 
### Raven's Hand

### Raven's Chronicle

Book One

by

James Somers

www.jamessomers.blogspot.com

Kindle Edition

James Somers © 2015

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be reproduced in any way in any format, except by express permission of the author. All characters and events contained herein are the work of this author and may not be used in another work without permission of the author.

"...And He shall knit them together, blood and blade and bone, so that only death may tear them asunder." — Eliam's Chronicle, Prophecy of the Daughters of Light 10:23

### Questions are Dangerous Things

A line of white fire burned diagonally across my back from my right shoulder down to my left buttock. My breath hissed out through gritted teeth. I struggled to hold back the scream of pain trying to usher forth. Balled fists and white knuckles bunched my silken robe around my breasts, leaving my backside completely exposed to the implement in Mistress Evelyn's hand.

My legs were tucked beneath me, as I faced my bedchamber alone. Mistress Evelyn sighed heavily behind me. She meant to teach me a lesson I should have learned long ago. Still, I couldn't help it that I had questions.

They buzzed among my thoughts like mosquitoes, pestering me with insecurities. I should not have asked. All my life I had been instructed to believe my superiors and accept the laws. I knew the truth—obedience and subservience brings peace and tranquility. Questioning the laws brought only pain.

"Such beautiful skin," she remarked. "You are so very young and foolish, Raven. Do you not realize the privilege afforded you—the opportunity to bond with a great house?"

I did not speak back to her. To do so would have only brought her stern rebuke and more lashes. Part of my robe was pressed against my lips, holding back my gasps of pain. My back was on fire. No doubt, bloody lacerations crisscrossed my pale skin. With each breath, I felt my wounds expanding and contracting. Every movement caused me to shudder in agony. Hot tears fell across my cheeks onto the folds of my robe.

I could feel her steps as she tread a leisurely pace around me, coming to pause before me. Her slippers clicked upon the flagstones of my room. The jewels upon them caught the firelight. Their glinting seemed to mock me like whispering schoolgirls.

I shielded my nudity with my crimson robe, despite the fact that Mistress Evelyn had inspected my body for imperfections many times. It was her duty as the matriarch of her great house to see that her sons only bonded to the finest specimens available to them. She had only ever considered me to be adequate. I never knew if this was the truth, or if she merely said so because a mother never feels any woman is good enough for her son.

I felt ashamed for having provoked her displeasure. I should have known better. My matron would also hear of this—the woman in charge of my care and learning. Hannah would not be pleased that Mistress Evelyn was inconvenienced by the need to punish my insolence. I had imposed myself upon the lady during her visit and might feel another lashing before all was said and done in this matter.

"Honestly, you seemed so promising," Evelyn continued. "Your beauty is quite incomparable. Nathan would have been quite taken with you, I'm sure. But how can I choose you when these _questions_ persist? You force me to choose another."

My eyes opened, but I kept my face downcast. Still, I could see her in my peripheral vision. This was the first real compliment I'd received, and that in the middle of a rebuke. Still, because I felt a need for her approval, it did briefly pull my attention from the pain.

Her intricately crafted, silver wand flashed with reflected light as her hand moved back and forth at her side. This was the implement used to cause me so much pain. A simple wave and focus of thought allowed the wand to open my flesh in surgical lacerations.

"I can only hope that your matron can recommend a suitable replacement," Evelyn mused in her annoyance.

At last, she replaced the silver wand into a specially made sleeve at her wrist. The implement of my torture disappeared neatly inside her gown. She was dressed already for the dinner prepared in her honor upon this visit. Tomorrow morning she would return to House Rainier, and my opportunity as the chosen bond for her eldest son would come to an end.

"You may heal your wounds now," she said. "Raven, I hope you think on what you have done."

Evelyn turned toward the door. Whispering a word of command, the darkly stained wooden door opened for her. She glided from my room as gracefully as an eagle in flight. The door closed soon after her departure.

I remained, kneeling upon the floor. I began the process of healing my lacerations. My eyes were closed as I concentrated. I flinched as the power flowed through me, finding the separated edges of the wounds. The power cared no more for my agony than Mistress Evelyn did. It only knew that my body had been damaged and needed repair. To this task it went immediately to work, bringing the skin together.

I had control. I had set it to do its work, but it knew how the work must be accomplished better than I. The power sought to restore the balance, the wholeness of my body. Unfortunately, the mending could be nearly as unsettling as the tearing. Mistress Evelyn's punishment would therefore continue, even after she had left the room.

It seemed to me a perplexing thing—a strange situation to be so valued a person by the great houses and, yet, I was no more than a slave. I was raised as property. My ability was cultivated for the use of my future husband, my bond. Only, I supposed I had just ruined all of that.

We Bright Ladies belonged to a long line of slaves who were put upon the world—upon Titan—for this purpose. We became the power of the great houses, the means by which each heir inherited the authority and strength to rule his kingdom. I do not deny that it is a great purpose. I felt grateful. At least, I tried to feel grateful. Sometimes—like then, when my flesh burned like fire upon my slight frame—it was difficult to hold on to that emotion.

I shuddered as another laceration began to knit together. I tried not to move too much while the power was working to mend my wounds. The skin was tight and could tear again—never enjoyable. Not until it was completely whole could I relax and allow tension on it again.

I suppose there were worse fates a person could have. After all, I had received the finest education. I lived in rooms filled with items of luxury. Had I been allowed to complete the bond with Rainier's prince, Nathan, I would have lived always in opulence for the remainder of my days.

Yet, my will was never my own. I had never known true freedom. Every place I went had to be allowed by my matron. The company I kept was prescribed. Even my few friends were determined without my consent. All this so I could be molded into the Bright Lady a great house heir would desire to have as his bond.

The last of my lacerations sealed, and the power faded once more. Its job complete, it retreated to the place deep within me where I drew from. It would be difficult to explain where this power resides.

I understood my place. As a Daughter of Eliam, I was placed here for Titan's kings. I was given to complete them—a conduit through which dominion could be bestowed over Eliam's Creation. We were imbued with these abilities—to tap into the lower orders of Creation—so that kings might reign. Each bond makes two individuals into one. At least, in the metaphysical sense, that is.

I had been taught that, millennia ago, the Malkind overthrew Eliam and took control of our world, establishing the great houses from their human worshippers, giving them power and dominion. Part of their victory was the assurance by Eliam that his daughters would serve as the link between the followers of the Malkind and Eliam's Creation. In order to know our full power we had to be bonded. In order for the kings to reign and the balance between houses to be preserved, the heirs had to be bonded.

It was from these teachings that so many of my questions had arisen. However, we were not allowed to hesitate upon these precepts. They had to be accepted. Despite my wonderings, I had no choice in the matter.

I pulled my silk robe around my shoulders, tying it in the front as I stood. Turning, I noticed that blood had gathered on the rug where I was punished. The matron would not like to see it. I fixed it with my gaze and watched as the color leeched out, so that the stain became invisible. That would do; at least until I had the opportunity to clean the spot by hand.

Someone knocked upon the door—a light two taps and then three heavier. I smiled, realizing Celia had come to me. She was the next in line behind me in our ward, but still two years away from completing her training. At fifteen years of age, she was becoming a young woman, though her tendencies were still very immature in my opinion. She could be quite silly at times; at least when the matron was not around.

Celia was my one true friend in the ward. She had been ever since she came under my tutelage. Since I was her senior by two years, I had the privilege of passing on my learning to her. In this way, one matron could look after the entire ward without so much distraction. The elders, like me, taught the younger until we were sent away to a great house, like Rainier, to become the bond to a prince.

"Open please," I said to the door.

The door complied, swinging open quietly on well-oiled hinges to reveal Celia standing anxiously beyond the threshold. The nervous line of her mouth creased into a bright smile when she saw that I was standing. She had assumed, because I had not cried out, that my wounds were minimal. Though she was incorrect, I did not want to distress her by revealing how bad they actually were. I had become adept over the years at healing my wounds quickly and quietly.

Celia flowed into the room in her gown of deep blue. Only her girlish manner, hastening eagerly across the room to my side, betrayed immaturity. She had been taught better and she performed better before the matron and the ladies of great houses. It was only her anxiety for me that caused her to drop her poise now.

The door closed itself, once Celia came inside.

"Raven, I was so worried for you," she said. "Mistress Evelyn looked so cross when she came out of your room. Matron Hannah was ringing her hands while the Lady was in here with you. I was also, though I did not show it before Hannah. Did the mistress not stripe you?"

I laid my hand gently upon her shoulder. "Do not worry yourself," I replied.

"Oh, but the mistress looked very cross."

"She was," I replied, "and she did."

Celia understood my meaning, her hands coming to her mouth. "But you're standing," she said. "I should get salve for the wounds. Are they not terribly painful?"

"They were," I said, "but I have mended them already."

"I'm so sorry, Raven," she said, trying to be careful not to brush across my back, despite my reassurances. "You are very clever. I do not know how you can heal them so quickly. Mistress Evelyn came to the sitting room only a moment ago, and you are already whole again."

I smiled for Celia's sake. I didn't want her to concern herself so much. She could become agitated so easily. It was a characteristic I had tried to train out of her, but without success. Time and experience would do a better job, I was sure.

However, Celia was more timid than I. She had never been forced to undergo such a punishment. If only I could have learned better to be like her in this way. I had been striped quite a few times, unfortunately. I had learned what pain my obstinacy could cause.

I walked to my four poster bed, gliding with as much grace as I could muster. My wounds were whole again, but only time would remove the dull ache left behind. Celia followed after, her hands fidgeting to reach for me should I suddenly collapse. She must have known that I was weaker than I pretended.

I found the bed terribly comfortable when I lay down upon it. Much of the weight felt by my time with Mistress Evelyn lifted as I stretched upon the plush, crimson duvet. A matching canopy of silk hung from the massive bed frame like ivy.

"Can I do anything for you?" Celia asked, standing next to the bed. "I could have Pricilla come to give you a rubdown. That might make you feel better."

"Honestly, Celia, I'm fine. I just want to rest for a while before dinner."

Celia grinned at this. "You're going to see _him_ , aren't you?"

I closed my eyes. "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Celia hopped onto the bed beside me, her gown ruffling indignantly. "Oh yes, you do," she said. "You know exactly."

I opened my eyes, but said nothing.

Celia placed the back of one hand against her forehead, pretending to swoon. She fell back onto the bed beside me with a muffled thump upon the duvet. "Oh, my handsome prince," she said. "Take me away from all of this."

I propped myself upon one elbow in mock indignation. "I never said he was a prince," I protested.

Still swooning, she said, "Oh, my handsome _plumber_!"

We laughed together at this.

"It would be easier if you knew his name," Celia observed.

"It's a dream," I replied. "How can I know his name?"

Celia laughed. "Well, have you asked him?"

"Of course not, silly," I said. "Besides, what difference would it make? He's not real."

"Oh, that doesn't matter," Celia protested. "At least, you have fun in your dreams. Mine are so terribly boring. I can never remember them, anyway."

"I cannot forget mine," I replied wistfully.

Celia smiled, placing a hand upon my cheek. "Then go to your prince, or whoever he is, while there is time before dinner. I shall come to wake you."

We grinned at each other, and then she scooted off the edge of the bed. The door opened before her. She turned before exiting, whispering conspiratorially, "Give him a kiss for me, and don't forget to ask his name."

Celia resumed her composure before leaving the room, aware that she might happen upon the matron at any moment. Hannah always seemed to be where you least expected her, and she was always watching for breaches of decorum in her charges. We did our best to always be mindful of her stern looks. The door closed, after Celia crossed the threshold.

I sighed, pulling the duvet from the end of the bed to cover me. When I woke, it would be that much easier to put back in place, so that it would not appear I was sleeping. After all, Mistress Hannah might not like it that I had failed to properly reflect upon my misdeeds today.

I watched the hearth and the logs stacked upon the grate. Smoke began to issue from pores in the wood as I commanded the elements with my thoughts. Heat built for nearly a minute before the flame finally kindled. Yet, when it did kindle, all of the wood was suddenly ablaze.

The room was warm enough already. I only created the fire in the hearth in order to push myself over the edge into exhaustion and sleep. It made for a fine exercise of my control over the power, but I had ulterior motives.

When I relinquished control over the heat, fatigue assaulted me, as I knew it would. My eyes closed, and my body relaxed until I no longer had any thought of my surroundings. Sleep had come as my comforter, and the man of my dreams would not be far behind.

### What Dreams May Come

Mistress Evelyn rounded upon me in my room. Her features were crone-like now—elongated nose, warts, arthritic, bony fingers with long, misshapen nails. Some of her teeth were blackened and others broken and jagged. Her skin was wrinkled, and the woman was wearing far too much makeup to be considered proper for a lady of her status. I realized this caricature was woefully inaccurate, but the mind does what it will in dreams and I did not care. After all, I had come to think of her in this way—at least subconsciously.

"Disrobe, you wretched girl," she demanded.

I stood before the hearth in my room in a robe of blue. I pulled the garment from my shoulders and dropped my arms at my side, allowing the robe to slide down and off my body to the floor. I was naked before the crone. My pale bare skin was unblemished, but I knew what was coming.

Evelyn whipped her wand from the sleeve of her dress where it was kept. However, this wand was not the elegant expertly crafted kind handed down to the great houses by the Malkind. This wand was made from a twisted tree branch, as gnarled and bony as the fingers that now wielded it.

I stood before the crone, trembling in anticipation of the pain she would inflict upon me. She seethed with anger, standing hunched upon the flagstones, amber firelight casting monstrous shadows upon the wall behind her. I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst.

The wand whipped the air and a line of fire raked my bare skin. I shuddered and very nearly cried out. Still, I managed to hold in my agony. Again and again, the wand cut the air and a corresponding energy lashed my skin. Evelyn laughed as she marked my body with welts and lacerations, over and over again.

By the time she had finished and the cackling stopped, I was on my knees lying prostrate upon the floor. I had been reduced to a quivering mound of flesh. Blood poured from my wounds onto the carpet around me. Where I was once beautiful; now I was marred and horrid. My body ached and burned, but Evelyn the crone had no sympathy for me.

Her cackling died away and I believed myself to be alone. Then silk slid over my back and up over my shoulders. Strong hands wrapped me up in a sheet, gripping my shoulders tightly in order to help me back to my feet. A warm baritone voice—his voice—resounded in my ears, speaking comfort. I did not know the exact words—for some reason they escaped me—but I was glad to hear the voice.

Normally, I would have been ashamed of my condition. I would have been horrified to be found unclothed before any man. Yet, I didn't feel this way with him. He did not look upon me with lust, but with compassion. I rose to my feet beneath the silken sheet, while he supported me.

When I raised my eyes to behold him, the sheet came away and the scene changed with the suddenness only a dream can produce. Of course, I was not surprised. Everything that happens in dreams appears completely normal at the time.

I was now standing in the middle of a grand ballroom. My skin was whole again and covered in rich satin fabric dyed in deep reds and purples with gold filigree. The gown was strapless and hugged my body, flaring at the waist down to the floor in a cascade of frills covered by dark lace. Black lace gloves covered my hands and a matching masquerade mask covered my eyes. My dark hair fell in loose curls around my shoulders, and flecks of gold on my skin caught the light from chandeliers.

The ballroom was constructed of dark woods and parquet floors. Chandeliers hung suspended in the air because there was no ceiling at all—only the stars shining down from above. Fireflies flitted among the dancers, blinking in time with elegant music playing without any musicians that could be seen.

Around me, dancers whirled and spun. Each young man had his lady in his arms. All of the pairs moved in concert—stately couples whose apparel complimented one another flawlessly. These moved around me in a ceaseless dance, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the ballroom.

Then I saw him.

He appeared at the entrance to the room, but there was no herald present to announce his arrival. He did not need any introduction. He had come for me and me alone. Each and every finely dressed lady was accompanied already—everyone but me.

His outfit complimented mine perfectly. His jacket was dyed in deep red and his vest in dark purple. His black pants were knee length with hose below and leather shoes with shiny gold buckles to match the gold buttons on his jacket. He wore a mask also, but I knew it was him. I could feel the heat from his body. I could sense his presence in the room. Even blind, I would have still known he was there.

The music continued unabated, as he walked toward me. I blushed behind my mask, suddenly self conscious. His stare penetrated my very being. The room seemed to be getting hotter, but I didn't mind. It was as though lightning passed between us across the room. Every step closer caused my heart to race faster.

Suddenly, he was upon me, taking my hands in his to kiss each one delicately. A tingling raced along my skin. He pulled me to him as a new dance began. The nearness of him, the smell, the warmth of his touch—I felt faint one moment and more alert than ever the next. Being with him felt like coming alive.

We had not said a single word. Yet, it was as though words might spoil our moment. What could we say that would make this more than what it already was? How could this feeling have grown any stronger?

The music played on, but the other dancers paused to watch us together. They whispered and nodded to themselves, approving of our match. They longed to know the desire for one another that we experienced. But how could they ever attain to it?

Our bodies glided in perfect harmony, accentuating each other's every movement. We were complete together, but nothing apart. The most heinous act would have been to sever the ties that bound us at that moment.

We lifted above the others now, as though gravity no longer had dominion. Our dance continued, even though the floor had fallen away beneath us. The stars illuminated us. The wind carried us like feathers on a breeze.

When I looked into his eyes, I knew I was complete. I was his and he was mine. It could never be any other way.

Then a bell tolled.

The heavens began to evaporate like steam in the air. We came back to the world. The music became a dissonant minor version of itself. As the bell tolled again, the ballroom walls cracked. The structure crumbled around us.

He was pulled away from me by the crowd of people trying to escape the end of our dream world. He fought to hang on to me, but we were powerless to stop the tide. I called to him, knowing he would be taken from me as he had been so many times before. I remembered Celia's admonition.

I had never done so before, but I cried out to him. "What is your name?"

I heard his voice. It was like honey in my ears. He was not fearful of our separation, but confident because he knew we would be together again in due time.

The name hung between us, connecting us like a chain even when the fantasy became dust on the wind. I woke in my bedchamber still covered with the crimson duvet on my bed. I woke on my own. Celia had not come yet.

In a moment of muddled uncertainty, I checked my surroundings, wanting to be sure Mistress Evelyn had not returned to find me sleeping after her punishment. There was no one else in the room. Only the fire burning in the grate made any sound at all.

I remembered my dream and smiled. I had done what Celia bid me to do. For the first time, I had spoken to him. I asked him his name and he gave it to me. I had no idea what to make of the experience, but I would hold to that name like a treasure in my heart.

I closed my eyes and spoke it in a whisper. "Killian."

### Farewell to Arms

Using a burin with precision and care, the bladesmith etched a final rune into the blade. He lifted the tool from the steel, blowing away filaments of metal. He smiled. His work on this weapon was now complete, although a final step remained before it could be presented to His Highness, Lord Rainier.

The bladesmith was tall and broad-shouldered; a strong man and middle-aged with a full head of dark hair showing only a little gray. His fingers worked nimbly with the tools of his trade. He laid the graver on his work table, feeling very satisfied with the finished product.

The king had commissioned this pattern-welded blade six months ago, desiring that it be ready one week from now; in time for his eldest son's coronation. The high prince would succeed his father, due to the king's failing health. A strong ruler was required to sit upon the throne; especially during times like these when a war among the great houses was all but inevitable.

The other houses saw the king's failing health as an opportunity. If they were careful and seized the appropriate time to act, they might be able to take the throne from House Rainier. As of that day, House Rainier had held onto the throne for eighty three years. They had fought to keep it so on three separate occasions: once when House Auturn sought to destabilize House Rainier fifty years before, and twice when Houses Japheh and Rollace battled Rainier in consecutive conflicts twenty-two years before.

The bladesmith wiped the debris from the sword and then began to apply polish to the blade with a rag. He had left the work on the scabbard to his only son and apprentice in the trade. He buffed the polish away with a dry cloth and held it up in the firelight of his forge. Red-orange flames reflected in the forged steel.

He smiled and then called to his son, working in another part of his shop. "Killian!"

A moment later, a handsome young man of nineteen years, with dark hair and broad shoulders, peeked around the corner where his father was working. "Yes, Father?" he said. Then, seeing his father holding the blade in the light, he exclaimed, "Oh, you've finished the last of the runes already?"

"Aye, and a better weapon I've never forged," he replied proudly. He handed the weapon to Killian. "What do you think, lad?"

Killian took the sword in hand, hefting it for weight and then balancing the weapon midway on the back of his thumb. "It's perfect, Father."

Turning, Killian stepped away from his father's work table, giving himself room. He swung the blade in fluid motions, his maneuvers becoming more and more complicated. The hilt was slightly curved so that the pommel came down around the fourth finger and was fashioned of polished ebony. The steel was made with a single razor sharp edge, curving slightly up to a point. Black leather cord, tightly wrapped, gave the hilt a supple feel that gripped the hand as he moved and would keep it from slipping when the new king's hand became sweaty or stained with blood.

The polished steel whirled around Killian, the air whistling with its passing. "It feels so light," he remarked, halting his exercise to return the weapon to his Father.

His father held up a hand. "Have you finished the scabbard?"

Killian smiled, his dark eyes twinkling in the firelight. "I was up last night finishing it."

"Good lad," his father replied. "Then you might as well hold on to the sword. I need you to take it to Shalindra to be blessed."

"Really?" Killian asked, "But you usually don't let me go to the priestess."

"Ask him, why now?" said a fair woman with auburn locks falling around her shoulders, entering the workshop behind Killian.

"It doesn't matter why," his father retorted. "Your mother's just having a go at me, that's all."

Killian's mother came to stand beside her husband with a smirk on her face. "Don't you believe him," she said playfully. "Last time he had to go to the temple—"

"With the shield for the High Prince?"

"That's the one," she said. "Well, he stayed up all evening prior to leaving, eating my Dragon Fire Stew."

"Hold your tongue, woman," his father bellowed. "You're holding the lad up when he has important work to do."

His mother ignored this, trying to keep from laughing. Killian couldn't help but smile at her mirth, even though he hadn't guessed the end of her story just yet.

"Well, you know how your father's belly gets to rumbling after Dragon Fire Stew," she continued. "He couldn't hold it in and broke wind during Shalindra's liturgy."

Her laughter broke loose with Killian's. His father grumbled in his chair, shaking his head, waiting for them to stop. It took a few moments before they got themselves composed.

"All right," he said, as they calmed down, wiping tears from their eyes. "You've had your fun. Now, I need you to escort the king's blade to Shalindra. Are you going, or not?"

"Of course, I'll go, Father," Killian said, "but I'll leave the stew alone."

"Now, don't go disrespecting my stew," his mother said. "I can't help it he likes it so much."

"Neither can I," his father said, patting his belly with a chuckle of his own.

He picked up the weapon, allowing his wife to see before handing it over to Killian again. "Be careful with it," he said. "You can take Esmeralda with you. She knows the way as well as I do...maybe better."

Killian nodded, taking the sword from his father. His mother smiled at her husband and then bent down to kiss him. When she stood again, he swatted her behind. "Now, I can have all the stew I want tonight."

"Who said I was cooking it?" she replied.

"The boy will be gone tonight," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "You bring the stew and I'll bring the dessert."

She laughed at this.

"I'm standing right here," Killian complained. "That's my mother, after all."

"Aye, but she's been my wife longer," his father said, elbowing him playfully as she walked out of the workshop back to the house. "How do you think you got here, lad?"

"Far too much information," Killian said. Then he grinned before walking out toward the stable. "I'll see you both in three days, Eliam willing. And I don't want a baby brother on the way when I return."

"Get going, and no promises!" his father called after him.

Killian paused to pick up the scabbard for the sword from the work bench where he had finished it the night before. He deposited the sword, noting the perfect fit with satisfaction. With a smile on his face, he wrapped the blade in a heavy cloth to protect the finish and tied it with cord. Then, bundle in hand, he went out to find Esmeralda.

The stable that adjoined the workshop at the rear of the building was an addition, but was still made of quarried graystone like the rest of the structure. Veins of black and white ran through the blocks here and there, setting off many of the buildings in Rainier. Graystone was light and durable and found in plenteous supply near the city. However, it was not nearly as grand as the more costly goldstone that made up the palace of the king; for through the gray blocks ran rivulets of purest gold in marble-like patterns.

Killian's family were commoners, but commoners of the First Order, meaning his father could receive commissions from any of the Royal Orders; even the king. Needless to say, all Common Order businessmen desired to ascend in social status to the level of First Order because these were the truly lucrative contracts. Killian and his family lived very comfortably. He could not recall ever lacking for food, like many who dwelled in the Mud Districts beyond Rainier's high wall—named so for the materials used for constructing their homes.

These Thirds, or Third Order Commoners, lived in relative poverty. It may have been said that they survived, but little more than that. Their dwellings were simple mud brick homes that provided shelter without much comfort. Many of these Thirds served in unskilled jobs within Rainier and without the wall, maintaining sanitation or working on farms that surrounded the city on all sides and fed many cities besides the king's own.

Yet, one had to have skills like Killian's father to ascend to First Order. He was a bladesmith and possibly the most skilled arms maker in all of Rainier. He had a reputation for excellent quality that brought him contracts from far cities. If it had been possible, royals from the other great houses would have purchased their arms from Radden. He was just that well known.

Besides, few others had the connections required in order to have a blade, or other weapon, blessed by the Priestess of Eliam. The Malkind priests had their wands, but not even a wand could withstand a blessed blade. They were rare and powerful and connected with Eliam's creation. Some had the characteristic of controlling fire, or water, or the earth.

The Malkind, worshipped among the great houses and in their great capital cities, had rebelled against Eliam after man was fashioned in his image and given dominion of the world. These dishonorable spirits opposed Eliam and made the rulers of the great houses to have dominion over other men. As long as they worshipped them and promoted the same in others, they had the power of the wands and the Bright Ones. These Daughters of Eliam were slaves to the great houses and were bred expressly for the purpose of bonding with the high princes in order to secure power over the lower orders of Eliam's creation.

Many believed, and the Malkind priests taught, that Eliam had been overthrown long ago and his creation and his people, like the Bright Ones, became the property of the Malkind spirits. However, Killian and others like him did not hold to these teachings. They still hoped in Eliam, though to do so openly meant banishment or death.

Killian wondered why the Priestess of Eliam, who lived in a secret place known to only a very few, would bother to give Eliam's blessings and confer power upon weapons such as these, when they would end up in the hands of royals. He had never thought to ask his father, and never felt he had the opportunity to ask the priestess. However, he was considering just this question—reverently, of course.

Killian picked a blue apple from the barrel that stayed just inside the door to the stable. Horses love all kinds of apples, but it was the blue sea apples that Esmeralda enjoyed most. There were only a few horses in Radden's stable, and Esmeralda dwelt like a queen among them. She was Killian's father's horse, and a more faithful animal could not be found.

He called to her before reaching her stall, and she soon thrust her head out to find him coming. She expected the apples by now. Killian always brought her one, and she loved him as much or more than she did Radden.

Killian gave her the apple and laid his hand on her muzzle. Thoughts of pleasure, happiness, and eagerness came to him from Esmeralda. She chewed the apple and allowed him to stroke her sleek black coat along her jaw and down her neck.

"Are you ready to go, Esmeralda?"

She knickered in reply.

"Father is sending us to the priestess," Killian added. He held forth the bundle for her inspection. "We're to see this blade blessed by Eliam and whatever power conferred that he might bestow."

Esmeralda acknowledged the report with a slight bobbing of her head. Certainly, she was a special horse and a fine specimen of Equine nobility, but her ability to understand the spoken language of her master was a common characteristic among very intelligent animals. Horses, though not having the ability to speak with the voices of men, were able to convey emotions through touch, and many humans possessed the ability to interpret those impulses.

Killian was just such an individual. Often, in his youth, he would come to relate to Esmeralda particular events or situations that perplexed or angered him. The horse would convey to him her feelings on such matters, and Killian had found her to be often very encouraging to him; though occasionally her thoughts were the opposite of his hoped-for response and she would scold him instead.

Going to the back of her large stall, Killian removed a blanket and saddle and bridle to outfit Esmeralda for travel. When she was ready to go, he secured the bundle containing the king's sword to the saddle, opened her gate and led her out into the yard. He could feel her desire to be let loose through another pat on her neck.

Smiling, he said, "Away, Esmeralda!"

With plenty of money in his purse and his mark of patronage, Killian knew he could secure a room for the night and a good meal in an inn along the way. He would spend the rest of the day into the evening traveling across Rainier to the Eastern Gate. Here, he and Esmeralda could refresh themselves before leaving the city tomorrow and heading for the Brine Wood where Eliam's priestess awaited.

### A Mother's Love

Evelyn stood before the full length mirror in her room. The gilt looking glass reflected an image of a woman not quite forty years old, though her true age was closer to fifty. She had taken care for her appearance, and time had been kind. She was wife to the king and mistress to the royal house of Rainier, but Evelyn was not the king's bond.

She was not one of the Daughters of Eliam. Her authority was that of queen, not the lower position of a slave. As mistress, she ruled with her husband, while his bond, a woman well beyond her prime already, had been relegated to the role of concubine.

Not that this was any threat to Evelyn. Certainly, her husband, Stephen, had visited that woman's chambers from time to time. It was so with slaves among all of the royal houses. They provided power to their royal bonds and diversions in the night. Evelyn bore the children and had sole claim to her husband's love, but men are what they are. Their appetites can be tiring after a while. Evelyn did not think it so terrible to wield the authority while the bond sated Stephen's overactive masculine indulgences in her place when she felt unwilling.

She felt no jealousy. No bond could ever supplant her. No Daughter of Eliam could ever become queen. They were and always would be property. The mistress held her husband's authority and the final say in the business of the house.

Her blonde hair was pulled up in a braided bun that allowed the collar of her gown to be seen high on her thin neck. A clear diamond pendant the size of an egg sat just above her breastbone. The gown itself was burgundy with silver accents and lace sleeves.

The wand sleeve woven into her dress held a rod of silver with ancient runes carved into the metal. They outlined the breadth of power it wielded and its limitations. When the previous mistress of House Rainier had passed, the wand had waited for Stephen to marry. When Evelyn became the new mistress, the wand came to her; literally appearing for the first time in her hand at the conclusion of the royal wedding. It had been with her ever since.

With her right hand, she removed the silver wand from the sleeve of her left arm. Though some who used Malkind wands spoke to them their commands, those who held a deeper understanding applied their own blood in order to create an inseparable bond. Evelyn was such a person. She only needed to think her commands now, and her wand obeyed.

Even so, Evelyn held the wand up to her lips, speaking the name of her eldest son. "Nathan of House Rainier."

The tip of the silver Malkind wand began to glow with white light, like sparkling crystal. The runes carved along the length of the wand shimmered with this same light. Evelyn waited a moment while her wand communicated with another held by Nathan Rainier. Had he been a commoner with no privilege, she could instantly have communicated, finding him in whatsoever state he happened to be in at the time. He could have been on the privy, and her image would appear there with him unannounced.

However, Nathan's royal heritage guaranteed him a wand, and it protected him from such intrusions, intercepting her transmitted image and notifying him by a similar glow and an audible bell chime. After a moment, the bed chamber around Evelyn changed, becoming the palace study of her son, Nathan. The details were exact, and it was as if she actually stood in that distant chamber with the young man. However, this was only an illusion, and one that Nathan did not share. He still saw his study, only with her standing in the room. As the traveler in this communication, her viewpoint was the only one to change.

The eldest son of King Stephen was tall with broad shoulders like his father. His dark hair was neatly styled and cropped above his high collar. His eyes were a very light brown, bordering on amber. He was nearly the image of his father at the same age, and looking at him caused Evelyn's heart to ache for the days when Stephen courted her as his bride.

"Greetings, Mother," he said, addressing her image. "How go your preparations at the abbey?"

"Troublesome," she admitted. "There has been a change of plan. The girl I had originally hoped would become your bond has proven to be undisciplined."

"More trouble than she's worth?"

"Unfortunately," Evelyn replied.

"I see," Nathan said, beginning to pace about his study.

Evelyn recognized his anxiety. He could never sit still as a child, when he was agitated over something.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you that Father's condition worsens every day," Nathan said. "Honestly, I'm surprised Bella has had the strength to keep him alive this long."

Evelyn was already aware of everything Nathan was telling her. However, she didn't bother to correct him for stating the obvious. He was as nervous as she was about the king's failing health. Even now, the other great houses waited upon his death like vultures circling the sky. They saw an opportunity here where they might wrest the crown from House Rainier and establish the monarchy in another location.

Unfortunately, in this situation, it might not even cost them open war. If House Rainier could not produce a bonded successor to the throne before Stephen died then the crown would be forfeited. At that point, politics would take over and a consensus had to be found between all of the great houses as to where control lay.

Bella, the king's bond, was older than Evelyn by nearly ten years. It was only this Daughter of Eliam and her life force which now sustained Stephen. Through the bond, they shared life and power. Evelyn was comforted by the fact that her life was not the one being sacrificed in order to keep the king alive. She would live on after. However, when Bella's life energies expired, so would the king.

"Do not worry so," she said. "I have made other arrangements. Marissa will become your bride, as we planned, and, in due time when I pass, she will succeed me as the Mistress of House Rainier."

"And my bond?"

"She will arrive with me in three days' time among my caravan."

"Very well, Mother," Nathan replied, attempting to calm his fears.

"Until I arrive, you must keep Bella strong for your father's sake and ours."

"I will triple the guard on them both," he assured her.

"Good," she said. "We can't afford to lose them before your bonding ceremony."

Nathan Rainier bowed to his mother. Evelyn then released the link sustained by her wand between them. The glowing runes upon its surface returned to their usual state. In Nathan's study, her image vanished. At the abbey, Nathan's study and his image also disappeared. Once more, Evelyn stood alone in her bedchamber.

### Harmony and Heartache

Celia came to wake me as promised. I recalled my dreams with perfect clarity, even the parts that were disturbing to me. Still, it was hard for me to deny some aspects of that world that I knew came from my waking mind as well as my unconscious person. Finding Mistress Evelyn as an old crone who hated me and desired only to cause me pain was certainly not an idea born only of my subconscious. The events earlier that day were only one example of the sort of behavior I had come to expect from that woman.

Still, I was excited by the dramatic difference in this dream from the others. Celia had encouraged me to ask the man of my dreams his name, something that had never actually occurred to me, and this time I had done it. More to my surprise had been his reply.

I was smiling as Celia helped me with my gown, fastening the buttons that ran up the spine of the dress with a button hook. As yet, I had said nothing, hoping Celia would bring up the subject. She was anxious about something, and I could only assume that it must have to do with Mistress Evelyn and the dinner in her honor.

Only the girls from our ward and our Matron, Hannah, would be present. Anytime Mistress Evelyn came to us, it always set everyone on edge. The woman was insufferable, and there was no pleasing her. She berated Hannah for her sloppy management of Rainier's abbey, and, in turn, Hannah berated us for our slothful ways and inappropriate conduct.

Celia caught my smile in the mirror. "What are you up to?" she asked.

Since I had only been waiting all this time for an opportunity, and she might not have provided another, I began to gush about my experience in the dreaming world.

Celia smiled when she heard my excitement. "I knew he would come to you again while you slept," she said. "You must tell me all about it at once. I need some cheering with this dinner ahead of us, and I can see that your news must be so wonderful that you've quite forgotten all about the striping the mistress gave you earlier today."

I turned to her from the three-sided mirror in my blue velvet gown. My eyes changed from green to a deep azure to match the gown. This ability I had learned when I was only ten-years-old. At the time, my eye color would change with my mood—a trait that startled commoners in the Daughters of Eliam. However, I had learned to control this trait very well. Celia didn't make any mention of the change. Her eyes matched her lavender gown already.

I explained the beginning of my dream, when the crone had abused me. Celia laughed at this. It was not the first time my unconscious mind had portrayed the woman this way. She had heard that part many times before.

However, as I moved on to my mysterious dream man, Celia quieted and grew intent upon catching every detail. When I got to the dancing, she sighed as though she might swoon at any moment. As the dream lovers floated away from the ballroom, Celia gasped. Her lavender eyes sparkled with delight.

"So romantic," she said, clasping her hands to her breast. "I must start having dreams like these."

"But that isn't all," I offered.

Celia grinned. "It isn't? What else happened? Oh, you promised you would leave nothing out."

I laughed at her eagerness, placing my hand upon her cheek. "I did as you suggested."

"You asked him his name?"

I nodded.

"And he told you?"

I grinned and nodded again.

Celia gasped at this. "What is he called?"

I grinned and then turned back to the mirror. "We really should finish dressing for dinner," I suggested.

Celia swatted me across my posterior with her lace fan. "You promised," she pouted.

"He called himself, Killian," I replied, watching her reaction in the mirror.

She looked puzzled. "Killian," she said, repeating the name for herself. "Have you ever heard that name?"

"I haven't," I said. "What do you suppose it means?"

"It seems strange that you would make up a name for this man when you've never heard it before," Celia postulated. "Still, he is only a dream."

My smile faded at this, and Celia noticed my downcast expression.

"But it is still a lovely dream," she added. "Now you may call upon Killian in your thoughts. What a lovely distraction."

I nodded, smiling a little at this. She was correct, Killian was only a dream. However, knowing the name of my prince could only make the dreaming sweeter.

When I had dressed, Celia and I joined the other Daughters of Eliam in the anteroom, adjacent to the main dining room. Our titles, as such, sounded very elegant, and one would have thought we held high station. The truth, however, was that the Daughters of Eliam were only highborn slaves.

Besides Celia and myself, the abbey was home to nine other girls. I was the oldest at seventeen years of age. Celia was next in line; two years my junior. The next girl in line was only eleven-years-old; too young to be bonded and far behind either of us in her training.

Celia was the only girl with whom I felt I could share my thoughts. Even she was a bit immature, but at least she was close to my age, having similar interests. Fortunately for both of us, we had always gotten along splendidly.

The other nine girls were also dressed in finely crafted gowns. Despite the fact that we were slaves, we were well provided for. It was only that we had no free will to live our lives according to our desires. Even the commoner could come and go as he pleased. Not so with the Daughters of Eliam. We were always subject to the Malkind and their mortal kings. They used our bodies and they used our power.

From the oldest, me, to the youngest, a six-year-old named Kayla, we stood as rigid as marble statues, waiting for Hannah to ring the bell from the dining room. Each and every one of us had learned stillness and obedience the hard way as a young girl living within the abbey under Hannah's care.

Still, it was no wonder she was so stern with us. Our bad behavior reflected directly upon Hannah. More than once, she had faced the same sort of punishment I had endured earlier at Evelyn's hand. I supposed any sane person would rather show little mercy, in order that we perform as expected, and thereby avoid receiving those punishments herself.

We heard the bell; eleven dolls dressed in our finest and ready to be put out on display. From the youngest to the oldest, we filed out through the door when the servant opened to us. Our dresses represented eleven different colors, yet there was no clashing of hues. We were a rainbow on parade for our royal guest of honor.

I came through last, after Celia, in my azure blue. Mistress Evelyn was already present, standing next to her chair at the head of the table, watching our every move. A female servant—for there were no males allowed at the abbey—waited patiently behind her tall chair to seat her when Evelyn would begin to move again.

We did not look at the mistress until our lineup had reconvened along one side of the table, where Hannah, dressed in her best, awaited us. As we stood at attention, our eyes were reverently set upon her. The gesture was done only so she could see that we had each mastered the ability to match our eye color with our gowns. She scrutinized each living doll without comment for a few moments.

Finally, she nodded, indicating that the servant could seat her. Once she was set at the head of the table, we girls scattered in the direction of our designated seating assignments.

The table was long, able to accommodate thirty persons and food enough for twice that many. The service was laid out already. The power of we who were called Eliam's Daughters kept the flies and pests away from the abbey. In all my time here, I had never seen a fly or a rat or any such creatures. Our spells, though that is a terribly crude word for it, warded them away.

Mistress Evelyn allowed the servant to push her and her chair up to the table. The rest of us, including our matron, Hannah, seated ourselves five to a side. As the oldest, and being the odd person out, I sat directly across from Hannah. We were positioned closest to Evelyn in order that she might speak to us if she so desired. It would be extremely unlikely that she would have any want of talking to the younger girls; though she had spoken on occasion to Celia.

The first course was served without conversation. None of us dared to speak, unless a question was directed to us from Mistress Evelyn or Hannah. A broth was ladled out into the bowls set before each of us. Steam rose from my spoonful in twisting curls as I brought it to my mouth. We did not slurp. We did not gulp. Every mouthful was delivered with utmost severity, as though we meant to smother all impropriety with silence.

Anxiety levels were very high. Evelyn had said nothing. I watched Celia and she watched me. Hannah was watching all of us like a vulture perched in a tree, waiting for its meal to stop wriggling. Celia and I had developed a way of looking at one another without looking. I could see her in my peripheral vision with what most would consider startling clarity. All the while, our eyes appeared to be fixed upon distant points.

We did not smile; not even once. Actually, this part was pretty easy, since every person at the table was wound as tightly as bowstring; every person except Mistress Evelyn. She's the one who had us on edge. For her part, she was the epitome of elegance and grace. If she felt she had anything to say to us, then evidently there was all the time in the world for us to wait to hear it. She was royal; a Daughter of the Malkind. She waited for no one.

It was during the dessert, after a grueling five previous courses, that Mistress Evelyn finally addressed our group. She did so without fanfare. There was no preamble, just the shocking news.

"I have decided that Celia will accompany me on my return journey to Rainier," Evelyn said.

On her first syllable, every one of us girls and Hannah stopped eating. We straightened and listened to every word. When Celia's name was mentioned, every girl at the table opened their mouths in astonishment.

Evelyn continued unperturbed. "She will become bond to my son, Nathan, since Raven has proven herself unworthy."

Hannah's eyes were on me from across the table. She knew how I felt about Celia. She was like a little sister to me, the closest to family I had. Hannah likely expected me to make some sort of outburst at Mistress Evelyn's terrible news, but I was no fool. The pain of my earlier punishment was still fresh upon my skin.

Inside my mind, however, I was screaming long and loud. How could the mistress do this to Celia? She was too young for this. Her training was not complete. All these things and more I wanted to say to the woman, but I knew better. She wouldn't have listened anyway.

Celia was reeling from the news. I could see it in her eyes. It was as if Evelyn had struck her a blow to the face. She was in a daze, not even meeting my eyes. Her breathing became rapid and shallow. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had fainted, but Celia held on.

When her eyes did meet mine, they were pleading. Someone had to do something. This couldn't be allowed to stand. Hannah would not do anything about it. She would not brook any argument whatsoever. I had to say something, anything that might stop this.

Then the last of Evelyn's words replayed in my mind. "Since Raven has proven herself unworthy."

My lips quivered, as I realized the awful truth. I had done this to my beloved Celia. I had doomed her to this fate all because I questioned matters which I should have simply accepted in dumb obedience.

Tears fell upon my cheeks and rolled down my face, dropping onto my dessert plate. I should have known something like this might happen. What a fool I was not to anticipate Evelyn's unalterable course. She required a bond for her son. When I made myself troublesome in her sight, she was bound to turn to the next girl in line, regardless of her age or depth of training. This was the result.

Evelyn sat at her dessert for a full five minutes more, eating pudding as though nothing at all was the matter. I could not help but notice the smirk upon her ruby red lips. She was actually enjoying the misery her news had caused. Her eyes flicked up to mine momentarily.

"Why, Raven, you have hardly touched your dessert," Evelyn observed sweetly. "Is something wrong, dear?"

My breath caught in my chest.

I lowered my eyes again. "No, Mistress," I replied. "I'm not very hungry at the moment."

Evelyn swallowed her last dollop of pudding and then placed her spoon down upon her plate, dabbing at her lips with her linen napkin. When she stood, we all stood together in respect. She smiled at us; a wicked smile that let us know she could do anything she wanted. There was nothing we could do.

Turning to her maidservant, she said, "You may draw my bath." Then, addressing our group, she offered, "Until tomorrow, ladies."

We remained standing until Mistress Evelyn exited the room. Stunned silence was all any of us could come up with. It was Hannah who finally spoke.

"You must be ready to depart by morning, Celia," she said. Then Hannah turned and left the table for her quarters without another word.

To her credit, Celia kept her composure until we both returned to my bedchamber. Once the door closed behind us, Celia fell apart, sobbing uncontrollably upon my breast as we sat upon the bed. I stroked her hair and made my best effort to console her. Yet, tears streamed down my face the entire time.

There was no consolation I could truly offer her. Tomorrow, Celia would be taken away in my place to face a life she was unprepared to cope with. I did not explain the obvious: that this whole situation was my fault. Still, I couldn't stop whispering in her ear how sorry I was for what had happened.

### Overnight Sensations

Killian and Esmeralda drew near to the great wall that surrounded Rainier on all sides. It had towered nearly one hundred feet for centuries and was almost another city in of itself. Legions of the king's soldiers lived within the barrack complexes ranged throughout the wall, which was broader at the bottom than the top. Still, two chariots could easily drive side by side along the avenue atop the wall.

The Eastern Gate loomed ahead, but night had come and the gate was already closed. Killian had anticipated this. He knew of an inn where his mark of patronage would be accepted without question. He had planned already for an overnight stay and an early departure by the Eastern Road. Once he traveled beyond the Mud Districts and the farm lands further out, he and Esmeralda would depart the road for a trail leading into the Brine Wood and Eliam's Temple there.

A sign blew in the light breeze above the door to the nearby inn. The city was so vast that the wind still swept over the wall, but the dangerous seasonal storm winds had been tempered greatly, protecting those who dwelt inside. The sign caught Killian's attention as the gas lamp out front illuminated the image of a snarling canine baring blood-stained fangs.

"It doesn't get much more wholesome than the Mangy Cur, eh, Esmeralda?"

The mare stared at the inn and snorted. Killian sensed her concern. Esmeralda was nervous.

"There's nothing dangerous that I can tell," Killian replied, patting her neck reassuringly.

They moved along the side of the building toward the stable in the rear. Despite the hour, several boys were on hand to tend to Esmeralda's needs. They worked a shift through the night and would be replaced by others in the morning.

Killian left her in their care. He didn't recognize any of these particular boys. Those he remembered meeting on an earlier visit with his father have either changed jobs or grown too old to still be working the stables.

Still, Yeager, the proprietor, was known as a cautious man. He would never have some pack of street urchins working for him. Killian removed his package from Esmeralda's saddle, placing the wrapped sword under his cloak. He patted her again before leaving and bid her goodnight. Esmeralda nuzzled at him gently, blowing as a sign of affection.

He left her in the care of the boys who began grooming and feeding her at once, preparing a stall with fresh oats, hay and water. Killian walked back toward the front of the inn and the main door where several people were just leaving, singing a merry tune as they stumbled along toward their homes. He treaded carefully, surveying the street in every direction to be sure no one suspicious was about. Feeling secure, he walked to the heavy oak door beneath the swaying signage and entered.

Once inside, the aroma of incense came to his attention, caressing him with mint and cinnamon. The incense burned in censer bowls fastened to thick support beams holding the second floor in place above. Sitting upon small pedestals above each censer sat the fashioned image of a Malkind spirit. It was not an overestimation to say that Rainier's citizens were extremely superstitious, and none of them wished to offend the gods. The incense burned day and night, making it the most noticeable odor in the inn.

However, it wasn't the only smell Killian took in. There was the savor of fresh bread baking in the kitchen, as well as the tang of peppered meats. Beneath these active scents was the air of sweat and horseflesh. He was thankful for Yeager's superstition, if only for all of the incense to mask the assemblage of body odor.

The Mangy Cur was not quite filled to capacity this evening. But, being near the end of the week, this was no surprise. Still, despite the crowd, Killian knew that most of Yeager's patrons would only be here for a while before heading home a few hours after darkness fell. Only weary travelers tended to remain overnight, and there were usually more than enough rooms upstairs to accommodate Yeager's share of them. He was not the only inn near the Eastern Gate and certainly not the fanciest. However, Yeager was an old friend of his father's and trusted.

The Mangy Cur was quite the opposite sort of inn one might expect, having such a name. However, it had been all the rage several decades ago for the proprietors of inns to name their establishments the oddest, most indecorous sort of things they could come up with. On the inside, however, these same inns would be positively charming.

Needless to say, it had become all the rage for royals and First Order Commoners to seek out these places and frequent them for fun. The Mangy Cur was one such inn of the day. However, in recent years, the fascination with these establishments had waned. The First Order Commoners still came as a matter of habit and for want of reputable inns, despite the odd names, but the royals no longer bothered.

The Mangy Cur, in Killian's opinion, was top shelf for an inn. It had almost all matching furniture, plenty of space, a halfway decent clientele, and easily accepted marks of patronage from royals. Yeager, now a burly man with hair already white upon his head, spotted Killian from behind his mahogany bar top and gave a wave.

Killian returned the gesture with a nod. Wendy, one of Yeager's daughters and his chief barmaid, observed the wave from her father and followed his line of sight to Killian. She brightened immediately, when she recognized him. Despite her father being ever present, Wendy had never curbed her flirtatious advances toward Killian.

She waved, and Killian responded in kind, hiding a slight wince. He enjoyed Wendy's company, but he had never given a serious relationship with the girl the first thought. Given her occupation, she probably flirted with most of the regular clientele under the age of forty. Because her father was the proprietor, Wendy might have still retained her virtue, but there was almost as great a chance that she had not.

When Killian found a table, the girl hurried over, bypassing raised hands desiring her attention in order to come to him. "Been a while since you've come this way, Killian Radden-son. I've hardly known what to do with myself."

Killian only smiled. "Well, I hope Yeager still has a room available. Quite a crowd tonight."

Wendy sidled a little closer to him, brushing his shoulder with her waist. "I could put in a word for you," she said, grinning. "Of course, I might expect something in return."

Killian sighed, unsure what to say. He didn't want to give Wendy any real hope of a relationship between them, neither did he want to offend her. Still, she was so persistent.

Finally, he offered, "A dance, perhaps?"

Wendy brightened at the prospect, nodding once. "A dance it is," she replied. "When I say?"

Killian nodded, smiling, "Of course, milady."

She smiled and wandered away toward the bar and her father. "Shall I bring you your usual, then?"

"Thank you," he called after her.

Once again, she ignored hands raised in her direction. Another girl, not one of Yeager's daughters, made her way over to wait upon those Wendy had bypassed. She shook her head wearily, apparently knowing there was no use complaining.

Killian took an opportunity to survey the room more carefully. He made his observation as casual as possible. Near as he could tell, no one seemed to be watching him. Still, thieves were always about, and he had no intention of losing the king's newly forged blade before it could be blessed by Shalindra and delivered to His Majesty for his bonding ceremony.

With King Stephen's failing health, a need had arisen for the heir to stand forth and take the reins of the kingdom before a conflict among the great houses developed. Yet, Nathan Rainier was barely nineteen-years-old and unmarried. He had no bond at the moment either, though it was expected by all who dwelt in Rainier that this matter would shortly be remedied.

Still, if anything prevented his bonding, or his wedding, then he would remain unqualified to assume the crown, giving the other houses an opportunity they would no doubt delight to have. Killian had heard his father speaking with other notable businessmen in Rainier about the problem. Some feared the other houses would carry out some plot or another, attempting to disrupt Nathan Rainier's ascension to his father's throne.

Fortunately for the royal family and the capital city, House Rainier boasted the most powerful army of all the houses. Only Auturn could compare. Legions of troops served King Stephen and were ready at a moment's notice to defend the crown. Not only Killian's father, but many other bladesmiths provided the weapons that kept House Rainier safe. Stephen's subjects were loyal to a fault and desired no other ruler; even if Nathan was young and untried as a leader. Surely the young prince's heritage had to count for something.

Killian was the same age as Nathan and already he knew the arts of war as though by second nature. It would have been ridiculous to suppose that Prince Nathan had not received similar training; probably the finest tutors and instructors privilege could buy. The people stood behind his assuming the throne. After all, what other choice was there?

Wendy returned with a tankard and a pitcher besides. "Let's see it," she said.

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, I do, but you know how my father is about money," Wendy explained. "He'd be nervous as a cat charging the palace without anyone having seen your mark on the same visit."

Killian rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, exposing a tattooed image of the Rainier family crest in miniature—an eagle in flight over a blazing sun.

Wendy nodded. "Besides, at least I know you're still a prize catch."

Killian grinned, but otherwise did not reply to the comment.

"Are you sure you don't want something a bit stronger?" Wendy asked.

Killian held the tankard as she tipped the pitcher and filled it with cool water.

He laughed, saying, "I wouldn't want to start stumbling about during our dance. You might not think so well of me, if I mashed your toes."

Wendy grinned. "Cheeky boy."

She left the pitcher of water and walked back to the kitchen, glancing back several times before passing Yeager at the bar.

Killian sighed and muttered to himself, "I wonder if Mother knows any tricks for dissuading a young woman without offending her."

While it was true that propriety demanded one to marry from among the stock of one's own station, he also realized his mother and father would never begrudge him a breach of etiquette. At least, not if he was infatuated. However, he was not. Mostly, this was because no other girl had dazzled him like the young raven-haired girl from his dreams.

A peppered steak eventually found its way to Killian's table along with fresh bread and a healthy dollop of seasoned butter. He enjoyed the meal and the obligatory dance afterward. In fact, he remained for a total of three dances. Wendy was still good company.

A few hours later, Killian was settled into one of the Mangy Cur's reasonably furnished, comfortable rooms, nestled beneath a heavy blanket. From adjacent rooms, the sound of love play filtered through the walls to him, but Killian paid this no mind. He wondered if the raven-haired girl would return to his dreams tonight. Extinguishing the oil lamp on the bedside table, Killian wasted no time finding out.

### Farewell to Thee

Celia spent her last night at the abbey in my bedchamber. We wept for her departure, talked about times we had enjoyed together, and I attempted to prepare her for what she might face when she finally reached the palace at Rainier and Prince Nathan. One subject we avoided was the matter of her bond coming to her for carnal relations.

Celia was only fifteen. She was not prepared for the world she would enter beyond these walls. I knew something of what would be expected of her, but I was no world traveler. I barely had any more experience in these matters than Celia.

If only I had kept my tongue silent and obeyed all that was told me. I could have prevented this tragedy, but now Celia would be made to suffer for my mistakes. She never said the words, never blamed me for what had happened. Still, I couldn't help but blame myself because I knew the truth.

We finally settled in for a much needed rest during the wee hours of the morning, only to be woke by Hannah before dawn. We hurried to dress Celia, so that Mistress Evelyn was not made to wait even one second. Tears ran down Celia's cheeks almost the entire time, making her makeup impossible to apply properly. In the end, Hannah said to skip it. Celia was young and her skin was appropriately pale with enough red in her cheeks to make it seem as though she already had makeup on. It would have to do.

Celia's few belongings were stowed in a trunk and fastened. Evelyn's footmen delivered it to one of the armored carriages outside. Her servants had been housed in quarters separate to the abbey proper along with her carriages and their horse teams. Her caravan was comprised of one dozen of these metal-plated carriages, bearing a dozen soldiers and their arms in each. That was except for Evelyn's carriage which was twice as long as those carrying soldiers. And there was also a single carriage, no less armored, that carried all of her luggage and, now, Celia's meager chest full of undergarments and a few dresses and other accouterments.

Celia and I, along with Hannah, were waiting upon the stone steps to the abbey when Mistress Evelyn made her way out of the building. She was dressed for traveling, which is to say that she was wearing a plainer, less colorful dress and long leather boots, should the need arise to disembark at one of the towns or villages along the way. Celia did not possess any traveling attire, so she made due with a practical beige print that was comfortable for wearing throughout the day.

Our eyes were bloodshot with tears, but we withheld when she appeared. Still, Evelyn must have noticed. She sighed heavily, pulling on a pair of dark gloves.

"We have a long trip ahead, child," Evelyn said to Celia. "Let's not waste time with long goodbyes."

"Yes, ma'am," Celia replied.

She shouldn't have done it, but Celia turned to me and hugged me tightly. "I will miss you, my sister," she said into my ear.

Tears flowed afresh, hot upon my cheeks. I couldn't help it. My only dear friend was being taken away from me forever.

She released me, falling obediently in line behind Evelyn. I kept my place, despite a desperate desire to cling to Celia. The urge to use my power and escape this place with her passed through my mind more than once. However, I did not act upon the impulse. It would have been foolishness.

Evelyn's footmen assisted her into her compartment on one end of the carriage. Then Celia was assisted into the compartment on the other end. I sighed with relief. Because Evelyn was unwilling to ride in the same space with Celia, my friend would have her privacy. She could be alone with her thoughts and her tears.

Within minutes, the caravan got underway, rolling steadily along the dusty, winding road like a centipede. I watched it go with a heavy heart, wishing again that I had not allowed my foolish pride to do this to her. I couldn't help a gasp as the final carriage finally disappeared beyond the last hill.

### Over the River and Through the Woods

The following day, Killian and Esmeralda set on their way early. The sword remained wrapped and out of sight beneath his cloak as he went to the stables to fetch the black mare. Esmeralda was eager to see him and excited to be on their way. While still inside the inn, Killian had requested one small favor from Wendy before departing.

"It'll cost you," she had said.

"It's for a lady," he said innocently.

"Another girl?" Wendy asked, suddenly offended by the thought. "What do you want?"

Killian laughed. "I want a blue sea apple for Esmeralda, please. They're her favorite."

"Your horse?" Wendy stuttered. She grinned. "A lady, indeed."

She went into the kitchen and soon returned, holding the bright blue apple out of reach. "My turn," she said.

"And what is your price, milady?"

She walked out from behind the bar, handing him the apple. "For this," she said. Then she moved in, planting a kiss upon his lips. Killian did not pull away, though he was a bit startled. Wendy pulled away smiling. "Safe travels."

Killian had nodded with a grin and then turned to go.

Out in the barn Killian tossed Esmeralda the apple. She snatched it from the air like a bullfrog catching flies. The boys saddling her for the journey looked on in amazement, commenting about how clever an animal she was.

Esmeralda was such a close companion to him and his family that he rarely thought of her as an animal anymore. Instead, he fancied her as simply a different sort of person—someone with different appetites and anatomy, even an odd language, but no less a person in his estimation. She was wise in her way and a true friend. He valued her company above many _normal_ people.

When the boys were done with her, Killian thanked the trio and tossed them each a copper. Each of them snatched the copper square from the air as deftly as Esmeralda did her apple. "Thank you, sir!" they added in unison.

Killian and Esmeralda left the stables of the Mangy Cur, heading up the road toward the Eastern Gate. Many pedestrians were out this morning. However, the majority had been waiting for the gate to open in order to enter Rainier from the Mud District or the highway.

There was little traffic heading in the other direction. Killian had no trouble making his way through. There was only a brief check made by the guards as they ascertained his identity. They were charged with making sure no wanted person was allowed to leave the city by the gates. Behind the guards, at the post, was a board bearing several sketched images of thieves.

Fortunately, Killian bore no resemblance to any of these malcontents, so he was allowed to pass through to the highway beyond. To the left and the right, as far as Killian could see, the Mud Districts extended along the wall. Many structures, mainly businesses, used the wall as part of their architecture. Homes clamored for space, leaving only narrow avenues for carts and horses to go between. However, horses were hard for Thirds to come by anyway, so it was not so great a problem as one might imagine.

Straight on, the Eastern Highway proceeded through the district, stretching toward green pastures far off. Beyond these homesteads, where cattle and other livestock were raised for Rainier and where much of the kingdom's grain was grown, the highway came near to the Brine Wood. It would take him a full day's travel, with Esmeralda keeping a brisk pace, in order to reach the Doe River by nightfall.

"Let's get going, girl," Killian said to Esmeralda.

The black mare jolted forward eagerly. Dust clouds churned up behind them as they tore down the packed, earthen road. Killian was unsure which of them was the more excited by their trip. Either way, he was glad to be away from home for a time. There was nothing like a little adventure to stir the soul.

Hours later, as dusk began to transition into a clear night sky, Killian and Esmeralda crossed a shallow section of the Doe River just upstream from a set of rapids leading toward Doe River Falls three miles away. He found a spot clear of rocks and debris—a good place to bed down for the night—and began to establish a small camp. Using flint and stone and dried brush, Killian quickly got a fire started, adding larger pieces of dry wood until he had a nice blaze going.

Killian removed Esmeralda's load and saddle, setting the sword next to the fire with his things. Then he loosed her to graze at her leisure. There was no danger of the black mare wandering off. Killian was more likely to get into mischief than she was, and they both knew it.

Removing a bow and quiver from among his things, Killian set off for a nearby meadow where he and his father knew of a large warren of rabbits. In the twilight, he found numerous opportunities. One well-placed shot later, Killian sat again by his fire, roasting the skinned rabbit over the open flames upon a makeshift spit.

Once Esmeralda had had her fill, she returned to him near the fire where he was already enjoying his meal. "Are you full already?" Killian asked.

Esmeralda nuzzled his shoulder.

"I suppose you're wanting another sea apple?" he asked.

The mare knickered in reply.

"I'm sorry, but I only got the one from Wendy back at the inn," he reported. "That one cost me a kiss."

Esmeralda responded with an exasperated snort.

"I know, I know," he said, grinning, "but I did want you to have the apple."

She nuzzled him again, and he patted her muzzle.

"Don't worry, I'm not taking a fancy to Wendy. I know how you would disapprove. However, I did have a nice dream last night. Shall I tell you about it?"

A snort came in reply and a nudge to his arm.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said merrily, taking another bite of his rabbit. "I dreamed about the raven-haired girl again."

Esmeralda knickered at this, while Killian settled into his retelling.

"I entered what must be some sort of ballroom," he continued. "There before me, in the midst of whirling couples in masquerade, stood the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Her eyes were the same color as the dress she was wearing. She wore a mask, as did I, but we somehow sensed one another. We just knew, out of all these people in attendance, we were meant for one another."

Esmeralda snorted next to his ear. Killian laid his hand on her muzzle, attending to her emotional responses.

"Oh, I know she's only a dream, but it feels so real when I see her," Killian attempted to explain. "I went to her, and we embraced. Then we danced together and all of the others stopped. The very chamber around us seemed to melt away and we were dancing among the stars."

Esmeralda snorted again.

"I'm not being foolish," Killian replied. "I can't help my own dreams, can I? I know what you're thinking, Esmeralda. I should stop thinking so much about a figment of my imagination, but I can't seem to help it."

Another snort and a shake of the mare's head.

Killian laughed. "You're right, old girl. I've more important matters to deal with at the moment."

Esmeralda bobbed her head, pulling Killian's cloak off of his pack and draping it haphazardly over his head.

"All right," he said, chuckling. "I'm going to get some sleep. You had better do the same though. We still have a good distance to go and the terrain is all hills and valleys from here on."

She snorted again, walking off toward a nearby tree. He didn't have to tell her about the terrain. She had made this trip far more times than Killian, going with his father to the temple when he was still a toddler. Killian stripped the last of the meat from his rabbit and then curled up with his proffered cloak. Esmeralda remained nearby, ears alert should anyone attempt to come upon their camp during the night.

The next day began well enough, until deep purple thunderheads rolled across the sky, making the already murky Brine Wood seem gloomier than ever. Killian rode Esmeralda, but the best pace they could manage was a steady canter and only at times when the massive trees gave them clearance. The Brine Wood was eons old, mystical and legendary. Very few people were brave enough to enter, for it was said strange creatures resided there. A man might enter, but he would be lucky to leave.

Killian, however, did not tremble at such stories, neither was he nervous to be traveling in the Brine. He and his family knew well what strange creatures inhabited this place. It was the lower forms in creation that ran free here, though stories of ancient dragons also circulated. This wood was a place where Eliam's folk could dwell close to him like no other. In this place the animals spoke audibly, if they felt inclined, and there seemed to be Eliam's power coursing through almost everything from trees and rocks and streams to deer and squirrels and panthers.

Even Esmeralda couldn't resist the opportunity such trips to the Brine Wood afforded her. It was a chance to voice her opinions on a great many topics that were dear to her heart. Killian, like his father, got to hear them all.

"You really should have thought to bring more apples, Killian," Esmeralda said in a frustrated tone.

"I'm sorry...again. How many times must I say so before you forgive me?"

"I only repeat myself for future reference," said the black mare as they rounded another large tree.

A deer bounded out of a thicket across the trail. It paused, looked at Killian and Esmeralda. Then it became transparent against the foliage. Only the tell-tale movement of the brush gave away its escape.

"Bet you wish you could become invisible," Killian mused, poking at her shoulder from his saddle.

"Keep prodding at me, and I'll toss you into a bush," Esmeralda said. "Besides, I have no need to hide. I'm not some frail creature that runs from danger."

"I know," Killian laughed. "I'm sorry. I'm only teasing you."

"Foolish boy, you had best not tease the priestess, Shalindra," Esmeralda warned. "She might rather put a curse upon you."

Killian grinned. "I'll be sure to be careful with my words."

"Better yet, I could speak for you," Esmeralda mused. "Shalindra knows me well, by now. She has even brought me apples on occasion."

"As tempting an offer as that is, I think I had better handle this myself," Killian replied. "After all, I will one day take over our shop from Father. Protocol is nearly as important learning as smithing in our trade."

Esmeralda snorted, not derisively but as a matter of warning. A fog was coming—not a gentle building of condensation in the cool forest atmosphere, but a roiling, boiling wall approaching through the trees. Knowing this sign already, Esmeralda halted. Killian, feeling only slightly apprehensive, waited in the saddle, observing the influx of fog.

It soon enveloped them where they stood. Esmeralda did not fidget, did not cry out even in the human tongue. Killian inhaled the cool mist as it covered them like an avalanche.

The sounds of the forest around them were pushed out, as though dampened by a blanket of snow. Killian could see nothing around them for the moment. There was no voice, at first. Then he began to pick up whispers in the white void around them. Esmeralda's ears pricked up to these as well, though Killian could barely see his companion's equine features in the mist.

Their sounds were indistinct, and Killian had no idea what they meant to say. The voices seemed to be speaking with one another rather than to him. He wondered if he should call out to them, to enquire, but he refrained from this nervous behavior. Anyone who was meant to be here would know better than to act like a buffoon. Killian had no intention of embarrassing himself in such a way.

The murky veil began to dissipate a little. Faces and figures were revealed and then lost among the white vapors again. The face of a bear appeared and was gone. An elk turned its head and then vanished. A leopard skittered along a branch near Killian's head before becoming lost to him again.

In all of these appearances, neither Killian nor Esmeralda panicked. He knew they were being tested, as all who wondered through these woods were tested. Some failed the test, while others passed. Those who belonged saw the Priestess of Eliam. However, those who failed did not see another sunrise.

The voices, with their whispering, grew louder. Their tones changed together, becoming urgent suddenly. A command came to him through the fog—a charge that Killian could not resist.

"Speak the words," the voices whispered harshly. This was human speak, but not human voices that commanded him.

Killian, of course, knew exactly the words which these inhuman voices desired to hear. If he did not know them, something terrible would befall him. There would be nothing Esmeralda could do to save him.

"Speak the words," she said now in unison with the voices.

Killian smiled and proclaimed loudly, "Eliam is Creator. Eliam is my sovereign. He reigns eternally."

Instantly, the voices ceased their whispering. The murky veil of fog retreated from Killian and Esmeralda. They were no longer standing in the forest surrounded by trees. Somehow, and Killian had no idea how, they both had been transported from the wood to Eliam's Temple. Its location was unknown. Killian couldn't have found it if he tried. Nevertheless, he and Esmeralda had arrived.

The mist abated continually, leaving stacked stones, moss and flowering vines. The temple bore resemblance to an ancient ruin with incomplete walls and missing ceilings. A present, gentle breeze appeared to have nothing at all to do with the retreating fog.

Killian's eyes found a number of animals—the bear and the leopard, the elk and others congregated among the tumble-down stones and ancient ruin of the structure. They remained as still as statues, watching him. Ahead, upon a dais that appeared to be centuries old, stood a woman with dark skin.

Remembering the woman from his childhood memories, Killian smiled brightly at her. She looked older, perhaps, than she had before. He honestly couldn't make up his mind. Her skin was still very smooth. Her hair was dark and piled upon her head in an intricate weave. A sandy robe hung from her slight frame, descending to the ground without interruption.

Her hands were clasped in front of her. A necklace of beads adorned her throat, overlapping onto her slight chest. She did not smile. She did not even speak.

Killian only grinned wider in recognition. "Shalindra."

### Nightmares and Dreamscapes

Three days passed in relative misery for me after Celia was taken by Mistress Evelyn. Most of my time was spent pining for my friend and reliving the events that had led to her being ripped away from me to live in the Rainier palace as a bond slave to Prince Nathan. My destination, every time I made the journey through my bitter thoughts, was my own guilt. There was no escaping this one conclusion. Through my own rebellion, I had done this to her.

I finished my chores for the day early and found myself walking through the inner courtyard of the abbey. The ancient lichen-covered stones were cool, almost cold, against my bare feet. A coy pond was the central feature in the courtyard where lily fronds danced upon the water stirred by fish playing below the surface.

Brackish water reflected the high flying clouds above me and the few rays of sunlight that peeked through from time to time. I pushed my thoughts toward the coy, desiring them to still their antics. In moments, every ripple from their play had disappeared. The water became as smooth as glass—a mirror finish that I peered into.

There had been times when I saw events unfolding ahead of their actual occurrence. I had never shared this particular gift with my matron, or with any of the other girls at the abbey. I had almost told Celia one time, but I had refrained. Now, I wished I had taken the opportunity.

I sat by the pond, a light breeze playing through the branches of dogwoods rooted among the stones. Pink and white petals drifted by, attempting to settle upon the surface of the water. I brushed them aside with my mind in order to keep the water still.

Peering into the dark, I saw the coy sitting in place, barely moving. They didn't look at me, but they must have felt my connection to them. Otherwise, they would have resumed their previous activity.

I was pulled gently but insistently by my gift of sight through the brackish void. A second later, there was no water. I had journeyed beyond that into a scene unfolding somewhere in time. I couldn't tell if it was past, present, or future—at least, not until the particulars came into focus for me.

I was sitting inside a vehicle of some kind. Almost instantly, I recognized what must be the inside of one of Mistress Evelyn's armored wagons. I did not see Lady Rainier. However, when I turned myself, Celia was sitting upon the opposite bench cushion. She was looking out the curtained window. Bars covered the outside to protect the occupants inside from attack. Knowing the construction of the wagon, I realized that Mistress Evelyn must be riding on the other side of the partition wall at Celia's back.

I attempted to speak to her, but Celia could neither see nor hear me. I was not even a dream to her, not even a ghost. Still, I was comforted somewhat to see her face, despite the trails of tears across her cheeks and her puffy bloodshot eyes. At the very least, she was unharmed.

Then her world turned upside down—literally—as something terrible collided with the side of the wagon and sent it tumbling off the road. I only caught a glimpse of the shock on Celia's face as she attempted to brace herself, but to no avail. She was tossed round and round with the wagon.

My insubstantial spectral form passed through the armored hide of the wagon, leaving me standing on the road to watch the vehicle tumbling away with its side partially caved in. I turned in terror to find a monstrous war elephant standing upon the road wearing armor plate. The beast possessed crimson eyes and a hide as tough as a rhinoceros.

Soldiers shouted commands. There came screaming and death, as arrows flew between Evelyn's guard and the horde of human like creatures that had ambushed Lady Rainier's caravan. Blood spilled over and over again upon the road, pooling at my ghostly feet. Though I saw it all, none of these combatants could see me.

I wished this was only a dream, but I knew enough about my visions to understand how real they were. What I couldn't know yet was whether this vision was in the past, present, or future. It might have happened a day ago. It might have been a few days from then. I had never been able to tell from the visions alone.

The man-like things who attacked Evelyn's caravan shared features with various animals. Some had fur on their bodies. Others had facial characteristics similar to canines, felines and reptiles. Some possessed lithe frames, while others were overly muscled.

I had never seen a Cinderman before, but I had heard the legends. The famous sorcerer Herbert Cinder, five hundred years ago, had combined animals and men during his many experiments, attempting to create a better human being. The monstrosities he created became known as Cindermen.

It had been rumored that some of the great houses actually had pacts with the infamous leader of the Cindermen, Judah. Though this had never been proven, many stories identified Judah and the others as mercenaries for hire to the highest bidder. Great houses seeking muscle against their rivals might have done no better than hiring the kind of horde I found attacking Lady Rainier's armored caravan.

My heart melted within me as the wagon carrying both Mistress Evelyn and Celia tumbled another time and then came to rest upon its side. The axles beneath it were bent, the wheels mangled beyond repair. They could not run now.

I threw up my hands to stop these attackers as they rushed toward the damaged wagon. The Cindermen passed through me unhindered. I had no power to stop what would happen next. In my current state, I could not even cry for my friend.

Men with faces like wolves and lions and snakes approached the battered contraption with their swords and pikes ready. Their shields rested upon their backs. They did not fear the men who guarded the wagon. Evelyn's soldiers, who had been riding on the outside a moment ago, lay upon the road and the ground torn and broken by the metal box on wheels.

Those who came to their lady's aid from the other wagons were dealt with quickly. Swords stabbed through their leather armor. Pikes gouged at their legs from a distance and then were rammed into their middles after they fell to the ground. For all their effort to defend Lady Rainier, they failed miserably against the cunning and prowess of the Cindermen.

They moved like a pride of lions or pack of wolves. Their strategy was superior. Their strength and speed during the fight was overwhelming. I had heard their brutality was beyond compare. If they were acting in the interests of a rival house, then there would certainly be no mercy. Lady Rainier would be either ransomed or killed. Celia, as the intended bond of the prince, could not be allowed to live.

It had to be their knowledge of her presence in this caravan that had triggered the attack. Evelyn could have been attacked at any time before arriving at the abbey. Celia was clearly the intended target. I longed to weep, for that connection with my own body sitting by the fountain. I knew my friend was about to die in my place. I should have been the one in that wagon.

The Cindermen had mortally wounded the human guards surrounding the overturned wagon, but they left most of them alive, writhing in agony upon the ground. The young soldiers cried out for their wounds, looking for help that was not coming. Blood welled around their trembling hands as they attempted to stop the flow of life from their torn bodies. Others, ripped open by Cinderman swords, tried desperately to hold organs and entrails within their bellies. They prayed to their Malkind gods in vain. No one answered them. No spirits came to their aid.

The Cindermen reached Lady Rainier's carriage. Even now, the guards from some of the other carriages attempted to fight their way through the Cindermen without success. The way had been cleared for these to get to the Lady and Celia.

I could do nothing but watch as they rent the doors away with chains attached to one of their war elephants. The pachyderm made quick work of the steel frame. The Cindermen went into the carriage on Evelyn's side, but soon emerged empty-handed. I was shocked to find the Lady missing.

These beastly men were surprised also; though they found Celia easily enough when they went into the other side of the carriage. My young friend was clearly dazed and confused when one of them dragged her out. She didn't even have the awareness left to scream.

Celia stumbled and fell as she was thrust among the Cindermen gathered around the wagon. One of them, having a lion's features, stepped toward her. He grabbed her hair and jerked her head up without pity. I ran to her in my incorporeal form, but I could do nothing but fall to my knees at her side.

She cried out.

The lion-like man pulled a dagger from his belt, holding it aloft for the others to see, and then dragged the blade unceremoniously across Celia's throat. Her pitiful scream was instantly silenced. Her lifeblood issued out onto the ground. I was screaming now, but no one heard me. The Cinderman jerked her head around to make sure Celia was dead. Satisfied, he let go. Her head dropped onto the ground.

I fell beside her, my eyes opened in shock. I could not speak. I could not think. Celia's lifeless eyes stared toward me. I searched them helplessly, but she was gone. Celia was dead.

I should have died in her place. It should have been my blood spilled here upon the dusty ground. By my stubborn questions, I had killed my dearest friend.

Moments later, the scene on the road, where soldiers lay dying and wailing in pain had faded. The Cindermen were still killing the young men when the face of my dead friend vanished. I was left upon the cold, ancient flagstones by the coy pond. The fish jittered and played as they had before my influence had overpowered their natural whimsy.

I couldn't move. My limbs were like great stones, unyielding. I wanted to run, to cry out for help. We had to pursue Lady Rainier's caravan immediately. Perhaps, it was not too late.

However, I did nothing. I could do nothing. My body was still reeling from the scene of carnage and death. Then, all at once, I returned fully to myself.

My chest heaved in deep breaths, and the sobbing began. My tears flowed almost violently. I was drowning in them. I convulsed with the effort of relieving my pent-up sorrow.

Most of the girls were working the vineyard today. There was no one near enough to hear my crying. All that I could not express during the vision flooded forth.

Celia was dead. I already sensed, without reservation, that I had witnessed these events unfold in real time. She had just left me in the world. I was alone.

Killian's face came into my mind. He attempted to console me. I longed for my dream to take real life and comfort me; hold me so that I could cry upon his breast. He would never let me go. He would protect me from the horror I had just witnessed. He would assure me that everything would be all right.

If only he had been real.

### Vanishing Act

The carriages were still burning from flaming-pitched arrows a half hour after the Cindermen retreated. They had fallen upon Lady Rainier's caravan like vultures upon a carcass. The wagons were all but destroyed. Only a very few of the transports had survived the ordeal. Even those that had survived had arrows protruding from them like oversized pin cushions.

As bad as the situation was with the carriages and wagons, the matter was even worse for the men hired by House Rainier to keep its lady safe. Many of the soldiers were now dead, or dying with no hope of a surgeon to save them. It fell upon the survivors to search the ruined caravan for the Lady herself.

Throughout the attack, the survivors had seen no sign of Lady Evelyn Rainier. Her armored carriage had been pummeled by a Cinderman war elephant, but the soldiers never had laid eyes on her and neither had her attackers. From the heap of twisted armor plating only the girl had been discovered by their enemies.

This bond from among the Daughters of Eliam had been dragged from the wreckage, dazed and confused, and put to death by the leader of the Cindermen, a lion-faced brute called Judah. Though none of the soldiers here had seen him before, the stories of the Cinderman chieftain were already legendary. Surely, this beastly man was the same person.

"It was foolish for Lady Rainier to be sent so far without her personal bodyguard," one of the soldiers remarked as they stared at the battered carriage.

Other men kneeled around the young girl. They examined her carefully. Clearly, she was quite dead. There was no salvaging her even by Malkind magic, as far as they could observe.

Another soldier standing near the carriage turned at the remark from the first. His arm was bleeding from a grievous looking wound. A sword had hacked into the meat of his upper arm. Only a torn piece of shirt fabric, taken from a fallen comrade, had slowed the bleeding to something more manageable. Nodding, he said, "Kane would have killed them single-handed. I've personally seen him fight twenty men at once."

The half dozen other guards standing around nodded their agreement with this man's statement. They had all either seen the former assassin in action, or they had heard the stories. No one in Rainier, or any other great house for that matter, was as deadly a man as Kane.

The men were startled from their musing by the creaking of metal coming from the direction of Lady Rainier's armored carriage. The men who still carried weapons raised them in alarm, searching for the source of the noise, hoping the Cindermen had not returned. Inside the half lit carriage, something moved. A door groaned upon warped hinges. An arm was seen, then a leg and another.

Slowly but surely, a figure wearing Lady Rainier's clothing emerged from a compartment beneath the carriage floor. The soldiers were all staring at her dumbfounded when she crawled to the door. They had no idea such a compartment was incorporated into the armored carriage's design.

Evelyn emerged in the carriage doorway, looking every bit as disheveled as her pitiful band of soldiers. There was a bruise upon her cheek and forehead, but no blood. Lady Rainier had survived the attack of the Cindermen.

"Don't just stand their gawping, you fools," she said finally, when none of them moved to assist her. "Help me out of this contraption!"

Her tone snapped them to attention. Instantly, the whole group, as well as the wounded, moved into action, attempting the best way to extricate their mistress from the wreckage of her armored carriage. In moments, they had her out, standing on her own two feet next to the dead body of Prince Nathan's intended bond.

Evelyn sighed heavily but did not speak right away.

One of the higher ranking men among her injured officers—a man wearing leather armor with Rainier's silver crest upon the breastplate—offered his report. "It was the Cindermen, Mistress," he said uneasily.

Most of the survivors understood the implications of the girl's death. House Rainier was now vulnerable. Because of the king's poor health, they stood in need of his heir to ascend to the throne in order to lead and show strength before the other great houses. Otherwise, the throne would be at risk. A war might even erupt among the houses as they vied for position.

Evelyn continued to stare at the girl's dead body. The ground around her was stained with blood.

"My lady?" the officer asked hesitantly. "Your orders?"

She looked at him for the first time now, her expression considerate. "Gather what resources we have left, including as many operable wagons as possible," she said. "We must return as quickly as possible to Rainier."

"Yes, ma'am," the officer replied, preparing to set the other men in motion.

"However," Evelyn continued, "I want your best horse and most capable rider to return to the abbey. Inform the matron of what has happened and instruct her to prepare the oldest girl, Raven, for her journey to Rainier. My son needs a bond in order to ascend to the throne and he will have one."

The officer nodded his understanding. "Yes, my lady," he said. "It will be done as you require."

She turned to another soldier standing next to the officer. "See that my belongings, at least all that are salvageable, are placed into one of the carriages for the trip to Rainier."

"Yes, my lady," he said.

The soldier began to depart with several others in tow before turning again, looking at Celia's body. "Ma'am, would you like us to tend to the girl's body first?"

Evelyn brushed back her straying strands of hair, pausing to look at the body. "A waste of our time, young man," she replied.

"Ma'am?"

"The ravens will tend to the dead," she said. "See to my things, at once. We must be on our way."

The men looked at one another and then obeyed the Lady's wishes. Evelyn did not spare Celia's body another glance. She turned toward what was left of her caravan and walked away.

### Blessings and Prophecy

Killian bent low at the waist before Priestess Shalindra. Even Esmeralda made her best attempt, bowing her head in respect to the woman. Bright green eyes stared back at them. Shalindra nodded ever so slightly, but waited for Killian to begin to speak before suddenly interrupting him.

"Killian, Son of Radden," she said. "I have seen you as you've made your journey to the Brine Wood."

Killian tried not to smile. "Indeed, my lady," he replied respectfully. "My father has sent me with this sword." He removed the bundle from Esmeralda's saddle. "It is his hope that Eliam will bless the blade with special power."

"I know what he hopes," Shalindra said. "The blade is meant for the prince of House Rainier."

Unsure what to say in reply, Killian simply nodded in agreement. Her tone remained devoid of emotion, but something about her words set him on edge. Would she refuse to bless the blade in Eliam's name because of the one who commissioned its creation? He wouldn't have thought so, but now Killian wasn't sure. Something seemed wrong here, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Does it trouble your father that such a Malkind follower as Prince Nathan should receive a blade blessed by Eliam the Creator?" Shalindra asked, now seeming somewhat peeved.

Killian frowned, unsure how to respond. Finally, he said, "All of the great houses are led by Malkind worshippers."

A hint of a smile played at the corners of Shalindra's mouth. There came a twinkle into her eyes. "You're right," she said, "they are."

"But you have blessed other weapons my father has produced," Killian added quickly.

"Not I," Shalindra countered, wagging a finger at him as though correcting a naughty child.

"Then Eliam," Killian replied with a little agitation now. "Eliam blessed each weapon with special power. Surely, he knew each one would go to a Malkind follower."

She smiled openly now. "He did," she confirmed.

Killian paused, feeling a little exasperated by this turn of the conversation. "Then I'm afraid I don't quite understand your point, mistress."

Shalindra nodded approvingly. "You may not be at your destination yet, Killian Radden-son, but at least you've set your foot on the road."

Killian looked at Esmeralda who looked also at him. He sensed the same bewilderment in her that he felt himself.

"What road are you referring to?" Killian asked.

"The road to change," she said, beginning to walk around among the ancient tumbled stones of the temple. "Do you believe in Eliam, child?"

"Of course, I do," he said reverently.

Shalindra grinned as she meandered around a pillar, drawing ever closer to the place where Killian stood beside Esmeralda. "What do you believe _about_ Eliam?" she asked.

Killian paused for a moment and then began to answer with what he had been taught from his youth. "Eliam is the one true God and the Creator of all things. He is all powerful, all knowing and present in every place." When he finished his recitation, he examined his answer and felt satisfied with what he had said. Though odd, it seemed Shalindra was in the mood to test him.

"And the Malkind?" she asked, winding around another pillar of stacked stones.

Killian answered even quicker this time, remembering his mother's lessons with more fluidity now. "The Malkind are created beings. They once served Eliam, but rebelled against him after man was created. They now seek followers from among men and seduce them to worship by the promise of power in the world."

Shalindra came ever closer, now walking directly toward him. "And who, young Radden-son, is the greater between Creator and created?"

Killian paused once more. This wasn't a question that had ever been posed by his mother during their fireside lessons. He glanced at Esmeralda and then returned his attention to the priestess. "Eliam, as Creator, must be greater." He puzzled over the matter again and his answer, finally coming to the conclusion that it wasn't a trick question, but still not comprehending where all of this was leading.

Shalindra stopped in front of him. "Obviously," she said. "So why then does Eliam allow matters with the Malkind to stand as they are in the world?"

To this question Killian had no ready response. He stood there with Shalindra's gaze resting upon him, but he could not answer. In all honesty, he couldn't recall such a question ever entering his thoughts.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Killian shrugged his shoulders. "I cannot say, mistress. Perhaps, you can enlighten me?"

"Eliam has a grand plan that will ultimately end with the judgment and destruction of the Malkind and their followers," she explained. "However, those who follow Eliam will live forever."

"So our lives are a test?"

"In a manner of speaking," she said. " _Perhaps_ , opportunity is a better word. Creation rebelled against its creator, and now we have an open invitation from Eliam to return to him."

Killian nodded thoughtfully, considering Shalindra's explanation. "In that case, I only have one question."

"What would that be?"

"What does this have to do with me coming here to have Prince Nathan's sword blessed by Eliam?"

"Nothing...or everything, depending on you," Shalindra replied.

"I don't understand," Killian answered. "Am I supposed to do something?"

"You will do something. It only remains to be seen what?"

Esmeralda raised her head. "Priestess, with all due respect, what are you speaking of? We do not understand what you are referring to."

Shalindra smiled. "I'm speaking of change that is coming to the world, noble Esmeralda."

"And I'm involved somehow?" Killian asked.

"More than you can imagine."

Before Killian could process her answer, Shalindra raised her hand. The sword lunged from Killian's grasp into hers. He jumped back in surprise. Shalindra only grinned.

Killian regained his composure quickly, watching Eliam's priestess as she examined the sword. Shalindra turned it over in her hands repeatedly, testing the weight and balance. Her gaze roamed over the steel, scrutinizing every intricate detail.

"Excellent craftsmanship, as is usual with Radden," Shalindra finally said. "All this talent and breeding to boot."

"What?"

Shalindra did not repeat her statement. She released the sword from her grip, letting it lay upon her open palms. The blade rose, as though lifted by invisible hands, and then floated across the space between her and Killian. When it reached him, Killian took hold of the weapon. He didn't know what to think of the exchange. The extent of Shalindra's power was unknown to him.

"Interesting," she remarked, watching as the sword returned to Killian. "It has chosen you."

"Chosen me?" Killian asked.

Shalindra nodded. "We shall perform the blessing of power now."

Killian smiled, offering the sword back to her. After all, he had seen the process performed before. Shalindra always held the weapon to be blessed while the short ceremony took place. However, Shalindra held up her hand to refuse his offer.

"I don't understand," he said.

"You will hold on to the sword while it is being blessed," she said.

It was not a request, but her expectation. He couldn't refuse. Otherwise, he might have risked her displeasure and the blessing upon the weapon his father had sent. However, this was highly unorthodox. Still, Killian decided he would trust the priestess. After all, he had absolutely no reason not to trust her.

Her eyes grew fierce, as she began to recite a liturgy taken directly from the Scrolls of Eliam. The wind around them picked up, becoming a gale in seconds. A massive purple thunderhead generated above the temple courtyard.

Esmeralda whinnied in agitation and backed away from Killian. He felt the fear rolling off the animal in waves. That same fear was steadily creeping up his spine. He would have liked very much to retreat with her. However, Killian was no coward. He remained fastened to the spot with the sword held tightly in his hands.

Thunder rolled above them, answering a multitude of lightning flashes that illuminated the darkening sky. Killian had never seen a storm come up so fast. Yet, he knew this must be the work of Eliam and not simply some freak episode of weather.

"Hold the sword aloft in your right hand!" Shalindra cried, breaking out of her recitation.

Killian sucked in a deep breath, having no idea what would happen next but sensing that a climax of sorts was underway. He released the blade with his left hand and thrust the sword skyward with his right. The lightning flashed in response, as though it had been seeking a metal object to strike.

"Do not be afraid!" Shalindra called over the din of wind and thunder. "Say these words and receive Eliam's blessing!"

Though he was trembling, buffeted by the wind, Killian nodded his ascent to the priestess.

"Almighty Eliam, bless this weapon with the power to serve your purposes!" Shalindra intoned.

Killian repeated the words exactly.

"Give this your servant the boldness and courage to do your will in the world and defeat the ways of the Malkind and their followers!" Shalindra continued in a loud voice.

Killian hesitated here. He was unsure what was happening. Somehow, this seemed very dangerous to him. In his mind, questions were popping up like warning signs. These were not the words used in times past for the other weapons sent by his father, or brought personally by Radden.

"Do you believe in your Creator?" Shalindra asked when he did not immediately comply. "Do you seek his blessing this day? Then speak the words!"

Killian pushed past his reservations. His faith being called into question, he courageously proceeded, crying out to Eliam in his strongest voice. "Give this your servant the boldness and courage to do your will in the world and defeat the ways of the Malkind and their followers!"

Immediately, the entire temple courtyard exploded in white light, as several bolts of lightning struck the blade of the sword at once. Killian's vision went white and his ears rang. Then, almost as suddenly, the scene changed.

Killian found himself high above the storm that dominated the Brine Wood and the temple. Even the clouds, white from this vantage point where the sun shone down upon them, were far below. Not even the birds flew so high.

A voice like thunder resounded from sky to sky, a masculine voice like the sound of a river rushing over a waterfall. The language, at first, was indecipherable. Then, as the strange words tumbled through his mind, they became coherent.

"I bestow my blessing upon you, Killian Radden-son," the voice said.

Killian could see only the storm below and stars in a veil of night above, with Titan's sun as the brightest among them. It did not blind him to look upon its tremendous light. He felt no pain and no fear. He knew without thinking that this could only be the voice of Eliam that spoke to him from the heavens.

A thousand questions attempted to break into his thoughts, but they were barred from his conscious mind. Nothing was allowed to intrude upon Eliam's voice and Killian's contemplation of his words. He was everywhere and nowhere.

"You are a chosen vessel unto me to thwart the plans of the Malkind."

Killian desired to speak, but he could not form words. Eliam's voice and his will crashed upon him like the waves of a great sea. His strength fled away. His will was bent like a reed in the wind.

Then his body began to fall toward the surface of the world. He passed into the storm and through the clouds. He realized suddenly that he was riding a bolt of lightning down toward the blade and his own body. He was drawn down impossibly fast, unable to scream as his spirit converged with his mortal form still standing deaf and blind in the same moment when the lightning had struck. Indeed, those bolts of energy had remained frozen in time, until he returned to his body.

Light and heat and pressure returned. He was back in that moment when the lightning hit the sword. The ringing was gone from his ears. In its place was the terrible roar of thunder, overwhelming him.

Killian fell to the ground, blinded by the light. He felt numb over his entire body. In fact, the only sensation was the sword in his hand. He found solace in that knowledge and in the voice, but not in the words. What was said disturbed him. What had Shalindra done, having him ask for that blessing? This lone query remained with him until unconsciousness swallowed him whole.

### A Fate Worse than Death

Days passed, after which a rider from Evelyn's caravan arrived to inform us of the terrible news. Of course, I already knew what ill tidings he bore. He had not brought her body back to the abbey. Having been sent from Evelyn, I was not surprised. She cared nothing for us.

We were not Malkind worshippers, therefore we were not human. In her eyes, we were only pawns in a game. We served their purposes, living as slaves in a palace, but living as slaves nonetheless.

The word from Evelyn was unsurprising news. She expected me to ready myself for the trip to Rainier. Apparently, an escort would be sent from the palace to convey me to Mistress Evelyn and her son. Her visual message yesterday, through the use of her Malkind wand, had confirmed both her safe arrival at the palace and her intention to receive me despite the inconvenient nature of the situation.

I was still not her first choice. That much was clear. In fact, Evelyn had conveyed to Hannah how displeased she was to require my person at all. If there had been another girl near of age and ability, she would have called for them immediately. Unfortunately for her, the matter of the throne and the king's health was dire, and I was her only option.

The terrible irony of the situation was not lost on me. Had I gone in the first place, Celia would still be alive. Upon my death at the hands of the Cindermen, she would have been next in line. She would then have been the one to have Evelyn's own bodyguard sent to escort her to Rainier. I would have been dead in a ditch, and she would have gone on to bond with Prince Nathan under the watch care of Mistress Evelyn. Strangely, it occurred to me to wonder which fate was worse. Perhaps, Celia had been spared a fate worse than death.

My tears had long since dried up. I had spent my days, since that awful vision, crying almost non-stop. Hannah, at first, had chided my sorrow as girlish emotionalism. However, once I had explained my vision, she relented somewhat. She hadn't been entirely sure such a premonition would prove accurate, but she had given me the benefit of the doubt. The rider from Evelyn had only confirmed the details of my story.

I waited for the one who was coming. This Kane person was supposed to escort me safely to the palace in Rainier. I knew less than nothing about the man, but some of the other girls claimed to have heard stories associated with his name.

Apparently, he was considered to be quite fierce; a deadly assassin turned royal protector. I did not bother to ask Hannah anything about Kane. She probably wouldn't have told me anyway. Since the rider had arrived with news of the caravan and Celia's fate, she had been distant. I got the feeling she blamed me for Celia's death.

I couldn't help but agree with her sentiment. I was to blame. Celia had not been ready for this duty to be thrust upon her so suddenly. Like leaves upon a gale wind, we had been able to do nothing to halt the advance of fate.

It was one hour past our evening meal when the bell rang at the main abbey door. Sandra, a female servant, answered the door just as the little bell stopped ringing. A man in black clothing stood tall, like the shadow of a scarecrow on the other side of the threshold.

Sandra gasped, bowing her head when she laid eyes upon him. I gasped also, but did not look away. Like a mouse hypnotized by the gaze of a python, I was transfixed by this person. Without any introduction, I knew already that this man must be Kane.

I noticed for the first time that the sky was overcast outside, beyond the man. Deep purple clouds roiled over the hills in the distance. Lightning illuminated the doorway, framing Kane in otherworldly light, as though the sky had just issued a warning as to the nature of our visitor this evening.

A dreadful feeling of foreboding crept over my skin, raising goose flesh on my arms. A cold tingling sensation ran along my spine. There was something very unnerving about this man; something I could not quite place. He was dangerous without doing a thing to warrant my fear, like an evil shadow knitted to an otherwise ordinary man.

As soon as Sandra stepped out of his way, Kane came through the door. The movement was so unnaturally quick, I barely registered any steps taken. I caught a dying luminescence in his eyes—an amber glow that quickly dissipated—a spirit hiding away within the man.

Instinctively, I quested out toward him with my power, searching to uncover what I had just witnessed. Kane's gaze fixed upon me, as though I had physically touched him. In his eyes, I found a stern rebuke for the intrusion. Instantly, I felt my power rebuffed.

Then something even more unexpected happened. Like the tentacles of an octopus crawling over my flesh, I felt power emanating from Kane. I was seized and held where I stood, put into subjection to whatever dwelt within Evelyn's bodyguard. The sensation was not unlike times when, as a small child, my matron would grab me by the chin and force me to look into her eyes. I was meant to understand who had the real power here. I attempted to resist, but my effort was futile. As quickly as the lesson was taught, the power over me retreated.

My surprise was no doubt evident upon my face. Not only did Kane sense my power, he had the ability to resist it. I had never met a man like this, and I had not yet _formally_ met this one. Still, I knew enough to fear him.

A black cape, more like a cloak of darkness, hung from his broad shoulders down to the floor almost completely obscuring his leather boots. As his cape shifted slightly, I noticed a dark scabbard beneath, holding a weapon that was likely as agile and quick as a darting adder in his hands. Despite the space between us—I stood near the stair beyond the large foyer—I shuddered when he finally spoke.

"You are the girl I have come for," he said, his voice deep but level. His tone was commanding. I knew already that this assassin had not been refused often and never more than once.

I found myself nodding involuntarily, my eyes still locked with his. A slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, his face barely visible beneath the wide brim of his black hat. Sandra's eyes fastened on me, her bottom lip quivering. She may have been as terrified right now as I was.

"I will eat one meal here," he said. "When I have finished, you will be ready to depart this place."

I continued nodding dumbly at him. His words registered on some level, but it was not with my conscious mind. "Yes, my lord," I answered. However, my voice felt like that of another person; out of my control.

I noticed Hannah standing just behind me. "Of course, my lord," she said. "Cook will prepare you our finest. Sandra, escort our distinguished guest to a room at once where he may refresh himself after his journey."

Sandra snapped to attention instantly, shutting the door behind Kane. As she passed before him again, she addressed him in a trembling but respectful voice. "If you'll follow me, sir?"

He turned his gaze finally from mine and followed Sandra toward the dining room. As I exhaled heavily, I realized I had been holding my breath the entire time. Hannah was still behind me, drawing near as I turned to her.

"Be sure you're ready before Kane finishes his meal," she said sternly.

I began to protest, but Hannah's hand came up to silence me. "We'll have none of that," she said. "I've already lost favor with Mistress Evelyn once, and we lost Celia—all because of your stubbornness."

My mouth closed tight. The matter with Celia still stung like an open wound. However, Hannah was not one to be trifled with. She knew all that had happened. I really was to blame.

I lowered my eyes in shame and nodded my agreement. "I will be ready," I managed in a submissive tone.

I stalked away down the main hall, leaving my matron behind to ponder the quickest way to appease our guest without anyone in the abbey getting killed. The other girls appeared from their rooms, staring at me as I marched past them, heading toward my own room. They did not say what was on their minds.

Everyone knew that Evelyn's rider would come to escort me to Rainier. It had only been a matter of time. Only a week ago, Celia had left the abbey for the capital city, riding with an armored caravan and Mistress Evelyn herself. Now, she was dead. The girls I was leaving behind were no doubt wondering what fate would befall me upon the road to Rainier, escorted by only a single bodyguard.

I opened the door to my room and walked inside. I was too paralyzed by fear to bother with thought transmission. Instead, I simply closed the door manually. That alone testified to my state of mind. If only my Killian had been real. If only he could have saved me from the terrible fate that awaited me in Rainier with Evelyn and her son, Prince Nathan.

I looked around the room, attempting to think of anything I must have on my journey, anything from my life at the abbey that I could not do without. Nothing came to mind. After all these years, I had nothing worth saving from my time here.

My gaze wandered to the fire burning in the grate. In those flames I became lost, hypnotized by the dancing red and yellow colors. I saw Killian's face there. I longed to walk into the heat of the fire and embrace him, find comfort in him; even escape with him. How could a dream seem so real?

By the time I tore my gaze from the blaze heating my quarters, tears were rolling down my cheeks. This was the only home I had ever known. It hadn't been much of a home, but I had had Celia for a time. With her gone, there was nothing precious to leave behind. I packed a few clothes in a satchel; something light and easy to carry on horseback.

I spent what seemed like only minutes collecting myself and my meager belongings, escaping my fantasy with Killian. However, when I returned to the foyer, Kane was already waiting for me; his black hat still seated upon his head. He turned toward the main door of the abbey, while Hannah and the girls looked on. Sandra was not by the door to open it, but it opened anyway.

Kane's eyes fixed upon me, and I saw that same spectral light emerge once again. Something was inside this man's mortal body, something that was far more powerful than anything I had experienced before. The same fear and foreboding as before came over me.

Kane gestured toward the open door. Beyond, storm winds blew and the dark clouds had only grown more ominous in their appearance. There was no rain; at least not yet.

"After you, my lady," he said icily.

He was toying with me, like a cat with a mouse that it's not quite ready to devour. I swallowed hard and nodded, turning toward the door. I didn't look back at Hannah or the girls. I preferred to remember each of them in other settings and situations. I would be terrified by my time with Kane. I didn't need their terror-stricken faces added to the mixture of thoughts already swirling in my mind.

I walked toward the storm brewing outside. Twilight awaited me at midday. The winds whipped my dark hair around my face. I passed over the threshold and felt Kane's presence—or at least the presence of whatever indwelt him—very near behind me. My eyes closed as the door shut behind us.

His black stallion waited upon the drive ahead. No one attended the animal. I sighed heavily. My life at the abbey had come to an end. Prince Nathan and a life enslaved to his wishes as his bond awaited me in Rainier; providing I actually made it to the palace alive. As I took steps toward the road and the midnight black animal before me, with Kane at my back, I almost wished for the likes of Judah and his Cindermen to find us in the way and put me out of my coming misery.

### Brewing Trouble

When Killian finally revived, he was no longer at the temple within the Brine Wood. Shalindra was not present; only Esmeralda beneath him. Her gate was steady and plodding. She did not speak openly as she had at the temple. Yet, Killian could feel her emotional emanations like sweat from her skin.

He raised his head, troubled by what he sensed from her equine mind. She seemed to be a blank slate at the moment. Other than her dogged determination to take them back into the capital city of Rainier, he could find no other thoughts.

"Esmeralda?" he said.

Almost instantly, she stopped upon the road. Thoughts, emotions, ideas and fears began to generate in her mind; almost as if a switch had been thrown. Her mind was returning to her quickly now. One of her first realizations was confusion. How did she get here? Was that Killian speaking to her? What had happened to the temple, the Brine Wood, and the priestess, Shalindra?

"I'm here, Esmeralda. It's me," he said.

_How did we get here?_ was the question on her mind. She could no longer voice the questions in a human tongue—not outside the near vicinity of Eliam's temple in the Brine Wood. She gave off some frustration over the loss of the ability. In her mind, it was only a moment ago that she was experiencing the freedom of communication that came with dwelling near the priestess.

"I only woke a moment ago," Killian explained. "I thought you might be able to tell me what happened, but I guess that isn't the case."

Esmeralda shook her head.

"I suppose Shalindra has set us upon the road again," he surmised. "We must be meant to head back to the city then."

Killian turned round, searching for the sword his father had sent with him. It was nowhere to be found. Esmeralda turned her head to help him and stopped quickly. She snorted at him, drawing his attention.

"What is it?" he said, placing a hand upon her neck to aid in communication.

Her thought directed him to look over his shoulder. Killian did so and found an unexpected surprise. The sword and scabbard were strapped onto his back.

He sat for a moment, wondering why Shalindra might have sent him away with the sword this way. What was going on? He shouldn't be wearing the sword. This weapon was meant for Prince Nathan in Rainier, not the son of a bladesmith.

The charge made to him by Shalindra and the oath he made in order to receive Eliam's blessing came to mind. It had been then that everything happened. Even now, thinking about the experience made him feel light-headed.

"Oh no, Esmeralda," Killian groaned, shutting his eyes in frustration. "What have I done?"

The horse made a non-committal noise.

"This sword belongs to the prince, and I've taken an oath before Eliam to use it to fight against the Malkind and their followers! I must be out of my mind. Father is going to kill me!"

Esmeralda snorted out her displeasure.

"Easy for you to say," Killian complained. "You're not the one who has to explain taking an oath and receiving a blessing with our future king's sword!"

Esmeralda nickered in reply, shaking her head.

"It's not one bit funny," Killian said, scolding her. "What am I going to do?"

Esmeralda did nothing in reply at first, then he sensed something she wanted him to remember; something about the blessing of Eliam upon the other weapons his father had brought to Shalindra in times past.

Killian considered her response. Then he remembered the process. Something was required in order to complete any weapon with Eliam's blessing. "That could be it!" he shouted. "The blood is required! I could just do nothing. I'll take the sword back like nothing out of the ordinary happened—a blessing was given after all—and when the prince takes possession of the blade, no one will be the wiser. His blood will be added during the bonding ceremony. When he takes his bond and the weapon, they will draw his blood upon the blade and bind it to him as well."

Esmeralda shook her head in a frustrated manner and began to walk them down the road toward the city.

"It will work," Killian said, partly to her and partly to convince himself. "It has to work."

Night had nearly fallen by the time Killian and Esmeralda returned to the city. They barely made it through the gate before all traffic entering the wall was stopped for the evening. His mark of patronage helped him to squeeze through despite many others offering money who never made it past the Eastern Gate.

His family's standing was honored anywhere in the kingdom. The guards knew better than to dishonor someone of higher rank in the social order. A position guarding one of the city gates might not have been glamorous, but it was better than having to dwell outside the wall in the Mud Districts with the rest of the Third Order Commoners.

Killian and Esmeralda made a bee line for the Mangy Cur Inn. With night falling and a weary journey only half remembered behind them, they both were much in need of sustenance and rest. Yeager's inn appeared to be quiet tonight which seemed a bit odd. Still, things were not always hopping, so he dismissed the lack of revelry and made his way back to the stables. Esmeralda was only too eager to be handed over to the stable boys. They lined her a stall with fresh straw and placed a feed bag on her muzzle with a generous helping of oats to sate her grumbling belly.

Killian bid her goodnight, taking the sword with him still strapped to his back in the finely crafted scabbard he had fashioned for the prince. He drew the hood of his cloak back as he made his way into the inn, opening the door to find only half the number of patrons he might have expected. Those faces he recognized, seemed on edge. Even Yeager's drink couldn't cheer them up this evening.

Then Killian noticed a group of men seated near the back of the room at tables drawn near to one another. These men had the look of soldiers, but the dress of commoners. They bore weapons on their persons and leaned nearby against the wall and beside their chairs. They were the only ones laughing inside the inn.

"Mercenaries," Killian whispered to himself.

He had seen mercenaries before. Everyone had seen them. They didn't exactly hide what they were when they entered a city, town or establishment. In fact, they were more likely to broadcast their occupation in order to illicit the kind of fear they feed on. People who were afraid tended to be more compliant with their wishes. Those who weren't, became examples to the others after a beating or two.

Killian looked around the room once more. Fear was evident upon every face. They avoided eye contact, keeping their heads down so as not to draw attention to themselves.

He watched Yeager at the bar. He looked nervous, and he was staring at Killian. Killian walked over to the bar, saying nothing, but listening to the noisy group of mercenaries as they carried on about another round of drinks.

Wendy emerged from the kitchen on that side of the room. Cheers went up from the mercenaries' tables. Killian watched as hands attempted to grope the barmaid as she passed. Wendy was used to such advances from patrons and she normally handled it with the kind of saucy attitude that curbed unwanted advances, but these men are different. They didn't take _no_ for an answer.

Killian gritted his teeth in anger. As soon as Wendy left the drinks on the table, two of the mercenaries took her by the arms to pull her back toward them. Killian saw the fear in her eyes as her gaze landed upon his face. That was all he could take. Wendy was a friend, and he was not going to allow her to be treated this way.

"Hey!" Killian called out, silencing cheers from the mercenaries as they realized someone had challenged them.

Killian stepped out around the bar into plain view. The two mercenaries holding Wendy's arms did not relent. Killian's hand flew to the pommel of the sword upon his back.

Yeager appeared around the bar, stepping between Killian and the mercenaries, his hand pressing Killian's chest to stop him. Wendy's father turned his attention on the mercenaries. "Let her go!" he demanded. "That's my daughter. If you can't behave yourselves, I'll summon the constables. I'm a well-respected businessman. They'll put you out of the city on my say-so."

Killian watched as the mercenaries ranged through several emotions before finally turning Wendy free of their grip. "Scrawny girl isn't worth spoiling our good time," one of them said.

This man commanded their attention and the others listened. Killian wondered if he might be the leader of this band of rogues. His hair was a bit neater than the others. His eye patch also set him apart and the knife blade that stood in place of his left hand.

Wendy was set loose and immediately made her way to Killian's side. She looked pleased that he had come to her rescue. Her father continued to stare, until the leader forced his men to stand down.

"Your business is appreciated, gentlemen," Yeager offered. "That round is on the house. We don't want any trouble here."

None of the mercenaries spoke, but their angry glares said it all for them. They weren't happy. Killian couldn't care less about their happiness. He released the pommel of the blessed sword on his back, only realizing now what weapon he was about to use on these men.

His hand recoiled then. Surely, he hadn't been about to use Prince Nathan's blade. He had better be more careful with his future king's sword and his own temper.

Yeager and Killian and Wendy returned to the front of the bar, Yeager making his way all the way around to stand at his usual post. Wendy kissed Killian on the cheek, smiling brightly at him. She didn't care that her father was watching. Everyone knew she had taken a fancy to Killian anyway.

"You deserve more than that, but it will have to wait until later," Wendy whispered to Killian.

He grinned. "That will do," he said. "I wouldn't take advantage of your hospitality so unfairly."

"I wouldn't mind," she pouted and then trailed away into the kitchen. "I'll bring you something to eat."

"Your usual room?" Yeager asked.

Killian nodded. "Can you have Wendy bring the food up, when it's ready?"

Yeager cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

Killian started at the look. "Never mind," he said, "I'll just wait on it and take it up myself."

Yeager nodded and went back to drying freshly washed glasses on the bar top. Killian sighed. He didn't want to upset Yeager over his daughter's virtue, or lead Wendy on. Despite her advances, he really did only consider her a friend. He didn't want her to get any more ideas about their relationship than she already had. The ones she had already were enough.

The mercenary group toned down their conversation. The leader's lone eye remained fixed upon Killian. He watched the man cautiously from the bar, until Wendy appeared with a tray of bread, cheese and sliced beef and a pitcher of wine with a tankard on the side.

All of it was the finest the Mangy Cur had to offer—Killian was quite sure. Wendy never left him with second best. Killian smiled, acknowledging in his own mind that having Wendy's affection wasn't all bad. She really was a sweet girl, just not the one for him.

He took his tray in hand, leaving Yeager with a nod and Wendy with a pleased smile. She touched his arm, her doe eyes fixed upon his face. It was not the flirtatious look she usually reserved for him.

"Thank you, Killian," she said quietly.

He grinned and bowed his head slightly in deference. "My pleasure, my lady," he said. "Anything for such a friend as you."

She nodded solemnly. Evidently, her experience with the mercenaries had shaken her a bit more than she had let on a moment ago. He couldn't blame her. Mercenaries were not the kind of men that people usually stood up to, even inside the city walls. Most would have simply allowed a girl like Wendy to be abused by them, or worse, without ever saying a word to stop them.

"On my tab?" Killian asked.

"It's on the house," Yeager said without looking up from the tankard he was drying with a cloth.

Killian paused to consider. Yeager wasn't the kind to give away his services easily.

The bar keeper glanced up. "Call it a _hero_ discount."

Killian nodded and turned for the stair. He caught a glance at the mercenary leader again. The man was still staring at him, while the others caroused and reveled in their stories and their wine. However, the leader's one eye never left him, even as he turned his back to the man and made his way up to the same room where he always stayed when visiting the Mangy Cur.

### Screams in the Night

We had ridden for hours into the night, the wind howling around us as Kane pushed his black stallion to the breaking point of any normal animal. Still, his steed went on faithfully. Foam gathered at the beast's mouth, but it would not stop; not until he allowed.

I did not know the hour, though it couldn't be near dawn yet. By the moon's position in the night sky, I surmised that it must be a few hours past midnight. I wanted to stop, but I didn't dare to ask. Kane's hard body sat like a rock wall behind me in the saddle. He might have been thin-framed, but he possessed a seemingly limitless strength. I could only guess how much of this was due to the spirit dwelling within him.

My bladder, though empty when we left the abbey, was almost to the point of bursting now. I had tried to hang on to my composure, imagining what dreadful consequence might befall me for interrupting Kane's relentless pace toward Rainier and his queen. However, all of the constant jostling and bouncing had taken its toll, and I could no longer contain my need.

"We must stop!" I cried out.

Kane did not reply. I heard only the slightest hint of a noncommittal grunt from behind my left ear. He meant to ignore me, I was sure. That simply would not do.

"I must be allowed to relieve myself! I cannot go any further!"

Kane reluctantly pulled back some on the reins. The stallion began to slow its pace substantially, until we were moving only at a canter and then a walk. He pulled back again, and the horse came up short upon the road.

Our dusty wake, finally able to catch up, now billowed around us, creating a choking cloud. I did my best not to cough. Kane didn't react to it at all.

I didn't like having to speak so indelicately; especially in front of a man, but I had been left with little choice in the matter. Besides, I was fairly certain that proper etiquette wasn't high on the list of a man like Kane. He was a trained killer; a man of blood. What difference could it make to him?

I waited a moment and felt Kane's sigh on my neck. "Well?" he asked impatiently.

I took this as permission to dismount and began to move my right leg over to my left side, using the left stirrup as an anchor to keep from both falling and kicking Kane across the chin in the ungraceful process of extricating myself from the saddle. He did me the courtesy of at least supporting my arm as I worked my way down. I'm quite certain this was only to keep from having to answer to Mistress Evelyn for any injuries I might incur, should I fall.

Once on the ground, I immediately had a sense of freedom, though Kane was staring down at me from the stallion. The horse, too, had its dark eyes upon me, letting me know that running wasn't an option. Though Kane didn't say so, I had the feeling that he might relish the chase and find ways to punish me that Evelyn would never know about.

I pushed the urge to flee from my mind and wearily made my way to a nearby tree just off the road where I could at least somewhat privately relieve myself. My legs were terribly sore from our journey so far. I was unaccustomed to the saddle, the pace, and my unpleasant company. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. I was quite sure Evelyn would rather see me delivered worn but safely alive than pampered and dead on the side of the road at the hands of Judah's Cindermen.

Kane remained in the saddle, at least until I had finished my business behind the tree. When I emerged again, straightening my coat over the breeches I had worn for riding, I found the assassin seated next to a bundle of branches. I had no idea how this setup came to be. Only a moment ago, he was still in the saddle, confidently peering down upon my makeshift privy.

The assassin stared at me. The other light brightened in his eyes; the measure of the spirit dwelling in the man. Almost immediately, the bundle of branches next to him burst into flame.

My eyes darted toward the small explosion of fire and then back to Kane. A wicked grin crossed his face. I could feel the spirit staring out of him. I wanted to ask how he had done this, but I felt that I already had my answer. I was afraid to hear him say it; afraid to hear that one of the Malkind was there inside his body. I believed they existed, had always believed it, but to be faced with a physical manifestation was entirely different.

"Sit down and take your rest for now," Kane said in a raspy baritone voice.

I felt the urge to obey his command; not out of fear exactly, but by some press upon my will. I could only assume that this must be from the mysterious spirit's influence. I did not attempt to resist. There was no use starting a conflict over such a simple demand as sitting down.

Truth be told, I would have liked nothing better than to have a good rest. We had drank water already along the way and had eaten bits of food from Kane's saddlebags, but rest from the journey was one thing he had not afforded me all evening. I sat down gratefully, wincing slightly as my sore posterior met the ground.

I thought, perhaps, that I might possess power and will enough to resist this spirit. I could have possibly fought for my life, if it became necessary, but what would that gain me now? Where would I have gone? To live in the wilderness as some wild woman? Back to the abbey only to have Evelyn send her servants for me once again?

The Queen was desperate for a bond for her son and heir to the throne. Without me, House Rainier stood in terrible straits with the other great houses bearing down upon their necks. She had to have me safely bonded to Prince Nathan, or give up the throne and the right to rule.

I couldn't do anything about this now. Fighting would have been futile. I would have gained nothing. Truth be told, I also believed that I deserved this fate. My fighting against the system, so to speak, was exactly what had cost my dear friend her life.

Kane produced no food, or drink, only the fire to keep us warm in this small clearing next to the road. He shut his eyes and lowered his head, hiding his face beneath the wide brim of his hat. I sighed, but this produced no response. Defeated and tired, I also closed my eyes.

I woke to a different place than where Kane and I had stopped to rest. I was standing outside of what appeared to be some sort of tavern or inn. The hour was late—the same hour as when I closed my eyes, according to the position of the stars and moon. There didn't appear to be anyone out on the streets.

The sign above the door of the establishment directly before me read, The Mangy Cur. I had never been to this place before, but I did notice the massive wall of the city beyond. Could this have been the capital city of House Rainier that I was seeing?

As with earlier visions, I saw myself as I was, yet in an incorporeal form that was invisible to others. There were real people here, not merely dreams. I was not even that much to them.

I felt the urge to go into this place, yet I knew for certain that there was danger ahead. Still, I had to go in order to understand why I was here at all. There was always a purpose to the visions—to show me something that I needed to know. Dreams were completely different for me. I was not in the real world in dreams, as I was now. They were chaotic and distorted. This was real, even if it was some place other than where my body rested near Kane.

I walked toward the door. Horses could be heard in the stalls behind the tavern, making me think it must also be an inn. I did not open the door, but passed through the wall like a specter. I had already had the experience of trying to touch objects in this form. My insubstantial essence had no effect on my surroundings in the real world.

I was immediately drawn to an unfolding scene inside. The hour being late, there were no patrons in the taproom. The person I saw might have been the proprietor, or simply the barkeep. He was on his knees, pleading quietly with another man wearing an eye patch. Eye Patch happened to be holding a young woman on her knees before him. He held a knife to her throat. No, I was wrong about that. The knife was his hand.

A barmaid perhaps? I had no way of knowing until the man's pleading gave me the clue. She was his daughter. He didn't want her to die. He was willing to do anything to prevent it happening.

A band of rogues, clustered around them, laughed quietly, as though they had no desire to wake the patrons who were sleeping peacefully upstairs. All of the men had weapons on their persons ready for use at the slightest hint of provocation. But there was only the man and his daughter here now.

The man gave up the number _seven_. I could only assume that this number corresponded to one of the rooms upstairs. Eye Patch motioned for his men to move off. Half a dozen left the main tap room, heading upstairs with their weapons ready to draw blood.

The man asked for his daughter to be released.

"I can understand your concern, Yeager," Eye Patch said. "With men like me and mine roaming about, you worry that your young daughter will fall prey—that we might abduct her and ravish her before your eyes."

The other men chuckled at the idea. However, I could see the lust in their eyes. They would have approved of that plan.

"But don't worry yourself," Eye Patch said in consoling tones. "She won't be ravished by any man ever again."

I gasped in unison with the girl's father as the man said the words. A moment later, the knife was drawn across her pale, exposed throat. Crimson splashed across the front of her dress and onto the wooden floorboards. Her father wailed for only a second before the same was done to him by one of the other men.

They left the bodies beside one another, bleeding out onto the floor. Eye Patch and the few remaining rogues followed the others up the stairs toward the guest rooms. I remained for a moment, staring down at the bodies, lamenting the cruelty I had just witnessed. I could not help but be reminded of Celia's recent death at the hands of the Cinderman leader, Judah.

I felt the urge to follow these men up the stairs toward room number seven. I left the bodies of the young girl and her father and followed Eye Patch. He wiped the blood from the girl's throat onto a cloth found on a table as he passed and then discarded the stained thing. He then removed his sword from the scabbard on his back, giving him two edged weapons to work with.

The entire band, plus me, skulked along the lamp-lit corridor where adjacent rooms held the sleeping patrons of the Mangy Cur. Little did they realize the dangerous pack of villains that were stalking just outside their doors. Yet, Eye Patch and his crew appeared to be interested in only one particular room and its occupants.

The men ahead of the leader—assuming Eye Patch was their leader—waited outside room number seven. The one-eyed man gestured with a nod of his head for his men to enter. The door apparently had no lock. They stole inside as quietly as mice on a midnight cupboard raid.

My incorporeal body glided inside behind them. None of the men noticed my presence. The room was sparsely furnished; nothing fancy by any means. A single table with a chair stood next to the wall opposite the bed. Upon the chair, I noticed a sword and scabbard slung over the back.

The hilt was made of silver bound with a very dark green cord. The craftsmanship was exquisite. The leather bound scabbard complimented the design perfectly. The weapon looked so out of place here in this upper room at the Mangy Cur that I couldn't help but wonder who this man was that these rogues wished to kill. The sword could have belonged to a nobleman, or even the king himself.

Eye Patch's men fanned out in the room all around the bed of the sleeping stranger. I could see from my place standing near the table that this was a young man. The men in the room hardly breathed as they raised their weapons in readiness. Eye Patch licked his lips and grinned. In a moment, they would fall upon this young man and slice his body to ribbons with their swords. Eye Patch had both his sword and his knife hand ready for blood.

I had no way to warn the sleeping young man. No cry from me would do the least bit of good, nor did I have any power to stop these men from their ruthless deed. I did not know why they meant to do him harm, but I did feel drawn to look upon the young man more closely.

In an instant, I came to his bedside. His back was turned to me momentarily. Then the young man became restless, causing Eye Patch and his band to halt upon the precipice of action. Had he woken to their movements? No, he was simply turning in his bed due to some dream in the night.

As he rolled in my direction, his face happened into a shaft of moonlight coming through his window. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of him. He was beautiful; the child of a god dwelling among men. If my ghostly form could have breathed, that respiration would have halted upon the instant as recognition dawned upon my mind.

This was no stranger that Eye Patch and his band of villains stood ready to slaughter upon his bed. He was a vision; no more than a dream. But this was impossible. This was one of the visions I had from time to time. They always showed me truth; never fantasy or fancy. Still, how could it be true?

The young man upon the bed inside room number seven at the Mangy Cur was my own love from my dreams. Killian slept here under my gaze. He was the man these others meant to slay.

It wasn't until I heard the order from Eye Patch that I snapped back to the reality of this situation. My mouth opened and I screamed to warn the man of my dreams of his impending doom. Yet, I knew that warning couldn't be heard.

I started awake back at the makeshift camp that Kane had setup before I fell asleep. I was still screaming, and my voice was very real here. As I realized where I was again, my cry faded away. Kane's black stallion was still grazing nearby, but the assassin was nowhere to be found.

### Unwelcome Guests

Killian couldn't help but be charmed by the beautiful young raven-haired girl every time he found her in his dreams. She was rapturous to his soul. If only such a girl truly existed! He would have given all that he had to make her his own young bride.

Another night, and she had come to him again, beguiling him with magical eyes. They changed color, matching whatever color gown she happened to be wearing upon her visit to his mind. Her smile ensnared him—he was caught like a trout upon a fisherman's hook. There was no getting away, neither could he muster any desire to leave her.

The touch of her skin was like silk beneath his calloused fingers. Hands that worked at shaping wood and steel caressed her face, but she did not recoil from his touch. Instead, she swooned beneath his fingertips, trembling in his arms.

They danced together in a ballroom adorned by stars and night sky. Together, they floated upon a cloud, turning to music that had no discernible origin, yet it filled every space. They had only one another in this place. One another was all either of them desired.

However, something in the atmosphere between them suddenly shifted. The music in the air became dark and dissonant. The raven-haired girl looked suddenly distressed. Killian held her at arm's length, examining her face.

Her expression was puzzled and unsettled. She looked into his eyes, just before those eyes grew wide with sudden horror. A scream ushered from her lips, startling him from their revelry together.

"Killian, wake up!"

Killian heard the voice in his mind, shouting for him to come awake. There was danger around him. The girl of his dreams was definitely trying to warn him of something.

Suddenly, he was sitting bolt upright in his bed at the Mangy Cur. The room was dark, but another voice still resonated. Those words conveyed an intention that forced Killian into action.

"Kill him," he heard that voice say in the dark.

There came movement from every direction at once. Killian scrambled among the covers of his bed, trying to extricate himself from the tangled web of sheets and blankets threatening to bind him for his enemies and make him easy prey. Blades flashed in the dark as shafts of moonlight from the single window glinted upon steel.

Killian's hand stretched out unconsciously, almost as if under its own compulsion. He felt a pull upon his arm and then a release of that pressure, like something suddenly giving way. He realized something—a knife perhaps—had lacerated his flesh. A single moment later, the blade fashioned by his father for their future king flew across the room, landing in his outstretched palm. He pulled the weapon from its handmade scabbard. The sharp burn upon his arm was immediately lessened greatly by the sword in his hand.

He gripped the weapon gratefully and then surrendered to his instincts. Killian was a fighter. He had trained with the weapons in his father's shop since he was old enough to bear their weight. He had never killed a man, but he certainly knew how it was done.

The sword moved almost of its own will, yet his body felt connected to it. It seemed to Killian like his mind was joined with the mind of the sword—they two had become one in movement, one in purpose. He became aware of his own hot blood running down his arm, across his hand, onto the sword. He panicked inwardly at this revelation, knowing the ritual and what might happen.

A tingle ran up his arm when his blood fell upon the steel. The arm became suddenly numb, yet the blade was still moving against the men in the dark room, battling them despite Killian's present preoccupation with his arm. A moment later, another man was dead upon the floor, and the feeling in his arm returned.

The burning pain of his wound was gone. His arm felt whole again; unmarred and stronger than ever. Killian could only attribute this to the sword's influence.

Another man cried out in the dark and fell to the wooden floor. Throughout the melee, no one else came into the room. Surely, Yeager could hear all of the commotion. Considering the fear upon the faces of the Mangy Cur's patrons earlier this evening, Killian was not surprised to find a lack of help from any people staying in the other rooms. But Yeager would have been a different matter.

Orders were shouted, and Killian wondered who these men were. Another fell. Only seconds had passed since the girl in his dream had screamed out a warning to wake him from his slumber.

Steel struck steel again and again. Two more men went down. Killian leaped over one of the bodies, heading for the last moving shadow in the room. The floor was littered with corpses. The man hurled his sword at Killian, but even in the dark he batted it harmlessly away.

The man hulked in the doorway, but his face was hidden in darkness. Killian turned his blade in the moonlight shining through the window, casting a beam of moonshine upon the man's face. Besides the ugly visage, Killian was struck by the clearly defined eye patch the man was wearing.

"You!" Killian shouted.

Eye Patch growled at him, but then turned from the fight and crashed through the meager door to Killian's room, charging into the hall. Killian ran after him, but the man was surprisingly agile. Eye Patch descended the stair in two bounds and raced out across the taproom and through the Mangy Cur's front door, nearly knocking it off its hinges in the process.

Killian paused in his pursuit at the base of the stairs. A trail of blood was clearly visible, leading back behind the bar into the kitchen area. Killian swallowed against the lump gathering in his throat, knowing he must investigate. He feared what he would find.

Tenants in the rooms upstairs began to stir, causing the floorboards above to creak and moan. They had heard most of the noise subside and were coming now to investigate the scene. Killian ignored them, instead following the crimson trail before him.

Walking behind the bar and into the kitchen, he stopped when he saw the bodies of his dear friends. Both Yeager and Wendy lay dead upon the floor with their throats cut. Killian sank to his knees, the sword digging into one of the floorboards. He gripped the pommel tightly as tears welled in his eyes.

His breaths came in gasps through gritted teeth as his fury gathered within him. Behind him, tenants appeared behind the bar, looking into the kitchen. Exclamations were made and then accusations.

"He killed Yeager and his daughter!"

Killian whirled round on them. "I did nothing of the kind." He stood to his feet, holding the sword forth. "The blood on this blade belongs to the mercenaries who threatened Yeager's daughter earlier. Their bodies are upstairs, but the leader—the one with the eye patch and one hand—has escaped."

Nods of ascent came from a few of the patrons who happened to be in the taproom when Killian had challenged the mercenaries and Yeager had ordered them to back down. "I saw those men earlier bothering Wendy," one of the men said.

Killian walked through the half dozen men and women gathering at the bar. "See to their bodies," he said. He assumed they would do as he commanded. "I'm going to make sure their leader pays for this."

Killian walked through the taproom in a daze—his rage burning hot within him, tears streaking his bloodstained cheeks. He pushed the door open and walked through into the street beyond. There was no sign of Eye Patch. He was probably long gone. Still, someone had to know where to find the man.

A siren call issued forth from the Mangy Cur. Every business and many well-to-do homes had these installed in case of emergency. The king's guard patrolling the streets of Rainier would respond within minutes. It was their sworn duty to the king and his citizens. Because of this procedure, Rainier had one of the lowest crime rates in any of the cities of the great houses.

Killian did not wait for the soldiers. He ran to the horse stalls behind the inn, finding Esmeralda now awake and agitated by the siren wailing from the top of the Mangy Cur. Killian made haste. He still carried the leather bound scabbard in his other hand and now sheathed the sword again. As the blade went in, he noticed by the lamplight that the blood of the mercenaries was now gone from the steel.

With no time to solve such a minor mystery now, he slung the scabbard over his shoulder, found Esmeralda's saddle and prepared her for their departure. Moments later, he heard the sound of soldiers approaching the inn. As they piled into the Mangy Cur, he and Esmeralda tore away through the street, parting an increasingly growing crowd of concerned citizens who had gathered at the alarm call.

He had no time for questions from soldiers. He could not be detained. He still had Eye Patch to find and other matters to deal with before delivering this blessed sword to Prince Nathan. The chief problem now was how to unbind a sword blessed by Eliam after his own blood had bound the blade to him.

I had no idea what had become of the assassin, Kane. Surely, he wouldn't have left his horse behind. That he might actually have been killed seemed the most impossible thing of all, especially when I had been left unharmed sitting in this clearing. So, where was he, and what should I do now?

Killian was real? This astonishing thought broke into my mind, overriding my present predicament. It was impossible, and yet my visions had never lied to me before. I couldn't understand it. Had I been dreaming of a real young man all this time? What if he also had been dreaming of me? It seemed preposterous, but I couldn't let go of that thought.

And what of his dilemma? If Killian was real then he was in terrible danger. Men were trying to kill him. I had to do something. I had to try. The man of my dreams—the only love I had ever known, even if it was in a dream—might die tonight. I could not stay there.

Moments ago, I had been resigned to my fate. I would have become the bond of Prince Nathan; a slave to him and his queen for life. I would have been used for my abilities as a daughter of Eliam and, at his discretion, for my body. A concubine—unloved, a pawn, a toy, a possession—but nothing more. I had been resigned to my fate, but now I had seen Killian alive in the real world facing real danger, possibly in the city of Rainier.

But what could I do to help him? My resolve hardened within me. I had power. I was a daughter of Eliam. He had given me my power and my visions. Surely, it was his will that I not only understand that Killian was real, but that I also try to save him. And, if it was the will of Eliam for me to try, then I would also succeed.

I took a last glance at the black stallion. It raised its head to me from the tufts of grass it had been grazing greedily upon. My eyes narrowed. It cocked its head, almost as if it couldn't believe my attempting what I was about to do. I did it anyway, bolting out of the clearing through the bushes and away into the night as fast as my legs would carry me. I heard equine protests following me, but I ignored the animal. If I had my way, I would be far away before it could alert the assassin of my escape.

The moon lit my way, but my path took me through brambles and briars and trees of various sizes—all of them attempting to bar my escape. I realized that I must be making a terrible ruckus in the process, but I didn't care. Killian was real and he needed me.

I paused, exhausted, and took stock of myself. My clothing was torn in places, and my hair was pulled and tangled. My breathing was rapid; my heartbeat racing.

I realized now that, in my panic, I was doing this the hard way. I slowed my breathing and attempted to calm down. I was a Daughter of Eliam, after all. I had abilities that most people did not. It was time to remember who I was.

When I became more at peace with my surroundings, I raised my eyes and focused. My sight began to lighten, as my eyes took in the moonshine and illuminated my surroundings. A useful trick—something we girls of the abbey called _Cat's Eyes,_ since the ability gave us excellent night vision.

A path of thick brush remained to bar my way. I extended my will toward the vegetation, calling for its compliance. A moment later, the briars and bushes parted before me, leaving a clearly defined path for me to follow. The new path extended into the distance, curving in certain places, giving me the advantage I needed in order to escape Kane and the horrid life awaiting me in Rainier with Prince Nathan and his mother, Evelyn.

I kept my concentration focused and strolled along the way that had been made for me. As I went, the vegetation along the path behind me folded in again, covering my tracks should Kane attempt to follow me. Even if he had been distracted by something else, he was sure to come searching for me. After all, I was very important to Mistress Evelyn and her plans. If Kane did not bring me safely to her, she would likely have his head taken in retribution.

I strolled into a clearing and paused—not for some strange noise I had heard, but because of a lack of the natural sounds I expected. Every cricket, beetle and rodent that might have been normally active right now had gone suddenly silent. Fear crept up my spine. Something was wrong here. I wondered, immediately, if Kane had managed to find me.

I was wrong.

It wasn't Kane at all.

Growls reverberated around the clearing—deep, guttural noises that sent chills up my spine. I had seen these creatures before—so recently that it felt like no time had passed at all. I had watched them kill my only friend in this cruel world and leave her body lying in a ditch on the side of the road.

The Cindermen had found me.

A dozen man-like beasts surrounded me. Their foul stench, like that of a wet mongrel, mingled with the subtle insidious aroma of decay. Their teeth were bared in ravenous smiles, showing elongated canines that appeared readymade to rip my throat out.

"At last," one of them said. "Judah will be pleased when we bring back your ragged carcass."

"Nothing wrong with having a taste or two first," another said lustfully. "Tender meat on this one." He licked his lips as saliva dripped onto the ground.

I realized he doesn't intend to ravish me and steal away my virtue. Instead, I was to be at least partially consumed. As long as they brought back enough proof of my death to their leader, there would be no harsh consequences if they sated their bloodlust a little in the process.

Days ago, after witnessing Celia's death and knowing that I had been the cause of it, I would have bared my neck for them in my guilt and gladly welcomed oblivion at their hands. That was then, and this was now. Killian was a real person living in the world, and I had to find him. I had to do whatever I could to save him from the danger he was in. I might have already been too late. But I was not going to accept it; not yet.

A subtle shift in the atmosphere occurred in the clearing. I sensed it, and so did the Cindermen. I could see it on their faces, as their grins subsided into grim lines. My fear, which had moments ago had them so excited, was now gone. In its place remained only my hardened determination to fight these monsters and kill them so that I could get to Killian before it was too late.

Fierce energies ignited within my soul in preparation for the destruction I now intended to bring in this clearing. The muscled bodies of the Cindermen tensed, as they prepared themselves to attack. A single second passed—a heartbeat—a half-breath before all Hell broke loose.

A wolf-like Cinderman cried out in pain; his arm severed just above the elbow. That scream was silenced just as suddenly by a blur of steel coming out of the shadows again, striking him in the heart. I caught only a glimpse of Kane moving as fluidly as a running river among these beastly men.

For their part, the Cindermen wasted no more time. They attacked with all of the ferocity they could muster. Most went after Kane, or at least they attempted to go after him. The assassin appeared one moment—long enough to strike a killing blow—and then disappeared again.

A reptilian Cinderman lunged for me. Before I could react with my own defenses, the beast was hurled away without Kane ever touching him. I felt a chill wind and recognized the same oppressive spirit at work as before, when I first met Kane at the abbey.

I turned round and round, finding Cindermen dying everywhere I looked. Moments later, the final agonized cry died away as another reptilian brute expired upon the ground with Kane's deadly sword stabbed through his chest. The assassin stood above him, looking at me with a wry grin upon his face.

I saw the other light in his eyes and perceived the Malkind spirit within him. With the Cindermen dead, I considered making my attack upon Kane. After all, Killian needed me desperately. However, the working of that spirit remained too strong for me.

I attempted to muster my power, but found only the smothering influence of the Malkind. I was powerless to escape now that Kane had arrived upon the scene. My opportunity to flee my captor was gone.

### Crossroads and Consequence

Dawn's first light found Killian and Esmeralda wearily walking toward his father's shop and their family home. Already, he could see the smoke rising from the vent chimney. His father, Radden, must have been forging another weapon to which he would apply tender loving care and a craftsmanship unequaled by any bladesmith in the kingdom.

Killian attended to Esmeralda's needs first: food, water and clean hay in her stall. He removed her saddle and gave her coat a quick brushing out. All this time he considered what he would say to his father. Radden was expecting a report of a job well done and a newly blessed blade ready for delivery to Prince Nathan at the palace.

What Killian had to offer his father was a far cry from good news. Eliam's priestess had not behaved in the manner he had expected. Eliam himself had not blessed the sword in the way Killian had supposed he would. Yeager and his daughter, Wendy, had been killed at the Mangy Cur by mercenaries working for who-knows-what great house, and he had been attacked by that same group. Worst of all, the blessed blade had been stained with his blood and, as near as Killian could tell, it had bonded with him as a result.

Esmeralda was grateful and relieved to be back home in her own private stall. She could no longer speak to convey her feelings, but as always Killian sensed her emotions through contact. She nuzzled his hand with her nose, apparently having no further concern about the sword or the prince. She had fresh hay and oats so, as far as she was concerned, all was right with the world.

Killian left her at peace and walked back toward his father's shop. When he arrived in the doorway, he carried the sword and scabbard in his hand with the strap wrapped around it. What he had to tell his father was bad enough without wearing the sword and appearing impertinent.

Still, Killian wanted to wear it—at least, part of him wanted to wear it, wanted to hold the weapon in his hands. He knew with certainty that the bond had occurred. He had heard about the drawing power a blessed weapon held upon its bond. He felt that tugging desire upon his soul, even now. The bonding of blood and blessed steel had made them one.

He resisted the call of the weapon upon his thoughts, trying to concentrate. Killian stood there for what seemed like hours. Radden watched him curiously from his work bench.

"Are you all right, boy?" Radden asked.

Killian's eyes snapped up from the work bench. He realized that he was avoiding looking at his father. His gaze came to rest upon Radden's middle-aged features.

"What's wrong, Killian? You look like you've seen a spirit, or something."

Radden started to laugh a little, but paused. He could see something unsettling in his son's eyes. Something was definitely wrong here.

Radden stood, gripping Killian's shoulders in his broad, calloused hands. "What's happened?" he said sternly. "Don't leave out anything."

Killian took a deep breath, concentrating on his father's command. The sword was calling him, even now. It wanted to be worn, to be held in Killian's hands.

He shook himself and started telling the story from the time he entered the Brine Wood until coming home again a few minutes ago. When he finished, twenty minutes later, Killian was trembling. Surprisingly, Radden was shaking a little himself.

His father released him after hearing the part about his vision of Eliam. Now, he sat at his work bench again, gripping an etching tool as the story concluded back at his workshop. Radden's knuckles were white from squeezing the tool.

Killian pulled up a chair next to his father and laid the scabbard and sword across his lap. This, at least, seemed to sate the hunger to brandish the blade. The weapon seemed almost like a child wanting out to play. Such was its impatient persistence.

After a moment of silence between them, Killian asked, "What should we do, Father?"

Radden looked up. Killian could see immediately that his father hadn't the slightest idea how to proceed. He was worried, frustrated, and fearful. Any number of things might happen because of this.

Most immediately was the matter of Prince Nathan. He was expecting his sword to be delivered to the palace for the bonding ceremony. Disappointing the royal family might harm his family any number of ways. They might be stripped of their status. They might be beheaded.

Killian began to utter his earlier idea of taking the sword on to the palace with the hope that the bonding ceremony might somehow undo _this_ bond. However, even as he began to wrest the thought to the forefront of his mind, regret arrived with it. He could barely stand to consider such a thing as giving away _his_ sword.

"We have little choice but to take the sword to Prince Nathan," Radden answered finally. "I would chastise you for allowing such a thing to happen, but the fact is there is nothing you could have done differently. Who are we to defy Eliam or his priestess?"

Killian smiled with relief. "You don't know how badly I wanted to mention that point. I just didn't want to seem impertinent about it."

"I know," Radden said. "Something is happening here that we just don't understand. Still, the prince is expecting a sword to be delivered."

"Alternate sword made at breakneck speed?" Killian offered reluctantly.

Radden slapped his palm down heavily upon the work bench. "And I'm sure the prince would accept shoddy craftsmanship," he said in frustration. "A sword like that takes time and tender-loving-care to produce. You know that as well as I do, and we have no time."

"I know, Father," Killian said. "I'm just desperate. This could harm our family, and that's the last thing I want to happen."

Radden sighed heavily, relaxing upon his stool again. "The fact is Eliam has done this for some purpose. We don't know what it is, but I doubt very much that he means to use this as some way to destroy our family. If we trust Eliam like we claim, then we must also believe that he will reveal his purpose in due time. He must already know what recourse we have and don't have."

"So, we take the sword to the palace and see what comes of it?" Killian asked.

Radden nodded. "I can think of nothing else."

### Royal Welcome

Morning was already well on the rise when we stopped again. Kane's horse began to graze and drink from a pond off the road while the assassin and I attended to our own needs. As much as I would have liked to go to Killian, I would not attempt to escape again. I had no chance of making it with Kane around.

Little did I know that the assassin had already noticed the Cindermen tracking us. There was never a moment when he did not know what I was up to. He just wasn't concerned that I might actually get away from him.

As far as Killian was concerned, I had no idea where he was, or even if he had survived the night. The man with the eye patch, along with his men, may have killed my love while he slept in his bed. That thought prompted a tear to roll down my cheek. This was not the first one I had shed tonight for Killian.

I was tempted to wonder why I should care so much for a man that I had never met before. However, I knew in my heart that our meetings in my dreams were not mere flights of fancy in the night. We had truly met and danced and loved. Killian was real. He could not be so different in life than he was in my dreams, could he?

Kane appeared from behind a group of bushes, walking toward me. "We are near Rainier," he said.

I glared at him, but I did not speak to the man. My look might have seemed proud, but I was trembling inside. The Malkind spirit's presence was pervasive. I knew that I could not overcome it by my own power. I was quite certain Kane knew the same thing.

A woman suddenly appeared between us in the clearing where we had stopped to refresh ourselves. Her image seemed spectral for a few moments before gathering resolution. I immediately understood what was happening. Evelyn had sent her visage traveling to find her servant.

Back at the palace, whatever room she happened to be standing in would have taken on the appearance of this glade. The effect was not the same for us, however, since our images were not traveling. We only saw her.

In seconds, Evelyn's form solidified, in every detail appearing just like she was in person. Even her image was unsettling to me, bringing back terrible memories of her torturing me inside my room at the abbey. I shivered as her traveling form turned to look at me.

She sighed noticeably when she saw me. "Good, you've kept her alive," she said, turning back to Kane.

It said something to me that Evelyn didn't appear to be the least bit intimidated by the assassin. She knew her role as queen. Kane was her servant. He knew this as well. His demeanor before the woman was humility itself. He didn't have to serve her, but he chose to.

"Yes, my queen," Kane responded. "We were tracked by a group of Cindermen for a time."

Her brow raised slightly at this.

"I disposed of them," Kane added.

Evelyn's composure returned to severely reserved. "Very good," she said, which I supposed was as wonderful a compliment as the woman had ever bestowed. "I suspected Judah and his brutes would be watching the abbey. Only the blessing of Eliam kept them from attacking it outright."

"Holy ground," Kane added in a somewhat delicate manner.

"Yes, I suppose," Evelyn replied distractedly. "At any rate, this girl, as unfortunate a choice as she is, is my only recourse. We must have her here at the palace for the bonding ceremony in two days' time."

"The Prince's sword is ready?" Kane asked.

"I've only just received word by courier," she reported. "The bladesmith will arrive today with the weapon. I want you back at the palace later today, as well. In fact, I've placed a garrison outside the South Gate that will accompany you inside the wall and on to the palace."

"Only the one garrison at the one gate?" he asked.

"I'm not a simpleton," she retorted. "I have a battalion at each gate, waiting. The Cindermen will not know which gate you arrive at. By the time they realize, you'll already be inside the wall and safe."

"Of course, my queen."

Evelyn turned from her servant then, looking sternly at me now. "Well," she said, "I hope you realize the opportunity you've been afforded here. Thanks to the Cindermen, you are my last resort. I trust you have learned your lesson finally and will behave yourself in a dignified manner as is befitting your station."

Inside, I glared at her with every ounce of venom I could muster. However, outwardly, I remained subservient. I did not wish to undergo any more of her _lessons_. Nothing good could come of my rebellion now. Yet, my vision of Killian had filled me with hope. He was out there somewhere, waiting for me to find him. All was not lost.

I nodded and said nothing.

Evelyn didn't seem happy. She glowered at me, but then finally nodded in return, seemingly satisfied. As long as I did what I was told, she didn't care about how I felt. In fact, my feelings were the least concern she had. I was nothing more than a tool to her, a means toward assuring her son a great deal of power—power that was necessary if House Rainier was going to survive the coming months.

Turning back to Kane, she said, "One of my armored carriages awaits your arrival at the gate. See that Raven is interred before another move is made. Her safety must be assured for the sake of my son and House Rainier. Let there be no further delays. Time is of the essence."

With her final command issued, Evelyn's image vanished from the clearing. No farewells; not even for her servant. I looked at him. He flashed me a feral grin.

"You're no different than I am," I said to him.

"No?" he replied impishly.

I glared at him in a somewhat self-satisfied way. "You're a servant to House Rainier just like I am."

His eyes narrowed, showing teeth in his grin now. "But I don't have to bond with the prince, or spend my nights in his bedchamber."

Kane's remark deflated me instantly. He was right. Despite being a servant to Evelyn, he did have a measure of freedom. He was not humiliated by her, but prized. I was a prize for a completely different reason. I would be forced to bond with Nathan, meaning that, at least once, he would bed me as part of the ritual that made us one in body and spirit. I would belong to him and be forever under his control and the control of whatever woman became his queen. She would become Mistress of the House when Evelyn stepped down. She would be a queen, while I remained a slave.

Kane smiled broadly now, seeing the effect his words had on me. He gestured toward the black stallion waiting for us to climb back onto its saddle. The rest of the journey could not be long enough for me. When it ended, I would be placed inside Evelyn's locked carriage, like a diamond inside a jewelry box. When it opened again, I would face my fate with Prince Nathan.

Killian and his father had attempted to do the right thing with regard to the waiting prince. A courier had been dispatched immediately that morning in order to convey their sincerest apologies for any delay felt by His Royal Highness and to let him know that they would soon arrive with the sword in hand. However, before they could make ready for their journey to the palace, a contingent of royal guards arrived with orders to escort them to the palace where Prince Nathan and his mother, the queen, would receive them.

A dozen guards rode before them in the livery of House Rainier. Dark gray breeches with navy shirts and white gloves. The soldiers wore leather-bound plate armor capped with polished steel plating at the breast and the back. Swords hung at their sides and short spears hung in special holsters attached to the horses' saddles.

Half a dozen soldiers rode at both sides, and another dozen rode behind Killian and his father. The men and their captain were noticeably tense. They carried on as though an attack was imminent. Yet, they were riding inside the city walls—walls that were said to be impregnable.

"Isn't this a bit like overkill?" Killian whispered toward his father riding next to him. "We're only delivering a sword."

"But not just any sword," Radden said. "This is the sword of a king, blessed by Eliam himself."

"Still," Killian observed, "We're behind the wall."

"Which should tell us something," Radden said. "Something is wrong. The soldiers know it. The queen isn't taking any chances..."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning something must have happened that we don't know about," Radden said.

Killian straightened in his saddle. His father had allowed him to ride Esmeralda today, and her anxiety was filtering through to him. She didn't like this whole situation any more than they did, causing Killian to believe even more that trouble lay just around the corner.

They lapsed into silence as their procession continued down Halifax Way. The boulevard had been named after one of House Rainier's previous kings. He had been a great general of his day and had fought valiantly to hold onto control of the kingdom. At least, that's the way it was told in Rainier and cities under House Rainier's sovereignty. The story was markedly different when told elsewhere.

The captain called for their group to halt. Killian and Radden stopped their horses as the soldiers came up short around them. Up ahead, another column of soldiers was approaching by way of the intersecting King's Road. Their numbers were far greater than in Killian and Radden's escort group. Theirs would defer until the other passed.

An officer from among the larger group came upon a white mare to stop beside Killian's escort captain. They conferred briefly, and then the officer rejoined his group. Killian noticed an armored carriage that appeared to be the centerpiece of the battalion's attention.

"We'll join their group on the tale end," the captain called back to them.

Killian glanced sidelong at his father. "What's wrong?"

Radden's eyes darted around to nearby buildings and homes lining the boulevard. "I don't like this," he said. "It's not good stopping. This would be the perfect time for an enemy force to attack."

"With a battalion of soldiers marching by?" Killian asked with a little chuckle. "Who would be so foolish?"

"Someone who knows how we think...who is counting on us believing only a great fool would dare attack now."

Killian swallowed hard. His father's words caused him to reconsider the matter. Could he be right? The queen had sent an armed escort for the prince's sword. This battalion appeared to be marching with only a single armored carriage. And who was inside that carriage that was considered to be so important as to warrant such an expenditure of manpower?

Certainly, it couldn't be the queen. She and the prince were supposed to be waiting to receive them and Nathan's sword. That thought—Nathan's sword—moved vomit up into Killian's throat. He sighed heavily against the sudden nausea and forced the thought of giving the sword away out of his mind. Still, who could it be inside that carriage who was so important?

Esmeralda grew impatient beneath him as the carriage passed through the intersection. The battalion marched on beside and behind—soldiers on horses with broadswords, while others walked along carrying spears. The men seemed alert, but lacked the kind of nervous energy present in their own escort.

At last, the final soldiers passed before them on foot. The captain of Killian's escort motioned for their group to proceed. The horses moved forward as one and joined with the battalion at the rear. Over a block away, the top of the armored carriage was barely visible among a forest of silver-tipped spears and blue and silver flags bearing the standard of House Rainier.

Killian watched now with Radden, leaving his doubts about the wisdom of an attack behind. His father had once been a soldier. He knew the kind of tactics an enemy might use in a situation like this.

Still, nothing happened. Other than pedestrian traffic skirting by the procession of soldiers, there was no one else around. Citizens of Rainier were naturally curious about the parade and the carriage. After all, they had seen their king and queen travel these boulevards with escorts. They liked to pause in their daily activities to watch. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

The sky was bright blue with only a few puffy white clouds drifting overhead. The air was warm, but not enough to be uncomfortable. The scents of distant market stalls filled the air with spices and bread and pies baking. It all seemed so perfect.

Except, the sword was vibrating through the scabbard which was attached to Killian's saddle. It pulsed like an impatient child tugging at his mother's skirts. All may have seemed right with the world by general appearances, but the sword blessed by Eliam apparently knew better.

Killian swept his gaze ahead. His eyes fell suddenly upon the buildings that lined this particular area of King's Road. These businesses were of such a height on either side as to create the appearance of a valley within the street.

The sword vibrated with even more intensity now. Killian grabbed the hilt and drew the blade free of its scabbard. The vibrations ceased instantly as he touched it, turning instead into raw emotion that fed into his mind. A terrible feeling of dread washed over him.

"What are you doing?" Radden asked in a harsh whisper, hoping that no one else had seen what his son was doing. "Put that away!"

Killian turned to his father. "An attack is coming," he whispered back.

An earsplitting explosion shook the ground and the buildings on King's Road a moment later. Windows shattered. Men and horses up ahead of Killian and his father were thrown into the air. The armored carriage was thrown on its side. The explosion had gone off as it passed by a certain place in the street.

At this distance, Killian had felt only the thunderous boom. None of the flame and shrapnel that had killed many at the blast radius had touched him or his father or the soldiers around them. The citizens of Rainier in the vicinity had been killed, injured, or driven into a numbing, screaming panic.

Dazed, Killian felt Esmeralda's fear. She reared up in terror and bolted away from the scene. Killian grabbed hold of her neck with his free hand, trying to calm her. The sword fed its desire to fight directly into his mind. Suddenly, Killian felt a calm wash over him and through him, even into Esmeralda by way of his contact with her.

She responded as he responded. In that moment, a connection between sword and rider and horse occurred. Eliam's peace was upon them. Courage and purpose arose, and Killian felt Esmeralda surge forward through the soldiers.

He released his hold on her mane and swept the reins into his hand. In the other hand, Killian held the sword at his side. Soldiers lay in the street wounded and confused. They were in no shape to fight at the moment, but this was precisely when the real attack came.

Men rose upon the rooftops of the buildings lining the King's Road. Bows in hand, they began to rain down arrows upon the street below and the soldiers lying nearly helpless there. Some attempted to shield themselves, but most were too dazed to realize what was happening until they were struck multiple times. Horses screamed also, as those that survived the explosion with their riders were riddled with arrows. Men and horses fell back to the ground, their weapons clattering onto the road uselessly as rivulets of blood cascaded through the joints of the paving stones.

Killian pulled the reins hard, bending Esmeralda to his will. "You can't go in there!" he said to her.

She protested through noises and the transfer of emotions, but Killian refused her argument.

"You're too big a target, and they'll surely try to kill you with a rider onboard," he reasoned. "Go around and find me when the time is right!"

Before the mare could protest further, Killian leaped from her saddle with the sword in hand. He wrapped the scabbard strap around his shoulder and torso, grabbed up a fallen soldier's polished steel shield, bearing the crest of House Rainier, and charged into the fray. He did not understand exactly how, but Killian knew that he must make his way to the overturned carriage. Through the sword's influence, he felt this to be of vital importance and he must not fail.

Shouts and screams mingled with the swish of arrows and the moans of the dying. Figures moved forward from the shadows into the street, cutting down soldiers who were trying to recover from the initial blast. Killian's mind reeled at the realization that these warriors were, in fact, Cindermen.

How could this be? How could they have gotten into the city without anyone knowing? It wasn't like they were inconspicuous creatures. Their appearance was actually quite alarming—you couldn't miss them. Killian could only assume a plot involving numerous citizens and possibly even soldiers was now unfolding in an attempt to dethrone the heir to House Rainier before he could assume power in the place of his ailing father.

One of the beasts stabbed a pike into the body of a crawling soldier, killing the man. Killian raised the blessed blade and struck the wolf-like creature down as he passed. Their target was abundantly clear. All of the Cindermen were converging upon the overturned royal carriage.

Smoke rolled away from the armored vehicle. Of the four white horses that had been pulling the carriage, only one still tried in vain to rise from the ground upon a bloody and broken hind leg. The other horses were still harnessed together, but none of them moved at all now.

Killian raced through the haze and fog created by the explosion. At every opportunity, he cut down the Cindermen that he found. Even their beastly strength and cunning was no match for the power of the blade blessed by Eliam. The sword moved his arm, making its will his own by a connection Killian could recognize but hardly explain.

By now, royal guards and soldiers had also taken up the fight against the attacking Cindermen. Men and beasts clashed in a terrible struggle, shedding blood and rending flesh. Their cries joined together in a cacophony of woe that seemed to fill every space upon the King's Road and its surrounding buildings.

Through all of this, Killian ran at breakneck speed, trying to reach the overturned carriage. He did not know who might be inside. He did not care. The blessed sword willed him onward.

Another two Cindermen engaged him, one swinging a war hammer, the other brandishing a sword slicked with wet blood. The war hammer attempted to bite into the blade but was repelled. Killian ducked below the next mighty swing and hacked through the beast's legs below the knees.

Rolling back to his feet, he brought his sword into an overhead guard position, catching his enemy's sword before his own blood could be added to the blade. Sticky, crimson residue spattered Killian's face. He ignored it, kicking out against the creature's right knee cap. A howl of pain issued from its mongrel throat as the man thing buckled toward the ground. Killian forced his sword past and cracked it across the creature's skull, sending the beast dying to the pavement.

He reached the carriage, bounded from its bent axle to its upturned side. The whole side had been caved in. He pulled at the handle, but the warped frame refused to release the door.

Killian wasted no time. He whipped the blade around, striking the hinges and then pulled again. The door came free in his hand.

An attacker appeared behind him, leaping up to the carriage wheel with a long dagger in his hand. Killian swung the armor-plated door around and bashed the lizard-like man across the face. The creature reeled backward, falling away from the carriage.

Killian found a woman inside, wearing ornamental dress, lying stunned at the bottom of the compartment. She stirred as he called to her. It was a miracle she was alive at all.

"Give me your hand!" he cried, reaching down to her. She stood, grabbing for his arm and clasped hold. Killian grunted with the effort, hauling her out like a fish from a pond. Smoke whirled around the carriage. He could hear men closing in and the sounds of battle. He had to hurry.

Drawing the girl up, Killian stood and deposited her upon the side of the carriage. Her hair was very black and only a little disheveled. Her elegant dress, clearly made for attending the royal court, was another matter. The gown was torn in places and singed heavily in others.

Then she looked up at her rescuer for the first time. Killian's eyes locked upon her face. This was impossible. It simply could not be. Before him, sitting upon the smoldering carriage in her ruined gown with an expression of shock upon her face, was the girl of his dreams.

### Chance Meeting?

I sat upon a velvet seat cushion inside the padded, armored carriage Evelyn had sent to meet me. Kane and I had found exactly what she had said we would. A great many soldiers were waiting for us as we approached the South Gate earlier in the day. But this was not going to be as informal a passing into the city as I had hoped. Evelyn had also sent servants with a selection of gowns.

These servants had been previously instructed to bathe and dress me for my journey through the streets of Rainier to the palace where Evelyn and her son would be waiting to receive me. I did not have any say as to the choice of the gown. Nevertheless, it was very fine, deep blue silk accented with silver clasps and a silvery white imprint of the coat of arms for House Rainier; an eagle in flight over a sunrise. To onlookers, the dress and pattern were no doubt beautiful to behold. For me, the dress spoke of their wealth while the pattern testified to my being their property.

I endured their process—scrubbing away the previous night of road dust and sweat and Cinderman blood. They fashioned my hair, spinning it up into an intricate pattern piled atop my head. Oils for my skin and perfumes were applied. Only a little makeup was applied, allowing the natural tones of my pale skin to stand out. I was ready.

Under guard they bundled me into the carriage. My final farewell came from Kane. He simply tipped his hat with a devilish grin and then rode away ahead of us. Talk among the soldiers had informed me that he was scouting the route ahead between us and my new retinue of soldiers and the royal palace well beyond the wall.

Locked inside like a freshly polished gemstone, my caravan began its movement toward the city gate. The ride was not exactly going to be comfortable, but at least Evelyn's wagons were well padded inside all of the armor plating. There seemed to be no escape.

Twenty minutes later, I was growing restless as we neared the palace. I peeked outside through the small barred window. I could see another group of soldiers on horseback waiting for our long procession to pass. It was hard for me to make out any details about the group. They must have been soldiers sent by Evelyn to guard me on my journey to her and her son, Prince Nathan.

They certainly weren't taking any chances with my safety. Of course, after what had happened to Celia and Evelyn upon the road, I couldn't blame her for her caution. Even my secret journey on horseback with Kane had somehow been known to Judah and his Cindermen.

With nothing new to see, I returned my gaze from the road. I sat very still in my new gown, wondering how much further it must be until we reached the palace and my future with Prince Nathan and his soon-to-be queen. Yet, I was still not resigned to this fate. I would be free of this slavery and I would find my love, Killian, somehow.

Tears began to form in my eyes. Quickly, I removed my handkerchief and dabbed them away before my makeup became ruined. I had no desire to be punished by Evelyn again.

I bowed my head and offered up a prayer to Eliam. My hope was that he would help me; that all was not lost. "Please help me to find Killian," I whispered.

An explosion erupted in the street outside the carriage. Instantly, my hearing was reduced to a constant ringing sound. Light and fire flashed through the windows. I felt the heat, but heard only the ringing and felt the world tilting.

I could not tell if I was merely dizzy, or if something was actually happening to my world within the carriage. Then I was thrown sideways, landing heavily against the padded sidewall to my right. Glass shattered and scattered through the air around me as smoke filled the confines of the vehicle.

I saw nothing but wisps of flame. The ringing was incessant. I felt numb all over my body, lying helpless against the padded wall, looking up toward what was once the unmarred left side of the carriage. Now, the door and wall was partially caved in.

I wondered what had happened, but thoughts refused to coalesce. An attack of some kind, perhaps? Visions of Cindermen came into my mind, but I was too dazed to make sense out of anything. Was this my time to die? Would I be like Celia, pulled from a ruined armored carriage to have my throat cut in the middle of the road by a Cinderman?

As the ringing in my ears began to fade, I heard more and more the sounds of battle: swords clashing, horses screaming, and men dying. I tried unsuccessfully to lift myself from the floor of the vehicle. My dress managed to hinder my every move. Already, it was torn and marred by smoke and fire.

I heard footsteps pounding upon the carriage above me. A hand reached into the window, fingers pulling at the bent grill, trying to open the door. Those efforts proved unsuccessful. The hand retreated and my hope drained away.

A piercing cry of steel drew my eyes skyward again. Molten cuts scored the door frame. The hand returned, grabbing the grill and pulling again. To my surprise, it came free.

A head in silhouette peered down at me from above. I could see that it was a younger man, but no other details. His arm shot down into the carriage after me, insisting that I do something to help him save me. I mustered my final reserve of strength and jumped to grab his proffered arm. I missed the first time and then quickly gave it a better try. Success—I had him, or rather he had me.

The young man hauled me up, his corded muscles straining beneath his shirt sleeve and my gripping hands. He pulled me out of the carriage and deposited me quickly upon the battered edge of the door frame. My eyes adjusted to the brighter light outside. I saw his face and shock almost overwhelmed me.

I had seen him in dreams and in my visions. I had thought to try and warn him, or somehow save him from the desperate villains seeking his life at the Mangy Cur Inn. I wanted to escape Evelyn and her bodyguard and her son in order to find my true love, but he had found me instead.

Killian stared into my eyes and he became transfixed, confused, perplexed—all the same emotions that were galloping through my mind like a stampeding herd of horses. His mouth dropped open in surprise and bewilderment. I found myself doing the same. Then a Cinderman appeared behind him, ready to kill the man of my dreams before I could even speak to him for the first time.

I screamed, trying to warn him of the creature creeping up behind him, but it was too late. The battle axe was falling already. Killian had not even turned his head yet. He only now broke from his confused state as my cry roused him.

He turned his head as the axe fell upon him. A broadsword intercepted the axe blade at the last moment. I found an older man—an older version of Killian—bearing into his defense with all of his strength, trying to stop the blow before Killian died. The older man repelled the strike, parried and delivered a deathblow before the Cinderman knew what was happening.

He turned with blood upon his hands, sword and clothing. "Get the girl away from here!" the older man shouted.

The man's voice roused Killian completely. He turned toward me, grabbed my arms and lifted me up to my feet. We ran across the carriage away from the general melee of the king's soldiers and Cindermen. The older man leaped back into the fray, swinging his broadsword with terrible fury.

Killian jumped down from the carriage to the street and then motioned for me to jump to him. I did so, and he caught me around the waist. Wisps of smoke slithered through the fighting throng like serpents, obscuring parts of the battle. We still had not spoken to one another, yet.

We ran down the street briefly, dodged between two buildings through an alley and passed through someone's garden. People passed us here and there: soldiers running toward the battle, others coming to see what was happening, or possibly to help the soldiers. I was unfamiliar with my surroundings here in the city. I had never really been anywhere except the abbey.

All the while, Killian doggedly pulled me onward. My heels quickly became a hindrance. I cast them off with two quick kicks of my feet and went on bare feet with more ease. Killian didn't seem to notice. He remained fixed upon the task of ushering me as far away as possible from the Cindermen.

We passed through streets, around homes, and out into markets, all at a dizzying pace. Most of the people did not pay us much attention. They were focused more on what was happening on the King's Road. Still, my royal attire with its emblazoned coat of arms, was about as conspicuous as possible.

Finally, I realized that we must have some course of action. At this confusing pace, we might even run right back into the Cindermen. "Killian, we have to stop," I said. "We need some sort of plan."

Killian stopped abruptly in the street at the sound of my voice. He looked into my eyes and then around us for any danger. Then he pulled me near to the side of someone's house.

"Who are you?" he whispered. He stood very close to me now. His hands gripped my shoulders and his expression was intense. I noticed myself trembling beneath his touch.

His questions caught me off guard a little. Of course, he couldn't know me. I was the one who had visions and dreamed dreams. He couldn't have any idea of my relation to him through those dreams. Still, I had hoped that he would know me already. It would certainly have made all of this easier.

I tried to proclaim my identity, but it came out as more of a timid squeak. "I'm Raven."

Killian straightened, the intensity in his eyes diminishing somewhat to wonder. "Raven," he repeated, "from my dreams to reality. How can it be?"

His statement made me weak. I felt like my legs might buckle at any moment. "You have seen me in your dreams?"

"Night after night, I have seen you, but I had no idea you were real," he declared. "I can't understand it."

I was smiling now. Despite the danger, I could not help it. Killian knew who I was. My elation was almost more than I can describe. He knew me. How I had hoped it might be true, but I never really expected that it could be. I realized then, like Killian, that I had no idea how this thing between us in our dreams could be possible.

"You know my name already?" he asked. "How?"

"I saw you, as well," I replied. "I thought you were only a man from my dreams, until I saw a vision of you at the inn where those men attacked you while you slept. I tried to warn you—"

His eyes widened at this. "You saw me at the Mangy Cur?" he asked. "The voice screaming my name—it was you?"

I nodded my head, scanning his face, finding recognition and bewilderment, anxiety and joy all fighting for supremacy there.

"You heard me cry out?"

"Yes," he said, smiling excitedly, "you woke me just in time to fight my way out of that room."

His hands rested on my shoulders. My hands were wrapped over his forearms. His corded muscles remained tense beneath his soiled shirt sleeves. We stood there smiling dumbly at one another, not knowing what to say.

Killian roused suddenly. "The Cindermen," he said. "They're trying to kill you?"

I nodded my head.

"But why?" he asked. Then he asked again, "Who are you, Raven?"

I lowered my gaze, ashamed to tell him what role I had to play in all this. "I am a Daughter of Eliam; the intended bond of Nathan, heir to the throne of House Rainier," I said in a low voice.

My eyes came back to his face when my confession was made. His eyes were not as wide now as they were before. His brow was furrowed in perplexity and astonishment. Only now did he seem to notice my gown and, more importantly, the silver crest displayed there. Almost anyone in the kingdom knew this type of garment and what it represented.

Then, strangely, Killian smiled. "A Daughter of Eliam. How wonderful."

I peered into his eyes. Clearly, he did not understand what I had just told him. How could he smile at my news?

"Killian, I am to become the bond slave of Prince Nathan," I said again. "Why are you smiling?"

His grin faded. "It's not the prince that makes me smile," he said, "just that you are a Daughter of Eliam. Puzzle pieces are fitting together. I just can't see the whole picture yet."

"I don't understand," I confessed.

"That's just it," he said. "Neither do I."

The sounds of battle drew us back to the reality of our situation. "We can't stay here," he said. "I have to get you safely away."

"I can't go to the palace," I pleaded. "I can't be turned over to Mistress Evelyn. She'll force me to bond with Nathan as quickly as she can. I won't do it; not now when I've finally found you."

Killian smiled gently, drawing me into an embrace. His strong arms enfolded me. For the first time, perhaps in my entire life, I actually felt safe.

"I won't allow that to happen," he said.

Still, I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. Neither of us could stand against House Rainier. Evelyn would be desperate to get a hold of me for her son and for the sake of the monarchy.

I laid my head against his chest, trying to block out the world, not wanting this moment to pass. My arms enfolded his torso, pulling against his back. Now that I had found him, I did not want to let him go.

"I promise," Killian added more confidently.

Tears welled in my eyes. These were words I had longed to hear, but never thought possible. Yet, I knew such sentiment was foolishness. Evelyn would not allow it.

"You should not make promises you cannot keep," I said.

He withdrew a little in order to look me in the eye. "I never hoped such a woman really existed. Now that we've found one another in life, I will die before I let you go."

I nodded and tried to smile, though it came off weakly. I wanted to believe him; to believe that he could fulfill this desire. Somehow, it had to be possible. Otherwise, why would Eliam torture us this way? Surely, he had a plan that we did not yet realize.

Killian turned, taking hold of my hand, leading me away from the street. I had no idea where we were. I could only hope that my rescuer knew.

"We've got to get you out of sight," he said. "Could that dress be any more conspicuous? They might as well have painted a bull's-eye on you."

"You know why this attack has come?" I asked. Of course, I understood the reason, but did everyone know?

"The rivalry between the houses is common knowledge," Killian replied, leading us through an alley between a bakery and a tenement. "What I don't understand is the presence of the Cindermen. What great house would ally themselves with such creatures?"

"I suppose any who want a powerful ally like Judah?"

"That's just it," he said. "The great houses of the empire have all decried the Cindermen as abominations. Even to Malkind worshippers, they are seen as monsters that should be destroyed."

"Then someone is lying about their convictions," I said.

We paused at the head of the alley, peering toward the street beyond for any danger. Behind us sounded the whinny of a horse. When we looked, we found the very last person I wanted to see.

The assassin, Kane, sat upon his black stallion at the far end of the alley. His face was hidden in shadow beneath his hat brim, but I could feel the icy stare coming from those eyes. I could sense the malice of the Malkind spirit within him. I had hoped to finally be free, but Evelyn's hired killer had come for me.

The nightmarish steed reared back on its hind legs, Kane remaining fixed in the saddle like a champion unperturbed. He spurred the beast onward toward us without preamble. He didn't have a weapon in his hand—not yet—but I doubted he would need one. I had thus far been unable to resist the power of his spirit. What hope could poor Killian have against this devil, when he was only a mortal man?

"The queen's bodyguard?" Kane said.

At once, I became terrified that Killian would simply turn me over to the man. He might not have known what manner of wickedness indwelled Evelyn's assassin. What if he did not care?

Then he did something I did not expect. Killian released my hand and drew an elegant sword from the scabbard on his back—the same sword he had used to cut through the battered door of the armored carriage moments ago. He positioned himself between me and Kane, his weapon held at guard.

Kane and his mount came up short, the horse taking to its hind legs again in frustration. The assassin was better seen now as he regarded my protector. His stallion bore down upon us, frothing at the mouth, expressing the temperament of the spirit within the man.

"Step aside, boy," Kane said menacingly.

I felt rather than saw the power surging from the assassin—a direct emanation from the Malkind spirit within. That energy came at us—at Killian standing in front of me with his sword. However, something unexpected occurred. The Malkind spirit's power was somehow reversed by the blade Killian held. The energy returned upon the assassin.

Kane was thrown from his mount. The horse was bashed into the building wall to our right and nearly toppled to the ground. Killian was as surprised by the exchange as I was. Even my natural ability as a Daughter of Eliam did not allow me to counter such an attack.

Killian turned to me, holding the blade in a tight grip.

"How did you do that?" I asked.

"I'm not even sure what happened," Killian said.

"You moved your arm to intercept the attack of the Malkind spirit living inside him."

"It's the sword," he said. "Its will controls me overtakes me at times. The blade has been blessed by Eliam."

Then the puzzle pieces fell into place for me. Of course, only Eliam's power could have repelled such an attack. This weapon, blessed by Eliam, had the ability to do what even I could not do.

Kane, dazed upon the ground, began to stir.

"We must leave," Killian said.

We turned toward the street, only to find at least two dozen soldiers waiting for us. The men surrounded the mouth of the alley, preventing us from going any further. Killian glanced back at Kane, who was just beginning to stand again. His hat smoldered on the pavement several feet away.

I grabbed hold of Killian's sword arm to stop him. Clearly, he meant to fight, but I knew the futility of the act. He would be killed, and I could not bear the thought.

Surprised, he held his defense, looking me in the eye. I took hold of his face with trembling hands and kissed his lips. His mouth conformed to mine eagerly, his sword arm falling to his side as his free hand surrounded my waist to embrace me.

I withdrew, looking into his face. "You cannot win here," I said. "I cannot watch you die. They have come for me. House Rainier will never let me go."

Almost without either of us noticing, Kane approached and leveled his sword tip at Killian's throat. He tore me from Killian's grip and pushed me toward several of the approaching soldiers.

"See to it that our queen's prize is secured and brought to her immediately," Kane said. He regarded Killian. "This fool you will take to the palace clapped in irons."

I surrendered to the soldiers, glad only that Kane did not immediately kill my love. He would live for now, and that was better than the alternative. As I was taken from Killian's sight, manacles were applied to his wrists and his weapon was taken into custody. I left him, happy to have finally found him; a lingering tingle upon my lips from our first and last kiss.

### First Order

Radden thrust his long sword into a reptilian Cinderman, twisting his blade viciously so that the beast's innards spill out upon the ground. The Cinderman hissed out its final breath, eyes bugging as it fell away to the street. Many of this Cinderman's comrades lay around it, dead or dying.

Fortunately for this battalion, reinforcements had arrived just in time to turn the tide during the attack by these abominable beasts. There had been no discovery yet of the means by which the Cindermen had been able to enter Rainier with such large numbers undetected. However, their leader, the lion-like Judah, was nowhere to be seen—an unusual circumstance for a Cinderman attack.

Radden gestured to several of the soldiers, asking if any of them had seen his son and the young lady who was riding inside the carriage. None of them had. None of them seemed to be in good enough condition to care at the moment either. These men were battered and bruised, some of them having bleeding wounds that required immediate care by a physician.

Pedestrians had come to help—some of them fighting with the soldiers against the Cindermen, others helping the wounded. The street was bloody also, as though the very ground had been wounded in order to bring forth this carnage. Radden surveyed the scene, unsure of which direction Killian ran with the girl. Surely, the boy had been able to get her safely away from the attack.

Then Radden saw someone standing in the midst of the haze which hung heavy in the street. This was no Cinderman and no soldier. The slender figure was feminine. Her skin was dark and her robes reminded him of only one person.

"Shalindra?" he whispered to himself. "Can it be?"

Radden found himself approaching the woman. She did not turn to regard him. Instead, she continued to stare at the body of a fallen Cinderman. When Radden came up behind her, he half expected to find Judah dead at her feet. However, this was only one of the wolf-like beasts and not their leader at all.

Radden planted his bloody long sword point down upon the road and dropped to one knee. His hands and hair and clothing were heavily matted with gore. His joints and muscles were sore from fighting, yet he would not risk dishonoring himself before the priestess again.

"Mistress," he said simply, dropping his gaze to the ground deferentially.

She did not turn, but spoke in a low voice where only he could hear. "Radden," she said, "much has happened."

"Yes, my lady," he said. "I am surprised to see you in the city. I was not aware that you ever left the Brine Wood."

"I find myself wherever Eliam desires," she said.

"Of course," Radden replied. "What is Eliam's purpose in having you come here today?"

She turned now, looking down at him. "I have come to warn you, Son of Rainier."

Radden lifted his gaze to meet hers. Addressing him as _Son of Rainier_ was troubling to him. However, he did not wish to argue the matter with her again. She had refused already to hear his side of things, and Shalindra was a hard person to argue with besides.

"To warn me?" he asked.

"Do you not realize who it was the Cindermen came here to destroy today?"

"A girl," he answered. "The one riding in the armored carriage. Who is she?"

"She is a Daughter of Eliam," Shalindra replied.

"The bond meant for Prince Nathan?"

"The same," Shalindra said. "You no doubt understand her value to House Rainier?"

"Precious beyond compare. Her power will belong to the new king," he said. "Without a bond, Nathan cannot assume the throne when his father dies."

Radden considered a moment longer and then started to speak.

"She is safe," Shalindra said, anticipating his query.

"Killian?"

"Your son has saved her life."

Radden exhaled deeply, as though a weight had just been removed from his chest. "Thank, Eliam," he whispered, running bloody fingers through his matted hair.

"However, he will soon lose his own life, unless someone intervenes."

Radden stood. "Why?"

"He has been taken into custody by the King's Guard," she reported.

Radden considered this new development for a moment. "But Killian saved the girl from the Cindermen," he said. "Why would the king execute my son for heroism?"

"It might have something to do with the girl's feelings for the boy," Shalindra said, arching her brow.

Radden stammered for a moment. Feelings for his son? How could such a thing possibly be? Killian had only met the girl minutes ago during the battle. He began to say exactly this, when Shalindra cut him off.

"Something has happened that no one else is aware of, not even the girl or your son," she said. "When it is discovered, Killian will be put to death in order to break its power."

Eyes wide with horror, Radden demanded, "What? What has happened, Shalindra?"

"Unwittingly, a bond has been made."

"Impossible," Radden said, closing his eyes as a sudden dizziness tried to overcome him. He very nearly fainted there in the street. When he opened his eyes again, Shalindra was no longer present upon the King's Road. Eliam's priestess had disappeared as mysteriously as she had appeared.

He stumbled for a moment, throwing out his hand to steady himself. His hand landed upon the warm, muscular side of a horse. Radden looked up as the horse nickered in his ear. A black mare stood upon the road with him.

"Esmeralda," he said, smiling. Then he found his strength and put his foot inside the stirrup, hoisting himself into her saddle. "We've got to hurry to the palace, girl. Killian is in trouble."

This news was all Esmeralda needed to spur her on. She whinnied and turned on the spot, charging down the road toward the palace standing at the heart of Rainier, at the end of the King's Road. Wounded soldiers, shrouded in mist and the smoke of flaming debris, watched them go.

Judah shook his head, a wild mane of coarse hair flailing about him in the near dark of the catacombs that lay beneath the royal city of Rainier. "Where is my report?" he shouted.

Two dozen of his Cindermen soldiers waited with him upon news from the surface. Down below, they had only heard the initial explosion that began their attack upon the King's Road. If all had gone as planned, then the latest attempt by the royal family to bring one of the Daughters of Eliam to the palace as a bond for the prince had failed.

Judah had had the opportunity to kill the previous girl with his own hands. Unfortunately, his presence during this attack had been forbidden by their benefactor; a man of few words but great in power. Judah did not enjoy being put into this position, but circumstances being what they were, he found himself with little choice.

His people had long been considered abominations by the humans. At one time, hundreds of years ago, they were enslaved; used by the royals to fight their wars with one another. A time of rebellion had ended all of that.

Now, the Cindermen were outcasts, living nomadic lives, raising their families the best they could, while the humans dwelled in walled cities having the finer things in life. Judah meant to see an end to this hierarchy, to bring down the royals and have the Cindermen rise to positions of status. For the time being, he would work with those humans who were willing to grant him the opportunities he needed. But a day was coming when he meant to crush them beneath his feet and take all for his people.

The waiting made his men anxious, but Judah remained calm. His ancestors had waited as long as necessary amid the high grasses for their prey to finally come to them. He tensed only when—after an hour had passed since the initial explosion—he saw several of his soldiers coming down the long corridor with his benefactor in tow.

This man, dressed in black and wearing a wide-brimmed hat of the same color, walked toward him almost soundlessly. In comparison, the plodding of the four Cindermen who surrounded him every step of the way seemed thunderous. Judah knew Kane's reputation among the humans. He was considered a master of stealth and assassination.

Kane had employers, perhaps even genuine allies, but he had no real friends. He had no use for such relationships, no desire to share his life with another. Judah admired and pitied the man. He was a true warrior, but there was no joy in him.

When the group came to stand before him in the half-light, Judah wasted no time. "You killed my warriors in the forest."

Instantly, the soldiers surrounding Kane turned on him, their muscles coiling like springs ready to attack. The assassin did not move except to smile a little. Retractable claws came out also as they bore their teeth in anticipation of Judah's command to strike the human down.

"Do you also wish to have these die?" Kane asked in a mirthful tone.

Judah's eyes narrowed on the man. "They had the girl," he said. "We could have ended this then and spared ourselves the effort today."

Kane raised his head, so that the brim of his hat revealed bright almost luminescent eyes. He was still smiling. "I wanted the attack to take place here in the city," he said. "House Rainier must understand their vulnerability."

"So they can guard themselves?" Judah growled.

Kane's grin softened a little. "When you spook the herd, they panic."

Judah nodded slowly, showing teeth in his version of a smile. "And make mistakes."

Silence hung between them for a moment. Judah's soldiers relaxed only a little. They still wanted to kill the human in their midst. Long held prejudices were difficult to forget.

Judah's smile disappeared a moment later. "Still, my fellow Cindermen are dead by your hand, human. You'll have to pay for that."

For a fraction of a second, there was complete silence in the subterranean chamber. Even the ghosts haunting the shadows were unsure what to make of Judah's statement.

Judah smiled again—the smile of a wolf on the hunt.

"Kill him."

The Cindermen pounced like cats upon a helpless mouse. Only this was no mouse, and he was as far from helpless as could be. The Cindermen nearly collided with one another in their eagerness, but Kane had already moved. Nearly too fast to see, the assassin ducked beneath the first two attacks, grabbing one of his assailants by the arm in the process. A moment later this wolf-like Cinderman was lying on the stone floor with the joints of his wrist, elbow, and shoulder torn out of place.

The other three soldiers turned on him, finding their prey. Except, in the eyes of the assassin, he was the hunter and they were the prey. The first soldier died less than a second later as Kane's silver blade stabbed him through the breastbone. Fearlessly, the other two pursued him in a whirling confusion Judah found hard to follow.

The third flew through the air toward the lion-like leader of the Cindermen, landing hard on the stone floor of the catacomb tunnel with his neck broken. Kane stood still as the last came to him, claws and teeth ready to rend human flesh. Something akin to thunder resounded in the tunnel with them. Otherworldly light flashed in the assassin's eyes.

The lizard-like Cinderman stopped short of his prey, fear on his face. He attempted a swift retreat, but Kane had him by the throat, hoisting him from the ground bodily. His fingers tightened. The lizard man's vertebrae popped and snapped. The life in his eyes died and the assassin cast his rag doll body to the ground at Judah's feet.

"Impressive," Judah said.

Kane fixed his gaze upon the Cinderman leader, his eyes still burning brightly like two hot coals in their sockets. "Shall I kill you next?" he said menacingly.

Judah smiled. "Do what you will," he said, "but you'll find that I don't back down from a fight, whether human or Malkind spirit."

The supernatural light diminished to almost nothing. Kane took one step closer. "Which is why I chose you," he said.

"Just as your power with the Malkind is why I follow you...for now."

"Then we understand one another," Kane said. "Regroup with your Cindermen and prepare for what is coming."

"You believe they will come for us?" Judah asked. "Attempt an attack on the Cindermen?"

"Not necessarily," Kane said. "Even the royal house does not have the time or the means to expend upon you right now. To send their army after a band of murderous rogues would leave them vulnerable to the other houses."

"They'll know that someone on the inside had to help the Cindermen into the city," Judah said. "They'll be searching for a traitor in their midst."

Kane smiled like a ravenous animal about to kill. "And they will certainly find one," he said. "One of my choosing."

### Concubines

"Confound this broth!" Stephen bellowed. His female attendant jumped at the outburst, unsure if she should remove the steaming bowl, or simply bow her way backwards out of the king's presence. She lowered her gaze and simply waited for direction. Possibly, the king would decide to hurl the concoction at the far wall. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Mistress Evelyn stood at the end of the king's bed, watching and waiting.

"Just once before I die I would like to have a meal I could actually enjoy," Stephen complained. "A juicy piece of veal steeped in a buttery sauce of some kind."

"Now, Stephen, even if you got it down, you would never _keep_ it down," she said.

"I don't really care anymore, Evelyn. At least, I might enjoy it for a moment. This foul liquid diet is about to drive me insane."

"It really is for your own good, dear," she said, doing her best to seem soothing. Still, it was foreign to her nature and not easily pulled off.

Stephen narrowed his gaze upon her. "What you mean to say, my love," he said with not a small amount of sarcasm, "is that it is good for House Rainier that I cling to life so that you are not overrun by Rollace or Auturn or some other great house waiting for me to die."

Evelyn lost her motherly demeanor in an instant, her voice growing hard as flint. "And is that not good for you, Stephen? Or do you wish to see all that we have built over the years razed to the ground by our enemies? Would that make you happy, to have your heir killed and your namesake driven from remembrance?"

Stephen's countenance became even more downcast as she berated him, yet he did not interrupt her. Rather, he began to look much like a pouting, spoiled child who has been denied the opportunity to stay up past his bedtime. He muttered under his breath, even as Evelyn continued.

"Yes," she said, "We need you to live, so that House Rainier can successfully raise up a new king. You have known this for some time. You yourself decided what must be done before you became too sick to leave your bed. Now is no time to start behaving like you would see us all dead for spite's sake."

She was breathing hard now, but she did not pace about the room. Evelyn had always been strong. This characteristic, more than anything, was why Stephen had chosen her as his bride and mistress of House Rainier.

He crossed his arms over his chest, huffing out his breaths, if only to have some form of the last word on the matter. "Of course, I don't want our house destroyed," he grumbled. "I never said that."

Evelyn softened again. "Neither is it our wish that you be in this situation," she said. "However, a mortal life is what it is. We must all face death. I would rather have you back in all your glory, Stephen, as you were in the days when you stood against the other houses and made them afraid to challenge your authority."

She smiled as she thought about times past—a genuine smile, for those days were good days for them in their marriage and in their kingdom. It had been during that time that she bore Stephen his heir, and they had been happy together.

"I'm sorry," he said, closing his eyes. "It's just hard to have one's strength sapped away, day by day."

Evelyn nodded, patting his shoulder. "I understand," she whispered, not quite bringing herself to kiss him on the cheek. It had been some time since they were so affectionate toward one another. "Now, eat your broth. Keep your strength up, as best you can, for the sake of your son and the kingdom you will leave him."

Stephen took up his silver spoon again, dipping it into the mixture of broth and diced vegetables. He reluctantly shoved a spoonful into his mouth. He continued to grumble through the process, but remained compliant.

Evelyn turned to his attendant, speaking so that the king could also hear her instruction. "See that he also takes his medicine as prescribed by Physician Calloway."

The female attendant bowed her ascent, keeping her gaze down toward the floor until the queen walked past her.

Evelyn paused at the end of the large bedchamber, glancing toward the woman seated there also taking her meal. "I expect that you will continue to do _your_ duty until the last possible moment."

Bella, the king's bond and a Daughter of Eliam, paused in her eating, but did not look up at the queen. She sat upon a couch near the door, wearing rust colored robes of silk. Her hair was hidden away beneath a scarf of the same color. Her face was unadorned by makeup of any kind, revealing skin creased by lines more and more as the king's health deteriorated.

"Your strength is his strength," Evelyn said, scowling down at the woman. "Fail to keep him alive long enough and I'll see that the Malkind have a new plaything. You will not die when he does unless I allow it."

Bella nodded. "Yes, my lady," she said. "I will do my very best to serve, as always."

Evelyn sniffed at the comment, unwilling to confirm that the king's concubine had always done her best. Inwardly, she knew that Bella had been very easy to command. The woman had obviously been impeccably trained at the abbey during her youth. Evelyn had no real criticism of her performance of her duties. Still, she had no love for Bella either.

She strode from the room, leaving Stephen and Bella in the care of the king's attendants. Evelyn hoped her husband would manage to survive. His health had been in decline over the last two years, the situation becoming dire only recently. It had become imperative that her son complete the bonding ceremony as soon as possible.

A soldier opened the bedchamber door, allowing her out into the hall again. Evelyn headed for the other concubine now residing inside the royal palace. While Bella had been an ideal servant to House Rainier, Raven bode ill for becoming the same. Every time Evelyn thought of the trouble the girl has caused, she ground her teeth in frustration.

She passed down the corridor, her fingers brushing the goldstone delicately. This particular variety was very white with veins of gold running like rivulets through it. The stone work was very precise, accomplished by stone workers from the Guild. Using wands, they were able to smooth and polish the stones to a glossy mirror finish.

Crystals infused with light also adorned the walls in gold and silver sconces, creating a steady unwavering illumination unmatched by standard lamps and candles. All around her, the blessings of their Malkind masters stood as a testament to their pleasure with House Rainier. As much to them as for her family, Evelyn meant to see that this dynasty did not fall.

Coming to a stone stair, she descended to a lower level. Here there was an octagonal chamber with rooms that were hardly more than prison cells. Though they were finely furnished within, their occupants did not have freedom to come and go as they pleased. There were twelve such rooms opening to the chamber, but only one was occupied at this time. Its door was securely locked from the outside where a group of no less than a dozen soldiers stood guard over Evelyn's new guest.

The door was made of metal and had been spelled so as to prevent escape through the use of Raven's power as a Daughter of Eliam. Of course, she was not the first to be housed here. All of House Rainier's bonds from among the Bright Ones had spent at least their first few weeks in one of these rooms within the palace at Rainier. Raven was simply no exception; though, in Evelyn's estimation, the girl was particularly likely to attempt an escape.

Ever since meeting the girl, Evelyn had found her to be problematic. Raven had been willful and prone to skepticism regarding the laws of their kingdom. She placed her own logic and reasoning above that of her superiors, if she disagreed with a policy or law. It had often been the case. Now, she had been found attempting to escape during the Cinderman attack in the city and she had been in the company of a young apprentice bladesmith.

The guards unlocked and opened the door. Evelyn stepped to the threshold, drawing her wand from her sleeve so that Raven could see the motion plainly. Intimidation went a long way when dealing with slaves like these Bright Ones.

Evelyn stood still, her wand hanging in her hand at her side. Raven sat upon the couch at the end of the poster bed. The room was spacious and decorated luxuriously. It could never be said that these Bright Ones were made to live poorly. They were allowed to dwell like royalty in the very palace of the king. Why would they ever desire to leave? Evelyn wondered.

The girl did not speak. Her expression was one of cold detachment. Evelyn could tell already that Raven meant to make matters difficult. Like a spoiled child, she thought. Obviously, the rod had been spared on this one too much.

"Where is Killian?" Raven asked.

Evelyn, ready to address the girl, was surprised by this forwardness. It was not Raven's place to speak until she was spoken to, and then only when an answer was required. Once again, she proved herself willful.

Evelyn ignored the question. She had no intention of being treated disrespectfully by a slave, neither did she intend to reward bad behavior with its desire. She would provide what was necessary and nothing more. Her questions were those that would be answered.

Evelyn flicked the tip of her wand in a warning manner. Raven's eyes turned warily to the instrument. Still, the defiance in the girl's eyes remained.

"You attempted to escape twice while on your way to the palace," Evelyn said. Her next words were on her lips when the girl interrupted her again.

"In both cases, Cindermen were trying to kill me," Raven spat. "Just as they killed Celia on the road."

Evelyn bit back her rebuke for a moment, the wand shuddering in her trembling hand.

"You heard about the attack on the road?" Evelyn asked. She had assumed the news would come to them back at the abbey, of course.

"I saw the attack when it happened," Raven replied.

There was anger there, malice toward the Cindermen and, Evelyn sensed, toward her. However, this statement about witnessing the attack on the road was too much. Evelyn could not let this foolishness pass. She raised her wand toward the girl and then reconsidered.

"What do you mean you _saw_ the attack?" she asked.

Raven did not look away, did not hesitate. "I saw in a vision as the Cindermen battered your armored carriage. They sought to kill you, but could not find you. Instead, they found Celia. Judah, or at least someone I supposed must be their leader, cut her throat and left her body lying in the ditch."

Evelyn gasped unintentionally before realizing it. She knew that Raven spoke true. While the Cindermen attacked her guards, Evelyn had hidden inside a specially designed secret compartment within the middle wall of the carriage. She had watched through a peep-hole as the lion-like leader of the Cindermen killed the young girl she had taken with her from the abbey.

She took a step into the room toward the girl, her wand held out before her, ready to strike if need be. "You can see the future? What else have you seen?"

Raven remained quiet for a moment, her eyes following the tip of the silver Malkind wand. The runes upon the metal glowed faintly; merely a reaction to Evelyn's thoughts. When she actually commanded it, those runes would flare. This was what Raven feared; more pain at Evelyn's hands.

"Speak up, girl," Evelyn said. "When you should be quiet you speak, and when I want answers you hold your tongue?"

Evelyn's wrist cocked back, swishing the tip of the wand to her right. Simultaneously, the wand flared at her thought command, and Raven felt something akin to an invisible hand strike her across the face. Her head jerked sideways, and her cheek burned as much or more as it would have had the queen come to her and physically struck her with the palm of her hand.

"Tell me what you have seen regarding House Rainier and the war," Evelyn demanded again. "Does Nathan succeed his father, or does calamity befall us first?"

Before she had time to think about answering, the wand swished back in the other direction with more force, delivering a blow that sent stars swimming in Raven's vision, knocking her from her perch on the couch to the rug occupying most of the floor space in the cell.

The metallic tang of blood filled Raven's mouth. She could feel her cheek swelling on one side, impeding her speech. She looked up at the queen, Evelyn looming before her with her wand ready.

"I have seen nothing regarding this house," Raven spat as blood gathered upon her lips."

"Lies!" Evelyn shrieked, reminding Raven of the crone from her dreams; the cackling hag who only desired to cause her unending pain.

The wand moved again, but Evelyn used it to inflict nerve pain this time. Raven felt burning in the pit of her stomach; a flame that wanted to devour her innards like worms upon a corpse. She cried out in agony, Evelyn holding her in the grip of the wand's power.

Raven writhed upon the floor as a thousand daggers drove themselves invisibly through her body. All at once, Evelyn relented, and the pain subsided like a switch that has been thrown into its off position. Still, the queen was not through.

"Tell me what you have seen!" she demanded.

Raven could only manage to gasp for the breath that she had been holding against the pain a moment ago.

"I have heard from Kane about the boy," Evelyn said. "You kissed him in the alley and begged him not to fight my soldiers."

She let this statement hang between them for a moment before continuing. "Since you evidently care for him, I will do much worse to this Killian Radden-son. I will peel the flesh from his bones for weeks, and then, when I finally allow him to die, I will toss his ragged corpse in here with you!" She raised the wand again. "Now, tell me what will become of House Rainier!"

Evelyn's words gripped my heart. I forgot the pain I had just experienced, as anger burned through my mind. Power welled within me, like a storm raging out of control. Mistress Evelyn had hurt me many times, but I could not allow the crone to touch Killian. I would stop her—with my final breath if need be.

The door behind Evelyn creaked slightly on its hinge, drawing her attention. It slammed shut at my thought command. She jumped as it banged hard against the frame, but turned back to me with her wand; its runes glowing fiercely.

But I was no longer afraid. After all, what power did she really have? If I choose to disobey, to rebel against her, what could she do that she was not already willing to do anyway? She could not risk killing me, but she had already threatened Killian. Somewhere in this palace, she was holding him prisoner.

A burst of energy, in the form of lightning, erupted from the silver Malkind wand. It struck me like a thunderclap hammering the ground. I was thrown backward into the bannister, my head cracking against the wood hard enough to daze me.

But I refused to be beaten any longer. My eyes flashed with inner fire. The _actual_ fire, burning within the grate to my left, leaped out of the hearth toward Evelyn. Startled, she screamed, waving her wand before her, warding off the flames only at the last possible moment. The sleeve of her garment briefly ignited before she frantically tamped it out. The remaining flames had been redirected into the stone wall, scorching it black before dissipating completely.

Instantly, Evelyn pointed the wand back to me, her hair in disarray, her general appearance disheveled now. There was something present in her eyes that I had never seen before. Fear had taken up residence there.

Soldiers beat upon the heavy door behind her. Frantically they called to their queen. Evelyn waved the wand behind her quickly, keeping her gaze steadfastly upon me. I could feel the pressure as she attempted to use that power to open the door to the soldiers beyond, but I was stronger than this Malkind instrument. It was a tool, powerful to an extent, but nothing compared to the energies commanded by Bright Ones like myself. Otherwise, the houses would never have bothered to cultivate the Daughters of Eliam for their bonds.

We both heard the timbers of the door groaning to obey her, but still the door did not open. I was holding it with an iron will. Evelyn had now pushed me too far and she would face my fury.

I began to realize what I was doing, as my energies rose to the point of bursting, as my anger threatened to overwhelm my reason. I was actually prepared to kill the mistress of House Rainier, Queen of the Realm. If I did this, I would become a criminal, hunted until the day I died. I would never have a home or family, never be allowed to live at peace with Killian.

Evelyn noticed my hesitation. She could at least sense my fury welling. I saw in her expression that she expected me to kill her, but my slight reluctance was her one remaining opportunity to save herself. She did not beg for her life. Instead, being the woman that she was, she attacked.

Flinging herself sideways, in a move that I did not anticipate from a woman of her age, she fired off another more powerful bolt of lightning. She was desperate now; both desiring to save her own life and preserve me as her son's bond. Yet, this was her weakness: she could not kill me.

If the king expired before Prince Nathan could assume the throne, then the monarchy would become available to the other great houses. Political resolutions were slow and cumbersome by nature. A war for power would surely erupt. The strongest house would take the crown for themselves, leaving House Rainier subject. Historically, it had been the practice of every newly reigning king to assassinate the members of his predecessor's family. It was so much easier to start with a clean slate.

Evelyn must have realized that I was the only salvation for her and her family. Yet, I was also the very person trying to kill her and escape my imprisonment. And I meant to do exactly that. She would not harm Killian.

Instinctively, I shielded myself from the lightning bolt that stabbed through the air toward me. I barely managed the effort, instead desperately absorbing part of the energy and redirecting it back at her. Evelyn cried out when the bolt hit her. She flew back into the wall near the door, sliding down in a daze. Her wand rolled from her hand across the floor.

I had her exactly where I wanted her. If I attacked now, there would be nothing she could do to stop me. Mistress Evelyn would die, and I would escape to find Killian. If I left her alive, I would never be with him. Even if we were hunted, at least we would be together. I felt certain Killian would feel the same way.

I reached for the power and then focused it upon Evelyn lying upon the floor. My aim was to put fire into her body and end her life. Finally, I had the will to stop this woman.

Then the door burst open, and everything changed in an instant. Kane stood in the threshold with his right foot out where he had just kicked the door in. He did not speak. He didn't have to.

His presence was all that was required to throw me off of my attack. My plan would come to nothing. I knew that I could not defeat him.

Still, I refused to give up so easily. I had to at least try. If Evelyn was rescued, then she would do all that she had threatened toward Killian on my behalf.

I redirected my energies, throwing caution to the wind. My fire hit him squarely, drawing a cry of pain from the assassin and cries of alarm from the soldiers waiting behind him. The Malkind spirit within the man awakened in time to counterattack, hurling me backwards before I could even mount a defense.

This attack was far more forceful than anything Evelyn had produced during our brief altercation. Her wand, which drew power from the Malkind, was nothing in comparison with the very spirits themselves. This inner malevolence meant to kill me, but Kane still possessed the self-control necessary to rein in the spirit's destructive potential.

As I regained some of my composure, pulling myself off of the floor, a shadow loomed over me. Kane's hand shot out to grab my throat. He pulled me bodily from the floor, my legs dangling beneath me, my breathing choked.

I desperately attempted to muster my energies for another attack, but the Malkind spirit dampened my ability. I felt dizzy, and not just because I couldn't breathe. The spirit was forcing me into a place of confusion and fear. I was trying to fight it, but its power was overwhelming.

"Don't kill her!" I heard Evelyn cry out behind the assassin.

His gaze slipped sidelong in deference, then back to me with a grin. His other hand rose. There was no weapon in his hand. He brought it down, striking me such a blow that my consciousness snuffed out like a candle flame.

### Dungeon Master

Killian woke in the darkness. He remembered the evening before when the soldiers from the royal palace had placed him deep within the dungeon keep. Despite his heroics the day before, and despite his pleas of innocence, he had become a criminal in the eyes of the king and the royal house.

His cell was a dark yet dry place. It was reasonably warm as well, making Killian wonder if the furnace supplying hot water to the palace might not be nearby, possibly somewhere in the structure above him. A spelled gemstone, of little monetary value, sat within a wall-mounted sconce outside the bars of his cage. Still, very little of the amber-colored light emanating from it actually reached his cell.

Killian sighed heavily. As far as he could tell, there were no other prisoners present in this part of the dungeon. A lone palace guard slept at the end of the corridor.

He began to pray to Eliam. Laughter from the back of his cell startled him. Looking from the illuminated hall toward the sound, Killian found that his eyes could not find the source of the noise.

A sulfur match ignited in the dark, lighting the head of a pipe and briefly illuminating the face of the one smoking it. Killian spotted the tell-tale eye patch of the man who had killed both Yeager and his daughter. He rose from the stone floor, ready to attack the man, but stopped when Eye Patch laughed again.

"Don't be so foolish, Killian Radden-son," he said, waving the match sharply to extinguish it, returning the cell to near complete darkness. "You have no weapons, but I do."

Killian heard the metallic scrape of what was probably the man's knife-hand. He remembered the deadly appendage from the attack at the Mangy Cur. Obviously, Eye-patch wasn't a prisoner here, but that still didn't explain why he was in the cell with him, or how he knew Killian's name.

"Who are you?"

Killian had originally supposed that this man was a mere mercenary, a bottom feeder living paycheck to paycheck and having neither honor nor allegiance to any particular great house. However, a mercenary would not have the ability to place himself inside this cell unless he knew the royal family personally. Very uncharacteristic of House Rainier, even during desperate times like these.

He heard the man's leather gauntlets stretching as he stood up in the dark. "My name is Rosta, General Rosta."

A general—this was nothing like what Killian expected. To his knowledge, there was no General Rosta serving with House Rainier. In fact, he had never heard the name before of any great house.

"Why are you trying to kill me?" Killian asked, raising his voice, wondering if the guard would hear and intervene. After all, this man claimed to have at least one weapon, possibly more.

Rosta laughed in the darkness, moving closer, his features just coming into the light now. "Boy, if I wanted you dead, you would already be rotting in the ground like your friends at the inn."

Killian's emotions got the better of him. He thought of Yeager and Wendy. He snapped, lunging for the older man. Weapon or not, he meant to kill the man with the eye patch.

However, Rosta was cunning. He kicked out with a heavy boot, catching Killian's legs. He stumbled forward, right into Rosta's gauntleted elbow.

The blow caught him across his jaw, forcing his head sideways and further confusing his progress towards his adversary. Killian spun like a top, falling sideways. He landed awkwardly against the general's chest, disoriented and seeing stars in his vision.

Rosta laughed in his ear, dropping two forearms like hammers down across Killian's back between his shoulder blades. He crumpled to the floor heavily, the cold stones adding further injury to insult. Rosta began to circle him where he lay struggling to regain his composure.

"Your father was commissioned to create the blessed sword for Prince Nathan," Rosta said. "You happened to be the errand boy transporting it."

Killian spat blood from his mouth onto the floor of the cell, attempting to raise himself up on his arms. "You're too late," he said between ragged breaths. "The Prince already has the sword by now."

Rosta planted a boot in Killian's ribs, lifting the younger man off of the ground with the kick. "You pathetic fool," he said. "Do you really think it matters? House Rainier is compromised to its core. How do you suppose I came to be in here with you?"

"Help! Guard!" Killian cried out desperately.

"Yell, all you want," Rosta said, mockingly. "Half of Stephen's soldiers belong to me already. House Rainier will soon fall."

Killian tried to holler again for the guard, but Rosta kicked out at his side. He managed to flip Killian over onto his back and then planted himself astride the young man. A meaty fist pummeled Killian's face and head over and over again. The other hand was replaced not with a blade, but with some sort of prosthetic, resembling a hand.

"Don't worry, boy, my master isn't ready to kill you yet."

Rosta continued to pulverize his face, raining down vicious blows while laughing the entire time. The guard remained at his post down the hall, seemingly hearing nothing at all. Rosta pounded away even after unconsciousness took Killian, leaving him a bloody mess upon the dungeon floor.

Radden waited impatiently in the vestibular seating area outside King Stephen's private audience chamber. It was here that the king, in days gone by, would see certain of his subjects by special appointment. On one occasion, Radden had enjoyed the privilege of meeting the king personally in this very chamber. It had been on that day that Stephen had commissioned his first weapon, a sword, from him.

However, he had been instructed to wait here today by one of the queen's stewards. No doubt, King Stephen was indisposed, being too sick to see anyone personally now. If Radden was lucky, perhaps the queen would at least see him regarding Killian's arrest. He did make it clear that he was the boy's father, when he arrived at the palace over an hour ago.

Now, however, his nerves were beginning to wear thin. He had been treated politely enough, so far, but the steward had given him a wary look when he had told him what his business was regarding. Intuition told him that Killian's arrest was not a secret among those working in the palace.

Radden waited another twenty minutes before a servant appeared from behind one of the gilded doors to the chamber.

"Her Majesty, will see you briefly," the young female servants said to him, ushering him from his seat with a beckoning hand.

Radden was quick to his feet, striding through the door not a little indignantly. Still, he managed at the last moment to remember decorum. He was about to meet with the most powerful woman in the kingdom. Considering that her husband, the king, was near death and her son was preparing to take possession of the throne from his father, Evelyn was more accurately the most powerful _person_ in the entire kingdom.

Upon entering the room, Radden found before him a purple carpet with gold embroidery leading from the door to the dais where sat a throne of gold cushioned in that same royal purple. Queen Evelyn—though her title was actually Mistress of House Rainier—sat upon that royal throne, staring at Radden as he made his approach along the carpet. She remained statue still, only her eyes following his progress.

Radden bowed to her before the dais, dropping to one knee. Evelyn did not wait for him to brook his complaint. Instead, she immediately took command of the exchange, catching Radden somewhat by surprise.

"You have come to beg for the life of your son," Evelyn said matter-of-factly.

Radden stammered only for a moment. "My Queen, should I _beg_ for Killian's life when he has committed no crime? Unless, of course, saving the prince's bond from certain death at the hands of the Cindermen has lately become a crime. My son fought bravely against the enemies of House Rainier in the interests of the royal family. I confess myself perplexed by his arrest."

Evelyn's face grew a little harder at that point. "Then allow me to enlighten you," she said.

Radden swallowed against the gathering lump in his throat in expectation.

"Your son, while displaying great courage against the Cindermen, also overstepped his bounds by attempting to run away with my son's Bright Lady and bond," Evelyn explained. "Before you attempt to persuade me that this was simply his way of taking the young woman out of harm's way, I will inform you of the fact that my bodyguard, Kane, witnessed your son kissing Raven just prior to my guards seizing him on charges of sedition against House Rainier."

Radden stammered. If what Evelyn was telling him was true, there might be no saving his son from the block. How had this happened? Surely, Killian would not have dared to do such a thing. Still, he could not accuse the queen of lying about the matter, either. To do so would see his entire family, possibly even his extended family, beheaded along with Killian.

"Majesty," he said finally, "I know my son. There must be some logical explanation for all of this."

Evelyn flashed him a sly smile then. "Yes, I believe there is a very logical explanation. The boy became fascinated with a very beautiful young woman that he risked his life to rescue from the Cindermen. In the heat of the moment, perhaps, he lost his head and thought about what it might be like to be with such a creature. He further forgot himself and actually committed the brazen act, kissing the girl in the hope that she might fall in love with him, possibly even run away with him while they had the chance away from prying eyes."

Radden began to sweat as Mistress Evelyn continued. This was not going well, not at all. He had hoped to appeal to her sense of reason; to clear up a simple misunderstanding. Surely, Shalindra had not notified him of Killian's arrest in vain. Surely, there was still some way to save his only son.

Evelyn finally paused to allow her words and their weight to sink into Radden's mind.

Radden dropped his head. "My Queen, I beg your mercy for Killian. He is only a foolish boy. Is there nothing I can do to save him?"

Evelyn stood then and turned herself to leave the dais by way of the private door behind the throne. Two royal guards waited for her there to attend to her. She paused as the door was opened by one of the soldiers, turning her head back to Radden. He had watched her go with mounting hopelessness.

"You can pray to your dead god that my son's bonding with the young Daughter of Eliam goes exactly as planned," she said. "Only when my son is bonded and ready to assume the throne of his father will I find myself in a merciful mood. Until that time, you may remain as my guest, or go to your home and await my decision. For your faithful service to House Rainier, over the years, I will leave the choice up to you."

Evelyn proceeded through the door, one of her guards following after. The other soldier remained in the throne room, shutting the door after the queen and her escort. Radden stood, turning from the throne toward the doors he had entered by. He had to find Shalindra in order to know what Eliam expected of him. Surely, his God could stop this before it was too late. But how to find the priestess? He could not leave the palace while Killian's fate remained undecided.

A servant stood near the doors, waiting for him. He turned to look back at the door where Evelyn had just left by. No, he decided. He could not leave his son alone here. He might never see him again, if he did that.

Turning back to the waiting servant, he said, "Might I be allowed to wait upon the queen's decision regarding my son here at the palace?"

"Yes, sir," the younger woman said. "Come with me and we'll see that you are made comfortable, until Mistress Evelyn sends again for you."

"Thank you," Radden said with a slight bow of his head.

The servant allowed him through the double doors and then closed them behind. She proceeded to lead him from the chamber vestibule toward another wing of the palace. Radden didn't know what to expect, but he began his vigil of prayer silently even while walking toward the place where he would wait on the fate of his son.

### Twain Becomes One

I woke hours before, when servants came to bathe me. At first, I had supposed that my cell had been completely cleaned after the battle between myself and Evelyn and her hired assassin, Kane. However, upon closer inspection, I came to realize that this was simply another chamber like that one.

When the queen's servants came to me, I roused from my soft bed, immediately seeking to escape. However, Kane was there also, standing just beyond the threshold. He and the Malkind spirit inhabiting his mortal body would be more than enough to keep me prisoner here, as the queen required.

Though the servants whispered as much, when they were with me in my room, I already knew what was coming next. The purpose for my being here at all—the bonding—must have been completed as soon as possible. This is the reason that they had come to prepare me. This was the reason why Mistress Evelyn kept me alive now.

When the servants came to dress me in the shimmering gown that would serve for the coming ceremony, Kane was there again. He waited beyond the door while I was made ready. I considered my options. How could I escape? How could I find my love within this palace and make him safe from Evelyn's threats?

"I've come to escort you to the temple," he said. "We don't want any performances like we had earlier, now do we?"

I opened my mouth to protest.

"After all," he interrupted, "Killian is depending upon your cooperation in order to keep his head."

I closed my mouth again. The plans for escape formulating in my head evaporated on the instant. I stammered a moment before answering.

"If anything happens to him—" I began.

"Then it will be lethal and entirely your fault Bright Lady," he interrupted. "Now, you will accompany me without incident to the temple. You will give your blood according to the ritual and become the bond slave of Prince Nathan." He smiled brightly then. "All this you will do without reservation because you desire to keep that young man alive."

"Is that a guarantee that Killian will not be harmed, if I cooperate?"

"It is my understanding that the queen intends him no harm, as long as the bonding is completed as planned," he explained. "And that is entirely up to you."

I attempted to relax, allowing all of the pent up tension in my limbs to flow away. The mounting energy subsided within me. I was in control. There would be no outburst; not as long as Killian was safeguarded by my obedience to Evelyn's demands.

I loved him. I had loved Killian before I knew he was a real man, before I even knew his true name. He had always been more than a mere dream.

He had only come into danger because of me, but now I could save his life. All I had to do was make myself willing to give him up and become the bond slave to the new king of the realm. My desires had to be sacrificed so that Killian could live.

He would go on without me. My dreams of a life with him would be forfeit. As brief as it had been, we would never touch each other again. My hand would never again be held in his. Our lips had come together once, but nevermore.

No doubt, he would one day forget all about me. He would move on with his life outside the walls of this palace. Another woman would capture his heart. He would love her and she would bare him children. It would be as it must be, but always he would be mine within my heart.

Tears ran hot down my cheeks. I could not stop them and had no desire to. Kane grinned at this.

"I will do as Mistress Evelyn commands," I said.

When we arrived at the temple, I was somewhat surprised to find how simple the chamber was. There was no costly array, only alabaster blocks creating a circular room no more than fifty feet across. It seemed to me that this room was completely out of place within the palace.

At the center of this chamber a pedestal sat. However, upon closer inspection, I found that it was actually a laver of some sort. What appeared to be glass reflected the lamp light cast from sconces that encircled us. Only when its surface shimmered did I realize the glass was actually an almost perfectly still pool of water.

Evelyn and Prince Nathan awaited us inside. They stood beside the pedestal and its pool of dark water. Nathan was dressed in a robe of white linen with white breeches. He was a handsome young man, but I had no desire to look at him. Next to him, his mother waited with her silver Malkind wand in her right hand. Nathan held a bejeweled, golden goblet.

Kane paused at the entrance to the temple, gesturing for me to approach the queen and the prince. I had the feeling that perhaps Kane was not welcome at this ceremony. Possibly, it was because he was not of royal blood. Surely, it could have nothing to do with the fact that he was possessed by a Malkind spirit. After all, this was a place where the Malkind were worshipped.

"Come here, child," Evelyn said to me.

I approached as I was bidden. I was doing my very best to obey, knowing that Killian's life depended upon how I behaved at this crucial time. Should Evelyn and her son be disappointed, my love would surely die by her command. With Kane nearby, I would be powerless to stop that from happening.

I joined them at the pedestal, not knowing exactly what was meant happen now. The procedure for bonding had never actually been explained to us growing up at the abbey. We had been taught a somewhat romanticized version, but by the time girls reached the age nearing maturity, none of us believed it anymore. A slave was a slave, after all.

"Your right arm," she said to me.

As I proffered my bare arm toward the pool, Prince Nathan dipped the bejeweled goblet into the water. He brought the cup out and set it beneath my arm on the lip of the pedestal. After hearing Kane's admonition, I had already guessed what would now be added to that water.

Evelyn lifted her wand, placing the tip of it on my wrist. This was almost certainly going to be painful. I noticed that Nathan was not offering his flesh in this ceremony, but then it was my power which he intended to take in, not vice versa.

Instead, the prince removed a sword from a polished scabbard at his side. The blade was beautiful and even appeared to be slightly luminescent in the half light of this bare chamber. I recognized the weapon as being the same used by Killian to stop Kane's attack in the alley. It had even rebounded the Malkind's energies back at the assassin, knocking him from his horse. Like me, the blessed blade would constitute a binding between the Malkind worshippers and Eliam's creation.

I could not say that I understood why Eliam allowed the Malkind and their followers such liberty and power in this world. After all, he is the creator of all things. Why did he not simply destroy them all and allow his children to reign here instead?

Evelyn began speaking in a tongue I was not familiar with. Nathan placed the sword into the pool. It stood out of the water with the pommel straight up.

The queen closed her eyes, and the runes of her wand began to glow with power. She dragged the tip of her silver wand across my wrist, opening an incision there. The pain was blinding. This was not merely a bloodletting. It felt like something sucking the life from my very soul.

Evelyn gripped my arm tighter as I feebly attempted to pull away. My blood flowed into the chalice, turning the water within a murky red. Evelyn pulled my arm further out over the pool itself. Nathan took the cup into his hands, as my blood continued to flow out of the wound Evelyn had made into the water of the pool. It swirled around the blade like a living thing.

The sword glowed brighter now. It began to lift out of the pool, floating into the air, blade down toward the center of the pedestal, water cascading in rivulets down the steel. Somehow, my blood was a part of this, possibly even causing this to happen.

Nathan smiled broadly at the result of the ritual while his mother continued her liturgy. My blood continued to flow. I felt faint and weak in my legs. The strength of Evelyn's arm may have been the only thing holding me up now.

Evelyn suddenly opened her eyes, looking at her son. "Drink her power into your body, my son!"

The prince obeyed, eagerly tipping the chalice containing the sacred water and my blood to his lips. He gulped down the contents greedily, like some thirsting traveler crawling out of the Northern Desert. I saw Killian in my mind's eye. He was beaten and bruised, lying upon the floor of a dungeon cell deep beneath us in the depths of the royal palace.

I suspect that what happened next was completely unexpected by everyone in the room. The results of this ritual were not a triumph. It could not possibly have been called a success.

The brilliantly luminescent sword came stabbing down through the water of the pool into the foundation stone of the pedestal itself. Nathan staggered backward, dropping the bejeweled chalice upon the flagstones. He was choking, clawing at his own throat, gasping in agony.

Energy was thrown outward from the sword, shattering the pedestal. Evelyn barely managed to throw a shield up with her wand before pieces of rock hurled through the air at us. The shield forced the power of the explosion away from us just in time. Red hot fragments beat against the opposite wall, and a wave of hot wind blasted around the circular chamber, buffeting us like a whirlwind.

Nathan was foaming at the mouth, lying on his back upon the floor. Evelyn lunged for her son with her wand, waving it over him. I sank down beside them, my strength spent. My wrist was still bleeding. I concentrated what little strength I had on stopping the flow from my arm.

I barely managed to muster enough power to close the wound. Still, a purple bruise spread beneath the skin. The pain had diminished to nearly nothing by now.

Kane swept into the chamber amid the smoke and debris. Many of the wall sconces had been extinguished by the blast of wind from the explosion. He stood over Evelyn and Nathan, but did not interfere.

The queen barely took notice. She worked feverishly with her wand, attempting to draw out the poison from his body. That was what this looked like. He looked like someone who had ingested something deadly.

Gradually, Nathan's spasms began to subside. His labored breathing evened out. Evelyn lowered her wand and its luminescent runes diminished in brightness.

Evelyn looked sternly at me and then up at Kane still standing over us all. The blessed sword had shattered the pedestal and its pool of water and now stood upright, buried halfway into the foundation stone. Nathan appeared to be unconscious, but he seemed better now.

"What happened?" Evelyn asked her assassin. "Why did the ritual fail, and what has happened to my son?"

Kane looked down at the sleeping prince and then to Evelyn and finally to me. "I suspect, Mistress, the girl cannot bond with Prince Nathan at the moment."

Evelyn looked at me and then at the assassin. "Why not?"

Kane grinned in my direction. "Obviously, the girl is already bonded to someone else."

### Fatal Truths

My mind reeled at Kane's statement. Already bonded to someone? I had only ever been at the abbey. I had not been bonded to anyone at any time. Dazed, I remained on the ground wondering at this possibility—only it couldn't be a possibility! Could it?

"What are you talking about?" Evelyn asked, standing abruptly to face her servant.

She only stood to the height of Kane's throat, but she did not show any hesitation. Somehow, Evelyn was not intimidated by the assassin. No doubt, he could have killed her on the spot. We all realized this, but Evelyn didn't care.

She was King Stephen's wife, a queen, and she would not cower. Despite my feelings of contempt for the woman, I could not help but be impressed by her demeanor. She commanded respect by title and privilege and attitude alone.

I had no such courage as this. I had no title or position of power. I was a Daughter of Eliam with great control over the energies present in the creation. Still, quite honestly, Kane scared me to death.

"Mistress," he said deferentially, "I have seen this before. Her blood is compromised."

"But how is that possible?" she said to him, turning to look at me disapprovingly. "Are you saying she performed the ritual with another?"

"No, Mistress," he said. "I believe, in this case, it may be as simple as a kiss."

"A kiss?" she said. "You mean the boy?"

The assassin nodded once.

"A bond made by her love for him and a physical connection," he said. "The blessed blade appears to also be connected to him. He used it to stop my advance in the alley, when I came upon them together."

Evelyn stammered for a moment. "But how?" she said. "I don't understand."

"Perhaps, Mistress," Kane replied, "it is more important to believe that it has happened and come to terms with what must be done to undo it."

Evelyn turned back to him. "It can be undone?"

Kane grinned in his devilish way again. "A bond can only be broken by death."

The realization of that statement suddenly hit me like a tidal wave. Could it really be true that Killian and I were bonded, as Kane had said? Immediately, I felt that I knew the answer to that question.

I loved him and would die for him. I could feel him even now somewhere in the dungeon below, feel his pain and sorrow. We were one, despite the fact that I had no idea how a kiss could do such a thing. And, because that bond stood in her way, Evelyn would surely kill him in order to break it.

"No!" I screamed, attempting to come to my feet.

Evelyn's hand came down hard, striking me across the face. "Silence!" she bellowed, her voice echoing off of the stone walls of the Malkind temple chamber.

"Hold her here," she said to Kane. She raised her wand. "I'll deal with Radden's son myself."

She started out of the chamber, her hair and her dress in a disheveled state. Kane remained behind, standing over me as I wiped blood from my mouth where Evelyn had struck me. The assassin smiled down at me.

"No, please!" I pleaded, as she walked over the threshold of the room. "You promised he would come to no harm, if I cooperated."

Evelyn turned then, her wand held so that she could strike out at me if she desired. Yet, the runes remained dark.

"You are the one who killed him, girl," she hissed. "You killed him with a kiss."

I was left in the smoking ruin of the Malkind Temple. Honestly, I couldn't help but wish that I had been the direct cause of this disaster. I would have liked nothing better right now than to set this entire palace aflame with Evelyn and her son and her assassin inside. Wishful thinking, but impractical now.

Prince Nathan had been removed to another room where a physician was looking him over for injury. It may have been that he was incapable of continuing with the ritual today. It was too bad my blood hadn't killed him straight away. At the very least, this mayhem might have bought me some bit of precious time. Yet, what to do?

Kane stood guard here in the chamber. He remained so still, I was beginning to wonder if he had fallen asleep. But I was sure that wasn't the case. If I tried to escape, or move an inch from where I had been left sitting upon the flagstones, he would know it and stop me.

The revelation of my apparent bonding still had me reeling. With my mind, I thought it must be impossible. Yet, with my heart, I felt like it had been true for a long time—ever since I had fallen in love with this boy in my dreams while still at the abbey.

Could I have bonded with him in my dreams? Perhaps, it hadn't been the kiss at all. Maybe, I had been bonded to Killian for much longer. Perhaps, that was why I was able to communicate with him in those dreams.

My eyes remained fixed upon Kane standing in the chamber near the blessed sword. Minutes ago, the assassin had attempted to remove it from the base of the pedestal. He couldn't even keep his hand upon it. I almost laughed, when he jerked his hand away. He looked like he had taken hold of a hot coal.

My thoughts went to Killian—not just wondering about him, but trying to seek him out and make some connection like we had in our mutual dreams. This required me to split my mind. Finding him turned out to be almost effortless. Was our connection really so strong?

He was still in his cell in the dungeon nearly one hundred feet below and to the south. Killian had regained consciousness. I could feel his waking mind. A more concerted effort on my part allowed me to sense his thoughts.

Killian wanted very badly to get out of his cell. He was angry and concerned. These thoughts gave me pause and broke my heart. He was concerned not for himself but for my well-being. He wanted to save me from my fate as Nathan Rainier's slave.

Something else was happening now. I sensed new thoughts, turmoil and hatred. He was focused upon someone. The queen had arrived in the dungeon.

I pushed my mind out even further, trying to join as completely as possible with Killian, so that I might know what was being said. Words were exchanged between them, but I could not make out the conversation. Still, I could feel the mounting tension in that chamber far below.

Something happened that made Killian fear. His life was about to end. I could sense his resignation, his desire to live, and the understanding that he would not.

I cried out in my mind, desiring to see him, to feel him in my arms. Why could I not have had a vision of him now? I reached into the depths of power residing inside me, as a Daughter of Eliam, more than ever before. Killian came into sharp focus with Evelyn standing before the bars of his prison cell.

She raised her wand to strike him down. The runes glowed brightly. This all happened in a fraction of a second. I had no time. Evelyn meant to end his life. Eliam, help me! What can I possibly do?

Killian stood when the door opened at the end of the corridor. He heard the voice of the queen commanding the guard to attend to her. The big oaf complied quickly, making every attempt to bow and scrape for her as he ushered her down the hall toward his cell.

The guard brought a torch with him and placed it in an iron sconce upon the block wall. He then stepped away, so that Evelyn might speak to the prisoner unhindered. Still, he remained only a few feet away, just in case Killian attempted to harm her in some way; though, with thick steel bars standing between them, it seems unlikely.

Evelyn started a little when she saw him. She had not expected the young man to be so battered about the face. His jaw was swollen and purple, as well as around his eyes. Rivulets of blood had dried upon his skin, issuing from cuts and scrapes inflicted recently.

He appeared rather ghastly, and Evelyn wondered for a moment if the soldiers might have entertained themselves after the boy's capture. Still, she had not come down here to do the boy any favors. He was the cause for the ritual failing. He was the reason why her son had almost died while attempting to bond with the girl. Killian Radden-son had outlived his usefulness.

The young man came to the bars in his fury. His voice was muffled. His jaw appeared to have been broken during the beating he had suffered. That was now the least of his worries.

Evelyn found herself yelling at the boy, telling him how foolish he had been to interfere in her affairs. She was angry, but Killian Radden-son was only incidental to the situation. Evelyn's temper had loosed because her family was in danger.

A civil war could erupt over the fate of the throne at any time. House Rainier was ill prepared for a major conflict. They might hold the capital city, but they're power and resources had waned since Stephen's health began failing him. The multitude of business contracts held by the throne had gone to rival houses in recent years, making them more powerful while Rainier slowly diminished.

Evelyn had attempted to intervene, to make things right and negotiate their long held arrangements. However, the king's health was public knowledge. Those businessmen who had once dealt faithfully with the crown, knew how to recognize the winds of change blowing. They hedged their bets on Rainier's rivals which had only fueled the likelihood that one of the great houses would take advantage of the situation and seize control.

As queen, Evelyn saw her kingdom slipping away day by day. As a mother, her son stood to be executed in order for power to transfer to whatever house chose to put its heir on the throne. As a wife, she felt alone. Her husband had become a burden, and a childish one at that.

Now, her anger burned hot and she would no longer hold it back. This boy must die in order to have any hope of saving her great house. She raised her Malkind wand, pointing it at Killian's chest. The boy, for his part, did not flinch away. He stood firm, ready to receive what she would deal to him.

The wand brightened as its runes illuminated with the power Evelyn awakened with her thoughts. Those thoughts were death to Killian Radden-son. The power of the Malkind spirits would fulfill her desire gladly. A bolt of power erupted like lightning from the glowing tip of the wand.

It forked outward through the prison bars and struck the wall behind, leaving a flaming scorch mark upon the stones. Evelyn stammered, searching for the boy she meant to kill. However, Killian Radden-son was no longer there.

### Transport

I gasped as the energy from Evelyn's Malkind wand charged through the air at my love. My eyes flew open, only to find Killian standing before me in the temple chamber next to the shattered pedestal. He had been beaten severely about the face and head, but I could still see the shock in his expression.

I had no idea what had happened. One moment Killian had been below in the dungeon facing a bolt of power from Evelyn's wand that would surely have killed him, the next he was standing before me, appearing without so much as a sound. We stared at one another in bewilderment for mere seconds before I remembered who else was in the chamber with us.

I turned just as Kane's eyes opened to find Killian there with us. A look of disbelief crossed his face, but only for a moment. He drew his sword, preparing to charge at Killian and kill him. I reacted in the only way I knew how.

Power issued forth from me, striking Kane an invisible blow that sent him tumbling across the chamber floor. I knew my attack was only possible because the assassin had been focusing on Killian rather than me, but at least it bought us a few precious seconds. Killian needed no prodding. He spotted the blessed sword standing out of the pedestal stone and reached for it.

I began to warn him that the weapon would not come free, but Killian was already taking hold. The blade practically sprang out of the stone at his touch. Killian rushed ahead, putting himself between me and the assassin who was now getting up off of the floor.

When he saw Killian with the sword, anger burned across his face. He charged and struck expertly, and I feared that his superior skill would overcome Killian, but I was wrong. Killian not only held his own as the battle began, he advanced upon the assassin with steady powerful blows. His technique was as blindingly fast as Kane's, and I could not help but wonder how much of this was Killian and how much was the blade blessed by Eliam.

Kane realized that his natural advantage was gone in this contest. Killian had been well-trained and was highly adept at sword fighting, despite his youth. He wouldn't beat my love with skill alone.

He resorted to his unnatural advantage instead, choosing a spiritual attack empowered by the Malkind spirit using his skin. The assassin parried a sword strike from Killian and then dodged back, letting loose with a blast of power meant to topple my love, but Killian parried the energy of the attack with the blessed blade and stepped closer, unleashing a terrible energy attack of his own.

Killian swiped the air with the blessed blade, slashing an arc of light before him that issued forth like an illuminated shock wave. The attack was unexpected and savage, pummeling the assassin and knocking his weapon out of his hand. Kane hit the wall and sank to the floor.

Killian lunged at the man while he was down, while I waited behind, wondering how long it would take Evelyn to realize what had happened to her prisoner below and come up here. She might have already been on her way. I wasn't sure if she would come alone or bring her soldiers with her. Alone, I might be able to take her in a fight while Killian battled the possessed assassin. After all, he was doing better than I would have expected.

However, as Killian came to deal the deathblow, while he was down, Kane roared in unnatural fury. His voice was now a mixture of several dissonant tones, all spilling forth like sewage from an overflowing gutter. The demon was fully awake and angry.

He swiped his hand toward Killian, igniting the air with flames of fire meant to keep my love and his weapon at bay while he recovered. Killian paused, shielding us with the sword which had responded to the counterattack with an inner luminosity. It's almost as if the presence of the demon's power had excited Eliam's energies placed upon the sword.

"Kill him quickly, before the Malkind spirit takes over completely!" I yelled over the din of battle.

Killian attempted to charge toward the wounded assassin again before he could recover himself. Another roar of power caused the stones beneath our feet to shatter. He was on his feet again, and the eyes were glowing brightly with inner spiritual light.

I felt the oppressive influence of the Malkind spirit gathering within the temple chamber. It felt like a storm coming, building in strength, readying a release that would sweep away everything in its path. We could not stay here.

Kane's hands came up toward Killian. They burst into flames—flames that he meant to hurl at my love. The wall behind the assassin ignited, becoming an inferno that threatened to sweep around the room and surround us in fire. When that happened, we would both be consumed.

I delved deep into the well of power within my person as a Daughter of Eliam. Thrusting my hands skyward toward the ceiling, I then seized hold upon it with my mind and dragged my hands down. The entire ceiling collapsed down upon Kane, snuffing out the flames gathering about him. I pulled Killian back as the falling stones became an avalanche that would destroy us also if we remained.

He followed me out of the chamber into the corridor, barely escaping the archway before it also came down in the conflagration. The sounds of shouting and crying resounded all around us. The collapse of this chamber might have set off a chain reaction of ruin in the rest of the palace. There was no sign of Evelyn yet, and Kane remained beneath the pile of stones for now.

Intuition told me, however, that he had not perished. The Malkind spirit could have strengthened his body to withstand the downfall of the ceiling, or might have simply used its considerable power to shield him from harm. Either way, he would be back.

"We must flee while we can," I said, pulling him by the hand.

The sound of stones falling came to us through the corridors of the palace with the screams of those trapped beneath them. Guards and other palace denizens passed us, going in different directions, reacting to the emergency. None of them paid us any attention. We were no different to them than anyone else trying to escape the scene as parts of the palace structure collapsed around us.

We ran through passages, turning at intersections, attempting to find our way out. Killian took over leading after we passed several places where rubble had fallen into the corridor. "I know how to get to the stables from here," he said, smiling. I nodded and followed him, still holding to his hand. The sword remained out in his other, ready in case we ran into any opposition.

Soon, we found ourselves in stables as Killian had planned. There were two rows of stalls here and many fine animals to choose from. We spotted a dappled mare in one stall, and Killian began to saddle her, when a loud equine scream came to us from several stalls down.

We looked to find another horse shaking its head out over its stall door, as if to motion us down to its location.

"Esmeralda!" Killian exclaimed happily. "What are you—?" His expression became concerned as we reached the mare and her stall. "Father must be here at the palace because of me," he said.

The horse, surprisingly, seemed to understand and agree with this statement, nodding her head.

"This is your horse?" I asked curiously.

"More like a part of our family," Killian said, stroking her muzzle affectionately.

The mare regarded me warily. I stroked her muzzle, and her thoughts became known to me. She was angry over Killian's father and fearful for his life. She was concerned about my presence with Killian also. She didn't trust me.

I shared my thoughts of Killian with her, allowing her to feel my love for him. I sensed a deep affection for Killian from her also. She meant to protect him. Still, after only a moment, she began to relax. Killian regarded us both curiously, smiling.

"Well, it seems you possess the gift with animals as well," he said.

I smiled at him fondly, releasing Esmeralda. "I am a Daughter of Eliam, am I not?" I said. "All of us have the ability to share thoughts with intelligent creatures. We are all part of what Eliam made." Then what he said actually sank in. "Can you share thoughts with her also?"

Killian nodded. "Sometimes she tells me things I don't want to hear," he said. "She can be fussy when she gets her dander up."

I smiled and then realized we were delaying too long. Kane would emerge from the rubble and come after us. Evelyn also, when she realized what had happened, would send her soldiers. We had to escape while we could.

"I think I can sense what you're thinking also," he said. "At least, that is, when we are close like this. However, I cannot leave my father here at the palace with all of this trouble brewing."

I did not say anything. I could understand why Killian would want to rescue his father first. Of course, he would. It was only natural, and his father would certainly be in danger after all that had happened this evening.

Killian's expression changed from concerned to resolute. "No," he said, "we cannot delay any longer. You're right, the soldiers will come for us. Either father is safe now and might find his way from here, or he is already a prisoner. If the latter, then I'll have to come back for him. However, not before I see you safely away from this castle."

"You must be in terrible pain," I realized, examining his facial injuries more closely. "You can barely talk where I can understand you."

"I'll be all right," Killian said attempting to grin, but failing rather miserably because of his swollen jaw.

I laid my hand lightly upon his skin. Immediately, I received a deeper understanding of his injury. "Your jaw is broken in three places," I said. "The rest of it is all swelling, cuts and bruises. I can easily heal them. The bone will take longer and be painful."

Killian laid his hand over mine upon his face. He attempted a pained smile, closing his eyes as he appeared to enjoy my touch. I knew it must hurt just having anyone touch it, but he didn't let on that he experienced any discomfort. Still, it was obvious he must be in terrible pain every moment.

"Not here," he said. "I have to get you to safety."

"Then you'll allow me to take care of you?" I asked.

He nodded as I withdrew my hand. I motioned toward the stall door and it opened at my thought command. Esmeralda came out to us, still wearing the saddle Killian's father must have rode in on. Killian hopped into the saddle and then reached down to bring me up also.

I settled in behind him, doing my best to ignore the discomfort of the gown in this awkward position. This was no time for expressing my concerns over it. We were running for our lives, not attending a ball.

Esmeralda walked us out of the stall and then took up a canter through the stables. When we reach the courtyard beyond, we spotted soldiers. Killian kicked his heels gently in the stirrups and Esmeralda rocketed forward, escaping the courtyard before the bewildered soldiers there realized that we shouldn't even be there, let alone riding a horse at a hard clip away from the palace. They only seemed to know that trouble was brewing inside those gilt walls, and they should be investigating that situation rather than concerning themselves with a young man and woman going out for a ride through the countryside.

Evelyn manipulated her wand, gesticulating wildly in her attempt to uncover what remained of the temple where she had left her servant, Kane, and the young Daughter of Eliam. Thankfully, she had sent her son, Nathan, to the infirmary prior to going to the dungeon in order to kill Radden's son. Had she not, this attack upon the palace, or earthquake, or whatever it was would surely have claimed his life when the entire ceiling of the temple came crashing down.

The entire palace was in a panic. People were trapped beneath debris and blocks of stone. No one seemed to know how this all had happened, and Evelyn had no time to investigate whether the palace was besieged. Nathan had gone to take command of his troops in the absence of his father, the King. Evelyn was more concerned right now with whether they still had a Daughter of Eliam alive that could be bonded to her son, so that he could assume his father's throne.

Certainly, if the palace was under attack, she would have to act quickly to have him made king. House politics were such that the throne could not be transferred while a living monarch reigned. They would have to kill Nathan, but she had ways to keep him alive; escaping by one of many secret tunnels being one of those methods.

Still, without the girl, she and Nathan would be back at square one of the process. At first Evelyn had moved the stones gingerly. Now, she simply levitated them with her wand as quickly as possible and flung them aside into the corridor. Servants who had thought to stand by and assist her had been forced out of the way lest their bones be smashed beneath the flying rubble.

Evelyn could only hope that her assassin, Kane, had been able to take the girl and escape in time. However, none of the people she had come across on her way back had seen any sign of him. He might be lying here beneath this heap of rubble with the girl.

The queen was sweating profusely now, expending her mental energies as fast as she could, using her power to move the heavy stones. She was desperate now. All might be lost. Her family would come to ruin, or worse. They would be slain by whatever rival house had come knocking on their door today; if indeed it was an attack.

So far, she had seen no foreign soldiers within the palace. She could only hope that this was a chance earthquake or something similar. It was not unheard of. However, the disappearance of the boy down in the dungeon seemed far too coincidental. Her wand would not have obliterated him. Something else had happened, though she had no idea what. Still, if the boy did yet live, he would have to be destroyed in order for the bonding to be successful.

So many problems all coming at once. Tears streamed down Evelyn's face, streaking the dust upon her skin with muddy rivulets. What, she wondered, could she have done to deserve such a turning of the fates. She had always been faithful to her Malkind masters, and in turn they had kept House Rainier in power. Surely, there was none so faithful as her that they should seek to transfer the crown to another host. Oh, what could be happening?

Another stone removed and was tossed aside. Evelyn spied what appeared to be human flesh—a limb, a leg, perhaps? Emboldened by the discovery, she worked at an even more frantic pace now. In moments, she saw that the bloody limb was indeed a leg, but it belonged to a man. The surrounding tattered clothing was black. Undoubtedly, this was her assassin lying dead beneath the stones. This could also mean that Raven was nearby; entombed like her servant and deceased.

She cleared the rest of the rubble from Kane's body. He was battered and bloody, but his chest still rose and fell. He was alive. His fingers, though gnarled and torn, began to move. Evelyn could hardly believe her servant had survived such a calamity.

She knew that she had removed nearly a ton of stone from off his body. It was an impossibility, to say the least. However, Evelyn had long known that her bodyguard was not a normal man. There were too many ways in which he surpassed mere mortals, though she had never asked him why, and he had never said.

"Kane!" she said urgently.

The assassin did not react to her voice. She called again and again, but he remained unconscious. Evelyn stepped toward his body, waving her wand over him. It vibrated in her hand. The runes glowed brightly, although Evelyn had not initiated any spell. The Malkind wand was reacting to Kane somehow.

Electrical charges began to dance between the tip of the wand and various parts of Kane's body, dozens of them connecting and dissipating again. His body began to jerk and spasm. His eyes suddenly flew open, and he sat upright. The runes of the wand extinguished then, and the flow of power between the assassin and her Malkind instrument ceased.

Evelyn wasted no time with sympathy. "Where is the girl?"

Kane worked his jaw and rotated his neck at odd angles, the joints popping. He did the same with his fingers and then stretched to pop his back. The wounds, though bloody, were already beginning to heal themselves. Evelyn watched as his lacerations sealed. She didn't bother to question how.

"Where is she?"

Kane looked up at her wearily now. "She has escaped with the boy," he said testily.

"The boy was here?"

"I had assumed you were going to kill him, Mistress," he said, his tone not a little accusing. "However, he materialized in this chamber instead and used the sword against me. The girl also aided him with her power, causing this destruction to the room."

"Not only the room," Evelyn said, "but practically the whole palace. How could you let them escape?"

She began to pace the floor.

"I attempted to stop them," Kane explained, extricating himself from the floor to stand by her. "However, I believe you wanted the girl alive."

Evelyn stopped momentarily. "Well, of course, I want her alive. I must have her alive in order to complete the ritual! You must get her back. There can be no delay."

"If your guards have not discovered her and the boy already, then they have almost certainly gotten away from the palace," Kane said. "They'll be in the city, most likely."

"Then I'll issue a warrant for their immediate arrest," Evelyn responded. "The gates will be closed posthaste."

"I'm not sure if you understand this already, Mistress, but I believe we must have a traitor in our midst. The Cinderman attack upon the city—"

"Of course, I realize already," Evelyn snapped. "Judah and his savages could not have breached Rainier's walls. Someone within the city had to let them through somewhere. However, I have no time to search for traitors while the girl is loose. I must have her for the ritual."

"I think the answer to the question of traitors has already been answered."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Isn't it a bit too coincidental that the boy happened to be among the soldiers on the way to the palace and he happened to be the one to extricate her from the armored carriage and run with her?"

Evelyn considered Kane's words, tapping her chin. "Yes, that is suspicious. All the more reason why he must be caught and killed and the girl returned to us."

Evelyn called for a servant; one of those waiting timidly in the corridor outside. Not a second later, one of her stewards, Jessup, appeared inside the destroyed temple, bowing at the waist upon approach.

"Yes, Mistress?" he asked.

"Alert the captain of the watch of the girl's escape with the boy, Killian Radden-son," she said. "Rainier's gates must be closed indefinitely in order to prevent their escape from the city. Our citizens must be warned not to hide them upon pain of death. I want them both found. The girl must be kept safe. The boy should be killed on sight."

Jessup bowed deeply at the waist again. "Yes, Mistress," he said. "It will be done as you command."

He left her presence immediately.

Evelyn turned back to Kane. "And what about you? Are you fit for duty, or do you require a physician?"

Kane nodded slightly to her. "I am well," he said.

"Then why are you still standing here?" she asked. "The girl and that renegade are missing. What are you going to do about it?"

"First, I intend to secure the only piece of leverage you have in this situation," he said.

"Leverage?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"The young man's father chose to remain as your guest in the palace until you decided his son's fate. At some point, the boy will seek out his family. When he realizes where his father is, he will doubtless attempt to rescue him. We need only to let his whereabouts be known to the commoners. The word will spread quickly enough."

"And he will come to us," Evelyn mused.

Kane nodded. "And where the young man is, the girl will not be far behind."

### Watcher

Judah crouched upon the flat rooftop of a local Malkind church, watching the palace. The castle dwarfed all other structures around it in the city. It shone as the crown jewel of Rainier. No doubt it also served as a poignant reminder to both Rainier's citizens and its rivals of the longstanding fortitude of its great house. House Rainier had long reigned among the families of the kingdom. However, Judah was one of the few who knew this tradition was about to end disastrously.

The grinding and cracking of stone could be heard at his perch, as well as half way across the city. Something terrible was happening at the palace. Judah watched as plumes of dust vented here and there about its structure. Then, quite suddenly, there came a rending that toppled part of the building. It simply collapsed.

Briefly, Judah picked out the terrified screams of people inside. The gaping hold allowed their cries to resound in unison for those close enough to hear. Then, as the shattered masonry came crashing down upon them, those cries were silenced.

Judah allowed himself a smile of satisfaction at this new and unexpected development. He had no idea what might have occurred to cause such damage. He had felt no initial shaking in the city or residual tremors. And it seemed likely that the building would not have suffered so dramatically due to any problem in its foundation, since it had stood strong for several hundred years. No, something was going on inside the palace. Some power had been unleashed.

For a moment, he wondered if his Malkind-possessed benefactor had decided to unleash the power of that indwelling spirit. Could it be possible that Kane had changed his plan in order to attack House Rainier on his own? It seemed unlikely to him.

Then, nearly ten minutes later, Kane saw something else unexpected. Riding out through the palace courtyard was the young girl; the Daughter of Eliam whom the queen so prized as a bond for her son, the Rainier prince. She had been necessary for the ritual of bonding that would make young Nathan his ailing father's successor upon his inevitable death.

Yet, here she was, riding at an increasingly breakneck speed beyond the courtyard gate, out into the city, seated behind a young man of apparent commoner status. A rescuer, perhaps? Or was he simply some palace servant who for whatever reason had decided to get involved and help the girl escape Mistress Evelyn?

_The poor fool_ , Judah thought. _When the queen catches him, she'll have him fastened between four horses and his limbs torn off._

"But where could she be riding to?" he muttered to himself.

He smiled.

"To the only place a true Daughter of Eliam would go," he said. "To the temple in the Brine Wood and its priestess."

He turned suddenly to several of his Cindermen who waited with him. There were two like unto wolves and one similar to Judah in the form of a lion. They remained ten paces behind, ready to fulfill their master's desires upon command.

"We have work to do," Judah said to them in a quiet yet menacing tone.

"My lord?" the lion like Cinderman asked.

"There is a change in plan," Judah answered. "We will not be waiting to attack the walls of Rainier as previously assigned. I mean to destroy the Temple of Eliam in the Brine Wood. The girl from the carriage—the Daughter of Eliam—seeks refuge there."

"And Eliam's priestess, my lord?"

Judah smiled. "Her dead god will not save her. She will die by my hand."

Shalindra stroked the muzzle of pale, almost luminescent dragon scales. She stood leaning upon Horatio's head—a head that was still a little taller than her, though it rested upon the ground in the cool grass at her feet. The scales here at Horatio's snout were perfect for petting, since they were the most sensitive on his entire body. Apart from here, the pale scales were as tough as plate armor.

Horatio purred at her touch, a deep rumbling emanating from deep within his great body that vibrated through the ground, tickling the soles of Shalindra's bare feet. "Eliam's plan is working, Horatio," she said in conversational tones.

Steam vented from a crack in the bare rock not far away. This area of grass where Horatio lounged was one of many spaced out among the otherwise bare ground beneath this long dormant volcano. It had not erupted in nearly a thousand years, but had become a favorite spot for dragons to make their dens and raise their young far from the kingdom where men dwelled. Here in the wilds of Titan, the dragons had free range whether land or sea or sky. Only the boldest humans ever made it this far, and only if they hunted dragons.

It had been such human hunters that had brought Horatio together with his mistress. On a clear day, he had been flying in pursuit of men who had killed his mate and taken the priceless eggs from their nest. He had come back to the volcano to find her butchered corpse robbed of every item precious to the black markets. The eggs also had been taken in their pristine condition, a prize to be sold to the highest bidder.

Horatio had taken up their trail and crossed the sulfur lakes in order to find them. He had attacked their caravan, searching for the eggs and vengeance for his mate. When he found the master of the caravan, he also found the eggs. He had been ordered to stop his attack, or the man would destroy the eggs with explosive charges; the same kind often used against dragons to blast through their tough hides and kill them for sport.

He had been left with no recourse. Horatio had drawn down his terrible anger, and the men had captured him in a net. He had been taken upon one of the same great wagons that carried the remains of his mate. The stench of her body had been in his nostrils the entire journey back toward the kingdom of men.

Or so it had been, until their caravan passed near the Brine Wood. A young woman with dark skin, wearing sand colored robes had met them that day. She had brought down the wrath of the Creator upon those men. When all was said and done, their carcasses hung in the branches of the trees to be picked apart by carrion birds, while the remains of Horatio's mate were burned to ash by his own fire. The eggs, unfortunately, had been too long outside the nest. When it became clear that they would never hatch, Horatio had reluctantly burned them also.

The lady with the dark skin, however, had spoken to him kindly, and she also understood his thoughts. Horatio had never met anyone like this person. When he discovered her identity as the High Priestess of Eliam, Creator, he had pledged himself to her service for her valor on his behalf. The two had not been separated since that time many years ago.

Now, however, there was an uncertainty in her voice—not the words she said, but in the tone. Something was about to happen that had Shalindra unsettled, and Horatio did not like it. For anything that could unsettle the Creator's great servant must be truly terrible.

Still, he waited as she stroked his delicate muzzle; her dark skin contrasting with the pale white of his scales. These scales had the ability to absorb and reflect the colors of Horatio's environment, allowing him to blend quite well and become virtually invisible to the eyes of his prey. Were someone to look up and find him flying high upon the wind, they would see only passing clouds or blue sky reflected from his wings and belly.

There were many dragons in the world, though for safety's sake they remained far from the dwelling places of humans. Yet, Horatio knew of no others like himself. He and his mate and the brood they had undertaken together had been the last of his kind. Now, only he remained.

Tears rolled down Shalindra's cheeks, pattering lightly upon his muzzle scales. These he felt, causing him to become anxious for her. His purring stopped and a deep moan took its place, building within him. She patted him more urgently.

"Dear Horatio, you must not fret so," she said. "The time is coming when I must go to my master. My time as priestess draws swiftly to a close."

The dragon suddenly withdrew his snout from her. Shalindra caught herself before she stumbled. Horatio looked indignantly at her, his ruff coming up around the crown of his head. He shook his head and gave a barking cry of distress.

Shalindra went to him, her hands beckoning for him to calm down. However, Horatio would not listen. He gave a barking cry again.

"My friend, can I turn the Creator from his course?" she asked, pleading with him. "Can I determine in better fashion what way his plans must turn? The wind and seas obey him. Indeed, all that exist live under his dominion. Who am I to answer against my lord? Who are you? Our time in the world is fleeting at best. We must all return to him at some time or another."

Horatio gave a cry of exasperation, one that conveyed both his dismay at the thought of losing her and his apology for his outburst. She approached him and his great head came down to nuzzle her again. Shalindra stroked and patted his muzzle scales as she intertwined herself among the bony horns that ringed his face.

"You, Horatio, have been my true friend," she said. "I will miss you only in this world." She looked into his large violet colored eye. "You, however, must protect the one who is coming to take my place. You must give her your loyalty and love as you have me."

Horatio searched her face. Surely, there could be no replacement for Shalindra. Surely, he could never love a human like he loved her.

She knew his thoughts, and he knew hers. "If you love me, then you will do this thing," she said. "The peril that is coming to the kingdom of men is far more than I have faced in my time. She will become Eliam's new priestess. You must help her with what is coming. She will need your wisdom, and your great cunning, if she is to succeed in my place."

Horatio brooded for a long while under her caressing after that. His alarm and sadness at this news was easily known by his mistress, but she did not scold him. Instead, she sang to him, humming wordless tunes that he could not fathom. These had always worked to calm his savagery, to make him feel more at ease.

Finally, however, Horatio asked her in thought the question that had been waiting. Shalindra smiled when she perceived his query. "Who is she and how will you know?" she voiced for him. "She is a Daughter of Eliam. When I am no more, she will come suddenly to the temple in the Brine Wood. There you will find her. You will know her by her hair which is the color of a raven's wing."

### Upheaval

Killian and I had gone not to the gate of the city, but to his home in search of his family. Despite Esmeralda's presence in the palace stable, Killian had hoped beyond hope to find his father, Radden, safe at home. However, only his mother remained when we arrived.

The woman, middle-aged but still quite beautiful, ushered us inside as soon as she realized her son had come home.

"What has happened?" she asked almost hysterically. "There are soldiers everywhere. Your name is being circulated around. It will only be a matter of time before they come here looking for you. And where is your father?"

Killian attempted to calm her down. "Please, Mother," he said. "Let me explain."

Then she saw the gown I was wearing. Her expression became panicked as soon the royal crest caught her attention. She knew what I was.

Her index finger wavered in my direction. She was unable to actually speak for a moment. Then it came.

She looked at Killian. "What have you done? Do you not know who this girl is? The Queen will have us all executed just for harboring her!"

"Mother, she has been abducted by House Rainier," Killian said. "This is the girl I have seen in my dreams for months. This is Raven."

"This girl is the bond of Prince Nathan!"

"I am a slave!" I said, interrupting. I did not mean to disrespect the woman, but I had had enough.

"Where is your father?" she said without acknowledging me.

"I believe he is still at the palace," Killian said. "We found Esmeralda there. I intend to rescue him, Mother."

"You intend? There can be no intention....You must go straightaway," she insisted.

"He will have been taken into custody by now," I pointed out.

Killian's mother shot me an angry look that said, do not interfere. I ignored this. We had no time for emotionalism.

"We will need help, especially against Kane, Evelyn's assassin," I said. "He is possessed of a Malkind Spirit."

Kane nodded to me and then held his mother's imploring gaze. "We are going to Shalindra."

"The priestess? But she never leaves the Brine Wood."

"She knows more about what is going on in this world than anyone," Killian said. "She knows Eliam's plan for the kingdom."

His mother laughed harshly. "Plan? What plan? I see no evidence of any plan. The Malkind worshippers rule us. That has not changed for centuries."

"This sword is evidence of something that is coming; a change in the world," Killian said touching the hilt of the sword. "Eliam bonded the weapon to me instead of the prince. I saw him in a vision, or at least I was held in his presence."

"A dream my son," she said.

"It was no dream," Killian retorted. "Shalindra said as much."

"Then a collective hallucination," she answered. "I don't know. All I do know is that your father's life is in jeopardy. I cannot lose him, Killian."

"If Killian attempts to face Kane alone, you will lose them both," I interjected. "We must have the priestess's help in order to have a hope of rescuing your husband."

Killian nodded his agreement, and his mother seemed to finally concede the point. She slumped down upon a chair. Tears began to run down her cheeks.

"In the meantime," Killian added, "you must leave our home. The queen's soldiers will come here. I cannot undertake two rescues. Father would kill me for letting anything happen to you."

This drew a slight smile from his mother. She nodded. "I can go to Hagar's home on the southern wall. They would not know to look there. As a matter of fact, Hagar can probably let you down the wall from one of her windows. If you can evade the night watchers, then you should have no trouble arriving at the Brine Wood by morning light."

Killian smiled. "Then we must make haste and be away, all of us, while we still can."

Shalindra remained with Horatio's until the inevitable happened. Her large friend had still to this day never admitted to the fact that he fell asleep every time his mistress stroked the sensitive scales of his muzzle. She had attempted on numerous occasions to convince him, but he had always claimed to have been awake the entire time.

When Shalindra walked away from him, Horatio remained asleep on his large pad of soft grass. Steam hissed gently around them, venting at various places among the surrounding rocky ground. Horatio snored gently, dreaming dragon dreams.

Smiling, Shalindra turned from the great white dragon. She waved her hand in the air, creating a portal like a pane of shimmering glass. Beyond its surface, she saw the temple at home in the Brine Wood.

Here with Horatio, it had been night for hours. There it was already early morning. Dawn light was just spilling through the trees. Shalindra turned to look at her friend one final time.

"Goodbye, dear Horatio," she said and walked through the portal, immersing herself in the energy that connected these lands with home.

Arriving at the temple, she allowed the portal to dissipate behind her. The air was crisp and cool at this early morning hour. Normally, the calls of waking birds would have resounded in the Brine Wood around the temple. However, this morning those same raucous fowls remained silent.

They knew something was wrong here, and so did Shalindra. She had not seen the future, exactly. Eliam had not given her that ability. Though she had seen visions relating to particular events, her own fate was not included. Still, she did understand that whatever she was about to face would lead to her end as Eliam's priestess, one way or another.

The tumbled-stone ruin of the old temple stood around her as always, but now there was a new scent on the breeze. Animal and man combined. The Cindermen had come to the Brine Wood. They had come to end her, and this time Eliam would allow them to succeed. Change was coming, and her time had ended.

It had been Shalindra's predecessor by two previous high priestesses who had been Eliam's servant when the terrible sorcerer, Cinder, had first conceived the abominations known now as Cindermen. He had hoped to build an army and thus overtake the great houses of the time. Had Eliam not defeated his purposes through his high priestess, Cinder surely would have prevailed and taken over the entire kingdom.

Shalindra could not help but feel a little envious. Eliam had allowed her predecessor to defend the kingdom in her day and drawn down terrible power against the wizard. Now, she was about to give her life and leave the kingdom in peril before a gathering enemy. Her only consolation was the knowledge that Eliam had chosen Killian Radden-son as a defender, and another priestess would come after her.

Little did Killian, or almost anyone else for that matter, know just how important he was. The royal line was safely hidden away in more than just those living within the palace. Even a half-born son carried the bloodline in his veins. A grandson to the king himself was no different.

Radden knew this, but getting him to talk about it was next to impossible. She had attempted to discuss the matter with Killian's father on a number of occasions. Prince Nathan was not the only heir. He wasn't even the oldest heir.

But Radden would never commit to the truth that Shalindra already understood. Radden was the bastard heir to the throne. He had been born to one of Steven's concubines before he ascended to the throne. Had Evelyn ever known of his existence, she would have had him hunted down and killed.

Fortunately, Steven had been young, and Radden was nearly the queen's same age. She had no idea, and Radden, though knowledgeable, wasn't talking. He was perfectly happy to remain anonymous and, as he argued, keep his family safe.

After her last effort to persuade him, Radden had stopped coming to have weapons blessed. Killian, it seemed, would become his stand-in. He was making it clear that the topic was closed.

Shalindra had even heard the ridiculous story he had concocted for the sake of his family—some impropriety during a ritual as the result of his wife's cooking. As disappointed as she had been at the time, she still laughed when she heard the false story of their falling out.

Whatever Eliam's plan concerning the kingdom, it almost certainly had something to do with Killian. Why else would Eliam have charged the boy and given him the weapon necessary to fight against the Malkind?

Alas, none of these matters concerned her any longer. Her time in Eliam's service was coming to an end. Shalindra did not fear passing through death. She had no desire for experiencing pain, but there was hardly anything she could do about that. Her enemies were here somewhere. There was no going back.

Even from so great a distance, she could feel Horatio's distress. He had awoke since her departure moment's ago. She had bonded herself to the dragon years before. In her mind's eye Shalindra could see him flying at breakneck speed toward the Brine Wood. However, the distance was far too great. He had no hope of arriving in time to fight for her.

Dark figures began to move out of the shadows of the trees surrounding the temple. Faces out of nightmares appeared from behind the ancient ruined walls. The abominable children of the dark sorcerer, Cinder, had come for her.

Swords tarnished with dried blood and rust hung in claw-like hands. Wild visages came toward her in the forms of lions and reptiles and wolfs and bears and tigers. Their teeth gnashed and saliva foamed in anticipation of tasty human flesh. They not only intended to kill her, they meant to savor the prey after the deed was done.

Eliam had decided. Yet, that didn't mean Shalindra had to go quietly. Her power came to the surface of her being instantly. She called for the trees to come to her aid.

Branches swung down to swat at the Cindermen. They cried out in surprise as boughs batted them off their feet. Some of them attempted to counterattack with swords, chipping out pieces of wood, but to no avail. The majority simply rushed at Shalindra, escaping the trees altogether for the relative safety of tumbled-stone walls.

Lightning forked out from her outstretched fingertips, as a line of Cindermen charged across the cobblestones. Several went down, but the others rushed over their fallen comrades unabated. She had hoped that they might halt out of fear, but these abominations were known for rarely showing fear at all.

Spears were hurled in her direction with expert precision. Shalindra waved a hand and dashed some of the wooden shafts to splinters against the stones. Still, there were too many. She was quickly forced to flee back through the temple.

Arrows spat against the walls, clattering like a handfuls of stones. Shalindra evaded, attempting to make herself invisible to them, but still they followed. She remembered that they could smell her as well as see her. Invisibility wouldn't work.

For the first time in what seemed like an age, Shalindra felt the pangs of fear. Again, she cast lightning and killed some. Others came after, like an unstoppable wave.

She did not want to resort to fire, though she knew it might have pushed them back. Setting her surroundings ablaze might inadvertently set the forest on fire as well. Despite her mounting fear, she could not do that.

Shalindra came to the place where Killian had stood in order to present the sword to Eliam for the blessing of his power. She stood, hands outstretched, as the horde of monsters closed in around her. They held bows ready with arrows nocked, swords held before them, and teeth bared ferociously.

They were coming for her. She could unleash wind perhaps, or another volley of lightning. Shalindra felt confused now—a draining on her power. She felt so tired. Her heart thudded in her chest, and stars danced in her vision. She couldn't concentrate on her attackers. So light-headed. She felt like she might faint at any moment.

Something roared behind her. Shalindra turned to find a lion-like man directly in front of her. She recognized the Cinderman leader, Judah, immediately.

His clawed hand shot out, seizing her by the throat. Her eyes went wide for a moment, but then Judah faded from view. Shalindra saw a glorious light. Her spirit hovered over her body. She saw the Cindermen around her physical form. She saw their leader, Judah, holding her by the throat. However, none of these things mattered to her anymore.

Around these, she saw the temple surrounded by floating beings of light. The Mithrial servants of Eliam had come. Invisible to mortal eyes, her enemies had no idea of the glorious army present at the temple. Yet, these did not attack. Instead, they came to welcome her—to escort her away from this place. The Mithri had come to deliver her spirit into the very presence of Eliam.

She knew that she had passed from her mortal body, but this knowledge did not disturb her in the least. Eliam had not suffered her to feel any pain. Or, at least, she wasn't aware of any memory of pain.

Her attention left the happenings below her in the Brine Wood Temple. The glory of Eliam surrounded her. She surrendered to the Mithri as they came to lead her away from the battle. All fear over the attack and the next priestess, with what she would face in Shalindra's absence, disappeared. She knew only peace and contentment now.

Judah lashed out as Eliam's witch turned from his men to face him. His hand took hold of the woman's throat, his claws piercing her dark skin. Warm blood gathered around his fingertips and then dripped onto her sand-colored garments.

Shalindra's body went limp in his grip. He held her up, using the tremendous strength of his arm to hoist her higher for his men to see. The entire crowd of Cindermen became tense with anticipation.

Judah pulled her to him, sinking his fangs into her throat. The taste of warm blood invigorated him further. He held her body high in one arm. The life had gone from her, but Judah did not care. This was an unheard of victory and he would savor it.

He had hoped to find the young woman and the boy with her. He had supposed that a Daughter of Eliam would surely have come here to have the priestess harbor her from House Rainier, but there was no sign of her. No matter. He would find the girl and then use her as a bargaining chip toward greater power.

Judah roared ferociously with Shalindra's blood staining his maw. His men raged excitedly before him. He tossed the body to them, and the feeding frenzy began.

### Passage

For the sake of keeping down suspicion, Killian's mother had chosen to leave by a separate means for her friend's home upon the wall. Esmeralda had carried her and we took another horse. However, Killian's mother then arranged to have Esmeralda brought to us outside the wall. Killian had insisted upon leaving the horse with his mother, but she had refused.

"She might as well be your father's mistress, as much as the beast loves him, but there truly is no finer animal to bare you with haste to the priestess," she had said.

We left before nightfall, when the gates were still passable, though we had been let out a secret way, as his mother had earlier indicated. The guards posted at the gates were noticeably increased in number. Evelyn was definitely looking for us. Our battle at the palace had brought these repercussions, but I couldn't make myself sorry for having fought my way to freedom.

Killian's mother, Melinda, had procured me new clothing to replace the bonding gown I had been given by Evelyn's servants. The quality of that clothing along with its garish crest of House Rainier in silver emblazoned across the breast had made me an instant target. Now, I wore the plain robes of a commoner. Truth be told, I felt far more comfortable in these than the former.

Killian pressed Esmeralda hard for speed but she never showed any sign of complaint. I rode in the saddle behind him, holding on for dear life. Truth be told, holding on to him was my favorite part. Despite my powers and abilities as a Daughter of Eliam, I still feared the Malkind. Yet, having Killian with me gave me strength and hope.

I knew that without the sword he would not have been able to battle Kane and the terrible spirit using the man's body, but his courage in the face of that danger was inspiring. Killian appeared to have no great understanding of the weapon, or its power, but he fought without fear just the same. I had power, but he had real courage. No matter what came for us, I knew somehow that everything would be all right. We might even die together fighting for our lives, but at least we would be together.

When dawn finally broke through the trees of the Brine Wood, we had stopped to refresh ourselves and allow Esmeralda to drink her fill from one of the small streams crisscrossing the forest. That was when I felt it—something was terribly wrong. There was danger in the Brine Wood.

My vision became blurred. As I attempted to cry out to Killian, I lost sight of him. Esmeralda and this glade by the stream also disappeared from view. I knew already what was happening, since this wasn't my first time experiencing a vision.

However, my transport did not take me far. I was still in the Brine Wood, but now a ruined stone edifice stood all around me. A woman with dark skin and sand-colored robes also stood in this place, but I did not know her. Yet, I had the distinct feeling that she was also a Daughter of Eliam. Could this be the priestess, I wondered?

Near her, a portal dissolved. I knew what it was, for I had studied the nature of them, but I did not know how to create one myself. Surely, this woman had to be the Shalindra of legend I had heard about. Not only had Killian and his mother spoken of her, I had learned of her existence at the abbey from Hannah.

She stood there for a moment. I knew she would not be able to see me—or would she? I tried to speak to her, to wave my hands. Perhaps, she might be able to hear or see me like Killian had during his stay at the Mangy Cur. Yet, for all of my efforts, Shalindra did not acknowledge my presence.

Then she was alerted by the sound of rustling among the trees around the temple. I looked as well, unsure if this was a present event or something still to come in the future. Given our nearness to the temple now, I had the terrible feeling that this was happening right then. Cindermen appeared from the trees, encircling the ancient ruined temple. Shalindra was here facing them all alone.

I wanted to fight for her, to somehow intervene. I tried to scream to her, but unlike Killian she did not hear it. If only the vision would release me, I could warn Killian of what was happening. We might still be able to rush to Shalindra's aid before the worst happened. There were so many of the creatures. How could she hope to prevail?

Then Shalindra acted against the threat. She called upon tremendous power. The trees near the temple walls responded in kind, reaching down like giants to swat at the Cindermen as they came for her. In part, this seemed to work, but the beastly men quickly managed to get around the trees and charge into the ruin itself.

They carried weapons of every kind, but even their muscular bodies were weapon enough. With their sharp claws and teeth, Cindermen could rend flesh as easily as any beast of the wood. Given the opportunity, a Cinderman could best its beastly counterpart any day. A lion-like man, such as these, could kill a true lion without a weapon in hand at all.

As the Cindermen charged her, Shalindra gave up on the help of trees and stretched her hands toward her foes. Volleys of lightning shot away from her fingertips, striking down many of the approaching Cindermen. Thunderous bangs resounded throughout the temple ruin with each air splitting burst of white hot energy.

Still, the Cindermen came on, forcing the priestess to retreat at every turn. Swords struck stone, spears missed her back by mere inches, and arrows the same. She fought and retreated until she was surrounded, with only a stone wall behind her. The Cindermen halted, waiting, weapons ready and teeth gnashing.

Then he appeared. Judah, the lion-like leader came over the half tumbled wall with all the gracefulness of a gazelle bounding a stream. He landed behind Shalindra, standing easily a foot taller.

For a moment, she didn't seem to be aware of him there. Then, she turned. I hoped she would strike him down. Even if the rest killed her, she might at least destroy the leader of them with one final burst of power. But she didn't even raise a hand to him. She was like a lamb going to slaughter. Not a cry did she make.

Judah seized Shalindra by the throat. His hand was quick as an adder. He had her in his grip, hoisting her off of the ground, his claws digging deep into her throat as he crushed the life from her. I tried to stop him, but there was nothing I could do in my incorporeal form.

Tears streaked my face, as he held her dying body up for the cheers of his Cindermen. They gnashed their teeth in anticipation, and I knew what would happen next. I remembered Celia by the road, this thing taking her life so callously.

As I feared, Judah threw her corpse to his horde of beastly soldiers. I turned away, unable to look, as the frenzy for her flesh began. I sobbed, lying on the cobblestones of the temple, evil all around me, but unable to do anything to stop it.

Then a hand touched my shoulder, and I started. Killian was there, speaking to me. I jerked away reflexively, looking for the Cindermen and their leader, terror written upon my face.

"Raven, what's wrong?" he asked. "Are you all right? You seemed to be in some sort of trance."

I could hear the concern in his voice. He didn't know what I had just seen. We were still in the glade by the forest stream. Esmeralda stood waiting nearby. There were no Cindermen here at all.

"Killian," I began, still panicked and sobbing, "I saw something in a vision, something terrible—"

But that was all I managed to say. The world around me spun and the black veil of unconsciousness consumed me. I felt Shalindra die in that moment, and it became like death unto me as well.

Hannah walked the main corridor of the abbey in frustration. The sun was already up now, but where were her girls? It was so unlike them to be derelict in their daily chores. They knew what punishments would await them for their laziness. Yet, when they should have been here and there working away, none of them could be found.

Then she heard one of the servants screaming her name. Hannah ran toward the sound, eventually winding her way through several rooms to come to the courtyard that sat in the midst of the compound. Many of the other household servants were already gathered there.

As Hannah approached, the crowd of women in gray uniforms parted to allow her access to the area near the coy pond. There she found all of her young wards upon the ground. They were not dead. She could see them breathing. However, for some unknown reason, each and every one of them was unconscious.

### Royal Pain

Evelyn entered the room where Kane already waited with their honored guest. Radden stood in the middle of the room. Evelyn had brought a retinue of guards, but they remained outside the door for now.

Normally, Radden would have waited for his queen to speak. However, he assumed, with the current situation, that the time for decorum had passed. He was a prisoner now, plain and simple.

"Your assassin," Radden said, indicating Kane, "has refused to answer any of my questions, Majesty. I can only assume there is some appropriate reason for detaining me?"

Evelyn stopped in her tracks next to Kane. "Indeed there is," she said icily. "Your son has committed so many crimes against the crown over the past few hours that nothing in this world or the next will ever be able to save him."

"Crimes?" Radden asked.

"He attacked me in the dungeon and then escaped his cell," she reported. "He then interrupted my son's bonding ritual and absconded with the Daughter of Eliam who would have become his bond!"

Evelyn did not bother to withhold her fury. The boy had defied her openly, and most of what she had told his father was true. The fact that she had embellished his escape from the dungeon was merely incidental.

He had somehow vanished, when she attempted to kill him with her wand. Evelyn still failed to understand how the boy had done it. But the result had been Killian attacking Kane and preventing the ceremony that would have bonded Raven with her son.

Radden's son had left her in a terrible situation. Without the girl in hand, Steven would soon die, and Nathan would have no means to assume the throne. House Rainier's enemies would quickly rally against them. The city might even come under siege.

Whatever had happened earlier to destroy part of the palace had done no more damage since. Kane mentioned the girl using her power, but Evelyn doubted she wielded that kind of power. She was far too young. It wasn't as if she was Eliam's priestess, Shalindra.

Radden remained silent for a moment before speaking again. "Majesty," he said, trying to choose his words very carefully, "I assure you there must be something unknown in this situation. Killian would not do these things of his own volition. I will do all that I can to help you find him. I only beg that you give my son an opportunity to explain why these events have happened as they have."

Kane grinned, glancing sidelong at his queen. "I believe him, Majesty," he said in a calculating fashion. "Radden does not understand his son's actions, but surely he can assist us in Killian's _apprehension_."

Radden swallowed with difficulty. His throat was feeling a bit dry at the moment. He did not wish to confer any guilt on his son by his words. However, there seemed little recourse in this situation without seeming to be a traitor himself. That would do nothing to save his son.

"As I've already said, Majesty, there must be a rational explanation for his behavior. I only ask for your mercy and patience. After all, as his father, I also want to know why these events have transpired. I cannot explain his actions any more than you."

Now, Evelyn spoke up. "Oh, I believe I can explain his behavior quite easily, beginning with the kiss he gave the girl in the alley following the Cinderman attack. The boy has become infatuated with a beautiful girl. It's plain old lust that drives this madness against the crown. But madness will not save him from my vengeance."

"Majesty, I can—"

"What you can do to help is just what you are doing now—remaining in custody," Evelyn continued, interrupting Radden. "I'm going to set a day for your execution and have the event published throughout the kingdom. Either your son will come to take your place, or you will pay for his crimes against House Rainier. I will not barter. One of you will die for what has happened."

Radden could only stand there and listen to Evelyn's decree. He wondered briefly about the possibility of escape. Then he glanced at Kane standing there and reconsidered.

The queen's bodyguard had a reputation that preceded him by miles. The man was considered second to none as an assassin for hire. However, these days, he only worked for Queen Evelyn and House Rainier. Trying to escape with him around would be an even quicker death than Evelyn's threat of public execution.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your mind," Kane said to Radden.

"I wouldn't advise any attempt at escape," Evelyn warned. "There is no man in my kingdom quite like Kane."

The assassin arched an eyebrow, apparently uncertain whether Her Majesty meant the comment as an insult or a compliment. Radden noticed a shadow of contempt cross Kane's face while regarding Queen Evelyn. He might have been completely loyal by appearance, but that look hinted at something brewing just below the surface. Radden wondered if Evelyn even considered the fact that Kane could kill her as easily as him.

Finally, he asked the obvious question. "What happens now, Majesty? Am I to be interred in the palace dungeon now?"

"Unfortunately, that is precisely where your son escaped from," she said. "Therefore your accommodations will be more comfortable." She said to Kane, "Have him placed into one of the cells made for the Daughters of Eliam. Even if they make it back into the palace, attempting a rescue, they'll not think to look there for him. In fact we will publish his location, awaiting execution, in the dungeon in the same cell his son occupied."

"And leave a garrison below to wait for them?" Kane asked.

"Precisely," Evelyn confirmed.

Radden sighed in resignation. He had no options right now. Possibly, something might present itself, but at the moment he would have to do as Evelyn commanded. He could only hope that Killian did not return for him.

"If your son does return, Radden, and if he surrenders the girl unspoiled and the sword unmarred, I might find some spark of mercy in my heart toward him."

Radden looked up at this, expectantly.

Evelyn turned and left the room, a guard opening the door and then closing it behind her.

Radden and Kane regarded one another.

"She will not show my son mercy, no matter what else happens, will she?"

Kane grinned. "I wouldn't count on it."

### Rearrangements

General Rosta waited patiently for his master to speak. Kane's quarters inside the palace were spacious and luxurious, to be sure, but the apartment also held an unused feeling. None of this pomp and circumstance was Kane's doing.

For his part, he was a simple man. He cared nothing for decoration or flamboyance. Being first and foremost a hired assassin, his reputation was the only adornment he valued.

However, Rosta, among very few, knew that Kane was more than a bounty killer, and more than Evelyn's servant. He was even more than the mere possession of a powerful Malkind spirit. He was the heir to a great house, if a dejected and minor one by comparison.

"You have heard about the girl's escape?" Kane asked.

"Word has reached my ears, but not the camp, my lord," Rosta said. "The army of House Turine awaits your command to attack the city."

"They must remain in the west for now," Kane said.

"But surely you can simply kill the royal family and take the city now," Rosta replied. "They pose no real threat. I could have our men in the palace take care of it tonight."

"I need the girl, not Evelyn or her son," he said. "With her, my ascension will be recognized by the other houses. Also, there is the matter of Stephen's death and his son. Stephen must pass away naturally and Nathan become unable to ascend to the throne. With the girl missing, this can be accomplished, but I'll need her when we take the city from House Rainier."

"Your army is ready, my lord," Rosta assured him. "We can move swiftly once you give the word. No other house will be in position to move on Rainier."

"But they won't be far behind," Kane said, beginning to pace. "Our army will have the city, but I must bond with the girl in order to secure my reign as the new king of the realm. Otherwise, the other houses will mass against us, and their armies are greater in number by far."

"And what of Judah and his Cindermen?" Rosta asked. "Will they fight for us against the other houses, if it becomes necessary?"

"Judah is no coward," he said, contemplating the Cinderman leader, "but he is no fool either. This is a game, and we are all playing to win—even Judah and his kind. He will only support us if it gains him something."

"But what do creatures like them want, my lord?" Rosta asked. "They are not even barbarians."

"He might be part beast, but he is no less a man because of it—perhaps he's just more honest about his nature. Judah craves what all men crave, Rosta. He craves power. If we are smart, then we can use that desire to control him and his people long enough to win the kingdom for House Turine. I will send orders with you for Judah when you go."

"My lord, I assumed you knew," Rosta answered. "Judah and his Cindermen never reported to our camp."

Kane's eyes narrowed. "Then he is up to something..."

Rosta did not offer any theories as to what the Cindermen might be doing. At the moment, he was simply glad that Judah's disobedience had not been somehow blamed on him.

Kane stopped pacing suddenly and straightened. "His men might have been in the city when Evelyn sent the guards out after the girl," he said indignantly.

"Might he have taken up the chase as well?" Rosta suggested.

"Indeed," Kane answered. "He knows that the girl is most precious to House Rainier. It is unlikely, but he might even think to use her as a pawn against me directly."

"But how could he know your plans for her, master?"

"Judah is a warrior, Rosta," he said, grinning. "He is cunning. That, among other reasons, is why I sought to use him. Like a true lion, he is always looking for weaknesses that can be exploited. We must find out what has happened to our illustrious ally and reign him in before he does something to get himself killed."

"Killed, my lord?"

"Of course, Rosta," Kane said. "Naturally, if Judah has impeded my plans, I will be forced to kill him myself."

Esmeralda walked behind us as quietly as possible through the shrouded early morning in the Brine Wood. I led the way to the place where I felt Shalindra either was or had been. I had no idea why I should know, except for the vision. Yet, there was something drawing me toward our inevitable destination.

Killian walked beside me, keeping the blessed sword ready for anything in his hand. We crept along carefully, and, for the most part, soundlessly. I used my power to dampen the sounds of our passing—a trick I had actually learned from Celia. She had been a master at sneaking about the abbey without anyone hearing.

When we drew near to the place, I noticed the very top of a stone structure piercing the trees about one hundred yards ahead. I paused, placing my hand upon Killian's arm. I felt that we were standing upon a razor's edge between life and death. Anything, it seemed, could happen from this point on.

"If my vision has come true already, as I fear, then the Cindermen are probably still here."

"And if it has not?" Killian asked. "We might very well save Shalindra's life."

"My visions have never _not_ come true," I reported.

"Ah, but you warned me at the Mangy Cur, remember? I did not die."

"I never said that I saw you die," I replied, "only that I saw men attacking you while you slept. The rest of the vision ended when I screamed to warn you."

Killian smiled at me kindly. "What do you think we should do, Raven?"

The last thing I wanted, at this point was to be forced into making a decision that might lead to our deaths. However, I was the one with the visions and the unexplained sensation drawing us to the place where Shalindra was or had been recently. Clearly, this was not Killian's decision to make. I was at least glad that he had enough confidence in me to allow me to make the choice.

"As much as I dread what might lay ahead," I said, "I do feel that we must go on."

He smiled more broadly now and leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "I trust you," he said. "Do not worry, only trust that Eliam is leading us to whatever end he sees fit."

"The words of the prophets?" I asked, remembering words I had read from Eliam's holy book.

"Even though he might slay me, I choose to trust him," Killian recited. "We cannot choose to walk with the Creator of all things only when we will have something to gain by it. If he is truly in control, then we must trust him no matter the circumstances."

I smiled now and kissed him—not on the forehead, but on his lips. He accepted the gesture easily, but he did not draw it out. We had a greater purpose for being here, and it was time that we found out what it was.

A moment later, we were walking upon the ancient stones of the temple courtyard. We ascended the stair. Still, there was no sign of the Cindermen. There was also no Shalindra.

Oh, there was evidence of her having recently been there: trails of blood, smoking scorch marks upon the ancient stone walls, and the smell of foul creatures recently here. What was curiously missing, however, was the arrows and spears and bodies I had seen in my vision.

We continued up the steps, looking all about us, attempting to be cautious. I felt more like we were walking upon thin ice, hearing the brittle cracks beneath our feet, waiting upon the inevitable moment when it gives way to plunge us below into chilling death. Something was going to happen. I just didn't know when.

When we came to the place where I had seen the priestess die at the hands of Judah, we stopped. My blood ran cold through my veins. There upon the stones lay what remained of Shalindra, Priestess of Eliam. It was not pleasant. I could not gaze long upon what the Cindermen had left.

I turned back to Killian, casting myself into his arms. He took me in, breathing deeply, groaning within himself at the sight before him. I had told him my vision. He already knew as well as I what this meant. My vision had been true. Shalindra was dead.

A piercing cry from above shocked our senses. It was a terrible roaring like thunder mixed with the kind of shrieking that can only come from intense anguish. Our eyes flew to the sky. What we saw descending upon us melted our bowels within us.

A dragon plummeted out of the heavens toward the temple. There was rage in its cries and heartache. The beast was nearly invisible, its scale color shifting to portray the surrounding clouds and sky. Only its rapid movement made its approach apparent.

Killian and I ran for our lives at once. I had never seen a dragon before, though everyone knew they existed. They were not to be found within the kingdom lands held by the great houses of the realm. Only the stories carried by those insane individuals willing to pass into the outer territories to hunt them gave us any indication of what sort of creatures they were.

I was a Daughter of Eliam, but I had no idea how my powers might defend against this ferocious beast. Killian carried a sword blessed by the Almighty himself, but he did not dare to test its ability now. Just seeing it coming down upon the temple had scared us to death.

We ran, but it did us no good. The dragon smashed into the ground, shaking the entire temple complex. Stones toppled from the ancient walls. Killian and I became trapped as one of its great leathery wings enveloped us.

We stopped where we were. It had not harmed us, yet, but how long would it be before death came in the form of monstrous teeth and claws, or worse? We might be consumed in unquenchable flame.

I watched as the creature craned its head to look in upon us under its wing. Its expression was almost human. A terrible anger lay in its features, but it did not harm us.

The massive head turned again. The entire form of the dragon had transformed since it came down. Where its scales had been mostly colored by our surroundings before, now they were a pale silvery white. Despite my terror, I recognized the beauty of this dragon.

The beast looked toward the remains Killian and I had just found a moment ago. I had no idea why it would do this, but an idea was dawning. This was confirmed when the dragon cried out again over Shalindra's remains.

Anguish and despair.

These were the emotions clearly emanating from this majestic creature. It was crying out for Shalindra's loss. I laid my hand upon the leathery membrane of its sheltering wing and felt raw emotion invade my mind like a sudden storm.

Tears ran down my face almost instantly. I had to shut my eyes in order to control myself. I felt weak and would have fallen had Killian not caught me in strong caring arms.

My contact with the dragon was broken, but the maelstrom of emotion remained. This creature was heartbroken for Shalindra's demise. What it could not express, due to being a dragon, came rushing out of me in the form of great sobs.

I felt Killian's arms tense around me. When I looked up at him, he was looking over me toward the dragon's head. I followed his gaze and found the creature's face there peering beneath its wing at us.

The anger in its expression had faded. I felt a connection now. I could sense emotion and more than that. I laid my hand upon the underside of the wing again and its thoughts came through again. Only this time, the emotions were under more control.

The beast turned, its sheltering wing uncovering us as it swept away. The dragon extended to us both of its fore-claws. Each was broad enough to hold an adult person. The question was, would it crush us in its anger over Shalindra's death?

I could sense its intent. There was no malice toward us, only heartache for the priestess and anger toward those who had done this heinous deed. Clearly, it wanted us to climb inside those huge claws. But then what? Anything might happen. I had no reason to trust this beast, but I felt that I should.

Then images came into my mind from the dragon—images of happier days flying with Shalindra, battling long dead foes with the priestess. This dragon was hers—not a pet, but a friend. He had been her only real companion.

"We must go with him," I said, moving out of Killian's embrace.

"What?" he asked. "You're joking."

I took him by the hand. "No," I said. "We can trust him. He has been Shalindra's friend for decades. We must go with him now."

Killian looked between the dragon's looming face and mine. Then he consented, helping me into the right claw before he climbed into the left. Gently, the dragon closed its scaly fingers until we were protected in living cages made of dragon bones and impenetrable serpentine scales.

The massive wings beat the air with increasing intensity. Then we were ascending into the sky, leaving the ruins of Eliam's Brine Wood temple in our cyclonic wake. What trap had been waiting on us there, I had no idea, but we were safe for the moment.

Judah cursed and beat his fist against the trunk of a tree in his frustration. The girl had actually come to the temple trying to find Eliam's priestess. It was just as he had assumed. His Cindermen soldiers had been ready to spring upon her and the boy, but the dragon had come out of nowhere to sweep them away.

Cindermen were fierce, and there was none as brave among them as their leader. However, Judah was no fool. Attempting to kill a dragon—especially one that already appeared to be agitated—was pure insanity. With the meager weapons they now carried with them, he and his men would have stood no chance at all of capturing the girl.

Fearing his wrath, none of his men spoke to the obvious problem. They had come to the temple, and the priestess was now dead, but Judah's goal of using the girl as a bargaining tool had been foiled. They had no way of following the beast, no foreseeable way of getting her now.

Judah fumed silently, his gaze boring into the image of the dragon as its scales changed to reflect the clouds and sky. In seconds it was virtually invisible again. The girl was the key to gaining the upper hand. He had to have her under his control. He had to find a way.

Kane's army from House Turine waited to the west of Rainier. They would surely have been spotted were it not for the fact that the assassin had either bought off Rainier's outlying scouts or replaced them directly with men of his own choosing. Either way, House Rainier was set to be besieged.

Judah considered his predicament. He was supposed to be there—he and his Cindermen—in order to play a vital role in Kane's plan for the city. He was unsure whether to go on to the camp or rebel outright against the Turine heir. If he rebelled, he would have to face him sooner or later, and it was unlikely he would win the contest. Still, Kane wasn't the only human he could make alliances with.

Judah grinned, turning suddenly to his men waiting in the trees with him. "We go to the city of Auturn and the mighty host at Lord Grayson's command."

Look for the second book in Raven's Chronicle: coming late 2015 – 2016

Also look for Raven's Hand soon in audiobook format on audible.com, amazon.com, Itunes.com

James Somers thanks you for reading!
