The Great Convergence Part 17

"Oh. That's nice . . . Myranda? Why did you come here?" she asked.

"I came because something inside of me told me that I would find someone very important here, and I was right, because I found you," Myranda said.

She settled back against the wall, Myn climbed on top of her, and she wrapped the cloak around the both of them.

"Myranda?" Ivy said.

"Yes," she answered, eyes closed and already slipping into sleep.

" . . . Thank you," she said.

The words went unheard as Myranda dropped off into an exhausted slumber.

In Entwell, other wizards had begun to take notice of the events raging beyond their city. There were forces, bursts of mystic power, that could be felt even here. All agreed that a momentous time was upon them, but few could agree upon the deeper meaning. Eyes began to pour over the prophesy once more. The elemental had been summoned, that much was known. Was this truly the time presaged so long ago? Or would the events be scattered across years, centuries, or longer? Most eagerly awaited the answers. One was denied them.

When Deacon had provoked the unprecedented answer from Hollow, volumes of dense prophesy had been spilled forth. Most were even more indecipherable than those that had preceded them. It had taken much deliberation, but it was the decision of the Elder that Deacon's failure to alert others, and indeed his dismissal of those already present, was inexcusable. The missing words spoken that day would never be reclaimed, and it was solely his fault. As a punishment, Deacon was forbidden from viewing another word of the prophesy, or any other book. For five years he would not be permitted any apprentices or apprenticeships, and his casting gem was taken away. The primary goal of Entwell was to gather knowledge. His actions had violated that principle to the highest degree. As he had denied the world of knowledge, so he would be denied.

For a lifelong student such as he, this was devastating. For one so consumed as he had been since Myranda's departure, it was doubly so. He struggled to retain the pieces of a spell he had managed to a.s.semble in the weeks before the decision had been made. Permitted only blank paper, he recorded what he remembered and set about fabricating the procedures and affectations that might fill in the gaps. He had to be careful. The spell drew dangerously close to lines forbidden to be crossed. Days at a time were spent without leaving his hut. Shelves stripped of their books began to fill with loose pages covered in hasty revisions. The few phrases that he could recall of Hollow's last speech were nailed to the wall. 'A long journey, necessary and deadly, is made safely in a single step.' He had underlined 'single step' repeatedly. On the increasingly rare occasion that he left his task to eat, he would make his way to the waterfall, oblivious of the whispers of his fellow villagers. Most were convinced he had slipped into madness. He would eat, and as he did, he would stare at the waterfall. It would not relent for weeks, months even. Impossible to leave . . .

Myranda was shaken awake by Ivy. There was terror in the creature's eyes, and before she even spoke, Myranda could feel the flutter of fear growing in the pit of her own stomach.

"They are coming! They are coming!" Ivy whispered insistently.

"Who?" Myranda asked, suddenly wide awake.

"The teachers! I can smell them!" she said.

"So soon?" Myranda said.

Ether stepped from the fire and took on her human form.

"It was to be expected. A fort staffed by a General was likely to be resupplied and restaffed frequently," Ether remarked.

With strength to spare after the hours of recuperation, she whisked into the form of wind and launched herself to the surface. Myranda tried to follow, but Ivy caught her by the sleeve.

"No. Don't go! Stay here with me! We can hide!" Ivy urged.

"Myn, keep Ivy safe. I need to find out what we are facing," Myranda said.

Myn did as she was told, though she clearly wished to stay by Myranda's side. Dutifully planting herself in front of the frightened creature and fighting off an unfamiliar and unwelcome fear of her own, she faced the stairs to the surface. Ivy crept up and hugged the dragon's neck.

"Don't let them get me Myn. Don't let them get me," she whispered.

The dragon shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't certain she liked this newcomer, but she had been given a job to do.

Myranda squinted her eyes against the wind. They had slept through most of the day. The failing light showed a few rows of soldiers and a pair of equipment sleds. Perhaps fifteen soldiers in all. They were nearmen. She could tell by the way they moved. Pulling the sleds were . . . wolves? At this distance she couldn't quite tell, but they seemed too large. There was one more, behind the rest, but he seemed . . . different. Myranda pushed it out of her mind and considered her options. She was well rested now, and Ether had some of her strength back. Victory was not out of the question if they were to clash, but it would be best if battle could be avoided. Perhaps she could conjure some manner of illusion to conceal them. She weighed this option with a few others. None seemed likely to succeed. A moment later her decision was made for her. Ether drew herself back together into her flame form and streaked toward the soldiers. It would be battle.

Like a comet, the fiery form roared through the air. Swords and shields were raised, but she still managed to destroy two of the soldiers with her first strike. The others scattered. Myranda approached the battle, but kept her distance, more out of fear of Ether than the soldiers. She was moving so swiftly, striking at soldiers one after the other with such intensity, that Myranda felt certain if she moved any closer she herself would be burned. The final row of soldiers, those nearest to the man who must have been their leader, drew back arrows. Two were aimed at Myranda, three at Ether. The arrows flew. Myranda threw up a hasty shield spell that only just stopped them. Ether laughed as the first two flew uselessly through her burning form, but the third was different. The head glowed faintly, and when it pa.s.sed through Ether she shrieked in pain as a long stream of her flame seemed to follow it.

The injured being retreated to a position well behind Myranda. Eight soldiers remained, as well as the pair of what were most certainly no normal wolves. They seemed to be made of stone, and they were nearly the size of horses. Myranda conjured a wind as powerful as she could manage, hoping to force them back and away from the fort that held Ivy. The advancing soldiers began to slow, but the leader raised his hand and Myranda's spell instantly died away. She tried to restore it, but to no avail. Suddenly the stone form of Ether charged past her. The leader signaled for the wolves to be cut free. Both met the charging shape shifter. She knocked one aside and grappled with the second.

Myranda was forced to shift her gaze from the spectacle as a trio of the soldiers drew near enough to be a threat. She thrust her staff into the snowy ground at her feet and focused her mind. Icy vines erupted from the ground and entangled the first of the soldiers, but before the others could be trapped the leader again swept the spell away. The single immobilized soldier fought at the vines. The tw.a.n.g of bowstrings released a second barrage of arrows, all directed at Myranda. She held up her staff and focused her mind on the arrows. Their paths shifted and struck the soldiers she'd attempted to entangle. Myranda looked away as they vanished into dust. The creatures would have killed her, and they were barely living things, but still she felt horrid that she had to kill them.

Another volley of arrows were launched. Myranda attempted to divert them but the leader's influence quickly righted them. She continued to fight against his will. She could feel his strength against hers. After a final burst of will, she dove to the side. The head of an arrow hissed through her cloak and across her thigh. She cried out. Her staff sunk deep into the snow as she tried to regain her footing. The pain was terrible. She struggled to keep her eyes on the remaining soldiers. They were approaching her. When she finally made it to her feet she was surrounded. She tried to summon a spell to mind, but the leader of the soldiers forced it away. He stood before her. The man looked more like a n.o.bleman than a soldier. His clothes were nothing short of regal, the kind more at home in a king's court than a battlefield. Nothing resembling armor adorned his body. He was either very stupid or very powerful. He had jet black hair and a face that would not be out of place on a statue of a G.o.d. With a gaze that seemed to cut through her, he surveyed his foe.

"Myranda Celeste. You are every bit the warrior I had expected. It is gratifying to meet you face to face. I am General Bagu, perhaps . . . " he began.

Myranda pulled to mind the last of her skills she had learned in Entwell. With a thrust, she landed a powerful blow with her staff. The man reeled backward. The break in his concentration was enough to let through a blast of magic to scatter the other soldiers. She tried to get some distance between herself and the recovering men, but found herself eye to eye with one of the stone wolves. Claw marks scored the stony hide as it slowly moved toward her. It left behind a mound of shattered stone. Finally it stood still, awaiting a command. The real danger was behind her. She suddenly felt a crushing force closing in around her. She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. Her feet left the ground. Slowly she was turned. The five bowmen stood before her, arrows readied, their tips fairly pressing into her flesh. The leader approached her, fury in his eyes.

"You have found your way to the last of the original Chosen. Should more arise, you would have been valuable. But your threat outweighs your benefit," he seethed. A pulse of will snapped one of Myranda's ribs.

She turned all of her own strength of mind to countering his. Despite her best efforts, the force was barely lessened. The best she could manage was to hold him off enough to stay alive.

"Destroy her," the man ordered, deciding now was not the time for a battle of wills when a simpler means of execution existed.

Arrows were drawn back, but before they could fly, a charging form tore through the line of bowman. Myranda struggled to turn to see the form, but the force around her tightened. The air was forced from her lungs. The leader raised a second hand. At the very edge of Myranda's vision, the thrashing form froze.

"Clever," he admitted, drawing the form nearer.

Now Myranda could see. It was the stone wolf. The fingers of the leader twisted cruelly. Waves of black swept over the body of the creature. It howled in pain, but behind the howl was a scream. Ether's voice. The stony form shifted slowly to the stone form of Ether as additional ma.s.s of the wolf crumbled away from the human shape at its core.

"You shall be an adequate prize," he smiled.

Suddenly he turned. Anger flashed in his eyes. The form of Myn hung, writhing in pain in the air. Flames spewed from her mouth until it was forced closed. Myranda focused her mind. The spell that held her was astoundingly powerful. Ether had shifted to flame and now struggled with all of her considerable strength, yet the grip barely wavered.

"Let her go!" came a voice from behind him.

Ivy's club came down, but it stopped inches from the head of the man who held the others at bay. He turned and in a moment she too was suspended in the air. She began to scream in a combination of pain and terror. Myranda suddenly felt the hot sting of fear in her stomach. She had been frightened before. This was different. It was fundamental . . . primal. She felt it rise as Ivy's desperate struggling increased. Myn seemed to be similarly effected. It was as though Ivy's fear was spilling over to the others. Only Ether and their captor seemed unaffected. Soon the fear was almost more unbearable than the pain.

"Let me go! I can't go back! No! NO!" she cried.

The grip was loosening. Something about Ivy's struggles was having an effect. Suddenly there was a torrent of magic. It felt akin to the force that had been gathered to restore Ether, but it came all at once. A flash of blinding blue light filled the valley and a deafening shriek that swiftly faded to nothing echoed from all directions. The hold about them was released. Myranda fell to the ground. Ether did not. She blasted directly at the powerful man. He was quickly consumed in flame and lifted into the air. The fiery form hurdled through the air and into the ruined fort. A few moments and a series of earthshaking blows later what was left of the ruins began to cave in. A flickering form erupted from the flying dust and debris. Ether landed before Myranda. The flames of her body were weakening. The bright eyes wavered.

"Quickly . . . " the voice almost pleaded.

"Myn, fire, NOW!" Myranda cried.

The dragon unleashed flame that seemed to wrap around Ether. After a second and third burst and the shape shifter seemed restored. She immediately shifted to wind and launched skyward.

"The leader is not dead. I intend to withdraw until I am better prepared to finish him. If you value your life, you will leave this valley," Ether called out. Threads of fear were woven into her voice.

Before Myranda could object, the windy form had disappeared into the distance. The ruins were still collapsing. If that wizard truly had survived, Myranda hoped that the mountain of shattered stone would delay him long enough for her to escape. She closed the wound in her thigh, snapped her ribs back into place and healed them, and climbed to her feet. Myn rushed to her side to help her. She scanned the valley, but there was no sign of Ivy, save one. It was a single footprint, more than a dozen paces from where she should have landed. Where were the others? The last of the bricks of the fort crumbled into what was now little more than a pit filled with jagged stone. Deep beneath it, Myranda could already hear a deep rumble. She would have to move quickly.

Running in the direction the footprint faced, Myranda found another, more than one hundred paces on. Together they seemed to be indicating that Ivy had made her way down the mountainside along the steep but direct path that had been taken by the soldiers. Of course, with such ma.s.sive strides, running hardly seemed the appropriate word. Somehow Myranda would have to find a way down with similar speed or the leader who had nearly taken her life moments ago would be upon her to finish what he had started. Her eyes turned to the only other things in the valley, the supply sleds. They were small, the sort intended to deliver minor cargo. She turned one to face downhill.

"Myn, burn the other sled, then find Ivy. When you do, lead me to her," Myranda said.

Myn quickly obeyed, taking to the air once the sled was aflame. Myranda pushed the sled and climbed on. It gained speed quickly. Soon the landscape was whipping by at a terrifying rate. The path was a gently curving one, but at this speed she had to lean all of her weight to one side of the sled to manage the turn. She could have used magic to steer, but a general throbbing in her body a.s.sured her that she had not yet tended to all of her own injuries, and she had the others to think about. It was best to save her strength. Here and there, at the base of a treacherous crater, Myranda would spot another footprint. Myn was still overhead, far ahead of her, searching. The pa.s.s was growing more narrow, the curves more sharp. A sound from behind like a clap of thunder served as a reminder that she must not slow.

Finally Myn glided down and kept pace ahead of the speeding sled. She'd found something. Myranda did her best to stay behind the dragon, and miraculously managed to guide the sled safely through a series of successively narrower forks in the pa.s.s. After pa.s.sing though a point in the path only slightly wider than the sled itself, the pa.s.s opened again. In the distance, at the end of a long, deep furrow that looked to have been scooped out of the snow, was Ivy, motionless and face down. Myranda managed to bring the sled to a halt. She climbed down into the furrow.

Ivy's body was hot, almost scalding to the touch. A fair amount of the snow around her had turned to slush. The edges of her cloak were frayed and charred, yet her boots seemed little the worse for wear. One hand still clutched the club, the surface of which had been blackened and charred as well. Myranda rolled the creature over, her face had been in a hollow in the snow that looked as though it had been melted or perhaps boiled away. The melting snow was slowly filling it with icy water. She was breathing, but only barely, deeply unconscious.

Fairly soaking herself to the bone in the process, Myranda dragged Ivy to the sled. She loosened the straps and removed packs and bags that had survived the ride thus far until there was enough room for Ivy to lie. Whatever mysterious heat had kept her warm thus far was fading fast, and soaked as they were, neither of them would last long in the snow. Myranda flexed her knowledge of water magic, wicking away all that clung to their bodies. She then pulled off the rough canvas that had been wrapped around the cargo and threw over Ivy.

Carefully Myranda probed with her mind, sweeping again and again for any kind of injury. Mysteriously, impossibly, Ivy was completely unharmed. Her only plight was that her spirit was utterly drained. It was only with the whisper of strength that remained that the once powerful essence clung to the body. If this creature could recover, time alone would serve as the cure. With nothing more to do, Myranda sat on the edge of the sled and gave her racing heart a rest, Myn by her side. She tried to grasp what had just transpired.

In one day she found one Chosen and lost another. The one that had left her was anything but what she would consider a hero. Ether was self absorbed and obsessed with her own superiority. The other was a study in contradictions. She seemed full grown, but behaved like a little girl. She seemed not to know a word of magic, yet she had a soul powerful enough to break that wizard's grip. Her will seemed weak, yet she was capable of forcing her emotions on others unintentionally. She could not land a single blow on the wizard, yet she was able to traverse half of a mountainside in a heartbeat.

Myranda's head throbbed. She willed away some minor injuries Myn had sustained while in the wizard's grip, then tended to what was left of her own. She could not sense Bagu drawing nearer. Perhaps he had yet to escape. Another attempt to find him revealed that she could not sense him at all. Briefly she wondered if he was concealing himself, but she pushed the thought aside. If he had followed her this far this quickly, there would be nothing she could do to stop him. He had no reason to hide. Standing again, Myranda looked over the supplies she'd uncovered. There was a longbow and some arrows, including a quiver of the crystal tipped ones. Those might be useful. Another bundle seemed to be entirely chains, ropes, and shackles. Ivy must have been difficult to restrain. She separated a rope from the bundle. There was not a sc.r.a.p of food or a drop of water. The nearmen must not need it, and if her own stay had been any indication, the tiniest amount of that horrid swill would last months at the torturous rate at which they rationed it out. Myranda secured the useful items to whatever open s.p.a.ce was left on the sled and began to push it carefully along.

By the time the mountain turned to flat land again it was well into the long cold night. The tundra was not nearly as cold as the mountain had been, but it was quite a bit colder than the field she had left on the other side. In her years of wandering Myranda had never been so far north, nor so far east. She was nearly to the coast. Had she taken a few turns differently in her descent of the mountain, her trip may well have taken her to the sh.o.r.es of the North Crescent Sea. The sea was entirely separated from the mainland by the Eastern Mountains, and thus few ever saw it. Of course, it had been her view every morning when she was in Entwell, but the thought had never occurred to her when she was there. Perhaps because it was such a paradise, the thought of an icy forbidding sea would have been out of place. For a moment she let her mind linger on more pleasant times. She thought of all she had learned, all of the people she had met. She thought of Deacon . . .

A gust of icy wind and a hint of light struggling through the clouds above the mountain shook her back to reality. If her sense of direction had not failed her, she was in the thin strip of flatland between the Eastern Mountains and the Elder Mountains to the north. Were she to follow the southern edge of these mountains west for a few days, the walls of the northern capital would come into view. It was the most heavily fortified and largest city in the kingdom. Nestled among the mountains and with a pair of legendary walls, the Tresson army could sweep across the whole of the Northern Alliance and be turned back by the forces defending the capital for years. In the past the place was called Verril. When the three kingdoms united, it came to be called simply Northern Capital. It was a name as sterile and utilitarian as any that had been created since the war began, just another in a long line of changes that stripped the culture and history from the land and its people.

With the capital so near, this was a dangerous place to be. It was clear now that the D'karon were the real enemy, and that they made up the better part of the Alliance Army. The capital was the point of command for that force. The generals in command of the army, and potentially the throne, would be there. Until the full might of the Chosen could be brought together, she had to help them as best she could to evade the grip of these powerful men. That meant taking the ailing Ivy as far away from here as she could until the poor creature could recover.

Moving the sled proved to be a far more difficult task without the aid of a slope. Fortunately, as she had been forced to learn, the mountainside was riddled with caves. She came upon one large enough to conceal the three of them but small enough to be certain it was not otherwise occupied. Before Myranda could even request it, Myn scampered off and returned with a pair of snow rabbits. Myranda was unwilling to risk lighting a fire, and the planks of the sled were the only wood to speak of, so she rendered the meat as edible as she could with magic alone. This being her first attempt, the results were less than ideal, but she managed. Again her mind turned to Deacon. He was a master of that particular trick. Somehow he'd compressed the entire procedure to the snap of a finger. Had she known what lay in store, she might have asked to be taught that instead of some of the other things she had learned from him.

She fumbled through the bag for the stylus he had given her. It was still with her. She turned it about in her hands. Holding it reminded her that somewhere there was a place that was untroubled by the war. Somewhere there was a person like Deacon. Perhaps she could return there. Perhaps that is the place that would keep the Chosen safe until they were united. Alas, there were far more reasons why she could not or should not return than why she should. The way could well be blocked now and for months to come. Even if it were open, the journey was perilous and she doubted that she remembered it well enough to navigate it safely. Aside from all of that, there were other Chosen to find . . . or were there.

A comment made by her recent foe echoed in her mind. She'd been too frightened and distracted to consider it before. He said that she had found her way to the last of the original Chosen. Lain and Ether were each original, and the swordsman was dead. Even if Ivy were an original, there should have been one more. The D'karon must have killed it. A dark feeling came to the pit of Myranda's stomach. If this war was ever to end, it would mean that the D'karon would need to be defeated, but they had managed to kill two of the mightiest warriors ever to exist, and capture two others. Only Ether had evaded their grasp entirely, and that was largely due to the fact that for thousands of years she had barely existed.

Two things were now quite clear. First, the foes she faced were far more powerful than she had thought and second, there were two Chosen that remained to be found. The second point was made more distressing by the fact that there was no prophesy to guide her in her search. What were the two that remained? An artistic prodigy and a strategist. Myranda turned to the still body of Ivy. Neither could be considered a description of the creature she had found. She was one of the new Chosen; a replacement, somehow. But that contradicted what the man in the valley had said. Was he trying to confuse her?

Myranda climbed from the cold ground to the edge of the sled. The cold would be distracting, and she could not afford that right now. She had found Ivy, she could find the others the same way. She clutched her staff, closed her eyes, and opened her mind. Ivy's essence flickered weakly beside her, and upon her lap was curled the small, pure spirit of Myn. She spread her consciousness. As her mind swept outward, she could feel the mountainside scattering her concentration more and more as it crept further south. Finally there came a mountain beyond which all else was obscured. This, no doubt, was the same mountain that the cave of the beast wound through, leading to Entwell. She shifted her focus. The faint, defeated souls of the people of her land glinted like stars reflected in a gla.s.sy lake, save one. One burned like a sun, drowning out those that surrounded. Ether. She strained to see more, but ever outward there was the same until her mind swept across the vast darkness that was the sea beyond the western sh.o.r.e. Nothing offered even a whisper of the strength that she had felt in Ivy, or that she had seen in Ether. Not even Lain could be seen. Here and there a presence seemed to flick in and out of sight, like an insect flitting past. Nothing more revealed itself.

The mountainside and its unique ability to blind the mind's eye concealed most of the south from her. There was the chance that what she sought could be found there. She focused harder. There had to be a way to look beyond. She strained, pulling and stretching her mind with all of her might. Slowly, agonizingly so, she could feel her vantage point changing, moving forward. The shift was accompanied by a peculiar feeling. It felt something like she was losing her balance, but in a far more profound and fundamental way. Whispers of the stronger souls to the south peeked tantalizingly at the edge of the hazy disruption the mountain caused.

Suddenly the feeling of disorientation grew a thousand fold. She felt as though she was falling. At the same time, all semblance of physical distraction dropped away. The cold, the sound of the wind at the cave's mouth, all vanished. The faint flickers around her became infinitely more vivid. The spirits of the people of the villages, once barely detectable, now shone brilliantly. Between them, and indeed everywhere around her, was a general glow. It was fluid and alive, shifting like wind. Tight cl.u.s.ters of black voids seemed to draw in this ambient glow. The nearmen. Three voids stood out among them. One was in the distance, where she reasoned the capital must be. Another was far to the west. The third was in a field, not far from her. Also in the field was something she could not immediately identify. It was muted, weaker than it seemed it should be, but undeniably there. It was Lain. He was concealing his spirit somehow, but it was certainly him. A similar essence, muted and concealed, was further to the west. Another Chosen? She tried to focus more intently on this unknown form, but her mind had reached its limit. It didn't matter. She had a direction. She had hope. For now, that would be enough.

She tried to release her concentration. Instead of the world rushing in, she felt the tumbling, spinning disorientation increase. She felt as though she was slipping away. Quickly she focused again, trying to get her bearings. A realization swiftly dawned upon her. She was viewing the world as though she were high above the field to the west of the mountainside. She was not in the cave. She was not in her body.

For the first time she turned her attentions to herself. She tried to move, but the muscles she tried to manipulate did not exist. She moved only when she willed it so, manipulating her 'body' solely through magic. She was unconstrained by the physical world, drifting to and fro according to her mind's desire. Though the motion was easy enough to master, it was not effortless. She could feel her focus weakening. She did not know what would happen to her if she weakened to the point that she lacked the will to move. She didn't want to find out. Desperately she searched for her body, but in this state only magic and spirit were visible, and her body had none. Instead she sought out Myn.

The dragon remained faithfully on her lap, and with the familiar essence to guide her, Myranda's spirit reached her body. The very instant she slipped her astral limbs into her physical ones she jerked into full consciousness. She was cold. Very cold. Her body must have been near death during her absence, leaving her chilled to the core. She began to tremble violently, waking the dragon. Puffing a few breaths of flame to ward off the chill, Myn slipped quickly back into slumber. Myranda, spent from her ordeal, soon followed.

Far across the field, high in the sky, Ether soared. A few bursts of dragon fire were not nearly enough to restore the strength she had wasted in her battle. She cursed herself for her weakness. The D'karon were far more formidable than she had antic.i.p.ated. Of course, she'd had to compensate for the weakness of the human. That was surely the primary cause of her difficulty, but allowing herself to grow so weak was inexcusable. She trained her mind on the essence of her fellow Chosen. He was certainly below, but somehow he was still capable of concealing himself from even her keen senses. He was a testament to the superiority of those who could rightly call themselves Chosen. Not like the beast the human had found. The blindness of that weak minded and softhearted girl was astonishing. Any fool could see that the creature she had found had been corrupted by the enemy. How else could it have escaped her notice? The thought of the human having some ability that she lacked was laughable. Still, she had proven useful. And she did bear the mark . . .

Lain drew in a deep breath, a.n.a.lyzing the air for any hint of Myranda's scent. The wind was sweeping down off of the mountain, but the traces of her were weak. She was ahead, but she had come from the mountain, not through this field. He didn't care. The important thing was that she was near. Even he was not certain how he had known where to find her, but long ago he'd learned to trust his instincts on such matters.

The wind shifted and Lain swiftly sampled it. It carried a foreign scent, one far too near and far too fresh for comfort. He dropped low to the ground. The cloudy sky brought little in the way of light, but he'd been blessed with eyes that needed scarcely any. There was a form, far to the south, that stood motionless in the field. It seemed to be considering its surroundings. After a time, it turned south.

Lain held perfectly still for more than an hour. Not until the form had vanished completely from his view did he allow himself to continue. He immediately resumed his journey toward Myranda. He had not eaten in days and he was nearly frozen, but none of that mattered. Nothing mattered but the purpose to which he had devoted his life. No one must suffer as he had. If the war stood between him and his goal, then the war must end. There was no other option. As he drew nearer, Myranda's scent grew stronger. The dragon, Myn, was with her. And . . . something else. He couldn't place the scent. It toyed with him, undeniably present, yet barely noticeable.

As he slipped into the cave's dark interior. Myranda and Myn were asleep in a heap hunched against a sled. Something was asleep atop the sled. He drew in the scent, but still it eluded him. His eyes fought to make out the form strewn with makeshift blankets. He approached it. Only the head showed. It looked like . . . His heart began to beat harder. His legs seemed to weaken. His mind would not accept what was before him. Could it be? After all of these years? It was . . .

Myranda was shaken awake. Lain's face was inches from hers. Eyes she had rarely seen show a drop of emotion were saturated with angst, confusion, urgency.

"Who is she! Where did you find her! What happened to her!" He demanded, voice desperate.

"Lain! Where did you come from?" Myranda asked, sleep reluctant to release her from its grasp.

"Answer me!" He demanded.

"There was a ruined fort in the mountains. She was inside," Myranda said.

" . . . Tell me that she isn't one of them," he said, almost pleadingly.

"She is not a D'karon. She is on our side," Myranda a.s.sured him.

Rather than a look of relief, a far more desperate look came to his face.

"TELL ME SHE DOESN'T HAVE THE MARK! TELL ME SHE IS NOT A PART OF THIS SUICIDE!" he demanded, shaking her violently again.

"S-She does. She is Chosen," Myranda shakily answered.

Lain released her and stepped away. The shaking and yelling had awoken Myn. She was overjoyed at the first sight of Lain, but something was wrong. He looked broken, devastated. He dropped to his knees, eyes distant and unfocused. His gaze shifted to the ground.

"In my life, I have been everywhere in this war torn land. I have been past the southern most of Tresson cities. I have been inside the Northern Capital. I have seen both oceans. In all of my years I have seen only three of my own kind. I only truly knew one. Since I last saw any of them five long decades have pa.s.sed. I had come to accept that I was the last. That my race would die with me. It didn't matter anymore. Now I find one of my own. Not just one of my kind, but one of my kin, and fate has chosen that she must . . . " he stated, trailing off.

His fists clenched.

"Kin? She . . . she is in your family? You know her?" Myranda asked.

"I've never seen her, but her scent is almost identical to mine. What happened to her?" he asked, voice distant and defeated.

"Some soldiers and a wizard approached. We fought off the soldiers but the wizard nearly destroyed us. She managed to break his grip somehow and she was gone. I found her half of a mountain away, like this. She hasn't moved since," Myranda said.

"She is weak . . . Will she live?" Lain asked.

"Time will tell," Myranda said.

Lain was silent for a time. Myn nudged his tightly clenched fist. The fingers opened and stroked the adoring creature. The pained look on his face faded into a look of contemplation. His eyes closed.

"The war must end," he declared.

"You saw the proclamation from the king," she said.

"What does it matter? It is what you wanted," he said.