
# Beacon in the Dark

At one time, Nerris Palada had been one of the Thrillseekers, adventurers legendary throughout the continent of Tormalia. After years spent winning the hearts of the people and being immortalized in song and story, they went their separate ways. Now a mercenary, Nerris has become deeply involved in the civil war gripping the country of Yagolhan, mired in a very dark place within his own soul.

But when evil forces emerge, Nerris is driven out of his army and left to fend for himself. When a chance encounter reunites Nerris with his friends in their home village, the Thrillseekers embark on one last grand adventure. Joined by the mysterious, fledgling sorceress Len-Ahl, the fellowship soon finds itself on a mission much bigger than their own desires. What they seek could free the world from a dark threat that has gripped it since antiquity.

When the dust has settled between gods and godlings, kings and commoners, and magic and mystery, Nerris may sink back into darkness or rekindle the joy, happiness and love of life he once knew.

# SECRETS OF THE STONECHASER

BY NICHOLAS ANDREWS

COVER ART BY KEITH JOHNSTON

# Copyright Info

Sale of this book without a front cover would be pointless. This title is print-on-demand, so the author received payment anyway. A torn off cover would merely indicate negligence on the part of the previous handler.

SECRETS OF THE STONECHASER

A STRAY BOOK

www.authornicholasandrews.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the imagination of the author and/or used fictitiously. Though some characters may be inspired by certain people, any actual resemblance to existing persons is coincidental.

A Stray Publishing E-Book

Published by Stray Publishing, an imprint of Nicholas Andrews.

Copyright © 2013 by Nicholas Andrews

Cover Art © 2013 by Keith Johnston

keithdraws.wordpress.com

# Dedication

__

_For_ my _Thrillseekers,_

_Katie, Abbie, Dusty, Jim, Nathan, Jay, Art, Eddie, and Jen_

# Map

View High Quality Map Online

# PART ONE: ARISTIAN FLAMES

View High Quality Map Online

# Chapter One

YOU'VE GOT ONE hour. After that, we'll assume you're dead."

The old man's parting words sent a chill up Nerris's spine. Mixed emotions at that morbid statement coursed through him. The fear of dying, natural in every man. But also anxiety, for he had a job to do. And last, anticipation. Should he not accomplish his task, it would likely result in his death, and that would be the release he craved.

He thought back to his companions as he drifted in and out of the shadows cast by surrounding towers. As their rickety cart had reined in at the castle gate, light rain fell. From beneath the tarp concealing him, Nerris could hear old Rade, the driver, swearing. Unwelcome precipitation could hinder their plan. He looked at the two others hidden with him under the cart bed's tarp. Mikaren's one good eye betrayed nothing, and the black patch over his other gave him a menacing look, further enhanced by the lingering ghosts of many scars on his face. That man had been through a few fights in his time. Chalis's mouth opened and his eyes strayed upward, as if he could see the rain through the tarp. Nervous breathing and a look of youthful wonder pronounced his boyish countenance.

They slowed, and the clop-clop of horse hooves stopped, and Nerris knew they had arrived at the gate. On the parapet above a guard called, inquiring about the wagon's presence at this late hour. From under his tarp, he couldn't see the Aeternica. The ancestral home of the Yagol monarchy was said to be built of red brick, with slope-roofed keeps and a low outer wall.

"I come from Lesta," Rade called out. "Way I heard, Kahz Rinad has ceased all trade with the Y'Ghan monarchy. I carry goods which may interest him."

After a few moments, the iron gate creaked open, admitting them into the gatehouse. Armor clanked as the sentries approached their cart. "What kind of cargo you got for the King?" one voice asked.

"Sikelsmek, my good man," Rade said. "A great quantity, and freshly harvested too. The King won't want for potency, I guarantee it."

The sentry sighed. "That's welcome news indeed."

"I'd wager his Majesty has been having fits without a fresh supply," Rade said.

The sentry grunted. "You didn't hear it from me, but he's been tearing up the carpets."

"Never understood the appeal of the leaf myself," Rade said. "A bellyful of ale gives me more of a good time than I can handle, without all the paranoia."

"Check it," a second sentry's voice said.

"Yes, Captain."

Nerris tensed as the first sentry clanked toward them. He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the katana strapped to his back. The King's addiction was the worst kept secret in the kingdom, and it would be their key into the palace.

The tarp parted, and the face of a sentry appeared. The man barely had time to gasp before Mikaren's hand flashed out and jammed a stiletto into his throat. He cried out and fell back, blood spraying onto the stone with sickening spurts. Chalis and Mikaren slid over the sides of the wagon as the second sentry called for help. After a moment, he let out a screech of pain, followed by silence. Nerris wasn't sure whether Chalis or Rade got to him first.

The gatehouse door slammed open, and several pairs of boots stomped across the cobblestones to join the fight. Moments later, steel clashed on steel, and Nerris braced himself. He had to wait until the guards thought they had routed their assailants.

Rade spoke the password. "Zephyr!"

Nerris pushed himself to his feet and surveyed the situation. The sentries had Rade, Mikaren and Chalis pinned against the second gate, which led to the bailey. He counted six, their backs facing him. He stepped onto the driver's seat and launched himself over their startled horse. Nerris drew his curved blade and slashed in one motion, hamstringing one man. He took another sentry in the neck before the others even noticed him.

His companions surged forward, and made short work of the remaining guards. When the last man had been silenced, Rade unhitched their horse, guided it back to the gate, and slapped it hard on the rear. The brown gelding took off with a squeal, and Nerris and Mikaren seized the cart and dragged it against the inner gate.

Chalis kicked one of the corpses. "I can't believe he said cargo."

"So what?" Mikaren asked.

"A ship carries cargo, not a wagon," Chalis said. "Any seafaring man knows that."

"In case you haven't noticed, we're a hundred leagues inland."

"Shut up, both of you," Rade said as he hefted a small barrel from the wagon's bed. "The plan didn't include you two nattering at each other." He tipped the barrel, pouring a black-colored powder onto the ground. He led a trail out toward the gatehouse's south entrance. "Nerris, Chalis, cover the door."

They opened the door and moved into position, in case the guards came from that direction. But Mikaren and Rade soon joined them. "I hear shouts from the north, so this way should be clear," the old man said. "Let's go."

Mikaren brought his saber down onto the stones at the edge of the powder. A spark ignited the substance, and it burned a trail toward their wagon. Nerris and the others hurried through the door and up the stairs. When they reached the guard post at the top, they threw themselves to the ground and covered their ears.

A deafening explosion from below caused the ground to shake. Even with his hands over his ears, Nerris could hear it plain as day. Several more detonations occurred, and he heard the screams of the guards unlucky enough to have wandered into the crossfire below.

"By Yala," Chalis said. "I didn't think that would actually work."

"Everyone up," Rade said. They all rose, and Rade braced the door with a nearby table in case any unwanted visitors dropped by their hiding spot. "Are we all clear in our roles in this mission?"

"Yes, Commander," they all said.

"Very well. Mikaren, head for the stables. Chalis, with me. Nerris?"

Nerris nodded. "I've got this. King Lahnen will not survive the night."

Rade nodded. "We're counting on you. But we can't wait forever. If you don't make it to the rendezvous point in the stables, we'll have to leave you. You've got one hour. After that, we'll assume you're dead."

It hadn't taken Nerris long to find his destination. He crouched low in the moonlit shadow of the royal keep. Satisfied no guards were present, he emerged and ran toward the edge of the parapet. He moved with precision and in silence, making the long leap between the two structures with ease. He landed low, rolling back into the shadows.

He looked up and gauged his next obstacle. The walls of the inner keep loomed above him. He tied his brown ponytail tighter and stretched his broad shoulders to prepare himself. Taking a big breath, he detached the grappling hook from his belt and drew it from its cloth cover. With practiced finesse, he unraveled it and gave it a few swings before tossing it overhead. It cleared the top of the tower, and Nerris gave it a tug to make sure it caught. He began his climb, knowing anyone who happened to look up would be hard pressed to see him. He had painted his loose tunic and trousers a rusty red for this purpose, matching him against the red brick which made up the Aeternica's walls.

He climbed hand over hand, every muscle in his arms and legs straining and working together. He pulled himself up quickly in case the rain made the bricks slicker. Anyone who had ever seen him climb told him what a good swordsman he was. He didn't need this to be any more difficult than it had to be.

After what seemed an eternity, he reached the top of the tower and slid over the crenellations. A quick glance to either side revealed no guards. He pulled up his rope. The rain had stopped, thankfully. Chalis and Rade's task involved setting fire to the kitchens on the other side of the palace compound. Looking down, he could see the smoke's steady rise and hear the sleepy shouts as men-at-arms and servants alike discovered the fire. Their distractions would pull some of the palace guard away from the royal keep. At least, that was the plan.

Nerris reached the stairwell and reached behind his head, loosening his katana, a light but deadly blade from the far-off country of Miagama. King Lahnen's chambers were two floors down, and bound to be under guard. He crept down the stairwell, following the map he had memorized.

When he entered the hallway to the royal bedchamber, he darted back into the shadows as a contingent of guards hurried past him. The brief snatch of conversation he overheard revealed the plan had worked. The King had sent them to help put out the kitchen fire.

"What if the King decides to leave in order to make sure the fire is out?" Nerris had asked Rade on their trip to the city.

"King Lahnen has been afraid of fire for a long time," Rade said. "He had a torch thrust into his face during the Enslavement War, and still bears some of the scars today. The kitchens were chosen because they are the farthest point from the King's bedchamber. Trust me, he'll send as many as he can spare to put out our fire, all while staying as far away as possible."

Nerris peered around the corner. At the end of the hall, two sentries stood guard over double doors of polished wood. The Y'Ghan family sigil, the moon impaled by crossed swords, was carved above the threshold. The guards would have to die; the trick would be to do it without raising a ruckus and alerting the King.

Luckily, their informant made sure they had been well versed in palace procedure, and he knew a new guard rotated in every hour. He crouched back in the shadows and waited. For a time, all was silent until he heard the unmistakable sound of boots scraping stone, approaching from his left. When the guard passed Nerris's hiding spot, he unraveled a garrote. He sprang up and wrapped the wire around the man's neck, pulling him back into the shadows. The guard struggled against him, but Nerris held firm and the man's choked gasps grew weaker until his body went limp. Nerris pulled off the man's hauberk and half-helm. Working quickly, he donned them over his clothes, putting on the breastplate last and attaching the guard's black cloak. He opened a nearby window and hauled the corpse out, and the man's body dropped into the bushes below.

Nerris rounded the corner and marched toward the remaining guards. He stopped and gave a salute, and the man on the left saluted him back. Without a word, he marched off and disappeared around the corner. Nerris took his place and waited for him to get out of earshot. Once he was satisfied, he whipped his hand out, catching the other guard in the throat.

The guard tried to cry out, but found himself voiceless. Nerris pulled the man in and drew his knife, making a quick slice across his throat. The guard gurgled a couple of times and went limp. Nerris set him gently on the floor, letting him bleed out. He sheathed the knife and drew his katana. With a deep breath, he backed up and charged the door. He leapt into it and kicked with all the force he could muster. The door splintered and cracked, but it took another kick to cave it in.

Nerris ran inside to find King Lahnen crouched behind his writing table. The King had donned his nightclothes, but if burning candles to either side of him were any indication, he had not been sleeping. Nerris raised his katana and moved forward.

King Lahnen got to his feet with a start. "What is the meaning of this? I did not give you leave to—" He gaped at Nerris, a lack of recognition on his face.

The King was short and stout, and any courage he once possessed had seemed to fade with age. He panicked and retreated, whipping his white hair around his head and tripping over his own chair. He crashed to the floor with a groan as he crawled on his hands and knees for a sword which hung on the back wall.

Nerris watched the King struggle for a moment. How easy it would be to sheath his blade and let the King end it all for him. But Nerris hadn't been brought up to live his life that way. If his death came this night, he would make damn sure he earned it.

He waited on Lahnen as he found his feet. Sweat ran down his Majesty's face, and Nerris could make out the faint burn scars Rade had spoken of. Lahnen yanked the scabbard off the wall and drew a longsword with an ornate hilt. "Who are you?" he asked.

"It won't matter in a few moments, either way," Nerris said.

"You were sent by Lady Qabala."

Nerris shrugged.

"What now?"

"I am no butcher," Nerris said. "If you wish to die with a sword in hand, I respect that, your Majesty. But you will die."

"Think about what you are doing," the King said. "I could give you mountains of riches, lands, women—"

Nerris sprang across the room. The King was stalling, hoping for more guards to arrive, and he had wasted enough time already. Lahnen shrieked and met Nerris blade to blade. Nerris tested him with a few strokes and saw by his clumsy parries and imperfect stance that Lahnen was not a competent swordsman. Nerris wasn't sure if he felt relief or disappointment.

At his next stroke, the King parried too high and Nerris cleaved downward at the hilt. Lahnen's sword fell from his grasp, and he dropped to his knees with Nerris's blade at his throat. Nerris smelled something rancid, and gazed downward to see a pool forming at the King's feet. His Majesty had soiled himself. Nerris turned his eyes back to King Lahnen's face, ignoring his choked sobs.

"Please," the King gibbered. "Please—"

Nerris granted him a quick death with a thrust straight to the heart. King Lahnen gasped and slumped forward onto the blade. Nerris pulled it free and the King fell face down to the floor. He lay still as blood pooled around him.

He wiped his blade on the King's night clothes and sheathed it with practiced ease. "I'm very sorry it had to be this way, your Majesty," he said. "May your soul now rest in your Yala's embrace."

Nerris made his exit quick, again following the map in his head. He took the main staircase out of the keep and walked in a leisurely stroll toward the barracks. The guards at the entrance of the royal keep assumed he was coming off his shift and let him pass with no questions. Once he was out of sight, Nerris turned away from the barracks and headed to the east. Mikaren had gone this direction, to secure their safe passage from the Aeternica.

The stables were empty inside, except for a few horses sleeping in their stalls. He saw no one, and just when he thought they had left without him, a pile of hay to his right stirred. Nerris turned toward it, one hand on the hilt of his sword, but Mikaren, Rade and Chalis emerged from the feed, brushing loose straw out of their hair.

"Is it done?" Rade asked.

Nerris took his hand from the hilt. "It's done."

Chalis clapped his hands together and looked as if to break out in a victory jig, but Mikaren caught him by the shoulder and shook his head. Rade simply nodded. "Good. There's a secret tunnel here that will take us under the walls. Once we're out of the city, we'll follow an old smuggling trail back to Lady Qabala's camp. If we get separated, head north. Her Ladyship won't be hard to find."

Nerris nodded and closed his eyes, letting a sigh escape. The release he craved had eluded him this night and had come for King Lahnen instead. He wasn't sure that made him feel happy or sad. Or whether he felt anything. But for now, he would return to Lady Qabala and receive the only pleasure left to him.

# Chapter Two

THEIR INFORMANT SHOULD be showered with riches, Nerris decided. The old smuggling trail wound through the thick forest north of Palehorse, and none of the King's men had spotted them. Their mission could not have gone better.

That was not to say they hadn't sighted Lahnen's soldiers. They hid whenever they heard their shouts in the distance, and Chalis taught them how to cover themselves in mud to fool the sharp noses of their pursuers' hounds. When the errant soldier or dog emerged from the brush, they lay still in the forest's muddy glades as their trackers walked right past them.

Lady Qabala herself had given Rade coin before they left, a pouch bursting with silver sepps and copper helms. It was enough to buy four horses once they emerged from the forest, and they wasted no time procuring their mounts. They were able to find a horse trader at the first village they encountered. Rade haggled so hard he had enough left over to bribe the villagers, in case soldiers came looking for them.

The farther north they rode, the less they had to fear pursuit. They were entering rebel territory under the control of her Ladyship, the young woman many were referring to as Qabala the Unbreakable. Not a year before she had been a dissenting voice, one of the many people fed up with King Lahnen and his endless taxes and policies. Now she led a vast host made up of soldiers, militia, and mercenaries.

Nerris's thoughts were interrupted as Chalis shoved a smoking haunch of rabbit in his face. Nerris pushed it away. "No, thank you."

"You should eat something," Rade said, sitting on a boulder he had rolled up to their crackling fire. "The game gets scarcer as the weather turns."

"I've been through a few winters," Nerris said. "I run faster when I'm hungry, that's all."

"Run?" Chalis asked.

"What do you call this?" Nerris gestured around them. "Mikaren didn't wander off just to take a piss."

"I reckon old King Lahnen took a piss when you came up on him," Chalis said.

Nerris nodded. "He did."

"So what happened back there?" Rade asked.

The question's directness startled Nerris. Ever since they fled the Aeternica, none of his companions had asked him about what had transpired in the King's chambers. "I'm a man who enjoys his privacy," he said. "I don't kiss and tell, with my lips or my blade."

Rade shrugged. "Fair enough. I'm surprised a man like you would take on the mantle of assassin, that's all." The old man got to his feet and shoved the boulder away, allowing him to pull his bedroll closer to the fire.

"And what do you know about me?" Nerris asked.

"A great deal more than you believe I do, Nerris Palada."

Nerris scoffed. "You've been listening to blowzy barmaids and fickle farmers."

"Who says I do? No, no one has given you away. I know who you are because of Derrin Palada."

Nerris stood. "How do you know my father's name?"

Rade lay across his bedroll, blanket draped on top, his back to Nerris. "You have your secrets, Nerris. Allow an old man the same courtesy."

Nerris stared, but Rade made no further comment. He turned back to a wide-eyed Chalis.

"You're—"

Nerris sighed. "Yes, I am Nerris Palada of the Thrillseekers. Let's not spread this around, all right?"

Chalis still gaped at him, unable to answer. Nerris turned toward his own bedroll to find Mikaren sitting by the fire, warming his hands. Nerris didn't even flinch at the older man's stealth. He was used to Mikaren's comings and goings by now. "Find anyone?" he asked.

"Two men," Mikaren said. "Outriders, most like. They won't be reporting back."

"Good." Nerris pulled his own blanket over his body.

Chalis pointed at him. "But you're Nerris—"

"Go to bed, Mikaren," Nerris interrupted. "Chalis is obviously too excited to sleep, so we'll let him have first watch."

A cold, stiff rain fell on them the next day as their mounts slogged northward through the mud. Rade determined they were far enough along, and could risk the Yellow Highroad without worrying about pursuit. They came out of the brush around midday and found the highway connecting Palehorse to Ryvetsk, the small city nestled in the center of the Yellow Plains.

Nerris was tying his brown hair back into a ponytail when Rade called him up. Nerris spurred his mount to catch up with the old man, whose gaze was locked in a continuous scan of the horizon.

"We're no longer followed," Nerris assured him. "No one living even knew what we looked like or how many we were. And Mikaren laid a false trail."

Rade grunted. "I'll rest easier when we're back at camp."

"That will be soon enough."

"I had it from someone in the last village that Lady Qabala sacked and burned Ryvetsk," Rade said. "She now marches to Palehorse, and we should intercept her soon."

"I'm glad I was away, then."

Rade cast him an unreadable look. "You didn't want your share of the spoils?"

"I'm a mercenary," Nerris said. "I fight when I want. Pillaging is something I want no part of."

"I see the stories of the Thrillseekers' honor hold up," Rade said. "That's why I was surprised to find you as an assassin."

"Was there something you wanted?"

"I wanted to apologize for what happened last night," Rade said. "I should have understood what happened between you and King Lahnen would be an uncomfortable subject. Killing someone that way cannot be easy, for one of your kind."

"Assassination isn't really a habit of mine," Nerris said. "I don't often hire my sword out for such tasks. This was only the second time. No harm done, Rade. But if you feel you wronged me, you can repay me with information. Many know the names of the Thrillseekers. But how did you know my father's name?"

"I knew him," Rade said, "back when we were still young, during the Enslavement War."

"He died shortly before I was born."

Rade nodded. "Yes. So you know your heritage?"

"My mother was part of the extended royal family of Faerna. Dist, Jhareth, and I found that out some years ago when we visited Faerlin. But of my father, I still know little."

"I see. I suppose that makes sense. His activities back then earned the wrath of some powerful people. They wouldn't have wanted his exploits to be widely known."

"How did you know my father during the Enslavement War? You would have been on opposite sides."

Rade shrugged. "How have you come to be here in Yagolhan, paving the way for a revolution? You never know where the luck of life will drop you, Nerris. It is interesting indeed that you are here. I'll have to think on this."

"I take it you're not going to tell me the nature of your relationship."

"I don't know if it's my place." Rade glanced behind them, where Chalis and Mikaren chatted in hushed, hyper voices. "I think you're winning some followers of your own."

Nerris chuckled. "Let them talk. I'm used to it."

Try as he might, Nerris could never keep his identity hidden for long. Nerris was not an uncommon name for a Faernan, but when his surname inevitably came out, people reacted. For almost ten years, he had traveled with his friends in a band known as the Thrillseekers. In that time, their deeds and legend grew, spreading like wildfire over the continent of Tormalia until they were akin to modern folk heroes. He did not seek the overbearing attention which came with all that, but he had to admit to himself he did not hate it either.

He allowed himself to drift to the rear, past the curious sidelong glances of Mikaren and Chalis. He reflected on his companions as he kept a careful eye on the road behind them. Each had been carefully chosen for this mission, once the plan was laid out. All of them were fierce and intelligent warriors, but had other skills as well. Mikaren and Chalis had been foresters before joining up, their main concern being the escape from Palehorse. Rade had a knack for supervision and carrying out complex tasks. And of course Nerris, for his stealth and determination.

That night, smoke plumes littered the distant horizon. The army of soldiers, refugees, and mercenaries known as the Qabalan Horde was close. Mikaren used their fire to send up smoke signals and alert her of their presence. Lady Qabala anticipated their return, and would have men watching. Sure enough, an escort emerged from the horizon the next morning. Rade shook Nerris awake, and he beheld their silhouettes in the distance, galloping straight for their camp.

One rider carried the banner of Lady Qabala: a stone split down the middle, one half white and one half black, circled by a wreath of flames. The leader, a large man a few inches taller than Nerris, dismounted and approached them. He removed his horned helm.

Rade nodded to him. "Falares."

Falares grunted some semblance of a response. He was Lady Qabala's bodyguard, a brute with no real rank. The men surrounding him gave a wide berth, not out of fear, but because of the stench emanating from beneath his leathers and furs. Rade, Nerris, Mikaren, and Chalis lined up, but did not salute. Falares glared at them with cold eyes and when he spoke, he revealed a mouth of broken teeth.

"Lady Qabala, Blade of Yala, the Unbreakable, Aeterna of the Yagol People, bids you welcome and thanks you for your duty in service to her kingdom," he said. The last part of her title surprised Nerris; Aeterna was the female derivative of a title not held since Yahd the Enslaver. He was even more shocked Falares had remembered all the words. There was a reason some men referred to him as the Lady's Ape.

"We will convey you forthwith to my Eternal's pavilion, where you will receive your reward for services sundered." Nerris rolled his eyes; looked like he had given him too much credit. Obviously he meant _rendered_.

With formalities completed, Nerris and his companions broke camp, riding across the plains to the Aeterna's encampment. Tents and cook fires littered the yellowed grass as they rode through, and the standard bearer called out for the Horde to make way. They did so gladly, and frequent cheers rang out behind them. Nerris and the others had taken the long way back to throw off pursuit. News of the King's death had probably reached them days ago. Every follower of the rebel queen's revolution rejoiced at the news.

Not many were sure how it began, but everyone knew where. Lady Qabala first rose to notoriety in the city of Lhan Del, the old capital of North Yagolhan. Seemingly overnight, she emerged as the voice of the city folk, crying out for justice and fairness from Lord Pieth Skovil. Her notoriety grew every time the Lord tried to arrest her, only to have Qabala vanish and emerge days or weeks later, inciting sedition anew.

The more Qabala had spoken out, the more people had poured into Lhan Del to take her part. Lord Skovil ran himself ragged in his pursuit, and their game continued through the city streets. And when the Lord was foolish enough to have his soldiers punish the people, it reached a boil. Qabala led them in revolt, and they overwhelmed his men and surrounded his castle gates.

Lord Skovil had laughed, looking down on this young girl, barely a woman, from his lofty parapet. To shame her, he suggested they settle their dispute in single combat. He had not expected her to accept, and also did not expect the following slaughter.

The city folk surged against the gates before the Lord had succumbed to his wounds. Lord Skovil's men hastened to close them, but shock at the defeat of their lord made them hesitate. The people stormed the castle, and the city of Lhan Del had been taken. At least, that was the story by the time Nerris had joined up. He knew firsthand how these tales could spread until factual events were a mere shell of repeated legend.

Lady Qabala's pavilion was the largest in the camp, stretching across forty feet of ground or more. They dismounted, and the rider with the banner planted it to the left of the entrance. Falares instructed them to wait, and went inside. Nerris looked around. Few by few, they had acquired a tail as they rode through camp and many Yagols packed the space around the pavilion.

The tent flap opened, and Lady Qabala stepped out before them. She was of medium height for a woman, a few inches shorter than Chalis, with a petite figure and swarthy skin. She wore form-fitting clothes, leather trousers and hauberk, and her short brown hair hung past her ears, curled a bit at the edges. Chalis, Rade and Mikaren went to one knee, but Nerris merely placed a fist across his chest and bowed as he would to a superior officer.

His first thought was that he should have bowed if he did not want his name known. It was known that the Thrillseekers bowed before no ruler except the King of Faerna, the monarch of their home country. This would cause the camp to talk. However, it was too late to change position now.

Qabala acknowledged them with a nod. Her curt expression made her appear older, her wide eyes the only hint to her extreme youth. "Rise," she told them, and Nerris's companions found their feet. "Friends," she said, raising her voice and calling out to the throngs who had amassed. "Rumors may fly swifter than the falcon, but now the proof stands before you. I present to you, the heroes of the day, returned from their mission to continue the fight alongside us. The tyrant Lahnen of House Y'Ghan is dead!"

A tumultuous cheer went up from the men, and Falares drew his longsword and held it aloft. "Long live Lady Qabala Aeterna! Unbreakable! Forever our queen!"

"Lady Qabala! Unbreakable! Forever our queen!" the men shouted as one.

Lady Qabala held up a hand for silence. "I am deeply moved by your show of loyalty, and every man here will reap reward when the crown is placed upon my head. We will throw off the blanket of tyranny and once again see sunlight, as our poor country stands united once again, but with richer quality. This will be reward for all, but before us stand four men who deserve commendation forthwith. Even as we took Ryvetsk and I cleaved through the body of Dume Araka, they stole into the Aeternica and ended the life of Lahnen the Tyrant, Lahnen the Incompetent, Lahnen the Corrupt!"

As the men cheered again, Nerris sucked in his breath. Dume Araka dead by Qabala's hand? The surprises kept coming. Araka Bosmick had once served Yahd Y'Ghan Aeternus as part of the Aeternal Council, and though that ruling body had since been disbanded by King Lahnen at the end of the Enslavement War, she had retained that title and served as a loyal general ever since. Nerris could see the symbolic implications of Qabala defeating another renowned female warrior.

"Rade, Chalis, Mikaren, my fellow Yagols," Qabala continued, "let it be decreed that upon my ascension to the throne and the restoration of order, you shall be given lands, wealth, and a keep. Your descendants will rule those lands henceforth, and your families will be eligible to contribute to the new Aeternal Council." She turned to the men. "For the Law of Eight shall be restored!"

"The Law of Eight!" the men cried.

Nerris frowned. She had not mentioned his name. Though he had no interest in staying in Yagolhan to till land and whelp spoiled nobles, he still felt a twinge of irritation. But why? Material rewards held no satisfaction for him anymore. He had been so wrapped up in his malaise upon what would happen at the Aeternica he hadn't even considered rewards.

"Return to your duties with lighter minds," Qabala said, "for our tyrannical foe lies dead along with one of his foremost Dume-Generals. Our victory nears, and the Blade of Yala is on our side. Go now, and prepare for our march to the capital."

Lady Qabala turned and stepped back inside her pavilion. "Lady Qabala Aeterna! Unbreakable! Forever our queen!" Falares shouted, and the assembled men reciprocated.

Nerris turned back to his companions as the Horde dispersed. Chalis and Mikaren were already in animated conversation with one another about what they would do with their leader's gifts. Mikaren concerned himself more with wealth, but Chalis's foremost thought was obtaining a beautiful wife.

"She didn't name you," Rade said to Nerris.

He shrugged. "Can't say Yagol lands interest me much, Rade."

"Nor I, I confess," Rade said. "I'm getting a little old for starting a family."

Nerris laughed. "I'm sure we can find some gold-digging maiden to take your wrinkled body. Just make sure you live long enough to give her a son."

Rade chuckled. "Why, Nerris, I believe that's the first time I've heard you laugh."

Falares stepped between them and cleared his throat. Rade backed away with a respectful nod, but Nerris met the man's gaze. "It's rude to interrupt a conversation, you know."

"The Aeterna wishes to see you," Falares said.

Nerris noted his breath reeked even worse than the rest of him. "Of course." He smiled, but Falares glared at him. Nerris walked to the pavilion and pushed open the tent flap. Normally, Falares would have demanded he turn over his weapons first, but Nerris was on a very short list of people to be admitted to the Lady's presence right away.

Inside, Qabala sat at a table, a map of Yagolhan spread before her. Stones at the corners weighted it down, and she moved painted figurines representing her army and King Lahnen's into place. For a moment, Nerris envisioned a little girl playing with her dolls, but shook it off. Young though she may be, to attribute such a trite pastime to her was beneath him. She deserved more respect after all she had accomplished in the last year.

"Nerris Palada," she said without looking up. "I see you were successful in your mission. I trust you came out unscathed?"

Nerris made a show of shaking his arms and checking his legs. "All parts seem to be in working order," he said.

Qabala rose and met his gaze with bright jade eyes. "I know you want your surname kept a secret, so I didn't reward you in front of everyone."

"I noticed, your Ladyship."

Qabala smirked. "Things have changed since last we saw each other. It's _my Eternal_ now."

Nerris rolled his eyes. "A meaningless affectation until you win the throne."

She stalked toward him. "I see you are as insolent as ever. Others have lost tongues for such talk."

"Isn't ripping out tongues the work of a tyrant?" Nerris asked. "If you truly want a new order, you might start with the way you deal with criticism."

"Be that as it may," Qabala said, moving even closer, "you have done this land a great service, mercenary or not, and I mean to give you your reward."

She wrapped her arms around Nerris's neck and pulled him toward her. Their lips met, and Qabala tensed against him. He wrapped his hands around her waist and returned the kiss, their bodies swaying back and forth as if the world itself teetered on the point of a needle. Finally, she released him.

"And it begins here," she whispered. "As it happens, I like your tongue right where it is."

# Chapter Three

QABALA INDULGED IN a deep slumber, more peaceful than she had in quite some time. Perhaps because she did not deign to dream that night. Her dreams tended to recall the painful memories of her adolescence. Coupled with the life of a military leader, it made her a light sleeper. The squealing of a horse and a soldier shouting outside her pavilion woke her. Yawning, she turned to her right. Nerris lay there, still asleep, a faint smile on his lips.

Qabala sighed. He had dozed off before he could make his exit. She had called him to her tent for the past three nights, but when they were finished, she bade him to go. It would not do for the men to think of her as some kind of slattern, and Nerris understood that. Indeed, their secret liaison seemed to amuse him, and he left her pavilion every night with a smirk, similar to the one he wore now.

This man, this former Thrillseeker, intrigued her from the first moment she discovered his presence among her mercenaries, during the march from Lhan Del to Ryvetsk. He had been friendly to her, if distant, but something about him caused her to request his presence every evening of the march.

She supposed it was because of the mystery surrounding him. There were songs about the Thrillseekers in every inn and tavern across the continent, and more than a few lordly courts as well. Why did Nerris seek to hide his status? They had discussed everything, from swordplay to politics to philosophy, and she grew more enamored as each night went by. In all that time, he had never once laid a hand on her or made inappropriate overtures. The day he returned from Palehorse was the first time they ever touched.

Her gaze drifted upward, to where the stars would have been if not for the top of her pavilion. She had held a passion for stargazing since childhood, and regretted she had not been able to indulge since beginning this campaign. Her favorite constellation was Agean the Phoenix. To Qabala, it represented strength. Strength she had once sought and now possessed. In a few months, it would appear in the northern sky, and she would be in Palehorse by then, if all went well.

It was said the royal quarters in the Aeternica had an exquisite balcony facing the north. Her gaze drifted back to Nerris's face. Perhaps they would see Agean together when the time came.

She brushed Nerris's hair from his face and laid a soft kiss on his brow. He stirred and opened his eyes, clearing his throat. He looked upon her and gave another hint of a smile. "My lady."

He said it so politely Qabala almost laughed. They were a bit beyond formalities at this point. "You fell asleep, dear. It's morning."

Nerris sat up, blankets falling to expose the dark hairs on his chest. "You should have woke me. Now the men will know I spent the night."

Qabala pulled Nerris back down beside her, and laid her head on his chest. "It's my fault. I don't usually sleep this well. I thought I would awaken in time to shoo you out of here."

Nerris put an arm around her and stroked her hair. "You don't care?" That was another thing about him; his gentle touch, in stark contrast to other men she had known.

"Let us merely say I am growing used to your presence," Qabala said. "I was most put out when you volunteered to go to Palehorse. I feared for you every night you were gone. Now that you've returned, I mean to keep you."

"Don't get too used to me," Nerris said. "Once you've taken the capital, your war will be all but finished. Then I'll be on my merry way."

Qabala frowned. "There is still Prince Lahnel. At last report, he was in Kallov, trying to win the support of Lord Bosmick."

"With Dume Araka dead at your hand, that should be easy enough," Nerris said, "but if you can get to Palehorse before he arrives back in the east, you can cut him off from Lesta."

Qabala nodded. "My thoughts exactly. It's crucial we take Palehorse before winter sets in. I don't just have my army with me, but my followers. Women, children, the elderly. My militia is made up of men looking to protect their families. Mere foraging will not be enough to see such a vast host through the winter. If their families begin to starve, my freemen may seek their fortunes elsewhere and we will be vulnerable for Lahnel and his forces to break the siege."

"You'll still outnumber them," Nerris said.

"I don't rely on numbers," Qabala said. "I have a responsibility to win this war with as little loss to my people as possible. That's why I will be sending a force west to meet Lahnel and the Bosmicks. At the least, it will give us much needed time."

"Not time enough to take the city before winter," Nerris disagreed.

Qabala allowed herself a smile. Even a mighty Thrillseeker could be trapped by convention, it would seem. But she was far from a conventional woman. "Refugees have been flooding Palehorse from the north for months now," she said. "Like the idiot he was, Lahnen took them in. What he did not know was that these men and women are loyal to me. By now I suspect they outnumber the remainder of Lahnen's city guard. At the appointed time, they will ensure the gates open for me."

"And who is going to coordinate these refugees?"

"Our informant," she told him. "Lukas Kord."

Nerris let out his breath, and she knew she had impressed him. Lukas Kord was a member of a minor house from the Mount Zoko area who had worked his way up to a high rank in Palehorse's city watch. He had also been taking bribes from her spies for the past year.

"You have a far reach, my lady," Nerris said, "but you should always keep your strategies secret. Lover or no, I'm still... how does Falares put it? A foreign goat, I think he calls me. Which never made much sense to me, given that my own house's sigil is a golden eagle. And when goats are kicked, they cringe and run away. I'm more like to kick back."

Qabala giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "You are no goat, Nerris. Of that I am sure. You're correct, I should only place this kind of trust in my own officers. That's why I mean to change your status."

"Come again?"

"I want you to lead the force I send against Prince Lahnel," she said. "The greater part of King Lahnen's army was routed and scattered at the Battle of the North Moor, and the King's death has left the rest of his loyalists disoriented. Prince Lahnel may still be a considerable threat if allowed to link up with his forces under Dume Rhonor at Lesta. If you delay him long enough, I can dispose of Rhonor's army before Lahnel even arrives. Once that happens, your men will disperse and allow Lahnel to proceed. You will then reform at his flank and we will hammer him between our two forces, and he will have nowhere to retreat. With that, the war will be ours."

"Surely Lahnel would not be that stupid," Nerris said.

"He is King Lahnen's son," Qabala insisted.

Nerris shrugged. "If you're right, you'll be the undisputed leader of Yagolhan. But the men will never follow a foreign mercenary."

"They will follow a Thrillseeker," Qabala said. "Every young man in this horde has grown up on the tales of the Thrillseekers, and their elders respect your prowess as well. Revealing who you are will be one more blow to Lahnen's regime. Half my followers already believe I'm Yala reincarnated, and producing you will inspire them all the more."

Nerris tensed. "I never want it known who I really am."

"They will find out eventually," Qabala said. "From what I hear, some of them already know. Besides, we haven't even gotten to your true reward yet. What will you do when the fighting is done, Nerris? Sweat your flesh away fighting tribal wars down in Egkari? You'll find no other battles in Tormalia at the moment. I implore you, stay here. You will not only have me, but I will make you part of the Aeternal Council. How does Dume Nerris sound to you?"

"Only a member of the Yagol nobility can be on the Council."

"I mean to change that," Qabala said. "For too long have my people been crushed under the monsters of the major houses."

"You would make new monsters, then?"

Qabala frowned. She had envisioned this going much smoother. "Stay with me," she repeated, "and not only will you be a Dume-General, but my consort. We will make strong sons to rule after us until the end of days."

Nerris laughed, which made Qabala's ire rise. She was giving him everything a normal man would want. What else would it take to keep him at her side?

Nerris glanced over and looked at her face. "I'm sorry. The thought of marrying an Aeterna sounds so absurd to me. I was raised in a rural village in the Great Oak Forest. My mother traded turnips and sold homemade jewelry for a living."

"Yet you have noble blood yourself. Even the more conservative of my people would accept that."

Nerris sat up again, disentangling himself from her. "I will lead your diversionary force, if that is your command. As for the Aeternal Council... once, when I was able to dream as you do now, I would have been tempted. Now I'm just a warrior looking for a battle to die in." He removed his blankets and put on his underclothes.

Qabala sat up and threw the blankets off as well, exposing her full nude figure. She grabbed Nerris by the shoulders and threw him back onto the straw mattress, climbing on top of him. She gave him a hard look, and could feel his manhood stiffening beneath her. How dare this insolent man throw her offer in her face. How dare this insolent, complicated, wonderful man...

Before she could give him what for, Falares entered the pavilion and bowed, his long blond plait dropping past his shoulder. He looked up at Nerris and Qabala, his eyes going wide. Qabala sighed. The man still hadn't learned to announce himself. She climbed off Nerris and stood, not bothering to hide her nakedness.

She put her hands on her hips. "What is it, Falares?"

The big man's eyes scanned her body, but Qabala didn't care. Every man in her army looked at her that way, and it gave her pleasure to tease one of them with what they could never have. Falares cleared his throat. "We are ready to break camp, my Eternal."

"Excellent." Qabala pulled the blanket up and wrapped herself in it as Nerris put his trousers back on. "I mean to arrive at Palehorse within a fortnight."

Nerris coughed. "You have much to plan. I'll leave you to it." He gathered up the rest of his clothes, as well as his sword and scabbard.

"Wait, Nerris," Qabala said. "You can't just leave. The men will see you."

He smiled. "I'm a Thrillseeker, my lady. We're used to making our own exits."

He drew his katana. It was a curved sword of folded steel from a distant land, which Qabala was unfamiliar with. With a mighty swipe, it made a tall slit in the tent wall. Nerris sheathed his blade and surveyed his work. "Problem solved. Now I can come and go unseen, and you won't have to worry about calling me under the pretense of 'strategic consultation.' " With a smirk and a wave, he disappeared through his improvised tent flap.

Falares sniffed. "You let that foreign goat talk to you that way?"

"That foreign goat could cut you to ribbons with that blade of his," Qabala said. "Don't ever forget that."

"I do not understand why my Eternal places him high in her heart. The men expect better from their Aeterna."

Qabala rolled her eyes. Of course he wouldn't understand. Men like Falares were ruled by three priorities: eating, fucking, and fighting. Anything else was an abstract concept to them. "The men have their way with the camp followers every night, Falares. I merely claim the same comforts. They may think of me as a goddess, but that is not what I am. Not yet."

Falares dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "Please do not say such things, my Eternal. You are the savior of our people, the dawn which routs the night. You have ended the reign of a foul tyrant and will give this kingdom back to its people."

"And I don't aim to stop there," Qabala said, "but that does not make me any less than human. Give me half an hour and I will join you at the head of the column. Send in Meeka to draw my bath." She thought for a moment. "I've changed my mind. Make that a full hour."

Falares saluted and left the pavilion. Qabala went to the metal tub and placed her hand on the rim, waiting for her handmaiden. The tub was big enough for two, and Qabala wished she had stopped Nerris from leaving so soon. They could have washed each other clean as she needled away at him until he accepted her proposal. But she would win that battle, as she intended to win the one coming against Prince Lahnel.

A short time later, Meeka entered with a pail full of hot water. The mousy blonde sloshed it into the tub and left the tent, returning with more water until the tub was full. Finally, she made one last trip and came back with a hank of soap and a clean rag.

Qabala let her blanket fall and climbed into the tub. "Put the soap in the pail," she told the servant, "and join me."

Meeka cast her eyes downward and nodded. As she removed her cloth dress, Qabala leaned back to submerge her hair in the warm water. Lahnel would be in for a nasty surprise if he came east, and Nerris would be with her, where he belonged. By the time the winter flurries floated down, she would have all she desired.

# Chapter Four

MUCH AS QABALA predicted, the revelation of Nerris as one of the Thrillseekers and his appointment to commander elicited a hearty reaction from the rest of the army. Many he had never spoken to approached him now, each wanting to clasp hands with their new officer. The camp followers offered themselves to him in brazen fashion, some prettier than others. Nerris turned them all down.

Qabala picked his officers, but gave Nerris his own choice of who would ride in his personal guard. The first men he sought out were Rade, Chalis, and Mikaren. He knew them from their mission to Palehorse and back, and knew how they fought and lived. He could depend on them.

He found Chalis in the mess tent, chatting with a young mercenary who the high cheekbones of an Agossean. When they noticed him, both men stood and saluted. "Don't let me interrupt your meal," Nerris said. "Chalis, I would have you ride with me when my company departs for the west."

"Of course, Nerris... Commander, I mean," Chalis said. "I am honored."

"Commander," the other young man said, "Allow me to say I am most humbled to meet you again."

"Have we met?"

The man nodded. "Name's Dolias, if it please you. I was but a child in the village of Roden when you and the Thrillseekers freed us from the onslaught of raiders." He turned to Chalis. "For months, they took everything we had, until Nerris, Dist, and Jhareth took care of them. I was in my sixth summer at the time."

"Then you were too young to remember the first time we passed through," Nerris said. "We were on our way to Gauntlet, untrained and inexperienced. We were lucky those bandits didn't kill us. We only came back after receiving two years of instruction in fighting. We were out for revenge."

"Still, the village talks about it to this day," Dolias said. "I learned how to soldier because I wanted to be just like you."

Nerris nodded. "And how are you decorated, soldier?"

Dolias furrowed his brow. "Before this war, I soldiered some in Sicoria, when the last fight over the spice trade broke out. I've also lent my sword to the clans in Chei-Dao across the Northern Ocean."

"Ah, a world-traveled man," Nerris said. "I think you'll do. Ride with us and we'll make Prince Lahnel think twice about coming east."

Dolias saluted. "It would be my pleasure, Commander."

Nerris took his leave and made his way down the hill to a nearby brook, where he sat on a rock and drew his blade. The Miagamese steel shone bright in the morning sun, which reflected off the water. Nerris retrieved a small cask and rag from his satchel. He poured some oil from the cask onto the rag and carefully went about polishing the katana. As he had warned Qabala in their very first conversation, katana were dangerous weapons to the wielder as well as enemy. They bore the keenest edges in the world, and men had been known to cut off a finger merely by running a hand along the blade. She had wanted to examine the weapon nevertheless.

"It's so thin," she commented as she turned it by the hilt. "Almost like a toy sword. Even my saber has a thicker blade."

"This sword has a known history of cutting through three human torsos at once," Nerris said. "It's also been known to break lesser swords. Its name is Noruken."

"A noble-sounding name," Qabala said.

"It means Sword of the Shooting Star, or close enough," Nerris said. "It loses a bit in translation. Supposedly, metal from a fallen star was mixed in with the forging."

"How ever did you come by something this extraordinary?"

Nerris shook his head. It was best not to dwell on Miagama. Three years had passed since he left the far eastern kingdom, but it seemed much longer. If not for the proof his sword offered, he might have thought it all a dream.

Instead, he thought of Qabala, the unique young woman who had captured the hearts of the people of Yagolhan. He had not known much about her before attending her every night, and her forwardness had taken him by surprise on his return from Palehorse. She was the first woman he had been with in a long time. In addition to the Horde's reaction, Qabala seemed pleased with herself now that Nerris had accepted his new post. He hoped she did not mistake his acquiescence for an intention to accept her other proposals.

"Uncanny." Nerris turned at the voice to find Rade standing behind him. The graybeard saluted. "For a moment, I could have sworn your father sat there, polishing his bastard sword."

"My mother always said he deigned to fight with a mace," Nerris said.

"He was best with the mace, true, but always kept a sword ready just in case." Rade gestured to the rock next to Nerris. He nodded his consent. The old man sat with a grunt. "What became of your mother?"

"You're going to tell me you knew her as well?" Nerris asked.

"When I was younger, I made it a point to know all the fair ladies of the land," Rade said with a twinkle in his eye. "Alas, when I met her, she was already head over heels for Derrin Palada."

"She died in my thirteenth year," Nerris said. "A fever took her in the spring. When summer came, Dist, Jhareth, and I left Haladast for good."

Rade chuckled. "So that's where she ended up. I am sorry, Nerris. Your mother was a kind woman."

Nerris nodded. "What brings you out here? Your fancy for dangling stories about my family over me?"

"There's where you're not like your father," Rade said. "You have a prickly disposition."

"Do I?" Nerris asked. "I suppose that's how the world made me."

"Actually, I was asked to deliver you to the pavilion of the Aeterna, to await her pleasure." He winked.

Nerris rolled his eyes. Not much got by this old man. "Qabala isn't Aeterna. She hasn't touched a godstone, and unless she's got one stowed away in her pocket, she never will. Those stones haven't been seen in almost thirty years."

Rade shrugged. "Who's to say what she has or hasn't done? No one knows much about her life before the massacre in Lhan Del."

Nerris put away the rag and sheathed his blade. "Be that as it may, I'm hardly the only person she'll need to convince. I suppose I should see what she wants." He stood and walked back up the hill.

"Have fun," Rade called after him.

As he walked through the camp, men stopped in their tasks to salute him and children stared at him in awe. Nerris pondered if the dogs would be next to fawn over him. He wondered exactly what Qabala had been telling her people.

As he approached her pavilion, Nerris caught sight of a young girl attempting to carry two heavy buckets of water up the hill. As she stumbled, Nerris reached out and caught her wrist before she could spill one of them.

"Have a care, Meeka," he said.

The girl gasped in surprise. "Nerris... Commander. My lord." She made an awkward curtsy. Qabala's pretty handmaiden had waited on him many times during the evenings he spent with the would-be Aeterna. Before their relationship had changed.

Nerris chuckled. "I'm no lord. Let me help you with that."

Qabala's pretty servant shied away. "No, it is my task. My Eternal bade me to wash her armor."

"Please, let me help," Nerris said. "Qabala works you too hard as it is."

"You are kind to say so," Meeka said, "but my Eternal may be cross if you are late. If she knows I held you up, she could have me whipped..." Meeka turned her face, blushing. "Forgive me. I spoke ill of the Aeterna."

Nerris frowned. "Ill or truth?" Meeka did not answer, and Nerris shrugged. "Very well, I'll leave you to your duties. I ought not to test the lady's patience."

Meeka bowed her head, and followed Nerris into the tent. Meeka sat her buckets on a nearby table and went about her preparations as Nerris sauntered to Qabala's makeshift field bed. Lady Qabala sprawled amongst the blankets and cushions, decked out in leather riding trousers and a cloth halter which barely covered her breasts. She flashed Nerris a seductive smile, her jade eyes following his movements. "Meeka, leave us for a moment."

Meeka bowed and made her exit as Nerris saluted. "Lady Qabala, a pleasure to be in your presence as always."

Qabala gestured to the cushion beside her. "Come sit with me."

Nerris set his katana on the table and removed his cloak. He joined Qabala on the bed, and she curled up beside him at once. "So cruel that propriety would keep us apart for the majority of days," she said. "Once I am Aeterna in truth, you will be at my side in perpetuity."

She intertwined her fingers with his, and Nerris let her. Despite everything, including his vow that he was through with women, something irresistible about this young leader enflamed his senses. He admired her tenacity, if nothing else. "I have not said yes yet, my lady," he said.

"You will come around, once you see what is offered," Qabala said. "You may be a Thrillseeker, Nerris, but you've never known true power. I never thought I would enjoy this either; but then, I grew up in a mud brick hut with a foster father who beat me at every turn. I was not destined to be powerful, yet when the chance arose I took it all the same."

"You've never talked of your father before," Nerris said.

"Foster father," Qabala spat out between clenched teeth. "The man took over care of me when my real father died. He was no family of mine." She put a hand on Nerris's sternum. "When he was angry, he would wait until I was bent over doing some chore and kick me right here. The pain would be awful, and I couldn't breathe for many minutes. So it went until I flowered. At that point, he found... other uses for me." She shuddered beside him.

Nerris sucked in his breath. "That's horrible."

Qabala nodded and nuzzled against Nerris's chest. He stroked her hair and they remained silent for a long time. Finally, Qabala spoke again. "I got my revenge in the end. It was the first proactive thing I ever had the courage to do. I suppose I should be grateful. It made me harder, stronger, with the knowledge that I need to cower before no man."

That made Nerris think of Meeka, and he clenched his teeth in anger. "And you feel that gives you the right to abuse your own servants?"

Qabala gave him a sharp look. "Who told you that?"

"Never mind," Nerris said. "Just seems odd to me. Someone like you, fighting to free her people from an oppressive regime, acting no better than a petty thug."

Qabala slapped him. The light strike gave him no pain, but it was hard enough to get his attention. "Meeka is no servant, she is a slave. No, don't look at me like that. The prohibition of slavery by Prince Lahnel is what led to the downfall of his house. Without that, not near as many of his supporters would have come over to me, and Kahz Rinad would never have lent me his jaguar warriors. Without that, my rebellion would never have gained a foothold. People do not follow me for freedom, but for the hope of freedom. There is a difference."

The slave trade was the economical backbone of Raddoni, Nerris knew. With Sicoria and Yagolhan being the only other countries in Tormalia to support such a brutal practice, it made sense the Kahz would back the Qabalan Horde in this conflict.

"Still, cruelty is something you should be above," Nerris said. "An Aeterna is supposedly the voice of a goddess come to ground, pledged to look after her people."

Qabala giggled. "Nerris, you are so decent. Don't worry about it. She's just a slave. Sometimes they need a firm hand."

Nerris kept silent. Qabala was a Yagol through and through, and arguing with a Yagol about slavery was as futile as waiting for a mountain snowcap to thaw. She was correct from a political perspective, of course. Not for the first time, he reflected on the remarkable duality this young woman had shown him during their brief acquaintance.

He took her fingers again. "I like your hands best when they are gentle."

Qabala gave him a chaste kiss. "That is sweet of you, dear, but before we can get to more pleasurable business, I have news."

She stood and walked to her war table. Nerris joined her and she pointed out a cluster of markers near Kallov, representing Lahnel's western army. "I have received word Prince Lahnel and Lord Petaka Bosmick are on the move. As I thought, they are headed to Palehorse. Your detachment will leave tomorrow. You will wind your way through the mountain passes and harry his force, continually falling back until they arrive here."

She put her finger on a dot labeled as the village of Gelnicka. "Here is where your true battle lies. Mind you, you are to slow him, so do not try to win. Your force will not be sufficient enough to be victorious in a pitched battle. If you cause him enough damage, he will most certainly stop in the village to lick his wounds. When he believes you are routed, you will reassemble at his rear. By then, I imagine Dume Rhonor's army will be on the move and I will meet him at the gates of Palehorse. After I smash him, I will come west and end this before the ground even gets cold."

Nerris frowned. "I still don't think Prince Lahnel will go for it."

"What choice does he have?" Qabala asked. "He stands no chance without combining with Dume Rhonor, and even then he's outnumbered."

"Why me, anyway? I studied at Gauntlet, and am well-versed in battle tactics, true. But I am an adventurer, not a leader of men."

"I want my people to get used to you in that position," Qabala said. "The weight of this mission against its level of risk is perfect for you to get your feet wet before you become one of my Dume-Generals."

"We'll see about that," he said.

Qabala smiled and fluttered her eyelashes. "You would not disappoint your Eternal, would you?"

Nerris laughed. "You are persistent."

"One other thing," she said. "After Lahnel marches to meet me, put the village of Gelnicka to the torch. Should he escape us somehow, he will find no refuge there."

"No," Nerris said.

Qabala rounded on him. "Excuse me?"

"No," Nerris repeated. "No firings, rapes, or murder. I will not have that in any force I lead."

"You are leading soldiers, Nerris. Would you prohibit breathing, sleeping, and shitting as well?"

"I saw too much needless carnage when Gauntlet rebelled against King Ullas in Agos," Nerris said, "and much more since then. I am a mercenary, my lady, not subject to you or Prince Lahnel or anyone else. If I lead, I will do it my way, or take my sword and go."

Qabala dashed forward and grabbed his arms as if afraid he might make good on that vow here and now. "I meant no disrespect, Nerris. I confess my ways are brutal at times. They have been a necessity merely to survive, to stay alive in this war. Your decency and honor is why I want you to lead, why I want you to be my Dume-General and consort... it's why I love you. Please, stay with me and help temper these shortcomings of mine."

Nerris looked into her wide eyes, seeing a rare glimpse of the girl who lurked underneath the armor and the mantle of leadership. The fervency in her speech took him aback. Love? He doubted she had ever experienced that before, but she said it with such conviction. He gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. "I do not plan to go anywhere yet. As long as I can lead on my terms."

"Of course," Qabala said. "Should you think this the best course to follow, I trust your judgment."

Nerris bowed his head, and Qabala flashed him an impish smile. She walked to the tent flap and made sure it was secured tight. "As loath as I am to part with you for such an extended period," she said, turning back to him, "I confess I have lured you into a bit of a trap. Falares has orders that no one is to disturb me all day, except owing to direst emergency. We part company for some time tomorrow, but for now, let's make today ours."

She rushed him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Nerris grabbed her by the waist and hauled her off her feet, carrying her toward the bed. She yanked him down with as much force as her lithe body could muster, and they tumbled to the cushions, laughing the whole way.

As she fumbled at his belt while inundating his lips with a deep kiss, Nerris opened his eyes. Though near midday and the tent well lit, he saw something dark out of the corner of his eye. What looked to be black mist hovered near the pavilion's entrance. It remained for only a moment before it vanished.

Qabala sensed his hesitation and drew back from him. "What is it?"

Nerris looked from her to where he had seen the mist, but not a trace of it remained. "Nothing," he said. "For a moment, I thought someone was there."

"I told you, we won't be disturbed." She lifted her halter, exposing her pert breasts. She leaned down until they were level with his face. "Don't let it concern you, Nerris. There are other things to gawk at."

He buried his face in her chest, and listened as she moaned above him, her hot breath touching the back of his neck. Qabala was right; she needed him to help mold her into the best ruler she could be, whether as a queen or Aeterna. She had been raised brutally, and brutality was all she knew. But he could show her a better way.

For the first time in three years, something was there in Nerris's mind. An inkling sprang forth, a spark which grew brighter with each passing moment. Something to live for.

# Chapter Five

THEY MOVED OUT at first light, ten thousand strong of the sixty thousand fighting men who were said to comprise the Qabalan Horde. Nerris rode at the head of the cavalry, with Rade, Mikaren, Chalis, and Dolias around him, along with a thousand more sabres and mercenaries. Though Yagolhan had no order of knighthood, the kingdom boasted a fine tradition of equestrian warfare. Colonel Quin commanded the other brigade of light cavalry. Quin was a solid military man with a balding head and bushy moustache. Qabala sent him to supplement Nerris, who wasn't as familiar with the terrain in southern Yagolhan as the grizzled commander.

Behind them followed three infantry units, two thousand archers and six thousand foot. Every man wore a leather cover over their hauberks, painted with the colors of the mountains and autumn foliage to owe for better maneuverability in the brush. Nerris fingered the black and gold officer's sash hanging across his chest. He wasn't used to wearing one and kept having to adjust it.

Nerris glanced up at the cloud cover overhead. Though it was late autumn, they were far enough north that an early snow was possible. Ten thousand boots and hooves leaving tracks in the white would certainly wreak havoc on their plans.

"Admiring the beautiful weather, I see," Rade said.

"I prefer cloudy days," Nerris said.

"Oh?"

"Cloudless skies are merely a harbinger of sorrow," Nerris said. "At least with the clouds, I know the worst is already here."

The next day, the division entered the forest known as Yahd's Walk. Their orders were to spend the night among the trees, and in the morning Rade and other forest-savvy commanders would split off from the main group, following game trails north and south until they had sufficient distance to close in on Prince Lahnel's army. They would set up ambushes and attack supply wagons until their prey stumbled into Gelnicka. There they would regroup with the rest of Nerris's division.

The trees in the wood hugged close, allowing little daylight through the rusted canopy. This precipitated some muttering amongst his soldiers. Almost all in his forces were pure Yagol, and they cast nervous glances at the trees. Nerris sent Mikaren out to talk to the men, to seek out the cause of unrest. "This forest is named after the Enslaver?" Nerris asked Rade while he waited.

"Yes," Rade said, "though here in Yagolhan we call him Unifier or Conqueror. It's said that when he was a youth, Yahd Y'Ghan dared to walk this wood by himself on his quest to see all of Yagolhan. He knew his destiny was to end the petty wars and unite the kingdom, you see. No one knew how he knew, but somehow he did it."

"What makes this forest so special?"

"It's supposed to be haunted," Rade said. "Trees which snatch men from their saddles, foul ghouls slaughtering travelers in the night. I'm sure you've heard the sort about other woods."

"Is that why the men are nervous?"

"Couldn't say, Commander."

However, Mikaren soon returned and confirmed his theory. "We shouldn't have come this way," he said. "Many of these men are not soldiers and will run if frightened."

"The trees are certainly unsettling," Nerris scoffed, "but hardly haunted. Spread the word that should any branch make a grab, the men have my leave to put the torch to them to prevent further groping."

Chalis and Dolias laughed, but Rade frowned. "I wouldn't be quick to joke, Nerris. The wood itself may indeed be harmless, but its reputation attracts undesirables of all sorts."

"Yes, about ten thousand of them," Dolias said, winking to Chalis.

Rade's thought proved true, when a volley of arrows darted their way from the tree branches to fall among his men. One soldier toppled from his horse, an arrow punched through his breast. One of the mercenary's horses fell screaming with an arrow in its side, and threw her rider to the ground.

Soldiers shouted around him, but Nerris drew up his most commanding voice. "Sparrows in the trees, pecking at a hawk!" he shouted. "Do not break formation!"

Several similar attacks came as they marched, and Nerris grew more irritated with each one. Every time, he sent men to pursue these archers, but no one who returned found anything. Those who did not return told no tales either.

"Who are these men?" Nerris asked. "Do they intend to bleed us all the way to Gelnicka?"

"Local loyalists to the crown, I think," Rade said. "Don't let it rattle you."

"And what happens if you take an arrow in the heart?" Nerris asked. "Or Colonel Quin, or myself? Something needs to be done about this."

"Find a man who sees no color," Mikaren said.

"Beg your pardon?"

"These men use the colors of the forest to hide them, but a man who sees no color can more easily pick out movement. If you place him with an accurate bowman..."

Nerris saw where he was going. "That's an excellent idea, Mikaren. Take Chalis and see if we have such a man with us."

Mikaren and Chalis saluted and galloped off. Half an hour later, they returned with an older man who sported a white beard and a mole on his left cheek. His salute was somewhat nervous when he laid eyes on the commander.

Nerris nodded at the man. "At ease. I understand you see no color, is it..."

"Cheld, Commander," the man said. "Aye, I see naught but shades of black, white, and gray. Been that way since I was small."

"Good." Nerris gestured to the trees dotting the path around them. "There are archers in these trees, Cheld. As we ride, you are to keep your eyes on them. If you spot any movement, tell Chalis. Chalis, you think you can pick off any targets Cheld points out?"

Chalis fingered his bow and jutted his chin at a boulder fifty yards away. "I could hit that stone dead center and have another arrow out before it bounced off."

"I'll leave you to it, then."

They gave Cheld one of the victims' horses, and he rode beside Chalis, leaning over to whisper to him every so often. Chalis would nod, notch an arrow, and loose into the tree branches. It pleased Nerris to hear an accompanying scream follow the whistle of every arrow. He put Mikaren in charge of investigating the bodies, but no man carried any identification. With the fifth dead archer, though, the one-eyed hunter returned with a grim look on his face.

"Look at this," he said, handing a strange bow to Nerris. A rudimentary sigil was etched on the bow. The crudity made it difficult to discern, but they agreed it resembled a wolf's head.

"House Bosmick," Nerris replied. "Prince Lahnel knows we're coming."

"It's logical," Rade said. "He knows that Lady Qabala does not want him to link up with Dume Rhonor, or he'll have enough of a force to break the siege. By now, the scouts will be off to report our numbers."

"Mikaren, go to Commander Quin and tell him we will make camp for the night," Nerris said. "We'll need to modify our strategy a bit."

Soon, Quin called a halt. Chalis went about setting up Nerris's tent. He had appointed the young man as his personal aide, or squire, as he would be considered where Nerris was from. As darkness fell, Nerris lit a lamp and had a table brought in, where he placed a map of the area. Soon, Quin and Rade arrived.

"Prince Lahnel is aware of our presence now," Nerris said. "He's trying to slow us down so he can choose a battleground. We're still approximately a four days' march from Gelnicka. We need to buy some time and force him to choose that place to fight us. Rade, you were to take one thousand cavalry to harry their ranks and supply wagons. I want you to double that number. Ride hard, until you come here." Nerris pointed to a mountain pass west of Gelnicka. "Fall on him from both sides and cripple his wagons until he slows. If we can beat him to Gelnicka, the battle will be there."

Quin frowned. "If Rade's men should fall, we'll be short half our cavalry," he said. "Our scouts report he has double our numbers with six thousand cavalry. We'll be at a severe disadvantage."

"I know," Nerris said, "but if Rade doesn't fail, we'll be able to surround them at the battle. We may be able to smash him right here and now."

"That's not what the Aeterna ordered," Quin said.

"I'm improvising," Nerris said. "If we can get spearmen on their flank, we could rout their cavalry. The rest will follow soon enough."

Quin still had reservations about the plan, but Rade was enthusiastic enough and insisted he would be back at Gelnicka with nary a man lost. Nerris dismissed them, and settled in for the night. As he lay on his bedroll, his thoughts turned to Qabala. How was she faring? Her army would reach Palehorse soon. Would Dume Rhonor's army be waiting for them? Would her agents provide her access to the city without a siege, as the defector Lukas Kord had promised?

He found he was anxious about the battle to come, something he had not felt since becoming a mercenary. For the first time in a long time, he cared whether he lived or died. He wanted to make it back to Qabala, to present her the gift of victory. And then...

What then? Stay at her side in Palehorse? Become a Dume-General and rule with her? The throne was not for him, Nerris knew that much. But was Qabala?

He fell into a fitful slumber from which he awoke an hour later. He knew why. He had reached for Qabala while asleep, and upon not finding her, panic jolted him awake. He sighed. Who was this strange, beautiful, captivating woman who had ensnared his affections so fluidly?

Nerris dressed himself and left the tent. The chirping of crickets filled the chilly night air, and Nerris noted he could now see his own breath. The season had begun to turn. He encountered a guard at the camp perimeter, who looked half asleep himself. He hailed Nerris with a sloppy salute. "Uh, Commander—"

"It's all right," Nerris said as he walked past him. "Just taking a piss. I can't abide the smell of chamber pots."

The guard nodded and let him through. Nerris wandered away from the camp, stepping carefully in the dark. He had not lied; encampments tended to smell of piss and shit and smoke, and he never had much liking for it. He wanted to get into the forest, to feel the cool breeze on his face and listen to the sounds of nature.

Though Nerris had grown up in the Great Oak Forest, these woods had their own unique presence. The gnarled trees seemed like hulking giants, especially in the dark, and it was no wonder the place had such a frightening reputation. Even Nerris, who braved horrors both physical and supernatural with frequency, kept a hand on his scabbard. He found a trail, and stepped over the fallen leaves silently, as he had been taught in his hunting classes at Gauntlet. Whether ghosts were out here or not, his presence was best kept secret.

Nerris thought about the coming battle as he walked, and Prince Lahnel's feeble attempts to slow him. Something didn't seem right about that business with the archers. What had he hoped to accomplish?

Lost in thought, he suddenly realized he had strayed far from the camp. He had climbed a hill, and could see the cook fires glowing in the distance. He strained to hear any sound, a man's shout, a horse's whinny, but he was too far away. He found a likely spot, and rolled down his riding pants, relieving himself on a tree stump.

When he finished, he pulled his pants up and buckled his belt. That was when he finally heard a sound, drifting into his ears from over the hill. He heard many voices, raised in processional chant. It was faint, but it carried on the wind.

Nerris knew he was in command of an army and had no business risking his neck so flippantly, but a lifetime of habitual curiosity was difficult to deny. Nerris sneaked over the crest of the hill and came upon a small copse, overlooking a glade in the far distance, well below his perch.

Many chanters littered the glade, each wearing some kind of robe. Those on the fringe carried torches, giving light to their gathering. As Nerris strained to hear, a twig snapped behind him. In one quick motion, Nerris freed his katana from its scabbard and spun, swinging the blade in an arc.

Steel clashed against steel as the figure behind him got his sword up. "Nerris, it's me!" Rade hissed.

Nerris hesitated before he went for his next stroke, and saw the old man's gray beard and eyes twinkling in the moonlight. Nerris sheathed his sword. "Don't ever do that, Rade," he said. "I nearly cut you in half."

"Good thing my sword-arm reflexes haven't gone to rust like the rest of me," Rade replied.

"What are you doing out here, anyway?"

"Might ask you the same thing, Commander." Rade sheathed his own blade. "It's a nice night for a moonlight stroll, but you're too valuable to lose. I'm just acting under Lady Qabala's orders. She wants you tailed at all times."

"Tailed?"

Rade shrugged. "She _really_ wants you to come back to her. What's so important that you need to leave camp in the middle of the night? Was Chalis's cooking that bad?"

Nerris pointed at the gathering in the distance. "I heard voices."

Rade looked out onto the glade, and his lips pursed. "Ah."

"Who are they?"

"Undesirables." Rade's mouth curled. "With those dark robes, they must be cultists."

Nerris leaned out further over the edge of the copse. "Cultists?"

"They've been the bane of northern Yagolhan for longer than I care to remember," Rade said. "They manipulate people's minds, make them into something that's not themselves. They pray to a being known as the Tattered Man. New members are initiated by abduction rather than request, and they practice unnatural rites. But what are they doing this far south?"

"What kind of rites?"

"Human sacrifice is a popular one," Rade said. "Murder is everything the Law of Eight stands against."

"What are you talking about?" Nerris asked. "What does the Aeternal Council have to do with this?"

"Nothing," Rade said. "The Aeternal Council was established thousands of years ago, its philosophy bastardized from a higher purpose to fit the whims of a power-hungry ruler."

"What higher purpose?"

The chanting below picked up volume as more cultists joined in. They brought a man forth. He was naked, his manhood flopping side to side as the robed figures jostled him between them. The man's captors laid him over a rock, and a figure emerged from the throng. The chanting stopped and became a kind of long gasp as he held up a hand, holding a long, curved knife.

He approached the naked man and yanked back his hair. The robed figure began to saw through the man's scalp. Blood ran down the victim's face, obscuring his features. The captive screamed, long and primal.

Nerris started forward, but Rade grabbed him. "There's nothing we can do, Nerris, There has to be fifty of them down there."

"The men—"

"They would be long gone before you came back with any kind of force," Rade said. "Hard to pin down, these cultists."

In the glade, the cultist had finished his gory work and held up his victim's bloody scalp for all to see. The chanting resumed, and this time mist formed as if called from the air itself. Nerris sucked in his breath. It was the same black mist he had seen in the tent on that last morning he spent with Qabala.

The cult leader held out his hand at the man, and Nerris felt something, almost like a pull. Then it rushed out, and in the distance, the victim's chest blew apart, spraying blood and flesh all over the surrounding cultists. The lifeless man fell into a pool of blood, and the cultists around them cheered. Nerris felt ill, but he quickly stymied that reaction and replaced it with fury.

He drew his blade. "That tears it."

Before he could move or Rade could stop him again, the wind picked up in a violent rush. The torches in the glade flickered, and some of them went out. The rush of new voices filled the night air, rapid whispers which sounded like a combination of man and animal. Many shadows darted back and forth across the glade, and the cultists panicked. Chants turned to shouts of fear, and men stumbled over each other in their haste to flee.

Nerris strained his eyes but couldn't see anything but shadows and fleeing cultists. The whispering became more coherent, as what sounded like music and laughter mixed in with the wind. The shadows grew more numerous until they covered the entire glade.

And just like that, the glade stood empty. The wind died down with the same quickness it had come. Only Nerris and Rade were left standing at their hiding place, looking down on a glade where blood had stained the ground moments before. Where the sacrifice had fallen, flowers now bloomed.

"What in Clystam's name happened?" Nerris said after a long silence.

"What needed to." Rade's voice had lost its usual joviality, his words coming out solemn. "Come, Nerris. Those cultists will trouble this place no more."

Nerris followed Rade back down the hill and toward the camp. It was much in the same state in which he left it; not one man in the ten thousand he commanded seemed to have heard anything which had transpired beyond the hill.

"Don't dwell on it," Rade said to Nerris's silence. He saw Nerris all the way to his tent. "Get some sleep, Commander. I won't see you until Gelnicka. Don't worry, me and my men will give you plenty of time to reach the battleground." He disappeared with a cocky smirk and a wave.

Despite what he said, Nerris did dwell on it. He undressed and settled back into his bedroll, his mind recoiling in horror every time he saw that man's chest explode in his mind's eye. But he was also overcome with feelings of peace and serenity when he thought of whatever had driven off those mad cultists. He dwelled on that instead, and drifted off with a smile on his face. This time, he rested well.

# Chapter Six

FALARES LED THE way through the North Gate, his plaited hair swaying as he slowed his destrier to a trot. Qabala followed, dressed in gleaming plate and a visored helm, surrounded by a dozen of her best sabres. Her wagon trailed behind, with all her possessions contained within: weapons, armor, treasure, and Meeka.

Throughout the city of Palehorse, fires raged and women screamed as the men of the Horde took their pleasure. As they rode deeper, they came upon one such incident. A homely maid, her skirt hiked up around her waist, was being taken like a dog by one of Qabala's militiamen. He was so intent on his pleasure he did not even notice their party. The maid looked up to them, and reached toward Qabala as if begging for relief.

Falares kicked the man in the chest and sent him sprawling. "Away with you! Make way for Queen Qabala Aeterna!"

The militiaman made a brief bow and caught his sobbing prize by the hair, dragging her farther up an adjoining road. Qabala watched them go, her lip curled in disdain. What right did a weak woman like that have to implore to her? She was much the same once, but had found the strength to rise above being a mere victim. The strong always rose.

Palehorse had greeted them with defiance at their appearance, two days past. The Qabalan Horde arrived to find the gates closed, and the United Guard and the City Watch posted along the walls. Little had they known the rats were already inside the walls.

Qabala surrounded the city and engaged in a feint against the south gate. As the undermanned forces of the late King Lahnen rushed to meet her assault, she sent up a smoke signal. Her people inside the city had responded in kind, creating a riot that drew the attention of the City Watch, while a force led by Lukas Kord stormed the North Gate, slaughtering all the sentries. He opened the way for Qabala's men, who rushed into the city and took it from the inside, with casualties being too incidental to mention. The United Guard, however, had been eradicated.

Falares and her sabres cleared a path as they made their way to the city's west end, where the Aeternica loomed over all the surrounding buildings. She passed a city square, where the remainder of the United Guard kneeled under the presence of her own soldiers. With their hands behind their heads, they awaited her judgment.

The main gate of the Aeternica stood wide open by the time her procession approached. Several men kneeled before her, the leader's long silver hair hanging out from his blood-spattered half-helm. At a command from Falares, they rose. Qabala lifted the visor on her own helm to look upon them better.

The leader removed his half-helm, revealing an older man with crow's feet encircling his pale, blue eyes. He met her gaze and he grinned. "My Eternal, Palehorse and the Aeternica are now yours."

"Lukas Kord, you have done my people great favor," Qabala said, "first with your information and assistance in the demise of Lahnen the Corrupt, and now for opening the gates of the capital, both of which have given us great victory while minimizing our losses. What would you have of me?"

The former watchman saluted and bowed his head. "My Eternal, when your coronation has come, I would be named a Dume-General, to forever protect your divine person and mete out swift death to your enemies, and to lend my wisdom to your decisions concerning the welfare of Yagolhan henceforth."

"Then you shall have it," Qabala said.

Lukas kneeled. "I thank you, my Eternal. Allow me to present this gift."

He gestured, and one of his men came forward and emptied a sack at her horse's feet. Her horse shied away a bit as a number of heads tumbled onto the cobblestones, some indiscernible through the coagulated blood.

"Once your signal went up, my people inside the castle acted swiftly," Lukas said. "The prime minister and his loyal councilors also welcome you to our fair city."

Qabala sniffed at the acrid stenches pervading the air, and glanced back at the smoke. "Hardly fair at the moment, your Constancy," she said, using the formal mode of address for one who held the position of Dume. "If the castle is secure, I wish to be conveyed to my new chambers so I may make myself more presentable. There are battles yet to fight, and I must ensure the city is firmly in hand before that time."

"Of course." Lukas Kord led her procession through the gates of the Aeternica. Her own soldiers were already inside, and stood at attention as she passed through the bailey.

Qabala dismounted at the steps of the main keep. "Have those heads spiked and set on the ramparts," she told Falares. "Then see that my things are brought to the royal chambers."

Lukas and a tail of sabres escorted her to the great hall, where the throne sat empty upon a red-carpeted dais. "Shall you take your rightful place?" he offered.

"Not yet," Qabala said. "I merely wish to gaze upon the thing I have fought for, for so long. When I hold godstone in hand and have my love Nerris by my side, only then will I sit the throne."

"I heard tell Nerris Palada was the man sent to end King Lahnen's life, and even now leads your forces against his son," Lukas said.

"You heard true," Qabala said. "When he brings me the head of the last of the Y'Ghans, he will remain with me as my consort and Dume-General."

"It will be an honor to serve with such a man," Lukas said. "I am most eager to meet one of the Thrillseekers."

Would Nerris consent? Not for the first time, she wondered what she truly meant to him. She sensed, even while they were making love, that he held something back. But she needed Nerris. Because she loved him, yes, for the legitimacy his name would bring to her regime, certainly. But also for her task to come. No matter what, she must make him hers.

That night, Qabala lay in bed, dressed only in a linen shift. Sleeping in the same room where Nerris had killed King Lahnen gave her a perverse kind of pleasure. The Y'Ghan family sigil painted on the doors to her chambers had been blotted out. There would be time enough to have her own sigil added, but it would have to wait until later. She glanced through reports from her men and new officials, asking her for appointments which would be necessary to return the occupied city to a state of normalcy. Meeka's petite form stirred beside her, naked under the down-filled coverlets.

There was much to do before she set out to spring the trap she had devised for Prince Lahnel. The men had been given their leave to pillage and rape this day, reward for a well-fought campaign, but on the morrow they must be put back on their leashes. She was not Lahnen the Corrupt, to grant her friends the highest favor and forget the plight of the rest of the people. She had shown them her ire when crossed; now it was time to extend her hand and help them to their feet again.

The door opened and Falares entered, stopping to salute. Qabala sighed. The man still had not learned to knock. "My Eternal, Meznas is without and begs leave to attend you straightaway. He says he has information about the movements of Prince Lahnel and Dume Rhonor."

"Send him in." Qabala prodded Meeka until she awakened. "Leave us."

Meeka yawned and nodded. "Yes, my Eternal." She slipped from the bed and pulled on a robe.

Qabala caught Falares staring at the girl, but his gaze immediately snapped back to hers. "Down with you, cur," she said. "Haven't you had your fill this day? That one belongs to me."

Falares bowed. "Of course."

He followed Meeka from the chamber and Qabala put on a dark robe, belting it at the waist. She brushed her hair back into place at the mirror and left the bedroom, heading for the sitting room at the end of the hall. Falares was already there when she entered, along with Meznas.

Meznas was a menista, which was what the cultists called their priests. He was a tall, bearded man who had come to pay her homage after Nerris departed for Gelnicka. _"Come into your power and my children will surely find you,"_ she remembered the Pale One telling her all those years ago. They finally had. Meznas had spent his adult life unifying the various sects of religious bands known collectively as the Cult of Eversor.

The cult had once been a powerful force during the years of Yahd the Conqueror's war, but suffered major casualties in the fighting. Afterward, those who remained had fallen into disarray. King Lahnen turned them out from Palehorse once he ascended the throne, and a lack of strong leadership led to their deterioration. They had splintered into separate sects and wandered the backwoods of northern Yagolhan, their obscure religion outlawed by the crown. They had scarce been heard of since.

Until Meznas united them into a formidable unit, that is. Their doctrine was hateful, their practices reviled, but that did not stop Meznas from becoming the Grand Menista. The cultists were not soldiers, and not as influential as they once had been, but his people were proving valuable for rooting out information on her enemies.

"My Eternal," he said, "I bring news."

"Is it the battle?" Qabala asked. "Has Prince Lahnel pushed through Nerris's forces? Or has Dume Rhonor begun his march?"

Meznas shook his head. "Neither, I'm afraid. My people caught one of his spies west of here. Lahnel has played you false. He sends Lord Bosmick to distract you and disguise his true intent. Not five days past, Lahnel boarded a ship in Hesmuth. We believe he is bound for Lesta. He does not intend to meet you in the open field right away."

Qabala sat down on a cushioned divan. "Then Nerris—"

"Is walking into a trap," Meznas said. "Gelnicka is swarming with loyalists and remnants of the United Guard who fled south from your battles in the northern moors and Ryvetsk. Petaka Bosmick plans to lure your forces into the village and spring his trap while Lahnel consolidates his hold on southeast Yagolhan and raises a new host. By spring, you will have two strong enemies on either side of you."

"We must send relief to Nerris's regiment at once."

Meznas shook his head. "My Eternal, a force that size will never make it in time. I implore you, let me send word to my people. A lone rider can reach them in two days if he rides hard. We are not soldiers, but we can fight if need be, and are well versed in blood magic. And we are close."

Qabala slammed her fist into the cushions. "Very well. And Nerris wished to spare these people. But that time has passed. Send your people, Meznas. Raze Gelnicka to the ground and let it stand as a monument for those who would deceive me."

"At once." Meznas bowed.

"How have you found out this plan?"

"A man was caught spying on Commander Palada's forces," Meznas said. "He has been sacrificed to the Tattered Man. He gave us knowledge of Prince Lahnel's absence. A second man, a woodwitch, was caught not far from here, and he informed us on Lahnel's new strategy. He claims to be an old friend of the family."

"Have him brought to the great hall," Qabala said to Falares. "I would speak with this woodwitch."

Falares left to find the man, and Meznas followed Qabala and her guards to the great hall. Qabala had known a woodwitch once. Earth Clerics, they liked to call themselves. They worked magic through the earth itself and everything which grew from it. The one she remembered had been a drunken sot of a man. The people in the village of Verchak worshipped him as if he spoke for Yala. But the woodwitches prayed to one of the spirits of nature, some deity named Ghom... or was it Gobe, maybe? She couldn't remember.

When her foster father began to take her into his bed, she had appealed to the woodwitch for help, hoping his influence over the village would force them to put an end to it. But the man had called her a harlot, blaming her for her father's sickness. He never took his eyes from her after that, and she couldn't figure out why.

Until the night he visited her house. The woodwitch had won a sizable bet of some kind, and gave the money to her father. Her father was too jealous a man to let him have her all to himself, so he told the woodwitch they would take her together. That was the night everything changed for her. That night, she killed for the first time.

She stood at the foot of the dais in the great hall as her guards dragged in the Earth Cleric. He was balding, with short, brown hair, and his brown robe hung from his chubby torso in tatters. Falares flung him down at her feet and he stared up at her, spitting blood from his mouth. Bruises and swelling marred his countenance, one eye involuntarily shut from the blows.

"What is your name, woodwitch?" she asked.

"Surnal," the man said.

Qabala smiled. "Ah, the great Surnal Listan. Prince Lahnel's spiritual advisor. Had he not forsaken Yala, the goddess of his ancestors, his war might be going better at the moment, wouldn't you say?"

"Many say it was Yala who led this nation to ruin decades ago," Surnal replied. "Prince Lahnel follows his heart. And it seems he has fooled you. Soon, Lord Bosmick will deal your forces a considerable blow, and come spring Yagolhan will be free from your pretensions."

"How do I know that everything you told Meznas is true? Is this another deception?"

"I've told it true," Surnal said bitterly. "I've betrayed my rightful king to his enemies. Would that I had perished under the question."

"We beat, burned, whipped, and tortured him," Meznas said. "No man would have held out that long for a deception."

"And what of you, Meznas?" Surnal asked. "No man would treat another as you have me. What does that make you now, follower of Eversor? How many have you sacrificed to the Tattered Man? What will be your reward when the world comes unhinged?"

Meznas ignored him. "This man has been trying to gather his woodwitch friends to fight my people, my Eternal. I beg you, give me leave to make an example of him."

"We will make an example of all woodwitches," Qabala said, remembering the man from Verchak. "But this one will stay under guard in the dungeons for now. I don't blame him for trying to fight you, Meznas. Your people have given the Yagols much reason to hate you over the years. Still, it was the Cult of Eversor who came to my aid and not the woodwitches."

Surnal met her eyes, torchlight gleaming off his balding brow. "So you would unloose these abominations on our kingdom, Qabala?"

Falares kicked him in the ribs and he fell down wheezing. "You will address her as 'my Eternal' or 'Queen Qabala Aeterna.' "

Surnal cackled from his prone position. "She is no Aeterna. She has no godstone."

"No, but I know where to find one." Qabala leaned toward him. "It is no longer your kingdom, woodwitch. It is _my_ kingdom. You will rot in the dungeons until you see every one of your brethren fall beneath the knife. Then I will give you to Meznas." She made a gesture to Falares. "Take him away."

Falares barked orders and two guards dragged Surnal from the great hall. Qabala turned to Meznas. "Send three riders to your people. Tell them to send every able-bodied man to help Commander Nerris and Colonel Quin. And if you should fail to return my Nerris to me, not even your Tattered Man will protect you. Rest assured of that."

Meznas bowed, shaking a bit. "Never fear, my Eternal." He strode from the room.

Qabala glanced again at the throne. Such a squat and ugly chair. She would have it fashioned anew once she wore her crown, something grand and befitting the new age she meant to usher in. A unified Cult of Eversor was dangerous, however, and had no place in her vision; once Yagolhan was unified, she meant to stamp it out for all and good. But in the meantime she would use them for as long as was convenient.

# Chapter Seven

THE DAY DAWNED clear and chilly, and Nerris broke his fast with rabbit left over from the previous night's supper. It did little to calm his anxiety. A force which exceeded his own by a wide margin lay on the other side of the field, protecting the village of Gelnicka.

Nerris donned his commander's sash and helm, mounted his warhorse, and spurred the beast forward. Chalis rode as his escort, carrying the banner of Queen Qabala for all to see. His men had formed ranks at the fringe of the field to the east of the village, right at the tree line. Lord Petaka Bosmick's men stood strong at the other end.

As Nerris and Chalis rode out to parlay, two riders broke off from the opposition's middle. Lord Petaka Bosmick was a heavyset man with a red face, whose hauberk looked ill-fitting on his large frame. His escort carried his wolf's head banner.

Lord Bosmick stopped mid-field, and Nerris reined in his mount. "You must be Nerris Palada," the Lord said.

"Aye," Nerris responded, "and I was led to believe Prince Lahnel commanded this force. Does he fear to come out and meet me?"

Lord Bosmick grunted. "The Prince fears no man, not even a Thrillseeker. He does not deign to reveal himself yet. But what of you, Nerris? I always heard the Thrillseekers were honorable men, yet here you are, fighting for a usurper."

"It's all in where you stand," Nerris said. "There are those who call Lady Qabala a liberator. Most of the kingdom, in fact. Just as my people called your Yahd an enslaver."

"I suppose it is, at that," Lord Bosmick said. "Nevertheless, I implore you to return to your Lady Qabala and tell her to seek reason. What she aims to do should not be attempted again by mortal man or woman."

"And what is that?"

"Become Aeterna," Lord Bosmick said. "My father served an Aeternus once. All it got him was a shallow grave somewhere in western Faerna. And we all know what became of poor Yahd. Slain at the Battle of Culpepper Ridge by your king."

"Be that as it may, I have a duty to my employer," Nerris said.

"Employer? Is it money you desire? Then come fight for Prince Lahnel. A Thrillseeker on our side would lend great honor to our cause."

Nerris shook his head. "Your prince has nothing I want."

Lord Bosmick gave a hearty laugh. "I see the way of it. Prince Lahnel can't warm your bed nightly. What do you think will happen, Nerris? I have double your numbers. Will Qabala mourn you if only your head returns to her? Or will she climb into the bed of the next likely lad who comes along?"

Nerris froze him with a gaze sharp as steel. "I implore _you_ , Lord Bosmick," he said deliberately. "Quit this field and pledge your army to Lady Qabala if you wish to live. I promise you, you'll get no mercy otherwise."

Lord Bosmick spat on the ground. "There's for your mercy. Dume Araka was my eldest sister, did you know? Before she gave up her heritage to serve on the Aeternal Council, she was a proud Bosmick. That'll do for Qabala and her false Aeternal Council, whichever poor souls she deems worthy."

"To battle, then," Nerris said. "Enough words have been wasted already."

"In that we are in agreement. To battle." Lord Bosmick wheeled his horse around and galloped back to his infantry line, his bannerman following.

Back at his front line, Nerris summoned Mikaren. "Get word to Rade, and tell him to wait until Bosmick's soldiers begin the rout before he reveals himself." Mikaren saluted and rode away. Rade had come to him the night before to bring him news of his endeavors. The old man had harried the enemy troops as much as he could, but Lord Bosmick made sure to march his lines across open ground whenever possible, speeding up to a forced march whenever passing through an area at risk. Still, after smashing the wheels on his supply wagons, he had managed to delay them long enough so he had no choice but to meet Nerris at Gelnicka.

He wished he had not sent Rade to lead his... well, raids. He missed the old man's counsel and his cheerful, carefree outlook on life. They were welcome distractions to the carnage and mayhem surrounding Qabala's campaign. And ever since that night above the glade... Nerris had burned with curiosity about the cultists and that which drove them off, and Rade seemed to know something about what had happened. He wished to question him further. First, he knew details about Nerris's heritage not many knew, and then that business with the cultists. The graybeard was no retired trapper from northwest Yagolhan, as he had claimed.

Mikaren returned after a short while, and Nerris gave the command to his archers. They loosed a few volleys at Lord Bosmick's troops. Only a few penetrated the shields on the front line. The answering volleys they got in return were much more effective, cutting down Nerris's lightly armored men.

"Sound the charge," Nerris told Mikaren. Mikaren blew his war horn, and the infantry troops marched forward, breaking into a jog. Horns blew from the other side as well, as Lord Bosmick's seasoned soldiers marched out to meet them.

It happened fast. Jogging became running, and mighty roars from both sides swelled throughout the field. Mikaren blew his horn again and Colonel Quin led his sabres out at a dead run. The infantry smashed into each other and the air became inebriated with the clash of steel and shouts of anguish.

Nerris waited for another horn blow from the other side, but it didn't come. Quin's sabres smashed into the enemy infantry, and soon enough they broke and ran. Nerris called for another blow, and sent a second unit of infantry and cavalry to the skirmish. He would have been with him, but for Qabala's strict orders that he not endanger himself. He was just as glad to stay with the rear guard; pitched battles had always made him nervous. Too many chaotic elements for his liking.

Finally, the sound of the enemy's war horn echoed through the field. But he did not send any cavalry to relieve his men, but another infantry unit. Archers ran to the front line as well, catching Nerris's eye. He saw the glint of flame as the archers nocked their bows, and his eyes grew wide.

"Call the men back!" he said to Mikaren too late. The archers loosed, and their fire arrows sailed over the skirmish and into the brush in front of his relief column.

The dead autumn grass went up at once with a dull whoosh. Some of the charging men were too close to the flames and ran right into it. Burning screams of agony joined the choir of voices in the air, as his men ground to a halt.

His first infantry unit broke under the numbers of the enemy, and retreated toward the trees. Unfortunately, they had nowhere to go, as a wall of flame prevented them from falling back. That wall served as an anvil for Lord Bosmick's forces to hammer his infantry against.

"Call Quin back," Nerris hissed to Mikaren. "They set a trap!"

Mikaren blew twice, and Quin's forces wheeled around, only to have the field itself rise in defiance. A force of soldiers and villagers, hidden in the tall grass, revealed themselves while brandishing long spears. They went to work on the horses of the sabres, forcing their riders to fall to the earth. More men at the edge of the field revealed themselves and charged into the infantry.

"We ride," Nerris said. "Sound the charge!"

"But Commander, we must retreat," Dolias said. "If we commit our forces, Lord Bosmick can circle around us and—"

"I won't leave our men out there to be burned alive," Nerris said. "If Rade joins the battle, we can still win our way free."

Mikaren sounded the charge, and Nerris spurred his mount forward. The rest of his contingent followed behind, roaring in rage at the flames and the men slaughtering their comrades. They closed the distance fast, and Nerris met the first spearman with deadly force, cutting his shaft in two with Noruken and slashing through his face with a second stroke. Other men charged him, but Nerris cut a path through. He hoped Rade would see what was happening and not wait for the signal. With horsemen hidden on both sides of the field, he could take the spearmen in the rear and relieve them.

Mikaren, Chalis, and Dolias fought ferociously at his side. Chalis cut down two men threatening Nerris's flank while Dolias dueled with a soldier holding a spear. Mikaren sheared straight through the collarbone of another man with his saber, and launched a stiletto at a villager sneaking up on Colonel Quin's horse. The small blade bit through the man's hauberk and he fell with a surprised grunt. The spearman managed to knock the helm from Dolias's head, but it threw him off balance and the spear fell from his fingers. The Agossean wasted no time in running him through with his longsword.

Nerris turned his head in time to see a soldier heft his spear and launch it at his side. At the last moment, Nerris pulled sharply on the reins, forcing his mount to turn. Instead of taking him in the ribs, the spear took his horse in the throat. The animal gave a terrible scream and fell to the ground. Nerris managed to launch himself off and roll when he hit the grass, coming up unscathed.

The soldier drew his blade and came at Nerris, swinging in a downward arc. He gripped his katana with both hands and brought the blade up to meet the wild swing. He turned the man's blade with one quick stroke, and the loyalist fell to the ground, his throat sliced open. Poetic justice for his poor mount, Nerris reasoned.

He heard many hooves galloping across the ground, and glanced around, hopeful. However, it was not Rade's men coming to their aid, but Lord Bosmick's cavalry, who had circled around the flames to cut them off at the sides. Along with their hidden spearmen, they closed ranks on Nerris's men, hacking and slashing at any infantry they came across.

Mikaren came up behind him, now also on foot. He dispatched another soldier with his saber and turned to face away from Nerris. "They got my horse too. I'll watch your back, Commander."

Nerris nodded, and they fought back to back. Between skirmishes, Nerris witnessed several men pull Dolias from his horse and cave his skull in with a blow from a mace. Elsewhere, Colonel Quin attempted to reform his cavalry units to break through the closing enemy ranks. Nerris knew the battle was lost; even if they reformed behind Lord Bosmick's force as planned, he had lost half his men, maybe more. He would be of little use to Qabala when she came west, if he still lived.

The wind picked up faster than he could react, blowing the detestable stench of smoke and blood and bowels from his nostrils. In fact, the wind picked up so violently it blew straight down the flame wall, pushing the flames to either side and opening up a path.

Nerris turned his head as fresh battle cries and the thunder of hooves filled his ears. From either side, Rade's sabres rode out of the trees and they weren't alone. Thousands of men in black cloaks were at his back, many wielding clubs, mauls, or serrated blades. Nerris recognized the robes, as well as the patterns embroidered on the rims. He had seen them before, days back, in that glade deep in Yahd's Walk. But what business did cultists have here? He forgot the battle for a moment as his blood boiled. How dare those murderers show their faces here?

Rade's riders took their assailants off guard. Many now ran, but could not get far with horses thundering after them. Just like that, they were in the clear and Colonel Quin gestured toward the open path through the flames with his saber. Now filled with hope, the men followed him through and toward the remainder of Lord Bosmick's forces.

"No, we must fall back!" Nerris called out. "Sound the retreat!"

Colonel Quin didn't hear him, and the men rushed to engage the enemy, this time augmented by Rade's forces and the black-robed cultists. Nerris wheeled around to ask Mikaren why he hadn't blown the retreat. The black-haired tracker lay on the ground, a spear in his belly. He was immobile, but for the blood gushing from his side, and his good eye staring lifelessly at the sky.

Nerris's shoulders slumped. The first rule for a mercenary was to not get attached to your comrades, but Nerris had liked the gruff, dependable forester. He hadn't even heard him cry out.

"Commander!" Rade rode up to him and reined in his horse. "Thank Yala you're all right."

"What's going on?" Nerris asked.

"Those cultists showed up shortly after the battle began. Thousands of them. Don't know where they even came from. Their leader said they were sent by Qabala, that Petaka Bosmick laid a trap for us and that Prince Lahnel isn't here, and has already taken a ship for Lesta."

"Qabala sent them?" Nerris asked. "But she has no dealings with such people." Even as he said it, he remembered lying in her tent and catching a glimpse of black mist. The same black mist he had seen that night in the glade.

Rade shrugged. "I'm in the dark, same as you. But we needed the help. They were slaughtering you out here."

Nerris swore. "I told Qabala I was no commander, or I would have seen..." He stopped short as cheers welled up in the distance. He glanced at the village of Gelnicka. Many of the homes were on fire, and he could no longer see the enemy or his own men. "What—"

"Fighting in the village," Rade said. "We must have routed them somehow."

With cold fury, Nerris sheathed his blade. He found a black destrier, made riderless by the battle, and climbed into the saddle. He snapped the reins and the beast took off in the direction of Gelnicka, despite Rade's calls to wait. He recognized the smell as his horse leapt over the dwindling flame wall. They had soaked the ground in oil. No wonder the brush had caught with such haste.

It was a short ride to Gelnicka at a gallop, but upon arriving in the town square, Nerris reined in the big warhorse. Everywhere he looked, chaos and carnage reigned. Soldier and villager alike littered the street, dead eyes staring up at him. Several cultists held down a man while another ripped open his chest with one of their serrated blades, all the while chanting in their foul language. Smoke and flame permeated the air, and framed the whole bloody picture.

Nerris wanted to weep, to rage, to tell them to stop, but he was only one man. His own soldiers were part of the frenzy, looting and pillaging alongside the cultists' sacrifices, as well as committing other atrocities.

Nerris dismounted and drew his blade at the sound of a woman screaming from down the street. A girl, no more than an adolescent, lay on the dirt while one of his men kneeled between her legs pumping in and out of her with frantic urgency. He recognized Cheld, the man who had helped Chalis pick off those archers a few days past.

Nerris set his blade against the man's throat. "Get off her."

Cheld stopped mid-thrust and climbed off the woman, pulling his up his breeches. The girl stumbled to her feet and fled behind one of the homes untouched by the flames. Cheld gave Nerris a confused look. "Commander?"

"Who gave you leave to do this?" Nerris asked.

"I don't know what you're saying, Commander. No one gave us leave. They tried to burn us to death. We're giving them's that died justice."

"And the girl?"

"Commander, please," Cheld said.

Shouts of alarm rang out as Nerris turned his head, coming face to face with several cultists. "He fights against us!" one man yelled from behind a white metal mask.

"Wait," Cheld told them. "This is Commander Nerris. Commander, please lower your blade. No one else cares about that girl. She's nothing, one of _them_ —"

With one swipe from Noruken, Cheld's head left his body and splattered against the earth. The cultists shouted in surprise and brandished their weapons.

"Offer his blood to the Tattered Man. Make him a sacrifice! Let him meet our savior!"

One of the men stepped up to Nerris. "You will die!"

"After you," Nerris said, proceeding to cut straight through the three men with deadly precision. The masked man was the last to fall. Nerris's blade slashed through the mask and sheared off half the man's face.

As the last body fell, more men converged on him, his own men. They wailed on about him attacking true Yagols, and four of them pounced at once. Nerris railed against them and managed to get in one cut, which took a man's arm from his body. Then something smashed into his helm, and Nerris's head swam. Everything grew blurry as the other men grabbed at his arms, forcing Noruken from his grip.

Some shouted for him to be sacrificed to something called Eversor, while others favored taking him before Colonel Quin. A few even shouted for him to be freed. Nerris never knew what they decided. He collapsed to the ground as his mind descended into blackness.

# Chapter Eight

NERRIS RUBBED AT his head as he rode. He had been hit with the flat of a wood ax, but luckily his helm had stopped him from a braining. Unfortunately, it had driven the inside of his helm straight into his skull, and the pain lingered.

All around him, the men rode in silence. According to Chalis, after Nerris had been felled by the cultists, Rade had shown up in Gelnicka to identify him as the commander. He and Colonel Quin had patched him up for the march to Palehorse. Their original strategy was out the window now. The bulk of Lord Bosmick's men had run when they saw a militant force of cultists coming at them, and those who did not were slaughtered. Lord Petaka Bosmick himself had been taken prisoner, which would keep his son from mounting any kind of retaliation for the time being. And even if that was not the case, three thousand of Nerris's troops remained, most of them belonged to the cavalry he had placed under Rade's command. Their victory had cost him over half his men. They were of no more use here.

The men stepped around him carefully after Gelnicka. Nerris was furious at their behavior, and he had berated Quin publicly for being unable to control them. The hardened soldier gave him a wide berth after that. Nerris didn't care; he had looked upon what remained of Gelnicka after the battle. Not a single house was left habitable. Every one of them had burned to cinders, or stood as charred remains. All the villagers had been sacrificed to whatever foul deity the cultists worshipped, and he had been helpless to stop it.

It was his own fault. The wanton slaughter, the fire, the rape, all of it brought back memories he had tried very hard to abandon. He had been correct in his assessment about himself to Qabala. He had no business commanding a battle. He realized soldiers did these things, and had always been able to detach himself from it. However, it was different when he was the one responsible. He had lost his head, and was lucky he hadn't lost it for true.

Rade rode up beside Nerris and Chalis, and reined in. "I finally got some news," he said. "Lady Qabala has taken Palehorse. Even now, she sits in the Aeternica, waiting for us to arrive. She wishes you to be present at her coronation. She has let it be known that when she is Aeterna in true, she will immediately name you Dume-General."

"Where did you hear that?" Nerris asked.

"From one of the cultists, a messenger sent by their leader," Rade said gravely. "A man named Meznas. He sits by Qabala's side in the Aeternica even now."

"I was under the impression this cult was just an occasional roving band."

"That was the case, until a few years ago," Rade said. "This Meznas has united them all, it would seem."

"And Qabala has found a godstone, then?"

"No," Rade said, "but she seems confident on where to find one."

Nerris shook his head, bringing on new stabs of pain. "She becomes the monster more every day. I was foolish to think I could influence such a woman. Maybe if I had met her sooner—"

"Don't give up on her," Rade said, "I beg you. She needs you, Nerris. If you will not help her, then I will have to."

"Rade, you saw what she was willing to unleash on her own people," Nerris said. "I've talked to her, ridden with her, shared her bed. She doesn't plan to stop here. Once she smashes Prince Lahnel, she'll turn her eyes on the rest of Tormalia."

Rade cast his eyes downward and sighed. "Nevertheless, I will stand by her side for as long as she will have me."

"Why?"

Rade swallowed hard, and pulled back on his reins. His mount squealed in protest, but Nerris's column soon left him behind. He could have commanded him back, but Nerris knew better than to try and get a straight answer out of Rade at this point. He glanced over at Chalis, who had been watching the conversation. Ever since Gelnicka, he had appeared ashen-faced, his eyes bloodshot and watery as if he might weep at any moment.

"Is something wrong, Chalis?"

"It's just that... I don't know where it went wrong." The youth's exuberance was gone now, replaced with a chill tone. "I've been in battles before. But never have I witnessed such wanton carnage. I saw a man I know... sweetest disposition you'll find of any soldier... I saw him raping a girl young enough to be his daughter. And me... I was so angry at the villagers for getting involved in the battle. I rode down anyone in my path... young or old... and cut them down."

Nerris put a hand on his shoulder. "You were caught up in the bloodlust. Maybe it was my fault. I'm just not a good enough commander."

Chalis shook his head. "No. It was the cult. The men never touched a single home or person until they instigated an attack. Why would Lady Qabala send such men?"

Nerris shrugged. "We needed help, and they were close. Though I wonder. It does seem a bit convenient."

"Nerris, I think Rade is right," Chalis said. "Please, stay with us. Qabala needs you. If you leave her with the likes of Falares and Meznas hovering around her, you doom us all."

One thing Nerris was glad for was the fact that they no longer needed to march through Yahd's Walk. Instead, they turned southeast toward Palehorse. With the wounded to care for, it took them three days longer than it would have otherwise. At least the cultists had drifted away from their force. In groups, they gradually filtered out of their midst and back under whatever rocks they crawled out from. Even if they had not just perpetrated a horror on innocents and those simply trying to defend their village, their presence was making the men anxious. Most of them did not know whether to thank the cultists, run away, or run them through.

Finally, the scouts came back to report they had seen the Blue River, with Palehorse standing tall on the opposite side. Nerris hadn't been sure what to expect when he set his own eyes on the city, with Qabala's banner flying high over the Aeternica. He half expected to see half of it burnt down or smoking, but it did not look to be in too much disrepair.

Palehorse was a fairly new city, in a manner of speaking. Back in the days of the Aristian Empire, it had stood as the capital, a true wonder of the world. A great war with the barbarian tribes of the east had seen the city destroyed, which marked the end of the empire. The ruins sat on the edge of the Blue until three hundred years ago, during one of Yagolhan's civil wars. When the south of the country split off to form its own kingdom, Palehorse had been rebuilt as its capital, which was why its name was in Tormalian. All of the kingdom's older cities had their origin in Old Yagol. Palehorse had reigned as capital ever since, even after Yahd the Enslaver reunited North and South Yagolhan over forty years ago.

An honor guard emerged from the North Gate to meet them about a league from the city. The leader removed his helm to expose long, silver hair and inclined his head to Nerris. "Commander Nerris Palada, I am Lukas Kord, formerly Second Watchman of Palehorse. It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

Nerris extended him the same courtesy. "Master Kord."

"Our Eternal will be most pleased to see you," Lukas said. "When we learned of Lord Bosmick's trap, we feared the worst."

"Save your sympathies for the victims at Gelnicka," Nerris said. "I would speak with Lady Qabala about the conduct of her new allies."

"Of course," Lukas said. "Queen Qabala Aeterna gave orders for you to be conveyed to her presence as soon as possible. Your men will be given quarter in the city barracks."

Nerris issued some brief orders to Colonel Quin to make sure the men got settled in, and split off from the main force. However, Master Kord did not take him to the Aeternica, but to a place called Harpek Square toward the middle of the city. When they arrived, Nerris could not quite believe his own eyes.

The citizens of Palehorse were lined up, each receiving food in turn from Qabala's sabres. The soon-to-be Queen herself stood in the middle of the gathering, radiant in a teal gown with a huge smile spread across her face. She handed some bread to a small child, enveloping him in a hug as she gave it to him and murmuring comforts into his ear. Falares stood behind her with the next recipient's bread. His frown clearly stated he had no wish to be present.

Lukas smiled at his expression, which must have been quite shocked. "Inspiring, isn't it? You should have been here this morning, when she hanged the instigators behind the looting and raping when we took the city. Never has a crowd's cheering sounded so sweet."

Nerris fixed him with a glare. "You were our informant, were you not, Master Kord? Word has it the city fell with you in charge of your own mob. How is it you didn't hang?"

Without another word to Lukas's falling grin, he dismounted and approached Qabala. Seeing her like this gave him hope the woman underneath would one day see past the privileges of power and remember her duty to her people. Her smile infected every person who accepted food, and they left with similar expressions. Emotion welled up inside of him. He had missed Qabala during his campaign, but he did not realize how much until laying eyes on her beautiful face again.

Qabala saw him, and her smile grew even wider. She gave the loaf in her hands to Falares and approached Nerris. He restrained himself from embracing her. Proprieties would need to be observed, and by the way Qabala moved, he suspected she was thinking the same thing.

"Commander," she said in a neutral tone, "I congratulate you on your successful rout and the capture of Lord Petaka Aramos Bosmick."

"Thank you, my lady," Nerris said. "It does me good to see you once again."

"Then let us adjourn to somewhere more private, and you can brief me on the details of your success." She called for Falares to bring her mount, and the big man frowned even harder when he saw Nerris.

They exchanged pleasantries as they rode through the city, children running alongside their horses. Qabala waved to them and they ran off, giggling to one another. The gates of the Aeternica stood open, and Nerris entered the red-brick castle with far less effort than the last time he had been here. They dismounted in the bailey, and Master Kord and his men accompanied them to the royal keep. The stone stairs and hallways were familiar to Nerris, though they looked more colorful in broad daylight.

Two guards opened the door to the same bedchamber where King Lahnen had died. The furniture had been rearranged, and the bed replaced entirely by a massive four-poster with white curtains. When the door shut, Qabala leapt into Nerris's arms and planted a quick succession of kisses on his lips.

"I've never been so frightened," she told him. "I'm glad Meznas's people reached you in time. I hear you tried to relieve Colonel Quin during the battle yourself. What madness possessed you?"

"He needed me," Nerris said. "Would you have me leave all my men to die?"

"Yes," Qabala said. "You should have spurred your horse east and not stopped until you were here in my arms."

"Qabala, you're being irrational."

Qabala disengaged herself from his arms. "I know you think me cruel and sadistic at times. But flowery little girls don't win wars, Nerris."

"Then what was that business out in the square?" he asked.

"My people have suffered so much on my behalf," she said. "I'm fully aware that this war is crushing many of the lives I mean to save. I need to show them that things will be different when I am the Aeterna. That they need not fear, for I will always have food to nourish them and a sword to defend them. When the day comes where Prince Lahnel and I do battle, I would have them at my side and not at my back."

"And the men you hanged?"

"Scapegoats," she admitted. "There is no way possible to know the full extent of those who commit crimes when a city is sacked. But the people needed to see I will not permit those kinds of acts."

"Yet you unleashed your pet cultists against a helpless village," Nerris said.

"To save you," Qabala countered. "Don't you see, Nerris? Their Tattered Man has named me the Aeterna, at least in their minds. They will fight to the death for me. In the coming battles, I will put them right on the front line. By war's end, no one will remember there ever was a Cult of Eversor. I'll remove two dangers to my people with a single stroke."

"True men will not fight with them," Nerris said. "They fear them. My men only tolerated them because of the help they provided. Even then, all the carnage... they brought it on. Their fervor affected my men, made them do horrible things. They even attacked me." Absently, he felt the back of his head.

Qabala's hand followed his, and she stroked the great knot in his scalp. "Oh, my poor Nerris. I swear to you, those who did this will be found and burned—"

"No," Nerris said. "Don't you understand, Qabala? The brutality has to stop somewhere."

Qabala kissed him on the cheek. "I wish it could, my love. I've never had such a wonderful feeling as today, seeing the grateful eyes of my people and hearing their laughter. But I am a ruler of a broken country. There are battles yet to be fought."

"And after that?" Nerris asked. "Does it end there?"

Before Qabala could answer, a knock sounded at the door, and a sentry spoke. "A man named Rade is here to see you, my Eternal, as well as Commander Nerris. He is in the sitting room."

"Rade?" Qabala asked.

"He was with me when I assassinated King Lahnen," Nerris reminded her. "You rewarded him with lands."

"Ah, yes."

They went down the hall to the solar, where Rade sat on a divan. He stood and bowed to Qabala as they entered the room. "My Eternal," he said.

"At ease," she said. "Why do you wish to see me, Lord Rade? Nerris was about to... brief me."

"To be sure, nothing is brief where the both of you are concerned," Rade said with a twinkle in his eye, "but this can't wait. I understand as soon as we arrived you wished to coronate yourself as queen and dip your head in the Aristian Flames."

"Flames?" Nerris asked.

"It's how one is consecrated Aeterna," Qabala said.

"But first you need a godstone," Rade said. "Have you found one, by any chance?"

"No." Qabala looked away. "I was led to believe there was one here in the crypts of the Aeternica, hidden in the tomb of Yahd himself. But we found nothing. I will have to seek a godstone elsewhere."

Rade's eyes twinkled again. "Perhaps not, my Eternal. Yahd held a shard of a godstone, this is true, but it lost its power. There are two true godstones, and the one the shard came from was not buried in that crypt. Otherwise, King Lahnen would have found it out and claimed it for himself."

Qabala gave him a sharp look. "And how would you know of such things?"

Rade drew himself up. "I may have been called Rade these past thirty years, but I was born under a different name. My name is Yorne Radenos Regnak, and I was the cousin of Lord Gorran Regnak. When I was fifteen, I was taken to the University of Lhan Del and trained to become a Dume-General. For many years, I served and advised King Yahd Aeternus, the Unifier, until the day he set his eyes eastward. And now I would serve and advise you, my Eternal, until I cease to draw breath."

As he saluted, Nerris and Qabala stood rooted on the spot, silent. Finally, Qabala spoke. "There is a tale about a man named Dume Yorne, called the Lost Dume. He disappeared at the onset of the Enslavement War."

Rade nodded. "If you wish to see proof..." He lifted his tunic and pulled the side of his trousers down, and they could see a brand burned into his hip. It was a mark of sword and scroll. "Only the Dume-Generals were given this mark. I trust you saw a similar one when you burned the body of Dume Araka."

"Indeed I did," Qabala said, still awestruck. "Why serve me, Dume Yorne? Why not return to the family you were sworn to?"

"I was sworn to Yahd Aeternus, and briefly King Kolmat," Rade said a bit sadly. "I never took a vow for any of their successors. But my purpose is a higher one, and it has led me to you."

"I must find seven men or women to take up the mantle of Dume-General," Qabala said. "I would be honored if you would be among the first, your Constancy."

She extended her hand, and Rade knelt before kissing her fingers. "My Eternal. With your permission, I would escort you back down to the crypts. It is there, hidden behind a secret wall, that I placed the godstone Fatexion with my own hands, near thirty years ago."

Qabala shook with excitement. "Very well, your Constancy. Make your preparations and I will do the same. Nerris, come."

"I would have a word alone with this, er, Yorne," Nerris said, never taking his gaze from the graybeard.

She nodded. "You two must have much to talk about. I will be in my chambers."

Qabala exited, and Nerris rounded on the old man as soon as the door shut. "What are you playing at, Rade?" he asked. "Are you really the Lost Dume?"

"I am sorry for never telling you my real name, Nerris," Rade said. "I know you must be wroth with me."

"Wroth doesn't even begin to describe it," Nerris said. "You were a Dume-General. Yet you say you knew my family, fought alongside them—"

"It's a long and complicated story, and not one for the telling just now," Rade said. "But I swear to you, that was the truth."

"You served Yahd the Enslaver!"

Rade nodded. "Until the day I met Angelica. Though I never took up arms against Yahd or my fellow Dume-Generals, I quit Yagolhan for a quest, left behind everything I ever knew and everyone I cared about. I thought it fulfilled when it led me to your father, but I see now it was you I was meant to find."

"What are you talking about?" Nerris asked.

"This will wait until after I present Qabala with the Fatexion," Rade said.

"So you would enable her to be a monster after all?"

"No," Rade said. "This must happen, to avert disasters to come. Nerris, have you ever read the prophecies of the faeries?"

"You mean the Stonechaser Prophecy? I chanced upon a copy once when I was at Gauntlet," Nerris said. "Indecipherable gibberish, even if you believe in that sort of thing."

Rade grunted. "I see you're still not ready to open your mind. Come down to the crypts with us. It may help you understand."

Rade placed a gentle hand at the small of Nerris's back and led him from the room. A variety of emotions swirled within Nerris at once. Anger, curiosity, even a little fear. He was not sure what to expect down in the crypt of the Y'Ghan family, but he was sure he was not going to stay behind on this adventure, even if faced with the ghost of the Enslaver himself.

# Chapter Nine

QABALA STOOD WITH her arms up as Meeka slid a silken shift over her head. The cloth fit tight over her taut body, and she adjusted it to a more comfortable position. She would need a tight fit, she mused, to keep the butterflies in her stomach from flying away. In an hour's time, she would dip her head in Aristian Flames, and emerge as the Great Aeterna, speaker of the gods, and rightful ruler of all lands she deemed to touch.

_"But you know the gods are no longer here,"_ the presence in her mind told her. _"They fled this world long ago. Only you remain to right this world."_

She had heard that voice in her mind ever since childhood. It had grown more prominent ever since she took Palehorse. He sometimes appeared in her mind's eye as a man with pallid skin and dried, brittle hair. Every color about him, including his clothing, was a murky gray, a dead, neutral hue. Except for his hands, which were the purest white she had ever seen. Because of that she had called him the Pale One.

But his robe's tattered condition finally made the connection for her. This was the same Tattered Man the Cult of Eversor made their sacrifices to, she was sure of it now. But what interest did he have in who ruled over Yagolhan and the rest of Tormalia?

No matter. The Pale One had always shown her kindness. With his help she rose above the chains her foster father imposed on her body and soul. With his help, she had become a scholar, a warrior, a political dissenter, and finally, a leader. And with his help, she would make the world anew.

Qabala glanced at herself in the mirror. Clad in only a shift, she looked too plain for her liking. She wore no jewelry, and nothing to enhance her face or lips. She remained barefoot. Even Meeka looked more impressive at the moment. But Rade had said it was traditional for the new Aeterna to show humility before receiving the blessing of the godstone.

The sudden appearance of Yorne Radenos Regnak had been unexpected, but welcome. Though he had left Yagolhan before the Enslavement War, his name still commanded respect. His training had begun after Yahd's reunification of the kingdom, and he had far outstripped his peers in matters of intellect and diplomacy. On the battlefield, it was said he rivaled even Zaon Skovil, a fellow Dume-General whom he considered a brother.

Rade had been evasive about reasons for hiding the godstone Fatexion in Yahd's tomb, other than the simple fact that it kept his successors from getting their hands on it. She had searched the tomb herself upon taking the Aeternica, but had turned up nothing.

With Rade, Falares, and Nerris in tow, she had once again descended to the lower levels of the Aeternica, below even the dungeons and the Fury Pit, a torture chamber King Lahnen had been fond of using on his enemies. Rade led them under all that, and into the crypt of the Y'Ghan family.

A great stone door stood as barrier to Yahd the Unifier's tomb. It took both Nerris and Falares to open it enough to allow them access. Inside was an opulent room, filled with personal affects and the weapons of Yahd himself. A stone sarcophagus was embedded on the back wall. Rade gave his torch to Nerris and pried the lid off.

"We've already searched his body," Qabala said a bit impatiently.

"It was not the body you should have searched," Rade said, gripping the bones within and hauling outward. The skeleton fell to the floor, its bones scattering amongst their feet.

Falares gasped. "You would defile an Aeternus's corpse, old man?"

"That isn't Yahd," Rade said, indicating the skeleton. "I don't know what poor sod they got to stand in for him, but my Eternal never would have wanted to spend his forever days lying inside a box. Nerris, with me, please."

Nerris moved to assist the old man, who pressed his body into the back of the sarcophagus. Nerris joined him in his efforts, and stone creaked and scraped. After some strain, the interior slab of Yahd's resting place toppled forward, revealing a hidden threshold. The slab disappeared into blackness, but she heard it hit stone beyond, and slide downward.

Qabala held the torch overhead and saw stone steps had been hewn into the ground, which led even further into darkness. "Amazing. All right, Nerris, you're the treasure hunter. What now?"

"Let me lead the way," he said. "There may be traps." He glanced at Rade.

"I assure you I did not place anything dangerous within," he said. "However, I was not the one who fashioned this space. There may still be something there yet."

"Right, you two make sure it's safe," Qabala said. "Falares—"

"Yes, my Eternal?" The big man snapped to attention.

"Hold my torch."

Her bodyguard grunted in disappointment and took the torch from her. One by one, they climbed into the sarcophagus and descended even further into the catacombs. At the bottom of the stairs, Nerris and Rade went to sconces set against the wall and lit the torches contained there, and orange light filled the entire room. At the end of the long hall sat another dais, this one with a throne atop it. On the throne sat another skeleton, this one wearing the crown of a King of Yagolhan, its black eye sockets seeming to watch their every move. A trick of the light, most like.

As Qabala approached, a different colored light sprang forth. In the lap of the Unifier rested a rock the size of a man's fist. It emitted a blackish-purple light, and she felt the stone's power reverberate in her very soul.

"Behold, the godstone Fatexion," Rade said, "known more commonly as the Doom Rock."

A rattling noise distracted her, and she turned toward the source. Had there been a trap after all? Yet it seemed Nerris was the one rattling, and he appeared as surprised as she did. He looked at his side, where his blade, Noruken, vibrated within its scabbard.

"What—" Nerris began.

"Pay it no mind," Rade said. "The Doom Rock can have that effect on magical blades."

"My blade isn't magical," Nerris said, "just old."

Rade winked. "Some would say old is another word for magic. At least, that's how the ladies I've known describe me."

Qabala turned back toward the Doom Rock, which glowed brighter as she came closer. Faint sounds emitted from it, as well. Cries, wails, and the occasional scraping sound of splintering stone. It was almost hypnotic. She reached out a hand, but Rade rushed forward and stopped her.

"Not yet, my Eternal. Without the proper preparations, these stones can be dangerous to hold. It would not do to have you destroy something you may grieve to remember later."

"Such as?"

"Such as the city of Palehorse, for example." Rade reached out and grasped the stone in both hands. The outpour of its glow intensified, but Rade tensed as if bracing himself against a boulder.

"Can you hold it?" Nerris asked.

"I've held it before," Rade said. "I know what it's capable of doing and can handle it for short periods of time. Still, it's best we quit this place. I would cleanse my hands as soon as possible. I didn't dirty them on the tomb, but they reek of a different filth at the moment."

After they returned to the Aeternica, Qabala had declared her coronation ceremony would be three days hence, and her men struggled to make the proper arrangements in time. Finally, the day had come and she spent this last hour making herself as plain as possible. Rade had said the godstone would be easier to control with a humble heart. If someone with base and selfish desires touched it, the stone would feed off them, and terrible things could happen.

A sharp sting in her skull jolted her. "Ouch!" she cried, as Meeka pulled a hairpin away. Her hair had grown a bit over the past few weeks, and the slave girl had been trying to pin it behind her head. Qabala smacked her, and Meeka turned her head, crying out in shock. "Stupid girl. I need to concentrate, and you keep poking me."

"I am sorry, my Eternal," Meeka said, her eyes downcast.

"Leave my hair alone," Qabala said. "I am supposed to have no adornment."

A short time later, Rade knocked on her door to let her know it was time. Qabala told Meeka to stay in her room and left the royal chambers, making her way toward the great hall. Rade and Falares flanked her steps, their boots sounding heavy against the stone floors. Qabala's own feet made the barest of noises, yet in combination with her heartbeat, she could feel it echoing off the walls of the Aeternica just as loud.

Lukas Kord and Nerris each held one of the double doors open for her to enter the great hall. The setting sun shone through the long windows as she entered, bathing her path in golden light. All her officers stood off to the side of the crimson carpet leading up to the dais. Meznas and several of his cult members stood at the foot of the throne. All bowed before her, though one man seemed hesitant to do so.

A flash of recognition caught in her mind as she passed. The man was Chalis, one of the slayers of King Lahnen. As a landowner of hefty acreage, he had been allowed to be present for this ceremony. Of course, Nerris and Rade were to be among her first Dume-Generals. But the other, Mikaren... she had been told he met his end at the Battle of Gelnicka.

She tore her gaze from Chalis to look upon the great earthen bowl positioned at the top of the dais, about five paces in front of the throne. It was filled near to the brim with water, and the tiny vibrations of her steps made it ripple as she approached. She stood behind it, facing the gathered crowd. They were all silent, gazing upon her with eager eyes.

Qabala took a breath and spoke. "Good people of Yagolhan, you have followed me as Lady Qabala. Some of you call me queen, and some already name me Aeterna. But now we find out the truth behind these words. I have a godstone, and if it accepts me, I will reign for the rest of my days as your Aeterna. I will use it to protect our people, to destroy our enemies, and to create a new world, putting an end to injustice and sorrow. Those who are hurt shall be healed, and remain so as long as life persists." She glanced to Rade. "Dume Yorne, bring me the godstone Fatexion."

The crowd broke out into murmurs at the mention of Rade's true identity, and the old man nodded. At his orders, four servants entered the great hall, bearing a small litter. A velvet cushion sat atop it, and the Doom Rock rested in the center. The godstone was inactive at the moment, looking for all the world as an ordinary gray rock.

The servants presented the litter to Rade, and he grasped the Doom Rock with both hands. The stone broke out into a purple glow, and Nerris's scabbard rattled again. He placed a hand on Noruken's hilt as Rade ascended the steps and dropped the godstone into the waters of the earthen bowl.

White flames sprang up, and Rade barely got out of the way in time. The Aristian Flames crackled and emanated a great heat, and the sweat rolled freely down Qabala's face. If this worked, she would be consecrated as Aeterna, the supreme ruler of all. If not...

_"If not, who will miss the poor village girl, the one too afraid to stand up to her own father, too frightened but to lie there and take his abuse?"_ She heard the voice of the Tattered Man, clearer than ever. _"Through everything up to this moment, you have been as nothing. Do it now, and answer to no one from this day forth."_

Qabala gritted her teeth, gripped the sides of the bowl and plunged her head into the flames. A bright light flashed, and the world went silent as she immersed her face in the waters below. She held herself under for a moment before wrenching her head from the bowl, flinging droplets of water in every direction.

She opened her eyes, looking at the bowl. The flames were gone, and the water was empty. However, she did not need to ask where the godstone had vanished to. She could feel it within her, empowering her, permeating her skin. She saw with more clarity, moved with greater speed and without strain, heard even the faintest whisper uttered. All over, she tingled, and she touched her own face with a plaintive hand. She felt no scarring or burning; the flames had not harmed her.

Meznas stepped forward. "Behold, the new Aeterna! By Eversor's will, she comes to save this world from its own misery!"

The throng of men all went to a knee and bowed low. All, except one, who stepped out onto the crimson carpet. "No!" shouted the man known as Chalis. "I don't know who this Eversor is, but after what I saw in Gelnicka, I will suffer no monster on the throne of my beloved country."

Nerris and Rade strode forth to stop him, but Chalis bowled through his old comrades with a desperate strength. He pulled a short blade out of his boot as he approached, and Qabala reached for her own saber, realizing too late she still wore her plain shift and no weapons.

Meznas barked orders, and two of his cultists rushed Chalis with their own blades. Chalis did not flinch, but cut through them with the fury of a madman. They fell screaming to the carpet, frantically trying to hold in their own entrails. Meznas moved forward himself, but he was too slow.

Chalis plunged his blade through Qabala's stomach, and she leaned forward in surprise. Nerris, Rade, and Meznas were there now to drag him away, but she could not hear anything they said through her shock. Chalis yelled something about her betraying Yala, and Nerris rushed back to her.

"Qabala," he said, taking her hand.

She looked into the handsome face of the man she loved, his big hazel eyes faltering with worry. She felt the blade within her, piercing her organs and feeling the blood flow from her. Yet she didn't lose her feet. Instead, she drew herself up and placed Nerris's hand on the hilt of the blade. Together, they pulled it out.

She felt the organs and skin tissue mend themselves as the blade left her. It was instant, as if the effects of the blade itself were being reversed. She still felt the pain, but the bleeding stopped. She was alive. For as long as she held the godstone within her, she always would be.

Nerris witnessed this as well, and dropped the blade in surprise. Qabala felt the skin where it had pierced her. Not even a scar remained. It was as if her body had been made of a clay statue, molding itself back into form as the intrusion left her. The only evidence anything had happened to her at all was the bloodstained hole in her shift.

She took her eyes from Nerris and addressed the worrying crowd. "I am Queen Qabala Aeterna," she told them. "I am the answer to prayers which have gone unheard for almost thirty years. The New Gods are fled or dead, but there is one coming. One who will take us in his embrace, one who will envelop the world, smite the wicked, and spare the faithful. Eversor will come, and I stand here as his herald!"

She wasn't sure how she knew this, but then realized it was the godstone. It had made sure she knew exactly what to say. The men in the room broke into a cheer, but Nerris backed away, looking pale and sick. She met his eyes again. What was he so upset about? She spoke the truth, and truth was the source of all healing.

"What shall we do with him?" Falares stepped forward and pointed to Chalis.

"The blood of the wicked will serve to send a message to all who oppose Eversor," Meznas said. "My Eternal, give him to me, I beg you."

"No," Qabala said. "Though he could not hurt me, he who would lay a hand upon the Aeterna forfeits his life. But it is the task of a Dume to carry out the law." She looked at Nerris. "Nerris Palada, I would name you Dume-General. Do what must be done."

Nerris looked up at her. "Qabala, he is barely a boy. If you would truly wish to make a new world, then make it a merciful one."

Qabala's eyes flashed. She did not know Nerris held such attachment to this soldier. Why would he defend a man who had been willing to kill his beloved? She accorded him a great honor. He owed her more than insolence. "This is an order from your Aeterna," she said. "Do it now."

Several guards came forward and took Chalis from Rade's grasp. They forced him forward on his knees, giving Nerris the perfect position to strike off this traitor's head. Nerris rounded on her. "If you bear the love you say you do for me, for your country, for humanity, do not ask this. I will not condemn a man to death without even a trial."

"What need is there for a trial?" Qabala asked. "Every man here witnessed his attempt on my life. But as you wish." She scanned the room. She could not ask Rade; he held attachment for this man as well. Lukas looked as if he might bolt from the room at any moment. Finally, her gaze fell on Falares. "Falares, come forward."

The big man's eyes lit up and he went to a knee before Qabala. "My Eternal?"

"I would raise you to the rank of Dume-General," she said. "Will you accept by carrying out my will right here and now?"

Tears streamed down the brutish bodyguard's face. "I will, my Eternal. Thank you." He drew his blade and approached the man.

"You know the words of the Sentence?" she asked.

Falares nodded. "Ever since I was a boy." He pointed his blade at Chalis's defiant face. "I, Dume-General of the Order of Peacekeepers, constant watchman of the welfare of Yagolhan, bringer of justice and administrator of law within the realm, try you for sacrilege of the person of my Eternal, Queen Qabala Aeterna, and find you guilty. I hereby sentence you to death."

With a great overhand stroke, Falares separated Chalis's head from his body. His neck spurted blood, spraying the men holding him with a crimson mist. Falares drew a rag from his pocket and wiped his sword clean before sheathing it and bowing once more before Qabala.

"He was a good man," Nerris said. "You could have spared him, won him over to your side. You didn't need to do this. You say you wish to be all-powerful, yet you lash out like some petty child."

Qabala glanced at the faces of those around her. "Nerris, hush. We will speak on this later."

"We will speak on this now!" Nerris shouted. "You wish me to become your consort because I am a man of honor. There is nothing honorable about this."

"You would speak to me of honor?" Qabala hissed at him. "This, coming from one who stole into the walls of this very keep and slew a defenseless man? A word of advice, Nerris... do not use honor for your shield. You have nary enough to cover even your breast."

Nerris had nothing to say to that, and fixed her with a cold stare. Nobody else moved or spoke as the two kept their eyes locked. Finally, Nerris spoke. "You're right."

He turned on his heel and marched for the doors. The guardsman looked uncertain if they should bar his way or not, but Nerris unsheathed his Miagamese blade, and the men at the door scrambled to get out of his way. His reputation still exceeded even the presence of an Aeterna, it would seem. She did not know whether that made her want to laugh or cry. Qabala let out her breath. Stubborn, stupid Thrillseeker.

_"You would let him defy you in front of your faithful, you who are now greater than he?"_ The Tattered Man spoke to her, his tone monotonous as ever, but his words conveyed enough of his meaning.

Qabala closed her eyes, willing herself not to shed tears. She had stepped in it. She had gotten carried away, and now her true love was lost to her.

_"Despair will not serve. He will forgive you. You are the Aeterna, after all. Men will bend before your whims. But first, an example should be made."_

Nerris had already left the hall, but Qabala strode down the dais and past the body of Chalis, which was pooling blood onto the floor. Officers and guards alike scrambled to get out of her way, and she knew what they were thinking. If she could survive a thrust to the belly without even a scratch to show for it, what other powers did she possess?

Qabala marched down the entry hall, toward the doors which led to the bailey. Her heart despaired as she walked. She feared she had lost her chance at true happiness. Yet she was Aeterna now. The Doom Rock was within her, empowering her. There was nothing she could not do. She would apologize to Nerris later and make it all right, make him understand, but she had to do this to save face. He could still be hers. He should be hers. She would still have him!

As she exited the great hall and stood upon the steps leading down to the bailey, she caught a glimpse of Nerris a few dozen paces away. His back was to her. "Where are you going?" she called.

"To find where I left my honor," Nerris answered. "It will not do to walk around with so small a shield, after all."

"Nerris," she said, her voice shaking. "Please—"

She reached out to him, and Nerris turned around. For the first time, she was sure he truly did care for her. She saw it in his eyes. She could tell he wanted to walk back to her, but something was stopping him.

Qabala became aware of many voices behind her. All her men had come to see how this confrontation would turn out. Qabala righted herself, stood up straight and cleared her throat. "Guards!"

A small company of guardsmen rushed past her and positioned themselves in front of Nerris. He shot her a look of disgust and turned toward the guards, brandishing his katana.

"Don't do it, Nerris," came Rade's voice. "Remember what I said to you. We can work this out."

"Sorry, Rade." Nerris tightened his grip on Noruken's hilt. "You stay and serve, if you must. I am a Thrillseeker, free to go where I will. And I will not play lapdog to the thing you have created."

Qabala's anger finally got the best of her. "Take him!"

Nerris had anticipated her order, and felled two of the guards before the others even had time to react. More men moved in, but Nerris moved sudden as lightning, beating back one man with a kick even as he slashed through the throat of another. The other guards grew fearful, and Nerris backed them down the bailey.

That was when Rade rushed forward. Nerris heard him coming and met him blade for blade. They danced across the bailey, going stroke for stroke, until Falares and Lukas arrived. Nerris immediately went for the weakest one, and beat Lukas down to the earth in two swings of his blade. However, the others moved in and he barely managed to parry a massive blow from Falares. A moment later, Rade sent Nerris sprawling as he slammed the hilt of his sword into her love's face. The guards were on top of him a moment later, and they disarmed him before pinning his hands behind his back.

Qabala stepped forward as Falares saluted. "Let me strike off his head as well, my Eternal. I beg you for the honor."

"No," Qabala said. "Place him in the dungeons. I will see to him later."

The guards dragged Nerris past her as they brought him back inside, and he looked up at her. "Whether you kill me or not, I will never touch you again, nor will I serve the foul beings you have taken up with."

"These foul beings will heal our world," Qabala said. "And if they prove false, they will be dealt with."

Nerris sighed. "Still the little girl. Don't you see? They want you to think you're in control. That is how they get the hooks in."

The guards dragged him off, and Qabala felt the tears flow down her face. Rade placed his cloak around her bare shoulders, and for the first time she realized how cold it had turned. By morning, there would be frost on the ground.

"You are Aeterna," he whispered to her. "Do not let them see you weep. I will escort you to your chambers. Tears or blood, there has been enough shed this day already."

# Chapter Ten

NERRIS STRETCHED OUT on the hard bed inside his cell, trying his best to not be queasy. Underneath the Aeternica, it reeked of mildew and another putrid odor he could not quite place. He stared at the cracked ceiling, his mind going over various escape scenarios, each more unlikely than the next.

He sighed. It was ridiculous of him to confront Qabala publicly the way he did. She was getting used to having her own way all the time, and she lashed out like a spoiled brat whenever someone defied her. Coupled with the fact that she now claimed the mantle of Aeterna, with a godstone giving her apparent invincibility, she grew more dangerous by the minute.

He hadn't helped matters any with the way he had acted. Poor Chalis was not the only one who lost his head in the great hall. Her callous treatment of the boy grated on Nerris. Chalis had been nothing but supportive of her cause, and risked life and limb to ensure her biggest rival fell beneath his blade. Yet he saw the political implications behind what she had done. It proved to everyone who stood witness that she would enforce her will on anyone who defied her, almost as if it had been set up that way. But though Chalis's death upset him, that was not the sole reason Nerris had lashed out.

A sense of foreboding had filled him during the ceremony, culminating when the black mist filtered into the hall. He was sure only he saw it, except for Rade and maybe Meznas and his cultists. Qabala had been concentrating on the Doom Rock, oblivious to it. For a moment, a mere moment, he had caught a glimpse of the cult's Tattered Man standing behind her. The sight of the pale demon chilled him to the bone, not because of what it represented... but because Nerris had seen the gray figure before. In Miagama, three years ago.

He knew if the Tattered Man was there, it meant Qabala was beyond his reach. She had been sucked deep into his power, manipulated by the Cult of Eversor. He could not stay and watch her deteriorate from a bright, charismatic leader to an insane tyrant who could probably rip a hole through half the world with the aid of the Doom Rock.

He could almost hear Jhareth's laughter echo in his mind. He knew exactly what his friend would say to him in this situation. "Nerris, when a woman with that kind of power tells you to do something, you say yes!" He could see his friend's wry grin as well. "Besides, how many women out there are willing to bed you, much less a beautiful demigoddess?"

For three years, Nerris had tried to push the Thrillseekers from his mind. Now that he lay here, with nothing to do but reflect, he found himself remembering their adventures across the continent of Tormalia. Their penchant for success through recklessness gave them their reputation in the early days. As time went on, they became folk legends, which were often embellished far beyond what they had actually accomplished. The three of them had been welcomed in royal courts and wayside inns alike wherever they went.

How happy he had been back then. The company of his best friends and the wide open road before them. What else did he need? Nothing, he had thought, until he met Ketsuya.

Tears welled up in Nerris's eyes, and he pushed her from his mind at once. No. He had felt guilty enough about betraying her memory the first time he climbed under the covers with Qabala. He had come to care for her, in spite of everything. Maybe this was his punishment.

Somewhere, a door creaked and the sound of boots upon stone echoed throughout the cell block. Nerris sat up, making his way to the stout door. Had Qabala come for him? The incident in the bailey may have turned out different if they had been alone. He had his doubts she really wanted him down here. But with the Tattered Man whispering in her ear... maybe she meant to give him to Meznas, to offer him up as sacrifice to whatever foul creature this Eversor was. Whether she meant to kiss or kill him, Nerris was ready.

"Nerris?"

He released a heavy breath. "Rade. What are you doing here?" The old man held up a torch, which crackled as flame cast shadows upon his face.

"Springing you, of course," Rade said.

"Did Qabala send you?"

"No," Rade said. "I am here on my own."

Nerris grunted. "I thought the Aeterna was your master now. She would have you flayed for this."

"You wrong her," Rade said. "You of all people should know how much care she has for you. And yet, as with any one of us, we are capable of great evil, as well as love. Especially if we take up with the wrong crowd."

"The cult," Nerris said. "What is it, really? I know you know something about all this."

Rade sighed. "The cult and the Tattered Man are but the representatives of the true horror known as Eversor. For thousands of years, he has been working toward finding passage into this world. If he were to do so, it would be the end of all as we know it. But the magicks needed to gain him entry are vast and complex. Even if his cult murders every man, woman, and child in Yagolhan, it will not be enough."

"Then if Qabala is convinced to conquer the eastern kingdoms..."

"Precisely," Rade said. "Years ago, your father, myself, and several companions sought to put an end to the Tattered Man's machinations. We knew if we stopped him, we stopped the sorrow to come. But we failed. We only managed to seal him away temporarily. As long as he had followers, we knew he would return someday. Our quest cost your father his life, and I couldn't understand why the prophecy of the Faery Queen had led me astray."

"But what is the Tattered Man? Where has he come from?"

"Agent, herald, whatever you like. He is nothing but a manifestation of Eversor's will, to prepare this world for his arrival."

Rade fumbled with a large ring and inserted one of the keys into the lock. It opened with a hollow click, and Rade opened the door to let Nerris through. He handed him his katana, still in its scabbard.

"Thank you," Nerris said. "So Eversor is from another world? He is not a god?"

"Another world, of a sort," Rade said. "It's possible he comes from something beyond. His role in that particular plane remains a mystery. All which is known for sure is he wants to remake this world in his own image. And that involves destroying everything and starting over."

Rade beckoned him to follow, and they made their way through the corridors of the dungeons.

"I realize now you're the Catalyst foretold in the prophecy," Rade whispered, "not your father. I thought Qabala was the other, the one to confront the Tattered Man and Eversor, the one to put an end to all of this and eject them from our world. But I believe I may have been mistaken there as well. That's why you must go. If you stay, Qabala will never let you leave, and the cult will grow more powerful through her."

"I don't know anything about prophecies," Nerris said. "I've always believed men make their own destiny."

"True, prophecy should always be looked at as a guide," Rade said. "But to the business at hand: Dume Lukas is not the only one who knows secret ways in and out of the Aeternica. I have friends in the city even after all these years, and they will hide you until Qabala gives up her pursuit. When that happens, you must make your way to the closest border as quickly as possible."

"But if I stay," Nerris said, "I can talk to Qabala, reason with her—"

"As I said before, you are not yet ready to believe in the prophecy of the Faery Queen," Rade said. "You are too skeptical, Nerris. Your presence right now will play right into the Tattered Man's manipulations. He will seek to use you and set you against Qabala, driving her further into his clutches. Besides, there is no reasoning with someone who considers herself invincible. You can help her most by leaving now."

"Where will I go?"

"I am not without my own sense of the various realms and planes of existence which make up our world," Rade said. "I'm not a prophet, but the time I spent in the shadow lands all those years ago left certain... voices in my head, as well. What they are telling me right now is that you should head home."

"Home?" Nerris scoffed. "Where is home to someone like me?"

Rade shrugged. "You will find your way."

Nerris slumped against the corridor wall. "I don't know what to do, Rade. For the first time in my life, I have no clear goal. Why don't you come with me? We can figure it out together."

"I cannot," Rade said. "I must stay with Qabala."

"Why? You don't buy into this Eversor nonsense any more than I do. Why are you so adamant about serving Qabala?"

Rade didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, he turned to Nerris. "She is my daughter."

"What?" Nerris had not expected him to say that. He shook his head. "How... how is that possible?"

"After your father died, I sought comfort with the one I loved," Rade said. "We walked the shadow lands for many years, though it felt like such a short time to us. When we emerged back into this plane of existence, she was with child. The birth went hard on her, and she... well, unions such as ours were always going to be risky. We knew that. I attempted to take the baby back with me to my homeland. But when I crossed the border into Yagolhan, vagabonds fell upon me. My daughter was taken, and I was left for dead. I never knew what became of her until many years later, when I heard of a young woman uniting the various malcontents around Lhan Del into a political threat. She bore the same name as my long-lost daughter. I watched from afar until I was convinced she was the same little girl who had been ripped from my arms all those years ago. After she took Lhan Del, I joined her army as a common soldier, vowing to help her any way I could."

Nerris put a hand on the old man's shoulder. "Does she know?"

Rade shook his head. "No. How could I look her in the face and let her know I am the one responsible for the hard life she has suffered?" They came to a small alcove. Rade pushed on the wall, and a panel in the stone slid open, revealing a crevice. The air through the passage smelled dank and foul, and rushed out with a cold breeze. "This will take you down to the sewers. Follow the path until it comes out by the river. My people will be waiting for you."

"Thank you," Nerris said. "I promise, I will return and get rid of this Tattered Man. I don't know how, exactly, but he and I need to settle up as well. You just worry about keeping your daughter out of the crossfire." He started down the tunnel, but turned back. "You should tell her, Rade. It might make a difference." A thought struck him. "Wait, if she's your daughter... that means she... and I... we've been—"

Rade afforded him an amused smile before sliding the alcove back into place, leaving Nerris in the dark with only the torch to light his way. "You must leave. My time will be short before I'm missed up above. If circumstances had been different, I would have no objections to you as a suitor for Qabala. Given the situation, however, I'm afraid I must withhold my consent and end this courtship."

Nerris chuckled as he listened to Rade's footsteps fade away. He turned toward the encroaching darkness, with only the flicker of a small torch to hold it at bay.

# PART TWO: XENEA DOLCHIN

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# Chapter Eleven

NERRIS WOKE TO the steady _tap-tap-tap_ of rain water. Not that he had been sound asleep in any case. He had sheltered under a large oak tree the night before, which kept him drier than the other trees of the forest. He resisted the urge to go back to sleep and sat up. The sound of rainfall intensified, and he figured he better move before a downpour caught him.

He belted Noruken to his waist and grabbed his satchel before hurrying out in search of better shelter. This part of the world was known for its rapid shifts in weather, but he knew this oncoming storm was going to get worse before it got better. The morning mist made it difficult to see the trail, and he found himself tripping over logs and roots stretching across the path.

Nerris sighed. It had been too long since he had visited the Great Oak Forest. Woodland debris would have never hindered him back when he was twelve, when he knew the woods like an old friend. The forests of Faerna had not changed much since he left, unlike himself.

As the rain picked up, Nerris used the satchel to shield his head. In times like these, it was easy to miss sleeping in a tent or a stuffy bed in some palace. A little breakfast, a mug of milk, and a warm body to share it with... but that had not worked out well for Nerris either.

It had been almost six months since Rade spirited him from the dungeons of the Aeternica and out into the free world. His friends in the city proper had been true to their word; they sheltered Nerris for weeks while Qabala sent out patrols into the countryside, looking to bring him back. When she had finally given up, Rade sent a message for him to go. That was the last he ever heard from the old man.

Nerris made his way north and then east, to the Raddonite border. He stopped in the ramshackle town of Coquimtal, a city which had been built for the purposes of trading Agossean slaves when Yahd the Enslaver had invaded the east thirty years prior. The town's fortunes ended with the war and it was now a dump, caught between the Cosette Watershed and the jungle known as the Doni Zad with no reason to still exist.

He wasted little time in hiring a guide to take him through the Watershed, a vast area of swampland surrounding the Cosette River and Lake Lilo. He journeyed north to Alicanos in time to get caught in a snowstorm, and waited until spring before continuing east. Rade told him to make his way home, and the Great Oak Forest was the only home Nerris had ever truly known. However, even the trees were not much of a solace. He had grown used to life on the march, listless nights before a battle, the Queen of the Yagols in bed beside him. He had not had a good night's sleep since leaving Palehorse.

The rain came down hard now, and Nerris made a run for the underside of an old beech. The main limb of the branch was as thick as two normal trees, having split off from one of the larger surrounding beech woods when it grew too long and heavy. A similar one stood on the outskirts of Haladast, he remembered, lying next to the huge tree it had fallen from, whose gray trunk bore carvings of their initials. He, Jhareth, and Dist used to play there as children, turning it into a fort, a house, or a castle, depending on whatever they imagined themselves becoming on a particular day.

Though oaks were dominant enough to give the forest its name, the beeches were perhaps the most impressive looking. Some were so old it took two grown men to wrap their arms all the way around their trunks. Those ancient trees tended to shoot up a hundred feet into the air, and some went even higher. Returning beneath their familiar canopy was like being in the embrace of a long-lost parent.

The squall soon moved on, and a few raindrops sprinkled down, dripping off leaves and bushes to fall to the moistened earth. Nerris trudged through the grass and mud, cursing the mess they made of his boots. It was not as if he could purchase new ones at his leisure. All the money he earned through his soldiering had been left somewhere back in his room at the Aeternica; no doubt Qabala had decided to requisition it back to her own treasury. He sighed again. It had been quite a hefty sum, too.

As he reoriented himself, Nerris found he did not recognize this part of the wood. He knew the way to Haladast well, and should have been no more than half a day south of the village. But in straying from the footpaths and going cross-country, he had somehow gotten himself lost.

He was about to turn back and find the path again, until the rain's _tap-tap-tap_ reduced itself to a whisper, accompanied by a stiff breeze. A new sound replaced it, a muffled sobbing. Nerris turned his head toward the sound, but when he did so, it seemed to come from another direction, though far off. Nerris trampled through the foliage, attempting to hone in on the location of the noise. A smell wafted into his nostrils as well, and he gagged in revulsion. The burnt homes of Gelnicka had emitted a similar odor.

Looking around, Nerris found a stout beech to climb. The thick, evenly spaced limbs made it easy to get above the forest canopy, where the surrounding trees were more visible. A glance to the north revealed smoke rising from a clearing a short distance away.

Nerris clambered down the smooth, slick bark as quick and safe as he could, and hit the ground running. He headed north, crashing through the bushes and emerging into the clearing. Toward the opposite tree line, he spied the remains of a ruined house. The walls were gone, replaced by ash and cindered wood. The roof had collapsed, though some thatch had been saved by the rainfall. The rest had burnt away.

He located the source of the sobbing. Several feet from the rubble, a tiny girl, no more than a child, sat on a tree stump, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins. She was soaked from head to toe, and her body shook as she wept.

Nerris approached her. "Pardon me, miss."

The girl looked up. Her green eyes stared forlornly, and she stood. She was not a child, as Nerris had first thought, but a grown woman. She had long, blonde hair dampened by the rain and wore a light, plain dress. Much like her face, it was covered in soot.

The girl backed away from him. "Please. Please, go away!" She turned and ran, and Nerris moved after her.

"Wait," he called. "I'm not going to harm you!"

The girl's ankle caught on a root before she made it to the trees. She fell to the ground with a surprised gasp, and Nerris closed the distance. He knelt before her, wincing at the fall.

"Ow," she said, her tone much more comical than the weeping from a few moments before. She rubbed at her ankle.

"Are you hurt?" Nerris asked.

"I am sorry for running," the girl said. "You startled me."

Nerris held out his arms. "Let me help." She considered him for a moment, but grasped his hands. Nerris pulled her to her feet and let go. "Your ankle—"

"I am all right," the girl said, wiping the tears from her eyes, "though I cannot say the same for my home."

"What happened?"

She sighed. "A stray ember from the fireplace, perhaps. I do not know. I was asleep. I went down to the creek with my bucket to try and put it out, but..."

"Do you live here alone?" Nerris asked. "What I mean is, was anyone in there with you?"

She shook her head. "No, I was alone. My mother has been gone for a year."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Nerris said. "My mother is dead as well."

"Oh, no," the girl said. "She is not dead. Just gone."

"Really?"

"She said she had things to do," the girl said, "and that I would need to live on my own, and be brave. That was the last I saw of her."

Nerris frowned. It sounded like her mother had abandoned her. It didn't make sense to leave a young woman out in the woods by herself. Though fully grown, she was a little thing, the top of her head barely clearing Nerris's chest.

"I am sorry," the girl said. "I have not given you my name, or thanked you for your concern. I am Len-Ahl."

Nerris gave her a smile he hoped was encouraging. "It's nice to meet you, my faermaid. My name is Nerris." He sat on the tree stump. "So what are you going to do? Do you have any relatives you could live with?"

Len-Ahl shook her head. "No, my mother and I were the only ones here. You are the first traveler I have seen in some time."

That was not a surprise. The girl's speech was so formal and correct that it sounded like she had never had a real conversation with the outside world. Nerris frowned. He hadn't been much for company these past few months, but he could not leave her here with nowhere to go.

"I'm heading north a ways, to a village called Haladast," he said. "Ever been there?"

"No," Len-Ahl said. "I have never strayed far from this clearing. My mother told me the outside world is very wicked, and I should never let the light of home out of my sight."

Nerris rolled his eyes. It was one of _those_. The Great Oak Forest played home to all sorts of strange folk, if one probed deep enough. Still, he had seen enough wickedness in the last few years to last a lifetime, so her mother was not wrong in her own simple way.

"Well, unless you're going to wait for enough laborers to wander in here to help rebuild your home, you've got nowhere to sleep tonight."

Len-Ahl cast her gaze downward. "True."

"Let me take you to Haladast," he offered. "It's full of good people who have never turned away those in need. Someone there will give you a place to stay until you figure out what you want to do."

"I do not know," Len-Ahl said. "A village... I cannot imagine living close to such a large number of people."

"You'll get used to it," Nerris said. "Besides, humans shouldn't live in isolation like this. Before you know it, you'll start talking to the oaks and people will be spreading tales about the crazy tree lady deep in the woods."

Len-Ahl giggled. "Maybe it is time."

Nerris stood and offered his arm. "Then come with me."

Len-Ahl grasped his arm and they walked back into the forest. It was lucky for her Nerris had come along. Once she got past her initial shock, Len-Ahl was very trusting, and it could have gone badly for her if the wrong sort of man happened on her.

He found he had to slow his pace, since Len-Ahl's short legs could not keep up with his long strides. They stopped for the evening, and Nerris built a fire, though he was not confident he could strike a flame with all the wet wood. If Dist were here, it wouldn't have been a problem. Ever since they were little, his friend had been obsessed with fire. He could have poured some of his magic fuel on the logs, which was no magic at all, but a concoction of chemicals Dist had devised. Nerris didn't know the secret recipe, since Dist had always guarded it like a daughter's chastity, but the wood would have burned.

Len-Ahl wandered off for a while, and came back cleaned up and clutching a slender piece of wood. For the first time, Nerris saw what she looked like. Her blonde hair held a bright sheen. She had a heart-shaped face with full lips atop a petite body. Her small frame gave her a younger, coquettish look. He took his gaze away, not wanting to seem rude, and concentrated on getting the fire going. It took some doing, but he managed to strike a flame.

After checking the snare traps he had set, he returned with a rabbit, ready to skin and throw on the fire. However, Len-Ahl was using his knife to whittle at the piece of wood she had brought back from her own excursion. She worked fast and with practiced ease, and the vague shape of a fipple flute was beginning to form in her hands.

Nerris dropped the dead rabbit at her feet. "Supper time."

Len-Ahl glanced at the animal and shrieked in revulsion. "Nerris, what have you _done_?"

Nerris shot her a confused look. "I've fed us."

"I cannot eat that!" Len-Ahl backed away as if the rabbit was cursed. "It is an animal!"

"Of course it's an animal," Nerris said a bit irritably. "Don't tell me you don't eat meat."

Len-Ahl shook her head. "I never."

"Well, what do you eat?"

"Berries, fruits, vegetables, nuts," Len-Ahl said. "I kept a small garden behind my home. Or at least, I did."

"I've never met a person who didn't eat meat," Nerris said.

"Well, now you have."

"All right." He grabbed the rabbit by the scruff of the neck and dropped it in the bushes. "We'll eat your way tonight. I think I saw an apple tree a little to the east of here." He tromped off somewhat begrudgingly. He had been looking forward to fresh meat, but he did not have the heart to argue with her. She had been through enough for one day. Once they made it to Haladast, he would be shot of her and able to eat what he wanted. Until then, he would treat her as if she was a guest in his home.

"Don't forget the blueberry bushes," Len-Ahl called.

"Of course," Nerris said. "Whatever you say."

"And Nerris?"

He turned around. "Yes?" he said between clenched teeth.

"Thank you."

He gave her a small smile. "You're welcome, Len-Ahl."

After they ate, Nerris told Len-Ahl about some of the adventures he had throughout his life. Since she had been living in the middle of the forest for all of hers, she may have been the only person left in Tormalia to never hear of the Thrillseekers. He told her about Gauntlet, the elite military school in Agos, run by a man named Owen Palwell. That was where he, Dist, and Jhareth had not only learned to fight, but educated themselves as well. Until King Ullas came calling for Headmaster Owen's life.

"Gauntlet had been set up by outside forces," Nerris told her. "They were trying to discredit the school by bringing down the King's wrath on it. Instead of submitting, Owen and his son rose up in rebellion. King Ullas was not loved, and we were joined by the Lord of Orrigo and his vassals. That war came to be known as the Liberation of Agos. Owen was chosen to be the new king, but he died shortly after from wounds he suffered in battle. His son, also named Owen, inherited the throne from him."

"And this Owen the Second was a friend?" she asked.

Nerris nodded. "I saw him a few months ago in Alicanos, when I got bogged down for the winter. His queen is Lailea, daughter to Faerna's own King Maerlos."

Her brow furrowed. "King Maerlos?"

"You've never heard of him either?"

"Sometimes my mother would take in travelers," she said. "They mentioned a king."

"Well, we never would have won that war without his help," Nerris said. "Maerlos is a great general and warrior, and a hero. He slew Yahd the Enslaver in single combat at the Battle of Culpepper Ridge, which helped turn the tide of the Enslavement War."

"War," Len-Ahl said. "Why is it we celebrate the deeds of such senseless waste?"

"There is much atrocity in the world," Nerris said. "Your mother wasn't wrong. But there is much good also. You'll see." He covered up a yawn. "Since we have a fire, we'll need to take turns keeping watch. Which do you prefer?"

"Oh, I am not tired," Len-Ahl said as she glanced up at the stars. "I thought I might be afraid to be so far away from home, but I look up and there are my oldest friends, looking in on me. I suppose it does not matter where I go; the stars will always be there."

Nerris glanced up. Unlike that morning, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The constellation of Elltan the Warrior loomed overhead, and farther to the southeast was Xalos the Serpent. "Right," he said, and rested his head on the ground. But try as he might, Nerris could not go to sleep.

The sounds and smells of Gelnicka haunted his thoughts as they had many a night since leaving Palehorse. He kept seeing the faces of the villagers, Cheld's victim foremost amongst them. They cast such looks of despair his way as to rend his heart. He had been in command. It was his fault they no longer lived. He was unable to fall asleep, and found himself turning and fidgeting over the next hour.

Finally, he felt Len-Ahl put a hand on his forehead. "What—"

She shushed him and began to hum a slow tune. Nerris felt his eyelids grow heavy, and eventually they shut. Her cadence soothed him, but in the back of his mind Nerris knew it wasn't natural. He had heard the legends about folk of the forest who could lull travelers to sleep with magic for their own reasons, and he tried to shake off the effect. Len-Ahl merely stroked his hair, and it was as if she wiped away his resistance every time her hand touched his head.

She broke rhythm to speak to him. "If I had my flute, I would play for you, but it was lost in the fire. This will have to do in the meantime. Rest now, Nerris."

Nerris remembered something, and opened his eyes. "That rabbit... we should get rid of it, or hang it from a tree so it doesn't attract bears—"

"Shh," she said, placing her hand back on his forehead. "Everything will be all right, Nerris. Just rest."

She resumed her humming. Nerris tried to respond, but drowsiness overcame him. He finally dozed off, Len-Ahl's song filling his mind with a sense of peace.

# Chapter Twelve

NERRIS CONCLUDED LEN-AHL was one strange woman. It was not merely the fact she had put him to sleep the previous night with some kind of forest magic. Nerris had run into enough sorcery during his adventuring years, and took it in stride. His superstitious days were long gone. Nor was it her adamancy against eating meat. Again, he had encountered odder behavior over the years.

It was the way she wore the forest, almost like a second skin. Or maybe a suit of armor. Years of traveling the roads, from Locraw to Lhan Del, had instilled in Nerris a certain wariness. One never knew what dangers lurked off to the side, especially in a place with so many hiding spots. But when they encountered the path leading to Haladast, Len-Ahl flitted ahead as they walked, sometimes disappearing around the bend despite Nerris's cautions. She frolicked freely as if nothing could hurt her. One time, he was convinced he saw her talking to a bird perched on an oak branch. It flew off as he approached, and Len-Ahl smiled, happy to see him as if it had been days.

As they followed the forest path, Nerris noticed markers nailed into the ground, pointing in the general direction of Haladast. The ribbons hanging from the wood meant only one thing. "It looks like there's a wedding in town," he said to Len-Ahl.

"Should we not be going the other way?" Len-Ahl asked. "I have heard that in the ancient times, when the faery folk held a wedding, they would put markers in the ground pointing toward a false location. Everyone who saw them knew to head in the opposite direction."

Nerris nodded. He was familiar with the old superstition. The false markers were to protect the guests from trolls, who found easy prey on the various forest folk who attended. But trolls were stupid and had a poor sense of direction, and they would follow the markers and get lost.

"Well, there are no trolls here, if there ever were," Nerris said. "Trust me, the path is safe to follow."

She eyed the Miagamese blade at his side. "I suppose with a sword like that, you do not need to fear anything."

"A weapon won't protect you from all dangers," Nerris said. "How do you know about swords and fables like that, anyway?"

"My mother used to journey out into the world often," Len-Ahl said. "When she returned, she brought back books. Tomes of history, literature, myth... she taught me to read them. I know a great deal more about the world than you think, Nerris. Of course, I suppose they were all consumed in the fire." She looked down at her feet.

Nerris put an arm on her shoulder. "It's all right, Len-Ahl. These accidents happen. At least you escaped with your health intact."

Len-Ahl smiled at him. "Right."

The path led down a slope, and they came to a creek, which once must have been a small river, but now had reduced to a trickle. Still, the resulting chasm was wide enough that a wooden bridge extended over it.

Nerris laughed. "I don't believe it. I had forgotten about the bridge."

"Why, Nerris, I believe this is the first time I have heard you laugh. It is a pleasant sound."

Nerris shrugged. "Is laughter that unusual? You would laugh as well if you knew the story behind Nerjhadist Bridge."

Len-Ahl twirled a lock of her hair. "That name. It sounds like—"

"Yes," Nerris said. "When we were children, Dist, Jhareth, and I played on the old bridge all the time, along with our friend Melantha. One day, we got a hold of some rope and pretended the bridge was one of those old, rickety ones that extend between cliffs. Melantha was our damsel in distress, and she placed herself on a stone in the middle of the creek. It was Jhareth's job to swoop down on the rope and rescue her. Well, we disagreed on how we were going to do that, and Dist got mad. He shoved Jhareth off the edge, and he swung around on the rope and his momentum took out the supports on the bridge's underside. The rotten wood didn't stand a chance and the south end toppled down into the bank. We hung on and tried climbing up the other end, but our weight strained the supports on that side as well and the entire thing collapsed."

Len-Ahl giggled. "You broke a bridge?"

Nerris nodded. "The villagers were spitting mad, and made us all help in building a new, sturdier bridge. We concluded if we had to help build it, we could at least name it after ourselves."

Len-Ahl poked him in the ribs. "You are so serious, but there is a playful side to you, Nerris Bridgebreaker."

They crossed the bridge, which Nerris was pleased to see did not sway, even after all these years. They ascended the slope on the other side, and as they crested the hill, Haladast came into view. The town had grown a bit over the years. Some of the woodland around the tree line had been cut, replaced by sturdy houses. The homes in the village core looked a bit weathered, but pretty much as Nerris remembered them.

What he didn't remember was the place being this populous.

People littered the streets, many with tankards in their hands. Heavy laughter filled the air. Even with the slight expansion, the village could not accommodate so many. Were they all here for the wedding?

Several children ran by them in play, and Len-Ahl drew closer to Nerris. "Don't be afraid," he said.

"I am not afraid," she stated, "just nervous."

Nevertheless, she clung to the back of Nerris's shirt as he weaved through the mass of people on his way to the village inn, which also served as its tavern. Inside, boisterous drunks occupied every table, and a tired-looking man behind the bar poured the drinks as fast as he could.

Nerris approached him. "Young Craddis," he said. "It's been a while."

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Craddis asked.

"You see how they forget?" Nerris said to Len-Ahl. He turned back toward the barkeep. "My friends and I got our first taste of ale because of you. You used to sneak it out of your father's stores and we would all go into the forest where no one would bother us."

Craddis squinted at him and broke out in a grin. "Nerris? By Clystam! Nerris!" They clasped hands. "Well, a hero is among us! How have you been?"

"Tolerable," Nerris said, glancing at the number of patrons. "What's with all the people? The village hasn't gotten that much bigger since we left."

"They're here for the wedding," Craddis said. "I assume that's why you've come?"

"Who's getting married?"

"Marren's daughter," Craddis said. "Melantha. Remember her?"

"You're kidding me," Nerris said. "Melantha is the bride?"

Craddis nodded. "She met some bloke from Earthill about a year ago. He's going to be living here with her, but it seems as if his entire village has come down for the wedding."

"It's not why I'm here, really, but that is happy coincidence," Nerris said. "You have any rooms?"

Craddis shook his head. "I'm playing host to the groom's family and friends. I hope you brought a tent."

"Afraid not. How is your father?"

"Died some years back," Craddis said.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I always thought of him fondly, even if he did chase us from the property every chance he got."

"He often regretted being so harsh with you after you all left," Craddis said. "He said you'd never fend for yourselves in the outside world. Little did he know you would become the Thrillseekers!"

"Well, we were young and dumb enough to believe nothing could stop us." Nerris clasped hands with the barkeep again. "I suppose I better find Melantha. It's good seeing you."

"You as well," Craddis said. "We'll catch up at the wedding."

Nerris and Len-Ahl walked back to the door. "This place is a tavern?" Len-Ahl asked.

"The only one in the village," Nerris said. "That man's father, Old Craddis, used to own it." He kicked at a drunk, who had fallen across the threshold. "Out of the way, lush!"

The man crawled to the side, and Nerris and Len-Ahl stepped back into the morning sunlight. "Is it always like this?" Len-Ahl asked.

"No, but they're likely to be drunk for the next few days. Just your typical Faernan wedding."

"I think they are funny," Len-Ahl said as two men passed them, swaying back and forth as they sang a song comically off-key.

"We'll see how funny you think it is when the fistfights start."

"Fistfights?"

Nerris headed north, where Melantha's house stood. Around the corner on the tavern's outside wall, a group of men had gathered. At a wooden table, a lanky man with jet black hair and a goatee appeared to be luring them in with a shell game, though he used three tin cups instead. He watched as one of the spectators placed a coin on the table and the lanky man covered it with one of the cups. He moved them around, switching their positions so fast it was difficult to follow which one contained the coin. Of course, when the unfortunate gambler picked a cup, there was no coin. The shell game was one of the oldest cons in the world, but it still drew in the marks.

"What is it?" Len-Ahl asked when she saw Nerris staring.

"Wait here," he told her, and approached the con man. Another villager tried his luck, and of course came up short. As he walked away grumbling, Nerris shoved his way to the front. "I'd like to give it a try, if you don't mind."

The lanky one looked him over with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "With a blade as fine as that, a gentleman such as yourself should be able to put down more than a few copper helms. Place a silver sepp down, my friend, and double your fortunes. Unless you think my hands are too quick for you."

"Of that, I have no doubt," Nerris said. "What I really want to know is if I stand a fair chance, or if you're rigging this game."

"My friend, you wound me," the con man said. "Here, we'll use one of my own coins."

He flipped a copper coin onto the table, but Nerris swept his hand across, knocking the tin cups to the ground, and heaved the table out of the way. Len-Ahl started forward. "Nerris—"

"Stay back, Len-Ahl," Nerris said. "Well, _friend_? I'll leave it up to you. Meet me with blades, or I let you meet the authorities."

The men around them tensed up and cast nervous glances at each other, not believing the deadly turn their amusement had taken. Len-Ahl placed a hand over her chest as if it would slow her beating heart. The dark-haired man looked down at Nerris's sword and up into his eyes. His mouth gave a peculiar twitch, and he broke out into laughter. Nerris couldn't contain it any longer as well, and grinned. They embraced as their astonished audience looked on.

"Jhareth," Nerris said. "What in Clystam's name are you doing here?"

"Same reason you're here," Jhareth said. "Our little Melantha's tying the knot."

"I just found that out," Nerris said. "I always was the last to know about these things."

The villagers whispered among themselves at the revelation of Jhareth's name, and Len-Ahl edged forward. "You're Jhareth, Nerris's Thrillseeker friend?"

Jhareth made a show of breathing on his hand and rubbing it across his tunic. "I am, my lady, and if I had a hat on, I'd tip it to your loveliness."

"Easy," Nerris said.

"I'm sorry, Nerris, is she with you?"

"Not like you're thinking," Nerris said. "Len-Ahl, I've been telling you stories for the past day of my times with the Thrillseekers. This is one of my oldest friends, Jhareth Kanave."

Len-Ahl held out her hand and Jhareth took it and kissed her fingers. "A pleasure, my dear faermaid. Has Nerris been telling you of my battle prowess, my mental acumen, and my dashing good looks?"

"I've told her you're the biggest thief I've ever met," Nerris said.

"World's Greatest Thief," Jhareth said. He offered Len-Ahl her unfinished fipple flute.

Len-Ahl's other hand went to her pocket, which she found empty. "You stole that! I didn't even feel it!"

Jhareth wiggled his fingers. "Smooth hands. You know what they say: great thief, greater lover."

"No one says that," Nerris said. " _You_ say that."

The crowd around them had expanded, once word spread that two of the Thrillseekers were present. Jhareth folded his arms and gave the crowd a cursory glance. "Before our little reunion, I believe you wanted to cross blades, Nerris. I must confess I am not your match with a sword. With a Miagamese blade, you would cut me up into little pieces in no time. How about an exhibition? Does anyone have wooden blades for us?"

A young man ran off and returned a few moments later with two wooden swords. Nerris and Jhareth each took one, and they separated, standing about five paces apart. Nerris took off his sword belt and handed it to Len-Ahl. Jhareth removed two knives from his own belt and stuck them into the ground. He brandished his wooden weapon with practiced flair.

"What you are about to see is the fruits of over three years of training at Gauntlet, the finest school of martial marvels to ever exist," he told the crowd. "The smart money is on Nerris. When I was a youth, I had eyes only for my knives, but he strove to make me more versatile. Everything I know of swords, I learned courtesy of him."

Bets were taken, and a slow clap rang from the crowd as Nerris entered a fighting stance. When someone yelled "Fight!" they had at each other, throwing stroke after stroke. Jhareth was no slouch with a blade, but Nerris's reputation as one of the finest swordsmen in the land was well-earned. He also had a slight height advantage over his friend, and drove him back over the line of the impromptu circle which had formed. Jhareth rolled backward and came to his feet, discarding the blade.

"What say we make this more interesting," he said. "Does anyone have anything smaller?" Two small boys offered up their own wooden swords, no bigger than daggers. "Thank you, sons." Jhareth weaved them in front of himself so rapidly the crowd could not follow. He dropped into a fighting stance, and Nerris attacked again.

This time, Jhareth fared much better. Nerris now had to worry about two blades coming at him, and he had to double his own speed to keep up with blocking Jhareth's strokes. Finally, he saw his opening and drove into his friend. Jhareth tried to roll back again, but Nerris met him with a downward cleaving stroke as he found his feet and Jhareth barely got up his wooden daggers in time. His crossed parry blocked Nerris's own sword and they stood there, testing their strength against one another.

Out of nowhere, something struck Nerris in the side of his head, distracting him. Nerris released himself from the standstill and looked to the ground, where a long, fletched shaft lay on the grass, with a small cloth sack attached to the end. A practice arrow.

A curse from Jhareth a moment later told Nerris that Jhareth had been struck by a similar missile. They glanced to their right, where a well-muscled man with blond hair stood upon a terrace. In his hands he held a hunting bow, and a wide grin spread across his face.

Nerris laughed. "Dist!"

The appearance of the last of the Thrillseekers inspired the crowd into raucous applause. Dist bowed before them, and one of the villagers raised his hand into the air. "Winner!"

The villagers cheered even louder as tankards clanked together and men, women, and children alike stomped their feet. Len-Ahl approached Nerris. "Are you all right?"

"Of course," Nerris said. "Jhareth is a walking cry for attention, so I decided to play along, that's all. If you haven't guessed, that man over there is my other best friend. Dist Schies."

The terrace Dist stood atop had old building stones embedded in the side. It had once been part of a holdfast in the days of yore, when lords ruled from this site. Dist jumped to level ground and approached his friends. He embraced Nerris and clasped hands with Jhareth as the crowd clapped around them. Unlikely as it seemed, the Thrillseekers were together again.

# Chapter Thirteen

WHAT'S THE IDEA?" Jhareth called out to Dist. "I almost had him. I was about to clean up on the betting."

Dist rolled his eyes. "Sure you were." He punched Nerris in the shoulder. "I can't believe you finally showed up. We tried to get word to you about the wedding, but you're a hard one to reach."

"You both knew about this?" Nerris asked.

"I came home to visit my family a couple months back and learned about the wedding," Dist said. "I got word to Jhareth as soon as I could, and he came right away."

"I can't believe we're all here," Nerris said. "We have got to catch up."

"Right." Jhareth shooed the spectators away with his arms. "All right, show's finished! Get on, all of you!"

The crowd filtered away, but one young woman stayed. She had long, brown hair and wore a plain, linen dress. Nerris engulfed her in a hug when he noticed her. "Melantha!"

Melantha warmly returned the hug. "Hello, Nerris. Leave it to you three to outdo me at my own wedding."

Nerris took a good look at the woman who had once tagged along after him, Dist, and Jhareth as children. Her father was well-to-do in the village, boasted the biggest house, and had never approved of Melantha's choice of friends. She was all grown up now, and her smile still lifted the clouds themselves.

"When are we going to meet this betrothed of yours?" Nerris asked.

"Probably not until the ceremony tomorrow," she said. "He and his brothers are out hunting. He means to bring home a great stag for the feast." Len-Ahl made a somewhat dubious noise, drawing Melantha's attention. "And who is this?"

Nerris introduced them to Len-Ahl, and Melantha gave her a hug as well, which startled his companion. She took an instinctive step back, but returned the embrace once she saw no harm in the gesture. "It is nice to meet you," she said. "Nerris has been telling me all kinds of stories."

"I bet he has," Melantha said. "My boys were always a bit rambunctious in the old days." She took Len-Ahl's hands. "On behalf of our village, I welcome you to Haladast."

"Listen, Melantha," Nerris said. "Len-Ahl has lost her home. I was wondering, if for a little while—"

"Say no more," Melantha said. "Len-Ahl, you are welcome in my home for as long as you need to stay. It's a bit crowded for the wedding at the moment, but I'm sure we can squeeze you in somewhere. You don't look like you take up all that much space." She gave her a sly wink.

"Where have you been?" Dist said to Nerris. "The messenger I hired to send for you brought back all kinds of crazy stories about you marrying the new Queen of Yagolhan. Said you had joined up with her army."

"That last part's true enough," Nerris said. He didn't particularly feel like indulging his friends in what he felt for Qabala or the circumstances around his departure from Palehorse. "What happened to you? I remember you being a little pudgier."

Dist flexed his arm. "What, this? That's what happens after a few months of unloading ships in Khafi."

"You were a porter? I find that hard to believe."

Dist shrugged. "Sicorians are all lazy, so they pay well for good workers. Besides, you remember that exploding powder they used in Miagama? I set about making my own recipe, and the desert was the perfect place to test it. Plenty of open spaces, not many people about—"

"Uh oh, they're talking shop," Melantha said to Len-Ahl. "Why don't you come with me, Len-Ahl? Unless you want to be bored to death with talk of the advantages and disadvantages of melee, long range, and projectile weaponry. I'm sure the boys have much to reminisce about, and you can help me pick out a dress for tomorrow."

Len-Ahl bit her lower lip and looked at Nerris. "Um..."

Nerris nodded. "It's all right. Melantha will take good care of you."

She still cast an anxious glance at Nerris, even as Melantha led her away. Nerris gave her his best reassuring smile. Dist picked his practice arrows up from the ground.

"You were right there in the Yagol Civil War?" Jhareth asked. "I didn't figure you to go for soldiering. You don't really follow orders very well, Nerris."

"When I passed through Locraw, I heard this Queen Qabala could be trouble for the eastern kingdoms," Dist said, "that she doesn't plan on stopping once she has the Yagol throne."

Jhareth brushed off his concern. "That's for King Maerlos to worry about. What I'm more interested in is whether or not you picked up any leads for treasure in Yagolhan."

"Is that all you think about?" Nerris asked. "Is that the reason for your little game over there? Trying to fund an expedition?"

"That was just a diversion," Jhareth said. "You can only drink with village folk for so long before you've heard everything they have to say. I'm after much bigger game."

He leaned on the back wall of the inn and put his hands behind his head. Nerris and Dist glanced at each other. Nerris was sure he had the same thought. Jhareth was waiting for one of them to ask what he was up to. Neither wanted to give him the satisfaction, but both were curious.

Finally, Dist broke. "What are you after?"

Jhareth grinned. "The Stonechaser Prophecy." Dist groaned, and Nerris rolled his eyes. "What?"

"There's no treasure to be had from that old rag," Dist said. "Everyone and their dog have gone after the Exemplus."

Nerris tended to agree with his sun-haired friend. The Stonechaser Prophecy was supposedly written by the Queen of the Faeries, and it contained passages about a quest for a large jewel of immeasurable worth. Many had tried deciphering the prophecy over the centuries and gotten nowhere. Most these days regarded the passages as an allusion to something spiritual rather than physical. But what Rade had said to him all those months ago about the prophecies came rushing back. He had been told to go home, and now that he was here, his old friend showed up talking about the Stonechaser Prophecy. Did this mean something, or was it coincidence?

"No one has ever found a trace of the Exemplus," Nerris said.

"That's because they didn't have a copy written in the original language," Jhareth said. "You know how text can get lost in translation after translation. I have one of the original copies."

Nerris rolled his eyes. "Right. Let's see it, then."

Jhareth sighed in exasperation. "I don't have it _on_ me. But I can get to it easily. You two interested?"

The fact that Jhareth was speaking of the Stonechaser Prophecy intrigued Nerris. But what if it had nothing to do with anything Rade had said? And he would leave Haladast when he just arrived, and leave Len-Ahl behind as well. Though he trusted Melantha to take care of her, the forest girl had gone her entire life without much human interaction. Jhareth had been playing around with his flirting, but she gave her trust without consideration. She would invite all kinds of trouble without someone to watch out for her.

He shared a glance at Dist, and could sense he was much of the same mind. Though it appeared Jhareth never gave up on treasure hunting, Dist had made a new life for himself over the last three years.

"Once I finish my visit, I'll be heading back to Sicoria," Dist said. "I have experiments to conduct."

"You can blow things up on the road," Jhareth said, turning to Nerris. "Well?"

Nerris shrugged. "Sorry."

Jhareth's shoulders slumped. "What happened to both of you? You used to be a lot more fun."

Nerris clapped his friend on the shoulder. "We all have to move on sometime. Let's go in there and see if Craddis has any beer left in the place. I want to hear what you two have been up to since we parted ways."

The beer was stale and plain as village brew tended to be, but Nerris choked down a couple of tankards while he, Jhareth, and Dist exchanged stories about their time after the Thrillseekers. They met Melantha's betrothed that night, as he strode into the village dragging a dead buck with the help of his brothers. He was a sturdy lad named Brannos, a few years younger than themselves with an honest face and an apparent talent for animal husbandry. Nerris thought he was a bit of a hayseed, but he seemed nice enough.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny, much to Melantha's delight. The village rushed to finish any final preparations for the wedding, and by the late afternoon, benches had been assembled in front of a large elder tree at the edge of town. Nerris spent most of his time clasping hands with old acquaintances, most of which had children or even grandchildren by now. Many villagers he met for the first time, both of Haladast and Earthill.

He also introduced Len-Ahl to Dist's folks, Martias and Denisa, who were thrilled to see him again after so many years. He was glad as well; he thought they might hold some resentment for taking their son away with them all those years ago, but like when they were children, they said he and Jhareth were still welcome at their home.

He also showed Len-Ahl the house he grew up in, which had taken a beating over the years from weather and overgrowth. It was a modest dwelling, consisting of two bedrooms and a common room. Despite its age, he almost expected his mother to emerge at any moment, telling him it was dinnertime and giving the dirt on his hands a disapproving gaze.

Dist explained Rienna had been so loved the villagers had not allowed anyone to move into her home or tear it down. It just sat there as a kind of monument ever since her death.

Around sunset, Rannis, the elderly village magistrate, declared they were ready to begin the ceremony. Nerris, Jhareth, and Dist sat together and Len-Ahl soon joined them, wearing a fresh, clean dress Melantha had lent her. Her hair had been brushed straight back, and Nerris noticed it brought out her eyes. He met her green gaze and smiled, complimenting her loveliness. Len-Ahl blushed a little and managed to stammer out a thank you.

"Isn't a priest of Clystam going to marry them?" Dist asked as old Rannis took his place under the elder tree, facing the guests.

"The priesthood is stretched a bit thin these days," Jhareth said. "It's not like when we were children, or even when we were traveling together. Many of the old priests are dying out, and they've been having trouble getting fresh recruits."

"I wonder why," Nerris said.

"Some say the Deinovi don't answer prayers anymore," Jhareth said, using the classical term for the New Gods. "Or that people don't believe like they used to. Even the Dominarch has shut himself in on Dania Isle. But who can say, really? The gods not answering prayers is a complaint as old as the world."

One thing the ceremony didn't lack was musicians, some of whom looked a bit haggard from all the drinking the day before. A violist, lutist, and even a bagpiper had come down from Earthill, and were joined by villagers of Haladast on drum, flute, and harp. Little Faria, who had been a small child when Nerris had left, led them with a beautiful voice in perfect pitch.

They played a decent rendition of a traditional wedding march as Melantha walked toward the elder tree, accompanied by her father and carrying a bouquet of baby's breath. She wore a beige-colored dress and a wreath of daisies adorned her head. She handed off the bouquet to one of her friends and took Brannos's hands, staring into his eyes as if they were the only two people present.

The ceremony was a short one, as Rannis was not one for long speeches. He did not read from the White Book as a priest of Clystam might, leading Nerris to doubt the old man could read much of anything. But he quoted the usual wedding passages: swear to love and obey, covet no one else while you both shall live, and other phrases of the sort.

Rannis then produced a long string, which he tied around the couple's intertwined hands. He pronounced them husband and wife from this day forward, and only death would come between them. Brannos and Melantha shared a kiss as the guests applauded, and Rannis untied their hands, declaring what was once two had become one, and to go forth and be merry.

The wedding guests certainly followed that last order to the letter. Craddis brought out cask after cask of ale and beer as the village wives served choice slices from Brannos's big catch the day before. As night descended, torches were lit and staked in the ground so the celebration could continue. Dist didn't feel this was enough light, and directed some youths into building a fire ring large enough to hold a bonfire. After accumulating some spare firewood, sticks, and a generous donation of his "magic fuel," he soon had a six-foot flame burning.

Melantha's family brought out more food, and while Nerris helped himself to a large portion of venison, he noticed Len-Ahl staring at all the meat in revulsion. She had been pecking at the walnuts all night, but didn't seem to have much of an appetite.

"Did you enjoy the ceremony?" Nerris asked.

Len-Ahl smiled upon seeing him. "Oh, yes. I have never seen a wedding before. What are we to do now?"

"Some keep drinking until the sun comes up." Nerris pointed to a ring of villagers, locked hand in hand and dancing in a circle to the tune of a jig from the impromptu troubadours. "Some like to dance instead."

"I think I prefer the dancing," Len-Ahl said, "but I do not know how."

"There's one way to learn." Nerris gestured toward the dancers.

Her eyes widened. "You would not dare!"

Nerris took hold of her shoulders, and despite her squeals and protests thrust her into the throng. The circle opened up and two dancers grabbed either of her hands, continuing to spin. Nerris cast a mischievous grin in her direction as she twirled round and round, mouth open in surprise. However, on her fourth pass, she wrenched one of her hands free and grabbed Nerris's. Before he could protest, they drew him into the circle as well, and he found himself flailing around to the melody of "Old Mig's Jig." He looked at Len-Ahl, and she smiled now, all vestige of anxiety gone. When the song ended, the circle broke up, and they all applauded.

"See?" Nerris told Len-Ahl. "Nothing to it."

"It was much more fun than it looked," Len-Ahl said.

Once the musicians caught their breath, the lutist and flutist introduced a much slower strain, and many of the dancers paired off. Nerris cleared his throat. "Well, I suppose I should make sure Dist isn't burning the village down."

Len-Ahl took his hand. "No. I should like one more dance."

He stared into her determined, green eyes and acquiesced with a nod. He put his arm around her waist and led her in a slow sway as Faria joined in with her beautiful voice. She sang an old song called _The Maiden in the Willow_.

It told the story of a young man who was hunting in the forest when he heard a beautiful voice. He followed it to behold a faery girl who lived in a willow tree. Enraptured by her beauty, he sought to wed her, but the girl could not leave her tree. Len-Ahl drew closer to him as she reached the first chorus. She lay her head on his chest as they swayed back and forth under the bright moon.

The song went on to describe the young man's attempts to woo the faery girl, describing her red hair and emerald eyes. But she still would not leave her willow tree. Finally, he resorted to force as he brought his ax to the tree and chopped it down. He led the faery girl from the forest, but upon stepping outside the trees for the first time, she collapsed and died.

It was a song often sung to young children in the Great Oak Forest to teach respect for the land, and that force does not always prevail as expected. But the way Faria sang it was passionate enough to bring a tear to the eye. Indeed, when the song ended and their bodies parted, tears were streaming down Len-Ahl's face.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It was so sad. The poor girl."

"It's just an old song," Nerris said, wiping the tears from her face.

Len-Ahl nodded. "You are right, of course. Nerris, would you mind... I think I would like to be alone for a while."

He nodded. "Of course." Nerris left her to her thoughts and went off to find Melantha, congratulating her with a kiss on the cheek and clasping hands with Brannos. Jhareth, who had more than a few drinks in him, was regaling a group of young women about one of their adventures, and Dist was still feeding his fledgling bonfire.

After speaking to some more villagers he knew as a child, Nerris's eyes searched out Len-Ahl. He finally spied her on the same terrace Dist had stood upon the day before, staring out into the forest. She had found a blade and continued whittling away at her wooden fipple flute. He could hear a strain of song from his vantage point, and realized she was humming _The Maiden in the Willow_. Seeing that she was all right, he smiled and turned back to the feast.

# Chapter Fourteen

CLOUDS COVERED THE sky the morning following the wedding, suggesting the approach of another spring rain. Upon awakening, Nerris left the spare room in the house of Dist's family and stretched as he walked into the kitchen. Dist's mother greeted him as she sliced bread for the porridge she was cooking. Nerris sat down at the table and yawned.

"Rough night?" Denisa asked.

"I haven't eaten or drank that well in years," Nerris said, "nor stayed out that late."

"Martias and I turned in after an hour or two," she said. "Celebrations are best left to you young folk."

"Thank you again for giving me a place to stay," Nerris said. "I may be used to sleeping outdoors, but at least this way I don't have to worry about the rain."

"You know you're always welcome in our home, Nerris," Denisa said. "You and Jhareth being back here have Dist acting like a child again."

Nerris nodded. It was going to be more than a little rough on all three of them when they went their separate ways again, he suspected. "What's the news on the rest of the village? Aside from Melantha's nuptials, I mean." Dist's mother was always good for a bit of gossip. It had been almost fifteen years since he, Jhareth, and Dist had left the safety of their home and set out into the wide world, their destination to seek training at Gauntlet.

"Well, you remember Girda?" Denisa asked. "She married Darros shortly after you three left. All went well. They had two children. A few years later he discovered Girda was having an affair with Cardan. Which of course called into suspect ownership of the children—"

"I was thinking more along the lines of the village's general health," Nerris said. "I see more houses now than were here before, but is it flourishing? Is everyone growing enough food, selling enough to pay their taxes?"

"Oh, yes," Denisa said. "Marren and Rannis make sure we get by, as always. Not much changes in good old Haladast."

Nerris grunted. That was the truth of most small villages. Haladast had once been the seat of a lord in ancient times, but through conquest or disease or any other reasons lost to history, it had been abandoned, though the village remained. Haladast even meant _holdfast_ in the classic tongue, but nowadays they gave their allegiance to the Palada family at nearby Brookbel. Nerris had lived thirteen years in the village without ever realizing he was Lord Palada's nephew. It wasn't until later, when the Thrillseekers guested at the royal court in Faerlin, that Nerris's heritage came to light.

Denisa trailed off as some shouts from outside distracted her. Nerris went to the window and looked out. A group of men on horseback rode into the village square, coming down from the north. His first thought was brigands, but then he noticed the riding formation. These were military men. And a glimpse at the adornment on their banner revealed a diving kingfisher, sigil of House Klaidon. They were king's men as well.

"What is it?" Denisa asked.

"Stay here," Nerris told her. He stopped in his room to put on his boots before heading outside. Marren, Melantha's father, was already there, conversing with the commanding knight.

"We are sorry to disturb you," the young commander said. He wore full armor, as well as a surcoat bearing the halting hand of House Tosset. "We would have arrived yesterday, but our scouts reported a wedding, and we were loath to interfere, so we decided to wait until morning before making our presence known. I am Sir Enric Tosset, captain of the guard at Faerlin Castle."

That brought murmurs from the growing crowd of hung-over villagers. That meant Sir Enric answered to King Maerlos himself.

"To what do we owe the honor, Sir Knight?" Marren asked.

"I understand one Jhareth Kanave is in the vicinity," Enric said. "I would much like to speak with him."

Marren cast a nervous glance at his fellow villagers. Even if he had not been there for fifteen years, Jhareth was still one of theirs. Their first instinct was to protect him. "For what purpose?"

"I may not reveal that," Enric said. "In truth, I know not myself. I only know I am charged with finding Jhareth Kanave and bringing him back to the royal court by order of King Maerlos Klaidon VII. Is Master Kanave present or not?"

The villagers all spoke up at once, each pointing in a different direction, some even suggesting Enric and his men might want to ride as far east as Timberedge to seek him out. Enric gave them all an annoyed look.

"Very well. We shall conduct a search ourselves." He gave orders, and his men spurred their mounts and fanned out.

"What's going on?" Dist came out of his house and approached Nerris, his bright blond hair still disheveled from his slumber.

"King's men," Nerris said. "They're after Jhareth."

"That fucking whoreson," Dist said. He often spoke that way of Jhareth. "What's he done now?"

Nerris shrugged. "I don't know, but it's better if we find him first and warn him. He's probably sleeping off the drink under a tree somewhere."

They checked all likely spots in the village where Jhareth might have dropped, but did not find him. Dist sought out Melantha, while Nerris went to the inn to talk to Craddis. Upon his exit, he nearly barreled into a hunched old woman making her way inside. She shook her walking stick at him and Nerris threw up his hands to show he meant no ill intent.

The King's men, meanwhile, searched under every haystack and inside every house, including the tents of the visitors from Earthill. This drew protests from the villagers, many of whom were just waking from their drunken doze. They milled around, buzzing about themselves and adding to the general confusion as the soldiers continued their hunt.

Nerris and Dist conducted their own search in the outlying woods, and Nerris was pleased to see the fallen bower they had played under as children was well tended by the current crop of village youths. The children had all grown up hearing how the Thrillseekers had once played at that spot. Unfortunately, none of them had seen Jhareth either.

They continued their search, stopping at the usual hiding places from years past. They were well versed in these woods, and if Jhareth had found one of their old hidey-holes, the soldiers didn't have a chance of discovering him. However, their luck wasn't any better for their thoroughness.

It was around an hour before they returned to the village, where Sir Enric's men appeared to have given up as well. Quite a few of them slumped as they sat on the holdfast terrace overlooking the village square, talking amongst themselves, though Enric himself still trotted about on his horse, as if hopeful Jhareth might show himself.

"He appears to have slipped away," Dist said. "Should we tell them that?"

"If they figure out who we are, we'll have them dogging our steps next," Nerris said. "It's well known the Thrillseekers don't abandon their friends. They'll just watch us and wait for him to come back."

Nerris turned toward his friend, but found himself standing in the path of the same old woman he had almost careened into earlier. Nerris stepped aside out of respect, and the hunched crone hobbled past him, keeping her hood up, leaning on her walking stick with both hands. Nerris waited until her back was turned and grabbed her by the shoulders, hurling her into the wall of the nearest house.

"Nerris!" Dist protested.

Nerris threw back the old woman's hood to reveal Jhareth, who stood up straight, all traces of infirmity gone. "I knew something was off about that woman," Nerris said.

"Good morning," Jhareth said pleasantly. "How did you know it was me?"

"Dellain, near Oraila, about seven years ago," Nerris said. "You used the same disguise to sneak into that castle on Lake Oro."

"Good memory."

Dist glared at Jhareth. "And no one noticed a strange old lady wandering around?"

"It's all in the stance and the walk," Jhareth said. "People see what they expect to see. The best place to hide is in plain sight, I always say."

"The whole village is in an uproar," Dist said. "Why are the King's men after you?"

"About that," Jhareth said, "it's really very complicated, a misunderstanding, actually—"

Nerris rolled his eyes. "Just tell us."

"There he is!" shouted one of the guards, spotting them. The men on the terrace got to their feet and rushed toward them.

Nerris put his hands out. "Hold on," he said. "This man is a known friend to King Maerlos and the kingdom of Faerna. If you lay a hand on him, you risk the displeasure of the Thrillseekers. Unwise is the monarchy who incurs our wrath!" It was all bravado, but Jhareth was not the only one who could talk his way out of a situation.

The soldiers looked at each other, perplexed. "You are the other Thrillseekers?" one of them asked.

Nerris nodded. "I am Nerris Palada, and the man with me is Dist Schies. By order of the King himself, no harm was to ever come to a Thrillseeker by Faernan hands. Or has King Maerlos forgotten the friendship he swore to us many years ago?"

The soldiers gave each other uncertain glances, but Sir Enric rode in at that point. "What's going on here?"

His men saluted. "Sir, we have located Master Kanave!"

The rest of Enric's men closed in as the knight approached. Nerris braced himself. They did not have their weapons on them, but he was not defenseless. If Enric attacked, he could use the weight of his own armor against him if he had to. He had learned his hand-to-hand defenses well both at Gauntlet and in Miagama, and could unarm any man present. But against the dozen armored men with him, even the Thrillseekers would be no match. If they wanted to apprehend Jhareth, they would. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dist tense as well, and knew he was ready to spring at a moment's notice.

But instead, Sir Enric dropped to a knee before them and bowed his head so they were all staring at the crown of a mop of sandy hair. The rest of his men did the same, and Nerris relaxed a bit. "It is and never was my intention to insult the Thrillseekers," Enric said in a reverent tone. "Please, forgive me."

Nerris looked at Dist, whose eyes narrowed in puzzlement, and shrugged.

Dist cleared his throat. "Well, er, don't let it... happen again?"

Others in the village had come over to see what the ruckus was about, and suddenly they had an audience again. Melantha and Len-Ahl pushed their way to the front of the crowd, each casting them a questioning look.

"Forgive me," Enric repeated. "Master Kanave, I was told by King Maerlos to bring you back to him at Faerlin. I am but a soldier and must obey my king."

"What does he want Jhareth for?" Dist asked.

"I do not know," Enric said. "I was only given a message to relay to Master Kanave once I found him." He stood. "King Maerlos sends his apologies for the quarrel which caused strife between you and him many a fortnight ago, and begs you to return to Faerlin, so negotiations may resume."

Jhareth, who looked as if he might clamber up the wall at any moment to escape, relaxed. "Is that all? Then I will certainly go with you."

"Is anybody going to explain what's going on?" Dist complained.

"You remember what we talked about the other day?" Jhareth asked. "The key to the treasure I spoke of? Well, it was in care of the King. I was close to securing it, but his Majesty is most stubborn. He reneged on the deal we made, and I decided to steal it and leave his hospitality to voice my displeasure."

Nerris's eyes went wide. Jhareth spoke of the original copy of the Stonechaser Prophecy. He had stolen a national treasure, and King Maerlos was apologizing to him? "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said.

Jhareth grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "That's all right, Nerris. I was always better at keeping track of the minute details anyway. Sir Enric, if I return with you, it will be at the side of my friends. Is that acceptable?"

Enric inclined his head. "The Thrillseekers are always welcome at court. This is universally known."

"Did I not distinctly say I wasn't interested in any more of your schemes for riches?" Dist said.

"Oh, come off it," Jhareth said. "You both know as well as I that we were never as strong as when we were together. Sixteen years, Nerris, Dist. Sixteen years. That's how long we were a team. The truth is I need you. One last time, I need the Thrillseekers. And when we're done, well... we'll go our separate ways, or stay together and live richer than kings, whatever your desire. Just come with me this one time. Please."

Nerris and Dist shared a glance, reminiscent of the one a few days ago. Nerris could not deny his resistance to the idea had been fading ever since Jhareth mentioned it. He had always known there were more important things than riches, and learned that lesson through his travels. But he could not pretend the prospect didn't excite him. Money could not buy happiness, but it sure would make life easier. His blood tingled again, like in the old days, and he suspected Dist felt the same.

"Very well," Nerris said. "I'm with you, Jhareth. I just found you and Dist. I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye again yet."

Jhareth grinned, and looked at Dist, who sighed and folded his arms. "So much for the quiet life," he growled. "All right, Jhareth, but this had better not be some wild goose chase."

Their audience buzzed at the announcement of a reunion of the Thrillseekers. After Enric's men dispersed to tend to their mounts, Melantha and Len-Ahl came forward. "You three sure know how to stir up excitement," Melantha said. "I suppose you'll be leaving me again."

"Sorry," Jhareth said, "but you've got a new husband to keep you busy. I have confidence you'll manage without us for a while."  
Nerris looked at Len-Ahl. "I guess this is it," he told her. "Don't worry, I'll come back to visit once this is all over. Melantha will take good care of you—"

"I think not," Len-Ahl said.

"What?"

She smiled. "Silly Nerris. For years, I read about cities in my books, places where there were no forests, where people wandered the roads thick as fog, and of structures larger than the tallest trees. I should very much like to see this Faerlin for myself."

Nerris looked at Jhareth, who shrugged. "Why not? We're just going to the capital. I intended on coming back here to plan our journey anyway."

"I don't know about that," Nerris said. "We tend to attract trouble wherever we go. I don't want to put Len-Ahl in danger."

"Blue winds." Len-Ahl sighed in exasperation. "I am right here. Do not speak as if I were not."

"Len-Ahl, you've never been outside the Great Oak Forest," Nerris said. "Learn to walk before you run, or you'll find yourself leaping off a cliff."

"Then it is a good thing you will be there to catch me."

Dist guffawed at that. "She does seem like good company."

"You too?" Nerris asked his blond friend. He turned back to Len-Ahl, who had the hint of a smirk on her face.

"From what I hear, the best way to see the world is to follow the Thrillseekers," she said. "This village, as nice as it is, will not serve for my purposes. Like it or not, you are stuck with me, Nerris Palada."

# Chapter Fifteen

THAT EVENING, NERRIS and Len-Ahl waited while Dist and Jhareth packed for their trip. Nerris had been traveling light, with a satchel, his hunting bow, a quiver, and Noruken at his back, looped through his belt. Len-Ahl still held his knife, which she used to whittle away at her only possession, the slender piece of wood she was fashioning into a fipple flute.

They watched as Jhareth tucked away several knives of various sizes onto his person. His own satchel, containing maps and tools for various purposes, was secured to one of the horses Sir Enric had provided for them. Meanwhile, Dist shook out a blanket on the ground outside his house, where he took stock of his many tools. He laid out quivers full of different-sized arrows, and bows of varying length. Nerris was used to it all, but Len-Ahl watched in wide eyed astonishment.

"Blue winds, what do you need all those for?" she asked.

"The longer the bow, the greater the range," Dist explained. "But as enemies get closer and I want to maintain accuracy, I switch to a shorter one."

"What happens when you run out of arrows?"

Dist shrugged. "I never have."

"Show her the Big Black," Nerris said.

Dist nodded and disappeared into his house. In a few moments, he emerged with a large crossbow, painted jet black. However, there was no windlass and it had a tiller on the end, and was thrice-stringed. A wooden box adorned the top. Dist pulled a lever on the underside and the strings drew back automatically.

"Properly, it's what is known as a repeating crossbow," Dist said, "but I've made a few special modifications. This pump on the bottom means I don't have to secure the drawstring myself. If this box were loaded, it would drop three bolts into the bow. The triple strings assure I can loose three times before I need to reload. It's also fashioned with castle forged steel. Should an enemy close the distance, I have a striking weapon as well." He lifted the crossbow to show her the spike protruding from the bottom.

"Dist was never much for books and literature, but he's quite the marvel of engineering," Nerris said.

Len-Ahl shook her head. "Bigger and better instruments for killing. Why is that always the way of it?"

Dist squeezed the firing lever on the Big Black and the strings snapped back into place, one after another. "If we don't think of them, someone else will. It's better to stay one step ahead of those who would do you harm."

"Some believe the way to win your enemy's heart is through love and understanding," Len-Ahl said.

Dist begrudged her a nod. "Usually, they're the first to die in battle."

Soon, Dist and Jhareth were ready to leave, though Dist's chestnut mare seemed uncomfortable with so many bows being strapped to her saddle. When he calmed her down, Nerris glanced off to the northeast and met his friends' gazes. Dist and Jhareth nodded, and they set off on foot, heading toward the woods.

"What is it?" Len-Ahl called after them.

"One thing left to do before we leave home again," Jhareth said. "Come along if you like."

It was nearing sunset, and the Thrillseekers wound their way through the trees and brush, with Len-Ahl following behind. When the village was out of sight, they climbed up a hill and came to a stop in front of an old rose tree. It was in full bloom, covered in many white flowers. Nerris knelt in front of it and placed his hands together.

"What is he doing?" he heard Len-Ahl ask Jhareth.

"This is where Nerris's mother and father are buried," he told her in a hushed voice. "Derrin Palada died before he was born, and was laid to rest here. Years later, Rienna was placed beside him." He sighed. "I never had a home in Haladast, as such. I wandered much as a child, but when I came back to the village I was always welcome to stay with Nerris and Rienna. She was such a caring woman. In my experience, maybe one in ten thousand is like her."

After a few moments, Nerris finished his silent respects and strode back down the hill without a word. "Nerris?" Len-Ahl called out to him.

"Best not disturb him," Dist said. "He's always moody when he thinks about his parents, so we leave him alone."

It was not the deaths which perturbed Nerris's mind. He had never known his father and carried around the fact that he never would for his entire life. His mother's death had been hard at the time. He was stuck in that awkward place between boy and man, with no one except his friends to comfort him. Rienna's death had been the catalyst which set him on the path that led to Gauntlet, the Thrillseekers, the Faernan Court, Miagama, Yagolhan, and back here again. Jhareth never had any family, and Dist was at continuous odds with his in those days, as adolescents are wont to be. Nerris had been the only holdout.

It was the thought of what might have been which drove Nerris into deep thought. What might have been had his father survived, and his mother? What life may have been like had he grown up at Brookbel, son of Lord Derrin Palada, likely betrothed to a highborn girl, destined to rule this parcel of land and perpetuate his own line. Or even had it just been his mother. If Nerris had spent his whole life in Haladast, learning a trade, or to tend garden and hunt in order to sustain him, would he have known the extreme elations, pains, sorrows, and joys which awaited him in the wide world outside the embracing canopies of the Great Oak Forest?

His friends gave him a respectful distance, for which he was grateful. His own thoughts did not disturb him too much as he slept that night, and he woke refreshed and ready to set out. Since Len-Ahl had never ridden a horse before, she shared with Nerris. He had been a bit worried about how she would react to the beast, but after a reassuring pat on the snout, the young rouncey took to her at once and accepted her lithe form without any protest. Nerris felt no anxiety in Len-Ahl when she placed her hands around his waist, but a calmness, which did much to soothe him.

After saying their farewells to Melantha, Dist's folks, and the other villagers, their party set out at a brisk canter up a path leading back to the highroad which connected Brookbel and Faerlin. Sir Enric led the way, his proud chin raised at the world. He not only brought Jhareth Kanave back to Faerlin, but the rest of the Thrillseekers, and when word got out the young captain would find himself in the midst of all the fervor that went with it.

Once they found the road, there was room to spread out a bit, and Nerris reined in his mount beside Jhareth's. "So how did this whole tiff between you and the King begin?" he asked his wiry friend.

Jhareth smirked. "It's a thrilling tale."

"In your words, I'm sure it will be."

"In truth, I've been after the Stonechaser Prophecy for some time," Jhareth said. "All the translated versions led to dead ends, so I thought why not go after the original? If I could find someone to make a direct translation, it might avail me better. It took some doing, but I finally tracked it down to be in the possession of House Klaidon. But King Maerlos was not about to let me take it across the continent looking for someone who would recognize the dialect."

Dist's eyes narrowed. "What did you do?"

"The only way I was going to get it was if it was granted to me," Jhareth said. "I happened to save the life of the King's niece, and when he granted me a boon, I asked for the Prophecy. King Maerlos stated his family was sworn long ago to hold the Prophecy in perpetuity and refused. I confess to losing my temper a bit and swiped it. Don't worry, we'll retrieve it before heading back to Faerlin Castle."

"You, lose your head?" Dist asked. "You must be getting old, Jhareth."

Jhareth shrugged. "Perhaps. I had been after the Stonechaser Prophecy ever since we separated, and I was inches from securing it. But unlike back in the day, I didn't have you two to hold me in check."

"Wait, you saved the life of his Majesty's niece?" Nerris asked. "Do tell, Jhareth. You can't throw that out there and not elaborate."

"I was staying at court when I was invited to go out riding with the King's brother and his family," Jhareth said. "One thing led to another and Lady Nolota's horse spooked, and went out of control. She was heading straight for the cliffs, but I was fortunately able to reach her in time and subdue her mount. A stroke of luck which put me over the top with the King."

Nerris rolled his eyes. In his experience, Jhareth never believed in trusting to luck. He was not about to take that story at face value, but did not want to say anything in front of their honor guard. Dist didn't look like he believed him either, but one thing which had not wavered after all these years was their trust in him. However devious Jhareth could be, he would never intentionally lead them or himself down a bad path.

Jhareth retold his tale that night after they made camp for the benefit of Sir Enric and his men. The story had grown to involve a poisonous snake, a gang of cutthroats, and Lady Nolota hanging off the edge of the cliff, with only Jhareth brave enough to climb down and lift her to safety. These embellishments enthralled his audience, who hooted and applauded as they ate their supper and cleaned their armor by the campfire.

As the tale ended, Nerris noticed Len-Ahl slip off into the trees. He assumed she needed to attend to private female business, but when she didn't return he grew curious. Excusing himself, he followed her steps into the forest. Once out of earshot of the camp, he spotted a small glade ahead, lit by moonlight. Len-Ahl stood in the center, and she was not alone. A small girl, no more than eleven or twelve, with flowing dark hair and an earth brown dress, stood with her. They talked in hushed voices in a dialect which sounded like it was being sung rather than spoken.

They turned to face him as they entered the glade, and Len-Ahl smiled. The girl averted her gaze and skipped off a few feet, where she knelt to examine a flower. "What's going on?" Nerris said.

"We will be leaving the forest soon," Len-Ahl said. "I came to say farewell."

"Do you know this girl?" he asked.

"You can see her?"

"Of course I can see her," Nerris said. "She's right there. Who is she? Where are her parents?"

"Oh, she has no name," Len-Ahl said. "Most men cannot behold her, for they no longer believe in the spirits around them. Some say with their self-built cities and boundaries, they no longer have the ability to see beyond their own world. Tell me, Nerris, do you believe?"

"You mean, like magic?" he asked. "For the most part. I mean, I've seen way too much in my life to not believe there are other forces at work aside from what we see. But you're asking me about spirits and gods?"

"Yes." Len-Ahl glanced at the girl. "And faeries."

"You're telling me this girl is—"

"A maiden of the woods," she said. "All forests have them. A spirit that watches over, nourishes, protects all who dwell within. All who believe."

"Like in that song?" Nerris asked.

"Just like the song."

The girl turned to Nerris and glanced up at him with big doe eyes. He gave her a closer look now, and saw the dress she wore was not spun from wool or cloth, but made from the leaves of the trees themselves. Her hair, while lustrous, also contained twigs and dirt.

"It is all right," Len-Ahl told the shy girl. "Nerris is a friend."

The girl held out a tentative hand, and Nerris took it. He helped her to her feet, and she smiled at him. The girl giggled and fled the glade, disappearing into trees and darkness. Out of the corner of his eyes, Nerris sensed rapid movement all around them. Try as he might, he could not see who was there, but could hear rustling, laughing, singing. He had experienced a similar sensation once before: that night in Yahd's Walk, when something had run off the cultists of the Tattered Man. The same serene feeling overcame him, and instead of looking for the cause of the ruckus, he gazed into Len-Ahl's eyes and smiled.

Len-Ahl nodded. "Let us return to our companions," she said. "You have been blessed with a gift this night, Nerris."

Coming upon the campfire, the horses and tents seemed a bit mundane compared to what he had just left behind. But Nerris tried to keep that serene feeling with him as long as possible. Len-Ahl was right; he had been given a gift. He realized whatever they had heard, whether spirits or faery folk, were always watching. There were forces which could combat the darkness within and without.

As they broke camp in the morning, Nerris related the events of the previous night to his friends. "Faeries. Really?" Jhareth asked with a smirk.

"We've been up and down the roads together and you've both seen the same things I've seen," Nerris said. "We've encountered sorcery and magic and odd beasts before. Are faeries so unbelievable?"

"I suppose not," Dist said. "We just find it a little hard to believe you and Len-Ahl sneaked off to discuss faeries in the dark for so long."

"We were only gone a few minutes," Nerris said.

"Nerris, you were gone an hour," Jhareth said.

"Impossible," Nerris said. "There's no chance it was that long. Anyhow, exactly what do you think my relationship with Len-Ahl is?"

Dist shrugged. "You tell us."

"It's not like you're thinking."

"This girl has decided to leave the safety of the home she's known all her life to follow you around like a little puppy," Jhareth said. "No offense to Len-Ahl. She's a sweet one, and lovely too. But that speaks of more than friendship to me. So tell me, what are we supposed to think?"

Nerris slung his bedroll over his shoulder and marched toward his horse. "Think whatever you want. It won't change the truth."

The following afternoon, they came upon the highroad. A gnarled, hollow oak marked the interchange, with signs nailed to it letting travelers know which direction to go for their chosen destination. Jhareth dismounted and strode over to the oak, reaching down into its hollow recesses to pull out a wooden box, which he opened to reveal a set of weathered scrolls.

"The Stonechaser Prophecy," he said. "I hid it here because I didn't want it taken off of me if I got caught."

"Seems sensible," Dist said, taking the box from Jhareth. "You really think these ancient things tell where a great treasure lies?"

"From what I remember, a treasure whose price is beyond measure," Nerris said.

Jhareth frowned. "To tell you the truth, I'm kind of hoping it's a treasure whose price we _can_ measure."

Dist handed the box to the captain. "It's all in your protection now, Sir Enric."

Enric sighed with relief. "Now my task is truly complete."

Jhareth grinned. "I don't know, Sir Knight. Who knows what kind of daring exploits lie between us and our fair capital?"

Dist laughed. "What could go wrong in the Stretch? Once we exit the forest, it's desolate moors from here to the coast. There's a reason people call it The Bores."

It took them a couple more days riding west, but they came to the edge of the Great Oak Forest. A small brook ran to the south, past the tree line, but the bridge was in disrepair.

"On the way here, we had to lead our mounts across the brook," Sir Enric said. "Don't worry, it's not deep."

They dismounted, and Nerris glanced back at Len-Ahl as she walked toward the edge of the forest, humming a lilting tune. His encounter with the maiden of the woods a few nights past caused him to think about the song they had danced to, _Maiden in the Willow_. However, Len-Ahl did not drop to her death when she cleared the trees and stepped into the sunlight. She merely gazed to the western horizon as a breeze wafted through her shining hair, a look of wonder on her face.

"It is so empty," she said, glancing at the moors ahead and the blue sky above.

Nerris had to disagree with her on that point. Out there in the world was anything but emptiness, which was both relieving and dispiriting. He felt as if he was watching the slow death of innocence, but he had to admit he was glad to be in the strange girl's company. Whatever lay ahead, he would help her however he could as the wide world claimed another.

# Chapter Sixteen

THE TRIP FROM the Great Oak Forest to Faerlin was uneventful. Their party ran into a bit of luck and made it in time to shelter at the Kennels, the seat of House Hallsworth, as a ferocious storm blew in. The castle derived its name from the faithful greyhound which adorned their banners. Hallsworth lands were in the shadow of Faerlin, and the house owed its loyalties directly to the King.

Lady Ceresa lived at court, so it was her steward who opened the gates for them when Sir Enric cited King's business. Lest they be kept unduly from a brisk arrival at the capital, everyone agreed to keep the Thrillseekers' identities secret. Nerris had never met the steward, or much of anyone from the Kennels that he could recall, and it was easy to pretend they were mere hired swords.

Len-Ahl tensed as the gates closed behind them. Nerris realized she had never been inside a castle before, and suspected the walls made her feel a bit trapped.

"Are you doing all right?" he asked.

She nodded. "It is just dead in here. There is no life in stone like in the trees."

"Wait until Faerlin," Nerris said. "The entire city is enclosed by walls."

"The walls hinder the winds. I have trouble hearing the call of Paral."

"Who?"

"Paral, King of the Wind," she said. "It is he who my magic comes from."

"A wind cleric. So that's what you are."

Nerris vaguely recalled talk of elemental wizards from throughout his travels. Most of them were gone, and those who remained tended to live alone in remote locations. Their orders had long since scattered, though Yagolhan had housed a fair few sects of earth clerics. Their order had lasted the longest, but he knew that might not be true for much longer. When he had hidden out in Palehorse, it was rumored that Qabala had captured their leader, a Nateus who had tutored Prince Lahnel, and intended to stamp out their presence for good.

"I am many things," Len-Ahl said, "but yes, it is through the spirit of Paral that I learned my craft. There used to be orders for all the elements, back in the days when most humans still had the inherent ability to sense the faery realm. But then men cut down their forests and raided the earth to put up cities of stone and timber, and the orders dwindled. I fear they are all but gone now."

"The earth clerics remain," Nerris said. "They were a functioning order until about thirty years ago. But that means there are people out there who can bend water and fire to their will as well."

"Yes," Len-Ahl said. "Those who choose the wind and open skies as their vocation seek out Paral. The earth belongs to Gobe, water to Nixsa, and fire to Jinn. Those were the physical elements. Those devoted to the spiritual elements never had orders; the spirits of those elements lack names or visual representation."

"Spiritual elements?"

"Thought, reason, knowledge, and desire," she said. "You will see when the Stonechaser Prophecy is translated. Those words are the work of Angelica, Queen of the Faeries."

"Are you telling me those scrolls are written in the language of the faeries?" Nerris asked.

Len-Ahl shrugged. "You will see."

The storm let up in the morning, and they were able to get underway, making the last leg of their journey to Faerlin. The terrain grew hillier the farther west they rode. The northern coast of the Arm was laden with hills and cliffs. After another two days on the road, they arrived at Faerlin around midday.

The capital of Faerna sprawled against the coast. Mount Tamelk stood on the north coast, sheltering part of the city from south-blowing storms. Faerlin was the trading hub of the Aristian Sea, and housed a great many people. Ships from all over Tormalia littered the harbor, and pallid smoke rose in plumes from thousands of chimneys. Faerlin Castle rested on the foothills of the mountain, elevated above the rest of the city. The blue-and-gold kingfisher sigil of House Klaidon flew on the ramparts, billowing in the breeze.

As they entered through the east gate, Nerris could feel Len-Ahl suck in her breath. Unlike the sleepy village they had left behind, the activity here never ended. Carts and carriages lumbered down city streets. A layabout begged them for spare coins. On the other side of the road, a man with a scarf over his face scooped up horse dung with a shovel. And a street corner, two men engaged in furtive argument over some personal dispute until an old woman in the house above opened a window and scattered them by dumping the contents of her chamber pot onto the street.

"This is more people than I have seen in my life," Len-Ahl said. "Are they all this noisy?"

"In a city this big, you have to be noisy to get anyone to pay attention to you," Jhareth said. "We'll take you down to the marketplace tomorrow. Then you'll see some real chaos."

Upon arriving at the castle's main gate, Sir Enric hailed the sentries, who admitted them at once. Back at the Kennels, Enric had sent a rider onward, to inform the castle of their impending arrival. Because of that, they were greeted in the bailey by a formal retinue: a dozen men-at-arms, another half-dozen servants, two of the King's cavaliers and an old man in a silk robe, who had a mischievous look about him. Nerris couldn't help but smile when he laid eyes on the man.

"That's Lord Tarlan Croffer of Green Rock, steward of Faerlin," Nerris told Len-Ahl. "It's been years since I've seen that old cuss."

The Croffer family traditionally handled the day-to-day issues of the capital, though they were styled as lords. They even had their own keep on Green Rock, an island out in the bay, which oversaw the ships coming and going from the harbor.

"Oh, mighty Thrillseekers!" Tarlan gesticulated before them. "It is surely an act of divine will which finds all of you here together once more."

Nerris bit his lower lip and glanced at Dist and Jhareth to see if they were having as hard a time keeping a straight face. They were.

"And it is fitting you make your return here in Faerlin, the Fair City," Tarlan continued, "a city which is the apex of the known world, brightest jewel of the Tormalian crown, or mayhap the largest pimple on the continent's ass. Whichever point of view you take."

Everyone had a laugh at that, even the stoic cavaliers. "Greetings to you, Tarlan," Nerris said. "You haven't changed a bit. Still the soul of acerbic formality."

Tarlan winked at him. "Of course. I wouldn't want to offend the legendary Thrillseekers. The world might stop turning."

Jhareth eyed the servants. "I suppose we're to get our insides ripped out and stuffed for King Maerlos."

"You know formalities," Tarlan said. "We can't let wayfaring slobs in to see his Majesty, after all."

"I see your mouth is as big as ever too, old man," Jhareth said.

Dist chuckled. "You're one to talk."

Several female servants approached them and led Len-Ahl away as they chattered amongst themselves. She cast a panicked glance back at Nerris, but he smiled to let her know it was all right. Sir Enric and his men said their farewells for the moment as they went off to make their report to the King.

The remainder of the servants, along with the cavaliers, led them to the castle steams, where they were bathed and fitted into formal clothing. Nerris had long ago discovered an enjoyment in keeping himself tidy and dressing up for formal occasions as the situation commanded. Jhareth sometimes had to play at nobility to get whatever he was after, and considered the inconvenience a necessary costume. Dist, however, was working class to the bone, and swore and made grouchy threats every time a servant tried to wash his face or brush dried mud from his hair.

"It's just as well," Jhareth told him. "You were starting to look like a walking pigpen. Much longer on the road with you and I would have thrown you into a river myself."

"Put a hand on me and you won't get it back, Jhareth," Dist said between clenched teeth as a servant lifted his arm to scrub the underside.

"You know you have to go through this every time we come here, so why rage about it?" Nerris asked.

"It's the principle."

"You're just fighting for the sake of fighting," Jhareth said.

"Principle," Dist insisted.

After bathing, their hair was trimmed. Nerris insisted the ponytail he had been sporting for the past three years be shorn, and he also asked them to shave his beard. Jhareth and Dist already had much shorter hair than him, but Jhareth did get his own whiskers trimmed a bit.

They were given nice doublets and hose to change into next. Nerris sported green with gold trim, Dist red with orange and Jhareth in black and yellow. "Nice of them to color coordinate us," Dist commented as the cavaliers led them to the antechamber in front of the great hall.

"I don't care if they put feathers in our collars," Jhareth said, "as long as I get this matter with King Maerlos cleared up so we can hunt some treasure."

"At least try to be courteous," Nerris said. "He _is_ the King."

"Yes," Dist said. "Don't be an ass."

Jhareth put his hand over his heart. "Maerlos is our friend. When he went back on his word, he hurt my feelings."

Nerris rolled his eyes. "Right."

A few moments later, Tarlan entered with Len-Ahl on his arm. She had been gowned in an elegant white dress, and she curtsied before them. Her hair was tied into a bun on top of her head, with a few golden wisps rolling past her temple. Nerris stared at her for a moment, not believing the figure she cut in such finery.

Len-Ahl smiled. "Well, Nerris?"

He wasn't aware he had been asked a question until Dist prompted him by stepping on his foot. "It's... different," he managed to get out.

Jhareth sighed in disgust and strode forward, taking Len-Ahl's hand. "My dear faermaid, you look exquisite. Few mortal men have laid eyes on a goddess, but if I ever do, I will find them wanting next to your radiance this day." He looked back at Nerris. "Is that closer to the mark?"

Len-Ahl blushed, and Nerris tried to find his voice. Before he could, Tarlan cleared his throat. "My faermaid, gentlemen, and you as well, Jhareth... we need to prepare for our entrance." He nodded to Len-Ahl and took his place in the lead, right in front of the door.

Len-Ahl took Nerris's arm and led him to stand behind Tarlan as Dist and Jhareth fell in line behind them. One of the double doors opened a crack, and a servant whispered that the throne room was ready to receive them.

"Aren't you going to take Dist's arm, Jhareth?" Tarlan asked without even turning around.

"One of these days that mouth of yours will be the end of you," Jhareth said.

"I've lasted sixty-two years this summer," Tarlan said. "I'll lose my ability to speak coherently in the coming years. If my mouth is going to kill me, it had best hurry up." With a grin, he gestured to the guards, who opened the doors for him.

Tarlan strode into the great hall, with Len-Ahl and the Thrillseekers keeping in step. The King's throne room was vast. A large banner bearing the Klaidon coat of arms hung behind the thrones, which were situated on a raised dais. The gallery stood on either side of the purple carpet, where many lords, ladies, and courtiers had gathered to feast their eyes on the Thrillseekers.

With a quick glance, Nerris noticed some faces he hadn't seen in years. Lord Joddeth Blackwine, Sir Gillamo Tosset, and Lady Ceresa Hallsworth were to the left. On the right, he spied the castle's master-at-arms Sir Felton Lomont, who had a hand on the shoulder of Ceder Duchois, the son of Lord Laque Duchois. The Duchois family had made the unfortunate error of being on the losing side during the Liberation of Agos. When all was said and done, King Maerlos had taken Ceder as his ward and hostage. The Lord's younger son was currently in residence with King Owen in Alicanos. The boys had been children when taken into custody, but Ceder now looked older than Nerris had when he attended Gauntlet.

All eight of the King's cavaliers were on hand to welcome them, standing stoic at the bottom of the dais. The Queen's seat was empty, but King Maerlos sat the throne himself. It had been about four years, but his Majesty was beginning to look his age. Nerris had never known him when he was the fierce, young king who had led the forces of the eastern kingdoms against a united Yagolhan and slain Yahd the Enslaver in single combat. The silver hair and beard he remembered, but his eyes looked tired, a bit more sunken than before and many new wrinkles lined his face. Yet with his regal robes and golden crown upon his head, when he stood he looked every bit the respectable, impressive figure he had always been.

Dist and Jhareth moved up to stand next to Nerris and Len-Ahl, and they all dropped to a knee and lowered their heads when the King stood. Tarlan stood off to the side, his arms open as if presenting them to the court.

"Your Majesty, my esteemed lords and ladies, I give you the Thrillseekers," he said. "Nerris Palada, Dist Schies, and Jhareth Kanave, along with their companion, the faermaid Len-Ahl."

"It is truly a joyous day for the kingdom of Faerna," King Maerlos said in his deep voice. "I did not realize when I sent Sir Enric to request the presence of Jhareth Kanave that our favorite sons would be returned to us, whole once more. Rise, Thrillseekers, and you as well, Len-Ahl. You have returned to us during a time of great confusion and turmoil, and it would do this old king's heart well if he could at the very least look upon you."

Nerris and his companions rose, and he looked into King Maerlos's blue eyes. What had he meant by a time of great confusion? With another glance, Nerris noticed several things he had not before. For one thing, he did not see Queen Nelisa anywhere, or Prince Camion. Though he had thought the cavaliers present in full force, he now noted he had been mistaken. Six of the eight knights were present, though with their helms visored he could not tell which ones. He could not tell which two were missing.

"It pleases all of us to see you again, your Majesty," Jhareth said. "The court has always been generous in its hospitality, and if there is anything we can do to serve you, you need only command it."

"The Thrillseekers are always welcome in Faerlin," King Maerlos said. "I am pleased you have returned, Jhareth. I never meant for any rift to form between us, and there is a matter of negotiations to be discussed privily."

"There is most certainly that also."

"Careful," Dist muttered.

Maerlos smiled. "Ah, impudence of youth," he said, "or is that merely a Thrillseeker conceit?"

Jhareth smiled back. "It is the privilege of friendship, your Majesty. I am eager to put certain matters behind us as well."

"Then I believe we shall adjourn for the day," Maerlos said, turning to the gallery. "I trust your eyes have had their fill. Behold, the return of the Thrillseekers. We will celebrate this occasion tonight with a grand feast, but for now I shall retire with my old friends to discuss matters of import."

The crowd knew a dismissal when they heard one, and filed out of the great hall. Mutters of excitement filled the air as the gallery emptied, and the King waved off several of his cavaliers. Two stood by to escort them from the hall, but one man lifted his visor and approached Nerris.

He recognized the knight's crooked smile and clasped a gauntleted hand. "Jach," Nerris said, "still keeping his Majesty safe, I trust?"

"Always," said Sir Jacey Rainwater. "I cannot believe you three are together again. We hadn't heard anything from the Thrillseekers in three years, and then Jhareth shows up by himself a few months ago. No one knew what to make of it."

Sir Jacey was reputed as the greatest knight in the kingdom, and was pretty much in line to take the place of Sir Daswell Borry as Lord Commander once the old knight retired from his duty. Nerris, Dist and Jhareth's association with the man they referred to as Jach dated all the way back to the Liberation of Agos, when they were still students at Gauntlet.

"We'll have to catch up later," Nerris said. "His Majesty looks like he wants to discuss something with us."

The two cavaliers led the Thrillseekers, King Maerlos, Tarlan, and Len-Ahl through the corridors until they arrived at the King's chambers. Tarlan showed them in and made sure they were comfortable as Maerlos entered his bedchamber to put on less formal clothing.

Upon his return, he took a seat across from them with a grunt. "I could swear that crown gets heavier with each passing year," he said. "Maybe my strength is waning."

"You still look robust to us, your Majesty," Nerris said.

"You flatter me, Nerris, but I know better. Your coming is like a ray of light peeking through rain clouds. And the clouds have been very dark lately." He leaned forward. "A fortnight past, my Nelisa passed on."

Nerris's eyes widened and Dist gasped, while Jhareth stood in surprise.

"The Queen?" Jhareth asked. "How?"

"It was sudden," Maerlos said with some effort. "One moment she was discussing her bath with one of her handmaidens. The girl left the room, and when she returned, Nelisa was unconscious. By the time a doctor was brought in, she was gone."

Nerris let out his breath. "I am so sorry, your Majesty. Queen Nelisa was a kind woman."

Maerlos swallowed. "It has been difficult around here, even more so since you left, Jhareth. After his mother died, Camion became enraged. He believed some conspiracy responsible, and when I could not be persuaded to his side, he packed up and left for Renoa, taking the Ristaff Brothers with him."

That answered the question of the missing cavaliers. Seymorr and Baramon Ristaff served the royal family, but their ancestral home was in Renoa.

"A conspiracy?" Dist asked.

"Paranoia," Maerlos said. "Camion has been like that lately. He, and others, are becoming a bit unsettled because of problems we have been having with the Church of Clystam. I am old now, and so was Nelisa. She lived a full life and died with her family around her. Everyone should be so lucky."

"Trouble with the Church?" Nerris asked. "Would this have anything to do with the lack of priests throughout the kingdom?"

Maerlos nodded. "There is unrest in certain sects of the population, who believe Clystam no longer answers our prayers. Some have even been in favor of finding a new god to pray to, and the Church took steps to curb these ideas. When they began to get violent, I had to step in. Ever since, there has been discord between the royal family and the Dominarch. There are those who believe Nelisa being taken from me was punishment from Clystam for opposing his will."

"That's ridiculous," Nerris said.

"Wait," Jhareth said. "As exciting as internal politics are, we have some unfinished business, your Majesty."

"Jhareth, have some respect," Dist said. "The man lost his wife."

Maerlos held up his hand. "It is all right, Dist. A king should always keep his word. My family has always held the Stonechaser Prophecy in perpetuity. We were sworn to protect it, and our agreement tied in to the Church as well. After all that strife, I had no wish to antagonize them further. That is why I hastily refused your boon, Jhareth."

Jhareth sighed. "I see. Well, it seems I've hit a stroke of luck, then. You are perfectly within your rights to let me have it now."

Dist furrowed his brow. "Only members of the royal family can take possession of the scrolls. King Maerlos can't let you have it. Ancient treaties take precedence over boons asked by scoundrels like you."

"If I may," Jhareth said irritably, holding up a hand to Dist's face. "Your Majesty, your late aunt was the wife of the late Lord Bower, was she not?"

"That is true," Maerlos said.

"She gave birth to Rienna Bower, your cousin," Jhareth continued. "Our dear Rienna married a man named Derrin Palada, whose son sits before us." Jhareth motioned to Nerris. "I believe he qualifies as a member of the royal family."

"Me?" Nerris asked. "Be serious, Jhareth."

However, Maerlos stroked his beard in thought. "Do not be too hasty to discount your lineage, Nerris. I do believe Jhareth has found a way to acquire what he desires without asking me to break my word as a Klaidon."

"I thought that tied it up neatly, myself," Jhareth said, grinning.

"Very well," Maerlos said. "I will lend you the Stonechaser Prophecy, for all the good that lot of gibberish will do you." He stood. "But for now, we celebrate. We have been planning this feast since Enric's outrider reached us with the news of your reunion. Tonight, we will make merry, toast to the fallen, and pray for the absent. Best make ready."

The Thrillseekers and Len-Ahl stood and bowed to the King and he dismissed them. Tarlan escorted them to their chambers, winding through the depths of Faerlin Castle. Dist and Jhareth batted around leads on translating the prophecy, but Nerris pondered what the King had said. There could only be trouble afoot if Maerlos was at odds with the Church of Clystam, and the people were taking sides. He had been relieved to come home after carving his way through war torn Yagolhan, but more and more it seemed the peaceful home of his childhood was not so tranquil after all.

# Chapter Seventeen

WHILE PREPARING FOR the banquet later that evening, Nerris was graced with a visit from someone he had not seen in years. As he looked himself over in the mirror, making sure the good clothing he had been given was not wrinkled, a knock sounded on the door of his chambers. A good-looking youth with short brown hair entered, dressed in a purple tunic identifying him as a knight.

Nerris grinned and clasped hands with the young man. "Cousin," he said, "I was wondering when I would see your face."

"I've been away," Sir Astoren Palada replied. "I got back to the city today." Astoren was the son of Nerris's uncle Tettias and heir to the castle of Brookbel back in the Great Oak Forest. He had squired at court, however, and still lived in Faerlin.

"You're looking well," Nerris told him. "Last time I saw you, you were squiring under Sir Caros. It seems you've changed your raiment since then."

Astoren presented his tunic. "What can I say? It wasn't easy, but I fooled them into giving me a knighthood."

On their way to the banquet hall, they reminisced about the days when the Thrillseekers first appeared at court. Nerris had known nothing about his connection to the nobility back then, and Astoren was the first family he had ever met, aside from his mother. Though separated a good five years, they developed a fond rapport, and Nerris was glad to see his cousin.

"What was so important you almost missed our triumphant return?" Nerris asked.

Astoren stopped in his tracks and lost his smile at once. He beckoned Nerris into the shadows. "Truthfully?"

Nerris nodded. He had meant his question in jest, but Astoren looked almost afraid to speak.

"Strange things have been happening," he whispered. "I trust you heard about the Queen's death? And maybe about the Church's part in it? Well, there was a connection, but the Dominarch had nothing to do with it. Prince Camion asked me to help escort him to Renoa, to be under the protection of his mother's family. He feared those responsible would come after him next in a further attempt to goad King Maerlos into moving against the Church of Clystam."

"Who would want to put the King at odds with the Church?"

Astoren glanced in the direction of the banquet hall. "You'll meet him soon. The Prince's information points to the new prime minister, Congir."

"Congir?" Nerris asked. "I admit I'm not familiar with recent Faerlin politics, but what happened to Lord Bower?"

"Back in Ladstone, relieved of his duties," Astoren said, "shortly after Congir arrived at court."

"Who is he?"

"Nobody is sure," Astoren said. "King Maerlos has always allowed certain commoners on his council, better to keep in touch with the needs of the people. Congir was supposedly leader of the city's smithy guild, but he has talked little of forges or metalwork since being appointed. I, and others, believe this to be a front. He's been ingratiating himself with King Maerlos since his first day."

"Really?" Nerris asked. "Then let us adjourn to the banquet. I'm eager to meet this Congir for myself and take his measure."

The nobles who permeated the banquet hall wore their best clothes, showing off their individual opulence under the mellow light of many candelabras. Musicians playing various stringed instruments occupied a dais on the east side of the room, with the King's table to the north. The hall filled with the sound of spirited conversation. Upon his entrance, two trumpeters standing on either side of the door blew a single note.

"Presenting Sir Astoren Palada of Brookbel, and Nerris Palada of the Thrillseekers," a nearby herald called.

Most in the hall went silent and stared at him as they entered. A few men standing close bowed with respect, and others approached him to clasp hands. Nerris caught the eye of King Maerlos at his table, who raised his wine glass in salute. Nerris acknowledged him with a nod. A fierce-looking man with a white beard and broad shoulders sat beside the King. He eyed Nerris as well, but made no move to welcome him.

"That's Congir," Astoren muttered. "He's not the sort you would call warm."

"I'll say."

Nerris took a closer look at the man. He was of an age with the King, and with his broad shoulders looked like he could be a blacksmith as he claimed. But was he trying to frame the Church for murder? Nerris had been at court before and been privy to all sorts of conspiracy theories. He knew he could not take them at face value, but this one was a bit more serious than the usual petty accusation.

Nerris scanned the room, searching out his friends, but the approach of a young man in a blue doublet interrupted him. Ceder Duchois was fair-faced, his tawny hair parted down the middle with bangs hanging past his eyes. Nerris extended a hand and the young ward took it, though without any warmth.

"Ceder," Nerris said. "I trust your time in Faerlin is treating you well."

"Tolerably," Ceder said. "Though I look forward to the day when the King deems my father trustworthy enough to send me back to Lakeside Keep. I long to once again fish the waters of Lake Zarseille. I have a sister I have not seen since she was an infant, and a mother whose face I have forgotten, thanks to the Liberation."

"Your father was wise to bow to Owen when King Ullas fell," Nerris said. "Otherwise, he may have died in battle as well and Zarseille would have been sacked, your family disinherited. Surely a few years away from home is a small price to pay for a family intact. That's more than I ever had."

"Nerris!" Astoren said.

He had not meant to speak harshly to Ceder, but the boy's attitude had always grated on him. Perhaps Nerris still held some resentment for all the friends he had lost in the Liberation of Agos. Lord Duchois had been the principal bannerman supporting the late King Ullas, and his forces put many of Nerris's comrades to the sword. However, none of that had been the fault of young Ceder, who had been all of six when taken away to a strange kingdom to serve as a glorified hostage.

Nerris smiled. "My apologies. Ceder, I am sure you will return home soon. After all, it has been over ten years and your father has not raised a word in defiance to King Owen. At least, not as far as I've heard. You would do well to ask King Maerlos to make a betrothal on your behalf. You are the heir to Lakeside Keep, and a marriage to a pretty noble faermaid would do much to quell any enmities that remain between Zarseille and Faerlin."

Ceder disregarded the notion with a jut of his chin. "I have no time for such things. I have found a higher calling, and merely wish to return home and spread what I have found to my own people, so they might feel as I do. My regards to the Thrillseekers." He walked away, hailing Lady Hallsworth.

"That was a little blunt," Astoren said. "Not even so much as a hello to me. I thought everyone in Tormalia loved the legendary Thrillseekers."

"No one is that legendary," Nerris said, wondering what Ceder had meant by a higher calling. Perhaps he meant to join the Church.

They continued into the hall, and Nerris went back to looking for his friends. He spotted Jhareth first, in animated conversation with the King's brother, Lord Derian. A young woman with blonde hair and a toothy smile gripped Jhareth's arm as if afraid he might fly away. For Jhareth's part, he fidgeted as if he wished he could, but for an inability to sprout wings.

Astoren followed his gaze. "Lady Nolota, the King's niece," he said.

"That's Nolota?" Nerris asked. The charming adolescent he had met during his first visit to court had grown into a fully endowed young woman. He realized she had been fourteen the last time he saw her. "Jhareth saved her life, did he?"

"Yes," Astoren said, "and now the young faermaid is absolutely smitten with him. The whole court knows. All she's done since he left is stay in her quarters and moon over him. She doesn't even have the heart to go riding anymore."

"That may have something to do with almost riding off a cliff the last time," Nerris said. As he watched Jhareth try his best to ignore Nolota while being gracious to her father, his first instinct was to assert that Nolota could never be with someone as far below her station as Jhareth. But as he had found out four years before, noblemen were practically willing to throw their daughters at the Thrillseekers if they could get a folk hero in the family. If it were his wish to marry, he knew King Maerlos would give Jhareth any title he wished in order to make their union legitimate.

He shook his head. Jhareth would never accept a life like that. Not for long, at least. Poor Lady Nolota was in for some heartache in the near future.

Jhareth received his reprieve when the herald announced the banquet ready to begin. The guests shuffled toward their tables, and Nerris made his way to the King's dais, joining Jhareth. Dist joined them a few moments later, and Len-Ahl appeared soon after. She took Nerris's arm and he led her up the steps and pulled her chair out for her. She gave a shy curtsy to the King before sitting.

"My dear faermaid, the sight of you in that dress releases the vestiges of my youth," King Maerlos said with aplomb. "You must honor us with the tale which led to you sharing the road with the Thrillseekers."

"Actually, it was Nerris who I fell in with, your Majesty," she said. "My home was lost to fire. My head was swimming, I did not know what to do. Not until Nerris appeared and offered his aid."

"Truly the Thrillseekers watch over all of us, together or apart," the man called Congir said.

"I apologize," Maerlos said as if remembering Congir's presence. "The four of you have not met the new prime minister. This is the honorable Congir."

"A pleasure," Nerris said as Dist and Jhareth made their bows. Len-Ahl merely looked downward, engrossed in the multitude of silverware presented before her. Congir did not acknowledge the Thrillseekers at all, but stared at Len-Ahl for a few moments with a look Nerris could not quite place. It was as if he could not fathom how someone like her came to be here, seated with the King. Finally, the prime minister averted his eyes and coughed, taking his place next to Maerlos.

"Jhareth, I see my niece finally cornered you," Maerlos said.

Jhareth emitted a nervous chuckle. "Yes, your Majesty. Your brother has been most gracious in his thanks, and Lady Nolota is a sweetheart. They've both made some, ah, interesting proposals to me."

Dist covered up his snort with a napkin as the banquet's first course arrived. Choice portions of beef and venison came their way, as well as exotic fruits not native to Faerna, such as oranges and pomegranates. Their wine glasses were filled as well, and Dist attacked the meal with gusto. Nerris helped himself to some venison, as Jhareth took a long draught of Dellish Red.

Len-Ahl stared at the wall of meat before her a bit apprehensively, until a serving girl filled her plate with orange slices, grapes, dates, pistachios, and figs. She looked up at the King, who gave her a knowing wink.

"Sir Enric made a point to mention your unique dining preferences to me," he said.

Len-Ahl smiled. "I am grateful, your Majesty."

"You don't know what you're missing," Dist told her. "This is the best meal I've ever had."

"You better not let your mother hear you said that," Jhareth said.

"My mother never had such fine foods to work with."

The King, Dist, and Jhareth made amicable chatter with the other council members seated with them as the feast wore on, but Nerris's energies were focused on Congir. The guildmaster had been quiet, even guarded, since laying eyes on Len-Ahl. Nerris decided to acquaint himself with the prime minister.

"Lord Congir, you've not said much this evening," he said. "Are spectacles such as this so common in Faerlin it now bores you?"

Congir smiled. "It is not that, young Nerris. Much like yourself, I grew up common. I am still acclimating myself to the ways of the court."

"You must learn quickly. I'm told you've been on the council a short time, but now you're prime minister."

"A bit of an exaggeration," Congir said. "True, I have not been on the council as long as some, but it has been two years since I came to court. More than enough time to demonstrate my talents to his Majesty."

"I see." Congir hid it well, but Nerris had the benefit of extensive travel in Tormalia, and the prime minister definitely had an accent. Perhaps western Agos or northern Yagolhan. Regardless, he got the distinct feeling the man was not from Faerna. What exactly that meant, Nerris could not say. And what was his issue with Len-Ahl? She seemed to be going to equal lengths to ignore Congir's presence at the table.

Nerris shook his head. None of this was his business. He should let the nobles sort out their own problems. If it were any other kingdom, he would let it be. But this involved his cousin, the King, the Prince, people he cared for very much.

Once all the courses had been served the guests ate and drank their fill, the dancing began. Lady Nolota once again sought out Jhareth to coax him onto the floor, and Nerris glanced at Len-Ahl, thinking it would not be the worst thing if she wanted to dance with him again. But she was moving fruit around her plate with her fork, seemingly lost in thought.

When the councilman seated on Nerris's other side stood and wandered off, Dist walked over and took his chair. "Does anything about this seem off to you?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, normally there's a blessing said in the name of Clystam before a feast like this," Dist said.

"You're right," Nerris said. "Usually the King keeps a few priests around for rites and sermons as needed, but I haven't seen a single one since we got here. The Church must be angrier with the King than we realized."

"Something's going on," Dist said. "I heard a few guards talking. Apparently the Dominarch is on his way here as we speak, to take a meeting with his Majesty."

Fresh from a waltz with Nolota, Jhareth sauntered over and put his arms around his friends. "Gentlemen," he said, "let's not forget why we're here. We need to find a way to decipher those scrolls and get away from this place as soon as possible. These royal courts have a way of pulling you in."

"Astoren was saying something about our dear Congir trying to coax the King into a move against the Church," Nerris said. "This is serious business, Jhareth. Could you imagine what would happen if tensions were to escalate? A war between Maerlos's men and the Church's loyalists. The country would be torn apart."

And he could think of a certain someone in Palehorse who would love for that to happen as she prepared an eastward march. Could Qabala, improbable as it seemed, be connected to this?

"All right," Jhareth said, "so what can we do about it?"

"We stay a while and find out more," Nerris said. "At least until the Dominarch gets here. We can't just walk away."

# Chapter Eighteen

MUCH CLAMOR FOLLOWED once it became known the Dominarch was on his way. The Thrillseekers were almost forgotten as the court moved on to the next big event, and Nerris felt it was just as well. Now that they had a chance to breathe, Jhareth began his work on the Stonechaser Prophecy and Nerris took the opportunity to introduce Len-Ahl to city life.

He took her to the harbor to show her the fishing skiffs, pleasure barges, and merchantmen which sailed in and out of Faerlin Harbor on a daily basis, all under the watchful eye of the island known as Green Rock, where the Croffers kept vigil over the Sea Gate. He took her to Tam's Market, the center of commerce in Faerlin, and all the chaos which came with the constant haggling. They next visited the University, where scholars walked the well-kept grounds studying scrolls and books as warm spring breezes blew up from the south. He even brought her to Loskin's Square, the Thieves' Market, to show her the shadier side of Faernan society.

Len-Ahl was becoming more accustomed to being around people, and she no longer clung to Nerris's side like a nervous child. At Loskin's Square, she darted from shop to shop well ahead of him, looking at the wares which gave the area its name: rope, grappling hooks, knives, and if you knew the right passwords, specialized lock picks. Nerris still kept a watchful eye on her; people were known to disappear into this part of town, voluntarily or not.

They were on no timetable, so they were able to visit most of the city's landmarks over the course of a fortnight. Nerris figured it wouldn't be long before Len-Ahl found a place she wanted to stay, and he and his friends would be off to look for the Exemplus. Perhaps King Maerlos would find a place at court for her. He was glad she was enjoying herself, but again felt a certain pang on the inside, much stronger than he had back in Haladast.

On one sunny afternoon, he took her on a picnic to the slope of Mount Tamelk, north of the city. A breeze descended on them, and Len-Ahl closed her eyes, breathing with the wind and letting it blow her golden hair at will. As Nerris set up their meal, she busied herself with her fipple flute. She was almost done. It had been hollowed out, and holes fashioned along the top.

"I shall have to play for you when I am done," she said, catching one of his glances.

"I'd play with you if I had a lute," Nerris said. "I learned how the last time I was at court."

"That would be lovely." Len-Ahl smiled. "Will Dist and Jhareth sing for us, do you think?"

"Jhareth never had any time for music," Nerris said, "and Dist couldn't carry a tune if it had handles. I'm afraid it would only be us."

"That is nice too. But I sense our time is drawing nigh. You wish to hunt for this new treasure with your friends, do you not?"

"It's not that I don't want you along," Nerris said, "but it can be dangerous out there. We can only do so much to protect you."

"And what would you have me do?" Len-Ahl asked. "Where do I belong, if not with you?"

Nerris had no real objection to her coming along, but for the simple fact that she was a woman, and one he had grown to like very much. He remembered his experiences with Qabala and Ketsuya, and women he loved even before them. He knew where that path led. Len-Ahl may find him interesting for a time, but eventually she would leave him like the rest. One way or the other.

Len-Ahl put a hand on his wrist. "And what is Nerris thinking about now?"

"Nothing," Nerris said. "Let's just enjoy the day. Tomorrow and its decisions can wait until after dessert."

They arrived back at Jhareth's room in Faerlin Castle later in the afternoon to find him arguing with Dist. "I can't concentrate with you nattering at me," Jhareth said.

"I'm sorry," Dist said, "I assumed when you dragged us out on this little excursion that you had some kind of plan."

"I try not to plan," Jhareth said. "I trust in the four winds to blow me toward a favorable destination."

Dist folded his arms. "I doubt you can even spell _destination_."

Nerris leaned over one of the scrolls, which was flattened on the table, held open by Jhareth's tin cups. "The castle library was no help, I take it?"

"Not one clue about what language this is," Dist said.

The parchments of the scroll were old, and had to be handled with care. Thus Jhareth had decided the original scrolls would stay here, and he would make duplicates of them to take on the road. The endeavors of his work sat on a table by the window, the fresh ink drying in the sunlight. The letters of the ancient language had a scratchy quality to them, as if carved into a tree trunk rather than written on parchment.

Len-Ahl peered over Nerris's shoulder. "It is said these scrolls are the prophecy of Angelica, the Faery Queen. One would assume this is the language of the faeries."

Nerris nodded. "I knew that much the first time I encountered the prophecy at Gauntlet. Angelica traded her immortal life for the gift of foresight, or so the story goes."

"Faeries are immortal?" Dist asked.

"You misunderstand, Dist," Len-Ahl said. "To the faeries, she is not a queen like you are thinking. She is more akin to a goddess. There are those among the faeries who believe her sacrifice all those years ago has doomed them."

"Why would she make a sacrifice like that?" Nerris asked.

Len-Ahl shrugged. "It was a long time ago. No doubt she had her reasons."

"If it even happened," Jhareth said. "That doesn't get us any closer to figuring out what this means."

"Maybe not," Nerris said, "but I did ask around on our trip to the University. Years ago, there was a professor there who devoted his life to the truth behind prophecies. He desperately tried to acquire these scrolls, but was refused by the Klaidons."

"And what happened to this man?"

"He retired to his home in Orrigo," Nerris said. "Most regard prophecy as a gratuitous area of study, and scrolls such as these a mere curiosity for linguists, but they said he seemed confident he would be able to read them. If so, then we need to go to Agos."

Dist scratched his chin. "I was hoping we could return to Haladast while we sorted this out, but it would be nice to visit Gauntlet again."

"What's left of it." Jhareth stretched. "It's as good a lead as any, and a sight better than nothing."

"It will give you a chance to get away from the King's niece as well," Dist said, grinning.

Jhareth blanched. "Don't remind me. The fool girl thinks she can somehow make me her husband."

"Never underestimate the determination of young women," Len-Ahl muttered.

"It's not just her," Jhareth said. "Her father wants the match as well. I keep telling them I have no title to speak of, and it would bring disgrace to the royal house for Nolota to marry beneath her. I couldn't do that to King Maerlos."

"Oh, is that the reason?" Nerris asked.

"Why else would I turn her down?" Jhareth sighed. "I should have chosen a haughtier noblewoman to focus on, but her sister was visiting Klaigard at the time."

Nerris and Dist exchanged a puzzled glance. "What do you mean by that?" Dist asked.

"Hmm?" Jhareth said. "Oh, nothing."

"Jhareth, what aren't you telling us?" Nerris asked, moving toward him.

Jhareth turned to face him. "I told you, I—" He sprang away, but was not fast enough to avoid Dist, who tackled him to the floor and pinned an arm behind his back. Jhareth shrieked in protest as Dist applied pressure.

Len-Ahl covered her mouth with her hand. "Is he hurt?"

"He's all right," Nerris said. "Sometimes this is the only way to get anything out of him."

Dist bent Jhareth's arm at the elbow and wrenched up on his forearm. "Ouch!" Jhareth cried. "All right, all right, I'll talk." Dist let up, and Jhareth shoved him away. He sat back in his chair, stretching out his arm.

"Well?" Nerris asked.

"Don't rush me," Jhareth said. "I'm not proud of this."

"Will you get on with it?" Dist said.

Jhareth cleared his throat. "Remember what I told you about saving Nolota's life? Well, that may have been an exaggeration."

"You, exaggerate?" Nerris said with a straight face. "I'm stunned."

"I had to get those scrolls," Jhareth said, "and the only way to do that was to request a boon from the King. And the best way to accomplish that was to save the life of a member of the royal family. I may have spent some time in the royal stables, working with Nolota's horse. Teaching him to fear certain smells and such. And when we went out riding that day—"

"You spooked him and forced him toward that cliff." Nerris regarded him with disgust. "You put her life at risk for your own profit?"

"It went farther than I intended," Jhareth said, sounding hurt. "You know me better than that, Nerris. I have an affinity with horses, and I knew mine would be able to catch hers long before she was in any real danger. But my horse stumbled, and hers charged right off the cliff. Nolota saved her own life by rolling off right before and was able to cling to the rock face long enough for me to help her back to safety."

They sat there in silence, marveling at their friend. Finally, Dist threw his hands up and left the room. Nerris shook his head. "Jhareth, sometimes you simply amaze me." He moved toward the door himself. "As much as I'd like to stay and hear more of your depravations, I have an appointment with King Maerlos soon and should change into something more suitable."

"You won't tell him, will you?"

"What I should do is march you straight to Nolota's chambers and make you accept her proposal," Nerris said. "It seems you owe her a great debt."

Nerris returned to his own room, fuming as he pulled off his plain tunic and changed into the silks which had been provided for him. Leave it to Jhareth to sour a perfectly good experience with his shenanigans. He loved his friend, but he had to admit there were times when he couldn't stand the sight of him.

A short time later, a courtier arrived, summoning him to the King's council chamber on the west side of Faerlin Castle. As he approached the door, Nerris straightened his belt and brushed back his hair with one hand. Two guards stood outside, with Sir Jacey Rainwater on duty for the cavaliers inside. The knight led him into the drafty chamber, which opened onto a balcony overlooking the slope of Mount Tamelk. A large oaken table sat in the middle of the room, with the royal seat at its head. King Maerlos rose when Nerris entered. The prime minister stood at his side, but other than that, no other councilors were in attendance.

Maerlos gestured to him. "Nerris, I trust you're acquainted with our dear prime minister, the guildmaster Congir?"

Nerris gave him a nod. "I believe we met at the banquet, your Excellency."

Congir smiled. "It is kind of you to remember, Master Nerris."

Maerlos gestured for him to sit. "Have you had any luck with the scrolls?"

"No, but we have a lead," Nerris said. "We'll be leaving for Orrigo soon."

Maerlos nodded. "Perhaps that is for the best. But for now, let us talk of more urgent matters. I hadn't the chance to bring this up before, but all kinds of rumors have been coming in from the royal intelligence on your whereabouts recently."

Nerris frowned. He did not like where this was going.

"More to the point, battles you've commanded," Congir said. "Is it true you were given a command by the woman known as Qabala the Unbreakable?"

"I led one battle, yes," Nerris said. "I was a mercenary for her army, but I left her service months ago. Yagolhan is no longer my concern."

Maerlos frowned. "The instability of Yagolhan concerns us all. Ever since King Lahnen assumed the throne, the country has been plagued with rebellions and civil war. But with the King dead and this woman and her loyal fanatics closing ranks around Prince Lahnel, there are mutterings at an invasion of the east."

Nerris was on shaky ground, he knew. He did not want it known how close he came to staying with Qabala and serving the dark force she had taken up with. Though the Thrillseekers had always enjoyed immunity from the loyalties due the crown, he still felt he owed his king an explanation of his activities. King Maerlos had taken them in, embraced them, lauded them as national heroes, and gained mutual trust. To lie to him would be like lying to a father. That same yearning for approval, however, kept him from divulging too much. If he knew the nature of Nerris's relationship with Qabala, would that trust still be there?

"There was talk of it," he finally said. "Qabala is young, and full of righteousness. But you know the rigors which come with ruling a kingdom, your Majesty. Even if Prince Lahnel's forces were to fall tomorrow, she still needs to consolidate her power. She'll have to expunge the rats from her own house before she can look to fumigate the world. And with Yagolhan being as big as the rest of the Tormalian kingdoms put together, that is a lot of rats."

Congir chuckled. "Well said."

Maerlos sighed. "I could not bear to witness a repeat of the Enslavement War. Faerna needs new blood to take the crown and defend her people. I wish Camion was here. I fear I am too old, my ideas too archaic." He glanced out the window. "You've been out there, Nerris. You've seen it. The world is changing."

"Don't say that, your Majesty," Nerris said. "No matter how the world changes, people still remember how you slew Yahd the Enslaver. They would follow you beyond the Great Cataract, if necessary. Besides, isn't this why the Kolmian Alliance was formed?"

Maerlos smiled. "You are kind to say so. Yes, if Yagolhan were to invade, the member nations would stand with us. But if this Church situation dissolves Faernan stability, where would that leave them? We would be forced to tend to our own garden."

Nerris frowned. The King had spoken truth. Of all the countries to make up the Kolmian Alliance, Faerna was the linchpin to it all. Dellain may boast the most troops in the field, Promeha the best riders, and Hilonia the best sailors, but Faerna had the best warriors.

"Any Yagol invasion begins with Agos," Congir added. "For hundreds of years, ever since the Hilonians smashed the northern Yagol fleet, they have had no power in the Aristian Sea. And the Agosseans were dealt a grievous blow during the Enslavement War, not to mention the Liberation weakening their military power even further. If Qabala invades, we'll have her on our doorstep."

"I have my doubts about the loyalty of Laque Duchois as well," King Maerlos said. "True, I hold his older son and King Owen his younger, but he hasn't forgotten how he was forced to submit to the Palwells after the war. Nor is he like to forget the help I provided the Liberation of Agos."

Lord Laque Duchois had been a Tornette loyalist to the end. He was the master of Lakeside Keep in the city of Zarseille, and Highlord of the Western Rises, the first line of defense against a Yagol march. If he were to let them pass, the consequences would be disastrous for Agos. But would the man's pride allow himself to sacrifice his sons?

Nerris shrugged. What was he to tell them? If Qabala continued to get her way, there war with the east would be a certainty. Her new god would need the converts and the sacrifices which came along with it. But to do so would reveal his own part in her acquisition of a godstone.

"Your Majesty, have you ever heard of the Fatexion?" he asked.

"The godstone?" Maerlos asked. "It was said Yahd invaded the eastern kingdoms all those years ago with the intent of acquiring one of those stones and its power. He meant to rebuild the Aristian Empire with himself as Aeternus."

"I have reason to believe Qabala succeeded where he failed," Nerris said. "I witnessed her get run through with my own eyes, to no ill effect on her person. She now styles herself Queen Qabala Aeterna."

"Balderdash," Congir said. "There has been no record of a godstone since our barbarian ancestors migrated west and overran the Aristian Empire."

"With all due respect, your Excellency," Nerris said, "she appointed three Dume-Generals before I even left Yagolhan. Clystam only knows what she has been up to since then. She means to repeat Yahd's conquest, but this time she has what he sought. Yahd could be killed; Qabala will not be. Your Majesty, reach out to her via other means. War will not avail the east this time around."

Maerlos nodded. "I will think on what you've said." He rose. "But I fear the rest of the Alliance may not except your unsubstantiated word. They may even favor a preemptive strike, if she does not make her intentions known. They remember what it was like as well, thirty years ago. Nerris, would you be willing to come to Syrutim this year and tell them in your own words what you know?"

"Absolutely," Nerris said. "I owe Faerna that much. I give you my word, when Jhareth, Dist, and my hunt is over, we'll return to Faerlin and accompany you."

"Good." Maerlos moved toward the door, which Sir Jacey held open for him. "If you'll excuse me, I have preparations to see to with the imminent arrival of his Grace, Dominarch Venifus."

Nerris and Congir stood and bowed, and Sir Jacey escorted the King into the corridors. Congir approached Nerris.

"I was wondering if you would mind sating my curiosity," he said.

"Not at all, your Excellency."

Congir scratched at his beard. "The woman who accompanies you, this Len-Ahl. Wherever did you come across her?"

"I encountered her in the Great Oak Forest," he said. Why would the prime minister be interested in Len-Ahl? Nerris recalled Congir was common born himself. Could it be he was smitten with the shy faermaid? Congir was an older man, and giving over to pudginess, but if Len-Ahl were to accept a place at court she could hardly do for a better match than the Faernan prime minister.

"Have you ever noticed anything strange about her?" he asked. "Has she done anything out of the ordinary since you've known her?"

Nerris regarded the man warily. "The Great Oak Forest is full of strange people," he said. "Len-Ahl's no different than most." He made no mention of the strange magic she had used to soothe him to sleep the first night they met, or the folk she kept company with. While these may be looked at as eccentricities in the country, some in the city would be quick to name them witchcraft.

"Forgive me," Congir said. "I fear your recent acquisition of the Stonechaser Prophecy has my mind aflutter with legend and folklore. A prime minster should not delve into such fancies when practical matters must come foremost. By your leave, Master Nerris."

Nerris nodded. "Excellency."

Congir left the room, and Nerris stared after him. The feeling he had gotten when first gazing upon the man had not abated. Something was not right about him. What scared him more was the feeling was much the same as the one he got when thinking of Len-Ahl and her mysteries. At once, his course became clear. Len-Ahl could not stay here, and neither should he. The sooner he, Dist, and Jhareth got out of this rat's nest of politics and back on the road, the better. And until he could be assured of her safety, Len-Ahl would have to come with them.

# Chapter Nineteen

NERRIS WAS WALKING the castle garden with his cousin and Len-Ahl when the summons arrived, delivered by an out-of-breath messenger. The Dominarch had arrived in Faerlin, and would be meeting with the King soon. The Thrillseekers' presence was requested as "spokesmen of the kingdom." Nerris thanked the man and he hurried off to inform Dist and Jhareth.

"You never told me about that appointment," Astoren said.

"That's a new one to me," Nerris replied, "but it makes sense if King Maerlos and Dominarch Venifus are going to be gnashing back and forth with each other. It must be a power thing. I don't know what he'll get by parading us in front of the Church, though. We've never been what you would call devout, and the Church has never had any fondness of the way the people view us. I think the Dominarch would rather they tell stories from the White Book than Thrillseeker tales."

Astoren laughed. "Tales in the White Book are tiresome, repetitive, and half of them are written in Classical Tormalian. Thrillseeker stories have things like frost giants and flying ships."

They stopped walking when they noticed Len-Ahl had fallen behind. She stood a few yards behind them, hands at her side, a faraway look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?" Nerris asked.

"I do not know," Len-Ahl said, "only the feeling that we have no place at this gathering. Nerris, has Jhareth secured our passage to Orrigo?"

"Yes, an Agossean cog departing two days from now," he said.

Len-Ahl sighed. "Very well. Yet I fear we may desire an exit sooner than that."

Nerris had no idea what she was talking about, but she was so grave about it. He put a reassuring arm around her and escorted her from the garden. In brisk fashion, they made their way to the great hall, where two sentries admitted them. Tapestries depicting events in the White Book hung from the walls, but the gallery was not as crowded as he would have expected. Even if the Church was suffering in recent times, he thought many a follower would wish to pay respect to the Dominarch.

They found Dist and Jhareth at a spot by a pillar on the east side of the room. "Did you get our invitation?" Nerris asked.

"What invitation?" Jhareth said. "We saw all the commotion from the south parapet and trailed the Dominarch's contingent in here."

King Maerlos sat on his throne, surrounded by his councilors, including Congir. The Dominarch himself stood before him. Dominarch Venifus was a turkey-necked old man with only a few wisps of white hair visible beneath an enormous golden mitre. He wore purple vestments which drooped almost to the point of touching the floor. Perhaps a dozen others surrounded him, churchmen all, of various rank and age.

"We of the Church are most humbled by your Majesty's gracious welcome," Venifus was saying, "especially given the tragedy you have had to endure recently. You have our deepest sympathies for Queen Nelisa. May Clystam's gentle hand guide her to the Paradise of her forever days."

"Thank you, your Grace," Maerlos said. "It was never my intention that there be discord between us, but there are matters involving the manner of my wife's death we should discuss privily."

The Dominarch inclined his head. "Of course."

King Maerlos rose. "Then I invite you to break your fast with me in my quarters. Our dear prime minister will see to your men."

"Did we miss anything important?" Nerris asked Dist as Sir Daswell and Sir Eddwar escorted the two men from the hall.

"The usual platitudes," Dist said. "One of the cardinals gave a sermon. I don't think the King appreciated it very much, given what he thinks—"

They jumped a bit as two guards slammed the doors of the great hall open. Congir stood and sauntered in front of the throne. "Sir Kettric, Sir Kerwyn, would you please escort our honored councilors and our dear nobles from the hall so I might have a word with our honored guests?"

The two cavaliers shouted some orders, and the rest of the guards herded those in the gallery out the side doors. At the same time, other men in vestments similar to the churchmen entered.

Nerris let himself be herded. "Well, I'm sure glad we came," he said to Astoren.

"Too bad all church functions don't have this brevity," Astoren said. "I know knights are supposed to be the most devoted of all, but you can only take so much praying while some whitebeard croaks at you from on high."

It was not until they were halfway back to the garden that Nerris noticed Len-Ahl was missing. Excusing himself from his friends, he backtracked his way to the great hall. The castle did not sprawl out much from this point, but he did not see her anywhere. In fact, the only way to exit the corridors would be to open a window and leap two stories to the ground below. What in the world had become of her?

Soon, he found himself back at the side entrance to the great hall. The door swung ajar, and Nerris knew a guard on the other side would prevent him from entering. Without even thinking about it, he dipped into his shinobi stance and quietly stepped over to the door. Stealth worked as well for Faerlin Castle as it had for the Aeternica. He placed an ear to the door, easily listening through the thin wooden planks .

He heard much distress inside, and many voices rang out at once. Finally, Congir called for silence. "Your treachery shall be ended at the gallows," the prime minister said. "For your dear Dominarch as well, I would wager, once his Majesty finishes with his questioning."

"You are the one who conspires against our Church!" shouted a voice which sounded like it belonged to one of the elderly clergymen. "Your soul will burn in eternal torment if you lay a finger on us!"

"Your god means nothing to me," Congir said. "You worship a deity that has long since abandoned you. But I assure you, another is coming. The Preserver's arrival is imminent, and all true believers will know an end to the pain and toil Clystam and the other Deinovi have inflicted upon this world for millennia!"

"Blasphemy! Heresy!" came the shouts of the clergymen.

Congir waited until they yelled themselves hoarse before continuing. "Who do we turn to when those we depend on for guidance and protection abandon us?"

"The Preserver!" cried out a new chorus. Congir must have kept some men of his own in the hall with him.

"It is past time for a revolution," Congir continued. "Just as the Deinovi replaced the Ancient Gods, it is time for a new protector, one worthy of our devotion. One who will hear our concerns and prayers and who will not abandon us when we need him most. Loyal followers, seize these men!"

He heard the guards close in on the Dominarch's priests as the shouting reached a crescendo. From the sound of it, the men of the Church were not going quietly. Congir summoned more guards, and Nerris heard the sentry beside his door spring into action, his boots thudding on the stone floor as he ran to assist. Nerris took the opportunity to crack the door open and sneak inside. Crouching low, he kept to the shadows and took refuge behind a pillar.

He peered out from his hiding place to take measure of the situation. The clergymen huddled together in the center of the hall, guards and their spears preventing them from escaping. Congir stood at the same spot, atop the dais in front of the throne. Surrounding him were perhaps a score of men in black robes. All of them were armed.

Nerris sucked in his breath as he recognized the metal face masks they wore, as well as the uneasy aura. These men were followers of Eversor and the Tattered Man. But what were they doing this far east?

"Bring the first sacrifice," Congir ordered.

A man in white vestments was shoved out of the throng to fall at the foot of the dais. Several cultists rushed forward and seized the man by his arms. Another approached, brandishing a long, serrated knife. With one swipe, he sliced the man's robe down the middle to expose his torso.

"The Deinovi abandoned us because of weakness," Congir called out. "They could not abide it in us, and left us to our eventual doom, knowing we humans would destroy each other in the years to come. We must show we are willing to pay the cost for the peace and prosperity the Preserver brings to us. We must prove ourselves worthy of his attention and love." He gave a nod to the cultist with the knife.

"In the name of Eversor!" the man called through his mask. He raised his knife.

A high-pitched musical note filled the air. Though a little shrill, the cultists and Congir clapped their hands over their ears and cried out in pain. The cultist dropped his knife, which clattered to the floor.

Nerris looked farther down the hall, and saw Len-Ahl standing toward the main entrance, fipple flute raised to her lips. "That will be enough!" she yelled. "Your vile cult shall spill no blood on this pure land!"

"So," Congir sneered, "you reveal yourself at last. I knew this display would draw you out, child of the Xenea."

"You reveal yourself as well," Len-Ahl said. "What will become of your plans when the King and all true men arrive to find you amongst this evil company, messenger of Eversor?"

"The King will listen to whatever I tell him," Congir answered. "Even now, he acts on my advice to imprison the Dominarch for what he believes to be conspiracy against the royal house. Every man you see here is a loyal follower of the Preserver, but most of the castle belongs to me as well. Submit now and maybe I will grant you a quick death. Don't think that trinket you carry will stop us."

"Your Preserver knows not what true loyalty is," Len-Ahl answered. "These men are merely misguided, and your guards will remember none of this once they've done your bidding. But come, if you must. We will see who is stronger."

Congir drew his own blade and gestured for several cultists to accompany him. They went around the ring of guards holding the clergymen and headed straight for Len-Ahl. Nerris left his pillar and vaulted over the stone balustrade to land on the floor of the great hall. He unsheathed Noruken and made straight for the advancing cultists. They spotted him seconds before he made contact, but the man who raised the alarm died with a scream.

He fought off two more cultists, putting himself between them and Len-Ahl. The masked men were not good fighters, and Nerris soon dispatched one as he sheared straight through the mask and into the face beneath it. He cut so deep his blade was wrenched from his grasp and clattered to the carpeted floor.

With a cry of triumph, the other cultist moved in for the kill, but Nerris ducked under his swipe and caught the man's arm, kicking him in the chest. He took the blade out of the cultist's hand and spun, slashing him through the chest. The man in the black robe fell with a grunt.

Where was Congir? Nerris picked up Noruken and looked around as Len-Ahl approached him. He happened to catch sight of the man whose face he had slashed open. He cursed under his breath. He knew that face, or at least what remained of it. It was the King's ward, Ceder Duchois. How had that boy gotten mixed up in something as evil as the Cult of Eversor?

"Nerris?" Len-Ahl asked as if not believing his presence. "How did you—"

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Fine," she said.

The rest of the cultists had drawn their weapons and were now approaching them, though a bit wary. Looking around, Nerris still could not spot Congir. He raised both Noruken and the appropriated broadsword the cultist had used, and gestured toward the main entrance with his head. "Stay behind me and make for the door."

"Right." Len-Ahl stepped backward with Nerris, neither of them taking their eyes off the cultists. When the doors were almost within reach, a large shape leapt from the shadows at Len-Ahl. Before Nerris could even turn to face Congir, Len-Ahl's flute met her lips.

She played a methodical piece, slow like a dirge, with a haunting quality to the melody. The cultists once again dropped their weapons and held their ears, screaming in terrible pain. Some even dropped to their knees. Congir, however, had some kind of protection this time. His robe seemed engulfed in a shadowy cloud, and he drew his knife. Len-Ahl turned to face him and sent the last part of the tune straight at him. A brilliant flash of light followed, and Congir flew backward to connect with one of the pillars.

"Yenak!" he yelled as he slumped to the ground, clutching at his head.

"I don't suppose you could take care of the rest of them," Nerris said, gesturing toward the writhing cultists and the bewitched guards.

"I feel my strength dwindling already," she said. "Soon I will not be able to blow a single note."

"Then we're getting out of here," Nerris said.

He turned and kicked the doors open. The antechamber outside was deserted, and Nerris dropped his broadsword and sheathed Noruken. He took Len-Ahl by the hand and ran out into the castle. They flew up and down corridors, toward the guest chambers they shared with Dist and Jhareth.

"We have to get Dist and Jhareth," he said. "We'll find my cousin and Sir Jacey and the King. He'll have Congir's head off for this—"

"Nerris, stop," Len-Ahl said. She halted, which forced Nerris to do the same. "Congir spoke the truth. He is much stronger than I realized. He wanted to draw me out, and it worked. I was foolish to remain in that hall. Nonetheless, if you go to the King now, he will defend the prime minster to the death, and probably throw you and I into a dungeon and put us at Congir's mercy. We must get away from here."

"I can't abandon King Maerlos," Nerris protested.

"There is nothing anyone can do right now, not even the Thrillseekers," she said. "Please, do not throw your life away."

"What would you have me do?" Nerris asked. "Abandon my king to this monster's whim?"

"You seek the treasure known as the Exemplus," she said. "That is a much more powerful treasure than you know. When you return with it, you will have the strength to oust the perversions of Eversor from this kingdom forever."

"How do you know this?" Nerris asked.

"There is no time," Len-Ahl said. "We must find Dist and Jhareth and get out of the city."

Nerris wanted to question her some more, but she was right. Congir's position had been compromised, and he would have half the castle looking for them as soon as he cleaned up the mess in the great hall. They arrived back at their quarters, thankfully to find Dist and Jhareth lounging on a couple of divans, with Astoren in an overstuffed chair.

"Where have you been?" Jhareth asked.

Nerris launched into a brief explanation of what had transpired in the great hall. At the conclusion, Astoren leapt to his feet.

"Treason!" the young knight said. "I knew there was something amiss about that Congir, but Sir Eddwar assured me I was biased because he was born common."

"And probably not even in Faerna," Nerris said. "He yelled the word _yenak_ when Len-Ahl sent him careening into that pillar. I soldiered in Yagolhan for the better part of a year, and I've heard that curse before. Our Yagol prime minister disguises his accent well."

"How could a Yagol become a member of the royal council?" Dist asked.

"Yagols look much the same as the rest of us," Jhareth said, "and there is no trade between the two countries. I doubt most Faernans have even seen a Yagol before." He shook his head.

"And if he's Yagol, that suggests Queen Qabala is behind this," Nerris said.

Jhareth rubbed at his eyes. "All right, several things have fallen into place. If he's behind this so-called Church conspiracy, he means to drive a wedge between the crown and its people. Faerna is the fighting heart of any Alliance force, and if you stop the heart, you stop the rest of the body. If she does decide to invade the east, it's in her best interest if the east is destabilized."

"So what do we do about it?" Dist asked.

"We do what Len-Ahl suggested," Nerris said. "We find the Exemplus, and use it to take our country back." He turned to Astoren. "Do you think you can sneak us out of the castle? We have to leave now. Today."

"But I've already paid for passage on that cog," Jhareth protested.

"It can't be helped," Nerris said. "We need to find a ship leaving today."

"I can get you out of the castle undetected," Astoren said.

Nerris nodded. "Once we're gone, don't go and do anything stupid, like confronting Congir. That's the surest way to get killed. In fact, he may come after you just for being my cousin. Perhaps it's best if you left the city as well."

"I know," Astoren said. "At my first opportunity, I'll ride forth from the city myself and head for Renoa. Prince Camion must know about this. He'll have to return and take the kingdom in hand, by force if necessary."

"No," Len-Ahl said. "That is exactly what Congir wants to happen. You must hold off any conflict until we can return with the Exemplus."

"Do as she says, Astoren," Nerris said. "Len-Ahl seems to have answers the rest of us lack. Once we're out to sea, I mean to question her on a few points."

Len-Ahl nodded. "I will tell you what I can."

Dist rubbed at his temple. "I don't understand any of this."

"You're not in exclusive company," Nerris said.

"Well, then." Jhareth rose to his feet and gathered up his copies of the Stonechaser scrolls. "As much as I don't like to leave King Maerlos in this predicament, it looks like we have a clear course before us. Let's get after some treasure."

# Chapter Twenty

CAPTAIN JORGA WAS a large man with a big belly, and a bushy beard which hung almost to his chest. His eyes were friendly, his demeanor genial, and he had taken them onto his ship for a mere pittance. But that did not mean Nerris had to like him.

He was fond of the man himself. However, Captain Jorga was loud, blustery, smelled of smoked fish, and his carelessness at sea gave Nerris nightmares whenever he chanced to sleep near open water. In his favor, Captain Jorga was a fast friend to the Thrillseekers and agreed to set sail two days before schedule. He greeted Nerris with a crushing bear hug as he reached the top of the gang plank.

"I couldn't believe my eyes when Jhareth marched up to my ship," he said, following with a big belly laugh. "What luck my love and me happened to be in the city when you needed my help!" He affectionately patted the rail of the ship he had named _The Sea Tart_.

"Yes, luck," Nerris muttered, dreading the seasickness to come.

"And what have we here?" Jorga said, catching sight of Len-Ahl. "My, you are a pretty one. It's not often one sees the Thrillseekers with a woman. Aye, haven't seen a lass like you since we sailed the skies with the lovely faermaid Laria Salville." He craned his neck in Jhareth's direction. "Jhareth, didn't you have a thing for her?"

Nerris rolled his eyes. Jorga would spend all day reminiscing if they let him. "Len-Ahl, this is our old friend Captain Jorga," he said. "He's helped us out in a few tight predicaments."

"You said you sailed the skies?" Len-Ahl said with wonder.

"Aye!" Jorga turned back to them and beamed at Len-Ahl. "A skyship, wonder of the ancient world, based on a lost art of ship making. _The Skylark_ , Jamellos Laveston dubbed her."

"We had somewhere very high we needed to go," Nerris explained. "Our benefactor at the time, Jamellos Laveston, spent several years researching ancient tomes and texts for clues on how to restore a ship which could fly through the air." He jerked his head toward Jorga. "He finally succeeded, and then this lump crashed it."

"Hey," Jorga protested. "I was the one you picked to pilot, wasn't I?"

"You were the only one fool enough to volunteer," Dist said as he passed by.

"Jorga has this thing with his ships," Nerris told Len-Ahl. "They tend to end up at the bottom of the ocean, sooner or later."

"It's my curse," Jorga admitted.

"It's because you like to drink behind the helm," Dist said, looking around. "For the love of Clystam, Jorga, didn't anyone ever tell you when you sink the old boat, you buy a better one? There are patches in the sails!"

Dist pointed up, and Nerris followed his finger. Sure enough, the main mast looked like it had succumbed to a bout of leprosy. All throughout the deck, as well, were quite a few spots where rotten wood had been replaced with planks and boards nailed over the holes.

"You were expecting a pleasure barge?" Jorga asked. "Times are lean, and I've had to resort to hauling pickles lately. Not much big money in trading produce."

"I hope Jhareth didn't swindle you on our passage," Nerris said.

"Think nothing of it," Jorga said. "I don't know what kind of adventure you're on, but the sea is at your disposal as long as I'm with you."

"We just want to get to Orrigo," Jhareth said. "Let's not get carried away."

Jorga grinned. "Jhareth, when have I ever gotten carried away?"

None of them chose to answer.

Once they were out of the harbor, they found a strong wind to pull their creaky cog west. As soon as they cleared the Arm, they could turn south for Orrigo. If the wind held up, they would dock in the harbor after a mere three days. Nerris supposed he should be grateful the trip would be short. As good as it was to see Captain Jorga again, he had no desire to stay on any ship of his longer than he had to.

As the sun set in front of them that evening, Nerris found Len-Ahl at the starboard gunwale. Her eyes were closed, and her golden hair billowed in the sea breeze. Nerris stopped beside her and rested his arms on the rail. He wanted to ask Len-Ahl about what had happened back in the great hall at Faerlin Castle, but she looked to be at such peace it would be a shame to sully her moment with talk of dark events.

"The air smells different here," she said after a few moments of silence.

"It's the salt in the water," Nerris said. "I keep forgetting this is your first time at sea."

"Does it go on like this forever?" Len-Ahl asked.

Nerris looked ahead, aware of the sunset to his left. "If you keep going out this way, you'll run into Hilonia eventually. To the far east, out past Miagama and the Huku Islands, lies the water known as the Endless Ocean. No one who has attempted to cross has ever come back."

"Not even in one of those skyships?"

"The skyships only work over land," Nerris said. "We found that out when we tried to fly over Lake Lilo. But who knows what the ancients were able to accomplish? Much of their technology was lost with the fall of the Aristian Empire." He leaned over the side, watching the waves break against the ship's hull. "There are those who believe all the world's landmasses are merely large rafts floating slowly over the vast oceans. They say somewhere out there, the ocean drops off into an enormous waterfall known as the Great Cataract. One day Tormalia, Egkari, the Chei sub-continent, all of it, will come upon the Great Cataract and go over the edge. And that will be how the world ends."

"That would be a poor end for the lands of the world," Len-Ahl said. "All that has been accomplished swept away in an instant."

"It's just an old story," Nerris said.

"I can see how the vastness of the sea would give rise to such tales. When we first set sail I was overwhelmed with a feeling of smallness. It was an odd sensation."

"Are you feeling sick at all? A first time at sea can do that to some people."

"Oh, no," Len-Ahl said. "I like it. The sounds of the waves hitting the ship, the salty breeze... such a perfect union of wind and water. Undines and sylphs, in perfect harmony."

"Undines?"

"Water faeries," she said, opening her eyes. "I have been watching them at play for hours now. They are so innocent out here. They know nothing of the land and all its problems."

Nerris vaguely remembered Len-Ahl telling him sylphs were the faeries of the air. He squinted, casting a long look into the Aristian Sea. "I can't see anything."

"It is harder for someone of this world to sense the faery realm," Len-Ahl said, "but it can be done. Close your eyes." Nerris did so, and Len-Ahl put a hand on his arm. "Imagine yourself sitting on a distant shore. Hear the waves breaking against the sand and rocks, and feel the spray of the mist against your skin. Look at the mist drawing closer to you, enveloping you, and feel it caress you with its gentle touch."

Nerris could visualize and feel everything Len-Ahl said. Soon, he could feel the wet mist encircling him, drawing him away from his shore. He felt a sense of life he hadn't felt in years. A safe, exhilarated feeling. He opened his eyes in time to catch sight of something on the waves. Before his mind could register what he saw, it had vanished, a splash in the water the only evidence to mark its passage.

"Did you see it?" Len-Ahl asked.

Nerris felt a bit disappointed. "Only some fish."

"Perhaps," Len-Ahl said. "I know why you came over here, Nerris. You have questions."

"Many questions," he said. "Where to start?"

"With whatever is on your mind right now."

"Who are you?" Nerris asked. "I know now you are no mere Oak Forest curiosity. The beings you converse with, what you did back in the great hall... you have some connection to all this cult business."

"As do you," Len-Ahl said, gazing at him with her deep green eyes. "Am I right?"

"Yes," Nerris said. "I encountered them when I was in Yagolhan, six months ago."

"I had never met one before Congir," Len-Ahl said, "yet I suspected what he was. The reason I came with you, my purpose for being, is to fight those who would undo Angelica's great works."

"Angelica, Queen of the Faeries," Nerris said. "It always seems to come back to her. You're one of them, aren't you? A faery."

"Yes and no," Len-Ahl said. "You heard Congir call me a child of the Xenea, no doubt. Xenea is the proper name for the faeries and it is true my mother was one. However, my father was human."

"A half-faery?"

"It is not a common union," Len-Ahl said, "though it can happen. In the days of antiquity, humans and faeries used to live in harmony. But the humans began to move away from nature, and construct walls of wood and stone. They drew into themselves and lost abilities they once had, such as communion with all living things. As the eons drifted by, they found they could no longer sense the faery realm, and the Xenea became as myth and story to them. Even with my help, Nerris, you still deny what you saw. I struggle with my human side as well, at certain times."

"And your music?" Nerris asked. "How did it stop those cultists?"

Len-Ahl sighed. "If only I were stronger. I thought I would be able to stop Congir, but the cult is stronger in Faerlin than even I suspected. I fear all I was able to do was delay them. No doubt those poor priests will still be sacrificed in the name of the Destroyer, if they haven't already. Music comes from a place of purity in the soul, Nerris. To give oneself over to Eversor is to lose that purity. If you know how to play the right notes, music can be anathema to them."

Nerris remembered the glade in Yahd's Walk, how he had heard the music on the air, helping to drive the cultists away. "Faery music?"

Len-Ahl chuckled. "Where do you think music came from? It is the original spoken language of the faeries."

"And the Exemplus? What do you know about it?"

"My mother once told me a little knowledge is a dangerous thing," Len-Ahl said, "and a lot of knowledge can mean disaster. I was never informed of the Exemplus's nature; only that it is the most powerful stone in creation, and I must find it before it can be rejoined with the corruption. When we understand the scrolls of Angelica, I feel we may begin to understand why we were brought together to do this."

"The corruption?"

"You know of what I speak."

Of course. The Doom Rock. Qabala must have known about the Exemplus this entire time, and she wanted to come east to look for it. The two stones must be counterparts, and Qabala wanted to wield them both, dual godstones with untold power. Nerris had seen a glimpse of the power one gave to Qabala. He shuddered to think what it would mean for her to wield two.

"Do you have anything you would like to say?" Len-Ahl asked.

"No. Nothing." Nerris slumped against the gunwale. Even after all that had happened, he could not flippantly betray Qabala's secrets. She had made him feel again, and given him something to live for. He owed her better than that.

Len-Ahl intertwined her arm with his. "You put up such walls, much higher than those of any castle. One day I will stand atop them, however."

Nerris laughed. "You're saying you want to straddle my parapet?"

Len-Ahl gave his arm a light slap. "I did not mean it like that!" She laughed. "Whenever you speak to me, it is like smoke rising from a chimney. I know one day I will get inside those walls and experience the warmth of the fire within. And that will be a joyous day indeed."

Nerris remained silent for a time. "You may be in for a long wait," he finally said.

"I do not mind," Len-Ahl whispered. "It is our fate."

"Can't say I believe in fate," Nerris said. "Not for a long time."

"Why?"

"I loved someone once," he said. "She wasn't much taller than you, and she had the same... vibrancy, I suppose you would call it. A spirit which shone brighter than a hundred suns. And she brought out that spirit in me as well. When we were together, it was clear to me we would spend the rest of our lives with each other."

"Yet here you stand."

"Here I stand," Nerris agreed, a lump forming in his throat. Just thinking about Ketsuya did that to him. "Len-Ahl, I swear that whatever task you have, I will protect you from those who would do you harm. Until the end. But don't ask for my love. That road leads to ruin."

Len-Ahl considered him. "You know what I think? I think you are the one in need of protection."

Nerris laughed. "Me?"

"You are formidable, no doubt," she said. "Thrillseeker and all that. But maybe you should think of me as that extra bit of protection, something on top of your sword, armor, and those inner walls of yours. Think of me as someone to guide you when you are lost, or cannot think. Look to me at those times, Nerris, and I will see you through all the ruin." She gave his arm one last squeeze and released him. "I think it is time I turned in for the night. Where does one sleep on a vessel such as this?"

"Jorga set up private quarters for you, being the only female on board," Nerris said. "Go below deck, hang a right at the corridor, and don't look in on Dist or Jhareth. They're drinking with Jorga's men. Unless you'd like a few drunken pinches. Keep in mind we're on this scow with sailors, not saints."

Len-Ahl giggled. "Thank you for the advice."

As she disappeared below deck, Nerris turned back to the sea. In the distance there were many splashes upon the surface of the water, but Nerris could not make out their source. Was it some kind of fish, as he suspected, or something else? All he could do was watch.

Nerris didn't see much of Len-Ahl, or anyone, over the next two days. While rounding the tip of the Arm, Jorga's helmsman scraped against some shallows, sending a shudder throughout the whole ship. Nerris spent the rest of his time on the Sea Tart puking his guts over the gunwale, and no one wanted to come near him.

Hours before they were scheduled to make port in Orrigo, Dist and Jorga approached him. Jorga thrust a tankard of ale at him. "Peace offering?"

Nerris took the tankard and quaffed it straight. "You had to put a drunk man on the helm, didn't you?"

"It was his turn," Jorga said. "I may have underestimated how drunk he was, but we made it out all right. If it makes you feel better, I'll have that helmsman scrub the barnacles from the hull when we reach port. He'll think twice about drinking next time his turn comes up."

"Don't worry," Dist said to Nerris's dubious glare. "Just a couple of hours until Orrigo."

At that point, Jhareth barged his way up onto the deck and stomped toward them, his damp boots squishing on the wood. "You have a problem," he said to Jorga.

"What is it?"

"You've got holes in your boat."

"Balderdash."

Jhareth pointed down. "I was in the hold. The water was up to my ankles."

Jorga's eyes went wide and he went forth, shouting orders. "All free hands to the hold! You there, put down that hawser and come with me. No, Dakens, stay at the rigging. The rest of you, with me! And someone bring buckets!" Jorga and his men disappeared below deck.

"What were you stealing?" Dist asked Jhareth.

"Nothing," Jhareth replied. "Everything was too wet."

Nerris took another swig of ale. "I should have thought of this before. The more I drink, the less I care if we sink or not. What's the plan when we get ashore?"

"I figure you and Len-Ahl can track down our scholar," Jhareth said. "You're more suited to treat with someone like that than I am. I'll acquire horses for whatever destination the scrolls lead us to. We'll need some other things as well; cooking pots, pans, rain shelters, and the like."

"What about me?" Dist asked.

"You hire a messenger to send to King Owen," Jhareth said.

"Yes, he'll need to know what happened in Faerlin," Nerris said. "Sooner or later, news of Ceder Duchois's death will reach him, and it's best if he hears our account. If Qabala does invade, I fear I may have handed her Agos on a silver platter."

"You really think Lord Laque will let her march through his lands?" Jhareth asked.

"He won't join her as long as Owen holds his younger son," Nerris said. "But he has no love lost for House Palwell or us."

"You still haven't told us what Len-Ahl said to you," Dist said. "Some of the seamen said they saw you two having a fairly intimate conversation the first night of the voyage. What's going on?"

Nerris told them everything Len-Ahl had said, aside from the part where she offered to be his protector. He would never hear the end of it if he revealed that.

Jhareth scratched at his goatee. "The Exemplus is a stone, is it? Made of some precious metal, I would wager."

"I don't think this is the kind of stone you can sell," Nerris said.

"Who cares?" Jhareth said.

"Come again?"

"From now until the end of time, they will say it was the Thrillseekers who found the Exemplus," he said, almost twitching with excitement. "That is worth more than any amount of money, I would say."

"If we don't drown first," Dist said, glancing down at the water.

However, Jorga's men were able to patch the holes in the bowels of the ship with wood and resin, and the Sea Tart made it to port after all. Only after the hawsers were tied, the sails furled, and the captain and his men ashore for a night of carousing did their patchwork come undone. When they returned later that night, _The Sea Tart_ had sunk to its mast.

# Chapter Twenty-One

ORRIGO WAS A cozy port which sprawled across the Agossean north coast. Though the harbor was as raucous as any in Tormalia, the rest of the city was marked by its quiet and tranquility. It boasted no university of its own, but played home to many smaller schools dedicated to crafts such as the healing arts. Many retired professors and scholars from Faerlin's university resided there, and it boasted Tormalia's only public library. The emphasis on culture and knowledge had led to Orrigo being dubbed the City of Enlightenment.

However, the brothel Dist stood in front of was anything but cultured. It was a well-kept, yet unobtrusive building to be sure, and looked a sight better than some of the ramshackle places down in the harbor or in the seedier parts of Faerlin. It was in a good part of town, lingering on the edge of a small square with a sculpted fountain. A few residents sat on their stoops, basking in the warm spring sun, and a group of children ran by, engrossed in a game of Blind Man's Bluff.

It was midday when Dist stepped through the door of the Happy End Brothel, which meant business was slow. A young woman covered in freckles stood behind a bar, wearing a skin-tight shift and not much else. Dist gave her a smile as he wandered farther inward. An overweight man sat at the only occupied table, chatting up a homely blonde woman. If it was evening, the bar lady would be busy pouring drinks while serving girls raced back and forth from the kitchens with food for the patrons, and the whores led their clients up the wooden stairs by the hand to a room where they could earn their night's wages.

After a few more steps, a middle-aged woman with a wide smile sauntered over to him. "Welcome, good master," she said. "Will you be wanting a table, or did you have a specific girl in mind?"

Dist grinned. "It's been a while, Tessa."

The woman blinked. "Have we met?"

"I used to come here often when I was at Gauntlet," Dist said. "You insisted I was too young for such revels, but your sister said my money was good as anyone else's."

Tessa stared at his blond hair for a moment, sized him up and down and broke into an even wider smile. "Dist! What a surprise!" She turned toward the kitchens. "Alessa! Come out, quick! Dist is here!"

A brown-haired woman almost of an age with Tessa emerged from the kitchens, wiping her hands on her apron. She took one look at him and cried out in surprise. "Dist!"

Dist laughed. "It's good to see you both in good health." The two women were joint-owners of the brothel. Though Alessa was a few years younger than Tessa, they could have passed for twins. Both had the same brown hair styled in braids, and the same oval-shaped faces and wide smiles. It had been ten years since he had seen them. Though their youth had deserted them, they remained lovely women still.

"What have you been up to all these years?" Tessa asked him. "We've heard all sorts of stories about you and your friends."

"I remember Jhareth," Alessa said. "He preferred blondes, if I remember right."

"Nerris never bought anything but a drink, though," Tessa said. "He always looked like he wanted to run out of here when one of the girls approached him."

"Don't you remember?" Alessa said. "He was smitten with that noblewoman Aledine. He wasn't going to risk her finding him carousing with whores."

"Ladies," Dist said. "As glad as I am to see you, I need to ask a question. Does Fayla still work here?"

Tessa nodded. "I had a feeling you would want to see her. Have a seat, and I'll go find her."

Dist thanked the sisters and sat down at a nearby table. As he looked around, his mind filled with visions of his old comrades. Not just Nerris and Jhareth, but others he had known during his time at Gauntlet, many of which never even frequented this place. Their faces came to him nonetheless. Their combat instructor, Rhodias, the former berserker, who was cut down at the Battle of Crossroads while taking up the fallen banner of House Sallidon. Joras Blackwine and Errin Staker, who had died in each other's arms at Gosseen. And of course the Owens, the elder who had lived long enough to be crowned king before dying of his wounds, and his son who reigned in Alicanos to this day.

He looked up as a young woman approached him. Fayla had been thirteen when Dist met her, same age as him. She had been a young skinny thing who made a living braving the streets on her own. She had filled out in the fourteen years since, a little plumper around the hips and bosom, and her face more wan than he remembered. But she still had the dark eyes and tawny hair which had attracted him all those years ago.

"Dist," Fayla said warily. "I can't believe it's you."

"Hello, Fayla," Dist said. "I trust you're well."

"I can't complain."

Dist gestured to a chair. "Would you like to sit down?"

Fayla sat without a word, her unblinking eyes never leaving him. Dist couldn't blame her for staring. The Thrillseekers had returned to Orrigo on occasion during their travels, usually to catch a ship to somewhere else, but Dist had never come back to visit her. The only news he had of her was in a letter from their mutual friend Aledine Feigh about a year after the Liberation of Agos. It was because of that letter he had finally come.

"I brought a gift." Dist drew out a pouch filled with silver sepps and laid it on the table.

Fayla stared at the coin-filled pouch dubiously. "Dist..." she said, glancing toward the second floor. "We shouldn't, it wouldn't be right—"

"It's not for you," Dist said. "It's for the boy."

Fayla sucked in her breath. "Ah. So you know."

Dist nodded. "I've known for years."

"Why did you never come back?"

Dist sighed. "I don't know. I think I was scared. We were so close once. You went with me and the others when we fought against King Ullas. You talked about giving up the life of a prostitute, of marrying me. Then one day you vanished from my tent without even a goodbye. I found out later you came back to this place." He leaned back in his chair. "When I found out you had a child, I was even more confused. But I never had the courage to come here and ask you why."

Fayla put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. "Ten years is a long time to carry that around," she said. "I can't say I blame you for wanting naught to do with me. You were always the one talking about marrying me and all the rest, Dist. But I knew what lay in your heart. You were destined for great things with Nerris and Jhareth, and I was right. You love your friends more than you ever loved me."

"That's not—"

"Don't deny it. For what it's worth, I never hated you for it. I only wanted what was best for you. Looking back, I handled it wrong. I found out I was with child, and I panicked. I never wanted to hold you back from the life that awaited you."

"I see," Dist said. "I guess I can understand that. Just know I'm not here to blame you for what you did."

"Why did you come back after all this time?"

Dist let out a big breath. "Nerris and Jhareth are in the city too. We're going after something big this time, most likely dangerous. You know how Jhareth gets; you mention the word _treasure_ and his eyeballs become gold coins. Nerris is so devoted to his ideals and goals that he doesn't even stop to consider the danger. No one does, except me. We've often been in over our heads, but this seems different, somehow weightier. I have this rumbling in the pit of my stomach telling me there's a chance we won't make it through this one. Funny how I've never had that feeling until now."

Fayla chuckled. "We're all getting older. We see the world differently now."

"Maybe."

"Would you like to see him?" she asked.

"Does he know about me? Who I am, what I've done in my life?"

Fayla shook her head. "I didn't want him to grow up hating you for not being here. He understands what I do, and thinks he was the result of my job."

"Then maybe it's best he doesn't meet me," Dist said.

"You don't have to meet him," Fayla said. "But if you would look on him, peer out that window." She pointed to an open window close to them.

Dist stood and walked over. A breeze picked up, cooling the cobblestone square somewhat. The same group of children he had seen before were still playing at their game. He did not need Fayla to point out his son. He was the right age, around nine or so, and had the same bright blond hair and stocky build Dist had as a child. He noted the boy shared some of Fayla's more delicate features as well, such as her nose. The boy played his game well, taunting the child wearing the blindfold into coming for him, and stepped out of his reach at the last moment. The blindfolded boy toppled headlong into the fountain, to the howling laughter of the other children. He watched them play for a few minutes before turning away.

"What's his name?" he asked Fayla.

"Garias," she said. "I named him after my brother."

"Garias Schies," Dist muttered.

"Are you sure you won't meet him?"

Dist had to think long and hard about it, but concluded it was not the right time. "One day, Fayla. If I make it through this." Dist gestured to the pouch on the table. "Use that to buy him an apprenticeship or something. He's my son, so he should prove to be good with tools."

Fayla nodded. "Of course."

Dist said his goodbyes and exited to the street. He avoided looking at the group of children as he headed back toward his inn. Shame overtook him. He could not meet his son, could barely look upon him, and all he had to give him was a few silver coins. He had been sure before he had come that he was doing the right thing, but now doubt gnawed at him. He took a deep breath. All he could do was survive. Survive and come back someday.

He went on his errand to hire a messenger for King Owen, and found a likely man at a tavern where freeriders were known to frequent. He gave the man the message Nerris had written, along with a few sepps, and sent him off to Alicanos. After that, he felt in need of a few drinks himself and threw back a few at his table while listening to the freeriders telling stories.

The sun was setting by the time he got back to their room at the inn. He, Nerris, and Jhareth had decided to share a room to give Len-Ahl her privacy, so Jhareth was waiting when he arrived, hunched over on the bed. He gave Dist an acknowledging smile as he entered, and Dist glared at him.

"Who kicked you in the puss?" Jhareth asked.

"No one," Dist said. "Is Nerris back yet?"

Jhareth shrugged. "Haven't seen him. It will take some time before our scholar is able to translate the scrolls, and that's if he's as good as we've heard." He gestured to the corner of the room, where a number of pots, pans, and canvas sheets were piled. "I got a great deal on supplies. I didn't even have to steal any of it. Our horses aren't the most robust animals, but they'll do. I put them up in the stables when I got back here. Did you find a messenger?"

Dist nodded.

"So can I have my silver back?"

"Sorry," Dist said. "Had to spend it all."

Jhareth stood. "All of it? You were supposed to hire one messenger, not a whole platoon."

"Couldn't be helped," Dist said.

Jhareth sighed. "I suppose I'll have to break out my shell game tomorrow. I'm running low on funds."

Nerris and Len-Ahl returned a short time later. Dist noted they were missing the copy Jhareth had made of the Stonechaser Prophecy. "We found him," Nerris said before Jhareth could even ask. "The man's name is Borrel, and he led us a merry chase around town. First, we went to his home, where his mother told us he spent most of his days at a brothel on Stoneman's Way. The women at the brothel sent us to a tavern on Wagon Road, and the barman there told us to go to the Great Library of Orrigo, which was where we finally found him." Nerris clenched his teeth. "And where he had been all day. Apparently, he likes to play this game with people who come to ask him questions."

"Why?" Jhareth asked.

"Scholars," Nerris said, though Dist was not sure that was his answer to the question or if he was dismissing all learned men. "I'm glad we cut our teeth at Gauntlet. If we had gone to a proper university like at Faerlin or Locraw, I would have gone mad."

"What did he say?"

"Well, he was thrilled to get his hands on the prophecy in its original dialect," Nerris said. "We left it with him. He wanted to start translating right away, and he said to check back with him tomorrow."

"Oh, that's fine." Jhareth reclined on the bed. "Just a little more time and we're off to write our names in the history books."

"I would not be sure a simple translation will bring the answer," Len-Ahl said. "Queen Angelica was much more clever than that. I would prepare for the ultimate test of the mind, Jhareth. Once we know what message she meant to give us, we will still have a long way to go."

Jhareth sat up. "Ultimate test of the mind, huh?"

Dist grunted. "Are you sure she meant this message for us, Len-Ahl?"

"Is there a problem?" Len-Ahl said.

"He means we were built for action, not thinking," Jhareth said. "If we have to think our way through this, we're doomed."

# Chapter Twenty-Two

THE GREAT LIBRARY of Orrigo was situated in the west end of the city among the extravagant homes of the well-to-do. Surrounded by a brick wall with a wrought iron gate at the entrance, the building had long been a source to draw upon for scholars from all sorts of universities and schools, as well as being available for anyone with the ability to read. A cobblestone path with a well-trimmed verge led to double wooden doors of polished wood.

"This brings back memories." Remembering library rules, Nerris kept his voice down as they entered. "When we were at Gauntlet, we had to come here often for additional study."

"I thought Gauntlet was a fighting school," Len-Ahl said.

"Not entirely," Jhareth supplied. "It began as a way for nobles to train their heirs in the art of combat and command, but over the years the headmasters attracted all sorts of instructors, and the school expanded. Those enrolled in a healing intensive schedule went on to become great doctors. Those with a combat intensive schedule, like us, became great warriors and high paid mercenaries."

"They also gave us basic education," Nerris said. "The written word, history, geography, arithmetic. My mother taught me to read when I was small, but Dist and Jhareth never learned until we came to Gauntlet."

Professor Borrel sat in the same spot Nerris had left him at the evening before, at a long table in the library common room. The space was a wide expanse of tables and chairs. The walls of the building were lined with shelves of books, broken up occasionally by a window sill. A stained glass dome towered above, illuminating the ceiling with a depiction of Saint Lorpe, the priest of Clystam. Hundreds of years ago, he had made books and writing from the Marble Sanctum available to all the folk of the city.

Borrel was writing feverishly on a piece of parchment as they entered, the Stonechaser Prophecy spread out in front of him. Piles of books were stacked close by and the candles he had been using were now wax nubs.

Nerris had been quite irritated when he and Len-Ahl had caught up with him the previous day. Borrel explained his repute was so widespread that he got too many questions to handle. He had devised a goose chase around the city in order to deter all but the most serious querents. When Nerris showed him their copy of the scrolls, however, the delight shone on his face and he vowed to get to work on them right away.

"Have you been at it all night, Professor?" Nerris asked.

Borrel looked up from his work. The man was quite young by scholarly standards, somewhere in his mid-thirties. His tall frame and thin face gave him a bug-eyed look, and he did not choose to adorn himself in the pretentious scholar's robes and wig. He wore a silk doublet over a white shirt, untied at the neckline with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. It was a fashionable look currently in Orrigo. His short brown hair parted on one side and was fashioned into a quiff in the front.

He flashed a grin. "Ah, Nerris, is it morning already? Once again, I have to thank you for bringing me this gift. I've wanted a look at these original runes for my entire career, but I could never get the Klaidons to part with them."

"Were you able to translate them?" Jhareth asked.

Borrel jumped to his feet and hurried to clasp hands with him. "You must be Jhareth Kanave," he said. "Of course, I've heard all about the Thrillseekers. Is it true you used to study in this library?"

Jhareth gave him a mocking bow. "I was the very soul of academia, my good professor."

Dist snickered and Nerris smiled.

"More like the ghost of academia," Nerris said. "We never knew if you were coming out or not, and you only moaned and groaned when you did."

"I must confess I found the accounts of your exploits to be nothing more than fiction," Borrel said, "but since you were able to get your hands on this prize, I'm curious as to where that fictional line truly begins or ends."

"We'll have to save the tales for some other time," Nerris said. "It's very important we know what the Stonechaser Prophecy has to say."

"Right," Borrel said, organizing his notes. "It's simple enough when you get down to it. The language of the Xenea is not incredibly difficult to fathom. Very structured, and almost musical in quality."

"How does one learn the language of the faeries?" Dist asked him. "From what we understand, faeries and humans haven't mingled in several thousand years."

"That is true for the most part," Borrel said, "but in my studies of language, I often sought out ancient and obscure dialects and a year or so back, I managed to track down a Nateus of the Earth Clerics. I had to go to the far western reaches of Yagolhan to find one, but it was worth it in the end."

"Yes," Len-Ahl said. "The orders were established by the kings of the elements themselves. Those at the top of the hierarchy passed down the language from generation to generation, but the orders have all but vanished in recent times."

Borrel brightened at that. "The lass did her research."

"Wait, you learned an entire language in a year?" Dist asked.

"As you may have heard, I'm somewhat of a genius," Borrel said without a trace of conceit. He was not bragging, but merely stating fact.

"Then I take it you're familiar with the story the Stonechaser Prophecy tells," Jhareth said.

"In times of doom impending, seek out Stone of Worth in veiled fetter," Borrel quoted. "An excerpt from Augury of Angelica, prepared by Sachias Limme in the year 2302, New Tormalian. Every boy who ever dreamed of adventure knows the story, Master Jhareth. The problem is the prophecy has been filtered through so many languages throughout the centuries that much of its meaning has been lost entirely."

"We figured that was the case," Nerris said.

"More like _I_ figured that was the case," Jhareth said.

Dist rolled his eyes. "Yes, Jhareth, we're all very impressed."

"In Limme's time, doom was a word which was used in place of destiny, for example," Borrel said. "The phrase Stone of Worth is what has caused much confusion. Worth was a synonym for power at the time." He gestured toward his parchment. "I have long held a theory that the quest Angelica spoke of was not an invitation for every adventurer under the sun to search for the Exemplus, but instructions to a specific group at a specific time. This version you have brought me has validated that theory."

"How so?" Nerris asked.

"Listen to this passage," Borrel said, clearing his throat:

_Stonechaser and companions will come_

_A catalyst to guide and others to defend_

_Go forth and walk xenea dolchin_

_When the threat is imminent_

Dist scratched his head. "What the hell?"

"Cryptic, yet it tells us much," Borrel said. "Stonechaser is singular, not the plural more commonly heard. It refers to one particular person, who will be joined by others to go on a journey. The Xenea Dolchin."

"What does that mean?" Nerris asked.

"Literally translated, the Faery Footpath," Borrel said. "Though it sounded a bit trite to my ears, so I kept the original term. It sounds more... majestic."

"Is the whole thing like that?" Dist asked.

"Much of it recounts the history of the faeries," Borrel said. "Nothing we weren't told as children. How the faeries breathed life into the world, how Angelica was born out of a flower created by the elemental kings, that sort of thing. It may take a while to sort it all out into something useful."

"I'm afraid we don't have long," Nerris said. "The threat referred to is upon us. Do you know the name Eversor, Professor?"

"I've... come across several mentions of the name in my studies," Borrel said tentatively. "It's a name which appears throughout history, usually spoken of with fear and loathing. I grew curious a number of years back and devoted myself to tracking down the origin of that name. What I found was revolting, and I resolved never to query it again."

Nerris nodded. "Then you know more than most people. If we don't find the Exemplus, Eversor or his agents will. And that would be disastrous for the world as a whole."

Borrel gulped. "You speak of the Rebirth Cataclysmic?"

"What's that?"

"There was a man who lived about a thousand years ago," Borrel said. "He stated this Eversor would one day find his door into our world, and when he did, the world would be remade. Everything destroyed, to be rebuilt in his vision. A fragment of the man's testimony had survived, in an obscure collection of works called the Black Prophecies."

The sky outside the library windows seemed to darken, though it was most likely clouds passing under the sun. A few other patrons browsing the shelves caught his eye, and Nerris gave them an apologetic smile. A lot of noise emanated from their table, not the least of which was Professor Borrel, whose voice tended to rise the more he talked.

Borrel noticed also. He looked to Len-Ahl and lowered his voice to a whisper. "The Stonechaser Prophecy uses the word _aem_ to describe the One of Destiny. All translations have reverted it to the default masculine, but _aem_ in Xenean has female connotation. Are you telling me you're—"

"I believe so," Len-Ahl said.

"And I have been called the Catalyst by a man much more knowledgeable of these events than any of us," Nerris said, remembering his dungeon conversation with Rade. He looked Borrel in the eyes. "The forces of Eversor are already moving, and if we don't do something we'll be too late. Is there anything in there about where we go from here?"

Borrel's eyes fell to his parchment and his finger drifted down the page to stop at a passage near the midpoint. He lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead and read:

_Perilous will be the xenea dolchin,_

_The road to Exemplus_

_There shall be beacons to light the path_

_Attracting those with the desire_

_To aid and hold_

_So I shall say no more except to seek_

_The first in high land_

_Let the breath of Paral be your guide_

_And lead you to the path's beginning_

"Why does it sound so choppy?" Jhareth asked.

"Nuances of language," Borrel said. "I wanted to make as literal a translation as possible to avoid the flourishes which corrupted succeeding copies of the document."

"The Road to Exemplus," Nerris said.

Len-Ahl nodded. "We are in for a much longer journey than anticipated. The text spoke of beacons to light the Faery Footpath. This was meant to guide us only to the first beacon. Each will in turn lead us to the next until we reach the end of the road."

"And then what?" Dist asked.

"Exemplus."

"There are other characters following that passage." Borrel took one of Jhareth's copied parchments and laid it in front of them. He pointed to a few lines toward the middle of the page. "I have not seen those letters before, if that's what they are. I don't know what they mean."

"The answer is there if we can but see it," Len-Ahl said.

"What's the breath of Paral?" Jhareth asked.

"Paral is the King of the Wind," Len-Ahl said. "It is said when the world was young, Paral created the wind and air from a single great bellow. Perhaps it is telling us to let the wind guide us to our destination."

"This is northern Agos, Len-Ahl," Nerris said. "The wind can blow four directions in a single day."

Len-Ahl frowned, staring intently at the parchment with the unknown markings. Each was uniform in its construction, with tiny variations and elevations on the page distinguishing them. Jhareth began to peruse the rest of what Borrel had translated, but Len-Ahl put a hand on his arm to stop him. "There is no need, Jhareth. We have the information we seek."

"How do you know?"

"I can feel it, the same force which guided Angelica's hand when she wrote this prophecy is here now. It speaks to me."

"What does it say?" Nerris asked.

"It does not speak in words," Len-Ahl said, "but in feelings. Deep feelings that have no name or logic, and—" Her eyes went wide. "Of course. The Spiritual Elements: thought, reason, knowledge, desire." She snatched up the parchment with the mysterious letters and held a finger in front of them. She moved the parchment up slightly, then down. Finally, she set it back on the table and laughed.

"What is it?" Borrel asked.

"You were about to ask me if I was the Stonechaser," Len-Ahl said. "I said I believed so because in spite of everything I was told and everything I have seen, I was never fully sure. How could one such as I hold a world's fate in her hands? I wield no powerful weapons, my magic is rudimentary at best, I have no knack for leading men or armies. But now I see the truth before me and it is so simple. Any doubts I had are now gone."

"Then you know what those letters mean?" Nerris said.

"Not letters," she said. "Notes." She lifted her fipple flute to her mouth and played. A triumphant, uplifting tune emerged, and gained speed as she went on. Several early morning book browsers cast an annoyed look in her direction, but she continued to play.

When she reached a crescendo, the windows of the library burst open. A stiff wind blew in, extinguishing all candles and whipping Len-Ahl's hair about her. Books fluttered open, and parchments blew across the wide room as the library patrons ducked behind wide stone pillars to avoid the gust. Even Borrel dove under the table, a wild-eyed look on his face.

Len-Ahl pointed in the direction of her billowing hair. "That is our destination," she shouted over the howling wind. "We follow the Faery Footpath and complete Angelica's hope. Let all clouds of doubt flee before this mighty wind, for the world shall be mended and Eversor denied. I say this as the One of Destiny. I say this as the Stonechaser."

Nerris watched her with one arm shielding his face. With her billowing hair, raised chin and shining green eyes, Len-Ahl looked almost a queen herself. Her newfound confidence filled him, as if blown into his senses by the wind around him.

At the same time, an anxious feeling crept into his mind. Len-Ahl had pointed in a west-southwestern direction, and unless their destination resided close, one land lay in their path. Their road led to Yagolhan, where they would have to wade through a war zone, Eversor's cultists, Qabala, and the gods only knew what else.

# Chapter Twenty-Three

THEY LEFT AT first light, as the sun crept over the eastern peaks, bathing Orrigo in soft orange sunlight to chase away the last vestiges of the night. Nerris wanted to wait until Borrel had a chance to fully translate the scrolls, but Jhareth insisted on an early departure.

"Congir has had ample time to collect himself by now," Jhareth said. "Unless you think it might be fun to play hide-and-seek with the Cult's blades all through Orrigo, I suggest we stay one step ahead. Besides, Len-Ahl says we know what we need."

Len-Ahl agreed. "The Cult protects its own. Congir is a menista, a leader of one of the various sects. He will seek to capture us and use us to further his own goals if we remain here."

"Not to mention we'll want to get past western Agos before Lord Duchois finds out about the death of his son," Jhareth said. "I don't relish a visit to the dungeons of Zarseille just now."

Jhareth had purchased four sturdy mounts, in addition to a pack horse, and they saddled them in the inn stables before walking them out to the street. Nerris was a bit worried Len-Ahl would have a difficult time, never riding a horse alone before, but once again she alleviated his fears. She stroked her brown mare's mane, emitting a sound into its ear which sounded half whisper and half hum. The horse accepted her without making a noise, in stark contrast to Nerris's stallion, which clamped its teeth down on Nerris's hand when he tried to pat him. Nerris cried out and pulled his hand away, favoring it.

"Careful," Jhareth said. "That one bites."

"You're supposed to tell me before it does that," Nerris said.

Professor Borrel came out to see them off as they made their final preparations. "Thank you, Nerris," Borrel said. "I have waited for the chance to look upon the Stonechaser Prophecy for years, and I finally have. Rest assured, I will continue to translate the text should you ever need to peruse the rest."

"I appreciate that, Professor," Nerris said. "Thank you for all your help. One thing I'm curious about, however. You mentioned you had laid eyes on these Black Prophecies once. Where did you come across them? I think we would be at an advantage if we could learn more about the enemy."

Borrel sighed. "Alas, they are no more. As I said, I was quite zealous about tracking down the name of Eversor. I found myself all the way at the western fringe of Yagolhan, a place called Regnak Manor in the Mount Zoko region. The man who owned the house had long since passed away, but a few sepps for the caretaker granted me access to the library. A year later, in an unrelated inquiry, I heard the manor burnt to the ground."

Nerris was disappointed, but something tingled in the back of his mind. Hadn't Rade's surname been Regnak, or was it something else?

Jhareth interrupted his thoughts. "All right, let's get on the road. First stop, Gauntlet."

They decided the best route to take would be through the western Gosseen Mountains, skirting the northern shore of Lake Zarseille. If Lord Duchois had learned Nerris killed his son, he would surely have patrols out around Zarseille, so the highroad was no good. Before that, they had to make a brief sojourn.

The city's west gate led out to a dirt trail, which wound up a steep slope. After a mile, it ended at a battered down gate overcome with vines and moss. Beyond, the ruins of the fighting school Gauntlet stood silent, watching over Orrigo even now. Jhareth led them past a shattered tower and to a stone building with no roof. It was the size of a longhall, and the southern wall had been battered in, the stones strewn about the cracked floor.

"This is Gauntlet," Nerris said to Len-Ahl. "This is where it all began for us. We didn't know anything about the world before we came here."

"You mentioned this was a place for nobles to learn the art of combat and command," Len-Ahl said. "How is it they allowed in three boys with no notable birth?"

"It began that way, true," Nerris said, "but as the school expanded, they offered their services to others who could afford it. By the time we came, about a fifth of the school's roster was commoners. Those with no money were put to work in the kitchens and stables as a way of paying for their tuition."

"And the noble gits _loved_ sharing their classes with the help," Dist said. "I don't think I ever suffered as much verbal abuse in my life as when I was here."

Nerris flashed him a grin. "That stopped soon enough, once we began knocking them in the dirt in the practice field."

Once they were inside the wide broken building, they dismounted and Dist prepared a fire while Jhareth retrieved some food from their packs. "Breakfast," he announced. "Who cooked last?"

"Who can say?" Dist said. "The last time we were on the road by ourselves was three years ago."

"I'll cook," Nerris said.

Jhareth grimaced. "Thanks all the same, Nerris, but I made a holy vow never to eat your cooking unless starvation is close. Even then it's up in the air. It's hardly a good omen if we begin this expedition with indigestion."

Nerris threw up his hands. "Pardon me," he said, walking away.

"Let's just draw lots," Dist said.

"No," Jhareth said. "I remember now. I cooked last. We had rabbit stew, garnished with spices from Lord Minoku's kitchen."

"The hell you did," Dist said. "You're making things up. There's no way you could remember that, Jhareth."

Nerris saw to the horses while his friends argued. He knew why Jhareth had picked this place. This building was formerly the mess hall, where they had taken most of their meals while at Gauntlet, since eating outside was a privilege granted to those past their second year.

The school had grown over quite a bit in the past ten years. When King Ullas had declared intent to shutter Gauntlet and demanded the heads of Owen the headmaster and his son, Lord Gaviel Feigh had stood with the Palwells, calling his banners in defiance. King Ullas laid siege to the city, a feat not easily accomplished from the land side, as the only road to Orrigo led from the south and was guarded by a sprawling stone wall straddled between two cliffs.

Len-Ahl came over to him. "What happened to this place?"

"The forces of King Ullas Tornette," Nerris said. "Gauntlet was always thought to be safe. The road here is through the west gate of Orrigo, and it is well situated in the mountains. Only a few secret paths lead down into the valleys."

"And they found these paths?"

Nerris nodded. "We were betrayed by one of our own. Valez Vaed, the third son of a highlord from western Yagolhan. He had friends of his own, two Agossean nobles named Tarias Dinge and Maria Whitewater. Tarias and Maria were torn between their loyalty to their best friend and their love for the school. Before they ran off with him, they returned to Gauntlet to warn us. We fought fiercely, but in the end we were forced to retreat to the city, and Gauntlet was destroyed."

"That is sad," Len-Ahl said. "So many memories for so many people wiped away in one battle."

Nerris pointed to a stone stair which used to lead to the armory, but now led nowhere. "I remember our first year here. That stair was part of an obstacle course which led throughout the school, a grueling course fashioned to push our physical abilities to the limit. Every student had to complete it three times during term. And it changed every year. It was the graduating class's task to design the new path for the coming term." He grinned at her. "Imagine trying to get to the privy with much older boys barreling down the hall at you at frequent intervals."

Len-Ahl laughed. "That does sound inconvenient."

Nerris pointed out the main yard, where they had practiced at combat, first with their hands, moving up to staves and swords, and finally picking a weapon to specialize in. He gestured to a building with half the wall missing, which had been called the Healer's Hut, where those with healing intensive schedules had learned their craft. Trees had sprouted up amongst the ruins where the library and classrooms had once been. Most of the outer walls were still intact, but many of the crenellations were missing.

"Gauntlet had no guards," Nerris said. "The students learned basic military procedures by keeping watch themselves. No one was exempt. It doesn't look it, but this was once a formidable fortress. Some say that's what made the King so paranoid."

"And no one ever restored it?" Len-Ahl asked.

"King Owen planned to, once his father was crowned," Nerris said, "but Owen the Elder died of his wounds and his son elevated to the throne. With matters of state and other priorities, the rebuilding of Gauntlet never got off the ground."

By then, the smell of bacon had begun to waft into his nostrils. Looking back, he saw Jhareth reclining against a large piece of stone while Dist toiled over a frying pan and a pot of oatmeal, muttering curses. It was plain to see who had won that argument. Nerris and Len-Ahl rejoined them, and they ate amongst the ruins and shadows.

They set out again after breakfast and wound their way through the valleys and ravines of the Gosseen Mountains, stopping every night to camp under starlit skies. Jhareth scouted ahead, often climbing up a rock face to get a better view of any hazards which lay ahead. On one particular occasion, they had to lead their horses three miles out of their way to get around a gorge, which dropped off right out of a tree line.

Occasionally, Len-Ahl would play the tune she had learned from the Stonechaser Prophecy on her flute. Every time, the wind picked up into a similar gust they had experienced back in Orrigo. The direction still led toward the southwest, but they stayed on their own western course. It was all but certain the Faery Footpath would lead them across the border, and they could hone in on the first beacon of the Exemplus once they were safely across.

After nearly a week, they crept close to the Yagol border. It would not have taken so long had they cut across northern Agos to the Tormalian Highroad, which ran west to Zarseille and around the southern part of Zarseille Lake. There were no ravines and gorges to navigate around in that fertile stretch of land, but plodding through the mountains would keep them out of the sight of potential foes.

At least Nerris thought so, until Jhareth came back from his scouting one evening with some urgent news. "We'll want to get off the path," he said.

"What's going on?" Nerris asked.

"Soldiers," Jhareth said. "A patrol of some kind. Their sigil depicted a warrior brandishing a morning star."

"House Garero," Nerris said. "I knew we shouldn't have passed so close to the Rockfort."

"They're vassals of House Duchois," Dist explained to Len-Ahl. "Do you think they're looking for us?" he asked Jhareth.

The thief shrugged. "How would I know? It could be a routine patrol, but we don't want to take that chance."

Nerris swore. "All right, let's find a hiding place. No fires tonight, Dist."

They wandered off the game trail they had been following and Jhareth soon found a cave at the top of an incline, shrouded somewhat by the foliage. They led the horses up the slope and into the cavern to wait for the patrol to pass.

That night, Jhareth returned from scouting once again and made his report. "The patrol isn't budging," he said. "I think they're waiting on us."

"News sure travels fast," Nerris said. "I bet they're under orders from Zarseille to intercept us in case we came this way."

"How many are there?" Dist asked.

"Two dozen riders, better equipped than we are," Jhareth said. "Plate armor, gauntlets of lobstered steel, lances as well as swords. You get the idea."

Nerris's heart fell. If it came to a fight, they would not stand a chance against so many. He did not relish having to explain his actions to Lord Laque Duchois. King Owen would probably intervene, assuming their messenger had reached him, and that would set off a whole new slew of political problems for Agos.

"And that's not all," Jhareth continued. "There is a force of men behind us, camped at that ruined stone wall we passed a few miles back."

"More soldiers?" Dist asked.

Jhareth shook his head. "These men wore black robes with white inlays, with runes patterned on them. Some wore metal masks and had long, serrated blades. They had a few locals tied to a tree, and looked to be preparing for a ritual."

"Cultists," Nerris hissed. Congir's men were pursuing them after all.

"How did they track us?" Jhareth asked. "They didn't know what direction we were going."

"Eversor has many foul beings at his disposal," Len-Ahl said. "Some of the more practiced menistas can conjure them into our world to do their bidding. We may be hunted by something we cannot see. Something we do not want to see."

"We have to help those villagers," Nerris said. "They'll kill them all."

"There were thirty of them," Jhareth said. "Even we aren't going to prevail against those odds."

Nerris turned to Len-Ahl. "Would your magic be able to help us? We could take care of thirty men if your songs disabled them like back in Faerlin Castle."

"I am afraid I am not powerful enough to subdue such numbers," Len-Ahl said. "I found myself in over my head back in the great hall, remember."

Nerris clenched his fists, remembering the atrocities he saw in Yahd's Walk and the village of Gelnicka. "We're cornered if we sit here."

"Soldiers to the west, cultists to the east," Len-Ahl said, nodding her head. "One of them is bound to find us."

Dist rubbed at his chin. "Maybe not." He turned to Nerris. "I think I can take care of both problems."

"What are you going to do?" Nerris asked.

Dist grinned. "Trust me. Jhareth, I'll need your assistance." He stood and grabbed a flint and tinderbox. "Get my satchel, if you would."

"Which one?" Jhareth asked.

"The one that's marked _flammable_ ," Dist replied.

Dist and Jhareth disappeared into the night, and Nerris stood watch at the cave mouth. Len-Ahl wrapped a cloak around her body and joined him. "What can they do against so many cultists?" she wondered.

"I've got sort of a general idea," Nerris said. "You'll want to watch for it, Len-Ahl. It's sure to be spectacular."

They waited for almost an hour, but Dist came through. The night sky suddenly came alive with multi-colored lights. Explosions in the air drowned out the crickets as the lights spread out in symmetrical patterns like palm leaves, one after the other. Len-Ahl shrank back, her startled breath visible in the cold of the cave.

"What—"

Nerris laughed. "Aikite fireworks," he said. "I haven't seen those since we attended festivals in Miagama. I see what he had in mind now."

Soon, Nerris could hear other sounds in the dark. Shouts of alarm and the thundering of hooves as the patrol raced through the forest in the direction of the fireworks display. Later still, a horn sounded and the clash of steel echoed around them, along with the screams of the dying. After some time, Dist and Jhareth stumbled back through the mouth of their cave, breathless and grinning.

"Where did you get your hands on Aikite fireworks?" Nerris asked Dist.

"In Ula Aiko." He shrugged. "My own special recipe. I spent three years in the Sicorian deserts perfecting my own blend of the ignition powder they use in the east."

"I don't understand," Len-Ahl said. "It was pretty, but—"

"We crept down to where the cultists were camped," Jhareth said, "right on the other side of that stone wall. Dist set off the fireworks directly over them. Then we ran back into the woods and hid. Some of the cultists came looking for us, but the soldiers arrived long before they got our trail. They took one look at what the cultists had planned for those villagers, and well, you can figure out what happened next. We won't be tailed by the likes of them anymore."

"Dist, you're a genius," Nerris said, laughing.

Dist inclined his head modestly. "Just doing what I can with what I have."

They made the decision to leave that night, rather than wait for morning. With any luck, they would be past Garero lands by then and be out of the patrol's range. However, Nerris couldn't help but wonder if they were in for more problems ahead. If Len-Ahl was correct, whatever had led the cultists onto their trail was still out there, and they were going right into the heart of the Cult's power. Were the Yagol borders guarded, or was Qabala too busy fighting Prince Lahnel in the south? They were drawing ever closer, and would find out soon.

# Chapter Twenty-Four

CANDLELIGHT ILLUMINATED THE Aeternica's royal sitting room, where Queen Qabala Aeterna reclined on a divan. She held an old grimoire to her face, reading feverishly about animal totems. Every so often, she paused to take a sip of wine from a goblet on a table to her left.

Reading had always been a dull task for her. She never thought to learn until the Tattered Man insisted on it, his pallid face ever looming in her mind. After she freed herself from the ravishing of her foster father, he had led her to a remote cavern in the hinterlands. A treasure trove of gold coins had been stored within. He had called it her inheritance, and she used it to pay her way through the University at Lhan Del.

She was grateful for the learning now, especially since she had been consecrated Aeterna. A ruler needed to read, and so she did, resisting the impulse to spend her energy on books of astronomy.

This text was a translation from a tome of ancient times, detailing the Promehan beliefs that every human had an individual kinship with a specific animal. They could use the wisdom of their totem to help guide their lives, shaping their futures and, at times, even share that animal's form. No record of a successful transformation had survived as far as she could tell, but she held the Doom Rock within her. It would enable her to do much beyond the scope of ordinary men if she could find out how it was done.

A knock sounded on the door, and the guard outside announced Dume Yorne. Qabala put her book down and bade him enter. The older man once known as Rade entered her sitting room in full armor. He had claimed his old bones were too weary to hold up the traditional full plate of a Dume-General, but Qabala had insisted and commissioned the suit for the legendary Dume herself. Despite his protests, he wore it well. The suit of armor was gray from head to toe, with a crest bearing the sword and scroll sigil of a Dume-General upon the breast. Yorne carried his helm, an intricate work of steel with curling horns adorning either side, and smiled as he went to one knee.

"My Eternal," he said.

Qabala stood. "Rise, your Constancy." The old man rose, and she noted the road dust marring his splendid armor. He had ridden fast to arrive here.

"I bring news from the south," Yorne said. "We stopped the forces of Dume Rhonor from wheeling around the mountains and flanking Palehorse from the west, but at considerable cost, and Rhonor managed to retreat to Lesta."

Qabala frowned. "Prince Lahnel is getting bolder. I don't like this." Ever since she took Palehorse, Lahnel had remained entrenched at Lesta. The mountainous regions of southeast Yagolhan were a difficult field to fight in, but it was his ancestral home. Even though Qabala had the numbers on her side, he had repelled all her attempts to secure a foothold in the mountains and launch a campaign against Lesta itself. He had been content to stay holed up in the mountains beating back her soldiers, until recently. This was his second attempt at launching an offensive against the capital.

"There were others in the foothills as well," Yorne said. "Not five leagues southeast of here, we were harried by a force of archers as we returned along the highway. Experienced foresters, surely. Their numbers were not copious enough to commit to a serious battle, but they were able to make themselves seem greater in number than they were."

"What are they doing this close to Palehorse?" Qabala wondered.

Yorne shrugged. "Making a nuisance of themselves, mostly. When I sent out men to find them, they melted back into the trees. Testimony from the locals indicates they've been there for quite some time. It's almost as if they're waiting for something."

Qabala thought for a moment. "If they're too weak to attack and too nimble to catch, there's not much we can do except warn any force we send down the highroad to beware."

"Yes, my Eternal," Yorne said.

"What about casualties?" Qabala asked.

"We lost nearly two thousand, most of them cultists from the front line," Yorne said. "You were right; they make the perfect vanguard. Say _infidel_ and point at the enemy, and they run off howling."

"Well, I have no shortage of cultists," Qabala said. She had sent the foul zealots into the front line of every battle, but it seemed as if two more showed up for every one that died. Ever since they had taken the city, Meznas had been filtering his people into Palehorse and recruiting from the population. Every day produced new converts, each willing to lay down his life for her in the name of Eversor.

Yorne noticed the worried look on her face. "This stalemate will not last forever, my Eternal. It was a wise move to dispatch Dume Falares and Dume Lukas to the north. They will bring back many recruits and our ranks will swell. We will wear him down eventually."

"It's not that." Qabala said. She wanted to share her fears that the Cult of Eversor was gaining too much power, that when her coming quest was complete there would be no need for men to give their hearts over to a stranger from beyond their world. Something about her Dume-General made her want to confide, but she stifled those notions. "Never mind. You are dismissed. I would have you attend me at supper tonight, so I advise you to wash that dust off in the interim."

Yorne gave her a small smile and bowed. "You honor me, my Eternal. By your leave."

The old man winked before he departed. Qabala hated when he did that, making him seem as if privy to some secret joke. Still, she had grown fond of the wayward Dume-General. He told her many stories about Yahd the Unifier and the other Dume-Generals of his time. He had genuine affection for her as well, though she couldn't quite put her finger on its nature. He did not look at her like other men did, with lust barely disguised behind their smiles. His affection was more innocent, but no less potent.

No sooner had Yorne departed than Meznas was announced without. The Grand Menista of the Cult of Eversor had slicked his hair back, revealing a widow's peak, and walked with his hands joined together by his robe's wide sleeves. He went to a knee also, and Qabala ordered him to stand.

"My Eternal," Meznas said. "How does this day find you?"

"Restless," Qabala said, "and Dume Yorne's report hasn't alleviated any of my anxiety. I want this war done, Meznas. How am I to restore the Aristian Empire while wasting precious manpower on those barren mountains?"

"I have faith Eversor will guide us to victory soon," he said. "My people are restless as well. They yearn to go out into the world, to convert the infidels and set in motion the Rebirth Cataclysmic."

"I hear one of your menistas has already begun," Qabala said.

"You speak of Congir," Meznas said. "He was ever a fervent son of the Preserver."

"It's folly," Qabala said. "Faernans are not like Yagols. The love of Clystam is embedded deep within their souls. Yagolhan feared Yala for three thousand years, and it's no surprise our people cast her aside once she fled. They were amenable to your faith, but Clystam took a gentler hand with his children. They will resist, and I don't believe your Congir quite grasps that concept."

"Some would say that would be advantageous," Meznas said. "Chaos in Faerna will make your conquest all the easier. And once Clystam's followers in Faerna unite under the Tattered Man, all of his children will fall in line. Agos, Hilonia, and parts of Dellain will be ours, in a spiritual sense at least."

"And if Congir fails, the Faernans and their allies will unite stronger than ever," she said.

"He has the divine will of Eversor on his side," Meznas said, "and by midsummer the Kolmian Alliance itself will be in turmoil."

Qabala rubbed at her eyes. Battles, cultists, princes, menistas, alliances. Her kingdom had more knots than a cat-whip. That was why she had been reading books on magic. She hoped to find the right blade to slice through those knots.

Meznas smiled. "Do not despair, my Eternal, for I bring welcome news. Speaking of Congir, he had a bit of trouble recently when a sacrifice was interrupted in Faerlin. The perpetrators set off to Orrigo and across the mountains and Congir sent a force after them, along with a malamula to sniff out their tracks."

"Malamula?"

"A gift from Eversor, raised from his realm to aid us," Meznas said. "An unseen watcher, hidden in shadow, which can cover great distances in a short time. It will follow its target to the end of the world if need be, and report its findings back to its master. In any case, the believers Congir sent after these blasphemers led them to the Gosseen Mountains, where our brethren were eradicated by a patrol from a nearby castle. With no one to report to, the malamula has come to me instead, being the Grand Menista."

"Is there a point to this?" Qabala asked.

"The blasphemers have continued on through our borders," Meznas said. "One of them is a man who carries a curved blade at his side and answers to the name Nerris."

The name sent a jolt through Qabala's body. "Nerris? Nerris Palada?"

"The physical description is more or less the same," Meznas said. "He travels with three others. Two men who are most assuredly the other Thrillseekers, and a woman."

"And where are they bound?"

"Southwest, toward the Lhan Del region," Meznas said.

Excitement raced through Qabala's veins. "You have brought me a great gift, Meznas."

"I thought these tidings might please you, my Eternal," Meznas said. "Now if you will excuse me, I must attend to other matters."

"Go now, with my thanks," Qabala said. The Grand Menista bowed and made his exit.

Qabala stood and walked to the window, which overlooked the Blue River, gazing deep into the purple twilight. Her Nerris was coming back to her. Why else would he return to Yagolhan, if not for her? And he had brought help. War or not, she must make a journey soon, and the Thrillseekers were the perfect men to root out what she sought. She had no idea who the woman might be; perhaps a guide through the mountains.

So much to do. Falares and Lukas would need to dispatch a force with haste to take her love in hand. Nerris deserved a grand welcome back to Palehorse, and only an escort of Dume-Generals would suffice. Their captains could take care of raising a few soldiers. This was much more important, and a thousand thoughts of pleasure washed over her at once.

The thought of having him back made her so disconsolate she even thought about calling Meeka into her bed. It had once been her pleasure to take her slave nightly. After her experiences growing up, she had not taken a man into her bed for many years. She had been curious about what pleasure men found in sex with women, and when Lord Kelke had gifted her with his personal bed slave upon joining her cause, she felt it was time to find out. Her romps with Meeka ended the first time she shared blankets with Nerris, though the girl still slept in the bed with her at times. She was faithful to her love, even when he had left her.

A breeze picked up, the candlelight flickering and casting shadows about her sitting room. She felt a presence within the chamber and turned to behold the hazy form of the Tattered Man in his lifeless gray robes. He looked at her with no expression, and his mouth did not move when he spoke, but she heard his voice nonetheless.

_"I see you have finally gotten your wish,"_ the Tattered Man said.

Qabala nodded. "I have prayed for this, to Yala and Clystam and to any other god who might answer. For over six months. I have missed him, Pale One."

_"Yet you still do not give your heart to Eversor."_

"My heart is my own," Qabala said. "I have seen what the love of Eversor does to those who truly believe."

_"You are the holder of the Fatexion. You will not be a sheep to be shepherded. You will rule over this world while Eversor wages his true war."_

"And it will be a place without pain or sorrow," Qabala said. "Yes, I've heard you say this before. I am grateful for your help, Pale One. You have freed me, allowed me to accomplish my dreams. So I allow your cult to flourish, and flourish it has. After all, I can now see you with my own eyes. Is that not a sign of increasing power?"

_"It is. But I fear you give yourself too fully to these other distractions. If you truly wish to aid in the Rebirth Cataclysmic, you will need both the Exemplus and the Fatexion."_

"The Thrillseekers will be the key to that," Qabala said. "It's said they can seek out any treasure. They even found the Lost City of Visao once, if the stories are true."

_"Not the Thrillseekers. The one who travels with them."_

"The girl?" Qabala said. "What does she have to do with this?"

_"Everything. If you wish to hold the Exemplus as well, find them. Menista Congir saw into this girl's heart. She is the key to the Exemplus, and must be taken in hand."_

"What do I care for some girl?" Qabala asked. "Let her feed the dogs. Nerris is all I need. He is all I want."

_"He will not have you, not so long as this girl draws breath."_ The Tattered Man's usual monotonous tone became more harried. She had never known him to betray any emotion, but now she sensed anger in his words.

"Are you telling me he has taken up with some slattern?" Qabala demanded.

_"Your perspective is skewed,"_ the Tattered Man said. _"All that matters now is the Exemplus. The Fatexion was merely the first part. I was led to believe you would be the one to find the Exemplus, but I was mistaken. Angelica's last trick. I know now it is this girl who holds the secrets. She must not be allowed to acquire that power. The prophecy must be broken, and it must be you who does it."_

"And once I have the Exemplus?" Qabala asked.

_"Then she will be of no further consequence, and you may dispose of her at your leisure. Only after that will you have your Nerris, for good and all."_

The hazy form shimmered and the Tattered Man disappeared. Qabala bit at her fingernails. She did not like the sound of that at all. Had Nerris found someone else during his absence? It was absurd. She and Nerris shared a soul, and not a day went by that she did not regret driving him away. She knew he felt the same way. He had to. Yet now he was within her reach again. As soon as she sent word, Falares and Lukas would scour the countryside and bring them all to Palehorse.

What the Tattered Man said had shaken her. Ever since the first time he came to her in her dreams, back when she was a little girl, she knew him to be correct in all things. Yet he had not foreseen this. If this girl who traveled with the Thrillseekers was the true Stonechaser, what did that make her? Was all of this meant for that girl?

Qabala pounded on the window sill with a fist. Even if that was the case, she would not let it come to pass. This world would not know peace until she held it in the palm of her hand. What did some girl know of the heart of humanity and the eternal joy she intended to spread once the Rebirth Cataclysmic was at hand? She was Queen Qabala Aeterna. Nerris, Yagolhan, and the Fatexion belonged to her and no one else.

# Chapter Twenty-Five

NERRIS LIFTED THE leather flap of his tent and stared out into the cold morning air. Rain still fell in flat droplets, replacing the lush green hillside and dirt track of the day before with soggy grass and mud. They would not be able to continue on until the sky cleared. Dist had already caught a cold from the unseasonable chilly weather, and Nerris found himself sniffling as well.

It had been like that ever since they left Agos. Crossing the border went smoothly at first. A border patrol found them, and they were herded to a nearby outpost for questioning, but Jhareth had done more preparing in Orrigo than they knew. Before crossing, he revealed two slavers' robes for him and Nerris to wear, and collars for Dist and Len-Ahl. He twined rope between the collars and tied their hands, and they muddied themselves a bit, passing as runaway slaves. Slavery was prohibited by law in Agos, but there were Yagol slavers who hovered at the border, always ready to flit across and capture the runaways before they got far, returning them to Yagolhan and selling them for a quick profit. It was enough of a common practice that the border guards let them go after some general questions.

Once they cleared the western edge of Zarseille Lake, Len-Ahl resumed her fluting. The accompanying winds blew them toward the southwest until they arrived at this spot, many leagues west of Lhan Del in the foothills of the Vilder Mountains. Len-Ahl claimed they were getting closer, as the gusts of wind grew stronger with each playing of the Prophecy's song. However, due to the rain and the fact that they had no idea what they were looking for, they made camp just north of a village called Kesev.

When they all had awakened, they gathered in Jhareth's tent to figure out what to do next. "The Stonechaser Prophecy mentioned 'beacons' we have to find," Nerris said. "Presumably so we know we're still on the Exemplus's trail."

"Yes," Len-Ahl said. "This first beacon will guide us to the next, then the next, and so on until the Faery Footpath ends."

Dist scratched his head. "It seems like a convoluted way to do it. Why not send us straight to the Exemplus?"

"You must remember there are others who seek this power," Len-Ahl said. "What if the Cult were to get their hands on it? Eversor's emergence would be all but assured."

"I'm wondering how many of these beacons there are," Jhareth said. "I mean, how long will it take us to get to the end?"

"I am not sure," Len-Ahl said, "but I can guess. Ensuring no one but the true Stonechaser finds the Exemplus would require the magicks of nature itself to enforce. Queen Angelica had four brothers; add in her power and the number of beacons is five."

"That still doesn't get us any closer to this one," Nerris said. "It's not just raining, but the wind is blowing as well, so 'Paral's breath' is useless to us right now."

"We should ask the villagers," Jhareth said. "They surely know the area well. Any landmarks or odd occurrences won't have gotten by them."

Len-Ahl nodded. "I will go." She garbed herself in a cloak and lifted the tent flap.

"Right now?" Nerris asked.

"Our encounter with the cultists in the Gosseen Mountains worries me. They must have the help of their god if they picked up our trail that quickly. We are in the heart of the Tattered Man's power now, and must get what we came for and keep moving."

"At least let us come with you," Nerris said.

Len-Ahl shook her head. "You must not. I was playing my flute last night and sensed great sorrow in this place. Three armed men would not be welcome."

Without another word she disappeared into the wet morning, lifting the hood of her cloak against the rain. Jhareth watched her go and closed the tent flap when she walked out of sight. "I thought you two would be sharing a tent by now," he said to Nerris.

Nerris rolled his eyes. "Are we going to start with that again?"

Jhareth grinned. "She's begging for you to make a move, and I think you want her too."

"I agree," Dist said. "Why are you so reluctant, Nerris? That's not like you."

Nerris thought of Qabala, and the disaster their liaison had brought. Len-Ahl did not have the burdens of an Aeterna, but it felt wrong to court her while she grew accustomed to the outside world. She had her journey for the Exemplus also, and that was most important. Nothing should get in the way.

"It's not the right time," Nerris said. "We have an urgent mission to attend to, and the stakes are too high to get distracted."

Jhareth and Dist shared a bemused look. "Is this about Ketsuya?" Jhareth asked.

A lump formed in Nerris's throat at the mention of her name. Immediately her oval-shaped face came to mind and he saw her lustrous black hair and olive skin, her angular brown eyes and proud smile. It was almost more than he could bear. "You two are insufferable."

"It _is_ about her," Dist said. "Nerris, you can't blame yourself for that. The Akuma War was a tragic time, and Ketsuya was a great woman, but if you carry her death on your back for much longer you'll never be able to move on."

Nerris glanced at the ground to his left, where his katana rested in its scabbard. Noruken, Sword of the Shooting Star, the blade forged by Kenjo Minoku a thousand years past. He had acquired it three years ago from Ketsuya Minoku as a gift to commemorate their betrothal. Funny how in such a short time he came to regard it as his sword, and barely thought of the Minokus upon looking at it. "Ketsuya was not a great woman," he said. "She was _the_ woman. Len-Ahl is sweet, yes, kind and beautiful, and in a different life I wouldn't think twice. But I could never be with her, knowing I'll never love her."

"I see," Jhareth said. "You're protecting her?"

Nerris nodded. "It would destroy her, whether she knew it or not. Not at once perhaps, but over time, and I won't do that to her."

Jhareth shook his head. "Sooner or later you'll have to put yourself out there again. Ketsuya would want that."

"Oh, you two are going to lecture me on love?" Nerris asked. "How many women have you bothered to really know, Jhareth? And Dist, remember your disastrous courtship of Fayla?" The look on Dist's face plainly said he didn't want to talk about Fayla, so Nerris dropped it and turned away from them. "Stay out of my love life, both of you. We have more important things to do."

Jhareth and Dist knew him well enough to know that particular conversation was over, and they gave him his space. They made small talk for an hour before Len-Ahl returned to the tent, dripping wet.

"I think I found the place we are looking for," she said, excited.

"What happened?" Jhareth asked.

"I asked around," Len-Ahl said, "and I was right. A week ago, soldiers from the south swept through and conscripted all the men for the Aeterna's army. Then the Cult came through and sacrificed the elderly." She shuddered. "The women and children remain, and they are feeling vulnerable. I was able to cozy up to them and they told me various stories, mostly village folklore and local superstition. But they said there is a cave about a mile north of the village that has an odd history."

"What kind of history?" Dist asked.

"Strange noises in the night, men going in and never coming back out, that kind of thing," Len-Ahl said. "It got to the point where the villagers collapsed the entrance about twenty years ago, and all has been quiet since. They tried to warn me away, but I insisted they give me directions."

Jhareth thought that over. "It sounds like a decent lead. Nice work, Len-Ahl. You would make a good Thrillseeker."

Len-Ahl beamed and turned to Dist. "We will need to clear the cave mouth somehow. I have been thinking of those fireworks you used in the Gosseen Mountains. Do you have anything stronger than that, perhaps?"

Dist smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Great," Nerris said a bit shortly. "We'll leave when the rain stops."

"Is something wrong?" Len-Ahl asked.

Nerris glanced at Dist and Jhareth and knew at once they weren't about to tell Len-Ahl anything about Miagama, or why he could not be with her. He would do it himself when the time was right. "It's nothing."

The rain let up a few hours later, and they made time for a bite of breakfast before breaking camp and riding to the northwest. Len-Ahl led the way atop her mare, and they snaked through trees and crossed a stream. Soon enough they climbed a hill to behold a rock face on the side of a steep slope. The mountain in front of them was quite tall and would have obscured the sun had it been evening.

Though twenty years had given rise to patches of moss and great vines, it was easy enough to spot where the people of Kesev collapsed the cave entrance. While the rock face was uniform, a close-knit mass of boulders and rocks marked where they would need to go.

"We'll want to tie the horses down the hill a ways," Dist said, pointing back in the direction they had come from. "Just to be safe."

They did as he said, and Dist pulled several small casks from his satchel. He went to a sack hanging from their pack horse and filled the casks with a dark-colored substance.

"Where did you get all that ignition powder?" Nerris asked. "You were traveling fairly light back in Haladast."

"I keep some things stored in Orrigo," Dist said. "Lord Feigh looks after them for me. I figured we might need some power on this trip."

"Why Orrigo?"

Dist shrugged. "It's too cumbersome to carry all of my tools on the road. I figured if I ever went on another treasure hunt, Orrigo is the best starting point in northern Tormalia." Once the casks were filled, he brought out a hammer and pounded the lids on tight. He threaded a wick through small holes in the center and carried them down the hill.

He spent some time arranging them at the old cave mouth, putting one on top of the boulders and moving it down a few feet upon thinking on it. Using a small shovel from his pack, he dug out two holes near the base of the rocks. He placed the remaining casks within. Nerris and the others watched from atop the hill, and Dist waved up at them after lighting a torch.

"Get down behind that felled tree," he called, "and put your hands over your ears. This is going to be loud!"

They trudged back over the crest of the hill, where a large tree had been knocked over during a storm. Its overhanging limbs provided some shelter from any debris. They crouched down and sat against the rough bark, putting their hands over their ears and ducking their heads. Dist joined them a few moments later, out of breath from running up the steep hill.

After a brief wait, three detonations sounded, one after the other. The ground vibrated and Nerris's ears rang despite his best efforts. He heard Len-Ahl cry out in shock as rocks and dirt rained all around them. Several boulders fell out of the sky, crashing close to where the horses were tied. The poor animals were scared out of their wits, and strained to free their reins from the tree trunks. A rock the size of a man's fist struck Jhareth on the elbow, and he made several threats on Dist's life as a result.

It took a few more moments, but the debris finally stopped falling. Dist extricated himself from their hiding place and looked over the hill before giving them the nod. Nerris joined his friend to see what damage had been done.

The cave mouth was not only wide open, but much of the rock face was gone as well. Even through the thick dust, Nerris couldn't believe the gaping hole Dist's explosives had left.

"Blue winds," Len-Ahl said breathlessly as she stopped beside him.

Jhareth grabbed some more torches and they went down the hill to take a closer look. Dist stood a few feet away from the opening, surveying the broken stones. "I may have miscalculated. Three casks of ignition powder was a bit much."

"You think?" Jhareth asked as he stood under the mouth of the cave, looking around at the wide berth.

"I could put it back the way it was, if you want," Dist said. "Get me a ladder and I could find a way to stick my casks to the inside of the ceiling—"

"That's all right, Dist," Nerris said. "Let's wait until after we get what we came for."

"Be mindful," Len-Ahl said. "This cave was most likely forged by one of the kings of the elements. We must proceed with caution."

"Which means there could be traps," Jhareth said. "I'll lead the way."

Dist lit a torch for himself and handed another to Jhareth. They entered the cave and found themselves in a narrow tunnel. Jhareth stayed in front and Nerris and Len-Ahl followed him, with Dist bringing up the rear. However, their torches proved to be of little use. The tunnel curved unexpectedly and they noticed a faint, peculiar glow ahead. As they rounded the bend, Jhareth stopped short.

The stone walls of the tunnel were lined with sconces, each with a burning torch housed within.

"Clystam's mercy," Dist muttered as he stared at the lit path. "This cave has been collapsed for twenty years. How could these torches still be burning?"

"Everlasting fire," Len-Ahl said. "This is the work of Jinn and the salamanders. These will burn as long as he wills it."

Jhareth continued to lead them down the tunnel, which snaked deeper and deeper. Sometimes he would motion for them to stop and check for traps, feeling the wall with his hands, rifling through every nook and crevice. He also threw rocks ahead of them to test the cave's stability.

He found nothing to cause concern and they continued on their way, their path lit courtesy of the King of Fire. Down in the dark it was difficult to tell how much time passed, but the tunnel finally emptied into a wide room. A stench pervaded their nostrils as they entered, a musty and acrid odor.

Jhareth sniffed. "What is that?"

"Sulfur," Dist said. "I definitely recognize it. It's one of the ingredients in ignition powder."

The chamber was rounded, and the ceiling stood about thirty feet off the ground. Braziers were set up at intervals along the room's outer rim, each burning with Jinn's eternal fire and giving them more than enough light to see every inch of the open space. A dais rested at the chamber's far end, with two more braziers burning on either side of it.

On the dais, a dusty statue looked down on them. The figure was male, his arms folded across his chest. A loincloth covered his lower body, and his hair had been carved wavy and distended, like the flames of a campfire. He may have had a man's shape, but there was a quality more than human about him.

"Is that Jinn?" Nerris asked Len-Ahl.

She nodded. "Look upon his chest."

Nerris did as she said. Above his folded arms, something shiny was embedded in his chest. It was a medallion the size of Nerris's palm, round and golden in color.

"Is that what we're after?" Jhareth asked, a glint in his eyes.

"Yes," Len-Ahl said. "I must be the one to take it. Jhareth, please watch for dangers."

Jhareth nodded, and they started forward. As they approached the statue, Dist came to an abrupt stop and leaned over. "What is it?" Nerris asked, looking back.

"My foot caught on something." Dist brushed the dirt aside with his boot. Not satisfied, he crouched down and dug with his hands, lifting something out of the dirt floor. He cried out in surprise and swore, flinging the object away. It landed in front of Nerris, and his eyes grew wide. It was old and deteriorated, but he knew what the top half of a human skull looked like.

Jhareth swore also and whipped out two of his knives. Nerris yanked Noruken from its scabbard and brandished it in both hands, looking around. Dist found his feet and raised the Big Black, three bolts ready to loose. Len-Ahl approached the skull, hand across her mouth to hide her revulsion.

"Why would it bury its victims?" Jhareth asked.

"To lure more people in," Nerris answered.

No sooner were those words spoken than a series of low growls resonated throughout the chamber. The wall burst open in several places, as if Dist's exploding casks had been placed inside. Shadowy forms stepped out of the new holes and through the rock dust, screeching defiance at them.

The creatures' bodies resembled lions, with hairy manes and powerful hind legs ending in sharp claws on each paw. Their heads were those of hawks, feathery with round, unforgiving eyes and hooked beaks. Instinctively, Nerris stepped in front of Len-Ahl, and Jhareth and Dist took up positions on her other side. A quick count put their stalkers at a half-dozen.

The beasts made to surround them, blocking off both the dais and the entrance. They crept closer, their beaks snapping open and shut with a hollow sound as their bodies made ready to pounce. Nerris thought of the unearthed skull, and hoped the fate of that unknown adventurer would not find them this deep in the earth.

# Chapter Twenty-Six

WHAT ARE THESE things?" Nerris brandished his blade and feinted at the nearest creature, causing it to retreat a few steps and screech at him once again.

"Guardians," Len-Ahl said. "They were placed here to protect Jinn's treasure from falling into unworthy hands. In the world of men, they are known as griffins."

Nerris recalled the name, and remembered seeing images of similar creatures carved from stone in various places during his travels, usually as a symbol of wealth and power. As the griffins closed in, Dist loosed a bolt at the one nearest to him. Faster than he could blink, another griffin leapt in front of its comrade, snatching the bolt out of the air with its beak. After a contemptuous glare at Dist, it snapped the missile in two.

"Why are they threatening us?" Jhareth asked. "You're the Stonechaser, aren't you?"

"They should be connected in some way with that medallion," Len-Ahl said. "If I can get to it, they will know me."

"All right, that settles it," Nerris said. "Time to clear a path."

The Thrillseekers charged, each emitting a battle cry. Nerris swung Noruken in a tight arc toward the neck of the nearest griffin, but it darted out of the way with ease. Jhareth moved his knives faster than any of them could think, but not quick enough. The beasts dodged his slices with surprising speed. As another griffin sneaked up on Nerris's flank, Dist sent another bolt whizzing through the air. This one struck home in the griffin's neck, and it cried out in pain.

Nerris turned and brought his katana down. The immaculate edge cleaved into the creature's neck, and it fell to the ground. Instead of blood, dust poured out of its wound and the griffin melted away, becoming no more than stones and pebbles. However, another section of the wall exploded and a new griffin emerged to join its brethren.

"You have got to be joking," Nerris said.

Jhareth and Dist managed to create an opening for Len-Ahl, and she dashed toward the statue of Jinn. Nerris fought off two griffins, who swiped at him with their claws extended, and one of them saw her. Without a sound it leapt into the air, sailing over all of them to land in front of Len-Ahl. She skidded to a stop and fell backward as the creature advanced on her like a cat stalking a mouse.

The distraction caused Nerris to lose his focus for a moment, and one of his opponent's claws tore into his shoulder. Leather and cloth ripped, blood flew, and pain filled Nerris's brain. He parried another swipe and his responding slash turned another griffin into rock dust. Another blast shattered part of the wall, and a new griffin emerged to join the fray.

Dist abandoned his arrows and rushed to Len-Ahl's aid, swinging at the griffin with the spike on the underside of the Big Black. It ducked under every one of his attacks, but still kept itself between them and the statue. Nerris heard Jhareth swear and turned to see his friend holding his arm, one of his knives forgotten on the floor. Nerris charged the griffin threatening him and sent his katana whooshing through the darkness to give his friend some space. The griffin scampered away from the flashing steel.

"We can't keep this up forever," Jhareth said.

"This must be how they fight," Nerris said. "They wear down their prey before going for the kill."

"Right," Jhareth said. "We need to end this now." He glanced back at Dist, who now held off three of the guardians. "Remember what we did at Visao with that high ledge?" he asked Nerris.

Nerris nodded in understanding as the griffins lunged at Dist. When one knocked the crossbow from his hands, he drew a short sword and continued the fight. Jhareth and Nerris ran toward the statue, with Nerris taking up the position at Dist's side. Jhareth knelt down onto all fours behind them.

"Visao," Nerris told Dist. He looked at Nerris and grunted in affirmation.

"Len-Ahl! Go over us!" Jhareth shouted.

Nerris was not sure she would understand what they wanted her to do, but he heard her feet hitting the floor behind him as she ran toward Jhareth, and her intake of breath as she stepped onto his back and leapt into the air. Nerris and Dist knelt, giving her a boost when she landed with a foot on each of their backs. They pushed off at the same time, launching her high above the heads of the griffins. Their bird-like eyes followed her as she arced over them. She landed at Jinn's feet and stumbled, sprawling onto the dais.

The Thrillseekers charged the griffins at once, before they could attack Len-Ahl. Weapons sliced through the air and guardians flitted away from the lethal blows. Len-Ahl made it to her feet and grabbed at the medallion in Jinn's chest. After a couple of pulls, she braced her foot against the statue and ripped the object from it.

She held it in the air as Nerris, Dist and Jhareth continued to battle the griffins. She spoke in a language which was not Tormalian, a red glow emanating from the medallion. The griffins stopped their assault and their heads turned toward her as one, rapt in attention. After a final word from Len-Ahl, they bowed their heads and faded away, leaving nary a trace they had ever been there.

Nerris relaxed a bit, but didn't put his sword away. He exchanged looks with his friends, and saw they were of the same mind.

"It is all right," Len-Ahl said. "It is done."

"Where did they go?" Dist asked.

"They returned to the Faery Realm," she said. "They are still among us, but can no longer harm us in a physical sense. They have fulfilled their purpose."

Nerris sighed with relief, and remembered his shoulder. Upon examining it, the pain renewed itself and Nerris winced at the blood dripping down his arm. The wound gushed quite a bit, but looked to be superficial. The griffin had not torn any ligaments or muscles. Jhareth favored his left arm as well, and Dist examined a hole in his trousers.

"One of them bit me in the leg," he explained.

They put away their weapons and Dist picked up the Big Black as Jhareth retrieved his lost knife. He asked to see the medallion, and Len-Ahl gave it to him. It appeared to be made of gold, perfectly rounded, polished to perfection. Writing was etched into one side, four lines of runes Nerris recognized as the same language the Stonechaser Prophecy had been written in.

"This is the famous treasure of the Stonechaser Prophecy?" Jhareth asked. "If this is real gold it would be worth a fair fortune, but not the endless wealth I've been led to believe."

"Jhareth," Nerris said.

"Yes, I know. 'Beacon to light the path' and all that. Still, once this journey is over we'll have no use for it. Maybe then I could take it to get appraised—"

A low rumble reverberated throughout the chamber and before they could question it, the floor began to shake.

Len-Ahl's eyes went wide. "We must go!"

As they moved toward the entrance, great fireballs burst from the holes which had housed the griffins. Their hasty walk became a desperate sprint, and they ran back through the tunnel as fire filled the room behind them, the heat beating at their backs. Jhareth took the lead, snaking through the path with the burning torches, whose fire had now turned white hot.

Len-Ahl proved to be an adept runner, which surprised Nerris, given how short her legs were. She kept up with Jhareth as he and Dist lagged behind, but her stamina was not great and she soon slowed. Finally, she stumbled and pitched headlong to the dirt. Nerris ran to her aid and lifted her to her feet, throwing her over his shoulder without even stopping.

The heat grew almost unbearable, and Nerris chanced a glance behind them. Flames consumed the entire tunnel, licking at their heels. At last, he spotted daylight ahead, peeking through the great hole Dist had made with his ignition powder.

Jhareth and Dist emerged first, darting in opposite directions as soon as they cleared the mouth of the cave. Nerris ran through a moment later, Len-Ahl still flung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He followed Jhareth to the left, and not a moment later the fire burst from the cave with a deafening roar, engulfing everything in front of it.

After a few moments of intense heat, the flames receded and all became quiet. The sun had come out, and no clouds drifted across the sky. After putting Len-Ahl down and making sure everyone was all right, they climbed back over the hill as lava poured out of the cave mouth, enough to seal it up completely once it hardened.

"It was a dormant volcano," Dist said. "That must be why there was so much sulfur."

Jhareth tossed the medallion back to Len-Ahl and she caught it. "What happened?" he asked.

"These places forged by the elementals have great power," Len-Ahl said. "Now that the Faery Footpath has begun, the cave no longer has a purpose. Jinn must have felt it better to remove it from the world rather than leave it for anyone to find."

They retrieved their frightened mounts, but rather than ride away, Jhareth motioned for them to lead the horses down the hill until he found a good place to set up camp. "I think that's enough for right now," he said, sounding put out. "I fancy a bite to eat, a dip in that stream, and a long nap."

"What's the matter with you?" Nerris asked.

"Nerris, I almost got blown up today. Twice."

They were all bruised and bloody, aside from Len-Ahl, but she was covered in dirt from head to toe. Jhareth brought out some bandages and gauze from their packs and they began to field dress their wounds while she went down to the stream to wash herself off.

"All right, we found the first beacon," Dist said. "Now what? How do we go about finding the next?"

"The writing on it looks to be the same as the Prophecy," Nerris said. "We should go back to Orrigo and enlist the services of Professor Borrel again. Maybe it tells us where to go."

Dist had a fire going by the time Len-Ahl came back, her face clean and her golden hair wet. Nerris, Dist and Jhareth took their turn at the stream, washing out their cuts and applying fresh gauze. Nerris's shoulder still stung, but he had suffered worse in his life. As long as he took care of his shoulder and it did not get infected, he would be fine in time.

He told Len-Ahl their plan over supper that evening, but she shook her head. "There is no need to go back. I can tell you what those words say."

Nerris looked at her, and she averted her gaze, biting her lip. How could she know what those runes said when she had denied knowing how to read the Stonechaser Prophecy? "How can that be?" he asked. "Are you telling me you are able to read the faery language?"

"When I touched the medallion, it burned," she said, her voice dropping low. "Not on my skin, but in my mind. I felt Jinn's presence, branding me with his will. When it cooled, the language was there. I looked at the runes and knew what they said." She took a breath and recited:

_Sekleur yos, os loshquiven varou_

_Nureor lohen tamlie_

_Hajen yolxa ale dal jamou_

_Adee sallivan ie yiamlie_

"What does it mean?" Nerris asked.

Len-Ahl closed her eyes, and he was surprised to see a tear flow down her cheek. "I need a little time, Nerris. So much information at once... it was not a particularly pleasant experience. Fire is not a gentle element. There are other things you must know first."

Nerris put down his fork and called Dist and Jhareth over. "All right, we're listening," he told her.

Len-Ahl took a breath. "First, you must understand the true history of the faeries. When the world was young, no more than a lifeless husk floating through the cosmos, the four elements were created, represented by the kings Gobe, Nixsa, Paral, and Jinn. When the four ascended to their protective roles, life was born in the form of a single flower. That plant is now known as the angelica flower."

Jhareth whistled low. "I think I see where this is headed."

"Yes," Len-Ahl said. "When it bloomed, the first faery was born. The kings bowed before her and named her Queen Angelica. She had the power to create life in the form of plants and beasts, and the spirits of these lives branched off to form other faeries to watch over and guide them. All was well for eons until an agent of Eversor somehow found his way into the world. It had the power to kill faeries, and so Angelica sought to consult with a source of power to figure out how to expel this threat from the world. She was given instructions and foresight, as well as the ability to use her power to diminish this agent. She did so, at great cost. She lost most of her own power, but it gave her the time she needed for her new creation to mature."

"Humans?" Nerris guessed.

Len-Ahl nodded. "Her final act before she lost all. Beings who this agent could not directly harm, whose connection to nature and faeries would be lost over time. With her foresight, she saw a group of these humans rising up and fighting this dark power, though she knew not when this battle would occur. So she waited, while her foresight enabled her to construct a prophecy which would aid these representatives. Humans are imperfect beings, and the agents of Eversor have had their own hand in corrupting them over the years. They could not be trusted with the direct gift of power. The Faery Footpath was formed as a way to help these Stonechasers acquire the power to fight while overcoming their base nature. It is the journey itself which gives power, for those with the desire to see it to the end. Such might could not be used correctly if merely gifted with a godstone."

"And why does that make you sad?" Nerris asked.

"As the Stonechaser, I have a bit of foresight myself," Len-Ahl said. "I dream of what is to come and see darkness and suffering. Nothing concrete, but mere images and feelings. I have come to care deeply for you all, and dread the shame that I will lead you down such a path. Others who join us along the way will share our doom as well. But it must be done. It must be done." She fought back a sob. "I see many possible outcomes, Nerris. In one of them, you come to hate me for what I have led you through, and to dwell on it is more than I can bear. But the alternative..."

Tears streamed down her face and she turned away from them, retreating to her tent. Nerris's heart went out to Len-Ahl. Her destiny carried more weight than he knew. How long had she known? He could not imagine being a child and having such a burden placed on him. Dist made to go after her, but Nerris grabbed his arm.

"Give her some time," he said.

Len-Ahl did not emerge from her tent, and the rest of them soon turned in for the night. Nerris slept fitfully, concerned about Len-Ahl and her dreams. He could not imagine ever hating her, yet she had foreseen it. He wondered about the alternative she mentioned also, something she could not even speak of.

They broke camp in the morning and rode east. Xenea Dolchin or not, Jhareth suggested the first thing they do was get out of enemy territory. They were deep in the Cult's home territory. Since Nerris had promised King Maerlos he would speak about the Yagol threat at the Council of Allies, they set out for Syrutim, planning to stop at Alicanos on the way to consult with King Owen.

"Is that wise?" Jhareth asked. "All the rulers of the Kolmian Alliance will be in Syrutim, and Maerlos will probably bring Congir. You know his true nature, and he will want your head."

"I can't sit by," Nerris said. "If nothing else, we can warn the other monarchs about the treachery of the Cult and prevent it from spreading further. If the Yagols are a concern of the Alliance, so is the Cult. While we're there, we'll see if we can figure out where the next beacon of the Faery Footpath is located."

Len-Ahl had barely said a word all morning, and only nodded when they submitted their plan for her input. She rode with her head down as they made their way down a road running alongside a ridge, following their trail like a ghost. Len-Ahl's melancholy was contagious, and they all traveled in silence. Even Dist and Jhareth weren't nattering at each other for a change. The only sounds were the birds chirping in the trees and the gentle rush of the river flowing to their right. The weather seemed to share their gloom, as it was overcast with the threat of more rain.

The attack came swiftly. Arrows thumped into the road, planting themselves in the ground in front of Nerris's horse. He pulled back on the reins and the animal protested with a shrill scream. Before he could shout a warning, a score of men in black robes bounded over the ridge, dropping to the muddy road. One leapt off a boulder close to Nerris, serrated blade extended, but Nerris drew his sword, and he cut the man right out of the air in one motion. A few others came close and Nerris rode into them, cleaving through black fabric and flesh.

Dist had drawn the Big Black as well and was feathering cultists as fast as he could. Another score or so appeared on the road in front of them, blades at the ready and marching forward at a steady pace. With so many, Nerris called a retreat and directed his friends to ride back the way they came. He wheeled his horse around and caught a glimpse of Len-Ahl's eyes as she did the same. He saw fear in them, but also a lack of surprise. Had she dreamed this too?

They rode away, intending to outrun the cultist footmen. However, a score of horsemen thundered around the bend to cut them off. These men were not cultists, but wore hauberks and carried sabers. They stayed in formation, a telltale sign of soldiers. Two men in ornate plate armor and fearsome helms led them. Nerris glanced around. The ridge and river prevented escape on either side. They were trapped.

The cultists moved in behind them, threatening them but not attacking. They closed ranks as the horsemen approached from the other direction. One of the leaders, the larger one, rode ahead and approached them, holding up a hand to halt any premature attack. Nerris couldn't see his face through the steel, but the stench identified him. The man removed his helm to reveal a head of plaited hair and a sour face. Nerris silently damned their luck.

They had been caught by Falares.

# PART THREE: ROAD OF HARDSHIP

View High Quality Map Online

# Chapter Twenty-Seven

NERRIS PALADA," FALARES said, his bearded face sneering. "I see you've come crawling back to us. And you even brought some friends along. My Eternal will be pleased."

"I'm just passing through," Nerris said. "I no longer have any business with Qabala or her war." The other man also bore the plate armor of a Dume-General. He removed his helm, and Nerris caught a glimpse of long, silver hair. "Lukas Kord," he said. "I find it strange to meet you two all the way up here. No one ever accused Falares of intelligence, but I thought he would at least be able to tell north from south."

That wiped the sneer of the big man's face. "Enough with the jibes. My Eternal requests your presence at Palehorse. You all will be coming with us."

"Wait a minute," Jhareth said. "What does Queen Qabala want with Nerris?"

Nerris grimaced. "It's a long story. These two gentlemen are old comrades. And I use both those terms loosely. The older man is Lukas Kord, former second-in-command of the Palehorse City Watch. The other is Falares. We called him the Lady's Ape."

Falares frowned and dismounted, but Lukas held out an arm to keep him from advancing. "The proper form of address is 'Your Constancy,' Nerris, you know that. After all, you were almost one of us."

"What?" Dist asked. He and Jhareth looked sharply at him.

"They don't know." Falares laughed. "So much for the legendary camaraderie of the Thrillseekers. Had he not run out on us, you may have been looking at Nerris Palada, Dume-General, member of the Aeternal Council and consort of Queen Qabala Aeterna. I'm not sure what he is now, besides trapped like the vermin he is."

"Is that true?" Jhareth asked Nerris.

He nodded. "As far as it goes. I never had any intention of becoming a Dume-General, but Qabala was keen enough on the idea."

"She was more than keen on a few things," Falares said. "Have you told them of how you used to warm my Eternal's bed nightly like some grasping camp whore?"

Nerris's eyes grew hard. "Falares, you have a big mouth. I'm like to shut it if you'll call off your dogs."

Falares placed a hand on his hilt. "Anytime you're ready, you foreign goat."

Lukas spurred his mount forward and came between them. "There can be no violence, your Constancy," he said. "Our orders are to take Nerris and his friends to Palehorse, alive and unharmed." He gestured to Nerris's companions. "On the ground, all of you. The Thrillseekers are notorious for escaping tight predicaments and I'll not have you ahorse."

Nerris surveyed the situation and glanced at Jhareth, knowing he was doing the same. His friend's look clearly said they would not be able to fight their way out of this. Sighing, Nerris dismounted to the muddy ground. Jhareth, Dist, and Len-Ahl did the same, and several of Falares's men moved in to take their weapons and mounts.

"I don't understand," Dist said. "Nerris, you never told us you were so close to the new Queen of Yagolhan."

Lukas smiled. "It is with thanks to Master Palada here that we were able to quickly turn the war in our favor," he said. "Not seven months ago, he crept into the Aeternica and bereft old King Lahnen of his life as he prepared for bed. He is truly a national hero to all true Yagols."

"Nerris!" Jhareth sounded shocked, and Len-Ahl's mouth fell open as well.

"That was one of our rules," Dist said. "We don't kill in cold blood."

Nerris hung his head. How could he make them understand the turmoil he had gone through since Miagama? Now that it was laid out before him, it all seemed useless. He thought back on King Lahnen in his present state and felt nothing but shame, not only for the act itself but what it had led to for Qabala.

"Dist, Jhareth," he said. "I—"

"This information might have been useful before we trekked all the way out here!" Dist shouted, his temper flaring.

"Quiet, Thrillseeker." Falares cuffed Dist in the back of the head.

Dist grunted and stumbled forward, but sprang back at Falares almost immediately. Two sabres grabbed his arms to stop him. "Try that again, you reeking bastard," he said.

Falares ignored him. "Evening approaches, your Constancy," he said to Lukas. "We should have them secured by then."

"Yes," Lukas said. He barked some orders and their soldiers marched them forward at sword point.

"What have we here?" Falares asked, leering as Len-Ahl walked past him. She cried out as the Dume-General grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in close. His free hand slithered up her body, groping at her chest. Len-Ahl trembled as he leaned close, breathing onto her neck. Nerris rushed forward, but again the sabres blocked him from getting to Falares.

"Dume Falares," Lukas said. "I repeat, our orders are to bring them in alive and unharmed."

"I wasn't planning on harming her," Falares said.

"I've seen your women after you've been with them," Lukas said. "I know better."

Falares shrugged and shoved Len-Ahl forward. "As you say, your Constancy."

Sabres tied their hands behind their backs with stout rope, and they were marched in a single line to the east. As they had after the Battle of Gelnicka, the cultists melted away into the forest as if they were phantoms, leaving the sabres and Dume-Generals to guard them. They walked for an hour, climbing down hills and crossing game trails until they arrived at the main road.

Two wains had been prepared for them, resting on a dirt road next to a pond. Four strong drays had been hitched to each one, and the sides of the wagons were open to the elements, but for the thick, iron bars. It reminded Nerris of a circus he had seen in Locraw once, and the mobile cages which had housed the animals.

"We were sent up here to recruit some fresh blood for the Aeterna's army," Lukas explained. "However, some were less malleable than others and had to be persuaded to join up. So we have been using these prison wains to bring them in."

Dume Lukas directed the sabres to search their packhorse to cannibalize any useful supplies and leave behind the rest. The soldiers requisitioned their cooking utensils, as well as their tents. The rest lay forgotten on the ground. Others wrapped Nerris's katana, Jhareth's knives, Dist's short sword, the Big Black, and even Len-Ahl's flute in a brown tarp.

"Is this real gold?" Lukas asked when presented with Jinn's medallion. As he turned the disc over and examined it, Nerris felt a moment of panic until he realized the dim watchman had no way of knowing its purpose. Sure enough, Lukas shrugged and stuck the medallion into his own horse's saddlebag. "A gift for the Aeterna," he said.

"What in the world is this?" Falares asked, opening Dist's bag of ignition powder.

"Set a torch to it and find out," Dist said.

Falares rifled through the powder with his fingers and gave Dist a contemptuous glare. He strung the bag up and heaved it into the pond. Dist nearly gagged with rage as his stash of powder sank below the dull gray water.

"Do you have any idea how long it took me to make that much!?" he yelled.

Falares smirked and barked out another order. Nerris and Len-Ahl were forced into one of the dirty wains, where their hands were shackled to either side of the narrow cage. Their bonds allowed them room to sit with their backs against the wood, wallowing in the filthy straw covering the floor. Falares supervised the men at the other wain, who forced Jhareth to enter with a saber at his back.

As Dist made to climb in after him, Falares stuck his foot out. Dist tripped and fell face first into the mud. Falares and several of the men shared a laugh, but even with his hands tied Dist regained his feet in an instant. He rammed his shoulder into Falares's midsection. He caught the armored man off guard, shoving him into the side of the wain. All Dist could do was keep pressing him, as if he could put Falares through the iron bars with sheer force of will.

Falares's men shouted in surprise, and one of the sabres brought the hilt of his blade down on Dist's head. Dist slumped to his knees with a grunt, letting up on the Dume-General. Falares responded by slamming a steel clad knee into Dist's nose. Blood spurted, and Dist fell to his back with a semi-conscious groan.

Falares spat. "Thrillseeker, huh? You're not so tough."

Len-Ahl began to cry, and Nerris leaned forward. "Dist, stay down and do what he says!"

Jhareth raged against his restraints. "Come on, you fucking whoreson, untie him and see how this fight turns out!"

"Enough!" Lukas's shout, perfected from years of commanding watch units, quieted them all. "Dume Falares, this is not conduct becoming of a Dume-General. As for the rest of you, you are going to Palehorse whether you like it or not. It is useless to resist."

Falares caught the eye of two sabres and jerked his head. The soldiers picked Dist up and placed him inside the wain, securing him opposite from Jhareth. They left and bolted the door behind them. A moment later, the crack of a whip sounded and the drays moved forward, pulling the wains in a southerly direction down the muddy road.

The following days blurred together with the steady movement of the wain's wheels and the repetitive scenery. The sabres would not unshackle them, even to let them sleep. Once a day, their guards opened the doors to give them a bowl filled with some kind of runny porridge and a skin of water. Their chains were long enough that they had free use of their hands, but it made eating awkward all the same. Afterward, they would bring in a wide bucket for them to use as a chamber pot. Though Nerris averted his eyes whenever Len-Ahl would take care of her business, their guards laughed and hooted whenever she would hike up her skirts. Nerris could do nothing except clench his fists.

After some time on the road Len-Ahl scarcely moved at all, and it was a relief whenever their door opened and she raised her hands to receive her daily sludge. Whenever Nerris attempted to speak with her, a guard would rattle his spear against their bars and tell him to shut his mouth. Another sabre periodically entered to clean Nerris's shoulder wound and replace the bandage.

Days and weeks passed as they left behind the forests and mountains, heading south through the Yellow Plains. The terrain grew even more monotonous as their wains creaked down the main highway amongst endless fields of golden grass. Though thunder often rumbled in the distance, it seldom rained, and the temperature picked up the farther south they headed. The once formidable trading town of Ryvetsk went by in an instant, still a burnt out shell after Qabala's sacking all those months ago. With nothing to do except watch the world pass by, Nerris took to sleeping frequently in spite of the lack of comfort. He had lost his perception of time, and they could have been traveling down that road for five years, for all he knew.

A rattling against the bars awakened Nerris one morning, courtesy of a spearhead. Nerris opened his eyes and looked south to see the silhouette of Palehorse in the distance, a pall of smoke hanging high above from its many chimneys. Lukas Kord rode up beside his wain.

"End of the journey," he said cheerfully. "I do apologize for the lack of comforts, but my Eternal wanted you and your friends in the worst way, and I would not chance displeasing her by giving you chance to plot an escape."

The city seemed emptier than Nerris remembered it. Townsfolk peered out through shuttered windows, and those who walked the streets on their way to work or the marketplace stepped along hastily. He wondered what they were afraid of, until their wain passed a precession of black-robed cultists. It seemed every other square they passed featured those foul men gesticulating on the cobblestones in prayer. The grand city, once the seat of power to a vast empire, was rife with the Cult of Eversor.

None stood in their path as they rolled through the streets, and they soon came to the west end of the city, where they were admitted into the Aeternica. Once inside, their guards released them from their shackles and forced into the bailey, at the very spot Qabala had ordered him thrown into the dungeon. Weeks of idleness had rendered Nerris's legs nearly useless, and he stumbled as he hit ground for the first time. He saw his friends having similar problems, but they were propped up by the sabres and forced through the doors of the main keep.

Qabala sat alone in the great hall, upon the ornate throne the Y'Ghan family had graced for many centuries. She wore the silky maroon robes of an Aeterna, trimmed with gold. A tiara embedded with diamonds and rubies adorned her head. Her hair had grown out a bit since Nerris had last seen her, but otherwise she was as beautiful and terrible as he remembered. He felt her jade eyes watching him as he was presented to her, with Len-Ahl at his side.

Dist and Jhareth joined them as well. Dist's nose had healed, but the gash in his leg looked to be worsening. His and Jhareth's clothes were filthy and ragged, and both seemed thinner. Nerris wondered if he looked as haggard as they did.

"My Eternal," Falares called out. He and Lukas saluted. "I bring you the Thrillseekers and their companion, by your command."

Qabala stood and descended the steps to stand before them. Her nose wrinkled and she grimaced as she beheld their unwashed and emaciated state. "I must apologize," she said. "I told my Dume-Generals to bring you here by any means necessary, but it appears they went too far concerning your treatment."

"Such self-reproach is uncharacteristic, Qabala," Nerris said. "What do you want?"

Qabala's eyes met his. "I think you know, Nerris. I want you by my side once more."

Nerris shook his head. "Our time is past. You saw to that when you murdered Chalis here in this room and had me imprisoned."

Qabala ignored him and turned to Dist and Jhareth. "You must be the other Thrillseekers. I am sorry our first meeting is under these circumstances, but I have heard the stories like everyone else. I could not pass up the chance to meet all of you at once. I regret that my subordinates' treatment of you was so beastly."

Jhareth's mouth twitched. "I must confess we've had better accommodations," he said. "The view was wonderful, but the service was absolutely horrid."

Qabala chuckled. "I like this one. He's a bit cheeky." She gave him a glance from head to toe. "If I remember the descriptions correctly, you are Jhareth Kanave. Tell me, Jhareth, what brings you to my kingdom?"

"Oh, just a little adventure," Jhareth said. "I discovered a lead on a treasure that would yield us a quick profit."

"And did you find this treasure?"

"No," Jhareth lied. "It turned into a dead end. I'll be sure to thoroughly chastise my contact when I return to Faerlin."

"Huh." Qabala walked back to Nerris's right and looked upon Len-Ahl. "And you, no doubt, are the Stonechaser I've heard so much about." Len-Ahl's head jerked up in surprise and Qabala laughed. "Yes, I know all about you and your prophecy. I have a Nateus of the earth clerics in my custody who has been more than forthcoming about your mission. After a few sessions on the rack, that is. Tell me, have you found the first 'beacon to light the path' yet?"

Len-Ahl averted her gaze. "I do not... no, please..."

"My Eternal," Lukas said.

"What is it, your Constancy?"

"All of the Thrillseekers' possessions were of little value." The Dume-General reached into his satchel and pulled out Jinn's medallion. "Except this. I had meant to present it to you as a gift, but perhaps this is the beacon of which you speak."

Qabala took the medallion and examined the runes. Her smile grew bigger. "This is it," she said, laughing. "Oh, Nerris, you have no idea how much simpler this makes things. I was worried you might not wish to help me with my journey to the Exemplus, but now I see you are already amidst the Xenea Dolchin."

"What do you want with the Exemplus?" Nerris asked. "Isn't the Doom Rock enough for you?"

"To hold both is to hold absolute power," Qabala said. "Imagine everything wrong with this world obliterated in an instant. Greed, envy, pain, gone. Today is a grand day, Nerris." She turned back to Len-Ahl. "Tell me, where do I seek the second beacon?" When she didn't answer, Qabala's hand shot up and twisted her ear. "Tell me!"

Len-Ahl cried out in pain. "I do not know!"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe you can't read these runes?" she asked. "Perhaps you'll be more forthcoming after you've guested in my dungeon." She released Len-Ahl and gestured toward her. "Take her down to the dark cells, and put Masters Kanave and Schies in the surface block."

The guards moved in and led Len-Ahl, Dist and Jhareth away. Lukas cast a sidelong glance at Nerris. "What should we do with Nerris, my Eternal?"

"Confine him to my chambers," she said. "Draw him a bath and give him a razor so he can make himself presentable. I will join him shortly."

Her men led Nerris out of the great hall. When they were in the corridors, he caught one last glimpse of Len-Ahl before they were herded in opposite directions. The look of despair on her face wrenched his heart, but a guard pushed him around a corner and she disappeared from sight. Nerris vowed she, Dist, and Jhareth would not remain prisoners for long. If Qabala wanted to play nice with him, he would play whatever part was necessary. As long as it got them away from this cesspit.

# Chapter Twenty-Eight

SEVERAL GUARDS ESCORTED Nerris to Qabala's chambers in the royal keep. They deposited him in King Lahnen's old bedchamber, the very room where Nerris had taken his life. Qabala had replaced the furniture once again, he noted. A new dressing table with a large, round mirror stood against the far wall, close to the bath chamber. A four-poster bed with a purple canopy stood nearby, and a matching divan had been set against the far wall.

Nerris looked himself over in the mirror. Weeks of single meals of gruel had stripped some of the flesh from his face and body. Unkempt was perhaps the nicest way to describe his hair. A full beard had sprouted on his face, and there were bags under his eyes. Everything ached, and he spent some time pacing around the room and stretching his muscles to work out the soreness.

A few minutes later, the door opened and a small, blonde girl entered, carrying a pail of steaming water.

"Meeka?" Nerris asked.

The slave's eyes met his, and she nearly dropped her pail in surprise. Setting it down on the floor, she rushed to Nerris and embraced him. "Nerris! What are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you," Nerris said. "I'm currently enjoying Yagol hospitality, as you can see by my current state."

Meeka released him and looked him over. "My Eternal said I was to draw a bath for her guest, but I had no idea... Nerris, what have they done to you?"

"I'm all right," Nerris assured her. "How are you doing? Is Qabala treating you well?"

Meeka bowed her head. "My Eternal does me great honor allowing me to attend her. I try to please, but she has her spells of fury."

"I remember," Nerris said. "Last time I was here, she threw me in the dungeon."

Meeka shook her head. "How silly of me. I have work to do. Please excuse me, Nerris."

Nerris let Meeka continue to fill the tub within the bath chamber as he picked up the razor on the dressing table. He shaved the hair on his neck and cheeks, and used the scissors to trim his beard. When Meeka left, he stripped off his dirty clothes and climbed into the tub, basking in his first good soak in weeks. He made sure to take his time, scrubbing his skin until it turned raw and soaping his hair to wash the grime out. By the time he climbed out of the tub, the clear bathwater had turned a murky brown.

He opened the door to the bedchamber to find Meeka had left a new set of clothes for him and taken his old things away. He put on the white silk shirt and dark knee breeches and returned to the dressing table, where he combed the tangles out of his thick, brown hair.

Perhaps an hour later the door opened, and Qabala entered. Nerris stood from the divan to greet her, and she smiled at him. "Nerris. I see you're going to be civilized about this."

"What choice do I have?" he asked. "I am in your power, my Eternal." He gave her an ostentatious bow.

Qabala giggled. "You look much better now, like I remember you." She took off her tiara and set it on the dressing table. "I have missed you so, my love. You have no idea how much."

Nerris approached her. "I have to say I'm surprised, given that the last time I was in the Aeternica I was being dragged off by your soldiers."

Qabala sighed. "I regretted that decision as soon as I made it. I was caught up in the moment, Nerris. I had been consecrated Aeterna, that boy had tried to kill me, and we publicly quarreled. I am so sorry."

She threw her arms around Nerris and buried her head in his chest, but he disentangled himself from her. "Is that why you sent your dogs after me and my friends? You wanted to apologize?"

"I want what I've always wanted," she said. "You at my side, ruling Yagolhan beside me, helping me find the Exemplus. How deliciously ironic is it that the first treasure of the Xenea Dolchin was in my own kingdom, right under my nose? It is fate which brought you and the Thrillseekers here."

"I've been hearing a lot about fate and destiny recently," Nerris said. "If you wanted our help, why didn't you ask for it instead of dragging us here like animals?"

"I was afraid you hated me for what I did." Qabala's voice grew small, and reminded Nerris of the vulnerability lurking underneath her hard façade. "I wanted the chance to make amends. I didn't mean for Falares and Lukas to take it as far as they did."

"Qabala, I never hated you," Nerris said. "I hated what you were doing to yourself, to your kingdom, what you planned to do to the world. I warned you about the Cult of Eversor months ago, and yet when I came through the city, I see them more prevalent than ever. Why can't you see the ruin this is leading to?"

"When I have the Exemplus, Eversor will be bent to my will," she said. "The Deinovi fled this world at the prospect of one godstone. With two, I can end all suffering."

"That is not something one person can do, no matter how much power they think they have." Nerris shook his head. "Qabala, I'm tired, my entire body aches, and my friends are rotting in your dungeon. Tell me what you would have of me and be done with it."

"I want the Thrillseekers to help me find the Exemplus," she said. "You have already stepped foot onto the Xenea Dolchin and I wish for you, Jhareth, and Dist to lead me to the Elemental Stone."

"And what about Len-Ahl?"

"The girl?" Qabala's mouth curled. "Is it true, then? Are you keeping company with that scrawny nymph?"

"What?" Nerris asked. "No, it is not like that between us. She is my friend, like Dist and Jhareth. I swear, Qabala, if you harm her or let that animal Falares touch her—"

"She will be safe enough," Qabala said. "Dist and Jhareth will be released, as long as they promise to help me. But the girl is dangerous. She will stay where she is until I have the Exemplus."

"How do you even know about that?"

"As I said, I hold prisoner a Nateus of the earth clerics," she said. "The Nateii have been waiting for the Stonechaser for eons, and have studied the original Stonechaser Prophecy. Unfortunately for them, their order is all but gone and they cannot lend the Stonechaser any of their power. For years, I thought I was to be the Stonechaser. When Dume Yorne told me you were the Catalyst, that seemed to confirm it. Then this girl comes along. I will not give up my destiny, Nerris, prophecy or no."

"Then I refuse," Nerris said. "Len-Ahl has a destiny as well, and she must fulfill it so we can rid the world of abominations like Eversor."

"Eversor is a means to an end," Qabala said. "He will help me do what the Deinovi, the Ancient Gods, and even Queen Angelica could never do."

"Why is it you feel the world needs saving?" Nerris asked. "The things you seek to rid us of are some of the very things which make us human. Suppose you do fulfill your alleged destiny. What will we be in your new world?"

"Better." Qabala moved closer to him. "If you could only see that, Nerris."

"All I see is someone I once cared for taken in by some cosmic con artist. You get nothing from me until you make your intentions clear concerning Len-Ahl."

"Nerris, you once loved me," Qabala said, putting her hand on his arm. "Why do you choose this girl over us?"

He broke her grip and caught her by the wrists. "Whatever I felt for you died last autumn," he said.

"That's not true and you know it." Qabala rushed forward and threw her arms around Nerris. Her charge caught him off balance, and they fell onto the wide bed. Before he could protest, her lips met his and Nerris felt her sweet kiss for the first time in seven months. He could feel himself stiffening, and Qabala straddled his body, opening her robe to reveal her breasts. Her hand went to Nerris's breeches, feeling within.

"No, Qabala," Nerris said. "This cannot happen. Not anymore."

"Are you going to tell me you love that mousy slattern in the dungeon?" Qabala asked. "Of course you couldn't. We are both warriors, Nerris, not mice. Who do you belong with, if not me?"

Nerris could not answer that. Before Qabala, he had not made love with a woman since Ketsuya. Yet he could not bring himself to pursue Len-Ahl, even though he cared for her deeply. The only woman who had aroused his passions this way in the past three years had been Qabala.

She kissed him again, and Nerris kissed her back this time, in spite of himself. He could feel those passions welling up again, and he seemed to be powerless to stop them. He slipped his hands inside her underclothes, and Qabala moaned with pleasure.

"That's it," she gasped. "Let go of all your worries, Nerris. It is just the two of us right here, right now. And that's all it will ever be. That simple."

The night which followed was the most pleasurable Nerris had ever experienced. They never strayed far from the bed, except when it grew dark and Qabala lit scented candles. They made love in a half-dozen different ways, and dozed in each other's arms in between. It was not until Nerris awakened the next morning that the guilt set in.

As he watched the rays of sunlight creep in through the narrow windows, he wondered at what point he had lost control. He meant to gauge her intentions concerning his friends, but he found himself enjoying the comforts of quilts and a down-filled mattress, while they slept on straw pallets in the dungeon. He enjoyed the comforts of a beautiful queen, while they slept alone.

Thinking of Len-Ahl made him feel even worse. He knew she had feelings for him, and he had attempted to protect her by putting a wall between them. If she knew of this, it would devastate her.

Meeka brought them breakfast on a silver tray as he and Qabala cuddled under the coverlets. They nibbled on eggs and bread as the handmaiden poured water into a goblet for Nerris. Nerris smiled and thanked her, and Qabala did the same, much to his surprise.

"Wine," Qabala commanded when Meeka went to fill her own goblet. The slave girl bowed her head and poured a red wine into the goblet from a pitcher.

"Isn't it a little early for wine?" Nerris asked.

"We must celebrate," Qabala said, dismissing Meeka with a wave. The girl bowed and left, shutting the door behind her. "Everything is looking better now that you're here, Nerris."

"What has been happening?" Nerris asked. "I've been away so long. Have you defeated Prince Lahnel yet?"

"You have a beautiful woman in bed with you and you want to discuss politics?"

Nerris shrugged. "We've been on the road for a while. I'd like to know what's going on in the world."

"Well, Lahnel is still hiding in the mountains," Qabala said. "He knows them well and has managed to rebuff most of our forces, so the war is now at a standstill until we can find some kind of foothold. I've been sending the cultists to the front line to lead the charge of every battle, but he's been killing them by the thousands."

"I think I _will_ drink to that," Nerris said, reaching for her goblet.

"No!" Qabala swatted the goblet out of his hand and it flew across the room, spraying wine in every direction. "You must never do that!"

"What has gotten into you?" Nerris asked, shocked at her outburst.

She met his gaze. "Nerris, listen. You must never drink after me or touch any liquid I touch. Is that understood?"

"Why?"

"Shortly after you left, I feasted my men in the great hall and left my wine unfinished," she said. "It was a rare vintage, and a servant on cleanup duty decided to have a taste after the feast was over. Moments later he collapsed to the floor, stone dead."

"A poisoner?" Nerris asked.

"That is what we thought at first," Qabala said. "Until I saw the spot where they had been disposing of my old bathwater. It was a grassy area, always lush and healthy, but the spot where they dumped my bathwater was brown and dead." She placed a hand on her midsection. "It's the Doom Rock. It turns any liquid I touch into a fatal poison."

Nerris's hand went to his own lips, but Qabala laughed.

"Relax, Nerris. There is not enough saliva in our bodies to make our kisses fatal."

"Are you sure about that?"

"I considered that possibility." Qabala smiled. "I bestowed a few kisses upon the lips of a few subjects in preparing for your arrival. Slaves that no one would miss. All of them are hale and hearty as ever."

"How can you stand having that thing in you?" Nerris asked. "Is the power really worth it?"

"All power comes with a price," Qabala said. "Those such as me are willing to pay it. That is how you tell the strong from the weak."

Nerris shook his head and ate. She held the narrow view of the young. He had experienced too much to not realize when dealing with concepts like strong and weak, nothing was absolute. He never quite understood those who ever yearned for greater power. From what he could see, it was a trap which promised happiness and delivered destruction. Did that make him weak?

Qabala nuzzled against his neck. "There are other perks the Doom Rock has gifted to me. Acute senses, better reflexes, greater strength." She flashed him an impish smile. "As well as heightened lovemaking."

"I cannot argue the last," Nerris said, and he meant it. No other night he ever spent with a woman had been so wild, so euphoric. Not even Ketsuya. However, euphoria did not necessarily equate to love.

The comment pleased Qabala. She climbed on top of him once again, knocking the breakfast tray to the floor. She kissed Nerris long and deep, and leaned close to his ear. "I can still do better."

"We can't lie here all day," Nerris said.

"Why not?" Qabala said. "I'm the Aeterna, but my country can run itself for a day. One day, is that too much to ask? Just one day for you and me."

She said it frivolously, without a care for her title or ideals. She was not Queen Qabala Aeterna, but Qabala of Verchak, a simple village girl with a simple goal. At that moment, he was able to define the duality of his feelings for her. This was the real Qabala: strong-willed, passionate, caring, and more than a bit stubborn. What she had been built up to as the Aeterna was a mere shell. If he could find some way to break her out of that shell, maybe he could bring himself to return her love in true.

# Chapter Twenty-Nine

QABALA WASTED NO time integrating Nerris back into life in the Aeternica. She announced a banquet to celebrate his return, with strong hints that she planned to announce their engagement at the festivities. She was busy, both with preparations and the day-to-day routine of a ruler, and barely saw her during daylight hours. He was escorted to her chambers every evening, where she would jump into his arms as soon as she could get out of her clothes.

He had his freedom of the red-brick palace as long as he agreed not to leave the grounds. Even so, he sometimes caught Falares, Lukas, or one of their lieutenants dogging his steps. Though she could be reasonably sure Nerris was not going to leave without his friends, Qabala wasn't taking any chances. Nerris did manage to convince her Dist's leg was in need of attention, and she sent Meeka to the dungeons to tend to him.

"Bed slave is but one of Meeka's talents," she told him. "She was trained in the healing arts by a graduate of Gauntlet, and often tended the wounds and ailments of those in Lord Kelke's household. She is a fine prize for a slave."

Nerris thanked her for that, and Meeka as well, biting his tongue on the matter of slavery for once. Nerris's own wound had almost disappeared, but for a forming scar across his shoulder. The pain had all but faded, and the sustenance of real food allowed him to lose some of the gauntness he had acquired during his hellish ride to Palehorse. All in all, he was beginning to feel normal again.

As soon as his energy returned, he found himself in the yard of the Aeternica practicing his swordsmanship against a gaggle of young recruits eager to trade strokes with a Thrillseeker. It had been a while since he utilized a longsword, but quickly grew accustomed to the extra weight he did not have to suffer whilst wielding Noruken.

"You may have your katana back when our engagement is official," Qabala told him in bed one night. "Keep up this good behavior and I may even release your friends, with a full apology of course."

"Even Len-Ahl?" he asked.

She slapped him on the chest. "Do not mention that girl. Not here. She has information I need."

"And when you get it you will release her?"

"Yes, yes. If that will make you happy, my love."

After that exchange, he spent a good portion of the night proving he did not harbor any romantic feelings for Len-Ahl. Qabala had an insecurity where the half-faery was concerned, and their lovemaking temporarily alleviated those fears. Nerris spent a considerable amount of time whispering clichés from love poems in her ear as he thrust in and out of her, often wondering if he truly meant it or not.

It had seemed simple when she had them dragged into her great hall in chains. Escape was still foremost on his mind, but Qabala had a way of making him forget she was his foe. After spending some time with her, Nerris felt his passion rekindled, along with his desire to help her. He could not let his friends suffer while he enjoyed the luxuries of royalty, but neither could he get the slender warrior queen and her pure but corrupted aspirations out of his head.

So he practiced at battle with raw boys, no older than he had been when he fought in the Liberation of Agos. The fighting seemed the only thing in his life free of complication. An opponent stood across from him, with two blades the only barrier between victory and defeat, life and death.

One youth came at him with a roar, his blunted practice sword swinging down from overhead. Nerris parried the blow and hooked the boy's leg with his foot, sending him sprawling. He held the point of his own blade to the youth's throat.

"You overextended in your footing," he said. "Remember that a sword is but one tool a warrior fights with. A shield can be used to batter you senseless as readily, and an arc too high is an open invitation to a kick in the gut. And then there's this." Nerris pointed to his own head. The boys followed his every move in rapt attention. "Your most powerful weapon of all. Develop your mind and you will have the advantage over many a man. Let it go to waste and it's no more useful than a sword gone to rust."

Nerris helped his opponent to his feet, and the boy smiled. "Thank you, your Constancy."

Nerris frowned. "I am no Dume-General."

"I hear you will be," the boy said, and several of the others confirmed it. "It's all over the Aeternica. They say the Aeterna will announce your engagement at the banquet and dub you a Dume-General."

"Speculation and conjecture," Nerris said. "Are we here to learn swordsmanship or gossip like scullery maids?"

The denial of being anything resembling women reminded him of similar admonishments he had endured at Gauntlet, except now the roles were reversed. He heard more than a few of Rhodias's own words mixing in with his. He could practically hear his old trainer's bellows every time one of the recruits lost his stance or leaned out too far while swinging his blade.

Shouts from the main gate startled him out of his memories, and he heard the echoing creak of the rising portcullis. A score of mounted men were admitted to the yard and came to a halt before him. Men-at-arms led a line of bedraggled prisoners in the direction of the dungeons. The lead horsemen wore the armor of Dume-Generals. All around him, the youths saluted. Green though they might be, respect for the chain of command had already been ingrained in their heads. Nerris didn't salute, but examined the high officers. Since Falares and Lukas had not left the Aeternica, he had no idea who two of them were. The third, however...

The Dume in the lead dismounted and removed his helm. He had shaved his beard at some point in the intervening months, but Nerris knew those twinkling eyes and that head of gray hair.

"Rade," he said, clasping hands with his old comrade's gauntlet. The old man's smile was infectious.

"Nerris," Rade said. "I received word you had come back to us and I scarcely believed it, given our last conversation."

"Circumstances beyond my control," Nerris said. "It's good to see you again."

"Aye, you as well," Rade said. "I have to admit, I almost didn't recognize my own alias. Everyone calls me Dume Yorne now."

"Yorne Radenos Regnak," Nerris said, remembering what Professor Borrel had said about the Black Prophecies belonging to a place called Regnak Manor. "And what other fine gentlemen has Qabala raised to the Aeternal Council?"

The Dume on the right removed his helm, and Nerris recognized him also. Colonel Quin stared down at him with tired eyes. "Hello, Commander."

Nerris clasped hands with his former subordinate. "I no longer command anyone, but it's nice to see wisdom at work. The Aeterna couldn't have picked a better man for the job." And he meant it. Quin was a good man and a promising commander. It surprised Nerris that he actually approved of one of Qabala's decisions.

The third Dume-General dismounted and removed his helm. This man's face was marked by dark hair and a patch over his left eye. Nerris hadn't thought to be acquainted with all three Dume-Generals, but this one was a shock. Not a pleasant one, either.

"Nerris Palada." Valez Vaed's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Such a pleasure to see you once again."

Nerris's free hand went to his hilt, until he remembered he held a practice sword. Valez watched his movements with amusement. "What is he doing here?" he asked Rade between clenched teeth.

"You already know each other?" Quin asked.

"You'll have to pardon my fellows," Valez said. "They went through great lengths to get me here, and I did not have time to fill them in on our history. Even if I had expected to see you." He turned to Quin. "Nerris and I were schooled together as cadets of Gauntlet."

"Truly?" Rade asked Nerris.

"You no longer have that distinction," Nerris said to Valez. "Your name was wiped from the records when you betrayed us to King Ullas's army." A familiar hate burned within him at the sight of the traitor. Valez and his friends had formed a company much like the Thrillseekers after the Liberation, and they had their share of encounters over the years, neither group ever quite able to put an end to the other. Until Miagama and the Akuma War, when Valez had lost Tarias Dinge and Maria Whitewater, the only two people he had ever cared for.

"Betrayal?" Quin said.

"Old history, your Constancy," Valez said. "Nerris and I were born to hate each other. Masters with a blade, conflicting ideals, you know how it is."

"Trust me, I don't hate you near as much as King Owen does," Nerris said.

Valez smiled. "Then I look forward to the day when our paths cross again."

"I wouldn't," Nerris said. "He'll kill you on sight. I'm struggling hard not to do the same right now."

The riders behind the Dume-Generals cast nervous glances at each other, and Nerris could hear excited murmurs from the boys behind him. Valez merely scowled at the perceived challenge, reminding Nerris much of days gone by at Gauntlet when the dark-haired Yagol didn't get his way.

Valez snorted. "That would be a neat trick with a blunted blade. Whatever happened to that katana you carried in Miagama? Did you bury it with Ketsuya?"

Nerris lunged at him, but Rade got in between them. "No, Nerris."

"When I get my sword back I'll bury it in that inflated skull of yours," Nerris said. "Don't you ever mention Ketsuya's name."

Rade turned to his fellow Dumes. "Your Constancies, we have had a long ride. I suggest you go to your quarters and refresh yourselves. Nerris, I would like a word in private."

Nerris reluctantly tore his gaze from Valez's sneering face and grunted. "Of course, your Constancy."

He handed off his sword to one of the wide-eyed recruits and followed Rade into the keep and down a corridor, which wound around toward the palace gardens. It was late spring now, and the flowers were in full bloom. Purple, red, and lavender petals dotted the landscape of the garden, along with well-trimmed hedges and a few trees. A family of robins had even nested in one. As ever, the birds cared nothing about magical stones or cults. Life found its way, even in this bastion of sorrow.

"I have to say you look splendid in your new armor," Nerris said. "The last time I saw you it was difficult to think of you as anyone except Rade, but now I see the Dume-General that once was."

"Thank you," Rade said, "though I fear, as ever, I am the rogue among the faithful."

"Hardly. Lukas is timid, Falares is a bully, and where in the world did you dig up Valez Vaed?"

"Dume Valez now," Rade said. "We're supposed to give up our surnames and familial connections when we vow to uphold the Law of Eight."

Nerris nodded. "Still, you are perhaps the only one who has Qabala's true interests at heart." He noticed Rade look around, as if to make sure no one listened. "You still haven't told her, have you?"

"No," Rade said. "I would aim to keep our secret just that. Tell me, Nerris, what have you been up to since you left us?"

"I did what you suggested," Nerris said. "I went home. You were right, Rade. I am the Catalyst, and I've found the Stonechaser. She is here, imprisoned in the dungeons with my friends."

Rade stopped, his eyes wide. "Here? This is disaster, Nerris! I never meant for the Stonechaser to cross paths with Qabala."

"We didn't have much choice," Nerris said. "I don't know how, but Qabala knew we were in Yagolhan and sent her thugs to grab us. And that's not the worst of it. She has the first beacon, the treasure we took from a place forged by King Jinn himself."

Rade shook his head. "Qabala has been questioning Prince Lahnel's earth cleric. She knows all about the Stonechaser Prophecy and thinks she must have both stones."

"I know," Nerris said. "All she has talked about is Dist, Jhareth, and myself helping her find the Exemplus."

"Qabala cannot be allowed to have them," Rade said. "To do so would allow her absolute power. Should she wish for Eversor to be allowed entrance to this world, no one could stop her."

"But if we find the Exemplus first, Len-Ahl will use it to fight the Fatexion. Are you sure you would be able to let your own daughter be destroyed, Rade?"

"It's not quite as simple as all that," Rade said. "You are a warrior and think in terms of battle. The fight of the two stones is not about destroying the other, but correcting what was done to it in antiquity."

"What do you mean?"

"Back when I served Yahd Aeternus, I was still troubled by my old life," Rade said. "My uncle, a once bright man who had practically raised me, was deteriorating into madness before my eyes. No one knew the cause, and I sought answers. I found them in an obscure tome in his manor, a collection of premonitions called the Black Prophecies."

"I've heard something of this book," Nerris said.

"That was where I learned of the nature of Eversor, the Tattered Man, the Doom Rock, all of it," Rade said. "Guided by the spirit of Queen Angelica, I tracked down every prophecy I could to find a way to stop what was to come. I finally came across the Stonechaser Prophecy and set out to find the Catalyst and the Stonechaser, even at the expense of my vow to the Aeternus. What I found was your father."

"And you defeated the Tattered Man."

"For a time," Rade said. "As you've no doubt seen from the fanatics in the streets, he is beginning to regain his power. But I was mistaken. The time was not yet ripe for both stones to emerge, and Derrin Palada was neither the Catalyst nor the Stonechaser. Now I believe that time has come. You must take the Stonechaser and leave this place, Nerris, no matter what the cost."

"And if we do find the Exemplus?" Nerris asked. "Where will you stand?"

"I will be loyal to my daughter. To the end."

"I see," Nerris said. "You'll fight against us to protect her?"

"You still don't understand," Rade said. "The stones will not destroy each other, because to do so would destroy the essence of our world. Indeed, they are two halves of the same power. They are not meant to fight each other; they are meant to be reunited."

"And the Stoneholder will have the power to acknowledge or deny Eversor for good," Nerris finished. "Either the corruption of the Doom Rock spreads or it is expunged." It made sense. Two stones who shared equal power would only cancel the other out. They needed to banish Eversor from this world, not merely delay him again.

Rade nodded. "I wish to meet the Stonechaser. I have to be sure this time. Do you think she will answer my questions?"

"Len-Ahl is fairly secretive, even to her friends," Nerris said. "She may be more forthcoming if I'm with you, but Qabala won't let me into the dungeons. She thinks if I'm allowed to confer with Dist and Jhareth that we'll find a way to escape."

"We have no choice," Rade said. "If I have to, I'll sneak you in."

Nerris laughed. "That's only appropriate, Rade. The last time I enjoyed the hospitality of Qabala's dungeons, it was you who sneaked me out."

# Chapter Thirty

LEN-AHL'S ROUGH WOOL blanket lay unused on the straw pallet of her cell. There was no need for it down here. Darkness consumed the dungeon, the only light seeping in from torches outside in the corridor. She was underground, she knew, yet she was warm, as if one of Dist's fires burned a few feet away, and could not explain why.

She felt the absence of the Faery Realm in this place. Even the gnomes who followed the will of Gobe were not present in this catacomb. It was because of the strong presence of the Cult of Eversor, she realized. This was the place Eversor planned to enter their world, and his essence was too much for the faeries to bear. She did not like what that meant for this city. The faeries were the caretakers of the world and their absence meant eventual woe for Palehorse.

She huddled in the corner of her cell, her backside aching as it pressed against the stone floor. She had dreamed this back in Orrigo. Ever since she had begun playing the melody referred to as "Paral's breath," visions had come to her unbidden. So many possibilities, and this was the one to come true. She had not told the others because of all those possible futures. Though their ride to Palehorse had been hard on all of them, she took comfort in the feeling accompanying her dreams, the feeling that something important was meant to happen here.

That did not mean it had not hurt her when Nerris's connection with the Yagol queen was revealed. Those emotions hit her unexpectedly. Nerris had the right to give his love to whomever he wished. She had not even met him when he and Qabala were keeping company. Yet it hurt all the same. In spite of his warrior's reputation, Nerris was a gentle man. What had he seen in that vile woman who housed such corruption within her?

"Human men have a reputation for being simpler creatures than females," her mother had once told her. "Yet if the menfolk rule their world, why is there such disparity? There are rough, gentle, violent, and peaceful men. Some kings have destroyed nations where others forged peaceful alliances. Some men seek out status and the truths of the world to the end of their days, while some are content with their plowshares, looking no further than the edge of their fields."

Len-Ahl sighed. She missed her mother so much at times. For twenty-one years, they lived in that patch of forest together. All it had taken was the span of a moment, and she was alone. It was a difficult adjustment to make.

She had known about her ultimate journey as long as she could remember. Her mother told her stories of the Exemplus and the Fatexion and how it had once been a single stone, until the event the faeries called the Day of Sundering. She had been immersed in the faeries' magical lore, which had manifested itself in her music.

Mother had warned her innocence would be tested, that it would be hard on her, both in mind and body. Only now that she had some real experience in the world did Len-Ahl understand the complex nature of humans, their cruelty and their gentleness, their selfishness and generosity. It was one thing to be told, another to do. The faeries she had grown up with were not like that. They were cut from a single roll of cloth, but colored differently. Salamanders with their flames, sylphs gliding through the air, undines splashing in the water, and gnomes toiling in the earth. Humans were cut from many different fabrics. Wool, cotton, silk; humans had much variety.

When her mother disappeared, she knew the time for her journey was near. And then she met Nerris. He was the first human she had ever gotten to know, and her own humanity soared whenever they were together. She had always been close to the Faery Realm, but Nerris completed her human side, a part of her she never even knew existed. Though she knew it would complicate matters, she could not help it. His caring nature and kindness earned her admiration, and eventually her love.

But then she had played the song of the prophecy, and the dreams began. She saw many visions of the future, but all of them shared one trait: she and Nerris were not meant to be together. In one future, he grew to love her in return. However, she spurned him in order to avoid the other future, the one she did not even want to consider. It had brought on intense feelings of hatred from Nerris, and it was all Len-Ahl could do to avoid screaming as she awakened.

A key in the lock of her cell jolted her out of her thoughts. The rusted hinges squealed as the door swung open. Len-Ahl squinted into the torchlight, but could not make out the two men who entered. She knew they were male; it was in their stature, the way they walked, and that smell of sinewy sweat which seemed to permeate in human men. Remembering the stares of the soldiers on the road and the leering of the foul man Falares, she shrank back into her corner.

"Don't be alarmed," said a pleasant voice. He set his torch in a sconce and threw back his hood. A gray-haired man stared at her. Though elderly, his eyes gave off a youthful twinkle, reflecting the torchlight.

The other man threw back his hood, and her heart lifted. "Nerris!" She tried to rise, but stumbled in her excitement and fell back into the corner.

"Easy, Len-Ahl," Nerris said. He held out a hand and helped her to her feet, and she found herself in his warm embrace. "Are you all right? Have Qabala's men harmed you in any way?"

"No," she said. "They left me down here in the dark. I have been so frightened."

"We'll see about getting you out of here real soon," the other man said. "Such a lovely lady shouldn't be hidden down here."

Len-Ahl smiled at the graybeard. She liked him already.

"This is Rade," Nerris said. "I knew him from my previous stint in Qabala's army, and he is now one of her Dume-Generals. He's the one who set me on the path which led me to you. He knows about the prophecy, the Catalyst, all of it."

"You do?" Len-Ahl asked Rade. "How do you know about all that?"

"I was an acquaintance of Queen Angelica once," Rade said, with a twinge of sadness, she thought. "It's a long story, but I'm a part of this as much as you are, Len-Ahl. I know what you must do, and that we must get you away from here. Tell me, child, have you been having dreams lately?"

Len-Ahl nodded. "I dreamed I would come to this place, and that it would exact its toll on me. But I also got a certain feeling, like there was something I had to do here, or someone I had to meet. It is difficult to gather my thoughts in this dank place. I wish my mother was here. She always explained these things much better than I could."

"Who was your mother?" Rade asked. "What was her name?"

"I do not know," Len-Ahl said. "She never talked about herself very much, and I only ever called her 'Mother.' Is it important, Master Rade?"

"Perhaps." Rade moved toward the torch to get a better view of her. "Please, look at me for a moment. I have to be sure of something."

Len-Ahl met his gaze, and he stared into her eyes. Despite their mischievous twinkle, she could tell this old man's eyes had seen a lot. After a few moments, he tore his gaze from hers and turned away. He disguised it well, but Len-Ahl briefly saw sorrow on his face. Before she could inquire about it, Nerris interrupted her thoughts.

"Len-Ahl," he said, "I'm truly sorry about everything that's happened. I should have told you, Dist, and Jhareth of the nature of my relationship with Qabala." He held her hands in his, and she could feel the lingering warmth from the outside world, a feeling she had not experienced in days.

"It is all right," Len-Ahl said. "This hardship is all part of being a Thrillseeker, no?"

Nerris chuckled. "I can't say we haven't been thrown in a dungeon or two. But I promise, I will get you out as soon as Rade and I can think of something. I haven't forgotten you. You have a journey in front of you, and I want you to trust me. Know that no matter what I may do, I am on your side."

Len-Ahl smiled. "I would never stop believing that."

She saw Rade observing them out of the corner of her eye, and the Dume-General coughed. "I'm going to give you two a few minutes to yourself, but hurry it up, Nerris. If we're gone too long, we'll be missed."

Nerris nodded. "Thank you, Rade."

Rade exited the cell and shut the door behind him. Len-Ahl sat on her straw pallet, and Nerris knelt beside her. "Are you and Qabala really lovers?" she asked.

"Yes," Nerris said, "and we have bedded together once again since I arrived here."

Len-Ahl had to laugh in spite of herself. Nerris was not one to tell lies, but he did keep things hidden. In his haste to comfort her, he was baring all at the moment, and she sensed this might be her chance to get him to open up, if she had the courage to ask the questions on her mind.

"How can you love a woman like that?" she said. "Is she the one you talked about, the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with?"

"No," Nerris said. "That woman's name was Ketsuya. She died three years ago, and Qabala was my first lover since that time. She awakened feelings of passion in me I hadn't felt in years, not just for the flesh but for life. It's hard to explain if you haven't lost someone you were devoted to so fully, but after Ketsuya's death I wanted so bad to follow her. And I would have, if Dist and Jhareth hadn't stopped me. But for the next three years, I was a mere shell, alive in body but dead in the soul. Until I met Qabala. For that, I owe her no end of gratitude, and it pains me to see what she has become. But she seems to be on a separate path, drifting farther away from me with every passing day. If only I had met her sooner..."

Len-Ahl shook her head. "If that had happened, we might not have met."

"There's that too," Nerris said. "I've been confused these past couple of months. I never thought I would love again after Ketsuya, but Qabala showed me I could. And after I left Yagolhan I met you. And I have never been happier. I think I..."

He couldn't quite bring himself to say it, bless his heart. She knew if he put those words into the air, he would look at it as the final betrayal of his Ketsuya. She could not let him do that. Not until the day when he understood it was not dishonorable to let go, or the consequences of what those words would entail for the both of them.

"You do not have to say anything," she said, putting a hand on his arm. "I know what is in your heart, Nerris."

He smiled wanly. "You aren't going to ask me how she died?"

"It is not my place."

Nerris sighed, visibly relieved. He brushed a stray hair out of her face. "I'm not sure I can adequately explain it myself. But maybe someday. Right now, the important thing is to get you away from Qabala. I need to talk with Dist and Jhareth as well, and get her to release them if possible. And find a way to get Jinn's medallion back."

He rose and made his way to the door, and Len-Ahl found she did not want him to go. When he was gone, she would be in darkness again. Everything seemed easier to bear when Nerris was near.

Nerris opened the door and kissed her on the forehead. Len-Ahl bit her lip, determined to keep herself from crying. She had to be brave, and show him she could be fierce as a warrior queen like Qabala. He stepped out of the room, and Len-Ahl caught one last glimpse of Rade as he shut the door.

She looked at the torch, still in the wall sconce. "You will not need light?" she asked through the small barred window in the thick door.

"We'll manage," Rade said. "That is yours now, and when it goes out I'll send a gaoler down with another. I promise you will not want for light anymore."

Len-Ahl bowed her head. "Thank you."

Nerris reached through the bars and touched hands with her for one brief moment. "I will be back for you," he said.

In a moment they were gone, and Len-Ahl turned back to her pallet, feeling hope for the first time since she had come to this accursed place. They had taken her flute, but they had not taken her voice. She hummed a melody to the tune of the crackling of the salamanders' flames, and filled the empty space with her lament.

She closed her eyes as she hummed, but she soon sensed something else present. Nerris and Rade had left, so why did she still feel a presence? She opened her eyes and stared at the corner of her cell. A trick of the light, perhaps, but the shadows there seemed blacker somehow, and misty. Len-Ahl stopped her song and set her jaw, scowling at the blackness.

_"You have no right to judge me, half-faery,"_ the Tattered Man said. The black mist drifted between a figure in a tattered robe and shapelessness, shifting like the billows of a cloud. _"You may be the Stonechaser, but there is much you do not yet understand."_

"No doubt," Len-Ahl said to the emotionless voice. "Understanding is not required to complete a task you believe in."

_"The famous naivety of the faeries."_ The shape of the Tattered Man finally formed, his pale hands almost glowing against the gray of his robes. _"You are the world's oldest beings, yet you all think like children. Allow me to introduce myself."_

"I know who you are," Len-Ahl said.

_"And you are not afraid?"_

"You are Eversor's foothold in our world, a mere extension of his will. I am not frightened by figments of the imagination."

_"I am much more than a figment,"_ the Tattered Man said. _"Ask your Queen Angelica, if you can find her."_

Len-Ahl shook her head. "I do not need to. If you mean to intimidate me, do not trouble yourself. I know you cannot harm humans."

_"You are only half-human."_

"But you need me," Len-Ahl said. "The reunion of the Exemplus and the Fatexion can open the gateway for Eversor, or it can seal him off from our world forever. But all of this with Yagolhan and the Cult is useless unless the second godstone is found."

_"Very perceptive,"_ the Tattered Man said. _"Whoever versed you in the secrets of the Stonechaser did so admirably."_

"The Stonechaser will uncover the Exemplus, and the Stonechaser has to earn her power. Your Qabala only understands that which is given to her. When it comes right down to it, that is all Eversor understands, no? The likes of you have no concept of struggle, love, friendship, or achievement."

_"An admirable sentiment,"_ the Tattered Man said, _"but what will you do when you acquire that power? Angelica went through much trouble to conceal it. You may end up my instrument after all, like the last Stonechaser. I know you have seen that future as well."_

The mist faded, and the Tattered Man vanished. Len-Ahl let out her breath. If the Tattered Man could only appear for such a brief period, perhaps his hold on the Yagols was not as strong as she feared. Still, he remained a dangerous foe as long as he controlled Qabala and the Cult of Eversor, and his power would grow with time unless stopped.

She wondered why she felt no fear at meeting the enemy of her people. Perhaps because for all his power, he struggled as she did. And the consequences for his failure would be equally as dire for him. As she stared into the torchlight, she realized she need not fear the blackness. For even the darkest night had a sunrise. The light would always return.

# Chapter Thirty-One

QABALA TAPPED HER fingers on the arm of her sitting chair as Meeka inserted the hot tongs into her hair. "Don't burn me again," she said. "Do it slowly."

"Yes, my Eternal," Meeka said. "I am sorry."

Meeka could press a white hot iron to her flesh, and the burn marks would heal as soon as she removed it. However, the power of the Fatexion did nothing to dull the pain. The consequences of every wound she suffered were felt, and it would remain that way until the day when she reunited the godstone with the Exemplus.

Qabala sighed. "It's not your fault, Meeka. I cannot seem to stop fidgeting."

Tonight was the banquet in celebration of the arrival of the ambassadors from Miagama. The Irahi Sorcerers' Guild had once been a power to be reckoned with in the far-flung eastern nation, to the point of causing stability problems for the Shogunate. Nowadays they were another dwindling order, much like the Earth Clerics. But where the clerics had once tapped into the power of the faeries, the Irahi drew their power from Eversor, even if it took them millennia to realize this. The Tattered Man had suggested she seek their aid, as he had worked diligently to nurture their power over the centuries.

She glanced toward the balcony, where their gift rested against the glass doors. It worked much as a spyglass, but was longer in length. It had come with the arrival of the governor's vanguard. A spyglass which would allow her to closely gaze upon the stars themselves. According to their letter, only a few existed in this world, and had been recently invented by a pair of astronomers from Dellain. She could not wait to try it out, with Nerris by her side, of course.

However, first she had to make it through the banquet. Such occasion was mere tedium compared to the evening she had planned with Nerris afterward. She had decided to try a new hairstyle for the occasion, and suffered Meeka's pokes and prods as the slave attempted to curl her hair with tongs heated in the fire. Truthfully, she didn't much care for the process, and her hair would most likely be back to its natural wavy flow by the time the Miagamese governor arrived in a fortnight.

She smiled at that thought. Perhaps she would let Meznas sacrifice that woodwitch in the dungeons. Such an act would leave no doubt to the Irahi where her loyalties resided. She would throw another banquet to honor the governor, one where she planned to announce her engagement to Nerris. She wondered if he would appreciate her new look. She might decide to keep it yet if it made him forget about that half-faery wretch.

A knock sounded on her door, causing the Aeterna to turn her head sharply. Meeka poked her scalp again with the hot tongs and Qabala grimaced. She stood and slapped the tongs out of Meeka's hands. "Enough, Meeka."

The slave curtsied and rushed to answer the door. Meznas entered, a look of distaste writ on his face. He bowed. "My Eternal."

"Yes, Meznas?"

"The ambassador of the Irahi Sorcerers' Guild awaits at your pleasure in the great hall," he said. The Grand Menista wore resplendent robes of black satin with crimson inlays to mark his rank. However, he also wore a sullen look on his face, and his eyes were flinty.

"What is it?" Qabala asked.

Meznas pursed his lips as if reluctant to speak. "Do we truly need these conjurors, my Eternal?" he asked. "The Cult and its practitioners are far more advanced than these yellow devils, both in ability and numbers. Has my service not been satisfactory?"

"I will need your followers here to fight Prince Lahnel when I go on my journey," Qabala said. "I have some specialized tasks in mind for the Irahi."

Qabala let Meeka finish her hair and dress her, and marched through the corridors of the Aeternica, meeting her Dume-Generals outside the great hall. Dume Yorne's armor was polished to perfection, his eyes gazing at her through the hollowed slits of his helm's visor. Dumes Valez, Quin, and Lukas had fancied up as well, all dust and dirt washed from their plate and cloaks. Even Falares didn't smell as rancid as usual, and she wondered if he had bathed or merely saturated his armor with scented oil.

They entered the great hall from the side entrance, and Qabala ascended the dais where the throne of Yagolhan sat. The midday light beamed in from the long, vertical windows, illuminating the figures kneeling before the throne.

"On behalf of the country of Yagolhan and the Order of Peacekeepers, we welcome you," Dume Yorne said. "Rise, and be received by Queen Qabala Aeterna, the Unbreakable, ruler of all Yagolhan."

The ambassador and his entourage found their feet, and she found herself looking upon a slight, bearded man with the angular eyes and olive skin of the Miagamese. "Far and wide have the tales of the emergence of the Aeterna spread," he said in a thick accent. "Even in far off Miagama the deeds of Queen Qabala are told within our circles. I am honored to represent the Irahi Sorcerers' Guild in offering our assistance to your Eternal in all matters which you would find us useful."

"I graciously accept your service," Qabala said. "For far too long has the power of the Irahi gone without notice or respect in the world at large. Upon my victory over Prince Lahnel, perhaps we can change that in a way which would benefit both of us."

The ambassador's arms were folded together, concealed by the wide sleeves of his robe. He inclined his head to her. "The governor wishes to treat with you on these matters personally, your Eternal. He has sent us, the chosen few, with a demonstration of the power we can offer you."

Qabala nodded, and the ambassador and his underlings stepped out of the way. There were maybe a half dozen of them, and they had concealed a wheeled structure behind them. It contained a great stone which she thought to be crystal, and it had the diameter of a wide shield. The two most ancient men she had ever seen stood on either side of it. Toothless and wrinkled to the point they barely resembled humans, they were bent and no taller than children. They wore flowing robes, and thin strips of black cloth covered their eyes, which had characters in the Miagamese language painted on them. Perhaps most shocking was that these old men were bound hand and foot in fetters.

"These men are Denzai," the ambassador said. "Sorcerers among our order bound in slavery for their own protection, lest their power be unleashed without restraint. Approach the scrying crystal and they will show you many things you did not know."

"Such as?" Qabala asked.

"Past, present, future," the ambassador said, "but above all, truth."

Qabala descended the dais, and Lukas and Falares parted to let her pass. However, Dume Yorne held out his arm. "My Eternal," he whispered. "Can we trust these men?"

"Nothing they can do will harm me," Qabala said. "I carry the Doom Rock."

"It is not your physical well being which worries me," Yorne said. "The Irahi are known as soul stealers. There's no telling what you could see..."

Qabala laid a hand on Yorne's gauntlet and gently pushed it aside. "I sense much power in the Irahi. They can aid me. But if they do play false, act accordingly."

She could hear Dume Yorne's resigned sigh through his visor, but he let her pass. Qabala approached the scrying crystal, and the fettered old men began to chant in a language she did not recognize. They sang the same phrase over and over again, their voices in unison.

The Denzai held their hands up. _"Tunfa katua, tunfa katua,"_ they continued to chant in raspy voices.

Qabala stopped several paces from the crystal and looked at the ambassador. "What now?"

"Merely gaze into the crystal. Let your thoughts come naturally and you will see a secret revealed."

Qabala turned her gaze back to the luminous crystal, which was emanating a faint glow. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to think about. The Tattered Man had said the Irahi would be able to help her, but she was not sure she wanted to rely on him so much. She was perfectly capable on her own, and with Nerris at her side, she felt like she could do anything.

The surface of the great crystal shimmered, and Qabala lost all sense of the great hall. Instead, she seemed to be in one of her dungeon cells deep beneath the Aeternica. Turning toward the door, she saw Nerris standing in front of her. Before she could ask him what was happening, he stepped forward as if not seeing her. She held out her hands to stop a collision, but Nerris passed right through her as if an apparition.

She whirled around and saw him standing over a huddled figure in the corner. Upon closer inspection, she saw a head of blonde hair darkened by dirt and dust, and hissed. It was _that girl_. Nerris stooped beside her and spoke, though Qabala could not hear him. She watched the silent conversation, but no words could tell her the story better than the girl's eyes. She reached toward Nerris with her soul, and worse, Nerris was responding.

She could feel the emotions between them, and the truth finally came for Qabala. This girl not only loved Nerris, he loved her as well. Her heart dropped, and Qabala sank to her knees. She had vowed long ago to never cry again, but tears formed in her eyes nonetheless. She wept into her hands as Nerris and the girl held each other close.

"Why?" she said between sobs. "Oh, Nerris, after all we've shared—"

She willed herself to stop. She was not the helpless girl who wept every night her foster father rolled on top of her in Verchak. She was Qabala the Unbreakable, the one chosen to create a new world, and she did not deserve to be treated this way.

"Enough," she yelled, getting to her feet. "Let me out of this demon's vision! Let me—"

There was a flash of light, and Qabala was back in the great hall. The shock of the transition caused her to stumble, and the ambassador moved forward to help her. Qabala waved him off.

"I see your truths," she said to him, "though I cannot thank you for them. Please leave me."

The ambassador nodded and barked out some orders in Miagamese. His subordinates pushed the scrying crystal away, with the Denzai filing out behind them. When they had all left, Qabala sank to her knees once more and her Dume-Generals started forward.

"What did you see?" Qabala asked.

"Nothing," Quin answered. "You stood there sort of rigid, my Eternal. Then you began shaking. That's when you came out of whatever you were under."

"Good." No one had seen her weep. Qabala stared at the cracks in the floor. She would not show weakness. She would hear the truth from Nerris's own lips. If he proved himself unfaithful, a lesson would be required. "Where is Nerris?" she asked.

Her Dume-Generals cast glances at each other, but none of them were able to answer. "We are not sure, my Eternal," Valez finally said.

"Valez, Falares, Lukas, with me," Qabala said. "Round up a dozen men."

"My Eternal—" Yorne said.

"Stay out of this, Dume Yorne," Qabala said. "I know he is your friend, but you cannot protect him now. You and Quin are dismissed."

Yorne bit back further response with a grunt, bowed, and exited. Quin did the same and followed him. Those two were too close to Nerris, but she knew Falares and Valez harbored no love for him. If Nerris was going to spit on her hospitality, spit on her love for him, she would treat him in kind.

After Valez summoned some guards, Falares dispatched them to find Nerris and summon him to her chambers. It was not long before it was done, and Qabala marched back to her quarters, picking up guards as she went along. She knew how dangerous Nerris could be when provoked, and didn't want a spectacle like the last time.

She threw the door open to her bedroom and entered with Falares and Valez in tow. Nerris sat up from her favorite chair. "Qabala," he said. Then he laid eyes on Valez. "What is _he_ doing here?"

"You've lost the privilege of questions," Qabala said. "Tell me the truth, Nerris. You went to see that girl despite my instructions for you not to set foot in the dungeons."

Nerris's face hardened. "What of it? Len-Ahl is my friend. That will never change."

Qabala's heart sank all over again. The Denzai had seen it true. Nerris did not even have the good sense to lie about it. "I loved you," she said, her voice faltering. "You loved me once as well. Tell me, Nerris. Tell me what she has that I am lacking. What have I not given you?"

"Qabala, I do love you."

"Liar!" Qabala's sadness turned to anger. She had seen how he held that girl in his arms in her vision, and the look in his eye when he spoke of her. Did he think she was stupid? "At every turn you resist, Nerris. What if I sent away everyone? Falares, Valez, the Cult, the Tattered Man. If it were you and me and no one else, what would you give up to be with me? That girl? The Thrillseekers? What will it take?"

Nerris's shoulders slumped. "We can't be together, Qabala. Not even if we were alone. I've tried to deny it myself a thousand times, but when I go to sleep, I think of Len-Ahl. And when I wake up, she is my first thought. That doesn't mean you have meant nothing to me, but it does mean we cannot continue this way."

Qabala fixed him with a cold stare. "You're right. I was such a fool. The Tattered Man was right. The only thing that matters is finding the Elemental Stone. And you and that girl are going to help me find it. And I will have your love even if I have to use the godstones to make it be so. I will not accept any other outcome."

Nerris shook his head. "Qabala—"

"Until then, you can enjoy the same accommodations as your friends." She nodded to Falares and Valez. "Take him."

Falares barked some orders and the room filled with guards. Nerris tensed, but he had no weapon and could not fight them. Several pairs of gloved hands grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him from the chamber. As he passed her, his face held a mixture of confusion, anger, and longing. Qabala forced herself to turn away, attempting to hide the tears which ran down her cheeks.

# Chapter Thirty-Two

NERRIS WALKED DOWN the corridors of the Aeternica's dungeons with two guards at his back, and two more in front. A turnkey led their procession, keys jingling at his side. Nerris slowed a bit, causing one of the men at his back to jab him with his blade. He smiled: these men were smart. They knew his reputation, and kept their sabers drawn and ready.

After leading him toward the upper levels, the turnkey unlocked a door which led into another corridor. This one was better kept than the cell he had previously occupied. Qabala had not taken any chances when she sent him to the dungeons; she put him deep in the lower levels in a cell which lacked windows, reeked of mildew, and had a mud floor. As he suspected might happen, he was moved a short time later.

The guards had not allowed him questions, but merely shackled his wrists and told him to march, scaring away a rat which had taken up residence. This area of the dungeon was closer to the surface, and at least some of the light came from the outside world. His escort stopped him in front of a thick wooden door and unshackled him. Nerris suspected these men were acting on Rade's orders, and if he was correct, he had a good wager as to who was behind the door.

The guards shoved him inside and locked the cell. Nerris stumbled forward, but a pair of thick arms caught him before he could fall.

"Nerris?" came Dist's surprised voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the new attendant," Nerris said. "So how are you enjoying your stay in the city of Palehorse?"

Dist chuckled. "You son of a bitch. I don't know whether to hit you or kiss you."

Nerris stood upright and disentangled himself from his friend. "I'd rather you hit me, if those are my options." He looked around. Their cell was quite spacious, as cells went. The floors were dirt, but the walls were built of the same red stone which lined the walls of the Aeternica. About eight feet from the floor, light shined through a small, barred window. From the angle of the light, he judged it to be early morning. "Where are we?"

"I heard a guard say the courtyard out there used to be an arena for gladiatorial combat," Dist said. "Apparently these cells used to be where the fighters lived."

Nerris hummed. That explained the windows. Dungeons weren't known for their fresh air. Constant darkness and loss of a sense of time were more preferable to breaking a man than scenic views of the outside world. But when Palehorse had been known as Ariska, capital of the Aristian Empire, gladiators were considered great warriors. They would have been given much better treatment than the average prisoner.

"What have you been doing all this time?" Dist asked.

"Negotiating your release."

Dist glanced around them at the four stone walls and the locked door. "Nice work," he said with a straight face.

"How's your leg?" Nerris asked.

Though the cell was still somewhat dark, his friend's blue eyes still twinkled. He gestured to the bandage around his right leg. "Better. This girl, Meeka, was sent by Qabala to heal it. I was wary at first, but she was fantastic. The wound had become infected, and had it been allowed to continue, I would have lost my leg. She saved me."

Nerris smiled. "Meeka is a treasure."

"Pretty too," Dist said. "She was resistant to my charms at first, but after a few visits I had her telling me what was going on out there." He wrinkled his face in disgust. "I heard Qabala named Valez Vaed a Dume-General."

"She was correct."

"Any chance of getting up there and sticking a knife in that traitorous bastard?"

"Let's worry about getting out of here," Nerris said. "I don't suppose you know where Jhareth is."

"I'm here," called Jhareth's voice.

Nerris looked around, but didn't see anyone. Their cell wasn't so large that Jhareth could have been lurking in the shadows the whole time. He glanced at Dist, who gestured toward the window. He walked under it and crouched all fours, and Nerris finally understood. He stepped onto his friend's back, and grabbed the bars to hold himself upright.

"Jhareth?" he called.

"To your left," came Jhareth's voice, now clear as glass. "I'm in the cell next to you."

"What are you standing on?"

"Surnal."

"What's a surnal?"

"Not a what, a who," Jhareth said. "My cellmate is named Surnal. He's a woodwitch. He knows magic, like Len-Ahl."

"Hello," called a fainter voice. "It is nice to meet you at last, Nerris. I am Nateus Surnal, of the Earth Clerics."

"He knows about all of this," Jhareth said. "The Stonechaser, the Catalyst, what we have to do. He's one of the last Earth Clerics, he says, and his order is well-versed in the prophecies of Queen Angelica."

"Does Qabala know that?" Nerris asked.

"No," said Surnal. "I have denied knowing anything which could aid her, despite my repeated thrashings. Until recently, I was with Prince Lahnel and his army. When the last temple of my order was sacked by the Cult of Eversor, I hastened to do what I could to aid the survivors, but the Cult had my people slaughtered. I knew the time had come for the Stonechaser to emerge, and I surrendered myself to Qabala's men."

"You allowed yourself to be imprisoned and tortured?" Nerris asked.

"It is the will of Angelica that I accompany the Stonechaser on her journey," Surnal said. "When I realized it was not to be Qabala, I knew I had to bide my time and she would cross my path eventually. From what Dist and Jhareth have told me about this Len-Ahl, it seems I was correct."

"He says Prince Lahnel has a force of men hidden in the forest to the south," Jhareth said. "If we can escape from the city, they'll give us cover while we make our way to Lesta. He says the Prince will give us refuge there."

Nerris bit back his next question and considered. If they went to Lesta, would Prince Lahnel give refuge to the man who killed his father? He had his doubts.

"So what happened?" Jhareth asked. "What caused Qabala to throw you in here with us?"

"She was smarter than that," Nerris said, "but I have friends in her court. Dume Yorne, for one. I'm fairly sure he was the one who put me in here with you."

"Why?"

"He knows everything we and Surnal know," Nerris said. "We were making plans to get you and Len-Ahl out of Palehorse already."

"And Qabala?"

"She learned of a visit I made to Len-Ahl's cell and flew into a jealous rage. Qabala thinks I'm in love with her, and she wouldn't have that."

"Really?" Jhareth asked suggestively.

Nerris sighed. "All right, so I am in love with Len-Ahl. I admit that now. I'll do everything in my power to get her away from this vile place."

"This is the best thing that could have happened," Jhareth said. "If you visited her cell, you know where she is. Now that we're all here, we can come up with a plan."

"You're forgetting one thing," Dist called. "Qabala has the first beacon, remember? That medallion we took from the statue of Jinn."

"She has my sword too," Nerris said. "I'm not leaving without either one of them."

"Once we get them back, any ideas for an escape?" Jhareth asked. "I'm not that familiar with this city."

"When we killed King Lahnen, we used a secret tunnel and an old smuggling trail behind the stables," Nerris said, "but Dume Lukas was the one who suggested that, and Qabala knows about it. The southwestern wall is lightly guarded, and is lower to the ground than at other spots in the Aeternica."

"That has some possibilities," Jhareth said.

"It's a straight drop into the Blue River," Nerris said, "and not much in the way of handholds. I'd only risk it as a last alternative, since the currents can be quite fast. No, there's a block of cells close to here where there's another secret tunnel. I escaped through it last time things went sour here, and it leads to the sewers. I don't think Qabala knows about it. Still, the sewers aren't going to take us beyond the city walls unless we go through the river lines and risk drowning. We'll still have to figure something else out if we take that route." He thought for a moment. "Any ideas on how to get out of these cells themselves?"

"I can blow open these doors the same way I did that cave entrance," Dist said from under him. "Do you smell that?"

Nerris sniffed. Indeed, a putrid odor permeated the cell, similar to the one within the dark cave where they had discovered Jinn's medallion. "Is that sulfur?"

"The floor is rife with sulfur dust," Dist said. "If I can convince that girl Meeka to bring me the proper materials, I can funnel ignition powder into the cell lock." He looked at the small, barred window built into the door. "Then it's a matter of making a fuse long enough to get into the keyhole."

"Wait for a turnkey," Jhareth said, adding on to his friend's idea. "Blow the door onto him and take his keys so we can get out of the block."

"That's probably not feasible from in here. The blast should propel the door inward. We'll have to wait for him to come and investigate the noise before we ambush him."

"And let the other prisoners out before we leave," Nerris said. "A riot would keep Qabala nice and busy for a while. There are certainly enough of them."

"By Angelica's gentle touch," Surnal said, "I am beginning to see why they call you the Thrillseekers."

Jhareth laughed. "Stick with us a while, Nateus. We're just getting started."

Nerris had a horrible thought. "Dist, about your sulfur idea—"

"Don't worry. I'll make sure the explosion's contained this time."

That did not alleviate Nerris's trepidation all that much, since he knew Dist's definition of _contained_ was a vague concept, at best. "Why is there sulfur dust in here anyway?"

"It's one of the signs of an active volcano," Dist said.

"Are you saying there's a volcano under Palehorse?"

"If not, there will be one soon," Dist said. "I used to scavenge for the stuff, you know. I know my geology."

"We should probably warn someone," Nerris said.

"Who cares about that right now?" Jhareth asked. "I'm mainly interested in getting us out of here. Let's go over the basic skeleton of our plan: first, Dist blows open our doors. We steal keys and weapons and let the other prisoners loose. Then Nerris leads us through the depths and we retrieve Len-Ahl. Somehow we get the katana and the medallion, and we use one of our escape routes to make our way toward the forest to the south. Prince Lahnel's men throw off our pursuers and we flee southeast to Lesta."

"Easy, right?" Dist said.

"You wanted an adventurous life," Jhareth said. "If you wanted easy, you should have taken up mining or woodcutting. Do you have any ideas how we're going to get the medallion away from Qabala, Nerris?"

"I'm still a bit thorny on that count," he said. "We'll have to work out the finer details later."

Nerris had not been able to sleep much in his former cell, and despite the sulfurous odor, this one was much more comfortable, and the light shining in from outside put his mind at ease. He hopped off Dist's back and napped for a while. He awoke to the sound of their door being unbolted, and the creak of the hinges as it opened. Still groggy, he rubbed at his eyes as the lithe form of a woman entered. The door shut behind her.

"Meeka?" Nerris asked.

Meeka looked at him, and turned her eyes away. "I'm not supposed to speak to you, Nerris. This is not where my Eternal put you."

Dist flashed her his handsomest smile. "He's with the other important people now, where he belongs. Though I'm a little put out that someone of my celebrity no longer has their own private quarters."

Meeka actually smiled. Nerris was amazed; he had never seen her do that before.

"From what I hear, the dungeons are overflowing with prisoners of war," she said. "There hasn't been much choice but to double up on occupancy. Now show me that leg, and we'll see if you're recovered."

Dist hiked up the right leg of his trousers, and Meeka inspected his wound. Nerris noted the griffons' bite marks had scabbed over and some of the lesser lacerations were fading. His leg was also returning to its normal color.

"The discoloration has faded and it seems to be scarring up nicely," Meeka said, echoing his thoughts. "The infection is gone, though you probably won't be running at full speed for a while."

Dist shared a glance with Nerris. That was a problem they had not considered. They would all need to be at full strength if they planned to make a grand escape work.

"Thank you so much for all you've done," his friend said to Meeka. "You saved my life."

Meeka blushed and smiled again, showing off dimples on her cheeks. "I only did as my Eternal bid me."

"Come now," Dist said, his voice dropping an octave. "We both know you don't need to check on me anymore. Yet I still hold my breath every time footsteps sound outside my door, hoping you've come to see me once again." He placed his hand on hers.

Meeka raised her reddened face to stare at Dist with big doe eyes. Nerris resisted the urge to laugh. Dist acted so gruff around him and Jhareth it was easy to forget how charming he could be with women. Dist raised Meeka to her feet by the hand and ran his other hand through her hair. As he drew her closer, Meeka cast a nervous glance at Nerris.

He cleared his throat. "Should I turn my back for the next hour or so?"

"My friend doesn't understand that our bond goes beyond mere physicality," Dist said to her. "I long for the day when I'm free of this place and we can be together in earnest."

"I... want that too," Meeka admitted. "Dist, you have been so kind, so good to me. But I cannot go against my Eternal if she wishes you to stay here."

"The time for choices has come," Dist told her. "I'm not asking for your help directly. I just need a few materials I don't have here. And I promise, when I am free, I will free you as well."

That made Nerris raise an eyebrow.

Meeka looked down. "Freedom. I have never known it."

"Help us, and you will."

Meeka shook her head. "Servitude is all I've ever known. I wouldn't know what to do on my own."

"Then come with us," Dist said. "We're aiming to put an end to all of this. The Cult of Eversor won't last long once we find the Exemplus. This war, the cult, Qabala's regime, all of it will go away whether you come or not. And once it all ends, what will be left?" He dramatically placed a hand on her shoulder. "Only us, Meeka. Only us."

Dist leaned down and kissed her, and Meeka surprised Nerris again with the fervency with which she returned that kiss. After a long few moments, their lips parted.

"I will get what you need," Meeka said breathlessly.

Dist nodded. "Thank you. I should be able to gather enough sulfur from this cell, but I'll need charcoal and saltpeter. There should be plenty of charcoal at hand in the kitchens."

"And saltpeter?"

"It's used to preserve food. Look to those who man the palace stores. Oh, and I'll need some paper to make fuses."

After she left, Nerris confronted his friend. "Are we adding the emancipation of slaves to our plan as well?"

"I had to say something," Dist said. He sighed. "Meeka has been very good to me, Nerris. I was in such pain before she came to tend to me. I know it won't be possible to save her, and I hate using her like this. But who better to help us get the medallion and Noruken than someone so close to Qabala?"

Nerris shuddered to think what might happen if Qabala found out about Meeka's aid. She was fond of the slave. He did not think she would actually kill her, but he was coming to realize Qabala was not the woman he thought he knew. Yet they had little choice. Just as they were likely to get a good many prisoners killed if they incited a riot, it was the only way for them to get out of Palehorse. That did not make him feel any less guilty, though.

He looked at Dist and could tell his friend felt the same way. No words were necessary between them. Dist knew he had lied to a girl he cared very much about, but his eyes were fire. He could almost hear Dist's intentions as he thought about the prospect of freeing Meeka.

_"Someday. Someday."_

# Chapter Thirty-Three

LEN-AHL SNEEZED AND wrapped her itchy blanket tighter around her body. She thought she might be used to the cold after so long deep in the damp dungeons, but brought herself up short. With no sunlight, she had no way of knowing how long she had been here. Had it been a week since she had been thrust into the darkness? Two?

She had always been prone to the sniffles, ever since she was a child. Whether swimming in the stream behind her home or playing in the snow, sooner or later her nose would turn red and clog up as if she had stuffed dried mud into her nostrils. Her mother had always been there with a cup of tea at the ready, before Len-Ahl could even tell her she was sick.

She shivered. No such luck down here, and she found herself thinking twice when offered something to drink in any case. Lately it seemed she could not get warm, no matter how many blankets she wrapped herself in or how close she got to the torch on her wall.

She heard footsteps in the corridor outside, as well as the jingling of keys. At first she thought it to be the gaoler, who had brought a freshly lit torch ever since her conversation with Nerris and the man called Rade. Her heart leapt when she realized it was not one, but many sets of footsteps. Had Nerris come for her at last?

A key turned in the lock, and her door creaked open. She stood and smiled, until she saw her visitors. Queen Qabala's face glowed in the waning torchlight, and behind her was one of the men in the elaborate armor, the big one who had captured them on the road. Len-Ahl gasped and fell back.

Qabala smiled, but there was no good nature behind it. "Did you expect someone different?" she asked. "Nerris, perhaps?"

Len-Ahl swallowed hard as she took in the malevolent stare of the one the Yagols called Aeterna. In place of the robe she had worn the day Len-Ahl had been brought before her, Qabala wore the clothes of the warrior she had been. Leather riding pants, leather cuirass, and a blade strapped to her side. Qabala also wore the golden medallion around her neck, the one she and the Thrillseekers had found in Jinn's cave.

Qabala followed her gaze and held up the medallion to glance at it herself. "It's very pretty," she said. "Pretty things have their uses, but I'm more interested in what is below the surface. For example, these etchings on the medallion's face. I am quite sure they lead the way to the Exemplus, if only I could understand them. It is frustrating to have what I want so close, yet so far away."

"What do you want from me?" Len-Ahl managed to say, though she knew the answer.

Qabala let the medallion drop. "You are half-faery. You would not be on this journey if you did not understand their language. You will tell me what they say."

"I do not know what the words say," Len-Ahl lied.

Qabala sighed. "I am so weary of waiting. Waiting for Nerris to come around. Waiting for this war to end. Waiting for the power I need. You may not believe this, girl, but I have no wish to harm you. Not because I hold you in any kind of regard, but because Nerris would never forgive me. But I will, if you don't tell me what I want to know. Once I have the Exemplus, I can extract forgiveness from Nerris's heart." She leaned down until her face was level with Len-Ahl's. "You think you've won, don't bother to deny it. You think you've stolen him from me. I've heard of you, half-faery. Your emergence into the world has upset the Cult of Eversor a great deal, and they have been keeping a close eye on you ever since you and Nerris left Faerlin. I know about your talent with music, and it's become clear to me that you've somehow managed to ensorcell Nerris with one of your spells. But it ends today. Nerris and I will find the Exemplus, because you're going to tell me what these runes say. Do that, and you can return to your home, provided you never come within sight of Nerris Palada again."

Len-Ahl looked Qabala full in the face, her eyes flashing. The supreme arrogance of this woman had finally gotten to her, and she put all her rage and frustration into her next four words. "Rot in hell, Qabala."

She realized her tone eerily mimicked Dist's whenever he was angry, but supposed that was what came of associating with the Thrillseekers for an extended time. Qabala, however, was not amused. She glared at Len-Ahl in silence for a few moments before her hand lashed out. Her knuckles caught Len-Ahl right in the lip, and she struck her head against the stone wall as she flinched away from the blow. Len-Ahl fell to the floor of her cell, tears welling up in her eyes. Pain lanced through her head as she tasted her own blood.

Qabala stood, looking down on her with disdain. She nodded to the man behind her. "Falares."

The large man moved forward and yanked Len-Ahl up by the hair. She cried out as she was dragged to her feet and pulled out of her cell. There were several guards and gaolers in the corridor. Falares thrust her into two of them, who bound her arms behind her back with a leather cord. Falares shoved her forward and told her to walk, forcing Len-Ahl to follow behind Qabala as she led the procession down the dungeon corridor.

Their general direction was up, and the gaoler unlocked several barred doors on the way, gates separating the different blocks of the dungeon. After a few were opened, Falares shoved Len-Ahl into a well-lit corridor. Qabala stopped short in front of a cell and pointed to the barred wooden door. "Here?"

The gaoler nodded. "Yes, my Eternal."

"What is he doing in here?" Qabala demanded. "I put him in one of the dankest cells myself. Why was he moved here, of all places?"

The gaoler shrugged. "The order had your seal on it, my Eternal."

Qabala grunted. "Open it."

The gaoler fumbled with his keys before selecting one, and unlocked the door. He pulled it open, and Len-Ahl peered inside. Dist and Nerris were sitting side by side against the opposite wall. Sunlight, real sunlight, flooded in through a window, and straight into Len-Ahl's eyes. Through her squinting, she saw Nerris and Dist stand.

She moved forward, but Falares caught her by the hair on the back of her neck. "No," he said, as if scolding a pet.

Nerris caught sight of Len-Ahl and rushed forward, but the guards in front of Qabala drew their sabers and leveled them at his chest, forcing him to stop.

His eyes went to Qabala. "What is the meaning of this?" he said.

"I thought you might want one last look at your beloved," Qabala said. "She has chosen not to help us, Nerris, so I must force the information I need from her. I don't expect her to survive the questioning."

Nerris's face turned red and curled in rage. "You wouldn't!"

Qabala's jade eyes flashed. "Oh, wouldn't I? This didn't have to get complicated, Nerris. I didn't ask for the deceptions you tried to pull, but for every action there are consequences. Perhaps it's for the best. Once this girl is gone, we can be together again."

"Never," Nerris said through clenched teeth.

"That is such an irrelevant word," Qabala said. "I've spent my whole life proving it doesn't exist. My foster father told me I would never be allowed to leave his home. I was told a woman would never be allowed into the university at Lhan Del, and later that I would never rule Yagolhan. So I'm sure you can see how your vehemence fails to impress me, Nerris Palada. After all, Dume Valez had some very interesting stories about you. One look at me and you forgot all about your beloved Ketsuya, did you not?"

Nerris's foot lashed out, kicking the guards' sabers out of position. He lunged for Qabala, but a few more guards rushed in to restrain him. Dist and Falares joined the fray as well, and a sort of grotesque wrestling match broke out in the threshold of Nerris's cell. After a few moments, the guards threw him back and Falares cracked Dist across the skull with his fist, flooring him. They shut the door, but she could still hear Nerris and Dist cursing on the other side.

"Enough of this," Qabala hissed. She shoved Len-Ahl back into Falares's arms and turned to the gaoler. "The guards will stay with you," she said. "I want Nerris moved back to his original cell. It is too dangerous for the Thrillseekers to be housed together. Falares, bring the girl with me. We're taking her to the Fury Pit."

Falares laughed. "Yes, my Eternal."

Len-Ahl once again found herself being forced down the dungeon corridors, but they did not go back the way they came. Qabala led them to a less populated part of the dungeon, where the stones were not as well kept. Many of them were cracked, and dirt and subterranean plants had sprung up through them.

Down and down they went, until there was barely enough torchlight to see. They stopped in front of a rickety door, one not even adequate to bar entry to an old shack. Qabala took a key from one of her pockets and turned it into the lock. The odor which wafted out made Len-Ahl retch. She had smelled burnt and rotten meat before, but something about this place made it even worse.

Falares marched her inside, and lit the sconces around the room. Len-Ahl glanced around. Perhaps a dozen small cells lined the walls, each with its own rusty portcullis in lieu of a door. They were all raised, held in place by a chain and windlass. Tarps covered many of the room's furnishings, but the ones she could see made Len-Ahl gasp in horror. A furnace dominated one corner of the room, and in front of it was a bed of coals with an iron chair in the center. Spikes protruded from the armrests, and Len-Ahl realized the burnt meat she smelled was human flesh.

"Welcome to the Fury Pit," Qabala said. "This is where King Lahnen put many of my people to the question, before Nerris stuck his blade in him." Qabala hefted the hilt of her own blade, and for the first time Len-Ahl noticed she carried Nerris's sword, the katana called Noruken.

"Now you put it to use," Len-Ahl said. "You are no better, Qabala."

"Again with that tired argument," Qabala said. "You sound like Nerris. You have had influence on each other, haven't you? Truthfully, this is the first time I've set foot in this chamber since taking this city." She gestured to the iron chair. "But don't worry about being roasted alive. Once you start a fire, it's very hard to control it, and I plan on this lasting all day. Besides, I want you to feel this pain by my own hand."

She pointed to a covered rectangular surface nearby, and Falares removed the tarp. Len-Ahl would have thought it an ordinary table, but for the rusted shackles at either end. Falares leaned over and took hold of a circular handle. As he turned it, the table rose vertically with a series of grating clicks. When he judged it high enough, he released the handle and forced Len-Ahl flat against it. He reached to the top of the table for the shackles and clamped them around her wrists.

Len-Ahl looked back at Qabala, who was inspecting some wicked-looking instruments displayed on the wall. She bit back the defiant remark on her lips when she saw one of the hooks still held something black and shriveled attached to it. She shuddered and retched again.

Qabala regarded her with amusement as she selected an instrument. She shoved it into Len-Ahl's face. It was a short, many-tailed whip. She had seen something like it on _The Sea Tart_ , and Captain Jorga had explained it was used to discipline unruly crew members. The way this one gleamed, however, there was something different about it, more sinister.

"Do you know what this is?" Qabala asked her. "It's a variation of a cat-whip, called a knovim. Cat whips are painful, but hardly to the extent I require at the moment. In the annals of history, some twisted soul decided to graft little blades on each tail of the whip. They are sharp, and very painful by themselves." There was a whoosh and a cracking noise as Qabala whipped the table beside Len-Ahl's head, leaving deep indentations in the old wood. "Together, they are near unbearable," she said.

Len-Ahl closed her eyes. "Angelica, protect me," she whispered. The defiance she had felt was fading, but one thought remained in her mind. She would not... could not... give Qabala the words on the medallion.

Qabala caught her jaw in her hand and squeezed, forcing her eyes open. "One last chance," she said. "Go home, and let your betters fix this world."

Len-Ahl squeezed her eyes shut again. She could not break. Even if it meant her death. Even if it meant never setting eyes on Nerris again.

Qabala released her face and responded to her silence. "I thought as much. Like it or not, you will talk. You may not believe me, Len-Ahl, but part of me is going to hate this. You and I are much the same."

Len-Ahl opened her eyes in surprise. That was the first time Qabala had ever addressed her by her name. Before she could contemplate what the Aeterna meant, Falares stepped behind her and ripped at her ragged dress. The tattered fabric tore like paper, and Falares soon had it off, exposing her nude figure to both the Dume-General and the Yagol queen.

Her hands instinctively moved to cover herself, but the shackles were taut and provided next to no movement. She felt the tears in her eyes, but before she could even cry, she heard another whoosh and pain across her back like she had never experienced before. A piercing scream escaped her lips as the tiny blades on the knovim were ripped from the flesh of her back.

Again, Qabala cracked the knovim, and again Len-Ahl screamed. She emitted choked sobs as all she could think about was the searing pain echoing through her body. Blood trickled down her back in unison with the tears streaming down her cheeks. Qabala lashed her a third time, but Len-Ahl had no wind left to scream. The sound which escaped her was more of an animalistic moan as she felt pieces of her flesh leave her body.

The fourth lash made her flinch away, straining against her bonds. At the fifth, her legs gave out, and she hung from the vertical table by her shackled wrists. She clenched her teeth as she sensed Qabala raising the knovim again. The anticipation was almost worse than the pain itself, but the blow did not come.

"Tell me what the medallion says," Qabala said. "I want to know the next step on the road to Exemplus. The pain ends when you tell me."

It would be so easy. Len-Ahl wanted nothing more in the world than for the pain to stop, but two images flashed into her mind. One was her mother, beautiful and stoic. She could not betray the secrets her mother had entrusted to her. She saw Nerris's face as well, and knew no matter what, she had to be brave. Be brave like a Thrillseeker. She remained silent, but for her whimpering at the freely flowing blood cascading down her thighs and buttocks. Even though her legs shook from the pain, she found her feet and stood up, offering her back to Qabala once again.

"Very well," Qabala said. "You are not the only one in the world who can read faery runes. I will tell Nerris you died bravely. Not that it matters in a world such as this."

The lashing began again, much fiercer and faster this time. Len-Ahl's head swam with pain as she sobbed and screamed. Her legs soon gave out again, and colored spots danced before her eyes.

As much as she could, Len-Ahl kept her thoughts on Nerris. She wanted to apologize for everything she had put him through, and feel the touch of his hands one more time. A commotion sounded behind her, causing Qabala to let up with the knovim. Len-Ahl tried to raise her head, but her strength finally failed her and she slumped forward. Her mind went blank as consciousness abandoned her.

# Chapter Thirty-Four

NERRIS AND DIST crashed to the dirt as their cell door clanged shut in front of them. Nerris swore out loud, calling Qabala any manner of unsavory name he could think of, but her footsteps soon dimmed. His head swam as he contemplated what to do. Len-Ahl was weakened. Even if he had not seen it in the gauntness of her body, he knew what extended stays in dungeons could do, especially to someone unused to foul treatment. Len-Ahl would not last long in King Lahnen's torture chamber. In fact, there was a good chance she would not survive at all.

He was vaguely aware of Dist swearing alongside him, but as Nerris let his mind work he clamped down on his friend's mouth. "Not a sound," he told Dist. "Remember what we did in the dungeon at Lake Oro?"

Dist shoved his hand away. "You want me to pretend I'm knocked out?"

"Like when we were caught by King Andoren's guards."

"Nerris, that didn't even work the first time!"

Nerris motioned for him to be quiet as he heard the gaoler rattling his keys outside. Dist sighed and lay on the floor, maneuvering into a tactically sound position and shutting his eyes. Nerris got to his feet as the door opened and two of Qabala's guards entered the cell. They barely inspected Dist's limp body before leveling their spears at Nerris's chest. He spread his hands.

"Come with us," one of them growled.

The other guard moved behind Nerris. Unfortunately, he wandered in reach of Dist. One foot shot up to connect with the guard's groin. The man cried out, dropping his spear. Nerris wasted no time in darting around the side of the other guard and snatching the spear out of his hands. In one motion, Nerris spun behind the sentry and drove into him with his shoulder. He caught the man off balance, and he tumbled into his comrade, sending them both to the floor.

Nerris drove the spear into the guard's back as Dist raced to his feet and caught the gaoler before he could flee, throwing him against the corridor wall. The guard on the bottom of the pile scrambled for his saber, but Nerris moved faster. He drove his boot into the man's throat, and the guard gasped and choked. Nerris took the saber and finished him. He drew the other guard's blade and rushed into the corridor, where Dist still had the gaoler pinned against the wall.

"Keys," Nerris said. "Now!"

The gaoler fumbled for his keys, which were attached to an iron ring, gibbering in fear the entire time. "You're going to show us which keys go to which doors," Dist said. He pointed to Jhareth's cell. "Starting with this one."

Two more guards entered the corridor and took in what was happening. With a shout, they drew their sabers as the gaoler unlocked the door. It swung open, and Jhareth flew past them with agility which even startled Nerris. He danced out of the way of an arcing slash and brought his foot up, kicking the man in the helm before he could recover.

The other guard swung at him, but Nerris had taken point by then. He blocked the swipe with one saber and slashed the man's throat with the other. Blood flew, and the guard collapsed on top of his unconscious companion.

"So, is our riot still on?" Jhareth asked.

"We'll need the distraction now more than ever," Nerris said. "And you'll need the run of the Aeternica to secure some transportation."

"I take it there's a plan somewhere in there?" Surnal's voice said.

Nerris turned around and got his first look at the Nateus of the Earth Clerics. He was middle-aged and tall, with shaggy brown hair and the bedraggled appearance of a heavyset man who had lost a lot of weight in a very short time. Scars and bruises marred his face, and he had bags under his eyes.

"Nateus Surnal," Nerris said, "you said there were men waiting for you in the forest to the south. Are you positive about that?"

Surnal nodded. "I would stake my life on it."

"You're going to have to." Nerris turned to Jhareth. "Take Surnal and find a cart for us. If Qabala hurts Len-Ahl, she won't be able to ride a horse. Bring the gaoler and unlock as many cells as you can along the way. Meet us at the stables."

"How are we getting out of the Aeternica?" Jhareth asked.

"It's daylight, and the gate should be open," Nerris said. "If the castle guards are called down here to quell the riot, we should be able to bust through."

"Then what?"

"Then we get out of the city and run like hell. Just like our plan before."

Jhareth rolled his eyes. "I always thought running was what you did when a plan failed."

Nerris smiled. "Dist, with me."

He tossed a saber to his blond friend, and Dist caught it by the hilt. "What about the medallion?"

"Qabala was wearing it," Nerris said. "She has my sword too. When we get to the Fury Pit, let me handle her."

"I thought you said she couldn't be killed."

"I'll think of something."

Dist grunted, taking a few practice swipes with his blade, and rubbed at his temple. "Just as well. I want that big bastard anyway."

Jhareth helped himself to the guards' daggers and took custody of the gaoler from Dist. At that, the two groups went their separate ways. Jhareth and Surnal took a corridor to the right, toward the blocks where most of the prisoners were kept. Nerris and Dist's path went straight ahead, down into the depths of the earth.

"Do you know where you're going?" Dist asked.

"The last time I enjoyed Qabala's hospitality my cell was down this way," Nerris responded.

They killed any guards they came across, and Nerris found himself having to adjust from the blade he was used to. The saber was heavier, and made for use with one hand. Dist cut through his foes with brutal efficiency, and even impressed Nerris. Dist did not often use a blade, but he obviously kept in practice.

A chilling scream pierced the dank air, and Nerris's blood froze. It was Len-Ahl he heard, and he raced ahead, barely aware of Dist keeping up behind him. This part of the dungeon more resembled a cave, with organic surroundings and sparse light. The screaming continued, and each one tore at Nerris's heart. They finally came to a broken-down door, and he could hear Len-Ahl's crying and Qabala's shouting clear as day on the other side. Nerris's muscles tightened in rage.

Dist put a hand on his shoulder. "Let's go together."

Nerris nodded and took a deep breath. "Kick that door in, Dist."

Dist grinned and rushed forward. The old wood snapped under the weight of his boot, clearing the threshold of any barrier. As Nerris rushed in, he heard Falares swear and draw his sword from the far side of the room. Qabala whipped around, her cloak whirling in the torchlight. She held a bloody knovim in her hand, and her eyes widened when she saw Nerris.

He looked past her and saw Len-Ahl shackled to an upright table, her back to him. Blood ran in rivulets down her nude body, which hung limp from her bonds. Nerris blinked back tears at the sight, and brandished his saber at Qabala as she dropped the knovim and drew a gleaming, curved sword. Nerris recognized it. She held Noruken.

Dist sprinted forward with a roar, and Falares barely got his blade up in time to meet him. As the two warriors disappeared from his line of sight, Nerris turned his focus to his former lover. "It's over, Qabala," he said. "What you have done here makes you dead to me. Len-Ahl never hurt anyone."

"She stole you from me," Qabala said. "You think that didn't hurt, Nerris? You have no idea. You have _no_ idea."

Nerris choked back his rage and raised his blade. "Shut up and fight."

"If that is what we have come to," Qabala said. "So be it."

She unleashed a blistering combination of strikes, giving Nerris little time to react. He brought his blade up to parry her strokes, and they danced the deadly dance across the length of the Fury Pit. The chorus of scraping metal added an angry harmony to Dist and Falares's duel. Though he had been a part of her army, Nerris had never had the opportunity to see Qabala fight before. Her technique was superb, but her strikes clumsy. No doubt this was due to the blade she held. A katana was a two-handed weapon, but she used it like the saber she normally favored.

Nerris countered with some combinations of his own, and realized the absurdity of this fight. Qabala was holding back; despite everything that had happened, she had no intention of killing him, and Nerris was incapable of killing her. Still their blades clashed, the deadly dance seeming to grow a mind of its own.

He chanced a glance at Dist and Falares and was reminded of a cat toying with a mouse, except the mouse was holding his own. Dist realized he had no armor while Falares was garbed in the heavy plate of a Dume-General. He used his agility to dodge Falares's strokes, striking whenever he thought he found a gap. However, Falares's armor was intricately wrought, leaving little exposed, so Dist resorted to lashing out at the big man's helmless face. For his part, Falares tried to maneuver Dist into a corner. If he could, one good strike from his huge sword would have split his friend up the middle. Dist was having none of it, though, and was content to keep sidling away from his foe to wear him out.

Qabala brought Noruken around and cleaved downward, but Nerris caught the blade with his saber. He stood there, locked in place with the woman who would be Aeterna. This could not go on forever. Qabala was stalling, and sooner or later guards would arrive and take them away again. As he pondered this, he missed Qabala's fist coming toward his jaw.

She struck with more strength than Nerris would have expected from such a lithe frame, and he reeled from the blow. He backed into the rusty chain holding up the portcullis of one of the holding cells. The rattling of that chain gave him an idea.

Qabala moved in, but instead of meeting her stroke, he ducked under it and came up behind her. Qabala wheeled around, but Nerris caught her arm. He punched the hilt of his saber into her wrist, causing her to cry out. Noruken tumbled to the ground, and Nerris elbowed her in the face before she could recover. Now Qabala reeled back, and Nerris charged forward and drove his shoulder into her with all his strength.

He hit her so hard she seemed to fly backward into the holding cell. She landed on the ground with a hard thud, and Nerris picked up Noruken. Instead of pinning Qabala to the floor with it like he wanted to, he turned and struck the rusted chain. It snapped after one strike, and the portcullis fell.

Qabala was not quite fast enough in standing, and the portcullis trapped her inside. She grabbed the bars and screamed in rage as Nerris moved in. He reached through the gate and took hold of Jinn's medallion. He yanked as hard as he could and easily broke the chain Qabala had used to fasten it around her neck.

"I think that concludes our business here," he said.

"Damn you, Nerris," Qabala said. "Even if you find the Elemental Stone, you can't stop the oncoming storm. Eversor will grant me the power to strike you down."

"Pray to your Tattered Man that we never meet again," Nerris said. "I don't know how, but the next time I'm in Palehorse, I will kill you."

He turned away from Qabala's shrieks and struck at the shackles holding Len-Ahl to the table. They parted as easily as the portcullis chain, and Len-Ahl slumped to the ground. Nerris took a tarp from a nearby torture device and wrapped her in it, pressing the fabric against her bleeding back.

He tucked Noruken into the back of his belt and cradled the frail girl in his arms. "Dist!"

Dist and Falares were still dueling, and Dist acknowledged him with a grunt. As Falares sent a side swipe which would have cut him in half, Dist dropped to the ground and rolled into his opponent's legs. Falares tripped over him and fell headlong to the ground. Dist was up in an instant, but Falares flailed like an overturned turtle. With all that heavy armor, it would take him a moment to regain his feet.

"Time to leave," Nerris said.

"How's Len-Ahl?" Dist asked.

Nerris glanced at the half-faery's face, which looked even more pale and wan than usual. He shook his head. "Not good."

"Surnal is an earth cleric," Dist said. "I'm sure his magic can help her."

"I hope you're right."

Nerris and Dist fled the Fury Pit. As they wound their way through the corridors, they heard the ruckus of men shouting and steel clashing as the dungeon prisoners fought their captors. Behind them, Qabala still shrieked epithets, though Nerris could not hear what she said. All he cared about was getting Len-Ahl to safety. Qabala had done this to her because of him, and if she did not get to a healer soon, she would die from blood loss.

They passed the main block of the dungeon on their way to the surface, and Nerris saw the prisoners had taken to the riot with gusto. Some of the scraggly dungeon denizens had gotten a hold of weapons, and were overwhelming the guards who had come down to put a stop to it. He thought he saw Lukas Kord in his gleaming armor leading the charge, but he could not be sure.

With Len-Ahl in his arms, Nerris wasn't much good for fighting, so Dist scouted ahead in order to avoid scuffles. When they reached the upper levels, they hid in the shadows as more guards and soldiers entered, rushing toward the riot. Dist had to slit a few throats, but they eventually left behind the damp rot of the dungeon.

They emerged into a courtyard, with blue sky above and fresh air all around. Nerris breathed it in gladly, but this was no time to celebrate. They had not won their freedom yet.

# Chapter Thirty-Five

THE EVENING SUN had nearly blinded Nerris when he stepped out from the corridor leading from the dungeon into the courtyard. Since he carried Len-Ahl's limp body in his arms, he could not shield his eyes and squinted as he looked around, trying to decide what direction to go.

Dist appeared to have made his decision already as he moved to the right, keeping under the shade of the balcony overlooking the cobblestones of the open area. Nerris ducked under the overhanging and followed his friend, hoping he knew what he was doing. They circled around until they found an archway leading to the next section of the Aeternica.

Dist looked both ways before stepping out onto the path which led back toward the royal chambers. "All clear," he announced.

No sooner did Nerris step out to join his friend than several arrows whistled through the air and bounced off the wall next to them. Dist recoiled, and he and Nerris ducked back behind the archway as the air came alive with the shouts of men.

Nerris glared at his friend. "All clear," he muttered under his breath.

"Did they find us already?" Dist asked, peering around the threshold.

"Most likely they were sent to help quell the riot," Nerris said. "I don't think they're looking for us in particular. Follow me. I know the layout better than you do."

Nerris moved to the right, trying to watch for guards while desperately listening for any signs of life from Len-Ahl. She was alive; he knew that much. He could hear the soft hiss of her breath, but if he didn't get her to Surnal soon, he knew she would not make it. The tarp he wrapped her in did little to stop the blood. He could feel it continue to seep through to his arms.

He led Dist up a stairway toward a parapet. Once at the top, he changed directions, heading south this time. They stayed low, running in a half crouch and using the crenellations for cover from any more arrows. They made their way toward the front gate. Given that they did not want to attract attention, Nerris cursed himself for not telling Jhareth to meet them at the secondary gate at the east part of the compound. Nerris had entered it the night he had killed King Lahnen, and it was not likely to be under heavy guard. In his haste, he had made plans to leave through the most obvious location.

Their path on the parapet took them all the way to the bailey, putting them in sight of the front gate. Before he could look for Jhareth, however, Dist's cursing distracted him. Wrenching his head around, Nerris saw five guards coming at them from an adjacent stairway. Dist rushed forward to meet them with his saber as Nerris carefully propped Len-Ahl against the stones. He drew Noruken out of his belt and went to Dist's aid.

He faked a cut at the first man to reach him, only to change directions and slash him across the throat as he moved his blade to parry. As Dist dispatched another guard, Nerris block a stroke from a third, allowing Dist to hamstring him with a slash of his own. The two remaining guards hung back, realizing now who they were facing. They shared an uneasy glance between them as Nerris stalked forward, and began to back away.

"You might have more luck with the other prisoners," Nerris suggested.

The two men fled, grateful for the excuse. Nerris picked Len-Ahl up and swore as the sentries on the wall shouted. He and Dist ducked to avoid more arrows, and Dist looked over to the stair leading down to the bailey. Nerris followed his gaze and saw an entire detachment of guards rushing toward them, sabers at the ready.

"Go back," Nerris said. "There's another way to the ground if we go right and circle back around."

Dist nodded and took off. Before Nerris could follow him, he heard another shout from below, followed by the protesting snorts of horses. "Nerris!"

Nerris looked down and saw Jhareth in the driver's seat of a cart pulled by two horses. Surnal rode in the back amongst an enormous pile of hay. "Dist, wait!" he called. "It's Jhareth!"

Dist came back as the guards reached the top of the stair. "Jump!" Surnal shouted.

Dist vaulted over the merlons and landed dead center in the cart bed. Nerris followed and jumped as carefully as he could, trying to minimize the impact of landing for Len-Ahl's sake. Dist and Surnal caught his arms as he landed in the cart, bracing him so he did not fall.

"I found you a bow," Jhareth told Dist. "It's somewhere back there."

Dist dug through the hay, unearthing a short bow and quiver as Jhareth snapped the reins. Their mounts took off for the gate, but the guards were wise to them. They began to lower the portcullis, but Dist nocked an arrow and drew back on the bowstring. It twanged as he released, and the man operating the winch keeled over as he suddenly sprouted feathers.

Jhareth whooped with joy as their cart approached the gate. Dist got another guard on the wall with an arrow, and they were through, careening down the streets of Palehorse. Arrows hit the ground around them and one even embedded itself in one of the cart's wooden posts, but they soon passed out of the sentries' range.

"Slow down," Nerris told Jhareth. "Let's not give the City Watch reason to come after us too."

Jhareth grunted in assent and pulled back on the reins. Finally, Nerris handed Len-Ahl off to Surnal. "What happened?" the Nateus asked.

"Qabala took a knovim to her," Nerris said. Now that they were out of immediate danger, he had a moment to fully contemplate what had befallen this innocent girl, and he had difficulty keeping his voice from cracking. "She's lost a lot of blood, Surnal. Can you help her?"

"Without my staff and my herbs and roots, I can only do so much," he said. "Much of my magic depends on materials from the earth, just as Len-Ahl's music depends on the wind. I promise you, I'll do everything I can."

Nerris nodded, too choked up to speak. They lay Len-Ahl on her stomach as Dist pitched some of the hay over the side to give them more room.

"Where did you get this thing?" Dist asked Jhareth.

"The stables," Jhareth said. "It's lucky you showed up when you did. The entire palace guard was heading toward the dungeon. A few more minutes and you would never have gotten out." He looked back at them. "Did you get the medallion?"

Nerris took Jinn's medallion out of his tunic and showed Jhareth before putting it away again. "Now what?"

"We head southwest toward Lesta," Surnal said. "Hopefully I can gather materials in the forest to ease Len-Ahl's suffering and stop her bleeding, but she won't be able to truly heal until we find a safe haven."

They wound their way through Palehorse, keeping off the main roads. Surnal unwrapped Len-Ahl's bleeding back and put his hands over her, muttering in the Xenean language as they cantered along. His hands glowed, and her bleeding seemed to slow, though it was hard to tell. Judging by the way Surnal sweated as he worked, even doing that much cost him a great deal of effort without his instruments.

Jhareth came to a halt as they entered the square inside the south gate. As they assessed the situation, Nerris noted the city guard was checking any person or cart which wished to go through.

"Looks like word from the palace has reached the city guard after all," Dist said.

"Hang onto something," Jhareth said.

"What are you—"

Jhareth snapped the reins and their mounts charged ahead, emitting shrill neighs. Dist fell to the floor of the cart bed as Nerris wrapped his arm around one of the posts. Even with all the jostling, he still managed to see the surprised faces of the guards as their cart came bearing down on them.

A man with a pack mule who had been in the middle of his inspection dove out of the way as they tore through the gate. The guards didn't even have a chance to order the portcullis lowered this time. As they tore down the southwest road, more arrows rained down around them, getting stuck on their cart.

"Here we go again," Dist muttered as he ducked down.

"I hope these horses are fast," Nerris said. "After that stunt, the sabres are going to be on us in minutes."

Jhareth grinned back at him. "You know I have an eye for good horses, Nerris. How's Len-Ahl doing?"

Surnal sighed. "I think I can stop the bleeding once I have the proper materials, but she has already lost so much. I'll be honest, Nerris, if we can't stanch the lacerations and get her to a more comfortable spot soon, Len-Ahl is going to die."

"But you can heal her, right?" Nerris asked.

"Absolutely, though she will be bedridden for a while."

Nerris breathed a sigh of relief and looked around. To the west, mountains rose in the horizon, hazy and beautiful. To the south, Nerris could see the forest Surnal had been referring to. Once they were within the trees, only the road would be open to them while they were in this cart, and with Len-Ahl incapacitated, they had no choice but to stay there.

Dist had apparently had the same thought. "How soon until your friends can find us?" he asked Surnal.

"It's hard to tell," he said. "I don't know how far away they are, and I have no way to signal them."

"We can't count on their help," Nerris said. "If soldiers come after us, we'll have to defend ourselves."

They entered the forest, and their path became even more narrow. The road cut straight through a vast ravine, making evasion impossible while in their cart. Surnal tore pieces of his sleeve away, using them to wipe the blood from Len-Ahl's back so he could see the source cuts better. Jhareth slowed down to rest the horses, but their respite was short lived.

A short time after entering the ravine, two horsemen galloped into view at their rear. Upon spotting them, they drew their sabers with a shout of triumph.

Jhareth snapped the reins more frantically, picking up their speed. "Any chance of taking an alternate route?" he asked Surnal.

"The road is like this all the way to Lesta," he said. "All forests and mountains and ravines."

"Just keep driving," Dist told him. "Me and Nerris will handle these whoresons."

Nerris nodded and moved to the right side of the cart, while Dist took the left. The first sabre thundered up to Dist's side, his mount's hooves kicking up dirt. Before he could even reach them, Dist sent an arrow into his chest and the rider tumbled from his saddle with a surprised cry.

The second rider came up on Nerris, challenging him with his saber. Nerris twirled Noruken in response and their blades clashed. It felt good to have the katana in his hand again. He ducked a swipe from the rider, then blocked his wrist as he slashed back at him. Nerris turned and cut clean through the man's arm with Noruken. The rider cried out in terrible pain, looking upon his bloody stump. His horse slowed, and they soon left him behind.

"Only two?" Dist asked.

"Young men," Nerris said. "Overeager. Here come some more."

Five more riders rounded the corner they had just passed and closed the gap fast. Dist nocked another arrow, aimed, and loosed in one fluid motion. It caught his target in the shoulder and the man recoiled in response, losing his balance. He fell from the saddle right into the legs of the mount of the man next to him. The horse tripped and tumbled headlong to the ground, throwing its rider to a like fate.

"Nice shot," Nerris said.

"Actually, I was aiming for the horse," Dist said. "If someone could keep from hitting every bump in the road, I might be more accurate."

"Do you want to steer this thing?" Jhareth asked.

An arrow whistled past them, causing them all to shy away. "Watch it, one of them is an archer," Nerris said.

The horse archer hung back as Dist took aim at him. The other man sped up to reach Nerris, taking him by surprise. Nerris flinched back from the man's saber, but took a cut under his shirt. His torso warmed as blood seeped out, and Nerris turned his full focus to the rider. He did not even bother to block the man's next stroke and instead caught his arm and wrenched down on it. The rider dropped his saber with a cry and Nerris slammed Noruken's hilt into his face. Nerris shouldered into the man to send him careening off his mount and down a steep ledge, kicking up the brush in all directions.

"Remind me never to make you angry," Dist said, grabbing Nerris's tunic to keep him from going over the side. "Are you all right?"

"He only grazed me." Nerris put his hand to his chest, where blood seeped through his garments. "Think you can get that archer?"

"Of course."

Dist grabbed the quiver and stood. At that moment, the cart shuddered, sending everyone tumbling. The quiver flew from Dist's hand and landed on the road.

"Sorry," Jhareth called.

"You idiot!" Dist fumed.

"What do you want me to do? I can't dodge every rock on the road at this speed!"

The horse archer galloped alongside them, staying out of Nerris's reach. Instead, he went past him and rode parallel to Jhareth. He drew another arrow as Jhareth stood.

"Take the reins!" he shouted.

Nerris dove forward and managed to grab the reins as Jhareth launched himself at the rider. He landed in the saddle behind the startled archer, drawing a knife. He plunged it into the man's ribcage and shoved him from his horse. The nimble thief pushed off the horse's back and into the saddle, snapping the reins harshly. Once he caught up with them, Jhareth swung his leg over and stepped off into the driver's seat of the cart, taking the reins back from Nerris as if he had never left.

"No matter how many times I see you do that, it never ceases to amaze me," Nerris said.

"Thank you," Jhareth said. "I've been stuck in a dungeon so long I've forgotten how good it feels to have the ego fed."

They waited a few minutes, but no more riders appeared behind them. "Did we lose them?" Dist asked.

"I doubt it," Nerris said. "That was most likely a vanguard. If they're sending this many men, they know by now that it's us who escaped the city."

Dist looked back down the road, and his eyes went wide. "Get down!"

They hit the floor as a stream of arrows thunked into the cart. Surnal cried out, and Nerris saw a shaft sticking out of his leg. He moved to help the Nateus.

"It's all right," Surnal said, waving him off. "Help Dist."

Behind them, a detachment of horsemen were bearing down fast. Dist had resorted to pulling arrows out of the cart and shooting them back at their pursuers. However, these men were keeping a safe distance, and only one of Dist's missiles found a home.

Jhareth swore. "They saw what we did to the others and now they're going to wait for our horses to tire. They know we can't go anywhere."

Nerris grunted, looking at the rocky terrain around them. "We're going to have to make a stand."

"If we do that, we're dead," Dist said.

"That's not important right now," Nerris said. "What is important is that Len-Ahl survives and finds the Elemental Stone. The world depends on it."

Dist's look was stricken, but his nod was determined. "I'm with you."

"Surnal, if we give you some time can you keep Len-Ahl safe until your people find you?"

"I can try," Surnal said, glancing at the arrow in his leg. "What about you, Nerris?"

Nerris shrugged. "I'm just the Catalyst. I swore to protect Len-Ahl, and that's all I can do now. Our chances for success are small, I know, but we don't have a choice."

"There." Jhareth pointed to a small outcropping of rock and directed the horses toward it. The reins snapped relentlessly as he gathered speed and left Qabala's sabres behind. They came to a stop at a sheer rock face, and Jhareth drew two knives.

"I had to leave my favorite knives at the palace," he said. "I took these off of some guards. They're not the best steel, but they're yours, Nerris. I'm with you."

Nerris put a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, my friend."

Surnal stumbled out of the cart and Dist helped place Len-Ahl in his arms. "What will you do?"

"I may not have the instruments of my magic, but I know a few tricks," Surnal said. "I am the Nateus of the Earth Clerics, you know."

"You need medical attention yourself as soon as possible," Nerris said. He took Jinn's medallion from his tunic and put it inside of Surnal's own tattered garb.

Surnal nodded. "We'll hide until it's over. After that, I'll have to rely on my own savvy to get me to Lesta."

He limped to the rock face, still holding Len-Ahl. The Nateus closed his eyes and began chanting in Xenean. The rocks around him rumbled and scraped together. After a few moments, they broke open, leaving just enough room for two people to hide within. Surnal stepped inside the fissure with Len-Ahl, and the rock closed in around him.

Jhareth whistled. "That's some trick."

Satisfied they were well hidden, Nerris turned back toward the road as the riders came within sight. Others had joined them, making the force perhaps two score. A man in full plate led them. Nerris recognized the armor of Dume Quin and held his breath. Perhaps there was hope yet.

Dume Quin's men formed up in front of them, and archers moved to the sides to prevent any attempt of escape. Nerris held up a hand and slowly approached his old comrade. "Quin!"

Quin put a hand up to stay his forces and lifted his visor. "Nerris. So it was you who escaped. I thought I was chasing stories until I saw what you did to my advance guard."

"Qabala is out of control," Nerris said. "Surely you can see that. It doesn't have to end like this. Len-Ahl is beyond her reach now."

Quin smiled. "No doubt she and that woodwitch are hiding somewhere. It's over, Nerris. Even if you three somehow manage to cut through all of us, more will come and we will find the girl. Give her up now and we will spare your lives."

"Why do they always say that?" Jhareth complained. "They know we know they're lying."

Nerris shook his head. "Qabala will fall, Quin. You're a reasonable man. You've seen how she behaves in her position."

"She behaves that way because you spurn her," Quin said. "Why, Nerris? Come back to her and help make this country great again."

"The rot began when she absorbed the Doom Rock," Nerris said. "You witnessed it, same as I. Yagolhan can only be great again when she and her Tattered Man are gone for good."

Quin shook his head. "Everything I am I owe to my Eternal. I will follow my orders."

Nerris let his breath out. Quin had always been stubborn, and he could see there was no turning him. He raised Noruken as Dist and Jhareth prepared for battle beside him.

Quin cast them a regretful glance. "So be it, then. You're a fine warrior, Nerris, one of the best I have ever witnessed. I hate to do this."

"I hate to be done," Nerris said. "Thrillseekers!" he called to his friends. "Battle on!"

Dist and Jhareth cried out and charged, with Nerris leading the way. The archers at the edge of Quin's force took aim, but some foreign arrows suddenly thunked into the ground next to them. Their horses shied away as more arrows sailed into the Dume-General's men. Some found their marks and the sabres shouted in surprise as their comrades were picked off.

Nerris, Dist and Jhareth stopped in their tracks as a torrent of arrows sailed over them to fall amongst the horsemen. Many fell with multiple shafts protruding from their hauberks.

Another force of men rushed out of the trees to the east. They were dressed in leather painted to look like the colors of the forest, and brandished swords and clubs. They fell into the group of riders, hacking and slashing at the startled horses. The sabres began to fight back, but Dume Quin was a practical man to the bone and saw they were outnumbered.

"Fall back!" he ordered as an arrow bounced off his plate.

After sharing a relieved look with Nerris, Quin shut his visor and wheeled his mount around, galloping back up the road. Many of his men followed him, while their rescuers cut down the few who remained.

Nerris looked at these men and estimated their force to be four times that of the Dume-General. One of the foresters approached Nerris, Dist and Jhareth. He was a thick-bodied man with short, brown hair, and held up one hand in a peace gesture.

"Well met, Nerris Palada," he said. Nerris lowered Noruken as Dist and Jhareth relaxed beside him.

"Are you Surnal's friends we've been hearing so much about?" Jhareth asked.

"That we are," the forester said. "I am Captain Kerin, officer of Prince Lahnel Y'Ghan, the true King of Yagolhan." He looked around. "Where is the Nateus?"

The rocks hiding Surnal and Len-Ahl opened once more, and Surnal emerged. "Kerin!"

"By Yala's sharp teat," the captain said, observing the prone and bloody Len-Ahl. "What have we here?"

"This is Len-Ahl," Surnal said. "The Stonechaser."

Kerin gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Captain Kerin, it is imperative we reach Lesta as soon as possible," Nerris said. "Len-Ahl's life hangs by a thread until Surnal can properly heal her."

Kerin nodded. "Of course. Surnal mentioned he would have the Stonechaser when he set up his capture, but I never imagined..." He shook his head and called for his attendant. He issued a few orders, and gestured to the Thrillseekers. "The hospitality of Prince Lahnel is offered to you, Thrillseekers. I set out with over fifty men to collect Surnal once he escaped, but those opposed to the rule of Qabala have swelled our ranks to over a hundred. My men will discourage any pursuit while you make your way to Lesta."

"Whew," Jhareth said, shaking his head. "I thought we were done for sure."

"We must leave quickly," Surnal said. "More men will no doubt be upon us once the Dume-General regroups."

"Right." Kerin cupped his hands. "Listen up! The battle we were sent to fight is upon us! Our only purpose is to keep this cart safe! I don't want anybody wearing the sash of a sabre to come within ten leagues of these five people! Any man who dies better get up and keep fighting, or I'll send you to Hell myself! Now move!"

Kerin's men saluted and melted back into the forest. "That should do it," he told them.

"Thank you, Captain," Nerris said.

Kerin shrugged. "Protecting the Stonechaser is paramount. I hope to rejoin you in Lesta soon, Nerris. I am sure you and his Highness have much to discuss." The attendant arrived with Kerin's horse, and he mounted up, galloping into the trees with his men.

# Chapter Thirty-Six

MEN IN ARMOR cowered and stepped over their own cloaks to get away from the seething Aeterna. Qabala had just learned of the Thrillseekers' escape from the commander of the City Watch, and thrown the officer across the room with strength unnatural to her lithe form. That would have been horrible enough, but her touch had also lit the man on fire.

The other guards in the great hall fidgeted at the commander's screams as their queen paced back and forth. No doubt they wanted to run, but were afraid to turn their backs. Qabala pondered how this could happen. She had taken great care to surround herself with the elite, and not only had Nerris gotten away, he had taken his friends, the Stonechaser, the woodwitch, and Jinn's medallion with him. Even now they were speeding toward Prince Lahnel's territory, where she could not reach them.

If Dume Yorne or Dume Valez had been here, things might have been different. Those men were born commanders, and adapted at a moment's notice. However, she had sent them to the southwest four days past, on the word that a force of Prince Lahnel's men were massing near Hesmuth. That left her with two Dume-Generals when ten hells had broken loose.

Falares had been in the Fury Pit with her, and proved useless in stopping Nerris. Dume Quin had been a bit more resourceful, and gathered some of the men under his direct command to pursue the Thrillseekers. However, he had left with too few and had not reported back yet. If you wanted to catch the Thrillseekers, you took an army, not a squad.

Dume Lukas had been killed in the riot, she learned. He had been knocked off his feet, and his helm removed. One of the prisoners proceeded to rip a rusted iron bar from one of the group cells and impale the former informant through the eye.

The human bonfire in front of her blazed on, though the commander's screams had stopped, replaced in the air with the stench of burning flesh and melting iron. The commander's body hissed and popped as it cooked, bringing nauseated looks to the faces of the men present. The flames of her fury were searing, it would seem.

The doors to the great hall opened, and a dusty-looking Dume Quin entered, helm tucked under his arm. He bowed to Qabala after noticing the burning commander to his right.

"Never mind that," Qabala said. "What have you to report, your Constancy?"

"We cornered the Thrillseekers, but were ambushed," Quin said. "The same foresters who have been harrowing our returning troops since we took the city. They overwhelmed my men and we were forced to retreat. I don't know how, but they knew the Stonechaser was coming. One of my wounded was left alive, and he confirmed this force works for Prince Lahnel. They were under the command of a Captain Kerin, and had been stationed there to collect the Nateus once he had acquired the Stonechaser and the Catalyst."

"Your sabres could not handle a small force of militiamen and commoners?"

"I was only able to rouse two score men on such short notice," Quin said. "Any longer and we would have lost the Thrillseekers to the forest. And Kerin's forces seem to have grown since they last attacked us."

Qabala had to turn away for a moment. This was all on that damned woodwitch. She should have realized last autumn that a Nateus would never allow himself to be caught so easily. He knew where Len-Ahl would be, and had positioned himself to receive her. When next she saw him, he would burn as well, but the fire would be hotter and he would live much longer to suffer it.

Falares took a tentative step forward. "My Eternal, what is your will?" he asked.

Qabala rubbed at her eyes. "My will, Falares? Could I but will it, I would will into existence an army of supporters that could keep five prisoners in the dungeon. I would will that my powers had been awakened before this incident so I could have prevented it myself. I would will that Nerris did not despise me so, that I did not concede to bestow generalship on lickspittles and incompetents, but most of all, it is my will that all of you get out of my way right now!"

Falares, Quin, and the guards parted as if she carried the plague. Qabala stormed from the great hall, where she had thought gathering her most important officers would help think of some solution to the situation, but had enraged her even more. She told herself if she wanted to salvage anything, obliterating her officers would not help.

The south courtyard still looked as if a tornado had rampaged through. Smashed stone and trampled bushes littered the cobblestone paths. The prisoners had gotten that far before the Aeternica's guards had converged on them in full force, driving them back and beating them down until they surrendered. Slaves were still cleaning up the blood as she passed by.

She arrived in her quarters and immediately took to the balcony, gazing down on her fair city, where the sun now dipped below the horizon and the brightest stars appeared in the violet sky. There was no denying it; the Thrillseekers had gotten one over on her. That was why she wanted them held in separate quarters. They were too dangerous to be allowed to plan and scheme. She had heard the stories; been intimately involved with one of them. Yet her network of incompetents could not even achieve that much.

Her anger had gotten the better of her. Her hatred for the girl Len-Ahl provoked them into action, and they had let loose every occupant of the dungeon to cover their escape. She had not been on hand to lead her men against the prisoners, for she had been trapped in a cell courtesy of Nerris Palada.

Once Nerris had left the Fury Pit, she seethed and raged for nearly a quarter of an hour. Falares had tried to help her once he made it to his feet, but Nerris had severed the chain which connected her cell door to the windlass, and the portcullis was too heavy for Falares to lift by himself.

At that point, all the anger and rage Qabala had felt since learning of the liaison between Nerris and Len-Ahl welded into a cold focus. She felt the Doom Rock stir within her, felt the power course through her body and let out a scream which almost gutted the Fury Pit's torches. The portcullis flew across the room and crashed to the floor, bent beyond recognition. Falares stared at her with a mixture of awe and fear on his face.

The riot had been quelled by the time she arrived, and what a cost that quarter of an hour had taken. Dume Lukas and many guards, killed. Important hostages were also dead, Lord Petaka Bosmick amongst them. Now his son had no reason to hold back his forces, and was free to join with Prince Lahnel.

She slumped on the balustrade. The power of the Doom Rock continued to course through her, and she knew she had achieved the unity she hoped for. But what use was it? She was alone now, and her chances of finding the Elemental Stone dashed.

_"That is a face I have not seen for quite some time,"_ said the voice of the Tattered Man. _"Not since you were a small child have I gazed upon a look of such hopelessness."_

Qabala gritted her teeth. "Leave me alone, Pale One. You are the last... person... I want to see right now." He was not a person, and she could not see him, but she hoped he would take the hint.

_"I have done nothing but..."_

"Exactly," Qabala said. "You did nothing while Nerris escaped. Where were you? Where was your cult?"

_"I recall you sent the Cult of Eversor from the city some weeks ago at the behest of Dume Yorne and your beloved Nerris. They cannot help you if they are not here."_

"They were getting out of hand," Qabala said. "Terror was never my intention when I took the throne."

_"Every ruler needs a bit of terror. If your people always see you on the street handing out food to starving children, they eventually see you as weak. Had I been allowed free reign, were I not confined by the sacrifices of Angelica, the Thrillseekers would have known true terror."_

"I know better than that," Qabala said. "You didn't interfere because you never liked the idea of me and Nerris together. Don't deny you wanted this."

_"He was an unwelcome distraction from your destiny."_

Qabala sighed. "I am tired of destiny, and prophecies and all that cryptic nonsense. Nerris was the only destiny I ever needed."

_"All he did was betray you."_

"He loved me."

_"Precisely. Love and betrayal are two sides of one of those coins you humans prize so much. You say you want the power to fix this world. To do that, you need to become one with the Fatexion, to use its power to make the world as you see fit."_

"Your point?"

_"I watched you struggle endlessly with the stone, your thoughts always returning to one man, his face foremost in your mind's eye. Tell me, without his betrayal, without the anger and hatred that came with it, do you think you would have ever awakened the way you did in that cell?"_

"You're saying anger and hatred are the children of power," Qabala said.

_"I see you are finally learning. You may realize your potential yet."_

"I thought I was to be the Stonechaser, the one who reunited the Fatexion and the Exemplus. If this girl finds the Elemental Stone—"

_"Your mastery of the Fatexion will destroy her, for one such as her can never focus power as you will."_

"Still, I cannot risk it," Qabala said. "The Stonechaser Prophecy must be broken."

_"Then I surmise a journey lies in front of you."_

"You mean follow them, and take the stone?" Qabala asked. "How? Wherever they go will be from the port of Lesta, and I cannot follow them there."

_"Your army cannot go there, but you can. Take whatever companions you deem necessary, but endeavor to keep your cortege small. Whoever has the desire can join the journey, but the Law of Eight must be upheld if you are to find the Exemplus."_

"Abandon my people? I am their leader, Pale One!"

_"Surely there are others who would command just as well in your absence."_

He was right, she realized. Dume Yorne or Dume Valez both made for brilliant generals. She would take Dume Yorne with her, though. In spite of his loyalty to Nerris, she felt a certain attachment to the old man, one which could prove important. But who else?

"Thank you, Pale One," she said. "We may be at odds at times, but you have always been there to afford me wise counsel. I shall do as you suggest. After all, I have no ties to Nerris anymore. I severed those for good when I nearly whipped that innocent girl of his to death."

_"If hatred is the child of power, gratitude is the scion of weakness,"_ the Tattered Man said. _"The emergence of Eversor is all the thanks I will require."_ At that, his presence was gone, though his words still echoed in her mind.

"You're welcome," Qabala muttered.

"My Eternal?"

Qabala whipped her head around. Meeka stood in the room behind her, half hidden by the curtains.

"Who were you speaking to?" the slave girl asked.

Qabala turned to face her. "No one. Meeka, send word to the grooms to prepare my horse. I'll also need a packhorse and supplies for a trip. Pots, pans, foodstuffs, shelters, and the like. Then get word to Falares and Quin that I need to see them. I mean to begin as soon as Yorne and Valez return from Hesmuth."

"Are you going somewhere, my Eternal?" Meeka asked.

Qabala nodded. "The most important journey I'll ever take. And you will attend me. How would you like to see the rest of Tormalia, Meeka?"

"If that is your will, my Eternal."

"It is," Qabala said. "You'll be happy to know your friend Nerris has fled me. We will be going after him and his friends, and they will all suffer dearly for what they have wrought." Meeka did well in covering up her gladness. The look she wore was stricken at the news of Nerris's escape. "How does that make you feel, Meeka, to know when I next meet Nerris, I will kill him? That you will be a party to it?"

Meeka's eyes became watery. "I... don't... he betrayed you, my Eternal. Spurned your love. Left us... you. I know what has to happen will come to pass."

Qabala nodded. "You may go."

Her slave practically fled the room, and Qabala stared out over Palehorse, a warm breeze blowing through her hair. Spring was giving way to summer, and she could tell this season would be a hot one. The entire world would heat up until it reached a boil, right at the moment she lay her hands on the Elemental Stone. With the help of Eversor, she would show the world a torrent the likes it had never seen. Only then, after the storm, could she finally make it right.

# Chapter Thirty-Seven

THE NIGHTMARES HAD returned. Visions of the past and what lay in store, alternate histories and possible futures, roiled in her mind like an angry storm. Every time she glimpsed the face of the man she loved and reached out to him, he dissolved back into the fog. In his place stood a young woman with cold, jade eyes. She reached for Len-Ahl with bloody hands, and the faermaid of the Great Oak Forest repulsed at her touch, only for the blood to fade away.

A black cloud enveloped her, and Len-Ahl struggled against the darkness. She saw the face of the Tattered Man and screamed for him to leave her alone, and his robes flared out, taking her to the next vision. In this one, she held a light green stone in her hand. Qabala stood across from her, a dark violet rock in hers. Between them lay an unmarked grave.

"You did this," the Aeterna accused her. "It didn't have to be this way, Len-Ahl."

She shook her head. "No, this is destiny. I cannot change it."

"But you can prevent it. You know how."

Qabala held the Doom Rock away from her, and a purple beam emitted from it, striking Len-Ahl's eyes. All sight and shape were lost, but the voices of everyone she knew seemed to be talking at once. She could not make out any one statement, but she understood all of them as they raged at her in a single, terrible voice.

When it seemed like she might go mad, a blinding light pierced her dreams, enveloping her, warming her. The light grew until it filled her vision and a calm settled over her. Something was different, and it took a few moments for Len-Ahl to realize what it was. She was awake.

Slowly, the light dimmed and her surroundings came into focus. The room was quiet and well-lit, sunlight pouring in through open windows. She lay on her stomach in a bed with fresh, white linens which smelled of flowers. Her head rested on a soft pillow, but the comfort she felt did not matter. Only the smiling man who sat in a chair next to her, holding her hand, his hazel eyes gazing into hers.

"Nerris," she said, her voice coming out small and croaky. She tried to rise and embrace him, but pain lanced through her body. She winced and dropped back to the bed.

"Stay still, Len-Ahl," Nerris said. "You're badly hurt."

Len-Ahl recalled those brutal few minutes in the Fury Pit, as Queen Qabala whipped the life from her body with a vile weapon of torture. However, she could remember nothing after that. It seemed like a distant nightmare now, though the pain she felt told her it had been a waking one.

"How can this be?" she asked. Her throat hurt when she spoke, and she dared not speak above a whisper. "Where are we?"

"The port of Lesta," Nerris said. "Guest quarters in Y'Ghan Palace to be exact, home of Prince Lahnel."

Many possibilities dance through Len-Ahl's mind. Had they escaped Qabala, or had the Aeterna conquered Lesta? Was this another dream to torture her even more with false hope? As she wondered, she gazed past Nerris and noticed others in the room. Dist and Jhareth stood behind Nerris, giving her glad smiles. Off to the side, an older man rose. He wore a brown robe and carried a wooden staff.

The unknown man cleared his throat. "Maybe I should explain what has happened."

"Certainly, Nateus," Nerris said. "I probably couldn't keep it all straight anyway." He gave Len-Ahl's hand a squeeze and stood.

The man called Nateus took his seat, but Len-Ahl did not know how this could be. Nateus was the title given to the leaders of those who gave their devotion to Angelica and her kings, humans who lived within the faery realm, each giving themselves to an order of one of the four physical elements. But those orders were all gone, were they not?

The balding man looked at her. "Len-Ahl, my name is Surnal. I am the Nateus of the Earth Clerics, or the woodwitches if you prefer."

Len-Ahl was dumbstruck. "That cannot be."

"I know most think us extinct," Surnal said, "but from what Nerris tells me, you possess abilities inherent to those who devote themselves to Paral. Windwitches, flamewitches, and waterwitches all remain in this world, but are scattered, orderless. In truth, the Earth Clerics were the last brotherhood to remain in Tormalia, until Qabala's rise to power. Now but few remain in all of Yagolhan. She has had most of us hunted and killed."

"Why would she do such a thing?" Len-Ahl asked.

Surnal shrugged. "Why does a tyrant abuse her power? There are rumors of an unsavory acquaintance from her childhood who happened to be a woodwitch, but I will not trouble you with sordid hearsay. Most likely it is because she has joined in arms with the Tattered Man, and he realized our order was a threat to him."

"You know of the Tattered Man?"

"I know many things," Surnal said. "I know you are the Stonechaser, and I know Nerris is the Catalyst. And I know of the journey you face, as well as the meaning of the runes on the medallion of Jinn you found. Can you read the Xenean language, Len-Ahl?"

"I can," she said. "I had not yet had the chance to think on the medallion's words before we were taken." She looked at Nerris. "I am so sorry for what I caused. I knew what would happen, and I led you into it. All this hardship his my fault."

Nerris shook his head. "Surnal explained it, Len-Ahl. You were following the prophecy and you could not have turned away if you tried."

"I too have had prophetic visions," Surnal said. "About seven months ago, an ecstasy came over me. I felt the presence of Queen Angelica, but she said not a word to me. I felt in my soul what I had to do. I allowed myself to be captured by Qabala's men, imprisoned and tortured, as you were."

"Why?"

"I knew by sacrificing my freedom I would meet the Stonechaser," he said. "It was my duty to help her find the Elemental Stone and erase the corruption of the Doom Rock. I rotted in the dungeons of the Aeternica so long I despaired of ever breathing fresh air again, but the Thrillseekers showed up and I knew I had done right. But I never could have suspected the condition you were in when we met."

"Then we escaped?"

"It wasn't easy," Nerris said. "If not for Surnal's friends, we would all be dead right now."

"I knew I was to meet you, but had no inkling of how to get you safely away," Surnal said, "so I prevailed on Prince Lahnel to lend me a contingent of men to cover our eventual escape. Luckily Nerris, Dist, and Jhareth took care of the rest."

"Thank you," Len-Ahl told all of them.

Nerris knelt beside her and held her hand again. "Len-Ahl, you almost left us. When I saw you hanging from that table, I thought you were dead. I never hated anyone at that moment the way I hated Qabala."

"He was quite good in defending your honor." Dist grinned at her. "You would have been proud of him."

Jhareth laughed. "And then some. I think he took down half of Qabala's sabres on our way out of the city. I took down a whole regiment myself, and drove the cart."

"Jhareth," Dist chided. "Don't spew your nonsense at her. She's confused enough as it is."

Nerris cast his friends an irritated glance before turning back to her. "I trapped Qabala in the Fury Pit, and Jhareth got us out of the city on a cart he stole. The sabres chased us down, and would have had us, but Surnal's friends were watching for him and intervened. They delayed the pursuit long enough for us to get away. It took us almost three weeks to make our way through the mountain highroad to get here. That's the real version of it."

"Killjoy," Jhareth muttered.

"I wish I could remember," Len-Ahl said. "Was I asleep the entire time?"

"I kept you asleep as we made our journey here," Surnal said. "The rough roads and the jostling of our cart would have caused you further pain. With Jhareth's help I was able to scout the wilderness for the plants I needed to work my magic. The salve I made stopped your bleeding, but you had already lost so much we feared for you. But once we made it here and you were in restful conditions, you came out of danger. You should be fully recovered in a few weeks, though I could do little to erase the scars on your back. Qabala had the power of the Doom Rock behind her hand. I'm afraid you will carry them for the rest of your life."

"That is all right, Nateus," she said. "I would have borne any disfigurement to see us all safe again."

She smiled at Nerris, and he returned that smile. The worry had disappeared from his face, replaced with gladness.

Jhareth raised an eyebrow. "I think we should let these two have a few minutes alone."

Dist nodded and put a hand on Surnal's shoulder. "Let's go, Nateus."

Surnal nodded. "Right. Do not make any sudden movements, Len-Ahl. Your wounds are stopped, but I do not want to risk opening them up again or tearing the bandages."

The three men filed out of the room, though Surnal relied heavily on Dist's help to walk. Nerris sat back down in the bedside chair. He kept hold of her hand, stroking the back of her palm with his thumb, and she gazed into his eyes. Neither said anything for a time, until Len-Ahl noticed Nerris's torso was wrapped underneath his shirt.

"You are hurt," she said.

Nerris shrugged. "It's only a minor cut. We were fighting off Qabala's men on top of a moving cart and my footing was off. Surnal had it the worst. He took an arrow for you."

"I fear I have made a mess of things," Len-Ahl said. "I did not understand the depths humans could sink to. If I had, I never would have let us be captured that way. I am sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing," Nerris said. "If we hadn't been captured we never would have met Surnal, and from what he tells us, that would have been disastrous to your journey. Besides, Dist, Jhareth, and I are used to being thrown in dungeons. Contrary to what you may have heard, there are those who always seem to believe we're up to no good."

She laughed, and Nerris smiled. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice again," he said. "I thought I was going to lose you."

"I thought the same," Len-Ahl said. "When Qabala was whipping me with that knovim, I desperately wanted to see your face one more time before I died."

"All that is over now," Nerris said. "I promise, Len-Ahl, I will never let Qabala hurt you again."

Len-Ahl smiled wanly. "But when I get the Elemental Stone, I will have to face her. How could I ever prevail against such an accomplished and vicious warrior?"

"You won't be alone," Nerris said, "but let's take it one step at a time. We still have to find out where the next marker on the Xenea Dolchin is."

"How did you ever get Jinn's medallion away from Qabala?"

"I have my moments," Nerris said. "Actually, we broke in as she was torturing you and I took it from her. Surnal has had a look at the runes, but he's waiting until you're well so you can help decipher their meaning." His face grew concerned. "I know this is all sudden for you, Len-Ahl. If you begin to tire, tell me. You still need your rest."

"I have spent so long asleep. Please give me a few more moments. Otherwise, I feel I may lose my sense of what is real."

"Of course."

Len-Ahl closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of the sunlight, and took in the sounds of the birds chirping outside the window. "I sense you wish to say something else."

"Not much gets by you," Nerris said. "I've been thinking about this ever since we left Palehorse, not knowing if I would get the chance to say it." He paused and sighed, his next words coming reluctantly. "A few years ago, I lost my reason for living. I never thought I would love again, and then you came along. I thought for a long time what I felt was a betrayal to Ketsuya. I am still racked with that guilt, but for me to continue denying the way I feel would be an injustice to you and everything we've been through. It may sound selfish to say this, but when I go with you after the Exemplus, I'm not going because it means I can take revenge on Qabala, or because it will save the world. My only desire is to protect you, Len-Ahl. Because I love you."

And there it was. She had prayed to hear Nerris say it, but apprehension and dread clouded joy and elation. Before she had set her hands on Jinn's medallion, those words would have been music to her ears. But how could she rejoice in what those words brought after what she had envisioned? Not only would her actions from this point forward determine the fate of the world, but they concerned Nerris as well. It was too much.

Nerris took her silence to mean she had fallen asleep again. He reached out a hand and brushed some stray hairs from her face before rising from his seat. She was glad as he left the room, glad because he could not see the tears escape from her closed eyes. Two paths lay before her. If she rejected Nerris's love, after all they had been through, he would grow to hate her. That would have made her choice easy, but for the other future. If she accepted his love, all other things remained possible. She would go on her journey and find the Elemental Stone.

But if she allowed herself to return that love, she would destroy him. Nerris Palada would not survive the reemergence of the Exemplus, and the thought of life without him brought the lowest despair.

# Chapter Thirty-Eight

THE CANDLELIGHT IN Prince Lahnel's library burned even and steady, giving Nerris a good light to read by. Next to him Len-Ahl perused two moldy scrolls at once, and Surnal sat across from them, looking at star charts. Dist and Jhareth had given up on reading long ago and sat by the fireplace, feeding the flames and enjoying a bottle of heavily fortified Agossean Red.

They were researching astronomy, of all things. Not because of any interest in the heavens, but because of what Len-Ahl had told them of the words engraved on Jinn's medallion.

Nerris had expected her to be abed for another week, but she had shown remarkable resiliency. The day after waking up, she was out and about, though she had to walk with assistance. After two weeks, she moved about as she always had, as if she had no cares in the world and her whipping at the hands of Qabala had been a distant memory.

Surnal's treatment had been a sight to behold. The earth cleric had asked for a number of unusual materials. Roots, blossoms, barks, leaves, all from specific types of plant. He used these ingredients to make a brownish paste, which he applied liberally to Len-Ahl's wounds. After giving it time to set in, he took wet clay from one of the ravines and rubbed it onto the lacerations themselves.

He finished with an incantation in Xenean. His hands glowed a luminous green, and the clay on Len-Ahl's back seemed to meld with her skin, changing color little by little as if brushed by many tiny hands. When he finished, the wounds were gone, though the scarring from Qabala's knovim remained.

"I called upon the aid of Gobe and his gnomes," Surnal explained. "The substance of the earth and that of our bodies originate from the same source. Gobe is the great sculptor of our world, and with his help one can make these various elements malleable to suit his will."

Nerris shook his head. They sure had not taught healing like that at Gauntlet. "So Len-Ahl will be all right now?"

"The worst has been healed," Surnal said. "When she awakens depends upon how soon we can make Lesta. She will be able to rest in comfort there."

Len-Ahl's wounds broke open again several times during their trip, as Surnal had expected. Their cart was palace-made, sturdy and reliable, but had taken a beating during their chase with the guards. Eventually it wobbled and jostled with the best of them, and the terrain did not make their journey any easier on Len-Ahl. Surnal sent Jhareth and Dist off to find cobwebs in order to staunch the bleeding. Gradually, Len-Ahl's new back skin had grown strong enough to remain intact.

Nerris was not sure what he had expected when their cart had entered the port of Lesta's landward gate. They had been saved by the grace of men belonging to Prince Lahnel, and he marched right into the Y'Ghan family's ancestral home to meet the man whose father had fallen beneath Noruken's edge.

However, Prince Lahnel was not there when they arrived. With word that Qabala had sent Dume Valez and Dume Yorne with a substantial force to march on the port of Hesmuth, the Prince had taken the opportunity to assemble his own army, seeing a chance to deal a substantial blow to Qabala's men by trapping them between his own force and those loyal to him at Hesmuth.

His seneschal had seen to all their needs and opened the doors of Y'Ghan Palace to them, on the condition they not leave until Prince Lahnel was present to receive them. Nerris had accepted, for it allowed them some much needed convalescence after their experiences in the dungeons of the Aeternica. In addition to Len-Ahl's injuries, Nerris's own chest wound needed a chance to heal, and Surnal would need some substantial time to recover from the arrow which had pierced his leg. The color had fully returned to Dist's face as well, after his close call with the leg wound dealt to him by the griffins in Jinn's cave.

Somehow, Jhareth had come through the whole experience unscathed, but that did not stop him from taking advantage of Y'Ghan hospitality.

"Any chance of getting some food around here?" he had asked upon being greeted by Yares, the seneschal of Y'Ghan Palace. "The good stuff, I mean. We are the Thrillseekers after all, and I tire of trapping rabbits for sustenance."

"Of course," Yares replied. "Only the best for the Thrillseekers. Will you require anything else?"

"A new set of knives, forged by your own smiths. Dist will want a new crossbow, I'm sure. Something more compact and less of an eyesore than that monstrosity we had to leave in Palehorse."

Dist glared at him. "The Big Black was a great achievement in engineering. Forged by the great Gamil Free and designed by myself."

"I'm sure we're all very impressed," Jhareth said. "But we were talking of amenities. A fresh change of clothes and a soak in the baths would be welcome. I'm eager to rid myself of the filth of Qabala's glorified chicken coop."

Throughout their restive stay, Nerris had stayed by Len-Ahl's bedside until Surnal was ready to wake her up. It was an emotional moment for Nerris, and he said something to her he wished he had not. Thankfully, she had fallen asleep and not heard him.

Though they had promised not to leave the city, Jhareth thought it might be best to use their time constructively. And so Len-Ahl had gathered them all in the Prince's council chamber and lay Jinn's medallion on the table in front of them.

Captain Kerin had insisted on being present to represent Prince Lahnel in this matter, and stared at the trinket with wide eyes. "Is that pure gold?"

"I believe so," Len-Ahl said. "But the runes etched on its face are much more valuable. This is the beginning of the Faery Footpath, the Xenea Dolchin, and it will end at the resting place of the Elemental Stone. We must use the words we see here to find the next marker on the path, for the Elemental Stone feeds on passion and desire. These emotions can only be raised through struggle and hardship. Therefore, we have this journey before us."

"What does it say again?" Dist asked.

Len-Ahl took a breath and read them the words of Jinn's medallion in the language of the faeries:

_Sekleur yos, os loshquiven varou_

_Nureor lohen tamlie_

_Hajen yolxa ale dal jamou_

_Adee sallivan ie yiamlie_

"It sounds pretty," Nerris said, "but what does it mean?"

"I have been attempting to come up with the correct words to convey its meaning," Len-Ahl said. "I believe this is the best I can muster:

_On distant serpent, Stonechaser seek_

_rooted in earthly star_

_Impelling light from darkest hall_

_Gift of the gods_

Dist raised an eyebrow. "That makes no sense."

"It's a riddle," Jhareth said. "Of course it's going to go over your head."

"All right, why don't you tell us what it means?" Dist said.

"On distant serpent, Stonechaser seek," Jhareth said. "Obviously it's referring to a snake."

"Brilliant."

"Impelling light from darkest hall," Nerris said. "We heard these markers referred to as beacons before. It's trying to tell us where to find the next."

"Then why doesn't it just say it?" Dist asked.

"Queen Angelica did not want just anyone to uncover the Elemental Stone," Len-Ahl said. "This is part of what we must endure to prove ourselves worthy."

"Rooted in earthly star," Surnal said. "That is the part we should focus on. I believe that will tell us the exact location, if we can mark its meaning."

"Last I checked, the stars were in the sky," Dist said, "not in the earth."

"Jinn's medallion was in a place of fire," Nerris said. "Will the other faery kings house their markers within their elements?"

Len-Ahl nodded. "Very good, Nerris. I believe you may be correct. 'Earthly star' is somewhat of a contradiction. It could mean the next treasure lies within the domain of either Gobe or Paral."

They thought it over for a bit, and Surnal spoke. "I think we should concentrate on the stars," he said. "After all, none of us are astronomers and studying the heavens could give us the clue we need, one way or the other."

"Is there a library here?" Nerris asked.

"Yes, Master Nerris," Captain Kerin replied. "Prince Lahnel often spent days at a time within with his books in his youth. His father did not put much faith in the procurement of knowledge and did not concern himself with the upkeep of the library in the Aeternica. You should find the type of tome you're looking for here."

They met in the library that evening, and the stack of books Surnal brought out made Dist's face fall. "We're going to read all that?"

"Research," Nerris said. "You don't have to read every word of every book."

"I thought I left all this book bumming behind at Gauntlet."

They read for most of the night. Though the Y'Ghans' library did not have many books on the subject of astronomy, they had enough to keep Dist and Jhareth complaining. Nerris liked reading and didn't mind their task at all, and Len-Ahl's eyes moved across each page faster than should have been possible. A steady stream of tomes soon formed a pile on the edge of the table. At a glare from Nerris, Dist and Jhareth had come back from their wine break and took up the daunting literary volumes once again.

"I've never understood how people can see pictures in the stars," Jhareth said as he leafed through a book with illuminations of the constellations.

"You have to use your imagination," Nerris said.

"The ancients often believed in improbable things," Surnal said.

"You're telling me," Dist said. "This one I'm reading says the sun is really a star. It looks bigger because it's closer to our world."

Surnal glanced at the cover of his book and smiled. "That's _Concepts of Celestial Logistics_ ," he said. "It was written ten years ago, Dist."

"You're saying this is true?" Dist said. "It sounds like a bunch of dog dung to me."

Surnal nodded. "The stars we see as mere dots in the sky appear so because they are far away, farther away than we could ever conceive. What we call the sun illuminates our world because it is much closer. It may even be a part of one of Jhareth's constellations to a world millions and millions of miles away."

Nerris looked at the sketch of the constellation known as Xalos the Serpent and thought Jhareth was right. Aside from an uneven line connecting the stars, it didn't look much like a serpent at all. The ancients must have had a lot of time on their hands. They had even named a river after Xalos, as he recalled.

An idea came upon him, sending a shock through his body. He remembered all the histories of the kingdoms of Tormalia he had read in his spare time at Gauntlet. Most of the books contained history of wars and military campaigns, but a few went into detail on the culture of the various kingdoms. He reached for a map of the continent.

"Is something the matter?" Len-Ahl asked.

"I think I may have it," he answered. He motioned for his friends to gather around. "I was thinking about the second line on the medallion, 'Rooted in earthly star.' That didn't make much sense until what Surnal said about the stars and the sun. Look."

He pointed to the country of Raddoni, more specifically the river which ran through the kingdom. "The Xalosian River is named after Xalos the Serpent because of the way it snakes north to south from the Cosette Watershed through the Doni Zad to the Talsic Midsea."

"On distant serpent, Stonechaser seek," Len-Ahl said.

"What makes you sure it's that river?" Jhareth asked. "A number of them resemble serpents, as I recall."

"You two remember the Doni Khel, right?" Nerris asked Dist and Jhareth. They nodded.

Len-Ahl's brow furrowed. "Doni Khel?"

"Ah," Surnal said. "The great pyramid Doni Khel, one of the Eight Triumphs of Ancient Man. Since the beginning of days, it sits on the banks of the Xalosian River, lording over the city of Inya. It citizens regard it as a physical symbol of their gods."

"What's a pyramid?" Len-Ahl asked.

Nerris had been searching the shelves as Surnal spoke and pulled off a book on the history of Raddoni. He opened it to an illustration of the triangular shaped tomb known as the Doni Khel and put it before Len-Ahl. "That's a pyramid. Or at least, the largest example known. It's larger than a palace, and houses the corpse of one of Raddoni's most famous rulers, Kahz Sukhel."

"What does this have to do with an earthly star?" Dist asked.

"Yes, get to the point, please," Jhareth said. "It's late and I'm getting tired."

"Didn't you two ever pay attention in history class?" Nerris asked. "Doni Khel is a term of ancient Raddonite. In Tormalian, it translates to _Jungle Sun_."

"I remember now," Jhareth said. "The tip of the pyramid is made of gold, and on a bright day it shines over Inya like a second sun." He laughed. "I had always hoped to pay a visit to the top one day and bring some of that gold back to my own coffers."

"You and every other thief," Dist said. "I still think it's a coincidence."

"It's the best lead we have," Jhareth insisted.

"It is said in Raddonite lore that Kahz Sukhel wore an amulet around his neck which gave him great power," Surnal said. "With an iron fist, he used it to administer justice in his domain through all his days. It was called the Pentacle of Judgment. Legends say in his youth, Sukhel saved a man from a tiger in the jungle. It turned out the man was the human son of Ma'at, the leader of the gods. As a reward, Ma'at granted him the pentacle. None know what happened to it after his death, but many believe it resides with him still, in the depths of Doni Khel."

"You think the Pentacle of Judgment is the next beacon?" Dist asked.

"If it is not, it is surely buried somewhere with him," Surnal said. "This is no coincidence, Dist. Everything fits too nicely."

Len-Ahl nodded. "I agree. The Xalosian River is the distant serpent, the earthly star is the Doni Khel, the impelling light is the beacon, and the gift of the gods is the Pentacle of Judgment, which may or may not be the same thing."

Jhareth took the map in his hands and laughed. "The best part is, Himos is right across the Gulf of Lesta. We could be in Inya within a couple of weeks."

Nerris realized he was right. In spite of getting captured by Qabala, their journey had not been hindered at all. Indeed, she had unwittingly taken them closer to their next destination. "All right, now we know what we have to do. Surnal, you said anyone with the desire can be a Stonechaser, correct?"

"Anyone can make the journey," Surnal said. "Fate will weed out those who cannot forge on."

"I probably don't need to say it, but I intend to go with you," Nerris said. "Len-Ahl is my friend, and I will see her safely to the end of the Xenea Dolchin." He looked at Dist and Jhareth.

"This is our battle too," Jhareth said. "Qabala has seen to that. We're coming as well."

"I can speak for myself, Jhareth," Dist said.

"Well, you're going, aren't you?"

"Yes, but let me say it. You're not my keeper."

"Oh? What am I, then?"

"Annoying."

Nerris smiled at their needling. He had always been able to count on his friends, and now, when so much was at stake, nothing had changed. He found himself touched, not for the first time, by Dist and Jhareth's willingness to put it all on the line for a cause they did not fully understand but knew was right. Surnal's skills in the healing arts would be most welcome on their journey as well, and Nerris was surprised at how quickly he had grown attached to the middling Nateus.

At last, his gaze turned to Len-Ahl. She smiled as well, but this was a first. Len-Ahl smiled much, and her smiles meant different things. This one wasn't wan or comforting or even glad. Her smile held hope, and shined over them brighter than any sun, jungle or otherwise.

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# Also By Nicholas Andrews

**THE** **ADVENTURERS**

Book One: The Adventure Tournament

Book Two: Babyface Fire

Book Three: Crown Princess*

**THE LAW OF EIGHT**

Book One: Secrets of the Stonechaser

Book Two: Follow the Faery Footpath

Book Three: A Sense of Sacrifice*

Book Four: The Whims of War*

**SERIALS**

The Thrillseekers: Cadets of Gauntlet ±

* Forthcoming, titles subject to change

± Ongoing

The Journey Begins!

Enjoy a preview of the next book in the Law of Eight

**F** **OLLOW** ******THE** **F** **AERY** **F** **OOTPATH**

Available Now!

# Sample Chapter

THE SUMMER SUN glistened on the water, reflecting a visage, a mirror image of the surrounding mountain peaks. Salty wind blew inland from the Gulf of Lesta, though they were too far away from the coast for Nerris to hear the waves breaking. The shrieking of gulls mixed with the singing of land birds, each expressing its own avian aria of noise. To the south stood the city of Lesta, a pall of thin smoke hanging over it.

The lake before Nerris and Len-Ahl was quiet, uninhabited by human life. They walked toward the shoreline along a stream which fed into the gulf, following it to its source. Len-Ahl led him across at one point, hopping from boulder to boulder to reach the opposite bank. Nerris's boots echoed off the rocks like claps of thunder, but Len-Ahl made nary a sound as she lithely leapt between the stones. Nerris wondered if she knew where she was going. She had heard of this lake from Prince Lahnel, and had been pestering Nerris to take her here ever since.

Nerris had not been sure what to expect when Prince Lahnel arrived back at Y'Ghan Palace. Word had it he had been soundly defeated by Dume Valez before he could reach his people at Hesmuth. It was a couple of days before the Prince, the son of the king Nerris had assassinated eight months before, requested his presence.

Nateus Surnal escorted Nerris, Dist, Jhareth, and Len-Ahl to the great hall, a modest but airy throne room with enough windows to brighten it with natural light. Prince Lahnel had not arrived yet, but that gave them time to take in their surroundings.

The room held a great menagerie of life within its space. At either end were two stone ponds, filled with water piped in from the outside. Jungle ferns and other plants suited to the warm climate grew out of islands in the middle. Caged off areas held exotic animals from southern Tormalia and northern Egkari. Wire-tailed monkeys shrieked at them as they passed, hanging from vines. A orange-and-black striped tiger lounged in another cage, basking in the sunlight.

"How pretty!" Len-Ahl said, approaching a cage containing a large, multi-colored bird.

"That's a parrot," Nerris said. "We saw them once during an expedition to the Sicorian Mountains."

"Hello," Len-Ahl called to it.

_"Hello,"_ the parrot called back in a croaky voice.

Len-Ahl laughed. "It talks too?"

"Not really," Jhareth said. "They just imitate sounds they hear." He stepped close to the cage. "How are you?" he asked.

_"How are you?"_ the parrot replied.

"I'm fine."

_"I'm fine."_

"Dist is a dunce!"

_"Dist is a dunce!"_

Jhareth smiled and continued toward the throne. Dist glared at him, and nudged Nerris.

"I don't like this," he said. "After what you did to his father, we may not be any better off than we were in Qabala's dungeons. We should have left days ago."

"Prince Lahnel's men saved our hides," Nerris said. "The least we can do is hear him out."

"His Highness is not like Qabala, Dist," Surnal said. "He understands who Len-Ahl is, and what she seeks. Whatever his personal feelings may be, he certainly sees the advantages of having the Thrillseekers on his side."

"And if he decides to take vengeance on Nerris?" Dist said. "His father was assassinated, Nateus. Do you know what I'd do to the man who did that to my own father?"

"Have him murdered in turn, no doubt." Their heads all whipped around to focus on the black-haired figure on the dais, who had entered from an adjacent chamber. "Beaten and slaughtered, impaled and burned, garroted and executed." He smiled. "Or something to that effect?"

Nerris had heard the last scion of House Y'Ghan described often enough to recognize him. He judged the Prince in his early thirties, and his shoulder-length hair was tied behind the fine but weary features of his face. He didn't much resemble King Lahnen; Lahnel was slender instead of husky, clean-shaven whereas his father had sported a full beard.

Prince Lahnel Y'Ghan descended the dais to greet them. He first went to his old friend Surnal, who he caught in a fierce embrace. "I thought you lost forever when you set yourself on that fool's task, Nateus."

"A mere leap of faith, your Highness," Surnal said. "I'm afraid I'll be around to nuisance you a bit longer."

Lahnel clasped hands with Dist and Jhareth next. "I cannot tell you how much of an honor it is to meet the Thrillseekers at last. I have been hearing tales of you three at every ball and state dinner for about ten years now."

"They normally talk about us in taverns and brothels," Jhareth said. "I suppose we're moving up in the world."

Lahnel chuckled and swept up Len-Ahl's hand as she offered it, kissing her fingers. "You must be the Stonechaser I have heard so much about. To think someone this lovely has been through all you have motivates me to ever higher righteousness in this struggle I face. Were you not burdened by the terrible task before you, I would gladly keep you by my side so your face might brighten even my darkest hours."

Len-Ahl giggled, and Nerris rolled his eyes. Finally, the Prince approached him. "Nerris Palada. I have heard many stories about your role in this conflict. I would like to think these rumors just that, but they come from some very reputable sources. Nothing would make me gladder than for them to be in error, yet I fear they are not. Please, tell me."

Nerris cleared his throat. Now was the moment of truth. He owed the Prince that much. "I'm afraid your sources are very good at their job, your Highness. Last autumn, I was a mercenary in the employ of Lady Qabala. When she found out who I was, a task fell to me. I was to go with several of my fellows to the Aeternica and end the life of King Lahnen."

"And you certainly succeeded," Lahnel said. He ascended the dais and sat on his throne. "Do not misunderstand me, Nerris. I have no great respect for what you did. I understand you were a soldier, following an order. Having commanded myself, I can appreciate that. Nor did I have much love for his Majesty. You may not have known this, but we quarreled on many state matters, quite fiercely, and if Qabala had not rebelled, I would have eventually. Yet despite the crown he wore, King Lahnen was also a man. My father. As honorable as I have heard the Thrillseekers to be, I wonder what would drive you to commit such an act, to make an exception, in this sole case."

"It's difficult to know where to begin," Nerris said. "As you know, your Highness, it was an act committed by me. I had been separated from Dist and Jhareth for three years, and though I had help getting into the Aeternica, the death of your father rests on my shoulders alone."

Lahnel nodded. "We know of the traitor Lukas Kord. But who were the others who went with you?"

"Chalis and Mikaren were two of Qabala's finest men," Nerris said. "Very good and dependable, yet disposable. They died honorably shortly thereafter. The man who led us I knew then as Rade. He now serves as one of Qabala's Dume-Generals under his real name: Yorne Radenos Regnak."

Lahnel chuckled. "The old man finally did it."

"Your Highness?" Surnal asked.

"Dume Yorne was a protector of King Kolmat, my second cousin," Lahnel said. "When he died, Yorne blamed my father. Not that I would put it past him to murder his own blood, but Yorne was rather vehement in implicating his Majesty. Dume Yorne left Palehorse the next day, leaving behind a note that said he swore to one day bring down King Lahnen. It looks like he succeeded. But I digress. Please continue, Nerris."

"I was in a bad place in my life," Nerris said, being as vague as possible. Some secrets were his own, and the Prince did not need to know about Ketsuya. "As a mercenary, I lived an inch away from death every single day, yet I kept on living. I was not ordered to kill your father; I volunteered for it. I did not expect to survive, even if I was successful. I was looking for a place to die."

"And how do you feel about this now?" Lahnel asked. "Do you seek forgiveness for what you did?"

Nerris shook his head. "I expect no forgiveness from you, your Highness, nor do I seek it. Beg your pardon, but though he was your father, King Lahnen was also a petty tyrant and no doubt deserved his fate. Whether I was right or wrong in passing judgment is not for me to say. Do I feel remorse? Yes. I do not relish in the act of killing, no matter how flippant the bawdy stories about the Thrillseekers make it. But if you expect me to stand here and beg forgiveness, you will not have it of me. I will, however, accept responsibility for the assassination of King Lahnen Y'Ghan and allow you to pass judgment yourself, if that is what you wish."

Prince Lahnel regarded him for a few moments, his face unreadable. Finally, he said, "Fear not, Nerris Palada. I have no wish to punish you for your act. Family honor would normally have me demand satisfaction from you, but I am fully aware you are a Thrillseeker. As I am sure your friends would attest, were we to battle, you would no doubt chop me into little princelets." Dist and Jhareth chuckled at that, and Lahnel smiled. "I am not sure I can ever give you my friendship, Nerris, but I can give you my respect. To stand here, head held high, in my power, and accept responsibility for such an act is the stuff of nobility I would expect from a Thrillseeker."

Nerris kept himself stoic. That had been a little too easy. "Thank you, your Highness."

"Unfortunately, my father's death, my position at the time, and Qabala's victory at Ryvetsk turned the war in a most unfavorable direction. I stand here now all but beaten. My force at Hesmuth has been dismantled. The only noble allies left to me, the Bosmicks of Kallov, are no more. My own forces were soundly defeated by Dume Valez, and no doubt Queen Qabala will be knocking on the gates of Lesta soon." His gaze turned to Len-Ahl. "Yet hope stands before me even now. From what I hear, you will set out together, follow the Faery Footpath and claim the Exemplus so Qabala might be brought down and the one known as the Destroyer banished forever."

"Yes, your Highness," Surnal said. "But I fear for your safety. We have no way of knowing how long our journey will be, and only Lesta now stands between Qabala and total domination of Yagolhan."

"The city is sturdy enough," Lahnel said. "As I said before, I have known for a long time I would have to overthrow my own father. I have spent years fortifying the walls and setting up emergency supply routes by land and sea. Holed up here, we can continue to frustrate Qabala for years. However, with no allies left, it is my responsibility to seek aid elsewhere. Might I ask a boon?" he said to Nerris.

"Of course," Nerris said. It would come now. After what he said, Nerris could scarcely refuse him anything, though he knew it was dangerous to accept a favor without first knowing its nature.

"My kingdom is on the brink of darkness," he said. "If no help is to be found within, I must look without. Surnal tells me you plan to go to Raddoni to look for the Pentacle of Judgment and then off to wherever the next beacon lies. I would accompany you as far as Inya. I will go on to the meeting of the Kolmian Alliance in Syrutim to beg the help of the rulers of eastern Tormalia."

Nerris, Dist, and Jhareth looked at each other with dismay. With all that had been happening, they had forgotten about their promise to attend the annual midsummer Council.

"Your Highness," Surnal said, "there is no Yagol seat on the Council."

"Yet the invitation was never rescinded," Lahnel said. "My father declined to take part. He did not like anyone else having a say in how he ran his kingdom. But the Alliance was named after King Kolmat. I would take up his seat and beg the help of the eastern nations, if that is what it takes." He looked to Nerris. "The Thrillseekers' friendships with King Maerlos and King Owen is widely known. Do you believe they would be predisposed to help my poor country?"

Nerris gritted his teeth. There was no easy answer to that, nor did he wish to speak for Maerlos or Owen. "It is hard to say, your Highness. Neither man will have forgotten you are kin to Yahd the Enslaver, no matter how many years have passed since his war."

"My choices are few," Lahnel said. "Surely they will see a Yagolhan unified under Qabala poses a more immediate threat to the east."

Nerris kept silent. Depending on how strong Congir's grip on Faerna had become, King Maerlos might not even remember his own name anymore. "If you think it best to accompany us to Inya, your Highness, I cannot stop you. You surely know what is best for your own people."

Lahnel nodded. "Accompany you I shall. I promise you, while in my company you will not want for luxury. Thank you. One more piece of business before I let you all get back to enjoying your day." He snapped his fingers and a guard came forth, bearing a wooden case. "Len-Ahl, would you please step forward?"

Len-Ahl hesitated out of surprise, but approached the Prince, stopping a few steps from the dais. Lahnel opened the case and drew out something slender. Gripping it in both hands, he descended to stand before Len-Ahl and gave her the object. Nerris now saw it was a fipple flute, carved from a dark-colored wood.

The half-faery gaped at it. She had not had a flute since Falares had taken them captive in northern Yagolhan over a month before. Len-Ahl worked her magic through music. It was her connection to the Faery Realm her mother had belonged to, and Nerris felt a slight surge when Len-Ahl took hold of the instrument.

"How did you know?" she asked the Prince.

"I am told you have visions in your dreams, Len-Ahl," Lahnel said. "I recently had a vivid dream as well. There is someone who requests your presence not far from here. She said the Stonechaser and the Catalyst are to go to the nameless lake north of the city, where she will reveal certain truths to you. When you get there, play the song your heart tells you to play, and she will appear."

"Who?" Len-Ahl asked.

"She did not name herself," Lahnel said. "I have my suspicions, but I had best leave it at that. Better you find out for yourself, I am sure. Do not delay in this matter, for I intend we leave for Inya soon. I must reach Syrutim by midsummer."

The next morning, Nerris found himself skipping across stones, following Len-Ahl toward this mysterious lake. As they approached the shoreline, mist seemed to form out of nowhere, encircling them as if cutting off the outside world. He felt this place was either very old or housed something beyond ancient.

Len-Ahl stopped at the shore, where the waves lapped against her feet. "This is the place," she said.

Nerris stared out across the water. All was still. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said. "Can you feel it, Nerris? This place is strongly attached to the Faery Realm. There is great power here." She absentmindedly stroked the flute in her hands.

"Go ahead," Nerris said. "I may not feel the power, but I will protect you from whatever comes out of that water."

Len-Ahl nodded, and raised the fipple flute to her lips. She was improvising, he knew, yet the song which emerged was haunting and mournful, like a dirge. The notes seemed to come unbidden, and she did not stumble or hesitate as she played the song to its conclusion.

As she took the flute from her lips, nothing happened. But then the wind picked up and the water in front of them parted. A white form emerged, emanating a light which made it difficult to discern features. It hovered above the water, moving toward them.

It glided closer, and Nerris was able to get a better look. It was a woman, beautiful in the way Qabala was. Instead of a dress, she wore trousers and a leather vest which accentuated her feminine curves. Her long, brown hair flowed out from her head. Strands bobbed at random, as if she still floated beneath the water.

When she locked eyes with him, Nerris felt a sense of awe, but also danger. His hand instinctively went to Noruken's hilt, but the entity merely gave him an amused smile.

"Stay thy fears, Catalyst," she said. "I have not summoned thee to cause harm." Her voice came in an echo, as if from somewhere far away.

"That is a very formal dialect, my lady," Nerris said. "I am Nerris Palada and this is Len-Ahl. I do not believe I have had the pleasure."

"I know thy names," the spirit said. "They have resounded throughout the world for some time now. I shall introduce myself, though I fear thou wilt not place trust in my words forthwith. Once, I was a goddess. Over the centuries I have been named the Consumer, Lady Death, and the Bitch of Blood, but I have one name thou wilt recognize." She fixed them with a sad stare. "My name is Yala."

# About the Author

Nicholas Andrews has been writing stories of various length and dubious quality for over twenty years. He attended both Ohio University and Wright State University, but was forced to drop out due to deteriorating sanity. He has worked in restaurants, grocery stores, an airfield (for four whole days) and as a video producer for independent pro wrestling companies. When not writing about himself in the third person, he enjoys reading, composing music, riffing bad movies, and playing retro video games.
