《Children of the Gods (a dragon fantasy)》


 1 - The Spires

    Malik stood at the edge of oblivion, bonespear outstretched like a long, menacing claw extending from his arm, and he faced the winged jackal without fear.


    Sweeping spires of rock jutted into the darkening heavens like fingers of giants, reaching up to blot out the sun.


    Malik¡¯s chest heaved with labored breaths, blood spilling from a gash in his side.


    But Malik had traded blood for blood.


    Eyes wild and bloodshot, the jackal uttered a low growl, and circled, eyes never leaving Malik¡¯s, the creature¡¯s spirit consumed by a beautiful, primal rage.


    All Malik Jorensein¡¯s childhood, all his training boiled down to this moment.This dance of survival that all living things faced.


    He took a step to the side, sending small bits of gravel plummeting through the skies to the valley below. The jackal matched the movement, hair bristling along its bony spine.


    Malik and the beast faced off on a small ledge, little more than a splinter, jutting out from one of the sacred floating mountains at the heart of Malik¡¯s island home. A space of ten feet at most. In this moment, that space was the entire world.


    Malik took one more step, his spirit focused on the beast before him, eyes focused on not slipping over the edge.


    The jackal took one step, pawed at the ground.


    ¡°I fear neither life nor death. I am a descendant of the gods¡­¡±


    Malik calmed his breaths, pushed back against the terror. Focusing on the magic pulse at the heart of the world.


    Hish.


    He reached for the power, drawing the very breath of the gods themselves into his spirit.


    Malik took a step forward, daring the beast to make its move. He thrust out with his spear, and the jackal snarled. Vicious fangs flashed, but it kept its distance, waiting, evalutating.


    Blood seeped from the wound in its neck.


    Malik had come so close to the killing blow. He could not afford to make another mistake. With drew back his weapon and threw with all the hish he could muster. Threads of energy erupted behind the spear with the force of a war bow.


    The winged jackal sprang.


    The bonespear shot through the air with lightning speed. Straight into the beast¡¯s front shoulder.


    The world slowed, floating hulks of rock becoming a blur.


    Claws lashed out, scraping Malik¡¯s calf as he launched himself upward. Malik soared over the length of the creature¡¯s body, his jump reaching past human capabilities.


    Her landed behind the attacking beast and spun.


    The jackal¡¯s injured shoulder shuddered as it turned on him from the edge of the spire.


    Malik reached for hish with the focus of a striking serpent. The magic force collided with the winged jackal as it fought to regain its balance at the edge of the precipice.


    With a howl, it fell into the skies.


    Malik peered over the edge of the spire. The jackal expanded its primal wings¡ªthick webs of skin lining its chest that flashed outward¡ªand slowed its fall.


    Jackals didn¡¯t have the power of actual flight. They could only glide. At times, catch strong gales of wind to climb short distances. It would take the beast hours to return to this height, but it would not perish.


    And for this, Malik was grateful.


    The winged jackal was a sacred beast. One of four on the Isle of Faltara. And their deaths were not a cause for celebration.


    But to best one today, of all days, was a great honor. Malik had passed the first true test of his Ascension.


    It would not be the last.


    With deep breaths of relief and exultation, Malik watched as the winged jackal caught a draft and veered toward another mist-cloaked spire a few hundred yards across the expanse of sky. A pair of cloaks were halfway up the massive shard of rock.


    Two more of the eighteen young men and women from the island clans making their Ascent this day. Malik hoped the jackal would land far below them.


    But not too low either. For the lowest spire was fixed to the peak at the heart of the valley below, where all their families watched and waited.


    Through the mists, Malik could make out faint dots in the valley below. Wind rushed through his hair and the forces of the world tugged at his chest like heavy chains, drawing him down.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He pushed back from the edge and rose to his feet. Above him, more spires jutted into the mists, some little more than boulders, others as large as an entire village. They hovered above the peak of the Mountain of Souls as though caught in some invisible web in the sky.


    And today, it was Malik¡¯s task to climb them.


    An Ascent could be made by several paths, all required climbing at least four of the larger floating shards of rock.


    It was the true test of Malik¡¯s people. A test that risked everything


    Every year, Faltari youth plummeted to their deaths, just as his Uncle Pender had. Just as¡­


    Above, he glimpsed something dark shifting with the mists. Wings perhaps. But he couldn¡¯t be sure. The thought filled with fear and exhilaration. He was nearing the summit.


    A peal of laughter filled the skies and jolted him from his revery.


    Malik spun.


    A crimson-cloaked figure dropped from further up the spire. The boy drew up at the last moment and landed in a crouch on the ledge, softening his landing with a flourish of hish.


    The boy¡¯s forearm was tattooed with a dark set of bony wings. Dark paint streaked his cheeks, signifying the Dragyr clan.


    ¡°And here, I thought you might actually make the kill, Jorensein,¡± Aram Tulsein said on a derisive laugh. ¡°A damn shame. Thought you might show some spine after your brother¡¯s Fall. Some things just run in the bloody family, don¡¯t they?¡±


    Malik swallowed all the foul things he¡¯d like to say.


    A boy shouts back. A man lets words glance off him like wind.


    The shamanic mantra came unbidden. Drilled into his brain over the past two years. Guiding him. Chastening him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you for being a coward,¡± Aram went on. ¡°One son is a fluke. But it¡¯d really be a bloody embarrassment if our own shaman lost both his sons to the Ascent, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    Malik shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve got climbing to do, Aram.¡± He brushed past the boy and reached for holds on the face of the spire. He looked up. The ledge Aram had jumped from was his next target.


    A dark blur sailed over his head. Aram leapt back up the entire distance in one hish-fueled maneuver, landing on the next ledge with ease. Malik loathed the boy¡¯s talent. Typical Dragyr. All half-convinced they could pull off true flight.


    ¡°If that ledge were ten feet higher, he¡¯d be dead.¡±


    Malik turned at the familiar voice.


    Riese Torendeil clambered over the ledge, blonde hair pulled back in a series of tight braids, one side shaved to the skin. She flashed a smile and sauntered over to him. Three claws were tattooed on her left wrist, and she wore the dark gray cloak of the Jackal clan.


    ¡°Figured you¡¯d try to go it alone,¡± she said, clapping him on the shoulder. They¡¯d separated on an earlier spire, and he was relieved to see her.


    ¡°Best hope I leave some eggs up there for you!¡± Aram shouted down from the ledge above, then, he leapt again.


    ¡°That bastard¡¯ll be lucky if he don¡¯t take the never-ending Fall,¡± Riese murmured. ¡°Better him than us, ey?¡±


    Two years ago, Malik would have voiced his assent right alongside his friend. But he knew it wouldn¡¯t be proper of a future shaman.


    But Riese was right. Some would die today. Most of them promising young men and women with bright futures.


    Just like Derrin.


    Malik pushed the thought aside.


    Focus.


    It might not be worth dying to be the first to reach the summit. But Malik would be damned if he¡¯d be the last.


    ¡°Let¡¯s climb,¡± he said.


    ***


    Joren hung back at the edge of the crowd, murmuring prayers softly. Prayers his father had taught him since his youth. Prayers he¡¯d passed down to his daughter, and both his sons.


    The prayers of the Faltari shamans.


    ¡°Spirit of life. Spirit that dwells in my own spirit and that of my ancestors. Draw near to my son. Remind him of the power that dwells within him. In all things. May he remain calm and wise. May all those who Ascend brush against the glory of the gods. Whether they rise or fall.¡±


    Joren stood on a boulder, and released a thin stretch of blue cloth into the wind and watched it writhe with the currents like a feathered serpent.


    The breath of the gods drawing his prayer up into the heavens.


    Half the island was gathered in Kalengal Valley at the base of the spires. All donned the colors of their clans. All but Joren, who wore the colors of all four sacred beasts: winged jackal, sabercat, feathered serpent, and dragyr.


    Like all shamans. Like his son would wear, should he survive the ordeal.


    A warm presence drew near from behind. Joren knew Madri¡¯s aura from any distance. Her fingers interlaced with his own, and her warmth seeped into his spirit, pushing back against the autumn chill.


    Together they gazed silently up into the mists. The floating islands of stone were little more than blurred masses in the haze.


    But with his true sight, Joren sensed much more. Distant spirit resonances, slowly bearing themselves higher into the skies. Rising to the task before them, as Faltari youth did every year at the solstice.


    Madri knew better than to ask for a report, but the same could not always be said for the other parents of the Ascending.


    ¡°Please,¡± whispered a young mother named Pelesa of the Saber clan. ¡°Can you sense her?¡±


    Pelesa had stood dutifully at the base of the boulder, anxious for news of her eldest daughter¡¯s progress. This was not the first time she¡¯d pestered the shaman.


    The Ascent was as much a test for parents as it was a rite for their children. First-time parents were always the worst worriers at every stage of life.


    Joren did not avert his gaze from the spires, but Madri released his hand. Dimly, he could sense his wife comforting the young mother.


    He extended his true vision higher into the mists, beyond what his eyes could see. A sudden burst of clarity jolted him. He smiled dutifully.


    ¡°Aram Tulsein has passed through the summit,¡± he announced.


    Fervor spread over the valley in a great hum.


    ¡°That¡¯s my boy! Aha!¡± the boy¡¯s father shouted with unabashed pride. ¡°First Ascendant! Just like his brother!¡±


    How a man liked Tul Eriksein became elder of the Dragyr clan, Joren would never fully understand.


    But First Ascendant was always met with excitement, no matter who the climber. It brought hope for all the others. The valley filled with cheers.


    More resonances made their way higher.


    ¡°Ulgar Fenrisein has reached the summit,¡± Joren said.


    More cheers. It was rare to see a climber from the Feathered Serpents at the front of the pack.


    ¡°Leesa Rimadeil.¡±


    Over the next ten minutes, several more sons and daughters of the island reached the summit of the final Spire.


    ¡°Petyr Bromsein!¡± Another elder¡¯s son, which was always a relief.


    ¡°Therin Magnasein¡­ Lera Pelesadeil.¡±


    The young mother¡¯s gasp of relief brought joy to Joren¡¯s heart. And then, at last¡ª


    ¡°Riese Torendeil¡­ Malik Jorensein.¡±


    Madri and their daughter Sura both joined him again on the boulder.


    As more children reached the summit, the tension in the valley pressed on Joren¡¯s spirit, anxiety quickly crowding out the joy at the successful climbs¡­


    Not a single child had Fallen, but it left little peace for the Faltari gathered in the valley.


    For they all knew that the Ascent was the easy part.

 2 - Gate of the Ancients

    Malik¡¯s fingers ached as he heaved himself over the final ledge to the summit. Standing atop the world, his heart raged in his chest, but his spirit soared.


    For hours, his existence had consisted of nothing but the sharp stone beneath his fingers. Hardly daring to consider anything but the next series of holds and maneuvers to reach the next ledge, all stringing together a harrowing path up the face of the Spires. But now¡­


    ¡°God¡¯s breath!¡± Riese murmured a short distance away. Standing upon a small boulder, she gazed out beyond the Spires.


    Malik scrambled over to her, and stepped up.


    All at once, the world spread out to eternity, stretching all the way to the horizon in all directions. Beyond the spine of mountains that formed the heart of the island. Beyond the glacial walls of ice, towering forests, sweeping green plains, and winding fjords. From here, the length and breadth of the entire Isle of Faltara reached all the way to the Dornin Sea, which shimmered at the horizon.


    It was the same sea Malik had seen from the shore all his life. He¡¯d known it was large, but from this height, he was reminded just how magnificent it was. His island was nothing but a spearhead of rock plunged into the ocean by the gods. Malik had never felt so small.


    A gust of wind swept over him, rushing through shaggy strands of hair, sending shivers down his arms and spine. Malik took one long, focused inhalation, taking it all in. The grandeur of the gods.


    Malik let loose a cry like the howl of a wolf.


    Riese¡¯s voice joined his own.


    A chorus of pure exhilaration. The only experience that came close was the triumph of Malik¡¯s first hunt. This was freedom¡ªa world without end, without clans, without tragedies and unwanted shamanic roles¡ªhere, at the top of the world.


    Well, not quite the top.


    The zenith of the final spire was about one hundred yards across, an expanse of rocks splayed out in shards, as though an ancient beast had pounded the surface of the floating mountain with giant mallets. The spire narrowed to a razor¡¯s edge ahead, as it made one last gradual ascent to the true peak. A flat stretch about ten yards across.


    And there, the Gate of the Ancients rose.


    A bony arch of stone wide enough for three men to walk with hands outstretched. A wisp of cloud brushed up against the interior of the archway, clouds stretching and vanishing into the center as though drawn into the heart of a whirlpool.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand around gawking!¡±


    Malik grinned at the familiar voice. Yuri Alwensein clambered over the top of the peak, chest heaving. He¡¯d taken a different route. The boy was stronger than Malik and Riese combined, but he was also approaching their combined weight, and on an Ascent, even strength could become a weakness, if paired with mass. Though Yuri would have found far less trouble with a winged jackal. He¡¯d survived an encounter with a sabercat in the icy north.


    Malik and Riese both pulled Yuri into an embrace once he¡¯d moved away from the edge of the spire.


    ¡°That¡¯s supposed to be the¡­ easy part?¡± Yuri asked, glancing back at the precipice and shaking his head.


    ¡°Mum said it¡¯s all a matter of perspective,¡± said Riese. ¡°Sections of the Ascent challenge us all in different ways. But hey, I¡¯m glad you caught up with us for the next section.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ uh, me too,¡± Yuri said, his raspy words turning to a cough. He stooped over, hands on knees, and took in gaping breaths.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s actually better to stand straight,¡± Riese said. ¡°Gets more¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, go to the Abyss, Torendeil!¡± Yuri waved her off with a paw of a hand, grinning all the while.


    The Ascent was a complicated endeavor. All the climbers set out at once, and might help one another at various stages¡ªthe three of them had stuck together on the first spire¡ªbut ultimately, each youth was responsible for their own Ascent, and took the path which suited their own strengths.


    But all three of them had found one another for the next stage of their trial, as they had so many other times in their childhood. Before Malik¡¯s fate had changed.


    Malik took one last glance at the horizon. The sun had drifted behind a mass of clouds, but remained high in the sky. They were making good time.


    When he turned back, a blue-cloaked girl from the clan of the Feathered Serpents was scrambling over the edge.


    ¡°We should hurry,¡± Riese said.


    Yuri nodded, breaths still heavy.This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Riese clapped the large boy on the back with a grin. ¡°You first on the Blade¡¯s Edge?¡±


    Yuri huffed and motioned for her to lead.


    Riese Torendeil moved lithely on strong and sure limbs as she maneuvered between boulders on the uneven terrain toward the last challenge on this side of the Gate. Malik followed, and Yuri brought up the rear.


    When Riese reached the razor-thin span of rock known as the Blade¡¯s Edge, she paused. It was only about fifteen or twenty feet across, with a gradual rise, but the rock was too narrow to stand with both feet planted. Riese studied the Blade for all of three seconds, and stepped forward, holding her arms out for balance, gingerly twisting her lower body to accommodate each footstep, soft pulses of hish offered added stability.


    It was over in seconds. Riese turned around and grinned.


    ¡°Oh, come on!¡± Yuri said.


    ¡°Show off,¡± Malik said.


    ¡°Just go quick. It¡¯s actually not that bad. Like walking a string of stones across a creek or something.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± said Yuri, ¡°at the edge of a damn waterfall.¡±


    Malik was tempted to take in the height on both sides, but caught himself. It was no different than any other maneuver on this climb. One rock to the next.


    He drew one long inhalation and slowly released it.


    One step. And then another. That¡¯s all any journey is, he recited in his mind.


    For how much he¡¯d resented his shaman training these past two years, his father¡¯s words had provided surprising encouragement during this ordeal.


    He focused on the next stretch of rock, and stepped out, planting the ball of his right foot. The Blade was so narrow, he could not place his entire boot on it. Malik didn¡¯t pause. Once he was sure his foot was set, he shifted his hips slightly and brought his left foot forward.


    No rock crumbled or shifted. The Blade was firm beneath his feet. Perhaps even more solid than all the previous steps on the peak. He took another step. Then another.


    Riese was right. If not for the height, this was just walking across stones. Or the trunk of a felled tree. He¡¯d crossed such terrain countless times.


    Malik drew on hish, using traces of magic to steady his balance.


    In the corner of his vision, he caught a glimpse of clouds, swelling around the edge of the peak.


    ¡°Almost there,¡± Riese said.


    Malik¡¯s focus narrowed to the next step. Two more. And Riese pulled him to the safety of the true peak.


    His heart thundered in his chest as he dared a look down, and found himself laughing at the absurdity. It was a four thousand foot drop on either side to the lush valley below.


    ¡°Well, shit, Jorensein! Look at that, you didn¡¯t die!¡±


    Malik turned to find Aram Tulsein emerging from the Gate of the Ancients, hands on the straps of his rucksack, a cocky grin stretching wide.


    Riese and Malik both scowled, until they noticed the lump in Aram¡¯s pack. Aram had found his prize on the other side of the Gate.


    Malik glanced back at Yuri, who was nervously examining the path across the Blade.


    ¡°This is bloody stupid,¡± Yuri muttered as he dropped to the ground and began the slower, but safer route, straddling the Blade with both legs, and shimmying across.


    ¡°Oh gods!¡± Aram groaned. ¡°Let me cross first, if you¡¯re going like that.¡±


    Yuri huffed. ¡°Go to the Abyss, Tulsein!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m the one who should worry about that.¡± Aram chuckled at his own joke.


    ¡°We were here first,¡± Malik said. ¡°And besides, you got plenty of time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± Aram beamed proudly, pulling his rucksack a little tighter against his shoulders. ¡°First Ascent. First prize. And I¡¯ll be the first to the bottom too.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that!¡±


    Blue-cloaked Ulgar Fenrisein emerged from the Gate, as though stepping from the other side of a waterfall. One moment, there was only the expanse of sky behind the stone archway. The next, Ulgar was walking toward them, his own pack weighed down by the precious cargo within.


    Aram¡¯s eyes flashed. Without another word, he sprinted toward the Blade and leapt. Though invisible to the naked eye, Malik sensed the rush of hish as the boy powered his superhuman leap over his friend¡¯s head.


    Yuri howled. ¡°Watch it!¡± Halfway across the Blade, he hugged the mountain fiercely.


    Malik and Riese both drew sharp breaths.


    But Aram landed safely on the other side of the Blade, turned and waved. ¡°Have fun sitting around, Ulgar!¡± And with that, Aram took off, leaping between boulders as he crossed the peak.


    Ulgar was tall and built, not quite stocky, but all muscle. A fisherman¡¯s son.


    He paused at the edge of the Blade, clapping his knee irritably. ¡°Hurry up, Yuri! Come on! Come on!¡±


    Yuri pulled himself forward. ¡°Don¡¯t even think about jumping over me.¡±


    Ulgar groaned. ¡°I wanna win. I don¡¯t have a death wish.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Yuri, ¡± Riese said. ¡°You¡¯re almost there.¡±


    Yuri did not take his eyes off the Blade in front of him, pulling in deep breaths between each maneuver. When he got close enough, Malik and Riese both reached for his hands and pulled him to the safe expanse of the true peak.


    ¡°Good work,¡± Malik said.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    Without a word in parting, Ulgar set off the other way across the Blade.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Riese said. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving.¡±


    The three of them crossed the strangely flat peak and stopped just outside the archway. Only from this distance could Malik detect what lay within the span of the Gate. A thin membrane, almost like water stretched the entire space. Malik could still see through to the cloudy skies on the other side, though the view was distorted. Darker.


    Riese reached out and brushed her hand through the expanse. They all gasped as her fingers vanished from the second knuckle, and then reappeared when she withdrew her hand.


    She examined her fingers closely, grinning. All in tact. ¡°Incredible!¡±


    ¡°What do you think it is?¡± Yuri murmured.


    Malik knew. With his shaman training, he could sense it. ¡°Some sort of concentration of hish. My father says the Ancients had a way of harnessing it into something physical.¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re the future shaman,¡± Yuri said with a shake of his head.


    Malik nodded, though as always, something about the statement sent a sinking feeling deep through his gut.


    Riese glanced back. A queue had formed at the Blade now as three more climbers began their crossing.


    ¡°Okay, enough analysis, boys. Let¡¯s go get our eggs.¡±


    Riese stepped into the archway. There was a brief moment when her entire body seemed to linger, like a rippled reflection in water, and then, she was gone.


    Malik didn¡¯t wait another second. He stepped into the Gate of the Ancients.


    ***


    Joren drew a long breath as his son¡¯s spiritual resonance vanished from his sense.


    It had been nearly three decades since Joren¡¯s own Ascent. He had never returned, as was custom, even for a shaman.


    The Ascent was a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage.


    Joren released his breath, whispering one last prayer.


    No cloths were released this time. This was a prayer only for himself.


    For his last living son. As Malik entered the realm that had stolen the life of his brother.

 3 - The Other Side

    A dark plain stretched to the horizon, walled on either side by jagged black peaks. Like the stone at the top of the spire, the rocky ground looked like it had been crushed and churned by ancient beasts. For all Malik knew, that was the best explanation.


    A chill ran down Malik¡¯s spine, though the air remained utterly still. But what frightened him most was the absence he felt in his spirit.


    ¡°Should it feel so cold?¡± Yuri asked aloud.


    It was not dark like the night. Though there was nothing resembling true light either. A permanent dusky grey dimness permeated the world, emanating from no visible source that Malik could tell. There was no sun, no moon or stars.


    ¡°It¡¯s not cold,¡± Riese said. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ another force.¡±


    ¡°Your senses are trying to sort out the difference,¡± Malik said. ¡°Between our world and this.¡±


    His father had offered few instructions about the world beyond the Gate. All his life he¡¯d heard about this place, but always in vague terms. Like tragic storms, something that changed them forever, and something they did not wish to think on any more than they must.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the Abyss now,¡± Malik said. ¡°There is no hish here.¡±


    Yuri shuddered.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure?¡± Riese asked.


    ¡°Go on and try accessing it,¡± Malik said. ¡°You won¡¯t find any power to draw on. Not here.¡±


    Riese closed her eyes and focused. Her fair skin looked strangely corpse-like in the perpetual gloaming that haunted the underworld.


    When Riese opened her eyes, she caught Malik¡¯s gaze and nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, but¡­ there¡¯s something here,¡± she said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel anything,¡± said Yuri.


    Malik felt nothing either, but he nodded at Riese. ¡°Another power rules this world, my father says. Don¡¯t try to access it.¡±


    ¡°Guys,¡± said Yuri, glancing back at the portal, about one hundred yards behind them. The archway looked just as it had in their own world. The watery center rippled as two more climbers stepped through.


    Riese pointed toward a worn path up a rise of dark scree. The silhouette of bony wings flashed against the starless, cloudless sky, sending shivers down Malik¡¯s spine. He had never fought the strange dragyrs that lived in both their world and dead one they¡¯d fled.


    ¡°Guess we know where we¡¯re headed,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Should we split up?¡± Yuri asked.


    Malik shook his head. ¡°There will be eggs for all of us.¡±


    ¡°We made it this far,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not gonna fight to be the loner again,¡± Yuri said.


    At that, all three of them laughed, and began their final Ascent.


    The path wended steeply up the foothills of the dark range of mountains. Ancient steps had been formed over the steepest places. Though it was nothing like the climb up the spires, Malik¡¯s breaths grew heavy fast without hish to lighten the load, as though stones were being slowly added to his pack as he climbed.


    Malik glimpsed more wings in the distant sky, and a ferocious flapping echoed from somewhere above. He wished he hadn¡¯t lost his spear in the ordeal with the jackal.


    Yuri and Riese drew their spears at the sound of the dragyr, though the creature banked and disappeared from sight. Malik wondered if the creatures had to work harder here as well.


    He¡¯d only ever seen dragyrs from a great distance. He¡¯d been ready to face one at the top of the spires, but it seemed they¡¯d all retreated to their breeding grounds in the Abyss as the first climbers summited.


    Malik wasn¡¯t sure if it was better to face them first or not.


    Once the dragyr disappeared from sight, the world grew so still, Malik could hear individual stones grinding with their footfalls.


    At last, they reached a ledge, which led to a narrow canyon between much larger peaks. The ground was still littered with loose scree, but it was easier going on even ground. They¡¯d encountered no other climbers, though Malik knew there were several of their peers ahead of them.


    The canyon wended through the mountain for another hundred yards before they approached an opening. Malik longed for his connection to the heart of the world. On the island, he might have felt the resonances of the dragyrs. Or the other climbers. Here in the Abyss, all he had was his human senses. And his friends.


    Bonespears at the ready, Riese and Yuri crept toward the opening, treading as softly as they were able. Malik took slow, deliberate breaths.


    All battles are fought first in the mind, with or without magic.


    His father¡¯s wisdom came unbidden.


    For so many years, the mantras had been drilled into his mind. After his brother¡¯s death, all the more¡ªonce it was clear Malik would be the succeeding shaman of the island, whether he wanted it or not. There were times he resented the words.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    But now, they brought him courage.


    And focus.


    The canyon opened into a narrow mountain valley. Lone pillars of stone jutted into the air, the sides strangely smooth. Random blades of rock jutted upward. It was not until Malik spotted the remains of a tower, complete with balcony and arrow slits up one side, that he understood just what he was looking at. A dragyr was perched on the balcony railing, long black neck craned. The smaller kin of dragons eyed them as they approached, but remained statue-still.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Yuri muttered as they neared the tower.


    ¡°This was a damn fortress,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Like they got in the Attican Empire?¡±


    ¡°It was a city,¡± said Malik. The ruins filled the entire valley, reminding him of the innermost crypts on his own island. An entire ancient burial chamber that had belonged to the First Ancestors of the island. An underground lake of bones. And this was what they had fled.


    His father had warned him not let his mind linger on the implications of this place. ¡°There will be time after a safe Descent.¡±


    A sharp cry resounded in the distance. Wings flapped hard somewhere out of sight. A warrior groaned.


    Malik steeled himself, hand hovering at the hilt of his dagger¡ªhis last remaining weapon¡ªthough the skies above them remained clear.


    The dragyr perched on the central tower gazed out over the city, neck rotating. Some sort of sentinel. The creature periodically let out a piercing shriek, but remained where it stood. Watching.


    Even in the ruins, the remnants of ancient roads were still evident. The city was set in a grid-like pattern, branching evenly from one main thoroughfare. The main stretch of road was wide open and led to the tower in the heart of the city.


    They strode silently, their footfalls muffled, as though sound worked differently in this world.


    More cries echoed from somewhere up ahead. Flesh tearing. A weapon scraping against talons or teeth. Some Ascendant pitched in a desperate battle. Gravel grinding beneath boots. Moving fast.


    Malik motioned the others toward a narrow lane littered with debris.


    ¡°Here! Quick!¡±


    Riese didn¡¯t hesitate, but Yuri stared up the main road.


    ¡°Come on!¡± Malik hissed.


    Riese and Malik both latched on to large arms and pulled their friend off the main thoroughfare. Just before they retreated out of sight, Malik glimpsed a boy up near the tower, emerging from another lane. At a desperate run.


    Sharp cries echoed all across the ruined city.


    The three ducked behind an enormous chunk of crumbled building. Wings rushed somewhere overhead. The boy sprinted into view, golden cloak billowing behind him. Malik recognized him as the son of Saber clan¡¯s elder, a boy named Petyr Bromsein.


    A dragyr shot after him. Just before he passed out of sight, Petyr stumbled.


    And the creature dove.


    The boy¡¯s cries echoed across the city as the dragyr slashed his back with long talons. The beast failed to latch on to him, though, and shot past. Then, another dragyr shot from the other direction and swooped down for another attack.


    Petyr spun, mouth twisted in terror, barely managing to deflect the creature with a manic slash of his bonespear. The creature soared past, banking for another attack.


    Malik turned to the others. ¡°We can¡¯t leave him.¡±


    Riese hesitated. ¡°There may be more. This could kill our chances.¡±


    ¡°And he will be dead.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your father talking,¡± Yuri said. ¡°This is our Ascent, for god¡¯s sakes!¡±


    The first creature swooped down, talons slashing the boy¡¯s arm, ripping his shirt to threads.


    Malik turned from his friends, and drew his dagger. Unlike his spear it was Kirithian steel. A gift from his brother the year before he died in this place. ¡°You two do what you have to. So must I.¡±


    Riese sighed. ¡°Dammit. At least use a weapon fitting the task.¡± She handed him her bonespear, and pulled her pale hunting bow from her back.


    Yuri moaned. ¡°Maybe I should¡¯ve gone solo after all.¡±


    Malik took one focused breath. Even the air in this world felt different, as though he were drawing less sustenance from it.


    A sharp cry echoed.


    Riese brushed past him, nocking an arrow to her pale hunting bow. ¡°Now!¡±


    They sprinted from behind their cover.


    Riese¡¯s arrow struck the attacking creature in the wing. Just before it reached the Sabertooth boy, the dragyr veered, though it remained in flight. The next attacked.


    Malik leapt in front of Petyr, and jutted Riese¡¯s spear upward. Talons slashed. He thrust, and his spearhead lodged in the creature¡¯s leathery chest, wrenching the handle from his grasp. The dragyr swept upward, then, dropped.


    Yuri¡¯s spear pierced it through the throat, and it collapsed onto the ruined street.


    Petyr regained his feet in time to meet the second creature. Riese fired off a pair of arrows. One glancing off its spine, the other lodging in its shoulder, where the left wing met its body. It lurched upward, flapping furiously. The arrow crunched and went flying. Petyr ducked the attack, and the creature disappeared over a rooftop.


    Malik and Yuri sprinted over to the fallen dragyr. The dark winged creature was about ten feet in length, skin like a dark lizard. Eyes empty. It didn¡¯t move as they neared, and dark blood gushed over the stone.


    Yuri removed his spear, still in tact, from the dragyr¡¯s neck with a disgusting splucking sound. And quickly turned to the sky. But the second creature seemed to have had enough for the moment.


    Riese helped Petyr to his feet.


    Malik¡¯s spear was snapped in half, the blade lodged deep between two of the creature¡¯s ribs. It took some wrenching, and some assistance from Yuri, but he managed to free it.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said to Riese.


    She shrugged. ¡°Keep it.¡±


    Malik was left with a rudimentary axe-like weapon. With this, plus the dagger on his hip, he hoped it would be enough. He stowed the remnant weapon on his back once more and turned to Petyr.


    The boy¡¯s shirt was tattered, right arm dripping blood.


    ¡°May I?¡± he asked, gesturing to the wound.


    Petyr nodded, and Malik took hold of the boy¡¯s wrist, examining the extent of the damage. The wound was deep, but the flow of blood seemed to be slowing.


    Riese took hold of this sleeve, and Petyr instantly tensed.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right,¡± Malik said.


    ¡°Just don¡¯t move,¡± Riese said.


    Carefully, she slipped her hunting blade into the fabric of the boy¡¯s sleeve near the shoulder, gripping the shirt tightly, drawing it against the bonedagger. Jackal bone was remarkably strong, and Riese was always one to tend well to her tools. The fabric peeled away from his arm in one long cut, and Riese removed it. She grunted as she ripped into the fabric again.


    When she finished, she handed Malik a thin ribbon over a foot in length. Malik tied the cloth tight¡ªbut not too tight¡ªabove the wound. Riese handed him a second piece of sleeve that hadn¡¯t already been bloodied, and he wrapped the arm as best he could.


    Petyr flexed his hand, wincing slightly. ¡°Think I can still climb down the spires?¡±


    ¡°Just need to get out of this place,¡± Malik said. ¡°Your body will take it from there. Just don¡¯t start down too quick. Make sure you¡¯ve healed.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Petyr said, rising to his feet. He shifted his pack on his shoulders. Malik could make out the rotund shape of what lay inside.


    ¡°Guys,¡± Yuri said, eyes on the bleak skies. ¡°We need to go.¡±


    The Saber boy gripped Malik¡¯s wrist. ¡°Two streets back from the tower, shaman. Turn left. Go three more streets. Turn right. There¡¯s an entrance with six huge pillars. There¡¯s more of them in there. Up the stairs. Just don¡¯t look the faces in the eye.¡±


    A cry echoed across the dead city.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Malik said. ¡°Er, what faces?¡±


    But Petyr was already hurrying away, staggering across shards of black stone.

 4 - Temple of a Dead World

    The resonances of young men and women flowed in and out of Joren¡¯s awareness, as they passed through the Gate of the Ancients. Each one a distant flame in Joren¡¯s sense, winking out as they left their world, like candles in the wind.


    Beyond, they were invisible to the shaman¡¯s spiritual sight, until the climbers returned from that dead place, and their resonances roared back with the fervor of full life. For a moment, their spirits burned even brighter, having tasted true darkness¡ªthe absence of the breath of the gods.


    Every Faltari adult gathered in the valley had once walked the same path. Out of their living, breathing vibrant island world, and into the bones of a distant past. It was their rite of passage. A pilgrimage to remember where they¡¯d come, so that they might lead their people into better future.


    Three climbers fell during Joren¡¯s own Ascent. Two lost in the Abyss itself. One on the climb back down.


    The children did not always return in the same order they entered, for many reasons, that need not mean death.


    But when Therin Magnasein and Lera Pelesadeil returned before Petyr Bromsein, his mother refused to leave Joren¡¯s side.


    Madri tried to console her, but Petyr¡¯s mother clambered up the boulder and would not leave. She stood beside Joren, waiting for her shaman to deliver her son¡¯s fate.


    Joren opened his eyes and turned. Her greying blonde hair whipped around her face.


    He clasped her shoulder and smiled. ¡°Your son has returned from the Abyss.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank the gods,¡± she murmured, hand leaping to cover her mouth. Joy and fear coalesced into a sob, and then, relieved laughter.


    Joren nodded to her. As she made her way from the boulder, he returned his focus to the Gate of the Ancients.


    Two more resonances followed soon after Petyr. Leesa Rimadeil. Then a pair of Feathered Serpent youths. They had followed Malik and his companions through the Gate. But they returned first.


    And all at once, he felt the same fear as Peter¡¯s mother.


    He doubted anyone would have guessed it looking at him, but Joren¡¯s heart wrung inside him, and he fought the urge to clutch his chest.


    He did not pray, now.


    For the only gods that might reside in that dark shell of a world had fallen long ago. And they¡¯d already stolen one son from him.


    ***


    Malik followed Yuri past the pillars Petyr had described, through a crumbling antechamber, and they entered a series of wide corridors. The halls in this place were vast and lined with statues.


    Entire walls were engraved with elaborate figures, etched in filigree. Malik was immediately struck by the light in this place. Just as it was outside, this building contained no visible light source¡ªno lanterns or torches¡ªthe same dusky light permeated these halls. Despite the convenience, the uncanniness of it left Malik with a creeping sense of dread.


    ¡°We need to be quick,¡± Riese said. ¡°There must be some sort of central chamber.¡±


    ¡°What is this place?¡± asked Yuri.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s a temple,¡± said Malik, his eyes settling on a towering figure on one of the walls. They were shrouded in wispy tendrils of shadow, hovering in the air before what appeared to be a great crowd.


    The three fanned out down the main hall, investigating smaller corridors and doorways, picking their way over fallen shards of stone. There were slits high in the towering ceilings, but Malik felt that it did not account for the strikingly consistent lighting.


    There are no shadows, Malik realized.


    He kept his half-spear out in front of him. It was so quiet, he could hear his companions breathing from halfway down the chamber.


    The halls bore no smell that Malik could detect either. As the shaman¡¯s son, he had journeyed through the musty burial halls beneath the Mountain of Souls. Perhaps this temple was so old, it had lost all sense of life.


    Though damaged, the place retained remarkable detail. Walls were carved with a precision beyond the capability of any tools found on the Isle of Faltara. Though Malik was aware that there were things his people forsook by choice. There were more advanced civilizations in distant lands, but the sheer magnificence of these ruins was made all the more apparent up close. Entire columns formed out of what appeared to be one massive stone, complex patterns etched deep. Figures¡ªhuman and full-grown dragons, along with other strange beasts he didn¡¯t recognize¡ªarrayed in lines and crowds. Ships sailing across skies. Creatures gathered around bursts of light.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    It was an ancient civilization at the peak of its might and power.


    The past holds many warnings, his father had taught him, or temptations, depending on your disposition.


    ¡°Up here,¡± Riese whispered.


    Malik retreated back the way he¡¯d come. Riese motioned from the end of the main corridor. Yuri caught up quickly, and they followed her to the end of another hall.


    The three of them formed up at a doorway about the height of two men, lined with a pair of dragon statues. Prismatic light poured out from the doorway, far brighter than anywhere else in the temple.


    They entered a vast circular hall with a dome towering over a dais at the center. Walkways radiated out from the dais with rows of benched seats in between. The chamber was nearly the size of a village, several thousand feet across at least, and the peak of the dome must have been two hundred feet high or more. The peak of the dome itself opened up to the grey skies beyond, an enormous window at least twenty feet across. But that was not the source of the strange multi-colored light that filled the temple.


    At the center of the dais, the focal point of the worship chamber was a wide bowl of shimmering stone. It was set high enough that Malik could not see what lay inside. But all three of them knew. The bowl itself bore the same shape, and glowed with a fierce effervescence.


    ¡°Holy shit.¡±


    Malik and Riese both jumped at Yuri¡¯s sharp whisper.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath!¡± Riese muttered. ¡°You ass.¡±


    The large boy laughed. ¡°Sorry. Just never imagined anything like this when my parents spoke about their Ascents.¡±


    Malik glanced around the chamber, but it was utterly still. No wind from the windows, not even the distant cries of dragyrs, elsewhere in the city.


    Riese led the way down one of the aisles, and Malik and Yuri followed. Nothing stirred as they made their way across the expansive hall.


    Malik marveled at how preserved the room was. Unlike the outer corridors, there was hardly any damage to the stonework. No cracked pillars, or crumbling doorways, not even any dust. Which seemed impossible with an open window to the skies. The dome itself was impeccable, painted in gold and silver. Malik felt as though a procession of worshippers might file into the hall at any moment.


    A circle of four steps wrapped around the circumference of the shimmering dais. The chamber echoed back the patter of each footfall as they approached. Four intricately carved pillars encircled the dais, reaching all the way up to the rim of the dome.


    But Malik¡¯s gaze was drawn straight to the bowl, which was even more radiant up close.


    The half-shell was formed of tiny colorful tiles of stone, like scales, intricately etched with the forms of dragons in flight. It was the most incredible work of art Malik had ever seen. Not that there was much on the Isle of Faltara.


    The bowl spanned roughly fifteen feet across, set upon a platform of white marble. Two sets of short white steps extended on either end of the shell.


    Immediately, Yuri began climbing one. Riese motioned for Malik to take the other.


    Malik nodded to her, and took the final steps of his Ascent.


    His heart pounded against his ribcage. He¡¯d been so focused on the logistics of the climb, he¡¯d hardly let himself picture the prize at the end. Of course, he¡¯d seen the ancient dragon eggs once a year throughout his childhood, as he witnessed the Ascension ceremonies of generations before him. But it was always from a distance.


    As his eyes crested the edge of the bowl, he drew a sharp breath. Within, there were at least fifty eggs the size of a human head. Each shell contained hundreds of tiny scales, like the hide of a sand serpent, and each scale contained gradient shades of blues and greens and purples and reds. The eggs shone with an otherworldly radiance that was brilliant, but never blinding. The only thing Malik could liken it to was the pearls sometimes retrieved from oysters in the tidal pools surrounding the island.


    Malik glanced up once to find Yuri grinning as he reached for a violet egg. Malik glanced from egg to egg before settling on an emerald one just out of reach. He hefted himself over the lip of the bowl and stretched out his fingers.


    The scales themselves were so fine at the surface, the ridges felt like little more than creases of skin, and though cool to the touch, Malik was overwhelmed with a sense of warmth. It was something spiritual, the way he felt when he drew on the breath of the gods back in his world. Since arriving in the Abyss, he¡¯d not felt it. But within the hallowed shell of this egg, the power of the gods remained. The egg itself weighed only a few pounds, far lighter than any stone of comparable size, though the shell felt as sturdy as the hardest stone.


    Yuri had already retreated back to the dais, and Riese stood across the bowl, reaching out for her own dragon egg. A dark crimson one with nearly black undertones.


    Malik pulled the rucksack from his shoulders, wrapped the egg in a shirt he¡¯d brought along, and stowed it inside. The moment his fingers released it, a chill coursed over him. The absence of hish once more. He eased the pack back onto his shoulders and stepped back down to the dais.


    As he turned around, he found Yuri staring up at one of the pillars surrounding them. He¡¯d taken little note of the pillars when they arrived. At first glance they had appeared to be more of the same designs as the rest of the temple¡ªsmooth stone etched with a lighter colored filigree. But now, there were faces engraved up and down the columns. Men and women, all sleeping or praying, eyes shut.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Riese hissed, tugging on Yuri¡¯s arm. ¡°Petyr said don¡¯t look at them, remember?¡±


    Yuri did not take his gaze away from a woman¡¯s face at eye level. Transfixed, he took a step toward the face.


    Malik couldn¡¯t help himself. He followed his friend¡¯s gaze. The woman was beautiful. So life-like. Lips full. And her eyes¡ª


    They fluttered.


    Then, spread wide.

 5 - Dont Look

    A chill shot through him, but Malik could not look away from the woman¡¯s face. She had been rendered with unfathomable realism. Smooth skin drawn over high cheekbones and a rigid jaw. Full lips pursed as though they¡¯d just released a breath. Radiant eyes formed of intricate milky-colored stone.


    The faces had always been on the pillars, Malik realized, an ancient spiritual understanding washing over him. They had just not been ready to see. The woman¡¯s eyes had always been open. For this world was not dead at all.


    Filled with a magnificent spiritual power. Something entirely unlike the power he¡¯d known all his life. And yet, not so different from hish at all.


    And though he knew, dimly, that he ought not to continue looking, Malik could not bring himself to look away. As though he¡¯d fallen asleep and slipped instantly into the flow of a dream.


    The woman¡¯s face began to transform, grey stone permeating with color. The lighter filigree somehow expanding over the features of the woman¡¯s face, brushing over her skin like strokes of paint. Her skin turned pearlescent. A gradient of a thousand hues. Cheeks radiant. Her lips parted. Drew breath. Eyes blinked and shifted, taking in the room. Then, met Malik¡¯s gaze.


    A smile stretched her lips, and Malik felt warm inside. The face felt familiar, though he couldn¡¯t place it exactly.


    Another face shifted above her, and Malik¡¯s chest seized as his attention was drawn upward.


    It was the engraving of a young man with chiseled features and sad, dark eyes. Also familiar, but this time, Malik knew precisely why.


    Derrin Jorensein had never completed his Ascent, and now, Malik knew why. His brother¡¯s stony eyes grew wide, shifting sharply to the side. Malik followed his gaze, and an ache surged deep in his spirit.


    In one of the seats beyond the dais, a corpse in late stages of decay was propped up, mouth gaping in an endless scream.


    Malik¡¯s entire body went numb. He knew it was his brother¡¯s body, and beyond it, in seats further back in the room, he spotted more. Dozens. Hundreds.


    How had they not seen them when they¡¯d entered?


    Or smelled them?


    Malik¡¯s eyes drifted back to the stone visage of his brother in the pillar. Their eyes locked. Dark pupils widened over stark white eyes, staring straight through him. The pupils shifted. Darkness spread over the entire eye and then drifted away from the statued face entirely.


    Tendrils of shifting darkness slithered from his brother¡¯s face like spiders reaching out to envelop their prey.


    Malik jolted backward. His head thudded against the stone. A hand dragged him back.


    ¡°Come on, Malik!¡±


    Riese¡¯s voice.


    He jolted from his revery. Riese was dragging both him and Yuri back from the pillar. Malik scrambled to his feet, dread shooting through him, suddenly aware of the incredible danger. He heaved at Yuri, and the boy turned over, trembling.


    Malik and Riese grabbed on to Yuri¡¯s arms and pulled, and together, the three staggered off the dais, tumbled down the steps into one of the temple aisles.


    Webs of darkness wrapped around the pillars. The stone faces had vanished from the stone, but a lone, hovering figure clothed in slithering shadow reached toward Malik.


    Free of its snare, Malik understood now that it was not his brother at all. It was a malicious spirit. A wight.


    Riese seized his wrist and pulled, jerking his gaze away.


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    The three sprinted down the aisle as fast as they could manage. Voices filled the temple behind them.


    Dozens. Hundreds. Chanting something in a foreign tongue Malik did not recognize. Impossibly, he could distinguish one distinct timbre among them.


    His brother¡¯s voice echoed in his skull, the same way he haunted Malik¡¯s dreams. Rage. Sorrow. Jealousy. Despair. Resentment. All the twisted emotions associated with his fallen brother surged to the surface of his mind.


    Derrin, his father¡¯s favorite. The next shaman. The kind and patient and steadfast one.


    And weak!


    Malik hated himself for that thought the moment it came. But it was no less true.


    All his elder brother¡¯s roles suddenly fell to Malik. The restless boy who, until two years ago, would never have shied away from fights with arrogant pricks like Aram Tulsein. Who was made for adventures like the Ascent in a way his brother never was.


    He jolted back into the moment. Pushing back against the intruding thoughts.


    You¡¯re made for this! You can get out of here!


    These were not his father¡¯s words. They were his own.


    This was his test.


    Not Derrin¡¯s.


    Not his father¡¯s.


    They¡¯d nearly reached the halfway point across the enormous chamber, where a wide aisle ringed the entire hall. They¡¯d followed the path they¡¯d come from. But Malik knew that was not the shortest path out of this temple.


    In the corner of his vision, he saw shadowy figures shooting from the dais.


    Malik pointed to another aisle, as they neared the central ring. ¡°Over there!¡±


    Heart racing, Malik led the way along a new path through the worship chamber. Riese was the fastest of the three and reached the door first. She heaved at the stone handle, and it groaned.


    Malik reached next, and pulled with all his might. It shifted again, but did not open.


    The first wight shot toward them, a blade of shadow formed in its wispy hand. Yuri huffed to catch them. And Malik knew his friend wasn¡¯t going to make it.


    Malik let go of the door and drew his brother¡¯s dagger from his belt. He ran back toward Yuri, blade raised high. Yuri¡¯s mouth gaped, confused, but he lumbered past. Malik swept dagger and met the shadow blade.


    There was a sharp scraping sound as their weapons met. The wight spun away and veered back for another attack. The next creature dove, and this time, Malik didn¡¯t go for the blade. He drove the dagger straight into the wight¡¯s torso. As the tip of the blade met the creature¡¯s ethereal form, a chill shot down the hilt. The dagger disintegrated in his hands.


    The wight vanished.


    Riese pulled him to his feet. Yuri had shoved the door wide enough for them to squeeze through. More wights shot across the vast haul, shrill cries echoing off the high ceilings.


    The three hurried out of the main temple and emerged back in the antechamber. Shrieks echoed behind them as they spilled out of the doors and hurried down the stairs onto the ruined street.


    Yuri tripped, tumbling down the final steps. Malik and Riese helped him back to his feet.


    No wights emerged from the temple. They waited, bracing for the ghastly monstrosities to pour out of the stone of the front staircase. But they did not follow. Far in the distance, a dragyr soared over the city, its back to them, and passed out of sight.


    A burst of laughter broke the silence.


    Riese covered her mouth, and then giggled again.


    Relief flooded over them, and all three of them laughed. Malik instinctively felt at the lump in his pack, suddenly worried his prize might have slipped out during their flight form the temple.


    They each had what they¡¯d come for.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about you guys,¡± Yuri said. ¡°I always heard cities were beautiful from the trader¡¯s tales. But I think they were all full of shit.¡±


    Malik grinned.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get home,¡± Riese said.


    They hurried through the ruined streets of the dead city, and made for the Gate of the Ancients once more.


    ***


    Dark clouds poured over the mountains, shrouding the upper spires entirely in muted light, though it was still the middle of the day. Gusts of wind tore across the valley.


    Fewer parents asked Joren for news of their children¡¯s fates. Most retreated for the cover of the forest at the edge of the valley.


    Most of the climbers had begun their descent. The leader, Aram Tulsein, was already halfway down the penultimate spire. Everyone in the valley knew it. They could spot his crimson cloak even from this distance. Several more resonances were making their way down, somewhere in the clouds.


    So far, not a single climber had fallen.


    But had any been lost in the Abyss?


    It was still too early to tell.


    Madri and Surel remained close. Joren could feel the tension in their minds, fear pressing in like a spiritual weight.


    And the shaman felt that weight pulling against the barriers of his own mind, picking away brick by brick. He fought to focus on the resonances of the other climbers. Fought to push back the memories that encroached on his mind.


    It was like his family was cursed. First, his younger brother. And then, his eldest son. And now¡­


    There was nothing that could be done.


    Madri¡¯s hand grasped his as he stood on the boulder, looking up at the Spires. He closed his eyes. His body relaxed. Tension evaporated.


    And all at once, relief replaced the fear. A warm and unmistakable awareness swept over his senses. Joren choked back a sob and squeezed his wife¡¯s hand back.


    ¡°They made it out!¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank the gods,¡± Madri whispered, a sob catching in her throat.


    Surel hugged them both.


    Joren opened his eyes, gazing up into the dark clouds sweeping over the spires.


    ¡°Be wise, my son,¡± he whispered. ¡°This is your greatest test.¡±

 6 - Descent

    When they emerged from the Gate of the Ancients, Malik was overwhelmed with sensations. Wind howled across the peak, rushing up from the sky canyons formed between spires below. Icy rain whipped at his face, drenching his cloak in an instant.


    There were no other climbers in sight. Back in the Abyss, they¡¯d heard at least two other climbers fighting dragyrs in the ruined city as they fled the temple. So they weren¡¯t the last, but Malik had a feeling they were in the back of the pack. Squinting against the wind and rain, they carefully picked their way down to the Blade¡¯s Edge.


    Malik and Riese followed Yuri¡¯s method of straddling the narrow span of rock and shimmying across. The wind stung Malik¡¯s face as he crossed the spine of rock, and his slick hands could barely feel their grip they were so cold.


    He¡¯d hoped to wait back on this side of the Gate to refresh his inner store of hish after a couple of hours of depletion in the Abyss. But with a storm bearing down, they all feared getting stranded up high, if conditions turned worse.


    So, Malik suffered the numbness and waited for his spirit to replenish.


    The expanse on either side of the Blade seemed to pull at him, luring him to look out at the expanse to the valley far below. But when he glanced over once, the world below was entirely shrouded in churning clouds, and the fear dissipated.


    Riese pulled him up as he reached the other side of the Blade. They scrambled over boulders to the edge of the upper spire.


    This side was slightly lower and sheltered, and all at once, the wind stilled. Splintered rays of light peered through cracks in the sky. The rain softened to a fine mist.


    ¡°Maybe not so bad after all,¡± Yuri said, blowing on his hands.


    ¡°Weather is weird up here,¡± said Riese. ¡°It could turn back just as sudden. Whatever you do, keep moving.¡±


    ¡°But be safe,¡± Malik cautioned. ¡°Better to be last than dead.¡±


    The other two nodded, knowing that no one understood this imperative more than Malik. They peered over the side of the peak. The upper spire was manageable enough to face forward at the outset, but Malik knew it would soon fall away to veritable cliffs in sections.


    Malik spotted a golden cloak near the base. Maybe they weren¡¯t falling as far behind as he¡¯d feared. The dome of clouds that hovered gave the impression they were alone on an island in the infinite sky. But in reality, they were four spires away from their family, their people. And most of their peers were close.


    Still, the Ascent, in the end, was their own to accomplish.


    Riese led the way down, then Malik and Yuri.


    The upper section was nothing but rock, and the face of the mountains was much more stark than the lower spires, which were strung with more vines and other vegetation. Down climbing proved manageable at first, especially as Malik began fortifying his movements with hish, now that hisinner source was replenishing. With subtle surges, he pressed his fingers into the face of the mountain, strengthening his holds, while simultaneous lightening the load with threads of magic pressing up on his body from below.


    Halfway down the first spire, Yuri veered down an easier path to avoid a steep decline, choosing the longer path that wrapped around the other side of the spire. Malik fought to keep up with Riese, but she was the better climber to begin with, and she¡¯d been honing her skills at down climbing these past two years, while he¡¯d been torn between his training and learning the intricacies of inter-clan politics and traditions and spiritual matters with his father.


    He lost sight of her when the spire turned to a sheer drop, and he was forced on all fours, leading with his feet. The wind had eased up though, and Malik lost himself in the movements. This foothold, then that crack for his right hand, then this divot in the stone for his left. Another foothold. Each maneuver involved fluid coordination between his mind, body, and spirit. Sharp attention, quick decision-making, precise movements, focused magic¡ªevery piece of the process utterly vital. The ground leveled off, and Malik was relieved to see Riese¡¯s dark cloak ahead, lingering at a ledge at the base of the spire.


    Malik maneuvered his way to her, fingers beginning to feel the strain they¡¯d endured all day on this climb.


    ¡°Don¡¯t wait for me,¡± he murmured, breaths heavy.


    ¡°Needed to catch my strength and plot my moves before the big Leap.¡±


    The peak of the next spire loomed in a shroud of mists across an expanse of at least twenty feet, rising past the height of their ledge. If it had formed any other way, the Ascent would be impossible. All the remaining spires were strung together by webs of thick vines. But the only way between the uppermost spires was to jump.


    Malik¡¯s heartbeat quickened as he took in the skies below the precipice. This ledge had proved an easy target from the opposing peak on the Ascent. The ledge was over ten feet across. A relatively simple jump from the higher point of the opposing spire.


    But there was no ledge to target from this side, just the sharp sides of a levitating mountain.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°Save your hish to slow your fall,¡± Riese said. ¡°That¡¯s what my father said.¡±


    Malik drew in slow, focused breaths. The mists were thickening again, swirling around the base of the spire, making it harder to see the other side of the chasm, and the rain was picking up.


    ¡°The angle looks worse from up here than it really is,¡± Malik said with a nod, more to remind himself than anything. ¡°That¡¯s what my father said. Aim. Trust the forces of the world to carry you down.¡±


    Riese shook her head back and forth. ¡°Well, here goes nothing.¡±


    Blonde braids flapping behind her, she sprinted across the ledge, gaining as much speed as possible before the edge. Riese¡¯s body shot out from the island of rock, cutting through the mists. She sailed down and down toward the steep face of the second spire, before slowing suddenly, with a precise surge of magic, and grabbing on to a large rock.


    Her hands shifted, fingers slipped.


    Malik¡¯s heart seized in his chest. But Riese only dropped a few more feet before catching herself on another boulder¡¯s edge.


    Her laughter echoed across the expanse.


    Malik breathed out with relief. ¡°Thanks the gods!¡±


    ¡°Rock¡¯s a bit slick!¡± she shouted back. ¡°Damn rain.¡±


    ¡°You good?¡± Malik asked.


    ¡°Your father was right, slope¡¯s not bad over here. Easy enough to stand.¡±


    Once you make the jump, and don¡¯t slip off the edge of the world, Malik thought.


    He drew back, and before his mind had a chance to consider the other possible outcomes, he took off. His boots crunched¡ªthree, four, five steps¡ªand then, he leapt.


    Malik¡¯s stomach lurched up into his chest. The sharp wind pelted his face, laced with rain. His cloak billowed out behind him, body arced sharply downward as the rock stretched out below.


    His vision shifted, and so did his body, as he oriented to the opposing angle of the next floating mountain. Then, all at once, there was Riese, ducking beneath his feet. Malik sailed past her. His stomach jolted with terror.


    Even without hish, he¡¯d jumped too far.


    The rock face rolled beneath his feet. The angle of the mountain opened up, and Malik feared he would fly right over into oblivion.


    ¡°Use your bloody magic!¡± Riese¡¯s voice echoed somewhere behind him.


    And Malik reached for the power behind the world, drawing threads of hish into his body in a rush of opposing force, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He drew more, pressing his body downward.


    His feet hit first, glancing off the mountain, nearly sending him tumbling. Malik focused with all his spiritual might, drawing more hish, pressing his body harder into the face of the spire. And then, he drew up sharply with a final surge of magic.


    The tips of his fingers latched on to the edge of a sharp boulder. Pain lanced up his fingers and into his arms, but he didn¡¯t let go. His feet found purchase. His vision swam.


    Finally, he breathed, clutching the side of the mountain desperately.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath, Malik!¡± Riese¡¯s voice echoed from far above where he stood.


    He peered into the mists, cursing her grey cloak, but then he glimpsed her golden hair near the top of the spire. Fifty yards above him at least.


    ¡°Gods damn it,¡± he muttered, resisting the urge to pound the mountain itself.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Riese hollered, her voice echoing off the upper spire.


    ¡°Y-yeah. I think so.¡±


    Malik¡¯s fingers ached. He drew in more hish and channeled it into his hands, and numbness washed over them. He couldn¡¯t even see the ledge he¡¯d jumped from any longer. Malik tried to figure how he¡¯d managed it. Something about the angles between the two mountains. Or the mists. The entire topmost spire was nothing but a looming shadow, swallowed in thickening clouds.


    His eyes settled on Riese, and he calmed his breaths.


    The line between life and death is but a thread.


    But Malik had landed on the side of life once more. And for that, he must be thankful.


    You¡¯re made for this, he tried to remind himself.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­ can go that way!¡± Riese shouted. ¡°There¡¯s¡­ sort of chasm. You shot over it!¡± Her words were getting caught in the wind.


    Shot over a chasm?


    Well, that would help explain why his perceptions had suddenly felt so wrong. At this angle from below, he couldn¡¯t even see it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll meet you further down!¡± Malik shouted up. ¡°Just stay safe!¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll be just¡­ shaman! It¡¯s you¡­bloody worried about.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m good! Really. Let¡¯s see who makes it first, ey?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s like that is¡­ I swear to¡­¡±


    The wind picked up, and Malik lost the rest.


    The rain was falling harder, but the way this spire was angled, he could actually walk for a good distance. Near the base he¡¯d have to down climb, and choose between several smaller spires that branched out. Malik moved in a near-crouch, using his hands for balance, trying to conserve his hish, and navigated his way down over sharp boulders.


    He couldn¡¯t shake Riese¡¯s words. It¡¯s you I¡¯m worried about.


    Two years ago, he felt certain she never would have said that. And yet¡­.


    How had he misjudged that leap so badly? It was a simple enough mistake. But the fact that Riese worried for him like some child drove him suddenly to the edge of rage.


    Damn you, Derrin!


    He hated himself for thinking it, but it was the truth. He knew Riese could have been down to the bottom by now. She¡¯d stuck close to Malik and Yuri because she feared her friends wouldn¡¯t survive without her.


    ¡°Be the last down,¡± his father had said the night before. ¡°There¡¯s no shame in that. We shamans don¡¯t play the same clan games.¡±


    Tell that to Derrin! Maybe if you¡¯d let him train properly, he would still be here.


    Or maybe his brother would have been lost to the Abyss no matter what, and all this was just a raveling in his mind. Triggered by that bloody spirit in the Abyss.


    But Malik had survived the Abyss, survived his fall. He¡¯d made it this far, and he was determined not make another costly mistake again.


    Storm clouds thickened around him. Rain poured steadily, though the wind had calmed once more. A faint voice echoed from the mists ahead.


    The ground began to even out beneath his boots, and he spotted the thick twists of vines branching out from the base of the spire. In the midst of the haze, he spotted a cloak. The golden yellow of the Sabers. No, the blue of the Feathered Serpents.


    Two cloaks writhed violently in the wind, out in the expanse between spires.


    Here at the base of the spire, the wind lashed out with torrents of rainfall. Malik had been sheltered on the other side of the spire, but as he ventured out on to the thick tangle of branches that extended to the next mass of rock, the storm came back with a vengeance.


    Malik crossed the remaining distance carefully, picking his way along the web of vines.


    As he neared, he spotted two climbers. One clung to the side of a vine as thick as a tree trunk. Another climber latched on to his arms. It wasn¡¯t until he was right upon them that he could make out who it was.


    Petyr Bromsein stooped on his knees, directing hish to keep himself planted as he pulled on the fallen climber¡¯s arms. The boy feet dangled over a sheer two thousand foot drop into drowning skies.

 7 - Crossing

    His entire body on high alert, Malik grabbed a thin length of vine and supported himself as he made his way across the vine bridge to the other climbers. Riese had to be close behind him, but the base of this spire branched off to three smaller spires¡ªthree different possible descents¡ªand he knew the chances she¡¯d cross here on this side were small. This fell to him.


    Malik pushed back against all awareness of the precipitous fall on either side of him, the harsh elements waging war all around. His world became nothing but each precise movement. Each section of vine, ensuring each hold was firm before he moved farther.


    It wasn¡¯t until he was feet away that Malik recognized who it was hanging from the edge of the vine bridge by his fingertips¡ªUlgar Fenrisein. The Feathered Serpent boy had been hot on Aram¡¯s heels back at the peak.


    ¡°Just bloody pull me up!¡± Ulgar¡¯s voice had gone hoarse.


    How long was he here before Petyr reached him?


    Malik¡¯s gut wrenched as he inched closer, now on all fours. Petyr shifted suddenly, letting go of Ulgar with one hand. His other barely managing to keep his own body in place.


    Ulgar croaked. ¡°Don¡¯t let go, don¡¯t let go!¡±


    Malik crawled closer, the wind whipping his body so strongly that each movement was a labor. He matched Petyr¡¯s stance, wedging his feet firmly into the crease between two massive vines, enhancing the hold with an opposing force of hish.


    He reached out into the sky, nothing but vines and magic keeping him from plummeting to the valley below.


    ¡°Gods! Hurry!¡± Ulgar lashed out with his free hand, nearly grasping the vine, but missing. Petyr roared with the added strain of the sudden movement.


    Malik tried to grab Ulgar, but he was just out of reach. Petyr groaned as he fought to hold on to the other hand, without slipping himself. Malik reached again, but still, couldn¡¯t reach Ulgar¡¯s other hand.


    ¡°Try swinging one more time,¡± Malik shouted into the howling wind. ¡°Wait until we¡¯re ready this time! Petyr, on my mark, you pull back as hard as you can. Ulgar, reach up. Focus any hish you¡¯ve got left on that one move.


    ¡°I-I¡¯ll try!¡±


    ¡°Okay, one, two, THREE!¡±


    Petyr heaved his body back with a scream. Malik could feel the surge of magic beside him. Ulgar groaned as he reached, though it was clear he had drained his hish long before. But Petyr had just enough strength to bring Ulgar in reach.


    Malik stretched out as far as he dared, latched on to Ulgar¡¯s free hand, and pulled.


    Ulgar grabbed the top of the vine bridge with both hands, and screamed as he tried to drag himself up, while Petyr and Malik pulled him by the shoulders to safety.


    Chest heaving, Ulgar rolled on his back and emitted something between a laugh and a sob.


    The wind sent the entire branch swinging, and Malik could barely see the spire he¡¯d come from. But away from the edge, the movement was not treacherous.


    ¡°Good work,¡± Malik said, patting Petyr on the back. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I was just about to cross,¡± said Petyr, ¡°when the wind picked up. I heard a cry out here. Found Ulgar hanging by his fingers.¡±


    ¡°My leg,¡± said Ulgar. ¡°Drained my hish trying to heal it enough to make the crossing. Slipped. Used what little was left just to keep holding on.¡±


    Malik looked down. Ulgar¡¯s pants were tattered and bloody. He pulled the pant leg up, and Malik grimaced. Bone protruded from Ulgar¡¯s shin. Blood smeared all over, thick rivulets still forming at the wound.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath! You tried to walk on that?¡±


    Ulgar chuckled. ¡°Well, it was easier with my spear, but that¡¯s gone now.¡± He glanced out into the skies below. ¡°Was trying to keep up with that prick, Aram Tulsein.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t do that to¡­¡± Malik ventured.


    ¡°Nah, jumped too far on the Leap. Used too much hish, and landed in a small chasm in the rock.¡±


    Malik shuddered how close he¡¯d come to a similar injury.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong,¡± Ulgar said. ¡°Aram saw it happen. I was right behind him, and he was all too happy to leave me behind. But nah, this was my own damn fault.¡±


    A gust of wind rushed up from the expanse, sending the web of vines shaking violently. Malik latched on tight to his hand holds, his stomach twisting as the forces of the world pulled at his body. Thick clouds had completely enveloped the chasm between spires.


    ¡°We gotta get off this thing!¡± Malik shouted.


    ¡°Do you think we can make¡­¡± Petyr¡¯s idea drifted off with the next jarring gust.


    Rain pelted at Malik¡¯s face and hands, cold as winter seas. He could barely feel his own body, and his fingers felt raw and swollen.


    ¡°No way we can cross until this storm passes,¡± Malik said, his voice growing hoarse from so much shouting. ¡°Not with his leg like that. We¡¯re only ten yards out. Maybe twenty. Closer to go back.¡±


    ¡°Go back?¡± Petyr asked, incredulous.


    ¡°You wanna wait this squall out here or in the shelter of a spire?¡±


    Ulgar nodded tremulously. ¡°I¡¯m with you, shaman. Already pushed myself too bloody hard.¡±


    Petyr looked back at the looming shadow in the mists ahead, contemplating for a moment. Then, he grabbed on to Ulgar¡¯s arm, and he and Malik helped the Serpent boy to his feet.


    Each step was an ordeal all its own. Rain fell in sheets, biting at Malik¡¯s face, drenching his eyes, so he was forced to squint. The enormous vines that formed the bridge swayed in the incessant wind.


    Malik gripped Ulgar around the back, his shoulder wedged under the large boy¡¯s armpit to help take the weight off his bad leg. Malik steadied their passage as best he could, with threads of hish binding them to the shifting ground. If it were only himself, maybe he might have managed to steady the vines some. But Ulgar was completely drained, and more than once, Malik felt Petyr¡¯s strength fading in the fiercer gales.


    The descent was the most treacherous part, even without a damn storm.


    Malik focused his magic on all three of them, pressing them into the slick ground. It felt like walking on waves, but like waves, there was a rhythm to it. With focus, he recognized the swells of air. They took a few steps, paused, took a few more. Each time, a gust sent the vines swinging, and Malik drew on the power behind the world. The energy of the gods themselves that coursed through all their creation.


    He could feel his strength waning as he channeled the magic. Slowly, it seeped from his spirit, and he feared he might drain himself too quickly. The spire was but a mass of shadows in the mists ahead. There was a jolt as they stepped down, and they stood on the rocky ledge at last.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Ulgar staggered forward and collapsed. Malik and Petyr stooped down and helped him scramble to the back of the ledge. They propped him up in a seated position. It was uncanny how someone so large and muscular could seem so frail. Ulgar shivered as he drew his blue cloak around himself.


    ¡°You done enough,¡± Ulgar said, voice raspy, eyes barely open. ¡°Didn¡¯t have to stop. But I¡¯d be dead if you didn¡¯t.¡±


    Malik nodded.


    Petyr glanced back out at the vines, and then, back at Malik. The wind had died down, now that they were no longer out in the middle of a wind tunnel.


    ¡°Malik saved us both today,¡± Petyr said. ¡°I¡¯d be dead back in the Abyss. Guess I had to return the favor.¡±


    ¡°You should go, both of you,¡± Ulgar said. ¡°Think the storm¡¯s passing already. I¡¯ll ride it out up here till I can heal myself proper.¡±


    Petyr and Malik both gazed back the way they¡¯d come. The vines still shifted, but it appeared to be more mild from here. The long trunks creaked, but held firm and steady. It was extraordinary. Out in the chasm, Malik had feared the vines might wrench out of the base of the spire. But here, they felt as fixed as the mountains themselves.


    Malik focused on the resonance of the air. The wind whistled out in the chasm between spires. The mass of vines swayed, but the walls of rock around the ledge created the illusion of a much milder storm. Probably the only reason any of them had ventured out to begin with.


    It had been calm here before he left, Malik recalled, but the true resonance felt just as violent now as when they were out in the middle.


    This ledge was a deceptive shelter from the true ferocity of the storm. Made even easier to believe by the thick mists, and Malik¡¯s own longing for the safety of the valley below.


    In his spirit, Malik knew the conditions were likely even worse further out in the chasm. They¡¯d only made it a quarter of the way across at best.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we should leave,¡± Malik said.


    Petyr¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°What? We can¡¯t stay here!¡±


    ¡°This ledge is sheltered. I don¡¯t think the storm is passing yet.¡±


    Petyr huffed. ¡°It¡¯s growing dark soon. You want to be stranded up here all night? What about jackals and the cold? That could kill us just as easy.¡±


    Malik glanced up. It was difficult to tell the time in the storm. He tried to think back. He would have guessed it was early afternoon when he exited the Abyss. How much time had passed? An hour? Two?


    Nature is full of illusions, his father had taught him. Fear would have us believe every perception. Wisdom lies in discerning what is real.


    His father usually spoke this when Malik was angry or frustrated. As usual, his father spoke more truth than Malik wished to admit.


    It was too bad time did not give off a spiritual resonance. Malik retraced his descent thus far. It had taken him four hours to make his initialclimb. Most descents went faster, barring hindrances, like jackal attacks and inclement weather. They were about halfway down. It couldn¡¯t be close to dusk yet.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s that late,¡± Malik said. ¡°Let¡¯s wait it out a while. You need to recover your strength, anyway.¡±


    Petyr cursed softly to himself. He paced the ledge. Walked out to the edge of the natural bridge, where the vines drove themselves deep into the base of the spire like the trunks of ancient citadel trees. The Saber boy peered into the mists.


    ¡°Gods damn it,¡± Petyr muttered and strode back.


    ***


    The three boys huddled together, rain drenching their cloaks. Despite the shelter from the wind, the frigid air still cut straight through skin to bone.


    Malik shook with violent shivers, managing to scarf down a strip of salted venison. It was so cold the very act of biting into the leathery meat was agonizing. Malik could feel his joints stiffening, muscles tightening, mind turning inward, withdrawing from the hopeless reality engulfing him. He¡¯d hoped to replenish his strength, but he was forced to focus hish on his own body temperature.


    Mists thickened, as though a great shroud were being drawn tighter and tighter around them. Was it growing darker beyond their nook in the rock? Malik couldn¡¯t tell. But he knew it would only get colder. The Ascent always took place at the autumn solstice. Usually the Isle of Faltara remained temperate for a few more weeks, even in the mountains, but still, a storm this time of year could bring worse conditions than wind and rain.


    Ulgar had resigned himself to his fate. Of the three of them, he remained the calmest. He filled his flagon with rain water sluicing from the rocks above. He sipped and chewed on venison and nuts, focused what little hish he could muster into keeping his body from freezing. Ulgar had accepted his fate.


    Petyr began to pace the ledge again, running his hands up and down his arms ferociously. The Sabers were hardened by the harsh life at the north of the island. They always performed well in the Ascension. And Petyr was an elder¡¯s son. He paused and examined the vines and the storm, and resumed his pacing.


    More time passed.


    The mists held fast. The vine bridge remained steady. The wind was a distant rush beyond their nook at the base of the spire.


    Petyr returned from his pacing and blew warm breath on his hands.


    Malik reached for the boy¡¯s resonance. He felt Petyr¡¯s unease, as his father had taught him over the past two years. A shaman must understand his people more than any other.


    When Petyr spoke, it was no surprise to Malik. ¡°I c-can¡¯t sit around here any l-longer.¡±


    Malik nodded.


    The Saber boy had been wrestling with the decision ever since Malik had convinced him to stay. Doubting Malik¡¯s wisdom even more than Malik himself did. Had he sentenced them to die here on this ledge?


    ¡°Are y-you c-coming?¡± Petyr asked, stepping closer to the vines.


    Malik hesitated. He looked over at Ulgar, but the boy was not paying them much mind. He was focused on his own survival, not wasting energy on anything else.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come check the conditions,¡± Malik said.


    He strode over to Ulgar. Malik stooped down and met his gaze, and Ulgar jolted, as though he¡¯d forgotten he wasn¡¯t already alone. Malik¡¯s insides churned with guilt, but he knew he had to consider his own descent.


    ¡°I¡¯m going out to check things on the bridge,¡± Malik said, clasping Ulgar¡¯s shoulder. ¡°If it¡¯s bad, I¡¯ll come back. If I don¡¯t return, then the storm is letting up out there.¡±


    Ulgar nodded absently. ¡°I t-told you. D-don¡¯t worry about me. I¡¯m here all n-night either way.¡± The boy closed his eyes and drew traces of hish around his limbs like an ethereal blanket.


    Malik turned and joined Petyr. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    With the aid of magic, Malik¡¯s limbs loosened. He was exhausted, but his feet felt strong, and his balance remained firm. His well of magic was low, but his father had taught him to control it better than most youths on the island. To let it slowly seep through him.


    Petyr strode forward with fierce determination, and Malik struggled to keep up. Malik gripped the side of one vine for support and let it guide him forward. Ten yards out, Malik had to climb up, as the vines tangled.


    The wind grew stronger after that, but it was manageable. Even through the mists, Malik could see at least ten feet in front of him. He forced himself to focus only on the vines, quickly plotting each placement of his hands and feet.


    They reached the spot where Ulgar had slipped. The wind picked up, howling somewhere in the chasm above. The vines swayed steadily over the expanse, but Malik never doubted his stability.Perhaps he¡¯d read the storm¡¯s resonance wrong after all.


    ¡°You see?¡± Petyr said, glancing back as they neared another tangle of vines where they would have to climb once more. ¡°Storm¡¯s letting up! I think the mists were worse back there.¡±


    Once he¡¯d ensured a firm hold, Malik allowed a glance outward. In the distance, he glimpsed the twisting shadows of the other natural bridges to the other two spires, somewhere out in the mist and sky.


    Petyr was right. It was clearing.


    Malik reached the base of the tangle of vines, each as thick around as the trunks of hundred year old trees. Three, maybe four of the vines all converged in this spot. Somewhere beneath the mass of growth, Malik suspected there were tiny fragments of floating boulders, as there were between the lower spires. It was the only explanation for how this natural bridge might have formed.


    Petyr clambered up and over the tangled mass of vines quickly. The boy grinned from the top. He motioned for Malik to follow, and turned to carry on, disappearing from sight.


    Malik lodged his fingers deep into a crease between vines and heaved himself over one vine, then the next. All at once, the howling wind filled his ears, and he was thrown into the bridge.


    ¡°Malik!¡± Petyr¡¯s voice was barely audible over the tumult.


    ¡°Your magic!¡± Malik shouted. ¡°Don¡¯t use it up all at¡ª¡±


    The vines swayed, wind rushing over them like the furious shrieks of Akari, grim-god of death and chaos.


    Malik felt as though legions of wights were snatching out with invisible hands, trying to send him up and over this wall of vines into nothingness. Malik dug in his fingers and drew hish into his body, pressing himself into the vines.


    Somewhere in the turbulence, Malik thought he heard Petyr¡¯s voice. But it was drowned out by the onslaught of wind.


    Malik closed his eyes to the storm and focused. Despite the violent gusts, the vines remained relatively steady. Creaking and groaning and swaying, but strong like the mightiest of trees. Slowly, the swaying eased, until the wind was once more a distant drone above.


    Tentatively, Malik released his magic, and loosened his grip.


    He clawed his way further up the wall, peeking up and over the top. Petyr was sprawled out a few yards ahead of him, clinging to the vines for dear life. He lifted his head and smiled, dark hair drifting in the wind.


    Mists engulfed the bridge once more. At the top of the tangle, the wind was stronger, and Malik could not bring himself to climb over the top, to leave the shelter of the tangle of vines. His whole body trembled.


    Petyr staggered to his feet, grinning madly. He gestured toward the shadows ahead. ¡°Nearly there. I thought I saw¡ª¡±


    A gale ripped through the chasm like a feathered serpent, rushing and writhing, colliding with Petyr¡¯s body and sending him sprawling out.


    Malik reached out with hish, but it was too late.


    The boy didn¡¯t even cry out.


    He vanished like vapor.

 8 - Move Through

    A raging pang tore at Joren¡¯s being, as though the gods themselves were pouring his spirit out over hot coals, then drawing him up and plunging him into an icy sea.


    He collapsed to his knees at the edge of the clearing.


    Somewhere, hands clutched at his arms. Somewhere, wind howled, and rain poured from menacing clouds.


    Joren felt nothing except the hollow ache of death, enveloping him, slowly wringing his essence from the inside out.


    In one mighty onslaught of nature, three souls were ripped from the Spires at once.


    Joren did not know how long he knelt there.


    The line between the temporal and the eternal blurred. Moments. Hours. Days. All were one.


    A glimpse of the Great Truth of existence that was all too easy to forget during the banalities of village life on the island¡ªeven for a shaman. A reminder that all their striving¡ªwhether for moments or a lifetime¡ªwere drops in the eternal ocean. And they all would soon be drawn back to sea.


    When Joren opened his eyes, he could already see the mists beginning to dissipate around the lower spires, and he wondered if his spirit had slipped out of his body for a time. Rare, but not unheard of, for a shaman in such sacred moments.


    He found Madri¡¯s hand and gripped it tightly, steadying his spirit with the strength of hers. And then, his daughter¡¯s, who also knelt beside him, her warm hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Malik?¡± Madri whispered, her voice trembling.


    God¡¯ s breath! She¡¯d thought that the reason for his collapse, and he¡¯d left his family fearing for gods knew how long.


    ¡°No¡­ our son lives.¡±


    Joren squeezed his wife¡¯s hand, and she clutched her chest with the other, relief washing over her.


    Joren staggered to his feet, and for the first time since the Ascent began, he withdrew his spiritual gaze from the Spires.


    Three souls lost.


    Three spirits he must tend.


    Three families he must guide through mourning.


    It had been over twenty years since his own Ascent, since he¡¯d become a man and taken on the duties of a shaman. Over the years, many of his duties had grown second-nature, even difficult ones.


    But the moment of death was one that never grew an easier.


    ***


    Even after the winds truly let up, Malik did not move for what felt like an hour at least. He rode out the last gale in the minimal shelter provided by the tangle of vines, somewhere in the middle of the expanse between spires. That little nook was the only reason he hadn¡¯t joined Petyr in his Final Descent.


    It was only happenstance that the gust that had taken the Saber elder¡¯s son had come moments before Malik followed Petyr out into the more exposed section of the bridge.


    Malik¡¯s spirit ached with a ferocious anguish he¡¯d never known before. Not even after Derrin¡¯s death.


    For that had been a distant thing, before he¡¯d begun the path of the shaman. Before he¡¯d learned to sense the resonance of spirits in his own.


    His brother¡¯s death had occurred somewhere beyond his reality, while he waited with all the others in the valley below.


    But this¡­


    Malik kept casting out for the boy¡¯s resonance. Clinging to the hope that by some chance, some rare interference of the gods, the Saber boy had landed on one of the other bridges. Or been carried to the next spire.


    But he knew in his spirit, Petyr was gone. Snatched up by the spirits of death that had filled that foul storm. It took all the courage Malik had in him to force himself out of his shelter, and climb over the top of the wall of vines.


    Wisps of mists still hung in the chasm, but the wind was gone completely. Barely a breeze remained. The sun began to pierce through the veil of clouds, which had turned to shades of white and light grey.


    Malik ventured further along the vines, pressing his feet firmly with threads of hish, until he reached the spot where he¡¯d last seen Petyr.


    It was so cold. So empty. As though the warmth of the boy¡¯s resonance had never been there at all. Malik gazed out into the mists below, where the great green sprawl of Kalengal Valley came into view.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Somewhere down there, a boy¡¯s body was shattered and broken. A boy he had helped in the Abyss, only to escort him to his death on this bridge.


    Malik never should have come out here. They should have stayed with Ulgar on that ledge. Surely, if he¡¯d tried, he could have convinced Petyr to stay.


    There was no way to know. All Malik knew was he should have tried.


    The mists dissipated further. The next spire shifted into focus, the true distance becoming clear for the first time. They¡¯d been well more than halfway across the bridge, only twenty yards from the spire. Malik felt the warmth of the sun on his back, and still, he was frozen in place.


    Malik hated this feeling. Of bearing the last moments of another.


    We all share in this life on the island, his father had taught him. The unique role of the shaman is to share in death as well.


    But Malik didn¡¯t want it.


    His father was made for this. He could walk right up to a mourning mother, unfazed, but Malik could not bear death for his own kin, let alone for someone else.


    It was not just Petyr¡¯s death that tore at his spirit, but his uncle¡¯s, his brother¡¯s. Every damn youth who¡¯d fallen to their deaths from these spires.


    And for what?


    ¡°Oh, thank the gods!¡±


    Malik didn¡¯t turn at the voice. It felt like something from a dream.


    ¡°Shit, brother, you¡¯re nearly across! What are you doing?¡±


    Another voice. Familiar.


    A thick calloused hand clasped his shoulder from behind, and he turned.


    Yuri Alwensein engulfed him in a hug, his warmth enveloping Malik like a fur blanket. Riese pushed Yuri out of the way and hugged Malik too.


    The fog began to lift from his mind, stirred by new confusion.


    ¡°How¡­ where?¡± Cold tears streaked down his cheeks.


    He¡¯d assumed Riese was far ahead of him by now. And Yuri¡­ Malik had been so focused on his own plight with Petyr and Ulgar, he hadn¡¯t even considered¡­


    ¡°Found a little cave at the base of that canyon,¡± Riese said. ¡°Spotted Yuri coming down. He was hollering about a storm coming from the other side. So we holed up.¡±


    ¡°Why in the Abyss did you come out here?¡± Ulgar¡¯s voice. Malik turned now.


    The boy clambered up and over the tangle of vines, shoving his spear over, and Yuri helped him up. Ulgar¡¯s leg was still torn up, but it looked much better. Once on the broad branch of vine, he used Yuri¡¯s bonespear for support.


    The vine bridge barely swayed now, only with their movements. This final section was wide enough for two to walk abreast.


    The mists thinned further, and Malik could make out the colors of dusk spreading across the skies, beyond the rim of mountains that encircled the sacred valley of the Faltari.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Petyr?¡± Ulgar asked. ¡°Already across?¡± He looked up and down the next spire for signs of a cloak.


    Malik shook his head. ¡°That last gale,¡± he managed. ¡°H-he¡¯s¡­ gone.¡±


    Speaking the words sent tremors through him. Riese kept close, her hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Ulgar muttered. ¡°I should¡¯ve¡­ I was pretty out of it till your friends came along. Healed me up enough to get moving again.¡±


    Malik looked to Yuri and Riese.


    Riese shrugged. ¡°Shamans aren¡¯t the only ones who help people, you know.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± said Yuri, ¡°if it¡¯s all the same to you guys, let¡¯s get off this swinging bridge of death. Er¡ªshit¡­ you know what I mean.¡±


    Riese patted Malik on the arm. ¡°He¡¯s right. Let¡¯s go.¡±


    ***


    It was astonishing how quickly they finished the crossing. No violent gusts of wind. No rain or fog. Even Ulgar, staggering on his spear-crutch, made the final stretch look easy.


    Petyr had come so close.


    Soon, they were on the face of the penultimate spire. It was steep, but pocked with regular ledges where they could pause. They all did their best to help Ulgar over the difficult sections.


    Far above, Malik heard the sharp cries of dragyrs circling the upper spires. All the climbers must have left their nesting grounds in the Abyss.


    The colors of dusk turned to deep greys and swaths of indigo. At the base of the Mountain of Souls, from which the Spires rose, Malik could see the crowds gathering to greet the final climbers. Though they were still a fair distance from the bottom.


    They made the final crossing¡ªa sequence of leaps between small floating boulders, like a disjointed staircase. Malik and Yuri took Ulgar¡¯s arms and tried their best to cushion the falls with pulses of hish.


    Last, a man-made bridge of wood and rope, and they stood safely at the top of the Mountain of Souls. The remaining descent required careful maneuvering near the peak, before the angle grew gradual and easy. They followed a well-trod path into the forest.


    Dusk morphed into peaceful night as they descended into familiar trees near the base of the mountain.


    As he neared the end, he focused deeply on the act of drawing in hish, strengthening his body and spirit as best he could to finish with honor. Malik¡¯s body was tired, but it was his spirit that needed rejuvenation most.


    He kept picturing Petyr smiling back at him, that final moment before being torn from the face of the world.


    You cannot ignore darkness. The only way to move past is to move through.


    All these shaman mantras instilled in his mind had never felt more like nonsense.


    The four kept close, always on the lookout for jackals or other beasts, but the forest was silent, save for the soft crunch of their leather boots on the sodden ground. Walls of trees went on and on in every direction, and then, all at once, they opened up, and Malik, Riese, Yuri, and Ulgar emerged in the open plains of Kalengal Valley.


    They crossed a stream and crested a small hill.


    The crowds cheered as they neared. All their people gathered in one place, surrounding them. Hands brushed against Malik¡¯s shoulders, patted his back, congratulating him, asking about the color of his dragon egg.


    The egg, Malik mused. He¡¯d hardly thought about it since the storm had come.


    Malik kept his hands on the straps of his rucksack, wishing he could disappear, fly past them all like the wights in the Abyss, and be alone.


    ¡°Malik!¡±


    His mother¡¯s warm voice cut through the noise of the crowd. Malik looked up, and she ran to him, arms outstretched, and pulled him in to her soft embrace, and he began to sob into her shoulder.


    His sister joined them, usually all bright green eyes and mischievous smile, but now, it was mostly relief.


    ¡°Gods are good,¡± his mother whispered. ¡°Gods are good.¡±


    Malik looked up to find his father watching the three of them. Tears streaked his cheeks. Malik released his mother and sister, and his father embraced him.


    Malik could not remember an embrace like that from his father before, certainly not in front of all their people.


    Joren¡¯s calming spiritual resonance flooded over him, his hand clasped the side of his head, and looked in his eyes with tearful pride.


    ¡°You are a man now, my son.¡±

 9 - Dusk of Battle

    A battle could shift tides in an instant¡ªthat was the incredible, horrific beauty of it in Lady Captain Urla Pelasius¡¯s mind.


    Life and death stretched along an invisible thread, weaving across the entire battlefield, through every warrior, every beast, every razor-sharp edge. The difference was a matter of inches and moments.


    One moment, Urla¡¯s axe was wedged in the crevasse of a Sigan warrior¡¯s dark-haired skull. One moment, fire rained down from violent skies and consumed entire companies of warriors. Smoke rushed into the heavens, and blood gushed from a writhing furor of blades and shields, and the deathblows found between them.


    The next moment, horns blared, and cheers swept across the battlefield.


    The next warrior Urla faced dropped his weapon to the ground and lay prostrate on the blood-soaked ground before her. Her two-handed battle axe hovered mid-air, casting a gruesome shadow over the whimpering man.


    The entire field became a furor of clattering weapons and ringing shields. The rain of fire ceased, and the mighty Dragonmounts of Attica soared over the plains, gargantuan wings blocking the sun before settling on the hills at the edge of the battlefield.


    Three fates stretched the bloody plains¡ªthe fallen, the defeated, and the victors¡ªthreads woven before the war had begun. It was the Fjuriin Path they all trod, whether they believed it or not.


    Lady Captain Pelasius had stayed her course, that was all, the gory evidence spread all around her. To her left, Urla had dealt one fate, the man¡¯s innards coating the ground in goops of flesh and bone. Now, for the fortunate Sigan heathen kneeling before her, she dealt another fate.


    Urla lowered her axe, though she did not stow it on her back immediately.


    The surrender itself had likely happened several minutes ago. Somewhere behind her, comrades in arms closer to Lord General Raithe had survived, where here they had fallen, crimson cloaks twisted around their mutilated bodies. Somewhere ahead, the battle still raged for a few moments longer.


    But Urla bore no regret in her heart for any man or woman she¡¯d slain on this field. It was their path, and it was the heathen price of ancient rebellion finally paid in full.


    The prostrate warrior shifted at her feet, and Urla tightened her grip on the leather-wrapped handle of her axe.


    ¡°On your face!¡± she barked.


    ¡°P-please, I will not resist. I have family. Please.¡±


    All it took was one word, and even warriors could be reduced to pant-pissing cowards. The Sigan man planted his face deeper in the blood and upturned earth, wedged between the bodies of fallen soldiers.


    My son lost his father for this? Urla thought bitterly.


    She¡¯d been tempted to let her axe fall. She knew plenty of her comrades had surely done so. But she was Lady Captain now. And besides, the battlefury was already waning, and the ache of buried sorrow seeped back to the surface.


    Keivan¡¯s death will be avenged by much better blood than yours, she thought.


    The Sigan nobles and high-ranking officers would be tried and executed, replaced with imperial loyalists. The rest of this heathen force would march home in shackles and shame. Nothing to show for their years of independence, but a host of orphans and half-starved lowborns.


    After a bloody civil war half a century ago, Siga had managed a tumultuous independence, like many nation-states at the outskirts of the empire during the decline. But under the Emperor Athanasius, the tide had finally turned, and a new path lay before the Attican Empire.


    Kalkesh and Ytan had fallen first, and now, Siga would be grafted back into the mighty tree of Attica. A tree that had weathered droughts and storms, and was now poised to spread the blood-soaked world once more, and bend thousands more soldiers to such a groveling state.


    The Sigan man still simpered pathetically at Urla¡¯s feet, not daring to look anywhere but the mud.


    A series of runners dispersed shackles and chains across the battlefield. Prison carts descended the hills, steel cages rattling, and picked their way amongst the throng. A slow process, due to the sheer mass of corpses littering the ground.


    Urla knelt on the Sigan warrior¡¯s back. He groaned at the weight and the sharp edge of a glowing runemarked greave piercing through his cloak.


    ¡°Quit crying, swine,¡± she said, patting his cheek. ¡°You¡¯ll live.¡±


    A scrawny Attican squire handed Urla shackles. She seized the Sigan warrior¡¯s wrists and shackled them, and jerked the man to his feet. He wore only leathern armor, except for a chest plate made of bronze. It was remarkable their little kingdom had lasted as long as it had, in truth.


    Urla shoved the man forward, the rest of her company quickly following her lead.


    Most of the flames had dwindled to smoldering grass across the trodden plains, except for the splintered remains of an Elyan runeship, a quarter-mile to the west. The flying galleon had nearly swayed the battle in the Sigans¡¯ favor. Broadsides from the skies were a rare and terrifying thing to behold. Hundreds of Attican warriors had been killed, but the Dragonmounts had done their duty in the end.


    Dragonflight could not be matched by any human invention, magic or no, that was what Keivan had always told her.


    May you enjoy your rest in the halls of Myrath until I join you, husband, she thought coldly.


    Keivan was one week from a very different fate. The loss was still fresh, and the full reality of her husband¡¯s death had yet to truly set in. Urla did not think it would until she returned home to her son, alone.


    A thick hand clapped her shoulder from behind with a laugh. Urla didn¡¯t flinch. She¡¯d seen her comrade coming in the corner of her vision.


    ¡°Final tally, twenty-three, Captain!¡± Roak said with a chortle.


    The young Sergeant looked like a mossy blond boulder. All thick muscles and curly hair, from his beard to his toes, Urla was loathe to know. There was little privacy in a battle company, even for one of the shield maidens of Attica.


    ¡°Roak, if you were counting, you weren¡¯t lost in the fury,¡± said Lieutenant Caliphus, shoving his own prisoner in the mud. ¡°Bloody shame.¡±


    Roak chuckled. ¡°Is it truly the fury if you just stand there hacking away at the same heathen the whole damn time?¡±


    Caliphus glowered. He was ten years younger than Urla, and younger than most of the Bloody Company. But unlike most of them, he was an academy boy from a decent family. The men liked to razz him over being a soft noble¡¯s son, and he fell for it more times than not.


    ¡°Too many kills to count,¡± Caliphus said.


    ¡°Hey, I thought you said it didn¡¯t matter!¡±


    ¡°Help me out here, Lady Captain!¡± Caliphus said.


    Urla smirked and shook her head. ¡°Only kill I ever marked was my very first. Twenty years ago.¡±


    ¡°Heh, first kill, that¡¯s all you marked today too Lieutenant,¡± Roak laughed.


    Caliphus shoved him in the shoulder, but he laughed along.


    Roak hurried forward, but Caliphus remained close by Urla¡¯s side.


    ¡°So¡­ how many was it actually, then?¡± Urla asked.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Twenty-two,¡± Caliphus said, shoving his prisoner forward. The heathen stumbled over his own feet. ¡°I¡¯d happily make it a tie, however!¡±


    The Sigan warrior shriveled at the words, and hurried forward. He did not trip again.


    ***


    The dusk of battle was Urla¡¯s least favorite hour, when the gruesome throes of fate were exchanged for a strange and raucous amalgamation of screams and frivolity. Of course, she¡¯d had her own part in the looting of defeated kingdoms before¡ªshaming and mutilating and enslaving¡ªbut over the years, it had grown less appealing.


    For years, Urla tried to suppress her displeasure at the post-battle ritual, for she knew it was the mother in her, and something deep within felt sure this was weakness festering. Eventually, she could not deny it. If becoming a mother had changed her, then, so be it.


    Her own child would never be left so vulnerable. Still, Urla could not shake the knowledge that her son¡¯s fate had been mere chance blessing from the All Mother.


    How easily little Ruan might have been Sigan, born on the other side of a war he had no say in. And when the Attican Empire quashed that rebellion and subjugated its citizens once more, as was their right, it could just as easily have been her own son orphaned or starved or... worse.


    So, once her duties were fulfilled on the battlefield, Urla retreated to the outskirts of the war camp while the warriors of the Bloody Company subjugated the Sigan heathens in the name of the empire, and the Dragon Emperor Athanasius himself.


    The Sigan capital of Leone was nothing like the great Attican cities of stone, where the history of the empire was etched in every temple and square. Here, everything was made of bamboo rods and thatched together by little more than twine. If the legions felt so inclined, the entire city could be razed by morning¡ªit surely wouldn¡¯t be the first time Leone had suffered such a fate. A proper civilized city could be built in its place, but that was not the Attican way.


    Yes, they conquered, but vassal states still maintained remnants of their culture. Sure, the Attican conquerors erected temples to the true All Mother and All Father, and over time, monks would bring many more converts to the Fjuriin Path. But theirs was an empire built on land, not superstitious rites or culture. So long as the Sigans paid proper tribute to the emperor, they could carry on their lives much as they had before. It made the matter of rebellion all the more baffling to Urla. Surely, life in Siga had been worse during their liberation.


    But then, she had been raised in the Path, and for that, she thanked the true gods.


    Urla walked the edge of the battlefield, where the sounds of spoils were diminished. Clouds hovered overhead, forming a sort of glowing dome over the valley. Most of the pyres had dwindled. Heathen soldiers were all huddled in prison carts, kept warm by the fires that had incinerated their fallen comrades.


    Along the hillsides, the silhouettes of dragons loomed against the cloudy backdrop, wings drawn back like dark sails.


    A faint golden luminescence caught Urla¡¯s eye near the center of the field, and she ventured over. As she neared, Urla noticed several brown-cloaked alchemists shuffling around, picking through splinters of wood, the source of the strange glow.


    The remains of the runeship, Urla realized, her curiosity piqued. It was little more than a heap of splinters. Urla could make out what she thought might be a section of mast jutting out of the wreckage, and a section of taffrail, perhaps, but little else.


    She drew closer. The browncloaks hefted a few select pieces of wood into a wagon, for study Urla presumed, the rest they cast aside into a large pile of charred lumber to be destroyed. The runeship was a terrifying marvel. Urla¡¯s own armor, like most highborn officers, was reinforced with runes¡ªthey made it possible to survive a single axe blow to the chest, though, rarely two¡ªbut to fly an entire ship with magic? That was a sorcery beyond anything in Attica.


    Though Urla knew little of magic.


    It was a force of the Other, according to the Fjuriin Path, and bore risks far greater than dragons, if practiced by the wrong hands. Worlds had fallen before from such power.


    This runeship was a bad omen. The power of a nation that did not believe in the same restraint towards sorcery.


    The Elyans were meddling in Attican affairs, and that was cause for worry. But if the secrets of their magic ships could be unraveled¡­


    The browncloaks shot Urla an aggravated look, but carried on about their work. Runes on the salvaged boards continued to glow, despite the decimation of the ship itself. Urla peered into the cart for a closer look. It was as though the boards had been etched with liquid magic, like metal in a forge poured into intricate shapes. The runes themselves came from no language Urla had encountered in all her campaigns, their shape somehow both sharp and fluid.


    ¡°I guess I shouldn¡¯t be surprised to find you out here lingering on the battlefield,¡± said a familiar voice. ¡°Kraal ni Mira.¡±


    Consul General Campos strode toward her from the darkness, his crimson cloak billowing out behind him in the soft evening breeze. She saluted him with a raised right fist before answering.


    ¡°Soldiers live for spoils,¡± Urla said. ¡°Warriors fight for glory. You taught me that.¡±


    Campos had been Lord Captain of her first company, many years ago, and taught her much of what it meant to be a warrior.


    ¡°I did,¡± Campos said with a grin. ¡°But who said there¡¯s no glory to be found in spoils?¡±


    Urla shook her head. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see you partaking either.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a consul.¡±


    Urla rolled her eyes. ¡°Well, there you have it.¡±


    ¡°But I am sure the men of your Bloody Company are relieved you let them choose their own glory.¡±


    Urla smiled. ¡°That would make me a poor bloody mother.¡±


    Kraal ni mira.


    The name had come from the moment she proved her mettle in the training camps.


    Back as a young officer recruit¡ªfar more green than Caliphus. There were few women in the legions, and hardly any female officers, and more than one cocky grunt had tested her. But when one bastard tried to have his way with her after a drunken fest, Urla nearly severed his hand clean off.


    The bastard was a fellow noble¡¯s heir, and took the incident up the chain of command.


    Urla denied it. Naturally, it was a much worse offense to maim one of her fellow soldiers than what the man had attempted.


    ¡°What would you have me do?¡± Lord Captain Campos had demanded of her before the tribunal. ¡°How else do you explain the blood on your uniform?¡±


    Urla had shrugged sheepishly. ¡°It¡¯s my¡­ time of the month.¡±


    And the name was born. The Bloody Mother.


    The maimed man was discharged. The legions had no use for a one-handed man, noble or not. Urla, meanwhile, earned her respect and her place among the legions.


    From that day forward, there was neither male nor female amongst her comrades, only soldiers. Twenty years later, Urla was one of the few lady captains, and her company of a hundred would follow her into the pits of Skrala itself.


    ¡°The Bloody Mother.¡± Campos laughed, clapped her on the shoulder. ¡°That bastard had it coming, I¡¯ll tell you.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°You have many times.¡±


    ¡°We all liked your boldness, just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just needed an excuse not to send me packing,¡± Urla said.


    They laughed. Campos followed her gaze as the alchemists continued their work on the remains of the runeship.


    ¡°A marvel, isn¡¯t it?¡± the general said, surveying the diminishing heap that had once been a ship of terrifying magnificence. ¡°I¡¯m glad there was only one.¡±


    ¡°The Flying Armada is a legend, isn¡¯t it?¡± asked Urla.


    ¡°If the Elyans can build one ship? Why not a fleet?¡±


    ¡°They might ask the same of our dragons.¡±


    ¡°Aye, and we all make damn sure we keep that shrouded in mystery, don¡¯t we?¡±


    Urla knew he was fishing for information, as usual. Being wed to a Dragonmount, many assumed she knew all the secrets of the order, but her husband had taken oaths long before they¡¯d met, and Urla knew little more than most other members of the legions why there were so few dragons in the world.


    Urla shrugged. ¡°Mysteries are mysteries for a reason, sir.¡±


    Campos turned to one of the alchemists.


    ¡°Will you be able to unravel this monstrosity¡¯s mysteries, Lord Sorcerer?¡±


    The bald man scowled and set a glowing scrap of wood in the wagon. ¡°I¡¯m not at liberty to say, sir.¡±


    Campos chortled. ¡°Good man, good man. Carry on, then!¡±


    He waved the alchemist away and grabbed Urla by the elbow. ¡°Walk with me, will you? I think you¡¯re putting them on edge.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Urla laughed. ¡°You¡¯re the one asking questions.¡±


    ¡°Then, permit me the joy of your company, Kraal ni Mira.¡±


    Urla nodded. ¡°Of course, sir.¡±


    They strode in silence, weaving amongst the pyres dotting the battle-churned landscape.


    ¡°Your company fought with honor,¡± General Campos said. ¡°Throughout this campaign. You lead them well.¡±


    ¡°I learned to follow orders well, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°There were some who feared you¡¯d let grief rule you today.¡±


    Urla huffed. If hers and her husband¡¯s fates had been reversed, she knew he would have received no such doubts.


    ¡°I was not one of them, Lady Captain. I knew you¡¯d fulfill your duty, beyond the highest expectations. As you have since the day that bastard lost his bloody hand.¡±


    She smiled. ¡°Thank you, sir.¡±


    ¡°After this, though¡­¡±


    ¡°I have no intention of retiring, sir. My duty is written in blood, just like my father¡¯s and his before him.¡±


    ¡°I hear your son shows much promise at the academy. How old is he now?¡±


    ¡°Eighteen. He¡¯s already passed the Mountain and the Desert trials. Though he longs for the Sky like his father.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a damned shame Keivan¡¯s mount was lost with him,¡± Campos said softly. ¡°Voltari should have been your son¡¯s mount, and his heir¡¯s after him. So rare a tragedy.¡±


    Urla bit her lip. It felt like a betrayal, but that was the news she dreaded sharing with her son the most, even more than the death of his father. Ruan had trained all his youth believing he would be Dragonmount. He¡¯d ridden Voltari on half a hundred occasions, and he possessed rare skill in flight.


    Urla had insisted no word be sent about the tragedy. She could not bear the thought of anyone else breaking such unspeakable news to him.


    General Campos brushed her shoulder in a patronly fashion, and Urla turned to him. He¡¯d been a friend of her father¡¯s, and after his death, Campos was as close a thing to a father as she had left.


    ¡°There may be another way for your son to attempt a Sky trial.¡±


    ¡°Only a couple of dragons are hatched each year. I don¡¯t know as much as you think about their origins, but I know the chances that my son would be granted one is unfathomable. I have a better chance at becoming Lady General.¡±


    Campos smiled down at her. ¡°Some might have said the same about your chances at being captain too. Or even making it out of the training camps. But in my experience, it¡¯s always a combination of who you are and who you know. Your son is one of the most promising young novices in the capital, and you are more well-connected than you may realize.¡±


    ¡°What are you saying, sir?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s someone I¡¯d like you and Ruan to meet when we return to Attica. Assuming, of course, that you¡¯re interested.¡±


    ¡°You think you can get my family another dragon?¡±


    Campos walked off, calling over his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll send word after the Victor¡¯s March.¡±

 10 - Victors

    The streets of Attica thrummed with the booming exultation of victory. Crimson banners streamed from every rooftop and balcony, from the Rue ni Hana at the outskirts of the city, all the way to the Imperial Square at the base of the palace grounds.


    Thousands of soldiers marched along the Attican Way, trumpets blaring, crowds roaring, soldiers pausing at intervals to pound out a victor¡¯s beat on the cobbled stone with their boots and spear shafts, ending with a furious chant that thundered across the city, echoing off the hillsides beyond.


    ¡°The streets will flow like rivers,¡± the legions shouted. ¡°No more will our empire fade. Athanasius will take his bounty. Attica! Attica, rise from your grave!¡±


    Urla shouted with all the rest, her own company positioned near the middle of the procession. It was remarkable to look upon the main thoroughfare of the city and consider how much had changed in her lifetime.


    Athanasius was the fourth emperor to rule since Urla was born. Many in the world had thought that Attica was in its twilight years in her childhood. A once-mighty nation clinging to a tradition of power more than anything actual. More and more of the outer kingdoms ruled and united by Aran the Conqueror in the Golden Age had withdrawn. Great sprawls of land once regions of the greatest empire in the world were grafted in by lesser kingdoms at the outer limits of Attica¡¯s influence. Peoples once called Attican were known by other names. Old kingdoms were reborn, new ones formed. And Attica dwindled like a wave turning back to sea.


    Even internally, Attica was a fractured empire when Urla came into the world. Most of its armies split amongst the three great Dragon Lords, the imperial force barely larger than the highest lord¡¯s standing army. The high lords vied for power in a vicious cycle of war and upheaval and assassinations, mixed with famines and plagues and other disasters that heaped on the turbulence. Attica was spread too thin, ruled by too many lords, united by weak and foolish emperors.


    Praust the Second had been barely a puppet, so Urla¡¯s father had told little Urla after he was assassinated. Emperor Erastlan, a fool. And he died just a few years later.


    But the Good Emperor Vitruvian had done two things unexpected. Two things that forced the high lords to pull their heads out of their own asses for long enough to repair some of the fractures.


    First, Vitruvian deemed the allotment of dragons be based on a lottery. For years, the lesser lords had been swayed by shifting loyalties, that often changed overnight, as they attempted to woo their way to merit a dragon egg, and the promise it might hold for their houses. But as soon as all dragon eggs belonged to the empire, rather than a few high lords, political maneuvering required a majority and had to include the approval of the emperor himself.


    Second, and most astonishing, Vitruvian refused to name an heir from his own bloodline. Instead, he chose to name an heir based on merit and character, regardless of the greatness of house.


    Athanasius came from the lesser House Octiva, his own kingdom spanning less than half of a percent of the empire.


    House Octiva had no historic squabbles with the Dragon Lords, and Athanasius was charismatic and cunning. Any who doubted him were quickly won over after he quashed the Rhodan Rebellion, involving the brief secession of one of the oldest and greatest dragon houses Attica had ever known. But Athanasius followed up this victory on the Attican interior with two more on the exterior, conquering the small kingdoms of Kalkesh and Ytan.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    The Fjuriin Path meant something again. For the first time in a century, Attica was growing rather than receding. The Sigan victory in the eastern border was just one more step toward the Path of Eternal Greatness.


    Though Urla was filled with sorrow, buried deep in her spirit over the loss of her husband and her son¡¯s rightful dragon, their deaths had been a worthy sacrifice. And with the possibility of another dragon lingering in her mind, Urla could not help but march proudly, bellowing alongside the members of her company.


    This was their path.


    The legions marched over a series of bridges leading up to the palace, pausing before the great temples of Valyr and Marha¡ªthe true All Father and All Mother.


    Blood ran down the steps leading up to the pillared entrance of Marha¡¯s temple. The life of the greatest Sigan generals spilled as a sacrifice that would be spread upon fields outside the city, blessing the body of the All Mother, where all Atticans made their home.


    Urla counted herself blessed that her company had been given the honor of the Victor¡¯s March. Half the legions remained in Siga, to ensure proper transition of power. A quarter of those soldiers left behind would likely be garrisoned there for two years. Urla knew she had Consul General Campos to thank for her marching orders.


    The Imperial Square stretched a quarter mile in all directions, formed of brilliant alabaster stone tiles. Each fitted so carefully, and maintained so dutifully, that the war chariots leading the procession did not rattle. Chariots were unreasonable on the shattered terrain in the East, but in Attica City, all generals rode them.


    In the old wars of the Golden Age, it was said legions of chariots fought in battles on the very plains where crops were now sown to sustain the empire. Chariots circled the square ahead before stopping at the great steps of the pyramidal fortress that was the Emperor¡¯s palace.


    The legions formed up in regiments of five hundred, with a hundred soldiers to each company. The edges of the square were lined with the chariots of the lords of Attica. She spotted her husband¡¯s banner, a blue tower with a dragon perched at its zenith, and her heart rushed. The banner rose above her son¡¯s chariot. Even from this distance, she recognized his stance, one hand tucked at his side, resting on the hilt of his sword.


    Urla¡¯s company¡ªall bearing her house¡¯s sigil upon their chests¡ªformed up beside her.


    For a moment, the square was silent. Ten thousand soldiers stood to attention at the base of the pyramid. A hundred thousand citizens filled the streets surrounding them. And yet, it was as silent as the forests behind Urla¡¯s childhood home.


    All at once, like an eruption, cheers rumbled across the square.


    Every soldier looked upward as the first dragon soared overhead, swooping down from azure skies. Soldiers pounded their fists on their armored chests, and more dragons followed. Twenty foot wings fanned across the sky like dark sails. Seven dragons in total, belonging to the high lords and the Dragon Emperor Athanasius himself. They swooped down for another pass, while another chorus of ¡°Attica, Rise from your Grave¡± erupted amongst the troops and carried into the streets.


    One by one, the lords perched upon landing pads set into the sides of the pyramid, while Athanasius¡¯s pale white dragon drew back its wings and set down upon the vast dais at the top of the stairs, midway up the pyramid¡¯s face. He raised a gleaming sword into the air, and the city cheered. Soldiers pounded their boots and spear shafts, the sound rising to near-deafening heights. Urla stomped her feet with all her might, a rush of furious patriotism erupting in her heart.


    The Emperor lowered his sword, and the crowd went silent as their great leader descended his white dragon.


    Urla stole a glance at the western edge of the square, where her son stood at the front of his father¡¯s chariot. Dark brown hair reached his shoulders and caught the breeze. Ruan¡¯s bronze skin shone, though his face remained expressionless. She wondered what news had already reached him. His father was a lesser lord, so it was not strange his dragon did not fly during the Victor¡¯s March.


    Ruan glanced her direction, and her heart shuddered inside her chest. She could not hold back a grimace as his sad eyes glistened, meeting her gaze. There was no searching there.


    He already knows. Urla knew it deep in her spirit.


    Her son turned away.


    The crowd erupted once more as Emperor Athanasius raised his hands from the dais. Using a runemarked horn, his voice filled the square with what was surely a rousing speech of triumph and glory.


    But Urla heard little of it.

 11 - Invitation

    The festivities lasted only a day in the city, then most of the imperial troops marched on to the estates of their lord houses, where celebrations would continue.


    Keivan¡¯s cousins and uncles all led companies the same as Urla, and all their troops made their livelihoods on Keivan Pelasius¡¯s lands¡ªa two day journey from the capital across the southern plains of Attica Proper. It was not until moments before dinner on the first night, that Urla finally found her son.


    In truth, after seeing his face during the Victor¡¯s March, she¡¯d needed the time to prepare herself, and in all the festivities and marching, there had been little privacy.


    Expression stoic as ever, young Ruan greeted Urla with a salute, for they were surrounded by a bustling mass of soldiers and servants, unloading gear, setting up camp, ferrying messages.


    ¡°Join me for wine before dinner?¡± Urla asked, motioning toward the enormous tent that had been erected. Two dozen poles of socha and thick furls of Kirithian cloth would provide her more space than she¡¯d had in months, though she longed for the vast halls of home.


    Ruan hesitated, but caught himself. ¡°Of course, Lady Captain.¡±


    So formal. Gods, he was only a boy when we left, Urla thought. He still addressed me as mother. Now, he¡¯s a man grown. Eighteen.


    Urla gestured to the tent entrance, and he followed her inside.


    A flurry of servants engulfed them both. Once Urla had fielded questions from Pisarre, the chief of their family¡¯s staff, about dinner and preparations for the larger festivities when they reached the Sapphire Tower of Castle Pesasius.


    As she spoke, Ruan stepped aside, and a pair of servants removed the leather fastenings on her steel cuirass and eased the runemarked armor off. After two years at the edge of the empire, and a three month campaign, it was a blessed relief. Today had demanded only ceremonial garb, so the process was quicker than battle armor. Urla wore only a cream-colored tunic beneath, which was drenched with sweat from riding in the early autumn sun.


    Ruan turned his back as the female servants stripped her and dabbed her naked body with damp cloths and perfumes before dressing her in a sleeveless violet gown made of Kirithian silk. Urla was rarely one for excess, and the entire process was finished in only a few minutes.


    When she turned, Ruan remained in his formal academy uniform, a tight fitting crimson tunic beneath standard leathern armor, with bronze fastenings, and pauldrons decorated with a small bronze dragon head on each shoulder. A blue sash for his father¡¯s house¡ªnow, his house¡ªwas draped over his chest. And a bronze and leather belt with a gladius sheathed at his hip.


    All just like her husband had worn in his own academy days.


    So regal. So¡­


    Under normal circumstances, mother and son might have taken their wine at the edge of the camp and watched the sunset, but tonight, much as Urla was tired of the walls of tents, it would be improper to speak in public, considering what they must discuss.


    Chairs were brought to the center of her tent, wine was poured into bronze chalices, and then, at last, they were alone.


    Ruan stood beside his chair, waiting for her to be seated first, but Urla merely gazed at her son, looking him up and down, truly, for the first time in two years.


    His dark hair was tied back now. Specks of stubble showed on his upper lip. His brown eyes were full of secrets. It was a Fjuriin tenet to remain composed, to master one¡¯s passions. To accept fate, and remain committed to one¡¯s path. But it was necessary to be true amongst a devoted few. This was the traditional role of Attican mothers since the Golden Age, even Lady Captains.


    Urla had been her son¡¯s confidante once. But now¡­ she could sense the walls he¡¯d built up during his time at the academy.


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to say I¡¯ve grown,¡± Ruan said plainly. ¡°I already know full well.¡±


    Urla smirked, and Ruan let the crease of a smile slip at the edges of his mouth.


    ¡°Ah, there it is,¡± she said, and his smile grew. ¡°Yes, even soldiers are allowed a grin from time to time. Now, are you too old to embrace your mother?¡±


    Ruan hesitated, glancing around.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to, if you don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Before Urla could finish, Ruan crossed the space between them and pulled her tight. He was taller than her now. The top of her head only reached the base of his ear, and she was tall for an Attican woman.


    Gods, he must have grown half a foot these past two years.


    Ruan clutched her back, a slight tremble in his fingers. She kissed him briefly on the cheek and pulled back. She¡¯d ordered the servants not to disturb them, but she knew he was on edge about appearances, having just become a proper Fjuriin man.


    ¡°When did you hear?¡± she whispered, taking her seat.


    ¡°Cedro, another boy at the academy, he lost his father in the same battle. The messenger talked about a dragonfall. I knew it was Voltari from description alone. I told no one, though.¡±


    Urla took a long drink from her chalice, draining the cup. Blessedly, the servants had left a carafe, and she refilled it. The warmth in her stomach dulled the tide of grief that threatened to swell up in her. ¡°I hoped to be the one to break the news.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Ruan sat straight and rigid in his chair. ¡°Truth be told, I¡¯m glad for the time to mourn on my own. Or today¡¯s Victor¡¯s March might have been far less sweet.¡±


    Urla nodded. She¡¯d wanted to be the one to comfort him, but perhaps she¡¯d needed him more than he¡¯d needed her. ¡°Only one dragon fell. Who was this Cedro¡¯s father?¡±


    ¡°A low lord from the isles. Lucian Varro. His son is one my bunkmates at Dawncrest.¡±


    Urla cursed to herself. The Varros were barely lords at all. In her own youth, before the Good Emperor Vitruvian¡¯s reign, such a lord would never have bunked with a Pelasius. And she might have still broken the news herself. But then, before Vitruvian, she might never have married a Dragonmount either.


    Ruan remained composed, though she noted how he bit the inside of his lower lip in the interim.


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡± she asked.


    He sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve had three weeks to consider all this means.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re Lord Pelasius now.¡±


    ¡°Not just that.¡±


    Urla shuddered to mention it. Suddenly fearing it was all wishful thinking. What if Campos was wrong? What if he couldn¡¯t do what he said he might?


    But the arrangements were already made, and if there was even the slightest chance Ruan might still become Dragonmount, she had to take it.


    ¡°We¡¯re dining with the Consul General tonight,¡± she said.


    Ruan frowned. ¡°Tonight of all nights should be a family dinner. Uncle Adrius has an elaborate feast prepared.¡±


    Urla nodded. ¡°Campos is like a father to me, Ruan. He is one of the highest lords in the land.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t even have a dragon.¡±


    ¡°By choice. He serves on Athanasius¡¯s council, just as his father served Vitruvian and Erastlan before him. We should be honored to dine with him.¡±


    Ruan straightened at her words and nodded, but his voice remained rigid. ¡°Of course, mother.¡±


    ¡°He has an invitation that I think will be of great interest to you.¡±


    ***


    Ruan¡¯s eyes went wide, the corners on the verge of tearing up at Campos¡¯s words. ¡°You¡¯re serious, Consul General? Mother, surely this is a joke.¡±


    Urla¡¯s stomach churned, desperately hoping the same. They sat at the head of Campos¡¯s table, the customary honor usually reserved for members of a lord¡¯s own bloodline, though Campos had no wife or children. A few nieces and nephews had joined them during the meal, but left to join their own families as soon as the meal was done. Servants cleaned up the long wooden tables, while the three of them spoke softly.


    ¡°No joke, Ruan,¡± Campos said. ¡°I would never trivialize something so sacred as a dragonbond.¡±


    ¡°But my father was the first Pelasius to become Dragonmount. The chances of another lottery are abysmally low.¡±


    ¡°Your father was one of the first to win a bond under Vitruvian¡¯s rule. But there are ways.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be middle of the line at best for a chance to bond,¡± Ruan said.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. If you wait until the lottery, you will be middle line at best. Each egg will have a chance to be bonded with half a hundred lordlings before it might reach you. Impossible? Who can say? Dragonbonds are a mystery. I¡¯ve seen two fall to the same house in the same year, by chance. There are many houses, even great ones, who¡¯ve yet to form a bond. But your blood runs deep, long before the Dragon Lords. There were Pelasius riders during Aron the Conqueror¡¯s reign.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    Urla briefly brushed his shoulder. ¡°Speak plainly, General. For my father¡¯s sake.¡±


    A handsome servant with fair Valucian skin refilled their glasses. He wore a maroon vest and tight brown breeches, and had seen twenty summers at best. Campos pulled him close and whispered something in his ear, then winked and waved the young man away. ¡°Thank you, Baro.¡±


    The servant barked an order in Valucian, and the other servants quickly left the room. In the distance, Urla heard the strumming of lyres and the beat of dancing drums. She recognized it as an old melody dating back just after the Crossing, in the lively style of the Old Continent.


    Baro stood at the entrance to the tent, arms crossed. Urla thought she had seen him before, though Campos had kept other young men close as long as she¡¯d known him. Clearly, Baro was special, to be so trusted.


    When it was clear their conversation was private, Campos spoke.


    ¡°Since your father married your mother, I¡¯ve often teased her about finding out the origins of dragon eggs.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s knowledge entrusted only to the Emperor, and the old Dragon Lords,¡± said Ruan.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, but also to others who¡¯ve no stake in the matter.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Urla asked. ¡°You¡¯ve always known? You¡¯ve been pestering me since I married Keivan.¡±


    Campos chuckled and shrugged. ¡°Guilty. I was curious how much is known by families such as yours. Ancient lineage and such. Though, in truth, knowing you, you¡¯d not have let on to a fool like me, even if you¡¯d known.¡±


    Urla fought a smile.


    ¡°So, you know where the eggs actually come from?¡± Ruan asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been entrusted with delivering them for the lottery for the past several years. But this year, our gracious Emperor has requested I bring more¡­ assurances. Ruan, I¡¯d like you and your mother to join me in safely delivering the eggs from their present hiding place. In the process, you¡¯ll be the first potential mount to come in contact with this year¡¯s selection. And should you so happen to bond with one of them before the lottery, well, what¡¯s done would be done, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no breaking a bond,¡± Ruan said, eyes alight. ¡°Only death.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± said Campos.


    ¡°When do we set sail?¡± Urla asked.


    ¡°Tonight.¡±


    ¡°Before the celebrations?¡± Urla asked.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be a week of preparations. You¡¯ll slip away, to mourn your husband¡¯s death in private. We¡¯ll be back before First Feast.¡±


    ¡°Wait, there and back in less than a week,¡± said Ruan. ¡°Where are we sailing?¡±


    Campos grinned. ¡°Ah, well, we won¡¯t be traveling by ship. At least most of the way.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Urla.


    ¡°I told you, there was someone I wanted you to meet,¡± said Campos, his grin growing wide and mischievous.


    ¡°Out with it, General,¡± Urla said. ¡°Er, with respect.¡±


    ¡°Ha! Yes, I enjoy the game a bit too much, I know. But can you really fault a man for enjoying himself? Baro, bring in our guest, would you?¡±


    The Valucian man nodded, and slipped past the entrance into another part of the tent. He emerged moments later, bowed to the general, and then spoke, ¡°I present Lady Knight Meripha Salyr.¡±


    An immense woman with dark brown skin strode into the room, bedecked in runemarked armor even finer than Urla¡¯s own. Each plate shimmering like polished silver. The shield of her helmet remained closed, but her dark eyes shone. Dark hair flowed from behind the helmet in several tight braids.


    Despite the thick armor, her movements were silent and lithe, an impossibility made possible only through magic.


    Ruan¡¯s mouth gaped. He glanced from his mother to General Campos to the knight. ¡°A Knight of Caadron?¡±


    Besides the alchemists, the knights were the only other order entrusted with the ways of magic in the empire. This woman was one seven who walked the Path of the Gods.


    The Lady Knight stopped in front of them and dipped her head in reverence. ¡°You summoned, Lord General?¡±


    ¡°Take us to the palace,¡± he said.


    ¡°Of course, Consul General,¡± she said, inflection-less.


    The Lady Knight drew an enormous broadsword from her back, the long blade shimmering with ethereal radiance. An emerald gemstone glowed in the pommel.


    Urla had never seen a godblade this close. The gem shone with a ferocious luminescence as the Lady Knight swung the blade in a swift arc, forming a shimmering ring of light. Mists plumed around her, as though she¡¯d just plunged a forged blade in water.


    When the mists settled, the ring of light remained, and within it was what Urla could only describe as a window in the air itself. All around was Lord General Campos¡¯s tent, but within the ring of light, was an immaculate palatial hall, lined with towering marble pillars, etched with gold filigree.


    Urla¡¯s breath caught.


    ¡°Who are we going to meet?¡±


    Campos shrugged. ¡°We mustn¡¯t keep the Dragon Emperor waiting.¡±

 12 - Fate of the Fallen

    After one day of recovery for the surviving climbers, the Festival began at full dark the day after the Ascension. At the top of a hill near the base of the Spires, three pyres illuminated Kalengal Valley in a raging light.


    Malik and all the other surviving climbers lined up in front of the pyres, while the four Faltari clans looked on.


    Three youths had fallen this year, all during the storm. In that way, it was an ordinary Ascent, but somehow, this truth offered Malik no comfort tonight.


    His father raised his hands, standing in front of the newly-christened young men and women of Faltara. Fifteen survivors in all.


    The entire valley fell silent.


    With hish to amplify his voice, Joren addressed all the Faltari people, as he did every year.


    ¡°Long ago, our ancestors made the most difficult decision anyone can make. To leave their world of their ancestors behind and create a new life. To trust the signs of the gods, even though their destination was uncharted, even though no one before had crossed through this Gate.¡±


    Joren gestured up at the Spires, shadows hovering behind him.


    ¡°Our ancestors did not know what they would find on the other side. But they knew the survival of our very people depended on their courageous hearts and adventurous spirits. The world had grown evil, and rather than power or wealth, our people led the way. They forged a new path, and chose a peaceful existence on an unknown island in a strange world.


    ¡°It is true ours is no easy existence. Faltara is harsh and breathtaking land. Crops do not come without toil. Winters are long and cruel. We share this land with ancient predators, and at times, we face conflicts within. That same corruption that lingers from the world we left behind.


    ¡°But the gods were wise, and they bestowed wisdom upon our ancestors. The four clans were formed to strike a balance amongst our people. Four chieftains, representing four aspects of the same Faltari heritage. All of you possess your own gifts, as does each of your clans. But each one of us comes to maturity the same way. Ever since the Crossing, it has always been so. Each Ascent begins alone, but like the clans themselves, many discover how hard it is to survive without the aid of your kin.¡±


    Malik couldn¡¯t help but glance over at Aram Tulsein. The tall boy rolled his eyes at the shaman¡¯s words. Malik could imagine what the cocky young man was muttering. Aram was the First Ascendant, and he had done it all on his own.


    Though, of course, that was untrue. Aram had been trained by members of his clan, like everyone else. But such balanced thinking was beyond someone like Aram.


    ¡°Our survival depends on the sacrifice of us all,¡± Joren went on. ¡°It is a lesson that can cost a life just as easily in the Spires, as anywhere else on the island. We endure nothing alone. We Faltari face all things as one people in the end. That goes for celebration, but also for mourning.¡±


    A lump formed in Malik¡¯s throat. An ache in his chest. For what seemed the thousandth time in a day, he pictured Petyr¡¯s smile. There. And then simply¡ªgone.


    ¡°Fifteen of you have survived the same dangerous Ascent we all have faced, bringing back relics from a lost world. You¡¯ve gazed at the bones of our past. Glimpsed the fate of the fallen who¡¯ve come before. A civilization that choked the very life out of our ancestors. And eventually, out of their own existence. Even the very dragons that brought that civilization to its prominence can no longer exist there. And so we journey, once a year. To remember. To face the bitter spirits of our past.¡±


    Writhing shadows sifted through his vision, picturing Derrin. The corpses that filled that temple. The faces on the pillars.


    ¡°You have endured. You have seen our past. Now, may you lead us forward along the path the gods have set before us.¡±


    Malik¡¯s father paused and held up a cloth of all four colors, representing those who¡¯d returned. Both now, and always.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Joren released it into the wind, and it writhed through the air, aided by a hint of hish, before settling in some child¡¯s hands in the midst of the crowd¡ªa special blessing. There was a brief exultation.


    Then, Joren produced three black cloths.


    ¡°Three of our own did not return to us, a hard and necessary sacrifice. But one we never take lightly. We Faltari are no strangers to death or hardship. We do not fear it. These three Ascended with honor, and they fell, as we all shall fall, one day. May they prepare the way for us in the life to come, just as they have done in this. Tonight, they feast in the halls of Urshalla, with the gods themselves. Having fought bravely in this life.¡±


    Joren released the black cloths into the wind one at a time. Strips of fabric darted across the gathering and fell amongst them. Somewhere in the crowd, other children snatched up each of the cloths, and would deliver them solemnly to each mother of the fallen.


    The entire valley fell silent once more.


    Crowds parted, forming one aisle. Kin of one of the fallen strode through the crowd, carrying a stretcher made of dark cloth and bone-white tree limbs. A shrouded body lay upon the first stretcher.


    As they neared, Malik recognized Petyr¡¯s elder brother, Davar, and his father, Elder Dannsein, head of the Saber clan. They and other family members carried the stretcher, while his mother walked before them, sprinkling the white and purple petals of high mountain ruleas.


    The sight sent shivers through him. Last year, it had been Malik carrying that stretcher. His mother and sister casting the flowers.


    Torches ignited across the crowd, a sea of dancing flames and dimly-lit faces, and a soft chorus ushered up from the crowd.


    ¡°Elesa volonai. Menassa elonai¡­¡±


    ¡°Utlesa sheshonash. Alesa renonash¡­¡±


    An ancient prayer in a tongue from the fallen world, so Malik¡¯s father said. According to Joren, its truest meaning was a reason for contention, but for the people of Faltara, it was a cry for unity and collective sorrow.


    The other two fallen climbers were carried to the base of the hill at the center of the gathering. Every man, woman, and child in the valley lifted up their voices.


    Malik did not join them at first, though he knew the words better than any mantra in his own tongue. He looked out at his people, and then, up into the darkness where the shadows of the spires loomed.


    ¡°Elesa volonai. Menassa elonai¡­¡±


    ¡°Utlesa sheshonash. Alesa renonash¡­¡±


    The gods move through us. For we are their children.


    From them, we were begotten. To them, we shall return.


    Malik had sung the words over the fallen every year. Until they were to be sung over the spirit of his brother.


    He had not been able to bring himself to sing over his Derrin¡¯s body and only mouthed the words. He¡¯d intended to do the same now, but then, his gaze settled on Petyr¡¯s mother. Tears streaked her cheeks, and she beat her palm against her chest with each line, chanting with all the sincerity in her spirit.


    Elder Dannsein kept one hand at his wife¡¯s shoulder, and began to pound his chest too. And then, their other son joined. Releasing Petyr¡¯s spirit from this place. To join the Great Breath of the gods.


    The foreign words overwhelmed him with a spiritual sense beyond anything Malik could explain. For the past two years, he had felt so alone in his sorrow. So alone in his despair over a shifted fate and uncertain future and a brother he¡¯d butted heads with, but had always loved.


    In this throng, surrounded by the voices of his people, all this turmoil drifted into the heavens like their voices.


    As the third body was laid to rest at the base of the hill, Malik lifted up his voice to join with his people.


    ¡°Elesa volonai. Menassa elonai¡­¡±


    ¡°Utlesa sheshonash. Alesa renonash¡­¡±


    The entire song, Malik¡¯s father kept his hands raised. As the last line faded, slipping up into the misty night, Joren dropped his hands and turned to the surviving climbers.


    His eyes settled on Malik, and he nodded. Malik stepped forward as they had rehearsed. Riese, Yuri, and Ulgar joined him, and they were accompanied by Lera Pelesadeil, who came from Petyr¡¯s same clan. The other survivors formed up into two more groups. Five for each fallen climber.


    Malik and the others knelt at Petyr¡¯s side and bowed their heads. There was no sound but their breaths, and the shh-shh-ing of trees in the breeze.


    Bodies were not always found. Malik did not know whether these shrouds contained the remains of Petyr at all. That was a matter for Petyr¡¯s family, and them alone. From such a height, Malik knew Petyr¡¯s body would be hardly recognizable. Yet, the stretcher bore a human form wrapped in layers of white cloth, not a pile of crumpled bones.


    Derrin had been lost to the Abyss, and yet, his stretcher had looked similar. The lie had enraged Malik before, but seeing it now, he understood the words his father had spoken countless times.


    Our rituals matter, not because they are the fullness of what¡¯s true, but because they point to truth.


    Malik raised his head and stood. Each of the five greeted the members of Petyr¡¯s family with an embrace. Then, they gathered once more around the stretcher. Malik looked over at his companions. Lera trembled with silent sobs. Riese bit her lip. Yuri remained expressionless. Ulgar nodded to Malik, a lone tear trickling down the sharp features of his face.


    Malik nodded to them.


    They stooped down and lifted the stretcher. It was heavy, but manageable, and together, they strode back up the hill, raised the stretcher above their heads, and heaved Petyr Bromsein¡¯s remains into the central pyre.


    Flames rushed into the heavens.

 13 - Your Own Way

    ¡°You did well today, son.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve said that¡­¡±


    Malik followed his father deeper through the crypt tunnels that weaved beneath the base of the Kalengal Spires known by the Faltari as the Mountain of Souls. The tunnels themselves were woven with magical threads that glowed with an icy luminescence. All through the mountain, the caverns were lined, allowing just enough light to navigate without the aid of a torch.


    From the front entrance at the center of the valley, the cavern walls were also lined with narrow internment shelves, carved straight into the stone. This far down, most of the shelves remained empty. Further back up the tunnels, each box-like shelf contained a clay jar with the ashes of Faltari ancestors. Each shelf was decorated with items important to the deceased, and the jars themselves told their stories in a series of pictographic inscriptions.


    There was no rhyme or reason to the order of the shelves. Shamans chose the location at random, usually with the intent of separating each deceased person from their ancestors.


    In death, there are no families, no clans, Malik had been taught. This is the final reminder.


    And so, Faltari families were not laid to rest together as in other corners of the world. For similar reasons, the shamans held no clan identities, which was why Malik had not been marked by a fresh tattoo of jackal claws the night before the Ascent. A shaman¡¯s true and ultimate allegiance was only to the gods.


    None but the elders and the shamans visited these crypts, except to prepare the internment shelf on the day of burial.


    Up the tunnel, Malik could hear the murmurings of Petyr¡¯s family. They were the last family in the crypts, and Joren had elected to give them space, as he usually did.


    The crypts glowed brighter the deeper they descended into the heart of the spires.


    ¡°I mean it, son,¡± Joren said, pausing to turn to him.


    Malik glanced away. His father¡¯s face was painted. Dark wells of ink splotched around his eyes. Slashes of blue graced his cheeks and the shaved sides of his head. It was ceremonial custom for a shaman, but Malik had always hated looking into those dark wells ever since he was a child.


    Next year, his face would be thus painted as well. And all the years after, and somehow, everything about this ceremony felt like an immense weight. As though his destiny were closing in around him, pressing down like the mountain above, walls collapsing and crushing him under the pressure.


    His father¡¯s hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his own thoughts.


    ¡°Even death is a lesson, Malik.¡±


    ¡°Everything¡¯s a lesson to you,¡± he murmured. ¡°Nothing more than an excuse to me. To soften the blow from the exact result we should expect for sending our youth up the Spires every year. These deaths are a curse we bring on ourselves. Not a lesson.¡±


    His father scowled, the whites of his eyes feeling spectre-like against the dark rings decorating his face.


    Joren sighed. ¡°Come.¡±


    They descended further into the mountain. Malik knew where they were going, and the dread creeped in as they neared.


    The burial tunnels wended down, growing brighter and brighter before reaching a door made of stone, etched in ancient runes. A language from that dead world, just like the dirge their people sang.


    Joren uttered words in the ancient tongue as he pressed his right palm against the stone.


    ¡°Melana esso tanai.¡± Joren issued a soft pulse of hish as he uttered the spell.


    The stone groaned, and Joren pressed firmly with both palms. The door shifted open, grinding against the floor of the chamber.


    A flood of brilliant light ushered forth, so bright, it took Malik several moments, even with the aid of hish, to adjust his vision.


    The floor of theroom beyond was blanketed with threads of magic, drawing from the heart of the mountain toward the center of the room, where a coalescence of magic formed in a pool of ethereal mists. Malik could feel the warm presence of spirit resonances all around the chamber.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    All the caverns behind were frigid, but here, Malik quickly grew flushed in his cloak. Joren led the way across the chamber, removing his thick shaman¡¯s cloak, and then his shirt. His father¡¯s back was covered in paint¡ªsymbols of the clans, runic incantations, transcriptions of tales.


    There was much he had yet to learn about all the rites that surrounded the Festival of the Ascension. Next year.


    Malik removed his own cloak, and together, father and son stood at the edge of the pool.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, son,¡± Joren said.


    ¡°About what?¡±


    ¡°Of course we ask for this. We choose to send our young up the Spires. We choose to send them to a dead world. What it means to us is also a choice.¡±


    ¡°It feels like nothing more than a needless sacrifice. Like the heathens from that dead world slaughtering their children in great wars.¡±


    ¡°It is a sacrifice, but it is also a lesson. Because that is the perspective our people chose long ago.¡±


    ¡°Even Derrin,¡± Malik said. ¡°Even his death was a lesson?¡±


    Joren gestured toward the pool. ¡°Why don¡¯t you find out, son?¡±


    Malik crossed his arms, a lump in his chest. He hadn¡¯t been here since Derrin died. He knew what his father wanted of him, but he was not sure he could do it.


    ¡°He¡¯s waited a long time,¡± Joren said. ¡°I haven¡¯t pressed you. Everyone must face loss in their own way. But you¡¯re hurting, son. And I think he may offer you some comfort.¡±


    ¡°You and I both know it might not even be him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve visited your brother on two occasions. Whether it is his spirit, or a manifestation of my own¡­ it is no less sacred.¡±


    Malik released his clenched fists and took a long breath. His spirit was in turmoil. He knew his father was right, and yet, even that very truth was shrouded in anger and frustration, and Malik didn¡¯t know why.


    He drew another long inhalation and slowly released it, attempting to release the tension in his body as best he could.


    Joren patted his shoulder.


    And Malik removed his fur-lined boots and stepped into the ethereal pool.


    It was wet. Warm. A pool fed from deep in the heart of the mountain. But it was much more than water.


    A rush of light surged through the mists. Magic swirled around him, filled with resonances of ancestral spirits. The subtle vibrations of hish that he¡¯d learned to recognize hummed with a soft and steady cadence. Like waves beating the shore or the crackle of fire. Despite the fact that all of them were dead, Malik was struck by the realization that all these spirits were at peace. No anger or bitterness surged in this place.


    Striving is the stuff of life, he thought. What awaits is peace.


    His father had taught him these words when his grandmother passed from the world. He had emphasized them again when Derrin fell.


    No one knows what awaits, Malik thought.


    But in the warm presence of the resonances surrounding him, the thought drifted away. His body relaxed, and then, all at once. The mists parted around him, forming a space in their midst. And one resonance drew close.


    Malik recognized that vibrant spiritual thrum immediately.


    A face appeared from the mists, formed of visible manifestations of the breath of the gods.


    Derrin beamed at him, his face like a dim reflection of the remarkable young man he¡¯d been in life.


    ¡°I think your Ascent may have been even more exciting than mine, little brother.¡±


    Malik tensed at the voice, reminding himself that this might not be Derrin¡¯s resonance at all. Spirits were mysterious, even devious, as he¡¯d seen in the Abyss. But it sounded just like him. Felt just like him.


    Malik couldn¡¯t hold back a smile. ¡°I¡¯d have taken a boring Ascent, I think.¡±


    ¡°Ah, but that wouldn¡¯t have made for a very good story. You did well, Mal. I¡¯m beyond proud. We all are.¡±


    ¡°All?¡± said Malik.


    Derrin¡¯s smile widened.


    Malik shrugged, knowing he¡¯d get no straight answers from spectres.


    ¡°You did all you could,¡± Derrin said. ¡°There is never shame in that.¡±


    ¡°Even when it¡¯s not enough?¡±


    ¡°No amount of striving is ever enough. It takes death to understand the beauty in that.¡±


    Malik huffed. ¡°You sound like father.¡±


    ¡°I did train with him for many years.¡±


    Malik looked away, suddenly jolted back to the turmoil surging inside him.


    ¡°I know why you haven¡¯t come down here,¡± Derrin said. ¡°I can¡¯t say I blame you. I put you in a bit of a¡­ precarious situation. Dying and everything.¡±


    Malik couldn¡¯t help himself. It was so like Derrin to make a joke, even about his own death. The mists swirled with the mirth of their laughter.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s been hard on you,¡± said Derrin. ¡°You were never supposed to be shaman. And then, you were. But you showed your mettle today, little brother. The way you helped Petyr in the Abyss. Ulgar on the bridge of vines.¡±


    ¡°You could see all that?¡±


    ¡°Resonances,¡± said Derrin.


    ¡°You can see us in the Abyss? Even father can¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Father is still striving. Much wisdom comes with death. It is no tragedy.¡±


    Malik grimaced, shifting his feet and stirring up the mists.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to be like me, you know,¡± said Derrin. ¡°Or like father. You¡¯ll find your own way to serve our people.¡±


    The words washed over Malik. Mists swirled and slowly evaporated, and he could feel Derrin¡¯s resonance slipping away, joining the throng of others in the crypts. Leaving a lingering ache of absence.


    Malik didn¡¯t move for some time.


    His brother had struck at the core of his anger and frustration, and yet, Malik had lived as a shaman for the past year, and he did not see how his brother could be right.


    Malik longed for the Jackal claws etched into his forearms, just like Riese and Yuri. He longed for more than prayers and healings and tending to the dead.


    The Ascent itself had dredged this awareness back to the surface. The thrill of the climb, battles with jackals and dragyrs, fleeing from wights of the Abyss. Even the storm itself, though terrifying, had been exhilarating.


    His one and only adventure was done.


    And now¡­


    Joren¡¯s hand clasped his shoulder. ¡°Petyr¡¯s family has finished their burial preparations. I think they would find comfort with you making the final rites.¡±


    Malik took a long breath, a part of him wanting to refuse.


    But just as he had during his Ascent, he knew he must be more.

 14 - Oathbound

    The Festival of the Ascendant always left Joren feeling bitterly torn.


    Ceremonies went on for two more days. Once the fallen were interred, the Ascension became a blissful celebration. Every clan gathered the finest from their respective harvests¡ªpotatoes and berries, shellfish and pikes, stags and groundlings.


    Village bards recounted Ascents of the past with thrilling embellishments. Mead flowed from barrels in abundance, followed by long nights of dancing and contests.


    It was a jester¡¯s bet around the island among old and young, guessing how many children would be conceived as a result of the festivities. As well as how many injuries would occur. Mostly from the wild hunts that arose after the smoking of a certain concoction known as shintash, which dulled the sense of fear and pain, and sent hunters on one of the most thrilling chases of their lives.


    It, like many of the other festivities that accompanied Ascension, was a ritual Joren had always cringed at, but which his own father and grandfather and all the shamans that had come before had all insisted was necessary to maintain peace on the Isle of Faltara.


    There was plenty of infighting among the clans the rest of the year, but the joy found during the Ascension provided unity. It lowered barriers, formed unbreakable bonds. Dragyr clansmen fought alongside Serpents for the hides of stags and sometimes even bears. Jackal kin bore children with Sabers. And the people of Faltara were reminded that they remained one people, despite the year¡¯s poor harvests on the western side of the island, despite territorial disputes over hunting grounds, and the inevitable conflicts that incurred over a thief or harlot from one clan or another.


    The Ascension was an annual reminder of what they¡¯d left in the world before, and why they¡¯d chosen their secluded life on this island in the first place. In other corners of the world, nations slaughtered one another over such disputes, but here on the Isle of Faltara, they had found a way to exist another way. When this Festival was done, they would leave these mountains, and the outside world would be welcomed for days of feasting and trading at the port village of Yerida.


    The Festival of the Fading Sun, when they would be unified once more before a short autumn and a cruel winter. When they would welcome foreigners, trading for tools and southern grains,


    On occasion, one of their own chose to sail off with some charismatic trader, to see the world. It was common enough, the ritual was given a name¡ªuhmskara.


    The Wandering.


    But within a year or two, the youths almost always returned. The outside world was never as sweet as they imagined from songs and tales. Joren knew this all too well, for he had once gone on a Wandering of his own, after his own Ascension.


    But that felt like a lifetime ago.


    Joren kept close to Madri through the final days of the festival, both of them keeping a close eye on Surel, who had blossomed into a young woman since the last festival. Overnight, it seemed to Joren, and more than one of the village boys had taken a sudden attraction to her.


    Since the funeral rites, Joren had seen little of his son, and he kept reminding himself this was normal for a boy just come of age. Surely, no different than any of the other young men and women of the island. But no matter how he tried, he felt a growing distance from his son. In his spirit. Much like he¡¯d once felt for his own shaman father.


    A sense that had been growing steadily ever since Derrin¡¯s death, like a fishing boat trawling peacefully beyond the fjord, until suddenly, you realized you no longer recognized the shoreline.


    All through the ceremonies, bodies passed Joren like vessels in the darkness. Resonances flashing in his spiritual sight. Voices echoing across great distances.


    A shaman¡¯s role was minimal during the heart of the festival, and at times, Joren¡¯s very existence felt anchored by little more than exchanges of pleasantries between passing ships.


    Perhaps it was the necessity of a shaman, but for so long, Joren had felt like a soul set adrift amongst his people, tethered to a body that was not his own. And some deep part of him felt certain it ought not to be this way.


    There was an inherent separateness unavoidable for his role, sure, but he was also more vital and connected than most others on the island could ever imagine. For Joren shared a spiritual connection with them.


    But with that connection came knowledge. Joren, more than any other¡ªeven more than the village chieftains¡ªhad peered behind all the curtains, understood all that made his people who and what they were. And the weight of it pressed upon him.


    As the festival whirled around him in colorful bursts of joy and color and song, Joren could not shake a feeling of brokenness and failure. Even his own children felt separate now.


    If not for Madri, Joren felt sure he would lose himself to the spirit realms.


    Just when he felt like he might slip away, always she would usher him back with some comment. A warm squeeze of the hand, pulling him into a conversation with an old friend of his mother¡¯s. Pointing to laugh as a Saber boy¡¯s awkward attempt at flirtation sailed right over the head of their oblivious young daughter. Drawing his attention as the sun dipped behind the Spires and fiery colors radiated across the skies.


    Each moment warded off the dread of the rites to come at the close of the festival.


    ***


    Alkine horns bellowed across the valley, and Malik waited at the back of the crowd, joy and triumph and melancholy churning in his spirit.


    On the final night of the festival, the Ascendant were paraded once more before the four clans. Torches lit up the mountain valley in myriad colors, burning a special powder reserved only for the sacred dragon ceremonies. Flames of indigo and emerald and magenta cast the entire sea of faces in a magical light, every color and sound intended to magnify the brilliance of what each climber presented.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    Little boys and girls from every clan paraded first, waving banners and twirling vibrant ribbons of cloth. When they reached the crest of the knoll at the base of the Mountains of Souls, they released the cloths, with a soft rush of hish.


    Dancers followed. Then, more horns. And then, the climbers themselves to beat of drums.


    For the past several days, the dragon eggs had been stowed in a sacred chest, guarded at all times.


    With the festival¡¯s many distractions, the entire ordeal in the Spires had begun to feel like a dream for Malik. Until his fingers brushed over the thick ridges of emerald once more. The dragon scales caught the light and flashed like prisms as the climbers made their way towards flames once more.


    The clan elders greeted each Ascendant as they crested the hill. Flames from a single towering pyre shot into the skies behind them, dancing and crackling, while drumbeats thundered and echoed off the walls of the secluded valley.


    Aram Tulsein reached the elders first and held his dark blue egg aloft, eliciting cheers across the valley. Then, he took his place standing before the pyre, facing the clans.


    ¡°Get ready, son,¡± Joren murmured.


    They were to bring up the rear of the procession.


    In his hands, Malik sensed a soft resonance emanating from within the shell of hollow stone, and he could not suppress a swell of sadness. He had not accessed hish since he¡¯d returned from his Ascent¡ªever since he¡¯d begun shaman training, it felt overwhelming in such crowds. Reaching for it now, the weight of this sacrifice pressed on his spirit.


    Dormant for centuries, Malik knew without doubt there was life inside this egg. Even in the Abyss, he¡¯d sensed the dragon spirit.


    Riese and Yuri marched ahead of him, walking with the other Ascendant of the Jackal clan.


    Joren nodded to him.


    Malik held a deep breath, released, and set out in front of the crowd, his dragon egg held at chest level. He¡¯d spent the afternoon scrubbing and polishing the emerald scales. Up close, they contained far more colors, and the shell refracted the torchlight with breathtaking brilliance. Malik could feel the gaze of the crowd as though it were something physical. He held his head high and forced himself to focus only on the feelings of joy in his spirit. His mother and sister stood near the front of the crowd, beaming with smiles as he passed, and he found himself smiling in spite of himself.


    As he summited the hill, horns blared one last time, and the valley went silent. Malik bowed a greeting to each elder, and then lastly, he bowed to his father.


    Malik held his egg above his head and the final chorus of cheers resounded across the valley.


    Joren, dressed in the colors of all four clans, held up his hands, and the people quietened.


    ¡°The life we share on this island is a good life, a beautiful life,¡± Joren began. It was a similar speech every year. ¡°But it has not come without sacrifice. It is a truth the world over that you can never fully appreciate something until it is gone. It is this truth that lies at the heart of the Ascension ceremony. To remember where we came from. To recall what was left behind, and the life we formed anew. And perhaps most importantly, to remember what we forsake to maintain this peaceful existence.


    ¡°The world beyond is not so different from that dead world we left behind. Beyond our shores, empires rise and fall. Nations slaughter one another over arbitrary borders. Dragon riders destroy ships and armies, entire villages. In the days to come, we will welcome emissaries from many shores. It is important we do not forget that this world is not ours alone. But tonight marks the way in which we are different. We do not live this life of peace by accident. It is a choice. To forsake the darkness and embrace the light. Our Ascendant have once again faced that darkness, and they have returned the braver and the wiser for it. They have tested themselves. Now, let their sacrifice be complete.¡±


    Malik¡¯s gut twisted as Aram Tulsein stepped forward one last time. Malik had never seen a dragon. There were few on the island who had, but he had heard the tales of the riders of the Attican Empire. He could imagine one of the dragyrs he¡¯d faced during his Ascent, and picture them five or ten times that size. Even the thought filled him with terror and awe. But he could not deny, there was a part of him that longed to see it. A part of him that wished this didn¡¯t happen have to be done. Malik could feel a similar turmoil in the spirits of most of his fellow Ascendant.


    But Aram stepped forward without hesitation. He held his dark blue egg aloft and spoke the words they¡¯d all heard every year for their entire lives.


    ¡°I am Faltari. A descendant of the gods. I do not long for an easy life. I choose a sacred path, and I am ready to sacrifice what is required for the good of the clans. May the world be brighter for our burning.¡±


    Aram turned to the raging pyre behind the Ascendant and hurled the dragon egg into the flames.


    The blaze engulfed the egg, and for several seconds, nothing happened. Aram stood before the pyre, studying the flames with his hands slack at his sides. Then, a surge of dark blue shot high into the air.


    Horns blared across the valley, and the Faltari cheered at the destruction of the most powerful weapon in the world.


    Aram turned to the villagers, and recited the final words.


    ¡°I have seen the destruction of the worlds of old. And I turn from it. I will not speak of the things I¡¯ve seen.¡±


    From the flames a surge of hish burst forth. It was not visible, but Malik could sense the magic, as Aram was bound to his oath.


    Aram looked down at the tattoos on his wrist. The wings of the sacred Dragyr glowed with a fiery light, and his oath was complete.


    He pumped his fist, grinning.


    Malik was again wracked with a deep sense of sorrow. He gripped his own egg tighter, the resonance within suddenly overwhelming, as though it were reaching for him.


    Was that what it was? Or was his spirit playing games with his mind?


    Ulgar stepped forward, and continued the ritual. One by one, the newest generation completed their sacrifice. Plumes of purples and reds and oranges exploded from the flames. Oaths seered themselves into the skin of each Faltari woman and man.


    Yuri stepped forward and completed the deed and recited the oath.


    And then, Riese.


    Malik could sense hesitation in her spirit as she stepped up to the pyre. Her ability to hold fierce tenacity and ambition alongside compassion had always impressed Malik. She did not even visibly pause, but as she stepped toward the flames, Malik felt the hitch in her spirit. A lone tear trickled down her cheek.


    But she, too, cast her egg into the flames.


    Now, it was Malik¡¯s turn, and for a fraction of a moment, he allowed his mind to entertain a scenario.


    According to Faltari legend, centuries past, not long after their flight from their previous world, one young shaman named Rayne Seversein had refused the oaths, had stolen a batch of eggs, and left the island seeking power and fame. Some claimed he went on to found the Attican Empire, after a great and fraught journey across this new world.


    Malik had no idea if this was history or legend. How had Rayne managed the incantations to hatch the eggs if no one else knew about dragons?


    But it didn¡¯t matter. Suddenly, Malik understood why the man might have been so compelled. In his mind, he imagined himself fleeing, journeying the breadth of the world in search of the proper spells, perhaps finding some old hag with ancient tomes from the dead world, hatching the egg, tending to the dragon as it grew from a hatchling to a beast capable of snatching stags up in a dive, to a fire-breathing behemoth capable of destroying entire armies. He pictured himself returning to Faltara on dragonback and running off with a following of other descendants of the gods.


    Malik the warrior. The leader. The world shaker.


    His vision shrouded in flames, and he was jolted back to reality, to the egg in his hands, which he knew he must destroy.


    He closed his eyes for a moment, then, met his father¡¯s gaze. Joren nodded to him, eyes dark holes of black paint, hair braided with the tiny bones of all four of the sacred beasts of Faltara.


    Malik shuddered at the thoughts that had nearly overtaken him. He stepped forward, reminded, as he knew was intended, that power and glory was a temptation they all must overcome. He ignored the resonance in the shell between his hands and approached the pyre.


    Searing heat pressed against his face, making his eyes water. He drew back, suppressing the screams in his mind, and hurled the egg into the flames.

 15 - Trapped

    The Ascension celebrations continued late into the night. As the dragon pyre burned down to embers at the center of the valley, the people of Faltara danced and drank and feasted. The pain of the sacrifice still lingered in Malik¡¯s spirit, despite the joy surrounding him.


    Not the dragon egg, so much as the climb itself. Petyr and his brother and uncle, and all the other Faltari youths over the years.


    ¡°Come on!¡± Yuri shouted, pulling him into a circle of dancers. Malik¡¯s hand was suddenly pressed into the palm of a Feathered Serpent girl two years his junior. ¡°Have fun like the old days, Malik!¡±


    The girl¡¯s fingers were slender and warm, and her smile shone bright in the colored torchlight. Her cheeks turned red, but she held his gaze and smiled. Long blonde braids were tied behind her head with blue ribbons.


    The dancing circle shifted directions, and the girl tugged him along after her.


    Yuri clasped his other hand, stumbling, because his gaze was so fixed on the girl behind him. The dance shifted again, and they all broke out into partners.


    Malik had never been a great dancer. After a couple foolhardy moves, his partner pulled him close and whispered, ¡°Just follow my lead, shaman. Okay?¡±


    Not shaman¡¯s son, Malik thought absently.


    The girl shifted, soft hands pressing against his own, turning his hips and his feet followed. The two of them broke apart, and she twirled, the feathers of her blue dress flashing in resplendent colors, and then, she was back. And Malik felt warm all over.


    Have fun like the old days!


    He knew Yuri was right. Three years ago, they¡¯d danced till sunrise. Malik¡¯s moves had been no better, but he hadn¡¯t cared. It had been fun, and that was all that mattered. That night, Malik had kissed a girl for the first time¡ªa spritely Saber girl¡ªand Yuri had found out the hard way that Riese was not into him at all. Or any other boy.


    Yuri was howling with laughter nearby. Malik guessed he¡¯d had half a dozen ales by now, and even for a husky young man, Malik guessed he¡¯d be collapsed at the edge of the ring any minute.


    Riese danced with a young Dragyr woman who¡¯d Ascended last year. She had uncharacteristically dark hair and icy blue eyes.


    The Feathered Serpent girl guided Malik through the remainder of the song, then, the music picked up, and everyone began alternating partners, locking arms briefly and twirling, then, carrying on around the circle. Malik always had a hard time keeping up with the constant transitions of these types of dances. Everyone seemed to know when to pause or twirl or spin their partner or change partners, and he found himself freezing up.


    He exchanged a couple awkward dances before partnering with Riese momentarily. She winked at him.


    ¡°She¡¯s cute,¡± said Riese, pulling him toward her. She shifted their arms over his head and slid them back out again, ending with a clap, before drawing close again.


    Malik shrugged, fighting a blush. ¡°Yours too.¡±


    Riese glanced away, and Malik sensed a shift in her spirit, though she remained smiling.


    They stepped back, then pressed together, and Riese whispered in his ear. ¡°Enjoy yourself, shaman. After the past two years, you deserve it.¡±


    Partners shifted again, and the Feathered Serpent girl was back.


    At last the music slowed, and the girl drew closer. Malik could feel the warmth of her presence and her resonance was even stronger.


    The top of her head barely reached his chin, despite Malik¡¯s altogether average height. Her full cheeks were ruddy, blonde braids damp at her temples, and her chest heaved from the exertion. She smiled up at him.


    ¡°You dance alright,¡± she said, still leading the slow dance. ¡°But I think you¡¯re a better climber.¡±


    Malik blushed. ¡°I don¡¯t know about that.¡±


    ¡°It was brave what you did, Malik,¡± she insisted, as though she¡¯d watched it.


    ¡°Er, thanks, uh¡­¡± Malik realized he¡¯d never asked her name.


    ¡°Syrese,¡± she said. ¡°We met at the festival three years ago.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± said Malik, not remembering. ¡°I, er, thought you looked familiar.¡±


    ¡°You were a bit distracted that night,¡± she said with a wink. ¡°And I was still a kid, then. I didn¡¯t expect you to remember me.¡±


    Sometimes Malik hated how small the island was.


    Syrese pulled close, then pushed away and spun left, then right, and he followed her movements, before settling in together again.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re no kid now,¡± he said, instantly wishing he would have thought of something better.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Syrese whispered, pressing close again. Her cheek nestled into his chest. ¡°I think you¡¯re brave, risking your life that way. After the past two¡­ well, no one would have blamed you, if you¡¯d just looked out for yourself. My mum says that¡¯s the mark of a good shaman.¡±


    Malik drew back a little.


    ¡°What?¡± she asked.


    The others danced around them, but Malik had seized up.


    ¡°Sorry, I just don¡¯t wanna to talk about all that.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t ignore the darkness, right?¡± she recited. ¡°We move through it together.¡± Syrese interlaced her fingers with his.


    Malik pulled back, creating space between them.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Her bottom lip trembled.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t want to talk about the Ascent, Syrese.¡±


    ¡°Is it me?¡±


    ¡°Er, what?¡±


    ¡°I might not be some wild huntress like Riese Torendeil, but¡­¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Malik rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s not that, and besides, Riese¡ª¡±


    Syrese¡¯s hands were at her hips. ¡°Then what? I¡¯m not pretty enough for you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Malik said, bewildered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You¡¯re very cute, I just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Cute? I¡¯m not a bloody child, shaman!¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure I just¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just too young for a brand new Ascended, am I?¡±


    ¡°Gods,¡± Malik said. ¡°You¡¯re very pretty, is what I meant.¡±


    A tear streamed down the girl¡¯s cheek, and then, as though catching herself just before hysterics, her face contorted, lips pursing angrily. Syrese stepped forward and shoved him in the chest.


    Malik stumbled back, nearly tripping over a dancing couple. ¡°Look, maybe, we should just¡­¡±


    ¡°You have no idea how lucky you almost were, shaman!¡±


    With that, Syrese stormed away, leaving Malik alone, couples twirling around him. Nearby, Yuri shook his head, a gaping laugh on his face.


    Malik hurried from the dance circle, weaved his way amidst the torch-lined lanes, past tents spilling dream smoke, past a group of laughing old men gathered drunkenly round a small barrel of imported szaka.


    He reached the edge of the festival and kept going, until the grass grew long, and Malik was wading through it thigh-high. He reached the top of a hill, and took a seat beneath a broad-limbed socha tree. From here, the Spires loomed at the edge of the valley. He could see the entire festival to his right, and to his left, the vast rim of mountains that formed the spine of the island, extending all the way to the glaciers of the north.


    Nothing could match the view from the top of the Spires, but this was one of his favorite places on the island, looking out on the whole valley.


    Red leaves were just beginning to fall from the trees, and as he sat, a few drifted out over the valley, slipping from the fingers of the long and twisting limbs. Malik turned from the festivities, and gazed up at the stars, swirls of light brushing across the indigo skies like dyes.


    Women remained an utter mystery to him. Malik could only sit and marvel at how quickly his encounter with Syrese had turned from flirting to utter floundering. How instantly he¡¯d felt like the girl was suffocating him, pulling him into the maelstrom of a writhing past and an inevitable future.


    ¡°Well, that went well.¡±


    Malik turned to find Riese cresting the hill toward him. The shaved side of her head was painted with the claw marks of the Jackal clan, and her face had been dusted with a cosmetic that made her pale skin shimmer. She shook her head and chuckled as she neared.


    ¡°I believe I told you to enjoy yourself.¡±


    Malik shrugged. ¡°Who says I¡¯m not?¡±


    ¡°Heh, fair enough,¡± said Riese. ¡°Can I sit? Or are you enjoying yourself by yourself?¡±


    ¡°You could phrase that better.¡±


    Riese grinned. ¡°If I wanted to¡­¡±


    He rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Okay, fine,¡± she said. ¡°Would you rather be alone, Malik?¡±


    ¡°No, you can¡ª¡±


    But Riese was already plopping down in the grass beside him. ¡°Wanna talk about it?¡±


    ¡°Syrese?¡± Malik said with a laugh. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°And the reason for you running away from a cute girl who was very much into you?¡±


    ¡°Cute, that was the whole problem. Thanks for that, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Never mind. What about your dancing partner?¡± Malik asked.


    Riese shrugged and turned to him, holding his gaze. ¡°You¡¯re still one of my best friends, Malik. Even now that you¡¯re shaman. I hope you know that.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Yuri feels the same way, even though he¡¯d just make it some joke. We¡¯ve missed you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a hunter anymore,¡± said Malik. ¡°Not even part of the clan any¡ª¡±


    ¡°Things change. That¡¯s life. Doesn¡¯t mean they can¡¯t change together.¡±


    Malik nodded. Words only meant so much. The reality was that Malik would serve all the clans. He wasn¡¯t a Jackal anymore. Riese would be a hunter for the clan, like Malik had planned to be. Yuri would build longhouses for the Jackals and tend crops. And sure, Malik would be around. He¡¯d preside over their weddings, bless their children, tend their fallen kin, but he would be set apar. His father had no real friends besides his mother.


    And why couldn¡¯t Derrin have just bloody stayed alive? he thought bitterly.


    They sat in silence for several minutes. But with friends like Riese, it was comfortable.


    ¡°I¡¯ve hardly slept all week,¡± Riese said eventually. He looked over. Here alone, she¡¯d quit smiling, quit putting on a front. She looked exhausted.


    ¡°Really?¡± Malik asked. ¡°The climb? The wights?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± she said. ¡°Must be¡­¡±


    Riese never finished her thought, and the silence stretched on again.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t slept much either,¡± Malik said. ¡°It¡¯s not just Petyr. I mean, I¡¯m sorry he died. But I didn¡¯t know him that well, and deep down, I know there¡¯s nothing more I could have done.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ what is it?¡± Riese asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ everything. Becoming shaman, my brother, my father, this damn island.¡±


    Riese chuckled. ¡°You ran away from Syrese because of your father and the damn island?¡±


    Malik sighed. ¡°I feel trapped. Like I¡¯m still up there in that storm huddled against the wind, waiting for everything to let up, but it won¡¯t. This is my life now. Funerals and ceremonies and tending spirits. And¡­ it¡¯s not me, Riese. You know it¡¯s not.¡±


    Riese scooted closer, placed her arm on his shoulder. Then, punched him.


    ¡°Ow! What was that for?¡±


    ¡°Come on, Malik. You think I don¡¯t know what all that feels like? To have to pretend to be something I¡¯m not?¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Of course it wasn¡¯t what you meant. Because you didn¡¯t even think about that. My parents don¡¯t know who I really am. They think Lysa is just a friend from another clan. And even if they did know, it wouldn¡¯t matter. Do know what they were doing while you were off tending spirits?¡±


    Malik shook his head, a sinking feeling in his gut.


    ¡°Introducing me to my match,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Oh¡­ er, who is it?¡±


    ¡°Vinder Perinsein. Ascended last year.¡±


    ¡°I know him. From Kendryk¡¯s village. Good hunter, I hear. They didn¡¯t ask for your input at all?¡±


    ¡°Sure, they did. What was I supposed to say, Malik? Vinder¡¯s a fine hunter. A good man. And I¡¯m meant to carry on the damn bloodline. Bear kids, preserve the ways of the island.


    Malik looked into her eyes and shook his head. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Riese. I didn¡¯t¡­¡±


    Riese laid her head on his shoulder and sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who feels trapped, Malik. I knew this was coming, and I just¡­ couldn¡¯t say anything. Not to my father. And you know what, maybe I don¡¯t know what I want, okay? Me and Lisa had fun, but it¡¯s never been anything outside the festivals¡­. I wish I didn¡¯t have to figure it out already. We just bloody came of age. And ever since we got back¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°When I was up on top of the Spires, looking out at the world beyond, all I could think was how I wished I could sail away from this place. And when I cast my egg into the fire¡­ I felt like I was throwing away that chance for good.¡±


    Malik glanced away from her, feeling ashamed at his self-absorption the past few days. The past two years. ¡°I¡¯ve felt the same way.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± said Riese softly.


    ¡°Is that why you came up here?¡±


    ¡°I came to be with my friend,¡± Riese said, her head still on his shoulder. Malik wrapped his arm around her, and they sat like that for a long time. The music began to quieten in the valley below.


    For a moment, Malik envisioned them running away on uhmskara just like his father. Sailing to Beirus or Valgland, maybe even Attica. Seeing for themselves why their ancestors had chosen to remain on the island while all the other peoples who passed through the Gate of the Ancients during the Crossing had sailed off and formed new civilizations, new nations, and forgot all about where they¡¯d come from.


    And why shouldn¡¯t they go on a Wandering?


    Malik¡¯s father still had many years to serve their people. Surel wouldn¡¯t Ascend for another three years.


    Maybe the island would need him one day. But not now.


    A cold wind rose up from the valley below, and both of them shivered, neither wearing their fur winter cloaks. It had been a warm evening, but autumn could be deceptive, especially in the Kalengal peaks.


    Malik glanced at Riese. She was not watching the festival, but gazing up at the Spires.


    Tomorrow, they would venture out of the valley, all of them gathering at the base of the Kalengal Mountains, in the coastal village of Yerida, for the Festival of the Fading Sun, a couple days of trading ad feasting before the clans went their separate ways for another long winter.


    ¡°We should go back, shouldn¡¯t we?¡± Riese said.


    Malik nodded, though he didn¡¯t want to. Silently, they strode down the hill back to the encampment. Most of their people had turned in, or were gathered around dwindling fires.


    ¡°You know,¡± said Riese. ¡°Usually I¡¯m glad to leave by the end of the festival. Tired of the cold nights and the threat of jackals, and sabers. Excited to see the traders and feel the warm air again. But right now, I wish we had a few more days. I wish¡­¡±


    Again, that hitch in her spirit. Something she wanted to say. Something she was¡ª


    ¡°Malik, there you are!¡±


    He turned to find Surel bounding toward him, her dark grey dress fluttering behind her. Her lips formed a strange grin.


    ¡°Father¡¯s been looking for you for hours!¡± she said, giggling. ¡°He¡¯s not very happy, and when he hears you were running off with Riese when you had duties to¡ª¡±


    ¡°What duties?¡± said Malik.

 16 - Truths Unspeakable

    Malik and his father walked to the edge of the Faltari encampment, and ascended the hill where the dragon pyre had long since dwindled.


    Together, they hauled a pair of engraved wooden chests in a small wagon. The chests were covered in ancient runes from before the Crossing and contained urns for gathering ashes of the dragon eggs, just as Malik¡¯s people would gather the cremated remains of one of their island kin. But for dragons, it was a ritual that belonged to the shamans alone.


    The valley had gone silent. No tents were erected within at least one hundred yards from the pyres, and Joren and Malik were entirely alone. They retrieved long metal rods and began shifting the smoldering remnants of logs away from the center of the fire.


    Malik was glad for the effort. His cloak was thin, and his skin pricked with shivers. Even the coals were barely warm any longer.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry it¡¯s so late, Father,¡± Malik murmured.


    Joren shook his head. They worked together to move a particularly large log. ¡°The ritual is always late, but I must remind you, you have duties that surpass any other matter now. Whether it be a festival, or something more personal.¡±


    ¡°Father?¡±


    ¡°You were with Riese, were you not?¡± Joren¡¯s face was solemn.


    Malik rolled his eyes. ¡°She¡¯s a friend, nothing more.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I know,¡± Joren said. ¡°Like a sister. I expect you¡¯ve always been closer to Riese than your own sister. And I know you¡¯d never speak of it, out of respect for your friend¡¯s privacy. But as shaman, we sense much about our people, like when someone¡¯s words and actions do not match the timbre of their spirit.¡±


    ¡°Father?¡±


    ¡°All of us must sort through such feelings to some extent. Learning to navigate the treacherous shores of duty and family and one¡¯s own desires. It always requires balance, and often sacrifice. Certainly, I had to learn this when I was your age.¡±


    Malik¡¯s father had never spoken of his journey to the outside world, but Malik knew that was what he was hinting at.


    ¡°For Riese, I think it¡¯s a little different.¡±


    Joren patted him on the shoulder and smiled. ¡°Yes, I believe you¡¯re right. And for you?¡±


    Malik heaved at one more large cinder and heaved it aside. He could feel only slight warmth through his leather boots.


    Surely, his father sensed something off with him since his Descent. Since his brother¡¯s death. Was he acknowledging it? Speaking against the thoughts Malik entertained? Why couldn¡¯t fathers and shamans ever just speak plainly?


    ¡°What do you want from me, Father?¡±


    Joren sighed. ¡°I want you to find your way.¡±


    ¡°Why did you runaway after your Ascent? Why did you come back? Why don¡¯t you ever talk about it?¡±


    Joren traded his pick for a wooden shovel. ¡°Bring an urn, would you?¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Malik sighed and stepped out of the ashes, shifting the latch and opening the first runemarked chest. It was empty. He opened the second, and found the urns. Each one had been fashioned to look just like each of the dragon eggs retrieved during the Ascent. The clay makers from the Feathered Serpents were especially adept with dyes. At the top was Aram Tulsein¡¯s dark blue urn. Malik retrieved it and, with a twist at the center, the clay egg opened. It was remarkable how similar the urns were in size and weight to the original eggs they replicated.


    Joren scooped a small shovelful of ash, and Malik closed up the egg and set it in the empty chest.


    So the process went for several more eggs. Removing the urns from one chest, placing a small scoop of ash within, and replacing the urns in the other chest. When the time came for Malik¡¯s own emerald urn, he felt only a dim sense of melancholy about the loss.


    Neither he nor his father spoke as they performed the rites. Tomorrow, each climber would inter their egg in the crypts at the base of the spires, and they would journey back down the passes to the sea.


    Malik set his own egg in the second chest, and reached for another.


    When he turned, his father had stopped digging. Joren stooped down in the ash and motioned Malik over. At first, Malik thought his father had struck a rock at the base of the pyre. Joren brushed at the stone with a bare hand, exposing the soft ridges of dark blue scales.


    It was Aram Tulsein¡¯s egg.


    Joren pointed to another spot beneath a pair of crossed cinders, and Malik stooped, heart racing. He brushed away the ash, revealing crimson scales.


    Riese¡¯s egg.


    The scales were shimmering with a light they¡¯d not possessed before. A faint inner glow.


    He looked to his father.


    ¡°Th-the eggs¡­ they don¡¯t truly burn?¡±


    Joren hesitated. ¡°Most of them are destroyed. Most of these eggs could never have been hatched, left dormant for too long perhaps. But there are always one or two that survive the flames. It is how dragon eggs have always been tested, I expect.¡±


    Malik drew a long breath. His chest tightened, as though the air had suddenly grown thin.


    ¡°Tomorrow we will take the urns to the Hall of the Ancients, as we always do.¡±


    It was a vast cavern beneath the crypts and the Well of Souls. Walls were etched in runes and pictographs, telling the tales of the Crossing. Malik had never seen it. Only those who came of age as they buried their eggs for good.


    ¡°You asked why I left the island,¡± Joren murmured. ¡°Because I learned an unspeakable truth. One I could never share until this moment. Until it became yours to bear as well.¡±


    ¡°What truth?¡± Malik asked.


    Joren picked up Aram¡¯s egg and set it in front of the chests upon the fading grass. Malik did the same with Riese¡¯s egg. Joren shifted away an ember with a slight grunt at the heat, then stooped and retrieved one more egg.


    ¡°My,¡± Joren said. ¡°A third survivor. That is especially rare.¡±


    A golden one. Malik recognized it immediately from the ceremony. It had been Petyr Bromsein¡¯s. Surviving not only the flames, but the fall from the Spires as well, and now, a soft luminescence permeated its scales. Joren set it with the others, then picked up an urn that looked just like Petyr¡¯s egg.


    ¡°I left because I learned the true reason for the Ascent,¡± Joren said softly. ¡°The reason we send our youths to face death. Yes, it is about confronting our past, how we came to be set apart from the rest of the world. But only we shamans know the full truth. This is half of it. The eggs are not all destroyed. Some survive, with the possibility of being bonded and hatched.¡±


    Joren began to fill the urn that looked just like Petyr¡¯s egg and set it with the others. Joren handed Riese¡¯s urn to Malik and took up Aram¡¯s for himself.


    Malik looked down, gut wrenching. Her dragon lived. The potential to be bonded. And tomorrow morning, she would lay her urn to rest just like the others. Unrest tearing at her spirit as it had tonight, and now, Malik understood why she¡¯d hesitated to cast her egg.


    Joren placed the three surviving eggs into a rough-sewn sack.


    ¡°What is done with the eggs that survive, Father?¡±


    There was a tremble in Malik¡¯s voice. Anger, confusion, and even more resentment. Before he voiced the question, he already knew the answer deep in his spirit.


    The life his people had always known, their isolation, their piety and peace and superior simplicity compared with all the rest of the world, and¡­


    All of it is bullshit, Malik thought bitterly.

 17 - Duty

    Yerida, the lone seaport of Faltara was located at the end of a narrow fjord on the southeastern side of the island. Joren suspected it had been built there, centuries ago, for its defensibility.


    The sheer cliff faces that lined the entrance to the fjord made its passing slow and vulnerable for an invading ship to navigate. There were other possible landing points on the island, but to reach any Faltari settlements required anchoring far away from the dangerous shoals that lined the majority of the coastline¡ªnot to mention avoiding the icebergs that drifted on the northern seas¡ªthen marching across unfamiliar mountains filled with jackals and sabers and frigid conditions most civilized soldiers had never experienced.


    All that risk, for what? Joren mused. Only a few people in the world knew what treasures resided on this island. But centuries ago? Why did the ancestors establish settlements with defense in mind if they fought no wars?


    Perhaps it was a different story. Or perhaps it was merely care and foresight on the part of their ancestors.


    It had not been clear to Joren until his Wandering years, just how mythologized the history of Faltara had become. Until he learned that all peoples the world over¡ªwhether Attican or Taikan, Chardonian or Valgish, even the mysterious Elyan trader he¡¯d encountered in the great free city of Beirus¡ªall of them spoke of Crossings many millennia ago.


    Some spoke of journeys from the north, which might correlate to the Gate at the top of the Spires. But most spoke of incredible journeys across treacherous seas from a distant continent. Some spoke of journeys from worlds that did not match the mighty fallen empire found in the world of the Abyss at all.


    Perhaps there were many Gates of the Ancients. Perhaps there was only this one, and the time since the actual event was so much more vast than they were taught on the Isle of Faltara, that the tale of the true Crossing had been convoluted by all the peoples of the world. Perhaps there was some degree of truth to the Faltari version of the Crossing.


    Or perhaps, there was no truth at all.


    It was not until Joren spent time amongst the Fjuriin monks on the tiny Isle of Parduum that he first heard the Attican version of the settlement of Faltara itself.


    A persecuted Valgish clan that fled north from a corrupt king, during the Attican Golden Age.


    What was truth?


    Truth lies not in tales, but in duty and honor. Truth lies in what we do each day.


    Joren¡¯s father had taught him this, just as Joren had taught Derrin, and now Malik. And one day, Joren hoped deep in his spirit, Malik would teach it to his own son or daughter.


    What he¡¯d come to understand during his Wandering was that there were questions he might never find the answer to. When he was younger, he did not know if he could live with that.


    But there were worse things to live with. He¡¯d learned that too.


    Joren envisioned the battlefield in Taika, one of many revolutions that had occurred there. Severed limbs and skulls bursting with brain and blood. But it was not the images¡ªevery living beast was made of similar stuff on the inside, and it was nothing unnatural to see¡ªno, it was the screams that haunted him.


    Anytime Joren questioned the history he was taught, or wondered if it mattered whether the Faltari had always lived here, or whether they¡¯d come from Valgland or somewhere else, he needed only to take himself back to the screams of battle.


    Young men barely come of age wailing for mothers, screaming unintelligibly, shrieking, writhing, desperate for the agony to end.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    And it had been Joren¡¯s duty to heal, to prolong that wailing life for as long as possible. To determine if there was hope, or to make the decision to end that fading life.


    Only Madri knew what he¡¯d endured in his spirit during uhmskara, and even she knew only a part. The deepest truth was known only by the gods, and Joren supposed this was always so.


    The life they preserved on the island was good, in a way most people in the world could never know. The stories didn¡¯t matter. The sacrifice was necessary.


    Malik would come to understand one day.


    The journey down from Kalengal Valley took two days, and Joren saw little of his son during the journey.


    As shaman, Joren led the way, the three surviving dragon eggs stowed safely amongst his shaman¡¯s chests, sealed by locks as well as runic incantations, no different than all the other sacred supplies loaded in his alkine-drawn wagon.


    There were many rituals performed during the Festival of the Ascension, rituals performed only once each year, which required tinctures and urns, sacrifices and herbs, incense and ceremonial garb and inks and ward stones and scrolls and bones of sacred beasts and more. Shamans always hauled wagons of ceremonial supplies up to Kalengal Valley each year. No one knew what horrible treasure was added to the lot for the journey back.


    Joren guided his wooly alkine down one last stretch of road, before coming to the edge of a wall of rock, and the world of mountain passes opened up to the glacial valley of Yerida, at the foot of the fjord.


    Shouts erupted behind him. A dozen vessels were already anchored offshore, the glorious white cloth of sails catching the bright afternoon sun and beaming. Skiffs ferried goods to the docks. The sacred Festival of Ascension was over.


    Now, it was time for the Festival of the Fading Sun.


    The last rite before winter set in.


    ***


    Riese struck Malik¡¯s shoulder excitedly and pointed. Yuri howled as they rounded the last bend of path outside Yerida.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath!¡± Yuri murmured. ¡°Look at all the bloody foreigners! It¡¯ll be a grand festival this year! I wonder if there¡¯s any lemons. Gods, I hope there¡¯s some lemons!¡±


    Riese grinned. ¡°You don¡¯t want fruit. You want those Chardonian tarts!¡±


    Yuri patted his stomach eagerly. ¡°Earned it, I did! I¡¯m bloody Ascendant!¡±


    ¡°You know, what I¡¯d love is an Attican spear,¡± said Riese.


    ¡°Ha! There¡¯s only half a dozen on the island.¡±


    Riese huffed. ¡°I¡¯m bloody Ascendant and one of the best hunters on the island. A spear of steel would make the hunt so much easier.¡±


    ¡°How dare you suggest our spears are inferior,¡± said Yuri with a laugh.


    ¡°What does a shaman look forward to at the trading?¡± asked Riese.


    Malik gazed out at all the ships. Many Faltari had ridden ahead of the caravan to welcome the foreigners. Already, in the square, Malik could make out carts and market stands arrayed with colorful cloths. In the past, he¡¯d always been excited for the bards and the ales and the foreign knives, the delicious smell of breads that could only be baked with foreign flour and yeast. But this year, he didn¡¯t care about any of that. His focus was on the flags flying from the anchored ships.


    Malik managed to push back the thoughts, and said, ¡°My father speaks only of herbs, so I guess I¡¯m excited for that too.¡±


    He winked at Yuri.


    ¡°For dream smoke, of course,¡± Malik added, and the boy howled with laughter. He grabbed the hand of his girl from the dance and spun her around. They¡¯d been matched at the end of the festival, and Yuri had been flirting and laughing ever since. He was a man now, ready to take a wife, and settle down and farm the foothills of the southern Jackal lands and raise children.


    All his life was coming together, and Malik felt guilty for how much he resented his friend. How much he wished he could find that same joy for himself.


    Riese¡¯s match, Vinder had joined them a few times during the journey down from the mountains, and she feigned happiness each time he came near. They¡¯d gone hunting together before nightfall the previous evening, and Malik had found time to think.


    Vinder had joined the party ahead, sent to secure the village of Yerida, before the foreign traders were allowed to ferry ashore.


    Yuri bounded down the Soul Road, hollering for Riese and Malik to join him and his new match tonight for a mead after supper.


    Finally, for the first time in two days, Malik and Riese were alone.


    They paused on the ridge overlooking the bay, letting the procession pass them and meander down the foothills to the village below. Children paused nearby, gesticulating towards the ships with uncontainable enthusiasm.


    ¡°Quite the sight,¡± said Riese, gazing out at the sails. ¡°I¡¯ve always thought so.¡±


    Malik nodded. Every time he saw Riese, he pictured her egg in the ashes, still glowing, pictured her hesitation to throw the egg in the fire. Now, he couldn¡¯t take his eyes away from the crimson sails in the harbor below, bearing the white dragon of Attica.


    ¡°What if we did go?¡± Malik whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± Riese said, jolting.


    ¡°What if we left Faltara? Hop aboard with one of the traders at the end of the festival and go on a Wandering?¡±


    Riese drew back and investigated his face. ¡°Don¡¯t mess with me, Malik Jorensein.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± said Malik. ¡°I¡¯m dead serious.¡±


    Riese gazed out at the shimmering sails, and a smile crossed her lips.

 18 - Neutral Ground

    The cold sea air stung Urla Pelasius¡¯s face as their ship, Teranus, navigated the narrow fjord leading to the Faltari village port of Yerida.


    The passage was wide enough for two vessels to maneuver, cautiously. Sheer walls of rock shot up on either side of the channel. The captain of their ship claimed the sea floor descended at a similar angle, plunging near straight down into the depths of icy water, both sides of the channel meeting somewhere hundreds of feet below.


    This knowledge did not ease Urla¡¯s mind much, as the captain brought their Attican vessel within a dozen feet of the cliff face while passing a Taikan vessel at a similar distance, with that ship brushing just as close against the opposing wall.


    Urla braced herself, gripping the taffrail with warrior¡¯s strength, waiting for the inevitable crunch of wooden hull against unforgiving stone below, or else the splintering of hull against hull, should the Taikan ship draw too close.


    But a few moments later, they had the channel to themselves once more.


    ¡°Ha!¡± cried Captain Sentius, grinning at her madly. ¡°It does me good to see a warrior of such renown under such distress.¡±


    Urla glowered. ¡°I don¡¯t trust the sea. Never will.¡±


    ¡°Never trust the sea,¡± said the captain. ¡°That¡¯s wisdom. Trust the seaman!¡±


    ¡°Both are equally dangerous, in my experience.¡±


    ¡°Aye, that we are! Ha!¡±


    Urla was relieved she hadn¡¯t offended him. Clearly, the Attican captain was a fine navigator, but in her mind, the sea would never be anything but a cruel and flighty wench. It would take all it could, then take more, and leave daughters to be raised by uncles, mentored by their father¡¯s old friends.


    Consul General Campos, on the other hand, was entirely unperturbed by the precarious passage. He stood at the prow of the ship with Ruan and three other youths from the Fjuriin academies, one other boy, and two girls. All recently come of age. Like Ruan, they were sons and daughters of Attican lord houses, though none belonged to noteworthy families.


    ¡°All of them will not manage a bond on this journey,¡± Campos had explained to Urla, before they¡¯d traveled again through the godblade portal, from the palace to the northernmost port in the empire and set sail for Faltara. ¡°But our empire is at the cusp of greatness for the first time in generations. The Dragon Lords still hold much sway, and our wise Emperor must balance the scales. Attica needs Dragonmounts loyal, first and foremost, to the empire, not to the traditions of their lord houses. Now, more than ever.¡±


    Of course, Emperor Athanasius had not been so straightforward when he¡¯d blessed the company that would make the journey to Faltara for the Festival of the Fading Sun. But Urla had sensed they were carefully chosen, either by Campos, or perhaps, the emperor himself. Two from each of the major Attican noble academies.


    ¡°Why now more than ever?¡± Urla had asked Campos.


    But her mentor had merely shrugged.


    Now, the ship reached a bend in the fjord, and the narrow cliff walls opened up to a small inland bay, set into a glacial valley. In the distance, a towering range of mountains loomed, nearby foothills rising into stark peaks that dominated the inland horizon. The first dusting of snow clung to the precipices of the tallest ones. There would be no snow in Attica¡ªeven the mountains¡ªfor another two months at least, and the lowlands would only see snow a once or twice, most winters.


    The walls of the fjord eased to green slopes, though it would be a toil to climb, except near the center of the bay where the thick foliage and snowpines were stripped away to make room for a quaint village. Even the buildings themselves were rugged, longhouses built primarily at one level, crudely carved out of entire logs of bone-white socha. A fort wall of logs encircled the village, each trunk carved to a sharp spike at the top. Urla could only imagine what beasts must roam such a wild place.


    She marveled at how any people would choose such a harsh land to inhabit, but the warrior in her admired the savagery. It reminded her of their own barbaric rituals in the academies and legion training camps. The greatest test of a soldier¡¯s mettle, save for battle itself, was to throw them in the heart of the wilds, and let them prove their valor.


    Though, these exercises typically lasted a week at most.


    Here, it was just life. Crude and harsh, by choice.


    A dozen ships had already laid anchor in the bay, all forced close together.


    Urla spotted a Chardonian banner¡ªa forest green field with three silver lances jutting from a lone tower¡ªand tensed.


    The Chardonians had long been sworn enemies of the empire. Most good Atticans prayed for the day they would invade the bastards.


    ¡°This is neutral ground,¡± said Captain Sentius. ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Urla kept her true thoughts to herself. There¡¯s no such thing as neutral ground, and if this is the source of our dragon eggs, then, it is treacherous ground, indeed, should the right people discover what trade Campos conducts here.


    Campos gesticulated widely, as all the youths, including her son, marveled at the strange civilization here at the northern edge of the world.


    A tall soldier with wavy blond hair approached her. Lord Captain Adrius Rykus, father of the female representative from Ruan¡¯s school, a dark-haired girl with piercing green eyes. Urla had pieced together the man was of Valucian decent, one of the hero traitors who¡¯d ensured Attican victory. He¡¯d married a true-blood Attican spy during the Valucian Uprising, and together, they had eventually helped quash the rebellion. The wife had not joined them on the journey, but Urla guessed their daughter, Ava, took after their mother. She looked more Attican than her father, save for the green eyes.


    Rykus strode straight to where Urla stood. Except for meals, Urla had largely kept to herself during the short voyage, and her privacy had been blessedly respected until now.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    The first-blood Attican man stood straight and offered her a salute of equals, pounding a fist to his chest.


    Urla stood tall and reciprocated. Technically, their station was equal, though a small part of her resented this truth. It would not have been so in her father¡¯s generation. No Valucian would have become captain, no matter who he married.


    Sailors scrambled across the decks of Teranus to ready the longboats. Most of the crew had been operating oars below, the only way to navigate the fjord with the necessary precision. Sentius deftly maneuvered around an anchored vessel, barking orders, which were echoed below by one of his mates.


    ¡°Makes you wonder, doesn¡¯t it? This journey?¡± Rykus asked.


    Urla nodded, waiting for him to answer his own question.


    ¡°Has the entire lottery always been rigged?¡±


    ¡°The allocation of dragons was always rigged,¡± said Urla. ¡°Long before Good Emperor Vitruvian introduced the lottery.¡±


    ¡°Well noted,¡± said Rykus. ¡°I shan¡¯t complain about my daughter¡¯s being chosen as part of the leveling of power.¡±


    Ava Rykus was intelligent, that had been clear at once, but Urla had to confess she was surprised the girl had been chosen, considering the girl¡¯s¡­ condition. Though Urla supposed two good legs wasn¡¯t strictly necessary on dragon back.


    Urla shrugged. ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up, Captain. It¡¯s the law of the land that few children will ever bond.¡±


    Just like a first-blood lord to feel special at the first hint of attention shown by the emperor.


    Rykus shot her an unabashed grin. ¡°Let alone twice in succeeding generations, right?¡±


    Urla¡¯s stomach tightened, though she let the tension slip before it rose to her face. She loathed verbal sparring. Put her in a ring with a pair of spears, or better yet, a war hammer, and see how Rykus would fare.


    Longboats ferried goods from other vessels. Their own ship drifted now, slowly making their way to the far end of the bay. It was a vulnerable position, one Urla guessed was mandated for the sake of peace. The Attican vessel could easily be trapped here should something go awry.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about your lord husband¡¯s death,¡± Rykus said. ¡°He flew magnificently.¡±


    ¡°You saw him?¡±


    ¡°My company fought in the battle. His fall shook the troops mightily. Riders are one thing, but a dragonfall is rare against a barbaric foe like Siga. Many of the troops feared it was a bad omen.¡±


    ¡°Not you?¡±


    ¡°We won the battle, didn¡¯t we? And the rebellion was crushed only weeks later. No, Lady Captain, I¡¯ve fought on both sides of Dragonmounts. A single dragonfall never turns the tide. One is unlucky. Two is a tragedy. It takes three to turn a battle. The heathen Valucians had dragons too, long ago, you may recall.¡±


    ¡°Not since the First Age,¡± said Urla. ¡°And it¡¯s not properly Fjuriin to recount such times. It was not Valucia¡¯s path.¡±


    ¡°I recount them only as Attican. As one of the honored Blood Traitors. It was right for the ancient Valucian mounts to fall. And certainly, I am honored to see Attica reclaim its rightful place over our soil. Only now, do the isles feel like home.¡±


    ¡°Certainly, my mistake.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, of course, Lady Captain. I should have been clearer in my words. In truth, though my visage might betray me, my line traces back to the Golden Age when Attican blood was far more widespread. Tainted blood, yes. But we kept the Fjuriin ways. All the more reason it would be a glorious honor for my own daughter to become a Dragonmount of Attica.¡±


    Urla met his gaze. The curious man glanced over at his daughter proudly. Supporting herself on a sleek black cane, Ava was chatting with Ruan and the girl from the Skymount Academy.


    ¡°She must be quite brilliant,¡± said Urla, ¡°to be admitted to the Fjuriin Academy as a second-blood.¡±


    ¡°Very,¡± said Rykus proudly. ¡°Ava certainly takes after her mother. Though my daughter tells me your son is top of the class.¡±


    ¡°Does she?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re friends,¡± said Rykus. ¡°Our children. Did you know that? Sorry, I know it¡¯s a sensitive matter after war and tragedy, but my wife and I could hardly contain our excitement when Ava informed us that she had befriended the son of a Dragonmount. I was thrilled to tell her I fought beneath the shadow of that dragon¡¯s wings. Er, sorry.¡±


    Urla shook her head, remaining composed as ever. ¡°No need. You honor my husband and our family with your words. Thank you. And your wife, she¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°Home. She¡¯s been ill for¡­ a long time now.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t choose our lot. We merely make the most of it. How¡¯s that for properly Fjuriin?¡±


    Urla smiled at the man. It took great skill and charisma to rise to become captain as a first-blood, she couldn¡¯t deny him that.


    The ship came to a stop, and Campos led the youths to the quarterdeck, where their parents and a retinue of Campos house guards gathered.


    Urla moved closer to her son as Campos began a series of instructions. Ruan stood beside Ava, and so Rykus, too, remained near.


    The children whispered back and forth intermittently. Urla couldn¡¯t determine whether the two shared an attraction, or were only friends, as Rykus suggested. Before Urla left for war, she would have known.


    Two years, she mused. When I left, he wouldn¡¯t look a pretty girl in the eyes, let alone hold an animated conversation.


    Ava was pretty, Urla had to admit, save for the unsettling eyes. She had light brown skin and properly dark and wavy Attican hair. But those bright green eyes stood out like a wart on her face.


    A pity, Urla thought. If the girl¡¯d taken dark eyes and her mother¡¯s name, she might have had hope of forming a greater house.


    Urla had seen enough to know the girl stood little chance at actually gaining a dragon on this venture. If she had to guess, it was a political maneuver, whether Rykus, or perhaps the Valucian archduke himself.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asked Lady Thenius, the Skymount girl¡¯s mother.


    ¡°No weapons?¡± Rykus chimed in, flabbergasted.


    Urla was jolted from her thoughts, as General Campos handed off his sword belt to his man-servant, Baro. He withdrew two more daggers from another belt wrapped tight on his chest, and traded his Attican sigils for a plain cloak the color of everwinter needles.


    ¡°No weapons of war,¡± said Campos. ¡°The policy is strictly enforced by the local magistrates, er, chieftains. An exception can be made for spears, but even then, Faltans are interested only in short spears for hunting, no lances, and even these will be handed over to local chieftains on shore.¡±


    ¡°You expect me to go ashore with my only daughter, to a foreign shore teeming with barbaric Valgs and Chardonians, with no weapons of any sort?¡± Rykus was red in the face, and Urla was embarrassed for him.


    Typical first-blood lapse in restraint.


    Campos smiled enduringly. ¡°Yes, if you want your daughter to have any chance at a bond, that¡¯s precisely what I expect of you, Captain Rykus. But if you¡¯d both prefer to stay aboard¡­¡±


    Ava flushed but said nothing, in proper Fjuriin fashion.


    Rykus crossed his arms. He¡¯d already traded his seafaring clothes for armor to go ashore. ¡°Well, you might have warned us sooner at least, Lord Consul. Only to save time, of course.¡±


    Campos drew closer to the man and patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Ah, I don¡¯t fret about your time, in the least. I care only about the emperor¡¯s time, and the time of the select youths he ordered me to bring ashore. I don¡¯t need you to escort your brilliant daughter, need I remind you. You¡¯re accompaniment is a privilege, not a right.¡±


    Rykus and one of the other armored parents hastened below deck to change. One of Urla¡¯s servants took her own weapons, but her focus was on the instructions Campos was passing along to her son and the other youths.


    ¡°Faltara is neutral ground. This is the only time each year that trade is permitted and foreigners are permitted on these shores. I needn¡¯t have to remind you how important it is that we maintain cordial relations, considering the nature of our voyage. If a Chardonian bastard tries to provoke you, you walk away. If a Valgish hothead bears a hidden weapon, you walk away and report it to a Faltari chieftain. And if a Beirusian courtesan invites you for a Journey Amongst the Stars, well, best hope your parents aren¡¯t watching and your purse is full, because she¡¯s not asking to go for an evening stroll. Ha!¡±


    The youths all laughed in spite of themselves, then, glanced around nervously.


    Urla smirked at her son¡¯s flushed cheeks. Perhaps he was not quite the man grown he portrayed.


    Surely by now, he¡¯d¡­


    Then, she caught the glance at Ava.


    Mother¡¯s intuition hasn¡¯t entirely lapsed since you¡¯ve been to war.


    ¡°All right, it¡¯s time to go ashore!¡± Campos announced.

 19 - Daughter of Valucia

    Halfway to shore, Ava Lucila Rykus nudged Ruan¡¯s shoulder, and pointed up at the sky as a prismatic shimmer flashed above their skiff. She held her breath as two slender creatures emerged from low-hanging clouds. Feathers of many vibrant shades caught the light of the evening sun and the creatures twirled through the air.


    ¡°Feathered serpents!¡± Ruan whispered.


    ¡°I¡¯ve only ever heard tales.¡± Ava marveled as the graceful creatures rode currents of wind. Thin membranes expanded from their sides like tiny sails. A fin of feathers on their spine guided their path in perfect synchronicity, as though the creatures were performing an ancient choreography across the heavens.


    The feathered serpents dove toward their ship, and even the rowers stopped to watch as the pair plunged into the bay, submerging for a second, maybe two, before shooting out from the water. Feathers plumed, catching a firm breeze that rushed from the depths of the fjord, and they soared back into the sky.


    ¡°Marvelous!¡± General Campos shouted. ¡°A mating dance.¡±


    The serpents writhed in tandem, catching an upward draft that sent them spiraling up and up, until they disappeared into another cloud.


    The consul general pointed to the cliff back the way they¡¯d come. ¡°They¡¯ve a roost back there, I¡¯d guarantee it.¡±


    ¡°Surely, they don¡¯t mate this late in the year?¡± Ava¡¯s father asked.


    Ruan was blushing again, and Ava held back a smile.


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Campos. ¡°The ways of the great creatures of the north are curious, indeed. Feathered serpent eggs gestate for the entire winter. The creatures hibernate for much of the year, and the warm season is desperately short, so they must perform their duties most¡­ vigorously before the snow and ice sets in to ensure fertilization. Of course, this is nothing like the gestation of a dragon egg, eh?¡±


    Her father mused on this quietly. Ava could tell her father did not particularly care for the general, but he was honor-bound to hide it as best he could. His outburst over the armor was an uncharacteristic lapse, though perhaps it had been intentional. For all her father¡¯s faults, he did few things carelessly.


    ¡°I think it¡¯s brilliant,¡± said Ava, eyes still on the clouds. ¡°All must adapt to survive, right?¡±


    ¡°Take what is and mold it how we may,¡± said Campos proudly. ¡°Spoken like one on the Fjuriin Path, if ever I¡¯ve heard it.¡±


    Ava raised a brow as her father glanced her way.


    ¡°Spoken like a teacher¡¯s pet, more like,¡± Ruan murmured so only she could hear.


    ¡°Adapt and survive, comrade,¡± she said, shooting him a wink.


    He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lip turned with a smirk, and Ava nudged him in the ribs.


    Ruan didn¡¯t seem to mind.


    Ava wondered whether the boy had ever suspected why she¡¯d initially befriended him. Whether he cared.


    Ruan was a brilliant boy who just needed a little guidance in the social dynamics of the academy. While Ava needed access beyond her station. Never could she have gained an audience with the consul general during his guest lecture term last year without a connection like Ruan, that was damn certain. Just a second-blood girl from the Old Empire, Ava could never have afforded to be timid or unsure, the way Ruan was when they arrived at Dawncrest.


    It felt strange to be this far from the academy. In the past year, Ava had come of age and faced trials that would prepare her for all that would come on her path.


    Ruan had grown much the past year, she had to give him that. He took in the village and spoke with the other students with confidence, shoulders back, head high.


    And Ava¡­ she was on the Isle of Faltara, the best-kept secret in the world, with one of the emperor¡¯s closest advisors. Gods, I even bowed before the emperor himself!


    Campos¡¯s personal guards maneuvered their longboat to the Faltari docks and tethered it to unload. The guards disembarked first. Ruan offered her his hand to help her from the boat. Her right leg ached as she rose. She¡¯d remained far too stationary on that damn ship.


    A pair of fur-cloaked natives greeted Campos at the end of the docks, then ushered them to follow, pointing to a log-formed building at the edge of the teeming square outside the walled village.


    ¡°Every visitor will be checked for illicit materials,¡± Campos announced to the group.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Gods, are we entering the palace pyramids?¡± asked Lady Thenius haughtily.


    ¡°It is standard procedure for this particular festival, and all will honor it, or return to the ship, if you¡¯d rather.¡±


    Thenius rolled her eyes, adjusting the casual cream-colored gown. Far plainer, Ava was sure, than anything she was used to wearing.


    It amused Ava, for all that Attican nobles valued temperance, how easily flustered they could be, if they believed their honor had been maligned.


    ¡°I think Thenius needs a good frisk down,¡± Ava muttered, and Ruan chuckled beside her.


    Her father brushed her shoulder from behind, and she paused near the end of the dock, letting Ruan and his warrior mother walk on ahead.


    Lady Captain Pelasius also looked uncomfortable in her plain-woven dress, though this was more from her build than anything. Thenius struck Ava as a woman who didn¡¯t know what to do when not wearing fine silks and being ferried around on a litter. Urla, on the other hand, looked like she ought to wear armor at all times¡ªtall, broad-shouldered, strong. Ruan¡¯s mother surveyed the village as though a threat might emerge at any instant, hand hovering near the sash at her waist, where a blade would normally be worn.


    When Ruan and his mother reached the shack, Ava¡¯s father turned to her, eyes narrowing.


    ¡°Be careful around them,¡± Rykus said.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be here, if not for Ruan,¡± she murmured. ¡°I know what I¡¯m doing. I saw you getting on just fine with the lady captain.¡±


    ¡°Just be careful. Few are more petulant than love-struck youths. What can be given can be taken away. And that would ruin all we¡¯ve worked for all your life.¡±


    Ava glowered up at her father. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡±


    Rykus¡¯s face seized. ¡°All of us must sacrifice for the sake of this family.¡±


    ¡°I got us here, didn¡¯t I? Trust me.¡±


    Rykus smiled and patted her cheek, his fingers lingered under her chin, and he looked deep into her eyes. ¡°You¡¯ve done well, darling. But don¡¯t let it go to your head.¡±


    Ava nodded and followed the others before her father could say anything more.


    ***


    Men and women were sent through different examination stations within the Faltari shack, where they were undressed to their smallclothes and checked for weapons and other unwelcome items. The Faltari women were gentle with Ava, letting her support herself with her cane the entire time, and being especially courteous with the leathern brace that extended from knee to hip on her right leg.


    The entire process amused her. It was all so much more modest than in Attica. The Valgish ancestry that was said to run in Faltari blood, Ava supposed.


    The thick dress she¡¯d been instructed to wear covered her shoulders entirely, which, considering the cold, she¡¯d thought was just practical. But something about the way the Faltari women handled the inspection was so sterile.


    Perhaps it was not modesty at all, but something about her foreign-ness. The women barely met her gaze, which was very much not Fjuriin.


    Ava found it fascinating. There was so much to learn about the world.


    When they emerged from the checkpoint, a pair of fair-haired Faltari men approached, one young as she, one about her father¡¯s age.


    Campos immediately drew his hands together and bowed, an extraordinary act of respect from someone of his station. Quickly, the rest of the Attican entourage followed suit, though Ava noted the disgust in Lady Thenius¡¯s expression.


    The two Faltari men, father and son it appeared, were the epitome of barbarians at a glance. Long hair reached their shoulders, braided with colorful feathers¡ªserpent feathers, Ava guessed with excitement¡ªand tiny bones. Their cloaks were formed crudely from the hides of multiple beasts. More crude than the guards who¡¯d greeted them, and yet, Campos paid only these two the honor of an Attican Dragon Lord.


    ¡°It is good to see you, my friend,¡± Campos said to the elder Faltari man, holding his gaze only briefly.


    Campos motioned to the others. ¡°May I present Joren, Shaman of Faltara, and this must be your son, yes? The second born?¡±


    The shaman nodded, and Ava wondered what was act and what was truth in this entire performative interaction.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Joren, ¡°this is Malik, also Shaman of Faltara.¡±


    Campos bowed to the boy as well. ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve come of age, then,¡± said Campos. ¡°Congratulations on your Ascension!¡±


    The young shaman dipped his head in respect, but said nothing. Ava watched the boy carefully. Malik¡¯s eyes were bright like her own, hair a light brown and crudely cut. Dark rings of cosmetic were painted around his eyes, just like his father¡¯s, and dark streaks of the same paint traced the side of his face. His jawline was narrow and chiseled. Without the paint, she suspected he was handsome, not in a Fjuriin way, but perhaps more like her own Valucian heritage.


    His father was tall and scrawny, but the young shaman was shorter and well-built. A young man who might have given some of the Dawncrest boys a run for their money in the academy athletic games. A glance at his muscular forearms suggested he probably handled a spear well too. Malik took in each of the foreigners, one by one, and when his gaze met Ava¡¯s, he paused, examining her carefully.


    She felt something curious in her mind, which she couldn¡¯t explain. As though her thoughts had been searched somehow, and suddenly, she blushed, though she couldn¡¯t explain why.


    Malik¡¯s gaze passed on.


    ¡°You brought a larger retinue this year,¡± the elder shaman said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.


    ¡°The Festival of the Fading Sun is an experience unlike any other,¡± Campos said. ¡°There are more ships in your harbor than I¡¯ve seen before as well. It was a year of good harvests. Attica is no different.¡±


    Joren nodded evenly. ¡°Yes, well, trade is good, but this is a sacred land, and we do not wish it to be disturbed beyond what is required.¡±


    Ava detected hidden messages in their words, though she could not say what they were.


    ¡°We come in peace, as always,¡± Campos said. ¡°You know as well as I, how much we prize the sanctity of this place in Attica.¡±


    Joren nodded, but the younger shaman hitched slightly. Ava doubted anyone caught it, but she had been trained to notice the subtlest shifts in human expression, like the brief tensing of a jaw or shoulders.


    The younger shaman was angry about something.


    ¡°We should speak further in private,¡± said Joren.


    Campos nodded. ¡°Of course. I¡¯ll meet up with the rest of you during the spirit ceremony tonight. Lady Captain, I would be honored if you would serve as my guard.¡±


    A couple of the parents grumbled at this, but Ava¡¯s attention remained fixed on the young shaman.


    Malik caught her watching him, and she glanced away, and hurried after the others to explore the markets.

 20 - Long Lost

    Joren led the way through the village lanes. The crowds were thick with foreigners, along with all the population of Faltara. No one missed the Festival of the Fading Sun anymore than they would the Ascension. Though less sacred in nature, the Fading Sun was like the more lively extension of the celebrations, with no death or solemn history hanging over it. The streets of Yerida were alive like no other time of year.


    Joren and Campos made small talk as they walked. The Consul General was accompanied by a tall and impressive Attican shield maiden, obvious even without her armor. Urla Pelasius said little, though her eyes were watchful, and her spirit betrayed a suppressed inner turmoil.


    A mixture of loss and hope, Joren recognized.


    Malik, too, was hiding something, ever since Joren had told his son the truth, and unlike the shield maiden, he was more practiced in putting up walls against his father¡¯s shaman sense. Whatever Malik hadn¡¯t understood immediately, he¡¯d certainly figured out over the past hour. And Joren, of all people, understood how that knowledge weighed on one¡¯s spirit.


    As they neared the eastern edge of the village, Campos spoke at a whisper. ¡°I do apologize for the increased guard this year, old friend. War time in the empire, you know.¡±


    ¡°I was told you secured a victory in Siga,¡± said Joren, images of his own time at war rising up anew.


    ¡°It¡¯s always war time in the empire,¡± Campos said with a laugh. When no one else joined him, he offered an addendum. ¡°There is some lesser acknowledged uncertainty regarding an Elyan runeship that fought in the final battle, outside the Sigan capital.¡±


    ¡°Leone,¡± said Joren.


    ¡°You know it? Ah, yes, I forget you sailed the world for a time. Forgive me.¡±


    Joren sensed a tension in his son at the mention of his Wandering. He patted Malik on the shoulder.


    ¡°You¡¯ve heard of the runeships of Elya, then?¡± Campos asked.


    ¡°Only trader¡¯s tales,¡± said Joren. ¡°Were any of your Mounts harmed?¡±


    Campos spared a momentary glance at the shield maiden, grimaced, then resumed. ¡°We lost one dragon and her rider a couple weeks before. Not from the runeship. Just a damn lucky shot from a restored wing-render bow.¡±


    Joren had heard tales of the wing-renders, enormous crossbows fixed to parapets that fired bolts of iron with razor tips the size of skulls, and enhanced with rune magic for farther and faster flight. Most had been used in the ancient wars of the empire. Most were destroyed during the Golden Age.


    ¡°No kingdom in their right mind would fight Attica without a few wing-renders up their sleeves,¡± Campos continued. ¡°But a runeship¡­ that is the first I¡¯ve heard this side of the Dornin Sea in a decade. And the first to be used in battle. Of course, the Elyan ambassadors claim it was stolen, and we¡¯ve no proof, but¡­¡±


    ¡°So, it wasn¡¯t piloted by¡­¡±


    ¡°The Elyans?¡± Campos finished. ¡°Gods, no. Bloody mercenaries is all.¡±


    ¡°What does it mean, then?¡± asked Malik, suddenly jumping into the conversation.


    Campos raised a brow and grinned. ¡°What do you know about the Elyans out here in the wilds, boy?¡±


    Malik shrugged. ¡°They ignored the warnings of the World Before, just like Attica.¡±


    Campos straightened up at this. ¡°That so?¡±


    ¡°Excuse my son, he means no offense,¡± Joren said.


    ¡°None taken, old friend,¡± Campos retorted. ¡°We all have a different tale, don¡¯t we? The Crossing. Where we came from. Why we left. What it means. It is an interesting thought, all of us coming from some distant shore, long lost. All sharing some distant common ancestry. Even the Elyans, I suppose, no matter how long they¡¯ve cut themselves off from the rest of the world.¡±


    ¡°You fear them,¡± said Malik.


    ¡°Son¡­¡±


    ¡°No, he¡¯s right,¡± said Campos.


    ¡°They pose a threat to your power. If only one of these runeships causes such fear.¡±


    Campos shrugged. ¡°We all fear what we don¡¯t understand, don¡¯t we? The runeships are real. And they might serve a mighty weapon for an empire that thinks nothing of magic. Thinks it should be taught and shared widely.¡±


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t it?¡± asked Malik boldly.


    Joren kept his thoughts to himself. It was not like his son to be so forward. He was probing for answers about the nature of this agreement, between Faltara and Attica.


    On the island, every person practiced magic. Of course, that was because they were blessed by the gods, and they were good stewards of their gods-given gifts. But Joren had seen the might of kingdoms and empires, and he shuddered to think of an empire founded on such power. Few had the restraint of the Faltari.


    Campos smiled. ¡°Young man, you said we Atticans never learned our lesson from the World Before. I¡¯ll forgive this as a slip of ignorance, but I would contend that you are wrong in this assessment. Very wrong, in fact. We Atticans learned the lesson that power in the wrong hands, or even simply in too many hands, leads to chaos. And utter destruction. Power must be tended carefully. I daresay that you Faltari believe something rather similar when it¡¯s all said and done. Thus, our accord, yes?¡±


    Malik quietened at the general¡¯s admonition.


    ¡°Again, I apologize,¡± said Joren, shooting Malik a stern look.


    Campos waved him off. ¡°I welcome the challenge. The earnestness of the young is a strength. It is good to question. Good to defend your reason. But like magic, like dragons, and yes, maybe even like runeships, that earnestness must also be harnessed and contained. Wielded with precision and restraint. That¡¯s where real strength lies. But I suppose some of us must unleash some destruction before we can learn.¡±


    Campos patted Malik paternally on the shoulder. ¡°And that is why I fear Elya, young man. Why we all should. Our dragons decimated that lone runeship with little trouble. But should those heathens decide to truly meddle in our corner of the world, well¡­ we might learn the full lesson of the World Before too late.¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    They stood at the edge of the village now, outside the shaman¡¯s hall. It was ornate for a longhouse, as was true in every Faltari village, with steps made of runemarked stones and a portico with intricately carved pillars made of socha wood.


    Joren led the way through the large foyer, where dozens of small shrines were erected, where any Faltari villager was welcome at any hour to weave prayer cloths or meditate. Incense smoke hung thick in the the air, an aroma that had always felt like come home to Joren. No matter what turmoil might reside outside this hall, or even in his own spirit, it slowly drifted away with a few focused inhalations of that musty scent.


    The interior walls were etched with mantras, both in runes and in the Common Tongue. On one side of the chamber, life-size graven visages of the All Mother and All Father were set in nooks. The rear wall was lined with fine-woven tapestries depicting each of the sacred beasts of Faltara.


    They passed through an arched entrance and entered the back hallway, which stretched past several smaller chambers. Healing chambers. The inner temple, where sacred texts were made available to the people, though few could actually read them. It was the same in the villages of all four clans, though Yerida was the largest.


    Near the end of the temple hall, Joren paused outside a runemarked door, much like the one in the sacred crypts at the base of the Spires. Joren pressed his palm against it, spoke the ancient words, and reached for hish, threads of magic connecting his spirit briefly with the spiritual power sealing the door. Recognizing his resonance, threads of magic untethered, thick iron mechanisms released at the edges of the door, and they entered the inner shaman¡¯s sanctum.


    There were no windows here. The walls were lined with shelves, mostly filled with ancient scrolls¡ªFaltari histories and lineages, runic spells, sacred rituals, prayers and mantras and incantations, recipes for tinctures. All the knowledge the shamans of Faltara had accrued regarding spiritual matters over the generations.


    There was a small desk and a couple of chairs where Joren had spent many hours in study, and behind the desk, there was a graven chest etched in runes.


    Malik, Campos, and the shield maiden, Urla, all followed him inside. Joren sealed the door behind them and activated the locking spell with a surge of hish.


    ¡°The way you Faltari work runes,¡± Campos said. ¡°With no channel. I¡¯ve seen it half a dozen times, and every time, I remain impressed.¡±


    ¡°Channel?¡± asked Malik.


    Before Joren could explain, Campos continued.


    ¡°In Attica, few practice magic, young shaman. Only an Alchemist of Peroia may learn runework. They train at a sacred and mysterious school to learn the use of sorcerous instruments, called channels, that allow them to harness the forces of the Other.¡±


    ¡°The Other?¡± Malik asked, brow furled. Every question his son spoke was laced with suspicion. Joren was tempted to shut down the conversation, but he feared that might only further the agitation in Malik¡¯s spirit.


    ¡°Here, we call it the breath of the gods,¡± Joren clarified. ¡°Hish, because that is the sound of an intake of breath. Malik, would you help me with the chest?¡±


    His son nodded, and took the leathern handle on one end, while Joren seized the other. The small chest itself was not terribly heavy, but Joren¡¯s back played tricks with him of late, and it was good for Malik to be involved rather than an observer during this exchange.


    Whatever Malik¡¯s fate after the Festival of the Fading Sun, it was important that he understand it all.


    They set the chest upon the desk, and once the seals were disabled, Joren opened it, as every shaman had done for countless generations. Urla drew a sharp breath at the sight of the three dragon eggs. Both she and Campos drew closer. Malik stood behind.


    ¡°Remarkable,¡± Urla murmured.


    ¡°Outside the residents of this island, you are one of only a handful of living people privy to this experience,¡± Campos said. ¡°Few people see a dragon egg in their lifetime, let along the land of their origins.¡±


    Malik fought back a smirk, but it was not lost on Joren.


    No, son, they don¡¯t know everything.


    All Faltari were oathbound, even those who left the island. From the village of Yerida, the Spires looked like nothing but high mountains peaks, until you reach the valley itself. Atticans knew little more than that the Faltari Ascension festival occurred high in the mountains. And when they returned, the shamans brought a fresh supply of dragon eggs for their heathen lottery.


    ¡°Three this year,¡± Campos said. The best in some time. The Consul General leaned over the chest. The crimson egg shimmered at the seams between stone-like scales, as though brimming with the potential of life. The general inspected it, picking the egg up gingerly with his hands. It shone brighter than the others.


    ¡°Is only one of them any good?¡± asked Urla.


    Campos glanced at Joren with raised brow. ¡°Shaman? Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve never seen one of your eggs bonded before the exchange.¡±


    ¡°Bonded?¡± Malik asked.


    Joren cursed silently. It was Riese¡¯s egg. ¡°Potential to bond,¡± Joren clarified.


    ¡°You¡¯d have seen this yourself had we waited till the lottery,¡± said Campos to the shield maiden. ¡°When an egg encounters a potential bond, it makes it known. This egg was handled by a potential Dragonmount.¡±


    ¡°Dragonmount?¡± Malik asked, turning to his father, anger barely held back.


    Joren nodded. ¡°It is rare. But not the first time this has happened for an Ascendant.¡±


    ¡°First that I¡¯ve seen,¡± Campos restated.


    ¡°Yes, well, you¡¯re rather new to the post, aren¡¯t you?¡± Joren said with a condescending smile.


    Joren tried not to think of the last time he¡¯d seen an egg glow like that. All eggs that survived the trial of flame glowed for a time. But they dimmed by the time they were delivered to the imperial consul. Unless they¡¯d been handled by a possible mount.


    ¡°Just as the potential for sorcery extends far and wide, so, too, does the potential for bonding,¡± said Joren.


    ¡°Which is why we ensure both fall into the right hands,¡± said Campos, grinning at Malik, despite the boy¡¯s evident suspicion.


    ¡°The glow will fade,¡± Joren said, ¡°with distance. Don¡¯t worry, there are many Atticans who could potentially bond with this dragon.¡±


    ¡°That is the entire principle behind the lottery. Why your son is here to begin with,¡± Campos said to Urla. ¡°A chance at forming such a link before the true lottery.¡±


    The woman nodded, but remained silent.


    Campos handed the egg to her, while he retrieved a large rucksack. Carefully, he took the egg, wrapping it in a thick cloth, and stowed it within. The general proceeded to handle each egg the same way, until all three were secured within. He slung the pack over his shoulders with ease, looking like he was hauling supplies, as he had when he¡¯d entered.


    ¡°Well, shamans, it¡¯s always a pleasure,¡± said Campos. ¡°We¡¯ll see you around the festival.¡±


    Just like that, the exchange was over, and Joren and Malik were alone, for the first time since they¡¯d unearthed the eggs at the pyre.


    The door shut, and Joren sealed the runes again. When he turned, Malik was shaking his head.


    ¡°She¡¯ll never know, will she?¡± Malik muttered.


    ¡°Riese believes her dragon egg was consumed, just like all the others. So no, she will never know. And it is important she does not.¡±


    ¡°She could be a Dragonmount?¡± Malik demanded.


    ¡°Potentially.¡±


    ¡°She deserves¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve just come of age, son! You know nothing of what Riese, or anyone else needs or deserves.¡±


    ¡°And you do?¡±


    ¡°Do you understand what just happened? What has gone on for generations?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see. We lie to our people. We sacrifice our own lives every damn year to get these eggs, so the Attican Empire can rule the world. Yes, I think I understand just¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Joren, his voice flaring, grateful for the runic wards in this room. ¡°You are so full of your own thoughts, you haven¡¯t even considered why we do this. Our entire livelihood depends on this. Don¡¯t you see? The safety and sanctity of this island, of our very people, depends on this agreement. Have you any idea what would happen if the world discovered what¡¯s on this island?¡±


    Malik threw up his hands in fury. ¡°You believe that¡¯s worth lying to our people? Sacrificing our own children?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Worth Uncle Pender¡¯s life? Derrin¡¯s?¡±


    Joren pounded the table. ¡°Yes, I believe it¡¯s worth our entire lives! Our entire tradition! Yes! Gods damn it!¡±


    The words hung in the air, all Joren¡¯s guilt and frustration and bitterness rising up all at once.


    Malik stared at him, fire in his eyes. Rage, confusion, bitterness. And Joren didn¡¯t blame him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know who we are anymore,¡± Malik said.


    The words pierced like claws into Joren¡¯s heart, digging and wrenching, but there was nothing he could do.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t seen what I¡¯ve seen,¡± said Joren softly.


    His son¡¯s next words seemed inevitable. ¡°Well, maybe I should.¡±

 21 - Worlds Collide

    Riese let her bonespear fly with a surge of hish. It shot through the air and struck the tusked boar in the chest mid-stride with a resounding thud.


    It didn¡¯t even squeal. The beast simply collapsed on its side.


    Cheers resounded around her. Half a dozen Faltari youths paused to congratulate her on the first kill of the contest,before bounding off through the trees, whooping and hollering, keeping tabs on the other contestants.


    Yuri clapped her on the back.


    ¡°Ha! Imperial soldier, my ass!¡±


    Yuri wasn¡¯t much of a hunter, and had merely tagged along for support.


    It was custom for the Faltari to pair off with foreigners for the games. Riese¡¯s companion, an Attican woman named Deven jogged past the boar and retrieved her own spear, which had sailed over its head.


    The woman was tall and strong. Dark hair and sun-specked pale skin suggested she was likely of mixed Attican race. Deven stooped to inspect the kill as Riese joined her.


    Already, its breaths had stilled. But Riese had felt the boar¡¯s spirit expire moments after her spear struck home.


    Riese had learned long ago the agony of a prolonged kill. Her first stag, she¡¯d had to slit its throat while it squirmed to get free, and it had been a slow a gruesome death.


    Deven shook her head. ¡°Gods damn! And on the run, no less. I¡¯m impressed.¡±


    ¡°Not bad for a bloody heathen, ey?¡± Yuri jabbed.


    ¡°Yuri, god¡¯s breath, leave it alone,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Nah,¡± said Deven, flashing a smile. ¡°Not bad at all, heathen.¡±


    Riese smiled. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m captain of the House Rykus guard,¡± Deven said. ¡°Not some imperial grunt, I¡¯ll have you know.¡± She shot Yuri a smirk. ¡°But I did my time.¡±


    The woman was perhaps in her mid-twenties. Skin weathered from hardship, much like most Faltari hunters. Some might have found her firm jaw and chiseled forearms off-putting, but Riese thought her nice to look at. Even if she was a heathen.


    She felt a twinge of guilt, but then, Lysa wanted little to do with her after her matching was announced, and she was currently entertaining the idea of running away from that too. From everything she¡¯d ever known.


    Something nagged at her spirit that she could not fully explain, but the minute Malik suggested they might leave, she could not shake it. And gods knew, they¡¯d have to befriend some foreigner to make that happen.


    Riese stooped down, pulling a bone dagger from her belt, and prepared to gut the beast, but Deven stopped her.


    ¡°Here.¡± The woman handed her a shimmering steel dagger.


    ¡°Shit,¡± said Yuri. ¡°How¡¯d you¡­¡±


    Deven shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s supposed to be for trade, but I thought for the hunt, it might be handy... anyway, I¡¯m not exactly trying to hide it, am I?¡±


    Yuri shrugged, but peered closer.


    Riese turned the blade over, light flashing on the silver edges. She brushed her calloused finger sideways against the edge. ¡°Gods, that¡¯s sharp.¡±


    ¡°Kirithian blade,¡± Deven said. ¡°Runemarked steel beneath the hilt for added strength and durability.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure? I¡¯d hate to dull the blade.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what the runes are for. Go on. My master¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°Your master?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a Kirithian method, but that¡¯s Valucian steel. I¡¯m supposed to show these off so Lord Rykus makes his trades. Don¡¯t worry, only a couple were allowed through your¡­ customs.¡±


    Riese proceeded to gut the boar, the blade slicing easily through abdomen. The sternum was more work, but far less than Riese had ever experienced. Steam wafted from the beast¡¯s insides as she drove her hands in and pulled out the boar¡¯s innards.


    When she was finished, she wiped the blade off on her pant leg. It was remarkably clean as she handed it back.


    ¡°Runemarked,¡± she said.


    Deven smiled and stowed it back in her pack. ¡°You just Ascended, I think I gathered.¡±


    Riese nodded.


    ¡°And betrothed too,¡± said Yuri.


    ¡°Well, well¡­¡± Deven winked at her. ¡°Tell your father, he ought to consider a Rykus blade for a gift, for either occcasion.¡±


    There was another cry further off, and more cheering.


    ¡°Someone else made a kill,¡± said Yuri.


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s hurry back,¡± said Riese, hefting the emptied carcass over her shoulders.


    ***


    Everything about this strange festival at the edge of the world was magnificent in Ava¡¯s eyes. It reminded her of the free city of Beirus, but without the enormous crowds and the foul memories and the influence of the eastern missionaries.


    Beirus was the only place on the continent of Erith¨¨a where the Empyrean Church of Elya had found a foothold. Where the power known as the Other was hailed as god itself, rather than a gift of the gods.


    The only place in the western continent where magic was practiced openly, and where there had been any chance at finding someone who might heal Ava¡¯s injuries sustained during the Valucian Uprising when she was but a child.


    The healing was incomplete, and required a sacrifice Ava would bear on her conscience the rest of her life. If it had been a true healer of the Elyan orders¡ªor maybe even a shaman from this very island¡ªperhaps it might have turned out different.


    Now, her injuries were settled, and she limped around on one bad leg rather than two. Without that botched healing, she would likely have had no chance at becoming at entering the Dawncrest Academy. Certainly not at becoming Dragonmount. But if not for that healing, perhaps¡­


    Ava pushed the thoughts from her mind.


    But for the faulty healing encounter, she¡¯d thought Beirus a beautiful place.


    But the Isle of Faltara elicited a different freedom, even from that of the free city-state of Beirus. Ava felt like she could breathe here, in a way she¡¯d only ever felt back in her family¡¯s lands. She¡¯d spent most of her youth in the sprawl of Attica City. Even Dawncrest itself was stifling, even if it was at the edge of the city. All walls and towers and training grounds.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    But here at the edge of the world, she felt at ease, like she did on the hillsides of her island home. Ava wished she could hold on to this feeling, though she knew all wishes were as fleeting as a summer breeze. This northern air cut straight through her woolen clothes and skin and chilled her bones.


    The other Attican youths, including Ruan, had joined the locals in a hunting contest along with many others. Her father was chatting with foreign vendors about longer term trade for his runemarked blades. And Ava wandered the markets alone.


    People from across the lands perused foreign trinkets and delicacies, but Ava hung near the outskirts, watching, taking it all in. She was used to lingering at the edges of things. People always hurried about, even friends like Ruan. Forgetting she moved slower. Apologizing¡ªalways the damn apologizing¡ªand then, the cycle would repeat all over again.


    It wasn¡¯t that Ava didn¡¯t mind being overlooked. But she¡¯d learned to take what was given her, and made it a strength. Ava Lucila Rykus had learned to watch people with the precision of a gods-damned falcon. Learned to read them, predict them. Bend them, when necessary. She¡¯d built her own strength. That did not mean it wasn¡¯t lonely.


    Ava hung near the edge of the Yerida markets. They began in the outer square, and into the village itself, and then, spilled beyond the outer walls to a meadow filled with crude barns and pens, filled with enormous mountain stags and strange wooly creatures that seemed to be part ox and part sheep. More vendor stalls lined a dirt path that led to an open meadow filled with tents.


    The grass was not long like such meadows in Attica or Valucia. It only reached halfway up her ankle-high leather boots, but the blades contained the deepest shades of green Ava had ever seen, perhaps amplified by the stark black rocks that jutted out from the hillsides.


    She gazed up beyond the stalls and the meadow and the columns of snowpine, tracing a wending path up the foothills that disappeared into the passes of the swiftly rising peaks of the island, where the Faltari came back from their Ascension ceremonies.


    Ava wondered if this was where all dragon eggs came from, or whether there more secret lands such as this.


    ¡°Curious place, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Ruan¡¯s voice.


    Ava turned, shifting her weight on her cane. Her knee ached more in the cold, but she never complained.


    ¡°Hunt¡¯s over?¡± she asked.


    Ruan shrugged. ¡°Thought you might appreciate some company.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re thoughtful,¡± she said. ¡°And yes, this place is curious, but I think it¡¯s lovely, in a primitive way.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like Campos has finished with their meeting.¡± Straight to the point. Ava liked that about Ruan. And no apologies for leaving her behind, either.


    ¡°They were at the temple,¡± Ruan added.


    ¡°Did they get them already?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Ava spotted Campos and Urla Pelasius near the edge of the meadow, speaking with traders from Ytan. The stall bore thick sacks of rice and small displays of herbs.


    ¡°I suppose we could ask your mother, couldn¡¯t we?¡± Ava teased, knowing Ruan was equal parts embarrassed and proud that his mother had been chosen to join Campos as his guard.


    The others were all jealous. Ava¡¯s father feigned offense in front of the others, though Ava knew he hadn¡¯t expected any such honor as a first-blood.


    It was all chance. Whose house¡¯s lands happened to be where, and which kingdoms happened to secede from the empire over the past century. Rykus blood was as ancient as any great house. They¡¯d been Dragon Lords once, in the First Age, her father claimed.


    ¡°My mother is too good at tending secrets,¡± Ruan said.


    ¡°Maybe you just need to be a more trustworthy son.¡±


    Ava shot him a wink.


    ***


    The festival stretched into the evening, but to Malik, it felt like eternity until nightfall.


    Hundreds of people milled around him, and Riese was nowhere to be seen since she¡¯d returned from the hunting games. In truth, he was annoyed with her for playing at all. But that was only because she had no idea the truth Malik had just uncovered.


    Malik joined Yuri for supper within the village, but he was infatuated with his new match, and carried a mug of ale with him at all times, and Malik was so tired of nothing being serious to his friend. All he wanted to talk about was Riese¡¯s hunt, and some runemarked hunting dagger, and making fun of all the foreigners. And predicting more Faltari matches that would surely come over the next couple of days.


    In the past, this had felt like a counter to Malik¡¯s own headiness. Tonight, it was utter aggravation. But Malik couldn¡¯t fault Yuri or his bride-to-be for that.


    It was what all Faltari did at the festival. All except his father, Malik supposed, and now, him. Cursed to bear weights no one even knew about. It seemed everywhere he turned, there was one of the Attican youths or their parents, or some of the other tall and muscular Atticans who¡¯d joined them, who he was certain must be guards or soldiers.


    All the foreigners from strange lands laughed and bandied stories and drank and formed impromptu dance circles in the streets as a bard struck up a tune. People were happy and content, and their minds swarmed around Malik like a raging torrent of frivolity.


    All Malik¡¯s existence seemed to form a nexus around this moment, and he couldn¡¯t even hear himself think.


    And he was shaman now, and he had duties to be seen and to be friendly. To offer blessings to Faltari families as they enjoyed their last nights of inter-clan unity before the traders left, and they hauled their supplies back to their respective villages, and the impending gloom of winter settled on the island and sealed off their lands from the world once more.


    The sun descended over the walls of the fjord, and the crowds gathered in the meadow in the fading light. Malik¡¯s father and the chieftains of the four clans all gathered at the crest of a small knoll, overlooking the crowd.


    Malik probably should have been with them, but he¡¯d avoided his father, and his father had not come hunting for him tonight.


    He stood at the back of the crowd, barely listening as Joren told the tale of the Crossing. How their ancestors had fled a land on the brink of destruction. How some had not learned the lessons, and had gone on to form empires and fight wars over land and power, just as had been done in the World Before.


    It was the same ritual his father performed every year, but Malik never realized how intentionally vague the tale was told. Joren did not speak of the Gate located on this very island. He spoke of their people arriving first on ¡°these shores¡± and proceeded from there.


    Faltari would apply their own meaning, and the others would do the same. Joren spoke blessings on the foreigners gathered, praying they would see the sanctity and peace of this sacred land, and remember.


    ¡°Look around this meadow. Here, there are gathered emissaries from every corner of the world, all coexisting in peace, for a day. It is not too late to learn.¡±


    Did we learn anything at all? Malik wondered.


    When his father had finished his speech, the chieftains thanked the traders for another successful trade. And then, a troupe of minstrels from Beirus struck up a song, and the crowds began to dance.


    Food vendors mingled with the crowds, selling roasted meat and vegetables on skewers of wood from Chardonia, bowls of rice noodles from Ytan, legs of grouse from Attica, and more.


    At last, Malik spotted Riese near the edge of the crowd with her family. He worked his way through the teeming masses.


    ¡°Malik!¡± cried Riese¡¯s mother, Toren. ¡°Good to see you, young shaman. My, it¡¯s hard to believe you¡¯re both Ascended now. And god¡¯s breath, Riese and Yuri both getting matched.¡±


    Vinder Perrinsein turned from his conversation with Riese¡¯s father and nodded to Malik, placing an arm around Riese¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Vinder, you know Malik, I trust,¡± said Lady Toren.


    The young man nodded with respect, but a hint of irritation in his spirit. ¡°Of course, shaman. May the breath of the gods remain upon you.¡±


    ¡°And you,¡± said Malik.


    Toren laughed. ¡°Riese and Malik have been friends since they were in babe¡¯s wraps! But Malik, when are you going to be matched? Even shamans have to carry on their lineage. I seem to recall you dancing with a very pretty girl during the Ascension cermeonies. Where has she gone off to?¡±


    Malik was growing tired of all the pleasantries. He felt he¡¯d been exchanging them for months, one festival right after the other.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been learning the shaman ways, ma¡¯am. Little time for courting, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, quite understandable... sorry, Malik. Yes, we¡¯re all most grateful for your service to our people. Where would we all be without men like you and your father. Certainly don¡¯t mean to make light of it.¡±


    ¡°No, of course, ma¡¯am. Er, do you all mind if I borrow Riese for a moment?¡±


    Riese was scowling. ¡°Can¡¯t it wait until later, Malik? I¡¯ll find you after¡ª¡±


    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯ll only be a moment, I promise you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s no problem,¡± Toren said. ¡°You two hardly see each other anymore, and with Malik being shaman now, and you being matched, Riese¡­ well, after the festival, you might not see one another for a while.¡±


    Riese¡¯s father laughed. ¡°We¡¯ll be with you all winter, dear. And besides, I¡¯ve been wanting to take up your new match on a round of spears.¡±


    ¡°The way Riese hunted today, I reckon I don¡¯t stand a chance,¡± said Vinder.


    Riese nodded. ¡°Yes, I suppose you¡¯re right.¡± She glanced up at Vinder apologetically. ¡°It¡¯ll just be a moment.¡±


    The young man shrugged, though Malik could sense irritation, but he ventured off with Riese¡¯s father, both men laughing.


    Riese seized Malik by the wrist and dragged him away from the crowd. She said nothing until they¡¯d withdrawn within the walled fort encompassing the village.


    ¡°I told you I wanted time with my family tonight, Malik.¡±


    ¡°I know¡­ it¡¯s important.¡±


    Malik led the way deeper into the village. A few youths were huddled in corners, drinking, and a young couple was pressed against the walls of a longhouse, lost in their passions.


    ¡°If we¡¯re leaving, Malik, I want to spend my final moments with my family before¡ª¡±


    ¡°Just trust me, okay?¡±


    Malik stopped near the great socha tree at the center of the inner village square and lowered his voice. There was no going back now.


    ¡°It¡¯s about your egg.¡±

 22 - Bloody Southerner

    Ava watched General Campos with curiosity, as he mingled amongst the festival-goers, chatting with a Faltari chieftain, then, with Urla and Ruan. The young shaman came by alone and exchanged brief words with the general, though Malik¡¯s eyes kept glancing toward a girl across the meadow, who never looked his way.


    Curious, Ava thought.


    Ava had seen the two slip away for a time, and was tempted to follow. The girl exuded irritation, though she went willingly nonetheless. But they¡¯d been moving quickly, and Ava knew she wouldn¡¯t be able to keep up.


    That feeling she¡¯d had when she first encountered Malik lingered still. An unsettling feeling. It must have been some form of shaman¡¯s power, brushing up against her spirit.


    The shaman moved on, vanishing into the crowds, and now, Campos spoke with Lady Thenius. Next, an Ytani trader.


    The general even had a friendly exchange with a Chardonian swindler, and if that wasn¡¯t a sign of the strange magic permeating this festival, Ava didn¡¯t know what was. The pleasantries were surely an act¡ªthe hostility between Atticans and Chardonians stretched back centuries¡ªbut both Campos and the swindler played their parts flawlessly for a full five minute conversation, nodding and laughing at the other¡¯s jokes and jibes.


    All around, strange peoples intermingled and feasted and drank and danced. There was beauty in it. At its root, this possibility was the same that drove her own family¡¯s ambitions, she supposed.


    Lady Thenius¡¯s daughter, Iriana, came by to speak with Ava for a few moments, only out of courtesy, for she swiftly moved on, flirting with the fourth Attican youth, Marcus, as well as a reserved Valgish boat hand, who¡¯d taken a liking to her. Iriana was playing the two of them, whether for the pleasure of the game or some other reason, Ava couldn¡¯t quite deduce.


    Evening stretched into night. Radiant swaths of stars brushed across the inky night canvas, and Ava remained at the edge of things, watching and listening, trying to get a read on the true essence of this island. It held secrets she longed to unravel. She could feel power here that did not exist elsewhere. Perhaps it was the free-flowing relationship the Faltari maintained with magic. Or perhaps it was more. Something native to the land itself. But the Other held so many secrets they were only beginning to unravel, and mostly in secret societies, or else, across the breadth of the world.


    Mum would¡¯ve been able to sense it, she thought absently, then swiftly suppressed the swell of emotions that threatened to rise at the thought of her mother. It was an uncharacteristic lapse on her part.


    Ava spotted the elder shaman across the crowd. Joren exuded power and strength, but there was fear buried in his spirit too, especially when near his son. She hadn¡¯t noticed the two together since the evening festivities had begun. Malik was nowhere to be seen now.


    Her own father spent much time sharing mead with the merchants, especially the Faltari.


    ¡°Do they know?¡±


    Ava turned. She hadn¡¯t felt the intruding presence at all. But she recovered quickly, smiling at the young shaman, as Malik took a place beside her.


    ¡°Know what?¡± she asked demurely.


    ¡°I sensed what you were the moment you stepped off that ship,¡± Malik said. ¡°Thought Atticans had strict rules about accessing what you call the Other.¡±


    Ava bristled at being found out so easily. She smiled. ¡°Your own gifts must be great, indeed, shaman. None of my schoolmasters know my affinities.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°You take tests, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°The Arcanist school tests all academy students, but they assume the test-takers are hoping to follow the Path of the Other. I failed by intent.¡±


    ¡°Attican magic is focused on material things.¡±


    ¡°Alchemy and artifices, yes.¡±


    ¡°But you focus all your hish on minds.¡±


    ¡°Focus my what?¡±


    ¡°The breath of the gods, what you call the Other. That breath flows freely here. It¡¯s invigorating for you, that¡¯s easily to tell. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re much better at hiding it back home.¡±


    Ava flashed a smile. She liked this shaman. ¡°You notice much. I¡¯m Ava, by the way. Ava Lucila Rykus.¡±


    ¡°Malik Jorensein,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yes, I caught that when we arrived.¡±


    ¡°Why do you hide your gifts?¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°The thought of sitting at desks, studying runespells and crafting channelers all day¡­ it bores me.¡±


    Predictably, the shaman slipped a glance at her cane, but said nothing.


    ¡°I suppose,¡± said Malik, ¡°nothing can compare with the lure of being a Dragonmount, can it?¡±


    Ava pursed her lips and held his gaze. His blue eyes danced in the torchlight at the edge of the field.


    ¡°You want something,¡± Ava said.


    Malik hesitated.


    ¡°Why were you speaking with Campos?¡± she continued.


    ¡°Merely exchanging pleasantries,¡± said Malik, though a flit of the eyes gave him away.


    ¡°Yes, shaman¡¯s duties, I¡¯m sure. Yet, you¡¯ve been gone for much of the celebration. Something tells me you¡¯ve been distracted. Something to do with that blonde huntress you ran off with earlier?¡±


    Malik blanched momentarily.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Ava. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m talking about. Just a foreigner with a faint affinity for sorcery, reading too much into things. And if that were true, you¡¯d walk away. But even though you like to be the one with the upper hand when it comes to sensing such things, I think whatever it is you want is too important. So what is it, and what¡¯s your offer?¡±


    ¡°My offer?¡±


    ¡°This is a trading festival, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Malik huffed, glanced away, then looked her straight in the eyes, stepping closer. ¡°When your ship leaves tomorrow morning, I want to be on it. Me and my friend, Riese. The blonde huntress. Is that possible?¡±


    ¡°Possible after Campos already dismissed you? Certainly difficult, at the very least. So what¡¯s the offer?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll teach you to wield your magic like a Faltari.¡±


    Ava raised a brow. ¡°And in exchange, you want me to use my gifts on the general?¡±


    Malik glanced around for a moment. He lowered his voice. ¡°I am forbidden from using my gifts to manipulate my own desires.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m a bloody southerner with no such scruples, is that it?¡± Ava¡¯s eyes grew wide, then, she smirked. ¡°All right, have it your way, but the first lesson starts right now.¡±


    ***


    Ava and Malik wandered from the crowd separately. Malik paused to speak with village elders and a young Saber couple who¡¯d just been matched.


    Ava paused momentarily once she reached the other side of the festival, where colored canopies and strings of small Beirusian paper lanterns were stretched between poles of wood.


    Ruan spotted her and hurried over, nearly spilling his ample mug of ale. ¡°Where are you going off to?¡±


    Ava glared at him. ¡°Wherever I please, thank you very much. Did you find anything of use?¡±


    ¡°The exchange has already been made,¡± said Ruan. ¡°We¡¯ll sail at first light.¡±


    The eggs won¡¯t travel by sea, surely, Ava thought. But the general hasn¡¯t been back to the ship. And the Lady Knight could never have smuggled a godblade ashore. Or could she?


    ¡°We need to be the first to see them, Ruan.¡±


    ¡°She said you¡¯d say that, you know.¡±


    ¡°Who, your mother?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s wary of your low-blood ambition.¡±


    ¡°Your mother is friends with an advisor to the emperor. You¡¯re son of a Dragonmount. Some of us weren¡¯t born with such connections.¡±


    She impressed a hint of guilt with her magic.


    Ruan Pelasius straightened up, frowning. ¡°I didn¡¯t say I agreed with her.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s always at least two eggs. Maybe neither of us will bond, but we could at least have the greatest chance, you and I.¡±


    Ruan nodded. ¡°I overheard Campos say he¡¯ll be sleeping back on the ship.¡±


    ¡°Then, we should too. Perhaps we could ride back with him.¡±


    ¡°Only he and the Lady Knight will be permitted on the ship tonight.¡±


    Shit, Ava thought.


    ¡°Maybe we could be first to the ship in the morning?¡± Ruan ventured.


    No, that will be too late. Everything hinges on being first contact with the eggs.


    ¡°Thank you, Ruan. You¡¯re a good friend. Go back and enjoy the festival.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t want company?¡±


    ¡°You know me,¡± Ava said softly. ¡°I like my privacy.¡±


    Ruan nodded to her. ¡°We¡¯ll get our eggs, Ava. I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    He returned to the festivities, and Ava hobbled away from the tents and into the copse of snowpine that encroached on the village.

 23 - The Fjuriin Path

    Malik¡¯s mind was a stormcloud of emotions, but he could not let himself dwell long on it. His path was laid before him.


    He watched the dark-haired Attican girl approach from the thick cover of trees and foliage, fumbling through the uneven ground, leading with her cane, grimacing only when she half-stumbled over a rock or root in the darkness. Her mind was steady, focused, controlled. He¡¯d sensed that the moment he saw her, and it impressed him how well she held herself despite the constant pain she suppressed.


    Ava Rykus was on a mission. Malik could give her something that would help her fulfill her task, and she could do the same for him and Riese.


    When Ava reached him, she paused and studied him briefly, the warmth of hish brushed past him.


    ¡°Why my ship?¡± she asked curiously. ¡°You could go with any trader, I expect.¡±


    ¡°I think you know why.¡±


    ¡°The cargo?¡± Ava asked.


    ¡°My cargo.¡±


    Riese emerged from behind a boulder and walked toward them. There was a fire in her eyes that seemed to have grown even brighter since Malik told her the truth. Her dragon egg survived, and she had the potential to bond. There was so much uncertainty. So many questions. But the knowledge that she was dragonbound had brought a clarity and focus Malik had never seen in his friend. More than on the hunt. More than on the Ascent. She walked with purpose and determination, finally understanding why she¡¯d felt so trapped.


    Ava took a step back as Riese approached, raising her cane from the ground, holding it almost like a blade.


    Riese raised her hands non-threateningly as she neared, but she eyed the Attican girl carefully. ¡°There¡¯s no one else out here. I scouted close. Malik says you can help us.¡±


    ¡°With your cargo?¡± Ava asked, lowering the cane again. ¡°I don¡¯t have any say about that. But I may be able to get you onboard our vessel. You have an¡­ attachment to our goods, do you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve just Ascended,¡± said Riese. ¡°And mine is one of the few that survived.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°Bonded?¡± Ava¡¯s eyes lit up at this.


    ¡°I don¡¯t fully know,¡± Riese said.


    Ava could sense the longing. ¡°Does it happen often? A Faltari bond?¡±


    Malik shook his head. ¡°Rare. I think the blood does not run much in our veins.¡±


    ¡°It is hereditary,¡± Ava said pensively. ¡°You would have to become an Attican citizen. Adoption would be the only way. It would take a great noble.¡±


    ¡°Like Campos?¡± Malik asked.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°Is it possible?¡± Riese asked. There was a pained desperation in her voice. Malik had only seen it shown the moment she released her egg, but her spirit had suffered much at the loss.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Ava said again. ¡°Campos rejected your initial request to stow away on our ship, though.¡±


    ¡°Campos wants control over the riders chosen, right?¡± Malik asked. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re here.¡±


    ¡°And you want me to give up my chance for you?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s three eggs,¡± said Malik. ¡°Enough for you and your friend.¡±


    ¡°Ruan?¡± Ava asked.


    ¡°You want to fight for Attica?¡± Ava asked, turning to Riese.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Well, all mounts fight for Attica, now, don¡¯t they? So, you¡¯d certainly better dig down and find out what it is you want.¡±


    ¡°All I know is that I¡¯ve been dying for something all my life, and I didn¡¯t know what. When I touched that egg, something¡­ shifted. I don¡¯t know how to explain it. I felt lost after I thought I destroyed it. And now¡­ look, I don¡¯t know if I can be a mount, or could ever convince Campos or anyone else, but all I know is I have to try.¡±


    Malik watched Ava closely as she listened to Riese bear her soul. There was a hitch in her spirit. Something subtle, but unmistakable. Something about Riese¡¯s experience that was shared.


    ¡°Well, I may be willing to help,¡± Ava said. ¡°But first, the exchange.¡±


    Malik nodded and stepped toward her. ¡°You have skill with magic, but it¡¯s unfocused.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You treat hish¡ªer, the Other¡ªlike it is something threatening. Like it¡¯s a flame that can only be held at arm¡¯s length.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good metaphor,¡± Ava said. ¡°We¡¯re raised with this teaching.¡±


    ¡°Our words shape our world,¡± Malik said, echoing his own teaching. ¡°They determine what is possible. If you believe magic is a threatening force that could destroy you, you will approach it only a certain way. Yes, it is powerful. Yes, it could destroy you. But only if you don¡¯t know how to handle it. You can pass your hand straight through a flame, if you do it with precision and speed. The breath of the gods is little different.¡±


    Ava focused for a moment, and Malik sensed the pulse of hish.


    ¡°But it is something outside us, isn¡¯t it? Even the Elyans believe that, I¡¯m told. Clearly, it¡¯s stronger in some places than others. I¡¯ve felt that since we arrived.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Malik nodded, recalling his own father¡¯s teaching, trying not to think of his anger and remorse.


    ¡°It is out there,¡± Malik said, gesturing up at the sky, only barely visible through the pine branches. ¡°And it is also here.¡± He pressed his hand against the right side of his chest, the opposite side of the heart, where Faltari believed the spirit resides. ¡°There are traces everywhere, like vapor in the air. We draw it in and out like the air we breathe, into our own spirit.¡±


    ¡°We are the channel,¡± Ava realized suddenly.


    ¡°With practice, some can be,¡± Malik said. ¡°You¡¯ve been trying to hold a torch when you have the ability to breathe fire.¡±


    Riese rolled her eyes, but Ava marveled once again at his words.


    ¡°You can sense the power around you, yes?¡± Malik asked, stepping closer.


    Ava straightened up, supporting herself on her cane. She closed her eyes like Faltari children did before they learned to see the forces of both physical and spiritual worlds with the same eyes. For they were not separate as these southern barbarians believed. All reality was intertwined.


    Malik focused his own sight, eyes open, and saw the currents threading through the world, emanating from the ground, shifting on the breeze, swirling amongst the skies, pulsing in his own spirit as he opened up his sight to the breath of the gods.


    Threads of magic circulated near Ava, drawing close, though most slipped past her. She was unpracticed, but when she opened her eyes, they flashed with wonder.


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve been breathing underwater through a reed all my life, and I¡¯ve just come up and taken my first full breath.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad metaphor yourself,¡± Malik said. ¡°But you¡¯re still very far from a full breath. Even my father, the most powerful on the island, must take care not to draw too much hish into his spirit.¡±


    ¡°Incredible.¡± Ava sighed, eyes still closed, drawing more in.


    ¡°We have practices and rituals for honing this skill,¡± Malik said. ¡°Learning to hold hish for later use. Perhaps I can show you more on your ship.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d have to be careful,¡± Ava said. ¡°There¡¯s a Knight of Caadron aboard. I haven¡¯t dared use magic around her. But here, all you Faltari are using it, so her senses are surely muddied.¡±


    ¡°We are children of the gods,¡± Malik said. ¡°Blessed with the gift of their breath.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± said Riese, butting back in. ¡°Now, it¡¯s your turn, Lady Attica. How are we getting on your ship?¡±


    ***


    Urla Pelasius stuck close to Campos, slowly sipping a flagon of Attican wine as the evening waned. But her eyes followed Ruan carefully, especially when he was near Ava Rykus. Urla was relieved when the girl ventured off, though she could not say exactly what it was about Ava that unnerved her.


    ¡°She¡¯s using you to get close to Campos,¡± Urla had told her son.


    ¡°Are we not using Campos the same way? Does that mean you¡¯re not his friend?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be foolish. He was your grandfather¡¯s best friend.¡±


    But her son¡¯s words lingered in her mind.


    It was true. She¡¯d taken a liking to Campos as a young girl, when her father still lived and ruled House Vestra, and she was not yet a Pelasius. When Campos had been a powerful ally, and she had recognized the value in endearing herself to him.


    Campos was without wife or child, and rather an outcast in the capital, as she was an outcast amongst most Attican ladies. Ava was clearly an outcast as well. And Ruan¡­


    While high-blood Attican, he had long lacked the most valued Fjuriin traits¡ªcharisma and cunning. She could see how much he¡¯d grown during her time at war, not just in body, but in will. He was more Fjuriin than ever before. He stood his ground. Walked tall. Though he remained quiet and pensive, for the most part.


    Most of the Faltari chieftains and traders had reached the point in their festivities where talk of the world and politics and rumors had dwindled to bawdy tales. It would turn serious again soon enough, she knew.


    Campos sipped from the same flagon of wine he¡¯d taken early in the night, kept his satchel close, his servant Baro standing watch over it and several other goods they¡¯d brought ashore.


    It was clever, she thought, to hide the most valuable possession in the world right here in the open.


    ¡°If you want them to believe you¡¯ve nothing to hide, hide nothing,¡± Campos had said when she protested the risk of such a brazen act. But most traders carried their own satchels of possessions, all of which had been thoroughly searched upon their arrival. What could anyone suspect?


    Ruan sauntered over, laughing with the other girl from the academy, a girl named Iriana Thenius, high-blood like Ruan. Dark-haired, bronze-skinned, and brown-eyed like a proper Attican girl. High-cheeks and strong jaw. Slender and agile and strong.


    She giggled at a whispered joke, taking a long swig of wine as they neared. She was the sort of girl Ruan would have been sheepish to speak with two years ago.


    ¡°What do you think, Consul General?¡± Iriana asked, turning to Campos and flashing a pursed-lipped smile. ¡°Are we entering an age of peace or war?¡±


    Urla sighed. It was turning serious again.


    ¡°What do you say?¡± Campos asked, smiling enduringly.


    ¡°There¡¯s always a lull between campaigns,¡± Iriana said. ¡°How long will this lull last?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not wrong. Even the Sigan conquest was not planned. It was a retaliation over disputed land. Our wise Emperor simply made the best use of the moment.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡± said Iriana, grinning over at Ruan. ¡°In two decades, we¡¯ve retaken Taika, Ytan, Valucia, Kirithia, and now, Siga. Surely, we must take time to reveal in it.¡±


    Campos raised a brow. Urla glanced around, but their present company had dwindled to members of their own party. The din was loud enough, it was doubtful any passersby heard her. Still, it left Urla on edge. It would not do to disturb the harmony of this festival.


    Campos shrugged and kept his voice low. ¡°What are your thoughts, young Pelasius?¡±


    Ruan straightened. ¡°It¡¯s the same thing every Attican is speculating. With Siga, we¡¯ve retaken all the old lands most commonly regarded as true Attica. The Good Emperor Vitruvian ended his reign with an Age of Prosperity. Will his protege choose the same?¡±


    ¡°Clearly, Lady Thenius believes this to be the case.¡±


    ¡°Or at least a longer stretch of peace,¡± said Iriana, nudging Ruan playfully in the shoulder. ¡°Our victory is fresh and in everyone¡¯s minds. The Valgs are no threat. And the Chardonians are surely pissing their pants now. I¡¯ve seen how they look at us when they think we¡¯re not watching at this bloody festival. Attica is properly feared again. No one would dare an uprising now.¡±


    ¡°But you don¡¯t think so, Ruan?¡± Campos asked.


    Ruan paused a moment, weighing his words, or at least pretending to, in true Fjuriin fashion. ¡°I believe Iriana is right that we are feared. And right that our neighbors would be fools to wage war with Attica so fresh off a victory. But I do not believe our Dragon Emperor would settle for peace.¡±


    ¡°Why is that?¡± Campos smiled.


    ¡°The continent remains divided. All Atticans long in their hearts for another true Golden Age. I think we are on the verge of another Age of Fire. And the next move will be sudden and swift. The first real act of conquest is coming very soon.¡±


    Urla watched the fire in her son¡¯s eyes. How he longed to be a hero in such an age. As all soldiers did. To fight for honor and glory and lift their great nation to heights not known in centuries.


    And the Dragonmounts, most of all.


    Campos smiled and patted both youths on the shoulders. ¡°You two have had much drink. You want an answer, and that, I do not have. But I expect there is truth in both your words. Prosperity or conquest? That is the great question of history, and the answers are always intertwined. There can be no peace without conquest, but reach too far, and you risk unraveling all that has been won, and the peace and prosperity of victory is lost. History is full of many lessons of such overreach. But the present path forward is unclear and the answer not ours to determine. We may only choose how we hold ourselves, in times of peace or war. The Fjuriin Path, no?¡±


    Both youths shook their heads and smiled in reverence.


    ¡°Very wise, Consul,¡± Iriana said, her hand resting on Ruan¡¯s shoulder briefly. Ruan glanced around subconsciously, and Urla knew he was searching for Ava Rykus.


    Perhaps he¡¯s playing her as well, Urla realized with bemusement.


    But Ava was still nowhere to be seen.


    ¡°Well, my friends,¡± said Campos. ¡°I believe it is time for this old sage to retire for the evening. Festivals are wasted on old men like me. Enjoy yourselves. But be sure to return to the ship at first light. Good night.¡±

 24 - The Shrine

    Malik¡¯s nerves were on edge as he and Riese slipped amongst the trees near the wharf. They hid near the path¡ªbarely more than a game trail¡ªthat wound through the woods on the outskirts of Yerida village.


    The docks, of course, were located just outside the village gates. The vast dirt-trodden square, where Malik and his father had greet the Attican party, bridged the space between the village and the forest. On most nights, gates on both ends of the village would be shut at sundown to keep out predators, but during the festival, the gates remained open, monitored by Faltari hunters.


    A pair of longboats, lit by lanterns, made their way toward ships, ferrying leftover cargo from the day¡¯s trade under the moonlit night. Some exchanges occurred between nations, but most of the actual trading was made with Faltara, and was finished before the evening¡¯s celebrations began. Likely, these ferrymen were lowly servants doing the work while their masters feasted and enjoyed themselves. Or else, they belonged to the pleasure barges of Beirus, escorting traders and the occasional Faltari.


    Malik had noted more than a couple traders slipping away with a painted woman, though of course, their garb remained modest on Faltari shores. He¡¯d heard bawdy tales from a few boys a couple years his senior. Dragyrs were especially known for sending their newly come-of-age sons to the barges during the Festival of the Fading Sun. A sort of yearly taste of uhmskara, they claimed. Though, it was true Dragyrs rarely left their people. Though Malik doubted the reason was the annual bedding of a painted woman of Beirus.


    I bet Aram Tulsein is one of them, Malik though spitefully, as he watched a man and woman pass through the gates, making their way toward the docks.


    It was a false piety to an extent. Even a shaman¡¯s son couldn¡¯t help but be curious about the ways of the beautiful women of foreign lands, even if he sensed the practice was wrong. Yet, it was not forbidden, even among the Faltari.


    From a few of his mother¡¯s comments over the years, Malik was almost certain his own father had spent an evening with a courtesan before they met, during his Wandering. But every tale was always left vague, even from his mother.


    ¡°What are you thinking about?¡± Riese asked.


    Malik felt his cheeks flush. ¡°Just, er, wondering about the world beyond. You?¡±


    They¡¯d both been quiet for some time.


    ¡°I was thinking of my family,¡± she said. ¡°I won¡¯t even be able to say goodbye.¡±


    In truth, Malik had given his own family little thought. He was angry and curious and restless, but not sorry about his decision. ¡°We¡¯ll be back in a year or two.¡±


    ¡°Maybe you will. If I actually `were to be a Dragonmount¡­ I might never return.¡±


    Malik nodded, chastened at his self-absorption yet again.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± he whispered.


    ¡°You¡¯re a damn shaman, Malik. You know more than anyone that¡¯s not how we¡¯ve been taught make these kinds of decisions.¡±


    ¡°No. We¡¯re taught to protect family and clan. More than anything else in the world. We¡¯re taught to lie. About the Ascent. About what happens to the eggs. Who knows what else?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that simple for you?¡±


    Of course it wasn¡¯t. Malik had never been more torn in his life, but the words he spoke were filled with a conviction he was trying to instill in himself as much as Riese. ¡°We have to figure the truth out for ourselves. We have to find what we believe. I think that¡¯s what uhmskara has always been about.¡±


    ¡°Another of our wise traditions,¡± said Riese with a huff of laughter. ¡°I just wonder¡­ maybe that¡¯s exactly what Rayne Seversein thought too.¡±


    Malik grimaced. ¡°Maybe he was right to leave. Maybe he wasn¡¯t a traitor like we were always taught. Maybe Rayne is just one more in a long history of lies meant to hide our heads in the sand.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°So, what is it you want? Because I can sense it¡¯s not as torn as you¡¯d like me to think.¡±


    Riese put on the air of an affront, but settled into a smirk. ¡°I¡¯m wary about the Dragonmounts. The Empire. But I¡¯ve always wanted to test myself. On the hunt. The Ascent. But ever since I first touched that egg, I¡¯ve felt a restlessness I can¡¯t explain.¡±


    ¡°The blood runs in your veins.¡±


    They both spun to find Ava Rykus right behind them. Malik had been so focused on the gates and their conversation, he hadn¡¯t even felt her resonance approach.


    ¡°I feel that, too,¡± said Ava. ¡°I think I¡¯ve always felt it. I just didn¡¯t always know what it was. I¡¯m meant to be Dragonmount. I¡¯m going to be Dragonmount. And if what you say is true, I think you will be too. My father says the lottery is less about the dragons and more about the rider to begin with. You¡¯ve already show the potential. But quiet now. Here comes the general.¡±


    Ava pointed to the gates with her black cane, where Consul General Campos emerged from the village, accompanied by a manservant carrying a large rucksack. They were followed closely by several other men and women, members of the man¡¯s personal guard, if Malik had to guess. They all carried packs and trunks. The Attican goods of trade from the day.


    ¡°Come along, but hang back a ways. He should see you, but not feel threatened. You know what he holds.¡±


    Malik and Riese nodded.


    The girl made her way toward the center of the square, right leg hitching only slightly as she walked.


    Malik and Riese followed, emerging from the path and pausing at a wooden bench near the edge of the square.


    They were too far to make out words, but Campos was shaking his head at Ava, who offered calm responses.


    ¡°What if he refuses?¡± Riese asked.


    ¡°He won¡¯t,¡± said Malik.


    ¡°How could you know that?¡±


    Malik focused his senses on the man¡¯s spirit. No, he could not make out words, but he could gather the timbre of Campos¡¯s resonance.


    ¡°He¡¯s a politician,¡± Malik said. ¡°His actions are a show that don¡¯t match his spirit.¡±


    Malik had got the same sense from the man at the exchange, the minute he realized there were three eggs this year, not one or two. Else, Malik never would have approached Ava with this proposition at all. Campos was wary of eggs falling into the wrong noble¡¯s hands, even among his own party. And he held a deep fascination with the Faltari.


    ¡°You sensed that when you approached him the first time?¡±


    Malik shrugged. ¡°Perhaps. I was planting the seed. And I think this girl will make it grow.¡±


    She punched him in the shoulder. ¡°And you didn¡¯t say anything?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no master at these things,¡± Malik said. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to¡­ you know¡­ get your hopes up.¡±


    Riese snorted. ¡°If you were worried about that you never would have told me the truth about the egg.¡±


    ¡°Look.¡±


    Malik and Riese both watched as Campos spoke briefly with his retinue of plain-clothed guards, and then, the men and women marched across the square, made their way to the docks, and began loading things onto multiple longboats. Only Campos, Ava, and the manservant remained.


    Slowly, the three meandered across the square, strolling right past Malik and Riese, before pausing a short distance away, at the edge of the square. Campos turned, met their gaze, and smiled.


    ¡°Well, hurry along, will you?¡± the general said. ¡°We must speak quickly, if you wish to speak at all.¡±


    Malik and Riese rose from the bench and strode over. Before Malik could speak, the general led the way to the narrow path near the edge of the docks, which wended swiftly up through the woodlands outside the village. They paused at the entrance. Malik glanced back at the Attican guards, noting one powerful-looking woman with dark skin, who did not help load goods, and watched Campos and the others carefully.


    ¡°She¡¯s a knight,¡± said Campos.


    ¡°A Knight of Caadron?¡± asked Riese.


    Campos shrugged. ¡°On this shore, she is only a trader, isn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Does she have her¡­¡± Riese began, then thought better of it.


    Campos smiled. ¡°Malik tells me that you, young Riese, wish for the opportunity to embrace your destiny. If what he says about your connection is true, this may be a possibility. Come, I¡¯ve instructed my guards to allow us a half hour before I must depart. But, of course, such sensitive matters can¡¯t be handled in the open air of the village square, now, can they?¡±


    Malik nodded, realizing they were playing parts out here in the open. ¡°Would you like to see our Unity Shrine, Lord General? It¡¯s just up this path.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way, shaman.¡±


    It was only a few minutes walk from the docks, up and over a small hill, across a stream that spilled into the fjord, and partway up the steep foothills that surrounded the village. Timber had been cleared from a shelf in the hillside long ago, leaving a flat expanse the breadth of a longhouse, with four enormous wooden poles carved with runes and paint, the heads of the four sacred beasts at the crest of each in the colors of the clans. Each looked both regal and fierce, sharp features and watchful eyes.


    The heads were set so that they stood against a backdrop of granite, when seen from a distance, whether from a ship approaching the village, or from the fields outside the village itself. But here, they towered over them against a backdrop of stars.


    Campos gazed up only briefly at the majestic heads, then knelt, and removed the pack from his shoulders. His manservant stood back, arms crossed. The man was built like a warrior, thick shoulders and thighs evident despite his loose-fitting pants and woolen tunic.


    Malik, Riese, and Ava gathered around Campos as the general untethered the leather fastenings. Riese and Ava both drew a sharp breath as he removed the first egg.

 25 - Bound

    The egg was the size of a human child¡¯s head, somehow small in Campos¡¯s large hands. Thick, hard-ridged scales shimmered in gradient shades of red and violet with a distinct crimson glow emanating from its core.


    The sight sucked all the breath out of Ava¡¯s lungs. All her life, she had anticipated this moment. To see a real dragon egg with her very eyes. A pang coursed through her, knowing this egg would never be hers.


    ¡°It shines even brighter now,¡± said Campos, glancing from the egg to Malik. ¡°You weren¡¯t lying, shaman. There is a fierce potential¡ªeven a longing¡ªfor this bond. Of course, nothing is final, but¡­¡±


    Campos extended the egg to Riese, who hesitated. The tall girl had the build of a warrior, muscles rippling down her shoulders and arms like mighty rivers of sinew and bone. A strength Ava envied, no matter the pride she took in her own mental and spiritual strength. Riese had the look of a Dragonmount, yet still, she hesitated.


    Riese held out her hands, then, withdrew. Her fingers trembled.


    ¡°It is daunting to face one¡¯s fate,¡± said Campos. ¡°There is no going back from a bond, once it is fully formed.¡±


    ¡°When is it final?¡± Riese murmured.


    ¡°When the bonding rites have been completed, which, of course, cannot be accomplished until we reach Attica. You could walk away now, and this egg would bond with another rider. But if this were an Attican lottery, such potential for a bond would never be denied.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what it means to be Dragonmount,¡± Riese said.


    Campos chuckled. ¡°Nor do I, my dear. They are a mystery to all outside their ranks. The guardians of the world.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not Attican.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯e not thought of yourself as such,¡± said Campos. ¡°But these lands are under Attican control and protection, whether you¡¯ve known it or not. Your people have served the empire for many years. And the Dragon Emperor. Well, let¡¯s just say the influence of the Dragon Lords has proved problematic over the years, and the emperor has chosen me to find riders who will serve him, not the interests of a gods-damned lord house. Two potential riders were chosen before we even reached these shores, and I¡¯ve a third egg. So it would seem, our fates have entwined.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know me,¡± said Riese.


    Campos nodded and gazed at the glowing egg. ¡°I know who you are, Riese. And I am Fjuriin. I know a path when it¡¯s let before me. Do you?¡±


    Riese hesitated.


    ¡°My father taught me something, and I¡¯ve always conducted myself with that teaching in mind. The world is a ruinous place for those that run from who they really are. Always stay true to your path.¡±


    You speak the truth there, Consul, most certainly, Ava thought.


    ¡°But time is not in your favor,¡± Campos added. ¡°You must choose now, Riese. Will you follow your path or flee from it?¡±


    Riese took one long breath and released it, then she took the egg between her hands. Instantly, the glow surged, expanding from the core of the egg to cover its entirety.


    ¡°I believe that dragonling approves your decision. Now, two more.¡±


    Campos reached into his satchel and removed a dark blue egg. Ava¡¯s heart pounded, the pang raging in her gut as the egg glowed with an icy luminescence.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± he said, extending the egg to her.


    Blood surged in Ava¡¯s body. Energy surged in her mind, swept her straight back to her childhood¡ªbefore the Fall of Valucia, and the toll the war took on her own young body¡ªwhen Ava would race through waves of long grass with her parents. Soaring down hilly meadows, weaving amongst copses of elm trees and towering oaks. Running till her entire body was flushed and her lungs full and gasping, and all the world thrummed with the immediacy and fervor of life as it was meant to be.


    Her fingers grasped that egg, and her spirit soared just the same.


    All at once, Ava felt the rush of the wind washing over her. Magic surged through her spirit, the radiance of the Other filling her within and without, and she recognized her unity with that power behind the world.


    The Other.


    The shaman¡¯s lesson appeared all the more obvious as she recognized that unity and separateness between her own self and the resonance radiating from the egg in her hands.


    They were both separate and one, and Ava would never let anything come between them.


    She looked up, and Campos was smiling.


    ¡°Yet another fierce potential,¡± he said. ¡°And now, the third.¡±


    Surprised, Ava glanced at Malik, who drew back, waving his hands dismissively. ¡°Sorry, General, but I¡¯m afraid I have no bond.¡±


    ¡°No, of course not, son.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s talking about me.¡±Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Ava glanced up at the feminine voice.


    Iriana Thenius stepped from the path behind them. The girl had come alone, following the same path the four of them had taken, which surely meant that Campos had alerted his knight to this plan.


    Three eggs, and she and Iriana were always his choice.


    He never intended for Ruan to bond, she realized.


    Iriana joined them, a thin smile on her full lips. The young woman was a more typical Attican noble. Tall and athletic and beautiful. Ancient blood, if from a middling house. But did she have the mettle of a warrior of the skies?


    Ava had her doubts about the Skymount student.


    ¡°It is not my choice, in the end, Iriana,¡± Campos said.


    It was talk. Whatever might be said of Campos, it was clear he knew exactly what he was doing. Ava hadn¡¯t even needed to manipulate him about Malik and Riese. She suspected he¡¯d planned this the moment he discovered the third egg, already with the potential to bond.


    ¡°Our own choice is only a part in this game,¡± Campos said, clapping Iriana on the shoulder, and drawing her over. He reached inside the satchel and withdrew the final dragon egg, a gorgeous golden one that seemed to be coated in an effervescent sheen. Ava couldn¡¯t determine whether or not this was a glow, or the nature of the dragon egg itself.


    But as Iriana took the egg in her hands, the egg shone perceptibly brighter.


    Poor Ruan, Ava thought absently.


    Sure, she¡¯d used him to get here. But it didn¡¯t mean she felt good about it. She kept telling herself she¡¯d make good on it, when everything came together. Yet, she hadn¡¯t invited Ruan to join this little charade anymore than Campos had.


    Because you didn¡¯t want him to get hurt, she reminded herself. Tried to convince herself. No, because you didn¡¯t trust him. Even after all he¡¯s done. Despite his goodness, and his knowledge about the true ways of the world. Still, you feared he would choose ambition. You feared he would turn out just like you.


    Iriana¡¯s cheeks flushed as her mind made contact with the spirit within that sacred shell. Iriana closed her eyes, and Campos smiled.


    Ava seethed inwardly.


    Perhaps this was for the best. Iriana¡¯s presence already complicated things enough.


    As for the Faltari, well, she¡¯d see if she¡¯d chosen the right path soon enough.


    The clearing was cast in darkness as the moon slipped behind a large shadow.


    ¡°We should be going,¡± said Campos. ¡°You¡¯ve all made contact. So long as you remain near the eggs, another will be unable to form a bond, and the lottery will go as we please, so long as no one knows how it was accomplished, it will appear a random selection. But for now, the eggs must remain in my possession, until this game is complete. Baro?¡±


    ¡°Of course, master,¡± the manservant said. He turned to Iriana, and set the satchel upon the ground in front of her. She reached down, hesitated only a moment, then set the egg inside.


    As she rose, there was a meaty crunch as Baro seized the girl¡¯s head between his hands and wrenched.


    The girl slumped to the ground in a heap.


    Campos cried out, horrified.


    Malik and Riese both staggered back, clutching their eggs. Fear and shock overwhelming them.


    Ava leapt into action.


    This was the moment she¡¯d waited for, trained for, spent all her life pandering to the fucking Atticans.


    And she would not fail.


    Campos lunged at Baro, rage and terror and confusion distorting his face.


    He did not even glance at Ava. She pressed the secret lever located in the head of her cane.


    The Faltari hadn¡¯t even taken it from her while they¡¯d checked her.


    Oh, the poor, poor cripple. Be gentle.


    Grimacing at the quick motion, Ava whipped the concealed weapon around, a razor-sharp Kirithian blade the length of her hand now jutting from the end of her cane.


    With a perfectly executed flourish, she swept it across Campos¡¯s throat before.


    His skin spread like the peel of a fruit against her runemarked blade. Her father¡¯s gift to the Atticans would be their gods-damned demise.


    Campos dropped to his knees, clutching his throat, blood gurgling over trembling fingers. Desperate intakes of breath mixed with a gruesome croaking sound.


    Though it was her first kill, the gore had no effect on Ava. Ava had seen more horrors by the age of seven than most academy girls would ever see.


    Or perhaps, now, they would.


    There was crunch and thud behind her.


    Ava spun, senses focused, searching, holding the cane before her. The act sent a pang up her side, but she had never felt more alive than this.


    Baro¡¯s body slumped against the back of a tree, unmoving.


    For a moment, she didn¡¯t understand. Neither Malik or Riese had brought weapons, she¡¯d watched them both too carefully.


    Magic¡­


    Ava¡¯s insides knotted as she faced Malik and Riese. The shaman¡¯s spirit pressed against her own. With horror, she realized she could not move, though she felt no pain.


    Malik¡¯s face contorted with rage and fear and sorrow.


    ¡°What have you done?¡± he demanded.


    Riese took the cane from Ava¡¯s frozen grasp. She hurried over to investigate Baro¡¯s body.


    A Valucian servant, earning his way into the good graces of one of the most powerful men in the empire for decades. Serving him however he required. Biding his time.


    Riese checked the manservant¡¯s pulse and shook her head, returning to Malik¡¯s side.


    It was a good death, Ava thought. A path of flames.


    But her own mission was not done.


    ¡°Malik, Riese, I need you to listen to me. I mean you no harm, I promise you. And neither did Baro.¡±


    Malik shook his head, huffing with uncontrolled laughter, surveying the carnage.The Consul General twitched on the ground. Unconscious, at least, as he neared death.


    ¡°Oh, well, that¡¯s comforting.¡± There was no tremble in Riese¡¯s hands as she held the cane blade up to Ava¡¯s throat.


    Ava felt the release of the shaman¡¯s magic, but she did not dare move.


    ¡°Give me one good reason not to slit your throat,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you three,¡± Ava said calmly, glancing down at the dragon eggs on the ground.


    Malik knelt at the general¡¯s side, tore a long strip of cloth from his own tunic and wrapped it around the man¡¯s throat, whispering words in a language Ava did not recognize. A death rite, perhaps. Her blade had struck true. The general would be dead any moment. She was sure of it.


    Campos remained still.


    Malik stood and faced her. ¡°Where are the others?¡±


    ¡°Others?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t sent here alone,¡± Riese said. ¡°Who sent you?¡±


    Ava rolled her eyes. ¡°Are you going to stand there and tell me you¡¯re Attican loyalists now? I saw the way you looked at us when we arrived, shaman. And you, Riese, I know why you hesitated. Whatever bargain your ancestors may have struck, Attica represents the exact opposite of this place. You¡¯ve been forced to serve. We all have. But the time has finally come to¡ª¡±


    Riese struck her shoulder with the broadside of the cane, sending piercing pain shooting down her spine and into her leg. Ava dropped to the ground, body drawing inward.


    ¡°Answer the question,¡± Riese said.


    Ava bit the inside of her lip, and forced herself to ignore the pain, as she had so many times in her life. ¡°Don¡¯t you hear them?¡±


    They all went quiet.


    There was commotion on the air. From this distance, it was difficult to distinguish from the din of the festival. But the sounds had changed.


    The ground trembled beneath their feet, and flames erupted from the direction of the harbor.


    Ava smiled. ¡°They¡¯re here.¡±

 26 - Up in Flames

    Bursts of fire exploded across the night sky from direction of the harbor.


    At once, the serenity of this quaint island ritual vanished. The crowds descended into madness all around, and Urla¡¯s battle instinct took over.


    She sprinted from the fields on the far side of the village. Weaving between frantic bodies. Heading straight toward the flames.


    Urla had to find Campos. And Ruan. Where the bloody Abyss had her son gone? He¡¯d been right there only minutes ago.


    But she¡¯d left her guard down. Lulled in by the magic of the night, and Campos¡¯s assurances, and the strange beauty of so many disparate cultures gathered in one place. Pulled in conversation with Thenius and Rykus, recounting tales of battles with her fellow captain and sharing capital gossip with Thenius, who¡¯d become far more amiable after a few hits of Faltari dream smoke earlier in the night.


    Gods damn me to the pits of Skrala, I should have watched Ruan more carefully.


    She hadn¡¯t wanted to be that mother. Her son was a man grown. A potential Dragonmount. And she was a Lady Captain of the imperial legions, ordered to mingle with the other parents and act fascinated by the ritual, and she¡¯d fallen into the role even more than expected. Not realizing just how much she¡¯d longed for a night of frivolity after the Sigan campaign, after the dragonfall.


    Now, she was only grateful she¡¯d still had the sense not to dull her wits with drink or smoke.


    Dark plumes filled the skies on the other side of the village as she raced through the village lanes. Only two things could trigger such an explosion. And there were no Dragonmounts here.


    Her lungs kept a steady rhythm as she lumbered forward. The cadence of a body built for war, honed over a lifetime of training.


    Most of the crowd ran in the opposite direction, and Urla found herself pressing her way against a raging torrent of frantic villagers and traders. Most of whom, Urla knew, had seen nothing of battles. She¡¯d never seen a firebomb used anywhere but the battlefield.


    Urla leapt over a toppled vendor cart, shouldered her way between a pair of shrieking Ytani traders. She longed for the comfort of her war axe in her palms. Her body responded with the focus and precision of the battlefield. Eyes noting every movement, every space to maneuver, every possible threat.


    A scream. Somewhere to her right. Different than the others.


    Urla turned.


    The attacking creature appeared in the lane ahead as though it had formed from the air itself.


    Dark wings protruded from a naked humanoid torso with a span of at least ten feet. Its skin was dark as pitch. The thing leapt into the air, fiery eyes scanning the crowd, before settling on Urla.


    It flapped hard toward her, shooting over ducking heads with remarkable speed.


    The crowd parted around her, and Urla leapt to the side, narrowly missing the slashing attack of long black talons. She rolled on the hard ground of the village lane, eyes fixed on her attacker.


    Urla had never encountered such a creature before on the battlefield. It seemed to be some sort of gruesome cross between dragyr and man. Urla sprang back to her feet. The creature landed in the middle of the street where she¡¯d stood a moment ago, and transformed in an instant back into a fully clothed man. Hair was dark brown, skin fair and smooth as ivory.


    Valucian!


    The crowd thinned around him, save for a Chardonian woman.


    Urla backed toward a toppled cart, eying a long rod that held the tattered remnants of a vendor¡¯s curtain.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Without fear, the Chardonian woman came abreast of the shapeshifting creature.


    What in the Abyss was it?


    But Urla knew who he served. Such dark magic was possible in only one heathen land.


    The man nodded to his Chardonian companion and both creatures morphed, taking on hideous dark-winged forms, faces distorting, eyes turning feral, teeth flashing long and white and menacing. They leapt into the air and shot forward.


    Urla ducked their attack, this time letting her momentum take her toward the cart. She rolled on the hard-packed dirt and seized the splinter of the curtain rod, ripping it out of looped fastenings, and whipped it around to face her attackers.


    The first creature soared out of reach, selling her feint. Urla ducked the other¡¯s swooping attack and drove straight up with her splintered weapon.


    The rod did not pierce easily. Urla thrust with all her strength, forcing the dull wood thick leathery skin. The rod wrenched from her grasp with a sick squelching sound, and the creature tumbled onto the ground.


    Urla raced over, seizing the rod. The creature morphed back into the form of the Chardonian woman. Sheer black hair and sandy skin. Face trembling with fury and frailty. Urla drove the rod deeper into her chest, timber scraping against bone as it slid deeper between her ribs. The woman¡¯s eyes and mouth gaped, blood seeping from all orifices.


    The impact of the second monster ripped Urla away from the kill, talons tearing into her shoulder, sending her reeling.


    Urla fell back on to the road. Her skull crunched against something hard. Wooden. The cart!


    She shook her head to ward off the swirl of haze filling her vision. The creature pinned her to the ground, talons boring into her chest.


    But she might not have worn weapons, but she¡¯d had the sense to wear a leathern chest piece beneath her gown, at least.


    Urla¡¯s fingers searched the ground, latched on to something hard, and she whipped it around. The piece of pottery shattered over the creature¡¯s skull. Its head jerked back, but it did not let go, talons digging through her armor, piercing her chest. Its face was hideous up close, mouth blood red, though its breath was strangely sweet.


    Talons gripped Urla around the throat.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the boy?¡± it asked, voice thick and gravelly.


    ¡°Wh-wh¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your son!¡± it snarled.


    ¡°If I knew, I¡¯d never¡ªah!¡±


    The creature¡¯s talons slashed across her face. It shoved her head hard against the ground, waves of pain shooting down her spine. Urla cursed herself for getting pinned.


    The creature traced one talon up her cheek and pressed into the soft tissue beneath her eye. She shrieked.


    ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°Do your worst, you bast¡ªah!¡±


    The pain was unlike anything Urla had felt in her life. Her vision went dark.


    Blood gushed over her face with a horrific squelch. Pain leeched through the cracks in her skull. She thrashed with arms and legs, but the creature was stronger than any warrior she¡¯d faced on the battlefield. Supernaturally strong.


    ¡°Tell me where¡ª¡±


    Its voice cut off with a croaking howl of pain. Talons ripped out of Urla¡¯s body, and the creature¡¯s weight was gone.


    Urla flailed around, vision dark on one side, a blur on the other. There was another shriek of pain. The scrape of weapon on bone that Urla knew all too well. Her fingers grasped another piece of pottery. She leapt to her feet, ignoring the blazing pain, but feel instantly. Her mind dizzy with pain.


    She scrambled up, forced herself to her knees, and brandished the pottery.


    ¡°I¡¯m no threat, Lady Captain.¡±


    Urla recognized that calm voice. All other sounds were distant. Screams. Flames. Mayhem.


    She wiped blood from her face, and her vision focused some. The elder Faltari shaman.


    He¡¯d saved her life, she realized dimly. Her mind whirled. Pain lanced through her skull like a thousand needles pressing from all sides. She slumped back, and the pottery slipped from her grasp and shattered on the ground.


    ¡°The creatures¡­¡± she murmured. Her voice was a gurgle. Blood in her mouth. She spat, and it dribbled down the side of her face.


    ¡°Both dead,¡± the man said, kneeling beside her in the darkness.


    ¡°My eyes,¡± she murmured.


    Warmth swept over Urla¡¯s body. She¡¯d felt the touch of a healer before, but this was far more powerful than any Peroian arcanist. Pain dulled in her thighs and torso. And then, her face. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, but she could see more clearly again, on the one side. The glow of flames filled the smoky skies above. To her right, the body of the female creature, back in her Chardonian human form.


    The shaman stood before her, but she could not see him entirely until she turned her head.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky. The beast would¡¯ve taken the entire eye next, I expect. You believe you¡¯ll see fine once the swelling goes down. This will have to do for now.¡±


    Urla did not let her mind dwell on it. The man had done incredible work in moments. She shook her head, temples throbbing.


    ¡°We must go,¡± Joren said. ¡°Where¡¯s the consul general?¡±


    ¡°Campos returned to the ship for the night.¡± Urla eased up to a sitting position with the shaman¡¯s help, then got to her feet. She forced herself to focus, pushing back against the pangs that wracked her body, despite the shaman¡¯s healing.


    Joren pulled the length of a bonespear from the male creature¡¯s chest and drew a short axe from his belt, and handed it to her.


    Clarity swept over her at the hilt of a weapon in her fingers.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± said the shaman.


    Urla grabbed the man¡¯s wrist. ¡°They¡¯re not just here for the eggs. They wanted my son.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re after riders too.¡±

 27 - Hunted

    Screams echoed up from the village, but the trees were too thick for Malik to see anything beyond the plumes of flame and smoke.


    ¡°Who¡¯s here?¡± Malik demanded.


    Riese held the Attican girl¡¯s cane-blade to her throat.


    Ava remained curled up on the ground, but she did not flinch at the threat of the blade.


    ¡°Change,¡± she said.


    ¡°Quit playing bloody games.¡±


    Ava¡¯s green eyes flashed. ¡°Don¡¯t you speak to me of games, shaman. You have been playing games with the empire for years, while nations fall and cities burn, and while my people pay the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Pah!¡± said Riese scathingly. ¡°You¡¯re a damn Attican noble. What have you got to complain about?¡±


    ¡°I am Valucian. A daughter of Flame and the Stone Spirits, no matter who the Atticans forced us to pay service to. No matter what they forced us to lie and forsake. We have remained. You¡¯ve no idea what I¡¯ve suffered. No idea how many thousands have suffered because of what your people provide the Attican empire. Now, you have a choice to make.¡±


    Ava glanced up at the sky, grimacing at the movement. Riese did not take her eyes away from the girl, but Malik dared a glance at the dark heavens.


    The moon emerged from behind a dark shadow. It had not been a cloud at all. Strange glowing lights filled the sky above, like golden stars in strange patterns. Drifting across the sky.


    They formed a massive familiar shape in the sky. And they drifted overhead toward the harbor.


    Malik gasped, struck by what Campos had discussed with his father about the Attican war.


    Those lights belonged to one of the Elyan runeships, like the one that had fought in the battle at Siga, that Campos had described. Winged shadows darted from the sides of the floating vessel, flapping hard toward the flames and the screams.


    Riese lowered the cane, but she kept her gaze fixed on Ava.


    ¡°Do you know what my people could do with dragons again?¡± Ava asked, slowly easing herself to her knees and then her feet. ¡°With a Flying Armada and Rebelmounts and the wrath of the Stone Spirits? We could rule our own lands again. Just like you do here. You could be part of it, Riese.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°The empire is not the only way to be Dragonmount. I know why you hesitated to accept your egg. You question fighting for the empire. I know you do.¡±


    ¡°Riese, we need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°And you, shaman,¡± said Ava softly. He could feel the warmth of hish, her magic brushing up against his own spirit. ¡°I may not be well-trained in magic, but I know minds. I sensed the turmoil in your own over the truth of those eggs. The truth of what role your people have played in the state of the world.¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± said Malik.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I led you out here. You don¡¯t have to¡ª¡±


    Ava¡¯s words were cut off. Riese swung the cane around for a second time. The ebony wood cracked against the girl¡¯s head. Ava crumpled to the ground again, and went still.


    Malik gaped at his friend.


    Riese shrugged. ¡°Our island is under attack. We don¡¯t have time for some self-righteous speech from a gods-damned mind witch. You deal with the general. I¡¯ll deal with her.¡±


    Malik glanced over at the manservant impaled upon the tree. Only now did Malik realize his hands were shaking. The reality of what they¡¯d done finally ringing true in his spirit. He and Riese both, attacking the man with magic in an instinctive burst. Using magic to kill, it went against everything he¡¯d been taught.


    ¡°That bastard murdered an innocent girl,¡±Riese said. ¡°He deserved it.¡±


    Was that true? Malik had no idea what to believe.


    He glanced down at Iriana Thenius¡¯s body, head drawn back at an impossible angle. Dead the instant Campos¡¯s servant released his hold.


    Malik didn¡¯t know whether the dead girl had been good or evil. He had no idea about the outside world. About Attica or Valucia or the Elyans across the seas. But he knew he ought to heal when he was able.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Malik knelt beside General Campos. The tall man was unconscious. But Malik had managed a healing spell, while Ava had been distracted, which had at least staunched the bleeding. Malik¡¯s knees drenched, and he shuddered, realizing how much blood the general had spilled on the ground around him.


    Focusing his senses, Malik drew hish into his spirit, and channeled that mighty energy into Campos¡¯s spirit.


    Two souls¡ªeven though one was unconscious¡ªcould manage a stronger healing. The skin of the general¡¯s throat began to close over, threads of magic weaving with tissue like strands of cloth, as Malik aided Campos¡¯s body in the natural force of healing that was always there.


    Riese lifted Ava over her shoulder as though she were a stag from a successful hunt. She set the girl down behind the four pillars of the clan shrines, beyond his vision.


    By the time Riese returned, Malik had done what he could for the general. Campos¡¯s chest lifted with weak intakes of breath.


    ¡°Will he live?¡± Riese asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Should he?¡±


    Malik sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. What about the girl?¡±


    ¡°Not going anywhere anytime soon.¡± Riese took up the general¡¯s satchel with the eggs safely inside. ¡°They¡¯re here for these. We should hide them over¡ª¡±


    Riese was about to move back toward the pillars, when a voice came from behind them.


    ¡°What in the Abyss happened here?¡±


    They turned to find an Attican boy gaping at Campos¡¯s bloody form in horror.


    ***


    Urla and Joren encountered only one more shapeshifter, which they dispatched easily enough, working together. Urla was impressed with the shaman¡¯s skill with a spear. He struck with the precision of a trained lancer. If anyone ought to have been given pause at the gruesome demands of combat, she would have guessed it would be a shaman from a remote and peaceful island. But when the shapeshifter morphed back to its human form, Joren did not hesitate.


    He launched his spear masterfully, impaling the man through the chest. A better shot than many Attican warriors might have managed.


    Joren wrenched the bonespear from the creature¡¯s chest, and they continued on, down one last lane, and through the gates to the wide village square at the edge of the waterfront.


    Urla¡¯s heart shuddered at the sight of the Attican vessel. Flames lashed at the skies from each mast, tattered bits of sail floating down to the water like fiery bits of parchment.


    The deck was already half-submerged in the harbor, and though Urla was no naval officer, she knew it was doomed.


    Shadows streaked overhead, and the looming form of the mysterious runeship drifted out over the edge of the village behind them. Only now, in the openness of the square did Urla realize there were flames filling the skies on the other end of the village too.


    Unintelligible shouts filled the night. Echoing across the island from the skies, from the longboats out in the harbor where Attican guards were desperately trying to save their ship with buckets drawn from the sea.


    Urla scanned the square, searching for signs of Ruan or the general. Traders frantically loaded goods onto longboats. Many had abandoned their goods entirely and were making for their ships to flee before the enemy came for their vessel next.


    The enemy. Who is it?


    Joren gazed back at the flames and shook his head. ¡°Decoys,¡± he muttered.


    Urla nodded. ¡°We know what they seek.¡±


    She spotted Captain Rykus near the edge of the square. Lady Thenius was in hysterics, beside him, standing over a body on the ground. The Knight of Caaadron stood a short distance away, eyes on the skies, her glowing godblade in her hands.


    Urla and Joren hurried to them. Relief swept over her as she realized the body did not belong to her son, but to Marcus Tindarius, the boy from Skymount.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Urla demanded.


    Rykus answered, his voice like ice. ¡°Half a dozen of those monstrosities bore down on us at once. We all would be dead if not for the Lady Knight.¡±


    The woman wore no armor, and she was drenched, head to foot. She nodded only momentarily at Urla, before returning her gaze to the skies.


    ¡°Where are the others?¡± Urla demanded.


    Without removing her gaze from the skies, the Lady Knight gestured toward a small path at the edge of the woods. ¡°Campos took the Rykus girl up there before the attack, along with the younger shaman and Faltari girl.¡±


    The shaman cursed softly.


    ¡°The Thenius girl was meant to meet them there,¡± the Lady Knight finished.


    ¡°And my son?¡± Urla demanded, unable to mask the desperation in her voice. ¡°Where is Ruan?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve not seen your son since the attack.¡±


    Urla¡¯s heart wrenched in her chest. Images flashed. Her son sinking beneath the surface of the flaming sea on the ship. Or snatched up into the heavens by one of those venomous creatures.


    Prayers came unbidden to the All Mother. Please, please, not my son as well.


    Joren placed a hand on her shoulder, warmth coursing from his spirit, calming her mind.


    ¡°They¡¯re searching for the riders,¡± the shaman said. ¡°We must find them first.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t want to draw all these creatures to them with us,¡± said the Lady Knight.


    Two winged monsters emerged from the clouds above, and soared over the harbor, banking over the flaming Attican ship, scanning the harbor.


    Urla¡¯s fingers closed tight around the handle of the axe the shaman had given her. ¡°What are those things?¡± she whispered. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like them.¡±


    ¡°Whatever they are, they¡¯re well-trained,¡± said the Lady Knight. ¡°Look at their formation.¡±


    Two more creatures joined then, circling the water. All four flew as one mechanism. Banking on dark wings, flapping in unison, as though they shared one mind.


    ¡°They bleed like any other creature,¡± said Urla.


    ¡°Yes, and they¡¯ll happily sacrifice their blood to get what they¡¯ve come for,¡± said the Knight. ¡°They¡¯ve been watching us ever since they killed Marcus.¡±


    ¡°We have to find Iriana,¡± Lady Thenius whimpered. ¡°We have to go. Now.¡± She began to move toward the forest path, but Rykus held her back.


    ¡°What if we go one by one?¡± Rykus asked.


    ¡°No,¡± said Urla. ¡°We must all go at once. Split in separate directions.¡±


    ¡°And who will go the right way?¡± Thenius demanded. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what¡¯s happened to my son,¡± Urla said. ¡°The Knight should go.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°I am best suited to fighting them here in the open.¡±


    ¡°The shaman,¡± said Urla.

 28 - Son of Attica

    Ruan Pelasius stood at the edge of the clearing. He¡¯d come from the track in the woods that they¡¯d taken to get to the shrines. Malik recognized him from the first arrival of the Attican party. The shield maiden¡¯s son.


    Screams of terror echoed up from the harbor. The Attican boy¡¯s eyes were wide with fear, rage, confusion. His spirit was a maelstrom.


    Who was ally? Who was foe? Where was the girl he loved? All of it swirled in Malik¡¯s mind.


    Malik extended his hands before him, as he rose from Campos¡¯s unconscious form. ¡°I¡¯ve done what I can for your general, but he needs proper care.¡±


    Ruan took in the gruesome scene. Campos lying in a pool of blood. Baro, in the tree. The dead Attican girl, neck snapped.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Ruan asked, voice tremulous. An unnerving sound coming from someone so tall and powerful.


    ¡°Campos¡¯s servant,¡± Malik said, pointing to the man impaled on the tree. ¡°He was a traitor. And I¡­ I made him pay for it.¡±


    ¡°Y-you did this?¡± Ruan¡¯s eyes narrowed at Malik.


    He did not look away. He would not be shamed for it, anymore than he would for killing a jackal threatening one of his kin. Malik nodded.


    ¡°Baro killed Iriana,¡± said Riese. ¡°Just before the explosion. He came up behind her and just¡­ snapped her neck like it was a twig. Malik did what he had to do. And if he¡¯d hesitated for even a moment, your general would be dead.¡±


    ¡°Why was Iriana out here?¡± Ruan asked. ¡°Why were any of you?¡±


    Malik sensed fear and jealousy in the boy¡¯s spirit, and thought it best not to aggravate it. ¡°She was hiding in the woods up here. Or following us.¡±


    ¡°She was after the eggs.¡± Ruan¡¯s eyes traveled to the satchel in Riese¡¯s arms. ¡°And Ava¡­ was she¡­¡±


    Maliki did not know what the boy had seen. Did he know that Ava had been with them? He had noted the way Ruan looked to Ava earlier that day. The boy¡¯s spirit wavered like a flame in the wind, though his face held a practiced lack of expression.


    ¡°She was here¡­¡± Malik said. ¡°She did this to Campos.¡±


    Ruan¡¯s face tensed. ¡°That¡¯s not possible. She would never¡­¡±


    But Malik sensed the boy knew it was very much possible.


    Riese picked up the dark cane from the ground, and extended the handle to him. The concealed blade still jutted out from the tip.


    Ruan drew in a long breath, taking the cane and inspecting the weapon.


    ¡°She fled,¡± Malik said. ¡°Ava is gone. We don¡¯t know where.¡±


    Ruan hesitated, glancing around, taking in the bloody carnage. ¡°You just let her go?¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°It was either chase her down or try to save your general,¡± Riese insisted.


    ¡°He¡¯s lost a lot of blood,¡± said Malik. ¡°We need to get him back to your ship.¡±


    The lies came so easily, Malik and Riese both playing off one another, making it up as they went along, subtly bending the truth of what happened to their own end, like children weaving lies about where they¡¯d gone during a festival.


    Ruan turned and stared back toward the harbor. ¡°Our ship is¡­ gone.¡±


    Shadows shot overhead. Malik was grateful that they had no torches to give away their location. Surely, Riese held exactly what the attackers wanted.


    ¡°We have to go,¡± said Malik. He and Riese each took one of the general¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Take his legs.¡±


    Ruan snapped back to reality, and did as he was told.


    They inched their way down the track. It was slow going. Campos was a large soldier, and with the man unconscious, it was utterly dead weight. Ruan led the way, facing forward, holding one of the general¡¯s legs cradled in each hand.


    The chaos in the village grew louder as they neared the harbor. Shouts. Screams. Strange wild screeches. The splinter of rending timber. The roar of flames.


    Malik braced himself, longing for his bonespear. Anticipating an attack from above any moment. Expecting Ruan to change his mind, see through the lies, and lunge at him with Ava¡¯s secret weapon.


    They pressed on. Riese kept the eggs safely slung over her shoulders.


    Ruan gripped the cane-blade with terrifying determination. Anger and pain raged in his spirit, though he said nothing. There had been traitors in his own midst. Lies and deceit always led to pain.


    Malik knew that well enough.


    The enormous shadows of the runeship loomed in the night skies above the tree tops.


    They reached the bottom of the hillside, leading down to the village. One more smaller knoll lay between them and the harbor. Flames illuminated the sky ahead in a fearsome glow, and the forest was cast in long, menacing shadows.


    Ruan stopped at the bottom of the hill, and gazed up the path.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Riese demanded.


    Ruan dropped the general¡¯s legs and held the cane-blade in front of him like a sword. A man appeared at the top of the hill and barreled toward them, clutching a bonespear in front of him.


    Malik knew the resonance anywhere.


    ¡°Ruan, that¡¯s my¡ª¡±


    Joren waved his arms frantically as he neared. ¡°Get down! All of you!¡±


    A pair of shadows streaked overhead, diving through the trees with a craack!


    Malik grabbed Riese¡¯s hand and jerked her to the ground, as a hideous black creature lashed out with long talons. Riese cried out in pain, but the creature lurched back into the sky.


    ¡°Help!¡± Ruan cried.


    Malik jumped back up to find the second creature on top of the Attican boy. A spear jutted up through its chest and out its back.


    It had fallen right on top of Ruan. In an instant, the monstrous black wings drew back into human flesh.


    The creature lurched with one last breath, and Malik¡¯s father drove the cane-blade into the human man¡¯s eye. The creature went still.


    ¡°H-holy shit!¡± Riese said, chest heaving. ¡°Shaman, how did you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Get this thing off me!¡± Ruan muttered through stifled breaths.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Malik said, unable to believe what his peace-loving father had just done. Blood gushed from the Chardonian man¡¯s wounds. Brown face streaked with crimson.


    ¡°Help me, son,¡± Joren said, patting Malik on the shoulder, jolting him back to the present.


    Together, the three of them heaved the corpse off of Ruan, and the boy sat up, gasping for breath as though he¡¯d just emerged from the depths of the sea.


    Joren scanned the woods behind them, then, back to the skies. ¡°We have to get the general out of here. Ruan and Riese, you too.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± said Riese.


    Joren nodded. ¡°You are Dragonmount now, it seems, and these rebels seek you and what you carry on your shoulders.¡±


    Joren leveled a fierce gaze on Malik.


    ¡°I¡­I¡¯m sorry, Father.... I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Apologies are nothing but wind. You brought this fate to her, son. Now, you must live according to the bloody path you chose.¡±


    Joren pulled the bonespear from the Chardonian man¡¯s chest with a squelch of flesh and handed it to Malik. His father took the cane-blade for himself.


    ¡°The Knight of Caadron,¡± said Joren, ¡°she is your way off this island. Riese, Ruan, you two must carry the general. My son and I will fight these beasts off as best we can. There will be more as soon as we reach the square. Now, come!¡±

 29 - Godblade

    Urla had never fought alongside a Knight of Caadron before¡ªthere were only seven in all the empire¡ªbut it was more remarkable than anything she had ever beheld.


    The glowing godblade was sharper than any forged steel, its shimmering edge shearing clean through wing and bone, even the shapeshifters¡¯ weapons themselves. The Lady Knight¡¯s movements were fluid as a river, lithe as one of the emperor¡¯s ceremonial dancers. Forms perfectly executed.


    The first wave of attacks were strung out. Two or three creatures soared after each Attican as they made their diversion for the shaman.


    Urla took on one beast, managing a blow to the creature¡¯s shoulder, which sent it careening down the dock. It morphed back into its human form, and charged her with a saber, injured arm loose at its side. Urla bought the severity of the injury a moment too long, narrowly missing a fatal error when the shapeshifter slashed with a stealth blade protruding from the guard on his injured hand.


    She staggered back, parrying a saber blow with the end of a spear she¡¯d retrieved from a fallen creature. The greater reach of her weapon won out in the end.


    When Urla looked up from her kill, two more creatures were slain, and the Lady Knight was braced for more diving from the deck of the runeship overhead.


    ¡°Two more coming our way,¡± the knight shouted.


    Urla spun around, whipping the lance in her hands and thrust the end up, then slashed it hard, shredding the webbed skin of the next creature¡¯s wing. An Attican guard leapt in to finish it off with a length of lumber.


    The knight needed no help. She barked orders to ready a long boat, though their ship was sinking in flames and most of the other ships were already fleeing the harbor. The Attican guards did not question her.


    Hopefully the ruse will draw enough attention if it appears we are defending the boats.


    Another trio of beasts descended on them, bony wings jutting out at a span of a dozen feet. They rushed from the harbor, wings roaring as they flapped and dove. Urla shifted her grip on the spear and braced for impact.


    At the last moment, the creatures shifted.


    All three shot past the docks and soared over the square.


    Urla spun, chest convulsed.


    The shaman and his son emerged from the forest path, brandishing weapons. Ruan and a Faltari girl followed, carrying the limp form of General Campos.


    Cries echoed across the water. Urla sprinted away from the docks.


    ***


    Malik thrust out with the bonespear, but the hideous creature shifted at the last moment, and before Malik realized what was happening, his weapon wrenched from his grasp. His body lurched from the ground. Pain lanced through his shoulder.


    The world hurtled end over end.


    Ships, the village walls, flames, all swirled in his vision.


    More pain.


    The world went black.


    ***


    Joren¡¯s spirit raged.


    Riese dropped Campos¡¯s legs and let loose a terrifying surge of hish that sent the next beast off course.


    Joren slashed with the cane weapon, splitting the creature¡¯s neck with a razorsharp blade jutting out of the end.


    Runemarked Kirithian steel. He¡¯d never wielded such a blade from so strange a weapon before, but it was no less effective.


    Joren spun to find the boy Ruan lifting into the air, talons plunged through his shoulders.


    Riese shrieked, focusing another surge of magic.


    Joren reached for the same spiritual threads, and pushed with all the strength in his spirit.


    The shapeshifter lost its grip on the boy, and Ruan dropped


    Joren reached out with hish to slow his fall, but another creature flashed in his vision. Reaching for Riese in the same instant. Joren sent the creature shooting past her, tumbling across the square.


    He turned. Ruan had fallen twenty feet or more. He did not move.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Riese gasped for breath beside Joren, as though she¡¯d just hefted the trunk of a tree. His own strength was also fading. It had been a decade or more since he¡¯d drawn so much power in so short a span. Even longer since he¡¯d seen such combat.


    He could not afford to draw much more hish, and Riese could not manage another magic attack. Riese dropped to her knees, the satchel of eggs still on her shoulders.


    Joren spun. His spirit searched for his son¡¯s resonance, and relief swept over him, though he could not see where Malik had landed in the trees.


    One creature was dead.


    The other two regrouped over the trees, both unharmed.


    Joren focused his vision on the beasts as they banked back toward him.


    ***


    Urla watched helpless, halfway across the square, as her son crumpled on the hard-packed ground.


    The creatures arced in the air for another attack.


    In the corner of her vision, Captain Rykus sprinted from the village gates, a bonespear in hand, joined by one of his personal guard. A young woman with stark black hair.


    But he also could never make it in time.


    The Faltari girl struggled to her feet, hands searching for something she could use for a weapon. Her movements were slow and languid.


    Urla sprinted as fast as she could as the second wave of creatures descended.


    The shaman brandished the splintered remains of a crude weapon.


    The shapeshifters dove at the shaman.


    And Urla let her spear fly.


    ***


    Malik¡¯s vision swam. His back shuddered in waves of pain, temples throbbing as he pulled himself to his feet. A hand helped steady him.


    ¡°Now, we¡¯re even, shaman.¡±


    ¡°Ulgar?¡±


    The large boy knelt beside him in the woods, at the edge of the square. ¡°What in the Abyss is going¡ª¡±


    Malik seized his wrist. ¡°My father! Hurry!¡±


    Ulgar braced him with his shoulder, and together, they hurried through the foliage and back into the square.


    The waterfront was a raging swirl of violent hues. Screams of fear and death.


    Malik and Ulgar staggered forward. Ulgar held a bonespear, but Malik¡¯s weapon had been lost in the attack that had landed him in the woods.


    Dark wings flashed over his head, spinning. One of the shapeshifters hit the ground, tumbling, then, went still, a lance protruding from its chest.


    Ulgar leapt in as the creature struggled to its feet, driving the point through the beast¡¯s neck.


    Blood spurted, and the monster transformed into its human form.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath!¡± Ulgar roared, jerking his weapon free.


    Magic surged through Malik¡¯s body. And one of his father¡¯s shamanic mantras came to him.


    Without the mind, the body fades.


    Malik focused all the hish his spirit could muster, channeling the healing energy into his mind.


    The world slowed, sharpened, blurs coming into focus.


    Twenty yards ahead, his father leapt into the air, meeting one of the creatures in an incredible twisting aerial attack. For an instance, his father looked to be flying. The creature wasn¡¯t ready for the attack either. It attempted to shift midair, but Joren¡¯s weapon drove into its side, sending them both reeling.


    One more monster descended, straight at Riese.


    Malik leapt into action, movements guided by pure will. He sprinted past Ulgar and reached the creature he¡¯d finished off.


    He jerked the spear free and sent it flying with a surge of hish.


    The beast collided with Riese, both of them tumbling on the ground.


    A dark-haired woman reached the spot ahead of them both and attempted to shove the creature off Riese as it shifted back to its original form in death.


    Malik and Ulgar sprinted the remaining distance.


    The glowing mass of the runeship blotted out the moon. A horn blared, but no more creatures appeared.


    His father reached the spot first and tried to help the dark-haired woman pry the body off of Riese.


    Beyond them, Urla knelt by her son¡¯s unmoving form.


    An Attican man hurried to help Joren and the girl. They shoved the beast, now back in human form, and pulled Riese free.


    The Attican man pulled the bonespear from the creature¡¯s chest, turned, and horror filled Malik¡¯s gut as he realized who the man was.


    Malik shouted. ¡°Father, no, he¡¯s a¡ª¡±


    But it was too late.


    Captain Rykus whipped the butt end of the bonespear around, clubbing his father over the back of the head.


    Joren slumped over.


    The dark-haired woman transformed into one of the winged creatures. And Rykus and the dark-haired woman picked up an unconscious Riese and, beyond all possibility, shot straight into the sky with a surge of magic, taking Riese, and all three dragon eggs with him.


    Rykus and the creature disappeared over the deck of the runeship as it lifted higher.


    ¡°Holy shit!¡± Ulgar said. ¡°He just flew with no bloody wings!¡±


    Malik crossed the remaining distance and knelt at his father¡¯s side, the warmth of his resonance blessedly still radiating from Joren¡¯s spirit.


    He looked up as the ship disappeared into the thickening clouds.


    Holding his father¡¯s head, Malik screamed an incoherent torrent of curses.


    The eggs were gone.


    Riese was gone.


    Malik had failed.


    The Lady Knight reached them, magic blade glowing. She swung the sword in an arc that cut straight through the fabric of the world.


    A window seemed to open in the air itself, showing something beyond the village behind it. Malik could see through the hazy opening to an immaculate hall, painted pillars and tapestries and oil lamps flickering. Red-cloaked Attican guards in runemarked armor rushed down a staircase across a vast hall.


    Urla Pelasius thundered past Malik, and leapt through the sorcerous window, bearing Ruan¡¯s unconscious form in her arms.


    Ulgar pulled Malik to his feet, yelling in his ear, voice tremulous.


    ¡°Shaman!¡± Ulgar pointed to the knight.


    The dark-skinned woman met his gaze, filled with pain and urgency. ¡°The general!¡±


    Malik nodded, and together, he and Ulgar hefted the man between them, body even more heavy than before. They inched the man through the portal, laying Campos¡¯s body on a pristine tile floor beside Ruan and his mother.


    White-robed servants came rushing to help. Soldiers shot past, weapons flashing in the light. More Atticans poured through the portal.


    And Malik felt as though everything were happening in the haze of a dream.


    ¡°Shaman, back through! I can¡¯t hold it much longer.¡±


    The Lady Knight¡¯s voice was strained. She held her shining godblade out above her head, one foot in this immaculate place, one back in the square in Faltara.


    In the corner of his eye, Malik spotted a man in elegant black robes, descending a staircase.


    No, its a throne.


    The golden seat was shrouded in dark stone dragon wings that cast an enormous shadow across the entire hall. He was flanked by a retinue of guards.


    Ulgar gaped. ¡°Is that the Dragon¡ª¡±


    Malik grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to their own world.


    A surge of magic pulsed behind them.


    When Malik turned back, the portal was gone.

 30 - Rebel Bastards

    The imperial healers assured Urla that both Ruan and Campos would live, and that she should rest, but she would be damned if she let anyone else tend to her son. She¡¯d already lost Keivan, his dragon, and now, her son¡¯s best chance at becoming Dragonmount.


    Rykus would pay for what he¡¯d done. Through the night, she turned things over in her mind, trying to understand what was happening in her world. First, the runeship in Siga. Now, another at the edge of the world, manned by shapeshifting monstrosities, whose human forms were either Valucian or Chardonian.


    The former, a fraught kingdom who¡¯d seemingly bent the knee, the other, long seen as the next battleground for Attica.


    And another Elyan runeship¡­


    All her youth, Urla had heard tales of the heathen threat from across the sea, how Elya was growing in power, how they might one day meddle in affairs in the continent of Erith¨¨a. These rumors may have lessened beyond her childhood, as Attica regained prominence in their own corner of the world, but always the rumors of Elya lingered¡ªtheir heathen politics and reckless use of magic, their conquest in the eastern world, their lust for power.


    How did a Valucian blood-traitor and his daughter fit into all this?


    Valucia had been grafted back into the empire years ago, and Rykus himself had played a pivotal part in the peaceful transfer of power. Betrayed his own kin to aid Good Emperor Vitruvian, and had become a minor Attican lord as reward. Rykus¡¯s company had fought alongside Urla¡¯s own in the Sigan conquest.


    Through it all, it seemed, he had been biding his time.


    The eggs were gone, along with the Faltari girl. And they¡¯d tried to take Ruan with them.


    If not for the shaman¡­


    Across the imperial bedchamber, Campos lay unconscious, while the emperor¡¯s own healers changed bandages at his throat, applied healing salves and tried to get him to down a tincture.


    Ruan¡¯s head and neck were covered in bruises, a mottled purple and grey tapestry, hints of yellowing flesh beginning to seep in, which worried Urla all the more.


    The healers claimed it looked worse than it actually was, but Urla knew they were only guessing. They could not see inside her son¡¯s body with true clarity, even with their runemarked instruments. It was all gods-damned guessing and hoping. And Ruan still hadn¡¯t moved, still hadn¡¯t stirred once, except the steady rhythm of his breathing.


    Hauntingly peaceful coming from such a damaged face.


    It had all happened so fast. Had Ruan landed on his head? Broken something in his neck?


    Her mind¡¯s eye filled with memories of her own days at Dawncrest during her Sea trials.


    She was seventeen, and they were performing an exercise that involved traversing between two ships in games mimicking maritime combat. They swung on ropes from deck to deck. Traversed across moving oars, deflecting blows from instructors. A boy ahead of her on the course lost his footing and slipped between oars into the water.


    So sudden. No sharp crack or sickening thud.


    Their teachers pulled him from the water in only a few seconds. But the boy didn¡¯t wake for three days. When he did, he couldn¡¯t move. Couldn¡¯t even speak.


    After months of attempted healings and medicines, the boy¡¯s parents had done the only thing an honorable Attican family could do.


    Urla gripped her son¡¯s hand and shuddered at the thought of being forced to make such a decision.


    Ruan¡¯s face was peaceful, bits of stubble darkening his upper lip. He looked so much like Keivan when they¡¯d first met. Strong chiseled jaw. Slight curl to his dark hair. His chest rose and fell. Eyelids shifted, but never opened.


    He¡¯s just sleeping, Urla thought.


    How much longer could she tell herself that?


    Across the room, Campos¡¯s breathing came in fits and waves. When they arrived, the general had thrashed in pain, and the healers had given him a tincture that knocked him out cold while they mended the skin of his neck with needle and thread, then, used a runemarked instrument to repair what the young shaman had neglected beneath the skin in the haste and demands of the moment.


    Thank the Mother for the shamans, Urla thought, willing herself to be hopeful. Grateful both her son and her mentor were alive yet.


    ¡°Gods damn those rebel bastards.¡±


    Urla jolted at the voice.


    She turned from her son to find the Lady Knight Vera Salyr striding across the regal bed chamber toward her.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    If the emperor were an older man, this room would belong to one of his own children, Urla thought.


    Ruan and Campos were being tended by the emperor¡¯s personal healers. Surely, that was a blessing. She could practically hear her own mother reminding her of this. And yet, Marha the Mother had not spared her either.


    The Lady Knight stopped and watched Campos for several moments. His face distorted with pain, even in sleep.


    ¡°Has he¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s drugged,¡± said Urla. ¡°Woke in much pain during the surgery. But the healers say he¡¯s got a fighting chance.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all the general would ask for,¡± said the knight.


    Urla nodded, a slight smile at the edge of her lips. She¡¯d not seen the woman before this damned excursion, but it was clear the knight knew Campos well. Perhaps another of his apprentices.


    The knight crossed the room and stood beside her.


    ¡°Your son lives,¡± the knight said. ¡°The Mother watches over you.¡±


    Urla had nothing to say. Everyone said such things, until hope faded, then they said things like, ¡°The Father must¡¯ve needed more good warriors.¡±


    Such sayings were wind.


    ¡°What¡¯s happened back on the island?¡± Urla asked after a silence.


    ¡°We found the Thenius girl near the Faltari shrines, as the young shaman, Malik, described. As well as the general¡¯s traitor servant. No sign of Ava Rykus.¡±


    ¡°Her father flew,¡± Urla said.


    ¡°Without wings,¡± the knight finished. ¡°Unlike the rest of those morphing beasts. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it, but it¡¯s Elyan witchery, no doubt about that. And if Rykus has dabbled in dark magic from across the sea, why not the daughter. Ava was hiding magic ability, the shaman says.¡±


    ¡°What happened to her?¡±


    ¡°According to Malik, Ava fled into the woods, and he and the Faltari girl let her go, so they could help the general. Ava was the one who tried to kill him. The servant, Baro, was responsible for Iriana Thenius.¡±


    Urla squeezed her son¡¯s hand again. ¡°Rebel bastards.¡±


    ¡°You can say¡­ that again.¡±


    ¡°General!¡± Urla and Salyr cried in unison.


    Urla was flooded with relief.


    The Lady Knight hurried back to Campos¡¯s side, helped him sit up, propping him with pillows. His neck was covered in bloodied bandages, but he could hold up his head enough to meet Urla¡¯s gaze with barely open eyes. Campos attempted to smile, grimaced and groaned, then slumped back against the pillows. His hand drifted to his throat, felt at the bandages engulfing his neck.


    ¡°Baro¡­¡± he murmured.


    ¡°Dead, sir,¡± the knight said, ¡°the work of the Faltari girl. She and that young shaman saved your life. She paid for it too. They took her.¡±


    ¡°Took¡­ Riese?¡± he asked. Each word was a struggle.


    Salyr nodded.


    ¡°Fucking¡­ Valucians,¡± said Campos. ¡°Where¡¯s¡­ the emperor? He¡­¡±


    ¡°He knows everything we know, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good¡­good¡­¡± Campos closed his eyes and sighed. His voice was barely a whisper, yet still, commanding. ¡°Right under our damn noses. If this goes beyond Rykus¡­¡±


    ¡°No Valucian is permitted in the palace for the time being,¡± the knight said. ¡°The emperor sent two Knights to Valucia to investigate the extent of this treason.¡±


    Campos head lolled on his pillow. For a moment, Urla thought he¡¯d lost consciousness. Then, he spoke. ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve gone¡­ to Skrala and back¡­ It¡¯s shit¡­. if you want to know.¡±


    Urla and Salyr smiled, then the general¡¯s face twisted in pain. He raised a hand toward his bandages, but didn¡¯t quite reach them. His hand fell to his chest. ¡°I¡¯ll be¡­ fine.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll get the healers. You probably need another tincture,¡± the knight said, rising to her feet and disappearing into the corridor beyond.


    Urla glanced from her son to Campos, fury rising up in her spirit. How she wished she could have been there with them. Rykus had made sure that didn¡¯t happen. Keeping her distracted with the other nobles.


    ¡°Lady Captain,¡± Campos said, his voice raspier.


    It pained Urla to leave her son¡¯s side, even just across the room, but she was a soldier of the legions, first and foremost, and she came to the general¡¯s bedside.


    His eyes creased open. Bloodshot and hideous.


    ¡°You should sleep, sir,¡± Urla whispered.


    His fingers clasped her own, skin cold and clammy. And weak. Campos¡¯s grip had never felt so slight.


    ¡°The island,¡± Campos murmured. ¡°The eggs.¡±


    ¡°Rykus stole them, sir. And took a potential rider, two including his daughter¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not those ones.¡± His fingers tightened around her wrist. ¡°More. Much more¡­ the bastards will be back.¡±


    ¡°They must know we¡¯ll be ready for them, sir. They wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, damn it! Listen, girl!¡±


    Suddenly, General Campos sounded like her father¡¯s best friend, the stern voice of her youth, toughening her up, preparing her for the academies and the trials and her first appointment in the legions. That no-bullshit voice that had made her what she was, after her father died.


    Urla nodded begrudgingly, the same stubborn-willed girl, no matter how many times he had put her in her place.


    ¡°Vitruvian¡­¡± Campos whispered. ¡°He feared dragons¡­ all the emperors have¡­ even Athanasius¡­ that¡¯s why there¡¯s so few¡­ but that time is done¡­ you have to tell him¡­¡±


    A shudder of fear wracked through Urla¡¯s body, a chill settling over the room, stifling her breathing like she¡¯d stepped from a warm hearth into the winter snow.


    ¡°You can tell him,¡± she said. ¡°The emperor will be here any moment. He wants your counsel more than ever, sir!¡±


    Campos¡¯s grip slackened. ¡°No... you¡ª¡±


    He coughed, and Urla froze. Blood bubbled up from between his lips, dribbled down his chin.


    ¡°Help!¡± she shouted. ¡°I need a healer!¡±


    Urla scrambled for the door, but Campos brushed her hand.


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    More blood oozed from his month. Trickles of crimson from his eyes and ears. His neck began to swell, bulging around the edges of his bandages.


    He chuckled, blood gurgling.


    ¡°Lord General!¡±


    Campos gripped her hand. His fingers trembled, and his face had settled into a strange serenity. For a moment, Urla feared he was gone.


    Then, Campos¡¯s lids shot open, and his bloodshot eyes fixed on hers.


    ¡°We all hoped for... another Golden Age... what we need is an Age of Fire. Make him see, girl! Make the emperor see!¡±


    Campos slumped back and his whole body spasmed, limbs shuddering. A long breath.


    And he went still.


    Healers poured into the room, felt Campos¡¯s pulse. Shouts. Sorcerous instruments glowing.


    But Urla knew they were too late.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said the Lady Knight, staring beside Urla in shock. ¡°He was just¡­¡± A tear streaked down her cheek.


    Urla did not cry.


    She looked from Campos to her unconscious son. All at once, the anger and sadness had drifted away. She had an order to carry out.


    Urla stood and left the room.


    Salyr called after her, and when Urla ignored her, the knight hurried after, out into the towering halls of the lower palace.


    ¡°Lady Captain!¡±


    The knight seized her wrist.


    ¡°I need an audience with the emperor,¡± said Urla. ¡°There is no time to waste.¡±

 31 - Dragonbound

    Riese Torendeil woke in darkness. Her bowels churned, as though her stomach were an angry sea, pitching and diving within her belly. The ground shifted beneath her, nearly making her lose her balance before something tightened at her wrists.


    A loud groan. Voices, somewhere nearby. The creaking of wood, and the flapping of cloth in wind.


    ¡°Wh-where¡­¡±


    Her voice croaked, throat dry as sand.


    She sensed the warm rush of hish. More than she¡¯d ever felt in any one place, except perhaps near the Spires, where the Mountain of Souls was a blazing presence.


    Magic radiated all around her. Though blindfolded, the surges of magic formed faint shapes all their own in her second sight.


    Riese was no shaman, but she could make out a line of walls, larger than a longhouse¡ªas though the gods had concentrated their breath on one space. Forming and shaping this room like village children with snow, nature paired with their own creativity to fashion something new.


    Aches shot down her spine and into stiff limbs as she struggled to sit up. Something clinked with her movements. Cold pressure again on her wrists. Something hung around her neck, heavy and steeped in magic. Though it felt different, somehow.


    Hazy images of the attack on Faltara seeped into her mind. Pillars of flame. Dark winged creatures. The Attican girl¡¯s neck cocked at an impossible angle. The twisted, dying expression of the man she killed.


    Magic is a blessing of the gods. It must never be used to harm another person.


    She could hear Joren¡¯s words resounding in her mind, as he¡¯d taught her and the other children of the Jackal clan how to access the powers behind the world as children. The same breath that made the sun rise, and the tide come. She had sworn an oath, and last night, she had broken that oath.


    That bastard killed a girl in cold blood. I had to protect Malik.


    And save yourself, another voice in her mind seemed to counter.


    Riese could not piece together where she was, why the room seemed to be shifting, why she had no memory of how she¡¯d gotten here.


    A shift of cloth. Not outside. Very near.


    Someone else was in the room.


    Instinctively, she reached for hish, and realized what was off. Despite the magic surging all around her, she could not draw it into her spirit. It passed through her like water through fingers. Fear tore through her like ice in her bones.


    ¡°No need to be frightened, Riese Torendeil,¡± a woman¡¯s voice said. Faintly familiar. ¡°Your bindings are only a precaution.¡±


    Riese remained still. Tense.


    Footsteps neared. Resounding with hollows clunk on wooden boards.


    ¡°Who are you? Where¡ª¡±


    Cold fingers brushed her temples and removed her blindfold. Slowly, her eyes adjusted. There were no torches or lamps, but hints of golden light peeked through slats in the walls. Riese was chained on a bench, though she¡¯d at least been given the courtesy of a blanket, draped over her legs.


    The walls shifted. Groaned. The whole world shuddered with a resounding boom. Violent light flashed. The room shuddered again. Cries echoed from somewhere beyond.


    ¡°We¡¯re in a storm,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the woman. Her face was shrouded in shadows.


    ¡°On the sea?¡±


    ¡°Close.¡±


    A light ignited from a device in the woman¡¯s hand. A lantern, except there was no flame. Within the glass case, a runemarked ball of metal glowed. The woman set then lantern on a hook and drew closer.


    Riese¡¯s vision settled on the tall woman standing over her, recognition dawning. Sun-specked skin. Angular jawline. Piercing dark eyes. Still wearing the crimson cloak of the Attican guard. Except¡­ her hair shone. Silver, not dark brown the way she¡¯d met her.


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    The walls groaned, shifting. The woman reached out, gripping Riese¡¯s shoulder to steady her. ¡°Deven l¨¦ Romina. Nice to properly¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me.¡±


    The woman smiled. Her silver hair hung loose to her shoulders. ¡°Very well, if you¡¯d rather heave each time this vessel shifts, that is your right.¡±


    ¡°Vessel... the runeship,¡± Riese realized aloud, picturing the shadow of it looming over the village. God¡¯s breath, so much of what she knew about the world had changed in one night.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Deven said, ¡°and we¡¯re currently at the edge of a storm. I¡¯d tell you to hang on, but¡­¡±


    Riese glared at her, and Deven stepped back, holding on to a support beam a few feet away.


    ¡°How long?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been traveling a day and a half.¡±


    ¡°Gods¡­¡±


    ¡°You were beaten up. Unconscious when I found you. We let your body heal for a night before applying the collar.¡±


    ¡°Is that why I can¡¯t draw hish?¡±


    ¡°A precautionary measure. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ served House Rykus.¡±


    Deven nodded.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t meet by accident on that hunt, then, I take it.¡±


    ¡°No indeed. Many of us were sent to infiltrate your people during the festival. To gauge whether you were a threat.¡±


    ¡°I killed one of your own.¡±


    Deven cocked a brow and smirked. ¡°Impressive. Well, we all make mistakes in times of war.¡±


    Riese¡¯s unease showed.


    ¡°You are not yet sure where you stand. I get it. Rest assured, we would not have brought you here if we did not know better.¡±


    ¡°Then, you know more than me. You¡¯re one of them. One of those¡­¡±


    ¡°Morphs?¡± asked Deven. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯re called. Metamorphi. Shapeshifters, trained in the ways of the Empyrean.¡±


    ¡°Is that silver hair real or just another guise.¡±


    ¡°Am I Elyan, you mean?¡± Deven shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve served House Rykus most of my adult life. But yes, the hair is¡ª¡±


    The world spun sideways, and Riese flopped hard on the table, bindings straining against her arms.


    Deven grinned.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say it.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re nearly out, so it should steady soon.¡±


    ¡°What do you want with me?¡±


    Deven¡¯s dark eyes peered at her, eerie in the darkness. As though the dark-winged creature were ready too emerge at any moment. ¡°That depends.¡±


    ¡°On what?¡±


    ¡°On you, of course.¡±


    Another voice, deep and gravelly. A broad-shouldered man stepped into the runelantern light. Riese had seen him at the festival. Ava¡¯s father, and Deven¡¯s lord.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re the one we must thank,¡± Captain Rykus said.


    Riese glowered at him, longing for hish.


    ¡°For the eggs, of course.¡±


    ¡°Right into the hands of murderous traitors.¡±


    Captain Rykus smiled enduringly. ¡°Traitors? That¡¯s a matter of perspective, isn¡¯t it? For years, my own people thought me a traitor, and Attica thought me a saint. Now, this view is suddenly reversed. But I¡¯m the same man I¡¯ve always been, really.¡±


    ¡°Why am I here? Why not kill me like the Attican girl?¡±


    ¡°Thenius?¡± Rykus asked. ¡°She¡¯s dead then.¡±


    ¡°The general¡¯s manservant snapped her neck like a gods-damned twig.¡±


    Rykus barely blinked. ¡°The Thenius house is as old-blood Attican as they come. If we¡¯d let her go, she¡¯d have become a Dragonmount of Attica, utterly loyal to the empire. But you, well¡­¡±


    He turned to Deven. The woman shrugged. ¡°There¡¯s potential.¡±


    Riese huffed. ¡°That so?¡±


    ¡°What does it feel like? After the bond?¡± Captain Rykus asked.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know.¡±


    ¡°A lot of loyalty to the Attican Empire, have you?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Say what you want, the Attican Empire never dropped firebombs on my village.¡±


    Rykus nodded. ¡°Carefully placed bombs.¡±


    ¡°That servant murdered a young woman. Your daughter tried to kill the Consul General.¡±


    ¡°Judging by the way he looked when we left, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if Ava succeeded in killing Campos. And yes, we attacked the Attican bastards and destroyed their ship. We dropped bombs at the edge of the village to sow enough chaos to accomplish our true mission. But our war is with Attica, not Faltara. And so, you live, Riese Dragonbound. As I trust, all your kinsmen do as well. We were given explicit instructions.¡±


    ¡°Even those monsters?¡± Riese shot a look over at Deven, who had stepped back, allowing her master to take over.


    ¡°They defended against the enemy. Bravely. We lost several of our own. Some likely by your own people¡¯s hands.I saw the way your shaman fought. But even he, we spared.¡±


    Captain Rykus shifted back, crossing his arms over his chest. ¡°The remainder of our conversation will be dictated by what follows, Riese.¡±


    ¡°What do you want with me?¡±


    ¡°For one, you are bound to one of the eggs we carry, and for my people, Dragonmount blood is a sacred and rare thing.¡±


    ¡°Unless it is Attican Dragonmount blood.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve grown up on an island at the edge of civilization. One that has been spared the hardships endured by the rest of the world, because your elders have secretly supplied the most powerful nation in the world with its source of power. You¡¯ve no idea the true histories of the world. You¡¯ve no scope of the cruelties my people have endured at the hand of the Attican Empire.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± said Riese, ¡°enlighten me, then.¡±


    Rykus studied her for a moment. ¡°Before the Golden Age of the Attican Empire. Before we were occupied and enslaved, our culture stolen. Shortly after the Crossing, Valucia was the first Flameholm in Erith¨¨a. Home of Dragons.¡±


    Riese wondered how this tale might fit with her own myths of the Crossing. The traitor who fled Faltara, taking dragons to the rest of the world.


    Did Rayne Seversein take them to Valucia?


    ¡°That was before the Curse,¡± Rykus said. ¡°Before the Atticans turned our blessing against us. Dragons soared the skies. Sea dragons swam the ocean¡¯s depths. And Valucia was a mighty kingdom. We did not seek to rule the world. Rarely did flames rain from our skies. That was over a thousand years ago, according to our histories. A thousand years since honor meant something in Erith¨¨a, and dragons brought peace instead of war. A thousand years, but we have not forgotten. And now, that same blood runs in your veins. And in my daughter¡¯s veins.¡±


    Riese tensed at the mention of the girl, wondering what had become of her after she left Ava bound and unconscious behind the shrines.


    ¡°She is Dragonbound,¡± Rykus said. ¡°Just as you are, yes?¡±


    Riese nodded.


    ¡°What happened after?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not... here?¡± Riese ventured. ¡°We lost her in the forest. I assumed she must have¡ª¡±


    Rykus shook his head. ¡°The storm is letting up now. We should be able to see it.¡±


    He crossed the room to the far wall and proceeded to open multiple small square windows. The shutters flapped open and daylight poured into the chamber.


    Deven held out a key. ¡°The collar will remain. But if you cooperate, I will release you from the table.¡±


    Riese nodded, and the woman unlocked her chains from the table. Riese shifted, so her legs dangled off the side. Her body ached, and she longed for the strength of hish.


    Deven helped her rise and they crossed to the window. Her hands remained shackled, the collar hanging heavy from her neck. Deven held tight to the chains as they neared the captain.


    Outside, Riese could make out dark clouds against a bright blue sky.


    ¡°You must make a decision, Riese Dragonbound,¡± Rykus said. ¡°But before you decide on who is enemy and who is ally, I believe you should be given the entire truth.¡±


    Rykus pointed out the window. ¡°Come see the true nature of Dragonmounts under Attican rule.¡±


    Riese stepped up and looked out fully. The view from the sky was arresting, even more than the view from the Spires.


    They soared high above an endless expanse of sea. Blue skies shone at the horizon at one side, but dark clouds plumed at the other. Pillars of darkness loomed over what looked to be a small island. The ground was fiery, black earth, flickering with red and orange.


    ¡°That is the Isle of E¨°reth, land of my house for centuries,¡± Rykus said.


    ¡°Those aren¡¯t clouds,¡± Riese realized aloud, a churning in her gut that sent her vision spinning. ¡°It¡¯s smoke.¡±


    The entire island was on fire.

 32 - Den of Wolves

    When Urla was a young girl, she never could have envisioned herself seated in the High Council chamber of the Dragon Palace with some of the greatest Attican lords. She was a high noblewoman only through marriage, privy to knowledge about origins of Attican dragons only because of her connection to Campos.


    Yet, here she was in a vast pillared chamber. The ornately painted dome rose fifty feet above a room-spanning map depicting the entire region the Crescent Sea. Emperor Athanasius sat upon a high-backed ivory chair carved in the shape of pluming dragon wings. A gargantuan skull was fixed on the wall at his back so that the jaws of an ancient dragon faced every other man and woman in the room. Like all ruling bodies in Attica, the council largely consisted of men.


    Urla was one of four women among the council of eighteen dragon lords gathered around the table. And she was the only one whose house was not currently in possession of a dragon.


    Everything was a maelstrom of activity after the news of Campos¡¯s death. Within hours, the entire council was gathered, and the emperor had insisted Urla join the meeting.


    ¡°You¡¯re about to enter a den of wolves,¡± Athanasius told her before they entered.


    ¡°But Lord, don¡¯t they know where their dragons come from?¡±


    ¡°Yes, they know about the isle at the edge of the world. They are the sacred few. And now, that traitor Rykus¡­¡±


    Urla had not mentioned the fact that this error fell on the emperor. Or at least his chosen Consul, though if he thought as much, the emperor had not voiced it to Urla.


    ¡°Lord, I am honored, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do you wish to serve Attica?¡± Athanasius asked.


    ¡°I live to serve, Lord.¡±


    ¡°Campos¡¯s estimation of you was well-founded. And that¡¯s good, because secrets are unraveling. The balance of power is tipping. And dragon lords respond to threats in one of two ways. Either they hunker down in their own towers. Or they lash out in fear, and rarely at the correct target. We are at risk of losing all we have gained these past two decades.¡±


    As the lords and ladies took their seats, the chamber filled with anxious murmurings. Urla wore ceremonial armor befitting a Lady Captain of the legions, which a servant had fetched from her husband¡¯s capital estate. She was the least decorated person present. All the others were dressed in fine silken gowns and decorated black Dragonmount uniforms.


    Emperor Athanasius was not much older than thirty summers. It was strange to Urla to think that the man who ruled the world had seen less life than she. Most of these lords and ladies had seen more years than the emperor, but Urla understood how easy it sometimes was to mistake age for wisdom. She¡¯d seen this enough times in the legions.


    When all were seated, the emperor stood.


    ¡°The Isle of E¨°reth has been brought low. Thanks to the swift action of Houses Regata and Indica, we sent our message to the other Valucian lords before Rykus could return. What follows will require action from all of us in the coming days. This is an historic moment, and we must meet it with all the gods require.¡±


    ¡°The Valucian lords are in an uproar,¡± said Tersius of House Regata.


    Regata hailed from the Isle of Theleset, a close neighbor of Valucia, though with Attican loyalties that had historically never wavered. Regata looked like he hadn¡¯t slept in two days, which was quite likely. He spoke carefully, but the trepidation was not lost on anyone in the room. ¡°There were uprisings in the streets, Lord.¡±


    ¡°Peasants,¡± said Athansius. ¡°The Valucian lords have expressed passionate loyalty to the empire.¡±


    ¡°Outwardly, yes,¡± said Rodrick Marius.


    ¡°Speak your minds,¡± Athanasius said.


    Regata hesitated. ¡°I¡­ fear we may have sent the wrong message, Lord.¡±


    ¡°Everything we have striven to create is at risk of unraveling,¡± Athanasius said. ¡°A full-blown Valucian rebellion could set us back a decade or more. A warning had to be made.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say it was received¡­¡± Regata said, shaking his head. ¡°I just pray it does not incite further unrest. Rykus was a blood-traitor. As are most of their lords. But if it was a ruse for Rykus¡­¡±


    Athanasius nodded solemnly. ¡°We share the same fear. Hence, the warning. If they want to play at rebellion, they must know the full cost. It would seem they have forgotten what a few dragons can do.¡±


    ¡°My Lord, there were hundreds lost on E¨°reth,¡± said Marius. ¡°Women, children. There are some calling it a war crime.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± the emperor demanded.


    Regata simpered. ¡°Murmurings.¡±


    ¡°It was an act of retaliation! For treason! Rykus attacked unarmed Atticans. Three lords are dead at Rykus¡¯s hands. And a noble lady just come of age.¡±


    Regata was not the only dragon lord on edge, but he was the most vocal. The three ancient Dragon Lords said little, all watching how Athanasius handled the council with an air of bemusement.


    This is a test in their eyes, Urla thought.


    Urla suspected the ancient lords would gladly sacrifice Valucia, and plenty of other lesser regions of Attica, if it led to their own return to prominence. Fifty years ago, this would have been a council of four. Not eighteen.


    Athanasius spoke again, quietly now. ¡°Valucia has been a point of contention for many centuries. And their people have suffered the consequences for the decisions of many foolish lords. For the past decade, they have prospered. Their lives are far better now. Their keeps are stronger, their cities rebuilt from war-torn shambles. But for rebels, memory is often short. Regata, your island has known the effects of both scenarios all too well.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve reaped the benefits of peace, Lord,¡± said Regata. ¡°And we have taken the brunt of the carnage in times of Valucian rebellion. They are a stubborn people, and I fear what we¡¯ve done to Rykus¡¯s kingdom, small though it may be, could rally their rebellious spirits once more.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why Ava Rykus was chosen to contend for a dragon before the lottery?¡± Athanasius asked.


    No one in the room seemed surprised by the words chosen, and Urla realized for the first time, that the lords and ladies present all fully understood the true process.


    Regata shook his head.


    Urla noted the way the ancient Dragon Lords shifted.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Valucia has a long history of dragon riders,¡± Athanasius said. ¡°Old as Attica itself. A proud history. But there has not been a Valucian Dragonmount in three hundred years. After a decade of peace, I intended to rectify that proud history, and bind Valucian loyalties even closer.¡±


    The irony of the intent was not lost on anyone in the room.


    ¡°I believe it was the right plan, but the wrong lord,¡± Athanasius said.


    ¡°You still intend to give Valucia a dragon?¡± Lord Cassian asked incredulously.


    All eyes fixed on the emperor, along with several raised brows.


    ¡°We need to show the other Valucian lords that nothing has changed,¡± said Athanasius. ¡°This is a matter of Rykus, not Valucia. Tersius, you know their lords better than any in this room. I¡¯d like you to choose the Valucian house best suited to serve on this council.¡±


    Urla barely held back a smirk at the way the man puffed up at this. ¡°I¡¯ll choose wisely, Lord.¡±


    Athanasius nodded. ¡°I have full confidence. Now, to the next matter. General Campos has long overseen the acquisition and distribution of dragons on the Isle of Faltara. Fortunately, before he died he had a successor in mind.¡±


    Urla glanced around the room. Campos¡¯s station as a non-dragon lord had been pivotal to his role. Everyone in this room possessed a dragon. Except her.


    Urla¡¯s chest tightened as the emperor¡¯s gaze fell to her. She thought she was here to inform the council about what she¡¯d seen on the island, not¡­


    ¡°M-me?¡± she stammered.


    ¡°The Lord General has spoken highly of you throughout your service,¡± Athanasius said. ¡°And as you are no longer the wife of a dragon lord, your loyalties are well-suited to the needs of the realm. And of this council.¡±


    ¡°Lord, surely there is¡­¡±


    Athanasius smiled. ¡°It has already been put to a vote.¡±


    Several of the lesser lords, and all of the female lords nodded their heads to her.


    ¡°Campos was a good man,¡± said Lord Marius. ¡°We¡¯d be fools not to select his first choice of successor.¡±


    ¡°First choice¡­¡± Urla muttered, still unable to wrap her mind around what was happening.


    ¡°We have little time to waste,¡± said the emperor. ¡°The situation on Faltara is dire.¡±


    He spoke the same words he¡¯d spoken to bring her here, when she¡¯d longed to return to her son¡¯s bedside.


    Urla was overwhelmed. Campos had been dead less than a day. Her son still lay unconscious a few rooms away. What did this mean for her son¡¯s chance at reclaiming a dragon?


    But since the day she¡¯d come of age, Urla was a soldier in the imperial legions. An officer devoted to the emperor, before any other role.


    It was unfathomable to consider refusing the recommendation of her superior officer, or her duty to the empire.


    She stood and bowed to Athanasius, a churning mix of emotions in her gut. ¡°I would be honored, Lord Emperor.¡±


    Athanasius nodded. ¡°Very good. We will recess for one hour. Then, we will make a decision regarding the Isle of Faltara.¡±


    ***


    Urla sat at her son¡¯s side, wondering, Was this what Campos planned all along? Did he ever intend for my son to bond with one of those eggs on Faltara?


    She wished Keivan were here, even though she knew exactly what he would say.


    Our duty is to Attica. Before House. Before family. Before glory.


    Besides, Attica¡¯s enemies and her own were one and the same. They had taken Keivan from her. They¡¯d brought her son to the brink of death. And they would learn the emperor¡¯s wrath.


    Ruan moaned softly, eyelids shifting as they do in dreams. His fingers twitched at the tips, a gentle fluttering that made her spirit surge.


    ¡°I¡¯m right here, son,¡± Urla whispered. ¡°I¡¯ll make this right, I promise you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good for you to speak to him.¡±


    Urla jerked her head at the voice to find the Dragon Emperor Athanasius himself entering the chamber. He was followed by two Knights of Caadron, one of them Vera Salyr, the other a tall Attican man. They flanked the entrance, hands on the hilts of their godblades. Even sheathed, the emerald glow tinted the lamplight that flickered off the walls.


    Standing to attention, Urla crossed her right fist over her heart as Athanasius drew up beside her.


    ¡°That¡¯s what the healers told me when Emperor Vitruvian lay in such a state. They encouraged me to read to him when I visited.¡±


    The emperor¡¯s short dark curls wove around the slender golden crown on his head. Up close, Urla could make out the individual branches and barbs of thorns. Though the crown still bore the emblem of flames at the front, the band hearkened back to the rose crest of Athanasius¡¯s house¡ªBerona.


    The emperor dipped his head to her, and gestured to her chair.


    ¡°Please, sit, Lady Consul. It¡¯s good your son knows you¡¯re right by his side. His spirit can sense everything in the room, the healers say.¡±


    Urla had forgotten that Athanasius¡¯s predecessor had also slipped into a coma from an unexpected injury. She tried not to let her mind linger on the fact that Vitruvian never woke again. It was the sudden tragedy that had thrust Athanasius into power shortly after he came of age.


    ¡°Thank you, Lord.¡± Urla sat and took hold of Ruan¡¯s hand once more.


    ¡°The world changes all at once. Or else not at all,¡± Athanasius said, standing beside her. Even at a whisper, the young man¡¯s voice was strong and comforting. ¡°My mentor taught me that. One moment, you¡¯re just another middling young lord at the academy. The next, you¡¯re shadowing the most powerful man in the world.¡±


    ¡°It is the greatest honor of my life to serve you in this new capacity, Lord.¡±


    Athanasius smiled grimly. ¡°Ah, but you didn¡¯t let me finish. For another moment, you¡¯re serving beside a man you admire more than any other. The next, you are stumbling alone in a dark world that demands your entire body and soul. And you dare not show fear or weakness, else you risk destroying the world built by greater men.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that, Lord. You¡¯ve done more for a greater Attica than even Vitruvian himself.¡±


    Athanasius raised his hands modestly and shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ve done my best to build upon my mentor¡¯s foundation. His legacy is set firm. He brought the ancient Dragon Lords to heel, spread out power, united the lords. My own legacy is still being written. You saw the way the ancient lords were looking at me in there.¡±


    Urla nodded.


    ¡°This is the great test of the new Attica my predecessor envisioned, led by lesser and younger houses. We have fractured over less. What follows will demand everything of us both in the days ahead.¡±


    Athanasius¡¯s gaze drifted to Ruan, then met her own, his dark brown eyes piercing straight to her spirit, as though asking, Will you have the strength to put duty before all else? Even your own son, if it comes to it? As your husband did?


    ¡°My duty is to Faltara. I trust the work of your healers while I¡¯m away.¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m afraid even they have their limits. My mentor is testament to this.¡±


    ¡°A sparring injury,¡± Urla recalled aloud.


    Athanasius nodded. ¡°Not so different from your son. A fluke injury that struck the right place at the wrong time. I insisted we try every avenue of healing available. Even those beyond traditional Attican measures. But Vitruvian had written into his will against such experimental sorcery. To this day, I wonder if I should have defied that will, somehow. If the empire would have been better served if I had.¡±


    ¡°The empire has thrived under your leadership, Lord.¡±


    ¡°What I¡¯m saying is that your son need not share the same fate.¡±


    ¡°Lord?¡±


    ¡°The Faltari shamans know deep magic, beyond that of our orders. Take your son. He was chosen for a dragon for a reason. And I, for one, would still see him become Dragonmount. Gods know, we¡¯ll need brave men such as he in the days ahead.¡±


    ¡°But if I am Consul¡­¡±


    ¡°There are ways around it. You are single now. You could take up your father¡¯s crest again. Or marry into another.¡±


    The thought of remarrying was unthinkable at the moment, but Urla¡¯s heart surged nonetheless, and she swore her son gripped her hand back, though he did not stir.


    ¡°In fact, we may need more dragons than ever before if this is to be an Age of Fire. Now, I need you to help me convince that council.¡±


    The emperor left, and the male knight followed after, but Vera Salyr lingered, waiting for her.


    Urla crossed the room and saluted her.


    The Lady Knight returned the gesture, but remained where she stood, blocking the door.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Urla asked.


    ¡°Lady Captain, er, Lady Consul¡­¡±


    ¡°Urla is fine,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re a Knight of Caadron, for Marha¡¯s sake.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Urla,¡± said Salyr. ¡°I am sworn to the emperor, but I have served General Campos for the past eight years. I have joined him on many journeys to Faltara, and other nations as well. As the new Consul, it would be my honor to serve you on this coming mission, and whatever may follow.¡±


    ¡°Lady Knight, I would be¡ª¡±


    In a flourish, the knight drew her glowing runemarked blade. In the same movement, she dropped to one knee, and extended the flat edge of the blade between her hands and dipped her head to Urla.


    She touched the knight¡¯s cheek so that she looked up at her. Her deep brown eyes were close to tears.


    ¡°You are my Lord¡¯s chosen successor,¡± the knight said. ¡°And you are a servant of the True Mother. The First Swordmaiden. By Marha¡¯s Blade, my blood is yours, whatever fates may divide.¡±


    Urla took the godblade from the woman¡¯s grasp, the soft pulse of magic thrumming even before her fingers brushed the cool surface.


    She extended the hilt to Salyr, and the knight took it proudly.


    ¡°You are now a member of the Bloody Company. The time for spilling blood will come soon enough. But for the moment, do you have any advice for convincing a den of wolfish nobles to change how we distribute dragon eggs once more?¡±


    The Knight of Caaadron flashed a smile. ¡°I may have learned a thing or two from your predecessor.¡±

 33 - Secrets

    The clamor of angry voices echoed through the thatched roof of the chieftain¡¯s meeting hall. Malik and his father sat together with the four Faltari clan chieftains, at the end of a long table crafted for three times their number.


    After the attack, all attention had first been focused on the safety of their people, and ensuring that the last of the foreigners left the island swiftly and peacefully. The injured were tended to, the fires at the edge of the village were extinguished. Then, witnesses were gathered and questioned, some by one chieftain, some before the entire tribunal.


    During the inquisition process, Malik relayed the details of his and Riese¡¯s planned uhmskara, and the fallout of that decision.


    The bonding, the Thenius girl¡¯s murder, the attack of the shapeshifters and the runeship, the abduction of Riese and the eggs. All of it.


    Joren had insisted he hold nothing back, and Malik had complied as best he could.


    The Faltari elders already understood the true meaning behind the Ascent ritual, so it was not a matter of the truth that worried them, but how to explain the attack and the company of Attican soldiers that had been stationed on the island in its aftermath.


    ¡°What do I tell my clansmen?¡± demanded Tul Eriksein, father of Aran Tulsein, and chieftain of the Dragyr clan.


    All the elders looked from one another to Joren, barely sparing a glance at Malik during the proceedings, except during his questioning.


    Joren sat back in his carved socha chair and motioned for the Dragyr elder to continue.


    ¡°They want to know the reason for this attack,¡± Tul went on. ¡°Why a flying ship and winged shapeshifters from the Abyss broke the peace of a hundred festivals.¡±


    ¡°Several of the Sabers are calling for closing the borders,¡± said Brom Dannsein, Petyr¡¯s father.


    ¡°A lot of good that would do if these rebels come back on a bloody flying ship!¡± said Lysa Anadeil of the Jackal clan, Malik¡¯s own mother¡¯s clan. His clan, until Derrin fell.


    Lysa was the eldest chieftain in the room, the only one accompanied by a successor, a middle-aged woman with red hair, who supported her by the arm each time she stood to speak. Like Malik, the Saber successor only listened, learning the ways of the tribunal under crisis.


    ¡°I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s an actual bloody solution,¡± Brom said. ¡°But it certainly is from my kin¡¯s perspective.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think the empire would allow it anyway,¡± Joren said.


    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s worth the declaration. Close our borders to all but the empire just to make a show of action while we figure out the real solution.¡±


    ¡°There is only one solution,¡± said Olma Marudeil of the Feathered Serpent clan. ¡°There has only ever been one solution. My clan¡¯s elders have known this for many years. Need I remind you that we rejected this entire charade from the beginning?¡±


    Tul Eriksein rolled his eyes. ¡°Serpents always have to inject their self-righteousness into every¡ª¡±


    ¡°We never should have got in bed with the Atticans,¡± Olma continued, ignoring the jibe.


    ¡°This is pointless talk,¡± said Lysa. ¡°What¡¯s done was done centuries ago.¡±


    ¡°It is never too late to correct a grievous error,¡± Olma said. ¡°We should have destroyed the World Gate when our people first made the Crossing. We should have destroyed it when the Attican emperor unraveled our secret two centuries ago. And we should still do it now. It is, and always will be, a curse!¡±


    Silence fell over the room. All eyes settled on Joren. Malik¡¯s father had said little during the deliberation. Angry as Malik remained about the secrets his father had harbored all his youth, he understood the wisdom of his father¡¯s tactics now.


    The first part of prudent speech is silence, his father had taught him.


    ¡°Whether an act of our ancestors was right or wrong is not the point.¡± Joren enunciated each word slowly, deliberately. ¡°This is the reality we inherited, nonetheless. Your ancestors made their choice, and we must make ours in the world we are in right now. A world in which secrets have been kept, for the good of our people.


    ¡°However we may feel, our peace and livelihood has long depended on imperial protection But now, it is not just our fate that rests on our decisions. Indeed, the livelihood of all Erith¨¨a may very well depend on it. The gravity of this matter for the rest of the world must not be lost either.¡±


    ¡°Why should we care?¡± Tul demanded.


    Joren leveled a fierce gaze on the man. ¡°These eggs have bought us peace at the edge of the world, but they have also brought stability. Across Attica and all Erith¨¨a. A balanced distribution of power.¡±


    Olma shook her head. ¡°After everything that happened¡ªwhen you were a boy, and this now¡ªand still, you sound just like your father, Joren. It¡¯s a bloody shame.¡±


    Malik watched his father carefully, wishing he knew what the chieftain spoke of. There was so much about his father that he didn¡¯t know.


    His uncle¡¯s death. His father¡¯s uhmskara. How his father had learned to fight better than an Attican soldier.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen what the empire does, Olma,¡± Joren said, suppressing a surge of bitterness in his spirit. ¡°But I have also seen much of the rest of the world too.¡±


    ¡°And no one else has learned anything, is that it, Joren?¡±


    Joren glanced away.


    ¡°What happens in the empire and beyond is not our concern,¡± Tul said.


    ¡°We are Faltari,¡± said Olma. ¡°Our task was not to hide. May the world be brighter for our burning. Our ancestors lost sight of that calling, and now, we reap the consequences.¡±


    ¡°Now, you wish to argue over the ancient texts? What do you think the empire will do to this island, Olma? If were to do what you say? To destroy the Gate would be an act of rebellion. Assuming we even could.¡±


    ¡°You know we could!¡±


    No one else dared speak.


    ¡°So you admit it, then?¡± Olma demanded. ¡°This life we lead¡ªall of it truly is a lie. We are just as beholden to the empire as any other nation in this world. All this talk of freedom and independence, our gifts from the gods. It¡¯s all talk.¡±


    Joren shook his head. ¡°After everything that¡¯s happened, Olma, you¡¯re the one who pretends the world to be as simple as your dreams.¡±


    Olma smirked. ¡°My mother taught me to let my voice be heard, and I reckon I¡¯ve done so. Whatever may come, the time for secrets is over.¡±


    The woman met the gaze of each person in the room, most glanced away, saying nothing. When her eyes met Malik¡¯s, they seemed to cut straight through to his spirit. Her blue eyes were like stars in winter sky.


    Blazing the same way as his spirit at her words.


    There came a knock outside the door, and for the first time, Malik realized that the clans had quietened outside the meeting hall.


    Joren crossed the room, and Malik tensed as he saw Aram Tulsein whisper something, then leave.


    Joren returned to the table. ¡°Lord Consul Campos has fallen. Now, his successor wishes to address the tribunal. We will adjourn for dinner and return to make our final decision.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Look, I know you can¡¯t say anything,¡± said Yuri, between bites of a hastily prepared porridge. ¡°But gods, it just makes no sense. Why would they take Riese, of all people?¡±The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°I don¡¯t bloody know,¡± said Malik. Yuri¡¯s betrothed had remained close to her parents after the attack, and every time Malik wasn¡¯t being questioned or sitting in on tribunal meetings, Yuri leapt at the chance to jabber to someone.


    ¡°But you were there! When she was taken.¡±


    ¡°I told you, we were trying to save Campos. We followed that traitor girl, Ava, into the woods, and found the Consul in a pool of blood.¡±


    ¡°And now, he¡¯s dead,¡± said Yuri. ¡°God¡¯s breath. That girl with the cane. I didn¡¯t see that one coming, I¡¯ll tell you that.¡±


    Malik just shook his head, wishing his friend would take a damn hint. His heart was sick with worry for Riese. But Olma¡¯s words haunted him too.


    So many secrets...


    The Faltari gathered in the field outside the village, where people from all over the world had been peacefully celebrating another successful festival only two days ago.


    There were few smiles now, and no music to be heard. Children huddled close to their parents. Joren was off visiting the wounded, and calming fears, and Malik¡¯s mother was performing a similar role for scared mothers and their children.


    Malik probably should have been doing the same, but he just couldn¡¯t bring himself to. So, he¡¯d taken his dinner with his sister, who largely ignored him and chatted with a couple of her childish friends about boys from the other clans.


    But Surel kept glancing over and smirked at Malik as Yuri went on and on. She never took anything serious enough, even an attack on their damn village.


    Normally, Yuri was the same way, but Riese¡¯s abduction seemed to have truly shaken him. And Malik couldn¡¯t blame him. He wished he could talk to Yuri about what he knew. He wished he could talk to anyone.


    In one night, all the lies about the Ascent had shattered, and no one outside that council knew. And Malik was dying inside.


    ¡°And what I wanna know is how the damn Elyans fit into all this?¡± Yuri was saying.


    ¡°What do you know about the Elyans?¡± Surel asked, winking at Malik as she left her friends¡¯ conversation and egged Yuri on.


    ¡°What does anyone know about them?¡± Yuri asked, glad for the attention. ¡°They come from across the eastern seas! Even the Atticans hardly know anything about them. Except it¡¯s a land of free magic. Shit, maybe it¡¯s not that different from here?¡±


    ¡°Well, listen to you!¡± Aram Tulsein plopped down beside Yuri. ¡°You talk to one drunk trader, and you think you understand the world, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± said Yuri. ¡°And what do you know?¡±


    Aram huffed. ¡°Seeing as I¡¯m fit to succeed my father as Dragyr chieftain one day, I¡¯d guess a fair bit more than you. Just like I know why they actually flew off with your friend.¡±


    Malik glared at Aram. ¡°Leave Riese out of this.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Aram. ¡°I just thought your friend deserves to know that you¡¯re lying to his face.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m honoring the will of the council.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not talking about the council, I¡¯m talking about you.¡±


    ¡°What he¡¯s talking about? Yuri asked.


    ¡°Yuri, just ignore¡ª¡±


    ¡°Malik didn¡¯t follow the Consul into the woods,¡± Aram said. ¡°He went there with Campos. And that cripple girl. Supposedly, they were going to go on uhmskara. Oh, wait, you didn¡¯t know that?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Yuri asked, pain written across his face. ¡°You were¡­ leaving?¡±


    ¡°Yuri, I¡¯m sorry we didn¡¯t tell you. It all happened so quick.¡±


    Aram Tulsein stood. ¡°Not even smart enough to lie. You¡¯re pathetic, shaman. You know what I think? I think there¡¯s plenty more you¡¯re not saying. Even in that council. My father thinks you¡¯re a damn liar and a traitor. Maybe even the reason all this¡ª¡±


    ¡°Go to the fucking Abyss, Tulsein!¡± Malik shouted.


    A little girl gasped nearby, and her mother shot Malik a harsh look.


    Surel and her friends were grinning, wide eyed.


    Yuri stood back, glowering.


    But Malik didn¡¯t care. He stood, glaring across the table at Aram, fists balled tight.


    ¡°Easy there, shaman.¡± A hand clasped his shoulder from behind.


    Malik spun to find Ulgar Fenrisen. He shrugged the boy¡¯s hand away, but Ulgar held tight.


    ¡°Ignore Tulsein,¡± Ulgar said. ¡°He¡¯s just jealous you¡¯re sitting on that council to begin with. He¡¯s been bitching and moaning about it all day.¡±


    ¡°For god¡¯s sake,¡± said Aram. ¡°The shaman saves your life, and now you¡¯re his bloody dog?¡±


    ¡°Least I en¡¯t delusional about my standing,¡± said Ulgar with a shrug. ¡°You¡¯re second born. You¡¯ll never sit on that council.¡±


    Aram rolled his eyes. ¡°Whatever. Lie all you want, shaman. But the Dragyrs see right through it.¡± With that, he sauntered away.


    Yuri got up from his seat.


    ¡°Wait!¡± said Malik.


    ¡°You gonna tell me what¡¯s really going on with Riese?¡±


    ¡°Yuri, you know the council is confidential.¡±


    ¡°Well, then, I guess we don¡¯t have anything to talk about, seeing as you didn¡¯t even trust me enough to tell me you were gonna leave the damn island.¡±


    ¡°Yuri, come on, I didn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    But the boy stormed off.


    His sister raised a brow. ¡°Well, that was smooth.¡±


    ¡°Enough, Surel!¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s going on over here?¡± their mother demanded, marching over from a conversation with some of the Jackal mothers.


    It was only then that Malik realized just how many people had taken notice of the altercation at his table. Dozens of his people were watching him from nearby tables. Their new shaman shouting and cursing.


    ¡°Nothing is going on,¡± said Malik, grabbing up his still-full bowl of porridge.


    His mother brushed his shoulder gently. ¡°Son, stay and eat.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hungry.¡±


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s from all that foot in your mouth,¡± said Surel.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath!¡± Malik muttered and hurried away, weaving between tables and around cookfires as fast as he could, brushing off questions from some of the other kinsmen gathered.


    He spotted his father watching him from the other end of the field. But Malik hurried on. He needed to be alone. To think.


    He nearly made it out of the gathering, when Riese¡¯s father, Ulrik, emerged from a tent near the village gates.


    ¡°Malik!¡± Ulrik motioned him over, a worried look etching deep crevices across his weathered face.


    Malik cursed to himself, but joined the man. Fear and lack of sleep made him look like he¡¯d just emerged from a days-long hunt.


    ¡°Is it true?¡± he asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±


    ¡°That you and Riese were with the Atticans when the Consul was attacked.¡±


    Gods damn you, Aram.


    Malik merely nodded his admission.


    ¡°What was she doing?¡±


    Malik didn¡¯t know what to say. Of course, he couldn¡¯t speak of the eggs¡ªthat the man¡¯s daughter was Dragonbound. That all the Ascent was a bloody lie.


    But he couldn¡¯t just run off, could he? Malik had gotten Riese into this whole mess, and his father had been like an uncle to him all his childhood.


    ¡°Please, shaman,¡± he whispered. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m trying to piece this together, but it just doesn¡¯t make sense. She was with us the whole evening. Riese seemed so happy, and then you came by, and she ran off to meet the Atticans¡­ Why?¡±


    The man clutched his forearm. Malik clasped the man¡¯s shoulder.


    Ulrik deserved the entire truth, but Malik had to give him something. ¡°We were seeking passage away from the island, sir. We were going to go on a Wandering.¡±


    The man¡¯s face twisted in a pained grimace. ¡°Leave? But why? Riese was just matched. She seemed so happy.¡±


    Malik sense the deeper turmoil in his spirit that no words could convey. Fear of losing his daughter. Fear of failing her. Driving her away. Despair over what he might have done differently.


    But it was Malik who had acted wrongly. He¡¯d gotten his best friend caught up in a bloody rebellion.


    ¡°It was my idea. I convinced her to go.¡±


    Ulrik covered his mouth and shook his head, pain emanating from his spirit. His words were muffled. ¡°I just don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I can¡¯t say more right now. But your daughter loves you very much. I know that for damn sure.She¡¯ll find a way back, I know she will. Riese is the toughest person I¡¯ve ever known.¡±


    Filled with rage and regret, Malik slipped past the grieving man and entered the village, weaving down the narrow lanes between longhouses. He paused near the outer wall, a sob catching in his throat.


    Every time he thought of Riese, he felt sick. Was she a hostage? Something else? The Attican girl, they¡¯d had no problem killing. Why did they take Riese?


    Not only that, but they¡¯d tried to take Ruan Pelasius as well. Whose mother was the new Attican Consul.


    Riese¡¯s father was right about that much. None of this made sense.


    The autumn dusk fell quickly on the village, and Malik knew he didn¡¯t have much time before the council reconvened. He hurried until he reached the temple.


    Still carrying his bowl of uneaten porridge, he ascended the steps and entered the main hall. The room was lit with candles and smelled of a woody incense. A handful of villagers burned prayer cloths before the statues of the All Mother and All Father.


    Malik hurried into the narrow hall beyond. Rooms for private rituals and divinations. Rooms filled with old scriptures from the Crossing, prayer scrolls, and rune transcriptions into the Common Tongue.


    Were the gods even real either? Or was that just one more secret his father had kept all these years?


    Despite all Malik¡¯s unrest about his role as shaman, the temples in each of the clan villages had always felt like home. Now, he felt like an earth tremor was bringing down the entire village on top of his head. Debris pressing in on him, choking the breath from his lungs.


    He nearly jumped when a figure emerged from the darkness at the other end of the hall, but was quickly relieved to find it was just Ulgar.


    The Serpent boy offered Malik a querulous brow, glancing at the door to the inner sanctum.


    Malik glanced back down the hall. They were alone.


    Swiftly, he pressed his palm to the wood, whispered the words of entry, and opened the runemarked door, ushering Ulgar to follow.


    The room was quiet within, lit only by a single runemarked lantern.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure no one followed you?¡± Malik asked.


    Ulgar nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t think I arouse much suspicion in my own village.¡±


    That was why Malik had sought his help in the first place, and because he¡¯d saved his life during the attack, and because he had a sense about him ever since the storm on the Spires.


    Ulgar was a good man. Someone he could trust. Much like Riese.


    Gods, I wish she was here.


    A soft muffled sound emitted from the desk across the room. The inner hall always emanated with hish from all the runework that ensured the room was secure from listening ears, but that sense was even stronger now.


    Malik and Ulgar crossed the room. A lone chair was set in the corner between shelves of sacred documents.


    Ulgar checked the bindings fixed to the chair.


    ¡°You learn anything this morning?¡± he asked.


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re here,¡± Malik said. ¡°I need a second opinion before I decide what to do.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ I¡¯m the obvious choice to help you¡­ not the high shaman of our people?¡±


    Malik grimaced. ¡°I wish it were that simple. But no, I can¡¯t tell my father. Not yet.¡±


    Ulgar pulled back the hood, and Malik untied the strip of cloth from Ava Rykus¡¯s mouth.


    Malik felt the pulse of hish as Ava pressed his mind with silent questions, assurances, and attempted manipulations.


    But Malik was more than strong enough to protect himself against her.


    Ava was not as untrained as she¡¯d seemed during the festival, but she was not powerful. Like a child who could swim, but she was no pearl diver.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Malik said, warding away her magic with a pulse of hish. ¡°No magic. No bullshit. Tell Ulgar exactly what you told me this morning.¡±

 34 - Prisoner

    Ava Lucila Rykus had woken in darkness. Her entire body jostling. Hands gripping her arms and legs. Carrying her through the forest.


    While the village had scrambled to deal with the aftermath of the rebel attack, the shaman had enlisted the help of a large boy named Ulgar to help in hauling Ava from the shrines to the village temple.


    No easy task in the darkness of the forest, or in the clamor of the village. But Ava was weak when she woke, hands bound, and she did not resist them.


    Somewhere between the shrines and the outer walls of the village, there was a shaman¡¯s passage, a secret tunnel leading straight into this secret chamber in the temple.


    There had been many other people in the woods near the village walls, but there had been plenty else going on, the air filled with cries of children and injured villagers within the walls, and Ava¡¯s hood had been drawn, and it was the middle of the night yet.


    They slipped through a very tight space between an old socha trunk and a large boulder, then slipped down a small hole in a space behind a tree, and they were out of the forest.


    Malik had used a significant amount of magic, Ava noted, to direct attention elsewhere when they neared that secret entrance.


    Ava could still sense the guilt gnawing at Malik¡¯s gut, the intrusive magic clearly against the moral code of these shamans. As was harboring a murderer in the inner sanctum of their temple, Ava expected.


    She¡¯d never held such reservations about magic, at least none that had not been forced upon her by the academy or the demands of secrecy. But it told her much about the shaman. The boy, Ulgar, she had less of a read on.


    He struck her as a simple man, and he smelled faintly of fish. Not a brute, but the sort of boy who let others do the deliberating.


    So, why had the shaman brought Ulgar now?


    Ava groaned as she craned her neck to face them both. She¡¯d spent nearly two days tied to that chair, and her whole body was stiff. Her head throbbed from when Riese had knocked her unconscious. And her bad hip ached something fierce.


    A small sacrifice, she thought.


    The shaman had at least let her remove the brace from her leg. Worn too long, it cut off circulation. Now, it flopped against the side of the bookshelf in this inner temple chamber.


    Ava peered up at Malik, then her gaze drifted to the porridge in his hands.


    ¡°You going to eat that in front of me out of spite?¡±


    ¡°Er, no.¡± Malik set the bowl in front of her.


    He¡¯d only brought a flagon of water when he¡¯d visited her this morning, and she was the hungriest she¡¯d felt since the academy trials that had sent her out to survive in the woods for three days with only a spear. Her hip made it difficult to hunt game, and she¡¯d subsisted mostly on nuts and berries.


    Ava glanced at the bowl of porridge with longing, but she couldn¡¯t resist another jab. The shaman always reacted.


    ¡°So¡­ do I lap it up like a dog, then?¡± She leaned her face forward, arms straining against the ropes fixing her hands to the back of the chair. She stretched her neck toward the bowl.


    Malik blanched. ¡°What do you think?¡± he asked Ulgar.


    ¡°Eh, her legs are still bound.¡± Ulgar moved behind the chair and untied Ava¡¯s hands.


    She grunted as she stretched her aching fingers and rubbed the raw lines formed by the ropes on her wrists. ¡°You¡¯re both noble gentlemen,¡± she said.


    Malik glared as she extended a soft flare of magic at them both.


    ¡°No more warnings,¡± he said. ¡°If I sense any magic manipulation, we turn you over to the Consul.¡±If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Consul?¡± Ava asked curiously. ¡°Surely not Campos, the way I left him. That must mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Malik said.


    ¡°You brought it up, not me.¡± She flashed a full-lipped smile. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose it would help to remind you my actions were entirely¡ª¡±


    Malik sent a flash of magic her way, pressing into her mind.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ve no idea what it takes to survive an Attican upbringing. Valucians all thought we were traitors. Atticans looked down on us as lesser lords, but still blood-traitors. It required a lot to make my way here.¡±


    ¡°And look at you now,¡± Ulgar said dryly.


    Ava smirked. ¡°Yes, caught somewhere between traitor and saint, once again, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    These two had no idea what she¡¯d been through. What her family had sacrificed. What her people had endured.


    But you can¡¯t blame them for that, Ava reminded herself.


    The shaman was a good man, and at the very least, he questioned what should be done with her. Ava had to build on that.


    ¡°Tell Ulgar what you told me,¡± Malik said again.


    He was growing frustrated. Ava took that, and Ulgar¡¯s return, as good signs.


    She took up the bowl and scooped the goopy porridge into her mouth with her fingers. It was cold, and lacked any seasoning, but her body relished the sustenance.


    ¡°Your friend is safe,¡± Ava said. ¡°Your people are safe, at least as far as the rebellion is concerned. I can¡¯t speak for the empire.¡±


    ¡°Safe? Tell that to all our injured people,¡± said Ulgar, crossing his thick arms across his chest and stepping closer, so he towered over her.


    Ava had seen enough academy boys try to overcompensate for their insecurities to ignore the intimidation. ¡°Were any of your villagers killed in the attack?¡±


    Ulgar hesitated. ¡°I don¡¯t believe so.¡± Ava took another sip of porridge. ¡°I¡¯m relieved to hear it. Our enemy is Attica, not Faltara. But if a new Consul is here, I fear the island won¡¯t be safe much longer. The shaman fears this too, I think.¡±


    Malik dipped his chin.


    ¡°If our island is unsafe, it¡¯s because of what you¡¯ve done,¡± Ulgar said. ¡°No one has been killed in cold blood here in centuries.¡±


    ¡°We did what we did because of what your people have done for centuries. Without dragons, what power would Attica have? Your people did that.¡±


    Ulgar stepped back a step, then shrugged. ¡°I expect you know more about all that than me. I¡¯m just a lowly island boy from the edge of the world.¡±


    Ava smiled. ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°What is it your people want?¡± Ulgar asked.


    ¡°Freedom,¡± said Ava softly. ¡°Something you value here on the island, I¡¯m told.¡± She glanced at Malik, who seemed to be striving to maintain an indifferent demeanor.


    He was not so worried earlier, Ava thought. Not before the Atticans returned.


    ¡°And the Elyans?¡± Ulgar asked. ¡°How do they fit into all of this?¡±


    ¡°Freedom is a value we all share. They lent our cause the use of one of their runeships obviously. We are not the first.¡±


    ¡°And what about those creatures? Where¡¯d they come from?¡±


    Ava shrugged. ¡°They¡¯re not creatures, but I¡¯ll say no more. I don¡¯t know if I can trust you.¡±


    ¡°Seems to me, you¡¯re the one who needs to prove trust.¡±


    ¡°Does it seem that way to you?¡±


    Malik shifted uneasily. He was so jittery.


    ¡°Why were you left behind?¡± Ulgar asked. ¡°Your father didn¡¯t so much as look back. I saw it. And you don¡¯t seem to concerned about it either.¡±


    ¡°The mission always comes first,¡± Ava said.


    ¡°Or he left you here for a reason,¡± said Malik, finally interjecting.


    Ava nodded, pleased with how the conversation had gone, even without the assistance of magic.


    ¡°Because he¡¯s coming back,¡± Ulgar said.


    ¡°You two seem to know as much as I do.¡±


    ¡°Quit playing games,¡± Malik said, straightening up, jaw tensing.


    Ava sighed and leaned back from the desk. ¡°You¡¯re cute when you¡¯re frustrated, shaman.¡±


    ¡°I mean it,¡± he said. ¡°No more bullshit.¡±


    Ava pounded the empty bowl on the table. ¡°That is the one thing I have never done. My family is ready to die to free Valucia from Attican tyranny. And if you think that your own island is exempt from their cruelty, you¡¯re the one bullshitting yourself. Your island is the home for the dragons that fuel the empire, and the secret¡¯s out. You¡¯re all going to have to decide which side to take.¡±


    The two young men glanced at one another. Even without her magic, she could tell the tension. It was all she could do to not try to probe further.


    ¡°How many eggs are there really?¡± she asked. ¡°Every year more come to Attica. For centuries. And according to my father, dragons can¡¯t reproduce in this world.¡±


    ¡°This world?¡± said Ulgar.


    Malik shot a glare at the boy, and Ava grinned.


    ¡°Maybe your father doesn¡¯t know what he¡¯s talking about,¡± Malik said.


    ¡°Maybe¡­ but I¡¯d wager that dozens of eggs have passed from this place. Maybe hundreds. And I think there are more. Far more. And if something isn¡¯t done, the empire will seize them all. Maybe they¡¯ll hide them someplace else. Maybe they¡¯ll hatch them all. And THAT would be the end of the world as we know it. An Age of Fire.¡±


    Silence hung over the room. Ulgar shifted nervously, glancing at the door.


    Malik sighed. ¡°So what?¡± said Malik. ¡°We should give them to your rebels instead?¡±


    ¡°You seriously think we¡¯d tell you where they are?¡± asked Ulgar.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not why I¡¯m here at all,¡± said Ava.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re here for any reason,¡± said Malik, but she could sense the doubt in his spirit, even without magic.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll certainly find out soon enough.¡± Ava sat back in her chair. ¡°You¡¯re right, the rebellion will return. And the empire is going to try to seize as many eggs as they can. And they won¡¯t care who dies in their wake, that much I promise you. Not Valucians. Not Faltari. No one will be safe.¡±


    Ava drew a long breath, letting the tension build. ¡°I¡¯m here to warn you, shaman. It¡¯s time for your people to leave this island. For good.¡±

 35 - The Eyrie

    ¡°Watch your step,¡± said Deven l¨¨ Nir.


    The floor of the runeship shifted beneath them, and Riese held tight to a rail as they ascended the narrow steps to the main deck. She was no longer bound, though the runemarked collar remained.


    Riese could not shake the images seared into her mind. The entire Isle of E¨°reth smoldering like the coals of a cook fire. It wasn¡¯t the Rykus castle that haunted her, but the village outside, the charred skeletal remains of incinerated huts. Roofs caved in or consumed altogether. Walls collapsed. They¡¯d been too high and distant to see the bodies. But her imagination ran wild.


    ¡°They had no warning,¡± Rykus had said. ¡°Women and children, who¡¯d no part in what happened on Faltara. This is the swift wrath of the empire your people have empowered, Riese Torendeil.¡±


    To think she had entertained joining their legion of dragon riders. To wreak carnage in the same way on other unsuspecting innocents. Her people had been right about the nature of the Dragonmounts.


    And yet, they¡¯d also made this possible, content to look the other way as they delivered Attica the keys to their power. Hours later, her stomach still churned at the images in her mind.


    Rykus¡¯s words rang over and over in her head as they sailed away from E¨°reth, quickly lost back in the darkness of the storm.


    Now, Riese and Deven emerged on deck. Dark clouds enveloped them in all directions, but a golden glow hung over the deck of the ship, reminding Riese of the way her village illuminated on a snowy night, the light of hearths and candles magnified by the weather.


    Only here, the light came from hish-infused runes. And something else too.


    Tiny flashes of golden light darted all around the flying ship, buzzing loudly as they whisked from sails to rigging to the sides of the vessel. One brushed past Riese¡¯s face, and she barely resisted the instinct to swat it away like a pesky deer fly. It drew up at once, and hovered near Captain Rykus¡¯s shoulder, who stood at the foredeck, beside a woman with fiery hair who manned the helm.


    The woman was slender, dressed in form-fitting navy trousers and a long navy officer¡¯s coat that nearly reached her knees.


    The dark-winged creature was the size of a handspan. Small horns protruded from an ugly head, and its skin was covered in fiery veins. Dark eyes examined Riese up and down for a moment, then the creature turned to Rykus and spoke.


    ¡°Lord Rykus, Sky Captain Verina, we are nearing our destination.¡± Its voice was raspy and guttural, befitting the fearsome face, though Riese had expected a higher pitch based on its size.


    ¡°Very good, Lir¡¯ghe,¡± Rykus said.


    The creature scowled, eyes darting to the Sky Captain and then to Riese.


    ¡°Lord, should not this prisoner stay out of sight?¡±


    ¡°She is no prisoner, Lir¡¯ghe.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t I?¡± Riese chuckled, hand drifting to the runemarked collar around her neck. She glanced at Deven, who stood beside her, hand hovering instinctively at the hilt of a saber.


    The Morph shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re still a sorceress.¡±


    ¡°And a Dragonmount,¡± Rykus added.


    Lir¡¯ghe buzzed softly, arms crossed over its tiny humanoid chest, remaining close to the Sky Captain¡¯s shoulder. Verina held tight to the helm, subtly adjusting numerous levers on a panel beside the wheel as they sailed across the skies. Lir¡¯ghe whispered something sharply to the Sky Captain. She shrugged, and focused on the task before her.


    ¡°Well, since my opinion is not being heard,¡± the creature murmured, ¡°I return to work now.¡±


    Without another word, the creature darted away.


    ¡°Moody fellow,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Small vicious creatures usually are. Your dragon will be worse as a hatchling.¡±


    My dragon, Riese thought.


    It was a such a bizarre thing to say so casually. But that bond was a part of her now. Over the past several hours, she found her spirit aching for it, longed to feel the dragon¡¯s spirit again. She could sense the dragon was nearby. Despite the destruction she¡¯d witnessed, she still longed to see her own dragon hatch. To meet it. To complete the bond.


    And that was the true reason she was here, she knew.


    But there was much left to determine, even if she was sympathetic to Rykus¡¯s cause. There was so much she did not understand.


    Riese marveled as the fiery creatures flitted from place to place on the ship, rune to rune. The winds shifted sharply, jostling the entire ship. Riese grabbed on to the railing to steady herself.


    The Sky Captain hollered an order as she adjusted several runemarked levers. Sails shifted, and the ship groaned as it turned in the misty skies.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath! Are those flying this thing?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± the Sky Captain said.


    ¡°What are they?¡±


    ¡°Kroqala¡± said Rykus. ¡°Demon faeries from the Lost World.¡±


    ¡°From the Crossing?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Well, she¡¯s a sharp one at any rate,¡± said the Sky Captain, with little enthusiasm.


    Rykus nodded, though he made no further answer.


    ¡°We¡¯re close,¡± said Rykus, gripping the helm fiercely. ¡°Best hang tight. The winds are always stronger up close.¡±


    ¡°Up close to what?¡± Riese said.


    Rykus winked, but said no more.


    ¡°Come,¡± Deven said, pointing to the bow of the ship. They crossed quickly, and Riese held on to the railing, peering over the side. Her stomach roiled. All she saw was roiling mists, but she knew they must be hundreds, maybe thousands of feet above the sea. One slip, and¡­


    No Dragonmount would fear such a height, she thought, steeling herself. This ship is far safer than most places on the Spires.


    ¡°So, are you going to tell me where we¡¯re going, or youall going to keep playing this vague mystery game?¡± Riese said, shifting her gaze ahead into the gloom.


    ¡°Where do you think a rebel would go in between missions?¡± Deven asked with a wry smile.


    ¡°Well, I thought we were heading back to your master¡¯s island before it was destroyed.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Deven grimaced. ¡°We never used his own kingdom as a rebel outpost for just that reason. But we heard word, and Rykus had to be certain.¡±


    ¡°How did you hear so quickly?¡± said Riese.


    Deven shrugged. ¡°There are many things that can be done with the proper rune work. We were fortunate the Dragonmounts had already left. No doubt planning their own next moves. Everything will converge on Faltara. But first, we must confer with the others.¡±


    ¡°What others?¡±


    Deven pointed out into the darkness ahead. Riese peered into the thick clouds, mists dampening her hair, chilling her skin. Wind rushed over the deck, sails roaring as the Kroqala and some of the other soldiers adjusted their position once more.


    Ahead, amidst the billowing darkness, dark shapes appeared. A mass of rock jutted up in front of them.


    ¡°We¡¯re lower than I thought,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re thousands of feet above the ocean right now.¡±


    ¡°You mean, that¡¯s not a mountain?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s a mountain, alright. But it¡¯s nowhere near land.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Riese could hardly believe it, but as they neared, it became apparent exactly what it was.


    The ship veered to the right, and more looming masses of stone appeared in the night, lights glowing at the peaks. There were five total, that Riese could tell.


    ¡°It is known as the Eyrie,¡± Deven said. ¡°A long lost secret of Valucia.¡±


    The ship slowed, gliding between two of the floating mountains.


    Riese drew a long cold breath, her entire body shivering now. Wind pressed against her body, and she held tight to the rail, her knowledge of the world unraveling once more.


    There are more Spires in the world?


    The Sky Captain barked an order as the runeship drew up close to one of the levitating peaks, adjusting furiously as they slowed. From the mists, a short wooden dock jutted out from the top of the mound of rock, and the vessel came to a stop.


    Soldiers transformed, clothes vanishing, dark wings shooting out from their backs.


    The Morphs flew from the ship and fixed ropes to large metal hooks, tethering them to the skydock. In the mists, it was difficult to make out just how large the spire was, but Riese could not see to the other side.


    The crew began to disembark across a plank with rails on both sides, anchored firmly with ropes on both the ship and the dock. The ship swayed in the swells of the storm, but they were sheltered from the wind on this side of the spire.


    Rising from the darkness, there was a lone building made of stone that was weathered and crumbling, older than anything Riese had ever seen. Except in the Abyss.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± Deven asked.


    Half the crew had disembarked. Riese struggled to find words.


    ¡°I¡­ what is this?¡±


    Deven shrugged as Rykus joined them at the plank.


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to act confused,¡± said Deven.


    ¡°We¡¯re still learning to trust one another,¡± said Rykus. ¡°So, I don¡¯t begrudge you anything. But understand, we¡¯re risking much bringing you here.¡±


    ¡°That was your choice to bring me here. Not mine.¡±


    Rykus made his way across the plank and turned back from the safety of the docks. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to take a side, Riese. All your people will.¡±


    ¡°Might as well make an informed decision, right?¡± Deven said.


    Riese hesitated. ¡°And if I choose wrong? Am I really supposed to believe you¡¯ll let me live after I¡¯ve seen your hideout?¡±


    ¡°Well, surely, not with your dragon. But you could never find this place.¡±


    Riese crossed her arms.


    Deven softened her gaze and brushed her shoulder. This time, Riese didn¡¯t flinch. ¡°If you choose to forsake your dragon and your destiny, I will take you back to Faltara myself. But if you truly believe we¡¯re as heartless as the Atticans your people have served for so long, well, you¡¯re dead either way, I expect.¡±


    Riese followed the woman across the board of wood, skies plummeting on either side. Her vision swam once more, and she had to focus on placing each foot in the center of the board. She was not sure what she was doing, but something deep inside her told her this was the right path.


    A few more steps, and Riese stood on solid ground, feeling as though she were walking in a dream.


    The lone structure was unassuming, barely larger than the mead hall back home, minus the wall surrounding it. A few flying Morphs soared over the entrance wall, and then, the ten foot wooden doors groaned open, and Captain Rykus led the way through, Deven and Riese following quickly after.


    They entered a hall about fifty feet across, circular in shape, entirely flat but for a staircase on one side. The room contained no tapestries, no murals, no statues, just walls made of crude rectangular stones that looked to have been taken from these very Spires. All contained the same brown tint as the ground outside.


    One of the Morphs entered behind them in human form, holding a small wooden chest, and Riese felt a burst of warmth in her spirit. Deven took the chest from the man.


    ¡°Are those¡­¡± Riese began.


    Deven nodded. ¡°All three eggs from the festival. Yours among them. Though I expect you¡¯ve already felt it.¡±


    Riese felt a deep longing inside. The warm resonance reaching for hers, filling her with hope. With light.


    Captain Rykus approached, placed a hand on the runemarked chest. It flashed at his touch, and he uttered words in a strange tongue.


    Carefully, he opened the top and withdrew the resplendent emerald egg that had been burned in Riese¡¯s memory.


    Rykus smiled. ¡°A breathtaking marvel, isn¡¯t it?¡± He turned the egg over in his hands, scales shimmering in the low lantern light. He drew closer, and the radiance in Riese¡¯s spirit flared even stronger. The feeling consumed her awareness. Being so close to the egg. To the soul tethered to her own, even if it had not yet come into the world.


    He held it out to her. ¡°You are bound to this dragon, Riese Torendeil. Campos made sure of that. But it is not yours, will never be yours, unless it hatches, and that requires sacred knowledge, ancient rites. The window is short. If you and this egg were to be separated for long, the bond would fade, and the spirit of the dragon within would seek another to release it from dormancy.¡±


    ¡°Speak plainly, Captain Rykus.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen a taste of one path you nearly took. The fate of a Dragonmount of Attica, sent to burn innocents. Should you forsake this bond and return home, you would choose a second path. You might feel depressed for awhile at the absence, but the memory of the bond would fade, and you would only be tormented by the question of what might have been. But there is a third path. Would you like to see it?¡±


    She spared a glance at Deven, still holding the chest. The young woman smiled.


    Riese took the egg from Rykus¡¯s hands. The dragon¡¯s resonance pressed against her spirit, a near tangible urging. She had to know. Both of them did.


    ¡°Show me,¡± she said.


    Rykus closed the chest, took it from Deven, then crossed the room, making for the staircase, which descended below this hall.


    It was wide enough for several people to walk abreast and wound downward out of sight. Riese followed Rykus, and Deven came after.


    They wanted something from her, but Riese was growing to trust them. Or at least, she didn¡¯t fear them. This rebellion needed her. And she needed to know more.


    The staircase wound down for what must have been several hundred steps, walls lining the staircase the entire time. Wind rushed upward, growing stronger as they went. All at once the inner wall faded, opening into a massive lower hall, two or three times the size of the one above. They descended from the top of the second chamber, which was much taller than the other. The room glowed with an incandescent light emanating from the floor.


    As they neared the bottom, Riese realized she could see through the floor, like looking through foggy glass. The pulse of hish was furious here. She could not draw it in with the collar on, but she could feel the power rushing just as powerfully as the wind.


    ¡°We¡¯re near the base of the mountain,¡± Rykus said, grinning at the bottom of the stairs. A small walkway formed a rim around the expanse. Riese gazed up to find a domed cavern filled with menacing spears of stone in the ceiling. She gazed closer at the floor, and realized the wind was rushing from the floor itself. It was not glass. The floor was open, and those were clouds. Mists surging beneath them.


    The wind and hish filled Riese¡¯s senses with a near-overwhelming charge of energy. The egg in her hands pulsed, urging her onward.


    Captain Rykus moved to the very edge of the walkway and peered into the expanse. Riese inched closer trying to make sense of the strange glowing coloration. Near the rim, the skies were dark, but the colors shifted as they neared the center of the expanse. Lighter shades of blue and white clouds.


    It was so different from the passage Riese had experienced, but she knew this feeling. It was unfathomable, and yet, she knew exactly what this expanse was. She¡¯d seen that strange film before, peering through to a different sky.


    ¡°So, this isn¡¯t your first time,¡± Deven said, standing beside her.


    ¡°No... well, not like this... but... how do you¡­¡±


    ¡°How do you cross?¡± Rykus asked. ¡°You jump.¡±


    ¡°Jump?¡±


    ¡°Or fly,¡± said Deven.


    ¡°Yes, flying is preferred for this particular passage.¡± With a surge of hish, Rykus levitated from the ground. Only a few inches, but it was no less jolting. Awe-inspiring. Marvelous.


    Rykus drifted out over the expanse, still holding the chest.


    Deven transformed into her Morph form and reached out a leathery hand.


    Riese cradled her dragon egg in the crook of her arm, tight against her chest, and clasped Deven¡¯s hand with the other hand. Fear and excitement flooded her.


    But from the egg, she felt a sense of calm. The way her father¡¯s presence had comforted her as a child.


    This was the right path.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Deven asked.


    Riese took in a long breath, and nodded.


    Magic rushed over her entire body, pulling, lifting, as Deven flapped her wings. And Riese also rose from the ground.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath!¡±


    ¡°Oh, you haven¡¯t seen anything yet.¡± Deven grinned.


    With a rush of her wings, they soared over the expanse with a burst of speed that made Riese¡¯s stomach sink.


    They plunged downward.


    Through a second Gate of the Ancients.

 36 - The Other Side

    ¡°There is no time to waste,¡± Consul Pelasius said, addressing the Faltari council.


    Joren¡¯s stomach twisted into knots as he listened. He could sense the sincerity in the Lady Consul¡¯s spirit. She was nervous and shaken, and her thoughts dwelled on her injured son. None of which boded well for what was ahead.


    ¡°The rebels will return,¡± Urla continued. ¡°This arrangement has benefitted both our nations for many years, but it is time for the nature of our arrangement to evolve. The secret of these dragon eggs poses a grave danger. Both for Faltara, and all the realms.¡±


    Joren feared what must be done, and he was not the only one.


    ¡°Even Campos did not know the true source,¡± said Olma of the Feathered Serpents. ¡°Why should we think a few backwater rebels will be able to find it?¡±


    Urla Pelasius remained calm. ¡°Are you willing to gamble all these innocent lives on that hope, madam?¡±


    Silence hung over the room, and it spoke louder than any voice yet.


    ¡°How many people live on this island?¡± Consul Pelasius asked.


    ¡°Roughly five hundred,¡± said Joren. ¡°Across the four clans.¡±


    Olma hesitated, crossing her arms over her chest, but finding no words.


    ¡°Most of our people do not know the true nature of our¡­ alliance,¡± explained Brom Dannsein of the Saber clan. ¡°They believe the eggs are destroyed each year after the Ascension. What reason could we give them for leading an Attican company to our sacred valley?¡±


    The chieftains nodded their agreement. Joren grabbed his beard anxiously, to prevent himself from shaking his head. What would an imperial soldier care about what we hold sacred?


    Whether Urla thought it or not, she responded judiciously. ¡°We all do what we must to protect those we love. I am sure our ancestors had good reason for conducting matters the way we have until now. But, as my father used to say, when the world shifts, you may go with it, or be destroyed by it, but you cannot fight such a force.¡±


    Again, silence filled the chamber.


    ¡°My hope is that your people will see no more destruction than what has already been meted out by this party of rebels. I know the choice before you is difficult. The attack took a toll on my own house. My own mentor. I do not wish your kin a similar fate.¡±


    ¡°If our ancestors were able to keep the alliance a secret, then I believe we can find a way to keep this matter a secret as well,¡± said Tul Eriksein. ¡°It¡¯s clear those bastards are coming back. It¡¯s a matter of how soon?¡±


    ¡°Days,¡± said the Consul. ¡°Two or three at best.¡±


    ¡°Then, we must move quick!¡± said Tul.


    ¡°Two days,¡± Olma said with disbelief. ¡°No force could come so swiftly.¡±


    ¡°Some distances require much time. When traveled by land and sea. Others require only an instant.¡±


    ¡°You think they¡¯ve one of your Knights?¡± Olma demanded.


    Eyes drifted to the towering Lady Knight standing directly behind the Consul. It was no secret any longer that the woman¡¯s sorcerous blade formed some sort of portal. There had been too many witnesses during the doomed attempt to save Campos.


    ¡°There is much we do not know,¡± said Pelasius. ¡°But we must be prepared. A company of Dragonmounts are heading this way as we speak. They are too large to come by means of a Knight. It is a long flight, but they will be here tomorrow. And it is my duty to prepare the way.¡±


    The air seemed to grow heavy in Joren¡¯s lungs. The world had changed all at once, on his watch. And no matter how he worked scenarios in his mind, he did not know how he could change the inevitable.


    ¡°No outsider has even been invited to our sacred valley,¡± Joren said. ¡°That is the whole of the matter. It would unravel our way of life.¡±


    ¡°It would unravel our lies, is what you mean.¡±


    Everyone in the room turned, and Joren¡¯s heart wrung out inside his chest.


    It was his son who¡¯d spoken.


    Joren held up a hand. ¡°Son, now is not the time for¡ª¡±


    Malik¡¯s face remained impressively calm. This was not an outburst. It was a calm and deliberate statement.


    His son rose to his feet and looked out at all gathered in the room. The four chieftains, Lysa¡¯s successor in-training, Urla Pelasius, and the Knight of Caadron.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Malik¡¯s gaze settled on Olma last.


    ¡°Elder Marudeil, you said our people deserve better. I say, they deserve to know the truth.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± said Dannsein. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious!¡±


    ¡°Sit down, boy,¡± Tul Eriksein said.


    But Joren dismissed him. ¡°My son is a member of this council, a shaman who serves our people. Let him finish.¡±


    Malik barely masked his surprise, but he continued. ¡°Our way of life has been preserved by lies. Perhaps this was wisdom in the past, when all we knew was peace. I won¡¯t claim to know. But our island was attacked. Our people were injured. Visitors were killed because of the secrets this council has kept.¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Tul said. ¡°You were going to run away from our people just last night!¡±


    Malik nodded. ¡°Yes, I was. And I convinced my best friend to go with me. Now, Riese is gone. Taken by the rebels that attacked our peaceful festival. I accept my responsibility for that, no matter my intentions. I call on this council to do the same. Our home was attacked, and now, our entire livelihood is in danger. The dragons we have long forsaken are coming here. Because of our secret. No matter what happens, our people deserve to know why. And they deserve to choose what they will do with that truth.¡±


    ¡°Son, what are you talking about?¡± Joren asked.


    ¡°War is at our doorstep,¡± said Malik. ¡°While these rebels run free, this place is unsafe. I propose we offer our people the choice. To stay. Or flee the island until this is over.¡±


    ¡°Leave the island?¡± Tul demanded.


    Joren stood and joined his son. There were times in his life¡ªoh, so many bloody times¡ªwhen the path was unclear. When Joren had felt torn about his responsibilities to his people. But all at once, that responsibility came into focus.


    ¡°My son is right,¡± Joren said.


    There was a moment of silence.


    Then, the room erupted in a clamor of protests, and assents, and deliberations.


    This had always been the way of the council.


    ***


    Riese emerged from the portal on solid ground, though she nearly lost her balance, the shift from flying downward to walking right side up was so jarring.


    She stood at the edge of a steep hillside, looking down upon a lush green valley, illuminated in a strange purple light. Dark skies radiated with stars, far brighter than on Faltara. Thick bands of them spanned the horizon like rivers of light.


    Deven stood beside her, already back in her silver-haired human form.


    Rykus stood ahead of them, pointing down the hill.


    An overgrown castle with thin spires and a great dome at the center was nestled against the opposing hillside, surrounded by the strangest copse of trees Riese had ever seen. Narrow white trunks topped with leaves of crimson. There were some trees that turned like that in autumn, but this place left no indication of autumn whatsoever. It was warm, almost too warm with her cloak on. Bubbling brooks flowed from the rolling hillsides, collecting in a small lake near the castle. Flowers bloomed all around the rolling hills.


    Riese felt a surge in her spirit and shifted here gaze upward.


    A pair of dragons twirled across the sky, as though dancing. Riders were mounted on their backs, holding tight as their dragons spun through the air with lightning speed and remarkable grace.


    The egg in her hands was radiating brighter than ever before, and Riese¡¯s spirit filled with joy.


    ¡°The bond is powerful, isn¡¯t it?¡± Rykus said.


    Riese could not take her gaze from the dragons. Her spirit swelled in her chest.


    ¡°It sees what you see. Feels what you feel.¡±


    Riese had heard such things from bards that came to the Festival of the Fading Sun each year. But she never could have imagined a feeling like this. She felt as though she¡¯d been only a portion of herself all her life, and now, she was whole.


    ¡°Even before they hatch,¡± Riese said. ¡°It¡¯s incredible!¡±


    Rykus nodded. ¡°That sense grows stronger the longer you¡¯re together. It can become overwhelming at times, particularly in moments of heightened emotion, especially once the bond is completed at the hatching.¡±


    ¡°How do you know so much?¡±


    The man smiled and gestured at the skies. ¡°Well, clearly, the Dragonmounts are not the only dragons in the world. I told you, Valucians have a long and complicated history. Now, come, we don¡¯t have time to gawk at dragon flight, no matter how right we might be in doing so.¡±


    Rykus strode down the hillside, still holding the chest containing the other two eggs. Riese followed him on foot, while Deven flew ahead on her Morph wings.


    They were a couple of miles from the castle, and the journey took the better part of an hour, if Riese had to guess. As they descended and crossed the valley, Riese spotted more winged creatures in flight, much smaller than the dragons. As they neared, she realized they were more of the Morphs in winged form. Half a dozen were practicing sparring maneuvers mid-flight, the clang of clashing blades echoing across the valley.


    High above it all, the dragons continued to soar.


    ¡°Where did they come from?¡± Riese asked.


    ¡°I thought you were still trying to determine whether to trust me,¡± Rykus said.


    Riese glanced away.


    ¡°I¡¯m joking, Riese. You¡¯ll figure that out for yourself soon enough. Those dragons are the best kept secret in Valucia. The eggs were hidden since the ancient days. Hatched during the days of the Uprising, in hopes they might produce an army, but sadly, just like Attican dragons, they are infertile.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Rykus smiled. ¡°That is a question every Dragonmount in ?rith¨¨a has asked countless times. No one knows. Dragons are not native to our world, and I suspect the reason is connected to that fact.¡±


    Riese pictured the Gate of the Ancients at the peak of the Spires. That dark, ruined world haunted by dragyrs and wights.


    The secret resided with her people. It always had.


    ¡°At any rate, the Uprising was already lost before these two grew large enough to fight. And the secret of their existence has remained. But we never lost hope in a company of Rebelmounts. There is no freedom in Valucia. Or in all ?rith¨¨a. Not without a power that rivals the imperial Dragonmounts. But we don¡¯t just need dragons, we need riders, Riese.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not even Valucian,¡± Riese said.


    ¡°The old rebellions were about Valucia. And they failed. The Sigan revolt was about Siga. Same with Taika in years past. And on and on the cycle goes. A few hornets attacking a bear can do little, but a whole hive, well¡­¡±


    ¡°Who else?¡±


    Rykus smiled. ¡°That is where our conversation ends for the moment. Until you decide. War is coming to ?rith¨¨a. It has been brewing for ages, and soon, the cauldron will spill across¡ª¡±


    Half a dozen Morphs flew toward them at a blinding speed, Deven at the front, coming from the direction of the castle.


    Once standing on solid ground, they transformed into human forms, and Deven rushed forward.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Rykus demanded.


    ¡°The Atticans, sir,¡± Deven said. ¡°Dragonmounts have attacked Chardonia.¡±

 37 - Children of the Gods

    The people of Faltara gathered in the fields outside the village of Yerida one last time.


    Joren¡¯s heart was a boulder in his chest as he made his way forward to the front of the assembly.


    The only failure lies in choosing the wrong path.


    For so many years, even after he returned from uhmskara, Joren had questioned his path. Told himself it was his responsibility to lead, that tradition had been handed down to him from greater and wiser ancestors.


    Perhaps this was true and perhaps not. Maybe the lies had served his people in the past. But anything short of the truth would be their undoing now.


    War had come to their tiny corner of the world. Whether it was the first time, he didn¡¯t know. There was so much unknown, so much unknowable about the past. And he supposed it didn¡¯t matter.


    For days, his son had not been able to look at him, just as Joren had been unable to look his own father in the eye when he found out the truth. But when Joren announced his intentions to the council, he felt the quickening in his son¡¯s spirit.


    Joren ascended the hill alone. None of the chieftains, not even Olma, joined him for the task. He turned to face the people he¡¯d served all his adult life.


    Madri and Surel stood near the front.


    He was about to begin when Malik pushed his way through the front of the crowd. Joren¡¯s spirit leapt as his son approached.


    Malik wore his shaman¡¯s cloak. He hadn¡¯t worn it since the final ceremonies beneath the Spires.


    With his son at his side, Joren addressed their people.


    For the first time in centuries, they would know the truth. About the Ascent. The eggs. All of it.


    ***


    There was confusion. Outrage. But most of all, there was fear.


    Joren did his best to assuage them at the outset, but he knew there was only one way to convey the severity of this circumstance, and ensure that all chieftains were not blamed.


    ¡°It is the sworn duty of the shaman to care for the good of our people. Above his own self. Above the interests of the chieftains or any individual clan. Certainly above any tradition of the past. Considering all that has happened, I fear I have failed you all in this sacred duty. Our island, our very way of life is no longer safe. And I hold myself personally responsible. Secrets have kept us safe for many generations, but in my own generation, they have become our undoing.¡±


    The entire valley had grown silent as the crypts beneath the Spires.


    ¡°Before any of this,¡± Joren said, ¡°before the attack, my son spoke against the lies our ancestors have harbored. But I did not have the courage to heed that caution. You all deserved to know the nature of the Ascent, the reason our children¡ªeven my own eldest son¡ªwere lost. You deserve to know precisely why our island is unsafe now.


    ¡°As a boy, my father instructed me that there are certain breaches of trust that are irreparable. And I¡¯ve come to know that to be true. I will help lead those who wish to leave the island, while the empire does what they must. But that will be my last act as your shaman.¡±


    An eruption of murmurs spread across the valley, including the chieftains. None had known Joren¡¯s fullest intentions for this speech. Not even Malik.


    Olma stood and raised her hands for quiet. She strode up the hill to join him, and the murmurs died.


    ¡°And who will tend our spirits when this is done?¡±


    Joren could feel the tension in his son¡¯s resonance. But there was nothing for it.


    ¡°I believe Malik will make an excellent shaman, should he so decide. But I fear much will change when all this is accomplished. Perhaps the very structure of how the Faltari are governed. Perhaps this ought to have happened long ago. For now, we must ensure there is, indeed,a future for our people, before we concern ourselves with building it. War is coming to our island. We set sail tomorrow.¡±


    ***


    The village of Yerida did not quieten until the fullness of night had descended upon the island.


    Urla established a garrison in the crude square outside the village. Where days ago, vendors from many lands had set up their carts, now, it was home to the soldiers of the Bloody Company.


    Prior to the council¡¯s decision, Urla had come with only Vera Salyr and a few trusted soldiers. But now that the shaman had prepared the way, the Lady Knight used her godblade to bring Urla¡¯s entire company through to the island of Faltara.


    It took half a dozen passages over the course of several hours. By the final passage, Salyr looked like a soldier come from a days-long stint on the front.


    Urla clasped the woman¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You should rest, Lady Knight.¡±


    The woman¡¯s face was flushed, hair drenched in sweat. But she shook her head. ¡°I swore to remain at your side, Lady Consul. And I intend to do so.¡±


    Urla knew the woman still blamed herself for what had happened to Campos. Had she remained at his side that night, things might have turned out very different. It was a gnawing feeling they both shared.


    ¡°The passage takes a mighty toll,¡± Urla said. ¡°Even a fool could tell that. And I will need you at your strongest tomorrow, when we march to these Spires. I¡¯ve plenty of my own guards to look after me tonight.¡±


    Salyr looked crestfallen.


    ¡°That is an order,¡± Urla said. ¡°Rest.¡±


    The knight saluted her. ¡°Yes, Lady Consul.¡±


    Urla watched the knight go. It was so strange to be in a position to give orders to a Knight of Caadron. Of course, she¡¯d been a captain in the legions for years, and a lesser officer for years before that. She was no stranger to giving orders, but most of those orders were simply passed down through a long line of command. They were rarely her own.


    Now, her orders came direct from the emperor himself. A top secret mission depended on her and the Bloody Company, and the fate of Attica¡¯s most powerful resource was at stake.


    ¡°Lady Captain.¡±


    Urla turned to find her young second lieutenant, Caliphus, saluting her.


    ¡°Er, sorry, I mean, Lady Consul.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Lieutenant. The title still sounds strange to my ears as well. At ease,¡± she said, and the man relaxed his stance, hand on the hilt of his saber.


    ¡°All our squadrons have made camp, Consul. I¡¯ve ordered double guard duty along the perimeter of the camp, and stationed patrols in the village, as well as the Faltari encampment in the fields beyond.


    ¡°Good,¡± said Urla. ¡°Send Roak and a scouting party further down the fjord as well.¡± She pointed out over the water, where the cliffs dominated the horizon. ¡°Another up by those shrines on the mountainside. And we¡¯ll need a patrol to scout ahead along this Soul Road at first light. Check for any other path from the village as well.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Consul. Anything else?¡±


    ¡°We march at first light. Make sure all duties are equally shared. I expect tomorrow will be a long day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see it done,¡± Caliphus said. ¡°Excuse me if I overstep, but many of the troops are wondering about the nature of this mission. What is in these mountains?¡±


    ¡°The future of the empire, Lieutenant. You¡¯ll be briefed with more information when the time is right. You know the drill.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Lady,¡± Caliphus said. ¡°A strange place for a rebel target. A strange place, period.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Lieutenant. And these are strange times. They will demand our all. Our emperor is counting on us.¡±


    The young academy man stood up tall and saluted once more. ¡°I¡¯m proud to serve at your side again. And I must say, they couldn¡¯t have chosen a better Consul.¡±


    ¡°Caliphus, flattery is not part of your duty.¡±


    He smirked. ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°What about my son?¡± Finally, she asked the question that had been nagging her for hours.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°He¡¯s been brought to your tent, Lady. Along with a pair of imperial healers.¡±


    ¡°Is he awake?¡±


    ¡°It did not appear so.¡±


    ¡°That will be all, Lieutenant.¡±


    Caliphus marched off, and Urla began to walk the camp as she had done so many times before. Weapons were cleaned, blades sharpened. Cookfires were tended, and rations packed. All for a top secret mission in the mountains at the edge of the world, against an unknown enemy.


    Even Urla did not know what they might face. How far did this rebellion reach? Athanasius seemed to believe it remained a fledgling operation, but if more Valucian lords were involved¡­


    The Chardonians, at least, would not think of supporting Rykus. By now, the first dragons had surely struck, along with an elite force that had required all the other Knights of Caadron, save one other, who was tasked with negotiating with the Valucian lords.


    So much at once.


    Urgent energy permeated the camp, even through small acts of preparation. Despite the vague orders. Despite the fact that most of them had likely learned this island existed only a few hours ago. It was the sort of mission any imperial company dreamed of.


    They¡¯re among the finest soldiers in all the empire, she thought.


    But it felt different now, as Consul. After the events of the attack. Urla felt separate from the men and women of the Bloody Company in a way she¡¯d never felt before.


    As Urla passed among the troops, her soldiers saluted, eyes drifting to the new uniform she wore. Gold pauldrons with crimson frills, the imperial white dragon sigil emblazoned upon her leathern chest plate. The uniform of a high-ranking officer. Few made verbal acknowledgment, though they all nodded and smiled proudly as she passed.


    Whatever this mission was, it came from the emperor, who had chosen their own captain to replace Consul General Campos. And they carried themselves with a shared pride.


    For Urla, it was mixed. Not only because of the tragedies clouding her mind. But the finality of this separation. Whatever happened, she expected this would be her last hurrah with the Bloody Company.


    Urla reached the gates of the village, crude doors made of split snowpine. The Attican guards ushered her through.


    A few Faltari villagers still scurried about, but for the most part, the place was silent. Most of the Faltari were camped in the fields beyond the village, but the place was quiet, even in the distance.


    She stopped outside the pillared entrance to the village temple. The shaman¡¯s wife sat on the top step, smoking a long, narrow pipe. The woman eyed Urla carefully.


    ¡°Madri, is it?¡± Urla asked. They¡¯d met briefly during the festival, before the world turned on its end.


    The shaman¡¯s wife looked pensive, perturbed even. Brow furrowed, jaw tight. ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the night. Hasn¡¯t your empire done enough today?¡±


    It was a feeling she expected most Faltari shared, though none yet had given voice to the sentiment.


    Urla dipped her chin. ¡°I know all this has taken a fierce toll, madam, but it is my prayer that none of your people will come to harm. It is why we¡¯ve acted so¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ve already come to plenty of harm,¡± Madri said. ¡°More than you could ever know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for that, from one mother to another.¡±


    Madri shrugged. ¡°Your son was here at the festival. Where is he now? Hiding back at your capital?¡±


    Urla grimaced. ¡°No, madam. My boy is here. Ruan¡­ has not woken since the attack. Since that Valucian traitor tried to take him along with the Faltari girl they abducted. If not for your husband, my son would be lost the same as Riese Torendeil.¡±


    The woman¡¯s face softened at the remark. There was a bond among mothers that transcended even the gravest differences. ¡°Your healers¡­¡±


    ¡°They say there¡¯s nothing that can be done. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve come tonight, in truth. I know it is much to ask after all that¡¯s happened, madam, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Call me Madri,¡± she said, with a wave of her hand. ¡°And from a mother to a mother, I¡¯m sorry to hear about your son. Much as I wish you weren¡¯t here at all. Much as I wish none of this had happened. My husband is tending to our people at the moment. Many prayers are being burnt tonight, as you might imagine.¡±


    The notion was odd to Urla. In Attica, prayers were given to priests, who would offer sacrifices in order to usher the blessings of the Heavenly Mother and Father.


    ¡°I heard Joren is stepping down as shaman,¡± Urla said.


    ¡°We¡¯ll see what comes to pass,¡± said Madri coolly. ¡°Anyway, not until after all this is over, and until then, Joren will continue his duties.¡±


    Urla could sense there was tension over the matter. ¡°Well, if he¡¯s busy, I¡¯ll come back later. If you wouldn¡¯t mind letting him know I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stay, he¡¯s nearly done.¡±


    ¡°Are you¡­ sure?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s rude in Faltara to question the sincerity of an invitation, you know.¡± Madri gestured to the steps, a slight grin teasing at the edge of her lips. ¡°Sit.¡±


    Urla did, awkward though it might be. It was not lost on her how the Faltari viewed all this. They might not be friends of Valucian rebels, but there was little love for Attica here, least of all after what had transpired, and the revelations that had come to light. Everywhere she¡¯d seen, these people looked angry, confused, distraught.


    ¡°I do not relish the thought of leaving,¡± Madri said after a silence.


    ¡°Must you leave?¡±


    ¡°All of us? No, I¡¯m sure a few will stay. Me? It would be seen as an act of dissension if I were to remain while my husband led our people away from these shores.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe they should go?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe we should lead your kind straight to our most sacred place. But it seems it¡¯s been desicrated for a long time. So what does it matter? What¡¯s sacred is lost now.¡±


    Urla didn¡¯t respond. The next silence stretched longer.


    The door burst open, and the young shaman emerged. When Malik met Urla¡¯s gaze, he glared and turned to his mother.


    ¡°What¡¯s she want?¡±


    ¡°To see your father,¡± said Madri.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it can wait until¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about her injured son, Malik.¡±


    The boy hesitated. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t jump to insinuations until you know all the information. You¡¯ve already been living at the edge of your spear too much in the past day.¡±


    Urla watched the exchange carefully. The whole family seemed to be at the edge of their spears. The son harbored bitterness toward Urla too, that was plain to see.


    But the mention of Ruan triggered something in the boy she could not quite place her finger on. She decided to offer a little more.


    ¡°Malik, you helped Ruan get Campos to safety. I owe you a debt of gratitude.¡±


    Malik grimaced, seeming to be torn between anger and something else. Remorse? Sympathy?


    The boy dipped his head. ¡°It was my duty, Lady Consul, that is all. And it accomplished nothing, it seems.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that. You risked your life to save my friend and mentor. It is not nothing in my eyes.¡±


    ¡°How is your son?¡±


    Urla told him.


    Malik pondered this for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll fetch my father.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hate to pull him from his duties.¡±


    Malik shrugged. ¡°The last of the Faltari left half an hour ago. He asked to be left alone.¡±


    Madri scowled. ¡°I¡¯ll be the one to fetch him, then.¡±


    ***


    Joren knelt in the secluded prayer hall near the back of the temple. The walls were covered with runes, much like the Hall of the Ancients at the base of the Mountain of Souls.


    A carefully transcribed copy of their most sacred document, The Crossing of Worlds, was laid out on a pedestal at the front of the chamber, before the engraved mural of the All Mother and All Father, both pointing the way toward a stone archway in the Dying World.


    The mural was a magnificent work etched into the walls, painted with dyes harvested from various kinds of shellfish. It was older than this temple. Hundreds of years old, according to tradition, though it had been restored and repainted many times over the generations.


    A dim voice in the back of Joren¡¯s mind had always wondered what the original looked like, how it compared to the depiction he¡¯d knelt before all his life.


    The gods ushering them through, guiding them, choosing their people to start over in a new land. In the days when gods still roamed the Dying World as ancient souls.


    A prayer cloth burned softly on embers in the hearth, and Joren read a passage from The Crossing for what must have been the hundredth time:


    From darkness, we followed a guiding light. Across plains of obsidian stone. Across wine dark seas. Across worlds themselves.


    From death to new life, we crossed, filled with strength from the Father, courage from the Mother. Crossing over to an unknown future. A destiny that would transcend generations.


    We were chosen. To be a people set apart. Children of the gods. Let us become that guiding light. Sons and daughters of the flame.


    And may the world be brighter for our burning.


    Shivers ran down Joren¡¯s spine. It was a passage that had haunted him all his life. It contained so many unspoken questions. Why had his people come to this place? How had they come?


    It was a passage that seemed to contradict the Crossing described in Faltari history, which required no crossing of seas. Shamans past proposed that this referred to other explorations, the expansion from Faltara to the other corners of the world, which came after. Perhaps they had ventured from here and returned.


    Yet, no other nation in ?rith¨¨a believed the Crossing originated from Faltara, or even the northern regions of the world.


    In his youth, the sacred passage had instilled doubt about all his people believed¡ªtheir version of the Crossing, their set apartness, their very way of life.


    And yet, that final part about burning to make the world brighter, as children of the gods. That had always lingered in Joren¡¯s mind. The nagging question it demanded.


    Have YOU lived up to this, Joren? Have your people?


    Footsteps resounded behind him. But Joren didn¡¯t move. He knew those steps. Slow, methodical, with a bit of a shuffle across the uneven stones of the hall.


    Madri¡¯s hand brushed his shoulder from behind, and she knelt beside him. Her hand found his, and her warm spirit washed over him. He did not deserve her, that much he knew.


    ¡°That damn passage will be the death of us all,¡± she said, chuckling darkly.


    Joren did not know what to say. His wife was always been the better communicator of the two of them. Joren could tend to mourning families and address their entire people, and the words flowed as though capturing the gods¡¯ every breath. But put him before an angry wife, and he drew inward.


    Madri always seemed to know what to say, to understand the things he bottled up.


    ¡°I¡¯m not angry with you for your decision to step down as shaman,¡± Madri said, releasing his hand. ¡°I¡¯m hurt that you did not live up to that damned passage with me. I understand why all this has remained a secret from our people for so long. But from me?¡±


    ¡°Madri, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s silly. Yes, I know. And bloody selfish.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not,¡± said Joren.


    Madri drew closer to him, wrapped her arm around his shoulder, and looked over the sacred parchment. ¡°Children of the gods. Do you believe it¡¯s true?¡±


    Joren shrugged. ¡°Who could truly say after all this time? Most shamans of the past would say yes. Though not all. Few in all this world wield magic as our people do, and in that way perhaps we are special. But magic is not unique to us by any stretch of the imagination. I struggle to believe that we¡¯re truly uniquely blessed. We¡¯ve simply held to a tradition and close bloodlines¡­ For a time, I thought it was bullshit.¡±


    ¡°And now?¡± Madri whispered.


    He sensed she was agonizing over this too. Perhaps many of their people were.


    ¡°Now¡­ perhaps it is better understood as a metaphor for our people. A calling. A bar to reach for. That¡¯s what I believe this passage is truly about.¡±


    ¡°Let the world be brighter for our burning... makes you wonder if we were ever meant to remain on Faltara, doesn¡¯t it? Hiding from the sufferings of the rest of the world to hold tight to our traditions. If the flame¡¯s a metaphor, I fear we¡¯ve been nothing but fading smoke.¡±


    Joren looked his wife in the eyes. A tear streaked the left side of her face. He reached up and brushed it away, and she pressed her face against his hand. He pulled her into an embrace, both of them trembling.


    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t want to leave,¡± he said into her dark curls.


    Madri pulled back to look at him. ¡°All your life, you¡¯ve been a man of conviction. I¡¯m not angry about leaving. I¡¯m angry you lied to me, to all our people. I¡¯m angry it took this tragedy for you to do the right thing.¡±


    Joren nodded, her words piercing deeper than any blade ever could.


    ¡°This is the right path, my shaman. My love. And I will follow you to Valgland. I¡¯d follow you to the edge of the world, if it came to it. I¡¯d follow you into death.¡±


    Joren clutched her tight, tears streaming, body shuddering with silent sobs.


    Gods, he loved this woman.


    They held each other for some time. Eventually, Madri pulled back.


    ¡°I¡¯ve truth of my own, I need to share, but first, there¡¯s a mother whose son needs tending.¡±

 38 - Healing Rites

    Malik was angry with his mother for sending him with Consul Pelasius. Hadn¡¯t they sacrificed enough for the empire? Let them heal their own sons!


    But Madri had insisted, and his mother was not a woman to be argued with when she set her mind to something she believed to be right.


    ¡°When the gods brings a problem to your door, you do not run,¡± she¡¯d said.


    Malik knew she was hinting at his almost uhmskara. It was the unspoken mistake that hung over every interaction between them since the attack. He had almost left his family and his people for a far-off land without a word, and he felt guilty each time he looked at her.


    What might have been different had he and Riese been celebrating with the rest of their people? It had been impulsive, cowardly. Reckless.


    Malik knew that now.


    His father said Malik was right for being disturbed by the truth, but he could hear in his mind exactly what his mother would say to that.


    You do not run¡­


    And yet that was what their entire people were preparing to do. Was that what she was truly upset about?


    Malik had watched the quiet tension between his parents all evening. She did not believe either of them to be right.


    Should Malik have told her the whole of it?


    Urla Pelasius did not speak a word to Malik as they crossed the Attican encampment, and for once, Malik resented the stillness.


    What if he was wrong? What if Ava was full of shit? What if she was manipulating his hope that Riese might actually be safe?


    He was relieved when they reached Consul Pelasius¡¯s tent. A soldier pulled back the flap, and Urla ushered Malik inside.


    The tent was vast, nearly as long as his family¡¯s log home. And remarkably luxurious for a war tent. Multiple rooms were partitioned with large flaps of ornate cloth, a pattern of diamonds criss-crossed the dark material in gold thread, looking like mountains stacked atop one another by their peaks.


    The smell of death filled the entire tent, though there was no sign of Ruan in the main chamber.


    A healer emerged from behind one of the flaps to greet them. She was a young woman with bronze skin and frizzy hair, dressed in forest green robes. She dipped her head to Urla, but made no acknowledgment of Malik.


    ¡°Your son lies at peace, Consul,¡± the healer said.


    ¡°He isn¡¯t¡­¡± Malik began, nearly overwhelmed by the stench.


    The healer shook her head. ¡°Ruan yet lives, shaman.¡±


    ¡°Prepare a stretcher,¡± Urla ordered. ¡°We¡¯re taking him into the village.¡±


    The girl¡¯s face contorted, and she shot a glare at Malik.


    ¡°Are you certain, Consul? I¡¯ve seen many dark effects from sorcerous healings. Many a lordling has fled desperately to the Free City in hopes of a magic touch. Most regret this in the end. Witches are swindlers, and their arts always have a price. Are you prepared to pay it?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a Beirusian witch,¡± Urla said. ¡°The emperor knows the risks, or he wouldn¡¯t have suggested this course of action.¡±


    ¡°Pardon, Lady, but I expect the emperor knows little of witchery, and even less of healing, gods save him.¡±


    Urla patted the girl¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I appreciate your concern for my son. But my mind is made.¡±


    The healer nodded, then ushered them into the chamber.


    Ruan lay upon a mat at the end of the room, head propped on a wide feather pillow. The skin of his face was drawn loose over his cheekbones, as though he¡¯d aged fifty years in a day. His pallor had turned a deathly porridge-grey. But what disturbed Malik most was how faint the boy¡¯s spirit resonated. Distant, as though half-departed from the world already.


    It pained Malik to see anyone in such a state. At once, his anger dissipated, replaced with sympathy. He wished it were easier to see the Attican boy as an enemy, but in his heart, he knew it was never so simple. The boy had been brave the night of the attack. And he had paid a greater price than any Faltari. Death seemed a fearsome hand clenching its fingers around them all.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Lady Consul,¡± Malik murmured. ¡°I fear¡­¡±


    Urla knelt at her son¡¯s side, while soldiers prepared a stretcher. Her lip trembled. It was so strange to see a woman like her¡ªfierce, formidable, devoted to the empire¡ªbrought to tears like any mother would in such circumstances.


    Malik almost reiterated what the imperial healer had said, for it was true that there was little hope for Ruan Pelasius. But Malik did not have the heart to speak it.


    ¡°I know there is only a chance my son will wake,¡± Urla said. ¡°And an even smaller chance that he will thrive if he does. But that chance is all I have left in this world. Do you understand?¡±


    Malik nodded to her. ¡°It is good you¡¯ve brought him to us. His wounds are deeper than flesh and bone. But my father is the finest spiritual healer on the island. We should hurry.¡±


    ***


    One look at the boy, and Malik¡¯s entire family began scrambling about the healing room to prepare for surgery.


    First, a tincture of edelgrass and noxium root to numb the pain.


    Malik¡¯s family often assisted Joren¡¯s healings. Malik had endured fitful screams as bones were set, changed sheets drenched in sweat from villagers tossing and turning in fever dreams. Few times had this room been so utterly still.


    His mother bit her lip as she fixed leather bands to Ruan¡¯s arms and legs, fixing him to the surgical table. Malik wondered if the bindings would be needed. He hadn¡¯t moved an inch during the entire transfer from the Consul¡¯s tent. The boy was so distant from this world, it seemed the slightest nudge might send him over the brink into death.


    Surel gathered cloths in utter silence, and if that wasn¡¯t a testament to the direness of the situation, Malik didn¡¯t know what was.


    Joren held instruments over a torch to sterilize them. Several long needles and a slender spike with a flat head on one end, like a nail.


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    Urla watched with remarkable calm, clutching her son¡¯s limp hand.


    Malik stoked the fire in the hearth, then he and Surel draped thick leaves of fireweed on a rod above the flames. One leaf ignited, and he had to douse it. The leaves were on the verge of being too dry for the ritual, and if they burned hot, the effect would not last.


    ¡°A little more water,¡± Madri instructed, handing Malik a basin to dip the leaves in before adding them to the rod.


    Smoke began to permeate the room.


    ¡°What is that?¡± Urla asked.


    ¡°There is swelling in Ruan¡¯s skull,¡± Joren said, fetching a tiny iron hammer and a spiral-crank needle from a drawer of healing elements in the corner of the room. ¡°The pressure will have to be relieved, or I fear he will not wake again. The process is terrifying, but the smoke will help dull the senses and draw hish in to strengthen his spirit.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t use channelers?¡± she asked.


    Joren took hold of her hand and looked into her eyes. ¡°You brought him to me, Lady. You must decide at once if you will trust my methods.¡±


    Consul Pelasius nodded.


    ¡°I can promise nothing,¡± Joren said. ¡°But I performed this procedure once before on a soldier bludgeoned to near-death by a war hammer. This is the only way I know to help him.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Do whatever you must.¡±


    ¡°We will have to drill a hole in his skull. Too far and he will die. Too little and he will die.¡±


    Malik and Surel draped a long cloth over the boy¡¯s body. It was unnerving how still he was.


    ¡°Even with the tincture and dreamsmoke, he may wake during the operation,¡± said Joren. ¡°And he will be in the worst pain of his life. An unsteady hand¡­¡±


    ¡°I will hold him,¡± Urla said.


    Joren shook his head. ¡°The spiritual toll will be great, and you are untrained. It would be better if you remained out in¡ª¡±


    Urla brushed off his comforting hand. ¡°Shaman, I¡¯ve fought in over thirty battles in my life. I¡¯ve lost comrades in my arms. A few weeks ago, I lost a husband. I will not leave my son tonight.¡±


    ¡°Very well. Malik, you hold his feet. Madri, you tend the smoke. Surel?¡±


    Malik¡¯s sister was frightened, biting her lip as she fought not to show it.


    ¡°I need you to pass instruments the moment I ask, do you hear?¡±


    Surel nodded and stood straight, suddenly seeming much older than the annoying adolescent girl she was.


    Malik stood at the side of the table, and took hold of Ruan¡¯s knees and chest. He could feel the swell of hish all around the room as the smoke heightened his senses.


    It would make the healing more powerful, but it would also make the pain...


    ¡°Surel, razor.¡±


    Joren began to trim away hair from the back of the boy¡¯s skull.


    Urla stood beside Malik, holding either side of her son¡¯s head with immense warrior¡¯s hands.


    ¡°Drill.¡±


    Surel handed it to him, and Malik leaned over the boy, pressing his own weight down, head growing light from the smoke.


    The only sound was the soft scraping of bone as his father cranked the drill.


    ¡°Hold steady!¡± Joren said.


    Now, the soft ping of the hammer and spike. A faint crunch.


    Ruan¡¯s entire body twitched.


    ¡°Oh Mahra,¡± Urla said. ¡°I think he¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hold steady!¡±


    Joren tapped again.


    The boy groaned.


    Crunch, crunch, then a squelching sound.


    The boy¡¯s entire body spasmed beneath Malik¡¯s weight.


    And screams erupted.


    ***


    Malik¡¯s parents claimed it all lasted but a few moments before Ruan Pelasius fell back into unconsciousness, but the look of the boy¡¯s face twisted in agony, eyes wide and bloodshot, was seared into Malik¡¯s mind.


    He slumped in a chair in the corner of the room, while his parents finished the ritual. The dreamsmoke drifted out an open window, and the intensity of the operation began to dissipate. But Malik could still hear the screams in his mind, feel the way the boy had writhed beneath his grasp.


    Surel had left the room the minute the operation was complete.


    Now, Ruan slept peacefully, chest rising and falling with steady breaths.


    Urla Pelasius had been unfazed by her son¡¯s screams throughout the procedure, but she slumped beside her boy now, body shaking with heavy breaths while Joren completed the final healing rites, carefully drawing rune spells on the boy¡¯s skull and neck, whispering the words over and over as he wrote them in the boy¡¯s blood.


    First, attend the body, then the spirit. That was the only way with such a wound.


    Malik leaned forward, elbows on his knees, head propped in his hands, nearly as spent as he¡¯d been from his entire Ascent.


    His mother handed Joren tinctures and salves, and then came the bandages.


    Malik had helped his father with operations before. Broken legs, wounds from a hunt gone awry. Some of them had been serious. Three years ago, a hunter had died on his father¡¯s table.


    But this operation had affected him more than all the others. He was not sure why.


    Madri had removed the fireweed leaves, and now, only traces of smoke hung in the rafters of the chamber. His mother whispered in his father¡¯s ear, then prepared a prayer cloth and burned it in a clay bowl beside the bed.


    Then, she joined Malik, taking a seat in the other chair, and took his hand.


    ¡°You look like you could use some clear air, son.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, mum. Most of the smoke is gone.¡±


    ¡°I think your father could use one of the rune books to complete the healing.¡±


    Malik shot to attention in spite of himself. ¡°In the Sacred Hall? Sure, I¡¯ll get them right away.¡±


    He cursed to himself. He¡¯d nearly forgotten about Ava Rykus. He¡¯d managed to keep her presence a secret until now. His father had been so pre-occupied, the one time he¡¯d needed into the room today¡ªto fetch one of the clan ledgers¡ªhe¡¯d gladly let Malik get it for him. And the room was warded by many spells.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t I come with you?¡± his mother said.


    Malik tensed. ¡°Er, no, it¡¯s fine, I can¡ª¡±


    ¡°I could use some air too.¡±


    Only shamans were able to open the Sacred Hall, but there was no good reason for his mother not to come with him. His father had taken her there countless times before. But if she saw¡­


    ¡°Come.¡± Madri took his hand and led the way out.


    The moment they exited and breathed clear air, Malik¡¯s spirit lightened further.


    ¡°The spiritual toll is worse with outsiders,¡± his mother said. ¡°Bloody Atticans think their aversion to magic keeps them safe. Perhaps it does. But their spirits are weak, and ours were forced to compensate for that weakness tonight.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± Malik said, trying to feign casual conversation. ¡°Guess I¡¯ve never been part of a foreign healing.¡±


    ¡°Your father learned that on the battlefront. During his uhmskara, he fought in the Taikan uprising. Against the empire.¡±


    His father was a such a kind, non-violent man, it was difficult to picture him anywhere near a battlefield. That is, until Malik had seen him fight off those creatures during the attack. He¡¯d fought with skill beyond what could be explained by hunting experience.


    Malik scowled. ¡°Yet another secret, then.¡±


    Madri nodded. ¡°Your father is a complicated man. With a complicated role. One he never truly wanted to be his.¡±


    ¡°Never wanted? But he was the eldest. It was always meant to be his role.¡±


    His mother smiled and shrugged. ¡°There is much you do not know about your father. Much you have assumed. The problem with men is you all keep everything pent up inside and think it a strength.¡±


    Malik¡¯s mother took his chin in her hand and turned his face to look directly in her eyes. ¡°You are brave, son. You are strong. And the past few days, you have shown yourself to even be wise. At times.¡±


    She winked, and Malik laughed.


    ¡°But you hide much inside. From our family, yes. But also from your friends. Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed the way you kept Yuri and Riese at arm¡¯s length these past two years. Thinking they could never understand what you¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    Malik nodded. ¡°Riese and I worked things out¡­ before all this. But Yuri... I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve made a lot of mistakes.¡±


    ¡°Gods yes, you have,¡± she said on a chuckle. ¡°We all have. But if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learned in these forty-four summers, it¡¯s that the greatest mistake of all is not being true with the ones you love. When you trust someone, you hold nothing back. This family has known too many secrets, son.¡±


    A sinking feeling tore at Malik¡¯s gut. They stood ten feet from the runemarked door.


    ¡°You... you already know, don¡¯t you?¡± Malik asked.


    His mother lowered her voice to a whisper. ¡°About the Valucian girl in this very hut? No.¡± She chuckled.


    Malik felt a strange mix of terror and relief. ¡°D-does father? Does anyone else?¡±


    ¡°No one else. But I don¡¯t expect a foreign mage would escape your father¡¯s sense. Not even locked behind wards.¡±


    ¡°Then, why didn¡¯t he... why didn¡¯t either of you¡­¡±


    Madri clasped his shoulder and pulled him toward her. Malik sunk into the embrace.


    ¡°Because your father once fought against this empire.¡±


    ¡°He fought with the Taikans.¡±


    ¡°Driven by the same youthful conviction of justice and passion that drives you now. Your father said nothing of the girl because he knew this was a passion you inherited. Your father... both of us knew you¡¯d do what¡¯s right, given a little time to decide.¡±


    A wave of relief swept over him.


    ¡°Can the girl be trusted?¡± Madri asked.


    Malik reached for the runemarked door, and the glyphs glowed at his touch as he spoke the words.


    ¡°Come decide for yourself.¡±

 39 - Wind Catcher

    Ava¡¯s heart felt like it had been wrung out in her chest, so agonizing were the screams.


    For a sorceress with cerebral gifts like herself, the sound was just the beginning. Ava could feel agony like it was part of her own spirit. Normally, she could ward this off with great care and practice. But not now.


    The torment in Ruan¡¯s mind was nearly overwhelming. When his screams finally faded, she felt nothing for several minutes. Ava feared he was dead, and the possibility nearly broke her.


    She gripped the arms of her chair so ferociously that the ropes binding her began to cut off circulation.


    The world went silent.


    Then, Ava felt the dim pulse of unconscious peace emanating from Ruan¡¯s mind, and she crumpled in her chair in the Sacred Hall, and relief swept over.


    She had not let her mind dwell on Ruan the past two days. She couldn¡¯t let herself.


    But now, her mind whirled. What had happened? Why was Ruan here in the temple? Why was he in such pain? The questions lingered with formless speculations that only rattled her further.


    Ava needed sleep. She hardly managed since the attack, no matter how hard she tried. Her mind was growing hazy. She slumped forward, head on the shaman¡¯s desk, and was drifting into blessed oblivion, nearing slumber at last, when the door burst open. The sudden light flared in her vision.


    Footsteps. Shadows.


    A woman¡¯s voice. ¡°Take this to your father.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Malik began.


    ¡°When the Consul is gone, we will decide what to do with the girl. For now, I¡¯d like a moment.¡±


    ¡°Yes, mother.¡±


    Ava had known this was coming. Had waited for it all day. There was no way Malik could keep the secret from his own family forever. And she had a job to do. The knowledge filled her with strength once more.


    The door closed, and darkness swallowed up the room once more.


    Footsteps.


    A hand at Ava¡¯s neck. And the gag fell away from her mouth.


    Ava licked her parched and aching lips.


    ¡°You¡¯re the shaman¡¯s wife.¡± Ava¡¯s voice croaked.


    ¡°Clearly,¡± the woman said pensively.


    A second chair creaked as the woman took a seat. Without even the flick of flints, a small flame ignited from the woman¡¯s palm, and a lantern on the table sparked to life.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Ava said. She tried to sound warm, casual, but it came out stiff.


    She was so exhausted.


    The woman nodded. ¡°Not many, even of my people, can create flames from the elements themselves.¡±


    Ava could sense a deeper meaning in the words. The woman was probing, the same as she was.


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    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Ava asked.


    ¡°Because you¡¯ve convinced my son¡ªand by extension, my husband¡ªthat our people should leave our home. Because you and your father brought this fate upon us. And now, it falls on me to decide what to do with you.¡±


    ¡°Are you a shaman too?¡±


    The woman chuckled darkly. ¡°In truth, I thought you¡¯d be more charming.¡±


    Ava shrugged, then grimaced as her bonds tightened around her wrists at the movement. ¡°It¡¯s been a long couple of days.¡±


    The woman raised her brow. ¡°Why are you sweating so? It¡¯s quite cool in here.¡±


    Ava reached out subtly with her magic, trying to get a read on this woman. A mental wall shot up, and Ava jolted back in her seat.


    ¡°Get out of my head, girl,¡± the mother said.


    ¡°Sorry¡­¡±


    ¡°You were friends with the Pelasius boy.¡±


    Ava nodded.


    ¡°My husband and son are both shamans. I know the look when someone else¡¯s pain becomes too much to bear.¡±


    ¡°Is he¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯ll live. No thanks to your father and his¡­ allies.¡±


    ¡°Ruan was a good friend,¡± Ava said.


    ¡°Not good enough, it would seem.¡±


    Ava grimaced. ¡°It grieves me to know he was injured.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve met more than one woman like you in my life.¡±


    ¡°A Valucian?¡±


    ¡°A wind catcher.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what we call someone like you. A manipulator. You had that Pelasius boy wrapped around your finger. Even a casual observer could tell that at the festival alone. You used him to get where you needed. And now, you¡¯re using my son.¡±


    ¡°Is it using someone to show them a mutually beneficial path?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve proven convincing enough for my son. But I don¡¯t see it. I think you¡¯re full of shit, Ava Rykus.¡±


    Ava¡¯s body tensed, and more aches shot up her wrists, but her bad hip from sitting idle for two days.


    ¡°I I don¡¯t want to see any harm come to your people, that is why¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tell the truth.¡±


    ¡°Madam, I¡ª¡±


    ¡°My name is Madri. And I don¡¯t believe you¡¯re sorry about any of this. You sent my people¡¯s world reeling, and now, you expect us to leave our home so you can lay waste to our most sacred valley. And I don¡¯t think you give a damn about us, any more than you ever cared for that Attican boy.¡±


    Ava straightened up. ¡°You know nothing about me!¡±


    Madri smiled darkly. ¡°Enlighten me, Ava Rykus. Tell me more about your contrived condolences.¡±


    Ava felt a shift in the woman¡¯s mind. She was lowering her mental walls. ¡°Madri, that won¡¯t be¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you afraid, girl?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, you should be.¡±


    The walls receded at once and images flooded into Ava¡¯s vision in an onslaught.


    Running through the streets of the village. People screaming. Hideous creatures darting overhead. Fear tore at her gut. Oh gods, where were her children?


    A little Faltari girl cowered against a door, tears streaming. But it was not her child. And she filled with agony, wishing to help, wanting to fight, needing to find her gods-damned children.


    The images changed.


    A Morph swooped over the village square snatching someone high up and into the air. Terror filled her spirit.


    Gods, was that¡ª


    The young man soared twenty feet into the air, thrashing wildly. Then plummeted.


    Head thudded on the cobblestone ground.


    The vision shifted, and Ruan lay on a wooden table. Bloodshot eyes shot open. Ruan shrieked, body jolting with spasms. Fear and pain permeated Ava¡¯s mind as though it were her own.


    So much fear.


    So much confusion and hurt and sorrow.


    The vision faded, and Madri stood over her.


    Tears streamed down Ava¡¯s face. It had been years since she¡¯d let herself cry. All her childhood, Ava prided herself on being able to withstand anything. The ridicule of her Attican peers. The pressure of infiltrating the academy and all the bloody secrets. The tragedy that had swallowed up her mother.


    But the tears burst forth from some hidden spring in her soul, and Ava could not hold them back.


    This was her fault.


    It did not matter how just her cause, Ruan had been caught in the crossfire of her family¡¯s rebellion. She had done this to him.


    And the walls she¡¯d maintained for so long began to sink into the earth.


    ¡°I feel more than most,¡± Madri said. ¡°Perhaps you know something of what this is like.¡±


    Ava¡¯s body shook. She couldn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°In my experience, it manifests in one of two ways. I take on the fears and emotions of others. This serves my people well as the wife of a shaman. But you... you¡¯ve learned the opposite. You¡¯ve learned to transcend your own feelings. To use your gifts to twist the thoughts and feelings of others. To seduce and manipulate. To get your way.¡±


    The tears kept coming. Ava¡¯s entire body shuddered with sobs.


    Madri seized her by the chin, and Ava felt all the woman¡¯s anxiety, all her anger.


    ¡°No more lies. No more manipulations. Show me who you really are.¡±

 40 - Questions and Answers

    The castle within this strange portal world was as old as the building upon the floating mountains back on the other side. Chunks of stone were missing from stark black pillars. One passage had completely collapsed. Perhaps the result of time, or some ancient conflict.


    Was this fortress built by the Valucians or someone else? And for what purpose?


    Riese was filled with questions as she followed Rykus and the Morphs down its winding passages. But she did not dare voice them now.


    The interior of the fortress had been restored to some extent. The inner halls had been cleared of rubble and overgrowth, and the central courtyard was breathtakingly beautiful. The castle might only be a rebel hideout now, but some of the revolutionaries had taken care to create some beauty. The courtyard paths were lined with flowers and greenery, and an alien plant that hovered a foot off the ground.


    They¡¯d just crossed from another world through a portal set in mountains that hovered thousands of feet above the sea. Yet, something about the plants unnerved her. Riese had grown up seeing the Spires every year at the end of summer, but floating vegetation with no roots buried in the earth?


    It was perhaps the greatest reminder that this wasn¡¯t her world, or even the Abyss.It was someplace else entirely, and the ramifications of this nagged at her gut the way it felt to look down over the side of a cliff.


    But there was hish in this place. Hish emanating from the floating plants themselves, and in that, Riese found a little comfort. That and the soft reassurances brushing up against her spirit from the egg in her hands.


    You are where you¡¯re meant to be. You¡¯re destiny.


    The voice did not feel like her own. But it didn¡¯t quite feel like it belonged to the dragon either. It was somehow both and neither.


    Rykus and Deven hurried across the garden courtyard, and Riese nearly had to run to keep up with them. Dozens of rebels bustled about the castle, halting activities as they passed. Most of them were Valucian or Chardonian at a glance. But not all.


    A resonance of fear hung over them all. Worried faces, hasty movements, hushed voices.


    They crossed the courtyard and entered a wide antechamber. At the other end, tall wooden doors were guarded by a pair of Valucian soldiers with lances resting at their shoulders. Deven hurried past them, but Rykus stopped and turned to face Riese.


    ¡°You¡¯ve a decision to make, Riese Torendeil. In a world of war, there is little time for deliberation. We must move forward with the character and resolve to make life-altering decisions in a moment.¡±


    ¡°Like choosing to leave your daughter behind on the battlefield?¡± Riese asked.


    Rykus¡¯s jaw tensed. He had managed incredible steadiness despite his daughter¡¯s unknown fate. Despite the destruction of his island home, and the sudden attack on his Chardonian allies.


    But at her words, Rykus showed fear and uncertainty for the first time since Riese had met him.


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    Rykus held her gaze and nodded. ¡°The cause must always come first. My daughter and I knew that long before we ever heard of Faltara. This is a fork in your path, Riese. Everything in your life will be marked by what you choose. For all our sakes, I hope you choose the right path.¡±


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t?¡±


    Rykus sighed. ¡°A part of you still thinks we will kill you if you don¡¯t give us what we ask for. But in truth, if you don¡¯t aid our plans, this secret hideout will matter no more now than it did in the Uprising. Our revolution will die before it¡¯s begun. Our only hope is cutting off Attica¡¯s source of power.¡±


    ¡°Cutting off?¡±


    Chills coursed through her, amplified by the power of the egg in her hands. Riese¡¯s body thrummed with magic.


    Rykus nodded. ¡°Dragons are not native to our world, as I expect you know. Only a few people still hold on to this knowledge. Only a few still remember the truth about the Crossing. We did not arrive in ?rith¨¨a across land and sea. We came from another world.¡±


    Rykus gestured out a small window, toward purple skies rising over distant peaks.


    ¡°From here?¡± Riese asked.


    Captain Rykus nodded. ¡°Well, not so much from here as through here. But not only here as I expect you know. For we came from many lands. In the wake of a great and terrible calamity.¡±


    ¡°How could we have crossed through a gate hovering in the middle of the sea?¡± Riese asked.


    ¡°After the Crossing, I believe all the gates were moved. Or destroyed. Burn the ships so that all would remain committed to creating a new world. Most of the gates don¡¯t work any longer, it is said.¡±


    ¡°How many are there?¡±


    ¡°There is no telling. I know of three. This one. Another in Elya. And now, one on Faltara. Which may be the most important of them all.¡±


    Riese understood his meaning. She hesitated, running her fingers over the smooth ridges of dragon scales in her hands. She could feel the spirit within, pressing against her own. It was not hish. Perhaps it was the power of the dragon¡¯s spirit itself. She was not quite sure, but she sensed something more.


    Rykus stepped closer, pulling a glowing runemarked key from his pocket. He motioned for Riese to turn around.


    In a rush, as the magic collar was removed, she felt magic surge back into her spirit. The resonance of the egg grew even stronger now.


    ¡°My people,¡± Riese said, ¡°we believe that all peoples of our world came from the Abyss. From a fallen cursed world. That is where our Gate leads.¡±


    ¡°To the¡­ Abyss.¡± Rykus raised a brow as he spoke the words.


    ¡°We believe we were entrusted by the All Mother and All Father, to safeguard the powers that destroyed that fallen world. But in reality, it seems, we were enabling the sort of destruction that was unleashed on your island. I see that now. I can hardly close my eyes without imagining innocent people engulfed in dragon flames. My people made a terrible mistake, Captain Rykus. And I fear making another like it.¡±


    Rykus nodded. ¡°That deliberation is how Deven and I bot knew you could be trusted, Riese. Why we did not fear bringing you here.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not your servant, is she?¡±


    Rykus smiled. ¡°We are all servants of the cause in this place.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s Elyan.¡±


    Rykus nodded. ¡°The time will come for more questions, but for now, it is the time for an answer.¡±


    Riese felt at her neck where the collar had been. Felt the surge of magic coursing through her body once more. The bond she felt with her dragon intensifying. She could practically hear it speaking to her. Urging her toward her destiny. Toward a new, uncertain future.


    ¡°I will tell you where the Gate on Faltara is hidden,¡± Riese said. As she spoke she felt a great weight lift from her spirit. A spark of joy burst from the egg, as though it were a child flipping and kicking in her own womb.


    Rykus showed no joy. ¡°I must ask more of you than that, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°So long as there is a way to reach the Gate, your island will never be safe. It will be taken over, become a secret base for the empire. If we struck now, perhaps we could hold it for a time. That might give our revolution strength, but I fear, it would bring our demise.¡±


    Riese¡¯s voice trembled as she spoke. It came out barely a whisper. ¡°What are you asking of me, Captain Rykus?¡±


    ¡°I need you to take me to the Gate of the Ancients. So we can destroy it.¡±

 41 - Dreamsmoke

    Joren inspected his work one last time. The boy Ruan was stable at last. Unconscious, having brushed up against death itself, but he would live, Joren felt confident about that, judging the strength in his spirit. And that was all that mattered.


    Thick bandages were wrapped around his skull, shaggy hair sticking out at the edges, though the back was entirely shaved. The dreamsmoke had settled in the room now, and for the first time in an hour, Joren felt only his own pain and exhaustion. The procedure had taken a spiritual toll greater than any he¡¯d performed in years.


    Urla rested her head on her son¡¯s chest. With eyes struggling to remain open, she watched his tranquil face, the cadence of his breathing.


    Joren moved around the table to give them space, but Urla seized hold of his wrist.


    ¡°Was it enough, shaman?¡± Her voice was barely a whisper.


    She didn¡¯t know it, but Joren was certain the boy would not have survived the procedure if his mother had not been present. Which explained the level of her exhaustion. As he neared death, the boy¡¯s spirit had lashed out, as spirits often did, searching for strength, anything to keep them tethered to the only world they knew.


    Ruan¡¯s spirit latched onto his mother¡¯s, drew on her strength. It had nearly taken her to the brink of death herself.


    ¡°Yes, Lady Consul, I believe it was enough,¡± Joren answered. ¡°But first, he must rest. And so must you.¡±


    Few in this world understood the true power of a parent¡¯s love. It was tangible, spiritual. Ruan had drawn on Joren¡¯s spirit too, along with the rest of his family¡¯s, but only Urla Pelasius could have offered what her son required.


    But she too would be fine. With rest.


    Joren smiled at her. For all the differences between Faltara and Attica¡ªor Taika or Valucia, or anywhere else¡ªthey were not so different. This had been his greatest lesson during his Wandering. It was good to be reminded of it once more, now, of all times.


    The woman looked up to him with pleading eyes, loving and grateful eyes. ¡°Thank you shaman. Truly.¡±


    Joren squeezed her hand. ¡°Children bear far too much of the burdens of war. Any chance the gods give me to relieve it is a chance I thank them gladly for.¡±


    Urla pondered this. ¡°You¡¯ve seen war before.¡±


    ¡°Sadly, yes. I left Faltara for a time. It¡¯s a bit of a tradition among our most restless youths. We leave, experience some of the depravity of the southern world. Nearly all return soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Which war was it?¡±


    ¡°I was¡­ conscripted by the Taikans. Served as a healer.¡±


    ¡°The Taikan Rebellion was my first campaign,¡± Urla said somberly. ¡°And one of the fiercest campaigns I ever experienced. The Good Emperor had yet to unite the Dragon Lords. They were hoping he¡¯d fail.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the fighting was brutal,¡± Joren said. ¡°I tended many spirits as they passed to the World Beyond. The memories have never left me. But I saved many lives as well, and for that, I am grateful to the gods.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that you were only a healer in the way, shaman. I saw the way you fought against those shapeshifters.¡±


    ¡°No one is just a healer in war. Certainly not amongst the Taikan.¡±


    ¡°They were far more tactical than expected. The Attican generals underestimated them. I learned later that the campaign lasted a year longer than necessary because of their poor judgment at the outset. They thought them mere barbarians. Nomads. Hunters. I¡¯ve never seen a cavalry so united. And the Dragonmounts were sparse at the time without the support of the Dragon Lords. If Vitruvian hadn¡¯t led the air assault himself, I wonder if we would have won. Attica may have fractured entirely. How different the world would be.¡±


    ¡°It was another life,¡± Joren said, pushing back gruesome memories. ¡°I try my best not to go back.¡±


    Urla sighed. ¡°Would that war still disturbed me the way it did then. I¡¯ve seen too much bloodshed, shaman. Even at my own husband¡¯s death¡­ I could not find tears even for him.¡±


    ¡°Do you regret your path, Consul?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± Her voice drifted, eyes closed.


    Joren wasn¡¯t sure he believed her, but she said no more.


    ¡°You should go, Lady,¡± Joren said. ¡°Sleep. Your son will not wake until morning, the tinctures will make sure of that. And you¡¯ve an important task ahead tomorrow. And a long march.¡±


    ¡°No, I should¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your son is safe, Urla. There is nothing more you can do tonight.¡±


    Urla nodded and managed to rise with a great degree of effort. She crossed the room but paused at the door. ¡°I meant what I said. I do not wish any more harm to come to your people.¡±


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    ¡°I believe you,¡± Joren said. ¡°But you more than anyone knows that war cares nothing for our wishes. I must spare who I can, which is why I must lead my people away from this place.¡±


    Urla hesitated. Joren could sense a turmoil in her spirit, though he was too weak to make sense of it just now. ¡°Good night, Lady Consul.¡±


    Urla left.


    Joren did one last inspection, monitoring Ruan¡¯s breathing and pulse, as well as his spiritual resonance. It was much steadier now, despite all he¡¯d endured. He was fully tethered to this world once more.


    He burned a prayer of thanks and turned to leave, only to find Malik, standing in the door where Urla had been moments ago.


    His son¡¯s expression was hard to read, though his spirit was unsettled.


    ¡°I know you think the Atticans are the enemy,¡± Joren said.


    ¡°And you don¡¯t?¡±


    Joren chuckled. ¡°Oh, I know they¡¯re the enemy. I¡¯ve seen the empire do far worse things than anything that¡¯s occurred here.¡±


    ¡°On your uhmskara.¡±


    Joren nodded.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever speak of it, father?¡±


    ¡°Because my experience of the outside world only further complicated my already complex understanding of the world. And you were not ready.¡±


    Malik scowled. ¡°I came of age. I¡¯m a bloody shaman, now. When else would I have been ready?¡±


    ¡°You needed to sort out your own beliefs. I did not wish to sway you. And son, you¡¯ve done better than I could have dreamed.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Malik¡¯s eyes welled with tears.


    Joren had been hard on his son for two long years. It had been necessary. After his brother¡¯s death, Malik had needed to learn to be strong. It had been pained Joren every moment. Each day wondering if he was failing. As a shaman, a father.


    Joren strode over to Malik and pulled him into an embrace.


    ¡°You had the courage to speak truth. To me. To the council. To all our people. I¡¯m so proud of you, son.¡±


    Malik sobbed into his chest, and Joren held him tight.


    It was sometime before Malik released him. There was a tremor in his spirit.


    ¡°Father, there is one more truth I need to speak.¡±


    ***


    ¡°And¡­ you believe her?¡± Joren asked when Malik had finished.


    In the quiet of the Sacred Hall of the temple, Joren, Malik, and Madri stood before the Valucian rebel.


    A coil of rope bindings were spread on the floor, beside a leathern leg brace. Ava Rykus sat calmly in the chair, hands propped on Joren¡¯s desk.


    Madri nodded to him. ¡°The girl speaks truth. I feel it in my spirit.¡±


    Ava¡¯s eyes were heavy, cheeks flushed. She looked to have been crying, but she was perfectly even-keeled now.


    ¡°If my father can get to your Gate before the Atticans, we can end their rule.¡±


    ¡°You told her of the Gate of the Ancients?¡±


    Malik shook his head. ¡°She knew already. Or at least had a very good suspicion.¡±


    ¡°Or she peered into your mind, son. She¡¯s skilled with cerebral magic.¡±


    ¡°Malik is right,¡± Madri said. ¡°The girl has seen a Gate like ours before. She showed it to me. A Valucian secret known only to a select few.¡±


    If there was another Gate, then theirs could not be the only path of the Crossing, just as other nations claimed. Another Gate was proof that their foundational myths were incomplete at best.


    ¡°Where?¡± Joren asked.


    ¡°In the Ever Sea,¡± Ava said.


    Joren shook his head. ¡°Are there more Gates than that?¡±


    Ava shrugged. ¡°My father says so. In other remote parts of the world.¡±


    ¡°Like Elya?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Ava shrugged. ¡°But I¡¯ve only ever seen ours.¡±


    ¡°You wish to destroy the gate?¡± Joren said. ¡°There is a faction of our people who have proposed this same thing for years. But the proposal has always been dismissed.¡±


    ¡°And look where that¡¯s gotten you.¡±


    Madri shot Ava a hard glare.


    The girl nodded. ¡°Sorry. Sometimes my mouth speaks before I do.¡±


    Joren smirked. He sensed the flash of hish brushing up against his spirit, knew the girl was subtly trying to impress charm. Ava was good at it, he had to give her that. But he sensed sincerity, and if Madri¡ªwhose intuition was leagues beyond his own¡ªfelt the same, then the matter was settled.


    ¡°I was left here to prepare for what¡¯s to come,¡± Ava said.


    ¡°When will the rebels return?¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°With an army?¡±


    Ava¡¯s mouth twisted. ¡°The Atticans wish you to believe that we would turn your island into a battlefield. They may even truly believe it themselves. But we do not have an army. Not yet. The Valucian kingdoms fear another uprising, no matter their hatred of Attica. We have only a small company to carry out this mission. But if we succeed¡­. If we do cut off the Attican Empire from their source of power, that could raise a true army.¡±


    ¡°What of the Elyans?¡± asked Joren.


    ¡°We have one runeship. The same as Siga had.¡±


    ¡°And those Morph creatures?¡± Malik asked.


    ¡°Okay, not exactly the same as Siga. But they are not Elyan exactly.¡±


    Joren raised a brow. The girl was still holding things back.


    ¡°Do you want us to trust you, or don¡¯t you?¡± Joren asked.


    ¡°The Elyans are concerned about the growing threat that Attica poses under Athanasius¡¯s reign.My father has learned Elyan magic, taught it to me all through my childhood. Taught me to enter minds. To cover up my tracks. To work my way amongst the enemy just as he¡¯s done all my life. The Morphs are a twist of Elyan and dark blood-magic practiced by Beirusian witches. My father has gained other allies across the world. Chardonians. Valgs. Taikan. All fear Attica is on the brink of dominion over all ?rith¨¨a. And that would forever alter our world. And this is what most concerns the Elyans, I expect.¡±


    ¡°The empire has ruled ?rith¨¨a before,¡± Joren said softly. He did not believe the dismissive words he spoke, but he wanted to see how Ava reacted. ¡°Why is this time so different?¡±


    Ava drew a breath. ¡°Because Emperor Athanasius is different than his predecessors. Many fear another Age of Fire is descending once more. As well they should. We have not forgotten the devastation the Dragonmounts wreaked in Valucia.¡±


    Joren had not forgotten imperial devastation either. But he had also seen the fruitless toll of rebellion. Taika¡¯s people suffered more now, than perhaps ever before.


    Ava was pressing on his mind, and he did not hold back from her. He pictured the slaughter in the Taikan rebellion. Hundreds of thousands slain. An entire city burned with dragonfire. Most rebels died instantly. The few who survived wished they¡¯d joined their brethren in instant death.


    Joren could still smell the charred flesh, picture the vacuous eyes, hairless skulls, limbs stripped to the bone by flames. He could hear the screams of the desperate dying, as he tended their wounds, knowing it was already too late.


    For years, Attica declared the Scorching a necessary evil to bring peace.


    And it had brought peace for a time.


    For a decade, there was no more rebellion in the empire. Other resisting nations surrendered. Attica united. And Emperor Vitruvian became known as the Good Emperor, the Uniter. The Peacebringer.


    After his death, war returned.


    Athanasius had proven perhaps less ruthless, but undoubtedly more ambitious. And all knew his predecessor¡¯s heinous act was not out of reach. It was the fear of what Joren experienced in Taika that ruled the world now, that quelled rebellion, that prevented nations from banding together.


    For so long, Joren had told himself Attica was a necessary evil. Better for them to rule than for another Scorching. But he had been wrong. All of them had. He saw that now.


    ¡°What would you have us do?¡± Joren asked.

 42 - Another Path

    ¡°You will need to remain here awhile longer,¡± the shaman instructed Ava.


    ¡°In this secret room. By myself?¡±


    Ava was so tired of being locked up. So tired of talking and convincing, when there was action to be had. It felt like the tale of her entire bloody existence.


    ¡°Tul Eriksein and a few of others will be leading the Attican company to the Spires in a few hours,¡± the shaman said. ¡°I¡¯ve already recused myself from the situation and must lead our people to safety as I intended.¡±


    Madri clasped her son¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Surel will go with you. Malik and I will join the company heading to the Spires.¡±


    Malik nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll volunteer to serve as shaman, at least until the Attican mission is complete.¡±


    ¡°I must go too!¡± Ava said. ¡°I¡¯ll follow in the woods or something.¡±


    Joren looked at her skeptically, eyes drifting to the leg brace in the corner.


    ¡°I¡¯ve covered worse terrain in the academy trials.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t doubt your ability, Ava,¡± Madri said.


    ¡°Everyone doubts my ability,¡± she said, trying to hold back the venom she felt. ¡°I can keep up with a marching regiment, I promise you. We don¡¯t know when my father will find you. I should be there! You saw my father fly.¡±


    ¡°Can you fly?¡± asked Joren.


    Her mouth twisted. ¡°I can cover ground when I must.¡±


    The shaman shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve entrusted the future of your rebellion to us. Now, you must trust us.¡±


    ¡°And if something goes wrong?¡± Ava demanded. ¡°I¡¯ll just be trapped in this fucking safe room?¡±


    ¡°Only until after the Atticans march up the Soul Road,¡± said Joren. ¡°Then we¡¯ll find a way to smuggle you aboard one of our ships.¡±


    Ava hated being left out, but she had no good argument, and her manipulations were useless on the shaman and his wife. She could only hope her father would turn up before they sailed to Valgland.


    ¡°When will your father return?¡± asked Madri.


    Ava grimaced. In truth, she did not know. Perhaps he was in the woods somewhere, waiting for the right moment. Perhaps something had gone terribly wrong. But she couldn¡¯t give voice to any of that.


    ¡°He will return at the right moment,¡± Ava insisted. ¡°I was left to convince you of our cause. Whether it is down here or up in your Spires, my father will find a way.¡±


    Joren¡¯s brow furrowed. She could sense unease in his mind. ¡°You said this other Gate is out over the Ever Sea. Even by runeship, the journey there and back must certainly take days.¡±


    ¡°He will be here in time,¡± Ava insisted. ¡°We have to be ready.¡±


    ***


    The rebel council consisted of Lord Rykus, the Sky Captain Verina Arkhovia, a dark-haired woman with piercing dark eyes, a brown-skinned man with flowing dark hair, and Deven l¨¨ Nir. The strange woman was Taikan, she wore a modest but regal gown of intricate material, embroidered with twirling shapes of flying birds. She looked like someone who had never seen the broad edge of a sword, let alone a battle. The man was Chardonian. His robes many colorful layers, like the feathers of serpent. His sleeveless tunic revealed broad shoulders and muscular arms, etched with faint tattoos.


    Deven wore a trim white uniform with a crest of black Morph wings. Her Elyan uniform. Her violet eyes flashed, and her silver hair flowed in waves past her shoulders. Her sleeves were short, revealing strong arms etched with tattoos. She stood tall. Powerful, captivating.


    A crudely drawn map was spread across the table at the center of the council chamber.


    Rykus gestured to a circular marking at the end of a long squiggle. ¡°That¡¯s Yerida.¡±


    ¡°This is¡­ Faltara?¡± Riese asked.


    It was so strange to see the forests and coastlines of her girlhood reduced to some brushes of ink on parchment. The words meant nothing to Riese.


    The map spanned the entire table, though most of the island contained empty space, showing just how little was known about Faltara from the outside world. There were four other thick circles, presumably the four clan villages, and a vague mountain range along the spine.


    Riese had never seen a map of the entire island before. Knowledge of the coastlines was necessary for the fishing folk, but for a hunter from the Jackal clan, knowledge of the forests and mountains of the heartland was all that mattered. She traced her fingers over the patterns. No hunting tracks. No landmarks. These squiggles meant little to her, though the fjord near Yerida looked to be reasonably accurate. Made sense.


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    ¡°This was drawn by our navigator during the journey from the island,¡± Rykus said. ¡°He estimated the island is roughly fifty leagues in length, maybe twenty across at the heart. Does that sound accurate?¡±


    Riese chuckled and shrugged. ¡°No idea, I¡¯m afraid. We hunters learn the land in our minds.¡±


    The other council members grimaced, but Rykus remained cool as he went on.


    ¡°The general shape of this map we stole from a Beirusian trader. But traders only deal with the southern passage between Faltara and the uninhabited northern regions of Valgland. The northern part of Faltara is largely a mystery.¡±


    Riese nodded. ¡°It¡¯s not well-known to many of us either, outside the Saber clan.¡± She pointed to the top of the island, which was rounded. ¡°The fishers called this the Tip of the Spear. But that looks like little more than a nub.¡±


    ¡°A Beirusian ship circumnavigated the island many years ago, but the trip was nearly perilous, so I don¡¯t expect it¡¯s very accurate. But this interior is more detailed than any other depiction I¡¯ve encountered.¡±


    Riese shook her head, surveying the squiggles supposedly demarcating the heart of the island she knew so well. None of it looked like the Faltara she knew.


    ¡°Which village is Starholm?¡± Riese asked. ¡°The Dragyr village?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell?¡± asked the Taikan woman, whose name Riese had gathered, was Shei.


    ¡°I can¡¯t read,¡± Riese said. ¡°Again, little use for a hunter. I can tell you these mountains are nowhere near accurate. All the mountains and valleys look the same. Where¡¯s the Dawn Crag? The Mountain of Souls? Where¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re hoping you can assist with some of the details.¡± Rykus gestured to a region of forest near the middle of the southern island. ¡°That is Starholm.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s too far north,¡± Riese said. ¡°It should be closer to Yerida. There¡¯s a whole valley that runs south along the foothills of the Narrow Peaks. There¡¯s a break in the spine of the island, somewhere around here.¡± She gestured to a point between Yerida and Starholm.


    ¡°Do you know the distance?¡± Rykus asked.


    Riese shook her head. ¡°A stag rider could cover it in a day during the summer. Several days in early winter. Impossible later.¡±


    ¡°And how would a stag¡¯s pace compare with a horse?¡± asked the Taikan woman.


    ¡°Never seen a horse.¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t have horses anyway, Shei,¡± said Rykus.


    The woman huffed, crossing her arms.


    The Sky Captain leaned close, studying everything with intense focus.


    ¡°And this circle?¡± Riese gestured to one at the edge of a river on the eastern side of the island. ¡°I assume that¡¯s River¡¯s End?¡±


    Rykus nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a day¡¯s ride from my village, but that looks farther than Yerida.¡±


    ¡°Look, we know this is hasty guesswork,¡± Rykus said. ¡°But let¡¯s try our best.¡±


    ¡°We need to know where these Spires are located with as much accuracy as possible,¡± Verina Arhkovia insisted.


    Riese grimaced. ¡°It is a relatively similar distance from each of the main clan villages, so knowing where you think our main villages are located on this map matters.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a path out of Yerida, correct?¡± Rykus asked.


    Riese nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a path from all villages. We call it the Soul Road.¡±


    ¡°How far from Yerida?¡± asked Verina.


    Riese shrugged. ¡°A two day journey with women and children and a dozen alkine carts.¡±


    ¡°Alkine?¡± asked Mathias, the Chardonian man.


    ¡°Something between a sheep and a stag, isn¡¯t that right?¡± Rykus asked.


    Riese chuckled. ¡°Never seen a sheep either, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Deven smirked.


    Riese peered at the map. All the mountains looked the same. These people truly had no idea where any of the major peaks or valleys were located. The entire interior of her homeland was just a mass of trees and peaks to them.


    ¡°Do you have a quill?¡± Riese asked. A servant fetched one and a small well of ink.


    ¡°Thought you said you couldn¡¯t read or write,¡± Shei said.


    Riese rolled her eyes. ¡°I can draw.¡±


    She stretched out toward the middle of the table, and began to sweep the quill over the ill-defined mountains, trying to imagine the path from Yerida.


    ¡°There¡¯s a valley up here,¡± Riese said. ¡°Huge walls of unclimbable stone. Maybe half the distance from Yerida. All the village paths converge here. About halfway through that valley, there is a small¡­ nook. Near a wide mountain that looks like a woman lying on her back.¡±


    ¡°Lying on her¡­¡± Shei said.


    ¡°There¡¯s a section that resembles a head, nose, sharp drop, and then there¡¯s two big rounder mounds. I trust you get it. My mum says all the first chieftains were men, so¡­¡±


    Deven smirked again as Riese updated the map with a womanly figured mountain. ¡°You Faltari are primitive.¡±


    Riese caught a flash in her eye.


    ¡°And then?¡± Verina asked.


    ¡°The nook passes through the mountain to another valley, then, up through a forest of snowpine. There¡¯s a final pass between the tallest peaks somewhere around here, I¡¯d guess.¡±


    Riese marked them on the map. ¡°It¡¯s not actually right there, because this map is terrible, but somewhere around there is a valley. The tallest peaks are on the western side of the range. So, you¡¯d fly over those to reach¡ª¡±


    ¡°We thought the tallest peaks on the island were further north,¡± said Mathias.


    Riese rolled her eyes. ¡°Maybe. We rarely venture past Skarida. That¡¯s wild sabercat territory beyond, and the terrain would be impossible to navigate with carts. Anyway, the peaks of Kalengal Valley are not the tallest in the range. It¡¯s the heart of the island because of the Mountain of Souls. ¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Rykus drew back from the table.


    Verina studied the map in silence for sometime. ¡°If that¡¯s so, then, we flew right over that region on our way to Yerida. But I don¡¯t recall anything resembling these Spires.¡±


    Riese shrugged. ¡°I doubt you would have noticed them unless you knew they were there. They look like any ordinary peak unless you¡¯re in the valley.¡±


    ¡°We were flying at night, as well,¡± Deven said.


    Verina studied Riese for a moment. ¡°Young lady, the hope of our entire cause lies in your hands.¡±


    ¡°Believe me, I¡¯ve realized that,¡± Riese said. ¡°Look, you brought me here. You asked what I know and I¡¯ve said it. That¡¯s where the Spires are. And that¡¯s where you¡¯ll find the Gate to the Abyss. The rest is up to you.¡±


    ¡°The girl is right,¡± said Rykus. ¡°Chardonia is already threatened.¡±


    Mathias grimaced, but nodded. ¡°I must take our Morphs to aid our own war effort as soon as we finish deliberations.¡±


    ¡°Taika loathes Attica,¡± Shei said, ¡°but there will be no chance at raising forces without a reasonable chance of victory.¡±


    ¡°Until after this mission has succeeded,¡± Verina clarified.


    ¡°The akiri are insistent,¡± Shei said. ¡°Taika lost everything in the last war. No one here could ever truly understand the devastation we endured. You all know only tales of a true Firestorm.¡±


    Rykus nodded solemnly. ¡°This is our window of opportunity. We will need to use every resource we have to make sure we do not fail.¡±


    Deven¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°The Rebelmounts?¡±

 43 - Deep Down

    Joren¡¯s spirit was light for the first time in ages. Madri and their children dozed peacefully in the main prayer hall, catching a few hours of slumber before what might prove to be the most consequential day of all their lives.


    For a long time, he simply lay there listening to their breathing, grateful to be alive, to love and be loved. Grateful to be relieved of a burden that had been weighing down his spirit more than he¡¯d even realized. Until that burden was lifted.


    Yet there was no way Joren could sleep. It always seemed to happen this way before such fateful days. Before his first hunt. Before his Ascent. His first battle in Taika. The day he wed Madri. His mind simply would not still.


    As the first hints of dawn drew near, he roused himself, and went to check on the Pelasius boy. Ruan still slept deeply, but his spirit remained firmly tethered to this world.


    Dimly, Joren could sense he was not the only one unable to sleep.


    After checking Ruan¡¯s bandages, he made his way to the Sacred Hall. Runes glowed at his touch, and the door eased open.


    Ava Rykus looked up from her seat at his desk. She was not bound any longer, but the bedroll Madri had provided sat rolled up and untouched on the floor.


    ¡°I trust I¡¯m not disturbing you,¡± Joren said softly.


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    He sensed she was still upset about being left out of the action. She perked up when he set her cane on the desk.


    ¡°Held onto this after the attack. Not sure if it was just a ruse in the first place, but thought you might want it.¡±


    Ava ran her fingers over the handle, pressed the lever, and the blade shot out. She pressed another spot on the head along with the lever, and the blade retracted. She smiled, but offered no answer about whether it had been a ruse. ¡°Thank you, shaman.¡±


    ¡°Thought I¡¯d pack a few things, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Ava shrugged, still slumped over the desk.


    Joren stepped to her side, waiting.


    ¡°Oh, er, inside the desk, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Ava scooted the chair back, and sat once more, watching him curiously, the cane draped over her lap.


    Joren began with the drawers, removing old ledgers and journals from shamans past. There was a hollowed-out tube of southern balsam wood that contained the original spell knowledge brought over from the Dying World. Copies were made long ago, as the original scroll was nearly illegible now, but it was perhaps the most sacred item in the room. That and one other scroll.


    He moved to the shelf. Once again, Ava silently shifted out of his way. Using a stool, he reached for a small chest at the top. The runes marking the exterior glowed, and a mechanism clicked as he set the chest down on the desk.


    Ava drew closer, looking over his shoulder with curiosity.


    Joren opened the chest and lifted out a folded sheet of leather. Gingerly, he spread it wide on the desk, and Ava drew closer.


    There were careful etchings burned into the surface. It was remarkably preserved for something so ancient. All long lines and squares.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Ava asked.


    ¡°I expect it is the best shot your rebellion has,¡± Joren said, pointing to several oval shapes marked throughout. ¡°This is a map of the world beyond the Gate. Only shamans have ever seen it until now. Even my son doesn¡¯t yet know it exists.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t he a shaman too?¡±


    ¡°Yes, well, we¡¯ve had a busy time of late.¡±


    ¡°Those shapes¡­ they¡¯re dragon eggs, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°They are the dragon temples of the Dead City of Adria. The place my people claim to have fled centuries ago. The city is littered with nests¡ªdozens of them, maybe hundreds¡ªmost are now claimed by smaller dragyrs. Our best guess is that dragons took over the city after it was abandoned, but slowly died off in the years that followed.¡±


    What could kill off so many dragons?¡±


    ¡°Our history of the Crossing suggests a great catastrophe that changed the spiritual nature of the world itself. A fearsome power that infected the soul of the world itself. Perhaps this is the reason there are so many eggs, and no living dragons. Dragyrs nest there but bring their eggs through to our world to hatch and live in our world. The dragon nests are the easiest to find now. Most of our children have taken eggs from these nests, though they are beginning to grow scarcer. But there are a few temples where dozens of eggs are kept in one place.¡±


    ¡°Dragon temples,¡± Ava said. ¡°So, our ancestors worshipped them?¡±


    ¡°The past is difficult to parse out from the histories, but I don¡¯t believe so. From what I can gather, humanity saw dragons as messengers from the gods.¡±


    ¡°Like the Elyan cherubs?¡± Ava asked.


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    Joren smiled. ¡°I know little of Elya, I¡¯m afraid. But, it is relatively clear that the fate of dragons and humanity was linked in this Dying World. Hatchings stopped. Humanity fled. The dragons died off. How it played out in the end, it is impossible to be certain.¡±


    Ava¡¯s voice deepened. ¡°Why are these temples marked by your shamans?¡±


    ¡°For years, I thought it was just information passed down. Like our spellbooks and histories. Gods know, we shamans love to document things. But now, whether intentionally or not, I believe it is here for this very moment. So that, in a time of dire need, we could turn the empire¡¯s power against them. According to our legends, a Faltari man brought the first dragons to Attica. He used this knowledge for his own gain. And now, we have the opportunity to use it to dismantle that very empire.¡±


    Joren rolled up the map and stowed it in a satchel, which he slung over his shoulders.


    ¡°I have seen the evils of the empire, Miss Rykus. It took me longer than I am proud of to see the right path forward. But I do now, and I will do all I can to see your revolution succeed.¡±


    Ava nodded. ¡°Thank you, shaman.¡±


    The girl glanced away, a disturbance wracking her spirit.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Joren asked.


    She stared at the door, her back to him. A hand drifted to cover her mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I still must insist you stay here until all this is¡ª¡±


    Ava Rykus turned back, tears in her eyes.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Joren said, ¡°suddenly reminded how young she was. How young his own children were to endure all they¡¯d endured these past days. ¡°There¡¯s no need¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that... it¡¯s the boy.¡±


    ¡°Boy?¡±


    ¡°Ruan.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡­ so you were truly close, then.¡±


    ¡°Any relationship with an Attican boy¡­ is complicated. But yes.¡± Ava brushed the tears away and straightened up. ¡°Is he¡­¡±


    ¡°His injuries were grave, dear,¡± Joren said. ¡°But I believe he¡¯ll live.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see him,¡± Ava said.


    ¡°I really can¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°I believe the Valucian cause is just,¡± Ava said. ¡°That it is worth sacrificing everything for. But knowing the toll our rebellion has taken on Ruan... I could feel him, shaman. Through the surgery last night. The fear and turmoil in his mind. The agony. Before you go. Before all this ends. I must see him one last time. Please.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s sleeping, Ava. And even if he were awake¡ª¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t ask if he were awake. I know it would be too great a risk. But I think you, of all people, know that much can be said beyond words. Even beyond consciousness. I betrayed Ruan, nearly killed him. I need to say, I¡¯m sorry. I need him to know. Deep down.¡±


    Joren felt the desperation in her spirit, the regret. A feeling he knew all too well. He couldn¡¯t deny the girl that.


    ¡°It will be dawn soon,¡± he said. ¡°But I can grant you a few moments. Nothing more.¡±


    ***


    Ava followed the shaman out of the Sacred Hall and a short distance down the corridor. With the aid of her brace and the return of her cane, she moved a little easier, though the ache in her leg persisted from being trapped in that room.


    As she walked, she could hear snores echoing from the main hall beyond. Sensed weary spirits. Joren¡¯s family had endured much, and now, they were willing to risk even more to help her cause. She could not let herself think what else they might endure.


    Ava felt guilty for manipulating the shaman.


    But she could not bear the thought of lying in this damn temple, mere feet away from the boy she¡¯d survived the academy with, the boy she cared for despite the vast differences of their upbringings, the boy she had betrayed.


    It was true if she were to do it all again, she would change nothing. But whatever happened today, Ava doubted she would see him again. It was possible he would not even wake before it was over.


    Over the past years, she had impressed many truths on Ruan Pelasius. Yes, they were manipulations, but they were still truths, and he had been open to them.


    Open to befriending a Valucian. Trusting a girl much lower in status than he. Ava would nevver have ascended the way she did in the academy without him. She would never have won Campos¡¯s confidence. Would never have come to Faltara.


    Now, even if he was unconscious, there was one last truth she must convey.


    The shaman opened the door to the healing chamber and stepped inside. A noxious odor wafted out, and Ava paused. On a table, she could see legs jutting out of a pile of blankets.


    Ava stepped into the room.


    All her life, her house had sacrificed for a cause greater than their own family. In secret. While most of their people believed them blood-traitors. Her mum had sacrificed the most of all. And through it, Ava had learned not to allow herself to hold regret.


    It was a useless emotion for someone like her.


    Ava Lucila Rykus did what she must, that was all there was to it.


    She stepped inside.


    The sight of Ruan lying on the shaman¡¯s table wracked her body with tangible anguish, even worse than she¡¯d felt during the operation.


    Last night, she could feel Ruan¡¯s pain, but she could not see just how close to death he had been. His face and neck were a motley display of bruises, purples and yellows mixing to form a sick amalgamation, hair a greasy and matted mess jutting out from a thick bandage that covered the back of his skull and cinched under his chin.


    The shaman hung back in the outer hall, whispering to his wife, who must have stirred when they came out.


    Ava took a seat beside Ruan. The wooden chair creaked as she leaned forward, took Ruan¡¯s hand. His chest rose and fell steadily, though there was a labored wheeze to each breath.


    But his spirit was still as a babe¡¯s.


    Ruan was dreaming. Peaceful dreams.


    Ava did not often peer into dreams with her gifts. Usually, dreams were muddled and confusing, making it impossible to tell fiction from reality. One could rarely glean more than a resonance from dreams. But that was all she wanted from Ruan now.


    Ava reached out with her sense, her mind brushing up against his. And she could feel Ruan¡¯s essence. Perhaps it was true, as these Faltari shamans believed, that it was his actual spirit.


    Ruan¡¯s was always warm, calm, good.


    He was not ruled by the jealousy and ambition of most of his peers at the academy. There was something special about him. Something truly Fjuriin, she supposed. A steadiness that balanced her own wild and bitter nature.


    Now, facing that good nature filled her with pernicious regret.


    It wasn¡¯t supposed to happen like this.


    And gods, she hated herself for failing.


    That was what she¡¯d shown Madri. That was how she¡¯d convinced the woman she was telling the truth. By baring the only two regrets she held in all her life. What happened to her mother with the Beirusian witch. And the betrayal of the boy she loved.


    Ava had never told Ruan her truest feelings. Nor had she spoken the words, even to herself.


    When he woke from this coma, his mother would fill him with lies about what Ava had done, what she¡¯d intended. Perhaps none of this would matter in the end.


    But she reached out to his mind and tried to impress the truth. The actual truth. Which, of course, was complicated.


    Was it actually love?


    Ava chuckled to herself. What did a nineteen year-old girl know of love? She, who¡¯d never kissed a boy she actually cared for? Who¡¯d never bared her soul to anyone.


    But deep down, Ava had longed to do both with Ruan, gods damn it. She¡¯d longed to tell him everything about herself. Everything she longed for and dreamed for. Everything she would lay down her life for.


    Slowly, Ava withdrew her magic.


    Ruan twitched softly. She held still, but he did not wake.


    Ava stood and was about to leave when she realized that the shaman and his wife were not out in the hall, any longer.


    She reached out with her sense, and her body stiffened.


    There was a disturbance outside the temple.

 44 - Schemes

    The pounding at the door jolted Malik from a dream.


    ¡°Get yer ass out ¡¯ere, Malik!¡± The words were slurred. Not quite a yell, but other villagers could surely hear him.


    Malik sprang from his bedroll in the main prayer hall.


    ¡°What in the Abyss is going on?¡± Surel demanded, sitting up in her cot.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Malik staggered to his feet, vision blurry as his eyes adjusted from being jolted straight out of a dream.


    ¡°Malik! Open the door.¡±


    Malik hurried across the room, tripping over a pair of boots on his way, cursing.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Madri demanded, emerging from the hallway, his father right behind her.


    ¡°Is that¡­¡± Surel began.


    Malik threw open the door. The stench of his friend¡¯s breath was potent on the air. Yuri nearly fell through the doorway, eyes wide and bloodshot.


    ¡°It¡¯s about time, yeh lyin¡¯ son of a¡ª¡±


    Malik grabbed the boy¡¯s arm and pulled him inside. He shot a quick glance around the empty street, relieved to see no one had been watching in the pre-dawn darkness.


    Madri lit a lamp with a flare of hish, and Yuri shielded his eyes from the light. He staggered into the room, looking around wildly.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this, Yuri Alwensein?¡± Madri demanded.


    Yuri¡¯s face turned, not quite remorseful, but chastened. ¡°There been lights on here all bloody night!¡± Yuri said. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me what the meaning is?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re drunk, Yuri,¡± Malik¡¯s mother scolded. ¡°I can smell the mead across the room.¡±


    Yuri glowered. ¡°Maybe I am. That mean I shouldn¡¯t believe what I see with my own eyes?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve been up taking care of our people,¡± Madri said. ¡°And healing an injured Attican boy.¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± said Yuri, gulping down a breath. ¡°Consul left hours ago.¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± said Surel. ¡°You¡¯ve been watching the temple all night? What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±


    Malik thought he knew, judging by the way Yuri had been acting after Aram Tulsein had coming jabbering.


    ¡°Let me handle this,¡± said Malik. He motioned toward the hall.


    Surel glanced from Malik to their parents.


    ¡°Malik is right,¡± said Joren. ¡°Yuri has always been a good friend of Malik¡¯s. This is between them.¡±


    Once they were alone Malik turned on Yuri. ¡°The bloody Abyss is your problem, Alwensein?¡±


    Yuri leaned back, stunned at the force of his words. Then, he pointed, jabbing his finger at Malik¡¯s chest. He resisted the instinct to bat Yuri away, sensing the pain in his friend¡¯s spirit.


    ¡°I¡¯m sick of being lied too.¡±


    ¡°Yuri, I haven¡¯t been¡ª¡±


    ¡°Bullshit! You know something you¡¯re not saying. And even that prick, Ulgar, is in on it. So quit lying to me.¡±


    Malik froze, horror nagging at his gut.


    ¡°I seen you two sneaking off to the shrines right after the attack. I may not¡¯ve seen what you were doing, but I know it¡¯s got something to do with Riese.¡±


    Malik wasn¡¯t sure what to say. Just how much did Yuri know? His friend¡¯s mind was a wall. He could feel his anger, but no specifics. Had he seen them sneaking Ava away from the scene of the crime?


    Yuri slumped onto the ground and coughed. ¡°Shit, you got any water?¡±


    ¡°Er, yeah, of course.¡±


    Malik fetched a flagon, and the boy gulped it down. He took a few breaths, eyes closed. For a moment, Malik thought Yuri might drift off to sleep. His head lolled on his shoulders. Then, he opened his eyes.


    The anger was gone, replaced by a rare sadness. When Yuri spoke, the words came clearly.


    ¡®I¡¯m sorry, Malik. I know you¡¯re a bloody shaman now, and we all know you keep secrets from the rest of us. I¡¯m just scared for her. I knew you always trusted Riese more than me. And maybe for good reason, but¡­ that Serpent fisher oaf?¡±


    ¡°It had nothing to do with who¡¯s trustworthy, Yuri. Ulgar was right in the middle of the attack. He saved my life. And oaf or not, I trust him. That doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t trust you too.¡±


    Yuri sighed. ¡°I just thought if there was a way to help Riese, you¡¯d let me in on it. She¡¯s my friend too.¡±


    Malik didn¡¯t respond.


    Yuri glanced around the room. ¡°So, where is she, Malik?¡±


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    ¡°You think Riese is¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m talking about your bloody prisoner.¡±


    Malik¡¯s breath caught. ¡°Yuri, you¡¯re drunk. You have no idea¡ª¡±


    ¡°Still lying. I shoulda known. And to think I defended you when Aram Tulsein was talking shit about what you were hiding.¡±


    ¡°Aram?¡± Malik¡¯s senses heightened.


    He reached for Yuri¡¯s spirit, searching for some hidden malice, but finding nothing but anger and confusion.


    ¡°You shoulda heard that bastard going on at the tavern tonight. That he seen you sneaking around the woods after the battle. That you were hiding something. And I told him¡­¡±


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Malik demanded, a pit burrowing deep in his stomach.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell him anything!¡± Yuri said. ¡°I said he was a prick, and of course, if you were hiding something, Aram and his father would be the last to know. And that if there was something to hide, there must be a damn good...¡±


    Malik backed toward the window. It was nearing morning, though the streets remained empty, silent.


    ¡°What are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m seeing if you were bloody followed, Alwensein!¡±


    Yuri went dead silent. He glanced out the window, met Malik¡¯s gaze, a sudden terror stirring, like a wild animal that knew it¡¯d been spotted by a hunter.


    ¡°N-nah, I¡¯m sure there was no one¡­¡±


    Malik pulled away from the window, and crossed the wide chamber toward the back hallway. He hadn¡¯t heard a sound from the rest of his family since Yuri arrived.


    Yuri doubled down, reverting to anger once more. ¡°Come on, man. I may be drunk, but I en¡¯t bloody stupid. Aram left the tavern long before I did. And besides, he knows where to find you anyway. Now, quit changing the subject. Is your little prisoner¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, she¡¯s certainly here.¡±


    The voice came from the end of the hall.


    Malik turned to find not Aram, or even his father, but the Lady Knight.


    Vera Salyr held tight to Ava Rykus¡¯s wrist, shoving her forward. The girl grimaced, her other hand supporting herself on her cane as she walked forward.


    The rest of Malik¡¯s family followed the knight out into the room. Surel looked terrified. His mother angry. His father defeated.


    Wielding bone spears, Aram Tulsein and his father brought up the rear, accompanied by another Attican soldier, who wielded a gladius.


    The Lady Knight surveyed the main temple hall. The other soldier walked the perimeter, securing windows shut.


    ¡°I was informed of a disturbance at the hall where my Lady¡¯s son is being tended. Lucky that Elder Eriksein came when he did. For who should I find standing over Ruan than the very girl responsible for murdering my Lady¡¯s predecessor.¡±


    The knight jerked Ava forward again. She nearly stumbled, biting back pain, as the knight ripped the cane from her grasp.


    ¡°Is this how you did it?¡± Salyr demanded.


    A flash of hish. Ava answered softly. ¡°I¡¯m sure I don¡¯t know what¡ª¡±


    Slap!


    Ava¡¯s cheek reddened instantly. Her jaw tensed, but she showed no fear.


    The knight glared. ¡°You killed Lord Campos with a hidden blade. Show me. Now!¡±


    The knight held up the cane¡¯s length, and Ava pointed to a small ring in the wood where the handle met the staff. ¡°Twist it a quarter turn to the left. A half turn right. Then press the dragon¡¯s mouth at the end.¡±


    The dagger shot from the end of the cane, dried blood still on the blade.


    Salyr¡¯s eyes grew wide with fury. In one swift movement, she cracked the cane over her knee, splitting it in half. She handed the blade end to the soldier at her side, then swung the other end around.


    Ava shrieked and clutched at her neck. The splintered end left a long streak across her throat. A stream of blood trickled down, splattering on the temple floor. It was remarkable precision. If the knight had extended the attack a fraction further, Ava would be bleeding out.


    The knight tossed the jagged remnant aside. Ava held her gaze, but for the first time that Malik had seen, her composure cracked. Tears welled up in Ava¡¯s eyes. Her body shuddered with stifled gasps as she fought to remain composed. The walls around her spirit weakened, and Malik could feel her fear.


    ¡°Do you sense my resolve, sorceress?¡± Salyr said. ¡°Do you sense my loathing? You¡¯re lucky you have valuable information, or you would already be dead. Try to manipulate my mind again, and I¡¯ll do much worse.¡±


    More people emerged from the back hallway. All the Faltari elders. With one exception. There was no sign of the Serpent chieftain, Olma Marudeil. A third member of the Bloody Company followed after them, though Pelasius remained absent.


    ¡°Caliphus has gone to fetch reinforcements,¡± the soldier said.


    Salyr nodded. ¡°I doubt that will be necessary. The shaman is conniving, but he¡¯s weak.¡±


    ¡°Please leave my family out of this,¡± Joren said.


    Madri clutched Surel tight, keeping her body in front of her daughter like a shield.


    Tul Eriksein shoved Malik¡¯s father forward with the butt end of his spear, like he was a stubborn alkine, and not the shaman of his own damn people.


    The elder did not hide his disdain. ¡°What were you scheming, shaman?¡±


    ¡°Nothing!¡± Malik said, before his father could answer.


    All eyes fell on him.


    Aram grinned maliciously.


    ¡°Malik, no,¡± Joren said, fear in his eyes.


    ¡°My father wasn¡¯t scheming anything,¡± Malik insisted.


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± said Aram.


    ¡°You expect us to believe you were just holding this assassin for our own good?¡± Tul demanded. ¡°Through all our council, you didn¡¯t think we might benefit from hearing from one of the very rebels who terrorized our festival? God¡¯s breath, I think you may very well have been in on the whole attack.¡±


    ¡°My father didn¡¯t know she was here,¡± Malik said.


    ¡°What?¡± The Lady Knight¡¯s piercing eyes bore into his own.


    ¡°It was me. My father knew nothing about her until a few minutes ago.¡±


    ¡°Son, no.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Malik said. ¡°I hid Ava from the council. Not my father. He wasn¡¯t scheming anything.¡±


    Aram¡¯s father grinned, pulling a satchel from his shoulder. ¡°Then, do you want to explain why your father was carrying this?¡±


    The Lady Knight stepped forward and took what appeared to be a scroll out of the satchel.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what that is,¡± said Malik.


    ¡°It¡¯s a map,¡± said Tul. ¡°Of the dead city beyond the Gate.¡±


    The knight¡¯s eyes went wide as she inspected the ancient parchment.


    Malik cursed to himself.


    Yuri had slumped in a chair, holding his head in his hands.


    Salyr rolled up the parchment and handed it to the soldier who had brought in the other elders. ¡°Hurry after Caliphus. Get this to our Lady Consul now.¡±


    The woman rushed from the room. The other soldier followed with orders to guard the back entrance. The other elders stood before the front door.


    The main hall contained no windows, only prayer urns, statues of the All Mother and All Father, and murals belonging to each of the clans. There was the secret tunnel from the inner sanctum, but there was no way to get there. Tul and Aram blocked the way to the back hall.


    The Lady Knight turned back to Malik. ¡°You¡¯re a liar, boy. All of you are traitors to the Dragon Throne, as far as I¡¯m concerned. Everyone in this room will taken to Attica to be tried. But you, Malik¡­ only you were there when Campos died.¡±


    Salyr stepped closer, her gaze withering. Malik could feel the rage emanating from her spirit like heat from a blazing fire.


    ¡°They knew nothing before the attack!¡± Ava said. There was no hish, no manipulations. ¡°We had no scheme with the shamans, I swear it.¡± Her eyes drifted to Aram and Tul at the hallway for a moment. ¡°I¡­ played them.¡±


    ¡°Played them?¡± Salyr demanded.


    Ava pointed to her temple. ¡°You felt my abilities. These savages think they are the one true arbiters of magic, but they have barely touched the surface. They were all too easy to manipulate. Just like you bloody Atticans. Just like Campos.¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± cried Salyr. She raised her hand to strike Ava.


    A squelching sound emitted from across the room, and she spun.


    Tul Eriksein¡¯s face distorted. The tip of a bonespear jutted out the front of his chest. The blade disappeared, and the elder fell forward.


    Ulgar Fenrisein stood over the body, and the temple erupted in chaos.

 45- The Cost

    Riese¡¯s heart was heavy as she left the council. She prayed she hadn¡¯t just made a terrible mistake. She was bringing war straight to the heart of her island home.


    She waited in the courtyard, while Deven and Rykus discussed more detailed plans with the others. The emperor had destroyed Rykus¡¯s home, and now, was taking war to Chardonia. Would Faltara be laid waste next?


    Rebels bustled around the courtyard. Most not paying her any mind. Riese held her rucksack in her lap, feeling the contours of the egg inside. The warm resonance of the dragon¡¯s spirit pressed against her own.


    ¡°What have I done?¡± she whispered.


    Destiny.


    She felt the word distinctly, unsure whether he had spoken to her, or whether it was simply an understanding between them. An impression.


    And when had her dragon become so clearly a he in her mind? She was unsure of that also.


    ¡°Destiny, at the expense of my own kin?¡±


    No. Destiny. Shared.


    ¡°Shared?¡±


    ¡°Anywhere else, you¡¯d be written off for a crazy person.¡±


    Riese glanced up to find a tall Valucian man. Strong jaw, brown hair, and sun-specked skin. He was joined by a woman with fiery hair. Both wore dark uniforms with the emblem of a dragon in flight on their breast.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°Riders?¡± said the woman. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m Rhoda.¡±


    ¡°Desmond,¡± said the male. ¡°We hoped we¡¯d find you before you left.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been years since we¡¯ve seen an egg.¡± Rhoda gestured to Riese¡¯s rucksack. ¡°May I?¡±


    ¡°Is it safe?¡±


    ¡°This is the only place it is.¡±


    Carefully, Riese untethered the top of the sack and reached in, fingers brushing over the ridged surface. It was warm. She hesitated.


    Rhoda smiled. ¡°It¡¯s like being asked to hand over your newborn babe, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I imagine so,¡± said Riese.


    Riese wondered what would be expected regarding the egg. She was to join Rykus on their return to the island. But she could not imagine leaving her egg behind. The bond was intensifying, that much was all too clear.


    She pulled the egg out and both the riders gasped.


    ¡°Gods are good,¡± said Desmond.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Rhoda asked.


    Riese handed the egg to her.


    The entire courtyard had gone silent. People passing slowed their pace to catch a glimpse of the shimmering emerald egg. They beamed with hopeful smiles. Even here, where two dragons soared in the skies.


    ¡°Most never saw the first eggs,¡± Desmond said, leaning in over Rhoda¡¯s shoulder.


    Rhoda gently turned the egg over. ¡°This one is nearly ready for the rites, if he¡¯s already speaking to you.¡±


    Riese nodded, filled with longing to meet the dragon inside.


    ¡°Can you sense our mounts?¡± Desmond asked, gently brushing his fingers over the egg¡¯s surface.


    Riese thought of the stirrings she¡¯d felt just she arrived in this strange world. ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Technically, it¡¯s your dragon that senses them. But the resonance is shared. Our dragons can¡¯t sense him yet unless they were very close, but a hatchling¡¯s senses are heightened, and not yet distracted by all the other senses in the outer world.¡±


    Rhoda handed the egg back to her, and Riese was filled with relief.


    ¡°How do you know all this?¡± Riese asked.


    Rhoda shrugged. ¡°We Valucians have an ancient heritage. You Faltari do too.¡±


    ¡°We do?¡±


    ¡°Well, the Valgish do. It¡¯s the origins of the Burned Lands, after all. And you¡¯re a northern Valgish clan, so¡­¡±


    Riese hesitated. She did not know what to believe anymore about her people¡¯s history. Instead, she focused on wrapping her egg once more and stowing it within her rucksack.


    Deven strode across the courtyard straight toward her.


    ¡°I should go,¡± said Riese.


    ¡°May the winds guide you,¡± said Desmond.


    ¡°We look forward to having you join our ranks when you return.¡±


    Riese nodded, mind racing. Again her dragon¡¯s voice in her mind.


    Destiny.


    ¡°There you are!¡± said Deven. ¡°Where¡¯s Rykus?¡±


    ¡°I thought he was with you,¡± Riese said.


    Deven shook her head. ¡°I was conferring with the Chardonians before they left. I just checked Elora¡¯s chambers, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Rykus was heading toward the gardens,¡± said Rhoda. ¡°I think he wanted a special goodbye before this particular mission.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye?¡± Riese asked.


    Beyond the courtyard, they followed a winding path to a fenced area beyond the walls. The path was lined with flowers, but an enormous tree dominated the space, set upon a small knoll pocked with boulders. Its trunk was thick as a house and its branches reached out toward the heavens like many praying hands.


    The purple skies radiated with violets and pinks as dusk settled over the fortress.


    Captain Rykus stood beside a frail woman, paying them no mind as they approached. He pointed out toward the radiant skies, and shifted the woman to look in that direction.


    ¡°That woman, Elora,¡± said Riese. ¡°Is she his mother?¡±


    ¡°His wife,¡± said Deven. They paused at the base of the hill.


    Rykus was speaking softly with her. Kept redirecting her attention to the sunset.


    ¡°She¡¯s been unwell for many years,¡± said Deven.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    Deven shrugged. ¡°Neither he nor his daughter speak of it. A great tragedy. Most say it happened during the Uprising.¡±


    Rykus turned, holding tight to the woman¡¯s arm, helping her walk slowly down the hill. She was so thin and small. Skin wrinkled. Eyes vacant. She looked fifty years older than Rykus, but Riese knew that couldn¡¯t be.


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    A pair of young women who¡¯d been sitting peacefully on a bench along the path hurried to help Elora and the captain.


    When they reached the bottom of the hill, Rykus embraced her. He held her for a long time, but Riese watched how her gaze drifted, stood stiffly, as though not aware that her husband was even there, let alone hugging her before a dangerous rebel mission.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Rykus whispered.


    Then, the two women walked off with Elora Rykus.


    The captain turned to them. ¡°Riese, are you ready to go home?¡±


    She nodded, though her face betrayed her.


    ¡°If Ava has succeeded, your people will be leaving the island. We will put no one in danger if we can help it.¡±


    Riese spared a glance at frail Elora as she reached the end of the gardens.


    ¡°But yes,¡± said Rykus, ¡°some costs cannot be helped.¡±


    Riese pictured the burning skies over the Isle of E¨°reth, and she nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± said Deven. ¡°Because we don¡¯t have any more time to delay. I must ready the ship.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not coming with us?¡±


    Deven grinned. ¡°Well¡­ not for long.¡±


    Her hand rested on the pommel of her saber. She withdrew it in a sweeping arc and the room filled with light.


    Riese¡¯s breath caught. ¡°A godblade? But I thought only the Knights of Caadron possessed them.¡±


    It was not nearly as large as the broad sword she¡¯d seen the Lady Knight wield during the attack on Yerida, but a brilliant emerald gem glowed in the hilt just the same.


    Deven grinned. ¡°We¡¯ve still got a surprise or two left before this is all said and done.¡±


    The Elyan woman swept her blade through the air cutting a semi-circle in the air itself, forming a misty sort of window.


    Together, Riese and Rykus stepped through.


    When she glanced back, Deven was gone.


    The totem pillars of the Shrines towered all around them, casting sharp shadows. It took a moment for Riese¡¯s spirit to adjust to her new surroundings. It was a bizarre thing to be so instantly flung from one world to another.


    Then, she felt something.


    Rykus turned, his face turned ashen. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Her heart pounded. Chills shot across her skin. She peered through the tops of the trees.


    She could feel a voice in her spirit as clearly as she¡¯d felt the dragon she¡¯d left behind in the rebel hideout back in the way station.


    The village was still as a felled doe, but this gave Riese no comfort.


    In the moment after a kill, the spirit of all things lingered for a time, brushing up against her own spirit, pleading, scared, alone. She¡¯d felt that tension and pain more times than she could count, and it always shook her.


    And Riese felt similar desperation now.


    But it was no animal.


    It was Malik.


    ¡°We¡¯re too late.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°She means something is terribly wrong. And she¡¯d be damn right about that.¡±


    Riese and Captain Rykus both turned. Elder Olma Marudeil emerged from behind one of the totem poles.


    Riese¡¯s heart was heavy as she left the council. She prayed she hadn¡¯t just made a terrible mistake. She was bringing war straight to the heart of her island home.


    She waited in the courtyard, while Deven and Rykus discussed more detailed plans with the others. The emperor had destroyed Rykus¡¯s home, and now, was taking war to Chardonia. Would Faltara be laid waste next?


    Rebels bustled around the courtyard. Most not paying her any mind. Riese held her rucksack in her lap, feeling the contours of the egg inside. The warm resonance of the dragon¡¯s spirit pressed against her own.


    ¡°What have I done?¡± she whispered.


    Destiny.


    She felt the word distinctly, unsure whether he had spoken to her, or whether it was simply an understanding between them. An impression.


    And when had her dragon become so clearly a he in her mind? She was unsure of that also.


    ¡°Destiny, at the expense of my own kin?¡±


    No. Destiny. Shared.


    ¡°Shared?¡±


    ¡°Anywhere else, you¡¯d be written off for a crazy person.¡±


    Riese glanced up to find a tall Valucian man. Strong jaw, brown hair, and sun-specked skin. He was joined by a woman with fiery hair. Both wore dark uniforms with the emblem of a dragon in flight on their breast.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°Riders?¡± said the woman. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m Rhoda.¡±


    ¡°Desmond,¡± said the male. ¡°We hoped we¡¯d find you before you left.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been years since we¡¯ve seen an egg.¡± Rhoda gestured to Riese¡¯s rucksack. ¡°May I?¡±


    ¡°Is it safe?¡±


    ¡°This is the only place it is.¡±


    Carefully, Riese untethered the top of the sack and reached in, fingers brushing over the ridged surface. It was warm. She hesitated.


    Rhoda smiled. ¡°It¡¯s like being asked to hand over your newborn babe, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I imagine so,¡± said Riese.


    Riese wondered what would be expected regarding the egg. She was to join Rykus on their return to the island. But she could not imagine leaving her egg behind. The bond was intensifying, that much was all too clear.


    She pulled the egg out and both the riders gasped.


    ¡°Gods are good,¡± said Desmond.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± Rhoda asked.


    Riese handed the egg to her.


    The entire courtyard had gone silent. People passing slowed their pace to catch a glimpse of the shimmering emerald egg. They beamed with hopeful smiles. Even here, where two dragons soared in the skies.


    ¡°Most never saw the first eggs,¡± Desmond said, leaning in over Rhoda¡¯s shoulder.


    Rhoda gently turned the egg over. ¡°This one is nearly ready for the rites, if he¡¯s already speaking to you.¡±


    Riese nodded, filled with longing to meet the dragon inside.


    ¡°Can you sense our mounts?¡± Desmond asked, gently brushing his fingers over the egg¡¯s surface.


    Riese thought of the stirrings she¡¯d felt just she arrived in this strange world. ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Technically, it¡¯s your dragon that senses them. But the resonance is shared. Our dragons can¡¯t sense him yet unless they were very close, but a hatchling¡¯s senses are heightened, and not yet distracted by all the other senses in the outer world.¡±


    Rhoda handed the egg back to her, and Riese was filled with relief.


    ¡°How do you know all this?¡± Riese asked.


    Rhoda shrugged. ¡°We Valucians have an ancient heritage. You Faltari do too.¡±


    ¡°We do?¡±


    ¡°Well, the Valgish do. It¡¯s the origins of the Burned Lands, after all. And you¡¯re a northern Valgish clan, so¡­¡±


    Riese hesitated. She did not know what to believe anymore about her people¡¯s history. Instead, she focused on wrapping her egg once more and stowing it within her rucksack.


    Deven strode across the courtyard straight toward her.


    ¡°I should go,¡± said Riese.


    ¡°May the winds guide you,¡± said Desmond.


    ¡°We look forward to having you join our ranks when you return.¡±


    Riese nodded, mind racing. Again her dragon¡¯s voice in her mind.


    Destiny.


    ¡°There you are!¡± said Deven. ¡°Where¡¯s Rykus?¡±


    ¡°I thought he was with you,¡± Riese said.


    Deven shook her head. ¡°I was conferring with the Chardonians before they left. I just checked Elora¡¯s chambers, and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Rykus was heading toward the gardens,¡± said Rhoda. ¡°I think he wanted a special goodbye before this particular mission.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye?¡± Riese asked.


    Beyond the courtyard, they followed a winding path to a fenced area beyond the walls. The path was lined with flowers, but an enormous tree dominated the space, set upon a small knoll pocked with boulders. Its trunk was thick as a house and its branches reached out toward the heavens like many praying hands.


    The purple skies radiated with violets and pinks as dusk settled over the fortress.


    Captain Rykus stood beside a frail woman, paying them no mind as they approached. He pointed out toward the radiant skies, and shifted the woman to look in that direction.


    ¡°That woman, Elora,¡± said Riese. ¡°Is she his mother?¡±


    ¡°His wife,¡± said Deven. They paused at the base of the hill.


    Rykus was speaking softly with her. Kept redirecting her attention to the sunset.


    ¡°She¡¯s been unwell for many years,¡± said Deven.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    Deven shrugged. ¡°Neither he nor his daughter speak of it. A great tragedy. Most say it happened during the Uprising.¡±


    Rykus turned, holding tight to the woman¡¯s arm, helping her walk slowly down the hill. She was so thin and small. Skin wrinkled. Eyes vacant. She looked fifty years older than Rykus, but Riese knew that couldn¡¯t be.


    A pair of young women who¡¯d been sitting peacefully on a bench along the path hurried to help Elora and the captain.


    When they reached the bottom of the hill, Rykus embraced her. He held her for a long time, but Riese watched how her gaze drifted, stood stiffly, as though not aware that her husband was even there, let alone hugging her before a dangerous rebel mission.


    ¡°I love you,¡± Rykus whispered.


    Then, the two women walked off with Elora Rykus.


    The captain turned to them. ¡°Riese, are you ready to go home?¡±


    She nodded, though her face betrayed her.


    ¡°If Ava has succeeded, your people will be leaving the island. We will put no one in danger if we can help it.¡±


    Riese spared a glance at frail Elora as she reached the end of the gardens.


    ¡°But yes,¡± said Rykus, ¡°some costs cannot be helped.¡±


    Riese pictured the burning skies over the Isle of E¨°reth, and she nodded. ¡°I¡¯m ready, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± said Deven. ¡°Because we don¡¯t have any more time to delay. I must ready the ship.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not coming with us?¡±


    Deven grinned. ¡°Well¡­ not for long.¡±


    Her hand rested on the pommel of her saber. She withdrew it in a sweeping arc and the room filled with light.


    Riese¡¯s breath caught. ¡°A godblade? But I thought only the Knights of Caadron possessed them.¡±


    It was not nearly as large as the broad sword she¡¯d seen the Lady Knight wield during the attack on Yerida, but a brilliant emerald gem glowed in the hilt just the same.


    Deven grinned. ¡°We¡¯ve still got a surprise or two left before this is all said and done.¡±


    The Elyan woman swept her blade through the air cutting a semi-circle in the air itself, forming a misty sort of window.


    Together, Riese and Rykus stepped through.


    When she glanced back, Deven was gone.


    The totem pillars of the Shrines towered all around them, casting sharp shadows. It took a moment for Riese¡¯s spirit to adjust to her new surroundings. It was a bizarre thing to be so instantly flung from one world to another.


    Then, she felt something.


    Rykus turned, his face turned ashen. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    Her heart pounded. Chills shot across her skin. She peered through the tops of the trees.


    She could feel a voice in her spirit as clearly as she¡¯d felt the dragon she¡¯d left behind in the rebel hideout back in the way station.


    The village was still as a felled doe, but this gave Riese no comfort.


    In the moment after a kill, the spirit of all things lingered for a time, brushing up against her own spirit, pleading, scared, alone. She¡¯d felt that tension and pain more times than she could count, and it always shook her.


    And Riese felt similar desperation now.


    But it was no animal.


    It was Malik.


    ¡°We¡¯re too late.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°She means something is terribly wrong. And she¡¯d be damn right about that.¡±


    Riese and Captain Rykus both turned. Elder Olma Marudeil emerged from behind one of the totem poles.

 46 - When to Turn Back

    Aram turned on Ulgar with rage in his eyes. A surge of magic, and the Dragyr boy flung himself like an arrow. Ulgar¡¯s spear clattered to the ground, Aram driving his knee into the boy¡¯s chest. Aram raised his spear.


    Malik raced across the room as the Faltari temple descended into madness. He thrust out with a burst of hish as he neared.


    Aram didn¡¯t see him coming. The breath of the gods struck his nemesis with righteous fury, sending the Dragyr boy reeling into a wooden pillar. Malik pulled Ulgar to his feet, and spun.


    His father faced off with the Lady Knight. Her godblade shimmered with threads of magic at its edge. His father hesitated. But Malik did not.


    All his life, he¡¯d been taught that hish was a gift from the gods, to be used to heal, not to harm. But this was a matter of survival.


    Traditions of magic, be damned.


    Malik released an even mightier magic attack that stopped the Knight in her tracks, her blade surging to absorb the hish.


    Joren followed up with an attack of his own, a pulse of magic that sent her careening into the temple wall with a crack. She was slow to get up.


    Ava snatched her splinter cane from the ground. She got to her feet with a hitch, but fought through the pain. One of the elders latched onto her cloak. Ava spun around, slashing, and Lysa Anadeil staggered back.


    Together, Malik and Ulgar let another surge of hish fly. Malik¡¯s attack was weaker this time, but paired with Ulgar¡¯s magic, Elder Dannsein flew back into the statue of the All Father, sending the sacred visage toppling.


    Malik felt warm energy at his back, but the force only glanced past him. Madri had deflected the attack. His mother stood at the entrance of the hall, barricading the back hallway, Surel behind her.


    A scream.


    Aram leapt across the room at Ava. She turned.


    With the last bit of magic he could muster, Malik crossed the space with a hish-induced leap and collided with Aram, tackling him to the floor. The boy¡¯s head thudded against the hard wooden floor with a crack.


    ¡°Come on!¡± Ulgar shouted, racing back down the hall from which he¡¯d come. Madri motioned for Malik to follow. Surel was already sprinting after Ulgar. Yuri, who had cowered at the edge of the action, suddenly came out of his stupor and crossed the room.


    Aram lay still.


    Malik helped Ava to her feet. Her right leg nearly gave out, and she pulled herself up, wrapping an arm over his shoulder. Fear and pain radiated from her spirit like a seething storm.


    They crossed the room as quick as they could manage.


    Malik¡¯s father wielded a force beyond anything Malik had seen that sent the Lady Knight straight through the wall onto the front deck outside. She did not stir, the blazing light of her godblade extinguished.


    Lysa Anadeil fled out the front door. Brom Dannsein lay pinned beneath the fallen statue of the All Father. Unconscious.


    ¡°Father, come on!¡± Malik pleaded.


    But Joren shook his head.


    Commotion outside. The cadence of boots and armor approaching.


    ¡°Get them out!¡± Joren said.


    ¡°I can help, Fa¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Joren knelt at Tul Eriksein¡¯s side, and began to administer a healing spell. The Dragyr elder was still breathing, though his whole chest shuddered and wheezed from the would. The floor was covered in his blood.


    Joren¡¯s gaze fell to Ava. ¡°Get the girl to the Gate, son. I love you!¡±


    Ava pulled on his arm. ¡°Malik!¡±


    ¡°Go, son!¡± Joren shouted and turned away.


    The Lady Knight staggered to her feet. The sound of soldiers outside grew louder.


    ¡°Malik!¡±


    His mother¡¯s voice.


    Malik turned away from his father.


    ***


    Rykus drew his saber halfway from its sheath. Riese reached for hish, though she knew it would be a terrible violation to use magic against anyone, let alone one of the Faltari elders.


    Olma Marudeil raised her hands above her head and smiled.


    ¡°Easy now, Captain Rykus. If there¡¯s one thing I hope you learned from your wife, it¡¯s that a quick draw can lead to unwanted outcomes.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Rykus said.


    ¡°Your daughter was unplanned, right?¡± Olma said. ¡°Born at the outset of an Uprising. It¡¯s a joke. Though perhaps loosed arrow would have been more apt than quick draw.¡±


    ¡°How could you know that?¡± Rykus demanded.


    ¡°You knew Ava¡¯s mother?¡± Riese asked, bewildered.


    The elder nodded. ¡°A long time ago.¡±


    Rykus peered at her in the darkness. ¡°How¡­¡±


    ¡°Look, I pray there¡¯ll be plenty of time for explanations and reminiscences. But right now, whatever you¡¯ve been scheming is about to be undone. If you go down to that village, your rebellion is over.¡±


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    ¡°What do you know about my rebellion?¡± Rykus asked.


    ¡°I knew your wife before you were wed. Before the first Valucian Uprising. I know enough to know that your cause is just, and it¡¯s high time my people chose a damn side. Now, come, we must be swift.¡±


    Olma motioned them into the darkness of the woods.


    ***


    Guilt raged in Joren¡¯s spirit over the damage that had been done this night. If he could prevent further harm, he knew he must. It was his sacred duty as shaman of his people, and as a decent man.


    Tul Eriksein was in terrible shape, but there was a chance the Dragyr elder would live. His wound was not quite closed over, but Joren had at least managed a solid clot.


    Still, the man did not stir.


    The Lady Knight drew her magic blade and stepped back into the hall to face him. Though physically weakened, Joren¡¯s attacks had not worn down her spirit the way they could against an ordinary soldier, the way they had in the Taikan Rebellion. This woman was trained to resist spiritual attacks.


    ¡°You fight well for a peace-loving shaman.¡±


    Joren continued his healing spell longer than he should have.


    Blood bubbled from Eriksein¡¯s lips. He coughed. Eyes squinted, and Joren breathed a sigh of relief.


    ¡°Fucking traitor!¡±


    It was Aram who spoke.


    The boy staggered to his feet nearby. He brandished a shaky spear in Joren¡¯s direction.


    Joren backed away from Tul, hands extended at his sides. He bore no weapon.


    Aram lowered his head and threw himself at Joren with a surge of hish, but like most boys, and certainly all on the Isle of Faltara, Aram had no true combat experience. And Joren had more than anyone knew.


    Joren side-stepped the attack. He did not bother wasting his magic. With a swift kick of his foot, Aram¡¯s entire body jolted mid-air. Joren snatched the spear and twisted hard.


    Aram flopped hard to the ground.


    ¡°I¡¯ll handle this, boy,¡± the Lady Knight said on a derisive chuckle.


    Aram¡¯s eyes were wide, filled with venom. ¡°Get away from my father, you bastard!¡±


    Joren stood between them and the back hallway, between death and everyone he cared for in this world.


    Aram sprang back to his feet, and Joren leveled the bone spear at him. The boy at least had enough sense not to hurl himself at Joren without a weapon.


    The knight chuckled. ¡°That bastard is the only reason your father yet breathes, boy.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    Joren met Aram¡¯s gaze. So bitter. So blinded by passion and ego. Always trying to prove he was worth something. Just like his father. A lifetime of generational insecurity had led to this moment.


    ¡°Get your father out of here, son.¡±


    Aram hesitated.


    ¡°Go,¡± the knight said, stepping closer. ¡°Death is meant for either the shaman or me. No one else.¡±


    Joren kept his concentration on Salyr. She had under-estimated him at the outset, but she was just as powerful in magic. And there was the godblade. But she waited until Aram had dragged his father¡¯s bloody form outside.


    The Lady Knight stepped forward, magic seeping from her blade.


    ¡°There¡¯s no way out, shaman. My comrades will capture your family as soon as they leave this place.¡±


    She¡¯d sent the others away, and no one had yet returned.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t they come already?¡± he asked.


    He could sense inwardly she was wary, she knew how vital timing was in war. It was the reason she¡¯d allowed Tul and Aram to escape. She was trying to buy more time.


    Joren glanced at Elder Dannsein, unconscious, pinned beneath the wooden visage of the All Father. His spirit was strong, but he remained unconscious.


    ¡°You¡¯re a good soldier,¡± Joren said. ¡°Surely, you wouldn¡¯t allow an innocent civilian to come to harm.¡±


    She smiled and glanced at the hall behind him. Voices echoed. Thuds as Madri and the others barricaded themselves in the hall.


    Joren had been stalling too.


    Salyr grinned. And leapt at him.


    Joren released a surge of magic that stunned her. But she settled on her feet easily this time, a soft pulse of hish absorbing most of his blow.


    ¡°You¡¯ve fought well, but I sense your weariness, shaman. You¡¯ve only one to two more attacks like that. And then, what?¡±


    The knight shot forward, swinging the godblade.


    ¡°Now, Madri!¡± Joren shouted, as he released one more surge of hish.


    ***


    Madri formed a coalescence of flame between her palms and sent it roaring down the hall. An instant wall of flame formed at the corner ahead, where they¡¯d formed their barricade, sealing them off from Joren and the Lady Knight.


    Malik¡¯s mother backed toward entrance of the Sacred Hall, calm, resolute, controlling the flames down the hall.


    Yuri and Surel waited in the Sacred Hall, and Ulgar, Malik, and Ava hurried into the healing chamber. Smoke seeped into the room, thick and suffocating.


    If only we¡¯d had a few more¡­


    Ruan lay upon the surgery table, unmoving, leathern straps fixed to his arms and legs.


    Swiftly as they could, all three of them released the straps. Ulgar took Ruan¡¯s shoulders and Malik grabbed onto the boy¡¯s boots, and together they heaved him up off the table.


    At the sudden motion, he stirred, arms failing. Malik lost his grip, and all three of them fell to the ground. The boy¡¯s eyes went wide. He coughed violently.


    Ava sent a calming surge of hish, and he stilled again.


    ¡°Hurry!¡± Madri shouted from the hall. ¡°I can¡¯t hold back the flames much¡ª¡±


    Malik and Ulgar staggered from the healing chambers and rushed down the hall, Ava hobbling after.


    Heat pressed all around. Ava concentrated more magic on Ruan¡¯s mind, keeping him calm, though he shifted his neck back and forth as they moved down the hall.


    Then, the magic ceased, and Ruan squirmed.


    Ava shrieked.


    Malik turned.


    From the flaming debris at the end of the hall, the Lady Knight appeared, hair smoking, godblade shimmering. Somehow, she¡¯d gotten past his father and the flaming barricade.


    Salyr latched onto Ava¡¯s wrist and pulled her back toward the flames.


    There was a crash from the main hall.


    Flames surged, shooting down the roof of the hall, sending sparks.


    ¡°Get Ruan out of here!¡± Ava shouted.


    Madri remained near the entrance to the Sacred Hall, arms extended toward the wall of flames, warding them back.


    Malik picked up Ruan¡¯s flailing legs, and he and Ulgar staggered past his mother into the Sacred Hall. Yuri and Surel stood at the entrance, behind the now-toppled bookcase, and helped them ease Ruan through.


    Malik returned to his mother¡¯s side.


    Down the hall, the knight clutched Ava before her like a shield. The girl shrieked as flames shot up her skirt.


    Madri withdrew her flames, and the inferno abated around the knight.


    ¡°I knew you didn¡¯t have it in you to kill the girl too!¡± The knight stepped forward.


    Madri did not speak to him. She did not have to. Malik could feel her spirit warning him, pressing against his own.


    With everything left in his spirit, Malik sent hish surging down the hall.


    The knight staggered back, and Madri launched herself at the Lady Knight in the same instant, and disappeared in a rush of flames.


    Malik froze. In shock.


    Ulgar sprinted past him, grabbed Ava¡¯s hand and dragged her away from the raging wall of flames, and Malik was jolted back.


    He raced forward and pulled Ava through and shoved the door to the Sacred Hall behind them.


    There was a thud behind the runemarked wood, and terror swept over Malik. He couldn¡¯t feel his mother¡¯s spirit.


    Ulgar shook his head.


    ¡°I can¡¯t leave her!¡±


    More pounding.


    ¡°No!¡± Ulgar shouted. ¡°If it¡¯s the Knight¡ª¡±


    Surel helped Ava into the tunnel, and Malik turned back to the door, reached for the warding seals.


    The door was searing to the touch. His mother had lost all control of the blaze. He feared they would break through the wards any moment.


    Malik couldn¡¯t feel either of his parent¡¯s resonances, and the fear was more palpable than the heat at his fingers.


    What if his mother was right there on the other side of this gods-damned door? What if he was merely too spent to sense her?


    Oh gods!


    ¡°Remember the Spires, Malik!¡± Ulgar shouted, pulling on his arm.


    Petyr Bromsein¡¯s face flashed before him, a boyish grin stretching wide. And then, the gust of wind took him to his death. Having pushed his luck a fraction too far.


    Malik withdrew his hand from the door.


    The runes glowed in the smoke, a haunting green. Still sealed.


    Ulgar pulled him back toward the tunnel where the bookcase had been.


    Screams echoed somewhere in the temple beyond, and tears streamed down Malik¡¯s cheeks as he followed Ulgar into the tunnel.

 47 - Whisper

    The world was searing heat and blinding fury. The Lady Knight was gone. Joren did not know where. But she¡¯d left her mark on him in the end. As the flames erupted from the other side of the temple, Salyr had attacked.


    With all his remaining strength, Joren resisted the powerful Knight of Caadron one last time. It was not enough.


    Salyr had dealt a devastating wound to Joren¡¯s shoulder, her godblade piercing straight through bone and sinew. His entire right side was completely useless. Arm hanging at his side, hand dragging, as he crawled across the blazing central hall, trying to find an escape from the consuming smoke and flame.


    The hish was completely drained from his spirit, and he felt pain beyond anything he¡¯d ever felt in his life.


    A section of roof collapsed near the hall. The heart of the blaze. Distant shouts and screams drifted from somewhere beyond his clouded vision. He could not sense anything any longer. As though his spiritual sight had vanished. His own spirit already fading from this world.


    Joren¡¯s eyes watered. The entire temple chamber was engulfed in flames. Joren thought he had nearly reached the hole in the wall where he¡¯d launched the knight.


    Distant shouts. He felt a dim sense of hish around him as villagers attempted to ward back the flames. No one dared venture inside.


    Joren wished he could draw some of that breath of the gods for himself, but his spirit was too spent. Through the smoke, he finally found the edge of the room.


    And realized with numbing horror, that he¡¯d found the wrong wall.


    Flames shot up tapestries, along walls. The toppled visage of the All Father was ablaze.


    Screams.


    God¡¯s breath! Elder Dannsein!


    The man was still pinned beneath the statue. Joren did not know if either of them had any prayer of escape, but he knew he could not abandon the elder.


    Pain lancing up the right side of his body, Joren dragged himself closer to the statue.


    His skin was so hot, Joren feared it might melt straight off his bones.


    ¡°Thank¡ªthe gods!¡± Dannsein coughed, tears streaking down his cheeks. The man had managed to form a ward around himself, but his spiritual strength was waning.


    Joren¡¯s pain had grown distant, numbing, a spiritual practice cultivated across his lifetime to control his own mind¡¯s awareness. Though it would not help the damage to his body.


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    Somehow, he kept moving, and that was all that mattered.


    Joren lifted his voice as loud as he could. ¡°When I say, withdraw your ward. Focus all your hish on the statue.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s on fire!¡±


    ¡°It will burn us both! But I cannot lift it alone.¡± Joren positioned himself, with his left boot braced against the body of the statue. His mental shield evaporated at once. The heat was agonizing, and he could ignore it no longer.


    ¡°Now!¡± Joren screamed.


    Joren heaved his left leg with all his remaining strength, and Dannsein pushed with all the magic he could muster.


    The statue rolled off the elder¡¯s chest, down his legs. Dannsein screamed, still pinned. Joren repositioned himself and shoved with his left foot.


    His entire body was pain and exhaustion.


    But at last, Dannsein¡¯s legs slipped free. He brushed flames from his pants and scrambled to his feet. He grabbed Joren¡¯s shoulder and tried to lift him up.


    ¡°Come on, shaman!¡±


    Joren slumped on the ground. Mind, body, spirit, all wereutterly spent.


    His vision blurred in the heat. Joren tried to roll himself over, but he could barely move his legs. His boots were tatters. His right side was immovable.


    ¡°Get out!¡± Joren¡¯s voice croaked.


    ¡°You saved my life, I¡¯m not leaving you, shaman.¡±


    Joren tried to move his body again, Dannsein pulling at his shoulder. The first try, nothing.


    ¡°Go, damn you!¡± Joren yelled.


    Dannsein heaved at Joren¡¯s body, and his vision swam as his body lurched.


    Joren rolled. Pain shot up his injured arm. Hands gripped his shoulders. Too many hands.


    Joren¡¯s eyes stung, but he knew his wife¡¯s spirit anywhere. Even here, at the end.


    She pulled his face to look at her. Flames glanced off her body like a shower of water, her magic warding off the conflagration.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare give up!¡± she shouted. ¡°Help me, Dannsein.¡±


    Together, they took hold of his arms. Pain rippled through Joren¡¯s bones, down the entire right side of his body.


    But Joren jerked to his feet, and they were moving. One foot. Then another. Dragging.


    A crunch behind them. Sparks flying around like flecks of stars. And Joren stumbled.


    Dannsein¡¯s hand slipped away. The man screamed.


    Madri turned, and Joren¡¯s legs gave out. He slumped onto his face.


    Madri rushed to ward off the flames from Dannsein¡¯s clothes. She cried out in pain, unable to draw enough hish to protect them all.


    Through the smoke and the tears, Joren saw the gap in the wall, feet away. They were so close.


    Another crash.


    And Joren¡¯s head thudded against the floor. His back seared with unbearable pain. Something on top of him.


    Dannsein blurred past him and leapt through the opening in the wall.


    Joren¡¯s vision roiled like waves in a storm.


    His spirit was slipping away. He saw everything as though he were floating above his own body, pinned to the floor by a fallen rafter. The heat was gone. The pain ebbed away.


    A hand gripped his own, and he was back beneath the flaming beam, again. But he felt nothing. Only warmth. No pain.


    His wife heaved against the beam. Her skin bubbled with burns, her magic unable to ward it off any longer.


    ¡°Get out, Madri!¡±


    It came out so softly he was not sure he¡¯d managed to voice the words.


    His love¡¯s face twisted with horror. Madri heaved at the beam again.


    ¡°Go! Please!¡±


    ¡°Never.¡±


    Joren brushed up against her spirit. Managing one last whisper of hish, as he slipped into the Beyond.


    There were no words.


    Only love. That was all that was left of his existence in this life.


    Madri released his hand, her gaze finding his one last time.


    And then, she was gone, and there were only flames.

 48 - On the Brink

    Urla Pelasius dreamed of fiery skies over a dark sea. Wind ripped through her braids, and she clung to her husband¡¯s waist as Voltari shot over a hillside, and the heavens opened up before them. The world stretched to the horizon, infinitely beautiful.


    Her husband¡¯s shaggy dark hair whipped in the wind. The dragon dove, sending a thrill through Urla¡¯s entire body. She shrieked with joy.


    Just before the incredible beast pulled up, Urla woke in her tent back in the Faltari encampment.


    She was jolted from the memory-laced dream, realizing that the shriek had not been her own.


    Urla bolted upright and sprang to her feet, drawing a dagger.


    Shrieks filled the camp.


    Her tent flap shot open, and her young lieutenant Caliphus entered.


    ¡°Lady Consul, you must hurry.¡±


    ¡°Lieutenant, what is going on? What are those screams?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a fire at the Temple!¡±


    ***


    By the time, Urla reached the inner village, some of the villagers had managed to douse most of the flames with a mix of water and magic. Dawn was just beginning to creep over the horizon. The nights were so bloody long this far north, even in early autumn.


    The roof of the temple had caved in, and the main worship hall was exposed by a massive hole in the front wall. The street was filled with smoke, and Urla coughed as she hurried over.


    Several soldiers investigated, picking their way carefully amongst smoldering beams. More villagers doused the wood with buckets of water.


    Urla spotted the shaman¡¯s wife, knelt over her husband¡¯s body at the edge of the carnage.


    Joren was barely recognizable, the burns were so extreme. It reminded Urla of the carnage after rains of fire.


    ¡°The Lady Knight was in there,¡± Caliphus said.


    The answers were fragmentary. Ava Rykus had been found. The shamans were traitors. Salyr and the village elders had confronted them. Caliphus was sent for reinforcements. By the time he came back the temple was ablaze.


    Villagers and soldiers scrambled all around her. Two of the village elders were gravely injured, and Faltari healers were hastily applying spells while both men groaned in pain.


    An impending sense of dread hung over Urla¡¯s perception like a storm as she neared. She marched up to the temple.


    A tall soldier blocked her path. She could not recall his name. He was a transfer after the Sigan campaign.


    ¡°Lady Consul, we haven¡¯t yet determined¡ª¡±


    She did not wait for the rest. Urla avoided the man and walked through the hole in the temple wall.


    Smoke filled her vision in the low light. All the walls were stained black. One of the supporting pillars had given out, and a section of roof was exposed above it. The far side of the entry hall was completely caved in. Parts of the floor had collapsed too, but she could see a path.


    Shrieks erupted from somewhere down the hall. A crash. A section of roof collapsed deeper in the building.


    Hands seized her, pulled her back.


    ¡°Unhand me!¡±


    The soldiers pulled her back toward the hole in the wall.


    ¡°My son was in there. I have to¡ª¡±


    More screams from down the hall.


    Urla slipped from the soldier¡¯s grasp, and stepped further into the room.


    ¡°Urla, wait!¡±


    A shout from outside. Caliphus. Only he would be so bold as to use her first name.


    She turned to find Caliphus holding onto the shaman¡¯s wife. The woman was shackled. Urla hadn¡¯t noticed that when she passed moments ago.


    ¡°Consul Pelasius,¡± Madri said. ¡°Your son isn¡¯t there.¡±


    ¡°Where is he?¡± she demanded, rage overwhelming her.


    ¡°Please come out of there,¡± Madri said. ¡°And I will tell you all what happened this night.¡±


    ***


    Ava¡¯s leg hadn¡¯t hurt this bad since her Desert trial at the academy.


    They¡¯d been slogging through the woods for nearly an hour. Ulgar led them straight up the steep sides of the fjord. The skies were dark with thick clouds, or perhaps it was smoke, but slowly, the night seeped into the pre-dawn gloom as they climbed.


    For a while, Ava heard voices. Shouts echoing on the wind, coming from the village. Sometimes, they sounded close, but Ulgar insisted they were far ahead and it was just a trick of the mountains.


    They pressed on. It was all Ava could do not to fall behind even while Malik and Yuri were carrying an unconscious Ruan with no stretcher. The shaman¡¯s sister remained close to her brother¡¯s side.


    Ava brought up the rear. The pain in her leg was a constant agony, even with a makeshift cane Ulgar had fashioned from a socha branch.


    Everything smelled like smoke and singed hair. She had burns on her ankles and arms, but they didn¡¯t seem to be severe.


    All she could do was focus on the next step and the next, and try to numb her mind to the discomfort.


    They approached the crest of a steep embankment, and all at once, her foothold was gone and she was tumbling. Sliding.


    Ava heaved her body, scraping her arm as she fought to remain on her front. She latched on to an exposed tree root and stopped, heart pounding.


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    She bit the inside of her lip to stop from screaming. The others came rushing down. A hand brushed her shoulder. Warmth spread over her leg, and then a blessed numbness.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I¡¯m no help with old wounds,¡± Malik said. ¡°But that should ease the burns a little.¡±


    The shaman hadn¡¯t spoken a word to anyone since they exited the tunnel beneath the village. Ava could feel intense emotion radiating from his spirit.


    Surel knelt by Ava¡¯s side, her hand at her back to steady her. Gods, she hated the attention, but there was nothing for it now. Speed was the utmost necessity, and she was spent.


    ¡°We¡¯re nearly there,¡± Ulgar said, motioning them up the mountain. ¡°We must hurry before daybreak.¡±


    Malik and Surel helped Ava to her feet, and they were moving again.


    Her mind reeled at all that had happened last night. The shaman and his wife were captured, possibly dead. And their chances at stealth with this mission to the Spires was entirely lost.


    The Atticans knew Ava had remained behind after the attack.


    She had failed.


    Ulgar stopped at the top of a ridge and peered around.


    ¡°Oh, thank the gods!¡±


    A woman¡¯s voice. It was startling, but Ava was too tired to jump.


    Ulgar relaxed his shoulders and turned. The woman embraced him. Malik and Yuri set Ruan down on the ground, and the woman knelt immediately to examine him. He hadn¡¯t woken again since they first moved him.


    A minute later Ava and Surel joined them.


    ¡°Olma?¡± Surel asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s a relief to see you,¡± Malik said. ¡°She¡¯s the Feathered Serpent clan elder,¡± he added for Ava¡¯s benefit. She looked familiar. Dimly, Ava recalled her father speaking with the woman during the Festival of the Fading Sun.


    They reached the nook in the mountainside. The elder pulled Surel and then Malik into an embrace.


    ¡°Malik, your parents¡­¡±


    The young shaman shook his head. ¡°My father is gone. I felt his spirit untether as we left the village. My mother¡­¡± Malik¡¯s voice trembled. ¡°I don¡¯t know. She stayed back so we could escape. She was in great pain. But I lost her resonance. Perhaps she escaped. I don¡¯t know. We couldn¡¯t risk¡­¡±


    The anger and sorrow were potent. Ava¡¯s mind clouded at the intensity of his emotion, mixed with her own guilt. It was times like these, she hated her gifts. Her own feelings were enough to bear.


    ¡°The boy?¡± Olma asked, looking at Ruan.


    Yuri and Ulgar had set him down outside a wooden door set straight into the mountainside.


    ¡°Consul Pelasius¡¯s boy,¡± Malik said. ¡°My father operated on him last night to repair injuries from the attack. That Lady Knight came to check on him. And all the Abyss was let loose. Anyway, it was either bring him, or let him die in the flames.¡±


    ¡°You made the right choice,¡± Olma said.


    Ava could feel the shaman¡¯s uncertainty, though he did not voice it. Everything had been a matter of moments.


    A tinge of shame reddened Malik¡¯s cheeks, and Ava felt a wall go up in his mind.


    ¡°And you,¡± the elder woman said, her piercing gaze settling last on Ava. ¡°The Valucian rebel¡¯s daughter.¡±


    It was not anger in her voice. Ava sensed no tell from her spirit. The woman was well-trained, like Malik had been the day they¡¯d met. Olma stepped closer, and peered into Ava¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°My, you look so much like her¡­¡±


    ¡°Like her¡­ you knew my¡­¡±


    Olma nodded. ¡°Elora?¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Malik asked.


    The elder smiled. ¡°Your father isn¡¯t the only person on the island who had a life-altering uhmskara back in their youth. Yes, I knew your mother long ago. Your father, too, though he barely remembers me. Still, it was enough to find him when the gods demanded it.¡±


    ¡°My fath¡ª¡± Ava¡¯s voice caught in her throat. ¡°Is he¡­¡±


    Olma motioned to the door in the hillside, which seemed to belong to some sort of permanent shelter.


    ¡°Come, all of you.¡±


    Yuri and Ulgar carried Ruan through the doorway. Then, Malik and Surel. Ava entered last, alone.


    Malik and Yuri rushed forward to greet Riese Torendeil, and Ava¡¯s own father pushed his way toward her.


    Ava could feel his relief wash over her before he reached her. He pulled her into an embrace, and Ava immediately broke into sobs she hadn¡¯t known she was suppressing. She collapsed into her father¡¯s arms.


    ¡°Thank the gods,¡± he murmured, crying too.


    Olma snickered. ¡°Oh, he thanks them now. But it was all I could do to lead him away, and trust the gods that you would escape from the village to find us. But of course, Ulgar is a fine boy, and the gods are good, so I knew you were in excellent hands.¡±


    Her father shrugged. ¡°My wife was always more devout, you may recall.¡± He helped Ava over to a small bed in the corner of the hut, and turned back to the woman.


    ¡°How did you get here?¡± Ava asked.


    ¡°Olma found us outside the village. Moments before the temple erupted into flames.¡±


    There was another bed beside hers, and Yuri and Ulgar laid Ruan down. Malik spent some time administering healing spells for Ruan, while Olma did the same for her.


    Then, the whole group gathered around to hear the full tale.


    How Ulgar had seen Aram following Yuri back to the temple, and chose to tell the Serpent clan elder all he knew.


    ¡°Ulgar hurried back to help. And I kept a third eye out for outsiders. I expected Rykus would be returning before the Atticans reached the Spires, if he¡¯d left his daughter behind. Lucky for him there was so much commotion in Yerida, or someone else might have detected him first. But my senses are keen. My mum always said I could¡¯ve been a shaman if I¡¯d been born into it. Anyway, I found Rykus, and much to my surprise, Riese as well. Ulgar did his part to aid the rest of you. And here we all are.¡±


    The room went silent. They all glanced at one another, the same thought on all their minds.


    ¡°What now?¡± asked Surel.


    Olma shrugged and turned to Rykus. ¡°Captain?¡±


    With one hand on Ava¡¯s shoulder, he turned to the others.


    ¡°The gate at the top of your Spires must be destroyed before the empire reaches those eggs. That is the mission. And we can use all the help we can get.¡±


    Malik and the others nodded.


    But Ava pulled away from her father¡¯s grip. ¡°What about the eggs?¡±


    Her father shook head. ¡°Plans have changed. We dare not risk a venture into the Abyss itself.¡±


    ¡°Without more Rebelmounts, we¡¯ll never be able to form a true resistance.¡±


    Olma scowled. ¡°The Atticans will make the journey quickly after what¡¯s happened. If you go after the eggs, you¡¯ll risk failing this entire mission.¡±


    ¡°And the entire rebellion,¡± Ava¡¯s father said. ¡°Olma¡¯s right. And the council agrees.¡±


    ¡°The council wouldn¡¯t know a wise plan if it hit them in the nethers,¡± Ava shot back.


    Olma bit back a smirk.


    Her father shook his head. ¡°If we fail, Ava, we¡¯ll have no chance of winning Elya¡¯s support. Without further aid, we stand no chance of taking on Attica. Even with a few more Rebelmounts. But if we can cut off their power¡­¡±


    Ava met her father¡¯s gaze. She could feel his fear. There was something, a much greater tragedy than what had happened last night, that lingered in his mind. Clouding his judgment. He pulled back, sensing her magic intrusion.


    ¡°What aren¡¯t you telling me?¡± she demanded.


    ¡°Ava, now¡¯s not the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Father, what happened while you were away. ¡°I¡¯ve never known you to take the safe path. I deserve to know why you¡¯re insisting on it now.¡±


    He grimaced. ¡°We have a mission to complete, Ava. That is all that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your island,¡± said Riese. ¡°It is gone.¡±


    ¡°Gone?¡± said Ava, feeling a surge of pent up rage in her father¡¯s mind at the words.


    ¡°The Dragonmounts burned it to the ground,¡± Riese continued. ¡°In retaliation for the first eggs you stole.¡±


    ¡°The entire island?¡± Ava asked.


    Her vision swam, picturing the rocky beaches and lush hillsides of her girlhood, engulfed in flames.


    Her father held her gaze, eyes misty. ¡°Every village. Every home. Every gods-damned structure, and every person within. The people who served our family, our cause, though few knew the extent of it. All our people are dead. The will of the Dragon Emperor.¡±


    ¡°Father, I¡ª¡±


    He cradled the side of her cheek and looked in her eyes. ¡°We cannot afford to fail, Ava. ?rith¨¨a stands on the brink of another Age of Fire.¡±


    Ava gripped his trembling hand. She drew on no magic, but she could not shake her resolve. ¡°You told me rebellion was a fool¡¯s errand without Elyan aid. But even if we destroy the source of their power, they still have dozens of Dragonmounts. Do you really think it will be enough for Elya to risk their own future? Their Flying Armada?¡±


    Silence fell over the room once more.


    ¡°She¡¯s right, you know.¡±


    Ava¡¯s heart leapt at the voice.


    Ruan raised himself to sit up in his bed. He squinted as he took in his surroundings. Malik came to his side.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been unconscious for two days,¡± the shaman said. ¡°Swelling in the brain. My father operated last night.¡±


    ¡°Before the fire,¡± Ruan said.


    Malik nodded.


    Ruan did not seem to notice. He turned his head, still squinting.


    ¡°You remember the fire?¡± Ava asked.


    ¡°I was in and out of things for a long time. Sometimes it was dream, sometimes reality. Sometimes something in between.¡± He turned his head. ¡°For awhile, it was hard to discern which from which. Until I figured out that it was reality that was pitch dark.¡±


    Ava¡¯s body felt cold and hollow. ¡°Ruan, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    His face was expressionless. Even after days of unconsciousness and pain and trauma, he remained so composed. So Fjuriin.


    ¡°I... I think I¡¯ve gone blind.¡±

 49 - Until the Bloody End

    Malik did not feel guilt about what happened to Ruan. He did not even feel guilty for not feeling guilty, as he usually might, his deepest spirit chastened by his father¡¯s years of instruction. Not this time.


    His father had sacrificed his life to save Ruan. If he hadn¡¯t performed that operation, the Atticans would not have cared about a disturbance at the Faltari temple.


    And Malik¡¯s father might still be alive.


    In his deepest spirit, Malik wished his father had never operated and the boy had been left to die. For that wish, he did feel a small amount of guilt, but it was drowned out by all the other raging emotions that had overwhelmed him the minute they reached the safety of the herder¡¯s hut.


    As they¡¯d fled, Malik had suppressed the soul-crushing emptiness of his father¡¯s soul untethering from his body. Even from a distance, it had been more painful than Petyr¡¯s death. More painful than his brother¡¯s.


    Malik felt more numb than he¡¯d felt that freezing night in the Spires with Petyr and Ulgar.


    There was no sorrow, only anger and hatred.


    The hut had turned silent as they rested for the last time before the mission.


    Ava remained close to Ruan, though neither spoke more than a few words. Olma, blessedly, had remained close to Surel, comforting her until she drifted to sleep.


    Malik did feel guilty about that. He needed to be strong for his sister, but he just could not muster anything more. It was all he could do to keep himself from plunging into oblivion.


    Though this was their last chance at sleep for likely a day or more, Malik could not switch off his mind. Trapped in a spiral. His father was dead. Gone. Just like that, and Malik was not prepared to deal with that reality.


    Yuri and Ulgar had little trouble sleeping. They lay on the floor across the room, breathing heavily, chests rising and falling with an infuriating solemnity. Yuri most of all.


    That dumb bastard, Malik thought bitterly.


    Ava slept in fits. Ruan just sat there in silence. Eyes open, drifting but never settling.


    And Malik cursed him once more.


    To his credit, the Attican boy did not grumble or curse Joren, or even Rykus, whose creatures were responsible for the injuries that had led Urla Pelasius to seek shaman healing in the first place.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about it?¡±


    He¡¯d thought Riese was sleeping beside Surel, but she plopped down beside him on the floor of the hut. Before he could answer, she pulled him into an embrace.


    Amidst all the chaos, Malik hadn¡¯t realized just how relieved he was that Riese was here. That she truly was unharmed, and that Ava had not lied. A voice in his spirit reminded him there was hope in that. Hope to fulfill the mission his father had left to Malik before he sacrificed himself.


    Get the girl to the Gate, son.


    Malik pulled Riese tighter. ¡°I¡¯m just glad you¡¯re here. Alive.¡±


    She held him for a moment, then pulled back and met his gaze. ¡°No to the talking then? Because you have the look of someone trapped in their own head.¡±


    Malik shrugged. ¡°I just want to move. The empire won¡¯t be sitting around.¡±


    ¡°You think imperial officers like Pelasius don¡¯t pause to plot their next moves?¡±


    Olma and Rykus were whispering urgently back and forth, concocting some sort of plan of their own. Malik was frustrated about that too. Just left here awaiting instruction.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time to waste. We¡ª¡±


    Riese grasped his forearm. ¡°We don¡¯t? Or is this about you?¡±


    Malik did not speak for a moment. Riese always knew how to cut through his bullshit.


    ¡°We can¡¯t afford to fail. I can¡¯t fail him.¡±


    ¡°Your father?¡±


    Tears streaked down Malik¡¯s cheeks. ¡°There are so many things I wish I could take back since Derrin died. So many things I shouldn¡¯t have said. And should have said. My father was truly a better shaman than our people deserved. Than I deserved¡ª¡±


    All the sorrow Malik had been suppressing burst forth, and he wept.


    Riese sat there, a hand at his back.


    ¡°Your father knew you loved him,¡± she whispered. ¡°The same way I knew, even when you withdrew from me and Yuri after Derrin died. And you¡¯re right, Joren was a better man than any of us deserved. Do you know what I remember most about your father?¡±


    Malik shook his head.


    ¡°After your brother died, Joren never faltered in his duty. Derrin was only one of four who died that year, and even though he was grieving, he tended to those other families and their burial rites the same way he did every year. A week after the festival, when my uncle nearly died in that tree-felling accident, your father was there within half a day. He stayed three days to make sure my uncle survived.¡±


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    ¡°I remember. Surel and I were both angry with him for being gone so long.¡±


    ¡°My uncle would¡¯ve died if he hadn¡¯t come. No other healer could¡¯ve saved him.¡±


    Malik nodded, chastened by every part of the conversation.


    ¡°Your father knew his life was about more than himself, Malik. More than his own family.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Olma softly, drawing near. She and Rykus had finished their deliberations. ¡°Joren always kept going. To perform the duty the gods gave him, he always said.¡±


    Malik turned to her and nodded. It hurt to think of him, but the numbness and anger were not as fierce.


    ¡°Your father never wanted to be shaman, did you know that?¡± Olma asked, taking a seat on the floor beside them.


    Malik nodded. ¡°Not until yesterday.¡±


    Olma chuckled. ¡°We grew up together, and gods, did Joren grumble about it when we were kids. He never asked for it. The way we Faltari choose our shamans is outdated, he said.¡±


    ¡°He wasn¡¯t wrong about that.¡±


    Olma smiled. ¡°No, perhaps not. But something changed while he was on his Wandering, as it did for me. As I expect it¡¯s done for you all now. Make no mistake about it. This is your uhmskara thrust upon you. As you grow older, you begin to understand how little sway you have over life. Sure, you choose small things, day to day. To eat fish or venison. To hunt this valley or another. But the big things, they are rarely within your control. Life and death. Ancestry. Wars. And you can either go your whole life raging against your lot, or you can rise to meet it. That is what your father learned during his Wandering. Joren accepted his duty¡ªhis path, as the Fjuriin would say. And he threw every part of his mind, body, and spirit into his path until the bloody end. Your father was the best man I ever knew, son.¡±


    Malik smiled, wiping away the tears.


    Riese shoved Malik playfully. ¡°See? Your father got out of his head. Maybe there¡¯s hope for you yet.¡±


    Olma patted him on the cheek, and rose to her feet. ¡°Your father was damn proud of you, boy. Now, it¡¯s time to do his memory justice.¡±


    ¡°You have a plan?¡± Malik asked.


    Olma nodded over at Rykus, who was waking the others. ¡°We¡¯ve got a plan. After that, it¡¯s in the hands of the gods.¡±


    ***


    ¡°I¡¯ve only one firebomb,¡± said Rykus, holding up his rucksack.


    ¡°And blessedly, there¡¯s only one road from Yerida,¡± said Olma. She had sketched out a rough map for the outsiders on a scrap of parchment, and everyone gathered around. ¡°There is a path here that goes straight through a mountain.¡± She pointed to a spot roughly halfway between Yerida and Kalengal Valley. ¡°Seal off that pass, and we may buy ourselves a fighting chance.¡±


    ¡°Except for the Dragonmounts,¡± said Malik solemnly. ¡°This entire plan hinges on the assumption that Athanasius doesn¡¯t send his entire winged force to the Spires. What then?¡±


    ¡°We will have to be impeccably swift,¡± said Olma. ¡°There is no denying that. But the bulk of the task force will come by foot.¡±


    ¡°How can we be certain?¡± asked Riese.


    ¡°Athanasius is spread on multiple fronts at the moment,¡± said Rykus. ¡°The emperor marches on Chardonia as we speak. He¡¯s sending an emissary to Valucia with a peace offering in the wake of the destruction of our island home.¡±


    ¡°Peace offering?¡± asked Malik.


    ¡°My house was intended to receive a dragon egg. Athanasius has extended that offer to another Valucian lord.¡±


    ¡°Peace offering,¡± said Ava bitterly. ¡°Threaten them with a rain of fire, and then returning with a gift as though nothing was awry.¡±


    ¡°At any rate,¡± Olma continued, ¡°all these fronts will almost certainly be missions that require Mounts. Not to mention, the message it would send if word got out about the entire dragon fleet flying North of all places. The emperor sent a little known company led by a woman to carryout this mission on the ground. This is a covert operation.¡±


    ¡°How can you be sure?¡± Malik asked.


    Rykus smiled. ¡°We have soldiers on the inside, son.¡±


    ¡°Morphs,¡± said Riese.


    ¡°So we need to beat them to the pass,¡± said Ulgar.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t choose this herder¡¯s hut for nothing,¡± said Olma. ¡°There are corrals on the other side of this ridge.¡±


    Ava¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°What do you corral up on a damn mountainside?¡±


    ¡°Stags,¡± said Malik.


    ¡°They move quick in the foothills,¡± said Olma. ¡°We¡¯ll have a chance at getting ahead. Pelasius and her Bloody Company will take alkine from Yerida. Better pack animals. Better stamina. But slow and steady. And we only need to be faster for half the journey. We will split up. Riese, we¡¯ll need you to lead the others to the Point of the Fjord.¡±


    Riese nodded. ¡°I know a hunter¡¯s path.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Olma said. ¡°Ulgar and Malik will join you. ¡± Olma turned to Surel. ¡°There are provisions here, and I think you¡¯ll find decent foraging yet, maybe even¡ª¡±


    ¡°No way I¡¯m staying behind!¡± Surel crossed her arms over her chest, fuming.


    ¡°You¡¯re a child, dear, I don¡¯t think¡ª¡±


    ¡°Surel¡¯s right,¡± said Malik. ¡°My father¡¯s mission is hers too, if she wants it.¡±


    ¡°Very well. And you, Alwensein,¡± Olma said.


    Yuri had kept largely to himself since their initial arrival. His spirit was a storm of emotions, but in truth, Malik had hardly paid him any mind. He stood when Olma addressed him.


    ¡°I think it best you stay behind, Yuri.¡±


    ¡°Madam Elder, if I may¡­ I don¡¯t want to remain behind either.¡±


    Malik tensed.


    Olma glanced Malik¡¯s direction, but she did not need to say anything to understand Malik¡¯s thoughts on the matter.


    ¡°After all that¡¯s happened, I don¡¯t know that¡¯s such a good idea.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t just sit around here.¡±


    ¡°No, indeed. In that, I believe you¡¯re right. I¡¯m not sure what will come of the ship Joren meant to sail to Valgland. But I suggest you find it.¡±


    Yuri looked dismayed, but Malik could not bring himself to feel sympathy, even when his old friend turned to him, pain and remorse etched across a tremulous face.


    ¡°Malik, please, I know I bloodied this up. Let me make it right.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your call, shaman,¡± Olma said, raising her palms dismissively.


    Malik turned to the others. Ulgar shrugged. Riese masked her true feelings, but there was no doubt about Surel. Her spirit raged.


    Malik shook his head.


    ¡°Olma is right, Yuri. You should stay behind.¡±


    I don¡¯t trust you. That was the unspoken truth they all understood.


    Yuri hung his head, and sat back down on one of the beds in the corner of the room.


    ¡°Now, Captain,¡± said Olma, ¡°we must consider your daughter.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll be with me and the others, of course,¡± said Rykus.


    Olma pressed tentatively. ¡°Do you truly think that¡¯s wise? For this mission?¡±


    ¡°Ava can ride. She is going to be a bloody Dragonmount for god¡¯s sake.¡±


    Ava stepped forward. ¡°I will not be going to the Spires. I think I have an idea for another delay.¡±


    Ava glanced back at the door to the next room, where Ruan awaited their deliberations.


    ¡°Ruan?¡± Rykus demanded.


    ¡°I will take him down the mountain,¡± Ava said, ¡°try to stall Pelasius while you prepare the explosion at the pass.¡±


    ¡°Right into the hands of the enemy? I can¡¯t allow it!¡± Rykus fumed. ¡°No, if you¡¯re not with me, you¡¯ll remain right here in this hut until all this is over.¡±


    ¡°I know my path,¡± Ava insisted.


    Olma nodded, chuckling to herself. ¡°By the gods, I think you got more of your mother¡¯s wits than I thought. You¡¯re sure you¡¯ll be alright with the prisoner?¡±


    ¡°Believe me, I can handle Ruan Pelasius.¡±

 50 - Diverging Paths

    They set out together, save for Olma and Yuri, who set out immediately down the fjord on foot.


    Since Yuri had been seen by several in the temple last night, it was determined that he and Olma would split up further down the fjord and arrive separately. Once the Atticans left the village, he would be able to sneak aboard one of the Faltari vessels.


    Ava sensed there was more to the plan that was not being shared by either her father or the Faltari elder. But that was in their hands now.


    She had her path set before her.


    Ava and the others took the mountain stags and rode off together into the thick snowpine forest, in hopes of reaching the Point of the Fjord ahead of the Attican company. After that, she would be on her own.


    Ava¡¯s father brooded silently for most of the ride, staying close, constantly eying Ruan. Perhaps trying to determine if the boy were somehow faking his injury. But Ava knew for certain. She had peered into his mind. Something she had never done before.


    It had not come without guilt, like most things on this damn island, but it was necessary.


    All her years at the academy, Ava had resisted the temptation to probe Ruan¡¯s mind, fearing he was only using her, fearing he felt nothing, but knowing it would be a violation of the trust her mission required she keep.


    She had no choice this time. Her father had insisted on proof. What she found had only made her feel worse than ever at the way Ruan had been made carnage in the wake of this mission.


    Ava had felt his fear. The sorrow he fought so hard to hide. The sting of her lies and deceit coursed deep in his mind.


    There was nothing for it, but perhaps there was hope yet.


    But Ruan was still a student of Dawncrest Academy, and her father was right to fear him.


    If she was wrong¡­


    No, Ava could not go there, and she certainly could not tell her father the depth of the doubts she suppressed.


    For some time, they all remained silent.


    They were still only a league from Yerida, and sound traveled from high on the fjord. Emotions were high, and Ava felt them all.


    Malik and Surel kept close to one another, mourning their father in silence, fearing for their mother¡¯s fate.


    Ulgar feared for his family back in the village, though he did not dwell on it the way the shaman and his sister did. He seemed the sort who found peace in a path set before him.


    Riese led the group through the thick forest, seeming to know the landscape better even than Ulgar, who was from this part of the island. Despite the tragedies, the young huntress looked more alive than anyone else in their party. Ava could feel a sense of assurance and courage that hadn¡¯t been there only days ago. And Ava suspected it had something to do with what lay within Riese¡¯s pack.


    The same bond which had swiftly faded from Ava¡¯s spirit after her father took her egg from the island the night of the attack. Would she ever hold that egg again?


    But if she failed this mission, none of it would matter.


    Her father was more tense than ever, and it grew worse the farther they rode. The closer they came to the juncture where he would once again have no hand in his daughter¡¯s fate.


    Fear consumed his thoughts. Ava could feel it, even without delving inside.


    Finally, he gave voice to the nagging question once they¡¯d crossed the top of a steep rise and descended into the shelter of a small valley. ¡°Why Ava? Why must you be the one to take the Pelasius boy?¡±


    It was a fair question, and Ava did not have a fair answer.


    ¡°It¡¯s my path,¡± she said.


    It made little sense. Ava had killed the Consul General with no regret. She¡¯d been unfazed when her own classmate had bled out before her, at the hand of the Consul¡¯s manservant.


    But seeing Ruan this way¡­ it made her think of something Joren had said when he showed her the map.


    All wars are not won with bloodshed. When to give life, when to take it, and the wisdom to know the answer the moment before death. That is my prayer for what is to come. That is my prayer for you, Ava Rykus.


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    Those words echoed in her mind. In her spirit.


    It was the choice her mother had made, Ava understood now. To sacrifice herself so that Ava might have a part in an unknown future along the Path.


    But for a man like her father, it was not an acceptable answer.


    ¡°Your mother was the Fjuriin one,¡± he murmured, shaking his head.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Ava. ¡°I used to read her journals. From when she was a girl. When she met you. When I was born. When the Uprising began to turn against us. Always, she believed in the gods. In their Path.¡±


    Her father huffed, but couldn¡¯t hold back a smile. ¡°She really believed. Do you? That¡¯s the first I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    Ava smiled. ¡°Most of my life, my Path has felt like it was laid out in stone before me. Leading me here. Now, the Path is shrouded in mists, and I think perhaps, that is the true nature of what Mother believed.¡± She met her father¡¯s gaze.


    His eyes were misty. ¡°I cannot bear to lose you.¡±


    ¡°You always said the cause was greater than its parts. Greater than you or me. Greater than Mother¡¯s fate.¡±


    He went silent for awhile, watching Ruan, riding ahead of them, a rope fixed between Ava¡¯s saddle and his.


    ¡°I¡¯ve my part to play,¡± Ava said. ¡°And you¡¯ve your own. Trust me, father.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I do.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡±


    He glanced up at Ruan again. The boy kept his chin tucked into his breast, the way he always did when he was listening intently, trying to go unnoticed.


    Ava smiled. ¡°I¡¯ve done all right so far, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    Her father reached over and gripped her hand. ¡°You¡¯ve been brilliant. Just like your mother.¡±


    ***


    They rode high and deep into the woods. The towering trees were not nearly as thick as the broad-leaf forests of Valucia and Attica, but they were taller, plunging high into the skies like spears.


    When Ava looked back, she could see little of the fjord behind them. She hoped it meant no one could see them from the village. Mountains loomed above them, swaths of dark gray stone rising sharply to menacing peaks lined with much sparser trees.


    Riese assured them that the mountains would be their friend, in the end. The traditional road to the Spires wended through easier passes south of the fjord. A longer route, but one much more manageable for wagons and provisions.


    Ava wouldn¡¯t have minded a smoother path. The stag moved awkwardly beneath her, especially on the steeper rises, jostling her whole body as the beast picked its way over rocks and wended between sharp snowpine branches. Her wounds from the night before had healed thanks to Olma and Malik. But there was always a dull throbbing in her leg, and the jarring movements and the brisk air didn¡¯t help.


    All she could do was press on, trying to push her mind to that place where pain was distant.


    It was late morning when they reached a sparse meadow, stretching before a great plain of scree. The walls of mountains shot upward on either side of them, the peaks brushed with snow, and directly ahead, they faced an icy wall of pale blue.


    ¡°Gods above,¡± she muttered.


    ¡°That¡¯s the glacier that carved this entire fjord,¡± said Malik. ¡°So my father said.¡± His voice hitched subtly at the mention of Joren, but he suppressed the emotion swiftly.


    ¡°This is where we part,¡± said Riese. She pointed to the right, where a small path led back into the forest. Back down into the fjord and to the south. ¡°This is a hunting track,¡± she said, ¡°but it connects to the Soul Road a couple miles down. It starts steep, but levels off as you get close. Keep bearing south, and you¡¯ll reach the road. Weall must move quickly while we¡¯re outside the cover of the forest.


    They were miles from the village, but what hung unspoken between them was the knowledge of what might spot them from the skies.


    Ava¡¯s father drew his stag up close to hers and gripped her hand. ¡°Be safe, my dear.¡±


    Ava rolled her eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t be so clich¨¦, Father. You didn¡¯t raise me to be a dithering fool in the face of danger.¡±


    Her father took a deep breath, then smiled. ¡°No, indeed.¡±


    ¡°This is bigger than us, don¡¯t you bloody forget it,¡± she whispered.


    Her father grimaced. His mind hitched, but she could not tell what it was. It reminded her of the way he looked after he¡¯d just walked with her mother. An inevitable sadness.


    ¡°I love you, Ava.¡± Her father pulled away.


    Malik approached. ¡°Not being a dithering fool doesn¡¯t require ignoring the danger.¡±


    Ava smirked. ¡°Jokes are the only way they don¡¯t take hold, shaman, didn¡¯t you know?¡±


    ¡°Maybe I should try it sometime. If we survive I¡¯ll add it to my list of self improvements.¡±


    Ava laughed. ¡°A long list, I expect, shaman.¡±


    ¡°Not if you never write it down.¡±


    She dipped her head. ¡°I enjoy sparring, shaman. And assuming this isn¡¯t an entire shitstorm of a rebellion, we¡¯ll need recruits for what¡¯s ahead.¡±


    ¡°Recruits?¡±


    ¡°You Faltari have magic abilities I would very much like to exploit. If we survive.¡±


    Ava pulled her reins and urged her stag forward, its hooves sinking into the scree.


    With a soft jolt at the rope tethering them together, Ruan¡¯s beast followed after. She did not look back until they reached the cover of the forest.


    By that time, the others were already halfway up the precipitous side of the glacial valley. She took one last breath, pushing back against the dread that threatened her spirit.


    Ruan pulled up beside her, expressionless. His bound hands gripped the saddle horn, remaining impressively steady all the ride up through the fjord.


    ¡°Never knew how well you could ride a stag,¡± Ava said.


    ¡°Before my father would let me ride with him on Voltari, he put me on the back of every land beast that could move. Even a desert razorback. This is nothing.¡±


    She had always enjoyed hearing about Ruan¡¯s upbringing. No rebellions. No childhood tragedies. Sure, his parents were bloody Attican nobles and soldiers, but they had always struck her as different from the other academy parents. The Pelasiuses never inordinately celebrated Ruan¡¯s achievements, always pushed him to be better. Like her own father.


    Ava peered down the hunting track before them. It was narrow, barely even a path at all, just a faint ribbon of trodden grass and worn terrain, winding through tight copses of trees.


    ¡°It¡¯s steep and rocky to start. You may want to hold tight.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need you to narrate the ride,¡± said Ruan. ¡°I¡¯ve managed well enough so far. In fact, perhaps it¡¯s best we don¡¯t speak at all.¡±


    Ava urged her beast forward. ¡°If you say so.¡±

 51 - Dragonmount

    Ava and Ruan rode in silence down into the thick of the Faltari forest. The ride was jolting at first, weaving steeply down to a narrow canyon.


    The jarring ride was a constant source of discomfort. Riding had always been painful, let alone after the abuse she¡¯d put her body through the past couple of days. But she did not complain. Ava would not give the gods, nor the Atticans who had caused her injuries, the satisfaction of wearing down her will. But gods, she would have killed for one of the alchemical pain-tonics back at the academy.


    The ride grew smoother as the land leveled off.


    Ava could sense Ruan¡¯s irritation growing as the silence stretched on. It was difficult to tell time against the overcast skies, but she thought it must be midday based on her hunger. She longed to feel the sun¡¯s warmth on her back. The morning had been crisp, and the middle of the day was not much better.


    ¡°Autumn is short here,¡± Riese had told her during the morning ascent. ¡°We joke how you blink and it¡¯s the dead of winter.¡±


    ¡°How do you endure in such a place?¡± she¡¯d asked.


    ¡°Mead,¡± Riese had joked. ¡°And dreamsmoke.¡±


    Ava smiled. She hoped the Faltari survived. She liked them an awful lot more than the Atticans she¡¯d grown up around.


    Finally, they reached a ridgeline that looked down over the treetops. The land swept down the fjord for many miles. Ava could see the glimmering of the sea. Sun must be shining somewhere down there.


    She could not make out the actual harbor or the village of Yerida from here. A narrow valley stretched wide and green to the south, and to the east, mountains plunged into the clouds.


    The world was utterly still. No signs of marching armies. No evidence of humanity whatsoever. Perfectly serene, beyond even her own island during the years of her childhood. Thoughts of her mother seeped in. Hazy memories of walks in the meadows outside their estate. Playing with her in the gardens as a small child. It was not until much later that she learned how rare that was for a noble¡¯s daughter. Most of her classmates had been raised by nursemaids.


    The thought sent sorrow through her spirit. But they were warm memories.


    ¡°Are we close?¡± asked Ruan.


    ¡°We¡¯re getting there.¡±


    ¡°Why did we stop?¡±


    ¡°Do you really want to know?¡±


    Ruan grimaced.


    Ava did not pry, but she sensed something in Ruan¡¯s spirit. An uncertainty.


    ¡°The view reminded me of my home. My girlhood. Before every part of my life became about advancing in the academy. Before every move became a¡­¡±


    ¡°Calculation?¡± Ruan offered.


    ¡°Something like that. It was not an easy time. But... you didn¡¯t want to talk, as I recall.¡±


    Ruan smirked. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d see the day when that stopped Ava Rykus from carrying on. I may not be the most talkative person in the world, but¡­ I don¡¯t actually love silence.¡±


    ¡°You like to listen. To learn about people. When it¡¯s silent, you¡¯re left only with a troubled mind.¡±


    ¡°Now, more than ever.¡±


    Ava did not know what to say to that. It was a rare and uncomfortable feeling. To be unsure of the right words, the right moves. Perhaps taking Ruan was a grave mistake.


    Ruan shrugged. ¡°Well, go on, if you feel like talking, then. The view brought memories¡­¡±


    ¡°After the Valucian Uprising was quashed. When I was injured, and my mother was gone. The healers worried, I would not recover. I spent my girlhood in rehabilitation. Building up movements that had once been so gods-damned ordinary, I never knew you could take them for granted. It was exhausting. My father used to carry me on his back up the hills behind our castle. On the other side, you couldn¡¯t see the villages or shipyards in disrepair. All the destruction.It was just¡­ nature. That¡¯s what the view reminded me of.¡±


    And now, that place is gone, she thought.


    ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sure it must be beautiful.¡± Ruan¡¯s face tensed.


    Ava longed to peer inside. To know what he was truly thinking. All she could do was press on with this path.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ruan, I¡­¡±


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    ¡°Don¡¯t pity me to make yourself feel better. You made your choice.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. My choice was made long before I met you.¡±


    ¡°Your people rebelled.¡±


    ¡°I was fucking four, Ruan.¡±


    Silence stretched on again. Birds chirped. Wind rushed through the branches. Clouds began to part, and a beam of light shot over the valley below.


    ¡°Anyway, I survived. Which is more than can be said of my mother. Do you want to know how it happened?¡±


    ¡°Ava, you¡¯ve never wanted to discuss her, so why would¡ª¡±


    ¡°It was because of me.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t Attica that made my mother into that empty shell of person. It was me.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked, softer now.


    ¡°The healers were right. I shouldn¡¯t have recovered from my injuries. But my mother wouldn¡¯t have it. We journeyed to the Free City.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°My mother sought the help of a Beirusian witch. That sort of magic, it comes at a cost. And my mother paid it.¡±


    ¡°Ava, I¡­¡± Ruan¡¯s voice drifted with the wind.


    ¡°Perhaps if we¡¯d sought the help of a Faltari shaman, the price would not have been so high.¡±


    ¡°Like my price,¡± said Ruan. ¡°That¡¯s what you think this is? Not the shoddy work of some crazed shaman at the edge of the world.¡±


    Ava bit back tears. ¡°That shaman was a good man, Ruan, and you¡¯re lucky to be alive. That¡¯s what I think. I thank the gods you¡¯re alive, Ruan. You¡¯ve no idea what I wouldn¡¯t give to talk to my mother like this.¡±


    Ruan was silent. Emotion swelling inside him.


    ¡°Sometimes I wish she¡¯d failed,¡± Ava said. ¡°I would gladly have remained a cripple if it meant my mother were still here. All our schoolmates thought me a damn cripple anyway.¡±


    Ruan chuckled. ¡°Iriana said that behind your back the whole trip. Guess, you showed her, eh?¡± His voice turned dark. He was probing.


    ¡°Iriana Thenius was seething inside when Campos chose me to bond with one of those eggs,¡± Ava said. ¡°When he chose the Faltari girl, it was even worse. If she¡¯d journeyed back with us as Campos intended, Iriana would have thrown her overboard, first chance she had¡­ No, I don¡¯t regret what happened to her. But it doesn¡¯t mean I enjoyed watching her die. Even if she did represent everything that¡¯s wrong with Attica.¡±


    Ruan nodded pensively. ¡°And if it had been me Campos had chosen, and not her? If I¡¯d have been there¡­¡±


    A tear streaked down Ava¡¯s cheek. ¡°I would not change what I¡¯ve done. But if there had been a way to keep you safe, I would have. I tried¡­¡±


    Ruan huffed. ¡°You gonna tell me you¡¯re the reason he chose Iriana instead of me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ava said. ¡°I tried to convince Campos not to bring you in the first place. But his plans for your house were stronger than my manipulations.¡±


    ¡°My mother is Lady Consul now,¡± Ruan said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Ava. ¡°She is.¡±


    ¡°Campos never intended for me to bond. It was just a reason to bring my mother. To groom her to become his replacement.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t claim to know the inner workings of imperial politics. But I know the Consuls were never allowed dragons. If Campos intended your mother to be Consul, you would never have bonded another dragon.¡±


    Ava turned quiet. There was more beyond that. For this opportunity never would have been presented to Campos, had Ruan¡¯s father not fallen during the Sigan campaign, but she feared that was a bridge too far. She could only hope that¡ª


    Her skin pricked. Her spirit swelled as a ferocious rage swept over her senses.


    Wind rushed through the trees directly overhead, sending branches flying.


    The stag jolted beneath her, and Ava¡¯s stomach churned as she flew airborne.


    Ava landed on her back in an enormous thorn bush, barbs piercing her skin in a hundred places at once.


    She screamed, rolled. More pain. Blood dripping down her brow, her arms, between her fingers.


    Hooves thundered as her stag raced off and disappeared into the woods.


    Somehow, Ruan remained mounted. His stag bucked beneath him, but Ruan gripped the reins with furious determination.


    Ava groaned. She tried to move, but the thorns only gripped her tighter.


    ¡°Ah!¡± she whimpered.


    ¡°You always did love to talk too much,¡± said Ruan spitefully. ¡°But you forgot something important for all your schemes. Maybe I¡¯ll never be Dragonmount, but my father taught me the sense of a dragon, even without a full bond. I can sense when they¡¯re close.¡± He pointed at his temple.


    The forest erupted with torrents of wind and a roar that made the air itself quake.


    Dark masses shot over the treetops. With horror, Ava glimpsed the sharp lines of a gargantuan wing.


    ¡°Ruan!¡± Ava said. ¡°No, please.¡±


    Ruan kicked his stag forward, and the beast trotted down the path, hooves thudding and fading quickly.


    With a shriek of pain, Ava wrenched herself from the tangle of thorns, shredding her cloak and much of her torso in the process. She rolled onto the hard ground, eyes blurring with agonizing tears. She latched onto a sapling, and pulled herself to her feet.


    Ruan stopped at the clearing a hundred yards ahead. Sunlight beamed down through a crack in the clouds, and Ruan waved his arms at the sky, shouting.


    Ava staggered back up the path. Wind rushed overhead, and an enormous shadow passed over her.


    But she didn¡¯t stop. Couldn¡¯t stop. Not yet.


    Heart racing, Ava scrambled up the hillside deeper into the forest, leaving the path to submerge herself in the thick foliage. She crossed down into a small ravine. Her foot lost purchase, and she pitched backward, sliding, rolling. She landed hard on her stomach. The woods darkened.


    Wings hovered above the trees, flapping hard to hold the beast in place. Hot sulfuric fumes engulfed the forest, making her gag.


    But such a large beast could not possibly land in this dense foliage.


    Ava pulled herself up once more, snatching a limb of snowpine, steadying herself enough to scramble out of the loose scree and pine needles that had led to her fall.


    Once she got out of the ravine, the going got easier again, the slope tapering off as she neared the top of a ridge.


    Ava pushed past the pain, hurrying faster.


    The top of the ridge was nearly in reach.


    Snap!


    Her stick splintered, caught between boulders, and she slipped again. Pain lanced up her leg as she dragged herself back to her feet, and she fell again.


    ¡°Shit!¡±


    Wings flapped furiously. A roar send shivers shooting through her body.


    Ava did not move.


    She had known the minute she saw the beasts that it was fruitless to try to escape. She could only hope she¡¯d bought enough time for the others.


    Somewhere to her left she heard the thud of boots, the crunch of large footsteps on the forest floor. The ring of a drawn blade.


    Ava turned.


    A tall man strode down the slope.


    The Dragonmount¡¯s jet-black hair hung loose, flaring out from his helm. He wore black leathern armor with the crimson dragon emblazoned on his chest.


    Slowly, he removed his helm, and Ava gasped, recognizing the man¡¯s face instantly.


    Athanasius set down his helm and his thin lips curled into a smile.


    ¡°There you are, Ms. Rykus,¡± he said calmly. ¡°Now, where are the others?¡±

 52 - Dragonsight

    Riese felt the dragons before she saw them.


    The mountains were silent sentinels towering above their party as the descended a narrow pass beyond the glacial wall. The autumn air cut through her cloak, nipping at the exposed skin of her neck and fingers. A valley of boulders swept before them, down to a thick copse of socha, crimson leaves blazing against their white limbs.


    The world was still, save for the soft clopping of their stags, and the occasional scrape as a hoof slipped in the scree. Rays of sun streaked through the clouds above.


    Then, the stillness vanished, and rage filled Riese¡¯s spirit, a shared sensation with the soul residing in the egg strapped to her back.


    The unhatched dragon was screaming in her mind as clear as a babe in a neighbor¡¯s hut. A desperate, fearful warning that made her blood turn to ice.


    Riese froze, glancing all around. The nearest tree cover was at the bottom of the pass, a good half-mile, and she knew they had nowhere near that much time.


    ¡°The Dragonmounts are here!¡±


    ¡°What? How can you tell?¡± asked Ulgar.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± said Malik. ¡°We have to hide! Quick!¡±


    A sound echoed across the mountains like waves crashing in the distance. They hurried down the mountainside, stags sliding on the loose rocks and dirt.


    Rykus leapt into the air, shooting down the mountain. His stag reared back, and Ulgar snatched the reins.


    ¡°Where¡¯s he going?¡± Surel demanded, voice trembling.


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Over there!¡± Malik pointed to a spot a few hundred yards down and to their right. Captain Rykus waved to them from an outcropping of boulders.


    The rushing sound grew louder, somewhere beyond the mountain, perhaps up in the clouds. The rage in her spirit was a gods-damned tempest.


    They rode hard, as fast as they dared push the beasts on the loose terrain. Surel¡¯s stag slid, and she nearly slipped off as it scrambled to find purchase.


    Malik pulled up beside her and steadied her, and on they rode. The ground leveled out, short alpine grass making the going easier.


    Captain Rykus stood at the edge of an enormous boulder the size of a small hut. He dropped to his belly and disappeared down into a space.


    A sound like a wind-blown sail roared beyond the pass. Riese glanced back to see the breathtaking, fearsome outline of a dragon cresting the peak far to their right. Its back was to them.


    Ulgar leapt off his stag and frantically untethered the reins. He sent the beast away with a whip to its rear, and it shot toward the forest below. The others followed suit. Riese followed and then Surel and Malik, and their stags took off down the pass. Birds shot out of the treetops, screeching with terror.


    Ulgar reached Rykus first, and slipped into the space below the boulders.


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    A loud rush of wind erupted directly behind them.


    Riese didn¡¯t dare look back. She gripped Surel¡¯s hand tight and pushed her forward.


    They passed a smaller boulder. Almost there. Riese slipped, knee scraping.


    The hole was barely large enough to fit through. Surel went first. She shoved Malik after her.


    A roar filled her spirit.


    Malik was trying to squeeze through, but Riese knew it was too tight for them all. The others tugged Malik downward.


    Riese pulled back, wresting her hand free. Wind rushed overhead. A dark shadow descended over them.


    Riese scrambled back to the smaller boulder and leapt beneath a small overhang of dark rock, pressing her body against the cold stone.


    Her dragon¡¯s spirit had gone still as death.


    The shadow rushed overhead. Not one, but three dragons soaring from glacial pass. The magnificent beasts were so much larger than any dragyr. Their wings spanned fifty feet at least, and each flap roared, echoing across the mountain tops.


    The stags let out a distant cry somewhere below, and she could sense they¡¯d caught the attention of the dragons.


    Either that will be our doom or our salvation, she thought.


    One dragon banked at the other end of the valley. The other two headed further down the pass. Terror overwhelmed her. All it would take was for one of the beasts to fly back the way they¡¯d come, and she would be spotted. But she dared not move or risk the same.


    Another roar overhead.


    Riese did not move. She held her breath as a fourth shadow passed over them.


    The entire valley resounded with the cacophonous rush of wings echoing off the mountains, down the valley.


    But slowly, the sound grew more faint.


    Riese held still, waiting for one of the beasts to circle back, but the winds continued to fade. She was sure the sound was now coming from the valley below.


    Perhaps the stags had saved them after all. Wild ones ran all through these passes.


    Riese waited until the world was silent for several minutes before she dared to move.


    Then, she felt a soft whisper from the egg on her back.


    Safe.


    Riese emerged from the overhang. The clouds had drawn tight over the valley once more. She hurried to the others.


    Malik and Surel scrambled out of the small cave. Riese grabbed Ulgar¡¯s hand and helped him. Rykus followed, his fingers shaking at his sides.


    ¡°We have to hurry to the tree line before they come back,¡± said Malik.


    Rykus turned to Riese. ¡°They knew our path. They were searching for us.¡±


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Surel muttered.


    ¡°All the more reason to move!¡± said Malik.


    They sprinted down the valley. Riese was glad to be off the sheer, slick surface of the mountainside. The grass and dirt of the valley floor made for a much easier traverse, despite the steep descent to the forest.


    Rykus remained close to Riese, though he didn¡¯t speak again until they¡¯d reached the cover of sprawling socha trees.


    ¡°Those dragons were flying toward our exact route,¡± Rykus said. ¡°They knew where to look.¡±


    Riese nodded. ¡°But Ava wasn¡¯t supposed to approach the Atticans for several more hours. You don¡¯t think¡­¡±


    ¡°They found her,¡± Rykus said softly. ¡°I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± said Riese.


    Malik and Ulgar both shook their heads.


    ¡°How much do you think Ruan figured out about our plan?¡± Malik asked.


    ¡°Enough to be dangerous, it would seem.¡±


    ¡°Do you think he knew about the firebomb?¡±


    Rykus hesitated.


    ¡°What now?¡± asked Ulgar.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the big deal?¡± asked Surel. ¡°That means they¡¯ll be distracted, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the quickest path,¡± said Riese, realizing what she meant.


    ¡°What are you proposing?¡± Rykus asked.


    Surel shrugged. ¡°The only way to get to the Spires with a whole bunch of people is through that pass. But we could go another way.¡±


    Riese nodded. She¡¯d never done it, but she knew plenty of hunters who had. ¡°It¡¯s possible.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯ll be slower,¡± said Malik. ¡°And if we don¡¯t blow the pass¡­¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t get to the pass,¡± said Surel.


    ¡°Both of you are right,¡± said Rykus.


    ¡°We are?¡±


    ¡°They may lose a couple hours looking for us. But if there are no signs of a threat, they¡¯ll get wise quick. But I can fly ahead.¡±


    ¡°And set the bomb off alone?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Rykus removed his pack containing the firebomb and handed it to Malik. ¡°In truth, I never liked that part of the plan, and I think I know a better way to delay them. One that may buy you even more time.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you propose this earlier?¡± Riese asked.


    Rykus smiled. ¡°Because I didn¡¯t know that the emperor himself would be flying on this mission.¡±

 53 - Ilyetha

    Urla marched on foot at the head of her company. The strange alkine beasts were no quicker than her own pace, and they¡¯d felt strange beneath her legs. Unlike her husband and son, she¡¯d always preferred her own boots to a mount. She had trained all her life to cross mountains and deserts on foot. She¡¯d marched all the way from Attica to Taika in her youth.


    Though that memory triggered conflicted thoughts. Of her last conversation with the shaman before he betrayed Attica. Betrayed her. Then again, Joren had fought against her at that time too.


    Once an enemy, always an enemy.


    The Valucians were proof enough of that old saying. The shaman¡¯s wife had confirmed her husband¡¯s betrayal, still, Urla could not quite settle her mind.


    She had liked Joren, even trusted him. That¡¯s what happened when you fought off Morphs with a man. The bond that she shared with all the Bloody Company.


    Now, that man¡¯s family had run off with her prized prisoner and left the Lady Knight in their wake. They had willfully hidden the Rykus girl under her nose, and supported a rebellion that might threaten the future of the empire itself.


    And yet, they had spared Ruan¡¯s life.


    ¡°Why?¡± Urla had asked Madri upon interrogating her. The Faltari had remained loyal to Attica for generations. ¡°Why die for this?¡±


    The woman had given an infuriatingly simple answer. ¡°My husband believed it was right.¡±


    ¡°And Ruan?¡±


    ¡°He helped you son for the same reason.¡±


    It was a maddening paradox.


    Madri rode an alkine a short distance behind Urla in the march. The woman¡¯s hands were chained, and she was watched at all times by Sergeant Roak, along with that annoying young prick, Aram Tulsein.


    Tul had remained in Yerida, and his son represented his clan in his father¡¯s stead. Elder Dannsein also remained behind, having suffered excruciating burns.


    With the young shaman missing, and Joren dead, Olma Marudeil had elected to lead a large company of Faltari to Valgland until this mission was done.


    Urla had thought it a prudent decision when Joren proposed it. And she still did. At this point, the fewer Faltari on this island, the better.


    She didn¡¯t trust any of them.


    An operation like this could take several days. To extract a veritable treasure trove of dragon eggs from a gate at the top of a floating mountain range. And there were the rebels to deal with.


    A roar erupted from the clouds, and all eyes shot skyward.


    The sight of red dragon wings soaring over the Faltari peaks sent shivers down Urla¡¯s spine. A sharp thrill that swiftly morphed into sorrow. The magnificent winged beast bore the same earthy, clay-red coloration as Voltari. For so many years, the sign of red wings on the horizon brought a sweeping sense of relief and excitement. Her husband was alive. The Dragonmounts had triumphed.


    Now, it brought trepidation. Urla knew from the coloration that it belonged to the emperor¡¯s military mount. His white one was mainly ceremonial, though few outside the Dragon Lords knew it.


    Considering the dire circumstances, Urla had half-expected the emperor¡¯s wrath upon his arrival, or at least outrage. The matter of the shaman was a failure of hers and hers alone.


    But Athanasius was collected and focused. After briefing on the events of the previous night, he and the other mounts took off to scour the forests leading up to the Spires.


    Now, his red dragon dipped its head, as it soared downward, and Urla spotted a second rider behind the emperor. Her heart raced.


    She picked up her pace as the dragon soared down from overcast skies and swept out over the spearpoint tops of the snowpine trees. Great bony wings stretched wide as sails as the dragon slowed. It flapped hard at the last, pulling itself upward, and a loud rush echoed over the valley.


    The thud of the landing sent tremors down the crude mountain road.


    Urla resisted the urge to race forward, fearing such passion might be taken the wrong way by the emperor.


    Athanasius dismounted first, and reached up to help Ruan slide down the dragon¡¯s side. As Ruan¡¯s feet hit the uneven ground of the Soul Road, he nearly lost his balance, but the emperor held fast to his arm, steadying him.


    Considering how she¡¯d left him, it was a remarkable sight to see him awake at all.


    Urla marched forward. Ruan stood tall and proud at the emperor¡¯s side, the dragon drawing up its neck and pluming its wings. The sight stirred something in Urla. Regret? Sorrow?


    Ruan¡¯s head was turned slightly away from her, but he perked up as she neared. Though she knew instantly something was wrong.


    She pounded her fist against her chest in salute. Ruan returned it, but the action was delayed.


    ¡°Your son was quite brave, Consul Pelasius,¡± Athanasius said. ¡°Even with his injury, he still managed to escape the rebels, and deliver one of their own in the process.¡±


    Another dragon soared over the peak, two riders once more.


    Urla turned back to Ruan. ¡°Injury?¡±


    ¡°The work of that shaman traitor,¡± said the emperor.


    ¡°When I woke, all was darkness,¡± Ruan said, no fear or sorrow in his voice.


    Urla nodded, understanding the delay in his salute, the strangeness of her son¡¯s gaze.


    Gods above¡­


    ¡°I assure you when we return to Attica, I will make sure my healers do all they can. But there is some fortune in the tragedy, and I believe it was no less his path. Your son brings valuable information from his time with the enemy.¡±


    ***


    Urla sent Roak with a group of her ten best archers on ahead of the company. They would scour the region on the ground, while dragons searched the air for the rebels.


    As a captain, it was her instinct to go with them, to be in the midst of the action, leading the search. But her role as Consul demanded something different of her. She could not just go sprinting off into unknown woods. Nevertheless, she found herself aching for the hunt as she led the company to the passage between the mountains.


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    Urla rode one of the alkine now, wishing the wooly beasts moved faster. Ruan rode behind her, holding on to her shoulders like a child. He said little as they descended into the narrow valley, at the foot of the Sleeping Woman.


    ¡°Whatever happens, I¡¯m grateful you¡¯re alive,¡± she said. ¡°Any injury is better than death.¡±


    ¡°Not very Attican of you,¡± Ruan murmured.


    ¡°But no less Fjuriin,¡± said Urla. ¡°You have only so much sway over your path. But just because¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to speak of it right now,¡± Ruan said.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Urla glanced over at Ava Rykus, whose alkine was tethered to two other mounted soldiers. Her hands were bound behind her back, and her body jostled as the strange mountain beast ambled up the road.


    Ava scowled, saying nothing, though Urla caught the occasional glare in her son¡¯s direction. That gave her some satisfaction at least.


    Captain Rykus and the Faltari rider are here. How did they get here so quickly? Where are the others?


    There were yet no signs of the runeship or dark flying beasts, according to the Mounts.


    Still, Urla was on edge. With Ruan convinced the rebels were heading toward a narrow pass to cut off their route to the sacred valley, it seemed the emperor¡¯s plan was working.


    All she could do was press forward, and trust in orders she¡¯d been tasked to carry out.


    March on as normal. Give no appearance of urgency.


    Most of her company knew nothing of the dangers. But if they feared, they did not show it. The arrival of the emperor himself had only intensified the resolve of the Bloody Company. This was their chance to make their mark.


    The mountains plunged into the skies on either side of the wide valley. The wind grew sharp and crisp. Thick copses of white-limbed socha trees lined the foothills of the mountain ahead, leaves blazing brighter shades of red the higher they went.


    The peak at the other end was one gargantuan swath of rock. Its highest point, indeed looked much like a woman¡¯s head with her head drawn back, patches of brush could almost be her hair, sweeping down the left side of the mountain. A sharp ridge formed her neck, sweeping up to another rise, forming a torso. A long flat stretch of peak extending far, before rising to one last peak, looking like knees raised. And the likeness ended.


    It was so human in shape, Urla might have sworn it had been fashioned so. Perhaps the Faltari had been a band of ancient masons long ago.


    She chuckled softly to herself.


    The shaman¡¯s wife brought her mount abreast of Urla¡¯s, flanked by Caliphus and another member of the Bloody Company.


    ¡°Remarkable,¡± Urla muttered, gazing out at the mountain. ¡°I¡¯m surprised she¡¯s not regarded as some sort of goddess.¡±


    ¡°There are only the All Mother and the All Father, and they yet live,¡± said Madri. ¡°But according to some legends, the mountain was formed in honor of one of the greatest of their children.¡±


    ¡°Their children being¡­¡±


    ¡°Us.¡±


    ¡°Rather high view of yourselves, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°All people are their children, but we Faltari have been entrusted with special gifts, and a solemn duty. Beginning with her.¡± Madri gestured to the mountain. ¡°My grandmother told me a story of a mighty woman named Ilyetha. The wife of the leader of the Crossing. But I know you Atticans harbor a different tale.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t we all? This sounds a bit like a wives¡¯ tale we tell ourselves in Attica. Go on.¡±


    ¡°Ilyetha¡¯s husband died only years after the Crossing, and there was much deliberation about how to proceed. They had no children, and so there was no obvious heir. Ilyetha had a viable claim, but I suppose you can imagine how that went.¡±


    Urla nodded.


    ¡°Thousands of people had Crossed by that time, and the Great Curse that plagued the previous world still lingered I the hearts of men. There was a great and violent fractioning of our people. In those days, everyone possessed magic abilities, and it could be a terrifying power. In the wake of this conflict, many left the island to inhabit other lands, forming the other peoples of ?rith¨¨a. While other clans formed and dispersed, Ilyetha remained behind with a small band of our ancient kin. They were not the greatest, they were not the most powerful, but like Ilyetha, they were wise. They understood the blessing magic was. Something to create, not destroy. It¡¯s for this reason, I believe, that magic has endured here, on Faltara, as it has. All are the children of the All Mother and the All Father, but most have forgotten their identity. Even we Faltari forget at times. Even the shaman himself may forget for a time.¡±


    ¡°Madri, I¡­¡±


    ¡°My husband knew exactly who he was at the end. The same devotion to the gods that drove him to save your son¡¯s life also drove him to help that girl over there, and her cause.¡±


    Silence lingered for a moment.


    Anger rose in Urla¡¯s chest like a flame ignited. But she tried not to let it show. Whatever was ahead, she needed the shaman¡¯s wife to think well of her. To believe she could be swayed.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Urla asked. ¡°To Ilyetha? After her husband died, and she became a leader of your people.¡±


    Madri shrugged. ¡°She stepped down from her seat as chieftain. She formed a council. Remarried, and despite old age, she bore a son. A son, who would go on to form the four clans of Faltara. But it was her example that inspired the formation of my people. She did not vie for power, though she was as powerful as any of the men who fought in that great and terrible war at the beginning of ?rith¨¨a. She played a different game. That was her strength.¡±


    Aram Tulsein rode over, shooting a glance at Madri, before meeting Urla¡¯s gaze. ¡°We¡¯re near our destination, Lady Consul.¡±


    The emperor¡¯s red dragon circled the skies above her, scanning the pass for threats on the ground. Another blue dragon flew further out, searching the western passes.


    Urla examined the mountain ahead, but saw nothing that looked like the entrance to a canyon. ¡°Where?¡±


    Aram pointed to a depression near the base of the Sleeping Woman.


    A strand of rock rose from the foothills. It had looked like the woman¡¯s arm from a distance, but as they neared, Urla noticed enclaves in the rock.


    ¡°The Passage lies there, the fingers of¡ª¡±


    A screech filled the skies.


    The emperor¡¯s dragon banked hard as something shot from the valley floor, straight into the sky.


    Straight at the emperor.


    ***


    Captain Adrius Rykus shot from his hiding place like a dead star from its home in the heavens, raining down upon the world in a streak of light.


    With magic thrumming through his body, Rykus was filled with a peace he¡¯d never known in all his life.


    No more striving. No more sorrow. No more fear and worry over his wife or daughter. They were in the hands of the gods now.


    His mission was set before him, and for once, Rykus understood¡ªnothing more depended on him.


    Only this last act.


    This infernal distraction.


    Perhaps, the emperor would die.


    But Rykus knew it didn¡¯t matter. The act of the attack alone would keep the Attican company distracted long enough that they would not dare passage until morning.


    Would it be enough time for the rest of the plan? For Ava? For Deven? For the band of rebels he¡¯d trained for years.


    That was out of his hands.


    And releasing that burden seemed to send him flying all the faster.


    The air was bitter cold on his face, stinging his eyes, despite the intense warmth of magic coursing through him as he rose higher and higher. Faster than any bird. Faster, even, than a dragon.


    Rykus had learned to use magic to fly from his father. An ancient Valucian secret. One he¡¯d only been able to nourish in the mountains of his family¡¯s isle. Beyond the sight of the empire and its many, many spies.


    The Elyans called it Conjuri magic. The ability to push back against the elements of the world. But even the Elyans had not understood that there were elements in the air as well. It was a revelation that had won him an audience, and the support of a company of their Morphs.


    We are the Watchers at the edge of the world. The Bringers of truth and justice.


    His father had instilled this in him, as he had instilled it in Ava.


    It was not just about dragons, or Valucia, or even the Attican Empire.


    It was the truth of the Crossing, and the laws of magic.


    The future of ?rith¨¨a.


    Ancient wisdom paired with the audacious sorcery of the east. The world would never be the same.


    It saddened Rykus, knowing he would not live to see that future.


    But it would live on in his daughter.


    Thanks to this final act.


    Rykus shot through the sky. Higher.


    The emperor¡¯s dragon twisted sharply. High above the valley. Another dragon roared from the other end of the valley.


    Too far.


    The emperor¡¯s dragon lurched and roared. Fire shot across the sky in a sweeping rush.


    Rykus¡¯s face was hot, but the flames swept out below his feet. He raised his blade before him. The very runemarked Kirithian blade that had earned him his seat as a lord in Attica.


    The emperor reared back on the dragon¡¯s back, his eyes wide with fear. He reached for his sword.


    Rykus struck the emperor like a lance. Rykus¡¯s blade plunged between runemarked plates at the armpit.


    Athanasius seized with pain, hands slipping from their grips on the dragon¡¯s scales. Rykus and the emperor both launched from the dragon¡¯s back together.


    The emperor met his gaze for a moment. Wide with terror, the fear of an imminent death.


    Dragon wings swept out above, blotting out the sky.


    Rykus lost his grip on the emperor.


    His magic was utterly spent, and he could not slow his fall.


    His body whorled through the air.


    Spiraling, plummeting.


    Rykus was at peace.

 54 - Fall

    Urla¡¯s body ached with the same raw sensation that had stricken her in the midst of battle as she saw her husband¡¯s dragonfall.


    Utter terror. Helpless fear.


    So overwhelming, she¡¯d nearly fallen herself to a Sigan barbarian¡¯s scimitar.


    The entire company froze, gazing upward. Helpless.


    Two bodies fell.


    The emperor¡¯s dragon dove.


    One body plummeted to the ground and crumpled on an outcropping of rocks with a horrific crunch.


    The other neared the trees. Black and crimson cloak trailing.


    The dragon lurched ahead, snatched the emperor from the air as it plunged into the trees at the base of the mountain.


    Urla lost sight of the emperor as the dragon curled. Branches exploded from the edge of the forest with a devastating crack.


    The world went still.


    Urla sprinted across the rocky terrain, a desperate prayer to the All Mother on her lips. Soldiers swarmed around her. On foot. On alkine. The ground thundered.


    The dragon did not stir as they neared.


    Trees were decimated as though a firebomb had exploded. The dragon lay curled against the ruined trunks of toppled trees. Blood coated the stony ground everywhere.


    Urla cursed herself. She had seen Rykus fly during the runeship attack. But she¡¯d never for a moment considered such a threat on the Dragon Emperor. It was a gods-damned suicide attack. Man against dragon. So bold, it had succeeded.


    The dragon¡¯s wings were drawn tight against its body, like a child cowering from a dream terror. Its chest did not move, and Urla knew it was dead. She could not see the emperor for the wings.


    ¡°Pry them open!¡± Urla shouted.


    Soldiers leapt in, pulling, jerking, prying the gargantuan dragon wings. They were large as a mast and sails, and locked tight in death. It took a dozen men to prize them away.


    The emperor lay curled in the dragon¡¯s rear claws, hugged tight against her chest. More blood.


    Urla stepped closer. His face was pale, and a surge of dread filled her.


    Then, Athanasius shuddered, drew a faint breath, releasing a soft whistle, then, went still. She grasped his hand. No response.


    A few seconds passed, and breath came again, whistling softly, like a faint wind over the narrow entrance of a cave.


    Athanasius¡¯s nose was caved in and bloody. Lips barely parted with the breaths.


    Soldiers latched on to the emperor¡¯s limbs, preparing to pull while others prepared to pry the claws apart.


    A woman shoved her way forward.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move him yet! I need to examine his spine!¡±


    A slender woman in grey robes slipped past the others and took charge. Cedana was the head medic of the Bloody Company, hailing from the cruel canyonlands of Southern Attica, and she knew her way around traumatic injuries. Green robed imperial healers pressed around, but Cedana barked at them to stay back.


    All went silent. The emperor¡¯s breaths were tepid and far apart.


    ¡°The claws,¡± Cedana said. ¡°They¡¯re choking off his breaths. He won¡¯t survive much longer on such little air. We have to loosen them, but don¡¯t bloody move the emperor. Careful, careful!¡±


    Soldiers painstakingly worked to pry open the dragon¡¯s claws, which encircled the emperor¡¯s torso, while also taking extra care not to jostle Athanasius¡¯s body in the process.


    Once the claws were loosened, the emperor breathed more easily, though the whistling persisted.


    Cedana knelt down and carefully examined him. The green-robed imperial healers arrived and tried to take over, but they quickly caved to Cedana¡¯s forceful words.


    ¡°Green cloaks barely know their way around a broken wrist, let alone such a fall!¡±


    Once Cedana had verified that the emperor¡¯s spine was not broken, soldiers carefully hefted him onto the stretcher.


    Cedana turned back to the caravan and cursed. ¡°What? No one thought to erect a healer¡¯s tent?¡± The healer¡¯s scathing gaze fell on Caliphus. The young lieutenant glanced to Urla.


    The sun had gone beyond the mountains, and night would come swiftly. They would not be able to leave this valley tonight.


    ¡°Get on it, soldier. Make camp. We¡¯ll need scouts to scour the woods before nightfall. Set a perimeter. The canyon too.¡±


    ¡°Er, of course!¡±


    ¡°And find that rebel bastard¡¯s body!¡±


    Caliphus barked orders, and soldiers hurried off.


    Once Cedana was satisfied with the straps holding Athanasius to the stretcher, she allowed the green cloaks to draw near and help move him.


    Urla took one last look at the emperor¡¯s dragon. Its back was mottled with bruises from the fall. Wings tattered from the collision of the trees. She had offered her life that the emperor might live.


    If only her husband¡¯s dragon had been able to manage such a sacrificial act.


    Voltari had been pierced by a dragon arrow, straight through the chest. Her husband was thrown from his mount.


    She could still picture him falling.


    ***


    An hour after Rykus left, Riese and Malik managed to track two of their mountains stags. Malik hadn¡¯t lost all his hunter¡¯s sense during the past two years of shaman training.


    They crossed the forests leading up into the mountains swiftly. Occasionally, they glimpsed the outline of dragon wings far above, but the forests were thick, and the dragons never came nearly as low as their first encounter. The last time they saw them, it was nearing evenfall, and a dragon cry echoed across the valley. There was another distant cry, somewhere beyond. Dragons calling across the island.


    Riese went silent. Her brow furled, a grimace on her face.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Malik asked.


    She reached absently for the egg in her pack, fingers brushing against the coarse fabric.


    ¡°Dragonfall. They¡¯re mourning.¡±


    Shivers shot down Malik¡¯s arms. He drew his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure,¡± asked Ulgar.


    Riese nodded. ¡°Dragons share a bond with their riders, but also with others of their kind. A spiritual sense, maybe. I¡¯m learning all this as it comes. Same way he sensed them before they reached us back beyond the glacial pass.¡±


    ¡°Can they sense him?¡± Ulgar asked.


    Riese hesitated. ¡°They share their sense freely. Not knowing he can sense it. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s sharing back. But this¡­ ¡± She reached for the right side of her chest, where her spirit resides. And Malik could sense the pain too, from his friend¡¯s sorrow.


    ¡°He did it then,¡± Surel said softly.


    Riese nodded. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she took her satchel in her lap and held it tight as they continued through the forest.


    ¡°Rykus took down a bloody dragon,¡± Ulgar muttered after a long silence.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Surel said.


    Riese said nothing.


    ¡°Do you¡­ think he survived?¡± Ulgar asked.


    Malik sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think he meant to.¡±


    The silence returned till they neared the edge of the vast forest.


    ¡°So, your dragon¡¯s a he, is it?¡± Malik asked, desperate to lighten the load on his mind.


    Despite the sorrow emanating from her spirit, she managed a smile at this. ¡°I think he¡¯s going to hatch soon. I can feel it.¡±


    ¡°Best hope not tonight,¡± said Ulgar. ¡°Last thing we need is childbirth in the bloody mountains.¡±


    Riese chuckled, coming back to herself. ¡°Not exactly the same. Dragons aren¡¯t nearly so helpless at birth.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? How do you know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve a sense too.¡±


    It was near dark when they reached the edge of the forest. No signs of dragons above. They urged their stags across a wide expanse of short grass and crushed boulders, fast as they dared, until they reached the base of a harrowing mountain.


    A sweeping climb of loose scree, leading up to a treacherous peak of enormous boulders. They left the stags behind andbegan to climb.


    Darkness came swiftly, as they picked their way up the mountain.


    Enhanced with the occasional use of hish focused on their eyes, all four of them were able to aid their ascent through the treacherous passes leading to Kalengal Valley.


    Malik urged them to use it sparingly. Gods knew, they¡¯d need all the spiritual strength they could muster. To become the first of their people to dare a second Ascent and a return to the Abyss.


    Not to mention the dragons hunting them, and the imperial company marching for the same destination.


    But they were descendants of the gods, gifted with the power of their breath, and they had a mission before them that could determine the future of all ?rith¨¨a.


    A mission that Malik¡¯s father had given his life for. That Ava and Captain Rykus had given themselves over to the enemy for.


    And now, it fell to them.


    First, though, they must brave the night.


    Urla¡¯s body ached with the same raw sensation that had stricken her in the midst of battle as she saw her husband¡¯s dragonfall.


    Utter terror. Helpless fear.


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    So overwhelming, she¡¯d nearly fallen herself to a Sigan barbarian¡¯s scimitar.


    The entire company froze, gazing upward. Helpless.


    Two bodies fell.


    The emperor¡¯s dragon dove.


    One body plummeted to the ground and crumpled on an outcropping of rocks with a horrific crunch.


    The other neared the trees. Black and crimson cloak trailing.


    The dragon lurched ahead, snatched the emperor from the air as it plunged into the trees at the base of the mountain.


    Urla lost sight of the emperor as the dragon curled. Branches exploded from the edge of the forest with a devastating crack.


    The world went still.


    Urla sprinted across the rocky terrain, a desperate prayer to the All Mother on her lips. Soldiers swarmed around her. On foot. On alkine. The ground thundered.


    The dragon did not stir as they neared.


    Trees were decimated as though a firebomb had exploded. The dragon lay curled against the ruined trunks of toppled trees. Blood coated the stony ground everywhere.


    Urla cursed herself. She had seen Rykus fly during the runeship attack. But she¡¯d never for a moment considered such a threat on the Dragon Emperor. It was a gods-damned suicide attack. Man against dragon. So bold, it had succeeded.


    The dragon¡¯s wings were drawn tight against its body, like a child cowering from a dream terror. Its chest did not move, and Urla knew it was dead. She could not see the emperor for the wings.


    ¡°Pry them open!¡± Urla shouted.


    Soldiers leapt in, pulling, jerking, prying the gargantuan dragon wings. They were large as a mast and sails, and locked tight in death. It took a dozen men to prize them away.


    The emperor lay curled in the dragon¡¯s rear claws, hugged tight against her chest. More blood.


    Urla stepped closer. His face was pale, and a surge of dread filled her.


    Then, Athanasius shuddered, drew a faint breath, releasing a soft whistle, then, went still. She grasped his hand. No response.


    A few seconds passed, and breath came again, whistling softly, like a faint wind over the narrow entrance of a cave.


    Athanasius¡¯s nose was caved in and bloody. Lips barely parted with the breaths.


    Soldiers latched on to the emperor¡¯s limbs, preparing to pull while others prepared to pry the claws apart.


    A woman shoved her way forward.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move him yet! I need to examine his spine!¡±


    A slender woman in grey robes slipped past the others and took charge. Cedana was the head medic of the Bloody Company, hailing from the cruel canyonlands of Southern Attica, and she knew her way around traumatic injuries. Green robed imperial healers pressed around, but Cedana barked at them to stay back.


    All went silent. The emperor¡¯s breaths were tepid and far apart.


    ¡°The claws,¡± Cedana said. ¡°They¡¯re choking off his breaths. He won¡¯t survive much longer on such little air. We have to loosen them, but don¡¯t bloody move the emperor. Careful, careful!¡±


    Soldiers painstakingly worked to pry open the dragon¡¯s claws, which encircled the emperor¡¯s torso, while also taking extra care not to jostle Athanasius¡¯s body in the process.


    Once the claws were loosened, the emperor breathed more easily, though the whistling persisted.


    Cedana knelt down and carefully examined him. The green-robed imperial healers arrived and tried to take over, but they quickly caved to Cedana¡¯s forceful words.


    ¡°Green cloaks barely know their way around a broken wrist, let alone such a fall!¡±


    Once Cedana had verified that the emperor¡¯s spine was not broken, soldiers carefully hefted him onto the stretcher.


    Cedana turned back to the caravan and cursed. ¡°What? No one thought to erect a healer¡¯s tent?¡± The healer¡¯s scathing gaze fell on Caliphus. The young lieutenant glanced to Urla.


    The sun had gone beyond the mountains, and night would come swiftly. They would not be able to leave this valley tonight.


    ¡°Get on it, soldier. Make camp. We¡¯ll need scouts to scour the woods before nightfall. Set a perimeter. The canyon too.¡±


    ¡°Er, of course!¡±


    ¡°And find that rebel bastard¡¯s body!¡±


    Caliphus barked orders, and soldiers hurried off.


    Once Cedana was satisfied with the straps holding Athanasius to the stretcher, she allowed the green cloaks to draw near and help move him.


    Urla took one last look at the emperor¡¯s dragon. Its back was mottled with bruises from the fall. Wings tattered from the collision of the trees. She had offered her life that the emperor might live.


    If only her husband¡¯s dragon had been able to manage such a sacrificial act.


    Voltari had been pierced by a dragon arrow, straight through the chest. Her husband was thrown from his mount.


    She could still picture him falling.


    ***


    An hour after Rykus left, Riese and Malik managed to track two of their mountains stags. Malik hadn¡¯t lost all his hunter¡¯s sense during the past two years of shaman training.


    They crossed the forests leading up into the mountains swiftly. Occasionally, they glimpsed the outline of dragon wings far above, but the forests were thick, and the dragons never came nearly as low as their first encounter. The last time they saw them, it was nearing evenfall, and a dragon cry echoed across the valley. There was another distant cry, somewhere beyond. Dragons calling across the island.


    Riese went silent. Her brow furled, a grimace on her face.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Malik asked.


    She reached absently for the egg in her pack, fingers brushing against the coarse fabric.


    ¡°Dragonfall. They¡¯re mourning.¡±


    Shivers shot down Malik¡¯s arms. He drew his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure,¡± asked Ulgar.


    Riese nodded. ¡°Dragons share a bond with their riders, but also with others of their kind. A spiritual sense, maybe. I¡¯m learning all this as it comes. Same way he sensed them before they reached us back beyond the glacial pass.¡±


    ¡°Can they sense him?¡± Ulgar asked.


    Riese hesitated. ¡°They share their sense freely. Not knowing he can sense it. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s sharing back. But this¡­ ¡± She reached for the right side of her chest, where her spirit resides. And Malik could sense the pain too, from his friend¡¯s sorrow.


    ¡°He did it then,¡± Surel said softly.


    Riese nodded. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she took her satchel in her lap and held it tight as they continued through the forest.


    ¡°Rykus took down a bloody dragon,¡± Ulgar muttered after a long silence.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Surel said.


    Riese said nothing.


    ¡°Do you¡­ think he survived?¡± Ulgar asked.


    Malik sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think he meant to.¡±


    The silence returned till they neared the edge of the vast forest.


    ¡°So, your dragon¡¯s a he, is it?¡± Malik asked, desperate to lighten the load on his mind.


    Despite the sorrow emanating from her spirit, she managed a smile at this. ¡°I think he¡¯s going to hatch soon. I can feel it.¡±


    ¡°Best hope not tonight,¡± said Ulgar. ¡°Last thing we need is childbirth in the bloody mountains.¡±


    Riese chuckled, coming back to herself. ¡°Not exactly the same. Dragons aren¡¯t nearly so helpless at birth.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? How do you know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve a sense too.¡±


    It was near dark when they reached the edge of the forest. No signs of dragons above. They urged their stags across a wide expanse of short grass and crushed boulders, fast as they dared, until they reached the base of a harrowing mountain.


    A sweeping climb of loose scree, leading up to a treacherous peak of enormous boulders. They left the stags behind andbegan to climb.


    Darkness came swiftly, as they picked their way up the mountain.


    Enhanced with the occasional use of hish focused on their eyes, all four of them were able to aid their ascent through the treacherous passes leading to Kalengal Valley.


    Malik urged them to use it sparingly. Gods knew, they¡¯d need all the spiritual strength they could muster. To become the first of their people to dare a second Ascent and a return to the Abyss.


    Not to mention the dragons hunting them, and the imperial company marching for the same destination.


    But they were descendants of the gods, gifted with the power of their breath, and they had a mission before them that could determine the future of all ?rith¨¨a.


    A mission that Malik¡¯s father had given his life for. That Ava and Captain Rykus had given themselves over to the enemy for.


    And now, it fell to them.


    First, though, they must brave the night.


    Urla¡¯s body ached with the same raw sensation that had stricken her in the midst of battle as she saw her husband¡¯s dragonfall.


    Utter terror. Helpless fear.


    So overwhelming, she¡¯d nearly fallen herself to a Sigan barbarian¡¯s scimitar.


    The entire company froze, gazing upward. Helpless.


    Two bodies fell.


    The emperor¡¯s dragon dove.


    One body plummeted to the ground and crumpled on an outcropping of rocks with a horrific crunch.


    The other neared the trees. Black and crimson cloak trailing.


    The dragon lurched ahead, snatched the emperor from the air as it plunged into the trees at the base of the mountain.


    Urla lost sight of the emperor as the dragon curled. Branches exploded from the edge of the forest with a devastating crack.


    The world went still.


    Urla sprinted across the rocky terrain, a desperate prayer to the All Mother on her lips. Soldiers swarmed around her. On foot. On alkine. The ground thundered.


    The dragon did not stir as they neared.


    Trees were decimated as though a firebomb had exploded. The dragon lay curled against the ruined trunks of toppled trees. Blood coated the stony ground everywhere.


    Urla cursed herself. She had seen Rykus fly during the runeship attack. But she¡¯d never for a moment considered such a threat on the Dragon Emperor. It was a gods-damned suicide attack. Man against dragon. So bold, it had succeeded.


    The dragon¡¯s wings were drawn tight against its body, like a child cowering from a dream terror. Its chest did not move, and Urla knew it was dead. She could not see the emperor for the wings.


    ¡°Pry them open!¡± Urla shouted.


    Soldiers leapt in, pulling, jerking, prying the gargantuan dragon wings. They were large as a mast and sails, and locked tight in death. It took a dozen men to prize them away.


    The emperor lay curled in the dragon¡¯s rear claws, hugged tight against her chest. More blood.


    Urla stepped closer. His face was pale, and a surge of dread filled her.


    Then, Athanasius shuddered, drew a faint breath, releasing a soft whistle, then, went still. She grasped his hand. No response.


    A few seconds passed, and breath came again, whistling softly, like a faint wind over the narrow entrance of a cave.


    Athanasius¡¯s nose was caved in and bloody. Lips barely parted with the breaths.


    Soldiers latched on to the emperor¡¯s limbs, preparing to pull while others prepared to pry the claws apart.


    A woman shoved her way forward.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move him yet! I need to examine his spine!¡±


    A slender woman in grey robes slipped past the others and took charge. Cedana was the head medic of the Bloody Company, hailing from the cruel canyonlands of Southern Attica, and she knew her way around traumatic injuries. Green robed imperial healers pressed around, but Cedana barked at them to stay back.


    All went silent. The emperor¡¯s breaths were tepid and far apart.


    ¡°The claws,¡± Cedana said. ¡°They¡¯re choking off his breaths. He won¡¯t survive much longer on such little air. We have to loosen them, but don¡¯t bloody move the emperor. Careful, careful!¡±


    Soldiers painstakingly worked to pry open the dragon¡¯s claws, which encircled the emperor¡¯s torso, while also taking extra care not to jostle Athanasius¡¯s body in the process.


    Once the claws were loosened, the emperor breathed more easily, though the whistling persisted.


    Cedana knelt down and carefully examined him. The green-robed imperial healers arrived and tried to take over, but they quickly caved to Cedana¡¯s forceful words.


    ¡°Green cloaks barely know their way around a broken wrist, let alone such a fall!¡±


    Once Cedana had verified that the emperor¡¯s spine was not broken, soldiers carefully hefted him onto the stretcher.


    Cedana turned back to the caravan and cursed. ¡°What? No one thought to erect a healer¡¯s tent?¡± The healer¡¯s scathing gaze fell on Caliphus. The young lieutenant glanced to Urla.


    The sun had gone beyond the mountains, and night would come swiftly. They would not be able to leave this valley tonight.


    ¡°Get on it, soldier. Make camp. We¡¯ll need scouts to scour the woods before nightfall. Set a perimeter. The canyon too.¡±


    ¡°Er, of course!¡±


    ¡°And find that rebel bastard¡¯s body!¡±


    Caliphus barked orders, and soldiers hurried off.


    Once Cedana was satisfied with the straps holding Athanasius to the stretcher, she allowed the green cloaks to draw near and help move him.


    Urla took one last look at the emperor¡¯s dragon. Its back was mottled with bruises from the fall. Wings tattered from the collision of the trees. She had offered her life that the emperor might live.


    If only her husband¡¯s dragon had been able to manage such a sacrificial act.


    Voltari had been pierced by a dragon arrow, straight through the chest. Her husband was thrown from his mount.


    She could still picture him falling.


    ***


    An hour after Rykus left, Riese and Malik managed to track two of their mountains stags. Malik hadn¡¯t lost all his hunter¡¯s sense during the past two years of shaman training.


    They crossed the forests leading up into the mountains swiftly. Occasionally, they glimpsed the outline of dragon wings far above, but the forests were thick, and the dragons never came nearly as low as their first encounter. The last time they saw them, it was nearing evenfall, and a dragon cry echoed across the valley. There was another distant cry, somewhere beyond. Dragons calling across the island.


    Riese went silent. Her brow furled, a grimace on her face.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Malik asked.


    She reached absently for the egg in her pack, fingers brushing against the coarse fabric.


    ¡°Dragonfall. They¡¯re mourning.¡±


    Shivers shot down Malik¡¯s arms. He drew his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure,¡± asked Ulgar.


    Riese nodded. ¡°Dragons share a bond with their riders, but also with others of their kind. A spiritual sense, maybe. I¡¯m learning all this as it comes. Same way he sensed them before they reached us back beyond the glacial pass.¡±


    ¡°Can they sense him?¡± Ulgar asked.


    Riese hesitated. ¡°They share their sense freely. Not knowing he can sense it. I don¡¯t think he¡¯s sharing back. But this¡­ ¡± She reached for the right side of her chest, where her spirit resides. And Malik could sense the pain too, from his friend¡¯s sorrow.


    ¡°He did it then,¡± Surel said softly.


    Riese nodded. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and she took her satchel in her lap and held it tight as they continued through the forest.


    ¡°Rykus took down a bloody dragon,¡± Ulgar muttered after a long silence.


    ¡°God¡¯s breath,¡± Surel said.


    Riese said nothing.


    ¡°Do you¡­ think he survived?¡± Ulgar asked.


    Malik sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t think he meant to.¡±


    The silence returned till they neared the edge of the vast forest.


    ¡°So, your dragon¡¯s a he, is it?¡± Malik asked, desperate to lighten the load on his mind.


    Despite the sorrow emanating from her spirit, she managed a smile at this. ¡°I think he¡¯s going to hatch soon. I can feel it.¡±


    ¡°Best hope not tonight,¡± said Ulgar. ¡°Last thing we need is childbirth in the bloody mountains.¡±


    Riese chuckled, coming back to herself. ¡°Not exactly the same. Dragons aren¡¯t nearly so helpless at birth.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? How do you know?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve a sense too.¡±


    It was near dark when they reached the edge of the forest. No signs of dragons above. They urged their stags across a wide expanse of short grass and crushed boulders, fast as they dared, until they reached the base of a harrowing mountain.


    A sweeping climb of loose scree, leading up to a treacherous peak of enormous boulders. They left the stags behind andbegan to climb.


    Darkness came swiftly, as they picked their way up the mountain.


    Enhanced with the occasional use of hish focused on their eyes, all four of them were able to aid their ascent through the treacherous passes leading to Kalengal Valley.


    Malik urged them to use it sparingly. Gods knew, they¡¯d need all the spiritual strength they could muster. To become the first of their people to dare a second Ascent and a return to the Abyss.


    Not to mention the dragons hunting them, and the imperial company marching for the same destination.


    But they were descendants of the gods, gifted with the power of their breath, and they had a mission before them that could determine the future of all ?rith¨¨a.


    A mission that Malik¡¯s father had given his life for. That Ava and Captain Rykus had given themselves over to the enemy for.


    And now, it fell to them.


    First, though, they must brave the night.

 55 - Bargaining Chip

    Ava Rykus mourned her father¡¯s death in silence. Once the emperor was taken to the healer¡¯s tent, a small party was sent in search of her father¡¯s body.


    Stakes were driven into the ground in the center of camp, and Ava and Madri were tied with their backs to the wooden poles, hands behind their backs. The angle made Ava¡¯s arms ache.


    Aram Tulsein kept watch, in addition to several Attican soldiers, and when the body was found, the Faltari boy sprinted over to the soldiers and insisted they bring the remains before the rebel¡¯s daughter.


    They carried his remains on a stretcher, covered by a dark cloth. Ava¡¯s spirit splintered, her entire body wracked with an uncontrollable sob. Her breaths were desperate, empty gasps, wrists numbing as she strained against her bonds.


    Aram stood over her. ¡°That¡¯s for my father, you bitch.¡±


    Ava couldn¡¯t speak. She closed her eyes and tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping from her chin on to the cold hard ground.


    Aram seized her face, jerking her neck to the side.


    ¡°He¡¯s here for you to see.¡±


    Ava opened her eyes, and took in the sight anew. His face was caved in, unrecognizable. Skin purple and yellow. More like a heap of flesh and dried blood and shattered bones than a human man.


    Aram¡¯s fingers tightened on her jaw. ¡°You asked for this with your little rebellion. Don¡¯t look away, now.¡±


    ¡°Aram Tulsein!¡± Madri shouted. ¡°Enough!¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t start on me, you traitorous little¡ª¡±


    Thud!


    Ava jerked her head as Aram¡¯s fingers wrenched free. The blur of a man came from somewhere behind her, and Aram tumbled onto his back.


    Ruan Pelasius stepped closer. His personal servant seized Aram by the front of his tunic and lifted him back to his feet. The servant towered over the Faltari boy, and Aram¡¯s confidence vanished. He struggled to free himself.


    Ava felt him reach for hish, but nothing happened. The servant had placed something around the boy¡¯s neck in the scuffle.


    The servant punched Aram in the stomach, and he crumpled to the ground.


    ¡°Resist again and you die, heathen!¡±


    Aram froze.


    It was Ruan¡¯s commanding voice.


    ¡°You have no authority over these prisoners. Or the body of this rebel. Or anyone else,¡± Ruan said evenly, standing over him. ¡°We don¡¯t need you to watch them. We have everything under control.¡±


    Aram grimaced, clutching his reddened jaw. ¡°I was just¡ª¡±


    One more punch to the ribs shut him up.


    ¡°Guards,¡± Ruan addressed the two men who had brought Captain Rykus here in the first place, ¡°take the body to Consul Pelasius, as you were bloody ordered. Then, help finish preparing the camp.¡±


    They nodded nervously, and took the body away.


    ¡°W-what is this?¡± Aram demanded, reaching at the collar around his neck. The servant raised his fist and Aram held still.


    ¡°It¡¯s not meant for you,¡± said Ruan. He held a second collar. ¡°But it will be, if you come near these prisoners again. Understood?¡±


    Aram glared impotently as the servant lifted the runemarked collar off the boy¡¯s neck.


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    ¡°You¡¯re here to help guide the way to these Spires,¡± Ruan said, menacingly. ¡°Nothing more. You¡¯re not here to guard our prisoners. You¡¯re not here to fight our battles. You¡¯re here to point left or fucking right. You got that?¡±


    Aram nodded, blood pouring from his lips.


    ¡°If I catch you here again, you¡¯d better be ready to join them.¡±


    The Pelasius servant shoved him, and Aram scampered away, cursing and muttering to himself.


    Ava looked up. Ruan¡¯s empty eyes stared off. His face was unreadable.


    Without a word, he handed his servant the second collar and left. His servant walked over to Ava and Madri and placed one collar on each of their necks.


    A bloody Attican invention, if ever there was one.


    The servant left, and the numbness set it. Ava had not realized how much of her body¡¯s warmth had been subtle hints of her magic. In minutes, she was shivering.


    Her tears had vanished with the violence. The camp bustled all around as the colors of the sky faded, and evening set in.


    Ava hung her head, tired body drooping. She pushed away the image of her broken father from her mind.


    Instead, she pictured the sight of him streaking across the sky, more free than he¡¯d ever been in all his life. Her father had spent so many years, tied to their island, tied to the ruse that he was a blood-traitor to his own people, tied to tending to her mother, tied to a dream of resistance that never quite materialized.


    All her life, he had wished to use his gifts in battle. For there to be no question of his honor in Valucia.


    A gods-damned dragonfall. Ava smiled. Oh, the songs that will be written about you, Father.


    If they survived this ordeal, it was the sort of act that could rally more rebels in Valucia, whatever their king¡¯s cowardice.


    So long as the story was told. And it would be. Ava must make it so.


    ¡°There¡¯s no greater valor,¡± Madri said softly. ¡°Such a sacrifice.¡±


    ¡°The same could be said for your husband.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    We will make both their deaths worth it before this mission is done, Ava thought.


    ***


    Night descended quickly, and Ava prayed the others were safe. Her stomach ached with hunger, but no soldiers came to offer them sustenance. The Attican company milled about erecting tents, tending fires, musing nervously about what would happen to their beloved emperor. Surely this could not be their path.


    Even without her sense, Ava could feel the tension like a tangible presence infiltrating the camp.


    Dragons circled cloudy skies, scouring the forest and mountains, as well as the Soul Road ahead. Fear lingered in everyone¡¯s minds in the wake of the attack.


    Were there more rebels nearby? Had the runeship returned with more rebels?


    But their emperor¡¯s survival sustained them. There was an arrogance about Atticans, no matter what came their way. Far as Ava could tell from the murmurings of passing soldiers, no one feared failure. They were anxious to fight.


    ¡°How far are the Spires from here?¡± Ava whispered.


    Madri was weary. Her head hung low, chin resting on her chest. Her shoulders shuddered with shivers. But she roused at the words. ¡°Half a day¡¯s journey yet. I think they hoped to march through the night before this. Your father bought some time, I think. Now, we wait.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡±


    Madri smiled. ¡°For what¡¯s coming.¡±


    Finally, a servant came with water and salted venison. The servant said nothing, but Ava noted the blue tower and dragon of House Pelasius on his cloak.


    As Ava neared sleep, a commotion rose across camp. Soldiers rushing. Madri stirred.


    Ava sensed anger, worry, fear. But she was not sure. Gods, if her father had actually managed to assassinate him¡­


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s the¡ª¡±


    Footsteps behind her.


    Urla Pelasius stepped from beyond the nearest tent, accompanied by several soldiers.


    She did not spare Ava a glance. Consul Pelasius strode straight to Madri, knelt in front of her.


    ¡°You spared my son, though he was your enemy. You claim duty towards humanity itself. But how far does that extend?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The emperor is near death.¡±


    Ava¡¯s spirit soared. Could it be?


    ¡°Our healers can do little else for him. The dragon eggs are one thing. They are military pieces on a board. But an outright assassination? That is an evil that could upend our world.¡±


    Yes, Ava thought.


    ¡°You could help him,¡± said Urla.


    Madri lifted her head and looked directly in the woman¡¯s eyes.


    No, Ava thought, aching for her magic. Don¡¯t do it. Don¡¯t be a bloody fool.


    ¡°I did not know your husband for more than a few days,¡± Urla said softly to Madri. ¡°But I think you and I both know that whatever resistance he had in mind, it was not bloodshed.¡±


    ¡°You may be right,¡± said Madri. ¡°But healing your son, an innocent casualty, and healing the man who has ordered the deaths of thousands. Those are very different things. My husband might not have condoned an assassination. But that does not mean he would have saved your emperor.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m asking you,¡± said Urla. ¡°Perhaps you are right. Perhaps the empire is not a force for good. But surely, that is not for one man to decide. This attack gives the rebels a fighting chance, but it by no means guarantees victory, whether the emperor lives or not. What follows, and each individual¡¯s actions, those will not be forgotten. Should your son fail¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you threatening my son?¡± Madri asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m offering you a bargaining chip, should this turn out poorly for you. And a chance to save a life.¡±


    No, Ava thought.


    ¡°Very well,¡± said Madri.


    ¡°What?¡± Ava demanded.


    ¡°Be quiet, girl,¡± Urla said. She peered into Madri¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Take me to your emperor,¡± Madri said.