Flight of Ravens
Book Two of:
The Shattered Web Trilogy
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Written by:
Story Master:
Crisia B. Ferguson
Contributing Authors:
Brianna Gibson
Emma Hart
Helen Pluck
Jennifer Duff
Marie Sult
Mary Berquist
Misty Kennedy
Nathan Flavel
Stephanie Vann
Published with full permission
from all writers involved.
Copyright 2006
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Whispin – Western Continent
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Aerdon – Continent of Nehlmere
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Tenobrous – The Dark Dimension
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Elemmiire – The Tauremorna
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Chapter 1
An’Thaya felt a little odd, and perhaps slightly guilty when the groups parted ways. The Amazon
had kissed Adarin and reassured him, she would be fine. The guilt was for taking Galain away
from Ghet for a few days. The other redhead was having a rough time of it and the Elen was her
strength. The solace was in knowing they would be able to feel one another quite clearly during
the entire time.
The trek was, as usual, a monotonous one though endless black, the scenery never changing,
only the wraiths occasionally drifting out of the mist. Horrid memories that the foursome did
their best to ignore.
Her fingers twined with Galain and the cold seeping into her bones, Tay pushed on, grateful for
the tireless stamina her Elven heritage had given her. Another advantage to splitting up, the
slower members of the group had gone the shortest distance.
Love—don’t feel guilty or odd. We’re doing the best we all can to get the children back and it
means sacrifices and a great deal of discomfort on everyone’s part. But it’s going to be worth it.
We’re going to piss off Samara and mess up her plans and get those boys back. And then when
everything’s all done we’re going to all rest on a big, white, sandy beach under the hottest sun
imaginable and we’re going to soak up so much light we’ll all be glowing, Galain sent to his
wife, squeezing her cold hands tightly.
He’d said his temporary farewells to Ghetsuhm; confident that she would be fine with the others
though he missed her already. This was the most trying place in creation and the perfect breeding
ground for insanity, depression and further ravaging diseases of the soul. He wanted both of his
wives out of here... he wanted the boys rescued and safe. He cast a quick look in Shadow and
Ash’s direction, but didn’t say anything aloud. They would all four make excellent time and with
minimal energy expended if possible.
Now the only thing that really bothered Shadow about the place was some of the inhabitants, and
the fact that the silence that reined was enough to make her ears ring. “Ugh…it’s too damn
quiet.” She muttered, it was the kind of stillness that left you on edge, wondering what was
around the bend…like the calm before the storm from hell.
Oh, now there’s a pleasant thought. The mental voice cut in to her mind, breaking up the
unreasonable silence that had taken up residence there.
The forest elf bit back a chuckle, Oh hush, Cubby…How are things?
She ‘listened’ as her twin ran through everything that had happened since they had left S’Hea
and had entered Tenobrous. The mental image of herself nodded, outwardly her head did the
same. She pondered sharing the news that had been passed on to her, but held her tongue for the
moment. Shadow smiled reassuringly at Galain when he looked her way.
Galain felt better when he caught Shadow’s smile and his heart lifted a bit. The lighter part of
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him nearly offered that they all start a rousing rendition of Kum By Ya perhaps... an old Terran
song he’d heard once and still hadn’t quite figured out. But it sounded appropriate.
The Amazon caught that stray thought and a small laugh escaped her, an odd sound in the hollow
void. “I love you,” she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze back. Somehow, no matter how bad
things got, Galain had always been able to bring a smile to her face, and laughter to her heart.
Smiling up at the Elen she looked over at Shadow and winked at her Ad’Vere before turning her
head slightly to watch the ever-silent Ash.
The laughter was precious as possible and Galain drew Tay into a kiss before he drew away, his
crooked grin visible in the murk.
Gods I love you, he sent before he stared around. Where is that damn Ash?
Ghet watched the others leave with shadowed eyes. The crack in her mind was widening; it was
becoming a full-time job keeping control of it. She’d slept like the dead last night, grateful for
the profound exhaustion that came from exercising her power. It was almost enough to make her
hope they had another run-in today.
She turned her eyes to their group with a wry smile. “You notice they left all the parents
behind?”
“Perhaps they think we’re the ones most likely to go crazy on them” Bran said with a tinge of
wry humour. He squeezed the redhead’s shoulder gently. “Are you alright?” the fair-haired elf
asked her softly. The shadows in her blue eyes worried him. They were going to need all their
strength to get through this. The last thing they wanted was for Ghetsuhm to crack up under the
strain.
“It’s quite possible,” Ghet said lightly, or as lightly as she could manage considering it was
perfectly true. She looked at Bran assessingly; as best she could in the darkness. She’d always
liked him, but things had been a little strained since he’d decided to blame Ro for the conception
of Rhagi. And what could she say to change his mind? Still, under that, she trusted him, and he
was one of the easier people for her to be around when things went... badly. She dropped her
voice, though it wouldn’t do her much good with all the pointy little ears around. “Listen, Bran,
if I should... become irrational, I mean, really irrational, you must keep me away from the
Blackthorns. Oh gods, Mira... you don’t have the Rage, do you? It’s like... a big wide-open gate
to me. I can hurt them so badly if I’m not in control of myself. And they can do the same to me.”
Then she took a deep breath and shook her head. “I’ll be okay. As long as I can keep in touch
with Galain, I’ll be okay.”
“The Rage is something I’ve managed to avoid up until now at least” the fair-haired elf replied
quietly. “Hey, you know me. I’m the sane one in the family. Not that that’s difficult when you
take into account who I’m being compared to, but still.” He slipped his arm around Ghet’s
shoulders in a companionable fashion and gave her a quick hug. “You’ll be okay,” he said
reassuringly. “We all will. We’ll get the boys back and then we can all go home.”
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A serious look appeared in his jade green eyes and for a second he was silent. “I know things
haven’t been great between us for awhile. You have to understand, regardless of how difficult
she can be sometimes, she is still my little sister and it’s hard to watch her being hurt and be able
to do nothing about it. That doesn’t mean that you can’t rely on me if you need me, Ghet. You,
or Y’Roden for that matter. Something like this puts things in perspective a little. Not that I can
say there is no anger at all, but in comparison to the problems we have now it’s not even on the
same scale. Does that make any sense?”
Adarin watched Ghetsuhm and Bran speak, but he purposefully dampened his hearing so as not
to eavesdrop. He was concerned for her, but he wasn’t the one she sought help from—if that’s
what she was seeking. As it was he was concerned over Tay. She had become enormously distant
and it frightened him. He had wished terribly that he could go with her, not Galain, and now he
stood silently to one side, staring into the murk and closing his eyes as he traced along the bond
to Tay.
Ghet was silent for a moment. She actually respected Silverthorn for not having told Bran the
truth. It wasn’t like the woman gave a damn about Rhagi’s happiness, after all. “Bran, I know. If
only because I’ve hit that same loyalty between Ro and Thaya. I just wish there was some way I
could make you believe... it wasn’t Ro’s fault. He’d never deliberately hurt Silverthorn.
Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, there are still... accidents. I don’t like her,
Bran, but I don’t hate her either, not any more. And for once we both want the same thing, we
want to get Fechine back.” Ghet had no reason to believe that it would have bothered Silverthorn
at all for Rhagi to suffer, or die, and plenty of reason to believe the contrary, so she just left that
side of the equation right out of it. “What I’m trying, very badly, to say, is that I do trust you,
Bran. I love Ro and it pains me to see the two of you at odds, but I do understand why you feel
the way you do.”
“Thank you for that” the fair-haired elf said softly. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate him or
anything like that. I suppose the anger comes as much from disappointment as anything. Which
is silly I know, but when she is with him she’s different, Ghet. I know the two of you don’t get
on so perhaps you can’t see that, but she is. She had cut herself off so thoroughly from everyone
else that it used to scare me sometimes. Somehow Ro managed to get through to her when
nobody else could. Then to see the pain in her eyes and know that he was at least partially
responsible, accident or not...” Bran shook his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be saying this to you
of all people. You were always too easy to talk to.”
Ghet actually laughed, leaning on Bran’s shoulder a moment while she laughed with genuine
humour. “Yes, that’s the problem with me: I’m too easy to talk to. Bran, she makes Ro happy,
and that’s more than I could do. That’s good enough for me.”
A quiet laugh escaped Bran’s lips. “You’re right,” he said, hugging her slightly before looking
down at her. “Thank you, Ghet... for understanding, and not thinking I was completely nuts.
You’re a very special lady, you know.”
Ghet blushed, though fortunately it was dark. She angled her face up and kissed his cheek. “You
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give me too much credit. But I’m hardly going to argue. Now, we should break this up before
someone gets entirely the wrong idea.”
***
Rhodry was smirking to himself by the time he reached Rani’s door. Part of him was a little
worried, having run across Y’Roden in the hallway. The King had looked about ready to rip the
head off of anyone that got in his way, so the Mercenary had wisely given him a wide berth. He
did, after all, like his head right where it was. The smirk, was anticipation … The blonde human
was looking forward to spending time with the Hellcat known as Rani Al’Trekis, she had so
many lovely buttons to press and he was eager to find each and every one of them. Rough
knuckles rapped on the door to her chambers and Rhodry crossed his arms, leaning his massive
frame up against the doorway to wait.
Rani had left the council chambers seething and now was pacing her rooms like a caged tiger.
Her strong sense of duty was warring with her desire to go straight to Y’Roden and demand
someone else accompany Lord Rhodry. He had gotten under her skin and it was driving her to
distraction, something she had not known for a long time and had not anticipated knowing again.
Since he’d been to Corin and back she had been trying to puzzle out just what it was that was
causing this so she could get it under control again. A strong rapping on her door invaded her
rant to herself. She jumped immediately berating herself for letting her ire distract her but even
in that was by no means calming down. Yanking the door open hard she glared at the visitor
framed therein and snorted, “Just what do you want? Isn’t it enough I have endure you in
Corin?”
“Uhm,” a chuckle snuck in under the sound and Rhodry grinned, “It is time to go Milady, or had
you forgotten? Have you even slept? Is that the same outfit you were wearing at the council
yesterday?” Ah yes… there were those buttons he had been thinking on pushing. “If you are too
busy I suppose I could go ask his Majesty for someone else to accompany me. But, to be honest,
I passed him in the hall not to long ago… and he doesn’t look very approachable at the moment.
Have you ever noticed that nerve in his jaw that twitches when he is really angry… it’s quite
disconcerting.”
Biting back a retort sure to set the wrong mood Rani glared at Rhodry fully aware he was a Lord
and she a Ranger in the service of the King. “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she snapped. “I am as
ready as is possible ...My Lord.” and she drawled the honorific deliberately lacing it with her
irritation. “As much as I would love to see The King hand you your head he knows full well I
would not go against his orders. As for my sleep and rest habits who appointed you my
governess? My wardrobe is also none of your business.” Having said all she was going to Rani
grabbed her gear and loose weapons to follow him.
“You haven’t slept, have you,” the mercenary said with a grin, “explains the crankiness. After
you Milady.” Standing aside he let Rani take the lead as they headed down the stairs and out
towards the Airdocks. “The first person on our list is Lord Wyvern,” he informed her, “A distant
cousin of the Modars and most likely to ally himself with Y’Roden rather than Tallin. Not that I
can think of a single person that would actually ally themselves with that monster.” He offered
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her a hand as they boarded the Airship; “Do you have a horse of your own? I usually travel on
foot but His Majesty thought I should take one of the Obsidian’s this time.”
“Crank.?....” She cut her reply off and followed him all the way to the airship. Rani had only
heard small bits of reference to this potential ally. Still she nodded understanding of how his
loyalties could prove to be so firm. Listening intently enough to not let important details slip by.
“Yes, Telpe is stabled here with all the other horses for the castle.” Rani wondered just how
Telpe would view this unnerving Lord and it made her chuckle softly to think about it.
“Telpe? Well then, let us go tack up this Telpe and we shall be off to the lands of Corin,” Rhodry
chuckled. The airship had begun its slow descent towards the ground as they spoke and the large
human male took a seat on the gunwale. The next few days promised to be interesting in more
than one way. A lovely hellcat to spend his time with on one hand, and the task of remembering
how to be a Lord on the other. The one eyed Merc wasn’t entirely sure which was the more
daunting activity.
***
There was a smile on Y’Roden’s face, despite the formal wear he was stuffed into and he hadn’t
even complained once about the circlet constricting his forehead. His gaze kept wandering over
to Silverthorn who was seated next to him on the dais. King and Queen of S’Hea… though that
was far from the reason for the expression on the half-elf’s face. Of course, that was something
he was going to keep to himself for a little while, the others could assume it was over the
adoption. Which, indeed, a good part of it was.
“Your Majesty.” Lord Al’Teron’s voice cut into the King’s thoughts as he bowed before the
throne and held forth a bound scroll. “The papers which you requested have been drawn up, and
those whose presence are required have been summoned.”
“Thank you Milord Al’Teron,” Ro nodded and accepted the crisp paper document, excusing the
S’Hean elf with a gesture and breaking the seal, the silver in Ro’s hair catching the light as he
bent his head to read the text. The dark haired Lord nodded, turning to bow to Silverthorn as well
before taking up a place next to his Cousin, Captain Twig Al’Teron who was standing guard
over Their Majesties in the absence of Rani Al’Trekis.
A glimmer of a smile crossed his wife’s face. The expression on Y’Roden’s face was worth
whatever price she might have to pay. She nodded politely to Lord Al’Teron as he bowed to her
before glancing towards the door. This was to be a small, closed ceremony with only the
immediate family involved attending. “Everything correct, love?” she asked softly.
“Yes,” the half-elf nodded and shot a glance over at his wife, winking at her before movement in
the entranceway tore his gaze away. Se’Liene, leaning heavily on the arm of B’Elya, had arrived.
Tired and pale she nonetheless managed to look merry and bright somehow, eager to see her
Grandson take his rightful place. She found herself rather missing her usual leaning post, but
Fadil had been put in charge of moving the army into Corinian territory. The armies were, even
now, moving through the portals and setting up camp.
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“Dagar Grandmother,” Valin’s said softly as he and Anaya came up behind the two redheads.
The Queen paused and turned to look up at the tall Prince, her emerald eyes sparkling as he
leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“Dagar Valin,” she said softly, then her voice dropped to a whisper as Summerlin and Reece
came up behind the couple. “Don’t look now, but you are blocking the doorway.”
Anaya laughed, tugging her husband’s arm. “Wouldn’t be the first time, c’mon you big lug,” the
blonde smiled.” Dagar everyone.” She was still feeling a little overwhelmed by the news... but
being overwhelmed the past couple of days was nothing new.
“Dagar,” Silverthorn replied in greeting to the new arrivals. “And Dagar to you two too,” she
added, glancing up at Summerlin and Reece as the couple walked into the room. “I believe that’s
everyone we were expecting, isn’t it?” Jade green eyes fixed on Y’Roden with an expression of
enquiry.
“It’s everyone,” Summerlin replied quietly, casting a quick look toward her son and feeling
immense pride in him as she squeezed her husband’s arm and looked up at him. “S’okay?” she
asked, having done so before, but still doing so again.
Reece smiled right back and nodded, leaning in to kiss his wife’s temple. Of course it was all
right. The Elen had lived a life before him and just because they had married, it didn’t take the
reality of it away. Valin was rightfully Y’Roden’s son, and his rightful heir, and the SandShadow
could feel nothing but happiness for everyone involved.
Y’Roden had passed the scroll back to Lord Al’Teron and nodded an affirmation to Silverthorn
as the others filed in and took their places. A gesture on his part had the S’Hean Lord stepping
forward and unrolling the crisp parchment.
“On this, the fourth day of the first year of the Sword of Light, Y’Roden D’Riel, rightful heir and
Prince of Corin, recognizes his eldest biological son, Valin Alcarin D’Riel as his legal and
rightful heir to the Throne.” His footsteps brought him to stand before the Elen Princess then and
he bowed slightly. “You are Princess Summerlin Alcarin of Alcarinque, daughter of Gareth and
Delanna Alcarin, High Elder of your people and Mother of Valin Alcarin D’Riel?”
“I am,” Summerlin replied.
“Do you legally recognize Y’Roden D’Riel as the father of your eldest son and agree to the legal
binding of said son to the Throne of Corin?”
“I do,” she answered.
A quill was handed to Summerlin feather first and she was directed to a blank place on the
parchment. “Please append your signature here, Your Highness.”
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Append... such a funny little word, Summerlin thought to herself as she dutifully made her
signature and handed the quill back.
The dark haired elf turned to meet the young Prince’s gaze, and the half Elen straightened under
the scrutiny.
“You are Valin Alcarin D’Riel, son of Y’Roden D’Riel and Summerlin Alcarin born in the city
of Alcarinque, and at present, in your five hundred eighty-third year?”
“I am.”
“Do you accept the legal recognition of Y’Roden D’Riel as your biological father, and all of the
legal obligations that come with the claim on that blood?”
“I do.”
“Very well, sign here please.”
The quill shook slightly as Valin pressed it to the parchment, scribbling out his signature and
sealing his destiny.
Anaya squeezed her husband’s free hand gently. His hand hadn’t shook that much when he had
signed their wedding papers! She gently projected soothing across their bond, as well as joy, and
smiled to him. There, that wasn’t so painful now was it?
Not so painful at all, no, Valin sent back, caressing his wife’s soul and smiling down into her
Celtic eyes as Lord Al’Teron had the remaining occupants of the room sign the document in
Witness of the event.
When it was finished, the scroll was placed back in Y’Roden’s hand and he beckoned his son
forward. Without having to be told the young Prince released Anaya’s hand, removed his shirt,
and knelt before his Father. Revealed on his shoulder was the D’Riel crest, and it was that
marking in particular that was of interest at the moment.
“I, Y’Roden D’Riel, rightful heir of the Blood, recognize my biological son Valin D’Riel as my
successor to the Throne of Corin.” His callused fingers touched the top of his son’s head and the
tattoo on the young Elf’s skin glimmered, emeralds erupting from arcs of Aethyr and settling into
his skin.
Every D’Riel male bore such a mark, but only the heir apparent bore the emeralds themselves.
Three such marks were now in existence on the flesh of Y’Roden himself, Valin, and Fechine.
***
Bran pushed at the large doors that stood before them. With a slow creak of hinges they swung
open. The fair-haired elf stepped inside the Elven outpost and then glanced back at his
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companions. “Not the most prepossessing of places, is it?” he observed. “We probably ought to
have a look around. I’d like to make certain that we’re the only current occupants. We don’t
really need any nasty surprises. It’s going to be two or three days before the others catch us up
anyway so it’s not as if we don’t have time.”
Adarin stepped forward.
“Hardly welcoming,” the Elen king said quietly as he gazed around. “Perhaps we should pair up?
Go together as group?” he suggested. He just wasn’t up for being surprised.
Ghet considered. “We can spread out a bit. We won’t be so far apart the others can’t come
running if someone runs into trouble.” She shrugged. “It feels empty, but then everything does,
here.” She slipped an arm around the Elen king’s waist. She was increasingly worried about him,
though that was perhaps just... fellow feeling. “How’s your shoulder?” she asked quietly.
“It’s all right, painful but all right,” Adarin replied, giving Ghetsuhm a crooked smile. “Okay,
it’s a little numb at the moment.” He drew his sword and wrapped his other arm around Ghet’s
waist. Okay, they weren’t exactly spread out, but Adarin felt better this way.
Father and son stepped into the deserted outpost behind Ghetsuhm and Adarin, shoulder to
shoulder as their eyes scanned the outpost.
“The only traces of heat I see are vermin... rats, maybe.” Yarwin muttered, the pupils of his lapis
eyes widening then narrowing as he tried to focus on the scattered bits of thermal outlines.
Callan’s fingers tapped the hilt of the dagger at his hip... something didn’t seem quite right here.
This place had been here too long for SOMETHING to have not moved in and set up shop.
“I don’t like it... not one bit.” the Dragon rumbled and stepped to the left of Ghet and Adarin, his
eyes following Bran’s outline. A bare trace of a shadow on shadow scrabbled behind the forest
elf and disappeared before Callan could draw a knife.
“Badb Catha, something else is here... something in the darkness that has no body heat. Watch
your step.”
The fair-haired elf paused, nodding. “I know. There is something... wrong” he replied.
More scrabbling along the walls, more shadows slipped along and moved away, “What we
need...” Callan’s palm turned upright, “Is a little illumination...”
Yarwin eyes hadn’t missed the fleeting glimpse or the scratching, clicking sounds that crept
along behind them. Always he could see the motion from the corner of his eye, and as quickly as
he could look, the source of the sound vanished. Softly glowing eyes followed what he thought
was a wall, then noticed a large, white, yellow and orange thermal pattern. Something huge was
lurking just beneath a walkway overhead and before them.
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No... not one huge thing...hundreds of smaller...things, clustered together for warmth perhaps,
and certainly for safety.
“Light?” Yarwin’s head swivelled around as he peered around Ghet and Adarin. The Shai’ay’s
ears began to pick up on another sound, too high pitched for even most Elven kind...chittering
squeaks and trills.
“Callan...I don’t think...”
The sound of a torch blast echoed through the outpost as white flame leapt to Callan’s palm, and
the brilliance reflected of thousands of eyes, all of them in sets of eight as the source of the
scrabbling was revealed, then scattered in mass panic at the sudden, rarely seen light. The current
inhabitants were spiders, their bodies large enough to be cooked as Yule turkeys.
And they’d been in the process of surrounding the intruders when the light had flared high.
Cursing fluently, Callan drew back his hand, topaz eyes widened then narrowed, and the Dragon
Emperor tossed the fire out onto the flagstones of the outpost, scattering more of the black,
bristled arachnids, which disappeared into impossibly small cracks and gouges in the walls,
vanishing like smoke on the wind.
More fire was lobbed into the darkness as Callan stepped forward to stand next to Bran. “You
know, I hear big spiders like that taste like shrimp when cooked correctly...”
“I’ll take your word for it,” his son-in-law replied wryly. “Forgive me if I don’t want to
experiment with that concept, however.” The elf concentrated, drawing on the DragonFire that
he had yet to completely control. A ball burst forth, obliterating the bug in front of him.
Yarwin’s fingers crackled with electricity as he held his place and watched as the fire
temporarily banished those who’d tried to hem them in, then flicked his eyes back to the thermal
that he’d seen beneath the walkway. The sounds of leathery wings spread in unison suddenly
filled the air. The light had disturbed their lair...and hundreds of pure white bats dropped from
their roost and poured past the group, their shrill cries piercing the ever-green murk.
“DOWN! GET DOWN!” Yarwin tackled Ghet and Adarin, taking them to the stones as the
swarm flitted overhead and tiny talons sought to rake faces and yank hair.
***
Daggers made makeshift paperweights on the faded parchment map Y’Roden and several of the
others were gathered around. The table wobbled slightly, nearly upending a goblet of Mai’Tus
wine. As it was the liquid sloshed about and stained parts of the yellowed paper purple, drying
quickly in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the tent.
“All right. Twig, I want you to take the Amazons and a third of the S’Hean Rangers to the east.
Fadil, you will take another third and the Elen Rangers to the west. The North is already shored
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up with the Friesian Riders. I’ll take the final third, the Rangers from Ingraleis and whatever
force was brought in from the Diirlathe. We will be hitting Corin head on from this direction and
the Dragons will be needed to get over the walls.”
“I suppose the three of us should get started then,” Reece spoke up and gestured to Argent and
Sahar. “How long before you want us to report back?”
“By Zenith at least. We should all be taking shelter by then so it will be a good time to compare
notes.”
Argent and Sahar nodded in acknowledgement. The Elven bear stood with his arms crossed on
his chest, still watching the map. Sahar on the other hand only had one problem with everything
and that was the double suns and how bright they would be at Zenith, but otherwise kept her
mouth shut.
Fadil simply nodded shortly, without taking his eyes from the map. He was all business now,
determined to do his job by his King and have everything running smoothly. And quickly, really
quickly.
“What do you want me to do?” Silverthorn inquired quietly, glancing up from her study of the
map. The dark-haired elf was dressed in her usual practical attire. A sword lay near her feet.
Pregnant or not, she had no intention of being forced to remain behind whilst others fought for
her home.
“You’re with me,” Ro said simply. It was his way of saying he wasn’t going to shield her. The
King himself intended on being in the thick of the battle, he couldn’t expect his wife to do
otherwise. He had other reasons for his next orders though. “Melaina and Makilnar, you will be
staying with me as well. Culaelin, Gloraelin and Linnis, you are with Twig and the Amazons.
Valin, Anelain and Kalab, you will be going with Fadil. Now, let’s move out. The longer our
friends and family are in there with that monster… the less chance we have of getting them out
alive.”
Valin’s head jerked up and the young elf stared at his Father for a moment, his stomach
clenching when his thoughts turned to his little sister.
Mel eyed her uncle, suspecting he kept her close to keep an eye on her. Naturally, it grated on
her nerves, particularly as she wasn’t a child any longer. “We need to be prepared to handle
Mother as well. If Tallin allows her to unleash her powers, it could be devastating for all of us.”
She sighed; her eyes weary at the thought of fighting her mother. But she knew if it came down
to it, either she or Amilyn were the only ones who could face her and survive and Ami was just
too young.
Both Mak and Glory simply nodded, Glory looking at his twin brother. They sat together and
Glory felt a combination of excitement and anxiety.
Mak didn’t care who he was with and thought it was an honour to be under Y’Roden’s personal
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leadership. His expression was unreadable though as he listened to Melaina speak and he bowed
his head a moment before he turned away. It was time to get moving as far as he was concerned.
“Well it wouldn’t be the first time Tallin used a woman to fight his battles,” Y’Roden rumbled in
response to Mel. An’Thaya… Si’Lyen… he had quite a firm history of using others to do his
dirty work. “Alright, let’s move out.” The others dispersed in various directions and Y’Roden
scrubbed at his forehead for a moment before smiling at his wife. “Well then… let’s get to work
shall we?”
“Sounds like a good idea to me” Silverthorn replied lightly. Bending down, she picked up the
sword from off the ground and belted it around her waist. The weapon settled comfortably at her
left hip with the ease of long familiarity. Looking up at her husband, she kissed him gently on the
cheek. “And now to work” the dark-haired elf said. “There’s an unwanted tenant that needs to be
evicted.”
***
To the eyes of the gods, the portal that had finally opened looked like a monstrous tornado turned
on its side, the centre of its funnel opening the way between Aerdon and Whispin. The sucking,
screeching howl of wind and sand being sucked from one world to the other was deafening.
Thunder rolled across the sky, its vibrations rattling the hulls of the ships and brilliant bolts of
lightening skittered through the air, dancing across the sand sea, striking the tallest dunes with
explosions of sand.
“Gods, this is what its like to LIVE, Damara!...and it looks as though we have Father Wind and
Mother Desert sending us with their blessings....” Krassc shouted over the wind as he rejoined
his mate above deck, his eyes full of wonder, his blood electrified with adrenaline.
“If I didn’t know better, Krassc Dothrae, I’d swear you were an Eldredae that turned his back on
a throne to join the Elves of Night,” The Matriarch purred and slipped her arm around her chosen
War Duke’s waist in a rare show of public affection.
“Aye, and that’s exactly what I am Damara...The sand sea has been my home for ages now, and
I’ve never missed the Silmetaurea.”
Another sucking moan from the splitting sky between Whispin and Aerdon signalled the final
rending of the distance between the two worlds, and the vortex turned dark, shadowing the ships
before it, an open wormhole of swirling colours both awesome and forbidding.
“Let’s take a ride....” Damara arched her eyebrow in challenge, then released her hold on Krassc
and gripped the railing of the ship, nodding as she did so to the HelmsMaster to release anchor.
The suspensor fields of every ship gave off the smell of burnt ozone and their sails filled
completely as the winds grew even more. With speed borne of the gale that drove them, the
Armada was swallowed into the darkness; the portal sucking closed behind them.
The sudden absence of space and objects in one place and the emergence of that same space and
17
objects where they had never been before, gave off a sonic boom that would have flattened
anyone standing for miles around. The concussion could not have gone unnoticed, but to the
casual observer, all that could be seen was an exploding cloud of golden sand, wind and brilliant
hued lightening rolling forward across the Obsidian Basin. To those with Dragon Sight or Elven
blood, the unmistakable outline of hundreds of ships could be seen through the dust and debris
for mere seconds, then vanished like an elaborate mirage behind the veil of sand.
The immediate lurch of the freighters and larger ships as Whispin’s gravity threatened to drag
them over on their sides sent up an alarm amongst the entire armada at once. One of the pirate
guild ships, the Amber Dawn listed to the starboard side, then collapsed with a shuddering,
grinding groan to the black sands of the Basin, sending up a column of sand and hot air.
Whispin’s gravity was far more than expected, but what is gravity to a bird of prey? Damara had
not expected this, could not have anticipated it from the war-eagle’s memories and she went into
Admiral mode, her verbal commands open mentally to all ships.
“GET THOSE PANELS UP! ALL OF THEM...NOW!”
Frantic activity began on all ships, while the gold and now black sands swirled about them, the
whirring of machinery and gears groaning began below as the upper decks began to slide away,
sections of them rising, flipping over on jointed metal arms, revealing solar panels on the back
side of each section. More lurching and the ships began to right themselves, barely hovering
above the ground. The smaller ships had fared better, being lighter and more balanced, their
prows more streamlined. Skiffs shot across the sand to the fallen guild ship, collecting survivors,
scavenging gear and artillery alike. Nothing was wasted, nothing left behind to mark their
passage but the barest skeleton of the ship.
“GET THE SHIELDS UP! I WANT EVERYTHING WE HAVE OPERATING! DROP OUR
WATER; DUMP EVERYTHING WE DON’T NEED! SHUT DOWN THE SAILS! KEEP
THEM UP, BUT SHUT DOWN THE MOISTURE SYSTEMS! THE LAST THING WE NEED
NOW IS MORE WATER!”
Krassc bolted for the helm, staggering as the ship lurched again, barking commands and setting
the rest of the crew in motion. Panels slid open around the sides of the ships, black cannon
sliding into place, louvered vent doors flying open, releasing hot air from within the holds,
leaving the air rippling around them with exhaust. Antiquated laz-guns slid into view around the
decks, the low electric hum of the ancient charge packs coming to life joined the din of crewmen
and commanders alike. Water poured from open drains beneath the ships in rivers, sizzling as it
evaporated instantly on the suspensors and sent steam spiralling upwards, feeding the storm the
portal had generated and producing a massive thunderstorm. With the dumping of stored water
came greater altitude and speed, the ships finally adjusting to the increased gravity. The short
burst of rain over the desert sky began to calm the swirling sands, causing them to settle and sent
up ribbons of steam...
And when those sands had settled, only the barest hint of distorted air gave away the presence of
the armada that was crossing the Obsidian Basin and fast approaching the shores of ravaged
Corin.
18
“Y’Roden D’Riel, rightful heir of the House of D’Riel and friend to Callan Blackthorn...I am
Damara Dothrae, High Matriarch, and you have the Strength of Mother Desert at your
service.... The Eheiling Nahrn of the Diirlathe await your command...”
***
Linnis exited the tent, an impassive look still on her face. It had taken all of her self-control not
to give an opinion about what they were about to do. It was a good thing she could take her
frustrations on some damn Nuru’kh-ai. A sigh escaped her lips. What the hell am I going to do? I
seem to have won their trust, but what now, where do I go from here? I must be patient, pity it’s
not one of my most redeeming qualities. The way Ro and Silverthorn acted made her sick. The
pair were as bad as each other, they had no idea of how to rule people. The half-elf sat on a
nearby rock. Unsheathing her sword, she took a small wet stone from her pocket. Delicate
fingers ran the stone forward along the blade. No matter how well you rule, your people always
betray you. Her rhythm increased, anger building. She had been driven out of her rightful home,
just because she wasn’t aging. The inhabitants were scared, and it was their fear that had driven
her out of Amar’a. One day she would return, one day. The blade sliced across her forearm, a
crimson line appearing, the blood beginning to well up. “Damn it” she cursed, quickly wrapping
her injury with a piece of cloth. If only Nuuruhuine were here, she’d guide me.
***
How long had they been gone? Mira had lost track of time here on Whispin. She’d been born on
a world that had thirty-six hour days, and had spent time in recent years on worlds that had far
less. Time slipped away from her in Nenlante, and after Y’Roden, Silverthorn, and the others had
left to reclaim Corin, the silence was deafening. Slender, too pale fingers slipped along the cool
stone walls of the palace as the dragon-elf wandered down the corridors of the tower overlooking
the Airdocks her father, her brother, her husband had left from. Jade eyes peered out over the
morning mists as Mira Badb Catha watched yet another sunrise without her bondmate.
“Bran...where are you?” the dragon elf whispered, almost silently, and continued to stare at the
dock, her gaze becoming vacant.
He’s not coming back...None of them are...
Painful scrabbles etched at Mira’s soul, doubts and fears lurked in the corners of her mind,
waiting for the light that held them at bay to flicker and die. The light of hope was all that held
them back, all that kept her from tilting into her Black blood and losing herself in the Roesor
d’Viggtuii, the madness of grief and loss. Bran still lived, and in her mind, Mira knew it, in her
heart, she knew it, but her soul still felt the loss of that which had been so much a part of her for
so long. The mere threads that remained were only enough to tease her, but she clung to them
with desperation, praying she could survive the length of time needed for him to come back.
Every hour spent here with him gone brought her closer to the edge, further from her sanity.
She’d felt herself loosing control, wanting to lash out at Muirne for asking one too many
19
questions that had already been answered numerous times. She’d watched her own sire go down
this path only moments after Task had left her life behind, he’d stayed for her, for the Throne, for
the Diirlathe, and had become a far worse tyrant for it than his own sire had been.
The dragon-elf had yet another problem, one that was possibly permanent. Her right wing
refused to open and not being able to spend time in the air away from anything but the pure
thoughts of flight ate at her, added to her misery.
Those same pale fingers tightened around the ivory railing of a balcony as Mira sought to force it
open, and was rewarded with a blinding flash of pain for her efforts, a gasp of pain escaping her
as she pressed her forehead to the cool stone rail and tried once more, an attempt that ended with
a scream of Rage and frustration...and gave the vicious echoes in her mind a stronger hold on
her.
She was slowly being suffocated, like a mouse the grips of a python, and every exhalation
seemed to allow the black coils of agony and fear to wrap tighter.
A small pale hand covered the Dragon Elf’s where it lay on the railing, belying its frailty with a
reassuring squeeze. “Bran is alive Mira, if he were not, An’Thaya would have opened the portal,
or Argent would have said as much. The bond between the twins transcends the power of time
and dimension.” A gentle smile tugged at Se’Liene’s mouth and highlighted the lines that had
appeared around her eyes.
“Oh...aye...I know here...” Mira’s fingers of her free hand brushed her forehead as she
straightened, her jade eyes shifting back from the glassy pools of pale, moss green they were
trying to become to the vivid jade they were supposed to be. “But the soul still feels the loss...”
Her brows knitted slightly together as her eyes met Se’Liene’s
“Hang on to light and hope…” emerald jewels hazed over for the space of several heartbeats, the
Queen Mother falling silent and swaying unsteadily in place. When she spoke again, her voice
was filled with a sense of wonder, “let them guide you … for some day, Hope will depend on
you for survival. Somewhere… on the horizon … where light mingles with a dream…”
Shaking off the vision the S’Hean Elf let the smile return, “Come my dear, I have something to
show you. It may help stave off the madness a little.”
Good gods...this woman had lost so much in such a short period of time, and Mira was almost
ashamed of herself for falling prey to the madness so easily. Suddenly, Mira saw before her not
the Queen Mother, but the wife of Derwin D’Riel, a S’Hean who’d dared love a mortal, a human
no less. She saw a woman who’d lost children, grandchildren, a home, a life, and still lived,
fought to stay alive for her son and daughter, as well as those trapped in Corin.
Hope was all that kept this woman alive for the time being, and in the glimmering of a moment,
by accident or the design of the Fates, their hearts beat at the same moment and Mira saw this
woman’s soul, its tapestry slowly unravelling, the rich threads dissolving slowly into
nothingness, and with each thread that disappeared, there was a brief spark of light, of no colour
20
and yet of all colours. The effect was like looking through a prism as it winked in and out of
noonday sun. Moments and memories in her life studded the weavings of her essence with joy,
sorrow, grief, trust and wonder. There had been moments when she’d touched a goddess,
touched the face of a newborn child with a shock of flaming red-hair, had clung to Derwin in his
last moments in sorrow and agony.
Mira heard her own voice choked with misery as she began unwinding herself from Se’Liene,
“Arminiea waits for you...she’s calling you home...and yet you remain. If you can stay, I can
stay.”
Carefully, treading as lightly as she could, the SoulHealer pulled herself away from the
crumbling soul, there was nothing she could do to repair this damage, Derwin had been her soulmate, and to try to heal her would not only be an effort in futility, but a gross infraction of trust.
A single shaking hand wiped tears from her face and scrubbed her eyes as if to erase the residual
memories of the Queen’s life, a shaking sigh of breath slid from the dragon-elf’s body as she
opened her eyes.
“I’m sorry...I...sometimes my gift gets away from me.” She muttered and nodded her head
slowly. “Aye...show me...”
...let them guide you … for some day; Hope will depend on you for survival. Somewhere… on the
horizon … where light mingles with a dream…
What had the S’Hean woman meant? Mira couldn’t begin to guess, and had found, over time,
that pondering prophecy and visions would seldom, if ever, yield fruit until the moment the fruit
was ready to fall from the vine into ones lap. Still, the words haunted her, and Mira knew she’d
not forget....
***
Rani had spent most of the time trying to avoid Lord Rhodry while the airship delivered them.
Every time he even looked like he was coming her way she’d move elsewhere until he’d finally
cornered her. She had been so insufferable at that point she wouldn’t blame him if he’d hit her.
Yet she would have summarily returned the favour if he had. Quite possibly it was the fact he
hadn’t gotten angry but seemed to enjoy rankling her that puzzled her so much.
She was losing a battle with her silver appaloosa just as they broke free of the dense trees to the
vista of an ancient castle perched among and above the trees. It was obvious that the trees had
been groomed in such a way to keep good shade but not too dense. Rani had let her thoughts and
the increasing heat distract her from how Telpe kept moving closer to Rhodry’s horse. She had
been constantly jerking the reins to keep herself from getting too close to him.
“Here we are,” the massive Merc’s voice suddenly broke the silence as they came within sight of
the Castle walls and his hand patted the sweaty withers of his Black Obsidian affectionately. The
horse snorted and bobbed his head as if in agreement, stomping a back hoof before moving
forward into the bright sunlight. A call went up from the ramparts and Rhodry waved the S’Hean
21
pennant he had been given, displaying the emerald green and black colours of the King. There
was a shout from the walls and the rattle of metal as the winch was released, slowly lowering the
drawbridge.
The blonde man’s single blue eye turned to focus on Rani and her mare, for the thousandth time
wonder what was up with the silver dappled horse as she tried to swing in close again. The blood
of the Obsidian nomad ran strong in his veins, which explained why the human male had lived
for several centuries. It also gave him a strong affinity for horses, and vice versa … but Telpe
was not an Obsidian Equine… which left questions. “Well, it looks like we are receiving a warm
welcome anyway,” he observed as the Black’s hooves clattered onto the wooden bridge.
“Uhuh...” was the only response The S’Hean guard offered his statement of their arrival. Her
livery punctuated the banner he waved. She had squared her shoulders almost without thinking
kneeing Telpe into a straighter path as she rode next to Rhodry through the portcullis into the
outer yard. Even after dismounting Telpe seemed to be trying to figure out this man and whether
or not to trust him so she kept trying to stay between Rani and Rhodry. In a way Rani was
amused by this side of her horse and figured she must have been testing the metal of the man on
the black with her antics along the way.
When the stable boys moved to lead Telpe away the silver equine bucked and bit at them.
Stepping into the fray of stable boys and horse Rani took back the reins causing Telpe to settle
immediately. “Look, just show me where your stables are and I will take care of her myself.”
Rani looked to Rhodry, “That is of course if it is acceptable to you My Lord Rhodry.”
“Oh far be it for me to get between a Lady and her horse,” the Mercenary responded, grinning at
her over his shoulder as he loosened the bit in his own mounts mouth. “I’ll join you. The Page
needs time to inform Lord Wyvern of our arrival anyway.” Drawing the reins over the Black’s
head Rhodry clucked to him gently then followed one of the young grooms through the
courtyard and out back to the stables. Years on the road as a man paid for his skill with the sword
had acclimated the tall blonde to taking care of himself and any animals in his care.
A short time later he had the Obsidian unsaddled and was brushing him down as the horse slaked
its thirst. “That is an unusual looking mare, where did you get her?”
Telpe was amazingly quiet while she slacked her thirst amidst her rider’s ministrations, which
had Rani not paying much attention to Rhodry while she puzzled out her horse’s odd twist in
behaviour. She mechanically had removed the tack from her horse and absently brushed the
sweat and dust from Telpe’s coat. It wasn’t until Rhodry finally spoke again that Rani jumped
causing Telpe to back step right on her foot.
“TELPE!” she yelped as she pushed her hands into the flanks of her mare extricating her foot.
“She was raised from my father’s stock and was a gift from him to me when I entered the service
of the Royal Guard. She’s a temperamental pain in the…” Rani was venting and as she did Telpe
sidled a bit and pushed the Elven warrior on her rump. Rani looked up from the stable floor
snorted and said, “Do you want her? I am considering getting rid of her.” None of which was in
the least bit true, she could not begin to imagine being without Telpe, but at the moment Rani at
22
least said it.
A wide grin lit Rhodry’s face and he chuckled softly, offering the S’Hean Elf a hand up just as
the page entered the barn.
“His Lordship will see you now,” the young human informed them, unable to stifle the snicker
when he caught side of the Captain of S’Hea’s Guard on her rump.
“Ah, thank you young sir,” Rhodry managed with a straight face, “We will be there straight
away.”
***
Shroudlings were a passionate people when it came to their favourite things, and a long-lived
race to the point that death had finally given up on taking them. It felt as though they had been a
live since the dawn of time, which wasn’t far from the truth. They had watched races die,
languages and secrets lost, and still they went on, recording it all in their books.
Baysen crouched as he stared off at the castle his mind elsewhere. He could imagine Shea with
her ink stained slender fingers scribbling away in one of the books on Whispin, archiving the
history that was unfolding before everyone. How many names would end up on the list of the
dead? How many of his fellow knight’s names would be recorded with grievous wounds and
disappear into the Mirror world?
Finally turning his attention to the dirt that he had in his hands, he shifted the soil from one hand
to the other, watching as it trickled between his fingers. He hated wars, had seen his fair share of
them, but he knew that his hatred would fade away as soon as he felt a horse beneath him, sword
in his hand, and the wind whistling pass him. The mere thought could make his blood boil with
as much passion as the sea or the books in the Great Library could. He knew that it was the same
for every one of his comrades.
“There is a peace that can only be found on the other side of war.”
“First Knight by Elizabeth Chadwick, a terra book, I believe.” Baysen replied, standing as he did
so to turn towards his brother. “What news?”
“King Argent, one of the natives, and the princess’ shadow has gone to mark out tunnels. The
Amazons and a third of the S’Hean Rangers are to the east,” Daylin pointed as he talked,
“another third and the Elen are to the west, and King Y’Roden is taking the last third, rangers
from Ingraleis and another force to the south. The scouts should be back by Zenith.”
Baysen nodded as he digested the news, “What plan have you to ride?”
The Shroudling Captain shook his head, “We will wait for Argent to return and discuss it with
him. What say you?”
23
“Cleats, definitely, the lads are testing to see about boots, they tested in S’Hea about how much
padding would be needed.”
Daylin nodded. “All we have left to do is wait.”
Baysen chuckled, “And I know how you love to wait, dear brother.”
***
Ghet was too scared to scream at first. That ended when Yarwin slammed into her and knocked
all the screams loose. She had just enough sense to jam her fist in her mouth so she didn’t blow
out Adarin’s eardrums, and then total panic took her. Her sanity was straining at the seams: she
was terrified of spiders. The fact that Galain was too didn’t exactly help. She curled up as tightly
as she could, crying and whimpering as she bled terror around her and through her bond.
Adarin’s sword hand had been crackling with energy and the spiders had been more than a little
unnerving. The bats were downright shocking. He grunted with pain when he hit the ground and
instinctively covered Ghetsuhm as best he could.
Galain sensed trouble from where he was... he’d been camping with Tay, Shadow and Ash,
intent upon Osto and what news it might provide. He hadn’t expected what he felt now and he
fell backward, his arms out flung. He stared upward into the dark and gasped for breath as he
tried to calm Ghetsuhm, signalling to Tay as he did so.
“Spiders,” was all he could say as he worked hard to find some seed for the peace he wanted to
spread to Ghet. He clasped Tay’s hand and held on, focusing and internalizing.
It’s okay. I’m right here. Not that far. Looks like really macho guys surrounding you. Love—all
that testosterone... he sent silently. He shook with her though. It was hard to laugh in the face of
one’s worst fears.
Swearing profusely, Bran dropped to the ground. Sharp little claws raked down his back and
pulled at his long, blonde hair. Rolling, he crushed the bat between his body and the hard floor.
DragonFire burst again from his fingers as he lay there. The swarm scattered as the fireball
exploded in the midst, charred bodies falling to the floor.
“Callan! The gates!” he exclaimed. “We can’t leave them open like this. We don’t know what
else is out there and I’m damned sure I haven’t liked any of this place’s inhabitants I have met so
far.” Pushing himself to his feet, the fair-haired elf hurried toward the huge doors that stood open
on either side of the yawning darkness of the entrance.
Ghet felt Galain’s touch, but it was so hard to listen to him over the roaring in her head. Her
laughter was high and hysterical. I will swap places with you. You can lie under all these nice
men. Her humour faltered as another wave of terror built, and she simply clung to him,
wordlessly, until something moved her hair and she had to choke back more screams.
24
Galain let out a whimper despite the distance between himself and Ghet and reinforced the
sensation of peace. It couldn’t be that difficult to work with the sheer fear she was feeling except
it was threatening to overtake him too.
And it was Adarin’s hand in Ghet’s hair and he was immediately apologetic.
“It’s me, it’s only me,” he told her urgently. “We need to get to our feet. Right now.” He pulled
her up forcibly and prayed his nephew had the sense to be doing all he could for the petite
woman right now. All the Elen king could do was keep a hold on Ghetsuhm and keep them alive
as the others moved quickly to close the gates.
Yarwin had given Adarin and Ghet a quick nod, rolled to his feet, releasing them in the process
and threw his shoulder into the door Bran was grappling with while Callan put his full weight
into the other door. The two massive constructions shuddered, fought the pressure, then began to
creak and groan as they slowly began to creep shut, finally closing with one final moan of
protest.
The pressure of Galain’s hand around hers grounded Tay in the reality of what was happening
miles away. She could clearly feel Adarin, who was thankfully a great deal calmer than
Ghetsuhm. The last thing the Amazon needed was naked fear coming at her from two directions.
As it was with Galain’s imbalance it was all the redhead could do to gather her wits and figure
out what was going on. Spiders? Oh for….
Jewelled emerald eyes fluttered closed and she focused internally, grasping for peace when there
was none in her heart. Frustration boiled in her blood and she swung around wildly in her mind
for something to hang onto… and found Agaru. The Crimson balked at first, unwilling to touch
on anything to do with the Golds, then finally gave in. If they didn’t calm Ghet, it put Callan in
danger and that, to the Dragon, was unacceptable. Grateful, An’Thaya latched onto the sensation
of utter peace her other self-emitted; images of sun drenched ledges, black scales, and open skies
flooding her senses.
Hold on Sy’Rish, Tay’s voice in Galain’s mind was a whisper, let me help… Gold and emerald
threads wound around one another and the Amazon let herself sink into their bond as the conduit
at the core of her spirit eased open. Magnifying Agaru’s gift An’Thaya fed it through to her
husband, filling them both with a soft bliss that clouded the senses, dulling the fear until it was a
mere shadow on the emotional plane.
Galain could only tighten his hold on Tay, immense gratitude surging through him.
Thank you; Love, he sent softly to her.
Ghet let Adarin move her, and concentrated on not fighting him. While the sense of peace the
others offered her was helping, stopping the fracture in her mind opening, holding on to her
husband while he felt so strongly of his other wife was suddenly a whole lot less attractive. She
gave herself a hard mental slap for being so stupid, and not taking what was offered no matter
what its source. She was too weak to be fussy. She remembered, too, when their positions had
25
been reversed, and she had tried to comfort Galain in the tunnels under Pompeii. He’d been
strong; she could be strong too. I’ll be all right, she told him shakily. Adarin will look after me.
Softly glowing eyes watched Ghet and Adarin as Callan and Yarwin turned. “She’s lost it...we
should sent her back.” Callan muttered and began walking across the flagstones, his hands
casting random balls of flame into the shadows and refuelling the already burning fires.
“You’d not be in much better shape, were you her.” Yarwin growled, an undertone of warning in
his voice. This place was wearing on all their nerves, and something more was eating at the halfShai’ay. Madness...it lingered in the corners of his mind, ate his soul. He missed Rachel’s voice,
the touch of it in his mind, the feel of her coppery red and gold soul tangled with his. He was
faring far better than his sister was, however, the Shai’ay were solitary people, rarely bonded and
that was his sole saving grace, the fact that his shape-shifter blood helped nullify the Madness.
“I’ll find something to burn, maybe some old furniture or something. We can’t keep using
DragonFire all night. Besides,” Yarwin’s lapis eyes brightened as he looked up at Bran. “He
needs the practice anyway. Now’s the time, wouldn’t you say Badb Catha?”
***
Lord Wyvern was a large, well-structured man with a shock of flame red hair, the genetic equal
to the flaming tresses of An’Thaya and B’Elya D’Riel. Their Grandmother had been Lady
Grayce Wyvern, a great Aunt of several generations back to the current Lord of the Wyvern
demesne. Being a direct relation the Corin throne his loyalty had never been in question, and he
welcomed Rhodry with the respect accorded to an equal.
“Lord Arketh, it has been many years since you have laid any claim upon your birthright.
Certainly a few centuries before my own birth,” he chuckled, “So tell me, old man, what brings
you to my home? You carry the standard of S’Hea… that is a bit unusual in itself. I take it you
have thrown your lot in with the right side then.”
“Was there ever any doubt?” the one eyed Mercenary asked, “My loyalty is and always will be
with the D’Riels. His Majesty has sent me to call on his Lords for aide in removing the usurper
Tallin Modar from the Throne that rightfully belongs to the D’Riels.” Seated at Gardor’s table of
honour, Rhodry leaned back comfortably in his seat and tipped back his stein of ale.
“He has it, or mine at least. It pains me to think that Wyvern blood flows in that Bastard Tallin’s
veins,” the Lord growled, “he is a blight on the family name, and on the honourable Modar name
as well.”
“Aye, he is at that. I’m surprised the D’Riel Clan hasn’t taken him out before this. But you know
them, blood is blood, they have trouble killing any of their own ilk… even if they deserve it.
Some of us,” he grimaced, “have no such moral dilemmas.”
Gardor’s smile faded and he nodded in respect to the blonde man, “You did the right thing
Rhodry. ‘Tis but a history lesson to such as I, but your sire as a tyrant, bleeding the land and his
26
people for power. Killing him set many things right, though things might be better in the lands of
Arketh if you would take up the mantle, as is your right.”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice, now do I,” Rhodry chuckled, “His Majesty has me over a
barrel this time.” The Mercenary winked at Rani, then laughed, “Forgive me, where are my
manners? Lord Gardor Wyvern, Lady Rani Al’Trekis, Captain of His Majesties personal guard.”
Rani squared her shoulders nodding respectfully at Lord Wyvern as she stood behind Rhodry’s
blind side as a protection. Having little expectation of trouble it still honoured Lord Arketh to be
shown such attention to duty in according him the same in his position of ambassador to the
King of S’Hea.
“A pleasure, Milady,” Gardor nodded in kind to the Captain and leaned back in his chair, the
back legs creaking beneath his weight. It was clear where Y’Roden had inherited his size from.
The Wyvern Clan grew their men sturdy. “I can, if you wish, call the other Lords here to
convene. It would make things easier I think, save you a bit of travel.”
Shifting his eye patch and scratching at the scar beneath Rhodry grunted in agreement, “I was
hoping you would suggest that. The others trust you. I know there are a few among them that
would side with Tallin. Those that would prefer a human on the throne to a half-breed, it would
be easier to deal with them off of their home territory.”
“Consider it done then. Please, Milady Al’Trekis, take a seat and have a drink. Enjoy my
hospitality while I send for the rabble that call themselves the Lords of Corin.” The front legs of
his chair came down with a bang and the muscle-bound Lord levered himself out of his chair.
“I’ll see to it that accommodations are provided for you as well. Gods, its good to have you
seated at my table as an equal, rather than in my barracks as a hired sword my friend.” He
grinned suddenly, “You are getting far to old for that lifestyle, it was bound to kill you sooner or
later.”
The Mercenary nearly snorted beer out his nose and he shot Lord Wyvern a pole axed look. “Old
indeed. I’m only two hundred and eighty years old, and I still look far better than you, old dog.”
Gardor’s bawdy laughter rang through the halls and he clapped a massive hand on Rhodry’s
shoulder, “Well, I’ll leave the results of that opinion to the Lady,” he said, with a wink in Rani’s
direction, “Now, if you will excuse me?”
Taking a seat one chair removed from Rhodry “By all means My Lord Wyvern, and your
hospitality is of course most welcomed.” Pouring a drink from the decanter upon the table Rani
sat back sipping the beverage as Lord Wyvern took his leave. Her face flushed as she tried not to
let on the fire that followed it to her stomach. “Seems he has your number, ‘Old Man’.” She
drawled for emphasis.
The human turned his head, shifting his blind spot so he could see the Elven woman. “Eh… he
probably does at that. I’m bound to slow down sooner or later.” With a sigh he reached up and
removed the patch covering his eye, revealing the jagged white scar that slashed across a dead
27
white eye. “Gods it’s hot,” he muttered, pushing sweat damp blonde curls off his forehead.
***
The journey Se’Liene led the Dragon Elf on led them into the depths of Windemiire itself, down
staircases and hidden doorways, until the smooth walls of the palace gave way to rock. “It is an
illusion, you see,” the S’Hean Elf said to her companion, “Windemiire does not truly float in
midair, it only appears to … and the crystal it was built from lends well to blending with the falls
themselves. On a bright day, we disappear altogether. Only the Royal family knows that this
place exists… and Ghetsuhm Alcarin. It was this path she walked with B’Rodyn to bring
Y’Roden back from the dead.”
The Queen Mother had not minded the glimpse into her soul. It was an honour to be remembered
so clearly beyond her death, as she knew she would be now. All the joy and pain, it would not
disappear, it would live on… if only in memory. “Our destination is quite different today
however,” she continued, “I use to play here as a child.” The sound of trickling water could be
heard in the darkness; a glimmer of emerald light softened the inky black they tread through.
The light grew, as did the expression of delight on the S’Hean Elf’s face, luminous eyes
reflecting the refracting light that danced off thousands of crystals lining the walls of a vast
cavern. Far above them could be seen the open sky and the top of a waterfall. Water splashed
around the rim of the opening and crashed down over the walls, playing a symphony upon the
emerald stones. It was the open chasm in the centre that drew Se’Liene however, and she led
Mira to the edge.
“Sweet Brighid...” Jade eyes grew wide as Mira peered up at the sky, then around at the
magnificent wonder of the chasm.
“What is this place?”
“We have never discovered the cause … though we believe this is the wellspring of Aethyr our
power originates from. It sings to me… I use to bring Y’Roden here when he was a very young
boy, and I came here often when I was carrying An’Thaya.” She laughed lightly and winked at
the half-elf, “It likely explains her fascination will all things be-winged.”
As way of explanation, she jumped, chestnut and silver hair billowing out as she fell for several
startling moments, then suddenly shot upwards, her filmy dress fluttering in an invisible updraft.
“For those of us born without the gift of flight … this is the best alternative to it I have ever
found.” Holding out a hand in invitation she laughed, a reflection of the carefree Elven child she
had once been, “It is perfectly safe… you will not fall… trust me.”
The Dragon-elf had let out a startled gasp and a cry of fear as the Elven woman leapt from the
edge of the chasm and vanished. Mira had the sensation of barely touching Se’Liene’s dress, the
feel of the silky fabric sliding away as she just missed grabbing the woman and she all but
slumped to the floor, her knees weak with relief as the Queen Mother reappeared, beaming like a
dragon child who’d just found her wings.
28
“Just jump?” Mira asked, then felt entirely silly. Of course, just jump...the proof was before her
that she would not fall. A delighted smile lit Mira’s face, possibly the first since the battle in
Corin, as a teasing eddy of air wrapped around her, rippled her linen shift and tugged at her hair,
almost in invitation.
“Aye...I trust...” Mira’s dancing jade eyes met Se’Liene’s emerald as she too leapt from the cliff
face without taking the offered hand, felt herself plummet, her black wings instinctively
spreading. The right wing still refused to open, but no longer did it matter. The Aethyr breeze
wrapped around her, caressed her skin, then slowed her fall. Giggles and peals of laughter
echoed off the walls of the cavern as Mira Badb Catha, a flightless dragon-child was lifted up,
held aloft and was able to once again find solace in the gift of flight.
Caught up in Mira’s delight the S’Hean Elf smiled and tossed her head back, closing glittering
emerald eyes and lifting her hands towards the sky. The air around them mimicked the shade of
D’Riel eyes as Se’Liene let her conduit flare open, letting the sheer power of the well shoot
through her soul.
Suddenly… they were no longer alone. Within the eddies and tides danced impressions of the
spirits that had gone on before. Some stronger, more tangible than others, echoes of their
laughter mingling with that of the living. B’Rodyn D’Riel solidified for a moment and winked at
Mira, a boyish grin lighting his features before he floated further up, whispering something into
the ear of his Dera before he disappeared. Chestnut lashed eyelids fluttered open as he drifted
away, focusing on the open space before her just as Derwin coalesced. The King’s bright blue
eyes sparkled as merrily as they had in life, his long red hair whipping about chiselled features as
he pressed non-existent lips to his wife’s.
“I’ll be along soon enough,” Se’Liene whispered, “I promise.” The spirit of her husband smiled,
then looked down, holding out his hand to a child that had materialized beside Mira. She had her
grandfather’s hair, and her Father’s sea-green eyes.
“Come along Tysane.” A giggle whispered through the Aethyr and the child of An’Thaya and
Galain Alcarin tugged playfully at Mira’s shift for a moment, before floating up to grasp
Derwin’s hand and disappear.
The floating dragon-elf had been reaching for memory of the girl, her eyes openly curious,
“Who then is this?” She’d asked, knowing who the girl belonged to, but not knowing Galain and
An’Thaya had lost a child, when a luminous pair of brown eyes settled before her face and
delicately build blonde haired woman floated before her, a soft smile on her youthful face. Shortcropped hair ruffled in the air currents.
“You’ve found the found the one that completes you, Mira Blackthorn, in ways I could not.”
Slender but callused fingers traced the line of Mira’s jaw and lips, then vanished.
“Do not lose hope...never lose hope. ...”
29
“Doste Iman...Mira Blackthorn...do not forget your Vanya Me’lianna, but more importantly, do
not forget your drago na’Da, she needs you more than you know...”
With a soft breath on her cheek, the vision was gone, but not the joy for having seen her one time
lover and Captain of the Orsha Une once more, in all the perfection the Aethyr could give her.
Sorrow had no place here, fear was forgotten, and hope filled Mira Badb Catha once more.
Bran would come back, Corin would be restored to the D’Riel’s, and someday, perhaps a long
time from now, a time when bonds were stretched thin and madness crept along everyone’s souls
would be forgotten, a nightmare they’d all shared, but had found the courage to survive together.
30
Chapter 2
Reece had gone his separate way from Argent and Sahar not long after leaving the base camp
tent, heading directly for Castle Corin. The Mercenary knew these lands well, had traveled them
often as a youth. Of course, back then; the place where the Castle was now had been a rather
large hole in the ground. He had died sometime before An’Thaya had brought her family back
from Tenobrous, and as such had only seen the actual building centuries later.
His unique gifts gave the dark eyed man the ability to move swiftly through the trees in utter
silence. Alone, he could travel at a dead run, phasing in and out of objects and completely
avoiding detection. It wasn’t the most comfortable sensation, but one that he had acclimated too
over time.
In the back of his mind he kept track of how many Nuru’kh-ai he passed, where they were
camping, what there general movements were, but his real mission was at the forefront of his
thoughts and eventually… he had to go underground. A friend in his youth had jokingly called it
his Earth Worm imitation, though it was somewhat more complicated than that. A complete
molecular adjustment of his cells allowed the SandShadow to drop into the dirt and rock that
comprised the upper layer of Whispin’s geological structure, the rich earth easier to move
through than hard rock at least.
Keen senses alerted him when the terrain changed, mapping out Corin’s foundation of hard
granite and following slowly, searching for the tell tale shifts in structure that would reveal the
tunnel opening.
Argent’s mind was fully on the task appointed to him. He shifted easily enough, an illusion to
those that didn’t know the sight of it, or perhaps an apparition from a long ago battle, returned to
relive his last moments for a land that he loved and gave his last breath for. No matter what, he
probably looked a sight and it drew a chuckle from him.
His ghostly form scattered on the breeze as he headed towards the castle. He seeped into the
earth, briefly enjoying the sensation before he moved forward, his eyes searching for what he
knew to be there somewhere.
Granite gave way to something quite different. The rotted wooden remains of what once had
been a barricade, and beyond, the airy sensation of an open tunnel. Pushing through Reece found
himself in a damp, musty corridor somewhere beneath the surface of Corin, the remnants of an
escape tunnel when the Castle had been in the depths of hell itself. Memories seemed to linger
here… dark whispers of a time even the ghosts preferred to forget.
“Let’s put you to a better use this time hmm?” the Mercenary murmured, fading again as he
stepped back into the earth, rising straight up through the ground so he could marker the tunnels
position.
Ghostly forest green eyes caught sight of a small piece of wood that looked out of place. His
fingers hovered just over the ancient wood as he moved them in a stroking motion. Gent could
31
barely feel the grains in this form. Turning he nodded to his companion.
“It is time.”
Nodding, the shadow being drifted up to the surface taking a small piece of the wood with as she
went to mark the way. Sahar raised her face towards the sky as she waited just below the surface
for a passing cloud to hover over where she was. The wished for shadow came and she shot out
of the earth, Argent close behind her.
“You mark that side,” he started, pulling a dull finished dagger from his boot, “And I’ll mark this
side.”
***
The reception the four companions received in Osto was about as warm as the one at the first
settlement they had stopped at. An’Thaya’s hand was dripping fresh blood by the time they were
let in through the heavy doors and her face was pale beneath the flickering light of the watch
fires. She looked hale and healthy next to the denizens of this place however. Milky white eyes
with huge dark pupils stared out of pasty grey complexions or were lost entirely beneath mops of
ivory hair. It was difficult to believe that these had once been the people of Corin … as human as
Thaya’s father had been.
Emerald eyes studied the gathering crowd warily and for some reason she hovered close to
Galain’s side. “We are looking for information,” she told the guard that had let them in,
following along as he led them through the close streets between the squat houses, “the
movements of the Nuru’kh-ai and the Wyrms… news of Samara, anything you might be able to
tell us.”
The town was fairly large, a cluttered of ramshackle buildings hunched in close to the foot of a
small mountain range that embraced it in rock and green mist. Their escort let them to what
seemed to pass for a tavern and gestured for them to enter before he spoke, his voice a gravely
whisper in the low light of the room.
“Your Highness… the Scouts have not yet returned from their latest foray. They are due back at
the start of the cycle. You may dine and rest here if you wish, until their return.”
Frustration was evident in the Amazon’s demeanour, but she merely nodded an assent and sat
down stiffly at the table the albino indicated.
“Thank you, you are most kind sir.” Her tone was calm, but the number of eyes focused on the
four of them was unnerving. Especially herself and Galain… the bright colours of their hair and
eyes like a flame to the moths these people had become. They had yet to try to touch either of
them… but Tay had a feeling it would come to that eventually. It made her extremely
uncomfortable, and she was having a difficult time restraining the urge to bolt. The dinner
suddenly dropped on a plate in front of her did nothing to calm her nerves, leaving her staring
rather blankly at what appeared to be a baked spider.
32
Shadow eyed the food on the Amazon’s plate and turned to grin at Galain. “You should fit in just
fine here.” She quipped, keeping her tone light. “Now wouldn’t be a good time to decide to try
playing with your food... would it?”
The forest elf resisted the urge to glare at the strangers around them. She had never been exactly
comfortable around humans, and the current situation wasn’t helping. Her eyes shifted about the
room as she pulled a relatively small dagger and began tossing it from one hand to another in a
nervous habit.
Galain gave Shadow a cross-eyed look and then eyed his dinner with no small amount of dismay.
“It has a lot of legs,” he noted, trying not to shudder. He leaned in close to his wife and kissed
her. “Want one of them?” he asked, trying to poke politely at the food, but completely unable to
bring himself to take a bite. He looked at their hosts and felt one draw in close behind them. His
spine crawled as he waited, wondering if the awaited touch would come now.
“I have this incredible urge to stand up, scream and run for the hills,” he told Tay in a low voice,
wrapping an arm around her. “Just slap me if that happens. Or run with me?” He accidentally
snapped one of the legs off his dinner and stared at it. “How long do you think the scouts will
be?”
Shadow poked at her own food with the dagger that she had some how managed to stop tossing
for a little bit. “You can always think of it as a de-clawed, belly-up crab.” She offered helpfully
before tossing the dagger back and forth again.
Galain appreciated Shadow’s bizarre sense of humour and wished he’d have been able to share it
a day ago when Ghet’s terror over what the others had run into had seeped through their bond.
He still didn’t appreciate the dinner.
An’Thaya stared at the broken off leg in Galain’s hand and swallowed hard. “We have no way of
knowing. We can only wait.” The Amazon jerked against her husband violently as a hand
touched her soft crimson curls, a sharp intake of breath near the Elen’s ear betraying her slight
sense of fear. Lithe fingers stopped just short of her daggers and she drew a steadying breath.
They meant no harm… right? It was just her natural aversion to an unwanted touch. “I think… I
think we should eat,” a slight tremor in the redhead’s tone betrayed her unsettled mood, “Then
perhaps we can find someplace private and get some sleep.”
Galain could only nod before he attempted to eat the food. He knew he was eating a spider and
he was vastly unhappy about it. The stuff they were drinking wasn’t much better—brackish, stale
water that hardly helped the elf choke his meal down. But he did his best, giving a pained smile
of approval to one of their hosts. Occasionally there was a tug at his hair, a light touch on his
shoulder and he would freeze in mid-chew.
33
Finally he just shoved the plate away.
“Please don’t ever make me eat something like that again,” he muttered to Tay. He was eager to
escape the curious eyes and tentative touches and blot this place out with some sleep.
“You can count on it,” the Amazon said in a small voice, her face white. Ash, however, seemed
completely unperturbed by the meal and Tay watched her in abject fascination for a moment
before their host reappeared and indicated that they should follow him. “Just hope that dinner
doesn’t have any small friends that live here,” she muttered to her husband as they got up to
follow. The diminutive woman’s pace was slightly hurried; eager to get away from the tentative
fingers that kept brushing against her.
***
The sizzling crack of a portal being born was drowned out by the sound of high winds, and as the
vortex opened there was a whoosh of high suction as the calm overheated climate of the Base
Camp met the disturbed air on the border of Corin and the Obsidian basin. Y’Roden’s head was
bent as he urged his mount through the opening, one hand held up in front of his face as he
squinted into the wind.
“What the hell is that?” he inquired of the S’Hean Ranger at his left flank. The longhaired Elf
shook his head as best he could and cast a glance as his three peers as they emerged behind their
King. Perhaps the stress was getting to Y’Roden already, because the four of them saw nothing
that resembled ships on the horizon. Then again, with the massive sandstorm in progress, it was
impossible to see more than black clouds of sand.
“Seems to be a storm Your Majesty.”
The look Ro cast in the other Elf’s direction was long suffering, emerald eyes glittering as the
chestnut fringe of hair between them flailed wildly about. “I can see that, I mean, what caused it.
There are never storms this close to the border.”
From her perch on the deck of the mother freighter, Damara watched as four riders appeared in
the far distance. Her naval officers, as were all on board every vessel, were taking turns gaping at
the sparkling stretch of water that separated the Obsidian Basis from the coast of Corin. Those
who’d looked all the cared at the lapis waters went back to work, ancient weapons needed care
and priming, some solar panels had stuck half open, others had failed to charge. The ships were
old, so old that none here knew when they’d first skimmed the sand seas, but they were serving
their original purpose...that of warfare, not trade.
“Y’Roden D’Riel?” Damara queried across the rapidly diminishing distance, impressed he’d
come himself rather than send a lackey. The swirling sand storm began to settle, leaving naught
but a slight haze, something that could easily be overlooked as heat waves across the black
sands.
“I repeat, you’ve the strength of the Mother Sands at your command. Where would you have us?
34
Damara chuckled softly then cocked her head as her War Duke approached, his face flushed with
barely hid excitement.
“Well Krassc...we now know the cloaking shields work. How close should we get before letting
him see us?” Dark eyes sparked with wicked mirth as she peered at her mate.
“Damara...don’t you think he’s had enough to drive him mad lately?” Krassc Dothrae stepped
beside his High Matriarch and watched the four riders, now less than a kilometre away.
“I’d at least suggest we not fry his mount with our suspensor field first.” The Eldredae-gonenative muttered. The barest nod from Damara indicated they were to slow as she turned to the
Helmsman.
“On my mark...drop your shields...all of them then lay anchor.”
As the ships came to a stately halt, the Matriarch lifted one finger, and as one, every Eheiling
Narhn ship became visible, their hulls hovering just above the sands, the space between sand and
hull crackling with the energy of the suspensor fields. Massive bowl shaped anchors dropped on
chains large enough to be a man’s thigh, hit the black soil, spraying sand into the air.
Damara whispered teasingly to the Prince of Corin, “Surprise...”
“Aire Rilme,” Ro breathed, his jaw going slack as the ships revealed themselves, it had been a
very, very long time since he had sailed the Mother Sands and the ships themselves would never
stop giving him a sense of awe. The well-trained horse beneath him snorted, shuffling its hooves
but not moving as the great anchors pounded into the sand, covering the riders with a fine spray
of black granules.
Indeed, he responded, craning his neck to look at the woman who stood several stories above his
head. I am Y’Roden D’Riel, King of S’Hea. Welcome to Whispin. Your help is well received, and
would be most useful to the North on the open farmland. The unexpected alliance swung the
odds somewhat more in the D’Riel Clan’s favour and the half-elf found himself quietly thanking
whatever twist of fate had twined the Blackthorn’s fate with that of his own family. Something
that, in later years would perhaps prove to be as much a curse as a blessing.
***
Galain was rather relieved when they were shown to a private room. He’d waved to Ash and
Shadow and then ushered his wife inside, closing the door firmly behind them.
“What do you mean smaller cousins?” he asked, not having spoken since rising from their meal.
He stared around, immediately suspicious and ready to zap anything that skittered, scrambled or
skedaddled. And then he spied his pack.
“Yes!” the elf exclaimed, moving quickly to open it and rummage through his belongings. A vest
35
flew one way, a tin coffee cup the other way and then he crowed with joy as he pulled out a
leather bag and opened it up. Without pausing to explain he tipped his head back and poured half
of the bag’s contents into his mouth, chewed and then stared wide-eyed at his wife.
“Beans. Coffee. Want some?” he asked, holding out the bag. Straight beans were far preferable
to what he’d just suffered through and he was eager to remove the taste from his mouth. He
crunched loudly, swallowing and grimacing over the bitter taste. Almost immediately the
caffeine hit his system and his wide-eyed expression grew slightly glazed.
An’Thaya ducked the cup as she opened her own pack, only half aware of what Galain was
doing as she fished out a Mai’Tus fruit and fairly ripped the rind off of it. Biting into the juicy
flesh she moaned in near ecstasy, then finally turned her emerald-eyed gaze on her husband.
“Just beans? Gods… that was awful… those poor people.” Without thinking the Amazon stuck
her small hand in the bag and pulled out a small handful of beans. Popping them into her mouth
she made a face as the caffeine loaded pellets crunched between her teeth.
“Awful… just … disgusting,” she mumbled, “want some fruit? Gods Love… are you alright?” A
slight tremulous shaking had seized the redhead’s frame and it wasn’t a result of the coffee. Half
laughing, half-crying, Tay sat down hard on the even harder bed and winced, “Can things get
much worse?”
“Oh! Fruit! Yes, please!” Galain plopped down onto the bed and immediately gasped. “I think I
just cracked my tailbone.” He gave Tay a loopy grin as the caffeine continued to do its job and
he attempted to bounce on the bed.
“Nope, it can’t. From here it’s just on up. Okay? The scouts are going to be back before we know
it, we’ll get the information and then we can get moving and get out of here.” He snagged some
of the fruit and groaned with delight when the sweet taste hit his taste buds. Then he made a face.
Coffee beans and Mai’Tus fruit was a truly... fascinating taste experience.
“Okay, I can’t stay still any longer. I have to do something,” he said, jumping from the bed and
bouncing on his feet. He turned around, pulled Tay to her feet and twirled her around. “Dance
with me? We can tango. Let’s tango. Tango with me, love,” he chattered as he dipped her and
nearly hit her head on the bed.
Despite herself, An’Thaya squealed in fiendish delight and giggled. “A girl just can’t enjoy a
mopey mood around you can she? I think there are quite a few reasons to be feeling sorry for
myself right now… thank you. Including a near concussion.” Emerald eyes sparkled with mirth
and she wrapped a shapely leg around one of his, “Careful now. You do remember what happens
when we tango? And where in this gods forsaken place are we going to find a rose?”
“Nope, no mopey snopies allowed with me. And I rescued you from the concussion because I’m
kind and loving and oh-so solicitous,” Galain replied before he snatched up the half-eaten
Mai’Tus fruit and popped it into Tay’s mouth before biting into it as well.
How’s that for a substitute? He asked, the expression in his eyes completely manic now.
36
“Mmmuuufy!”
Erm… juicy, she chuckled, chewing her way through the fruit to his mouth. We shouldn’t have
eaten those beans… we are never going to get any sleep. The expression in Galain’s eyes was
rather worrying and the Amazon giggled helplessly into his lips. I love you, oh solicitous one.
Oh hells, who needs sleep? It’s all the same around here anyway. We’re just going to create our
own bit of sunshine for a bit. Okay? And I love you oh juicy one. Now! Let’s tango!
Galain grinned against the fruit, certain his head was going to explode at any moment. He’d
pretty much depleted his supply of beans and would have to go into serious caffeine withdrawal
after this.
It was rather a relief to think of such silly little things, he thought to himself as they proceed to
tango, dancing to music only they could hear in their heads. Of course occasionally the music in
Galain’s head turned into a mad little polka and that meant a few crashed into the walls and
against the bed, but hey, the smile on Tay’s face was more than worth a few bruises.
***
The Rangers stationed on Ingraleis had been trained in many situations, but right at this moment,
a few were wishing someone had warned them that arriving on Whispin was like having a hot,
wet rock dumped on your shoulders. Luckily, they usually acclimatized quickly, and most were
working on this at this moment. The small band that had been present when Calab was killed
were off in one corner, discussing something quietly. Jenni-Kaye had arrived with them, but
stayed in S’Hea with Anaya, ostensibly because she wasn’t battle trained, but in reality, because
all were afraid of what would happen to the Ranger Princess should harm come to her husband...
Mak watched the one group with curiosity, aware of their loss, but completely outside of their
camaraderie. He wanted to go to his uncle and ask what he should expect, but he felt that might
be jumping rank a bit and so he stayed where he was, just one of many, ready to go at a
moment’s notice. He eyed the various Rangers from S’Hea and Ingraleis and thought about the
Elen Rangers.
He shoved those thoughts aside except for comparisons amongst Rangers. He felt a sinking
sensation as he realized he had so much to learn.
Melaina sat up in a tree, waiting for it to be time to strike. Her eyes sought Mak and she frowned
a little at the expression on his face. She’d been being very self-centred, thinking only of what
she risked and that she knew more than her Daro thought she did and hadn’t realized that Mak
was struggling with issues of his own. Her eyes were sombre as she hopped out of the tree,
landing with a cat-like grace and resting a hand on her younger brother’s shoulder. “You alright
Mak?” She didn’t know if he’d talk to her or not, but well, all she could do was try to be the
sister she should be...
37
S’araia stood with the Rangers, a few of her own guard behind her. She felt their loss deeply,
having spent a good deal of time with them from the marriage of Brianna and Jason. Ingraleis
was a second home to many of the ranger recruits, and S’araia often visited them when she had
the time. She was doing her best to help acclimate them to the climate, but well, she was still
doing that for herself as well.
Those of the Diirlathe while experiencing the weight of the heat about them found it not as
overbearing as perhaps another might. Living in a world dominated by dragon kind heat always
seemed to be a part of their existence. While Akavian held himself and those blacks with him
back from full sight so as not to become a means to prematurely alert those of their enemy, he
also gave those humans and others of the foot troops that he’d summoned what orders necessary
to prepare them for the strike when the time came. Most of this elite guard had already known
the aid of dragons to advance their efforts as well as the hazards that accompanied them. Being
of the front line offensive tended to make one more at risk for fatality. It also afforded one the
element of surprise and thus the upper hand if executed flawlessly. Akavian awaited the alert to
move his flanks forward as well as the many as would permit the dragons transport them.
***
A dust covered King of S’Hea had ridden back into Camp just after dinner. He had managed to
sleep through Zenith, before riding out to meet the Sandships, but Ro still looked tired and worn
by the time he dismounted and tossed the reins to a waiting Ranger. Eight hours till suns down,
and then the Dragons would start digging where the tunnels had been marked out. Between the
beast’s infrared vision and S’Hean sound dampening spells, he was sure they would make good
time. Even so, by his calculations, the need to move slowly and stealthily meant it would take at
least two full nights to dig all the way through. That meant tense troops that had to be kept
occupied during the day.
Pushing aside the tent flap, the chestnut haired elf paused to shake the black sand out of his
clothing before shrugging out of the harness that strapped his bastard-sword to his back and
tossing it on top of the map unrolled across the table. “Well,” he said to his wife, joining her at
the table where a late dinner was waiting for him, “We have a rather large ally moving in from
the Obsidian Basin. The Eheiling Narhn, they have brought an Armada… I have to admit, I’ve
never seen anything quite so… impressive.”
“An armada? Doesn’t that imply ships?” Silverthorn asked with a certain amount of surprise.
“Not that I’m complaining. We could do with all the help we can get to be honest.” She leaned
across to kiss him and then grimaced slightly. “You’re all sandy,” she muttered, brushing at his
face.
“Very big, very mobile ships,” Ro confirmed, “they… float, above the ground. They don’t have
balloons like the ones in S’Hea though, they have sails like a marine vessel but they seem to
work on solar power. Which means they should clip along here really. I’ve placed them in the
open farmland with the Friesians… they should arrive there sometime tomorrow or the next
morning I should expect. I left a couple of Rangers with them to guide their progress.” He glance
ruefully down at his clothes and sighed, “Mmmhmm, sand everywhere… gritty… Just let me eat
and then I’ll get changed.”
38
“Take your time. There’s no real hurry,” Silverthorn said as she rose to her feet. Walking across
to him, she hugged her husband around the shoulders. “No-one can really do anything except
attempt to go unnoticed until it gets dark anyway. Have something to eat and I’ll see if I can find
you some water to have a wash with.”
“You,” he rumbled lovingly, “are a Goddess.” Callused fingertips caressed his wife’s jaw line
and he drew her down for a kiss before releasing her again. “I love you Arianne.” The same hand
drifted down to briefly flicker across her abdomen and a smile quirked the King’s lip before he
turned his attention back to his plate.
“Hardly a goddess” the dark-haired elf replied with a laugh, “but I love you too.” That smile of
his stayed with her as she made her way outside the tent. In these troubled times those smiles
seem to have become all the more precious to her, and she hugged it close to her heart.
***
The East Quadrant was thickly forested, making a proper camp rather difficult to achieve.
Fortunately the troops making up the bulk of the force were either S’Hean or Amazon, so living
amongst the trees, or even in the trees was not much of a problem. Twig was a natural leader; he
hadn’t come upon his station as Captain of the Guard by accident. He carried himself with the
ease of a man comfortable with his command and seemed unafraid of what the war might bring.
He kept a close eye on the two royal charges in his care, and a rather jaundiced eye on the one
named Linnis.
The day had been hot and sticky, nothing unusual for Whispin weather, except Cully usually
preferred to spend his afternoons in the lake with his wife and daughter. He was missing his Wil
badly and nerves were starting to build over the battle to come. Quiet and withdrawn he spent
most of the dragging hours with his twin, taking reassurance in the company of the person he had
been closest to since they had been conceived.
As for Shali, she was comfortable enough taking orders from the S’Hean Captain and moved her
Amazon sisters accordingly. She regarded Linnis with a quiet curiosity, sensing a bit of a kindred
spirit in the warrior woman, but did not approach her.
Linnis had noticed the various eyes watching her, and was not entirely surprised. After her
outburst at the Council she could understand some of the looks she was getting. The half-elf
knew she had to watch her step, should anyone suspect anything. There was a dark pair of eyes
watching her, the Amazon warrior. Linnis had never met the girl and wondered what fascination
she held. Maybe making friends among the troops would be a good idea. Walking over to the tall
dark woman Linnis put on her best smile, “hello, Shali isn’t it?”
“Aye, Shali Nightfall,” the Amazon responded, looking the other woman over for a moment,
“You are welcome to join us if you like,” she offered, gesturing toward her sisters. Somehow,
Shali got the impression that Linnis would be more comfortable among the humans than the
S’Hean Elves.
39
“Thank you I would like that” Linnis said accepting the Amazon’s invitation. It wasn’t only that
she would be more comfortable with the humans, but the fact that they were women also helped.
“I’m Linnis,” she said introducing herself to the Amazons, becoming calmer in female company.
“Could do with a decent swim,” Glory had unconsciously echoed his brother’s wishes. He
wondered what Galen was up to at the moment and profoundly glad the child was safely far
away from all of this. His son was the reason why Glory would do nothing outrageously
heroic—or would that actually be... stupid. He grinned to himself and then wished his hair was
long enough to tie back. The sticky humidity was just a bit much today.
Cully chuckled and scrubbed at the back of his neck, pushing sweat damp hair away from his
skin, “I bet the Elen Rangers are wishing for a block of ice about now. Gods… lets find a shadier
spot. That tree over there looks promising.” He paused, “Isn’t this the quadrant Valin and Mak
ran into the Rock Troll in?”
Glory was chuckling over the Elen Rangers and their discomfort before his eyes widened and he
looked around.
“You’re right, I think so,” he replied before he suddenly grinned. “You think we’ll find one
too?”
Cully’s sea-green eyes lit with a glint often seen in his Father’s when mischief was afoot. “Well,
you never know. It would certainly break the monotony of just sitting here … waiting.” With all
the passion of youth, the elf was ready to fight for the home of his human ancestors.
***
It was a good thing the servants came when they did to escort Rani and Lord Arketh to their
accommodations. The Elven ranger was getting very close to draw a sword on the very man she
was charged to escort. Once behind doors though she stomped about reeling off invectives that
had the servants steering clear of her. “That pompous arrogant egotistical self-inflated...” she’d
run out of words to use and started throwing pillows or other soft items at doors chairs or anyone
foolish enough to cross her path. It might have been harder things but this wasn’t her own rooms.
She had finally settled down enough to bathe and was dressing for the up coming meeting.
“My Lady its time to go, the meeting starts shortly and Lord Wyvern has sent me to escort you.”
“Just sit for a few minutes” came the short reply “I’ll go when I am completely ready to go.”
Rani put the finishing touches on her attire, nodded to the nervous servant and followed him in
silence.
Once at the doors Rani squared her shoulders lifted her head high and gracefully entered the
room. No longer dressed as a ranger but as Lady Al’Trekis in a long gown of deep green velvet
that conformed to her figure like it was part of her the full skirt swished softly as she walked in.
The sleeves came down her arms to just below her elbows then blossomed into a fall of soft
40
fabric. Her red golden hair was loose cascading down her back and slightly over her shoulders;
elegant combs pulled the sides back from her face. The neckline of her gown was sculpted
tastefully low with the barest hint of the fullness of her cleavage. About her neck was a torque of
finest silver that hung from a crafted chain emblazoned with her family crest and that of S’Hea.
B’Rodyn had commissioned it as a welcoming gift for her in what now seemed a lifetime ago.
About her hips was a silver girdle that she wore her sword from. She was Lady Al’Trekis here
and now but also she was a ranger and never would consider leaving one for the other now.
“Begging your pardon sirs, but the situation in Corin is dire and His Majesty sent me here to
keep you abreasts…” Rhodry stopped mid sentence to stare openly at Rani as she made her
rather spectacular entrance. His one eye had fallen to a dangerously low level on her bodice,
which explained his sudden faux pas in the language department, “abreast,” he quickly corrected,
“of the situation. Milady Al’Trekis, so kind of you to join us.” Somehow he managed to pull his
gaze up to the level of her eyes as he rounded the end of the table and pulled out a chair for her.
“Lord Arketh,” a rotund man by the name of Lord Berel spoke up, “why should we lend our aide
to Y’Roden D’Riel. He is a half-breed at best; if he seizes the throne it will be hundreds of years
until someone else inherits. That is a frightening thing for a mortal man to think about. Perhaps
we prefer Grendorin on the throne, he at least is human.”
“Ah, but no less long lived than His Majesty,” Rhodry shot back, “if you will kindly remember
your history, Corin fell under his rule once before, and suffered greatly as a result until Princess
An’Thaya released this land from his Tyranny. WHY would you want to subject your people to
that? It is only a matter of time before he comes for your lands as well. What we have here,
gentleman, is a repetition of history if we do not stop it now.”
“At least his blood is pure,” muttered a thin blonde lord at the opposite end of the table.
Rhodry shot a rather pained look at Rani that spoke of his frustration with the pettier of his peers,
but the edge of his lip kept quirking up as he waited for her to slip into the chair he was still
holding for her. “Pure blood?” Rhodry asked, though his eyes remained on the Lady’s. “I would
not call Tallin Modar’s blood pure, he is as much Demon as Human now, there is certainly no
Obsidian blood in his veins and he has outlived both of his brothers. Though, to be fair… he DID
murder them both.”
Before sitting fire filled her eyes as she bent dangerously over the table to face the few lords
across from her. Their eyes could not help but be drawn to her heaving bosom as her emotion
filled words fell from her lips. “Pure blood? I have witnessed what good comes from this socalled pure blood. I have seen the butchery and the treachery it has wrought. Is there even one
among you that did not at least respect Lord B’Rodyn? Most I dare say loved him while the
others could barely fault him according him noble respect at least. I have seen the manner of this
Tallin’s sort of rule and he would have all of you licking his boots wondering which of you
would fall next to his whim or out of sheer amusement. This excuse of demon spawn set the
wheels in motion by killing the King and Queen of S’Hea along with his heir. Not satisfied there
he moved onto your very capital to assassinate King Derwin leaving his queen to waste away in
mourning. Next he will be murdering your sons and daughters if not by his own hand by the war
41
he has brought down upon both kingdoms.” Pulling back from her speech Rani sat down in the
seat held by Rhodry to let this gathering of Lords think a moment on those words.
“Heir? What heir?” Lord Berel asked, “King B’Rodyn only had one child that I know of, a
daughter. Only the males inherit in the D’Riel line… something to do with that Web of theirs.”
“Patriarch,” Rhodry supplied helpfully, smiling as he met Rani’s gaze. Her fury and defence of
B’Rodyn had been quite impressive, as had that heaving bosom. “The D’Riel’s are patriarchal,
the eldest male of purest blood always inherits. Regardless, they are the lesser evil if you ask me.
Half-Elven or no, Y’Roden is the better bet for a stable Kingdom.”
Rani rolled her eyes choosing to remain quiet letting these overbearing bags of self-important hot
air bandy about on stupid male issues.
Berel laughed suddenly and slammed down the tankard of ale he had just been taking a drink
from, “and if the rumours are true, if Y’Roden himself is part Demon? Are we not in the same
boat?”
“Berel,” Rhodry finally turned to meet the Lord eye to eye, “you are forgetting the treaty. If
Y’Roden D’Riel doesn’t take that throne, there will be war anyway. Would you rather fight
Tallin, or the Elves themselves? Besides, Y’Roden will abdicate to his eldest son once things are
official. Valin is a good man, a stable leader.”
Berel’s supposed humour faded in view of these further developments. They had all assumed
Fechine would rule behind Y’Roden or in regency until of age and many speculated on who
would vie for that position. They’d even been discussing that very thing in light of the recent
usurpation. He wasn’t overly fond of either choice but considering Tallin had just killed Derwin,
if it had to be Y’Roden and not one of them nagged at his mind as the better road to follow.
“And even more of an Elf,” the blonde snarled again, “another half-breed, and that half not even
of this planet.”
At that point Rhodry slapped a hand to his forehead and sighed. “The Elen are a trustworthy ally
Leith. Their Crown Prince is married to Princess An’Thaya, their King her bondmate, what more
do you want?”
“There is another thing,” Leith snapped, “What sort of culture is that? Multiple wives and
bondmates, it’s disgusting.”
“I think Milord Leith protests to much,” Gardor grinned, “a little jealous perhaps?”
Rani was seething listening to this childish foolishness. These men, supposed leaders of Corin,
sat here in the face of true evil arguing about things that had little or nothing to do with the
subject at hand. More than once her jaw opened as if to level her own insights on these men only
to think better of it all and close again.
42
“Can we get back to the subject at hand?” Berel asked, “I don’t care who is warming her
highness’s bed.”
“I damn well do.” Spouted Dergen. “That sort of thing will undermine the purity of the races. So
much mixing and soon no one will know who’s human and who’s elf. I say we gather ourselves
together and go negotiate with this Tallin and if he’s unreasonable we just take him out.” Three
of the other lords seemed to nod in agreement with Dergen.
It wasn’t going well but not as bad as it could be. Rhodry sighed trying to maintain a composure
that was seeping away with each ridiculous counter statement tossed out. It seemed they were
growing further away from consensus than closer to it. “Dergen, if you had actually learned how
to read instead of spending your time preening in front of a mirror, you would have learned
enough to at least know how deplorable a way life it was until the D’Riels were restored to
power. Instead of knowing there was enough supplies to last a winter the people wondered if
they would even survive to plant again. It’s such faulty reasoning that drove me away from even
my inheritance.”
Rani’s head snapped and the fury that has been simmering rose once again and she stood up
abruptly. “None of you know anything. Not even you “Lord Arketh”. I served the King and his
Queen and although it had not been announced yet the Queen was newly with child a son… an
heir. Tallin Modar robbed you all of the noble son to be of King B’Rodyn.” She stood there
ready to counter any argument that rose. Silence that was palpable descended upon the room at
her revelation, one she felt served more now in the knowing than even Rhodry’s lame exposure
that Valin would inherit and rule. “And as M’lord Arketh has so succinctly pointed out Y’Roden
will not be your King but S’Hea’s he has set things in order so that he will hand his Crown to his
son, a man of one wife and with child. So you see My Lords all this arguing is pointless since
your worst fears will not be realized unless you fail to back Lord Y’Roden. The house of
Al’Trekis chooses to back King Y’Roden.” Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword ready to
make her point that way if necessary.
“But…” Berel paused to sigh and consider further “…given the options, I choose to back
Y’Roden D’Riel. All in favour say aye.”
One by painstakingly one, save those who had always known they supported Y’Roden and the
ages old treaty, cast in agreement, leaving Lord Leith’s mouth in a hard-line as he glared at his
peers.
“Well that just leaves you sir,” Rhodry observed brightly, “and might I say, my full support is
with his Majesty as well.”
***
Fadil looked around the discrete and very temporary camp they’d set up, and was satisfied.
Everything that could be, including a number of the troops, was up in the trees. He hadn’t
worked directly with the Elen rangers before, but he was impressed with their discipline and their
skills. It seemed Galain wasn’t a very typical representative of his race. Then again, he might not
43
have seen the Prince at his best. He had to have some redeeming features.
He was relieved, too, to have been left with Valin under his charge. Or at least, where he could
see him. Though it was strange now to be nominally in command of the man who would soon be
King.
But now, there was nothing left to do, until the signal came. There wasn’t even anything to
watch; though he had scouts posted in case they got a surprise visit. “I hate waiting,” he muttered
darkly.
“Well, in this case, it may be better than the alternative,” Valin observed from the branch he was
stretched out on. The young Elf was content enough to wait for now, after his altercation with the
Rock Troll he had met his quota for excitement for a few days. More than willing to help he had
spent the day helping the Elen Rangers settle in, knowing full well that the heavy gravity and
extreme heat was bothering them. The Prince even recognized a few of them from his childhood
in Alcarinque.
His cousin Anelain was more or less feeling at home as well. Familiar with both the S’Hean
troops and the Elen, she mingled readily with both. Like Valin, she had been raised in
Alcarinque, and when she had come of age, had joined the Rangers. Eventually, she had given in
to King B’Rodyn’s requests that she come live in S’Hea and had joined the S’Hean Rangers
instead. It was then that Kalab had come to live with her, and life had settled into a content blur
from day to day. Until now… but even still, there was a smile on the redheads face as she leaned
back against Kalab’s chest, legs stretched out on the branch beneath them as they whiled the time
away. Waiting, in her book, wasn’t half so bad.
Kalab casually wrapped one of Anelain’s curls around his finger. Idle hands wasn’t his strong
point, so he was doing the best that he could, it was either play with the curl or go back to
sharpening weapons and if he continued doing that there wouldn’t be anything left. The forest elf
shifted, reaching back to scratch at an itch on his shoulder as he listened to the conversation.
“There are definitely worse things that waiting.” He mumbled in agreement with a slight shrug.
***
The sound of a knock brought An’Thaya’s head up from its resting place on Galain’s chest,
crimson curls tickling over his golden skin. Blinking sleepily she stared at the door stupidly for a
moment before her hazed mind finally managed to form cohesive thought. “Yes?”
“Milady, the scouts have returned, they are ready to see you know.”
Rubbing at her eyes the Amazon sighed, “Thank you, could you wake the others as well please?”
“Yes Milady.”
Dropping her head back onto her husband’s chest Tay groaned, then nudged at him, “Time to get
up my caffeine laced love.” There was a slight pause … “I mean up, out of the bed.”
44
Galain managed a laugh—a good thing for this early in the morning after a caffeine-crazed night.
“But this is the best part of waking up...” he murmured nevertheless sitting up slowly, kissing
Tay before he engaged in a luxuriously slow and thorough stretch. “Gods, I’m glad their scouts
are back.”
Tay couldn’t help the giggle that escaped and she paused in mid crawl across the Elen to kiss
him. “You are perfectly awful, you do know that don’t you? Now… what did you do with my
clothing? Scouts… yes… gods… I just want to get the information we need and get out of here
before they try to feed us again.”
And those last words were the magical key to waking Galain up thoroughly. What would they be
served this morning? Scrambled spider? Bat omelette?
“Pants! Yours!” he exclaimed accidentally tossing his own pair to Tay before he got it all figured
out.
The clothing dilemma solved, Tay linked her fingers with Galain’s as they took the stairs back to
the taproom. A group of dusty worn looking men were gathered at the table the visitors had
dined at the evening before, the tired expressions replaced with open curiosity as the vibrant
couple entered the room.
Ash arrived shortly after An’Thaya and Galain and remained quiet. Her evening had been spent
with memories of home and her almost non-existent childhood. The cooked spider had indeed
tasted like cooked crab, their legs were considered the best of them, and had eaten her fill,
casually sucking the hull and grinning madly at Galain. The rest of her night had been spent
answering shy questions asked by various men, women and children, only have them chuckle
softly and dismiss the universe Ash currently dwelt in as an elaborate fairy tale, something
Ild’ashi had only smiled at and went on, this was perhaps the first entertainment these people had
had, and her soft, velvety voice had told tales for hours.
Now, one dark hand scrubbed at her face as she stood behind the couple, a mug of something hot
and pungent smelling in the other.
“Care for a drink, my lady?” Ash asked softly, as she offered the mug to An’Thaya She wasn’t
about to tell her what was in it, but it definitely would wake a person up in the morning.
“Yes… thank you Ash.” The Amazon sniffed hesitantly at the contents of the mug, then took a
sip. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head and she pressed it into Galain’s hands. “Give it a
try,” she gasped in a hoarse voice, “packs more of a punch than coffee.” Coughing a little she
moved closer to the table, eyeing a map the apparent leader of the scouts was rolling out onto it.
“We need to know where the greatest concentrations of Nuru’kh-ai and Wyrm are right now,”
she said to the white-eyed human, “and what news, if any, there is of Samara Mirage.”
The man’s pale-eyed gaze lingered on the redhead for several long moments, entranced by the
45
ethereal look of the S’Hean Princess. “Aye Milady,” he said finally, then hesitated again,
“First… might I… might I touch your hair?”
An’Thaya stiffened, her mouth forming a hard line for a moment and nearly pulling back as the
man reached out with tentative fingers. Biting back revulsion she closed her eyes and allowed
him to caress the silken tresses, tugging back only when he leaned in to sniff at her. Emerald
greens flew open and Tay stepped back, “The map… sir.”
White-eyes shifted uneasily away and the human settled back in his chair. “My apologies Your
Highness. Uhm… yes. The Nuru’kh-ai are in greatest number here,” his finger tapped an island
in the sand between the outpost where their comrades currently resided, and the Eastern Elven
Outpost. “And here,” he tapped the end of a landmass that was the only other route to the Eastern
post. Samara has been highly active for months, and giving the position of the Beasts… she has
anticipated your arrival.”
The Amazon’s shoulders slumped and she stepped back against Galain, “So the only way to get
to Mornemindon… is through them, unless we spend several days on the sands.”
Shadow stood off to the side with her arms crossed, far enough away so that her skin wouldn’t
crawl with so many humans around, but close enough not to give any of the group a reason to be
insulted. She felt foolish for her actions, but some actions were simply hard to break. She silently
berated herself as she resisted in reaching for her flask that she kept hidden in her vest.
“Between a rock and a hard place…” The forest elf muttered.
***
“Master, the King’s forces have been glimpsed to the South, the scout that brought the news
barely made it back with his life. None have returned from the West or the East, the two that
made it back from the North reported horses… but claimed they were not Obsidian. How can
that be?”
Tallin swore vehemently and tossed his robes to one side in irritation as he rose from the desk.
“The D’Riels have off world allies,” he snarled, “Y’Roden must have called them in. We must
know more about who is out there and where. Send more scouting parties out… and tell them to
be more cautious this time.” Turning on his heel the Demon Mage grabbed Mystical by the back
of her neck, curling hard fingers into her hair and yanking the Abjurer forwards. Ice blue eyes
fell on the collar around her neck and he ran his fingertips over the metal surface. He seemed to
consider for a moment, then pushed her away again, growling low in his throat. “Go,” he
dismissed the Nuru’kh-ai, “report back to me when you have more information.”
“There will be allies from the Diirlathe... The Aerdonian dragons... Their emperor is bonded to
your niece’s dragon. The Shroudlings have probably offered aid as well, Shadow would speak
for her brother on that...” Mysti’s voice was near silent. She could guess at who was around, but
she couldn’t be sure. Melaina had found a way to block her from seeing anything through her
eyes. “I’d assume the Elen are helping as well... Possibly others, though I cannot be sure...”
46
“Ah… yes… Callan Blackthorn… I had the somewhat dubious honour of meeting his
acquaintance just before my dear brother met his unfortunate end.” His altercation with the
Emperor had unsettled Tallin somewhat. The power of the Dragon had nearly brought down his
shields… another strike, and the tables may have been turned. Staring off into space he rubbed
one thumb over the fingertips of the same hand, drawing it up close to his face. “There is
something familiar about that one… but I can’t put my finger on it. Regardless… I don’t like
him… not one bit.”
Blue eyes focused on Mystical again and he frowned, “The Elen… of course…her mates would
provide assistance wouldn’t then. But… what is a Shroudling?”
“That I cannot answer. I know only what my children told me in the past, and they have blocked
me now.” Mystical dared to approach, not fearing his reactions. A hand reached out to grasp his
shoulder. “They should still be largely outnumbered... Particularly with the coming of the trolls.”
The dark Mage seemed to settle beneath her touch, the icy gaze warming by a degree as Tallin
focused on his chosen bondmate. “Aye, even if they get close to the walls… they have no way
through. We have DragonSteel; it should be easy enough to shoot any of the bastards down if
they try to fly over. Once we find out exactly where they are camped… we can bury them with
sheer numbers.” Hard fingers cupped Mystical’s face, tilting her head back and baring her throat.
Leaning in Grendorin bit at the tender flesh there then ran his tongue slowly up to her chin. “It is
all a game of chess my dear, and the pawns seem to be in place once more. There is a new King
and Queen in play on the other side … time to put them in check.”
Laughter accompanied a kiss he placed on the Abjurer’s mouth and madness flashed in the eyes
that met hers. “We already have them distracted. How many do you think crossed the dimension
to Tenobrous? And when the second blow hits… Y’Roden D’Riel will be spinning so fast it will
be child’s play just to reach out and crush him.”
An answering gleam of madness sparkled in the blue-grey depths that met his eyes. Mystical
lightly scratched her nails down his chest. “And still Corin will be yours...” The Ali-maera’s
smile would have frozen any who knew her before. She had been blocked from An’Thaya when
the Amazon crossed into Tenobrous and Melaina had kept her from knowing what happened in
S’Hea, so Mystical truly had no idea of who had gone into the darkness and who was left to
fight.
“As it was always meant to be.” Sliding an arm around her waist, Tallin waltzed Mysti across the
carpeted floor, spinning slowly in the light of the twin suns. “No… wait, ours, my beautiful
queen…ours.” A snap of his fingers adorned the beauty’s brow with a golden crown, the Wyvern
clutching a rust colored ruby. “The Lords of Corin will fall easily to our will, and we will rule
this land, I shall reclaim all that was mine.” In a graceful movement he dipped her, running
fingertips over her bared midriff as she lay splayed across his arm, “and you … will help me kill
Light’s Hope. That little bitch has thwarted me for far to long. If she will not join me… no one
else shall have her either.”
47
“Rather fitting that she die by the hands one who once loved her...” Mystical’s smile was cold.
She had one arm around the demon mage’s neck, fingers digging into his hard flesh. Her other
lay thrown back, displaying her body for him. The crown had settled easily onto her brow, held
there by her mass of hair. She was growing accustomed to the combination of sheer silk and
metal that she wore, though at times, she’d prefer to forgo the metal all together. “What shall we
do with the others?”
“Loving that one, would have only led to your own destruction,” Tallin hissed, “you should
thank me for releasing you from her spell. Others have died for her… it is time she return the
favour.” Straightening he pulled Mystical up hard against his chest, “What would you like to do
with the others, my love? Any… special requests?”
Mystical wrapped her other arm around his neck and bit his lower lip. “Aye, and have I not
thanked you yet in ways unspoken?” The Ali-maera moved her body slightly, a gasp of pleasure
at the mere contact escaping her mouth. “Mmm. I think they might break too easily to play with
for long, but could be fun to see...” Her eyes turned serious when she looked up to his eyes. “I
would ask one thing, and one thing only... That the children of my body be spared. I may not
bear them any love, but I cannot stand by and let them die deliberately.”
The Mage was silent for a moment, studying blue-grey pools intensely. “Done then. In return…
you will become my legal wife. Yes? And then… give me a child with that delectable body of
yours. If I am to rule Corin… I shall need a proper heir.”
Mystical smiled, a trace of warmth entering her gaze. “Only one child?” Her smile turned
playful. “Perhaps an heir and a spare would be wise?” She stood on tiptoe and caught his lip
again, biting just hard enough to bring a pleasuring pain. “Aye, I will do as you wish...”
***
They were almost a day’s march from the outpost where the other half of this small band of
rescuers waited and the foursome was struggling to keep their heads up. The news from the
scouts in Osto had been disappointing, but not entirely unexpected. They had lost the element of
surprise, but then, had they ever really had it? Samara could not have thought they would not
come; she was far too clever for that. Now the four of them were forced to trek through a
canyon, not a preferred route, but to take the highland would have been suicide... they’d be
spotted in seconds if a scout from Samara’s camp came anywhere close.
Ild’ashi had to admit, she’d had grown spoiled in a land of sunlight, mother oaks, green things
and blue sky. Horses were a luxury she’d grown to like as well, and she’d very much like to have
her mount at the moment. She was starting to feel it, the depression of this place was setting in,
felt the sky and ground closing in on her, she was going to be swallowed in Tenobrous and she
knew it. Another problem was setting in; the Ranger was suffering insomnia and dreamt of rain
and morning sun when she did sleep. Her skin had been crawling for hours now, and the
Tenobrous born S’Hean had begun to suspect it wasn’t just the lack of sun and clean water.
“M’Lady?” Ash muttered, and tapped An’Thaya on the back, her fingers marking out an ancient
48
battle language, one developed here in Tenobrous where comrades were sometimes close enough
to touch, but could not see one another and could not speak lest they give away their position.
We are being watched and followed...
The sound of a single stone clattering down the shale face of the canyon to their left caught her
attention, and bi-colored eyes darted to the rocks above. Another series of taps danced across her
princess’s shoulder blades,
We are not alone...
Above them, behind stunted, shabby trees and the green-black shadows, the yellow pig-like eyes
of a Nuru’kh-ai flicked to another that crouched beside it. His thumb with its talon like nail
dragged slowly across its throat in a universal symbol that someone was about to die. A shame
for the one that had loosed the stone from its foundations that it meant him. A wickedly curved,
crudely forged but deadly strong blade darted out, caught the careless one in the kidney while
another massive, black-skinned hand covered its mouth to muffle the squealing as he twisted the
blade. As the light dimmed from the other’s eyes, the death dealer caught it by its battle harness,
and cast it down the face of the canyon, where it slammed into one of the elf-spawn, pinning it to
the canyon floor.
A howl of glee went up, and as one, the massive warriors revealed themselves, drew their
weapons, and charged the three standing travelers, their sole target the one with hair that shone
like spun gold...Galain Alcarin.
Tay was jolted and thrown sideways as Ash went down beneath the dead beast. The dagger she
had drawn flew from half-frozen fingers, landing with a clatter on the floor of the rocky canyon.
Panic had seized her… they were as good as dead, horribly outnumbered and in foreign terrain.
“Galain!” Blocked from her husband by two massive Nuru’kh-ai the Amazon shrieked in rage,
one dagger releasing from its sheath at her hip, another from her boot as she brought up her leg
and ground the heel into one of the creature’s groin. Peripherally she was aware of Adarin,
panicked questions in her mind that she had no time to answer… and deeper down, the Crimson
dragon awakening. The dagger and rose on her bicep was burning, emitting a soft glow in the
green mists, and the new Blackthorn dragon on her lower back writhed painfully.
Not now… Not now… Nuru’kh-ai… Black blood was already running freely down her wrists as
she dispatched the first of her attackers, though a sudden pain in her scalp and boots leaving the
safety of the ground sent off an alarm. Twisting, her crimson locks caught in the second beast’s
grip, she kicked out at him viciously before carving at the arm holding her suspended. Out of the
corner of her eye she caught movement… a flash of black hair and blood red eyes…
Samara…
There was music… a voice on one hand so sweet and pure it broke the heart, and on the other,
dripped with lust and venom, chilling the soul. The presence of the Demoness clicked in
49
An’Thaya’s head and her struggles turned frantic.
“No! No! You can’t have him! You BITCH!!!”
Galain’s own world was spinning. One moment hunched over as he thought about the
disappointment over the lack of news and the frustration all were feeling. They simply had to
find the children. The next moment he was spinning about, barely getting his weapon out to ward
off heavy forms that bore him forward.
Gods! Don’t wait on me! He sent frantically, feeling Tay’s rage and anger and trying not to
transmit his own panic too heavily to either she or Ghetsuhm. He was confused by what was
happening and struck out wildly, exulting when one of his attackers screeched with pain. He was
not so exultant when he saw how Tay was being held and he bellowed with anger, his mind
going blank with rage. It hadn’t quite clicked with him yet.
Primal fear had taken over the Amazon, and it wasn’t for herself. Having her nephews taken by
the Demoness was one thing… the thought of her sinking those claws into her husband sent Tay
into hysterics. “Look out! Galain run!” Crimson scales shot out in s scattering of ruby glints
across the Amazon’s skin, Agaru’s rage rising against the treatment her skinwalker was receiving
at the hands of her attacker. Yet, before she could emerge, one massive gauntleted fist slammed
into the side of the redheads face, taking her across the eye and slashing open the skin.
The world spun… and she struggled to stay awake, desperation pumping adrenaline through her
veins. Galain…
The Nuru’kh-ai grunted, then tossed the unconscious Amazon aside, advancing on Galain
himself.
“Bring him to me,” Samara demanded in a sibilant hiss, “not you, finish what you started,” she
pointed at An’Thaya, “Kill her.” The massive brute paused, nostrils flaring for a moment, beady
eyes focused on the Elen as several of comrades moved to seize him. A leer didn’t do much to
improve its looks as the black skinned beast turned and drew a knife, moving to do its Mistress’
bidding.
Shadow snarled and stepped in front of the stinking beast. “That’s my sister you bastard.” The
forest elf lashed out with one booted foot, catching him square in the chest and sending him
staggering backwards. Her eyes flickered briefly to Galain, then to Samara, causing her lip to
curl up. Anger and hatred roared up inside her, turning the forest elf’s forest green eyes to black
as she lashed out at the Nuru’kh-ai.
The savageness that ran in her blood kicked in as she fought to defend the only thing that
registered in her mind right then…family. Shadow forced the beast into a deadly waltz as she
toyed with it in a demented game of cat and mouse. It took a minute for her to realize that the
Nuru’kh-ai had cut a slice across her cheek, the new warmth flowing freely down her copper
cheek.
50
“Time to change partners…” She hissed as she shifted into shadow and stepped into the creature,
ripping it apart from the inside out.
Ild’ashi’s world had turned black after a brilliant explosion of red and gold. The Uruk that had
her pinned was slowly crushing the life from her, and she struggled to breathe, and only found
herself gagging at the smell of the beast. Dark fingers clawed at the monster, and slipped across
its dirty skin, its own blood making it slick and impossible to get a grip on. Panic flooded her
veins with fear and newfound strength as the sounds of battle and terror managed to float through
the rushing of her own pulse in her ears. Sweet Arminiea help me...
If the goddess heard, Ild’ashi couldn’t be certain, but one moment she was pinned, the next free.
Bi-colored eyes flickered open as fresh air flooded her lungs, then went wide. Tenobrous was
full of twisted horrors, and no world was without carrion eaters. Screaming shadows ripped free
from the canyon walls and snatched up bleeding Nuru’kh-ai, enfolded them in their darkness and
pulled them away. Feeder tendrils sucked blood from the shale and sand floor of the canyon, then
stretched out wisps of grey, seeking motionless, cooling bodies.
MOVE ASH...MOVE! She kept screaming, but her body refused to move. One shadow kept
looming closer and from it, glowed a pair of noxious green eyes, surreal and translucent. These
were not shadows like the elf that had just ripped the Nuru apart...these were something else...
Pain lanced up her leg, the first sensation that she could feel as ghostly darkness wrapped around
her foot, then released her...her body was still too warm, too alive...and Ash gasped out a sigh of
thanks to the gods. Fingers began scrabbling at the loose soil and gravel, and the Ranger’s legs
finally began to twitch. Grunting in pain, Ash dragged herself to her feet and stumbled to
An’Thaya, her long knife drawn in one hand and an Nuru blade in the other.
“An’Thaya...M’Lady...You must get to your feet or Galain is lost forever...” Ash’s words were
cut off by the roar of yet another Nuru and anger shook the S’Hean’s body. “FILTHY
ABOMINATIONS!” Agony screamed along her nerves, broken ribs caused her breath to catch
in stitches and gasps...but the Ranger launched herself into the fight, using the pain to feed the
adrenaline.
“I’ll be grateful when the others get here,” Bran said softly to Yarwin. The members of the small
group had been taking it in turns to keep watch, both for the rest of their party and for any other
nasty surprises that this place might contain. The fair-haired elf was fairly sure that another
spider attack could be sufficient to send Ghetsuhm at least over the edge altogether. “I’m starting
to really hate waiting.”
Lapis eyes peered out through the murk and Yarwin could only nod. The constant nagging what
if questions lurked in his mind, ate at him. He was afraid for his sons, his wife and new child,
who he’d not even had time to ask was a boy or girl. There was the constant nagging, gnawing
irritation with the lack of daylight or dark, and for that matter, irritation with Callan that was
building into something explosive.
“Aye, the waiting sucks, I’ll give it that, and I never was overly patient anyway.”
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Quiet talk between the two continued on as the day? night? Whatever it was went by, the lack of
any further chaos giving Yarwin a chance to settle his jangled nerves.
Ghet sat quiet in a corner. She’d barely spoken since regaining control of herself, even to Galain.
She held him in her soul occasionally, took comfort from him, but... it was taking all her will to
stay together. She was afraid, for her son, for her husband, for herself and all their friends. And
she was so angry, and frustrated at her helplessness. She knew her weakness was making things
worse for those around her, and she just hoped it would be better, easier, when they were all back
together.
She’d slept almost not at all. She had to keep her eyes open all the time so she could see the
things that were coming. Things were always coming. Sometimes they just scuttled in the
shadows. Sometimes they whispered, just at the edge of her hearing. Sometimes they just sat,
and watched her. There was a perfectly logical explanation for all this, which was that she was
going crackers.
She was trying to meditate, as the People had taught her, to soothe her anxiety and increase her
strength. At the same time, she just quietly hung out in the back of Galain’s mind. It was as close
as she wanted to get while he was with Tay, closer than she usually went, but she desperately
needed the reassurance of his presence.
Except something was wrong. There was an edge of panic, the sensation of noise and movement,
and threat. She knew she mustn’t distract him, so she stayed quiet, but intensely there
nonetheless, poised to give him her strength should he need it.
Adarin was sending frantic questions to Tay. Her rage and fear were loud and clear along their
bond and it was his turn to stiffen with shock, his eyes going wide. The time spent waiting had
not been easy and he’d been relieved to know the other half of their group was returning. Magepower whirled madly through his body, impotent without direction.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Bran demanded, the tension in the others so evident he could
almost see it despite the darkness that pervaded the dimension.
Ghet frowned as she tried to make sense of what she was getting from Galain. Rather
unconsciously, she had crawled across to take Adarin’s hand. It was so hard on them both, being
so helpless. “The others are being attacked,” she said quietly. “Nuru’kh-ai. Oh gods, and
Samara.” She shuddered, the distant sound of An’Thaya’s words dropping her into a cold shock.
“No, no, not Galain.” She knew only too well what Samara had done to Ro, what it had cost him
to survive, it, the damage it had done that could never be undone. That had been bad enough. The
thought of her doing the same to Galain... She mustn’t panic. If she did, she would panic him,
and he needed to keep his head. Her face was white with the strain.
Callan’s own reaction was much the same, An’Thaya’s bellow through Agaru to leave them
alone had him reeling, and rather slowly, the Emperor sank down next to one of the fires, and sat,
fully glowing topaz eyes staring into the flames. Black wings rustled behind him, the only
52
outward show that he was fighting Rage. That was his mate, his bondmate out there, trapped in a
gods’-be-damned Elven skinwalker and if he lost Agaru, he’d knew the path he’d take.
Several tense minutes ticked by as Samara’s Nuru’kh-ai fought in the canyon, several minutes
that had Callan’s muscles bulging from the strain it took to control the chemicals in his blood
and brain that threatened to send him out of control.
Yarwin’s eyes followed Bran’s and through the murk made out the outlines of the bodies, tense
and terrified, enraged and yet unable to help. Their thermal patterns told him a lot of what each
one was feeling, their scents changed as the pheromones in their bodies altered with the fear and
concern. Ghet was close to losing control, and Callan stood on the edge of full-blown rage. Light
steps carried him to Ghet, one hand going to her shoulder as he crouched near her. Gods how he
wished he could do more than simply be here.
“Callan? How far out are they?”
If there was any chance, any chance at all they could help....
***
Copper fingers tapped out an unusual cadence on the rough map that had been given to him upon
request. Figures tumbled around in the Elven Bear’s head as his eyes followed every contour of
the northern quadrant, all the way up to the tunnel he had scouted out. He had two thousand
knights with him, all seasoned warriors, and open land that could either work with him, or
against him, it all depended on what was decided here and now.
“What information?” Argent looked up at the man across from him, his toned form slouched
because of the canvas that was stretched out to hide them from the dual suns, and even then his
hair touched it. A pair of spectacles perched on his nose as blue eyes scanned the tiny script on
the aged pages of the book in his hands.
“Not much,” he said finally, closing the tome, “The beasts breed like rabbits and what they lack
in brains they make up in brawn and determination. Everything else that is written repeats what
you have said, that they reek. It is a wonder that this Tallin can stand to be around them from the
way you described the stench.”
“One could wish this Tallin would focus on King Y’Roden as his main threat.” Another one of
the Knights spoke up, turning everyone’s attention back to the previous discussion, “But such
hopes would be folly. No one in their right mind would leave his flank weak to fight an
adversary he knows nothing about.”
Argent grunted in acknowledgement, “From what I can understand, he isn’t known for being in
his right mind.” He interjected calmly, earning a few chuckles. His attention shifted to the map
then back up to the stable master
“We were able to set up forges in S’Hea, we have shoes enough to equip more horses than what
53
came. The smiths are at the ready and have orders to shod every animal they get their hands on
as soon as the tunnels are ready to open.” Baysen read the confused look on his friend’s face, “It
is so the horses won’t have to wear the cleats any longer than they have to and the shoes stay in
top condition.”
The Shroudling king nodded in understanding then pinched the ridge of his nose. “What I
wouldn’t give for one of Kit’s visions right about now.” He grumbled, getting a sudden flash of
the hell that his sister and the others were in. “Oh hell…”
“My King!”
Daggers and swords were drawn at the first shout, ready for anything even as the winded boy
came bursting into the shade. “King Argent, my Lords, there is a disturbance on the horizon!”
The Elven Bear came quickly around the table to stare off in the direction that the youth pointed.
“It appears to be an Armada, my Lord…but how can ships sail on the air?”
Gent spun around and threw the dagger back at the table; it’s point slamming into the tabletop,
effectively pinning the map down. “King Y’Roden has many allies we have never heard or seen
anything of, and many of those can probably be found in the archives if one looked. Shall we go
greet our new found friends?” He tossed to the men that had been around the table as he strode
off towards the ships.
Krassc stood on the prow of the mother freighter; Damara had gone below to check on Dante’.
The WarEagle’s flight from Corin, then in the deserts of the Diirlathe had nearly killed the
creature, but his message had been delivered. The former Eldredae elf peered down at the black
turned earth of the farmlands as the ships skimmed along, now fully adjusted to the planet’s
gravity. There had been some problems getting them light enough and powered enough to clear
the ancient trees that separated Corin’s farmland from forest, and Krassc feared more than a few
of the millennia old trees had fallen beneath the metal mother ships.
But the elf knew worse would befall this world than a few injured trees, tyrants like Tallin would
not stop with just one territory, one world, one galaxy. Greed was insatiable, and at least in the
shorter-lived races such as Humans there was a fairly limited time to wreak havoc. Not so the
Elven or draconic races.
“Ho there! Helmsman, cut the power to a third! I believe we’ve been spotted by the allies we
were sent to meet. They seem a bit...addled?” Chuckling as the solar powered ships began to
slow, a process accompanied by a whining thrum of power cells being shut down, Krassc
Dothrae hailed those who waited.
“Y’Roden D’Riel sends us in search of the Bear...which of you would be the one I seek?”
***
54
Although it was not far removed from the patience needed to stalk prey the waiting was going to
be the hardest portion of the battle to endure. But Aerdon warriors had had eons of practice at it
and generations of lived and relived history of it to be put off by it now. Actually battle patience
was one of the earliest lessons learned. So the several battalions or so of the House Guard and
aspiring blacks among them hunkered down to be mostly out of sight until the precise moment
the order to begin their offensive tactics against Tallin was given.
Pride and eagerness shone in many a face as they kept sight on the distance between themselves
an all too familiar inner sight on the cusp of a battle. Some among them knew of the great sand
ships and many had at one time or another seen them in some fashion. These sat wondering how
things might turn if those great ships of the Eheiling Nahrn could be called. Even a few among
them had either served or grew up among those of the Aerdon desert.
Even the heat did not offend them as it might other races for in fact scattered all over the vast
sands were many hatching grounds of the Blacks. As Akavian now watched the skies looking for
signs or clues as to how things might go or how to spot danger it struck him how time passed
differently here and he stayed alert to anything moving far off. Something in his instincts told
him it would not be long now before they were ordered to begin.
Darkness fell several hours before Ro had his horse saddled up and rode back through the ranks
to the Diirlathe contingent. He brought with him several S’Hean Magi, Reece and Sahar. The
first to provide dampening spells, the last two to guide the dragons to the markers.
The Black Prince of the Diirlathe felt the approach more than heard anything and knew exactly
when the great obsidian came to a halt at his side. Looking up into the face of the new King,
Akavian smiled, “Now?”
Y’Roden nodded, the silver streak at his temple glinting in the low firelight. “Aye, it is time. I
will portal you in as close as possible in two separate groups, each of which will be provided
with a guide,” he indicated Reece and Sahar, “and a pair of Magi.” Settling back in the saddle he
leaned over to the side a bit and clasped Akavian’s wrist, “Good luck, and thank you my friend.”
“Just get us there my friend and we will do what you need.” Akav waved at two captains to tell
them to separate as the King requested. “How do we communicate once we engage in the
digging?” Awaiting a reply before he gave Y’Roden’s arm another farewell shake to move into
place with the group under Reece.
“The Magi are linked to me,” the King stated, “they will keep me updated as things develop.” Ro
paused for a moment, the horse dancing restlessly beneath him, “be careful out there,” his
emerald gaze met Reece’. Looking away he shifted his concentration to drawing on the Aethyr
and opening a portal close enough for access to the walls of the Castle, but far enough away not
to alert Tallin. A crackling green vortex soon sprang into being and the half-elf leaned forward to
pat the neck of his high-strung mount.
***
55
Shadow did not go unrecognized by Samara Mirage. Blood red eyes flared in rage at the sight of
the female elf, remembering all to well her banishment from Whispin decades before. She hated
her almost as much as she hated Ghetsuhm Riker Alcarin… almost as much as she hated
An’Thaya D’Riel Alcarin. All three women had, at some stage of his life, managed to rip
Y’Roden from her grasp.
The Amazon’s death would have been immensely satisfying… but Sam was going to have to
settle for taking her husband. For the moment…
“Finish them off,” she snarled, a sickly green portal flaring open at her command. “Keep them
back.” The Demoness moved closer to Galain, the intensity of her song rising, confusing bonds
and hazing the mind.
“GALAIN!” her voice was almost a scream as she fought to fend off Nuru’kh-ai, pushing down
the overwhelming feeling that they were reproducing right in front of her face. Shadow snarled
and slashed out again, vowing as each stinking body fell that she would carve the Demoness’
heart out. Another snarl escaped her and she retreated back to her companions out of necessity of
keeping her head than giving up on trying to get through.
Galain never ran and he deliberately ignored Tay’s cry to run, refusing to just leave her or the
others. Unfortunately that was precisely what Samara apparently wanted, as he stood now,
wavering and confused, the Demoness’ song hazing his thoughts and blurring reality. He heard
Shadow’s shout and for a moment his mind was cleared. The Elen started, realized he was being
hemmed in and he raised his weapon again, striking viciously at the Nuru’kh-ai advancing upon
him. He wasn’t going with them without inflicting as much damage as possible. He stumbled as
he stepped backward, dangerously close to the open portal and dove away.
“You’ll have to catch me!” he exclaimed, struggling to block out Samara’s mind-numbing song.
That isn’t as difficult as you would like to think, the saccharine sweet tone was a whisper that
caressed Galain’s delicately pointed ears as she disappeared from his line of sight. A warm
breath tickled across one ear tip, a low laugh creeping across the Elen’s senses. For every man,
whether he admits it or not… deep down… wants to be caught…
A crack of lightening in the air above them drew the Demoness’ attention for a moment; reptilian
slit eyes darting up to the rent that was tearing open in the darkness. A low hiss expelled upon
her breath and she wrapped her arms around the blonde Elf, sinking sharp talons into the bared
flesh of his chest. A scream of rage was lost in the sonic boom that accompanied the opening of a
portal that had nothing to do with Samara, and she yanked her prize bodily through the sickly
green vortex of her own making. The opening slammed shut, leaving a small troop of startled
Nuru’kh-ai staring after her.
He’d taken the waiting as long as he could. Rage flowed freely in his blood, narrowing his vision
and numbing the cold that constantly ate at his soul. Whispers seemed to slide from shadows,
calling him by his true name...Araxxxxmarrr...she’s ours...your Agaru, your bondmate....
Glowing topaz eyes seemed to overwhelm the green murk, and he’d risen from the fire, ignored
56
Yarwin’s shouts for him to stay put, and in seconds, a mighty Black had leapt into the air, his
claymore clattering to the stone as it fell from fingers turned talons. He’d not walk that path
again; the path of Madness, and Agaru would not be theirs.
Onyx wings swirled the ever-drifting mists in the downdraft, the watch-fires flickered, sent
sparks dancing after the dragon’s tail, then the gloom had ripped open, electric flickers
illuminated the rift as the skies of Tenobrous both screamed defiance of the forced portal, and at
the same time, invited the one who’d once walked the paths of night. This was no gentle working
of Silver magic Callan worked; it was a raping of the elements in true Black Dragon form, but
Tenobrous was an ever-shifting place, full of trickery and deceit. False exits beckoned the
Emperor, temptations to undo past wrongs, to re-live the many games of lust and blood,
caressing, sensual shadows curled around his body in this place between here and there, all of
them appealing to the Black and Silver in him, but the Rage had his focus purely on the Crimson
soul that was his beacon.
Directly over the canyon a rending scream of splitting air shook the shale walls; the Black
appeared just as Samara’s portal slammed shut, trailing fingers of brilliant electricity crackling
off his scales and striking the highest points of contact over the landscape. From above, the
sound of the dragon’s firelung filling with oxygen announced their fate to the abandoned
Nuru’kh-ai, some of which tried to run, others intent on doing as much damage as they could
before being incinerated. In seconds, a flowing gout of liquid white flame rolled out of
Araxmarr’s jaws, then vanished in a wavering of dancing heat waves.
On the ground, those brave enough to stand and watch began to chuckle, albeit uneasily as the
dragon’s flame was snuffed by the mists, but the laughter soon began to die as one by one, their
eyes grew wide. They were burning from the inside out; their skin collapsing and smoking as
flames began to chew holes in blackened, filthy flesh. Wisps of smoke lifted into the air, and
through the haze of green and stench of Uruk, Callan Blackthorn dropped to the rock floor of the
canyon, his half-Elven frame rising from the crouch he’d landed in.
“What the HELL happened here? Where is Galain? Agaru?” Topaz eyes narrowed as he
snatched a remaining, smouldering, gasping Nuru by his topknot and jerked his body off the
ground.
“WHERE IS THE ELF?”
The Uruk crumbled into a pile of ash, leaving Callan holding the hair and part of the scalp.
“Son of a bitch! That’s what I hate about that type of DragonFire.” He growled out and tossed
the remains into the shadows, which immediately seemed to swallow the hair...literally, then
grow still.
“So what the hell happened?” Callan rumbled out as he kicked aside Uruk weapons and other
metallic items that hadn’t melted, then strode over to the injured, unconscious An’Thaya. “Skinwalkers...” The word was spat out, but his hands were tender as he picked the Amazon up. She
was, after all, Agaru’s elf.
57
“Agaru?” Callan gently prodded their recently forged bond and breathed a sigh of relief that
Agaru at least was fine, though An’Thaya’s swollen eye and broken bones would no doubt
translate to the Crimson.
Lapis eyes had watched the Tenobrous sky swallow his sire in a swirling vortex of lightning and
jagged rips of green then cursed Callan Blackthorn with every word he knew, including some of
the Drow he’d heard Valin use when the arrow had been jerked free.
“Nin’dual ushdrui Fa’la zastoast!” Yarwin was incredulous and as close to full-blown,
uncontrolled Rage as he’d ever been in all his long years of life. “He could have asked for help,
could have done anything, but NO! He runs the Fuck off, leaves us here to fight who knows
what!”
The stress of this place had finally worn Yarwin Blackthorn down, and it was in this place the
heir to the Black Dragon throne would finally learn just who he was, and how strong he’d have
to be. Especially once Callan returned...
Ghet launched herself futilely towards Callan’s portal before she realized, it was too late. Galain
wasn’t there any more. Separated from him, she gave full vent to her emotions, throwing her
head back and howling. Yarwin’s incipient rage fuelled her own furious madness, and it had to
come out, before it broke her mind completely.
And what could Adarin do? He’d been hugely useless so far and now he simply sagged, moving
close to Ghetsuhm, but realizing how hugely unable he was to bring comfort to her or anyone
else. It didn’t matter how old he was, it didn’t matter how much he knew as a mage... he simply
did not have the life experience to comfort anyone and he crumpled within, feeling Tay’s grief
and more than experiencing Ghet’s.
“Ghet...” he said quietly, suddenly grinding the palms of his hands into his eyes.
Ghet. That was her. Some rudimentary instinct was telling her, she was going to hurt people if
she didn’t find some control. Her pain burned at her, but she wasn’t the only one hurting. She
turned and took Adarin in her arms, weeping on his shoulder, making both their bodies shake
with the force of her grief. Adarin had always been something of a father figure for her, and she
clung to him, hoping the sheer tactile comfort would help her get a grip on herself.
Adarin held onto Ghetsuhm and made quiet shushing noises as if he held a child. He stroked her
back, held her close and held himself rigidly. He knew that Tay was unconscious and Galain was
somehow not there.
“It’s all right. We’ll get him back and we’ll have a big family reunion at Yule and make toasts to
our adventure, swear we’ll never do this again and then we’ll move on. It’s all right, little one,
it’s all right,” he kept saying over and over.
Ghet whispered through her sobs, a scarcely coherent litany of fear. She knew what Samara was
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capable of; Ro had ‘shown’ her. That thing inside Ro that had raped her, broken her, that was
down to Samara. She didn’t doubt for a second that the Demoness could do just the same to
Galain. It wasn’t that he was weak; it was that she was very, very strong. She tried to find hope
in Adarin’s words, but the buzzing in her head was getting louder...
As for the son of Callan Blackthorn, Yarwin fell silent after muttering a final, “he could have at
least told how far out they were...” The Rage was burning his blood, smouldering, waiting,
chewing on him from within. He wasn’t unaware of the effect it was having on Ghet, but was
unable to snuff it. He’d been the fool too long, and so help him, if his sire mucked up their
chances of getting the boys back, he’d take the Emperor apart one piece at a time. Wasn’t that
what the age-old prophesy said? That the Black Emperor would fall to his son? Nargus had died
by Task’s hand...Callan would die by his. Perhaps not today, but eventually. Perhaps not in
anger, but Yarwin held Callan’s future in the palm of his hand.
Today, he’d at least remind him of that.
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Chapter 3
Shadow glared at Callan as if he had interrupted a bar brawl that she had been enjoying.
Throwing down the borrowed sword she had been able to pick up off of one of the dead, she
roughly wiped at her bleeding cheek. “What in the hell does it look like, Blackthorn? That we
decided to stop for tea and invited the local Demoness over for refreshment? Oh yeah, she
brought a fruitcake as a ‘welcome to the neighbourhood’ present. Sorry we didn’t save any for
you.”
“Tea? Then next time, by gods tell me and I’ll bring a pizza, how’s that?” Callan snarled at
Shadow, his eyes still glowing as he pushed a red curl from An’Thaya’s bloodied face and gently
prodded Agaru again, “M’Tashnae vran? Da Me’yenska? - Can you hear me?”
Shadow kicked at a severed arm in disgust then stood fascinated as a tendril lashed out and
claimed the appendage. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could someone get her up so we can get out
of here? The shadows are avoiding this place and whispering we should run.”
A grunt of agreement and a quick assessment of the canyon walls followed as Callan waited to
see if Agaru could fight her way to consciousness. His eyes followed the slope of the walls, then
studied the distance between their current location and the exit of the canyon, then looked back
at Shadow, then Ild’ashi.
“I can’t fly us out; it’s too narrow for my wings to spread properly. We’d never make it off the
ground. At least I wouldn’t. My suggestion to you, my Copper indwelt Lady, is to take to the
wind, and remain well out of reach of any Nuru weapons while I wag the Lady Alcarin out of
here. Otherwise, you can just tramp right along with us, the choice is yours.”
With a shrug of his shoulders, the Black pulled his wings in, let them disappear into his shoulder
blades, then draped An’Thaya’s limp form over his shoulder and set out for the opening of the
canyon, which as best he could tell was still at least several klicks away.
A screaming, pounding ache was the first thing she was aware of, made all the more
uncomfortable by the fact that she was dangling head first over what appeared to be someone’s
shoulder… if the hard armour digging into her stomach was any indication. Tay groaned, and
immediately regretted it, tried to open both her eyes, and regretted that as well. The skin was
split from her temple, across her eye, and onto her cheek, bruised, swollen and for a moment she
feared the eye had been slashed as well.
Whoever had her was walking at a brisk pace, and from the size and length of stride, it was a
man. Tager? No, he would never treat his daughter this way. The Amazon tensed, finally
managing to open one eye. Startled by the depth of blackness she let the pupil dilate, taking in as
much light as possible. A broad back greeted her fuzzy vision and she followed the line of it to a
finely shaped derriere on down to the ground. It was a very long way down… and there was only
one man she knew that was brave enough to handle her in such a fashion.
“REECE NIGHTFALL! Put me down this instant!” Yelling caused her head to pound even
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harder and she groaned in protest, before struggling against what she assumed was the
Mercenary. Where the hell was she? Why was it so dark? And so gods bedamned cold?
“Reece Nightfall?” Callan peered over his shoulder an up An’Thaya’s curved spine until it
disappeared behind his back, his topaz eyes getting a nice view of the bondmark he and Agaru
shared thanks to the gap between her shirt and pants.
“I’ve been called a lot of things by a lot of women, mistaken for a lot of people, but I don’t
remember anyone named Reece.” Ice-blue eyes scanned the sky seeking the Copper and her
passenger, then went back to the path. Footing here was treacherous to say the least, the loose
gravel and shale had already nearly taken him to his knees twice, and it had been one of those
jostling moments where An’Thaya had awakened. Rumbling a chuckle, Callan muttered,
“Now...Reece Nightfall? That isn’t some foul name in that S’Hean elvish of yours is it?”
The Dragon Emperor took a moment to jostle her again and shift her higher on his shoulder,
“Count yourself lucky half your face is mush right now, or I’d paddle your ass for nearly
castrating me a week or so back.”
He had no intentions of putting her down, they had to get out of this death trap as quickly as
possible, or at least get where his wings would spread...and so far, the opening had only become
narrower as he went.
The moment he spoke Tay realized her mistake, and flew into a full-blown rage. “WHO THE
HELL! Put me down! How DARE you!” The tiny redhead kicked at and beat at him with her
fists, panicked on the inside but certainly not about to let a stranger know it. The sudden burning
on her lower back did nothing to calm her, nor did the jostling. A dagger slid out of one of her
arm guards, a stab neatly aimed at his kidneys. Sparks flew as the blade merely bounced off the
impenetrable dragon armour, leaving Tay momentarily shocked speechless.
Now that wasn’t nice, a voice rumbled in her head, I’d prefer if you left my mate in one piece,
thank you.
What the hell? Oh gods… I’ve completely cracked…
There you are...I was getting worried, M’Tashnae. Your elf is putting up quite the struggle.
Though, lucky for me she’s not got a DragonSteele dagger, or my kidney would be having more
problems than just 9000 years of beer drinking.
Callan shifted his awareness from the now writhing bond mark on his collarbone to An’Thaya,
“I’d hold still were I you. I’d rather not have scratches on my back plate, and you never know
what might pop up back there. Dragon spines are odd like that.”
“Now, all the flirting aside, An’Thaya, what did you learn in Osto?”
Callan shifted her around a bit more in his arms and was carrying her like a child, his eyes
leaving the rocky surroundings only a moment. “And that looks rather nasty. You’re lucky you
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didn’t loose an eye. I could heal that...but then, that would be up to you.”
Callan… love… there is something vastly wrong with her. She doesn’t seem to know you… or me
for that matter. I think that blow to the head damaged more than her face.
“Stop talking about me in the third person!” Tay snarled at the voice in her head, “WHO the
HELL is An’Thaya, and WHO the HELL are you? Osto? A town? What town?” Wide emerald
eyes stared up into topaz, but she had stopped struggling, mainly out of shock. Perhaps a slight
amount of fear as well. Dragon’s were dangerous creatures… but she had never heard of one
taking on humanoid form before. If… that was what he was saying.
The utter darkness and bitter cold coupled with the throbbing wound on her face birthed a cold
knot of fear in her gut. She was obviously on the verge of insanity and held captive by an even
more insane man who seemed to think he was a Dragon. “I’d rather you didn’t,” the cold steel of
her dagger came up hard against his throat, pressing up against the carotid artery, “put… me…
down.”
***
It happened so quickly and Galain was still fighting when he entered the other side of the portal.
He thought he’d been escaping and doing so well. He was certain he could head for Tay and help
her, that he could reach Ghet and calm her and then...
YOINK!
It was a terribly unfunny moment for him despite the sound effect.
YOU don’t want or need me, he thought silently, unable to believe he was so neatly caught.
The scent of blood had Samara’s already singing senses aflame; she could feel it seeping under
sharp claws where they were embedded in the Elen’s chest… hot and sticky. Pulling one hand
free she slid it up the edge of his vest, over his shoulder, and licked the crimson liquid from her
fingertips. “Oh… that is where you are wrong,” she whispered, “I do need you.” The second
hand dug deeper, tearing rents in the Elf’s skin as the Demoness dragged it down over his
abdomen.
“You are my key to their pain… and you will learn to love it when I break you. They will come
looking for you, and when they do… I will take great pleasure in killing Y’Roden’s little whore.
Now, his sister… her, I will let her live. She will make an excellent bargaining tool with Tallin
Modar. I know he is eager to feel that tiny little body fighting beneath him again. From what he
tells me… she has a beautiful screaming voice.” Laughter laced with ice hung frigid in the air,
“and from what I’ve overheard through Y’Roden… so does the other little redheaded Bitch.”
Despite the pain he was in Galain struck Samara with a doubled-up fist
“Tay and Ghet are my wives,” he spat at her. “Never speak that way about them.” He stifled a
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cry of pain and tried to pull away, sucking his breath in sharply as he realized how deeply
Samara’s claws were stuck in him. He was to be bait—a way to knock the rescue group offfocus. He’d have to find a way to prevent that if he could and he gave Samara a sharp look.
“They’ll go for the boys, not me,” he said. “You’ve made a mistake—I’m expendable.” Okay,
that was a lie, but he was grasping for straws. All he could see in his mind’s eye was Tay and all
he could feel were tantalizing shreds of his bonds with his wives.
The Elen’s fist connected with Samara’s cheekbone, knocking her sharply to the side and tossing
tendrils of ebony hair across her face. A rattling growl bubbled out of her chest and she lifted her
head slightly, eyeing Galain out of the corner of an eye that glittered madly above a reddening
welt that was bruising quickly. “You think me a fool Prince Galain?” I know you… I have seen
you though his eyes. I know how greatly your wives value your life. I know what they would
give for you. HE stays his hand. You do know he would kill you if it were not for them? How
does if feel to hide behind the skirts of two women? Not much of a man are you?”
Laughing she stepped away, booted heels clicking on the cold obsidian floor of the hall they had
arrived in. “Such sweet devotion on both of their parts. I can smell the fear in you. Either of them
would offer their own lives to save you… and you know it.”
The image Galain held onto with such desperation twisted, bent itself to Samara’s will, revealed
the Amazon as few had seen her before. Frightened… in tears… helpless raw emotion as Tallin
slipped a robe off her shoulders, leaving her bared to his touch. She will offer herself up for you
safety… look what she would do for you, such love, such adoration… such sacrifice….
“You’re a lousy bitch and that’s even too good to call you,” Galain hissed at Samara, doubling
over with physical pain as his mind tried to grapple with reality and with illusion. “And they
don’t wear skirts,” he added rebelliously. He groaned inwardly though. Samara was right. Tay
and Ghet would do anything and it scared the hell out of him. He forcibly straightened himself
and gazed after the Demoness, swaying a bit. He thought about Y’Roden and wondered how
much was truth, how much wasn’t. Galain only stayed his own hand because of his wives. For a
moment his mind spun with confusion as he tried to make sense of the web of words being spun
into his mind.
“Yes…” with gleeful expression she dealt him a vicious backhand, hitting hard across Galain’s
face and mirroring the mark he had left on hers, “I am… aren’t I.” The blonde elf’s emotions
flooded the Demoness like sweet wine… and she wanted more. “You might make an interesting
playmate after all,” she mused, “a little more feisty than Y’Roden’s boy. Let’s see how you
handle pain… it is time to dance… Prince Charming.”
Where the hell had she come from?! One moment she was walking away, the next striking him
with the same force he’d struck her. Galain flew backward a bit and a hand feathered over his
face. He was stunned and then immensely angry yet again.
“I’m as boring as hell!” he shouted back. “I like pain. Hit me again!” He stopped and gaped.
“What did you do to Fechine?” he asked suddenly. “Rhagi? You didn’t touch him did you?”
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Panic danced through his chest. He’d dance if he had to as the boys’ faces flashed through his
mind.
“Nothing that he didn’t enjoy in the end,” Samara purred, “and what if I did? What are you going
to do? Yell at me some more?” This time she struck with the heel of her hand, catching him full
in the golden rose over his heart and tossing him backwards, “I love pain… at least we have
something in common. Very important for two people destined to spend soooo much time
together.”
Galain lay still, staring upward into the darkness of the hall. That hadn’t felt good... Who had
enjoyed what? He thought of Fechine again and spat, slowly sitting upright.
“No... I’m not going to yell more,” he said quietly. He clutched at the mark over his heart and
willed himself to breathe slowly. He gave Samara a wild look. So much time together? He
quickly looked away. Never had a person ever been so unattractive to him.
“How disappointing … no yelling?” The sound of hard boot soles on the floor rang throughout
the room as she came to stand above him; “Well then… we will see if your screaming voice is
any where near as lovely as your wives.” A slight gesture brought several Nuru’kh-ai out of the
shadows, “Remove Fechine D’Riel from the rack and take him to my private chambers. I want
this one strapped to it instead.”
Galain looked sharply upward, breathing in hard. That’s where Fechine had been kept? was all
he could think. He didn’t fight the Nuru’kh-ai until it was too late and then he lashed out.
“You tied him up? What did you do to him? He’s innocent! An innocent! A kid! Leave him
alone! Gods!” He kicked and spat, struggling like a madman. He not only didn’t want his wives
coming near here but he also didn’t want Samara to harm the children in any way at all. To hear
where Fechine had been... it didn’t matter whose child he was, he was—he was just Fechine and
it wasn’t right.
A grin curled Samara’s lip, her eyes flashing with amusement as she grabbed Galain’s jaw
between thumb and fingers. “I merely helped him follow in his Daddy’s footsteps,” she
chuckled, “he is about the same age that Y’Roden was when I broke him in… he will do just
nicely I think. He will make a fine replacement for what your wives have taken from me.” Cold
lips pressed to the Elen’s in a hard, biting kiss, “You can watch our next session if you like. He
struggles almost as well as his Addah did.”
Galain felt sick on a variety of levels—the kiss, the touch, the image of Fechine being broken,
the image of Y’Roden being broken. The desire and madness that ruled Samara’s existence.
“I don’t think so,” he said, spitting the kiss away. “He’s stronger than you think you know. He’s
got one hell of a bitch for a mother.”
It was a compliment, really. He was driving the thought of what she meant by his wives out of
his mind. She was trying hard to trip him up and she could succeed if he listened too much.
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“Ah… yes… well, Y’Roden seems to find that an endearing quality in a woman, wouldn’t you
say?” Taking a step back the Demoness dismissed them with a gesture of sharply taloned fingers,
“Take him away, prepare him.” Turning on her heel and tossing her ebony locks behind her, the
shapely Succubus disappeared into the shadows.
‘Lain nearly surged forward at that point but Galain held him back. Neither of them were any
good here and Samara had tripped him up, Galain realized. His head was spinning and he tasted
bile on his tongue as he was grabbed and forced away and out of the hall.
***
Every head on the ground was turned; every eye focused on the ships with open curiosity, as they
seemed to roll to a stop. Argent stood with his arms crossed, his long dark hair shifted about his
shoulders as he stared up at the ships. He separated himself from where he stood between the two
tall Shroudling brothers that acted as escort.
“That would be me.”
From several hundred feet up, Krassc Dothrae’s head flung back, laughter rolling from the elf as
he heard Argent’s reply. “You are a bear, I’ll grant you that. Not a hello and good day from you?
A simple, ‘that would be me’? I like that. The direct sort.”
The War Duke’s fingers curled around the railing as he peered several hundred feet down at the
figures standing in the distance, a span of a two hundred yards yet, but close enough he knew
they’d be smelling the exhaust, steam and burnt ozone from the ships suspensor fields.
“I am Krassc Dothrae, War Duke of the High Matriarch, Damara. We,” Krassc’s arm waved out
at the armada, “Are the Eheiling Narhn of the Diirlathe. Not so much allies of Callan Blackthorn,
but...let us say, interested parties. Tallin Modar has one of our own; E’Than is Damara and my
son. And there is one thing about Eheiling Narhn you should know, Elvish Bear, once you attack
the one, you attack the whole. Would you prefer to move up here and talk, or shall I continue to
whisper and shout?”
“Well, if we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances, I’d give you a proper greeting.”
He shouted back up, laughter in his voice. “Coming aboard!” He shouted again.
Gent waited until his feet were on the ship’s deck before he introduced himself. “Argent
Silverleaf, King of the Shroudlings, brother of the Lady High Elder of Gala Nodel,” he added as
an after thought, “All of Arlsyn…And those rather tall gawkers below are the Friesian Knights.
You’ll have to forgive them, they aren’t use to seeing ships fly.” He chuckled, “Truth be told,
they would probably love to find out how your ships work.”
The Elven Bear shook his head, “I’m sorry, I have no knowledge of your son, have only heard of
Callan Blackthorn in passing, and have only read of the Diirlathe. You have no worries from us,
if any of my men does anything against you or yours, they will promptly be turned over to you to
65
do as you will.”
“For which we would be more than grateful,” A smooth, satiny voice spoke from behind Argent.
“I am Damara, the High Matriarch of the Merchant Guild, and your people would be welcome
aboard my ships should they wish to study the workings of the them, an honour that has rarely
been extended to those outside the Eheiling Nahrn by either Pirate or Merchant guild.”
Upon the Matriarch’s shoulder was perched a healthy appearing Dante’ his feathers fluffed then
smoothed as he blinked into the brilliant light of the twin suns then made soft skreeing sounds
and nibbled at Damara’s ear in gratitude. He’d fulfilled his duty to get help, now it was time for
war.
“Why don’t you ask them up while we talk, perhaps we can discuss strategy while taking the
grand tour? The portal masters can bring them on, or they can take a skiff, whichever they are
most comfortable with.”
Smiling, Argent bowed in respect. “I thank you in advance, Lady.” On silent feet he padded over
to the side, “Hail! Daysen!” He called out before his speech changed to one that his men spoke.
An elegant soft language that even hard consonants sounded had their corners rounded. Done
with his orders, he turned back to the War Duke and High Matriarch.
“Strategy and a tour sound like a grand idea.”
“Excellent...I hope being portalled in is satisfactory? Portal Master...bring them on board... “
The air above deck shimmered, writhed, then crackled open, giving those looking within the rifts
a sense of dual vision. From here, the farmlands seemed to lie on the deck, then were gone,
leaving behind Argent’s men.
“A tour then?” Damara angled her head up at Argent, her face beaming with pride for the ships.
These were their homes, their fortresses, their way of life, and to open the freighter to others was
a show of trust between allies.
“Where shall we start?”
***
A soft rumble of laughter welled up in Callan as he froze in place; this was fun, really. So much
fire in such a small package... “So, I guess this means no to the healing part?” He tilted his head
to the side, ice-blue eyes meeting emerald in the murk, a crooked smile adorning his face. He’d
been tempted to drop her...really drop her right there on the floor of the canyon, but then, she’d
run, wouldn’t she? Although, he seriously doubted she’d get far, all the loose shale made footing
here as bad as walking on ice and scaling the now-sheer walls of the canyon would be
impossible...more than likely an attempt would start a rock slide.
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For a moment, Callan pressed his throat to the blade; his smile remaining as the blood began to
bead under the weapon and slide down his neck. “You’re on the wrong side to do much
damage...the artery you seek is on the other side for my kind...and I’d watch your fingers...”
Dark red blood was creeping down the angle of the blade, pooling at the cross-guard and seeking
to surge down the handle.
“Normally, I’d say she’s just fine, but I’m leaning to the something is wrong side now,
Agaru...after all, she’s aiming too high to be in her right mind...and there’s not much I can do
unless I force a healing on her...and even then, that would simply mend the flesh, not the
mind...but what concerns me is not your elf...but you. You scared the centuries out of me.”
While Callan’s blood ran down his breastplate and An’Thaya’s knife, Black and Silver threads
sought the Crimson of his soul mate. “If anything had happened to you...”
A startled expression crossed the Amazon’s face, her eyes flickering from his topaz gaze to the
blade. A frown creased her brow and she looked back up again, suddenly focusing on his ears.
“You’re a half-elf?” there was surprise in her tone and the pressure of the blade eased a bit,
though not before the black-red blood dripped onto her sensitive Elven flesh. With a wild curse
in Drow she dropped the dagger and brought the fingers up to her mouth, only to hiss in pain
when it burned her tongue and lips as well.
Agaru’s soul flared in response to Callan’s and the Dragon rumbled in response to her mate. The
tattoo on An’Thaya’s back writhed and burned, adding to her discomfort, as well as to the litany
of Drow profanity.
“What the HELL is going on? What IS that?”
I’m fine love. I’d not try to force a healing; she wouldn’t take to it well. I’m trying to remember
what I’ve seen of her memories … she seems to have regressed to somewhere before eight
hundred years old. Any other time I’d find this terribly amusing… but considering the
circumstances. Is now a bad time to mention that she is freezing?
Oh GODS...surely you don’t expect me to...oh for gods’ sakes, Agaru. You want me to actually
keep her warm?” Internally, Callan was reverting to mental bitching and griping as his hands
began to grow warm, then his arms, and lastly a pair of black wings folded out and covered them
both, the blood vessels contracting on the outer side to conserve precious heat, the vessels on the
inside expanding to radiate it.
“No...I am not half-Elven.” Callan ignored the lost dagger and began walking again, the cut
healing on his neck as he did, but not for his own comfort, the blood might as well have been
acid to the S’Hean, “I think you may have lost a little time in that memory of yours.” Blue eyes
lifted, searching for the Copper he could feel the Pull from above, nodded in satisfaction that she
seemed alright, as well as the passenger on her back, then back at An’Thaya. “Tay?” Callan
spoke the name with more than a little reluctance, the last time had nearly made him a eunuch,
“Is that what you were called then? I am not an elf, in anyway. I am a dragon, a Black, and an
Emperor...and THAT is a bondmark, one that if I’ve not forgotten in the past few weeks, is of a
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black dragon tearing your flesh across the top of your hind end.”
An un-Amazonly shriek came out of Tay as black wings enfolded her, which only increased her
ire. The warmth was soothing, however, and she petulantly stilled while staring up at Callan. “A
dragon?” her tone was laced with icy sarcasm, “and an Emperor? Right… and I’m an Elven
Princess. A bond what?” Though the better question was … how did he know her name? It was
starting to dawn on her that something wasn’t right… besides the fact that she was being carried
by a complete stranger through what appeared to be… hell.
Oh stop whining and keep walking, Agaru scolded affectionately, don’t forget, I’m in here too…
and I’m not particularly fond of the cold either.
Muttering and complaining, Callan grunted at his mate, then sighed a long-suffering sigh. “Well,
okay, you got me...I’m not an Emperor, I’m just an average joe dragon posing as an emperor,
okay? Anyway...” he shifted his load a little better and gingerly pulled a mass of crimson hair
from the clotting blood on An’Thaya’s face with one wing claw, “It seems you’ve taken a rather
nasty blow to the head, you ARE a Princess, married to an Elen elf named Galain, bonded to his
uncle, the Elen King, have gods know how many kids, are tattooed in more places than even I
am...and I’m nearly 9000 years old.”
“THAT tat on your backside is a bondmark...a mark of soul-mates...and lovers...but I assure you,
half-elf, it is NOT you I’ve slept with, but your Crimson.”
“Think now is a bad time to mention you leaving me on a ledge with her one morning?”
“We are in Tenobrous, the rest are waiting at an abandoned outpost, waiting for word on where
several abducted children are...any more information than that needs to wait until your head is
clear, Thaya.”
“Married? Bonded? Lovers?” Tay opened her mouth as if to say something more, then
immediately closed it and blushed as deep a shade as her hair.
The Crimson, meanwhile, was turning blue with laughter. Oh… Callan… Tay, at this age, was a
complete innocent. I think you’ve traumatized her. Are we near the end of the canyon yet?
“Traumatized her? Me? You’re the one who keeps talking inside her head...and its not like
traumatizing HER is a problem. I’m rather enjoying it, really.”
“And yes, blessedly, we are nearing the end of the canyon, probably not the confusion...”
***
A black skinned, slavering mug leaned in close to Fechine, sniffing at the boy’s face for a
moment and leering before pulling back. “Jus’ like ole’ times,” the beast commented to his
counterpart, “Looks alo’ like ‘is ole’ man don’ ee? Oi think ee’ll do well.” A long strand of drool
dripped off the Nuru’kh-ai’s chin, splattering onto Fechine’s chest and seeping into open
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wounds. “Le’s gettem moved.”
Clawed fingers released the locks on the clamps that held the Prince on the rack and gripped
arms that were numb from lack of circulation, hauling the naked boy to his feet just as a second
pair of Uruk’s pushed in the door, dragging a struggling Elen Prince between them.
Galain was cursing fluently in Drow and elvish although unfortunately his curses were probably
being construed as compliments instead by the hulking menaces who had hold of him. He went
deadly silent though when he saw Fechine and felt an immense pang of dread and anxiety grip
him.
“Fechine?” he asked softly, bracing his feet against the ground in a momentary endeavour to stay
put. “They’re coming. We’re coming.”
I just accidentally got here first by a more direct method, he thought to himself with frustration
as he was forced forward. He drank in the details of the boy’s physical state and tried to reach
Tay and Ghet’s minds. Unfortunately Tay seemed unconscious or... she was confused... and
Ghetsuhm? It was difficult to plumb her mental state at the moment.
I see Fechine! He sent sharply before he elbowed one Nuru’kh-ai and spat in the other’s face.
The chestnut-haired youth looked up at the sound of his name, the expression in his emerald eyes
almost dazed. The gaze that was usually brilliant with good-natured mischief was shadowed with
horror and grief. At first he could hardly believe what he was seeing. “Doro Galain?” he
whispered in a voice made hoarse by screaming. For an instance pure joy filled his eyes,
followed a second later by doubt. Was this just one more of Samara’s tricks?
“No fraternizin,” one of the burly creatures growled, dragging Fechine bodily toward the door,
“Mistress wouldn’ like that much. You should’ve waited afore bringin that un in.” The second
pair of Nuru’kh-ai rewarded the statement with a flat glare, then roughly dragged the Elen
towards the rack.
“I don think Oi’ve ever seen hair that colour,” one observed to the other, “think Mistress’d mind
terribly much if I hacked off a lock or two? Be a mighty fine gift fer m’lady.”
The second snorted and rolled its beady eyes, “Jus’ gettem on the rack will ye? ‘Tis a feisty
one… Oi’ll give em that much.” With a grunt he shoved the Elf onto the blood slick steel and
held his arms down while the other clamped Galain’s ankles.
“Suppose we should strip’em down?”
“Nay, Mistress likes doin tha part ‘erself.”
And Galain had to laugh. Well he’d be staying dressed if he played it right. He loved his wives
and wouldn’t betray them. He had two rings on his fingers that promised that though the vows
were soul deep for him.
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“I’m real,” he said and sent to Fechine. “Totally real. I just got tripped up. The rest are coming.”
He didn’t struggle for a moment and then found himself bound to the rack. He stared up and then
down and then let out a litany of curses.
The boy could hardly believe it. Someone was here. Someone was really coming to rescue them.
He had prayed so hard that they would, but prayers seemed almost futile in this dark place and it
had been hard not to have doubts. “Wait! No... Where are you taking me? Leave him alone!
Doro Galain!” He struggled against the hold of the Nuru’kh-ai, desperate to get free.
“Now laddie,” one of Fechine’s captors chuckled, “It won’ be so bad. We’ll just get ye all
cleaned up like for the Mistress, find ye somethin’ t’ eat. It’ll be fine… you’ll see.” The door
slammed behind them, leaving the others to finish strapping down the struggling Elen Prince.
***
Reece wiped at his face, using the sleeve of his shirt to rub at the rivulets of sweat running out of
his hair. The night had been unusually cool for Whispin, a blessing for the Dragons who were
laboriously digging under the wall. The going was slow, the need for quiet a paramount one.
They could only dig so far before the dirt that had been churned up had to be loaded up and
carted off. It would take several nights to break through to the subterranean tunnels and Y’Roden
wanted no evidence left of what they were doing to be stumbled upon during the day. Reece and
several of the Dragon’s in humanoid form shovelled the earth into great buckets that were then
hoisted up by a large Black who carted it off a safe distance and dumped it.
The S’Hean Magi could only do so much to dampen the noise, and were stretched to their limit
every time the great beast beat his large wings on take off. Each time he flew off over the
treetops Reece murmured a quiet prayer to Arminiea that the Dragon would not be heard… or
seen for that matter. The double moons that raced across the sky could be traitorous things,
revealing a flying shape in their mad dash across the heavens.
“More water,” he nudged one of the Dragon’s in humanoid form beside him and gestured
towards the scaled beast that was currently backing out of the hole. When it reached level ground
the Dragon shifted, sitting down hard on the ground in human form, obviously suffering from
heat exhaustion. “Send someone else in to replace him.”
Deep beneath the surface Akav was carefully watching the progress of the tunnelling. It was
slow and compounded by the oppressive humidity. Even the stone seemed to be fighting them as
they dug yielding after what seemed like hours. With the daily assault the twin suns levied on the
ground the rock never got the chance to cool. It held the heat of the day and at least the surface
had some air movement. Akav had shifted from his dragon form to his Elven one leaving as
much room as possible for those digging. Sweat trickled down from his scalp to his legs,
“Dhuragar!! Look out!” he shouted as rock shifted of its own. They needed to slow down even
more in order to shore up fragile junctures or risk getting buried. While for the dragons this
would be a minor setback, the tremors that might be triggered in a tunnel collapsing would alert
Tallin faster than knocking on the door.
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Now fine dust clung to the sweat on Akavian, “Everyone out for an hour.” With that the two
dragons shifted to humanoid form as well as Akav moved out emerging just as Reece was
ordering new in. Akav came over to Reece; “We need to stop for a couple reasons. Rest for one
and we need to find a way to shore up the walls inside, either by magic or by DragonFire, fusing
the walls.” Either option was within Akav’s skills but it did require no one else being in the
tunnels at the time. Taking the first ladle of water he doused it over his own head, the second one
he drank completely, wiping his face with his arm.
“Vitrification?” Reece said, his gaze on the tunnel behind Akavian. The concept was one the
SandShadow was familiar with; the Obsidian Nomads used the process to create unbreakable
glass and other such trade wares, among other uses. The Mercenary himself was capable of it,
but not on the scale that the Dragon was suggesting. “That would probably work, go ahead and
take a crack at it after you’ve had some rest. We still have a few hours before the first sunrise.”
Akavian nodded “Yeah some food, water and rest then I will give it a try.” Akav headed for the
water and food and sat down. “I think there’s enough of the right substances to glazed hard
enough to the job.” he commented to Reece. “I think we’ve gotten at least a third of the way in
now but this heat is making the progress slower. Those digging are going to need even more
water just to keep from overheating. A hunt would help too.” The second son of Nargus downed
another tankard of water.
***
Shadow had scowled at Callan, more out of a need to focus her annoyance on something, or
someone, closer than what the Demoness was at the moment, and to hide her worry for both
An’Thaya and Galain.
“Don’t get use to giving me orders.” She stated flatly then spun away to ignore him. She only
took orders from her fathers, one of whom was dead, another on a completely different plane and
the last one was assumed to be dead. She didn’t think of Galain in that sense any longer, it just
seemed safer that way. Other than that it was one of her brothers, and she didn’t follow their
orders without a fight.
“Kit; just do what he tells you. Now is not the time to rebel, and you can pick an argument with
him later.” Her twin’s words drifted through her mind, along with a glimpse of what appeared to
be dusk, through his eyes. Inwardly she wished she was standing beside him to enjoy the dying
light, outwardly she rolled her eyes.
“I could be dead and on the ninth level of hell, and he would still order me around.” She
muttered, stepping away from the others. A swirl of sparkling silver and forest green mist with
ribbons of pale green enveloped her, allowing her to shift into the dragon form she had used
earlier.
With a slight groan she stretched like a cat then turned her angular scaled head to face Ash.
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“All aboard who is coming aboard” She sent, crouching down so that the S’Hean could mount.
Get on and grab a couple of spikes.”
Ash wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream in fury, and only found any move of the like had her
reeling in pain. Her ribs, her hips, every joint and bone in her body cried out in agony as the
Ranger nodded, winced and grabbed on long, wickedly shape spike and swung herself up on the
Copper.
“I don’t like leaving her with him...I don’t trust either of them to not carve one another up in the
time it takes to clear the canyon.” Ash muttered, then regretted it. Her head might well explode
before the day was out. The cold air hitting her in the face as the dragon made its leap from the
canyon was the only thing keeping her conscious....
“We can stay right above them if it makes you feel better, actually, it would make me feel a bit
better as well.” Shadow replied as she beat her wings then glided above the walking pair below.
“Don’t worry about them, you just stay with us. We’ll get back to the others, and see what can be
done about getting the two of you patched up.”
If she could have, Shadow would have started gnawing on her bottom lip as she worried about
the Amazon below and the Ranger she carried.
At the end of the canyon, Callan Blackthorn slogged to the top of the rise, slipping and
scrabbling at some points for traction, then growled a low, “to hell with it,” Black wings spread
and already strong arms crushed the redhead to his chest as black armour and crimson shirt slid
away, revealing scarred half-Elven flesh, then momentarily grew rough. Black scales smoothed
across his body and in seconds An’Thaya Alcarin was held aloft again the Black Dragon
Emperor’s chest plates, his massive upper arms blocking a great deal of the cold as he spiralled
into the air, his wings making a low thudding sound that could be felt more than heard on each
down stroke.
“I hope someone knows which way we’re going. The portal homed in on Agaru, I have no idea
where we are in relation to the outpost, or which direction I came from.”
Tay was wildly gibbering in the back of her mind; it had started somewhere around the moment
she had been crushed against Callan’s chest and escalated as the half-elf shifted to dragon form,
tactile and visual proof that he was indeed what he claimed to be. Though it didn’t do much for
the Amazon’s faith in her own sanity.
The blush had deepened as rippling muscle and scars had appeared, as well as a crimson dragon
that peeked at her over his shoulder. The explosion of scales and sudden shift in size left the
redhead feeling impossibly small and she was unusually quiet. Somehow, though, the change in
form was reassuring. The Dragon was less threatening than the man, something familiar in a
situation where nothing else was.
There was a dragon once, one of the few beings Tay trusted. A Velvet wing Black that was a
great deal smaller and a good deal less scaly than this particular beast… but even still.
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That way, the voice of Agaru spoke up in the Amazon’s mind again, though she was addressing
Araxmarr, from what I can make out… Adarin is that way.
Adarin… Callan had mentioned him. Her bondmate? What exactly did that mean? Certainly
not… that, not if the other…the one named Galain was her husband. Confusion set in again and
the Amazon groaned, letting her head drop against a massive chest plate. Her head hurt too much
to think, and her thoughts kept leading her in circles as it was. For now, she gave in to the urge to
sleep.
***
Just as soon as Akav had finished eating he considered this ample time for rest before he headed
back into the burgeoning tunnel. After ordering away any others who had been clearing away
debris he entered going all the way to the rear. At this point he shifted to his dragon form and
prepared his firelung for its task.
Then with controlled gouts of nearly liquid fire he began the slow task of sealing the walls and
ceiling so that no collapse would occur. While the stone still eddied in liquid form he pressed his
heavily scaled form along the walls and ceiling smoothing and evening out the now vitrified
tunnel. He repeated the pattern again and again until finally he re-emerged hot tired and nearly
drained completely.
Moving just clear enough for others now to enter and continue the digging the great Blackthorn
Black spread his wings wide and let the heat he’d gathered into them eddy into the cooler night
air. He needed water badly and more food soon too. But at least the tunnel was stable now until
the next length would need to be likewise fortified. As it was now this tunnel would not fall in
unless something cataclysmic would occur. It was also wide enough to allow ten or more men
abreast to march along it or a full sized dragon to navigate it with ease.
Sahar brushed at the dirt on her cheek as she leaned against the shovel that was in her hands. The
shadow being stared down into the tunnel and jerked her chin as one of the diggers emerged.
“How’s it coming?” She asked, passing the dragon water.
“It’s coming.”
She nodded, not expecting much more of an answer than that. It seemed as the deeper they got
dug, the slower the going. But it was to be expected.
“Wouldn’t mind an idea of where the next fissure starts in the rock.”
Dark eyes narrowed at the humanoid form for a moment before she tossed the shovel at him.
“You fill buckets for awhile.” She added as she hopped down into the mouth of the tunnel and
headed into the darkness, shifting as she went to avoid being struck.
Sometime before the first sun began to rise, the digging teams withdrew from the tunnels and
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packed up while the S’Hean Magi wove the illusion of solid ground over the freshly dug holes.
Discreet portals opened and they retreated back to base camp, preparing to wait out the day.
When darkness came again, they would return and finish their efforts. Reece paused on his way
into the shimmering vortex, his sight impaired by the darkness, and he hoped the Elves hadn’t
missed anything in the clean up. Trusting in their night vision he stepped through behind the
others, ready to find his blankets and finally get some sleep.
***
Every Bride deserves a proper wedding day, and Tallin was determined that his intended would
be provided one. The throne room was filled with roses from the garden and illuminated with
hundreds of candles. The Bridesmaids wore shackles, the Groomsmen wore chains, every one of
them a captive… cleaned up, fed, and dressed in black gowns and doublets respectively. Mind
you, it had been a struggle convincing some of them to change, and a few of the groomsmen
sported fresh bruises.
Tallin himself was dressed in black robes, a hijacked crown firmly settled on his brow. The altar
was set up with chalices of wine, candles, and a rather wicked looking dagger. The Officiate had
yet to show, but the Demon Mage knew for certain he would be there. “It is a fine day for a
wedding,” he said to Fionna, “don’t you think my dear? Now… we just await my lovely bride.”
The blonde half-elf gave him a cold look. “I hope you have to wait forever” she said, far from
impressed.
Mysti simply smiled as she entered behind her groom. “Oh, I’d say the few centuries he’s
already waited are long enough...” The blood red gown clung to every curve, the circlet he’d
placed on her head when he’d proposed rested softly on her brow. Her chestnut hair hung in soft
curves down her back, almost inviting his fingers to curl into it. She avoided Brianna’s eyes,
unwilling to see the disgust in those bright blue depths that had gazed with so much trust in the
past. She stepped around to Tallin’s side, sliding her arm through his.
Brianna kept her eyes firmly on her own husband, knowing he could see the confusion and pain
she was attempting to hide from the bride and groom. No point giving them anything more to use
against her than they already had. The collar she wore chafed against her neck and she attempted
to shift it gently, accidentally showing where it was scraping against her delicate skin. Her eyes
showed a determination under the pain and confusion... a determination to get free, and a
promise to her husband that they would be free again.
“Ah… there you are my love. You look simply stunning.” The Demon Mage offered Mystical
his arm and brought her to stand before the altar. “Now… I’ll be needing the blood of a virgin…
bloody difficult thing to find these days.” Ice blue eyes traveled over the Bridesmaids, the
uncannily beautiful features of Tallin’s face twisting in an amused smile. “Not quite innocent
enough Fionna dear… Brianna… no, you definitely will not do… so… shall it be Meghan, or
Si’Lyen. Don’t worry girls, its just a little blood, not a sacrifice… which one of you cares to
volunteer?”
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Sil’s eyes went wide when Tallin asked his question. She shot Meghan a quick look and paled
visibly. She was truly wondering when this nightmare would end and she’d wake up safely at
home in her bed, but she was still here, about to witness the most bizarre wedding she’d ever
heard of. Red suited Mystical perfectly though she thought with uncharacteristic cattiness. She
gave Tallin a cool look now, mustering her courage together.
“I will,” she said quietly.
***
Rhodry shifted his weight and leaned a little further out the window ledge he was seated on, his
eye focused on the troupes below, a mass of horses and men trying to find some order beneath
brightly colored pennants that marked the Houses of the Lords. “It is going to take an least a day
to reach Corin,” he muttered, “Several days for some. Zenith is going to be hell if we don’t reach
deep woods on time… though the horses will do better than the men.”
“Aye… it’s a risk, but an unavoidable one,” Lord Wyvern agreed, “They are almost ready to set
out. I took the liberty of sending word to your men at Castle Arketh. They will be joining us
along the way… and… I also signed over this.” The redheaded human tapped the Mercenary on
the shoulder with a scroll and Rhodry settled back onto the cold stone, eyeing the Lord for a
moment before accepting the parchment and unrolling it.
“Well… that makes it rather official, doesn’t it.”
“As I see it, my Clan has held your lands in trust for far too long.”
Rhodry scratched under his eye patch and sighed before giving a grudging nod. It was time…
well past time, that he acknowledged his birthright… if only for his people. Corin needed every
leader it had right now.
Below Rani moved through the gathering forces carefully keeping Telpe’s reins in hand. She
wanted to see up close if they collect skilled warriors or softened landholders. She had
commanded far too many such excursions in her day and she found it best to know her strengths
for what they really were. The S’Hean warrior was fully ready for any battle to come. In fact her
need to avenge the wrongful death of B’Rodyn as well as the others kindled fire in her peridot
green eyes.
Even though what she was seeing for the most part was good well trained people there were a
few who came out of loyalty or otherwise that perhaps had not seen conflict like that which they
marched to in a few centuries. She looked about for Lord Rhodry until her gaze rose to the
window above the courtyard. She saw he there in conversation with Lord Wyvern wondering just
what exchange passed between the two Lords. Something had changed in Rhodry since the night
before and Rani could not detect what as yet.
The gaze of one brilliant blue eye met that of Rani Al’Trekis for a moment and Rhodry found
himself caught up for a moment. The fire in the depths of those peridot pools was a magnet to the
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roguish mercenary, but in a way that had never been triggered before. There was still more than a
small amount of conquest involved, but when the Captain of the S’Hean guard entered the
human’s thoughts… there was more to it than just the game. She was an equal, worthy of his
respect, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that.
“Rhodry? Cat got your tongue?”
“Aye,” he answered Lord Wyvern before thinking, “a Hell Cat at that.” A low laugh on his
companion’s part broke the blonde man from his reverie and if he had been capable, Rhodry
might have blushed. “Eh, shut up. It’s time to saddle up and ride out.”
***
Jacen glared at Mysti when she walked in, yes she did look rather good, but after what’d she
done he really did not want to touch her. Tallin received an equally frosty look, especially as he
was so close to Fionna. He along with the other men seemed to be manacled in place, unable to
actually get near the women. He knew why they were here; Tallin would take great pleasure in
their discomfort, not only physical but also mental. The Knight’s pale blue eyes tried to catch
Fionna’s azure.
Fionna’s gaze landed briefly on Jacen’s and then slid away again, the blonde half-elf gazing at
the floor rather than watch this perversion of what was usually such a beautiful ceremony.
Confused emotions roiled within her. Relief that the knight, as well as the other men, were still
alive. Guilt at the pleasure she felt in seeing him when surely she should feel nothing so soon
was it after her break up with Rein. Distress that any of them had to be here at all.
Y’Roce’s face sported several bruises threatening to relieve him the disgust of witnessing this
sham. The brief moment he felt relief when they’d come to gather them up to clean them and
feed them fled when he learned the reason. He hardly felt this union would secure Tallin’s hold
on the stolen throne and his vocal opinion of that fact won him the new coloration and swellings.
He still chaffed at the collar wanting above all to let his father know now was an especially
vulnerable moment to attack. He could just barely see Imoreki standing in what could only be the
best man’s place. The only good thing he saw there was the fact that Ki was indeed alive and his
blood link had not failed him. Still Imoreki looked to be in a dazed and hollowed state. It made
Roc all the more angry with this Tallin and his whore of a bride.
“Gods, Si’Lyen. Don’t!” Fionna exclaimed as the elder blonde woman spoke. There was disgust
in her deep blue eyes as they landed once more on Tallin and Mystical. “Listen to yourself, for
pity’s sake. I don’t expect any better of him, but Mysti... What of the fact that your witnesses
have to be chained to remain here? That those captives include your own daughter! Do you truly
feel nothing? What would An’Thaya and Y’Roden say if they knew of this... wedding? You
claimed to love them. You called An’Thaya your bondmate and Y’Roden your brother. Now you
wed the man you murdered their father. Mysti... please... don’t do this.”
Mysti turned her eyes on Fionna. They were cold as she looked at the other woman. “Do not
speak of what you do not understand, child...” Her eyes flickered over Brianna, noting that the
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blonde would not look at her. She looked over the males, knowing each would break free in a
heartbeat if he could, and that the women would do the same... And then she turned back to
Tallin. “Shall we?” Suddenly impatient to be away from the censoring eyes of Fionna and
Brianna, she wished to get on with things.
Indigo eyes flickered in the light of the hundreds of candles as Meghan drew herself up straight,
felt her fear bleed away, and in its place was stubborn defiance, and beneath that, the elf maid
felt something begin to burn. She was not Kin, not one drop of anything aside from the purest
blood of the oldest Elf kind ran in her veins, but the fair haired child of the Starlight Born began
to feel rage.
“Oh yes, lets get it over with, I mean after all, I’m sure her feet are hurting from laying on her
back so much lately.” Meghan hissed out, her face draining of all colour. Lavender shot eyes
landed on Mystical, her body began to shake with anger. “You...you...slut. You of all people who
could heal at a word...” All the anger that had built in Meghan since watching her own mother
shove her father off the balcony in her childhood home began to eat at the dam she’d so carefully
built for thousands of years...and once she’d found her tongue, Meg was determined to use it in
all its scalding, acidic glory until Tallin cut it from her.
“There are prostitutes that are more deserving of life than you, you... you treacherous bitch. And
my mother thought so highly of you...Mira let you in, let you heal her soul.” Meg’s voice was
rising into an enraged shout, tears coming to her eyes the force of emotions breaking through the
shy and timid shields. “I. Hope. You. Rot.”
That said, Meghan spit at the bride, landing a glorious glob on the bodice of her dress, a talent
earned from so much time spent in the presence of several young D’Riels and Alcarins. “Wallow
in it.” The elf-maid’s glistening eyes went to Si’Lyen, her voice growing cold and distant. “They
want virgin blood, they can take it from me.” Meghan knew this would be something of a last
stand but knew the reality of the situation. More than likely, Tallin Modar would kill every one
of them before help could come, and once it did? What then? The orders to kill them all could be
carried out before the city walls were breached. Meghan Ilessandra, daughter of Mira and
Brandubh Badb Catha was going to give them hell until then.
E’Than’s clenched jaw turned white as he looked on at Melaina’s mother. He knew what the elfchild was going through, knew she’d come to a point that she no longer cared but shifted his eyes
to Meghan, the look of warning for silence obvious, but still her tirade went on. E’Than’s eyes
went to the D’Riel throne, then to Tallin.
“How long? How long do you think this will last, Modar? You think Y’Roden D’Riel and those
allied to him will just walk away? While you play at being the lover and master in the same bed,
I’d wager there is a storm gathering...” The Arms Master’s voice was quiet, soft as he tried to
distract the groom to be from the ranting Meghan. “You have no idea what you’ve began, do
you? Arrogance...arrogance blinds people. They say its pride, but its arrogance in the end. And
you’ll not even see it coming. The rightful heirs of this city and its holdings will crush you like a
cockroach.”
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Tallin’s expression was one of mild annoyance, the ice blue of his eyes glassing over to jet-black
as he placed a hand on the small of Mystical’s back and guided her towards the altar. “Such
language,” he scolded Meg, “Do you kiss your Mother with that mouth? Oh… that’s right, you
are an orphan, silly question.” The words were tinged with amused laughter and the Mage moved
close to the two young women, his fingers brushing over the Star Child’s mouth, black tendrils
of magic lacing over her skin. When he withdrew the tips of his fingers, the young woman’s
mouth was sewn shut with tight black thread. “Consider yourself fortunate I did not cut out your
tongue.”
Grabbing hold of Si’Lyen the dark haired human yanked her towards the altar and threw the Elf
onto her back, forcing her skits over her hips and revealing silken thighs to the congregation.
“Y’Roden D’Riel will do as he is told,” Tallin said calmly, “as long as I hold his treasure.” A
cold hand ran up the inside of the Princess’ leg, fingertips grazing the warmth beneath soft
undergarments. “I hold his weakness in the palm of my hand.”
A gleaming blade appeared in the hand that had just caressed Si’Lyen’s flesh, drawing an angry
red slash across her flesh where hip met groin. Blood welled, leaking down onto the cold stone
surface, sizzling and filling the air with the scent of Aethyr, the magic of D’Riel blood. A low
chant accompanied the movement; the words indiscernible save for one… Haldanuru. A name,
spoken with reverence, rife with power. It may have been a summoning, but had more the taste
of a request, an invitation.
A dull roar shook the throne room, a tremendous suction of air snuffing the candles and plunging
the gathering into darkness… Then, one by one, the wicks re-lit, bathing startled faces in their
flickering glow and revealing the guest of honour.
Whispin’s God of Darkness appeared humanoid for the most part. It was the cloven hooves and
bull like horns that ruined the illusion, or perhaps it was the red tinted flesh… or the yellow
serpentine eyes. Leaning in close to the Daughter of Y’Roden D’Riel the God inhaled sharply
and grunted in appreciation, flicking out his long tongue to lap at the blood running freely down
her leg. “You are quite lovely my child… such a thoughtful gift. Or…was that not the reason
you called for me Grendorin? You promised me the redhead… what was her name? An’Thaya?
That Elen beat you to her virginity though, did he not? Shame… such a shame… I would have
enjoyed her. Flame and chaos in that one… delectable.” Pausing he moved his heavily horned
head and sniffed at Mystical, “Ahhh… I smell her on this one… yet again, no virgin. Pity.”
“Milord,” Tallin interjected, “this one, is to be my bride. We wish to be joined under your law.”
Once the startled shock settled into quiet panic Y’Roce could feel revulsion and horror battling
to press the nausea he felt to the surface. He felt like he was nearly emasculated standing there
virtually helpless to do anything about his half sister’s defilement. He knew full well why this
Wyrm called Tallin hobbled them all. Modar was really weak and the fool knew the power even
the youngest D’Riel could wield against him was strong. Roc knew in that very instant Tallin
really feared them all. For now Y’Roce did all he could sending what comfort and hope he could
muster along the only channel Modar could do nothing about, their blood link, to not only
Si’Lyen but also Imoreki and any other there he could touch. E’than was oooooh so right and
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Y’Roce knew it. Time was what they needed now patience, time and opportunity and should the
gods bless them at all they would survive this too.
Brianna stayed silent, rage filling her eyes. She focused on the Psi talents she had gained when
she and Jason had bonded, and drew on those to call out to Meghan. Hush, my friend. Now is not
the time for anger. I’ve known Mystical for many years, and despite the darkness at the forefront,
there must be something else that we do not know... Oh yes, the Elven princess could read her
adopted mother much easier than Mystical believed.
Mystical focused on the God of Darkness, her eyes meeting his without fear. Meghan’s words
had struck deeper than the Star Child would ever know, but the Ali-Maera could do nothing. Her
word was given, and it ensured the safety of her two daughters, one of whom Tallin would never
know of if she could help it at all. The two sides of her were merging, an odd combination of
darkness and light. If the price to protect Amilyn, Melaina and Conlan was her soul, then she
would give it freely, had given it freely. The heart loved where it would, but Mystical had fought
for nearly a thousand years to deny that she loved Tallin in any form... She could not deny that
now. The wyvern that covered more than half her body was proof of her soul’s choice.
Jacen was relieved Fionna seemed to be okay, but was not comfortable with the way Tallin
looked at her. He watched in horror as Meghan’s mouth was closed in a unique fashion. Oh what
the hell, might as well say something while I still can. “You’d be surprised at how good she is at
lying on her back, I’ve had first hand experience, and not just that position either. I never
realized her legs parted so easily, it’s a wonder they’re not permanently open. She’ll have to have
a Y-shaped coffin.” There was a certain smirk on his face that probably wouldn’t be there for
long but he had to insult her somehow.
Mysti turned a slight shade of scarlet in her rage and then her temper cooled ever so slightly, just
enough to keep her skin it’s normal translucent shade. She knew Tallin would handle him, as
he’d left her collar on, she still had no magic she could access and could not do anything to
silence her former lover.
“A gentleman,” Tallin murmured without looking at Jacen, “should never kiss and tell. Such
crass behaviour for one who claims to be a noble Knight.” There was a cold smile on the
human’s face as he turned and took Fionna’s hand, striking where it would hurt the instigator the
most. Drawing the blonde half-elf forward, Tallin looked up at his Lord and Master. “For you
Milord, a gift. Not as pure as you might like, but there is a certain innocence about her that stirs
the blood.” Dark curls spilled around the Mage’s face as he turned his head slightly to regard
wide blue eyes, “Trust me, there are worse fates my dear. Such as that one over there,” he
gestured briefly towards the Blue Knight, then laughed softly as Haldanuru reached out and
pulled Fionna into his muscular embrace.
“Very nice, my son. I accept this token of your esteem, and I shall bless the union between
yourself and your chosen one.” Taloned fingers stroked down over the Elf’s bodice, tearing the
fabric and revealing her charms to his glowing serpentine gaze. “Shall we begin?”
As far as Sil was concerned it was over for herself. Shame, pain and nausea filled her. But it was
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better that it was she and not Meghan who lay here though she would never forget the fear and
revulsion she’d felt when the god had looked at her. She shot a quick glance at Fionna and felt
her throat constrict. Trembling fingers pulled at her skirts as she tried to cover herself. She
couldn’t bear to look into anyone’s eyes right now.
The blonde half-elf gazed upwards at the demonic form that held her fast with a mixture of
horror and dawning anger. How dare Tallin think he could treat people like this? How dare this...
this... THING just... Words failed her. “Begin? Why yes, do let’s begin this mockery of a
wedding ceremony,” she all but snarled, her blue eyes dark with rage.
Jacen’s anger reflected that of Fionna’s as he watched the Demon salivate over the half-elf, his
teeth clenched. He wanted to rip the mage apart piece by piece. Inside him that which was the
armour stirred, it was at that point the Knight realized they might all have a chance. “Get your
slimy hands off her” he shouted at the thing, “or I’ll...well I’ll do something nasty you won’t
like!” It sounded stupid even for him but he couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. If a few
choice insults were all he could manage, then that’d have to do. He still hadn’t learnt to keep his
mouth shut.
The eyes of the God turned on the Knight, his great horns tilting as a room shaking bellow burst
forth. One cloven hoof cracked the marble flooring as he stepped towards the human, snorting
rings of smoke and shaking his head like a frenzied beast. “SILENCE! LEST THE WRATH OF
THE GODS STRIKE YOU!” What seemed a dismissive gesture with one cruel taloned hand had
the Knights hands groping at his nether regions, seeking something that was no longer there, a
second gesture sent Jacen flying into the wall, knocking over candle stands and flowers. The
chains that bound him sucked against the wall as if magnetized and a rib crushing pressure
sucked the air from the human’s lungs. “YOU will be silent,” Haldanuru snarled, “if you are a
good little boy, I may return what I have taken from you. Or… perhaps I will just put them in a
jar and give them to my new pet. She seems to have them there anyway.”
“Milord,” Tallin spoke up through barely restrained laughter, drawing the dark God’s attention
back to the ceremony.
“Ah… yes,” Haldanuru settled back, crushing Fionna in one arm and sniffing at Si’Lyen for a
moment before raising his gaze to the bridal couple. “Very well… long have you lived in my
service my son, I am pleased with what you have accomplished in the past few days. Therefore, I
give you my blessing. Tallin Grendorin Modar, do you take this woman to be your lawfully
wedded wife in all that shall come to pass?”
“I do, Milord.”
“And you, Mystical Bellator, do you take this man, Prince of Corin, now King, to be your
lawfully wedded husband in all that shall come to pass?”
The Ali-maera had stifled her urge to giggle at the Knight’s predicament when the God began to
speak. “Aye, I do.”
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“Then let it be so,” one red skinned hand brushed over those of Tallin and Mystical, leaving
behind onyx bands on their wedding fingers set with rust red rubies, “I now pronounce you man
and wife, under the Laws of Whispin… under MY law.”
At the back of the chamber a dark mist formed, coalescing into the tall slim figure of a woman.
Skin as pale as porcelain glowed in the light of the candles, in dramatic contrast to the ebony hair
that fell like a dark waterfall down her spine and the black eyes that dominated her delicate
features. The skirts of her long black gown rustled slightly as she made her way down the aisle
towards the small group assembled by the altar. “Hush, my dear. Do not struggle so. You will
only make your fate worse,” the woman said in a voice that whispered across the senses like the
touch of velvet.
Fionna froze in Haldanuru’s grasp, her blue eyes widening. “You!” she exclaimed in a horrified
whisper of recognition.
Nuuruhuine gave a small smile. “Indeed. Me. How nice to see you again, my sweet.” The blonde
half-elf flinched away from the finger that trailed slowly down her smooth cheek. “An excellent
choice if I may say so” the Battle Goddess continued to the God of Darkness. Her dark gaze
turned to Tallin, “and you...”
The tall woman stepped closer, circling the bridal couple. “An... interesting choice.” She brushed
the tip of one finger across Mystical’s cheek. “You have made a powerful conquest, my dear. I
must applaud your... talents.”
Mystical pulled away from the Goddess’ finger. “Goddess or no, do not touch me again.” Her
voice rang like frozen wind chimes. “That is a right granted only to my husband...”
The Knight could barely breathe; certainly not enough to form any sort of words. The pressure
was so great, the more he tried to struggle the more pain it caused. Surprisingly enough what had
been taken from him didn’t hurt at all. It might be a good thing that he couldn’t speak; it would
probably be at a higher tone than usual.
His blue eyes widened as a familiar female entered the room, oh God no, not her. He took up
struggling against the invisible bond once more only to be rewarded with pain. He gritted his
teeth against it and finally gave up. There was nothing he could do but watch.
“Greetings Nuuruhuine,” Haldanuru greeted, “you are just in time for the reception. Shall we all
retire to the dining hall to celebrate? Or… were the two of you intending on consummating the
union right off? I could clear the altar if you like.”
Imoreki, who was standing closest to the alter, finally snapped out of his pain hazed reverie and
launched himself forwards, covering his sister and pulling her skirts over her bared legs. “Leave
her alone,” he growled, pain obvious in his emerald greens as he glared up at the God. He hauled
the strawberry blonde to himself and rolled away from the bestial looking creature. What had he
been thinking? Why hadn’t he moved before?
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A Nuru’kh-ai’s massive hand clubbed him in the side of the head, reminding the young Elf
exactly why everyone else had been smart enough to stay where they were. Even still, he had his
sister away from the altar, clutched in his arms even as they hit the floor.
A sigh escaped Tallin as he watched the rather idiotic rescue attempt and he tucked Mystical’s
hand under his arm. “Let us go celebrate our union,” he muttered, gesturing to the Nuru’kh-ai
with one hand, “return them to their… accommodations.”
Mysti smiled. “As you wish, love... Amusing as the altar idea sounds, it would be a bit foolish
considering Brianna and Jason have non-magical abilities that could put a knife in my flesh… or
in yours... And I would so hate to see that perfect form marred...” Mysti’s smile turned
suggestive as she slid a delicate finger down the front of his doublet.
“And there I was thinking a reception was such a good idea” Nuuruhuine purred. In her eyes was
a deadly spark. With frightening suddenness her hand lashed out, tightening in the Ali-maera’s
hair and pulling her head back to a painful angle. “Do not...” she said coldly, “Ever presume
again to tell me what I may or may not do, child. Powerful mage you may be, but you are not my
equal, and with this trinket you wear...” Her free hand tapped at the collar around the brunette’s
throat, “you are not anything more than Modar’s plaything, regardless of this ceremony. Don’t
ever forget that.”
She let go abruptly, with such force that her captive was tossed to the floor. “Beware playing
games, Tallin Modar. You are no God, and even your Kingdom is not yet secure. Make sure you
don’t lose what you have gained out of pride or foolishness.”
Tallin’s hackles seemed to rise as he tossed his dark cloak over one shoulder and took a
threatening step towards the Battle Goddess. “Back off Bitch,” he snarled, “or have you
forgotten that you need me as much as I need you? Mess with my plans… and I’ll make certain
you don’t get what you are after.” Leaning down he wrapped an arm around Mystical’s waist and
pulled the Abjurer easily to her feet. Ice blue eyes bled black with rage and power, fully
confident in the presence of his God. “NEVER touch what is MINE.” The folds of the cloak
wrapped protectively around Mysti’s form, shielding her from the black lightning the Mage drew
down, a portal of un-light enveloping the pair and transporting them to Tallin’s chambers.
“I’ve always liked that about him,” Haldanuru rumbled in amusement, “so melodramatic. Come,
Nuuruhuine, join me and my pet for a drink and we shall discuss this alliance you have formed
with my chosen child.” Stepping down off of the dais he released the Knight from constraint,
letting Jacen fall to the floor in a rattle of chains and a body-shaking thud. The Nuru’kh-ai had
begun rounding up the captives, snarling and laughing in guttural chokes and coughs as they
poked and prodded, herding males and females alike to their respective holding cells.
***
Ghet lay in the dirt. It was the perfect place. She was completely hopeless. She needed to reestablish her bond with her husband. That bond was Adamantine. It was absolutely unbreakable.
There was nothing Samara could do to take that away except kill him, and if she’d wanted to kill
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him she would have done it already. No, Samara wanted to play with her toys first, like a cat. A
big stupid smelly butt-ugly screaming whore-bitch cat. Ghet would stay bonded to Galain while
he went mad, while he used her like Ro’s demon had, and she would love him when he killed her
just as much as she loved him now.
She kept failing to connect. She knew it was because her mind was too disturbed, and knowing
only upset her further, and made the whole thing worse. Her mind pulsed with rage and grief.
She was plagued with memories that were becoming increasingly surreal and confused, Galain
and Ro becoming indistinguishable. Sanity was not like a switch: there was a great deal of grey
between sane and mad, and Ghet was lost in it.
There was a thunder of wings above them, but she did not look up. That would be the others
returning, having failed to protect the thing she held most dear. What did it matter? Nothing
mattered, except that now she knew for sure she would have to do what she’d intended. At least
she wouldn’t have to try to stop Galain coming with her. She laughed shortly.
“Ghet? Ghet!” Bran hauled her to her feet and shook her slightly. “Come on. Snap out of it. We
need you.” The expression on the redhead’s face worried the elf. He glanced up towards the sky
and then back to the woman before him. “Come on Ghet!” Taking a deep breath, he slapped her
across the cheek.
Adarin turned sharply when he heard the unmistakable sound of a slap. He berated himself for
being unable to help Ghetsuhm more effectively, but his mind was torn over the condition of
Tay. He knuckled his forehead, pinched the bridge of his nose and then gazed anxiously at Bran
and Ghetsuhm before he looked upward and saw the dragons. Up there was Tay. The Elen king
extended his senses, trying to figure out what was happening in the Amazon’s mind, but she was
asleep and he could only clench his fists helplessly and wait for the dragons to land.
Ghet’s anger flared out from her and struck Bran. She couldn’t help it, she couldn’t control it.
She also punched him. She probably could have helped that.
She was immediately contrite. Having hurt someone she cared about was enough of a shock to
snap her out of it, albeit briefly. She wrapped her arms around him. “Gods, I’m sorry, I’m so
sorry.” She pulled back and pushed her hair out of her face. “I’ll be okay now. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it” Bran replied, in a slightly winded voice, barely resisting the urge to double
over in pain. He gave the redhead a slightly rueful smile. “Gods, you pack a punch. Remind me
never to get on your bad side.”
Topaz eyes of the massive black glowed like starlight in the murk filled sky and serpentine
pupils widened and contracted as his large head swung side to side as he spiralled ever closer to
the outpost. Looks like everyone is getting along just fine down there... he snorted and rolled his
head back, eyeing the copper and her passenger, then the pair intent on knocking some sense into
each other.
Impressive Badb Catha... Callan’s mirth filled tones filtered through the awareness of all below,
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and one pair of lapis eyes turned up, watched the Copper and Black disappear beyond the outpost
walls, slightly pointed ears heard sand and gravel spray the wood and stone that separated those
within from the horrors without, the felt the earth beneath his feet shudder as the many tons of
dragon flesh settled to the barren landscape.
“Adarin...help me get the gates open...” The Shai’ay muttered and slowly unfolded his arms then
sprinted for the gates, enraged with Callan or not, the longer the four stood and waited the
greater the odds were something out there would begin stalking them. As it was, in the dark
corners of the outpost one could hear the ticktack sounds of arachnid claws scrabbling on
flagstones...the waited, ever watchful for the usurpers of their home to stumble into the shadows.
Araxmarr was too large to land safely in the courtyard, not to mention the buffeting wind off his
wings alone would have scattered the roaring bonfires and set what wood remained alight.
Dragon feet pounded the ground as his weight settled on his haunches, then again as the Copper
landed nearby, her half-frozen Ranger sliding to the ground, her body shaking in violent tremors.
Il’dashi was near frozen, her normal dark complexion pale, her lips blue and her body shaking in
an effort to stay warm.
Bi-colored eyes peered up at the many fires set along the ramparts that made the sky glow orange
and yellow. The S’Hean forced her jaws to part, her tongue to work, but only one word would
form, “Fire...”
“Aye...fire...or we’ll have four ice-icicles,” Callan muttered, his upright form shifting, melting,
the figure of the red-headed Amazon Queen held in his arms.
“So, do we have to hail you or give the correct password?” The Black asked of Yarwin and
received no response, only a roiling blackness of Rage from the pup, nothing else. “So...you’ve
found your Rage in my absence? Good. You’ll need it. Now open the gods’ be damned gates...”
Callan’s tone shifted to a near growl, this wasn’t time for expressing one’s self.
The heavy scraping sound of wood on wood indicated the bars were being lifted, the barricades
moved. A metallic thunk of bolts being pulled from the stone foundations and rock and mortar
lintel finally preceded the slow swing of the gates being opened, not much, just enough to allow
the forms of those who’d returned in, then swung shut behind them. Ash waited quietly behind
the other three, then slipped within and found the nearest fire, slid to the ground and leaned
forward, close enough that her face soon flushed from the warmth she’d done without for so
many long hours.
“Adarin? I believe this belongs to you, though I warn you,” Callan turned on his heel, the
unconscious An’Thaya shifted about to better hand her off to the King of Alcarinque, “She’s not
entirely herself...or maybe I should say, she IS entirely herself. A bit of time seems lost in that
mind of hers, though more than likely, what she’s lost of her mind won’t be that big of an
issue...” Callan grumbled and gently handed the limp woman off to her bond-mate.
“I think warmth; fire and something hot in her belly would be the best medicine. Take care of my
mate’s skinwalker, elf.” The Emperor muttered softly, his concern for the Crimson colouring his
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voice, then nodded and turned. An explosion of white and scarlet light greeted him as a Rageborn swing of Yarwin’s right fist connected with his father’s left eye and split the tender flesh
around the brow ridge, sending blood pouring down Callan’s face and the Emperor rocking back
on his heels.
“WHAT IN THE NINE LEVELS OF HELL WERE YOU DOING!? YOU GODS’ DAMNED
LEFT US!” Yarwin snarled and closed the distance between he and his sire as he felt the dam
break within him. All the rage at Callan for the years he’d taken his Madness out on Yarwin and
Mira, for the threats made to his Rachel, for the fear for his own unborn children when Callan
had suggested he’d merrily kill her and her spawn before the children he had once viewed as
bastard mixed breeds could draw breath. It mattered not to the Shai’ay that Callan had been lost
to the Roesor d’Viggtuii or that he was still half-mad when he’d crawled from the Keep shortly
before his daughter’s wedding.
Another swing caught the reeling Callan in the jaw, but the Dragon’s vision was rapidly clearing
as exhaustion burned away and another rush of adrenaline set in.
“I sincerely hope...” Callan grated out, twisted his neck and rolled his shoulders, the sound of
crackling vertebrae crunching in the heavy air. The dragon growled again, wiped blood from his
eye, his voice a low, rumbling sound that echoed off the inner walls of the outpost like the distant
warning sound of thunder, “You plan to finish what you started, whelp.”
****
Nuuruhuine watched the captives be dragged off with a dispassionate gaze before turning back to
Haldanuru. “Indeed. Let us talk. Alliances can sometimes be most profitable,” she said coolly.
Her dark gaze shifted to the blonde half-elf the demonic figure clutched tightly to his chest. “And
as for you. It’s so good to see you again, my dear. We really ought to get to know each other a
little better, don’t you think?”
“Get to know each other? You have to be joking? I know more than enough about you and I have
no desire to know any more,” Fionna spat. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re allied with
that… that… MONSTER?! What’s in it for you? What do you want?”
“Monster is such a harsh term,” the Battle Goddess said, unperturbed by the young woman’s
evident anger. “As for what I want... well... perhaps we shall just wait and see. I’d hate to spoil
the surprise after all.”
“Surprise? What surprise? What are you DOING?” Fionna struggled in the God of Darkness’
grasp. “Let me go, dammit!”
“Let you go? Let you GO?” Candlelight flickered off massive horns as the God threw back his
head and laughed uproariously. “Ah… my pretty little pet, you belong to me now. There is no
letting go.” He did set the blonde on her feet however, and snapped a thin glittering leash onto
her collar. “Mmm… hmmm… that dress is all wrong. Let us go with… a little … less.” The
mere thought triggered a change of attire, leaving Fionna clad in a filmy bit of fabric that hung
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from a gold chain at her waist and a bit of gold gilding in prominent areas. “Much better.”
Giving the lead a tug the horned god moved towards the entrance to the Banquet Hall, dragging
the half-elf along behind him as he inhaled and snorted in delight. “Mai’Tus Wine. It has been
awhile since I’ve enjoyed a good glass of Mai’Tus wine. Nuuruhuine my dear… you will get
what it is you are wanting. Don’t let my Child worry you any… he will do as I command. I
would prefer that the entire D’Riel line be extinguished, but if you can exert control over certain
members… I may be persuaded to look the other way.”
“I think I can exert enough control for our purposes” the dark-haired Goddess said with a chilly
smile, “the ones of interest to me may in some cases carry D’Riel blood, but they are also Badb
Catha females and in this instance that is far more important.” She slid gracefully into a seat and
regarded Haldanuru with cool composure. “Badb Catha women frequently possess certain...
traits that can be of great use to me. The eldest... Arianne... is something of a problem. A ‘thorn’
in my side as well as your own.” Nuuruhuine gave a short laugh. “The ones in question,
however, are but children and children can be tamed so much quicker. Hold them and I also hold
the hearts of their mother and father in the palm of my hand... which would remove two of your
more annoying problems too.”
Fionna stumbled as the God tugged on the leash, almost falling to her knees. Even the danger of
her position was lost though as the full horror of what the Goddess was saying struck her. “No!
You can’t! They’re just children...”
“Well,” a chair creaked beneath Haldanuru’s weight as he seated himself and poured a glass of
the purple wine, “If all goes to plan… Arianne will not be a problem much longer, for any of us.
My main priority is the Child of Light. Tallin lost sight of that goal at some point, but I have not.
Light’s Hope must come under my influence… I WILL have her.”
A sharp tug on the leash brought Fionna into his lap and the God merrily gave her bottom a
squeeze. “I think An’Thaya would look lovely in one of these get ups. We need only destroy the
Patriarch… Y’Roden is what truly stands between us and conquering the light. Tallin can have
the Kingdom he has been howling about all these long years, you can have the children you
seek… and I… will have Arminiea and Jaran at my mercy once I get my claws into the Weeper’s
chosen child.”
“Perfect. Little did my dear little Arianne suspect when she chose to bond her lifeline to that of
her mate that he would be the ultimate cause of her downfall.” The Battle Goddess laughed, her
ebony hair flowing down her back in a silken wave as she tossed her head back. “The sheer irony
of it is delicious.” Dark eyes flashed. “He may have attempted to deny me her once, but I will not
be denied forever. Indeed they have merely handed me even more power than they could ever
have imagined. The dark magic of the Badb Cathas is more powerful than even they realize, but
once combined with a D’Riel conduit...” She smiled, “the sheer scale of it will be beyond mortal
comprehension.”
“Get your filthy paws off of me!” The blonde half-elf slapped at his hand, struggling to get out of
the God’s grasp. Fury blazed in her azure eyes. “The pair of you disgust me! You... You...”
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Words failed her. “LET. ME. GO!”
“Peace, child. You will only make things worse for yourself” Nuuruhuine purred. She leaned
forward and grasped a handful of Fionna’s golden locks. Tears of pain welled involuntarily in the
rich blue eyes as the fingers tightened. “You know nothing about which you speak. If this
disgusts you then you have much to learn... and I’m sure your new Master will be delighted to
teach you everything you need to know.”
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Chapter 4
Adarin held An’Thaya close, worried by Callan’s words, but nodding. Of course he would take
care of Tay. His eyes went hard for a moment, then softened, realizing that the other had a vested
concern in Tay’s survival and well-being as well.
For the moment he focused solely on the Amazon, ignoring the by-play between father and son
as he set to making Tay as comfortable as possible.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said softly.
The change of hands and the sound of voices roused An’Thaya from the deepest of sleep and she
stirred in Adarin’s arms a little. Blinking blearily, still unable to see clearly out of her wounded
eye; it took her a moment to focus. Something was going on, blows were being exchanged…
what the hell? Emerald greens focused on the face above her, seeing blue eyes at first, then the
unfamiliar visage of golden hair.
The Amazon tensed, her breathing growing rapid again, “Who? What? Where did Callan go?”
Confusion kept her from going for her daggers for the moment, but she struggled weakly against
the man that held her.
Adarin went cold when Tay asked her question and started to struggle. But he held on, releasing
his grip slightly.
“He’s all right and close by,” he said. “I’m Adarin.” He gazed at her, and then he shifted his hold
and laid her upon the ground. “Just Adarin,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”
The Amazon was silent for a moment, curling her fingers into the dirt as she studied unfamiliar
blue eyes. He is your bondmate, Agaru said gently, see… Gold threads tangled within
An’Thaya’s souls ignited softly, tracing a path that connected it to the Elen King’s. He won’t
hurt you.
I wasn’t overly concerned about him hurting me; Tay shot back at her body’s co-inhabitant.
What is this? Pass the redhead?
“I feel like hell, and I don’t much care whether he is alright or not,” she growled, lifting her hand
to hesitantly touch the wound that slashed across one eye. “What happened to me?” Anger was
rearing its ugly head, frustration and fear at being in an unfamiliar situation with no memory of
how she got there. There was, however, no denying the connection she had to this man she didn’t
know. And there was another? Good Goddess… what had she become?
Rummaging about in her own soul she found a myriad of things that were unfamiliar,
disconcerting. A small golden shard was among them and she brushed at it curiously, gasping in
surprise when she was rewarded with a vision of sea-green eyes.
Galain...
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Adarin sensed it all and rocked back on his heels, waiting until that magical name shot through
both her mind and his.
“Yes, Galain is your husband,” he said. “You’ve been hit. We’re trying to rescue several children
from Samara Mirage and you’ve been wounded.” He didn’t mention Galain’s capture and just
waited. He averted his eyes and looked elsewhere. Perhaps their bond was too new, but he’d
sensed a shock and something akin to revulsion over the multiple bonds. His very old soul could
feel a lot of things and so he kept quiet, letting Tay’s anger and confusion meld together for the
moment.
“I don’t understand,” her tone was tinged with pain, her concentration shattered by the
Blackthorn brawl in progress. “Samara?” Nothing rang a bell… “Where is Galain?” That name
at least struck… something. A deep sensation of love and desire… yet there was a twinge of …
resentment and a great deal of pain. The combination made even less sense and Tay’s head
started to pound unmercifully.
Adarin grit his teeth, determined to block out the fight behind them and he tentatively reached a
hand out.
“Samara has him,” he answered. “Might I try to soothe that headache of yours?”
An’Thaya jerked back instinctively, the wariness back in the depths of her eyes. “Who the hell is
Samara? What in the name of the Gods are those two doing over there? Why… why do I have a
husband AND a bondmate? There are others linked in here too… and what is THAT?” She had
begun to poke at the D’Riel Web, a scattering of threads that led to several people in the
darkness and beyond, and great many more that seemed to end at an intangible wall. “For that
matter… where did she come from?” The other presence in her head was obviously draconic, yet
a part of her. It was too much all at once, millennia of changes. Memories lingered like wisps of
mist, clinging here and there to her mind, reminders of joy and pain that lacked proper meaning.
“Gods dammit, I’m Tay Terne, daughter of Tager Terne… not … whomever it is Callan said I
was….”
***
A march of three hundred mounted men left Castle Wyvern around mid-morning, a slow
procession of organized battalions riding under their Lord’s respective banners. Rhodry tilted his
head back a bit and shifted slightly to the side, eyeing the banner fluttering to his right,
displaying the Arketh Lion in bold bright red. It was a mix of feelings that burned in his blood…
but there was a slight glimmering of pride mixed with the regret and pain that image conjured up.
He could… and would, bring honour to his family name again.
“Greetings Arketh.” The voice startled the ex-Mercenary out of his reverie and he turned his
head to look in the opposite direction to the banner. “It has been a long time since I’ve seen that
banner fly.”
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“Lord Black,” Rhodry acknowledged with a nod. Lord Tobin Black was the only other Corinian
noble with Obsidian Blood, the only man that had seen as much or lived as long as Rhodry
Arketh. The Mercenary had spent many a year in the other man’s barracks, but more
importantly… had called him friend during childhood. “Tobin, how are things?”
The massive blonde Lord barked out a laugh and clapped a large hand onto Rhodry’s shoulder.
“Good, good. Still as heirless and full of wanderlust as you I’m afraid. My advisors blame it on
the Obsidian genetics. Bloody nomads they say, can’t stay still long enough to take a piss.”
“Aye, well, they are probably right,” Rhodry chuckled, “Ride with me until your men join up
with us. Lord Tobin Black, meet Captain Rani Al’Trekis of S’Hea.” The Lord’s men were one of
several battalions that were to join the regiment on the road. All totalled the army of Corin
numbered close to fifteen hundred men. Lord Wyvern was certain he could round up another five
hundred by drawing in Mercenaries and drafted men, and Rhodry had every faith that he could
manage it.
“A pleasure M’Lady,” Tobin bowed low in the saddle and smiled at the S’Hean Elf, his bright
blue eyes dancing.
Rani fought the blush rising to fill her face. She was not accustomed to the honorific noting in
her mind how her mother would have felt over it. Despite her chosen course of life she was still
Lady to her bloodlines and had to face that fact like it or not. “As it is mine, Lord Black.” His
crystalline blue eyes could only be outmatched by the spark she’d found in the singular one of
Rhodry’s. Both these men unnerved her to her core in a way she had no idea what to do with it;
being sandwiched between them wasn’t helping. Just then Telpe head butt Tobin’s horse and
thwacked Rhodry’s with her tail, making Rani have to pay attention to her horse. “Telpe,
behave!”
Both Obsidians reacted to the rough treatment at once, moving to slam into Telpe from each side.
Rhodry snagged Rani by the waist and roughly pulled her over onto the front of his saddle as the
two blacks made a sandwich with dappled silver filly filling. Just barely swinging one of his own
legs out of the way onto his mount’s withers.
“Whoa! That was close, nearly lost a fine pair of legs there Milady,” the reinstated Lord Arketh
chuckled. “Your mare might better learn to behave herself around these brutes,” he grinned,
“Obsidian’s can be rather foul tempered.”
Telpe reared hard snagging her tack in that of both Blacks and pinning Lord Black to his horse.
The silver appaloosa whinnied and kicked fruitlessly into the air. Rani on the other hand did not
know whether to thank Rhodry or take his head off for his forward moves. In a sense both
females were rendered impotent in the combined efforts of horses and rider as Rani’s long
slender legs gave rise to imitating those of Telpe. In addition her belt snagged the pommel of
Rhodry’s saddle making it impossible for her to settle onto his horse’s shoulders. The trio now
became an amusing tangle to the warriors in close proximity. Somehow Rani was certain this
moment would spread like wildfire among those accompanying them. Foul tempered Obsidians
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were nothing compared to foul tempered hellcats. “Rhodry Arketh, unhand me!!!!” The barely
controlled sniggering only fed her ire.
“Yes Milady!” the blonde man barked out, letting go of the Captain who then swung freely on
the pommel of his saddle, giving him a fine view as she went bottoms up.
“Holy Hells!” Tobin bellowed, “You might have mentioned she hasn’t been broken in yet!”
“Well I’ve tried!” Rhodry shot back, “but she is a handful. Oh! Oh! You meant the horse!”
Tobin made as if to say something, then simply dissolved in helpless laughter as he attempted to
disentangle his black’s reins from Telpe’s.
Rani was far from amused over the comments made at her expense. From her bottoms up
position she levelled a hard kick landing it on Lord Arketh’s shoulders. This only served to free
her from the pommel and send her sailing gracelessly over the head of his black. Landing hard
on her shoulder Rani rolled and righted herself brushing dirt from her clothes briefly and
snagging the reins of Telpe to get some control over her.
The whole time Elven expletives spewed from her in an undertone making promises to balance
the scales in time. Once Telpe was no longer bucking loosing the tangled gear was no problem
and Rani pulled her horse from between the males and could be heard mumbling something
about men as she deftly swung back into her own saddle. “Don’t you have a battle to fight
gentlemen?” she asked laced with as much disdain and sarcasm as she could muster.
Both men chuckled as they steadied their mounts and watched the S’Hean woman get her mare
under control. “Hey, you are the one that seems to be taking a break,” Tobin grinned, “mount up
woman, before we get left behind.”
Rhodry didn’t say a word; he merely whistled tunelessly and clicked at his horse to start moving
again, pretending to scratch at an imaginary itch beneath his eye patch as he rode past Rani.
Rani glared daggers at Lord Black before kicking Telpe into a fast trot moving ahead of both
men jostling past Lord Wyvern on her way to get duly in front of both men.
***
Adarin pulled back away from the Amazon as soon she declared her name and identity—or at
least what she thought was her name and identity.
“Well,” he said slowly. “You are Tay. Which questions do you want answered first? It seems
rather obvious about those two though,” he said, jerking his head back toward Callan and
Yarwin. He was half-tempted to tell her she had a husband, wife and two bondmates but he
could tell An’Thaya was already dealing with a little more than her short-circuited mind could
handle at the moment.
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Shadow pulled her flask out of the inner pocket of her vest and crouched down by one of the
fires, taking a generous swig as she watched the Blackthorn males beat on each other. “Idiots.”
She muttered, wiping the lip off she looked over at the S’Hean ranger and offered it to her.
“Good strong whiskey will ease the pain and help you be rid of the cold.” In all honesty, she
couldn’t feel it; it was just her make-up.
As for the bloody idiots, Yarwin danced back from his sire, his body dropping into a defensive
crouch that could easily carry him the distance that separated he and Callan Blackthorn,
“Aye...I’ve got what it takes to finish it, do you?” The Shai’ay leapt forward and landed on the
balls of his feet, his fist just missing Callan’s nose.
The Dragon Emperor had waited until a split second before his son’s fist slammed into his nose,
leaned back just a hair, then snatched Yarwin’s wrist as his momentum carried him forward and
jerked him off balance. It was Callan’s turn to dance just out of the reach of his son; “You think
so? I think you’ll have to do a damn sight better than that...pup. Or has that skinwalker of a
woman you married and bred tamed you too well?”
Lapis eyes ignited into full-blown Rage, not the simmering anger and bottled emotions he’d
barely kept under control. Yarwin’s full weight slammed into Callan, surprising even the
Emperor as he took his father to the flagstones.
“DAMN YOU!” Yarwin’s fist flashed down again, this time making contact with Callan’s jaw
with a satisfying crunch of bone and teeth. “Just because you choose to spend your life alone,
doesn’t mean you have to treat the rest of us as...”
Yarwin’s words were cut off by a black blade, its point whispering to his throat and drawing a
drip of black red blood.
“Get. Off. Me. Now. Or your wife will be the one living alone.” Callan’s voice was low and cold,
ice blue eyes narrowed as he waited for Yarwin to back off, an action that brought fresh blood
welling up and slowly running into the hair at his temple and ear.
Yarwin angled his jaw back, pulled his throat away from the blade and felt it follow his
movements, Callan was keeping the pressure firm enough to remind him that his blood could be
spilled far worse than this and with only a flick of his wrist. Lapis eyes rolled down as Yarwin
watched his sire, met his eyes. The Rage had him too far gone to walk away; he would not cave
so easily as he had in the past.
The Shai’ay drew in a deep, shuddering breath, felt the surge of oxygen flood his blood, felt the
exhilaration of the rush that came with Rage and carefully pulled away, felt Callan’s own blade
slide into his armguard. Two more deep breaths allowed Callan on his feet and left him shaking
with unspent Rage.
“No bad, whelp” Callan dragged the back of his hand across the thickening blood alongside his
eye, then wiped the blood on his crimson shirt, “...but you’ve got to learn to control yourself
better...and better yet...never trust a wounded dragon.”
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A silvery blade shot from Callan’s fingertips with a snap of his wrist, drawn by the hand Yarwin
had not been watching. The Shai’ay’s breastplate leaked blood as the DragonSteele slammed
home in his shoulder just before his sire’s left fist caught him in the cheekbone beneath his eye
and once again the two went down with a crash of dragon scale and foul language.
Sparks of electricity lit the air as Yarwin’s fingers reached for Callan’s jaw. There was no
question about it, if given the chance today; Yarwin Blackthorn would kill his father.
***
Agony tore through Imoreki’s spine as the Nuru’kh-ai charged with his care twisted both arms
behind the Elf’s back and shoved him roughly down the flagstone hallway. They had torn
Si’Lyen out of his arms and dragged her off in the opposite direction. He had been too weak to
fight, too wracked by pain to resist as he was borne off to the stairs that led into the bowels of
Castle Corin itself.
The dungeons hadn’t been used in several thousand years, not since the Castle had been returned
from the dark dimension of Tenobrous. The cells were damp, musty, and caked with dirt, which
Ki got a first hand view of when he was tossed unceremoniously onto the floor. The Prince
grunted in pain once then lay still, breathing rapidly as he waited for the spasms in his back to
pass.
The Knight followed Imoreki in a painful heap on the floor. The Nuru’kh-ai had simply dragged
him by legs from the chapel where he lay. As if it wasn’t bad enough that his chest felt like a
whole army had been sitting on it, his head felt like that same army had marched over it. Plus
there was the small problem, no make that large, not small, of certain vital bits of his anatomy
were currently missing. “I think I’ll just lie here and die if that’s alright with everyone else,” he
said. Was that in a slightly higher tone than usual?
Anger seethed in the second eldest D’Riel as he was unceremoniously chucked into the cell
again landing face first in the musty dirt and grime of the ancient cells. This had gone on too
long now and whatever those demon and god types were up to at present seemed to be
effectively prohibiting any kind of rescue. These evil masters were even approaching success in
diverting each of them to their own self-needs thus thwarting any unified efforts to topple their
plans. This Tallin Modar was not going to get away with this and it seemed, to this particular
D’Riel, to have fallen on his shoulders to do something about. But just what, he didn’t really
know. At least this time they were only shackled at the waist to ankles leaving hands free. Little
did this matter however, for those shackles evidently had some iron in them to serve that purpose
too. Causing pain and burns wherever it touched bare Elven flesh.
Y’Roce roared in frustration, only to lapse into a hacking hoarse cough from the dirt. That collar
was a curse right now, for every time he tried to reach out to the Aethyr it was as though it was
veiled from him. He could see it; just not touch it. Roc crawled across the floor to where Ki lay
breathing raggedly, clearly in pain from his ordeal. The older boy knew full well the torment the
younger had over their sister’s defilement. Roc had felt much the same but had not been as close
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as Ki had been. Gently he rolled Ki to his stomach and deftly tried to ease some of the pain in his
brother’s back. Visions and sounds of the gallows the pair had been strung to rattled in Roc’s
mind and heart along with the fears of what they had done to Ki in the meantime.
Imoreki closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the pain, then releasing a small sigh of relief as
some of the pain eased. Turning his head the young elf looked up at the ever-silent Jase, then
E’Than, finally coming to rest on the doubled up human on the floor. “Where is Addah?” he
murmured mostly to himself, “what is taking so long?”
Jacen groaned some more, “I wish someone would come and get us, that horned git has a couple
of things that belongs to me”. He closed his eyes and banged his head on the stone floor, “why
couldn’t I just shut my damn mouth?” He didn’t want to think what that thing was doing to
Fionna right now.
E’than was the last to be thrown into the cell. The Uruk he’d screamed and bellowed at when
he’d first been thrown down here had been the one to escort him back down the stone stairs...and
had made certain E’Than had been held back, then learned every crack and cranny of the steps
well, and face-first. E’Than’s thick muscles in his back and arms flexed as he tried to stop his
fall, then saw white and scarlet, then green and purple as he finally came to a rest at the foot of
the stairs. A massive, booted foot planted itself in the centre of his chest and began grinding
down on him, pushing the air our of his lungs, what little was left, then stopped.
“’e’s not to be killt, not yet...” A smaller, nimbler Orc poked the Uruk in the back. “Toss ‘im in
there...or I tell Modar you killt him whether you did or not...” The armsmaster felt himself
hoisted up, then thrown into the cell. The sound of crunching bones and a choked gagging sound
was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness and the Orc was tossed in with them, its
throat crushed by the Uruk’s hands.
***
One moment, they were in the Banquet Hall of the Castle, the next; they were on the steps
leading up to Haldanuru’s throne. The Eastern Continent of Whispin was largely unexplored,
home to the Drow and renegades, a wild untamed place that the Dark God ruled without
contention. It wasn’t enough of course, the Western Continent was in his sights, and he would
not give in until Arminiea and Jaran bowed before him.
His demesne was buried deep within the earth, a massive labyrinth of black rock and liquid
flame that smelled of sulphur and other less pleasant things. The God inhaled deeply, arching his
back and spreading wide his arms as if to embrace the ambience of the place. “Welcome home,
Fionna, my dear,” he rumbled, tugging roughly on her leash as his cloven hooves clattered up the
obsidian staircase. Below in the catacombs his minions danced naked around blazing fires, their
golden skin slick with sweat and glittering in the firelight. Drums beat a never ending primal beat
that pounded through the blood and numbed ones thought process, sending the dancers into
frenzied gyrations as the name of their God rose in a chanting refrain.
“They love me,” he rumbled, “as you will learn to love me in time.” Coming to a halt near his
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throne of bones the horned beast bent to attach Fionna’s leash to a loop of metal inserted into the
bedrock for just that purpose. “Bring wine and food,” he ordered a servant, “I wish to dine with
my new pet.”
“Love you? I loathe you” the blonde half elf retorted, tugging futilely at the leash for a moment
before glaring at the God with resentful anger. “How dare you? What right do you have to treat
people this way? I am a person. Not some sort of pet.” She spat out the last word.
“Who am I? I am a GOD,” Haldanuru bellowed, “All shall bow before me and give me the
respect I deserve. I MADE you… all of you, my brethren and myself! Arminiea and Jaran may
be content to let you all walk all over them, but not I. NOT I.” A taloned hand wrapped around
Fionna’s throat and forced the blonde onto her knees, “You will worship me, every last one of
you. I will shatter the Sword of Peace, and I will own Light’s Hope. You, my dear, may very well
be the key to their undoing.”
Suddenly all the pain and frustrated rage the blonde-haired woman had been repressing for the
past month or so boiled over in a virulent flood. “I. WILL. NOT. You are nothing. You are
beneath contempt.” Hatred blazed in her azure gaze. “Go ahead. Do your worse. I don’t care. I
don’t care about anything any more. The man I love decided I was nothing more than an
unwanted encumbrance. Our child died before it could even be born. Why should anything
matter after that? Do you think they will come for me? You are wrong. I am nothing to them.
There is no blood connection. My father is dead. My mother is Silverthorn Badb Catha, now
Arianne D’Riel, but even she did not care sufficiently to stay around for longer than it took to
give birth to me.” Shaking from the force of her rage, her chains clinking against the ring to
which they were attached, the half elf was oblivious to the pain of his tight grip around her throat
or the abrasions on her knees from the rocky floor.
“Ah,” Haldanuru chuckled softly, “you underestimate the pitiful weakness of the light my dear.
Someone will come for you. For she would never let another suffer in her place. Through her
compassion will Light’s Hope find her doom, and in her weakness, I will find my victory. By all
means, wallow in your self pity my lovely, your suffering is beautiful.”
“Go to hell!” His amused words did nothing to suppress the anger roaring through the young
woman’s veins. The silvery magical fire that was her birthright roared up from the core of her
soul and, for a second, even the collar was not quite sufficient to contain the sheer fury. Silvery
sparks shot from her fingertips for a brief instance before the collar regained control.
Raucous laughter burst forth from the dark God and he tossed his horned head like a bull getting
ready to gore an opponent. Her fire was rousing, and eventually, he would take her to his bed.
Haldanuru, unlike his chosen Child, was a very patient entity. “Go to hell? My dear… we are
already there.”
***
Bria kept her eyes on Jase as the Nuru’kh-ai shuffled them roughly off to their respective
dungeons. Her eyes never left his form, as if trying to tell him without stretching Psi abilities
further than they already had that she loved him and that all would work out somehow. She was
starting to weary from keeping the bond open to Mel, noticing that it was starting to flicker, she
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apologized to her sister, who simply told her to shut it down and rest for a while. She gripped
Meghan’s hand and reached to take Si’Lyen’s as well, in case the guards would send Ki back
with the men...
And Ki had been sent on with the men, leaving Sil to sob aloud as she staggered away from him
and miraculously caught Bria’s. Her wound burned and her shame was intense as they were
pushed and prodded back to the chambers where they’d spent far too much time of late.
“Thank you,” she said, watching her half-brother’s form disappear as they were forced away in
another direction.
Meghan’s head remained down, she didn’t want to give that bastard of a mage the satisfaction of
seeing her cry, but the tears began to well up and slide down her face. The bad thing was, her
nose was stopping up but her mouth was still sewn shut, leaving the elf-maid struggling to
breathe, which only made her cry more, which left her chest heaving from sobs and lack of air.
How inglorious...to die of suffocation because she was crying and couldn’t open her mouth to
breathe. At this point though, Meghan really didn’t care any longer. She might have been with
people she knew...vaguely, but had never, in all her long years, felt more lost and alone.
Bria waited until the guards had left before she let go of the other two and reached into her boot
for a tiny dagger she kept hidden there. It wouldn’t do much good as a weapon, but it came in
handy when she needed to cut threads or string or even rope. She looked at Meghan and gently
cupped her face between her hands. “Stay very, very still, ok?” With a slow motion, to be sure
she didn’t cut her, Bria cut the threads that held her mouth shut. “You’re probably lucky this is
all he did... the bastard…” She knelt down, sliding the tiny dagger back into her boot. It was easy
to overlook when she was searched, since the blade was no more than two inches long and
maybe a third of an inch wide.
Meg’s eyes hadn’t even blinked at the small knife. She’d been still, simply because the fight had
gone from her at the wedding. That had been the extent of her anger, now she was simply
exhausted mentally, physically and spiritually. The elf-maid’s lungs spasmed just as the final
thread was cut, her lips parted and the Starlight Elf sucked in a gasp of air that left her seeing a
variety of brilliant colours and fresh oxygen was swept into her blood. Shaking and reeling,
Meghan slid to the floor, sobs beginning to wrack her body as trembling fingers began plucking
black thread from her mouth.
“I have never...” Meghan choked and gagged as she stared at the threads in her palm, “hated
anyone...until now.”
Indigo eyes went to Si’Lyen as something inside her began to crumble. You’re lucky he didn’t do
more to you.... Ah...but he’d done plenty. Meghan had never hated...until now. Never had she
been so ashamed, enraged and utterly disgusted with any one person before. White hate began to
curl within her, filling the places she thought empty of emotion and will. Black rage slithered
within her Elven soul, the essence of star light and gods’ breath fanning the smouldering flames
of anger and greed, desire and above all, gnawing Hate.
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Ah yessss...here is where it begins...you are not alone in this place you know, not helpless. Let
the hhhate and anger fffester...ffffeeeedd offff it...let it carry you through.
Meghan’s fingers closed around a black stone that hung around her neck...the Rohoc, hate
incarnate sensed innocence lost, the ever widening crack in the Aethling’s pure heart and was
making its bid for freedom.
Set. Me. free. And I will do the same for you and these....
Violet and indigo eyes squeezed shut against the cloying words. She knew this thing and hated it
as well, but perhaps she didn’t have to set it free...not just yet.
Why don’t you just lean on me for a time...I don’t have to go free yet...borrow my strength...
yes...that’s it...
When next Meghan Ilessandra’s eyes opened, they looked so much like her mother’s, Indigo
laced with violet...and cracked with black.
Tallin Modar would wish he HAD done more to Meghan Ilessandra, and whether it was he or the
traitor he’d taken as a wife that came to them next, they would find that chains may stop
magic...but not the Rohoc.
***
An’Thaya shifted slightly, grimacing when her head pounded all the harder, her blurry vision
picking up bursts of movement as Callan and Yarwin tried to tear one another apart. Let Adarin
heal you, Agaru insisted, You will be able to think clearer without the pain. The Amazon
growled softly at the Crimson, but her gaze shifted to the Elen King. She was being stupid and
was well aware of it. No warrior in his or her right mind would refuse healing in a dangerous
situation. Then again, she wasn’t in her right mind, now was she? There was evidence in her soul
that she was tied to this man. Was it enough to trust him?
“Never mind the questions,” she sighed, “Adarin… Adarin Alcarin… all right, you said you
could heal this? Please… it might be best if you did.” The faster she was healed and could make
proper sense of things… the better.
“For gods sake” Bran grabbed hold of Yarwin’s arms and hauled him away from his father.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, heedless of the sparks that played
across the Shai’ay’s fingers. “We don’t have time for this. I don’t care what problems the two of
you have from your past, this ends right now!” He glared over at Callan. “The only thing that
matters to me at the moment is getting back the people we all care about. Interfere with that and I
will tear you both apart. Now start acting like adults, instead of children.”
Growling and shaking his head to clear it, Callan slowly rose to a crouch; “You interfere where
you were not asked, Badb Catha.” Callan’s icy eyes went to the forest elf. “And we ARE acting
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like adults...adults of MY kind. Now, let him go, and let’s finish this.” Black wings spread wide
and flame began to gather around the Emperor’s fingertips as his eyes left Bran’s jade Elven eyes
and shifted to Yarwin’s.
The Shai’ay’s lapis eyes settled on his sire, Rage still coursed through his body, made worse by
the touch of madness spurred by the thread thin bond to his Rachel. Time seemed to crawl as
Bran jerked him up, “Let go of me...” Yarwin snarled out, he was no longer the gentle Shai’ay
everyone knew but an enraged dragon and one almost as old as his own sire, only a few hundred
years separated them. Yarwin’s blood was coursing dark and hot though his veins, “Now. Bran.”
Callan’s face twisted into a vicious smile. “Oh, I think him hanging on to you is just the thing.”
Callan made a lunge for the pinned Yarwin, the black dragonscale blade whispering from his
armguard.
Bran swore and swung Yarwin around as his Sire charged. Ducking the blow, he sidestepped and
threw the Shai’ay to one side. Suddenly a large Steel dragon stood where the elf had been, the
creature knocking the Emperor from his feet and pinning him to the ground. “You WILL listen to
me if I have to beat the sense into you using this rocky ground” he roared, fury blazing in his
faceted jade eyes. “My child, your grandchildren, are held captive by a perverted Demoness and
you want to play petty GAMES about who did and did not do what several centuries ago?! We do
NOT have time for this. Even now your bondmate lies injured. She still thinks its millennia ago.
And you just want to BRAWL? I don’t care what colour you are, in my eyes that is childish. If
you are not with us on this then you might as well go back to the Diirlathe because you sure as
hell aren’t any use here.”
Callan gave his son-in-law a low, warning growl at the end of his tirade, “I think you’d best
consider the fact you have the wrong person pinned, Badb Catha...”Callan writhed beneath the
massive claw of the Steel. “That one...” Topaz eyes flicked to the still enRaged Yarwin as he
pulled himself off the stones, “is the one going mad...not me... and MY bondmate is fine, it’s that
weak ELF she’s imprisoned in that is hurt...”
“Weak are they? May I remind you that I am one of those elves you speak of so disparagingly?
Your DAUGHTER is an ELF. So are your grandchildren.” A long, muscular tail sheathed in
burnished steel scales lashed out and wrapped around Yarwin before he did anything stupider
than his previous actions. “Back off! Now!” he snarled at his brother-in-law. “My patience is at
an end.”
Yarwin had been in mid-shift, his two-legger form melting away when Bran’s tail snaked around
him and caught the silvery dragon around the snout and slammed his head into the stones. Pinned
as well as his sire was, Yarwin’s sides heaved and finally, the light in the Shai’ay’s eyes began to
dim, his eyes returning to normal.
“All right...let me up. We’ll finish this another time...another place.”
Yarwin was by no means giving up...but Bran was right...as was his father. He was losing
himself in the Madness and a sudden thought hit him...what about Mira? “Let me up and let’s get
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this trip over with before the whole damn family goes insane, if we’re not already there.”
“Move Badb Catha...its over. For now.” Callan rumbled and went still. Actually, he was
thinking the whole damn family had gone insane centuries ago.
***
The heat from Zenith was just starting to ease when Cully opened his eyes, staring up through
the treetops to watch the slow procession of the twin suns. Scrubbing at his face the young elf sat
up carefully on the branch he was laying on and fumbled for his water flask, slaking his thirst
and eyeing his still sleeping twin for a moment before twisting the cap back on and dropping
lightly to the ground. He was hungry and stiff, it had been awhile since he had slept outside and
the sudden return to roughing it was taking its toll on his body.
Picking his way through the trees he emerged in a clearing where they had set up one of several
campfires, finding several S’Hean Rangers already there bugging the cook for something to eat.
Captain Al’Teron was among them, a cup of IronBane tea in his hand as he ran hard-callused
fingers through short-cropped chestnut hair. “Hey there young Master Alcarin,” he greeted Cully
with a smile, “Sleep well?”
The titian haired elf chuckled and shrugged, “As well as can be expected I guess. Any news from
my Doro?”
“Only what little there was this morning. The diggers figure they are about half way thro…” the
last word was choked off in a strangled gurgle, blood bubbling up over the Captain’s lips, the
mug of tea falling from shocked fingers.
Cully’s sea-green eyes flew wide, shock stealing any sound he might have made as he stared at
the tip of the arrow protruding from Twig’s chest, the sharp head hovering only a bare inch from
his own. A slow exhalation of breath emerged as a wheeze from the Captain and he fell forward
onto the taller Elf, nearly taking the heavy Culaelin off his feet.
“GLORY! GLORAELIN! OH GODS!” Panic struck and he bellowed for his twin, dropping to
his knees with the Captain as a volley of missiles flew over their heads.
“ARM YOURSELVES!” The call to arms came from Shali, the ebony-haired Amazon coming
out of nowhere, sword in hand as she charged into the woods. “They’ve surrounded us!”
Glory rocketed to the ground as soon as his brother’s piercing cry and mental shock hit him. He
stumbled, sprawling to the ground as the first arrows struck overhead.
“Coming!” he shouted, hearing Shali and quickly pulling out his sword and wishing he could
figure out just where... wait, all around them? Surrounded? He low-crawled swiftly toward Cully
and dragged his brother and the limp form of Twig down to the ground.
“Helluva wake up call,” he muttered as a second and third attack of arrows flew overhead. They
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had to get to their feet somehow or they were going to be in even more serious trouble.
Shali was closely followed by Linnis who running hard trying to keep up with the Amazon, If
she isn’t careful she’s going to get herself killed! The brunette had started to become quite fond
of the Shali. “Come on get your bloody fingers out!” the half-elf shouted at the cowering twins
as she went by.
“Oh Gods… get him off me,” Cully gasped in a near hysterical tone, “Oh Gods… he’s dead…”
Killing was one thing, having someone you knew die in your arms was quiet another. Stunned he
stared at Linnis as she dashed by, arrows whizzing close to her head and screaming like a
banshee. “What do you suppose that meant?” he asked his twin in a hurried whisper.
If he was expecting an answer, the Elf was sorely disappointed, for it was at that moment that a
pair of rock trolls broke through the tree line, bringing a battalion of Amazons up short. The first
let loose a slavering bellow and struck at them with a massive hand, a symphony of breaking
bone and screams of pain filling the heated after-Zenith air.
“FALL BACK!” Shali screamed at her sisters, signalling for the S’Hean rangers in the trees to
strike with their own volley of arrows.
“OH bloody hells,” Cully yelled, shoving the dead Captain off of himself and finally managing
to loose his sword. “Get up! Get up while we have time!” The Rangers were providing a bit of
cover at least, enough for those on the ground to get their bearings and move.
Glory was already on his feet. He was still shocked by the captain’s dead form, but he’d heard
the cry and was quickly joining the Amazons.
We have no time. Just fight like hell, he sent to his brother. Arrows flew overhead in both
directions and the few trolls who fell were quickly attacked. Glory leaped atop one and slashed
like mad, frantic to end the creature’s life before he moved to the next fallen behemoth.
The first thing Cully came up against was a angry Nuru’kh-ai, the beast was slightly miffed
about the arrow protruding from its shoulder and took its frustration out on the titian haired elf.
At first he fell back, unsettled by the beast’s ferocity, and then he did what a D’Riel-Alcarin did
best. He let anger fuel his actions and put thought behind him, falling into the silent berserker
rage that his Doro Y’Roden was well known for. Everything seemed to go red as he threw
himself into the fray, cutting his way through to where Glory was last seen.
From where she was standing Shali had a good view of what was happening, focusing on her
Queen’s two eldest sons at first, then attuning to what was happening to her sisters. A massive
band of Nuru’kh-ai and Rock Trolls were decimating their ranks, cutting a wide swath through
the women despite the Ranger’s attempts to turn the tides from the trees. There were close to a
thousand Rangers, seven hundred Amazons and a scattering of other troops in the Eastern
Quadrant, but they had been widely scattered, waiting for word from the S’Hean King. With
their Captain gone the troops were unorganized, unfocused.
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“Take down the trolls!” the Amazon yelled at the archers, “Hit them first! Let the ground troops
take out the Nuru’kh-ai! Stay under cover! Cully! Glory! Split up, North and South, take
command and get the troops hitting the right targets! Linnis! Go East!” A flash of dark hair had
Shali disappearing through the trees to the West to do what she could.”
Culaelin came to a halt when he heard his name called, taking a blade across the shoulder for his
trouble. Grunting in pain he drove the tip of his blade into the attacking Orc and altered his
direction, heading South.
Linnis heard the order; “you lot come with me” she called to a small group of Amazons and
headed East. She had to get more troops gathered together in an effective defence. Even as she
ran she could still see bodies littered on the ground. Yet more deaths caused by the King and
Queen, arrogant bastards. When will this slaughter stop, haven’t they had enough bloodshed?
She thought with disgust. She could hear the loud thumping of Orc feet behind her drowning out
the wild beating of her own heart.
And Glory had spun northward as directed, gathering troops together and telling them to go for
the Nuru’kh-ai and to leave the trolls to the archers.
“Finish off those you can, but worry about the Orcs first—they’re faster and not so easy to
duck!” he called out, slowly bringing some semblance of order to the confused fighters. He’d
avoided any major injury thus far and was trying to make he remained upright. What worried
him was the absolute beating they were taking from the attack.
The folly of the Nuru’kh-ai was attacking S’Hean Elves in their element. The tightly packed
trees and heavy gravity proved the undoing of the beasts and they fell in droves beneath the
arrows of the highly skilled Rangers. Yet… not before the Amazon’s took heavy losses, close to
one hundred and fifty lost to the battle.
It was a bloody scene King Y’Roden D’Riel portalled in on, the main Eastern camp now an
emergency medical station. Cully was the first familiar face he picked out, the young elf’s
solemn expression twisting into one of pain as an Amazon worked on his flayed shoulder. Seagreen eyes lifted to meet the emerald of his Doro’s and he smiled weakly. “Hey, we started
without you, sorry.”
Ro shook his head and knelt down next to his nephew, waving the Amazon away and seeing to
the wound himself. “What the hell happened here?”
“I really don’t know, they came up on us just as everyone was waking from Zenith. Twig is
dead… and I couldn’t tell you how many Amazons. Gods… the carnage was just…”
“Well, you and your brother are alive, that’s all the matters. I wouldn’t want to explain to
An’Thaya that I lost her two eldest sons. There you go, good as new,” he finished, patting the
titian haired elf on the shoulder. “Have you seen Linnis or Shali?”
“Eh, well, they took off in different directions, but I’ve become a little mixed up since then.”
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As if on cue Linnis came out of the forest. She was cut, bruised, very dirty, and supporting the
Amazon Shali, an arrow sticking out of her shoulder. Her hair was a tangled mess sticking to her
face with blood and sweat. “Medic” she managed to yell, he breathing hard from walking such a
distance, as she came to the camp. A group of healers rushed out to take the injured woman from
the half-elf and Linnis found some water, tipping the bottle to let the clear liquid wash over her
face, sighing in relief at the brief respite from the heat. “Your Majesty” she said shortly to Ro
finally noticing him, too tired and hot to be particularly pleasant.
“Linnis,” the King nodded in return as he helped Cully get to his feet. “Go find your brother,” he
instructed, “Roundup whomever you can and return here, I want a headcount when you are done.
You are in charge here for the moment, got it?”
Cully nodded an affirmative and trotted off into the trees in search of Glory, leaving Ro with
Shali and Linnis. His heart sank when he saw the condition the dark haired Amazon was in. If
anything happened to her… his sister would have his head on a platter.
“Linnis, I need you to take Shali and the others back to S’Hea. The heat is too much for the
wounded and they need better healing than can be found out here in the middle of nowhere.
Would you mind? I’ll have a few Rangers escort you and open the wards.”
The dark-haired half-elf simply nodded words temporarily unavailable, her breathing still
coming in short pants. If she didn’t rest soon she’d collapse from heat exhaustion. “Of course”
she finally managed to say, “we have to get them to safety, they can’t stay here” she agreed. And
they wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for you her blue eyes hiding the contempt she felt for the
King of S’Hea.
“D’Anke Linnis.” Turning to scan the clearing Ro selected two S’Hean Rangers that had taken
only minor wounds and assigned them to the dark haired woman. “These two will keep the portal
open for you and open the wards when necessary.” He paused to look at his wife’s daughter one
last time, then seemed to move on to other worries. He had an army to mobilize; ready to move
when the signal went off the next morning.
***
The Dragon’s had finally broken through into the subterranean tunnel, finding themselves in an
ancient musty corridor that seemed, without the benefit of light, to go on forever. When they
reached the end it seemed as if all had been for naught. The entrance to the Temple was sealed
shut, and there seemed to be no latch or lever that would open it. “It may only be operable from
the other side,” Reece muttered, “I’ll take a look.”
Head and shoulders emerged through the floor of the temple, startling a female acolyte who
stared at the SandShadow for a moment, then looked around hurriedly before beckoning him
onwards. “Come quickly, those that serve Haldanuru are still in ritual.”
The Mercenary nodded the muscles of his shoulders bunching as he heaved himself up out of the
tunnel and onto the patterned floor. He was in the centre of a stylized Ying Yang, the distinctive
black and white invaded by tendrils of their opposite and spiralling off across the marble floor
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until two separate solid colored paths were formed, leading in different directions. The temple
was dedicated to all the gods of Whispin, but rituals were done separately. The dark path was not
as well used as the light, but it existed for the sake of balance.
“Here,” the woman pushed back her pristine white hood, revealing a wealth of golden hair and
soft hazel eyes, “are there others? Has the King returned? Of course he has… ” As she spoke she
led him into a darkened Alcove and slid a hidden panel open, her delicate fingers depressing a
slab of stone. There was a click, then a whirring sound as something engaged. “This hasn’t been
used in centuries,” she whispered, “but the Elders suspected that King Y’Roden would come this
way, so they have set someone to watch the Room of Dusk at all times.
“The Elders are wise indeed,” Reece said in a low voice, leaning slightly to look back into the
room as it was bathed in golden light. A cylinder shape was descending from the ceiling and it
began to slowly spin, revealing itself as a spiral staircase gilded in gold. From below, it had
looked like an oddly designed chandelier, but now its true purpose was revealed as the metal
engaged with a circular groove running the circumference of the Ying Yang. A second click
separated the design into scale shapes that, for a moment, revealed a D’Riel Dragon, then
retracted to leave a large round opening through which the staircase continued its decent. “That
is some contraption…”
“Yes, but we must hurry before Dark Mass is finished or you will lose the advantage of surprise.
I’ll wait here to close it once you have all made your way up.”
Moving noiselessly Reece ran back across the floor and down the first few stairs into the
darkness, “Pssst… Akavian… all clear, bring up the others.”
Wordlessly Akav moved those underground up through the now opened passage into the temple
inside the city. When all of them had gotten through Akavian came up last. “Show the way
Reece.” Was all he said before the entire group was on the move.
As the last of the strike team cleared the room the acolyte touched on the panel again, sending
the staircase back to its original state. “This way,” she whispered to Reece, “you may pass
unhindered through the halls of light. I will show you to the back entrance.”
Nodding mutely Reece signalled to the others and followed their guide along the white path, the
last of them disappearing around corner just as the first of Haldanuru’s followers emerged into
the Hall of Dusk.
It had cost Reece and Akavian what was left of the night to reach the city gates, and the first of
the twin suns found them taking out the Nuru’kh-ai set to guard them. The Mercenary could only
hope that Sahar had reached the back gates, he had no way of communicating with the shadow
woman and would only be aware when she sent up her own signal. At the moment, he was more
concerned about keeping his head on his shoulders as a brute swung a heavy battle-axe at his
neck. Ducking, the dark haired human flipped his sword sideways and dug the blade into the
Orc’s ribs before swinging out of reach.
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“Take the Windlass,” he barked at two S’Hean Rangers, “Akav, signal your dragons outside, get
them to clear the enemy off the top of the wall.”
The walls that surrounded Corin were thick, wide enough so that it took the average human
several paces to cross from one side to the other. Double gates with an equal number of
portcullises were a safety net for its people, though in this case, they were keeping out Corin’s
salvation. “Get the inner gate open!” Reece bellowed, finding himself fighting off more and
more Nuru’kh-ai as the noise of the scuffle drew them from the gatehouse. Behind him he could
hear several S’Hean Rangers straining to lift the heavy bar and the clatter of the windlass as it
lifted the first portcullis.
Risking a glance over his shoulder he caught the opening of the inner doors as the Elves threw
them open and ran for the outer set, two stopping at the second windlass while the others waited
for the outer portcullis to raise and allow them access to the bar. “Close enough,” he muttered,
his ebony gaze darting to the forest green of one of the two S’Hean Magi’s. “Send up the signal.”
The woman nodded and fell back to the safety of the gate, her fingers already dancing as she
traced out a pattern of runes on the air in pale green light. She seemed oblivious as an arrow
whizzed by a delicately pointed ear, her concentration upon her magic complete. Light exploded
from her hands, soaring skywards in a brilliant column and releasing the illusionary form of a
D’Riel Dragon. A great illuminating form that seemed, for a moment, to devour the sky.
At the same moment the runes completed were sent soaring into the air Akav had shifted his
vocal cords to that of dragon sending a high frequency call heard only to dragon ears and any
sensitive to so high a range of sound. Instantly the dragons outside took to the air bellowing and
sending gouts of flame above the heads of those within creating panic among the Orc and
Nuru’kh-ai alike. Second passed, however those left standing were not so fortunate. The flaming
pass this time sent Orc and Nuru’kh-ai dancing and falling from the walls like flames and torches
of gruesome figures caught in the furnace of the sun.
Sahar skulked from one shadow to another as she entered the guardhouse with two rangers that
had come with her. Chosen for their dark complexion to allow them to blend in even after they
stepped from the darkness that was the out skirts of the shadow being’s home. Steel grey eyes
flickered from one Elven face to another in silent question for their readiness. She had told them
what to expect when they crossed back over into the world they knew, they had even practiced
the procedure while the others continued digging. Dusky hands reached out and touched the
rangers on the shoulder and they stepped forward in one fluid movement, weapons unsheathed.
The dull flash of her blade danced across one guard’s throat, and she braced herself for the dead
weight that slammed into her and threatened to pull her down with it as the stinking mass
slithered to the floor. The muffled sickening thump of other bodies falling to the ground spoke
volumes.
“Keep hidden as best you can…” She whispered, disappearing into the darkness once again to
reclaim those under her command and take them out of the biting cold and back into the dawning
heat. In silence they filed out of the gate house until they all stood in front of the gate.
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“They’ve been discovered.” The words were hissed into her ear as if foreshadowing the call that
came from the heights above.
Her head jerked up at the sound. “They aren’t the only ones, well, so much for secrecy.” She
muttered as Orc and Nuru’kh-ai answered the alarm. “Dragons form a wall across there! Rangers
line up behind them…Would someone shut him up!” She shouted out orders even as she pointed
towards those standing on the wall. Yelling for one of the Magi and the two that had
accompanied her earlier. “You two make for the gate, and throw it open, you, the first glimmer
of light you see between those doors, throw up the signal. Now go!”
Pulling her black Shamshir, she took off to join the others in the skirmish.
***
She could see again, though the flesh was still tender around her eye. The darkness was a little
less frightening now that she could see through it a little better. The cold was flesh numbing
however, something Tay was certainly not prepared to get use too. At the moment, she stood at
the edge of a vast expanse of black sand, unsure whether to believe the voice in her head.
Fingertips brushed over the smooth crimson scales the redhead had discovered on her abdomen,
the only outward evidence of the beast that lurked within.
How did you come to be part of me?
Later… An’Thaya, it will all come back to you eventually. Some things are best left buried at the
moment. Now… give me control, we can’t walk over the sands, it is much too dangerous. We will
have to fly, and to do that; you must take on draconic form.
Let you have control? How? How do I know I can trust you?
Have I led you astray thus far?
Tay bit her lip and looked over her shoulder at Adarin and the others. He had proved trustworthy,
healing her wounds and staying close, making sure she was safe. Callan had also proven
someone she could rely on, despite his infuriating personality. No, Agaru had not led her astray.
Part of her knew all of this was nothing but the truth.
All right…
Closing her eyes the Amazon let herself drift, fading beneath the presence of the Dragon,
lingering in the sensation as scales scattered across his skin, bones cracked and shifted, muscles
stretched and great crimson wings exploded out from between her shoulder blades. She wanted
to scream, it was painful, terrifying, yet freeing all at once. She was silenced as Agaru took over,
the sound becoming a bugling roar as the female turned her large wedge shaped head and sniffed
at the Elen King for a moment before angling to look at Callan’s half-Elven form.
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Are we all ready to go?
Ghet had a splitting headache. She was fighting down the after-effects of Yarwin’s rage. It was
times like these she was inclined to believe in some kind of deity, Venus not really counting.
Surely, someone had to be testing her, seeing how much she could take. This could not all be
down to chance.
What bothered her the most, though, was the expression on Adarin’s face. She was rubbed raw,
unable to protect herself from the feelings of others, but here she felt genuine sympathy. And
anger, anger beat at her for Adarin, and for Galain... she lowered her head and took a deep
breath. Damnit, she’d been relying on Thaya for advice, and Thaya quite clearly wasn’t here.
She’d have to see if her memory returned in time, and if it didn’t...
***
The Obsidian Black he was mounted on snorted and shifted beneath Y’Roden’s weight, the
tension of the waiting troops making the animals edgy. The first sun was just creeping over the
skyline and the King of S’Hea was starting to worry. Much longer… and the City of Corin would
be wide-awake… as would those that had her crushed beneath their boot heels. “What in the
name of the Nine Hells is taking so long?” he muttered, gazing at the frustratingly empty sky.
“They should have sent up the signal by now.”
As if on cue a column of light exploded into the air, the shape of a D’Riel Dragon reflecting in
the half-elf’s emerald eyes. A sigh of relief shook his massive chest and he nodded to the group
of magi assigned to open the portal for the Southern Quadrant.
Silverthorn swung herself lightly into the saddle, the horse shifting slightly beneath her. “Easy,”
the dark-haired elf murmured softly, patting the animal’s neck. It snorted as a shimmering green
portal opened before it. “Time to go, Chev,” the S’Hean Queen said quietly to her husband.
Mel stood on foot with the Ingraleis rangers and guardsmen, S’araia by her side. The half-elf had
refused a mount, knowing ‘Loki made them nervous without Conlan’s soothing presence. Not to
mention, she was sure the horse would go into convulsions if she needed to shift suddenly. The
Ingraleis guard were used to fighting without mounts, riding was a pleasure in that kingdom, the
horses were rarely ridden to battle. Her eyes looked up at her Doro Y’Roden as the column of
light lit up the dawn. She couldn’t promise she wouldn’t do something hare-brained, but then,
she was an Alcarin… It was genetic, right?
Oh sure it was genetic. Hare-brained was a good genetic bit in Mak’s opinion. He was close by
his sister and staring upward. Time to go indeed. He was horse bound and content with that. He
and his brother, Glory, had confounded their father by having a deep and abiding love for and
ability with horses.
He simply waited, ready.
“Aye… time to go,” Ro responded to his wife, watching as the pinpoint of a portal evolved into a
massive vortex of flashing light that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the air for a moment, then
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stabilized. The King of S’Hea cast a glance over his shoulder once, then raised his bastard sword
over his head, “For Corin!” The sword point dropped forwards toward the portal and nudged his
war-horse forwards, the beast hitting a dead run on as they burst out on the other side of the
portal, bearing down upon the gates of the City of Corin. Three other portals lit up the early
dawn, ejecting Amazons, Elves, Horses and Ships that cut down any Nuru’kh-ai unfortunate
enough to be caught outside the relative safety of the city.
***
“String him upright, hand me the dagger in the onyx case.” The command came in a soft sultry
tone, belying the fire in Samara’s eyes as she watched the Nuru’kh-ai haul on the chains attached
to Galain’s limbs and string him spread eagle in mid air. “Remove his boots, leave the rest to
me.” He had been strapped down to the rack for hours now, left in silence and darkness with
nothing but his own thoughts for company.
“Now leave us.”
The dagger was perfectly balanced, the metal black as night, the handle carved in ornate designs,
runes so ancient even Samara sometimes forgot their meaning. The blade danced, reflecting the
torchlight as the Demoness circled her prey. “It is time for you and I to know one another a little
better Prince Galain Alcarin. Let us see what you are made of under that pretty exterior.” The
sound of tearing fabric met his ears as Samara cut his vest in half down the back, the tip digging
into the Elf’s skin and drawing a bloody red line along his spine. Before he had time to react she
sliced down each shoulder, sending the worn tattered garment fluttering to the floor.
Galain hissed when the vest hit the ground and the knife cut into his back. He’d had ample time
to think, but it hadn’t been about what he might be facing here. Well, he had been a little ticked
off about the accommodations, but he was so certain that his comrades would be coming and
soon though he’d felt some intense uncertainty over the state of his wives’ minds. Neither had
been totally coherent or reachable. As a result he was feeling contrary and another vest, just like
the one on the ground, reappeared on the elf.
“Didn’t see much, did you?” he said as lightly as he could. Of course that particular statement
could backfire on him but he was steeling himself. He hoped.
“My thoughts exactly,” Samara laughed, then drove the hilt of the dagger hard into his kidney.
Reaching up she grabbed a handful of soft golden locks and yanked his head back at a painful
angle. “Feisty… good… I like that. But… perhaps we should start this off another way.” Boot
heels clicked across the stone floor, coming to a halt somewhere out of Galain’s view. There was
a click, then a rattling sound as something turned. The chains suddenly pulled agonizingly tight,
stretching the Elf to the limit. It was only the beginning, the ends where attached to a track and
he was suddenly moving sideways.
Samara came back into view, keeping pace with the Elen until she reached the edge of a pool.
The surface was covered with a paper think layer of ice, attesting to the temperature of the water
beneath. “You could use a bath… I hope you can hold your breath a long time… I doubt you’ll
beat Y’Roden’s record.” Taloned fingers closed around a lever, sending Galain crashing through
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the ice into the depths of the bone numbing cold of the pool, chains and all.
The last thought Galain was capable of before the chains tightened was that he was really more
capable of dealing with psychological trouble. He had extensive dealings with it after all. Taunt
away and he’d taunt right back. But that hit to the kidney, the hair yanking... not nice...
And of course she’d just jumped into that stupid statement of his. Galain was halfway to berating
himself when the pain and movement hit and then he was plunged into water so cold he couldn’t
help but scream. A gouting spout of oxygen fled to the surface and the elf’s lungs filled with icy
water. He shut his mouth and reflexively shut his eyes. Y’Roden was a record to beat after all.
Samara waited patiently until the Elf stopped moving, the cold and lack of oxygen rendering him
unconscious, then yanked up on the lever. The chains snapped tight and whipped his body back
up out of the pool. Dark Magic danced on the Demoness' fingertips as she flicked them in an
almost dismissive gesture. Arcs of black electricity gripped the Elen’s body, sending him into
wild convulsions. “Wake up… or you’ll miss all the fun.”
***
Ghet hugged Adarin warmly. “It’ll be alright,” she whispered. “She’ll come back.” Then she
moved on to Bran. It looked like they would be taking to the air again, and while she hated being
dependent; she simply didn’t trust Geth enough to let her out in this environment. And she’d hate
to have to explain to her what had happened to ‘Lain. She smiled at Bran rather sheepishly. “Will
you carry me again? I promise not to hit you.”
Shadow stared out across the dark expanse, missing the connection that kept her tied to her older
brother, to her husband, and to her children. With a sigh she poked at her twin, glad for that little
bit of anchor, little bit being an understatement. The forest elf took a swig from her flask and idly
toyed with the cap before screwing it back on and returning the flask back to its pocket.
“No time like the present.” She muttered, the familiar mist enveloping her, stealing away her
regular form and replacing it with the dragon form she chose the most. Rearing back she
stretched her wings before leaning forward again to rest on all fours, the tip of her tail twitching
in beat to the song that meandered from her mind, to her twins, and back again.
Callan’s fingers flicked across the handle of a dagger slung at his hip, the Emperor was rather
relieved they’d decided to fly this time, crossing the sands by foot had been an act of insanity,
but necessary. This time there was absolutely no way he was trusting An’Thaya to guide them
across the sands of Tenobrous and would have merrily scooped her up and carried her along if
she’d protested much longer. Topaz eyes shifted from the stretch of barren soil before them to
the Crimson as the sound of cracking bone and splitting flesh heralded the arrival of the dragon.
A large hand reached up to scratch her on the forearm, then caress the near ruby colored scales.
For the first time in days, a genuine smile crossed his face; this creature was his mate, part of his
soul. “V’ran Duan, Agaru, about time you made an appearance in person.”
I’ve missed you, Red.
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Black wings began to expand while black armour and false garments became scale encrusted,
low laugher became a basso rumble. Callan’s half-Elven form seemed to twist and writhe, and
once the transformation was over, the enormous Black stood alongside his Crimson mate,
snuffled her jaw, then swivelled his head around to Ild’ashi before plucking her up by the back of
her shirt and depositing her on his broad back.
“Alley oop...Ranger. Time to ride.” At Callan’s touch, the Ranger’s shredded clothes mended,
then altered to something far warmer, more fit for riding the air currents.
Wide bi-colored eyes watched the ground slide from beneath her as she was hoisted high, then
lay on the Emperor’s back in clothes that might just save her from freezing.
“D’Anke, Emperor Blackthorn...just be certain you don’t try any odd moves for giggles up there,
aye? I would very much like to see home again.”
***
“I’m awake! I’m here! I’m awake!” Galain yelled. He convulsed and spit out what he was sure
was a gallon of water and then groaned. He hurt all over and he couldn’t believe they’d just
started. He breathed in deeply, trying to calm himself.
“We get to do that again?” he inquired brightly.
“By the time we are finished, you’ll find that one of the more enjoyable exercises I’m sure,”
Samara purred, the pushed the lever down again. This time she only left him under for a few
seconds before pulling him out again, a pleased smile lifting the edge of her lip. The track rattled,
pulling him over above the solid floor again. “You look cold, something should be done. Perhaps
you will enjoy this side of the room a little more? You like it… hot… I take it? I have just the
thing.”
The next lever she took her time with, lowering Galain excruciatingly slow over a small bed of
searing hot coals. Embers cracked, drifting into the air and burning small holes in the Elf’s
trousers and vest, but it was his feet that took the most damage as he was lowered millimetre by
millimetre, the chains stretched so taut he could not pull back. The scent of burning flesh filled
the air and Samara inhaled deeply, slightly heady off the aroma. “A little warmer now love?”
To be honest, he preferred the cold over the hot and Galain’s eyes watered with pain. His lips
had gone suddenly parched and he ached for the cold of the icy water as his feet were inflamed
first, followed by the rest of him. Galain tried to buck backward, but the chains were too tight
and he let out a groan of pain as he stretched with his bonds.
“That’s not nice,” he moaned, giving Samara what he hoped was a reproachful look.
“Nice? I don’t think I ever claimed to be that,” she mused, a thoughtful expression on her face as
the lever was lifted, drawing Galain out of the heat. Returning him to the original position
Samara lowered the elf onto his raw feet. The door behind her opened, as if on cue and two burly
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Nuru’kh-ai lumbered up on either side of her. “Release him from the chains … strip him… and
break him.”
Without question the black skinned brutes advanced on the blonde Elf, one grabbing him roughly
by the vest while the other unsnapped the manacles. Dirty fingers tore Galain’s clothing from his
body and dragged him to an open area beyond the rack. “Oi’m gonna enjoy this un,” one
chuckled, drawing back a meaty fist and slamming it into his victim’s gut.
“Shut up and do your job,” Samara hissed, “hit him harder.”
Hitting the floor with his feet had hurt and he’d bit back a whimper of pain. It’d be a while
before he could run, let alone walk again. He heard Samara’s words and wrestled weakly when
the manacles were released. He flailed and tried to hit back, hopelessly over-muscled by the
Nuru’kh-ai goaded on by Samara. As if they needed goading...
His kidney hurt, his body had been frozen and then thawed and burned. And Galain knew they’d
barely gotten started. He didn’t have time now to contradict Samara and that aggravated him as
he struggled against the punches thrown by his tormentors. His limbs ached from the time on the
rack and then the time on the chains and the Elen doubled in on himself, trying to deflect the
punches inflicted on him. Wings exploded from his back without permission and he gasped at his
dragon self.
Oh gods, don’t! he begged, struggling to keep ‘Lain at bay. You’re all I’ve got when it comes to
us, he told the gold unnecessarily. Of necessity he’d locked himself down from Tay and Ghet
long ago. Too much pain—it couldn’t be shared.
***
Yarwin stood watching Bran, a sore look on his face, he wasn’t please with the Steel’s
interference, but knew Bran had been right...did that mean he had to admit it at the moment...no.
“Adarin?” Yarwin shifted and in his place stood a Silver almost as large as the Black, his lapis
eyes peering down at the Elen King while one claw extended to offer the king a lift upwards,
“I’ll be good, I promise...”
Adarin had accepted Ghetsuhm’s hug and quietly thanked her before he eyed Tay for a moment
and then retreated when she’d become Agaru. Would she really come back? Truly? He gave
Ghet a strong smile that forced itself to his eyes before he looked up at Yarwin. He wouldn’t ride
the Crimson again and he accepted the Silver’s invitation readily.
“I’ll hold you to your word,” he said, stepping onto the extended claw.
“Hell, if you’re going to hit me again I might as well be in dragon form. It hurts less” Bran said
wryly. He took Ghet’s hand for a moment between his and then kissed the back of her knuckles.
“It will all work out. You’ll see” the fair-haired elf murmured, before stepping back. His shape
shifted back to the Steel. “M’Lady.” He lowered his shoulder so that the redhead could climb
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aboard.
Ghet gave a wry smile that belied the aching pain in her heart. She couldn’t feel Galain at all
now, and she didn’t know why. She’d just have to hope he’d come back, and work to keep
herself in a state where she’d be some good to him when he did. “People are always surprised by
how hard I can hit. Galain’s surprised every time I do it. Hey, if you were married to him, you’d
hit him, too. I threw a vodka bottle at him once. I can’t remember why.” She put a foot on Bran’s
leg, took his shoulder, and swung herself up onto his back. “But punching dragons just skins
your knuckles.”
Agaru snorted and nuzzled Callan back before moving to the edge of the sand, aware of the
arrangements being made behind her, but not interested in the least. The Amazon had fallen
quiet, wondering why one bond had gone so oddly silent where there had been something not
long before. The Crimson gently reassured her skinwalker, then leapt up into the air, skimming
over the black sands as the group struck out for the next landmass.
***
“STOP, put the manacles back on him,” Samara commanded, then growled when one of the
Nuru’kh-ai got in one last shot. “NOW.” The beast rumbled in protest, but did as he was bidden,
stringing the bruised and bloody Elen back up to the chains. The eyes of the Demoness were on
the delicate gold wings, fascination in their blood red depths.
The cold stone wall greeted Galain’s back as he was pulled up against it, the chains holding him
fast against the hair surface. “I have a friend for you to meet,” Samara said softly, “Don’t
worry… it will only hurt for an hour or so. After that, the hallucinations can be rather pleasant.”
The second Nuru’kh-ai had wheeled up a steel box and was in the process of lifting the metal
gate at the front. Two spindly, hairy white legs emerged at first, followed by a massive set of
mandibles. “The natives around here call these a delicacy, I… on the other hand, find them
useful for other reasons.”
Taloned fingers reached down to stroke the back of the albino arachnid, “He has been fed, so no
worries about him trying to suck out your innards… but he does like to bite, simply for the
pleasure of it.”
Eight legs shuffled across the stone cold floor, zeroing in on the thermal pattern that was Galain
Alcarin.
Hadn’t he eaten this “delicacy”? Galain wondered, still arguing with ‘Lain. He couldn’t argue
though when he was manacled again and grunted when he stretched. His head lolled and he tried
to throw Samara a look of disgust but all he really wanted to do was puke. The sprouted wings
were smashed tight and he tried to bite back his pain, cursing ‘Lain as both dragon and elf eyed
the arachnid.
“I’m so relieved,” he said breathlessly, his mind so filled with frustration and pain he could
barely think.
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“Well good, we would hate for you to be uncomfortable.” Seating herself on the edge of a table
full of sharp implements Samara selected one and cleaned beneath her nails as the spider
progressed across the floor and up Galain’s bared legs. Mandibles clicked out an eager cadence,
then dug in just above the Elen’s heart, pumping a massive dose of venom into his blood stream.
Non-lethal… but killing the Elen Prince wasn’t the idea.
The spider was just a little too much and Galain let out a cry before it bit into him. For once his
shields were thrust down and old childhood memories hit him in full force. All he could
remember was being subject to total death and he let out a bloodcurdling.
“Oh gods, no!” he yelled, trying to escape. The venom filled his body and he cried out again, his
mouth gone slack as his body went rigid.
Y’Roden was no goal. He’d never meet that one’s endurance. He admitted that himself as he
went slack in the chains, cursing himself for weakness, ineptitude, asinine behaviour and a lot
more.
Then he saw the spider again and yelled, bucking wildly, his innate fear of such things taking
over.
“Off me!” he cried.
“Remove it.” Samara ordered without bothering to look up, knowing she had been obeyed when
she heard the protesting clacking of the spider and the squeal of the metal door being slid back
into place. Rising she approached Galain and grabbed him by the jaw, turning his head so she
could look into the depths of glazing sea-green eyes.
“Relax… things will be much easier now,” she murmured as the venom did its work, spreading
like acid through his blood and hazing his brain. “I’ll be back in the morning love, don’t wait up
for me.” Lilting laughter filled the Elen’s dulled senses, and then she was gone.
***
The first light of dawn found Tallin entangled with Mystical, as they had been the entire night.
The Demon Mage took his celebrating seriously and had whiled away the hours tasting of food,
wine, and his new bride. In the throes of passion he was blissfully unaware when the entrances to
the tunnels were breached or the fights breaking out at the front and back gates.
It was the pounding on the door that drew the semi-satiated lovers apart. “This better be bloody
important...” Mystical growled against her husband’s skin. She was not one to enjoy her pleasure
being interrupted, but she knew it could not be good news to cause the captains to risk Tallin’s
ire by interrupting them so early when they had wed the day before.
The snarl that erupted from her husband was slightly less pleasant as he threw back the covers
and swung his legs over the side of the bed, not bothering to dress as he stalked across the
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carpeted floor and swung the door wide open. “WHAT!”
The Nuru’kh-ai in the corridor shrank back from his Master, gesturing desperately towards the
windows, “Milord, the D’Riels, they have broken through in the city.”
Tallin stared blankly at the beast for a moment, then roared in fury, backhanding it across the
face before whirling around to re cross the room and toss open the curtains. At that moment a
bright column of light shot up near the front gates, exploding into an all too familiar insignia.
“DAMN THEM!” Ice blue eyes had shot to black by the time he rounded on the Orc again.
“Saddle my horse… and bring me Si’Lyen D’Riel. NOW!”
Mystical pulled the covers up to cover her breasts when Tallin threw the door open. She was
smart enough to stay silent when he roared in fury, but she stood when the Orc left to fetch
Si’Lyen. “I’m going with you.” It was said softly, yet with an unshakeable determination. The
clothes he’d given her would never do, but she had no other options. The collar she still wore
blocked all of her magic. It grated on her nerves that he trusted her so little, but she couldn’t
blame him either. Hell, she’d ride naked if she had to...
Jet black eyes flickered to the Abjurer and a short bark of laughter escaped the Mage, “Well,
why not, a wife’s place is at her husbands side is it not?” A touch of his hand on her flesh clothed
the dark haired beauty in soft leather riding pants, thigh high black boots, and a black leather
jacket that plunged dangerously low at the front. A high collar framed her jaw, contrasting with
her blood red lips and highlighting her mass of glossy curls. In total, it was a feminized version
of what Tallin himself wore, minus the cloak.
“Much better. Come my love, it looks as if we have unexpected guests. Shall we greet them
properly?”
With a quick gesture, Mystical pulled her curls up into a high ponytail, with pieces falling to
frame her face, hooked with a single lock of hair. “Aye, we must be hospitable after all... I’m
sure the dungeons could use some more occupants after all…” She smiled and slid her arm
through his. “I go where you lead, my husband...”
***
The way to the gates was fairly clear, very few Nuru’kh-ai stood between Y’Roden and his goal.
Tallin’s troops had been caught unawares and were engaging in battle with troops from the East
and West and Northern Quadrants. Most of those caught out front were trying to force their way
through the small gathering of S’Hean Rangers crammed in the archway of the gate itself. Too
late they realized their folly, turning only to fall on the swords of the King and those riding with
him. The Rangers in the archway turned back, running to back up Reece and Akavian who were
pressed by the Nuru’kh-ai within the city itself.
DragonFire lit up the battlements; a blazing tribute to the rising sun and everywhere there was
the scent of blood and fear. Unfazed the King of S’Hea rode in silence, striking down his
opponents with quiet proficiency.
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Fadil’s heart leapt when he saw the signal go up. Finally, the waiting was over. He knew there’d
been trouble for the other groups, but there’d been nothing he could do. Now, though, now they
could fight. The grin he gave Valin was probably a little disconcerting, though of course they’d
seen worse on Ro. “I think we’re needed. After you. Oh no, wait, your father would slowly scalp
me. We’ll go together.” He cast an eye across his troops, Anelain, Kalab... they were ready. The
rangers of S’Hea poured into the city.
The Prince of Corin, soon to be King, had a sombre expression on his face, the weight of
responsibility looming of his head. Valin did manage a grin over Fadil’s comments however and
exchanged a glance with Anelain as she ran after Kalab, joining the fray.
From the East, Cully and his twin entered the fray on foot. The majority of mounted troops were
to the North and South, the archers and swordsmen to the East and West. By the time they came
into view of the city the King of S’Hea was no longer in sight, but given the spacing of the
troops, the young elf presumed his Uncle must have already made his way through the gates.
“It’s working,” he yelled to Glory, disbelief tingeing his tone.
“Of course!” Glory shouted back though he too had to admit to some of the same amazement.
After that there was no time for more talk.
Mel and the Ingraleis guards stayed close to Y’Roden and Silverthorn, the rangers and guards
fighting with a precision that belied the peaceful state of Ingraleis. Melaina fought with a barely
suppressed fury. She kept an eye on Mak throughout though, and paid close attention to the rest
of her siblings through the web. She was also watching for an opportune moment to sneak off
and try to get into the castle to free the captives, but that would not be easy. As they got further
into the city, cutting down Tallin’s troops got more difficult. Then Melaina noted a familiar face
riding beside the Demon mage as they exited the castle into the fray.
Mak knew his sister kept watching his back, but he had no time to feel irritation or anything else.
He had little concentration except for each faceless opponent who appeared before him.
Silverthorn fought in chilling silence, her jade gaze intent as the blade sliced through the
Nuru’kh-ai with proficient ease. The dark-haired elf stuck close to her husband, the couple
guarding each other’s back with a competence that gave some indication of how familiar having
to do such a thing was. A movement caught her eye and she glanced upwards. “Tallin” she said
shortly.
Placing his boot on the upright chest of an Nuru’kh-ai Y’Roden pulled his sword back, the sound
of flesh and bone cracking and giving way drowned out by his wife’s voice as the King removed
the enemy from his blade. Chancing a look forwards he caught sight of Tallin riding out of the
barbican, Mystical not far behind. With grim determination he pressed forward, fighting his way
through the throng, his objective quite clear.
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Chapter 5
The rare tour of the Eheiling Narhn flagship had come to an abrupt end. It was time and the
Portal Masters had gently deposited Argent and his men well beyond the hum of the suspensor
fields. A radiant glimmer of light went up, a flickering waver of air...and the ships vanished as
the cloaking shields were activated once again...a trick, a bending of the light Whispin's twin
suns and no more.
"So...it is here we come full circle, Krassc." the High Matriarch left the prow of the ship and
began barking orders, then joined the Navigators and HelmsMasters, her War Duke pacing
behind her. "We've been warriors...then outcasts...rose to merchants and pirates...now we arrive
at warriors again." Damara purred as the sandships pulled into several tight formations, the
smaller, faster ships running in a double inverted VV shape ahead of the larger, slower ships.
Armoured archers assembled on the decks of all ships and gunports slid open revealing row after
row of black powder cannon.
"Come out...come out..." Damara's dark eyes glittered as they settled on the Northern walls of
Corin as they grew larger, "And let us see you better..."
Inside the walls, the Uruk and Orc stared out at seemingly empty farmland but heard the
singsong, taunting voice carried on the wind. Shimmering waves of heat flickered in the distance
and seemed to wrap from east to west, covering the horizon. Confused, more and more came to
watch and wonder.
"Damara..."
The Matriarch of the Midnight's Pride hailed Damara, "We are not enough in number to draw
them all out...but perhaps we can fool them..."
"And what do you propose?"
There was a long silence...then...
"We have not one, but two suns to play with. Why not reflect, rather than conceal with our
shields? We could appear double in number, let them think the threat even greater, let them run
themselves ragged across empty farmland..."
Rich laughter flooded the Helm. "Aye...its worth a try..."
"HelmsMaster?" Damara related the idea to her Helmsman, then nodded as he relayed the
request below to the massive crew of engineers.
"On my mark, no sooner. Once the shields are dropped, draw them out...and grind them under."
Damara's voice dripped poison. Her people might be outcasts, merchants and pirates, but at
heart, they were Elves and the Nuru and Orcs were foul abominations to be slaughtered.
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Beneath deck, engineers frantically began recalibrating equipment, making subtle changes...and
then waited. It would either work, or not. No matter either way, the Eheiling Narhn still went to
war.
Several minutes of waiting passed as the ships silently approached the northern walls. As one,
the cloaking shields dropped, then absorbed and refracted the light...Tallin Modar's forces faced
thousands of monstrous ships bearing down on the Northern quadrant of the city...half of them
illusionary.
"BOO!" Matriarch Merrow of the Pirate Guild was the first to break the silence the rest of the
ships maintained. Archers and lightly armed elves leapt from smaller skiffs, and as one charged
the gates that were flung wide open to allow the flood of Nuru’kh-ai and Orcs alike to pour out.
"Tallin Modar...release my son E'than Attar or I will tear this city apart, beginning with ripping
your flesh from your body and using the skin from your ass to post my colours on the tallest ship
of my fleet..."
Krassc felt his mouth...for all the seriousness of the moment, begin to pull up into a wide grin as
he struggled to remain stern faced and scowling.
"From his ass? Really? I'm not sure that would be entirely necessary or pleasant..."
"I'd threaten to use the skin from something else of his," Damara angled her head up at her mate
and War Duke as the first of the cannon and ancient lasguns began firing into the teeming
swarms of filth, "But I seriously doubt he has enough of that part of him to make a decent
banner. Let's see what this Tallin Modar is made of, shall we?"
***
The Dragon Mage had shifted at one point, gently grasping Kalab in her fore claws and sailing
up onto the battlements. Safely atop Anelain shifted back again and drew her bow, knocking an
arrow as she positioned herself to strike. The walls were overrun with S’Hean Rangers now,
giving them the advantage of height and distance to dispatch the milling Orc within the city.
“Look at him,” Tallin growled to Mysti, his jet-black eyes following the progress of his nephew,
“arrogant ass. I killed his Father, his Cousin, what makes him think I won’t kill him too?” The
blade strapped to Tallin’s back shrieked as he pulled it from the scabbard, glinting in the light of
the rising sun. “Interfering pointed eared freaks should have stayed in S’Hea where they
belonged. But no, they had the audacity to marry into my family. They’ve even tried to bury
Modar with that apostrophized crap they call a last name. No more… it is time for the race of
man to stand on its own. I’ve had enough of their pompous immortal, holier than thou attitudes.
Corin is MINE dammit, and it is going to stay that way.”
Digging booted heels into his horse the Demon Mage launched forwards, bellowing at the
Nuru’kh-ai to let Y’Roden through, and quite ignoring the mental threats of an unknown female
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that came unbidden to his mind. “Come here and face me if you dare BOY.”
Emerald eyes narrowed to slits as the King of S’Hea eyed his Uncle, rage burning in the galaxy
of his soul. Spurring his mount into a dead run, Ro leaned forward, riding low over the beast’s
thick curved neck. The Nuru’kh-ai parted before him like grass blades in the breeze, freeing him
to barrel at top speed into Tallin Modar. There was a body jarring crunch as horse and man
impacted, the Demon Mage knocked flat across the rump of his horse as the heavier S’Hean
bowled into him. A grasping hand caught at Y’Roden’s shirt and the human let his weight drop,
pulling both men off their steeds and bringing them down on the cobble stones in a clattered of
steel.
Ro’s Elven genetics lent him the speed to be the first to rise, but even still, catching a strike from
Tallin’s dagger in his muscular arm. A heavy boot caught his Uncle in the gut, knocking the air
from him long enough for the half-elf to grasp the hilt and pull it free, blood rushing freely from
the striking raven tattoo that bound him to his wife. The pain didn’t faze him, but the location of
the wound fuelled his anger. “Get up Uncle… we have a score to settle.”
Mel stepped up beside her uncle. One hand held a bloodied sword; it matched the blood spattered
on her dragonscale armour. Her other hand reached up and grabbed the reins of Mystical's horse.
"I wouldn't even think of interfering if I were you, Mother dearest." Her voice dripped with
sarcasm. Her fingers let go of the reins as Mystical grabbed her hair and Melaina in turn grabbed
the Ali-maera's wrist and pulled her off her horse.
"You always were such a holier-than-thou bitch, Melaina Alcarin...Always going off half-cocked
about things you don't understand...You take after your father like that..."
Melaina growled. "And it's proud I am of that, you traitorous snake. You're not worthy to wipe
Addah's boots and I swear you will rue the day you ever married that swine you call husband..."
At Mystical's stunned look, a dry laugh fell from Melaina's lips. "Oh yes, I know all about my
new step-father. Just because I blocked you doesn't mean I didn't keep tabs on you." Mystical
pulled on Melaina's hair, bending the younger woman forward, but she hadn't counted on the
half-elf's agility and found herself facing a dagger in her stomach. "Let me go, you treacherous
whore, or I will gut you like the pig you are before your husband learns of the prize you carry..."
A thunderous sound reverberated through the land, shaking the ground like an earthquake, giving
warning of what was to come only to those that knew the danger. The massive beasts swept
across the battlefield in a tidal wave of black, their thes'mirn shod hooves flashing in the sun as
the blocked heels tore into the earth. Their eyes caught the light from the sun and they reflected
blood red, and with their nostrils flaring they looked like horses from hell.
Their riders were tall in the saddle and said not a word; dressed in black, they made it hard for
the eye to point out where horse ended and rider began. Even their helm was black, leaving eyes
hard pressed to see pass the black blur and catch even the slightest angle of nose or chin. Their
gleaming swords were pointed at the sky as if beckoning the enemy to send one last prayer to
their chosen god for a quick and merciful death. Behind them, their cloaks fluttered, a flash of
blood red amongst the sea of ebony.
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“Do not enter the city!” Argent’s voice roared over the deafening beat of pounding hooves just as
they met the on rush of the enemy. His sword flashed, striking through flesh and bone.
Somewhere in the distance a horse screamed, and his own grabbed up an Orc and began shaking
it like a rag doll.
Laughter almost kept Tallin from rising, but he was perfectly sombre by the time he came eye to
eye with his nephew. “Why… can’t you and yours just learn to stay the hell out of my way?
Once I’m done with you… I’m going after your blonde friend; Galain is it? All I ever wanted
was that sister of yours, and my rightful place as King of Corin, but none of you could learn to
mind your own business. I’ve been more than patient I think, its time for you all to die.”
“Galain is no friend of mine,” Ro snarled, “now shut up and raise your sword.”
“Ah … yes… the ever honourable D’Riel,” Tallin laughed, bringing his blade to bear.
“Don’t count on it…” Tager Terne’s Bastard-Sword shrieked off of Tallin Modar’s blade,
sending sparks flying into the air as both men moved in unison, parrying, turning, striking again.
“My, my… still carrying your old mentor’s blade I see. I must admit, he died well, not even a
scream out of him.”
Without warning Y’Roden’s fist connected with Tallin’s face, sending the Demon Mage reeling
backwards. Crimson bled through emerald green, rage and pain combining to awaken Y’Roden’s
personal Demon. Caught between keeping it at bay and a mad desire to let it rip his Uncle to
shreds he let out a wild yell and launched a series of blows that had the human struggling to fend
him off.
Tallin was on the ground before he knew what hit him, his sword clattering across the
cobblestones and out of reach as his back impacted. The flash of his nephew’s sword in the sun
might have been the last thing he saw, if it were not for a bit of foresight. “KILL ME AND SHE
DIES!”
Ro’s sword halted bare inches from completing its killing stroke; cat-slit eyes following the
direction his Uncle pointed in. His gaze met the terrified sea green of his eldest daughter, her
throat in the grip of a Nuru’kh-ai that stood on the Castle wall, dangling the Princess in mid air.
A blade was gripped in its other hand, held poised to gut her.
“SI’LYEN!!!”
Silverthorn swore, jade eyes cold as she looked at Tallin with contempt. "Check" she said softly.
Her own sword glittered in her hand. "Of course, you've forgotten one little detail. Ro might be
known for having a heart, but I am not. She will die anyway, won't she? You will get tired of
your little hostage in time. So what is stopping me from killing you now anyway?"
Her unreadable expression did have its uses. Whilst she kept the demon mage focused on her
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words, her blade, the dark-haired elf did something she had never done before - accessed the
D'Riel web connections for people other than her husband and children. Cold words suddenly
snapped into the minds of all dragons connected to the web. "Dragons in the air... Now! I want
those walls cleared of Nuru’kh-ai!"
Without thought Anelain obeyed her Dera, leaping from the ramparts in mid-shift to soar over
the city, heading for the Castle walls. A blue-black glint caught out of the corner of her eye
revealed Valin in his draconic form as well. The pair banked and winged their way towards the
Castle walls, Valin’s faceted sea green eyes lighting with rage when he caught sight of his sister
and her tormentor.
Don’t do anything stupid, Anelain warned, just do what we were told to do.
Cully yanked his blade out of a Rock-Trolls groin and danced backwards as the beast fell,
bracing himself as the ground shook beneath the impact. A second later he was using the corpse
as a form of higher ground as he fought off a pair of Nuru’kh-ai. “Glory? You alright?”
The warriors from the Eastern Quadrant were hopelessly outnumbered and the twins had found
themselves herded towards the Castle walls. From the looks of things the enemy intended on
pinning them there and slaughtering the lot like cattle. “I think we are in trouble. A lot… of
trouble….”
Glory just grunted at first. He was heavily engaged with a Nuru’kh-ai of immense size and
immense stink. He also had immense skill with the sword and it was driving the elf crazy. A
dozen scratches and deeper wounds marked his body and he was dead tired.
"You can say that again, but don't. I'm okay," he finally managed to answer as his sword slid
through his opponent's skull and then got stuck. He was certain these things' heads were made of
rock or something.
“Eh…” Cully responded intelligently, “OW!” The edge of a hilt guard had caught the titian
blonde’s temple and for a moment he thought his entire head was ringing… but, his head had
rung before, and it didn’t sound quite like that. “Do you hear that? I mean, not Dera Silverthorn,
but… a horn? And did she mean us?” He was a little too busy to shift to draconic form at the
moment.
At the edge of the field a horn was indeed blowing, announcing the arrival of Corin’s Lords as
their battalions thundered onto the field. The Obsidian horses cut a swath into the sea of
Nuru’kh-ai that was pinning the Amazons and S’Hean Rangers from the East, Lords Wyvern,
Arketh and Black at their head.
"I think she did -- all dragons, right? That'd be you, me and Mak and whomever else. Gods, now
is just not the right time -- is it?" And Glory heard the horn as well and he stared around, beating
off yet another attacker.
"We're saved!" he suddenly gasped with relieved delight.
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“Is that Rhodry? And Lord Wyvern? Well hells… saved is right. Here… I’ll cover you, you
shift, and then you can cover me. How’s that?” Cully angled so that Glory was behind him in the
shelter of Corin’s wall. Hardly enough room for SunSong, but he had every confidence that his
brother wouldn’t crush him in the process.
"Right, sure," Glory answered, mist already covering his Elven form. A few seconds later a
young gold appeared and whuffled Cully's hair.
Squashed, SunSong said before he blew a gout of flame over the elf's head and set three
Nuru’kh-ai on fire. Oh that was satisfying!
Cully reflexively patted at his hair and eyed the gold above him from a semi-crouched position.
“Watch the do!” The scent of burning Orc flesh curled his nose hairs and the young elf gagged
slightly before he was enshrouded in mist, a gold with ruddy red tinges emerging beside
SunSong and spewing his own sheet of flame onto an advancing Rock Troll. Oh… that IS
satisfying! Let’s get our tails in gear before that Thorn lady comes out and kicks them into gear.
Powerful haunches launched the dragon skywards, skimming over the combatant’s heads before
angling a wing and heading back for the City Walls.
Right, SunSong answered, whuffling at his twin brother and giving him a toothy grin. He leaped
into the air with ease, then wobbled a bit before he got it together and flew upward, obeying
Silverthorn's call. Not far away he could see Lalaith taking to the sky and he knew Mak had
shifted too.
Y’Roden’s eyes were still on Si’Lyen, his heart in their depths. “No,” he said to his wife, “We
are going to let him go.” Stepping back he shifted his attention back to Tallin, “This isn’t over…
I will catch up to you eventually, and you won’t always have a helpless child to hide behind. Tell
him to pull her back onto the wall… NOW.”
Tallin rolled to his feet and backed up against Mystical’s horse. “Oh no… not until we are safely
back in the barbican,” he chuckled. “Sorry my dear, but that is my wife you have a dagger
pressed to there, and I’m afraid if you cause her any harm little Miss Si’Lyen is going to make a
horrible mess on the ground.”
The King of S’Hea growled low in his chest, but made no move aside from putting a restraining
arm around Arianne. He would not risk the life of his daughter, not for any reason.
As for Little Miss Si'Lyen, she was simply frozen with shock and fear. She stared down at her
father, willing him to just go -- to just leave. She didn't want him to risk himself or anyone else
for her. She felt sick as her thoughts zigzagged crazily about -- memories of when Tallin had first
caught her causing her knees to crumple.
Go Addah, she kept repeating, more to herself than anyone else. Just go.
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Melaina looked up at Tallin, her eyes hot with fury. "And she's my mother... But I think I pity
you more, you chose her, treacherous whore that she is..." And with that, the half elf stepped
back, her eyes flying to her cousin with a promise that she would get her out of there.
Mystical focused her eyes on Melaina, some strange urge inside her trying to fight against the
coldness that had overtaken her. She recognized the tears coming but refused to shed them. She
would not be made weak by love, as she had in the past. "We will settle this later, daughter..."
Mysti regained her mount and moved closer to her husband, her dark eyes watching the blonde
half elf closely.
Tallin’s booted foot found the stirrup and he mounted the Black he had ridden out on.
“Y’Roden… a pleasure as always.” The Demon Mage bowed at the waist then turned his mount
to match paced with Mystical’s as they galloped back to the safety of the Castle itself.
Y’Roden was shaking visibly with rage by the time the pair disappeared, his eyes on Si’Lyen as
the Nuru’kh-ai moved to pull her back onto the wall. A flash of blue-black scales filled the halfelf’s vision and his heart leapt in fear as his son flew close to the ramparts, lithe front claws
snatching the Princess from the Orc’s grip and soaring skyward. With a gasp of disbelief Ro
darted forward, eyes focused on his eldest child as Valin twisted about in the air and swept low,
releasing Si’Lyen several feet above his Addah’s head. Sliding to a stop the King of S’Hea
dropped his sword and caught his daughter, the shock dropping him to his knees “Oh gods! Sil!”
Every bit the father at the moment he fairly crushed the slight strawberry blonde to his chest,
“Caren?” Hot tears filled his eyes and he squeezed them shut for a moment, unheeding of the
battle still raging around them.
"Addah!" Sil strove hard not to dissolve into tears here. This was a battlefield and her father had
totally... oh gods... "Addah," she whispered softly.
Atop the walls the Nuru’kh-ai roared and bellowed at his companions who hurriedly climbed
into position, DragonSteel tipped arrows ready to fly.
Rage boiled over in the half elf beside her Doro, his wife and his reclaimed daughter. Her eyes
flashed as she lifted her hands and watched the clouds pull together above the Castle. Thunder
rumbled in the clouds as purple lightening flashed down, somehow totally avoiding the dragons
and striking the Nuru’kh-ai as they bellowed first in rage, then disbelief and then pain. Slowly
fried corpses dropped from the roof of the Castle as Melaina held the clouds there.
Fadil let out a frustrated growl as he finally fought his way through to his King. He was covered
in black ichor and lumps best left unidentified, and there were large gaps in his memory of the
last couple of hours. Largely he'd broken through here because he'd run out of things to kill, and
the red haze was starting to clear from his eyes. "Ro! We're spread out all through the city! We
need to regroup!" He threw a desperate glance at Silverthorn. They needed to get the King away
before one stray shot brought him down.
"Just send me home. I'm useless to both of you here. Send me home and keep fighting," Sil said
softly, feeling like a useless heap of dangerous burden.
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Find Ki though, she pleaded silently.
Y’Roden kissed Si’Lyen’s forehead before lifting his gaze to stare blankly at Fadil for a moment,
catching sight of Reece in the background as the Mercenary fought his way through the crowd.
Mel was covering them for the moment, but she couldn’t keep it up for long. Hefting his
daughter into his arms he jerked his head towards his sword, “Bring my blade.”
Leaving one of the three to follow the order he shouldered his way through several S’Hean
Rangers, “Reece… take her to Nenlante, take her straight to Summerlin.” As the half-elf spoke
he shifted Sil into the human’s arms, then cupped her face. “None of this is your fault, do you
hear me? None of this is on your head. Your Mother is waiting for you; she’ll take care of you. I
love you Sil… and don’t worry, I’ll find Ki.”
Reece nodded mutely, sheathing his sword and taking the Elven Princess into his arms, averting
his gaze as Y’Roden spoke softly to her.
Sil could only nod, but her soul was too raw and she was too sickened. She just took her father's
words to heart and sucked in the comfort. Later would come too soon for her.
The S’Hean King assigned two Rangers to escort Reece and his precious charge through the
S’Hean wards. Not willing to take any chances he opened the portal himself, on the spot, and
waited as the quartet passed through the vortex into the safety of the rose garden. As the door
closed Ro pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a brief moment before allowing
the Guards to move him to a safe distance from the walls. “Right… lets clean the garbage out of
our city,” he growled, “who has my sword?”
"It's on the ground beside you, Doro..." Melaina pulled her hands back, watching with a twisted
sense of satisfaction as the last of the Nuru’kh-ai fell from the battlements. "Do you want me in
the air or on the ground?" She looked none the worse for wear, other than the blood that covered
her shining blue armour and the few nicks and scratches on her arms. Of course, that was before
the DragonSteel arrow plunged through her shoulder and she cursed colourfully. The Orc who'd
fired it was dead within a matter of seconds, but Melaina still swore as she looked at the arrow
protruding from her shoulder.
"It's here,” Silverthorn said shortly, handing the blade over. Judging by the carefully controlled
temper that could be seen flashing in her eyes, her husband was probably lucky she didn't stab
him with it. "I still think you should have let me kill him. You're almost certain to regret that
fact, you know?"
Jade green eyes glanced up and swore fluently. The dragons were doing a good job of clearing
the walls of Orcs and Nuru’kh-ai, but there were still those armed with crossbows that were
resisting death or capture. "We have to get out of here. Ro, go with Fadil. Mel, that looks nasty.
Perhaps you should go back to S'Hea?"
Y’Roden grunted in response to Silverthorn and wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword.
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“Mel, she’s right, get that looked at, now.” His eyes suddenly shifted upwards, “But first… I’d
recommend running.” One of the Diirlathe blacks had been hit, a well-aimed bolt penetrating the
beast’s firelung and setting off an aerial explosion.
“CLEAR THE MARKETPLACE!” The King of S’Hea was already moving, his free hand
wrapping around his wife’s wrist as he bolted through the market in an attempt to avoid the
plummeting, flaming behemoth.
"This way!" Silverthorn turned abruptly down a side street, dragging her husband around the
corner with her. A gigantic fireball that had once been a dragon exploded mere inches from
where they had been standing. Heat washed along the roads, knocking the couple from their feet.
Mel bit back the grumble as she grimaced in pain and ducked down a side street. She had barely
made it into decent coverage when the blast knocked her off her feet and drove the arrow further
through her shoulder, pushing the point through the back. With a curse, she broke off the end she
could see and figured the rest would have to wait. Her ears were ringing though... And if Conlan
hadn't pushed her through their bond, she probably would have passed out. As it was, she came
dangerously close. It was his voice that urged her on, his strength that helped her find her way
from the burning marketplace... and 'Loki's sense of direction that led her back towards the rest
of Y’Roden’s army. It was also their good sense that kept her from trying to storm the castle to
finish her discussion with Mystical...
“Aire Rilme, Aerdon dragons really know how to go out with a bang,” Ro muttered, and then
coughed into his wife’s hair. Both elves were singed and coated in dust and soot, though the
King had taken the brunt of it, landing on top of his wife. With a grunt he shifted off of her,
rolling onto his back for a moment. “Bloody hells… that smarts. Come on, we have to move.”
Scrambling to his feet the half-elf grabbed his sword in one hand and Silverthorn with the other,
tugging the dark haired woman to her feet to run down the street amongst smoke and flame and
what seemed to be charred dragon flesh.
Fadil sent one look after Ro and Thorn, decided she could take care of him, and went after Mel.
She looked like she was on her last legs, and he'd be there to drag her on if she fell. The back of
his head prickled with heat, though he was probably imagining the smell of singing hair. "Come
on, Melaina. We have to get a little bit further before you can fall down. Make it out and I'll buy
you a beer."
"Make it a fifth of Jamison's and you've got a deal..." She attempted a smile, but it wasn't
working very well. "Think you can tug that arrow the rest of the way out? I can't seal the wound
until it's gone..." The rage was starting to cool and Mel was starting to feel her weariness and the
blood loss. But she wasn't about to go back to S'Hea to be coddled like a baby either.
Fadil took a moment to look at the wound. "I can do that. Hang on for a minute while we find
somewhere safe to do it. Here, lean on me. Hells, it'll be quicker if I carry you." He wasn't going
to listen to any argument and just scooped her up in his arms. He didn't cosset women, he was
too practical for that, but he was also too practical to be slowed by a wounded comrade.
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Once they were far enough from the marketplace, he found a quiet alley and laid her down. "I'm
going to have to cut round the head," he said, pulling his dagger out of his belt. It's going to hurt
like hell. If I had that whiskey I'd give it to you now."
"Trust me, I've been through worse... And I think I might still have enough adrenaline to not feel
it... Gods, I can't believe that traitorous bitch..." She clenched her teeth as he cut around the
arrowhead to pull it out. He was right, it did hurt like hell, and she was fairly sure she'd made her
lip bleed when she bit down into it, but it could have been there before...
Fadil pulled the arrowhead out, grimacing at the wet squelching sound it made leaving her flesh.
Blood pumped from the wound, and he put his hand into it while he tore a pad of cloth off his
sleeve. "You sure you can heal it? We could find someone else."
"And give Doro a reason to park me in S'Hea? Not happening..." With a grimace, Mel closed her
eyes and let 'Loki pull the armour back over the wound. Conlan took control through her mind
and pulled the skin back together. The wound would be raw for a while, but the bleeding would
stop and she'd still have use of her arm at least.
***
The quiet gardens of Nenlante were a sharp contrast to the roaring battle they had just stepped
out of, but Reece didn’t pause to smell the roses. Bearing his wife’s daughter in his arms he
made his way past hedges and gently dancing fountains up the stairs to the crystalline palace.
Ignoring startled looks and hurried questions he followed Y’Roden’s orders and took Si’Lyen
directly to her Mother. His arms rather full he stopped in front of the chambers he shared with
Summerlin and tapped hurriedly with the toe of his boot.
Summerlin knew her daughter was here and opened the door before her husband could knock
again.
"I'm here," she said breathlessly, catching Si'Lyen quickly and kissing her husband. Oh husband,
she sang silently.
Reece smiled down at his wife and carried Si’Lyen on in to lay her down on a divan. “Here we
are, safe at home. Let me get you something to drink ok? Would you like Mai’Tus juice or tea?”
You would be proud of your son, he sent to his wife, Valin plucked her right out of the arms of a
Nuru’kh-ai. Dammit… look at this collar, how are we going to get this off?
Sil opened her mouth once, twice and then just let the tears go. She couldn't even begin to
believe she was actually free and she drank in the sight of her mother and step-father.
"I'll get her tea first," Summerlin replied, going practical, yet beaming with pride for her son. Her
heart beat frantically though. She would not have fared well watching the rescue and yet...
Tea making took little time and she proffered the delicate cup to her daughter before she gave
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Reece a worried look.
I'm not sure what to do about the collar. It obviously can't just be tugged off. The Elen mage was
already letting her senses wrap around the offending metal, attempting to assess what it was
made of and how it worked.
Well, I guess we should just leave it for now until she is feeling a little better, Reece responded as
he covered his stepdaughter with a blanket. We will figure it out. The human smiled reassuringly
at Sil before straightening and putting an arm around Summerlin. “I should get back to
Y’Roden,” he said softly, “Will the two of you be all right? I’ll come back as soon as I can, I
promise.”
Summerlin had found a tiny pattern of runes on her daughter's collar and was fascinated by them
for a few seconds before she stared up at her husband and realized he was leaving again. She
stared dumbly at him for a moment, speechless and then wrapped her arms around him.
"Gods, I hadn't realized you'd have to run back again," she said, misery lacing her voice. She
looked into his eyes and tried to just smile.
"We'll be all right. Not great, but we'll be all right. We'll be much, much better as soon as you
return home." She leaned into him and kissed him. "Be back as soon as you can," she said softly.
“I will. I love you Sum,” he murmured, kissing her in return and hugging her tight to his chest.
“We have Sil back, that is one step in a positive direction. We will win this thing.” Stealing
another kiss he released her and grimaced when he realized the caked blood and dirt on his
person had deposited itself on both wife and stepdaughter. “Meanwhile, the two of you might
want to look into a hot bath. Sorry about that.” Caressing the Elen’s hair one last time he headed
back toward the door to find the S’Hean Rangers that would get him back through the wards.
Sum's eyes watered. She couldn't help it. As if she cared about a little blood on her person? Her
husband had been here, he was alive and she loved him beyond life itself.
"We love you. I love you. Please come home safely," she said after Reece. Summerlin was back
on her feet and nearly through the portal herself, simply aching to be at her husband's side
though she now knew why she'd stayed back from the battles.
"Rest, Sil love. More tea? Then a bath and fresh clothes and you tell me what you want, all
right?"
Mother-mode at its gentlest.
I love you, she sent before she turned away, letting the portal close.
***
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Within the safety of Corin’s walls Tallin dismounted, roaring in rage as he lit in to the Nuru’khai who had lost Si’Lyen on the walls. “YOU MORON! How hard could it be just to pull her back
onto the walls?” His fist met the beast’s hard skull, cracking the skin over his knuckles. The pain
only infuriated him further and black magic crackled over his fingers, “She was the KEY you
idiot!”
“Oi’m sorry Master! But the Dragon snatched her away! There was nothin’ Oi could do!”
The Demon Mage choked, the words catching on his own fury as he ignited the Orc in black fire.
The beast shrieked and flailed backwards, desperate to extinguish the flame. Turning Tallin
grabbed the reins of Mystical’s horse to steady the snorting animal, then reached up to catch her
by the waist, “Come here.”
Mystical slid into his arms, her body shaking with rage, and though she'd never admit it, a hint of
fear. She'd never seen Melaina so calm about her anger; it had always been an out of control
emotion in her daughter. But out there, Melaina had very much been in control of herself and her
emotions, despite her rage. The Ali-Maera wasn't quite sure how to handle that...
Dark eyes looked up at Tallin. "That went well..." The sarcasm was almost dripping from her
tongue. Her eyes flared as she pulled away a bit, knowledge that the collar she still wore, despite
his change of her clothing earlier, had made it far too easy for Melaina to threaten her.
Her husband snorted derisively, ignoring the death throes of the Nuru’kh-ai behind them as he
slid his hands under Mystical’s hair and flipped it back over her shoulders. Callused fingers lifted
the cool metal of her collar from the abjurer’s neck, his thumb running over a run at the front, the
click of metal revealing a small panel beneath. “I trust… my wife… that you will not betray me
when this leaves your throat. Without use of a conduit I find myself at a serious disadvantage… I
need your powers now.”
Pulling a small metal pin from his cloak the Mage slowly tapped on a pattern of runes inside the
collar. The metal emitted a humming noise that increased in intensity by the moment. Tallin’s ice
blue eyes met Mystical’s grey and he smiled, “I am not mistaken in my faith… am I?”
Mystical's eyes were serious as they met his. "No, my love, you're not... Even were I to somehow
fall back into the light, I honour the vows I made..." There was a hint of ice in her words, a bit of
offence having been taken in his asking the question, but it was only a small hint that faded
shortly. This darker side of her had been slowly gathering energy from the death around her, as
well as through some of their more interesting pursuits... She felt the powers return, her eyes
glowed faintly as she gripped the front of Tallin's jacket and kissed him, letting a trace of her
power out through it.
“I didn’t think so,” he muttered against her mouth, a final click completely releasing the collar.
The circular bit of metal soared through the air as the Mage flung it away with one hand; the
other buried in Mysti’s hair as he returned her kiss. An explosion somewhere behind them
revealed what would have happened should the wrong combination have been entered. Wrapping
his arm around the Abjurer’s waist Tallin lifted her up, pressing their bodies together as power
washed over them, his own rising to embrace and mingle with that of his wife.
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After a moment he let the dark haired beauty slide down the front of him and drew his head back.
“Very well then my love, let us figure out how we are going to hold this Castle with the D’Riel
Hounds barking at our gates.”
Mystical looked up at him, keeping her body close to his. "We'll need to use everything we have.
The two boys, Y’Roce and Imoreki... They will be a deterrent for Y’Roden, perhaps not in the
same way as Si'Lyen, but he won't harm any of his children... We hold the keys to stopping
Melaina in Brianna and her husband, who will also stop any of the Ingraleis soldiers from doing
anything foolhardy. But our biggest key to stopping my daughter is E'than... Provided the
imbeciles don't kill him first..." On that, Mystical's eyes shifted to the Nuru’kh-ai standing
behind Tallin, a promise of intense pain in her gaze if they did something quite that stupid.
"Those five may be the only advantage we still hold, other than our own powers, husband..."
Another slight crackle of power flashed between their bodies, making the bondmarks wriggle in
rather pleasantly painful ways.
An uncharacteristically soft smile curved Tallin’s lip, shades of Grendorin shifting in the depths
of his eyes. The part of him that was still human, that still needed to be loved, that still felt.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, “just… beautiful. Come my beloved, my destiny… my Queen.” He
kissed her again, then slipped Mystical’s arm through his and escorted her through the archway
that led into the courtyard.
Left behind, the Nuru’kh-ai exchanged nervous glances, and then ascended the walls to pick off
anyone that dared approach the charred marketplace.
***
Blue eyes watched as Anelain winged away, his thoughts on her for the moment and praying that
she wouldn’t come to harm. Turning back to the matter-at-hand, he had just loaded the crossbow
he had picked up from one of his victims when a shout rang out across the battlements.
“Incoming!”
Kalab wasn’t sure whose voice it was, but at times like these it didn’t matter as long as it made
sense. The forest elf ducked as the black dragon padded overhead, the smell of brimstone
temporarily gagging him.
Sahar danced aside and out of the way of the sword aimed for her head. Her ankle hooked
around the ranger’s that had been behind her as she quickly faded. The enemies’ swords passed
through them, and cut in at a level that left one Nuru’kh-ai decapitated and the other partially.
“Maybe we should tie ourselves together so that when you fade we all fade.”
The shadow woman eyed the young ranger and snorted, “It wouldn’t do much good; they’re
retreating.”
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The sound of the dead and the dying reached the Shroudling King’s ears as he dismounted.
Wiping blood from his eyes, he whipped his hair out of his face and looked around the
battlefield. There were a few of his Knights that lay on the ground bleeding, but far from being
dead. He would have to count their numbers soon, and learn who would have to be sent home to
cross over into the Mirror Realm, and who could be healed.
“Let them go,” he called out to a few of the younger knights as they raced past after the fleeing
enemy. The shroudlings turned their mounts around and returned to where he was, dismounting
before they came to a halt. “They will be back. Draw your swords and check for any that are still
alive, if they are, send them to whatever god the soulless bastards believe in. Zolin, find Baysen,
have him set up an area for the wounded.”
Argent watched as the lad remounted and headed off, "Valja, find Damara’s flag ship and ask if
there is anything that we can help them with, be it recovering bodies or weapons… And do it as
politely as possible.” He added as an after thought.
The High Matriarch had left the helm at some point during the skirmish and had the crew on
deck. She stood silently watching and had at last let her mate...her War Duke, take command of
the vessel and lead the attack...as was his right.
In time, the Nuru found sense enough to fire massive grappling hooks onto the decks of the
smaller ships and try to haul them over. The lasguns made quick work of the ropes, but also with
their age, came a certain lack of reliability. One had even exploded in a wave of radiant blue
light, the ship disintegrating as the concentrated energy set of a chain reaction that spread to
several other ships before finally dying. The smouldering ruin left behind encompassed both
Allied forces and those of Modar before the Nuru’kh-ai began their retreat.
"Cut them down before they get out of range!" Krassc shouted to those manning the hundreds of
skiffs and man-o-wars as leaned over the railing of the mother freighter and watched the masses
either attempt to hide, run for the shelter of the forests or retreat into the city itself.
So far, no word had come from Tallin Modar to Damara...something that didn't sit well with
Krassc. A flag from the hide of a mage's arse flying with their colours painted on them was
just...wrong.
But Damara did not make idle threats. She would indeed rip the city apart if she had too. It was
simply a matter of time.
***
The Nuru’kh-ai had been instructed not to let Galain sleep. Whenever it seemed the Elen was
about to give in to the effects of the venom and pass out; one would hit him, douse him with ice
water, or brush his skin with a hot coal. The toxin itself brought strange dreams and
hallucinations. Although aware of the pain it was likely he didn’t remember the source, or even
where he was.
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Samara arrived first thing in the morning, as promised, well-rested and ready to play. “Let him
down,” she ordered, “He isn’t going anywhere.” Chains rattled and clicked as the beasts did her
bidding, letting the Elf slump to the floor.
Galain couldn't even begin to raise his head. The night had been punctured with the physical
torture the Nuru’kh-ai had visited upon him whenever he tried to slip into blessed oblivion. And
when fully awake his mind's eye had seen frightening images and hallucinations that had
confused and frightened him. 'Lain's wings had retracted -- the dragon desperate to avoid damage
at least, though his consciousness was as dazed as the elf's.
His joints and limbs ached; his body felt like it was on fire and when he finally managed to cast
an eye upward he could have sworn he was staring at a horned creature with the most hideous
visage. He blinked a few times until the now unfortunately familiar face of Samara swam into
view.
"What's for breakfast?" he asked weakly. His tongue felt twice its size and he dropped his head,
fighting back a whimper of frustration.
A soft laugh echoed through the room and the Demoness knelt down beside the Elf, lifting his
head and pressing the rim of a goblet to his lips. “Drink.” The burgundy liquid within was bitter
and set the throat on fire. It quenched the thirst, but reacted to the toxin already in his blood,
making him susceptible to suggestion. “You will feel a little better soon. It isn’t all so bad.”
He drank thirstily and then nearly gagged.
"Not coffee," he said, close to retching, but unable to. His head swam and he felt unusually light,
but when he tried to move of his own accord he couldn't. He gave Samara a bleary-eyed look and
then dropped his head.
"When is soon?" he asked.
“Not too long. For now… all you have to do is listen.” Pale fingers gestured to the Nuru’kh-ai
and they hefted the Elen off the floor and lay him out on a narrow table. “Just… listen.” Words
filled his mind as she carved into his flesh with the tip of the rune-etched blade, the language
ancient and guttural, heavily laden with consonants.
The air crackled and snapped with power and it was more than hallucinations that filled the room
with heavy presence. With spell and blood she bound Galain’s attention to the dagger, making it
the centre of his universe, giving him a purpose that lived in his subconscious, and would haunt
his actions until what was desired… had been done.
Galain simply felt everything spin away. Whirl might have been a good word, but spin was more
like it. Nausea rose up again and he was reminded of the few times that perhaps he'd drunk too
much and paid for it with the loss of his equilibrium and pride.
"Okay," he whispered, not quite feeling the pain of the blade, and yet conscious of something
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being carved into him. He stared at it, unable to curse himself or fight as suggestion threaded its
way into his subconscious.
Rest… you have done very well. You may rest for a while now… Cold fingers ran over the Elen’s
flesh, healing the damage that had been done, taking away enough of the pain to send him into a
dreamless sleep.
No I haven't! Most of him wanted to retort, but Galain's body could only subside, his mind
acquiesce. Okay, he replied, rising against the coldness of her fingers. And then he knew nothing.
***
Linnis paced her room wearing a path in the rug in frustration. Why couldn't they just let her go?
She had been sent to a healer herself who had been kind enough to see to the nasty cut the halfelf had inflicted upon herself in Corin. They'd then ordered her to bed and would not let her out
until she was fully healed. Sure there were a few bumps and bruises, but nothing she couldn't
handle. But of course she needed someone to open the wards, and that would not happen until
the Master Healer said so. The brunette had ranted at him, and gods help her she'd even tried
being nice, but to no avail.
The brunette was just about in the right mood to throw something, and then realized there was
nothing breakable in her room. This only fuelled her anger, "that bastard" she yelled, "I bet Ro
told them to do it," she said to herself. After recent events she really wanted to make sure he
couldn't have any more children, that'd teach him!
"Dalharil." The voice was soft... and unexpected. Suddenly where there had been no one a tall,
dark-haired woman stood.
Linnis turned, her blue eyes showing warmth for the dark-haired woman. "Ilhar" she cried
running to embrace Nuuruhuine like a little girl. "Oh God it's terrible" she almost began to sob,
"he might as well be killing them himself" she buried her head in the Goddess' dark locks.
"Hush, my love." Nuuruhuine hugged the young woman tightly. "I know your pain, but it is time
to act. We cannot let this go on any longer. Are you ready?" She tilted Linnis' chin up with
delicate fingers, her dark eyes meeting the half elf's blue. "Will you help me?"
"Of course I will, whatever it is I can do it," Linnis said eagerness showing in her eyes. "Just tell
me what it is you want me to do, please, we have to make this stop." Nuuruhuine understood the
situation perfectly together they could stop this. The half-elf was blinded by the dark-haired
woman's false love she showed for her.
"Good. Good. You must be strong for your actions will not be popular. Others are blind to what
they are, but you are not. You see them clearly." The goddess shook her head. "Your mother
truly does not deserve you, and now that she is pregnant again..."
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“I am hardly popular now,” the half-elf conceded lowering her eyes, which suddenly widened,
anger quickly replacing shock. "WHAT! AGAIN! I don't believe it, how could she, how could
they...?" This was one of those times when Linnis wanted something to break. "Don't they have
enough children already. She can't even look after the ones she has now. GODS that WHORE!
And he's no better, impregnating anything in a skirt." The brunette paced the room continuing to
rant away in an animated manner.
"They are hardly fit to look after the children they already have" Nuuruhuine suggested softly.
"Those poor girls, how badly they will feel. After all, he does only seem to be interested in the
boys doesn't he? And this one is to be another son. I can't help thinking that they would be better
off elsewhere."
Linnis laughed mockingly, "yeah the boys, and producing them! The girls would be better off
elsewhere, I was, for a time..." she paused remembering her adoptive parents, how they had
loved her. Then the brunette thought of Silverthorn's reaction to her. "If only they had
somewhere they could go, somewhere they would be loved and not scorned by her. Why couldn't
she just keep her bloody legs closed...it would have saved a lot of pain..." Linnis trailed off, a
tear beginning to well in her blue eyes.
"Well, I suppose..." Nuuruhuine hesitated, "I suppose they could always come to me. I would
willingly look after them. Your mother would never go for that idea though. You know how
unreasonable she can be. She might not want them herself, but that would not stop her trying to
keep anyone else from loving them."
"Yes" Linnis agreed, "she is a vindictive bitch, She would never let them go willingly and Ro
would of course back her up over anything." She paused in her pacing trying to think, "couldn't
you just take them? I mean you are a Goddess,” she asked raising her eyebrows questioningly.
"I could, but would they come with me?" Nuuruhuine asked softly. "There is no telling what
stories their mother has told about me during their young lives." She paused and suggested
quietly, "it might perhaps be better if it was someone with whom they were more familiar. A
sister perhaps?"
"Me?" Linnis asked he eyebrows still raised, "well I suppose" she considered, "she probably has
filled their heads with lies and corruption. It might be better if I do it." She smiled at Nuuruhuine
pleased that she was actually going to do something. Her face fell slightly as the half-elf realized
something, "the wards, how do I get passed them? That's why I'm still stuck here. Couldn't you
drop them for me?"
"The wards will not be a problem if you are with the twins" the Goddess said softly. "They carry
S'Hean blood within their veins remember. All you have to do is remain with them." Her dark
eyes looked seriously at the half-elf. "Be careful, my dear. I do not want to lose you. Now, time
is slipping away from us. You must act whilst they are distracted with other things. Go! And take
care. I will meet you on the other side."
"I will be careful ilhar" Linnis said hugging the dark-haired woman kissing her on the cheek,
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"and I promise I won't let you down" her blue eyes showing love for the Goddess, and the love
she felt from her. The brunette grabbed a couple of items she needed and left her quarters
heading for the nursery. Little did any S'Hean know as they passed her in the corridors what
dastardly deed she was about to commit.
***
Agaru was beginning to tire; she was not use to long treks. An’Thaya had never been one to let
the Dragon have control for a few days at a time, and that time was generally spent in Callan’s
company, not flying from one end of a desert to another. They had made it past the sands, but the
current worry was the local populace’s warnings about Nuru’kh-ai inhabiting this particular
stretch of land. They had decided to keep to the skies as long as possible to avoid running across
them, but the Crimson was at the end of her endurance.
Finding a clear spot to land, as far as she could tell, the great beast landed heavily and folded her
wings, shifting forms to allow enough room for the next Dragon to land. Left on her own,
An’Thaya wrapped her arms around herself and backed up against a rocky outcropping, cursing
the cold beneath her breath.
Shadow shifted a few feet above the sands and let herself free fall the rest of the way, rather
enjoying the weightless sensation and the rush that came with it before her feet hit the ground.
The forest elf moved out of the way, as she quietly eyed An’Thaya. To say she looked decidedly
more innocent with her memory lapse probably had circumstances that she wouldn’t want to deal
with at the moment, so she settled on removing the cloak she had remembered to bring with her.
“Here, try this.” She said, offering it to her Ad’Vere.
A pair of booted feet crunched into the sand and gravel near Shadow and An'Thaya. Callan had
shifted much like the Copper but from far further up. His massive black wings simply stirred too
much debris to be practical for him to land otherwise and the Dragon Emperor had let his winged
half-Elven form glide closer to the sands, Ild'ashi clinging to his back, then dropped to the
ground in a half kneel, half crouch. Topaz eyes gazed out at the landscape ahead of them as
Yarwin began to spiral to the ground and landed several yards away, Adarin on his back. While
the silver settled and waited for the Elen King to slide to the ground, Callan peered up at Ash.
"My thanks for not throttling me on the way down."
"You're most welcome, m'lord...and don't think I wouldn't have tried if given the excuse."
Callan's eyes narrowed as he glared at the Ranger, then realized the S'Hean was teasing. A soft,
half laugh escaped him as his eyes went from the dark-skinned elf to Shadow and An'Thaya.
"Indeed. Women seem rather fond of either cutting me, trying to castrate me or yanking me
about by my ears. Throttling would be a pleasant change actually."
"That's one way of looking at it anyway,” Bran said dryly, shifting back to his Elven form. He
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smiled at Ghet, "not too bad a flight I hope?"
Ghet smiled faintly as she slid down from Bran's back. The flight had given her a rare moment of
peace. Soon she would have to act on her decision, and An'Thaya's mental state worried her. She
was not capable of giving her the guidance she needed. She grappled for Galain, but again she
could not reach him. "The flight was fine," she told Bran. "You make a very good passenger
service."
Why doesn’t that surprise me?” the Amazon muttered in Callan’s general direction as she
accepted the cloak from the Forest Elf and gratefully pulled it around her slight shoulders.
“D’Anke…I’m sorry, I can’t remember your name.” She actually managed a grin as her emerald
greens slid back to the Black Dragon, “Throttling can be arranged, if it will make you happy.”
One thing never changed, Tay was at her happiest when threatening someone with bodily harm.
Adarin was rather glad to be back on the ground, but gave Yarwin his thanks before he caught
the tail end of Tay's threat against Callan. He watched for a moment, smiling as he saw a
glimmer of his bondmate's usual self bubble through.
***
Linnis tried to look completely innocent, which should have been easy; she hadn't actually done
anything, yet. It was as if every person she passed in the corridors knew what she was going to
do. She could feel the eyes boring into her skull, as if they were saying we know. The brunette
shook herself trying to get rid of those thoughts. A determined expression crossed her face; she
was going to do this, not just for her, or Nuuruhuine, but for the girls. They deserved better than
Silverthorn as a mother, someone who would love them and not abandon them. Her mother
seemed to be making a habit of leaving her daughters.
Pausing outside of the nursery, the brunette blew out a breath. So many things could go wrong,
but no one knew, and after all they were children. What possible trouble could they be? A smile
curved her lips as she opened the door and stepped inside.
Beth looked up as the door swung open, surprise entering her grey-green eyes at the sight of the
brunette. She was the last person the auburn-haired nursemaid had expected to see. "Dagar
Linnis. Can I help you?" she asked her softly.
Damn what the hell's she doing here, Linnis cursed inwardly as she managed to smile back at
Beth. "Well I thought I'd come and see my sisters as I'm here," she said trying to make it as
sincere as possible. "Dagar girls, and how are we?" the brunette asked them.
Drysi looked up from the book she held in her hands, her emerald eyes mildly wary as they
regarded her older sister. There was something in her tone... something she couldn't put her
finger on... Her gaze flicked nervously between the brunette and Beth as the dark-haired girl
leaned closer to Yseult and Muirne, waiting for one of the more extrovert girls to reply.
Muirne's eyes went from the book she had cradled in her lap to Linnis.
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"V'ran Duan Linnis and we're fine. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Dera Thorn
and Doro Ro?"
"Yes Linnis...what are you doing here?" A dangerous, throaty purr came from behind the halfelf...Mira Badb Catha was ever watchful of the last remaining thread that kept her tethered to
sane reality, and that thread happened to be Muirne.
“Dagar Dara Mira,” Yse said brightly, setting her book aside, “Did you come to read to us
Linnis?” The more vibrant of Y’Roden and Silverthorn’s twins was willing to give her eldest
sister the benefit of the doubt. She was, after all, a blood relative, which meant she couldn’t be
all-bad. Right? Sure she upset Ammah a little, but Addah was insistent on being patient with
her… even if he lost his cool every now and then too.
"I could ask you the same question, Mira," Linnis responded to the dragon-elf her eyes
narrowing slightly. She wasn't going to be put off by her aunt, especially as the half-elf was
older. "I'm allowed to see my sisters aren't I?" she asked innocently.
She turned back to the girls, "would you like me to read to you Yse, Drysi?" Linnis could
understand Mira being protective of her daughter, and she was glad she hadn't come for Muirne.
The brunette didn't have anything against Bran or his wife, even if Mira did have a problem with
her.
Jade eyes flicked into the room, "Dagar, Yse, Drysi, Beth..." Mira's voice dropped just out of the
hearing of the girls and Beth. "I can smell it on you...fear and something else. I don't know why
you are here, but know this. I. Will. Rip. You apart." Mira leaned, "and love every moment of it
if you touch my daughter or any child in this room in a way I don't like." Jade eyes sparked
bright as the coin of her blood settled on the Black side. "Am I understood?"
Blues eyes stared unflinchingly at Mira's, "I don't care what you smell, and I would never harm
them, ever." Then she added, "You could try..." This is all I bloody need, her poking her dragon
snout in.
"Ill’har? Mamma?"
The dragon-elf smiled brightly at Linnis, then settled on the floor with Muirne and the twins. "I
am here to read a book with my daughter and nieces, Linnis...why don't you join us and read to
us all?"
A smile curved Linnis' lips as she took a seat on the floor, "of course I will, any opportunity to
spend time with my family," giving Mira a very pointed look. "Now, what would you like to hear
hmm?"
Mira chuckled softly and returned the dark-haired woman's look, "I know! Lets hear about the
wolf in sheep’s clothing? I always liked that one. Especially the version where the big angry
dragon eats the wolf, wool and all." Mira slipped a protective arm around Muirne and drew the
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pale-haired dragon child into her lap, then reached for Yse and Drysi.
"Why don't you two sit with Muirne and me?"
A dark brow rose as Linnis eyed Mira, "I don't think I've heard that version, but I always
preferred George and the Dragon, especially when he slays the nasty arrogant beast."
Muirne had remained virtually silent during all this. The jade eyed Badb Catha girl narrowed her
eyes in anger and something else...hurt feelings.
"Well, that's just mean, Linnis!" The fair-haired child exclaimed, "How do you know that dragon
was nasty and arrogant? I bet it was that George fellow! And people say that about my Gran
Ill’harn all the time and, well...HE'S NOT. He just isn't. And Caolan is a dragon...I'm a
dragon...Do you think I'm nasty and...and..." Enormous tears threatened to spill over onto
Muirne's cheeks, much to Mira's alarm. Muirne was odd like that, seemingly so strong but in
truth kept herself protected with a thin veneer of...well...arrogance.
"Muirne?" Mira wrapped her arm around her daughter and shot Linnis a go to hell look over the
top of Muirne's head.
A discrete cough at the doorway caught Mira's attention and the dragon-elf released Linnis from
her sharp gaze and instead pinned the S'Hean Ranger who stood just outside the room.
"Lady Badb Catha? You are needed immediately in a private council. We have word of the
captives."
"Meghan?" Mira's eyes suddenly lit with hope as she squeezed Muirne tight. "Muirne, m'drago
na'dah? Wait there with Beth and the girls. I'll be right back."
Mira gently deposited Muirne on the floor next to Yse and Drysi and rose to leave the room
behind the S'Hean elf. As she brushed past Linnis, the dragon-elf sent the dark-haired woman
one final warning.
"Touch any one of them while I am gone...I will rip you apart and not your mother or even my
mate will be able to prevent it."
***
The last few hours before Zenith found Y’Roden’s army hurriedly seeing to the wounded and
clearing what they could of the dead. That last odious task was left mostly to the dragons who
could move a large number en-mass. The wounded Nuru’kh-ai were simply shovelled in with
their dead comrades, doomed to die a most unpleasant death in the searing heat of Whispin’s
dual suns. As the temperature raised the troops sought out the safety of shaded areas, the
respective leaders congregating at the Golden Griffin Inn.
The King of S’Hea was awake well before his wife and Zenith’s end found him in the taproom,
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enjoying a pint of ale with Darec Eris, the owner of the Inn. The fellow was relieved to have the
city back in the hands of the D’Riels, and made no secret of it. He had been one among the many
residents to take up arms and fight Tallin’s Nuru’kh-ai when Y’Roden’s army had breached the
gates. He had, in the past, entertained himself by refusing to call Ro anything but Your Highness,
which irritated the Prince of Corin to no end, and the fun was even greater now as he addressed
him as Your Majesty. The half-elf gave his old friend a pained look as he kicked his feet up on a
chair, grunting in half amusement.
“You really should get that looked at,” Darec suggested, pointed at Ro’s inflamed shoulder,
“Your Raven seems a tad on the bloody side.”
“Eh… it’ll heal,” the King muttered, “I have bigger things to worry about at the moment.”
“Ah yes, S’Hea will be all the greater for having a one armed King.”
“What? You have a problem with that? I don’t see Arketh complaining about having a one eyed
Lord.”
“Well, who is going to argue with that ugly mug,” Darec grinned, shooting a glance at Rhodry
who was nose deep in his tankard at the other end of the bar. He apparently wasn’t offended
enough to stop drinking, merely giving the barkeep the universal middle finger. “Oh… so
Lordly, so refined. Your people should be proud.”
Melaina wandered into the taproom, feeling somewhat rested, though her shoulder ached and she
was still pissed off. There was a still half full bottle of Jamison's in her hand, proving she hadn't
completely drank herself to sleep during the hottest hours. She found herself a seat next to
Y’Roden and glanced at him. "He's right, you should have that taken care of... You want me to
do it?" Her voice was quiet, showing none of the emotional turmoil going on inside her.
Still laughing at what passed for banter between Darec and Rhodry, Ro turned his head to look at
his niece, then focused on his shoulder. “Eh… well, all right. Gads, you would think I was an
invalid the way you all are going on.
“Shouldn’t you wash it down first?” Darec suggested.
Ro raised an eyebrow, then grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the counter and doused his right
shoulder. “Not like it’s my sword arm or anything.”
Melaina just looked at him. "Tallin took Mystical's collar off, Doro. We need everything we have
because it's not just the Orcs and Nuru’kh-ai we need to worry about... With her turning, I don't
think she'll hesitate about using her full powers. We need you to lead us, not to be lying sick on a
hospital bed from infection because you wouldn't let us heal a scratch..." She was totally serious
as she gently placed a hand on each side of the scabbed over scratch and let warmth flow from
her hands, knitting the skin back together again and making sure there was no infection or poison
in the wound.
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Ro chuckled softly and leaned forward, kissing Mel on the cheek, “You’re cute when you mother
hen,” he told her, then frowned. “He took her collar off? Oh… that is just lovely.”
“I don’t suppose you caught how he did it?” Reece inquired as he settled in at the bar,
“Summerlin would like to get the one on Si’Lyen off as soon as possible. Oh, ale, please.”
She smiled at Ro, not really responding to the mother hen comment. "Since he took it off and I
can only see through her eyes, and only for short periods of time, if even that now, I couldn't see
the way he did it. I know he moved something and poked at something with a small metal pin,
but I hightailed it out of her head when her powers started coming back. I wasn't about to give
her any way to trace me or any of the rest of us..." Her eyes were sombre. "I'm sorry I couldn't be
more help about those... Tell Dara Summerlin not to try anything hastily. I did hear it blow up as
I was leaving her mind..." Melaina sighed and reached for her bottle, downing a large swallow
quickly.
"I assume he collared all of them?" Silverthorn's voice was quiet as she joined her husband at the
bar. Jade green eyes looked over at Melaina.
“He must have,” Ro muttered, “There has been absolutely nothing on the Web from Si’Lyen or
my boys since the Castle was lost. The only thing that could be repressing them must be the
damn collars.” He did manage a smile for his wife though, his expression softening as he let his
gaze travel over Silverthorn’s form.
The dark-haired elf slipped her arm around her husband's waist. "We'll get them back,” she said
softly. "Whatever it takes." She leaned forward to brush a gentle kiss across his lips. " Usstan
ssinssrigg dos Chev. Don't lose heart just yet."
"Bria managed to escape it for a while, because she fought without magic... But the damned
guards saw her using magic to heal Ki, I'm not sure what had happened for him to need healing,
but she was collared shortly after that. She's found a way to get past it with Psi abilities, since
they aren't magical, but it drains her pretty badly without her magic to help it along..." Melaina
took another long drink from her bottle and looked up to her Dera and Doro.
Fadil slipped in quietly. He'd spent some time soaking the ruins of his leathers so he could peel
them out of the cuts he'd taken. He knew from experience not to give them time to stiffen. He
watched Melaina and Ro silently, trying to judge her strength. If he had to stuff her back through
a portal himself he would, but not unless it was absolutely necessary, and he didn't think it was.
And in any case, her courage had earned her the right to die in Ro's service. He'd prevent it
because of what it would do to Ro, not because he didn't think she was up to it.
Argent was softly chatting to Sahar as they joined the others in the inn, the Elven bear pulling his
long hair back into a rough low placed ponytail. Unconsciously, he stretched as soon as they
were inside, a slight groan escaping him.
“Old?”
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Gent sent the shadow woman a dirty look, “Sore, chaffed is more like it.”
Sahar cringed, “Too much information,” she replied before turning her attention to the fellow
behind the bar. “Water, the day is too hot for anything else.”
“Too long in the saddle will do that to you,” Valin chuckled as he came up behind Argent and
Sahar. The Prince’s mood had become a little brighter with the rescue of his sister. He had a
certain sense of accomplishment, and confidence in his ability to fight in this war. Sea green eyes
sparkled with amusement as he winked at the Shroudling King then took a seat next to Mel at the
bar. Being cut off from Anaya was taking its toll on the Elf, he was missing his wife badly… yet
at the same time, was secure in the knowledge that she and their unborn child were safe behind
the S’Hean wards.
The same thought was occurring to Culaelin in regards to his own wife and the Alcarin’s mood
was a little darker as he started off his after-zenith with good stout ale. “So… what now?”
Ro was in the midst of kissing Arianne at that moment, but somehow caught the question his
nephew posed. Emerald eyes met two pair of sea green as he peered around his wife and niece at
Valin and Cully. “Well, now… we need a sledgehammer and access to the wine cellar.”
“Pardon?” Darec interjected, “My wine cellar?” The owner of the Golden Griffin looked a little
worried, large dark eyes a little wide as he met the King’s gaze.
“Yes, your wine cellar. You don’t mind do you?”
“Oh… anything in service to the King,” the Barkeep said dryly.
Ro turned on his chair and focused on a certain S’Hean Ranger. “Fadil Elderig… as Twig’s
replacement, my new Captain… your first task… is to find us a brace of good sturdy sledge
hammers. We have an appointment with a wall in the basement.” Though his exterior mood was
light, the half-elf was internally dark and urgent. He had always been over protective of Ki... the
boy's entrance into the world had been difficult, a struggle to say the least. The thought of him
injured had Ro's Fatherly instincts fairly burning with outrage and worry.
Fadil fought down a quick grin. Now, this sounded like fun. "Yes, your Majesty. And... I would
think, we shall have to shift some wine out of the way as well?" His expression was mocksorrow, and it wasn't holding up too well. He bowed to Silverthorn. "I'll try not to let him smash
his thumbs too many times."
A quick enquiry to the innkeeper led him to a tool shed. While he rummaged through it for the
sledgehammers, his mind finally caught up with the field promotion he'd just received. When
everything was back to normal, then Ro could choose another captain who suited the job better.
In his heart he knew it wasn't going to happen, but he could kid himself.
He came back with two hammers, one significantly larger than the other. It was possible that he
was grinning as he offered Ro his choice of weapon.
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Melaina smiled, and moved her still sore shoulder. Glad as she was to see her family and loved
ones start trickling in, she was also watching for an opportunity. The half-elf was thinking about
taking a chance to slip away and go after the captives. After all, one person sneaking in wouldn't
be too hard... It would be sneaking everyone out that would be tricky. She took another long pull
from her bottle and thought.
Silverthorn eyed Fadil. She could see why he and her husband were such good friends. "If he
smashes his thumbs at all then you'll both regret it,” the dark-haired elf said, smiling sweetly at
the pair of rogues.
"What are you thinking?" Mak asked Melaina softly. Glory was beside him and they both looked
bloodied and exhausted, but both elves' eyes were glittering and alert.
"She's not thinking, she's plotting," Glory said, elbowing his younger brother and giving Melaina
a half smile.
“I’m perfectly capable of not smashing my thumbs,” Ro said indignantly, then shot a look at
Mel, “Yes… she is plotting… and if she doesn’t knock it off Miss Mel will find herself lashed to
a pole in the temple, if not indoctrinated into their service. NO sneaking off on your own
Melaina Alcarin, and that goes for you four as well,” he eyed the twins, Mak and Valin with a
meaningful look. “Now… give me that one,” he pointed at the larger of the two sledgehammers.
“Let’s go break down a wall. The four of you,” he pointed at the same group, “can help us move
the casks and rubble.”
Well of course a set of emerald eyes went large, as did a set of sea-green eyes. Both Mak and
Glory eyed each other, then their uncle and then stuck their tongues out at their sister. Despite
the hell of the past hours they found comfort in simple things -- like picking on Melaina.
"We're utterly innocent oh great and gracious Doro," Glory sent after Y'Roden. "But I'm afraid
that moving casks and rubble..." he looked toward his twin to finish the statement.
Fadil rolled his eyes. "We all knew you'd take the big one." Inwardly, he was wincing. He'd be
the one to drag Mel off to safekeeping, and he was quite sure it wouldn't be a pleasant job.
***
"Shadow." She said softly in response to An'Thaya before rolling her eyes at Callan's remark and
wandering away.
Yarwin shifted silently and stood behind Adarin. He'd made the flight as pleasant as possible but
was rather thankful when they came to a rest. Lapis eyes peered around at the bleak
surroundings, then went to Ghetsuhm.
"Ghet... I'm sorry... for so many things." Yarwin was only partially aware of her full talents, but
knew his own uncontrolled Rage had played a part in nearly breaking her and would be forever
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sorry for letting that part of his Blood get away from him.
Tay felt eyes on her, and turned just in time to catch Adarin's smile. Pulling the front of
Shadow's cloak a little tighter about her slight form she let her gaze linger on the Elen King's
eyes for a moment, her emerald green jewels darkening with thought as she plucked curiously at
the threads of gold that bound her to him. The memory wasn't there, but a ghost of emotion
remained that brought a soft smile to the Amazon's face. There was no doubt that she loved this
man... though that in itself was frightening.
Even more disturbing, was a deep sense of panic in the depths of her that spurred her to keep
moving, to find the owner of those sea green eyes that haunted her thoughts. Galain was in
trouble… he needed her… That was the single most important thing in her life, and it seemed…
he had been for a very long time. Tearing her gaze away from sparkling blue eyes, she drew a
deep breath. “We should get moving…time is important right?”
Without waiting for an answer she moved around the rocks, heading in the direction Agaru had
insisted on, and coming face to chest with the most hideous brute the redhead had ever had the
misfortune to lay eyes upon. Her memory may have been gone, but her instincts were still quite
on par. The hiss of metal drew a growl from the black skinned creature and Tay drew back a
step. What… in the name of Arminiea… is that?
Stop asking questions and kill it! He brought friends! Agaru snapped, already shaking the living
hell out of her bond to Callan. The bellow from the Nuru’kh-ai hardly made that necessary
however, and the Amazon nimbly leapt out of its way before burying a dagger in the Orc’s side.
Callan's head snapped around at screech of a blade being drawn and the feel of Agaru's halffrantic shouts to her skinwalker. The bondmark on his collar bone ignited with the alarm the
Crimson was feeling, without thought his wrist snapped a dagger into the air, driving it home in
the throat of a second Nuru seeking to flank the red-head and the Elen King. A second movement
had his crossbow free from his hip, a bolt locked in place and the sites levelled on the thermal
patterns of yet another. The bolt sang free as the trigger snicked back and slammed into the third
Nuru's temple.
"Yarwin Blackthorn! You want to prove yourself in battle? Get your ass up here!
"Goddess, isn't anything in this place easy?" Bran exclaimed. The axe he carried at his hip was
un-slung in one smooth movement that brought it down sharply in the chest of a Nuru’kh-ai. The
beast gurgled, blood pouring out of its mouth. The elf wrenched the blade free, crimson liquid
spewing from the hideous gash to pool on the ground as the black monster toppled and fell.
"Adarin! Look out! Behind you!"
“If it was easy, where would the fun be?” She asked, an impish gleam in her eyes. “Excuse me,
I’m going to go pick a dance partner now…” Shadow flashed a grin and headed into the melee,
fading as she went.
Adarin heeded Bran's warning and whirled around to face his own adversary, a flick of his wrist
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stunning the Orc before he dispatched it with his sword. It seemed he was gaining his head again
when it came to battle.
Ghet let out a small growl, unheard in the confusion, and drew her swords with a profound sense
of relief. Finally, she could do something. The activity, the need to concentrate on the physical,
cleared her mind. The worst that could happen was that she could die, and that didn't seem too
bad right now. She was barely strong enough to puncture their hides, but her quick slashes were
annoying, and they added up.
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Chapter 6
Ever sensitive to atmosphere, Drysi looked anxiously at the adults in the room, inching closer
towards her twin. Beth gave Linnis a look of quiet reprimand for having disturbed her charges in
this way. "Perhaps a lighter story would be in order under the circumstances?" she suggested
softly. The auburn-haired woman drew Muirne into her arms and hugged the little girl. "Would
you like to pick it?" she asked her quietly.
Yse gave her twin a reassuring smile and took Drysi’s hand in hers. She hadn’t missed the tone
of the banter between her Dera and sister, but things rolled off her back a little easier than her
twin's. Besides, Beth was here and Addah had promised that the wards would keep them safe.
Nothing bad could happen here, not like in Corin. S’Hea was an enchanted magical place.
Linnis' face was impassive as Mira brushed past her giving her that warning. Her blue gaze
shifted from the floor to look at the dragon-child. "I'm sorry if I upset you Muirne, I don't think
all dragons are like that, especially you and your brother." I'm so glad I don't have to take this
one; she could really be a pain in the arse.
Muirne's eyes glistened with tears and something else...fledgling Rage. Shaking, the child dug
into Beth's embrace then spat out, "I. Don't. Like. You." at Linnis. Something about Linnis
always made Muirne's skin crawl and Mira had taught her children to listen to that gut reaction.
It was seldom wrong.
“That isn’t very nice Muirne, Linnis apologized and everything” Yse said quietly, not willing to
believe any ill of her elder sister. Releasing Drysi’s hand she crawled into Linnis’ lap and smiled
up at her, “I’d like to hear a story now,” she told the dark haired woman, then laid her platinum
tressed head against Linnis’ shoulder.
"Why thank you Yse" Linnis said kissing the top of the little girl's head, encompassing her in her
arms. This was going to be more of a problem than she thought, both Beth and Muirne had to be
taken out of the picture before she could safely take the girls. As the brunette began to tell her
story certain words were woven into it, special magical words that would put the listener to
sleep. She did it carefully and slowly so no one would be suspicious. It was something she had
been told a long time ago, thinking it more of a novelty than actually being useful. A smile
curved her lips as she began to see the effects take hold.
Yse sighed sleepily and snuggled in to Linnis, completely unaware of the spell being woven,
letting herself drift into the sound of her sister’s voice.
Drysi snuggled up beside Beth, her dark head resting against the auburn-haired woman's
shoulder and her fingers curled around her cousin's. Her elder sister's voice was hypnotic,
dragging the little girl deeper into the warm cocoon she was creating.
Linnis stopped speaking, the spell complete. Things were now little simpler. Using her
inheritance, magical silver strands weaved from her fingers. Now that one problem was solved,
Linnis needed to create a reason for the twins to want to leave. She didn't want to deceive them,
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but it was for their own good. They'd thank her for it one day, getting them away from their
terrible mother.
There was a banging at the nursery door, the sound of grunts and snarls. A sound that only the
twins could hear. "Yse, Yse, wake up" Linnis gently shook the blonde girl. She would not wake
fully but be lucid enough to understand simple things. "We have to leave sweetheart, those nasty
Nuru’kh-ai are back."
Yse’s jade green eyes opened partially at first in a sleepy haze, then flared a bit more in fear.
Addah had said they would be safe here… she didn’t understand. “Where?” she asked in a
terrified little whisper, automatically reaching for the comfort of her twin, “Drysi! Drysi wake
up! Muirne! Beth!”
The nursemaid awoke with a start, surprised to find that she had almost fallen asleep. "Yse?
What is it?" she asked the platinum-haired girl.
"They're here. They've come back!" Drysi's fingers tightened around her twin's, the same
instinctive gesture Yseult had made. Emerald eyes stared wildly at the door. "We have to leave.
Please, Beth. We have to go. Can't you hear them?"
Beth looked at the little girl in puzzlement. "No, I can't hear anything? Linnis?" Her grey-green
eyes shifted to look at the only other adult in the room. Perhaps she knew what was upsetting the
twins so much.
Linnis did not say anything, just shrugging her shoulders. Damnit! Why did they have to wake
up? Gathering the twins to her she tried to soothe them, "it's ok, everything will be alright." It
was time to up the ante a little she decided. To the twins, and now Muirne too, the Nuru’kh-ai
broke through the solid wooden door with a crash. Half a dozen snarling, grotesque beasts ran in
and with their terrible weapons appeared to slay the nursemaid. She fell to the floor, her auburn
hair falling over her face.
"Beth!" Drysi's scream echoed around the room. Struggling, the little girl fought to get out of
Linnis' embrace in order to reach the woman who had always been there for them. She had
protected them, loved them, cared for them as if they were her own. "Let me go! Let me go!
Beth!"
***
"Lashing me to a pole in the temple won't do any good, Doro. It'll just mean one less resource
you have against Mystical and Tallin..." Her voice was soft. She had a feeling the only reason
she was exempted from moving casks was because of her shoulder. Her eyes met Glory's, her
determination clear. She would probably still find a way to get away and go after the captives...
Cully shot a look at Mel, then finished Glory’s sentence, “sounds like all too much fun.” He had
a feeling trying to get out of it was a bad idea. The young Elf had no desire to be lashed to a pole,
and he had every faith in Fadil’s ability to do it. Valin was already on the move, following Darec
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to the trap door that led to the cellars.
"No! That's not what you were supposed to say!" Glory protested to his twin. "Hello! You were
supposed to say that we're above some demeaning work. We're MEN!" He puffed up his chest
outrageously and clapped Mak hard on the back, sending the younger elf stumbling forward into
the wall.
"Whoops, sorry bro," Glory said, laughing. He was positively giddy after the adrenalin rush of
the battle.
Y’Roden suddenly looked very tired as he looked down at his niece, then turned to kiss his wife.
Keep an eye on her, he said silently; she is liable to do something stupid. Yona Elleska Dai
Vonna. Resting his sledgehammer over one shoulder the half-elf whistled a jaunty little tune and
followed his eldest son and the Inn Keep.
Silverthorn nodded, turning to look at Melaina. The dark-haired elf agreed with her husband's
assessment of the young woman's mood. "It seems our current role is to watch them go off to do
such manly activities as destroying walls" she said dryly, a hint of amusement playing around
her lips, "and of course laughing at them if something goes horribly wrong... which it probably
will."
Her mood turned more serious as she continued, "I can understand why you want to get into the
castle, but don't go off half-cocked. Please. We need your abilities, yes, but neither do I wish to
see my husband get killed trying to protect you... and he would. We both know that. I know his
over-protective streak can be damned annoying sometimes, but he does mean well nonetheless."
Fadil stared at Silverthorn indignantly. "Hey, when was the last time anything went... okay, when
was the last time we tried to demolish a wall under an inn with sledgehammers and something
went wrong? Hmm? So little faith!" He winked at Glory. "Come on, let's go be manly men and
do manly things. If you're very good I'll let you have a go with the hammer." Yes, this would
probably be a good time to get the f'nark out of there...
"I know he would, and that's the only reason I'm still sitting here. Silverthorn, I know I can get
in, and I know I can at least get some of them free before Tallin could catch me, if he could catch
me..." She took a long pull from the bottle, realized it was empty and thought about throwing it
against a wall before she banged it down on the bar. "I hate doing nothing. I feel helpless..." And
that's when the suppressed tears started...
Silverthorn's jade gaze went to the door out of which all the men had just exited, a tinge of panic
in her gaze. Great. Just great. She didn't deal with emotional. Ro knew that, damn him. Then she
sighed and put her arms around Melaina, hugging her tightly. "I know,” she said softly. "Do you
think we don't all feel that way too? Gods, my daughter's in there... I keep trying not to think too
much about what might be happening with Fechine. I'm sorry, Mel..."
Y’Roden set down his sledgehammer and gave Darec a hand sliding a heavy casket off of the
trap door. It seemed the fellow didn’t trust people here abouts to stay out of his cellar. The burly
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innkeeper grabbed the iron ring and pulled the door up, resting it against the wall. “There you go
yer Highness, it’s all yours… try not to break too much of my inventory.” The half-elf chuckled
started down the ladder, “Cully, you want to hand me my sledge hammer? Carefully…”
His boots kicked up a small cloud of dust as the S’Hean King landed on the hard packed earth
floor. “You may want to bring Reece,” he said to whomever was coming down the ladder after
him, “It has been several thousand years… I can’t remember exactly where the tunnel was…”
“I brought myself,” the SandShadow answered, nearly startling Ro out of his skin.
“DON’T do that, Gods. Well, good, start poking about and we’ll get ready to shift stuff.”
Cully was snickering softly as he followed his Doro Reece down the ladder, sea green eyes
sparkling with mirth by the time he joined the other two men in the cellar.
Glory bumped into Cully and Mak bumped into Glory and for a moment there was a scuffling in
the dark as all three wrestled with each other and then Glory thwokked his laughing twin upside
the head.
"Are we all here? Where are we? There's a tunnel? What am I stepping on?" This all emanated
from Glory as he stepped into something soft and squishy.
Fadil had been more than happy to get out of the taproom before things got all emotional. And he
was in a relatively good mood, so he didn't smack the boys' heads together. Let them have a
minute to play. "I think it was a rat. Once. A long time ago."
Y’Roden’s laughter filled the darkness and a spark of light followed it in the form of a ball of
handfire. “Let there be light. Reece? Where did you go?”
“I’m over here.” The Mercenary’s head poked out of a wall and he grinned at the others, “I found
the tunnel, it’s just here.” He gestured with his head to a spot just beside him; “You will have to
move all these casks first though.”
“Right… boys, you heard the man. Start lugging.”
Cully eyed the heavy barrels and crates filled with bottles and sighed before exchanging a look
with Glory… who had indeed stepped on the corpse of a dead rat. “Scrape off your shoe and give
me a hand here.”
Glory shuddered and scraped his boot with gusto before he pushed Mak forward.
"You know, a telltale sign of a born leader is the ability to delegate," he drawled. "So Mak, I
need you to help Cully there with the moving of that cask. I'll make sure you guys don't get
squashed."
Apparently it was the looks in both of his brother’s eyes that had him suddenly hefting with them
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too. The promise of future retribution was a good reason incentive for suddenly getting down to
business.
Y’Roden, meanwhile, had found a few bottles of cherry brandy. Handing one to Fadil he opened
the other and leaned back against the wall to watch as his nephew’s and son cleared the way.
“I’m not quite sure this is proper behaviour for the King of Corin,” Valin muttered, grunting
under the strain as he moved a large wine cask.
Fadil took the bottle with a nod of thanks and leaned back against a large barrel. "Now, now.
Hard labour is good for the spirit. It brings you closer to the ordinary people in your kingdom.
We'd help, but even your father and I couldn't empty all those barrels between us."
Y’Roden eyed the patch of wall Reece had marked out rather dubiously, it just didn’t feel right…
but then, his memories from that period of time were… murky… at best. “Alright, give me a
little space,” he said to Cully, “it takes a bit of a whack to get through stone.”
Hefting his hammer the King swung at the wall, sending shards of stone and mortar flying across
the cellar. Humming to himself he settled into the rhythm of it, slowly smashing his way through
the thick barrier that had been erected over the tunnel. So many years had passed since it had
been boarded up that there was no discernable difference between this wall and the others, but
there was no arguing with a SandShadow.
Eventually, he broke through in one small spot and the head of the hammer glanced off what
seemed to be open-air… aside form the brief spark and shimmer of magic. They had definitely
found the warded tunnel.
Glistening with sweat he stepped back and eyed the wall, wiping at his forehead before reaching
for his bottle of brandy and taking a sip. “Alright Fadil, your turn to take a crack at it…”
Fadil snorted. "Oh, sure, and now you're going say, but I loosened it for you. And you're so much
fun to watch working. It's the rarity, I guess." Giving his king as wide a berth as he could given
the surroundings, he headed for the wall. It was quite nice, actually, to hit something that wasn't
trying to kill him. You just set your shoulder down and swung through the wall. Curiosity wasn't
getting him anywhere; it was pitch black on the other side even to his eyes. And... "How long's
this been sealed up? 'Cause I swear something died in there."
“I'm going to ignore that first comment. Three thousand years… give or take a century,” Ro
answered, watching as the hole grew larger. “That stone was dug up in Tenobrous. Amazing
what people will do to keep me out of someplace they don’t think I should be. Come to think of
it… several things did die in there… and from the haste this place was sealed up in, they are
probably still in there.”
“Oh… nice,” Cully muttered from the cask he was perched atop. “And considering that type of
ward vacuum seals… they are likely looking nice and gooey fresh.”
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“Precisely,” Ro chuckled, “try not to scream too much like a girl, ok?"
The King and his Captain switched back and forth several times before the opening was almost
completely revealed. Ro paused for a moment, leaning on the handle of his hammer as he looked
over his shoulder.
"Reece, can you go up and fetch my wife please? Stay up there and keep an eye on Melaina
while you are at it. Someone has too.”
“When did I become the local babysitter?”
“Since you started looking after my sister about three thousand six hundred years ago or so.”
“Point taken.”
The SandShadow gripped the sides of the ladder and started on up, the clunk of his boots on the
floorboards above shaking dust and dirt loose from the cellar rafters.
***
Linnis let the girls go to the stricken nursemaid. Now that they thought she was dead she could
deal with the real Beth. Drawing a knife she grabbed hold of the woman from behind, pressing
the blade to her neck. "I do not want to hurt you, but I will if you give me any trouble. Is that
understood?" the brunette asked in a cool tone.
The nursemaid froze as the cool metal pressed against her skin. "What the hell do you think you
are doing?" she hissed. "They're just children. They're your sisters and cousin for gods’ sake.
Haven't they been through enough recently?" Without warning she drove her elbow hard into the
other woman's abdomen.
"That's right they're my sisters, and they deserve better than this" Linnis said before grunting as
the elbow hit her. Instinctively she grabbed on to that arm yanking behind the auburn woman's
back in what she knew was a painful position. "I will slit your throat Beth if I have to. I do not
want to. What you have to ask yourself is, do you want to die over this? I AM taking them and
you cannot stop me. I intend them no harm, they will be safe with me." Linnis' voice was hard at
first but had gone to a softer tone.
"I would die to keep them safe, and I do not think they would be safe with you" the auburnhaired woman retorted, struggling despite the pain that was shooting through her shoulder. "You
would take them away from everyone who loves them and still claim that you mean them no
harm? What sort of fool do you think I am?" She dragged her heel down Linnis' leg, digging her
heel into the top of the brunette's foot as she threw herself forward in an attempt to wrench
herself free.
"Run!" she called to the girls. "Go! You can't trust her!"
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The pain in her foot made Linnis double over and Beth's forward movement made her let the
nursemaid go, but not before the blade had made a parting slice across her throat and dislocating
her arm. "They cannot hear you Beth, they think you're dead. And let's be honest what really
awaits them here. How long do you think before Silverthorn abandons them like she did with her
other daughters? She'll manipulate Ro into getting rid of them." Linnis advanced on the other
woman, at this rate she was going to have to take drastic measures.
Yse grabbed hold of Drysi’s arm and dragged her away from Beth’s body, the young girl was
panicked, but well aware of the danger Nuru’kh-ai posed. “Help me with Muirne,” she gasped to
her twin, “we have to get out of here.” The young Dragon-Elf had not awakened with the others
and still lay sleeping on the floor.
The dark-haired little girl dragged her emerald gaze away from the body of their nursemaid. She
nodded, blinking away the tears that hung from her lashes. "I'll help." Drysi tugged at her
cousin's arms, hauling her to her feet, but then staggering beneath her weight.
"You don't know what you're talking about" Beth spat, cradling her injured arm to her chest. Pain
etched lines around her mouth but she was unbowed. "The Queen loves her children. I don't
know what problems the two of you have, but don't project your trauma onto someone else."
Now Linnis was getting angry but she remembered what Nuuruhuine had said that no one would
understand. "She does not love her children, she has blinded everyone, but I see the truth" and
struck the nursemaid hard across the temple with the hilt of the dagger. The auburn-haired
woman fell to the floor unconscious. A grunt of satisfaction escaped from her lips. "Persistent
little bitch, pity she couldn't see just how wrong she was."
"Girls" Linnis said urgently, "we have to go, I know a way out but I need your help" she pleaded.
Yse looked up from where she was partially supporting Muirne’s weight, her jade green eyes
reddened by tears and stark terror written plainly on her face. Completely unaware of the reality
that had just played out before her eyes she nodded, “We will help, won’t we Drysi?… Why
won’t Muirne wake up?”
"She's not dead too, is she? She can't be dead too. The Nuru’kh-ai didn't touch her." Drysi
hugged Muirne to her in fear.
How Linnis wished this could've been easier, she hadn't wanted to cause them so much distress,
and now it looked like they'd be taking Muirne too. Well maybe away from the influence of that
bitch of a mother the dragon-elf might actually be more reasonable.
"I'm sure she'll be alright, look she still draws breath. Now I can portal us out of here but I need
one of you to open the wards so that we can escape. Do you think you can do that?" she asked
them. Meanwhile the imaginary Nuru’kh-ai began to advance toward the group.
The faired haired girl nodded mutely and exchanged a look with her twin over Muirne’s head.
Yse would do it… they would go with Linnis, and they would be safe. Perhaps she was taking
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them to Addah and Ammah?
Fumbling with her connection to the land the little girl wrestled with the wards, something she
had never attempted before. It was fear that gave her the key, bolstered by an inner strength
gifted to her by both parents. S’Hea resisted, but Yse won, “Ok Linnis… they are open.”
"Well done Yse" Linnis praised the little blonde girl. Concentrating on her own magic the
brunette opened a portal to where Nuuruhuine had said to meet them. A shimmering silver void
appeared. "Quickly girls" she encouraged them by herding them through the portal. As it closed
behind the small group the Nuru’kh-ai disappeared, the only person left in the room was an
unconscious auburn-haired form.
***
B’Elya woke with a start, a lance of fear dragging down her spine in painful awakening. The tiny
redhead pushed a handful of red curls out of her face and stared blearily at the wall for a
moment. She had slept late, having been up through half the heat of Zenith watching over her
Ammah. Turning her head towards the bed where her mother lay she was greeted with the sight
of the Queen Mother fairly flying out of the bed.
“Ammah? What is it?” Sliding bare feet onto the carpeted floor the half-elf followed after the
chestnut haired S’Hean woman, half-running to keep up.
“It’s the girls,” Se’Liene called over her shoulder, “that had to be more than a nightmare.”
“Girls? Van and Mena?”
That question was answered shortly when the two mentioned Alcarin’s came bursting out of their
room, apparently awakened by the Web as well.
“Yse and Drysi…” Se’Liene suddenly stopped, leaning heavily on the wall and gasping for
breath. “Go ahead, Vanya, stay here with me… Mena… Belle… go see what is wrong.”
The redhead exchanged a look with her nieces, but didn’t question. Heading for the stairs the two
bolted up them in unison, leaving Vanya to wrap an arm around Se’Liene and steady her.
Hitting the top floor the pair rounded the corner at a dead run and burst through the nursery door.
“Beth!” Mena dropped to her knees next to the auburn haired Nursemaid and gently turned her
over. “Oh thanks gods… she is till breathing… but where are the girls?” Anxiety twisted her gut
over the welfare of her cousins… and her siblings. As far as she knew, Eos, the Quads and the
twins had been in here as well.
“There are the remains of a portal over here,” Belle said softly, “but I don’t recognize the
magic… it isn’t S’Hean.”
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Amilyn had heard the screams as well and came out; tear streaks down her cheeks from crying
herself to sleep. Her entire world had just crashed around her head. She couldn't feel her Ammah
and her mother had embraced the darkness. But she reached out and felt Melaina touching her
spirit, and Conlan as well. For them she would be strong. She stopped beside Vanya and
Se'Liene. "Grand-Ammah, what's happened? Can I help?"
A low groan came from the nursemaid, eyelashes fluttering against her pale cheeks. "What
happened?" she murmured dazedly, grey-green eyes opening to regard the blonde elf who held
her with some confusion. Then it all came rushing back and Beth went rigid. "Sweet Arminiea!
The girls! She took them!"
Jaiden heard this last exclamation just as she and the children she shared with An'Thaya arrived
on the scene. They had awakened earlier than the others and had gone down into the garden to
play and swim a little. The Windling gazed around the nursery, smelling treachery and trickery
in the air here and spoke aloud in a soft tone.
"Who took them?"
"Linnis. She created some sort of illusion. They couldn't hear me or see me." Beth ran an agitated
hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers passed over the wound on her scalp and bringing
her hand away to reveal crimson blood staining her fingertips. "She kept saying that it was for
their own good. She blamed M'Lady Silverthorn, said she would neglect them." Suddenly the
auburn-haired woman felt very ill. The pains that shot through her head and dislocated shoulder
were nothing compared to the ache in her heart, however.
"But Dera would never..." Amilyn looked up at Se'Liene and over to Beth and Jaiden and then
back up at her grandmother. "Someone's going to need to go to Corin, and tell Dera and Doro..."
Amilyn was holding tightly to the threads that bound her to Mel and Conlan, as well as to the
D’Riel web. She was almost totally drained of emotion, other than fear.
Se’Liene was slightly out of breath from the climb up the stairs and she looked fairly close to
tears. “Jaiden dear, would you check on Elerina and Melian? They went down late and they are
still on the Web, they must have slept through things. Mena, go find Mira please. Vanyalin, see
to Beth’s wounds.” Pausing for breath she wiped at her eyes and brushed a lock of silvered hair
away from her face, “Belle… you are going to have to be the one to go tell Y’Roden.”
The two Alcarin girls moved to do as bidden, Mena slipping out the door, and Vanyalin taking
her place with Beth.
Amilyn stepped closer to her grandmother, an unconscious move on her part. Some of the
strength the youngest Bellator child didn't know she had found her and she reached up to take the
older woman's hand, trying to pass that strength through to the Queen. "Grand-Ammah, are you
alright?" None of them were really all right, Amilyn knew this, and she knew they wouldn't be
until they'd brought back the boys from Tenobrous, and found the girls and Linnis... And even
then, nothing would ever be all right again really...
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***
“Gods,” Tay growled at a beast that had ducked in low, “you reek.” The thing bellowed in
response, blowing her hair back like a bright crimson banner. The Amazon scrunched up her face
and nearly gagged, then drove the point of a dagger through its un-armoured throat. The result
was a spray of blood that caught her full in the face as the Nuru’Kh-ai’s yell was cut off in a
death gurgle. “Oh… agh… that is just… wrong,” she bitched, wiping at her face whilst booting
her victim in his, removing his flesh from the blade. A second dagger launched through the air,
catching another of the hulking critters under the armpit before he could complete an overhand
strike at her head.
The smell and look of the things was disturbingly familiar, and as she fought flashes of memory
fired in her mind, distracting and throwing the Amazon off balance. The face of a man with long
black hair and ice blue eyes haunted her thoughts… blood… always blood… and pain. Halfsnarling the elf shook her head to clear it and danced aside as axe whistled by one delicately
pointed ear.
Adarin blocked the flight of the axe and took just enough time to raise an eyebrow at Tay. Later
he might find her grousing amusing, but right now... he simply had no time to speak. Instead he
moved quickly to back up Bran, finding it infinitely satisfying to simply cleft one Nuru’Kh-ai’s
head in half before felling another with a stunning spell and then driving his sword home. He
wasn't particularly worried about honour. He just wanted everyone to survive this latest
challenge.
The tips of twin daggers protruded from one of the beast’s chest, followed by more as they were
plunged through the skin from the inside out. Shadow twisted the daggers so that the blades that
covered the back of her hands helped as she ripped her way out of the beast, leaving him in
shreds before she continued on to the next one.
Bran and Adarin fought back to back, protecting each other as their blades sliced into one
Nuru’kh-ai after another. "There are definitely days that aren't worth getting out of bed for," the
Tauremornan grunted as his axe bit into yet one more black-skinned monster. Sweat stung as it
dripped into his eyes, his long hair sticking to the back of his neck. It did seem though that they
were gaining ground. There didn't seem to be quite so many of the beasts still running around,
and more and more of them cluttered up the ground.
Adarin could only grin fiercely. He was tired, aware of a number of cuts and minor wounds on
his body and he was really growing to hate this whole 'adventure'. But at the core of his being
was the reminder that they were here to rescue innocent children.
If they could find their way out of this latest nest of Nuru’kh-ai. He didn't foresee any chance to
rest and he forced himself to continue to fight off whatever landed within his sword's reach.
Yarwin had fought his way forward, and while still wanting to stick a blade in Callan's back,
decided the immediate threat was more important than tying into his sire again. Rage filled eyes
glowed in the darkness as the shape-shifter's form began to melt and change, and in his place was
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a massive, winged canine-like creature that stood nearly 12 foot at the shoulder. Its hindquarters
seemed ridiculously small compared to the grotesque amount of muscle that powered its upper
body as huge paws slapped more of the abominations aside with a satisfying crunch of bones.
Monstrous jaws snapped Nuru’kh-ai spines, ripped heads from their moorings while a serpentine
tail lashed out, its blade-covered end slicing Nuru in half.
Callan spared his son-turned-hell hound a quick glance before swinging his Claymore with one
hand while the air around the other began to dance with shimmering waves of heat. Blue-white
flame lanced out and struck home, turned one, then another Nuru to ash and soot. More fire
lashed out, fuelled by Rage and frustration, the Black Dragon Emperor had had enough of
playing. "To hell with all this..." he grated out. They were growing tired, the Nuru’kh-ai too great
in number to be defeated easily...they simply kept coming, though indeed, it seemed in fewer
numbers. With a grunt of anger, Callan launched into a sprint, cast his Claymore at the chest of
an Uruk and skewered it...as well as its friend behind him. His next two steps had him shifted to
full Black. Fire licked from his enormous jaws as talon and tail ripped Nuru’kh-ai to shreds and
set them ablaze.
Rock slid beneath An’Thaya’s boot as the Amazon stumbled up the side of an incline, two of the
Nuru’kh-ai hot on her heels and she nearly went down at the top. For a moment, Tay thought she
was seeing things, a trick of the mind as she whirled to face her opponents.
A Nuru’kh-ai encampment… hundreds of the beasts and all alerted to the presence of prey. The
group was in far more trouble than they could handle, Dragon’s or not. “Holy Mother Arminiea,”
she hissed, remembering to duck just in time to avoid having her head removed from her
shoulders. “We are going to have to fly out of here.”
I don’t think I can make it far, Agaru muttered, if you would let me out more often, we wouldn’t
be having this problem.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Tay snapped back as she skewered one of her
attackers, "but you have no choice, it's that, or die here.”
***
When Galain awakened he was conscious of just a few things. He felt no pain, he was not in the
dungeon and he could barely access the bonds to his wives. Not all of this hit him at once and it
came to him slowly as he simply lay still. Something kept tickling and teasing at his mind and
the harder he tried to latch onto it, the more elusive it became. After too many minutes of chasing
whatever it was that plagued his mind the elf sat up, irritable and frustrated. His vision swam and
the room seemed to spin around before he grabbed his temples and stared at his surroundings.
He was definitely not in the dungeon anymore. He was relieved by that particular fact, the
memory of the pain endured in that foul place still fresh in his thoughts. But where was he now?
He slid off the bed, staggering a little as he did so. He was undressed, but clean clothes were
draped over a chair. His lips curled as his fingers brushed over the fabric. He was quite aware of
where he was and he was loath to don anything given to him by Samara. He concentrated a
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moment, feeling dizzy again as he wove together the energy needed to perform what he needed.
He could feel the taint in the air and shuddered. Summoning his magic was harder than it should
have been, but he sighed with satisfaction when he found himself clothed. He felt stronger
somehow, shielded even, by wearing something familiar.
At the same time he was bothered. He felt like parts of his mind were blocked and when he
thought to open a portal absolutely nothing happened. He concentrated for all he was worth on
the space before him and was rewarded with a splitting headache rather than the hoped for slit of
gold that would have taken him out of this place.
Well, that meant some of the pain was back then, Galain thought wryly and he focused now on
the room. It was surprisingly comfortable if not a little small, but considering he was its lone
occupant that was hardly important. The atmosphere felt dark and oppressive despite the lit
hearth and the presence of several oil lights and candles. Galain had a feeling if he remained here
long he'd go stark, raving mad.
And then that elusive little something brushed against his mind again and he felt restless, like he
really needed to be doing something. The elf stalked across the room and ripped open the
curtains that covered the window. He stared through the whorls in the glass and muttered with
disgust and no small amount of dismay as his eyes were greeted with the dark murk of
Tenobrous. It was punctured here and there with torchlight and it was that light that cast its
meagreness upon Nuru’kh-ai -- roiling masses of them that left the Elen prince shuddering and
pushing the curtains back into place.
Gods. Why was he still being held here? Why hadn't Samara simply summarily killed him?
Flashes of memory tried to claw their way through the pain of his headache, but he couldn't quite
catch their meaning. He stood still, staring sightlessly into the flames in the fireplace and
resolved upon one thing. He would find the boys. He remembered seeing Fechine. That meant he
and the others...Rhagi and the others... they were here. For all he knew they were in a room next
door. That heartened Galain and he told himself to pull it together. He'd just see if that door there
was unlocked. And if it was, he'd take himself on a self-guided tour of this place. Hopefully he
wouldn't get lost.
He froze though as a something filmy suddenly floated out of the wall opposite him. The elf
started, agape, as he realized it was a wraith. It hovered for a moment, sprouted two legs, a torso
and a face that resembled Y'Roden.
"Boo!" Galain yelled at it. He was rewarded with a surprised look from the wraith before it
suddenly exploded into a greyish blob and seeped upward through the ceiling. The elf shook his
head. It seemed wraiths knew no bounds around here. He just hoped he didn't wake up to find a
parade of them trouping through his room at night.
He sat down a moment on the bed and gathered himself together. If he was going to try and find
the boys he would have to approach things logically and sensibly. That simply made his head
hurt worse and he ground out a curse.
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***
Reece was slapping dust out of his clothing when he re-entered the taproom and he paused once
to sneeze, looking rather startled about it.
“Your Majesty,” he managed finally, “the King requests your presence in the cellar.” A grin
crossed his face at the last second when it struck the Mercenary just how ridiculous that phrase
seemed. “The wall is almost down.”
"How nice," Silverthorn said sardonically. She hugged Melaina one last time and then stepped
back. "Somehow it will work itself out. We have to believe that," she said softly to the half-elf
before turning back to Reece. "Okay, I'm on my way. Just one thing though. Call me 'your
majesty' again and you'll get to discover what your insides look like from the outside." She
smiled sweetly at the SandShadow and headed towards the stairs.
"Been making a mess, love?" the dark-haired elf said dryly as she entered the cellar. "Why
doesn't that fact surprise me somehow?"
A spray of rock flew up as Y’Roden completed one last swing, then turned around to grin at his
wife, “A fine mess at that, but look my love, we’ve actually accomplished something.” The King
beamed proudly and winked at the boys standing near the Queen. “Did you threaten Reece with
bodily harm? He likes that you know.”
"Of course I threatened him. I'll break people of calling me 'my lady' or 'your majesty' if it kills
me," Silverthorn retorted dryly. She walked over to join her husband, stepping carefully around
the strewn rubble, and kissed him. "A sense of accomplishment is always a good thing though."
Jade green eyes peered into the darkness. "Gods! It stinks."
“Hey! I bathed after Zenith! Oh… you mean that, yes, it does. Glory; go ask Darec to open the
windows up there. By the time we get the wards down, we will all be in need of some fresh air.”
Glory nodded and trotted off, quite glad to be away from the reek.
Handing the sledgehammer off to Fadil the half-elf eyed the warded tunnel and stepped back.
“All I can do is magnify your magic,” he said to Arianne, “it … well, it knows me, it was made
to keep me out. We should be ok as long as I don’t try to tackle it directly.”
A mischievous smile curved his wife's lips. "Now would I ever say that you stink?" she teased.
Her hands slid up his chest as she leaned forward to kiss him again, this time more lingeringly. "I
love the way you smell." Silver tendrils twined with emerald, sliding against them and around
them. Deep within their depths sparkled the light that was their son and a sense of warmth
flooded Silverthorn's soul. Family. Something she'd longed for so long and now had in
abundance. "Trust Me," she murmured, "I would never let anything happen to you." The silver
mist of her magic bloomed around her fingers where they rested against his skin.
Y’Roden, for a moment, was extremely distracted. His world and soul was filled with the sights
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and sounds of Silverthorn D’Riel and the cellar faded briefly into the background. “That works
both ways….” Emerald eyes slid shut, and the conduit within the whirling galaxy of his spirit
yawned open, drinking in the silvery cloud of magic until both elves radiated a soft silver light.
Yona Elleska Dai.
Usstan ssinssrigg dos. The words whispered softly along their bond as his wife let her eyes
closing, let the silver cloud drift away into the looming darkness. The hole was illuminated by
the delicate glow as tendrils spread out over the entrance, touching and seeking. She could sense
the wards now, like a heavy weight against her skin. Cobweb-fine threads of silver twisted
against them, seeking the key to unlocking them.
Ro watched as if from a distance, his vision now on the Aethyr among the shifting eddies of
magic. There… a pattern of runes… try… simultaneously… the rune of light… and the rune of
fire. The wards had been created by Derwin and Se’Liene… Fire and Light, it made the most
sense.
Silverthorn nodded absently, her concentration firmly fixed on what she was doing. Silver
tendrils stretched outwards towards the symbols etched in green amidst the wards. Fire and
Light... Neither existing without the other. A dull click echoed around the cellar as the runes
were depressed.
There was silence for the space of two heartbeats, an absence of sound in which Y’Roden
thought he must have been mistaken. His soul knew, before he did, and it enveloped
Silverthorn’s pulsing silver spirit as the Aethyr suddenly expanded, then snapped into a sucking
vortex at the core of the warded tunnel. A rumbling sound came from within and the King
grabbed his wife around the waist. He whipped Silverthorn around, shoving the dark haired elf
down and shielding her with his own body even as he yelled to the others to take cover.
For a moment, everything in the cellar seemed to gravitate towards the tunnel; caskets, two
startled siblings and a cousin who hadn’t reacted in time. Then there was a shift in the magic, and
everything exploded outwards, slamming Cully, Mak and Valin off the walls amidst a rain of
wood, bottles, shattered glass, a stray sledgehammer and one very dead rat.
In the quiet that followed several elves wondered inanely if they were deaf, and the answer came
with the sound of Y’Roden’s voice as he lifted his head out of Silverthorn’s hair. “Is everyone
alright?” followed quickly by; “Oh shit… Darec is NOT going to be happy.”
Cully stared out ahead of himself for a moment, then turned to look at his little brother, “Do you
think that was suppose to happen? Did he look like he was expecting that? I don’t think he was.”
Mak just stared back at his brother who was wearing a very odd wig. No... wait... it was the dead
rat. The younger elf didn't mention it and just shook his head.
"As far as I could see he and Her Majesty desperately needed a room there for a moment. And
judging by his language... nope, he didn't expect that." Suddenly Mak grinned. "That was pretty
fun though. Got any cracked ribs?"
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At that moment Glory came running back and just skidded to a halt, aghast.
"Gods!" he exclaimed, surprise and more than a little admiration tingeing his tone.
Fadil snickered. He was actually damn impressed, but he wasn't letting on. "It's a D'Riel thing,"
he said, getting up and brushing off his pants. "If you haven't made a bloody great mess, you
haven't really achieved anything. Gods. I hope no-one just ate anything greasy."
***
Mena’s strawberry blonde hair flew out behind her like a bright banner as she ran down the hall
that led to the council chamber. A few of the Lords and Mira were already gathered there,
awaiting the presence of the Queen and B’Elya who had slept late. They had been called together
when news of Si’Lyen’s rescue had been released. “Lady Badb Catha,” the young Alcarin
gasped out, “we need you in the nursery. Linnis has taken three of the children.”
Mira's head slowly turned at the sound of Mena's voice, disbelief warring with open,
uncontrolled pure black Rage.
"She. Did. What?" Mira's teeth clenched tight enough to turn the skin of her jaws white while her
left hand went to the hilt of a dagger that had been left in her chambers.
Her feet were already carrying her toward Mena, her body beginning to tremble. DAMN that
woman! Mira could not have made herself anymore clear in what she would do to Linnis, child
of Silverthorn or not if something happened to the girls. Her life was now forfeit; Muirne had
been the last thread tethering the dragon-elf to sanity and balance. Shifting shadows of Black
began to eclipse Silver, Elven Jade and even the slim strands of Steel and verdant green.
"Where are they?" Mira growled out, "I sincerely hope for Linnis's sake, she has only taken them
to the potty..."
Mena, daughter of An’Thaya D’Riel Alcarin or not, took a step back in the face of Mira’s anger.
“We don’t know,” she said honestly, turning to lead the way back up the many stairs to the
nursery, “Belle said there were remains of a portal, but the magic wasn’t S’Hean so she couldn’t
tell where it went.”
"Belle is there now?" The dragon-elf snarled softly as she strode past Mena and down the
corridors to the nursery, her fingers curled into tight fists, her nails cutting through the skin of
her palm and drawing blood. It took little time for Mira to arrive at the nursery and was certain
she heard Mena's hurried footsteps behind her as she bolted through the hallways and into the
nursery, half-expecting to see the children back and Linnis with a smug grin on her face...and
was both horribly disappointed and halfway satisfied to see she'd been wrong.
"That half-wit!" Mira growled out and gazed around the nursery. "When I find her...so help me
there will not be enough ash left to scatter at her memorial service."
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By the time Mira arrived B’Elya was already gone and Se’Liene was seated in a chair near the
window. Vanyalin had helped Beth to a divan after healing the worst of her injuries, and all eyes
turned to the dragon elf when she made her entrance.
“I have sent Belle to Y’Roden and Silverthorn,” the Queen Mother said softly, “Arianne should
be able to track her daughters magic. We will get them back… I’m sure Linnis hasn’t taken them
far.” Or rather… she hoped.
Mira's eyes drifted shut, her soul yawned open and black threads sought the jade and dark Silver,
near black of her daughter. Already, the bond that tied mother to child was thinning, dwindling,
but not before Mira's eyes fell on a sight she'd only seen through Bran's memories....
"Elemmiire...that BITCH, she's taken them to Elemmiire..." The dragon-elf's tanned skin went
unusually white as she turned on her heel and left the nursery.
"I'll be in our chambers. Mena..." Mira's voice softened some as she looked over her shoulder at
the strawberry blonde, "When Silverthorn arrives, come get me. I need to change clothes...white
linen won't do for a slow killing...blood and all that..." Suddenly smiling merrily, Mira walked
slowly down the corridors, whistling as she went.
It didn’t take much for Belle to track down her brother and his wife; it was simply a matter of
following the Web to her Patriarch. The stench when she entered the Golden Griffin Inn was a
little much and the tiny redhead eyed Darec for a moment in disbelief. The large man shrugged
helplessly and gestured towards the back, which didn’t really tell the Princess anything at all.
“I need to speak with the King straight away,” she addressed those gathered at the bar, “It is
extremely important.”
Reece, who had managed to down a few ales by this point, stood up and bowed slightly at the
waist. “He is in the cellar Your Highness, I’ll go fetch him out for you.”
Belle didn’t bat an eye when the SandShadow simply sank through the floor; she was use to such
behaviour after spending so much time with Argent. Her gaze lingered on the Shroudling King
for a moment, then flickered to the open window.
Cully, on the other hand, still had a slight problem with people walking through walls, or ceilings
as it were, and he gave a slight squeak of surprise as Reece’s boots swung past his head. The rat,
which had been settled in his hair, fell off at about that moment, and he simply wilted.
“Your Majesties,” the Mercenary addressed the pair after shooting an amused look at the young
Alcarin, “Princess B’Elya is in the taproom and wishes to speak with you. It seems to be quite
important.”
Melaina simply looked at Belle, knowing immediately that something was wrong. Her mind
immediately reached for Ami, greatly comforted to feel her safe, though Ami's mind was a
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swirling mass of emotion.
Slightly dazed, Silverthorn lay on the floor and stared upwards at the ceiling. "I heard that" she
said to Fadil without looking around at the S'Hean. "And I would just like to point out that you
were making as big a mess with that sledgehammer as anyone else. Speaking of which... it seems
to be embedded in the ceiling. I do hope Darec doesn't mind."
Cully's squeak drew her attention to the reappearance of the SandShadow. "What did I tell you
about calling me that?" she said to him absently before his words sank in. "Belle is here?" Jade
green eyes turned to regard Reece with a certain amount of surprise. She pushed at Ro's
shoulder. "Get off me, Chev. I think it's stopped trying to suck us into the tunnel now. We ought
to go and see what your sister wants."
Fadil looked indignantly at Silverthorn. "It's not embedded. It's resting. As soon as it's feeling
better it'll be right down." Inwardly, he was groaning. What else could possibly have gone wrong
now?
Y’Roden had gone oddly silent, eyeing Reece with something close to trepidation. Lifting
himself carefully off Silverthorn the half-elf offered his wife a hand up. Fadil’s theory about the
sledgehammer proved correct and it nearly dinged the S’Hean King on the head on its way
down. One massive hand halted its decent and he shot a look at the Captain before moving
towards the ladder.
Emerging from the cellar covered in dust and other less pleasant things, Ro made his way into
the taproom and stared at his sister for a moment. “Yes?”
Silverthorn slid her arm around her husband's waist, her gaze filled with the same unease as he
felt as it met that of her sister-in-law. "I thought you were staying with Se'Liene, Belle."
“I did… I was,” Belle answered, wavering slightly beneath Y’Roden’s gaze, “there isn’t any
easy way to tell you this…” Eyes bright with distress she looked to Argent for a moment, then
back at her brother and his wife. “Linnis… she has taken three of the children. Beth tried to stop
her…”
The wooden handle of the sledgehammer cracked in the half-elf’s grip and his chest heaved,
“Which… three.”
Belle licked her lips and took a step back, “Muirne Badb Catha… Drysi… and Yseult.” Small
hands clapped over her ears in anticipation of the King’s roar of rage, which came in short order.
The sledgehammer went airborne, smashing through a window and raining shards of glass over
the room.
“WHERE,” Ro snarled, “Where has she taken them?”
"Oh Gods!" Silverthorn's whispered words could barely be heard above her husband's anger.
Everything suddenly seemed to be coming from a very long way away. Without conscious
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thought she groped around for a chair, collapsing down into it as her legs gave way. All she
could think was that now all of her children were in the hands of someone who meant them
harm... in the case of the twins, their elder sister. "This is my fault, isn't it?" She wasn't aware of
speaking. All she could see was the anger and pain in Linnis' blue eyes virtually every time they
had spoken.
“I don’t know,” Belle answered in a tremulous voice, “the portal wasn’t S’Hean… I couldn’t
follow it.”
***
The second Nuru’kh-ai was torn to shreds as Agaru, protesting, burst forth and launched into
flight low to the ground. A gout of flame ignited the nearest advancing beasts before she banked
and flew in close to the others.
Callan… look to the South… we have to get out of here. Now… Massive front claws plucked
Bran and Adarin from a knot of fighting Nuru’kh-ai and the Crimson beat her heavy wings,
lugging them skywards.
Be ready to shift when I drop you Steel…
Stepping out of her latest victim, Shadow suddenly dropped to her stomach and rolled away as
fire erupted behind her. At the last possible second, she melted into the shadows, catching the
odd sight of dragon fire in a world she doubted even knew what it was.
A curse escaped her as she dodged away from a slithering black tendril aimed at her ankle then
spun away as a reptilian like creature lunged, its dripping fangs collided with sand as the forest
elf quickly vacated the spot. Growling, she rolled from one hell into another, hamstringing the
Nuru’kh-ai that didn’t have the decency to get out of the way.
"I'm ready" Bran replied to the Crimson, his jade eyes already scanning the ground below.
"Okay... now..." For a second the elf fell, then Steel Grey wings caught the air. Burnished scales
gleamed in the light of the DragonFire as Bran banked and soared upwards.
Ice-blue, almost white eyes flicked to the Crimson and her cargo, "Aye...but first, I'll have
dinner... Nuru isn't so bad if you cook them thoroughly to kill all the parasites..."
He didn't have time to worry about his mate taking flight so soon after she'd needed a rest. Agaru
would be far more tired if they stood and fought the Nuru’kh-ai all day...night? Whatever it was
here.
More flame rolled out, setting the sky alight with an amber glow at massive jaws snapped shut
around the mid-section of an burning Nuru, flipped it up in the air and caught it again. One
crushing bite later, the Nuru was swallowed in two pieces.
Cursing in Elvish and Drow, Ild'ashi watched the Crimson leave, but continued to hack at
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Nuru’kh-ai, her long knife slicing through black flesh and plunging into heaving chests.
Somewhere along the way, she'd picked up one of their own blades, had sucked in a sharp,
pained cry as the iron based metal began to burn her flesh before she shoved it into the back of
another beast. A glimmer of something shone through the darkness, fire reflected off the hilt of a
sword stuck through two Uruk's and Ash bolted, dodged several swings aimed at her head and
with the nimble grace of her kind, snatched up the Emperor's Claymore. Her own blade danced
across her knuckles to be placed in its sheath at her waist, leaving both hands free to wield the
oversized blade.
Burning, canine eyes shot to the S'Hean Ranger...it was time to scram and Yarwin knew it. They
were overwhelmed and tired, staying to fight was suicide.
"Ash..." A growling, gravelly voice spoke from the hellhounds jaws, "Alley-oop!" Snarling,
Yarwin sank back on his haunches before leaping like a horse from the starting gate, ran
headlong through the gathering numbers of Nuru, his massive head swinging side to side,
knocking small groups of them aside like bowling pins. Horned head lowered, Yarwin charged
straight at Ash.
Bi-colored eyes went-wide with alarm, "Alley-oop? What is alley-oop? Oh SHIT!" That word
she knew...she'd been in Y'Roden's company too long to not. Ash sprang from the ground as one
gloved hand snatched a curling ram's horn on the shape-shifter's head while booted feet
scrabbled for purchase on the lunging hound.
The ground began to dwindle before the sword bearing S'Hean found a seat on the back of the
furry Yarwin. Yodeling and jeering at the cursing Nuru’kh-ai, Ash finally began to feel alive in
this place.
"Anyone ever tell you, you smell like wet dog?"
Agaru snorted with amusement at her mate then aligned herself above Bran. Incoming! Releasing
the Elen King she let him fall to the Steel’s broad back, then dropped a wingtip, circling back.
Ignoring the rampaging black for the moment, she skimmed low, plucking Ghetsuhm out of the
fray, then Shadow. Hang on girls… it gets a bit bumpy… be ready to shift Copper. A swath of
flame spilled from her jaws, igniting the Nuru’kh-ai that were protesting the loss of their prey.
She still wasn’t quite sure they would be the proper meal Callan claimed, but she ate one
anyway, just to tide her over.
Bearing her living cargo higher up she turned to the East and their destination. Ready? One
massive set of claws released Shadow into the air, her hair flowing out like a black and silver
banner.
Hurry up Black, stop lollygagging.
***
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Y’Roden stared at his sister blankly for a moment, then suddenly turned away. His anger seemed
to fizzle, though the elf was still shaking as he knelt down on one knee and brushed tendrils of
dark hair away from his wife’s face. “No… no this isn’t your fault Arianne. You can’t control
Linnis or what she does. It is my fault for trusting her. Regardless, laying blame isn’t getting
anyone anywhere, are you listening to me? Someone has to track Linnis down and get them back
and … damn it all… I can’t leave Corin, not now.” A sound of frustration rumbled in the King’s
chest and he hugged Silverthorn tight against him.
His thoughts were running rampant… but above all he was thinking that if Linnis harmed one
hair on his children’s head, Nenlante was going to see its first public execution ever.
The dark-haired elf buried her face against her husband's shoulder, drawing comfort from his
presence as she blinked back tears of grief and fear. "They're so young," she whispered, "They
were supposed to have been safe. That's all of my children now, Ro. First Fionna and Fechine,
now the girls..." She shuddered, trying to get a grip on herself.
"I'm okay, I'm okay. I am." Silverthorn took a deep, albeit shaky breath, and lifted her head. "I'll
go. I can track her. Any magic that Linnis uses is Badb Catha magic and I've been dealing with it
for centuries more than she has."
“We will get them back, all of them, I promise Vonna,” Ro said softly. He met her gaze for a
moment, his hand resting over their child. Not all of them Elleska… this one is safe. The thought
of her going off and putting the child at risk set fingers of ice running along his spine… but she
was right. Silverthorn was the only one that could properly track Linnis D’Trel. “Bring our girls
back safely… I’ll have Fionna back by the time you return, and I have every faith that the others
will be back from Tenobrous soon, will all the boys… safe and sound.”
Tearing his gaze away from hers he let it travel over those at the bar. He had a sinking feeling, a
suspicion as to where Linnis would have taken the children. “Sahar Ubab Qadr, take two S’Hean
Rangers of your own choosing and accompany my wife. I have a feeling your particular talents
will be needed.”
It was then that S'araia stepped from the shadows. The Captain of the Ingraleis guard bowed her
head respectfully and then spoke. "If you'll allow me, Majesties, I should like to accompany the
Queen as well. After all, it can't hurt to have one more watching your back, yes?" She looked
directly at Silverthorn this time, her heart understanding what the Queen was feeling. While she
appeared young, the Captain was far older than either of the Princesses she served. She'd borne
two daughters, and Auriana had taken both of them. She could not stand by when other innocents
had been taken.
Silverthorn nodded, her hand covering Ro's where it rested on her abdomen. "Our son is safe,
and I'll keep him that way. I promise." Her gaze lifted to meet S'araia's. "Thank you. I would
welcome your assistance. Wherever Linnis has taken the girls will almost certainly not be a
friendly place."
Sahar stood beside the Shroudling King, steel colored eyes growing cold as the news was passed
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on. She nodded at her orders. “Yes milord.” The shadow woman turned and headed out the door
to where she had left her companions, already knowing whom she would be taking with.
Y’Roden watched Sahar leave, then nodded to S'araia before returning his attention to
Silverthorn. He kissed her again, then simply held his wife close, loath to let the woman he loved
above all else out of his sight, and knowing he had no choice.
***
Shadow grinned wildly at Ghet, apparently having a grand time, at least for the moment.
Bombs away! The forest elf cried out as she free fell, shifting as she went; the blood red rune
birthmark shimmered on her copper shoulder. Diving at the horde below, pure acid flew from her
mouth, melting Nuru’kh-ai, stone and anything else in its path. Suddenly there was a weight on
her tail and she twisted her head slightly.
Whoah…who says Nuru’kh-ai can’t jump? There was mirth in her voice as she flipped the beast
over her head and bounced it off of her nose. Hey! Who wants to play hacky-sack with the
Nuru’kh-ai? Or maybe use him as a shuttlecock? Oh! I know! Let’s play baseball! If she were a
true Copper, her jokes could have been blamed on that, but since she wasn’t, it had to be chalked
up to the thrill of battle.
Adarin was trying to breathe. First he'd been snatched up, now he'd been dropped and he clung to
Bran's dragon back for dear life, praying to the Creator that none of these battle-crazed dragons
forgot themselves and accidentally snatched him up as an appetizer.
A trumpet of laughter filled the skies above the Copper as Agaru flew into position, Catch! I
wouldn’t recommend playing baseball with this one though. Releasing the redhead the Crimson
grunted with approval as she landed neatly on Shadow’s back.
Gotch ya! It was debatable if she was talking to Agaru or Ghet and there was a possibility she
was talking to both. Fa’ilte Ghet, grab a spike and hold on, I think I better get rid of my toy.
Banking slightly, Shadow flipped said toy into the air and swung her tail around, connecting with
the Nuru’kh-ai turned baseball with a juicy crack. Do you think that’s a home run? She asked,
her forest green iris swirling with laughter.
Ghet was furious. Given that she hadn't rolled straight over every Orc in Tenobrous and razed
Samara's keep to the ground, she hadn't been finished yet. But something about Shadow's
reckless enjoyment was contagious, and the red haze started to recede. She actually cackled with
glee as she watched the Orc flying off through the air. That's a cracking shot! Seriously, I really
think he cracked when he hit that rock. Believe me, I'm holding on.
Tension that she didn’t know she had within her eased at Ghet’s laughter and she felt a sense of
relief that she was having a good time. Good, cause I’d hate to lose my favourite human. The
forest elf really meant that, despite everything that had happened.
Ash's husky laughter floated thorough the murky green sky, Copper or not, Shadow had been too
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funny. But then, perhaps the S'Hean was to the hysterically tired stage, where everything seemed
funny. Dark fingers remained curled around the hilt of the Claymore as the elf leaned forward
and snuggled down into the fur on the back of the hell-hound Yarwin. Dog smell or not, he was
warm and furry and Ash was cold and growing tired.
"Just be sure to wash good when you get home. My teeth already feel awful for eating Nuru’khai. No telling what you could get from them. Nasty buggers." Callan rumbled in a tone full of
laughter before pulling alongside Agaru.
"Will you be okay, M’Tashnae?" Topaz eyes filled with worry and dwindling BattleRage swept
over his mate, "You could shift...let Tay ride with Adarin..." Callan banked slightly to the left,
then tucked his wings long enough to change altitude slightly, then banked right to be directly
beneath the Crimson. If she were to fall, he could hold her up at least long enough to get them
both landed safely.
Yarwin chuckled softly, no; he'd not been told he smelled like wet dog, ever. Well, okay, maybe
a time or two, but not recently...okay. Well, not by anyone but Rachel, and that was after playing
Lassie Come Home with the boys. The problem with that game was that Morgan and Taylon
always forgot it was OLD YELLER that came down with rabies and had to be shot. He couldn't
count the times he'd dodged bullets...damnit...he couldn't believe those insane Rangers from
Ingraleis kept giving those two loaded rifles...
The Shai'ay maintained his altered appearance for Ash alone, she was indeed cold and tired, and
if the S'Hean feel asleep on his back, he doubted she'd fall overboard. He couldn't say the same
for Callan's Claymore, but it could be replaced, unlike Ash.
Grumbling, Yarwin fell into the rhythm of flight and let the joys of being airborne soothe his
soul. He was ready to be home; ready to let his sons shoot at him all day long...they had bad aim
anyway. And most of all, he was ready to hold his sons, his wife and their unborn daughter all at
one time and simply be...warm and fuzzy.
I’ll be all right; Agaru answered her mate angling her head slightly to watch the Black
manoeuvre into a position below her. The Crimson was tired, but she’d be damned if anyone,
even Callan, would know it. Tay protested slightly, quietly, then went silent, taking the
opportunity to rest. The Dragon knew more about what was going on at present than she did, so
it made more sense to give her the reins… so to speak. I’ll be fine….
***
"The portal opens, m'lady."
Nuuruhuine turned. "So it does, Tala. Good. I wish the four of you to remain here please. There
is no need to scare our guests at present after all." The Goddess smiled, but stepping forward and
holding out her hands. "Linnis. Welcome to the Tauremorna, dalharil. And you have succeeded.
Congratulations. But three children? I thought you were just bringing your sisters?"
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"Ilhar" said Linnis ushering the girls out of the portal. The silver wormhole shimmered then
blinked out of existence, leaving a small trace of magic in the air around the small forest
clearing. Her blue eyes went from the four women watching them to the small child cradled in
her arms. "Things did not go quite according to plan, the girls insisted I bring Muirne with us. I
would rather have not, her mother can be quite...objectionable." She hoped Nuuruhuine would
not be angry at her for bringing the little one with them. "I didn't really know what to do, the
twins were upset, it would have been so much easier if they'd been on their own..." Linnis
lowered her head, her usual arrogance disappearing in front of the Goddess. "I'm sorry" she said
afraid she had lost the love of her ilhar.
"Muirne, is it? Brandubh Badb Catha's child?" Nuuruhuine trailed a finger delicately down the
sleeping blonde girl's cheek. "There is no need to apologize, dalharil. You may have surpassed
expectations."
"So this is the one the Phantom Queen has been grooming," murmured a tall young woman with
ebony locks that hung in a single braid down her back in a voice too low to be heard by the
recent arrivals. Over her shoulder hung a quiver of arrows, the compliment to the bow she
carried in one hand.
"Hush Jhulae, they'll hear you,” muttered the Elven woman standing beside her.
"And if they do, T'risstree? So what?" Jhulae retorted. There was a distinct family relationship
between the two women despite the difference in their eye colour. Jhulae's were a warm, flashing
hazel. T'risstree's a delicate pale green.
"Then Nuuruhuine might get angry," her older sister shot back.
"Both of you knock it off." The speaker, Tala, was the oldest of the four Ravens that had
accompanied their Goddess. Brown-haired and brown-eyed, there was an air of quiet competence
about her.
A confused look crossed the brunette's face, "Yes it's Doro's daughter, honestly I didn't want to
take her, maybe there's some way of sending her back?"
"Maybe" Nuuruhuine said softly, "although given the current disturbances I'm sure it won't hurt
her to stay here for awhile too. I'm sure her cousins would appreciate her company, wouldn't you
girls?"
Drysi clung to Yseult's hand, her emerald eyes wide as they stared at the dark-haired woman
before them. She didn't recognize this place and she was starting to become frightened.
Linnis could feel her younger sister's distress and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's
ok, Drysi. This is Dera Nuuruhuine. We're going to stay with her for a while."
"But Ammah and Addah said we had to stay with Beth. Grand-Ammah Se'Liene will miss us
soon, won't she Yse?" The dark-haired little girl looked at her twin.
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“Linnis,” Yse said, “I want to see Addah and Ammah now. I don’t like her,” she said bluntly
pointing at Nuuruhuine, “I want to go… its scary here.” Jade eyes narrowed, “how did she know
we were coming?” Something wasn’t sitting right with the little girl and she wished Muirne
would wake up.
"Now don't point Yse" Linnis said, "there's nothing to be afraid of, Dera Nuuruhuine won't hurt
us, and I'll make sure nothing happens to you." The brunette tried to sound reassuring but she
wasn't exactly good with children.
Yse donned a petulant expression, but dropped her hand obediently. “She isn’t my Dera,” the
fair-haired child protested. “But… you are my sister… so… I’ll trust you.”
"And that is the way it should be," Nuuruhuine inserted smoothly. She waved a hand and the
four women who had accompanied her stepped forward. "My dear, I would like to introduce you
to four of my Ravens. Seanait, Jhulae, Tala and T'risstree, this is my dalharil, Linnis. I hope you
will make her and the girls with her very welcome. They are all my special guests. In fact I
believe you know the girls parents. Muirne is the daughter of Brandubh Badb Catha, whilst
Yseult and Drysi here are the children of his sister, Arianne. I'm sure you remember them both."
An odd look passed between the four. "Oh yes," Seanait murmured, "we've heard a lot about
them."
The Goddess nodded. "We should be on our way. Come everyone. We have a way to travel I'm
afraid."
***
Silverthorn paused for a moment in the doorway of the nursery, her gaze sweeping over the
room. She couldn't help feeling that there ought to be more sign of the devastation that had been
wrought here, that something as painful as this should not have been so easy to accomplish. The
dark-haired elf's fingers curled into a tight fist until her knuckles whitened. Betrayal was
something she had never tolerated and for her there was not a more deep betrayal than this. To
have her own daughter kidnap her two younger sisters, to take them away from their home and
their family... that was unforgivable.
Without saying a word she crossed over to where the last traces of the portal still lingered if you
had eyes to see. It only confirmed what she already knew. Badb Catha magic. The silver sparkles
still lingered in the Aethyr.
“Silverthorn?” Se’Liene entered the room through a side door, her face haggard with worry, the
silver shining with abundance in her hair. The Queen Mother was leaning heavily on the arm of
an Elf with shoulder length chestnut hair and pale green eyes. “This is Rem’Mieris Al’Teron, son
of Lord Al’Teron. He is my contribution to your journey. Remmy is one of the few S’Heans that
have ventured beyond the wards of Whispin itself. His loyalty is unquestionable… even if his
line of work might be.” A gentle smile lit her face and she patted the chagrined looking fellow’s
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arm. “Don’t worry Dear heart, I don’t think Her Majesty will think any less of you for being a
thief. She might appreciate your skill with a sword and the Aethyr too much to really think on it.
Isn’t that right Silverthorn?”
"Indeed," her daughter-in-law replied quietly. "Besides, I can hardly complain about anyone's
background given my own." Her gaze shifted to Remmy, a faint smile curving her lips although
it failed to reach her eyes. "Don't look so perturbed. Some of my best friends have been thieves
and mercenaries. I couldn't care less about the nature of your work. In fact the better the thief you
are, the better off we may well be. This isn't going to be a fun journey for anyone."
“D’Anke y’Tyrah,” Remmy said in a low voice, bowing slightly at the waist. “How many of us
are there, might I ask?”
"Six, including ourselves," Silverthorn replied "Sahar Ubab Qadr, S'araia of the Ingraleis Guard
and Mira Badb Catha will be joining us here as soon as they are ready, along with one of the
S'Hean Rangers." Her gaze shifted to Se'Liene, "I assume someone has been sent to inform Mira
that we'll be leaving soon." The dark-haired elf had been far from surprised to hear that her
sister-in-law insisted on coming. She knew her too well for that.
"Informing me isn't necessary. I'd have found my way to Linnis D'Trel come hell or half of
Georgia..." Mira stepped through the doorway, dressed in her mysteriously returned garments,
the usual clean white shirt with its open sleeves in back for her wings, black leather vest made
similarly, and her black leather travel pants. Black boots covered her feet and concealed the boot
knives and various throwing daggers strapped to her calf. Her quiver and Owen's blade were
strapped to her back and nestled between onyx black wings, Enkara hung at her hip, curiously
cool and most striking of all, the dragon-elf's waist long hair was cropped short...no sense giving
anyone an extra hand-hold after all...
"Say what you will, Silverthorn D'Riel. But your daughter's life now belongs to me."
Pure, unadulterated Rage animated Mira's face and yet at the same time, her features seemed
carved of cold alabaster. Her colour had leeched out from its healthy tan with the dusting of
silver freckles to a pale, silvery sheen. Mira Badb Catha had slid into the final, most deadly stage
of the Madness, a state of complete unbalance in her soul and mind. Emotions could range from
giddy giggles to ruthless killing in a matter of breaths...and sometimes, the ruthless killing
brought on the giddiness...
"I will not argue with you, Mira," her sister-in-law said softly, "but bear one thing in mind
please. Linnis is my daughter, and it is also two of her sisters that she has taken. I have as much
claim on her as you do. If this is anyone's fault this is mine. It is only through her relationship
with me that she was allowed access to the girls, and according to Beth it was me she blamed for
making it necessary to take them in the first place. Muirne may well simply have been in the
wrong place at the wrong time."
S'araia stepped through the doorway, keeping a healthy distance between herself and the dragonelf. She understood the rage, in a sense, and the madness, but again, only in a sense. The Captain
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of the Ingraleis Guard hadn't risen to that position by getting close to things she didn't
understand, or by not keeping a healthy distance between herself and any overwhelming emotion
or lack thereof. "I'm here as well..."
Gre led the shadow woman up the stairs and into the nursery, quickly bowing to Se’Liene and
Silverthorn. He eyed Remmy for a moment before grinning, a memory of seeing him around
before.
Sahar looked up at the S’Hean and shook her head as she stepped in, in time to hear the list.
“Sahar,” she motioned to herself, then to the ranger beside her, hitting him in the stomach as she
did so, “Gre'Yor Ma'Ius.”
"Dagar, all of you. Thank you for coming. I'm only sorry that this was necessary." Silverthorn's
words were cool as the dark-haired elf retreated behind the walls she put up between herself and
the world. She couldn't allow herself to think about what might be happening to the girls,
couldn't let herself dwell on her concern for other members of her family, her husband. That way
lay madness. The important thing now was simply to get them back safely. "There are still traces
of the portal that Linnis created. Judging by the other remnants it was Yseult that opened the
wards. That's a good sign in some respects as it means that she at least must be reasonably
healthy, but it doesn't explain why. Something I intend to have my eldest daughter explain at the
earliest opportunity." The smile that curved her lips was cold.
Turning, the S'Hean Queen placed her hand on the spot where the last traces of the portal
remained. Silver fire blossomed around her fingers, spreading and swirling until a wide mirrorlike surface hovered in mid-air. On the other side could be seen glimpses of a forest clearing.
"Who's first?"
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Chapter 7
Soft, glowing emerald light lit Y'Roden's palm, forming a sphere that floated weightlessly up
into the air and hovered in the black of the tunnel, shedding light in a place that had been sealed
away for over three thousand years. The stench had eased somewhat, to the point where they
could breath without eyes watering.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait a little longer?” Cully asked from somewhere behind his Uncle,
sea green eyes adjusting to the low light as he exchanged a look with his two siblings.
“No… we need to assess the condition of the tunnel,” the King answered, then paused, his boot
coming up against something in the dark. Utter silence descended for the space of several
heartbeats, then he abruptly turned around. “Cully, Glory, Mak, upstairs… now.”
“But…”
“I said now, that’s an order,” Ro snapped, “don’t come back down unless I call you.”
Meanwhile, upstairs, Melaina was looking at Argent as her necklace glowed for a moment.
"Cubby, what's going on?" It was rare she called him that, a sure sign that she was close to the
edge of her emotions. Her necklace only did that when Shadow was near...
Argent turned his attention from the window to Mel, as he sat down. “Just sending teasing
glimpses to Kit, she’s missing the sun,” he chuckled sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose,
knowing that wasn’t going to cut it. “We’ve been keeping each other updated on what’s going
on. The differences of time and space doesn‘t affect us, but then you've been around enough to
realize this."
Fadil came up behind his friend and laid a firm hand on his shoulder. It was one thing to know
about someone's past, another to have it lay out in bloody chunks before you. He was really
hoping the boys would take the hint and just go.
Cully backed up a step, Ro was his Doro, but he was also his King. A bit of an adjustment to
make really, but he obeyed. “Yes sir.” Nudging his twin and younger brother the titian haired elf
headed for the ladder. Curiosity was eating at him, but if Y’Roden of all people looked a bit
disturbed by what was in that tunnel, perhaps he didn’t want to know.
Glory resented the order and he resented being prodded by his brother. He hung back,
deliberately ducking his head when Cully and Mak pulled at him. He caught Mak's eyes and
barely cringed when his little brother's eyes clouded and then turned away. He just hissed silently
at Cully.
He wasn't moving. And then his brothers pulled him away forcibly and he cursed the entire way
up.
As the boys moved out of earshot Ro turned his head slightly to look at Fadil. He was about the
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only person the half-elf could stand seeing this… witness to what he had once been. “Well…
preserved isn’t it? How are we going to move all this…? Gods… why didn’t they clear the
tunnel first? Wait… don’t answer that…” He knew why. There hadn’t been time. Sealing
Y’Roden off from the Castle had required speed and sacrifice… a few of the corpses here were
untouched. They had died here, sealed in the tunnel.
Others… Nuru’kh-ai and human alike were torn… crushed, shredded… all manner of atrocities.
And most had been killed by the very man that stood in the mouth of the opening. So well
preserved one would have thought they had just died. For a moment the past flashed through his
mind and the half-elf staggered, breathing heavy and leaning on the wall. Screams, the crunch of
breaking bone, the sound of rending flesh and the scent of hot blood. “I think I need a minute…”
Mel just nodded and leaned over against Argent, a silent offer of sisterly comfort. She knew he'd
have told her if anything important had occurred, at least anything good... If it was bad, she
didn't want to know. Not yet anyway. Still silent, she placed the bottle on the table, her way of
offering to share...
Fadil bit his lip and let his king have a moment. Then he said, "I think you need a drink. I think I
need a drink. I'd suggest we burn it all, but the air doesn't seem too good in here." He started
considering the logistics even of heaving this mass of bodies through a portal, just the two of
them, and shuddered. "We may have to do that anyway."
“A drink sounds like just the thing,” Ro muttered, “then… I don’t know… balefire? You cast, I
magnify, we should be able to make it powerful enough to just… incinerate… everything.” His
eyes were riveted on a guard lying near his foot, seeming entranced by the gaping hole in the
human’s chest and the missing heart. Y’Roden was trying very hard not to remember where the
organ had ended up. “Right… I think I need something a little stronger than brandy right now.”
***
Shadow lay on her back, arms crossed under her head as she stared up at the eerie green fog that
seemed to move of its own accord. It reminded her of several things, none of which were
pleasant. Inhaling deeply, she let it out softly, in a physical and mental sigh.
“Kit, you there?” A mental image of her brother popped into her mind. His usually smooth
copper face was drawn and she barely kept from sighing again.
Where else would I be but in my head? I‘m sorry I haven‘t checked in, things have been…hectic.
“Good point… And its not like I have been keeping in touch either…so, you tell me your story
and I’ll tell you mine.”
So you’re a storyteller now, hmmm? Weary humour accompanied her voice, as well as a mental
image of the forest elf smiling, outwardly the corner of her mouth curled up in her unique grin.
“Just get on with it Kit, we could use some good news on this side.”
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Shadow bit back a sigh and nodded mentally, We’re getting closer, the shadows are becoming
more twisted and the number of Nuru’kh-ai is elevating, we should be there within a day or so.
We’ve lost Galain, he was taken from us by the bitch a few days back, it has hit Ghet pretty hard,
but I think she’s coping, not well mind you, but she’s making it. Aya lost some of her memory
during the attack, so we are going off what Agaru can find. Add that to the fact that Yarwin has
decided that its okay to try and prove himself and we’re just having a barrel of fun…
Argent gave a mental nod, “I can imagine that none of it has helped Ghet very well.”
No, but she is strong, she will make it. Your turn Cubby, the bad news first please.
The Elven bear sighed wearily, “We lost a few in the battle,” images of Shroudlings they had
both known as children flashed through her mind, “They are already heading to Mir’ror, I doubt
we’ll see them again. We lost more horses than anything, the brothers are determining if more
should be sent for, or if the riderless should be sent to help the other allies, they have suffered far
more. On the plus side, we did regain the city, Si'Lyen has been rescued. Kalab was able to see it
from where he and Anelain were. Valin swept in and flew off with her; she’s been taken back to
S’Hea. He also said that one of the dragons went up in a ball of flame.” Argent sent a few more
images through, some of which it was all Shadow could do to keep from laughing out loud.
“Now for the bad news…”
I said bad news first!
“Don’t interrupt me! Linnis, I’m guessing that is Silverthorn’s daughter by the way Belle talked,
has kidnapped the girls.”
WHAT!? The forest elf sat bolt upright, her forest green eyes going wide and quickly darkening
to an inky black. “Shit…” the word escaped her, though her voice was low, she looked to see if
she‘d awaken any of the others. Which ones?
“What do you mean which ones? Yseult, Drysi and Muirne, a rescue party is leaving for
Elemmiire soon, and before you say anything, Sahar is going with them. Ro ordered her to go,
though I don’t think he needed to, she looked fairly ready to go right then if she knew the way.
Silverthorn, S'araia and a S’Hean ranger are all I know that is going, they left for S’Hea soon
after.” There was a pause and Gent’s face look distracted before returning his attention back to
his sister. “Have to go for a bit, Kit, be careful crossing the sands tomorrow.”
All right, be sure to pass that on to Ro. He needs to know what’s going on over here…and no
more picking things up out of my brain, Gent!
A chuckle echoed inside her mind followed by a glimpse of a Whispin sky.
Thanks… she sent before he was gone from her. Shadow sighed and flopped back onto the
ground, sorting through what should or shouldn't be told to the others.
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One faceted emerald eye cracked open, the Crimson’s gaze falling on the shifting Forest Elf. The
Dragon groaned slightly, sending a puff of dust and dirt clouding out in front of her muzzle with
an expelled breath. Exhausted, she had landed and basically fallen where she stood, a sprawl of
limbs and wings on the dark soil. She was rested now, but not quite ready to move. Nor was she
ready to shift to half-Elven form, as An’Thaya was still asleep, so to speak. The leathery eyelid
slid shut again and the end of her tail twitched slightly before Agaru drifted back into dreamland.
Bran rolled over restlessly, unable to sleep. His mind kept playing constant pictures of what
could be happening to his son whilst he lay here on the edge of the sands doing nothing. The
state of Yarwin bothered him too. If his brother-in-law was struggling being cut off from Rachel,
what might Mira be going through? Fear struck him to the heart. Hang on Chev, please. I'll come
back, I promise he whispered, but knew that she couldn't hear him.
Adarin was soundly asleep, though the inches between himself and Tay might have been telling.
And then he rolled against her, his sleep silent and sound though his dreams troubled him
occasionally.
Ghet twitched and muttered in her sleep. In her dreams, the flow of time blurred, moments lying
over the top of each other, all the times she had pushed the barrier of madness. Shadow's
affection, Yarwin's concern, they had grounded her, bought her a little more time. But soon she
was going to have to put her plan into action, and, it seemed, without the benefit of An'Thaya's
advice.
Her nightmares brought her awake, sitting bolt upright with a strangled cry, rubbing at her skin
to push away the feeling of that thing touching her. She sighed, the shuddering gradually seeping
away. There would be no more sleep for her.
***
Gre looked at the others and stepped forward towards the portal. “I’ll go,” without hesitation, he
pulled his bow and knocked it as he stepped through. It was better to be safe than sorry after all.
“Well,” Remmy said with a brief smile, “I might as well go next then.” He patted the brace of
throwing daggers strapped across his chest, released the sword harnessed to his back, and then
armed the crossbow slung at his hip. “I’m not paranoid… honest, I prefer to call it… prudent.”
Chuckling soft he stepped through after Gre, disappearing into the shimmering energy of the
portal.
S'araia snorted softly. "If they only knew just how many daggers I have on me..." This was in
addition to the rapier attached to her hip and the small crossbow that hung from her other hip..."
She grinned and stepped into the portal, well on her guard. The two mothers were to be protected
at all costs; she could almost hear Kaelan in her head now.
Sahar eyed Remmy and grinned for the first time since letting her presence be known. "I think
the Mistress would like that one," she commented as she followed S'araia. Her shamshir
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appeared in her hand, already shifting into shadow form as she stepped through.
Then there was just Mira and Silverthorn left in the nursery. The Queen of S'Hea looked at her
sister-in-law, her friend, and sighed. "I'm sorry Mira," she murmured. Jade green eyes met jade
for a second and then she glanced back towards the portal. "After you."
Mira's eyes sparked brighter, black wings rustled in response to foreign smells and colours
glimpsed through the portal. The dragon-elf took one step and paused.
"Silverthorn..." The dragon-elf felt a moment of lucidity coming across her thoughts, a single
breath of clarity that wouldn't last long, "Think what you will about who's fault this is, but
Linnis, for all her problems, is an adult. It is LINNIS in the end that chose LINNIS' fate. She was
warned, she understood. She is a woman grown. You cannot...will not accept responsibility for
this, nor do I hold you responsible. Save your apologies for something else that you have control
over." Mira's fingers left the hilt of her dagger and curved around Silverthorn's arm, a rare thing,
and one of the few times in her life she'd touched her sister-in-law.
"Silme nasse..." Mira's throaty alto was low, just out of hearing of anyone else as jade eyes met
jade. "I don't know how long this will last, how long I can control it, if at all..." Here the dragonelf floundered, not sure how to express what she was thinking, the sanity was a touch and go
thing now, and eventually, even the moments when she could think straight would be
gone...there would be nothing left, nothing but Rage and agony.
"Just make sure Muirne comes back when we find them." Mira turned on her heel and stepped
through the portal, her eyes already glazing with bloodlust and unrest.
"And if you want dibs on Linnis, you better hope you find her first...and that the children are
unharmed."
Silverthorn nodded, her eyes distant as she watched the last of the group step through. Now there
was only herself. She took a deep breath, aware of how difficult what might have seemed such a
simple thing was for her. She had sworn that she would never go back after she had escaped
from Nuuruhuine before, and she had not. For over three thousand years she had not set foot in
the land of her birth. But now she had no choice. For her children she would break a personal
vow that until now had remained inviolate.
The dark-haired elf was barely aware of the silver portal snapping shut behind her as she stepped
through into the Tauremorna. Jade eyes flared black, her body swaying slightly as the sights and
smells hit her with the force of a hammer blow. "Gods!" she gasped, for a moment wondering if
she would drown beneath the dark magic that welled up inside her. She had forgotten, or had
allowed herself to forget, how much stronger the effects of it were here. This was it's source and
it swirled around her soul, for a moment all but obliterating the silver and emerald threads.
***
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Agaru snorted and opened her eye again, gazing curiously down at the Elen King. She blinked
once, snuffled at him, then went back to sleep. It was about time to start getting up and ready to
go, but the Crimson was still rather wiped.
And it was the damnedest thing to be awakened by a dragon snort. Adarin's eyes were wide open
and he stared upward, startled before he rolled toward Agaru and ran his hand over her muzzle.
Then he rolled away -- quickly. He wasn't her mate and she was... impressive.
"Take your time," he said softly.
At the edge of the camp, a large furry hellhound rolled onto his back and began kicking one hind
leg. Ild’ashi stood beside him, scratching Yarwin behind the ear.
"You know..." The S'Hean's voice sounded well-rested, more alive than it had in days, "You're
not that bad of a bed partner, hound...but I think I have fleas now..."
The Shai'ay had kept one leathery wing curled around the Ranger through most of the night, his
fur keeping his own body warm. One lapis eye rolled open as his crimson tongue lolled out of his
open jaws and hung limp.
"To the left please...no...your other left...down...right..."
"Oh for the love of Light..." Ash breathed and finally slapped Yarwin lightly on the muzzle. "I
give...you need a bath and a de-fleaing...soon."
The S'Hean knelt and picked up a gleaming blade, the Emperor's sword and walked casually over
to the slumbering Black who's tail was draped over the Crimson's back and was working its way
up Adarin's trouser leg.
"You, Dragon..." The Elf rapped the Black smartly on the forehead with the flat of his own
blade. "Wake up..."
A topaz eye cracked open while the tip of his tail continued its exploration up the King's leg,
"M'Tashnae V’ran? You feel...smooth. Are you missing scales on your belly?"
The Emperor was never quite sensible when he'd been asleep, and now was one of those times.
"What do you want, elf?" The dragon grumbled out, his basso voice sounding like massive rocks
tumbling down a mountain.
"Just what the holy hells do you think we're doing here? Your...stunts are going to get you
killed..." Ash replied somewhat heatedly before smecking him again with his sword, this time on
the end of the nose, which got her covered in a blast of soot and snot.
"Watch it Ranger...I've not had a full meal since we left Ciwnac..."
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Well that cut it; Agaru wasn’t going to get anymore sleep at this rate. Cracking that same eyelid
again she rolled a faceted eye to regard Adarin for a moment, puffing a soft ring of smoke. He
was a good man; she could see what someone like her skinwalker might see in him. Though
Agaru herself preferred her males with a little more… fire.
A low rumbling chuckle shook the dragon and she whapped Callan with a wing. I had no idea
you felt that way about Adarin… he has never had scales on his belly, according to Thaya. Now
leave the Ranger alone, brute.
Tay was aware by this point, and softly laughing within the dragon. The Amazon had her wits a
little more intact this morning, a little more of her memory emerging from the chaos of her mind.
An’Thaya, Galain had been the very first person outside of Arminiea to call her that. The
redhead had stumbled into the Green Heart soaked, shivering and frightened; though she tried
her best to hide it from the strange blonde elf that had greeted her in the middle of the night.
Perhaps she would never know what had driven him to help her, to follow her from his home
planet and see An’Thaya D’Riel through to her destiny… the return of Corin from Tenobrous.
The very hell she was now in… they had come full circle.
Now… where did Adarin come in to the picture? And… the Dragon turned her head to regard
the second redhead in the party and An’Thaya’s soul looked through. Where did she come in?
The other female had Galain’s scent on her.
Time to rise and shine, Agaru interrupted the Amazon’s thought process rather abruptly. A
coughing breath had the fire lit and the Crimson lurched to her feet, stretching muscles that
protested the aching cold. We have a long journey ahead.
She was still lying on her back, arms folded behind her head when the commotion started. She
had fallen asleep eventually, but it was troubled by what her brother had told her and what she
should pass on. One forest green eye cracked open and shot the others an almost smouldering
look that bordered on a motherly one.
“You are all worse than my children,” she called out, her naturally thick accent, that she usually
diluted down to near non-existence, coming out strongly in her sleepy state. The forest elf sighed
and let her eye drift shut again, still at odds inside.
“Can’t we sleep just a little bit longer, Mommy?” It was a general question as she tried to come
up with her own answer, and soon.
Ghet was fruitlessly trying to shake sand out of her hair. She looked up when she felt Agaru's eye
on her and winced. She'd been deliberately staying out of An'Thaya's way while she tried to
piece her memories back together, not knowing what 'I'm your husband's wife' might do. But she
was running out of time. She was just slightly handicapped by the fact that she'd never been able
to deal with Agaru.
Then she turned to Shadow and laughed. "Sure you can, honey. You just stay asleep, and
Callan'll carry you the rest of the way in his mouth."
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***
He'd fallen asleep and when Galain awoke it was with a curse. He'd simply fallen backward and
his exhausted body had taken over, cancelling out any attempts to think. He sat up abruptly and
rubbed his face, aching for a shower or a bath or anything. The filth of the dungeon still seemed
to cling to him and he hated it.
At the moment he sat up the door opened abruptly and a hulking Nuru’kh-ai entered, bearing a
tray of food. The elf watched the creature warily, wincing when the thing sneezed directly into
the food. It seemed the Elen prince would go hungry tonight. He could deal with that. Hunger in
his gut and a lingering headache in his head -- these were small things compared to what he
remembered in the dungeon.
And now he had a clue as to the schedule this place ran on. This had to be dinner... Galain got to
his feet and headed toward the food tray and was rewarded with a club to the face.
"You sit. I leave. Then you stand," the Orc rasped out.
Galain could barely answer and just waved a hand. He still had to get a grip on the rules of the
keep though. He stayed where he'd fallen on the floor and stared at the wall, waiting for the
Nuru’kh-ai to leave. When he did he slowly got to his hands and knees and crawled toward the
door. After a moment or so he got to his feet and tried the door.
It opened.
Surprised, Galain held his breath and cautiously peeked through the small opening.
No guards.
Whatever Samara wanted with him, it seemed she was satisfied and felt no need to keep him
under lock and key. That was disquieting and for a moment the headache throbbed. Perhaps she'd
already gotten what she wanted and he was just here at her sufferance.
Sufferance or not he had a golden opportunity to find the boys. There was Caolan -- one of Bran
and Mira's twins... and then there were Morgan and Taylon... Yarwin and Rachel's twins. And
there was Fechine... he'd seen the boy so briefly, but he knew Silverthorn and Y'Roden's son was
here. Finally, there was Rhagi. Ghet's son. He thought of the child for a few moments as he slid
carefully into the corridor. What would this abduction to the child's psyche? Should he care?
He did. Rhagi was half Ghetsuhm's and wholly loved. None of these children were supposed to
be here.
It was dark in the corridor except for lit torches placed here and there. The place reeked of
Nuru’kh-ai and Galain concluded this wasn't the exalted guest quarters of the keep. Unless
Samara was just a big, fat slob in disguise. A grin curled his lips at that thought and he ventured
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forth, and then halted. He'd need to mark his way somehow. He let two fingers linger on a bit of
stone on the wall and a tiny, golden glow emanated forth. A small letter in elvish -- the first letter
of his name. It would glow when he dragged his hands along the wall.
***
Bran sat up, running a hand absently through his long hair. ""I'm not sure I'd wish the Black's
bad breath on anyone" he said wryly, and then winked at Shadow. "Come on. Rise and shine,
sleepy head. If I have to get up, so do you. It's kind of the principle of the thing."
Agaru chuckled again, amused by the banter flying around the camp, then released an explosive
sigh that nearly blew Bran off his feet. Crimson wings stretched, then retracted, and she let the
reverse process take her, leaving An’Thaya behind.
The Amazon blinked for a moment, thinking it was terribly dark… even for Tenobrous, then
realized she had ended up beneath one of Callan’s wings. She used the opportunity to solve the
clothing dilemma, then made her way along the Black’s side whilst hoping he wasn’t terribly
ticklish as she braced off his scales to find her way out. A few moments later the redhead was
scrambling over a forelimb and falling ungracefully in a heap on the sandy soil.
“Morning all,” she greeted, shoving a hand through her thick crimson locks and pushing them
out of bright green eyes. “What’s for breakfast? Gads… you know… Nuru’kh-ai leaves a
horrible aftertaste.” For a moment she eyed Adarin and considered kissing him just to share the
joy.
Adarin was tucking his trouser leg into his boots. It had been rather startling to find the tip of a
dragon tail slipping up along his leg. He looked up and had to grin at the vision An'Thaya
unconsciously presented. She looked absolutely glorious. And then she mentioned Nuru’kh-ai
aftertastes and the grin froze. He knew that look and while he loved the Amazon very much
morning breath was not something that should be shared -- with anyone.
"Let's have some tea first," he suggested
“Yeah, well you got to sleep more than I did,” Shadow shot at Bran in a tone usually reserved for
family. With a sigh she pushed herself to her feet and shifted enough so any unwanted sand
sifted through her and to the ground.
“Breakfast sounds nice, tea even better,” the forest elf nodded as she half trotted over to join the
others. “And the first time Callan’s mouth gets near me, I’m going to slam a dagger into his
tongue.” She smiled at the Black, “No offence, mind you, I’d just rather not end up drenched in
dragon slobber.”
Crouching down, she smacked her lips, wrinkling her nose, “I have acid mouth, this calls for
whiskey.” With a nod she pulled her flask from a pocket in her vest and took a swig. “Oh, I have
news of Corin…” she started nonchalantly.
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“Corin?” An’Thaya’s head came up from where she was putting a pot of water on over the fire.
She was still piecing things together and it was all rather… puzzling. “What news?” Between
herself and Agaru the Amazon figured she could make sense of it. Sitting back on her heels she
threaded small fingers through her wealth of hair, working the knots out of the fiery mass.
Shadow visibly cringed, forgetting that An’Thaya wasn’t all…there…at the moment. But she
nodded anyway; she had learned long ago how to say things just right so that it didn’t cause
problems. “Ro and the allies have taken back the city,” she flipped through the battle images that
she picked out of her twin’s mind, “part of it is burnt, but otherwise is okay. There were heavy
losses, including one of the dragons.” Her eyes flickered over to Callan and Yarwin before
returning to An’Thaya’s face.
“Valin rescued Si’Lyen, and a siege against the castle will probably begin soon.” The forest elf
let her eyes turn towards the fire.
The expression on An’Thaya’s face was rather perplexed for a moment. “Y’Roden and the
allies? He is acting on my Father’s behalf then? And… who are Valin and Si’Lyen?” She had
gathered that the city was under Tallin’s control somewhere along the line thanks to Agaru, but
the rest had her utterly baffled. The entire situation had her spinning, Tay knew none of the
children they were trying to rescue… she only knew Galain in any amount of clarity… and there
were vestiges of Shadow in there as well now. Flashes of journey’s taken…
Slim fingers stroked the small friendship feather woven into her flaming locks and An’Thaya
frowned. When had she married Galain? What in the name of light had possessed him to ask?
What the hell had happened to Elyen? Wait... who was Elyen?
Her brain was starting to hurt.
Shadow nodded carefully, “You could say that, your father is, otherwise occupied. Si’Lyen is a
young woman that Tallin took captive,” the forest elf riffled through her memory trying to locate
something that would help, “he used her to take Corin and start a war, Valin is her brother, they
are both very dear to your brother.”
An’Thaya bit her lip, then nodded, “Well… alright then.” Clearing her throat she turned to
rummage through her pack. “I suppose we ought to hurry up and have some breakfast. Agaru
says we have another good stretch of sand to fly over today. On the bright side, we should reach
the Eastern Elven Outpost by… oh, late this evening or early tomorrow morning. Though how
she keeps track of days in here I have no idea… and why are they in twenty-four hour increments
instead of forty-eight? Not that I’m complaining mind you. I’ll shut up now.”
Doing just that she set about making IronBane tea, a concoction that had a bitter taste not unlike
coffee. It was a habit she had fallen into after a human male had attacked her with an iron blade
in her early thirties. Tay still bore the faint scar on her cheek, and a deeper one on her soul.
***
177
Galain felt like he'd been wandering forever throughout the keep, and he'd lost all track of time.
That worried him a bit as he was fearful that he should have been staying in the room he'd found
himself in. But then again... the door had been unlocked and to the elf that seemed like an open
invitation to explore a little. Disquiet again gripped him. But why was he being allowed to
wander at will? Why had he been moved to that room? And why the hells wouldn't this headache
of his go away?
The guttural tones of Nuru’kh-ai just ahead had Galain flattening himself against the wall. He
had no desire to run into the foul creatures. There was no telling what they might do to a
wandering high elf and he really had no intention of finding out. Occasionally he ran into wraiths
who whispered at him, seemingly plucking at his clothes and hair. Galain found them highly
disturbing, but somewhat harmless as he mentally repeated "Lalalalalala".
Doors were not a frequent feature of the corridors Galain was exploring. Spiders the size of "way
too damn big" were though. They lurked in the shadows beyond the meagre pools of light cast by
occasional torches and Galain had been dismayed when he found he couldn't kill them with
balefire. His headache had intensified and nothing had come from his hands, the weave of power
required simply dissipating the instant he formed it. The elf had resorted to hissing and waving at
the skittery things though by now he was thinking he really just wanted to be back in that room.
The unintelligible talk of the Nuru’kh-ai died away and the elf moved forward again, still
dragging his hand along the wall and suddenly felt the roughness of wood beneath his fingertips.
He formed a tiny ball of handfire and inspected it, trying the latch. The door's hinges creaked
hideously and he cringed, pausing. This was the first unlocked door he'd found.
"Hello? Rhagi? Caolan? Morgan? Taylon?" he called out. He held the handfire aloft and realized
he was talking to a stone wall. "Oh brilliant, Galain," he muttered. "You're talking to a closet
wall. And hey! Now you're talking to yourself! Idiot." He turned away and shut the door, and
then resumed his progress along the corridor, hissing out a curse when he tripped over a pile of
bones and fell to his knees.
"Gods, don't they know it's not polite to leave one's leftovers in the hallways?" he muttered,
deciding he preferred the sound of his own voice over the pounding of his heart right now. He
kicked at the bones and got back to his feet. "Okay, let's keep it together. We're going to find the
boys. We're going to find the boys. And who is 'we'? Gods, Galain. You're going mad."
It was quite likely he'd been exploring for hours and it was at least two more hours later when
Galain finally slid to the ground, his back against the wall as he succumbed momentarily to an
immense exhaustion. He was famished and frustrated. He'd not felt this alone in ages and it was
frightening. Of course at that moment he realized he wasn't leaning against the wall, but against a
door which swung inward, sending the elf somersaulting backward into something much larger
than a closet.
"Stupid elf!" he told himself before he realized he was in a room, albeit a dimly one. Hope flared
in him as he peered about, wishing he could see in the dark. "Rhagi?" he called out, his eyes
settling on several huddled forms. "Rhagi?" he asked again.
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***
"We should stop, M’Lady. It grows dark and the way will become treacherous underfoot." Tala's
voice was soft as the Raven bowed to the Battle Goddess, keeping her eyes carefully on the
ground. One never knew what the Phantom Queen's mood might be from one moment to the
next.
"Very well" Nuuruhuine replied. "Set up camp. Help them please, dalharil." She held out her
arms and gently removed Muirne from the brunette's grasp. "It is time our little sleeping beauty
awakened." Ignoring the quiet noises of the women moving around, the Goddess cradled the
dragon-elf to her, slim fingers running over the young girl's cheek. She could sense Linnis' magic
like an aura hovering over her skin. Powerful, she thought, but untrained. This lack of training
meant there was often no subtlety, the magic wielded almost like a club and that, as now, led to
mistakes.
"Draeval ulu guuan, lotha tagnik'zur dalhar. Jous ussa dossta solen."
Linnis nodded "yes, Ilhar" she said passing the sleeping child to the Goddess. "Stay with Muirne,
girls. I'll be right over here ok?" she said to the twins. The brunette made her way to the group of
four women. "Hi, T'risstree is it?" she said to the dark-haired woman, "what would you like me
to do?"
T'risstree looked up from her task, her pale green eyes curious as they rested on the other
woman. "We need more firewood,” she said softly. "Seanait was just going. Seanait..." A
brunette looked around. "Take Linnis with you. Two hands will make quicker work of it than
one."
Seanait looked across at Tala who nodded in confirmation of the raven-haired woman's
instruction. "Come on then" the brunette said, her tone not exactly friendly, as she turned on her
heel and disappeared amongst the trees.
A brown brow arched at the brunette's tone but Linnis did not say anything. She took off after
Seanait in to forest calling after her "hang on."
Yse was unusually quiet and clinging hard to Drysi’s hand as she watched the Goddess. She
disliked the beautiful but hard looking woman and was supremely uncomfortable with the fact
that she was holding her sleeping cousin. The idea of Muirne waking was a comforting one
though; the young girl was starting to worry.
The dragon-child stirred, her awareness sliding into a place where in seconds, she'd dreamed a
child's dream of being alone in a terrifying place she'd never been before, of asking where her
Ammah and Addah were...and forgetting their name when asked who they were. Dreams of fire
and black-skinned beasts grunting in a language that sounded rotten and full of phlegmy
syllables...then fingers on her cheek that seemed to be young, then old...and they were cold. The
Black and Silver stands of her soul seemed to give way to Elven Jade and an ancient, newly
awakened gift began to swell, then embrace...something...and told Muirne absolutely nothing
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about the soul her own sought.
An ear-piercing shriek rocked the child's body and jade eyes snapped open and locked onto those
that were peering down at her. The gift of SoulHealing came early to the descendants of Kyra
Eldredae and Muirne had been getting bits and pieces of 'readings' for almost a year...and hadn't
once told her mother. It was fun to be nosey, find out things about people that they never knew
had been discovered, but this? Muirne Badb Catha had just had an unpleasant surprise. The
woman that held her had no soul at all...or more precise...nothing BUT soul...not a slice as so
many people had, not a complicated tapestry of memories, hopes and dreams woven with the
essence that gave them life; THIS creature was the essence of life and death at its purest...and she
scared the hell out of Muirne...for this child knew exactly who held her. She was the child of a
Black Dragon Emperor, a race of warring destroyers...and they well knew the Morrigan.
"I know you..." Muirne did her best to calm her shaking body, "Gran Ill’harn Callan told me of
you...and he told me I don't belong to you...none of us do...I belong to Flame and Chaos..."
The pale-haired child tried to find her cloak of bravado and arrogance...and found she must have
misplaced it, for nothing seemed to be protecting her from the fear she felt.
Nuuruhuine smiled reassuringly at the blonde girl. "Hush child. There is no need to fear me.
Why would I want to harm one of my own?" Slim white fingers ran over Muirne's cheek. She
hugged her tightly, her voice whispering as she did so "Your Gran Ill’harn was wrong, little one.
You are mine, as much as your cousins, your aunt. Haven't you sensed the darkness growing
inside you?" Deliberately she tugged on the onyx threads of dark magic within the dragon-elf's
soul. "This part of you is mine."
"Muirne? Muirne, are you alright?" Drysi asked, her hand still tightly clasping her twins as she
stepped forward.
"Your cousin is fine. You all will be" the Goddess said smoothly, releasing the little girl. "Get
some rest, my dears, but don't wander too far. There's all sorts of predators lurking in these
woods that you would make a tasty tidbit for."
***
The clearing was empty. A mixed blessing really, meaning they didn’t have to come out fighting,
but the girls had obviously been moved on. Remmy moved out of the way for those coming from
behind and studied the ground, quietly assessing who had come through the portal and how, and
who had greeted them. “She must be carrying one of the girls,” he murmured to Gre, “I only
count three sets of footprints coming away from the portal.”
Silverthorn braced herself against a tree with one hand, her breathing ragged. For a moment
when she looked across at the rangers her eyes were obsidian orbs without white, pupil or iris,
then she regained control and slowly they began to shift, jade bleeding into the darkness. "Which
one was being carried though, and why?" she murmured.
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The dark-haired elf shook her head and straightened. For a moment she stared up at the
darkening sky. The pallid disc of the moon was already visible, but it was the crimson glow low
on the horizon that had caught her attention. "And the time of the Blood Moon approaches, how
appropriate" the S'Hean Queen said sardonically.
Kneeling, S'araia examined the tracks. She'd learned to use magic to tell the ages of the people
she was tracking, useful when she was going after Auriana's followers and needed to have a
rough idea of who she was up against. "The two smaller sets, the girls are the same age, so that
must be your twins, Your Majesty... I'm guessing she carries your daughter then, Lady Badb
Catha..." The Captain rose and eyed the tracks as they met with others. "They were met here..."
Sahar broke away from the darkness, returning to a form that the others could see, her face void
of expression. “The shadows whisper there were nine, three children, six adults, all women. The
ones that met the women on this side were dark. The shadows say they have been seen around
here before.”
A horrible suspicion crossed Silverthorn's mind. All women? dark? "Bitch!" Her fist slammed
into the tree as undiluted rage exploded within the elf. "If she so much as touches a hair on their
heads..."
Mira was crouching, fingers tracing footprints that belonged to Linnis, her eyes glowing in the
murk of twilight, her thoughts unreadable. The dragon-elf never flinched at Silverthorn's
outburst, never offered a word of support or comfort. Her Rage was too near, too easily would
the coin of Black and Silver flip now, it was best she remained as silent as possible.
"Well then," Mira continued to trace the outline of Linnis' footprints with a light finger almost
dreamily, "Tell us, Sahar..." The dragon-elf's quiet voice had an odd, dual toned quality, her
usual half-Elven vocal chords were choked with feelings of loss, fear and Madness, "Where then,
do the shadows say they are? They will be making camp, the shadows will be watching. What do
they say?"
Mira's voice trailed off, already she was taking slow, measured steps away from where the rest
stood, following the progress of the footsteps, her lips parted slightly, her breath coming in soft
pants...a lion scenting its prey.
Sahar watched Mira warily, weighing the pros and cons before finally throwing everything to
hell. These were their children; she had no right to make such decisions.
“They are well ahead of us, this all must have been planned for quite awhile, it was no simple
stumbling across one another, the others were waiting here when the girls were brought
through.” The shadow woman tilted her mind and shook her head, “Their words are becoming
garbled from worry over the paler children and the red moon.”
"It was planned alright,” Silverthorn said coldly. She seemed unaware of the faint trickle of
blood than ran down her hand from where the rough bark had cut it. "Stupid of me, but I never
thought to question precisely why those three should be taken before, but when you consider
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where they have been brought the answer is obvious. Three young, untrained Badb Catha
females." Her gaze met Mira's. "Nuuruhuine."
Remmy looked up from the tracks somewhere ahead of Mira and studied the alien sky. “Milady
D’Riel,” he said softly, “the hour grows late. Are we to set up camp or follow?” Pale green eyes
shifted to watch his Queen and the Lady Badb Catha.
"Follow" Silverthorn replied, "We shall need to be wary. Hostile terrain takes on a whole new
meaning in the Tauremorna. Nothing will be as it seems." She glanced around the small group.
"Ready? Then let's be off. We've tarried here too long already."
***
Rhagi's head came up. The boys had been dozing in a puppy pile to keep warm. He knew that
voice. Or he thought he did. "Galain?" He shook the others. "Wake up, it's Galain. Well, it could
be Galain. Or it could be a trick."
He wriggled out from under the blanket and headed for the door. "Is that really you? How did
you get here? Have you come to take us home?" Focus, he told himself. It was probably another
trick. "How do I know it's you?"
"Rhagi!" Galain's voice was filled with relief and pleasure. "Oh gods I'm glad it's you. Yes, it's
really me. And yes, I've come to take you home. Well, if I can remember how to get from here to
my room and... wait. I need a plan first..." Galain's voice trailed off. He needed to be able to
contact his wives and all he could get was a fuzzy connection that drove him crazy. He looked up
sharply at Rhagi.
"How do you know it's me? I don't know... ask me a question. Poke me if you want. How are the
others? Caolan? The twins?"
A dark head poked out of the pile, jade eyes regarded the blonde elf in a sleepy fashion. "Doro
'Lain? That you?" Caolan asked in a voice fuzzy with sleep. Then his eyes brightened as
awareness kicked in. "We can go home?" the boy asked in a hopeful tone, "please? I don't like it
here very much."
It really did sound like Galain, but Rhagi wasn't going to take that chance. One thing he thought
about Samara, she didn't seem to know anything about fun. "How did you teach me to say thank
you at Addah's?"
"Godsdammit," Galain replied readily, waving at Caolan. "Yes, it's me." He winked at Rhagi in
the dim light. "It was godsdammit," he repeated.
Then he sighed. He'd found them all, except Fechine.
"We're going home. Not right away though. Is Fechine kept here too?"
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Morgan looked up at Galain with sad eyes. He had felt a slight pull from 'Lain, and knew it was
him, without having to use the abilities he had gained from his Mother. "No... That wicked
woman took him away and we haven't seen him since." Morgan blinked. "Why are you here?
Where's Mother? Where's Father?"
Rhagi flashed a quick grin at Galain that faded at Morgan's words. Their parents hadn't come for
them. His Addah hadn't come. Maybe Silverthorn had told him not to. She was polite to him, but
she didn't like him very much. But no, she'd want Fechine back... even Samara wanted Fechine
more than she did Rhagi. Morgan and Taylon and Caolan, their parents loved them, and loved
each other. Rhagi's heart was becoming a darker place, as he got older.
But regardless of how he felt, he had an obligation to the other boys. "Dera Sammy said we
could see Fechine later. She might bring him."
Galain immediately was sorry when the boys realized their parents hadn't come, that it was just
him. He touched Rhagi though, gently.
"Your mother is coming," he said quietly. Then he looked at the twins and Caolan. "Your fathers
are coming. I just got hurried along a bit and arrived first." And then he blanched. Dera Sammy?!
He shook his head and went still, wondering where Samara might be keeping Fechine. The boy,
by virtue of his appearance, his age... he would be the one Samara would want most. His
stomach twisted as he remembered the fleeting glimpse he'd had of the boy when he'd first been
brought here.
"Father's coming?" Caolan whispered in a voice painful with hope. All the raven-haired boy
wanted was to see his parents and his sister, to be held by them and to know that everything was
all right again. He missed them all so much. "You'll find Fechine too, won't you? We haven't
seen him since we arrived. Dera Sammy had the Nuru’kh-ai take him away. He will be alright,
won't he?"
Galain handed the small ball of handfire in his hand to Rhagi.
"Here, have a little light for the moment," he said, shutting the door behind him and creating
another ball of handfire. The boys questions and Galain's worry for them had him forgetting his
own headache and frustrations for the moment and he felt the distinct need to simply stay here
with them for a little while and bring some sort of comfort to them.
"Yes, your father's coming," he told Caolan. "And I'm going to find Fechine too. I saw him when
I first got here, but we didn't get to speak long." He went silent, just hating to hear them call
Samara an aunt.
"Fechine will be okay," he finally said, realizing it was just about all he could say after all.
"Now, what have you all been doing in here? Just sleeping? Well gods... let's play 'Pin the
Handfire on Morgan's Butt' instead, or we can play marbles using my handfire instead. You guys
know how to make it? Did you know you can make different colours?"
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And on Galain spoke, determining he could return to his own room much later. If Samara even
cared about where he was and what he was doing he'd deal with that later.
"Yes, you can make puce handfire," he answered Taylon.
***
Morning dawned in spectacular shades of light, the first of the dual suns bathing the City of
Corin in a golden glow that belied the ruin of the marketplace and the death that stained the
streets. Y’Roden was already awake, unused to waking without Silverthorn in his bed, and he
had wandered down to the taproom. A tankard of ale in hand he stood in the open doorway,
watching the sunrise over the city he had lived in most of his life. Emerald eyes had a faraway
look in them, the worries of the world weighing heavily on his broad shoulders. Thoughts of his
children, his wife and his people had kept him awake, and haunted him even now.
The next stage in the plan was going to be difficult to execute. After he and Fadil had seared the
tunnel clean of dead bodies there remained the problem of debris. Rock and sand had filled the
tunnels in places, creating natural walls that would have to be dug through. Reece had scouted
ahead, and the prognosis wasn’t good. Though, at least, he had no reports of carnage further
in…. as of yet. The Dragons were far too large to be used in such delicate proceedings, that ruled
them out. There was only one SandShadow on premises, and he only a half-blood. To hurry
things along they would need one of pure blood, perhaps the Master SandShadow himself, Malik
Faris.
It was there, in the growing warmth of early morning that Ro decided, he would send for the
Leader of the Obsidian Nomads. Tipping up his tankard the King took a long drink, and lowered
it to find Cully coming down the stairs.
“Calima Almare Cully, I’m glad to see you. I have a job for you and your twin today.”
The titian haired elf rubbed sleepily at his eyes and yawned, blinking sleepily at his uncle.
“Calima Almare Doro… Can I find some breakfast first? I think Glory is on his way down.”
"Down... I'm down," said twin spoke up directly behind Cully. He was just a little too awake this
morning and peered over his brother's shoulder at his uncle. "What's that you got there? Ale?
Well all righty!" He dropped into a chair opposite Y'Roden and then stretched slowly.
“Gutte Moor Glory,” Ro greeted, “I need the two of you to saddle up after breakfast. We are
going to need the assistance of Malik Faris if we are to get through that tunnel in any goodly
amount of time.” The King moved out of the doorway and seated himself. “I’ll send a letter
along with you. This time of year he is generally somewhere near the Oasis, if not at the Palace
itself, so he shouldn’t be too difficult to find.”
"Fine. I think I'll have an extra big breakfast then and no ale," Glory said agreeably.
The rise of the first sun broke through the window of Akav's room bathing it in a warm
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comforting glow that slowly brought the once tired Black up out of his much needed rest. The
battles and tunnelling had taken its toll on him along with the unusual heat and humidity of
Corin. He longed for a proper dragon sized bath but contented himself with the washbasin
provided in the room before he headed down to the taproom.
He noted Y'Roden and a couple Alcarin boys among others as he entered the room. The sight
that had him chuckling to himself was the crumpled heap of Rani Al’Trekis slumped where she'd
sat the night before sound asleep. "Your S'Hean bodyguard seems to have lost the battle for
alertness Your Majesty." spoken with much amusement to Y'Roden as he sat down to a first meal
of the day.
“A ride sounds good to me,” Cully yawned as Darec set a plate of fruits, cold meat, cheese and
bread in the middle of the table. A jug of Mai’Tus juice and a couple of glasses followed shortly
and the titian haired twin poured himself a glass before reaching for a chunk of bread. “I haven’t
been to the Obsidian Basin for a long time.”
“The Basin?” Rhodry asked as he clattered down the stairs, “someone paying Malik a visit? Ale,
thanks Darec.” Taking a seat next to the slumped Rani he grinned and gave her bottom a friendly
pat.
“Morning,” Ro greeted his old friend, ignoring the fact that he was fondling the Captain, “I’m
sending the twins here to see if he will come give us a hand with the tunnel. There was a lot of
damage done to it in Tenobrous.”
Startled, fully alert though disoriented, the dishevelled Captain jerked to wakefulness and
slapped Rhodry hard. “You lecherous dog.” She would have left the table but was neatly pinned
between Akavian and Rhodry. She sat stunned among the group of men that seemed to be
fighting full-fledged guffaws and her cheeks flushed scarlet.
“I prefer rogue,” Rhodry said brightly, “it has a nicer ring to it. Cad maybe? Lecherous dog just
doesn’t seem to suit, as I have yet to stick my nose between your thighs and sniff you in
greeting.”
Cully coughed and spit a mouthful of Mai’Tus juice across the floor, choking while Ro pounded
him on the back between bouts of laughter.
Spluttering in her embarrassment Rani glared at the table of men no longer seeing her king or
lords but just men enjoying their amusement at her expense. “Rogue? Cad? You should rise to
such levels Rhodry Arketh; the change would be an improvement. And if you value that life you
have you will keep your nose out of places it has no business.” And she squirmed in place
looking for a way to exit that wasn’t there. Cold green eyes levelled on Cully first before passing
on to them all.
Akavian took up a bit of pseudo honour and smiled, “I take it this cad of a lecherous rogue dog is
annoying you, My Lady?” he fought hard to keep from adding his own amusement to it. “Shall I
defend your honour?” as he slid out of the seat standing in a posture feigning her defence.
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Rani took the opportunity to exit the table and pulled a dagger from her boot pressing to Akav’s
throat. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself, thank you. That is of course IF there was
anything or anyone here worth defending myself from.” She made sure the presence of her
dagger was clear and felt. Akav just grinned, letting a layer of dragonscale armour slide between
his throat and her dagger.
Gent clomped down the stairs pausing at the sight, a grin spreading across his face. “I’d watch
your back, my nephew says she’s a fine shot,” he chuckled out as he stepped onto the floor,
sliding his favourite dagger into its sheath.
“Ro, I have some news for you from Kit.” With a grin he reached over Glory's head and snatched
a piece of cheese.
A laughing Rhodry reached up and grabbed Rani around the waist, yanking her down into his lap
and grasping her wrist in an iron grip. “Come now love,” he grinned, “There is no use denying it.
You’ve been in love with me since the moment you set eyes on me. No need to threaten Prince
Blackthorn just to get a rise out of me. I was rising already.” Before she could do so much as
open her mouth to answer, the newly reinstated Lord Arketh captured her lips in a hard kiss.
“Oh?” Y’Roden looked up from his first aide mission on Cully and met Gent’s forest green gaze,
quite ignoring the scuffle at the other end of the table. “What news? Have they found Fechine?
Rhagi? Any of them?”
Melaina was right behind Argent, her eyes still weary, despite the rest she'd gotten. Emotional
weariness would take more than a night or five of rest to get past. The blonde made her way
towards the table, grey eyes looking up to her adopted brother as she waited to hear the news as
well.
***
“Cobwebs are mighty thick around here,” An’Thaya commented to Ghetsuhm as she pushed
open the doors to an abandoned Tavern. Or at least, what had passed for one in this place. They
had arrived at the Outpost several hours before, tired, worn, but wary. The others were close by,
driving out bats and spiders as they came across them, reclaiming the place for temporary
habitation.
Drawing a dagger the Amazon cut through the thick webbing that blocked the door and pushed
her way inside, then paused to let her eyes adjust. “The people here certainly left in a hurry,” she
commented, eyeing strewn belongings, cutlery and bowls still on the tables, dust-coated bottles
and cobweb-laced glasses. Her emerging memory told her that this had been the last of the Elven
outposts, that her brother had come back some time ago to take them home. It revealed nothing
more, however. There seemed to be a lock on her mind when it came to her location and
activities at the time he was here.
Something did click however, and she turned her head to look at Ghet. “You… you are my
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brother’s lover? Why would he let you come here without him?”
Ghet hung back uneasily. "But the cobwebs are old, right? Really, really old? All the turkeysized spiders got bored and left? Why don't we ever run across spider-sized turkeys, that's what
I'd like to know." Okay, she was nervous and babbling and it seemed they'd got to that point. She
sighed, and took An'Thaya's hand. She might have been exasperated, confused, sometimes more,
with the other redhead over the last few years, but she still loved her. "We need to have a talk.
We should probably sit down. Oh, gods, it's filthy, let's stand."
She drew a deep breath. "I used to be your brother's lover. We broke up about... thirty years ago?
But we have a five-year-old son. You'll probably remember why later. Samara has our son, that's
what matters. But I have to tell you... An'Thaya, one of the reasons Ro left me is... I'm married to
Galain. We're both married to Galain."
Adarin kept to himself, helping dispel the cobwebs and unnaturally large and disgusting
creatures that inhabited the building. He had chuckled at Ghetsuhm's words and then moved
directly away when he realized she was going to try and explain a few things to Tay.
Emerald gems narrowed… Tay had never taken well to being touched by strangers, and despite
what evidence said otherwise, the Amazon didn’t know this woman. She tensed, and then the
words filtered through the haze. The shape of her face altered slightly as the jaw clenched and
sheer rage turned verdant irises so deep a green they were nearly black. The one fortunate thing
in the entire situation was that it was Tay’s fist that connected with Ghetsuhm’s face, not the
dagger she had been using to cut through the spider webs.
“LIAR,” she hissed, “Why the hell would Galain do that to me?” Yet a lot of things that made
absolutely no sense at all were beginning to take on an entire new light. Her relationship with
Adarin, for instance, and the hurtful fact that Galain had never been faithful anyway. The better
question was… why would An’Thaya tolerate it? Not to mention, why was Ghetsuhm still alive?
Given one word to describe the Amazon Queen, more than a few would chose deadly.
The darkness seemed to hem in and swallow her, the uncontrollable shaking no longer
completely attributed to the bone numbing cold. Her head started to pound and memories she
wanted nothing to do with started pressing in on her conscious mind.
Adarin reacted rapidly the instant Tay punched Ghetsuhm. He moved quickly toward the
Amazon and then he stopped. He was absolutely at a loss and moved quickly to check on Ghet,
simultaneously reaching out toward Tay both physically and along their bond. If she decked him
too he'd quite understand.
Ghet reached out a hand to stay Adarin, grateful for the impulse but also needing to stand-alone
now. The pain in her face, the little clicking noise when she moved her jaw, the passion in those
green eyes... yeah, she was just going to need a minute. So many of her own memories rushed at
her, old pains she had buried deep. Yelled conversations with Shadow, and Anelain, that refrain:
how could you?
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She stepped back, staring at An'Thaya, her mind racing. This was not, she was coming to realize,
the same woman she knew. Well, it was and it wasn't. She should be careful. But she was also
angry, grieving, stretched more than she thought she could bear. "Because you were dead! He
thought you were dead. We all believed you were dead. He and I bonded. I still believe that was
the only thing that kept him alive." She sucked in a deep breath, trying to banish the memory of
Galain's pain and despair. She didn't want to explain this. It wouldn't be fair, because it would
inevitably be colored by her own perspective. She wanted An'Thaya to remember on her own.
Ghet didn't know what words had been spoken between the other two when An'Thaya had
returned. "We were friends, Thaya. We are friends. I wish you could remember."
Breathing was near impossible, emotional agony constricted Tay’s chest and twisted her guts.
Friends? The Amazon’s features contorted, her eyes betraying nothing but naked hatred for the
space of a heartbeat. If Adarin had not been between them she might very well have buried the
dagger that was imprinting the shape of its hilt onto her palm into Ghetsuhm’s heart. Friends?
“You stay away from me,” she spat out through lips pulled tight with reined in homicidal urges.
With some effort she sheathed the dagger, meeting both sets of eyes on her with a cold stare,
then turning on a boot heel and forcing herself to walk back out the door. A few minutes alone…
she desperately needed it before she carved up whoever got into her path. All at once she ached
for Galain’s touch, yet wanted to rip his heart out. Even so, he was the only one that had ever
dared approach her at times like these… and for good reason.
Gods Sy’Rish… what have we done to each other? Where are you?
Waved off by Ghetsuhm and having stared back into a set of emerald eyes so alien in their
expression Adarin retreated, almost folding in on himself. He felt sick inside and a gnawing
anxiety began to grow at his heart and mind. He looked at Ghetsuhm, looking
uncharacteristically old.
"Who was that owner of that flaming fist of death?" he joked weakly, his voice sounding flat.
Unlike his nephew the Elen King would not dare go after Tay. He turned away from Ghetsuhm,
something inside him crumbling.
Ghet watched after Thaya, tears standing out in her eyes. "Why does nobody ever listen when I
say that?" she muttered darkly. She raised her face to Adarin and tried to produce a smile.
"Taking everything into account, I think that went quite well, don't you?" She was worried about
everyone here, but she was particularly fond of the Elen king, and she didn't like what
An'Thaya's behaviour was doing to him. She hugged him briefly, and then winced. "I don't think
Thaya's ever hit me before," she said, probing her facial bones gently. "That's going to leave a
mark."
Adarin could only smile and returned Ghetsuhm's hug very gently.
"Well it's going to bruise up very nicely," he said softly.
Shadow watched the scene with a cold dispassionate gaze. That was the An’Thaya she
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remembered, the one she had met long ago outside of a temple from hell, fought beside when
trying to save a mutual friend from his own stupidity in trusting a false heart. That was her
Ad’Vere.
“You’re lucky she didn’t rip your heart out and feed it to you,” the forest elf observed as she
moved on around the room, pausing to look up the stairs. “It would have been her right by the
laws she was raised by, if I’m not mistaken.”
Shadow turned to tilt her head at Ghet, “To some that was less than what you deserve,” she
shook her head, “I will never understand the minds of humans, you should have waited for her
memory to come back on its own, it would have been far less painful for you.”
The look Ghet gave Shadow was as close to cold as she could come. "And if it didn't come back
until we found Galain? How much worse for her would that have been? I'm trying to do the best
I can under somewhat trying circumstances."
The forest elf shrugged ignoring the cold look, “Her memory usually comes back in Galain’s
presence, it has done so at least twice before under as pressing conditions as this. You just have
to remember that she reverted to an age when none of us existed, she has already come through
several millennia,” Shadow sighed, “she has had more years with him and there are probably
more painful memories, she doesn’t need to have the most painful brought so sharply to the
front. Doing so could only cause more damage.”
The passive expression on her face softened, she knew precisely what it was like to have
something from her past that she didn’t remember, come out of no where and blind side her. She
had a feeling that Ghet did as well.
“I think, I’ll go see what Aya is up to.”
***
Without thinking Gent pulled Mel over into a brotherly embrace then rested his chin on her head,
it wasn’t much unlike what he typically did with his twin when he got by with it.
“She checked in yesterday, I haven’t heard from her yet this morning, she seems busy.
An’Thaya, Galain, the S’Hean Ranger that went with and Kit were caught in an ambush coming
back from one of the human settlements. Samara has Galain, and Aya suffered a bump to the
head that messed with her memories a bit, it appears she was beating up on Callan and calling
him Reece until she figured out it wasn’t him…” The corner of his mouth twitched up in wry
amusement before he went on, “They should be at an Elven outpost near Samara now. It looks
like they’ll all be home soon. Kit plans on telling the others what happened here with the girls
after they’ve retrieved the boys. I’m sure she’ll be in contact the instant they have them.”
Mel relaxed when Gent rested his chin on her head. She thought about smacking him for it, but
realized she needed the very comforting feeling of just being held. The fact that Samara now had
her father didn't sit very well with the half elf, and a tear fought its way out of her eyes and down
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her cheek. She really hoped this was what they meant by things getting worse before they got
better... She wasn't sure she could take much more worrying about anyone...
A snort of laughter came from the stairs as Reece entered the room; “She didn’t stab him? Damn
lucky.” The dark eyed Mercenary didn’t envy the Dragon Emperor one bit. Nearly five hundred
years in Tay Terne’s company had been a hair-raising experience. He still had to pause and think
about who people were taking about when they said the name An’Thaya D’Riel.
“The Eastern Outpost then,” Ro said after cracking a grin at Reece, “gods… they are close.” The
S’Hean King frowned, “Samara has Galain?” He suffered a moment of concern for both his
sister and Ghetsuhm. Both were well aware what the Demoness was capable of… and yes, he
had a slight tinge of pity for Galain. No matter how much he hated his brother-in-law, he
wouldn’t wish that sort of torture on anyone.
Gent chuckled, "No, she didn't stab him, at least I don't think she did..." for a moment his forest
green eyes took on a far-a-way look before refocusing on the room, "She did try but he had
scales in place. Ghet is fairing under the conditions."
Ro chuckled softly, not surprised by either fact. An’Thaya was incredibly volatile, and Callan
although honourable, could be incredibly maddening. His expression changed marginally at the
mention of Ghet and he nodded a silent thank you to the Shroudling King. The half-elf’s eyes
took on a far away expression for a moment as he peeled a Mai’Tus fruit, the weight of the day
already setting into his mind.
Meanwhile, Cully finished downing a glass of juice and wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.
That Rhodry fellow was something else. One-eyed fiend from hell. “Alright,” he nudged his
brother, “we had best get ready to go.” Grabbing a purple fruit the young Elf pushed his chair
back and headed for the stairs. “Make sure you bring plenty of water,” he called back to Glory,
“you’ll need it.”
Reece settled into the chair Cully had abandoned and dug into breakfast. He paused for a
moment to stare at Rhodry and Rani, “Think they’ll come up for air soon?” he asked Ro.
The King startled out of his reverie and looked over at the pair, wondering at what point Rani
would finally get that wrist loose and take out Rhodry’s other eye. “Oh… eventually, though he
may not need any by the time she is finished with him.”
“Well,” Reece said slowly, “I guess there are worse ways to go.”
***
On the premise of lighting one of the watch fires, An’Thaya made her way up onto the walls that
surrounded the outpost, putting distance between herself and the others. A weaving of magic had
the fire blazing in short order, but she gave no sign of returning. Instead, the Amazon stared into
the depths of the flames, her hair a living reflection that danced on the breeze blowing through
the forever night of Tenobrous.
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“Son of a bitch…” she murmured, “How long did you wait Galain? Did you even bother to look
for my body?” Tay knew the answers even without the memories that slowly leaked through into
her present. Three faces haunted her thoughts like the Wraiths that moved through the mists here.
Months of repeated rape and torture, both body and soul, passed along through the trio like some
favoured toy passed among friends. Gareth… Galain’s Father, her captor. He had shamed but not
broken her. Between them he and his Mistress had broken An’Thaya’s bond to her husband,
taken her so close to the point of death that he had believed her to be.
Avathar had brought her back, and he had been the one to break her. The bastard had worn
Galain’s face, twisted her perceptions and tried to force a child on her. The length of time he had
tortured her before that was a blur… and the nature of it buried beneath madness. Afterwards…
crimson agony filled her vision… wings and scales… freedom… for a time.
So… that is where you came from.
Aye, the Crimson answered softly. From your madness came my birth.
But even you couldn’t protect me.
Not forever…
Iavan had been the last. Keeping her caged like an animal in Alcarinque. It was there that Galain
had found her, broken and quite mad. With sanity came unbearable shame, for him to have seen
her that way…
I never told him about Gareth and Avathar…
Why should you? Where was he while they were taking everything from you?
In her arms… passing grief… finding happiness and joy…
And why didn’t you kill her?
Because… I didn’t have the strength… or the will. I am not An’Thaya D’Riel Alcarin… I am …
just a shadow… nothing more.
Shadow wasn’t sure why she didn’t bother using the emerald thread that stood out so blazingly
on the tapestry in her mind. She knew the other woman wouldn’t be able to feel it. Shadow
silently snorted, she didn’t know that at all anymore, there had been quite a few things that had
changed. So, instead she tracked the Amazon down the mundane way. She followed the light of
the fire. Mentally she was thanking both women for, unknowingly, giving her something else to
think about. Sooner or later she was going to have to spill the beans and tell Bran about what
happened.
Let him worry about his son first. She scolded herself as she climbed the steps; not bothering
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about keeping her foot falls quiet. As a matter-of-fact she purposely made more noise than was
needed, or what she was accustomed too, giving the other woman time to do any sort of
adjustment to her appearance as was needed.
“Aya?” She called out as she neared the top of the stairs.
The redhead was actually relieved to hear Shadow’s voice. It was now a familiar sound, one well
remembered, and yet again her fingers stroked the feather that had been woven into her hair
millennia ago. The nickname grounded her to reality, reminded her that there were reasons she
couldn’t fall apart. Too many people relied on her for too many things these days. She was no
longer that wild untamed Amazon Galain had met and charmed into loving him. That woman
had died at the hands of three men, and someone completely different had come out the other
side. Perhaps she was no longer what Galain wanted or needed, but she didn’t have the strength
to let him go. Adarin loved the woman she had become, Ghet considered her a friend. To change
what she was… would change everything.
“I’m here,” she called out, “over here Shady.”
The forest elf grinned at the familiar shortening of her name and followed the voice, grateful for
the recognizing tone. She stopped beside the watch fire and crossed her arms; forest green eyes
scanned the darkened horizon.
“A person could lose their mind gazing into that blackness, forget so many things…but only for
a little while. Then it all comes back to bite you in the ass.” The corner of her mouth curled up in
her unusual grin and she jerked a thumb over her finger. "That was one hell-of-a punch."
Shadows eyes sparkled impishly in the firelight.
“Does it have to bite quite so hard?” Tay asked dryly, “and thank you. Tager always told me, if
you are going to do something, put your whole heart into it. No use wasting the effort if you
aren’t going to take it to the extreme.”
The Amazon’s blazing curls tumbled about with a shake of her head and she turned to meet
Shadow’s gaze. “What… have I done to myself? How the hell did things end up like this?” A
pause crept up on them and she looked away. “I feel… like I am on top of a house of cards… and
one wrong move will bring them all tumbling down. How do you love someone so completely,
yet hate him or her with every fibre of your being? Gads… I disgust myself.”
Well away from the smouldering Amazon stood two figures on the catwalk that ringed the high
walls. Once again, sire and son watched the darkness and watched the thermal patterns of
anything living. Callan had seen An’Thaya’s fist connect with Ghetsuhm and had involuntarily
winced. He’d been on the receiving end of that swing before and while he was certain An’Thaya
had put far more ‘oomph’ into punching him...a couple of jaw teeth had been lost the last
time...he still knew that had to hurt, and in more ways than one.
A soft, noncommittal grunt later, Callan had simply shrugged and found his way to the highest
point of the outpost, a habit of his when he preferred to be alone and had taken up the watch,
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only to be joined minutes later by a silent Yarwin. Topaz eyes watched the thermal outlines of
Shadow and An’Thaya a moment, then turned back to his son.
“I do hope you’re not up here to apologize.” Callan stated and angled his head while he folded
his arms across his chest.
Half-formed words of apology died in that instant, Yarwin’s jaws snapped shut to bite back the
words.
“I don’t expect it, nor do I want it. It is your nature, Yarwin, I want no apologies for doing what
our kind do when they feel the threads of a soul-mate dwindle.” Callan had almost added, ‘and
die...’ But Rachel, to the best of his knowledge, was safe and intact, it was an illusion, a clever
nightmare that made his son feel lost and unbalanced.
“Oh...aye...and I suppose that’s a good enough excuse. But try telling that to them? Try
explaining that to the Men and mixed bloods in the Keep that suffered during your Madness.
Explain that to Mira who watched you try to break Vanya in half. I can’t just say, ‘that’s what
my kind do’ simply because half my blood is yours. I will not.”
Callan’s eyes narrowed, a brief spark of Rage that faded fast lit them for a heartbeat, “Oh, I’m
sure Mira is learning all about the Madness...” Glittering ice-blue eyes flicked to Bran’s thermal
outline in the darkness, “Be thankful your mother’s blood grants you control she does not have
and let us both hope she is faring better than I think she is. And as for what ‘your kind’ is,
Yarwin of the Shai’ay, you will have to learn that as much as you hate me, as much as you hate
Black Dragons, that Flame and Chaos still marks you as theirs. They don’t much care what blood
you claim.”
Callan watched as his son’s jaw clenched, turned white, his fingers curling into a fist. Lapis and
Topaz remained locked on each other for several quiet moments before Yarwin looked out into
the distance the quietly muttered,
“Perhaps...but I’m not sure I claim them...”
Shadow listened in silence, ‘hearing’ things that hadn’t been said as well. Contrary to popular
belief, the Silverleaf Matron was sensible; it was simply something she didn’t often show.
She spread her hands out, “I think it’s one of the secrets of life, and not many realize that it can
happen.” Her hands went up to what was left of the braid in her hair, her fingers working out the
plats and knots in the dual colored knee length locks. She had loved in the manner of what
An‘Thaya said, it wasn’t something that one walked with lightly.
“Don’t say you disgust yourself. You are a strong woman, An’Thaya D’Riel, and even strong
women do things that don’t make sense. You fell in love with a male that has more short
comings than Hell has levels, but when you love, it doesn’t often matter.” The forest elf turned
her eyes back towards the darkness, “This is just a test in life. That house you’re standing on,
would it truly improve things if it didn’t fall?” Forest green eyes turned back to watch the
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smaller woman’s face, “Sometimes the only way to go forward is to go back, sometimes the only
way to go up is to fall.
“You’ve had a rare gift given to you, even if it did come from Samara’s lackeys. You’ve gotten a
chance to return to a place in your mind when you were innocent, and with that thinking, you’ve
had memories filtered back through. You’re thinking and reflecting and questioning, its
something that you’ll have a need of, I think,” she felt the familiar dull throb that came with
Sight, but she purposely ignored it, focusing on her friend. The corner of her lip curled up, “And
the reason why it bites so hard is to make you think…I’m sounding a little like Chez, aren’t I.”
“A gift? Or a curse?” Tay sighed, her eyes watching the movements of Shadow’s fingers in the
braid, “You are right though…” A wry smile turned the edge of her mouth, “You do sound a
little like Chez, and I needed to hear it. I need to step back and assess my life. Sometime soon…
Now isn’t the time.” The Amazon went silent for a moment, “My Father is dead… isn’t he.” It
wasn’t a question, merely saying it aloud.
“Tallin killed him…” the redhead’s voice trailed off into silence as she let herself remember.
“I’m sorry Shady, I need to be alone for awhile.” She briefly embraced the other woman before
heading off along the wall, seeking the solace of darkness, to finally grieve for the father that had
been taken from her for the second time… the last time.
Shadow nodded in partial understanding, and watched as the Amazon walked away. The forest
elf turned away, the movement bringing a hiss through clenched teeth at the pain in her side. By
the light of the signal fire, she inspected the wound before reaching into a small pouch attached
to her hip and pulling out a silvery green leaf.
The forest elf popped the nightshade leaf into her mouth and began chewing. Glad that she was
alone as she did so, the last thing she wanted was someone interfering in natural instincts that
they wouldn’t understand. Spitting the chewed foliage back into her hand. Un-tucking that side
of her shirt she smoothed the plaster like substance over the wound, hissing again at the stinging
sensation. It would do for now.
"Isn't life wonderful?" Bran said sardonically to Adarin. The elf rolled his shoulders, but nothing
could ease the tension that tied his muscles up in knots. "Gods, at this rate Samara won't need to
do a thing. She just has to watch us destroy ourselves." The fair-haired elf ran a hand through his
long hair and sighed. "I'm so tired," he admitted. "All I want is to get my son back and go home."
The other elf was right and Adarin gave Bran a wan smile.
"I'm sure we've been giving her a fine show," he said and then he placed a gentle hand on Bran's
forearm. "We're going to find him. We're so close. Maybe this is that last hellish 'bump' before
we finally break through and get to her keep."
Ghet moved away from Adarin and Bran quietly. She needed to be alone before she cracked. She
made her way up the stairs of the tavern, not something she would normally have done in a
building abandoned for over a century, found herself a dark and dirty room, curled in a corner
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and stared at the darkness. Her heart ached, and she longed for Galain to comfort her. He was
still, after all this time, the only one who understood. All the old words, the old doubts, came
flooding back at her. She was a mistake. Her love for Galain, the only thing that kept her alive,
the only thing she had left to her, was wrong. It would have been so much easier if Y'Roden had
just let her die. But no, even that would have been too late. She would still have seen the faces of
her friends turn away in disgust.
She wept in near silence, despair eating at her. She wanted her husband. She wanted her son to
be safe. She wanted her friends, she wanted to be loved. But there was nothing she wouldn't give
up to keep Galain alive.
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Chapter 8
Sea green eyes squinted in the blazing light of Whispin’s dual suns, a shadow falling across them
as Cully shaded his eyes with one hand. The horse he was mounted on snorted and tossed its
onyx colored head in a wave of glistening mane. On most sides, as far as the eye could see,
stretched the endless black sands of the Obsidian Basin. The sunshine played off the fine grains
in such a fashion that it cast rainbows of vibrant colours that danced across the dunes and pooled
in shallow valleys, wavering in the intense heat. Such was not the case for the direction in which
the twins were facing. There, in the distance, shone the Oasis.
Only the top of the valley could be seen from where the Alcarin boys sat, a line of palm trees and
thick lush grass that struck out into the sand, staggered, and faded out. Cully might have thought
it the beginnings of a mirage, had he not been here before. “Well,” he commented to Glory, “this
is the place. Race you there.” With a grin he tapped his mount’s heaving sides, laughing at the
great black beast sprung into a gallop, massive strides eating up the distance between them and
the Oasis.
"Cheater!" Glory yelled, urging his own horse forward just a fraction of a second after Cully took
off. Both animals were evenly matched though Cully had the advantage of an early take off.
Glory was laughing, feeling a freedom he hadn't enjoyed since he'd lost Taimië and Ibex had left
him.
The titian haired elf hooted and hollered with glee as the pair raced for the tree line, charging up
over the slope and onto the grass. It seemed as if they had burst into paradise itself in the centre
of a blast furnace. Below, in a deep valley, stretched a vast green carpet of grass surrounding a
sparkling crystal clear lake. Palm trees and brilliant colored flowers grew everywhere and wellworn paths led from the water up to the only stable Obsidian settlement in their Nomadic
existence.
Haphazard patterns of white brick houses reflected the intense heat of the sun near the centre of
the village, and out towards the edges stood great white pavilions and smaller family tents.
Everywhere one looked there was people and horses, the Nomads dressed in white that served
the same purpose as the brick, though some trimmed their outfits with bright reds, yellows or
blues according to house or rank. The horses themselves came in Black and Rust for the most
part, though very rarely a Dapple-Grey or White stallion could be seen.
At the opposite side of the water was the home of Malik Faris, a great white building with slim
white spires and a golden mosque that sprawled out along half the length of the lake. It was their
destination, at the moment, though their path would take them through the centre of the village
itself.
"I like it here," Glory said musingly as they rode side by side. He'd lost the race, but didn't care
too much. "The colours... the whites... and the women..."
“It does have a decidedly pleasant feel to it,” Cully agreed, then chuckled as he followed his
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brother’s gaze. The women were warm skinned, dark haired, and bare midriffed for the most
part. “Come along Casanova, we are here on business, remember?”
They dismounted in the courtyard; passing their reins off to the grooms and dusting the sand out
of their clothing just as a retainer approached them from a shady archway.
“Greetings, Your Highnesses,” he greeted, taking note of Glory’s eyes. “Lord Faris is in
residence if you are seeking him.”
“We are, thank you,” Cully responded, “we have a message from King Y’Roden D’Riel of
S’Hea.”
The short dark haired fellow bowed slightly at the waist and gestured for them to follow him,
retracing his steps through the archway.
Cully exchanged a look with his twin, then followed along behind, his gaze wandering as they
were led through airy, shaded rooms of stunning architecture and design. The SandShadows
were masters of transmutation, able to alter their own forms as well as that of stone. Their talent
was breathtakingly evident in the quality of construction and for a moment the young Prince
almost forgot his reason for being here.
“Prince Culaelin!” Malik’s voice interrupted his reverie, “ah, and this is obviously your twin
Gloraelin. Welcome young sir, to the Obsidian Basin. How can I be of service?” The leader of
the Obsidian nomads was a tall well-muscled man with olive skin, long dark hair, and a short
beard. Ebony eyes set in a handsome face sparked bright as he welcomed the pair, his dark
clothing a stark contrast to that worn by most of his people.
Cully bowed slightly in greeting, a genuine smile lighting his face at the sight of a man he
considered a friend. “I have a message from my Doro,” he informed the man, holding out a
tightly rolled scroll marked with Y’Roden’s insignia. Malik accepted it, cracked the seal and
unrolled it, scanning the message quickly and nodding.
“I’ll be honoured to help in any way I can,” the SandShadow said, lifting his gaze to look at both
Elves for a moment, “Come, enjoy the hospitality of my home while I prepare for the journey.”
***
Tears were a private thing, and though the well was deep, it eventually ran dry. The darkness
here was usually the enemy, but for a while An’Thaya embraced it, pulling the void around
herself like a shroud and hiding her pain from the others. The past century or so had been one of
incredible loss, of agony she could not share with others or vent away. Slowly but surely Tay
was crumbling from the inside out, and she was terrified that someday soon everything would
unravel.
Time was short, and Galain was in trouble, she didn’t have time for this. Hiding was the
coward’s way, and the Amazon had never been that. Pulling herself together the redhead made
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her way along the wall, pondering the problem of infiltrating Samara’s Keep. On the way she
fairly stumbled over the Black Dragon Emperor and she eyed him warily for a moment. “I
suppose I owe you a thank you.”
He was aware she'd nearly walked into him but Callan continued to look out into the endless
dark for a bit before giving a soft, amused snort.
"And why would you owe me anything?" Callan spoke almost absently as softly glowing topaz
eyes turned to An'Thaya, the wife of his ally and friend while his sword hand lifted to scrub his
jaw and rub his neck, exposing the D'Riel dragon emblazoned on the back of his hand and
wrapped around his wrist until it disappeared in the shadows.
“Well, perhaps owe was the wrong word. I want to say it, despite the fact that you are an
infuriating ass most of the time. You… well,” the Amazon shifted uncomfortably, “you
apparently saved my life back there, after they took Galain.” Her mouth drew a hard line for a
moment, restraining a lance of agony at the thought of her husband in the hands of Samara
Mirage. “I know it wasn’t me you were worried about, but even still.”
She shrugged, “That isn’t what I’m most grateful for though… Callan, you stood by my father. I
don’t pretend to know why, you barely knew him, but… you did, and honoured him by carrying
his body off the battlefield.” Her gaze focused on the D’Riel Dragon winding its way up his arm.
“I can’t begin to tell you how much… how much my Father means to me… meant to me.” Eyes
she thought could no longer produce them welled in tears and she dropped her head for a
moment, shielding her features with a curtain of flaming curls. “Thank you.” Without looking up
again she pushed past the Black Dragon and on down the stairs, heading back towards the tavern.
He'd been tempted, for just that breath of a moment to offer her his sympathy, offer her a warm
touch and then she was gone. Callan watched the Amazon disappear into the darkness, then took
a deep breath and rested his hand on the wall. Several long minutes were spent looking at the
emerald-eyed black dragon that marked his skin. Why had he stood back to back with Derwin
D'Riel? Why had he tried to fight the battle that didn't belong to him? Why? The answer was
simple enough, Callan saw in Derwin a man of honour and courage. A man who could inspire
others to follow his command, to follow him into battle and fight to the end for him...even the
Black Emperor hadn't been immune to that charisma.
Brushing cobwebs out of her hair the Amazon looked up at Adarin and Bran as she entered the
tavern, “I’m going to get some sleep. First thing in the morning we should talk about how we are
going to get into Samara’s Keep without killing ourselves.” Pausing beside the Elen King she
kissed his cheek, “I’ll be upstairs, Elleska.” He nodded, relieved to hear that term of endearment
come from Tay's lips. He would follow her eventually.
Forming a ball of handfire An'Thaya let it bobble up the staircase ahead of her, following the
clear outline of Ghetsuhm’s boot prints on the way up. She sighed inwardly and followed them
to their source, finding the other redhead curled up alone. She was silent for a moment; letting
the light settle over the other woman and watching it play off the highlights of her hair. “I’m
sorry Ghetsuhm… are you alright?”
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Ghet sat up, slowly, while she tried to work out how she felt towards the other woman. So much
pain, but was any of it really An'Thaya's fault? What finally got her, though, was the intense
absurdity of the question. Dirty and tear-streaked and bruising up nicely, she looked up at
An'Thaya and laughed shakily. "Oh yeah. Fine. Box of fluffies, me. But it's no more than I
deserve, apparently." She shrugged, despair pushing at her mind. "Sorry."
The Amazon looked shocked for a moment, her face going completely blank, then she sighed
and joined the other redhead on the floor. “Everyone is under a lot of stress,” she murmured,
wrapping her arms around Ghet’s shoulders and kissing her temple, “it’s ok to fall apart. We are
going to get Galain back; we are going to find Rhagi. Everything will be all right… it has to be.
I’m sorry I lost it… it just… came as a shock, to say the least.” Soft fingers stroked the other
woman’s face; “Let me heal that for you?”
Ghet sighed deeply and relaxed into An'Thaya's arms. "Um, no, actually, it's really not okay for
me to fall apart." She took the other woman's hand away from her face and held it. "No, leave it.
I'm not being a bitch; I think it might come in handy. There don't seem to be any bones broken.
Lucky, I guess." She let the last of her anger go and hugged An'Thaya. "It's okay. It's nobody's
fault."
That was the entire problem; there was no one to blame, not for the things that hurt in the long
term. So everyone swallowed the pain, put on a smile, and moved on with his or her lives.
“Alright, good… I mean that I didn’t break anything. Gods I’m tired… You should try getting
some sleep too. Tomorrow, tomorrow we are getting our husband back, and killing Samara. I
know it won’t be permanent, it never is with her, but it will feel good just trying.”
Samara. That was it. It was Samara's fault. Ghet nodded. "There's some stuff I need to think
about, and then we need to talk about what we're going to do when we get there. But tomorrow
will be soon enough. I've pissed her off in the past, it will be a distinct pleasure to do it again."
Tay managed to muster up a soft laugh as she simply made herself comfortable where she was.
“That’s m’girl,” the Amazon murmured sleepily. “Night Ghet.”
Shadow shouldered her vest back on and wearily slid down the wall beside the signal fire.
Drawing her knees up to her chest, her long hair spread around her like a dark pool, the fire
reflecting off of the silver, creating brilliant slashes of pure light amongst the darkness. She
looked frail, her unusually thin form covered in clothing that, for the moment, seemed to hang on
her only making matters worse; she almost looked like a child playing dress up, or clambering
around in her father’s clothes.
She only wished she was.
A deeply felt sigh escaped her, soon everything would be set to right, or as right as things ever
got considering those involved. An’Thaya was back to normal, at least memory wise, Corin, or at
least the city, was back in proper hands, the boys would be brought home soon, and Galain
would be back to patch things up again. The corner of her mouth quirked up for a moment,
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Galain had a knack for patching things up, he also had a knack for messing things up, but
somehow everything got along, at least for a little while.
Her head fell back against the stone wall with a solid thunk and stared up at the sky as if her eyes
could pierce through the darkness and into blessed worlds full of light. She was still struggling
with herself. She had given up on deciding whether or not to tell about the girls, now it was just a
matter of when. She just wished she had someone to talk to about it.
***
A warm breeze caused the flaps to the tent to shuffle in the morning hours. Daylin sat outside of
the King’s tent, sharpening his sword. The steady swipe of whetstone against metal rung out
across the battlefield from the day before. His simple shirt was tossed carelessly on the ground,
while a page saw to the wounds he’d received the, making sure that stitches held and didn’t
require reopening.
His head jerked up as his brother came, a sparkle in the younger Shroudling’s eyes. “They’ve
returned Daylin, time to have another go, Brother, your sword has sung enough.” Baysen
chuckled out and tossed the older of the pair his shirt as he headed off to claim his horse.
Baysen didn’t know when, let alone how, the Nuru’kh-ai had gained enough sense to regroup.
But here they were again. The stable master raised his sword and turned it slightly, using the
morning light to reflect off of it to give the commanding signal to break out of the line and into
small groups. He didn’t need to remind them to stay at a safe distance from the sand ships.
“Go for those bellowing orders!” He shouted, his words being echoed down the lines. “Leave
none to draw another breath!” The orders were shouted by Daylin, an odd gleam in his usually
calm, driftwood brown eyes. Baysen had an idea it was one that was mirrored in his own eyes
and the eyes of every Shroudling on the field. Peaceful they may be, but they were far from
battle’s frenzied grasp.
From the deck of the pirate guild's mother freighter, a low whine began, the regrouped Nurus had
been spotted, and the wail of the alarm calling the Desert Elf forces to battle stations shattered
the air. A similar blast of air horn went up from every ship, and breakfast or not, the Eheiling
Narhn were ready to fight another battle. Side ports flipped open to expose the cannons once
more as the ships pulled into attack formation.
Krassc and Damara stood with their archers, bows in hand. They'd been denied a rise out of
Tallin himself and for it, the black-blooded Nuru’kh-ai would suffer.
An unseen signal had the volleys of arrows colouring the morning skies grey and covering the
ground with fallen Nuru. Cannon fire exploded in their ranks and once again, a few skiffs used
the cranky lasguns to cut the creatures down and drop them in their steps.
Between shots, Krassc grinned at Damara.
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"Hard headed lot, aren't they?" An arrow was knocked, "You'd think..." The arrow drawn,
"they’d learn..." The arrow sailed free, "To lay down..." A Nuru fell with a porcine squeal, shot
through the shoulder, another struck it in the thigh, "and stay down."
In time, the flood of beasts began to wane, if not stop, their numbers cut down by nearly twothirds by Elf and Shroudling alike. Absently, Damara was wondering if Y'Roden D'Riel would
have to simply evacuate Corin and simply fog the whole place as though poisoning vermin....
***
The dark stone walls of the ruined fort loomed above the trees as Linnis and the girls drew
nearer. The forest was densest here, grim and foreboding. Some places had not seen the light of
day for millennia. "Welcome to my home" Nuuruhuine said, "or one of them at least. I trust you
will all be very comfortable here."
A tall Elven woman dressed in the dark tunic and trousers that seemed to be standard amongst
the Ravens came hurrying out. Her blood red hair was a vivid splash of colour in such a gloomy
place. "My lady" she murmured, sinking to one knee before the Goddess.
"Rise, my dear. Let me introduce you to our guests." The dark-haired woman urged the redhead
to her feet. "This is Caillech Ni Braoine, chief amongst my Ravens. Caillech, I would like you to
meet Linnis D'Trel, Drysi and Yseult D'Riel and Muirne Badb Catha."
"Badb Catha?" Caillech's bright green eyes were questioning as they shot towards Nuuruhuine.
"Indeed, Muirne is Brandubh's daughter. The other three girls are her cousins, Arianne's
children."
The redhead drew herself up, a natural arrogance in her bearing. "My lady..."
The Battle Goddess held up a hand to halt her words. "They will be made welcome, Caillech. I'm
trusting you with this one."
"I respect your judgment, my Queen." The Chief Raven bowed, but the look in her eyes as they
rested on the newcomers was one of loathing. "If you would come with me." She gestured
towards the fort.
Linnis looked the redhead over, watched as she took in the girls and herself. She'd seen that look
before and didn't like it one bit. Her blue eyes narrowed slightly.
Drysi clung to her twin's hand, ever sensitive to mood; the dark-haired little girl was frightened
by the animosity in Caillech's gaze. "I don't want to go in there,” she whispered.
"There's nothing to be afraid of, my dear" Nuuruhuine said reassuringly. "My Ravens will look
after you." Her dark eyes met Linnis'. "Go with them, dalharil. They will feel safer with you.
Inside there is food and a fire."
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"Nothing will happen to you as long as I'm here" Linnis said trying to reassure them, "Your big
sister will look after you."
"My Queen, my Queen." Seanait dropped to her knee before the Goddess, her hazel eyes lifting
to meet Nuuruhuine's. "There are strangers within the forest."
"Indeed." The dark-haired woman closed her eyes for a moment as if searching for something.
"Ah, yes. Not unexpected, although they have moved quicker than I thought. Rhan."
"My lady." A petite woman with raven-black locks and dark brown eyes hurried forward.
Several daggers were strapped in leather sheathes at her side.
"Take a small group and deal with these intruders. Bronagh, Myrthrae, Seanait you shall go to.
Demonstrate to them that the Tauremorna is a dangerous place for a visit. People have been
known to disappear without a trace."
Yse glanced back over her shoulder into the woods, for a moment fearing it was the Nuru’kh-ai
that had followed. Yet… maybe it was Addah? Or Ammah? Jade green eyes flicked up to the
Goddess. Surely not… their mother had just been mentioned as if she was known here; they
certainly wouldn’t do her any harm. Exchanging a quick glance with her twin the platinum
haired child gave Drysi’s hand a squeeze, then peered up at the dark walls. It was better than
spending another night in the forest.
The raven-haired twin was still far from convinced that the ruins were a good place to be, and yet
she could not deny that the food was very tempting. The traveling rations of the previous nights
meal had merely taken the edge of her hunger. Her stomach growled slightly as she and her
companions were ushered inside the walls.
"Hungry?" Caillech's words were abrupt, bitten off. "You'd better come this way then." The
redhead turned on her heel and stalked over towards a massive hearth set into the dark grey stone
of the walls. Her soft leather boots were soundless as they crossed the flagstone floor. The walls
of what had once been the Great Hall of the fortress soared high above the girls' heads towards
the vaulted ceiling.
Drysi's stomach growled once more at the tempting smell of roasting meat. A whole boar rested
on a spit above the dancing flames, it's flesh glistening and golden.
The Badb Catha child had not missed the curious looks cast her way. When she'd been taken, her
black wings had been neatly hidden, the sleeves in the back of her shirt drawn shut with the
laces, and Muirne doubted any of these women had clue that she wasn't pure elf, and yet still the
looks.
Uncomfortable with herself and where they were, Muirne drew closer to her cousins and
remained silent, her jade eyes smouldering. She was hungry, but the woman's rudeness was
helping her find her bearings. "Well, you don't have to be so bossy. You know when momma
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finds you, she'll kick your butt don't you?" Muirne mumbled then felt her mouth start to water.
She was starving...
"Your Ill’har needs to find us before she can do anything of the sort," Caillech replied shortly,
"and trust me, little one. That is something that is incredibly hard to do for one who is not a
Tauremornan." She smiled at the dragon elf. "You'd better start making yourself comfortable.
The likelihood is that you're here to stay. I'm sure we can find a use for one with blood such as
yours."
The redhead crouched before the children. "Tell me, does the Badb Catha blood run strongly in
your veins, or do you take after your other parents?"
***
The fireplace was, surprisingly, in working order. Unfortunately, there was no firewood to be
had within the settlement. Not that Tay was terribly surprised; wood was scarce in Tenobrous.
There remained the fact that breakfast was a necessity though, and cold rations just were not
going to cut it considering the day ahead.
Humming merrily the redhead picked up one of the poorly made chairs and smashed it off a wall.
“There we go,” she said cheerily to no one in particular, “kindling.”
Adarin had descended the stairs and watched the Amazon smash up a chair. He'd spent the night
on his own, having found Tay and Ghetsuhm sleeping close to each other. He'd decided then to
find a space of his own for the night and had slept dreamlessly, exhaustion of the body and mind
overwhelming the Elen King at last.
"Nicely done," he said, a smile causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle. "Need me to smash up
a table too?"
"I'd quite like to see that," Ghet said, trundling down the stairs. "Then the next time I'm being
told off for being improper, I can say, 'yeah, but once I saw King Adarin smash up a whole
table'." A slight slurring to her speech indicated the weariness and injury the darkness hid. She
was trying hard to hide that too.
"Ah, but is smashing up a table for firewood improper behaviour under the circumstances?" Bran
asked. He rested a gentle hand on Ghet's shoulder, concern flickering into his jade green eyes.
Asking if she was alright seemed a little pointless at the moment.
“I’d love to see that too,” Tay chuckled, “flex those biceps for me! Can he borrow your axe
Bran?” Emerald eyes sparkled a little with amusement as she started the fire. “Anyone for tea?
Good Gods… is this headache ever going to ease?” Her temples had been throbbing ever since
she had been hit on the head, no matter what healing magic Adarin wove. “Damn… I think I
need to ground out soon.”
"There I was thinking he was going to tear the table apart with his bare hands too,” Bran said
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dryly. He unfastened the axe from where it rested at his hip and handed it over to the Elen King.
"Watch what you're doing with it. It's sharper than you think,” he warned.
Shadow threw open the tavern door and blinked before laughter escaped her, "Hey! Who started
the bar brawl without me? That's just not fair..."
The forest elf let out a chuckle as she closed the door behind her and tossed what looked like a
burlap sack onto a fairly stable table. “Anyone up for fry bread? It's better than roasted spider.”
Adarin was just grinning and took the axe from Bran with a nod.
"Fry bread sounds excellent," he said. "Especially if you just happen to be making it," he added,
giving Shadow a wink before he rolled up his sleeves, flexed just a tiny bit for Tay and then
swung for all he was worth. His chosen victim, a solid-looking construction of heavy wood,
shattered impressively under the blow and Adarin's grin turned wolfish.
"Oh that felt good," he said before he swung again and made short work of the table.
Ghet smiled at Bran and placed her hand over his. "Oh, I wasn't planning to mention that. My
memory is dreadfully selective sometimes. Looks like good stress relief though."
"Evidently so," the fair-haired elf replied, squeezing the redhead's shoulder gently. "Can we not
trash all the chairs though? I'd quite like to be able to sit down whilst I eat breakfast and the
stone floor's not exactly forgiving on the behind."
Ghet opened her mouth and then shut it. She'd been going to make some comment about Bran's
delightful behind and her lap, but her heart wasn't in it, and at some point, they were going to
have to buckle down to the serious stuff. "Just tell me breakfast has no more than four legs,
okay?" She sighed. "I need to talk to Thaya, and Shadow... hells, I guess it's time we all sorted
out what we're going to do. I thought I might head up to the Keep and offer myself to Samara in
exchange for Galain and the boys."
Ash had settled near Bran, and on a flat layer of shale lay a steaming spider, roasted to perfection
by one black dragon. "Want a bite?" Bi-colored, cat-slit eyes watched Bran innocently. The
S'Hean Ranger had no qualms about eating these...they tasted remarkably like shellfish and had
the same texture. The Ranger just wished she had lemons and salt. She was doing her best to get
the dark meal down to four legs, then offer Ghet a bite when she made a remark Ash didn't quite
know how to take. Pausing in mid-chew, Ild'ashi furrowed her brows together as she tried to
decide if Ghet was serious.
Shadow laughed and rolled her eyes at Adarin as she went about the process of putting things
together for breakfast, listening to the others as she did so. At one point pulling the long curved
dagger from its elegant black and silver sheath that was strapped to her thigh, and stabbing it into
the table beside her. The emerald in the pommel flickering in the dim light.
The forest elf suddenly slammed her hand down into dough on the table, her head shooting up to
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pin a stubborn glare at Ghet. “Not an option, try again, the only way that happens is if you kill
me, and you should know by now that isn‘t an easy feat.”
Ghet returned Shadow a wonky smile. "And you know I'd never try to kill you, Shady. It's not
my way. Don't get me wrong, I don't think for a minute she'll go for it. But she hates me, and that
makes her weak. Not that she doesn't have good reason. But I can distract her, and I can weaken
her, long enough for someone else to get in and get the boys." The grin she gave Shadow was
warmer now. "See? I don't have to kill you. Odds are the Orcs'll do it for me."
Callan and Yarwin stood just inside the doorway of the tavern, one on each side of the door and
listened. "Aye, a distraction is what we'll need, but let me say this, Ghetsuhm Alcarin." Callan
leaned casually against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, his fingers drumming a black
bracer.
"What good would we be doing if we rescue not only the boys, but Galain, and leave you to the
mercy of Samara? We'll have the children, yes, but what of Galain? And what of Rhagi? I doubt
Samara will simply let you walk away," Callan gestured at the red-head with one hand, "If she
hates you as much as you claim. Do you think Galain will let us leave you? We need something
better...something we know will work. You as a distraction alone will be fatal to not only you,
but to our getting out. We have to make certain everyone makes it out...and barring that? Make
sure no-one is left behind...alive."
***
Coming up for air was nearly impossible and her mind struggled to break the connection. Her
body however was speaking an altogether different tongue. Rhodry had cunningly found a way
to hold her despite her fierce struggling at first. But by the time her body took over the struggle
was mental for the moment one that was clouded profoundly by what Rhodry was doing to her.
Finally when he let her go it was to drop her on a bed in a room at the Inn. Stunned she glared at
him and leapt off the bed full charge into his chest beating scratching slugging and generally
abusing him while invectives of rainbow hues spewed out at him.
"If you ever do something like that again I will carve your heart out and stuff it elsewhere." Her
face was fully flush and her mind conflicted as the fury finally spent itself.
“Ah… she admits I have a heart,” Rhodry chuckled, catching the enraged woman’s wrists and
yanking them behind her back, “we are making progress at least.” Leaning in he kissed Rani
hard, lifted her off booted feet and moved back towards the bed. “You looked tired,” he added,
murmuring against her mouth, “I was going to tuck you into bed… with the most tender love and
care.”
Kicking and flailing as much as she could given the way she was held, Rani tried to free her
mouth again but to no avail. Even so his kisses as dominant as they were did not become brutal
and they were finding inroads to melting the lock on an otherwise secured heart. She was by no
means ready to admit it to herself yet, which only fuelled the hellcat side of her more. When the
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backs of her legs finally were pinned between Rhodry and the bed Rani squirmed and struggle
more furious that she’d somehow let him gain an upper hand so fast. But she could hardly deny
being tired having barely dozed sitting up all night in the taproom.
“Progress??” spluttered out of her mouth against his. “What sort of progress? And why should
you care about me being tired or my need for any sort of assistance?” Now she was not sure what
he meant by tender love and care or to what extent but even her curiosity dared not ask about it.
She was still not sure what happened the last time that he’d seen to her need for sleep. She kissed
him back now as hard as he’d kissed her and for the life of her she had no clue why she did it.
“The best sort of progress,” Rhodry murmured, releasing one of her hands and sliding a callused
palm up her spine to cup the back of her head. Large fingers curled into rosy blonde hair, the soft
strands sliding over his skin. Wrapping an arm around her waist the Mercenary braced his knee
on the bed and lowered Rani down to the mattress before sliding his hand free and tugging at the
laces on the front of her shirt. The rapid pace of his breathing matched hers, but he managed to
pull back just for a moment. “Or… would your rather I stop?”
In a flash she’d grabbed an ornate stiletto from within her hair and waved it ominously at him.
“Progress this, you hormone driven letch!” she pulled up one leg and kicked him in the chest to
push him away. “It’s no wonder you have no heir…” her breathing hadn’t improved much nor
the rich colour of her face. It was hard to tell if she’d slice him out of any sort of outrage or if
she’d actually enjoy the challenge. Scrambling back and off the end of the bed Rani stood
prepared to do something, just what she wasn’t sure.
Soft laughter shook Rhodry’s chest as he grabbed at her wrist again, “I keep having to disarm
you,” he observed, “Have I mentioned I love that about you?” A jerk of his arm had Rani
slamming back up against the human’s chest and his free hand cupped her jaw. “Nothing worth
having comes easily.” Suddenly backing away he brought the dagger up against his own throat,
“Go ahead, slit my throat… if, that is what you really want to do.”
Spluttering from the fact that there didn’t seem to be any way to dissuade this rogue from
dogging her. Adding to that the problem that he always seemed to gain the upper hand in her
case. It infuriated her and intrigued her making any clear thinking next to impossible. “Is that
so.” She said soft and dangerously into his face before he backed off. Her hand trembled with
fury and frustration, nicking his neck. Rani stared in near disbelief as the deep red fluid swelled
into a drop and ran down his throat. Horror struck she tossed the blade onto the bed. “What is it
with you? Why can’t you leave me alone? You seem hell bent on some sort of conquest with me
and I can’t imagine why. So…. Why?”
Rhodry’s eye glinted, the scent of blood lingering in the air as he reached out to brush a strand of
hair away from Rani’s face. “Why? Has it been so long since your heart knew passion? I can’t
leave you alone…” His fingertips touched at the wound on his neck, then to the Elf’s mouth,
staining her lips red with his blood. “I don’t want to leave you alone… you set my blood on fire,
and that… Hellcat is an addiction I won’t easily let go of.”
Leaning in he brushed his lips over hers, “I want to see what emerges when that fire melts away
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the ice. There are flames reflected in the glacier that surrounds your heart, enough to burn a man,
should he be brave enough to seek them out.” Brushing the wealth of ruddy blonde hair away
from Rani’s neck he leaned in to kiss the smooth line that sloped to her shoulder. “But I am not a
man to take what is not offered.”
Eyes filled with confusion stared into his briefly before falling away. She could feel the passion
of which he spoke stirring within her and she was fighting it with all her might. She had come to
believe this part of life was not for her. Too much pain had ever come of any encounter of
passion. It was why she preferred to be in the Guard and not in the courts. She could easily and
rightly so be one of the Ladies of S’Hea. But she was not one to wed for politics or convenience.
As for wedding for love that too had only brought her too much pain, the like of which she hated
to face. It was encounters like this that only served those recollections up, bringing sour bile to
her mouth with them.
“You chase the impossible dream Arketh. I suggest you find some other source to sate your
addictions. You will not find happiness chasing them here.” She licked her lips again tasting the
coppery salts in the blood he’d smeared there. “I am cursed to bring nothing but pain into the
lives I touch, My Lord. Perhaps I do you the greatest kindness to not let that glacier go. Be very
careful those flames do not do more harm than good if you choose to continue.” There it was, she
could feel it. Finally someone had cracked the stone sarcophagus that she’d so painstakingly
built around her heart. She feared no lasting joy would come if opened again. “If you wish to risk
that My Lord Arketh then do not curse my name later.”
Lifting his head Rhodry studied the depths of peridot pools for a brief moment, “Have you ever
thought,” he murmured in a rough baritone, “that the reason for all the previous pain you speak
of, might be that you had not found your true path yet?” A callused thumb caressed the line of
her jaw, “Life is not meant to be lived in an emotional cage Rani Al’Trekis, it is meant to be
embraced… Life is much like a woman, beautiful and full of fire, as long as there is something
there to fuel her. Perhaps it is time to live again?”
She jerked away as tears threatened to fall. “What would you know of my path! Have I thought?
Have I ever thought? Oh My Lord Arketh I have thought long and hard.” Pain and anger filled
her words. “I once had joy, a soul mate even. Finally we were blessed with a son. But it was all
not to be. Paths are not always as true to you as you would be to them. Life? Perhaps life too is
better off with this cage firmly in place.” Her voice now trembled beyond her control and she
refused to let him see the pain there. Keeping her back to him she murmured softly “I would not
curse another life to this pain, especially not yours.” Even softer she muttered, “B’Rodyn warned
me this day would come.” Tears fell freely now and her soul ached to be held and comforted.
Rhodry’s expression softened, and he worried the patch over his blind eye for a moment with
rough fingers. He was all too familiar with pain and loss. There were things locked away in the
rogue’s heart, so far lost in time he didn’t care to dredge them out again. A Father slain, a woman
left behind … a life spent trading the service of death for coin. “What pain I choose to bear is
just that,” he murmured, “my choice. Did you think I didn’t know? Not the details, but… that
something in your past had done damage. It is written in your eyes… in your manner.”
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With a soft, rather uncharacteristic sigh, he wrapped heavily muscled arms around Rani and
turned her into his chest, gently stroking the soft locks of the Elf’s hair as her tears stained his
shirt.
That was all it took. The long years she’d thought she’d tucked away this need forever now blew
to the top of her soul like a geyser going off. Oh how long had she craved this sort of moment?
How many centuries had passed with no one to hold her and hear her cry, to tell her it would be
ok, if only in that she was not alone. Hard sobbing shook her frame as she let the ages of loss and
pain wash into another place with her tears. “Hold me … hold me and don’t let me drown.” She
cried into his wet shirt, her fingers making inroads through wet shirt and laces, fearful that once
again she would die the heartache of loss. But at this moment it no longer mattered what the
future held only that she was being held right now.
“You are not going to drown,” Rhodry said softly, “I’ve got you.” Releasing her with one arm
the Merc lifted the Captain and cradled her against his chest. Moving to the bed he settled her in
his lap and kissed her forehead, “I’m not going to let go.” Tilting Rani’s chin he kissed her
softly, tenderly, wondering at himself all the while. It seemed, the Hellcat had found something
in Rhodry that hadn’t been seen in centuries.
Finally, the years of pain slipped into the past where they belonged. Soft innocence replaced hard
cold duty on her face. As her mouth met his she let the fires flare, the body respond, the heart
‘feel’. This human had found what no one since her beloved Railen had found, and he too had to
fight for it. A small smile formed in the kiss as that memory came back. Instead of the loss she
was now recalling the joy. Curling into him like a small child Rani felt tears of release and joy
now come where pain had been. She let hands explore rippled surfaces she never dreamed she
would come to know. What now the future, what now was in store for the human and the elf only
time would tell.
***
Linnis had moved in closely behind the young girls, somewhat protectively. This Caillech was
starting to annoy Linnis, her whole attitude was just wrong. Surely they were all kindred spirits.
Maybe once they got to know them these Ravens would be a little nicer. "Muirne," Linnis said
forcibly, her blue eyes on the redhead's green "Will not be staying here. I plan to send her back to
her mother. She does not belong here."
"No?" Caillech laughed as she rose to her feet. It was not a cheerful sound. "Are you sure? Blood
always tells in the end." She turned and picked up a carving knife, the blade gleaming in the light
of the fire. For a second resentment shone in her brilliant green eyes. She had been the first
amongst the Ravens for a long time. She had worked hard to reach that position, and she would
be damned before some upstart took it away from her just because they carried the blood of
someone whom the Phantom Queen had always been after. Arianne Badb Catha had not stayed,
had not been loyal. Caillech had been. Did that mean nothing to the Goddess? With short, angry
motions the redhead began to slice meat from the roast.
Linnis decided that this Raven looked far too comfortable with a knife in her hand. "And what
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does your blood tell Caillech? Do you have the same magic, or has that been denied you?" The
brunette was not going to let this one intimidate her, or do anything to the children. Her body
would be dead and cold before she let that happen.
"My blood is my own and no concern of yours," the redhead replied sharply. "Those that know
of me do so, and those that don't..." She gave Linnis a thin smile as she set a wooden platter of
meat upon a table. "Eat up. Its all there is on offer."
Muirne's eyes darted from Linnis to Caillech and back again. The woman had said 'other parent'
as though she should be ashamed the blood of the First Dragon ran in her veins and that her soul
was made of Flame and Chaos. When the knife had came up, faint shimmers of heat had danced
around Muirne's hands...she'd show this nasty woman who she took after. As for Linnis, Muirne
refused to look at her, and given the first chance, her cousin would receive a swift kick in the
shins for being a liar.
Mumbling as the knife was turned to the roasted meat, Muirne told Caillech exactly what she
thought.
"Taure...Tarne...Tarnationwhatever or not. The Pull will lead my Ill’har here...and when it
does..." Muirne's eyes began to glow softly with suppressed fear and Rage, "you'd best hope
you're fire proof...and Linnis won't live long enough to take me anywhere again."
That said, Muirne smiled sweetly at Linnis then inched closer to Yse and Drys before snatching a
slice of hot meat off the platter.
"We shall see, won't we?" Caillech's smile was full of confidence. No one had ever breached the
defences of the Choosers of the Slain before. No one had ever defied them and lived.
"Do not be too arrogant, Caillech," a new voice said with cool quietness. The woman who
approached was older than the redhead, that experience showing in her eyes. She seemed to be
almost completely colourless, her grey eyes barely darker than her pale complexion and the pure
white hair that was held in long braid down her back. The overall impression was almost ghostly.
"Arrogant, Scathach? It is not arrogance, it is confidence,” the leader of the Ravens proclaimed
proudly. "Without knowledge of the forest few can hope to survive its perils."
"True, but do you think this one's mother would come alone. I have met Arianne Badb Catha. I
am the only amongst you who has. Trust me when I say that she will come." The woman's oddly
colourless eyes shifted to Linnis. "You were a fool, child. The Battle Raven never forgets a
slight, and she rarely forgives. Do you think she would be merciful to one who took her children
from her?"
Blue eyes narrowed as Linnis regarded Muirne, "we'll see little one,” she said quietly. Turning to
the white -haired woman she said "I don't expect anything good from my mother. You say you
know her. You know what she's like. Anyway, the girls are much better off with me than with
her. Together with Nuuruhuine they can be raised properly, away from her corruption." She
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watched Scathach carefully as she idly nibbled on a piece of meat.
The pale woman merely shrugged and turned away, an odd smile curving her lips. Only time
would tell who was correct.
***
“Fadil,” Y’Roden said softly, “could you send up another ball of handfire?” The half-elf was a
little further along in the tunnel than his friend, just behind Malik Faris who was assessing the
damage to one of the walls. “What do you think Malik? Can you shore it up?”
Fadil moved noiselessly up behind the other men, light blossoming from his palm. The tunnel
looked enormously better than it had. Now it was just decrepit and uncomfortable, not the stuff
of nightmares.
There was a slight rustling sound as the SandShadow ran his palm across the crumbling rock
assessingly; “I do not yet know Y’Roden D’Riel… a little more light to the left please? It looks
promising I should think. Are there many more places like this?”
“Reece said there were several. He is still around somewhere if you require his assistance,”
Y’Roden answered.
“I may, at that. After all, on Whispin… two Shadows are better than one,” Malik’s tone held a
tinge of amusement, and even Ro had to laugh softly at the jest.
“Mak,” Ro called back to his nephew, “Could you run up to the taproom and fetch your Doro
Reece please?”
Mak froze. He'd been moving along quite well and so the call back was unexpected. He was the
philosophical one though and he nodded, then spoke out.
"Yessir. Will do." He turned away and headed back toward the light. He liked the light...
A few minutes later the movements of two people could be heard approaching down the tunnel,
the dark head of Reece Nightfall emerging from the gloom.
“How is it looking?” he asked, gazing curiously at Malik over Y’Roden’s shoulder.
“Well,” the SandShadow murmured, “most of this will have to be taken out by hand, but slowly.
The two of us will have to shore up the sides while that is being done. It promises to be a rather
time consuming process… and rather backbreaking for the others… but, we shall persevere.”
“Alright then, just tell me where you want me,” the Mercenary nodded, “won’t catch me
complaining about avoiding the backbreaking stuff.”
Y’Roden exchanged a look with Fadil and sighed, “I guess that means the rest of us are in for a
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long day. Mak… sorry to keep you running, but could you go get your brothers? Oh, and bring
down some water canteens. I think we are going to need them.”
Fadil grinned. "The exercise will do him good. Stairs are good for your thighs. Considering the
alternative..." He looked balefully at the fill they were going to have to haul out. "I could go get
the boys and Mak could dig..."
Mak had been following along and now he froze.
"I can," he said faintly, referring to getting his brothers. "I'm... wait. You want my brothers first
or the water? And..." he tossed a few rocks at Fadil. He wasn't overawed by rank or anything.
"I'm in FINE shape," he hissed. "I'm not gonna dig. I'll get my brothers and THEY can dig!"
Y’Roden looked back at Mak, and then grinned at Fadil. “I think he gets that attitude from his
Father.” He paused a minute and contemplated the thought of An’Thaya. “Or… maybe not.
Brothers first, water next,” he told his nephew. “You are going to dig. Yes indeed. Or, I can send
you to the Crystal Keep for training… I’m sure you’d enjoy that. Yes?”
Mak's next utterance was a very foul word and he just turned away. Crystal Keep his eye.
"Brothers first," he said after that, moving back toward the entrance before he got ready to leave.
See what a good and dutiful nephew I am? He sent.
Fadil ducked, then grinned back at Ro as Mak left. "That boy's got promise, I like him. That
probably doesn't say much for his life expectancy."
***
“We won’t be leaving her behind,” Tay said quietly, “we will work together. Keep the Demoness
off balanced, distracted. Ghet isn’t the only one Samara wants to get her claws into. She can go
in first; Shadow and I can tag team from there… if it is necessary. No one gets left behind. The
question is… how do we get her in?”
Ghet was glad Thaya had interrupted and stopped her before she'd said something about Rhagi
having another perfectly good parent, and Galain another wife. She was, of course, perfectly
prepared to not come back from this if it got the others out, but then she hadn't thought about
how that would affect Galain, and for a moment she stood there looking like a stunned mullet.
"Well, yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I don't even know the way; I'd be
completely useless out there. But if I could get close enough, I was thinking about just walking
up to the door and knocking." Ghet grinned at Bran. "Remember that plan? She wouldn't want to
kill me in a hurry; she'd want to play with me first. So even if she 'caught' me, I'd be safe for a
while. She took Galain specifically to hurt An’Thaya and me: I think she'd believe that had
caused a falling-out and I'd come without the rest of you knowing. And sneaking's never been
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my strong point. I'm better at attracting attention. I'll leave sneaking to the experts." She
shrugged. "Once she realizes the boys are gone, I don't think she'll give much of a damn about
me any more."
Somehow things had gone from bantering to serious and Adarin, having trashed the one table,
subsided and listened. He didn't all like what he was hearing, but he knew some things had to be
done.
"We have to get serious about backup," he said.
Bran's jade eyes flickered from one companion to the next. "If Ghet is willing to act as the
distraction then perhaps someone sneakier than her could get into the Keep another way?" he
suggested. "Shadow, that would seem to be more your specialization than any of ours? And
perhaps Ash given her Ranger training? That would leave the dragons free to deal with any
Nuru’kh-ai whilst they find the boys."
Shadow was rather relieved for Callan’s input, it almost ran a long the same lines she was
thinking, almost, she was thinking of the people that were hurt along the way as Galain and Ghet
followed their hearts. She finished with making the fry bread as Bran spoke up.
She nodded, “Aye, I’ll do it and Ash is welcome to come along if she doesn’t mind seeing what
is on the other side of the shadows. For that matter, I can get Ghet in past any of the outside
dangers and into an area where you can make the most commotion.”
Ghet gave Shadow a nervous smile. She liked the way this was coming together. Everyone
working to his or her strengths. "Thank you. I'll try not to be too big of a pain in the ass."
The corner of Shadow’s mouth curled up in her unusual grin. “Oh, go ahead and be a pain in the
ass, if you weren’t we’d all wonder what was wrong with you,” she teased, tossing a slice of
bread towards the other woman, followed by her flask that had decided that honey was called for.
“Once we get in there, I can locate Galain through the necklace, hopefully he’ll know where the
boys are.” Her eyes turned to An’Thaya as she continued passing out breakfast, “Do you know of
any place that would be considered weakest in the Keep? Preferably someplace with little light
and even less torture.”
The Amazon rubbed at her forehead and bit into a piece of bread, chewing and swallowing
before she answered. “Uhm… the northern wing. It faces the wastes; no one would bother to
come in from that direction, too far of a walk over the sands. But… we don’t have to walk, do
we.” She tapped lithe fingers over the scales on her abdomen and grinned at her Ad’Vere. “Ok…
we sort of have a plan. Ghet distracts, Shady and Ash do search and rescue, the rest of us hit and
run… and… I’m the back up distraction.”
***
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Deep in the forests of the Tauremorna four figures crouched amidst the undergrowth, waiting.
Their stillness was that of the predator; watchful, cautious, ready to leap upon its prey. Rhan
glanced across at one of her companions, her dark eyes holding a silent question. Myrthrae
nodded. The time of the hunt was about to begin.
The dark-haired Raven closed her grey eyes, concentrating, listening, until she could hear the
rhythm of the earth as a heartbeat in her very soul. Mist as deep a green as the forest itself drifted
from her fingertips, reaching into the soul, seeking, probing. Leaves rustled. The creak of the
trees seemed almost to become voices. Vines stretched and slithered like snakes.
"What was that?" Silverthorn paused and held up a hand for silence. Her breath caught in her
throat. Something had changed. Some indefinable shift in the forest itself that she couldn't quite
place, only sense. The dark haired elf spun around. "The trail's gone." Bushes obscured their
view, yet she could have sworn they were not there before. Jade green eyes widened.
"Remi, look out!" Thick vines dropped from the branches overhead, wrapping around the S'Hean
and dragging him upwards.
Pale green cat-slit eyes nearly bugged out of Remi’s head and a shout of alarm was cut off as a
seeking vine wrapped around his throat. Oddly, this wasn’t the first time a plant had attacked
him, the young S’Hean had spent a significant amount of time in the Whispin Jungle. It was,
however, the first time he had been throttled by foliage.
A grasping hand reached for whatever weapon was on hand, managing to pull a dagger free of
the brace at his chest. A slice through the sinewy green strand brought air rushing back into his
lungs, and a yodeling yell as he fell, only to be jerked upside down by a vine still wrapped
around his leg. Swinging wildly in pendulum fashion he waved his arms, trying to grab at nearby
branches and slow his momentum.
Gre struck out at a shrub that reminded him of a rabid dog. He was beginning to prefer the living
plants at home than the ones here, at least on Whispin, they didn’t reek of darkness.
“I don’t think that’s what she meant by look out, Remi!” His voice took on a strangled tone as
something reached around from behind and crushed his windpipe. The young Ranger reached
back and wrapped his arm around the offending vine and jerked, the move ripping more of the
vine from the tree tops, but giving him enough lee way to pry the barked tentacles from around
his throat.
Spinning around, he slashed at creeper, using his sword more like a machete.
A dusky bronze hand flew over the Shadow-woman's shoulder and gripped the black-grained
wood that made up the hilt of her shamshir. The black knife whipped over her shoulder in a dull
gleaming arc, the curved blade slicing through foliage.
Sahar slashed and cut through the unusual attackers, paying no mind to the death that was dealt.
“Tell me, your Highness, how attached are you to the forest of your birth?” She asked, her voice
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completely void of expression as an odd mix of dusky blue and lavender flames leapt to life
along her black sword, licking hungrily at the vines that grew too near.
One slender attacker gave an almost human like scream and curled away.
"I'm not that attached to it" Silverthorn replied coolly, her sword slicing through a vine that
reached for her with finger-like tendrils. "Of course at the moment, it seems more attached to me
than I would like." Bushes rustled as they moved closer, vines trying to wind around the darkhaired elf's legs and arms.
S'araia slashed at the plants that threatened her. "I take it this is the welcome wagon?" An odd
grin lit the Captain's face as she danced amongst the attacking plants, her blades moving as
extensions of her arms. "Oh dear, I do hope that wasn't some endangered species...."
The S'Hean Queen swore as a green loop of vegetation wound around one ankle, pulling hard.
She let her blade fall as she grabbed for a nearby tree trunk, trying to remain upright. "Dammit!"
Silver fire blossomed from her fingers, a small fireball shooting towards the plant life. "One of
the Ravens must be an Earth Mage. Hell!"
“YOU THINK?” Remmy howled at Gre as he swung over the other S’Hean’s head. “Look out
belooooooooooooow,” A bit of acrobatics had brought him close enough to cut the vine grasping
his foot, unfortunately he hand not thought much past that part and he came crashing down not
far from his Queen.
The air knocked out of him the chestnut haired elf just stared up into the tree branches for a
moment, getting his bearings until breathing was possible without a sharp stitch in the chest.
Sahar nodded and sliced through another vine, the fire along her blade following back along the
attacker. “Then may I suggest we set a little forest fire? It will be on their heads if it gets out of
control, it seems to me that they need a lesson in cause and effect.”
"Go for it" Silverthorn replied, adding her own little fireballs to the task.
Owen's razor sharp blade had sliced and carved Mira free of several plants, one of which seemed
to have 3-inch thorns and had already ripped the flesh of her left forearm to ribbons. Rage dulled
the pain and in seconds, the sword was sheathed, the dragon-elf choosing to set fire to the woods
on her own. Glowing jade eyes scanned to forest, then riveted on one area, someone was
there...she could smell them...
Silvery waves of heat ignited from her fingers and radiated out, completely engulfed her.
Cropped raven hair lifted and ruffled in the breeze generated by the gathering DragonFire. A low
roar like a distant wall of wind began, a sound like rushing wings and blowing leaves...and from
her outstretched palms, a shield of fire leapt to life, grew until it was as tall as she. Slender hands
swept up and with a growling shout, Mira cast her Rage-born flames into the verdant forest and
smiled as the flames continued to grow and trees began exploding like matchsticks.
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There was a time when she would have wept for the dying trees and all the dwelt in them, but the
coin of her soul had fallen on the Black side when Linnis walked away with her daughter and
nieces...and Blacks as a rule hated green and growing things. The Silver and Elvish in her blood
had lost the battle...she would have back what was hers and those who chose to stand and fight
would die in flames.
***
Mak was an efficient boy and managed to roust his brothers together before he got several
canteens of water.
"Yeah, they really want you all to go down there," he told the twins. "Remember how you
wanted to be part of this all?" he eyed Glory pointedly and nearly flinched when the older boy
shifted. He was quite prepared to get decked again.
"But you're going down with us," Glory pointed out, noting the canteens. "In fact, you get to go
first."
"Fine, whatever," Mak replied, rolling his eyes as they descended from the relative brightness of
the tavern into the dark decay of the tunnel below.
"I bring you two slaves and myself, and water even," Mak called out.
“Slaves are good!” Ro called back, “water is better!”
“Oh good then,” Cully grinned, “we can leave.”
The S’Hean King raised an eyebrow and tossed a nice sized stone to his nephew, who caught it
just at his middle and made a winded noise.
“Right… to work then.” The titian haired elf shoved the rock into Glory’s hands and moved
forward to help his Uncle.
"Nice one, bro," Glory grumbled to his brother before he shoved the rock into Mak's hand and
effectively toppled their younger brother over backward. It was a fortunate thing Mak had
already delivered the water.
Fadil watched the boys and tried very hard to keep the amused gleam out of his eye. "They're
here to help, right? I just ask because so far it looks a little confusing.”
Y’Roden ‘s eyes sparkled over the top of a water container before he handed it over to Fadil.
“Well… they are Alcarin, so far they have stayed pretty accurate to their Father’s definition of
‘help’.”
“Could we hurry things up a bit?” Reece asked. The Mercenary was standing off to one side, his
hands flat on the wall, brow furrowed in concentration. The stone beneath his hands seemed to
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ripple and flow, sweeping out in a gentle wave as if a pebble had been dropped in a pond, the
waves drifting out across the wall and ceiling till they met and mingled with their counterparts
from Malik’s side. “I can only keep this up so long.”
“Right,” Cully yelped, “everyone to work before they drop the ceiling on our heads. Wait… why
are we clearing this out if it's only going to fall in?”
“It won’t,” Ro answered as he started hauling rock, “but they can’t completely solidify the rock
until the way is clear. If they did it now, the rubble would solidify with it and we would never
make it through. So… they keep a clean edge and prevent a cave in, we move the useless stuff,
and then they create a safe passageway.”
“Ooooh… ok… Mak, get up, stop lollygagging.”
Mak just gave both brothers a dirty look and got to his feet. He'd had the wind knocked out of
him after all. He chucked a small bit of rock at Glory and got to work, deciding right then and
there that he'd outdo the twins by working twice as hard.
What he didn't realize is that was probably what Glory and Cully had intended -- well, at least
Glory.
***
Galain had eventually returned to his own room, following the markings he'd made, more adept
now at avoiding disturbing wraiths, over-sized spiders and piles of leftover Orc meals. He was
firmly convinced that he could never have made a decent relationship with Samara. She was
simply an awful housekeeper. That last bit actually had him chuckling a bit when he reached the
door to his room. He stepped inside cautiously, relieved that no one had apparently been here
while he'd been with the children.
It had broken his heart to leave Rhagi and the others behind. He'd desperately wanted to bring
them back with him. At least he had warmth and light -- some decent comfort despite his
previous experience in the dungeon. But to remove them to here would have surely spelled doom
for them all and while Galain could endure the dungeon and torture again, he didn't want the
boys endangered any further than they were already. And it bothered him that he couldn't seem
to locate Fechine.
He was thinking further about Fechine's whereabouts when he felt something new in his mind.
Something other than the continuous hint of images that made him sick with anxiety. Something
other than the headache he'd been living with.
"Tay?" he spoke aloud. "Ghet?" His head tilted and he shut the door behind him.
Far up on the black cliffs that surrounded the cliffs a wedge shaped crimson head tilted towards
the keep, faceted eyes glowing softly in the murk as the Amazon within listened to something the
Dragon could not hear.
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We are here Elleska…
Agaru snaked her neck around to look at the three males accompanying her, then shifted to
watch the milling tide of Nuru’kh-ai far below.
Shadow paused and cast her eyes around the shadow version of the terrain that resembled the
remnants of some long ago battle turned waste land, the usual dusk colours barely shown through
the eerie green mist that even penetrated into this dimension, making the sky look like it had
been washed in blood. It was all more than a little disturbing, even for her.
Taking a deep breath she let go of Ghet and Ash’s hands and headed towards the Keep. “Stay
away from anything that is black, and stay away from those things…” The forest elf pointed
towards the ghostly form of a Nuru’kh-ai, “They’re almost as dangerous here as on the Light
plane.” If she had to, she would go into more detail but had a feeling that it wasn’t the most
important thing at the moment. “The grey areas will help us move faster.”
Going into the shadows with Shady had been something of a test for Ghet's fragile sanity. She
did it because she needed to, and just tried very hard not to think about it, not to... see too much.
Stay away. She could do that.
The touch of Galain's mind made it all worth it. The relief was indescribable. Galain. Oh, gods,
are you all right? We're coming, okay? We're going to get you out. Be ready.
Galain's heart had leaped when he heard first Tay's voice in his mind.
Beloved! He was on his feet and reflexively headed toward the window before he realized that
wouldn't do him any good. Please be careful -- this place is overrun with Nuru’kh-ai.
And then he heard Ghet's voice as well and he was grinning to himself. I'm all right. Stayed in
nicer places than this though. He paused a moment. I've seen Rhagi. He's all right.
Ghet stifled a sob. Quiet. For a moment she just shook with relief. Her son was all right.
Somewhat shakily, she found her way to flip. Yeah, let's not come back here. We should have
known anywhere Ro had hung out a lot would be crap. Shadow will find you. I have... something
else to do. I love you very much; you know that, don't you?
An’Thaya stirred again in response to her husband’s voice, relief flooding her soul. Don’t worry,
we will be careful. Yona Elleska Dai. Just a little longer… and we will have you out of there, I
promise.
What? Galain sent out after Ghet before he ground his teeth. Yes, I love you too, he sent then
realizing she was up to something utterly mad. He turned his attention back to Tay, relaxing
when he sensed her relief.
I'll be ready, love, he answered before he went quiet.
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The Keep was on them almost before Ghet knew it. Even here she could feel it, pulsing with ages
deep hate and rage and pain. For the first time, she wondered if she was strong enough to do this,
if she could be strong enough to have an effect through all that. It would be harder even than
fighting against her own wards.
And then at the last she didn't want to let go of Shadow and Ash. Impulsively, she embraced
Shadow. "I know you'll find him," she said quietly. "Just smack him over the head if he won't
go."
Stepping out of the shadow realm, even into this twilight, was jarring. She was committing
herself utterly. She rather suspected Samara would know as soon as she emerged that something
was wrong. She headed for what she felt was the centre of the feeling she was sensing, walking
openly. At worst she'd run into a bunch of Nuru’kh-ai. As she walked, she let the light of her
own presence flood out from her, almost chuckling as she poured forth joy and love, the lighter
feelings acting as beacon. She'd get found all right.
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Chapter 9
Nuuruhuine walked into the Hall of the Keep, her dark eyes sweeping the room. Ravens and
visitors alike fell silent beneath that gaze, a sense of cool darkness pervading the room as the
Goddess' power followed her like the icy tail of a comet. "I trust our guests have been made
welcome,” she said in a quiet voice.
Caillech bowed. "They have been offered food and warmth, M’Lady," the Chief Raven replied,
her vivid green eyes fixed on the flagstones that covered the floor.
"Good. Entertain Linnis a little longer if you please. It is fitting that you and she get to know one
another well for she is as much your sister as your fellow Ravens."
"As you wish, my Queen." Thick locks of blood red hair concealed the woman's face from view.
"Now." The Battle Goddess held out her hand towards Muirne and the twins. "It is time we
talked. We too should get to know one another. Come, child. Take my hand."
Drysi hesitated, her emerald eyes anxious as they went from the proffered hand to her sister and
back again. "Yse?"
"I shall not harm you. I merely wish to talk. Come, take my hand. Your sister and your cousin
will join us."
The dark-haired little girl walked forwards slowly, her reluctance obvious. There was something
about this woman that she simply did not like. She flinched slightly as Nuuruhuine's hand closed
around her own. The Goddess' fingers were icy cold.
"Good. Now..." The dark haired woman held out her other hand to Yseult.
The platinum haired little girl was slightly more hesitant than her twin. She had somehow
managed to get them into this and there was a sinking feeling in Yse’s heart. Biting her lip she
placed her tiny hand in that of the Goddess, not quite registering the temperature.
Leery, Muirne nodded, "I'll come with you...but I really don't see a point in getting too
comfortable. You won't get to keep us." The little dragon-elf was supremely confident that her
Ill’har and Dera would be here soon, and Muirne had no intentions of lingering any longer than
necessary.
"No? Well, all the more reason for us to get to know one another now, don't you think? Before
the opportunity passes us by." The goddess led the way out of the Hall and back out into the
forest. "Take a look around" she said to the girls. "This is your birthright. It is in your blood. To
deny it is to deny part of yourself."
Drysi's eyes were wide, her breathing a little too fast. There was something about this woman
that made her very scared, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what. "I don't understand. I'm
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not from here. I'm from Whispin,” the dark-haired little girl whispered.
"But your Ammah was from here, wasn't she? Don't you want to know more about where your
Ammah was born?" Nuuruhuine's voice became darkly seductive, winding around the trio,
drawing them into her snare. "I can tell you all about her, about the blood that runs through your
veins... Don't you want to know?"
“Ammah never talks about her birthplace,” Yse said quietly, “I don’t think she liked it here. It’s
not nice here… its dark… and I haven’t seen a lake or waterfall anywhere. We need water… we
need S’Hea… if you don’t let us go back… we’ll go mad.” The little girl was young, but not
stupid. Like every S’Hean she was tied to the land, a connection that sang in her blood and
demanded her return at regular intervals.
"Insanity is not always the curse that mortals believe," the Goddess said with a slow smile. "If
you don't believe me, ask your Ammah. She can tell you all about what it is like to be crazy."
Dark eyes scanned the forests around them. "Your Ammah loved it here once. It was her home
and she belonged. She still does, and so do you. You may be S'Hean on your father's side, child,
but your mother was Tauremornan and the blood sings in your veins as loudly as the lure of the
water."
Muirne was paying little attention to the goddess, her attention span was dwindling
sharply...until insanity was mentioned.
"My Gran Ill’harn was insane..." Muirne replied and nodded. "But I don't think anyone ever
called that a blessing. He tore down half the Keep on his own...and everyone left before they
died...and there's still scorch marks if you know where to look...But...why do you want to keep
them here?"
Muirne was beginning to suspect she really and truly didn't like this goddess. She was mean to
tell Yse and Drysi that they could just go insane...
"Because this is where they belong, where all three of you belong, and isn't that the best place for
anyone to be?" Nuuruhuine said to the little dragon-elf.
"I don't belong here. I belong with Ammah and Addah and Fechine and the others,” Drysi
pronounced suddenly, her emerald eyes gleaming with a stubbornness that she had inherited
from both of her parents. "I want to go home."
"Sweetheart, you are home,” the Goddess said simply.
***
The torches guttered, stirred by a breeze rank with death and howling with pain, seeking to snuff
out the light. There were voices in the air, ghosts of the past that screamed in pain, whispered in
seduction… promises of pleasures and agonies undreamt of. One voice was stronger than them
all, laced with venom, dripping with hate.
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“It took you long enough… little whore. I’ve been waiting a very long time…”
A scrape of metal on leather was the only warning as two hulking Nuru’kh-ai descended on the
redhead, clawed hands closing on Ghet’s biceps and yanking the small woman off her feet.
“It is time… to play a game. I know how much you love games… especially the ones that
involve lots of screaming.” There was a pause, and a quiet laugh. “Perhaps we should let Galain
watch? Your two partners here don’t mind an audience. Of course… it would be much more fun
with the other little slut… but one can only ask for so much.”
For a moment, Ghet was utterly possessed with rage. The Demoness was responsible for so
much of Ghet's pain. Taking her husband, taking her son, the rape she'd endured, having to kill
Ro... back, and back, her memory followed the trail to her first encounters with Ro... and the
hatred slipped away. If it weren't for what Samara had done to Ro when he was a youth, Ghet
and Ro would not have connected as they did. They would never have been lovers. If it weren't
for the demon, Ghet would never have had Rhagi. She never would have let go the part of herself
that had led to her becoming her husband's ecstatic slave. When she raised her head, she was
smiling gently.
It took an effort of will not to fight against the Orcs that held her. Her skin crawled under their
touch, their stink worse than the pain of their grip. "And what about you, Samara? Will you
satisfy yourself with just watching? Don't you want to know, what it was that took Ro from your
power so many times? Don't you want to taste my blood for yourself? Hear my screams right...
in... your... ear... You want me, darling, you come get me yourself."
Samara stepped from the shadows, almost seeming to be one of them herself at first. Glowing
crimson eyes focused on the redhead for a moment and a cruel grin lifted the edge of the
Demoness’ lip. “Oh don’t worry, eager one, you’ll get your turn with me. Unfortunately, I
promised the boys first dibs. They were most unhappy about the entire Galain thing… I didn’t
give them very much playtime with him… his screams…” An expression of rapture lit Samara’s
face, “utterly symphonic… Elves have such beautiful voices. He wasn’t terribly resilient, a little
disappointing in the long run.”
She looked thoughtful for a moment, “I don’t think he really liked my pet. Perhaps you would
like to meet it? Or maybe not… I have something else in mind for you… my dear.” A pale hand
gestured to the Nuru’kh-ai, “Bring her, I want her strapped to the rack.”
The Beasts grunted and chortled in amusement, hauling Ghet down the hall towards the open
door.
Ghet fought for a moment, pure reflex. Galain... She knew her husband well, knew the darker
edge to his appetites that he mostly kept tamped. The thought of Samara hurting him was almost
more than she could bear, rage and frustration driving her to lash out uselessly.
Galain and Rhagi. That's why she was here. She could want to kill Samara all she liked, it
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wouldn't get her anywhere. But she could annoy the crap out of her. "What, I get a surprise?" she
purred. "Just for little old me? My husband does scream beautifully. I hope I won't disappoint
you. Though I have been told I scream like an angel. But then, you know that, don't you?"
A sibilant hiss expressed Samara’s displeasure, but she kept her distance as the two hulking
brutes strapped the redhead to the rack. “You’ll have to excuse the mess… my goodness,
Galain’s blood has made a terrible mess of your clothing… Ah well, you won’t be needing those
for long…. After all.”
***
"We should just finish them off and be done with it instead of this messing about with plants"
one of the Ravens said, her grey-green eyes cold. The quartet crouched unseen on an overhanging crag high above the river that cut through the forest of the Tauremorna like a silvery
thread. Nearby a massive waterfall crashed down upon rocks as sharp and jagged as the dagger
for which they were named.
"They will be, Bronagh. Have no fears about that," Seanait said, "won't they, Rhan?" Her hazel
gaze went to the petite dark-haired woman that led them.
She nodded. "Indeed. Mythrae, I believe it is time you invited some of your friends to the party."
Her smile was malicious.
The earth mage laughed, grey eyes sparkling. "With pleasure." Concentrating, she scented the
wind. A smile curved her lips as she found what she was seeking. Pack brothers, greetings! The
ebony-haired huntress sent to the werewolves that lurked within the dark fringes of the forest. I
bring offers of a hunt, fresh meat...
Silverthorn swung around as a howl echoed off the nearby mountains. Swearing she turned to the
others, "Werewolves" she bit out. "We need to get out of here. Now."
“Oh,” Remmy muttered, “oh good… first attack foliage, now cranky puppies. What’s next? Over
affectionate felines?” He didn’t have to be told twice however, and scaled the nearest tree with
typical S’Hean grace. The elf was still sooty and his lungs hurt from the fire that seemed to have
burned itself out… or had been put out. It was difficult to tell.
S'araia reached into a small pouch she wore on her belt, a miniature version of the bags Brianna
and Kaelan often carried and pulled out a canteen of water. She scaled a tree near the one
Remmy had chosen and tossed the canteen towards him, after she'd caught his attention of
course... "Look at it this way, the busier some of them are kept with us, the less they can be
doing to the girls..."
"That depends on how many Nuuruhuine sent after us," Silverthorn said coolly, scrambling up
onto a nearby branch. She placed her hand against the trunk as a wave of queasiness washed over
her. She didn't need this, not now, she told herself firmly, taking deep breaths. Every one of her
pregnancies had resulted in her feeling horribly sick right from the beginning, and if she was
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really unlucky almost up to the end.
With casual grace, Mira leaned against the trunk of a mother oak. A tarnished silver blade slid
from beneath the flesh at her wrist and the dragon-elf began paring her nails and muttering to
herself. Black dragons, by nature, hated were-wolves, they were viewed as wasteful, wormy
mutts, and Mira'd be damned if she hid in a tree.
"Gods damned were-wolves...filthy, mange-ridden, flea infested, foul smelling..." Jade eyes
lifted as Mira sniffed the air.
"Anyone up for roast dog? I hear..." Mira began walking deeper into the forest, "They're a
delicacy in some cultures..."
"Mira! Dammit, come back here!" Silverthorn hissed, her eyes closing and the elf whitening as
another wave of sickness washed over her. "Hell!" She dropped back down to the ground and set
off after the dragon elf.
"What's the matter, Nasse? Scared of a few lapdogs?" Mira's eyes were glowing softly as she
looked over her shoulder at her sister-in-law. With every step, dark scale feathered across her
nose and cheeks, then slid across her skin. Two more steps and the dragon-elf faded, replaced
with a near-black dragon. Sparkling jade eyes with serpentine pupils scanned the forest.
"Think they'll notice me if I hide behind that tree?" Mira whispered in a deep, rumbling voice as
her neck curved around sinuously. Silverthorn was nose to snout with the dragon Mira really
was. A couple of wuffles to the elf later, and completely heedless of the baying pack closing in,
the tarnished Silver cocked her four foot head to the side and peered at Silverthorn, "You're not
getting queasy are you?"
"I'm barely restraining the urge to throw up and you damn well know it," the dark-haired elf shot
back. She took a deep breath and continued in a cold voice "You want to play hide and seek with
a pack of werewolves? Fine, go right ahead. I'll tell Muirne when I see her that her Ill’har was
more concerned with playing stupid games than saving her own child. I wonder what she would
think about that?"
Remmy eyed S'araia over the water skin as he took a good long drink, “I don’t suppose anyone
thought to bring any silver tipped arrows?” he asked, tossing the thing back. “You know,” he
lowered his voice, “Her Majesty doesn’t look like she is feeling very well. What are they doing
down there? Oh hey! Wait… I have some silver coins here… somewhere… I bet if we melted
them with handfire we could coat our arrow tips… if we bloody well have time…” The elf
started digging through his pockets, “Gold… no… copper… no… aha!”
Unaware of the fast-thinking Remmy's plan, Mira's serpentine eyes peered at her sister-in-law.
With a snort, Mira shoved her huge head up against Silverthorn, putting her snout to nose with
the elf. Jade eyes almost crossed as she peered down at Silverthorn.
"Nasse? I know what path I'm walking, I've seen it before, I've lived through it. I don't want
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Muirne to do the same. Part of me is screaming he'll come back...but that's only a thin
thread...one that is being swallowed by the darkness. Take to the trees. You give me too little
credit to hold my own.
Mira's snout nudged Thorn gently, and as she did, a glimmering of a change was offered to the
elf. She could accept it, or not. The choice was hers...but what Mira had set in motion in
Silverthorn's body was a sliver of dragon magic, an altering of the very fabric of her being...and
just enough to take the edge off the queasiness.
"I'm not afraid of the Dogs of War...and you forget, if I start to lose, I can take to the air, you
cannot."
That said, Mira nudged her again, pushing her back to the trees and turned her body around with
deliberate ponderous moves. Let them think her slow and heavy...it was a fatal mistake made by
many in the past...and today would be no different.
"And you forget that I can," her sister-in-law said softly. "This is my territory, Mira. I know this
place. My ancestors gained our name for a reason, and I am very much their descendent. Far
more so than my brother. Fight if you choose to fight, but be assured that I will go nowhere
without you. I could not live with myself if I did that."
She took a deep breath, accepting the magic in the spirit that it was offered and feeling her
stomach settle somewhat as she did so. "Let loose the dogs of war," she murmured, "and let the
ravens feed."
***
A woman entering the Hall cast a curious glance at the three young girls as they left with
Nuuruhuine before heading towards Caillech. Her white hair, cropped short at her high
cheekbones, was a dramatic contrast to her dark complexion, her colouring betraying her Drow
ancestry. Garbed in the dark, practical garments that seemed common amongst the Ravens, twin
swords were carried in sheaths down her back, the hilts protruding above her shoulders.
"Guests?" the newcomer asked the redhead in an abrupt tone. Her eyes as they shifted towards
the brunette standing near her leader proved to be crimson in colour. "Who's this?"
"The Divine One has a new pet," came a scornful voice from amongst the group of Ravens
gathered near the hearth. A teenage girl stalked forward, her long, brown ponytail swinging
down her spine as she moved. Amber eyes ran over Linnis, a sneer curling the girl's lip.
Linnis had reluctantly let the girls go with the Goddess. She didn't feel comfortable leaving them
alone in this strange place. But she knew Nuuruhuine wouldn't let anything happen to them. The
brunette's blue eyes went to the Drow who had entered, then to the young girl who had spoken
up. Great, a Drow, that's all I need, she thought, but took her attention away from the whitehaired woman. "Is there something wrong?" Linnis asked arching an eyebrow. What the hell is
wrong with everyone here? Why do they all have a problem with me? She mused. All she'd been
through to get the girls here, the outright lying and the subterfuge. Sticking her neck on the line
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on more than one occasion. She did think they'd be a little more appreciative.
"Wrong? Oh no, there's nothing wrong," the teenager replied in a sarcastic tone. "Only four
incompetents we need to take care of turning up on our doorstep. Why are you here? You don't
belong."
"Ciara," Caillech said in a warning tone and the younger girl fell silent. Her amber eyes held a
sullen look.
"I was just saying,” she mumbled, "She's got no right."
"And who are you to say I don't belong, little one?" Linnis asked in an even tone restraining
herself from walking up to the girl and slapping her. "I assure you, I am far from incompetent,
and if you have a problem with me I suggest you take your concerns to Nuuruhuine." A slight
smile curved the brunette's lips.
Ciara's eyes flashed with anger. "Little one?" She stalked forward until she was nose to nose with
the other brunette. The two women were of the same height and could easily meet one another's
eyes. "I have earned my place here," she spat, "I was chosen to be a Raven for my ability, not
because I was naive enough to assist the Goddess with getting her hands on the people she really
wants. You think Nuuruhuine wants you? Don't be a fool. It's not you she's taken off for a private
conversation, is it? Oh no. It's those three girls you brought with you."
"Ciara, that will do!" Caillech put one hand on the fifteen-year-old's shoulder and pushed her
back firmly as she interposed herself between the two women. "You heard the Phantom Queen's
words. We are to make them all welcome. Even this one."
"She does have a point, Caillech. We all know Nuuruhuine believes in training girls from a
young age," the Drow commented in her abrupt manner. "This one," crimson eyes gave Linnis a
brief glance, "is too old."
Blue eyes never wavered from the amber of Ciara's. "And who brought them here? I did, not any
of you. That should prove something." Her eyes flickered briefly to Caillech. "Please let her
speak, I'm quite happy to show how wrong the little one is." Inwardly Ciara's comments gave
Linnis pause for thought. Was Nuuruhuine using her? Surely not! The Goddess cared about her
and the children. She was just trying to make them welcome. It's these I'm going to have trouble
with. The brunette tried to ignore Xullrae; she wasn't interested in what any Drow had to say.
"No, Ciara needs to mind her tongue," Caillech said shortly, her vivid green eyes holding the
teenager's amber until they dropped. "Right or wrong, it is none of our business. The Phantom
Queen will reveal all at the moment of her choosing, and not before. It's a fool who thinks
otherwise."
"True," a quiet voice said in a calm tone. "Which makes this whole debate academic, don't you
think?" Tala joined the small group, her brown eyes meeting those of the woman she had met
only recently. "It is never a good idea to try to predict the whys and wherefores of Nuuruhuine's
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actions. She is a goddess, with all the unpredictability that implies. Ciara, will you replace me on
sentry duty please?"
Caillech nodded, gesturing to the girl to go. With a last derisive snort she left.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Linnis," Tala continued smoothly, ignoring the
teenager's small rebellion. "I believe you have just met Xullrae?" The brunette gestured towards
the dark-skinned drowess.
Blue eyes narrowed at Ciara's exit then her face changed at Tala's greeting, "thank you Tala,” she
said. "Yes I've met her," came the short response, the brunette not even bothering to look in the
Drow's direction.
"Not good enough for you, am I?" Xullrae bit out, her crimson eyes narrowing at Linnis' attitude.
"Or perhaps you think you're too good for us? Is that it, bitch?" The white-haired woman's hand
lashed out, striking the brunette across the cheek.
"Damn it, Xullrae..." Tala began, but the drowess cut her off with an abrupt gesture.
"No, I won't apologize, so don't even suggest it. This little whore has been looking down on most
of us since the moment she arrived. She thinks she can walk in as if she owns the place just
because the Queen has shown her a few favours. Well, guess what. She's wrong."
Blazing blue eyes turned on Xullrae. "No, I just think I'm too good for you Drow," came Linnis'
response, the word Drow spat out as if it was dirty. She grabbed the white-haired woman by the
shirt and slammed her hard against the wall, lifting her up to eye level. "Don't you EVER touch
me again you dark-skinned bitch. I know what your kind is like, skulking in the dark, doing
whatever the hell you please. Well not with me!" The brunette's face was hard. She hated Drows.
They had taken her, humiliated her, killed her family and she just wanted to kill them.
Xullrae's crimson eyes blazed with fury, her elbow driving hard into Linnis' abdomen, before she
launched herself forward, her shift in weight taking both women to the stone-flagged floor with a
crash. The drowess drove her fist down into the brunette's face.
Suddenly she was hauled to her feet and pushed away violently, spitting curses in the language
of her ancestors. "That will do!" Caillech snapped, her vivid green eyes almost unbearably bright
as they gleamed with temper. "I am the leader here, and you will obey me, Xullrae." The darkskinned woman glared at the redhead, but fell silent beneath her gaze. "As for you," she turned to
Linnis, "if you ever lay a hand on one of my Ravens again there won't be enough of you left to
feed the carrion eaters. You have something against Drow? Then you'd better take yourself out of
here because virtually all of us have at least some dark elf blood somewhere in our ancestry...
and if you pick a fight with one Raven, you pick a fight with them all. I do hope we understand
one another."
A hand went to wipe the blood away from her face as Linnis looked up with cold anger. "Oh yes
I understand, just tell your pet Drow to stay away from me. Otherwise," her blue eyes going to
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pointedly to Xullrae, "there's going to be an unfortunate accident."
"I'd be less keen to deride Xullrae under the circumstances if I were you" Scathach said in her
usual cool quiet manner. A pale hand was offered to the brunette, the oddly ghost-like woman
helping Linnis to her feet and deliberately drawing her away from the others. "Given your own
ancestry."
There was a certain amount of hesitation as Linnis accepted the proffered hand, a temptation to
look over her shoulder and glare at the other Ravens. A quizzical look crossed her face, "what do
you mean? What of my ancestry?" she asked the pale woman.
A white brow rose above pale grey eyes. "I was under the impression that the twins called you
sister. You are Arianne Badb Catha's child, are you not?" Scathach said with a certain amount of
surprise. She tilted her head slightly to one side, her gaze assessing, "or is that you just don't
know your mother as well as you think? You carry as much Drow blood as everyone else in this
room, more than some. The Badb Catha family is known for it. Why do you think the call of the
dark is so strong within you?"
An incredulous look befell Linnis' face. "What?" she said simply, not quite believing what she
had just heard. "I hardly know my mother at all,” she said quietly.
"So I have gathered" Scathach replied, shaking her head slightly. "Perhaps you ought to consider
that fact a little more when you attempt to justify your actions these past few days. Arianne never
was one to tolerate betrayal." Then the pale-skinned woman turned and walked away.
***
A few hours in the depths of the earth with nothing but handfire for light were enough to drive a
S’Hean elf around the bend. Several times Ro had ordered everyone back out of the tunnel for a
break, the weary bunch clambering up the ladder and stumbling out into the sunlight for a breath
of fresh air and a good long drink of water. Then, just as wearily, filed back into the Inn and
down into the darkness.
True, he could have let someone else do it, but work kept the King’s mind off his wife and his
missing children. Off the fate of two Kingdoms and his place in the scheme of things. For a
while, there was simply rock and dirt and the necessity to move it elsewhere.
“How’s it going up there?” he called up to Malik and Reece who were sealing part of the tunnel.
“Good… good,” Malik responded, “almost finished…” There was silence for a few minutes.
“There… ok, its safe. The tunnel is clear for a good twenty feet from here…. Then it gets pretty
rough.”
“Right,” Cully muttered from somewhere behind his Doro. “Let’s get up there then.”
Bantering and tomfoolery between Glory and Mak had stopped long ago and Glory leaned
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against his own twin brother for a moment before he squeezed Cully's shoulder and beckoned to
Mak who stepped forward. In the dim light one couldn't see much though it was more than
obvious they were all filthy and tired.
Cully’s eyes were owlish in the dark, the usual cat slit pupils rounded out until they almost
swallowed the sea green iris and reflecting what little light was to be had in the tunnel. Running
his fingers along the wall for balance the young elf followed after Y’Roden. It occurred to him
that it was rather odd, how small he felt next to his Uncle sometimes. They were of equal height,
though Ro was heavier built. Perhaps it was a personality thing?
Reece’s muttering broke the titian haired elf out of his inane though process and he peered
around Ro’s massive shoulder as the Mercenary emerged from the tunnel wall.
“Well, the good news is, the tunnel ends about thirty feet on.”
“And the bad news?” Ro asked hesitantly.
“About fifteen of that is near solid rock.”
The King of S’Hea stared at the other man in the darkness for a moment, then slumped against
the wall.
“What happened?”
“Difficult to tell really. Some sort of incredibly hot implosion melted the rock.”
“Ooooh… shit.” The half-elf actually beat his head off the rock a few times in frustration. There
was no way through… and it was his fault.
“You are going to give yourself a concussion,” Malik observed dryly. “Reece and I both have the
SandShadow ability.”
Emerald greens flickered open and Ro turned his head to look at the Obsidian nomad. “How
many can you take through? I mean, I know it can be done…” His gaze went to Reece; he knew
the man had rescued Summerlin from the dungeons of Alcarinque. He hadn’t done it by walking
by the guards… the only option left had been going straight through the walls.
The two men further down the tunnel exchanged a glance.
“One… we can take one each. No more. Beyond that it gets difficult to keep the molecular
structure accurate.”
“Great…” Ro muttered, “An infiltration team of four… we’ll overwhelm them easily then won’t
we.”
***
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A cloud of crystal bubbles drifted on the icy breeze, filling the air with a tinkling symphony that
rose and fell with the movements of the great dragon that shifted among them. His wedge shaped
head glittered with opaline scales that did little to hide silvery veins pulsing with life’s blood,
and one great eye with a facet iris tracked the movement of a single globe. He was, at present,
ignoring the somewhat larger black that hovered near by, seemingly unaware of its liquid gold
gaze.
Reclined between his pumping wings lay Jaran Morelen, his platinum tressed head resting the
base of the Crystal Dragon’s neck. Three of the crystal orbs balanced on his fingertips, orbiting
one another in a slow glittering dance.
“Well… it seems you are correct Chezlar Khor,” the God said lightly, “my brother has
overstepped his bounds. However… Fionna Aedui is not a child of Whispin; there is naught I
can do. You will have to address the subject with the Gods of Elemmiire.”
“Fionna may not be under your jurisdiction, but she is under mine,” the Changeling responded,
brushing a cloud of bubbles aside in irritation. “However, you are well aware that isn’t my point.
She will doubtless attempt a trade, and she is my charge.”
Soul tilted his head, interested, apparently, now that the topic had shifted slightly. Turning his
great head at an impossible angle he regarded the God of Light with questioning eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jaran grumbled, “I didn’t cause the situation, go stare at
Haldanuru.” A glittering eye ridge rose slightly in response and the God snorted in amusement,
lobbing a crystal ball at his companion’s head.
“What do the Fates have to say Messenger?”
“Nothing, as of yet, I have the nagging suspicion this is all part of their design… another pattern
on the loom. However… I am growing tired of the game. She is more than just a charge, she is a
friend, and one I’ve watched suffer more times than I care to think of. They always say there is a
reason for it… but I have yet to see that come to fruition.”
“Patience, Chezlar, you would think one as old as you would have learned the benefits of
patience… Regardless, it is not for you to decide. Do as you are told, not as you would wish it.
They told you when she was put under your care that her destiny lay in the Shadows; light
forever swallowed by the darkness. If you interfere, the results may be catastrophic.” A snort
came from the Crystal Dragon and Jaran’s clear blue eyes darted to the beast. “Don’t you even
think about it.”
Chez suddenly shifted from draconic form to humanoid, softly feathered black wings flaring out
as he drifted down, heavy boots landing along Soul’s spine. “I know where they are going with
all this,” he addressed the God, “and I’m not so certain I agree with it. The path is dangerous… it
might very well kill her.”
“Well, that is why you are her guardian Chezlar, to make sure that it doesn’t. You know who,
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you know when, and you know how. Just see to it that the Fate’s design is followed… and all
will be well. In the mean time, I believe you are needed in Corin, and Tenobrous as well, Lord of
Time. You have more than just one charge, this is no time to be playing favourites.” A globe was
tossed, and caught deftly in the Changeling’s massive hands. Golden eyes gazed at the God from
beneath a curtain of ebony hair, and the behemoth looked as if he might protest for a moment,
and then seemed to think better of it.
“As you wish.” An explosion of gold essence rained through the sky as the Prince of Inligh
departed, returning to a plane far beyond mortal eyes.
“You know,” Jaran commented to Soul, “it is incredibly difficult to mould the shape of destiny
when you people keep waxing sympathetic.”
The dragon blinked, then promptly rolled over, dumping Jaran unceremoniously off his back.
***
The view from the balcony Tallin stood on was not as pristine as it had once been. The charred
remnants of the marketplace stretched blackened fingers into the broken city, as if trying to claw
away from the tainted castle. The streets were silent… the people remaining indoors, blanketing
Corin in an eerie quiet.
The Demon mage’s knuckles were white, his hands hard on the stone railing as he stared out at
the armies beyond the walls. “What in the name of Haldanuru are they waiting for?” he hissed in
irritation, “Where is that whelp nephew of mine?”
Mysti lay on the bed; body sated and mind as eased as it could be for the moment. One hand
lazily twirled a lock of hair around a finger as she suddenly realized just what Melaina had said
on the field. And what it meant. A smile curved her lips and she watched her husband, waiting to
tell him the news. He could use a little good news after all....
Pausing in his mini tirade Tallin turned to look at his wife, her eyes upon him almost as physical
as a caress. Ice blue eyes traveled the length of her form till they met her gaze and his own grew
questioning.
"Something Melaina said on the field, Husband... About a treasure I carry...She was right."
Mystical stood, stretching her lithe form in the light from the window. The smile still graced her
face as she made her way towards her soul mate. "As for your nephew, I do believe he has his
hands full. You did say it was about time for that bitch of a goddess to do her part, yes?" There
was just a hint of venom in her tone there. Mystical really wasn't pleased with that particular
deity at all...
Tallin managed to look startled for two very different reasons. “Yes… perhaps Linnis actually
managed to pull it off. That would explain Y’Roden’s absence.” His expression softened slightly,
“Treasure? Already? How do you know?” Moving across the room he seated himself on the bed
and placed both hands over the Abjurer’s abdomen, “are you sure?”
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Mysti placed her hands over his, and reached for the power of their child's soul. "I can feel the
power he or she will wield, my love... the joined power of our souls... As for the already, all that
needs to happen for an Ali-maera to conceive is for both parties to will it so. You'd already told
me you wished for an heir, I'd already given my bond to give you one... 'Twas enough of a
conscious desire for a child to grant us one when next we were alone...” Her hands were gentle
as they ran through his hair, a lover's stroke
For a fleeting moment, Grendorin shone past what he had become, responding to his wife and
child with gentle emotion. A flickering of what he might have been… had life not drawn him
down the darkest of paths. “Gods,” he murmured softly, “you are so beautiful Mystical…” A
smile lit his features before the madness bled back into his eyes and the Mage leaned down to
kiss her, “Let’s make doubly sure… hmmm?” A low laugh later and he had completely forgotten
his previous thoughts out on the balcony, his attention focused purely on the beauty beneath him.
***
Shadow paused on the edge of the Shadow Realm and cast her senses forward, searching for
danger on the other side. A flicker of what looked to be a ghost snagged at her senses and she
quickly zoned in, quietly taunting the Nuru’kh-ai, encouraging the guard forward. Shifting her
focus, the forest elf cast her influence into the beast’s shadow, her eyes shifted colours and a
look of concentration etched into her face as she struggled to master the dark being. Victory
crossed her face, as the shadow bent to her will, tearing itself away from its host and turning on
it. It was like a puppet, and Shadow pulled the strings turning it into a deadly assassin that
strangled its counterpoint.
The forest elf nodded in satisfaction, touching Ash’s arm long enough to draw her out of the
Shadow Realm and into the hallway. The dull light that was cast by a torch some ways down the
hall, creating ever-shifting monsters on the walls. In a fluid motion, Shadow spun around, her
arm shooting out to grasp the freed shadow’s throat even as she drew one of the wicked looking
daggers from her waist. Without pause, she slashed it across the being’s throat. Light sprouted
from the hand that grasped the creature, and slipped through the unseen opening. The Shadow
Being sizzled, jerked and disappeared, the thief pulled the mate to the dagger in her hand.
“You have dibs on the next one,” she flashed a grin at her companion, turning her attention to
seeking Galain.
Light pulsed along the thread that marked her in the tapestry of her family, her soul recognizing a
creation from itself as it connected with the necklace and felt it reply. She knew that the physical
manifestation would be it growing warm to the touch, the green and silver mist growing more
active.
“That direction…”
Galain's stomach was twisting in knots. He had a terrible feeling about what was happening to
affect the rescue of himself and the boys. He didn't like it at all, but at this point he was helpless
to do anything about it. He spat out a few expletives and then felt the warmth on his chest. The
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necklace Shadow had given him long ago at the Green Heart was alive. The stone swirled with
activity and the elf knew Shadow was coming. He prayed he had no Nuru’kh-ai visitors before
she arrived and he paced the width of the room twice before he suddenly headed toward the door
and flattened his back against the wall, prepared to either attack or welcome whomever came
through the door next.
Nodding in silence, it was a wide-eyed Ash that followed Shadow. Even after so many long
years of dwelling in Tenobrous, the S'Hean had never expected to see what lay on the backside
of all that was solid and real. The shadow lands had been terrifying, but at the same time, elvish
curiosity had begged her to stay and marvel. Perhaps she and this woman of shadows needed to
have a long talk after this was over?
"Aye, I'll take the next one...I have your back...you led on..."
Shadow nodded, a flicker of a grin dancing across her face as she did so. She rather liked the
S’Hean, though they hadn’t said much to each other. But then again if you weren’t smelly, didn’t
tick her off, or weren’t a human, specifically male, you were okay in her book. Briefly she made
a mental note to show her two passengers that the shadow lands weren’t as dreary as their first
trip before shoving it aside and focusing once again.
The forest elf closed her eyes slowly and took a step forward, blindly following something that
only she could see in the dank darkness. It was hard to explain what she followed, and in a way
she hoped she never had to explain it. Other families had a web that kept them together, but her
own? A tapestry that accepted others and showed the time that was spent with a Silverleaf,
forever leaving a mark on their life so that they could find them again, if they desired to do
so…which explained the often over pouring presence of ghosts in their family.
Each had their own loom in their soul that worked on a section of the Great Tapestry that held
them together and tied them to their ancestors and beyond, back and back until that one star
exploded in the night sky. What she followed now was a part of that. A single fibre from the
thread of her life. It called to her with the alluring song of a siren, seeking comfort like a
Taurësúlë sought comfort in the branches of their Birth-tree.
She was putting an awful lot of trust in Ash on this and she hoped the S’Hean wouldn’t let her
down.
In silence they slipped down the hall. Shadow following the beacon of the necklace that was
nestled against the thread that represented Galain.
Suddenly the forest elf turned, her eyes flying open to stare at the scarred wooden door to
Galain's room. With a deep breath she shifted and stepped through, grinning when she met sea
green eyes. "You're becoming more like our Otorno, more trouble than you're worth." The corner
of her lips curled up as she winked. Turning solid, she pulled open the door and grinned at Ash.
"Shall we find our wayward Princes? I'm starting to miss Morgan and Taylon's chaos."
The ever-quiet Ash nodded and eyed Galain, "I am surprised even a demon bitch could survive
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with not only Galain Alcarin, but Morgan, Taylon, Rhagi and Caolan all gathered in one place.
Add Fechine to the mix?" A faint flicker of a dark smile curved her mouth, "I dare say, had we
waited a little longer, Samara would have returned them of her own free will. They'd eat her out
of house and home..." Moving with fluid, deadly grace, Ash moved closer to Galain, "Milord
Alcarin... let us be away from here... for despite my suspicions, I doubt Samara will be overly
excited about our intentions."
Galain had relaxed as the necklace around his own neck had grown warmer, but nevertheless
he'd still been startled when Shadow had appeared as she did. He gave her a dirty look, then
managed a smile, relieved to see both women.
"Samara keeps herself busy with other things besides myself or the boys," he said softly. "I
haven't seen nor heard from her since..." he stopped speaking and frowned. He'd quite lost track
of time here.
"Follow me," he said then. "I found the boys not too long ago. Had to leave them before anything
around here figured out what I've been up to. Fechine's not with them and I haven't had the
chance to find him."
***
Galain's blood. Ghet inhaled deeply, but she couldn't catch her husband's scent above the stink of
the Orcs. It wouldn't be the first time Galain's blood had stained her clothes; he was just usually
here for it. As much as she could move, she turned her head to Samara and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm surprised you've been wasting your time playing with Galain. I would have thought you'd
have been busy with Fechine. Unless... oh honey, will he not break for you? Or is it just that he's
not a patch on his father?"
Samara was silent for a moment, apparently distracted with something on the other side of the
room. There was an angry screech and the sound of something solid and wet struggling against
glass. “I am an equal opportunity Demoness,” she said finally, “Fechine and I had a lovely time
together. A little easier to break than his Sire… but definite promise… the raven form is a nice
touch too. Definitely unsettling for those weaker of mind.”
The two Nuru’kh-ai that had bound Ghetsuhm to the table stepped back hurriedly as Samara
reappeared from the shadows, a glass canister held firmly in one set of taloned fingers.
Amusement betrayed itself in blood red eyes, “case in point.”
Lifting the glass up to the redhead’s eyelevel Samara smiled malevolently and stroked the cool
surface. What appeared to be a blind, slimy white slug thrashed about inside, seeking escape.
“You seem to care a great deal about my Y’Roden,” she said in a deceptively soft tone, “so I will
tell you a bit about him. The glorious creature that he once was… until his sister took him from
me. No one… has ever danced with agony like him… so creative… so beautiful…” The tone of
the siren’s voice was wistful, longing.
“These were a favourite toy of his… he had a talent for recognizing the tools in nature, and this
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one was one of his more ingenious discoveries. You probably do not recognize it in larva form…
but this… my dear, is one of the great SandWyrms in the making.”
Pale fingers curled into the front of Ghet’s shirt, tearing it open with sharp pull. “Their mating
process if fascinating. Y’Roden use to spend hours observing them… you see, after she mates
with a male, the female kills him. Which is why all of the largest beasts are female… the males
all die relatively young. The mother to be, lays her eggs in the males carcass… and the larvae
feed on their own father’s body while they grow.”
A sharp talon raked down Ghet’s abdomen, drawing a thick line of blood that let off steam in the
cold air. The larvae’s struggles became more aggressive, responding to the scent. “Your dear
Rodi discovered that by harvesting the young larvae… he could implant them in a victim… and
watch them be digested from the inside out. Usually something he saved for men,” Samara’s lip
curled up in a smirk, “but… I think we can make an exception this time… yes?”
"Thanks but no thanks," Ghet said, her voice shaking a little. "I know far more about your
Y'Roden than I would ever care to. It's not him I care about."
She watched the sandworm larva with a sick fascination. She understood exactly the process that
Samara was describing, and that mad part of her brain was thinking, Great. Every time I get
something stuck inside me its Ro's fault. This wasn't at all what she'd expected to happen, and her
flesh shrank back from Samara's touch. She bit her lip, struggling against the screams that she
knew were going to come anyway, desperate not to give Samara the pleasure. Gods, she thought,
her eyes pressing shut, get Galain out of here, please. The cut deepened, and she did scream, at
the same time her body reacting against her will, translating the pain into something almost as
difficult to deal with: dark, sordid pleasure.
She fought it, panting, opening her eyes again. "How long were you intending to keep gloating?
I'm just wondering. Oh, except..." she sucked in a breath for a moment, wrestling the pain. "I
think, if you had broken Fechine, you'd have him here. Show off your toy. So I just... don't...
believe you." She could feel her own hot blood, soaking her trousers, and her head was starting
to spin.
“The boy needed rest,” Samara purred, “what more can I say? Now… I think it is time for my
little pet to become acquainted with his host.” The Demoness could smell Ghet’s fear, taste her
pleasure, and it made her heady with power.
The lid gave a slight scrape as pale hands pulled it free, carefully positioning the opening over
the redhead’s abdomen. The larvae shrieked eagerly, a small mouth appearing in one end that
revealed rows of tiny sharp teeth. Burying what passed for a head into the bloody wound it
chewed its way through flesh and muscle, the remainder of its body thrashing wildly as it pushed
itself deeper. “Aw... look,” Samara singsonged, “He is hungry… poor little fellow.”
"Funny," Ghet ground out, "The young usually have such wonderful stamina." She might have
had no regard for his mother, but Fechine was a good kid. Still, he didn't have a giant grub
burrowing its way into his stomach (so far as she knew), so she'd just worry about herself for
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now.
Chewing was the wrong sort of pain. The cutting she could have... channelled, but the chewing
was all wrong. Even through the pain the touch of the thing on her skin was disgusting. Gods,
she could feel... no one should be able to feel their own internal organs move. She screamed
again, latching on to her husband's soul in panic, hiding from what was happening to her. It
wasn't real, it couldn't be real. She twisted, fighting by reflex, uselessly. She knew her reaction
was pleasing Samara, but what could she do about it?
She opened her eyes again, and fought to smile. Her mind was slipping. It was all for a reason. "I
love them," she whispered. It was the most she could manage to say, but her control was eroding,
and that gentle love that would let her die for her family bled out from her. Then the pain
intensified again, and her head shot back, and all she gave off was agony.
As the tail end of the grub disappeared into Ghetsuhm’s flesh Samara gave a self satisfied sigh
and tossed the jar to one of the Nuru’kh-ai. “Delicious,” she purred, “I see why Y’Roden
treasures you so… or did. Makes me rather curious to experience his wife’s threshold… if he left
you for her… she must be a wondrous creature.” An icy fingertip pressed against the human’s
flesh, sizzling as the wound was cauterized, sealing the Sandwyrm inside. Licking the blood
from the digit Samara leaned in and placed a kiss on Ghet’s mouth, “Thank you, my dear, that
was most enjoyable… and bound to become more entertaining as the days pass.”
***
The werewolves attacked with the ferocity of a ravening horde, launching themselves towards
the elf and the dragon with howls of fury. Their fur-covered bodies were heavy and muscular,
their eyes blazing as they bared ivory fangs and leapt.
Silverthorn spun, her sword whistling from its sheath and punching into the nearest attacker
before she even had time to think. The beast screamed, blood gushing from the wound in thick
scarlet gouts as she dragged the blade free. Pain ignited the rage in the creature's eyes, it's heavy
body crashing into her legs and making her stagger. Inwardly a small voice screamed at her to be
careful, to remember the child she sheltered within her. She knew she could not afford to get
bitten by one of the Pack. It was their saliva that carried the contagion that could turn one of their
victims into another werewolf.
The dark-haired elf's sword spun and thrust, a steel barrier that bit lumps of flesh from the
creature's bodies. Yet steel could only hurt them, it would not kill. Only silver or fire would do
that.
Somewhere above in the canopy Remmy was running and jumping from branch to branch like a
squirrel. Most at home in the trees his kind hunted almost exclusively from them… though the
prey wasn’t normally so… aggressive. Using one hand to balance he swung the crossbow up and
took aim, pulling the trigger and launching an arrow crudely tipped with melted silver.
It struck with a dull thud, hitting a beast between the shoulder blades as it went for Silverthorn.
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“Gre? S'araia? We could use a hand up here!”
Gre settled down in a tree across the clearing, aiming an arrow, the end ignited as it loosed and
hurled towards one of the werewolves. “On it!” he shouted back towards Remmy another
flaming arrow already in flight.
Sahar dropped from her perch in the trees to join the battle on the ground, her black blade
whistling as it spun through the air. The shadow woman took a stance by Silverthorn. The dusky
skinned woman flashed the closest thing to a smile that strangers ever saw and disappeared from
sight to wreak unseen havoc in the werewolf forces.
The tide of snarling fur and fangs swept over the silvery dragon, seemed to carry her body under
in a thrashing of tail and wings...then came the heat. Fire erupted from massive jaws and ignited
first one, then another. Razor sharp talons closed into the back of a large male, the overall effect
being that of an eagle gripping a wriggling fish...then tossing it high into the trees to land with a
sickening crunch, then fall...striking every branch as gravity pulled him down.
Yelps and howls of enraged wrath came from both dragon and wolves as her tail skewered
another wolf that seemed confused if it were human or lupine. Mira's tail thrashed into the
gathering pack and used their kin as a club. Another enRaged scream came from the tarnished,
now bleeding Mira as her jaws snapped yet another up and bit it cleanly in half and then
swallowed.
Now free of the majority of the gnawing beasts, Mira head lifted high then shot down, plucking
various wolves from the pack like some great bird, then snatched one mid-air as it launched itself
at Silverthorn. Dark, thunderous laughter welled up and echoed through the trees, "IS THIS ALL
YOU HAVE! Thoughtless vines and ravenous hounds!" Fire rolled out of her toothy, blood
caked maw.
"I am...very...disappointed...in you..." Mira's Speech was broadcasted openly. Anyone with have
a mind could here her.
Rhan's hand tightened around her dagger. Disappointed? She'd give the bitch disappointed.
"Come with me" she snapped to her companions.
It was time to up the ante.
Silverthorn's heel clipped a fallen branch and she could not prevent herself from falling. Her
hand slammed into the ground, reducing the impact but even with this the elf still gasped slightly
for breath.
A werewolf howled, it's jaws agape as it lunged at her throat. Instinctively she reached for her
sword, but it was gone, lost amongst the bracken. Claws ripped open one arm as she grabbed a
dagger and thrust upwards, the blade embedding itself in the beast's breast. Hot blood gushed
over her and for a second they remained there... frozen.
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Then the creature began to topple on top of her.
“Hey!” Remmy’s yowl of protest followed the unexpected launch of a werewolf past his branch,
“there are people up here you know!” He paused, “THE QUEEN!”
Any further bitching or calls of heads up were cut off by the return of the airborne wolf, which
landed on the S’Hean Elf’s branch and scrabbled towards him. “Crap!” The added weight had
the branch careening wildly and knocked the usually graceful elf onto his behind. An attempt to
skitter back towards the trunk didn’t get him out of range of the snapping jaws in time, but he
managed to cram his boot into it’s gaping maw sideways before the beast could bite down on
something slightly more penetrable. “Have I mentioned I’m a cat person?” he snarled, “I hate
canines.”
Fumbling fingers pulled an arrow free of its quiver, driving the silver coated tip up through the
wolf’s throat. Blood flowed hot and wet down Remmy’s sleeve as the grip on his boot lessened,
the beast hacking and chocking on its own life fluid. Its weight slid to the side, then toppled off
the branch, taking the S’Hean with it.
***
Agaru shifted slightly on the obsidian ledge, the faceted iris of her eyes shifting from the
Nuru’kh-ai below, to the keep itself. Within, An’Thaya was tracking Galain’s movements,
waiting for his cue, which came sooner than expected. Something was wrong… and it had
nothing to do with the boys… She had the feeling that Ghet’s ploy wasn’t going as smoothly as
intended.
The dragon’s wedge shaped head angled so she could see Bran, Callan and Yarwin, who bore the
Elen King on his back. They were to be the rather noisy outer distraction, giving Shadow, Ash
and Galain time to slip out with the children.
It’s time… Agaru sent to her mate, then launched away in a shower of shale before he could
answer. Crimson wings snapped open and there was gurgling intake of breath as she prepared to
flame the beasts below.
Burnished steel scales gleamed in the light of the fires below as several Nuru’kh-ai ignited
beneath the Crimson's wrath. Bran banked, wheeling around to come at the creatures from
another angle. A sickly green smoke puffed from his mouth, drifting down to envelop them in
toxic fumes that caused many to choke and clutch at their throats, white foam pouring from their
lips as they died.
Lapis eyes shifted to Adarin, "Looks like you and me, oh Kingly one...unless you care to catch a
lift on that one..." Yarwin's eyes went to Callan, whose half-Elven form had leapt into the air in
only a few wing beats, then exploded into his natural draconic form... which in the green haze of
Tenobrous, seemed coal black.
"Oh no, I'm fine right here," Adarin answered hastily. While he admired Callan's display of
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power and control, he was unnerved all the same. He found Yarwin to be a pleasant enough
fellow and preferred to stick with him.
Yarwin's own form shifted, though not nearly so dramatically, "Let's have a little fun. You're a
mage... I'm a dragon... sort of. I say we kick their ass."
Adarin decided not to think about the "sort of" bit with Yarwin's next words and just nodded. He
was definitely into kicking ass at least.
The Sha'ay's fully shifted; Silver form extended his foreleg once more to the Elen King. "Just
think," Glowing lapis eyes peered down at the growing numbers of Nuru’kh-ai and other beasts
he had no name for that were joining the fray, "you can unload on them, and they can't touch
you..."
"That's a rather nice thought actually," Adarin answered in a dry tone before they launched into
the air. He wasted no time in unleashing the full force of his own powers. It was rare to allow
himself to use the true potential of his knowledge and abilities and he snatched immense
amounts of energy from the tainted air around him, weaving the energy into lethal fire that
incinerated the roiling masses below them. The Elen King felt a wildness surge through him,
akin to what he felt when he and Tay were together in passion, primal instincts guided his
movements and the power he controlled as he and Yarwin flew overhead.
As for Callan himself, the Black Emperor had lifted his massive frame high above the growing
army, then snapped his wings in to begin a classic draconic attack on ground-based prey. The
howling shriek of wing whipping past scale and claw, spike and jaws was usually enough to
frighten any creature... these however seemed denser than the usual Nuru’kh-ai, and Callan was
betting they'd never seen the likes of his kind. As one phalanx held firm against the diving threat,
Callan's bulk shifted from a headlong, unchecked dive to a position similar to that of a hunting
falcon. Enormous wings snapped out and caught the wind, sending him hurling over the tops of
the Nuru’kh-ai and massive hind talons raked into the forces that stood, bowling some over,
gripping others and crushing them, only toss them aside.
White hot flame danced at his jaws, then exploded into another group, then spread from Uruk to
Uruk like a glittering net that settled over them... then turned them to ash in one awesome
explosion. Gravelly, basso laughter rumbled through the air as still others were snatched up in
mighty black claws and thrown into the walls around Samara's stronghold. The sickly splats and
screaming, dying Nuru and goblin warriors ignited his blood, triggering the BattleRage.
Darkness embraced Callan's soul, and for the first time in many long years, the Dragon Emperor
began killing for the pure joy of dealing death and destruction.
They got as far as the door to the room where the boys were being kept when Galain nearly
doubled over in a pain so intense he would have retched had he anything in his stomach. He’d
been operating on only the rest he’d received after succumbing to Samara’s tortures, gorging
himself on his bonds to Tay and Ghetsuhm as a substitute. He knew Ghetsuhm was up to
something, but had blindly trusted that she’d be fine, no matter what. He’d been busy enough
still trying to chase that elusive something that kept brushing at his mind. Now his being was
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filled with nothing but Ghet’s pain, and it wasn’t the sort either of them would encourage on an
average day.
He’d quite forgotten what an average day was like though… These days seemed to be filled with
running madly through endless corridors, pushing through wraiths and slicing past startled
Nuru’kh-ai and multi-legged horrors that skittered before them at odd moments.
“Go on in, they’re there,” he gasped out to Shadow and Ash, pushing the door open. He waved
weakly at Rhagi before he backed away and straightened. “I’m going after Ghetsuhm,” he rasped
out, staggering blindly down the hallway and latching onto his bond to Ghet, trusting it would
take him directly to her. As he lurched away he communicated swiftly to Tay.
I haven’t been able to find Fechine. Ash and Shadow are rescuing the children as I speak, but
he’s not there.
Rhagi blinked and looked up as the door opened, shaking the other boys out of the near-sleep
they'd all fallen into. That was Shadow. Unless it wasn't... Something was still wrong. He'd
follow anyway: how much worse could things get? "What's wrong with Galain?" he whispered.
"Where's my mummy? He said she was coming."
Morgan and Taylon also peered out of the darkness, Lapis eyes shining like lamps. "Where's
Father? And Mother? Galain said Father would be here," Morgan said softly. "I knew he wasn't
coming," The latter words earned him a punch from Taylon, and the two were glaring at each
other as if there was going to be a scuffle.
Shadow growled out a few choice words, thankfully her native Elven wasn’t that well known,
especially to the boys. “The idiot…” she snorted out, wishing Galain had taken something in the
way of a weapon. The forest elf turned her attention to the boys, slipping into the room to kneel
in front of them, the walls in her mind shifting so that they could easily read her mind to see they
were actually who they said they were.
“Everyone all right? It’ll be okay Rhagi. Your Ammah got a little side tracked along the way,
Galain is all right, and he’s going to go get her. She promised to meet us outside,” the forest elf
paused to snort and eyed the twins. “I imagine your Mother is with Kae and Lhach back on
Ingraleis, and your Father is outside the keep with your Grand-Da and Bran. I promise you’ll all
get home safe, and soon,” the corner of her lips curled up and she raised her hand, “Thief’s
honour.”
Rhagi tilted his head to the side, intrigued by this new insight into Shadow's mind. If there'd been
more time he would have had a hundred questions. He knew she was telling the truth, though,
and his mother was very good at getting sidetracked. He nodded. "Okay. We're alright, aren't
we?"
Morgan and Taylon stopped glaring at each other when they felt Shadow opening up to them.
The pair looked at each other, then Shadow, and said softly, "We're going home?" Morgan had to
snicker then, "Thief's honour?"
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Caolan eyed the forest elf with wide jade eyes, their expression one of painful hope. "We're
really going home?" the raven-haired boy echoed softly. "You promise?" His heart beat a little
faster as he heard that his Ill’harn was outside.
Shadow bit back a chuckle and shot Morgan a look of mock hurt, “Of course thieves have
honour…Okay, so it can be rather warped sometimes, but its still there. I think I need to have a
long talk with your mother.” The forest elf winked before turning her attention to Caolan and
offering him her hand.
“With my life,” she answered him, giving him the same smile she typically reserved for her
children and grandchildren.
“Now, we’ve got to get out of here really quick but not too loud, and we’ve got to stay close
together. Ready?” The forest elf looked over to Ash and nodded for her to take the lead as they
headed out of the room and back in the direction that they had come.
***
When Scathach left her Linnis stormed outside. "Drow, how the hell can I be Drow?" The
brunette was outraged. She was related to one of those things that had... Closing her blue eyes,
Linnis pushed those thoughts away. It had been so long ago, but that day still haunted her. She
could still hear the screams of her mother, and of herself. The screaming that only stopped when
she had finally lost her voice. She would never forget and never forgive.
Slumping down on a fallen stone she put her head in hands. How dare they treat her like this?
She had done everything Nuuruhuine had asked of her, more so. That girl was right though; the
Goddess was talking to them, not her. Have I made a mistake? The thought was now there,
firmly implanted in her head.
"I hardly know my mother at all"
"Perhaps you ought to consider that fact a little more when you attempt to justify your actions
these past few days. Arianne never was one to tolerate betrayal."
Scathach's words came back to her. Betrayal. Yes, that is what she had done to her family. That’s
what they were, whether she liked them or not. What the Raven had said was true and Linnis had
even admitted it, she didn't know her mother. Silverthorn had been a Raven, she had lived here,
had served Nuuruhuine. Linnis' eyes began to grow wider. Why had she never mentioned her?
Why had she left and, so it seemed, turned her back on these people? A terrible feeling of dread
came over the half-elf the question coming back to her...Have I made a mistake?
***
“What do you think is going on out there?” Ki rasped to no one in particular. It had been quiet
for a very long time… but the explosions and noise from the day before had hardly been missed
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by the captives in the dungeon. The stench of the dead Orc was starting to bother him and his
back still throbbed in agony. He had re-pulled something in his attempt to protect Si’Lyen and it
was becoming increasingly difficult to move.
Strands of multi-hued hair hung in the young elf’s face and he lacked the energy to bother
pushing them back. The floor was cold against his back, which was actually a blessing, it
partially numbed the pain.
E’than had slowly began to come around eventually, and had finally dragged himself to his feet.
Stench notwithstanding, the armsmaster pulled himself to his feet, staggered a moment, then
froze.
"Do you feel that?" E’than paused, unsure himself if he felt it or not, then again, something
seemed to vibrate beneath his foot. "There it is again..." Dark eyes went to Jase, "It feels
like...someone digging...scraping?"
Scrambling and not waiting for an answer, E'Than rolled the dead Nuru over and began digging
through his pockets. One machete like blade, two small axe like weapons and several
daggers...no doubt lifted from dead Corin soldiers...later, E'Than tossed one blade to Jase, then
the now soprano Jacen..."Don't tell me you can't fight without your...bits? Is that what you called
them? I know better...look at the guys that defend harems..."
Jacen caught the blade and gave E'Than a hard stare. "I can still fight," came his high-pitched
voice his eyes narrowing slightly, lips pursing together. He hated sounding like a choirboy. He
could still feel the stirring in the back of his mind, the Armour wanted out, but now was not the
right time.
Whoever was coming through the floor would have a nasty surprise...armed and desperate
prisoners and one rotting Nuru’kh-ai.
A wavering of shadow in one corner went unnoticed...then a figure dressed in black and white
checks seemed to pull himself through the stone walls with a loud POP. In his hand was one
jar...filled with missing anatomy.
"See, I just never understood WHY the gods that created Man were so stingy." Xraden grinned at
Jacen and tossed the jar up in the air, caught it and repeated the motion. The liquid inside sloshed
about as he did so, "I mean, you really, really should need a bigger jar for these. But then, you
DO call them bits."
"I'd ask you how it’s hanging, but I think I already know..." The god of Chaos eyed the Knight.
"I thought you might want these back...and if you're nice, I'll even make sure they get reattached
in the right place...though...knowing me, they'd wind up on your forehead..."
Jacen's eyes widened as he watch the jar go up and down. They certainly looked like his. He
really wished they weren't on display like that though.
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"So...what's the plan? Y'all just going to sit here all day?"
Jase watched the God of Chaos tossing the jar, half amused, half furious. "No." He said coldly,
finishing telekinetically picking the lock on his wrist restraints and picking up the knife he had
been tossed, "We are, however, stuck, and about to be invaded. And please, stick them wherever,
just stop tossing them."
"Oookay...you said it boss..." Xraden grinned madly and suddenly; the 'bits' were gone. Nothing
remained in the jar but the liquid they'd been pickled in.
"Now, I'm not exactly SURE where they went...so, you boys might want to check for a spare
pair..." Xraden eyed Jase's forehead, "Iiinnnnn an odd place...yeah."
Groping himself the Knight breathed as sigh of relief, as his trousers now appeared to be full.
"Thanks," came his reply in a somewhat deeper voice than he'd been using. They appeared to be
in the right place but he'd have a good look later, just to be sure.
“Oh my gods… are you guys ok?” The voice came from just beyond the bars as Reece Nightfall
emerged from the floor, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dim light of the dungeon. He shot
Xraden a startled look for a moment, then took note of the prisoners condition. “Y’Roden sent
me… we are coming through tomorrow morning. I can’t take you with me yet; we can’t afford to
tip Tallin off. His prisoners go missing and he’ll know something is up.”
"My gods? Hey! That's me!" Xraden beamed at Reece on the outer side of the cell, "Though,
granted, not YOUR god, but I'm filling in for the moment." Suddenly serious, Xraden adjusted
his Oakleys and flicked a bit of grime off his zoot suit, "So, they have to wait out one more
night? Dawn then...I'll wait with them."
Stepping through the bars like they didn’t exist the SandShadow Un-shouldered his pack he
tossed a water skin to Ethan and passed out some rations, “just be ready… I see you’ve managed
some weapons at least.”
A flood of relief filled Roc in just knowing they'd been found and not given up for lost or dead.
All this time he'd been staying close to his brother doing what he could to ease the torturous pain
he was in. He knew it wasn't much albeit through their link in the web but Roc wanted to take as
much of Ki's pain and suffering away as he could. He fully intended to log each and every wince
of pain from Ki and multiply it upon Tallin himself if ever given the chance. Even so his own
wrists were bloodied and raw from the elements in his own restraints, which Roc chose to just
add to the list of horrors he would heap upon Tallin later.
"Could someone toss me one of those water skins Ki really needs some water."
Dark eyes went from the SandShadow to Roc, "Aye...catch." A sloshing toss of a water skin
later, the armsmaster straightened and watched Reece warily. "You can walk the OtherWorld?
Most useful..." E'Than's dark eyes flicked upward, "Now...what are the odds our most gracious
host hasn't figured out we're useless and orders our heads cut off and our entrails strewn across
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the outer walls before then?"
"Because I'm guessing we're not?" Jase said darkly. "Tallin is under attack and he may need us as
bargaining tools, whether he truly knows who we are or not." The Princes' eyes flicked across the
room, "After all, who'd pay for a dead body?"
“That is exactly what Y’Roden is counting on,” Reece muttered, “Tallin is distracted. By his new
wife as well as what is going on around the Castle, he knows you are all tied into the D’Riel
family somehow which is why you are all sharing this cell together. Anyone non useful, he has
doubtless already killed.”
He eyed the others from where he had crouched near Ki. “That man ruled Corin for eight
hundred years, I know his ways well. Trust me…you’ll live long enough to see the battle. This is
Ki, right? What the hell happened to him? Eh, never mind, he needs medical attention and Ro
would never forgive me if I left him here like this. I’m taking him with me. The rest of you…
just hold out one more night.”
“I can’t leave,” Ki managed, “it will put them in danger.”
“Ki… if I leave you here you could die, if not during the night, then during the battle tomorrow
morning. You can’t fight, not in your condition.” The SandShadow brooked no argument and
lifted the elf as gently as he could, though the young D’Riel hissed and nearly screamed in pain.
Reece nodded to E’than and smiled reassuringly at Roc, then simply slipped through the stone
beneath his feet and was gone.
***
A bath and some sleep had done little to improve Y’Roden’s mood. The solid wall of rock in the
tunnel made things infinitely more complicated, their numbers for an infiltration team that much
smaller. Four? What were they going to manage with four? The whiskey was helping,
marginally… and the rescue of Imoreki… another of his children had been returned to safety,
sent home to S’Hea. It had ripped at Ro’s soul to see his boy in the condition Reece had brought
him through the rock in. Tallin… was going to die a hideously painful death for what he had
done to him, and the psychological damage done to Si’Lyen.
It was going to be a long night… but before he could return to his lonely bed, plans had to be
made for the morning. He had sent for Fadil, Reece, Malik, Valin, Melaina, Culaelin, Gloraelin,
and Makilnar. They all had their parts to play in the upcoming battle to win back the seat of
Corin’s power. Reece and Malik were already there, quietly watching the King of S’Hea as they
nursed their own whiskey and waited on the others.
It didn't take Mel long to arrive. Her frustration was showing, her walk was like that of a caged
tiger. One hand idly fingered the bracelet picked up so long ago and so rarely noticed, the metal
almost blending into her skin as the bracelet's power had long ago blended into her abilities. She
was sober; having slept off most of the bottle she'd drunk while they worked in the tunnels, but
her feeling of helplessness had not faded. She was quiet as she took a seat beside Ro, watching as
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they waited for the others...
Glory had snatched some sleep, severely missing his son. But the circumstances of the moment
didn't allow for much and so the elf satisfied his longings with brief snatches of interrupted sleep.
When he was summoned he simply tossed the covers away and dressed swiftly.
As for Mak, he was sound asleep as well, having barely bathed without drowning himself. He
was just ahead of Glory, his still-wet hair tousled in a wild imitation of concertina wire. Both
brothers found the others simultaneously.
Y’Roden finally put his glass down and turned to look at Glory and Mak as they entered the
room, closely followed by Cully and Valin. “Evening,” he murmured, his gaze falling on Mel
and the bracelet she was fiddling with. He had forgotten about that… “Six…” he aloud, “Six
people.”
“Pardon?” Valin asked as he joined them, gesturing to Darec for an ale.
“Wee problem,” Ro sighed, “There is a good fifteen feet of solid rock between us and the Castle.
We can still go through, but it will be a small group. Reece and Malik can each take one person
through, and Mel here has her bracelet, I’m assuming she can probably get someone else through
as well. That’ll be me… just in case.”
“I’m coming right,” his eldest son said, “If I am going to be King, it's only fair that I fight for my
people.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Ro chuckled, “Fadil will be coming as well. That is our six.
Now. Glory, Cully and Mak… you three will lead the troops up the gates before dawn and wait
until we open them from within. Tomorrow… we take back Castle Corin.”
Fadil had slipped in silently, and simply watched from a dark corner. He already knew what he
had to do, though perhaps the prospect of passing through that rock was weighing on his mind a
little. He was increasingly impressed with Valin. His father's son, obviously.
Glory was silent, merely nodding at his uncle's choice. He shot a quick look at Mak who was
sitting bolt upright in his chair, a gleam in his eyes. Glory couldn't help himself and ruffled his
younger brother's hair, making it an even bigger mess before he returned his attention to
Y'Roden.
"We'll be ready," he said.
“Good,” Ro smiled at his nephews, then rubbed at his eyebrows with thumb and forefingers. “Go
get some rest, we are all going to need it… tomorrow is going to be a long day. Even for one on
Whispin.”
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Chapter 10
An explosion rocked the Keep, setting Samara off balance and sending several implements
crashing to the floor. Blood red eyes flashed with rage and the Demoness hissed as she gripped
the edge of a table for balance. “What the HELLS is going on out there?” she snapped at a guard
that appeared in the doorway.
“Oi’m not sure Mistress, great… scaly winged beasties are attacking the troupes. Oi’ve never
seen anything like’m.”
“Dragons,” Samara spat out, “They’ve shifted to Dragons. Watch her,” she gestured at Ghet,
“some bleeding heart is bound to come for her. Go check on the Elen Prince,” she ordered the
Guard at the door, “Send someone to check on the young boys… I’ll see to Fechine myself.” She
cast one last, lingering look upon the tortured redhead, and then disappeared.
The two remaining Nuru’kh-ai exchanged a look, then took up positions on either side of the
rack, relaxing as the rattle of armour announced the placement of reinforcements in the hall.
Ghet let go a little, sagging. There was sweat running into her eyes and it stung, but she couldn’t
get her head across to her arm. Unconsciousness was pulling at her, but she had to stay awake.
She had to stay awake, because… Galain. Love? She’s gone. Are the boys safe? Tell me the boys
are safe. She couldn’t cope if all this had been for nothing.
She should keep the pain away from him, but she couldn’t do it, she wasn’t strong enough. She
needed him.
The boys are safe. Ash and Shadow have them. Can’t find Fechine though. Tay’s going to take
care of that. I’m coming for you, was Galain’s terse reply back. He’d felt things shift subtly
within him as Samara’s control slipped. She had too many irons in the fire and the Elen’s
abilities were no longer dampened.
And he was feeding on his wife’s pain, using it to fuel his anger and push past whatever
obstacles that presented themselves. It was dangerous what he was doing… ’Lain shifted
uncomfortably within him as another more deeply-buried conscience stirred, sucking up the
darkness that was funnelling through Galain’s soul at the moment.
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he muttered to his dragon self. He was getting closer to the
dungeon and to Ghetsuhm, the pain seeming to intensify as the distance lessened. He careened
around a corner in time to crash into the Nuru’kh-ai Samara had dispatched to check on the elf.
The creature bellowed and Galain shouted an oath in Elvish before he pushed away and splayed
his fingers, balefire arcing wickedly between each digit. Gods it would be nice if he could find
the two particular minions who’d tortured him down here.
“Come closer you stupid, pathetic animal,” he told the guard. He was rewarded with a fearsome
roar from the Orc just before it charged. Lethal fire leaped from the elf’s fingers, wrapping
tongues of flickering death around the Nuru’Kh-ai’s body. And then it was gone, incinerated into
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nothingness.
Galain’s head rang with pain and a wild berserker’s joy as he charged forward and promptly
collided with the recently placed reinforcements. Galain’s eyes lit up as he realized he faced
some pretty terrible odds. This was going to be such major payback though, he thought as he let
them converge upon him.
No worries, love. I’m a little delayed, but should be with you shortly, he sent, exchanging the
pain he took from her with a heady stream of strength from him.
Ghet nearly laughed, but then the Wyrm inside her moved, carving out a larger space for itself,
and she screamed, the sound drowning out any noise that might have reached her guards through
the door. Still, she could feel Galain's fierce destructive pleasure, and that side of her flared,
feeding on the strength her husband gave her, insulating her from the pain. Sometimes letting go
and feeling really furious just felt so good.
There are two more in here, she told Galain. Save some for them. She fought her restraints in
earnest, growling in frustration at her helplessness. The display of pain and fear and anger was
keeping her guards' attention on her, and that was the most she could do. She'd been such an
idiot, and she would never forgive herself for this.
Humour helped to defray a lot and Galain kept moving.
Oh don’t worry. A zap here, a zap there… we’ll be good to go. But he was holding back, feeling
the sickening sensation inside Ghetsuhm, well aware that Tay had slammed her end of their bond
shut and he… well… Galain was staggering a bit. He could only guess at what Adarin was
sensing, but Galain kept his mind on Ghet.
Coming! he nearly shouted as he fell into the dungeon room where his wife was being kept. Two
were there and he just gave them a bloody grin.
The sight of Galain was a hell of a relief, but she'd never been so frustrated in her life. Well,
hardly ever. She was going to have to hang here helplessly, and if her husband got spitted in
front of her... well, it wouldn't happen. Oh, no hurry, she told him, grinning madly, I'm not going
anywhere. It was the only way she could keep from going insane. Fear was curled up in a big
ball in her gut. And it wasn't alone.
Galain did regret that he was unarmed in the conventional sense. He was growing physically
tired, the adrenalin and pain he was feeding upon almost overloading his senses by this point.
But the moment he saw Ghetsuhm, caught the sharp scent of her blood, he was lunging hard
against the Nuru guards, using their bulk against them, snaking around their bodies and
confounding them before he grabbed their heads and clocked them together. He wasn't into
showmanship at this point and drew one guard's sword and quickly dispatched one before he was
toppled by the other which apparently hadn't gone as unconscious as Galain had hoped.
The next few minutes were ugly, brutal and devoid of conversation as both Nuru and elf
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grappled with each other, slamming hard up against the bottom of the rack. Galain felt a rising
panic as he was certain more would be coming in the few minutes he had to kill this one and free
Ghetsuhm.
"Gods! Die already!" he hissed with frustration, grunting when his head was slammed against the
floor. He punched back and sliced blindly with the heavy, unfamiliar sword and connected with
flesh. His opponent screamed and went silent. The Elen sat up slowly, panting for breath. He was
a bloodied mess, no worse than he'd looked after his night of "fun" in this very dungeon.
"Hey love," he said, grinning brightly at Ghetsuhm before he lurched to his feet and sliced
through her bonds, his arms reverberating from the force. He could feel her continued pain and
he felt nausea borne by worry rise in his gut as he hefted her easily into his arms and headed for
the exit. He had no idea which way to go, couldn't reach Tay, and then he thought... if he
followed the warmth of the necklace he wore he might at least find Shadow and Ash and...
He started running.
Ghet slid into his arms, limp now, only realising how weak she was when she was faced with
holding herself up. She wanted to tell him she could walk, but she couldn't, and she was slowing
him down. The most she could manage was to not scream as the Wyrm reacted to her movement.
She had to keep quiet so the Orcs didn't find them. She had to not pass out so she wasn't a dead
weight for Galain. Yeah, that was enough to keep her busy for a while. Oh, and stopping them
from going mad... You look amazing. If I wasn't quite so buggered I'd jump you.
Agaru banked and angled towards the keep, responding to An'Thaya's urgent demand to land.
The boys were accounted for, Galain was taking care of Ghet, but Fechine was still missing.
The massive Crimson landed heavily on a balcony, the stone creaking beneath her weight as she
shifted, seeming to fall in on herself, a glittering flash of crimson scales that left the Amazon
standing in her place, illuminated by a guttering torch just within the doorway. Lithe fingers
wrapped around the golden hilts of two daggers and tossed them upwards, catching and twirling
them neatly on their way down. The emerald irises of her eyes all but disappeared as dark pupils
expanded, giving her an almost owlish look as they drank in what little light the room provided.
"Bloody hell I hate this place," she hissed, slamming down on her bond to Galain. His pain Tay
could handle, Ghet's she could not. It was like cutting off a limb, leaving her stumbling for a
moment to get her bearings and clinging briefly to Adarin. Five seconds... ten... she was wasting
time. Drawing a steadying breath she opened her awareness to the Web, searching out the
emerald tendril that would lead to her nephew.
The Steel landed neatly beside her, deceptively delicate despite his size. Burnished scales rippled
for a second, blonde hair flowing as Bran's Elven form replaced his draconic. "What is it?" he
asked softly, knowing something had to be wrong. The dragons had been intended to be the
distraction only. That the Amazon was obviously planning to enter the Keep suggested
something was amiss.
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“Galain said Fechine was not with the other boys,” the redhead responded in a hushed tone, her
eyelashes fluttering back up as the Web locked onto the young D’Riel Prince. “He is fairly deep
within the keep…” she cast a look over her shoulder at the two remaining dragons and Adarin.
“They seem to have things well in hand out there, come with me, we’ll find him ourselves.” Tay
was already moving towards the door and gently lifting the latch, peeking out into the torch lit
hall. She held up a hand to Bran, indicating the presence of four Nuru’kh-ai in the corridor.
Exchanging a look with the platinum haired elf she nodded, then tossed open the door.
The first beast died without so much of a cry, the Amazon’s dagger buried diagonally through
his ribs to pierce his heart.
Further into the Keep, Samara reappeared in the chambers Fechine was sleeping in. She stood
frozen for a moment, nearly floored by the nostalgic wave of emotion that struck her. These
rooms had belonged to Y’Roden… many hours of agonized pleasure had been spent here, when
they were not entertaining themselves in the chamber Ghetsuhm presently occupied.
Ice-cold fingertips caressed the young boy’s cheek, stirring him from a heavy sleep where he lay
sprawled on what had once been his Father’s bed. Dark lashes lifted slowly, an almost dazed
expression in the emerald eyes they revealed. Then the full horror of his captivity came crashing
back into the chestnut-haired youth's consciousness. He flinched back, eyeing the Demoness as if
she was a poisonous snake.
“Get your hands off my nephew.” An’Thaya’s voice rang cold in the chambers as she pushed
open the door, eyes dark and flashing with anger. “Fechine… come to me.” Gold hilted daggers
spun through the Amazon’s fingers in a graceful, though agitated motion. “Stop picking on
children and come play with someone your own size Sammy. You want your revenge… come
get it.”
Samara hissed and stepped back from the bed, her features warping with utter hatred as she came
face to face with An’Thaya for the first time in centuries. Here was the woman that had taken
what was most precious to her, and everything that went with him. “He isn’t going anywhere,”
the Demoness purred, “but you… I’ve been waiting forever to feel the heat of your blood on my
hands.”
"Dera Thaya?" Fechine's voice was hoarse. The boy could hardly believe his eyes. Someone had
finally come for him! His heart beat faster in his chest as painful hope stole his breath. Then
realisation of what he must look like swept over him and shame brought a crimson blush to his
skin, his gaze dropping away. Shaking hands clutched sheets to his naked form, cuts and bruises
painting dark stains over his tanned flesh.
Tay’s gaze flickered sideways slightly, her body stiffening with rage when she witnessed the
damage done to her brother’s son. “Yes, it’s me sweetie… go on out in the hall ok? Doro Bran is
waiting for you.” Her attention on Samara, the Amazon was tracking sideways, leading her way
from the boy, and the Demoness… in her bloodlust, was following.
Go? He could go? Too confused to argue, the chestnut-haired youth wrapped the sheet around
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himself tightly and began to edge towards the door. Halfway there he froze, caught between two
competing instincts. The urge to flee, to escape, was strong, but how could he leave his aunt with
that... creature?
Bran's axe bit deep into the flank of a Nuru’kh-ai, the fair-haired elf guarding the door and
preventing reinforcements from reaching their mistress. Where the hell were they both? Surely
An'Thaya must have reached Fechine by now? "Dammit! Come on. Get out of there!" He
muttered under his breath, swearing as he ducked a blow to the head before driving his own
blade deep into his attacker's belly.
“Fechine GO,” An’Thaya ordered, turning her head just for a split second to look at him, leaving
herself open to attack. Her back hit the wall with a crack, the palm of her hand coming up by
reflex and catching Sam in the jawbone. The Demoness’ head snapped back and Tay struck with
her free hand, drawing blood along the other woman’s ribs. “GO!”
"But..."
A hand grabbed the protesting boy and yanked him out into the corridor. His exclamation died
on his lips as he saw his uncle. "We need to get out of here" Bran bit out, propelling Fechine out
into the corridor with one hand. "Thaya..." He stopped and then shook his head. "Just make it
quick," was all the fair-haired elf said in the end, following his nephew.
“Right…” Tay muttered beneath her breath, pushing Sam back and wrapping her fingers tight
around the hilt of her dagger. With a grunt she slugged the snarling Demoness square in the face,
ignoring the spark of dark pleasure in the woman’s eyes that sang to the music of breaking bone.
The Amazon was in over her head, and she knew it.
A solid blow from Samara caught Tay across the cheekbone, the force bouncing the small
woman off the wall. The world spun sickeningly as she hit her knees, seeing double for a
moment.
“You… little… bitch,” Sam hissed, “well… at least you understand how I feel now. How it hurts
to have your mate taken away… to be able to feel him, to hear him, but not truly touch him.
Husband in name… but he loves her more, doesn’t he.”
“SHUT UP!” Scrabbling, Tay used the wall, leaning heavily against the cold stone as she
struggled back up to her feet.
“The truth is painful… what if I told you… he never cried out for you once while I tortured
him… but he did cry out for her.”
“I said… shut up,” Tay snarled, lunging blindly at the Demoness as something other than
physical pain twisted and gnawed at her. Emerald eyes blazed with hurt and rage that had
nothing to do with Samara and a howl of frustration had her slugging the Demon Bitch
repeatedly, the harder the strike, the more pronounced Sam’s laughter became, a taunting
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hysterical sound that only roused An’Thaya’s anger further and left her screaming in pure,
unadulterated rage.
An’Thaya’s striking wrist was crushed in the Demoness’ icy fingers, the arm fairly yanked out of
the socket as it was pulled down then back and Samara’s other hand fisted into flaming red locks,
doubling the redhead forward as she wrested the dagger out of the Amazon’s grip, then snapped
her back up by the hair. Cold steel sliced through Tay’s flesh, plunging deep, piercing her solar
plexus and driving up beneath the rib cage.
“No one… takes what is mine… and gets away with it,” Samara hissing, watching in sadistic
satisfaction as Thaya’s eyes dimmed, her chest heaving with a cough, a gout of blood spurting
from ruby lips. “Now… if you will just die quietly… I’m going to retrieve Fechine… and wipe
out the rest of the pests that have invaded my keep.”
For a fleeting moment, caught between reality and the veil, An’Thaya was certain she caught
sight of Chezlar. A rustle of dark feathered wings, a glint of softly glowing gold eyes. He had
been there every time… had he not?
Every time?
The rage had cooled with reality of pain… with the reality of dying. “Well then,” Tay wheezed, a
sharp cry escaping as Samara dragged the dagger back out of her flesh, “Why don’t … you give
us a … kiss… goodbye? Wouldn’t… want to deny you the … pain.” It was a lot to bargain one’s
life on… she was counting on Samara’s ego… on her obsession…
Yet, death would be so easy… so peaceful… beyond the pain…
Samara’s laugh was hard on the ears, the look in her eyes enough to make Tay want to retch.
“Not so different from your brother… are you,” she breathed, “far be it for me to deny you a
dying wish.” The Demoness leaned in, licking at the other woman’s bloodstained lips.
It isn’t your choice… there are too many lives hinging on your own…
The Amazon closed her eyes, hiding the revulsion in their depths as Samara’s hot breath
feathered across her face… Time was the enemy; Tay could feel her life starting to slip away, the
delicate tendrils of her bonds starting to unravel… ever so slowly. She had blocked out Galain
before coming here… then Adarin upon the realization that Samara was in the room. This had
been the only way to save Fechine, and even so… with her death, she was damning them all to
this hell.
Agony laced through her lungs as they expanded with oxygen, pain that she shared with her
killer as soft feminine lips pressed against her own. Samara’s moan of pleasure was a victory
bell, Tay’s hands reached up, latching hard into Samara’s hair and holding her head tight to her
own. If she lost her grip… she was already dead. A small intake of breath, and the deafening roar
of the conduit, the magic was sealed before the Demoness realized her mistake.
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Life flowed between their locked mouths, surging into An’Thaya’s veins. Dark and twisted
perhaps, but life none the less… and Samara had more than enough to spare, eternity a spark on
her horizon. The Demoness could not be slain, but she could be hurt, slowed down… and she
knew it. Struggling hard she managed to tear her mouth from An’Thaya’s, glowing ropes of
Aethyr visible in the air between their parted mouths, ripped mercilessly from the dark haired
woman’s core and funnelled into the abyss of the Amazon’s soul.
Tay’s eyes snapped back open, their hue darkened with agony, and resolute determination. Both
women toppled to the floor, Samara twisting and screaming with the effort to break the deadly
link. Her rage only served to feed Tay’s strength, the life force of the Demoness increasing with
the level of negative emotion in the room. The wound she had dealt An’Thaya faded from the
Amazon’s flesh, re-knitting slowly, and reappearing on the Demoness. It wasn’t the first time
Tay had done this, but it was the first time she had acted on it voluntarily. Her magic had killed
an innocent human once… had nearly slain an insane Elyen Ilander, the conduit over riding her
will and placing her life before others.
Sweat glistened on Tay’s skin from the effort, both physical and spiritual, of keeping Sam pinned
beneath her will. Time slowed, creating its own forever until the Amazon felt the Demoness
growing weak and she started to relax… doing exactly what the other woman had expected. With
a surge of strength Sam pushed an immense wave of her own living energy through the conduit,
catching Tay off guard and overflowing the channels carved by the Aethyr.
Too much life force could be as deadly as none.
An’Thaya’s world exploded in sheer anguish, the conduit virtually imploding in on itself, then
expanding impossibly large. Green lightning crackled across her flesh, enveloping Samara as
well and sending them both into screaming hell.
***
They raced down the corridors, dodging Nuru’kh-ai that poured into the halls, some on a mission
for their mistress, others looking for a way to get out. The forest elf slowed, the hairs on the back
of her neck rising as she spun around to come face to face with one of the smelly beasts. The two
stared at each other, a strange stillness in the middle of a turmoil that would soon spread down
the hallway that Ash had led the children down.
Suddenly the beast turned, a shout going up of intruders; cursing she raced after, drawing her
weapons. The chase led away from the sea of defenders. Snarling, Shadow followed as the
Nuru’kh-ai threw open a door, the wood splintering when it struck stone. Natural instincts took
over as she launched towards her opponent, shifting as she went to seep into its being and rip it
apart from the inside, stepping away as it crumbled forward.
Shadow slouched for a moment, her eyes drifting close as she tried to pick up on where the
children and Ash were. Nodding she straightened and turned slightly to step into one of the many
shadows only to pause when her eyes landed on the slender blade of a dagger, the likes of which
she had never seen before. Curiosity and her usual love of the blades tugged at her as her hand
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closed around the hilt. A voice rang in her head to put it back, it would bring no good, but for
once she ignored the voice, slipping the blade into her vest with the intent of adding it to her
collection, perhaps even asking Y’Roden it’s origins.
With a sparkle in her eye over her new treasure, she disappeared from the room, reappearing in
the hallway behind the escaping group.
"We can't leave her there! Doro Bran!" Fechine whispered hoarsely. His emerald eyes pleaded
with his uncle.
"We have no choice" the fair-haired elf retorted, although inwardly he could not help agreeing
with his nephew. The Amazon was a friend, someone whose ability he respected... someone he
didn't want to lose. "Dammit!" he swore softly. Getting the boys out had to take priority, he knew
that. He just didn't have to like that.
The sight of a large troop of Nuru’kh-ai brought him to an abrupt halt. They blocked the
corridor, leering unpleasantly. "Hell. Why are things never easy?" he muttered. "Callan. Yarwin.
Get your butts in here. We have problems."
In the skies over Samara's keep, dragon fire and white-hot power surged from two dragons, the
Silver one only marginally smaller than his Black sire. Adarin's magefire incinerated and burned,
stones melted and fused and Nuru bloodstained the ground an oily green colour.
"Trouble, Badb Catha? What...sort...of trouble?" Callan rumbled and began a fast spiral
downwards, followed closely by his son with Adarin on his back.
It was then the Black felt a sharp sting of rage that belonged to the Crimson he shared his soul
with. The aftershocks of her anger rolling out in distorted, broken waves the Emperor did not
understand, but knew well enough to add up what sort of trouble Bran meant.
A roar of barely controlled Rage shook the stones of the Demoness' citadel as his black wings
swept wide, the sound of the wind thunder of his and Yarwin's wings as they halted just beyond
the ledge, the ground based army abruptly forgotten.
Callan's massive wedge-shaped head swivelled to Yarwin. "You and Adarin...stay here...help
them fight clear..." Already the ledge was choked with taunting, yowling Nuru, goblins and
beasts known only to Tenobrous.
"Always have to be the hero, don't you..." Yarwin growled and started a shift in mid-air. Callan's
tail cracked him squarely between the eyes as the shifting Emperor dropped past him into the
midst of the black swarm on the ledge, "No... I just have far less to lose if I don't come out...and
if I don't... the Keep belongs to you and Mira... and take care of Adarin... the Amazon will need
him..."
As Callan's heavily booted feet hit the stone, the claymore was lifted free of its harness. A wide
arc cut a path through the crowd just before a cloud of warrior creatures covered him and seemed
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to drag him under. Cursing as Callan vanished beneath the filthy tide, Yarwin sent jolts of
electricity into the crowded tunnel and across the ledge, burning those who sought to join the
dog-pile and also illuminating the dark corridor. An explosion of orange dragon fire laced with
white, roaring flame seared the eyes of those watching, turned the Nuru and goblin kind to ash as
Callan unleashed the gift granted him by Brighid. In her name, the Black dragon began burning
his way into the stronghold. Fire danced from one hand while the claymore cut like a scythe
through those who had avoided cremation.
"Where are you Badb Catha? Where are the boys...Shadow and Ash?" Callan muttered, half to
himself, half to Bran. Behind him, Yarwin sent explosions of blue and silver light into the
forever midnight gloom, temporarily illuminating his sire in the flash before he disappeared into
the ebony darkness where even the light of the Storm could not penetrate.
Bran shoved Fechine behind him, his axe glinting in the dim light. For a second elf and Nuru’khai had a standoff, each waiting for the other to move. Then the beasts charged...
"Fechine and I are in the corridor near his cell" he sent to Callan, "Ash and Shadow have the
younger boys. I've no idea where Ghet and Galain are. For gods sake, hurry!" His blade bit into
the abdomen of one of his assailants, a grunt of pain escaping him as long nails clawed at his
shoulder. A hint of breathlessness crept into his words as the fair-haired man added, "An'Thaya is
still with Samara. She was trying to hold her off."
"Oh, that's real helpful Badb Catha. Care to elaborate?" Callan muttered and swung his
claymore, carving a swath through the gathering Nuru. As the corridors began to narrow, Callan
was forced to shift his grip and handle the blade with both hands. With one hand around the
leather wrapped blade, the other still on the hilt, he used the blade as a scythe as he fought
through the packs of howling, slashing Nuru’kh-ai.
"Second corridor on the right" the fair-haired elf snapped back, "can't you track Agaru, for Gods
sake? She's still in there." Frustration and anger added an edge to Bran's words. Dammit! They
were so close...
Galain couldn't feel what Tay was going through and at the moment he couldn't stop to wonder
though he kept poking at the deadened bond. As it was he had Ghetsuhm and they were dashing
madly along through the keep. He could feel his wife's pain and he kept bumping against his
Amazon wife's connection before he settled into his and Ghet's bond.
I'm sorry. What... there's something in you? He didn't ask more.
He wouldn't have minded being jumped by her about now. He just didn't want Ghet so... well she
was definitely buggered. He slipped around another corner, smacked into a horde of frightened
Nuru’kh-ai and let 'Lain's wings fly loose. That seemed to unnerve them enough and the Elen
plunged forward, folding his wings in as he ran.
Ghet clung hard, concentrating the last of her strength into her arms around Galain's neck. We'll
deal with it later, she said weakly, her face white with strain. When they got out of here, this
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thing was coming out, no matter what. She couldn't take much more and stay sane.
The hands that had so desperately held Samara to her, were now trying to push the Demoness
away. Tay’s body was rigid with the power that hummed over her flesh, eyes on fire with
emerald Aethyr energy as it exploded from the conduit. The room shook violently, stone walls
cracking, bits of the ceiling crashing down, nearly crushing the entangled women several times.
Gasping for air that would not come, the Amazon twisted round, digging her fingers into a crack
on the floor, crimson waves of hair billowing out around her head like living fire as she
attempted to literally drag herself away. Her own conduit was going to kill her… the irony was
rich.
Samara dug sharp claws into the Amazon’s flesh, hanging on despite, or perhaps because of the
agony it caused. Revenge always had a price, and she could taste An’Thaya’s death on the
horizon… just a few moments more… The Keep could be rebuilt; a chance like this might never
come again.
“Amonta de Toya!” The oath escaped Shadow as stones from the walls and ceiling began falling
around their ears. “Grab hands, now!” she shouted, dragging an image into her mind of where
they were going, along with any information needed so the boys could prepare themselves for the
jolt of passing into the shadow world.
The forest elf looked over towards Ash, offering an almost impish grin as they neared the wall
they had come in through, which had also been the most reasonable, let alone safest, exit as well.
A final thought shot out of her mind and towards her companions before they disappeared into
the wall. We’re out.
Galain was cursing a blue streak as he tried to find the way out of this place. After all, he'd been
portalled here and had only been seeking the boys, not an escape.
"Where are we supposed to go? Where are we meeting up?" he asked, ducking down a long and
narrow corridor devoid of light. A rush of cold, fetid air passed over their faces and the elf
stopped cursing.
"I think I found an exit."
Ghet was starting to realise the shaking wasn't all her. The whole place is becoming an exit, I
think. She didn't want to contemplate what might be causing that. She just wanted out, her and
Galain safe.
Adarin had felt like he'd been kicked in the gut when his bond to An'Thaya was so abruptly
closed. The Elen king knew this meant trouble and his mind was a roil of worry, anger and
frustration. Despite the magefire he was unleashing upon the Nuru’kh-ai, he felt oddly impotent,
anxious to be wherever Tay was and not here.
They were safe, for now, keeping them all cloaked within the shadow realm, dodging the dangers
that it also held. But then they weren’t as dangerous as they usually were. Shadow paused briefly
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to look back at the shadowy mass that the Keep had become; the twisted creatures that called this
part of the world home were flocking to it like buzzards to carrion. A shiver passed through her
and she shoved the thought aside, her mind was still open to the boys, and they didn’t need such
thoughts.
The cliffs were becoming clearer, and she eased them out into the ‘real world’. Taking a deep
breath, she spun around once again, her arms instinctively crossing over her stomach as she
watched the Keep for any sight of her companions.
Rhagi teetered for a moment, holding on to Caolan's hand grimly. That feeling of realness, of
having something solid to cling to, had been all that had kept him from running away. Well, that
and the distraction of Shadow's mind, so different from any he had touched before. But now they
were out, and he was desperate to see his mother. Or his aunt, really, or... just a familiar face.
Morgan and Taylon stood, huddled close to Ash, their lapis eyes turned to the streaks of magefire
and bolts of white lightning raining through the green fog down on the stinking creatures that had
tried to swarm out of the stronghold.
"SEE! I told you Father would come!" Morgan let out a whooping, "That's gotta be him! GO
DAD!" and promptly jabbed his brother in the ribs and shot him an "I told you so" look.
Bi-colored eyes shifted to Morgan, "Hush...we don't need an advertisement... they're searching
for us now as it is..."
Ash hissed quietly at the boys, "See...there...." the S'Hean lowered to a crouch and motioned at
Shadow to do the same as a small group of goblins and Nuru, accompanied by some huge,
twisted cross between a lizard and some sort of dog on a chain came into sight, sniffing, lunging
and howling their way through the murk.
Morgan's eyes went wide and the Shai'ay boy moved closer to the Ranger, "But where's Gran
Ill’harn, Ash?"
To which Ash clapped one hand over the boy's mouth and shook her head...they'd been
spotted...or at least sniffed out and the dog-masters were pointing and shouting in their direction.
The next sound the Ranger heard was quiet metallic snick of a chain being removed from the
heavy iron collars the hellhounds wore.
The dogs had been released.
Caolan's hand tightened around Rhagi's, his jade eyes widening in panic. They'd seen them, he
knew it. Frightened, the raven-haired boy glanced from one adult to the other, silently pleading
with them to do something.
Deep in the bowels of the citadel, Callan snarled at his son-in-law, "Well, I should be able to,
yes... but that gods damned Amazon skinwalker has her buried... I can't feel her like I should..."
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Around him, the walls shook, the ceilings began to crack with sharp pops and snaps, "Oh,
lovely...not only is the place one huge block of Swiss cheese, its coming apart." Callan hissed as
he slashed into one Nuru, then another. An enRaged bellow shook the already weakened stone as
still another caught him from behind and wrapped massive, black arms around Callan's arms and
chest, pinning him and lifting him off the floor. The claymore fell to the floor with a clang of
Adamantine on rock, and like the primitive scavengers they were, the Nuru and goblins began
killing one another to simply get their hands on the blade.
Grunting as the iron arms tried to squeeze the air out of him and his ribs slowly began cracking
under the pressure, Callan gasped for air, then snapped his head back, catching the larger,
lumbering Nuru in the throat. The grip lessened somewhat, giving Callan a chance to breathe.
Black spikes exploded from his back, shot through the crude steel and leather armour the beast
wore, then retracted as quickly as they'd pierced him, leaving the Nuru’kh-ai stunned as his grip
slipped away. A thrown elbow later, Callan dropped to the ground in a crouch, his black wings
cut and bleeding but spread halfway open. Calloused fingers touched the rough-hewn floor for a
second, no more, then Callan lunged into the fighting crowd with a howling scream of Rage.
"I'll be just a minute..." He Sent to Bran, then vanished beneath the wave of black-skinned,
armoured soldiers. Seconds ticked by where more and more monsters piled into the brawl, all of
them vying for the blade, few of them remembering who had wielded it originally, then flame
swept up and out in a growing orb, that had it had room, would have resembled a mushroom
cloud. A flash of light and heat radiated through the narrow hallway, incinerated every beast in
its path, then sucked and exploded into smaller nooks and crannies.
When the back draft ended, there was silence in that part of the Keep... and one Dragon Emperor
rising to his feet.
"Nobody… touches the sword." Nodding, Callan spun it over his shoulder and fastened it into
the harness at his back then took off at a trot in the direction Bran had given him.
Of course... that wasn't entirely true. Ash had whacked him on the snout with the sword several
times a few days ago...
Whatever control the Amazon had once had shattered in the face of the growing storm, forgotten
was the effort to block bonds, to keep her pain and shelter anyone else. The yawning pit in the
depths of her soul had gone renegade, sucking in the life force Samara thrust into it, as well as
anything else in its path. Several Nuru’kh-ai had been unfortunate enough to come to close, their
bodies untouched, but the dark souls that inhabited them ripped from their fleshly shells in
screaming agony, drawn into the vacuum of the conduit and cast into endless oblivion.
From An’Thaya herself came nothing but an endless shriek as nightmares were realized and
dreams were shattered. The reality of her life was impossible to ignore, the soul and all its secret
places laid bare before her own eyes. The lies told herself and others, the hidden hurts and
private agonies she had learned to hide so well. It had to stop… it had to end… much more and
sanity would be forever lost.
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Enough of self-pity… or regretting things she could not change…
“LET… ME… GO…”
Lurching backward she elbowed the Demoness in the face, breaking the fine bones of her nose as
well as concentration. She could feel Galain… somewhere in the mass of emotion and power…
he was out of the Keep, as safe as he was going to get in the midst of chaos and hell. Adarin was
there as well, somewhere… peripherally, beyond the grip of the Nuru’kh-ai. The children were
safe… but where were Fechine and Bran?
Callan is retrieving them, Agaru’s voice spoke up from the tangle of An’Thaya’s soul, he’ll not
let them die.
Aye… let’s give them a fighting chance then… shall we?
Tay stopped fighting, not Samara, not the Nuru’kh-ai, but the conduit itself. Power snapped in
emerald voids as the Amazon turned on the Demoness, grabbing not physically, but on the
spiritual plane, embracing the tsunami of life that threatened to drown her. The floor cracked,
stone crumbling beneath the awakened beast, every wisp of ambient energy slipping unerringly
towards the black hole… even sound. With a final groan of protest that went unheard, the
chamber gave way beneath them, the dancing flame of An’Thaya’s hair the last spark of light in
the room before it too disappeared.
Silence, even more ominous than the thunder of breaking masonry and unearthly screams that
had come before… Within the corridors torches guttered, then snuffed out as what fed them was
suddenly stolen. Nuru’kh-ai howled, then fell oddly silent though their mouths still moved with
the effort for moments afterwards, till their bodies fell like so many lifeless husks beneath the
scythe of the reaper.
"Doro!"
Bran spun around at Fechine's panicked call. The youth stared as an Nuru’kh-ai fell crashing to
the ground just inches from his feet, the sword it had intended to use to cleave the chestnutlocked head in two clattering beside it.
"What the hell?" The fair-haired elf stared at his nephew for a second, and then grabbed his hand.
"Don't ask. Just run" he ordered, all but dragging the stunned boy along behind him. "Callan. We
don't have a minute. You have to get An'Thaya out. CALLAN!"
Adarin had abruptly stopped fighting, overwhelmed when his bond to Tay erupted back into life.
He simply gasped for breath and tried to recall the disciplines of power he'd learned through life
and training, but it was unbearably hard. He wasn't aware of the destruction, the chaos, the
weirdness of the battle. Not at the moment at least.
And Galain stumbled, fell and shielded Ghetsuhm as he crashed to the ground. He felt Tay and
felt a wild, singing agony that ricocheted through his body for what seemed an eternity.
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"Gods," was all he could say as he checked his wife over for new bruises and scrapes, then
gingerly got back to his feet, keeping Ghetsuhm in his arms. It was a monumental feat of
strength considering the deprivation his body was still going through.
"You okay, Beloved?" he asked, temporarily confused about directions.
Ghet could not protect herself, she had no strength left. An'Thaya's unwanted pain flowed into
her, mingling with her own. She had screwed up so badly, and now she was draining the last of
the strength out of Galain when his other wife was going through gods knew what. I'll be all
right, she said, focusing her fading consciousness for a moment. You worry about you.
For the first time in her life, Ghet prayed. She had done what she had done out of love, as had
Galain, and for that, surely they were owed. Venus could not step foot in a place like Tenobrous,
but for her Blessed... warmth flowed into Ghet from the tattoo on her thigh, and she pushed the
little extra energy towards Galain. They had to make it out.
Galain grimaced. He could be told what to do, but that didn't mean he'd listen. He was frightened
for both of his wives, disbelieving of what was happening to them. He didn't argue when he felt
the strength Ghetsuhm pushed his way and instead lurched forward, kissing her forehead before
he settled into a slow and staggering jog, once again focusing on the warmth of the necklace he
wore to find the way to the others.
"Oh, aye, I'll get her out...but not before you and Fechine..." He'd freely ask to be damned to the
ninth level of Hell before he left his daughter's Vershan and Y'Roden's son in favour of his own
mate and her skinwalker. It was an easy choice to make for the Black Dragon, and he charged
through the corridors, trying to find the source of Bran's Sendings, then felt the wind knocked
out of him, then saw flashes of light. A loud 'OOOF!" of surprise came from Callan Blackthorn
as he looked at the person he'd flattened...or more to the point, people.
"Badb Catha! Fechine!" Topaz eyes widened as he looked down the dim corridor at the withered
shells of slain troops. A very distinct, very sinister sound tickled his ears...the sound of absolute
silence.
"Why do I have the feeling I didn't do all this?" He muttered and peered even further into the
gloom.
"The way behind us is clear," His voice was low and seemed to fall flat in the heavy silence, "I'm
not so sure about the exit, but Yarwin and Adarin are doing their best to keep it protected. Now.
Where is she?"
"A simple hello would have done" Bran muttered from his position flat on the floor. Pushing
himself to his feet, he helped Fechine up. The boy was worrying him. Like a shell-shock victim
he allowed himself to be pushed and pulled about as if he no longer knew which way was up.
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"She's back that way. Down the corridor and then through the open door on the right. Just head
for the screaming and hair pulling." Tiredness was starting to fray at the fair-haired elf's temper.
"Follow the sounds of what?" Callan had blurted out as he left Bran and tore off in the direction
the Elf had indicated. What the HELL was Bran talking about? The Emperor could hear sounds
coming from nearby, but hair pulling and screaming did NOT fit what his ears were picking up.
What he heard was like low shriek of wind and sharp cracks of...electricity? The smell of melted
stone and ozone assaulted his senses, reminding him of, "Hellfire and brimstone..." He uttered as
he charged through the door and let out a startled yelp.
Black wings shot wide and back-stroked as his booted feet slid to a grinding halt.
"Blessed Father of Chaos, what in the name of Brighid?" His words were distorted, grainy, as
though he was shouting into a sandstorm and his words were being sucked away by the coriolis
wind that drove the storm. Topaz eyes immediately flicked down as he carefully backed up a half
step.
Just beyond his toes, where the floor should have been, loomed an abyss of ebony night, a nearcomplete void where none should be. Suspended in the centre of this was a female figure bathed
in a rainbow of glittering colours and fragmented light. Odd, distorted howls, shrieks, snaps and
cracking jolts of buzzing energy lashed her body and vanished beneath her skin setting it aglow
as her floating form slowly revolved in first a vertical, then horizontal position. Flame red hair
shrouded the face and hid the eyes of who could only be An'Thaya Alcarin as her body slowly
turned upward then began an equally slow slide back to a facedown position. Jags of multicolored light raced in from every crack, every crevasse in the stone, slammed into her, caused
her body to arch and writhe and seemed to simply absorb into her very flesh.
"M'Tashnae??" Callan carefully nudged his bond to the Crimson Agaru and felt the very essence
of the power that bound their souls almost ripped from him before he could slam the bond shut.
Callan's brows knitted together as he slowly crouched on the edge of the chasm and struggled to
make sense of what he was seeing. On his right wrist, the D'Riel Dragon crawled and clawed at
his skin as if in reaction to sensing something familiar, something it belonged to, which stirred a
glimmering of knowledge in the Black dragon's mind.
"Her conduit?" His words were torn away, sucked into the glimmering vortex and shards of
energy. The calloused fingers of one hand gripped the edge of the shattered stone floor as he
leaned further over the edge, then shouted her name, only to hear it go forth garbled, as if the
very letters of her name were taken apart, transposed and shook about by her own power
unleashed.
A grunting growl of frustration joined the mangled sound of his voice, what in the name of the
gods was he supposed to do? Even he knew enough not to simply seize her in this altered state,
but what other option was there? Topaz eyes rolled up to peer at the vaulted ceiling as a
smattering of dust and gravel fell and pelted his shoulder. Sooty black cracks were creeping
across the ceiling ominously, arcing down the opposite wall, and flowing into the darkness as if
drawn to the Amazon suspended in a web of her own making.
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Samara's keep was crumbling, caving in. Time was growing agonizingly short and Callan had to
make a decision. A bark of rueful laughter joined the energy flowing into An'Thaya as one of his
favourite sayings for when in doubt came to mind...
Well? Do something, even if it’s wrong.
With a mental curse directed at Samara and all her kind and a soul-deep prayer to any gods that
might be wandering about, laughing their ass off and making wagers at the current situation,
Callan Blackthorn leapt from the edge of the floor just as it too crumbled and flung himself at the
enthralled Amazon.
A body-jarring thud snapped An’Thaya out of her trance, air rushing out of S’Hean lungs as the
Amazon’s small body was impacted by the massive Dragon Emperor. Emerald jewel’s popped
open, one moment reflecting Tay, the next Agaru, both meeting topaz blue with a shocked
expression as they freefell in a spinning-top tangle of wings, flaming hair and rainbow energy
into the depths of the abyss. Stone fell in heavy chunks, hurtling past into the endless dark,
barely missing the pair as both Elf and Dragon tried to make some sense of what had happened.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU ASS!” Tay’s mouth moved, forming the words, but no sound
came out, snuffed by the conduit before it could form. It had taken every ounce of willpower to
keep the conduit biased, to keep it from claiming the lives of her companions. Callan had
disturbed that balance… and now the entire Keep was crumbling down around their pointed ears.
“OH GODS! Let me go! Get out of here!”
The strain reflected on her face as she fought to regain control… Tay had known he was there,
had felt his voice in the energy flowing through her body… felt the bond to Agaru sear
throughout her own soul and sink into the vortex. Now she struggled to keep from absorbing the
Dragon’s very essence, halting the flow of silvery black stars that drifted through emerald green.
“Please… oh gods please… I don’t want to kill you…”
Another part of her mind was broadcasting as best as it could down the Web, taking the only
route the Conduit had not yet touched. Bonds were compromised, but the one thing the conduit
respected remained an open, though slightly garbled highway.
Fechine? Listen to me honey… you are going to have to find Shadow. Can you do that for me?
You need to find Shadow… you have to be the Key… and Shadow can open the door. Just
remember what Nenlante looks like and it will take you there. Get them home…
***
The clatter of armour on the stairs betrayed the arrival of the Nuru’kh-ai guard, a pair of the
brutish beasts that were in mid argument, jostling one another on the stairs whilst snarling and
snapping.
“Woi do we have t’feed em?” one was growing, “would make more sense just t’eat em.”
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The second snorted and cuffed the smaller Orc across the back of the head. “ ‘Cause we was told
to, and we do what we is told to do. Open the door.”
There was the rattle of keys and the screech of ancient iron as the first of the pig-faced brutes
stuck his head in. “Time for din din bois.” A black caldron full of what appeared to be gruel… or
something almost as pleasant skidded into the centre of the cell. “Enjoi.”
The second Nuru was silent, its beady eyes narrowed it what may have been thought.
“There’s wun missin’.”
“Wot?” The first looked from face to face, “How can y’tell? They all looks aloik to me.”
“’Cause wun wasn’ the same… had stroips in his hair like…” Swinging around the Nuru
grabbed Roc by the shirt and hauled him to his feet. “Where… did the striop haired wun go?”
Dampness had made joints stiff and Roc winced when he was hauled upright in the grip of the
Nuru’kh-ai. Cold D’Riel eyes were the only response the brute got for several seconds. “The rats
ate him.” Roc quipped sarcastically knowing the truth would have actually sounded even less
likely. Roc wondered to himself however how Reece had gotten Ki through considering the
collars they all wore.
The Nuru stared at Roc for a moment, passing the information through its rather slow thinking
process. Eventually, it decided that he was lying. The thought came on suddenly, and it hurt. A
bellow of rage blew Roc’s hair straight back in a blast of fetid breath that would have felled a
bull elephant. Shoving the young Elf back against the hard stone wall he grabbed the next man
he could get his grimy paws on. “I said where is e?” the beast bellowed into the Knight’s face.
Jacen's eyes went wide as the beast's putrid breath filled his senses. "I see you didn't take my
advice on the breath mints then?" he asked a calm look on his face. What he wanted to do was
throw up. He'd never smelt anything so foul; a dustbin would've been better. Actually what he
really wanted to do was let his armour loose and give this pile of crap a surprise. As it was he
thought he'd insult them a bit first. "Well he's obviously not here garbage breath. Maybe he's
with yo' momma!"
Jason wanted to groan. And heave. It was a tough choice, and he'd only just managed to get his
hands back in the cuffs in time, frustrated and tired he was unsure if he could completely unlock
them again, so they hung a little loose around his wrists, which he kept behind his back. "What
stripe haired one?" The irony of this sentence would hit him in the future... But for now... He
closed his eyes, wondering if that old telepaths trick of playing with someone's perception still
worked, or would work through the collar. "That stripe haired one?" Hopefully, there was an
illusion of Imoreki slumped in the corner, or he was about to test his kinetics again...
The Nuru’kh-ai was a split second from breaking the Knight’s irritating little neck when the
longhaired fellow spoke up, distracting the beast from its target. Beady eyes focused on the
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slumped figure in the corner and blinked. Several moments passed as the black skinned creature
assimilated what its eyes saw now, compared to what he had seen upon entering the cell.
“Oi think somethin’ fishy is goin’ on,” it snarled and elbowed its companion, “Go check on
‘em.”
The second Orc snorted and growled at the first, but did as it was bidden to, shouldering past
E’Than to get to Imoreki.
Y'Roce was recovered enough to trip the Nuru as he came to inspect what he thought was Ki.
The moment of pure satisfaction at seeing the foul beast go sprawling face first and sliding into
the stone wall was akin to a good battle high. Roc waited for the repercussions that were bound
to follow on that stunt but feeling to good about it to care.
Nuru's have unusually hard heads, which leaves very little room for brains. Struggling back to its
feet the beast let out an eardrum fracturing roar, and a great deal of spittle as it launched itself at
Roc… brute rage negating what little intelligence it possessed as it wrapped massive clawed
hands around the boy’s throat.
Dark eyes glittered in the dim light of the dungeon. E’than's shackles had not be replaced after
his being tossed down the stairs and knocked unconscious. They'd thought him dead, or near
enough, not to mention the Nuru that had slain its companion and cast it in the cell hadn't been
thinking too well at the moment.
Not that Nuru’kh-ai were exceptionally bright anyway.
The second Nuru was just beyond the bars, outside the cell but with the discovery of one
missing, he was backing away, looking up the stairs as though he would break and set up the
alarm any moment. E'than moved carefully, kept his hands low and behind his back as though
still bound, but along the line of his spine was the Nuru blade he'd filched from the corpse, its
point nearly visible over the top of his head.
As the other crept further away, E'than bolted with a wild yell and before the second Orc was
able to shout out more than a single word, the armsmaster swung with the crude blade...and
severed its head from its shoulders. The body stood for several seconds and did a macabre dance
before crashing to the ground with a crunching sound of flesh on stone.
"Well. There's something to give a man satisfaction." E'than rumbled out, then peered up the
stairs, then back into the cell, "Uh oh...we've got company boys...Roc! Jacen, quit playing with
that thing and kill him already. There's plenty more where that came from..."
It was like a dam holding back all Jacen's anger and hurt burst, letting more dangerous things
out. He was suddenly behind the remaining Nuru’kh-ai his eyes blazing. That which was at the
back of his mind, constantly there, waiting, watching, came forth. A wave of blue shimmering
liquid began to encase him covering his flesh, then hardened, creating an impenetrable shell.
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The Nuru's eyes went wide, looking down, it's slow brain trying to comprehend how the blade
that was now sticking out of its chest had gotten there. With a sickening squelching sucking
sound, Jacen pulled his arm back the blade coming free. With a roar the beast turned on the
Knight, letting go of Roc. Its massive hands were outstretched, ready to rip its attacker to pieces.
Powerful armoured arms swept them away as he moved in at speed, head butting the beast.
Thick, putrid blood sprayed out, covering those in the immediate area, most splattering on Jacen
and Roc.
Not giving the Nuru time to recover he went at it again slicing across its chest with one of his
terrible blades. It cut through the thick hide like a knife through butter, spilling its insides onto
the cold dungeon floor. There the beast stood motionless, hands on the gaping wound in its chest.
With a final bone breaking punch to the beast's face, it fell, dead. The Knight's chest was
heaving, adrenaline pumping through his veins. "You said we have company? Let's see that they
join their friend."
***
Lapis eyes peered through the ever-shifting, noxious green atmosphere of Tenobrous and locked
onto the thermal patterns of his two sons, his nephew, Rhagi, Shady and Ash. They'd made it
clear, but where was Bran, where was Fechine? That line of thought ended abruptly as the varied
heat patterns of some sort of... beasts... on chains, were released to hunt down the group that had
made their escape. Some of Samara's forces must have gotten smart and used a backdoor while
Yarwin and Adarin were flaming and frying those foolish enough to charge out and challenge
them. Apparently, they weren't going to simply let their quarry walk away.
"Hang on, King!" Yarwin banked hard to the right, the inertia of his swoop sucking the Elen
King hard against his back. The Shai'ay then dove through the murk, talons extended and just as
the first tracking hound leapt toward Ild'ashi, Yarwin snatched the beast mid-air and dropped it
with a loud crack as its spine snapped from the impact. Yarwin and Adarin vanished into the fog,
and while out of sight, he used his momentum to bank again and when next they saw Yarwin
Blackthorn, his body was soaring low to the ground, his silver wings were spread wide, his jaws
illuminated with the gathering Storm. With a whoosh of wind from his body, his Silver form
swept only yards over the heads of Shadow, Ash and their charges. Brilliant, white light and a
thunderous boom exploded into the forever night that surrounded the Citadel, then silence fell.
No hounds, no Dragon, no Elf could be heard. Stone and dirt then began raining down, mixed
generously with gory pieces and parts of hellhound and Nuru’kh-ai.
Morgan and Taylon both let out a yelp and covered their heads with their arms, then peered into
the gloom. Colours of heat flickered around a massive, smoking crater just at the foot of the
knoll they stood upon and nowhere amongst it all, was even a flicker of a living being.
"Father?" Taylon whimpered and crept to the edge of a huge rock, clung to its edges and looked
into to the hole, "He's...oh no." Taylon whispered, "they're... gone... all of them..."
Then, from far over the heads of the boys and their rescuers floated down rumbles of laughter,
punctuated with, "Daaayyymmmmnnnnn...Adarin! You kicked their asses!"
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"Father?" Taylon and Morgan spoke in unison, "FATHER!!! AND ADARIN! LOOK! They're
okay!"
"Aye..." Ash squinted into the gloom, "And we may be as well, for now." A distant howl went
up, "But not long. Where is Badb Catha? We cannot wait much longer."
"Adarin," Rhagi breathed, clinging to Caolan still. Adarin would do. Oh hells, Caolan. "Bran will
be alright," he said firmly. Sometimes he could be oddly convincing. "And mummy."
"DERA!" Fechine's anguished cry rang out, the youth digging in his heels and turning back as
his uncle dragged him outside. "No! We have to go back! She's not coming out! She's not
coming out!"
"What the...?" Bran's exclamation ended in a winded grunt as his son released Rhagi's hand and
raced forward to throw himself at him. "Caolan? Caolan. Oh Gods, you're alright!" The fairhaired elf scooped the boy up into his arms and hugged him tightly.
Tears of relief poured down the raven-haired boy's cheeks. "I missed you so much. I want to go
home. Please take me home," he begged.
"I will. I promise. Fechine, we have to go."
Emerald eyes turned to meet his, stunned pain blossoming deep in their depths. "She's not
coming. Dera Thaya. She's not..." Fechine took a deep, shuddering breath as the weight of the
responsibility the Amazon had given him settled on his shoulders. He had no idea if he could do
what she had asked of him, but he had to try. He could not let the others down. The protective
streak he had inherited from his parents insisted that he had to at least try to get the younger boys
out of this hellhole.
"I have to be the Key," the chestnut-haired youth whispered, "she told me. She said Shadow
would need to help me get us all home." He turned to look at the forest elf, his face white and
strained. "Can you help me? Please?"
When the thermal outlines of Bran and Fechine found their way to the rest of the group, Yarwin
spiralled to the ground, backstroked his wings with a spray of sand and grit, then settled nearby.
He paused to allow Adarin to dismount before shifting shapes and sprinted for the assembled
elves and boys.
"FATHER!" Morgan and Taylon flung themselves at their father, crying and laughing as the
Shai'ay swept them up in a fierce embrace; his own face lined with tears of relief and buried his
face in their hair.
Moments later, his eyes turned to Bran and Fechine, who seemed deep in conversation.
"Where is Callan?" He blurted out, and gently sat the twins down as he interrupted the pair,
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"An'Thaya? We can't leave withou..." The ground began to tremble, smaller rocks and pieces of
shale vibrated on the surface. A series of rumbling booms and thuds that were felt more than
heard rolled out from the stone edifice, there was a sharp crack of splitting stone, then, as if in
slow motion, one of the massive watch towers began to list. Vertical fissures shot up the walls
and scattered in a network of finer cracks. Then, as if an unseen finger of a god flicked the first
domino in a series of many hundreds more, the watchtower collapsed on its side, crushing its
twin, which was crumbling like the first one.
The outer walls began caving in and the Chaotic forces of destruction seemed to sweep inward,
and with it, solid rock split and shattered, walls of rock and mortar exploded in shards of black
granite, a cloud of sparkling, stone laden dust billowed up and joined the green mists.
"Blessed Mother..." Yarwin couldn't finish his request for help, he was stunned as he watched
Samara's keep continue its collapse and lapis eyes watched the final sealing of all possible exits.
They'd make it, they had to, he knew they would. Callan was a black-hearted bastard, aye, but he
was stubborn... and... well. Just too damn mean to die this way. And as for the Amazon, she too
had an indomitable spirit; she'd live just to prove Samara wrong...
Seconds ticked by, only mere flickerings of Time... but with each one, Yarwin felt his blood
chill, then run cold...
"Grandfather? But... but... he has to come back," Morgan gabbled out, "He HAS TO... he
promised to take me flying..."
"They're not coming..." Yarwin whispered, more to himself than his sons. He dropped to a
crouch as he continued to watch, panic clawing at his mind as the ebony fissures shot from the
citadel and across the ground... right their way. Lapis eyes widened, then narrowed... just ahead
of the racing destruction, was a thermal outline that fit the description of one Elen Prince,
running for all he was worth and carrying one buxom female... surely Ghetsuhm from the...
proportions.
"Rhagi..." Yarwin's eyes flicked to the boy, "Here comes your mum and Galain." The Shai'ay
continued to watch intently, then realized the cracks were spreading out, sweeping past the
burdened Galain, yet had left them on solid ground, and were almost to the foot of their little hill.
"Uhm... Okay... plan? Who's gotta plan?"
Rhagi's head came up. He'd shut his eyes against the chaos that tore at him. "Mummy?" He
paled, his lips pressing together hard. He wanted to run to her, and help somehow, but he knew
he'd only slow Galain down. Seeing her... broke the walls, and he began to cry.
Adarin moved close to Rhagi, but knew he was a poor substitute for the child. He'd watched the
keep crumble, disbelieving of what his eyes bore witness to. And now he focused desperately on
his nephew and Ghetsuhm.
Galain just kept running. He'd dodged a few search parties, nearly sent themselves skidding
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down a steep embankment and now he was trying not to notice that the ground was splitting
apart. He looked up just once, saw the others and renewed his stumbling pace. It was quite
possible he heard Rhagi's sobs.
"Love, your son is just ahead," he managed to tell Ghetsuhm.
***
Silverthorn gasped, pushing at the heavy weight of the furry corpse as it sprawled across her.
"Dammit! Get this thing off me" she bit out, rolling slightly to one side as a clawed paw lashed
out at her face. "Mira! Fire! Fire and Silver!"
Snarling and growling much like the wolves themselves, Mira slammed her head into one, lifted
it high on silver, curling horns and cast it into the forest. The Rage filled her so completely, even
her very form wavered. The Silver she was began to flicker and collapse and a soft whisper of
her grandfather's blade being drawn was lost in the yapping pack.
"Having problems?" The female voice was a low, unpleasant drawl.
Jade eyes flicked up to meet a dark, intense stare. She froze. "You might think that" the S'Hean
Queen murmured, knowing who, or rather what, stood before her, apparently unconcerned about
the rampaging pack.
"Here. Let me help you." Rhan grasped the werewolf by the scruff of the neck and hauled it off
the dark-haired elf. Slowly, cautiously, Silverthorn rose to her feet. There were four of them, she
saw now. A hunting party. She recognised the tactics, had used them herself. They swept out of
the trees like a pack of wolves themselves, silent and deadly, surrounding her and her
companions.
"Myrthrae. Trees," Seanait murmured as she passed her companion.
The Earth Mage nodded. "So I see. Vendui, little birdies. Won't you come down and join us?"
Branches reached out like hands towards S'araia and Gre.
"I think they'll be fine where they are..." Mira's throaty alto whispered into the newcomers ear,
"Let go of Arianne," Enkara's blade went to the dark haired stranger's throat, while Owen's sword
pressed to her ribs, "Tell them to move on," Glowing eyes flicked to the rest of the Ravens,
"Now."
"And who are you to challenge my authority?" Rhan retorted, holding herself still as the blades
pricked her skin. Dark eyes flashed a fiery warning. "So, the notorious Arianne Badb Catha
returns, and with friends no less. I wouldn't have thought you had it in you." Imperceptibly her
fingers began to slide towards the hilt of her own dagger.
"Not just friends...family...Blood..." Mira's hissed softly, her eyes flickering to Silverthorn and
back again, "And as to who I am...I am Mira Blackthorn, now Badb Catha, the mother of Muirne
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Badb Catha...the wife of Brandubh Badb Catha. That is all you need to know, Raven."
Mira gave the woman a grin, "Go for it...draw it if you think you can...but you'd better kill me
when you do..." The enRaged dragon-elf chuckled darkly and left the remainder of the threat
hanging.
"Now...where...are...our daughters?"
A sword point touched the small of the dragon-elf's back. "You can hardly blame us if you
mislaid them," Bronagh said coldly. There was no mercy in her grey-green eyes. "Now release
Rhan, or I will run you through." It was obvious that the Raven meant every word. Cold by
nature, the chestnut-haired elf would kill one of her own in preference to letting an enemy escape
her.
"You, my dear, have no idea just how little I care right now..." Mira's voice was soft and laced
with poisonous hate. Her head turned slowly and from the corner of her eyes met the ruthless
gaze of the woman behind her but her grip on the Raven in her arms did not lessen.
"You'll have to threaten me with more than death..." The Dragon-elf's husky alto was now almost
a animalistic growl, a sound never made by an elf.
"The death of your child, maybe?" Bronagh replied softly. "We all know she was surplus to
requirements. It was Arianne's daughters the Phantom Queen wanted. Yours was merely an
unexpected bonus. However, should her death be of more value..." She smiled coldly as her
words trailed off deliberately.
A soft, frustrated growl was all the Raven got from the dragon-elf for a moment, then, "So you
DO know where our daughters are..." An arched eyebrow later, Mira lowered her blade,
"Hmmm. You just bought your life...and hers, Raven." Ice laced her next words, "But make no
mistake, Muirne Badb Catha had best be alive and in stellar condition, or there will be no more
Ravens on Elemmiire, The Morrigen be damned. Am I understood?"
"Oh yes," Bronagh said softly. "You're coming over loud and clear. Seanait. Chain them." She
stepped back slightly so that her fellow Raven could place manacles about Mira and Silverthorn's
wrists. They were made of an unusual metal that at first glance seemed black, but gleamed with a
dark green tinge where the light caught it. "Just a precaution you understand."
Rhan glared at Mira as she moved away from the dragon elf. Her dark brown eyes lit by the
flames of anger. "Get the others and let's get going," she snapped out. Seanait nodded, carrying
more of the chains over to where Myrthrae held Gre and S'araia cornered.
"Of course..." Mira drawled out sweetly and flicked a brief glance at Silverthorn...followed by a
wild smile that was both chilling and unbalanced in its pure insanity. Her smile shifted to the
Raven that was glaring at her. Mira's blade was still in hand, and with a mad gleam in her eyes,
the Dragon-elf blew a kiss at Rhan, flipped the sword blade straight up, tapped the flat of the
blade to her forehead in mock-salute, then spun it over her back, re-sheathing it between her
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shoulder blades. While the rest of their companions were rounded up, Mira stood quietly, even
smiling and nodding her head politely at the fuming Ravens...she was the picture of patience...the
calm before the storm.
Gre struggled with the only too compliant branches and lost his footing. A curse escaped him as
the momentary freedom of his free fall was lost when the offending foliage caught him and
lowered him to the ground… right into the awaiting chains.
The S’Hean frowned down at the odd metal that encircled his wrists. “Right, and this would be?”
He asked, mentally kicking himself for the sudden burst of curiosity before letting out with a
startled oath as his bow tumbled down from his previous perch. “Um, could you make sure those
stay relatively safe and preferably intact please? I’m thinking they’ll come in handy on the return
trip.” He flashed a boyish grin.
"You're assuming there will be a return trip" Seanait replied dismissively as she snapped the
cuffs shut around S'araia's wrists. She stepped back, claiming the two captives weapons as she
did so. "It is done, Rhan."
"Good." The dark-eyed Raven smiled maliciously at Mira. "I'll claim that if you don't mind,
M’Lady." Without awaiting a response, Rhan retrieved the sword the dragon elf had just resheathed. "And yours."
Silverthorn gave her a cold look. It went against the grain to surrender her weapons. Not to
mention the fact that the idea of her hands being chained brought her out in a cold sweat. Slowly,
and with evident reluctance, she handed them over and allowed herself to be bound.
***
Emotions rampaged through her mind, the destruction before her eyes bringing back flashes of
memory of standing beside Railen as he told Elyen good bye, that long ago tower collapsing
around their ears. A vision of Galain sweeping An’Thaya out of the destruction blurred and
merged with one of Galain carrying Ghetsuhm. For a moment her mind rebelled and she felt
displaced as past and present warred in her brain. Shadow shook her head violently to banish the
image, and her emotions with it. She would deal with them later.
Taking a deep breath she turned towards Fechine and nodded, “Collect your thoughts, lad, and
focus.” She smiled reassuringly at him. She started to reprimand Yarwin for his comments and
stopped suddenly. Did she truly know differently? She was holding onto hope that they would
make it through, refusing to let that flame die despite the winds that tried to blow it out.
Death simply wasn’t an option.
The chestnut-haired youth's head snapped around. He had been staring at the destruction in openmouthed horror. It took a second or two for the forest elf's words to register. "Focus? Focus on
what? I... I don't know what I'm doing. I've never done this before and..." Fechine could hear the
pain and fear in his words as they faltered and died away.
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"Dera said to focus on Nenlante," he whispered, a lump forming in his throat at this. The boy
could not bear the idea of his aunt being trapped beneath the rubble. This was his fault. If she
hadn't come for him and the others... Blinking away tears, emerald eyes met forest green. "I
should do that, yes?"
The Forest Elf nodded, her voice changing to a soothing tone, “Take a deep breath and let it out
slowly. Tune everything out and just think of home, the soft roar of water falls, the scent of roses
drifting along the breeze... Close your eyes and picture Nenlante in your mind.”
Nodding, Fechine closed his eyes and tried to follow her instructions. It was so hard. The smell
of death and decay intruded, trying to force itself into his vision. Hands clenched so tight his
knuckles showed white, the boy forced it away, tried to think only of waterfalls and roses, the
palace, the forest.
Shadow took a deep breath herself, as if it would help the young elf in his task. He was so young,
too young for the burden of what he had to do, too young for the carnage that he had seen. The
other boys had been sheltered within their confines, and they had done their best to try to shield
them again when they escaped. The forest elf didn’t want them to live with the memories of
death, of screams, of anything other than their mischievous chaos, but she knew it was all
wishful thinking.
Another deep breath and she schooled her thoughts, clearing her mind to focus on her own task.
Deep within the swirling emerald galaxy of Fechine's soul lurked the Key to getting them all
home. Nervously he reached for it, fumbling in his nervousness and panic. It took all the courage
he possessed to push down the words that wanted to blurt out that he couldn't do this and seize
hold, pushing it towards Shadow.
Forest green eyes flashed brightly as the key came into her ‘sight’. Shadow grasped the offered
Key and turned it towards the partially formed portal in her mind. She felt it click into place, and
she formed the rest of the portal around it. A brilliant forest green and silver star bloomed
between the two, giving a glimpse of their destination that wavered as if they were looking into a
scrying pool that had been turned vertical, the forest green and silver mist that marked her usual
portals, swirled around the door.
“It’s time, but hurry!” Shadow cried out as the portal rippled as if someone had hurled something
into the centre of it.
Ghet moaned in Galain's arms. The pain was starting to tear at her mind. She wanted very much
to be somewhere restful, where she could just be still, and... well. "Rhagi. Where?"
Her son left Adarin's side at a run and thumped into Ghetsuhm and Galain as soon as they were
close enough. He didn't hear his mother's breath hissing in pain. He had no words; he just clung
to her and wept while she bit through her lip not screaming and stroked his hair. It's all right,
Rhagi, it's okay now. We'll be home very soon. You have to let go now, so we can get through the
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portal.
Yarwin Blackthorn was only peripherally aware that Ghet and Galain had made it and that their
way home was yawning open, waiting. His and his sons' lapis eyes were riveted on the citadel as
tower after tower, wall after wall caved and crumbled. Wracking sobs choked the twins as it
began to sink in that their grandfather wasn't coming home with them.
"We have to go..." Yarwin muttered as gently as he could and crouched down to scoop up one
boy in each arm, "Shady and Fechine can't hold the gate open forever, we have to leave."
Gasping, heaving protests and cries of denial came from Morgan and Taylon as they buried their
faces in Yarwin's silver armoured shoulder. Silver wings spread open slightly to block the view
of the boys as the Shai'ay turned his back on Samara's crumbling keep.
With a final, "Let's go home," Yarwin stepped through the molten gateway from this world to the
next, his sons in tow.
Adarin was next. He'd stepped forward after Rhagi, refusing to look at the collapsing keep. It
was far better to watch the reunion of mother and son.
"Come along," he said softly, tousling Rhagi's hair and then gently directed the boy toward the
portal. "There's little time."
Galain wasn't sure how he'd gotten to his knees, but that's where he was now. He staggered back
to his feet, shifting Ghetsuhm as gently as he could given the circumstances. He threw one final
look toward the keep and gritted his teeth. Tay couldn't be buried in there. There was just simply
no way. There was too much for her to live for.
"Let's go," he said and headed after his uncle and Rhagi, slipping through the portal after the
others.
Bran scooped Caolan up into his arms and headed towards the portal. "Time to go home," he said
to Ash on the way past. His jade eyes flicked towards Shadow and Fechine for a second, then he
nodded to them and was gone.
Bi-colored S'Hean eyes watched the distance, waiting for any final attackers, any attempt to stop
them. In silence, she prayed for daughter of the slain Derwin D'Riel and failing Se'Liene. In
silence she hoped whatever gods the Black paid homage to would be merciful and allow him die
quickly and with honour...and in silence, the Ranger nodded to the fair-haired Badb Catha elf,
and stepped into the portal. One final look over her shoulder, and Ash almost faltered...
The entire Keep exploded in a shower of lavender and icy blue rings of light, dust and
smoke...then froze, the stone, rock and grit suspended, yet spinning in the gloom and evershifting green mists...and with a bone-aching scream, sucked in on itself...
Fechine shuddered, refusing to look around as the sound of falling rock echoed around. "I... I
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can't hold this much longer," he whispered to Shadow. The boy fought desperately to maintain
the portal, but he felt as if he was being torn in two. The magic he was using was strong, but raw
and untested. With no real idea of what he was doing the portal was threatening to collapse.
Shadow almost looked back at the sundered ground but stopped herself at Fechine’s words. They
didn’t have much time. Copper fingers grasped the young elf’s wrist as she headed towards the
whirlpool that the portal was becoming. One slender leg passed through before she looked back
at the concentrating boy. “Let go Fechine,” her voice almost a whisper unashamedly yanking
him through, the barren wasteland where the Keep had been the last image in her eyes.
***
YOU ASS... Callan didn't have to hear the words, he knew that venomous look and it had been
directed at him pretty much on every single opportunity An'Thaya had ever had. YOU ASS... a
useful phrase that seemed to fit so many situations where Callan had found himself in close
proximity to the fiery woman. Any idle thoughts, such as, spread your wings you ASS or make a
grab for anything solid, you ASS were lost under a crushing tide of agony. For the span of only a
few seconds, he felt the drain, felt his very life being drawn out of his body as if through the very
pores of his skin.
The onyx tangle of black threads and silver memories of his soul seemed to lurch, the fibre of his
very being tried to unravel, and through it all, his body felt like it was being shredded. A gasp of
pain and spasm of tightening muscles later, it was over and they were still plummeting in
complete and total darkness. Black wings unfurled, then snapped tight when the wingtips scraped
down what felt like solid stone with a squealing, screeching sound like claws on slate that was
promptly snatched from thin air and devoured by the raging conduit.
A loud, rumbling growl of irritation shook his body. Regardless of her protests, Callan gripped
An'Thaya tighter with his left arm, shot her a look that said, YOUR ass better be hanging on,
then both his wings struck out behind him. The joints and pinions creaked; the leathery hide was
sanded off as they slammed into the stone face of the pit, then shoved the pair of them forward.
Onyx talons and scales exploded from his right hand as they collided with the wall and dug deep
in the rock. Their drop continued, but slower...and slower...and almost 15 yards later, Callan was
guessing, they finally stopped.
Dangling above the sheer drop, Callan dragged in a deep, trembling breath. If he wasn't having to
hang on to An'Thaya, he'd simply drop a handful of fire to see how far from the bottom he was.
Of course, he could just drop her...time the scream until she hit bottom....
"AUGGHH DAMMIT!" he growled mentally. He could hardly do that, as tempted as he was.
After all, she WAS Y'Roden's sister, and at least Galain would be happy to have her back, not to
mention, he'd be dropping Agaru.
More cursing in the Black Speech, then, "Damn you S'Heans...you always weigh more than you
look."
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“Then drop me damn you,” the Amazon snarled soundlessly, “Damn it Callan! Let me go! You
still have a chance to get out of here! Take it!” The jarring stop had nearly cost her control
again… she had to hang on, for just a few minutes longer. They just needed a little more time…
and they’d be gone. “Please… leave… I don’t want to die with your blood on my hands.” It was
hard to tell who was saying what, a constant flickering of souls revealed both Elf and Dragon…
sometimes almost appearing as one.
Along the Web she felt Fechine do what it was he had been born to do, his fledgling soul soaring
open and embracing the Aethyr as a portal opened to home.
Home… the sights and sounds of Nenlante filled her memory… she could almost smell the
waterfalls…
“Damn you! Let go! I can’t hold it much longer! When I let go, this entire place is coming
down!”
An'Thaya's shouted command filtered through the deafening white noise, and had his teeth not
been grinding in an effort to keep their tenuous hold on the stone, he'd have laughed. She'd called
him a stubborn bastard once too...he was certain she had, but couldn't put his finger on exactly
when. More than likely, if they lived long enough, she'd call him that again, because he wasn't
about to drop her, especially just because she told him too. Tender words for his Agaru would
have to wait until later; right now he had three tender words for An'Thaya D'Riel-Alcarin...
"Kiss..." Callan's talons were slipping and a booted foot slammed into the stone, as black spikes
sliced through the leather and carved into the rock, giving him at least one foot hold, "my..." the
other foot swung forward...and into nothing...a slow grin spread across his face, "ASS!"
Callan released his hold enough for them to drop once more, sank his talons in once more, and
swung forward...and prayed to Brighid the nothing his foot had connected with was a horizontal
tunnel. For a heart rending moment, he thought he just might have been wrong...an ungodly,
unholy thought, then the two of them smacked into the dank and dirty floor of what smelled to be
a long unused tunnel.
Tay let out a squeak of protest, then sucked in oxygen. “STOP landing on me!” she wheezed,
pushing up against Callan’s massive chest. Whether he heard or not was hard to gauge… the
sound had been reflected oddly in the tunnel before it sucked back into the conduit.
“Mmm… struggle a little harder,” came an all to familiar, though disjointed voice in the
darkness, “by the look on his face… I’d say he likes it.” Samara stepped out into the light of the
glowing tendrils, looking none the worse for wear after her struggles with An’Thaya. “Hello
there big fellow… my… my… D’Riels always bring me the best toys. Why don’t you come over
here and play with someone your own size? I promise… I’ll be much more entertaining than that
little bitch. Though… I must say… she does squirm divinely… would you mind if I watched? Or
perhaps you’d like to help me strap her down and we can both have a little entertainment.”
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“Skrun,” Tay hissed, ceasing her struggles beneath the Dragon Emperor, “she has more lives
than a cat…”
Chapter 11
Se’Liene’s eyes shot wide, her body going rigid with momentary fear as the Wards shot open
and the darkness of Tenobrous leaked into Nenlante. A mix of dread and relief filled her heart as
the Queen Mother struggled out of bed and shrugged into a robe, moving with a speed and grace
that belied the age that marred her lovely features. By the time she made it to the door, Mena and
Vanya were already racing down the hall, the pair roused from sleep for the same reason their
grandmother had been. The two faltered in their steps but Se’Liene waved them on, “Go on
ahead girls… I’ll catch up.”
Both looked torn for a moment, then Mena shook her head, “You go ahead Van, I’ll walk with
Grand-Ammah.” The tiny redhead looked from her sister to her grandmother and back again,
then nodded without a word and shot off towards the stairs. The strawberry blonde offered her
arm to Se’Liene and smiled, “a few more minutes not seeing Ammah and Addah won’t kill me.”
The trip home, to Yarwin, was the closest thing to warm pudding he'd ever walked through, and
the S'Hean side of the portal seemed to stretch, then slide off he and his two sobbing boys as if
reluctant to let go. A low, rumbling vibration filtered through behind him, the Keep must have
finally fallen... and still no Callan Blackthorn or An'Thaya Alcarin had come.
The fresh night air of S'Hea, full of the scent of sweet water, living things and clean air assaulted
the Shai'ay, who now feared himself the Emperor of the Black Throne. Like rich food to
someone who'd lived on little of nothing for so long, the scents and sounds hit him. The feel of
his soul spiralling around his bond to Rachel through the open wards filled him with relief and
hope...and left him fighting back sobs of his own.
He'd left a long hated sire behind...and for some reason...his hate for him. He had returned with
his sons... and had a new child to look forward to knowing and was just ready to take a hot bath,
take care of his children, and pray Corin was back in Y'Roden's capable hands.
As for Ash, the Ranger stepped through right behind Yarwin. She had no emotional attachments
left behind in Tenobrous, aside from An'Thaya D'Riel Alcarin. It left the quiet elf filled with
sorrow to leave her behind, but knew the Amazon daughter of Derwin would have pushed them
through herself had she needed to... and Ash was fairly certain she knew what had happened to
the stronghold and all within.
An'Thaya had given any chance at life so that they could live, and for that, Ash owed her eternal
gratitude...now if she could just convince the legion of archers that had drawn on them that they
were real, not wraiths come through a demon made portal...
Rhagi had obediently gone through the portal with Adarin, but as soon as they were through the
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other side, he turned back to his mother. There was enough light now that she was clearly visible
to him, and he saw what he hadn't seen before. Through the ruins of her shirt, between Galain's
arms, her stomach was swollen, and something inside moved. He took a step backwards,
swallowing hard to keep his stomach where it belonged. And a little voice in the back of his head
said, your fault.
Riven with pain, Ghet never noticed. It was taking all her will to stay conscious, and she wasn't
even sure why she was bothering.
Vanyalin hit the airdock at a dead run, her flaming hair a banner in the darkness as she came up
behind the line of Archers, her hand coming to rest on the Captain’s arm. “Stand down,” she
ordered, “It is them. Addah!” The tiny redhead darted forward towards her Father and the still
open portal, her eyes searching out her Mother, but coming to rest on Ghetsuhm instead. “Oh my
Gods…”
Galain's face crumpled with grief at that moment. He was relieved to be out of Tenobrous, but
sick that Tay had been left behind.
"Hello little daughter," he said, crumpling to his knees for a final time. He was so tired and Ghet
was so sick and he knew his uncle was feeling lost and agonized. He looked up at his daughter
and strove for a smile that mere shadows in the glimmering green light of handfire and dual
moons high above.
"I don't know where she is," he said, meaning Tay. "The keep fell as we escaped back here. And
Ghet..." He could only look at his wife's distended stomach and feel a crippling fear. He couldn't
lose both of his wives.
Shadow sagged with relief when they stepped back into S’Hea, whether it was from lack of
sleep, relief from being out of Tenobrous or the fact she could feel trees again, let alone see
them, was unknown. Argent had taken control of her as soon as both of her booted feet were on
Whispin soil. She could feel him restrain from scolding her for not taking care of herself as well
as not talking to Bran about Mira being gone, but the latter she’d leave up to someone else. All
she wanted was a bath and a bed.
Her temperature skyrocketed as her body adjusted to the heat, sending a shiver through her. She
released her grip on Fechine and rubbed her arms in a useless attempt to warm herself, but the
cold was coming from inside. The numbing cold of sorrow and loss.
Sleep, Kit, just sleep, worry about a bath in the morning.
Emerald greens flickered up from Ghet’s pain wracked face to her Addah’s, the skin around
Vanya’s eyes going white. Words refused to come, and her mind sought something else to grasp
rather than reality. “Rhagi? Come on sweetie… let’s get you inside. Here comes GrandAmmah… she’ll want to see you.”
Bran hugged Caolan close, his jade eyes scanning the approaching people. There was only one
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person he wanted to see, but she wasn't there. "Where's Mira?" he asked.
Fechine looked around dazedly. He was home. Tears welled up in darkened emerald eyes. He
was truly home. The sheer relief took the last of his strength from his legs, and the chestnuthaired youth swayed on the spot, his face haggard.
Se’Liene was very nearly out of breath when she reached the docks, leaning heavily on Mena.
She paused for a moment just beside the archers, tears in her eyes as she first hugged the frozen
Rhagi, then turned to gather Fechine close. “Oh my Gods… you’re ok… thank Arminiea. You
are freezing!” Turning she motioned to one of the guards, “give me your tunic.”
The Elf didn’t argue, merely passing his bow to the guard next to him and stripping the black
garment over his head and passing it over to the Queen Mother. Without another word she pulled
it over the boy’s head before looking at Bran, “We will discuss that inside dear. You all need rest
and something to eat before an update.” At that moment the vortex slammed shut and something
seemed to dawn on the frail S’Hean.
Emerald green jewels darted from face to face, settling second last on a stricken looking
Adarin… and last on the Elen Prince. “Galain Alcarin,” Se’Liene’s voice was barely a whisper,
“where is my daughter?”
***
A momentary flicker of Rage illuminated Callan's eyes as his head snapped up and he hauled
himself and An'Thaya off the ground. He was no stranger to creatures like this; her smell alone
marked her as demon-born. She stank of sweat and pride, souls devoured, broken and twisted.
Wrath flowed in the very core of her being and arrogant beauty oozed out of every pore. Topaz
eyes raked over her body, voluptuous and stunningly perfect.
A smile full of malice and dark intentions twisted Callan's face...a smile that been worn by
Araxmarr so often in his youth. The grip on An'Thaya tightened painfully around her ribs almost
to the point of cracking bones.
"Oh, aye...she does. I'd have to be dead not to enjoy it." There was a near imperceptible change
in Callan's voice as the darkness his Silver blood held at bay was given free reign over his soul.
Topaz eyes flicked to the struggling Amazon, then Samara, and Callan slowly twisted his head
up and to the left and rolled his right shoulder back, causing his neck and shoulder to crunch and
pop.
"The D'Riels? Bring you...toys? See, I don't like that word...toy. To me, that suggests a certain,
childish state of mind for you, and a lack of interaction, a certain...boring quality for me." The
echo of the dead air carried his words in a soft hiss to the Demoness' ears before they too were
swallowed by the roiling conduit.
"And as to watching," Callan's teeth grew sharp, the canines and eye teeth growing elongated,
more draconic, "What were you hoping to see?" A hate filled sneer twisted Callan's features into
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an equal mixture of half-Elven beauty and wicked, burning hate for An'Thaya, "Surely you know
I harbour no love for this one..." The Emperor lowered his head to sniff her hair and slide his
nose slowly down her cheek before lifting his eyes back to Samara, "even if she is indwelt by a
Crimson."
"To be honest, I'd just as soon kill her myself than let you have her..." Callan's smile held no hint
of a lie, no glimmer of untruth. Before he allowed Agaru to fall into this one's hands again, he'd
kill her himself...and let Samara deal with what he would become when the Madness claimed
him.
“That is exactly what I was hoping to see,” Samara’s tone was sibilant, her blood red eyes alive
with amusement, “Do I look like a fool to you? Go ahead… take her apart… slowly… you know
you want to. I’m sure a creature such as you could make it as pleasurable at first as it will be
painful in the end. I want to hear her scream… and some part of you does too.”
The Demoness folded her arms across her middle and leaned against the wall. “In the end… she
will take you with her… I’m sure you realize that, don’t you? Make her lose complete control
and that Conduit of hers will be the death of you. Either way… I win. I get the floorshow… and I
live on. Someday… Y’Roden will be mine again… and that end will be easier to reach with her
out of the way.”
One taloned hand stroked up the cold stone wall and the Demoness stretched languidly before
leaning in a little closer to the Dragon. “There… is… no… way… out,” a sharp fanged grin
twisted porcelain features, “Not for the two of you anyway.”
An’Thaya shrank back; sickened by both of the creatures she seemed doomed to die with. She
sensed the truth of Callan’s words and, for a moment, she was afraid. The ridiculousness of the
feeling struck her as sheer irony. Had she not begged him to leave her to die only moments
before? Why fear for her life now?
There was a temptation to simply let go… but no matter how repulsed she was by the Dragon
Emperor at the moment… he had done more good than harm since all of this had begun. She
could not take his life. Instead, she hijacked the bond to him through Agaru, taking a chance...
they had one last option... she hoped.
Jump, Tay ordered him silently, If you love Agaru… trust us…
Callan seemed to ignore An'Thaya's commands, and in the fingers of his right hand was a
dagger, a simple blade of common steel, forged by his own hand. It was nothing special in
appearance, yet it was as deadly as anything he carried. The razor sharp edge found its way to
An'Thaya's throat as his fingers slipped up her chest under her chin to force her face to turn and
the artery at her neck to be exposed. An agonizingly slow drag of the blade cut the Amazon deep,
but not quite deep enough to end her life...only hurt. Blood ran down her skin, its scent filling the
dank air of the tunnel.
A fine, telltale nerve beneath one eye twitched as the Demoness tempted him with the idea of
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hearing her scream and the scent of her blood filled his nostrils, "A floor show? A nice
comparison, but I don't see how YOU win. Either way, you get robbed of the satisfaction of
killing her yourself. Somehow, I hadn't pictured you as the kind to pass on a chance to taste HER
blood." Callan forced An'Thaya's head back and looked down into emerald eyes full of revulsion,
his own were frosted with cold hate and gleaming with burning Rage.
"You can smell it, can't you, Samara...and if you were a male...I'd say it makes you hard..."
Callan laughed softly and his smile twisted crookedly as he peered down at Thaya. As he did, the
blade began to change. The manner of the change was minute at first, nothing outwardly
noticeable by anyone. The change was purely internal. Callan Blackthorn had a most unusual
gift, one that Owen Diamondwood had recognized immediately in his young, half-Elven
apprentice. Callan could...order...a blade against Chaos. Possible imperfections could be
anticipated by the boy Callan had pretended to be, they could be smoothed away and
removed...but the ordering was deeper, something that went into the fibre of the metal itself.
It was the power of transmutation, the changing of the very molecular structure of an item, and if
Callan could order a blade against the powers of Chaos himself...so too could he order the blade
against Justice and give the blade over to the chaotic powers of destruction. The blade almost
thrummed against An'Thaya's skin, its structure wavering beneath the surface of the gleaming
steel. The Chaos within was crying out to be unleashed, to be thrust beneath the flame-haired
elf's skin and drink deeply of her blood.
"And let me give you a bit of advice on Y'Roden D'Riel." Callan lifted his head marginally to
eye Samara, "Just keep hoping..." Callan's wrist snapped, the blade that was flooded with Chaos
homed in on Samara's forehead...and with a leap of faith, Callan did as An'Thaya had ordered
him to do.
Oh gods...she was going to kill him when they made it home...
An’Thaya’s eyes were wide with fear, her mind affected by the rampant chaos of the blade as its
energy flowed into her open conduit. The Amazon’s body shook with the effort of keeping the
conduit under control and stood frozen in shock as the blade buried itself deep in Samara’s skull.
She knew it wouldn’t kill the Demon… perhaps only piss her off, but it gave them precious time.
The ground fell out from beneath her feet as Callan performed a swan dive off the edge, bearing
them both back into the void. The others were long gone, there was no one left for her to protect
but the Dragon himself. The scent of her own blood almost made the decision for her and fury
boiled in the Amazon’s blood. Yet… he had risked his own life to save Agaru… Why did that
mean so much?
There was no time to analyze it. Trust me… whatever you do… don’t let go. When I tell you to,
open a portal. Not one second before or after. A moment’s hesitation… did she really want this
creature to see her inner self? Even just a glimpse?
She had no choice…
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With chagrin, she drew the cloud of silvery black stars that was the essence of Callan Blackthorn
into the core of her soul and let go. For a moment everything seemed to grind to a halt, even their
fall in the darkness… and then, a flash of blinding emerald light exploded out from the Amazon,
power absorbed, now magnified and released like a nuclear detonation. NOW! DO IT NOW! The
Key, magnified and empowered slammed into Callan’s soul, seeking the outlet of the portal that
would take them home.
A rending howl of a portal being forced open shrieked through the air. A wide, jagged rip, its
edges oozing with rotten green power split open. There was no time to open a portal properly, by
requesting this place and time allow them passage. Callan did what his Black nature bid him do,
and took what he wanted from Tenobrous without thinking, without question...without
permission. The scent of fresh water, blue skies and verdant forests flooded his senses
instantaneously with the flash of released, emerald green power and the Key being driven into
his soul.
Don't let go....
A distorted echo, was it spoken or remembered? Whispered through his mind.
Don't let go...
How could he? When much like Tenobrous, the Black Dragon Emperor roared in agony as his
soul split open to receive the power that would take them home.
***
Sahar crouched down in the shadows, iron hued eyes watching the clearing before flickering
over to the fallen elf beside her. Her nose wrinkled at the rank odour of the beast, even present in
her World, that pinned him down, it was the only outwards sign of displeasure as her dusky hand
flickered into the real world and clamped down on Remmy’s wrist to bring him through and hide
them from the Ravens.
The delicate fingers of her other hand tightened around the hilt of her shamshir, dusky bronze
knuckles turning white as she fought the suicidal urge to go to her companions aid.
“Mistress is a bad influence,” she muttered.
Remmy clapped a hand to his forehead and groaned, the S’Hean had aches in places he had, until
this point, been unaware of. “What? Mistress? Who? Where the Hells are we?” he hissed.
Everything looked… odd… shadowy, for lack of a better term. Wait… was he half in, half out of
the werewolf? The sudden urge to scream was only held down by the expression on Sahar’s face.
The Shadow Being looked pretty intense…
Sahar looked down at Remmy and snorted, “You stink.” It was said a little too calmly to have
been said with humour, unless you counted the twitch at the corner of her mouth. Shifting
slightly, she used one booted foot to heave at the werewolf.
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“You are in the Shadow Realm, my home, or rather the Elemmiire level…” she shook her head
to come up with a better term to explain and just shrugged. He’d have to figure it out on his own.
She ignored the Mistress part, it wasn’t of importance. “I’m going to move my hand now, do not
do anything stupid.” She released her grip and pointed at the shadowy figures a short distance
away.
“It would appear, that a welcoming party was sent out for your Queen and the rest of us.”
Remmy felt a little disoriented when she let go, and reached out a steadying hand to rest against
the bark of a tree. The Elf tried to look offended over her first comment, but… frankly, he could
smell himself, or rather the werewolf on himself. Visions of bathing rooms danced in his head as
Rem leaned forward quietly to eye the Raven’s who were now herding their companions off.
“Damn,” he whispered, “Now what?”
The Shadow Being turned her head to study the S’Hean. “We follow,” she stated matter-offactly, “they don’t expect us, and as long as we can remain unseen, it’ll be left that way. We
could always pick their numbers off slowly, or create enough havoc that they think we are
ghosts.” For the first time since the whole mess began, Sahar grinned, her dusky face lighting up.
“It’s great fun to mess with the enemies’ head.”
Remmy stared at Sahar for a moment, then grinned rather madly. He liked her view on things.
“Aye… it is.” With the quiet stealth granted him by S’Hean ancestry, the Elf rose to his feet as
the group entered the trees on the other side of the clearing. “Well then,” he whispered, pointing
up, “I’ll take the high road, you take the low road?”
“Yes, I am not a monkey,” she flashed another grin, finding the thief to be a refreshing fellow.
Sahar held up a finger and slid a necklace off from around her neck and dangled it towards him.
“Since I will not be able to touch you, this should allow you to slip through the veils if it is
required.” The Shadow Being rolled her shoulders and nodded.
The Elf reached out and hooked his fingers into the necklace, examining it curiously for a
moment before raising his gaze to hers. “D’Anke.” Slipping it over his head he settled the piece
of jewellery under his tunic and grasped a low hanging branch. “Away we go then.” The S’Hean
pulled himself up and saluted her from his perch before moving forwards after the Raven’s and
their prey.
***
Anaya had given up on trying to sleep. The muted nature of her bond was driving her insane, so
she meditated, praying for the safe arrival of Calab's soul in the place where no Shadows fall.
The commotion stirred her from her thoughts, cries to head to the airdock had the blonde on her
feet almost without conscious decision and she bolted, eyeing the growing crowd with no small
amount of trepidation. And then...
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"Dera 'Naya!" The twins launched themselves at her, and she picked them up, tears once again
falling. "Father and Grandfather saved us!" Morgan cried, holding on to his aunt for dear life.
"But Gran-Father's not here..."
Yarwin shook his head slowly at Anaya, as weary lapis eyes met hers, confirming her
questioning look, then sucked in a deep breath of night air in Nenlante. Gods, the humid, warm
air seemed to warm him from the inside out.
"'Naya? How long have we been gone?"
He missed his wife and was now worried about his sister. Where was the dragon-elf? When
they'd left she was in no condition to go anywhere...then a chilling thought hit him, caused his
blood to freeze...and he looked hard at Bran's back.
No...were Mira gone forever, had she walked across the threshold, he would know. Where was
she, then? Surely she would have felt their bond restored and been here?
In concerned silence, he turned his eyes from Bran to Galain. Gods, the elf had been through
hell, literally. He had no idea what had happened to the Elen and Fechine while there, and he
wasn't sure he ever wanted to know. How the pair of them were still standing was beyond the
Shai'ay, and now Galain had to explain to Se'Liene why her daughter had not returned with the
others.
Galain had opened his mouth to respond to Se'Liene, his stomach dropping as he realized the
immensity of what he was about to share. He couldn't quite believe it though.
And then, at the far end of the dock the air shook, a slight disturbance at first, like someone had
struck a surface similar to the taut skin of a drum. Several of the Rangers turned their heads,
Elven hearing zoning in on the unfamiliar noise, one or two taking a step back as a jagged line of
light scratched itself onto the night, leaking green mist that billowed out onto the stone. A low
shrieking howl of air whistled through the crack of illumination, rising in pitch to a level that had
several of the elves clapping their hands over sensitive pointed ears.
It seemed as if it might die away for the space of a breath, when the tear suddenly gave way as if
beneath immense pressure and the dock rocked with a massive sonic boom, the portal forcing
itself open in an explosion of power that roared up the narrow walkway, tossing Se’Liene into
the arms of a guard. White light and tangles of black and emerald energy burst violently over the
companions in a liquid cloud that tossed several of them off their feet, and brought with it one
howling Black Dragon and a flame haired Elf.
Shadow and fire, they spiralled above the heads of the others, as they reached the apex of the
explosion, Callan’s outstretched wings shuddering against the push, then snapping back as the
portal reversed, sucking everything it had expelled back towards its nexus. Tay’s scream of
protest said she, at least, was aware of what was happening, and what their fate would be should
they be reclaimed by the shrieking vortex.
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“CLOSE IT!… CALLAN!… CLOSE IT DAMN IT!… Oh Skrrrrrrrrrrrrun!”
The pair were only a few feet from the portal and the Black Dragon showed no signs of
responding.
CLOSE IT DAMMIT!!!...The words had barely registered in Callan’s mind and echoed distantly
in his thoughts. They had fallen through with An’Thaya crushed against his black armour,
gravity had already caused them to twist, pulling Callan’s heavier mass down first…leaving him
facing the portal and An’Thaya’s back to the liquid gash in the skies over Nenlante. Then
Tenobrous had tried to deny them their freedom and began inexorably hauling them back. As
they hung there, suspended over a place they‘d thought never to see again and the unholy,
twisted place they‘d just left, his eyes had rolled open and a hot wind had swept around them,
flitted across his chilled skin and ruffled his hair. There had been a very good reason why Callan
Blackthorn had not closed the portal when the Amazon Queen crushed against him began
screaming the command at him.
Ice blue, softly glowing eyes that seemed molten topaz swirled with living emerald as he stared
into the portal. Jags of illuminated power snapped and lanced out from the torn edges between
here and there, reached for he and the flame-haired woman he refused to give over to the
Demoness. Transfixed, he watched…in the place they had just left, stone and mortar fell,
darkness and light seemed to try engulf everything at once, and through the destruction, beyond
it all yet within the dying stronghold, was Samara in her true form, enraged. In her fingers was
the Chaos tainted blade, its metal fairly humming with unspent energy. Seconds passed, yet
eternity seemed to flow around he and An’Thaya.
Visions of a chained and broken Amazon played through his head, bloody cuts and bruises
covered her as his own hands both healed and inflicted the pain.
“You could have her, you know. You were cheated of her once before...Oohhhhh...you don't
remember?" Soft laughter echoed through his very core, "No matter...imagine the power you
would have with my blessings on your House. Imagine what I could give you…”
Images of the Keep, shrouded in green murk, the lands around it smouldering and burning,
cleansed by DragonFire, seized his imagination, “Everything your sire failed to take would be
yours, the Elven lands, the AngelHome…all of it, yours. Pretend all you wish, Araxmarr…the
Light does not command your heart. You want this, you want her, yes?” Her voice was a sultry,
full of macabre promises…all of which she knew Araxmarr wanted, yet denied himself.
“All you have to do, is…just…let…go…”
It sounded so reasonable, it sounded so simple, so easy to do just that, to let go and he was a
hair's-breath away from giving Samara what she wanted so desperately. Black wings had
snapped forward, pulled into the tugging current of Tenobrous' invisible fingers coaxing them
back. Land and power, death and destruction, to be free of regret and cares...she had offered him
exactly what he longed to have, she had offered him a chance to be who he was before the first
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seeds of love had been sewn in his soul.
Gods, how he wanted that...he could taste the fear, the doubt, the lust and pride of countless
victims, men and children, women and the old. Noble or peasant, it hadn't mattered to him, a job
was job and pleasure was just that. A tantalizing game that always ended in prolonged agony for
the dying and exquisite release for him.
"You're not a half-elf, Araxmarr...Callan is but a ghost, a mere memory, a whisper of guilt in the
back your brain...he would be easy to exorcise..."
"Just. Let. Go."
Almost, he released her, almost he believed the promises...but it wasn't just An'Thaya she wanted
him to release, it was his sense of right and wrong, his honour. She was asking him to give up the
fight; the battle between living the way he knew was 'right' and living the way he desired so
badly.
Half-remembered words filtered through his mind and chewed at his thoughts..."Whatever you
do...don't let go..."
Time slowed, paused, seconds to those watching were minutes to Callan Blackthorn... then a
malevolent smile twisted Callan's face and his arm spasmed tight around the red-head, "I have all
I need..." His voice was gravelly, husky with Rage and refused temptations. The vicious, halfElven grin turned crooked, arrogant, a smile that had infuriated so many creatures in Callan's
long life, "find yourself another toy..."
“CLOSE IT!… CALLAN!… CLOSE IT DAMN IT!… Oh SSKRUUUUUUN!”
Time jolted and lurched forward...
In a last ditch effort; the Amazon wrenched the wards themselves shut. Her back slammed
against what seemed thin air, Callan near flattening her in the process. For a moment, the pair
seemed to hover before the raging vortex, nothing but the invisible barrier of the wards between
them and what would have been certain death, until gravity worked.
Tay was given the equivalent of whiplash as the massive Dragon Emperor dropped like a rock
and the pair revolved on the way down, and for a moment she panicked, sure she was going to
die squashed beneath him… yet again. As physics would have it, however, Callan hit back first,
sparing An’Thaya and her pride in one go. However… he seemed to have taken the ‘don’t let go’
instruction a little to literally. For a moment, she wondered how big the cockroach was they had
squished judging by the noise, then instinctively started swinging.
“Let me go you egomaniacal moron!” Even from this position and the limited movement for
swinging a punch, the crunch when she connected with his jaw was immensely satisfying.
"YOU WENCH! YOU REDHEADED, ARROGANT BITCH! GET. OFF. ME!" Callan's grip
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loosened marginally and strong fingers snapped around one delicate fist as it descended again
and began to squeeze the fine bones of her hand painfully. Every word was laced with blood
flecked spittle...not only had the lining of his jaw been shredded with the force of her swing, but
several ribs had been broken from the impact of his back slamming into the air-dock. He was
also guessing from the sharp pain lancing his side and his inability to catch his breath properly,
apparently a lung was damaged.
"Well, she's right here," Galain finally managed to say, a huge grin of relief plastering itself to
his face.
"Oh aye...and apparently none the worse for wear." Ash quipped as her bi-colored eyes widened.
"May I suggest you use the flat of his blade on the end of his nose, M’Lady?"
Shadow eyed the display with no small amount of amusement, "Always one for scaring the hell
out of us, aren't you?" She was referring to An'Thaya, but it probably fit Callan as well, though
from the shouting she doubted she'd been heard.
A sigh of relief escaped Bran. The loss of the Amazon and the Black Dragon Emperor, two
people he both liked and respected, had weighed heavily on him. A frown still darkened his
brow, however. Something was wrong. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Mira
should have been here. So should Muirne. They both should have felt bonds be re-established,
heard the commotion within the palace as the travelers returned. Where were they? What wasn't
the Queen of Corin telling him.
"Se'Liene," he began, and then stopped. How could he press when her own daughter had just
returned from somewhere like Tenobrous? and yet, how could he not?
"Your Majesty. Please, where is my wife?"
Voices filtered through to Tay, through the pain of Callan’s grip on her wrist, through the horror
in her mind over what the Dragon had almost done. His soul was still sheltered within her own,
and everything he had seen… felt… desired… it had all cut through her mind and soul like a
razor. The sound of Galain’s voice should have soothed her, eased the stress, but it only added to
her rage, inflaming it with the agony Samara’s words had caused. The Amazon didn’t have to
look to know where he would be… with Ghet, hovering over her like a worried mother hen. The
other redhead always needed him more…
“You… little… bitch, well… at least you understand how I feel now. How it hurts to have your
mate taken away… to be able to feel him, to hear him, but not truly touch him. Husband in
name… but he loves her more, doesn’t he. The truth is painful… what if I told you… he never
cried out for you once while I tortured him… but he did cry out for her.”
“SHUT UP! Let me go you son of a bitch!” Horrified, the redhead realized if she could feel
everything about him… the reverse was true. Shame and fury flushed her skin a brilliant shade of
red and the small woman reared back, swinging with her other hand and nailing the Dragon
smack in the eye. I’m not stupid, she snarled, wrenching at his soul, I saw what you wanted…
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you sick bastard.
What was truly terrifying was the reality of Samara’s envisioning… the accuracy of detail… and
what disturbed An’Thaya the most, was her own screams. Not the tones of fear or revulsion…
but something else entirely.
Twisting she threw her weight, pressing on broken ribs with malicious intent.
An explosion of silver light eclipsed the low moons of Whispin "AAAGGGHHH!" Callan's brief
snort of pain was followed by a bellowing roar that would have shook glass windows, had there
been any close by. Writhing in agony as An'Thaya's knee dug into fractured and broken bones,
one black wing slammed into the airdock and flipped them over. Callan's bulk pinned the
enraged Amazon to the dock and one hand had a handful of fiery hair seized up to pull her head
back and expose her throat. The flash of his down-striking arm was the only warning the
Amazon had before a black dragon-scale blade slammed into the stone next to her head close
enough to her cheek that a thin rivulet of blood beaded up then ran down her skin and chips and
slivers of rock showered the side of her face.
"IF it were not for Agaru... I swear..." Callan's threat died on his lips, only to be internalized and
Sent instead.
"Were I you, I'd be very careful who you call a sick bastard, An'Thaya Alcarin... your own soul
betrays you... and be very grateful I don't need what SHE offered to BE the sick bastard I am."
"Take my wife," Galain said to Vanya. "Please." He was sick with as he lurched toward Callan
and he punched the... he punched him out.
"Don't. Ever. Touch. My. Wife." he gasped, punching again. "You've made her bleed. That's MY
prerogative." Gods, if he could just separate the dragon from the lady.
Two wives. Two achingly dire injuries of the worst sort. Galain groaned and kicked Callan away.
Vanyalin did as her Father asked, crouching down to support Ghet as Mena moved forward to
take Rhagi’s hand. “She needs medical attention,” the redhead breathed, a little wild eyed as she
watched Galain take a shot at Callan. “What the hell are they doing? Never mind, you,” she
gestured at one of the guards, “I can’t lift her, carry her up to her chambers and call the healers.”
Dropping her gaze the young Elf stroked her stepmother’s face with gentle fingers. “Ghet? Can
you hear me? We are going to take care of you now… ok? Captain D’Brel is going to carry you
up to your room.”
Ghet just closed her eyes and nodded. She didn't want to be here, not for this. Her heart ached
almost as badly as her stomach. She wanted to be somewhere quiet and still, the feeling growing
on her that this time... she'd pushed her luck a little too far.
"And it’s MY prerogative to not let YOUR WIFE..." Callan hissed out as he grabbed Galain's
ankle and jerked him off his feet, "RAPE my soul any longer than necessary...THEN SHOVE the
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things I both despise and want to embrace IN MY FACE."
Callan let the elf who was his friend lay as his shoved himself up on his knees. The black blade,
bracers and armour slid away; leaving him in the crimson quilted 'shirt' he'd worn through
Tenobrous. The back of a shaking hand wiped black-red blood from his mouth and nose, then
snapped his wrist, sending fat drops of dragon blood to the stones.
Still fighting to shove the Black side of his blood back, Callan rose to his feet, glared down at his
friend, then flicked his eyes, still roiling with D'Riel emerald to the Amazon.
"Get your gods damned, Light's Hope soul away from mine...and while your at it, don't you
EVER..." Callan jabbed a finger at An'Thaya, "EVER presume to treat me like you're better than
me. At least I admit what the hell I am."
Dazed Tay slapped a hand to her cheek, and then shielded her face with her arm as Galain
attacked the Dragon Emperor. She was torn between utter hatred for Callan, and unbearable guilt
for tearing her husband away from his second wife when she needed him. The odd mix of
emotion halted the raging scream and translated into tears. Your own soul betrays you… A hot
flash of shame and anger lanced down her spine and the Amazon thrust Callan’s soul from her
own.
Too fast… and too forceful… the effort threw An’Thaya’s whirling galaxy slightly out of
alignment, and left her feeling oddly empty. A low whimper fell from her lips and she rolled
onto one side, a cascade of flaming hair flowing down to hide her tear streaked face.
Se’Liene straightened with the aid of a guard and met Bran’s gaze. “Mira is with Silverthorn,”
the Queen Mother said softly, her eyes flickering past him to her stricken daughter, and then
back again. “I’m sorry Bran… Linnis took Muirne and the twins and ran off to Elemmiire. Your
wife and my daughter in law have gone to retrieve them.”
Eyes that were a mix of topaz and D'Riel emerald suddenly squeezed shut as Callan felt his
stomach roll dangerously when An'Thaya literally threw him out of her soul. For a moment, he
swayed on his feet, an oak tilting dangerously in a thunderstorm, then swallowed bile back.
When his eyes flickered open, the colour was once again clear topaz, not the reflection of a soul
being violently hijacked.
"I'm glad you think she's worth it..." Callan mumbled at Galain, as he turned on his heel to leave
the dock. The fire was rapidly leaving the Emperor, and in its wake was exhaustion, complete
and total. "I know I don't."
Captain D’Brel tore his gaze away from the scene at the end of the dock and nodded respectfully
to Princess Vanyalin. Pushing his long chestnut hair over one shoulder the tall elf knelt down and
gathered Ghetsuhm into his arms, moving as carefully as he could manage as he lifted the slight
woman and turned towards the Palace. The other Rangers made way, clearing a path to the rose
garden for their Captain, his precious cargo, and Vanyalin. The redhead cast a worried look over
her shoulder at both parents, then hurried on after D’Brel.
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***
The woman who moved through the Inn made absolutely no sound. The only trace of her
passage was an odd, warm scent of sun-warmed apples and roses. Finding Y'Roden wasn't that
difficult: she knew from Ghet what his soul 'felt' like.
The face that smiled down at his restlessly sleeping form was Ghet's; indistinguishable. She bent
to kiss his cheek gently, then sat on the side of his bed and watched him wake.
Y’Roden’s sleep had been restless as it was, his connection to Arianne on fire with strained
emotion. So much to worry about… his people, his children, his wife… He made an odd
rumbling sound as something brushed his cheek and emerald eyes flickered open, hazed with
sleep.
“Ghet?” The half-elf sat bolt upright, “what are you doing in here?” Instant panic mode hit,
Thorn would literally explode… wait… “Is Rhagi alright? You’re back? Where is he?”
Venus laughed softly. The look on his face was just priceless. If only she'd had more time, she
would have taken such pleasure in tormenting him. "Oh, sweetheart. The way the whites of your
eyes show round that bright green when you panic? Gorgeous. But you're working it out now,
aren't you? I'm not really Ghet." The illusion faded, showing a much taller woman with long
blonde hair and golden skin. It was just as much an illusion as her first appearance, of course, but
it was a face she'd found fairly neutral which didn't freak people out so much.
"Of course," she said, her voice still soft but now with a rather dangerous-feeling undercurrent,
"currently Ghet doesn't look like that either. She looks rather more like this." She gestured, and
an image formed between them, clear but with a rather smoky pink tinge to it. It was Ghet,
prone, her head tossing restlessly, sheened with sweat, her skin a nasty shade of grey, her
stomach scarred and swollen.
The half-elf went visibly pale, freezing for a moment as his gaze fixed on Ghet’s abdomen. “Oh
my Gods…” Tossing back the covers Ro stumbled to his feet, all vestiges of sleep disappearing
as he grabbed his trousers and pulled them on. “Where is she? Oh Gods… what the hell was she
thinking getting that close to Samara?” His tone held a tinge of tears and he ground the heel of
one hand into his forehead, the chestnut fringe of his hair vibrating violently.
Venus spent a moment grinning hugely at Y'Roden's back. Nice. She was quite capable of
appreciating him physically and sympathizing with his pain at the same time. "She wasn't
thinking," she said gently, "she was loving. You know perfectly well she wouldn't think twice
about putting herself in danger for anyone else, let alone her son, especially not Galain..." She
stopped. It was all horribly complicated by mortal standards, and Ghet was running out of time.
"She's in the palace in Nenlante. She's being cared for, but there's nothing they can do. There's
nothing I can do. Only you. Life's full of these rich little ironies, isn't it?"
Ro felt oddly self-conscious and shot a suspicious look over one heavy shoulder at the Goddess
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as he shrugged into his shirt. “Let’s hope I’m in time,” he muttered shakily, “they are carrion
eaters, not parasites. They don’t know enough to avoid vital organs.”
Valin, he nudged his eldest son awake none to gently, getting a startled grunt in return. I have to
go back to Nenlante, don’t ask questions, just do as I say. Take Glory with you when it’s time,
lead in my place. It will be your Kingdom… do your people justice.
It was abrupt, and likely unsettling, but it was the best Ro could do at the moment. Dishevelled
and pale the King barely got it together enough to open a portal. Once again, his past was coming
back to haunt him.
Venus nodded, rather to herself, both satisfied and sympathetic. "She lives for now. It went down
instead of up. For how much longer..." She sighed, and gathered herself up to go. Once, she had
thought to cause this man unimaginable pain for hurting the woman she thought of as a daughter.
Now, she rather wished his heart peace. "Go," she said softly. "I'll be there when you get there."
Ro nodded mutely, running a shaking hand through his short dark hair before stepping through
the portal into the familiar surroundings of Nenlante.
***
For a long moment Bran stood as if dazed, the expression in his jade eyes uncomprehending. His
sister and his wife had gone to Elemmiire? But that was insane. 'Nasse at least had sworn to
never return there.
Then the true impact of the news hit him.
"She did what?" The words were an explosion of raw fury. "The little bitch. And people were
going to tell me this when?" The fair-haired elf set his son down and stalked forward to glare at
Se'Liene. "My sister and my wife have gone running off to rescue my daughter and nieces, and
we were going to discuss this later?"
Fechine huddled into his borrowed tunic. It hadn't even occurred to him until his grandmother
had hugged him that he was only wearing the sheet he had taken from Samara's bed. The cold
inside was bone-deep, as if he would never be warm again, and came from far more than just the
temperature of Tenobrous. The chestnut-haired youth wanted nothing more than to see his
parents, to be held like the young child he felt like at the moment. His emerald eyes were dark,
the yawning pits of someone who had been to hell and back, stark against his white face.
"Ammah is not here?" he whispered. His voice cracked on the words.
Se’Liene’s eyes flashed as Bran stepped towards her and she lifted a hand to halt the guards the
automatically moved to interpose themselves. “Whether you were told now, or later Milord Badb
Catha, there is nothing you can do about it. I did not see the point in over stressing the children…
but you’ve effectively taken that option away now haven’t you. See to your son.”
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The words had barely left her lips when yet another portal shot open at the end of the airdock.
Behind her bows creaked as the Archer’s brought their weapons to bear, then lowered them
quickly as their King emerged looking as if he had just rolled out of bed. Which, in fact, he had.
Ro skidded to a halt, staring at the prone An’Thaya for a moment, then continuing on up at a
loping jog to scoop Rhagi into one massive arm and wrap the other around Fechine. “Oh thank
Gods… my boys.” He kissed the top of Rhagi’s head and hugged the older boy hard. “Let’s get
the two of you inside… then there is something I have to do. But I will be here when you wake
up, I promise."
Fechine clung to his father for a second. The temptation to break down and cry was almost overwhelming. Shaking, the chestnut-haired boy drew back, wrapping his arms around himself as he
bit his lip. "It's good to be home,” he said in as steady a voice as he could manage.
His emerald gaze dropped, the youth unable to look Y'Roden in the eye. For all that he was glad
to be home, part of him didn't feel that he deserved to be here. Deliberately he looked over at his
uncle. He didn't remember ever seeing Doro Bran so angry before. In fact, he wasn't sure he
remembered him being angry ever.
An unusual fury gripped the fair-haired elf. Jade eyes sparked as he looked at the brunette.
"Don't ever presume to tell me what I should and should not be doing with my own children,
Your Majesty," he spat out at Se'Liene. "You had absolutely no right to decide when and where I
should be told."
Scooping Caolan up into his arms, he stalked into the Palace.
Y’Roden D’Riel’s vision went completely, utterly RED. Emerald eyes burned holes in the back
of Badb Catha’s head as he stalked off towards the palace and the half-elf shook slightly in an
attempt to contain a wave of rage. If he had not been holding Rhagi, Ro would have flattened the
platinum haired elf for speaking to his mother that way, brother-in-law or not.
He didn’t want to know what was going on between Thaya, Galain and Callan, certain he would
be tempted to bash heads there as well. With a steadying breath he leaned in to kiss Se’Liene on
the cheek, “I’m sorry Ammah… are you alright?”
“Aye,” the Queen Mother smiled and patted Ro’s arm, “people can’t help being Asses when
they’ve been through that much stress. Take the boys and get inside.”
Yarwin only shook his head at the entire scene, he was overcome with relief at seeing his sire
and the Amazon Queen return...for several reasons, one of which he'd blurted out, "Oh THANK
GODS! I'm not the Emperor...thank Brighid..."
Two pairs of lapis eyes turned to Callan as he and An'Thaya slammed into the dock and
immediately tied into one another, only to be joined by Galain.
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"Father? Dera 'Naya? Why are they doing that?" Taylon asked quietly, "We're home...kinda.
Why are they fighting...and..." The child looked at Se'Liene and Bran, "and why did Muirne go
to Elemmiire with Linnis? Why is Doro so mad? Who did Fechine's BedreAmmah just call an
ass?"
"Ssshhhh..." Yarwin cut Taylon off...then Morgan with a stern look as the second boy started to
ask his own 101 questions. "We're home...kinda. That's all that matters. Let's go inside with
Caolan and get a bath and something to eat, okay? Maybe you two and Fechine can have an
eating contest, aye?" Yarwin gave Fechine a narrow, concerned look, "Then again...maybe not.
Come on...in we go..." Yarwin pried the boys from Anaya and started herding them inside, "You
too, 'Naya...I...I think I need to hear how Rachel is doing...."
Fechine's gaze slid away from Yarwin's. He could sense the others concern, but wasn't convinced
that he deserved it. "I... I'll be inside" he said quietly to his father and grandmother. "I just need a
bath and some sleep, then I'll be fine. Really. You both ought to go. You have things to do I'm
sure."
Without waiting for a response the boy slipped away.
Ro’s sigh was deep and extremely frustrated. The tension on the dock was thick and he was
tempted just to slap the hell out of half of them with the Web. That, and the change in Fechine
was twisting his gut.
Instead, he turned to Shadow and hugged her tight. “D’Anke Desh’iel,” he murmured, “it is good
to have you back in one piece.” He kissed his daughter’s cheek and smiled down at her, “go get
some rest ok?”
Shadow chuckled and returned the hug, for a moment laying her head on the half elf’s shoulder,
“It’s good to be back, Desh’ketai,” she chuckled slightly, “and for a change I won’t argue.” The
forest elf looked up at Rhagi and winked conspiratorially at the boy. “You can wander around in
my head later, that’s a promise.
The forest elf kissed her father’s cheek then looked back at Galain and An’Thaya. “I hope
everything will be all right…” she half whispered. But all right for whom, she wasn’t sure. “I’ll
see you…sometime, I think there’s a bed somewhere with my name on it.”
The half-elf chuckled and Shady and winked, shifting Rhagi a little in his arms as they walked
towards the palace. He wanted to just sit down and hold his boy… let the terror ebb that had been
roiling in his soul since his two youngest boys had been taken. That luxury was not one he could
currently afford, however. Ghet came first.
Rhagi clung hard to his Addah, burying his face in his chest. He didn't understand why, now they
were home, everyone was all upset and yelling. He'd expected to be safe, but so much was not
the way it should have been, most of all his mother. So he made his world very, very small, just
himself and his Addah.
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Galain hadn't moved for several long minutes and now he did, sitting up and shaking his head.
He should have been thanking Callan, and -- he whipped around, relieved to see Ghetsuhm was
being cared for. Gods he hated this... He looked back to Tay and then knelt beside her.
"Tay?" he asked softly. "Are you all right?"
The Amazon’s breathing was shallow, panting, the pain an even mix of physical and emotional.
Sheer exhaustion had stolen the last of her strength, leaving the small woman shaking
uncontrollably. She didn’t want to think… a huge part of her was wishing Callan had left her
behind, or slit her throat. It was better than this…
Galain’s voice sounded… distant, an old and familiar comfort that hovered just out of her grasp.
Tay couldn’t even see him through her masses of hair. No, she wanted to scream, she wasn’t
ok…. She hadn’t been ok for a long time. The will to speak didn’t come, and even if it had… her
husband had far too much to deal with already. Frankly, she had been surprised when he had
interfered, and was impassively waiting for him to hand her over to Adarin… as usual.
In silence, Callan had walked past the mother of Y'Roden D'Riel and into the palace. He refused
to meet her eyes as he passed and barely acknowledged her brief, questioning look. So, Linnis
had taken his granddaughter and their two cousins to Elemmiire? Callan hoped for her sake, that
Mira found her first and found Muirne and the other girls whole and unharmed...Callan could
guarantee death at Mira's hands would be far quicker and less agonizing than what he would do
to the woman.
The Dragon Emperor paused just inside, his icy eyes scanning the corridors, he had no idea
where he needed to go.
"M’lord Blackthorn?" a soft, familiar voice behind him...Il'dashi... "You need quarters. If you
will allow me, I will show you to one of the guest chambers."
Ash did not wait for a reply, instead walking past the half-Elven seeming dragon and in her usual
quiet manner, led him through the corridors, into one regal tower, and eventually, opened a
heavy oak door carved with twining roses.
"I believe you'll find this room suitable." The Ranger paused at the open door and waited for him
to enter first. Once inside, Ash's bi-colored S'Hean eyes looked at Callan's back.
"Thank you. Callan Blackthorn. However the means, whatever was offered that you refused,
thank you for bringing her home. Thank you for braving hell itself and going with us."
In further silence, Ash shut the door quietly and slipped away, ready to find her own hot bath and
bed. A soft smile crossed her face as she considered the dragon's body language. He had all but
flinched when she thanked him...and the Ranger could swear she'd seen scarlet creep up the nape
of his neck and flush the exposed points of his ears. So? The big bad Black was embarrassed by
gratitude. Ash would remember that detail...one never knew when it could be useful.
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Once the door was closed, Callan slowly looked over his shoulder. Dark circles were starting to
form under his eyes as the last of the Rage and adrenaline high he'd been on for...weeks?...
Days?... burned away. Wearily, he began removing daggers and other sundry weapons he'd
carried there and back, and finally stripped off the battle harness that held his treasured
Claymore. Reverently, he lay THAT blade on the bed. Black wings furled in; compressed and
vanished, along with it the crimson 'shirt' he'd worn for so long...which translated into half-Elven
skin in sore need of a hard scrubbing. Bare from the waist up, Callan paused in front of a large
oval mirror that stood near an armoire. He'd lost weight on this trip, gained more scars...and
needed a shave and a haircut badly. A surreptitious sniff later confirmed he also stank...
"Lovely..." He mumbled. Dragons of either colour were customarily exceedingly clean creatures,
almost as fastidious as Elven kind. Disgusted with himself on so many levels, Callan Blackthorn
peeled off the black leather trousers, the war-boots and kicked them into a corner. He'd burn
them in the morning. Fire was a big no, no here, and the dirty garments could wait.
Completely naked, Callan's eyes fell on several crystal decanters of distilled spirits on a bedside
table, pulled the cork out of one and sniffed. It smelled like oranges...
Nodding slowly in approval, Callan turned, bottle in hand and walked slowly to the deep bath
nearby and just as slowly stepped off into the water, wincing as he sank into the steaming bath
and the heat began its work on muscles pushed too far. A long drink from the bottle had him
wincing again as the alcohol stung his mouth where the skin had been cut by his own teeth due to
Galain and An'Thaya's thrown punches. Another drink had his mind relaxing as well. He wasn't
about to admit it to anyone, but Y'Roden's sister packed a punch, and he didn't just mean
physically.
Sick bastard...
A deep exhalation at the memory of those words had him shutting his eyes and shaking his head
as he grabbed a sea-sponge and picked up a bottle near the edge of the bath. Inside the bottle was
something that looked like white sand, but foamed when it came in contact with the water. Now
THAT was nice. Sand AND soap in one...something the dragon could appreciate. Grunting as
the suds found their way into open cuts, Callan began to scrub his hide clean.
Sick bastard? She was right...and that was what bothered him most. She was right. Samara had
been right. He was a pretender, a wolf that had wrapped himself in a half-elf's skin and had
actually began to give a damn about...elves...
Still scrubbing, Callan's violent scouring slowed when he got to his right bicep...and the ring of
autumn leaves there. For several long moments only the drip of water trickling off his shoulders
could be heard, then he went back to scrubbing...fingers eventually touched the bondmark on his
collar bone...Agaru's mark. Gently, he nudged the bond and sighed. The Crimson was either
asleep or preoccupied...and it was just as well. She'd probably ream him out anyway when he did
hear her next.
Gods...Galain was fortunate, two women were more than even a Black Dragon would brave...but
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the Elen Prince was lucky. He didn't have to wait until a blue moon to see either wife. They were
always there, always accessible...unlike Callan's mate...who relied on An'Thaya's acquiescence to
see him.
Finally, Callan fished around in the basket of bottles, soaps and various scrubby...things...and
figured out what was shampoo, then lathered his hair generously, scrubbing away grime and
sweat. With his eyes squeezed shut and soap in his hair, he fumbled around, found the liquor
decanter and took several long drinks, which effectively drained the container, caught his breath,
stepped deeper into the small pool, then sank beneath the steaming surface, simply let himself
settle on the bottom of the bath and let the heat of the water finish the job of relaxing him AND
rinsing his hair.
Bare feet padded across the marble floor of the bathing room, pausing on the edge of the sunken
bathing pool and curling slightly over it as emerald eyes studied the submerged form of the
Dragon Emperor. The look in their depths was a mix of things, angry, but mostly amused.
Pale green skirts fluttered in a breeze from the window and long hair fell in a cascade as she bent
to pick up a back scrubber, humming softly as delicate feet slipped into the water, the edges of
the dress soaking as three of the stairs were traversed. Small fingers slipped into the depths and
hooked into short black hair, and with a strength that belied the Queen Mother’s frail appearance,
she yanked Callan Blackthorn up to the surface.
A large bubble had welled up when a handful of hair had been snatched and his bulk had been
hauled up by said handful. It burst just over his head with a muffled yelp of surprise, and
sputtering and dripping, Callan Blackthorn found himself eye to eye with Derwin's
widow...which was odd, because he KNEW she stood more than a foot shorter than he...puzzled
for a moment, his orange liquor and hot water fuzzed brain registered she was standing on the
steps...in the bath...fully dressed in her gown.
"M’Lady?"
Before he could protest, she had nailed him between the eyes with the bristly side of the scrub
brush, and scowled. “We need to have a talk… your Emperorship.”
Whap... she smecked him with a scrub brush!? "Yes ma'me..." Callan stood a little straighter and
eyed the brush as though she held a sharp blade...at least she'd used the bristly side...he wasn't
sure he could take another beating without having at least a shave and a nap.
“That is a good boy,” Se’Liene said softly, “now… first things first.” Still holding his hair she
leaned in very close and let Callan get a really good view of the scrub brush, and its very long
handle. “If you ever speak to my daughter that way again… I will personally insert this
somewhere on your person that will permanently improve your posture.”
Pulling back a little she smiled sweetly, “I am the first to admit, An’Thaya is wilful, pigheaded if
you really want to go that far, and has a temper to match her hair… on the outside. But I’ll beg
you to remember she is a S’Hean Princess, no matter what the tragedy of her life has moulded
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her into, and should be treated as such. Especially in the presence of her Mother…” Se’Liene
paused, studying the depths of topaz eyes, “No matter what you think you know …you don’t
know her, young man.”
The Queen Mother straightened, cleared her throat, and tossed the brush onto the marble tile at
the side of the tub. “Now… I’ll forgive you both that moment of idiocy, considering what you
have been though. I owe you my thanks for returning my daughter to me.” She patted his cheeks
a little to vigorously with both hands and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “D’Anke.”
Callan's cheeks blazed, and not from the patting Glory's Gran-Ammah was giving them. Softly,
he cleared his throat, "M’Lady, I hardly deserve your thanks...because no matter what you think
you know...you don't know me...Hell." He sank to one of the steps slightly higher than where she
stood.
"I don't even know me. I thought I did. I guess I was wrong."
The Emperor scrubbed his face with dripping fingers and pinched the bridge of his nose, then
rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb as though he had a headache, then blinked up at a Se'Liene.
"I almost didn't bring her home. You have no idea how close I was, M'Lady. No. I don't deserve
your gratitude." Unconsciously, Callan scratched at the D'Riel Dragon on his wrist, then leaned
forward with his elbows on his knees and stared quietly at the eddies of steam flitting across the
water and nodded absently
"But I'll agree with one thing. She is pigheaded..."
***
Fechine let himself slide into the waters of the bathing pool with a faint sigh. Closing his eyes, he
let the warmth sink into his skin, yet even that couldn't seem to dissipate the bone-deep cold that
had penetrated through to his very soul it seemed. Would he ever feel warm again? Emerald
green eyes slid open to stare almost blindly at the cuts and bruises that marred his flesh. More to
the point, would he ever feel clean again?
Picking up the soap, he covered himself in a mound of lather, scrubbing hard enough to make his
skin red-raw, and yet he could still feel the Demoness' hands on his body. His breath sobbed in
his lungs. Would she never leave him be? Burning shame flooded him. How could he have ever
let her do those things to him? The images that scalded his brain made him shake and cover his
eyes with his hands as if he could block them out.
"Leave me alone. Leave. Me. Alone."
Desperately he hauled himself from the water and grabbed a towel.
The healers of S’Hea had done what they could for Imoreki, mending the torn ligaments and
muscles of his neck and back and reducing the swelling around his vertebra. He was still
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extremely tender, but could move about on his own now. The stripe haired elf hadn’t made it out
onto the dock to greet his brothers, so he had headed for Fechine’s room not long afterwards,
knocking softly on the outer door before he poked his head through.
“Fechine? Are you awake?”
The chestnut-haired youth spun around a little too wildly and had to grab at the bedpost for
support. Emerald eyes flicked towards the door. He sagged with relief as he saw who it was.
"Ki," he breathed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Yes... Yes, I'm awake. I was just getting
dressed." He gestured towards the clothes laid out on the bed.
“Getting dressed to go to bed?” Ki asked, “I would think you would want to sleep for a few days
straight. I’ve barely managed to crawl out from between the sheets myself since I got here.” The
Elf sighed and leaned heavily on the back of a Divan. “Are you ok little brother?”
"I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" The tone was sharper, tenser than Fechine had intended. "I'll be
fine. I will." It sounded more as if he was trying to convince himself than anyone else. "I'll get
some sleep soon, I promise." But the idea of getting in bed was one that made his skin crawl at
the moment. That was where his nightmares became more real.
"How are the others?" Deliberately he tried to change the subject.
Ki didn’t answer at first; he merely watched Fechine for a moment and chewed on his lower lip.
Despite being through hell himself, he was more concerned over the other boy. “Well… that
depends on which others you mean,” he said softly. “Everyone that came through from
Tenobrous seems to be doing alright. Valin managed to get Si’Lyen back… but Tallin still has
Y’Roce.”
As he spoke the Elf slid onto the divan, wincing slightly before settling in comfortably. “We are
still waiting to hear if your Ammah has found the twins yet.”
The chestnut-haired youth sank onto the edge of the bed. "I heard. BedreAmmah mentioned it
when we got back. Doro Bran went through the roof. I don't think I've ever seen him so angry. I
don't know any details though. What happened? How did Linnis get the girls anyway, and why?"
Ki shook his head and shot Fechine a helpless smile, “I’m not entirely sure myself, I’ve only
been back about a day. I get the impression she lured them right out of the nursery and took them
to Elemmiire… something about your Mother’s bloodline.”
A sigh shook his brother as he dropped his head into his hands. "Gods, won't it ever end?" he
muttered. "If it isn't one thing, it's something else." He ran his hand through his thick chestnut
hair, leaving it standing up in untidy spikes. "Why us, Ki? Why..." Fechine bit back his
unfinished sentence. Why me? A far too revealing question, and one he didn't feel he had the
right to ask when he had siblings still in the hands of people that wished them harm.
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***
Was it the wrong question? Galain was starting to double over. He was mostly gone and he had
two wives past the point of survival as far as he could sense and tell. It was Tay that was... he
just shook himself.
"Tay!" he called out. Conscious of a wary Adarin over his shoulder.
It was the urgency behind his voice, the strain… the over all feeling of just being tired and
beyond his limits, that finally jolted Tay out of it. At first she just lay there, listening to the sound
of her own ragged breathing and fighting against the raging pain in her soul. There was
something desperately wrong… a slight shift in the axis of the galaxy that made it slightly
unstable and the edges around an old would were frayed. The gash Elyen Ilander had ripped
open… that Railen Rossëvirin had patched… and over time, Galain had filled.
She knew what it was… the beginning of insanity… the start of her own death. D’Riel souls
relied on the stability of the orbit around the vortex of the conduit to exist… once broken, they
slipped into insanity… their spirit and self eventually decimated by the very thing that gave them
such immense power.
Very quietly Tay took her pain, her anger and resentment, folded it up, and tucked it back into
the place she had hidden it for so long. Galain was first… as he always had been, no matter what
it did to her. Finding a centre of calm, she reopened her bonds.
“I’ll be alright,” she managed weakly, brushing a clump of hair away from her eyes so she could
meet his sea green gaze. “I’m so glad you are ok Galain… I love you.” Arranging her mouth in a
smile she let the hand drop, “Go… she needs you…”
She would not be okay...
Galain’s gut clenched.
“But you need me,” he answered quietly. “I love you. You’ve just gone through hell. She has
too. My gods…” his voice broke off as he rocked backward. His wives should be alone with him
– in one place and yet together. He silently wailed and then bowed down, still rocking.
“Love,” he said, his voice cracking as a hand slid across his shoulders.
He shuddered.
He didn’t want that comfort because it came from Adarin.
I don’t want to leave, he said quietly to his wife. I don’t want to leave him to you. I don’t want to
him, to anyone.
He stopped suddenly as his uncle’s grip grew stronger. The man had his own love and bond and
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again Galain hated it.
Somehow, his protests made it worse. Words she needed, wanted to hear, yet they couldn’t
change reality… they couldn’t change the fact that Ghetsuhm needed him more than she did at
this moment. An’Thaya had Adarin… Ghetsuhm only had Galain…
Ironic, how the Amazon’s attempts to fill in the gaps left in her life when Galain had married
Ghet… had only made those wounds deeper.
I don’t want you to leave either, her tone was almost a whimper, but Ghet only has you. I can’t
do that to her… I know how it feels. Please… go, for me.
Galain gasped out again. They were all so sick, wounded and tired. He saw no rest for any of
them for a long while yet and all he could was hold his wife's hand to his lips, kissing Tay's palm
desperately before he had to move away, pushed away even by Adarin himself. After all, all
Adarin had was Tay herself. And he was quite desperate to be at his bondmate's side, to help her
and give her his strength.
Galain did give Tay over to Adarin, but not willingly. He cursed Fate as he slipped away,
wondering how they could have all reached such a state.
Tay managed a smile for Adarin, barely managing to wrap her arms around the Elen King’s neck
as he lifted her from the cold stone. “Hello there,” she murmured, “I don’t suppose you’d mind
helping a girl find a bath and a bed?”
She didn’t watch Galain go… she couldn’t… her world shrank down to just her and Adarin.
Adarin was holding Tay in his arms, holding her close. He was intensely glad his nephew was
gone and angrily possessive of this hurt woman in his arms.
"I wouldn't mind at all," he said, profusely glad to communicate with Tay on a level he was used
to. He'd missed her and hated Tenobrous intensely. "I bet I can find the best sponges, the
warmest water and the most attentive of servants for your bidding," he said softly as he swung
them both around and let silent guards lead the way.
***
Se’Liene was quiet for a moment, watching the Dragon, her delicate features expressionless.
Then, crouching down beside him, she put a hand on Callan’s shoulder. “You do not mix blood
with a family, and not expect them to know things, Death’s Dream… and vice versa. How… for
instance, did you know the true meaning of my daughter’s name? No one besides the Gods
themselves and her Uncle address An’Thaya as Light’s Hope.”
A tired, half-disgusted sigh welled out of the Emperor and for a moment, his eyes searched for
another bottle of liquor. Damn...why hadn't he brought more than one to the bath with him? "I
called her that for one reason," He looked at Se'Liene, "and one reason only, M’Lady. I think you
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know why and I think you understand exactly how I knew the meaning of her name. Just as she
now knows the same about mine, as do you apparently, but she also knows exactly how close I
was taking Samara's offer. Had she not closed the wards, I don't know that we'd be here now. I
made my decision, but I made it almost too late."
A gentle squeeze communicated more than words, “It is not what you were thinking, what you
almost did that you should be judged for. It is what you did do.” Leaning forward the Queen
Mother lowered her voice to a whisper, “A Mother sees…. A Mother knows… sometimes more
than her children realize about themselves. Forgive my daughter the pain she caused you. She
sheltered your soul Callan, in my lifetime I have never seen a D’Riel attempt to do so and
survive. You have seen more of her than anyone has a right to see of anyone else, yet not enough
to truly understand. She strikes out in defence… to hide her pain, to protect her secrets. Surely,
you of all people should understand that.”
“Allow me to paint you a picture Callan Blackthorn, so that you may better understand… allow a
Mother the peace of knowing that once she is gone, there will be one remaining that does.” The
Queen smiled wryly, the fine lines etched around her eyes deepening; "will you do that for me?"
More silence filled the chambers for a time. Gratitude had always made him uncomfortable for
so many reasons, and now, to add to his discomfort, the Queen Mother wanted to explain WHY
An'Thaya D'Riel Alcarin was the way she was?
Callan wasn't sure he wanted to know. He'd been forced to see more than enough of the Amazon
and hoped to never see that much again. Slowly, his head turned and he looked into Se'Liene's
eyes...what was it about this elfin woman that made him want to treat her with deep respect?
He'd known Derwin only for a few short years, and yet the flame-haired, laughing Human had
commanded a similar response from Callan. Both had treated him warmly, as though he were
good and honourable.
Sick bastard...
They just didn't know him that well...
She strikes out in defence… to hide her pain, to protect her secrets. Surely, you of all people
should understand that...
He was about to refuse the mother of Y'Roden, until he looked in her face. She was tired, tired of
living, of losing loved ones, of knowing one step further and she would be...home....
Had anyone else asked this of him, he would have simply said no.
"Well, I have to hand it to her, she knows right where to land a punch...I can't promise I'll forgive
her, but alright, enlighten me."
He desperately hoped her illumination was not going to require the later employment of a
proctologist....
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Se’Liene had to turn away for a moment, merely to hide the wild spark of amusement in the
depths of her emerald greens. After forty thousand years of life, Se’Liene D’Riel knew how to
read people, and Callan Blackthorn, for all his blustering about his own darkness, was one of the
most fascinating personalities the Queen had run across in millennia. She knew full well he
would say yes to her request, and why… it really wasn’t fair to play with his head… but he had
played the game himself before, so it served him right really.
Secondly, he was sitting in fairly shallow water and despite the S’Hean ‘devil may care’ attitude
towards nudity; the Dragon Emperor was… quite the specimen. Even a Widow could blush.
Closing her eyes for a moment she managed some amount of composure and turned back to face
him with a solemn expression.
“Close your eyes… and imagine yourself in the tiny little footsteps of this woman you hate so
deeply… think of all the things about her that drive you completely insane… then clear you
mind… and wonder… why… why is An’Thaya D’Riel the way she is?”
There was a pause, filled with silence, only the lapping of water against the sides of the pool.
“For that matter… why is Tay Terne the creature she has become? For there… is where the
trouble truly begins. Eight centuries knowing who you are, yet fighting for every breath you
draw, running from a phantom and never knowing why. But you have a name, you have a Father,
you have an identity. Until the world falls down, and nothing is what you thought it was… Not.
Even. Your. Name.”
“An’Thaya D’Riel… just a name, a part of a life stolen from you before the first rotation of the
suns upon your life. Everything, and everyone, is a lie, and destiny lays its heavy hand on your
soul. You are the Hope of two entire nations… of a people who have been damned to Hell itself.
The struggle to reclaim them, and your birthright is a struggle beyond anything you ever
imagined… but at long last… you succeed. A Father and a Mother, the reality of a childhood you
never had… and a brother that is almost left behind.”
“Somewhere along the way you find love, something precious, something you never thought to
have. What need, after all, does an Amazon have for love? You treasure this gift for centuries,
despite its obvious faults… until it is ripped from you.”
Se’Liene slid a finger beneath Callan’s chin and tilted his head up, “You are familiar with that
feeling… having a love that meant everything ripped from your soul. But it isn’t final death that
steals it away, not for my daughter; it is the very gods themselves. Imagine… living every day
right by his side… forbidden to touch… forbidden to love… One would go utterly mad… I
should think.”
“Centuries pass, as is the nature of time… and you take back what was stolen, defy the Gods…
and that gift you thought was lost is yours. You have everything, happiness has never been so
complete… for once, all to yourself… nothing in your way… and a promise of forever.”
The Queen Mother’s gaze grew distant and her hand fell away, the aging of her features more
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apparent than it had been before. “Until the world falls down again… secrets you can never tell
another soul…and when your head comes up above water again, love has turned its back. It isn’t
lost… it is still there… but it is like looking through a pane of glass. Still the promise of forever,
but a forever of half a soul… half a love… half of… happiness. You try to fill the gaps… but
nothing fits… and you know… somewhere deep down… that you have known ultimate joy…
but that time has passed. You are Elven… you will live forever… but what is eternity without
hope?”
“Add to that the loss of a Father much loved, a Cousin close to your heart… and the knowledge
your mother is dying.”
Emerald jewels focused on topaz, “How sane would you be? How strong the temptation to just
pass beyond the veil? How blessed the opportunity to forget… even for a moment.” Se’Liene’s
expression was one of profound sadness, her eyes glittering with tears. “She hates you for
seeing… she hates you for knowing… she hates you for resisting Samara in the end…and she
hates you… because you didn’t rescue her from Hell, Callan Blackthorn… you’ve brought her
back to it.”
Rising, she laid a hand on the top of Callan’s head and smiled ruefully down at him, then turned
without another word to make her way back up the steps and out of the pool.
As her small steps carried Se'Liene closer to the door, Callan's eyes slowly opened and cut in her
direction. Ignoring sodden skirts and the faint tracks of tears on her face, Callan eyes settled back
on the rippling surface of the steaming bath, then hauled himself out of the bath. With his scarred
and bondmarked back turned to her, a towel in his hands, Callan replied quietly, "Ah...but I DO
know how easily it would be to take that step, to forget who you are, to never feel love or regret
or compassion again."
Callan looked over his blood-marked shoulder at Se'Liene's back as he wrapped the towel around
his hips.
"That's exactly what I almost accepted...and barely refused."
Se’Liene paused in the doorway and cast Callan an amused look, “I know.” Her expression
softened, “My point is… you didn’t make the decision just for yourself, not this time. You have
either saved or damned yourself and my daughter… I won’t live to see the outcome… but I pray
it isn’t the second.” The soft click of the door closing announced her exit, leaving the Black
Dragon alone with his thoughts.
***
Vanyalin hurried ahead of Captain D’Brel and threw open the doors to the chambers given to
Ghetsuhm Alcarin. Moving aside the curtains around it, she pulled back the covers and stepped
back while the massive Captain settled the small redhead into the bed. “I have it from here
Captain, please summon one of the healers… this is a little beyond my capabilities.”
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D’Brel bowed slightly at the waist without speaking and took a step back before turning and
retracing his steps. Galain and An’Thaya’s youngest daughter bit her lip, then gently started
removing the tattered remains of Ghetsuhm’s shirt. Admittedly, she was more than a little
freaked out, and the Elf shuddered slightly as whatever was in her stepmother shifted beneath the
skin.
Ghet submitted to Vanya's gentle touch, though the slightest movement hurt her. But then, once
pain reached a certain level, there was no room for any more.
She knew too much. She knew from the way her body felt how much damage had been done to
her intestines, hell, her whole abdomen. Her body was poisoning itself now, no way to get rid of
its own waste. It was a god-awful way to die. At least the Wyrm seemed content for now to stay
in its warm soft nest and not work its way up into her ribs. She touched Vanya's hand gently. She
had to know. "Can you get it out?" she asked, her voice hardly more than a breath.
Vanya struggled valiantly to hide the fear in her eyes as she returned Ghet’s gaze and swallowed
hard, biting back bile. “I’ve sent for a healer,” she said gently, “this… is a little beyond me Ghet.
What… what is it anyway?”
"Sandwyrm..." Gods, how could she explain? Every breath hurt. She tapped her way cautiously
along the Web to Vanyalin. Do you mind? Talking hurts. It's a larval SandWyrm. It's eating me.
Gods... Vanya, even if I die, I want it out.
The young Elf went exceedingly pale and the world spun a little. I don’t mind at all… but, I think
maybe we should leave it up to the healers. I’ve never dealt with this type of thing before.
A movement at the door drew Vanya’s attention and she nearly collapsed with relief as she
turned to find her Doro Y’Roden standing there. His gaze was on Ghetsuhm, the expression on
his face like nothing Van had ever seen before.
“Doro Ro?”
“Dagar Vanya… you can go now, ok? I’ll help Ghet.” The words were spoken as the half-elf
approached the bed, his face pale as emerald jewels focused on the redhead’s abdomen, then slid
up to meet denim blues.
Ghet was lost, momentarily. She couldn't get up, which of course would be because of that baffle
plate, pinning her to the bulkhead while radiation ate through her flesh, opening up her abdomen
and consuming everything inside. In the distance there was a voice, and that was wrong, because
it wasn't the voice that had spoken through the long hours she'd spent, alone, slowly dying.
She hadn't died then, she remembered. Confused, she opened her eyes tiredly. Rodi? Her mind
swam, adrift in time and memory as she tried to find the present. What are you doing here? How
the hell did you know?" A warm hand brushed her forehead, and she turned as much as she could
to see her goddess beside her, in the guise of a nondescript S'Hean woman, but always obvious to
Ghet. She just nodded and let her head drop back. She didn't understand, but she didn't have the
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energy to work it out right now. You know, I think this is the first time I've ever been cold in
S'Hea. Don't lie to me, Rodi; I know it's bad.
Ro waited until Vanya was out of the room, the door shutting with a gentle click behind her, and
then reached down to run a gentle finger along Ghet’s jaw line, his mouth a hard line of pain. I
wouldn’t lie to you Ghettie… it’s bad… and taking it out hurts worse than putting it in. I… am…
so… sorry… Gods. I’d wait for Galain to get here, but there just isn’t time. You are going to
have to trust me… ok? We are going to make it through this.
He rubbed at his forehead with the heel of his hand for a moment, shot a look at Venus, then
wove the Aethyr, binding his ex-lover to the bed. She was weak, but pain and adrenaline could
have give even the dying inhuman strength, or send them into thrashing convulsions… and this
was precision work. Rolling up his sleeve, the half elf pulled his old dagger free of its brace on
his wrist. The same blade that Ghetsuhm herself had used to end his life so many years ago.
“Keep her calm?” he asked the Goddess, “this is… well, hurt… doesn’t do it justice.”
But Galain was here, wrestling out of the arms of his daughter as he shot toward the door.
"I need to be there. I have to be there," he was protesting, sickened with anxiety and grief. He'd
had to leave one wife for another and he was shrivelling inside. He slammed against the door,
feeling it give way. He went silent when he saw Ghetsuhm and sucked in his breath. Tay had
returned from the dead, Ghet was ready to join the dead.
***
Silverthorn leaned back against the tree to which she was chained and took slow deep breaths.
Calm, she told herself, all you need to do is stay calm. She could feel panic like a dark cloud at
the back of her mind, the old fear clutching at her chest and sending her heartbeat racing. To be
have her hands bound, to not be able to get free, was her one true nightmare.
"It's no use trying to break them,” she said in as controlled a voice as she could manage to Gre
who seemed curious about the metal chains that confined their movements. "They're made from
morirauta. Night metal. The same thing that makes the chains on the Badb Catha pendants. I
doubt even Mira could snap these."
Jade eyes shifted to rest on the four Ravens sitting by their campfire. It was rapidly getting dark
as the sun set on another day. The twilight cast eerie shadows through the trees. "What I'm
curious about is where they got so much of it from."
Gre looked up at Silverthorn, a wry, yet cheery smile on his face. "Well, it never hurts to try
M'Lady." He offered up, giving another experimental tug on his shackles.
S'araia looked up, perhaps the first she had since she realized they were being taken. Her voice
was quiet. "I suggest we ask when we get the chance..." There was a hint of deadly intent under
the seemingly innocuous tone. She'd played the quiet one when she'd sensed the Ravens coming
closer, letting them chain her without a fight. The passivity had come in handy on other
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occasions; she was hoping it would now, that they would underestimate her in some way.
Silverthorn nodded at the other woman. "Perhaps," she murmured, "either way I don't like it."
Her words halted abruptly as one of the Ravens approached. Seanait, she believed she had heard
the other woman called. She seemed competent enough in her own right, but she did not have the
personality to be the leader of the pack. Nor did the Earth Mage for that matter. Rhan, however,
she was dangerous. Her quick temper and fiery manner was evident even with such a short
acquaintance. The fourth, Bronagh, also bore watching, albeit for totally different reasons. In her
the S'Hean Queen saw the person she very easily could have become. A person she still
contained traces of. Cold, ruthless and utterly without mercy.
The Elven woman tossed small loaves of bread at their feet. "Supper, such as you will get
anyway. You're lucky to get that much. The Phantom Queen has no love for strangers roaming
her woods."
Gre frowned at the bread. Right, hands tied to tree, bread at feet, their hosts were so helpful.
“We’re not strangers, we’re sight seers. And I must say, I’ve rather enjoyed the sights, specially
the moving trees, those were quite a joy.”
Mira had remained oddly silent, her fingers tracing the edges of her bindings. No, she probably
couldn't snap these chains, and wouldn't waste her energy trying. Then, for a flicker of a
moment, as the wards in Nenlante were opened wide, relief and sanity was reflected on her face.
"They're back..." She breathed to Silverthorn in a tight sending, "Arianne...they're home..."
The wards must have slammed shut seconds later, but the brief rush of she and Bran's bond
restored was enough to bring the dragon-elf back to level thinking...sort of. Jade eyes flicked
down at the bread. "Oh aye...mighty helpful indeed. Lets hope they're this helpful when I kill
Linnis..."
The Madness might be fading... Mira's Rage however, was not.
Hope flared in Silverthorn's jade eyes as, just for an instant, she felt the connection to her eldest
son once more. "Fechine..." she breathed, closing her eyes as tears of gratitude welled up.
The dark-haired, dark-eyed figure of Rhan stalked forward to survey her captives with aggressive
dislike. "Tears? The nigh-on legendary Arianne Badb Catha held prisoner and all she can do is
cry? What a disappointment." She gave her a malicious smile, "I had expected more from you
somehow. Pity."
Her attention turned to the dragon-elf, "don't get too confident that you will live to see Linnis
D'Trel again, lady. Let alone kill her. She has the protection of the Goddess of this region,
something you cannot claim."
"Oh, you are entirely correct." Mira hissed at the Raven, "I claim nothing your goddess has to
offer. My father washed his hands of YOUR fickle mistress early in his youth." The dragon-elf
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spat the words out, there had been no love lost between the goddess of war and her sire when
Araxmarr had chosen to follow Brighid and Xraden, the original gods that had given their race
life. Nargus had called his young son a fool...but Brighid had not. He bore the Kiss...he and his
Blood were blessed. Jade eyes full of unspent Rage flicked down Rhan's body, "Linnis is an
oath-breaker, and goddess or no, the Morrigan cannot protect her from a child of Flame and
Chaos. Stand in my way," the cold words swirled out as though etched in ice, "and I will gladly
watch your blood water the ground before hers."
The dark-haired elf gave a sarcastic laugh. "You? You're nothing more than a crazed beast," she
spat out.
Rhan's dark eyes turned to meet Silverthorn's. Walking over towards her, she let a delicate finger
trail down the other woman's cheek. "There are many amongst us who would kill you. Some for
the glory, some for our Queen, others for the betrayal. If your eldest daughter is an oath-breaker
then she is only following in her mother's footsteps. Isn't that right, Arianne? Or didn't you want
them to know that as they are so keen on honour?" She gave a derisive snort. "But now that I see
you, I see you are not worthy of dying on any of our blades."
Her fiery gaze swung over the group, dismissing Gre'Yor and S'araia as of no real interest, before
settling once more on the Dragon Elf. "You, though. You might be. You would put up a fight,
wouldn't you?"
"Rhan, No!" Myrthrae rose to her feet. "You heard our orders."
"Oh yes, I heard our orders. Our mistress would not care one way or the other whether these died
now or later. The only certainty is their death. If we gave one a chance to die a honourable death
we'd be doing her a favour. It would be a quicker end than that the Phantom Queen has in mind."
"Oh...aye." Mira watched the Ravens shrewdly. "I would do more than put up a fight. I'd be the
one finishing it. But tell me...Rhan...that IS your name? What is in it for me once I kill you? IF
you are offering a challenge and not letting your tongue wag, I expect something offered the
victor. Otherwise, shut your mouth," The dragon-elf enunciated those three words, then shrugged
and allowed an incredibly bored expression to slide into place, "and I'll just be the good little
prisoner, and simply wait for you to bring me where I wish to be."
***
"I just want you," Tay murmured as Adarin started up the stairs, "I don't want servants... I just
want... quiet." Letting her head rest against her bondmate’s shoulder the Amazon went silent and
closed her eyes. The familiar scents and sounds of Nenlante wrapping her in a cocoon of safety.
Why did it have to be night? An’Thaya longed for the twin sunlight on her skin, to feel the heat
of Whispin burning away the bone chilling cold of Tenobrous.
More importantly… she wanted a bath… to wash away the stench of days without bathing, the
stain of her own blood that seemed to have left most of her body the same shade as her hair by
this point… and most importantly, to remove the overbearing scent of Callan Blackthorn’s blood
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and sweat.
"I can give you that -- myself and quiet," Adarin said quietly. He went quiet himself, letting his
feet and their escort lead the way as he focused on Tay's face. They were both filthy and tired,
but somehow the Amazon looked for worse for the wear. He was relieved when they arrived at
Tay's rooms, and the Elen king dismissed the guards with a weary wave of his hand, bowing his
head to them in thanks before he entered the rooms, the slight form in his arms hardly a burden
to the elf.
"We're here, love. Time to get rid of these ratty old clothes, slip into a warm bath and just let
things soak away," he murmured into her ear.
Tay nodded weakly and lifted her head, the scent of fresh water rousing her slightly from a mind
numbing stupor. Stiff fingers worked her wrist guards loose, letting them fall to the floor in a
clatter as she shifted, urging Adarin to set her down. With a grunt of frustration she drew a
dagger, simply slicing through the laces on her breastplate and letting it fall before tugging at the
short-cropped black shirt beneath. The material peeled away audibly, the fabric stiff and caked
with blood.
The room seemed to spin for a moment and she laid a hand on Adarin’s chest, leaning her head
against the King for a moment as a centre of gravity returned. “Sorry,” she muttered, pushing
away and falling into a chair, “Could you? My boots?”
Adarin couldn't help smiling.
"That's the way I like to see my Lady undress," he said softly and teasingly. "Just slice it all off."
He kissed her and then pulled one boot off, followed by the other. It took little effort and the
boots smacked against the wall behind him. He slid back up to Tay's side and kissed her.
"I love you An'Thaya," he said. "Just a moment more and you can feel like yourself again."
The Amazon managed a laugh and tilted her face up to be kissed, tracing Adarin’s jaw line with
small fingertips. “I love you too Adarin.” She searched the depths of his soft blue eyes for a
moment and smiled before looking away, moving to undo the laces of her trousers.
Frankly, Tay wasn’t sure she would ever feel like herself again. Too much had been taken…
wounded… marred. “Ok… how many steps from here to the pool? Maybe you should just try
tossing me in from here.”
The king was still disquieted. He was saying soothing words, but neither she nor he could quite
believe them. That worried him. She wasn't quite the same woman he knew before Tenobrous.
He still loved her though. All of her.
"Toss you?" Adarin was nonplussed for a moment and then he laughed. "Just a few steps and I'm
happy to carry you to there. THEN I'll drop you in."
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“Carry away,” Tay murmured, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck again. “You always
seem to be taking care of me… not very fair to you. I must seem a horrible klutz or something.”
"Oh no," Adarin said softly as he picked Tay up into his arms. "I live to take care of you. I live to
love you. And if you're a klutz, so much the better. More contact time." At that moment he made
as if to toss her in and then they were both in the pool together.
The Amazon let out a small squeal, then a startled laugh as she found herself safely in the water.
“Ooooh… soap,” she crooned happily, grabbing a bottle of the liquid stuff that smelled of
strawberry. I’ve died and gone to heaven. Hold this.” She held the bottle out to her bondmate,
submerged for a few moments, then popped back up. “Oh gods that feels good…”
The S’Hean side of her had clicked into full gear, revelling in the feel of water against her skin.
A sponge later there was soapsuds everywhere and a purring Amazon as she went for the
shampoo next, lathering up her masses of flaming hair. For the moment, Tay actually did feel
like her old self.
And the purring had Adarin smiling softly. He knew better, but he was taking the moment for all
it was worth. He undid his own clothing. They were beyond ruin now and he could care less.
Once free of them he stared at the pile of damaged and dirty clothing and then silently destroyed
them. He never wanted to see that particular bit of clothing again. He turned back to Tay and
held up another sponge.
"Rinse that glorious hair of yours and I'll get to your back then," he said.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Plunging below the surface the Amazon angled into the flow of
water that swept in and out of the tub, letting the suds float away towards the drain. The current
relaxed her, soothing sore, aching muscles and caressing her blade cut skin before buoying the
small woman back to the surface. Now that she was clean, at the front at least, the wounds she
had taken were more apparent. The slash to her cheek, the knife wound at her throat, and an
angry red mark on her solar plexus… all that remained of Samara’s attempt to take her life.
There were other scrapes, cuts and bruises lacing her tanned flesh, but the real wound, the
deepest one, was hidden within the Amazon’s soul.
Adarin, however, received a winning smile from his Amazon as she spun in the water and moved
her hair so the Elen King could wash her back.
He wasn't fooled, but he didn't comment. Instead Adarin applied himself to Tay's back, wincing
as he witnessed her wounds. He hadn't missed much.
"I love you," he said softly, not sure he could even begin to assuage her hurt.
Tay turned around in Adarin’s arms and laid her head on his chest, “Yona Elleska Dai mod,” she
murmured, relaxing against him and letting the water buoy her up. The comforting familiar scent
of him filled the Amazon’s senses… and before she knew it, the redhead had fallen asleep right
there.
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It took just moments to carry her out of the water, Adarin using his mage abilities to gently dry
her before he placed the exhausted woman into her bed. He crawled in beside her, smiling to
himself when she nuzzled up against him once more.
Perhaps sleep would bring some healing.
Chapter 12
Ghet would have laughed if she'd had the strength. Her eyes on Ro's acknowledged the absurdity
of this situation, the way they kept finding themselves in this place no matter how hard they tried
to pull the paths of their lives away. Oh sure, now you tie me down and promise me
unimaginable pain, when I'm too screwed to enjoy it.
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she saw Galain, and the look on his face.
"Galain!" She tried to move her head, couldn't, her eyes sought out her goddess. "Gods,
Galain..."
Venus nodded, then bent over and stroked Ghet's forehead. She relaxed slightly, endorphins
flooding her ravaged body. Then Venus looked at Galain, her face unusually solemn. "She wants
you to close the bond between you. She can't do it herself. But she doesn't want to hurt you."
Y’Roden gave Ghet one of those looks. Gods woman… don’t make me laugh, this is precision
work here. The direction of her gaze had the half-elf looking up… Gods, Galain looked like hell.
Ro winced slightly, he knew that look… that haunted, hellish expression that never quite went
away. “Come on in,” he murmured, “I’d do as she says… you don’t look like you can take much
more.”
Galain looked from Ghetsuhm, to Y'Roden and then to the woman who was looking at him. He
knew precisely who she was. He looked again at Ghetsuhm and then nodded imperceptibly. The
damnable thing was that he wanted to take all of Ghet's pain for her and he couldn't. He bowed
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his head, swaying a little when he closed the bond between himself and his wife. He was
disoriented and nearly went down in a heap right there before he willed himself to get it together
and looked back up.
"It's closed," he said in a wooden voice.
Ro sighed, then crossed the room and threw Galain’s arm around his shoulders, “Come on
bucko… she’ll want you close. Just stay still, ok?” Despite the fact that they were the same
height, the S’Hean was heavier built than the Elen, and it took very little effort to move Galain
from the door to the bed. “Is Thaya alright? Eh… never mind, I assume she is giving you are
here, not there. Careful! Don’t jostle… lay still.”
Whether it was truly sympathy for Galain, or just a moment's delay before he had to hurt Ghet…
again… it didn’t matter much. “Being very quiet would be a wise idea as well,” he muttered,
taking his place at the side of the bed again.
Galain was startled by Y'Roden's gesture. So startled he bit down on his answer regarding Tay.
She wasn't okay, but she was. He just... well. He settled as bidden, not daring to move or speak.
Ghet whimpered quietly as their bond closed and her pain circled back in on her. She could feel
Galain's physical presence, though, and that gave her enormous comfort - and courage, which
had been failing. She was terrified, and in a way that hurt worse than the pain. Though not worse
than she knew it was going to. She sought him out with her eyes, desperate and a little wild,
drinking the sight of him down. "I love you," she told him, her voice just a breath, "always."
Without taking her eyes from Galain, Venus stroking her forehead gently, she told Ro, Honey,
I'll make you laugh if it's the last thing I ever do. Let's do it. The tension is killing me.
Ro closed his eyes for a moment, breathing slow… wishing to the Gods that Ghet had never
gone to Tenobrous. He hadn’t removed one of these in several millennia, and generally… he
hadn’t been concerned about the comfort or survival of his ‘patient’. “Alright … here we go
Ghet, and if you don't stop that, it very well may be the last thing you do.”
The edge of the blade was lethally sharp, the incision itself relatively painless as the dagger slid
through flesh and muscle tissue over her lower abdomen, not unlike a Caesarean cut. The
purpose being, to avoid nicking the Wyrm itself… the less disturbance, the better for Ghet. Two
fingers slid into the bloody opening, raising the flesh slightly, carefully, his emerald eyes
focusing on the slight movement of the beast as it sensed the intrusion. He pursed his lips for a
moment, then whistled, a long, slow vibration of sound that played off the Elf’s second set of
vocal chords. A haunting sound with a compelling undertone… the song of the SandWyrm.
Ghet's breath hissed through her teeth; the knife, the scent of blood, Ro's touch... memories
intruded on the present and mixed so thoroughly she could no longer tell them apart. Venus'
touch pulled her away from that maze of pain, but there was still a horrible sense of wrongness.
The grub went still for a moment, then the skin of the redhead’s stomach rippled, a wave of
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movement as it answered the summons, working its way through intestine until finally its many
fanged mouth protruded through the opening Y’Roden had made and echoed the sound in a
lighter, more plaintive tone. With an expression of extreme distaste, Ro nonetheless coaxed the
beast out onto his blood soaked hand, keeping up the trilling melody the entire time.
The sense of movement inside her, the nauseating sucking feeling, dragged Ghet back to the here
and now. She fought her bonds then, involuntarily, and being Ghet she was comforted by the
way they held her. Secure, cradled, no decisions to make. She would not look, she couldn't.
The white Wyrm nuzzled against Y'Roden's flesh, singing back in apparent ecstasy, unaware of
its impending doom as the S’Hean King backed away from the bed, and neatly fried it within his
grip, balefire searing through its small body till nothing remained.
Without a word, the half-elf returned to Ghet’s side and lay his hands flat over her stomach. The
battle to save her life had just begun.
Galain's eyes just widened as he stared the entire time. He only shut his eyes once to remember
that his wife loved him - always. My gods.
Venus smiled quietly. There was a long road ahead of them still, repairing the damage that had
been done, but she knew that the worst of the horror was over for Ghet. "It's gone, fillia, it's
gone." Ghet muttered something incoherent, closer to passing out now that she was not fighting
so hard.
Pure emerald Aethyr leaked out from beneath Y’Roden’s fingers, warming and sinking down
through Ghetsuhm’s flesh. His brow furrowed as he fell back on his knowledge of anatomy,
gained both through the darkness, and years with Ghet at Riker's. It’s all right Ghet… you can go
to sleep now. I’ll do the rest.
It was slightly ironic that the agony that laced through him was a result of his own childhood
game. The half-elf dropped to his knees and groaned, though his hands never left Ghet, enduring
the mangling of his insides as his gift healed his ex-lover.
By the time it was finished, Ro’s body had broken out in a bright sheen of sweat, his face pale,
his hands bloodied and shaking. “She’ll be alright now,” he grated out to Venus, “she just needs
rest.”
Galain was already leaning closely over Ghetsuhm, satisfying his own anxiety by touching her
face with fluttering fingers. Then he looked at Y'Roden.
"Thank you," he said. He looked away, gazing at Ghetsuhm's face, smooth and untroubled as
unconsciousness claimed her. "Gods, love. The trouble we find ourselves in..." he said softly,
curling a tendril of her hair around one finger.
***
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Bran paced up and down the Hall. The fair-haired elf's temper simmered just below the surface,
setting sparks in his jade green eyes. Yet deeper still lurked the fear and concern that had ignited
that anger. Elemmiire? What had made Linnis take his daughter and nieces to that Gods
Bedamned place? The idea of Muirne and the twins being in such a danger twisted his gut. That
his wife and sister were also there trying to get the girls back did nothing to ease it. Part of him
wanted to run over there immediately and bring them all back. Yet how could he leave Caolan
now after all the boy he had been through? Torn, he continued to pace.
Ro wasn’t easy to shake; the half-elf was capable of a cold dispassion, of tearing apart a hapless
victim with no glimmer of a soul in his eyes. Not so these days, he wanted to know why his
world kept turning upside down… how he kept ending up with Ghetsuhm’s blood on his hands.
A familiar sense of self loathing mixed with unleashed rage and boiled his blood to the point that
his stained hands shook uncontrollably. He needed a bath… he needed silence… he needed to be
alone.
What he got was an eye-to-eye meeting with Bran Badb Catha as he rounded a corner. He had
thrown the punch before rational thought clicked in, muscles bunching in one arm before his fist
connected with the fair-haired Elf’s jaw. “What the hells is wrong with you Badb Catha,” he
bellowed, “that was my Mother you were screaming at out there, and a dying woman at that.”
Teeth clicked together, his head jerking back as the punch landed. A return blow was already
swinging around, a low growl rumbling in the elf's chest, before he had even had time to think.
The simmering anger flashed into full-blown rage, jade eyes becoming oddly faceted as the
dragon and the elf fought for dominance.
"What the hells is wrong with me?" Bran retorted, driving his elbow into his brother-in-law's gut,
"I could ask the same of you, don't you think? Your Mother was holding her own just fine."
Ro let out a grunt of surprise, Bran always looked so willowy, it was a shock when a well-landed
punch didn’t floor the fellow. Snarling the half-elf grabbed his brother-in-law’s arm and swung
him around, slamming them both back first into the wall and landing his bicep smack up against
the other male’s throat. “She shouldn’t have had to,” Ro hissed, “Is my point. Do you go to
funerals and yell at the widows? She has been taking care of Mira in your absence, helping her
through the madness, and what does she get in return?”
"Precisely what she deserved," the fair-haired elf snapped back. "Dying she may be, stupid she
isn't. That wasn't her decision to make and you damn well know it." Fingers that were more talon
than hand raked across the arm that crossed his throat, jade eyes becoming more draconic by the
second as pure Rage flooded the elf's system. The idea of the people he cared about in that sort
of danger sent adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Driving his elbow hard into the half-elf's abdomen, Bran tore himself free and spun around. A
clawed hand wrapped around Y'Roden's throat and slammed him up against the wall. "Dammit!
They were supposed to have been safe here. They were both supposed to have been safe here.
What the hell happened to that?"
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“What happened was your Gods Bedamned niece,” Ro spat out, “obviously insanity runs in the
family. As well as disrespect for people that are trying to help you. Considering your present
behaviour, I see where she gets it from.”
A booted foot shot between Bran’s feet, hooking around an ankle and yanking forwards. As Bran
shot back, Ro threw his weight forwards, throwing a punch that caught the other in the eye this
time, just before they both hit the floor with a bone jarring thud.
Pain exploded like fireworks inside the fair-haired elf's skull. A roar echoed off the walls.
Suddenly where there had been an elf there was now a Steel dragon, the sudden shift in shape
tossing the King of S'Hea several feet into the air.
Jaws snapped as the half-elf began his descent.
Ro’s eyes popped wide for a moment, this was possibly the most ridiculous situation he had ever
found himself in. Being eaten by one’s brother-in-law didn’t sound like the greatest way to go.
The Bastard Sword popped free of it’s harness, barely moving into position in time as Ro
jammed it length wise into the Steel’s gaping maw. He ended up cutting his own hand on the
blade and lost half his shirt in Bran’s teeth, but it was enough to bring him to a jarring halt and
go skidding over the Dragon’s muzzle, down its upraised forehead, and bouncing down between
it’s wings.
The Steel snarled, shaking its head as it sought to free the blade from its jaws. The point jabbed
painfully into its palate; it's own blood trickling down the side of its mouth. There was a loud
clatter as a tongue finally prised the weapon loose, as if it was a piece of food stuck between its
teeth, and it struck the far wall. Drool and blood clung messily to the hilt and blade.
“I hope you plan on cleaning that,” Ro observed from where he was wedged behind one steel
hued wing, “that is just… disgusting.” He paused, “are we done yet? I could really use a nap.”
"It's your sword. You can bloody well clean it" came the somewhat peeved reply. The dragon
form melted away to leave a fair-haired elf standing in the centre of the Hall probing the inside
of his mouth gently with one finger. "That really hurt, you know," he grumbled, in an admittedly
muffled voice.
“Eh,” Ro grunted from the floor, “it was either that or a case of extreme indigestion. I did you a
favour. I’m hardly good eating.” A glance down the hall revealed a group of rather startled
looking Guards, several with drawn bows aimed at Bran. “It’s alright,” the King waved them off,
“just a mild disagreement… we’ll be fine. You,” he pointed at one of them, “take that and clean
it.” He gestured towards the sword before rolling to his feet.
The guard swallowed and eyed the thing, but obediently went over and gingerly picked up the
blade. The S’Hean cast a dark look at the platinum haired elf… it was quite possible Bran was
going to have a few problems with the S’Hean Rangers in the near future.
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“Go get some sleep Badb Catha. We can both sure as hell use it. Look what you did to my shirt!”
Ro muttered indignantly as he tottered up the hall, “and I thought Thorn was hard on them…”
***
Anaya had taken the twin boys hands and started walking back to her room, if only to get them
away from the brawl on the airdock.
"You look tired Dera," Morgan said softly, looking up at her. "Have you been crying?"
The blonde smiled down at the young dragon-elf. How to explain all that had happened since
they had gone... "I'm a little tired, yes Morgan. And I have been crying. I'm worried about your
Doro Valin that’s all, like I'm sure your Mother has been worried about you." She turned to look
at Yarwin. "As soon as I can get hold of someone to open the wards, you can all speak to her."
The blonde spoke her last words solely to her brother in law Right now I don't have the
strength... we lost Calab. It was taking all her powers to shield her daughter from the intense
grief she was feeling...
Sombre for once in his life, Yarwin merely nodded at her quiet sending, "I'm sorry to hear that,
'Naya." He didn't say much more until they reached to doorway of the chambers he and the boys
were being to, then paused.
"How is Rachel? Outside of the obvious, which must be terrified?" He wanted to ask about their
unborn child...hell, he hadn't even had the consideration to ask Rach if they were having a boy or
a girl before he'd bolted off with the boys for Corin. But then? He'd thought he'd be back in a
matter of hours, not days or weeks.
"She's fine," She said, more to the boys than Yarwin, then shooed them off in the direction of the
bathing pool. The pair seemed to almost melt with joy at the sight of warm water and clothing
was shucked off before either of the adults knew what was going on, and the two boys divebombed the pool.
It was only then Anaya told Yarwin the truth. The last I heard from her, she was exhausted.
Kaelan and Helena were literally having to force her to sleep with mental conditioning and she
kept trying to leave, to come here, not that she could get through the Wards. There's something
strange going on with her Yarwin... She keeps ranting about seeing things. Anaya sighed, and in
that moment her own exhaustion and worry showed. I suppose I'm not much better, but seeing
those two lunatics, The blonde grinned slightly, I feel a little better. Gods Yarwin, this is... its
mad?!
Relief lit Yarwin's eyes for a moment as his sons dove into the bath and promptly began tossing
water at each other and gabbling about being warm again...and hungry. The relief vaporised
almost immediately though, "You've no idea what mad is, 'Naya. Sweet Mercy and Flame,"
Yarwin slumped down on the edge of the bed and began un-strapping the various leather
harnesses that had held the weapons loaned him by the S’Heans before departing.
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"Tenobrous is...gods. I had no idea. Cold. Its cold, its dark, with no day or night. Just this
endless, noxious green fog and shadows that eat carrion." Dirty silver armour slid away, leaving
Yarwin in a tattered, equally dirty lapis 'shirt' with various rips in the 'fabric' that would later
translate to missing scales in his Silver form or half-healed wounds on his bare half-Elven flesh.
Trembling fingers raked through hair that was caked in sweat, blood and dirt and tired eyes
closed for a moment as he asked quietly, "Oh gods...Rach. What...what sort...of things? 'Naya?
What is she seeing?"
Meanwhile, in the background, the twins were chattering animatedly about their rescue.
"Fire and Flame and Chaos. Anaya said dryly. "Yarwin, this is more than just dreams. It all
seems too real to her, and she said something to me about my daughter, a chestnut haired girl
with emerald eyes. She didn't even know I was pregnant!" She paused, sighing. "Something is
very, very wrong." Watching the boys playing around in the water was somehow soothing.
Yarwin's fingers slid from his grimy hair and the Shai'ay leaned forward slightly to rest his
elbow on his knee. Lapis eyes flicked from Anaya to the floor as his hand slid over his mouth
and pulled at his face. "Flame and Chaos..." he muttered absently. "I have no idea what this
means. Unless the Madness affected her too...but...that's just...unheard of. The Madness
occurring in mates of other blood." Yarwin felt this thoughts start to scatter...he should have
known the minute he sat down, he'd not be able to get back up. "I'll have to think about
this...maybe Callan knows why Flame and Chaos would be haunting her...but more than likely,
not."
Exhaustion was taking its toll. Finally, when he looked up, Yarwin suddenly did a double-take at
Anaya and despite his concern for his wife, grinned wickedly.
"You too? Well...that's just...well. Congratulations."
Slowly, Yarwin hauled himself to his feet; stiffness was setting in as overtaxed muscles began to
tighten. Fingers caked in all the grit and crud of Tenobrous began unfastening his trousers as his
shirt slid away. His sons were having too much fun and the hot water was all but whispering to
him.
Without so much as a by-your-leave to his sister-in-law, Yarwin stripped and waded into the
water...only to be smecked in the face with a thrown, soaked sponge full of lather.
Anaya simply raised an eyebrow at Yarwin as he stripped, and had to fight the giggles when the
boys threw a sponge at him. "Nice shot Taylon," She said softly, before leaving the men to their
baths. She'd have one later... when she knew her husband was safe.
***
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Raw fury boiled in Rhan's veins. Possessed of a quick and fiery temper, one feared by many of
her companions, the elf's dark eyes flamed as they clashed with Mira's. "Aye, I'll offer a
challenge" she hissed, "and the prize is your life."
Silverthorn lifted her head, her jade eyes hardening. Up until now the group had been conversing
in Common, albeit highly accented on the part of some of the Ravens. Now the S'Hean Queen
slipped into a tongue that was all but incomprehensible to those who were not fluent in Drow.
Whilst still bearing traces of the original Elven from which it evolved, the Tauremornan dialect
had been heavily influenced by the Dark Elves with whom they had inter-married over the
centuries and it now had more in common with the harsh clicks and sibilant whispers of the
Drow tongue than the musical nature of that of the High Elves of the other continent. "Lil streea
d' natha szithrel harventhen was outlawed" the dark-haired elf said coldly.
"It was reinstated not long after you left" Rhan replied in the same tongue, a malicious smile
curling her lips. "Why? Don't you think she's up to the challenge? Perhaps you would like to take
her place?"
The dark-haired elf looked over at her sister-in-law. She knew Mira to be a skilled warrior, but
this wasn't her culture and these weren't her people. Yet how could she volunteer to take her
place and knowingly endanger her unborn son? She was bound as securely by her promise to her
husband that she would look after him as she was by these chains to the tree. "She is up to the
challenge, should she choose to accept it, but that choice is hers and hers alone." Reverting to
Common, Silverthorn met Mira's gaze with a serious expression. "Lil streea d' natha szithrel
harventhen, the Death of a Thousand Cuts, is a not just a knife fight," she said to the Dragon Elf.
"Your left wrist will be chained to your opponent's left wrist, and you will be allowed only one
dagger each. Mira..." She paused, "it is always a fight to the death. Once the challenge has been
accepted nothing less than the lifeblood of one of the opponents will satisfy the Goddess to
which it is pledged."
"I understand what it is I have been challenged to, Arianne." Mira replied quietly and lifted her
head high as her already luminous eyes turned phosphorescent jade and shifted to Rhan. "You've
offered a challenge that to my people is considered Sha'tris Thy'sn...the Final Challenge. I pledge
my blood to the Flame, my soul to Chaos. Xal ussta vlos flamgra xuil Brighid's orthae chath ...
xal doss'tama sevir l' eairthin vel'klar ol rein barren." The words spoken were a mixture of the
Black tongue and pure Drow, two languages so close to one another in sound and inflection that
Mira Badb Catha had no doubts her formal acceptance had been fully understood by the Ravens.
The dragon-elf felt the Rage rolling through her blood and her eyes reflected it. This
arrogant...elf...dared suggest she wasn't up to a challenge such as this? Mira hadn't been raised to
be a pampered princess...she'd been raised to fill her father's shoes...not as heir apparent...but as
the assassin for her House.
Her next words sounded ritualistic and her voice had dropped to a near sensual sound as she
relaxed her control on the Rage and let the chemical overload fill her veins with black hate and
vicious desire. Chills swept over her as oxygen flooded her blood, then the telltale tremors as
adrenaline swamped her system.
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"Release me from this place, bind me to you, Raven...and let me teach you the delights of dying
under a 1,001 cuts.
"Done."
Silently the three other Ravens drew closer, unlocking the fetters that bound Mira to the tree.
Only by the quick glances they threw Rhan did they indicate any disquiet. They knew better than
to speak. Once the challenge had been invoked there was nothing they, or anyone, could do until
blood had been spilled.
Bronagh gripped the dragon-elf by the shoulder from behind and marched her forward into the
centre of the clearing. She brought with her a length of the same kind of chain that had bound the
dark-haired woman before. Without a word, she clasped the cuff around her left wrist.
As she went to hand Mira her dagger she hesitated. "Be certain of what you do, daughter of
Flame," the cold-eyed woman said. "There are two deities invoked this night, not one."
"You are wrong, Raven." Mira ground her head from side to side with a crackle of vertebrae...a
typical trait of her draconic blood. With every step, various items of Mira's armour slid away,
"There are three." She watched as the shackle snicked shut, "I do not forget the forces of
Chaos...for I assure you, he has not forgotten me." Mira now stood in a simple, snug fitting
black, sleeveless shirt and her leather trousers and boots. Smiling as she gave Enkara an
experimental spin in her fingers, the dragon-elf watched as light reflected off the gently curved
blade. Always the dagger had fit her hand; always it had warmed with her touch and the spirit of
Enkara. Always it had warned her when danger approached. Not so today. Today, the
Adamantine dagger remained a lifeless blade. Today, Mira Badb Catha was on her own.
A malevolent, snarl-like grin pulled one corner of the dragon-elf's mouth back. So be it. THIS
moment was the reason Drey had trained her with punishing brutality. THIS moment was why
she'd learned to rely on her own skills, not those of divine gifts or natural magic. Without another
word, the Child of Flame and Chaos forced the tension that gathered in her muscles to drift
away, leaving her body loose and relaxed. Eyes glittering bright in the darkness closed and her
head bowed as she struggled to bring the Rage to another level...to BattleRage. In seconds, she
re-lived the first lessons of fighting with a dagger.
A skilled-two legger can clear the distance of nine feet and have your heart cut out before you've
drawn your own blade...
Mira's head slowly lifted even as her body lowered to a half-crouch.
A dagger is not a weapon; it is an extension of the hand, an extension of the arm, of the body...of
the very core of your being.
The fingers of Mira's left hand curled around the chain that bound her to Rhan and glowing eyes
opened to hooded slits.
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Fight not only with this part of you, Mira Blackthorn...but with your very soul...or watch your
life's blood be spilled....
Wings the colour of polished onyx fanned lazily out, then furled tight against her back. With
only a muted growl of warning, Mira jerked the excess slack from the chain, her intention to set
Rhan's centre of balance off. A quick step into the Raven's path brought Mira within striking
distance and the softly illuminated blade of Enkara arced out, its mark the Raven's ribs beneath
the left arm that had just been snapped up and forward by the dragon-elf's hard tug.
Rhan was a skilled warrior and the dagger was her weapon of choice. Rather than resisting the
movement, she let herself go with it. At the last moment she dropped to one knee and felt Enkara
pass over her shoulder. Before Mira could recover she drove herself upward, her left elbow
slamming into the dragon-elf's abdomen as the hilt of her dagger hit her on the jaw from below.
The blade whipped around, slicing across the jade-eyed woman's unprotected shoulder.
***
Once, during his quiet trek through the trees, Remmy had accidentally set off his necklace and
fallen straight through the branch he was standing on. He was thankful for light gravity and fast
reflexes at the moment, but silently cursing as he watched the tableau below him on the ground.
His Queen, at least, was tied directly to the tree, which made his job a little easier… as did the
distraction of the fight. Never the less, he was taking a huge risk.
Creeping through the canopy, he positioned himself above Silverthorn’s head and prayed to
Arminiea for a bit of luck as he crouched down, hooked his knees on the branch, and flipped
forwards. Swinging a bit, lock pick clamped between his teeth, he winked at the dark haired elf
and reached for the manacles. Speed was of the essence… the Raven’s might turn to look at any
moment… and…well; all the blood was rushing to his head.
The S'Hean Queen froze, then relaxed as she recognised the elf. She gave Remmy a slight nod,
but her attention remained fixed on the duel being fought in the centre of the clearing. Please
Gods; let Mira live through this, she thought to herself, silently praying.
***
Despite sheer exhaustion, An’Thaya couldn’t sleep. Her heart and soul ached, for so many
reasons, and each time she drifted off nightmares and memories plagued her mind. Slipping out
of the bed, she left Adarin sleeping peacefully, and wandered into the outer chambers.
Alabaster and Rose… once a comfort, this room, and its twin in Corin had always settled her
mind and heart, filled her senses with Galain and the wonder and joy she had felt when she had
finally given in to her heart. It seemed an eternity ago… and perhaps it was.
Now, the colours and the chamber itself only disturbed her further and wrenched her soul with
guilt. Her relationship with Adarin was hurting both her husband and his Uncle. Gods… what
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was the matter with her? Why couldn’t she be content with just Galain? Even if he had taken
another wife… he still loved her as much as ever. Was she that selfish… that filled with
jealousy? And why, in the name of the Gods, had her heart chosen Adarin?
Slipping out into the corridors she padded barefoot down the hall and onto the staircase, moving
through the palace like a vibrant ghost.
Tenobrous had left its mark on her, and she could feel the beginnings of her soul starting to
shred… something she refused to share with her husband or bondmate. What was there to say?
There was time… more time than she cared to think about really. It would be slow… and the
pain would ebb, hardly noticeable most of the time. Tenobrous should have been her tomb…
instead, she would draw out her days amongst loved ones… and she had saved the life of a man
she hated.
The thought brought a crimson flush to An’Thaya’s face and she was grateful for the cool breeze
as she stepped out into the gardens. A vast ocean of greenery beneath the heavy moons… as
close to the jungle as Tay was going to get right now. Turning her face up to the stars, she let the
wind caress her body, whipping the thin white shift about her form, and walked further away
from the marble archway she had paused in.
Why couldn’t the memory be lost? That utterly terrifying moment when she had been pinned
between Callan and the Wards… between life and death… wanting both… and… Gods help
her… wanting him. For that brief moment, she had seen something in the Dragon Emperor she
wanted to forget. But even more, Tay wanted to banish her own reaction to his desires… the part
of her that had burned with sudden passion, wanting him to do exactly what he was envisioning.
To break her, take her and rip her to shreds, only to heal and do it again. The memory of his hard
frame crushing her against the invisible wall was all to clear…
“Stop it,” she muttered aloud, “Just stop…”
You know… there is a name for people that talk to themselves…
“Shut up Agaru.” The Amazon snapped, He is your mate; this is all your bloody fault. If it
hadn’t been for you, he would have left me there… like he should have.
The Crimson snorted, then went silent, apparently not willing to share her opinion on the matter.
Fine… I have more important things to worry about than Callan Blackthorn, Tay muttered to her
other self.
Self-loathing, self disgust… what other designations could Tay give what she was feeling?
Sick Bastard…
Gods… Callan was right; at least he fully admitted what he was.
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What was she? That was part of the problem… she had no idea. What was Agaru? Another
unanswered question in a never-ending barrage of them. Perhaps she had never been clear on her
identity… was she Tay? Was she An’Thaya? Amazon or Princess? Wife? Lover? Mother?
Daughter?
Daughter…
Her footsteps took a slight detour.
Cousin…
She could no longer be called that…
“Fette.” A word that had carried so much happiness when first she had heard it. Fette B’Rodyn,
the first of her own kind she had ever laid eyes on. Now she looked upon him once more, the
moonlight reflecting off his crystal casket. Such a beautiful Elf… the epitome of a S’Hean male,
he had been a good and just King.
The last time she had seen him… they had both been drunk, and wrestling in the Armoury. It was
a ritual they had… whenever she came to visit, Tay had brought a new sword, forged by her own
hand for the King of S’Hea. They would promptly get soused and give the new weapon a whirl.
“Gods B’Ro… I am going to miss you so much…” He had been one of the few she could openly
talk too… B’Rodyn D’Riel had taken the secrets of his Cousin to the grave. “I didn’t even get a
chance to say goodbye…”
Daughter…
A child should never see their parent slain right before their eyes…
Tay stumbled as she neared her Father’s casket, dropping to her knees beside the emerald hued
box and laying her cheek against its cool surface. The Amazon had called two men Father in her
lifetime. Tager Terne, the man that had raised her, and Derwin Modar D’Riel… the man that had
given her life.
“Daddy… what am I going to do without you?”
Tallin Modar had murdered her Father… right in front of her eyes. And now… she would have
to watch her Ammah die as well… slowly, but just the same, murdered by the same hand that
had taken her Father.
Now she remembered why it had been so important to her to save Callan’s life… he had tried to
save her Father’s… and in the end, he had respectfully borne Derwin’s body to Nenlante.
“Alright,” she muttered, “alright Chezlar Khor… I get your point. There is good in the Black
Hearted Bastard. Are you happy now? Fine… fine… but I don’t have to like him… not after…
gods… never mind. Leave me alone… let me grieve in peace.”
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For a moment, Tay could have sworn she felt the heat of large fingers on her shoulder… and
then the sensation was gone.
Left to herself, the redhead blindly crawled up onto the lid of Derwin’s coffin. Curling up in a
ball Tay lay her head over the King’s silent heart, her hair… so much like his, fanned out across
the crystal surface. Small fingertips touched where she could see his face before crimson lashes
fluttered down over emerald jewels, and the Amazon gave in to wracking sobs.
After a time, she simply shut down from exhaustion, falling asleep where she lay, finding a
blessedly peaceful rest undisturbed by nightmare, memory… or dream.
Silence had eventually filled the halls of Windemiire and one Black Dragon Emperor sat on the
edge of a bed made by Elven hands. Fingers that were cracked and chapped by the cold damp of
Tenobrous, but clean at long last, traced the blood groove of the Claymore that lay across his
thighs. In the other hand was an oilcloth...the Claymore had needed a cleaning far worse than
Callan. Almost absently, he let the cloth drop to the floor as he gripped the hilt.
Topaz eyes followed the length of the weapon as he lifted it before him with both hands. This
blade had walked a long road with him, first as the weapon of a young dragon, barely in his
twenties by human standards and on one of his first...jobs...then down the path of the Black
assassin he had become, then lastly, into the Madness tinged maelstrom of vengeance that had
consumed him until he'd met Task. This blade had lain in the Keep when he'd left to 'play' with
Kyra and her offspring, and it had been there when he'd returned, freed from a hell of his own
making he had been bound to by Enkara until the love of a half-Elven woman could free him.
He remembered the day it had come to him...he'd been toying with a mark in a palace much like
Windemiire. He'd been pretending to be a Knight, a Human, not Elf...his target no less than the
Queen herself, the true ruler behind the throne, the true power of the land. Her husband had been
an idiot, a patriarchal moron without enough sense to piss on his own boots had they caught fire.
The idea had been to lead her merrily down the agonizingly delightful road of lust, gloriously
illicit sexual acts, then deep into public shame...and eventually kill her slowly, far away from the
castle proper...and take one other item of power from the fool King...his blade.
It had come to him instead...with no bloodshed and an order to turn around...and simply walk
away.
"It is a Blade of Justice...but the powers of Chaos give it to you. Walk away and do not return
and it will remain by your side. It will never grow dull, it will never fail you and in time, shall
sing when the Knight moves to save the King...and fails, for the love of the Queen..." The man's
eyes had been little more than holes in the midnight sky and his presence had kindled something
in Araxmarr that his father had forgotten.
Absolute awe and faith in Chaos himself.
Araxmarr had returned a very different creature than when he'd left. No longer did he place faith
in the Morrigan, the goddess of war or the God of Destruction. He was a child of Chaos and
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eventually, had become a child of the Flame as well...as his kind were meant to be.
And all these long millennia, he'd thought Xraden had been referring somehow to the mark he'd
walked away from. Tallin's words, "And sometimes, the Knight fails the King...for the love of the
Queen," echoed through his head as he gave the blade a last reverent look, then sheathed it and
lay it across a large trunk at the foot of the bed. He'd failed Derwin D'Riel in so many ways...but
he'd at least brought his daughter back...and whether it was FROM Hell, or to it, she was no
longer his responsibility.
Clad only in a pair of black cotton, drawstring trousers he'd altered from the S’Hean garments
he'd been given, Callan Blackthorn stepped out onto the balcony, drained yet another bottle of
Elven-made liquor and in one smooth motion, was standing balanced on the stone guardrail,
hundreds of yards from the ground...if there WAS ground at the foundations of Windemiire.
Midnight wings spread wide into the warm air and the soft moonlight of Whispin's twin moons
streaming across his skin. Eyelids drifted shut as he spread his arms wide, enjoying the warm
breeze that seemed ever present here.
"You're losing sight of the Horizon, Vershan..."
A single jade strand left in the inky black, brilliant silver and now, blood-red crimson of the
tapestry of his soul shifted; the ring of autumn leaves around his bicep itched and seemed to
constrict, a ghostly reminder of her physical touch.
"Let me go, Callan...you have found another..."
The words of a ghost, a phantom of the woman who'd loved him...Task...haunted his thoughts as
he swayed dangerously on his perch.
"And to what end? Agaru is mine, but subject to her...we're bonded and have lain together no
more than twice. I am almost as alone now as I ever was." The words were all but spat out as his
eyes rolled open and the jade in his awareness seemed to fade marginally.
"She is there...a part of me, yet the Amazon stands between us...and there's not a GODS
DAMNED THING I can do about it!"
Callan's voice echoed into the night and in anger, he punched a fist at thin air as he shouted the
frustration-laced words.
Then quietly, more tenderly, "I can't...I can't let go...you are my conscience...my strength..."
No... not anymore... despite what you may think... you are losing the Horizon.
Let me go...
It was no more than a whisper in the night air, a half-pleading request he could not grant...what
would he become without that Elven green that helped him define who he SHOULD be, rather
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than who he wanted to be?
He should have taken Samara's offer...given up the battle, the internal warfare on his own desires
and Black nature and simply...fallen. Fallen from the grace of his gods, fallen from his role as
dictator and protector. He should have given into the roiling hate within.
But he had not...
Sick bastard...
Aye...that he was. He always would be.
A flicker of warmth, a trace of body heat glimmered in his peripheral vision and for a moment,
Task was forgotten as An'Thaya's telltale thermal signature appeared far below him. White
stained her cheeks and faded to blue, then yellow and shades of orange. From the pattern, she
had been crying...or was embarrassed; heat flushed her face, her chest and other vital areas. As
she lingered, Callan sank slowly to a crouch, watching her, hating her, wanting her...and hating
himself all the more for it.
Growling softly as she vanished, Callan leapt to the floor of the balcony, started to go back
inside, drink more, climb into bed, and resolve to shove the dark thoughts back in their closet,
live tomorrow as though Samara had never made her offer, as though tonight had never
happened...and yet the truth remained, even as the jade of Task Diamondwood once again settled
and lay still, a prisoner of Callan's dependency on her for balance....
You are losing the Horizon...
A slow shake of his head later, Callan turned from the entrance, looked eastward longingly, then
lay down on the balcony; his only cover against the night a raven black wing. He missed the
sunrise over the Diirlathe and despite his raging emotions, forced himself to drift off to sleep,
however broken and shallow. The sooner he slept, the sooner it would seem the dual sunrise of
Whispin would kiss his skin...and the sooner he could leave Nenlante for Corin. Surely he could
be of some help to Y'Roden there.
His last thoughts before sleep claimed him were that somewhere, he was certain, Samara Mirage
was laughing, wildly entertained as he wallowed in his private hell.
***
Mira was only dully aware of the pain that accompanied the blow to her abdomen and the slice
across her shoulder. Rage was both a blessing and curse to those of her kind. Pain was dulled,
senses heightened...and clear thought lost if the Rage was not controlled...
You are thinking too much...
Drey's booming baritone cut through the murk of her thoughts in the lightning fast moment when
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the Raven's dagger drew first blood.
This is your birthright, your true nature Mira Blackthorn!
Drey had shouted it in her face, deliberately provoking her driving her to kill, not...mess
around...as he'd put it.
EnRaged, nearly winded and half-blinded from the stars that spangled her vision, Mira pivoted
on the heel of her left foot, let the momentum carry her around. Enkara cut a scarlet line
diagonally across Rhan's cheek as Mira's right knee came up into Rhan's hip, a blow meant to
shatter the socket, or at the very least cause bone depth pain.
The Raven turned, taking the blow on her buttock and letting the force carry her forward with the
chain wrapped taut across her body. The momentum carried the dragon-elf hard into her back
and for a second she was winded.
Forcing down the ache in her body, barely aware of the sting of the cut on her cheek, Rhan drove
her dagger down and backwards into Mira's thigh.
The first manacle on Silverthorn’s wrist gave way with a light snick and Remmy set to work on
the second one, releasing her in short order. With a short nod the Elf swung himself back up onto
the branch over Thorn’s head and move to a spot over Gre, swinging down to repeat the process
on his fellow S’Hean.
Mira hissed as she felt the sharp pain slice through her thigh, then was blessedly dulled by a
fresh surge of adrenaline. One black wing was twisted beneath the Raven and was sending
screaming pain through the fine network of sensitive nerves there... while the other slammed
downward, the razor sharp claw penetrating her manacled wrist and pinning it to the forest floor.
The dragon-elf could have ended it all then, could have cut Rhan's throat...but something within
her had been kindled to life. Ebony night engulfed her soul, eclipsed the strands of silver and
jade, threatened to overwhelm even the greens and steel of Brandubh Badb Catha within her.
With a snarling grunt of a cry, Mira wrenched herself free, jerked her wing from beneath Rhan
and felt the Ravens' dagger grind sickeningly on bone before coming free.
"Get up..." She growled and yanked the her claw free of the woman's flesh, hooked the chain
with the blood stained claw and began hauling Rhan to her feet. "Get...up...I promised you 1001
cuts...you've only got two."
"So have you," the Raven bit out. Pain from her damaged wrist added an edge to her tone, the
blood running down her skin and making the manacle slide around on the slick surface. Her dark
eyes blazed with barely controlled fury as she launched herself towards the dragon-elf, using the
jerk of the chain to propel her forwards with startling suddenness.
The S'Hean Queen slid silently around the tree, working her way towards S'araia. In her hand she
held a small stiletto blade their captors had not spotted when they disarmed her. Without a word,
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she knelt before the Captain of the Ingraleis Guard, the tip of the dagger slipping into the lock of
the manacles.
"Bronagh! They're getting away!" Seanait's voice carried clearly.
Silverthorn swore softly, working to get the lock unfastened. A sense of movement behind her
had her spinning around, ducking just in time as an arrow buried itself in the tree beside S'araia's
head.
S'araia cursed and eyed the arrow; rather glad it hadn't been one of her own archers. She shook
her wrists as the lock came unfastened and the manacles fell to the ground. She glanced at
Silverthorn with a slight grin. The Ravens hadn't found her pocket portal after all... She reached
into it and pulled out a handful of daggers. "Need some extras?"
"I'm always open for extras" the S'Hean Queen replied, taking a blade, "although I have every
intention of retrieving some of my own if I can." The dagger glinted as she dropped to one knee
and thrust it up towards the abdomen of an attacking Raven.
Myrthrae cursed and jumped back abruptly. "Seanait! Stop the other two" she called out.
"On it" the archer said, drawing back her bow and taking aim at Gre and Remmy.
Remmy had a pleased expression on his face as the second snick released Gre’s shackles, but the
look quickly shifted as the S’Hean’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Exchanging an upside
down look with his fellow Elf he grabbed him by the wrists, “Arrow! Pointy! Up! Up! Up!” He
started swinging and hoped to hell Gre had translated that bit of gibberish.
“Dagar, Remmy, what took you so long?” Gre was a bit too jovial with his greeting considering
the situation. He blinked at Remmy, rubbing his wrist as he did so. Everyone knew that Remmy
was prone to oddness but with the type of father he had, could anyone really blame him? He
pondered that for a moment as the words began to sink in. Arrow? Pointy? His hazel green eyes
widened and his head swung around to stare straight at the point of a closely approaching
projectile.
“JARAN‘S CRYSTAL BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLS!” he hollered as he scrambled to
his feet launching upwards towards the branches, “UP! UP! UP! UP!” The simple word seemed
to become some sort of magical chant that goosed him into a higher speed just as the arrow
thunked into the tree where his groin had been not two seconds ago. Gre turned wide eyes to his
fellow S’Hean and swallowed, “That was close…” even the mere thought made his voice go up
an octave.
Sahar stepped out of the darkness behind Seanait and tapped the archer on the shoulder with the
tip of her sword, clicking her tongue and shaking her head as she did so. “Tsk, tsk, where is the
sport in that?” The shadow being paused, sliding the edge of her shamshir closer to the Raven’s
neck. “I thought one with the title of Raven would be better suited at being aware of their
surroundings. I see you still have much to learn…Now do be a good little bird and drop the
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bow.”
"Aye," the dragon-elf conceded, "So it seems." The raven-haired Mira leapt back, sucking in her
abdomen and shifting her weight to the right, narrowly avoiding a full strike. As it were, the
dagger sliced across her ribs, opening a bloody gash that soaked her shirt in a growing stain of a
darker shade of black on black.
"Shall we start counting all over again then?" Mira's jade eyes remained on Rhan during the
confusion; one misstep and she'd be dead. Her tunnel vision widened slightly at the sound of a
second bow creaking...yet another Raven was sighting her arrow on the fleeing pair of elves in
the trees with cold precision despite her counterpart being apprehended. Well, that wasn't hardly
fair, the Raven's using their bows in what was turning out to be one huge knife fight. A hard snap
of the dragon-elf's wrist sent her single dagger sailing to land in the Raven's back before the
arrow could be fully trained on its target.
Myrthrae fell to the ground with an almost silent sigh, the bow she had picked up falling to the
earth. The sound of metal on metal echoed around the clearing as Bronagh's blade struck
S'araia's. The Raven's cold eyes moved constantly, ever aware of the changing situation around
her. Desperation added a new edge to her skill as she realized they were now outnumbered.
Another bow hit the ground as Seanait let the weapon fall. "The important thing is to win, not
how the victory is achieved" she bit out, not turning around to look at the shadow being. The tip
of the shamshir was cold against her skin.
Dark eyes glowed with fire as Rhan dropped into a low crouch, dagger held steady. "Oh, I think
our counting is going just fine" she said in a soft purr, waiting for another opportunity to strike.
Remmy’s back was flat against the trunk of the tree by this point, and he nodded mutely to Gre.
He would, of course, tease the hell out of him for the octave change at a later date. Pale green
eyes flickered over the action in the clearing below, making sure the way was clear before
dropping back down onto the ground. Lithe fingers plucked Gre’s shackles from the ground and
the thief flashed a grin up at the Ranger before hightailing it across the clearing.
“Need a hand?” he asked Sahar, “they seem rather fond of these… they’d probably look
smashing in them.”
“Wrong answer. The important thing is not to lose your head. I will not kill an unarmed
opponent,” Sahar lowered her sword, but not by much, she was honourable, but not stupid.
The shadow being looked up, flashing a grin at Remmy, "Oh, I quite agree."
Rich, wild laughter filled the clearing, a sound at odds with the small battle going on. Mira's
fingers splayed wide, showing her unarmed. "Aye...and that's three for you...two for me. We've a
long way to go, Raven to get to a thousand. I suggest you hurry..."
A sudden thrust of Bronagh's sword sent S'araia's blade spinning into the undergrowth. Her grey323
green eyes met her opponent's for a brief instance, and then flicked over towards Seanait. Her
fellow Raven was captive, struggling furiously with the S'Hean thief as he clasped cuffs around
her wrists. Coldly and without mercy her decision was made. Her colleagues may be captured,
but she, Bronagh Maol Chathaigh, would not be. The Phantom Queen needed to be informed and
that is what she would do. Without another word the chestnut-haired elf disappeared into the
forest.
"Let her go," Silverthorn called to the Captain of the Ingraleis Guard, "she isn't our priority."
Jade eyes shifted towards her sister-in-law in time to see Rhan lunge towards the dragon-elf's
exposed chest with every intention of plunging a dagger straight into her heart.
Mira watched Rhan's strike as though she stood outside herself. Time slowed to a seemingly
fluid moment as Rhan's dagger plunged deep into her chest. The fire of agony couldn't be
quenched even by the surge of chemicals in Mira's body and the dragon-elf let out a grating howl
of pain that slowly trickled into ragged breathing as she doubled over in pain. The Raven's
dagger was buried to the hilt in her flesh...yet the dragon-elf remained standing. Blood slowly
began to seep out around the blade and dribble down her shirt to join the still spreading stains
from her earlier wounds.
"Wrong..." her voice was low, raspy as the pain coursed through her and she slowly straightened.
"Side...Raven." Trembling, bloody fingers wrapped around the hilt of Rhan's dagger and began
pulling it slowly free with a slicing, sucking sound, then dropped it to the forest floor the second
the tip was free of her body.
The petite dark-haired woman's eyes widened for a second as she took an instinctive step back.
"What are you?" Her voice held a note of disgust, and something close to fear.
"I," An almost hook shaped, dark silver, near-black blade ominously slipped from beneath the
back of Mira's right wrist, its edge sharper than any steel, its point keen and wickedly pointed.
"Am a Child of Chaos," the dragon-elf lunged forward and slammed the blade into the soft flesh
of Rhan's lower abdomen and grabbed her jaws with her shackled hand, forcing her to look in
Mira's eyes.
"I am a Child of Flame...of the Storm...." The blade was slowly tugged upwards and Rhan's skin
and clothes made something of an...unzipping...sound, "I am an assassin of my House...the
Daughter of the Black Dragon Emperor..."
The Illinsaad beneath Mira's skin at her chest began to glow in shades of gold and silver, vivid
slashes of lavender and pale blue that carved through the threads of her black shirt in blinding
flashes. The souls within parted from where they'd been crowded to watch the fate of their
Master and Healer.
Now, they prepared to welcome a new thread...
"I am your eternity..." The final words Rhan would ever hear in this life were a whispered kiss
along her ear as the dragon-elf jerked the Raven to her in a macabre embrace. The amulet's
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colours exploded in a hideous flash of Technicolor lights as the final inch of Rhan's torso was
split open and the dragon-scale blade retracted beneath Mira's flesh with a mere stain of the
Raven's life's blood on the back of her wrist. A shrieking howl filled the clearing and for a
moment, the pair were lost from sight within a cyclone of lightning, flame and wind. Raven hair
swirled with the ebony locks of Rhan...the power of the Morrigen...the Goddess of War...fought
to keep her Raven's soul intact...
And lost.
Mira was not only a Healer of Souls, but at will, she could become a SoulRender. The thread the
Illinsaad sought to claim began to unravel faster and faster from the fabric of Rhan's essence,
then one last sucking howl arose from the Illinsaad and the colours seemed to writhe, flow back
from where they had came. As the storm abated, Rhan's body crumpled to the ground, gutted like
an animal and as lifeless as a rag doll.
Mira's eyes were closed, her body visibly shaking...and when her glowing jade eyes opened, for
a second, no more, they reflected Rhan's feral gaze peering out.
Silverthorn's hand tightened around her dagger as, furious, Nuuruhuine's presence swirled around
the clearing like a storm. Clouds gathered overhead, lightning crashing. The hairs on the back of
the dark-haired elf's neck rose as within the crashing thunder she heard an eerie howl.
"Hell! She's released the Sluagh" the S'Hean Queen exclaimed, "We have to get out of here.
Now! Mira, come on!" The Wild Hunt was a portent of death amongst the peoples of the
Tauremorna, the black riders as inhuman as the hellhounds that accompanied them.
S'araia looked up and almost grinned. "This is just like home in the old days!" Ok, so she
sometimes missed the battles and the intrigue... It was all she'd known for most of her life. The
last century had only been a small portion of peace and she still wasn't quite used to it...
“The what?” Remmy hollered, shoving the Raven to the ground and stepping on her back.
Whatever it was… it didn’t sound good… and Mira was still chained to a dead woman.
Without thinking the thief produced a lock pick and, quite ignoring the flashing clash of
energies, grabbed hold of the Dragon-Elf’s wrist. “Bloody hells woman! Stay still!” Wide cat-slit
eyes flickered from the lock to the forest and back again, the S’Hean fairly bouncing with
tension as he struggled to free Mira before Hell came knocking.
"Here...I think I can help you with that..." Mira's voice had a dual-toned quality to it as Rhan's
very essence was being assimilated into the dragon-elf's awareness. A faint snick could be heard,
and the shackle fell away and landed on Rhan's rapidly cooling body with a wet jangle of the
metal chains hitting her corpse. "Transmutation..." a slow smile curved one corner of Mira's lips
as she watched the S'Hean thief all but dance in place. "I could have left anytime I wished...these
are not DragonSteele."
The enRaged glow behind Mira's eyes flickered and snuffed, only to be replaced with a gleam of
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amusement and the dark-skinned dragon-elf grabbed Remmy by the ears, planted a sisterly type
kiss on the top of the young elf's head, then stepped away suddenly. Beneath her shirt, wounds
began to heal, the bleeding stopped and Mira knelt next to a fallen archer and took the bow she'd
been carrying, then the quiver.
"These..." She muttered as she removed the weapons, "Belong to me..." Her fingers curved up
the length of the ironwood bow, the Raven's had taken every weapon they'd had when they'd
been surrounded and chained. A quick search as she strapped on her various harnesses that were
made to buckle around her wings turned up her grandfather's blade, its sheath, and lastly, Enkara.
That sheath seemed to be hopelessly lost...and that bothered Mira. Callan had made that himself,
tooled the leather by hand...it was the opposite, feminine force to the dagger, a thing that gave
balance to the blade. In its place, she took Rhan's, then straightened as a foul wind blew through
the clearing.
"All right. Now we go." Inwardly, the dragon-elf poked at the new thread within the amulet, and
nodded slowly as it bucked and roiled.
"And once we're in a safe-haven, we find out exactly where our daughters are."
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Chapter 13
It was still dark when Valin slipped out of bed and dressed in the pale light of the dual moons.
He hadn’t slept at all since his Father’s late night message had startled him awake, a cross
between excitement and nerves leaving him staring at the ceiling. There was a certain security to
knowing Fadil and Reece would be right there for council, but at the same time… all the
responsibility fell on his young shoulders. Valin wasn’t sure he was ready for it, in fact, he was
pretty positive he wasn’t. But then… what was it Addah had said to him once?
“The greatest, most effective leaders are the ones that don’t really think of themselves that way
Valin. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. People fair better being led by those who don’t crave
it, who doubt their own right to it. It is when you stop questioning your own abilities and
decisions that you run the risk of crossing that line… of becoming a tyrant or dictator rather
than a benevolent King.”
The words replayed in the Elf’s mind as he crossed the hall and knocked on the door to the room
shared by the twins.
“Come in.” It was a muzzy Cully that called out in response; his sea green eyes still hazed with
sleep as he sat up and stared at the door.
He'd not slept much and the interference... as he judged it... was a lot.
"What?!" Glory exclaimed as he sat upward suddenly.
Valin poked his head in the door and eyed the Alcarin brothers with a raised eyebrow.
“Morning… I have a message from my Addah. Glory, you’ll be taking his place and entering
Corin with us. He had something to do in Nenlante, though he wouldn’t tell me what.”
“Something to do?” Cully asked crankily, “What could be more important than getting Corin
back?”
“Like I’d know,” Valin shrugged, “It must have been pretty monumental to drag him off like that
though. Besides… he is our King, I’m not about to question him. Come on, its time to get ready.
I’ll meet the two of you in the taproom.”
Mel was already in the taproom, something about the whole situation had her uneasy. The wards
blocked a lot of her connection to Amilyn, but not all... and Ami was worried, very, very
worried. Something about Callan and 'Thaya fighting, but it was a different kind of fighting...
Mel shrugged and took a long drink of water, having spent most of the night clearing all of the
whiskey out of her system. She knew she needed all of her abilities today, including a clear head.
Glory was still groggy and stunned by Valin's news when he hit the taproom with his brother. He
was replacing his uncle? In the recovery of Corin? His stomach kept dropping and twisting.
"Coffee... black," he ordered, not entirely sure that was the smartest thing to drink right now.
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Valin was just taking a seat next to Mel, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he slid into the
chair. “Just Mai’Tus juice for me Darec, D’Anke. Mak up yet?” he asked the twins.
Cully shrugged sleepily and ran his fingers through titian hued hair. “Not a clue. I can go back up
and get him though.” Turning around on the spot he smacked into Reece’s chest, mumbled an
apology, then headed back up the stairs.
“Hey!” Reece called up, “no going back to bed!”
“I’m not! I’m going to get Sir Flaming Sword!” came the indignant response.
Laughing the ebony eyed Merc joined the others at the bar, slapping Valin on the back before
taking a seat. “Where is your old man?”
“Not coming,” Valin coughed, “Gods! You made the Mai’Tus go down the wrong way!”
“Not coming? What do you mean not coming?”
“Erm… as in, he isn’t here, and he won’t be with us? He went back to Nenlante late last night
with no real explanation as to why. He woke me up, said that Glory should take his place, and
left.”
Reece frowned and looked over at Malik who had been awake for several hours already. The
SandShadow simply held his hands up in the universal ‘I have no idea’ gesture.
“Well… maybe the others returned from Tenobrous?” he asked.
Valin looked startled for a moment, “I hadn’t considered that… hold on… Anaya would know.”
The young elf closed his eyes and went silent for several minutes, a smile quirking the edge of
his lip, then fading.
“Well?” Reece inquired.
“Yes… they arrived late last night. Callan Blackthorn and Dera An’Thaya nearly didn’t make
it…” a short bark of laughter shook him, “they nearly killed each other on the docks when they
got back anyway. Everyone seemed alright considering… except for Ghet.” Sea green eyes
popped open and Valin smiled ruefully at his Uncle, “There is your answer I guess.”
Mel smiled at Valin, and leaned into her cousin just a bit before her eyes watched Glory. A
slightly tired 'Loki poked along her bond to SunSong, sending an image of the smaller blue
wuffling at the Gold. "That would explain Amilyn's anxiety last night. I couldn't make out much
of what was going through her mind, she was agitated by Ammah and Callan I think..." The
blonde shrugged and drank some more of her water.
Glory could sense SunSong wuffling back at 'Loki when he heard the very grouchy tones of his
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little brother as he and Cully descended the stairs.
"Nobody told me it was time to get up!" Mak was grousing. "Gods! I mean, can't we just get
more than two hours of sleep at a time? You know, like a whole night's worth? Two weeks'
worth would really be premium."
Glory just gave him a black look and shook his head. Mak would stop complaining once he
heard about the Tenobrous rescue team.
Mel narrowed her eyes at Mak. "Some of us, little brother, haven't even had those two hours..."
And then she threw a Mai'Tus fruit at him. Another long drink of her water and the blonde halfelf pushed it away. She was really quite tired of it, having been drinking water most of the night
to flush out what remained of the whiskey she'd drank. Unlike Mystical, she couldn't entirely
force all of the alcohol out. She might not get drunk, but it still had an effect and she couldn't risk
it interfering with her magic today.
“Oh relax,” Rhodry’s baritone echoed from the stairwell, “It’ll all be over soon boy. You’ll either
be happily ensconced back in Corin… or you’ll be dead. Either way, you’ll get some sleep.” The
one eyed Merc hit the bottom of the stairs and turned to put his arm around Rani as she came up
beside him. His free hand merrily ruffled Mak’s hair and he grinned at Mel. “Is that water or
Vodka?”
"Water… I'll crack open the vodka after we're done. I have a feeling I'll need it..." She grinned.
She couldn't help it, she liked the mercenary, he made her laugh.
Fadil stood listening, glowering silently. The news that it was Ghet that had dragged Y'Roden
away... again... well, he wasn't surprised. Annoyed, but not surprised. Still, Valin was doing a
damn fine job of filling the gap.
Mak suddenly felt put upon. He was out of sorts and usually the calm and quiet one. If he'd know
they were throwing about his name -- the true meaning of it, he would have really exploded. As
it was, the fruit beaned him between the eyes and then Rhodry ruffled his hair and called him
'boy' and Mak just ended up sitting on a stair. Damn anyone trying to get down the stairs right
now. He was just going to sit right there. And of course then he realized his shirt was on
backward and wrong-side out.
"Well... dead would give me more than two weeks sleep," he muttered.
Valin shot an amused glance at his cousin and shook his head, “Alright… so, Mel, Glory, Reece,
Malik, Fadil and myself should be heading down into the tunnels shortly. I’d recommend
grabbing something to eat first. Cully, Mak, you have Rhodry here, a mercenary by trade. Not to
mention Rani, a General in her own right. I’d make use of their knowledge and gather the troops
to storm the gate once we have it open. We will send the signal via the Web, safer that way,
Tallin can’t see or track it.” Gods… he hoped Roc was all right… not to mention everyone else
still trapped with the Great Uncle from Hells.
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***
“So… about fifteen feet forwards, then straight up,” Reece whispered, his fingers pressing on the
solid wall of rock in front of him. “Our people know we are coming through.”
“Good,” Valin muttered, “we’ll need reinforcements to get the gates open. They are in better
condition than Ki was… right?” His expression in the dimly lit tunnel was one of worry. He still
had a brother in there, and a brother-in-law, the state his sibling had been in when brought out
wasn’t comforting.
“Aye… there was some odd fellow in a striped suit there too… never did get his name, but he
had that… deity thing going on.”
“Deity? Well, you know Jaran to see him… so I haven’t a clue.”
“Shouldn’t we get going?” Malik asked from where he stood beside Fadil, a slightly impatient
look on his face.
“Sorry,” Valin shot back, “ready when you are.”
“Just… whatever you do, do not loose contact with your designated Transmuter,” Reece
cautioned the group, “lose your grip, and you’ll become a permanent fixture in the bedrock.”
"Deity in a striped suit? That had to be Xraden. Chaos... Gods only know what he's encouraging
them to do..." Mel sighed and looked at Glory. "You ready to do this, Little Brother?" And then a
thought occurred to her and she was looking at their uncle again. "Doro Reece, when we get
through, who goes which way?"
Glory had just barely nodded to Melaina. He'd had his coffee and now his stomach was churning.
Despite his desire to be in the midst of the fray and all, he always experienced a deep anxiety
before heading into something potentially deadly. He berated himself silently; he ought to be
used to this all by now. Right?
Fadil snorted quietly. "One worry at a time," he said caustically. "It's perfectly reasonable to be
concerned about walking through solid rock. As long as the Chaos god can mind his own
business while we do it."
“We will let Valin decide that when we emerge in the Dungeons, Mel,” Reece smiled. “Ready
Your Highness?”
The Prince nodded and took his Doro’s offered wrist, wrapping strong fingers around the other
man's bracer. “Ready.”
The ebony-eyed Mercenary winked at his nephew, then turned his attention to the rock. Reaching
out with one hand he touched the hard surface and watched it ripple like the surface of a pond.
“Here goes.” It was difficult to tell what was changing… the rock, or Reece and Valin
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themselves. Either way, the younger of the two looked more than a little disturbed and squinched
his eyes shut just before they disappeared.
Malik raised an eyebrow slightly, then turned to offer his wrist to Fadil, amusement in the back
of his eyes. “I assure you,” he said softly in his thickly accented baritone, “it is perfectly safe…
so long as you do not let go.”
Fadil took the proffered arm with a snort. "Right. And as long as no one has a dodgy sense of
humour right? I won't be letting go." He shuddered, and just shut his eyes.
Mel nodded and held out her hand to Glory, drawing the magic up inside her. It was rare that she
did magic consciously, but given the seriousness of this and that someone else was dependent on
her not screwing it up she wanted to be cautious. "Ready when you are..."
Malik may have been laughing, it was hard to tell; it was generally an internal thing for the
SandShadow. His dark eyes certainly gave the impression of laughter. His actions seemed a
direct emulation of Reece’s as he stepped through the tunnel wall, taking the discombobulated
looking S’Hean with him.
Glory would never be ready for something like this, but nevertheless he nodded, took hold of his
sister's hand and started praying, hoping the gibbering in his mind couldn't be heard.
"Okay, let's go," he said in a breathless whisper.
Their journey through the rock would be a little different, as Mel's abilities weren't natural. She
made sure to keep a tight hold on Glory as they became part of the rock. Her wrist had started to
tingle as soon as he'd taken hold of her hand and she used that bond to try to quiet the anxiety she
felt. She couldn't hear the gibberish; she just knew a bad case of nerves when she saw it. Remind
me that I never want to travel like this again... 'Loki wasn't very fond of closed in spaces and she
was definitely making it known.
***
Y’Roden woke sometime before dawn, his waking mind already wondering how Valin and the
others were faring in Corin. He was tired… dead tired. After the ordeal with Ghet in the middle
of the night and a serious lack of sleep… he was far from ready to get up.
Sprawled in bed dressed in a loose pair of black trousers, he had one arm wrapped around his
youngest son. He hadn’t had the heart, or the will to send him to the nursery, not after the horrors
of Tenobrous. Instead, Mena had watched over the boy while Ro had tended to Ghet, nearly
become a Dragon Entrée, and had a bath. Afterwards he had cleaned up Rhagi, managed to get a
little food into him, assured his son that Ghetsuhm was just fine, then crashed into bed.
Nightmares had haunted the fair-haired little boy throughout the restless hours of the night… and
Ro had woken each time, just holding him and humming the darkness away. It felt like so little…
but it was the best he could do.
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Rhagi had thought there was no way he'd be able to sleep, not after what he'd seen, but he was
exhausted. Even so, he probably wouldn't have managed without his father's reassuring presence
at his side. When he woke, the first thing that struck him was being warm. He'd been cold for
what seemed like such a long time. Not that long, really, but so much had changed.
He knew he'd dreamed. He couldn't remember too much, just glimpses that scared him. The dark
and the cold and Samara and that thing moving inside his mother... Y'Roden said she was all
right, but sometimes people lied to children to make them feel better. He remembered her saying
he would have to stay with his Addah for longer this time, knowing that she was hiding
something...
He sat up, and rubbed at his eyes. Those eyes were shadowed, dark and troubled. They scanned
the room, looking for trouble first of all. "Addah? You're still here..."
Y’Roden opened his eyes and smiled up at his son, reaching out to ruffle his hair a little. “Of
course I’m still here Rhagi, I told you I wouldn’t leave you by yourself.” Sitting up the half-elf
hugged his son close and kissed the top of his head. There was still cold fear in his heart, that
stricken feeling only a parent feels when their children are in trouble. He still had a son and two
daughters out there, beyond his reach for now. He was grateful for the return of Fechine and
Rhagi however, though the elder boy’s withdrawn state was worrisome… yet understandable.
“Hungry?” he asked, “We can go out on the balcony and have some breakfast… watch the suns
come up. How does that sound?”
Rhagi nodded. "That sounds good." It sounded about as good as anything else did. He wanted...
something, something he couldn't name, but there was this hole where his previous confidence
and utter security had been. Like any five year old, he'd previously believed himself
invulnerable. Unlike most children, though, he understood that his father had an awful lot of very
important things he had to do, and he just couldn't afford to hang around making Rhagi feel
good.
So, he'd make the most of the time they had. He made a conscious effort to be a bit more
enthusiastic. "Yes, let's do that. And you can show me which one is which. And then, can I go
see Mummy?"
“You sure can,” Ro rumbled gently, his heart breaking a little. The bright light of Rhagi had
dimmed, and there was no telling if he would ever be the same. “She’ll want to see you too…
and you know, just to ease your mind a little, because I know you are worried. Close you eyes…
and see this?”
The King of S’Hea shifted to inner vision, displaying the living, vibrant D’Riel web to his son.
“This one is you,” he murmured, highlighting a verdant green strand that led to Y’Roden
himself, “and this one,” a deep red filament glowed softly beneath his gentle touch, “this one is
your Mummy. See… she is just fine.”
The anxious lines in Rhagi's face faded as he closed his eyes and watched. It was so beautiful.
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His father was the hub, so connected it was awe-inspiring. He frowned slightly, just curious,
seeking to understand. "Why is she red? Is it because she's not a D'Riel?"
“Well… different souls have different colours… I’m really not sure why. See this one,” he gave
a golden strand a sharp pluck, “That one is Galain… and this one over here,” he touched a forest
green and silver strand more gently, “this is your adopted sister Shadow and this silver one…
that is Silverthorn… here we have Callan Blackthorn,” he tugged a black and silver strand that
was limed with crimson and jade, “and… this autumn colored one is Dera Jaiden. See…
different races, different colours, and yes, D’Riels are always emerald green. It reflects the
colour of the Aethyr that is the source of our power, our life’s blood… so to speak.”
Y’Roden opened his eyes and smiled down at his boy, “you are part of something very
precious… very special my little Prince. Now… let’s feed that legendary D’Riel appetite shall
we? I’m starving.”
Rhagi was fascinated, the first thing he'd been interested in for a while. He knew his mother had
always thought of Galain as gold, it was on her skin. Now he could see why. Though that still
didn't say why gold and not another colour. He wondered if you'd ever be able to isolate the
colored bit, and find out just what it was about a person. For him, though, he knew: he was
D'Riel, and he was green like all the other D'Riels, and that was immensely comforting. He was
part of something bigger than himself and he liked it.
"Of course you're starving," he said, clambering out of the bed. "You always are. You're not
going to make me wrestle you for food again, are you?"
“Are you calling your father a glutton?” Ro asked with a chuckle as he slid out of the bed, bare
feet touching on the carpeted floor as he stretched, then trundled off after his son. “I may very
well make you wrestle…its good exercise you know, helps work off the calories whilst you are
taking them in.” For the moment, Rhagi seemed happily distracted, which eased Y’Roden’s
worries a little… but not terribly much.
“Mai’Tus juice? Ah look… the first sun is coming up. That would be Ulde-Bel, the gold sun.
You know what the really weird thing is? We are only orbiting one of them. The other one,
Wode-Bel or the Red Sun, is in the exact same orbit as we are, going around Ulde-Bel. We are at
one point of … well, something like a triangle, which is why Whispin is able to sustain life.” The
half-elf paused and looked at his five year old, but extremely bright son. “Any of that make any
sense?”
Rhagi's little brow creased as he absently took the juice and concentrated on what his father said.
He poured sugar out across the table and drew in it with his finger. One sun. Planetary orbit.
Same orbit as them? He drew another dot, and frowned at the picture. "Like that?"
“Exactly like that,” Ro nodded, grinning at his son’s ingenuity, “See… we are always a set
distance from Wode-Bel because we share the same orbit, most binary star systems are to
unstable, their planets subject to harsh planetary pulls by the dual suns. This triangle,” he used a
fork to sketch through the sugar, “always stays the same, same distances, same forces. But… the
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important thing is,” he added with a wink, “Is how beautiful they are to watch come up in the
morning.”
***
An’Thaya had woken with the rising of the sun, its familiar heat seeping into her flesh and
burning away the chill of Tenobrous. She had found Adarin still sleeping, and loathe to wake
him, had dressed, straightened out her mass of flaming hair, and headed out to find her brother.
The chaos in the council room was unexpected, and the Amazon wasn’t sure who looked more
upset, the Lords, her Ammah, or Y’Roden himself. The argument seemed to have been caused
by two Elder Lords, old school S’Heans who obviously were not impressed by the mixed blood
of their new King.
“You are needed here, Your Majesty,” one was snapping, his tone slightly tinged with distain,
“The treaty we held with the Kingdom of Corin died with your Father. Our concerns should be
here, with assuring our people that what transpired here will never happen again.”
“The treaty certainly did not die with my Ronnan,” Se’Liene’s words were laced with venom,
her small frame shaking with rage as she stood to address Lord W’Cren, “My Addah, King
Y’Ardyn, stated things clearly, the treaty would stand as long as the legal issue of our marriage
held the throne of Corin.”
“I do not see a D’Riel on the throne,” W’Cren shot back, “I see a Modar.”
“An usurper is what you see,” Y’Roden growled, “and if you continue to use that tone with my
Ammah, Lord W’Cren…” The sentence went unfinished, though the threat was clear.
What in the name of Arminiea is going on in here? An’Thaya sent along the Web, Have they lost
their collective minds? The Amazon’s eyes were wide with disbelief, appalled that anyone would
use her Father’s death as political leverage.
The King of S’Hea paused and turned to look at his sister with a dour expression, “Come on in
and join us An’Thaya, Lord W’Cren here was just treating us to a fascinating history lesson.”
“So I heard,” Tay said aloud, “What seems to be the trouble Milord? You were there when the
treaty was signed; you know full well it stands as long as Y’Roden takes the throne. We need to
retake Corin for that to happen, and if it doesn’t… I think we would have far bigger problems.
Tallin Modar is a tyrant, his eight hundred year reign nearly brought Corin to permanent ruin.”
“What should I care what happens to Corin? Humans are but a moment in time, inconsequential.
Their lives pass as mere shadows beneath the suns to our eternal light. Let them fall… S’Hea
needs its King. Tallin Modar could never touch us when all S’Heans lived within the wards… I
say it is time to call our people home, to shut away the outside world and reclaim our peaceful
existence.”
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"See...this is why we used to serve elves on a platter with an apple in their mouth. The most
OFFENSIVE things tend to come out of their mouths when they're being bent a direction they
don't like..." Callan growled from the doorway. Dark rings still colored the skin beneath his eyes
and an array of purple and green bruises could be seen on various places where skin was
exposed...namely where Galain had hit him square in the mouth upon his questionable arrival
from Tenobrous. Behind him, Il'dashi trailed into the room in her usual silence and took up a
position to the right of Y'Roden, her fingers tapping a dagger hilt at her belt lightly.
"Now...forgive me..." Callan's usual arrogance filled his voice as he pulled a chair out without so
much as a by-your-leave from Y'Roden or a look of recognition to An'Thaya, he slumped into
the seat with practiced casual laziness. A boot knife was pulled from around one ankle in a fluid
move as Callan propped his heavily booted feet up on the table, "...for being the one to point this
out..." The Dragon Emperor began cleaning his nails. He paused and blew the shavings on a
nearby Lord, "But, Modar has penetrated your wards once already. No doubt he'll do it again.
Unless, of course, I'm wrong...and I'm never wrong. But feel free to correct me anyway...I'm sure
you will."
Lord W’Cren’s face went red with rage and he glared at the interloper, his anger only fuelled by
the smirk that kept twitching at the edge of Y’Roden’s lip. “Aye, he has,” the S’Hean hissed,
“but only by gaining access to a D’Riel. Who the Hells asked you anyway?”
“So you would have us imprison our own people?” An’Thaya asked in a cool tone, “and if I were
you, Milord, I would address our ally with greater respect.” The Princess looked a little green
about the gills, and about ready to do Lord W’Cren a favour by beating her amused brother
senseless.
“For their own safety? Yes,” W’Cren stated flatly, “we got on just fine for thousands of years
without outside influence.” The last was said with a direct look at the Black Dragon Emperor.
Anaya was lurking on the edge of the Council and biting her lip to stop from commenting - she
was, after all, human, albeit one who would live a rather long life. The blonde hadn't come here
to argue, she'd come to ask a favour of her father in law, it could wait until he'd calmed. But the
diplomat side of her was nagging at her. Nodding in greeting to Y'Roden and An'Thaya, the
human woman spoke.
"Ah, yes Milord W'Cren, imprisoning could work." Anaya said softly. "Unfortunately, the
usurper has a number of people in his... possession, who could be used to open the Wards. So
lock down all you like by all means, he still has keys, so to speak. Or am I wrong there, being
such a short lived Human?" Celtic eyes sharpened on the Lord, amber centres hardening as she
regarded him. Her tone had been even throughout, but her words belied the anger and disbelief
she was feeling. Ingraleis Lords had nothing on him! The briefest flutter of her daughter's soul
against her mind calmed Anaya somewhat, however her disbelief remained.
The S’Hean opened his mouth to lay out a scathing remark to the human woman when he caught
the look on Y’Roden’s face. The byplay with Callan had been amusing, but Anaya was his
daughter-in-law.
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“Tallin Modar has my son,” the King said softly, “I’ll not leave Roc in that monster’s possession.
Nor will I leave any of the others… they are all family or ally in some way, and I’ll tell you this.
Had B’Rodyn survived, he would be fighting just as hard to reclaim Corin, as he did the first
time.”
Y’Roden held the Lord’s gaze a moment longer, than turned to address the Emperor. “Callan,
would you mind going ahead of me to Corin? I have a few things here that need seeing to before
I can leave.”
“I’m going,” Tay interrupted, “there is no need to send him.”
Her brother’s head jerked up, emerald eyes focusing on their mirror reflection, “I don’t think so
Thaya, I want you here, resting… and nowhere near Tallin.”
The Amazon’s expression hardened, darkened eyes flashing as her spine went rigid. “I’m fine, I
don’t need any more rest. I won’t sit idly by whilst Corin is in his hands.”
Callan's ice-blue eyes riveted on W'Cren for several long seconds, then without breaking his
stare, Callan's feet slid to the floor with a loud thump of booted feet hitting the stones. Slowly, he
leaned forward, his fingers settled into a fruit bowl that had been provided for refreshments
during the council, and the Emperor selected a ripe, red apple. He leaned back, took a bite,
chewed thoughtfully, then offered the fruit to the Elven lord. Had it been politically correct, he
would have simply invited W'Cren to dinner at the Keep, merrily roasted him, and served him
with a nice white wine...those always went best with white meat after all.
His eyes flicked to Y'Roden at the sound of his voice, "Aye...I can and will. The House Guard is
there and while my brother is well learned in the ways of politics and such, he's never been to
war. I'll go...and you'll stay," His voice turned cold as his eyes shifted to An'Thaya, "I don't give
a damn if you're rested or not."
The Amazon went from irritated to enraged in the few seconds it took for the words to leave
Callan’s lips. Without thinking she swiped the apple from his hand, jabbed her fingers into the
hinge of his jaw and jammed the apple into his mouth when it automatically popped open. One
hand fisted into the back of his short cropped dark hair and she threw her entire weight forward,
cracking his head off the heavy round table.
“When I want your opinion Callan Blackthorn,” she hissed, “I’ll ask for it. I.AM.GOING.”
At this point Y’Roden was rubbing his eyes with one hand and repressing a frustrated sigh. It
didn’t help that W’Cren was quietly snickering.
“Fine… obviously you left your common sense back on Tenobrous,” the King muttered, “both of
you.”
Anaya laid a gentle hand on her father-in-law's arm. Maybe they did Addah, the telepath
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whispered softly, and only to him. But it hasn't even been a day since they got back. And I'm not
going to ask why you don't want Thaya to go, but since when have any of us been able to tell her
what to do? A half-smile spread across her face, And anyway, a pissed off Amazon is a scary
thing, as well we know. Is Callan choking?
Y’Roden had to admit… Anaya was right… on two counts. An’Thaya was scary… and…
Yes… I believe he is, the half-elf answered dryly, I say we flip a coin to see who has to perform
the Heimlich. Who knew someone could fit an entire apple in their mouth like that...
***
Ghet woke slowly. She was exhausted, and while the pain was gone, her whole body was
achingly stiff. That wasn't the worst, though. Her spirit felt beaten unconscious. It was the heavy
black pall in her soul that stopped her from moving when she woke. She had screwed up so
badly, and others had paid for it while they cleaned up her mess.
That wasn't all either. She'd made mistakes before, though perhaps not quite this badly, and
recovered. There was a feeling of loneliness she could not shake off, the after-effect of An'Thaya
and Shadow's words in Tenobrous, the ripping open of old wounds. She wasn't meant, she wasn't
right, she should be dead. And something Ro had said to Galain last night, when she'd hardly
been capable of listening. ...given you are here...
That was why she didn't want to move: in case he wasn't here. She should be able to stand
without him. For most of her life she had been, but lately... it seemed like, ever since Rhagi had
been conceived, she'd been so weak, so dependent. And now she had to face the reality: there
were circumstances in which her husband would have left her to die alone.
She stifled a sob and opened her eyes, and the bond that had lain closed all night. Galain?
Right here, Galain answered softly, relieved to feel the bond between them reopen. He'd been
awake for some time now despite his own exhaustion. He'd never left Ghetsuhm's side and had
been drifting when he was certain someone had plucked at something deep inside him. Sleep was
impossible to catch now as a result.
"How are you feeling?" he asked his wife. It was probably a stupid question given everything
that had occurred, but he couldn't help it. He sat up slightly and ran a hand through Ghetsuhm's
hair.
Ghet dragged herself to sitting, grimacing at the way the sheets stuck to her, brown with dried
blood. "Well, I don't seem to be dying. So that's an improvement. Gods..." She turned her face to
kiss his wrist, an old gesture, and flushed. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry. If I'd just managed to keep
my head, none of this would... okay, almost all of it would still have happened, but not this. It
was dumb."
"No, you're not dying," Galain said quietly, laughing gently. He brushed at her hair and then let
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the smile fade away.
"Well, it was dumb, but when you're trying to save the people you love intelligence isn't always a
factor." He winked at her and smiled again. "You're one hell of a brave and courageous woman,
love. But you sure scared me to death."
Everything about him, their connection, his touch, his words, made her feel better. The bad
feelings were receding, going back in their box where they belonged. Things were just the way
they were and that was that. Warily, she pushed the sheets back so she could see her stomach. It
seemed impossible that it should look just like it had before. She owed Ro an apology too.
"Intelligence definitely not a factor. But it just might be time I grew up. Galain..." The horror that
haunted her was hard to put into words. "It was only a nasty co-incidence of timing that meant...
we never finished what we started. I could have been pregnant when she put that thing in me, and
our baby..." She shook her head. "I think I need to do some thinking, that's what I think. In the
meantime, I desperately need a bath. Care to help?"
Realization dawned in Galain's eyes. It was terrible enough that the thing Samara had fed into
Ghet had done the damage it had done, but -"Thank the gods for coincidence then," he said suddenly. He brushed the side of her face and
then kissed her. "Think forward. Don't think back. You weren't pregnant, you are well and whole
again and yes... yes you do need a bath. Allow me to scrub you down."
Ghet looked in his eyes and saw he understood, and he wasn't calling her an idiot for freaking out
over something that hadn't happened. Then she looked a little deeper, for the first time since
they'd come back. She'd been closed off from him while he'd been in Samara's keep, and in too
much pain to think since they'd come back. She reached out and stroked his cheek. "Oh my love,
what did she do to you?"
Galain paused. He'd conveniently stuffed his own time with Samara back into the recesses of his
mind. But not that deeply. When Ghet asked him he stopped all motion and thought, his face
going slack for a moment. The old niggling -- the weird feeling that he had to do something very
important had suddenly returned and he itched. He itched against something he couldn't possibly
reach and it was driving him crazy.
"The same old stuff. Hung me up, ripped off my clothes -- the usual humiliation route. Spent
some time getting beat up. It's quite something to hang from a ceiling and get the living tar
beaten out of you." He said all of this with a smile. "I survived though I guess I yelled out too
soon. That sucked. I thought I could handle it longer."
Suddenly he looked away.
"I remember her face..." he said. "I was laying on something... and she kept cutting me." He
stopped, his head suddenly hurting and desperately. "I survived," he said suddenly just smiling.
"Like you."
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Ghet crawled out of the bed and just wrapped herself around him, body and soul. Her heart ached
for what he had gone through, and why. Neither of them would have been touched on their own
account. "Gods, it's not a contest, Galain. You do whatever you have to, to survive." She grinned,
desperately seeking the humour in an otherwise unbearable situation. "And I don't see you being
humiliated when I hang you up and rip your clothes off."
She kissed his mouth slowly, softly. "Come on, bath. We'll take care of each other."
Galain chuckled and kissed her back. "You can hang me from a ceiling and rip my clothes off
anytime," he said, touching her face tenderly. "Mind if I carry you to the bath? I might trip and
fall, but that'll just make the whole journey that much more exciting."
He was already lifting her as gingerly as possible, anxious to wash away the fear, blood and
sweat that had accumulated on their bodies over the past weeks.
***
Shadow crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching the goings on with an
annoyed disdain. She hated politics; she hated arrogant courtiers even worse. The corner of her
mouth twitched as she found an image floating through her mind of W’Cren slowly suffocating.
Of course she didn’t know the Lord and anyone’s face could replace the S’Hean’s, his just
seemed handy at the moment.
Forest green eyes turned at another disturbance, sending the corner of her mouth curling up, “If I
had known I could have had action with my breakfast, I would have waited to eat…” Shadow
broke off as Callan’s head slammed into the table, “I would have also started taking bets.”
Stars had spangled his vision for just a moment, then he'd found the apple he'd been threatening
W'Cren with shoved fully into his jaws. A low growl rumbled out of his chest as a black talon
shot from two fingers and began digging into his mouth to extract the apple.
It was a damn good thing Aerdonian Dragons had slip-hinge jaws. The whole workings of his
skull was entirely different than any other creature, aside from snakes... after all, there were
times a fully-shifted dragon had to eat something substantial...and fast. Why not just swallow the
whatever it was whole?
Apples, however, did not count... and apples in two-legger form could still suffocate him. One
large chunk was carved off and flicked at the Amazon, then the rest was pried free and set with
great deliberation on the table. Seconds passed where Callan worked his jaw, trying to slip it
back into place...to no avail.
"Gods dammit...I hate it when this happens..." Which was often when the hinge was slipped in
two-legger form... it was also painful.
Topaz eyes narrowed in An'Thaya's direction as his thumb ran under his jawbone and his fingers
began pressing the hinge on the right side. A sickening pop and a hiss of pain later, the bone
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slipped back into joint.
"You bitch..." He growled low, then shot Se’Liene a dark look. The memory of the threat with
the long-handled scrub brush was still fresh in his mind... and while the jaw was built to
accommodate odd... things... being shoved in there... his posterior was not.
"I mean that in the best possible way... of course..."
“Of course you do… it's only the truth,” An’Thaya snorted, then looked to Y’Roden. “At any
rate, my Amazons are there. Shali is injured and I’m not comfortable leaving them under any
other command. If the numbers given to me are right… I’ve lost several hundred Warriors out of
the seven hundred I had to begin with. They’ll fare better under my leadership.”
The Queen Mother merely smiled sweetly at the Dragon Emperor and settled back in her chair.
“Are you certain, Lord W’Cren, that you do not want that apple? I'm positive my daughter
wouldn’t mind feeding you as well… though I’m fairly certain your jaw doesn’t unhinge quite so
neatly as his Emperorship’s.”
W’Cren blanched and abruptly sat down, his eyes flickering from Callan to the apple and back
again. He seemed slightly unsettled by the nature of the beast.
“Alright,” Y’Roden said finally, “if you are all finished taking shots at one another. This council
meeting is officially over. An’Thaya… fine, if you are going to be stubborn, you can have the
pleasure of getting Callan through the wards… seeing as it went oh so well the last time.
W’Cren… I am returning to Corin, whether you like it or not. S’Hea will remain under
Se’Liene’s leadership until I return.”
“I am not…!” Tay started, then immediately shut her mouth at a synchronized look from both
her brother and mother. “Fine,” her mouth drew a hard line, “I’ll help his Emperorship through
the Wards.” She made no promises as to where he might land.
Anaya had been creased up in near-silent laughter at Ro's comment, sharing her snickers only
with him. It felt good to laugh, even if only at something rather stupid. As the half-elf King had
called the session to end, she turned to him.
"I need a favour Addah. Don't look at me like that, it's not something bad."
Y’Roden’s expression softened as he looked down at his daughter-in-law. “Well that’s a relief,
giving the general direction my morning as been sliding in. How can I help?” He was trying very
hard to ignore the scathing look An’Thaya cast in his direction before turning on her heel and
heading off towards Shadow.
The blonde sighed lightly. "I need to bring Rachel here. I think it would do her and the boys a
world of good, not to mention Yarwin." Anaya held off telling her father-in-law of the rather...
distressed... sensations she had been getting from her twin. Wards might block her from talking
to the redhead properly, but they could never fully mute the unique bond they shared. "If you
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wouldn't mind lending me a hand?" Tiredness shone out from behind Celtic eyes, the same
tiredness they all suffered in one way or another.
“I’d be happy to. I owe Yarwin a massive debt for retrieving my sons. Why don’t we step out
into the Gardens and I’ll open the wards for you. Is she ready to come through?” The half-elf
looked to his mother for a moment, excusing himself with a look as he escorted Anaya around
the round table to the huge double doors that led out into the Ornamental Gardens.
"Ready?" Anaya replied dryly, "She's been climbing the walls..."
***
Galain had heard of the council meeting quite after the fact. He was completely exhausted and
quite focused on Ghetsuhm's well-being, so when a servant quietly informed him as he sat
watching his tired wife drift back to sleep after the bath, he could only shut his eyes and nod
slowly.
"All right, I'm going," he'd replied before kissing Ghet's brow and leaving. At least he was clean,
he told himself, not really caring. His thoughts were shifting and as they did something buried
within his mind was beginning to take a faint, amorphous shape. He tried to figure out what it
was and was rewarded with yet another splitting headache. It was the sight of Shadow and Tay
just ahead of him that smoothed the frown of pain away.
An’Thaya felt Galain’s presence before she saw him and she turned to greet her husband with a
brilliant smile before slipping into his arms. “Dagar husband,” she murmured, tilting her face up
to be kissed, “come to see me off?” The familiar feel and scent of the Elen Prince was reassuring,
and for the moment her usual self sparkled through in response to him.
The pain ebbed in pleasure as he wrapped his arms around his wife and Galain kissed Tay.
"Hello, wife," he answered. "What do you mean, 'see you off'?" he asked. "We just got back... oh
hells. I've missed the whole council, haven't I?" He ran his hands over Tay, making sure she was
really here before he flashed Shadow a quick smile. Before he knew it, he'd drawn her into his
hug as well, something more than just fondness and love compelling. Something that seemed to
be crooning his name somehow.
When his hand hit something hard within Shadow's vest everything became a blur and before
anyone could blink, the dagger Shadow had picked up in Samara's keep was secreted within
Galain's own vest. It was a once in a lifetime pickpocket job that would leave Galain shocked
and breathless later.
“Corin,” Tay answered quietly, looking at Galain in a way that begged him not to put up any
argument. “Shali was injured and my Sister’s need me. They lost two hundred in the attack on
Corin… I can’t let them fight our family’s war and not be there myself.”
Galain was staring at his wife as he slowly released both women. Later he would be stunned over
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what had happened when it came to the dagger, but right now he was staring at his wife as he
gave both Tay and Shadow a confused look.
"Don't tell me. You decided something foolhardy and dangerous while I was gone," he said,
trying to be light hearted. But his heart was thudding. "Can I come?" he asked.
Meanwhile, outside in the Gardens, Y’Roden and Anaya stood bathed in the light of an emerald
portal. The King looked slightly distracted, though he did smile down at his daughter-in-law
when she looked up at him. The quiet moment among the roses seemed almost surreal… and he
was remembering times here with B’Rodyn and Gwen. So much change… so much heavy
responsibility… and deep in his heart, sick worry for those who had yet to be rescued.
Anaya was distracted also as she touched gently on the wards surrounding the Palace. A moment
or two later Rachel came flying full barrel out of the portal and into her twin's arms with an
"OOF!" Anaya simply wrapped her arms around her sister with a smile of gratitude to her father.
"Come on sis, let’s get you to your family."
Callan, still brooding over his head being flipped up like a trash can lid for the apple, rose to his
feet when Galain entered. He gave the Elen a brief nod of greeting that was still tinged with
many emotions, regret and guilt being only two of them, then felt compelled to look back at
Se’Liene D'Riel. This would be the last time in this life he saw this Elven woman, he was certain
of it.
"M’Lady..." He paused, unsure what more he could possibly say, then bowed his head, "May the
winds of the next life carry you swiftly to your lost Randii..."
That said, he slipped quietly out into the gardens, stood where he could not be seen so as to not
interrupt Y'Roden and Anaya, and waited on the Amazon.
Se'Liene watched the set of the Dragon's spine as he left the room, then shifted her gaze to her
daughter, the remnants of a smirk still curving the edge of her mouth.
Shadow held her hands up, “Don’t look at me, you know how hard headed your wife is,” the
forest elf grinned at An’Thaya. “I’m staying here, Gent can play soldier all he wants to, I need a
break,” and she needed to get to the library to do a bit of research on an idea that had plagued her
while they were in hell. The dagger, of course, was completely forgotten; the memory of it
leaving her mind after it had found its new home.
An’Thaya laughed and shook her head at both Shadow and her husband, “I am not hard headed.”
There was a pause, “Ok, so even I didn’t believe me.” The Amazon hugged the Elen a little
harder and gazed up at him, “I’d love for you to come… but… well. Ghet? And are you feeling
ok?” She didn’t want to know what Samara had done to her husband… it was too much to deal
with. “If you really want to, I’m not going to say no. You should say goodbye to Ghet though
first… you can always meet me at the Golden Griffin afterwards.”
Galain was now feeling a load of sensations. He’d nodded briefly to Callan, pick pocketed a
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trusting Shadow, hugged a wife who deserved far more…
“Yeah, she’s worse than… well… she’s hard-headed,” Galain answered Shadow ruefully. He
gave Tay a possessive hug and then kissed her ear. His heart was failing to beat regularly though,
especially when Tay protested. He rolled his eyes at her and nodded. Ghet’s name had his heart
failing and he wondered just when his two wives would just kill him. He’d wanted independent
women and now he had two of them.
Well… he could die a happy man…
He grinned at Shadow and then eyed Tay.
“I’m okay,” he lied. He felt terrible only when he thought about it. “I’ll move it.”
He had no idea what he’d be able to do. Something within him was tugging hard. Something that
was suddenly hitting him hard and giving him another headache. The dagger in his vest was
practically yelling at him, but not quite… after all, its target wasn’t yet in the room.
An’Thaya’s brow furrowed slightly as she eyed her husband, there was something a little off…
but it could just be the stress. “Alright love,” she murmured, “I’ll see you there. I love you.”
Standing up on tiptoe she kissed him, a hard lingering meeting of mouths that said a little more
than she could manage with words. Then, disentangling herself from his embrace and giving
Shadow’s hand an affectionate squeeze, she made her way across the room and through the
double doors to the Ornamental Gardens.
“Come on Your Emperorship,” she snapped, “time to go.” The portal was opening before Callan
could even open his mouth and Tay didn’t bother looking in his direction as she stepped through
the shimmering vortex.
It was simply too fast and Galain stared after his wife, sick at heart and hugely unhappily.
Everything had been too... quick... too little. He gaped a bit and then moaned quietly. Off she
went again.
***
Rhodry set his tankard down on the end of the map that kept curling up, much to his irritation,
and tilted his head so he could see more clearly, his free hand scratching at his eye patch. “Ok…
going straight through the market place just is not advisable,” his gaze flicked up to the two
Alcarin youths in front of him, “I say we take the city streets south, split to the east and west, and
come round to these points here,” his finger hit the map on a side street to the West of the Castle,
“and here,” he tapped to the opposite street to the East. “A distraction of some sort would be
nice.”
“I can do that,” Anelain piped up from down the bar a pace where she was eating breakfast with
Kalab. “The Nuru’kh-ai seem to find Dragons a little daunting…. a few good sweeps of dragon
flame should do it, and it is still to dark for them to be able to get in a good shot at me.”
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The Mercenary turned his head and assessed the redhead for a moment before nodding in
agreement, “Alright, but see if Akavian will come with you… perhaps bring a couple more
Blacks as well. Oh… and you might want to tell him his brother returned safe and sound.”
“Alright, I’ll run up and let him know in a minute,” she nodded, lifting her glass of Mai’Tus
juice and drinking it hurriedly. “I take it Addah and Ammah made it back alright too?” she
addressed Cully and Mak.
The titian haired elf nodded, “Aye, Valin said as much.”
“Alright, back to the plan here boys,” Rhodry muttered, “Cully, you go with Rani to the East,
Mak and I will go to the West. We’ll move while the dragons attack from the air, while their
eyes are focused up we should escape their notice.”
Mak was content to listen to Rhodry and nod his head dutifully. He had a lot to learn about
strategy and tactics. Now was a very good time to be learning and Rhodry appeared to be an
excellent teacher.
“All right… let me think… The Sandships and the Friesian Calvary are still outside the walls.
Right? So nobody is going to be sneaking up on us. S’Hean Rangers, we will need those armed
with bows up front to take out the Nuru’kh-ai on the walls. They can see in the dark, so that
really isn’t a problem… minimal risk of hitting our draconic friends. We will divide them up, as
well as the Amazons and Corin soldiers; we’ll each take a command. Tobin,” he turned to eyed
the blonde Lord who was eating breakfast at a nearby table, “You mind taking one? I’m sure
Wyvern will take another.”
Lord Black eyed his old friend over a tankard and nodded, “Aye, I can. If you want, I’ll go drag
his High Lordship's behind out of bed after I’m done eating and give him the good news.”
Rhodry chuckled, “Good luck. Now… ok… Kalab, right? I’ll need you to head up another. We’ll
sort out East and West troops in a minute. What I need to know is… Cully and Mak… can you
hear one another over that D’Riel thingamajig? Timing is important and the two of you will be
integral in passing messages back and forth. We need the right hand to know what the left hand
is doing so to speak.”
Mak arched one eyebrow at Rhodry.
"Thingamajig?" he asked, and then he nodded, giving the fellow a small smile. "Cully and I can
'hear' each other just fine. Tell us what's up and we can share it in the blink of an eye."
“It is called a Web Rhodry,” An’Thaya’s voice rang through the Inn as she pushed open the front
door, her back rigid with tension as she crossed the room. “Whiskey Darec… and no, I don’t care
that the sun hasn’t come up yet here.” The redhead seemed to be making a point of not looking
behind her. “What’s the plan of attack oh One Eyed Wonder? What have you done with my
Amazons?”
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Kalab was listening intently to the discussion, though it still surprised him when Rhodry called
him. The forest elf nodded, “I can do that.”
Argent leaned over to eye the map, “Right. There is a steady patrol here…”the Elven Bear
tapped the parchment, “The Sandships are slightly higher and are keeping an eye open for any
sort of regrouping.” He tapped the map again, indicating where the ships had been the last time
he had been outside of the walls.
Gent grinned as the Amazon joined them, leaning away from the map to snatch some food off of
Kalab's plate.
“Good… no worry of an attack from behind then. Your Amazons, Milady, await your
command,” Rhodry chuckled, “Web… right.” He paused to look beyond her to the door and
tilted his head, “I suppose that would be Callan Blackthorn? Never mind waking up Akavian,
Anelain, the Emperor can take care of things with his brother and company.”
"Aye, I would be Callan Blackthorn...and aye, we can take care of...things." The Emperor
stepped through the doorway. The look on his face betrayed none of what had happened recently,
aside from the lingering, half-healed cuts and fading bruises.
The redhead had risen from her chair, pushing by the one eyed Merc to hug her mother in relief,
nearly colliding with Cully in the process. “Right…” she answered from somewhere amongst
An’Thaya’s fiery curls.
“Hey…” the Amazon said gently, “We are suppose to be planning a battle here…” It didn’t seem
to deter her from hugging her children hard though, pulling her Lil’ Mak into the small huddle of
Alcarins. Mak just barely avoided a very unmanly squeak, though he was glad to see his mother
up and about -- and alive.
"And, forgive me," Callan stepped around the growing huddle of Alcarin children...youths? and
looked to Argent, "Sandships? What race on Whispin uses sandships?"
Callan was possibly, for the first time in many, many years, surprised. He knew of few other
people that used Sandships and if these actually were the Eheiling Narhn then Dante' had reached
Damara...
***
Reece’s arm emerged through the floor of the cell first, sliding over the rock and anchoring his
elbow before his head popped up. His expression was one of slight strain as he heaved one
massive shoulder and pulled, bringing a rather frazzled Prince of Corin out of the stone.
Valin made a quick assessment; tallying his limbs and rolling clear of the SandShadow before
coming up on his feet. Sea green eyes blinked, taking in the carnage outside the cell.
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“I see you guys have been busy,” he whispered, moving his foot aside as Malik came up, heaving
Fadil out onto the stones. The big S'Hean just stood and spent a few minutes shuddering. That
was not an experience he was in a hurry to repeat.
"You could say that," Jase replied dryly, trying to unpick the lock on his manacles again. "Are
you on your own or are more coming? And does anyone know how to get these damnable collars
off?"
"Yes we have been busy," the Knight said through his armour. He just moved the dead Nuru’khai bodies out of the way, so no one would trip over the damn things. "It's about time someone
showed up." An armoured-clad head turned to Jase. "I could try pulling it off, but," he put a hand
on his chin, scratching it in an unconscious gesture, "I can't guarantee what would happen
though."
Melaina's head popped through the rock first. "Either of you touch those bloody collars and I'm
going to break your fingers. After I find a way to resurrect you and kill you again..." The rest of
her came through, and she tugged on her arm to bring Glory out as well. "I was spying on Mysti
when Tallin took her collar off. I had to hightail it out, but I caught the explosion it made when
he threw it to the side. You'll just have to wait on that end." Grey eyes flew to E'Than, noting the
damage from the Nuru’kh-ai with a steely glint. Glory peered with his sister, unable to trust
himself to speak as yet.
"I wasn't touching it, I value my fingers sister dear," Jase replied, and finally managed to unpick
the lock. As soon as his hands were free they went to his head. "Okay, I'm not going to be doing
that again in a while. Anyone got a good cure for headaches?"
Valin looked up from where he was checking on Y’Roce and raised an eyebrow, “Addah wants
Tallin taken alive… if possible, and these collars are the reason. We need the code to get them
off, and he is the only one that knows it.” Lending Roc a hand to his feet, the Elf brushed off
dust-covered hands on his trousers.
“Alright, who have we got here… Jase, E’Than, The Blue Knight, Y’Roce and… one god of
Chaos… Dagar Xraden. Ok… the bad news is, we are directly beneath the barracks here. It looks
like you took care of some of the guard during the night… and hopefully the ones up there now
are still sleeping. We can kill them right in their beds. Not exactly honourable… but they have
numbers on their side. We split up from there, the first group goes through the side door out into
the passageway to open the gates, the second goes out the main door to protect the gates from
Tallin’s troops on the inside.”
Pausing he exchanged a look with Reece who nodded in approval. “So… group number one is
with me. Roc, Mel, Fadil and Glory. Group number two is with Reece, so… Malik, Jacen,
E’Than and Jase.” Xraden would, of course, go wherever he pleased.
Fadil nodded, a nasty grin playing about his mouth. Honour was nice but a luxury he could live
without. "Come on," he told Mel, "we can get you something to kill you won't have to
reincarnate."
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"Jeez," was all Glory could exhale as they moved quickly. He was incredibly glad he wasn't in
charge. He'd still be standing there trying to recover.
E’than's dark eyes sparked with a mixture of relief and at the same time concern when he saw
Melaina. He wanted to take the time to touch her, to let her know he was okay, but Time had
never been his friend. Time watched and Time waited for E'Than Attar, a Man who had lived far
past his allotted days like some great beast waiting on the slightest misstep of the ArmsMaster.
He was near wild from being confined this long... he missed the open sands, the cool night and
scorching hot days that burned fear from his blood. With a quick nod to Reece, he found himself
following the man named Malik, the Nuru’kh-ai weapon still in his hand. He and Melaina would
have time later... after all, he couldn't seem to get rid of Time.
As for Xraden, the god cheerfully slapped Jacen on the back, "Okay Metal head, everything
where you need it? Last call for alcohol... if you want a bigger set, or an extra pair...y'know, just
in case? I should warn you though... even though those WERE Chaos repaired, I am in no way
responsible for misfires or injury to a second or third party, 'kay?"
"Malik! Lead on!" Xraden dug around in the pocket of his zoot suite and hauled out a
switchblade, "Let's kick some ass..."
Valin chuckled softly under his breath and nudged Roc ahead of him as they left the room,
exchanging a grin with Reece as the human followed the Blue Knight out of the room and
headed towards the way out. As he passed through the cell doors he caught a glimpse of Malik
who melted into the shadows, scouting out the staircase before giving the all clear signal and
moving on towards the floor above.
Mel looked at Fadil, dark amusement in her gaze. "Oh good... Reincarnation takes too long
anyway, but Helena'd kill me if I didn't bring her parents back..." Her dragonscale armour came
through, new tendrils of blue winding up her neck and face, giving her an otherworldly
appearance as her hair twisted itself off her face and into a high ponytail. Daggers came to her
hands and she was ready to face what waited outside the dungeons.
The nursery was oddly quiet as Bran walked in, Caolan's hand tucked securely into his. The
raven-haired little boy had been loath to leave his father's side since his return from Tenobrous
and, if he was honest, his father was more than happy to have him there. It was going to take
awhile for the gut-churning fear he had felt whilst his son was lost to truly subside, especially
since he had returned only to find his wife and daughter had gone into danger themselves.
"Calima Almare," a female voice said softly.
Bran smiled, "Hello, Beth. You seem to be short on charges today."
"The others are spending time with their parents I believe," the auburn-haired nursemaid replied,
walking over towards them. "Hardly surprising under the circumstances."
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"No," he agreed. Jade eyes watched as Beth coaxed Caolan into releasing his father's hand and
heading over towards a table for a glass of Mai'Tus juice. When he was certain his son was out
of hearing, Bran looked across at the nursemaid. "And how are you? I heard what happened with
Linnis and the girls." It had been one of the first things he had asked once he had calmed down
sufficiently to think straight.
Auburn hair swirled around Beth's face as she shook her head sadly, "I'm fine, but those poor
girls. How she could do that I really don't know. They must be so scared." Anxiety and concern
were stark in her grey-green gaze. The young woman missed Drysi and Yseult terribly. The
twins had been her charges ever since she had joined the Royal Nursery in Corin and she loved
them as if they were her own blood. Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Hush, it's okay. They'll find them," Bran murmured soothingly, putting an arm around her
shoulders. He could not help but share her fears, as did nearly everyone in the Palace. One set of
children may have been rescued safe and sound, but others were still in the hands of madmen and
vengeful deities. Until the missing loved ones had been returned from whence they had been
taken there was no real hope of things returning to normal.
"Addah, what's wrong with Beth?" a small voice piped up nervously. Wide jade eyes looked up
at the adults, Caolan's fingers clutching the glass of purple juice tight to his chest.
The fair-haired elf looked down at his son and smiled reassuringly. "Nothing's wrong. She's just
a little tired and so on at the moment, like we all are."
"Oh." The boy absorbed this for a second. "Is she worried about Muirne, Drysi and Yseult?" he
asked. "Ill’har and Dera Thorn will get them back. They will set fire to Linnis's butt." Complete
trust and confidence in his family shone in his eyes. "Although... they will come back soon,
won't they?" Without his louder, more extroverted twin to support him, Caolan was feeling a
little lost. The wards that surrounded S'Hea blocked any contact with his mother and sister,
something that, until now, had never happened to him before.
"They'll be back as soon as they can, I'm sure," his father promised quietly, drawing his son to
him with one hand and hugging him.
***
Having seen Rachel and Anaya into the palace, Y’Roden struck off on his own towards the
chambers Ghetsuhm and Galain had been occupying. He had briefly peeked through the wards,
touching on his bond with Silverthorn and reassuring himself she was all right. As all right as his
wife was going to get giving the current situation. He was quiet and pensive as he started up the
spiral staircase, his mind on the children still missing, and the battle that was about to commence
in Corin. Ro had every faith in Valin, but he still wanted and needed to be there. Tallin had been
a chaotic force in their lives since before he could remember… it had to stop.
Rubbing at his eyebrows with thumb and forefinger he rounded the corner and paused for a
moment, drawing a steadying breath before continuing on down the hall. Ghet didn’t need to see
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him frazzled; she had enough to deal with.
Galain had left the council chambers shortly after Tay had left with Callan. He was still shellshocked and unhappy with her rapid departure. They'd had no time lately and it was getting to be
less than nothing of late.
And now whatever it was that had been bothering him had filled his mind with pain and
frustration. He staggered and slammed against a stone wall, not sure what was possessing him.
He wanted something to ease the pain though and the only answer he was got was a whisper that
grew louder.
Do what I say and you'll feel fine.
It kept saying that.
"What?!" Galain exclaimed, angry and rubbing his forehead.
Just do what I say. For instance, right now you should go up the staircase to your second wife's
room. She's not feeling well and the worst things possible is about to visit her.
Galain's basest instincts thought of Y'Roden and with a startled shock he moved forward. He
couldn't let that one see his wife. Not right now. Not given what he'd done before.
"Stop..." he hissed, running up the stairs as fast as he could. "Stop!"
Y’Roden paused a few paces down the hall that led to Ghet’s room, turning slightly as he heard
footsteps on the stairs. Likely the guard, who had taken to stalking him in the halls of late. He
had just turned to continue on his way when the sound of a familiar voice stopped the half-elf in
his tracks. For a moment… he could have sworn he saw Samara in the peripheral of his vision.
Startled the King shook his head to clear it, then turned towards the stairs…
“Galain?” His gaze met the Elen’s as the Prince reached the landing, “Stop what?”
"Don't go near her!" Galain gasped, he paused a moment, mentally grappling with himself, eager
to shed Y'Roden's blood, but certain this wasn't... well hells.
He rushed forward again, the dagger he'd stolen off Shadow appearing just as the Elen shoved
hard into the S'Hean and they both slid down the stairs a bit. Galain's arm and hand slid over and
then up, his breath escaping him in harsh gasps.
"Mine!" he exclaimed exultantly, but his voice was not his own.
“What the hells are you…” Ro started, then grunted in surprise as the blond elf hurtled into him.
The look in Galain’s eyes should have been a warning sign… but the S’Hean had caught it too
late. The glint of dark metal caught his eye as Y’Roden grappled with his sister’s husband and he
twisted to the side, the blade glancing off a rib, sinking through fabric and penetrating flesh as
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the Elen’s hand jabbed upwards.
Pain ignited a feral glint in the King’s eyes and he hissed, losing his footing and tumbling down
the stairs, fingers hooking in Galain’s vest and dragging the other elf with him in a tangle of
limbs as they bounced off wall, rail and stone steps, careening towards the floor below.
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Chapter 14
Ghet woke, with a stifled scream. Galain had left her to sleep, but her dreams were far from
pleasant. Pain and horror haunted her, and she woke now with the overwhelming impression that
something was wrong. She got up, wrapped herself in a robe, and went to her door. Sounds...
real, or in her head? Over her bond, through the Web, she was so tired she just couldn't work it
out.
A cry, up the stairs. Real. She walked out, and stared down. Oh no. Oh hells, no. So much of her
life, she had dreaded this. But why now? It didn't make any sense. Galain owed her life to
Y'Roden. He'd seen the half-elf in agony healing her. The shock held her stunned, immobilized.
Galain was trying to slash at Y'Roden again, grunting with pain as they ricocheted off the walls
and stairs. Blood hunger drove him, horror gripped him and something wild and inexplicable
drove him. The pain in his head was gone, but in its place was a rolling feminine laughter as the
suggestions implanted into the Elen's mind finally came to fruition.
"Mine!" Galain heard his voice yell before he lost his grip on Y'Roden and for one brief moment
his mind's eye and bond caught sight of Ghetsuhm at the top of the stairs, staring downward in
horror.
The sound of Galain's voice, wild and off-key, broke Ghet's restraint. The last vestiges of sense
stopped her charging in there, but she let her voice go. "Galain, NO! Stop!"
The Elen prince paused, one woman's voice overlapping another's. He stared into Y'Roden's
eyes, stunned, and then he shut his eyes.
"Oh gods. Oh gods, no," he said, his voice hollow. He wanted to get away now. To flee up the
stairs and away from what he'd done. A lance of pain shot through his brain and his head lolled
back.
"I won't finish it!" he exclaimed, his voice more a hoarse whisper than a cry.
***
An’Thaya pressed close to the charred wall of a building not too far from Rhodry and Mak, her
night vision focused on the walls around the barbican. The trouble here was that the Nuru’kh-ai
could see fairly clear in the dark as well, though like most species, they were not as skilled in the
night as they were by daylight. The hope here was… that surprise would catch them off balance,
and keep them that way. Soon the Dragons would fly overhead, Anelain among them… though
she had handed off command to Callan who held seniority and the benefit of millennia of
experience. Tay rankled at the thought of her daughter anywhere near the Dragon Emperor… but
even she had to admit he knew what he was doing.
As for her, the Amazons were waiting behind the Elven Archers along with the human
contingents. The Elves would take the brunt of the fight until the first sun rose… as from the
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rosy tint on the horizon betrayed… it would, all too soon… and full hour after the sunrise in
Nenlante.
The one-eyed Mercenary was quiet, relying on Mak and An’Thaya to notify him of the
movements of the Dragons and elves. As a human, especially one with a visual handicap, he was
virtually blind until dawn. Last he had heard, Valin and the others were heading for the barracks.
It was time to launch the aerial attack.
“It’s time,” Anelain whispered to Callan, her connection to the web alive with silent
communication, “They’ve reached the barracks.”
Several miles away, far from the eyes of the Nuru’kh-ai, Orcs and usurpers, Callan Blackthorn
and those of the Orsha Uni...the House Guard Akavian had brought...waited. Their ways of battle
had been explained to Anelain, who, to Callan's thinking, understood immediately. This would
be no free-for-all, no one was to break formation, no one was to succumb to the desire to peel
away and fight one-on-one. The Emperor strode through the ranks, checking with as many of his
people as he could...Whispin's agonizing humidity, long days and heavy gravity was taking its
toll on the House Guard. Without question several were told to return to the Golden Griffon and
rest and did so...as the ancient adage went, a chain was only as strong as its weakest link and the
same went for a Flight.
"We make an initial pass low over Corin, pluck any Nuru from the ramparts and towers, flame
the rest..." Callan's form began shifting as he stepped to the fore, his voice dropping from a rich,
near tenor baritone to a gravelly basso, then shifted to Speech as his half-Elven body twisted and
seemed to expand. Black wings fanned high into the air, grew enormous even as his body
became covered in onyx scales tinged with silver as he stretched to his full form.
The Emperor paused a moment, stretched like a cat that had just uncurled from a long sleep and
onyx claws dug into the rich soil as one by one he unsheathed his talons, then retracted them.
"Gods I needed that..." The Black rumbled out, "Two legger bodies are fine for SOME things..."
The Emperor shot his troops a toothy, wicked grin, "Like dinner or breakfast...or mating...but
THIS body was made for war..." A bit of dark laughter rose from the assembled guard but for the
most part, the Orsha Uni were warily watching their commander in chief. There had been a
change come over Araxmarr since he'd left the Keep before this war had started, and while many
welcomed seeing his Black nature stir in his soul again, others did not.
"Now, after we make our presence known, it should draw out a good number of the Nuru who
remain within. We bank wide, then split into two wings. I want half our forces to attack here..."
Callan visualized an area well away from the gates, "And the other half here...” An area far on
the other side of Corin was sent to those waiting, "We draw them away from the gates and drop
the hammer on them. I want you five and Anelain," Callan's massive wedge shaped head
swivelled over his shoulder as he peered around at five of the House Guard he had designated as
a smaller, independent Wing, "To mop up those who actually have sense enough to remain at
their posts and run as cover for the Amazons."
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"It's time..." Softly illuminated, ice blue eyes shifted to Anelain and the barest nod of his head
indicated he'd heard.
No further instruction was given, the Emperor's House Guard were more than a simple honour
guard for the Keep; they were trained fully in the arts of air and land based warfare and were
every bit as deadly as the infamous Black Guard. Black wings swept into the air as Callan's body
coiled in on itself, then launched into the sky. Behind him, the rest of the ranks did likewise, their
bodies fought the pull of Whispin's gravity and struggled to not only get their massive forms off
the ground, but to stay aloft once air-borne.
"Tighten it up..." Callan growled as he spiralled ever higher and watched as his forces drew into
complex, layered Flight pattern below him, "The Flight is sloppy, get the ranks tight, if we attack
like this you'll flame more of each other than the Nuru..."
Thousands of quick adjustments by all were made in a matter of seconds; the Flight drew into a
solid formation, then Whispin's dark skies split with a sucking howl and a flash of green light.
Thunder rolled over Corin as the portal ripped the skies high over the city. Jags of black, silver
and emerald power began striking the tallest towers, flowed into the stones of Corin itself and
slammed into the foundations.
Whispin's very soul fought the screaming, torn place that yawned open in the pre-dawn sky, and
from within the place between here and there, a full Flight of dragons exploded over Corin. The
city walls shook with the force of the portal being slammed shut behind the arriving Flight. The
coarse sounds of horns being blown by the Nuru sentries alerted those who were not embroiled
in the battle in the barracks, rallying them to the gates and outer defences.
Fire blossomed in an array of colours and struck the swarms of Nuru and Orc alike, igniting
some on impact while still others were left to burn from the inside out in screaming misery.
Among those of the Orsha Uni were a handful of mixed-breeds, several being of Silver lineage,
and gouts of lighting and pillars of liquid ice showered those on the ramparts. The Flight swept
over Corin, banked as expected, then rounded on the city. An unseen command had the
formation splitting into three groups, two Wings of equal size and a third, smaller group that
turned its attention on the main gates.
"Watch for cross-bow quarrels and arrows...they have dragon steel..." Glowing draconic eyes
focused on the scrambling, black-skinned and armoured troops, "The first pass had the element
of surprise...now they make ready to fight back..."
The final order was then given, and the forces from the Diirlathe plunged into full-blown,
enRaged battle:
"Kill them..."
***
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Deep in the eternal dark of the Nine Hells time staggered along and jumped in starts, a chaotic
dance of disjointed moments outside of reality. What passed as days for those outside, seemed at
first seconds, then stretched into weeks for those trapped within Haldanuru’s realm.
For the first few days he seemed to forget about Fionna, leaving her chained to the rock without
so much as a thought despite the fact that she was in plain sight when the Demon sat upon his
throne. Those that served him ignored her as well, seeming entranced with their God, and
nothing else. Before him they performed tantric dances of wild debauchery and orgiastic rituals
of bloodletting and carnal pleasures. Trays of food and goblets of wine were set before him, and
scantily clad women perched upon his lap, hand feeding him and offering up other pleasures,
following his every whim.
It was in a moment of boredom that Fionna caught his attention again, the beasts yellow eyes
raking over her form as if seeing the Elf for the first time. Tossing a naked girl from his lap the
God had stood and gestured to several serving women. They had immediately gone to do his
bidding, sluicing the blonde down with cold water and ripping the clothing from her body.
Dragged to her feet she was held immobile by two male slaves as the women languidly rubbed
hot oil over her golden skin, leaving no part untouched until Fionna stood naked and glistening
in the light of the fires.
“You should feel privileged,” one whispered wistfully, “not everyone is put in The Cage. Only
those he finds unusually beautiful… It is torture, I hear, but only for the wait you must go
through until he touches you. Weeks, sometimes, he’ll tease you… leaving you right within
view, watching him pleasure the others.”
The second woman giggled bawdily and rubbed up against Fionna invitingly, “You will make a
welcome addition to our bed,” she murmured, “just be patient… he’ll reward you eventually.”
One of the males unhooked the chain from the blonde’s collar and grabbed one oil slick arm,
dragging her forward as what looked like a giant, solid gold bird cage lowered into view. “Now
just step right in there lovely,” he grinned, “Give us all a show, it’s been a while since anyone
danced in the cage.”
The blonde half-elf's heels dug into the ground, her hands tightening against the man's arm as she
fought being thrust into the cage. "Dammit! Let me go!" Azure eyes blazed with defiance as her
head swung around to glare at Haldanuru. "I am NOT one of your playthings and not yours to
command. Get one of these other empty-headed morons to dance for you if you're so bored."
Fear added an edge to her angry words.
The male grunted in annoyance, then struck Fionna hard across the cheekbone, “How dare you
speak to a God in such a manner,” he hissed. Dark eyes alight with heretical madness flickered to
Haldanuru, “Would you like for me to kill her Milord?”
Lounging back on his throne the Demon shook his heavily horned head, “No… I like a woman
with spirit,” he drawled slowly, “put her in the cage… and we will give her a little
encouragement.”
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Immediately obedient the human shoved Fionna through the gilded door, slamming the Elf off
the bars on the other side with the force of it and slamming the door behind her.
A hissed breath escaped the young woman as her back hit the bars. Fear was lost in a wave of
pure anger, the temper she usually kept so well concealed exploding into undiluted fury. Her
deep blue eyes lit by the fires of anger darkened to sapphire as she sprang forward, gripping the
bars of the door with whitened knuckles.
"Let. Me. Out" she spat.
“Haul her up,” Haldanuru rumbled, “I think our little bird needs a little incentive… and I’m
aching to hear her sing.” One heavily muscled leg slid over the arm of his throne and he tossed
his head back as one arm came up, giving the signal to several slaves working a winch. On the
way back down his fingers snagged a goblet of wine and the Demon drank deeply as he watched
the golden cage lurch upwards, swinging wildly on its chain as it was levered over the leaping
flames of the abyss.
The design allowed the bottom to heat up sporadically, causing discomfort for the bare foot
prisoner inside, add to that, a current of electricity sent jolts through the bars, so any attempt to
climb up off the searing heat of the floor resulted in body spasming shocks. Fionna would indeed
be performing an unintentional song and dance shortly, one that her captor eagerly anticipated as
he wiped bright red rivulets of wine from his chin.
“Music,” he rumbled to his followers, “there must be music to accompany our entertainment.” At
his bidding, the drums and chanting started up again in tantric rhythm.
A startled scream escaped the blonde half-elf as a jolt of electricity shot through her hands,
throwing her away from the bars and onto the cage floor. A gasp of pain escaped her as she
landed on the mesh floor, the hot metal scoring red lines on her unclothed body. Instinctively she
pushed herself to her feet, but even then she couldn't escape. Everywhere she touched sent jolts
of electricity through her form. The rapidly heating floor threatened to burn the soles of her feet.
Pain and fear crashed together into a stomach-churning sense of rage, the chanting seeming to
keep time with frantic beat of her heart.
"No!"
Her scream echoed around the chamber.
***
Malik slipped through the door, the sound of transmutation like a muffled, ethereal sigh, his
movement swallowed by the shadows in the flickering torchlight. The barracks, usually an
orderly place filled with military men was a complete disaster, littered with weapons, broken
items and snoring Nuru’kh-ai. The fastidious Obsidian Nomad wrinkled his nose at the stench
and drew a glittering scimitar from his hip.
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The blade of the weapon was jet black, as smooth as the glass it was fashioned from. Made by
the SandShadow’s own hand from the Sands of the Obsidian Basin, moulded into the
unbreakable Obsidian Glass his people were well noted for. The edge was sharper than any
metal, and weighed much less than the average weapon. Moving with fluid grace the ebony eyed
man set to work, his expression impassive as he struck, slicing the head clean off a sleeping
Nuru’kh-ai.
A sigh whispered past his ear and he turned slightly at the waist to watch Reece come through
the door and turn to unlatch it, making way for those coming up the stairs. With a nod to E’Than
the Mercenary unsheathed a dagger and moved past Malik, grabbing a beast by its matted hair
and pulling back with a sharp tug, exposing its throat to the blade. Metal sliced through thick
black skin, releasing a bubbling line of viscous blood with expert precision come from years in
his line of work, cutting off the scream before it even managed to form.
The Knight proceeded up into the barracks along with the others. His armour made little or no
sound as he crept through the dead bodies. Strong arms clasped a Nuru’kh-ai by the throat, a
hand clasped over its mouth. With a sharp tug there was the distinctive sound of breaking bone.
Thankfully it was barely audible over the snoring. His face as ever was expressionless as he went
about his macabre job, but he only had one thing on his mind, Fionna. Once the gates were open
he would find her, tearing the castle apart stone by stone if he had to, but he would find her.
Glory kept close to Melaina as they threaded their way through the bodies. Occasionally one
caught Glory's eye and yet another Nuru’kh-ai was sent back to the oblivion it had sprung from.
But stealth was paramount here and those who preceded them were highly effective in "clearing"
the way.
Melaina held two bloodied daggers, her eyes sombre. She hated taking life, but these lives meant
nothing to her. She was angry and she was not about to show any mercy to these creatures of the
abyss. Perhaps in her mind, some of the Nuru’kh-ai bore her mother's face, hence a more savage
strike across the neck, though still stealthy and silent.
Fadil followed behind Reece, moving silently, killing without emotion. This was the easy bit.
Easier than what was to come, certainly easier than going through that rock again. A Nuru’kh-ai
woke as they passed, drew in breath to shout, and died.
As for Xraden, the god was ever one to spread Chaos, as was his wont, and the deity let out a
trilling, keening war whoop as he leapt upon a rousing Nuru. The switchblade the oddly dressed
god was carrying vanished, as did his humanoid form. An oozing, black pool of liquid seemed to
envelope first one, then another Nuru and the smaller Orcs. With each passage of the God of
Chaos, each victim seemed intact, if stunned. Seconds passed where they seemed to gather their
wits, then made to move.
Piggish eyes widened and shrill shrieks began, only to die in a gurgling, wet sound. Xraden had
not struck with them with a physical attack...instead, the very order of their bodies had been
destroyed. Chaos overloaded the fabric of their being and one by one, they began to dissolve,
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first into collapsing, twitching heaps, then into smaller gooey, motionless piles, then lastly,
dripping, viscous liquid that dribbled into every crack and cranny, then vanished, leaving no
trace behind, not even the metal of armour and weapons.
Chaos paused, reformed in his black and white zoot suit and Oakley sunglasses. A madcap grin
split his face as he looked about the barracks, the pointed at a small group of Nuru who were
battling E'Than Attar.
"You..." The group paused, as did E'Than, the borrowed blades the armsmaster carried dripped
black blood on the stone floors.
Several pairs of Nuru eyes widened, "Yes...you..." The snick of the switchblade was not lost as
the shimmering steel blade popped out, "No...not you...the big one..."
A Nuru that was attempting to flank E'Than paused with a guttural, "Eh?" and slowly turned,
only to find the switchblade barrelling through the air to strike him between the eyes.
"Look! A unicorn!" Xraden's eyes widened in false amazement, the god then vanished, only to
reappear once more as a whirling black storm that engulfed the remaining Nurus and their ilk,
living or dead, near the armsmaster.
E'Than's dark eyes watched in a mixture of relief and fear, Chaos was always viewed more as
'mischief', a nuisance force that caused havoc and harmless irritations, but after today, E'Than
would never view Xraden the same. With Chaos came Destruction, Death and Agony, with
Chaos came the unravelling of anything stable and solid, and never again would E'Than
disparage the name of Father Chaos.
Valin had reached the barrack doors that led to into the passageway between gates when hellfire
rained down from the sky. The young D’Riel’s eyes flew wide and he pressed his back flat to the
wall, peering out at the general mayhem the Nuru’kh-ai on watch had fallen into. Corin was
nearly short one Prince in that moment as a sleeping Nuru’kh-ai lurched awake and took a swipe
at the Elf’s neck with his axe. With a self-reprimanding growl Valin ducked and dodged before
driving his blade into the beast's unprotected chest.
The sleeping guard was fully awake now, though stunned and off balance. “There is our cue!”
Val grinned madly at those following him, “Let’s go!” He hoped to hells the Dragon’s had been
told not to flame anything non-Nuru’kh-ai.
***
Sounds and tactile sense seemed to intermingle and Ro’s vision narrowed, going dark for a
moment. His blood seemed to boil where the knife had slashed along his ribs, burning with more
agony that such a wound should have caused. “What have you done?” he gasped, aware right
away that something was horribly wrong, “Poison? You ass!” Anger flared for a moment and he
managed to push Galain up away from him, planting a heavy booted foot in the other elf’s chest
and shoving him across the landing.
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Memories emerged, flashing… of helpless agony… of poison searing through his veins, venom
that turned innards to jelly and rendered the victim helpless. Complete loss of control… and the
emergence of … It. “NO dammit! Gods no! Ghet! Ghet go! Go now!”
Blinded, the King of S’Hea writhed on the cold marble, smearing its pristine surface with bright
red blood as his struggles turned inwards… as it woke to the intoxicating world of pain Y’Roden
had plunged into.
Ghet was already pelting down the stairs, still unable to grasp what had happened, and running
on pure instinct. The sight of two men she loved hurting each other was too much to bear and
stand by. She just wished someone else were here; she couldn't tend them both at once. Someone
would come; they'd made enough noise, but in the meantime...
She touched Galain's shoulder, and his soul, bright with confusion and pain. She did trust him,
she just didn't understand. There would be a reason, but there was no time for that now. "Stay
here, don't go anywhere, okay?"
Oh right, he wasn't going anywhere... the kick had been enough, the confusion was disarming.
Galain just nodded dumbly.
Then Ghet turned to Y'Roden and knelt beside him, her eyes frantic, trying to assess the damage
to him, trying to work out what the hell he was saying. "Don't be an idiot, Ro, you need me, at
least until somebody else comes who can heal you. Let me look."
Then she made it as far as his eyes, and saw the fear and the war there, and finally she realised
what he meant. For a moment she froze in reflexive terror, small and vulnerable and not properly
dressed, and then she laughed, high and nervous. "Then you really do need me, don't you? Who
else is going to stop him if he gets out?"
And that was rewarded with a mad laugh from Galain of all people. The haze and pain in his
mind was clearing and he knew why he'd done this and who'd seared the suggestion into his
mind.
"Get up the damn stairs or I'll kill you both and it won't be by Samara's command," was his
hoarse response.
A dull snick and the instantaneous whine of a fired crossbow bolt emanated from the shadows
deep in the corridor. Ild'ashi's aim was true, the steel tipped bolt slammed into Galain Alcarin's
back, dangerously near his spine. The elf arched, let out a sharp cry of pain and collapsed, his
eyes going wide with pain as he realized he'd been shot.
Black pupils in bi-colored green and turquoise eyes expanded and contracted as the S'Hean
Ranger's lithe form detached itself from the darkness with the grace of a stalking feline, "What in
the name of all that is holy have you done you craven idiot!?"
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Galain opened his mouth to answer and then snapped it shut. He just held a hand up in a feeble
attempt to protect himself as a second bolt was seated and the bow's sights were trained once
again on the writhing Elen Prince, "You FOOL! You have sealed all our fates and delivered us
into her hands..." Ild'ashi's accent thickened with an undercurrent of fear and mortification and
slipped back into the dialect of the Lost whose lives were lived in Tenobrous. The dark-skinned
elf had been born in the lands of S'Hea... but had been dragged into Tenobrous when she was
little more than a half-grown woman. She had lived under the Demon Prince's crushing bootheel. Centuries of fear and distrust had to be overcome before Ash could trust Y'Roden D'Riel,
and the creature he had become with the help of Arminiea Morelen's assistance had proven
himself more than worthy of Ild'ashi's allegiance... he'd proven himself worthy of her life.
"Linger here, Ghetsuhm Alcarin, and you will think the sandworm larvae a pleasant experience...
your lack wit husband has just unleashed a slice of Nine Hells on us all... and putting it back
where it belongs," Ash never took her eyes off Galain, "Will not be so simple as a cut with a
tainted blade."
Y’Roden’s fingers caught at Ghet’s wrist and he pulled her down close, his eyes wild with pain
and the sinking knowledge that this wasn’t a battle he was going to win. His breath came in short
pants, a sheen of crimson tinged sweat breaking out across his flesh, and his words… when he
spoke, were stilted, his tone harsh, “Do… what Galain asked you to. Go… I can’t protect you
from this, and you are giving him incentive to get out. Go… now.” With the last of his strength
he pushed her away and howled in pain, twisting on the floor so that his gaze met that of Ild'ashi.
“Get my Ammah… she’ll know who to send for… and get him out of here.” The King’s back
arched, his body spasming and nearly lifting from the floor. The skin at one temple split open, a
gout of blood spraying across the marble as a bony protrusion sprouted forth and for the first
time in centuries, Y’Roden D’Riel screamed in agony.
Ghet had honestly been about to tell her husband to get bent. She couldn't leave Y'Roden like
this. She loved him, and she owed him her life so many times over it was getting ridiculous. But
that new self-doubt made her hesitate. Maybe she was wrong again.
In that moment, Ild'ashi's bolt struck home. Ghet crumpled; Ro's words the last push she needed.
There was agony in her eyes as she rose and tore herself away from Y'Roden.
She slipped under her husband's arm, knowing the pain she was causing him, and said, "Come on
then, you have to help me, I can't carry you and I'm damn well not letting anyone else touch
you." The Elen only nodded, tearing his own eyes away from Ash and concentrating on standing.
He got to his feet, a whoosh of pain escaping him.
Ghetsuhm raised her eyes to Ash's, furious even now at the woman's blindness and presumption.
"Seeing as the SandWyrm was so easy, we'll send you up for it next, shall we? I know Hell,
bitch, and if my husband is permanently harmed, you'll spend the rest of your life begging for
someone to kill you. I may be the only thing that can stop this. If it comes to that, come down off
your fucking pedestal and send for me."
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Galain gently nudged his wife, his attention riveted on Y'Roden.
"We need to go -- now," he said urgently, sick at heart as the immensity of what had been done
hit him. He didn't look at Ash again.
***
Shadow slipped into the library, allowing her eyes to adjust to the comforting darkness. The
forest elf in haled deeply, letting her eyes drift closed, a gentle smile playing over her lips. With
a soft sigh, she padded further into the large room, forest green eyes sparkling as she they
travelled over rows upon rows of books.
Reading was a passion of hers, one that she indulged in every chance that she got. It had been
something that her stepfather had nurtured; even her step-grandfather had given her a book or
two, encouraging her to decipher the extinct language. She shivered at the memory. She had
deciphered them all right, perfectly. They had been the same spells that had bound her inside that
damnable blood circle, inside the soul burning flames. From that day on, they had been engraved
into her mind so deeply that she could still hear the words being chanted, see the angled
backwards text on the back of her eye lids. Another shiver passed through her. Blagden
Llewellyn had been the only one she had ever been afraid of, even though he was weaker than
the Demoness, the thought of her didn’t hold a candle to the fear that twisted her soul in burning
agony when she thought of the Dead King.
Shaking her head, she pushed those thoughts from her mind, focusing on her self appointed task.
“M’Lady Sorntur?”
The forest elf spun around, her hand going to the dagger at her hip as she went on full alert. The
weapon was half out of its sheath before she recognized the S’Hean woman that typically looked
after her while she was in S’Hea. Shadow smiled apologetically, biting back a relieved sigh as
she slide the dagger back home. “Fa’ilte, found a retreat, eh?”
The woman shrugged slightly, a puzzled look crossing her face, “I thought you would have gone
to Corin with Princess An‘Thaya?”
Shadow shook her head, “I needed a break, let the others have all the fun. I’m worn out.” The
forest elf laughed as she looked around, “Could you help me find the history books?”
The woman nodded and turned walking towards the back of the library, “How far back?” she
asked, looking over her shoulder.
Pausing, Shadow blinked, she wasn’t certain of the dates, she didn’t even know how old
Y’Roden was, and she didn’t want to just blurt out ‘everything about Samara, Tenobrous and the
Demon Elf’. It took a moment before she realized that the other elf was looking at her peculiarly.
It didn’t look like she had much of an option though. “I’m thinking back to the first mention of
Tenobrous. I’ve been there twice and don’t know that much about it.”
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The lady nodded at the semi-sound reasoning, heading off in the right direction, “You could
probably learn a great deal from those that had been trapped there, perhaps Ash? I believe she
went with you.”
Shadow nodded, “I probably could, but I’d rather not take her attention away from her duties to
Y’Roden and the other members of the Royal Family. Besides, I’d rather not drudge up bad
memories, I’m sure returning to Tenobrous was enough,” she finished, stopping behind the other
elf as she pulled a book from the shelves, “Oh, thank you.”
The other woman smiled, “The first part is of Princess An’Thaya’s birth and the events leading
up to it. There are a few copies of Corin’s history and its time there, but most of the information
is still in Corin.”
Shadow bit back a groan as she realized that meant she would either have to return home and
head to Sha’Dar, hoping that she could find something in the library there, or ask someone that
had been in Tenobrous for information and run the risk of them pointing out to Y’Roden that she
was getting snoopy, and of course he knew her more than she liked when it came to something
like this and knew she’d be up to something. “I’m sure this will be fine,” she lied.
The woman nodded, “If there isn’t anything else?”
“Paper and a pen?” she asked a little hopefully as she seated herself, slender copper fingers
already flipping the tome open as an alarm seemed to go off in her mind. Blinking, the forest elf
shot a look towards the S’Hean then bolted from her chair, the book forgotten as she raced across
the library floor and threw open the door, watching as guards ran past.
“Selene’s Tears…”she murmured, eyes wide as she tore down the hall behind the others.
***
The world was tumbling down… or so it seemed to Tallin Modar. He woke within the walls
where he had spent his childhood, a place he had ached to see again… to feel the safety of their
familiarity. He had shed blood to be here, killed his own brothers, and committed unspeakable
acts on those of his own blood. He had thought them safe, but this morning, the very walls were
shaking, as if seeking to cast him out. Stumbling naked from the bed he shared with Mystical the
Demon Mage hurriedly tugged on his clothing and threw open the doors on the balcony, running
out to clutch the railing, then cover his head as a flight of dragons screamed over head.
“Gods dammit!” Turning round he fled back inside, running straight through the royal chambers
and out into the hall. His headlong flight took him to the southwest tower, bare feet carrying him
up the spiral stairs to a window that faced the city itself.
Dawn was stretching its bloody fingers out across the tops of the buildings, mingling with gouts
of dragon flame that illuminated the skyline. The Nuru’kh-ai lumbered about in confusion,
helpless against the barrage from above, though some had found enough wits to load their
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crossbows and climb the walls, taking aim at the great behemoths that plagued them. They had
failed to notice what now caught Tallin’s eyes… flanks of Elven Archers, their bows at the
ready, awaiting the command of… of whom?
Pale blue eyes scanned through the dim light, his human sight a handicap… It was not luck that
picked out his opponent, however. Illuminated by the rising sun she seemed to set the horizon
aflame with her hair alone. Standing atop a burnt out building, her stance arrogant, bow drawn,
stood An’Thaya D’Riel. She seemed to be looking right at him, and indeed, she was. There was
fury blazing in the depths of emerald eyes, the resolute expression of a hunted creature that has
turned on the hunter. She shifted slightly, a nearly undetectable movement of the head,
acknowledging his presence, and a smirk curled the edge of her cherry red lips.
“I…have… seen… your … death…”
The words were carefully mouthed, so there could be no mistaking them, and as he stood staring
in shock, Tay let her arrow fly. The signal lobbed a volley of missiles, a rain of death that struck
the Barbican and took out the Nuru’kh-ai attempting to line the walls.
“Vallah deg helt!” The Amazon’s command rang clear, drawing a answering battle cry from the
masses below her, human and Elven alike. A pair of crimson wings sprang out from her back and
she leapt from the roof, soaring down to disappear momentarily amongst her fellow S’Heans.
Tallin’s gaze followed her, picking out her bright red hair amongst the darker headed elves.
What was she on about? There was no way to get the gates open from the outside… Was there?
Suddenly fearful, Tallin charged back down the stairs, “To arms! To the gates you morons!”
Meanwhile, far below, Valin and his crew had emerged in the passageway, only to find
themselves pressed back into the barracks by a crowd of Nuru’kh-ai. “Where the hell did they
come from?” he hissed to Glory and Mel, “we have to get the damn gates open!”
Mel smiled, a cold, heartless expression in her eyes. "And so we will." Power shot out of her
twin daggers, frying the hearts of the unlucky pair of Nuru’kh-ai directly in front of her. Their
skin singed where the bolts had struck and she eyed them dispassionately. The next pair in front
of her soon found themselves facing a very angered half-elf.
Glory took one second to admire his sister's handiwork and then gave his cousin a crooked smile.
"We can't let her have all the fun," he said before he grinned at the Nuru’kh-ai blocking their
path and then lunged forward. "We'll cover each other!" he shouted to Valin.
The chestnut-haired elf stared at both his cousins for a moment, then shook his head and with a
wild yell, launched himself into the nearest Nuru’kh-ai, his sword curving down in front of him,
then up into the gut of his opponent. Blood and entrails splattered across the stone as he jerked
the blade back out and caught another attacking beast straight up the middle with the edge,
splaying the Nuru open from sternum to stem.
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All that Y’Roden had taught his son came flooding back in that moment and something was
triggered in the back of the young elf’s mind. A battle rage that echoed that of his father, the
mindless bloodlust that had carried Y’Roden D’Riel through many a battle, and now bore his
eldest child within its wild crescendo. When next he met Glory’s gaze, Valin’s eyes were alight
with an inner flame, his face smeared with dirt and blood, and a mad grin was plastered on his
face.
***
Mystical had awoken when Tallin left the bed, not pausing for her usual languid stretch as she
summoned her normal leather garb to her form. Her eyes were wide; shock and surprise setting
in that her daughter had so effectively closed her off from her former connections. She'd not
noticed the changes in her mind while she wore the collar, but she did now. Melaina had found
ways to cloak them all from her mind. A growl of rage was torn from her throat as she stepped
out of the room, a long kriss blade in her hand, as the sheath was strapped to her back. The
weapon had not been carried for centuries, not since she was young, but she'd always kept it
ready for the days she might need it again. Dark eyes smouldered as she watched her husband
yell out the orders to the Nuru’kh-ai.
Tallin’s gaze swept from his troops to Mystical, his eyes ablaze with indignant fury. The
Human’s hard won prize was slowly falling from his grasp, and pride dictated that he meet the
enemy head on. Kicking aside the servant that was just finishing with the laces on his boots, the
Demon Mage held out his hand, palm up, to his wife.
“Come… my Lady Wife, we will fight side by side for our Kingdom.”
Reece and Malik emerged outside the barracks at the same time, the Mercenary whirling around
to look through the closed gates. A throng of Nuru’kh-ai swarming the side doors to the barracks
met his gaze and he swore loudly.
“We have troubles of our own,” Malik pointed out, indicating the swarm of Nuru’kh-ai emerging
from the Castle itself. Another string of foul language came from his companion and the
SandShadow raised an eyebrow along with his scimitar. “If the language lesson is finished… can
we get on with this?”
Fadil had intended to stay close to Mel and Valin, but the push of battle hadn't allowed it, and he
found himself Reece and Malik. Even so; he was still keeping Ro's son safe ensuring the
Nuru’kh-ai they faced would not reach the other group. "Well, we could ask them to wait until
you're finished, but then, I think we can do two things at once. I've never seen any reason to stop
swearing to kill things." They might be out-numbered, but they were smarter, and they were
fighting for what was theirs.
Reece gave Fadil a startled look, for a moment wondering how the S’Hean had ended up with
them and he shot a look over his shoulder. “How? Well, never mind… and yes, I like to swear
and fight at the same time. It makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something. I’ll never
understand Y’Roden and that silence thing he does… I mean,” he babbled on as he sliced into an
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oncoming Orc, “a man has to get his aggressions out and sometimes hacking another body to
pieces just doesn’t cut it… so to speak.”
“Will you shut up and fight,” Malik said in an exasperated tone, “are you sure it was Tallin that
stabbed you all those years back? I half suspect it was An’Thaya trying to shut you up for once
in your life.”
“Oh very funny.”
Fadil dragged his sword out of the opponent he was kicking away; sure the ichor started to slow
his blade down, and laughed shortly. "Oh, the silence is just cause his brain is so overwhelmed
with bloodlust he couldn't make a coherent sentence if you shit! Ow! Damn! Paid him. And then
you give him brandy and you can't shut the bastard up."
The Knight didn't really get a chance to get outside the barracks when the swarm of Nuru’kh-ai
pressed them back, dividing them up. He could see the trio being pressed up against the gates but
couldn't do much about it. He had his own problems. Blood-curdling cries came from the
advancing beasts. In full armour, Jacen stood his ground, a veneer of calm, waiting for the beasts
to come to him.
It's axe raised, ready to use as a can-opener. The punch in the face came as a surprise as a
confused look crossed the Nuru’Kh-ai’s face. It couldn’t quite believe it, but didn't have much
time for contemplation as the Knight's arm came up at neck level, the vibrating blade come from
his elbow, cutting the beast's head from it's body like a knife through butter. Jacen didn't have
time to celebrate the small victory, ducking as a weapon narrowly missed him. "You'll have to do
better than that," he said in an insulting tone. His own blades blocked and cut through the far
inferior weapons of the enemy. Bodies were beginning to pile up. Inside Jacen was almost
revelling in the carnage the armour's essence driving him onwards it was almost enjoying itself.
***
“Oh my Gods, Arminiea preserve us. The voice belonged to Se’Liene D’Riel, her face pale and
wan as she entered the hallway. The Queen Mother turned to several guards behind her, “Secure
this hallway and the stairwell above. No one is to enter here, do you understand? D’Riel or not,
no one.
“Aye Your Majesty, it is done," one shaken looking guard replied, his eyes lingering overly long
on the scene in the hall before he turned his back.
Gathering her filmy skirts the S’Hean rushed forward, pushing past Ash to get to her son. Wide
emerald eyes took in Galain and Ghet for a moment, but she said nothing, merely going to her
knees, unheeding of the blood that soaked her clothing. “Y’Roden? You need to sever your
connection to the Web, do it now. Everyone within the wards can feel something is wrong. Do
you understand me?"
Glazed eyes flicked up to meet his mother’s gaze and Ro opened his mouth, though no sound
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came out. He seemed to understand though and the blaring alarm along the Web eased
somewhat. Enough so that Se’Liene could think clearer at least. “Ild'ashi," she turned to meet the
other Elf’s bi-colored gaze, “you must go to Corin. Bring me Fadil Elgerig and Callan
Blackthorn. Tell An’Thaya what has occurred but say nothing to B’Elya. Understood?"
Ild'ashi Rotheld was normally a quiet, calm natured elf. Life in Tenobrous had been a fight to
survive every day and returning once again to the lands of her early childhood after centuries
spent in darkness and under the rule of the Demon Prince had seemed like being taken to
Paradise. After that, little had been able to anger her. Bi-colored eyes locked onto to Ghetsuhm;
the Ranger had known Y'Roden D'Riel though almost every stage of his life, and frankly, was
not impressed with Ghetsuhm's prattling.
Ash knew what was happening to Y'Roden, just as surely as one felt the changing of summer
into fall, though this change was not as gentle or pleasant, and the approach of winter would be
far more enjoyable than the changes that were happening to their new King.
The Ranger's sights remained on Galain Alcarin and his wife could merrily join them all in the
hell that was approaching if she was so eager to do so...but if the blonde elf made a move of any
sort near Y'Roden again, the next bolt would find itself between his eyes. At the sound of the
Queen Mother, Ash's eyes went to the dark haired woman, who while so frail, seemed to find an
inner strength that even the Ranger didn't have.
"Yes, Your Majesty. It is understood." The crossbow lowered slowly and Ild'ashi dropped
quickly to one knee and rose in one fluid move, then set off at a sprint. Well away from the scene
behind her, an Aethyr illuminated portal yawned open, then shut with a quiet sucking sound...and
the S'Hean Ranger found herself dropped from one sort of battle to another altogether....
Adarin appeared at that moment, descending down the stairs looking rumpled and worried. He'd
slept far longer than he'd expected, disappointed when he awakened to find Tay already gone.
His heart felt as empty as the space in the bed she'd left. And then the Elen King felt the
shocking alarm across the Web. He paused when he saw the scene before him. He stepped
toward Se'Liene and Y'Roden once, stopped and realized that mage as he was, this was definitely
not his area of expertise. As it was, he saw Ghetsuhm out of the corner of his eye, staggering as
she sought to support Galain. Adarin's breath sucked in sharply as he saw the blood on Galain's
hands. He knew suddenly whose blood that was. His nephew's face was ashen, and Adarin
moved swiftly to the couple, grimacing when he saw the bolt in Galain's back.
"You're both too weak to be supporting each other," he said softly.
Ghet's anger was dissipating, the look she turned back on Y'Roden full of grief and worry. She
wanted to be with him so much. The sight of Adarin brought a small sliver of relief. "I'm okay,"
she told him, "but I have to get Galain somewhere where I can help him." She'd been wrong,
there was someone she would let help her with her husband.
Seeing what was happening to Ro, what it was doing to his mother, was crushing her. "And I
really need to get out of here."
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Adarin merely nodded, intent on getting them up to a room -- wherever he'd been assigned.
"What the hell is going on?" a startled voice asked as Bran was halted in his rather abstracted
wandering of the corridor by a determined looking S'Hean. Jade eyes widened as they took in the
blood staining the floors. "Sweet merciful goddess..."
Se’Liene’s head lifted and she turned slightly, “Let him through Lenten. Bran, come here, I need
your assistance. Keep the girls back,” the Queen Mother added as she caught sight of Mena and
Vanyalin in the hallway.
“Addah?” Vanya’s wide green eyes were focused on Galain and she protested violently as a
S’Hean wrapped an arm around her waist and forcibly removed her. “What the hell is going on!
Addah! Put me down! Ki! Make him put me down!”
The D’Riels within the wards all seemed to be coming out of the woodwork, and this was the last
thing Y’Roden would want any of his children, nieces or nephews to see. Something Se’Liene
was painfully aware of. “He is heavy,” she said to the platinum haired elf, “but he has to be
moved somewhere more secluded…”
Assessing which floor they were on, she turned and addressed one of the Home Guard. “I want
you to clear out the Great Hall, and place the Home Guard outside of it.” She lowered her tone as
Galain was moved up the stairwell, “I also want Guards stationed in my son-in-law’s chamber,
and I don’t care what protests Ghetsuhm OR Princess An’Thaya make. Am I clear? If he tries to
come near my son again, their orders are shoot to kill. Do. Not. Hesitate.”
Adarin turned his head just once, barely catching those last words. He was bursting with
questions that would have to wait until they were up the stairs.
Without a word Bran slipped passed the guards and dropped to one knee beside Y'Roden. "Aren't
you glad we didn't get to find out how edible you were before? You would have missed all this
excitement," the fair-haired elf said wryly. His humour was a mask for his inward concern
however, and he thanked whatever Gods were listening that his sister was not here at present.
Se'Liene wouldn't have had to worry about guarding her son from Galain. The Elen Prince would
already have been joining his ancestors in the twilight realm.
Slipping an arm around the half-elf's shoulders, he began to lever him up off the floor.
Shadow all but slid to a halt on the landing, getting only a glimpse of Y’Roden through the stand
of guards. She stared at the blood, her forest green eyes wide at the sight; they narrowed
suddenly as she caught a few of Se’Liene’s words. They were enough for her to get a drift of
what had happened, the conclusion of which uncovering a deep seated hatred that had only flared
a few times in her life and the dawning knowledge that came one night that she wouldn’t have
hesitated in killing Galain with her bare hands. Luckily she didn’t have that choice to make,
though who was the luckier for it she wasn’t sure.
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The forest elf shook her head for a moment to clear her mind. There wasn’t anything she could
do to help Ro right then, or was there? Her eyes flickered towards the Queen Mother as she made
her way towards a struggling Vanya and the guard that looked like he had his arms more than a
little full.
“Vanya! Calm down, screeching like a banshee isn’t going to help anyone! Vanyalin Alcarin!
Mena! Come help me with Vanya!”
Mena startled out of the shocked stupor she had gone into at the sight of her Father being helped
up the stairs by Adarin and Ghet, turning to stare blankly at Shadow for a moment. “What? Oh!
Van? Come on sweetie… we’ll take the long way around and see what we can do for Addah.
Ok?” She cast a grateful look in the Taurësúlë’s direction and reached for Vanya as the redhead
broke down into tears.
“What happened?” the youngest Alcarin choked, “there is so much blood…”
The same thought was running through Se’Liene’s mind, the pale green skirts of her S’Hean
gown were flushed red with it. How Y’Roden could still be conscious was beyond her, but he
was aware, the look in his eye disturbing as Bran hauled him up. The Queen Mother attempted to
steady him, but her son’s weight was to great for the weakening woman.
A familiar face beyond the guards brought a wave of relief, “Shadow?” Se’Liene was well aware
that Y’Roden had a soft spot for the young forest elf, and had been more than happy to help draw
up the papers that had allowed him to legally adopt her. She was… technically, a grandchild to
her, and one of the few that Y’Roden trusted with his secret. “Let her through. Can you help
Bran please Shady? I need to open a portal to the Hall… I can’t do both.”
“I don’t know, aidan, but it’ll be all right,” Shadow looked up at her name, nodding to Se’Liene
as she did so, then returned her attention back to the young elf, “It’ll be all right.” Briefly she
hugged the redhead and squeezed Mena’s arm.
Quickly ducking under the guard’s arm before he had a chance to get completely out of the way,
she made short work of the distance and slipped under Y’Roden’s other arm. Her usual habit of
cracking jokes during a crisis was lost in the seriousness of the matter.
Vanyalin calmed a bit, steadied by the calm demeanour of her sister and adopted cousin…
though she still thought of Shadow as more of a sister. She returned the other woman’s embrace
and watched her slip off past the guards before letting Mena draw her away.
“D’Anke,” Se’Liene murmured gratefully to Shadow, then met her son’s crimson-laced gaze. An
involuntary shudder wound down the Queen Mother’s spine… memories of centuries spent in
the icy dark of Tenobrous… of the atrocities committed by the horror that wore the guise of her
eldest child. Gods…. This couldn’t be happening… The bony protrusion at his temple worried
her… what was it?
An explosion of emerald green Aethyr blossomed from a pinpoint of light, forming a
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shimmering portal that revealed the Great Hall on the other side. She stepped through, making
sure the Guards had indeed cleared the hall, then beckoned Bran and Shadow to follow.
***
Fire and Storm rained down on the City of Corin. The thermal patterns of Nuru’kh-ai were
focused on, though the occasional injury to various Elven kind and Amazon's was inevitable...yet
fortunately rare. At some point, an enterprising band Nuru’kh-ai had managed to overcome their
own ignorance and began incorporating the use of Corin's catapults on the attacking Dragon-Kin.
By luck alone, one of the fired spears slammed home behind the shoulder of a larger, tarnished
toned Black. Vital organs ruptured with the embedding spear's passage, for while the weapon
was not tipped in Adamantine, ordinary steel could still accomplish mortal wounds.
A scream of agony was cut off by a wheezing squawk as it fell, only to slam into the wall from
which the Nuru’kh-ai stood, its body weighing several tons crushed the merlons, the enemy and
their weapons. Below, a newly arrived Elf with bi-colored eyes looked up, then began to curse
fluently as she scrambled for safety. A groaning, cracking sound seemed to follow Ash as she
ran, "Sweet Jaran...oh gods have mercy..."
Se'Liene hadn't mentioned one thing about Corin being fully engulfed in battle...and Ash had
arrived in very centre of it all. Fleet Elven feet carried her over charred bodies filled with elvish
arrows and behind her; the wall slowly gave way with regal grace. Bits of stone began to fall,
chips of mortar and finer grains of grit and pulverized rock as the dying dragons gave up the last
of his life and went limp. As fast as she was, she wasn't going to make it...Ash could feel the
stones collapsing, could feel the air closing in tight, aquamarine eyes lifted to the heavens and
saw the most unexpected thing.
Onyx jaws were mere yards away from her, their maw hanging wide to reveal the rows of dagger
sharp teeth and crushing molars far in the back. The acrid smell of smoke and burnt oxygen
overwhelmed her, then darkness followed. The Black in question had snapped her up in his jaws
from a full dive and was winging back to the questionable safety of the dawn skies.
"And before you rattle off some smart assed quip..." Callan Blackthorn's unmistakable rumbling
basso flooded her mind, "I brushed my teeth this morning...Hey...could you...yeah...there seems
to be a bit of apple peel stuck waayyyy back there...would you mind?"
The rescued elf had either died of a heart attack or was petrified, Callan thought. Good
gods...I've killed her... Callan shook his enormous, angular head like a child shaking its fist to see
if an ensnared fly was still alive and was rewarded with a burst of light and lancing pain that
raced through his skill...Ild'ashi Rotheld was not impressed with her saviour and had rammed a
belt knife right between the teeth in question.
"Aye...but it seems to be lodged a little..." Ash jammed the dagger again, "too tightly...Oh
loook...are these...fillings?"
"AAAGGGGGHHHH...NO! THEY ARE NOT...." A bellow and agony rolled out between
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Callan's scaly dragon lips as he hovered just out of reach of any bolts. "KNOCK IT OFF! OW!"
Like a massive dog with a rag in its mouth, Callan's head shook side to side and the Black was
rewarded with more pain, the blade was poking the bed of his mouth beneath his tongue.
"Let me OUT DRAGON! YOU are needed back in Nenlante...as is the Princess..."
"OKAY OKAY! I'll...Nenlante?"
There was a long moment of silence, then, "Why?"
As Ild'ashi's muffled tones explained what had happened in the Elven palace, topaz eyes focused
on the city below. His Guard were now dropping from the skies in both two-legger form and
four. Flame still sizzled and lightning still cracked the stones and any Nuru nearby. Callan then
saw the form of Tallin Modar...and whore of a woman who had turned traitor appear in the midst
of the battle.
"That sonnofabitch..." A loud growl reverberated off the dragon's teeth and shook Ash's innards
about. The feeling of the world upended left her scrabbling for purchase as the massive Black
Emperor dropped into a dive.
"NOOOOOO! YOU IDIOT BLACK! AN'THAYA! WE HAVE TO GET HER! DON'T YOU
UNDERSTAND?"
A hissing, gaseous sound began seeping to her ears...HOLY MOTHER OF LIGHT?!? What was
he doing?
Tallin Modar’s head snapped up and he gaped for a split second before shoving Mystical behind
him. “That bloody Black is becoming a insistent pain in the ass,” he hissed, the blue of his eyes
bleeding black as the dark magic he thrived upon came to the fore. The loose black shirt he wore
whipped in a non-existent wind, tossing his long locks of ebony hair about his face as the Mage
lifted rigid arms that crackled with black lightning, “its rather large… but I think his head would
look rather interesting mounted on the Throne Room wall. What do you think my love?”
Mystical placed her hands on Tallin's shoulders, drawing more power and adding it to his. "I
think it would look lovely… Perhaps we could make a display and add a crimson and a blue to
the sides?" Her voice was a quiet murmur in his ear, the reference to her daughter and her former
lover one she wouldn't have made even hours before.
“What is taking so long,” B’Elya muttered to An’Thaya, the small redhead bouncing with
impatience as she eyed the outer gates that remained stubbornly closed. “You can fly… why
don’t you flutter over and open them?”
The Amazon stared at her little sister for a moment, “and how, pray tell… am I suppose to open
the gates and fight off a troop of Nuru’kh-ai at the same time?”
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“So take me with you… I’ll open the gates, you fight off the Nuru’kh-ai.”
“You know,” Tay said in a droll tone, “If there was any every doubt that you are my sister… it’s
gone now.” She eyed the walls, “It takes two grown men to lift one of those bars… how do you
intend to get the gate open all by yourself?”
“I intend to cheat,” Belle said calmly, “can you fly me over or not?”
An’Thaya bit her lip and eyed the smaller woman, “I guess there is only one way to find out.
Rhodry, give me a boost.”
The one eyed Merc turned his head and looked down at the Princess of Corin, “Pardon me?”
“You heard me, lean down here, cup your hands, be a good little Lord, and toss me upwards.”
Balancing one hand on the human’s shoulder she stuck a booted foot in his hands and grinned at
him, “push hard… I’m sure you are an expert at that concept.”
He nearly flat out dropped her at that point, then bunched heavy corded muscles and tossed the
tiny redhead upwards.
“Nicely done,” Belle commended Rhodry as her sister catapulted upwards, “you might have
aimed out of the archers line of fire though.”
The blonde man winced and covered his eye as several bolts shot past the airborne redhead, “Did
she make it?…. Princess Belle?” Uncovering his eye the Mercenary looked about in confusion.
Now where had she gone so fast?
***
Once in Galain's rooms Adarin wasted no time in settling his nephew face down on the bed. His
eyebrows rose when several guards entered the chamber and positioned themselves at various
spots. Their hard eyes and ready stance had the Elen King giving Ghetsuhm a wild look.
"What exactly happened? Do you know?" he asked.
"I tried to kill him," Galain answered first, his voice muffled against the bed's mattress. "I can't
explain it. I just know I tried to kill him." Adarin's eyebrows rose and then he shook his head. He
was biting his tongue, uncertain of what to say until the prince explained himself.
"Shall we clean him up and get that thing out?" he said to Ghetsuhm, choosing for the moment to
ignore his nephew's words.
Ghet nodded shortly. She was furious, and there was nowhere to direct her anger. "I'll do it. You
hold him down for me. Oh gods, hang on a minute."
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Rhagi. Go the nursery and stay there. Please, sweetheart. She would rather have had him with
her, but that would be too dangerous for him. Samara might want her son kept alive for his
genes; the demon-elf would want him dead, for the same reason. She knew she was scaring
Rhagi, but she'd rather have him scared than dead.
Then she turned back to her husband, her eyes tight with pain. "This is going to hurt. Just do
what I tell you and don't argue with me." She shut her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't
angry with him, and she knew his capacity for self-blame. She needed to calm down. "Please."
Galain managed a half nod of sorts and instinctively grabbed the sheets with clenched fists.
She put her hand in his boot and took out his hunting knife. "I'm going to cut the bolt out. It's
quite close to your spine, so you really need to try not to jump when I cut. Adarin, can you put
your hands on his shoulders?" She bent to the task, muttering darkly. If she ran into Ash any time
soon, she probably was going to kill her. She put up with the guards in here because if the demon
came for her, they might actually be some use.
She moved into Galain's soul without mercy and took all the pain as she cut. It stopped him
moving involuntarily, but it was also her punishment, for not being with Y'Roden right now. Her
anger insulated her from some of it.
She drew the bolt out and threw it away. It clattered at the feet of one of the guards, who never
flinched. She'd mush his brain against the inside of his skull if she had to. Remorse would come
later. "You can let him go now, while I heal him."
Adarin gently released Galain and then lay a hand on Ghetsuhm's wrist.
"It's too soon for you, please let me help," he said. "I'm more than a strong set of arms you
know." There was just the barest hint of a smile.
Ghet jerked her hand away and looked up at her husband's uncle in fury. "And I'm more than just
nice frontage! He's my husband, and I'll..." She caught herself, trembling on the edge of tears. In
Adarin's face she could just see the same frustrated sense of uselessness that was tearing her
apart. "I'm sorry. But if anyone else tells me what to do today, I swear I'll rip their tongue out. Go
ahead."
She reached down, and pushed the hair out of Galain's eyes. "I'm right here, love. And I love
you." For five minutes, surely, she could concentrate her attention here.
Adarin's face had turned to stone when Ghetsuhm verbally lashed back at him. He simply
nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The elf who happened to be a king longed to retreat back
to Alcarinque and never leave his home again. He set to work, weaving healing energies together
as he focused on his nephew's wound, barely conscious of the pair, even when Galain managed
to murmur something to his wife.
A soft knock at the door and Mena poked her head in, the young Elf’s sea green gaze darkening
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with worry as it settled on her father. “Dagar… is it alright if we come in?” she asked, making
room for Vanyalin who ducked under her arm, then pushed past a guard to get to the bed.
“Addah? Are you alright?” Emerald greens still wet with tears met Ghet’s denim gaze Galain’s
youngest daughter crawled carefully up onto the bed to hesitantly touch his golden locks.
“Daddy? Oh my gods… there is so much blood,” she whispered and turned a pleading look on
her Great Doro. “Can I help somehow?”
Ghet slipped an arm quietly around Vanya's shoulders, glancing across at Mena. "He'll be fine,
honey. Hell, I've done worse than this to him myself, and I'll bet your Ammah has too." It was
good to be reminded that she wasn't the only one hurting over Galain, but Vanya's tears were
destroying her own composure.
Adarin was nearly finished with the healing, and looked up at Vanya, his eyes slightly glazed
from concentration.
"He'll be okay," was all he said before he returned to his work. "Physically. I'm glad you're both
here." His voice sounded leaden to him.
Vanya leaned her head onto Ghet’s shoulder and managed a smile for Adarin. If they said her
Father was going to be ok… she believed them. The tiny redhead brushed her father’s sweat
damp hair away from his forehead before looking up at Mena who had fallen silent near the door.
The older girl looked unsettled still, despite the reassuring words of her stepmother and Uncle.
“Where is Ammah?” she asked finally, “why isn’t she here?”
"She's fighting," was Galain's muffled reply. "She's at Corin. Fighting Tallin." He felt Adarin
still and he stirred a little, trying to catch a better glimpse of Ghetsuhm and Vanya. He knew
Mena was near the door by the guards, but he couldn't see her. "She left earlier this morning."
Adarin hadn't resumed healing and Galain didn't expect him to finish. "I saw her at the end of a
council meeting this morning. She's... fighting." He caught twinges of what his first wife was up
to. He kept thinking optimistically.
"The battle is hard," he barely whispered. It wasn't entirely clear of which battle he spoke.
***
Valin kicked an Orc off the end of his blade as he finally reached the gatehouse and cast a wild
look over one shoulder at his cousins. “Mel! Hold those last few off! Glory and I will raise the
portcullis!” He was already through the door and scanning the room for enemy before grabbing
hold of the winch, “Keep an eye out,” he gasped to his cousin, jerking his head upwards. There
were murder holes in the ceiling here, and several floors above. There was no telling what lurked
up there at the moment. Glory nodded, the back of his neck prickling as he realized how exposed
they were at the moment.
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“Dammit,” he swore whilst raising the portcullis, “why does this castle have so many bloody
gates? We still have another to go at the barbican and the outer gate to let the main army in. At
least Malik and Reece can get through the innermost gates when they need to. He startled in
surprise as someone landed just outside the door, then breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar
sight of Anelain. She winked at her cousin and bolted for the rising portcullis.
“Come on Mel!” she yelled back at her sister, “Help me raise the bar!”
Mel finished off the Nuru’kh-ai she'd been toying with and hurried under the portcullis with
Anelain. Slight amusement sparkled in her eyes as she grinned at Valin and Glory. "You two can
hold them off now..."
Glory would have stuck his tongue out at his older sister, but there simply was no time. Besides,
something might have swiped it off and that would have sucked.
Belle hit the cobblestones with an oomph, her Octagon Sai already drawn and at the re