 
# Dragon Dreams

### The Chronicles of Shadow and Light

## Dusty Lynn Holloway

## Illustrated by Cheri Schmidt
Copyright © 2018 by Dusty Lynn Holloway

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is dedicated to all those who refuse to give up; those who keep striving and keep trying long after they thought they couldn't take another step. This one's for you.

# Also by Dusty Lynn Holloway:

Dragon Ties

Dragon Light

Dragon Soul

### Contents

Also by Dusty Lynn Holloway:

Prologue

1. Aware

2. The Map

3. Du`lna Forest

4. The Cost

5. Need

6. Silence

7. Found

8. The Gates of Bremgar

9. Bremgar

10. Unexpected

11. Stowaways

12. Driven

13. Defense of the Isle

14. Shrouded

15. Heartache

16. Vi`dal

17. El`dell

18. No Going Back

19. Sickness

20. Friendship

21. Lifeline

22. Ominous

23. Deeper

24. Jenna

25. All Good Things

26. Dragon's Blood

27. Sacrifice

About the Author

Afterword

1. Loss

2. Shifted

# Prologue

In my shadow you sleep, hungry for my soul. In my heart you live, nurtured and at peace. In my life you belong, always.

The red dawn of war clashes with the tide. Black descends. Shadows come alive.

I call to you. I see you across the field of battle, calling to me. So many stand between us.

I turn away to the tide; the tide sweeps forward, surging, billowing, covering.

I raise my hand and stare at the sky above. Silence descends. A hush. Tears fall down. Liquid, they fall down my face, down my grimy cheeks, onto my bloodstained clothes.

I raise my other hand. A burst of time shoots forward, galloping like my heart as I wait for the final blow . . . but it never comes. I've frozen the moment in time as the blade meant for my heart pierces his.

The sobs choke my chest as I stare at the metal, gleaming red like the rising sun, sticking from his chest. His eyes are frozen as well, locked onto mine. They look unsurprised. I sink down to my knees; tears fall harder.

I hear your voice. A shout, a scream of pain and anger and despair and fear from across the field. I don't turn. I look straight ahead to the eyes that are locked onto mine as I bring both of my hands down in a gesture as sharp as the blade. Light explodes outward from me, shooting across the battlefield, consuming everything.

I fall. He falls too. His eyes speak the things he cannot say. They close after a minute, but mine stay open.

You reach me then. Everyone else is flattened, reeling on the blood-soaked earth, but you reach me. You turn me face up. You gather me in your arms. You weep, but my eyes are dry now. My eyes are dry. "It will be alright," I whisper to you. "It will be alright."

## 1

# Aware

He woke up screaming at the top of his lungs, like a clarion call to the rising dawn. His breath was gasping in his tight chest as though he had just been running for miles and miles. He couldn't make it slow down. He closed his eyes to concentrate. _Slow. Slow. Breathe slowly. In_. _Out. Slow_. The images from the dream splashed across the forefront of his mind, worming their way through the barricades.

Tears leaked down his face and into his matted dark hair. He brought a shaking hand up to his head and groaned deeply.

_Go_ _away. Please . . . just go away_.

Sweat and tears mingled.

He was tired, more tired than he had ever been in his whole life. Night after night he dreamed of her. Night after night after endless night. He tried to work himself into a numb stupor, putting a hazy wall of weariness between himself and the rest of the world—battle preparations for the coming war with Obsidian—but it didn't work. Because no matter how much or how long he pushed his body, his mind was slowly caving in on itself.

The dreams returned no matter what he did.

He tried _not_ sleeping. Simply going for days on end with no sleep. But he paid for it. The dream, when he finally slumped over in complete exhaustion, was even worse. This was the result.

The part that hurt—that made it more than just a battle, just a faceless person dying—was that . . . he felt like he knew her, this elf named Auri. He felt as though she was a part of him, in a way that he didn't understand. He understood what made her run in the dream, not _from_ but _to_ something. He understood what made her fight, what made her cry, what made her tremble. He saw so many things in her that he wished he saw in himself when he looked in the mirror.

He had been taught from the time that he could toddle that war was imminent, and that he would be needed to lead in that battle. In other words, he had been taught to be strong. But Auri was stronger. Stronger _inside_.

His breath was still loud, but his heart had slowed a little. The tears continued to dribble down the sides of his temples, into his hair, and onto the white, linen sheets. He couldn't stand this anymore. He feared that he was going mad. What else was it when you dreamed of death every night? When you dreamed of your own death, and the death of someone you knew and cared deeply for . . . but had never seen in the course of your life?

A hand came softly down onto his shoulder, and he reacted instinctively. Steel met steel faster than he could swing his eyes up to his attacker, and then his knife clattered to the wooden floor as the face before him registered. Cerralys. He had almost killed the king.

He didn't speak, but held his head in his hands again, trembling madly. He had almost killed the king. . . It ran through his brain again in one long, numb, garbled thought, echoing and echoing. He had almost killed his father.

The bed sunk down as Cerralys sat next to him. "Nachal," he said carefully, as though speaking with one who was about to throw himself off of a ledge, "I am well. Be not troubled."

Nachal gave a sharp bark of manic laughter. "I almost killed you," he whispered hoarsely, his throat raspy from screaming.

He heard the smile in the king's voice, though he didn't look up to see it for himself. "Then it is fortunate that I had my blade handy."

Nachal laughed again. It came out sounding like it was half sob.

Warm hands came down upon his shoulders. "You are not going mad, little one."

He looked up, fisting the tears from his eyes. The old one's eyes were that unearthly, piercing, deep blue that he had grown so used to over the years. They were completely unique, those eyes, and they always saw to the depths of him, to the depths of anyone. He saw understanding in them, sorrow, love . . . and fear.

"Then why are you afraid?" he asked in a small voice. Cerralys seemed never to fear anything. He had lived so long, seen so much. Today was the first day that he had seen that particular emotion, and it rattled him worse than the dream. He felt like the ground beneath him was suddenly unstable.

The king didn't answer. He moved to stand before the now cold hearth, while Nachal shivered on the bed watching his movements like a hawk. The old one got the fire blazing within moments.

"What do you fear?" he demanded again in a hoarse whisper, hiding his shaking hands within the folds of the blanket. He clenched them as he waited.

"I fear losing my son," the old one finally whispered.

Nachal closed his eyes. The muscles just did it on their own, he didn't control them. He couldn't look at the king in front of him now without wanting to weep again.

And he was tired of crying.

"You will lose me eventually. I am human, you are dragon-kind. Our life-spans are vastly different."

The room became still. Quiet. It was the quiet before the dawn. Before everything awoke. Before the light came. It was an unnatural quiet.

"Yes," was his only reply.

Nachal sighed. Dragons seemed to have that ability, almost as though nature reacted to them. That was, unfortunately, part of the problem.

He groaned as he stood up. The room tilted crazily for a minute and then righted itself. He shuffled slowly over to the dolphin faucet and pumped the cold water into the blue basin beneath. When he finished bathing the sweat from his bare chest and face, he shuffled tiredly over to the mahogany wardrobe and began rummaging for a clean pair of pants and shirt.

He couldn't find any. He didn't like anyone but Cerralys in his room, and he had been so desperately busy lately that he hadn't had time to take his dirty clothes downstairs to the laundering rooms. He grabbed something off the floor, smelled it then shrugged and pulled it on. Pants went on first then his shirt, socks, and boots. When he was finished, he turned to the king again. He hadn't moved. He was still staring deeply into the flickering flames.

They stood like that for a minute, he staring at the king's back and the king staring straight through the hearth to the depths of his thoughts.

"I do not know who she is, this elf that you dream of, but I know that she needs you, Nachal. You cannot just push this away." His voice sounded as tired as Nachal's body felt.

"They're just dreams. They'll go away eventually."

Quiet again for the span of a few beats of his heart. "I did not raise you to be that ignorant of your own feelings. She is real, little one."

"Send one of the Luminari to her then. If she is in some kind of trouble a dragon would be a better protector."

"She needs _you_."

"Why?" His voice had grown hoarse again. Inside he was shaking. Scared.

"I don't know." Whisper soft, anguished.

Nachal closed the distance between them. "Can you tell me what you _do_ know?" he asked quietly. He had never seen Cerralys like this. It was deeply disturbing.

"I know that she is vital. To you, to me, to Terradin, to the war. . . And in a very personal way. It's almost as though she _is_ Terradin."

"That's—" Nachal started to say that was impossible then closed his mouth abruptly. _Was_ it impossible? He sighed. Probably not. "Anything else?"

Another long span of silence. "It is not knowledge, more of a . . . feeling."

In a way, that was almost worse because, while knowledge was often right—if gathered correctly and used wisely—the intuition of the Dragon-King Cerralys was legendary, as was his strength and wisdom. Which was part of the reason why Nachal was still shaking inside.

"Please," he whispered through suddenly numb lips.

Another span. This one longer. The quiet became a thing in and of itself. Nature paused, held its breath.

"You will die for her."

Nachal sighed. "I know," he said wearily.

He turned around to look for his bag.

When he found it, he turned back toward the balcony. The king stood there, long, white hair blowing in the breeze, stance strong and unyielding. He was in his shifted form now—that of an elf. Dragon-kind, after many years' study, learned the ability to change to one other form. Only one. For it became as much a part of the makeup of their being as their dragon half.

Most dragons chose an elven shifted form because they naturally shared many of the same characteristics: great strength, agility, long lifespans, and an equally strong tie with nature, although in very different ways. The earth itself seemed to react to the dragons—especially the powerful ones like Cerralys. But the elves? The elves called upon nature, and nature answered.

The dawn was just beginning as he came to stand beside the king. They watched The Hall slowly come to life below them. Soldiers began training in the bailey below, waiting for the king to come. The king's men loved him. Everyone did. Including the little fosterling that he had taken in twenty years before.

The ocean was just below them. The Hall stood at the top of a cliff overlooking the Eldrian Sea to his left and the Du`lna Forest to his right. From his balcony he could see for miles. Endless blue and endless green.

He thought of Auri dying as he stood there, and his soul shuddered.

"You've been alive for so long, lived through so much, lost so many. Does it ever get any easier losing those that you love, outliving everyone?"

The waves pulsed forth upon the beach below, suddenly without sound. A gull flew over them, opening its mouth wide as though screeching loudly, but no sound issued forth. Nachal turned red, gritty eyes to the cause. Cerralys's eyes were glowing. Twin beams of pure light. Tears shimmered. "No," came the soft voice. "It never gets easier."

"I thought time healed all wounds," Nachal murmured as he rubbed his cheek dry.

Cerralys gave a wry, strangled laugh. "No," he said. "It doesn't."

They watched the pink streaks of light burn through the shimmering pale blue of the sky.

Sound returned slowly, softly.

Dawn: The beginning.

## 2

# The Map

Cerralys left him to go down and train the men while he was left staring absently at the disaster that was his room. He had treatises on every subject scattered around the various surfaces of his room: foreign affairs, geography, writing, arithmetic, several different branches of science, and all of them had copious notes and sheathes of paper scattered around and within them. He sighed as he shifted massive amounts of papers around to get to his trunks underneath.

Every other spare space that wasn't taken up by books was taken up by piles of clothes. He hadn't done laundry in so many months that he'd lost count. Everything he owned was dirty. Not just a little dirty, but dirty caked-on-mud dirty. He slid some of the filthy clothes over and started piling supplies into his bag. The last things that he grabbed were his bow, his quiver of dragon-steel arrows, and his sword. He held the sword gently for a moment, running his index finger down the hilt. This sword represented so many things to him: sacrifice, discipline, love. . . It was given to him by the only dragon sword master in existence: Cerralys.

The term master—in the dragon world—was a title given to a dragon that had reached an unparalleled skill level in one of the five different studies. They had a master for flight, combat, stealth, healing, and transformation or essence changing. These masters were scattered throughout the lands of Terradin, and each school was in a remote location because if Obsidian could track down the schools and their masters, he would level them.

He tied his bag and stood. Obsidian would level Auri too if he didn't hurry. He slung his bow and quiver of arrows across his back, slid his sword into the custom made scabbard that crossed the bow over his back, and left his chamber without a backward glance.

His feet moved unconsciously down the many stairs and corridors to the bailey, leaving his mind free to wander. Ahead, to what he was doing. Within, to what he was feeling. The answer to both was that he didn't know. He didn't know what he was doing, and he certainly didn't understand _any_ of what he was feeling.

He quickly walked through the Great Hall, and paused just outside to open another door to his left. This door was set far back into a hidden recess. It led down a darkened, seldom used stairwell, and finally emptied out into the central bailey: The Hall's training grounds.

When he reached the bottom, he tugged open the door and immediately raised his hand to protect his eyes as the glare from the sun hit him full in the face. He took a few steps into the bailey and looked around. It looked as though Cerralys had finished training the soldiers—they were stationed at different places on the upper parts of The Hall—and now he had moved on to training his students. His youngest student was currently in the inner circle with him.

Stephen was slight of build with a wiry frame, dark auburn hair, and large green eyes. From the very first day that the king had allowed Stephen a place in the school there had been a special bond between them. The king saw something different in the boy . . . something that the others couldn't see.

They stood close, within a few feet of each other. The king came at Stephen with exaggerated slowness, emphasizing each point of attack and moving the boy's sword in the correct position when he failed to get it there himself. Nachal watched the scene play out for several minutes in silence—no one had noticed his entrance into the bailey—before he quietly dropped his bag at his feet, stealthily crept up behind two unfamiliar men standing in formation around the circle, and unabashedly eavesdropped on their whispered conversation. Anger flared instantly.

"Don't know why the king even tries with this one," the dark-haired one whispered, keeping his eyes on what was happening in the inner circle. "The child is pathetic. Even from here I can see him trembling."

The other nodded then laughed as Stephen fumbled with his sword in the middle of the ring. It fell with a dull thunk to the ground.

Nachal didn't stop to think it through, he just grabbed and yanked. They both flew backward, landing on the dusty, hard-packed dirt of the bailey. He moved to stand over them as they blindly sputtered, their heads swiveling upward to see the face of their assailant. When they saw him, they both went completely still.

He crouched next to them so no one else would hear. "You show everyone respect here," he said quietly, ice dripping from his words. "If you cannot do that, you will _leave_." His eyes burned into theirs for a long moment. His voice dipped even lower. "Am I understood?"

They both nodded, nearly simultaneously. He searched their faces to make sure they understood before he reached down with a hand held out for each. After he yanked them both to their feet, he strode purposefully away. He could feel their wary eyes tracking him as he made his way to the circle's threshold.

An older man who had been standing next to the two waited until Nachal drew level with him and then whispered, "They're human and new."

"That explains a bit," Nachal said with a half-smile, watching the action in the middle of the circle. Humans _never_ knew how to take him. With dragons it seemed to be instinctive. Maybe it came with experience. . . "How are you, Glines?"

Glines—a dragon who looked older than the dirt that he stood on—smiled. "Feeling spry."

Nachal chuckled as he slapped him lightly on the back. "Hold on to that feeling," he said dryly. He pushed past the ring's threshold and into the inner circle.

"Think I'll take a turn in the ring."

"This should be interesting," Glines muttered behind him.

Cerralys quit talking as soon as Nachal drew close enough to make out what he was saying to Stephen. He looked up, bringing his palms down to rest on the pommel of the sword that he had stabbed into the dirt.

"Shouldn't you be packing?" he asked in mild amusement.

Nachal laughed. "Already done. Kick my laundry down the stairs to the laundering rooms while I'm gone, would you? It's starting to smell in there."

Cerralys grimaced. "I don't know which part of that statement is the more pitiful, the fact that you asked me to do something that you are more than capable of doing yourself or that you are only just beginning to realize the absolute stench that wafts from your bedchamber and oozes down my stairs."

Nachal flipped Stephen's sword up from the ground with his foot. It landed in his palm dead-center. "I've been busy. I hadn't noticed."

"You must have been extremely busy then," Cerralys said dryly.

Nachal nodded absently then handed the boy's sword back to him. "Rule number one," he said, "don't let anyone intimidate you, not even the king."

" _Especially_ the king," Cerralys added in an undertone.

He drew his own sword and faced off with Cerralys, his dark eyebrows inching up toward the hair that kept falling in his face as he smiled grimly. "How about we prove to him how unintimidated we are, Stephen?"

Stephen looked as if he didn't quite agree about the unintimidated part. "You haven't trained with me yet, have you?"

Stephen shook his head.

"Now's a good time."

Stephen sighed. "If you say so, sir." He held his sword carefully in a grip that was too tight, obviously trying not to drop it again.

"Loosen up your grip," Nachal advised. "That's it, just like that. Now stand like this." He gently nudged him into the ready position. "It's important to keep your sword in this position. Too high up and you can't protect your body in time; too far down and you can't protect your face and neck." Stephen nodded, concentrating intently on keeping his sword in the right position.

"When I tell you _now_ , lunge in and try to score a hit."

"But he's the king," Stephen whispered miserably.

"Not right now he's not," Nachal said grimly, turning to face Cerralys again. "Right now he's your sword master."

He attacked swiftly and without warning, fighting with burning intensity from the first clash of swords. All of his frustrations, his pent up anger, his sadness and despair, he un-caged them all from within his heart and mind and gave them voice with his sword. The whole bailey went completely silent. It was a stillness that even _he_ could feel.

He darted backward just in time—a narrow miss—and then darted back in again for another volley of blows. But each one Cerralys defended against with adder-like quickness. He was too fast for him. He was _always_ too fast for him.

The longer he fought the harder it became to breathe. He started dragging great gulps of air into his lungs, trying to get enough to stay firmly on his feet. The sweltering air was thick and hot. Sweat beaded across his forehead, running into his eyes and making them sting.

Fatigue suddenly slammed into him. He staggered and narrowly avoided Cerralys's blade as it whistled through the air, sweeping toward the pulse that thrummed hard in his neck. It was then that he realized he should really try to sleep more.

He parried the blow clumsily, staggering again as the swords collided. It took all of his concentration just to avoid getting skewered. Cerralys was a master, and right now he felt every inch the bumbling student.

The air hissing into his lungs burned more fiercely now. Each blow rang through his entire body, resonating with every single bone. He feinted left, circled, feinted right, circled, lunged, parried, retreated a step, lunged again and then started to pound like mad on the answering steel, managing to force Cerralys back a single step. "Now!" he shouted hoarsely to Stephen.

Several things happed then, nearly simultaneously. Cerralys looked at Nachal and then dropped his sword until it was point first in the dirt, leaving him completely defenseless. Stephen lunged. Nachal watched the utter peace envelop Cerralys's expression before he panicked and lunged too, only a split second after Stephen. His heavier momentum and absolute terror got him there first. Their blades met with a sickening sound of screeching steel, less than an inch from Cerralys's chest.

Stephen fell to the ground, dropping his sword, while Nachal's numb fingers dropped his own. "What," he asked with his hands on his knees, panting heavily, "was _that_?"

"Training."

"Suicide," Nachal breathed.

"Training."

Their eyes locked. Nachal sighed as he slowly straightened. "Training for whom?"

Cerralys's lips twitched. "For Stephen, of course."

"Humph," Nachal grunted. Then he looked around and laughed. "I think we drove off the rest of your students, old one."

Cerralys ignored him and helped Stephen up off the ground, dusting him off a little. Stephen was staring at the king with wide eyes that weren't blinking. "I almost killed you!" he whispered in horror. "I almost killed the King of the Dragons!"

Nachal winced, remembering that he had said nearly those exact words only a few hours ago. Cerralys looked at him with laughter dancing in his eyes before he turned back to the pale, shaking boy. "It seems to be my day for such experiences."

"Not even funny," Nachal growled at him.

Stephen just shook his head, still in shock. He was trembling visibly from head to foot. Cerralys put a warm hand on his shoulder. His smile was very gentle. "Never enter Nachal's room unannounced, Stephen. He's very ill-tempered in the mornings." Stephen's wide eyed gaze swung to Nachal—giving him the sort of look a baked lobster might give the person dining on it, were it alive—and Nachal felt a smile hover on his lips.

"I hadn't eaten yet," he said dismissively.

Cerralys laughed. He turned to Stephen again. "You did well today," he said. "Can I share with you a few things that might help?"

Stephen nodded slowly. His face was gradually regaining color again.

"The taunts of others may hurt, but only _you_ can choose how deep the hurt goes. If you let it undermine your confidence in yourself, you have let them win and let yourself down in the process." He placed both hands on the boy's shoulders now and stared intently into his face.

"It takes courage to move forward, when all you want to do is turn back. I'm not merely speaking of battles either. True courage comes minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day. It is not in the battle that it is found, but in life. And when the time comes when a vitally important choice must be made, you will find the courage you need to make it already there. Because in the smaller moments of your life you moved forward instead of turning back."

Stephen's wide, green eyes looked at Cerralys as though spellbound. A long moment passed and then the king suddenly smiled at him, breaking the spell, and pushed him gently away. "Go. Break your fast. Get a drink and rest."

Stephen nodded. "Yes, sire." He looked down at the sword he had just picked up and then over at Nachal. "I think you'd probably l-l-like your own sword back, Prince Nachal," he stuttered. "It's m-m-much nicer than mine."

Nachal winced at the title. "Just Nachal." He smiled to soften the request. "And, yes, I'd like it back." He turned amused eyes toward Cerralys but kept talking to Stephen in a voice that was completely casual. "It's an ugly sword isn't it? It was a gift for my tenth birthday from the king."

"It's n-not ugly, sir," Stephen protested. "It's the best sword I've ever seen!"

Cerralys scowled at Nachal as he accepted the sword and put it away. Nachal grinned wickedly back at him, his eyes glittering vindictively.

"Just training for Stephen, huh?"

"Of course."

Stephen had had enough. He walked away from them in disgust, shaking his head in absolute confusion.

Cerralys watched him walk away with fondness in his eyes then he turned and gestured to the bag on the ground. "Leaving now?"

"Yes. I came to say goodbye."

"There's something I think you should have first," Cerralys said, turning toward The Hall. "It's in the library."

Nachal nodded and followed the king in speculative silence.

When they reached the main entrance hall, they both turned right. Along the right hand wall, to the right of the main set of stairs, was the entrance to the king's study. They entered the room and Nachal shut the door behind him.

The term study was really a misnomer. It was actually an annex of the library that was housed through another door on the far wall. The library itself was an immense room that spanned two full floors in height and was lined from floor to ceiling with the same dark mahogany bookshelves that lined the study. Each of the hundreds of shelves within was covered with literally thousands upon thousands of books.

Cerralys walked through the first door, past the second, and into the vast caverns of the main floor of the library. Large desks were scattered all over as well as chairs of every size and shape. All of them were extremely comfortable. He knew this for a fact because, when he was small, he decided that he wanted to try each and every one of them. It had taken him almost a full day. The one he had finally decided was just right was on the upper levels. A stuffed blue one, sitting in front of a cozy hearth. That spot was still one of his favorites.

He looked around at the library as they walked through. People were milling about, plucking large and small tomes from the shelves, leafing through them, and carrying them to their tables.

Cerralys made his way up the circular staircase without glancing at anyone else. The staircase took them to the library's second floor landing. Up still yet another circular staircase, this one smaller, and they arrived at the upper stacks of the northernmost shelves. The king quickly pulled a book down, seemingly at random, and pulled a thick, yellowed piece of parchment out. He handed it to Nachal without looking at it then made his way quickly back down the double stairs to the privacy of his study.

Nachal found his chair in the study and sat down. His gaze kept straying to the paper that he was carrying. It was old, he noticed, and folded crisply in half. The crease was sharp from the compression of the book that it had rested in.

"Open it," Cerralys ordered quietly. He went to stand in front of the window and looked out absently at the courtyard below. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back.

Nachal unfolded the paper carefully and felt his breath catch. "A map to El`ness Nahrral," he whispered in wonder. Every detail was exquisitely and painstakingly crafted. He had never seen another map to equal it, and he had certainly never seen another map to El`ness Nahrral. He tore his eyes away from the intricate details of the impossible map that he held in his hands and looked up at the king. "There are no maps to the elven isle. Anywhere. Where did you find this?" His tone was almost accusatory. How could he have had a map like this—a map to Auri—and never told him about it?

"I made it," Cerralys whispered.

That was not the response Nachal had been expecting. He blinked. "You _made_ it?" he asked incredulously. "How?"

Cerralys smiled slightly. "The usual way I suppose, with ink and parchment."

Nachal scowled at him. "How did you know the location?"

"I made it from memory, little one."

He sat back in his chair, stunned, the paper in his hands forgotten for the moment. Cerralys had made it from memory? He shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand," he finally said. "How could you make it from memory?"

"After the war," Cerralys said quietly, "I found myself there." He smiled softly and shook his head. "I was out of my mind. It was like the isle drew me to it so that it might heal me. I did heal, Nachal, but it wasn't the isle, it was an elf. Her name was Jenna," he whispered as he looked away. After a long moment he began speaking again. "We eventually decided to leave the isle and come to the mainland. Between one shore and the next she was gone. Our ship was attacked. I was the only survivor.

"Before I left the isle, I promised the queen that I would never reveal its location. But I cannot keep that promise anymore." He looked down for a moment, lost in thought. "I know that you don't understand, but believe me when I tell you that I do this only because I must. A sacred trust is something that should never easily be broken."

He finally turned to face Nachal fully. His eyes were deeply troubled. "Without the map, you will not be able to find the elf, and you _need_ to find her. Bring her here to me when you have. I need to speak with her."

"What should I tell her?"

"The truth," Cerralys smiled slightly. "That her king wishes to meet with her."

Nachal shook his head, smiling too. "She already has a king. She doesn't need another."

The king chuckled and looked out the window again. "You'll figure something out," he said. "You always do."

He nodded. He would have to. He looked down at the map in his hands and folded it carefully. He wrapped it in the oilskin from his bag and tried to put it in there gently, but then pulled it back out, shaking his head. The oilskin wouldn't protect it sufficiently. He needed something sturdier. He looked around the room to the numerous bookshelves. "Can I borrow a book?" he asked, getting up to look for one that would fit.

Cerralys crossed to a shelf and tossed him a tome the size of the Eldrian Sea. He grunted as he caught its hefty weight. "I was hoping for something more compact," he said dryly. He set the heavy tome down and picked up a smaller one. Then he folded the oilskin and map carefully within its pages and put it gently into his pack. That would have to work.

He put his bag back down by his feet then glanced up at the sudden quiet of the room. Cerralys was looking at him intently. His eyes were deep with hidden emotion. "Be safe, little one," the king whispered.

"Of course. That goes without saying."

Cerralys shook his head. "It's not a matter for jest, Nachal. Obsidian is gathering an army. Stay out of his way. Find her, but stay hidden."

"I intend to," Nachal said solemnly, all traces of levity gone.

"One other thing," Cerralys moved to sit in the chair opposite Nachal's. "El`ness Nahrral is only approachable by air or ship. Since you will not be traveling with a dragon, you will need to take a vessel." His eyes suddenly took on a mischievous glint. "Take my advice. Make sure that you have a full elf on board as you make the final approach to the isle."

Nachal laughed. "How exactly?"

The king smiled a secret smile. "Trust me."

Nachal shook his head and stood, grabbing his bag. "I have no idea how I'll manage that. All the full elves are on the isle."

"You'll manage."

The room went quiet as they looked at each other. This was goodbye. "I'll see you soon," Nachal said gruffly.

Cerralys nodded. "Soon," he echoed. Cerralys listened in complete silence as Nachal's footsteps finally faded away then he looked down at his hands. They were clenched, and his knuckles were bone-white.

## 3

# Du`lna Forest

Nachal found Stephen waiting for him at the portcullis. "You can't come with me," he said without preamble.

"I wasn't going to ask to come with you."

"What then?"

"I just—" he looked down, avoiding Nachal's gaze for a moment "—I just wanted you to know that I'll look after him for you. The king I mean." He looked up. His face was flushed with embarrassment, but his eyes were bright with fierce resolve.

Nachal smiled softly. "Then I leave in peace. Thank you, Stephen."

The boy nodded then stepped back as the portcullis was raised. When Nachal went through, he turned back, gazing at Stephen for a long moment in silence. "I've never heard him speak to anyone as he spoke to you this morning," he said quietly. "He believes in you, Stephen. Take it from someone who knows." He turned back around and started down the path. "Because, for some reason, he believes in me too."

He hiked hard and made it down the steep decline of the cliff in less than an hour. He eyed the clouds gathering swiftly above. A storm was gathering. Darkness was permeating everything, covering the land in sweeping shadows where very little light pierced through.

He made it to the cover of the Du`lna forest before the light was completely gone and entered its enchanting presence with a released breath.

These trees were his friends. He had often played here as a boy, pretending he was a knight of valor on a mission of mercy for some poor, benighted soul. He chuckled as he remembered. Many fond memories of his boyhood were in these trees, almost more memories than at The Hall itself.

Here in these trees he was free from the prying eyes of those who trained with Cerralys. He was free from the speculation of his origins and free from the expectations of his position. He was free to be anyone he wished.

He never wished to be someone different than who he was though. That would have been something that he would never have thought about. He liked who he was, was grateful for where he grew up. He grew up a boy among dragons. A child—a human child—among the Dragons of Light.

But because he had been raised among the Dragons of Light, he had—maybe more than any other human—seen the cost of darkness. Cerralys had suffered much because of his brother. He and the Luminari were unable to destroy Obsidian and those that fought with him. It was a war that none could win. They were evenly matched, nearly split down the middle, and equal in power. For every one that fell from among Obsidian's ranks another fell from the side of the Dragons of Light. The casualties had become too heavy for them to continue without wiping out their species completely, and both sides became locked in a precarious stalemate.

Intelligence kept coming in daily from the Luminari's network of spies. The human towns and villages were being attacked; men were being dragged from their homes; women and children were being killed.

It made him sick to his stomach. A roiling, twisting feeling clawed its way inside of him the more he thought about it, and the more he thought about what he might face on his way to El`ness Nahrral.

He camped beneath the thick forest that night, rolling his bed out and lying down with a sigh. The constant drip of the rain on the canopy above was a soothing sound. He folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the dense green above him. His mind kept turning in circles.

He thought of Cerralys and The Hall, now behind him half a day's journey. He thought of the war and the reasons for it. He thought of Obsidian. He thought of the Luminari. He thought of his future. He thought of Auri.

His stomach clenched, and the dream—only one dream, over and over—hit him suddenly like a sheet of ice in his chest. He brought his hands to his chest and twisted to huddle on his side, gasping. Within seconds his skin was cold and clammy.

Tears leaked from the sides of his eyes. He ignored them and got up shakily to gather wood. All of it was dry; the dense canopy of trees above him let in no rain from above. He made a roaring fire from the flint and stone in his bag and sat down numbly in front of it, one hand still absently clutching his chest, rubbing it.

He had wanted no part of this at first, but the dreams were relentless. They came night after night. Always the same. Never changing. In the dream he felt so powerless . . . so powerless to save her, to stop her, to prevent what he knew was coming. He _hated_ feeling powerless.

In the dream he was always with her, sharing her mind and body. Sharing her thoughts and fears. To be within a person's mind, to feel the feelings and emotions that they felt. . . It was an intimacy that he had never experienced before.

And the more he dreamed of her the clearer she became.

She was pure. She fought only to save. She ran because she was brave. She ran because she loved. It was easy to see those things inside of her, night after night in his dreams; it was easy for him to love her.

He felt so tired, so old, so weary from all of this, and he feared that he would be too late anyway.

Obsidian wanted Auri, wanted her badly. He wanted her so much that he had come out of hiding to begin amassing a human army. Whatever his hatred toward her—it was personal.

Nachal scooted closer to the fire, trying to absorb its warmth and banish the coldness inside of him. His skin glowed with the flickering orange of the flames. He stared at the flickers against his pale skin as he struggled to make sense of everything.

There was so much that he didn't understand about this situation. In fact, it was easier for him to categorize the things that he _did_ know.

He knew for sure that she was elven-kind. In the dreams, she moved with a speed unlike any human. She was _fast_. The fastest he had ever seen. And because in the dream he saw from her eyes and heard from her ears, it was easy for him to recognize the superiority of both of those over his own.

She was elven-kind, and she was about to die.

He wondered if she suspected it. Or was she blithely going on her way, never knowing what was coming for her? He wondered also where she was on the isle, for surely that was the only place where she could be.

There were no elven-kind on Terradin's mainland anymore. They had all moved en masse to El`ness Nahrral a score of years past.

The dwarves mostly stayed enclosed within Bremgar's massive gates and vast lands. And most of the humans stayed within the borders of Torar-Araldyn, although there was a small amount of them within Eldaria. The land where The Hall sat. The land where dragons dwelled.

He thought of his journey then and where it would take him. He had to cross Eldaria, which shouldn't take more than twenty days if he slept little. From there he had to cross Torar-Araldyn and continue down to Bremgar.

Thinking about Bremgar made him think of Dhurmic. He smiled slightly and scooted away from the fire a few feet.

Dhurmic was one of the few dwarves that had come to The Hall for training. He had found the school—a feat that few had ever accomplished—and pestered the king until Cerralys had finally given in and agreed to teach him. Nachal smiled again, remembering Cerralys's harassed expression when he finally relented. From there, it was an easy thing to become friends with the dwarf.

Dhurmic was as most dwarves are, fiery and stout, with a beard that hung down to his chest and black fire in his eyes. He was the only dwarf that The Hall had ever seen, aside from those that had at first constructed it, and he had practically set the whole place on its ear. He had a way about him that annoyed most people.

Dhurmic often found himself in trouble of his own making, without quite understanding how he came to be there. He was brash, easily given to anger, easily riled, and very quick with his opinions on nearly everything. But underneath all of his gruff exterior beat the heart of a true and loyal friend. Nachal wanted no one else at his back in this mess with Auri than Dhurmic.

He drifted to sleep with the light sound of the rain hitting the boughs far above him, and the warmth of friendship within his soul.

He woke before the dawn, stiff and sore all over. He groaned as he rolled over, and then sat up, rubbing his face along his jaw. His eyes, when he could pry them open, were bleary and unfocused. He was having problems seeing clearly. He shivered violently then sneezed. "Oh perfect," he said acidly. "Just perfect."

He groaned again as he got to his feet unsteadily. Whatever he had, it was bad, and it had hit with a furious and swift vengeance. He sneezed again as he rolled up his blanket and attached it to the bottom of his pack. He brought out some hard tack, and chewed it without really tasting it. His nose dripped.

He squinted above him to the tree line, just now seeing little bits of sunlight stream through the sparse patches of the canopy. The sun was rising and, sick or not, he needed to get moving. He finished the biscuit, drank some water from his water skin, and then loaded everything up on his back again, setting off at a pace barely above a crawl.

After traveling only an hour, he was breathing heavily and sweating all over. Sweat ran down his face and neck, pooling at the small of his back. His thighs burned, and he was so cold that his teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

He finally fell to his knees, unable to take another step, and gasped as the pain hit him. Everything within him burned like a cold fire. Like a fire that would sear with splinters of ice. He thought of the elf again—Auri—and struggled to his feet determinedly. He had to keep going.

When he reached the Strathelm, the river that ran from the Alpine mountains far to the north, he collapsed. He didn't bother unstrapping his sword or removing his bow. The only thing that he dropped was his bag, and only so he could lay his head down on it. He was asleep within minutes.

His violent shivering woke him. The sound of his teeth chattering had even invaded his dreams. He gasped as he sat up. The world ran in dripping, spinning color. He groaned and clutched his head, clenching his eyes shut against the spinning trees.

When he opened them again, he looked around slowly. He dimly remembered making it to the Strathelm the day before, and there it was in front of him, overflowing its banks and running dangerously fast. His heart sank. He wouldn't be able to cross it, and there was no safe crossing for many miles to the north, and many more at a different crossing to the south.

He didn't have the strength to go _either_ distance, but he knew that he needed to get across before it got any more swollen. Already it was probably too late. He stood, holding on to a tree to steady him, and gathered his things. As he looked around, he chewed on more tasteless food, contemplating his options.

He could cross here, where it wasn't as wide as perhaps other spots, or he could hike north or south and find the safe crossings. That would probably be the smartest option, but the delay made him shake inside. He could barely stand, Auri was in mortal danger, and he didn't think he could hike either distance right now. The impotent feeling from the dream washed over him.

Standing in frustrated silence, he heard the leaves blow gently through the trees above, like children whispering secrets to one another. He looked up and was mesmerized by the gentle swaying of the leaves as they danced in the wind. Then he saw the branches, and a crazy idea began to form in his head. He might not be able to hike for several miles, but maybe he had strength enough to climb _one_ tree.

Before giving himself any more time to think about it, he began to climb the tree directly ahead of him. As he got further up, he saw that many of the branches met across the river, nearly tip to tip. Though the river was wide and deep, the trees were ancient, tall, and very thick. He got near the top and had to pause. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, just trying to breathe without being sick.

He was uncomfortable with heights and always had been. This illness on top of it just made everything worse. His head hadn't stopped spinning since he had first opened his eyes, and it looked to him like he was climbing a thin mountain amidst a very bad earthquake. Everything shook and swirled around him, until finally he had to close his eyes and breathe slowly through his mouth and nose again.

When he opened them a second time, things had steadied a little. A thick branch ran the width of half the river, and another tree on the other side met it at almost the exact middle, embracing it like a long-lost friend. They twisted and twined together, creating one long bridge above the ground.

He knew that he couldn't stand. Instead, he scooted across, inch by lurching inch. When he got halfway out, the branch beneath him cracked ominously. Panic didn't hit him then, but only because he forced it down. He ignored the splinter that was becoming more visible in the bark, and tried to move his sluggish body faster. He made it another quarter of the trunk before another crack, this one louder, made him freeze in place.

He held his breath. It didn't help.

Another loud crack echoed. He looked back. The branch was shearing off! Any minute it would fall, and he with it. He said some things then that Cerralys would surely never approve of as he felt his gaze being pulled down to the dizzying drop below.

It was a long way down.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then rose unsteadily to his feet, gasping again as his eyes automatically went downward. The river below was swirling around and around, like a crazy waterfall that couldn't decide where it should stay. The water tilted almost vertically before he realized that he was underneath the branch and looking down on the river below him from upside down. He closed his eyes again before his sight and roiling stomach could make things worse then used his arms and legs to claw back up to the topside of the branch.

A crack broke the silence again, the sound ricocheting loudly over the noise of the river. He glanced back quickly, the panic beginning to sweep across his senses against his will. With no more options, he tried to stand again. He only had one chance at this.

The branch began to give way completely as he ran flat out and jumped hard. He sailed through the air and slammed into the other branch with such force that all of the air was knocked from his lungs. They spasmed in vain, trying desperately to find breath but finding none. Mists of darkness started to dim his eyes. He held them back through sheer force of will.

Gasping loudly, air finally returned to him. He breathed deeply for a minute then tried to pull himself up on top of the branch. He couldn't. His fingers were numb and fumbled uncooperatively. The muscles in his arms trembled from strain. Dizziness made the black edges of unconsciousness hover closer. His fingers slipped as the dark mist surged forward to claim him. He lost consciousness before he hit the bottom.

## 4

# The Cost

Nachal groaned as he came to again. His head was pulsing with pain, and he felt as if he'd taken on the whole garrison at The Hall . . . and lost. He moved his legs gingerly and winced. His ankle was swollen, but as he rotated it slowly around, he found it to be unbroken. He took quick stock of the rest of him. His hands and knees were torn up pretty badly, as were his arms, but nothing that would slow him down much. He sighed in relief and then winced, putting a hand to his head. Even that slight sound and movement made the pounding in his head pulse all the way down to his toes.

He lurched to his feet again, strapped all of his fallen weapons to his back, grabbed his bag, and stumbled away.

He didn't know how long he'd been out, but the light above was nearly the same, so it couldn't have been that long.

He saw the smoke just as he cleared the last of the Du`lna forest. Column after column of it rose high in the air, polluting the blue skies above Tristan. He looked at the columns in confusion at first then dawning horror.

He started to run.

Fire was everywhere. Most of the buildings were lit a sick, crackly orange. Smoke was billowing and choking the streets and alleyways. It was quiet. Too quiet. There should have been people running for the rivers and the wells. There should have been fire brigades and people shouting for help. But there was no one. It was desolate but for the sound of the buildings burning to the ground.

His body was shaking so hard that it was difficult for him to walk. He was sweating hard again, breathing rough and uneven from the run and the smoke and from being ill. He stood in the middle of a wide street and looked around. Turning in a slow circle, he shook his head in bewilderment. What had happened here? Where _was_ everyone?

He limped past buildings that were caved in on themselves like a deck of cards. He limped past silent streets and back alleyways. He limped past flaming embers that slowly fluttered down from the sky and buildings above, burning tiny holes in his torn up clothes. He limped until he came to the town square. And then he stopped.

They were all here—and all of them were dead.

His body started shaking so badly that his legs wouldn't support him anymore. He crawled to them on his hands and knees. Everyone was here, scattered like broken children's playthings. Women and children. Older men who were many years past their prime. All of them dead.

He reached over and held the hand of a little girl with long, blonde hair. Tears streamed down his sooty face, tracking rivulets down his chin and neck, dripping onto his shirt. Fire crackled. Containers exploded. Buildings crumbled into ash and burning timber. But for Nachal nothing else mattered in that moment. Nothing but the little girl's hand that he held and the sightless, blue eyes staring up at him. Nothing but the death and destruction that Obsidian always left in his wake. He held her hand, bowed his head, and sobbed.

After what could have been hours, he looked up. Something had moved out of the corner of his eye. A streak of bleached white on the periphery of his vision. He held himself very still as he quickly scanned the rest of the bodies in the square. He couldn't see much from his position because his vision was partially obstructed by the demolished buildings.

He looked down at the little girl's hand, and kissed her forehead with a whisper of warm lips on cold skin. Then he gently closed her eyes, as if she were merely sleeping, and released his grip on her hand, setting it gently on the ground. He struggled to a standing position, fighting the shakiness of his legs.

He walked around the fallen building in front of him, and then slowly through the dead, searching carefully for any sign of movement.

About halfway through, he saw him.

The man was young, maybe only a score and ten, and he was dragging himself, hand over fist, toward a little girl lying on the periphery of the square. Her body was half in and half out of a smashed doorway. She was absolutely still.

The man was moaning, crying. His legs were dragging uselessly on the ground behind him. Nachal's heart seized, skipping a beat. Then he stumbled over to the man, and went down onto his knees beside him. The man didn't even glance up; he just kept dragging himself over to the little girl. "I can bring her to you," Nachal said gently.

The man turned toward him furiously. "Don't _touch_ her!" he growled then he turned away from him as if he didn't exist, and continued dragging himself over to the child.

"Fine," Nachal said as he slowly stood again. "Just don't swing at me." Then, without giving the man a chance to protest, he picked him up, staggered under the extra weight, and carried him to the demolished doorway. He set him down as gently as he could, and then collapsed to his knees next to him, coughing and shaking.

The man groaned in anguish as he reached for the child. "Amee," he whispered. "My sweet Amee." He tried to pull her to him but didn't have any strength left. He turned back to Nachal with a plea in his eyes. Nachal nodded, tears of smoke and pain rolling down his face. He clutched the child's arms and gently pulled, freeing her from the rubble and fallen beams, then he put her carefully into her father's arms. He knew as soon as he touched her that she was gone, and the father knew it too. The man groaned again, resting his forehead against his daughter's. He wept uncontrollably for a long time.

Nachal's whole body sunk down to the dirt. He laid flat on his back and stared at the rising columns of smoke. Cherry red embers rained down on them from above, floating on the breeze.

After a long while, the man stopped sobbing, and merely lay with his daughter on his lap, brushing her hair away from her face with tender, badly broken fingers. His eyes were glazed, almost vacant.

"It was a black dragon, wasn't it?" Nachal said.

The broken fingers slowly stopped their brushing. He kissed his daughter's eyelids. "Yes," the man whispered. "It was Obsidian."

The flames licked the bodies, rising high above the fires that were still crumbling the rest of the town into ash. The massive wall of heat scorched his skin, making his already high body temperature climb even higher. He would rest later. When there was nothing left.

It had taken him all day to check everyone—every body, every house, every shop—and then it had taken him half the night to drag them all to the middle of the square. Most of his job had already been done for him; there were very few that weren't already there.

The man had died holding his daughter in his arms. The man whose name he didn't know. He didn't know the names of any of these people he was burning. But he knew that if he didn't take care of them, the wild animals would get them. And that thought was just too much for him to contemplate. Wasn't it _enough_ that they had been slaughtered? Did they have to become food for the beasts as well?

So he'd piled their bodies, as gently as he could, in the middle of the square, and lit a funeral pyre. Wood burned beneath them. The wood of their homes and their shops. The wood of the lives that they used to live. It seemed fitting to him.

He watched until there was nothing left then he left without a backward glance. His chest hurt so badly. It felt like something inside of him had been burning right along with the dead. Like _he_ was burning.

He camped by a river that night. Not the Strathelm that ran from the north, but another that flowed from a tributary nearby. The water was as smooth as chilled silk, and it ran like silk down his arms and legs when he stepped in. Thick rivulets of black ran down his body, dripping into the inky black water. He stood like that for a while, not really bathing, not really moving, just dripping wet-pouring ash down his pale skin.

He closed his eyes and could see the light of the fires—the fire of the town, and the fire of the pyre. They lit up his mind like the midday sun, hot and blazingly bright.

He remembered the little girl he had held. The man who had dragged himself, with his last moments of life, to his dead daughter. The women who had died protecting their children; the children who had died regardless. It burned a hole inside of him. It burned so hot that he stood in the dripping water and trembled against the strain of trying to hold it all in. Until, finally, it came out. He screamed. He screamed until his voice went hoarse, until everything inside of his shaking body was spent. His knees hit the water in slow motion. He clutched his stomach, bowed his head, and wept.

Time didn't mean anything to him. The throbbing of his body, the choking of his lungs, the burns that seared his skin, none of it mattered. Nothing mattered.

It was a long time before he was able to drag himself, still dripping soot, from the stream; a long time before he could drag un-charred clothes from his pack and force his fumbling fingers to put them on. He sat in front of the fire in a daze. Remembering, mourning, and finally dreaming.

_He opened his eyes—her eyes—and found himself in the forest, running through flames and smoke. He felt his body—her body—churn with panicked speed._

_He could never stop it, never make her go back, never wrench control and force her to return to the safety that she had willingly left behind. Because she refused to go back. Auri refused to give in._

_They ended up where they always ended up—facing Obsidian. She was helpless in the battle, and Nachal was helpless to stop her. Men shouted and screamed. People . . . so many people, were dying or dead. But still they fought on, frightened probably as much as the elven girl who ran through their midst, trying—ever trying—to get there in time._

_This time the dream seamed surreal to him; this time he didn't try to stop the outcome. He was too numb, too beaten, too tired. When the inevitable happened, he closed his dream eyes and wept for the girl he loved._

## 5

# Need

Auri woke up to darkness and a tap at her door. "Come in," she called. Sweena opened the door and stepped in. "Oh, Sweena," Auri said tenderly. "Did you have another nightmare?" Sweena dodged the huge stacks of books, the tables with ink splattered on them, and the numerous sheaves of parchment that were strewn all over. She reached the relative safety of the bed and climbed up.

"No," she said softly, her little voice husky for a child's. "I didn't have a nightmare."

"Did you need to tell me something then?" Auri guessed.

Sweena nodded. "The king has asked for you in the Great Hall."

Auri blinked at her in surprise. "It's the middle of the night."

The little girl nodded sleepily, settling her body against a pillow. "I know," she sighed, closing her eyes. "He said that it's very important, and that I needed to get you right away."

Auri smiled softly. "Alright, sweetheart," she said. "Sleep now." But the child was already asleep. Despite the seeming urgency of the summons, Auri took a moment to watch the sleeping girl slumber. Her eyelids flickered, as though she was already dreaming, and her face was the face of an angel.

Sweena was an orphan. Her entire family had perished in the sickness that had spread through Ardalan a few winters ago, and she had no one left to care for her. No distant relations had come forward to claim her, not even a friend of the family. There had simply been no one. So the king had taken her into his household and into his care.

She was a quiet child, not easily given to trust. She kept to herself amidst the other children of the castle, and played with a little doll that Auri had given her when she had first come to them. She was respectful, but distant. The toll of losing her family had made her withdraw into a quiet world of her own. A world that she only let two people into—the king and Auri.

Auri smoothed her hand lightly down her honey-brown hair and sighed. Then she stood up and looked around her chamber. Every inch of the darkness stood out clearly to her. Not quite as distinct as daylight, but very nearly so.

It was a stark reminder that she was different. An elven girl among a world of humans. She walked to the glass above her bureau and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were deep blue, fringed with thick, black lashes. Her hair was black as well, and it hung to her shoulder blades. But there the similarities ended. She moved the brush through the snarls of her hair, and focused her gaze on her ears. Slightly pointed. Only slightly, but still noticeable.

She shook her head, clearing the path that her thoughts had been taking her down, and put the brush down. So she was an outsider. It wasn't anything that she wasn't used to. She pulled her sleeping shirt over her head, and hurriedly pulled some clothes on: soft, black pants, a soft, blue shirt, and supple boots. She opened and shut the door quietly and made her way down the wide, circular stairs to the main floor.

The long corridor before her was lit with candles along the wall. As she walked, they flickered slightly at her passing. She reached the doors and nodded to the guardsmen as they opened the door for her to enter. The doors shut quietly behind her.

She stood at the edge of a large room of flickering shadows. Candles had been lit along the wall here as well, and two chairs sat before the hearth at the opposite end of the room. One of the people sitting there rose. Auri recognized the commanding presence of the king before he even stepped toward her. As he did, she immediately noticed the change.

Something was wrong.

She inhaled, holding her breath as she studied him. His grey eyes were tight, lined with worry and an emotion that she couldn't define. His face—which normally sparkled with wit and kindness—was pinched and pale. She met him halfway. He reached for her hand.

"What is it?" she whispered. "What's wrong?"

He held her hand in a bone-squeezing grip as he looked at her. One minute was drawn out to two and then two to three. Finally, he put his other hand to her cheek and held it there. "You know that I love you . . . like my own daughter, Auri, right? Where you came from, who you are, none of those things have ever mattered to me."

Her heart pounded. "Of course," she whispered. "Of course I know. You are the only one for whom it _doesn't_ matter. The only one who loves me in spite of me."

His eyes turned anguished. "Oh, Auri. Is that what you've thought all of these years? That I've loved you in spite of you?" He looked down, overcome with emotion. When he looked up, tears were sparkling along his dark lashes. "I've loved you _because_ of you," he whispered fiercely.

She reached out and wiped away his tears. Her heart was now hammering so loud inside of her chest that it was hard to hear anything else. "What's wrong? Why is it suddenly so important that you tell me this now, tonight?"

He glanced back toward the chair. "There is someone who would like to speak with you," he said quietly. The only other occupant in the room, the person in the second chair, stood up and turned toward her. She gasped.

The king kissed her forehead. "Remember what I said, Auri. And remember also that, whatever you choose, I will support you. I will always love you, and you will always be welcome in my home so long as I have breath in my body."

She couldn't even think to nod. Her mind was tumbling, spinning end over end in a free fall of stunned amazement. She didn't notice that King Valdys had left the room until the door shut behind him. Her feet took her forward without her thinking about it, until she found herself standing before him.

"How—ˮ she began then stopped. " _Who_ are you?"

He didn't answer at first, gesturing to the empty chair. Auri passed it by and sat on the rug in front of the hearth, her eyes on him the whole while. She couldn't take her eyes from his face. His impossible face.

He had rich, golden-amber eyes, and short, sun-streaked blond hair, as though he spent every single moment out in the sun. His hair was short, which easily allowed her to see that his ears were elegantly tapered at the tips. He smiled slightly to himself as she sat down on the rug, as if he had somehow expected that of her.

It _was_ the same elf, but that was impossible! She had been dreaming. None of it had been real! He frowned slightly, as if he were hearing something that she couldn't hear, then his face became smooth and he gazed intently at her. His fingers were resting loosely on his legs, and his posture was relaxed. His whole body gave the impression that he was completely at ease. But his eyes betrayed that impression. They were intense, and very focused.

She had never had anyone focus like that on her before. It was a little unnerving. People tended to look at her and then through her, speaking to her shadow against the wall rather than her. But he didn't. He searched her face for a long time in silence, as she searched his face back. She waited for him to speak, to answer her question. When he did, she winced.

"My name is Liran," his voice rasped. It sounded like pebbles scratching along the bottom of a slow moving brook. There was a honeyed richness to it, but it was a damaged richness. A parody of what it once must have been. Strangely, it comforted her. She felt warmth wash through her.

"Why are you here?" she asked.

"I have come to ask you to come home."

"This _is_ my home."

His eyes glowed. Literally, they glowed. She forgot to breathe for a second. "El`ness Nahrral is your home."

Her heart started pounding again, or maybe she was only now just realizing that it had never stopped. "You want to take me to the elven isle?" she whispered in confusion. "Why?"

He sat calmly under her scrutiny. "There is a way," he said quietly. "A way to show you rather than explain to you. But I will need your permission. It is . . . somewhat invasive."

"How would you show me?"

"I can—" he struggled for the right words "—open your mind, and connect it with my own. I can show you my memories and thoughts."

"And in your memories is your reason for asking me to go with you?"

He nodded, silent.

She studied him for a long, drawn out moment. His eyes had grown more intense as he waited for her to make up her mind, and she had to look away. She couldn't think.

The king had likely spoken with Liran for quite a while before he'd had her summoned. That must mean that he had decided there was no risk to her. She looked around the chamber, searching for guardsmen in the shadowy corners. Perhaps she had missed them in her first glance of the room. But no, no guards were present. She knew Valdys well enough to know that he was astute and very cautious, especially when it came to matters of her personal safety. The king trusted this person. She decided to test the waters anyway; see what his response was.

"Is the king afraid of you?"

He shook his head. "He fears the outcome. He does not fear me." His eyes intensified even more. " _You_ have nothing to fear from me either."

"How will you show me the images? What do I do?"

"I will kneel before you and put my hand against the skin of your cheek. Images will come to your mind. You need do nothing but receive them."

She nodded, drew in a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Even though she had been expecting his hand, she still jumped when his skin came into contact with her own. "Sorry," he breathed. "Your skin is warm. Are you ill?"

"My skin is always warm." She blinked her eyes open to see his and then almost jumped again when they were right in front of her, closer than she had been expecting.

"I won't hurt you," he murmured. His eyes were cautious, almost confused. "Close your eyes again please."

She closed them. "I'm ready."

"No. You're not," he whispered. And before she could ask him what he meant, the images came.

_She stood far off and witnessed a battle—a battle of dragons. They split the skies open with their roars and their wings and their flaming breath. They clawed and tore at each other. They tumbled from high above, locked in mortal combat until the last possible second, then their wings shot out and they halted a breath away from the flaming earth beneath them. They shot across the skies breathtakingly fast, like arrows flying to their targets. Hundreds of arrows. Hundreds of targets. They filled the dark night. They eclipsed the moon._

_In her form, far from the battle on a secluded hillside, she shivered._

_And then came the image of the aftermath. So many dragons dead. Magnificent, beautiful creatures lying still and silent on the flaming earth. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She knew what this was. This was the Dragon War._

_"Yes," Liran's voice whispered._

_Then the image was gone, and in its place was a room of white and green. Living plants curled around the open edges of a white pavilion, shooting looping vines around the trellises and beams that held the pavilion up. A scattering of seats sat at one end of the room. The people in them were panicking, shouting to be heard above one another. Anxiety oozed, bleeding into the air._

_Auri stood at the far end of the pavilion with a few others who stood observing the scene quietly._

_An elf stood up. Her presence was different from the others. She held herself regally, and gazed at the thrones at the opposite end of the sun-bleached room with a soul-deep authority. Auri couldn't see around her to the thrones, but she didn't want to. The person standing in the middle of the room commanded her full attention. She felt . . . anticipation. Admiration._

_"My feelings," Liran whispered._

_And it was then that she understood. She was Liran, viewing all of this as it had happened. He had witnessed these things._

_She nodded slightly with his hand still touching her cheek. His hand moved with it._

_Back in the sun-bleached room, Auri gazed with intent focus on the elf standing. She was slight of build with raven hair. Her voice was like a melody. A strong melody. "I am going," she said. Immediate silence followed her pronouncement. Everyone stared at her in shock and then some nodded their heads silently in agreement; others looked at her in horror._

_"Do you know what you are asking?" a voice whispered across the sudden silence of the room from the direction of the thrones._

_"I'm not asking, Alera. Not this time. I'm going."_

_"It is a death sentence," the voice whispered. "Not only for you, but for everything."_

_The elf with the raven hair stood rigid. "I," she said harshly, "cannot stand idly by and watch such suffering. We elves have the power to heal it, at the very least to lessen it, and still we do_ nothing _! I cannot do it any longer!" Her voice became a whisper. "And I cannot understand how you can."_

_The silence was like a pall. Deathly still._

_"So be it," the voice whispered wearily._

_She was walking in the dark of night, alone. A full, bright moon hovered above her. There was a sense within her. A need to find something. A hollow emptiness in a bright pocket of life. She came to a clearing of trees and looked around then closed her eyes, searching—searching for that strange hollowness._

_She walked on, keeping her eyes closed to see better. The incongruity of that felt natural to her, as natural as taking a step with her eyes wide open. It was hard to remember that she was Liran right now, with Liran's feelings and Liran's memories. Hard to remember that this wasn't her._

_When she opened her vision eyes, she sighed heavily. The trees all around her were dead. All of them had fallen, eaten alive from the hollowness within them. The animals were dead too, lying across the ground in various stages of decay. Circling the area was life: brown-barked trees standing majestically, vibrant green leaves and needles, squirrels twittering, night birds swooping. But here in this place was death, and she knew—with the certainty of Liran's feelings and knowledge within her—that it was only the beginning._

## 6

# Silence

Auri opened her eyes as Liran took his hand from her cheek. It came away wet with her tears. His eyes were still and quiet.

"Long ago," he rasped, "there was a great Dragon War. The aftermath of the war was terrible. Not only did so many die—dragons, humans, and elves—but the land itself began to die. There was nothing that could be done. The dragons have a tie with the land; the land reacts to them."

Auri wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "Why? Why does the land react to them?"

"It is part of their legacy, their gift. They are the caretakers of all of the beings that walk upon the lands. They have certain gifts that allow them to fulfill their responsibilities."

"And the elves, what do _they_ do?"

"They are the caretakers of the land itself," he said quietly. He sat down in front of her on the rug, and stared at her with bright, intense eyes. "Once we worked in tandem, dragons and elves working together to care for Terradin and its people. And then the dragons split amongst themselves, causing a deep fraction in the land. After the war, the rift of the land grew deeper, allowing the poison to seep in, allowing the hollowness to begin."

She frowned. "I don't understand."

He sighed, looking down at the rug in frustration. "I know, but there is no way to show you something that is a second sense within me. Something that most elves are taught at birth."

She flinched. "I was left here after the death of my mother and raised by a kind-hearted human," she said stiffly. "If I had known the location, if _anyone_ had known the location, I would have gone to see the place where my mother grew up a long time ago."

Liran looked at her with quiet, compassionate eyes. "I am not criticizing you, Auri. You are here through no fault of your own, and even had you chosen to stay here where you were raised, and never gone to see El`ness Nahrral, I would never have faulted you for that. But there is a certain sense that you learn upon the isle that you don't have because you have been raised here. A sense that is difficult to explain with words."

She nodded. Her body relaxed. She gazed absently across the hall to the candles flickering shadows on the walls, thinking. Then she found his face again. "Could you show me? Is that something that you can show, like with the images?"

He hesitated. "It might be . . . confusing for you."

At this, she smiled and almost laughed. "More so than any of the rest of this?"

His eyes lit and a soft half-smile touched his lips. "Perhaps not." He came up onto the balls of his feet again in a crouch then reached forward and gently put his hand against her cheek. It was brief contact, but it felt like a zap of lightning.

Connections formed, burning brightly amidst the ignorance of her mind like illuminated string, tying together things that she had never even known existed. First was the elven tie to the land. It was strong, a brilliant, golden string. But at one end, the string was turning dark, almost as though the connection was diseased. Before she even had time to think about that, an image flashed of the dragon's string. It was pure white, and even stronger than the elven string. Like hard, cabled, reinforced metal that had been purified until it was brilliant white. One end of it, roughly about a third, was a deep, shadowless black. Her heart pounded when she saw it. This was different than the darkened part of the elven string. This was pitch-black with no brilliancy whatsoever.

Liran took his hand away. "That is the only way that I can think of to show you. What I can't show you is that they are all interconnected. After the Dragon War, the lands began to decay. The blackness that you saw at the end of their string is like a slow moving poison, seeping into the earth. I cannot explain fully because I am not a dragon and I don't understand all of it."

Her body trembled slightly, and she had a faint queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She put a hand over it, and inhaled slowly through her nose.

"It makes me want to throw up too," Liran offered quietly.

She nodded with her eyes closed. "What—" It came out rough; she cleared her tight throat and tried again. "What do you want from me?"

"Come back with me. Meet with the king and queen."

The pounding in her heart grew stronger, louder. Meet with the king and queen? Travel to the place where her mother was born? "Why do you want _me_?" She opened her eyes in time to see that the question made him uncomfortable. "How do I know that you aren't somehow manipulating me?"

He sat for a long time, looking at her face, reading her eyes and her expression. "You don't," he finally said. "You have no guarantee other than my word. And I realize that my word means little to you." He shook his head, looking away from her. "As for the other, I can give no answer that would make sense to you right now." His head came up, and his eyes lit with a blazing intensity that was so bright it made her flinch. "I can only tell you that _now_ is the calm before the storm. And I feel—with every fiber of my being—that _you_ are vital for our survival."

She laughed. It was a slightly hysterical, desperate sound. "Me? Time has proven that I can do nothing but provide fodder for others' jests and cruelty. The one who is different, and does not belong in polite, elegant society. I very much doubt that it will be any different among elven-kind."

His face tensed. His bright eyes blazed with fury. Something, some fear on her face, had him standing quickly. He walked to the windows along the east wall and looked out at the dark, probably seeing everything there just as she could.

She was breathing rapidly, and every heartbeat pulsed all the way to her toes. "Why does that anger you?" she whispered, staring at the rough shadows of his face amidst the flickering candles.

"That too I cannot explain," he said quietly, after a time.

She watched him standing there, against the flicker of shadows and light, and her mind went back to the images that he had shown her. He had always stood apart in them. Separate. She was beginning to get a sense of him, an image of the man behind the mask. "In the vision of the pavilion, you were standing at the back with a row of elves. Why?"

"I am a Vi`dal. It is my job to protect the king and queen."

"Then why aren't you protecting them now?"

He turned slowly, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned casually against the window. "I _am_ protecting them, just in a different way. The queen called five of the Vi`dal to be what you would call Watchers in the common tongue."

She rose slowly, thinking this through. Then she walked toward him, looking at him intently, trying to put all of the pieces together. "And what do the Watchers do?"

"We look for a miracle," he whispered quietly.

"What sort of miracle? I don't understand."

"I know." His voice was sad. "We look for a way to stop the poison, Auri. We walk the earth of Terradin, and slow the decay that is even now seeping deeper. And the whole while we search for a way to reverse it. We search for a miracle."

"Why me?" she ground out in frustration. "Why does this have anything to do with me?"

"Perhaps," he said quietly, "perhaps _you_ are that miracle."

She closed her eyes against his words, and walked away from him, leaving him to stare after her with an unfathomable look on his face.

She walked to the gardens that she had created when she was a child. Shimmering, blue stones cobbled the walks, twisting and twining through several different levels of trees and greenery. Here everything grew by her hand. She had leveled out a small, clear blue lake in the middle of the garden, lined on the bottom with the same blue stones of the walkways.

Benches were scattered throughout, most prominently circling the self-made lake. She went to sit at one now and stared at the ripples undulating across the water. The wind blew her hair against her face as she leaned into it. She loved the feel of the wind on her face and in her hair. She loved how it always made her feel alive.

She got up after a while and slowly walked around the lake. It had taken her years to make the gardens, but the most difficult by far had been the lake.

It took her about a quarter of an hour to make the circuit once around, but she still couldn't find herself amongst her inner twisting thoughts, so she started around again. The second time around, a figure joined her.

"I will miss you," the king said. Auri paused in her steps and looked up at him. His grey eyes were grave and somber. His face was still pale.

"Who says I'm going anywhere?"

He chuckled and then sighed, shaking his head. "I know you, sweetheart. You will walk around once and see that you need another turn. Twice and you will almost come to a conclusion. Three times and you will decide you must do what you can, and then the fourth time around you will come to terms with it all. You will go," he said with certainty.

She smiled and took his arm as she continued walking. "Why have you interrupted me then? I have only gone once around. I still have three more to go after this."

He laughed, a genuine one this time. "Because I am old, and can hardly keep up with you. I decided to head you off now in favor of rest sooner."

She shook her head, catching her hair as it blew into her face. "Two score ten and three is not old, my liege, and you are still considered very eligible. If the female nobility of Ardalan had their way, you would already have another queen."

He glared at her. "And how would _you_ know this? If there is a political or social gathering here, I can almost guarantee your absence!"

She grinned. "Almost, but you're never completely sure are you?"

His lips twitched. "No. You've lost your guardsmen so many times that they consider it part of their daily duties just to simply find you. I've heard them taking bets on who of them will actually manage it, and where you will deign to let yourself be seen."

She laughed. The sound rang out over the water and wind. The king smiled to hear it. "So," he said, as they reached the benches on the far side of the lake, "this is where I leave you." He reached up and brushed her hair away from her face. "I love you, Auri. Your mother, though I didn't know her long, will always have a special place in my heart, just as her daughter will. She was my best friend after Arista died. She came into my life suddenly, blindingly."

Auri looked up at him. He had never wanted to speak of this before. "Did you and she . . . did you love her in that way then?"

He looked away from her face to the water. Silence enveloped them for a moment before he spoke again. "I would be a liar if I told you that I felt nothing in that way for her because I did. But it was so overpowered by my memory of Arista, and by her memories of another, that nothing ever came of it." He looked down at her again. "She was simply my best friend, and she remained so until the day she died."

Silence again. They stood looking at the water together, their arms entwined. "I have had word for some time that the black dragon is on the move again." She looked at him in alarm, but he kept his face toward the water, avoiding her eyes. "He is gathering an army."

"Why did you not tell me? You've shared everything else with me about what is happening outside of Ardalan, why not this?"

He smiled a sad smile. "I suppose I was trying to protect you. Ever since you were a child, news of the dark dragons has upset you. It's like you are personally affronted by what they're doing. It reaches into your soul and claws it with anguish. I've never seen any other react the same way." He was quiet as he squeezed her hand then he whispered, "I just didn't want to see you hurting anymore."

He turned to her, taking her upper arms within his large hands. "I know that it has not been easy, Auri. You have been an outcast here, even protected as you were by my autonomy. You have grown up without your mother, without any other of your own kind to guide you, and I know that I have made a poor father for you. I was broken when my wife Arista died and then broken again when your mother died. You were all I had left. I know that it wasn't enough, that _I_ wasn't enough. I've always wished that I could somehow make up for the many wrongs in your life, but. . ." He closed his eyes in pain. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Auri reached up with a tender hand to cup his cheek. "You gave me all that you had. You gave me a home, a place to belong, if only with you. You gave me love when others couldn't and I am so very grateful."

"And yet you still think that it is in spite of you," he said hoarsely.

Her smile was sad. "Yes," she whispered.

"Oh, Auri." He opened his eyes again to look at her. "Someday, somewhere, someone will love you. They will love you so passionately, so intensely, so completely, and only then will you realize that it is not in spite of who you are, but _because_ of it."

She stared, slightly dazed by his vehemence. "And you? Will you marry again?"

"Never," he said flatly then he smiled. "Besides, I have had three women in my life who no one could ever hope to compare with. Three women who have given me enough to last for several lifetimes. I have no need of another."

The sun was rising more fully as they again looked out over the water. In the distance she could hear the castle slowly coming to life, but here in her garden it was peaceful.

"I will send the Tide Skimmer to you at Tulenoss," the king said after a while.

"Tulenoss?"

He nodded. "It's the closest port to your destination."

She turned in surprise. "You _know_ where the isle is," she breathed, almost in accusation.

He looked uncomfortable. "I know the general direction."

"Why have you never told me this before?" _My_ _home! You kept me from my home!_

He shifted his feet. "Your mother made me promise that you would not leave until someone of her own race came here looking for you. I argued with her, but she was adamant. It was her dying wish, Auri. I couldn't gainsay her." He looked at her pleadingly, desperate for her forgiveness in something that he knew meant so much to her.

Auri sighed, hugging him. Those days were gone, and grudges or ill feelings didn't belong here in their farewells.

"Sorry," he mumbled into her hair like a little child.

"Forgiven." She pulled away and searched his face. "I shall miss you and Sweena. Take care of her, Valdys. Let her replace me in your heart."

He smiled. "That is an unfair thing that you ask, both for her and for me. She should not try to replace another, nor can she." His eyes were somber and sad. "No one can replace you."

They stood for another moment in silence then he gave her one more gruff hug and whispered in her ear, "I have kept him waiting in my selfishness. He is there, on the bench." He kissed her forehead. "Go in peace and safety," he whispered again then was gone, walking quietly away from the two who stared at each other across the distance that separated them.

"Were you there the whole time?" she asked in surprise.

Liran nodded, offering no excuse.

"Is this normal for you, this eavesdropping?"

He looked away. "I would be able to hear you even if I was inside," he said quietly.

She looked at him in shock. "How?"

He shrugged. "It is part of the gifts of a Watcher."

He looked so alone in that moment that she found herself moving forward to sit next to him on the bench. "That must be difficult for you," she said.

He didn't respond.

She tilted her head back to let the breeze flutter through her hair again and closed her eyes. The sun was already bright and warm on her skin, red behind her closed eyelids. The breeze was a whisper across the water, floating through her soul and calming her.

"Will you come with me?" he whispered softly.

She kept her eyes closed. "Yes, Liran. I will come with you."

## 7

# Found

They left shortly after that. She had packed a few supplies—things that she wanted to keep with her should she not be able to return for a while—and then they had left. The castle grew more and more distant as they entered the forests surrounding Ardalan.

The forests, she knew from the king's geography books, would continue for many miles in their current direction: north-west. The port of Tulenoss was situated on the extreme edge of Torar-Araldyn, and was rumored to be a small but crucial shipping community.

It was a major stopping-off point for those wishing to travel further east into the vast Eldrian Sea or even to sail around to Eldaria. It was whispered that even the dwarves could be seen in the tiny community, bartering for goods from sailors coming in with shiploads of supplies, things that they couldn't produce in their own country—which, from what her studies told her, wasn't much.

Torar-Araldyn was still beautiful, even beaten down as it was by the Dragon War. The country seemed clear and pristine. Every now and then as they walked she could see pockets of death, or hollowness as Liran had called it, and it saddened her.

There was so much beauty: cool, clear mountains that were dotted with forests and glades; streams and lochs that twisted and twined through the valleys and along the steep banks of the emerald hillsides; an air so pure that it almost hurt to breathe it in . . . but it was all slowly dying. Withering. She could see that now. There were signs of it everywhere. She sighed and focused her attention on the elf walking beside her.

He was quiet and seemed to be preoccupied. He walked at a fast pace that she easily kept up with, but never really appeared to pay attention to his surroundings. Instead she could see that he was focusing inward, as though he were searching through his memories and thoughts for the answer to some vast puzzle. Every once in a while he would stop and close his eyes, listening to something that she couldn't hear.

He stopped again, and his whole body went completely still. His face was intent, his eyes closed. His stillness permeated the little area surrounding them. Even the birds went silent.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked, unable to quell her curiosity any longer.

"Listening," he said shortly.

She smiled at his brevity. "I gathered that much. What are you listening _to_?"

He opened his eyes. They were deep with things that she couldn't see and hear. Deep with life and knowledge. Deep with weariness. "I'm listening for divergences," he said carefully.

"Divergences. . ." She lengthened the word, hoping for more of an explanation, but he only nodded his head. She had no idea what he was talking about. What divergences?

"Hmm," she said in an observational tone, as though she understood completely what he was talking about, and had some sort of intelligent opinion on it.

His eyes lit up a bit and his lips quirked at the corners. He never really fully smiled, she noticed. The only way for her to really tell what was going on inside of him was through his eyes. His eyes were always so deep, as though his thoughts, his feelings, his memories, covered vast centuries of time. Liran seemed so young but had the burdens of a much older being. A being who had perhaps seen more than he had ever wanted to see.

She found herself, as they traveled, looking over at him, pondering the person behind the mask. All people wore them. It was safer to wear a mask, and there were so many—a mask of indifference when you really, secretly cared; a mask of biting sarcasm to cover a world-weary heart; a mask of cruelty to cover feelings of inferiority.

With Liran, his mask was carefully concealed, almost beyond her understanding. The mask was deep and had many layers. Layer upon layer of history and things that he wanted to keep hidden from the world. But her deepest sense of him was that he was a very good person and he felt very deeply about things. He cared perhaps _too_ much. She looked down at her feet and sighed. Was there such a thing as caring too much? Perhaps. . .

Liran interrupted the quiet with a sudden blunt question. "Has your skin always been warm?" he asked, his intense eyes looking directly at her.

"Yes. I've always thought it was because I am an elf."

He stopped walking, and suddenly his palm was flat against her cheek, cradling it. His touch was soft and cool. "Elves are slightly cooler than humans, but you're not, you're warmer," he murmured.

She swallowed. "I guess I am."

His eyes flashed through emotions too fast for her to pin any down, but the last to flash through was clear: frustration. He closed his eyes for a minute and took a deep breath. His hand continued to cradle her cheek. She trembled and closed her eyes too. Her heart was drumming inside of her chest; her breath sped up. And then he was gone. The absence of his hand felt so strange that she put her own palm up to touch her cheek.

What had just happened? The empty clearing echoed only silence. She shook her head, dazed, and hurried to catch up with him.

Hours passed in silence. He didn't stop again to listen to the forest; he didn't even glance her way. It was as though she had ceased to exist to him. He traveled swiftly. Gracefully. Quietly. Twigs snapped beneath her boots, creating what felt like a ricochet of sound, but where Liran walked was absolute silence. His breath made no sound. His feet made no sound. He was like a walking shadow.

She kept her head down, focusing on her footing so that she didn't trip. Usually she managed not to, but the forest was so thick with brambles and snagging bushes, rocks and fallen logs that she needed to watch where she was going. Liran apparently didn't need to. His eyes were straight ahead, looking beyond the next bend or the next tree, watchful and alert.

She thought back to . . . was it only last night? When he had gotten up abruptly and went to stand by the windows. She could picture it in her mind. His face angled away from her, staring out at the dark. His body radiating anger. What had caused that? If she could figure that out, maybe she could get a better look at the person behind the mask. She glanced at him walking beside her. His whole body screamed unapproachable just then, but she asked anyway.

"Liran, what happened in the Great Hall? Did I say something that somehow offended you?"

Images flashed suddenly into her mind. Liran walking through a forest alone, searching for things that only he could see and hear. Liran standing with less than a handful of people at the back of a sun-drenched room. Liran standing by himself on a hillside in the dark, watching the dragons annihilate each other. She stopped walking suddenly, feeling as though she had just been punched in the stomach. He was always alone. Even amidst people, Liran was alone.

He stopped but didn't turn. His shoulders were tense.

"I don't understand," she said quietly. "And I want to."

"It wasn't you, Auri," he rasped. "I just. . ."

She walked forward to grab his arm and slowly turned him to face her. "What? You just what?"

Indefinable emotion filled his eyes with bright intensity. She kept her hand on his arm—waiting. "I was furious that you have been treated so poorly," he said finally, his voice quiet. "Furious at the blind ignorance of self-indulged, small-minded people."

Her eyes widened. He hadn't been angry _with_ her, but rather angry on her behalf. She released his arm and stepped back, confusion sweeping over her. She felt as though she constantly had to readjust her perceptions of him. As soon as she felt like she had him figured out, he said something that had her floundering. He watched her steadily. She swallowed the emotion clogging her throat and tried to speak. "Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded curtly. They walked for another long stretch of silence before she spoke again. "Liran?"

"Yes?"

"You mentioned four others. Are they around usually? Do you see them often?"

He shook his head. "No. Maybe once every few years."

"Once every few years? But why? Don't you need to keep each other apprised?"

His smile was sad. "There is no need to keep them apprised when things only ever continue as they always have. The poison spreads, and hope slowly dwindles until there is nothing but darkness. These are things the Watchers already know."

Silence for another mile or so. "Liran?"

"Yes?"

"How long?"

She was amazed, and yet not, that he understood without her needing to expound. "A long time," he said quietly.

She swallowed. Her eyes burned. "What about me?"

He stopped and turned. "You may not want my friendship, Auri. I'm quite a bit older than you are."

She glared at him, the moment of tenderness completely gone. " _I,_ am _not_ shallow."

His lips twitched with the ghost of a smile. "No, I guess you're not."

"You can't be that old," she said in frustration. "You don't look older than a score of years, maybe a score and five."

He shook his head in amusement, his eyes continuing to laugh at her as she scowled at him. "Elves don't age the same as humans."

"Are you going to tell me or not?" she demanded.

"Not, I think," he said with a small chuckle.

She resisted the urge to kick him. When he chuckled again, she decided she really shouldn't hold all that anger in—it was undoubtedly bad for her—so she flicked her foot out and kicked him in the shins. Hard. "Tell me!" she demanded, trying not to wince at the sudden throbbing of her toe. His shins were like stone!

He smiled his half smile. "Are you going to kick me again if I don't?"

"Probably."

"Alright," he said with a slight laugh, his hands up in surrender. "But only to protect your foot from further injury." His face became serious, his eyes intent. "I'm a century three score and nineteen."

She blinked, the throbbing of her toe momentarily forgotten. _He was_ _a hundred and seventy-nine years old!_ He had started forward again; she followed after him, dazed and slightly limping. How long did elves _live_? There wasn't much about that in any of the books back at Ardalan. She had scoured the library, and found distressingly little.

"Is that considered young?"

He shook his head. "Not really. It's closer to midlife for us. _You_ are what would be considered young."

She pondered that for a while. If he was only in his middle age then elves probably lived to be around five centuries. She felt shock. Five centuries seemed so long compared with the relatively short lives of humans. It was long enough to see empires grow and crumble, to see loved ones live and die. Valdys and Sweena, she would probably long outlive both of them. . .

Her voice was subdued when she spoke again. "I still would like to," she said quietly.

He tilted his head and regarded her from behind steady, luminous eyes. "I would be honored, Auri. Thank you."

She nodded and looked away, feeling again as though there was more behind his words. More that she didn't understand.

After a while, she started to get hungry. Liran seemed content to continue indefinitely without food, but she might need to eat something soon. Just as she thought this, her stomach growled. Liran heard it and laughed quietly. "I think we should feed you soon. We can stop here."

They had come to a small, winding stream in the middle of a thicket of trees. It was peaceful and quiet. She took her boots and socks off and stuck her feet in the cool water. The water sluiced over her throbbing toe and quieted it. Liran handed her something from his bag. She took it and saw that it was a container filled with nuts and dried berries. "Thank you," she said, taking a bite. She looked over at him. "This is good."

He nodded.

"Aren't you eating?"

"I only need to eat once every few days, and even then I don't need much. You take it," he said, his lips quirking in a half smile. "You need it more than I do."

She pushed at him half-heartedly in annoyance as he sat down next to her to wait.

"Is that normal for elves?" she asked after a quiet minute of eating.

"No, only for Watchers. Most of the others eat pretty regularly."

"Why is it different for you then?"

He shrugged. "I'm not really sure why, it just is. We need little rest, eat infrequently, and have heightened senses above that of a normal elf. It's part of the queen's graces. When she sent us from El`ness Nahrral, she graced us with some of her abilities."

"Are her abilities so different then?"

He was quiet for a moment before he replied. "Yes," he said softly. "The queen's graces are _very_ different. They need to be."

She nodded, watching the water pass her by, thinking about the queen. What would she be like?

When she finished, she pulled her feet from the water. The toe on her right foot was still swollen and bright red. She turned and scowled at him.

He bent over her to examine it. "Sorry," he said repentantly, as though he had _asked_ her to kick him. "I guess I have thick shins." He tilted his face down, closed his eyes, and went completely still. His hand remained on her boot so that she couldn't put it back on. When he opened his eyes again, he stood with fluid grace and walked quickly out of her range of sight. Less than a minute later he was back with some sort of moss in his hands. "If you wrap this around your foot it will reduce the swelling."

She took it, glancing from the moss to Liran in surprise. "How did you find this?"

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I can feel it. It's a living thing."

She wrapped her toe, continuing to glance at him out of the corner of her eye. When her boot was back on, she tried to grab her bag, but his hand was already there. He took it without a word and added it to his own pack. "I'll carry it for a while."

"I can do it."

"I never said you couldn't."

She sighed and followed him. He was almost out of her range of sight already.

They walked for several more hours. The shadows grew longer; the forest grew darker. "Does that work for _all_ living things? Including people?"

"Yes."

"What about me? Can you sense me?"

"Yes."

"Does that . . . can you . . . can you read my thoughts?"

"I haven't been trying to. I generally try to stay out of people's heads. It helps me to stay sane."

"But if you were trying," she insisted, "you could read my thoughts?"

He nodded.

"Oh." She wasn't sure how she felt about that. A cringing sort of exposure mostly.

As the dusk settled deeper around them, she noticed the tension gradually easing from Liran's body. He had held himself painfully alert when the sun was high, but now, with the long shadows and sleepy silence, he seemed finally able to relax.

He stopped to listen for a moment and then headed straight into a clearing underneath a sparse outcrop of pines, almost as though he could _see_ the clearing in his mind or perhaps hear the emptiness of the space. Could he do that? She looked over at him speculatively. She wouldn't be surprised.

He smirked.

"You cheated!" she accused with narrowed eyes.

"You practically invited me in," he said with a laugh.

"I did not! I only asked if you could!"

"I'll stay out for a while. I promise."

"For a while?" She glared at him. He chuckled again as he started setting up camp for the evening. She scowled at his back then shook her head. There wasn't anything she could do about it. Either he would or he wouldn't.

"Is there clean water close by?" she asked, looking around.

"Yes."

She waited. When he didn't say anything else, just continued setting up the stones, she cleared her throat. "And where might that be?"

He stopped what he was doing, and looked up at her. The silence grew.

"You are an elf, yes?" His voice was very gentle.

"Yes. . ."

He got up from his crouch, and came to stand before her. His eyes were tender. "Close your eyes," he said quietly. She watched his face for a moment before she did as he asked.

"Now listen."

She did. She didn't hear anything other than the wind. "I don't understand what I'm listening for."

She felt his hands on her shoulders. "You've been raised by humans and, though they have many diverse abilities and skills, this is not one of them. Reach out with your feelings, feel the calm in the air, taste the wind, and listen for whatever sounds may introduce themselves to you."

She cracked an eye open and looked at him in disgruntlement, sure that he was playing some sort of game with her.

His expression turned very sad. She squirmed uncomfortably at that look in his blazing, golden-amber eyes. "Trust me," he said softly.

She sighed, closed her eyes again, and tried to do what he asked. At first, all she could hear was the wind but the longer she remained quiet and still the more she started to hear. Along with the sound of the wind was Liran's breath, close to her face. She tapped into the sound of both and let her senses expand until she felt it—another slight shift within her. Almost as though something had lain dormant for many years and now was finally being awakened.

Her body grew more still. Her senses grew more acute. She could hear Liran's heart beating now and the insects crawling along the forest floor. There was a rustle in the green ferns behind her. She cocked her head in that direction and tried to be still and listen. The rustling stopped. She moved on to another sound, fascinated with what was happening to her. The ability was so strong it was almost like sight. The ability to _see_ things clearly by _closing_ her eyes. Exactly as Liran had done in the images that he had shown her.

Soon, it seemed to her that the whole forest had come alive. She could hear a flock of birds as they flew some distance up in the sky. She could hear the sound of a reptile scuttling over the dirt. An owl hooted, its mournful cry calling out to the surrounding forest.

Liran's breath had abruptly ceased. She scrunched her face together in a frown. "What's wrong? Why did you stop breathing?"

His breath started again, heavier and raspier. "Nothing. Please continue," he said in a strained voice.

Auri shrugged, and gave herself over to her _sight_ again. Something brushed against the outer edges of her mind. She found a central pulse of stillness and expanded further. The too-loud sound of rushing rapids cascaded down over her. She flinched, startled.

"Don't expand that far; close it in tighter to this area," Liran said in a voice that was even more strained than before.

"How?" _She was in a different area? How had that happened?_

"Draw the sense closer to your own life force."

"Easy for you to say," she mumbled in frustration. He made a strangled sound—half laugh, half groan—and then went quiet again. Auri took a deep breath in, concentrating even more, and slowly, very slowly, drew the sense closer to her body, radiating it out at what she thought was half a mile in any direction. And suddenly . . . there it was. The water was close to their current location, gurgling and shushing in a slow moving rivulet.

She opened her eyes, smiling slightly in awe, and looked at Liran. His face held an unreadable expression. "You are an elf, Auri. It's part of you. Don't shove it away." With that said he resumed setting up camp while Auri, equally as quiet, grabbed her pack and started walking in the direction that the sound of the water had come from.

Her thoughts were centered around Liran.

When she reached the stream, she attended to her needs and washed up leisurely, enjoying the feeling of clean skin. She combed her wet hair with the pearl comb Valdys had given her several years ago. When she stowed everything back in her smaller pack, she found a smooth stone to sit on.

The sound of the water calmed her. She was excited at the prospect of visiting her homeland, but also nervous. Would they accept her? Would they be troubled at her upbringing? And then a strange thought flitted through her mind . . . perhaps she had family there! An uncle or cousin, perhaps grandparents, maybe all of the above.

As much as she cared about Valdys, as much as she loved him, she longed for those of her own kind. Someone who shared her blood. Someone who knew her mother and could tell her stories of what she was like when she was younger.

She only had vague impressions, vague memories of her mother. She had been beautiful, with long, dark hair and dark eyes, and the smell of pine and sunshine always surrounded her. When she'd snuggled with her that was the scent that had enveloped them. The pine was soft and subtle, the sunshine warm and effulgent. It made her feel warm inside even now to remember it. She stared up at the bright moon above her, lost in her thoughts.

Valdys had only known her mother for two years before she was killed. He described her as a woman of grace and beauty, and a woman haunted by much loss. At her request, he had sent a fleet of ships out, scouring the ocean for any sign of Auri's father or any of the others they had been traveling with.

Finally, when many months had gone by with nothing found, her mother had accepted the bleak and awful truth: they had all perished. Alienated from her own people for reasons that she did not disclose, broken from the loss of her mate, she mourned deeply for many, many months. Valdys, Auri, and the serving staff were the only ones she allowed to see her during those stark months. And then, not too many months later, she was killed, snuffed forever out of Auri's life.

Auri continued to sit for a few more minutes, trying to hold on to her mother's presence. But, like every time before, it floated away, and all she had left were memories and a vague feeling of warmth in her chest.

All of the questions that she had could only be answered by moving forward. It was finally time to see her home.

She stood, brushing the dirt off of her pants, and headed back toward the camp. She needed no visual markers to find her way back. The path that she walked back was instinctual, burned into her brain and senses with very little effort on her part. It had always been thus with her. As she didn't need to pay attention to her surroundings, she watched her boots crunch the pine needles beneath her feet, deep in thought.

When she entered the clearing, she noticed an unnatural stillness shimmering in the air. Her muscles tensed as she quickly looked up. There, sitting serenely and calmly, was a _huge_ white wolf. It sat in the very center of the clearing, looking directly at her, watching her . . . seemingly waiting for something.

She didn't want to wait around and discover what it was waiting for. Perhaps it was hungry and elf was a delicious dish.

She thought quickly and then inched her way slowly toward the knife in her other pack. The wolf whined and she stopped, all senses painfully alert. She watched it warily. It sat on its haunches in the exact same position, watching her with soft, sad, blue eyes.

This she had not expected. She didn't know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. Its eyes were so soft and the expression along its muzzle suggested hurt. As if her stretching for her knife was something that was impolite and potential grounds for a break in their friendship.

She deliberated for a long, tense moment and then shakily sunk to her knees. She was pretty good at reading human emotions. She hoped for her sake that she was just as good with wolves.

With a voice barely above a whisper, she called out to it. "I won't hurt you." She kept her hands at her sides, fisted against her fear. She wanted to laugh. The idea of her hurting the wolf was ludicrous. She didn't even know how to shoot an arrow for crying out loud!

She waited for the wolf to charge her, despite the sad look in its blue eyes. When nothing happened, her mind again began to churn. It was more than likely hungry. Weren't wolves _always_ hungry? The thought made her somewhat nervous. She slowly reached for her pack again and rummaged around for some dried meat. She brought the meat out and tried to hold it very still in her palm, face up. Her hands shook.

The wolf limped slowly forward and she frowned, nearly forgetting her fear in her concern. It was injured. Maybe Liran could help it. Her hand was a little steadier, and she was able to hold it out now without too much shaking. It limped slowly closer to her, its blue eyes holding a disarming mix of warmth and intelligence.

The wolf finally reached her, and gently, carefully, took the meat from her hand. It sat back on its haunches again and chewed, staring at her all the while. She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached carefully into her pack for more. A full wolf belly could only be a good thing. She smiled for the first time at her daring, feeling like she had aged a month in the last few minutes alone. Weren't elves supposed to be better at this sort of thing? One with nature and all that? She snorted. Perhaps it was another flaw in her human upbringing.

An amused voice sounded behind her. "I wondered where you'd gotten too. Now I see that you prefer the company of _this_ brute." Liran walked cautiously over to the wolf, and held out his hand. The wolf snuffled it for a moment then turned away and came limping back to Auri's side. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," Liran said dryly.

He glanced over at her. "It looks like you found a friend."

"More like he found me." She grimaced. "He sat here, waiting calmly for me to return from the stream. I thought he was going to attack me."

Liran nodded, suddenly avoiding her eyes. He piled the wood from his arms into the pit with stones, and went over to his pack. She followed his movements with suspicion. He was keeping something from her. . .

"Liran?"

"Yes?" His voice was overly casual.

"Why was there a white wolf waiting here for me?"

"I couldn't say."

"You couldn't say or you _won't_ say?"

He sighed. "Won't say. It's only a suspicion anyway." He finally met her eyes again. The expression in them was even more cautious than before.

She glared at him. His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Sorry."

"You don't _look_ sorry," she muttered under her breath. Her glance went back to the wolf still chewing the second handful of meat that she had given him. He looked like he was hurt in more places than just his paw. "He's hurt. Can you heal him?"

Liran quickly got the fire started then knelt gracefully by the wolf and slowly ran gentle fingers over his chest and torso. A bit of blood smeared onto his palm. "He's got a few deep gouges here." He pointed at the raw marks on the wolf's chest. "Nothing that I can't take care of."

He gave the same soft-touched examination to the rest of the wolf, finishing up with its right paw. "There's some blood here as well, but I believe it's mostly just been twisted wrong. I'll have to treat the cuts and gouge marks and then wrap this." He drew his pack close to him and started searching through it.

Taking a calming breath, she reached forward and stroked the wolf's white fur. She was surprised. It felt unlike any animal fur that she had ever felt before. It was silky, warm and plush. She trailed her fingers through its thick length, amazed by how long it was. About half a hand's length. Perhaps that was the reason for its silky texture. There was simply so _much_ of it.

The wolf put its nose into her palm and snuffled it. She smiled; his nose tickled. He bounded forward then, nearly knocking her over, and licked her face and neck until he had her laughing hysterically. He rolled around in the dirt with her, licking every spare inch of skin that he could find. "All right, enough!" she finally gasped. "It wasn't so long ago that I thought you were going to eat me." The wolf whined, looking very affronted, and she laughed again.

Liran came over to them, shaking his head and smiling bemusedly. "Could you get me some water? His cuts need to be washed first before I can put the ointment on and bind his paw." She nodded, laughing again as the wolf kept swiping his tongue over her face.

"I need to get something. I'll be right back," she told him as she gently pushed him away from her and rummaged in her pack for her silver drinking cup.

She only got a few paces down the path before a frantic canine yelp, a rough shout, and a loud crash sounded behind her. She spun around on her heels, took in the scene before her, and started to laugh.

Liran was flattened in the dirt. He had a half bewildered, half startled look on his face. The wolf was hurriedly limping after her. She chuckled again, hardly unable to stop herself, before she turned around and headed back toward the stream, this time with the wolf right on her heels. "Sorry, Liran. I think he prefers my company to yours. . ."

## 8

# The Gates of Bremgar

Nachal woke instantly. One moment he was sleeping, the next wide awake. His body jerked in pain even before his brain remembered why. Then it hit him, and he _did_ remember: ashes and soot, pain and loss. The pain of his body he could handle, but the pain in his heart. . . It clogged his throat. Tears ran down the sides of his face, dripping to the dirt.

He sighed and scrubbed at his face. It was one thing to train for a war that you knew was coming and another entirely to be out in it, seeing the effects, seeing the loss for yourself. There was no mercy in Obsidian's war against the Dragons of Light. No leniency. No honor. And that was something that he was just going to have to deal with because it wasn't going to change.

He rose slowly, giving his body time to adjust to his new position. His body ached. Pain throbbed down it, flaring intensely whenever he moved. He wasn't surprised—he had put it through a fifty foot drop, illness, and burns that covered what came close to a quarter of his skin, and all of that with precious little sleep. He was only surprised that he could still sit up at all. He panted as the pain slowly ebbed to a manageable level, and then he rose shakily.

His knees and legs stayed strong beneath him as he stood, adjusting his position again. He sighed, gasped as he reached for all of his things, and then groaned aloud as he straightened. When he had everything loaded and his water skins refilled, he walked away. Bremgar was many days west and then south; he needed to keep moving.

Days passed. He hunted when he ran low on food and foraged when he couldn't take the time to hunt. In summertime, there was always fruit and other edible plants that he could pick from and manage to stay fed. It wasn't a feast, but it worked. He found himself foraging more and hunting less. Time. It stalked him like _he_ was the prey, and he didn't want to waste it on things that he could easily do without.

His body was slowly healing. The burns and scrapes were scabbed over with new, shiny, pink skin. His ankle was better as well. It still wasn't completely sound, but it was definitely better. His heart, however, still burned with pain. It refused to heal.

His mind flashed between images of Auri in the dream and images of the town going up in flames and, somehow, inside of him, they felt like they were one and the same. He knew it wasn't true, but with every breath that exited and entered his chest, every second that ticked by, every day that passed, every night that he spent alone staring up at the stars, he felt her. She had burrowed into his heart and mind, into his whole life, and all without even trying.

Indeed, without even knowing.

Almost a fortnight passed. His ankle and body were now completely sound, so he had started running. When he stopped to rest at night, his mind churned, spewing things that he didn't want to think about anymore. They pummeled him again and again. Relentless. Persistent. Finally, he closed his eyes and dreamed. Of course he dreamed of her. . .

His eyes snapped open to darkness. His heart raced. He buried his hands in his hair, groaning as realization dawned. Just a dream. . . It was just a dream. . .

What was wrong with him? Why couldn't she just leave him alone? He wiped the wet from his face onto his shirt and started packing his things. He didn't care if it wasn't light yet. He couldn't just sit there in the dark and mourn a person he'd never met before. He refused.

Several days passed in monotony. The scenery had started to change a few days past. The forest had, for the most part, given way to grassy slopes and hills, dotted sparsely with rough-barked trees. He only had a few days more—by his estimations and by what he remembered of Dhurmic's long ago instructions—before he reached the entrance to Bremgar.

He half walked, half ran for another two endless days before he entered the pass through the Gimrothlen Peaks. Massive mountains stood like sentinels on either side of him, the tops of which he couldn't see. The mountains narrowed inward, squeezing the pass into just one solitary strip of land that sloped slowly and steadily downward.

He stopped as he suddenly saw it in the distance: Atgar Lake. And just past the lake were the Towers of Bremgar. He smiled tightly and jogged for the next few hours until he reached the water.

Atgar Lake was _massive_. It went on for miles and miles in either direction, as far as his eyes could see. The bridge to cross it was huge as well. Wide—probably thirty feet wide—it arched slightly up and then out of his range of sight.

He shook his head at the construct; only the dwarves could have made this. Only they had such skill with stone-crafting. He watched as his feet left the dirt path and trod down onto the first step of the bridge. He watched the step because he was expecting it. He wasn't disappointed. It felt like leaving the familiar, the relatively new, and stepping into the deepest annals of history. The pages that were never written because they were only told in story. In legend.

He felt the timelessness in the air all around him and from the water below him. It whispered to him, piercing the hollow emptiness that he had felt since he had left Tristan in ashes, awakening something precious inside of him: complete wonder.

He looked to his right and left and found massive statues, at least twenty feet high. One was of a Brulna Bear. It was made from a precious stone, brown in color, with striations of golden-yellow running through it. It towered over him as he stepped closer. It was menacing, mouth open wide, teeth bared, claws extended. He reached out to touch the base of it and found that it was smooth and cool to the touch. It looked so warm standing there, so vibrantly real and dangerous. He had almost expected it to _feel_ warm too. But it didn't; it was just stone after all.

He left the bear and crossed to the other statue at the entrance, and an entirely different feeling pierced him. This one was quieter, less menacing than the bear, but . . . more devastating. It was a white wolf, shivering on a plinth of snow.

His vision was pulled, sucked, to the wolf's eyes. They were a crystalline ice-blue. It was easy to see the pain in them, easy to see the loss. But what stood out to him the most in those ice-blue eyes was determination. Determination _despite_ pain. Determination _despite_ loss. Determination such as he himself had never experienced before. It made him feel paltry in comparison. Like a lesser being amongst immortals.

Something twisted inside of him. It felt like a door slamming shut. He shivered violently, unable to shake the feeling that it was exactly that: a door being shut inside of him, refusing him entrance because he was undeserving. As he walked away, he kept looking back. He passed many more statues—the whole length of the several miles of bridge had them—but none of them held his mind in thrall like the eyes of the white wolf. None of them even came close.

He couldn't guess what any of it meant. He only knew that he felt more here, aside from toward Auri, than he had in his entire life. There were so many things that he was feeling that it was hard to label just one. His feet traveled another mile in silence before he could bring his thoughts and feelings in line with one another.

One part of him, the soldier part, couldn't help but appreciate how utterly implacable their defenses were. They had impassable mountains on two sides, an ocean at their backs, and a deep lake at their front, a lake that covered the entire area with the only access by bridge. A bridge that _they_ controlled.

Another part of him felt the wonder of being this close to Bremgar. Bremgar was a closed kingdom, much like El`ness Nahrral. There were no stories of any human _ever_ entering its gates. No stories of anyone even coming close. So there was wonder inside of him as he looked around. This feeling of being able to see something, to look upon something, that no human ever had before.

Finally, there were the animals that lined the bridge: one animal really. He glanced back even though he knew he couldn't see it anymore. But if he closed his eyes it was still there, hounding him with its determination and focus, looking at him as though in disdain. As though it was asking a question that he didn't have the answer to; a question that he would _never_ have the answer to. It was a cold feeling, the not knowing. As cold as the snow that the wolf had stood on.

The cold feeling continued as he made his way down the several miles of stone bridge. The bridge ended suddenly, spilling onto a stone courtyard. Above him, two huge, stone doors rose vertically up to the sky, intimidating him with their sheer size. Above the gates, on each end, was a stone tower. And in each tower was a dwarf.

It was hard to see them from this far away. They stood like the statues on the bridge, still and silent. For a moment, he thought they _were_ like the statues on the bridge, only stone, but then one moved—a slight angling of his neck downward—and he felt fiery eyes pierce him where he stood.

"What business have ye with the dwarves? His voice was deep, like a bass drum, hard to understand because of his thick brogue, and very curt.

"I am seeking one from within your gates," Nachal called up to him. "His name is Dhurmic of the Clan Brulna. The matter is urgent."

The dwarf from the other tower spoke. "And how know we that ye will not attempt to slay him should ye meet with him?"

He was stumped. How did you prove that you had no harmful intentions to a race that was hostile to any but their own kind and expected hostility in return? You didn't. He began to pray silently. He _needed_ Dhurmic with him. For some reason, he felt like he couldn't pull this off without him. He wouldn't be able to get to Auri to save her.

"You don't," he said quietly. He looked up, trying to think. And then he did the only thing he could . . . he told them the story of how he and Dhurmic met. He told them about the pranks that they had pulled on each other, and the brawls that they always seemed to get into with each other. He told them about their life at The Hall for the two years and that they had practically been brothers. Mostly, he told them about Dhurmic's harrowing escapes. Dhurmic had always seemed to manage to offend _someone_ at least once a day. The result usually involved a hunt for his blood, and him narrowly escaping with his life. He was good at that sort of thing. That's why Nachal needed him.

He talked for probably an hour, and by the end, his voice was only a croak. A desperate croak, blathering everything and anything that might get him inside those gates. Maybe they would send for Dhurmic just to shut him up. . . Maybe they would come down and cleave his head open just to shut him up.

Finally, he fell silent. He looked up at the towers, maybe seventy-five feet up, and waited. And waited. It was like a staring contest with someone you couldn't see. Someone who had all the advantages. He barely breathed, barely blinked, barely moved for more than a quarter of an hour.

One of them had mercy in his soul. His deep bass voice held impatience. "I will send a runner ta the Thlen, human. Ye will wait outside the gates. If he shows, ye may enter. If he doesna, ye will not live to cross the bridge a second time."

Nachal swallowed. "Understood," he said. And then, because he was tired of looking up and tired of feeling like some mythical beings were looking down from their spires above on the poor race of humanity, he turned his back on them and went back over to the bridge.

At this end of the bridge were two more statues. He went over to study them, though not daring to touch them with the two dwarves watching his every move. The one on the right was a whale made out of a blue-green stone. It was massive, probably by far the largest of the animals on the bridge. Stone water was shooting out in an arc from atop its head. He went to the front of the beast to look at its eyes. Part of him knew that he was still searching for the reasons why he had been hit so hard by the wolf, but part of him was curious. All of these statues were intricately detailed. What exactly did a whale's eyes look like?

They looked small. Well . . . small in comparison.

He left the whale and walked over to the opposite side to see what looked like a mountain goat. The stone fur appeared shaggy and dirty. One of its horns was broken a little at the tip, as though it had butted one too many things with its head and the tip had finally splintered off. It was a goat, exactly as a goat should look . . . if it were real. Which it was _not_. It was actually kind of eerie, this amazing gift of the dwarves. They created life from stone. Was it any wonder that he felt so out of his depth?

He spent hours sitting there with his feet dangling over the side of the bridge. Hours trying to figure out what he was going to say to Dhurmic. Hours thinking about a girl whose face he had never seen. Hours mourning.

Life was infinitely precious, much more than he had ever understood. Each life held hours, days, and years of memories and experiences, of laughter and tears, of lessons learned and foolish daydreams, of _life_. And it was worthwhile. To have it cut short, stopped, was almost unbearable to him. The strangers that had already died in the wars past; the faceless ones that would die in the war that was now upon them. It hurt. But nothing hurt worse than Auri.

The elves were a cool race. They lived so long that it seemed as though the travails of the common humans no longer interested them. That's what he had always thought anyway. But Auri was different. From the first burst of burning lungs in his dreams to the last closing of her eyes, she was different. She wasn't ice, she was fire, and she stayed lit within his heart whether he wanted her there or not.

He didn't. At least that's what he told himself.

He could feel that the eyes of the dwarves never wavered from him as the hours passed. He could feel their flinty disapproval, their heat, from where he sat idly. What could be taking so long? Dhurmic had told him that the Clan Brulna worked the mines just to the right of the entrance to Bremgar, in the right chain of the Gimrothlen Mountains. The mines should only be an hour at most away. Why was it taking so long?

He rolled out his blanket, sat down on it, and ate. Another few hours rolled by and he ate again. What if Dhurmic wasn't here? What if he was further inland? He sighed. If Dhurmic wasn't here or was further inland, he was dead. It was as simple as that.

He pulled the map out and spent a few hours memorizing its features and landmasses. The sun set and still no Dhurmic. Night fell.

He lay down on his back with his hands piled behind his head and looked up at the stars. The only sound that carried to his ears was the sound of the wind whispering over the inky depths of the lake. It lulled him to sleep.

A few hours before dawn, the stillness of the night was rent with a gruff, angry shout. "Stand down, ye blithering statues, and open the gates!"

Nachal sat up with a jerk. And then he smiled.

## 9

# Bremgar

Tension bled out of him, tension that he had felt even in sleep. He hurriedly got up and gathered his things while Dhurmic's obnoxious words escalated into a shouting match. Dhurmic won. Of course. Nachal smiled. The doors opened a small width, small enough for a person to sneak through but not an army, and Dhurmic slipped through. He was glaring at the dwarves on the tower, shaking his head, and muttering under his breath. Then he saw Nachal, and his ruddy face lit up with a smile.

He looked the same as always. Auburn, brownish hair that was braided down his back, same color beard that hung down to the middle of his chest, black miner's pants with a shiny, silvery-black shirt, and a wide, black belt with all of his tools and other paraphernalia on it. Well, he looked mostly the same. There were lines around his eyes and they looked troubled. Worried.

"Nachal," Dhurmic said with a gruff voice, "are ye insane? Bremgar is on high alert. Those stoneheads up there were about to kill ye!"

"I wouldn't have come if it wasn't important. I need help."

Dhurmic looked at him in silence for a minute then sighed. "Aye, ye wouldna have. And the reason that ye would brave what is outside to come and see me is what has me worried."

"Can we talk privately? Is there somewhere we can go?"

"Aye. Follow."

He followed. As soon as they slipped through, the gates closed again with a bang of finality. He looked behind him at the tall, impenetrable doors and shivered. All of a sudden he felt very claustrophobic.

"Ye'll get out again."

"Alive? Because it's sort of important that I leave alive."

Dhurmic chuckled grimly. "I'll do my best."

"Good to know," Nachal murmured. Then he stopped dead. They had entered what looked to be a trading and commerce center. It was _enormous_. Vendors' stalls were set up in a large, neat circle with a huge fountain dominating the very center.

He walked toward the fountain almost in a trance. Here, the animals from the bridge were replicated in minute detail. All of them. They circled around, inhabiting a small divider between the outside wall of the fountain and the actual water itself. The whale was on the top tier; cascading, illuminated water exploded out of its blowhole and dripped down to the central part of the fountain.

He stuck his face between a goat and a red fox and looked down at the cause of the illumination. "Dhurmic," he said in astonishment, "there are glowing rocks in here."

Dhurmic chuckled behind him. "Aye. Lumacrystals."

He unstuck his head and turned to his friend. "Lumacrystals? I've never heard of them."

Dhurmic nodded. "Ye wouldna have. We mine them in the Thlen. They are a rare type of rock that absorbs sunlight. When darkness falls, the stone lights up from all of the stored energy within it." He gestured to tall, squared-off pillars around the circle. "Those are lumacrystals as well."

Nachal looked around. White pillars, a little taller than he was, lined the periphery of the circle. And sitting on each of them was a brilliant rose about the size of his head. Each one glowed with a light so perfect that, if it were daylight, it probably would have thrown rainbows across the sky. It was a white, crystal-clear light.

"Is it actually a stone or is it a crystal?"

Dhurmic shrugged. "It has properties of both."

Nachal turned to him. The white light from the rose pillar behind them lit up his face brilliantly. They studied each other in silence. "I want one."

Dhurmic nodded. "I'll bring ye back here on the morrow. A few vendors will be selling them."

They turned and crossed the rest of the commerce center in silence. Before they left the bright area behind, Nachal turned. He could almost picture what it would be like the next day. Children screeching, running madly about, chasing each other. Harried mothers hurrying after them. Others bartering and trading loudly. Food vendors' wares filling the center with tantalizing aromas. It was a welcome image. He looked forward to seeing how close the real experience was to his vision of it on the morrow. He turned around and followed Dhurmic into the darkness.

Their steps carried them into what looked like a cemetery. Only it didn't look like any dead were buried there. Instead, it was filled with statues of dwarves. About fifty of them stood on stone plinths within the surrounding pewter gates. Gnarled trees grew up and around them. In one instance a statue sat completely engulfed in a huge, twisted tree. The tree had split and grown around it, encasing it within its middle.

He turned to Dhurmic with a question in his eyes.

"This is the Garden of Masters," Dhurmic said quietly, almost reverently. "Those dwarves that have changed the course of history lie within. Their tombs are down deep below in a stone chamber. Their likenesses are graven on a statue that covers their resting place. To be entombed here is a symbol of high honor. Not even our kings are arbitrarily buried here. They must have done something extraordinary to be provided such a resting place. Honor isn't given around here, it's _earned_." His voice became hard, punching through his last word like fists in a fight.

They stared at one another for a minute. Finally, Nachal said, "You're different. You're angrier now, more cynical." His voice became quiet. "And it's something other than what's going on outside of Bremgar. What's wrong?"

Dhurmic shook his head in disgust and looked away from him. Silent. Nachal sighed and tried a different tactic.

"Why were you so late getting to the gate? Where were you?"

"I was mining stonesilk," Dhurmic muttered mulishly. "The stonesilk shafts are farther north than the others."

"Why were you working so far from the others?"

Silence.

Dhurmic continued to look mutinous as they cleared the Garden of Masters and began walking down a smooth stone fairway. Nachal looked down at the stone beneath his boots in amazement, distracted for the moment from Dhurmic's stubbornness. "You have stone on your streets," he said, nonplussed.

"Aye. 'Tis a major throughway. The stone is needful."

"Needful," Nachal muttered, shaking his head in admiration. "I wish others were as straightforward in their thinking."

They walked in silence down the street and turned down another. About half a mile down, against the backdrop of the Gimrothlen Mountains, was a large, four-story building. To say it was a building was probably doing it a disservice. It was actually closer to a castle. It was made out of the stone that the Brulna Bear along the bridge had been made out of, and in fact had a Brulna Bear statue sitting on a large plinth in front of it. Instead of torches along the parapets, there were brilliantly lit lumacrystals. No dwarves stood along the walkways. All was quiet.

"This is the Brulna Clan Hall," Dhurmic muttered quietly. "Along the back are the clan's quarters."

"You don't live inside?"

Dhurmic grunted. "Nay," he said simply.

They walked around and Nachal stopped. Squat, brown, smooth stone houses were built almost flush with the mountain face. Hundreds of them. His breath got all tangled up inside of his chest as he looked from the houses, up and up. The Gimrothlen Mountains towered over them, tall, imposing, and strong. He felt like a puny ant.

With Dhurmic leading the way, they walked for more than a half hour, until Dhurmic turned in and angled toward a particular door. Nachal stopped. "What happened to your house?" he asked in a garbled voice.

"What mean ye?"

"It's ugly." And it was. He had gotten used to seeing smooth stone during the past half hour but it wasn't smooth here. It was rough, and looked as though it had been cobbled together by a blind man. A blind, inept man.

"I like it better this way," Dhurmic replied almost loftily. "It has more character."

"Sure," Nachal said under his breath. "But I bet that's _all_ it has."

The inside of the house was neat, but sparse. They walked through the entrance area, through a long corridor, and then left to the kitchen. The room was lit withlLumacrystals dangling from the ceiling in what looked like a circular, metal candelabra. A large hearth sat at one end. In front of it was a large pair of benches and a wooden table. Everything else was clean, with no food in sight.

Not that he wanted food right now. He had eaten so much at the gates that he didn't think he could eat anything more for at least a day. Dhurmic settled his broad frame onto one of the benches and looked up at him. His eyes were tired and angry.

"Need ye any food?"

"No. I'm alright."

Silence as they stared over the table at each other. Finally, as the silence seemed like it would go on indefinitely, Dhurmic growled in frustration. "Do I need to pull it out of ye? Spit it out, lad! Why are ye here?"

Nachal sighed, running blunt fingers through his dirty hair. He had no idea where to start. Dhurmic seemed to read his mind.

"Start at the beginning," he ordered in a gentler voice.

Nachal nodded wearily, and started talking. He told him everything: The dreams and what he saw in them; Cerralys's feeling that time was running out, and that the elf was vital to their survival. Finally, haltingly, he told him of Tristan and the utter destruction that he had left behind. The bodies. He even told him about the little girl's hand that he had held, and the brightly lit funeral pyre. He left nothing out. When he got to the end, his words just sort of stumbled to a halt ungracefully.

He looked down at his hands and closed his eyes. The kitchen was very quiet.

Dhurmic sighed again and rose. He poured some water from a pitcher into a blue, stone cup. "Here," he said. "You look like you need something to do with your hands."

"Thanks," Nachal murmured. Only Dhurmic would know him well enough to know that. With his fingers gripping the cup tightly, he looked up. Dhurmic was standing at an open door, looking out. His stocky arms were crossed over his chest. He looked preoccupied.

"Ye need me help to find her, is that it?"

Nachal shook his head. "I have a map to find El`ness Nahrral. That's not the problem."

Dhurmic turned to him with a look of incredulity. Nachal smiled wearily. "I know. The old one's past is thick with secrets."

"Aye," Dhurmic breathed in astonishment. Then he was all business again. "Then ye must need me to guard yer back."

"That too," Nachal agreed with a grimace. "But I also need your uncanny ability to avoid getting yourself skewered."

Dhurmic preened for a moment, and Nachal laughed. They grinned at each other, and all of the barriers came down. Dhurmic sat down with a grunt. He sighed as he reached over and grabbed the blue cup that Nachal was just twirling around and around in his hands, draining every last drop.

Nachal looked down into the empty depths of the vessel as Dhurmic passed it back. "Thanks, Dhurmic," he muttered sarcastically. "What if I had really wanted that?"

Dhurmic waved his thick hand negligently. "Plenty more."

Suddenly, Nachal was bone-weary. He scrubbed at his face, at his dry, gritty eyes, and then looked across again at Dhurmic. He couldn't even summon the energy to worry over the calculating look in the dwarf's eyes.

"Sleep," Dhurmic grunted suddenly. He got up, and started shoving him back down the corridor and up a flight of stairs. Nachal went with only half-hearted protests. They slurred together, probably sounding like meaningless babble to the alive and better rested. They reached a doorway that Dhurmic nudged open with a wide boot. "Sleep here," he said, dropping everything from his arms into Nachal's.

Nachal looked down in surprise to find his sword, bow and arrow, and pack there. He didn't remember taking them off.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Dhurmic sighed. "Get some sleep, lad. Yer speech is getting more garbled by the minute."

Nachal nudged the door shut with his boot. Well, slammed it really. He turned back toward the room and looked for a place to dump the things in his arms. There wasn't any. There was the bed—which he planned to be using in less than a minute—and the floor.

"Needs more furniture," he mumbled, as he dumped the lot onto the floor with a loud clatter. He kicked his boots off, and sank into a bed that seemed—after many long nights on the ground—to be solely made of clouds. He was asleep within moments.

He awoke to strong afternoon sunlight pouring in through an open window and Dhurmic hammering on his door. "We need ta make some plans, ye lazy lad! Get out of bed and meet me in mine kitchen!"

Nachal pulled the pillow over his head and groaned then he sat up and stared around him. The room was just like the house: uncluttered to the point of near vacancy. He muttered to himself as he reached for his boots and started lacing them up.

Downstairs, Dhurmic was pacing. "Food," he barked, gesturing to a side table with a few offerings. Nachal filled the same blue, stone cup from last night with water and sat down.

"Not hungry yet. I ate too much last night."

Dhurmic paused in his pacing to look over at him. "Ye've been eating too much for quite a while," he said flatly. "Ye've gone to fat."

Nachal snorted into his water. If there was one place he wasn't going, it was to fat. He laughed at the ridiculous image in his mind, and drained the water in one pull. "Never heard of it," he answered with a slight smile. "Is it located around here?"

Dhurmic's lips twitched. He shook his head and resumed pacing. Nachal got tired just watching him. "Sit," he ordered. "You're making me dizzy."

Dhurmic ignored him. Like always. "We need some supplies," he growled. His flinty eyes pinned him. "Have ye any coin?"

Nachal smiled languidly. "I have enough."

Dhurmic shook his head in disgust and resumed pacing, muttering something derisive under his breath.

"Sleep has improved you I see," Nachal said with a grimace.

Dhurmic glared at him.

"Sit," Nachal ordered. "Speak."

A water pitcher sailed over his head, and crashed against the wall. He flinched from the spray of water. Tiny shards of pottery embedded themselves in his skin and hair. He growled, picking them out carefully. "If you don't tell me what's wrong," he said grimly, "I'm going to take my sword and beat you over the head with it."

"Hah," Dhurmic snorted. "Ye can't catch me."

Nachal looked up. His face was deadly serious. "Would you like to test that theory?" he said silkily.

"Oh, stow it," Dhurmic growled. "Yer intimidation doesna work on me."

Nachal folded his arms over his chest, sat with his back leaning against the wall, and waited.

Dhurmic glared at him. "Ye've been around too many dragons."

"They are exceptionally patient," he agreed.

Dhurmic looked away from him and sighed wearily. It was probably all the pacing, Nachal thought with mirthless humor. He watched warily as Dhurmic walked over to the side door and stared out at the Clan Hall.

"I need ta get away fer a while."

"Why?"

Dhurmic chuckled grimly. "Ye'll see tomorrow."

"I want to see _now_!" Nachal all but shouted. The thin patience that he had been holding on to was now gone. He would never make a good dragon. Good thing he was human. "Tell me what's going on."

Dhurmic flinched but continued staring moodily out the door. "I fell in love with the Bremgarian Princess," he said finally. Quietly.

Nachal sighed, closing his eyes. "Does she love you as well?"

"Aye. She loves me as well."

Nachal rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the stubble there. He hadn't shaved in a while. "Has your clan ostracized you?"

"They wouldna dare," Dhurmic spat. "Nay, they just enjoy making me life miserable."

"Dhurmic," Nachal said quietly, gently, "you know she can't marry you. You have no title."

Dhurmic spun around, his face livid. "Don't ye think I dinna know that?" he shouted. He grabbed another pitcher and it too sailed over Nachal's head, shattering with a wet crash. He didn't even flinch this time. "Don't ye think I—" Dhurmic sank against the door post, and put his face in his hands.

Nachal's eyes burned as he got up and went to crouch in front of his friend. "Dhurmic? The Garden of Masters. If you earn a spot there in life, does that give you a title?"

"Nay," Dhurmic said, lifting his red-rimmed eyes up toward Nachal's face. "It makes me the next king."

"King is a title," Nachal argued logically.

"Nay, 'tis not. 'Tis above the royal branches in a place all its own."

"What if you could do it? What if you could earn a spot there? Would you be able to marry—what's her name?"

"Reshna."

"Would you be able to marry Reshna?"

"Aye," Dhurmic sighed. "But 'tis nearly impossible."

" _Nearly_ impossible, not impossible."

He watched as hope—faint, nearly impossible hope—entered Dhurmic's eyes. He stood and offered him his hand. Dhurmic clasped it roughly as he got to his feet.

"Let's get some supplies," they said together. Dhurmic shook his head, his lips twitching suspiciously. Nachal laughed.

"Great minds think alike."

"Better minds steal their friend's gold," Dhurmic said with his hand held out. "Hand it over. Ye can't bargain to save yer life."

Nachal frowned but dug his gold pouch out of his pack and handed it over. "I need that to last me," he warned.

"Aye," Dhurmic agreed. "That's why it's better in me hands, and not yers."

Nachal scowled darkly at his retreating back.

The commerce center was just as he had envisioned it. Almost exactly so. There were so many dwarves there that he had to carefully watch his step, lest he should inadvertently knock someone over. They had many varied clothes with many varied looks. Their hair ran the color scale from brown to black to red. A few had dark blond hair, but those were rare.

The men had varying lengths of beards. Some were tucked neatly into their wide belts, others were braided or hanging loosely down their chest. The women, he could see, were easily distinguishable. They wore dresses for one and had much more delicate features as well. All of them had long hair that flowed down their backs. They didn't look soft, not by anyone's standards, but neither were they as hard and muscled as the men.

The clothes distinguished which clan a dwarf was from. The clans—he knew from Dhurmic—all had distinct jobs within Bremgar. Some were fisherman, herdsman, and farmers. Others were miners, guardsmen, healers, and so forth. Dhurmic's clan—the Brulna Clan—all wore the same clothes that Dhurmic wore—black boots, shimmering, silver-black shirt with black breeches, and a wider belt than all of the others because of the many tools that they carried on it. Even the women's dresses were color matched.

It seemed to make things easier because, as he looked around, he noticed that certain clans bartered at certain stalls. A small etching of the clan's animal was chiseled at the top of each vending stall. Dhurmic bartered only at the ones that supported his clan, and Nachal could see that his clan was probably by far the largest. The other clans had a few stalls here and there, but the Brulna Clan seemed to commandeer most of the trading center.

He glanced around, and then glanced back as something caught the periphery of his vision. Dhurmic was shouting into someone's face, completely livid. The owner of the stall sat relaxed in a chair, staring up at the red-faced Dhurmic above him.

He smiled casually and said something.

Dhurmic went for his throat.

Nachal sprinted.

"Let him go," Nachal panted. The dwarf was turning purple, his eyes were bulged, and he was clutching uselessly at Dhurmic's fingers. Dhurmic ignored him—like always. His voice grew quieter, which was an easy thing to do considering that the whole commerce center had gone perfectly still. "Dhurmic, it's not worth it. Let him go."

Dhurmic's large hands reluctantly released the other dwarf's neck. The dwarf collapsed back down to his chair, gasping and holding on to his neck tenderly as air flowed through it once again.

"Ye may say what ye will about me, but dinna ever let me hear ye speak against her again. She is yer princess, and will one day be yer queen." He picked up the supplies that he had dropped and walked away, throwing a last parting shot over his shoulder. "I need me supplies by sundown. Ye know where I live."

"An enemy," Nachal guessed once they had cleared some distance.

"Nay." Dhurmic's voice was quiet. "He used ta be a friend." He looked around to the silent, frozen dwarves that surrounded them and glared. The huge area suddenly came back to life. Dwarves moved closer to each other and spoke in lowered voices, glancing over at Dhurmic from the corner of their eyes and nodding. Children who didn't know any better just stood where they had frozen and stared. Gossip ran through the crowd like trickling water.

Dhurmic snorted in disgust as he tried to drag Nachal out of the huge area. Nachal resisted. "I need some lumacrystals," he protested. "Will they sell to me?"

"They'd better," Dhurmic said grimly. He stalked over to a stall that displayed all of the various clan animals above it in faint etchings. The dwarf in the stall was quiet. His eyes were respectful. Dhurmic gestured down at the huge display resting atop fine, black velvet. "Get more than one. They never grow dim, but if ye break one ye won't be able to replace it easily."

"I won't be able to replace it _ever_ ," Nachal corrected quietly, trying to decide what he wanted. He finally decided on one in the shape of a dolphin and another that was a smaller version of the roses that circled the commerce center. Each one fit snuggly in the size of his palm.

He paid the price that the dwarf asked, and heard Dhurmic sigh beside him. "What?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Lack of brains and money dinna go well together."

Nachal looked down at the dwarf in the stall. "I think I've just been insulted."

The dwarf's green-flecked eyes twinkled.

"See," Dhurmic called, walking away swiftly in disgust, "if ye had brains, ye would _know_ that ye've just been insulted."

Nachal thanked the now laughing dwarf for his purchases, and ran to catch up with Dhurmic, who was by now almost clear of the commerce center.

"I remember when you used to be cheerful," he remarked idly. They made their way past the Garden of Masters and onto the stone street behind it.

"I'm always cheerful," Dhurmic replied.

Nachal stopped and stared at him in astonishment. Then he started to laugh. He laughed so hard and for so long that he ended up doubled over, trying to hold on to his slipping purchases. Tears streamed down his face.

Dhurmic rammed him in the stomach with his head. Nachal's breath left him with a grunt, and all of his things went flying. They grappled with each other for several long minutes, trying to get the best of each other, until, finally, Nachal pinned him.

Dhurmic didn't even hesitate before he head-butted him in the nose; blood started spurting out. It was broken; he could feel it. He rolled over onto his back and pinched it to stem the flow. "Why'd you do that, you great, ugly fiend? I've never had my nose broken before. It will mar my good looks." His words sounded stuffy and whiny. Dhurmic snorted at him and started picking up the supplies.

"Ye were getting annoying." His tone of voice was condescendingly indifferent; the fight just a tussle between brothers.

Nachal spit blood out of his mouth and hoisted himself to his feet. "Fine, but _you_ carry the supplies."

"Jest walk. Yer bleedin' all over the stone walkway."

"You're all heart," Nachal growled.

## 10

# Unexpected

They traveled swiftly, barely stopping to rest the several long days and nights that it took them to get there. Dhurmic growled a lot under his breath and gave Nachal a lot of dirty looks, but he rarely openly complained. He just tried to keep up. They entered Tulenoss just as the sun was setting on the eighth day.

Nachal stopped suddenly, holding a hand out to keep Dhurmic from barreling into him. "Are we at the right place?" he asked in confusion.

"Aye, of course," Dhurmic said. "I've been here before." He drew level with Nachal and they both looked down at the seaport spread below them. At the _empty_ seaport spread below them. Small fishing trolleys were bobbing in the calm, deep blue waters outside of the harbor, but no larger ships could be seen, and none were docked at port. The town itself was sprawling, huge avenues of shops and commerce centers, dotted with small, one-story stone houses glimmering in the near dusk.

"Why is it so empty then? Was it like this the last time you were here?"

Dhurmic shook his head somberly. "Nay," he said quietly. "It wasna. Let's go down and hav' a look."

They came down the wide path of the hillside to the base of the town and entered its quiet, somnolent atmosphere cautiously. There should have been at least a few shops open at this time of day, but there weren't. Every single one of them was locked up tight. The only light from the town came from the illuminated houses and a mass of lanterns that were lit down by the empty docks.

Something was wrong.

"Let's find an inn for the night," Nachal said quietly. Dhurmic nodded. They walked until they found one, tucked into a small corner just down the path from the wharf. The outside was large, probably encompassing half a block or so, and the inn itself looked to be three stories tall. A sign over the door read _Water's Edge Inn_.

Nachal tried to push the door open, but it wouldn't budge. He looked over at Dhurmic, who looked back at him with tight, wary eyes. What inn locked its doors at night?

Dhurmic banged his heavy fist against the door, rattling it in its hinges and startling Nachal. He lifted his hand to bang again when the door suddenly flew open. An older woman stood at the threshold. She had steel-colored hair tied back in a bun, shrewd, green eyes, and a sword pointed at Nachal's throat.

He put his hands up and tried to be as still as possible. "We aren't here to hurt you," he said quietly.

"Here now, mistress," Dhurmic said gruffly. "We willna harm ye. Take the sword from his throat."

She eyed Dhurmic while keeping the sword carefully poised at Nachal's throat. "A dwarf," she muttered under her breath. In a normal voice she said, "I've heard the like before. Desperate people in desperate times."

"We will not harm you," Nachal said softly. "I promise."

Finally, the sword lowered, though she cautiously kept her guard. Nachal sighed in weariness and wiped the trickle of blood running down his throat. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You can come in," she said reluctantly. "The only reason I'm willing to trust you for the moment is because you travel with a dwarf. Dwarves are not known to be traitors."

Dhurmic's chest nearly puffed out of his shirt, and he gave Nachal a lazy smirk. Nachal sighed again. "Madam, I am grateful for the chance, but if you continue to stroke his ego, he will become even more difficult to live with than he currently is."

Dhurmic glared and shoved him. Nachal grunted. He turned his attention back to the proprietress. "Do you have rooms available?"

She nodded as she moved deeper into the room. "I didn't say I liked dwarves. I said they were less likely to be traitors." She reached down under the counter of the bar and brought out a large, cream-colored ledger. She flipped through the pages quickly until she found an empty page and then scribbled something on a fresh line in neat, regimented handwriting. "Don't much like elves either," she muttered under her breath.

Nachal's heart seized, but Dhurmic only laughed softly. "Do ye like anyone, mistress?"

She looked up from the ledger in surprise then her green eyes went flat. "Aye, dwarf. I like humans. Unfortunately, nearly the whole lot of them are useless."

Dhurmic laughed loudly. Nachal smiled and shook his head as he handed over the amount that she demanded for the rooms. Dhurmic stopped laughing abruptly. Nachal's smile grew broader. If there was one way to shut him up, it was by paying full price for something. He winked at the woman. "He hates it when I don't haggle."

Her eyes lost some of their steely look, her mouth softening slightly around the corners. "You should listen to him, young one. Dwarves are canny traders and merchants."

The woman put the money into a pocket in her apron and began leading them around. Her voice was brisk. The main floor of the inn was divided into three main areas, the kitchens—which were housed behind a swinging wooden door—and the bar and dining area. The bar was small and occupied only a fraction of the large room. The dining area was much larger.

"I don't serve many drinks these days, but if you'd like something I can try to accommodate you. What I do serve plenty of is good food." She turned and eyed them. "People come from all over just to taste what I create in those kitchens. You should count yourselves lucky to eat here. I don't take orders. You get what I decide I'm making for that day. Understood?"

They both nodded solemnly, looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes and fighting a smile. She saw this and shook her head in disgust. "This is obviously the dining area," she said dismissively. The dining area had booths flush against the wall, and several wooden tables set artistically around the remaining space. Lanterns hung along the wall next to each booth, and smokeless, beeswax candles lit the tables. Each booth and table sat empty, despite the early hour.

She led them up two flights of stairs to the third floor landing, opened a door, and waved them forward. "This is the bathing chamber. I bring fresh, warm water up twice a day. If you want to bathe, that would be the best time. If you haul it up yourself, I won't charge you for it. If you make my old bones do it for you, I'll charge you plenty." She indicated another tub and several smaller tubs. "Those tubs are for any clothing you have that needs to be washed. I can do that for you too, but I'll charge more than you probably make in a lifetime." She turned to Dhurmic absently. "Except maybe your lifetime, dwarf." She shook her head, muttering under her breath again something that sounded suspiciously like, "I hate laundry."

"Do ye like yer occupation, mistress?"

"What makes you think I don't like it?" she snapped.

Dhurmic looked at Nachal and winked. "Just a guess," he said with a straight face. Nachal shook his head. Dhurmic seemed to be most in his element among those who spoke bluntly. A consequence of living within Bremgar's borders for too long.

The woman ignored him, stepping around him as she continued. "The bathing area is the only thing on this level of the inn. If you take the third set of stairs up"—she indicated with her hand—"you'll find yourself on the roof."

Dhurmic had to ask. Nachal watched the question bubbling behind his eyes and then finding its way to his tongue. He sighed.

"Why would ye need to be on the roof?" Dhurmic asked, stroking his beard in thought.

The woman flattened him with a look. "Some people find it nice to go up there and think."

Dhurmic smiled. "Ye won't be findin' _me_ there then."

The woman turned abruptly and led them back down the stairs to the second floor. Nachal stuck a foot out to casually trip Dhurmic, who shoved him back hard, avoiding the outstretched leg with alarming grace.

"This is where all the rooms are," the woman said, ignoring them completely. "All of the rooms are along this wall to the right and left of the stairs, and each faces the ocean." She pointed to her left. "Two of those rooms are currently taken, so you and the dwarf may have two along the right side."

Dhurmic elbowed his way past Nachal until he was right next to the woman. "The dwarf's name is Dhurmic," he said gruffly, his eyes twinkling.

"I don't care," she said curtly. "Haven't I made that clear yet?"

Dhurmic blinked, startled, then he winked at Nachal. "I think I'm in love."

The woman snorted, and Nachal rolled his eyes. He didn't bother trying to tell her _his_ name. Besides, his name was probably a little more well-known than Dhurmic's.

She opened the first door, Dhurmic's room, and nodded for him to step in and look around. He didn't bother. He dumped all of his belongings on the bed and shut the door in their faces. The woman opened another door to the right of Dhurmic's and motioned for Nachal to enter. He gave it a cursory glance before he turned back to the figure just outside of his doorway. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

She nodded. "Breakfast is served early. If it runs out, I don't make more so you're on your own." With that, she closed the door firmly, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He dumped all of his things on a light-grained pine chair, and looked around the room. Wooden floors, deep green curtains and quilt, and various pieces of tasteful furniture were scattered throughout the small, clean space. There was a soft scent in the air . . . almost like orange oil mixed with the faint hint of the sea. The window was open, making the curtain billow slightly with each light gust of ocean-misted air. He strode to the window and stared out to the sea for a few minutes.

Night had fallen and with it an unnatural stillness. He laid his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes. Was she safe? Was he already too late?

He lifted his head and slammed the window closed. He couldn't sleep; he was too wound up. He needed out of this room, and he needed it _now_. He left the knives down his boots in place, getting rid of everything else, and strode for the door. He closed it with a soft click behind him and looked down the hall. All of the doors down the left and right side were closed firmly; the inn's other occupants probably already asleep.

He looked up the staircase, remembering the innkeeper's instructions regarding the top floor, and decided it might be a good place to have a bird's-eye view of the town. His boots were whisper quiet on the stairs as he made his way up. There was a simple wooden door at the top.

He opened it.

There was someone already there.

A figure sat at one of the tables, cloaked in the deepest darkness available on the rooftop. They wore a hooded cloak that was pulled over their head, concealing their face. The figure turned, and Nachal sucked in a silent, surprised breath.

The eyes weren't human. He wasn't sure _what_ they were, but they definitely weren't human. Dragon? Elf?

The eyes delved into his, searching and sifting as though they could see straight to his soul. He stood stiffly, hands fisted at his sides. Waiting. After a few moments, the figure nodded, a slight movement of their head, and then turned back toward the view of the Sea of Mists.

Nachal let out the breath that he had forgotten he had been holding and stepped out cautiously toward the ledge. Three stories gaped in the darkness beneath him. It wasn't much as far as heights went, but it was enough to make his palms turn sweaty, and a sick, roiling feeling enter his gut. He kept the silent figure in the cloak in his peripheral vision and backed off from the ledge a little. When he could only see out across the sea, and not down to the nauseating drop below, he stopped.

He studied the stranger with the burning, golden-amber eyes unobtrusively. It wasn't so much the eyes as it was the intensity, and it wasn't so much the intensity as it was the knowledge behind it. Cerralys was the only being he had ever met that could lay you bare like that. More than just standing unclothed in front of gawkers. More than having inner secrets revealed. It was soul deep. A look of understanding. A look of more awareness than any being should have. Ever.

He hated the feeling of being exposed.

He looked across at the waters and tried to put the cloaked figure to a corner of his mind. An aware corner, but a corner nonetheless.

His frustration had been silently mounting as he and Dhurmic had walked through the port town, and now here, finally, he looked out at the empty waters, and acknowledged something—he was in serious trouble.

How was he going to find Auri if there were no ships to take him to her land?

The cloaked stranger stiffened, and suddenly the intensity radiating outward from him increased a hundredfold. Nachal turned toward the being warily. The being stared at him, strange, golden-amber eyes blazing, body tense.

And then things got surreal. . .

"What do you want?" The being demanded in a hard, damaged voice.

He found himself—for some reason—answering candidly. "I'm trying to find someone."

"Are they a friend?"

Nachal shook his head and looked down. Did the eyes somehow affect him, mess with his mind? Still, he found himself unable to answer that question without pain. He _couldn't_ answer. The pain lodged in his chest, in his throat, behind his burning eyes. He ignored the being and faced the ocean, trying to get control of himself.

The stranger got up, and from the build he could tell that it was male. He moved to the edge of the roof with unnatural grace, and stared straight down. Nachal couldn't, wouldn't, so he watched _him_ instead. His eyes were luminescent. They swung toward him and Nachal's breath stopped in his chest.

"Yes," he finally answered. "To me she is."

The being nodded. Something flashed quickly through his burning eyes and then was concealed. He looked back down at the drop below. "You are from Eldaria," he said quietly.

Nachal shivered then found himself nodding. The things happening were too much like a dream. He wondered if he was even awake or whether this was some new, weird twist to the familiar nightmares.

"Eldaria, land of dragons and men. Men who fight for survival now."

"Dragons who fight for survival as well," Nachal said with a rough catch in his voice.

The burning eyes swung back to him. "Perhaps," he allowed then looked away again. "Perhaps. You have the smell of a dragon, but not the mind of one."

"I am dragon-friend."

"Dragon-friend?" the being asked with a sharp twist of his lips. "A human?"

"Always," Nachal bit out grimly.

A sardonic twist of the stranger's lips. His eyes turned cold. Glacial. Before they had burned with a heat so intense, radiance so bright that it hurt to look at them, but now the heat was gone, and in its place was ice. "What if you do not find her, this person whom you seek?"

The cold from the stranger's eyes pierced Nachal's chest. He staggered, coming perilously close to toppling from the ledge, but caught himself. The stranger made no move to catch him, just continued to gaze at him intently.

Nachal finally looked down. The height made him dizzy, but the question took his breath completely away. It made his mind spin in impossible tangles, whirling around and around, until one thought landed, refusing to be blown away with the rest. He had one hand flat on the ground for support. One knee was touching the roof, the other was nearly so. He looked up, meeting the intent eyes of the stranger. "Then it wouldn't matter that I'd die, not when you compare the death of one with the deaths of many."

The being looked surprised. "She has this power?" he rasped.

Nachal looked down. He dizzily pushed up off the roof to stand again. "Over me she has all power." He started to walk away. At the door he stopped, unable to look at the radiance of the being behind him. "Over the world?" He shook his head. "I just don't know." He opened the door and walked on hollow legs to his room.

He laid on his bed fully clothed, curled up on his side, and stared out the window that he'd opened again. The curtains billowed, catching the air like a sail. He watched them dully, thinking of her. _Always_ thinking of her.

When he awoke, he noticed a single slip of parchment that had been shoved beneath his door. He sat up and stared at it, suddenly knowing without a doubt who the letter had come from.

The being with the golden-amber eyes.

He got up slowly, walked over, and leaned down to pick it up. It contained four lines of elegant, bold script.

> _Years bleed together until all of time runs in a constant lifeless eternity. It cannot be shrouded or taken away, only endured. Someone to care for makes the endurance lighter, even almost majestic in purpose. Care for the flame within you well._
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Liran_

He sat down on the floor, holding the paper delicately and looking down at it in confusion. He was still sitting there, trying to make sense of it, when Dhurmic knocked. He got up quickly, hiding the paper behind his back, and answered the door.

"Are ye coming down for breakfast?"

Nachal stared at him, trying to make his brain unscramble. "Breakfast? No. I don't think I will. I'm going to get cleaned up. I'll meet you later."

Dhurmic nodded and disappeared down the stairs. Nachal closed the door and leaned against it, staring down at the note. Finally, he shook his head, stowed it with the map inside of the book, grabbed all of his dirty clothes and went quietly upstairs to the bathing chamber.

That night, a deep, gonging bell sounded the arrival of a ship.

Nachal scrambled out of bed and skidded to a stop in front of his window. What he saw made his eyes go wide. In the protected cove of the bay lay a ship. A huge merchant ship. Its sails tacked, its hull gleaming. A perfect, sound ship. He gripped the wooden window-frame fiercely, his nails leaving gouges.

In that ship was his salvation.

People came in droves to the docks until hundreds of them stood there, waiting for the lone figure coming ashore in a dark-wooded skiff. Some stood quietly on the edges of the crowd, weeping into their hands. Others surged forward as the captain touched down, angrily demanding information.

The door opened noiselessly behind him, and footsteps quietly trod across the wooden floor. He turned to see Dhurmic walk in with all of his gear loaded on his back. His face was grim, his black eyes tight. He came to stand beside him and they looked down upon the scene below in silence.

After a few minutes, Dhurmic nudged him. "Look," he whispered roughly. He pointed to the dark, shadowy waters and to a smaller vessel that had just pulled alongside the larger merchant craft.

Nachal squinted. A cloaked figure sat in the small boat, waiting for another to climb the ladder and board the ship. The figure climbing the rungs had black hair that whipped freely in the wind about their shoulders, and they were slight of build. A woman. He looked back toward the cloaked figure, feeling its eyes upon him.

Even across the distance, he could see that the golden-amber eyes were alight. They burned into him, willing him to understand . . . something. . .

Nachal's entire body went suddenly, utterly still. He knew what the figure was trying to tell him. He turned to Dhurmic with fierce determination in his eyes and in his voice. "We _need_ to get on that ship."

## 11

# Stowaways

They snuck on board in bare feet, with dripping, sopping clothes. Their boots were in the packs that they had been forced to hold above water as they swam. The map was safe. That was all that mattered.

They paused, listening intently for any sound on their side of the craft, but finding none. Nachal moved forward first, but Dhurmic stopped him with a hand held out. "Me hearing and sight are better," he whispered. Nachal nodded, and Dhurmic led the way, stealthily creeping, keeping to the darkest shadows of the ship.

The planks beneath their feet groaned at the slightest touch, but the night was still around them, concealing them in its thick folds. The wind gusted, flattening Nachal's dark clothes against his body and plastering his cold, wet hair against his head.

Dhurmic led them to mid-ship, put a finger to his lips and pointed. The entire crew was gathered at the prow of the vessel, staring silently toward the shore, watching the scene unfolding on the docks with tense expressions. Dhurmic kneeled on the deck, and slowly lifted a hatch. Nachal watched the figures at the prow. No one turned. They were immersed in the drama on the shore.

Dhurmic eased himself onto the first rung of the ladder, and slowly made his way down into the darkness below. Nachal followed, closing the hatch door quietly above him and descending. He could hear the sound of Dhurmic breathing, but nothing else. He looked down. Dhurmic had paused, still and silent, listening hard. He looked up at him and nodded then lightly dropped down to the first level. The crew quarters.

They bypassed these cautiously, sweeping their eyes across the small rooms as they passed by. They eventually came to another hatch, which Dhurmic quickly opened and started down. Nachal closed this hatch too and descended after him.

It was a lot darker down this one. The further they descended the thicker the blackness became until, finally, he couldn't even see his hands gripping the rung of the ladder anymore. He paused, reaching down with a tentative foot to find the next rung down. His hands—to his intense relief—found it easier to judge. Grip tightly. Release. Grip tightly. Release. The ladder seemed to go down forever.

Light flared and he froze, looking down in alarm. Dhurmic's pale face looked back up at him. "S' alright," he said quietly. "Jus' me." He held a spiral lumacrystal stick up above his head, guiding the light toward Nachal so that he could make his way down to join him. Nachal reached the last rung and dropped silently to the floor. He drew one of his own lumacrystals out, and they both turned and surveyed the illuminated black of the hold.

"This is home for a while," he whispered. Dhurmic grunted.

The first few days were maddeningly tense. He kept expecting Liran—the elf with the golden-amber eyes—to lead the others to him. But the days went by and no one came to drag them from their hiding place. It didn't make him relax. In fact, it had the opposite effect. What was the elf's game?

At the far end of the hold was their perfect hiding place. The hold itself was stacked high with crates and sacks of goods, creating orderly little walkways. But in the far corner, the crates created a deep pocket of obscurity. That's where he and Dhurmic slept and ate.

They had both explored the goods for the first couple of days, and found the things that a normal merchant ship might carry: cloth, spices, food. The last was a necessity. He felt bad about stealing from the supplies, but the longer they stayed down here the better it would be. So they picked lightly from the food crates, making sure that their pilfering went unnoticed, drank from a water barrel that they dragged to their corner, slept with their blankets on the hard planks beneath them, and generally got annoyed with each other. Two people—a dwarf and a human—trapped in the dark confines of a ship's hold with nothing to do was an experiment he wouldn't care to try again.

It was day five out at sea. Dhurmic was sitting beside him, sharpening his axe, while Nachal was reading. It was a testament to how bored he was. The letters on the page started to swim as his eyes got heavy, lulled by the gentle motions of the ship. He jerked awake when Dhurmic hissed, tugging on his sleeve.

They quickly grabbed their lumacrystals and shoved them under their blankets then cleaned up the few things they had out and snuck around behind the crates that were almost shoved against the farthest wall of the hold.

Sailors came in and out for a while, tromping around and laughing, grabbing fresh supplies and taking them topside. Nachal barely breathed the whole time.

When they finally left, he and Dhurmic dug under the blankets to retrieve their lumacrystals then looked across the small space at each other. "That was close," Nachal breathed.

Dhurmic's face went red. "Ye must have melons in yer ears. Canna ye hear them stomping down the ladder?"

Nachal scowled and went back to his book. Dhurmic moved to sit on a crate at the far end of their secluded space and went back to sharpening his axe. His face was still red. Silence reigned supreme.

Nachal spun to the side, and jerked his sword up just in time to avoid the axe about to cleave his head off. Dhurmic didn't mess around in sparring matches. He grunted and kicked the dwarf away.

"Ye fear my axe, is it not so?" Dhurmic taunted as he crouched on the floor where Nachal had shoved him, ready to spring again. Nachal eyed him warily, slowly circling.

"Fear is such a strong word," he said in a purposefully bored drawl. "How about a healthy amount of respect?"

He jerked out of the way just in time; wood chips from the crate that Dhurmic just crushed went flying. "I think we've been down here too long," he grunted, jerking aside again just in time. More wood chips sprayed the air; a sliver embedded itself in his arm. "You keep doing that to me," he muttered. "What is it with you and throwing things?"

"Why do ye always duck?"

He laughed. "Self-preservation. How are we going to explain the crushed crates later?"

"Later? Who says ye will have a later?"

"Me."

He stopped avoiding the fight, driving Dhurmic crazy by managing to dance out of the way of his repeated axe swings, and dove into it head first. He thrust with his blade, feeling the extension of it like it was a part of him. A lethal appendage. It bit into the axe that Dhurmic brought up. The blade whirled in his hands, spinning effortlessly as he adjusted his stance and came from the opposite direction. He smiled grimly, allowing no quarter as he backed Dhurmic steadily into the large stack of crates behind him.

Fighting against an axe-wielding dwarf was different than fighting against a human with a sword—their height was different for one. He smirked as he spun halfway around on his heels, brought his sword down hard with both hands, and cleaved Dhurmic's axe handle in half.

Dhurmic looked at the two pieces in his hands in shock for a moment then he looked up, his face twisting in rage. He threw the broken pieces to the side of him, and slowly stalked toward Nachal.

"Ye broke mine axe," he growled. "How am I supposed to defend yer sorra hide if I _dinna, have... mine..._ **AXE**!" His last word rose to a shout, his face turning a mottled red at the rush of blood beneath his cheeks.

"How was I to know that the axe was poorly made?" Nachal defended. "I thought axes made by the dwarves were unbreakable."

Dhurmic growled a low, menacing growl. "What is thy blade made of, Nachal?" He enunciated each word through gritted teeth; the sound of his boots stalking closer sounded suddenly loud within the empty hold.

"Dragon steel," Nachal said fast, looking around for a convenient exit. "Stronger than adamantine. Infused with dragon tears. Very rare." His voice went up before he finished speaking as his backside hit the crates. Trapped like a rat. He turned again just as Dhurmic reached him with his fists clenched tightly.

"I can buy you a new one," he said in an effort to placate Dhurmic, eying the crates to the side of him, judging his chances of climbing them quickly enough to avoid a dwarven fist in his gut.

That was when he saw it. They had been sparring in their little corner of the hold, with the crates piled high around them, effectively blocking them from view. But out of the corner of his eye something popped into view and he turned quickly. It was the female elf. The breath whooshed out of him as Dhurmic finally punched him in the stomach. He doubled over gasping for breath as a dry voice spoke from the crates above them. Liran, with the strange, blazing eyes.

"Are we allowed to place bets? My gold is on the dwarf."

_"_ What are you doing on my _ship?"_ another voice bellowed from a different stack of crates. Nachal had hit his knees at Dhurmic's blow and was trying to catch his breath. Now he looked up at the corner that the angry voice was vibrating from. He watched Dhurmic out of the corner of his eye go suddenly still, realizing too late that their sparring had prevented him from hearing anyone entering their little hiding place.

Nachal rose slowly to his feet again. Ignoring the very angry captain glaring balefully at him, he turned his attention to Liran. "I need to speak with you," he said quietly.

Liran nodded, accepting this without question. "And I you."

Nachal gritted his teeth as Dhurmic stomped on his foot, trying to get his attention.

"Dhurmic would like to be there as well."

Liran looked amused. "Very well." He glanced at the captain. "I would like to speak with these two privately please."

The captain turned sharp eyes to Liran and nodded brusquely. "Do you need me to leave a few men with you?"

Liran didn't even hesitate. "I will be fine on my own."

The female elf spoke up then. Her clear, rich voice made Nachal's mouth go dry. "Do you need me to stay?" she asked Liran.

Nachal looked up at her, finally able to see her clearly in the white illumination that the lumacrystals threw outward. Seeing her made him feel as though Dhurmic had punched him in the stomach again, only a lot harder. He tried to suck in air, but couldn't. He gasped. His eyes burned.

She was stunningly, achingly beautiful. She had full lips, delicately arched midnight brows, and large, luminous eyes. Her eyes. He felt as if a lance had been driven right through his chest. Her eyes were the exact same shade of blue as Cerralys's. Fathomless dark blue.

The _exact_ same eyes.

"How?" His mouth formed the word, but no sound came out. His knees dropped to the planking beneath him, suddenly weak. He gaped at her as everything within him caught fire.

Liran spoke again, his voice a subdued murmur. "I think it would be best if I handled this alone."

The female nodded, looked back once more at Nachal, and then jumped lithely down from the crates. The captain had apparently already left. Liran dropped down in front of Nachal, landing lightly on the balls of his feet like a cat might. Nachal didn't even flinch. He was trying to suck air into his still gasping chest. His mind spun.

Dhurmic crouched down next to him. "What is the matter with ye?" he hissed.

"Who... is... she?" He spoke each word with supreme effort.

Liran's look showed pity. "Her formal first elven name is Aurelias, but she goes by the shortened human version of Auri."

Dhurmic grunted beside him, his jaw going slack. "Great Brulna!" he muttered hoarsely.

Liran ignored the dwarf's expletive and focused intensely on Nachal. His eyes were burning again. "Your purpose was to find someone. Their name?"

Nachal looked down, trying to stop the hold from spinning. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into them, struggling to find air and voice. "Auri," he rasped. "The elf I'm looking for is named Auri."

Liran nodded. "And now that you've found her?"

Behind his closed eyes Nachal could see the massive fire consuming the forest and Obsidian circling overhead like a monstrous carrion bird. He could see the orange flames of Tristan as it burned to ashes and the bodies of the women and children as they burned upon the pyre. "To protect her," he whispered softly. "To keep her alive." His haunted eyes found the elf's golden-amber ones once again.

Liran nodded, staring into Nachal's soul.

Dhurmic was completely and utterly still beside him. The hold was drenched in absolute quiet.

"You have found what you have sought, but I sense that you have also found something that you did _not_ seek."

Nachal looked down at his fisted hands in front of him, seeing her eyes. Her deep, fathomless, impossible, blue eyes.

"I can't." His hoarse voice broke. He shook his head slowly back and forth, agonizing over the evidence that he had just witnessed, agonizing over the feelings crushing him from within.

_Oh, Cerralys! You will lose her too! You will lose everything!_

Tears ran warmly down his face, dripping onto his tightly clenched fists. When he spoke again, his voice was barely audible. His cold and pale lips pushed the words past the pain in his chest.

"I must speak with another first."

## 12

# Driven

He didn't know how but, somehow, after everyone else had left the hold, Natalie managed to get up onto his feet. Liran left. Dhurmic left. They all left him, staring at his hands, feeling completely lost.

It seemed so pointless. _Why_ was he doing this? Why love if you were just going to lose? Why fight at all? He knew the answers should be there, but they weren't. He hurt. More than any other pain he had ever felt before. His stomach was burning. His chest felt like ice had exploded inside of it. His mind was an indistinct buzz. His eyes felt raw and swollen.

He took a step across the floorboards of the hold—and got suddenly tossed backward. His whole body smashed into the crates behind him. The crates at the top of the stack toppled and crashed down onto him. He threw his arm over his head to protect it, and flinched when they smashed into various parts of his body.

An explosion of sound tore through the air at the same time. It was only after he lay there for a minute, half stunned, that he realized what the sound was. He flung the crates off of him, shook his head to clear the double vision, then got up and sprinted for the ladder. Once he reached it, he started ascending quickly. Right, left, right, left. Up. Up. Up. **_CRASH_!**

Another explosion rocked the vessel. His right hand slipped off the rung; his feet got knocked away as well. He hung there by the fingertips of one hand, dangling, terror clawing its way up his throat before his slick-with-sweat hands were able to re-grip the rung. His feet found purchase again, and he started to climb faster.

He reached the hatch and threw it open with a crash. When his feet touched down on the crew deck, he started to run. Men rushed past him, holding aloft short, curved swords. A few were yelling from the main area below the stairs for the others to get topside _now_. He ignored them, drew his own sword, and elbowed his way through the mass of people getting their weapons. He gripped the blade between his teeth as he climbed the second ladder then he landed on the deck of the ship and looked around him.

Everything was absolute chaos. They had collided with another ship. A black ship with dark red sails. A ship that would get noticed anywhere. Men were swarming both decks, fighting hand to hand. Some were aloft in the rigging, shooting arrows with soft hissing thuds into the enemy.

He took a step and staggered as the ship was rammed again. How many times could you ram one ship? A sword came out of nowhere, swiping at his chest, cutting the cloth of his shirt. He jumped backward, barely missing it pierce his skin. Then he turned and met the blade with a one-handed defense, smashed the owner in the nose to stun him briefly, then drove his blade deep into his chest. He looked down at the still figure on the deck for a moment in regret then raised his head and scanned the chaos surrounding him.

"Dhurmic!" he bellowed.

Men fought all around him. Swords clashing, the two ships groaning, arrows hissing, and men shouting were the only sounds that he could hear for a moment. And then a voice bellowed back to him over the tumult.

"Here!"

He spun and found Dhurmic at the prow of the ship, holding off two men with his axe. He ran toward him, skidding over the bloody planks, diving past swinging swords and colliding bodies. He backhanded a man who staggered toward him with a sword raised, and sent him crashing into the side of the ship.

He reached Dhurmic, and took on one of the two he was fighting. "Where's Auri?" he shouted above the sound of screeching steel and Dhurmic's cackles of glee.

"Liran has her," Dhurmic answered, sliding his axe under his opponent's defenses, and burying it in their chest.

Nachal batted away his opponent's sword with his own, swept his legs out from under him, and stabbed him through the neck. He didn't look this time, knowing it would hurt if he did.

"Where?"

Dhurmic pointed high above them to the crow's nest. Auri was standing to the side and back, and Liran was front and center, picking out people on the deck with unerring accuracy, and burying his arrows inside of their skulls—right between their eyes—nearly up to the fletching.

"Do you need help?" he called up.

"No," Liran answered tersely, releasing another arrow that zinged past him, burying itself into someone at the far end of the deck.

Nachal nodded, and started to turn back to the fight when someone barreled into him with the force of a battering ram. His breath whooshed out of him as his head slammed hard against the deck. The momentum made him slide along the slippery boards for a few feet before he slammed into the foremast with a crash. He sucked air into his lungs to clear the spinning in his head then kicked his attacker in the stomach. Dhurmic grunted.

"Dhurmic?" Nachal said, confused. "What—"

"Oh, nothing," Dhurmic said acerbically, heaving himself quickly to his feet. "Jus' tryin' to save yer ungrateful hide, tha's all." He pointed, and Nachal followed his finger, up past the limp, red sails, all the way up to the top of the vessel. He could barely make out a figure standing there. Arrows zinged from their position . . . and apparently one of them had almost hit him.

He looked back to Dhurmic with gratitude in his eyes. "Thanks."

Dhurmic grunted in acknowledgment, swung his axe up, and went barreling back into the fight with a roaring bellow. Nachal eyed the figure in the crow's nest, debating going over there and taking him out. It wasn't necessary. As he watched, an arrow hissed from high above his head, and drove into the person's skull. The figure toppled from the nest, and slammed into the deck of the black ship.

Liran.

He looked up to watch him for a second. Liran kept drawing arrow after arrow, nocking them then releasing in the time that it would take a normal person to draw a single breath. His supply seemed inexhaustible. He had never seen anything like it in his entire life. Not even Cerralys was that good.

"Thank you," he called up, figuring he would get no answer. He was right.

He dragged himself to his feet painfully and found his sword. His head reeled. Dhurmic finished off the person he had been dueling, and stood panting with his hands on his knees, dragging deep breaths into his lungs. People were fallen, spread across the distance and width of both of the decks.

Nachal looked back up at Liran who drew another arrow and sent it flying into the last remaining enemy standing. The elf lowered his arms, skimming the decks with intense eyes.

"Liran, is he here?" He knew Liran would know who he was talking about.

"No, this is just a scout ship," he replied.

Nachal nodded. It made sense. His chest tightened when he thought about the distinct possibility of _many_ scout ships, swarming the waters like restless sharks tracking the scent of blood. He looked back up as he caught movement. Auri and Liran were descending the rungs of the crow's nest, coming down to the main deck.

He reached out to help Auri down the last few feet, keeping his eyes away from her. He couldn't look at her. It made him sick inside, shaky. She accepted his hand without comment. It was warm, burning almost, inside of his. He looked at it in surprise, blinking in confusion. Was she sick or something? But no . . . she was just. . .

He drew in a quiet, stabilizing breath, gathered enough courage to look at her face . . . and then felt the air he'd just inhaled hiss out from between his clenched teeth. It hurt to look at her. It hurt to see the expression in her eyes. The confusion. The wariness. "Are you alright?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

She nodded without speaking. Her eyes were like deep, blue fire, delving into his. He looked away from her quickly, protecting himself, and walked away.

He found the captain alive. A short man with a barrel chest and thick, muscled arms. He was giving orders to his crew in a quiet, controlled voice of steel. There were no doubts about his authority on this ship. Men—despite the exhaustion that they must have been feeling—went quickly to see to the things that he commanded of them.

"What can I do?" Nachal asked softly, drawing level with him.

The captain turned. His face was set in tight lines of anger; sorrow ate at his eyes. "I already have men scouring the other ship, searching for stragglers. I need a team of people to search the cabins and captain's office for anything that we might be able to use against them—charts, maps, anything."

Nachal nodded and turned to search for Dhurmic, who was already heading toward him. "The captain wants us to look for anything we might be able to use against them on the other ship," he said when the dwarf caught up to him. "You coming?"

Dhurmic nodded. They were met, as they were jumping over their ship onto the other, by Auri and Liran. They all went aboard in silence. The silence seemed unnatural now that the skirmish was over. So many lay dead on the decks that they had to constantly step over and around them. Nachal tried not to look at any of them. Instead, he glanced from the corner of his eye at Liran and Auri walking right beside him.

They both moved with natural grace, but Liran had something else. A tautness, a rigidity that Auri didn't carry. His eyes seemed to be slightly luminescent most of the time. A faint glow that Nachal found eerie. And then there were the times when they became intensely lit, like a light was shining from behind his eyes outward. He had only noticed it happening when the elf was highly charged about something. Like when he was looking at Auri when she wasn't paying attention.

Like now.

It was a hungry look. Not a look that wanted to possess, but to consume. Nachal closed his eyes, blocking out Liran's eyes and what he read in them. His stomach clenched into hard, tight knots.

They made their way to the crew quarters and began searching systematically, starting at one end and making their way to the other. They ripped open bedding, busted locked drawers and chests, pulled up loose floorboards, and even smashed into some of the walls. Then they piled all of the materials onto one of the ripped mattresses and rifled through them carefully. Letters. Every single thing that they had found was a letter. He opened one and scanned it, absently at first, and then completely engrossed.

> _Mother-_
> 
> _I know I'll never be able to send this, but writing it gives me comfort. I miss you and dad so much it hurts._
> 
> _A few weeks ago I was a fourteen-year-old kid. Today, I feel so old. My body hurts. My mind and heart are disgusted by the things I am forced to do._
> 
> _We have been beaten, one by one. Our wills broken. Our minds emptied and numb. I go along because I am afraid. I fear the return of pain if I fail. I fear that they will find you and dad and kill you. I fear dad getting dragged into this . . . I can't let that happen._

The letter didn't have a signature. Nachal sighed and handed it to Dhurmic who read through it with fiery, black eyes drawn tight in anger, and then finally he sighed as well and threw it in a separate pile.

Auri picked one up. Her slim, pale hands trembled as she broke the seal and started to read aloud. Nachal's mouth went dry. His eyes crept upward, past her collar bone, past her chin, up to her lips. He watched them tremble and form the sounds as she read.

> _Dearest Teresa-_
> 
> _We aren't allowed letters, but some of the others have written their goodbyes to their families on paper and then quietly tucked them away beneath their beds, or else hidden them in other places. We have no privacy here, nothing of our own, but there's something about seeing it on paper. . ._
> 
> _The paper was, of course, stolen. We look out for each other here because we're all each other has._
> 
> _I miss you and Maddy. We know—all of us on this ship know—that we will never return home. There is something, Teresa, something far bigger than I once realized happening here. The brutality makes me sick inside. Most of us, most of those dragged into this, are good, hard-working men. Men who have something to live for. Something to keep going for._
> 
> _But after a while . . . I find myself becoming less me and more something else. It terrifies me. I want more than anything to be with my girls again, even just one last time. But I can't. What are we fighting for? The brutal War of the Dragons is not our war. At least . . . that's what I used to think. But now the only thing that I'm sure of is that the one the captain calls Obsidian must be stopped. The extent of his plans—what some of the men have been able to piece together from spy holes and dark corners—is beyond the scope of my imagination._
> 
> _He doesn't just want to annihilate the other dragons; he wants to exterminate Terradin itself._
> 
> _I used to think that it was all too far away to worry over. A distant fighting in a distant land. Until they came for me. And then the fight got personal for all of us._
> 
> _Oh Teresa, I'm fighting on the wrong side! How are those we fight against to win? And, oh, how I want them to win. . . I fight because I must. But in the end, I hope that I and all those who have quickly become my brothers are defeated. I hope that we are slaughtered. I hope that we can never again be the sharp edge of the sword in this war._
> 
> _It is with that hope that I seal this letter, never to be sent or to see the light of day again. I also seal away my love for you and Maddy in here. The paper should fairly drip with it, my love. I will miss you and love you for always._
> 
> * * *
> 
> _All my love, Syreth_

Liran looked through the rest of the letters, scanning them with quick, sweeping flashes of his eyes. "These all say similar things," he said. "Beatings, torture, threats against family and homes." He looked down at one letter in particular. It was held carefully in his hands as though he were protecting it. "They all wanted out. Wanted to be killed so that they couldn't be used."

Dhurmic looked disgusted. "Why didna they just fight their way out then? They could have gone down fight'n the enemy instead of us!"

Liran looked up from the letter he was scanning and over at Dhurmic. His eyes were cold. "Threats against their families perhaps? Torture. Many of those we fought today were young, little more than scared children. Have some compassion for the fallen, dwarf."

Dhurmic scowled then picked up a letter at random and started reading. They all did the same, each of them working through the stack in silence. The "done" pile grew larger, the other smaller. Until, finally, only Liran held up a letter: the final one. They all looked at him, drawn into his lit, blazing eyes. His voice was a throaty rasp, tight with unnamed emotion. Compassion? Pity? Maybe all of these. He started to read.

> _Brother-_
> 
> _Unlike the others that I am surrounded by, I haven't given up. We are forced into inhumanity, but really they are only giving us a weapon to use against them. A powerful weapon: our hatred. There is not a person who shares this small room with me who doesn't hate. We hate being pawns. We hate this war. We hate—perhaps most of all—ourselves for being so weak._
> 
> _I am tired of hating myself. Tired of feeling this pain. It ends tonight. I refuse. I haven't given up because I'm not going down without a fight. I and a few of the others are going to try to take over the ship tonight. We know we won't succeed. The captains and leaders of this ship have far too great a hold upon the minds and wills of those who sleep in tortured dreams beside me. But I cannot sleep. It's almost time. . . I shall not see you again, brother. But even if I had the chance to, I never would have been able to again look you in the eyes. Fear is a strange thing. It claws at your insides, your sanity, and wipes away the person you used to be. I will not be a pawn anymore. I will not lay down in fear anymore. I will not continue to fight against those I should be fighting for. I will never surrender._
> 
> * * *
> 
> _Your brother forever, David_

Liran looked up from the letter at all of them then he folded it and slid it carefully back into the envelope. Auri was crying. Deep, clear tears that ran down her beautiful face. Dhurmic was staring at the bed in silence. Only Nachal met Liran's eyes when they looked up again. A look passed between them. A wary acknowledgment. It was unclear what the elf knew, but Nachal saw that it didn't matter. He knew enough.

_Are you reading my mind?_ he thought intently, his eyes burning into golden-amber.

A slight nod.

_They will come for her. These armies that are amassing, they will come for her._

The brilliantly lit eyes closed in tormented pain.

## 13

# Defense of the Isle

Several days later, Nachal sat in a creaking chair in the captain's cabin, listening to his report on the dismal state of things. Auri and Liran were seated close to each other, Dhurmic was sprawled somewhere in the middle, and the captain was sitting stiffly behind his desk.

The captain's grave voice broke through the tense silence that had descended. "We've lost eighteen men," he said harshly. The lines of his face were nearly jagged in his sorrow. "Eighteen men with families at home waiting for them. Obsidian's armies are all over the place now, nearly impossible to avoid."

"Not impossible yet," Liran said quietly. "It can still be done."

The captain nodded, a concise jerk of his head. He glared at the ceiling, his thumb rubbing endlessly against a translucent, pale pink stone that Nachal noticed he carried around with him all the time. "In the open seas, yes, still possible. But to go into any port right now is like asking to get massacred. He has all of the ports locked up tight. No supplies at all are coming in. That means no food, weapons, anything."

Nachal spoke up. "You speak as if this is your war and not just the dragons' war."

The captain looked over at him, his glare transferring to Nachal's face. "Do you think I'm lacking in intelligence, boy? I've read those letters you brought me. This war is all of ours. If it isn't now then it very soon will be."

Liran shifted. His eyes lit slightly as he stared past the closed door as though he was looking through it. "Neither Obsidian nor any of his ships will be where you're taking us," he said as he closed his eyes. "In fact. . ." Without finishing his sentence, he got up and left them, moving so swiftly that the air swished slightly at his passing.

The captain stared after him confusion; Dhurmic stared after him in disgust. Dhurmic seemed to lack any affinity whatsoever for elves, and any patience for their peculiar ways. Both Nachal and Auri stood then moved at nearly the same moment toward the doorway. But before they had even cleared it, something slammed into the ship, sending it scuttling, spinning along the top of the water several hundred yards.

Nachal floundered in the doorway as the ship spun, trying to grab something to anchor him. Auri, who was ahead of him, crashed into him when the ship suddenly started spinning in the opposite direction. He grabbed her hand, and pulled her to him before she could slide down the suddenly vertical deck. With his other hand, he made a quick swipe for the frame of the door.

Everything not nailed down slid perilously fast toward the deck rails that were now positioned below them, and then went overboard. He looked down at the churning water, at least thirty feet below him, and tried to keep his grip on both Auri and the doorframe.

Dhurmic slammed into the wall right next to them, grunting loudly. The captain had been trying to hold on to something, but then the something moved, slamming into the wall to Nachal's left, and the captain followed. He grunted as he slammed into what turned out to be his desk, and then clutched it as the ship started spinning again.

Nachal closed his eyes, trying not to throw up. It felt like they were in some kind of crazy whirlpool. His hands started to slip from the doorframe. As he lost his grip, he clutched Auri's hand tighter, and glanced frantically up toward the captain's door that he was quickly sliding down the deck away from.

Dhurmic was shouting something, his face popped into view briefly, but Nachal couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything except for the sound of the ship splintering apart. He and Auri slid onto the main deck, rolling and crashing into various pieces of flying debris.

The ship got tossed again, literally, and for a few seconds they—the ship and all of the people on it—were airborne. They finally stopped flying over the waves and landed back in the water with a crash that sounded like a tidal wave hitting the deck. Nachal and Auri both hit the rail. Hard. Blackness edged his vision, but he shook it off, turning to Auri in dazed panic. "Are you alright?"

She was unconscious, lying face down on the deck.

"Auri!" he yelled frantically, crawling over broken, shattered debris to get to her.

Before he reached her, Liran was suddenly there. He crouched down and picked her up. "Sorry," he rasped quietly. "The dragon's sense of smell should pick up on the wolf soon. It was necessary."

"Wait. What? What are you talking about?"

"You'll see." He gathered Auri closer to his chest, and walked over to the opposite railing. Nachal groaned. He was getting really tired of those words.

"Is she going to be alright?" he called to him.

"She's going to have a headache."

Nachal rubbed the spot on the back of his head where a pulsing pain was throbbing vividly. "I know _I'll_ have one," he muttered, hauling himself slowly to his feet. He glanced around him at the deep mists clogging the air. They were suddenly so thick that he couldn't even see ten feet in front of him. He remembered then the men who had been thrown overboard along with all of the boxes and ropes on the deck. He ran to the railing next to Liran and Auri, and looked down into the churning mass of water below. Dhurmic, grumbling and rubbing various bruised parts of his body, came to stand beside them.

"Do you see anyone?" Nachal asked anxiously.

"Nay," the dwarf replied, squinting down toward the water. "The mists be too thick."

"Don't worry about them. They're all safe and are swimming toward the ladder on the prow of the ship," Liran said. He had set Auri gently down, and was smoothing the wild, tangled hair from around her face with tender hands.

"I tried to protect her head," Nachal said, crouching down next to her. "But I lost all sense of up and down."

"You did well up until the last spinning."

Nachal looked at him. "In my head again?" And then something clicked. "Wait. Did you say _wolf_?"

And in that impossibly grim moment, he saw the elf almost smile. "Yes. But that was several minutes ago. He has now caught up with me, and is standing right behind you."

Nachal spun in his crouch, and then scuttled backward as a very large, very lethal white wolf glared at him. He blinked. He didn't think wolves could glare. Could they? "Umm, nice wolf," he said inanely. Liran actually chuckled.

Nachal was still eying the wolf that was staring him down when a long, sinuous, bluish-grey dragon head rose out of the mist beside the ship, and towered over them. He looked up and felt his jaw go slack.

A sea dragon.

He felt the panic hit the ship at the same time that it hit him. He stood quickly, drawing his sword. The crew were suddenly shouting and going for their weapons as well. A bell rang, calling all available crew to arms. The captain, looking slightly cross-eyed and groggy, staggered out onto the deck. He saw the head of the dragon, and started yelling for the crew, trying to pull his sword out of its sheath with suddenly clumsy fingers.

Liran took one step forward, and raised his hands up sharply, palms outward. " **STOP**!" he bellowed, his raspy voice ringing with authority. Everyone stopped, some in the act of drawing weapons, and looked up in surprise. The silence on the deck was absolute. Nachal wanted to close his eyes in pain. Yelling was not good for him at the moment. "This dragon is the defense of my homeland," Liran said in a quieter voice. "He will not harm us now that he knows there are elves aboard."

Nachal stumbled back a few steps, his neck tilted upward so that he could see the dragon's face. It was the face of a normal dragon, except smaller and a bit more angled in at the jaws. There _was_ one major difference though. This dragon had eyes that were an opaque milky-white.

The sea dragon was blind.

He looked down past the railing into the water and saw its huge body treading water in the frothy, churned up sea. It was massive, about the size of a large whale. It was the same blue-grey color all over, and it had webbed wings that were held tightly against the main portion of its body. Its feet were webbed as well.

With its serpentine neck—which was easily fifteen feet long—it moved closer to the wolf, and inhaled deeply along his fur. "Thou hast been far from home," the ancient dragon voice rumbled. The wolf whined in seeming agreement, and the dragon chuckled. "Though perhaps not of thy choosing."

Its head snaked away, and came to stop before Liran. Liran dipped his head respectfully. "Drashmere."

"Liran," the dragon acknowledged, its head dipping slightly as well. "Welcome home, young one."

"Thank you."

The head then snaked toward Dhurmic, and Dhurmic backed up a pace, reaching behind him for an axe that wasn't there. He growled again and scowled, holding his bare hands up in front of him like a shield. The dragon snorted at this ineffectual display. Hot steam blew around Dhurmic's head, making his face red and dewy, and his hair and beard seize up into instant curls. Nachal bit the inside of his cheek to contain his smile.

"A dwarf," the ancient voice said in surprise. "I so rarely see thy kind upon my waters. Thou must be mighty in courage." Dhurmic dropped his hands and stood a little taller. His chin rose. Nachal rolled his eyes and snorted aloud.

The head swiveled and then moved quickly toward him. "Thou dost not agree with my assessment?" the voice rumbled in amusement. The dragon's completely white eyes stared straight through him. Nachal swallowed.

"He has plenty of courage," he said in agreement. "It's just what he chooses to _do_ with that courage that often gets him into trouble."

The dragon chuckled again then moved in closer to him and inhaled deeply. "I know thy smell, young one," he whispered close to Nachal's ear. "Thou hast the smell of my old friend Cerralys about thee. He is well?"

Nachal floundered in shock for a moment. Cerralys? This creature knew Cerralys? Then he shook his head grimly. Perhaps he should have been surprised but he just wasn't. It made perfect sense that the two were acquainted with each other. He forced his words past the sudden tightness in his throat. "He is. . ." What? What could he say? That he was fine? He struggled for the right words but could find nothing. The creature seemed to understand. He dipped his long neck down until his head was right over Nachal's chest.

"Clear away the cloth, young one," he said calmly. Nachal looked up at the dragon's face for a moment then reached down and lifted his shirt up. The mist that surrounded them chilled his suddenly bare flesh until the snout of the dragon came down, touching the exposed skin of his chest, right over his heart. He flinched slightly then held steady and closed his eyes. The snout was warm. Nachal had expected cold, but it was very, very warm.

"Give this to him," the dragon rumbled softly. Nachal's muscles suddenly seized, and he gasped in shock. Warmth shot through him as tendrils through his veins and organs, coming to a final rest in his heart. It burned there with peaceful warmth. He opened his eyes and smiled, feeling a warm glow suffuse him entirely.

"I'll try," he said quietly.

The dragon chuckled. "So you shall," he said.

Liran crouched down beside the still Auri.

"Why hasn't she awoken yet?" Nachal asked, instant fear making his voice harsh. He crouched down next to Liran and searched her still face. The elf was feeling along the back of her head. He winced when his tender probing encountered something.

"What?" Nachal demanded.

"Nearly the whole of the back of her head is swollen," he murmured. "She has several knots. She must have smashed into something several times."

"Why weren't you in _her_ head instead of mine?" Nachal growled.

Liran glanced at him coolly, but remained silent. Then they both turned simultaneously to stare down at Auri's still face and closed eyes. The head of the dragon swept in silently beside them, and sniffed her delicately. "Another elf?" it whispered in shock.

"Her name is Aurelias," Liran rasped, his voice weary. "I was taking her home."

"I could only smell the men," the dragon whispered, shame and pain coloring its ancient voice.

"I know. That's why I released the wolf. His smell is so overpowering I knew that it would make you pause."

"It saved your life," the ancient one agreed.

Liran nodded, though his eyes remained fastened on Auri's still face. As they three watched, two by sight, the third by smell, her eyelids fluttered slightly, and then she opened her eyes and blinked groggily at them. Nachal's eyes closed in stark relief. He noticed, for the first time, the loud sound of his heartbeat drumming in his ears. He opened his eyes and looked over at Liran whose eyes were glowing as he stared down at Auri. She held a hand up, and both Liran and Nachal reached for it, helping her gently to her feet. She let go and backed a bit closer to the rail, looking up at the dragon's head that was suddenly right in front of her.

"I am sorry that I damaged thee, young one," the ancient voice said contritely. "I did not know that thy ship carried elves on their homeward journey, else I would have let thee pass."

Auri blinked and stared incredulously. She looked from Nachal to Liran to the dragon, and then did it again. After she had made the circuit at least three times, she turned to Liran. "I think I hit my head too hard," she whispered in confusion.

The dragon chuckled, leaning a little closer. "Dost thou mind if I get closer to smell thee better? I wish to remember thy scent for the future."

Auri deliberated briefly then nodded her head tersely once. The dragon's neck wound its way forward, until its warm snout nuzzled the skin of her arms, neck and face. She closed her eyes; the dragon did the same. A long, silent moment passed in which they both stood very still. "Thy scent," the dragon rumbled quietly, "it is familiar to me. I do not know why this is so. I have never met thee, young one." The dragon's face tightened in fierce concentration as it turned its head to the side and sniffed Auri again with a deep quaff of indrawn air. "So familiar. . ." it murmured absently.

Auri's hands clenched tightly, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Then she visibly stilled them and stepped forward, directly in front of the sea dragon. She raised her right hand and placed her palm against Drashmere's warm, wet cheek. "Does this help, ancient one?" she asked quietly.

The skin around the sea dragon's opaque eyes widened, as though in severe shock. It began trembling. Deep, violent tremors that ran down the length of its neck and body. Auri released the dragon's cheek and quickly stepped away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down at the deck; tears leaked down her pale cheeks. "I did not mean to disturb you."

Quivering still, the sea dragon glided its neck forward until it was resting its head upon Auri's trembling shoulders. It hummed deep in its throat. "Peace, little one," it soothed. "I am only surprised." It began to hum what sounded like a lullaby, its chest vibrating deeply with each note. The melody was hauntingly beautiful, ancient and terrible all at the same time.

More tears slid down Auri's cheeks as she closed her eyes and leaned into the neck and head of the dragon. They stayed like that, dragon and elf entwined, until the haunting lullaby came to a gentle, breathtaking conclusion.

The silence around them was complete. The men on the deck stared in complete awe as the dragon slowly rubbed away the glistening drops trailing down Auri's cheek with its nose. When it spoke again, the deep tremors of its body were gone and its voice was serene and peaceful. "You will come to see me again?"

Auri nodded, opening her eyes and gazing at the creature. Something had changed; some shift of understanding or feeling. "Yes," she said softly. "Soon."

The ancient head nodded, satisfied. "Then I give my blessing. Go in peace to the eternal shores of thy home, blessed one." Auri rose on tiptoe to kiss its warm cheek, and Drashmere entwined his neck around her shoulders again, squeezing gently in a loving embrace. Then he unwound from around her and breathed upon her face. Auri smiled.

The sea dragon turned, pausing intently in front of Liran. Liran looked up at the sightless gaze and then his eyes went suddenly from barely lit to blazing. His face tightened in pain; he staggered against the railing. Auri quickly moved to his side and put a gentle, questioning hand across his arm. Liran's eyes remained closed as the creature gave one final embrace to Auri and then swept away, disappearing beneath the gently undulating waves.

For a long, stunned moment, all was silent on the deck. Then the crew started moving off to see to cleaning up the vessel after its being tossed across the ocean. They talked animatedly with one another as they walked away. Dhurmic moved too, muttering something about going to fix his axe and his beard before he disappeared below deck. Finally, the only four standing there were Nachal, Liran, Auri and the wolf.

Auri was whispering something to Liran, and Liran was shaking his head. His eyes were still closed to the softly falling night around them.

Nachal walked away, pain clutching his chest. He moved to a remote corner of the ship, far away from the shifting and moving of the crew, and stared down at the rippling waves below. Before too many minutes had passed, a figure came to stand at the railing beside him. "Come to throw me in?" he asked archly, keeping his eyes trained on the ocean.

"Hardly," Liran said in a strained voice. His hands dangled over the rail as his wrists rested against it. "Tell me about . . . Cerralys."

Nachal glanced over at him in surprise. "Why?"

"You are not dragon by blood."

Nachal stiffened. "He is my foster father," he said coldly.

Liran looked away wearily. "I meant no offense. I was merely trying to figure out your place in all of this."

Nachal relaxed and looked out over the endless ocean. He deliberated for a long moment, and then sighed. "I can't talk about it," he whispered.

Silence and then, "I understand."

"No," Nachal said in frustration. "You don't." His fingers gripped the rail punishingly; he could feel every indentation, every remote crevice of the wood. "Take it from my mind," he demanded stiffly, suddenly. "I can't say it aloud; just take it from my mind."

"I can only hear your current thoughts," Liran warned.

Nachal nodded silently then let his eyes close against the endless rhythm of the waves flowing beneath the ship, crashing into the sides of the hull—remembering. He brought them forward. Dreams that were streaked with sweat and tears and blood. He paused over each image until the pain in his chest felt like it would explode, and silent tears ran down his face. He felt Liran stiffen in shock beside him, felt the air all around them go still once again.

"Why?" he whispered harshly.

Nachal shook his head, mute. That he didn't know. He brought the final image forward, and left it there to burn a bright, gaping hole in his mind: Obsidian, circling high above. He had to breathe deeply through his clenched teeth for a moment before he was able to show him the next scene—that pivotal conversation with Cerralys.

"I need a clear view of his face," Liran murmured, his voice strained.

Nachal nodded, understanding instantly why he asked this. He pushed the memory forward. That final moment in Cerralys's study, before he had turned and walked away. He paused there, letting the familiar face and eyes fill his mind completely. Then he opened his eyes, the slate of his mind clean, and looked over at Liran whose head was bowed.

"I understand now," he said quietly. "Thank you."

Nachal nodded, looking out past the waves again toward the vast, black emptiness of the night that went on forever.

Liran was quiet for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with pain. "I know that you love her."

Nachal glanced over at him, suddenly wary of where this conversation was headed. "What does _that_ matter?"

Liran looked at him. His eyes were blazing, tight with deep emotion. "I think it would mean a great deal . . . to her."

"She doesn't even know," Nachal said bitterly. "In her eyes, she just met me."

The answer was soft. "Give her time, Nachal. She needs you. Don't fail her." And with that he was gone, leaving Nachal to stare unseeingly at the dark and empty night.

## 14

# Shrouded

As they pushed forward relentlessly, the Sea of Mists came alive. Thick droplets clogged the air, making it seem like she was breathing water into her lungs. She was at the prow of the ship, straining to see anything through the thick, soupy mass of mists. Liran was beside Auri with his eyes closed. Wolf was sleeping, or probably more accurately resting, with his head pushed up against her feet. She didn't mind.

"Liran?"

He turned. She flinched at the contrast of hollow depth in his eyes. It wasn't really something that was visual, more a sense that she had. Liran had so much depth, almost two centuries of it, but there was also a hollow emptiness about him as though part of him was withered like the string he had shown her in her mind. She stared into his eyes, wondering what she had been about to ask him. For the life of her she couldn't remember.

"Yes?" he prompted.

She fished around for something quickly, hoping he was currently out of the mainstream of her thoughts. "How long until we get there?" she asked, looking away from the questions in his eyes.

"A few hours."

She turned back in surprise. "So soon? I thought we were still days away."

He shook his head. "We've made good time," he murmured quietly.

"Are you excited, seeing home again?"

"I should be."

"But you aren't."

He closed his eyes. "El`ness Nahrral is empty for me now."

"Is there anyone there waiting for you?"

He looked at her face curiously. "No."

"Family?"

"A brother."

"That's good then."

He turned back to the sea without comment. Every sound seemed blanketed within the mists. The sound of the water and the ship slicing through it. The sound of the crew. Even the sound of her breath and heartbeat. Everything seemed muffled, held within the silence of a shroud.

Her mind had been preoccupied for days now. She felt as if she were trying to understand everything and go everywhere at once. The fighting. The letters. The ships that were sweeping through the waters, closing off all available ports and supplies. The stranger she had met recently with the deep, grey eyes. Eyes that looked at her both with pain and . . . something else.

"Love," Liran murmured quietly. "He looks at you that way because he loves you."

She jerked her head up, barely able to see him standing a foot away from her because of the mists. "Love? He barely knows me." She found his eyes, which was easy to do because they were currently glowing as he looked across at her, a foot from her face.

It was odd. The mists shrouded him completely. All she could see were his glowing eyes. There seemed to be no body or face attached. He stepped forward, now inches away from her, revealing his body and face once again, and looked at her intently.

"You create for love limits and boundaries. What about the love of a mother and child? A love that is instant."

She stared at his chin, away from the intensity of his eyes. "I would think," she breathed softly, "that the love of a mother and child are different."

He tilted her head up with his index finger until she was looking him in the eyes again. "What about the love of friends?" His voice was husky, the mist going into his mouth and out with each word that he spoke. It was mesmerizing to watch. She forgot where she was in the conversation again.

"Friends?" she asked dully, mesmerized by the mist clouding his mouth and blowing out again. His lips parted even more. He was breathing roughly. She jerked her eyes up to his. His eyes were brighter now, glowing incandescent in the encompassing white that surrounded them.

She didn't think about it, she just moved. She felt his body tense before her lips touched his. She drew her lips across his, grazing them slightly. He stood like a statue. She moved her hand up past his clenched fist on the rail, up to his chest, and nestled it there as she leaned in again. "Don't," he whispered harshly, cutting her off. His eyes, his whole being, were clenched tightly. "Please, Auri. Don't do this."

She backed away a step, and released her hand down to her side. He looked like he was in agony. As though her touch brought him pain. "Is it that painful for you to consider?" she asked huskily.

His eyes opened. They scorched her clear to the middle of her body with burning heat. "Yes."

She looked away from the intense heat of his eyes, down at her hands balled up on the rail. Tears dribbled pathetically down her face. "Please don't cry," he whispered, agony etched in every sibilant of his voice.

She laughed, a small, hiccupping sound. "I have never kissed anyone before, never cared to try. Is it the difference in our ages?"

"No," he whispered.

"Am I . . . unattractive to you?"

She heard a small hissed exhalation from him, as though he had been punched in the stomach. "No," he said, his voice strained and thick.

She finally turned back to him, the tears continuing to dribble down over her already mist-dampened cheeks. "Uninteresting? Unintelligent? Unkind?"

He shook his head slowly.

"Then what?" she asked in mounting frustration. "What is it?"

He looked back at her, and whether it was the mist or something else, a slight sheen thickened around his eyes. Like water coalescing over a smooth surface. She swallowed at the hollowness that was more blatantly visible in them. At the dead pain. "I," he rasped with difficulty, "am not the right person for you to love."

They stood like that for a long time before she could speak again. "Go into my thoughts and tell me that again," she finally demanded.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I give my permission."

He clenched his eyes shut. "You misunderstand," he whispered. "I can't for other reasons." He stood there, muscles straining, face tightened into severe hard angles, hands clenched at his sides, and she felt the hope inside of her wither and die.

"So that's it then," she said softly, turning her face away from him. The tears kept falling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

She nodded, clenching her hands on the rail. "Have I ruined our friendship?"

"Come here," he whispered harshly in answer.

She laughed and it still came out sounding like a sobbing hiccup. "I tried that just now. It didn't work too well."

He opened his eyes and the piercing pain in them melted her resistance. "Please?"

She took one step forward, unsure what he wanted. His hands suddenly shot out, faster than she could follow with her eyes, and clutched her close to his body. His arms wound around her, enfolding her within his warmth. He kissed the top of her head and held her like that for a long time. His whole body was shaking, tremors rocking it visibly.

She clutched at his shirt and inhaled, drowning in his presence. "Shh," she tried to soothe, her throat tight with tears and a deep ache that pierced all the way down to her chest. "It's alright." He continued to shake, vibrating her slightly as he held her. Time melded, morphing and twisting in the mists until she felt like it had stopped completely. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Air hissed out of his teeth again, but she didn't open her mouth to ask why. She stepped back, out of the circle of his arms and the warm solidity of his body. "I need to go gather my things if the isle is coming up soon." Wolf, who had been lounging, lightly pushed up against the calves of her legs and her feet, stood.

Liran nodded, lifting his head and letting his arms drop. He didn't say anything, but she could feel his eyes following her through the thick mists until she reached the hatch and descended. She could feel them still aware of her as she walked through the darkened crew deck to her room and as she gathered her things and made her way quickly up the ladder again. Wolf was waiting for her at the open hatch. Liran was nowhere in sight.

Liran knelt beside his bed, shivering from the vast coldness eating away at his lungs and skin. His hands were clenched into fists around the thin blanket that the room provided him with. The blanket that he had yet to use. He ground his head into the limp, cot-like mattress and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to breathe normally through his mouth and nose.

Sound drilled into his head, piercing it with a sharp shrillness, that—coupled with the all-encompassing pain that was Auri—made his body arch slightly as he tried to gasp air into the hollow cavity of his chest as he tried in vain to block everything out.

He waited until the shaking subsided, until all of the tremors were loosed from his body, until the pain inside of his head was a dull roar. Then he gathered his bag and bow, cleared his face of all emotion, and headed up toward the deck. Toward Auri, and toward home.

The bell clanged, warning of an impending situation. He ran, just getting there in time to see Auri being carried across the waters on Drashmere's back in the direction of El`ness Nahrral.

He stared after them helplessly.

_I will care for her well. Be not afraid._

_She_ _knows nothing of our home_ , Liran replied. _Nothing of what awaits her there_.

_Trust_ , Drashmere said with great tenderness. Then he blocked Liran from his thoughts—one of the very few beings that had the ability—and Liran looked down and sighed. The hollow ache inside felt like it would eat him alive.

## 15

# Heartache

There really was no comparison. Drashmere slid through the waves like sand through an hourglass. Effortlessly. She had her bag tied to her waist and pushed around to her back and was holding on to Drashmere's neck as he swam. Wolf had jumped overboard with her, but would go nowhere _near_ Drashmere's back. He swam to the side of them.

She leaned in closer to Drashmere. "Is Wolf alright?"

_He is fine_ , Drashmere replied to her mind. _Thou hast named thy wolf Wolf?_

Auri laughed. "Very unoriginal of me, I know."

_No_ , Drashmere argued. _It suits him well_.

"Why did you come?"

_I sensed thy pain. I have been following thy vessel._

"Why didn't you sense me before?"

_Before, I didn't know what I was looking for. Now, I do_. They were silent as he swam through the waters, and she rested her cheek against the side of his neck. Her heart burned with pain. Her cheeks were still wet with tears. Soon, that salt mixed with the salt of the ocean as it continuously splashed her face with small droplets. _If thou needs to talk, blessed one,_ Drashmere said quietly _, I am here._

Auri noted the odd name that he called her by, but refrained from asking. "I don't know where to start." It felt perfectly natural speaking to a sea dragon who was swimming through the Sea of Mists and she riding upon his back. It would probably feel natural speaking to him in _any_ situation. A bond had formed quickly between the two of them. A deep, thrumming sound vibrated through Drashmere's body in response to her thoughts. She tightened her hold on his neck.

_Perhaps with the elf Liran_ , Drashmere suggested.

She let the sound of the ocean calm her a little as she thought about what she wanted to say. She gulped the tangy air as it whipped past her face and tangled through her hair. The spray from a large wave shot up and drenched her pants to her thighs, even sitting as high up as she was on Drashmere's back. The water was cold, she could feel that, but it didn't bother her. The cold never did. "I have grown to love him," she murmured finally. "He does not feel the same. That is the reason for the pain."

Drashmere swam in silence for many minutes. _He_ _cares for thee_ , he replied eventually, his voice inside of her head only a whisper now. _Liran is . . . different. He has been blessed in both mind and body to be able to surpass even the most talented of elven-kind, and in this he has always stood apart. He has been alone for a long time. If he has told thee that he cannot be with thee, then he must feel that he has a good reason for doing so._

"Are you sure . . . that he cares about me?"

_I am sure. It permeates his entire being. I can feel it even now. I can smell it even now._

Drashmere could smell it? Auri blinked rapidly as sea-spray splashed her eyes and stung them. She buried her face against the dragon's neck and closed her eyes. The seas were getting rougher; the waves higher. She tried to look upward to the skies, but couldn't see through the mists. Perhaps a storm was coming. . .

_Thou_ _hast left another back on thy ship who cares for thee as well_.

She sighed against Drashmere's slightly warmer body, feeling the warmth of his scales wash over her. She kept her face tucked into the side of his neck as she answered. "Nachal. His name is Nachal. I know nothing else about him aside from the fact that he stole onto the ship, and hid in the cargo hold for nearly a se'nnight."

_Wouldst thou like me to tell thee about him?_

"Didn't you just meet him as well?"

_I know him, now that I have met him._

She thought about that statement, and how it must mean something different for Drashmere than it did for her. "Do you mean that you know everything there is to know about him now?"

_I touched his skin, and coiled warmth within his heart. I know him._

She sat in stunned amazement. He knew all about a person as soon as he touched them? "Is that normal for dragons?" she asked.

_I am not a normal dragon, and my history is a lengthy one that I will share with thee at another time if thou wishes it. For now, know that I have been blessed by elven-kind. That, coupled with my natural abilities as a dragon, enables me to_ know _in this manner._

Auri nodded against the warm, smooth wetness of his scales. She cracked one eye open and glanced at Wolf. He was struggling more in the rougher waters, but still keeping up with them. "Tell me," she said.

_I will tell thee what I feel are the pertinent parts, blessed one. If thou hast questions, couldst thou please hold them until the end?_

"Agreed."

_His heritage is unknown to me, because it is unknown to him. He has been raised a prince, adopted as a fosterling by the great Dragon King Cerralys._

Auri's mind buzzed at that title, but she held her tongue.

Drashmere chuckled. _Thou hast control. That is good._ Then he continued. _Nachal has been raised by dragon-kind, for the Dragon-King Cerralys is also the head of the council of the Luminari, or, in the common tongue, the Dragons of Light. Because of this, he is a being from two different worlds: the human world and the dragon world. He finds it hard to fit in with either, being neither completely one nor the other. Do not misunderstand me, he is fully human. But because he was raised among dragon-kind, he has a duality of nature that creates friction and uncertainty in his life._

The rumbling voice inside of her mind went silent and she thought about the information that she had just been given. Nachal was a human prince, raised among dragons: two separate worlds. Her heart squeezed in sympathy. She understood what that felt like.

Except for him it was probably the opposite. He would, because of his lack of a dragon's natural abilities, feel the need to prove himself and fight harder to fit in amongst the dragons that surrounded him, while she had been content to hide herself away, neither caring nor believing that she would ever fit in amongst the humans of Ardalan's courts.

"Is he a good man?"

_Yes . . . but he is young, both in body and in mind._

" _I_ am young."

_Thou hast other abilities that give thee a natural wisdom and grace that he lacks._

"What does it matter that he is young? What does that have to do with being good?"

_It has nothing so much to do with being good as it has to do with his reactions and the depth of his thoughts and emotions. I am just cautioning thee._

She thought about that for a while. "Can you tell me why he cares about me? Even with all that you've explained, it still seems so hard for me to understand. I've just met him."

Drashmere was quiet for a long time. When he started speaking again, the rumbling voice that echoed within her mind was subdued with pain.

_For some time he has dreamt of thee. I am unsure why this is. The dragons have the Gift of Dreams, given to them by the elven queen, Queen Alera. But as a human, Nachal shouldst not have this. Through these dreams, he has come to know thee and come to love thee_.

"He dreams of me? I don't understand. What sort of dreams?"

_His dreams are of battle and bloodshed, and much loss._

Her heart seized. Loss? She felt a thrumming vibrate through Drashmere's skin again as he tried to offer her silent solace. She took it, curling further into the protective cove of his body, closing her eyes tighter against the wind and waves that heaved around her.

"I am in the battle?" she asked in a small voice.

_Yes_.

"Do I survive?"

_That is ._ . . _unclear_.

Unclear. Her survival was unclear. Her body started to tremble as she clung tightly to Drashmere. Hot liquid poured from her eyes. She wasn't afraid of dying, but the timing seemed so unfair. Not now, when so much had come into her life that she wished to live for.

Drashmere stopped swimming and craned his neck so that he was looking at her. He cradled his cheek against hers and hummed his lullaby deep within the mountainous caverns of his chest.

That moment was one that she would remember forever. Stopped in the middle of the Eldrian Ocean on the back of a sea dragon, her cheek pressed against his, hot pain and anguish burning inside of her still-aching chest, the wind and waves tossing and crashing against them as she listened absently to the sound of his bass, throaty hum, and then feeling the warmth again as it began to fill the cold cavity of her heart with peace.

"Drashmere," Auri whispered.

The humming stopped; the opaque eyes opened. _Yes?_

"Thank you for coming to get me. For everything."

He sighed deeply, and rubbed his warm snout against her cheek. _Shall we continue toward El`ness Nahrral? Thy wolf feels exceedingly bedraggled and weary._

Auri nodded, looking over at Wolf trying to tread water in the turbulent waters beside them. "Do you mind if Wolf climbs up? Will he hurt you with his claws?"

_I do not mind. He will not harm me with his small claws; my hide is very thick and my scales are strong._

She called to the wolf across the wind and the waves. "Wolf, climb up on Drashmere."

After a moment, Drashmere chuckled. _He is indignant. I believe his feelings are very far advanced for one of his kind._

Auri glared at the animal in frustration. He would drown himself, it seemed, before he climbed up behind her to safety. Was everyone she met from here on out going to be so stubborn?

_Dost thou want my help?_

"Please," Auri replied softly. She held on tight as Drashmere stretched out his long neck and plucked Wolf from the seas, putting him carefully down behind her. Wolf growled low in his throat, shaking the water droplets from his fur and showering her with them.

"Hush," Auri said, as he curled his still drenched body up beside her. "It's better than drowning."

## 16

# Vi`dal

The waves grew calmer the farther they swam, until they were almost completely still, like blue-grey glass. Then, suddenly, Drashmere stopped. Auri uncurled herself from around his neck and opened her eyes, only to have her breath whoosh out of her in surprise.

_I can take thee no farther. I must resume my watch._ He nodded toward the isle with his long snout. _They will escort thee to the Elder City, El` dell_.

"Who . . . are _they_?" she asked in awe.

_The Vi` dal_.

She stared in open mouthed astonishment. At least fifty elves stood on the beach awaiting them. They stood in a straight line, arms stiff at their sides, faces fierce yet beautiful. Every single pair of eyes was locked on her. As she watched, they all brought their hands to their hearts in synchronous movement, clenched their fists over their chests, and dropped their heads, looking down at the glittering bronze sand beneath their bare feet.

"What are they doing?" she whispered.

Drashmere chuckled in answer. She didn't take that as a particularly good sign.

_They have calmed the waters for thee, blessed one. Swim ashore to thy home. I will see thee again very soon._

He twisted his neck and nuzzled her face gently with his warm snout. She clutched him to her tightly for a minute, and then released him with a sigh. "Why do I get the feeling that you know more than you are willing to tell me?" she asked quietly as she climbed down and slid into the cold waters.

_Because thou art intelligent and astute._

"Flattery will get you nowhere," she said with a smile.

Drashmere laughed. _It got me a smile. Go. I will see thee soon._

She flattened out her body over the water, and brought her arms down to slice through. After a few strokes, she stopped and looked back. Drashmere was still there, watching her with a gentle look on his face, his sightless eyes pinned exactly to her position. She floated casually in the shifting currents of the cold water as she watched him. Then she gave a little sigh and turned around, making once again for the shore. When her feet could touch down, she stood and walked slowly forward, uncertain of what she was walking into. Wolf was already ahead of her, shaking a mass of droplets from his fur. When he was done, she dropped her hand down to rest on his neck, and they waited.

A figure separated itself from the others and came to stand before her. He had long, chestnut-brown hair, twilight colored eyes, and pale, golden skin. His face was angular with sharp cheekbones and slightly tipped ears. He bowed his head slightly. When he spoke, her muscles froze in surprise.

"I am Falvír. I will escort you and your wolf companion to the queen." His voice was melodic. Not feminine, just melodic. Like notes plucked from an instrument with strings, his voice went up and down the note scale with precision, causing an odd feeling to blossom inside of her, all the way from the tips of her toes up to the crown of her head. Even after he was done speaking, the clear notes continued ringing inside of her head and chest. Why didn't _her_ voice sound like that?

"I have other companions on their way in a vessel. A human, a dwarf, and another elf."

Falvír looked surprised, she didn't know by which, but he kept his mouth closed and gazed once out toward the open sea before turning back to her. His eyes were filled with curiosity, but normal otherwise. They didn't shine with light as Liran's did.

"I will leave some of my men here to await your other companions. If I may ask, what is the name of the elf that travels with you?"

Auri watched his face closely as she said the name. "Liran."

Falvír's eyes widened in shock, before he quickly composed himself. "I'll leave fewer men then," he said, his voice grinding out the lower notes of the music scale. Auri winced at the discord.

"I'm sorry," she said hesitantly. "But why would you now leave fewer men?"

Falvír looked at her strangely. "Do you not know with whom you travel?" At her surprised look, his eyes dropped, and he murmured an apology. "I am sorry, my lady. I have been out of company for far too long. It has loosened my manners."

Auri laughed. "Something we have in common then," she said. Wolf bumped her leg in disagreement, and Falvír's hand shot out to prevent her from falling. He instantly pulled it back, staring at her arm—the place where his skin had touched hers—as if it were suddenly going to cause him to combust into flames.

He swallowed and turned to look her in the eyes. That was an odd reaction. What? Was something wrong with her? She voiced the thought aloud. "Something wrong?"

"No," Falvír whispered. "I was just . . . surprised. Your lifetouch is like what touching lightning must feel like, the strongest I've ever felt before."

Auri blinked. "My . . . what?"

Falvír smiled slightly as he backed away a pace. He seemed to do this grudgingly. As if he was following the orders of the soldier half of him instead of the elven half. The elven half still looked slightly awed and . . . hungry. Auri shifted uncomfortably. She shouldn't have left Liran. She had no idea what anything was or what anything meant. It was like they were speaking a different language.

"Your lifetouch."

"That word doesn't mean anything to me," she explained. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A swift shadow of surprise flitted through his eyes before he mastered it. "A lifetouch is the force that an elf has on nature. All elves have it to some degree."

"How do you touch nature? What does that mean?"

His lips slightly pursed in thought. "The sea. My men and I were able to calm it for you once we felt your presence and once Drashmere alerted us that he was carrying an elf to our shores. But it took all of us just for this little section of water."

Auri tried not to smile. His 'little section' amounted to several dozen kilometers of sea. The urge to smile left her completely at his next words.

"With your power, it is my guess that you would have been able to do it without any other help, and probably expanded it to include most of the waters."

She sucked in a surprised breath—a gasp really—and stared at him in astonishment. It was his turn to look uncomfortable. "Did the commander speak to you about any of this?" He swept his arm back toward the thick, massive forest behind him. She followed the sweep of his arm and noticed the other elves behind him were still staring down at the bronze sand with their hands fisted over the skin of their heart.

"About any—ˮ Her eyes flicked to the other elves again then back to Falvír. She leaned closer to him. "Could you please ask them to relax?" she whispered in frustration. Was this the common greeting for _all_ elves?

Falvír smiled slightly, twisted his neck around, and gave a sharp, barking order in a tongue that she didn't understand. The elves immediately relaxed with their arms held loosely at their sides, and their gazes out toward the sea, respectfully away from her and Falvír. She sighed in relief and looked back at the commander. "About any of what, Commander?"

His twilight eyes tensed. "I do not hold that title, my lady. The elf that you travel with does."

Liran? Commander? She tried to remember if he had told her that, but could only remember him saying that he was a member of the Vi`dal, not its commander. "How does a military function without its commanding officer?" she asked in surprise.

"I have been called as temporary leader of the Vi`dal until his return. Is he . . . returning?"

Auri stared at him. "I don't know," she said quietly. He nodded.

"Would you like to wait for them before we move inward?"

She turned, searching the horizon for ships. There weren't any. Drashmere was gone as well. "I think we should proceed. They will catch up with us when they can."

He nodded, a precise slice of motion, bowed his head, and turned toward the Vi`dal with another quick command. " _Elriya oralthay_."

The elves nodded sharply, and moved to surround her until she was completely encased in the middle of them. Her chest felt like it was trying to seize her throat. She cleared it. "Is this really necessary?"

Another quick command and forty or so elves retreated behind her in a perfectly straight line. About ten still surrounded her, blossoming outward to form a looser semi-circle. She breathed again. Better. But still. . . She surreptitiously eyed them, briefly considering leaving them all behind and going by _herself_ to El`dell.

"I would prefer if you remained with us, my lady. Leaving would only necessitate the need for us to track you, leaving you open for possible attack."

Her face settled into disgruntlement, and Falvír's mouth twitched suspiciously. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he looked away from her in polite, restrained amusement. Then his body stiffened, forming hard lines and angles as he stared outward to the Sea of Mists.

"The commander comes," he said softly, his melodic voice subdued with a strange tension.

Auri turned quickly; Wolf turned with her. Together they watched the Tide Skimmer slow as the sails were tacked. The anchor was dropped and it stopped altogether, floating gently on the softly turning waves.

From across the distance she could feel his gaze cutting into her, searching and probing her for pain or discomfort. Falvír looked out of the corner of his eye toward her in mute surprise then backed gently away another pace. Auri sighed. Was it possible for her to understand _any_ of the things that were going on? Questions bubbled like lava in her mind, waiting for the right person to spew out in a cascade of molten magma.

A figure dove into the sea so gracefully that she drew in a surprised breath. His body cut through the liquid as it dripped in arcs, pin-wheeling around his arms as they continued their powerful, fluid movements. The shore where she stood had gone silent. Even Wolf's breath had quieted. They waited. Her stomach clenched.

A smaller vessel dropped down beside the larger, released from its holding ropes. Two figures got in: Nachal and the dwarf. Her eyes flicked from them back to the elf tirelessly slicing closer toward her with every second that passed. Her heart thudded.

"Now might be a good time to go," she whispered in a choked voice.

Falvír stiffened and turned to look at her with a shocked eyebrow raised. She flashed him a pained grimace before turning back toward Liran, who was now walking in the shallows with a grace that should have been illegal. His eyes were brightly lit, glowing clearly from across the distance between them. They were pinned to her face. The breath slowly hissed out of her lungs. He didn't look furious, as she might have expected, he looked . . . relieved. His clothes dripped onto the sand, the droplets sparkling in the sun like miniature prisms. His slightly golden skin was pale. His movements were very precise.

She watched all this and swallowed. "Can I tell you something?" she whispered to Falvír as Liran cleared the shallows and now walked through water that was only a few inches deep.

Liran's eyes shot toward Falvír in a sharp, cutting gesture. She could hear Falvír swallow audibly. "Maybe you shouldn't, my lady," he replied in a voice just as low. Not that it hid anything from the elf who was nearly upon them. The elf who was probably sifting—even though he had told her he couldn't anymore—through her mind. Searching. Analyzing.

She ignored Falvír's weakness and whispered one of her own in a nearly inaudible breath. "Sometimes I wonder why he doesn't frighten me. Looking at him now, it seems like that should be my logical reaction."

Falvír whispered back, with barely any sound escaping his mouth. "It's definitely mine."

She bit back a smile and watched as Liran drew level with her. The Vi`dal made a path for him, straight down the center. He didn't acknowledge them. His eyes probed hers.

"You are without injury," he said. A statement. She nodded. His stiff shoulders loosened; the angles of his face softened. He turned to Falvír who had drawn up in regal, dignified bearing, and spouted off what sounded like rapid-fire commands. Falvír nodded, his chestnut hair blowing slightly around his face, his twilight eyes hooded, and turned on his heel, calling behind him to the other elves as he left. They all filed past her one by one, nodding respectfully to her and Liran as they joined the others and melded into the trees like spirits.

Liran turned to her. His blazing, golden-amber eyes were nearly flaming in their intensity. Her face must have shown shock, because he dropped his gaze to the sand as he took a step backward. He closed his eyes, dropping his head wearily down until his chin nearly hit his chest. He suddenly looked . . . vulnerable. Like a mythological figure that had suddenly become mortal.

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," he said in his husky rasp. "I can't . . ." He drew in a ragged breath and looked up at her. Everything went still inside of her as she searched his face. There was pain there, and a plea. "I _can't_ give you what you ask. I hope that one day you'll understand why. But please, Auri"—his eyes closed again, clenching tightly against the hard planes of his face—" _please_ . . ."

"Please what?"

His eyes opened again, speaking the words that he couldn't seem to say. Her heartbeat shot forward, thudding madly beneath her breastbone. "Look inside of me," she whispered. His eyes deepened, searching. She held herself very still, allowing him to find what his eyes told her he desperately needed. When he found it, the muscles of his body unclenched themselves. The taut lines around his eyes and mouth softened. His brow softened. His eyes filled with an emotion that she couldn't define, somewhere between gratitude and wonder.

The muscles around her stomach trembled, shuddering madly. Her heart beat out a staccato rhythm in her ears as he leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss against her cheek. "Thank you," he whispered against it, and then he walked away, melding into the trees where the Vi`dal had disappeared.

Auri watched the small boat pull ashore, wincing as the sand ground against the bottom. Her nerves were completely frayed by this point. She didn't have the strength to go through another encounter. She turned and slowly headed into the trees as well.

## 17

# El`dell

El`ness Nahrral was breathtaking. They had been traveling for several days in silence. Nachal and Dhurmic had joined them with hardly a word. The Vi`dal led them through deep forests with trees so high and so thick they formed a dense, broad canopy that blocked nearly all of the sky above. It was as if they had stepped onto another world rather than a distant isle.

Underneath the thick, green sky, was paradise. Water flowed everywhere Auri looked. Streams, lakes, waterfalls, rivers, they all fed the plants and animals in an ecosystem that was far superior to anything on Terradin. Not that she had seen all of Terradin, of course, but she couldn't imagine anything better than what her eyes were seeing now.

Liran came up behind her, silent as always. "It's beautiful isn't it?"

"I don't think that word quite covers it," she replied, looking around her as though she were in a dream. She spotted another deer-like animal gazing at them from the opposite shore of the river. "The animals. They're different here."

"They have no fear of being hunted, that's part of it. The other . . . El`ness Nahrral changes things. Given enough time, it will change you too."

She looked up at his intent eyes. "For the better?"

He looked away without answering.

A moment later Falvír joined them. He dipped his head respectfully to Liran, and Liran looked away without acknowledgment. This exact sequence of events had happened often over the past few days. Falvír was always respectful, deferential, but Liran just ignored him.

"We are only hours outside of the Elder City. Did you want to stop for a while or keep pushing forward?"

She looked over at Liran who was looking off into the distance with a faraway look in his eyes. She touched his arm to get his attention. He flinched. "Liran?"

He turned. His golden-amber eyes had grown brighter. "The queen will meet you at the tiered waterfalls on the northern edge of the city," he said with no inflection at all to his raspy voice.

"Alright." She turned back to Falvír who was still waiting. "We'll go on ahead. Thank you for escorting us. It was nice getting to know a few of you."

Falvír smiled, bowed slightly, and walked swiftly away.

Auri watched him go. "Why do you disregard the respect of those who serve under you?"

She turned, waiting for his response. It was a long time in coming. "My life is different now," he said in a low voice. " _I_ am different now. Becoming a Watcher has changed me too much. I am no longer the person I once was."

"Better or worse?"

He stared intently into her eyes again before he looked away. "I'll let you know someday," he rasped.

She nodded and started forward along the path they had been following toward El`dell, and then stopped and turned when Liran remained where he was. "Aren't you coming?"

He shook his head. "It would be inappropriate."

She started to argue that, and then stopped at the expression of mute pain in his eyes. He turned and walked away. She sighed and started forward, grateful that the path was very visible and clear. Her mind was far from where she was headed. It was on what she left behind.

When she reached El`dell, her feet stopped of their own accord, and she looked around her with an awed hunger. Hunger because . . . this was the home that should have been hers. Awe because it was exquisite.

Huge, white trees, each several hundred yards around, formed the support for white archways as far as her eyes could see. The pavilions extended all over the city, one archway flowing gracefully to the next. Vines twisted up the length of them, with a riot of golden-white blossoms covering the thick, green vines.

Although the trees were massive here, they didn't block the light. And, somehow, the light was different here. It seemed a brighter, cleaner light. Not diffused through thick grey clouds or the smoke or ash that sometimes filled the skies on Terradin. It was pure. Beautiful. It bathed the green city in a sort of haloed glow. The exact physical manifestation of what peace might look like, if given half a chance.

She walked through the pavilions, watching the pure rays of sunlight dance on her skin, illuminating it. When she could tear her eyes away from the odd effect the light had on her skin, she looked around her, hungry for all that she could see.

Adults seemed to be in the minority here; there were mostly adolescent elves. Some were very young, only a few years or so, and others seemed to be only a few years younger than her own age, a score and one. After more than an hour of seeing the same thing repeated again and again, she began to grow faintly uneasy. What had happened to the adults? There were so few. . . The uneasy feeling intensified as the atmosphere surrounding her finally registered. A sadness hovered like fine dew, misting everything and everyone.

Uneasiness burrowed deeper within her; it made her legs move quicker. Before she knew it, she was running, passing them all by with only the dim realization that she was doing so.

She raced through the trellised archways until they led out gracefully to a rocky point at the north-eastern edge of the city. It was covered for miles in waterfalls. They fell in tiers, from the highest point above—a mix of rock and green, verdant grass melded into a low-slung mountain—down to the river that rushed past her feet. Each tier fell with grace and light. The pure light shimmered through the clear water, throwing rainbows of color into the sky.

In the distance, set on another hill above the one that loomed in front of her, was a dense network of huge, white trees, and in their center was a large structure. From this distance, she could make out archways lining the outside, with much of it open to the sun shining down upon it. Like a castle, but not. An elven castle. One that took the existing surroundings and interweaved them into the structure of the building. Elegant. Beautiful.

She twisted around, looking for the queen, but there was no one in sight. So she sat on one of the boulders and stared at the water passing her by, trying to focus her thoughts. If she had never met Liran, had never seen things through his eyes, she might have been unable to piece things together. But, unfortunately, things were beginning to make a terrible sort of sense. Liran's reaction on the ship . . . the lack of any adult elves . . . the subdued atmosphere. . . She dropped her head to her shaking hand and covered her eyes. _Oh no! Please let it just be my imagination!_

"It is not your imagination, dear one. You see things clearly."

Auri swung her head up in the direction of the voice. On the boulder adjacent to her—a boulder that even now was readjusting itself to fit the contours of the being that sat upon it—was a luminous elf. Her hair was the color of pale gold, and her elegant brows were knit over eyes of clear-blue beauty. Terrible, sad eyes. Her gown was white, with a golden-white rosebud belt cinched around her waist. The gown flowed over her gracefully from the simple, unadorned neckline, past the golden trim at her elegant v-shaped sleeves, all the way down to the simple embroidered hem that fell to just above her bare toes.

Queen Alera.

The rock finished melding to the queen's form, and she sat regally, gazing at Auri with intense, piercing eyes. They were silent as they stared at each other. The sound of the water, of the wind passing through the midst of the trees, of the children playing in the grass courtyard behind them, of the dying, hollow city quieted. A faint, shimmering glow began to light up the queen's skin. The quiet became magnified. Thicker.

"You look exactly like your mother," the queen finally whispered, her voice filling the quiet exactly like a clap of thunder would fill a deathly still night.

"You knew her?"

"Yes. Jenna was my sister. The other half to my soul. My dearest friend."

It was not something that she had ever been able to do before, but, right then, Auri tried to feel her way past the masked façade that the queen was showing her. Instantly, she felt the terrible sadness. The loss was more than missing someone who was dearly loved, but also a terrible, ripping loss of self. The queen had spoken true.

"My mother was your sister?" she whispered in confusion. She closed her eyes, trying to think. Suddenly, she remembered. A dark-haired elf, standing before two thrones in a room of dappled light and twisting vines. Her regal bearing. Her passion. Her refusal to sit idly by while others suffered. Her confusion and sadness that the being on the throne could.

She opened her eyes, certain that her intuition was right. That elf had been her mother. She had belonged, had that soul-deep authority, because she was next in line for the throne. She hadn't been challenging the monarchy; she had been challenging her sister. And she had been heartbroken that her sister would sit and do nothing while others suffered. That her sister wouldn't listen. Wouldn't help.

She rose, fury filling her chest with heat. "You abandoned her! She asked for your help, and you refused." She was trembling. Trembling in fear. In anger. In pain. "How could you leave all of those people to die? How could you abandon them? They needed you. They _still_ need you." Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. " _She_ needed you." Her voice went completely hoarse as the tears finally spilled past her lashes.

Alera didn't offer any excuses. "Yes."

Auri looked down, away from the intensity of the queen's eyes, and closed her own, fighting for control. "Elves are supposed to care for the lands," she whispered. "At the very least, they are supposed to care for one another. What kind of being does these things and feels no remorse?"

The queen laughed. The cold sound—coming from such beauty—was a sort of desecration. "Your beliefs are naïve," she said harshly.

Auri's head snapped up. "She was my _mother_. She was your _sister_!" she shouted. "What kind of person are you that you could do such things?"

The boulder rose, and Alera stood. "I am the person who is trying to save the world, Aurelias," she said quietly, "hard as that may be for you to understand. The person who is trying to save my people. The person who is fighting it all, holding it all together by the autonomy of my being." Her voice went deeper, not in pitch but in intensity. It struck down to the marrow of Auri's bones, sinking into every fibrous tissue within her, echoing inside the caverns of her soul with some mystical power. "I _loved_ her. More than you can possibly know. I miss her every day, every hour, and whether you choose to believe me or not, it breaks my heart that she never got the chance to know you."

Auri was still standing, dragging deep, choking breaths into her lungs, fighting the urge to sit down on the boulder behind her and sob for everything that was lost. For the pain that racked her. For the pain and anguish that she saw in the queen. For a dying world.

"She saw something worth _fighting_ for. Are the people of Terradin so far removed from you here? Are they not worth saving?"

Alera went to stand at the very edge of the water. It rose and danced in front of her, twisting through the air like an acrobat, spinning and hurtling itself across the expanse of waves that lapped gently at the shore. She lifted a hand into the air and it settled, becoming only crystal-clear water once more. "I _am_ trying to save them, Aurelias," she said quietly.

Auri laughed, a harsh, broken sound. "How? By saving yourself?"

Alera turned sharply. "Yes."

Auri laughed again; tears coursed down her face. " _You_ are not the world, Alera. You are hiding here where death cannot touch you. You are a _coward_."

Alera flamed. Her hair glowed like molten gold. Her eyes lit like blue fire. "Where death cannot touch me?" she whispered, stricken. Gaunt lines deepened against her face. Her cheeks sunk in, as if their fullness had been merely an illusion before. She shrunk, becoming diminutive, becoming hollow. "Follow me," she ordered harshly.

They climbed. Wolf—Auri only just realized that he was with them—followed them. They climbed the face of the low-slung mountain in front of them by a path that twisted and wound along the far side. Water cascaded past them, crisscrossing the path and drowning out every other sound. When they reached the top, they came out on the opposite side. Wolf stood with her as they looked at the water rushing past them. It flowed from a wide river far to the north. East of the river was a series of archway paths, just like the ones below. Alera walked quickly, quietly, through the arched trellis paths. Her white gown billowed out behind her, trailing whisperingly along the shadowed walkway.

Inside the trellis archways were pavilions. Pavilions that were filled almost overflowing with the sick and the dying. The smell of decay hit Auri's nostrils hard, involuntarily forcing her to stagger backward a step. When she recovered, she lowered her hand and kept it firmly at her side. The elves in the room—those few that had enough strength left to lift their heads—turned to stare at them. Immediately some held their hands up in supplication, and the queen went swiftly over to them, giving them comfort, giving them hope, touching them with the light that fell softly from her now like the dying rays of the sun. Auri swallowed.

The queen turned, and her voice was like a whipcord across Auri's mind. She flinched from the pain as it flayed into her. _I_ see _the suffering, Aurelias. My days are_ filled _with the suffering of my people. My nights are filled with the suffering of the land. My heart burns. My soul aches. I cannot stop this._

"Who can?" Auri whispered with barely a breath of air. She knew that the queen would hear.

_You_.

Auri flinched again. She? She looked away from the intensity of her aunt's eyes.

_Follow me. There is something that I want you to witness._

She followed Alera again through yet more passageways. The golden-white blossomed canopies above smelled like a profusion of richly scented life; the pavilions to their left like all-encompassing death. El`ness Nahrral was dying. The reason that children roamed the cities was because there were few mature elves anymore. The older, the weaker, were dying first, and then would come. . . She looked down at the path; tears dripped down her face. And then would come the children. She put a shaking hand to her stomach. Sickness smoldered.

Alera stopped ahead of her, briefly letting her catch up, and then she wove her way through the stone courtyard, avoiding the—Air hissed out of Auri's chest; she felt herself sway.

Avoiding the dead.

She stared around her in horror, small, broken sounds escaping her lips. Her breath sped up. The sickness smoldering in the pit of her stomach intensified. She turned around and dropped to her knees to throw up. Suddenly, Liran's arms came around her. He drew her gently to her feet when her stomach had emptied, and held her. His face was shattered and hollow. His eyes burned into hers.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he whispered.

"You knew," she whimpered, closing her eyes. "This was what Drashmere told you on the ship."

She felt his hand on her face, cradling it. "Yes," he rasped.

His hand took hers, gently drawing her over to a low stone wall on the far side of the courtyard. He drew her down to sit next to him. His body was tense now. Expectant. His burning eyes focused intently on Alera and then flashed to the entrance of the courtyard. To the person who stepped hesitantly in and then looked around the stone enclosure in horror.

To Nachal.

Nachal's eyes rose to the being standing in the very center of the dead. Liran tensed a split second before Alera spoke.

"You have come to save her, knowing that this might cut short your own life. Do you do this of your own free will?"

Nachal slowly turned away from Alera—to her. The dead filled the distance between them. His deep, grey eyes were hard and intense. From across the distance she watched the emotions flash through them: determination, desperation, love. Liran went rigid. She tried to rise, but he only held her hand more firmly. "He doesn't want you to interfere," he said, his voice raspier and harsher than usual. "This is his choice."

Nachal turned back toward Alera. "I do," he said clearly. Then he stumbled back a step in surprise, holding his hands up to his eyes to shield them from the brightness of the being facing him.

Molten gold poured from Alera's head, spilling down her back. Blue fire shot from her eyes. A miasma of palpable golden energy and light radiated from her, lighting up the darkening, dusky sky. She raised her hand and Nachal staggered heavily, going down on one knee. Tears streamed from his eyes, down his face. His body shuddered, massively at first, and then, as his other knee hit the dirt, in tiny, minute shudders that shook his entire body like aftershocks from an earthquake.

The earth rumbled beneath their feet. Auri barely noticed; she kept her eyes glued to the figure whose head had dropped down to his chest. To the figure who knelt in the middle of the dead elves surrounding him, shaking.

Alera's voice crashed through her mind like thunder, echoing all the way through her. Inescapable. The sound beat into her chest like an orchestra of deep bass drums, cracking the earth, splitting it into seams and slivers that ran from the ground around her, all the way up the stone wall at her back. Liran's hand clenched hers tighter in warning, but she couldn't rip her eyes from the human kneeling twenty yards in front of her.

Alera glided forward. Each step of her bare feet on the stone made it light with radiance from beneath. Wind tore through the courtyard, causing her white dress to billow around her, ripping through her golden hair, making it halo out behind her.

Nachal raised his head. It looked as though it took all of his effort just to do it. His grey eyes were bloodshot. His face and skin had gone chalk-pale. There was hollowness in his eyes, an aching misery as he stared at the queen. As though—for one instant of time—he understood her pain. He shared it.

His body started to glow, like flameless fire was burning within him. His skin glowed iridescent. His hair looked like it was tinged with golden flames. His eyes shot forward brilliant, piercing rays, illuminating upward as his head fell back and he gasped air into his chest. He drew in one more desperate gasp, and then his chest shuddered still, and his body slowly fell to the earth.

Alera came to a stop at his fallen, still body. Her calm voice carried to Auri despite the wind whipping around them. "Use it well," she said quietly. She bent to touch his still chest, and air filled it suddenly, making it expand, making her hand rise with it. "Save her. Save us all." She rose from her crouch, and left the courtyard of the dead, heading back to the dying below her.

Auri tore her hand from Liran's and started running. She fell to her knees at Nachal's feet, her chest rising and falling quickly with each painful gasp of her vise-ridden chest. The light slowly trickled from Nachal's body, until finally . . . it was completely gone.

He opened his eyes. His normal, unlit eyes.

"Why?" she cried desperately, tears streaming down her face, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "Why would you do this?"

His face shuddered, rippling outward like waves through his body. His grey eyes were sad. His voice, when he spoke, was hoarse with shock and pain. It wheezed from his chest in a breathless, grinding sound. "If you were given . . . one chance—" he paused, closed his eyes, and then opened them again more slowly "—one chance to save someone you loved . . . wouldn't you take it?" His eyes ate at her face hungrily. Then they went blank and his head went slack, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

"Nachal?" Auri cried, quickly reaching for him.

"He's not dead, only unconscious," Liran's voice assured from behind. She turned to him with Nachal's head pillowed on her lap.

"I don't understand," she whispered brokenly. "I don't understand _any_ of this."

He crouched down next to her. His voice was very gentle. "You are heir to the elven throne. More than that, you are the only hope for this world, and for our people." He looked down at Nachal. "She has changed him. Made him more like us, with a few of our abilities and gifts, but still human. She believes that only _he_ can save you, and through you . . . Terradin."

Auri stared at him in shock. He reached out with strong fingers and took her free hand within his own. "There is more." His eyes lit with a strange light. Intense, but . . . awed. She trembled in trepidation.

"The Dragon-King Cerralys. He is your father."

## 18

# No Going Back

Nachal awoke slowly, painfully. His body felt like it had been doused in fire and then been encased in an iceberg. Not good. He raised a shaky hand to his face, keeping his eyes closed, and twitched, startled, when he felt a gentle pressure come down on his shoulder. His eyes blinked open slowly. Auri.

"Auri," he croaked. "What—ˮ

He looked around him, blinking heavily a few times to clear whatever was wrong with his eyes. It took him a few moments to realize that there was _nothing_ wrong with his eyes. They were just different. Changed.

He had been changed. Alera had graced him.

"Do you always see this way?" he asked, bringing his hand closer to his eyes and staring at it in amazement.

Auri cleared her throat. "What way?"

He dropped his hand and looked at her face. The moonlight illuminating her face was unnecessary. He could see everything. Each subtle pigment of her skin. Each curved eyelash. The shape of her tense, sad mouth, and the pain that hovered visibly in eyes that were the exact replica of her father's. Her furrowed brow. Her slight trembling. He could see everything. It was all clearer than if the brightest light were illuminating her.

"Everything," he answered.

She looked away. "I don't see everything, Nachal," she said quietly. "Far from it. If I saw everything I wouldn't be so confused right now." Her eyes found his face again. "Why did you do this?"

"I told you the reason."

"Your reason doesn't make sense. You don't know me enough to love me."

He looked up. A night hawk was soaring through the sky. He could make out each of its feathers and the faint yellow glass of its eyes. It soared on the wind. Free. Majestic and powerful. The darkened sky above him should have made it impossible for him to see. But he could. His stomach clenched as he turned back to her, preparing for what he knew he had to say.

"I love you, Auri. I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable." He closed his eyes, not wanting to see that expression on her face. It hurt too much. "I have dreamed about you for months now. In them, I was able to see inside of you, to the person that lies beneath your skin. To your heart and soul. From the dreams, I grew to respect you, admire you, and then, later, to love you. I can't change that. I can't suddenly make myself not love you." He opened his eyes again to see her staring intently at him. There was no expression in her eyes, only intense concentration on his words. "But I won't force myself on you. I would like to be your friend."

"A friend who hopes to save me?"

"Yes." He rolled his head to the side, and tried to breathe evenly.

"What happened? What did she do to you?"

Nachal smiled grimly, still trying to take even, measured breaths. "She changed me. Graced me with different abilities." He flexed the muscles and tendons in his body, stretching them and coiling them underneath his skin. "I think I'm stronger now. My vision and hearing are changed as well."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking away.

"Don't," he said shortly. "Don't be sorry. I'm not."

"Well I _am_!" she ground out. "Can you stand?"

Nachal looked around to the dead lying in the mass grave of the courtyard. He closed his eyes and struggled to breathe again, ignoring the pain splintering through his body. He tried to sit up, but struggled until Auri grabbed his shoulder and helped. Then she helped him to his feet. He swayed, dizzy. Auri put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and he leaned into it, afraid that if he moved any more he would end up laid out on the dirt again. After a minute or so, he slowly started moving his legs, shuffling them clumsily forward. Auri kept pace with him as though he were an invalid. He felt very humbled . . . and awkward.

After a few dozen paces, he moved a little more gracefully. Strength was slowly returning. "I think I can manage on my own now," he said quietly. Auri removed her hand, and they walked out of the courtyard. They passed beneath arched trellises and by the open pavilions where the dying slept. He looked in each one as they passed. El`ness Nahrral was dying. It was easy to see that now. It was dying, and both Alera and Cerralys believed that the elf walking next to him was the only way for them to win. That she was vital, and that he was the only one who could save her.

"I didn't just do it because I love you," he murmured as they passed another pavilion. "I did it because I love Eldaria. I love Terradin. And I think that whatever chance we may or may not have should be preserved and protected."

"You believe, like Alera, that I can help?"

He turned to her. "Cerralys believes it as well. He told me before I left to come and find you that, though he doesn't understand it, he feels that you _are_ Terradin."

She turned her face away.

"Sorry," he murmured. "I keep bringing up subjects that are uncomfortable for you. Auri?"

She reluctantly turned to him again.

"I'm not asking for you to stop loving him. I'll take you in whatever capacity you want me in. If all you can offer is friendship, I'll take that. Just please . . . don't shut me out of your life."

She stopped walking. Her eyes were an intense blue, even in the darkness. "I don't want to hurt you more than my presence in your life already has. What you want from me . . . I don't know that I can ever give it."

"All I'm asking for is the chance to be your friend."

Her mouth twisted in a pained grimace.

"Please," he said quietly. "Just a friend." He smiled. "You can help me to keep Dhurmic in line." He said it like it was a full-time job. "You can teach me about your wolf—he gestured to Wolf at Auri's side—and keep the days from passing into monotony on the ship. And, if you would, you could teach me about these new abilities that I seem to have acquired."

She shook her head, smiling slightly, and sighed. "I don't think I'm the best person to show you that. I don't know _how_ to be an elf. I just am."

"Do you think Liran would mind if I asked him?" Nachal asked, quietly, sinking onto the damp grass by the river's edge. They had wound up at the point just at the apex of the tiered waterfalls. It felt like the top of the world to him.

Her eyes held his for a moment, and he read the emotions in them as easily as if he were looking into a mirror at his own reflection. She was confused . . . and in pain. Shadows grew in them as he watched. He lifted a hand, tentatively, slowly. Her gaze fastened upon it like a deer might watch a hunter. Frozen. He brought his hand gently to her face and ran the pad of his thumb down the creases between her brows, trying to smooth them. "Does he feel the same way about you?"

She swallowed and leaned back half an inch, away from his touch. He dropped his hand. She looked like she was debating something, and then she just shook her head and dropped her eyes back to the water.

"I think you're wrong," he said quietly.

"Whether I am or not doesn't matter," she whispered. "He only wants to remain friends. I am respecting his wishes."

He nodded, and silence enveloped them for a time. She twisted to meet his eyes. "Drashmere shared some things with me about you, about your life. Do you mind if I ask you some personal questions?"

He chuckled wryly. "Ask away."

Her hand reached out to strip some grass from the soil. She clutched it tightly for a moment, and then opened her hand again slowly, letting the wind carry it away. It rose in the breeze and drifted peacefully down across the water. "My father," she murmured, watching the progress of the blades of grass. "What is he like?"

While her face was turned away, he studied her. Her question had been laced with pain and uncertainty. So much of it that she couldn't seem to hide it. The uncertainty perhaps he could ease a little, but the pain. . . He could think of nothing that would alleviate that. Nothing that wouldn't just make it worse.

Like the way that his touch did.

Her rejection hurt. He had tried so hard not to care too much, not to fall in love with her. But in the end, it had all been futile. He hadn't realized during those many months of dreaming of her how much his feelings had evolved until it was too late. He closed his eyes on that thought.

Too late.

Thinking back, he thought that maybe as far back as the very first time he had dreamed of her it had been too late. Even then.

He kept his eyes closed as he tried to formulate an adequate response to her question. How could he possibly explain Cerralys to her? How could he help her to understand that she didn't need to feel uncertain about him, that Cerralys would love her, just as he had loved that little nothing of a boy he had adopted so long ago. "He is the best father that anyone could ever ask for," he murmured quietly, a rough catch in his voice.

_Oh, old one. You will lose us both if I can't stop what's coming for her. Me—the orphan you never expected—and Auri, the daughter you never knew you had. The daughter who will cause you so much pain when you see her. When you realize how many years you have lost with her._

He hung his head, trying not to cry and failing. The thought of what this would do to his father tore at him. Cerralys had already had so much pain; he didn't want to bring more to his door. But he had no choice. Auri _was_ his daughter, and he needed to know her. He at least needed the _chance_ to know her. Just the chance, however long or short it may be, to know this incredible person sitting next to him in the dark. A gentle, tentative hand touched his shoulder. He took a deep breath, running a dirty hand over his eyes to obscure the tears before he opened them.

"Cerralys will be devastated when he learns about you," he said huskily. "He thought your mother was dead, Auri. If he had known that she survived, that you survived, he would have searched endlessly for you, and he wouldn't have stopped until he found you. I know that with everything within me. He is not one to give up something so precious, and I know the loss of your mother has haunted him these many years."

Her face clearly spoke her doubts more elegantly than any words might have, but she let it be for the moment, perhaps needing time to digest it. She brought her legs up, and wrapped her arms tightly around them, as though she were holding something inside of her. Her eyes left his to track the gleaming edge of the water as it spilled over the first tier of the waterfall. She was quiet for a long time; her thoughts seemed very far away.

"But what kind of _man_ is he, Nachal?" she finally asked again quietly. "That he would have searched for my mother is nothing more than most would have done. That he would have searched until he found us is perhaps a little more telling, though not much. What kind of man is he in the secret chambers of your home? In the moments when the world is turned away from him and all is quiet."

Nachal didn't even hesitate. "When the world is turned away and all is quiet, he is my friend."

She turned in surprise, and he smiled slightly, shaking his head, searching for the right words that would open up to her the love of this particular father.

The love of Cerralys.

"Being around him, day in and day out, changes people. He changes them . . . with his convictions and kindness, his strength and wisdom. His love. He slowly molds them—simply by being the kind of person that he is—into better people. That is why those who serve under him would follow him to the great pit of darkness and back, because they never again want to return to what they were, and within his eyes they see the possibility of becoming something far greater than what they are."

Her eyes were locked onto his own. "You speak of they," she said quietly, "but what about you? What about _you_ , Nachal? Are _you_ a better person for knowing him?"

It was an unabashedly pointed and personal question. _Was_ he a better person? He stared at those eyes for a long time, those blue eyes so like her father's, and he felt peace descend. "From the first moments that I can remember with him, he has encouraged me, guided me, and loved me with a force that is encompassing in its reach, altering in its power, and humbling in its constancy." He paused, swallowed, and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they burned. "I am everything that I am because he believed that I could be. If you're asking me if I think that because of his influence in my life I am a better man, the answer is yes."

She looked away from him quickly. Her voice grew husky. "All those years spent mourning the loss of my father, mourning his absence in my life, and he was right there all along. All of those years. . ." She shook her head. "I don't want to cause him pain, Nachal. Perhaps I shouldn't go to see him. Perhaps I should just let it be."

"Don't, Auri," he said harshly. "Don't take that away from him. Whatever pain you might cause at the beginning, will quickly pale in comparison to the joy that you will soon give him."

She stared at the water for a long time in silence.

Nachal spread out a little to shift his legs, letting them flatten against the damp grass. He could feel the wet on his skin now, soaking through his pants. They had been sitting for at least a quarter of an hour, talking. He lay back on his elbows and dropped his head back, staring up into the night sky. The moon illuminated the area around them brilliantly. It was impossible in Eldaria to see the color of things once the sun went down, but here . . . here the world seemed different. The colors were so much richer and more vibrant. The greens were more intense, the blues softer and clearer, the browns richer and deeper.

And the feeling.

Despite the fact that El`dell was slowly dying, it felt as if it was a place out of time. It felt as if you could strip away the sands of yesterday and tomorrow, and have, in its own perfect bubble of time, only the _now_. Because only the _now_ mattered. It was a timeless land. A magical land. And he had never—despite the way he had been raised among dragons—he had _never_ believed in magic.

Until now.

"I remember a time," he murmured drowsily, "when I was small." He thought back. "I was probably only eight or nine at the time." His eyes were closed as he was trying to picture the memory that had flashed through his mind. "I was playing in the forest near my home at The Hall, when I stepped into a clearing." He smiled slightly. "I had stepped into that clearing countless times before, but this time something was different. I stopped quickly and looked around for the cause. Immediately, I spotted someone sitting on a shelf of rock near the forest floor. He was completely and utterly still. And the surroundings, the birds and other animals, even the wind, seemed to mimic his stillness. Everything was quiet."

"I turned to go, very certain that I was intruding, but he called to me. He called me by name. I walked hesitantly forward, trying vainly to be brave as only a boy of eight or nine can." He laughed lightly then continued. "When I got there, I saw that he was an elf." He opened his eyes to find Auri's. She was looking at him intently, following his every word. "I knew—because I had been raised among dragons—that he was a _real_ elf, not a dragon in another form. I stood before him, and he stared at me, scrutinizing me for long minutes. Finally, he looked away from my face, toward The Hall."

"What did he say?" Auri murmured.

"Nothing. I watched as he quietly melded into the trees, as silent as he had come. I've always wondered about him. Odd that I should remember him. Now. Here."

Auri looked away, out over the water spilling down the mountain, out to the forests surrounding El`dell. "I think he was probably a Watcher."

"A Watcher?"

She turned. The rims of her eyes were red, from fatigue, from tears, he didn't know. Seeing her in pain made him feel completely helpless and small inside.

"Liran is a Watcher. Five of them were graced by the queen and sent from these shores. They have remained in Terradin ever since, looking for a way to save us all. Searching."

"That's how he found you," Nachal suddenly realized. "Liran."

She nodded then slowly turned to face him.

"I love him, Nachal."

His heart burned. His stomach clenched.

"I'm not asking you to stop," he said hoarsely.

"And you want to remain in my life . . . knowing that this is how I feel?"

He swallowed. "Yes," he said softly.

She nodded and turned toward the water again. She was silent a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper. "Then, as a friend, will you please take me to Eldaria to see my father?"

Fear. Exultation. Hope. They all rushed through him, potent and heady. He closed his eyes against the feeling, trying to contain it. Trying not to let her see. "Yes, Auri, as a friend, I will take you to see the king."

## 19

# Sickness

He had watched her for days. She moved gracefully through the rooms of the pavilions, ministering to the sick, bringing water to dry, cracked lips, placing her soft hands against their cheeks, giving them hope. But with each moment that passed, each elf that was moved to the courtyard above waiting for burial, she bled inside.

He studied her more closely. Deep circles rimmed her eyes from lack of sleep. Her cheekbones were sharper against the frame of her face. She had dropped weight. Her eyes were bright when bending over one of the dying, but in the quiet moments when she thought no one was watching . . . they were scared and full of the suffering that she refused to let anyone see.

It was ironic, his graced eyesight. Every day of his life he had used his eyes without thinking, without pausing to consider, but now. . . He shook his head, keeping his eyes trained on Auri's back.

Liran was gone. Auri had taken a little time to search for him, but without any success. He had simply disappeared. Finally, she had given up, and ever since she had been here, in the pavilions, giving hope to the dying.

They cried for her in their sleep, mumbling incoherently until the touch of her hand met their skin. And then instantly they quieted. He wasn't sure what it was that she was doing, other than offering them comfort. Surely there was no cure involved in her touch because the dying still died. But there was a peace in their death that had been absent before. It left him feeling in awe of her. Something he had been feeling a lot lately.

He silently moved a little closer to her, and stood as still and as quiet as possible, blending into the shadows of the deepening evening. The elf on the pallet was mumbling in his sleep, jerking and twisting within the sheets. Her hand came down onto his arm, and the figure stilled.

Nachal held his breath, quietly moving a few paces closer to hear her whisper indistinctly to the silver-haired elf. Her hand reached up and stroked his damp forehead. His fine, limp hair brushed against the back of her hand as her palm passed over it. She made more soothing noises, and the figure dropped deeply into sleep. His breathing became more even. His limbs stilled. His eyelids un-clenched. He was peaceful once again.

Nachal crouched next to her as she watched the sleeping face and whispered, "You should get some sleep too."

She turned to him automatically, her eyes far away at first. It was a few seconds before they focused on him. "I can't," she said wearily. "There are so _many_ of them." He studied her for a few moments before reaching down to help her stand. She leaned against the pavilion's post with a sigh and closed her eyes.

He snagged a cup of Iridis juice from the nearest table and handed it to her. "If you won't take the time to eat then at least drink something," he ordered.

She sighed gratefully, and put her lips to the cup, sipping the white nectar slowly.

"Your stomach must think that your jaw is broken," he joked in a tired drawl.

She smiled a little, letting her head rest against the post again and her eyes close. "Well, maybe this will send it a message."

His lips quirked. "Yes. That you're allowed liquids."

She sighed. "I'll eat in the morning."

"Just so that you know," he said offhandedly, "you've been in here for _three_ mornings."

Her head jerked up; her eyes opened in shock. "No!" she exclaimed quietly. "That's impossible."

"I'm afraid so."

She reached out a shaky hand and set the cup on the table. "I've been in here for three days?" The question made her sound very lost, as though she had lost more than time.

He put the other cup he was holding into her shaking hand, and, wrapping her fingers around it, watched until she brought it to her lips and sipped. "I've been keeping count," he said quietly.

She heard. Of course. She frowned as she sipped at the nectar and studied his eyes. He felt like closing them, afraid that she would see too much and grow uncomfortable around him again. It had taken him this long, of constant exposure to his pathetic charms, for her to even grow remotely comfortable and at ease around him. He sighed, giving in to the fear and closing his eyes. He really was pathetic.

"You've been here the whole time?" she asked in surprise. He opened his eyes, feeling caught. Would a friend do that? Maybe. But a friend would definitely not watch her every single move. Every touch. Every brave smile. Every sigh or tired rubbing of her eyes. No, and a friend wouldn't be helplessly in love with her either.

"I've been helping out a little here and there."

She frowned again, taking another sip. Her hands seemed steadier now. "Have you slept at all?"

"Have _you_?"

She blinked. "Obviously not."

"Well then, I guess I haven't either," he said gruffly, looking away from her probing gaze.

She called his name softly; his head turned without his permission. He grunted low in frustration at that. Didn't he have _any_ control anymore?

"Go get some sleep."

He knew that she would just keep going whether he was asleep or not. "I'm fine," he said, moving away to help move someone onto a cot. He did it because it needed to be done, but deep down he knew that there was another reason. He was retreating from the puzzled speculation burning in her tired eyes. Retreating from revealing too much. Again. He sighed as he adjusted the blanket over the pale, shivering elf.

Less than a quarter of an hour later, she cornered him. Literally. She pointed to a cot whose occupant had just died, and was now empty. "Lay down," she commanded harshly, "and sleep. If you don't, I'll break that pitcher of water on the table over your head, and you'll sleep anyway." She smiled a slight, surprisingly menacing smile. "Your choice. Headache or no headache."

He eyed the pitcher. It might hurt, but he doubted that it would knock him unconscious. "What about you?" he asked, turning back to her.

"I'll sleep too."

There was something, maybe in the tone of her voice, that had him frowning at her. She shifted once, slightly, and then held herself impossibly still. His frown turned to a suspicious glare. "You're lying."

She sighed, beyond weary. "Of course I'm not."

He was trying to stay focused on what she was saying, but it was proving difficult. The thread of the conversation kept getting lost within the weariness of his mind, and the absolute exhaustion of his body. He ran what seemed like a permanently cramped hand through his dirty, black hair, making it stick out at odd angles, and then he tried to rub some focus back into his gritty eyes. It came back to him as he stood there, staring at her stupidly, wondering what they were talking about. He sighed. "Yes, I'm sure that you will eventually sleep. I'm more concerned with when."

"Later."

"I'll sleep later too then."

She glared, and he struggled to keep a smile from showing on his lips. He looked straight into her eyes and waited. The silence lengthened. Minutes passed. Finally, she sighed and sat down with a weary slump onto the cot. "Just for a few hours," she murmured, lying down and turning away from him onto her other side.

He finally let the smile show as he lay down on the floor next to her. A few minutes later, a cool linen sheet brushed the tops of his shoulders and flattened against his legs and feet. He thought he murmured a hoarse thank you before he lost consciousness, but he wasn't sure.

When he awoke, she was gone.

He jerked up to a sitting position, and searched the room quickly. A moment later, he slumped back in relief to the floor, and listened, completely unashamedly, to the conversation going on outside.

"Why did you not tell the Watchers that it was this bad?"

The queen sighed. "I needed all of them to remain on Terradin."

"Their people are _dying_ , Alera. Some probably have loved ones among those inside. Would you have them come home to _nothing_?

She was angry. Nachal could tell by the sound of her voice that she was struggling to keep it level. He was pretty sure that the queen could hear it too because her voice grew abruptly terse.

"If they didn't remain, it wouldn't matter because _nothing_ is all that would be left _everywhere_."

Auri was quiet, and then she murmured, "You're right," with a sigh. "I know you are. I just hate feeling so helpless. What can I do among so many? I have no gift of healing. All I have are empty words and even emptier actions."

"Words of love are never empty," Alera said quietly. "And your actions give them hope, Aurelias. Surely you are not so blinded by living among the humans that you cannot recognize hope when you see it?"

Outside, Nachal could hear the wind pick up, faintly sighing through the trees. He could hear water moving swiftly—a nearby river—and the distant sound of birds twittering to each other, but both Auri and the queen were completely silent.

He rose from the floor and cautiously stepped outside. They both turned to look at him. "Sorry I overslept," he said huskily, trying to tame his hair with his fingers.

They both continued to stare at him, Auri with an almost warm look in her deep blue eyes, and the queen. . . He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Take her to Cerralys now," Alera commanded quietly. "She is needed there."

Auri turned in surprise. "You need me here. One person won't be enough among so many."

"What I _need_ is for you to end this," Alera snapped then she closed her eyes and sighed wearily. "Please, just trust me, Aurelias."

Auri stared at her aunt's haggard, closed face for a few moments before turning to Nachal. "Are you ready to leave?"

He nodded quietly then held his breath when she moved forward and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you for everything," she whispered.

He watched her walk away, standing there like an idiot, holding his fingertips to his cheek. Pathetic.

"You have no idea what she is," the queen whispered. He switched his focus to the queen warily. His hand dropped back down to his side. The queen's eyes were on a point far beyond him. On something distant that he was sure—even if given a hundred years—he would never be able to see.

"You cannot see what you don't understand," she said softly, as though she were reflexively answering his idle thoughts. And then her eyes swung to his, suddenly illuminating the pre-dawn sky like glacier, blue flames. They felt as if they were freezing him in place to the path beneath his feet. Locked, purely by the force of her will and the wildness burning from her eye sockets. She looked like a feral cat that was about to strike.

Her mouth was closed, but the voice inside of his mind grew louder, morphing and filling the cavity of his skull with deafening, pervasive sound. He wanted to cringe, to turn away, to run. He wanted to fall unconscious and never hear it again. But he was powerless. His heart beat like a rabbit's, caged within his frozen chest and skin.

_And_ _you cannot understand because you cannot see._

His mind spun, whirling and twisting as the last echoes of her voice died away inside, and then all that was left was calm. Was it instinct? Something deeper than instinct? Whatever it was he _knew_ that she was right.

That knowledge hurt.

All he wanted was to love Auri. To protect her. To give her every last part of himself. But maybe it wouldn't be enough. Maybe _he_ wouldn't be enough.

The coldness dissipated from the queen's eyes and they returned to normal. "If I were to ask you," she asked softly, "what is the greatest force that moves within us, what would be your response?"

His mind instantly went to Cerralys. "Love."

Her eyes intensified. Staring into them, he forgot place and time. It felt to him like the world hovered just beyond Alera's eyes. Like he might be able to see, if given enough time . . . everything. Every single thing that ever had or ever would exist.

Everything.

"And the second greatest?"

Nachal shivered. His mind instantly went to the Terradin that existed in his dreams, and the Terradin that he could almost see reflected in her eyes like an afterimage that was slightly hazy and indistinct.

He thought of his relationship with Auri.

He thought of the death that had touched so many and the hollow emptiness that death always left in its wake.

The one side of his thoughts encompassed the living reality of things, the other just a dream. The distance across the two seemed only to be measured in despair.

"Despair," he said in a near whisper.

"Love brings hope and strength," the queen said intently. "It lifts the weary and encourages the weak. But despair is the opposite. It putrefies like a disease, rotting away the flesh of the body. Rotting away the substance of the whole until it is nothing but shadow." She paused for a long moment, searching his face and eyes. "It is not wrong to love her, Nachal. It will give you the power you need to save her. But there will come a time when you will have to make a choice." She reached out and grasped his forearm tightly. Her nails bit into his skin, tearing through the flesh as though it didn't exist. "Choose wisely," she breathed. "Let it come from love, not despair."

Her words sank into him, flooding him, swallowing all of the air inside of his chest and extinguishing it. The longer he stared into her eyes the worse the dizziness became, until, finally, he forced his eyes away from hers and dragged precious air back into his lungs.

"I'll remember," he rasped.

Before she withdrew her hand, he had the sudden sensation that he was falling from a high cliff. He squeezed his eyes closed as the bottom dropped out of his stomach and then leveled again. As quickly as it had come, the sensation went away. Level ground was beneath him again. He opened his eyes tentatively, and stared at his feet. They placidly stood there beneath his legs, just like always.

_What_ was _that_?

"Thank you," Alera said softly, "for what you will do." Then she was gone.

He stood like a statue for what seemed like an endless amount of time, staring blankly at the path that the queen had disappeared down, completely unable to move. He wanted to forget it all. To pretend that she had never spoken.

But she had.

How did you scrub out someone else's words from your mind? He had always been able to do that with the guys, the soldiers, even Cerralys at times. But this was different. The words had come with such power. They were inescapable.

As he continued to stare absently at the path, one of the queen's personal guardians—one of the Vi`dal—strode quickly forward and slapped a letter into his palm.

By the time his brain could function at all, and think of the appropriate words of gratitude, the elf had disappeared. He looked down at the note. His name—without the title, he noted dazedly—was on the outside flap in deep green ink. His hand started to shake . . . was still shaking, he didn't know.

He _did_ know who the note was from. And considering his last conversation with her, he wasn't looking forward to any afterthoughts she might have forgotten to mention in her first assault. He opened it anyway. He liked to think it was a brave action. Something to tell his children about someday.

> **Seek out Valdys in the kingdom of Torar- Araldyn.**

He flipped the note over, looking for more, but there was nothing. No other information.

Seek out the king of Torar-Araldyn? Why? He glared at it in frustration for a minute before he stuffed it in his bag, leaving it for later. Maybe Auri would understand what the queen meant.

Why did everything have to be so obscure? So difficult? Why couldn't it just be simple for once?

He sighed then set out to search for Auri.

Auri walked beside the river, treasuring the time alone. She wanted a few moments to say goodbye to El`ness Nahrral, to El`dell. . .

She also wanted a moment alone to say goodbye to Liran.

Because Liran was gone. And neither she nor any of the Vi`dal she had asked to look for him could find any trace of him. That was something else that she could add to her growing list of information about Liran—if he didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be. Not by anyone.

Wolf suddenly stopped. "Good boy," she murmured softly. She stroked the fur around his ears as she watched her aunt gracefully cross the clearing toward her.

Her aunt turned to look at her once then slowly started walking forward in the same direction Auri had been traveling. Her eyes were troubled. They held a strange combination of fear and determination.

Fear for what? Her? Auri shook her head in bemusement.

"Whatever it is, just say it," she said resignedly.

Alera's intense eyes flickered toward her and then away. Her mouth pursed in deep thought. "I wanted to help you to understand why I chose to pull our people back to El`ness Nahrral."

"It doesn't matter the reasons. The results are the same."

Alera's face went ashen. "The reasons matter to _me_! You think that I am a monster, but if I have been a monster, it has been for the right reasons. You don't understand because you are not one of us. You don't understand what place El`dell holds within Terradin."

Auri clutched the downy fur at Wolf's nape. "Because I'm not one of you?" she questioned quietly.

Her aunt looked stricken. She closed her eyes. "I didn't mean that," she said in a low voice.

"Yes. You did."

Alera opened her eyes. Sound became subdued, almost distant as if from a long tunnel. They stared at each other.

"I'm sorry, Aurelias."

Auri nodded. What else could she say?

"Explain what you said, please. Place? I thought we were separate?"

Alera shook her head. "No. Just the opposite in fact." She began walking again. "Think of it like a human body with systems that are interdependent on each other. What would happen to that body if its heart became diseased?"

The answer was obvious. "The body would die."

Alera nodded. "If the heart was diseased, it would fail to function properly. Only in this case it is sending diseased blood circulating throughout the body first, before it shuts down."

Auri gazed at her, making those instant connections that she always seemed to be able to make at almost blinding speed. "You were trying to protect the heart," she said in a daze, her eyes wide. "You're saying that El`dell is the heart, and that when you called all of our people home, you were trying to protect it."

"Yes."

"But it wasn't enough. Protecting the heart isn't enough when the whole body is already diseased. No matter how strong it is, the heart won't be enough on its own."

Alera looked away from her.

"You are wiser than I, for that is what I failed to see." Her voice had gone soft, but with a vicious undercurrent. At her next words, Auri knew the viciousness was directed at herself. The pain of a flayed conscience.

"I was so arrogant. I thought that, if we protected ourselves, we could, in time, lend Terradin our strength and find a way to combat the decay. But we couldn't—I couldn't—and trying to stop it only made it worse."

"How?"

Alera gave a sharp shake of her head, refusing to answer. Her wild eyes came back to Auri's face. "I thought that I was doing the right thing," she said hoarsely. "I was faced with an impossible decision—a decision that no being should ever have to be faced with—and I did what I thought would give us all the greatest chance of survival."

"I understand why you made the choice that you made," Auri said quietly, "but it was still the wrong choice. You tried to preserve what you felt was the most vital thing, but they are _all_ vital." She let the anger go when something else suddenly made sense. "It's killing you isn't it?" she said with certainty. "That's why everything is dying here. It's killing you."

Alera jerked her eyes away from Auri's probing ones, and was silent for a long time.

"Yes. We are dying."

"Why? The others are not sickened by the decay! The humans. The dwarves. No other race that I know of is dying like this!"

"We are the caretakers of the land," Alera whispered hoarsely. "There is a connection, an unbreakable connection, with that which we care for. As the land dies, so too do we."

Auri swallowed; tears burned her tired eyes. "There is no hope for them then."

Her aunt swung toward her. " _You_ are their hope, Aurelias."

Quiet had pierced the thicket again. Auri held the queen's gaze with her burning eyes.

Numbness descended.

How was she going to change any of this? Things had been set in motion before she was even born. She—as her aunt had pointed out—was not even fully elven-kind.

"Your mother was first-born," the queen said quietly, in answer to Auri's slightly panicked train of thought. "And she felt the same way. The difference between us two is that, though she did not feel she would succeed, she determined to sacrifice everything to try while I, so arrogantly certain of my success, determined to sacrifice nothing and still win." Her eyes gentled, but still held a poignant intensity. "Nothing good can ever be won without great sacrifice, Aurelias. And the most important things demand the highest sacrifices. Jenna understood that far better than I. And I have the feeling that you do as well. You are very much like her."

She brought her hand to Auri's cheek and held it there tenderly for a moment. "Whatever you may believe about me, know that I would have given my last breath for your mother, and that I _will_ give my last breath for you. I will try to make it right again. Be well, Aurelias." She dropped her hand and walked away, disappearing quickly into the shadows of the forest. Auri watched the spot where she had vanished then sat down next to Wolf. He nuzzled her hand with his muzzle.

"I don't think she misspoke, Wolf, do you?" He looked at her with his crystal-clear blue eyes, and she read his answer within them.

No. He didn't think so either.

The thought left her cold.

She was still sitting there, less than a quarter of an hour later, when her aunt's thoughts touched her own. It felt unnerving to have another being push their thoughts into her mind. She had always thought of her mind as inviolate. Her own sanctuary. To have it invaded left her feeling exposed. An exposure of self that she didn't feel ready for.

_Aurelias. Your friend Nachal, does he not look like someone else you know? He is descended from royalty._

Auri spoke aloud to nothingness, feeling slightly foolish. "He is? Who are his parents?"

Silence. Frustrating silence was her only reply.

She closed her eyes, searching through every royal line that she could think of—she had long since had them all memorized—but couldn't find a single connection. A single link. Unless. . . She gasped. Wolf's head shot up in alarm, and she stared at him in stunned shock.

"Valdys," she whispered hoarsely. "Nachal's father is Valdys."

She was trying to figure it out. To make sense of it all. There were some elements that _did_ made sense. Valdys had a brother, who, roughly a score of years ago, tried to overthrow him and usurp the throne. Failing that, he had stolen Valdys's wife Arista, and presumably murdered her. There had been no request for ransom, no information whatsoever. Every possible lead had led to another dead end. Until there were finally no leads left, and Krellys had disappeared and gone into hiding, was _still_ in hiding.

"She must have had the baby, Wolf. And somehow, Cerralys rescued him. But how? And why didn't he return the child the moment he knew who he was? What possible reason could he have had for keeping him?

He must have known. The story of the kidnapping must have been on everyone's lips. Why would he keep him then?"

Her eyes locked with Wolf's. "Unless. . ." Understanding slowly dawned. "Unless he was worried for Nachal's safety. If he thought the child would be in danger if he returned him, he might keep him close to him until he was sure that the danger had passed."

Wolf's gaze remained steady. "But the danger never passed. Krellys is still in hiding. That makes him a viable threat to Torar-Araldyn. To Valdys and to Valdys's son."

It made sense. From what Nachal had said of him, Cerralys seemed the kind of person to do such a thing. And whether it was right or wrong to keep the prince from Valdys all of these years, it had more than likely been done to protect him from the threat of his uncle, and not for anything untoward.

Nachal said that Cerralys—through the power of the Dragon Dreams—could see things that others couldn't. Maybe he saw through one of those dreams that if he returned Nachal, the boy would die and any attempt to communicate what had happened would create the very situation that he was trying to avoid.

She didn't know how she knew she was right. She just did. She was right. Perhaps there was some connection between herself and her father, some parent-child link. It was a nice thought anyway.

She stood quickly as the sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves intruded on her thoughts.

Nachal.

Nachal with a puzzled scowl on his face.

He held out a note to her without any preemptory introduction. She took it, quickly reading the single line of green, elegant ink.

"Nice handwriting," she commented inanely.

"What does it mean?" He asked in a frustrated growl. "Do you know?"

Auri nodded hesitantly, unsure how to say it. "I think it means. . ." She trailed off, sighing, and looked away. Better to just say it. He needed to know. Her eyes found his again resolutely. "I would guess that she wants you to get to know your father."

His grey eyes widened.

Several days later, they were nearly to the shore that the Tide Skimmer was moored off of. Auri watched Nachal out of the corner of her eye. He had been quiet since she had told him about Valdys. Quiet and contemplative. She was too.

It was strange for her to think that they had been raised by each other's fathers. She by Valdys and he by Cerralys. It was almost as if it had all been orchestrated carefully by some merciful hand that ruled the heavens. Regardless of what it was, design or strange accident, it was something that gave her pause.

After another few hours, they reached the shore . . . and Liran.

She stopped abruptly, stunned to see him there.

The others, Nachal, Dhurmic, and a few of the Vi`dal, headed for the skiff that was pulled onto the beach.

Liran walked toward her.

She stood there numb, counting up the changes since she had seen him last. His eyes still burned, she didn't think that would ever change, but they also—she hadn't thought this possible—obscured his feelings more. He had withdrawn wholly behind his own personal barricade, barring her from seeing whatever it was that he didn't want her to see.

He reached her and stopped, waiting for her to speak.

"I'm going to see my father," she said quietly.

"I'd like to come with you."

"Why?"

His eyes burned into hers without voice.

"Why?" she asked again. "I need to know why."

He let the barricade fall, only for an instant, but it was all that she needed.

"I'll see you on the ship," she said softly then she turned and walked away.

## 20

# Friendship

From her vantage point, high above the deck in the crow's nest, she watched the misted elven isle disappear. She was surprised at how difficult it was for her to leave. The time she had spent there had been so brief. But . . . in a way, that was part of the difficulty.

She wanted more time.

She sat on the wooden lip with her feet dangling over the edge. Thick rope netting, attached to the main mast, ran beneath the soles of her feet, all the way to the deck far below. A safety measure to prevent sailors plummeting to their deaths, and an easy way to get up in the rigging and do whatever work needed to be done.

Her gaze fell on Liran at the aft of the ship. He was facing away from her, watching the ship's gentle wake. They hadn't spoken since they had boarded several hours before. Nachal and the dwarf were asleep in their quarters. And Wolf. . . She looked over the rim and down to the planks seventy feet below. Wolf was down there on the main deck of the ship. Still. He hadn't moved since she had climbed up to the crow's nest. His body language seemed relaxed, almost languid, but his blue eyes tracked her every movement intently.

"That's what he does. His job is to protect you."

She gasped, startled so much that she fell forward, losing her balance on her precarious perch. Liran grabbed her before she fell onto the net.

"Careful," he said with an audible smile in his voice.

She clutched his hand, regaining her balance, and twisted her body inward toward him, rather than outward toward the net. She studied him for a while. Whatever smile she could hear in his voice didn't make it to his face. He looked . . . slightly ragged. Unkempt. His clothes looked like they hadn't been changed in weeks. His hair was mussed. And his face looked haggard. He looked exhausted.

"You should rest."

"Noted," he said dryly.

"How did you get up here so fast?"

"I climbed."

She frowned, looking in disbelief from him to the rope.

"I climbed quickly," he amended.

She laughed. He was hopeless. "What was that you were saying about Wolf? His job is to protect me? Since when?"

"Since you were born. But considering you weren't raised on the isle, since Wolf found you."

"Well, I could have used his protection a few times in Ardalan," Auri said quietly.

"I'm sure you could have," Liran said just as quietly.

She stared at him, her thoughts going around in circles. His eyes softened. Before she knew what he was doing, he hopped over the lip of wood she was sitting on, and jumped onto the netting. He sat on it with his knees drawn up, probably trying to give her some space. The weight of his body flattened the netting in places, and made it bow in others. He seemed comfortable with the height. His eyes never left hers.

"Wolf is older than most. He is a puzzle actually. Training on the elven isle can take years, though some manage it in merely a few months. He is part of a genus of canines called the White Alpine Wolves. This particular breed is coveted for a few reasons. They are very disciplined animals, and very intelligent. They need only be shown once or twice how to do something before they catch on and are able to do it for themselves. They are also extremely loyal and strong. I've seen one of these wolves take on a fully grown bear and come out the winner.

Auri's eyes widened. She had swung back around when Liran moved, and now she leaned carefully over to look down at Wolf.

He was still following her with his liquid blue eyes. They stared at her face, as if he likewise were contemplating her.

"How did he find me?"

Liran shook his head. "I don't know, Auri. They have unparalleled instincts. He must have known your scent somehow and tracked you."

"How did he get to the mainland? Are the White Alpines on the mainland or are they from El`ness Nahrral?"

"Both. We raise them on El`ness Nahrral, but once, long ago, they originated in the northlands of Terradin. In the snow and ice locked mountain ranges far to the north of Eldaria."

"So he could have come from there?"

"If he did it means he hasn't had any training. I don't believe that's true. He behaves like he's had training before."

"Well, he can't have just crossed an ocean," Auri said with a little laugh.

Liran's face grew sober. "I wouldn't dismiss it. It _is_ possible. These wolves are relentless."

Auri sobered too. The thought that Wolf had possibly crossed an ocean for her made her throat try to close up. She nodded at Liran who was watching her carefully—the way a spider might a fly—and broke the disconcerting contact of their eyes by staring down at the sea. It was gentle today, but thankfully there was a steady wind at the aft that pushed them toward Eldaria.

"I'm sorry, Auri," Liran said gently.

"Don't, Liran. Please, just don't."

"I shouldn't have left," he said, ignoring her words. "But I needed some time."

She nodded without answering. She knew that. She also knew why.

"Why?" he asked hoarsely as though afraid of her answer, reading her thoughts again.

Well, that made it easier. If he was going to intrude, steal her thoughts, she might as well make use of it. There were some things that were easier to think than say.

_You were used to being alone, and I wanted something from you that you couldn't give. You didn't want to hurt me. You needed distance._

"That's _absurd_ ," he growled darkly. "How is it that I run and hide like a coward and you blame _yourself_?"

She turned to see the ever-present light in his eyes suddenly burn brighter. He deftly got to his feet and climbed the short distance to her dangling legs. His arms came down on either side of her. His expression was completely intent. "It won't happen again," he said softly, his eyes once again calm. "I'm so sorry."

She searched his face. His glowing eyes. She searched the shadows—the always present shadows—and the depths. The silence lengthened between them. She held herself very still, searching . . . waiting . . . searching some more. He waited. She didn't think he took a breath in any of the long minutes that she spent looking into his soul. Finally, she nodded. A heavy, dark weight lifted from her heart.

"Friends?" he asked softly.

"Friends," she replied. And before his famous half-smile took her heart again to places that she didn't want it to go, she pushed him.

Wolf howled.

It sounded suspiciously like canine laughter.

"Are you coming or not?"

Wolf whined and she could swear he was scowling at her. She almost laughed at his expression. It was so human sometimes.

Drashmere touched his wet snout to her cheek. _Perhaps it is best that he stays this time. I have a surprise for thee that I am sure he will not appreciate._ He said it with laughter in his voice.

Auri turned to him with a smile. " _Will_ he stay? He hasn't seemed to want me out of his sight since he first found me."

_A wise precaution_ , Drashmere said, suddenly sober.

Auri sighed. "Wolf," she called up to the bristling white animal. "Drashmere says that it would be best for you to stay this time."

Wolf growled menacingly.

"I don't think he likes the idea," Auri said with bemused affection.

_I'll speak to him_ , Drashmere promised.

She watched as Drashmere communicated with Wolf silently. Eventually, Wolf stopped bristling, laid down on the planking, put his face onto his paws, and watched them with too-attentive eyes.

Drashmere's sigh echoed into her mind. _He has condescended to trust me._ He was silent for a moment, and then, _Oh, interesting!_

"What?" Auri asked, craning her head around to see what he was looking at.

Nachal. Standing at the prow of the ship.

_Nachal would like to know if he can join us._

She almost spluttered. "He wants to what?"

_Join. Us._ Drashmere said the words slowly, as if she were having a hard time understanding his language. She glared at him, and a huge draconic smile spread across his face. How did he know that she was glaring at him?

_Shall I tell him nay?_

"No." She turned her head back around with a sigh. "Let him come." Laughter bubbled up from the large cavity of Drashmere's chest, making her whole body vibrate as she sat on top of him. She smiled and shook her head. Making the Sea Dragon laugh felt right. Even if it _was_ at her expense.

She jumped at the sudden splash of Nachal diving effortlessly into the water. She twisted around to watch as he swam toward them, his strokes sure and steady. When he reached them, he held up a thick rope that he had been towing with his teeth. "What is that for?" she asked in surprise.

"To help you keep your seat."

She frowned. She didn't think she would need a rope.

Drashmere echoed her thoughts. _She will not need it. She has my neck to hold on to. But I believe that thou wilt need it. Swim beneath my belly and wrap it around._

"Shouldn't it go around your chest?" Nachal asked in confusion.

Drashmere smiled. _Trust me, young one._

Nachal dove, muttering something underneath his breath. "What was he muttering?" Auri whispered.

_He complains that 'young one' is all that he is ever called,_ Drashmere explained with laughter in his voice again. _He says that he is starting to think it is his given name._

Auri laughed. A moment later, Nachal materialized on Drashmere's left flank. He had looped the rope underneath and was in the process of climbing up. It looked as though it was something in which he had a good deal of practice. When he climbed onto Drashmere's back, and settled in behind her, she turned to him with a smile. "And what else did you expect to be called when you live among dragons? You _are_ young."

Nachal frowned at her. "So are you."

Drashmere interrupted with a laugh _. Hast thou not learned by now, Prince Nachal? Dragons are_ never _young. Hold on tight,_ he cautioned them _._ And with that, he was off, racing through the water as though it were only sky, and making her catch her breath. They were going so fast it felt like they were flying!

After a few minutes of breath-catching speed, Drashmere asked them, _How long canst thee and Nachal hold thy breath?_

"I don't know," Auri shouted over the sound of the wind. "I've never tested it." Nachal tightened his arm around her waist but remained silent.

_Well thou art about to. Breathe,_ now!

She dragged in a deep, aching breath, and felt Nachal do the same behind her, and then . . . they were underwater, and in a completely different world. At first, all she could do was clutch Drashmere's neck like a lifeline and look at everything around her with her eyes nearly popping out of her head. But then, after they resurfaced a few times, and she learned the rhythm of things, she began to relax and just enjoy the experience.

She could feel the water's cold temperature, but it didn't bother her. It fizzed past her as they whirled and swam through it. Drashmere swam fast at first, diving and twisting, spinning, and then he slowed to about one quarter of that speed and swam leisurely, showing them the wonders of the world beneath the surface of the waves.

She kept one hand firmly wrapped around Drashmere's neck, and with the other she reached out to wonderingly touch the smooth skin of a porpoise. Nearly a dozen of them swam on either side of her, easily keeping pace with them. Fish darted around them, sometimes obscuring her vision with their sheer numbers. She could see great valleys and tall mountains, beds of rock and plankton, jungles of sea plants waving in the water's currents. Everywhere around her was life. Life that she would never have imagined possible. If she hadn't already been holding her breath, it would have been taken away.

Nachal's arm suddenly tightened again around her middle in alarm. She twisted around to see where he was looking. Her eyes bulged. A shark was keeping pace with them, about twenty meters away. Its skin was light grey, and it had an elongated head and jaw line with massive amounts of sharp, pointy teeth.

Drashmere soothed them with silent laughter in his voice. _Dost thou believe that dragons have predators in the deep? He will not bother us. Sharks too are curious sometimes. He has just come to watch._

They resurfaced shortly after that for the last time. Auri lay flat against Drashmere's back, with her cheek pressed against his neck, and took deep, gasping breaths. "I had no—" gasp "—idea—" gasp "—that the ocean could be like that! That was _amazing_!"

Nachal was gasping for air behind her too. She could hear him coughing, struggling to bring air into his lungs quickly. They must have held their breath for a couple of minutes that last time. When finally he could breathe again, he started to laugh. "Good thing the queen changed me," he said still laughing. "Or I would have missed out."

Auri's lips quirked as she turned to see him, laughing, shaking the water out of his dark hair with his hands, and sluicing it off of his face. She had a sudden thought and started to laugh. Drashmere, reading her mind, started to laugh too.

"You want to clue me in?" Nachal said with a wry smile, looking at them warmly.

Auri choked it out between laughs. "Wolf," she laughed. "He would have hated it!"

Nachal looked surprised for a moment and then he shook his head and started chuckling along with them.

## 21

# Lifeline

After that, a pack of wild wolves couldn't have kept her Auri of the water. Sometimes Drashmere went with her, sometimes one of the crew, sometimes Liran or Nachal, and sometimes even Wolf. He hated the water, and only seemed to tolerate it because of her. It was strange. She had always thought that wolves loved the water. Not Wolf apparently. Maybe Liran was right; maybe he _was_ an anomaly. She hoped so. The thought made her smile.

"This is really very selfish of you," Liran said offhandedly, wiping a dripping hand over his face.

She looked at him in surprise. "What is?"

He reached over and plucked the conch shell out of her hand then added it to the pull-net that the crew had rigged for her underwater treasures. When he was finished closing the net so that the contents were secure, he pulled down on the second taut rope and lifted it up to the deck. Someone above emptied the net and then lowered it down to them again. He finally turned and looked at her with one brow raised. "Making the crew take a midday meal break nearly every day. Very selfish."

She laughed. "Selfish? One of them had tears of gratitude in his eyes. I think he takes a nap every afternoon now."

He smirked. "They were tears of frustration."

She sobered. "To tell you the truth, I decided this morning that this has to be my last dive. I _have_ been selfish. I'm risking the ship and everyone on board every time we stop."

"We're targets anyway," Liran said quietly. "Whether or not we're actually moving makes little difference."

She scowled at him. "I knew there was a reason I asked you to come with me today. I needed cheering up."

His eyes sparked for a moment, glowing golden, before he dove back underwater.

Liran was _fast_ in the water, much faster than she was. Before she even had her head submerged, he had disappeared. She discovered that she could hold her breath for several minutes, about five, before she had to resurface for air. The more she practiced the better her time got. But whenever she went diving with Liran she was forced to realize that her five minutes or so weren't very good. He could hold it for much longer. In fact, they had _never_ resurfaced for him, always for her.

He caught up with her again when it was time for her to resurface. When her face broke the surface she scowled at him.

"What?"

Her scowl deepened.

He looked confused as he searched her thoughts. She knew the instant he understood because his lips twitched in a smile he probably felt it prudent not to show just then. "It's not true, you know."

She glared.

"It's not!" he said in protest with a half-laugh.

"Oh," she said archly. "Tell me one thing that you're absolutely _terrible_ at."

His bleak look brought her up short then she tried to mentally scramble for something to say that would erase it. She hated that look on his face. "Many things," he said quietly. Then a sudden light turned his eyes almost completely gold. "Besides, hasn't it occurred to you? You're a _dragon_! You can _fly_ and breathe _fire_! Two things I _know_ I'm incapable of doing."

Her frown softened as she looked at him. The excitement in his eyes on her behalf was genuine. He seemed to have no problems with her mixed heritage.

A lump suddenly formed in her throat, and she blinked back the stinging sensation in her eyes. "I thought. . ." She looked away, trying to compose herself, taking a deep breath before she faced him again. It was unnecessary. Liran, impatient again, had already stolen it from her thoughts. He growled something in the elven tongue that didn't sound very pleasant, and she turned in surprise to look at him. "What did you just say?"

He ignored that. "How could you believe for even a single moment that _that_ was the reason? Do I _seem_ like that kind of person to you?"

She had never seen Liran livid. Well, he was now. His eyes flashed, and his mouth and the muscles of his face were so tight they looked as though they were carved from stone. When she didn't respond, absolutely _couldn't_ respond, he slumped suddenly against the hull of the ship and closed his eyes tightly. "It wasn't a question about me, was it?" he whispered in sudden understanding. "It was about you."

She grabbed the pull-net so that she wouldn't have to kick to stay afloat, and watched Liran as he struggled to contain something. His muscles tightened, betraying him. Without opening his eyes, he brought his hand up to the net too, though he didn't seem to need its stabilizing power. Muscles worked along his throat. Silence pulsed between them. She purposely kept her thoughts on her observances of him and not herself, shutting him out.

"The more I think I know you," he whispered, "the more I realize that I don't." He opened his eyes. It was painful to see that expression in them. Auri silently wished that he had kept them closed. "Will you do something for me?"

"What?" she asked in a strangled voice.

"Think of your childhood, remember it, make it vivid in your thoughts, and let me see."

She looked at him helplessly, wanting more than anything to refuse. But that look in his eyes, she had seen it before. At Ardalan. He was begging for her trust. Liran—strong, confident Liran—was _begging_ for her memories. It was more than she could take. She closed her eyes . . . and let him in.

> _Images flashed. Her mother cradling her close. Her mother's body laid out for burial, cold and pale. Valdys, taking her hand and leading her from the room, explaining that he would care for her now._
> 
> _She grew up, and years went by in only seconds. She was building the lake in her garden, polished blue stone by polished blue stone. She was walking through the deepest, darkest passageways of the castle. She was at a long table-full of people, sitting rigidly in her chair, looking at the dirt underneath her fingernails and trying to pretend that she couldn't hear the whispers around her. She could feel Valdys looking at her in impotent frustration._
> 
> _She was older again, standing at the very edge of a crowded ballroom. Valdys came to stand next to her. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wainscoting. "Anything new?" she asked in her little girl voice. A voice that sounded so old to her now._
> 
> _He smiled down at her. "Of course. Join me in my study tonight, and we'll discuss it."_
> 
> _She nodded her head; her long hair swished against her arms and back. "I always do."_
> 
> _The king nodded in agreement then his face changed. " Auri?"_
> 
> _"Yes?"_
> 
> _"I'm sorry."_
> 
> _She looked up at him in surprise. "For what?"_
> 
> _But he just smiled down at her, and cupped her cheek before kissing the top of her hair. She watched his back as he walked away, a puzzled frown on her small face._
> 
> _She was older again, nearly ten and seven. She was planting some more citrus trees in the garden. A shadow loomed over her, blocking out the sun. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with a dirty hand and looked up._
> 
> _Roderan looked down at her in blatant disgust. "Are all elves so common?" he asked with a slight sneer._
> 
> _"I wouldn't know. Are all Valkeries so worthless?"_
> 
> _Roderan seized her arm, yanking her up. "You would dare insult my family's honor?" he spat into her face._
> 
> _She jerked her arm free. "Leave. Now."_
> 
> _He glared at her with malice and hatred in his eyes. Then a cold smile touched his lips and he backed away a pace with a half-mocking bow. "I wonder what it must be like to be so thoroughly disgusting to others."_
> 
> _She turned her back on him. Squatting down, she began packing the soil firmly around the roots, biding her time as she waited for him to grow bored and leave. But it seemed to infuriate him even more. He moved in front of her so that it was impossible not to see him. "There are rumors about your continued presence here. The rest of the royals are mystified. Why, they ask, does the king keep it?"_
> 
> _It? She kept her head down, holding the dirt between her clenched fists, trying to shut out his words._
> 
> _"But I know now what it is. You aren't just his pet are you?" He jerked her chin up with a long, pale finger. There was triumph in his eyes. "He's either your father or your lover. Which is it?"_
> 
> _It was the first time that she could remember wanting to hurt someone. Wanting them to feel pain equal to her own. She pulled her dagger and, with speed she didn't think she had, held it against his throat. "Leave._ Now _!"_
> 
> _His eyes became ice-cold pinpricks of blue as he leaned toward her and_ into _the knife. It sliced deeper into his neck, but she didn't back down. "You are not invulnerable here," he whispered silkily. "Something that you should perhaps keep in mind." Then he knocked her hand away, and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He held it against the blood trickling down his neck, all the while watching her with his cold, malicious eyes. Then he turned and walked away._
> 
> _When he was finally gone, she collapsed to her knees in the dirt, shaking._

She opened her eyes and was a score and one again. Back in the present. She turned quickly away from Liran as she swam for the ladder on the aft side of the ship, unable to face him or say anything right then. Liran stopped her just as she started to climb. "I wanted to know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" she asked in a low, anguished voice.

Several things flashed through his eyes. He closed them and swallowed carefully. "Would it help you to know that he was in love with you?"

"No."

A small smile touched his lips. "I didn't think it would."

"Why?" she whispered.

He opened his eyes, and they were on fire. Fury and pain, and . . . something else. Something he didn't want her to see. "Because I wanted to know _you_ ," he said harshly.

She clung to the ladder, trembling slightly, feeling exposed and angry. But she had made the choice. All he had done was ask. Ask her to trust him. She twisted in the rungs so that she could see him more fully.

There was quiet for a few minutes. Quiet but for the sound of the mild waves slapping around them and the faint sound of the breeze.

She closed her eyes to let the sounds soothe her, and found herself searching instinctively with her other senses for El`dell. For peace. She could _feel_ it. The pulse of it beneath her feet, and the quiet solitude of its place on the ocean. She could feel the water soak the ground beneath the white trees, and hear the waterfalls on the edge of the green city. There was more that she could feel, was _about_ to feel, but she was snatched away by Liran's touch on her cheek.

"It is possible to lose yourself there," he said softly. "Be careful."

She opened her eyes and nodded slowly. She couldn't help herself. Couldn't help the brief flash of insecurity that flashed through her. She had to ask him. But he stole her thoughts again before she could, and quietly dropped his hand.

"There is a quiet dignity that surrounds you, Auri, and a strength that amazes me. You have a purity of spirit that I've never seen before. I'm _grateful_ to be in your life. Nothing you ever show me will change that."

It was said so simply, so quietly, but she knew without any hint of doubt how much he meant it. She stowed it in a secluded corner of her heart and changed the subject.

"Nachal has invited me to dine with him in his cabin tonight." She smiled. "I'm inviting you."

Liran looked up, past her, almost as though he were seeing into the bowels of the ship. He looked back at her with a look that she found hard to decipher. She wished sometimes that she could see into his thoughts as easily as he seemed to be able to see into hers.

"I think I'll sit this one out," he said quietly.

Auri nodded and turned back to climb the rungs. When they reached the deck, Liran handed her the things that had been emptied from the pull-net, and then they separated and went to their own cabins to clean up.

By the time dusk had fallen, they still hadn't crossed paths again.

She knocked on Nachal's cabin, Wolf by her side.

Nachal opened the door and smiled warmly. Then he looked down at Wolf and the smile instantly disappeared. He looked back up at her. "Doesn't he need a nap or something?" he asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wolf growled. Nachal chuckled as he held the door open wide enough for them to enter. "I'll take that as a no. Welcome to my cabin. Please don't chew on the furniture."

Auri smiled. "Me or Wolf?"

Nachal grinned. "You, of course." Then he laughed and shut the door.

## 22

# Ominous

The ship rocked as it crested a high wave, dumping her from her bed. She hit the wooden floor with a dull thud at the same time that a fist pounded heavily against her door. "Auri?"

She regained her feet, staggering only slightly, and made her way carefully to her cabin door. By the time she reached the latch, she had to grab it quickly to avoid being thrown back against the opposite wall. The person on the other side of her door seemed to be having the same problem because they slammed into the still closed door hard enough for it to rattle in its hinges. Growling and muttering followed. Nachal.

She clutched at the latch with nimble fingers, released it, and tried to move out of the way quickly. But she wasn't fast enough. Nachal tumbled into her room at the next wave crest, and landed on top of her.

She immediately started pushing against his soaked chest to get him off of her. He rolled, breathing hard, still mumbling something acerbically underneath his breath. Blood was trickling down from his nose, and a vivid bruise was already beginning to show against one side of his face, high on his cheekbone.

"Are you alright?" she shouted over the sound of the howling wind.

He opened an eye that was rapidly swelling shut. "What?" he yelled.

"Are you alright?" she shouted again.

He gave her a dark, disgruntled look. "Do I _look_ alright to you?"

She glanced at his face again. Point taken. She crawled—it was impossible for the moment to stand amidst the wild heaving of the ship—over to the door that slammed again and again against her wall. She shoved it closed, latched it again, and leaned her head heavily against it for a moment before turning around and crawling back toward Nachal.

The sound of the wind was partially muted now that the door was shut, but she could still hear it rampaging through the ship. Shouts sounded distinctly within the din: Liran's voice, the captain, a few members of the crew. She couldn't make out their individual words anymore, just the sound of their voices.

Wolf crawled toward her and put his head in her lap. She ran her fingers through his fur as she looked over at Nachal again. He was watching her intently. What was it with people doing that lately?

"What happened to you?"

He smiled slightly. His lips seemed to be the only thing on his face that wasn't damaged. Yet. "Nice day for a leisurely sail through the Eldrian Sea, huh?"

She frowned at him.

"Sorry." He sighed, closing his eyes. "We've been trying to ride out this storm for what? Three days? I think I should consider sleeping sometime soon."

"What happened to your face?" she clarified.

"Why? Is there something wrong with my face?"

She sighed. Apparently he didn't want to talk about it. She stood slowly, acclimating herself quickly to the rolling and jerking of the ship, and made her way to the chest that was bolted against the floorboards. In it, she searched for a piece of cloth. When she found one, she slammed the lock back into place and made her way slowly back to Nachal. He had opened his eyes and was watching her every move again.

"Amazing," he breathed when she reached him.

She touched the cloth to the blood on his face that was already beginning to dry. "What?"

"You," he said simply.

Her fingers halted briefly in their dabbing then resumed again tentatively. "Why are you here?"

"Sick of me already?" he said with a slight smile.

She didn't respond, refusing to be baited this time, and he sighed again. "Liran asked me to come check on you," he said quietly.

"Is he alright?"

"He's fine. He's been up in the rigging for most of the day. When the storm first hit, it hit suddenly. We didn't have time to secure the sails or prepare. One of the main masts broke, and several other things were damaged, so he's been up there working almost without pause."

"Are any of the crew helping?"

He gave her another disgruntled look. "Of course they are. But Liran is quicker and more agile. Even in the gale-force winds out there."

"You sound like you admire him."

"What's not to admire?" he said with a small smile. "He's capable and doesn't complain. Unlike Dhurmic," he added with a laugh. "Dhurmic's been complaining almost constantly."

She smiled. "How _is_ Dhurmic?"

"Losing his lunch."

She winced in sympathy. The storm had briefly unsettled her stomach for the first hour or so too, but after that it had seemed to right itself and she had been fine since. "Sorry to hear that."

"So is he. So is everyone."

She laughed. The sounds coming from outside were constant and loud, but inside her cabin there was quiet. She finished dabbing away what blood she could from his face and then left it alone. "The rest will take soap to get off," she said softly.

He was watching her again . . . or still.

"What?"

He shook his head as he closed his eyes.

Her heart thumped out a warning, urging her to be cautious. There seemed to be restlessness in Nachal today. Dangerous restlessness. Restlessness that she knew instinctively that she was at the heart of.

Was this why Liran had asked him to check on her? Was this why she hadn't seen much of him during the last few days? She knew that everyone was working almost constantly with little sleep to keep them afloat. Tempers were fraying and flaring all over the ship. But since she had been ordered below deck by a stone-faced Liran, most everyone else had made time to stop by, keeping her updated on everything that was going on topside. Except Nachal. He had been avoiding her.

She punched him.

He grunted as he caught her fist against his stomach on the rebound. "What was that for?" he growled, his eyes opening a tiny slit.

She jerked her hand away to shake out the sting. "For avoiding me. Don't do it again."

His eyes went from playful to intensely guarded in an instant. She glared and punched him again. A small smile quirked his lips and some of the intensity bled out of his eyes. "I think I miss you being uneasy around me," he said with a sardonic twist of his lips. "You were nicer then."

The hand that had caught hers fastened around it and held it tightly against his chest. He opened his good eye wider to watch her reaction. She didn't give him one. She just left it there as her heart continued to thump out a caution to her. Thump. Thump. Conversely, it slowed down instead of racing faster, pulsing thicker through her veins with its soft de-dump.

Finally, she withdrew her hand, and Nachal closed his eyes. She knew he did that when he was hiding something from her. "Is there anything you need?" he asked huskily, almost dutifully.

"No," she whispered.

He nodded.

Wolf got up a little unsteadily and went over to the bed to lay down on it again. When she had been dumped onto the floor earlier, so had he. His nails clicked on the wood as he walked the few paces, and then he sprung up and settled himself in amidst her blankets.

She looked back down at Nachal who seemed to look worse by the minute. "Why don't you take my bed for a few hours? You look like you need it."

His eyes turned tender for the briefest of moments, and then they were back to guarded. "I'm not fighting Wolf for your bed," he said with a slight smile.

She laughed. "Afraid to lose?"

He chuckled and then was silent. Restlessness tightened his eyes. His face. He looked away from her probing gaze and pulled himself to a sitting position. She reached out to help him, but he waved her away. "I'm fine," he said curtly.

"You don't look fine," she said quietly. "And you're moving like you have a few broken ribs."

He sighed as he finally got himself upright. "I'm _fine_ , Auri."

She kept watching him, trying to read him. After the first little while of their acquaintance, things had become easier for her. It had become easier to talk to him, to laugh with him, to be around him without feeling awkward or out of place. Technically, the time that she had known him added up to a little less than a month, but, in reality, Nachal had known her for much longer because of his dreams. And in all of that time, the countless hours that she had spent in his company, he had never rebuffed her. Never made her feel like she was feeling now. Like he didn't want to be around her.

She moved to stand, but he caught her arm and pulled her closer to him. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "It's not you." He sighed. "I'm just having . . . a hard time right now."

"Can I help?"

He laughed once without humor then sighed again and leaned his head back against the wall. "No, Auri," he said softly. Distinctly. "You can't."

She watched the rise and fall of his chest and the hand that he was carefully holding his right side with. Every time he breathed out, his breath hitched a little. Probably from the pain.

"I can wrap your ribs."

He opened his eyes, or rather eye, slowly. "Do you know how?"

She smiled. "Valdys has had a few cracked ribs in the time that I've known him. I had to teach myself how to treat him because he won't let any of the city's healers near him."

Nachal smiled slightly. "Sensible."

"Ridiculous," she said dismissively, getting up carefully and making her way again to the bolted-down chest against the far wall. She grabbed what she needed and made her way carefully back to Nachal. The ship was still reeling as though drunken, but everything in her cabin was locked inside of her chest. There was nothing to scuttle across the floor and crash against the wall.

When the storm had first broken down upon them three days before, most everything, indoors and out, had been secured, though there were a few things up on deck that broke loose with the constant strong winds. Those were the things that were the most dangerous because the crew was busy elsewhere, not looking and therefore unprepared for something to suddenly fly loose and come crashing into them. So far they had been lucky that there were no serious injuries.

Until Nachal. Maybe something had broken loose and smashed into him—like one of the booms.

She knelt down beside him on the rough wooden floor. He was watching her again. His eyes were even more restless, even more guarded. He pulled his shirt over his head with one hand. She avoided his eyes and worked quickly, forcing her actions into single-mindedness. When she finished, she leaned away so that he could replace his shirt. His movements were easier as though the pain had already lessened.

"Thank you," he said softly.

She nodded. "How did one of the booms hit you?"

He sighed. "How did you know it was one of the booms? It could have been Dhurmic."

She shook her head. "Dhurmic is indisposed right now," she reminded him.

He leaned his head back again, closing his eyes in what seemed outright exhaustion. "I wasn't paying attention," he said quietly.

"And after you were hit, Liran asked you to come check on me?"

"Something like that," he mumbled underneath his breath.

She smiled, got up briefly to replace the scissors and the rest of the ripped up sheet, then sat down next to him and leaned her head against the wall next to where his lay. They were only inches apart. "I hope the storm breaks soon," she said quietly.

He kept his head resting against the wall, but turned it so that he could see her. "Have you been afraid?" he asked softly, searching her face.

"For those of you who are out there in it trying to keep us afloat I have been."

"The good news is that we haven't encountered any more ships."

She tensed. Although their route had been mostly clear so far, there had been a few close calls. If Liran hadn't been with them, they would have had to fight off more of Obsidian's ships. They seemed to be _everywhere_ , clogging the waterways with their sleek, black wood and their blood-red sails. But Liran, sensing them early enough every time, worked with the captain in plotting a cleaner, less dangerous course through the waters.

She thought of the ship that they had encountered. The letters. The desperate men willing to do anything to save their families. "Wasn't one enough?" she whispered painfully.

Nachal was watching her again. He moved his head so that there was almost no distance at all between them. "Yes," he said huskily. "One was enough.

Auri?"

"What?"

"I'm going to—ˮ His lips against hers cut off whatever it was he was about to say. She stilled, completely frozen as his lips moved against hers coaxingly. She couldn't move. Her eyes even stayed open. Suddenly, it was over, and he lifted his face a fraction of an inch away from hers.

His eyes grew shuttered at whatever expression was on her face, and he leaned his head back against the wood, watching her carefully.

Several things flashed through her mind. The last was Liran. Liran with his intense, golden-amber eyes and his half-smile.

"Let me in just a little, Auri," Nachal pleaded quietly. "I'm not asking for you to stop loving him, I'm just asking for the _chance_ to love you."

"That wouldn't be fair to you."

"I don't care."

" _I_ care."

He looked at her in frustration. "Did you feel _nothing_?"

She hesitated, her heart thumping out the same caution again. "I felt . . . frozen and unsure."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Maybe I forgot how to do this," he murmured caustically to himself.

She rested her head on the wall again, trying to force her sluggish brain to think clearly. "I doubt it," she said with a slight smile, despite the seriousness of the situation. "In any case, you've probably had more practice than _I_ have."

He tilted his head toward her, and opened his eyes curiously. Their gray depths studied her face, but he didn't say anything. Didn't ask. She was pathetically grateful for that. After a few more minutes, he rose slowly to his feet.

"Well," he said quietly, "I should get back out there. Thank you for binding my ribs."

He waited for her to say something in response. When she didn't, he turned and headed for the door, staggering slightly against the pitch of the ship. When he reached the door, she called out to him. "Nachal?"

He turned, steadying himself against the frame of the door.

"How I feel about Liran . . . it doesn't bother you?"

"Of course it does," he snapped angrily.

"Then why?" She was genuinely trying to understand this time.

"Because I don't care enough. I wake up, Auri, and you're the first thing on my mind. I spend all _day_ trying not to think of you and failing, endangering myself and the rest of the people on this ship because I can't keep my mind on the task in front of me. I go to sleep, still trying not to think about you, only to spend the rest of the night dreaming about you. I can't _stop_ thinking about you. Do I care? Yes. It tears me up inside that you love him and not me. But like I said at the beginning, I'd rather have part of you than nothing."

He turned away and reached angrily for the latch, throwing it open. Her heart pounded, but it wasn't with caution this time. It was with something else. "Nachal?"

He turned.

She hesitated. "Can you . . . try again?"

He froze as solidly as she had only moments before. His eyes went wide as they quickly searched her own from across the room. Then he quietly closed the latch again and made his way slowly toward her. He knelt in front of her, his eyes still searching hers. She couldn't figure out how to say what she wanted to say. It all became tangled inside of her when he looked at her like that, but she tried anyway. "I want to try to let you in," she said softly.

His eyes flickered, darkening to a deeper smoky-gray charcoal color. He slowly lifted the hand that she held, releasing it, and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. The other hand he raised to steady himself against the wall as he leaned in closer to her. "Are you sure?" he asked huskily, his lips inches from hers.

She closed the gap between them without answering him.

## 23

# Deeper

The storm finally passed after another half day. The shrieking wind was the first thing to die down, and then gradually the relentless, driving rain subsided to only a whimper, finally disappearing completely. There was no more damage to the ship, other than what had happened when the storm had first broken out. And most of that had already been fixed. The badly damaged sails were already being worked on as well. Luckily, or rather cleverly, Valdys required enough cloth to be carried at all times on his merchant ships to repair them, should they have a need. They definitely had a need now.

In the interim, Auri had decided to go diving again.

She sat above the water, her feet skimming the tops, dripping on a plank that Nachal, Liran, and Dhurmic had made for Wolf. It was attached to a pulley system above her, and was suspended over the ocean by four thick ropes. It was large, about half the size of a small bed, and gave her the freedom to be closer to the water when Wolf wasn't out here, without actually being in it. If ever Wolf got in the water again with her, this would make it easier to drag him back onto the deck of the Tide Skimmer.

She pulled her feet up and onto the plank and curled herself into a ball, trying to understand the strange feelings surging around inside of her. They were close to Eldaria when the storm hit. Nachal told her that they had wandered a little in the wind but when the sails were fixed it would only take them a few hours to reach The Hall . . . to reach her father's home.

Her bare feet scraped against the wood as she shifted positions. Pulling her knees up tighter to her chest, she rested her head on them and looked outward, trying to see past the horizon to the king's castle on the cliff.

The silence of the day comforted her, calmed her. The sun beat down on her, flush and golden. Her eyes closed.

For the last few days she had been prowling the confines of her cabin, restlessly moving from one empty floorboard to the next. Her thoughts kept drifting to her father, then El`dell, then Liran, then Nachal, in an endless, unbroken loop. Wolf had watched her pace from the comfort of her bed. His sad, too-intelligent eyes followed each step, each circuit around the limited space of her room.

And now. . .

All of the turbulence burned away in the heat of the sun.

She knew what she felt. For each of them. But knowing, understanding, didn't make it any easier.

For El`dell . . . and Terradin she felt despair. A sick sense of dread that things could never be put right again no matter how hard she or anyone else tried.

For Nachal she felt warmth. He was an unusual man with an unusual perspective on the world. He loved her, wanted her, cherished being with her, and she was growing to care for him very much. When he kissed her, when he held her, she felt warmth. Nachal was an oasis in a troubled tide.

For Cerralys she felt anxiety. She wanted to meet him, get to know him, but down deep inside of her, she feared that when he finally _did_ see her clearly he would be disappointed. The thought was sharp, barbed and damaging, and she shied away from it, hoping that it wouldn't be true.

And Liran.

Liran. . .

Liran burned deep inside of her.

Suddenly, something hit the plank next to her. Her eyes snapped open in startled surprise. She turned just in time to get a wet, dripping tongue across her cheek. She laughed, holding her hands out in front of her in self-defense. "Wolf? What are you doing here?"

He whined and put his head in her lap. A voice answered from above.

"He was lonely."

She looked up to find Nachal looking down at her with a grim look in his eyes. "Come to think of it, I am too. Are you going to drag yourself out of the ocean for a few minutes to see to that?"

She laughed and stood, holding on to one of the ropes for stability. Wolf stood with her. "Pull me up."

Nachal grasped a thick rope above him and pulled heavily on it. Slowly, the platform moved upward until it was flush with the deck of the ship. He tied the loose end of the rope to the railing and then reached down to help her onto the deck.

He had a towel thrown over his shoulder, and, as soon as she was standing in front of him, he wrapped it around her, rubbing her back gently. "I'm not very wet anymore," she said lightly, leaning into his embrace. "The sun dried me."

"I don't know how you can stand the freezing water for so long." Then his eyes smiled as if something suddenly made sense to him. "I guess that would be your dragon skin."

She blinked and then shook her head, smiling bemusedly. "I never thought about it. I've just never gotten cold before."

"Dragon skin," he said decidedly. "Even in your elven form." Then he smiled. "Well, for those of us who are . . . sort of mortal, the water around Eldaria is freezing."

The name silenced her for a moment. Nachal continued to rub her back. She closed her eyes as she asked quietly, "Is the ship ready yet?"

His voice got quiet too. "Almost. The sails are mended. We just need to get them up."

She pulled abruptly away, nervous again. "I need to get cleaned up."

He nodded.

She turned and walked away, but before she had gotten half a dozen steps, he called her name.

"Auri?"

She turned.

"It will be alright. He'll love you, you'll see." The grim look was back in his eyes again.

She couldn't speak past the sudden knot in her throat, so she just nodded and turned back around to head for her cabin.

It was time to meet her father.

She waited at the prow, all alone except for Wolf, and watched the vast stretch of green and brown edge closer. And then closer. Her heart was hammering, her mouth was dry, her hands were slightly trembling. . . She thought she was handling it well.

They rounded a bend . . . and suddenly there it was, perched high on a cliff, vast and slightly gleaming in the softening light of dusk. The sight of it stunned her, making her quick heartbeat stutter and then take off again like a streak of lightning. "Beautiful," she whispered. Wolf leaned closer to her, lending her some of his strength, and they both stood there, almost as still as stone as the Tide Skimmer drew closer.

After another few minutes, she saw him. His stance was powerful, almost majestic. His gaze was focused completely on the ship as it drew closer to him. His long, white hair blew in the breeze around his shoulders. She kept her eyes locked on him as the ship came completely around the bend. Her heart beat loud in her ears, drowning out the sound of the wind.

The ship finally slowed then stopped. She heard the anchor drop. With still shaking hands, she lowered herself over the side and into a skiff. Someone lowered her down, she didn't look to see who, and she rowed for the shore. The figure on the cliff started down toward the shore at the same time. Wolf sat on the seat in front of her, blocking her from view.

Too quickly, the boat hit sand, and she got out to drag it onto the beach. Her black hair covered her face as gusts of wind blew it around her. She raised her head, pushing her hair away from her face with her hands. . .

And heard her father gasp.

She stumbled forward on suddenly shaky legs to meet him. He did the same.

His skin had gone as white as bleached parchment, but his eyes—eyes that were exactly like her own—glowed like Liran's did. From within. His lips formed a single word—Jenna—but nothing came out. He reached for her with a hand that trembled greatly, cupped her cheek, stared hungrily into her face, her eyes . . . and then he crumbled.

He held on to her shirt, fisting it in his hands as his knees gave out and hit the sand, and then her father—the mighty king of the dragons—sobbed as if his world had gone. Like a being who had lost _everything_.

They stayed like that for a long time. Her hand was gently rubbing the crown of his head in a soothing motion. Hot tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Cerralys's face was bowed to the earth, and he was holding on to the bottom hem of her shirt with two hands now, both of them fisted and twisted in the material.

Finally, when his sobs had lessened, she knelt in the pale sand in front of him. "Jenna was my mother," she whispered.

His head came up slowly, his eyes still shone luminescent. Like a deep blue pool of light. "I know," he whispered hoarsely back. He touched her face again. "Looking at you, I see her face."

"My eyes are yours."

He nodded. "Your eyes are mine," he agreed quietly.

Evening fell. The pale moon rose over the shore, illuminating the two figures below. One white-haired, one black. Their heads were bent together in animated conversation, and every once in a while, the king would throw his head back and laugh, the girl would smile, and then they would just look at each other, speaking without words.

Stephen watched them for a long time, the king and the girl. Hours passed.

Finally, he turned and left them in peace, a small smile of contentment on his face.

"Cerralys?"

He turned. The light of his eyes had mellowed but a faint luminescence still shone in them. "Yes?"

"How old are you?"

His smile was rueful. "Eight centuries or so. I've lost count."

She choked and immediately started coughing, trying to restore airflow. The king chuckled quietly and rubbed her back until she could breathe properly once again.

"I can see that this surprises you," he said with a small smile.

"Eight _centuries_?" she gasped in between choking coughs. "As in **_eight_** **_hundred_** **_years_**?" Her voice went up several octaves at the end.

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "You have a lot to learn about dragons, my dear."

Auri swallowed, wiping away the tears that were streaming down her face from her coughing fit. "Eight hundred years," she muttered, feeling completely dazed. "Is that young?"

He smiled. "No. It's quite old to tell you the truth. I know of a few that are older, but not many."

Auri nodded, her mind still churning. _Eight_ _hundred_ _years_!

They sat in silence for another length of time—it could have been hours—before the king finally spoke again. His mind seemed lost in the foamy waters of the ocean as he gazed without thought at them.

"It's true that my life has been long," he said quietly. "I've seen the powers of the earth crumble . . . and then seen them reborn anew in the ashes. I've watched loved ones, those closest to me, die and fade away, only to become a memory." His voice became as soft as a whisper. "I've watched night fall upon the lands for many years' time and then watched again as morning always came to chase away the darkness. I've seen much, Auri, but still . . . I was completely unprepared for your mother.

"The war between my brother and me had waged for many years. The final result was catastrophic. Many innocents died. Finally, those rebels that were left chose banishment over death, and were banished to the shores of Glan`ral. But Obsidian. . ." He shook his head wearily.

"I found myself at El`dell. Still to this day, I can't remember the journey there. It's all a haze. Something happened when I first arrived . . . and then . . . I remember nothing more for a long time after that. It was weeks before I was aware, really aware, of where I was. Your mother healed me," he whispered. "Body and soul, she healed me."

He closed his eyes. The hands that were clasped loosely in his lap began to tremble. Tears filled her vision as she stared down at them. She reached out and covered his trembling hands with her own.

"After seven hundred years of being alone . . ." He opened his eyes and turned to face her again; tears trailed quietly down his face. "The pain, the loneliness, the heartache . . . after seven hundred years of night, it all faded away with her love. And I would endure that night again; go through every moment of loss, every pain, and solitude if it meant that I could hold her one more time."

Auri bowed her head and let the tears overcome her. She wept for her mother and the years that she had endured without her. She wept for the lost child she had been, and the lost girl she felt like now. She wept for her father, for his continued pain at the loss of the one that he had loved more than anything, and for the pain that she had suddenly and devastatingly brought into his life. She cried harder than she had ever cried in her life. She cried until she felt dry and empty inside. Until there was nothing left to cry.

Into the sudden silence, Cerralys began to hum a beautiful melody. The notes were rich and deep . . . and familiar.

"Drashmere's hymn," she whispered, wiping her nose with her hand.

She felt Cerralys nod against her head as he reached into a pocket for a handkerchief and handed it to her. "Yes. He sung it for me once, a long time ago. The night I died."

## 24

# Jenna

The time after the war saw a great division amongst the elves and Jenna was at the heart of it. She understood, better than anyone I've met before or since, the greater cost of the war. The deeper, hidden cost of the war. And it caused her pain. _Great_ pain."

His voice grew hoarse; his fingers stilled in Auri's hair, and she felt herself go still along with them. Cerralys continued softly. "I could do nothing but hold her as she cried. I was devastated at the betrayal of my brother, at the loss of so many bright and strong ones, but she _felt_ it. When she breathed, she breathed in the pain of the land. At night, when she slept, she dreamed of it, and sobbed in her sleep, her tears soaking into my chest.

"And then, one day, suddenly, she grew very calm. She called an emergency meeting of the Council of Elders, and they came from the four corners of El`ness Nahrral. The morning of the meeting dawned crystal clear. Everyone was amassed under one of the meeting pavilions. Some of the more powerful Vi`dal were at the back of the room, while the rest stood guard outside. The king and queen were at the front of the room, and all the rest were in between, including your mother. I stood at the very back and watched your mother begin speaking. Her words were like a torch to the already burning embers of the room.

"'The hollowness is spreading,' she told them calmly. 'If we do nothing, it will soon cover us all.'

"She was calm, deliberate. She chose her words with extreme care. And yet, for all of this, it didn't matter. The words flared, hot and bright, filling the whole room, and pandemonium immediately broke out. Elves began talking over one another, shouting. Chairs scraped against the floor, some overturning and toppling as their occupants jumped to their feet. And through it all, I watched her. The Vi`dal next to me watched her. The queen watched her.

"But Jenna's gaze never wavered from the queen's. Not once.

"Jenna openly defied Alera that day. In all the time I had been there, I had never seen her do that. I had been there for less than a half year. Enough time to fall in love with her, go through the elven ceremony binding us together, and leave.

"Those that followed Jenna, _believed_ in her, got on a boat and left the shores of El`ness Nahrral. Most thought that it was temporary. A temporary time away to look for a cure that would reverse the hollowness eating away at the soul of the land, but I think Jenna knew. She _knew_ that she was never going to see the shores of her homeland again . . . and she never did."

"What happened?" Auri whispered. She sat up fully now, giving her father her complete, undivided attention.

Cerralys' voice grew soft. Hoarse. "We were a day away from port when a savage storm rolled in. The clouds rolled across the atmosphere like great, billowing waves, blackening the sky completely." In his eyes was unmasked, buckling pain. He looked at her as if offering it to her. As if begging for her forgiveness. She reached over and covered his hand with hers. Wolf was motionless beside them.

"Within a few minutes, the blackness of the sky seemed deeper than the darkest night. The waves rose up, surging and cresting, heaving over the sides of the ship. It had come on so suddenly that everyone started scrambling for various parts of the ship, but it was too late. The main mast became damaged beyond repair. The sails were instantly ripped to shreds and lay hanging in tatters. Water kept surging all around us, filling the deck, inch by inch. Some were washed overboard, buried in the depths forever. All was chaos.

"Suddenly, Obsidian was there, descending from the black clouds above as if he owned them. He had come for me. I knew that, with the storm, they had a chance to survive, but against Obsidian . . . " His voice had become as hoarse as rubble. "If there had been another choice, I would have taken it, but I saw only one—I had to leave her. I held her, kissed her, transformed, and flew away, knowing that he would follow me." He looked down. Tears tracked their way down, pooling on their joined hands. The wind continued to blow around them, but now the sound of it was mournful. As if nature suffered when Cerralys suffered.

"That was the last time I ever held her," he whispered. "I fought them both that night, the storm and my brother, and both battles were bitter and savage.

"Obsidian raged at me, shouting and cursing at me for banishing him, for turning on him, for betraying him. We fought for over an hour. Finally, I managed to stun him with a blow to his head from my tail while simultaneously snapping one of his wing joints and shredding his other wing with my claws as he rolled away from me. He couldn't sustain flight anymore. He flipped, buffeted and totally at the mercy of the winds, before plummeting into the mountainous waves, cursing me and screaming at me as he went.

"Everything about that night is still crystal-clear for me—from watching your mother get smaller and smaller as I flew away from her to watching Obsidian fall from the sky, rage and mania obscuring the eyes that I used to tell my boyhood secrets to. The memories are perfect." He closed his eyes, shuddering. "It is a curse, Auri, to be able to remember things so vividly, especially when it is things such as these.

"Her face was calm, your mother's. When I flew away, her face and emotions were perfectly calm. I always wondered why she felt such peace as I flew away. I always wondered what she was thinking of in that moment."

"You could feel her emotions?"

Cerralys nodded. "Dragon emotions are vast, and so are elven emotions. The bond between your mother and I had already taken place. I felt her emotions as if they were my own. In fact, it was partly her sense of calm that allowed me to survive the fight with Obsidian. Later, I came to realize that she was conscious of the gift that she was giving. She was more worried for my safety than her own, but shoved it away from her and instead bolstered me with the calm and peace that I needed to think clearly. I raced away that night, hoping to save her life. But, as always, Jenna saved mine.

"After the fight, I fought the winds for hours in my desperation to return to her, but my body had nothing left to give, and the winds finally won. They tore my wing joints out of their sockets, and I too plunged into the waters. The waves over my head were like giant mountains, crushing me beneath their depths. I thought of your mother then. I knew I was going to die, but I hoped that she might live. I hoped that she and the baby would be safe," he whispered.

"You knew of me?"

Cerralys smiled sadly. "Yes. I knew. I knew before she did. Dragon senses are keener than elven senses. I could smell the new life growing within her."

He looked at her in silence for a minute, and, as had been happening all night, they spoke without words. She saw his love for her, sudden and consuming. She _felt_ it. It healed something inside of her; something that she hadn't even realized had been diseased. It was then that she began to get the first intimations of what Nachal had been trying to say at the tiered waterfalls of El`dell. She began to understand how this being changed people's lives, changed histories and kingdoms, changed darkness to light, simply by being the person that he was. It was no wonder that Watcher from long ago had been drawn there. It was a wonder to her that all of them weren't drawn there.

Wolf laid his head down upon Cerralys' lap, and the king rubbed his fur with smooth, gentle strokes. "I awoke to Drashmere towing me toward land. I ordered him to turn around and tow me back to the ship, to Jenna. We argued, but finally he relented. When we arrived at the ship, there was hardly anything left of it. It looked as if a giant hand had grabbed it up and crushed it between its mighty fingers.

"I refused to believe that she was gone. I could still feel her within me. Her heartbeat. Her love. The wreckage was everywhere, strewn over a dozen leagues of open seas. Some of it had already submerged and was buried within the sea's depths. We searched through it all, but found no survivors. In the end, I convinced myself that the heart I felt beating was only my consuming desire that she still be alive.

"I came here, to Eldaria, and commissioned the building of The Hall. It was to be a monument to her. To the life that I had wanted so desperately with her. But after it was finished, I realized that no edifice of cold stone should memorialize the warm heart and passions of a being that had changed my life, and so many other lives, so completely. I chose not to name it after its conceived name—Jenna Hall—and instead just let it be The Hall. I had started it amidst mindless, endless grief, but by the end of its construction, I didn't care whether it all toppled down around me or not because, somewhere in the middle, I knew with absolute certainty that she was gone and that everything would be forever changed."

His voice, which long had been a harsh whisper, now became fierce. His eyes blazed as they swung away from the ocean and found her. "I loved your mother with everything within me. When she died, I died too. I felt as if most of me—my soul, my mind, my body—had been sheared ruthlessly from me. There will never be another who can replace her. She will always be a part of me, and I of her." He choked on the last words, his voice becoming mangled and torn and then drifting off into silence.

Everything was quiet. The wind had long since died down to a faint whisper, and the sky was just starting to turn pink with the first flushes of the new dawn. With her head on her father's shoulder, and her eyes locked on the distant Tide Skimmer anchored out to sea, she thought about her mother's last two years of life. She thought about Valdys's ships scouring the ocean and his retinue of investigators searching for word of Cerralys. She thought of her mother slowly dying inside from grief, just as her father had been. Somehow . . . somehow she knew that it was at the time of her mother's _real_ death that Cerralys had finally felt that she was gone. That he _knew_ , finally and completely, that she was dead. He had been right all along. He had felt her. And just as he had felt her life, he had also felt her death.

"My mother was murdered."

Cerralys stiffened. She could feel his eyes on her face, but it was a moment or two before she could face him. "I'm sorry," she said sadly, finally turning. "I thought you should know. She lived another two years after the ship went down, and, in the end, she was murdered by assassins. One of her guards survived long enough to tell us before he died. Valdys believes, even still today, that the assassins were sent from his brother Krellys. But Krellys has gone deep into hiding, and, though Valdys has searched and continues to search, has thus far not been found."

"Krellys," the king choked. His face hardened. "I too have been unable to find him."

Auri nodded sadly. She knew the reason that Cerralys had been searching for Krellys.

Nachal.

"I know," she murmured. "You wanted Nachal safe." She looked out at the ship again, dipping and cresting slightly with the relentless push and pull of the sea. "Alera hinted to me whose child he is, and he told me that you are his foster father. I knew that you must still be keeping him here so that you can protect him."

The king settled back on his hands, his expression subdued. "I can no longer protect him. I realized that not long ago. He is a man now, old enough to fight his own battles. For all my experience and age, I had never raised a child." He turned and smiled at her. "The theory and practice are quite different, you know. I've never quite gotten used to the way it consumes my thoughts—doubly so when that child is in constant danger from outside forces." His face grew sad, his eyes dimmed. "I would have liked to have seen your childhood, Auri. I would give _anything_ if I could somehow force time to give me back all of the years that I've lost with you."

"We have the future," she said softly.

Pain flashed through his eyes. He looked away from her, and she felt the unspoken words—do we?

"I'd like that," he murmured just as softly. He turned back to her, desperate hope brimming in his eyes. "Are you . . . going to stay? Or perhaps you would like to return to your home in Torar-Araldyn."

Her smile was gentle. Her choice had already been made. "I'd like to stay if you'll have me."

His eyes lit, becoming fierce in their fervency. "Forever."

She smiled, putting her head down onto his shoulder again, contentedly watching as the sun finally came up over the water. "I don't know," she said with laughter in her voice. "Forever is really almost forever with dragons. You might get sick of me and wish to toss me out on my ear after a while."

He laughed too, and in that moment it seemed as though the pain of the night was absent, swallowed up by the rising golden sun. "I think the reverse is far more likely," he said with a wry smile.

They sat in contentment for a long while, perhaps another hour or so, before Auri finally said in a speculative tone, "Perhaps someone should let those on the Tide Skimmer know that they can disembark now."

Cerralys chuckled. "We will. Eventually."

## 25

# All Good Things

Seven nights later, Auri was sitting on the highest point of the cliff—a bluff that was situated with the backdrop of The Hall behind it and a panoramic view of the sparkling Eldrian Sea below it—alone with her thoughts.

Intelligence was coming in every few days, and the reports were sickening. More towns burned. More ports cut off. More people dying. The thought of so much chaos, so much death, made her sick inside. It smoldered and smoldered inside of her, burning away at her heart, eating its way through her mind.

She knew firsthand what death looked like. What face it wore. What cries came from its lips.

She was beginning to _feel_ it.

At first it came in flashes—a sick feeling so strong that it made her want to simultaneously drop to her knees to throw up and huddle in a tight ball until the sobs became only whimpers. Then the flashes grew longer. Then longer. Now she could feel it all the time.

Liran had caught her once, on her knees with tears streaming helplessly from her eyes. He had helped her to her feet and showed her how to distance herself from it. It was impossible to close off completely, but the distance helped. Before he had walked away, she had sensed the fear that he was trying to hide from her.

That was another thing that had come suddenly: flashes of others' emotions. It was something that she was trying very hard to get used to.

She felt adrift sometimes. Cut off from what was happening to her. Almost as though it were happening to someone else. But then she would look around her and see the fear in the eyes of those closest to her, and suddenly she wasn't adrift anymore. Because this was _real_. And this was _now_. And she had better learn to deal with it or it would eat her alive.

Nachal was suddenly squatting down in front of her.

"Hi," he murmured, kissing her mouth. "Can I join you?"

She nodded, grateful to see him. He had been gone all day. Liran had been gone for several. . .

He settled in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned back against his chest. "It's peaceful tonight," he said quietly.

"Yes." The stars seemed close that night, bright and vibrant in the inky sky. "How's Dhurmic?"

"Eating his way through the larder." She could hear the smile in his voice, and she tilted her head up to see his face above her. He looked down at her, eyes sparkling. "I think he's making up for all the meals he lost on the ship."

"Hopefully, Cerralys can afford to feed him for a little while longer. I'll miss him when he goes."

"I think Cerralys can afford a lot more than keeping Dhurmic's appetite satisfied," Nachal said dryly. He kissed her nose. "Make sure I'm around when you tell Dhurmic that you'll miss him."

She frowned in confusion. "Why?"

He flashed a wicked grin. "I enjoy watching him squirm."

She laughed, dropping her head to watch the sea again. "You two have the strangest relationship."

They sat in silence for a while before Nachal asked in a gentle voice, "How are you feeling?"

She didn't know how to respond to that. Confused. Scared. Alone, despite his company and the constant eyes of the others watching her. Sick from all the death and decay. Weary. Tired. She went with the last one. "I'm tired," she said with a sigh.

His arms tightened around her for an instant before relaxing. "Why don't you go up to bed?"

"Can't sleep."

She felt a brief flash of emotion from him—worry—and then he pulled her closer to him and tucked her head beneath his chin. "I'll stay out here with you. Maybe you'll fall asleep."

"Won't you get cold?"

"Not with a dragon to keep me warm," he murmured.

She laughed, tilting her face back up to him, and was surprised when his mouth came down on hers, silencing what she had been about to say. Another flash—desire—before he lifted his head and stared down at her. "I don't want you to say it back, because I know that you don't feel the same way, but I wanted you to know that, whatever happens, I'll stand by you. I love you, Auri."

She dropped her head back down, as quiet as the night that surrounded them. The irony of it was she loved him too. Eventually, in the silence, they both drifted off to sleep.

She jerked awake, smothering the scream before it escaped her mouth. She bit down on her lips hard until she tasted blood. Tears choked her vision, spilling from her eyes. She raised a trembling hand and gently lifted Nachal's arm off of her. Slipping out from beside him, she sat with her arms huddled around her trembling body.

She closed her eyes. Images flashed behind them. A field of blood. Swords flashing in the night. Black wings and inky scales descending. A horrible screech. Armies marching against each other. Valdys. Obsidian.

She opened her eyes and stared at Wolf who stared back at her with his sad, blue ones. It was the way he looked at her when he knew that she was in pain.

"I have to go," she whimpered.

He rose to all fours, glancing down at Nachal before looking back up at her. His eyes held a question.

"I can't," she whispered, anguish etched in every syllable of her words. She stared down at Nachal's face and kissed his mouth softly. "He can't come with me, Wolf. If he does, he'll die too." The tears streamed down her face faster and she wiped them away impatiently as she tried to think of a plan. She had to get outside the gates . . .

Cerralys awoke with a harsh cry. His pulse thrummed inside his chest as he ripped the covers off of himself and ran to the door. Jerking it open, he ran across the hall to Nachal's bedroom and ripped aside the curtain surrounding his bed.

_Empty_.

He ran to Auri's bedroom and did the same.

_Empty_.

"Liran, Dhurmic, I need you **NOW**!" he bellowed.

A door opened almost immediately, followed a few seconds later by another. He was already down the hall and almost to the stairs before Liran caught up with him. "Auri is missing. Find out what happened at the gates," he commanded.

Liran's face went chalk pale before he nodded his head once with a sharp jerk and flew down the stairs.

Dhurmic was running behind him. He could hear him puffing hard, straining to keep up with him.

They found Nachal at the cliff.

Cerralys knelt beside him and touched Nachal's forehead gently with the tips of his fingers. The boy was sweating profusely, yet his skin felt cold and clammy. "No," he whispered. His eyes were wide, staring down at his son. The beat inside of him, the brush of wings against the confines of his mind, stretched and stretched until he wanted to scream.

Dhurmic finally reached him. "What's wrong?" He looked down at Nachal and then up again, his black eyes flashing fear. "Is he ill?"

Cerralys didn't answer him. He stood quickly. "Find someone to help you carry him to his room. Liran will join you in a minute."

He walked quickly away; the beat, beat, beat of the wings against his mind felt like they were beating against a cage of rotted iron. He rounded the corner into the east courtyard, and Liran was suddenly at his side.

"The guards at the gate said that she told them she had an urgent message to deliver to me. A message that you sent. They tried to send an escort with her, but she lost them once she hit the trees. They're searching for her now. Permission to join the search, sire?"

His voice was hard, but Cerralys well knew the terror raging through the elf right now. He felt it himself. "You cannot stop an army single-handedly, Liran. Not even _you_ are that good."

"You know where she is?" Liran growled. "Tell me. I may not be able to stop an army, but I might be able to get her out alive!"

Cerralys stopped walking abruptly and looked at him. He saw the love that the Watcher felt for his daughter. The love that he tried so hard to keep hidden. The beat of the wings against the confines of his shell, against the confines of his mind, grew more burdensome. "You already _know_ where she is, Liran, if you stop to _see_ her."

He watched Liran close his eyes, searching for her with his graces. A moment later, the pallor of his skin went stark white, and when he opened his eyes they were like twin beams of pain and terror. "She's almost there," he whispered as though tortured. He whipped around suddenly, heading for the gates, but Cerralys reached out and gripped his arm tightly, stopping him.

"I need you _here_ ," he said harshly. "You won't be able to reach her in time. Nachal needs an elf's skill of healing, and my daughter needs a dragon. She needs _me_."

Liran's head turned slowly, ever so slowly, to stare at him. Their eyes locked. Held. Then he nodded. "What do you need me to do?" he asked quietly.

"First, I need you to telepathically contact the Luminari. Tell them what's happening." Cerralys brought a picture of the plains into his mind and said, "There's a place in my mind. Memorize it and give it to them. Tell them to meet me there if they can get there in time, but to be cautious. I'm most likely flying into a trap. Next, I need you to go to Nachal's room, and tell Dhurmic to rouse the entire garrison, high alert status. And then—ˮ His voice broke. He swallowed. "And then I need you to try to keep my son alive until I return."

Nachal's eyes opened to walls of fire.

It wasn't until he looked down at the feet flying over the earth that fear crackled like lightning up his body.

Auri's feet. Auri's heart that beat inside of his chest. Auri's terror that was clawing its way into his heart and mind. Auri's eyes that he was seeing everything out of. Auri's lungs that choked and burned. Auri's pain . . . but his as well. It had swelled, splitting into two and then merging again as one. His pain had joined hers. He was sharing her body through a dream. _The_ dream. The dream that had started this all.

This time he _knew_ it was different, _knew_ that it was real. There was no mistaking the smoke that saturated the air, choking them, no mistaking the sounds of men dying, of shouting, of chaos, and there was no mistaking her fear. She was choking on it, nearly paralyzed with it. And yet her feet kept moving forward. They flew forward over the scorched earth, running faster than anyone he had ever seen. Wolf was running with her, struggling to keep up.

Walls of flame were everywhere. Trees and brush were blackened, eaten alive by iridescent, glowing fire. Soon, it became an inferno, consuming everything in its path. She dashed around a boulder, dodging a falling tree. Another wall of fire, this one much higher and hotter, blocked her path. She shrieked as the whole wall seemed to crumble and it toppled towards her. She and Wolf jumped, trying to get out of the way, but she couldn't move fast enough. It tumbled around her, blocking her in. She looked at Wolf through the flames and then turned to watch the circle close in on her with a racing heart. Fear sizzled through her veins.

Nachal started screaming inside of her mind. _Run! Run!_

Knowing that there was no other answer, she covered her face with her arms and hands and ran, jumping through the crackling wall of flames directly in front of her. Her clothes scorched and burned, sticking to her legs and arms painfully, melding to her seared skin. She whimpered breathlessly and kept running for the clearing that was just ahead.

When she reached the clearing she was blinded for a moment, and then her eyes cleared and she stared at the chaos surrounding her. The plain in front of her was surrounded on all sides by fire; a circular ring of molten heat that would incinerate anyone who attempted to flee.

Men were fighting everywhere. Bodies littered the ground. The stench and tumult of noise out there was overpowering, but she couldn't remain where she was. The forest behind her was like a huge wall of living fire, and it was almost upon her again. She had maybe a minute before it reached her.

Nachal stilled, clamping down on his fear for her, as she closed her eyes and stilled her tumbling thoughts, searching. Suddenly, it was like a door opened up. Sound and feeling and sight were a wall that slammed into her. Into them. The chaos was overpowering. Like searching for the breath and warmth of one person amidst the cold, dying screams of thousands.

And then something shifted. She tilted her head up to the sky, still with her eyes closed, and listened to the sound of a deep and constant thrumming.

Fear, cold and absolute, shot through Nachal at the sound. She might not know what the sound was, but _he_ did. He shouted it into her mind: **_Obsidian_!**

Her eyes flew open. Through the smoke and the bodies, a hazy line of sight opened. Her eyes grew sharper as she focused, and she saw a rider sitting atop a pale grey stallion, calling to the archers to the rear of him. The thrumming descended. A hush spread. The rider looked up and horror swept across his face. It was the look of someone who knew that he was about to die.

" _Valdys_!" Auri's gurgled scream was choked off with a sob as she started to shake. The flames were licking at her back now, scorching her.

Instantly, Nachal felt the change. Auri stared ahead, tears streaming down her burned and sooty face, and accepted the fact that she would die there. That no matter how fast she ran she would be too late. And no matter how hard she fought she would lose. Serenity enveloped her for a brief moment. She thought of her father, of Liran, of him . . . and then she started running because, even if it was hopeless, she was still going to try.

He didn't pause to think. He just knew—with absolute certainty—that she would die without him. There was a barrier between their minds, a separate and distinct barrier that allowed him to retain his autonomy within her body.

He ripped it down, submerging himself within her—and they became one.

A heartbeat later. . .

We drew air, and then choked on the ash that swirled around us, invading our lungs. Tears obscured our vision until we reached up with a sooty fist and knuckled them away. Faster we flew; faster than anything else around us. The horror of the battlefield seemed far away. Our whole focus was entirely consumed by one man, and the dragon that was almost upon him. The time passing couldn't be counted in minutes, only in frenzied heartbeats.

We tried to shout his name, " _Valdys_!" but it came out as another gurgled scream. All of the smoke had stolen our voice. We pumped our legs harder, dodging the arrows that zinged past us and the soldiers—both the living and the dead.

In the end, we were too late.

Obsidian pounced. His sharp talons cut through Valdys's middle, ripping his chest open. Then he shot straight up with him, into the smoke-clogged atmosphere, and dropped him. He fell to the ground with a sickening thud, directly at our feet.

We dropped to our knees beside him. An anguished keening broke from our lips before we could choke out his name. With our whole body quivering like a broken arrow, we batted his fumbling hands away and submerged our hands into his abdomen and chest, trying in vain to staunch the gaping holes that Obsidian's claws had made. We couldn't. His blood gushed all around our fingers with a mind and will of its own, hot and thick, and soaking into the dirt around the man we loved. " _Valdys_ ," we cried brokenly.

All of the sounds of the battlefield faded, churning within the sluggish, crazed haze of our mind. Until, finally, the only sound that we could hear was the sound of our ragged breathing. In . . . out . . . in . . . out. The cusp of eternity seemed wide and unbroken in this one moment of time. We accepted the gift. It was all that we had.

His grey eyes opened, pain filled but lucid. "Auri, _run_!" he choked.

"We cannot run," we sobbed. We couldn't leave him to die alone.

"You must," he grunted. His back arched as a racking cough bubbled up out of his ripped chest, blood oozing down the side of his mouth. We stared at the single line in horror.

He gripped our shirt with surprising strength, and pulled us until we were only inches from his face. "I . . . love you, Auri," he rasped. He coughed and choked up more blood. Our tears dripped onto his face, mingling with his own. The light slowly dimmed from his eyes as we watched in anguish.

"No," we moaned in a broken whisper. "Don't leave us."

He drew us still closer until we could hear the thready, gasping breaths that came from his lips. "Krellys . . . is in league . . . with the rebel . . . dragons," he gasped. Then his eyes widened slowly as though he were seeing something just beyond our vision. His grip slackened, freeing us, and his loosed fist fell to the earth. A soft sigh escaped his lips. "Love . . . daughter . . ."

## 26

# Dragon's Blood

We stared down at him, unable to move, or breathe or think, and then the sounds of the battle raging all around us finally intruded, and we forced ourself to let him go. We had to force our bloodied hands to let go as we drew them from within his chest. We wrapped them around his shoulders, and put our cheek to his.

"Goodbye," we whispered into his ear then we kissed his forehead and closed his eyes.

Our whole body shook as we knelt there, staring at him. We felt suddenly lost. Bereft of purpose. Adrift on an endless sea. We had failed, and Valdys was gone forever. We wouldn't see his grey eyes light up again. We wouldn't hear his voice or see his smile. He was gone.

A screech punctured the air high above us, ripping through the night sky, and we slowly looked up.

Obsidian.

He had killed Valdys.

He was going to kill us as well.

And, if we didn't stop him, he would draw Cerralys out the same way that he had drawn Valdys out and kill him too.

Suddenly, it was too much. We didn't care so much about ourself in that moment, but we wouldn't let him kill another father. Not while we still had life and breath within us.

We gritted our teeth and picked up Valdys's fallen sword. "Obsidian!" we shouted. "Come and get us!" He bellowed another screech as he found our position amidst the smoke and then he tightened his inky black wings against his body and dived.

We welcomed him with a grim smile, standing with the blade ready. We waited, counting the pulses of our beating heart. _One_ . . . _two_ . . . _three_. . . On four he was upon us. We brought the sword down, slashing it across his outstretched talons, and then we dived, rolling away at the last possible moment.

He screamed, scorching the air with a stream of fire from behind his jaws. We rolled again to the side and felt the skin of our back burn and blister as the fire streamed above us. He turned, holding himself aloft with the steady thrum of his wings, and lashed out with his tail. It connected with our right arm with a sickening snap.

We moaned in pain, clutching it to our chest. Our sword clanged to the ground, useless. His talons finally found their mark as they raked down our scorched back, leaving deep, burning-red rivulets of blood. We screamed shrilly, and went down on one knee, gasping from the pain.

He circled us, as a shark does before moving in for the kill. His great wings fanned the smoke with every downward slice, making it swirl around us like a twisting cyclone of soot and ash. We stared up at him, holding our broken arm to our chest, and watched as death circled closer.

Through the red haze of pain, we remembered Cerralys. We remembered why we were doing this. For the king. For our father. We picked up the sword, gripping it tightly in our left hand, and stumbled down the lip of the ledge and into the battle that was still being waged all around us.

Archers let loose dozens of arrows into the night sky. Obsidian screamed. We looked up, searching for him, and then dove to the ground as he grazed the skin of our flayed back and neck with his razor-sharp talons. We had to _live_. We could not leave Cerralys alone. Hot tears ran down our face as we grimly tried to rise, but the pain was too much. We fell to the earth, staring up at the dark sky as men fell to the ground all around us.

Suddenly, all the fighting stopped, and everyone looked up at the sound of a roar that slammed into our chest, ripping our breath away in fear. He began his descent again, his great wings shadowing the flames.

Time seemed to stop.

He dove.

We couldn't move. And, even if we could, we wouldn't be fast enough. He plucked us effortlessly from the blood-soaked ground, crushing our ribs with his powerful claws.

_My beloved niece_ , he rasped to our mind, filling it with glacier coldness. _I tire of this_. His talons dug into our skin, puncturing through the thin membrane to the vital organs within our body.

We screamed silently. There was no breath in our body for voice. A bone dagger was shoved in our belt. We pulled it out, gazed at it with a prayer on our lips, gripped it with every last bit of strength we had, and _drove_ it deeply into Obsidian's foreleg. We drove it in until our hands were covered with his blood as well. Blue dragon blood. It mingled with the red blood already caked on our hands from our father.

The claws spasmed around us. At first they went deeper into our body and then they spasmed again, releasing us. He screamed in rage as we plummeted to the earth. We never felt the landing.

When the black haze of unconsciousness left us, we moaned in agony. Fire ate at our lungs and our body, burning it with an inferno of exquisite torment. Our left hand clawed at the earth as we tried not to scream. We didn't know how long we laid there—it could have been hours—before our sight started to blur, and the pain racking our body began to diminish and fall away.

The fighting seemed to grow more distant. We could hear Obsidian screeching, searching for us through the bodies and the smoke. One fallen figure among thousands.

A hoarse voice shouted, " _Fire_!" and we smiled grimly as a flood of arrows were loosed into the sky. Valdys's men still fought. There was still hope that they would bring Obsidian down.

We started to drift. . . The din grew even more distant, more surreal. A hush seemed to whisper across the plain. Our eyes closed, too heavy to hold open any more.

Suddenly, cool, clear air breathed down on us from above. Gentle claws picked us up, clasping around our damaged frame with the utmost softness. We struggled to open our heavy eyes. Finally managing a small slit, we looked up at him.

Cerralys.

His white, massive, pearlescent form filled our vision. His mighty wings arched far to our left and right, beating swiftly and powerfully. An enraged shout echoed from behind us and he flew even faster, bursting through the sky like the prelude to the dawn.

"You came," we whispered. Utter peace enveloped us. Cerralys had come. Had he brought the light that we saw behind our closed eyelids?

"I'm sorry," he choked. "So sorry." His face spasmed in pain. His eyes were beams of light, piercing us with his sorrow.

"It's alright," we whispered. _Don't cry_ , we wanted to say. _Don't mourn_. We lifted our impossibly heavy hand, and placed it against his heart. It beat fast against our skin, blossoming warmth within us. The steady beat of it was a sound more soothing than any other sound in the world. Cerralys would live. We had failed one father, but we hadn't failed the other.

"Sorry," we whispered. His heart beat faster, sloshing through his veins and body so loudly that it seemed as though it was about to pound out of his chest. We opened our eyes to slits again to make sure that he understood. _Sorry for the pain that you feel. Sorry we couldn't be here with you. Sorry for leaving you too_. We wanted to say it aloud, but couldn't find the strength.

It didn't matter that we couldn't say it; we saw that he understood. Large, pearly tears blurred his eyes, running quickly down his face. His wings beat faster, and we watched them dimly in amazement. They were as fast as a hummingbird's; so fast that they were only a blur of sound and movement.

A wonderful warm light was enfolding us, drawing us in. We were surprised. We always thought that death would be cold, dark, but it was neither of these things. Any lingering pain faded away. Our limbs and vitals felt as though they were pulsing with brilliant, golden warmth. We smiled as we finally let go, and the gleaming darkness claimed us.

Cerralys landed in the courtyard, transforming the minute his clawed feet hit the dirt into his elven form. Liran was the only one standing there waiting for him. When he saw how badly Auri was damaged, he looked at her with something much deeper and much more palpable than anguish. Nature shuddered as he staggered, reaching for her. Cerralys held a hand up, blocking him.

"Liran!" The elf's eyes drifted slowly up, as though looking up from the deepest, darkest depths imaginable. "I think I can still save her."

"How?" Liran's voice was pure pain.

"Dragon's blood."

The elf's golden-amber eyes flashed brighter for an instant, and then he looked at Auri, squeezed his eyes shut against the blood dripping from her wounds, and spoke through stiff, pale lips. "What can I do?"

"Meet me in Nachal's room with hot water and clean rags," Cerralys commanded in a clipped voice. He left Liran at a run, and flew with Auri up the stairs. At Nachal's door, he jerked down on the lever with the tips of his fingers, and kicked it open. It slammed against the wall behind it with a crash.

Dhurmic's head jerked around to stare at him and then at Auri. He paled noticeably. "Move him," Cerralys ordered the dwarf in a tightly controlled voice.

Dhurmic moved quickly, adjusting Nachal so that he was on the right side of the bed only. Cerralys laid Auri gently down on the white linen sheets at Nachal's side. Her blood stained them immediately.

He forced his eyes away from his daughter to his son. Nachal's skin was slightly grey, and his breathing was shallow and slow. He was fading. Time was slipping. Slipping. He clenched his eyes shut for a minute, took a deep, even breath, and then turned to Dhurmic who stood looking at him as though he could solve the ills of the world.

"Can ye heal them?"

"I'm going to try," he said grimly, handing Dhurmic a dagger. "I need you to hold this in the fire."

Dhurmic nodded. He took the dagger and walked quickly to the fire blazing in the hearth. Cerralys turned back to Auri and held her hand. "Don't leave me," he whispered brokenly. "Please, Auri. Fight. _Fight_!"

The door opened with another bang as Liran strode in with a bucket of steaming hot water and some clean cloths. Dhurmic held out the blade with a pair of hearth tongs. Cerralys took it with his bare hands. It burned, but he hardly noticed. What was the pain of his hand compared with the pain drilling into his soul?

He set the bucket of water directly beneath him, held his arm over the bucket so none of his blood would be lost or wasted, brought the blade down, and sliced through his skin in one long, clean stroke. The blue blood welled immediately to the surface, and then began dripping down his arm and into the water. He did it again, and again, and again. When veins closed—and they did quickly—he was forced to open new ones. The pain of it was far away. Meaningless.

After what seemed like an eternity, the dilution of blood to water was finally right. Pure blood was too potent at this stage, and might cause Auri's body to go into shock. He stuck the knife into the water and swirled it quickly around; it sizzled as the blood was licked clean from it. Before the water had even stopped swirling, he dipped one of the clean cloths into it.

His heart beat out a staccato, thumping rhythm inside of his chest as he squeezed the rag and poured the diluted mixture of blood and water into Auri's wounds— _Too late, too late, too late._ His chest started to burn, and he fought back the release of the sickening acid that was trying to claw its way up his throat. _Too late, Cerralys. Too late to save them._ He ignored the macabre voice and dipped the cloth again and again into the blue steaming water.

The bleeding stopped immediately. He had to flip her over onto her side so that he could get to her back. Hands held her steady so that he could work. He couldn't take his eyes from his daughter to see whose hands they were. It didn't matter.

After a few minutes of this, he judged that her body should be able to handle the undiluted dragon's blood. He picked up the blade again and sliced his fingers until the blood dripped down. Then he bathed the worst wounds—those to her vital organs—with the undiluted substance.

His hands flew over her body, working feverishly over the damaged areas: her punctured chest, abdomen and back. Her broken arm he set last. It was the least of his worries.

Was it his imagination or did their combined breathing seem stronger? Did Nachal's skin look less grey?

More cloth was shoved into his hands and he started the whole process over again. His hands knew the rhythm and worked without conscious thought.

His mind drifted, remembering flashes of things. Auri's smile, so similar to her mother's. Auri's eyes looking up at him with love and trust. Auri's eyes as they drifted closed that last time.

The hand that bathed her wounds shook.

The whole room was hushed. Not a sound—other than the sound of his breath and his arm still dripping blue into the water—could be heard as he relived that smile again and again. As he relived the last se'nnight again and again.

Someone hissed, bringing his mind back to the present, and he looked down at the punctures in her abdomen. Slowly, ever so slowly, he could see the damage beginning to reverse, the punctures beginning to seal. Someone breathed next to him, a gusty exhale. He ignored them, watching his daughter with palpable focus and energy.

As they began to heal more visibly, he dug gently inside of her stomach and chest for more punctures. He found another three and worked quickly to get those sealed as well.

When he couldn't find any more, he turned quickly to Liran, a question on his lips; but before he could ask it, the Watcher knelt beside her, taking her hand and closing his eyes. The room stilled even more, absent of all sound and movement.

Finally, Liran opened his eyes and nodded. "The wounds to her vitals are sealed," he said quietly. "Her arm is also healed. The tears along the outer layer of skin are all that are left."

Cerralys nodded and began to work again, sealing his daughter's pale, torn skin. Liran held her hand as the king slashed his hand directly again and smeared his undiluted, blue blood all over the outer punctures of her skin. Then he repeated the process. Slowly, the skin began to knit and seal until, finally, all of the punctures were closed.

When he was done, he knelt beside her and took the hand that Liran released. With the stillness, the burning inside of him returned. The beat of wings still brushed against the shell of his body, and the acid still wanted to erupt from his mouth.

He forced it all away with iron will and gazed down at his left arm. Hundreds of crisscrossed slashes of blue worked their way from the top of his arm all the way down to his clenched hand. The blood from them oozed in deep blue droplets, coalescing and dripping down onto the bed where it lay next to the arm that was whole. He looked away, ignoring it, and watched his children.

He didn't even glance away as someone began to bathe his arm in warm, clean water. Didn't even realize that tears were leaking down his face, dripping onto his slashed arm. The tears sizzled as they met the blood, both liquids purifying each other.

He grabbed the stained linen sheet and pulled it over his daughter's nakedness. The intruding hands rubbed something foul onto his arm and then withdrew. He couldn't force his eyes away from her to see who it was.

If he could save his daughter, he knew that he could save them both. Nachal's wounds were shadow wounds—wounds that were inflicted while experiencing a dragon dream. His son had been damaged in the same vital areas as Auri, only Nachal's wounds would never show. Invisible but still deadly. Deadlier maybe, because shadow wounds were almost impossible to cure.

If it weren't for the connection formed between them during Nachal's dragon dream, they both would have been lost. He knew that with utter certainty because whatever happened during a connected dragon dream to one happened to both. A sort of symbiosis effect. It was because of this that he knew that whatever _healed_ Auri healed Nachal as well. The effect would last for a short time, eventually fading away without the bond.

The drip, drip sound was muted now. It came from the tears streaming off of his face and hitting the stained sheets. He watched—almost without blinking—as his children drew air in and out of their lungs. Their breathing was synchronized perfectly. In they breathed and out. In and out. He watched the air being pulled into their lungs, and watched in agony as it blew out again, praying with everything inside of him that the miracle of their breath would go on.

His vigil continued. Time ceased to mean anything to him. He never looked around, never watched anything but the air being brought into their bodies and leaving again. Hours later—it could have been days—Auri stirred.

His shoulders started to shake in silent, violent sobs. His whole body shook with them. He couldn't catch his breath; it gasped and gasped from his mouth like a fish out of water. And that was how his daughter found him when she awoke.

"Don't cry," she whispered feebly without opening her eyes. He brought her searching fingers to his face and then knelt over her until his forehead was resting against hers. She opened her eyes a tiny slit. Blue looked into blue.

"I love you, Auri," he whispered fiercely, wanting her to hear the words.

She gazed at him silently, too weak to speak. After a moment, her eyes drifted closed again, and the hand within his fell limp.

He knelt there by the bed with her limp hand still in his, lifted his face to the sun that began to stream in through Nachal's window, and let the tears run unchecked down his face. His daughter and son would be alright. Morning had come.

## 27

# Sacrifice

Nachal groaned and opened his eyes. Memories of the dream flooded back to him and he turned his head, gazing at the elf beside him.

Auri.

He watched her—the rise and fall of her chest, the air escaping through her mouth, the slight pucker of her lips, the slow fluttering of her closed eyelids—and he smiled in wonder. They had done it! They had made it out alive!

He slowly pulled himself up onto his elbows, groaned softly as pain throbbed through his entire body, and gently leaned over and kissed her. He smiled softly at her angelic face then slowly glanced around his room while attempting to pull himself more upright. He expected his room to be as empty as the lack of noise indicated, but it wasn't. Cerralys sat in the chair before the fire. Again. Nachal smiled at him ruefully.

"Weren't you just here?"

Cerralys was somber. "It's been several months since I've been up to your rooms."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes. I do."

They looked at each other across the small distance that separated them.

"Welcome back," Cerralys said hoarsely.

"Thank you." Nachal turned back once more—almost instinctively—to look at Auri before twisting his body around so that his feet hung over the side of the bed. Another pained groan welled up within him, but he held it in, breathing deeply for a minute with his eyes clenched shut.

Cerralys was instantly beside him. "Easy," he said quietly. "Take it slowly."

Nachal nodded, gritted his teeth, and stood, swaying dangerously despite Cerralys's steadying hands. They inched slowly, agonizingly, over to the open balcony doors. Once they were outside, Nachal shifted his weight from his father to the balcony railing and looked around him.

The sun was high in the sky, warm on his chilled, pale skin. Activity in the courtyard below was noisy but otherwise normal. His attention was arrested suddenly by the arm that was placed next to his on the balcony railing.

Angry, crisscrossed hatches of blue ran down the king's left arm, all the way down to his hand. Along the pads of his fingers were more angry lines of blue. Nachal looked at them a long time, remembering the ancient stories that he had been taught as a child. The stories of dragon's blood and the reputed healing properties that it had. He knew that dragon tears, infused into metal, created weapons of unparalleled strength, but he had never seen—never felt—the effects of dragon's blood. The last time it had been used was before he was born; during the great Dragon War.

He thought about the being next to him—about loss and pain, about strength and sacrifice, about love—and he had to swallow hard. Before, on the plain and then in the air, he and Auri had been certain that they would die. But they hadn't. Because the person standing next to him had refused to give up on them.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for saving us."

Cerralys didn't acknowledge his gratitude for a moment, and then he whispered, so softly that Nachal could barely hear him, "I saved myself as well."

Instantly, Nachal understood.

Wasn't that, at least in part, how he felt about Auri? That saving her was saving himself as well?

"She'll have to leave, won't she?" It wasn't really a question. He knew the answer already.

"Yes." There was pain in the ancient voice.

Nachal shifted a little, taking the weight off of his right foot. The throbbing up and down his leg lessened noticeably. "Where will you send her?"

"To the only places where she has both a chance to be safe and a chance to learn about who and what she is. To the dragon schools."

Nachal nodded. It made sense to send her to the dragon schools. They were isolated, well protected, and governed by members of the Luminari. There she would be able to learn all of the things that she had missed out on being raised among his own kind. Among humans.

He never forgot for a single moment what he was. He was human, and yet he was more now. It wasn't just Auri. It wasn't just the gracing of the queen. It was a sense of destiny. Not destiny in the sense that everything about his life now was predetermined, but destiny in the sense that he knew that this was the right path for his life to take.

Ever since that first morning, after that first dream of Auri, he had felt its call. And then, looking at that wolf sitting on the plinth of snow on the Bremgar bridge . . . that sense of destiny calling. He had felt it then and felt it shiver through him now. This was the course his life was supposed to take. This is what felt right. He didn't know the final destination, but he knew that this was the right road to get him there.

"Will you send me with her?"

She had never felt so nervous in her whole, entire life.

She stood in the very center of the massive, open-aired Vu`lerr Sanctum. Around her were many dragons. They sat on circular rows of raised daises that started at the very top of the sanctum, high above her in the air, all the way down to just thirty yards from where she stood.

Every single eye in the room was upon her, and each flash of emotion that she felt from them threatened to overwhelm her. She tried Liran's distancing trick, and felt the emotions fade a little. Just enough for her to concentrate on what her father was saying.

"You want me . . . to go to school? I don't understand." The words sounded ridiculous to her. He wanted her to go to school? _Now_?

"The dragon schools are the only places on Terradin that you might be safe," he answered patiently. "Within the schools you will be guarded by one of the members of the Luminari you see here, as well as Nachal, and Dhurmic if he accepts. Also within the schools, you will have the chance, the opportunity, to learn about your heritage, both elven and dragon."

He was silent for a while, studying her face. His face grew somber. She felt the feelings in the room shift as well, as a deep somberness came over the other dragons—as though the feelings of the Luminari were, in that one instant, in complete concert with those of their king. "Dragons are the protectors, Auri," her father said quietly. "A long time ago, my brother lost faith in that. He rebelled against it, turning his back on it. On us. And because of his actions, he has brought about much suffering in this world. Not only have those within this room all lost someone, but many innocent people have suffered and died because of Obsidian's rage. They _still_ continue to die.

"Just as the elves have looked for something that would turn the tide, and help us to reclaim the peace and health of this world, so too have the dragons. What I felt, and the experiences that Nachal has had with the Dragon

Dreams, led me to encourage him to search for you."

He looked around him at the room, his eyes pausing at each face, each row, until finally they found hers again. The focus of the room intensified, becoming almost palpable. Each eye focused on her father. Waiting. Expectant. She swallowed as a deep feeling of foreboding swept over her.

" _You_ are the turn of the tide, Auri."

The air was swept from inside of her, from inside of the sanctum, leaving nothing for her to breathe. She could do nothing but stare at him. Didn't he know what position he was putting her in? Didn't he understand what would happen if she failed?

His eyes glistened with tears, with pain that was easy to see, and she saw the truth in them. He knew what he was asking of her, and he understood the consequences of failure better than maybe anyone else in the room.

She swallowed again, looking away from everyone. She could feel the tears build up in the back of her throat. When she spoke, her voice was a choked rasp. "I will go."

Low, murmuring voices began speaking to one another, but a pine-green dragon, Lady Chelriss, silenced them with a husky contralto voice that echoed across the vast chamber. "Will the Watcher, Liran of Elrise, please come into the sanctum?"

Auri's heart beat out a disjointed rhythm as Liran's footsteps whispered softly against the blue marbled floor, coming to a graceful stop beside hers. She felt his attention focus on her briefly, intensely, before moving to rest on her father. As Lady Chelriss resumed speaking aloud, her father and Liran seemed to be speaking to one another silently. Liran's stance went immediately rigid.

"This council has a special request of you," Lady Chelriss said softly, ignoring the silent byplay. "It is only with your graces that we have hope of finding the Lost Ones."

Liran's and the king's eyes were locked onto each other's. The air above them grew mournful. A sigh of wind whispered along the top of the sanctum and fluttered all the way down, gently ruffling her hair. The wind felt like a cry. Or a plea.

Her gaze moved back to her father. A single tear traced its way down his cheek.

"I cannot leave her," Liran whispered.

"You must."

A heavy weight of silence filled the room. Time passed as her father and Liran stared at each other. No one shifted or moved. No one even seemed to breathe.

Liran turned his head to look at her; emotions flashed through his eyes, making her heart skitter around in her chest. Then he faced the king again and nodded once before turning around to leave the sanctum.

Auri turned back to the king as he bowed his head; tears fell from his eyes. She was left standing there, feeling very much alone.

She found him at the cliff top, looking out over the sea in his dragon form. The moonlight glistened on his scales, throwing rainbow prisms of color across the water below. Quietly, she moved to sit in front of his left foreleg, and leaned back against the sure and solid strength of her father.

They were at peace now, though only hours before she had been arguing with him. Finally, he had silenced her. Not with a command, but with his gentle love. "I would give my life for yours in a moment," he had said. "It is mine to give." And with that he had walked away from her, leaving her staring after him with nothing on her lips to say.

She began to speak softly, not wanting to break the serene peace that surrounded them. "I've been thinking about sacrifice. The sacrifice of so many good people because they believe in something. Because they want a better future, a better world."

"Like your mother," the king's dragon voice rumbled quietly.

Auri nodded her head in agreement. "Like my mother . . . like you." She looked up at him, and found his face, many feet above her, looking down at her with love. "Each of you has sacrificed so much for a better world. For a more peaceful world." She looked away from his shining eyes and out across the sea. "I can only do the same. I will try, Cerralys. Because I have hope for a better world too and because I want to honor the sacrifices of those who have died believing in the same thing."

She felt the scales against her back become warm with emotion. "I will miss you," he whispered.

She didn't answer him straightaway. Instead, she thought of that moment when she had first awoken to the sound of his sobs. The moment when she had first realized that she wasn't dead, that Nachal and Cerralys had saved her, and that the empty hole in her heart was the absence of Valdys.

"I never got the chance to tell you . . . I love you too."

End Of Book One

# About the Author

Dusty lives in California with her family who keeps her very busy. She has superpowers, but doesn't want to make people jealous by talking about them.

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As an avid watcher of movies and reader of books, she frequently considers herself a ninja (especially around spiders), wishes that the owners of the beach house she loves would just give her the keys already, and really wants the car Kitt from Knight Rider to be tucked snugly inside her garage. She doesn't think he'd mind being painted blue.

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# Afterword

Follow my author page on Facebook! I'm currently posting excerpts and fun tidbits from my upcoming novels.

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Another way you can stay updated is through my newsletter list. I RARELY send out emails, so your inbox will definitely not be overrun. The link to sign up is here: Newsletter Sign Up

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Interested in continuing the story? Turn the page for an excerpt from _Dragon Ties,_ book **2** in _The Chronicles of Shadow and Light_ series.

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You can buy and download the book here: Dragon Ties

# 1. Loss

### Dragon Ties

She never slept that long, eternal night. Her father went into the Hall somewhere in the early pre-dawn hours, searching Nachal out, while she stayed where she was, looking out toward the vast ocean in front of her, and trying to find the courage and the will to leave this peaceful haven. The courage to leave the people that she loved. To leave the father that she had barely begun to know.

Wolf padded quietly over to her, and put his head on her lap. He stared out to sea with her. "How do you always know when I need you?" she asked, rubbing his ears.

He looked at her with his too-intelligent eyes, conveying with a single glance what he thought of her question. He knew because he was a White Alpine Wolf, and it was his job to take care of her, a member of the royal family. He also knew because he loved her.

His fur was soft against her hand. She let tufts of it run through her fingers, once again amazed by the silky texture. She smiled, already more at peace. How were animals able to do that? Perhaps it was only limited to Wolf. She speculated on that as she rubbed his ears, and then had to laugh when he closed his eyes in absolute bliss.

Perhaps another hour passed, she wasn't sure. Time seemed to hold little meaning. It just kept moving forward, never holding still like she wished it would. She startled a little when she sensed a presence beside her, and glanced around to find Liran sitting less than five feet away.

"How long have you been there?" she asked in surprise.

He stared at her for a moment, searching for something, before he answered quietly. "A while."

A while? How long was a while? "How is it possible for you to move so silently?" she asked him in frustration. How did he _do_ that? He moved like a ghost sometimes.

He shrugged. "You haven't learned to use your extra senses yet."

"My extra senses?"

He smiled his half-smile. "Your sense of smell, for one. Dragons have an acute sense of smell. No, it's more than acute. It's like another sense altogether. You should be able to smell me _long_ before I ever get close enough to touch you."

She looked away, remembering a recent conversation with her father about a dragon's sense of smell. "Cerralys told me that he had known my mother was pregnant with me because he could smell the new life within her."

He nodded. "Your senses have been dormant because you haven't been trying to use them. Don't worry. You'll figure it all out."

"What about flying?" Flying was a secret fear of hers. Not that she was afraid of heights. It was more that she feared failing at one of the only things that was inherently dragon by nature. She feared feeling like a fraud, and looking, once again, out of place and step with those around her.

His voice became a murmur. "It may take you a little time, but when you get it, you'll be amazing."

She shot him a look of surprise. "How do you know?" Her voice was almost hard in her fear.

He shrugged. "I just know."

She smiled tentatively, daring to hope that she wouldn't fail as spectacularly as she thought she might. "I wonder what color my scales will be?"

His lips quirked in humor. "I can tell you if you really want to know."

"You can't possibly know," she said with a laugh, looking at him. _Could he?_

He drew his body closer to hers, and leaned in to whisper in her ear as if he was sharing a secret of monumental proportions. " _Blue_."

She laughed, feeling a familiar warmth blossom inside of her from his nearness. She ignored it. " _Blue_ ," she breathed in excitement. "I haven't seen a blue dragon yet."

"Nor have I."

"You're sure?"

He smiled a secret smile, looking out over the sea. "I'm sure."

Her hand stilled on Wolf's cheek, and he bumped it gently with his nose, encouraging her to continue petting him. "I wish I could be as confident about certain things as you seem to be."

His answer came much more softly than before. "There are some things that are easy to be confident in, Auri. You will always be one of them."

Her hand over Wolf's ears stilled again, and she gazed searchingly at his face, but, as it had been the last handful of times that she had spent any time with him, his face was closed. Completely. She had to look away from him for a moment to get herself under control, trying in vain to dislodge the heavy feeling in her chest.

She _missed_ Liran. So much had changed between them, and so quickly. She missed the easy friendship that they'd had at the beginning. She missed the absence of walls. She missed her friend.

He had been avoiding her. She knew that he was, she just couldn't figure out why. Was it Nachal? Did he disapprove of her relationship with him? Did he disapprove of Nachal himself?

She felt Liran shift a little beside her, and she turned to gaze at him. "Eavesdropping is a bad habit," she remarked blandly.

His look was rueful. "I've been concerned about you," he said unrepentantly. "You haven't been sleeping much."

Her heart stuttered as she looked away. She had given up a long time ago trying to figure out how Liran knew certain things; he just seemed to know them. _Especially_ if those things involved her. She cut the thought short, not wanting to think about it too deeply. "I can't sleep," she whispered. "All I do is lay awake . . . remembering El`dell . . . remembering Valdys."

His hand touched hers lightly, and she felt a little spark of energy against her skin. He moved his hand, but looked at her with pain-filled eyes. "I'm so sorry that I wasn't there," he rasped.

She rubbed at the hand with her thumb and pointer finger absently, speaking softly. "Please don't, Liran. There wasn't any _time_. And besides, I didn't want any of you with me, putting your lives in any more danger than necessary."

"Except for the brute, of course."

"Wolf?"

His eyes glinted mischievously, but underneath their surface, there was something deeper lurking in their depths. Something hidden. "Who else would I mean?"

Wolf growled without opening his eyes, and she stifled a laugh. "Of course," she echoed with a smile.

She looked down at the hand she was still rubbing absently, and twisted it this way and that to see if there was some kind of physical mark on it. There wasn't. "What _was_ that?"

He smiled mischievously. "This?" He reached out to touch her arm, and a spark zinged against her skin again.

She scowled at him as she tried to smooth down the fine hairs that stood straight up all along the length of her arm. "What _is_ that? Is _lightning_ coming from your _fingertips_?"

His eyes glinted with laughter. "In a very small way, I suppose. Elves are able to absorb several different forms of Terradin's energy. In the case of lightning, we can harness a small portion of it inside of ourselves, and then use it to care for the lands." The laughter in his eyes spread to his lips. "As well as other things."

Her eyes widened. "That lightning storm a few days ago . . ."

He chuckled as he jolted her again, and she pushed him away, scowling. Wolf growled, looking up at Liran in warning. She patted his head to mollify him. "It's alright, Wolf. You know he's only teasing." She turned to Liran. "Can you teach me to do that?"

He sobered instantly. His voice went quiet. "I don't know if _you_ _can_. Most elves are only able to draw a little power in, lest they risk a serious unbalance within themselves. The very strong, such as the queen, are able to draw more. I'm not sure if your dragon half would block the drawing ability and capacity, or amplify it."

"Would amplifying it be dangerous?"

He shrugged. "If your form cannot hold it in, yes. You're no doubt a little physically stronger than the average elf, though, so I'm unsure."

She shook her head. It was swimming a bit. Every piece of new information seemed like it was for someone else, because it _couldn't_ be about her. The thought of flying, of shooting fire out of her mouth, absorbing energy . . . These all seemed like children's stories. They just couldn't be real.

"They're real," Liran murmured. "Give it some time, Auri. You're dealing with a lot right now."

She didn't reprimand him again for eavesdropping. Instead, her thoughts immediately drifted back to that night on the plains. She became so lost in remembering, that it was a while before she noticed how absolutely still Liran had become. Like he had become the antithesis of sound and movement.

_Oh_.

She squeezed her eyes shut in self-recrimination. In the weeks since Valdys's death, she had been very careful about her thoughts around Liran. She sensed how much it hurt him that he hadn't been there to protect her, how much it hurt him that she returned broken in her father's arms, and she didn't for the world want to make his pain worse. And now . . . now it was too late. For one brief moment, she had let the memories surface, and he had snatched them from her mind. Just as she feared would happen.

She unclenched her eyes, and turned slowly to face him.

His skin had gone as pale as wax, and his eyes were like golden-amber flecks of flame. He continued to hold himself very still. Painfully still. "I'm sorry, Liran. I forgot . . ." She let the sentence trail off. What could she say? That she had forgotten that she was trying to protect him and keep the images from that night out of his mind?

He closed his eyes, remaining silent. He looked like he was fighting for control. The only emotion he was allowing her to sense from him was anger. Or perhaps, that was the one emotion that was too strong for him to contain. "Liran?" She touched his hand briefly, then withdrew it. "I'm sorry. I've been trying to . . . make sure that you didn't see that. I just . . . I'm sorry."

He began speaking stiffly with his eyes still closed. "The Luminari want me to find The Lost Ones, Auri. Do you know who they are?"

She blinked at the sudden shift in conversation. "No. I'd never heard of them until earlier."

His eyes opened, and she wanted to flinch away at the blatant pain in them. She had caused that. Her thoughtlessness had caused that.

"The Lost Ones are the dragons that never chose. When the war broke out, The Lost Ones refused to fight, and then disappeared. They've been gone ever since."

"That's why the name."

Liran nodded slowly. "Yes. It affected the elves when we lost so many, when we lost your mother. Something that had been strong and fluid became suddenly brittle to the point of breaking. Our cohesion as a people is part of our strength, and so it is with the dragons. When The Lost Ones disappeared, they lost part of their strength, their cohesion, and they need it back desperately if they are to have a chance at defeating The Rebels."

Auri nodded. "The Rebels," she whispered. "I think only other races must call them that."

"What does your father call them?" Liran asked softly.

"Family. To the Luminari and those that have chosen to side with the king, they are still their family, no matter their crimes. Love and memories do not wither for them. The memories can change, becoming something less painful in time, but for most of them . . . still . . . there is a deep rent, a hole that cannot be fixed."

"I'm so sorry," Liran whispered.

"I never realized how much is instinctual with dragons. With _me_. I must have known, deep down. Valdys remarked upon it when I left. He hid certain information from me, information about The Rebels, because he said that he didn't want it to hurt me." She turned to him. "I never understood why it affected me so deeply. I guess now I know."

Liran nodded, drawing in a deep breath as he seemed to search for the right words to say. "The reason," he began gently, "that I mentioned them, is because I wanted you to understand the reason I've chosen to accept this assignment."

She touched her hand to his briefly, before withdrawing it. "It's a search for hope, Liran. I understand."

His eyes studied hers for a long while before he murmured quietly, "No, I don't think that you do." He leaned over and kissed her cheek lightly, then stood and walked away in the direction of The Hall. She turned and watched him go, thinking about his reasons, and how they, in the end, didn't do anything to blunt the sudden, overwhelming feeling of loss that felt like it was swallowing her whole.

# 2. Shifted

### Dragon Ties

One hour before dawn, she rose and went searching for her father.

It was almost time. . . .

She found him in his study, still speaking with Nachal. Their conversation stopped abruptly when she opened the door. "Sorry," she said quietly, looking at her father. "I just wanted a few minutes with you before we leave."

He nodded as Nachal rose slowly from the chair and came over to stand in front of her. "Don't be stubborn," he said with a sigh. Then he kissed her cheek, and shut the door softly.

She turned to her father in confusion. "Am I really that stubborn?" she asked him with a frown.

He laughed, and all of the shadows fled from his countenance. She couldn't help but smile in return. "I'm afraid he's speaking of something specific, dear, not merely general stubbornness." He was quiet for a moment, studying her, before he announced with brevity, "Nachal has asked that he be withdrawn as my heir, and that he be withdrawn as next in line for the crown."

She gasped, collapsing down hard into the nearest chair. "He _what!_?"

Cerralys gave her a pained smile. "He doesn't want to take your inheritance from you, Auri, and he doesn't want you to feel as though you must share it either. He's asked to be completely withdrawn, even going so far as to suggest that he should bunk in the barracks with the rest of the soldiers."

"Ridiculous," she said, sitting up and scowling. "I can't be your heir because I . . . and he . . . and I. Well it's just better for _him_ to." She sighed, and tried to forge ahead despite her lack of articulation. "Besides, there's plenty of room for everyone here. We even have enough room to move the barracks in _The Hall_ if we wanted to!"

Cerralys sat back in his chair, his face sober. "Because you what, dear?"

She frowned. This wasn't going at all like she had wanted it to. "Well obviously, because I am who I am, an elf, and he is who he is, a prince. His intelligence and the way everyone jumps to obey him, not because he's a tyrant, but because he has their respect, makes him a natural-born leader, and the most logical choice. It's obvious that you've been grooming him to take over for you once you . . ." She floundered for a moment at that cold thought, then drew in a breath and tried to bravely forge ahead. "Well, he's obviously the better choice."

Her father's eyes had softened at her words, and he studied her in silence for many long moments before he spoke again. "I agree with you regarding where he sleeps." He sat forward in his chair, seeming to literally hold her in place with the sudden intensity of his eyes. "However," he said with resolve, "I agree with _him_ about the change of my heir. I believe that it is you that Eldaria and Terradin needs on the throne."

She slumped back into her chair, completely dazed. "Are you completely mad?" she finally managed.

His eyes twinkled. "Perhaps," he allowed.

She raised a shaky hand to brush her hair away from her face, then got up abruptly to begin pacing the room. What was it that she had just been daydreaming about the other day? A simple life here with her father? She laughed. It sounded choked, and slightly hysterical, but it was still a laugh.

The king was suddenly standing in front of her. He halted her frantic pacing by placing his warm hands atop her shoulders. His voice was gentle. "You will find, my child that you will become equal to the tasks before you, whatever they may be."

What could she possibly say to that?

"Thank you for your confidence in me," she said faintly, her voice wry. "I still think you're losing your hold on reality though."

He chuckled and enveloped her with his warm arms. "I love you, Auri."

"I love you too."

When he pulled away, she could see the strain of the last few months' events etched deeply in the lines of his face. She kissed his cheek. "Stay safe, Cerralys. Please? I've lost so many. I couldn't bear to lose you too."

"Nor I you. I will do my best."

"Stephen will look after you. He promised me."

Cerralys chuckled. "Then all will be well."

Quiet, as they stared at one another. "It's time," she whispered, as the first faint blush of pink sunrise washed through the study window, and splashed against his desk and face.

"It's time," he whispered. The room went quiet again, and then he smiled and kissed her forehead. "Gather your traveling companions," he said, heading for the door. "I'll gather the doubles."

Auri stood rooted to the spot for a few endless minutes. She felt like her heart was ripping in two as she finally left the study, shutting the door behind her.

They made a very public appearance on the cliff above the water. All four of them stood there for a few minutes. Long enough for any spies to note who they were, and that they were alone. Then they turned as one, and walked down to the main hall, entering the huge doors somberly.

A few minutes later, four emerged again, with Wolf bringing up the rear. Their cloaks shadowed their faces. One of them was slight of build, and had raven hair escaping into the wind.

They met the armed men waiting for them at the raised portcullis, and then they advanced forward, marching steadily down the cliff to the forest below as though heading to war.

The path that the real four chose to take was much more treacherous, almost a sheer cliff, with no path whatsoever winding down the side of it. Every few feet there were little divots in the rock, large enough to get a hand or foot in, but little else. They used these to make the long, silent trip down to the bottom.

Auri focused single-mindedly on her task, emptying her mind completely of what she was leaving behind, and trying to find the next spot to put her hands and feet. She had climbed a few things before—trees and such in her childhood—but nothing of this magnitude. The sheer face of the rock was almost entirely straight up and down. There were no doubts about what would happen if any of them fell.

Nachal had started the decent first, with Dhurmic following. She was third, and Liran was above her. She looked up at him and scowled darkly. He looked as calm and composed as if he were merely taking a pleasant moonlit stroll, with a slight breeze rustling through the trees, and birds chirping in the soft mist. He saw her scowl, and the corners of his mouth drew up in the slightest of smiles. His eyes were definitely laughing at her. Laughing, but not mocking. She appreciated the difference.

She started mumbling under her breath as she stretched her arm to reach for the next handhold. A handhold that didn't seem to _be_ there. Her face ground into the rock painfully as she tried to stretch her fingertips to go even further. She winced as she knocked some pebbles off the ledge and they tumbled down onto Dhurmic. Dwarven growling and muttering followed. She would have laughed if her face weren't so busy getting smashed into the rock. As it was, she was barely breathing lest she disturb anything too deeply. Best to be safe.

She closed her eyes, adjusted her footing so that she was balancing on the very tips of her toes, and _reached_. A strong hand briefly caught hers, guided it to the divot that she had been searching for, and then was gone before her eyes could even flash open in surprise. Liran. He had done it again! How did he get so close to her without her hearing him!

"Thank you," she said, already searching for the next handhold. Liran nodded as he took the lead, showing her by example where to put her feet and hands, and keeping his pace exactly even with her own. She followed him carefully.

It took them most of the morning to get down. When the shaded greenery of the forest enveloped them, she breathed a sigh of relief. Liran gently grabbed her arm and led her a few paces away from the others, letting them continue without them for a moment.

She swallowed. It was time for them to go their separate ways, but she didn't know how she could say goodbye. There were no guarantees. In Terradin, with the way things were, and with the way things were heading, none ever knew at parting if they would see each other again.

He looked at her intently with his golden-amber eyes, and released the hand that held her elbow down to his side. She watched it slowly clench into a fist, and her heart started pounding. She swallowed again, her mouth refusing to say the words. In the end, she found that she couldn't. Not again. She had no more words for painful goodbyes.

He nodded curtly, as if he heard the feelings choking her heart, and spun away from her, moving quickly into the dense, green canopy.

The air suddenly started pulling into her lungs dizzyingly fast, making her head spin. Her feet moved forward without conscious thought.

"Liran?" she said, a plea in her voice.

He stopped dead, and she stumbled to an ungraceful halt behind him. She reached a hesitant hand up to touch his shoulder. As his muscles went rigid beneath her palm, she swallowed again. _What?_ She wanted to say something, but she didn't know what it was. The words wouldn't come to her lips, to her mind. She had become mute, incapable of speaking. She could only stand there with her hand on his shoulder, waiting helplessly for him to say something. Only he didn't. He stood stone still for another moment, and then a shudder passed through him before he spun around blindingly fast, startling her.

One hand shot out—again, blindingly fast—to the back of her head, where it gripped firmly. She blinked, and then his mouth covered hers, fiercely and possessively. She reached out and clutched his shirt for balance as her whole entire world shifted and spun beneath her.

He finally pulled away with a groan and rested his forehead on hers. His breathing was fast and ragged. She was startled to realize that hers was too. "I can't," he whispered in an agonized voice. "I tried so hard . . . I tried so hard not to need you, to stay away from you." His eyes burned into her, the color of liquid, molten fire. "I'm sorry," he ground out in a raspy whisper. Then he kissed her again, hard and consuming, making his indelible mark upon her forever.

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. The barest swish of leaves was the only sign of his passing.

Later that night, Wolf caught up with her. He appeared suddenly, almost like a phantom in the dark night. He scooted on his belly over to her beside the fire, and laid his head down onto her stomach. His eyes were troubled and watchful, his coat warm and slightly damp with sweat. She looked over at the others. Dhurmic was snoring ten feet away from her, and Nachal . . . Nachal was missing from his bedroll.

"I don't suppose you could tell me if the doubles worked?" she asked Wolf idly, rubbing the tufts of fur over his eyes. "Though the fact that we haven't been attacked probably means that they did."

Wolf whined softly, his eyes troubled.

Auri sighed. Her hands stilled. "Did you see Nachal on your way here?" He gazed at her steadily. "No?" she sighed again. "He left several hours back. I can't feel him anymore, and that worries me."

After several more minutes of listening to Dhurmic's snores, she sat up. "I need to walk," she announced quietly. "Want to come with me?"

Wolf rose quickly to all fours, and followed behind her as she left the clearing. After several minutes, she found herself standing beside a small, shallow stream. Wolf sat back on his haunches beside her, looking up at her instead of at the water. It seemed like he was waiting for something. Some cue from her. Some command.

The thought came faintly at first, slowly, and then more forcefully―she needed to go find Liran. If she hurried, she might be able to catch up with him and be back by the next evening. She knelt down beside Wolf. "I need to go see Liran. Why don't you stay here with Nachal and Dhurmic? You've been running all day."

He whined in protest. She sighed and hugged him, then got up and started to move away. The sound of fabric ripping and a short tug on her shirt stopped her in her tracks. She turned, looking down in disbelief at the piece of her shirt that Wolf had just spat out onto the ground.

"I just need to see him briefly," she explained in a low, cajoling voice. "I'll be back by tomorrow night."

He ignored her, caught part of her pant leg between his sharp teeth, and started tugging backward until she lost her balance and staggered toward him. She swatted him away in irritation. "I'll be _fine_ ," she huffed, trying to loosen his hold on her pants without ripping them. They wrestled for a few minutes. Obviously, Wolf won. She yelped when he nipped her finger. Not hard enough to draw blood, just hard enough to get her attention.

"You bit me!" she accused incredulously, holding her finger gingerly with her other hand. Wolf frowned at her, and snuffed out a blast of air in protest. "Alright," she amended with a slight smile. "Maybe _bit_ isn't completely accurate, but your teeth _did_ leave marks on my finger." She held her finger out for him to see them. He snorted another blast of air through his nostrils, making her laugh quietly. Her laughter trailed away into silence as her thoughts came back to Liran, and she sighed, closing her eyes against the sudden surge of pain.

"You're right," she whispered. "It would only make it worse if I saw him right now." She sat down on the bank, and brought her knees up to her chest, gazing unseeingly over the water. "This hurts so much. I feel like I'm being ripped in two."

Wolf put his head against her legs, and she looked down at his sad, ice-blue eyes. "I love them both," she whispered. Her head dropped to her bent knees, her eyes closed, and tears trickled down her cheeks. Thoughts and memories of both Nachal and Liran ran through her mind, making the tears fall harder.

She reached out in desperation with her senses as Liran had taught her, and immediately the memories bombarding her tumbled to a standstill. Her thoughts became focused and clear. Her mind expanded, drinking in the calm of the night like a desert flower, until only one thought remained―Liran's life.

Wolf watched her, expectant and waiting. She reached out and cradled his face with both hands. "I need him safe, Wolf. Can you keep him safe for me?" Her eyes pleaded with his cool blue ones for help. She knew that Wolf was _her_ protector, but he was also her friend, and she hoped that he understood that what she needed most in the world right now was the knowledge that Liran would be kept safe until she could see him again. "Please?" she begged.

He sighed—a sound that was so human—and rose to his haunches, staring intently at her face. Suddenly, he leaned his body forward so that his muzzle grazed her neck, and gathered up her scent, inhaling deeply, then he licked her cheek, and bounded away silently into the forest.

"Goodbye, my friend," Auri whispered into the emptiness.
