faint lights appeared in the distance. The Daeva-Ra were on their way to find their lost regent. Suzanna stood up, and as she did so, the spear glowed with light and disappeared. She had to hope that that didn't mean Naomee had been hurt.

She took his sword. It was finely made, with delicate symbols representing power, honor, and strength. It was important to bring back something, in case another anchor was needed. But more than that, she needed to hold on to something of this moment, and someday, remember.

Suzanna thought of Lukas, and the study. She closed her eyes, let the veil open around her, and vanished.

## Chapter Thirty-Eight

### Epilogue

Six months after the Battle of Bastion, Suzanna stood by the railing in the College of the Sky, and watched a pair of daemons flying up to one of the hanging gardens.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she jumped in surprise. She turned to see Oshrak, carrying a book under her arm.

"Verom wants you in the next meeting," the former commander said. "I hope you're feeling up to listening to him drone on."

Suzanna smiled. "Always. Did he arrange everything at the Fifth Outpost for you?"

"He did. The fortifications on the surface are almost complete. The new battalion will move in next week, hopefully. You won't believe this, though. Apparently most of the daemons still in armor have joined a knightly House."

"Really? Which House accepted them? I thought they were still wary of the Daemon-Ra."

"None of them." Oshrak's glee was almost palpable. "They formed their own, and they're calling it the House of Halca. They all want to follow the code and become knights."

Suzanna stared out at the column again. "How fast some things change," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, and some other good news—apparently a daeva camp on the edge of the Plain raised a white flag. They want to surrender."

"Ah, that is good news!"

"The best I've had all day." Her grin couldn't grow any wider.

Suzanna returned to watching the daemonva making their ascent. "I'm surprised how quickly they've adapted," she said, pointing them out to her companion.

"Hah! It wasn't much of a choice, Suzanna. I'm surprised it took some of them so long to pick Bastion over another tour of service in the Outposts." Oshrak chuckled to herself. "Verom is too generous."

"They spent years fighting for Halca. Give them time, Oshrak," she chided her.

"They've had long enough to decide that a life of quiet study is better than living rough in Halca and constantly warring with the daevas."

"What of you, then? It's only been six months. You don't want to return to battle?"

Oshrak gave a short bark of laughter. "No! No, never again. I served long enough." She placed a hand on Suzanna's shoulder. "We won, my friend. They just haven't realized that they've lost yet. When the last of the Daeva-Ra finally see sense and give up, I will melt my sword down and make cutlery out of it."

They laughed together. Suzanna left her at the railing, and walked back to the Council study to see Verom.

She found him and Naomee in deep discussion with Arkiss. The Distant Seventh was gesturing at a chart filled with symbols and lines; all of it was incomprehensible to her. She waited politely for a moment, then cleared her throat.

"Ah—Suzanna, good. Thank you, Arkiss."

The Seventh nodded at her, and left with his charts and papers. Verom led her over to the couches and chairs, and they all sat down.

"We still search for the sorcerer," Naomee said, her eyes gleaming. "He survived the attack on his tower, oh yes. He will be brought to justice."

Suzanna stared down at her hands for a moment. The thought of facing him again sent chills down her spine. "Is he still dangerous?" she asked.

"We don't yet know. He has had more than six months to rebuild, and his magic is formidable. In any case, he must answer for his crimes against Jaydanna and the daemon Sunekhar." Verom shook his head. "He knows me too well. He can hide from me, and, while he is hidden, he can capture more innocent people and create more meldlings which may not be as stable as you."

"What is an unstable meldling?" she asked.

Verom glanced at Naomee. "They can be many things. But usually... they are mad. Dariem didn't create many before he was exiled, but the few that we uncovered were delusional. Their memories drove them insane. Those were only humanva meldlings as well—imagine a daemon, with your strength and regeneration, but twisted by the soul of a human mage. I cannot think of how much damage one could do."

Suzanna closed her eyes, and tried not to think too hard about such a creature. She had accepted her life and sense of self as a meldling, but it was hard to know that, as shattered as she had been, she was one of the lucky ones. "What do you need me to do?"

"Nothing, yet. Naomee is going to work on a method of tracking him down. When she is ready, then..."

Naomee nodded at her. "Then you'll be the bait, and the beacon. You're a rare kind, Suzanna. When the time comes, we'll make sure he knows that you exist. He'll want to see you, no matter what we'll have lying in wait for him. The only question is whether you're willing to do it."

She said nothing for a moment. The memories of the dungeon again threatened to swallow her whole. She was getting better at thinking about it, however. "He doesn't know about me," she said finally. "I think he believed I was a failure."

"All the more reason for him to come and see," said Verom. "Think on it a while. We have other matters to attend to for now."

She nodded, and left them there.

Bastion had become her home, and leaving it behind again would be difficult. The humanva were just getting used to seeing daemons around the College of the Sky, now, and she felt comfortable walking around its gardens without drawing too many strange looks. Outside of Bastion, old hatreds died hard.

But the life she had been given was a good one. She had come a long way since the sorcerer had created her. She had gained much—maybe not enough to balance out what had been lost, but enough.

It was enough.

"Suzanna!"

She turned, and saw Lukas waving at her. Suzanna smiled happily. Maybe tomorrow she would have to make another hard decision. Maybe something more would happen that would force her into events beyond her control again. Maybe the world would turn itself upside down. But not today, and not in this moment.

The future could take care of itself, for now.

## NEXT IN THE SERIES

### The Nameless Knight  
Second Novel of the Daemonva

THE NAMELESS KNIGHT continues the story of Suzanna and her companions, as they battle the evil sorcerer Dariem and try to prevent another war between humanva and daemonva.

The forces of the Daeva-Ra have been routed, and the daemons of Halca have become a part of the underground city of Bastion. For many war-weary humanva and daemonva, the future is bright and happy.

But for the meldling Suzanna, there can be no peace.

The sorcerer Dariem still works his evil magic, and scores of unstable meldlings are appearing all across the humanva realm. These twisted, violent creatures, created from a fusion gone wrong of a daemon or daeva with a human, attack with suicidal fury and kill everything in their path.

It falls to her to stop him before his deranged army destroys the fragile peace between the survivors of the daemonva war. But the only clues to his whereabouts lie in the fragmented mind of a daeva meldling, wearing the armor of a knight.

Suzanna must follow the trail to Dariem wherever it leads. The nameless knight will show her the way - but only if he doesn't become an unstable beast first.

Find out more on my website.

## ABOUT THE AUTHOR

### Claire Ryan

Claire Ryan is an author who writes fantasy adventure, steampunk, sci-fi, genre, and anything else weird. She lives Vancouver BC, along with her husband and kids.

Web programmer by day.

Occasional maker of crafty stuff.

Book-binder.

Longsword fighter.

Check out www.claireryanauthor.com for more info.
