Date: 2014-01-04 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Magic; High Fantasy; dragons; Elves
Description: The dragons rage, a god betrayed, the truth of fire and a queen's desire. In this fifth novel in the 'Book of One' series, the power of the shadow grows, spreading darkness across the lands as the god prepares for war. The warrior's journey turns upon a question of fate, ancient oaths are broken, and the shadow lies in wait, as the truth of fire is revealed.

THE BOOK OF ONE

A Broken Throne

by

Jordan Baker

COPYRIGHT

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and events contained herein are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Other than historical characters, any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright 2014 by Electrum Press and the Author.

All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without express permission of the publisher.

For more information, visit www.electrumbooks.com

Kindle Edition: January 2014

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their contents) that are not owned by the publisher.

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

CHAPTER ONE

Dark grey clouds, flashing with light and echoing thunder rolled across the early morning sky as night retreated and the world turned to mist. Cold and wet, chilling to the bone, the raw sensations of the world faded as he turned his thoughts inward, feeling the warmth of blood, the steady rhythm of his heart and the burning power of his essence.

Yet, deep down, hidden within, lay the shadows, like flames of black ice, tendrils spreading outward, consuming the light and darkening life. Like a blot of ink spilled upon a clean scroll, bleeding slowly across the surface and sinking deep into the fibers, the shadow continued to grow.

Life, energy, power, the essence of being, fed the dark flames, their nature a contradiction, for the shadows were the opposite of fire, an absence of light and heat, growing, eating away at the flame of existence itself, leaving less than nothing behind, not even the bitterness of ash, only the emptiness of oblivion.

A chill ran up his spine as Aaron opened his eyes, pulling his senses away from the dark absence at the core of his being, and he was greeted by the concerned expression on Ashan's face.

"You now know the workings of the shadow," the old man said, though his statement was more of a question.

"No," Aaron answered with a frown. "I can feel it and I can see it, but there is still much that I don't know."

"That is a wise answer." Ashan smiled. "Knowing is but the first step on the path to truth. Admitting what you do not know is a good place to begin if one is to truly come to know a thing. If you are to truly know your power, then you must truly know yourself, but if you are to stop the shadow, then you must know it as well."

"It is the Ansari way, to know oneself," Aaron said.

"It is," Ashan said. "It is Ansari, to know oneself and to be true within, but you are different in some ways, Aaron, thus your challenges are also different. You must come to know more than yourself."

"Please, Ashan. Tell me how am I different?"

"We have already spoken of this, Aaron," Ashan said. "Though I know a great many things, I do not know all, and the answers I might give you could be the cause of even greater troubles, so let us keep focus on the problem at hand. What have you learned of the power of the shadow within you?"

"It is elusive," Aaron said, closing his eyes once again, feeling the power and the darkness within him. "If I try to touch the shadows with my power, it only steals my power and makes the darkness grow. If I try to touch my power, the shadow reaches out and grasps me, trying to take hold. It is a strange sensation, for even though it hungers for my power, the shadow itself feels like nothingness."

"That is the folly of the dark power. Though it seeks the light, it cannot exist without it. Thus, in essence, it destroys itself and everything else."

"Why would the shadow do this?" Aaron asked. "Why would it destroy itself?

"Perhaps that is its purpose, or perhaps it has no purpose," Ashan said. "Knowing the shadow is a contradiction, for to know the shadow is to be destroyed by it."

"There must be some way to stop it," Aaron said.

"The shadow can be destroyed, Aaron," Ashan told him. "It takes great power to burn it away, but they too involve great destruction. As for the shadow within you, only you may defeat it, if you are to live."

"So if I were to die, then the shadow could be destroyed," Aaron said. "That is what the Ansari wanted to do."

"Ansari abhor the shadow, for in the sight of truth, the dark power is a lie," Ashan told him. "To know Ansari is to be true in all things."

"Isn't changing your shape like lying?" Aaron asked.

Ashan chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement at the question.

"Your boots, they are black, yes?"

"Mostly," Aaron said, looking at the scuffed pair of leather boots that had once been shiny black when Lady Valaymr had them made for him. "Yes, they're black."

"And if you were to put on another pair, that were brown, would you no longer be you?"

"Of course not," Aaron said.

"How is it any different what shape one takes, if one's being remains true?"

"I suppose that makes sense."

"You are you, so long as you are true," Ashan replied.

"But if the shadow takes hold of me again, then I won't be me," Aaron said.

"That is why the shadow is reviled, for it turns truth to lie, light to dark, and, it seeks to destroy all things. That is why the shadow must be destroyed."

"What if I can't destroy it?" Aaron asked. "There must be some magic that can block it, or contain it, like the ward that Stavros put on me when I was young."

"There are ways to slow the shadow's course, but they are not lasting," Ashan replied. "The problem is one involving the nature of being. You were blocked from your power for many years, and this stopped the shadow from growing for a time, but Stavros has told me that the magic he used eventually became twisted and misshapen, causing you great pain.

"The mage believes this was caused only partly by the influence of the shadow, while the true issue was your power itself, building up inside of you, which is natural and more pronounced for one who is coming of age. That this ward spell failed does not surprise me, for such a spell is one of denial and it is Ansari belief that denial of self is a lie that ultimately leads to the shadow. Since the shadow exists already within you, and your power would have continued to grow, it would have overcome this magic either way. At best, Stavros' spell protected you from accidentally giving your power to the shadow, though his intent was to hide you. It was fortunate and allowed you to live free of such worries, but it is no longer possible to do such a thing, for your power has grown too great for such magic, and it will not be denied. Your power grows within you and will manifest itself if you do not use it, and when that happens, it will feed the shadow, and likely in unexpected ways."

"So, if I deny my power, then it will feed the shadow anyway, but if I don't deny my power, and I use it, then I will feed the shadow directly," Aaron said, frustrated.

"It is a conundrum," Ashan said. "But you are not beaten yet. There is hope that you will find an answer, in time."

"And if I don't?" Aaron wondered how much time he truly had.

"If you fall prey to the shadow, then my people will hunt you."

"Why don't the Ansari hunt down Cerric and this god that inhabits him?" Aaron asked, irritated that he should be singled out by the powerful shapeshifters.

"I believe we will, however it is easier to say a thing than it is to do a thing. It is no simple thing to kill a powerful god, and the shadow is difficult to destroy. It cannot be done so easily."

"Why not?"

Ashan smiled.

"Ah, that is the eternal answer to the question of life," he said. "You are coming to know Ansari."

"A question is an answer?" Aaron frowned.

"In the search for truth, every answer is merely the start of another question."

"Now I am confused," Aaron said as he puzzled what the old man had said. "Not everything is a question. On a bright and sunny day, were you to ask me if the sun is in the sky and I said yes, then I would have given you an answer. There is no question there."

"True, but is the sun truly in the sky or is it beyond the sky?" Ashan asked and he seemed amused by the bemused expression that appeared on Aaron's face. "If I asked you if the sun appeared to be in the sky, you could answer that it did, but that is only a question of appearance and has little to do with the truth. It is grey and cloudy this morning, and you cannot see the sun, but you would still say it is there, would you not?"

Aaron looked up at the grey cloudy sky and though it was true that he could not see the sun, he could still feel its warmth and see the light it cast.

"Of course it is there. If it weren't, it would be night."

"Yes, but you cannot see it."

"It is day and there is light, so I know it is there."

"And you are sure that it is the sun that lights the sky this day?"

"What you mean?"

"Could it be something else that lights the sky? Perhaps the clouds themselves give the world light while the sun is resting somewhere."

"I have seen the clouds part on days such as this and the sun is always there," Aaron said. "I do not see the point of wondering such things when we both know the answer."

"The point," Ashan said, holding the tips of his fingers together, considering his words. "The purpose is to consider that what we perceive is not necessarily the truth of a thing. You perceive the light of day, but you only suppose it is the sun that makes it. You cannot be sure of it, unless the clouds were to part and reveal the sun. Until then, you believe it is there, which is perhaps practical, but while it may be true, it is not necessarily true."

"How could it not be true? What else would make for day and night?"

"Many things," Ashan replied. "As I said, the light on a cloudy day could come from the clouds themselves, or perhaps from magic spread across the sky. You have seen the energy that courses through the dark clouds of a storm, the lightning that flashes. There is much power there, is there not? "

"That's true," Aaron said. "But I am fairly sure that it is the sun that lights the world."

"So you are fairly sure, but not completely sure." Ashan gave him an amused look. "Let us accept that it is the sun. Tell me, what is the sun?"

"The sun?"

"Yes," Ashan said. "What is it?"

"It is the sun," Aaron said.

"Yes, but we have decided that it lights the sky and warms the world, so what then is it? What is it made of? Is it a luminescent disc that floats high in the sky or is it a ball of fire so hot that it would burn away the world if it were not so far away?"

"A ball of fire?" Aaron had always imagined that the sun was a large, warm, brightly shining lantern in the shape of a dinner plate, and it had been described as such in a few of the books he had read, but the more he thought about it, the less sure he felt about that idea

"You have the power of fire," Ashan continued. "Could you burn your power enough to light the sky and warm the world if the sun were to disappear?"

"Light the sky?" Aaron thought about it for a moment and he wondered how much energy it would take to create light and warmth over such a large area. "I don't know. Even if I could make such a fire, it would probably burn everything."

"Such a thing would be very likely, unless the fire was far away," Ashan suggested.

"A fire that bright would have to be very far away."

"Yes, and the further away it was, the more of the world it would shine upon, much the way a lantern held high lights more of the ground."

"I understand what you are saying," Aaron replied. "But even if I could burn my power enough to light the world, how would I stay in the sky?"

"How does the sun? It travels across the sky every day, does it not?" Ashan said. "It always moves in the same direction."

"True," Aaron agreed.

"And what does that suggest?"

"I don't know." Aaron thought about the old man's question. "Perhaps it is a lantern that moves across the sky and then is snuffed once it has shined upon every part of the world."

"Ah, yes, but it does not snuff out, it falls past the edge of the world."

"And then it is snuffed," Aaron said, though he was not so sure of it.

"The edge of the world that you can see changes when you move from place to place, does it not?"

"It does," Aaron said, looking through the mist and clouds toward the horizon, which he could not even see on such a grey day.

"So where is the edge of the world?"

"Far away?"

"Or is there no edge?" Ashan asked. "Perhaps the world is a sphere, round like a ball and the sun travels around it."

"I hadn't thought of that," Aaron admitted.

"Most people do not, for it is outside of their perception," Ashan replied. "If the world is a ball, then perhaps it is not the sun that moves across the sky, but the world that turns, while the sun stays fixed in its place."

Aaron thought about it for a moment and he realized that what the old Ansari was saying could be true, and indeed something in him knew it was likely true, even though much of what he had learned of the world might suggest otherwise.

"I think I understand what you are trying to teach me," Aaron said. "It is the difference between what I can see with my eyes and what might be the truth of things."

"Yes," Ashan said, his wizened face cracking a wrinkled smile. "That is exactly my purpose."

"But what does it have to do with my power and the shadow?"

"If you are to overcome the shadow within you, you must first learn to perceive beyond what you see, both with your eyes and with your power," Ashan said. "The shadows play tricks, but there are also ideas and perceptions that you may have learned that could blind you to the true nature of both the shadow and your own power."

"I suppose that is why Stavros and Zachary wanted to teach me," Aaron said. "I should have listened to them more."

"Perhaps," Ashan said. "I do not wish to speak ill of the wisdom of the mages, and they do have much knowledge, but your power is different from theirs in a way, so perhaps it is better that you come to understand it for yourself."

"I think I understand," Aaron said. "The power of the mages is like a river, flowing in one place and it can be taken and turned into lines and patterns. I can do this the same way, but the power of the Ansari is in everything, in every part of me, the way water fills a lake, right up to the shore. It is always there. Ever since I fought the Ansari chief, my power has felt different from the magic I have learned, as though there are two parts to it."

"That is a good way to describe it, though I am surprised you would use water to do so, since you have so much fire within you," Ashan said. "It is true, you are like the mages, and like Ansari as well, but there is another aspect to your power, one which you have not yet perceived."

"What aspect is that?" Aaron asked.

Ashan paused, staring at him for a moment, carefully weighing his words before answering.

"There are things that I can see that you do not yet perceive, things that mages and Ansari can see, and other things, different things, that very few others can see. You are different, Aaron, but I cannot tell you more than that," Ashan said.

"Why?" Aaron asked. "Why not just tell me what is it that you can see?"

"That I cannot do, Aaron."

"Why not?"

"If you are to truly know your power, then you must learn of it yourself," Ashan told him. "I cannot tell you the answers, but perhaps I can help you find them. And I can also help you learn to use your power in the way of Ansari, a way for you to fight without feeding the shadow."

"Stavros wants to teach me about magic, and I have learned how to do some things, but now I can't take that risk," Aaron said. "If I can learn to use my power like the Ansari, then there might be a way to fight he shadow within me, but if there is another way, then why can't you just teach me what I need to know?"

"What do you think we are doing here, right now?" Ashan asked, then he sighed, remembering how little Aaron knew of magic and the other powers in the world. "The mage's way to knowing is through study and structure, and there is much you might learn from such a path, but you must remember that the knowledge they impart is arranged according to how they perceive their power and the world."

"So you are saying that they might not be able to see some things?"

"Perhaps." Ashan frowned a little. "It is more that they perceive things differently, according to their way. Whether it is something they have learned or simply because of the way their power manifests is a good question, and one I cannot answer, for it is possible that the mages see things that Ansari do not. Of that I am not entirely sure, but I am certain that Ansari perceive many things that most mages do not, just as Ansari may not perceive some things that mages can see."

"So if I learn from both Ansari and the mages, then I might have a better chance."

"It would be wise to learn what you can with the knowledge that there are limitations," Ashan replied. "Neither the way of the mages or Ansari can teach you everything. You must learn truth for yourself, and to do this, you must learn of yourself."

"How can I learn from myself the things I don't know?" Aaron asked, confused.

"When you were tested in battle by Ansari in the great circle, did you learn of yourself?" Ashan asked. "Did anyone teach you how to become one with your power?"

"No," Aaron said. "But I saw what the Ansari leader was doing."

"You perceived the changes in his form."

"Yes," Aaron said.

"And you were able to use that power to make your arms stronger, to move more quickly, to become a more powerful warrior. How did you learn such a thing?"

"I don't know," Aaron said. "I just tried it and it made sense."

"You did not draw lines with your power or manipulate flows of magic like the mages do," Ashan said. "You simply became that which you wished to be."

"I know how to do it the other way, but the way the Ansari leader did it was different and it made more sense for fighting," Aaron said.

"And that is the Ansari way," Aaron said, though he was not entirely sure.

"It is, though there is much more to Ansari than being one with your power," Ashan told him. "What you did in that fight was to learn from yourself. It is in such a way that there are things that I might teach you, but there are things that you will learn without being taught. This is frustrating for me as well, Aaron, for you show great promise as Ansari, but while you may come to know Ansari, you are not Ansari. And though I may guide you, I cannot teach you in the same way I teach the others."

Aaron nodded, starting to grasp what the old man was trying to explain, or not explain. If his power was somehow different, then it made sense that Ashan would not be able to explain it, even if he could perceive that it was different. At least the Ansari could help him learn to use his power to fight without feeding the shadow. Still, he was curious about one thing.

"You spoke of the sun," he said. "Can you answer me that, at least? Is it a luminescent ball or is it made of fire?"

"That is something I do not know," Ashan said with dry laugh. "Ansari have long believed it to be made of fire, and very distant, far beyond the sky itself, but there is no way for Ansari to know such a thing."

"You can change shape," Aaron said. "Why not become a bird and fly to it?"

"If it is made of fire, then it would burn the feathers of a bird," Ashan said.

"A dragon then," Aaron replied. "I have read about dragons. They are said to eat and breathe fire and be all but impervious to it, and they have wings and can fly."

"Perhaps a dragon could discover such a thing, but it is the one form Ansari will not lightly take, and certainly not for such a purpose."

"Why not?"

"The power of a dragon is fearsome, but it is ruled by intense emotion, anger and rage being the dominant state," Ashan explained. "Dragons are prone to madness, to losing themselves in their rage and becoming mindless and destructive. It is contrary to Ansari to become thus."

"I have read stories from ages past of dragons attacking people and causing many troubles," Aaron said. "The stories said they were hunted long ago."

"The ones who fell prey to the madness were hunted," Ashan told him.

"The way you say that suggests that there were other dragons who did not," Aaron said. "What of them?"

"They went away, to a faraway land where they could do no harm."

"But they did not fall prey to madness," Aaron said. "What danger would they be?"

"All dragons are prone to madness," Ashan said. "It is simply a matter of how mad they might be. They are also wise, and in their wisdom they flew away, for their own sake and that of the other peoples of this world, that their fires would do no harm."

"Well then, I doubt we will find one willing to fly up to the sun," Aaron said with a shrug.

"Such a thing would be very unlikely," Ashan replied.

Aaron wondered about what the Ansari had said about the intense emotions of the dragons. From the sound of it, they were like the opposite of the feeling he got from the power of the shadow and it made him wonder.

"The Ansari do not like the emptiness of the shadow, but they do not like the intensity of the dragons," he said. "Are those things not opposites?"

"In many ways, they are," Ashan agreed. "And they are both destructive, for they are extreme forms, one of darkness, one of fire. But it is false to equate dragons with the shadow. Dragons are creatures, like you or I, and they exist with life and purpose. The reason Ansari are wary of dragonkind is due to the madness of such creatures, for to be mad is to no longer know oneself, and to know Ansari is to exist with the entirety of truth in oneself."

"You said my power is like that of a mage and that of the Ansari, and something else. Is it like the dragons?"

"No," Ashan said. "Dragonkind are more like Ansari, though some of them have he ability to use magic as the mages do, as do some among my people, though we have little use for it. Your power is like that of dragons the way that my power is like dragons, but it is not the answer to the question you were truly asking."

Aaron felt like his thoughts were going to spin around and fall down.

"I wish you would just give me some kind of a hint," he said.

"It is good to wish for things, but I can only help you to know Ansari," Ashan replied.

"Then I suppose we should focus on that," Aaron said. "If I can't use magic without feeding the shadow, at least I can learn to use my power to fight."

"That is practical from one perspective," Ashan said. "However, if you are to prevail over the shadow, and realize your true power, you must focus on understanding more than simply how to fight. I believe that knowing Ansari will help you with this, but it is but one step on the journey to your own truth, whatever that might be, a journey that is made all the more difficult by the shadow that lives within you."

"And if I fail, then I will die."

"Of that I am certain," Ashan said. "The shadow would destroy you or others would destroy the shadow before it could take your power."

"Then why not just destroy me now," Aaron said. "I know I have power, and I know how dangerous it can be and how dangerous I could be. Why take the risk?"

"As you like to say, why not?" Ashan said with a smile. "Perhaps it is worth the risk. And do not take offense, Aaron, but if you were in danger of succumbing to the shadow, I would kill you myself."

"You would, wouldn't you?" Aaron frowned, already knowing that the Ansari spoke the truth.

"Yes," Ashan told him. "I would."

"What about the others?" Aaron asked.

"Ansari would fight to destroy the shadow." Ashan held his gaze, his eyes unyielding in the truth of what he had said.

"I mean Stavros or Stroma, or Ehlena," Aaron felt a knot in his stomach when he thought of Ehlena in such a way.

"I cannot speak for the mage, nor do I know the minds of the gods," Ashan said. "You would have to ask them."

"I have tried," Aaron said. "They do not want to talk about it. They don't want to talk about anything to do with my power."

"They understand, as I do, that there are many things you must learn for yourself," Ashan told him. "As for what happens if you succumb to the shadow, there is no need for them to talk of such things, not yet. There is still time."

"And when the time comes?"

"It is not so much a matter of when, Aaron," Ashan told him. "For now, we must ask how instead of asking questions like if and when, and I truly hope, as I know the others do as well, that you will overcome the dark power."

"As do I," Aaron said.

*****

The world seemed to be without light, black as pitch, when Ariana awoke. Her entire body ached almost as though she had been badly beaten and she found that she could barely move. At least she was no longer cold and she shifted her body around and could feel the bits of rough leather and the soft caress of the heavy furs that covered her. As she moved, pain stabbed through her from numerous places on her body, tender and throbbing in so many places like she was cut and bruised all over. She moaned from the ache of it and stopped trying to move, letting her body rest where she lay.

Ariana remembered collapsing in the snow, her arms and legs refusing to move, and she remembered being carried. After that she had only flashes of darkness, penetrated by flashes of white, hot light and glimpses of faces in shadow and glimmering reflections of fire. Sore and too hurt to move more than a little, she slowly curled up in a ball, naked underneath the heavy furs and let the soothing darkness of sleep claim her once more.

Another bundle of furs began to move as Margo awakened in the dark, feeling like she was recovering from a battle, one she may have survived but had lost badly, though she could not remember any of it. She waited for her eyes to adjust but there was no light at all by which to see, but she could smell the faint scent smoke in the air, with a hint of sulfur. She listened in the darkness and could hear the distinctive sounds of slow breathing from nearby and she knew she was not alone. She heard movement then Keira's voice, moaning lightly, followed by the rustling sound of movement. She sat up, pushing the heavy furs off of her and she felt the cold air outside the coverings, cool against the warmth of her naked skin, which was tender in so many places from whatever it was she had endured.

"Keira?" Margo whispered.

"I am here," Keira said. "Though I do not know where here is. What of Ariana, where is she?"

"I heard her moving moments ago, but I believe she has fallen back to sleep," Margo said. "Do you know what happened?"

"No," Keira said. "The last I remember is the two of us carrying her through the snow, and I could not see a thing."

Margo felt around beyond the furs and found that she lay on a hard-packed dirt floor. She crawled out of the coverings, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through her body as she moved. She stopped and slid a hand along her skin, checking to see if she was injured and she felt something strange. All over her body, and in her most sensitive places, it felt as though tiny beads of ice were attached to her. Hard and cold, they sent spikes of throbbing agony through the rest of her at even the slightest touch, and the natural response of her body tightening to the cold air outside the furs made the pain even worse. She let her hand fall back to the ground and crawled carefully in the direction of Keira's voice. After only a short crawl, she found the edge of another mass of furs and she felt the elven woman's leg underneath them.

Margo lifted the edge of the furs and crawled into the furs, her teeth beginning to chatter from the cold, which had quickly sapped away the warmth in her body. She felt Keira's warm skin against her own as she slipped in next to her.

"You are freezing," Keira whispered.

"It is very cold outside the furs," Margo said, her voice jittering from the chattering of her teeth.

She felt Keira's arms slide around her and nestled in to the warmth of her body.

"Wherever we are," Keira said, pausing a moment as she peered around in the darkness. "Whatever this place is, someone has provided us with these furs, though it seems they have taken liberties with our bodies." She slid her hand gently along Margo's arm and across her chest, discovering that she also had the same icy cold bumps.

"Ow," Margo said, flinching at the pain that was somehow sharp like a knife yet with the dull throb of a bruise.

"Something has been done to us," Keira said, letting her fingers relax, no longer searching Margo's body for what she had already discovered on her own. "I can no longer feel the power of the forest and the earth, even in the distance. It is as though I have used it all up and left myself exhausted."

"I feel the same," Margo told her. "I do not have such powers like most of you elves, but I feel as though I have had all my strength taken from me. It is unnerving to be as weak as a kitten. I barely had the strength to cross the floor."

"Then rest," Keira said. "It is what we needed, and whoever brought us here has provided us with bedding, so it is unlikely they intend to kill us, at least not yet."

"I certainly hope not," Margo said with a yawn and, a moment later, she was fast asleep.

Keira lay awake as the sleeping warrior nuzzled in closer to her and she tried once again to reach for her power, not so much that it would be of much use in this frozen place where nothing grew, but because she felt helpless without it. Strangely, she could still feel the energy that flowed within her but it was as though it was just out of reach, like grasping at something at the ends of her fingertips, and when she tried, she noticed a sharpening in the pain from the tiny objects that had been stuck throughout her body. Exhausted from the effort, she laid her head back upon the soft, thick furs, heeding her own advice to rest.

It was some time later when Ariana awoke to the orange glow of a warm fire, crackling in a stone hearth nearby and she saw Keira and Margo, both of them unclothed, and sitting next to each other on a curved stone bench, warming themselves before the fire. Opposite them, on a matching bench, was woman with pure white hair, not that of one who was aged, for she looked to be no older than Ariana, but as though that was its color. She had very strange, dark markings all over the pale skin of her body and parts of her seemed to glow and glimmer with white light, where countless jewels glittered.

Ariana saw that her two companions were similarly adorned, with jewels embedded all over their bodies, along their arms and legs, as well as numerous points upon their faces and she quickly realized that she too was covered in a similar manner. She slowly climbed out from underneath the furs that covered her, careful not to catch the jewels on anything, her body sensitive and raw in so many places. She felt weak as she slowly rose to her feet and made her way toward the fire, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Ariana was nearly at the fire when she realized that she could not feel her power and she stopped, panicked at the numbness within her.

"Ariana," Margo said, turning at her approach and smiling with a tired look on her face. "You are awake."

Both Keira and the other woman turned to look at her and the elven woman managed the closest thing to a smile that Ariana had seen from her while the strange looking woman with white hair remained expressionless, though her eyes were sharp and almost predatory, such that Ariana felt all the more naked under her gaze.

"Where are we?" Ariana asked. "And what has been done to us?"

"You are at the edge of the world, between the land of ice and the land of fire," the woman said, her voice dry like a cold winter wind.

"And who are you?"

"I am Dala."

"Dala?"

"Yes, that is what I am called."

"And what have you done to me, to us?" Ariana asked.

"You were saved from death in the frozen wastes," Dala replied.

"That is not what I am asking," Ariana replied.

"We have already asked about the stones," Keira said. "It is no use."

"Yes, these gems or stones," Ariana said. "What are they? I cannot feel my power."

"You are safe here," Dala said.

"Wonderful," Ariana said, her breathing becoming heavy with exhaustion. "You still haven't answered my questions."

"Sit," Dala told her, looking at the space next to her on the stone bench.

"I will not," Ariana said, her temper flaring despite how tired she was.

In an almost imperceptible blur, the woman disappeared from the bench and reappeared right in front of Ariana, holding the sharp tip of a dagger to her throat. The cold prick of the metal felt like it was sapping what little strength she had and Dala barely had to nudge Ariana and she quickly sat down on the stone bench, her legs almost falling out from under her. Dala slid her blade into a sheath strapped to her leg, then she picked up a gnarled piece of wood from a pile next to the fire and tossed it into the flames, and turned to look at the three of them.

"What did you do to me?" Ariana asked, breathless as she tried to grasp her power but found she could not.

"You are strong to be able to speak after the touch of my blade," Dala said.

"Answer me. What have you done to us?"

"I have done nothing," Dala said. "It is you, that has given the stones your strength." She pointed at the jewel on the back of Ariana's wrist, which had taken on a slight but noticeable luminescence. "See, they gather power already."

"These jewels steal my power?"

"You are protected," Dala said. "You cannot be seen in this place."

"I do not understand," Ariana said, but Dala ignored her and poked at the fire with a steel metal rod.

"It is no use," Keira said again with a shrug.

"So we just sit here?" Ariana asked and Dala turned to look at her.

"You will sit when you are told to sit," she said. "It is best that you be still and keep watch on the flames, for the flames destroy the shadows, but left unwatched, the flames will burn."

Even though she could barely move, Ariana still felt the call, the fear and the anger that was like a silent echo, ringing in her ears without sound. She had felt it for the entire journey, growing stronger with every step, over every mountain, and she knew she was close, he was close, and she wanted to go to him, to help him, but there was nothing she could do. Ariana closed her eyes and felt the warmth of the fire, focusing on its heat and letting it feed the anger that she knew was inside of her. She felt a flicker of power deep within her, the power of fire, part of the gift the dragon king had given her, and she felt her own power, still there but stolen away by the stones that covered her body, and she understood their purpose.

"You have stolen my power and made me a prisoner," she said. "Why have you done this?"

"You are stubborn," Dala commented, ignoring her question.

"I am determined," Ariana said.

"Stubborn," Dala said again. "It matters not."

"It matters to me," Ariana told her. "Why have you done this to us?"

Dala turned and looked at her, then she glanced over at Keira and Margo, and stood.

"You will watch the flames," she said. "Reflect upon them and rest."

"And then what?" Ariana asked.

Dala looked down at her, staring at her with her dark, penetrating eyes, and then she turned and walked away from the fire and into the shadows. Ariana felt a slight brush of icy cold air across her bare skin for a brief moment, and she knew that the woman had left wherever it was that they were being held.

"Did you two discover anything else?" Ariana asked Keira and Margo.

"You got more out of her than we did," Margo said.

"This woman, Dala, she said very little, only that we were to sit and watch the flames," Keira told Ariana. "If I were not so exhausted, I would find it irritating."

"It reminds me of the time you trapped me in the sap of that tree," Ariana said, feeling a little irritated herself.

"You trapped her in a tree?" Margo asked.

"She used fire magic in the forest, which is forbidden, and the tree was the one that trapped her," Keira said, then she sighed, exhausted. "Perhaps we are to learn something here. Do you regret learning to speak to the trees, squirrel?"

"No," Ariana said. "I was angry at first, but I am glad to know the forest."

"Then consider how strong a distaste we of the forest have for fire, and yet now I am commanded to sit here and watch the flames," Keira said, her usual calm manner set off by her irritation. "As I have no choice in the matter, I will watch them. Perhaps they have something to say."

"I would rather find a way to get out of here," Ariana said. "Trees might talk, but flames do not."

"Have patience, Ariana," Margo suggested. "If we are prisoners, then it is our duty to find a way to escape, but, in the meantime, we should rest and heal. I doubt we would get very far in the cold, especially since they have robbed us of our clothes, our weapons and our supplies."

"So we will just sit here and watch the flames?" Ariana complained angrily and she felt the fire within her catch alight, only at faint flicker, like the tiny flame of a candle in the wind, struggling to stay lit, but slowly growing, and she saw the jewels on her body begin to pulse and glow more brightly with every breath she took as her strength began to return and the fire within her grew.

*****

Brian sat at the end of a long, packed table in the tavern, crowded among the rowdy patrons, many of them contestants in the tournament, who were enjoying Cerric's largesse by eating and drinking their fill in between rounds of the tournament, celebrating their wins or drowning their losses. Despite the boisterous revelry all around, the mug of ale curled in his hand on the table before him tasted bitter with every sip, as he remembered how, not so long ago, he and his brothers had sat in a tavern such as this, excited at the prospect of enjoying the frothy drink, thinking themselves grown men. He laughed at the thoughts of his old foolish ideas about running off to be a knight, his dreams of gallantry and heroism, and how things were not quite how he had imagined them.

"Something amuses you?" asked another patron, a warrior with a strange and almost metallic sounding voice, who sat across the table, quietly sipping at a mug of ale, his face hidden underneath the cowl of his cloak.

"No, not really," Brian said, looking up at the pale face in the shadows beneath the cloak. "Just some thoughts of a different place and a different time."

"Things change," the warrior said.

"It is true," Brian replied with a frown. "Are you competing in the tournament?"

"Yes, I am," he replied.

"As am I," Brian said and then he raised his mug. "To a fair fight and a clean victory."

"A fair fight? A clean victory?" The warrior chuckled.

"Such ideas amuse you?" Brian asked, keeping his mug up.

"They do." The warrior lifted his mug and nodded. "But I will drink anyway."

They each sipped their ale and placed their mugs back on the table.

"Where are you from?" Brian asked.

"I am from the east," the warrior said. "Though I have traveled to the north most recently."

"The north?"

"Up in the mountains."

"Did you fight in the Kandaran war?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm just making conversation," Brian said, then he took another sip from his mug.

The warrior leaned forward and stared at the froth floating around on the surface of his ale, his hood hanging further over his face.

"I was there," he said. "It was hardly a battle. The forces of Xalla and Maramyr crushed the Kandarans and their allies, and the young king of Kandara betrayed his people, sealing their fate. Kandara belongs to Cerric now."

"I have heard stories that the elves fought in the battle. Is it true?" Brian asked, hoping the warrior might talk about the others who stood against Cerric.

From the way he spoke of what had happened at Kandara, Brian thought the warrior might be a Xallan, and he found it interesting, the distaste that was obvious in his voice when he mentioned Cerric.

"Elves," he said, his disgust even more pronounced. "Arrogant creatures, formidable warriors they are, but they can be killed like any other."

"It is said they fought alongside the Kandarans and I have even heard that part of the Maramyrian army turned against Cerric."

"Yes, some of them did turn," the warrior said. "The fools quickly learned the power they faced."

"Then they were killed," Brian said.

"Many were killed, and many of them fled like cowards."

"What do you think will happen to the commanders who betrayed Cerric?" Brian asked, pressing for some mention of Kaleb.

"I do not know," the warrior answered. "They are of no importance to Cerric. They never were, but they will die along with their elven allies." He stood from the table, then picked up a giant battleaxe and hefted it over his shoulder.

"That's quite the axe," Brian commented.

"It was a prize from the Kandaran war," the warrior said.

"May you win greater prizes in the tournament," Brian said and raised his mug.

"I intend to," he said with a smile beneath his cowl and Brian thought he saw of a row of pointed teeth before the warrior turned and walked away.

Draxis had a strange feeling about the young warrior he had left sitting at the table. Something about the young man bothered him, a presence or a scent that he found odd and discomfiting, and he wondered why he had even spoken to him in the first place. He pushed open the door to the tavern and stepped out into heat of the day, then he headed up the stone cobbled street toward the tournament grounds, where he was to face yet another adversary. Draxis hoped it would be someone interesting, for he was growing impatient with fighting so many low level amateurs who had flocked to the city as much for the free food and drink as the chance to prove that they could swing a sword. As he began making his way toward the Academy, where the matches were being held, he caught a strange scent on the wind, one that reminded him of the young man he had just spoken with in the tavern, and this time he recognized it for what it was, the scent of power. It seemed that Cerric's tournament had attracted some interesting contestants, and his thoughts returned to the young warrior at the table, wondering what power he might have.

The door to the tavern opened and a slender figure walked inside and filtered in amongst the patrons, his presence barely noticed among so many. He lifted the cowl from his face and looked about the room, then he spotted the young man he was looking for, sitting at a busy table across from an empty spot on a bench. He made his way through the rowdy chaos and sat down across from the young man, who looked up at him and smiled.

"Jax," Brian said with a smile, pleased to see the thief.

"Brian, my boy," Jax said, returning his grin along with a wink. "I was hoping to find you at a place like this. Have you learned anything about Kaleb?"

"Not much," Brian said. "I think he is still alive. I have spoken with a few soldiers and warriors who fought at Kandara and most believe that Kaleb and the other Maramyrians fled to the elven lands. I have also heard that Cerric is planning to attack the elven forests next as retribution for them supporting the Kandarans."

"Well, that's both good and bad news," Jax said as he waved to one of the women roving through the room bringing ale to the patrons. "If Kaleb's at Elvanar, then he probably won't be returning anytime soon since he's been branded a traitor and likely to be killed on sight by Cerric's troops."

"That sounds like the bad news," Brian said. "What's the good part?"

"If Cerric is focusing on Elvanar, then he probably won't waste too much of an effort on White Falls," Jax said. "We can hope, at least."

"You really think he would just ignore us?" Brian asked.

"Probably not," Jax admitted. "I had hoped that Kaleb would return. He always has a plan of some kind."

"So you don't know what we should do?"

"No," Jax said, shaking his head as one of the serving women placed a mug of ale in front of him. A coin appeared in his hand as though from nowhere and he handed it to her with a smile then picked up his ale and raised it to Brian. "I have no idea."

"Then what am I doing here?" Brian asked.

"Discovering things," Jax said.

"Yes, but why? If you don't know what we should do, then why have I been sneaking around Maramyr trying to find things out?"

"Well, if you found out something useful, then it might help us think of an idea or a plan. Then we would know what to do. Right? "

"All this time I thought you and Fergus already had a plan." Brian sighed in frustration.

"No, that's Kaleb who thinks of those sorts of things," Jax took another drink. "Have you found out anything else? What is the story about this tournament?"

"It is a competition for the best fighters," Brian said. "I signed up for it so I could walk around the city without any trouble."

"I heard several rough looking fellows talking about it on my way here," Jax said. "It sounds like the fights have already begun."

"They have," Brian told him. "I have had two matches already and won them both."

"Well that's good," Jax said. "Have you learned what might be the point of this entire spectacle?"

"I don't know if what I've heard is true, but Cerric is looking to find the best fighters for his army and those who win to the end will be given prizes and made commanders to lead the attacks."

"Really?" Jax scratched his chin. "That doesn't make much sense. Just because someone is a good fighter against a single opponent doesn't mean they would be any good at commanding troops."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm an excellent fighter, one of the best sword fighters I have ever met and I would probably make a terrible commander."

"Why do you think you would be a bad commander?" Brian asked, ignoring the thief's conceits about his own fighting skills.

"For one thing, I'm far too selfish," Jax said. "The thought of having to think about all those people and what they should be doing and all that sort of thing is completely unappealing to me. Most likely I would do it wrong and send everyone to completely senseless deaths."

"I doubt that," Brian said.

"All right, maybe not," Jax said, nodding and staring at the table as he gave it some thought. He looked up at Brian. "It does make for a most intriguing idea though."

"What's that?"

"Do you know if it is too late to join the tournament?" Jax asked.

"I'm not sure. You could check with the soldiers at the tournament grounds. They are at the Academy."

"I might just do that."

"So, what do we do now?"

"Compete in the tourney, obviously," Jax replied.

"But why?" Brian said. "You are only telling me half of what you are thinking."

"This is exactly what I was telling you," Jax said with a grin. "It is why I would make a terrible commander. I forget that you can't hear all my thoughts, though it's probably better that you don't.  Imagine if Cerric made someone like me a commander in his army? He might as well just hand over his troops to his enemies and have them turn on him, just like Kaleb did."

Jax winked at him and Brian realized what the thief was suggesting.

"It could cause a lot of trouble for Cerric," he said, smiling at the idea.

"Causing trouble is one of my greatest talents," Jax said. "It might possibly be what I do best."

"I will drink to that," Brian said with a laugh and he lifted his mug and downed his last swallow of ale.

Jax paused for a moment, realizing that Brian might be drinking to something a little different than what he meant, but he shrugged and raised his mug anyway.

*****

Rage. Echoing screams and guttural growls filled the cavern. The heavy iron chains rattled and groaned from the strain upon them as the dragon pulled at them with all its might. Acid flames burst forth, engulfing the cavern in fire and melting stone. Outside, in the cool air at the edge of the lava flows, two dragons stood guard as others of their kind flew in circles overhead, issuing challenges but keeping their distance.

"We cannot guard him forever," Vana told her daughter.

"He will have as long as the irons can hold him, to overcome the beast within him," Vale said. "I gave him my word."

"An oath it is," Vana said. "And he knows what will happen once the chains are broken?"

"He does."

"The elders do not like this, Vale, and it is causing many problems among the dragons." Vana looked into the mouth of the cave as another bellow rumbled from deep inside. "It is difficult to ignore such a blatant challenge, even for the bonded."

"I know, mother," Vale growled. "And I care not what the elders or the other dragons think. It is no secret what is happening and all the dragons know his challenges are not real."

"That is the problem, Vale. They are real," Vana said. "He screams at them to fight and it is in our blood to respond, wildling or no."

"And are we not better than beasts?" Vale asked.

"It is our nature," Vana said. "If only he would bond."

"You know I have tried, mother," Vale said, her voice taking on an edge of irritation.

"I know you have," Vana replied. She knew the frustrations and difficulties that could be caused by a partial bonding and she sensed that there was much that Vale was not telling her, but she made no attempt to pry. Her daughter was no longer a youngling and she could make her own decisions and bear the responsibility for them as she saw fit. Vana looked over at her, resonating with solemn pride and true empathy. "Though you have inherited my wisdom, perhaps you understand my mind a little better now."

"I do, mother," Vale said, her anguish seeping through her words.

In the darkness of the cavern, among the flames, the heavy chains rattled against the stone floor as the dragon slumped forward, finally exhausted. Behind the madness in his reptilian eyes, deep beneath the waves of wild anger, Borrican fought against the overwhelming rage that consumed him. He grasped desperately at memories of those he cared about, the faces he still recognized and he clung to the few moments of clarity that had not yet fallen prey to the beast within.

He ran toward the image of his father, an old man in a crown, but his vision changed and the king turned into a creature of leather and scales, wings and talons, fangs and fire. He recoiled from the beast and turned to a man he knew was his uncle, smiling and laughing with mirth in his eyes, but then his teeth became fangs and his eyes turned reptilian. He ran toward a girl who seemed familiar, her features delicate yet sharp and she scolded him but with a sad look in her eyes. He wanted to hold her and he reached out his hand toward her but his fingers turned to claws, and at his touch she burst into flames. He screamed inside his thoughts, desperate at the betrayal of what he had done, but she did not react to the fire that burned her flesh. Instead, she reached out to him through the flames and Borrican remembered her name.

"Ariana," he whispered, his voice a rasp of smoke and guttering flame, and then he fell again into deep black oblivion.

CHAPTER TWO

Ariana walked out into the wind and snow that gusted through the darkness across her bare skin but she did not feel the slightest bit cold. The dark, rocky ground radiated heat beneath her feet and the gemstones adorning her body somehow seemed to keep the rest of her warm, almost as though they created a protective layer around her. The stones now glowed even more brightly, giving off luminescent white light and she could feel them absorbing her power and sapping her strength, but she felt the heat of the fire deep within her burning brighter and continuing to grow.

Keira and Margo followed along behind Ariana, both of them still very weak but at least able to walk, as Dala led the three women through a kind of village toward a place at its center where a large group of men and women sat, gathered in a half circle before a large fire that was set against a curved stone wall that appeared to have been cut from the rock of the earth itself. All of the people, like Dala, wore nothing save for straps to carry knives and swords, and they were all similarly adorned with gemstones, some of them different colors and all of them glowing in the dim firelight, and they all had dark markings on their skin, in various shapes, some of which Ariana thought looked familiar.

Upon the smooth, dark stone surface of the ground, in front of the fire, were three piles of items and Ariana quickly recognized them as belonging to her and her two companions, their clothing, weapons and other things, as well as her and Keira's elven masks. As they approached, she also saw the jeweled dagger she had carried with her for so long, a keepsake from her mother and she noticed how similar it was to the one Dala carried, though it was far more ornate. Dala directed them to stand behind the items that belonged to each of them, their back to the fire and facing the people, then she stepped forward in front of them.

"Three have come to us," Dala said, raising her voice so the people could hear her over the howling wind and the crackling of the fire. "Two are gifted in spirit and one with a plain warrior's arm, carrying with them the burdens of the past." The woman turned around and looked at them. "Do you seek truth?"

"We seek to be free of this place," Ariana said.

"Do you seek truth?" Dala repeated, staring at her and Ariana felt almost as though the woman's eyes were punching holes right through her.

"I seek truth," Margo said and Dala turned in her direction.

"What are you doing?" Ariana hissed through her teeth, feeling her anger begin to burn.

"I think I understand," Margo replied, and Keira nodded.

"As do I," the elven woman said.

"Well I do not," Ariana said.

"It is a ritual," Keira said. "I think it would be best if we went along with it."

"Damn their rituals," Ariana muttered. "We do not have time for this."

It was obvious that Dala could hear them from where she stood and she met Ariana's smoldering look with her own implacable gaze, then she turned to Keira.

"Do you seek truth?" Dala asked again.

"I seek truth," Keira replied.

Dala looked toward Ariana again.

"Do you seek truth?"

"Yes, I seek truth," Ariana said, her anger rising fast. "But I have had enough of your lies. Now release us."

She reached inside herself, calling the heat of the fire that burned deep within her, and she felt the core of her body become hot and heat began to waver from her skin. It was difficult to draw power with the stones stealing it away so quickly but the fire was stronger, faster, greater than the magic of the stones that had kept her weak. Ariana channeled the frustration and the anger of being held a prisoner, using it to fuel the fire, and the air burst alight with flames that swirled around her, twisting around her fingertips and burning in her eyes that glared threateningly at the strange woman and her people.

A few of them shifted nervously on their feet, but Dala did not move. She simply stared at Ariana, with her sharp, penetrating yet indifferent eyes, as though she was looking right through her.

"Truth," she said. "Do you know the truth of fire?"

Ariana held her hand up to her cheek.

"I know enough," Ariana told her. "Do you?"

The flames around her grew hotter still as she drew from the power that had been given to her by the old king of Kandara, the man who had been a dragon. Dala drew her dagger, then she all but disappeared, moving so quickly from where she stood that it seemed as though she disappeared. Ariana was ready and she used her power to speed her own movements, snatching the jeweled dagger from the ground and ducking as Dala swung at her with her blade. Ariana spun and brought her dagger up to block the dagger as Dala slashed at her. The clash of the metal blades was unexpectedly loud, the sound as though the world itself might shatter, and sparks scattered around them as the two women fought. Ariana tried to focus the fire, the only power she could seem to grasp, trying to channel it into force and speed, but Dala moved too quickly, darting past her guard and attacking with such blindingly quick movements that Ariana could barely defend herself. She felt the woman's fingers grip her wrist, her hands icy cold against the heat of her flames and the jeweled dagger fell from her hands, landing upon the stone.

Almost in a single move, Dala touched her dagger against her throat, the same way she had done the last time that Ariana had defied her, and she felt her power drain from her once again. Ariana fought against it, drawing more energy from the flames that burned deep within her, but it was no use. The flames around her faded and she felt her arms and legs fall slack as her vision began to darken. Dala withdrew the blade and Ariana felt her consciousness returning but the strength she had was now gone and the fire within her guttered little more than glowing coals. She dropped to her knees, feeling the stone of the ground hard upon her bare skin as she landed and fell forward onto her hands.

"This one seeks fire," Dala said, looking down at Ariana with her hard, unyielding eyes, then she glanced at Keira and Margo, then turned back to her people. "The trials begin. One has failed."

"Ariana, are you all right?" Keira asked.

"I am fine," Ariana said through gritted teeth as the flames burst forth from her hands once more and she pushed herself up from the ground.

Flames grew around her, so much so that Keira and Margo had to step back and the pile of Ariana's clothing and her elven mask began to smolder from the heat. Dala took a step back, her expression showing a slight hint of surprise, then she moved forward again, disappearing from sight. Ariana called forth a ball of fire, a swirling inferno hovering between her hands and she looked for the woman, ready to attack her, but just as before, but Dala reappeared for barely the blink of an eye then she disappeared again.

Cold and sharp, like ice, yet somehow warm and smooth, the dagger slid into Ariana's chest, just below the point where her ribs came together. Her eyes widened and the fire around her disappeared as she clutched at Dala's hands and began to choke, unable to breathe. Keira and Margo dashed toward her, but several of the people at the front of the crowd disappeared then reappeared, moving as quickly as Dala and they held the two women back.

"What have you done?" Margo yelled.

"The truth," Dala said and she yanked the dagger free.

Ariana fell hard this time, landing on her shoulder, clutching her bleeding chest as her head smashed against the stone. She felt her vision begin to blur, and all she could do was gasp for air and fight the deep, stabbing pain that shot through her.

"You have killed her," Keira said.

"She will live, for now," Dala said, shaking her head. "A fate will be decided."

*****

Ariana gasped as she awoke and sat up, clutching at her chest. Keira and Margo sat on either side of her, illuminated by the dim firelight in the stone chamber and the faint glow of the gemstones adorning their bodies. Keira reached out a hand and laid it on Ariana's arm and she frowned when the princess flinched at her touch.

"What happened?" Ariana glanced around, looking around at the dark shadows in the corners of the room.

"You do not remember?" Keira asked.

"I remember that foul woman stabbing me," Ariana said, looking down at the center of her chest and pressing her fingers to the place where she had been wounded. There was a small scar where the blade had penetrated her, and even though she felt no pain, the feeling of the dagger inside her was so fresh in her memory that her heart pounded with both panic and anger. The stones covering her had become clear and lifeless when the knife had been removed but her anger brought the fire inside her back to life and the stones began to glow faintly once more.

"I thought you were killed," Margo said. "You bled but you did not die, and then you were healed."

"How? What happened?" Ariana asked.

"It was the woman, Dala," Keira told her. "She used some kind of magic to burn your wound away and heal you. I have never seen such a thing, and it makes no sense that she would use such a power to heal a wound. It was a killing blow, but she stopped you from dying."

"We must leave this place," Ariana said.

"We cannot," Keira said. "You saw how easily Dala was able to take your magic from you. All it takes is one touch of her dagger, and we are left helpless, and these stones continue to rob us of our strength."

"I must go," Ariana said and she felt tears begin to gather in the corners of her eyes. "There is so little time."

"I know you search for the Kandaran prince, but it has take us this long to get this far, surely our journey can wait a little while longer," Keira said. "If we are patient, a chance will arise that we can free ourselves."

"No," Ariana cried, her thoughts overwhelmed with anger, frustration and sorrow. "I must go now."

"I don't see how, princess," Margo said. "We are completely at the mercy of these people."

"You have betrayed me," Ariana said, suddenly snapping out of her tears and leveling a furious look at the two women. "I heard you both, accepting what that woman said, agreeing with her."

"We did not agree with her, Ariana," Keira said. "She asked a question and we answered it. It is a question that is asked only of the initiated. It was a question we both recognized. That was what we were trying to tell you, to go along with the questions. There seems to be some sense to all of this."

"Explain," Ariana said, her eyes drying as the fire within her began to burn once more along with a rage that she could barely control.

"We think they are Rangers, princess," Margo said.

"Rangers? Are they not sworn to protect? Why do they cause so much trouble?"

"You misunderstand," Keira said. "Rangers are sworn to do many things, but our three tenets are to seek, to watch and to defend."

"Yes, exactly," Ariana said. "You watch and defend me. How is that any different?"

"We watch and defend you out of our duty to you, Ariana, but it is not our oath," Keira told her. "Our task as Rangers is to guard against the coming of the flames and the return of the shadows. The question that Dala asked is the first of many questions that those of our order ask of one another, questions that only those initiated into the ranks of the Rangers would know to answer correctly."

"Are you sure of this?" Ariana asked, fighting for control over her emotions.

"No," Margo said. "We are not sure, but there are other signs. The markings on their bodies, the shapes and symbols, many of them are familiar to us."

"They are symbols of our order," Keira said. "The most common is the symbol of the leaf. It is the symbols that many who know of the Rangers or have been selected as prospective members but are not yet initiated would recognize.  There are other symbols, questions that most people don't know."

Ariana remembered when Aaron had been made a captain and Nathas had asked if he could also give Aaron a ring, identifying him as a Ranger. At the time, she had thought it had something to do with his skill in the woods, for there were others who were called such, but she did not know much about this order of Rangers. Still, both Margo and Keira were members of the order, and Nathas must be one also, and Aaron as well.

"If they are Rangers, then why do they treat us so? Ariana asked.

"That is mystery," Keira said. "These people are strange in their practices. They walk naked in the blinding cold, they deny themselves power by using these stones, and yet they somehow move with power, and though they appear to hold to the old traditions of the order, they are different, as though their understanding of things has changed over time. It is possible that these people have lived here for generations, and so their understanding of such things and ours might be different. That is why I think we should wait and see, that we might learn a little more about them before we decide what to do."

"It would not hurt for us to regain our strength as well," Margo said. "I can feel my body slowly returning to the way it was, but I am still very weak. I could not fight even a child like this, and Dala is not the only warrior among these people who can move like the wind. When you fell and we tried to reach you, several of the others demonstrated that they too had that ability."

"It is very strange that they seem to dislike magic yet they use it so effortlessly," Keira said and then she looked at Ariana. "I am curious, Ariana, how is it you are able to command your fire magic even with the stones?"

"I do not know," Ariana said. "I think it might be the gift from King Eric."

"The gift?"

"The king gave me a gift of fire, just before the battle," Ariana said. "I think it is the reason I could talk to Borrican and why I know where he is."

"Eric was a dragon," Keira said. "There is an ancient wisdom among our people, that it is foolish to accept anything from a dragon, gift or no."

"What was I to do?" Ariana said. "He was the King of Kandara, Borrican's father. You saw how he fought for his people. "

"Eric was a good king," Margo said. "He was both generous and fair, and his passion for his people was second only to his passion for his wife. I believe it was her death that led to the touch of madness that plagued him near the end, but his fire burned strong for Kandara even so."

"Ariana, is it this fire that allows you to resist the power of these stones?" Keira asked, wondering about what she had just learned.

"I think so," Ariana said.

"What of your other power, your own magic, the gifts of your elven heritage?"

Ariana shook her head.

"I can barely feel that power," she said. "I know it is there, but it is as though it is far away."

"It is the same for me," Keira said. "It seems this gift from the dragon is as powerful as these stones."

"I can feel the fire, and it is growing stronger," Ariana told her, and Keira thought she saw a flicker of flames in her eyes.

"The truth of fire," Keira said, pondering. "Dala asked whether we seek the truth."

"Yes, what of it?" Ariana asked, her eyes narrowing again in suspicious curiosity. "You and Margo knew what she meant, didn't you?"

"It is an old story," Keira said. "It is a story that no one truly knows, for even the most ancient of histories only mention it in reference to other things. It is a story of light and darkness, of flame and shadow, of a war that raged across the world and nearly destroyed existence itself. It is called the truth of fire."

"If no one truly knows the story, how can it be a story?" Ariana asked.

"It may just be a story," Margo said. "I believe it is true, for it is the founding story of the Rangers. It is part of the oath we take once we are accepted and initiated into the order."

"A story about a war that nearly destroyed the world?" Ariana was skeptical. "One would think that such a tale would be in all the histories."

"It is far older than any histories, and it is a story that is always mentioned with a warning that it should not be told to those without wisdom," Keira said. "In truth, we should not even be speaking of it with you, for you have not been initiated into our order."

"I am the rightful Queen of Maramyr and a Princess of the House of Solari," Ariana said, irritated that Keira seemed to have a problem trusting her. "Should I not know of this? It is my right to know of threats to my lands and people."

"Please, Ariana, do not take offense," Margo said. "It is a matter that our members have debated many times over the generations. Some rulers can be trusted, and some cannot, for the knowledge of the old stories could lead to even greater troubles. You would not want such information to be shared with the likes of your uncle, Cerric, would you?"

"Certainly not," Ariana said, frowning. "But how would knowing such a story create greater troubles?"

"They are stories of power, fearsome power and destruction," Keira told her. "Some rulers would understand the reason these stories are not told while others might instead lust after that power, failing to heed the warning. Determining between which rulers to trust and with which to remain guarded must be carefully done."

"I see," Ariana said. "And you will not tell me more."

"We have already told you more than we should," Margo replied. "The decision to admit someone into our circle is not something for Keira or I to make of our own accord. You have not even been admitted as a prospective member yet."

"A prospective member?"

"If someone is of interest to the Rangers, who might be trustworthy, then they are given a ring and invited to become members in name," Margo said. "However, they are not truly members. They are merely prospects, and we observe them more closely over time to determine if they are worthy of becoming initiates to our way, and even then becoming an initiate is merely the first step to becoming a true member. There are many steps that must be learned."

"And both of you are true members?" Ariana asked.

Keira and Margo looked at each other.

"We have exchanged words that signify some level of knowledge," Keira said. "I do not know what level Margo has attained but she knows enough to be of a high level."

"As with Keira," Margo said. "She has spoken the words to demonstrate a level of knowledge. Beyond that, what level she holds in our order is of little import, for we do not work in terms of rank and order, but knowledge, truth and trust."

"And what does this have to do with Dala and these people who hold us captive?" Ariana asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.

"They appear to be Rangers," Keira said.

"So you would trust them more than me?" Ariana asked, her temper flaring again.

"No, squirrel," Keira said. "We do not know much about these people, except that they have knowledge that might mean that they are allies. But if we fight them now, while we are weak and they remain suspicious of us, then we may not live to discover the truth. It is as simple as that. It is better that we go along with what they want, for now, until we can learn more about them, and until we are strong enough to escape. There is little else we can do."

"There is little time," Ariana countered. "We must leave this place and search for Borrican."

"You keep saying that," Margo replied. "I do not question your urgency, and I would like to find the Prince of Kandara as much as you, but it seems like something is driving you forward, so much so that you are willing to put yourself in danger."

"I can feel him," Ariana said. "I can feel his pain and hear the echoes of his thoughts. Borrican is in grave danger and I must go to him. I do not know how I know these things, but it may be part of the gift his father bestowed upon me before he died."

"A gift from a dragon is fraught with peril," Keira said, as though intoning an old expression of some sort, or a line from a poem.

"You say that as though it is somehow true," Ariana replied, irritated at what the elven woman had said. "Have you ever met a dragon or are you simply repeating things you have heard?"

"They are old sayings, words of wisdom, handed down among my people," Keira told her.

"Then you do not know if they are true."

"No," Keira admitted. "I do not know."

"Then they might not be true."

"Perhaps."

"Think on that," Ariana said. "If you seek truth, as a member of this order of Rangers, then you might think about the difference between what you know and what you think you know."

"There is wisdom in that," Keira said with a nod. "I would say the same to you, Ariana. You may feel you know the truth of this dragon prince, but there is magic at work here and it is affecting you. If you are to be your own person, a trustworthy queen of your lands and to sit upon one of the elven thrones, then you must know your own mind and your thoughts must be your own. This gift of the dragon does affect you, whether you are willing to admit it or not."

"I am willing to admit it," Ariana said, and she took a deep breath and felt herself trembling as she let out a sigh, suddenly feeling weary, all the way down to her bones, and she was also very afraid. "I have been terrible. I know it is true. I have been angry and difficult and have put you both in terrible danger. I have not been myself. I know this, and yet I also know what I must do, and I do it willingly. I would try to help Borrican either way.

"I am sure of that, for if you take away our titles, the years of court politics, the war and the differences between us, he is a man of honor and he is my friend. I have always known this, even when Borrican would irritate me with his ridiculous jokes, or when his uncle would try to put us together, hoping for a match, I still knew that he was of a true heart and would defend me in an instant. Would I not do the same for him? I do not know the meaning of the gift his father gave me, and truth be told, I am a little angry with King Eric for not telling me about it, though I suppose he did in his own way, but this gift can help him somehow. I know it as surely as I know my own name, and I must get to him and soon. You say I am not permitted to know of the secrets of your order, and I am glad you have decided to trust me. I promised Borrican's father that I would not speak of this gift, but I have trusted you with the truth of it, as much of it as I understand. So, no matter what is between us, no matter what difficulties we face, we have shown trust to one another. I will put aside the hurt that I have not been invited to know of this order of yours, and trust in your wisdom in that, but I am asking for you to trust me about the gift of fire. Perhaps there was some bargain in it from King Eric, but it did not matter then nor does it matter now. If this gift can help save Borrican, then I will use it."

"Ariana, you honor us with your words," Margo said. "We have not known one another long, but we have fought side by side in battle and I have observed your actions and found you to be honorable and true. I would gladly recommend you to the order."

"I have already made such a recommendation," Keira said. "If Margo were to do the same, and others as well, then you would be invited to join the circle. I suspect you would already have been given a ring bearing the symbol of the leaf were not for the chaos of the war and the fact that we left on this journey so quickly."

"Thank you, Keira, Margo," Ariana said, looking at the two women who sat on either side of her. "I am sorry I have been such a difficult burden of late and I truly am grateful for your trust."

Both of them nodded, smiling tiredly at her and Ariana was relieved that some of the tension between them was now gone. She felt a flood of warmth run through her, as powerful as the anger that burned within her, and though she was surprised and confused by the intensity of her emotions, she did not fight them, for they were truly glorious. Her tears began again as she reached out to both of them and pulled Keira and Margo into a joyful embrace.

"I do not know what is happening to me," Ariana said, smiling and crying. "But I do know that I must find Borrican or he will die."

"Then we must find a way to get you out of here," Keira said as Ariana released her from her arms.

"I am not afraid," Ariana said. "And this power I have gives me strength. I can fight."

"Dala is too fast and too strong, and her people share her abilities," Margo said. "I do not know how they are able to move so quickly, and from their movements I can tell that they are very skilled fighters."

"There is an aspect of magic that makes it possible to change one's strength and speed," Keira said. "Most elven warriors can do this, much the same way that we can affect the world around us, especially living things. It is part of elemental power to be able to do such things, and it takes many forms. There are even stories of a people in the desert, called the Ansari, who have perfected this way of power, and not only can they become strong, or move quickly, they can even change their shape and become fearsome creatures in battle."

"Shapeshifters?" Margo had heard of such a thing, but had always thought of those stories as old legends, though after what she had seen at Kandara, with the Akandra family and their ability to shift and change to dragon form, it only stood to reason that others might be able to do the same. "I have heard of the Ansari, but did not believe they had such power."

"The desert people have kept to themselves for many years, but we elves have very long memories," Keira said. "Perhaps the people who live in this desolate place are like the Ansari, warriors of power, who live away from the rest of the world. If Dala and her people are Rangers, and it appears that they are, perhaps it has something to do with their oath. Perhaps they are watching these lands. It did not occur to me before, but is also possible that they are Watchers."

"Watchers? There haven't been any watchers in the order for generations," Margo said.

"Watchers?" Ariana was confused. "What are watchers and what are they watching for?"

"Fire and shadow," Keira said. "Such things take many forms."

"You speak of fire and shadow, and watchers and both of you know what you know because of your secret Ranger order, but I don't understand." Ariana said.

"The ancient stories tell of fire and shadow, and the battle between them. We keep watch for signs of fire and shadow, but not simple fire or normal shadows, it is truefire and the dead shadows, with which we are concerned," Margo told her. "Long ago, there were three parts to our order, Rangers, Watchers and Defenders, and they did exactly as they are named. Rangers traveled the lands, searching for signs, Watchers kept watch over things that might need watching and the Defenders defended places that were to be kept safe."

"That is correct," Keira said, smiling at Margo. "You have true knowledge of the order."

"I have learned much but still seek wisdom," she replied, and Ariana got the impression that her words meant something more among the members of the order, something Keira would understand.

"Before you only spoke of Rangers," Ariana said. "Why didn't you mention Watchers and Defenders?"

"The order is not as powerful as it once was," Keira said. "To my knowledge, there are only Rangers now, though now I am not sure about these people."

A gust of wind blew into the dark chamber and the three women rose from the bed of furs as Dala entered.

"Come," she said to Ariana. "You are to be given that which you seek."

"What do you mean by that?" Ariana asked.

"Come," Dala said. "The fire awaits."

"I will not go with you," Ariana said.

Dala drew her dagger from the strap on her leg.

"You are powerful, but do not think to challenge me, for it is your power that now flows within this blade," she said and she flipped the dagger over and showed them the large jewel embedded in its pommel. The stone pulsed and swirled with energy and Dala's eyes took on the same look for a moment. "That power is now mine, should I choose, and thus you would die by your own hand. I have already killed you once."

"Then why did you save me?" Ariana asked.

"You were not yet judged," the woman said, flipping her dagger back around and sliding it back into its sheath. "Your life was not my decision to make."

"And whose decision is it?" Keira asked.

"You should know the answer, if you seek the truth," Dala said.

"What does that mean?" Ariana asked.

"It means that Dala does not know," Margo said.

"That is as it is," Dala replied. "Come. The truth of fire awaits."

"What do you mean by that?" Margo asked.

"Do you seek truth?"

"Yes, we all seek truth," Keira answered.

"Then come."

Dala pushed back the heavy curtain at the entrance to the chamber and led them out into the cold. They walked through the collection of stone dwellings, past the circle at the center of the habitation, where many of the people were waiting, who then followed along as they made their way out of village toward a dark haze of smoke nearby. After a time, Ariana noticed the air growing much warmer and she felt the ground growing hot under her bare feet as well. The path upon which they walked was smooth and well worn, apparently from years of people walking upon it and it led between high rocky crags that rose up before them.

They passed between high cliffs and broken rocks that loomed on either side of the path and came to a wide, open flat rock that ended with a sharp, sheer drop that overlooked a sight that struck Ariana and her companions with both fear and wonderment. Beyond the edge of the rock plateau was a sea of red, orange and black, of heat and fire, of molten rivers of lava flowing among rocks, paths through what looked like mountains of black stone. Dala led them toward the far side and stood near the edge of the cliff, then she turned to the three women.

"The truth of fire," she said. "Here, in this place, where the blood of the earth flows, where stone bleeds hot, as the rock holds the fire, the truth of fire is kept from the world. Those who would seek the fire, thinking to control its flame, can learn the truth of fire among the flames."

"I have heard of this," Keira said, stepping back, away. "A sea of fire. It is horrific to behold."

"What is this place?" Ariana asked the elven woman.

"It is a crack in the world," Margo said, answering for Keira, whose expression had gone stark with fear and revulsion. "The histories of the order mention it, but I never imagined what it might look like."

"Then this is the truth of fire?" Ariana asked.

"I do not know," Margo said. "The way Dala speaks it is difficult to understand her meaning, but I think she and her people believe it is."

Ahead, through the smoke, on the horizon between the rocky cliffs, Ariana saw something move, a familiar shape, moving through the sky. A moment later, a screech echoed across the lake of molten rock, the unmistakable call of dragon. Ariana felt her heart pounding in her chest and she could almost feel herself being drawn in the direction of the mountainous rocks and the rivers of fire. She stepped forward, moving closer to the edge of the cliff.

"Princess," Margo said, her voice urgent.

The dragon roared again in the distance.

"Hear the dragon's call," Dala said. "Creatures of fire they are, chaos and destruction embodied in flesh. In this, their domain, where they devour the fire and kill without mercy, we stand watch, ever mindful that they shall not return. We will watch their way."

"We will watch their ways," said the gathered people, their voices in almost perfect unison.

It was strange to hear the villagers speak when then had been so silent, and it caught Ariana, Keira and Margo off guard. Suddenly, they felt hands grip their arms as several of Dala's people appeared beside them, holding Keira and Margo in place while Ariana was pushed forward, toward the edge of the cliff by a man and a woman, one of them on either side of her.

"It is decided," Dala said to Ariana. "You are a seeker of fire and thus you will be consigned to flames, that you may know the truth of them."

"What?" Keira was appalled. "What decision is this?"

"It is the decision of the three," Dala said, turning to her with an accusing look.

"The three?" Keira asked. "You are Watchers. You are but one of the three."

"We are the three," Dala said.

"We are the three," the people intoned her words.

"Like the roots of the tree, we are many yet one. By the order of the three, we seek, we watch and we defend," Dala said.

"That is not the way of the order," Margo said. "That is not truth."

"It is the truth of fire," Dala replied. "This one seeks fire. There is no doubt of this."

"I do not seek fire," Ariana said. "I already have the gift of fire, and you will unhand me."

Ariana channeled the burning power within her into her limbs, giving herself strength and speed, throwing off her captors. She focused her power on moving faster, mimicking the way Dala had shifted from place to place, with abrupt but deliberate steps. On the way to the lava flows, she had noticed that one of the villagers carried her belongings and she grabbed the jeweled dagger, then she turned and made for Dala. Ariana stopped a few paces short of the woman when she saw Keira and Margo being moved toward edge of the cliff by the villagers, and the anger within her burned hotter still.

"Release them," she said, calling the fire from within her.

"You endanger them with your fire," Dala said. "You endanger us all."

"You think I fear you?" Ariana said, her question almost a growl. "You think I fear the fire? You have no quarrel with Keira and Margo, for they are of your order. I am not, but I am the rightful Queen of Maramyr, Princess of Solari and yes, I have the gift of fire. That is my truth and you would kill me for it?"

"The fire must be watched," Dala said. "The fire must never return, for it will bring the shadows, and the burning of the world."

"You have been breathing too much of this noxious smoke," Ariana told her and she raised her voice so the other villagers could hear. "The world already burns and the shadows have returned while you sit here, idle at the edge of the world."

"Lies," Dala said. "We have watched the fire."

"Ask them," Ariana said, glancing over at Keira and Margo. "They know the truth. You might learn from them, those of your order, those who seek the truth, what truly goes on in the world."

"It has been decided," Dala said, advancing on her. "You seek the fire, and you shall know it truly."

"You wish to send me to the flames?" Ariana asked, and she disappeared from the spot where she had stood then reappeared, standing at the edge of the cliff, looking over the burning sea of lava. "Then you shall have your wish, for I do not fear the fire. It will not harm me."

She looked over at her friends and smiled, then with only her dagger in her hand, she dove off the cliff, and disappeared into the wavering heat and the dark red glow of the lava below.

CHAPTER THREE

Cerric walked through the streets of the city, surrounded by a contingent of soldiers and observing the revelry of the people as night fell. The tournament had proved a successful attraction, especially with the plentiful fare on offer to the contestants and the arrangements that had been made that food and drink be sold cheaply to any and all who came to the city. Warriors had traveled from across the land and half of the surrounding countryside had flocked to Maramyr to watch the countless matches taking place. The treasury was bleeding coin at the cost of it all, but such things mattered little to Cerric. Soon, none of it would matter, and it amused him that so many had willingly walked into his trap.

The entourage of soldiers approached the large, stone temple that had recently been built at the center of the grand square, surrounded on all sides by the temples of old gods that had fallen from memory, relics of an irrelevant age. The mage priests had offered to tear down the other structures, but Cerric wanted them to remain for a short while longer, that they should stand witness to his supremacy as the one, true god. He left the soldiers outside walked in through the great doors of his temple, entering the grand chamber.

Inside the temple, the mage priests paused in their tasks, turning to bow their heads to him in respectful obeisance as he passed them, each of them bound to him and subject to his will. He felt their energy flowing through the lines of power that connected them to him, like an ever present vibration, and he felt the far stronger pulse and hum of the crystals that had been affixed throughout the large chamber and linked with others that were in the process of being placed throughout the city. At the center of them all, in the middle of the chamber, suspended above a pedestal was a much larger crystal that glowed like a star in the night sky, a focal point of power. Already infused with the energy of numerous mage, it would be further augmented by the rest of the crystals that would soon gather energy from the city and its people. Cerric walked toward the crystal and could feel the immense power collecting inside it and though he hungered impatiently for it, he knew it was only a portion of the greater power that would soon be his to control.

"Your grace," said one of the mages as she approached him.

She was a woman Cerric vaguely recognized as one of the first of his followers, recruited by Dakar many years ago. Through the thread of power that tied her to him, he peered into her mind and discovered a vague emptiness, her thoughts short and simple, as though she was little more than a set of simple questions to be asked and answers to be given. He looked deeper into her consciousness and found echoes and fragments from a time not long past, when her thoughts were clearer, with purpose and determination, and he remembered her name.

"You are called Yanick," he said.

"Yes," she replied.

"You are one of my most faithful."

"Yes, your grace."

"All of this, you have overseen, from the start."

"Yes, your grace."

"You shall be rewarded for your devotion."

"Thank you, your grace," she said, nodding tiredly.

Cerric walked up to the pedestal and looked down at the book that lay open atop it. He recognized its pages for the represented aspects of his own shifting thoughts. The image on the open page was of the crystal and a pair of eyes with the empty look of unquestioning obedience, lovely eyes that belonged to the mage who stood silently next to him, awaiting his command.

Cerric reached his hand up toward the large crystal that hung above the book and an arc of pure energy leapt to his fingertips and began to flow. The power that poured into him was exhilarating and he fought the urge to take more of it. As powerful as he was, such raw spirit was still seductive and tempting but it was necessary for the ritual, one that would bring him far more power than this, and with it he would forever change the world. He lowered his hand and took a deep breath, releasing the connection and looked down at the book. Cerric was surprised that it still showed the image of the woman's eyes, which had left his mind more than a few moments ago, and he watched as the page shifted to a different view of the crystal with an arc of power and his hand reaching toward it. He thought it strange that the images would change so slowly.

Cerric focused his power through his connection to the book and sent an image of utter darkness to it, a glimpse of the power within him. The change should have been immediate, but once again, it took several moments to shift. Cerric reached out toward the book and touched its pages, feeling its power and he immediately knew that it was not the same book that had been there on his previous visits to the temple. This book was only a copy.

"Where is the book?" he said, turning to the mage, who stood silently next to him.

"The book is here," Yanick said, with a dreamy smile upon her face.

Cerric swung his hand and struck her, his unnatural strength unleashed like a thunderclap, sending her flying across the temple. The mage hit the stone wall in a mess of broken bones and black cloth, then she fell with a thud, in a heap to the floor.

"Where is the book!" Cerric yelled, looking around the temple.

The mage priests bowed their heads, hiding beneath their cowls and Cerric reached out through the magic that bound them to him and searched their minds, searching for some sign that the book had been tampered with. Finally, he saw something in one of their memories, a mage standing before the book, talking with the woman, Yanick. He stalked across the chamber to where she lay on the floor and reached down, grabbing her by the back of her robe. Cerric lifted her up and her head lolled to the side, her cheek bloodied and broken where he had struck her, and her neck twisted around at an odd angle with the mindless smile still upon her face. The eyes that had looked at him from the pages of the book only moments ago were now lifeless and empty as was the husk of flesh that hung limply in his grip. He tossed her aside and walked back to the book.

"Post a guard inside the temple," he said to the remaining mages. "No one is to approach this book. No one."

Somehow, someone had switched the book for a lesser copy. It was a clever trick and one that would make things more difficult for him, but it would not matter. He was fairly certain it would not stop his plan, for the spell was already in place and the magic should no longer require the book, and the copy that replaced it would still allow him to direct the working of the magic. It was an inconvenience, but the real problem was that an original copy of the book was now gone, which would make such a spell difficult to replicate, and he wondered who might have taken it for he had not sensed the power of any of his adversaries that roamed the world. He cast his thoughts out to the other copies, and found that only one was open at the moment, the focal point for a group of mage priests elsewhere, working a similar spell. Cerric spoke in the mind of one of the mages, alerting him that guards should be placed around the book, that no one should be allowed in its presence, save for the mages and those he had given command. There were a few mages who had eluded the power of the book, and a few who could travel from place to place, which was an aggravating talent, one he had hoped to steal long ago. Still, he was sure that his mages would hear anyone who would use such magic and Cerric was fairly certain that they would be sufficient to fend off anyone who would try to steal from him.

*****

Stroma closed the book and stuffed it back in his robes. He quickened his step along the mountain trail and caught up to the girl Ehlena, who was walking alongside the confounding young man, Aaron, who was the cause of much worry. The others were a little further ahead on the trail but the old Ansari, Ashan, stopped and turned, staring at the god, with a questioning look. The rest of the group, the mages, Stavros, Calthas and Willem, along with the girl, Tash, the young Darga, Lexi, and the Ansari woman, Kasha, all stopped as well.

The old Ansari had been in the middle of a discussion about the nature of Ansari power, but he had somehow sensed the shift in Stroma's mood and it irritated the god that he was so perceptive. Even though Stroma was powerful and could hear the whispers and echoes of countless voices in the world, it had always unnerved him how Ashan could see even the subtlest changes in energy. It was almost as though the old Ansari could almost read his mind, but thankfully, the old man appeared to be the only one among his people whose ability was so refined, that he could discern the moods of a god. However, the Ansari was apparently not the only one who could sense his unease.

"What is it, Stroma?" Ehlena asked, her voice echoing faintly with the power of the goddess. While it irritated Stroma that Ashan could sense his moods, he felt strangely comforted that Ehlena could as well, for she had inherited all the knowledge of the goddess Ayra who had been his companion through the ages, and it seemed she had her intuition as well.

"It appears that Kenra has discovered that the book is missing from his temple," he said, setting aside his thoughts and memories of the goddess as she once was, and focusing on the matter at hand. "It had hoped he would not notice, but now that he has, our time to collect the books quickly grows short."

"What will the dark god do now that he knows?" Stavros asked.

"That I do not know," Stroma said. "Kenra's thoughts are intermingled with this Cerric, so it is more difficult to discern his intentions through the book, and I have had to be very careful to mask myself when viewing its pages. If it was risky to open the book before, it is far more dangerous to do it now. He is suspicious and has turned its pages to the dark power, the shadows that are at his core. The protective power I cast over the book to hide myself from being seen was absorbed by it almost in an instant. I was not seen, but he likely knows that we seek the books, though it is likely he would believe that our purpose is to stop the magic he has created."

"Is that not our purpose as well?" Stavros asked.

"No," Stroma said. "That spell has already been cast, and it can only be stopped by confronting Kenra directly, and we cannot fight him until the books have been gathered. With nearly every mage under his control, he is already too powerful. We must first break that spell, then the others will follow."

"You said there were three more books to collect," Aaron said. "What if we were to split up and go after them?"

"That will not be necessary," Stroma replied. "You must carry on with your training, Aaron, if you are to come to terms with your power. Stavros and Ashan should be equal to that task and, if I am correct about the reason Kenra cursed you with the shadow, the safest place for you right now is with the Ansari."

"And who will find the books?" Aaron asked. "If we can stop the dark god by destroying the books like you said, then maybe his power will die."

"If we destroy the books, it will free the mages and cut him off from their magic, but it will not completely stop his power. When the time comes, we will have to fight him, Aaron." Stroma looked around at the group, at each and every one of them. "Kenra has made himself a king, and this man, Cerric, who he has become, commands an army and is building his strength even now. He controls legions of powerful mages and all of their power is at his fingertips. Let us understand that he will not be defeated easily. We must find and destroy the books, but that will only be the first step on this path of conflict."

"It will be a battle then," Stavros said.

"It is already a war," Stroma replied. "Ehlena and I will seek the books, for we can travel quickly and avoid being seen. Calthas and Willem, you will travel to Maramyr and do what we discussed. Stavros, you and the Ansari must help Aaron to counter the shadow within. Kasha and Ashan, I hope you will both use your influence with your people and convince them to fight against Kenra, that they will stand against the shadow as they have done in the past. Impress upon them that if the other lands fall, the desert will fall under threat, and by then, Kenra's power may be too great for even the warriors of Ansari."

"I will speak of this with Ansari," Kasha said.

"As will I," Ashan added.

"Very well," Stroma said. "Ehlena, let us say our goodbyes here, and meet again once we have the books."

Ehlena turned to Aaron.

"I hope the Ansari will help you," she said. "Whatever you do, Aaron, whatever happens, never forget who you are. Always remember."

"Of course," Aaron said, but he knew she was not merely giving him advice, she was speaking of the shadow and what it could do to him, and he wondered at the similarity of her words to what Zachary had said before he had left. There were things the people around him were not telling him, but they were giving him hints. He nodded. "I understand."

Ehlena put her hand to his cheek and smiled. Her fingertips were cool like a light breeze and the feeling of her touch was both soothing and stirred something deep inside of him. Aaron saw her gaze turn, looking past him as she removed her hand and he knew she had looked toward Kasha. There was some kind of tension between them, and Aaron suspected it had to do with him, but he was not sure what to say or do about it. Perhaps, he thought, there was nothing he could do at this point.

"We must go," Stroma said.

Ehlena turned away and then she stopped and looked at Kasha.

"If you find troubles, call for me on the wind," she said. "I will come."

"Thank you," Kasha said.

A brisk wind whipped through the trees and the air crackled with lightning and in a blinding flash, Stroma and Ehlena were gone.

"I suppose we had better take our leave as well," Calthas said, clapping Willem on the shoulder, then he turned to Lexi, Kasha and Tash and bowed deeply with a smile. "My three lovely ladies, it saddens me that we must part, for Willem is a poor substitute for such strength, beauty and charm as I see before me now, thus I am now most jealous of Aaron and Stavros. Do not let either of them cause you any trouble."

Lexi looked confused and Tash giggled, while Kasha shook her head and smiled.

"We will try, mage," she said. "Good travels to you. May the winds be gentle and the sands cover your tracks."

"And to you. Good journey and may you fare well," Calthas replied.

"Do you remember everything Stroma has instructed you?" Stavros asked him.

"Of course, Stavros," Calthas said, and then he squinted and scratched his head. "Well, I think so. At any rate, I suppose we will find out."

"That does not inspire much confidence, Calthas," Willem said.

"Don't worry," Calthas said. "Stroma will protect you, whereas I will have to survive by my own cleverness. Luckily, I am somewhat clever."

"Let's hope so, for both our sakes," Willem said.

"This is perhaps not as fancy as a couple of gods can muster, but here goes," Calthas said and air around the two mages began to waver and, with a loud crack, the two mages were gone.

"Well," Stavros said. "We'd best get moving if we're to make it back to the desert lands anytime soon."

"Why must we walk there?" Aaron asked.

"Aaron, you have some things to learn before you face the Ansari warriors," Stavros told him. "If you are not ready, if you cannot control the shadow within you, then the Ansari will have no choice but to kill you."

"Then are we even going back to the desert?"

"Ashan believes you can learn from the Ansari, and I agree with him," Stavros told him. "It is also the safest place for you right now."

"The Ansari likely want me dead, and you call that safe?"

"Ansari do not wish you dead, Aaron," Kasha said. "We are sworn to destroy the shadow."

"The leader of your people wanted to kill me," Aaron said. "And it looked like every single one of the Ansari did as well."

"I don't want to kill you, Aaron," Tash said.

"Thank you, Tash," Aaron said.

"I will kill anyone who tries," Lexi said, scowling at Kasha.

"Thank you, Lexi," Aaron said.

"You are under my domain, Aaron," Kasha said. "That means that anyone who wished to do you harm would have to fight me first."

"You said that before," Lexi said. "You said we were all under your domain."

"You are," Kasha replied. "I am responsible for you, and you are under my protection among my people."

"I know that, but I don't want to cause problems for you with your people," Aaron told her. "I get the feeling that you may be in some trouble for disagreeing with the Ansari leader."

"I have made my choices freely," Kasha said. "I stand by my decisions."

"And if the shadow prevails?" Stavros asked. "What then?"

"Let us not peer into the future," Ashan said. "We are all agreed that Aaron should learn to use his power that he will find a way to remove the shadow from himself. I believe he can do this, as do the gods."

"If I fall to the shadow, I want you to promise that you will stop me," Aaron said, looking around at all of them. "With Ashan's help, I have learned more about the nature of the dark magic and it is a terrible power. If it claims me, if what happened in my fight in the Ansari camp happens again and the shadow truly takes hold of me, then I will no longer know you. I will no longer see you as friends, nor even as enemies. It is a mindless power, one that will destroy everything and everyone. It must be destroyed, no matter what. If it comes to that, promise that you will do what needs to be done."

"It will not come to that," Kasha said.

"I hope not," Aaron said, but he was not sure.

As upsetting as was the idea of putting them in such a position, he was glad that, at least, if the worst were to happen, then at least he would fall to people he cared about, and who were powerful enough to keep him from causing harm, however, what worried him was that they would face the power within him, both the fire and the shadow. The last thing he wanted was to put any of them in danger and he wished there was another way. For now, he would just have to focus on overcoming the shadow.

Aaron unbuckled one of the swords that hung at his waist, the sword he had taken from a thief, a strange man named Jax, what seemed like a long time ago, in a different life. Aaron held the blade and its scabbard out to Lexi.

"Lexi, you will need a proper weapon," he said.

"I cannot take your sword." She frowned and crossed her arms.

"Then I will lend it to you," he offered. "It isn't really mine anyway."

"Whose is it?"

"It belongs to a thief, if he still lives." Aaron shrugged.

"A thief?"

"He was definitely a thief. I caught him stealing from the Xallan Ambassador, a man named Rees."

"I know him," Lexi said. "He is very fat and pink."

"Yes, he was."

"Rees was a pig, always wanting more of everything, food, gold, jewels," Lexi told him. "My mother said it made him predictable and easy to control."

"I suppose it would," Aaron replied.

He had never given such things much thought, and he wondered what it must have been like being raised by someone like the Xallan Queen, or even Cerric for that matter. Ariana's uncle, as it turned out, had arranged to have her killed, and that was even before he had joined with this dark god, Kenra. Aaron shook his head, that people would do such things. He wondered how much of what was happening in the world was due to the god or the king, but Aaron figured it did not really matter, for they both wanted power and were willing to destroy anyone who might stand in their way, and from the sound of things, Lexi's mother was little different. These were dangerous people they would face, powerful adversaries, and one of them had the power of a god, as well as an army at his command. If that was to be their path, then at the very least, Lexi should have a decent sword. He held it out to her.

"Lexi," he said. "If we run into your mother's soldiers or have to fight against Cerric, you should have a sword. I already have a sword and you can give this one back to me later or perhaps give it back to the thief if he ever turns up."

Lexi sighed and uncrossed her arms.

"Fine then. I will give it back to you," she told him. "Or the thief."

"Good," Aaron said. "It's a good sword, almost identical to mine."

"Then you can kill the shadow god with the one you carry and I will kill Calexis with this one," Lexi said, flashing her sharp, pointed teeth as she reached out her hand.

"Agreed," Aaron said as she grasped the sword.

*****

"Where is Dakar?" Cerric demanded as he walked into the royal apartment.

"Isn't he one of your toys?" Calexis asked, not even looking up from the goblet of wine in her hand, her leg slung lazily over the arm of the chair upon which she sat. "Have you misplaced him?"

"I know he has been to see you," Cerric said. "It is strange that your conversations with him are so dull. You sit here and speak of nothing."

"Perhaps we enjoy each other's company."

"Nonsense," Cerric scoffed. "No one enjoys Dakar's company. He is a sniveling snake."

"Perhaps we spend our time commiserating," Calexis said, swinging her leg from the chair and rising from her seat. "Is there something wrong with that? Dakar is as loyal to you as I am. Does his magnificence, King Cerric require constant bowing and scraping? Should I kneel and worship you as befits a god? Is that what you would like?"

Calexis bowed her head and leaned forward, holding her wine glass precariously in front of her. Cerric could tell that she had already consumed a lot of wine.

"It is unbecoming of you to indulge so heavily," he said.

"Unbecoming? You are drunk with power and I am drunk with wine," she said. "What difference does it make?"

"Very little," Cerric said and he turned to leave.

"Pathetic," Calexis sneered.

Cerric stopped and he turned at her laughter. Irritated by her, he swung his arm toward her, the same way he had swatted the mage priest in the temple, but unlike the black robe, Calexis did not move. Holding her wine in one hand, she had caught his arm with her other and stopped him. The wine spilled a little, running over the pale skin and dark scales that ran up the back of her hand, but she ignored it, staring at him with her sultry eyes that seemed to be even more reptilian and predatory than he remembered.

"You are stronger than before," he commented.

"Am I?" She let go of her grip on his arm. Cerric saw that her sharp, pointed fingernails had left scratches on his flesh, which repaired itself almost instantly. "Perhaps I simply allowed you to manhandle me when you treated me better. I told you never to touch me again."

"Calexis, you continue to amuse me," he replied, ignoring what she had said. "Perhaps I made the right choice when I made you my queen."

"You could not have done better," she said. "Who else would celebrate your victories? Who else could share your glory in true appreciation of your power? You would destroy a lesser woman."

"I may destroy you yet," he said.

"You may try."

"Do not tempt me," Cerric growled but Calexis laughed.

"That is what I do best, husband. Do you not enjoy my temptation? Which do you prefer, to resist or to embrace it? Tell me and I will make the challenge even sweeter."

"Your thoughts are predictable," Cerric said.

"So what if they are?" she replied with a sly grin. "I make no secret of it."

"No," he said. "You are very blatant about such things."

"Is that not what you want, to know what lies in the hearts and minds of everyone? Isn't that what this magic you are creating is about? I see how you control your mages, your priests, and I have seen them busily working away, doing your bidding, placing these crystals about the city. It is obvious what you are about."

"What of it?"

"It bothers you, doesn't it," she said.

"What does?"

"That you cannot see into my mind."

"It is inconvenient, but amusing."

"It excites you."

"Does it?"

"It intrigues you that I might challenge you."

"It amuses me that you think you could, Calexis, and soon it will not matter," Cerric said. "You still haven't answered my question."

"What was that?"

"Where is Dakar?"

"I do not know," she said, taking a sip from the goblet. "I would imagine that he is studying his books or some such nonsense, whatever it is that mages do."

Cerric turned and walked from the room, leaving Calexis standing alone with her wine. Once he was gone, she drank down the rest of it and she began to shake. The guards had not warned her of his return, and she had not been expecting him. It was only thanks to her keen senses that she had heard his distinctive footsteps and scented his approach.

"He is gone," she said and a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows behind the drapes at the window.

"You play a dangerous game, Calexis," Draxis said.

"As do you," she said. "When did you decide to stop calling me mother?"

"When you left me to die on the battlefield," he replied, his tone cool and circumspect.

"I wanted to look for you, Draxis, but you have seen how Cerric is now."

"I have seen his power," he said. "I have seen how he casts aside those who he has no further use for. You are a hair away from being treated as such and a fool if you think otherwise."

"Do not presume to tell me such things, Draxis," she hissed and stepped from the place she had stood, leaving cracked footprints in the thick, stone floor. "Had I been any lesser than I am, he would have killed me right there."

Draxis saw the cracks in the stone and was amazed at the force that she had withstood and he wondered if she was always so strong, or if she had discovered a way to become stronger, as he had. He hefted the giant axe over his shoulder and walked back toward the window.

"I plan to win this tournament," he said. "Cerric will give me back my command, and then you will see my true power."

"I am glad to see that you are alive," she said, her tone softening for a moment. "That is enough for me."

Draxis pushed the drapes aside but he paused for a moment. He thought he might say something more to her but decided otherwise and he stepped up to the ledge of the window.

"Good bye, mother," he said and leapt out into the night sky.

Calexis walked over to the window and looked out at the night and the glow of torchlight from the city below but she saw no sign of him. Draxis had already gone. She worried about him, that he appeared to be focused on impressing Cerric, on winning back his favor, for despite her own efforts to rekindle the his interest, she knew that the god-king's favor was entirely according to his whims, which were becoming more abrupt and violent with every passing day.

Calexis slid her hand down her leg and felt the dagger strapped to her leg and felt the warmth of its power, still humming from the lives she had already taken that day, and she decided to spend some more time in the city, looking for more warriors who might pleasure her for a time and give her their strength once she was satisfied. She was not sure which thought excited her more, the knowledge that they would give her pleasure and then die by her hand, or the flood of power that would flow into her when she killed them. Calexis was beginning to understand why the god that lived within Cerric had such an unquenchable thirst for power, for it was a purpose in and of itself.

****

Cerric walked down the long, stone stairway, cursing his dark mood. He considered returning to Calexis and either bedding her or killing her, he could not decide which, or perhaps returning to the temple to test the power of the crystal, to be sure that the magic would work as he planned, but he knew there was little else he could do without Dakar, whose countless studies into ancient and forbidden magics had proven useful. Cerric damned the mage for disappearing, a fact that was increasingly irritating to him, for it was something that should not have even been possible given the magic that connected them.

Cerric shrugged, setting aside his ire. Either the magic of the crystals would work or it would not, and he reassured himself with the fact that his earlier test with the soldiers on the battlefield had been successful enough. They were bound to him every bit as much as the mages, except that, unlike the mages, who had powerful energies bound up in the essence of their being, as soon as the spell was cast, the soldiers were essentially dead, and the stink of their rotting flesh was beginning to wear on him. Some of them no longer even had skin on their bones in places, and of the legions that had returned with him from Kandara, he had sent the worst of them out of the city, to make sure that the common folk and the visiting competitors in the tournament would remain unaware of the true nature of the magic he had used.

His faithful had reported that there were rumors aplenty about the legions of soldiers whose white eyes glowed in the darkness and how they could continue fighting even when injured, but Cerric had spread some rumors of his own, that the legions of soldiers had been blessed by the priesthood with powerful magic that made them stronger, seemingly invincible. The lies they had spread fed into the promise of the powerful rewards that would be given to those who fought well in the tournament and the reports that had come back after the matches were very promising. Soon he would have an army led by elite fighters, more than powerful enough to take on the elves and any other creatures that might stand in his way.

Cerric was fairly certain that, this time, the magic would not entirely kill those who fell under its spell, but without the original copy of the book to focus the magic, there was now the possibility that his control over them might not be as complete. He cursed Dakar for leaving him and cursed himself for not maintaining a closer watch on the mages who lived under his magic. He heard the familiar echoes of voices in the back of his mind, cursing him for his arrogance, and he banished them back to the dark corners of this thoughts where they belonged.

He continued down the stairway to the long hall at the bottom and he opened the door to the chamber where he spent his evenings of late and, when he unblocked the door and entered, he was greeted by a sight that surprised him. The raised platform where his captive usually lay was empty, and only the streaks of dried blood remained and broken chains littered the floor.

Cerric immediately called his power as a dark, heavy weight crashed into him, knocking him across the room. Claws and snapping teeth cut at him as he tumbled across the floor with the creature. Cerric felt power infuse his entire being, and his flesh became like iron and his strength as great as a dragon. He grabbed the creature by the neck and flung it away from him. With a balance natural to such beasts, it landed on its feet and skidded to a halt, sniffing the room, and a tongue that was now forked flicked out of its mouth, tasting the air.

"I see you have discovered a little more of your true nature," Cerric said, taking the opportunity to take a good look at the changes in the young Kandaran. Like a Darga, but larger and more deadly, the boy now resembled his uncle, the duke, who had died at the hands of the Draxis and his Darga legions with their iron spikes and chains. It was far from a complete transformation, but it was a good beginning, and Cerric hoped that Elric would continue his transformation into the beast that lurked within all of the Kandaran nobles.

"I will kill you," Elric growled, his voice guttural behind rows of pointed teeth.

"You may try," Cerric said. "Do you think you are as strong as a dragon?"

"I care not," Elric roared and leapt toward him.

Cerric swung his fist at the Kandaran but the creature moved faster than he had expected, his sharp teeth grabbing his arm and his powerful neck and torso pulling back in one movement, yanking him off his feet. Cerric landed hard but managed to keep his balance and used his momentum to throw the creature the same way, slamming him into the floor. Elric gasped from the impact and his jaw unclamped, involuntarily releasing the arm of his captor. With unnatural speed and crushing power, Cerric brought down his fist, but Elric rolled out of the way. The floor shook from the force of the blow, and Cerric barely managed to block a handful of claws that swiped at his face. He knocked the creature's attack away and leveled another punch, his fist connecting with Elric's chest. The Kandaran took the full force of it and flew backwards, smashing against the wall. With blinding speed, Cerric closed the distance between them and grabbed the gasping reptilian by the throat, holding him up against the wall.

"Would you like me to hit you again?" he asked.

Winded, and barely able to breathe, Elric could not respond, but Cerric could feel the hot anger emanating from him and he saw him change a little more, turning more reptilian before his eyes. He smiled, having suspected that such emotions might fuel the Kandaran's transformation. It was good that Elric was now showing some resistance, instead of the dejected complaining to which he had succumbed on so many of these past nights they spent together, and Cerric wondered if it might have been a mistake to be so arbitrary in his torture. The application of pain had produced some results, but the raw emotion emanating from Elric was palpable and it reminded Cerric of his fight with the boy's father. The same anger had rippled through the air around the dragon, and it appeared that emotion might be a core element for such creatures. As disgusting as such emotional thinking was to him, Cerric considered how he might anger his captive further.

"I received a report from Duke Mirdel in Kandara," he told him. "He informs me that the Kandaran people are most pleasing to his soldiers, though he was forced to discipline a legion of Darga for playing a little too rough with your people and feeding on them afterward. Terrible creatures, these Darga. Beasts they are, so similar to the Kandaran lords. I have suggested to Mirdel that he might try breeding them with your precious Kandarans. Your people are so docile and obedient, it occurred to me that mixing the bloodlines might temper the violent nature of the Darga. It will be interesting to see what comes of such a thing. At worst they will make for stronger slaves, to labor in the mines, but if the breeding is successful, the Kandaran people would become a truly powerful race to command, don't you think?"

"You are a monster," Eric rasped, still gasping for air from behind Cerric's grip.

"Go ahead and hate me, Elric," Cerric said. "You are angry, and perhaps you are right to be angry. I do not know if it is true, but the Darga have asked that I punish the people of Kandara for the thousand years they have lived on lands they have stolen, land that once belonged to the Darga."

"Lies," Elric growled. "The land was not stolen. The Kandaran people have done nothing wrong."

"That is not what the Darga tell me," Cerric said and he released the Kandaran and turned away from him, walking away slowly as he caught his breath, and tempting him to attack.

"The Darga lie," Elric said. "They are liars! They are filthy creatures."

Cerric glanced over his shoulder as the Kandaran stepped forward, stalking toward him.

"You would call them such?" he tutted. "You are just like them, a vile, filthy lizard, pretending to be something else. Why don't you accept what you are? Are you a beast?"

"No!" Elric said and he leapt forward. "I am not a beast!"

"I say you are!" Cerric yelled as he caught the Kandaran and slammed him to the floor, using nearly as much force as he had when he had fought the boy's father, a true dragon, though weaker than the ones in the ancient memories of the god.

Cerric could tell that Elric was barely able to breathe, the wind knocked almost completely out of him. He grabbed the creature by the shoulder and dragged him across the room and, with one hand, he picked him up and slammed him onto the platform. With a wave of his hand, the broken iron chains wrapped around Elric, stretching to match his enlarged size and closing once again, locking him in place.

"And now you will torture me again?" he said, his voice hoarse as tears streamed from the corners of his empty eye sockets.

"No," Cerric told him. "I think I will spend this evening torturing your people instead. It isn't quite the same, visiting other places through the mind and body of another, but I need only a pair of hands and some sharp implements, and Mirdel has amassed quite the collection. How many of them will suffer, Elric? All because you are weak."

"They have done nothing," Elric growled, his voice wracked with desperation. "What is it you want from me?"

"I want you to challenge me, Elric," Cerric said. "Surely you are stronger than your feeble, old father. Show me the pride of the Akandra. Show me the true power of the dragon lords of Kandara."

"I will not become a beast," Elric said.

"Then your people, those who it is your duty to protect, will suffer, and needlessly so," Cerric said. "It is sad how low your kind has fallen. Did you know that dragons were once powerful enough to challenge the gods."

"I will hear no more of your lies," Elric said.

"You are powerful, Elric Akandra, but you lie to yourself, embracing weakness as though it is something noble." Cerric sighed through a smile that he knew the Kandaran could not see. "The truth is very simple. If you can kill me, then your people will be saved. I will leave you to think on that."

"Why do you do such things?" Elric asked.

"Why?" Cerric laughed. "I do them because I can."

He walked from the room and back up the stairs from the dungeon to the palace. A group of guards stood ready, alerted by the commotion but dutifully obeying his orders that he not be disturbed and they snapped to attention at his approach.

"Is all well, highness?" asked the commander, one of the dead soldiers who had fared better in the war than most, the only signs of his conversion being the pallor of his face and the grayish white color of his eyes.

"Well enough," Cerric said. "I expect that our guest will rail and scream a little more than usual this night as the truth of his monstrous nature begins to emerge. Pay the creature no mind, but look in on the room to ensure that he does not escape his chains again."

"Humblest apologies, King Cerric," the man said, mortified that the prisoner had gotten free. "We will keep a close watch."

"It is no matter," Cerric said. "The creature is blind and cannot go very far without attracting attention, but if he gets loose again, he is likely to cause a great deal of damage. Whatever happens, he is not to be killed, but you must do your best to keep him at bay until I return."

"As you command, your highness."

"As you were, then," Cerric said and he continued up into the palace.

He walked out into the main entrance hall and surveyed the damage that had occurred when the mage, Zachary had attacked. His soldiers had cleared most of the rubble, and workers from the city, who had been told that the mess had been caused by a spell gone wrong, were busily restoring the vast chamber to an approximation of what it once was, with a few artistic changes that pleased Cerric, primarily being the removal of the carvings and motifs of the gods that once had standing in the city, primary among them being the goddess of the sea, Mara, after whom the city was named.

The part of him that was Kenra had memories of the goddess, who was his sister, and he wondered what had become of her. Unlike the other gods, he suspected that she had not left the world but had stayed, though it seemed that she had disappeared almost completely. There was almost no trace of her power in the world, but he knew that it could simply be the obscuring effect of the sea itself, which made it harder to sense energy and was also her elemental domain. The other gods were more obvious and when Cerric had visited the temple he had felt the lingering power of the one he hated most, Stroma, and he wondered how much influence the god might still possess in the world. Mara could wait, the god-king decided, but if Stroma was moving against him, he might have to put his plans in motion a little sooner than he had intended.

Cerric reached out with his power across the numerous lines that bound the mages to him and he compelled them to direct more of their energy into the crystal at the temple. He felt a faint flicker of power from Dakar and knew that even though he was somewhere to the east, just beyond the reach of his consciousness, and Cerric wondered if Dakar might be up to something. Even if he could not reach him fully with his thoughts, he could still take his energy and he knew that the mage would most certainly feel the pull of his power. At the very least, Dakar would still be of some use to him, and he pulled a greater measure of it from him and every other mage that might be with him.

CHAPTER FOUR

Stroma and Ehlena walked across the bluish green grass that grew from the edge of the rocky coast on the windswept island. They made their way inland, wending among numerous ancient pillars and columns that appeared in their path, so many of them fallen and crumbling, and they were surprised at how quiet everything was, almost eerily so.

"Do you remember this place?" Stroma asked, still wondering how many memories of the goddess Ehlena had retained.

"I do," Ehlena said. "It is strange to see it now, fallen from what it once was. I see the images of people I once knew, faces from the past, places that are now little more than echoes of what they were." She looked at the god, who walked beside her. "They are not my memories but I know them as though they are. That is strange enough at times."

"I would imagine so," Stroma replied. "I find it strange as well."

Ehlena chose not to say anything, though she knew what he meant. Stroma and the Lady, the goddess Ayra, had been companions over the ages, and in some ways they might have been considered husband and wife, and she retained memories of all that went along with such a relationship. It was something she and the Lady had spoken about at length as they had become one, with Ayra hoping that the experiences of her own life would not affect Ehlena's feelings and choices with regard to her own.

"There," Stroma said, pointing ahead toward several large, pillared buildings that came together to make an ancient palace of sorts. "The old structure still stands."

"I thought this place would be teeming with mages," Ehlena said. "Even though the stones of the island obscure power from the outside world, the wind still travels across its surface and it has become very quiet here, and I have heard little."

"I was here, some time ago," Stroma said. "There were many mages here but they did not see me for I was not myself at the time. It is strange that we have not encountered any of them, but perhaps many of the mage priests have gone to Maramyr to work in service to Kenra for the monstrosity he is planning."

"I have heard many of their voices in the city of late, but until this day I heard voices here as well, but now they are silent," Ehlena said and then she saw something and ran ahead.

Gathered around a dais atop which sat an altar was a group of fallen mage priests, strewn upon the ground and looking as though they had collapsed. What shocked Ehlena most was how they looked. It was as though they had been completely drained, not just of their power, but of their life energy as well, their skin pulled tight and gaunt underneath, like dried carcasses that had been baked in the sun. One of them coughed, a dry hack, and Ehlena jumped back, startled that someone could still be alive in such a state.

"Please stop," whispered the mage, who Ehlena realized was a young woman, who now looked like an ancient crone, her eyes turned milky with blindness. She knelt down next to the woman, careful not to touch her, and knowing that even if her eyes could see, she and Stroma had obscured themselves from being seen by anyone who might look in their direction, even with magic.

"What a horrific thing," Stroma commented, carefully reaching out with his power and shifting his vision. He saw the faint line of power that still pulsed from the mage, leading off in the distant direction of Maramyr and knew that Kenra had taken her power to the point that her life energy was being taken as well. The same thing appeared to have already been done to the other mages who were now little more than husks upon the ground.

"Kenra has done this," Ehlena said.

"He uses the magic of the book," Stroma said. "It was not meant for such a purpose. It was intended for the opposite of this."

"Did you not take the book from Maramyr? How can he still take their power without it?"

"The power of the book creates the connection," Stroma explained. "Once it is done, the book is no longer necessary to maintain it."

"But the connection can be broken using the book," Ehlena commented, reminding him of what he had told her and the others.

"Yes," Stroma said. "The magic of the book is required, but Kenra has twisted it with death magic, so the bond cannot be broken so easily."

"What troubles this book has created," Ehlena said, frowning at the god as the misgivings of the goddess whirled around in her mind. "It was a mistake to create it in the first place."

"It was not created for this purpose," Stroma said. "You know this."

"I do," Ehlena said. "Yet, it is terrifying what Kenra has done with it."

"Yes, it is," he said as he knelt next to the dying mage priest and watched as the line of power that bound her to the dark god faded and disconnected, the woman's energy no longer enough to sustain it.

Now that she was no longer connected to Kenra, Stroma placed his hand on her forehead and let a small amount of power flow into her. The woman gasped and her eyes opened wide as her consciousness returned and the image of the god appeared in her vision.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You know who I am," Stroma said, his voice as calm and reassuring as he could make it. "There is an echo of your footsteps in my temple from long ago, where you would visit often before you turned to the black cloth. You remember now."

"I do," she replied, then tears began to stream down her leathery cheeks. The woman rolled onto her side, curling up and burying her face in the black cloth of her robes. "Please, do not look upon me."

"There is no shame," Stroma said. "You did not willingly embrace the dark power. I have seen your thoughts and I know the truth."

"Forgive me," she said. "I was not strong enough."

"You never stopped fighting his power," Ehlena said and the woman sighed between her sobs and looked up toward her. Ehlena felt the tentative touch of the woman's magic, briefly rekindled by Stroma's gift, reaching out to her, curious at who she might be, who would accompany the god, and her tears began anew when she recognized her power.

"You have returned," she said, her face cracking into a painful smile. She closed her eyes and lay back upon the ground. "The gods have returned. Blessings be upon us."

"Rest now," Stroma said, and they watched as the last wisp of energy ebb from the mage as her essence flickered and died. Stroma looked up at Ehlena with a dark expression, his eyes like thunderstorms. "So little remained of her, only that small part that once held to my name. Kenra steals everything, their power, their thoughts, their minds and even their bodies."

"Come," Ehlena said. "We must search for the book."

Stroma closed the woman's eyes and they both rose and continued onward toward the tall structure at the center of the island, the last surviving evidence of what once was, long ago, the place the mages continued to make their studies into the mysteries of magic. They walked between the high pillars that marked the entrance to the main building and into a cavernous hall, ignoring the numerous piles of black cloth scattered in various places, with limbs and horrified faces peering out from underneath.

"It is here," Stroma said, stepping over another fallen mage lying at the threshold of another chamber. "I can feel it up ahead."

Inside were rows upon rows of high shelves, lined with innumerable books and scrolls, a treasure trove for any scholar, the repository of knowledge gathered by countless generations of mages. Past the stacks of books at a large table, sat a mage under a black cowl with his hand on a single, leather bound book that lay upon surface of the table. Scattered all around him were more dead mages, but they were not drawn and gaunt like the others, and from the scorch marks and spatters of blood on the glossy stone floor, it was obvious they had been killed by the mage, and recently, it seemed.

Stroma and Ehlena approached slowly, fairly certain that the mage would not be able to see them for they had once again concealed their power, and he showed no sign of noticing their approach. They could both see a strange aura of energy surrounding the mage and his power was concentrated where his hand rested atop the book. Stroma stepped closer to him and looked down at the book.

"The book is closed, face down and turned top to bottom," he said. "If the book were in its original state, this mage would have freed himself from its power by this method."

"What is he doing?" Ehlena asked. "It is as though he is frozen in the middle of some kind of spell."

Stroma lifted the mage's hood and pushed it back over his head, revealing yet another gaunt face that had been stripped of life, except that the mage's eyes moved, and his head even tilted a little as he looked around with a panicked expression.

"Who is there?" he rasped, his voice dry and harsh, echoing in the silence of the cavernous library.

"He is alive," Ehlena said.

"Yes, and he senses our presence," Stroma said, leaning and looking closely at the mage. "It is very strange. The connection to Kenra has been broken, as though he has passed the point of death, but he is still trapped by the power of the book itself. If I am not mistaken, this man is already dead, and yet somehow, some part of him still lives."

"Will Kenra see us if we reveal ourselves?"

"No," Stroma said. "So long as the book remains closed, he will see nothing, but it is better that you remain hidden. I suspect Kenra has already sensed my power in the world, so it matters little if I reveal myself to this mage."

Stroma released the energy that obscured his presence and the mage saw him appear right in front of him, standing next to the table where he sat, trapped and unable to move.

"Who are you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "I know the face of almost every mage and I do not recognize you."

"I am no mage," Stroma said. "You may not know me, Dakar, but I know who you are."

"Have you come to kill me?" Dakar asked. "Cerric sent you, didn't he? He knows."

"Cerric does not have the power to command me," Stroma said. "And no, I have not come to kill you, Dakar. I have come for the book."

"The book is useless," he said.

"I see you have attempted to free yourself from it," Stroma said. "I also see that your attempts have failed."

"There is no way to be free of its power," Dakar scoffed. "I have tried magics that are known to no living mage, secret spells from distant ages, forbidden powers that only I have discovered, and nothing has worked. Cerric, and this god within him, have doomed us all."

"You would lay this at the feet of this king Cerric?" Stroma asked, his skepticism thick in his voice. "Were you not the one who found the books and spread their power across the lands? Are you not the one who first communed with Kenra, the one who opened the path that brought him into this world?"

"You know many things," Dakar hissed, his eyes turning suspicious for a moment, then his frustration returned. "What shall I say? I was mistaken? I was a fool? It matters not. I suffer no illusions, not anymore, and I care little for blame. Kill me if you will. I welcome death."

"No," Stroma said, leaning in toward him and looking him in the eye, his voice becoming deeper and more powerful as he spoke. "Death is too good for you, Dakar. This little trap you have found yourself in must be sheer torture, existing in a lifeless corpse, unable to move, to do anything except to sit there and feel your body slowly begin to decompose. What will it feel like when your flesh finally turns to dust and only your bones remain. Will it be painful? Surely that chair upon you sit cannot be comfortable. How long before it becomes excruciating. Do you feel pain in this state, Dakar?"

"Did you come here to scoff at me?" Dakar asked, his voice growing angry. "Is that why you have come, to take the book and laugh at my fate? Take it and go. Either kill me or leave me in peace. But torment me no more."

"Why should I do what you say?"

"What do you want of me?" Dakar asked, his voice a low rasp.

"I want nothing of you, but you deserve to suffer," Stroma said and his voice rumbled with power that reverberated through the library like dark thunder.

"Then you already have your wish," Dakar said. "Yes, this chair is terribly uncomfortable, if you must ask, and it is very painful and sickening to feel one's innards turning to mush, and it happens surprisingly quickly. Do you know what it feels like to rot from the inside?"

"No, I do not," Stroma told him. "I would think that you would be accustomed to such a thing, with the choices you have made."

"How amusing," Dakar sneered. "And I hope it amuses you, whoever you are. Now, if you don't mind, I have some dying and rotting to do and I would prefer to do it without your pestering. Take the blasted book and begone."

Stroma raised his hand to strike the mage but Ehlena touched his arm.

"It is enough," she said, her voice silent to the mage. "He is trapped here, and his pain and fear are plain to see."

"You would strike at someone who is defenseless," Dakar yelled. "That is the sure mark of a coward!"

"You have no right to speak such words!" Stroma thundered, pushing Ehlena's hand away and raising his hand once again. "You and your god have made slaves of so many with the twisted power of this book, and you have killed countless others, few of them with the power to defend themselves, and you would dare speak of cowardice?"

"No, you speak the truth of it," Dakar said, licking his dry lips with his brittle tongue. "I do not have that right. Strike me if you will."

Stroma paused.

"I am trapped here," Dakar said, his voice cracking in desperation, his body barely to move, but trembling nonetheless. "I know this, for I know the ways of magic and I know what I have done. I am caught at the moment of death and cannot free myself, and this predicament is entirely of my own making. I know this, and I am at your mercy and the mercy of anyone who might happen upon me. That is the truth if you must know.

"I thought myself to be clever, that I could gain the favor of a god and become powerful, but I learned the truth of that power, of the lies that bind and twist tighter with every step. But this is not the first trap I have fallen into. I have been trapped ever since I found that accursed book, and though I may be stuck here in this dying, rotting corpse, which is a fate I likely deserve for the things I have done, many of them willingly, it is far better than being touched the dark power for even a moment longer."

"Is it within your power to free him?" Ehlena asked Stroma.

"It is," he replied. "It will require the magic of the book, and it is not without risk so I would rather not."

"Who do you speak to?" Dakar asked.

"That is none of your concern, mage," Stroma told him.

"If we take the book, even if we destroy it, will he be trapped like this forever or will he be released?" Ehlena asked.

"It appears that this trap he is caught was created in part by the book, but is not sustained by it," Stroma said as he took a closer look at the power that remained within the mage. "What has happened here should not be possible, but the spell circles in upon itself. It is a strange form of immortality, though it appears that the price of it is being trapped in almost perfect stasis. Tell me, mage, how did you achieve this."

"It is an old magic, a spell that would allow one to be in more than once place at the same time," Dakar said. "I simply created my second self within myself instead of separating the two."

"Clever, but doing such a thing is not so simple. I know of this magic, and it is very painful to split your essence," Stroma said. "Why would you do such a thing?"

"Why?" Dakar was incredulous. "To stop him from knowing my every thought and to try to free myself. Why else?"

"But you were a loyal follower," Stroma said. "Under the power of the book, Kenra would have known your thoughts and he would have perceived what you were planning to do."

"He did not know," Dakar said. "This is a magic I learned long ago, before I found the book, and created a hidden place with it, for my thoughts and the forbidden things I learned. When Cerric was busy with the war in Kandara, I came here to this island and discovered that the bond was weak and could be broken for a time. That was when I took the part of my mind where I kept my secrets and created this place within my thoughts, imbuing it with all of my knowledge and a small measure of my power, not enough that he would notice, but enough to sustain myself, a refuge where I could continue to work on freeing myself."

"And this refuge has now become a prison," Stroma commented.

"Sadly, yes," Dakar replied. "That is the truth of it."

"Why not release him?" Ehlena asked. "What good does it serve to keep him thus?"

"It is a fitting punishment for the terrors he has unleashed upon the world. And if I released him, it is unlikely that he would survive the day. It would mean his death."

"And then what?" Ehlena asked. "Dakar can do no more harm. I can see how little of his essence remains, and condemning him helps nothing."

Stroma looked at her, and she could tell that his anger was subsiding a little and that he might her suggestion.

"In a way, this is similar to what happened to me, only this mage has retained his full consciousness and his knowledge by remaining within himself, whereas I became like a corporeal spirit, only half in the world, missing pieces of who I was, and unseen by all, with only one odd exception." Stroma sighed. "It was maddening to be cursed in such a way, but I was able to move about and acquire knowledge, and that was enough to continue on from one day to the next. This mage has no such hope."

"Who are you?" Dakar asked again. "You speak of magics that most mages have not even considered. Why do I not know of you?"

"Who do you think I am?" Stroma asked, his voice calm, without a hint of power.

"I can tell that you are powerful," Dakar said. "You hide your power well, but I am no fool."

"Then tell me, Dakar," Stroma said, his voice rumbling with thunder as the library darkened, its high ceilings suddenly brimming with storm clouds and lightning of pure energy crackling in the air. "Who do you think I am?"

Dakar's eyes widened and he felt as though his heart would have burst in his chest if it had not already stopped beating. The power that filled the room was far beyond that of a mage and he knew who it was that stood above him, deliberating his fate with some other, who remained hidden, though he could sense great power in whomever it was.

"Enough," Ehlena said. "Now you are frightening him."

"He deserves to be frightened," Stroma rumbled.

"Perhaps, but now that you have succeeded at that, will you grant him some small mercy?"

"If he wishes mercy, he must ask," Stroma said, letting his power go.

"Is it so simple?" Dakar whispered.

"It is," Stroma told him. "If I choose to believe you, that you ask it with truth."

Dakar thought about the things he had done, even before he had fallen under the spell of the book and the influence of the dark god. He remembered himself as a young mage, not as talented as others, but clever and more determined, driven to become powerful, no matter the cost. And now, here he was, with nothing but an empty shell of a body, barely clinging to life when he should already be dead, helpless despite all his clever schemes.

"No, I will not ask for mercy," Dakar said. "But I will tell you some things you might find useful. Even with the book, the god is not as powerful as he pretends to be. His magic cannot control the Darga though that is a problem he hopes to solve, and there are times when he fights with Cerric and maybe others within him for control. Much of the time he is Cerric, the king of Maramyr, using the power of Kenra the god of shadows and mysteries, but he has also claimed to be Kroma, the god of the mountain and I have wondered about this."

"That is interesting about the Darga creatures," Stroma said. "They are related to dragonkind, who follow no gods. As for Kenra's lies, pretending to be Kroma, and hiding in the guise of this king, Cerric, that is hardly a revelation."

"I do not think he pretends," Dakar said. "I believe Kroma is within him, and it causes him much confusion, even though he hides it."

"I thought Kenra stole Kroma's power when he killed him," Ehlena said, echoing the memories of the goddess.

"Perhaps not," Stroma said, then he looked at Dakar. "It may be that some part of Kroma survives within him, and if this mage is correct, I would imagine that it would not have made the last thousand years particularly enjoyable. You have offered something of value, but if you think to bargain with me, you are sorely mistaken, mage."

"I seek no bargain," Dakar said. "If I could offer more to help stop the power of the shadow, I would."

"And you think you are to be trusted?"

"Trusted? I have been under the power of the book for the greater part of my life, there is no reason to trust me," Dakar said. "Believe what you will and do what you will."

Stroma let out a great sigh, then he slid Dakar's hand from the book and picked it up. He looked at it for a moment then he slipped it into his robe with the other two copies he carried. He turned from the mage and began to walk away and Ehlena hung back for a moment, conflicted with what she knew was undeserved sympathy for Dakar and anger over the things he had done, the role he had played in bringing Kenra back into the world.

Though she had argued for mercy, the damage that had already been wrought because of Dakar's actions, and the thought of the darkness that was growing inside Aaron were surely reasons enough to punish the mage, but she also knew that Dakar would have been under the influence of the book, compelled by Kenra to many of the things he did, and though he was still responsible for his actions, it was perhaps to a lesser degree. Since only Stroma knew how the magic of the book truly worked, having created it in the first place, the decision was ultimately his, and it seemed he had made up his mind. Ehlena frowned, and took one last look at the mage, her thoughts only of pity, then she turned and hurried after Stroma.

"Please," Dakar said, calling after Stroma, his voice cracking and shaking.

Stroma stopped.

"Please just let me die."

Ehlena gently touched the back of Stroma's arm and she realized it was something that Ayra would have done long ago and she took her hand away, feeling that it was not her place to do such a thing. The god turned and stared at her.

"You are so much like her," he said, quietly, masking his voice from Dakar, then he walked back toward the mage.

Stroma took the book from his robes and closed his eyes. Ehlena could not see exactly what he was doing, but she felt a gentle pulse of magic in the room and the subtle, natural shifts in the air inside the chamber slowed. A moment later, she heard the sound of the book snapping closed and Stroma turned and walked away from the mage, putting the book away once again. He continued past her, his expression dark as he walked away and Ehlena saw Dakar slowly push back the chair and rise to stand on his feet. She smiled a little, not so much for Dakar, but glad that Stroma had seen fit to show some measure of mercy, that his heart had not been hardened completely by his own ordeal, then she turned and hurried after him.

Dakar watched the god leave and he felt a little sensation return to his flesh, and the sickening feeling that had been eating away at him began to fade. His body was no longer a frozen corpse, but he realized that he was not entirely alive either. Somehow, Stroma had halted his decay, and given him enough control over his limbs that he could move freely. Dakar reached for his power and he felt how little of it remained, barely enough to accomplish even the simplest of magics and he knew immediately that if he dared to use it, he would die in an instant, for it was all that sustained him. Dakar walked across the room, his steps unsteady, his limbs lacking the strength to run after the god, who had left the library only moments ago.

"Wait," he called and he reached out as he crossed the threshold of the room.

Dakar stopped and snatched his hand back as it immediately began to wither and crack. He stumbled backwards into the room and clutched his hand to his chest and watched as it slowly healed, but only as much as it had been before, still tight and aged, and he felt a little of his essence drain away. He sat down on the floor and realized that even though he was free of the book, free of the power of the dark god, and free of the magical trap he had caught himself in, he was now in a different trap, cursed never to leave this room, for he would surely die if he did. Dakar looked around at the thousands of books on so many shelves, and he wept, for the god had not granted his request, but had instead given him a choice, which was much harder to accept, but he knew it was a far greater mercy, for at least his will was now his own.

Ehlena walked with Stroma past the pillars of the entrance and along the ancient stone path that quickly faded to grass, his powerful strides forcing her to take a few extra steps to keep up with him. She could tell that he was in a dark mood, but she was unsure whether it had to do with the mage or something to do with having opened the book.

"Is all well?" she asked. "It appears that you were successful with the magic of the book?"

"No," he said. "The magic of the book has been corrupted. I thought there might be a way, but it has become so twisted and dark with shadows that it was not possible."

"And yet you freed the mage," Ehlena said.

"No," Stroma told her. "I did not free him. I merely expanded he magic that kept him alive and tied it to the structure of the library. There is enough resonant power in those old stones to last several lifetimes, but he can never leave that place or he will die."

"Then it was a mercy," she said.

"I would call it a curse," Stroma said. "At least if he tires of it, he has but to walk out the door."

"Then it is fair," Ehlena said. "He can no longer harm anyone, and perhaps he can find a way to atone for the things he had done."

"At least he has books to read," Stroma commented. "He has some catching up to do though. I spent most of the last thousand years in libraries."

"I can think of worse places to be," Ehlena said, smiling at him. "If I were ever cursed in such a way, I would prefer to have a garden."

"You truly are like her," he said. "Though I have a complete understanding of how it is that you and she are one and the same, it appears that Ayra chose well."

"Thank you," Ehlena said. "We will both take that as a compliment, as we are one."

Stroma shook his head and smiled, then he gathered his power and searched for the next book in the direction he already knew it would be. A moment later, with a crack of thunder, the two of them disappeared, leaving the windswept island of bluish green grass and fallen columns, an empty place, save for the bodies of dead mages and the one who remained, barely alive, and haunting the ancient library like a spirit.

CHAPTER FIVE

Fire. Thick waves of heat. Currents of scorching energy, rippling with color, scents and tastes of ash, stone and metal. Harsh, acrid bubbles, slowly rising, bursting wet and thick upon the surface above.

Ariana floated in a strange sea of liquid fire, petrified at what she had done and barely able to comprehend that she had not been burned to death. Disoriented by the heat and the thick flows that moved around her, she slowly found her consciousness. All around her, within the hot, reddish glow, were colors, some of which she had never seen before. They swirled around her in infinite and captivating hues and shades that were almost entrancing, but something kept pulling her away, calling to her.

Ariana felt her heart pounding louder in her chest, the beat of it thrumming in her skull as the instinct to breathe was countered by another instinct that told her to let the heat flow through her. It was too much for her and Ariana felt as sense of panic begin to take hold. In a corner of her mind, she knew that heat would rise and the popping sounds would be at the surface. She swam through the heavy, burning liquid, pushing herself as hard as she could. Finally, she broke through the surface and gasped for breath, sucking in heat and smoke and choking burning air as molten fire slid from her cheeks.

She opened her eyes and saw the dark outline of rock ahead and she swam toward it. Finally, reaching its edge, Ariana slowly pulled herself out from the hot flow of lava and she lay on the rock for a moment, breathing slowly, gathering her thoughts, which felt as though they had scattered in all directions. She pushed herself to her feet and noticed that she still held the jeweled dagger in her hand. The heat had not damaged it, and it seemed that it was slightly longer than it had been, though she was not sure, for it could easily be the heat playing tricks on her and she blinked, trying to clear her head, simply grateful that she was still alive, and part of her wondering how it was possible, while another part of her accepted that it should be so.

Ariana turned and looked back across the waves of heat that rose from the rivers of lava and tried to see the place atop the rocks from where she had leapt, but nothing looked familiar. With vision that was somehow different than before, she saw that the rivers of liquid fire were moving in currents and eddies and realized that she had no idea how long she had been beneath the surface, nor how far the flows might have carried her. The only thing Ariana knew for sure was the direction she had to go, and she set off across the scorching rocks, and wading through the lava with her bare feet as though it were only mud.

The intensity of the heat did not bother her at all, just as she had not felt the biting cold outside the dwellings of the village in the snow and Ariana wondered if it was the effect of the gems that had been attached to her body. She glanced down at them and stopped in her tracks. The places where the gems had been were no longer simple holes poked in her skin, but were now completely fused with her, and it was as though the gemstones had grown into clusters, spreading outward in almost natural seeming patterns. Her skin had also taken on a strange luster, almost metallic and she recognized the look of it from the colors she had seen underneath the lava flows. Ariana ran her fingers over her body and found that much of her skin was no different, except for the places where the crystalline gems had formed into what almost like scales. She was surprised at how she could still feel even the slightest touch even though the gemstones were completely solid. She also noticed that even her fingernails seemed to be harder and a little longer, and the edges, where they met her flesh, were encrusted with tiny jewels.

Ariana was not sure what to make of such things, and though she knew the changes in her should be strange and disconcerting, she felt as though they were perfectly natural. Either way, there was nothing she could do about any of it and she knew she had to keep going. She continued on and came to another lava flow that was like a wide river and, without even slowing her step, she dove into it and swam toward the rock bank on the other side.

As she was nearly all the way across, Ariana felt a strange presence approaching her and she heard echoes in her thoughts, harsh, violent and intense emotions that reminded her of when she first received the gift from King Eric. There was no mistaking the nature of such thoughts and she swam harder, reaching the bank just as a large, dark shadow appeared over her. The dragon let out a shrieking roar, flaring its wings and settled on a high ridge ahead of her, overlooking the bank of smooth, black rock as Ariana pulled herself out, dripping lava and continuing to walk forward in the direction she knew she had to go, walking toward a wide gap between the rocks. Strangely, she felt no fear of the creature, though she understood its rageful challenge. It bellowed at her again as she walked toward its perch and she stopped.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice echoing with strange and powerful sounds, akin to those of the dragon.

"What are you?" The dragon rumbled, its voice echoing in her mind as much as it reverberated in the air around her.

"What am I?" Ariana found the question strange and the answer that came into her thought also seemed strange, even as she uttered the words. "I am."

"Who are you?" the dragon asked.

"Who am I?" For a moment, she was not entirely sure. In her thoughts, she knew her name, but for a moment, she was not sure how to speak it. One thought came to her, as clear as the crystals that now adorned her body, a better answer to the first question the dragon had asked. "I am a queen."

The dragon shuffled its clawed feet and Ariana caught the faint impression that the creature was somehow uncomfortable with her presence.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Storm."

Ariana suddenly got the impression that he was male, and somewhat young, in dragon terms, though she was not sure exactly what that might mean.

"Storm," Ariana said his name.

"Have you come seeking vassals?" he asked.

"No," she told him. "I seek a friend."

"You seek Akandar."

"Yes," Ariana said, her heart beating more quickly at the mention of the name. "Do you know where he might be?"

"I do."

"I must find him."

"You are his queen."

Ariana was not sure exactly how to answer the question except in the terms of the dragon thoughts that echoed in her mind.

"I am," she said.

"You must go to Akandar," he told her.

"Yes," Ariana said. "I must find him."

"You must go to Akandar now."

"Yes, I am trying to go to him." Ariana began to feel a little impatient.

"You will not get there unless you fly." The dragon shifted on his feet again. "Akandar will die."

"Please," Ariana said. "Can you take me to him?"

"You cannot fly," Storm said, cocking his head to the side and Ariana began to hear more of his thoughts. "You are a queen but you cannot fly. You are strange to me."

"It does not matter," Ariana said. "I must get to him. Will you take me?"

"If you wish to make me your vassal, you must defeat me in battle."

"I do not want to fight you," Ariana said, her anger flaring in frustration. "I must get to Borrican. Please take me to him or show me the way."

"You will fight me," he said. "I accept your challenge."

The dragon spread his wings and roared, with smoke and wisps of fire coming from between the rows of pointed teeth and fangs.

"No," Ariana said. "I do not wish fight you."

"You must," he said and he leapt from his perch and dropped to the ground in front of her, blocking her way. "If you want to fly, you must defeat me. I accept your challenge."

Ariana felt powerful emotions welling up inside of her, molten fire and raw energy far greater than she had ever experienced flooded to her fingertips and, almost without thinking, her entire body burst into flames. The dragon roared and leapt toward her and, instinctively, she threw a ball of fire at him. The flames hit him square in the chest and he stopped, surprised at first, but then he burst into what Ariana knew was laughter and then he continued forward, swiping his claws at her.

She ducked beneath his powerful reach and the force of the wind from it alone nearly knocked her over. Ariana focused her power on becoming fast like the woman, Dala, and stronger as well as heavier upon the ground, hoping she could still move quickly, and trying to alternate between them. Storm swung his arm back, scraping it across the ground this time and Ariana disappeared, reappearing a moment later, beside him. She reached down and scooped a large chunk of rock from the ground, as big as she was, and threw it at his head. Caught by surprise, the dragon stumbled to the side when the rock hit him. He turned and roared at her but she disappeared again, reappearing this time underneath him and slashing at his belly with her dagger.

Storm bellowed in pain as the blade cut gashes in his leathery hide, and he leapt away, scrabbling to the side and away from the razor sharp dagger. He landed heavily on his feet then swung a powerful arm at her, but Ariana moved again, dodging. She dashed toward the wide opening in the ridge of rock, but he swung his tail around and it caught her square in the midsection, throwing her backwards. Ariana landed on the stone, skidding across its surface, the gemstone scales on her elbows and running over her shoulders and down her back taking the brunt of the impact. She rolled and leapt to her feet, her bare back and legs raw and scratched from the stone, and choking to catch her breath after being hit by the dragon's thick, armored tail. She was surprised that it had not harmed her more, and realized that her skin had become stronger, somehow infused with the metal from the lava flows.

The dragon leapt toward her, gathering its breath and Ariana suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of danger. She focused her power and moved out of the way just as Storm unleashed a blast of acid fire. It burned bright orange and red, then turned white hot for a moment at the last of it. Ariana instinctively knew that the white fire was different, hotter than the lava and she remembered the warning from King Eric, that the gift he had given her would not protect her from truefire, and though she had never seen it, she worried that this dragon might have such a power.

Ariana also knew that if she did not prevail against the creature, she would never make it to Borrican, especially since she had heard the truth in Storm's words, that he would soon be dead. She reached for her power and then she noticed, underneath the raging fire that burned in her belly, she felt her other powers. Overwhelmed by the fire, and the strange sensations from the dragon's gift, she had not noticed the other energies flowing within her, calm and subtle beneath the surface, like the colors in the lava. She could tell that nothing grew in this place but she could feel the ground under her feet, not the earthy loam in which the roots of trees could grow, but hardened rock, heavy and dense. Ariana reached out with her power and felt the texture of the rock, the subtly porous surface, riddled with imperfections that were invisible to the naked eye. Beneath it, she felt the lava shifting and moving like an underground river, and she reached out to it with her magic, bidding it to move, to bend to her will as she had once asked the trees.

Storm spun around and dashed toward her, his jaws open, sharp teeth dripping with acid fire as he leapt into the air. The ground cracked and rumbled and large slabs of rock slammed into him from either side. Lava coursed up from underneath the rock and wrapped around his thick, scaled arms and his powerfully muscled legs, solidifying as it cooled in the air. The dragon roared, cracking the stone and breaking free of its grip but Ariana pushed more lava up from the broken ground, encircling his limbs once again and holding him in place with her power this time. It was much harder for her to manipulate the stone and the lava, and Ariana felt herself quickly beginning to tire but she kept the pressure on him as Storm raged and struggled to break free. She heard his howls in her mind and she felt the shift in his thoughts as he slowly began to calm. Finally he stopped and stared down at her, his reptilian eyes no less fierce, but no longer with a combative and predatory look.

"You are more powerful than you appear," he rumbled.

"I am a queen," she repeated, not sure exactly why, but it was the meaning of the thought that came into her mind in the powerful, emotional speech of a dragon.

"What is your command?" Storm asked, and Ariana thought she heard what sounded like a laugh echoing in his thoughts as he snorted and bowed his head.

"Take me to him," she said.

"Yes, my queen," Storm replied. "If you will release me, we can leave at once."

"Can I trust you?" Ariana asked, though she already knew that she could.

"You are a strange queen, but you have bested me," he said. "I am your vassal and will carry out your commands whether I wish it or not."

Ariana released most her power, then she used a small amount of it, sending it into the tiny flaws in the stone that was already becoming solid around the dragon. The stone cracked, then it shattered and fell to the ground. Storm shook off the remaining rocks and bits of cooling lava then he stepped toward Ariana, lowering his enormous, horned head until they were face to face. Ariana felt the heat of his breath, blowing from his nostrils as he sniffed her.

"If you intend to see Akandar, we must fly," Storm said and he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

"I cannot fly, I do not have wings," Ariana said.

"Your thoughts were clear," he said. "You may ride upon my back."

"I did not suggest such a thing."

"Yes, you did," he told her. "Not since Talon Akandar has such a thing been done, but you are a queen and I am at your command."

"Talon Akandar? I have heard that name," Ariana said, and she remembered an old Kandaran story about a warrior and a dragon, who fought one another and became friends. "It is the legend of the Kandaran royal house."

"I do not know what story you have heard, but Talon Akandar is no legend," Storm said, opening his eyes for a moment. "Come. We must hurry."

Ariana felt the same urgency that she heard in the dragon's voice and his thoughts, and she climbed up over his shoulder and straddled the crook of his neck in a divot between the mounds of muscle and sinew that attached to his dark, leathery wings. It was almost like being atop a horse without a saddle, except the size and power of the dragon was far beyond anything Ariana had ever known. The moment she had settled in place, he raised his head and leapt into the air, and Ariana barely managed to grab hold of the thick scales on his neck as he beat his wings and began to climb into the sky.

"You dishonor me," Storm rumbled. "I am no beast of burden."

"I did not say you were," Ariana told him.

"Your thoughts are difficult to hear, for you guard them in a strange manner, but you did compare me to one of those four legged creatures."

"I meant no offense," Ariana said.

"That is true, you did not," he said as they rose above the smoke and ash and then banked, soaring off over the seemingly endless flows and jagged peaks.

Now that they were away from the intense heat of the lava, Ariana's thoughts began to clear and she realized how much she had been acting on instinct and emotion. She was not sure if it was the effect of the heat or something to do with the gift of fire she had received from the old king, but she had barely been able to remember her name.

"I am Ariana," she told the dragon, sending her name to him with her thoughts as well as her voice.

"That is not a common name among dragonkind," Storm rumbled. "The sound of it is like the wind of fire, but it also means silver queen."

"It means blessed one in the language of the elves," she told him.

"The elders of the forest, the people of the trees," Storm said and she felt a slight feeling of disdain in his voice.

"You know of them," she said.

"Yes, they are known to dragonkind," he replied.

"You do not like them?" she asked.

"I do not know them," he said. "The elder dragons have the wisdom of such things. I do not yet have that knowledge."

"You are a younger dragon, aren't you?" Ariana asked, not sure if she what she had learned from his thoughts was correct.

"Yes," Storm said. "This day I am a dragon, though I am still a drake in the eyes of many."

"What is the difference?" Ariana asked.

"A drake is young and free," he said. "A dragon becomes wise."

"And you have become wise?"

"No," Storm said, with rumbling laughter. "I am only a vassal. Once I am bonded, then I will become wise."

"Bonded?"

"Yes," he said. "You are now my queen, and you may bond me and grant me the wisdom of your line."

"I have no such wisdom," Ariana said. "I don't even know what bonding is."

"No wisdom?" Storm seemed irritated by this and Ariana felt his anger flare for a moment, then it subsided. "That cannot be true. The wisdom is the knowledge of dragons past. It is granted by a queen to a vassal during the bonding. It is the gift of the memories of dragonkind. It bestows purpose. Drakes are taught this from the moment we hatch, and we hunger for it, yet we fight to remain free until we are bested by a queen, worthy of our power. It is an honor to be bested, to become a vassal, and it is a great honor to be bonded."

"And how does a queen bond a vassal?" Ariana asked, and she heard thoughts from the dragon that made it more than obvious.

"It is the bonding," Storm said, sensing that she understood.

"Must a queen bond her vassal?" Ariana said with an uncomfortable cough.

"I do not know," he said. "Queens bond vassals."

"Vassals?" Ariana squeaked. "You mean more than one?"

"Queens have many vassals," he said. "You know very little of dragonkind, and yet you are a queen."

"I do not even know how I am a queen," Ariana said. "I mean, I am a queen, but not of dragons, but I am. This is very confusing for me as well."

"You are queen of the Akandra," Storm said. "I have heard that Akandra are different."

"Queen of the Akandra?" Ariana shook her head. "No, that's not right. I am Queen of Maramyr, and a Princess of the House of Solari."

"You are queen of the Akandra," Storm said. "I did not know it before, for you are different, but your scent is Akandra."

Ariana was now a little concerned and she remembered what Laurana had told her about accepting a gift from a dragon. It seemed old king Eric had given her more than simply the gift of fire, as he called it, but some kind of dragon power that was affecting her and, it also seemed, the dragon she had fought and whose back upon which she now rode. Ariana hoped she could give the gift back to Borrican, for the idea of having dragon vassals, while intriguing, was not why she had come all this way, and bonding with a dragon was almost beyond thought itself.

"You are a strange queen," Storm said. "I would like to know the wisdom of Akandra. It is in you, though you guard it well."

"I don't know if you are ready for such wisdom," Ariana said, not wanting to admit that she was only starting to make sense of such things, and a little disturbed as the meanings of the words and thoughts speaking to her at the same time, were still not entirely clear in her mind. "Let's not talk of such things just yet. You are my vassal, and you are taking me to Borrican. That will be good enough for now."

"As you command," Storm said.

They flew through a thick cloud of smoke and ash that rose high into the sky, then up over a range of jagged, barren mountains that stretched as far as Ariana could see. She realized that there would have been no way she could have walked such a distance on her own, with no food or clothes and only the dagger in her hand. Even on horseback, it would take many days, or even longer to make such a journey. Ariana sensed something and caught sight of movement in the sky ahead. Four dragons sped toward them then circled around and took up positions on either side of Storm.

"What is this?" one of them asked.

"This is the queen of Akandra," Storm said.

"A queen?" One of the other dragons laughed. "How can such a creature be a queen?"

"They mock you," Storm said, glancing back at Ariana.

"And who are these dragons?" Ariana asked, feeling her ire begin to rise.

"They are drakes called Crag, Kiva, Raz and Kaz," he said, his thoughts identifying each of them. "They are friends."

"You speak to it as though it can understand you," the one named Crag said.

"She can understand you," Storm told him. "You would be wise to choose your thoughts carefully."

Crag flew in close and took a look at Ariana, sniffing the air, and then he angled away, letting out a loud roar.

"Akandra!" he bellowed, then he looked over at Ariana. "Why do you take this weak form?"

"This is my form," Ariana told him, her temper flaring at his jeering insult. "And I am far from weak. Ask my vassal if you doubt it."

"Your vassal?" another dragon, the one called Raz, cackled, tucking his wings and rolling over in the air as he laughed and then his wings snapped open again and he rose up again and stared at Ariana. "The mighty Storm is vassal to such a creature?"

"It is true," Storm said, and Ariana could tell that he was almost ashamed, but then his thoughts shifted, became firm and projecting power. "She is a queen."

"The Akandra are strange," the dragon named Kiva said. "Many troubles the Akandra wildling has caused. The elders have decided that he should be killed but the Aledra queens threaten to fight."

"That is disturbing news," Storm growled.

"What does that mean?" Ariana asked.

"It is trouble," Crag told her. "The queens must not fight."

"Why not?" Ariana asked.

"We do not have many queens," Storm said. "And they are the strongest among us. To truly battle a queen is very dangerous."

"You fought me," Ariana said.

"Yes," Storm said. "And look at me now. Next you will have me eating grass from the field."

The other dragons laughed, but they stopped when Storm growled at them.

"It is like the stories of Talon," Kaz said.

"It is," Storm said as they passed over a high peak and began their descent into a rocky valley among the peaks, where lava flowed in some places, rivers in others and grass grew in between.

Circling below were more dragons than Ariana had imagined, dozens upon dozens of them flying in circles, their calls rageful challenges, screaming toward a group of dragons on the ground, at the mouth of a cave. Storm looked at the dragons, flying on either side of him.

"Will you accompany us or will you flee like cowards?" he asked.

"You would call us cowards?" Crag responded with a growl.

"Only if you fly away," Storm replied with a toothy grin.

"Later I will fight you," Crag said.

"I no longer fight with drakes," Storm said.

"When did you decide this?"

"When I became vassal to a queen."

Crag flew close and sniffed at Ariana again, then he flew even closer and looked her in the eye.

"I will fight you next," he said, growling a challenge.

Ariana was distracted by another challenge, a far more powerful one, and it was a raging bellow she recognized. Echoing from the mouth of the cave, Borrican's voice roared in a visceral call to which the circling dragons responded with challenges of their own. Ariana felt the heat within her rise at the sound of the intense and violent dragon emotions and she felt the fire within her flare to life as they flew toward the swirling sea of dragons below. The heat increased further at the intense and powerful roars that followed from the two dragons that stood guard outside the cave and Ariana felt herself spinning into a competitive rage that confused her so much that he did not even notice the flames that began to emanate and swirl around her.

Several of the dragons split off from the rest when they saw Storm and the four drakes approaching, sensing Ariana's presence. They were agitated by the distinctive power of a queen as much as curious at the flames burning from the tiny creature atop the young dragon's back.

"It is good that your fire does not burn me," Storm rumbled.

Ariana snapped out of the powerful emotions that had taken over her thoughts. She struggled to bring the flame under control, shifting them away from where she touched the dragon. It was the best she could do, for every challenging roar from every dragon in the sky and on the ground fed the fire, making her want to fight them all. The part of her thoughts that retained some sense of her self was shocked by the madness of it. The idea that she could even consider fighting so many dragons was sheer insanity, and she knew why dragons were so dangerous. If they were so compelled to fight, so attuned to violence, it was no wonder that they were feared by so many in the world, even though it had been many generations since anyone had even seen a dragon.

"Hold on," Storm said, and Ariana felt him send his thoughts to the four drakes, who suddenly veered away, heading for the approaching dragons.

Storm beat his wings hard, climbing higher and higher, then he tucked back his wings and went into a steep dive, heading straight for the swirling mass of dragons. They passed the four drakes, who were holding up several of the dragons and continued gathering speed. Ariana felt the subtle adjustments in the tightening and movements of Storm's muscles as he extended his wings only enough to alter their course as they sped toward the circling dragons. They shot through, narrowly missing several of the creatures and Ariana noticed how much larger and more powerful they were than Storm or the other drakes. As much as the fire within her wanted to answer their challenges, she did not want to fight them. Storm extended his wings as they rushed toward the ground and Ariana felt as though she was being crushed against his neck by the sudden deceleration, then it eased up as he swooped over the rocky ground, almost touching it as he angled toward the mouth of the cave and the two dragons in front of it. A moment later, Ariana was pressed against his neck once more as he flared his wings and came to a landing, and she felt the vibration from his neck as he let out a fearsome roar.

The two dragons bellowed back and Ariana understood only the feelings of their response, to keep away and that coming any closer would mean death. She knew the threats were not idle, and she felt Storm's aggressive confidence lessen a little. Instinctively she sent him a reassuring thought, confident and aggressive herself, which seemed to reinforce his stance, then he bowed his head toward the two dragons and Ariana climbed down from his neck.

The moment her feet touched the ground, Ariana felt the power in the land, both the rock beneath her feet and the tiny bits of moss and grass. There was life here, and she could tell that not much further beyond this place, the land was green with grass, trees and all sorts of flora. The added sense of her other powers helped, for though the fire within her had become a relentless inferno, the sight of the two queens in front of her was no less intimidating. They were both of a greenish color, their scales and horns glittering with gemstones of myriad colors. The larger dragon was a lighter yet richer color, and the smaller of the two was noticeably darker and somehow seemed familiar. Both dragons gave off an energy of intense calm, with an unmistakable and powerful underlying threat.

"What are you doing, Storm?" Vale asked. "Are you a compete fool? It is too dangerous here for you, and far too dangerous for any but dragonkind."

"Vale," Storm said with a slight nod of his head. "Vana."

"I do not know what kind of trick you are playing at, Storm," Vale said. "This is not the time for such games."

"I play no games, Vale," Storm said.

Ariana heard faint echoes of what sounded like an argument between Storm and the two dragons and she wondered why she could not hear what they were saying. She realized that Storm was letting her listen in on what the other dragons intended to be a private conversation, and from the sound of things, they were in no mood for any kind of intrusion, but the larger of the two dragons stared at her, with a penetrating look that was almost completely unnerving.

"What have you brought to this place?" Vana asked, eyeing the human and sniffing the air, catching her peculiar scent.

"I have brought the Queen of Akandra," Storm replied.

"The Akandra queen died. She is no more," Vale said. "I can sense power from this one, but she is no dragon."

"The Queens of Kandara are not typically dragons," Vana reminded her daughter as she took a slow step forward toward Ariana, looking at her more closely, curious at the flames that swirled around her and catching the scent of the distinctive power, one that she recognized. She stepped closer and looked directly at Ariana and opened up her thoughts to her.

"Name yourself," she said.

Ariana almost stumbled backward when the thoughts of the enormous dragon entered her mind. It was like being pushed by a powerful gust of wind, her thoughts had such depth and intensity. Ariana stood, stunned for a moment and the flames burning around her guttered, then she stepped forward, toward the dragon, driven and fearless at the knowledge that Borrican was so close.

"I am Ariana," she said, both with her thoughts and her voice, which echoed with power. "I am the rightful Queen of Maramyr, a Princess of Solari, and I bear the power of Akandra. And who are you that stands in my way?"

Ariana was surprised at the bold challenge in her own voice, and she felt like her heart might stop when the two dragons both roared at her in response, but she continued walking, putting one foot in front of the other, showing no fear.

"Interesting," said the larger dragon, then she nodded. "I am Vana, queen of the Aledra, and this is my daughter, Vale."

Ariana stopped and looked up at both of them. They were both careful with their thoughts, but Ariana could tell that even though their dragon nature was to respond to her challenge, neither of them intended any harm. She got the sense that it was a matter of respect between them, not of battle.

"You seek Borrican," Vale said, her voice noticeably younger than that of her mother. "He is here."

"I will see him," Ariana said.

"We do not stand in your way," Vana told her. "We stand guard."

"I have heard that the dragon elders have decided he is to be killed," Ariana said. "Is this true?"

"It is," Vana replied.

"And you defy their decision?"

"We do," Vale said.

"And those dragons there," Ariana said, pointing up at the many creatures circling the sky. "You would fight that many?"

"If we must," Vana said. "Time is short for the young Akandar, but he has not yet succumbed to the madness. We will honor our vow and give him time."

"I would see him now," Ariana said.

"Of course," Vana replied and she turned to her daughter. "Vale, please show the young queen of the Akandra. I will remain and keep the others at bay."

"Yes, mother," Vale said and she turned and entered the cave, disappearing into the shadows.

Vana stepped aside and Ariana followed Vale inside. The fire that burned in the air around Ariana died down as she entered the dark cavern but a little further in the way was lit by the glow of red heat from a crack in the ground where lava flowed. Ariana could no longer see the dark green dragon and it was as though she had disappeared, but she saw someone walking ahead of her and was surprised to see a young woman who looked to be around her age. Ariana walked a little faster and caught up to her, wondering at first who she might be, but the fire within her quickly told her who she was.

"How did you become human?" Ariana asked.

Vale turned her head, glancing over her shoulder as she continued further into the cave.

"It is a trick," she said. "It is a form we dragons can take if we choose."

"Did you show this to Borrican?" Ariana asked. "He was trapped in his dragon form. That was why he went away."

Vale stopped and turned, looking at Ariana with a frown.

"He cannot change while the madness is upon him," she said. "He is a wildling, and wildlings only rage and feed."

"A wildling?" Ariana understood what Vale had said from her thoughts, which echoed in her mind along with her words, but she was not sure what it meant.

"Wildlings are dragons that become beasts. When the madness destroys their wisdom completely, they become wildlings," Vale told her, and Ariana knew there something she was not saying.

"And then what becomes of them?" she asked.

Vale stared at the ground and it was obvious that she did not like the answer, though she could tell that Ariana already knew the truth of it.

"They are killed," she said.

"Killed," Ariana said the word, feeling the strange lack of emotion in how Vale had said it, as though it was shameful. "Why kill them?"

"Wildlings are beasts," Vale said, and she let her thoughts convey what she meant, sharing a little of the wisdom she had inherited from her mother.

Ariana felt the powerful dragon thoughts flood into her mind, with glimpses of the terrible things that wildlings had done. She could tell that many of the thoughts and memories were from times long past, during the lives of other dragons who had preceded Vale, and she began to understand the wisdom of the dragons and how they passed knowledge to one another. Ariana also sensed that it was not often that a dragon would share wisdom in such a direct way and that Vale had decided to trust her.

"Thank you, Vale," Ariana said, understanding why the young queen chose to give of her wisdom to one who was potentially a rival.

"You must save him," Vale said. "I have seen his thoughts, many of us have, and the oath of Akandra must be defended."

Ariana felt the sense of duty and honor from her, and she also felt the sense of urgency and frustration underneath the thoughts and words that Vale had spoken. It seemed the young dragon also cared for Borrican a great deal, and even the hints of emotion that slipped through were powerful enough to bring tears to her eyes. Ariana smiled at her. As much as the fire inside her, the gift that Borrican's father had given her, drove her to save him, she had cared about the Kandaran, despite the annoying and aggravating fool that he often was. Overcome by her own powerful emotions and glad the dragon shared her feelings about Borrican, Ariana stepped toward Vale and embraced her.

Vale was completely overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions and thoughts that flowed into her, and it was almost too much even for her keen dragon mind. Two wisdoms lived within her, one of them ancient with the thoughts and forms of a dragon mind, and the other one a tangle of seemingly infinite detail, every moment of her life interwoven with her essence. Vale felt her entire being shudder as the dragon wisdom entered her, like a flickering and smoldering coal, giving off intense heat but burning slowly, offering the flame of knowledge slowly, and the other wisdom, the things she saw and understood from Ariana's life were strange in her mind, for she had only known the world of dragons, and she was overwhelmed by how much the young woman had endured and learned in such a short life. Vale realized that Ariana's own wisdom was only that which she had learned for herself, for she had no memories that went beyond the span of her life, and she was surprised by her determination, the strength of her will and the depths of her emotions, which she had long kept hidden.

Though her world was very different, Vale knew that Ariana was truly an impressive queen, worthy of the power that she carried, both her own wisdom and the dragon gift of the Akandra. She also learned how little Ariana understood that power and what it meant, and knew that she had not intended to share so many things with her. Vale had never heard of a queen sharing a wisdom in such a way, and she had to struggle to keep her thoughts clear, for such intense inner emotions were almost intoxicating and she felt her own consciousness beginning to shift. She realized that Ariana was naturally guarded in her mind due to having been raised in a palace with mages who could read minds and with an uncle who coveted her power and position. She had instinctively protected her innermost thoughts upon coming to the realm of the dragons, but upon embracing Vale in such a heightened state, Ariana had unwittingly opened up almost all the details of her life and somehow Vale's own wisdom flowed into her. It was almost as though she and Ariana had bonded one another, which should not even be possible. Overwhelmed, and mindful that she should not dishonor the strange young queen, about whom she had just learned so much, Vale slowly extracted herself from her embrace, and she put her hands on Ariana's shoulders, meeting her gaze, not yet ready to give up the comfort and exhilaration of her touch.

"You have seen much trouble in the world," Vale said.

"I have," Ariana replied, feeling as though she had been spun around, and not sure what had just happened.

Vale smiled, somberly, and a row of sharp, pointed little teeth and fangs poked from behind her soft, pink lips.

"Go to him," she said, and she slid her hands from Ariana's shoulder, down the sides of her arms and then she finally let go, realizing that even without touching one another, they were now completely bonded. "I will be here if you need me."

"Thank you, Vale," Ariana said, disoriented and overwhelmed by the emotions and thoughts that tumbled around in her mind. Something had happened between her and the dragon and she felt strange though somehow reassured by it, and her determination to help Borrican was now even stronger.

Ariana left Vale to wait for her in the cavern and continued onward, walking around a bend and the cavern opened up and became much larger. The lava that flowed like a stream through a large crack in the floor on one side cast a golden orange glow around the inner surface of the cave, which was noticeably smoother and scored with recent burn marks. Ahead, in the dark shadows at the back of the stone chamber, she saw him. Borrican, in his dragon form, was slumped over with his eyes closed, his limbs held uncomfortably by thick, iron shackles and chains. She could hear his ragged breathing and, as she approached, she saw the stains of blood upon the floor of the cave where the chains and shackles had cut into him from his struggle. Borrican was a prisoner, kept captive in such a way because he had become dangerous, and Ariana felt equal measures of sorrow and anger at seeing him in such a state.

As she approached, she felt the burning intensity of his rage and hear the wild and erratic thoughts that slipped from his mind. The violent bloodlust that emanated from him shocked Ariana and she could barely believe that this creature was the same young man she knew. The dragon's breathing slowed and Ariana felt a shift in his thoughts, from anger and frustration to something truly dangerous, the urge to kill, and it was directed at her. His eyes opened a crack, two golden slits staring at her as she slowly walked a little closer.

Ariana stopped at a place in front of him that was just beyond his reach and she stared up at him, returning the challenge in his gaze with her own determination, and she noticed that he had grown noticeably larger and more powerful since she had last seen him. His dark, black skin and scales had also taken on a kind of metallic hue similar to what Ariana had noticed had happened to her after she had pulled herself out of the lava flows. He was both fearsome and majestic to behold.

"Borrican," Ariana said, her voice gentle and calm, but echoing with the full power of the dragon gift flare to life within her.

He stared at her and there was no look of recognition in his eyes, nor in his thoughts. With lightning speed, the dragon lunged forward, his mouth opening wide and screaming at her with a terrifying roar. The sound of it sent a chill up Ariana's spine. The heavy chains, anchored in the rock behind him groaned as he pulled at them, but they held firm. Arana stood still, fighting the fear inside of her as powerful waves of rage washed over her. Acid fire dripped from between his sharp, white fangs and smoke poured from his mouth as he pulled back, breathing heavily and shaking the chains that bound him.

"Borrican," Ariana said his name, her voice still calm and soothing. "Let go."

The dragon stopped and stared at her.

"Let go, Borrican," she said again.

Ariana heard his voice in her mind, like a distant echo on the wind. There was no form to it, no words, merely his thoughts, but she knew it was him, that a part of him still survived beneath the fury of the beast. Ariana took a step toward him, staring into his dark golden eyes that flickered with fire. She took another step, and he moved back. Ariana had the sense that the part that was still himself wanted her to stay away, and the part of him that had become a wild creature wanted her closer, within range of his powerful jaws. She stepped forward again and reached out to him with her hand and with her thoughts.

"Borrican."

He lunged at her again, angling his head to the side and opening his mouth, ready to sink his teeth into her. Ariana burst into flame and her eyes burned with it, matching the power of the black dragon and, just as he was nearly upon her, his eyes caught sight of her burning gaze and he slowed, hesitating for a moment and he froze when Ariana touched him.

Sitting alone, huddled in the dark, he clung to himself at the center of the madness, with wings and talons flying around him, a whirlwind of fire and smoke. Inside his thoughts, he had withdrawn almost completely as the beast had taken over, focusing on his name, the only thing that had not yet been torn from his grip. Over and over he had told himself who he was, that he was not a beast, but even such a simple thought had escaped him and he was no longer sure who he was, and all he knew was that he did not want to be a beast.

He felt something, like a familiar scent, but he did not know what it was. The dark wings and fire screamed at him, and he withdrew even further, hiding in the center, in the eye of the vortex. He heard a voice, echoing with a word he had forgotten. He cried out, desperate to hear it again, that he might remember it. The beast screamed at him, tightening its circle around him, its sharp claws and teeth flashing angrily. Again, he heard the echo and he recognized the word. It was his name. He looked up and he saw her, a face he knew, one he wanted to remember but tried to forget, hoping to spare her the flames, but now she burned in his vision, walking toward him, alight with a raging fire, but it did not consume her. She smiled and reached out to him, then she spoke his name.

Borrican felt the fire burn through his mind, cutting through the whirling thoughts that had spun beyond his reach. The flames banished the darkness and the wings and claws scattered. She bent down in front of him and touched his cheek. He flinched, but her hand was warm and soothing despite the fire that surrounded her. Borrican felt the fire spread through him, combining with the acid fire that burned deep in the pit of his stomach and was surprised to feel the flames subside, no longer a raging inferno.

"Borrican," she said. "Let go."

"I can't," he told her, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "I don't want to be a beast. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You are not a beast, Borrican," she said, repeating his name.

"Ariana?" He finally remembered her name, opening his eyes a crack to see her smiling at him, seemingly unafraid, but he knew he would hurt her. "Please, it isn't safe to be with me. The beast will return."

She leaned in close and pulled his chin up toward her.

"The beast is gone," she told him, her voice calm and reassuring. "I am here with you and only you, the prince and the dragon."

Borrican was not sure how she could know such a thing, but something in her words was sure and he somehow knew that she spoke the truth even though it seemed impossible. He heard her thoughts, telling him to rise, to stand, even though she did not say any words, and he let go of the tension he had held and slowly rose to his feet. She let her hand fall to his arm and put her other hand on his side, guiding him up and pulling him gently closer to her. Borrican felt something stir, deep inside of him, caught alight by the flames that now burned between them and though he was still afraid he might harm her, he felt himself moving toward her as her arms encircled him.

As their bodies came together, the fire within each of them ignited, the flames growing stronger and brighter with each breath they drew and every heartbeat. Ariana felt a warmth spreading through her, as powerful as the magic she commanded, but more primal and visceral. At first she worried that she might be affected by the madness she had felt in Borrican, but this was different and it was something glorious. She pulled him in tighter, feeling the tension in his flesh shift to something strong and urgent, more powerful and with purpose, and when their lips touched, the flames that flickered within them blazed even brighter.

Ariana gasped as her body responded hungrily, her mouth searching his and her fingers digging into his muscles, and she felt his powerful arms around her now, holding her to him. The pulse of his heart ran through his body, pounding out a rhythm that coursed through every part of him and a wave of heat rolled over her like a flow of warm lava, powerful and all encompassing. The moments blurred together and they knelt and lay upon the warm earth, fingers and arms intertwined, every part of them joined and pressing deeper. All thought disappeared, leaving only wave after wave of emotion, heat and passion.

Borrican could not help himself, so completely undone was he by her touch that his worries disappeared, replaced by her reassuring warmth that washed over him, her scent and power infusing through him as she took him inside her and aroused his passion while calming the madness, sending it away forevermore. And he no longer cared what happened to him, as long as he could feel the true peace of the flickering fire they shared between them, his every instinct turning from the madness to something more powerful, a driving urge to protect that warmth.

Ariana drew ever deepening breath as Borrican coursed within her, his intense power working its way through her every barrier and finding his way to her core. His energy and power coursed within her in hot waves of emotion and primal energy and the anger and frustration that had burned within her turned to ecstasy and elation as the waves rose higher, crashing into her like a sea of heat. Her own words echoed in her thoughts as she felt the pressure of his tension release inside of her and the rush of it carried her away as she let go of the worry and fear she had carried, letting the warmth of their fire flow freely between them.

At the edge of the warm glow of lava that streamed through the cavern, its heat radiating through the crack in the ground, Vale sat quietly, her eyes closed, a somber smile upon her face as tears slowly ran down her golden cheeks. She could feel the flames of emotion from deep within the cavern, reigniting in passion once again, and she found it strange that she should feel such joy and sadness at once. The form she had taken, seemingly soft and weak, an odd shape that dragons could take, was more than she had imagined, for though her dragon nature was clear and powerful, she could feel things that were confusing in their infinite and subtle depth.

Vale hugged her arms around herself and took in a deep breath, then she rose to her feet and made her way out of the cave, pushing away the tangle of thoughts and emotions that whirled deep within her. She wondered how it was that she could not have bonded with him, that the flame of her power had not driven away his madness, even though his energy had taken hold within her. And yet, when she had touched this strange queen, it had happened so easily. Vale knew it as surely as she now knew the life of this queen called Ariana, she had received the wisdom of the Akandra, and given to her the wisdom of the Aledra. As far as she knew, it was something that had never happened before. As the knowledge and memories of the lines slowly became a part of her, Vale also knew that she and Ariana were now bonded as surely as any queen had ever bonded a mate, except their bond was shared and both thoughts and emotions flowed freely between them as queens. Vale did her best to push away the emotions that came to her from Ariana, burning hot with passion in her thoughts and she took comfort in knowing that the Akandar was saved. At least he would live, for the madness was gone from him, and Vale was truly glad of it, for his sake and for the sake of the flames of his passion that burned warmly inside of her.

A dragon once more, she emerged from the mouth of the cavern to see her mother standing guard, no longer sending powerful threats to the dragons circling the sky, who had turned and left, when the madness had ceased. Vale nodded to her mother, who looked over her shoulder at her approach, and Storm, a new vassal to the strange unexpected queen bowed his head at her, in deference as though she commanded his power.

"It seems the Akandra queen has calmed the beast within young Borrican," Vana said.

"That she has," Vale told her. "A strange power is that of the Akandra."

"It is not part of our wisdom," Vana said. "The wisdom of other lines, vestiges of the ancients, claim that the Akandra are the oldest, the first of dragonkind."

"I now know the truth of it," Vale told her and then she leapt into the air, taking to her wings, putting distance between herself and the flood of emotions she cold not banish. She felt a presence following her and somehow knew who it was even though his thoughts were guarded. "Storm, why do you follow me?"

"You are my queen," he said. "I do not know how this is true, but I know this, and it is my duty to guard your honor."

"I do not need to be guarded," Vale told him, tempted to send him away, but also glad of his company.

"Perhaps you do not," Storm said. "But it is better that you are not alone, and I have yet to be bonded."

"I cannot bond with you, Storm," Vale said. "Not yet."

"Then I will wait," he said.

"As you wish," Vale told him, flying higher and heading away from the dragon valleys and out toward the distant flows, where she could be alone.

"As you command," Storm replied, keeping respectful distance, yet curious that he had become a vassal twice this day. There was much he wished to learn, but he knew that only a bonding would give him such wisdom. In the meantime, he would fulfill his duty, and ensure that his queen would find him worthy of the bond, for the madness he had felt coming from the Akandar already tugged at his mind, as it did every drake who would become a dragon.

"Come then, vassal, be my guard," Vale said, looking over her shoulder at him and then further back where four sets of wings followed them. "And tell the others not to bother me for a time."

"Of course, my queen."

****

Vana heard the call of the elders summoning her to the mountain and she was not surprised. Every dragon had felt the power of the Akandra and knew that something was different. Rarely had a bonding been attempted so late, when the madness was so close to being complete, and that alone would be of interest to the elders. The strange power of the young woman, who bore the wisdom of the Akandra line had caused an even greater stir, for though she was human in her looks and her thoughts, her elven nature became clear in the scent of her power when the bonding had occurred. It was almost unthinkable that the blood and power of such rival races would come together in such a way, and the very idea of it would be troubling to most of the dragons, if not downright scandalous. Vana could sense the depths of power of the young queen called Ariana, and the frightening strength of her Akandra mate and she was not worried for their safety, not yet anyway. The elders would have many questions, and Vana did not doubt that many of them would condemn the match, and she decided that it might be time for her to share a portion of the wisdom that had been passed down from generation to generation among the Aledra, secret knowledge that was known only the wyverns of her line.

Vana leapt into the air and beat her powerful wings, climbing into the sky and angling her flight in the direction of the great mountain where the elders awaited her. She caught a hint of her daughter, flying away in the opposite direction and disappearing from her senses and she hoped that Vale would find her balance. She was still a young wyvern, a new queen barely ready to take vassals and begin bonding, and the wisdom of her line was still emerging in her thoughts, which was difficult enough. Somehow, Vale had gained a second wisdom, and Vana wondered how it might affect her, but whatever happened, the last thing her daughter or the Akandra needed now was the elders meddling with something they would not understand, a truth that those of her line had always known.

CHAPTER SIX

"Why do you want me to change into such a thing?" Lexi asked Ashan. "I want to be like everyone else."

"What do you mean like everyone else?" the old Ansari asked her.

"Like you and Aaron and Tash and Kasha," Lexi said.

"What about me?" Stavros asked.

"I don't want to be an old man with a grey beard," Lexi said.

"Oh?" Stavros chuckled. "And what's wrong with being old and grey with a beard?"

"There's nothing wrong for you," Lexi said, scowling. "I'm not an old man."

"And what are you, Lexi?" Ashan asked.

"It doesn't matter what I am," she said. "You said I could be what I chose, that is Ansari."

"Yes," Ashan replied. "But you are not Ansari."

"Why is Tash Ansari?" Lexi asked. "Why can't I be Ansari?"

"Perhaps you may come to know Ansari," Ashan told her. "In my many years I have learned that there is little in all of existence that is truly impossible, but if you wish to learn, then you must first learn who and what you are."

"I don't want to be such a creature," Lexi said. "They are stupid, unthinking, killing beasts."

Tash skipped alongside her friend and the old Ansari as they walked down a trail through densely forested hills toward the grassy plains at the edge of the desert lands ahead, and she listened to the things Ashan was teaching Lexi. Trying to help, she leapt into the air and transformed into a flying lizard with little feathered wings that were far too small to keep her aloft, despite flapping them as quickly as she could.

"I can still think even when I'm a dragon," she said.

A moment later, Tash landed on the ground with a thud, then she scrambled to her feet and began to stalk along beside them, her growls sounding a lot like the mewlings of a cat despite her being the shape of a fat lizard with wings.

"See I'm a dragon. I am fierce."

"That is not a dragon, Tash," Lexi said.

"Why isn't it a dragon?" Tash asked. "Is my tail too short? Maybe my wings aren't big enough. Dragons can fly. I need better wings."

Tash looked over her shoulder at the little wings that stuck out of her back, then she was suddenly distracted by her tail twitching behind her. Her eyes narrowed and she began to chase it, spinning around in circles until she fell over on the ground.

"How do you know what a dragon is, Lexi?" Ashan asked. "Have you ever seen one?"

"No," she said, sullenly looking away from him.

"And yet you know that this form that young Tash has taken is not that of a dragon. I can tell that you know this, but how do you know?"

"I don't know," Lexi said. "Maybe I don't."

"Or maybe you do," Ashan countered. " I know that you do. It is a form that is part of you. If you are to know Ansari, you must learn the truth of yourself."

"My mother is like the others, mostly."

"And are you your mother?" Ashan asked.

"No," Lexi said, baring her pointed teeth with a hint of anger. "I am not like her."

"But you want to be like her?"

"I don't," Lexi insisted and she frowned. "I just want to look like her. I hate her, but she is beautiful."

"Why do you say that?" Ashan asked.

"Everyone says it, and even when they don't say it, they think it," Lexi told him. "I know it is true. She is terrible and cruel, but she is beautiful. I could smell the desire on every man who ever was in her presence." She frowned. "No, that is not true. There was one who did not want her, only one who did not want to mate with her."

"And who was he?" Stavros asked.

"One of the mages in black robes," Lexi said. "He was not important, but he was nice to me and taught me things about the world."

"And you learned much from this mage," Ashan continued.

"I learned many things, yes," Lexi said. "I learned other things by myself too."

"And is it good to learn things?"

"Sometimes it is," Lexi said. "Not always."

"Did I get it right?" Tash asked as she flapped along on large, colorful wings that made her look like an overgrown butterfly, but with the body of a lizard and a much longer tail this time.

"No," Lexi said.

"What's a dragon, then?" Tash asked as she flitted along. "I'm going to ask Aaron and Kasha. They will tell me."

Tash flapped her colored wings and flew up ahead, leaving Ashan and Lexi together, with Stavros following along behind them. With her big butterfly wings, she flew up behind Aaron and Kasha as quietly as she could and then she let out her best roar, which sounded more like the squeak of a kitten. They both turned their heads and stared at her over their shoulders, but Tash wondered that neither of them seemed particularly scared, and then they started to laugh.

"Why aren't you scared?" she asked.

"We were a little scared," Kasha said, biting her lip. "You surprised us."

"Only a little scared?" Tash was really disappointed. "I am a dragon. You should be a lot scared. Dragons are fierce."

"You're not a dragon, Tash," Kasha said.

"That's not true," Tash said. "I am a dragon. Dragons are fierce."

She let out the loudest roar she could, but it still sounded like a cat and barely more than a kitten.

"Fierce," she said again.

Kasha could not help but laugh and Tash started to get angry.

"Tell her, Aaron," she said. "I'm a dragon."

"Tash," Aaron said, pausing for a moment as he thought of the best way to word the truth. "Is this the first time you have tried to be a dragon?"

"It is," Tash said.

"Then it is very good," Aaron said, taking a breath before continuing. "But, dragons are a little bit different."

"Different? How?"

"Well, I think dragons are bigger."

"I can't be bigger yet," Tash said. "I can only be little things until I get stronger. That's what Ashan says, so I am a little dragon."

Aaron nodded.

"Dragons also have horns," Aaron told her.

"Really?" Tash flitted ahead of him and Kasha on her butterfly wings.

"I think so," Aaron said. "And they have claws and long, sharp teeth, and their wings are leathery like those of a bat."

"Ew," Tash said. "They sound scary."

"They do," Aaron said. "Dragons are legendary for being fearsome."

"Yes, they are fierce," Tash said, and she landed on the ground. "How do you know what dragons look like?"

"I'm not sure," Aaron said, trying to remember where he would learned about them. "I think I have seen pictures of them in books." He also remembered there was a dragon in the Kandaran coat of arms. "A friend of mine has a dragon in his family crest."

"What else did I get wrong, besides the horns and claws and teeth and wings of a bat?" Tash asked.

"Try making your roar lower, like a growl," Kasha suggested.

"Okay," Tash said. "Don't look. I'm going to surprise you again. See if you get scared."

"You want us to pretend that we don't know you're going to try to scare us?"

Tash squinted an eye at the, then she flapped her wings, turning around and she flew off through the trees.

"I'll be back," she said. "You better be scared."

"Tash is very determined," Aaron said, smiling at the antics of the young girl who had been adopted by the Ansari.

"She is," Kasha said. "That is why she is worthy of Ansari."

"And how will she live among your people?" Aaron asked.

"Ansari are your people now, husband," Kasha said. "Though you are not Ansari, you are proven among them."

"I don't understand what that means," Aaron said. "I don't even know what you mean by saying we are married."

"We are not married," Kasha said. "We are mated. It is different."

"I don't understand," Aaron repeated.

"Perhaps it is best that you don't," Kasha said with a smile.

"What about Tash?" Aaron asked. "How will she live?"

"As Ansari," Kasha replied, giving him another answer that explained nothing, as though the truth of things was somehow obvious.

"Tell me, Kasha, why do Ansari answer questions about Ansari by saying Ansari?" Aaron asked.

"It is our way," she said.

"Yes, I know that," Aaron replied, even more frustrated. "I would like to understand."

"One does not understand Ansari," Kasha told him. "To know Ansari is to be Ansari and you know our ways, perhaps more than you think you do."

"That's what Ashan says," Aaron replied.

"Ashan is very wise," she said. "He sees many things."

"And yet he also says there are things that he might not see and things he might never know."

"Perhaps that is what makes him wise."

Aaron pondered what she had said as they continued along the trail, wondering if there were things he could not see, or if it was possible to learn anything if a person put one's mind to it, with enough time and effort. Certainly, that was what mages believed, that learning was about uncovering knowledge and mysteries though instruction and experiments, but the Ansari way was less about exploring the world, and more about knowing oneself, and they seemed content with that. While they were very different in their ways, Aaron had the impression that they were no less powerful.

What confounded him most was that the mages and the Ansari agreed that he had abilities like both a mage and Ansari, yet at the same time he was different somehow, and to make things even more frustrating, there were things they knew that they would not tell him. It was irritating, for it was as though they did not trust him because he was different, but Aaron knew it mostly had to do with the shadow, that they must keep certain things from him, guarding against the possibility that the dark god might learn things from him through the shadow. Stroma had said as much, but as much as Aaron understood the importance of keeping things from Kenra, he did not like being kept in the dark, especially about things that concerned him. So lost was he in such thoughts and his conversation with Kasha, that Aaron almost completely forgot about Tash and her plan to sneak up on them as a dragon. He had intentionally tried not to think about her scheme it in the hope that she would genuinely surprise him, but after a while, Aaron began to have a nagging feeling about her, wondering where she might be and why she was taking so long to return.

Out in the forest, a short distance from the trail, Tash hid under a fallen log among some dense brush, keeping as quiet as possible. All around her were strange lizard creatures, not like the dragons she had imagined at all, but more like Lexi, though they were larger and many of them had wings. They were armed and many of them wore gleaming armor, and Tash could sense the dangerous malevolence emanating from them. As soon as she had transformed into the new form, her best idea of what a dragon might be, she had immediately sensed the predatory nature of these creatures, approaching silently through the forest. Her strange new instincts told her to challenge them to fight, but she knew she would stand little chance against them for their power far outstripped her own. She forced herself to hide and waited quietly for them to pass by so she could sneak away and warn Aaron and the rest of the group. When she finally emerged from her hiding place, she realized that the lizard men had probably almost caught up with her friends and there would be no way to reach them, even in her new dragon shape, which she was sure had better wings but had not yet tried flying with them. Tash took a deep breath and did the only thing she could think of, hoping it would be enough.

A piercing shriek, guttural, rasping and ominous echoed through the forest, alerting everyone on the trail. Aaron was surprised at the chilling sound of it but he was impressed at how much an improvement it was over the previous attempts Tash had made, but something about it bothered him. It appeared to bother Kasha as well and she stopped and turned in the direction from which the sound had come, somewhere back along the trail and off in the trees. Again the growling shriek echoed through the trees, bloodcurdling and terrible it was. Ashan, Stavros and Lexi, who had been walking a few paces behind them, turned around as well.

"What is that sound?" Stavros asked.

"That is Tash," Kasha said with a look of deep concern. "Something is wrong."

"Let's find her," Aaron said. "She might be hurt."

"No," Lexi said, tilting her head as the terrible shriek sounded again. "There are enemies coming."

"All the more reason to find Tash," Aaron said, drawing his sword.

"She is warning us," Lexi told him. "They are coming now."

Kasha drew her sword and stood ready, watching the trees for any sign of movement and Aaron felt Stavros begin to gather his power.

"There," Ashan said, pointing.

A short ways behind them, five large figures emerged from the trees, fearsome looking creatures, reptilian in their features but walking upright, and there was no question what they were.

"Darga," Aaron said.

"Yes," Lexi said. "These Darga are not the same as what I know. They are different."

"Well it looks as though they are spoiling for a fight," Stavros said as the lizard men raised their weapons and broke into a run. Stavros turned suddenly, looking into the trees close by and he thrust out his hands, creating a wall of energy as a blast of purple and black fire came from the forest. The force of magic crashed against the translucent wall that the mage had erected and the dark, swirling energy clung to it, eating it away. Stavros pulled his hands back as the dark energy began to snake its way toward him. He let the wall drop, and the enemy magic fell to the ground, eating away at the grass and dirt like burning pitch. "It seems they've brought a mage with them."

"There are more," Kasha said as she spotted at least a half dozen lizard men appearing upon the trail ahead.

Ashan walked ahead, moving toward them, unarmed, unchanged, simply a thin, old man, and Aaron was surprised but he knew that the old Ansari was more than he seemed. Hopefully, he and Kasha would be able to handle the second group of Darga. Aaron and Lexi sprang into action, meeting the steel of their attackers with steel of their own, their matching blades taking the heavy blows from the powerful lizard men.

Aaron was surprised at how much more lizard like the Darga were, having imagined them to be more like Lexi, and they were much larger and more powerful than he had imagined. He struggled against the urge to reach for his power, using the things Ashan had been teaching him instead, using only the part of him that did not touch the shadow to strengthen his arms and body. It was much more difficult to manage, but he was glad that he could at least gain some small advantage from his power, for the Darga were unbelievably strong, and despite their size, they moved very quickly, striking with quick intensity. Aaron knew he would be hard pressed to fight such creatures if he did not have any power, but his skill as a fighter was still enough to take them on one at a time. Unfortunately, they did not wait turns, instead attacking all at once.

Lexi moved quickly between the Darga, slashing with her blade and raking her claws at them, her fighting almost like a deadly dance. It was as though fighting was something she was born to, her movements fluid and her instincts sharp. She slashed at one of the Darga with her blade and caught him in the neck, then she ducked under his sword as he tried to fend her off. She grabbed the edge of his armored chest piece and swung around behind him, using her momentum to attack the Darga beside him, who was attacking Aaron.

The Darga caught sight of Lexi coming at him, but it was too late. She drove her sword into his side, then she kicked her foot at him as he fell and she yanked the blade free, moving back toward the other Darga she had cut, who was now clutching at his neck with one of his large, clawed hands. He slashed at her with the sword he held in his other hand but Lexi caught his blade with her own and drove the Darga back, pushing hard against his sword and bending his arm back. He tried to block her, but she leapt up and over him, bringing her blade around and cutting the other side of his thick, reptilian neck. Black blood gushed freely from the deep cut and the Darga fell to the ground.

Aaron fought the two remaining Darga, glad that Lexi had taken out the third one he faced, and he blocked and parried their powerful blows as they hammered away at him. He quickly realized that the scales along their arms were like iron and the armor they wore likely covered their more vulnerable places, but he saw Lexi cut at the neck of the first Darga she faced, and aimed for the same. Aaron managed to get past one of the Darga's reach and slashed at his neck with his sword, catching the tip of it on his throat. The Darga leapt back before the blade could cut deeply and both Darga changed their tactics, defending themselves more carefully while continuing to fight with relentless power and speed. Aaron was impressed that they showed such skill since the creatures had been described by Stroma as slow witted, but these Darga fought like well-trained fighters, and he wondered about how Lexi had said they were different.

Aaron managed to cut the other Darga on the inside of its sword arm and narrowly dodged a powerful swipe of the first Darga's blade when Lexi joined in, having dispatched the other Darga she had fought. It was frustrating for Aaron that he could not let go and fight as he normally would, for fear of reaching for his power, which had become almost like an instinct, and he was glad that Lexi was there, fighting with speed and finesse that matched his own, and with a killing instinct that was almost a little frightening to see.

Aaron focused his attack on the first Darga and knocked the lizard man's blade aside, then slammed the sharp edge of his blade just above the hilt into his throat, almost like a punch. It was not the most graceful of attacks but, given the lack of vulnerabilities on the creature, it turned out to be effective. The Darga staggered back, letting out a gurgling growl through the open hole in his throat and Aaron blocked the creature's blade that came back in a desperate, dying attack. The Darga fell over, landing heavily on its back on the ground and Aaron turned to see Lexi perched up on the other Darga's chest, slamming her sword straight down under the breastplate the creature wore, driving it deep into its chest. The Darga flailed its arms wide and Lexi sprung upward, yanking her blade free. The Darga fell and she landed next to the creature, her sword leveled at him until he twitched and died.

"Thank you, Lexi," Aaron said.

"Why do you fight so slowly?" Lexi asked.

"I don't want to use my power," Aaron told her as he looked over to where Kasha and Ashan were fighting four more Darga, and he started moving in their direction, breaking into a run. "It is dangerous if I do, even accidentally."

"You move stiffly as well," she said as she ran along beside him.

"I am being careful," Aaron told her. "If I let go and simply fight, I feel myself reaching for my power almost without thinking."

"Do not worry, I will help," Lexi said. "These Darga are stronger and faster than other Darga, but I am faster and stronger."

"I can see that," Aaron said as she leapt ahead of him and attacked one of the Darga that Kasha faced.

As Aaron ran toward the fight, he was amazed to see Ashan, fighting without a weapon, ducking and dodging the attacks of the three Darga that had him surrounded. The old man moved like a kind of whirlwind, spinning and ducking around swords and claws and axes that one of the Darga swung at him with unbelievable speed. Ashan dropped low and smashed his fist into the abdomen of the lizardman with the axes and Aaron saw the creature buckle with a deep cut in its stomach, almost as though a hole had been cut out of it, and he caught a glint of steel as Ashan's hand shifted back into a fist, from what had looked like a kind of thick, metal spike.

The other two Darga swung their blades at the old man and he leapt backwards, sailing between their blades, then he rolled over and landed in a crouch, leaping toward one of them, both his hands held flat and glinting with steel as they became like two, short blades. He cut and slashed the leather straps holding the plate armor that one of the Darga wore, and it fell to the ground, exposing his leathery chest and stomach, which did not have any of the armored scales that covered the rest of its body.

Aaron saw Lexi dispatch one of the Darga that Kasha was fighting and then the two of them went after the other one, so he engaged one of the two that Ashan was fighting, slashing at the creature's side, where the scales turned to leather. His sword cut flesh but hit bone and glanced away, and he dodged around behind the Darga as it bellowed in pain and swung around violently in a vicious and angry attack. Aaron had been expecting such a retaliatory strike and was ready to block, but the power of the Darga sent him flying and even though he landed on his feet, he slid along the dirt of the trail, struggling to keep his balance.

The Darga followed through, turning and leaping through the air toward Aaron, extending a pair of wings from his back and soaring toward him with his sword outstretched, pointed right at his chest. Aaron dropped and rolled to the side just as the Darga snaked his blade after him, catching him and cutting a deep gash into his upper arm. Aaron ignored the pain and sprang to his feet, then darted after the Darga as he flared his wings and landed on his feet. The creature's wings slowed down his movements and Aaron stabbed him in the side of the neck before he could turn around completely.

The creature fell and Aaron turned to see Ashan standing over the body of the other Darga, peering down at it with a curious expression on his face. He looked over to where Kasha and Lexi were sheathing their swords, the bodies of the remaining Darga strewn upon the ground, spilling dark blood onto the dirt.

"Where is Stavros?" Aaron asked.

"Here," the mage said as he emerged from the trees, dragging a black robed mage with him, holding him by the ear.

"I will find Tash," Lexi said and she took off at a run.

"Let go of me," the mage priest yelled.

"No," Stavros said. "Consider yourself lucky if I don't ensorcel you in a slow burning spell. Now get moving."

"Why do you let him live?" Ashan asked.

"I thought he might prove useful," Stavros said. "And I am a little reticent about killing one of my former students."

"You taught this mage?" Kasha asked.

"Yes," Stavros said. "Before the rise of the priesthood and this god of theirs, I taught many mages. This is one of them. Rulsten here was talented in certain magics, especially destructive magics, but none too bright in most of the rest of his life. It seems not much has changed, though I suppose I can't fault him for falling under the influence of the book."

"How might this corrupted mage be useful?" Ashan asked.

"I thought we might have a word with Cerric, or this Kenra," Stavros said. "I have put a protective spell on young Rulsten here, so he cannot see any of you right now, though it may be that he has already have seen all of us. Whatever the case, I thought it might be time we asked some questions and Rully's going to help us with that."

"How can we speak to this god-king?" Ashan asked.

"There is a way," Stavros said. "I will explain later."

"Let me go, Stavros," the mage said. "I can hear the voice of who you're talking to."

"So that means you don't know who it is," Stavros said. "Like I said, he was never that bright. Now, since young Rully here has already seen me, let's not give away more than we have to." He held up his fingers to his lips and winked at them, then he shoved the mage to the ground. "Rully, tell your master I want to speak with him."

"No one calls me Rully anymore, Stavros, and I'm not that young either," he said as he got back up. "I'm more powerful now too, and I won't be trifled with."

"Really, Rully," Stavros said. "You've already been trifled with, and you lost. Now be a good lad and do what I tell you."

Aaron thought that Rulsten looked as though he was trying to reach for his power but even without touching his own magic, the power that flowed through him and heightened his senses, told him that Stavros had blocked the mage's power. Rulsten choked and spluttered in frustration, then he threw a hateful look at Stavros, who simply shrugged.

"What did you do?" Rulsten demanded.

"Come now," Stavros said. "You don't think I would let you touch your magic, do you? There is only one thing you can do, and that is to talk to your master, the regent, Cerric, who thinks he has become some sort of god."

Rulsten's eyes took on a strange, distant look and a magical glow appeared in them, making him look almost as though he was blind.

"Stavros," a voice said, that was noticeably different.

"Cerric," Stavros replied and then he smiled. "How are things at Maramyr?"

Rulsten's face contorted slightly in a strange look of revulsion mixed with a smirk, a combination of the mage's confusion at Stavros' casual question and Cerric's response to the same.

"Your flippant sarcasm was never welcome here," Cerric replied through the mage. "And how drab things are in the forest to the northwest of Forsina? Not the most comfortable setting, I would imagine."

"Well, it was quite lovely until your lizard men showed up," Stavros replied. "Interesting creatures these Darga. Quite the nuisance they are."

"They have their uses," Cerric said. "Now what do you want?"

"I should ask you the same thing," Stavros said. "You sent your creatures and this mage, and they attacked me without any warning, which was rather rude. What do you want?"

"You think I don't know who you travel with?" Cerric said. "I am not foolish like this mage and I have many eyes."

"Yes, yes," Stavros said. "I am not so foolish as to travel without an armed escort, Cerric. Dangerous times for us independent mages with these lizardmen and your mindless mage priests lurking about."

"You travel with more than a mere escort, mage," Cerric spat, then Rulsten's head turned and he stared in Aaron's direction, as though he could sense his presence. "I can feel the shadows of my power, even with your magic hiding him. I know he is with you."

"Zachary was here, but he left. I think he went to see you."

"Zachary is dead," Cerric said. "He was destroyed by his own fire, burned from existence. A true shame it was, for he would have made a powerful addition to my priesthood."

"The true shame is yours, Cerric, that you allow yourself to be manipulated by this power you have claimed," Stavros told him. "Really, you appear to be no better than one of these mages that have become enthralled to that blasted book, and I wonder if your mind is really your own. Are you a slave to it as well? Don't forget, Cerric, I know about you. I know about your powers. Feeble though you are, there is enough magic in you that you could have fallen prey to the book. You might ask yourself if you are truly in control of yourself."

"Nonsense," Cerric said, his voice growing sharp with irritation. "You always spoke a lot of nonsense, Stavros. You are clever, mage, but you cannot hide from me forever, and the one I seek will reveal himself. Of that, I am certain."

"Until then, I suggest you quit wasting my time with these pathetic attacks," Stavros told him. "If you're too cowardly to come out here yourself, then at least send something of a challenge."

"You overestimate your power, mage," Cerric responded, his voice growing angry and the eyes of the mage glared at Stavros, who shrugged and looked unimpressed.

"Perhaps you overestimate your power," he said. "You might want to think about that. Until we meet again, Cerric." Stavros smiled and held up his hand.

"Do not presume to tell me what to think," Cerric growled, but then the eyes of the mage ceased to glow and his body stiffened, stuck perfectly in place, completely unmoving.

"What did you do to him?" Aaron asked, for it looked very odd to see someone completely frozen, but when he took a closer look, he could see that the mage was still moving and breathing, only imperceptibly slow.

"Rully?" Stavros asked. "I just slowed him down a little, but the spell won't last forever so we should get moving."

"What do we do with him?" Kasha asked.

"Nothing," Stavros said. "Leave him here."

"What was the point of talking to Cerric?" Aaron asked.

"I'll tell you later," Stavros replied. He stepped around behind the frozen mage and held his fingers to his lips, signaling for Aaron and the others not to ask any more questions. "Let's find the others and continue on our way. No doubt Cerric will send more of his lizard soldiers to search for us, coward that he is."

Lexi moved quickly and silently through the trees, feeling her way forward in the direction she somehow knew that Tash would be, though she was not sure how she could know such a thing. She knew Tash was scared and upset, but she could tell that she was no longer in any danger. As she felt she was getting closer to where her friend should be, Lexi felt something change and she could no longer feel where Tash was. Worried, she broke into a run, no longer caring if she made any noise, and ready to attack anyone who might try to stop her.

She leapt over a fallen log and skidded to a halt before a scene that shocked her. Tash sat alone in the center of a small clearing of splintered and broken trees, and the ground was spattered with black blood from a half dozen dead Darga strewn around her, some of their bodies missing limbs and all of them with deep scratches and claw marks on them. Tash huddled on the ground, her knees pulled tight against her chest and her head buried upon them, crying.

"Tash," Lexi said. "Are you hurt?'

Tash looked up at her through her tear filled eyes.

"No," she said. "They tried, but I stopped them."

"You did this?" Lexi asked, surprised.

Tash nodded.

"I didn't mean it," she said. "It was the dragon."

"The dragon?"

"It made me think bad thoughts," Tash said.

"Come on, Tash," Lexi said, putting her hand gently on the girl's shoulder. "It is safe now, and the others are waiting."

Tash got up and the two of them headed back through the forest.

"I don't want to be a dragon," Tash said.

"I don't either," Lexi said, though she was curious about how Tash could have fought and killed so many Darga by herself. If dragon form were truly so powerful, then it might be truth that there could be some advantage to it, but she worried about what Tash had said about thinking bad thoughts, and she hoped Tash would be all right.

*****

Aaron was relieved when he saw Lexi and Tash emerge from the trees, seemingly unscathed, though he could tell that Tash was upset, for she was very quiet and stuck close to Lexi and Kasha as they continued along the trail. The things that Cerric had said through the mage priest echoed in his thoughts and Aaron tapped Stavros on the shoulder and gestured that he wanted to speak with him away from the others.

"What is it, my boy?" asked the old mage, his gravelly voice and the slight lilt in the way he spoke reminding Aaron so much of Tarnath.

"You said you would explain why you wanted to talk to Cerric," Aaron reminded him.

"That's right," Stavros said. "I thought it might be useful, that we might learn a few things."

"What sort of things?"

"Well, we now know that Cerric and the power of the shadow can sense where you are," he said. "It makes things difficult, but there are ways to obscure even that power, which will become easier once we reach the Ansari desert, for the sands themselves will hide you from all but the Ansari."

"How will the sands hide me?" Aaron asked.

"Like the sea, the sands are in a constant state of movement," Stavros said. "It makes it difficult to see unless one is attuned to it, and I highly doubt that Cerric or Kenra would be able to overcome it. Only the Ansari and perhaps Ehlena, with the power of the goddess can see through the sands."

"That is helpful," Aaron said. "If I stay in the desert and never touch my power, will I be safe from the shadow?"

Stavros frowned and shook his head.

"I doubt that, Aaron," he said. "You cannot avoid using your power forever. It is an energy that grows, building up over time and if you do not release it somehow, it will do so on its own. When you were under the power of the ward, your power built up so much that it manifested itself in various ways. Tarnath told me of this in the letters he left for me, of trees flowering and growing leaves in the dead of winter, of how the fire in the hearth in the cottage where you lived would blaze higher when you were awake and candles would light themselves in the middle of the night. These things concerned my brother greatly and I regret that I did not return sooner. Had I known sooner, things might have been different."

"Things are the way they are, Stavros," Aaron said. "I miss him a great deal, but there is nothing I can do about it."

"There is nothing any of us can do about it," the mage agreed. "We learned a few other things from that little chat with Cerric. We know that he is not willing to come looking for you himself, at least not yet. I am not sure what his reasons are, but from what Stroma and Calthas told us, he is preparing some kind of magic at Maramyr, most likely something that will add to his power. He also got angry when I questioned his power, so I suspect that he might not be willing to face you yet."

"You mocked him," Aaron said. "Was it wise to anger him?"

"There was a purpose to mocking him. I knew Cerric years ago. He always had a temper, though he tried to hide it, and he would say things that he shouldn't whenever he became angry. It seems that whatever power he has or whatever influence he is under, he is still prone to such things."

"You made it sound like he wasn't even Cerric," Aaron said, and Stavros smiled.

"Yes, I did," he said. "Just like Ehlena has become one with the Lady goddess, Cerric has the power of Kenra within him. Ehlena told me a little about what it was like having her own thoughts and those of another inside her mind, and how it could be confusing. For Ehlena, it was much easier since she welcomed the goddess, but consider what it would be like if the different thoughts were not so welcoming. I would not imagine one as selfish as Cerric giving up any part of himself to another so easily, so it is possible that he and the god Kenra have some differences and if I could add to the confusion and strife between them, then all the better."

"So you were baiting him." Aaron began to understand the reason Stavros had spoken so condescendingly, suggesting that Cerric was not in control of himself.

"Whether it worked or not, it made him angry and when Cerric becomes angry, he becomes arrogant," the mage said. "He let something else slip. When he mentioned Zachary, he did not say that he killed him."

"Cerric said Zachary had destroyed himself." Aaron thought about it a little more. "He said he burned himself with his own fire, completely out of existence."

"That's right," Stavros replied. "Whatever Cerric might have said, and it is very possible that he was lying, the one thing Zachary could never do is destroy himself."

"You don't think so?" Aaron was not so sure.

"No," Stavros said. "It is not in him to do such a thing. Zachary would burn a hole in existence itself before he would even consider such a thing, which is why many fear him. Regardless, it is not in his nature to give up, even at his worst, and I have seen him in the darkest depths of despair, and his fire only became stronger, so it is possible that he still lives, though what has become of him is something of a mystery."

"If Zachary did survive, then why has he not returned?" Aaron asked.

"That I do not know," Stavros said. "He has disappeared before, so it is best to assume nothing."

"Is it possible to burn oneself from existence?" Aaron asked. "Could Zachary's power have destroyed him? Could such a thing be done?"

"Of course, it is possible," Stavros said. "I don't think Zachary could do such a thing, not because he isn't powerful enough, but because of who he is, but I suppose it might be possible if he lost control of his power."

"Stavros," Aaron said, steeling his resolve about something he had given a lot of thought from the moment he had discovered the power of the shadow within him. "Is it possible to create a spell, something like the ward spell you created, that would force my power to do something on its own?"

"It is," Stavros said and his expression darkened. "What are you suggesting, Aaron?"

"I am suggesting that I am not Zachary," Aaron replied. "If the shadow were to gain control of me, then I would rather have a way to stop it if such a thing were to happen."

"But you would destroy yourself?" Stavros looked very concerned. "Have you truly thought about this?"

"I have, Stavros. If I were to become a threat, I would rather that neither you nor anyone else have to deal with it," Aaron said. "If there is a way to make it so I can stop myself, then I would like to know it."

Stavros frowned, but he nodded grudgingly.

"I understand your reasons," he said. "I do not like that this is the way of things, and if things were any different I would refuse."

"If I fall to the shadow, you would have to kill me," Aaron said. "You and the others would have to take on that task, so what difference does it make? If you help me now, then I can keep you and the others from harm. The last thing I would want to do is to hurt anyone, and if there is a way that I can destroy Cerric in the process, then so much the better."

"I see your point," Stavros said. "I don't like it, Aaron, but I will agree to this if you promise me one thing."

"What is that?" Aaron asked.

"That no matter what happens, no matter how difficult things get, that you will not give up, not until the last moment, and only if there is truly no other way."

"I will never give up, Stavros," Aaron told him. "But, if I am left with only one path, then I will take it. In that way, I am like Zachary, or perhaps more like Tarnath. Even when he knew he was dying, he never gave up the fight, and he did what needed to be done."

"Very well, Aaron, I will show you," Stavros said. "We must be careful to obscure what we are doing, so Cerric will not know of it. Also, I must warn you, if we do this, even touching your power could feed the shadow and make it grow. It might shorten the time you have."

"Time is already short," Aaron said. "Cerric is planning some kind of magic, and the shadow within me will grow anyway when my power overflows, so we might as well find a way to use it for something useful."

CHAPTER SEVEN

The tournament was becoming more challenging as they neared the final rounds, and Brian found himself facing strange fighters, many of whom were far more skilled than he was, but so far he had managed to best each and every one of them. Surprisingly, the young Xallan named Pike continued to show up on the lists and when Brian went to watch one of his fights, he quickly discovered why.

Jax went along with him, though they made sure to arrive separately and stand apart from one another, and they both were amazed at Pike's match. It was almost comedic to watch and indeed the fight drew many laughs from the crowd as the young, scruffy swordfighter stumbled around the fighting circle, seeming to trip over his own feet. But when his opponent, a strong looking warrior, who was from the southern lands, attacked with obvious skill, Pike somehow managed to dodge or block every single blow. It was like his every move was an accident, a trip here and a stumble there, but his sword was always in the right place, and when Pike attacked, it always seemed that he was opening himself up to a counterattack but he evaded every time and somehow cut his opponent in the process.

The match ended with the warrior losing his temper and raising his sword to make a powerful blow, and Pike raised his sword to block it, seemingly in fear, then he stumbled inside the arc of his opponent's sword and fell right into him, knocking him down. Pike ended up sitting on the warrior's chest, scratching his head with his one hand, and his other hand holding the edge of his sword to the man's throat. The warrior conceded, red faced and furious, swatting Pike's hand away when he offered to help him up.

"It seems the young Xallan has had some unconventional training, but that sword he fights with is worthless," Jax commented from where he stood nearby. "Perhaps someone should help him pick out a new one, and buy the lad a meal while they're at it. He looks like he's half starved."

Brian nodded his head, acknowledging that he understood Jax's suggestion, which was to meet at a weapons shop the thief had told him about, only it sounded like he wanted Pike to come along. Another spectator standing next to Jax tapped him on the shoulder and, having heard his comment, began to explain about King Cerric's generosity in providing food and drink, which the thief greeted with complete surprise. Brian left the thief to his games and made his way over to the edge of the fighting circle, wondering if Pike was doing something similar in his fights, pretending to be inept while being exceptionally skilled. He caught Pike's eye and the Xallan's eyes lit up with recognition and he ran over to greet him.

"Brian!" he said, excitedly. "Did you see my fight?"

"I did," Brian told him. "You did well. That warrior was very good with the sword."

"I guess I've a bit of luck on my side," Pike replied. "I think I'm getting better at sword fighting though."

"I would say you're a lot better than you let on," Brian said.

"What do you mean?" Pike winked at him as he feigned innocence.

"Right," Brian replied. "My next fight isn't until later so I was going to visit some of the weapons and armor smiths if you'd like to come along."

"Of course," Pike said. "I've been thinking it might be time to get a new sword." He held out the blade he had been fighting with and Brian was appalled at its condition, with deep notches all the way up and down its edge."

"You're supposed to block with the flat of the blade, you know," Brian commented.

"I try to do that but some of the fighters are really good," Pike told him and Brian was not sure if the Xallan was still pretending.

"Come on," Brian said with a sigh.

They exited the gate through the high wall that surrounded the grounds of the Academy where the matches were taking place, and made their way through the busy streets, toward the part of the city where the armorers were located. Numerous shops lined a long street, with signs hanging outside their door, indicating the kind of things that could be purchased within. Brian saw Jax appear up ahead and he entered a shop with a sign that was emblazoned with a pair of crossed swords over a green leaf.

"Let's take a look in here," he suggested and Pike followed him through the heavy, wooden door.

The inside of the shop was dark and dusty, its walls bare with countless empty pegs where swords, axes and other weapons would normally hang. A few sets of mostly decorative armor adorned wooden stumps that had been cut to the shape of an upper body. The shopkeeper, a gaunt fellow with dark, greasy hair, leaned against the empty wall behind a desk, watching Jax pick his way through the various other items laid out on the tables in the shop. The shopkeeper turned and nodded as Brian and Pike entered and Jax glanced in their direction and went back to his browsing, picking up a leather pouch and holding it up to his belt.

"There aren't very many swords here," Pike commented, looking up at the few dusty blades that still hung upon the wall.

"That's 'cause Cerric's come and took 'em all," the shopkeeper said. "Got to have steel for the soldiers. Sent a team of 'is soldiers an' bought 'em all half price too."

"You would sell your goods so cheaply?" Brian asked.

"Did'na have a choice, with them soldiers. They'd have just taken 'em."

"Do you have any other swords than the ones here on the wall?"

"I might 'ave one or two special blades I'm holding for some folks has disappeared," the shopkeeper said. "Who's askin'?"

"We're fighters in the tournament," Brian said. "My friend here has a sword but it is in rough shape."

"Let me see it," the shopkeeper said.

Pike shrugged and drew his sword, then laid it on the table, keeping his hand on the hilt.

"Disgraceful, it is," the shopkeeper said, looking at the blade. "You'd as like to get the locking sickness from this as get cut by such a jagged, rusty blade."

Pike shrugged.

"It's a cheap sword for the tournament," he said, sliding it back into his belt. "I'd like a better one, but I don't have much coin."

"Come to fight for the free fare then," the shopkeeper said, folding his arms.

"It sure helps," Pike said with a grin. "I had some work then I didn't."

"Well, if you wants yerself a new sword, best have some real coin."

Pike sighed and glanced toward the door.

"That sign outside, what's it mean?"

"It's a sign with swords on it," the shopkeeper said, squinting at him.

"And there's a leaf on it," Pike said. "Does it mean anything?"

"You seekin' for meaning in yer life?"

"I seek the truth of things, yes," Pike replied.

"What sorts of things might that be?" the shopkeeper asked.

"The candle's flame, the shadow it makes, the leaf on the tree and the sound that it makes," Pike said with a shrug. "Things like that."

"Then it might be you've come to the right place."

The shopkeeper turned and walked away, opening a door at the back of his shop, then he closed it behind him. Brian and Pike waited, expecting the man to return. As they waited, Jax wandered over to where they stood. He nodded at Pike.

"I saw your fight today," he said, smiling enthusiastically. "You've got some real luck there, lad."

"Thank you," Pike replied.

"Or maybe it's skill," Jax said and a dagger appeared in his hand as though from nowhere.

Almost as quickly a similar blade appeared in Pike's hand and he blocked the thief's attack, then jumped back, taking a defensive stance.

"I thought so," Jax said, tucking his dagger away in his sleeve. "You can relax. I'm not going to fight you."

"You just attacked me," Pike said. "And now you want to pretend like you didn't?"

"I heard you talking with the shopkeeper. You seek the truth?" Jax asked.

"I do," Pike replied.

"And say again what truth is it that you seek?"

Pike stared at the thief for a moment.

"I seek the truth of fire," he said.

"Interesting," Jax commented, then he turned and clapped Brian on the shoulder. "Well, Brian, it looks like your young Xallan friend is a Ranger."

"What's this?" Pike gave Brian a suspicious look.

"Pike, this is Jax," Brian said. "He's a thief."

"And a member of the order," Jax said. "You're in safe company."

"You're both Rangers?" Pike asked.

"No," Jax replied. "Brian is a defender."

"There are no more defenders," Pike said, putting his dagger away. "I was told there haven't been any for generations."

"That's what I thought," Jax said. "But strange things have been happening of late."

"Yes, very strange things," Pike said, then he turned and looked at Brian. "How did you become a defender?"

"That's one of those strange things that have been happening," Brian said.

"What brings you to Maramyr, Pike?" Jax asked.

"The shadows," he said. "There are signs of the dark power in Xalla and I suspect it has to do with the mage priests and the King of Maramyr."

"The shadows?" Jax scratched his chin. "Well, that would explain a lot."

"This doesn't concern you?" Pike asked.

"Oh, it does," Jax said. "I just don't know what to make of it all quite yet."

"Don't mind Jax," Brian said. "He's always like that."

"You said he was a thief," Pike said, then he turned to Jax. "How can you be a Ranger and a thief?"

"They're quite complimentary," Jax said. "While I search for the truth of things, if I find other things along the way, I steal them."

The shopkeeper finally returned, carrying two swords with him, both of them beautifully crafted and with jeweled hilts that were ornate and elegant, the kinds of swords a king might use. He handed one of the weapons to Pike and the other one to Jax.

"You're lucky, Jax," he said. "Cerric's nearly cleaned me out of weapons, but I managed to save a few."

"This is a beautiful sword," Pike said. "It is far too costly for me."

"You're a Ranger, ain't ye?" the shopkeeper asked.

"Yes," Pike replied.

"And you're in need of a weapon, right?"

"I suppose so."

"Well then, you've asked for aid and I'm offering it. If you don't want it, I'll take it back."

"No," Pike said. "I'll take it. How much do you think a sword like this costs?"

"That sword was made special for one of the local nobles who had all of his gold and his lands confiscated by Cerric," the man told him. "It costs more than most folks see in a lifetime, but if you're thinkin' of selling it, I'll definitely be takin' it back now."

"Of course I wouldn't," Pike said. "I was just curious."

"Well you better cover them swords up with leather strappings, or some thief might try to nab them from you," the shopkeeper said, giving Jax a dirty look.

"Tell me, Pike," Jax said, ignoring the man's obvious jibe. "Are there many Rangers in Xalla?"

"No," Pike replied. "There aren't many at all."

"That's a shame," Jax said. "Our numbers are few here as well. We will have to find some way to coordinate between the groups. It's good to know there are some Rangers in the Xallan lands."

"I should be more clear," Pike said. "There aren't any Rangers left in Xalla. I am the only one."

"And you came here looking for others in our order?"

"No, I didn't know there were any of us left," Pike said, glancing at the three of them. "The reason I came here is to kill the king."

"Kill Cerric?" Jax laughed and put his arm around Pike's shoulder. "Brian, I think I am starting to like this friend of yours."

*****

Cerric stalked through the palace in a dark mood. The voices that he had banished from his thoughts had returned, emboldened by the baiting of the blasted mage, Stavros, and to his further irritation, he could no longer sense the power of the one who carried the shadow. He could still feel the shard of darkness and the shadow that slowly grew within the young man, but that was all. Before Stavros had bound and blinded the mage priest he had sent, Cerric had only managed to get a quick look through the trees of the group that traveled with the old mage. Other than Stavros himself, whom Cerric recognized from years ago, the rest of the travelers appeared to be common.

An old man, two women, one barely clothed and the other in a cloak, and a young man with a sword, were all he saw, and no matter how much he repeated the memory in his thoughts, he could not make out their faces. The only thing Cerric was sure of was that the young man was the one with the shadow within him, for he could feel its dark power emanating from him. Shortly after his conversation with Stavros, the power had become vague and distant as though it had moved somewhere far away. Cerric knew that if the mage had traveled using magical means it would have meant an abrupt change, but instead, it had faded gradually, which he figured could mean only two things, either the young man had traveled to the sea or he had gone to the desert, where the sands, like the waters, would obscure his power. From where the group of them had been when the mage and the Darga had attacked, it was likely the latter, and it was worthy of some concern, for the desert people had long been enemies of his power.

Shapeshifters they were, these desert people called the Ansari, and their power was as ancient as his own. Cerric blinked as memories of fighting the loathsome beings flooded into his thoughts and he struggled to place those memories clearly in his mind, knowing that they were actually the experiences of the dark god that lived within him. With the confusion came the voices again, like echoes of thoughts, impressions of arguments from the dark corners of his mind, and it frustrated him that he could not silence them completely.

Cerric made his way to the grand courtroom of the palace and found Berant, sitting at a desk in front of stacks of paper, with messengers coming and going. The soldiers at the door stood at attention when he entered and Berant rose from his seat as Cerric strode across the polished stone floor.

"Your highness," Berant said, bowing his head. "Have you come to look over the information we have gathered from the tournament?"

"Yes, Berant," Cerric said. "Tell me, what sort of warriors has this little game brought to the city?"

"These are the latest round of challengers," Berant said. "Over two hundred fighters remain."

Berant held up a stack of papers then slid them across the table toward Cerric, turning them around. On them were drawn various likenesses with written notes, detailing where they had come from, the weapons they fought with, their ranking in the tournament, the battles they had fought thus far.

"And how soon before we have them down to the last fifty?"

"Three days at most," Berant said and Cerric shook his head.

"That is too long," he said. "Find a way to move up the schedule."

"Only so many fights can happen at a time, highness," Berant replied. "I could assign more soldiers to act as officials for more matches, but there are a limited number of fighting circles."

"Then don't use the circles," Cerric suggested. "Have them fight elsewhere."

"Where would you suggest?" Berant asked, biting back his aggravation.

"Anywhere! What does it matter, so long as they fight! Have them fight in the streets. The people will love such a display. They seem to thrive on chaos."

"Are you sure that is wise?" Berant asked, cautiously. "There could be damage to the city."

"Have you seen the entrance hall to the palace, Berant?" Cerric scoffed. "I care not if a few shops are smashed. I want this tourney concluded. The victory banquet will happen tomorrow at nightfall."

"Yes, your highness," Berant said as Cerric stormed out of the room. He turned to several of his messengers. "Summon the tourney officials."

"Yes, Lord General," one of them said and they scampered away.

Outside the courtroom, Cerric heard the footsteps of the messengers running down the stone hallways and the steps of the palace behind him as he made his way along a wide hallway to a large, glass-covered balcony that overlooked the city. He walked outside and looked out over Maramyr, its lesser palaces, the busy streets, shops in various districts and numerous dwellings sloping all the way down to the city walls. The nearby temple district was busy with black robed mage priests putting the final preparations in place for the spell they had been working on and the Academy, which was close to the palace, teemed with people, many of them warriors who had come to compete in the tournament and many more common folk who had come to watch.

The city looked like an anthill, with countless little creatures going about their miniscule lives, convinced of their own importance, all the while unaware of how easily they could be manipulated or destroyed. Cerric watched as they moved about in senseless chaos, each of them driven by their own thoughts, their own desires and the trivial things that made up their individual worlds. He heard a loud cheer from the tournament grounds as one fighter bested another and he shook his head in disgust.

How pointless it was, and wasteful, all that energy expended on foolish things when it could all be directed toward something more. Soon they would all fall in line and know their purpose, a purpose he would give them, for he was their god, and such pitiful creatures were not worthy of anything more than to worship him. Soon their time would come, and once he had gathered his power and secured his temple, he would set about removing all those who might dare to oppose him, and this time he would prevail, for he had learned the truth of darkness and nothing would stop him.

And still, the voices whispered at him from inside his thoughts, like gnats in his ears, no more than an irritation but no less persistent. Cerric turned and walked back into the palace, heading for the dungeon, to take his frustrations out on his guest, who he was sure was near to his breaking point. The god-king smiled in amusement, wondering how fearsome the creature might become once he assumed his true power, a power that Cerric would take and add to his own, and he laughed to himself as he walked through the palace halls, imagining what kind of terror he himself would become.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Borrican awoke to dark golden shadows and warm heat all around him, except for an arm that rested lightly on his chest, cool against his hot skin. He turned his head and saw a tangle of dark, reddish hair and he was confused, then he realized that he was himself again and it was all he could do not to leap to his feet to be sure of it. Borrican took a deep breath and steadied his thoughts, then he carefully brushed away the hair that spilled over his shoulder and onto his chest, and he saw her. Ariana's face, her pale skin and delicate features as he remembered them, lay upon his shoulder, and her knee rested on his leg as she slept soundly next to him on the rocky floor of the cavern.

He noticed something strange on her shoulder, giving off a luminescent glow, and he pushed her hair aside, revealing a layer of glittering gemstones that were almost like scales running down her arm, and giving off a faint light from within them, pulsing and shimmering in the darkness of the cavern. From where Borrican lay, it looked as though other parts of her body were similarly covered as well, then he nearly jumped again when he realized where they were, and what they had done together.

Memories and flashes of what had happened entered his thoughts and he felt his cheeks flush and his pulse race as he remembered it all, every kiss, every touch, every caress, the urgency of their embrace and the rush of passion that swept them away. His body quickened with renewed yearning as the images ran through his mind and he fought the urge to wake her in the hope of more. As his breathing became deeper, he noticed her scent, her taste, her essence was in every part of him, as though he had bathed in her very being and it was completely intoxicating to him. Borrican held his breath for a moment and let it out slowly, focusing his thoughts and trying to remember how this had come to be, hoping to make some sense of it all.

"You're awake," Ariana said, her voice dry and gravelly yet soft and light.

"I have only just awakened," Borrican said, nervously, hoping she would not notice his arousal or that they were naked in each other's arm. "Just now."

She nestled into the crook of his neck and put her hand on his cheek, and slid her thigh overtop him, letting it fall upon his upper leg and the part of him that ached at her touch.

"I could sleep forever," she said, seeming not to notice, or perhaps only half awake. "I am so tired."

"Are you well?" Borrican asked. "I mean, are you hurt?"

"I am not hurt," she said, then she laughed a little. "Well, not really."

Ariana opened her eyes again, and saw that Borrican was truly back to himself, the way she had dreamed it. It was a strange dream, one that blended from one thing to another, with Borrican trapped as a dragon, angry and hurt, to a different dream, one that she had visited before, more than once since she had known him, though she would never admit it to him. It was a dream that had left her sheets wet more than once, and her body trembled at how powerful it had been. Then the fog of sleep lifted a little more and she realized where she was and that she was not remembering a dream, but remembering, and the gentle ache in her body told her the truth of it.

As she truly awakened, Ariana fought the urge to leap to her feet, almost in shock that she was so close to him, and disturbed that a part of her wanted nothing more than to be a lot closer. As the memories of everything that had happened between them returned to her, Ariana wondered how much of it Borrican would remember, for he could not even speak for most of the night, but he had responded to her every thought with eager purpose and an intensity that she had never imagined possible.

"Are you yourself now?" she asked, deciding to stay the way she was.

"I think so," Borrican told her. "I am not trapped in that beast anymore."

"The beast is gone, Borrican," she said.

"No, I can feel it," Borrican said. "It is still there."

Ariana shook her head and smiled.

"It is you, Borrican. You are the dragon and the dragon is you."

Borrican knew that what she said was true. Something deep inside of him told him that it was, and somehow her words were more than just words, but thoughts as well, and he knew the truth of them.

"How can I hear you inside my head?" he asked. "I thought only dragons could do that."

"The gift your father gave me," she said. "I didn't understand it at first and I still have a lot to learn, but there are things I just know somehow, and I can feel things in a different way."

"What about us?" Borrican asked, nervously. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know," Ariana said. "There is so much in my thoughts that I am trying to learn, and the dragons I met explained some of it, but I think I may have bonded you."

"I am not exactly sure what that means myself," Borrican admitted.

"It means you have to do what I say now," Ariana replied with a sleepy laugh and she moaned a little as she stretched and shifted her leg a little higher.

"What do you mean?" Borrican asked.

"I don't really know," she said, opening her eyes a crack and squinting at him mischievously. "I think it means I am your queen now and I can order you around if I want. Will you do whatever I say, Borrican?"

"I don't know if I like that idea," Borrican said.

"You seemed to like it last night," she said.

A few images of the two of them flashed through his thoughts, and he realized that the thoughts were coming from Ariana, the same way the dragons shared their thoughts.

"Please don't remind me," Borrican said. "I'm not sure what to make of all of that."

"Don't be silly. We can figure it out together, even if it takes many nights, and even some days," Ariana replied, tilting her head up and looking into his eyes. "Do you know your eyes have fire in them?"

"Really?"

"They do," she told him. "They're strange to look at, but pretty, I think. They were like that for a moment when we were at Kandara, right before you changed into a dragon, but now they're like that all the time."

"I guess it's to match your hair," Borrican said.

"My hair?"

"Yes, it's red now," he told her. "And you've got gemstones on your skin like the dragons do. That's strange to look at as well, but it is very beautiful. It suits you."

"Did you just tell me that I am beautiful, Borrican?"

"I guess I did," he replied, all of a sudden feeling a little awkward, and not sure what to say.

"It's okay," she said, sliding her leg up a little more, so the inside of her knee touched him, heightening his arousal. "I can feel your thoughts, even when you won't let me hear them."

"Are you doing that on purpose?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said, and she moved her leg a little to let him know that she was very aware of what she was doing. "Now I can return the favor for all those times you teased me."

"Ariana, please," Borrican said, exasperated and she laughed and put her hand to his cheek and turned his face toward her, so that his gaze would meet her own.

"Would you like me to stop?" she asked, her lips curling in to a half smile.

Borrican did not know how to answer, so he tried to change the subject.

"How did you get jewels on you?" he asked, trying to look away. "I thought only dragons could do that."

"Something happened to me when I fell into the river of fire," Ariana said. "And I'm not sure if it had something to do with the people who live at the edge of the fire and the snow, or if it is part of the dragon gift."

Borrican noticed something else and he lifted her hair away from her cheek.

"You've got the same thing on your face where you burned it," he said.

"Really?" Ariana was surprised. "I didn't notice. Does it look odd?"

"No. It is different, but I like it."

"Can you see my scars still?"

"A little," he said. "But the place where you were burned is like it has turned to metal and gemstones, like the elven mask you wore."

"Curious," she said. "Maybe Vale or one of the other dragons might have a mirror I can borrow."

Borrican felt a little odd at the mention of Vale when the memory of how she had attempted to bond him came into his mind. Ariana arched an eyebrow at him and he knew that she could hear and see what he was thinking. Borrican quickly covered his thoughts, squirming inside from embarrassment and worried that she might be offended.

"You've met Vale?" he asked. "Have you met her mother Vana? They have been helping me while I have been here."

"It's all right, Borrican, I know about Vale," Ariana said, sensing his unease. "She was trying to save you, to stop the madness."

"I know," Borrican replied. "I just don't know what to say about it."

"You don't have to say anything," Ariana said. "Vale and I understand one another, though I am a little worried about her."

"Why? Is there something wrong?"

"I'm not sure. The power that helped me save you did something when she and I met. It was like we felt each other, the same way I can feel you, and I know she can feel me as well. It is very strange, I think we may be bonded in a way, but that does not bother me. What worries me is that I can feel that she is confused and upset by something."

"Where is she? Is she hurt?"

"No, she is in no danger, and she is not far away," Ariana said. "I would like to go and see her."

"Do you think we can we just go?" Borrican asked, looking over at the heavy, iron chains that were scattered across the floor of the cavern, chains that had held him captive so he would not harm anyone or himself.

"I don't know," Ariana said, and she disentangled herself from him and slowly sat up, then she looked in the direction of where she could feel echoes of dragon voices through the heavy stone of the cavern. "I have the feeling there is something happening with the dragons. Do you think you can change back into one?"

"I would rather not," Borrican said, sitting up as well and crossing his legs in front of him.

"It is fine now," she said and she leaned forward and put her hands on his shoulders. "I can tell you still worry about falling prey to the beast, but you have no need to fear."

She kissed him lightly on the lips, the ends of her hair draping over his shoulders and Borrican squirmed a little more.

"I don't know," he said. "What if I can't change back again?"

"Don't be afraid, Borrican," Ariana said, her voice becoming a little more firm. "You have never been, nor will you ever be a coward."

"Of course not," he said, an edge coming into his own voice and his anger rising almost at once. "Why would you even say such a thing?"

"I just wanted to see if you were still you," she said. "You still get worked up about things and try to hide it."

"You have no idea," Borrican told her as he fought to bring his blood back down to a slow boil.

"I do," she said. "I understand all of the troubles you went through. That is part of the gift, and you will start to know things now that I have shared it with you."

"What sort of things?"

"Ancient things," Ariana said. "Dragon things."

"I don't understand," Borrican said.

"You will," she told him. "Now, we should probably go find out how much trouble we have caused. It would be better if you were a dragon, so get on with it."

"I would rather not be a dragon," Borrican said, but it was too late and he felt himself beginning to shift and change back into his dragon form. Ariana stepped back as he grew in size, taking up a lot more space inside the cavern and towering over her, and Borrican looked down at her with an accusing look in his eyes. "You did that?"

"No, you did."

"No, I did not," he growled.

"Don't argue with me, Borrican," Ariana said. "How do you feel? Do you feel like a beast?"

Borrican realized that he felt as he had before the madness overcame him, and though the fire within him burned even hotter and his emotions were almost overwhelmingly strong, he somehow felt like he had gained some sort of balance.

"No," he said. "I feel mostly like myself."

"Then let's go," Ariana said, walking along the cavern ahead of him.

"What about you?" Borrican asked, as they made their way toward the light at the opening. "The dragonlands are vast and it is better to fly. Does the gift allow you to become a dragon?"

"I do not know," Ariana said. "I had not thought of it, and I don't know if that would even be possible, but it doesn't matter, for I have a vassal."

They exited the cave to a quiet scene of rocky desolation, amid the barren peaks and ridges that surrounded them, except for one dragon, who soared down from the sky and came to a landing.

"Storm," Borrican growled, remembering the dragon's name, and how he had fought with him out by the flows.

"Akandar," Storm said, nodding his head. "I am pleased to see that you live."

"Pleased? I would not have thought you would be," Borrican replied.

"I see, despite the wisdom you have gained that you still have much to learn, Borrican of the Akandra," Storm said, then he lowered his head. "You wish to fly, my queen?"

Ariana climbed up onto the dragon's back and settled in behind his neck. She could feel Borrican's confusion at Storm referring to her as his queen but she chose to ignore it for the time being.

"Take us to the dragons," she said and she felt the echo of a thought from him. "You have seen Vale. How is she?"

"She wishes to see you," Storm told her. "But it might be wise to speak to the elders first. There has been much discussion of the two of you, and it is always best to be present when one is being discussed."

"What about Vale?" Ariana asked. "Will she not meet with the elders as well?"

"Vale does not wish to see any other dragons, except her mother or Akandar. You are welcome, of course."

"Then we will see these elders and then look in on Vale," Ariana said. "I can tell that something troubles her, but she will not share her thoughts."

"You will understand when you see her," Storm told her again. "Vale warns that you should guard your thoughts carefully among the elders."

"Will the elders make trouble?" Ariana asked.

"I do not know. I am not an elder," Storm said.

"The elders decreed that I should be killed," Borrican said, feeling his anger rise, but then he felt a calming thought from Ariana. "Tell me the truth, Storm. How bad did it get? How much of a beast did I become?"

"Akandar, you were the most terrible thing I have ever seen or heard, and I do not admit such things easily," Storm told him. "Every single dragon wanted to kill you, except for Vana and Vale of the Aledra."

"And now?"

"Now it is different," Storm said. "It seems that you are no longer a wildling."

"Then what is the problem with these elders?"

"I do not know such things," Storm said, turning his head and glancing over his shoulder at Ariana.

"Let us find out what these elders have to say," she said.

Storm leapt into the air and Borrican did the same and the two dragons flew over the sharp, jagged ridges toward the growing din of dragon thoughts, like a multitude of whispers echoing upon one another, ever louder as they made their way to the great lair of the elders. As they flew, Borrican flexed his wings, feeling the power of his dragon strength and noticing that it seemed far greater than he remembered. He also noticed that Storm seemed a lot smaller than before, but realized that it was he who had become larger.

They arrived at the hollow mountain to find it surrounded by dragons, more than Borrican had thought even existed, all of them on the ground surrounding the mouth of the giant cavern. Storm let out a challenging roar, but the dragons on the ground barely glanced up at him and did not make any room for him to land.

"They do not respect my challenge," Storm said, with more than a hint of frustrated anger in his thoughts. "Perhaps they will listen to you, Akandar."

"If you think so," Borrican replied.

"They will," Storm said, his voice confident.

Borrican took in a deep breath and then let loose his most fearsome challenge, and the sound of it took him by surprise. His roar had changed somehow to something more menacing and violent than Borrican intended, a challenge to any and all. The dragons all turned and looked up to the sky, some of them growling in response and others taking to their wings, but they moved aside, leaving a path as Storm flew down and landed, with Borrican coming down behind him.

The waves of anger from the dragons were thick in the air like heat and though they guarded their thoughts, even Ariana could tell that the dragons were not particularly pleased to see them. She dismounted from Storm's shoulder and walked forward, purposely ignoring the dragons that growled and bared their fangs at her, the instincts instilled in her by the dragon gift guiding her. Though she was tiny in comparison to the enormous creatures, the dragons respected strength of will most of all, and that was what she projected with her energy and her thoughts. As before, flames flickered in the air around her as her power rose, and behind her, Borrican roared again, a dangerous, threatening call that forced the dragons back further, making way for him as he followed Ariana into the cave.

Inside, they found Vana standing at the center of the vast cavern, waiting for them, and Ariana sensed the presence of even more dragons, powerful creatures, many with power that felt ancient to her, looking down from the many dark alcoves above. She walked to the center of the hollow mountain and Borrican stepped beside her, his enormous, dragon form rumbling the flat stone surface with every step.

"Who are you that comes to the dragonmount in such a form?" growled one of the dragons from the alcoves above, his voice rumbling deep with power that seemed to shake the cavern.

"I am Ariana Coromay, Queen of Maramyr, Princess of the House of Solari, Third Seat of Elvanar, and Queen of the Akandra," Ariana responded, her voice every bit as powerful.

"You are no dragon," said another voice.

"The queens of Akandar have not been dragons for many generations," Ariana said. "This is known to you, and all of dragonkind."

"We know this, but we do not approve of it," rasped an older dragon. "We have never approved of this."

"Your approval is neither sought nor required," Ariana responded, the echoes of her voice almost a growl in the vast cavern.

"Insolence!" A dragon from high above shrilled, with sharp and imperious.

"You are a presumptuous child," said another. "It would take but a flick of a claw to wipe you from existence."

Borrican growled ominously behind her, his fearsome dragon voice rumbling in the still air. He felt Ariana's thoughts telling him to hold and he calmed himself, but only grudgingly. The thought he had already sent to each and every one of the elders was clear, that they could all expect to be torn to pieces if they dared put a claw near Ariana.

"I see young Akandra still hovers on the edge of madness," commented another one of the elders.

"I assure you, my thoughts are quite clear," Borrican growled.

"You would challenge us all then?" said another dragon.

"I would rather not," Borrican replied. "That is not why I came here, nor is it my wish."

"And what is your wish?" asked another elder.

"My wish is to free Kandara and to kill this god-king who has usurped the rightful throne of my queen," Borrican replied. "I will honor the oath of the Akandra, for that is no mere wish, it is my duty as Akandar."

"And you, little queen," another dragon said. "What is your purpose?"

"To free my people from the darkness, to take back the crown that was stolen from me. I will restore peace to the lands," Ariana said. "That is my purpose. That is the purpose of any noble ruler."

"And what would you have of dragonkind?" Vana asked, her voice less confrontational than the elders, her question explanatory more than anything, and Ariana got the impression that there was more to Vana's question than there seemed.

"Will the dragons of this land offer aid to rid the world of this god-king?" she asked. "Do the dragons that live among these wastes have the courage to stand against the power of this dark god who plagues the kingdoms to the south?"

"What do we care of such lands?" asked another dragon. "Why should we concern ourselves with the problems of lesser creatures? Why should we care about your human cities and your elven forests?"

Ariana could sense the elders' antagonism at the mention of the elves. She had felt the same thoughts emanating from them when she had mentioned her title among the people of the forest. She could tell that Borrican wanted to answer and she was glad of it, for he had fought Cerric, and knew how powerful he and his priesthood of black robed mages had become.

"War is coming," Borrican said. "Cerric will not stop until he has conquered all the lands. I have told you this, and yet you sit here, discussing it, asking why you should care. I have now gained some measure of the wisdom of my line, knowledge of things past, things many of you, ancient though you may be, with old wisdom, and I now know of the oath and the truth of fire. I did not know of this when I fought Cerric, but now I do, and there is no doubt, the shadow has returned."

"The shadow disappeared a thousand years ago," one of the elders said. "The elder gods banished it from this world, never to return."

"I know not how, but the shadow has returned," Borrican said. "And Cerric commands this power."

"Nonsense. No matter how powerful he might be, he is but one man," another dragon said. "We have given this story of yours much thought. One may claim to be a god, but the gods have left this world, never to return. It is doubtful that this Cerric is as powerful as you say."

"Cerric could kill any one of you as easily as one would crush a fly," Borrican growled. "If you do not believe me, then go and find out for yourselves. Or are you too cowardly?"

"You would dare to insult us in such a way?" snarled another elder, who moved to the edge of the alcove where he perched, glinting eyes staring down at the two dragons and the young woman in between them. "You are barely more than a wildling, bonded to an abomination that has no right to carry the gift of our race, and you would dare to question the wisdom of the elders and accuse us of cowardice?"

"I am Akandar," Borrican growled. "You are welcome to challenge me. And, make no mistake, if you threaten my queen again, I will kill you."

"There is no need, Borrican," Ariana said, her voice cool and dry. "They are not cowards, they are weak, and thus they may as well be dead."

Ariana stepped forward and reached for her power, bidding the smooth stone beneath her feet to crack, freeing the lava that lay deep beneath. She stepped atop a broken slab and, with her power, she pushed it upward, rising up into the vast cavern until she stood high enough to see inside every darkened alcove. The lava beneath her swirled and glowed darkly, flashing in sets of dragon eyes within the shadows, but it was not bright enough to light the darkness.

"Behold," she said as she let the flames within her blaze to life, lighting the inside of the vast cavern and driving away the darkness, illuminating the alcoves where the dragons lay.

In the lower alcoves were great and powerful dragons, younger members among the dragon elders. Above them, the dragons appeared older, wizened and thin, their strength having faded with age, and further above, the oldest dragons were little more than skin and bones. Only the lowest of the dragons in the hollow mountain appeared to have any strength, and though the ancient ones at the top retained the power of their thoughts, it was nothing more than an illusion.

"What have you hoped to accomplish by this?" one of the older dragons asked.

"You call me an abomination," Ariana said. "You are the abominations, weak cowards who deign to command dragons while pretending to be otherwise."

"We are elders!" snapped another dragon, angrily. "We are aged and we are wise."

"Age does not confer wisdom," Ariana replied. "You sit here, with the knowledge of your forebears, powerful dragons of the world long past. But what do you know of this world? Have you witnessed the destruction of an entire nation? Have you seen the armies that crush the land underfoot? Do you know of the mages who have become priests, followers of a mysterious god? And what of the so-called king, a usurper who has conquered Kandara, the self-proclaimed god-king who killed Eric Akandar, a proud and powerful dragon? A man killed a dragon with naught but his bare hands. Thousands witnessed this and yet you would ignore it, even deny it? Do you fear the truth? If this power of the shadow has returned, do you fear it? Will you face it? Or will you abandon your oath? What would that make you? Weak? Cowards? Oathbreakers?"

"Enough!" said one of the dragons, a large and powerful male, as he leapt from one of the lower alcoves, clawing his way toward Ariana.

Before the dragon had even spread his wings, Borrican was on him, claws and talons gripping and twisting him, and slamming the dragon hard upon the stone floor of the cavern. Borrican pinned him to the ground and with a growl he opened his jaws moving to bite at the dragon's neck, but he stopped at a thought from Ariana.

"Enough," she said, calmly. "As the rightful ruler of Maramyr, I call upon the nation of dragons to recognize the ancient oath of fire. As a ruling seat of Elvanar, I call upon dragonkind to honor the oath, to aid and protect, and as queen of the Akandra, I call upon you to honor the wisdom of dragons and keep to the oath, or submit to the ruling line."

"That claim was abandoned long ago," one of the oldest dragons said.

"That claim was set aside," Ariana said. "The elders are stewards. If you wish to remain as such, you will honor the oath."

"You stand upon dangerous ground," rumbled another dragon, one who was old but still very powerful.

"I stand upon a pillar of earth and fire," Ariana replied. "And from where I stand, you stand in the shadows."

"What is it you want?" asked the older dragon.

"The truth," Ariana said. "I have already made my request."

"And we shall consider what you have asked," the dragon replied.

"Then consider wisely," Ariana said. "Time grows short."

She slowly released the lava flow, lowering herself back down to the ground and let her flames die down to a faint flicker. Borrican let go of the dragon he held in place and stepped over toward Ariana as she stepped off of the stone, which slid back into place in the floor.

"Vana," said one of the elders. "Since you have aligned yourself with the Akandra, you can be responsible for them. We will summon you once we have discussed these matters."

Vana nodded and said nothing.

"Ariana of the Akandra," the elder continued. "You are not of dragonkind, but you know our ways. You have taken a vassal and bonded a champion, so you will be considered dragonkind, and protected as would any queen, but the dragons you command will not be spared the right of challenge by others, especially given the challenge you have issued to every single dragon. Borrican Akandar, we no longer sense the madness in you and have stayed our decree, but we have not yet rescinded it, thus should you issue a formal challenge, you will not be afforded the customary honors of single battle. Do you understand this?"

"I care not," Borrican growled. "If a dragon wishes to challenge me, then he will be given due honor. If a group of dragons challenge me then they will have proved themselves cowards and will deserve the full extent of my wrath. Cowards without honor will not be spared. Do you understand this?"

Borrican glared at the elders, letting his thoughts free and making it clear that he was deadly serious in his words. The things Ariana had said to them had awakened many things within his thoughts, and he now understood why she had challenged the elders. The oath of Akandra and the oath of fire, both resonated in his mind, along with the memories of his line, and the truth, that the Akandra were not simply the rulers of Kandara, they were the oldest ruling house of dragonkind. That was the claim with which Ariana had threatened the elders, and through the connection of their thoughts, he knew that she did not actually intend to start a war of succession, but was simply pressuring the elders to act. Borrican was impressed that she would be so bold and clever, not because he did not think her capable, but because she had truly become a queen, and a powerful one at that.

The elders offered no thoughts, their minds closed in silence, so Borrican turned and walked out of the hollow mountain, followed by Ariana, with Vana close behind. Borrican knew the custom of challenge was expected when leaving the presence of the elders, but instead, he walked out into the daylight and faced the multitude of dragons, and he let out a screaming roar, a challenge to all, but instead of the wildness of the beast that had driven them to frenzy, now his call was powerful and assured, the command of a king.

"You do not make things easy, Akandar," Vana said. "I suggest we fly to my valley."

"That would be best," Borrican agreed.

Storm lowered his head for Ariana, then the four of them took to the sky as the other dragons milled about the dragonmount, their thoughts a growing din behind them. Ariana felt something from the strange connection she seemed to have with Vale and she discussed it privately with Storm, who shared it as well.

"I must go and see Vale," she said to Vana and Borrican. "She wishes to speak with me alone."

"Is everything all right?" Vana asked, her motherly concern coming through in her thoughts.

"Vale is not hurt," Storm said. "I was with her a short time ago."

"Is it safe where you will go?" Borrican asked.

"I will be fine," Ariana said. "The dragons will not touch me. You, on the other hand, make for a most interesting challenge, Borrican, and I am pretty sure that is my fault."

"I understand," Borrican told her. "And yes, it is entirely your fault."

"Then let us fly to my valley," Vana said. "They are not likely challenge you there."

"Take me to Vale," Ariana said to Storm, and they cut away from Borrican and Vana and headed out over the rocky peaks, quickly disappearing into the clouds of smoke that rose from the rivers of lava below.

"Hold on," Storm said as he tucked his wings and fell from the sky, streaking downward among the crags and cliffs. He flew around tight corners, narrowly missing sharp rocks and sheer faces, making his way deeper between seemingly impossible crevices, until they reached a deep gorge that steamed and smoked with pools of water and streams of hot lava. The four dragons Ariana had met before stood guard outside the mouth of a cavern and Ariana felt their eyes upon them as Storm spread his wings and slowed their descent.

"Couldn't we have just flown over the top of all those mountains and dropped down here?" Ariana asked as Storm came to land upon the ground outside the cavern.

"No," he said. "This is a private place, where other dragons are not welcome. The rocks block dragonsight, so others cannot easily see where we went."

"I understand," Ariana said as she climbed off of his shoulders and dropped to the ground. She nodded to the four drakes, who stared back at her with challenging looks in their eyes, and she turned to Storm. "Why do they want to fight me?"

"They are drakes," Storm said. "They seek a queen who is worthy of claiming them."

Ariana now knew a lot more about what it meant to claim a drake than when she had fought Storm and she also understood what was expected if she claimed them as vassals. It was bad enough that she had already claimed Storm and she shook her head, pushing such things from her mind.

"I can't think about that right now," she said.

"I am aware of this," Storm said. "They are aware of it as well."

"I am glad," Ariana said. "I am only becoming aware of these things. I was not born with the wisdom of Akandra, you know."

"You did well with the elders," Storm told her. "I have never heard of any dragon speaking to them as you did. I continue to be curious about the wisdom of Akandra."

"I don't know if I can give you that wisdom, Storm," Ariana told him, figuring she might as well be honest with him. "It may be the way of dragonkind, and there are many among my people who bond with more than one, but it is not so common that I am entirely comfortable with it. I am not sure what to make of it yet."

"Worry not," Storm said.

"If I do not bond with you, will you end up wild like Borrican?" Ariana asked.

"If I remain unbonded, then yes, eventually," he told her.

"And it is the same for them?" Ariana looked over at the four young dragons.

"It is the same for all drakes."

"What have I got myself into?" Ariana said with a sigh.

"You have become dragonkind," Storm said. "It is the way of things."

"Remind me not to accept any more gifts from dragons," Ariana said.

"I do not understand this," Storm replied.

"I suppose it does not matter," Ariana said, shaking her head. "I would do it again."

"That is good," Storm said. "You have claimed me and I must be bonded."

Ariana stared at him, unable to hide her exasperation. Storm chuckled, a rumbling laugh from deep in his throat and she could tell that he thought the situation was somehow humorous.

"You find this amusing?"

"No, my queen," he said, dutifully. "It is strange to me that such things would worry you, but from your thoughts I am starting to understand a little of your ways. Unlike the problem with Akandar, there is still much time before I would be in any danger of becoming a wildling."

"How much time?"

"Time enough," Storm replied and Ariana got the impression from his thoughts that it was not urgent, though he appeared to find her discomfort amusing for some reason.

"Well, let's not worry about it, shall we?" Ariana suggested.

"I am not worried," Storm replied. "You might consider claiming those four drakes as your vassals, if you truly plan to fight this god-king."

"Let's not talk about that right now either," Ariana said. "Vale is waiting."

"Yes, of course," Storm said. "I will wait for you here."

Ariana smiled and walked into the mouth of the cavern. Inside, the steam from hot pools of water that gathered in breaks in the rock created a thick, warm fog and the rocks dripped wet and were green with moss, algae and small vines. Ariana touched a hand to the green growth on the wall of the cavern and felt the earthy peace of her elven powers awaken. It was like a cool breeze cutting through sweltering heat, and the tranquility of touching something alive and growing calmed the flames that now burned relentlessly within her. Ariana continued deeper into the cave and was surprised to find that the flora became even thicker the further in she went and that some of the vines and plants gave off a kind of light that reminded her of the way the stones that Dala and her people wore glowed with power, as did the ones that had melded with her own body, though in a way that was far more subtle, so much so that she hardly noticed them now. Thinking about it, Ariana realized that the gemstones that adorned the many dragons she had seen did not seem to give off any light and she wondered if it had something to do with the difference in the nature of her power.

Deep inside, the cavern widened into a surprisingly vast chamber, almost like an underground valley, complete with trickling streams, bubbling pools of water, and thick vines that hung from high above that looked almost like trees growing upside down. On the far side of a large pond of water that glowed like many of the plants in the cavern Ariana saw Vale, curled up and resting on the ground just beyond a bunch of large round stones. Ariana touched her toe to the water and found that it was very hot, but nothing like the lava flows, so she waded in and swam across it, discovering that it was far deeper than it looked, and unexpectedly refreshing, despite the heat. She emerged on the other side and saw that Vale had opened her eyes, though she had already felt the dragon in her thoughts, acknowledging her when she had first set foot in the cave. Ariana stopped and stared when she realized that what she had thought were stones covering the ground in front of the dragon were nothing of the sort. All around her were at least several dozen eggs, each of them at least as big as her head, and she could tell from her link to Vale's thoughts, though they remained guarded, that the dragon was upset.

"Vale, are these all yours?" she asked.

Vale drew in a deep breath and sighed, smoke and steam pouring out of her nostrils as she stared at the eggs. Ariana felt Vale's power change and the dragon shifted before her eyes into the young woman she had been before. She rose to her feet and walked between the eggs toward Ariana.

"They are," she said and as she drew near, she reached out and put her arms around Ariana and rested her head on her shoulder.

Ariana felt a flood of emotion enter her, and the same overwhelming sensation she had felt when she and Vale had touched one another before. It was almost the same as what had happened when she and Borrican had been together, which was a little unnerving but Ariana could not worry about such a thing with Vale in such a state. She was confused, upset and angry with herself, but mostly she was worried.

"What's wrong?" Ariana asked, pushing away Vale's thoughts from her own mind so she could tell her herself, in her own way.

"What's wrong?" Vale looked up at her, her eyes filled with tears, then she looked around at the dragon eggs. "Can't you see?"

"I see," Ariana said. "I just don't understand."

Vale stared at her and realized that Ariana might not understand, despite the wisdom she had gained. And why would she? Such a thing was almost completely unheard of among dragonkind.

"It is rare for there to be more than a few eggs to a clutch," Vale told her. "Long ago, there were more, five or six, and every generation, there have been fewer and fewer. Now it is common for a bonding to produce one, maybe two. This has never occurred."

"Isn't this a good thing for dragonkind?" Ariana asked, putting aside her own awkward thoughts about with whom it was Vale had bonded.

"I don't know," she said, and she slid down and sat on the ground among the many eggs, with her legs to the side. Ariana crouched down and then joined her, sitting with her legs crossed.

"Will there be any troubles from this?" Ariana asked.

"I don't know," Vale said. "It is very confusing for me."

"Then explain so I can understand," Ariana said.

Vale steadied herself, taking a deep breath, and she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"I tried to tame the wildness in him," she said. "My mother warned me of the risk, that the bonding might only be a partial one, but I did not imagine it would mean this. I don't know why I was so determined. I tried the bonding over and over, and it was so close every time, and I could feel the bond in me, but the wildness stayed and grew worse and worse. If you had not come, if you had not bonded him, he would have been killed."

"I know," Ariana said. "I am glad I arrived in time for it would have brought me great sorrow if something had befallen him."

"I know that, Ariana," Vale said. "The reason I wanted to see you alone was so we could speak privately, away from the prying minds of the elders. I have seen the wisdom of Akandra."

"You have?" Ariana was surprised.

"Yes," Vale said. "You gifted it to me when we first met, and I do not know how such a thing is possible, but when we touched we shared our wisdom. I think very soon you will also begin to know the wisdom of the Aledra, if you don't already."

"Is bonding how wisdom is shared?" Ariana asked.

"Yes, but you must come to understand about bonding," Vale replied. "The wisdom of a line is passed down to wyverns by birth, and then that wisdom is shared by bonding with drakes and dragons, but only wyverns can pass true wisdom to others, though all dragons can slowly gain some amount of wisdom through the thoughts of those they have bonded."

"So you have passed your wisdom to me and I have passed mine to you?" Ariana was trying to understand why Vale was so bothered.

"Yes, but that does not happen," Vale told her. "I have never heard of two queens bonding before."

"What does it matter?" Ariana asked.

"Perhaps it doesn't, but it is confusing since it appears that if either of us claim a drake or bond a dragon, they become bonded to both of us. You have chosen to claim Storm as your vassal, and yet he is also now my vassal."

"I did not choose to claim Storm," Ariana said. "He challenged me and I fought him, and now he does what I tell him, but he also wants me to bond with him."

"Of course he does," Vale said. "If he is not bonded by a queen, then he will become a wildling. Bonding also gives wisdom, and dragonkind pride themselves on being wise."

"I think we have a different understanding of wisdom," Ariana said. "The wisdom of which you speak is the memories and knowledge of all the dragons."

"Yes that would be a way to describe it," Vale said. "What is wisdom to you?"

Ariana thought about how to say it in the clearest way.

"Wisdom isn't simply having knowledge," Ariana said. "It is understanding what to do with that knowledge. There are those who have great knowledge and have lived many experiences, but that does not always make them wise. Some become bitter, like my uncle, while others become satisfied by what they know and they become blind, thinking their knowledge to be complete. The priesthood is like that."

"You have thought about this a lot," Vale said, feeling Ariana's thoughts and catching glimpses of the memories she had shared with her.

"If I understand the nature of this wisdom, then you have my memories," Ariana said. "You know of my life."

"As you know mine," Vale replied. "Your path is very different from the life of a dragon. You have had many hardships."

"The life of a dragon is very different from what I have known," Ariana said, smiling at her. "I may see some things in your thoughts and memories, but they are still your experiences, and I understand them from my own life. It will take some getting used to, to say the least."

"I suppose it is something we must both learn," Vale said. "It was difficult for me to accept that you could bond the Akandra and I could not, but somehow he is now bonded to me through our bond. I do not understand this. Somehow two queens have become bonded, though it is true that you are a very unusual queen. It is also very strange that you have come to have the wisdom of the Akandra, not by hatching from your mother, as is the way for wyverns, but as a gift, given to you by a dragon. "

"Perhaps it is not to be understood, but simply something that is," Ariana said.

"I believe it is part of the wisdom of Akandra," Vale said. "Truthfully, I am only beginning to understand the wisdom of my own line."

"All of these dragon thoughts are a little unexpected for me as well," Ariana said.

"Of course," Vale said. "I must ask, will you claim the other drakes as vassals?"

"I am not sure I am ready to commit to that," Ariana said, surprised that she would be so forward about such a thing, and Vale immediately felt her trepidation. "Is this normal among dragons, all this talk of bonding? I am still trying to understand what has happened between me and Borrican and now I am being asked if I will bond with other dragons?"

"You are a queen, and there is much pressure for queens of late, for there is a problem among dragonkind," Vale told her.

"What kind of problem?" Ariana asked, and the thoughts and memories she had learned from Vale began to filter into her mind, along with the quiet worries and fears shared privately among dragons.

"Many wyverns are no longer bonding," Vale told her. "They are unable to bond."

"What does that mean? Will there be no more dragons?"

"With fewer bondings come fewer hatchings. The wyverns are worried about it, and the elders are concerned, but it is something that dragons find difficult to discuss. It is not our way to show fear."

Ariana started to understand the problem as more of the knowledge she had gained became clear in her mind.

"If fewer wyverns will bond, then it means fewer dragons," Ariana said. "It also means the wyverns who will still bond must claim and bond every drake or there will be more of them falling to the madness that affects the males."

"Yes," Vale said. "It is part of the problem there are many more drakes than wyverns. When a young wyvern is born, she gains much of the wisdom of her mother and queen dragons no longer bond once a wyvern is born, since the daughter carries on the tradition of claiming vassals and bonding dragons. But now, many queens who have not yet hatched a wyvern are no longer able to bond. It creates an imbalance."

"I would imagine it would not be easy for the queens who now must bond more dragons than before," Ariana said. "But if there are fewer bondings, there must also be fewer drakes."

"There are, but the balance is tilted very far now," Vale said. "The group of drakes stand guard outside this place because I am the only remaining queen."

"What about the queens who birthed them?" Ariana asked. "They are not all from the same queen, are they?"

"Those are their last hatchlings," Vale replied. "None of them will bond, and now I am the only remaining queen who will bond, and a queen cannot bond her own offspring. Do you see the problem?" Vale looked around at the dozens of dragon eggs that surrounded the two of them. "Who will bond with them? And there are so many. It is my fault. I should only have attempted the bonding once."

Ariana felt several memories pass through her mind and she was both taken aback and impressed with Vale's repeated efforts to save Borrican, and she continued to be surprised that she was not jealous. Perhaps it was from sharing Vale's memories and understanding that she had simply done what she thought was right, that she was able to accept that they were bonded in more ways than one.

"How long have the elders known about this?" Ariana asked.

"The problem began before I was born, but it has become worse over these past years," Vale told her. "The elders do not know the reason, but my mother believes there is something in the flows, something that is causing the queens to no longer seek vassals. After I was born, my mother joined the elders and tried to tell them of this, but they would not believe that the flows could be harmful to dragons. That is why she no longer sits in the dragonmount."

"What has your mother seen?" Ariana asked.

"Something dark," Vale said. "She believes it is the power of the shadow."

At the mention of the shadow, Ariana's mind flooded with images of an ancient battle, of blinding hot dragonfire reigning down upon the land onto great pools of darkness. Dark energy that consumed all living things flew like bolts into the sky, killing many dragons and quenching their fire, and lightning bolts crackled across the horizon, cutting through the darkness as the wind and rain pushed it toward the burning heat of molten lava, that burned the shadow and turned it to dust.

"There was a battle," Ariana said. "Long ago."

"You see the memories," Vale said.

"It was terrible," Ariana replied, watching the horror in her mind. "The whole world was turned to fire. Many powerful dragons died."

"All save a few," Vale told her. "The most powerful, the Akandra survived, and so did my line, the Aledra. Of those that endured, ours are the only two lines that retain the wisdom of that time."

Ariana was still shocked by what she saw and felt in the memories as they ran through her thoughts.

"So much destruction," she said. "It was almost as terrible as the dark power itself. Was there no other way to stop the shadow?"

"It was the only way," Vale said. "That is the truth of fire."

They both sat in silence, the ancient memories they both possessed showing the insidious nature of the dark power and the horrific destruction it had taken to stem the dark tide that had nearly covered the world.

"If your mother is correct and this power has returned, then it would make sense that dragons would be considered a threat if they fought against the shadow in the past," Ariana said. "Borrican spoke of it to the elders, and maybe the wisdom of the Akandra has shown him things that he understand more than I do, but he believes that Cerric has the power of the shadow, and from what I saw at Kandara, it has something to do with those mage priests."

"There is much that is happening in the world, and things I do not understand though I now share many of your thoughts," Vale said. "Perhaps dragonkind has been away from the world for too long."

"Maybe we can help one another to understand," Ariana offered.

"I would like that," Vale said and she reached over and touched Ariana's hand.

As before, the echoes of emotions that flitted between them became a torrent within their thoughts, and they sat together exploring memories, those of dragons past and many of their own. Ariana was overwhelmed at first by the intensity of Vale's thoughts, but she began to understand the way of dragons and how much of what she thought to be anger was merely the aggressive nature of their being, and was not malicious. It was merely a part of dragon culture, to challenge and to be challenged, always demanding and commanding respect. It was a different way, but it made sense among dragonkind. Ariana was also surprised to discover that the intensity of dragons in their aggression and the rage and anger of dragon thoughts was also matched by a depth of passion that was equally powerful, love and loyalty that could not be swayed by anything or anyone. It was comforting to feel such unreserved commitment from another, knowing that they both would defend each other to the death.

Thought the light of the outside world did not penetrate into the deep cavern, when night finally fell, the two queens, one who was not a dragon, and the other who was, lay together and allowed their thoughts and emotions to carry them away on a warm river of comforting bliss. Together, they let go of their many worries about all that had happened and drifted off to sleep, the first restful night either of them had in a good long time.

*****

Keira nudged Margo and the two women slipped out from underneath the furs where they had been pretending to sleep. They stole over to the hearth, where the fire had burned down and burning coals now cast only a faint reddish glow. Not worrying about burning themselves, since neither the cold nor the heat of flame seemed to affect them any longer, they scooped out handfuls of black ash and mixed it with oil and bits of fat they had pilfered from the food they had been given, making a dark paste out of it, which they smeared over their bodies. Once they had covered the stones that now glowed brightly with the energy that had been absorbed from them, they looked each other over and prepared to leave the dwelling, which was strangely unguarded.

"I can see in the dark, so keep close to me," Keira said.

"Of course," Margo replied, smearing a little more of the black coal paste on the elven woman where the light of a stone was showing through. "Lead the way."

Silently, they slipped out of the stone dwelling and into the icy cold of the night, picking their way through the village to where they knew their belongings would be. Dala, who they had learned was the leader of the village, had offered them to join her people and become watchers, but they would have to give up their worldly possessions and begin new lives. The only alternative to her offer was that they would be put to death, painlessly and mercifully in honor of their service to the order, but killed just the same, for Dala and her people were determined that the village of watchers would remain a secret. Keira and Margo had tried to reason with the woman, but to no avail, so they decided that if the only real option was death, then they might as well try to escape.

With stealth borne of years of training and experience, Keira and Margo snuck to the center of the dwellings where their clothing was kept in piles, laid out before the village fire, ready to be burned as a sign, a symbolic act as demonstration that they would join these strange people who lived in the ice and snow and kept watch over the land of fire. Intending no such thing, the two women waited at the corner of a stone building near the fire circle, holding in place as one of the villagers walked by, then they dashed like two dark apparitions through the glow of the fire, snatching their things and disappearing into the shadows once more. They rolled their clothes into bundles and quickly strapped their swords and knives to their waists and legs, then flitted through the gaps between the dwellings, making their way toward one last place.

Near the edge of the village was a small forge, where they had seen Dala and several of the villagers working with a kind of fire magic, a white hot flame that they had never seen before, and they used it to craft jeweled weapons and armor of the same metal from which Dala's dagger was made. Both Keira and Margo were sure that it was silvergold, a metal so rare that it was believed by many that it could only be fashioned by the gods. And yet, here in this village of watchers, an estranged tribe of people who appeared to be descended from a group of Rangers, there were several who could work such metal, and it looked as though they had been doing so for generations. Though the people of the village seemed to keep no belongings of their own, the weapons and other implements of battle they possessed would fetch a king's ransom at least, if it were even possible to put a price on such items.

The forge was quiet and Keira and Margo slipped in and out, each taking a sword, a dagger and a few pieces of armor that they were able to grab silently without risk of making any noise. Once they were clear of the village and well down the path toward the fields of lava, they ducked into a thin crevice that ran away from the trail, taking a moment to gather themselves. Keira began to unroll her bundle of clothing and Margo shook her head.

"Do you think those will last even a few moments in that heat?"

"And what would you have me do?" Keira said. "Continue to traipse around with nothing?"

"I don't mind looking at you," Margo told her with a shrug and she smiled with a twinkle in her eye. "It isn't like it's going to be cold where we're going."

"Margo," Keira said her name with only the barest hint of irritation, and she felt her pale cheeks flush in embarrassment. "If we are to find Ariana, we should do so as proper Rangers and I am a member of the Queen's Guard."

"And once we find the princess and we return to Kandara and the elven forests, what will you wear when your clothes have been turned to ash? While these stones seem to protect us from the fire as well as the ice, the heat coming from that lava will surely destroy cloth and maybe even leather."

"So, we should walk naked into the fire?"

"How else does one do such a thing?" Margo quipped. "I suggest we don this armor and hope that neither it nor we will melt or burst into flame."

Keira sighed and rolled up her clothing into a bundle once more and they strapped on the pieces of armor they had stolen, shoulder guards, bracers, greaves, which clasped together with linked mail so finely crafted it was almost like cloth. They strapped their newly acquired blades to their sword belts and hoped that the thick leather that hung from their hips would survive the heat that lay ahead.

Once they were equipped, Keira and Margo made their way back out to the path and continued onward to the place where Ariana had leapt from the cliff and into the lava fields below and they found Dala waiting for them.

"You have made your choice," she said.

"No," Margo replied. "We are making a different one. We wish you no harm, but we do not wish to join your people. We are Rangers of the Order, and must fulfill our duties."

"And you would steal as well?" Dala accused.

"And you would kill us if we do not join your people?" Keira responded.

"Your lives were forfeit in the snow," Dala said. "They are no longer your own."

"We happen to disagree with you," Margo said.

"Stand aside, Dala," Keira said. "We wish you no harm."

Dala stared at them, her expression both incredulous and unyielding.

"You will be harmed," she told them. "It cannot be prevented, for you have made your choice."

"You're not giving us a choice," Margo said and then she looked over at Keira and let out a sigh. "This is much like talking to a wall."

They drew their new weapons, ready for the blinding attacks that they knew would come. Dala disappeared, but Keira blocked her attack and shoved her back. Dala caught her balance, then she moved again, barely even a blur. Margo caught her dagger on the crosspiece of her blade, then she smashed her head into Dala's face. The watcher woman staggered backwards, caught off guard and her vision blurred. Keira and Margo took advantage of her confusion and moved in, smashing at her with the hilts of their swords. Dala fell to the ground, and her dagger fell from her hand as she tried to fend them off. Margo grabbed a handful of the woman's white hair and dragged her toward the edge of the cliff and Keira picked up Dala's dagger, taking a closer look at the glowing gem embedded at the end of its hilt.

"How?" Dala cried as Margo held her over the sheer drop. "How have you beaten me?"

"Dala," Keira said as she walked calmly toward her and Margo. "You and your people are watchers, member of our order, and you have been diligent in your task. You are also skilled at making things and your talents as fighters is impressive, but you lack knowledge of the world, and you lack experience of what it means to fight a real opponent."

"It is impossible," Dala said. "I am the most skilled warrior among my people."

"You betray the direction of your attack with your eyes," Margo told her. "It leaves you blind."

"It is the same with your duty to the order. You have become so focused on your task, that you have forgotten the purpose of that task. That you would threaten us, members of your own order, shows that you have lost your way and that you have forgotten why we search, watch and defend."

"We must keep watch," Dala said. "It is our oath, our duty."

"Yes," Margo said. "But what is the purpose of that task? Do you not have an oath and duty to give aid to allies, to shelter and support members of our order? What is the purpose of the order? It is not simply to watch. That is but one of your duties, and it seems you have forgotten the rest."

"We seek the truth."

"If you seek the truth, then you will watch the world, and not just some forsaken lands," Keira said. "Let her go."

"You would throw me to the fire?" Dala asked, accusingly.

Margo shook her head and tossed her to the ground, safely away from the edge of the cliff.

"Stop assuming things," she said. "We don't appreciate what you've done to us, but we're not going to kill you for it. If you want to do some good, you might think about stopping the madness that has gripped Kandara. You and your people, you are Kandaran, aren't you?"

"We are watchers," Dala said.

"You are Kandarans," Margo said. "You may look different now, your hair turned white and marked with symbols and stones, but I know my own people. Your duty is to protect Kandara, and while you have been up here in the ice and snow, watching and waiting, the kingdom has fallen to darkness."

"The kingdom is secure," Dala said. "The oath of the dragon king is eternal."

"The dragon king is dead," Margo told her. "Killed by another king who calls himself a god and commands legions of the dead. If you would care to seek the truth, you and your people can go and see it for yourself. In the meantime, we must find the one you would have condemned, for she seeks one who might stand against the darkness, the Prince of Kandara, a dragon of fire."

Dala slowly rose to her feet and stared at Margo and Keira, then she moved like a blur once again, but she stopped in front of Keira, who pressed the jewel of her own dagger against the center of her chest. Dala gasped and crumpled to the ground as the jewels on her body dimmed and her body became weak. Keira trembled as the power that flowed from the watcher ran through the dagger and into her, a powerful infusion of energy suddenly coursing through her being. She was surprised at the intensity of it, and how pleasurable it was to gain so much power all at once. It was the sort of thing that one who was weak of will could easily want more of, and she did not like that feeling.

"These weapons and these stones," she said, looking down at Dala. "They steal power. I have heard of this from ancient stories, and how such things were hidden away, for they caused much destruction. You and your people must be careful with such power, Dala, or you would risk falling prey to the shadow."

Keira dropped the dagger to the ground next to Dala, who she knew would be too weak to move for some time. Leaving her there, she and Margo walked away and began picking their way down the jagged rocks that sloped off to the side of the cliff, toward the lava flows. With every step closer, the heat became more and more intense, and Margo and Keira both began to feel a little uncomfortable, but at least the glow of the lava gave off enough light that they could see the way ahead. Keira pointed to a dark path of rocks that ran from the bottom of the slope and crossed to a large slab that jutted out from the other side.

"Even with the protection of these stones, I do not like the idea of touching this molten stone," Keira commented as she leapt across a gap between the stones.

"Are you sure that Ariana could have survived it?" Margo asked, jumping across, over the lava.

"She is different," Keira said. "She has the power of fire, and she was unafraid. I think she would have been unharmed."

"I truly hope so," Margo said. "I would hate for us to have come all this way to fail at protecting her."

"We will not fail," Keira said, and she leapt to the next stone. "We must not fail."

CHAPTER NINE

"Is your name Brian?" a voice growled behind him.

Brian looked up from the remains of his plate of food and turned around in his seat at the tavern table to see a mean looking warrior with his sword drawn. He noticed that two uniformed soldiers stood behind the man, looking on.

"Who are you?" Brian asked.

"Answer the question," the warrior said.

Brian pushed his plate away and stood up from the table, turning to face the man.

"Is there a problem of some kind?" he asked.

"Just answer," the warrior growled.

"I'm Brian," he said.

"Good," the warrior replied and he raised his sword to attack.

Brian rushed forward and grabbed the man's sword arm and smashed into him with his shoulder armor, knocking him back. Patrons scrambled out of the way as they grappled, knocking against tables and smashing into people who were too slow to move.

"What's going on here!" yelled the innkeeper.

"It's the tourney," said one of the soldiers. "Final rounds are in the city, by order of King Cerric."

"You're soldiers," the innkeeper complained. "You're to keep the peace, aren't you? Now get them out of here before they ruin my tavern!"

"We're to observe the match," said the other soldiers. "You don't like it, take it up with the King."

Brian felt his grip on the warrior's hand slipping and he was worried that the sword might hit someone so he dodged to the side and let go, then pushed the man's arm forward so his swing would carry too far and hit the floor. The warrior stumbled forward and Brian stepped back, pulling one of his axes free just in time to block a wide swing as the man spun around. He twisted the handle around and tried hooking the blade but the warrior pulled his sword free, then thrust quickly at Brian, narrowly missing his face as he ducked to the side. The blade came at him again and he jammed his axe upward, knocking the sword away, then he dashed forward, throwing his weight into the man and knocking him back toward a table now empty of patrons.

The warrior fell back onto the thick, wooden surface, knocking mugs and plates and he rolled out of the way as Brian's axe came down with a crash. It was not meant to be a killing blow, which Brian had tried to avoid in his fights, but it was obvious the warrior knew that a hit like that would end the fight immediately. He spun to his feet and sidestepped away from Brian as he yanked his axe free from the table, then drew his second axe.

Brian moved in on his opponent, blocking his lightning quick sword thrusts and knocking his blade aside. The warrior was fast, and his attacks were erratic and without pattern, switching unpredictably from short stabs to whirling swings. Brian crossed and slashed with his axes, blocking and cutting at the man, driving him back, then he noticed the patrons behind the warrior, crowding up against the back wall of the tavern. Another wide swing of the man's sword could easily cut someone, and a few of them began to draw their own weapons.

"No interference! Anyone caught interfering in the King's Tourney will be guilty of treason and put to death!" yelled one of the soldiers and Brian saw the patrons stay their hands, though they still kept them on their swords and knives.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that one of the soldiers had raised a crossbow and had it aimed at the patrons. The warrior swung wildly again and the tip of his blade grazed a young man behind him in the chest, and he screamed, but the warrior ignored it. Several patrons, red faced and angry looked as though they were ready to attack the warrior, but the soldier yelled for them to keep back, threatening with his crossbow.

Brian was already angry that Cerric would make such a degree, that tournament fights would take place like this in the city, and he was angered further that the soldiers did not seem to care that regular people might be injured. He knew he could beat the warrior if he cornered him, but the only way to do that would be to press him against the crowd, and they would surely be harmed if he did, so he stepped back, drawing him away, and sidestepped in between jab and blocks, trying to angle the fight in a different direction. The warrior smiled, apparently thinking that he was winning the fight, but he did not shift his position. Instead, his attacks became more powerful, but with the added strength they became slower as well.

Brian let his defense slow down and stepped back again, moving the warrior away from the crowd. He blocked several more jabs and ducked a wide swing of the blade, taking another step backward, letting the man follow him. As soon as the warrior was several paces away from the crowd, Brian noticed the patrons begin to relax and spread out, filling up the space he had just created. Cursing their stupidity was of no use, and Brian knew that he would only lose more space, so this would be his best chance.

He blocked the man's blade and knocked it aside with a lot more force than before, then, moving far faster, he pressed his attack, hooking the blade with the curved head of one axe, then he moved inside his opponent's reach and jabbed the end of his other axe hard at the warrior's midsection. The man coughed as the weapon smashed into his stomach. Brian used the distraction to pull the flat of the man's sword toward him, then he slammed the handle of his axe into the blade. The sword shattered, falling to the wooden tavern floor and Brian followed up by shouldering the warrior hard. The man staggered back toward the crowd and the patrons moved out of the way, not bothering to catch him as he fell to the floor.

Brian turned and glared at the two soldiers as he walked toward them, his grip tight on the hafts of his axes.

"Cerric decreed this, that fights be held outside the tournament grounds?"

"That he did," said one of the men, who pulled a paper card from a pocket and held it out. "As the winner of this match, you are invited to dine at the palace this night with the other top fighters."

Brian snatched the card and the two soldiers turned and left the tavern in a hurry as a number of the gathered patrons began to draw their weapons.

"Saw what you did there," said one of them, an old man, who spoke loudly enough that the rest of the crowd could hear him. "You're a pretty good fighter to draw that careless bastard away from everyone like you did. You have our thanks."

Brian nodded to the man, then he turned around and looked at the fallen warrior, who lay unmoving on the floor, his eyes staring blindly at the tavern ceiling, and his broken sword hanging loosely in his hand. He walked over to him and nudged the man and knew he was dead. Brian bent down and turned him over and saw a dagger sticking deep into the warrior's back. He glanced up at the nearby patrons and they all looked away, clearly wanting to have nothing to do with it. Brian stood, shoved his axes back in the straps on his back, then he walked out of the tavern and went looking for Jax.

*****

The sands were hot and the scouring windstorms did not help their progress as Aaron and the rest of the group made their way into the desert. Shortly after they had crossed back into the desert, they found their way to a small town near an oasis, which was home to one of the dozen fighting circles that were scattered around the lands of grass and sand. They purchased animals that could be ridden like horses, strange looking creatures that Aaron had seen when he was at Ba'shan. The Ansari called them camels and they made travel in the desert a lot easier as Ashan led them across the hot and unforgiving desert.

Even though the endless and ever changing sand dunes gave no indication to where they might be, Aaron had the feeling that they were traveling toward a different destination than the Ansari camp. Aaron found it strange that they were not going back where they had been before and he asked Kasha about it, worried that they might end up losing precious time if they became lost.

"Ansari do not live in a place," she said, looking out over the sand from the back of her camel. "We are like the sand, ever changing. You know this."

"So, the Ansari have moved somewhere else?" Aaron asked.

"Of course," Kasha replied.

"So Ashan is taking us to the other place," Aaron said.

"What other place?"

"The other place where the Ansari will be," Aaron said, a little frustrated.

"There is no other place," Kasha told him. "Ansari are many places. We travel where we will find Ansari."

"How do you know where they are?"

"I know Ansari," she said, then she looked at him, the bright sun and sand glinting in her eyes as she smile. "As do you."

"I don't know where they are," Aaron said.

"Yes you do," Kasha said. "You can feel the desert, can you not?"

Aaron was not sure what she meant and he resisted the temptation to let his power flow, that heightening his senses might allow him to see farther, hear distant sounds or perhaps even scent something on the wind. Kasha seemed to know what was going through his mind and she laughed a little.

"Do not search," she said. "Do not use your senses as you would use a sword. Hear that which you already hear. See that which you already see. Know what you already know. In stillness, feel the sands and the wind, and let them speak to you, feel the whispers of the world."

"You are trying to help me with the things Ashan has been trying to teach me," Aaron said.

"Perhaps," Kasha replied.

Aaron stared at her, frustrated that she was being so Ansari about things, giving him suggestions that made little sense and answers that answered nothing. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting go of his thoughts and trying not to use his senses. Aaron heard the creak of leather as the straps of his saddle shifted atop the beast he rode. He heard the grains of sand scatter as the hooves of the creature took each step and he heard the sand around them shift with each gust of wind. Aaron felt the hot, dry desert air against his face, the wind gently nudging him, almost imperceptibly, and he felt the movements of the creature beneath him and the subtle movements of the earth beneath its hooves. He let the sounds and sensations touch him, sending ripples through the energy that flowed within him. Instead of reaching out, searching, pushing his senses into the world, he let the world speak to him, and he felt its whispers. Aaron opened his eyes and pointed ahead, all of his senses now feeling the world more than before.

"There," he said, looking over at Kasha. "They are just ahead."

"To be is to know," she replied. "And to know is to be."

Aaron looked at her and he sensed something else, another rhythm beating along with her own, a second pulse, smaller and weaker. Kasha saw him staring at her, noticing the bump on her belly, and she smiled at him even more widely.

"And now you know," she said.

They rode along in silence, with a kind of serenity between them, though Kasha was amused by the hints of consternation she felt from Aaron. As they cleared a high dune of sand and saw the Ansari camp ahead, she thought it best to reassure him, for she knew he would have much to concern his thoughts and face great challenges, and it would be of no value for him to be preoccupied with worries.

"Aaron," she said. "You face many challenges, not just from the darkness that awaits you, but from those who would help prepare you, that you might be worthy. If you are to overcome these things, then you must not worry for others."

"How can I not worry?" Aaron was very worried. It was as thought the weight of the world had suddenly landed on his shoulders. "I just don't know what to do."

"I had hoped you would not learn of this," she told him. "But since you know, consider what you must do to stop the shadow within you and the darkness in the world, that it may do no harm."

"And how will you stay safe?" Aaron asked.

"Do not forget, I am not without power of my own, Aaron," she reminded him. "Though your power brings conflict to Ansari and sets the gods themselves on edge, we have fought in the circle and shared our essence, and I have felt you and know you can prevail."

"And if I fail?" Aaron asked. "What if I became a threat to you? That is what everyone fears."

"We have already spoken of this," Kasha reminded him. "Look to what must be done, and do what you can. I have faith in you."

"And what if I fail you? What if I am not strong enough?" Aaron asked.

"It is not your strength or your power that matters, but who you are." Kasha looked down at her growing belly. "If your essence is true, and you are true to your essence, then you will prevail, whether you succeed or fail. And it is up to the rest of us to be true to ourselves and do what must be done, and we are hardly without the means to defend ourselves. To know Ansari is to know true power, strength from within."

"When will it happen?" Aaron asked, curious about her state.

"It is different for every one of my people," she told him. "For some it can take more than the turning of a year, and for others it can be a matter of days. For me, it will be soon, which means that we must part for a time."

"What do you mean, we must part?" Aaron asked.

"It is our way," Kasha said. "When the time comes, I will leave."

"And go where?" Aaron was confused. "You'll just leave, like that?"

"I will return," she said. "And perhaps you will become my husband once again."

"I understand," Aaron said, even though he did not. What he did know was that there was no point in arguing with an Ansari about the Ansari way of things. At least Kasha would be somewhere away from him, which he preferred, considering the threat of the dark power within him and the fact that Cerric and this dark god, Kenra was apparently now searching for him. Pretty soon, the last thing he would want is for the people he cared about to be anywhere close to him.

They entered the Ansari camp without any greeting, their presence quietly acknowledged by a few quiet glances, but the tension was noticeably thick in the air. Ashan led them to the center of the camp, where the Ansari leader was already waiting for them, with a line of warriors, men and women, all of them staring at Aaron and looking as though they would like nothing more than to kill him on the spot.

"Ashan," said the Ansari leader. "You have returned to Ansari."

"I did not leave," Ashan said. "I merely traveled for a time."

"You have brought the shadowbound to us." The Ansari leader glanced over at Aaron. "It makes for an easier task."

"I have not brought Aaron to be judged by our kind," Ashan said. "I have brought him that he might learn and become strong in our way, that he might better know Ansari."

"You would have us add to his power?"

"No," Ashan said. "We cannot confer power, but we can help with knowing."

"And what would you do with this knowledge?" the Ansari leader asked, staring directly at Aaron.

"I intend to fight the shadow," he said. "I seek to stop the shadow. It has plagued my entire life, hurt my family and my friends and caused much hardship in the world."

"And why should we not destroy you now? That would stop the shadow from corrupting your power."

"It would not stop the shadow," Aaron said. "Ashan, a wise man of Ansari has shown me many things, and helped me to better understand the nature of my power. The shadow is in me, but it was put there by another, by this dark god called Kenra, who walks the land in the guise of a man named Cerric who claims to be a king. It is true that the shadow is within me, but I am not the shadow, and I will do everything in my power to destroy it, even if it means ending myself. If that is to be my fate, then let me take what power I have and destroy the true shadow at its source, that it may never return."

The Ansari leaders stood silently for a moment, staring at Aaron.

"Ansari see the world according to our sight," he said. "It is different from the sight of others, a different way of perceiving, for it is Ansari to seek the truth of things, to know the essence of what we sense, that we will be sure of our path in the ever changing sands of the world. And yet, here you stand, a contradiction of light and darkness, flame and shadow, both true and false. You are powerful, yet dangerous."

"I cannot help what I appear to be, but I know who I am," Aaron told him, looking along the row of Ansari warriors. "The shadow seeks my power and I will seek the shadow that I may destroy it. And if I am to fail, then I have already done what must be done to make sure that my power will be destroyed."

"What have you done, Aaron?" Kasha asked.

Aaron turned and smiled. "You can't see the spell?"

"What spell?" Kasha asked again.

Stavros stepped forward and addressed the Ansari.

"Ansari see many things," he said. "If you, a people who are perhaps the most gifted with sight, cannot see the magic we have worked, then neither will the shadow."

"What magic have you wrought, mage?" the Ansari leader asked.

"There are old magics," Stavros said.

"You expect us to believe that you can weave power that we cannot see?"

"Test it then," Stavros said. "Do you see any magic about me? I can tell that you do not. Strike at me with all your might. Only one blow, please. This particular spell can only be used once, and I would rather not be killed."

The Ansari leader laughed. "I will not strike you, mage. You would surely die."

"I am prepared," Stavros said calmly. "Do you doubt my resolve?"

"What is this spell, Aaron?" Kasha asked again and Aaron turned to her.

"It is a spell that only I can use, and only if I am to fall to the shadow," he told her.

"Why have you done this?"

"To save you and Stavros and everyone else the trouble," Aaron said.

"Kasha, this mage is in your domain," the Ansari leader said. "Do you permit this?"

"Yes," she said, staring daggers at Stavros. "I do not approve of this magic, and if it is true, then the mage will live. If it is false, then the mage will die."

"Kasha, why are you upset?" Aaron asked.

"What you have done is not our way," she said. "You would take your own life?"

"Only if there was no other way," Aaron told her.

"There is always another way," she said.

"The Ansari don't seem to have a problem," Aaron said.

"You are not in their domain," she said. "Ansari protect our domain with our lives."

"And how is this any different?" Aaron asked. "You are in my domain and I am protecting you, with my life if need be."

"I do not like it," Kasha said, but she was a little less adamant.

The Ansari leader looked to one of the large warriors standing to his left, the large man named Kazar. "Test this mage."

"As you command," Kazar said, and he walked forward from the line.

Stavros walked toward him until the two of them were an arm's length away. Kazar looked to Kasha, and she nodded to him and crossed her arms. Before their eyes, Kazar began to shift and change, his body growing in size and his skin turning to grey leather. Ivory tusks sprouted from his mouth and his arms and legs became thick as tree stumps as he pulled a hammer from his belt, which began to grow larger as well.

"One hit from Kazar can shatter a mountain," the Ansari leader said. "If your invisible spell can take such a blow, then what you claim may have merit."

"By all means, go right ahead," Stavros said, smiling, though it was obvious that he was a little nervous.

Kazar hefted his hammer, which was as big as a tree, and the air and ground began to shake as he began to draw power from the world around him. He held the hammer loose and low as he shifted his stance, then he wound up the heavy weapon, up over his head and, a moment later, brought it crashing down. Stavros flinched as the hammer stopped barely a hand span above his head, its impact so loud that the air itself seemed to shatter around him. Stavros stood up and straightened his robes, nodding at the Ansari warrior, who stepped back, looking a little confused.

"What was that, mage?" he growled.

"That, my very large friend, was magic," Stavros said.

"Very clever, mage," the Ansari leader said. "You did not seem so sure of this spell when Kazar's hammer nearly struck you. What of the spell you and the young man have crafted?"

"Of that, I am entirely confident," Stavros said. "And you can read me with your Ansari eyes all you want. You can even pry into my thoughts and you will find no doubt, whatsoever."

"He speaks the truth," Kazar said and he hefted his hammer of his shoulder and walked away, shifting back to his normal size.

"And you, Aaron," the Ansari leader said. "You would not hesitate in a dire moment?"

"No," Aaron said. "I would not."

The Ansari leader stared at Aaron for a moment, then he nodded.

"Your words ring true," he said. "You seek to learn our ways?"

"I do," Aaron replied.

"Then let us begin."

*****

Brian found Jax at the Academy grounds, where he and a number of other participants in the tourney had gone to find out why they had been attacked without warning. A number of the fighters were arguing with the officials that it was unfair that other fighters had learned about the change in the rules, giving an unfair advantage, but the soldiers in charge of the tourney were distinctively unhelpful and simply pointed out that the advantage clearly did not matter since the fighters who were still standing obviously won their matches and thus had little reason to complain. A number of shopkeepers, inn and tavern owners and people from the city showed up to complain about the fights destroying their property and injuring people. Word was spreading that at least a dozen bystanders had already been killed, and yet the fights continued.

"The rules are clear," yelled an official, who stood atop a wooden platform, holding a scrap of paper and pointing to the words inscribed upon it. "Fighters are to avoid harming anyone but their opponent. Anyone who suffers damage to person or property can seek compensation from the court."

"And what about the innocent people who got killed?" yelled someone in the crowd.

"That is a matter for the city guard," the official said.

"Thoughtless, careless, fool, that Cerric," Jax said as he turned and walked away from the crowd. "Come on, Brian, I've heard enough."

"How could Cerric change the rules like that?" Brian wondered aloud.

"He's the king, that's how," Jax said. "That's the trouble with kings, they do what they want. You get a good one, things can be great, but if you get a bad one, things can go bad. This whole thing stinks."

"I'm starting to think Pike's idea is worth considering," Brian said.

"It's worth considering," Jax said. "But killing a king is no easy feat, though if I had a chance to slip a dagger between Cerric's ribs, I don't know if I'd be able to resist. It would be a death sentence to be sure to anyone caught for such a deed, no matter how deserving it was."

"Why?" Brian asked, lowering his voice as they passed a group of soldiers, who were out patrolling the streets. "If Cerric was killed, that would mean someone else would rule the kingdom, maybe that princess, Ariana. If she were in power, then wouldn't the person who got her there be a hero?"

"It doesn't work that way, Brian," Jax told him. "Nobles and rulers and such don't like it when those in power get murdered. If they applauded an assassin, it would tell people that murdering leaders is acceptable, and there would be no end to people trying to kill them."

"But if there's a good ruler, why would anyone want to kill them?"

Jax turned and looked at Brian with half of a smile on his face.

"Blessing upon you, Brian," he said with a dry laugh. "It doesn't matter how righteous, just or beloved any ruler might be, there's always going to be some folks who don't like them. It isn't just about how good they are, it's also about alliances, wealth and power, and no ruler can please everyone. There will always be some who think they've been snubbed or get jealous because they think someone else is getting favored by the high and mighty."

"But that happens anyway," Brian said. "When that Baron Manfred got favored by Cerric and took Kaleb's lands, there was fighting and killing to take them back."

"That's right, but it was done in the open," Jax told him. "No one crept into Manfred's bedroom and stuck him with a dagger. He and his soldiers fought and lost, and we took back White Falls."

"And now there's an army camped outside the walls."

"That's right," Jax said. "They're there, Fergus and the lads have got the people safe inside the walls of the keep, and we're here, looking to make a mess of things for Cerric's army."

"And a lot more people are going to die because of the war," Brian said. "If Cerric wasn't king anymore, then there'd be no war."

"Perhaps," Jax said. "Or there'd be a lot of folks being killed in their sleep, poisoned at their tables, and knifed in the street."

"Then why did you say you liked Pike's idea about killing Cerric?" Brian asked.

"I said I liked him," Jax replied. "Besides, he's a Xallan, and they do things differently in those lands."

"But if it's wrong to murder a king, shouldn't it be wrong no matter where you are or where you're from?" Brian asked. "Just because Pike's a Xallan doesn't make it right."

"No, it doesn't make it right, but since Cerric has chosen to welcome the Xallan Queen as his wife then he can take everything that comes along with her."

"So you do agree that someone should kill Cerric," Brian said, still a bit confused.

"Oh, I certainly do," Jax said. "I just don't think it's the right way to go about it. Sneaking about killing people is not a good way to solve the problems of a kingdom."

"But you sneak about and steal things," Brian reminded him. "Shouldn't you be a bandit instead of a thief?"

"I don't steal lands, and I don't steal lives, Brian," Jax said. "Things aren't so easy and simple as you might want them to be. Every situation is different, so you can't just take a single rule and apply it to everything the same way."

"So it is different if Cerric dies in battle than if he is killed by Pike," Brian said.

"It is," Jax said. "Don't get me wrong, Brian. I wouldn't shed a tear if Cerric were to die, by any means, but I'd rather that the person who would accomplish such a service to the world do it in an honorable way, so the people can celebrate and call them as a hero instead of wondering how many other snakes might be sneaking around."

"I'm going to have to think about some of these things," Brian said.

"Good," Jax replied. "I have thought about it a lot. You know that my family were assassins for generations."

"Really?" Brian was surprised since Jax did not seem to like the idea.

"When Cerric's brother, King Gregor was crowned, we gave up the trade. It was supposed to be a new age, a more peaceful time, and it was for a while, until King Gregor and Queen Aria were murdered"

"Wasn't it a fire that killed them, caused by magic?" Brian tried to remember the stories he had heard.

"That's what Cerric claimed because he wanted to discredit the Council of Mages," Jax told him. "The truth is that they were murdered by an assassin."

"Really? How do you know?"

"Because Cerric tried to accuse my father of being the assassin, and if anything hold true about Cerric, if he's pointing a finger at someone, then he's likely got a hand in things," Jax said, and he frowned, thinking about things that had weighed heavily in his thoughts for many years. "My father swore an oath to Gregor to protect him and his family, and no one in my family would betray such an oath."

"The world is a lot more complicated than I ever imagined," Brian said. "I miss the days back on the farm when things were simple."

"The world was just as complicated then as they are now," Jax told him. "The only difference was that you didn't know about it."

"I suppose you're right," Brian said. "Should we try to stop Pike from what he wants to do?"

"You can try if you want," Jax said. "Pike is a clever fellow, but he is going to get himself killed if he tries anything with Cerric."

"And what if we have a chance to do something?" Brian asked.

"That's a decision you will have to make for yourself, Brian. My plan is to get recruited into Cerric's army and try to find Kaleb. If it's true that he and a bunch of Maramyrian soldiers have allied with Princess Ariana, who is the rightful ruler of Maramyr, then I'd rather help them win the war and let them deal with Cerric and Calexis, for that matter."

"Kings and queens killing kings and queens, and the rest of us bleed on the battlefield," Brian said.

"That has long been the way of things."

CHAPTER TEN

Ehlena opened her eyes and saw Stroma leaning against a large tree, staring at her with a look of consternation on his face. His expression changed almost immediately and he smiled, then he walked over to her as she stood from the fallen log where she had been sitting in the gloom of the dark, swampy forest.

"The sandstorms should last for at least a day," she told him as they began making their way through the trees. "I think I will have the strength to stir the desert winds again if need be."

"Good," Stroma said. "If Kenra gets a hold of Aaron before we collect all the books, things will become much more difficult."

"They are safe for now," Ehlena said. "I do not remember it being so exhausting creating such a storm."

"Our powers were greater then." Stroma stepped over a patch of mud and held out his hand to Ehlena and helped her across. "We lost much when the ethereal paths were severed, and our temples are no longer frequented as they once were."

"It is true," Ehlena replied, though she wondered how much power Stroma might have lost. At least she still had followers in places like Aghlar, whose prayers and words of thanks were like little gifts of life that fed into her power. "It is still very odd to know that people worship me as a goddess, and to hear so many voices on the wind."

"It is very disappointing to know how few still pay respect to me as a god," Stroma told her. "But, I suppose it is to be expected, considering that I essentially disappeared for a thousand years or so."

"Things have changed in many ways."

"And for the worse, to my mind," Stroma said as he walked from the rough trail onto a wide road of enormous, cut stone blocks that ran through the forest. "At least some of the old roads are still here."

They continued on through the forest and it opened up to a wide open plain that would have been bare, if it were not for the many hundreds of tents and thousands of soldiers camped outside the walls of the city atop a rise beyond them. As Stroma and Ehlena walked unseen through the army encampment they noticed a number of lizard men ordering the regular soldiers around, and it seemed very much that the Darga were in charge. The city gates were guarded heavily and almost exclusively by Darga troops, and when Ehlena and Stroma made their way past, they were surprised at what they saw inside the city walls.

Xalla Prime, the capital city of the surrounding lands no longer appeared to be inhabited by its own people. The only Xallans inside the walls appeared to be prisoners, none of whom had the look of soldiers, but appeared to be frightened people who had been rounded up and bound in chains. The Darga inside the walls looked different from the ones outside, many of them much larger than their counterparts and some of them with wings, hanging like leathery capes on their backs.

"These creatures are different," Ehlena said as they walked through the streets, past groups of Darga soldiers. "They are far more powerful than the others."

"Indeed, they have changed," Stroma said. "Somehow they are becoming like their ancestors, which is very concerning."

They passed through the palace gates and entered the vast courtyard to find a scene that shocked them both. The cut stone cobbles were stained black and red with wet and drying blood. Chained prisoners huddled together in long lines that were pushed along by Darga guards. Ehlena and Stroma saw one of the prisoners, a young woman in tattered clothes, given a basic sword, her shackles loosed from the chain that bound her to the others, then shoved toward a Darga, who waited, holding a sword that both gods quickly recognized. The sword looked almost like a beautifully crafted weapon of its kind except that the sheen of its metal was subtly different from plain steel and its hilt was ornately jeweled with what looked like a large, blue diamond embedded in its pommel.

The woman stumbled toward the Darga, holding the sword up, almost like an offering, and it was obvious from the way she gripped its hilt that she had never held such a weapon before.

"Fight me," growled the Darga, a female from the noticeable shape of her body and the tenor of her voice. "If you do not fight me, I will eat you."

"Please," the woman whimpered.

The Darga smacked at the sword, knocking it from her hands.

"Pick it up." The Darga pointed the sword down at the blade the prisoner had dropped. "Do you wish to die a coward?"

The woman slowly stooped down and picked up the sword, and she gritted her teeth and gripped the weapon, clumsily preparing to fight.

"That's better," the Darga said, and with a quick dash forward, and before the woman could even react, the Darga plunged the jeweled sword through her body.

The woman cried out and the sword she held fell from her hand as the Darga laughed, then plunged a clawed, leathery hand into her chest. As the prisoner died, the sword flashed and the jewel at its pommel glowed, and the Darga female began to change. Her body filled out, her arms and legs becoming larger and longer, and muscles bunched on her back, surrounding sharp spines that pushed their way through her thick leathery hide. She ripped her fist out of the woman's chest, holding her heart as it beat for the last time and then she opened her wide, reptilian mouth and ate the blood covered organ.

"Another!" she growled from bloody teeth as she shoved the corpse to the ground.

"I will kill you, monster!" yelled a young man with tears running down his face as he dashed forward.

"Ah, a lively one!" the Darga said with obvious enthusiasm.

Ehlena felt a hand on her arm, and she turned to see Stroma shaking his head.

"We came here to find the book," he told her.

"And we will find it," Ehlena said, her voice echoing with power. "But this must stop."

"Would you suggest fighting all of these creatures?" Stroma felt her power subside. "You may be a goddess, but you cannot save everyone."

"We will get the book, then we will stop this madness," Ehlena told him, and she turned and continued toward the palace steps.

"I am curious," Stroma said, glancing back at the Darga as she toyed with her next victim. "I believe that creature wields a godsword."

"Yes," Ehlena said. "It appears that Kenra has found a number of them. I had hoped we might find those weapons and use them against him."

"Well if he has them, then we should as well." Stroma caught up and walked beside her as she made her way up the steps. "If we took that one away, the Darga would have no reason to continue killing."

"I hope so," Ehlena said, walking stiffly ahead, and Stroma noticed tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You feel too much for them," he said as they walked into the palace.

"How can I not?" Ehlena asked. "I can hear them, every voice, every cry, every dying breath. It is too much."

Stroma walked quietly alongside her down a long, unlit stone corridor for a few moments, then he gently touched her arm.

"You do not have to listen," he said. "While we have the power to help many, we have no obligation to do so. It is our choice."

"Though I may be different, my choice remains the same," Ehlena told him. "I will do what I can with the power I have been given."

"As will I," Stroma said. "Remember, you are not without your limits."

"I know," Ehlena replied. "Now, where is the book?"

"It is just ahead," he told her and led the rest of way down the hall.

They entered a large, wide open chamber with high ceilings above and a raised dais at the far end, where a great throne sat empty. In front of the dais, a circle of hooded, black robed mages stood, surrounding a pedestal upon which lay an open book, chanting in low tones as they worked their magic. Above the book, suspended in the air and glowing with power, was a large crystal, like the one in the temple at Maramyr, and all around the room were other, smaller ones glowing as well, as the mages fed power into the crystal.

"What is this?" Ehlena whispered as they walked into the throne room and stopped. "The power in this place is enormous."

"This is Kenra's magic," Stroma said. "He is using the power of the book to bind not just the mages, but all the people as well."

"Why?" Ehlena was confused, for the memories of the goddess told a different story of the dark god. "His way has always been to seek destruction and darkness."

"In the past, the shadow was thwarted by those of us with the power to do so," Stroma said. "Now Kenra gathers power, so much that he will be unstoppable. His power is already greater than before and we are weaker than we once were."

"There are others," Ehlena said. "Aaron will stand against him, but he must not stand alone. We must gather the others, as we did long ago."

"The Ansari will stand," Stroma said. "Kenra and this king he inhabits, Cerric, has made no secret that he plans to attack the elven lands, so the people of the forest will stand by necessity."

"What of the dragons?" Ehlena suggested.

"What of them?" Stroma asked.

"Perhaps it is time they returned."

"They must be summoned," Stroma said. "These Darga creatures are reason enough for dragonkind to become involved. Once we are finished here, perhaps you can travel to the dragons and request their aid. They always preferred you to me anyway."

"Of course," Ehlena said. "A favorable wind is preferable to them than a storm or a lightning strike."

"That is true," Stroma said. "Despite what some dragons may have thought, I can't be responsible for every bolt of lightning. Sometimes bad weather is simply bad weather."

Ehlena looked to the dais and the book.

"What must we do?" she asked.

"It is very simple," Stroma said, digging into his robes. "We replace the book with one of the lesser copies and hope that Kenra does not notice."

"What of his magic to enslave the people?" Ehlena asked. "Will removing the book prevent its effects?"

"I believe so," Stroma said. "At least it should."

"The great Stroma does not know the answer to a question of magic?" Ehlena felt a mixture of surprise and skepticism in her thoughts, the feelings of the goddess combining with her own.

"Despite knowing most things, I do not know everything," he said as he walked toward the mage priests, toward the book that lay on the pedestal.

"Behind you!" Ehlena cried as a winged Darga flew toward Stroma with a sword raised and ready to strike. She nudged the air in the chamber, sending the creature off course, and it narrowly missed Stroma with the swing of its blade, which Ehlena recognized as being yet another jeweled godsword.

Stroma spun around and lightning crackled through the room as the Darga landed upon the polished stone floor and rolled to his feet. Several of the mages turned and glanced at the Darga and at Stroma for a moment but they turned back to the crystal and continued feeding their energy to it.

"Who are you that dares to trespass here?" the Darga growled.

Stroma walked toward the Darga, with lightning gathering around him.

"Who are you that dares to attack me?" he thundered, his voice shaking the entire palace with power.

Several of the mages turned at the sound of his voice, and Ehlena saw that they looked almost like Dakar had, as though their life force was drained. One of them stepped away from the group and walked over to where Stroma and the Darga stood.

"Stroma," said the mage, but with the voice of another, one that Ehlena recognized as Cerric, the king who held the power of Kenra. "I wondered when you might show yourself."

"You are clever if you can see me," Stroma said, glancing between the mage and the Darga.

"You were expected, so I have taken certain steps to counter your magic," Cerric replied. "Do not think I haven't noticed you searching for the books."

"That was hardly a secret," Stroma said. "I am surprised it took you this long."

"The books matter little to me now," Cerric told him. "Their power is past usefulness."

"You have not lost your talent for lies, Kenra," Stroma said.

The mage frowned.

"You are mistaken." The face of the mage frowned. "I am Cerric, King of Maramyr and the true god of this world. This god of whom you speak is but a faded memory, from a long forgotten age. A lot like you, it would seem."

"You are Kenra," Stroma said. "You may speak with the voice of another, but there is no mistaking you."

"Perhaps you have grown feeble," Cerric said. "It matters not. You are too late to stop what I have set in motion, and my power is already greater than that of any god. I am the one god of this world now."

"You are hardly the only god," Stroma told him. "In case you haven't noticed, I am standing right here, and I will be coming for you soon. This time there will be no mercy for you."

"As you wish," Cerric said, his tone cavalier, then he glared at Stroma and his voice became much harder. "I look forward to it."

Ehlena felt a change in the power coming from the crystals and she realized why Kenra had spoken to Stroma. He was trying to slow him down, so the mages could complete their spell. Without even thinking about it, she shifted into wind and snatched the book from the pedestal and barely managed to get to the entrance of the chamber when a blinding flash exploded inside the palace. Tendrils of dark power coursed through the halls, eating the air itself and Ehlena barely managed to avoid being touched by it, the power of the goddess protecting her, keeping the shadows at bay.

The dark energy finally subsided and Ehlena ventured back into the throne room to see the mages lying in a circle around the crystal, which now glowed only faintly and pulsed with a few last traces of dark power. The Darga was crouched, close to the floor, his head bowed, and Stroma stood his ground, encircled in a ball of lighting that burned away the dark flames that fell to the floor around him like burning pitch. The Darga rose slowly, and Ehlena could see that something about him had changed. His reptilian eyes had grown dull and black fire burned away at his scaled hide like acid. The Darga roared, a sound that was a mixture of pain and fury. The flames began to fall away from him and Ehlena saw his eyes become clear again as his reptilian nature resisted the dark power.

"Now, you will die," he said as he held up his sword and advanced toward Stroma.

"You are an interesting creature, Darga," Stroma said. "But you are foolish to think you can fight me."

"I am Meznak, leader of the Darga clans and Commander of the Eastern Army. You will feel my wrath," he said as he ran toward the god.

"Meznak?" Stroma said. "Never heard of you."

Stroma leveled a powerful bolt of lightning at the Darga, ducking out of the way as Meznak slashed at him with his sword. The blade went wide but it absorbed the energy that Stroma had blasted at the Darga. Ehlena noticed the creature growing noticeably larger and the acid burns from the dark energy began to heal. Meznak laughed, exulting in the power that flowed into him. Stroma blasted at him again, this time sending a much thinner and tightly concentrated blast of energy at the creature, like a bolt of white light, it hit the Darga in the leg, cutting a gash that pierced his tough hide and tore through to the muscle underneath.

Meznak roared in pain and leapt toward Stroma, swinging at him with his sword. Stroma moved with a crack of lightning, appearing behind the Darga and grabbing him by one of his wings. He picked up the lizard man and smashed him to the stone floor. Bones crunched and shattered and the sword fell from his clawed grip with a clatter, then Stroma reached down and grabbed the Darga by the head and lifted him off the floor.

"Your one god will meet his end, once and for all," Stroma told him.

"Darga have no gods," the Darga spat, black blood dribbling from his mouth.

"Then why do you follow him?"

"Power," Meznak said. "We will reclaim our power."

"Your clan abused its power," Stroma told him. "It was a mercy to let you live."

"You lie," Meznak growled.

"I am a god," Stroma said, his voice deep with power. "I have no need to lie."

Stroma crushed the skull of the Darga with one hand and threw him to the floor with such force that the stone cracked beneath him. Ehlena was a little unnerved by the hard look on Stroma's face as he burned the Darga blood from his hand then bent down and picked up the sword that had fallen to the floor, but his expression softened a moment later when he saw her standing at the entrance to the throne room.

"You have the book?" He held out his hand as he walked toward her and Ehlena handed it to him.

"I don't know if I reached it in time," she said.

"It matters not," Stroma told her. "The Xallan people are already slaves to their queen, and she has taken up with this Cerric, and through him become the consort to Kenra."

"Stroma, they did not choose to be slaves," Ehlena said.

"No, they did not. It is unfortunate, but there is nothing we can do for them here that won't get more of them killed." Stroma tucked the book into his robe. "We must focus on Kenra. If he falls, then everything else becomes much easier."

"And what about the people out there, dying at the hands of the Darga?" Ehlena asked. "If this is what they are like, I can see why Lexi hates them. We must do something to stop the killing."

"What would you have us do?" Stroma asked. "Kenra knows we are moving against him, and his magic will only make him more powerful. We must find the remaining book."

"And where is it?" Ehlena asked, finding it strange that she could not remember where he had said it was, though she was sure that Stroma had mentioned it.

"I believe it is at Maramyr, or somewhere near to the city," he said. "It is elusive and I cannot tell exactly where it is, as though it is hidden by magic."

"Kenra will expect us," she said.

"I do not think he saw you," Stroma said. "There was a field of energy around those crystals that made me visible, but neither the mage nor the Darga saw you, so Kenra might not know about you, for now at least."

"Once we have the final book, we can stop his power from growing," Ehlena said. "He is still powerful, I think far more powerful than we are."

"Kenra sought the boy, Aaron, from the day he was born." Stroma flipped the sword over by the hilt, letting it hang loosely in his hand. "He sensed his potential even then and has done everything in his power to find him, to take that power for his own. Despite all the power that Kenra has stolen from others, the boy is still a threat to him."

"But Kenra has corrupted his power," Ehlena reminded him. "The Ansari will surely teach him much that is useful, but if Aaron does not come to terms with himself, the shadow may overcome him."

"That will not happen," Stroma told her, his voice as determined as the glint of lightning in his eyes. "Aaron is in the desert with the Ansari, is he not?"

"Yes," Ehlena replied. "He is learning, but it takes time."

"Our time grows short," Stroma said. "We must hurry."

Ehlena nodded, then she turned and took a step toward the corridor that led from the throne room. It was almost imperceptible at first, like a chill running through her, when Ehlena felt the magic of the blade slice into her arm. Stroma gripped her wrist, his crackling energy preventing her from escaping, as the sword to draw her power away. Her body shifted to air around the blade, the power of the goddess reacting instinctively, but it only slowed the sapping of her energy.

"What are you doing?" Ehlena cried, her voice barely a whisper.

"I am sorry, my dear," Stroma said. "If I am to defeat Kenra, I will need every bit of power I can manage."

"Please, Stroma, stop," Ehlena said, feeling her strength ebbing away. "Why would you do this?"

"You are so much like her," Stroma said, his eyes softening for a moment, then his gaze became hard once more. "I cannot allow my sentimentality to get in the way of what must be done. Kenra must be destroyed."

"What of Aaron?" she asked.

"I know you believe in him," Stroma said. "And he is truly powerful, more than should be possible for his kind, but as you said, Kenra has already corrupted the boy with shadow and our time is running short. Were he to fall to the darkness, then his power would be joined with Kenra and it is too much to risk."

"You would betray our oath?" Ehlena asked, remembering an oath they swore to each other, long ago, a memory of the goddess. "Never again would the gods kill one another."

"That was a promise I made to Ayra, the Lady goddess, and she is gone," Stroma said. "You are someone else."

"Please," Ehlena pleaded softly. "You don't have to do this."

"I am sorry," he told her, and a look of infinite sorrow crossed his face, then he looked away, in resolute shame. "You don't deserve this, but there is no other way."

Ehlena felt the power of the godsword weaken for a moment, along with the grip of his power that held her in place, and she took her chance, hoping it would work. She shifted herself to air, dissipating her form slowly, hoping he would not notice as she shifted as much of herself away from the god while keeping her outer form as visible as she could. Slower now, she carefully dissipated the last of her essence, fading herself away as though the godsword was absorbing the rest of her being. She looked at Stroma, wondering if he would stop, hoping that he did not truly intend to destroy her, but she learned the answer when she felt his grip tighten and the godsword pressed a little harder in place, until it finally slipped right through her. The last thing he saw as she disappeared was a tear falling from her cheek and turning to mist as Ehlena, the essence and power of the goddess he had loved, faded entirely, leaving only a profound emptiness.

Stroma slowly tucked the blade under his robe and stood alone at the threshold of the throne room. He looked back at the circle of dead mages, the crystal now turned dark with malevolence, and the shattered throne upon the dais, and he knew what must be done. This king called Cerric, the corporeal host of Kenra, the dark god who was the manifestation of the shadow, must be destroyed at all costs, even if it meant his own life. Determined in his course, Stroma turned and walked from the room, heading down the dark corridor of the palace and out into the world.

In the corners, the cracks and the spaces between the stones of the palace, Ehlena waited, hiding herself in empty agony, feeling as though her entire being had been stripped and lashed with a thousand cuts. Already weak, it was difficult to remain formless but she held on as long as she could, hoping Stroma was gone. Like cloud wisps gathering Ehlena reappeared in the throne room, her form almost translucent from how much power had been taken from her. It took all her determination to return to herself and the effort left her weak and exhausted.

After she regained her breath, Ehlena slowly made her way down the darkened hallway. Outside, in the palace courtyard, she watched, powerless as hundreds of Darga moved out in formation, dragging the chained groups of frightened prisoners along with them. Dozens of the creatures that had managed to gain wings leapt into the air and took to the sky as the army began its march out of the city. With what little power she had left, Ehlena kept herself veiled from sight and she sat down on the steps of the palace, overlooking the stone courtyard stained with the blood of innocents, and she breathed quietly, listening to the world.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Who dares to worship in this temple?" Cerric yelled as he threw open the doors and stormed into the temple.

"Stroma welcomes you," Willem said from the dais, doing his best to smile, despite the dark fury on the face of the god-king.

Cerric stopped a few paces away and looked up at the gaunt, grey robed mage, who wore a patch over one eye. He looked around the vast chamber and saw that it was otherwise empty, a hollow shell, like the power of the god in whose honor the temple had been built long ago, in a different age. Still, even though the temple was empty, save for the mage, he could feel a familiar crackle of static in the air and the scent of a power he knew well. Cerric glared at the mage and then he gathered a ball of dark power in his hand and threw it at him. White lightning struck from every angle, blasting the dark power to pieces before it could touch the mage.

"I see Stroma yet retains a little power," Cerric said.

"The great god offers his divine protection to those why might seek it," Willem said, doing his best to keep his voice from wavering in fear.

Cerric began to laugh, his hard, deep voice echoing through the temple.

"His protection will not last much longer, mage," he said. "And when Stroma has been killed, you will serve me."

"Stroma welcomes you," Willem said, holding up a hand. "He offers you a choice. Receive the gift of absolution, redemption, and peace, or face certain destruction."

"A choice? Do as I say or be locked away. Now he offers destruction? That has always been Stroma's way, thus I offer no such choice. You may tell your god that I will welcome him, that he may fall before me and worship at my feet, and even beg of my mercy, and no matter how much he pleads, he will be destroyed," Cerric told him, irritated at the open defiance of the mage and the elder god, whose time was long past. "As for you, mage, enjoy your moment of mockery, for your life shall be fleeting."

Cerric turned and strode from the temple, cutting through the soldiers who had accompanied him from the palace. They moved out of his way and fell in line behind him, remaining silent at the dark expression on his face. In his anger, Cerric did not notice a few of them glancing over their shoulders at the open doors of the temple and whispering about the bright lightning that coursed up and down the high stone walls of its structure.

*****

Determined to overcome the fears and doubts that she would become a monster, Lexi did her best to focus on her training with Ashan, while Aaron fought at the center of a circle of the desert people. The Ansari were adept at shapeshifting, able to become any number of creatures, and some of them even taking on elemental features, and she was amazed at the numerous forms they used when fighting with Aaron, testing him and taunting him.

Ashan explained to her and Tash, who watched quietly, that Aaron was being forced to fight using only the power that already flowed through him, relying on his essence alone, in the hope that he would become stronger, drawing power in a different way than he had before. If he were to reach directly for the raw energy at his core, using it the way the mages did when they created works of magic, he would allow the shadow to grow, but if he could reach for it indirectly, as the Ansari did, he might avoid the shadow. At least that was the hope.

Lexi had watched Aaron fight for a while and it was obvious that he was at a disadvantage, but she noticed that with every fight he seemed to become stronger. Still, it was difficult to watch, for the Ansari did not spare him their strength, battering him with relentless attacks and only stopping short of killing blows. It was both brutal and delicate, and not without risk to the Ansari either, for they had all seen Aaron fall under the influence of the shadow when he had fought the Ansari leader, and though he did not reach for his power, they could see how tempting it was, especially when he was being attacked.

Lexi's training with Ashan had allowed her to see such things even more than before, and she too worried that Aaron would fall prey to the shadow that burned within him. She realized that her own problem was similar in a way, that she feared the killer, the monster inside of her. Lexi knew the rage and the killing fury within her and she had taught herself how to keep it from controlling her, from making her do things, but she knew that if anyone tried to harm Aaron, who had shown her kindness and had never looked at her any differently from anyone else, then she would unleash her own darkness. Ashan told her that she could learn to channel her rage, to use it as a kind of magic, like the mages and the Ansari did with their energy, and it could make her powerful, so she decided to try harder, to become stronger so she could protect the one who had saved her.

"Close your eyes, Lexi," Ashan said. "Now breathe slowly and deeply, and feel your form."

"I know how to do this already," she grumbled.

"Yes, you do," Ashan said. "But it is important that you learn to do this without having to think about it. To be in a perfect state of self, no matter what form you take, is imperative to retaining who you are."

"I don't know who I am," Lexi said, her words slipping from her lips before she even thought about them.

"That is the greatest truth you have spoken to me," Ashan told her.

Lexi cracked open an eye.

"I do not tell lies," she said.

"I did not say you lied."

"You said it was more true than other things," Lexi said, opening her eyes and squinting at him. "It is one or the other."

"No," Ashan said with a frustrated sigh and a patient smile. "What makes the desert?"

"The desert?" Lexi looked around. "It is sand."

"That is true," Ashan said. "Is that all there is in the desert?"

"There are some rocks and sometimes there is an oasis, but that's different from the desert."

"A those things not part of the desert?"

"I don't know," Lexi said.

"Again you speak a greater truth," Ashan told her.

"So saying I don't know things is telling the truth?" Lexi frowned. "You think I don't know anything."

Ashan ignored what she had said and pressed forward.

"If I asked you who you are, you could tell me your name, that you are Lexi. Would that be true?"

"Yes," she said. "It's my name."

"But there is more to you than merely your name, yes?"

"Yes," she said.

"Your name is just a word, but the truth of you is far more than just a name and far more than what is on the outside. Like the desert, you are not just flesh and bones and skin, you are who you are, and that includes your thoughts, your feelings, things that cannot be seen at a glance. You have your own rocks and oases, and those things remain constant while your form can be like the sand, moving and changing. The secret is to know where the firm places are, and to know where to find your water, even when the sands change and try to bury them."

"I have rocks and an oasis?"

"They are metaphors," Ashan replied. "I speak of the parts of you that remain the same, no matter how else you might change."

"What if I want to change the rocks or if I can't find the oasis?"

"Those are two very different questions, Lexi," Ashan said, pleased that she had grasped the idea though concerned at her reasons for asking. "You must first know the shape of the rocks before you can go about changing them, and before anything, you must know where you can find water if you are to keep yourself alive in the ever changing sands."

"Is it still true if I change things?" Lexi asked.

"You will always be true, if you know who you are," Ashan said. "The more you know yourself, the greater your truth. Your oasis will be deeper and the rock will become stronger, no matter what your sands become."

"I will try again," Lexi said, and she closed her eyes.

"Good," Ashan said. "Now, feel the waters within you, like the oasis, calm but rippling slightly with every thought, and with the things you hear and feel. You are the water."

"I am the water," Lexi said.

"Now, do you feel the rocks within the sand? They are near the water, always."

"I do not know."

"Maybe the rocks are buried," Ashan said thoughtfully. "It does not matter. They are there or you could not stand. Now feel the sand around you, feel the infinite shifting grains of sand gathering together in drifts and dunes. They are your arms, your legs, your body, your form, in one shape now, but changeable."

"I feel it," Lexi said as the sensation of change tingled all over her body, and she began to hear strange things in her ears, almost like voices.

"What is your form? What are you, truly?"

"I do not know." Lexi wavered, distracted by the sounds and the strange feelings that began to echo in her thoughts.

"Ask the question and let the answer come," Ashan told her, his voice calm and reassuring. "What are you?"

"I do not know," Lexi said again, feeling the frustration grow within her. "I cannot tell."

"Don't answer the question, Lexi. Ask it of yourself."

"I can't," she said as the tingling feeling went away. "I don't know."

Lexi opened her eyes and for a moment the world looked strange, like everything had more detail and depth and she could see more than the mere surface of things. She saw the heat radiating in the air from the desert sun blazing upon the sand, and she noticed the cool places on Ashan's face where sweat beaded and evaporated, as though heat was a color. Lexi also noticed that she could hear the sounds of the fight happening nearby and hear limbs moving through the desert air with every swing and step of the battle. In a way, it reminded her of how she felt when the traders had given her the blue potion, as though all of her senses were heightened, but without the nauseating sickness nor the constant craving for more. Instead, she felt clean, her senses sharp and invigorated.

"You did very well," Ashan told her.

"I failed," Lexi said, disappointed.

"No, you didn't," Tash said from where she sat nearby, watching. Ashan turned to her and shook his head, holding his fingers to his lips, then he looked back at Lexi.

"Tash is correct," he said. "You did not fail. You achieved quite a lot this time."

"I did not change," Lexi said, looking down at her hands and arms.

"You did," Ashan said. "Only a little, but you did change, and yet you remained yourself."

"I didn't change at all," Lexi told him. "I could see and hear a little differently though. It isn't like how I learned to see power and essence, and that shadow power." She glanced over in the direction of where Aaron was training with the other Ansari.

"How was it different?" Ashan asked.

"It is like looking through a window but instead of things being less clear from the glass, everything is more clear, and I can see where things are hot and cold and other things too."

"Very good," Ashan said. "The shifting of your senses in such a way is a very promising sign."

"Things still look different than they were," she told him. "Should I make them shift back?"

"If you wish, but there is no need," Ashan said. "It is dragonsight that you describe and with it you can see many things in the world that others cannot."

"How do you know what it is when you do not see with my eyes?" Lexi asked.

"I know what it is, for I have taken dragon form," Ashan said.

"You have been a dragon?" Tash asked, perking up a little. She had asked Lexi not to tell Ashan what happened in the forest, and she was still trying to understand it.

"It is a form few Ansari would take," he said. "I know you have tried to take a form resembling that of a dragon, young one, but to truly become such a creature is difficult and very dangerous if you are not already attuned to it. It also takes many years of practicing with powerful forms to achieve such a transformation."

"Why is it dangerous?" Tash asked, her face pale as she remembered what she had become, and she tried to pretend she was only curious, hoping Ashan would not notice.

"Dragons are dangerous," Ashan said. "They are powerful and they are emotional creatures and the power of dragons comes from anger, which fuels the fire within them."

"Anger?" Lexi asked.

"While anger is not their only emotion, it is the most powerful," Ashan explained. "Dragons are capable of very deep feelings and thoughts, and great wisdom and perception, but it is the rage of the beast that gives them their strength."

"Is that why they are dangerous?" Lexi asked. "They are monsters."

"They are not monsters," Ashan said. "They are very controlled in their ways, for the have found ways to master their anger and use it to make the fire that gives them their power. If it were not for such control, which they have inherited from their ancestors through wisdom that is passed from one dragon to the next, they would become wild beasts. Without wisdom, they would be monsters."

"You said you became a dragon, and that it is dangerous," Lexi said. "If it is so dangerous, why do you want me to be one?"

"I do not want you to be one, Lexi," Ashan said. "The dragon is already part of what you are. It is a very powerful form that you can take, if you choose."

"But Ansari choose not be dragons," Lexi said. "Why can't I become something else?" She thought of the many forms she had already seen the Ansari take in their training fights with Aaron.

"You are not Ansari," Ashan said. "It is possible that you may learn to take other forms, but that would require a long journey of learning."

"Tash can do it," Lexi said. "She can take different forms."

"Tash is Ansari," Ashan said. "It is natural for her. What is natural for you is to be what you are."

"Yes, a monster, an abomination," Lexi said. "That is what I am."

"You are who you are, Lexi," Ashan said. "I do not think you are a monster and neither does Tash. Now let us follow the path of who you are. Are you ready to try again?"

"Yes," Lexi said with a sigh, and she closed her eyes again.

"As before, feel the world, then feel your form," Ashan said.

Lexi listened and felt the world around her again, her heightened senses taking in more than before, feeling the slightest touch of the wind, hearing the tiny grains of sand grinding together underfoot, and she heard the sound of voices again, like distant chatter only they were louder this time and she could almost make out what they were saying. Not to be distracted by them, she focused on the slow shifting of the sand as its own weight collapsed dunes and the wind picked up bits of dust and tiny grains, whirling them and scattering them around. Lexi felt her arms and legs, her entire body, the muscle and sinew, the soft parts of her skin and the scaled parts as well. The tingling feeling returned once more and the voices became louder in her thoughts, distracting her. Determined not to fail this time, Lexi persevered ignoring the voices and focusing on the feeling of who she was, of what she was.

"Lexi," whispered an urgent voice that she thought she recognized as it rose above the chatter. "Please hear me."

"I can hear you," Lexi said.

"What can you hear?" Ashan asked.

"No, Ashan," Lexi said impatiently. "I hear something else."

"Lexi," the voice said her name again and she knew it was the goddess, Ehlena. "You must save him."

"I don't understand," Lexi told her. "What's wrong?"

"Stroma has betrayed me," Ehlena whispered, her voice an echo on the wind. "He used a godsword to take my power. He is coming for Aaron."

"What sword? Why?"

"A godsword," Ehlena said, her voice becoming weaker and her words short. "Both you and Aaron carry one. He seeks power. Use the godsword. It is the only way. Stroma must be stopped. He is coming."

"What do I do? How do I use it?" Lexi asked.

"You are with Ashan," Ehlena said. "He will know. You must hurry."

Lexi's eyes snapped open as Ehlena's voice faded. She looked at Ashan and found it strange that he appeared to have grown smaller, but she had no time to wonder about the changes in her vision.

"Ashan, how does someone use a godsword?" she asked.

"A godsword?" Ashan's lips drew tight and his eyes narrowed. "Why do you ask?"

"Ehlena said this sword is one of them, and she said you would know," she told him as she drew the weapon from her belt.

"Ehlena? When did she tell you about this?"

"She just spoke to me, on the wind," Lexi told him. "She said Stroma is coming to hurt Aaron."

Ashan's eyes widened.

"Show me your sword," he said and Lexi held it up for him to see. "Remove those leather straps from its hilt."

She intended to pry the leather straps from the sword but her sharp, thin fingernails had become sharper, even more like claws than before and they sliced through the leather with one light scratch. The wrappings fell away, revealing a simple yet elegant hilt and crosspiece, with a large jewel embedded in the pommel.

"It is beautiful," Lexi said, enthralled for a moment by the glittering gemstone.

"It is also very dangerous," Ashan said. "That is a forbidden weapon."

"Ehlena said you would tell me how to use it," Lexi told him. "She said you must hurry."

"With the gemstones covered, godsword are much like any other swords, except they are made of a silvergold, which is much stronger than steel," Ashan explained. "If you uncover the gems on such weapons, they give you the ability to take the power of your opponent."

"Take their power? How?"

"That I do not know," Ashan said. "But I believe it is simply a matter of will and desire. That is what the Lady, Ayra told me about them once, long ago. It is strange that she would ask me to explain this, for she knows more about such things."

"Ehlena said she could not talk, that she was weak," Lexi said, feeling strange thoughts within her that made her heart hurt and her stomach turn and she knew what the feeling was. "She sounded very sad, Ashan. She said Stroma used a godsword to take her power."

"What? Stroma would do such a thing?" Ashan's normally placid expression flashed with anger.

"She said he is coming for Aaron," Lexi told him, and she looked over to where he was fighting at the center of the circle of Ansari warriors, then she heard a whisper in the air.

"He comes now. You must stop him." Ehlena's voice echoed in her ear and Lexi took off at a run.

Aaron was tired, bruised, battered and cut in hundreds of places, but he could feel his power rejuvenating him, slowly flowing into him and away from the shadow. It was difficult to let his energy move in such a way, to resist the urge to seize it and use it, especially now that he was no longer cut off and could feel it at the center of his being. Aaron could also feel the shard of darkness, flickering like a black flame, so close to his power, waiting for him to reach for it, almost urging him to use his power, and he pushed away those thoughts and focused on his opponent.

He faced a thin Ansari woman, who took the partial shape of a serpent, striking like a snake in quick attacks, her two swords like a pair of fangs, cutting and stabbing toward him. She had already cut him several times, and the power that seeped into him was barely able to heal his wounds for he needed that energy to quicken his step and match the speed of her blades. He was readied his blade for her next attack, hoping he would be fast enough to counter her and strike back, but then he felt something strange in the air and his skin began to itch as raw energy crackled around the edge of the circle.

Like a wall of lightning the fighting circle was surrounded by energy and with a thunderclap, Stroma suddenly appeared at the center, standing between Aaron and the Ansari snake warrior.

"Stroma, you have returned," Aaron said, smiling at the god, who had become his friend when he was cut off from his own essence, cursed to be unseen by the world, and calling himself Anonymous. "Is everything all right? Where is Ehlena?" Aaron noticed the hard look on the god's face and saw that he carried a sword that was markedly similar to his own.

"Ehlena has fallen, Aaron," Stroma said. "Kenra moves now. We have no time to waste. Come here, my boy."

"What must we do?" Aaron asked, taking a step toward him.

The Ansari woman hissed and bared fanged teeth at Stroma.

"He lies," she said, rearing up on her snake like body, ready to strike. "The god seeks your power."

"What?" Aaron was confused.

The Ansari woman struck at Stroma, her attack far faster than those she had used in her fight with Aaron, but the god moved like pure energy and blocked her swords. With deadly viciousness, she snaked her head forward and bit at Stroma's arm, her sharp teeth tearing his sleeve and cutting him.

"Back!" Stroma yelled and slid his sword away from her two blades, and he slashed at her, his sword a lightning strike and cracking with the same blinding light.

The Ansari woman flew backward as her blades caught part of his attack, taking the brunt of his strength, but the tip of his blade cut a gash across her chest, spilling blood to the sand as she hit the wall of lightning behind her. Her body convulsed as she touched the energy and she hissed and cried as the power held her, trapped in place, paralyzed and twitching.

"Stop this!" Aaron yelled.

"It is too late, Aaron," Stroma said. "I must do what is needed to stop the shadow, to destroy it once and for all."

The smell of burning flesh filled the air and the Ansari fell to the ground, with smoke rising from her dried, dead corpse, and Aaron felt the fire at his core grow hot as his anger rose. He felt the shadow reaching for him and he forced himself to remain calm, steadying his breathing, letting his power flow slowly into him, wishing it would come faster. Stroma flashed with light and Aaron raised his sword just in time to block a lightning fast strike.

"You would kill me?" Aaron rasped through gritted teeth as fingers of power traced across his arms, with fire and heat.

"There is no other way," Stroma said and he pushed him back, hard.

Aaron felt his feet leave the ground at the force of the god's strength and he saw Stroma leap after him. Aaron used the bit of power he had to make himself heavier and he dropped to the ground, skidding backwards on his feet and stopping just short of the wall of energy that encircled them. He caught Stroma's next attack with the crosspiece of his sword and the power of his strike drove Aaron's feet deeper into the hard packed earth. Aaron shoved Stroma back, using the weight and the force he had instilled in his limbs, and the god tumbled through the air toward the other side of the circle of power. The brief hope that Stroma might be caught in his own trap dissipated as the god landed on his feet, standing horizontally on the wall of energy and light. Stroma walked calmly upward and Aaron realized that Stroma had created a sphere of power around them that was like a dome overhead but was impenetrable from any angle, and he knew that he would receive no help from the Ansari, for they could not intervene even if they wished.

"I am truly sorry, Aaron," Stroma said, looking down at him from above. "You are something unexpected in this age, and I had great hopes for you, but the threat of the shadow has returned and I swore an oath to myself long ago that I would stop it."

"We can stop it," Aaron said. "I have been training with the Ansari, learning how to use my power without feeding the shadow. We can fight Cerric together and stop the dark god."

"Kenra gathers power from all around, Aaron," Stroma said. "He is already more powerful than anyone who might stand against him. He was very clever to plant the seed of shadow within you, for yours is one of the few powers in this world that could be a threat to him. Without the shadow, you might have had a chance, but you cannot fight him as you are without the risk of giving him everything. If Kenra were to possess your power as well as what he already holds, he would truly be unstoppable."

"So you want my power?" Aaron asked. "Is that it?"

"Yes, Aaron," Stroma said.

"Can I give it to you? " Aaron asked. "There must be a way."

Stroma dropped to the ground and lowered his blade a little as he stared at Aaron.

"You continue to surprise me," he said. "What I do now may be my greatest regret, and I have had many regrets over the ages. There is a way for me to take your power, Aaron, but with the shadow in you, I cannot simply absorb your energy, or I would take the shadow as well and face the same problem as you. This weapon will allow me to destroy the shadow and gain your power, but to do so requires a killing strike. If I were merely to cut you with this blade, it would make me stronger, but in the time it took, I would be exposed to the shadow. There is no other way, Aaron. Will you truly agree to give me your power, that I might stop the shadow, even if it means you would be destroyed?"

"If it would save everyone, yes I would," Aaron said, and Stroma shook his head with a sad smile on his face.

"I believe you," he said. "It is a hard thing I ask, Aaron, but I must ask it. Put down your sword, and let me do what must be done."

"Promise me you will protect them," Aaron said, glancing outside the circle. "Give me your word that you will do everything in your power and mine to protect them, to keep them from harm. If I am to die, then I would want to know that he others are safe, the Ansari, the people of Maramyr, my friends, and the people I care about. If Cerric and Kenra are destroyed, that will leave three gods, you and Carly and Ehlena to watch over the world. Promise me that you three will keep the people of this world safe."

"I can make no promises on behalf of anyone else, but that is what I intend," Stroma said. "I will destroy Kenra and watch over this world as I have in the past. I will make that oath."

"Then do what you must," Aaron said, and he lowered his sword.

"Your sacrifice will be remembered, Aaron," Stroma said. "That I will also promise."

"If you wish," Aaron said. "That was never important to me. Just keep the world safe."

Stroma walked toward him and raised his sword over his shoulder, and Aaron took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he felt the god's lightning energy touch him, like so many crooked fingers of blinding light and intense heat. He heard the god tighten his grip upon the hilt of his blade, ready to swing, then he heard the sound of steel cutting through flesh, followed by a cry of pain.

Aaron opened his eyes and saw the end of a sword, sticking from Stroma's chest, and he saw a creature that looked like one of the lizard creatures standing behind him. The tattered and torn robes, the blue tint to the scales of the creature and the feminine shape of its body, though much larger than before, told him who it was. The fanged mouth and the reptilian features beneath her horned head were unmistakable even in such a form, and Aaron saw Lexi glance down at him then she began to convulse as the sword fell from Stroma's hand and lightning flew in all directions.

The sphere of energy collapsed around them as the god's energy crashed against it. Stroma looked over his shoulder and saw Lexi behind him, her fangs growing longer and her form shifting as his power flowed into her. He turned his head and looked at Aaron.

"I am undone," he rasped, then he reached out toward him, his hand touching Aaron's cheek, and his expression both panicked and determined. "She takes my power but not my knowledge. Take my knowledge, Aaron. Take what's left of it."

Aaron felt his touch upon his mind, like the way a mage might try to see into a person's thoughts, but it was different. Instead of prying at him, it was the opposite, an offer to look, and Aaron saw Stroma's mind, the thoughts and memories of the god, who had lived through the ages. Like a waterfall, cascading from a great height, the knowledge of the god came tumbling into his thoughts in a chaotic rush, and Aaron could barely make sense of any of it, but the few things he understood struck him with both wonderment and sorrow. Blinded for a moment by the pure energy of the god and overwhelmed by so many thoughts, Aaron focused his vision and looked at Stroma as his form began to fade.

"I will do what must be done," Aaron told him. "I will find a way."

"Perhaps it is better," Stroma said. "You must find the last book, Aaron."

Stroma closed his eyes and Aaron heard his voice in his thoughts, telling him how the books were created and how they might be destroyed.

"I will find the book, and I will defeat the shadow," Aaron said as Stroma disappeared completely.

The robes the god had worn fell slack, hanging upon the sword that had destroyed him, then the blade fell from Lexi's clawed hand to the ground as she stumbled backwards, her form beginning to change. She clutched her head in her hands as long horns grew from her head and her body grew larger, changing shape, and she cried out, her voice no longer small and soft, but now a fearsome cry with a deep and powerful roar beneath it. Great blue wings stretched out from her massive reptilian body and they coursed with lightning as they beat the air, lifting her from the ground.

The sky began to darken and dark clouds materialized in all directions as Lexi flew higher and higher. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped as she disappeared into the clouds, and a great, deep roar echoed across the sky. As quickly as they had come, the clouds faded away, and from the center of them Lexi fell straight down, no longer the massive creature she had become. Aaron tried to reach her, hoping to catch her, but she hit the ground before he could close the distance and the impact was so hard that Lexi drove a deep impression into the dirt around her. Curled up, still holding her head in her hands, she lay unconscious, but Aaron was relieved to see that she was still breathing as he knelt down beside her. No longer held back by the barrier of energy, the Ansari rushed forward and gathered around. Aaron looked up and saw Kasha, Ashan and Tash, along with the mage, Stavros, pushing their way through the crowd.

"Lexi did it, she became a dragon," Tash said, quietly.

"A fearsome one at that," Ashan said, resting his hand on her shoulder.

"Dragons are fierce," she whispered.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The palace was a flurry of activity as servants scurried about, readying the final preparations for the feast that Cerric had ordered. A hundred warriors remained of the two hundred who had fought in the streets and taverns of Maramyr, and the victors took their places at long tables that had been set up in a grand banquet hall, before a raised section at the end where the god-king himself would preside over the evening. Many of the other fighters, who had lost but still survived their fights, were invited as well, to honor those who had found victory. There were rumors that those who had made it to the final rounds of the tourney but did not win might also be offered command positions in the army, lesser positions than those who had won, but a reward, it was said, could offer advancement for those who distinguished themselves further in battle in the upcoming campaign.

"Well the wine is fairly good," Jax said, lifting his cup to Brian then holding it to his lips and swallowing but only taking a small sip, and Brian did the same with his ale.

"I wonder what the prizes will be," Brian said. "I've heard a lot of rumors, people saying it could be anything from being knighted with lands and all to special swords with magical spells put on them by the mage priests. I used to think about being a knight, but this wasn't how I imagined it, so I'd rather get a weapon. I don't feel right without my axes.

"Don't worry," Jax said with a sly grin over the top of his cup. "Your axes aren't too far away."

The invitation to the winners feast had specified that no weapons would be permitted in the palace. Most of the fighters had turned theirs in at the gates, but Jax and Brian had shown up without theirs, and Jax had snuck into the palace earlier and hidden their weapons in a place he knew where they could get at them easily. They saw Pike at another table when they had sat down, but they had agree not to acknowledge each other since the young Xallan was determined to carry out his plan. After being patted down very thoroughly at the gates of the palace, Brian was not sure how Pike intended on killing Cerric, but he did not think it wise to talk about it, even quietly. While the other fighters gorged themselves on food and drink, they ate sparingly and drank even less, keeping their wits about them.

Trumpets sounded loudly at the front of the hall and, from a wide doorway behind the high table, a number of nobles entered the room and stood behind their seats. The servants who brought the food and wine went around telling all the fighters to rise for the king and queen, and once all of them were standing, the trumpets sounded again. Cerric and Calexis entered the hall, both dressed elegantly in black and shining with gold. They made their way to their seats, two large thrones at the center of the long table and Cerric looked out over the hall.

"Champions!" Cerric said, his deep voice reverberating through the hall. "Worthy fighters, guests, loyal warriors. Welcome!"

The soldiers standing guard about the room stomped their feet, their leather and steel armored boots thundering upon the floor, and the room full of fighters did the same. Cerric held up his hand and the noise stopped.

"Dine upon your victories," he said. "And while you eat and drink as champions, each of you will be called to receive your prize. Now, please, enjoy yourselves. You have earned that right."

Cerric sat down at his large chair and Calexis sat as well, followed by the rest of the lords at the high table. The food and wine servants let the fighters know that they could sit back down again and they set back to eating the food and enjoying their wine as, one by one, the names of the fighters were called. It turned out that some of the stories were true, for each of the winning fighters was awarded a new sword and made a captain in Cerric's army.

"Brian of Merrybrook," hollered the soldier with the list of names and Brian rose to his feet, heading up to receive his prize.

"I am Brian," he said.

"Very good," the soldier replied. "See the Lord General Berant for your prize."

The soldier directed him to make his way across the dais to a table that sat in front of the king's table, where Berant stood waiting for him. He turned to face Cerric as Brian approached, and Brian did the same, as he had seen the fighters before him do. They both bowed to the king and queen, who nodded as they drank their wine and continued their conversation, which sounded as though it had something to do with the elves, but Brian could not get a sense of it as the Lord General spoke to him.

"Brian of Merrybrook," Berant said, looking at a page in a sheaf of papers held in a folded piece of stiff leather. "I understand you fought in the tournament with two axes and you are also a hunter."

"Yes, Lord General," Brian replied.

"Alas we have no axes for you," he said. "But sometimes a sword has its uses. Please choose any one of the swords you see before you."

Atop the table was an array of swords, all of them nearly identical, except for the different colored stones that were embedded in their pommels. They looked like the weapons that Brian had found in the chamber deep within the tunnels, and he was surprised to see them there, since the voices of the keep had said they could not be used by those who did not take an oath to become a defender.

"Is there a problem?" Berant asked.

"No," Brian said. "I'm not sure which one to choose."

"Just pick one," Berant told him. "They are all the same."

Brian noticed that the Lord General also had one of the blades hanging from his belt, one with a clear stone in its pommel. He saw one just like it on the table and picked it up, and Berant smiled.

"You are hereby made Captain in his highness' King Cerric's Royal Army," he said. "You will report to the Academy grounds on the morrow where you will receive your assignment for the upcoming campaign."

"Thank you," Brian said and he nodded to Berant, then turned to the king and queen and gave them a short bow. He turned back to the Lord General. "Is it true that we will make war on the elves?"

"Now is not the time to discuss such things," Berant said, his tone turning short and firm.

"Yes sir," Brian said.

"Congratulations, Captain, enjoy the feast," Cerric said from behind a handful of grapes.

Brian was not sure how to respond to a king so he bowed again, then saluted, then turned and walked from the dais and returned to his table.

"That's an interesting sword," Jax said as Brian sat down next to him. "I used to have one a lot like it, the one that friend of yours took off me."

"There's a bunch of them up there," Brian said as he looked at the glittering gem in the pommel of the sword. "You'll get one too, I think."

It was not long before the soldier called out the false name Jax was using in the tournament and he went up to fetch his prize, returning with a sword almost identical to the one that Brian's friend, the young man, Aaron had taken from him. A few more names were called and they heard Pike being summoned up to the front of the hall.

"Do you think..." Brian started to ask, but Jax nudged him in the ribs and he kept quiet.

They watched as Pike bowed to Cerric and Calexis and spoke with Berant, then he picked up a sword from the table. Both Brian and Jax held their breath, wondering when and if Pike would make his move, but he simply walked away and returned to his seat like the rest of the fighters.

"Well, that answers your question," Jax said quietly.

"He seemed so determined," Brian said.

"It is easier to say a thing, and even to want to do a thing, than it is to actually do it," Jax told him. "I think our friend is very young and a little confused. Also, I had a little talk with him earlier."

"You did?"

"Certainly," Jax said. "I told him not to be a fool, and reminded him of his duty to make sure the order would continue. If he is truly the last one in his land, then he has some recruiting to do."

"That's true," Brian agreed.

"Besides, even if he still wanted to do it, the way things are arranged up there makes things a little difficult," Jax said.

Brian thought about it and realized that there would be no way to close the distance between where he had stood and where Cerric sat at the table if someone wanted to attack the king. With Berant standing right there, soldiers on either ends of the table and guards behind the table, as well as Cerric himself, who was reputedly a powerful warrior and rumored to have killed a dragon by himself, if such a thing were even possible, there was almost no chance someone would be able to get near him, let alone get away with trying to kill the king in front of everyone in the hall. No doubt, the fifty warriors who would receive weapons would be more than willing to show their appreciation by hacking an assassin to pieces. Brian was glad that Pike had not gone through with his plan, mostly because he liked the young Xallan, even more so since learning that he was a member of the same secretive order as Jax.

Brian noticed another familiar figure moving up to the front of the room, the fighter he had spoken with in the tavern one day, who kept his face hidden beneath a hood. As before, the warrior had his hood pulled up over his head so it draped down over his face. He spoke with the soldier then walked out across the dais, to where Berant waited and the king and queen looked on. The warrior picked up one of the swords, then he drew it from its scabbard and looked at it and began to laugh, his dry, rasping voice filling the hall.

"You find this amusing?" Cerric asked as his soldiers edged closer to the fighter, who pulled back his hood revealing his strange, almost reptilian features.

"I do find it amusing," he said, pointing the blade at the king. "You would hand such weapons as these to this rabble?"

"Prince Draxis," Cerric said, rising from his seat. "Have you come to beg forgiveness for your failures?"

"I thought to take your head," Draxis replied.

The entire banquet hall fell silent, then Cerric began to laugh.

"It seems you have learned something of a sense of humor in your travels," he said. "Do you have any other amusing things to say?"

"I am amused that you find me amusing," Draxis said. "And I have learned many things in my travels.

"Why have you come, Draxis?"

"I have come to take command of the Xallan Army, as is my right," Draxis said, then he slid the blade back into its scabbard.

"You have been granted the rank of Captain," Cerric said, "If you wish to lead, you will earn that privilege. Now sit down, before I lose my patience with you."

"As you command," Draxis said and he nodded to Cerric, then he turned to Calexis and gave her the same curt nod and walked from the dais.

"Who is that?" Brian asked aloud, his question echoed by many others in the hall.

"That's Lord Draxis," said a large, gruff looking fighter, sitting across the table. "He's Queen Calexis' son, a Darga halfbreed, the Prince of Xalla."

"Why would he threaten the king to his face like that?"

"Perhaps he's a fool," the fighter said with a grunt. "Or he's making some point to Cerric. Who knows what games those royals play."

"I suspect he's making a point to the rest of us," Jax commented. "If he wishes to command, he must act like a commander, and show his authority."

"That's likely true as anything," the warrior said. "Still, seems something risky to make threats at a king, though I doubt Cerric felt threatened. At the battle of Kandara, Prince Draxis got beaten badly by a dragon, then Cerric himself stepped in and slew the creature with not a weapon in his hands."

"I heard that story," Brian said. "I'm not sure if I believe such a thing."

"Believe it, boy," the warrior said. "There's all sorts of creatures in this world and some of them even stranger than dragons, though few are close to being as powerful."

"I've seen a few strange things," Brian said, thinking of the creature locked in the palace dungeon, who Draxis reminded him of in some ways.

"Haven't we all," the warrior said and he took a drink from the mug of ale in front of him, then his eyes focused on the dais. "Looks like the king's got something to say."

"Honored guests," Cerric said, rising from his seat as the last of the fighters returned from the high table. "Fifty of you have received titles, and you will soon be given your commands. You have also been given special swords, ancient weapons that have been lost through the ages and found once again. Great effort has been made to recover these swords, and by strength and by skill you have proven yourselves worthy fighters.

"Now, I give you another gift. These blades possess a special magic. They have the ability to take the power, the strength, the skill and speed of any opponent and add it to your own. You need but deliver a killing blow and have the desire for power firmly fixed in your thoughts. The more powerful your opponent, the more powerful you become, and that is why I have invited all of the other fighters from the tournament to this great feast, that you may quench your blades upon them and become truly strong. For the rest of you, anyone holding a sword will receive a command. Now is your chance to redeem yourselves."

The hall was dead silent as Cerric stood smiling at them, his expression benign while his words spoke of cold murder. No one moved, and Cerric was not sure if they completely understood what he had just told them.

"It is simple," he said. "The more you kill the stronger you will become. You need only think of their power when you strike and the magic of the swords will seize their strength and give it to you. May the strong become stronger and may the strongest prevail!"

All through the hall, the sound of steel being drawn from scabbards could be heard as the new captains began to rise from their seats. Shouts rang out from the other tables and the rest of the fighters, who had come thinking they might receive some kind of secondary prize, ran for the main doors to the hall and found them barred from the outside. As the hall erupted in chaos, dozens of soldiers surrounded the high table and stood guard while the king and queen, and their guests, exited through the doorway at the front of the hall.

"What madness is this?" Jax muttered as he and Brian got up from their seats.

The banquet hall was quickly becoming a battlefield as the new captains set about attacking the other fighters, some of whom had already grabbed chairs, candle holders, plates and anything else they could use to defend themselves. Despite their efforts the blood flowed quickly as fighters were slaughtered without mercy. Some of those who had received swords still stood at their tables, not sure what to do or simply unwilling to participate in such a ghastly scene, but they were quickly surrounded by the other fighters. One of them rushed up to Brian and tried to grab the sword from his belt.

"What are you doing?" Brian exclaimed, shoving him away.

"Give me that sword!" the man yelled and Brian pushed him harder.

"Stop this," Brian said as several unarmed fighters surrounded him. "Everyone stop this madness!"

"If you won't use that sword, then give it here!" yelled one of the fighters, and the whole group of them leapt at him, pulling and prying, trying to get at his sword.

Brian swung his fists and spun around, shouldering into several of them, knocking them away. The fighters drew back and Brian glanced over at Jax, who had leapt atop the table and drawn his sword. One of the fighters tried to grab at his legs but the thief neatly skipped over his reach, then he kicked him in the face, knocking him to the ground. He turned to look at Brian, who was surrounded by a half dozen fighters, all of them eying his sword.

"They're not going to listen to you," Jax told him.

"I don't want to kill them," Brian yelled.

"It is kill or be killed," said one of the fighters. "If you don't have the guts then you shouldn't get to command in the king's army. I'll take that job if you don't want it."

"I told you," Jax said. "Now, come on, let's get out of here."

"A little help?" Brian said as he swatted away at one of the fighters.

"Oh, come on, Brian," Jax said. "Do you really need my help?"

Brian looked around at the fighters, sizing them up.

"No," he said. "I suppose not."

"Ha!" one of them laughed, then Brian's fist smashed into his face.

Brian spun to the side and caught another fighter in the side of the head with his armored elbow, knocking him to the floor. Two of the fighters on either side of him leapt toward him and Brian grabbed one and sent him crashing into the other, then he sidestepped an attack and spun around and punched his attacker hard in the gut. The man doubled over and retched as everything he had eaten at the dinner came up and spilled onto the floor. Brian clubbed him in the head with his armored forearm and the fighter fell forward, landing on the mess he had made. The two fighters who had collided came at him again and Brian hit each of them, one after the other, his powerful fists connecting with their faces, knocking each of them out cold. A few more fighters had broken loose from the larger fray at the end of the hall and were now heading toward Brian. Jax hopped down from the table.

"You're going to have to draw that sword," he said. "Now come on, Brian, let's go."

"Where?" Brian asked.

"That way," Jax told him, pointing at the front of the hall where Cerric and his guests had exited.

"There are at least thirty soldiers guarding that door."

"More like fifty," Jax said, holding up his blade. "And they all have swords."

"Wonderful," Brian said, drawing his sword as he followed the thief toward the soldiers.

"We don't have to beat them all," Jax told him. "We just have to get past them and through that door."

"And then what?"

"Let's worry about that after we get out of here."

Jax ran toward the soldiers and attacked two at once, knocking them out of his way and Brian followed close behind, pushing aside several more. He saw Pike running toward them, along with several other fighters who appeared to have had the same idea of how to get out of the hall. They fought hard against the trained and well armored soldiers and Brian noticed that Jax moved must faster than he thought even possible, the thief's sword almost disappearing in the air, with every cut, thrust and parry. They were almost all the way through the soldiers when another group of them streamed through the doorway.

"What do we do now?" Brian asked.

"Right now, keep fighting!" Jax yelled.

*****

"How long do you intend to let it go on?" Calexis asked as she poured two cups of wine and handed one to Cerric.

"At least until there are none left without a sword," Cerric told her. "It wouldn't be fair to spare anyone, now would it? "

"I suppose not," Calexis said, taking a sip of her wine.

"I am pleased that Draxis has returned."

"Are you?" Calexis was skeptical.

"Of course," Cerric said with a grin. "He is an excellent fighter, and proved himself a worthy commander at Kandara."

"Then why do you not show your appreciation?"

"When he learns to show proper respect, I will show him my appreciation," Cerric said. "He is young and petulant, which I suppose is a function of youth, but he will soon learn his place. It will be good for him to work his way back to a proper command. For now, let him fight as a captain. I have no doubt he will distinguish himself in the war."

"Of course," Calexis said. "He is Draxis, a prince, born of power."

"That he is," Cerric replied. "I often wonder how it was that you brought yourself to mate with those Darga. I have heard that it has happened before, a half-breed child here and there, but never willingly. I have also heard they can be quite forceful."

"None of them compares with the power of a god," Calexis said. "And I have an appetite for power, as do you."

"It is true," Cerric said, sipping his wine. "I can almost feel the power growing in those who are fighting and winning right now. Fifty with blades of power against five hundred more, unarmed though they may be, but skilled nonetheless. When this fight is done, those left standing will be exceptional and they will lead my army into the elven forests and turn it and its people to ash and dust."

"Then let us enjoy this moment," Calexis suggested as she stepped closer to him, gently resting her hand on his side. She lifted her cup and touched it to his, then she took a sip from it. "A toast to your power and to the victory of your army."

Cerric sipped his wine, his piercing coal black eyes staring at her.

"It is my army now, is it?"

Calexis shrugged and looked up at him with half lidded eyes.

"I may defy you in the bedroom, but I know your power in the world," she said. "Of course it is your army."

"I am pleased to see you have finally come to understand the way of things," Cerric said. "Is it because Draxis has returned that you take a softer tack with me?"

"Draxis will learn how to please you. He will learn or he will suffer."

"And what about you?"

"Do I not know how to please you? Will you teach me?" Calexis slid her hand between his legs. "Perhaps I want to learn."

"You mock me," Cerric said, gripping her arm.

"Will you teach me a lesson, then?" Calexis stepped toward the bed. She tipped back her cup, drinking the rest of her wine in one swallow. "Come, show me your power. All this killing makes me hunger."

"You are lust incarnate," Cerric said as he followed her. "If there was such a goddess, you would be a high priestess."

"Can a god satisfy my lust?" Calexis asked as she got up onto the bed on her knees and began to unfasten his belt. "Your power is intoxicating."

"You cannot resist," Cerric said, smiling as he felt her lips upon him.

"It is so very hard to resist," Calexis whispered, pausing to look up at him. "I do try, but I succumb to you every time."

Cerric emptied his cup as she teased him for a moment then let her desire take over, pleasuring him more intensely than ever before. He let his empty cup fall to the floor and moved toward her, pressing hard against her as he knelt on the bed. Cerric reached down and pulled up the bottom of her black dress and found her more than ready for him. He grasped the delicately woven fabric and tore it from her as she continued with even greater enthusiasm. Cerric grasped one of her breasts in his hand and pushed her from him, onto her back and slid between her knees as she tore open his shirt. Her hands grasped his back and she pulled him into her, her sharp nails digging into his flesh as he delved deep inside her.

Calexis wrapped her legs around him as he pressed harder and harder, and she clawed at the bedcovers with her hands, pulling the rich fabric into a tousled mess around her. With every muscle and contraction she gripped him, urging him deeper all the while gasping at not only the pleasure that left her reeling but the overwhelming power that emanated from him. She arched her back and neck, unable to contain the toothy smile that crossed her face as she felt him twitch, and she tightened her body, gripping him hard and pulled him even deeper inside her with her legs. His powerful muscles began to shake as his body twitched again, and she felt the hard pulse as his essence suddenly spread inside her, over and over, deeper and deeper. Calexis gasped as her own pleasure overcame her and she could barely control herself, her body responding to him, coaxing even more from him. Finally, the pressure subsided and she lay back on the bed, reveling the sensation as she felt his seed take root within her. Calexis sighed and looked up at him, her legs still locked around the small of his back.

"Now that was a conquest," she said with a deep sigh.

"You have been conquered many times," Cerric said.

"Yes," Calexis replied. "And my walls do tremble at your coming approach, but now, I am the one who has conquered."

"You have?" Cerric chuckled.

"Oh yes," Calexis told him with a tired smile. "I most certainly have."

Cerric gasped when the dagger slammed into his stomach, its warm metal somehow like cold fingers inside of him. His eyes wide, he looked down at Calexis as she grasped the knife with both hands and pushed it deeper, holding him tightly with her legs. Cerric tried to push her away, but her strength was far greater than ever before, and he realized what kind of blade she had used and he stopped, closed his eyes then looked at her calmly.

"Do you think that will save you?" he asked.

"I can feel your power in me already," she said, laughing.

"Power." He shrugged. "What good is power without the knowledge to use it. You have used this weapon incorrectly and it will destroy you."

"You lie," she said. "I heard you tell those fighters how the swords work but I have already learned that secret. This dagger is the same, and your power is now mine."

"I lied to them," Cerric told her. "Now you will destroy everything, including yourself. You are a fool, Calexis."

"How am I a fool?"

"Without my power, the mages would become free, and so would half the army. They will turn on you as surely as you have turned on me. All that I have worked for, all of this will be for naught. And they will kill you, for the power of those blades will turn them mad and it will do the same to you."

"What's this?"

"Why do you think it was so difficult to find them?" Cerric asked, his voice deepening to a low, gravelly rumble. "Those weapons were hidden because nothing good can come of them." His voice changed again, still deep, but darker and rasping. "Enough! You may have gained some of my power, but my magic will die with me, unless you are willing to take the essence of the god within me."

Cerric's eyelids closed and his face fell slack and Calexis felt his body go limp as he began to lose consciousness. She slapped him in the face and he opened his eyes again.

"How can I take the essence of the god?" she asked.

"Why should I tell you?" Cerric replied, his voice as it usually was, though his tone was sullen, that of a defeated man. "You have killed me."

"Damn you," Calexis said, twisting the blade even harder.

A dark look crossed Cerric's face and all the light fled from the room, replaced by an ominous shadow coursing with energy that was darker still but somehow seemed to glow with a purplish hue, though it was not even a color.

"You are clever," he said, his voice, far deeper than his own, that echoed in the room. "Far more clever than that fool, Cerric."

Calexis stopped, transfixed by a fear that excited her.

"Who are you?" she asked, though she already knew.

"I am the god, the one whose power you seek."

"The one whose power I take," Calexis said.

The god laughed.

"You take but a sliver of power."

"I will take what I can get if it will make me greater than any other."

The god laughed again.

"There are others, far more powerful than you and they will see to your doom."

"What must I do to defeat them?" Calexis asked, her confidence beginning to waver.

"I will make you the same offer I made to this one. Let me come into you and I will show you power that you could never imagine. Even now, the mage priests make the final preparations for a spell that will gather even more power. You have seen the crystals they place throughout the city."

"Yes," Calexis said. "I have seen them. Cerric has been obsessed with what they are doing."

"Of course. His hunger for power is almost as great as your own. Do not think I have not seen it."

"You have been here all along, inside him?"

"That I have."

"And you would be in me and give me the same power?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"You have but to ask for it. Welcome me, and I will come."

"I will," Calexis said. "I do."

"Then feel my power flow into you."

Cerric's hands rose and gently touched either side of her head and Calexis felt a touch upon her mind. Even that slight sensation coursed energy through her and her breath caught as she felt her arousal piquing again.

"Yes, come into me," she said, reveling in the feeling of the power of the god as dark and powerful energy began to flow inside her.

The hands gripped her head more tightly now and Calexis felt the power start to rush, flooding through her entire being. Never before had she felt such ecstasy and she writhed in pleasure at it. The hands gripped her head tighter and her skull began to hurt, and Calexis barely noticed it as her thoughts tumbled around in her mind, awash with countless thoughts that were not her own. She felt a sharpness in her head, and blinked at the pain, then she realized that she was alone in a sea of darkness. The thoughts she had seen and felt suddenly crystallized within her own, then turned dark and malevolent, and she screamed, but no sound came from her lips.

She felt her body relax as Cerric's hands fell away, and she felt her arm lift and her hand push him from her, what seemed like barely a nudge that sent him flying against the wall next to the bed, where he fell and crumpled to a heap on the floor. She felt her own hands run over her body, touching herself in every place, then she felt her legs swing from the bed and her feet touch the cool, stone floor. Her feet moved as if by their own accord, padding across the room to stand in front of a tall mirror that leaned against the wall, and through eyes that were no longer her own, Calexis saw herself, standing, looking, smiling at her naked body, covered in the blood of the king she had killed, and she saw herself laugh. She looked in the mirror and the eyes of another stared back at her, and while her mouth curled into a sharp toothed grin and her body shook with laughter, and, beneath the laughter, Calexis screamed as she had never screamed before.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Draxis looked around at the bloody mess of the hall as the winners of Cerric's tourney hacked away mercilessly at those who had lost, and he decided he had killed enough. While it felt good to kill with the sword he had received, its power was no different than the axe he had taken from the Kandaran duke, who had been apparently unaware of the secret of its magic. Draxis had already killed hundreds with Boric's great axe, making himself far more powerful than he had let on. It was something Draxis was sure that Cerric had also done using a similar magic, making himself powerful enough to fool people into thinking he was some sort of god.

Now he would carry out his threat and kill Cerric the usurper, the foolish king who had so carelessly cast him aside, and with the weapon he had given him, he would take his power. Draxis walked away from the fight, trudging across sticky, wet floors and stepping over the limbs and bodies of the fallen and he threw off his cloak. Grayish black leathery wings opened wide behind him and he leapt into the air. Several of the fighters below stopped and stared as Draxis flew up above them in the great hall and, with a few beats of his wings, he made it to an upper balcony and landed atop the ornate, wooden rail, then he tucked his wings together and disappeared through the doors at the far end.

Below, Jax and Brian, along with Pike and several other fighters, battled the soldiers, trying to get to the door. They had fought their way through most of the soldiers only to have more of them enter the hall, and it seemed they were coming with no end. Brian heard the voices whispering to him in his thoughts, urging him to use their power. He accepted their gift and was amazed when his strength not only returned but was far greater than it had been, and he began to fight even harder than before.

"You've got another wind," Jax commented as he fended off one of the soldiers.

"It's the voices," Brian told him as he cut down another soldier "They give me strength through my armor. I feel like I could fight ten at a time."

"Well, in that case, I suppose there's no need to hold back," Jax said, and he began to cut a path through the soldiers, moving with speed and power that seemed almost impossible. Brian wondered how the thief could have such ability on his own, but he set aside his questions and focused on the battle, for it seemed they were almost through the worst of it.

"Pike," Brian yelled to the young Xallan. "Follow us!"

"Right," Pike said. "Lead the way!"

They cut a swath through the soldiers and made it to the door, to find it barred from the other side. Pike and Jax fended off the soldiers as Brian pounded on the heavy wood, but it would not budge. He heard the voices whisper to him, but they were faint and he was not sure exactly what they were trying to say, then he felt his arms and legs grow stronger and his body felt like it was heavier somehow. "Splinters," said the voices and Brian felt the urge to smash the door with his fist. Deciding it was no time to wonder what the voices meant, he went with the feeling and swung at the door. The wood crashed outward as the door shattered to pieces and Brian was almost stunned by the force with which it broke.

"Come on," he yelled to Jax and Pike and he raised his sword and ran through the broken door.

In the corridor, outside the banquet hall, Brian found only two soldiers, who had been thrown by the impact of the door exploding to pieces. He knocked away their weapons, then he knocked out one of them and grabbed the other by the collar and picked him up off the ground.

"How many more?" he growled.

"How many what?" asked the soldier, clearly afraid of him.

"How many more soldiers is Cerric sending to this hall?"

"None," the man replied. "That was the last. He said to wait until the fighting was over and then send for him."

"That's it?"

"Those are our orders."

Brian dropped the soldier then he punched him in the head, knocking him flat to the ground.

"That's quite the punch you've got there," Jax said as he looked around the corridor and ran over to a large armoire standing against the nearby wall.

"It's the voices," Brian said, looking down at the soldier he had just hit, worried that he might have done more damage than he had intended. Then he looked over at Jax. "How do you fight like that? You move faster than should be possible."

Jax held up his sword.

"This isn't the first time I've used one of these blades," he said. "I might have stolen a few tricks from those I faced over the years."

"You really are a thief," Brian said.

"In more ways than one, I suppose," Jax replied and he tapped the bureau. "Help me with this in front of that door and then let's out of here."

Brian walked over and picked up the heavy, wooden armoire and dropped it in front of the doorway as several soldiers came running after them. They yelled and shoved their swords through the gaps but they could not get past.

"All right, Jack said. "Let's go."

"I want to find Cerric," Pike said. "You convinced me not to kill him, but after what he just did, I'm changing my mind again."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jax said. "You'll just get yourself killed, though I do think we should reconsider our little plan to infiltrate Cerric's army. The way he runs things, I don't think it would be very safe for very long, for anyone."

"So, what?" Brian asked. "We should just leave?"

"Um, yes," Jax said. "That's what we should do. Head back to White Falls and let Fergus know what's going on. I'm starting to think we might just have to organize a party to go help Kaleb directly. Pike, you should go there too. It's on the way back to the Xallan lands, but you'll have to find your own way there unless Brian wants to go with you."

"What about you?" Brian asked.

"I have some things to do," Jax said. "Let's get our weapons and then get out of this palace as quickly as possible. I doubt that closet will hold for very long."

As they hurried down the corridor, they felt the palace shake almost as though it was hit by a cannon or some kind of thunder, except the deep noise was a kind of dead, dull sound. They made their way to the palace kitchens where several cooks and palace servings staff were still cleaning up after having cooked for the feast. When they saw the three blood covered fighters enter, several of them turned and ran, while one of the cooks leveled a rolling pin at them.

"You fighters are not to be in the kitchen, especially in such a mess," he said. "If you are lost, the banquet hall is back down that hallway."

"Don't mind us," Jax said as he picked up a sugar roll from a large tray that was sitting out and stuffed it into his mouth. "Just popped in for a snack and to pick up a few things."

He reached in behind a tall shelf and pulled out Brian's axes and a leather roll of daggers, as well as the sword he had carried. He tossed the sword and scabbard to the cook.

"You might need that," Jax told him. "There are a bunch of really angry captains in Cerric's new army likely to come this way and they're probably going to kill everyone in the palace. Maybe it's just better to bar the door."

They exited the kitchen to a servant's corridor, then Jax turned to Brian and Pike.

"This is where we part ways," he said. "You should both get out of the city since Cerric's soldiers will recognize you and they will probably wonder if you don't show up at the Academy in the morning. Pike, if you'd like to join us at White Falls, you can meet some other lads who might become Rangers one day. Mind you, the keep is surrounded by Xallan soldiers at the moment, but it's as safe a place as any if you can get inside, and Brian can help you with that. Brian, tell Fergus to put together a small force to travel to the elven lands. I will meet you back at White Falls once I'm finished my business here."

Jax smiled, clapped both of them on the shoulders, then he took off down the hall.

"Did you hear all of what he just said?" Pike asked.

"I did," Brian told him. "What part did you miss?"

"I didn't miss any of it," Pike replied. "I just don't see why Jax thinks he can tell us what to do."

"Well, he is sort of the leader at White Falls," Brian said. "Him and Fergus are, since Lord Kaleb is away in the elven lands, fighting against Cerric."

"That's interesting and such, Brian, but it's got nothing to do with me," Pike said.

"He's also a Ranger, and you're one too, right?"

"And so are you, says Jax," Pike replied. "That doesn't mean we have to do what he says. I'm going to kill Cerric, like I planned."

"Really? But what about the stories of him being strong enough to kill a dragon? And he's probably got lots of guards."

"Brian, I don't know if you noticed, but I'm pretty good at getting in and out of places and managing to land on my feet," Pike said.

"I noticed," Brian said. "That clumsy act of yours is really good."

"I'm glad you like it, but it isn't my only act. I learned a lot of things in Xalla when I trained to be a Ranger."

"When did you become one?" Brian asked.

"When I was born," Pike told him. "I've been training my whole life."

"You are determined to kill Cerric, then?"

"I intend to try," Pike said.

"And how do you plan to escape after?" Brian asked.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead," Pike told him. "If I had more time, I would have learned more about the halls and rooms of this palace and figured things out better."

"I know a secret way out," Brian told him. "I can show it to you if you want."

"Why don't you come with me," Pike said. "You can stand guard while I kill Cerric and then we can escape using your way out."

They saw a group of fighters fighting with several soldiers further down the hall.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," Brian said.

"Look," Pike said, pointing at the ongoing skirmish. "Things are chaotic right now so it's the best chance. I'm going whether you come or not, and you don't have to do anything except wait for me."

"All right," Brian said. "But where do we find Cerric?"

"That I do know," Pike said, turning and heading down the corridor away from the fighting. "Come on, this way."

*****

Draxis walked down the wide corridor toward the royal apartments and he saw two soldiers standing guard outside the doors. They were both under the death spell that Cerric and his mage priests had cast at Kandara and Draxis could smell the faint stink of their slowly rotting flesh. Given their obvious loyalty to the king, he expected them to cause trouble for him, but they snapped to attention at his approach, their dead eyes facing forward and not even daring to look at him.

Draxis pushed open the doors to the royal chambers and made his way through the outer sitting room, which was empty, and he saw that the door to the bedroom had been left open a crack. As much as it repulsed him that his mother might be in congress with the despicable king, he wondered if it might prove useful to catch him off guard. Draxis could not care less about killing Cerric in an honorable fashion, but he was surprised by what he saw when he slowly pushed open the door.

Cerric sat slumped against the wall next to the enormous, royal bed with his shirt open and his pants around one ankle, and with a dagger jutting from his gut as a pool of dark blood spread around him. Calexis stood naked before a tall mirror, holding up a long, elegant black dress that glimmered with fine silver thread that had been woven into it. She turned and smiled at her son as he entered the room.

"Draxis!" she said. "Your timing is impeccable. Which do you prefer, the black one or this red one?" She picked up another dress from the large sitting chair next to the mirror, its fabric a crimson color that shimmered both black and red, much like freshly spilt blood.

"They are both very elegant, mother," Draxis said, glancing over at Cerric. "I take it you are in a good mood, and I can see why."

"Perhaps the red one," she said as she put down the black dress and picked up the other one. She turned and looked past the bed to where Cerric sat, still bleeding. "Yes, the opportunity finally presented itself. It turns out that patience does have its virtues."

Draxis walked over to where Cerric sat and noticed the jewel at the end of the dagger's hilt and he realized that his mother had done exactly what he had planned to do, and he had no doubt that she would now be far more powerful. With a closer look, he noticed that Cerric was not entirely dead, and the jewel at the end of dagger seemed to glow and pulse with a faint light. Out of idle curiosity he reached down toward it.

"Do not touch that," Calexis said.

"It is one of these weapons of power," Draxis said. "It seems that Cerric still lives."

"Yes, it is, and yes he does," she said. "If that dagger is removed, Cerric will die."

"Why not kill him and be done with it?" Draxis asked.

"I want him to suffer," Calexis said. "I want him to suffer for his arrogance, for daring to make himself greater than I, for his thoughtless actions, and the disrespect he has shown to me and to you, Draxis."

"That dagger must never be touched or be removed from Cerric's corpse, for it holds him, bound in its power, just before point of death, when the pain is at its greatest. We will arrange for him to be entombed with it for all eternity."

"A fitting fate for a fool," Draxis said and he reached down and picked up Cerric's sword belt and slipped his blade a few inches from its scabbard then slammed it home once again. "These weapons offer great power."

"They do," Calexis said as she slipped into the crimson dress and picked up a pair of tight fitting, heeled leather boots. "I wonder how our fighters are enjoying their newfound power."

"When I left it was little more than a slaughter."

"Good. It is best that they blood themselves before the real battle begins."

"The soldiers set to guarding the hall were having trouble keeping them at bay," Draxis told her. "I would not be surprised if some of them were to get into the palace, and a number of them were angry about having to fight. They could come seeking revenge."

"Let them come," Calexis said and she held out her hand toward the sword Draxis had taken. He handed it to her and she drew the blade, and swung it in a few arcs, testing its balance and holding it up toward the mirror. "I fear them not, especially with you at my side." She turned and grinned at him, then she slid the sword back into its scabbard. "I suppose we should deal with them. It would not do to have them running loose in the palace, and it is time they met their new Lord General, who will lead them against elvenkind."

"Then I will command the army?"

"Of course, my son," Calexis replied. "You are Prince Draxis, son of Calexis, Empress of three kingdoms. It is only fitting that you should lead."

"He will destroy you," spluttered a voice and they both turned and saw Cerric sitting with his eyes open and blood dripping from his lips.

"Nonsense," Calexis said as she strode toward him. "Draxis would never hurt his own mother." Calexis placed the heel of her boot between Cerric's legs and bent down and grabbed him by the hair. "Your failings are your own, Cerric, and you will have plenty of time to reflect on that."

"You could never silence me," he said, gritting his teeth.

"Shall I cut out your tongue?" Calexis asked and she slapped him across the face, leaving him reeling and barely conscious. "Perhaps I should."

There was a light knock at the outer door and Calexis turned, her eyes taking on a faraway look for a moment.

"What is it?" Draxis asked.

"It seems that the banquet has finished," she said, stepping away from Cerric. "Let us greet your new captains."

"And what of him?"

"He can do nothing," she said. "We will deal with him later. Come."

Calexis strode from the room and Draxis followed.

"One moment," he said before they reached the door and he walked over to the window, then leaned outside and retrieved his axe from where he had hung it earlier. "I have come to prefer this weapon, and it is my prize from Kandara, where I defeated the Duke."

"And a fearsome weapon it is," Calexis said as they exited the apartments. Once they were through the door, Calexis turned to the guards. "Cerric rests. No one is to enter. Is that understood?"

"Yes Empress," they said in unison, each of them stamping a foot as they snapped to attention.

From a nearby alcove, Pike and Brian watched as Calexis and her son Draxis walked away from the door to the royal apartments.

"How do we get past the guards?" Brian whispered.

"That part is easy," Pike said. "Watch."

Pike hung his sword loosely alongside his leg and slipped out of the alcove, and shuffled down the hall, walking clumsily like he had in his fights. Brian watched as Pike suddenly tripped and fell right in front of the two guards, who looked down at him, curiously.

"You are not permitted to be here," one of them said.

"Oh," Pike said as he pushed himself up from the floor. "I got lost on the way to the pots."

Suddenly, the sounds of steel cutting through chainmail rang through the hallway as Pike shoved his sword into one of the guards, a killing blow in the chest. But, instead of falling, the guard reached out and grabbed Pike's sword and pulled it through himself then grabbed Pike by the collar. Brian was shocked to see the guard begin to age, as though his face was drying up like a piece of meat left out in the noonday sun. He leapt from the alcove as the other guard moved toward Pike, but then the hallway flashed with a strange purplish light and Brian was knocked backward.

As the first guard shriveled to skin and bones with the sword still lodged between his ribs, the second one grabbed Pike by his head and stared at him with his pale, glowing eyes.

"It seems we have caught a mouse," Brian heard him say in a strange voice that sounded like the queen, who had just been there a few moments ago.

There was another flash, then the guard released Pike, and turned to stare down the hallway in Brian's direction as he got up from the floor. Brian felt a chill run down his spine when he saw three pairs of eerie, glowing eyes staring at him and his stomach turned when he saw that the third set belonged to Pike, who pulled his sword from the guard.

"There is another one, there," Pike said, pointing his sword at Brian.

Brian raised his axes and ran toward them, his first blow cutting the second guard while his second attack was blocked by Pike.

"What are you doing, Pike?" Brian asked as his Xallan friend pressed him back.

"I don't know, Brian," Pike said, and Brian saw the frightened look on his friend's face. "I can't stop."

"Another little mouse," said the shriveled guard, voice that again sounded like Calexis, only dryer and rasping from the skeletal throat. "Traitors in our midst."

"She is in my head!" Pike yelled as he attacked Brian, his sword whirling and moving expertly. "She wants to know things. Make it stop!"

Brian blocked his attacks as the guards joined in and drove him down the hallway.

"What do you mean she is in your head?" Brian asked Pike.

The second guard smiled.

"He fights me," Calexis said through his mouth. "It is impressive for one with no power."

"Stop!" Pike yelled. "You have to make it stop, Brian! She wants to know things."

"How?" Brian asked as he blocked Pike's sword and knocked aside another attack from one of the guards.

"Kill me, Brian," Pike said. "You have to kill me."

"No, Pike," Brian said. "I'm not going to kill you."

"She will find out about the others, about the rest," he said, grimacing as though he was in terrible pain. Pike yelled as he knocked aside the swords of the guards then he lowered his blade. "Do it now, quickly. I can't stop her."

"I don't know what to do," Brian said.

"Kill me," Pike said. "Kill me now or everything is lost."

"No!" Brian said, and he did the only thing he could think of and swung his fist at him. Pike spun around from the force of the blow and fell to the floor, unconscious, and Brian leapt at the soldiers, fighting them as hard as he could, but every time he wounded them, they kept on attacking.

*****

"What is it?" Draxis asked, noticing the faraway look in Calexis' eyes as they neared the entrance to the banquet hall, stepping over several fallen soldiers.

"A few little mice, sneaking around the palace," she said. "They should not be a problem, though they are somewhat interesting."

"Would you like me to investigate?"

"No," Calexis told him. "I will send more guards. Let us greet your new captains."

Inside the hall, on the other side of wall of soldiers, who numbered several hundred strong, stood two dozen fighters, most of them holding more than one sword, and behind them the banquet hall was a scene of carnage as bloody as a field of battle.

"Captains!" Calexis said, her voice echoing with power in the great hall. "I see that some of you have given yourself promotions."

"Would you like us to kill more?" one of them asked and Calexis tisked.

"Not this night," she said. "At first light you will assemble at the Academy grounds and receive your commissions, along with a purse of gold for each and every one of you."

"What if we don't want to be in the army?" another one asked. "Can we claim our prizes and leave?"

"Of course," Calexis said. "You are free to go." The wide, wooden doors at the far end of the banquet hall opened. "Celebrate your good fortune this night. You are the champions of Maramyr!"

The fighters turned and slowly they began to make their way across the bloodied floor, several of them glancing over their shoulders as they filed out of the hall.

"Some of them do not seem pleased," Draxis commented.

"They did not expect to have to fight to receive their rewards," Calexis said.

"Do you think they will join the ranks or will they take their gold and leave?"

"They will all fight in the war," Calexis said.

"How can you be sure of this?"

"The mage priests are near to completing a spell they have been working on for some time, a similar magic to the one that was cast upon our soldiers at Kandara and it will ensure that all of them will remain loyal to the throne."

"I see," Draxis said, remembering how the soldiers were ensorcelled. "This magic will make them all into dead things?"

"Not quite," Calexis said. "That spell was merely a test. The true power of the priesthood will be revealed this night."

"Was this magic not Cerric's?" Draxis asked.

"No," Calexis said with a laugh. "Cerric could not even imagine such a spell. This power will secure my rule over all the people of this city, and I will become their god."

"It seems you have taken Cerric's delusions along with his power," Draxis said and Calexis turned and stared at him, her eyes flashing with black fire.

"Speak no blasphemy, Draxis," she said. "I have the power to destroy this entire land, and all will worship me or perish."

"As you command," Draxis said with a nod and Calexis' expression shifted to something less ominous.

"Good," she said. "Now go out among them and see to it that none of them leave the city before dawn."

"Of course, as you command," he said again, and strode forward.

"Make way for Lord Draxis," Calexis said, her voice rolling with power through the banquet hall and echoing from every surface.

The soldiers parted as Draxis walked between them, many of them turning and nodding at him, and Draxis saw that their eyes were pale and looked dead, even though they stood and moved as though they were alive. He noticed that a number of them also bore wounds that should have killed them, but they barely bled and did not seem to even notice the deep cuts and gashes. Draxis wondered about the spell, and how his mother seemed to be carrying forward with Cerric's plan, without even skipping a step, and he also thought it strange that she would refer to herself as a god, and not a goddess. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Calexis had already left the hall.

*****

Brian dragged Pike's unconscious body over to the alcove and then he stepped over the two guards that lay dismembered on the floor of the corridor and walked up to the door of the royal apartments. It was strange that Cerric had not come out of the room with all the noise just outside the door, and Brian felt strangely curious to find out why. He felt almost the same sensation he did when the voices would speak to him, and he suspected that they might be encouraging him to look behind the door so he opened it, then walked inside and found the room empty.

Brian noticed a second doorway at the far end of the room and he caught a glimpse of large bed with rich looking covers in a mess upon it through the open door. As quietly as he could, he walked toward it and peeked inside. At first, he thought the room was empty, but then his eyes noticed the figure of the king, barely clothed and sitting in a pool of blood on the floor with what looked like the handle of a dagger sticking from his stomach. Brian stepped into the room, careful not to make any noise, and he jumped when Cerric's head tilted up and the king stared at him.

"Who are you?" Cerric rasped as Brian tentatively walked toward him.

"Me?" Brian shrugged. "I'm nobody."

"Nobody does not simply walk into the king's bedchamber." He coughed, spitting up more blood.

"I am nobody important," Brian said.

"You have the scent of a borderman," he said, his voice suddenly becoming deeper.

"You know about the bordermen?"

"An old line from a previous age, but it is not important," he said. "We have little time and I would beg a mercy from you."

"Why would I show you mercy?" Brian asked, then he frowned at the dying king. "What is it that you want?"

"Pull this dagger from me," he said.

"That is all?"

"I would ask more, but I doubt you would oblige me, under the circumstances."

No matter what he thought of Cerric, refusing to pull a dagger from an obviously dying man would be coldhearted, so he switched both of his axes to one hand and crouched down in front of him. Brian reached out and grasped the hilt of the dagger. As soon as he touched it, he felt a strange sensation in his arms, just like when his armor gave him strength. A little surprised by it, Brian did not notice Cerric's hand reaching up from the floor and touching the side of his head.

"Stick the dagger back in," a voice said, the same deep voice that had come from Cerric's mouth. "Do it quickly, boy."

Brian felt the urge to do as the voice said, but he was not sure.

"He is returning," said the voice. "You must retreat from this place at once."

"Who are you?" Brian asked, disoriented and confused. "You don't sound like the voices of the keep."

"Ah, the defenders," said the voice. "I am not one of them, but it appears that you have accepted their oath. I suppose it does not matter. Of more importance, is that you replace that dagger in that corpse and leave this room before the queen returns."

"She is coming back?"

"Yes, and you must hurry."

"Stick it back in?" Brian asked, finding it a strange request.

"Do it," the voice told him. "It is a corpse."

"Then why would I stab a corpse?" Brian asked.

"Because you do not want anyone to know that you were here," the voice said. Brian could sense irritation behind the words and now he understood why.

"Right," he said and he stuck the dagger back into Cerric's stomach.

"Very good, now move," rumbled the voice.

Brian got up and ran from the room, then he made his way out of the door, not noticing the trail of bloody footprints he left behind him, which slowly faded into the stone floor, as though they had never been. In a hurry, Brian ran down the corridor to the alcove where he had left Pike, then he stuffed his axes into the straps on his armor and crouched down next to him.

"There is no time. You must leave him," said the voice.

"No, I won't leave him here," Brian said in his thoughts, the same way he talked to the voices of the keep.

"He is tainted by the shadow. He will betray you."

"He is a friend and ally. I am not leaving him." Brian reached down and picked up Pike's unconscious body and threw him over his shoulder.

"Fine," said the voice. "But you must hurry."

"I am hurrying," Brian said as he carried Pike down the corridor, moving as quickly and as quietly as he could.

"Take the stairs on the left at the end of this passage," the voice said.

"Where will that go?" Brian asked.

"It is the way to the dungeon. That is where you want to go, is it not?"

"Yes," Brian replied. "How do you know that?"

"I can hear your thoughts," said the voice.

"Who are you?"

"I am Kroma."

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Calexis stepped over the remains of the guards, who lay outside the royal apartment and searched the corridor for any sign of the two young fighters who had managed to escape. The one who had fallen under her control was still unconscious, but she could feel him somewhere in the palace, his thoughts drifting and murky, telling her very little. Whatever the case, it seemed that the other fighter had run off after rescuing his friend, but Calexis was not concerned. Even though she knew there was nowhere either of them could go, and despite the fact that soon, both of them would fall under her spell, it still irritated her that they had overpowered her guards.

It only added to her aggravation that Cerric now lay dead in the room, his body somehow having expired, the last of his essence being absorbed into the dagger, which she had taken. Calexis was surprised when she pulled it from him, feeling how weak the power was that flowed into her. Given how irritating the voices had been, always at the back of her thoughts with Cerric's personality still strong enough to influence her, she had thought there would be more energy left in his body, but she supposed that she had taken most of it when she had stabbed him, before she had become Calexis.

She smiled as she walked down the corridor, enjoying the feeling of the Xallan queen's sensuous form, as well as the combination of skin and scales from her experiments with the Darga. Her innate power was different as well, far deeper and more visceral than expected, and far greater than the trickle of power Cerric had. This body had far greater potential, and she amused herself with many thoughts of things she could do as she made her way down through the palace toward the dungeons.

Calexis opened the door to the large room where she kept the Kandaran and was pleased to see that he had transformed a little more, and that he was still conveniently chained in place. He turned and stared at her with his empty eye sockets, sniffing the air as she walked toward him.

"Who are you?" Elric growled. "I know your scent, but I cannot see who you are."

"Cerric never did formally introduce us before he locked you away in here," Calexis said.

"Cerric's lack of social graces is the least of his failings," Elric said.

"That is more true than you know," she said, tracing a finger across his muscled chest that was still partly skin, while the rest of him had become reptilian. "I am Calexis, and you are Elric Akandra, son of Eric and briefly King of Kandara."

"I am still the rightful King of Kandara," Elric said.

"Oh, no," Calexis told him, letting her hand come to rest on his stomach. "That throne belongs to me now, though Duke Mirdel sits in it for the moment and I understand he is doing an excellent job bringing order to the land."

"Cerric tells me this Duke Mirdel torments my people."

"Cerric has been cruel to you, hasn't he?" she said, as she reached up and touched his cheek, running the top of her finger along his scaled jaw line while her other hand inched lower toward the waistline of his tattered trousers.

"He has," Elric said, his tongue flicking out of his mouth as she slowly caressed his jaw.

"Why have you let him treat you so poorly?" She teased her fingers under he rope tied around his waistline.

"What choice do I have?" Elric asked, his breaths coming shorter and faster. "He keeps me here."

"That is hardly fitting treatment for a noble guest, a king even," she said, laying the palm of her hand against his angular cheek and sliding her other beneath his waist.

Elric began to twitch, his face leaning against her hand as she stroked him.

"No, it is not," he said.

"Is this better?" she asked, her voice a seductive whisper.

"Yes," Elric said.

Calexis sunk her claws into him hard and deep and Elric screamed and roared, his fanged mouth snapping at her other hand as she snatched it away from his face. She dug in even harder and he railed at the chains that held him, then she let go, pulling her hand away, her nails reddish black with the blood she had drawn. Calexis licked one of her fingers, tasting his blood and recognized his reptilian taste, so similar to the Darga, but far more powerful, and she smiled as his body transformed even further into the dragonform she knew was in him.

"You foul wench!" Elric yelled as his screams subsided. "You are just as foul as Cerric, worse! "

"What?" Calexis asked, innocently. "You don't enjoy being teased?"

"No! I do not!" Elric yelled.

"Oh, come now," she said. "Let me enjoy a little amusement."

Calexis pulled the dagger from the sheath strapped to her upper thigh and took off the belt and scabbard from her shoulder that held the jeweled sword. She set the sword aside and, with the dagger in her hand, she climbed atop the young Kandaran, grinning to herself as she felt him flinch beneath her. Slowly, she traced her dagger up from his stomach to his neck and over his sharp, scaled chin, as she let her lower body press down on him.

"What are you doing?" Elric rasped.

"I am just looking at you," she said as she shifted her weight, feeling him respond beneath her. "You are very interesting to look at. Fascinating."

"I am a monster," he said. "You might as well kill me."

"No, Elric," she said, sliding down a little and up again. "I think you are beautiful. You are powerful and dangerous. You are no monster. You are a dragon, Elric. That is how you protect your people, by becoming powerful. Is there anything as powerful as a dragon?"

"I don't know," Elric said, his breaths growing short as she pressed harder against him, even though he felt the sharp tip of her blade tracing the contours of his face. "I don't want to be a monster."

"Why do you think that?" she asked. "Why do you say such a thing?'

"I don't know," he said. "It was dreams."

"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"

"Dreams of monsters," he said. "My brother and I both dreamed of monsters. We dreamed we hurt people."

"Childish dreams," Calexis said as she leaned in and kissed his chest, just out of reach of his powerful jaws. "You shouldn't be afraid of such things, not when you have such potential for such power."

"I don't want that power," Elric said.

"Are you afraid, Elric?" Calexis gently poked the tip of her dagger under the edge of one of his scales.

"No."

"I think you are," she said. "It is the only thing that stops you from escaping from this place and saving your people. It is your fear that keeps you here. You are so afraid."

"I am not afraid," Elric said. "I know what Cerric wants and I won't give it to him."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"He wants to steal my power. I heard him say so."

Calexis stopped moving for a moment, distracted by the realization that Elric may have heard the other voices in Cerric's mind, a sure sign that he had come into more his dragon power. She moved again, keeping a steady rhythm, hoping he had not noticed, and she made sure to guard her thoughts carefully.

"When did he say such a thing?"

"He argues with people," he said.

"Cerric has been very difficult, hasn't he?"

"Yes."

"Well, you don't have to worry about him anymore."

"No?"

"No."

"Where is he?"

"He is dead."

"Truly?"

"Very much so. I made sure of it myself."

"Cerric is dead," Elric said. "Will you let me go free?"

"Only if you show me your true power," Calexis told him. "I want to see a dragon, a true noble of Kandara, like in the legends of old."

"I don't want to," Elric said.

"Come now," Calexis said. "If it pleases me, I might let you kill Duke Mirdel. Perhaps you could rule Kandara like before, so long as you promise to obey my will."

"You would do this?"

"Cerric was a fool and a brute. I can be cruel, but I am not without sense. If you swear loyalty to me, then I will free you and your people, but you must show me your true power."

"I don't know if I can," Elric told her.

"I can reward you in other ways as well," Calexis said, putting a little more pressure on him. "Show me your power, Elric. Prove to me that you are worthy to be a king."

Elric let out a deep, rasping roar, his frustration unbearable, and Calexis felt his body begin to change beneath her and excitement flushed through her own body. She knew she had an appetite for pleasures of the flesh but was impressed at how overwhelming such impulses could be, and she wondered whether her form, which had successfully mated with the Darga could do the same with a dragon. Unfortunately, Elric would serve a different purpose, but perhaps she could find the younger brother, and make him her pet. He shifted and changed, growing larger and even more reptilian. His fangs became longer and the horns on his head grew in length as well. Elric was far more of a dragon than his uncle had been, but nothing like his father or his brother. Calexis could tell that he had reached his limit and she sighed. It would have to do.

"Very impressive, Elric," she said.

"Will you let me go free?"

"Yes," she told him. "I will free you now."

"Thank you," Elric said.

"It will only take a moment," she said.

Calexis laid the dagger upon his chest and placed her hand atop it, then she flooded herself with power and began to draw his essence from him, reveling in the strange and powerful feeling of it as his being combined with her own.

"What are you doing?" he asked. "It feels cold."

"I must make sure you won't betray me," she said. "Do not worry. I will only hurt a little."

"What are you doing?" Elric asked again, his voice panicked.

"Quiet, Elric," she said. "It is easier if you don't fight it."

"No. Stop."

He began to struggle, writhing underneath her and she grabbed his throat with her free hand, her grip like the irons that bound him, and she pinned him against the platform on which he law. Calexis closed her eyes and focused her power as she felt his essence begin to fight her, trying to resist, but she already had most of him and she hungrily pulled it into her, leaving him with almost nothing as the magic dissipated. She looked down at him and saw a very different creature, weak and frail, its muscles shriveled and skin sagging from its frame of bones.

"That wasn't very nice, Elric," she said, irritated that he had resisted her at the end. Still, she had taken almost all of him, leaving only the last few dregs.

"What have you done to me?" he croaked.

"I have set you free," she said as she swung her leg overtop of him and stepped down from the platform, feeling her body shake and tremble as his essence coursed through her. "Never will you have to fear the monster."

"Kill me, please," he said.

"Oh no," Calexis said. "I think I will keep you here. I may have use for you yet, but you really should rest. You have done well."

Elric opened his mouth and let out a moan. He coughed and moaned again and Calexis shook her head in disgust.

"If you are going to weep, then I will leave you to it," she said, then she leaned in and kissed his cheek and laughed as her teeth began to grow longer and her body began to change, becoming reptilian. "Goodbye Elric."

Calexis turned and left the room, laughing at his fading moans as she made her way back up the stone stairway to the palace. As she reached the top of the stairs, she felt something strange deep inside of her and her stomach turned. Calexis staggered and fell to the floor, as her body began to convulse as though something was crawling inside of her.

The soldiers who stood guard nearby rushed toward her, but Calexis held up her hand and hissed at them through her fanged teeth and she took control of their minds and sent them away, to stand guard at the far end of the hall, with their backs to her. Her stomach contracted again and she rolled onto her back, clawing at her abdomen, tearing the crimson fabric she wore to shreds.

"Get out of me," she growled, her voice low and guttural. She cried out as something sharp moved inside of her and then Calexis screamed as she bled onto the stone floor.

Like rats scurrying from a nest, dozens of small, lizard like creatures clawed their way from her. They tumbled over each other then found their footing and ran down the nearby stairs as Calexis growled, hissed and screamed again, her voice pitching both high and low in panicked agony and visceral anger. Finally, the last of the creatures left her, shook itself off and was about to run after the others when Calexis sat up on her elbow and snatched it with her clawed hand. She held up the creature, inspecting at it closely with her eyes that had become even more reptilian as her body continued to change. It struggled against her grip, its tiny, lizard face hissing at her, bearing its fangs and spitting. Calexis hissed back at the creature, then she threw it against the wall. The creature spun in the air and landed against the wall on all fours, then it opened up a pair of small, leathery wings then leapt down to the floor, gliding through the air, and landed on the floor. It turned, looked at Calexis and hissed, then it bounded away, back down toward the dungeon.

Calexis let herself lay back to the floor and drew her knees together. She closed her eyes and ran her clawed hands down to her stomach and used her power to learn what had happened to her. A wide, toothy smile grew between her lips and she began to laugh in ecstasy at her discovery. She could feel the guards' nervousness, as she rose to her feet and gathered the front of her dress back together, then walked toward them. She released them from her control and they turned to look at their queen.

"You," she said to one of them. "Send word to the kitchens to send food to my chambers. Have them send plenty of meat, preferably venison or something wild. And leave it raw."

"Yes your highness," he said, nodding briefly before he ran off down the hall.

As she walked past the rest of the guards, a mage appeared.

"Your highness," he said. "The preparations at the temple are nearly complete. We thought you would already know, as you know all things, but it seems there has been some confusion among our ranks."

"Then let us clear up that confusion," Calexis said and she reached out with her power and touched the minds of every mage and soldier under her spell, reaffirming their bond, her control, and their devotion to she, who was become the one god.

*****

Brian set Pike down on the remains of a crumbling stone bench among the vines and leaves by the ancient shrine and he checked the scrap of cloth that was tied around the Xallan's eyes then sat next to him. He could tell that Pike was starting to come to and he was not sure what to do about it if he was still under Calexis' spell.

"There may be a way to release him from the dark spell," Kroma said.

"Truly?" Brian said. "How?"

"This is a shrine to Mara. Perhaps the goddess would grant a favor. Come, let us discover if my sister still rules the waters."

Brian rose from the bench and walked over to the remains of the shrine and the trickle of water that bubbled up from the earth, the source of the stream that ran toward the vast lake that, like the city that loomed above them, bore the goddess' name. He crouched down and dipped his fingertips in the water and touched it to his forehead, then he felt something, like the cool, clear feeling of a cold drink of water, spreading through him.

"Mara," Kroma's voice rumbled in Brian's thoughts.

"Kroma?" a woman's voice replied.

"Yes, it is I."

"Where have you been?"

"I should ask the same of you."

"I have been here, keeping out of the affairs of the world as we agreed."

"There is no point in debating that," Kroma said, though Brian could tell that he was irritated. "The shadow is returned and causes much trouble, once again."

"I am aware of this," she replied. "You still have not answered my question. Where have you been?"

"Trapped, inside our brother. He has taken much of my power, but I have managed to escape him, with some help. What of the others?"

"Ayra has returned, but in a new form, so in a sense she is no longer as you knew her, but she is very much like mother."

"And our father? Kenra attempted to do the same to him as to me, but only managed to take a small portion of his power. I sense him in the world, but his power is different."

"Something has happened to him, but I cannot tell what, for he went to a place with little water, and I have been focused elsewhere."

"That is not like you."

"I have stayed out of the world, brother. I am different now, and I no longer live as the goddess, Mara."

"What of the world?"

"What of it, brother?"

"Who is to oversee it?"

"What need is there?"

"We must stop the shadow."

"Of course, brother. Of that, there is no doubt."

"Then why do you stay away? Your shrine is nearly crumbled to dust."

"I have no need of a shrine."

"I have need of your shrine."

"What do you need?"

"There is a young fellow, ensorcelled by the dark god and touched by the shadow. Is it within your power to cleanse him?"

"How long has it been since the dark magic touched him?"

"Not long."

"It may be possible. Bring him to me."

Brian walked over to the bench and picked up Pike and brought him to the bubbling water and laid him down beside it. He stood back when the water rose up from the ground and took the shape of a woman, entirely made of water, but a clearly a woman. She knelt down over Pike and touched her watery fingers to his forehead.

"He fights it," she said. "That is useful. I will try to remove the shadow from him."

Water pressed hard against Pike's forehead, flowing from her fingers, pushing hard against his skin and Pike groaned as though he was in pain. Brian stepped back when he saw a thick, dark liquid ooze from Pike's ears. It pooled into small black puddles on the ground, withering the green moss to dust and eating away at the stone.

"He has been cleansed of the dark power," she said, turning to look at Brian. "Do you have the power to destroy it?"

"I don't know," Brian said. "Do I?"

"He does," Kroma said.

"I see you have taken another form," she said.

"It have taken nothing," Kroma told her. "This young man is a defender, and I do not compel him in any way."

"What is your name?" she asked.

"It's Brian," he told her. She smiled and placed a cool, watery hand upon his face.

"You have an honest look to you," she said. "You remind me of someone I met recently."

"Thank you, goddess Mara," Brian said, not sure the right way to address a deity, especially one as beautiful as she was, and he was already confused enough with another god speaking inside his head.

"You are welcome," she said. "There is no reason to be nervous. I no longer use the name Mara. When next we meet, please call me Carly."

"Yes, of course," Brian said. "We will meet again?"

"If you are with my brother, then it is likely. We have much that needs be done."

"And what of you, sister?"

"I am searching for someone. Once I have found him, I will join you."

"Another one of your lovers?"

"Perhaps. But you know better than to ask such a question."

"You are still the same."

"If you choose to think so."

"Thank you for your help."

"Of course, brother. You have made a good choice in this one. He is much like you, though more pleasing to the eye."

"I am grateful for your help, but I am not in the mood to be teased."

"One must always tease one's little brother. It is one of the most ancient laws."

"You've got water in your head if you think that's a law."

"It is good to see you, brother."

"You as well, sister."

She smiled, then her watery form swirled and cascaded to the ground with a splash, some of it hitting Pike's face and he stirred.

"Oh, no, I've gone blind," he said.

Brian pulled off the strip of cloth that was tied around Pike's head and looked in his eyes as the Xallan blinked and looked around.

"Pike, are you all right?"

Pike looked up at him and blinked.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I'm Brian," he told him.

"Have we met?"

"Yes, we have."

"Oh. Who am I?"

"You're Pike."

"I am?"

Brian sighed.

"What's wrong with him?" Brian asked.

"His memory has been harmed," Kroma replied. "He may have buried himself when Kenra tried to steal his thoughts."

"Will he recover?"

"In time, perhaps."

"Your name is Pike and you're a Ranger and a swordfighter," Brian said. "You were injured in a fight and your memory is gone."

"I must not be much of a swordfighter then?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, I'm tied up, so I must be a prisoner, which means I must have lost the fight."

"Not exactly," Brian said and he helped him sit up, then he pulled a knife from his belt and cut the ropes from his wrists.

"Thanks, that's much better," Pike said. "If I'm not a prisoner, how did I come to be here?"

"I carried you from the palace," Brian said.

"Palace? What was I doing in a palace?"

"You were trying to kill a king."

"Oh, well then," Pike said. "That's looking for some trouble, isn't it? No wonder I was a prisoner." He looked down at his belt. "Is this my sword?"

"Yes, you're a swordfighter and a Ranger."

"A Ranger?"

"Yes."

"Is that like someone who ranges about, sword fighting and such?"

"No," Brian said. "Well, yes. Sort of."

"No and yes, sort of?"

"It will take some time to explain, and we don't have time," Brian said.

"Oh, we're in a hurry then?"

"Yes, and I have to go back to the palace and rescue someone else."

"Oh, would you like some help? It's the least I could do, to return the favor."

"You should stay here," Brian said.

"And do what?"

"Just wait."

"Stand guard or something."

"Like a ranger."

"Yes, like a ranger. Which also means, don't let anyone see you."

"A secret ranger then."

"Yes, Pike."

"Is that the weapon or the fish?"

"The fish, I think," Brian said.

"Well that's disappointing."

"Just keep watch."

"I thought you said to stand guard."

"Yes, stand guard by keeping watch."

"A secret ranger."

"Yes."

"Very good."

Brian headed back toward the entrance to the tunnel. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Pike had drawn his sword and was swinging it around the way he and his brothers used to do with sticks.

"Brian, it may not be wise to return to the city."

"You heard what she did to him," Brian said.

"Yes, Kenra has taken yet more power, the power of the dragon king."

"Kenra? That was Queen Calexis."

"Yes, Kenra is in the queen, similar to how I am with you."

"Then which of them tortured the lizard man?"

"The lizard man, as you call him, is Elric, the young king of Kandara, and the magic that stole his power was that of Kenra, the god of lies, though perhaps now goddess of lies would be more exact."

"What about Calexis?"

"It is possible that she suffers in some dark corner of her mind, as I did and the way Cerric did much of the time, if she survives at all. Kenra has become far more adept with his power and he hated sharing his thoughts with me and the part of Cerric that remained, so it is possible that he would have completely consumed the Xallan queen when he took control of her. Having seen Kenra's thoughts before he left Cerric, I know it was his intention, which means Kenra has become Calexis."

"Is this what gods do, take over people?"

"No, it is not what we do, though it has happened before.
And you do not see me controlling you, do you?"

"Would I know it if you were?" Brian asked.

"If I were, you would not be walking back into the palace."

"Right. You make a fair point."

"I always do."

"How do you know so much about Kenra and Elric and all of that?"

"I was in Kenra's mind, and Cerric's as well. I have seen much, which is why Kenra wanted to leave me trapped in Cerric's body. It was good of you to rescue me."

"I did not know I was rescuing you," Brian said.

"That is true, and for that I apologize to you. If you would like me gone, then perhaps we can find someone who is still faithful to me, then I can leave you."

"I don't really mind," Brian said. "And I like that you know things."

"There is much I can teach you, if you wish."

"That sounds to be a fair trade. I imagine you know a lot, being a god."

"I do. Now let's rescue what's left of the young Akandra and get away from the city before Kenra works his spell."

"You mean before Calexis works her spell."

"Yes, you are learning quickly."

*****

Calexis watched as though through the eyes of another as trays of bloody meat were devoured and she felt it satiate the gnawing hunger in her stomach, but she did not share the satisfied feeling that flowed through her body, which felt strange and foreign to her. She watched as her eyes looked about the room and felt her limbs move as her body walked into the royal bedroom. She glanced at the dark stain on the floor where Cerric had died, killed by her hand, but her eyes turned toward the wardrobe and the long, standing mirror against the wall as her hands shrugged off the torn red dress and dropped it to the floor.

Calexis watched as she stepped in front of the mirror and she was shocked at what she saw. The pale, beautiful and voluptuous body she had been so proud of had changed far more than she had imagined, no longer accented with the features she had inherited from the Darga, she was far more reptilian now. Her face was more angular and long, sharp horns protruded back from her temples, her nails had become claws and her body was a different shape, with thicker legs, a round belly, more powerful arms, and the pointed folds of leathery wings stuck over the tops of her armored shoulders, while almost all of her body was covered in scales. At least breasts, which had always been points of pride, still remained, though they were encircled by leather and scales and their tips looked sharp enough to cut someone, but the rest of her was so much like the creature, Elric. She felt herself smile and saw that her mouth was wider than before and her teeth had grown even longer.

The eyes that looked back at her were barely her own, with graying black shadows and purple fire shifting behind the sharp predatory lines of a reptile, and Calexis knew that she was lost. If not for the place in her mind that the mage Dakar had shown her how to make, there would be nothing left of her, for she knew the thoughts of the god that had entered her, and the dark, consuming power that flowed through her being, a contradiction that it would not destroy her, somehow its power being held in balance by the god. Such a power, Calexis had never imagined, and it was the opposite of what she had wanted. The power of the shadow was not power at all, but emptiness, and a hunger, to destroy all things.

"What has become of me?" she thought, and all she heard was her own voice, laughing as the creature in the mirror reveled in her power.

Calexis heard an echo of a thought from somewhere in the back of her mind, and she wondered if some small glimmer of who she had been still existed. Unlike when she had taken the essence of her brother long ago, then Cerric the arrogant king who thought he was a god, she was sure she had perfected the magic to truly consume her host. The name Kenra was a memory, though she still knew herself in such a way, and she had truly become Calexis, and she was pleased with this choice, for her mind was sharp, her latent powers diverse and unexpected, and her body both fertile and strong. There was much she could do with such a form, and she was pleased at how her appetites complemented her desires.

Calexis opened the Xallan Queen's wardrobe and sorted through the various dresses, all of them elegant and made from the finest cloth, but she knew that few if any of them would fit her new body. She sent out a thought to one of the guards at her door and he headed off to set the dressmakers, tailors, leatherworkers and armorers from the city to work. If she was to lead the battle against the elves, she would need to be attired appropriately, but for the ritual, something from the wardrobe would suffice.

She pulled out a black dress with a long train and she stepped into it, realizing it would easily tear upon the wings that now jutted from her shoulders. As she pulled it up, it became stuck and Calexis looked behind her and saw that she had also grown a tail. It was longer and thinner than what a Darga might have, more like that of a dragon and with spikes at the end. It was surprising that she had not noticed it, but Calexis found it mildly amusing. She focused her thoughts on shifting her shape, the way Elric had changed, and she felt the tail grow smaller and almost completely disappear into the lowest part of her back. Calexis concentrated a little more and thinned out her legs and shortened the claws on her hands.

It was a powerful figure, and she knew it would be of use to her, but it was still somewhat impractical to walk around in half dragon form. She shifted a few other parts of her body as much as she could, and wriggled into the black dress, but it was too tight, so she cut a long slit down the front of it, making more room for the parts of her that stuck out. Calexis knew she could make the horns on her head shorter and less pointed if she wanted to, but she decided to keep them, as their shape matched the sharp lines of her cheeks and her jaw.

Pleased with herself, she wandered back to the outer room and stabbed a large piece of venison with a knife from the table. Calexis lifted the dripping piece of meat up high and opened her mouth wide and dropped it between her rows of sharp teeth. With her long tongue, she licked the blood from her lips, then she walked over to the corner of the room, where the guards had left a pike, upon which she had placed Cerric's head.

Calexis picked it up, smiled at the former king's dead eyes and walked from her chamber, heading down through the palace and out into the city where the people loudly celebrated the champions of the tournament. The empress, who was now a fearsome goddess, took her time as she walked through the streets, surrounded by her soldiers and gathering followers. The preparations were complete, and the black robed priests simply waited for her presence before beginning the spell that would bring the darkness and cast a shadow over the land.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Only a few people had accompanied Calthas to the temple of Stroma, mostly out of curiosity than any sort of fear, and he realized that the festivities of the tourney and the free and cheap food and drink Cerric had arranged kept the people in thrall almost as much as the dark magic of the book kept the mages in line. The night was dark when they arrived, and Calthas had expected to see the lightning of the ancient god sparking up into the sky, but the temple was dark, and even darker inside, lit by only a few torches that burned in sconces upon the walls.

"What has happened?" Calthas asked Willem, who appeared from an alcove near the side door of the temple, where he had apparently been hiding.

"I don't know," Willem said. "Cerric must have done something, for the light of Stroma vanished after he came to the temple."

"Cerric was here?" Calthas asked.

"Stroma warned us he would come," Willem said.

"What happened?"

"I have never been more afraid in my life, even when the mage priests took my eye and left me for dead it was nothing like the presence of the dark power. Stroma's power protected me. Cerric came, clearly angry, and then he left. Not long after, Stroma's lightning ceased to be."

"Can you sense him?" Calthas asked as he reached out with his own power to see if he could find the god's power.

"I sense his power, but it is different," Willem said. "I no longer feel his presence. You don't think Cerric did something?"

"It is possible," Calthas said.

"Could he have killed him?" Willem was aghast. "Could we have missed such a battle? Is Stroma defeated?"

"If so, then we are doomed," Calthas said, glancing over at the handful of people he had brought to the temple. A few of them looked around at the inside of the temple, out of idle curiosity, and a few others began to make their way toward the door. Calthas called after them. "Wait!"

"We've seen enough," said one man. "You've got some nerve, dragging us away from our cups to this dusty old place. The whole city's celebrating, and you're wasting people's time, playing tricks."

"It wasn't a trick," Calthas said.

The man turned, pushed open the doors, then walked out of the temple, and the others followed him, leaving Calthas and Willem alone in the empty, hollow structure.

"What do we do now?" Willem asked. "Without Stroma's protection, the priesthood could be upon us at any moment."

"What about the goddess?"

"Would she protect us?"

"Of course," Calthas said.

The two mages pushed open the door to the passage that would lead to the next temple and made their way to the temple of the Lady, but they found it dark and devoid of any kind of energy as well.

"Ehlena?" Calthas whispered. "Help."

His voice echoed dryly in the vast chamber, and he felt his heart beginning to sink, then he heard something. Willem started to pace back and forth and Calthas grabbed him by the sleeve.

"Stop," he said. "Listen."

Barely more than a whisper, Ehlena's voice drifted into the temple like the slightest gust of wind.

"Gone," she said. "Stroma is gone."

"Lady, will you protect us?"

"I am weakened. You must escape."

"We cannot," Calthas said. "The mage priests have already begun the spell."

"Wait."

"Wait?"

"Wait."

"Wait here? Wait for what?" Willem asked, his voice fraught with fear.

"Wait," she said again and her voice faded away.

*****

Elric heard the sound of familiar footsteps and the heavy wooden door squeaked open on its iron hinges. He sniffed the air, recognizing the smell of steel and sweat of the warrior who had visited him before.

"You have returned," Elric said, his voice cracked and dry.

"I am sorry I did not come sooner," Brian told him as he used the strength his armor gave him to pull the iron shackles apart. "I heard what she did to you. It was cruel."

"It does not matter," Elric said. "None of it matters."

"If it doesn't matter then come with me," Brian said as he yanked the irons off his scaled feet. "I took a risk to come get you, so you're coming with me," Brian told him. He grabbed Elric by the arm and pulled him from the wooden platform and he landed on his feet with a heavy thud. Brian grabbed his large, clawed hand and pulled him along. "Hang onto my arm and follow me."

"My eyes may be blind, but I can tell where you are," Elric said, sniffing the air. "Just go, I will follow."

Brian led him out of the room and down the stone corridor to where the secret door opened up to the tunnels. Once they were clear of the tunnels and through the thick vines that hid the outer entrance, Brian led Elric to the remains the shrine and helped him to sit down on a stone bench and he looked around for Pike, who was nowhere to be seen.

"Where are we?" Elric asked. "It smells like water and moss. There is also something dark here." He turned in the direction of the black sludge that had come from Pike's ears.

"We are on far side of the city," Brian told him, listening, trying to hear if Pike might be roaming around in the trees nearby. "We are only a short walk away from Lake Mara."

"I have heard of it, but alas I have never seen it," Elric said. "I suppose I never will." He sniffed the air. "Someone is cooking fish. We do not have much fish in Kandara. Not many lakes, but a few streams with mountain trout."

"You are Elric of Kandara," Brian said, acknowledging him.

"Yes, that is my name," he replied. "And you are Brian."

"Yes," Brian said. "How did you know that?"

"I can hear things, the things people say when they say something else, and the things they don't say. I can hear the other one with you, the one who does not speak aloud, though I can hear the things he does not say as well."

"And what doesn't he say?" Brian asked, curious.

"It is probably better that I do not say," Elric replied.

"I just saved you," Brian said.

"He wonders if you were raised under a rock, for you know so little of the world, and he wonders if you would understand even half of his knowledge."

"Did you really say that?" Brian asked.

"I might have thought it," Kroma replied. "Do not be offended, Brian. I am a god. There is much that you may not be able to comprehend."

"I was raised on a farm, not under a rock," Brian told him crossly "And I might not know a lot about the world, but I'm learning as best I can."

"Fair enough," Kroma said. "Irritating creatures at times, these dragons."

"I heard that also," Elric said.

"I know you did," Kroma said. "I would have thought that being raised among the Kandaran people you would have better manners, and being the heir to the throne, you might also have some tact."

"I have been a failure on every account," Elric replied. "I betrayed my people and gave away my throne for a lie. I did not even fight, and now I have given up my birthright, and am left like this, blind and ruined."

"Quit your whining," Kroma said. "You resisted Cerric time and time again, I saw it. I was there. You're a lot stronger than you think, Elric. Even now, you are not without power, though you will need much time to heal."

"I would deny your words, but they ring true," Elric said. "I do not know what to think of that."

"Think all you want," Kroma said.

"I hear someone," Elric said, looking up with his empty eyes. "It is strange. Her voices sounds very far away."

Brian listened, but he could not hear anything, but he had the feeling that Kroma could hear the same things as Elric. He tried harder and he thought he heard a voice whispering, and he felt like there was something familiar about it, but he could not make out the words.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Brian," Kroma said. "If I had a body of my own, you would kick me for what I am about to suggest."

"We're going back in?"

"It is a request, on behalf of a goddess."

"Carly?"

"Another goddess, the Lady goddess, my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose we'd better do what she asks."

"It seems you were raised properly," Kroma said, with a warm laugh that was rich and deep. "There may be hope for you yet, my boy."

"Elric," Brian said. "Wait here and if a fellow named Pike wanders by, tell him you are my friend. And see if you can make any sense of his thoughts. He is a little confused about who he is, ever since Calexis used her magic on him."

"I will sit here and breathe in the cool night air," Elric said. "It is not so crisp as the air among the Kandaran mountains, but it is far better than the dungeon."

"That is a perfect thing to do," Brian told him as he ran back toward the tunnel. "Just sit here and breathe."

"What else am I to do?" Elric asked, but Brian was already gone.

*****

The crowd had grown to an enormous size by the time Calexis made her way to the temple district, with some people cheering her and others trying to attack her, outraged that she would kill their king and show such disrespect to him. Fights broke out in the streets as the celebration turned to angry chaos and Calexis smiled widely, ignoring the raucous madness of it all as she marched toward the great, dark stone temple, with Cerric's head atop the pike in her hand.

She handed the tall spear to one of her guards and turned to face the crowd.

"People of Maramyr, people of Xalla and all others who have traveled here to this great city for the King's Tournament, I welcome you to the temple of the one god, the true ruler of these lands. The one you knew as king, Cerric was but a vessel for this power, a regent just as he was before, but he was too weak, too petty to hold such power, thus he is dead, and I have taken his place, by right as Empress of the three kingdoms, Xalla, Maramyr, and Kandara, and goddess, the one true power, greater than any other in this world. Behold the power of the one, and fall in obedient worship."

Calexis spread her hands, calling forth black and purple flames as the mages began to work the spell, linking the crystals in the temple to those that were placed through the city. Beams of light shot from the temple in every direction, creating an elaborate lattice over the city, against the dark night sky. The door of the temple blew open and the blinding light of the crystals poured forth behind her and Calexis turned and shot black and purple hued tendrils of power from her hands. The dark power consumed the light, then it spread through the city, following every beam and darkening every crystal, and the few stars above faded as a dark, grey haze covered the sky and a grey miasma, like a combination of fog and smoke, filled the air inside the temple, and slowly billowed out of its doors.

The people fighting the soldiers in the temple square stopped as the light flared overhead then turned to darkness, unsure of what had happened, then they stopped completely when the fog touched them. One by one, they lowered their weapons and fell to their knees, the glimmering light of their will gone from their eyes. Not a one was spared, save for the soldiers and the mages who were already under the spell of the god, and one single warrior, who walked through the fog, the ground rumbling with his every footfall.

"You," Calexis hissed and growled as he walked toward her.

"An interesting choice you have made for your appearance," rumbled Kroma's deep, booming voice, coming out of Brian's mouth. "I am not sure about the horns, but the rest of you makes an impression."

"You dare to stand before me?"

"I will go where I want and stand where I choose," Kroma said. "You do not question me."

"I am an Empress, and you but a boy with a sword," she said. "You were foolish to come, brother for I know how weak you truly are."

"I have come to deliver a message," he said.

"And what is that?"

"Stroma is no more."

"That is it? That is all?"

"There is more," Kroma said. "Stoma may be dead, but the power of our father yet endures, and there are new powers rising in the land, far greater than you."

"I know of whom you speak, and I have already poisoned that well."

"Do not presume to know my mind," Kroma bellowed and the ground shook. "You could have learned many things from me, perhaps tempered your hatred and found some purpose for your existence, but in your arrogance you ignored my counsel for over a thousand years. And all that time, I watched and listened and learned while you gathered every secret, every lie, every little plan and all your magics and I have spent my time devising ways to counter you."

"And now you wish to face me? To do battle? Is that it?" Calexis laughed. "Your power is no match for mine. You will perish."

"Another time, perhaps," Kroma said and he turned and walked away as the grey fog moved closer to him.

"You would dare turn your back on me?" her voice shrilled and growled.

"No, I wouldn't. I believe I just did," Kroma said.

Calexis gathered her power and sent a blast of black and purple fire after him. Kroma spun around, then he punched the ground and a stone wall rose up in front of him. The black fire smashed against the wall, clinging to the rock and shooting off to either side of it, and Kroma ran in leaps and bounds toward the doors of his temple, which opened and then slammed shut as another blast hit them.

He kept running all the way to the center of the temple, leaping the last few paces and landing with his hand upon the seal in the stone floor. The walls of the temple rumbled and shook from another blast, and a reddish, orange glow shimmered throughout the entire structure, seeming to give the walls added strength. Kroma turned to the two mages.

"You can thank the Lady for your rescue," he rumbled. "Now, we must leave quickly. My power will not hold for very long."

"Who are you?" Willem asked.

"Who do you think I am?" Kroma said, as another blast hit the temple. "Follow me."

He walked to the back corner of the chamber and pressed on a stone in the wall, releasing a hidden catch and several large stones dropped and slid aside, opening a hole in the floor.

"It is not a far drop," he said.

"Allow me," Calthas said and he cast a small flame down into the darkness, revealing a passageway. "You are right, it isn't that far."

The mage climbed down, dropping easily to the floor of the passage, then Kroma helped Willem down and leapt in after him as another blast hit the temple, shaking loose chunks of stone as the roof of began to collapse. Kroma pressed another stone in the wall of the passage, a seemingly nondescript piece of rock, then another mechanism clicked and the stone floor above them closed once more.

"Now where to?" Calthas asked.

"I think I can lead them from here," Brian said.

"By all means," Kroma replied.

"This way," Brian told the mages. "It will take us out of the city."

"Your voice sounds different," Calthas said. "And I have a fairly good idea why that might be. What is your name?"

"It's Brian."

"Well, Brian, on behalf of Willem and myself, thank you and your friend for rescuing us." Calthas pulled a silver flask out of his robe and unstopped it. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Perhaps later," Brian said. "Let's get out of here."

"Lead on," Calthas replied and he took a swig then stashed the flask back in his robes.

"Do you really know all of Kenra's plans?" Brian asked.

"No, of course not." Kroma said.

"You told him you did," Brian said.

"No, I told him that I was listening and watching and learning while he made his plans. It doesn't mean I heard and saw everything. It was very dark much of the time, keeping myself clear of the shadow within him. Not a lot to do, except try not to fall prey to madness."

"I don't understand," Brian said. "Why would you say what you said?"

"Kenra is suspicious, obsessed and paranoid," Kroma replied. "It is a strength but it is also a weakness. I do not know the mind of this Calexis, but from what I could tell from her time with Cerric, and the fact that she schemed to kill him, she is cut from a similar cloth and will now expend endless amounts of useless energy worrying about how much I know."

"Did we have to walk right up to her and say it in her face?" Brian asked. "You couldn't have sent a note with a messenger or maybe tied to an arrow?"

"I suppose I could have written a nice letter, but it would hardly have the same effect, would it? Listen to that power raging away against an old, empty temple."

Even as they continued further down through the tunnels, the pounding of blasts of power echoed through the darkness and shook the earth around them. Brian wondered about something else.

"You said you were trapped inside Kenra's thoughts."

"Correct."

"Did you ever try to take control, like you did with me back there?"

"I did not take control," Kroma said. "I asked and you allowed me to speak and act through you."

"Yes, but could you if you wanted to?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't."

"If you were inside Kenra or Cerric, would you?"

"Most certainly. I tried many times and even succeeded for a few brief moments, though to no avail whatsoever."

"So, what's different?"

"You are different."

"What do you mean?"

"You are not Kenra," Kroma said. "I don't know if you noticed, but I am intentionally not listening in on your thoughts. If I were to do such a thing, I could answer your questions before you even asked them, but it would be manipulative and dishonorable to do such a thing, so I do not."

"But you would do it to Kenra," Brian said.

"Kenra is the god of lies, Brian. There is no honor to betray, none whatsoever."

"I have another question."

"Ask it."

"Calexis said you were weak, but you could still smash the ground and keep the temple from falling down. You seemed pretty powerful to me."

"Very little of that power was mine, Brian," Kroma said, and Brian felt the feeling of fatigue flow through him, like the way he felt after doing some kind of difficult activity for a long time.

"Then how did you do it?"

"I didn't," Kroma said. "You did."

"I can't do such things."

"With my knowledge and your strength, you can do many things, Brian."

"I'm not that strong though," Brian said, not quite believing him.

"No, you're not quite that strong," Kroma agreed and Brian felt immediately deflated. "You have strength, but the armor that you wear and the weapons that you carry have the ability to add to your power. You are already a strong lad on your own, which means you are already a powerful warrior but there is a path open to you if you wish to become even more powerful."

"Powerful enough to fight Calexis?"

"Perhaps," Kroma replied. "Every warrior that fights for Calexis is striving to become more powerful. It behooves you to do the same."

"You will help, right?"

"Of course, I am the god of warriors, or at least I was." Kroma's voice became a little less sure for a moment. "To be honest, I don't know if I am the god of anything anymore, but I am what I am and I have much wisdom to offer if you wish to become an even greater warrior."

"Which way do we go now?" Calthas asked.

Brian realized that he was standing at a cross in the passage, and staring blankly at a stone wall. He was not sure how long he was standing like that, and he was glad that the mages could not see his cheeks turn red in the dim light of the mage flame. He took the left passage, which he knew would lead down to the lake, hoping that Elric would not have wandered off the way that Pike had.

"You could have told me to turn at the end of the passage," Brian said.

"I will not influence you, Brian," Kroma told him.

"That's fine, but you can warn me of things if you don't mind, especially if I'm going to get hit by a sword or do something stupid like stare at a wall."

"Very well," Kroma said. "I will try to keep you out of trouble."

"That would be helpful."

"A helpful god, I am," he said, chuckling to himself for a moment, then Brian thought he heard Kroma let out a deep sigh.

"One more question," Brian said, hoping he was not bothering the god.

"Ask it."

"Are you really a thousand years old?"

Kroma laughed heartily.

"I am far older than that, my boy. I have been trapped for a thousand years, but that is merely a blink of an eye, a tick of the clock, a few grains of sand in the glass, a mere handful of moments in time."

"Then it wasn't that long of a time for you."

"It was not a short amount of time either, and it felt like an eternity."

"I suppose it would, being trapped."

"Time passes quickly when one is free, but every moment is agony in captivity."

"I could not imagine it," Brian said.

"I would not recommend that you try."

"How old are you, really?"

"I am as old as the mountains and younger than the sea, truly.
Does that answer your question?"

"Not really, but that's your answer, isn't it?"

"It is as close to an answer as I can give to such a question."

"Perhaps I should not ask such questions."

"Nonsense. You may ask and I may answer, but if you do not ask, then there is no answer."

"I think I understand."

"Good. Now we're at another turn and you're staring at the wall like a fool again."

"I thought you said you would tell me when I was going to do something stupid."

"I just did."

"I meant before I did something stupid."

"You only just got here. You haven't been staring for long enough to look stupid. At least I don't think so. What is time, anyway? A blink of an eye, the passing of a day, the change of a season, the spilling of seed, the crops that grow for rhymes or reasons, the times, the seasons, the years that fast fade away, how quickly they go."

"Are you all right?"

"I am fine."

"You talk a lot."

"I apologize. It's been a thousand years since I really talked with anyone."

"I thought you said a thousand years is like the blink of an eye."

"It was a very slow and painful blink, and very quiet lonely, save for the insane ramblings of an obsessed and power mad god."

"I understand. You can talk if you want."

"No, I can be quiet now. This is your mind."

"It's all right. I don't mind."

"Really, I'm fine. I will reflect quietly."

"Are you sure?"

"We're coming to another turn in the passage, just ahead."

"Thank you."

"Of course."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jax pulled another stone free from the mortar, opening enough of a space in the wall that he should be able to wriggle through and, after a few scrapes on his ribs and sucking in his breath, he tumbled onto the dusty floor on the other side. It had been many years since anyone had entered this part of the palace but the scent of charred wood still lingered in the air and the scorch marks upon the stone were still dark underneath a thick layers of dust, and Jax felt a slight sense of trepidation when he struck flint to the torch he had brought, irrationally worried that even a single spark might set the palace afire. The torch lit without incident and in the flickering orange glow, Jax set out to find the answers to questions that had weighed upon him for many long years.

As he walked down the stone corridor, past old furnishings and tapestries, it was like traveling back in time to a happier and more colorful kingdom, the days of King Gregor and Queen Aria, before Cerric became the regent and long before the priesthood and their dark magic poisoned the land. Jax remembered visiting this part of the palace when he was a boy, tagging along with his father, whose job it was to keep the king and his family safe. He had even met King Gregor on a few occasions and remembered his warm smile and unassuming manner, that tempered his commanding and powerful bearing like a thick blanket placed overtop firm, rocky ground.

A good king, he was, and respected by his people, save for the scandal of his marriage to a foreign princess, one of a different race, no less. As Jax remembered things, it had been more of a scandal for the elven people than for most of the folks at Maramyr, most of whom were fascinated by her and greeted her with warm welcome, though a number of the nobles, members of the older houses had been noticeably colder in their responses. His father was investigating rumors of plots against Gregor and Aria, and he suspected several members of the Maramyrian nobility, but he never told Jax who, and the night when the royal apartments caught fire and the king and queen were killed, he had disappeared.

Cerric was quick to blame him, and a number of others who had failed to protect the royal family, and there were a number of arrests, and many interrogations. All of the evidence pointed to someone close to the king and queen, but of the three people Cerric's investigation focused most heavily upon, Jax's father, Dash Larian, and the Royal Armsmaster, Tarnath Coromay, who was perhaps a closer friend to King Gregor than anyone, as well as Zachary, the head of the Council of Mages, and close friend to both the king and queen, both Zachary and Tarnath were grudgingly absolved, though they left Maramyr in disgrace, but Dash had gone missing the night of the fire, so all fingers eventually pointed to him.

Jax never believed the things he heard, that his father would do such a thing. He had seen him with the king more than once and knew they were close and trusted each other, and Jax knew that his father genuinely liked and respected the king. The way that Cerric had handled everything, left Jax convinced that something was being hidden, and from Cerric's behavior of late, from the stories that he had been the one behind the attack on his niece, Princess Ariana, Gregor and Aria's daughter, and how he had declared himself king, Jax was now more than convinced that Cerric was the one responsible for the deaths of the king, the queen, and the child who had just been born, a child Jax had met briefly, held in the arms of his mother, Queen Aria, when Jax had visited with his father the day before the fire.

Jax paused at the blackened doorway to the room where he knew the infant would have slept and he turned around, astonished at how much of the large room that led to it had also been burned. It was surprising because, Cerric had barred anyone except his own hand picked soldiers from entering this part of the palace, and remembering what he had heard at the time, it was never mentioned that the fire occurred in the room where the child slept. That simple fact alone, which had obviously been left out of any stories about the investigation, suggested that if the fire truly was an attack upon the royals, then it was the infant who was the target, and not the king and queen. When Jax stepped into the room, what he saw confused him even more.

The room was blackened and charred and even the stone walls and parts of the ceiling appeared to have melted in places, but at the center of it all was a circle that the fire had not touched. Jax cocked his head and looked at the spot, holding out his torch, away from his eyes so the brightness of the flames would not affect his vision. He knew the room was where the child had slept, and yet there was no cradle, no crib, and Jax distinctly recalled seeing something of the sort from where he stood outside the room, the day he had met the queen and her new baby. The cradle had been removed, but the scorch marks told a story nonetheless.

It was clear that the fire that had burned the palace had not been a natural one. No fire lit by a careless torch or a spilled lantern would burn in a clean circle, nor would it leave a place at its center untouched. This fire was made by magic, of that Jax had little doubt, and he wondered why it was centered around the cradle where the child would have lain. It was as though whoever had created the fire would have been protecting that one place, and burning everything around it, which would only make sense if the child was the one being attacked. But why attack a child? And why kill the king and queen to protect him? It made no sense.

Jax walked around the room, looking at its center from every angle, trying to imagine what might have transpired, but all he saw was the layer of dust in an empty, charred room. He closed his eyes and thought back to what it had looked like when he had glanced inside, so many years ago. It had been about midday and the room was bright and cheery, the wooden trim around the windows freshly painted and with bright tapestries hanging from the stone walls. Sheer curtains billowed in the afternoon breeze, and patches of sunlight shone upon the floor.

Jax opened his eyes, then he turned around and looked at the window. Like the entrance to this part of the palace, the window had been sealed with stone and mortar, blocked from the world, away from prying eyes. The more he thought about it, the fact that the royal quarters had been sealed in such a way made little sense. He knew that Cerric had taken up residence in another part of the palace, and one of his first acts as regent had been to decree that the scene of the death of the king and queen would be sealed away, as a reminder to all of the tragedy that had befallen them, and the Royal Council had readily agreed. Jax remembered that it had happened quickly, in a matter of days, for he had tried to get into these rooms, to try to find out what might have happened to his father, who had gone missing.

Jax stared at the window, its grey surface a mottled pattern of stone and fresh mortar, obviously put up in a hurry, but telling him no more than what he had discovered in the room. He stepped a little closer to the window and held out his torch, looking at its surface and he saw movement and a dull reflection from the torch upon the mortar. He reached out and touched it and was surprised to find it soft and damp to the touch, as though the window had only just been covered. Jax was not a builder or a mason but he knew that mortar applied years ago should not still be wet. Curiously, he picked at it with his finger and the mortar fell away in gobs, landing on the stone windowsill.

Within moments, he managed to pull one of the stones loose and he pulled it away, revealing something very strange. Behind the stone, where he expected to see the night sky, Jax saw a strange glimmer that glowed with a bluish light. He pulled away the rest of the stones, tossing them to the floor, and behind the stones was something that looked like a hole, torn in a piece of fabric, except what was torn seemed to be the world itself. On either side of it, Jax could see the dark clouds in the night sky and the glow of torchlight from the city below.

A bright light flashed from what looked like the direction of the temple district, then all of Maramyr lit up with bright beams of light and Jax wondered what Cerric and his blasted mage priests were up to now, and he thought perhaps it might be time to leave, for it was likely something dangerous. Curious about what was happening in the city, he leaned in toward the window, get a better look, and he felt something, like a kind of pull coming from the tear itself and he found himself wanting to move closer to it, even though he knew he probably should not. Jax looked more closely at the bluish glow and it slowly darkened into a clear, starry night sky, and it felt like he could see all of existence.

Jax blinked and shook his head, wondering if there might be some kind of magic at work upon him, and he stepped back from the window only to realize that it was gone, and the room he was in was also gone. He felt a rush of panic when he looked down and saw only stars, but he somehow knew he was not falling. He turned and took a few steps, and found that he could walk as though he was on solid ground, though there was nothing beneath his feet, nor in any direction, save for the stars in the night.

"Now this is passing strange," he said, and his voice echoed around him.

"'Tis a strange place, this is," a voice said, and Jax spun around.

Sitting on a wooden log, next to a blazing fire was a man Jax recognized whose face he had not seen in many years, a face that was half blackened by soot and his clothes charred and smoking as though he had accidentally caught himself on fire and had just put out the flames. The man raised a jug of what appeared to be wine and took a long drink from it as Jax walked toward him.

"What are you doing here?" Jax asked him.

"Drinking, obviously," the man replied with a drunken laugh.

"What are you doing in this place?"

"I just told you, I'm drinking. Sitting here, drinking some wine and staring at this blasted fire, that's what I'm doing."

"Why are you sitting here drinking by a fire?"

"Why? Why not? There's not much else to do, I can think of." He lifted the jug. "Would you care for a swig? It's darned good wine, best you ever tasted, I reckon."

"Do you know who I am?" Jax asked.

"You?" The man laughed. "You look like a traveler, though you could be a thief, sneaking up on me like you did. You might be in my imagination though. I have been drinking for some time, you know, so it's possible I'm seeing things, and this place, it plays tricks. You do look familiar though. Have we met?"

"It's me, Jax."

"Jax? I know that name. It rings a bell, it does. There was a young fella I knew once, by that name, a good lad he was. Jax. I think that was his name."

"Do you know who you are?"

"Do I know who I am? Of course I do!" He laughed, his face red from the wine and the warmth of the fire. "Of course."

"Are you so drunk that you don't remember anything?"

The man stared up at him and Jax saw tears begin to well up in his eyes.

"I don't know. I don't want to know." He took another swig from the jug then held it out to Jax. "Have some wine."

"No, thank you," Jax said and he sat down on another log that somehow appeared where none had been a moment ago.

"Well then, sit a while. I could use the company. Not sure when I last had a visitor."

"Others have come here?"

"Now that I think about it, I do believe that you're the first."

"And you have been here all this time, drinking."

"I'm not quite sure. I suppose I have."

"You don't know."

"I forget," he said and he held the jug of wine close. "That's why I'm drinking. To forget."

"To forget what?"

"I don't know," he said, and then he smiled through his tears. "I don't want to know. Just let me forget."

"Tell me, what do you want to forget?" Jax asked, doing his best to control the myriad emotions running through him.

"Everything," he said, and he stared into the flames. "That blasted fire, it won't let me forget. It's always there, no matter what I do, always a reminder of what I've done."

"What have you done?" Jax asked, but he suspected he already knew the answer.

"I don't do much, really. Not much to do here except drink, watch the fire and read my book." He reached into his coat and pulled out a thin, leather bound book. "It's mostly pictures, but they're like stories and they pass the time."

Jax stared at the book in his father's hands. There was nothing special about how it looked, its cover simple and nondescript, but it raised the hairs on the back of his neck the same way the magic of the black robed priests did, and Jax knew that the book had something to do with why his father, the great Dash Larian, thief, former assassin and trusted protector to a king, had come to be in this place.

"May I see that?" Jax asked.

"Of course," he replied and handed over the book.

When his fingers touched the book, Jax felt a strange desire to open it and he quickly pulled a kerchief from his pocket and wrapped the book in it, then tucked it away inside the folds of his coat. He looked up at his father, who had barely aged a day for the nearly twenty years he had been missing, and he saw the look of recognition slowly appear on his face.

"Jax? Is that really you?"

"Yes, father," Jax replied. "I think I'll have a drink of that wine now."

*****

Calexis seethed as she blasted each of the temples of the old gods to bits, her black fire eating away at the stone and casting an ominous purple light about the square that flickered and glowed in the dark grey fog and smoke. Dark energy flowed from the crystals throughout the city and into the temple, adding to her power, and it felt good to use it, to feel the raw, destructive force of which she was capable. Once she had vented her anger and the dust had settled, Calexis looked down at the people in the square, who had fallen to their knees before her, and with the power of the crystals she saw that nearly every person in the city had done the same. Only one warrior still stood, and she recognized the powerful form of her son, Draxis as he walked through the hundreds of people kneeling prostrate upon the ground, his great axe over his shoulder.

"I see you have completed what Cerric started," he said as he emerged from the fog. "Your power changes you."

"That is the power of the Akandra," she told him, then she gestured toward the people. "This is the power of the one god."

"Do you follow the priesthood now, mother?"

"No, my son, the priesthood follows me. I have taken the power from Cerric, the power of the god. It is mine to rule this world as I see fit, and all will obey me."

Draxis looked around him at the countless people, kneeling, with their heads bowed.

"You appear to have their devotion," he said.

"They worship my power as they should," she told him, then she looked at the mass of people. "Rise!"

All of them at once rose to their feet and stood in the shadows of the fog and smoke, their eyes staring straight ahead, unblinking, their bodies unmoving, awaiting her next command. Calexis laughed at how easily they moved to her whim.

"And what will you do with them now?" Draxis asked.

"Whatever I please," she said with a grin. "They are completely bound to me, as loyal subjects should be." She looked at the people, sending her thoughts out through the city. "Go about your business, but return to my temple as the priests command you and celebrate my glory with your every act."

The people of Maramyr blinked as though waking from a dream, then they turned in different directions and began making their way back to their homes and their lives, as though nothing strange had happened, all the while thinking about how they could glorify their goddess, Calexis, the one true power.

"Are the champions are under your spell also?" Draxis asked.

"They have already assembled at the Academy grounds," Calexis replied. "It is curious that you appear to have resisted my magic."

"Perhaps it is my birthright," he said. "I am your son, after all."

"You have grown very powerful, Draxis," she said. "I will enjoy watching you destroy the people of the forest. Have Berant see to the army. We leave for Elvanar tomorrow."

"As you command," Draxis said and he walked away through the fog and the smoke.

Calexis turned and entered the temple, its interior crackling with purple energy and black fire. She saw the black robed mages using the crystals to gather energy from all of the people in the city, letting it flow into them, rejuvenating their bodies and their power as it move through them and along the links that bound them to her. Every line of power, every flow of energy, even the tiniest flicker of magic, no matter how circuitous its path, it all came to her and it was glorious. Calexis walked up to the large crystal suspended in the center of the temple overtop the cheap copy of the book she no longer needed, and she used her power to become larger, then she wrapped her arms around the crystal and quivered in ecstasy from the raw power that flowed into her, quickly replenishing all that she had foolishly used to destroy those irritating temples.

With her power practically spilling from her, Calexis felt her other appetites start to itch and she went off in search of some entertainment, wondering who she might toy with, who might provide her with the greatest amusement, and she cursed herself for sending Berant to mobilize the army. No matter, she thought, there would be plenty of time to torment the poor, unwilling, yet eminently capable Lord General. Calexis walked down the empty street and saw that some of the champions had resumed their revelries, toasting their valor, and she eyed them hungrily, wondering which of them would prove the most satisfying, and whether one alone would be enough for a hungry goddess.

*****

His face stung, her slap knocking him sideways, and Aaron barely managed to keep his feet from the force of it. Kasha stared at him, her eyes glinting angrily under the starlight of the clear, desert sky. Aaron stumbled back to his feet, rubbing his jaw after the unexpected and very powerful blow. The Ansari who were nearby glanced in their direction then they turned away.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"That was for lying," Kasha said.

"When did I lie to you?" Aaron asked.

"It seems you have lied to me from the start."

"What? I told you my name when we met," Aaron said.

"Antal? No, that is not the lie. The lie is who you are."

"I don't understand. How am I a lie? Is it because of the shadow?"

"No," she said, and she shook her head. "I cannot believe that I was so mistaken about you. It is a shame I have brought upon Ansari."

"What did I do to bring you shame?"

"When you said you would die instead of giving your power to the shadow, I did not like that, but there was a sense to it, but for you to lie down and offer yourself to Stroma like you did. That is not Ansari."

"I am not Ansari," Aaron said.

"No, you are not," Kasha said, and it was clear from the distant way her people had begun to treat him that they felt the same way.

"What would you have me do?" Aaron asked.

"You would end yourself so easily?"

"No," Aaron said. "I don't know. I was just trying to do what was best, for everyone, and for you." He glanced at her belly, which was more noticeable in the dim light of the stars.

"And you know this how?"

"I know that I cannot use my power," Aaron said. "I know that if I do, I will feed the shadow. And even if I could use my power, I know that is it dangerous. I don't know what I am doing. Stroma is...was a god and his knowledge is far greater than mine. I don't even understand most of the things he told me."

"And so you would have given him your power and your life?"

"If he could have stopped the shadow, I would, if it meant everyone was safe."

"Are you are a seer, Aaron, that you know this would come to be?"

"No, I am not. I just don't think I am the one to fight a god."

"Who are you?"

"Who am I?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"I am who I am."

"And who is that?"

"I don't know."

"And that the lie you live."

"Why are you so impossible!"

"Ansari do not use such a word. It is another lie."

"What do you want from me?" Aaron asked, completely exasperated.

"I want nothing. What is it that you want?"

"I don't know."

"Then go."

"What?"

"You are no longer welcome among Ansari. Lost in the sands you have become, Aaron and you must find your path." A tear slowly fell down her cheek. "I hope you find your truth, that you may someday come to know Ansari."

"You want me to leave? What about the training the Ansari have had me doing? It is helping. I can feel my power growing, without the shadow."

"You are cast from my domain. You must leave."

"I will talk to the Ansari leader."

"Ansari will not speak with you. I speak for Ansari now. You must leave."

"You aren't serious."

"I am Ansari."

"Fine then, I will leave at first light."

"You will leave now."

"As you wish."

"That is not my wish, Aaron."

"I don't understand."

"When you know, come find me."

"What about the dark god, the shadow? Will the Ansari fight?"

"You must leave now," Kasha said, her voice becoming hard despite the tears in her eyes.

Aaron looked around and saw the Ansari in the camp, all of them staring at him, and they did not look particularly friendly. Aaron looked at Kasha again, not sure what to say, but she had already turned and walked away. He stood there on the sandy ground, and looked up at the stars in the sky above, then he turned and slowly walked from the camp, and a gust of wind blew across his path, erasing his footsteps as he disappeared into the darkness.

Kasha entered the tent and found Stavros and Tash sitting next to Lexi, who lay upon a soft mat, still unconscious. They looked up at her, and saw the tears on her face.

"What's wrong, Kasha?" Tash asked.

"Aaron is gone."

"Aaron?" Stavros leapt to his feet. "Why would he leave?"

"He must find his way," Kasha said.

"What did you say to him?" Stavros asked. "He would not just leave like that."

"Wouldn't he?"

Stavros ran out of the tent and peered out into the night, but the wind began to rise, gusting sand across his vision, and even with his power, he could see very little.

"Damnable Ansari," he growled, then he noticed several of them standing nearby. Stavros went back inside the tent where Kasha had taken his place next to Lexi.

"Did you find Aaron?" Tash asked.

"No, child. I could not find him."

"Will he come back?"

"I don't know," Stavros said, looking over at Kasha. "Likely not." He turned and started toward the flap of the tent.

"Are you going too?" Tash asked.

"I no longer think I am welcome here," he said.

"You may stay if you wish, mage," Kasha told him. "You have not been untrue, thus you remain under my domain."

"I do not need your protection here or anywhere else in the world, Kasha," Stavros growled. "That being said, I wish you well and hope you and Ashan can help Lexi."

"Where will you go?"

"That is for me to know," Stavros said. "Tell your Ansari chief that I expect your people to stand against Cerric and the dark god, or you will hear about it in the most challenging of terms. This is not the time for us to stand apart."

"You tread upon dangerous sands, mage," Kasha said, understanding the accusation in his words.

"As I always have," Stavros said, then he turned and smiled at Tash. "Goodbye, Tash. Please give my regards to Lexi when she wakes."

"Goodbye Stavros," she said and she wanted to smile, but found that she could not.

The wind began to howl outside the tent as Stavros disappeared between the cloth flaps at its entrance, but the sound of the sandstorm was drowned out by the rush of power and the deafening thunderclap that shook the entire camp, as the angry mage gathered his power and disappeared in a flash of power.

*****

Brian pushed aside the vines and the two mages followed him out of the tunnel and into the mossy green canopy under the trees by the lake. The trickling water of the shrine was the only sound in the still, windless night and their footsteps were loud in the eerie silence. Brian looked up toward the city and saw the dark light emanating from the sky above the city, and the black, fog slowly drifting down from overtop the city walls.

"We did not save even one," Willem said with a dejected look upon his face.

"We did not save even one," Calthas commented as he emptied the last drop from his flask, then put it away with a sigh.

"Why would Stroma abandon us?" Willem asked. "Something must have happened."

Brian scouted around the edge of the clearing, looking and listening for some sign of Pike or Elric, but they had both disappeared. Since they had left no trail behind, he surmised that they had both followed the path of the stream, which meant they had at least wondered off in a direction that was away from the city, and he hoped they would keep going, for the lands around Maramyr had become unfriendly territory.

"Do you know what has become of Stroma?" Calthas asked, as Brian returned to the two mages.

"I think he is dead," he said.

"That's the simplest answer," Kroma rumbled in his thoughts.

"Then all is lost," Willem said with a frown. "Without Stroma, we cannot destroy the books and we cannot stand against the dark god."

"No," Brian replied. "All isn't lost, so long as we live. There must be a way to do these things."

"True," Calthas said. "Though I'd say our chances of surviving for much longer just went from slim to none. The magic of the priesthood, the spell up there that covers the entire city, it feeds off of everything, every person, every living creature, and all of that power feeds the dark god. He has become even more powerful, while we have been weakened."

"What do we do now? Willem asked. "Where do we go?"

The air around them began to shake and the trees rustled at the sound, then with a loud crack, Stavros appeared. Brian took a step back, not sure if the mage was a friend or foe, but he relaxed when he saw Willem and Calthas smile.

"Stavros," Calthas said. "Are we glad to see you. What has happened?"

"All kinds of things, and most of them bad," Stavros said, darkly.

"Is it true that Stroma is dead?" Willem asked.

"Yes," Stavros said, then he turned and looked at Brian. "Who is this?"

Calthas answered for him.

"Stavros, this is Brian," he said. "This fine fellow rescued Willem and I from the city. I believe the Lady sent him, though he seems to have a personal relationship with the dark god, who no longer inhabits Cerric, but has taken over Queen Calexis."

"Cerric is no more?" Stavros was surprised.

"Could you explain?" Brian asked Kroma, a little confused at the appearance of the mage, who looked uncannily like Aaron's uncle Tarnath.

"Certainly, my boy," Kroma replied.

"Cerric is dead," Kroma said, speaking through Brian, his voice deep and powerful, shaking the earth around them. "He was murdered by Calexis, when she took the power of Kenra into herself."

Stavros sensed the change in Brian and felt the power that surrounded them.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"I am the mountain," Kroma told him. "I am the rock and the stone that flows."

"Kroma," Stavros said.

"What is left of me," he said. "This young man rescued me from Cerric's corpse, where Kenra thought to leave me trapped after stealing most of my power."

"Can the young man hear me while I talk to you?" Stavros asked.

"I can hear you," Brian said.

"Well done, lad," he said. "It seems you've done a lot of rescuing today."

"That is an understatement," Kroma rumbled. "The boy is a defender, of the old lines, and though he knows little of the ways of the world, he is an honorbound champion. I could not have been more fortunate, though I feel the hand of the Lady in some of this."

"The Lady goddess, she is subtle in many ways," Stavros said.

"It has ever been her way to move quietly like a gentle breeze, nudging certain things without forcing them, though she has the power of a gale when roused," Kroma said. "I prefer to be more direct, but for now I lack the power to take the battle directly to this Calexis."

"You are far from powerless," Calthas said.

"I have but a sliver of what Kenra has taken from me," he said. "It may be possible to regain what I have lost, but it will take time, and time grows short. Calexis is already far more powerful than any god, and her army grows stronger with the magic of the godswords."

"Godswords?" Calthas was curious.

"Ancient weapons," Kroma explained, drawing the sword from his belt. "Ages ago, the godswords were gathered up and hidden away and their purpose forgotten, that they would not be sought or used by anyone. The other gods kept this secret from Kenra, but he has discovered their purpose and unearthed a number of these weapons."

"What is their purpose?" Calthas asked.

"They steal the power of the slain and bestow that power upon the wielder," Stroma said. "I can see why such weapons would be dangerous."

"May I examine it?" Calthas asked, looking at the sword.

Kroma flipped the blade around and handed it to the mage.

"You may keep it," he said. "These two axes are of the same fashioning, the metal is silvergold, stronger and more resilient than steel, and the jewels take the energy and turn it to the purpose of the one who controls the blade."

"Fascinating," Calthas said. "I wonder if the magic in these swords might be used against the spell that has been cast over the city."

"That is well worth investigating, and the Lady has told me of one who might have some insight into such magics," Stavros said, then he turned to the warrior god. "And what of you?"

"It has been a thousand years since I set foot upon the world," Kroma said. "I must regain some measure of my power and gather forces to stand against the shadow and the armies of the dark god, but first I must travel to the ancient keep, known to the people of this time as White Falls."

"The seat of Lord Kaleb, the House of Alaran," Stavros said.

"Yes," Kroma replied. "The keep is under siege, thus it appears the people there must also be rescued. Calexis intends to attack the elven lands, then she will turn her attention to the people of the sand."

"I have come from the Ansari," Stavros told him. "They are aware of the return of he shadow but they have not said what they intend to do."

"Ansari do not intend, they simply do," Kroma said. "There is something you are not telling me."

"There is another," Stavros said. "One who might challenge the dark god directly. Stroma and the Lady both believed this to be true but a piece of the shadow grows within him and seeks his power."

"I know of this, for I have glimpsed some of Kenra's thoughts," Kroma said. "The one of whom you speak is a warrior and gifted with great power. That much I was able to learn, though I know neither his name nor his face, which also means that Calexis does not know either."

"His name is Aaron," Stavros said.

"Aaron?" Brian asked. "Stavros, have you ever met someone named Tarnath?"

"I have," Stavros said. "He was my twin brother."

"He taught me how to fight," Brian said. "Me and Aaron. He taught us both."

Stavros looked at the young warrior and saw his brother's stance, and the same quiet and observant look in his gaze, and he felt his own eyes water a little. It seemed that his brother still had a hand in things, even though he was gone.

"Tarnath mentioned you to me in one of his letters," Stavros said. "He would be proud of your actions, I think."

"Thank you for saying that," Brian said. "You said he was your brother?"

"Tarnath died, some time ago," Stavros said. "It had to do with a senseless fight over land, between some petty baron and Lord Kaleb, the entire mess caused by Cerric, meddling in local affairs. I learned later from the girl, Ehlena, that Tarnath died protecting her and Aaron, thus his death has great meaning, for they both will stand against the shadow."

"Ehlena?" Brian remembered the girl. "You know her also?"

"Of course," Stavros said. "She is the Lady goddess."

"Brian," Kroma rumbled in his thoughts. "I would appreciate it if you did not think about my mother in such a way."

"Your mother?"

"I will explain later," he said.

"We must leave at once. This place is no longer safe," Kroma said, feeling the tremors of booted feet roving outside the city walls, heading in the direction of the shrine. "My power is meager, but if you seek my ear, strike your heel upon the stone and speak my name."

Stavros nodded then he turned to Willem and Calthas.

"Shall we?" he said, then, with a powerful crack, the three of them disappeared.

"How can Ehlena be your mother?" Brian asked the moment they were gone, and Kroma explained as they walked back toward the vines that led to the tunnels.

"I was curious about this until the mage explained who she was, for her voice is different but her power is the same. To answer your question: Ayra has become Ehlena, and Ehlena has become Ayra. They have become one."

"Like how you talk in my head and we can hear each other's thoughts?"

"No."

"Oh."

"I agree, Brian, she is very pretty, but really, must you?"

"Sorry.
You said you wouldn't listen."

"It is very hard not to notice such thoughts."

"You're right. I'll try not to think about that."

"You are failing miserably."

"Sorry. I can't help it."

"Just kill me."

"Come on, she is beautiful."

As he hurried through the tunnels, all Brian heard was the faint echo of a deep, exasperated sigh as the god within him became silent.

EPILOGUE

The wind howled across the frozen land, whipping ice and snow toward the molten fire and stone that burst from the earth. Dragons circled the sky and howled with rage as the flows became violent and the mountains shifted and cracked. A slow, steady rumbling, like the beat of a great drum, reverberated through the land, echoes of power from far away.

A gust of wind trailed through the smoke and ash, dropping deep between the rocky peaks, to a hidden place where five young dragons stood guard, and two women stood at the mouth of a cave, listening to the pounding of the earth. A few stray snowflakes fell upon them, cold against the heat of their skin, and the ice and wind swirled before them then it turned pale like ice as a young woman appeared before them, dressed in snow and ice, and her skin pale as fallen snow.

The dragons growled and roared and the two women stepped back, wary of an attack, one of them drawing a dagger from a strap on her thigh, and the other curling her lip, baring her pointed teeth.

"Who are you?" Ariana demanded.

"Speak. Name yourself," the other young woman said, her voice mixed with the powerful growl and dangerous threat of a dragon.

"I am known to dragonkind as the wind, by the name Ayra," Ehlena said, and the young dragon ceased her growling, but she remained wary.

"I hear nothing from you," she said. "Your thoughts are complete silence."

"Do you not hear the wind in the sky?" Ehlena asked, her voice like a powerful whisper, soft yet as deafening as a dragon's roar. She let go of her power and smiled. "You are Vale, daughter of Vana. I have heard your song."

"These things mean nothing to me, but you seem familiar," Ariana said. "Who are you?"

"We met once, long ago. You knew me as Ehlena, Princess of House Valamyr. You are Queen Ariana, and I have come to find you, for I have need of your help."

"You need my help? What is this about?" Ariana asked, lowering her dagger.

"It is about your brother, Aaron."

NOTES

'A Broken Throne' is the fifth novel of the 'Book of One' novels, which is anticipated to be a seven book series. The sixth book in the series is expected to be ready in Spring 2014.

Follow Jordan Baker at Amazon's Author Central:

http://www.amazon.com/Jordan-Baker/e/B00CF9YWR6/

Or

Visit Electrum Books for periodic updates and information
http://www.electrumbooks.com

Thank you for supporting the 'Book of One' series and the writing of Independent Authors.

Table of Contents

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

NOTES