A Dance of Shadows

A DANCE OF SHADOWS

Edda Hawkins

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***** This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

A Dance of Shadows Edda Hawkins This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © July 2007 by Edda Hawkins All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-500-5 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Sherri Lynne Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin

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Prologue

“Once, we thought the whole world of Emyr was so small before we left our home of Old Valasa so long ago.” Jocin, Master Ahbrin’s pupil and would-be successor, paused as he dipped his quill into the stained inkwell and continued to quickly copy the histories. “When we came to this continent of Shole and claimed her coast for a burgeoning Asdurah, we proudly named our first city after the first queen, Lady Karenna. Imagine our surprise and our foolishness to think that we humans might be the only ones in all of Emyr to exist and that our beloved Ahliel was the only goddess in the world. We were like children in the First Age. We were ignorant of our neighbors, the Samarian elves, or their dark cousins, the Erebani who lived in the Ereban mountains, and the fierce, untouchable Mirikinn barbarian nomads who roamed on the other side. We were ignorant of their gods and the power of magic.” Jocin looked up and saw his candle was burning low. He lit another one as the other burned out and wiped the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his robe. “In the Second Age, Sovereign Brais took Lady Milleseine, a delicate half-Samarian noblewoman for his queen, solidifying an alliance with Samaria. A new era of learning and

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knowledge opened to Asdurah and like a patient parent, Samaria led the way. We Asdurans came to know Sarsi -- high magic -- and the powerful Avadir Guard of Samaria who wielded that magic through blades called kiris, made of the mysterious, strange metal, inconel. We came to know their androgynous god Suln, the Mastress, that their people worshiped.” “As bright and prosperous as the Second Age was, Queen Milleseine had difficulty conceiving an heir until Thian was born to them. The day was as joyous as it was tragic, for the beloved Queen of Asdurah did not survive. Brais was left with Thian, prince and sole heir to Asdurah, as we entered into the Third Age, the Age of Twilight.” “It wasn’t always the Age of Twilight. When Brais died and passed the crown to Thian as a young man, he fell in love with an Asduran noblewoman, Ceres. They were married in a brilliant jubilee, but their time together was anything but. Once warm and inviting, Ceres became distant and at times, brutally cold. Nevertheless, Thian loved her blindly and completely despite her indiscretions, and eventually she gave him a daughter, the princess Ledah Magdalena.” “Ceres grew further from Thian even as he shored up trade with the Darmerian dwarves from the Iron Coast, sailors from across the Mirman seas and started, for the first time in three ages, to forge an alliance with the aloof Erebani and send explorers to the virtually unknown eastern continent of Luxai to make contact with the Soreshan elves known as Viraga.” Jocin suddenly, frantically looked up at the sound heavy boots on stone in the hall. He swallowed and cursed as the sleeve of his robe smudged ink on the parchment. “But the Age of Twilight has turned to darkness. Our sovereign, Thian, has been assassinated and Ceres consorts with Soreshan Viraga and their vile magic, Irse. There are some who whisper that she wages an unjust war on the Erebani who have supposedly killed the sovereign. Our goddess Ahliel has been silent for seven generations; the mouth of the Oracles are filled with naught but dust. I pray Ahbrin and the Avadir find the princ --”

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Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors were thrown open and Jocin was thrown out of his chair. Ink splashed across the floor, scrolls fell and papers fluttered everywhere. He looked up to see a grey-skinned Viraga elf grinning above him. “The Black Queen will not tolerate defiant, slanderous tongues in her house, scholar.” “No,” Jocin gasped as he tried to crawl away. “No!” The Viraga snatched the scholar by his robes and hauled him up. “Ahliel!” Jocin whispered frantically as he looked into the Viraga’s dark, sinister eyes. “Help us. Find our princess and help us!” “Your goddess,” the Viraga grinned evilly, as he took hold of the scholar’s head, “is dead.” Jocin screamed as his skin started to slough and decay. The terrible whine of gasping for air in his throat, stopped. The Viraga dropped the scholar as the body continued to wither, and he left to report to Serren for his next task.

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Chapter One

They’d gotten in. The Erebani had gotten in and tried to destroy the army’s supplies.

Ambush, Magda thought, as she staggered amongst wrecked tents and wagons. It was an ambush… “Get some tents up!” a soldier barked as he waded through the chaos around him. “We’ve got wounded -- we need shelters and healers! Where are the damned healers?!” Magda was nearly knocked aside as soldiers dragged or carried other soldiers into camp. In the torches of the camp’s light, blood was too bright against the pristine fallen snow. There was so much… “Where is the captain? Find Captain Tyric!” Magda’s heart froze.

Dear Gods…Tyric! The sound of his name knocked her out of her stupor and forced her feet forward faster and faster. The sounds of dying and sorrow and anger around her started to fade. Magda clutched her cloak around her as she ran through the snow.

Don’t be dead! Lady, be merciful -- don’t let him be dead!

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The back half of the camp where supplies and the camp followers resided was in flames. There were shouts for water and Magda choked on the smoke as she ran through. No matter where she went, the eyes of the dead followed her. Magda stopped amid the smoke and chaos. She saw wounded soldiers scattered about. Some wore the blood-smeared golden griffin of this unit. None that she could see were Tyric.

Where is he? Still in the field!? If he is in the field -- oh gods, he might not last, if he’s hurt! In the distance, Magda heard thunder and the dark sky lit up with a red flare.

The Viraga. They’re still cleaning up… “Water,” a voice croaked. “Need water…” Magda knelt to the soldier. She recognized him; he was Lieutenant Galin. Tyric’s lieutenant. She took a dipper out of a nearby bucket, gently raised his head, and he tried a sip. Galin’s handsome face was ruined by a long, bloody gash, and his eye was gone. “Have you seen Tyric?” Magda asked as she gently stroked matted, bloody hair from his face. “He ordered…a retreat. He was the last to go. Stayed to hold the line…”

Hold the line!? Is he mad? He’ll end up like he did in Tellurun! Galin’s bloody hand clutched at Magda’s cloak. “I don’t want to die -- not here, not like this!” “I’m here,” she said as she took hold of his hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’ll be okay.” “Magda… Sweet angel…” Magda watched the light fade from Galin’s good eye. Kind Galin, who was good to everyone, even the evening stars who were prostitutes, and the other camp followers like her. His hand went slack in hers and she gently laid it down. She swept a hand over his eye and closed it.

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“Gods guide you, Galin,” Magda whispered as she brushed tears from her eyes. “Ahliel keep you.” She took a half-frozen blanket and covered the lieutenant’s body, but she could still see his face… Magda rose again and rejoined the camp’s chaos. Her sorrow for Galin only drove her to find Tyric.

If he is somewhere in this camp, if he is dying, I won’t let him die alone! I won’t! “Tyric!” Magda yelled above the din of the camp as she made her way to the edges.

“Tyric!” More soldiers were coming in now; still, none were him. There were women crying over the bodies that were left in the snow. Others tended to the wounded and comforted the dying. They belonged to somebody -- they were a soldier’s wife, mistress, lover…

If I was a captain, Magda thought suddenly. Where would they take me if I was wounded? She thought Tyric might be dragged in with the rest of the soldiers. But if he were just a body?

They might take him to his tent! If they let the men see him, it wouldn’t be good for morale… Magda made her way through the confusion. Men cried out to her, but she couldn’t bear to look at them. She couldn’t watch another man die like Galin had.

Where am I? she thought as she was engulfed by smoke. Magda squinted through the thick billows of grey. She couldn’t tell if this was the private row of officer’s tents that she’d stumbled into. Then, through the dim smoke, she saw a shape. It was formless at first and then it became an outline of a horse. It wandered, aimless towards her and Magda took hold of its reins. The leather was studded with a familiar star-like shape. “No…” Magda murmured. “Oh, no, please…”

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She tried to steady the horse as her other hand sought the hood of the figure slumped against the horse’s back. “Tyric?” There was a small moan as he slid off the horse. “Tyric!” She barely caught him and they tumbled to the ground. Captain Tyric’s eyes were wide with fresh pain as Magda laid him down. He tried to speak, but Magda shook her head. “Don’t talk, Tyric. Don’t talk -- it’ll be okay. It’ll be --” Tyric’s eyes rolled back and his body went slack.

Oh, Gods, is he… There was a long cut across his abdomen and Magda tore a long piece of cloth from her underskirt. She wrapped it around his waist to try and stop the bleeding.

I have to get him inside; I have to get him warm! With all her strength, Magda grabbed Tyric under his arms and dragged him to his tent.

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Chapter Two

Tyric’s eyes slowly opened. He tried to think through the blinding pain in his abdomen where an Erebani had cut into him with a sword summoned by Caliga out of the darkness of night. There had been a skirmish and heavy casualties. The Erebani beat them back and they were forced to retreat. Aral Pass, the gateway to their capital, Greyfall, was still theirs but the Erebani had tried to ambush the camp. “Captain?” Tyric looked up. His dark blue eyes pierced the young page who peered through the entrance of his tent. “Find Sadiah…” “Sir,” he started. “She is gone, sir.” Gone. Tyric couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “What do you mean, not here?” Tyric asked, and winced as he tried to move. “Many are asking for her. No one has seen her -- not since the skirmish ended.” “Look for her again!” The page scurried away and tent flap fell shut. Tyric lay back on his furs and closed his eyes. He hoped the boy would find Sadiah soon.

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***** Tyric felt hands on him and mumbled a curse as pain shot through his torso. “Sadiah…” “Sadiah? No… It’s Magda.” Tyric struggled to sit up, despite the pain, and saw the camp follower at his side. She had a bowl of water, a cloth, linens, and nothing else. “Magda?” Tyric struggled to focus on her. It was, indeed, Sadiah’s companion -- Magdalena. “What are you doing here? Where’s Sadiah?” “You barely made it back to camp and I dragged you here after you fell from your horse.” She started take his armor off and quickly undo the ties of his shirt. “Sadiah’s missing.” “You can’t be serious?” Tyric said as Magda lifted his shirt, “It’s bad out there. No one can find her.” She tried to lift his shirt over his head and some of her strawberry-blonde hair fell into her pretty face. It was hard for him not to reach out and brush it away. Tyric suddenly felt uncomfortable. He wanted Sadiah at his side, but Magda was here tending to him. He eyed her, irritated, as she struggled with his shirt. “Sadiah would’ve had this off by now.” Tyric scowled. “She would’ve cut the shirt off and had the wound mended.” “My apologies, Tyric” she said, as she dipped a cloth into a bowl of water nearby and started to gently wash out his wounds. “I’m the only one who can tend to you right now.” Tyric gritted his teeth and turned his head away. He tried not to look at the young woman who had so suddenly caught his attention, but he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse

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of her as she worked. Though her hands were unskilled, there was tenderness in everything she did. He winced as Magda finished binding his abdomen. The wound hadn’t been very deep, but he had lost a lot of blood. Magda turned to go, and Tyric grabbed her wrist. His hand slipped down to hers and held it tight as he looked up to her. He wanted to apologize for snapping at her, but she spoke first. “Galin…he didn’t make it.” Tyric’s throat tightened with grief and anger. He tried to speak, but no words came. “I’m so sorry. I know you were close to him,” Magda said softly. “I was with him. I didn’t let him die alone.” Tyric only nodded and felt Magda give his hand a gentle squeeze. “If you hear anything about Sadiah, will you tell me?” “Some are saying that she is dead or captured.” “I don’t believe that,” Tyric muttered as he let go of Magda’s hand. “Nor do I.” Magda took up a lantern in her free hand and quietly left his tent. He wanted to call her back, to ask her to stay. He wanted the comfort of a woman’s arms around him tonight, but Sadiah was missing, and Magda? He felt guilty wanting her in Sadiah’s absence. Tyric closed his weary eyes. Galin was gone, Sadiah was gone, and he wondered when he woke in the morning if Magda would be gone as well.

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Chapter Three

“Get outta here, ya little half-bastard!” Sadiah looked up from beneath the hood of her dark cloak to see a child get thrown out of a shop and into the dirt road. “Thievin’ little Erebani!” the shopkeeper bellowed, “I oughta put my boot to ya!” “But…but I didn’t!” the child sputtered, “please, my father --” “Nine curses on the stinking lot o’ ya!” An ugly crowd started to gather now, and Sadiah pushed her way to the center. She saw a small half-Erebani elf with skin the color of a stormy sky, silver-grey hair, and pale brown eyes. He was no more than nine or ten. Behind her, she heard angry murmurs from the gathering folk. “What is the trouble?” Sadiah asked. “Stay out of this, barbarian!” the shopkeeper said. “It ain’t none o’ your concern!” Sadiah tightened at that. She hit the butt of her oaken staff against the ground. It flared with blue light and sprouted wicked thorns. “What did he do?”

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The shopkeeper leered at her and took a step forward. “Trying to pawn off a stolen necklace, he was!” In a meaty fist, Sadiah saw the shopkeeper brandish a silver necklace with an amber setting. “It wasn’t stolen.” the boy insisted as he tried to hold back his tears. “It belongs to my family. I swear! I need to trade it for --” “I said shut it, you little…” The shopkeeper tried to give the boy a swift kick, but Sadiah raked him across the arm with her thorny staff. “Goddamned witch!” the shopkeeper roared as he charged her. Sadiah easily sidestepped him. She bloodied the back of his head and he tumbled to the ground, half unconscious. Sadiah turned and summoned a ball of silvery witch fire. It flickered in her hand and lit her hard face. “I don’t think you want to cross me,” Sadiah growled as the shopkeeper moaned at her feet. “Get back to your cattle or whatever it is you do when you’re not ganging up on little boys.” Some took hesitant steps forward, and Sadiah’s amber eyes narrowed beneath her hood. “Don’t try me.” One by one, they backed off. People muttered slurs at them over their shoulders. When the last shuffled away, Sadiah sighed and snuffed the flame in her hand. “Are you all right?” she asked as she offered her hand to the little boy. “Yes ma’am.” “What’s your name?” “Jhael.”

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“Well, Jhael,” Sadiah said, as she scooped the silver necklace out of the shopkeeper’s weak grasp. “This belongs to you.” Jhael bit the bottom of his lip. He looked over at the shop, an herbalist’s shop. “My father needs medicine.” “You’re not getting it here,” Sadiah said as she let down her hood. “Come.” The boy followed her to her horse, and Sadiah mounted. She offered Jhael her hand, but he balked. “I’m not leaving you,” Sadiah said. “So you might as well come. I might be able to help your father.” Jhael brightened, hopeful. “Are you a healer?” Sadiah nodded. She saw people drifting back towards them, now in greater numbers. The cut on her arm from the skirmish at Aral Pass still ached. She didn’t think she could swing her staff again without opening it up. “If we don’t go, we’re going to have trouble.” Jhael took Sadiah’s hand, climbed up, and she spurred her horse. When she was certain they were safe, she slowed up. Sadiah still kept a brisk pace as she watched the road. “Where are you from, Jhael?” Sadiah asked. “The Southern Marches. It’s not far from here. I had a horse, but he was stolen.”

Poor child, Sadiah thought. With the war on, he is lucky nothing worse happened to him. “Tell me about your father,” she said. “He’s sick,” Jhael said. “He was all sweaty and talked nonsense. He couldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat…” It sounded like he might’ve had a fever, but she couldn’t be sure until she saw him.

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“We’ll stop and gather some herbs,” Sadiah said as she pulled on the reins of her horse to slow it up. “Will my father be okay?” “I’ll do my best for him.” If the fever had gone for more than a few days, there was no telling how bad off he would be when they reached him.

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Chapter Four

Her one chance to attend to Tyric, to show him some tenderness, and she’d failed. Magda looked back at the captain’s tent. He’d barely noticed that she was there. When he

had noticed, it was only to ask Sadiah’s whereabouts, or to criticize that she was not as good at attending to him as the other woman was. Jealousy welled up in Magda.

What is so damned special about her? She’s just a camp follower, too, a glorified barbarian from the Steppes, at that! Magda knew better. She knew, just like every other camp follower did, that Sadiah was Tyric’s favorite. Tyric seldom chose a girl from amongst them, either for pleasure or for doing chores. It was his tent that Sadiah always visited since he had nearly been killed at Tellurun. People had started to wonder, to talk…

Sadiah never said that she had any feelings for him. Magda sighed softly.

She is either missing or dead. I shouldn’t think so harshly of her.

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She walked away from Tyric’s tent, lost in her thoughts, when she ran headlong into a Viraga elf. Her bowl clattered to the ground and she shrank away from him in terror. He scowled at her in the dim torchlight just outside of the captain’s tent. “Filthy camp follower,” Micar snapped, as he gathered his blood-red robes around him. He raised a hand and malignant sorcery pulsed at his fingertips. “It was an accident!” Magda managed. “You know the barbarian?” Magda’s green eyes widened with terror, and she shook in the Viraga’s dark presence. “Speak!” Micar’s hand crackled, and Magda jumped. “Y…yes.” “Where is she!?” “I don’t know! She’s probably dead.” Micar knelt to Magda like a predator to his prey. She cried out as he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her to him. “Tell me!” “Please -- I don’t know!” “Leave her, Micar.” Magda looked up and saw the stern face of Tyric, and she felt relieved at the sight of him. “I said leave her!” They were starting to draw attention, and people briefly stopped to watch before they hurried on. Micar cast Magda aside with a wicked grin and slowly rose. He didn’t turn to face Tyric.

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“I was simply inquiring about your pet healer gone missing, Captain,” he said. “Leave. Now.” Micar smirked, amused that it took all of the captain’s effort to stand through the pain of his wounds and keep his blade from trembling. “She didn’t do a very good job, did she?” Micar chuckled as he waved a dismissive hand at Magda. “Not as good as your pet barbarian. The trollop was useless to me as well.” Tyric pressed the point of his long sword into the back of Micar’s neck. “You try my patience, Viraga.” Micar turned, and the point of Tyric’s blade cut a thin, bloody line around his neck until he faced the Captain. “Or what, Tyric?” Micar reached out and grasped the sword. He was heedless of how it cut into his flesh. Where his blood touched the metal, it started to rust. Tyric jerked away and dropped the sword. The blood chewed rusty holes and pits into it as it lay on the ground. Micar rushed Tyric and sank his fingers into his wounded flesh. The Viraga grinned as he siphoned some of the captain’s life away. “I’d watch myself, if I were you. Your little barbarian isn’t here to put you back together again. Though I doubt she could, after I was done with you.” Micar pushed Tyric back and the wounded man grunted in pain. Where the Viraga had touched, there where five bloody finger marks. The captain looked weaker and deathly pale. “Pathetic.” Micar sneered at him. Magda watched the Viraga leave. When he was out of sight, she went to Tyric and helped him back into his tent. She wished there were Avadir Guard amongst them instead of Soreshan Viraga in their ranks.

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Chapter Five

Jhael said this was it, but Sadiah didn’t believe it. She thought she’d misunderstood his directions. “Are you sure we’re not lost?” Sadiah asked. “No, ma’am. I swear!” Sadiah suddenly saw the vague shadow of a home in the trees. She only noticed because of the sound Jhael’s feet made on hidden stairs as he rushed up. “Please,” the boy begged from the rail, “hurry!” Sadiah threw the reins of her horse around a low branch. When she caught up and stepped inside with Jhael, she knew no woman lived here. There was no smell of dried herbs; no scent of cooking in the air. Nothing said there was or had been the presence of a wife, mate, or even a servant. “This way!” Jhael led her up a short twist of stairs. He threw open the door and Sadiah saw his father. He wasn’t moving. “Go downstairs.” “But --”

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“Go. Don’t come unless I call you,” Sadiah said. Jhael looked at his father, then to Sadiah. He left them, scared. Sadiah entered the dim room. The Erebani was dead; she was sure of it. She went to the bed where he lay in a pile of blankets. His skin might’ve been a very dark blue once, like a dark night sky, but he was as ashen as Jhael said. The blankets were kicked aside, likely in throes of delirium. Sadiah couldn’t see the rise and fall of his chest.

Poor Jhael, Sadiah thought as she untangled his father from the blankets. He brought me for nothing. His forearm was badly bandaged as she laid him out. It was swollen and looked infected.

He got a fever from his wound? Sadiah undid the bandage, and it was an awful sight. The wound smelled foul and the flesh was putrid. This sort was easily cared for, unless he hadn’t been healthy before. She shook her head and gently put his arm down. Sadiah needed to clean him up for last rites and for Jhael. This was the worst part of what she did. It tugged at her heart every time. Sadiah got up, and felt something brush her skirts. “My…” the Erebani stuttered, “my…s…s.”

He…he’s is alive! “It’s okay,” Sadiah said softly. “You’re going to be okay.” His hand slid weakly off her skirts and onto the bed. She could see dull, dark, brasscolored eyes behind barely opened ashen lids. “Jhael!” Sadiah yelled. “Jhael, come! Quickly!” Sadiah heard him run up the stairs, and he burst through the door. His father tried to lift his head to see him, but he was too weak. “Is…” Jhael started, tears in his eyes. “Is he…”

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“No, Jhael,” Sadiah said. “Listen to me; boil water in the hearth and bring it in a bowl. Quickly, now!” Jhael hurried to get what Sadiah told him. He fidgeted outside his father’s room the whole time when the water was done. A while later, Sadiah emerged and knelt to speak to the boy. “He is weak, but you can go see him for a few moments,” she said. “Is he going to be okay?” “Your father’s wound was very bad,” Sadiah said. “It wasn’t properly cleaned and taken care of.” The boy bit his lip and looked down at the floor, ashamed. “Oh, no,” Sadiah murmured, as she stroked Jhael’s hair. “No, Jhael. It’s not your fault. Look at me.” Jhael looked up to the young woman. “You did the best you could for him,” Sadiah said. “You’re a good son. Your father would be proud of you for trying to care for him. Now go on and see him.” Jhael nodded and Sadiah watched him go into his father’s room. She heard his murmurs as she went down to make them some food.

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Chapter Six

Options… Micar liked to have options. It made things more interesting. He could’ve easily killed Tyric and that trollop of a camp follower, but he decided that it was best to leave them. The girl was of no consequence, hardly worth his effort, and the captain? Micar smiled deviously to himself as he threw back the black tent flap.

In due time, Tyric. In due time. He lit a small iron brazier and the flames cast long, gloomy shadows across the dingy canvas of his tent. It was bad enough that the captain saw fit to meddle in his affairs, especially where Sadiah was concerned. He longed for a suitable apprentice, and when the barbarian had come he’d sensed her blood burning so intensely with magic that he knew he had to have her.

I’ll find you, my darling little barbarian. You can’t hide, not when I have your blood. Sadiah’s talents were worthy of something greater, and he knew it. The magic in her blood radiated from her. It manifested into a calming, healing presence which she unwittingly used to help the soldiers survive some of the worst wounds. It made her an excellent healer, aside from her mundane practices.

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Such power could be put to better uses. If properly trained, I don’t know of an army in all the kingdoms that could stand against the fury I could help her unleash! A feral smile touched Micar’s lips. His slender grey fingers brushed Sadiah’s dark blue cloak that he had found it in the aftermath of the skirmish. There was a thin, bloody tear in it, perhaps from a knife or an arrow. A little of her blood was all he needed.

You are my apprentice, little barbarian. You just don’t know it yet. Micar grabbed a bowl, poured water in it from a water skin, and set it aside on a rough, stained table. Out of a pouch at his waist, he took something coarse and black and sprinkled it on the brazier. Acrid smoke swirled around the tent now, as Micar knelt on crimson pillows at the small table. His charcoal eyes were half-lidded, and his breathing slowed as he cut out the bloody piece of cloak with a knife. Micar whispered harsh, guttural incantations over the cloth. He breathed on it, and Sadiah’s dried blood oozed up from the ruined cloth, as fresh as when it was shed. A few beads of blood dripped into the bowl. Micar stared as the red slowly, hypnotically diffused into pink wisps in the water. “Sadiah…” He chanted her name as he inhaled deeply of the brazier’s smoke and slipped further into his trance. “Sadiah…show me where you will be…” Micar’s short, grey, elven ears twitched and his breath hitched as Sadiah’s blood began to swirl clockwise in the water. He felt her presence first and then hazy shapes started to unfold before him. Suddenly, they where sharp and clear. Autumn leaves waved gently in the future that swirled in the bowl, and Sadiah was picking up broken crockery off of the rough timbers of a small balcony. Micar watched as she paused with the shards in her hands. It vexed Micar that she was being so familiar with an Erebani. The way he held her, the way he stroked her hair was disconcerting. She was his!

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There was nothing more to see, as Micar watched Sadiah go into the small house nestled in the trees. Micar came back to the murky grey of his tent as the blood vision faded. He smiled smugly as he reached for the small lapboard with his quill, parchment, and ink.

I can use this to my advantage, I think. There’s more than enough evidence, dear little barbarian, to easily paint you a traitor and spy. Micar feverishly wrote out what he had seen onto a parchment. His word would be accepted on the matter. No one ever doubted the word of a Viraga where knowledge about an enemy was concerned. Since Sadiah had so suddenly disappeared, it would be easy for him to gain support. All he required was the general’s signature on this, and he would get what he wanted at last. Micar set aside the lapboard and parchment. He took what was left of Sadiah’s blood on the bit of cloak and went out to where the Viraga’s nightmares were stabled. He went to his, a hulking black beast. It snorted; its cloven hooves pawed at the ground at the scent of blood. “Yes…” Micar said as he brought Sadiah’s blood to the nightmare’s nose. “We have work to do.” He passed his hand over what was left on the damp cloth, and the blood became mist. The nightmare screeched and hissed as it swirled in a thin, red haze up its nostrils. “You’ll remember the scent of the magic inside her, in her blood…it’s strong, isn’t?” The nightmare thrashed its mane and screeched again. It tried to bite, but Micar only grinned at the bloodless nip. “When the time is right, you’ll take me to her.” Micar gave his nightmare a rough pat and left the stables. There were other matters to attend to, ones which demanded his more immediate attention.

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Chapter Seven

For the first time since Sadiah had come to the camp, Tyric woke knowing that he wouldn’t see her as he made his rounds. He slowly sat up and lit a lamp. Tyric still felt weak from Micar’s attack. If Sadiah were here, she’d insist on helping him right now. He struggled with his armor, and Sadiah was all that he could think of, even through the dull pain that throbbed in his gut. He missed the feel of her small, deft hands and the way her tawny eyes looked at him with concern. He loved the way she set her pretty mouth in a line of determination when she went about her tasks. He got to his feet, reached for his spare long sword, and slung it on his hip. The one that Micar had destroyed had been a favorite of his, and he dearly wished he could take it out of the Viraga’s hide. Tyric extinguished the flame with a harsh breath and left his tent. A gust of chilly air blew past him. It stirred his unbound hair, and he idly brushed stray sable strands aside. The first snowflakes of winter stuck to Tyric and melted. He had known glorious sunrises in his home province of Karan Dun. The more they moved into the Ereban Mountains, towards Greyfall, the more the skies grew somber. It was one less thing that he could take comfort in. With winter coming on, it would be impossible

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to take Aral Pass until the spring. Their supplies were low, and his men wouldn’t last through a winter siege. The captain’s eyes narrowed as he looked across the camp. He knew he had things to check and men to inspect, but his heart tugged at him to go down to where the camp followers and the evening stars -- prostitutes -- made their place. He didn’t believe Sadiah was dead, and part of him held out hope that maybe someone might’ve heard something new. Maybe she had come back in the night. The army’s large tents thinned out into smaller, less sturdy tents and lean-tos. Tyric stopped abruptly behind a tall lean-to. He barely caught the words of a young woman as she mended a soldier’s old shirt. “Do you think the barbarian woman is dead?” “Don’t call her that,” he heard Magda say. “She’s not a barbarian. I don’t think she’s dead.” “Well, with her gone, it’s less competition for me. Maybe the captain will find a new favorite.” There was a sharp crack of skin on skin. “Sadiah might be a Mirikinn, but she is a good woman! She cared for us camp followers and the evening stars, as well as the soldiers.” Tyric heard Magda sigh, exasperated. “Get out of here.” The other woman held her face as she picked up her sewing -- a soldier’s torn shirt -and scurried away. He watched Magda sit down, her head in her hands. She had a sad look on her face. “We’ll find her,” Tyric said as he came out from behind the lean-to. “Sadiah is out there somewhere. Sometimes, she stays out looking for survivors. She’ll come back. She always comes back.”

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“This was bad,” she said as she stood up. “This was a bad skirmish. She could’ve been caught or killed.” “Hey,” Tyric said, as he grabbed Magda’s shoulders a little harder than he would’ve liked. “Don’t say that. She’s alive -- she’s out there. She’ll make it back to us.” He eased off Magda and sighed. “I have to see to my men. If I hear anything, I’ll send a page to you.” “Thank you.” “It’s nothing,” he said quietly Tyric briefly looked back at Magda. Cold wind stirred her hair, and despite her sad face, she was beautiful. He wanted to reach out and caress her cheek, to assure her with a gentle touch that everything would be fine. He thought of Sadiah then and he felt guilt rise in him again for being attracted to Magda. Tyric turned away, and disappeared amongst the tents and the bustle of the camp.

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Chapter Eight

Jhael wanted to take his father’s breakfast to him this morning, and Sadiah gladly let him. She went out onto the small, rustic balcony of the tree house. Pale autumn light streamed through the leaves as she sipped tea. The Erebani’s wound was much better now, especially after she had cleansed and treated it with an old Mirikinn remedy -- maggots. After they ate away the infection, she was astounded by how quickly his wound had started to heal. It was nearly closed now. After a while, she took a small soapstone figure of Ahliel out of a leather pouch at her waist. A young soldier had given it to her long ago. From what she understood, Ahliel was an old goddess of protection and healing here in Asdurah. Sadiah held the tiny figure a moment. Her people in the Steppes had no gods, yet the carving looked so familiar to her. Her fingers traced it for a moment, and she felt…strange. Something in her lurched, and cold danced up her spine. She frowned and quickly slipped the figure of Ahliel back into her pouch. Sadiah shook the strange feelings away and took another sip of her tea. She thought of the soldiers she’d left, and of Magda and Tyric, as well.

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I couldn’t stay. Not with Micar pressing me. Tyric meant well, but he couldn’t protect me from Micar forever. If Micar believes me dead, then all the better. She didn’t understand why the Viraga was so obsessed with her. She saved lives, not took them… Her guilt at leaving weighed on her. Soon, she would leave this place as well. The prospect of roaming didn’t bother her nomad blood, but leaving people behind as often as she did these days, did.

Best to put it out of your mind, Sadiah told herself, and finished her tea. She set it back on the rail for a moment. “Good morning,” Drevin said softly at her ear. Sadiah spun around, startled. Her teacup shattered on the balcony’s woody floor. “Master Drevin!” Sadiah’s hand fluttered to her mouth. Drevin was up, he was walking! “Please,” he said as he coaxed Sadiah’s hand away from her mouth. “Just Drevin.” “You…should be in bed!” “I feel fine enough.” “But your health --” “ -- is the best it’s been in a while, thanks to you. We Erebani are fast healers under the right circumstances.” He did look much better. Drevin’s skin was a very dark midnight blue now. His eyes glimmered like dark burnished brass in the sunlight, and his silver-grey hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail. “How is your arm? Jhael said that it was hurt?” “It’s fine.” Sadiah smiled slightly as she absently touched the bandage. “It will heal. Your son has been very helpful with the chores, so it hasn’t bothered me much.”

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They stood on the small balcony, and falling leaves whispered by. Sadiah felt herself getting caught up in Drevin, when something in her balked. She tried to pull away. Drevin took Sadiah’s hand gently, yet firmly, and she started to panic. “What are you doing? You don’t know me!” she said. Drevin’s other hand gently caressed her cheek. “I’d like to, Sadiah.” She had heard this from soldiers before. It was a sort of infatuation they got while she cared for them. She was just their healer, but this man, this Erebani…Sadiah shifted anxiously. Instead of an invalid, she saw a beautiful elven man. “So,” Drevin said as he let go of her hand. “How does a Mirikinn woman get so far from the Steppes?” Sadiah stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment. No one had ever asked her before. Not even Tyric or Magda. “When I was younger,” Sadiah started, as she looked down, “I left that life.” Drevin’s brow furrowed; it was a curious statement. “I wandered, did what I could to survive,” she said. “When the war started, I went from camp to camp as a healer. The last camp I’d been at for a while…” Drevin nodded. “I didn’t like being in the midst of warfare, but I knew my place. I took care of the soldiers and the camp followers there.” There was quiet, and Sadiah thought Drevin might let her go, when he posed another question. “What made you leave the Steppes, Sadiah?” Drevin’s words made her feel ill. She shook her head against it, and she suddenly lost her voice.

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“What happened there?” Sadiah wanted nothing more than to leave Drevin and his questions on the balcony. Sadiah frantically tried to decide whether or not to bolt. Her head was a mess and she barely felt Drevin’s hands gently turning her face back up towards him. “Sadiah?” Drevin asked softly. Her mouth opened, but nothing came. She swallowed hard, and tried again. This time, her voice came through a thin whisper. “I didn’t…I couldn’t let him. I saw all those women -- girls, really. They went to him.” “Who?” “The Khan. They went to Jagun Khan, and he…” Sadiah’s amber eyes sparked with anger. “They were his…his playthings!” she said, half terrified, “I wasn’t going to let that happen -- not to me!” Drevin pulled her to him as tears streamed down her cheeks. “They were pushed out of his tent, manhandled, and drunkenly proclaimed a woman while blood wet her legs,” Sadiah sobbed. “He kept the ones he favored when there was no one of age, and there were many.” Sadiah shook in his arms and he held her a little tighter. “I heard his women talking one day,” Sadiah murmured against Drevin’s chest. “He was going to keep me as his when my time came and I couldn’t let him!” “Not all men are bad.” he murmured. “Even though some choose to abuse power.” Sadiah looked up at Drevin in disbelief. “We’re not.” He smiled gently as he stroked Sadiah’s hair. “I’d like to do something for you, if you will allow me.” “You don’t…have to.”

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“I want to make love to you. I want to show you how beautiful it can be.” Sadiah stared at him; she couldn’t comprehend what he just said. “Stay as my guest and rest,” he said. “I’m sure you’re tired from your work here. You can leave anytime, but please consider my offer.” “I’m no prostitute, no…evening star!” “Of course not, but there’s nothing wrong with seeking or taking pleasure in another, either.” Sadiah only nodded. She watched him go, confused, and unsure of what to do as she bent to pick up the broken crockery from the balcony.

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Chapter Nine

Magda made her way through the bustling camp with water skins slung across her back. The place where she’d made her home was slowly coming back from the brink of destruction by the Erebani.

We were lucky we weren’t all wiped out. She passed through the section of soldier’s tents on her way to the pavilion that had been set up for the wounded. Occasionally, she saw man-shaped bundles, wrapped in blankets, carried off to be buried. A deep sadness touched Magda and she brushed solemn tears away from her cheek.

Some of these men…they were so young. Many of these men had families. Magda bowed her head and uttered quiet prayers as the dead passed. Though she didn’t know who most of these soldiers were, she was grateful for their sacrifice. Each had done their duty to drive off the Erebani and keep what was left of the camp safe. She hefted the water as she rounded the bend and trudged up the frozen, muddy lane. A small battalion of Viraga were housed near the soldiers and, though she didn’t like the idea, she knew the fastest way to the pavilion for the wounded was through the Viraga’s section.

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She took a deep breath, made another turn, and picked up her pace as she entered into the Viraga’s domain. She tried to stick with other camp followers, and like them, she avoided the stony-looking, red-robed Viraga as she passed through. She was nearly through when a tent flap was thrown out in front of her. Micar emerged and she tried to fold herself into the bustle of people who passed by before he saw her but it was too late. Magda nearly dropped her water skins as a hard hand grabbed her and pulled her aside. “Let go of me!” Magda said as she tried to twist her way out of Micar’s cold grasp “Do you know General Durhan’s tent?” Magda scowled as the Viraga ignored her and produced a sealed parchment from beneath his robes. “Deliver this to him, and be sure he signs it. Once he does, take it to Captain Tyric. Show it to no one, and don’t even think of looking at it yourself. Now go!” Magda snatched the parchment out of Micar’s hand and backed away from him, slowly at first and then faster. She hastily disappeared into the maze of tents and people and made for General Durhan’s tent at the center of the camp.

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Chapter Ten

General Durhan’s flag bore a golden griffon holding arrows in a claw on a blue background. It fluttered in the wind, the only color against the grey sky. It was a welcomed sight as Magda rushed up the narrow corridor of tents. She hated Micar, that domineering, bastard of a Viraga, but she feared even more what he might do if this task wasn’t done the way he wished. Magda stopped just short of the tent, which was guarded by two of Durhan’s men. “State your business, woman,” one said. “I have a parchment from Micar to the general.” The soldier held out his hand expectantly. “I’ll take it to him.” “I’m to deliver it to General Durhan myself.” “I don’t have all day!” Magda sighed sharply. “By the way you stand there, it seems as though you do,” Magda snapped. “If you want to explain to Micar yourself why his parchment wasn’t delivered the way he wanted, then by

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all means, please keep me standing here. I’ll wait while he promptly sends you to the Ninth Hell himself!” The soldier was about to say something when Durhan threw back the tent’s flap. He snapped to attention. “What’s all the noise?” the general demanded. “This wo --” “ -- I am Magdalena, General,” Magda said. “I bring a parchment from the Viraga, Micar.” “Is that all?” “He says that I should be sure that it’s signed,” Magda said. “I’m to take it to Captain Tyric after.” Durhan looked at the camp follower. She did possess a parchment with Micar’s crimson seal. She was bold enough to argue with one of his soldiers, and her voice was strong. He decided he could use another page for the camp and waved her inside. It didn’t hurt that she was easy on the eyes, either. “What was your name?” “Magdalena, sir.” “How would you like to be a page?” the general asked. “My personal one?” Magda blinked. “I beg your pardon, sir,” Magda said “But…don’t you have one already?” “I need more than one these days.” “That’s generous of you, General, but I can’t.” General Durhan frowned. Surely a page was better than being a chore girl or an evening star for the camp. He couldn’t fathom why she might refuse.

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“A shame, but if you change your mind, Magdalena,” Durhan said, “you would be most welcomed.”

This might help me, though. I’ll think about it later… Being the general’s page sounded could have advantages. Perhaps she’d been too hasty in refusing Magda waited patiently inside the tent as General Durhan studied the parchment. He finally signed it with some dismay, and then she was on her way to Tyric.

***** After a few moments of listening and waiting outside of Tyric’s tent, Magda drew back the drab flap. It was dark inside and he wasn’t there. Magda carefully found her way to where she remembered the captain’s lamp being, and after a moment of feeling around for the sparker, she lit it. Magda looked around Tyric’s austere tent. She saw furs piled on an oversized, leather cot. Next to it was a chest, which probably carried clothes and other personal possessions. On top of that was a smaller box that she knew higher-ranking soldiers carried tools in for their weapons and armor. Tyric’s cuirass -- the upper part of his armor -- lay next to it, half repaired from the skirmish. The whole place suddenly struck Magda as very lonely. “What are you doing in here?” Magda turned suddenly to see Tyric coming in. He looked tired and very much annoyed. “A missive for you from Micar, signed by General Durhan,” she said as she held out the parchment. A scowl twisted the captain’s handsome face at the mention of the Viraga. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t good news. “When did you become a page, Magda?” Tyric asked as he took it from her.

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“I haven’t,” she said. “I’m only doing as I was told.” The captain nodded. “It would suit you,” the captain spoke, as he broke the seal on the scroll, “to have been one.” A warm blush suddenly spread across Magda’s cheeks. He really had given her something of a compliment, but as quickly as she had seemed to capture Tyric’s attention, it had gone back unrolling the parchment. Magda watched as he skimmed it and then stopped. He read it more carefully, and the scowl that he wore just a moment ago, deepened into quiet rage. Tyric’s hands shook as the parchment crushed beneath his hands. “Nine hells…” Tyric breathed, livid. “What?” “This came from Micar?” “Yes…what is it, Tyric?” “Micar,” he started bitterly. “He’s seen that Sadiah is alive, and that she…” Tyric paused. His anger rose fiery in him again and he gritted his teeth. “…she is to be hunted and executed for sedition and acting as a spy to the Erebani!” Magda’s hand went to her mouth and barely stifled a gasp. She suddenly felt weak and leaned against one of the thick tent poles. Her friend, the only true friend she had in this entire camp, was being painted a traitor.

Sadiah had her trouble with Micar, but who hadn’t? He can be vicious, but I’ve never heard of him killing anyone who opposed him! There has to be another reason why she had left so suddenly. There has to be! “And I am to be her executioner.”

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Tyric’s voice jerked Magda out of her thoughts and into fresh shock. She couldn’t believe what she just heard. They were going to send Tyric to kill her. “I don’t believe this!” Magda said. “I don’t believe Sadiah would do this! She isn’t a traitor -- she -- she helped us, she is our friend! You can’t just go and…” The captain looked at the writ of execution in his hand. “Tyric!” “There’s nothing I can do.” “You could not do it!” “Unless I brought General Durhan proof, solid proof, there's nothing that we can say or do that will overturn the word of that damnable mage!” “I won’t let you do it! I won’t!” “I have no choice!” “How could you?” Magda yelled, beating at his chest. “How could you do this? You love her!” Magda didn’t know what hurt her more, saying that he loved Sadiah or reminding him of what everyone knew he felt. Tyric grabbed Magda firmly as she beat at him. He tried to hold her tightly to calm her. “Magda,” he whispered, more harshly than he would’ve liked. “Stop!” Magda still struggled against him as he hauled her over to the corner where he slept. Tyric dragged her down to his cot and sat her between his legs. One arm firmly held her, tucked against his chest and his other hand found its way into her hair. He turned Magda’s tear-stained face towards him. “Magda.”

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She felt Tyric stroke some of her hair away from her face, and behind her ear. His arm loosened, but still rested just underneath her breasts where he held her. Tyric’s breath was warm on her cheek, and her lips trembled against his face. “She’s a good woman. She’s my friend and you love her!” “I don’t want to kill her,” he said and without thinking, he kissed her gently yet firmly on the temple. “Gods help me, I don’t.” Tears streamed down Magda’s cheeks. She didn’t care that he’d been ordered to do it. She wasn’t going to let this happen. .

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Chapter Eleven

A day had passed and Sadiah did spend some time resting as Drevin’s guest, but she couldn’t resist doing light chores with Jhael’s help. Drevin was very hospitable and made sure she had everything she needed. They spoke nothing of the Steppes and he didn’t press her for more. Sadiah went to clear away the rest of the dinner dishes when she lost her grip on the shaky stack. She sighed, and bent to pick them up. She couldn’t keep her thoughts from drifting to what happened on the balcony and Drevin’s offer. “Clumsy of me,” Sadiah muttered. Jhael perked up, and left his book at the table to help her. The boy put silverware on plates that were finely carved wood and handed them over. “Are you…all right?” Sadiah turned away, embarrassed before a blush could spread across her face. “I was thinking about leaving.” It wasn’t so much of a lie, really; she’d thought on it. It was just a lie right now. “You’re going to leave?” Jhael said. “But the war…” Sadiah looked at him over her shoulder.

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“I’ll be fine, Jhael.” She smiled slightly at him. “You don’t have to worry for me.” “You could stay here! You’d be safe and --” “Jhael,” Drevin said as he stepped into the kitchen, “It’s time for you to let Sadiah be, and go to bed.” “But Father, why couldn’t she?” “Jhael, that is not open for debate. Now go to bed.” Jhael bit his lip. Suddenly, he threw his arms around Sadiah’s waist, and she and Drevin were both taken aback. “I don’t want you to leave!” Sadiah looked down at the boy, and she felt tears in her eyes. “Jhael…” She gave him a gentle squeeze, and he looked up at her, sad. “Do as your father asks.” Reluctantly, Jhael moved away from her, and went to his father. “I’m sorry I spoke so roughly, son,” Drevin said as he gently touched the back of the boy’s head. “We’ll talk about this in the morning.” Sadiah watched him go, touched and sad as he walked up the stairs to bed. “I’m sorry about Jhael,” Drevin said when the boy was gone. “There was no harm in it,” she said as she set the plate aside and turned toward Drevin. “He…felt very strongly about it.” “Indeed. I told you that he respects you.” Drevin reached up and stroked dark hair away from her dusky face. “You look tired.” He smiled as he kissed her softly on the forehead. “You’re supposed to be resting, remember? You’re my guest.” “Of course.”

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“Rest well, Sadiah. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” Sadiah nodded as she felt the whisper of Drevin’s slender fingers on her cheek. Her hand absently went to her face as she watched him walk up the stairs, and she left the kitchen for her own bed.

***** Sadiah stared up at the ceiling in the oil lamp’s dim light as she lay on the divan. She shifted under the heavy woolen blanket and pulled it tighter around her against the autumn chill that crept into the house.

Drevin is so charming and well-spoken. Just like a nobleman from Magda’s stories. He’s interested in what I do as a healer. He always asks how I am. Sadiah sighed. Part of her wanted to feel Drevin’s dark hands move over her with the same soft caress with which he’d touched her cheek when they’d been on the balcony and in the kitchen just a while ago.

What would be the worry? Sadiah threw back her blanket and took up the small oil lamp.

Would it matter if I told him yes? The house was quiet except for the soft creak of boards beneath her small feet as she went upstairs. Sadiah stopped just outside of Drevin’s door and tried to knock, but stopped. She bit her lip, suddenly unsure. Old fears rattled around in her, begging her not to do this.

Stop it! You can’t cower from this your whole life! Drevin isn’t the Khan. If you choose to do this, it doesn’t make you a woman who sleeps tent to tent like the evening stars amongst the camp followers. Not if it’s just once with one man. With a shaky hand, Sadiah knocked on Drevin’s door. Her heartbeats counted the seconds as she waited, tense, and then she heard his voice call from the other side. “Come!”

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Sadiah slowly opened the door and peered into the candlelit room. She was greeted by the soft, spicy scent of incense which drifted in the air. “I…” she started, but her voice softly died away at the sight of Drevin. He lay in bed on his side amid a pile of old books. A silken, copper-brown robe fell open to reveal a smooth, defined, midnight chest. The candlelight played across his skin, revealing subtle, striking shades of lighter blue. Long, silver-grey hair fell in his face as he looked up from the passage he was reading.

Goddess, he is beautiful! Sadiah thought absently. Drevin brushed some hair behind a slender, pointed ear, and greeted her with a nod. “Is everything well, Sadiah?” he asked, as he closed his book and sat up. “Did you need something? You’re not too cold down there, are you?” A blush broke out across Sadiah’s face when she realized that she was staring. She abruptly turned her head away. “No.” “Come.” Drevin smiled gently, as he gestured to the edge of the bed. “Sit with me.” Sadiah nodded and walked the few steps to Drevin’s bed. He moved his books to the small table next to the bed. She put the small oil lamp on the table near the books and sat next to him. For long moments, there was silence. “I…” Sadiah tried shyly, almost embarrassed. She felt the heat of another blush, and nervously grasped at her skirt as she looked away from Drevin’s curious gaze. “There’s no shame in saying it,” Drevin murmured as he took one of her hands in his. “I understand if you don --” “I want you!” Mortified at her words, Sadiah looked down at the floor.

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“That is, I’d like you to…show me what it’s like.” She nearly jumped when Drevin gently turned her face to him. Her cheeks were a dusty rose from her fierce blush. “It would be my honor and pleasure, Sadiah,” Drevin said softly. He gathered Sadiah into his arms, and she rested against his chest. She stayed there for a long time; her heart was beating so fast that, she thought it might burst. Drevin brushed away some of her hair and saw that her brow was furrowed. “What troubles you?” he asked softly. “They always bled,” she murmured, as she looked up to him. “Does it…hurt?” “Almost always, the first time. It’s a small thing compared to the pleasure you’ll feel. The pain doesn’t last, I promise you.” Sadiah nodded, and she shyly, hesitantly pressed her lips to Drevin’s. She felt his hand gently twine in her hair as softly kissed her back. His lips lingered on hers as the tip of his nose brushed her cheek. “Are you sure?” Drevin asked softly. “If you have any misgivings, tell me.” Sadiah nodded and he kissed her once more. She watched as he got up and went to a small niche in the wall across from the bed. There was a small statue of two nude Erebani elves in black stone. They were wrapped in a passionate embrace. The male was on his knees, his eyes shut tight with intense pleasure while he penetrated the female straddling his hips. Her head was thrown back in pure ecstasy. Sadiah stared at the sculpture of the Erebani, taken aback for a moment, and blushed slightly. She felt the warmth of arousal pool in her belly at such a display and abruptly looked away.

Will Drevin take me like the Erebani woman carved in stone?

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Her breath caught in her chest at the thought of Drevin's hands parting her legs, pulling her up onto his lap, and slowly guiding her onto his cock. His midnight arms gently held her; his lips tenderly caressed her neck and down to her breasts… Drevin spoke something softly in his language, and Sadiah looked up to see him light a candle before the onyx couple. “What did you say just now?” Sadiah asked as Drevin settled in behind her on the bed and pulled off his robe. “I said ‘Our bodies are your temple. Let our loving be our prayers, our pleasure, our offerings.’” “It…sounded beautiful.” “We Erebani,” Drevin said as he kissed her shoulders, “revere, quite simply, sex and death. Our god Eilon is the god of death, magic, and secrets, and his lady, Inarah, the goddess of sex, and therefore, life, fertility, and pleasure.” Sadiah glanced nervously at the statue of the two who were entwined as one. She’d never thought of sex and pleasure together before. She wanted to feel the same joy and pleasure as the Erebani woman in the statue. She wanted to feel that with Drevin. “Together they complete each other, as we will. Making love, especially for the first time, is considered sacred. I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask their blessing.” He swept aside Sadiah’s long hair, and before she could even say anything, he lifted her tunic over her head, mindful of her bandaged arm. Embarrassed at her sudden nakedness and the press of his warm flesh against her back, Sadiah pulled away from him. She felt the furious heat of her blush run across her cheeks. “You needn’t fear anything, Sadiah,” Drevin tried to assure her. “You’re a very brave, very beautiful woman.” Sadiah closed her eyes and gingerly rested against Drevin for a moment.

Can’t you just trust him? Sadiah chided herself. Just for one night?

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Drevin kissed Sadiah’s shoulders, and she reluctantly let him. She felt the lightest touch of fingers at her waist as he gently kissed up her neck to her cheek. His deft fingers undid the ties of her skirt, and she shifted her hips. He slowly, carefully slipped it off. His fingers caressed the curve of her hips and up her sides. She felt them wander as they admired the sensuous line of her spine, which led to the kissable small of her back. Sadiah felt herself gently pulled against Drevin’s chest again. One of his hands gently cupped one of her dusky breasts. She felt the gentle press of his hard cock against her back. “Sadiah…” Drevin murmured, as he nuzzled at her ear. “Sweet Sadiah, I’ll be gentle, I promise you.” Sadiah’s heart beat fast, too fast. Drevin’s hand traced down across her belly, his breath warm and seductive on her neck. She felt dizzy, and panic started to rise in her. She couldn’t breathe. All she could see were the Khan’s women in her head, over and over again. “I…I can’t,” Sadiah said as she looked up at Drevin and clutched at his hand before he could reach down and gently caress her between her silky legs. “Forgive me, I can’t.” She looked away from him, ashamed. Sadiah tried not to cry, but she couldn’t hold back her tears. “I’m sorry…” Drevin reached for his robe, put it around her and held her tight. He let her cry for a long time before she finally stopped. Sadiah looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes, and saw the sadness in his. “It isn’t your fault, lovely.” “I’m so sorry, Drevin,” she whispered as she clung to him, “I thought I could…” “Ssh…it’s all right. You’re all right, Sadiah. Nothing will happen between us unless you want it to.” A stray lock of silver-grey hair gently touched Sadiah’s cheek as Drevin cradled her in his arms. She reached out with a shaky hand and brushed it behind one of his pointed ears.

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Drevin’s eyes were filled with such kindness, such concern and gentleness. She thought she looked at a reflection of something very familiar to her, of what love could be. It was something she truly wished for herself one day. “Come. Lay down.” Drevin guided Sadiah to the soft pillows of his bed, and he lay down next to her. He gently pulled Sadiah to him and brushed aside some of her dark hair. “You’re safe,” he said softly. “You’re safe with me. There is nothing to fear.” Drevin kissed the back of her head and held her tight. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Sadiah. I swear it. When the time is right, I’ll be here for you, lovely.” Sadiah gave a tiny nod. She surrendered to his tender embrace and drifted off to sleep. She wasn’t aware of Drevin reaching over and kissing away her tears before he settled in next to her for the night.

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Chapter Twelve

The Queen Regent looked out the window of her spacious, royal suite. She saw out beyond the courtyard to the grey walls, and out over the dusty, cobbled streets. She could see thatched roofs, and further still until she saw the glistening waterline of Karenna’s harbor on the horizon. It was night, and night was when she worried the most.

Where is she? the Queen thought. Why hasn’t Serren found my daughter yet?! The Queen’s face tightened into a scowl as she looked up at the stars. Her little girl was out there somewhere, maybe kidnapped or killed or gods knew what all!

Incompetent fools. How hard was it to keep an eye on a young girl? It didn’t comfort her that she had quietly sent the guards who minded her quarters to the gallows. Her daughter was not here and remained lost. “Ceres,” a cool voice said from behind her. “What troubles you, my Queen?” “Ledah.” “Ah, yes,” he said as his arms casually came around the Queen Regent’s waist. “We still search for her.” Annoyed, Ceres pushed his arms away and turned, furious.

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“How hard is it to find a child, Serren? She couldn’t have gotten far!” “She’s hardly a child, Lady Regent,” Serren said as he reached out to idly stroke one of her cheeks through her gauzy black mourning veil. “Patience. We’re doing all that we can to find her.” Ceres’ eyes were harsh in the flickering lamplight. She was doubtful of him. “Come now, Lady. When have I ever spoken falsely to you?” Her eyes closed, annoyed by the patronizing tone he took with her. She felt the barest whisper of her veil slide across her face and up. He placed a kiss against her soft, unresponsive lips. “When have I ever?” Ceres’s eyes sparked with annoyance and anger at her lover. “Not so talkative now, lovely? Perhaps I can remedy that.” He continued to nip lightly at her lips with kisses. “I want my daughter back, Serren,” Ceres muttered softly. She hated when he did this, when she felt herself falling under his spell, but loved it all the same. Ceres grabbed as much of his short, dark blond hair as she could and crushed his lips to hers. Serren’s aggression heated her blood. She kissed him hard and forced her tongue past his lips as he pinned her against the stony walls of her suite. Ceres’ breath came in hard gasps now as she struggled for dominance in their kiss. She pressed herself salaciously hard against the thickening cock she felt beneath Serren’s black robes. He tried to force her back against the rough stone. “Gods, Serren…” She moaned harshly. Her eyes were sharp with the lust that was only brought on by frustration and anger. Her impatient hands tore at the black sash that kept him wrapped away from her.

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“What?” Serren purred darkly as he pulled the black velvet and satin of her regal gown up her shapely legs, to her hips. “Did you want something, Lady?” He reached up and tore her damp smallclothes away. Ceres saw a faint glow start around Serren in the dim light of the room, and with unnatural strength, he hefted her further up the wall. With his other hand, Serren undid his sash, and his heavy robes fell away, so his hips met hers more fully. “Say it,” he hissed as he settled between her legs. Ceres moaned again, frustrated that he wasn’t already in her. “Serren!” she snapped back, as she tried to force herself on his cock, but he deftly moved away. The Serren smiled deviously.

“Say it!” “Fuck me!” Ceres breathed as she started to wrap her legs tightly around his waist. “Stop playing, Serren, and fuck me!” Suddenly, Serren drove into her, and Ceres screamed in rough pleasure, as her back scraped against the wall, trapped between it and her lover. He slowly pulled out and when Ceres was about to protest, he drove into her again. He made her cry out in delectable ecstasy tinged with pain. “Is

this,”

Serren

punctuated

his

words

with

hard

strokes,

“what…you…wanted…Lady?” “Yes!” “Is it?”

“Yes!” One of Ceres’ hands grabbed and pulled at Serren’s hair while the other clutched at his back. With every thrust, she added fresh scratches near the older ones on his back.

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“Come!” Serren demanded against Ceres’ neck, occasionally laying kisses and bites up and down, as he moved faster in her. “Come, my Black Queen!” It was too much for Ceres and she cried out in harsh pleasure.

“Serren!” Ceres ground her hips into him and screamed when she came. She pulled him as close as she could. Serren grunted as his last few strokes laid into her. He stiffened and growled, nearly crushing her against the stone when he came himself. Neither Serren nor Ceres moved as both breathed hard against each other’s necks. Serren relished being inside her a bit longer, before he stepped away and let her down from the wall. Her skin was a little scraped, but it was a small thing. She’d come to find that she liked a little pain with her pleasure. “There now,” Serren purred, as he pulled his robes around him. “I believe you’ve found your voice again.” Ceres tried to straighten her dress and smooth her auburn hair away from her face. Serren interrupted her by taking her a little less than gently into his arms. “Oh,” he whispered in her ear, “the Council will see you. They wish to discuss the war and the Sovereign’s murder.” Ceres scowled at that. “Be at ease. I’ll be in council as well, Lady Regent -- I am your advisor, after all.” Serren placed a nearly chaste kiss on her neck, and when she turned to face him, he was gone. Ceres stood alone, anxious in the dimness of her regal suite once more.

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Chapter Thirteen

Tyric told her not to go, but she was defiant. Magda strung up her short bow and made sure she had plenty of arrows. She traded her skirts for more sensible soft leather pants, boots, and a heavy tunic. She was going, and there was nothing anyone could say to stop her. Tyric and his men already had a head start. If she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t be able to catch up to them.

Micar’s men. Magda corrected herself. They’re Micar’s. They’re loyal to him, and they’ll make sure Tyric carries out his orders. Is he really going to kill Sadiah because he was ordered to? She scowled and stuffed hard tack rations into a small bag.

She’s innocent! I can’t let him! I won’t let him kill her! Magda looked around her little tent. She’d mislaid her knives while she hurried to pack what meager things she had. Finally, she spied the small sheaths half-wrapped in soft leather. Magda picked them up, and slid the knives out to inspect them.

“In the Steppes,” Magda heard Sadiah’s voice. “A woman’s prized possessions were her knives. We weren’t allowed to carry weapons. Those were for men. Knives were common

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and we created a secret way of fighting with them called taio, which relied on speed, not brawn.” Magda slid her knives back into their sheaths. They were her only connection to Sadiah now. She set them low on her hips to conceal them like she’d been taught. It occurred to Magda that she never saw Sadiah use knives, aside from teaching her. She favored the staff and the odd magic she wielded. Even then, she used them sparingly. Magda stepped out of her tent, and took it down. Some of the other camp followers looked at her curiously. She didn’t care, and shrugged off their prying stares. When she was done, she threw her drab cloak around her and mounted her horse. She wished she could stay amongst the camp followers just a little longer, but she couldn’t, not if Tyric truly intended to do his duty.

One of General Durhan’s hounds might help, but there’s no time. The gods saw fit to give her father a daughter instead of a son. It hadn’t stopped him from teaching her to hunt and track. Magda was certain she could pick up Tyric’s trail. They were a small group, but a hound would’ve helped. Magda shook her head. There wasn’t time for her to get to the kennels. She flipped up the hood of her cloak, and spurred her horse. Worry suddenly welled up in her. It was an awful thought and her heart lurched.

No…best not think of that, I won’t! Not unless I have to. If I can somehow get to Sadiah first, to warn her, then maybe she, Tyric, and I can escape Micar. If I can convince Tyric of it. We can plead her case to the general -- he has to know of the work that Sadiah’s done in this camp. Whatever she had to do when she caught up to Micar and Tyric, she’d figure it out then. She quietly rode out of the camp, and Ghent’s fog made her a shadow, as it swallowed her on her way.

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Chapter Fourteen

Sadiah slowly woke, awash in the warmth of dark gold blankets. The morning light was soft and she only squinted a little against it. She was nestled against Drevin’s warm body, still wrapped in his robe. Sadiah felt safe and comfortable in his arms. It felt like something she had been searching for her whole life, and her face fell. Drevin made her feel welcomed. He’d shared his home with her, and she’d even gotten used to looking after Jhael. She didn’t want to leave. She looked over at him; he was still asleep next to her.

I have to go. I have to keep moving. I can’t let Jhael and Drevin get caught up in my troubles. Sadiah lay there, contemplating getting out of bed. She looked at Drevin for a moment and tentatively reached out to brush away some of his hair. His face was peaceful, strong, and noble. The tips of her fingers brushed his dark cheek. You…remind me of someone, something… “Good morning, lovely,” Drevin said softly. He rose over Sadiah and gently kissed the back of her neck. She looked back at him, her smile tinged with sadness.

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“You were so good to me last night.” His midnight hand came to rest on her cheek as he settled next her again. “What troubles you, Sadiah?” “Let’s not speak of it,” she said quietly. Drevin only nodded, and gave her a soft kiss before he let her up. Sadiah rose, and wrapped his robe around her. “Before you go,” Drevin said, as he took a burgundy robe off a nearby hook and pulled it on against the cool morning air. “I want to give you something.” He walked over to a small cabinet set in the wall, and took out a flat box. “Open it.” Sadiah did and inside was an intricately braided silver choker. Its center was set with a beautifully carved piece of jet. “There are three kinds of magic,” Drevin began. “High Magic -- Sarsi -- is what sorcerers and Avadirs use. Viraga use the more corrupted side called Irse.”

“Caliga is a different matter. Samarian Adepts once used it to manipulate the blackness of night. Over time, they became one with the darkness, and were able to call forth night even in the light of day. We Erebani came to be thereafter. Caliga is largely unused now, save by us.” “You were once Samarians?” “We are distant relatives now. We have our own culture, removed from our cousins who are more loving of the light.” For a moment, his fingers lingered on the choker in its case. “I don’t know what kind of magic you practice, if it is a kind of Sarsi at all,” Drevin said, rather puzzled, “but it is very strong in you. When you leave, find a mentor you can

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trust. If you don’t learn to control it, you will attract those who seek to exploit or hurt you, because they see you as a threat.” Sadiah tensed at that. She knew men like that, men like Micar. “In the meantime, wear this,” Drevin said, as he took the choker out. “It has Caliga woven into it, and it will hide you. All you have to do is will yourself unseen.” He gently slid the band around Sadiah’s neck. It tingled with magic as it adjusted itself to fit perfectly. Drevin nodded, satisfied, and went to dress. “It belonged to someone dear to me once,” he said. “It didn’t save her life, but maybe it will save yours one day.” “Thank you.” Sadiah saw the sadness in Drevin’s eyes; he didn’t want her to go. The war-torn land was unsafe, her magic a beacon for anything that craved it. She felt the weight of silver and jet against her throat, and swallowed hard against tears that threatened to well up in her eyes.

If only I could stay… She reached up and tentatively, lightly brushed the midnight hand at her cheek. “Thank you.” Drevin said softly. “The gods were good to send you to us. You’ve cared for us so well, and breathed new life into ours. There will always be a place for you with Jhael and me.” Sadiah suddenly threw her arms around Drevin and buried her face in his neck. A tear rolled down her cheek as she held onto him one last time.

***** Not long now, Micar thought impatiently as he spurred his nightmare forward. Not much further. Soon I’ll have you, my little Mirikinn barbarian.

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He hadn’t expected Sadiah to come all the way into the Marches. He idly wondered why an Erebani elf was all the way out here as well. It was mostly wilderness in the south and bogs and marshlands in the north. It was uninhabitable for the most part. The early morning was cold and there was the crunch of dead leaves beneath the hooves of the horses. The nightmare that led the soldiers exhaled plumes of smoke that stank of brimstone and angrily gnashed its teeth. The scout stopped abruptly at a wall of thick, tangled brush. “It’s nearly impassable!” the scout called out. Tyric rode up towards the scout and Micar, and glared at the Viraga. “Don’t be so dour, Captain,” the Viraga smirked. “You’ll be able to do your duty soon enough.” “Sadiah’s innocent and you know it!” “You’d think that, wouldn’t you, Captain?” Micar said, faintly amused as he looked at the undergrowth. The Viraga reached out, and the brush began to turn a sickening black. It started to rot away at his presence. The closer Micar got, the faster the corruption spread until he was able to wade his nightmare through the thick brush. Micar sharply waved the soldiers to follow. Some had to force their horses through the unnatural pass he created. The horses whinnied and nickered as their riders struggled to keep control. They knew when death had touched something. “I’ve seen her with my own eyes, Captain Tyric,” Micar said. “I have seen her in the hands of the enemy, or should I say…arms.” “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Micar savored the captain’s anger. He liked to see him rattled, to see the fire in him. It was exactly the way he wanted him before they reached Sadiah. He’d gladly take any opportunity to twist that thorn in the captain’s side.

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“Save your anger for the execution, Tyric.” Micar smiled deviously. “You’ll need it.”

***** “Father!” Drevin heard Jhael yell. “Father! Sadiah!” He and Sadiah rushed downstairs to find the boy trying to catch his breath. “What is it, Jhael?” “Soldiers,

Father,”

Jhael

managed

between

breaths.

“Soldiers

are

coming!

They’re…coming through the brush!” Cold gripped Sadiah as she knelt to the boy. “Did you see how they were dressed?” she asked. Jhael bit his lip. “Please, Jhael. It’s important.” “No, but I saw flags,” he said “There were two. One was red and it had a gold snake in a circle with its tail in its mouth. The other was dark blue with a griffin.” “Do you know this?” Sadiah said, as she pulled the braided silver from her neck. “It…was my mother’s.” “Sadiah,” Drevin broke in, “What’s --” “Do you know how it works?” Jhael looked to his father, fearful. “Do you know?” Sadiah asked more firmly. The boy’s attention snapped back to her, and he nodded. “Take it. Hide in the woods. No matter what you hear or see, stay hidden. Your father and I will come for you when we can.”

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Jhael looked at the choker and then at Sadiah. His father had given this to her. Did that mean she wanted to stay after all? He didn’t want these soldiers to come. They were going to ruin everything again! “I don’t want to leave you and Father!” Jhael cried, as tears streamed down his dark cheeks. “Please!” “You must,” Sadiah said, as she fought tears of her own. “Be brave, Jhael.” Jhael looked to his father, and Drevin nodded. Whatever was coming, it was bad, and he couldn’t risk his son. Jhael was the only thing he had left. Drevin quickly said something to his son in Erebani. The only thing Sadiah could make out was Tarathene. Jhael hugged his father one last time, and ran. Pitch-black night spilled out from the piece of jet. With every step, he was engulfed in blackness until he and the darkness disappeared as he passed out the door. From her pack, Sadiah took her knives. She strapped them to her hips where they became unseen. “Sadiah, what’s this about?” She looked up at Drevin as she grabbed her staff. There was fear for her and his son in his eyes. “A Viraga called Micar bears the banner of the circled serpent. He’s obsessed with having me for an apprentice. I refused him many times, but he always hounded me. During a skirmish, I snuck away so he’d think me dead, but…” Drevin’s dark brow furrowed. It only made his handsome face grim. “This is what I meant by people who would be attracted to your power.” “I didn’t think he would go this far!” Sadiah said as she snatched her pack from the floor and headed for the door. Drevin grabbed her arm. “People who seek power go as far as they like. Remember that, Sadiah.”

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She wanted to shrink away from him then, but Drevin softened as he let her go. “I’m not strong enough to stand against Micar.” “Yes, you are,” Drevin said, as they hurried down the stairs together. “and I’ll be with you…”

***** Magda hid in the brush. She saw Sadiah come out of nowhere. Quietly, she slid an arrow from her quiver. Behind Sadiah was an Erebani and her heart sank.

Micar can’t be right! Sadiah was kidnapped or taken prisoner, or… The soldiers, led by Micar and Tyric, grabbed her attention. Magda could smell rotting plants from the Viraga’s presence. It cut a black swath through the Marches, and made it easy for her to follow. She nocked her arrow, and took a deep breath. Tyric dismounted, then Micar behind him. The soldiers fanned out around Sadiah and the Erebani elf. Tyric drew his sword and leveled it at Sadiah. Magda pulled back her arrow, with three targets to choose. Her fingers ached on her bowstring, but she kept still.

If Sadiah is a traitor, I want to hear it from her own mouth! Magda swore to herself. “Sadiah of the Mirikinn” she heard Tyric say, “you’re charged with sedition and spying for the Erebani during wartime. For these crimes, you are to be executed by the sword.” “Tyric! You don’t believe this? This Erebani was ill. I aided him and his son, nothing more!” Magda saw Sadiah look at Micar. “This is your doing, Viraga!” “Kill her, Tyric,” Micar ordered. “Kill the traitor now!” Tyric raised his long sword… “Tyric, don’t do this,” Magda murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you!”

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Her eyes watered with tears, which she tried to shake away. “Don’t make me…” Her fingers burned with the shot she couldn’t hold any longer and she let go. Magda’s arrow found its mark -- a soldier. His horse panicked and the soldiers broke rank. Tyric swiftly turned his swing from Sadiah to Micar. It was a clean blow to his gut, but Tyric’s long sword skittered off stony flesh. Micar’s flinty eyes danced brightly. “Arrest the traitorous captain!” Micar said as he drew light Soreshan cinquedeas made of inconel. “Kill the Erebani!” An arrow glanced off Micar, one that could’ve killed him. He didn’t notice as he turned towards Sadiah. “The barbarian woman is mine!” Sadiah’s grip tightened on her staff. Large, wicked thorns grew out, and the wood glowed ethereal blue. Behind her, Drevin called upon night and darkness and it started to swirl around, blotting out the sunlight around him. He formed a short sword from the darkness and attacked the dismounted soldiers. “Parlor tricks!” Micar spat at Sadiah’s paltry defense. “Mere child’s play!” Micar swung at her. Sadiah raised her staff against the jarring blow of swords coming down on her. She buckled, but her oaken staff resisted. Pleased, Micar backed off. “My apprentice…” he goaded. “Become what you are!” “I’ll send you to the Ninth Hell myself!” Sadiah hissed. She swung her staff and an arc of blue flame threatened to cut into Micar. He deftly crossed his swords against her magic. It died away, absorbed into the blades. “You have to earn that right, woman!”

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His blades sang with raw power as he uncrossed them. Sadiah barely had time to will a silvery shield around her. “Gods!” she cried at the impact against her own magic. It pushed her back hard, her heels digging furrows in the ground. “Sadiah!” she heard Tyric yell above the brawl’s din. “I’m coming!” Tyric promptly gutted a soldier who had the bad luck to stand between him and the Mirikinn. He went for another, and an arrow sprouted from the soldier’s eye. “Micar! Leave her alone!” He grunted, ran another soldier through, and pushed him off his blade. “Stay out of this, whelp,” Micar said as he gestured at Tyric. “You don’t have much luck defending women, anyway.” Magda watched Tyric go down, clutching his stomach. She pulled another arrow from her quiver and ignored the Erebani. He seemed to be killing as many soldiers as she. Magda saw Sadiah leaning on her staff, exhausted. Micar was coming at her again. “I don’t have a chance at Micar,” she muttered. Magda was running out of arrows. With her last few, she resolved to shoot anyone who came near Tyric. It was down to Sadiah and the Erebani now.

Mother of All, she prayed as she loosed another arrow. Let them prevail.

Sadiah was heedless of the men who fell to arrows and shadows. Her attention remained on Micar. “Stop this foolish resistance,” he said. “I’ll be forced to hurt you, if you give me cause.” Sadiah scowled. She forced herself to not lean on her staff, despite her exhaustion and the pain in her arm. Micar swung at her, but her staff didn’t hold. His unearthly blades

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sheared through wood, and drove Sadiah to her knees. Micar sheathed one sword, and grabbed her by her hair. Sadiah sliced into him with knives she pulled from her hip. They flickered with bright silver flame. Sadiah glared at him, and Micar smiled wickedly. “Just a scratch, Sadiah? Is that the best a barbarian like you can do?” He raised the blade he had drawn. “I’ll give you more than a scratch to remember this day by!” Micar saw the Erebani rush past him out of the corner of his eye. He swung his sword in a sharp arc. Sadiah tried to parry, but he sliced through. She uttered a cry, and dropped the remains of her knives, defenseless. It looked like Micar was going to sheath his sword, but then he shoved the point back.

“Drevin!” Drevin’s eyes widened and Micar twisted the blade in his gut. Sadiah watched him fall when the Viraga pulled it out, and the dirk he’d formed with Caliga had vanished. Micar sheathed his cinquedea, still wet with black blood. He grabbed Sadiah and hauled her up to him. One arm held her roughly, back to chest, while the other held her head. “You bastard, you killed him!” “No,” Micar grunted. He turned her to look at Drevin, who lay crumpled on the ground.

“You killed him. This would not have happened if you had submitted to me!” “Let go of me!” She looked to the tree line and saw soldiers coming out of the brush. They had a struggling woman, and she recognized Magda. She had been the archer in the brush.

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Sadiah watched as they forced Magda to her knees. Tyric clutched his stomach in pain, some feet away. She was relieved that Magda wasn’t hurt. Even Tyric didn’t look too bad off. Her eyes darted back to Drevin, who lay in the grass. Black blood pooled around him as he bled to death. “Now, my dear,” Micar said, “Despite your follies in judgment, I’ll give you one last chance. In exchange for me allowing you to heal him, you’ll be my apprentice.” “Sadiah!” Tyric grunted, as soldiers pushed him back to his knees, “No! Don’t do it!” “Or you can let the Erebani die, I kill your friends, and I can mark you as a traitor to Asdurah. Everywhere you go, soldiers and peasantry will try to kill you on sight. When you tire of running…” The back of one of Micar’s cold grey hands idly brushed her cheek. “…you will come to me and beg to be my apprentice. Choose. Your time, or should I say, the Erebani’s, is short.” Sadiah’s eyes glanced between Drevin, Magda, and Tyric. She couldn’t let Drevin die any more than she could let the other two. “Let me go. I’ll do anything you want, Micar. I’ll be your apprentice.” The Viraga smiled deviously as he released Sadiah, and she ran to Drevin’s side. “Don’t do this Sadiah!” Tyric yelled after her. “Don’t!” Sadiah knelt and pulled Drevin onto her knees. His eyes lolled open and he reached for her face. He fell short and left a weak smudge of dark blood on her neck. “I need my bag,” she said, as she took Drevin’s hand. Micar went to where her drab healer’s bag had dropped. “This one here?” Sadiah nodded, and Micar picked it up. Everything in it started to spoil and the bag rotted away into nothing. “I needed that! How am I supposed do this without it?”

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“Then the Erebani will have died for nothing. Perhaps you’re not such a worthy apprentice.” Sadiah turned away and held Drevin to her. “I’m sorry,” Sadiah wept as she stroked his face. “I’m so sorry…” Sadiah’s tears fell on Drevin’s face, and his eyes slipped close. She felt his hand go slack in hers. “No! Gods, no!” She clutched as much of him as she could to her chest, and more blood smeared her clothes. “Don’t die,” Sadiah whispered. “Please don’t die…” Warmth started to spread through her as she rocked Drevin back and forth. A brilliant corona of silver-blue light softly touched everything around her. Grass became greener, flowers bloomed, and the wounded in her midst started to heal -- even Drevin and Tyric. “That’s quite enough,” Micar said. He jerked her away from Drevin. The Erebani moaned, barely conscious, and tumbled off Sadiah’s lap. “Save your strength for Karenna,” Micar said, as he picked Sadiah up. “Take the girl and the captain back to camp and cage them. They can swing in the sun and rot, for all I care.” Micar looked back at the Erebani. “Lash him to a horse. I’ll take him. He’ll be a suitable gift for Serren. Perhaps he’ll find some use for him.” Tyric and Magda struggled as they watched Micar mount his horse. He pulled Sadiah up and possessively wrapped her in his crimson cloak. She was his now, and Micar wanted them to know it.

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Micar took the reins to Drevin’s horse and tied it to the barding of his nightmare. He spurred the beast, and rode triumphantly for Karenna.

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Chapter Fifteen

Serren walked down the quiet castle halls to the rotunda where the council met. If he had his way, he would dissolve it. For appearance’s sake, he settled for being one of seven, for now.

My patience wears thin, Serren, a dark, silky voice said in his head. Apologies, my Prince, but I’ve been a little preoccupied with this damnable council. The council is not your concern! We have a bargain, Serren. Indeed, my Prince. You’ll have your prize soon. I’d better. You’ll know it by the disturbance in the ether. Don’t make me send my Fallen. Yes, my Prince. The Prince’s presence faded. Every day he grew more impatient, but Serren had more pressing things to worry about than the Prince and his Fallen. The men at the table looked up as Serren entered through the double doors. He was stony as ever, and sat next to the Black Queen. Ceres wore only mourning black after the Sovereign’s death. She vowed to until his assassin was found.

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It was a cunning move on Ceres’s part, Serren thought. It garnered the support and the sympathy of the people.

It bought her time, Serren mused to himself. It may still. “Serren,” Master Ahbrin said as he inclined his head in token politeness. “Thank you for joining us.” The old man wheezed. His health was not so good these days, Serren knew, but his wits…

He’s sharper than any old man should be at his age. Thian’s most trusted advisor, he was. “Now that we are assembled,” Ahbrin started, and took a sip of water, “there are many matters that need tending to.” The others around the table nodded, and Carsel, a rather rotund man, spoke up. “Let us speak of this war, Lady. Three years and nothing but dead soldiers! The people are getting restless now. They want answers and, the longer this drags on, the more they’ll want to riot!” “Yes!” Halin said. “Not to mention the cost to maintain the army! You can only tax the people so much before they break. I fear not even your charms can console them, especially when soldiers ride into any town they please and take what they want!” Serren waved a dismissive hand. “The coffers are flush,” Serren said, unconcerned. “They’re flush because of years of Thian’s careful planning!” Carsel protested. “It can’t possibly last. Not when our spies say we might face the Samarians by winter as well!” “This is a time of need, Carsel! Asdurah is threatened by the Erebani. Our sovereign was murdered by one of their assassins. We have the right to press them until they give us the man.” “Funny that, Serren,” Carsel snapped. “The Samarian elves seem to believe their dark cousins stand falsely accused.”

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“Rumor, conjecture,” Serren said, “Nothing more.” Master Ahbrin watched the exchange and then turned to Ceres. She sat with practiced poise as the men argued. “I’d like to know the Queen’s thoughts,” the old man said as he tried to gauge Ceres from behind her veil. “Please, Lady. What is your counsel on the matter?” Ceres slowly lifted her veil to reveal her beautiful, oval face. Her light green eyes glittered with cool, noble bearing. “We shall stay the course,” she said, “and watch the Samarian elves. When the time comes, we shall fortify accordingly.” “We wouldn’t need to,” Aran spoke up, “if we had proof, a confession, anything! I don’t know if you realize, Lady Regent, but this hurts our standing with our other allies, Samarians aside!” “Watch your tongue,” Serren warned. “Take care how you address my Lady!” His use of Lady carried more weight than anyone cared to openly admit. It was no secret that they were lovers even when Thian was alive. “Please, gentlemen,” Master Ahbrin said. “We all know the importance of proof in the matter of the sovereign’s death. Otherwise, the war on the Erebani would be most unjust. Our Queen Regent is most just. I’m sure she has devised something cunning to produce what we require.” The majority of the council nodded. There was a flicker of something that passed over the Queen Regent’s face, but Serren couldn’t be sure. “Now, is there anything else that we might discuss?” the old man asked as he sipped at his water, and gave his signal. “A more sensitive matter,” Tobin, a quiet, younger councilman, said. “The Crown Princess has been missing for six months now. With the kingdom at war, we can’t be sure that she is still alive.”

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The Queen Regent’s perfect poise cracked. “I don’t believe that,” Ceres snapped. “Serren’s men search for her now. My daughter is alive; I’ll send her abductors to the gallows myself!” “My Lady, it was not my intent to offend. It stands to reason that her abductors would’ve ransomed her by now if she were still alive.” “How dare you --” “Stop this!” Serren snarled. Serren looked around the table to catch others’ reactions, especially Ahbrin’s. This was a bad time for Ceres to be rattled, and that was precisely the old man’s aim. “The Queen has lost her husband and now you twist in her the loss of her daughter as well? Get to your point, Tobin, if you have one!” “She should consider a Consort,” Tobin said. “One that we might ally with, to help see us through these questionable times. It would be prudent to reestablish the royal line as well.” Serren saw Master Ahbrin nod as he took another a sip of his water.

Well played, old man. He knew then that if he didn’t find Ledah soon, Ceres would remain unsettled. He couldn’t have that, not now. He couldn’t have her giving away what she knew.

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Chapter Sixteen

It was sunset when they stopped and Micar let Sadiah down from his nightmare. She wobbled weakly, but shook it off, determined to see to Drevin. Micar offered Sadiah no help. Drevin landed with a thump on the ground despite her effort to lower him slowly. Sadiah was at his ear to comfort him. He took a large pack from the back of his horse, and threw it at Sadiah’s feet. “Set the tent there,” he said as he pointed to the clearing. “No fire. This place is known for Erebani who raid at night.” Micar went to the small pouch at his waist. He pulled out a small orb of smoky quartz that glowed with a pale, eerie light. “Take this to see by.” Sadiah snatched it away. Somehow, she managed to get Drevin onto his feet, and they made for the clearing. She settled him against a tree. “I’ll be back,” Sadiah said as she brushed bloodstained hair away from his brow. She set up the tent as quickly as she could, but she was nearly exhausted again. “Your tent is raised,” Sadiah mumbled. She turned back to Drevin, but Micar grabbed her roughly.

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“I suggest you make use of it. I want you well rested when I begin your training.” Sadiah looked at the tent and then Micar while he brought the nightmare and the other horse. In the cold, eerie light of the orb, the horse Drevin had been on looked sickly and weaker. “Drevin needs it more.” The tent glowed faintly inside as they entered. All Sadiah could do was make Drevin comfortable.

What I did in the Marches to Drevin, I shouldn’t have been able to do. What’s happening to me? It felt different than my other magic. It felt…old; older than what I know, and more powerful. She looked down at Drevin. His midnight face was a paler shade of blue, and she gently stroked his cheek. Sadiah closed her eyes. The need to help him, to ease his suffering, ignited that strange, ancient feeling inside her again. She pushed herself once more and felt healing warmth flow from her to him. She felt his wound close a little more and his body strengthen. Sadiah took off her cloak and put it around him. She would have to lay against him tonight to keep him warm since there was no fire. “I’ll get you some water.” Drevin nodded weakly, and his hand groped for hers. She took it. “I’ll be back.” She kissed him on the forehead, and left the tent. Micar watched as she took the water skin from his horse. “What is the Erebani to you?” Sadiah glared at him, defiant. “That is not your concern,” she said. “He must be something to you.” Micar smirked as he gestured idly to the tent.

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“Did you find the elf in the fields of Ghent? Did you take pity on him, and fall in love? Is that why you abandoned Tyric and little Magda? You ran off in the middle of a skirmish just to be with him? How else would you have ended up hidden away in the Marches?” “I didn’t abandon anyone -- I left because of you. I tired of your…your obsession with me! Drevin was ill and I took care of him until he was better. That’s all.” “Oh, but you did. You abandoned them. You left without so much as a farewell. It’s really a wonder that they came for you at all.” Micar’s sly grin pierced her. “As for Drevin, I’m sure he took care of you in return as well. Won’t the captain be surprised at that. I’m sure he’ll understand.” “That’s enough!” “You’re always running from something, Sadiah,” Micar said as he took a step toward her. “You ran from the Steppes, likely. You ran from Tyric who, near as I could tell, loved you and that camp follower that befriended you. You appear so strong, yet you’re so fragile and weak inside.” Sadiah felt herself prickle with anger and denial. Micar hit on a raw truth in her, and she fought against his vicious insight. “I won’t allow weakness in my apprentice,” Micar said. “It will be the first thing I train out of you. To stand your ground and take what you want is all one can do. Now go water your elf. I’m sure he’s missing your company.” Sadiah turned away from Micar, furious and speechless. She went back to try and take care of Drevin as best she could.

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Chapter Seventeen

Micar’s soldiers stopped for the evening to make camp. They set Magda and Tyric back to back, tied up. “I told you to stay behind,” Tyric muttered. Magda glared at the captain, though he couldn’t see her. “Usually, you ask how someone is first.” Silence. “Are you all right?” “Fine.” Magda sighed. She wondered how she fell in love with a man who seemed to be so thick sometimes. “You?” “I don’t know what Sadiah did,” Tyric said. “But…” “Micar goaded Sadiah, pushed her too far this time,” Magda said. She squirmed against Tyric’s back, and tried to test her bonds. “I’ve never seen her do anything like she did back in that clearing, and that Erebani…”

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Magda paused and thought she felt the handle of her knife. She smiled slightly. The soldiers hadn’t bothered to check her as thoroughly as they checked Tyric.

Fools. Thank Ahliel, Sadiah taught me her way with knives. “She should’ve let the Erebani die.” Tyric grunted against Magda’s wiggling. “She did it for us.” Tyric was silent. “Stop fussing,” Magda grumbled. “I can’t reach.” She almost had her fingers on the pommel, but it slipped away. It occurred to her that Tyric might be in a better position to grab it than she. “How far can you reach behind me?” Tyric felt the knife’s pommel. “If you tip the sheath, I could reach it.” “We think alike, Tyric.” She smiled slightly as she tipped the leather forward. Their fingers brushed, and if they hadn’t been tied up, she would have enjoyed that a bit more. “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?” Tyric asked quietly, as he slid the knife out, mindful not to nick Magda. “Hidden knives, an archer of no mean skill… Here you’ve been playing the quiet, dutiful camp follower all along. Where did you learn to shoot like that?” “My father happily indulged me in my youth.” “Good man. We’d be the worse for wear otherwise.” There was silence for a moment before he spoke. “Do you think Sadiah could be a traitor? The way she was with that Erebani…” Magda’s brow furrowed a moment as Tyric tried to cut the ropes.

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“She’d never betray us,” Magda said. “I don’t know about the Erebani but…if she was, I’d want to hear it from her own mouth.” Magda felt one of the ropes give and the others followed. “That’s reasonable,” Tyric said. “I have a few questions for Sadiah when we get her back.” Magda puzzled over his tone. She thought he would be eager to have her at his side again, but it was hard to say.

It’s just as well, Magda thought, as the last rope came free and they quietly unraveled themselves. Sadiah did leave without warning. It might’ve been because of Micar, but with the Erebani, it was hard to say now. Tyric grabbed Magda’s wrist and she froze. “Did you see that?” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of blue. A soldier screamed when a curved blade suddenly pushed its way through his chest. The camp erupted in chaos as men scrambled to defend themselves. The air was alive with magic, as black-clad figures emerged from the trees, chanting and mercilessly cutting them down. “Come on!” Tyric pulled Magda to her feet and made for some cover. They ducked into some thick brush. Tyric kept Magda close while she watched Micar’s men fall to the sword or flee. “They move like…Avadirs,” Tyric murmured. “Their swords look like kiris.” “That’s correct,” a smooth, male voice said from behind. Tyric stood abruptly with Magda tucked behind him. There was something familiar about that voice. The Avadir sheathed his kiris, and threw back his black hood. He was a Samarian elf with sharp features and light brown hair pulled back into a short ponytail. A shadow of a rakish goatee was on his chin, and his hazel eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

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“Liam!” Magda ran from behind Tyric and threw her arms around the Samarian elf. “I see you’ve missed me.” Liam smiled and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Tyric took a step forward into the moonlight. “Liam…” Magda remained in Liam’s arms and he looked over the top of her head at Tyric. “By the gods,” Liam murmured. “It’s been a long time since Karan Dun.” Liam looked back down at Magda. “You know how to pick your companions, Magdalena,” he said, “but you’re none the worse for wear, I see.” “Tyric’s not so bad.” She smiled as she pulled away from him. “A little grumpy, but otherwise all right.” Liam chuckled a bit at that. “She has you pegged perfectly, my friend.” The Samarian embraced Tyric. He brushed some of his hair behind his ear, and he kissed him lightly on the mouth. Most Samarian elves favored male and female lovers. Magda wondered if they had been at one time. She never thought that Tyric was the sort to take a male lover; especially for all the quiet attention he seemed to pay Sadiah. “What are you doing here?” Tyric asked, as Liam let him go. “How do you know Magda?” Liam waved them back to the camp that the other Avadirs had finished securing. “Rescuing you two, of course,” he said. “We ran across an Erebani boy hiding in the Marches. He said his father and a woman called Sadiah were taken by a man who bore a

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banner of a circled serpent. There were also two prisoners he described as you two. Thanks to his keen eye in noting your direction, we found you faster.” “What happened to the boy?” Magda asked. “One of my riders took him to the port of Aranti. He insisted on going to Tarathene.” “That’s all the way out on the Iron Coast,” Tyric said. Liam shrugged. “Maybe the boy has family there,” he said. “Many of our dark cousins flee to the islands these days. As for Magdalena…” The Samarian glanced over at her as she retrieved her bow. “Would you like to tell him, Magda?” he called to her, “Or should I do the honors?” “You can if you want,” she said as she carefully inspected her bow. “I hardly think it matters either way.” “Tyric Alren, son of Balas,” Liam started, oddly formal. “May I present to you Ledah Magdalena, Crown Princess, and heiress to the throne of Asdurah.”

Tyric stared in disbelief. He thought of the royal Princess as prim and proper, soft and pampered. Yet this woman posed as a camp follower. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came. The captain dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “Lady,” he said finally. Magda raised an eyebrow and looked at Liam, who was amused. She walked over to where Tyric knelt, and gently touched the top of his head. “Get up already,” she said softly. “You don’t have to do that. Besides, I don’t stand on ceremony much these days.” “You never stood on ceremony, Magda.” Liam chuckled lightly.

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Tyric stared at Magdalena as he stood. “Why pose as a camp follower all this time?” Magda sighed. “I suppose I should explain what I’m doing out here.” She gestured for Liam and Tyric to follow her, and they took a place around the fire.

***** “The Queen locked you in a tower apartment for two and a half years?” Tyric asked. Magda nodded. “Like a bird in a gilded cage. I was cut off from the outside for most of this war. After my father’s death, she decided that she couldn’t have me roaming about. She said she feared assassins might take me as well.” “At least that is what she said,” Liam said as he idly poked at the fire. “Master Ahbrin has a different theory, based on the dying words of a woman who was hidden away in the dungeon. The old man sends his regards, by the way, Magda, and hopes that you stay safe.” Magda smiled at that. She missed her old friend and mentor. “So how did you escape if you were locked up?” Tyric asked. “Master Ahbrin had me stolen by some of Liam’s men,” Magda said. “The plan was that I would go to the war camps to see if I could learn anything about my father’s death while he tried to test his theory about the assassin who killed him.” “My men and I have been watching her,” Liam added. “From a discreet distance, of course. We lost track of Magda between trying to keep the Viraga from getting at her and the Erebani. It wasn’t until now that we’ve manage to find her again. I’m glad she fell in with you, Tyric.” Tyric nodded, thoughtful as Magda twisted her hair up into a bun and sat back against Liam.

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“I haven’t found anything useful.” Magda sighed, frustrated. “General Durhan prepared to make me his personal page. It might’ve brought me closer to something, but…” “We’ll find something,” Liam said as he brought an arm around her. “I’m sure Master Ahbrin has something cunning in mind. We’ll see justice for this, I promise you.” “What do we actually know about the sovereign’s death?” Tyric asked quietly. “What we know so far is this,” Liam started. “Someone snuck into the sovereign’s quarters and murdered him with a dagger infused with magic, according to Master Ahbrin. Servants who were near at the time said they saw a man-shaped shadow slip out from his quarters.” “They assumed it was an Erebani who did it?” “Indeed. They were so certain that the Queen Regent, at the word of her war-mage advisor, declared war on the Erebani elves the instant they found out.” “They should have,” Tyric said. “The sovereign’s murder can’t go unpunished.” “Assassination is still accepted amongst nobility,” Magda spoke up from the comfort of Liam’s arms. “Even in Asdurah. Many times, Erebani are used because they are the best, and won’t, from what I understand, do this without a Writ.” “That’s correct,” Liam said. “An Erebani assassin would just as soon as kill himself before doing something like that. There was no Writ found or presented to the Magistrate that Master Ahbrin knows of.” “The Samarians believe the Erebani have been unjustly accused. They’d never go against hundreds of years of honorable conduct.” “Unless one of their assassins went rogue,” Tyric suggested. “I don’t believe that.” “Coercion, then? Bribery, blackmail?” Magda asked. “I don’t know,” Liam admitted, “but there would have to be another party involved if that were true. I think it’s unlikely. Someone made it look like an Erebani did it.”

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Magda nodded, and Liam kissed the top of her head. She thought of Sadiah then and wondered if she was all right. She was in Micar’s hands now, and that was not a pleasant thought. Sadiah had been limp, nearly lifeless, when he carried her off. “You’ve had a busy day, Magdalena,” he said. “You should rest.” “I suppose…” She yawned Tyric watched the princess rise from the fire and Liam with her.

***** Liam held open the tent flap for Magda. She stepped inside and he fell in behind her. Magda lit a lantern with a sparker, set it aside, and she felt Liam’s arms gently come around. “I’m glad to see that you’re unhurt. I worried for you,” Liam said softly as he stroked her hair. “Those war camps are no place for you, even if you had fallen in with Tyric.” Magda sighed and leaned against him. He was so warm and comforting as she turned and gently nuzzled his chest. Liam held her tight for a moment and kissed the top of her head. “We’re in for troubled times.” “We’ve been in troubled times for a while now,” she said. “With my father’s death, Asdurah collapsed into war…” Magda felt Liam’s warm breath as his lips skimmed down her neck. She reached up to undo the black piece of silk that bound his hair. It fell in his eyes and she brushed it away. Magda’s fingers wandered down his face and neck. She stopped at the faint red line at his throat. “What’s this?” “A present from an Erebani scout.” Liam smiled slightly. “It wasn’t serious…” Magda stretched up to kiss it and he sighed softly “I’m glad you’re safe. I was beginning to wonder whether I’d ever see you again.”

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“I’ve missed you, Magdalena. I --” Magda half turned away from him as she undid her cloak. “You have Tyric now. So…” Liam gently grabbed Magda’s arm and turned her to him. “Truth. I have him again,” he murmured. “He is the only man for me just as you are the only woman.” He seized her mouth. His tongue gently forced its way past her lips and she opened to him. She sought the familiar warmth of his mouth as eagerly as he sought hers. Liam’s hands grabbed at her shirt and pulled it over her head. Her bun came undone and her long hair tumbled down past her shoulders. Magda’s fingers desperately sought the laces on his leathers, while his hands ran over her back and soft breasts. She jerked them down while Liam pulled his own shirt off. The Samarian gently pushed her down onto the pallet that barely separated them from the hard ground. He stripped away the last of Magda’s clothes and settled between her legs. Liam moaned softly at the feel of her wrapping around him. He thrust inside her, and Magda gasped into his neck. “Liam,” she cried out as she nipped at his slender, pointed ear. “Love me!” Liam hissed softly when Magda’s nails bit into his back and he wove his hands into her soft hair “My princess…” Liam propped himself up on his hands. He looked down at her while he threw his hips forward faster. “Liam -- harder!” Liam gasped as he moved to meet her demanding hips. Her soft, wet quim sucked his cock deeper and deeper inside and he snapped.

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“Sweet fucking gods, Magda!” he hissed as he drove harder. “So good, feels so good to be inside you again!” Magda bit her lip against the scream that rose in her chest. Her eyes fluttered half shut. “Open your eyes, sweet princess,” Liam growled softly as he bent to kiss and nip at her neck. “I want to see you when you come.” Magda’s eyes snapped open. Her hands caressed his face and Liam’s lips grazed one of her palms. “Come for me, love.” Liam moaned. “Take me with you!” Magda’s back suddenly arched and a thin cry escaped her lips as she came. Liam grunted softly as he buried his cock deep inside one last time as he followed her. They breathed hard as they gazed at each other while Magda stroked Liam’s long, sensitive ears. It made him shiver as he dropped down to his elbows. “I love you just as much as I love Tyric, amaia, he murmured as he stroked damp hair from her brow. “Never doubt that, no matter what happens. Suln guides those together who are meant to be together. The Mastress’s hand moves all.” She lay in his arms and nestled against him as she drifted off to sleep. It had been such a long time since Liam had whispered the Samarian word amaia -- beloved -- to her.

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Chapter Eighteen

There was something warm wrapped around him. Drevin struggled to open his eyes to see what it was. He saw a cloak and a coarse blanket thrown over him, but he felt something smooth against him. He raised his head and his chin brushed something soft. “Sadiah?” he managed. Drevin felt her head as she stirred against his chest. Sadiah carefully propped herself up. Her dusky breasts swayed gently against his chest. “Ssh. You need rest. Your wound is being difficult. It takes effort to heal it even a little.” Drevin laid his head back down on scratchy wool. “Inconel,” he muttered. “His blade was made of inconel.” Drevin winced. The memory of the unnaturally cold blade stabbing into his flesh made his gut hurt again. “Even we Erebani have trouble healing wounds from weapons made of it. He probably drew out my life’s essence through the blade to power his own magics. It would explain my weakness and why you have trouble healing me.” “Will you…live?”

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“I’ll live. I just need rest and time to heal, though I don’t think the Viraga will allow me that.” Sadiah looked away from Drevin. Her head hung sadly. “This is my fault,” she whispered. “If I hadn’t come you’d still have your home, and Jhael would be safe.” Drevin turned her chin back to him. He could barely see her sad face in the light that broke its way through the tent’s flap. “If you hadn’t, Sadiah, I’d likely be dead, and my son would be lost.” “How is that any different from now?” “Jhael will make it to safety,” Drevin said. “He’s remarkably resourceful for his age. As for us, we have each other. As long as we draw breath, we can escape the Viraga, join Jhael in Tarathene and --” Sadiah shook her head. “ -- if we try anything, he’ll kill you,” Sadiah said. “I wouldn’t put it past him to come in here while you’re weak, and I…I’d rather suffer under him than let him kill you!” “Sadiah…” Drevin tried to gently pull her to him, but he winced in pain. He wanted to hold her, but he could only stroke her hair. Sadiah took his hand in hers and kissed it softly. “Do you know where he is taking us?” Drevin asked. “Karenna, he said.” “That is the capital of Asdurah. The Viraga are working out of there, I think. They’re mercenaries who usurped the Avadirs after the sovereign died. The Avadirs are rebels now, hunted down and slain. There’s only a handful left, I think.” Drevin was quiet for a moment. He cupped Sadiah’s cheek with a dark hand. His lips trembled with words he wanted, needed to speak to her.

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“I --” Suddenly, the tent flap was thrown back. Harsh morning light came through, and Micar reared his ashen head. “Put some clothes on. You’re my apprentice, not some common whore.” Sadiah glared at him as she pulled the coarse blanket tighter around herself. “There wasn’t a fire. I had to warm him somehow!” “Get dressed and get this tent down, woman. I am fast losing what little patience I have.” The tent flap came down again, and Sadiah threw on her clothes. She helped Drevin up and out of the tent to the horses

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Chapter Nineteen

Grey dawn greeted Tyric as he left his tent. He looked back at the others arranged in a tight circle.

A princess. I can’t believe Magda’s a damned princess! Tyric needed time to himself so he could mull things over. Between Sadiah’s trouble and whatever intrigue Magdalena was embroiled in, things might get worse.

You’re a soldier, he told himself pointedly. Things are often worse. Tyric thought of Sadiah, and scowled at her being in Micar’s hands. The Viraga had gone to elaborate lengths to get her as his apprentice and entrap him to ensure no strong opposition remained in his way. He shook his head as he leaned against a tree. Hate coiled in him at how Micar had wrapped her in his cloak as he rode out like she was his prize.

If he’s harmed her in any way, I swear to all the gods in the heavens that I’ll -Tyric felt the briefest touch of a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Liam at his side. “Balas would be ashamed to know that you carry a mundane long sword,” Liam said, as he wove an arm around Tyric’s waist.

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“I haven’t been my father’s son in a while.” Liam idly gestured towards the princess’s tent. “Indeed. You still have your famous charm with the ladies, I see.” He smiled. “Magda has affection for you. Maybe if you weren’t so dour around her, the two of you wouldn’t be at odds.” “You’re fond of the princess yourself, Liam.” “I am. The time was never right for us to be more than…intimate friends. The Queen Regent disliked me, despite the sovereign’s approval. After his death, Magda was sent to the tower. “I had the pleasure of being her first kiss, you know.”

“You kissed the princess?” Tyric said. Liam chuckled. “Amongst other things. She said ‘if you beat me in a contest of archery, Liam, then I’ll let you be my first.’ I barely won that honor. No doubt you’ve seen her shoot by now?” Tyric nodded. He remembered the well-placed shots only a seasoned archer could’ve made when they fought in the Marches. “Magdalena has grown into a fine woman, despite these troubled times,” Liam said. “Her father would be proud.” There was silence, as Tyric’s hand caressed the Samarian’s slender neck. Liam gently brushed strands of hair away from Tyric’s brow. “You’re so tense…” “I worry for Sadiah.” “The Mirikinn woman the boy saw?” Liam said softly. “Magda mentioned her last night.”

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“She’s a good woman,” Tyric mused as he watched the sun rise higher in the sky. “A skilled healer, compassionate, kind…” “Do you love her?” Tyric tried to speak, to say yes, but the word caught in his throat. “I…care for Sadiah.” “Yes, but do you love her?” Tyric’s brow furrowed slightly. His feelings for the Mirikinn had drifted into friendship some time ago.

Liam…Liam is the one I’ve wanted all this time. Sadiah reminded me so much of him -- both of them are kind, gentle, and loving. I thought I could forget him by trying to love her, but… “Liam,” Tyric breathed, as he pressed against the Samarian. “I don’t. I don’t love her.” The sound of his own words shocked him as the realization finally sank in. Tyric gently caressed Liam’s soft cheek with a calloused thumb. He missed him so much. He smiled as he kissed Liam, softly and then deeper. “Gods…” Tyric gasped as he pulled the Samarian closer. Liam twined his hands in Tyric’s hair and teased him with the brush of his hips. “Remember those cold nights we spent together in Karan Dun?” Liam whispered to him. Tyric nodded through his kisses. He remembered how hard he’d been for Liam, and it surprised him. He’d been with a few women before and only a mild curiosity for men. Liam made that curiosity blossom into love, and from then on, he’d had Tyric’s heart. Tyric closed his eyes, and thought of Liam above him, wrapped in soft linen sheets. He could almost feel their bodies sensuously sliding together over and over again. He’d been so

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in love with Liam then, as they pleasured each other in the dim firelight during those dark winter nights. “I remember,” Tyric murmured, and felt one of Liam’s slender hands undoing his riding leathers. “You felt so good.” “As did you.” Liam smiled. Tyric growled softly. The Samarian tried to coax him out, but Tyric took Liam and turned his back against the tree. “I loved you,” Tyric whispered. “I regret leaving the way I did. I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps. I wanted to make my own way without relying on the fame of his name. I was foolish to leave you and Karan Dun behind.” “I know. I forgave you a long time ago,” Liam said. “I still love you.” Tyric’s strong, calloused hands work their way under Liam’s soft linen shirt. He caressed the gentle ripples of his muscled flesh. Liam was as smooth and supple as he remembered. His hand drifted down and started to undo Liam’s laces. Tyric knelt in front of Liam. He looked up and there was so much love for him in Liam’s eyes. He swallowed Liam’s hard cock. “Tyric!” Tyric moaned softly. His tongue played along the tip of his lover’s cock as Liam withdrew and thrust again. “Sweet mercy!” Liam moaned softly as he grabbed fistfuls of Tyric’s hair. The captain’s hands roamed Liam’s hips and bare waist; he felt the other man shiver. “Don’t stop!” Tyric gently raked his teeth over Liam as he passed between his lips. “Gods, Tyric! Make me come!”

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Liam’s hands tightened in Tyric’s hair and he shuddered in release. He relaxed, loosened his hold on Tyric and gently stroked his head. Tyric released Liam from his mouth and wiped it with the back of his hand. The Samarian’s salty, sweet taste clung to his lips and tongue, and he savored it as he rose. “Thank you,” Liam murmured, as he kissed Tyric softly on the temple. “We’ll have more time to catch up later,” Tyric said. “I’m glad to see you’re well, despite the times.” He caressed Liam’s cheek one last time. “Come,” Liam said, as he took Tyric’s hand.

***** Magda saw Liam and Tyric come out of the brush together a little bit away from camp. She hadn’t missed them unclasp their hands as they walked back. For a moment, she could only imagine what the two men had been doing.

Gods, If only…if only I could have them, to feel them both surround me and… The thought of Liam and Tyric both loving her at the same time hit her so hard that it took her breath away. Though it warmed Magda to see Tyric and Liam together, she couldn’t help but think of Tyric’s feelings for Sadiah. Jealousy flared in her again and she tried to stuff it down. “Good morning, Magdalena,” Liam said. He gave the princess a soft kiss on the mouth. “To you as well.” Magda smiled softly, and turned to Tyric.

Someone has to step aside. Magda reached up and took Tyric’s face in her hands. She kissed him softly at first and then deeper. Her heart fluttered madly in her chest. She was about to let him go as quickly as

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she had pulled her to him, but she felt a hand -- his hand -- gently hold the back of her head. A tiny gasp escaped Magda as Tyric’s mouth opened to her.

He wouldn’t kiss me like this if he loved Sadiah. He -Her thoughts were swept away by the tender way Tyric caressed and nipped at her lips, when she heard the sound of Liam politely clear his throat. “I’m glad to see the two of you finally getting along,” he said with a smile, “but we have to get moving.” Magda blushed slightly as she broke their kiss and brushed aside long, dark hair behind Tyric’s ear. She smiled, happy that he had returned it, and Tyric gently kissed her on the forehead one last time. “Micar wanted Sadiah as an apprentice.” Tyric said. “Didn’t the Viraga take Karenna shortly after the war started?” “Yes,” Liam said bitterly. “They forced the Avadirs out after much bloody fighting. Twenty men and I are all that remain of the sovereign’s Avadir Guard.” Tyric shook his head in disbelief. “Believe it. The Queen’s pet councilor, Serren, ordered them hunted down and killed by their Viraga. He said it was our fault for letting the assassin escape, but I think it has to do with the sovereign’s death -- he didn’t want us around after.” “Then we’ll go to Karenna,” Magda said as she strapped her quiver on. “He’s probably taken her there.” “It won’t be that easy, Magdalena,” Liam said. “Viraga hunt for you as well. Your mother sent them looking for you, no doubt. We’ve been lucky enough to keep them from getting close to you.” “We’ll have to keep moving, then,” she said. “The longer we stay here, the more time we waste. Micar has his nightmare. Those damned horses are fast, and he’s likely there by now.”

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Tyric marveled at Magdalena. In her time at the camps, she managed to learn about the smallest things, right down to how the Viraga worked in the army. “How do you plan on getting in once we get there?” Tyric asked Magda as she mounted her horse. “There’s an old passage on the north side of the castle near the cliffs. It’s a dangerous climb, but it’ll get us in.” Both men looked at each other and then at the princess. She smiled innocently at them. “I did a lot of things I wasn’t supposed to when I was young,” she said. “Exploring the family catacombs was one.” Tyric smiled slightly at that. “Well,” Liam said, as he un-strapped something that was tightly lashed to the back of his saddle. “If we’re going to ride into the mouth of the Ninth Hell itself, then Tyric will need this.” Liam handed the Captain an ornate black and silver scabbard. Tyric’s eyes widened as he took hold of it. He unsheathed it a little and he felt the familiar arcane power of the slender, elegantly curved inconel blade. The bluish sheen of metal flashed as he reestablished his bond with it. “Liam…” “I kept your father’s kiris -- your kiris -- in hopes that one day I would find you again,” Liam said. Tyric took the other scabbard from the Samarian and strapped it to his side. He couldn’t pretend that he was just a soldier anymore. He was an Avadir Guardian, and it was time he did his duty as one. “Thank you.” “To Karenna!” Magda called out to all the riders as she spurred her horse.

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She led the Avadirs, twenty-two strong now, towards her mother and the Viraga. Her homecoming was going to be a bitter, bloody thing.

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Chapter Twenty

Serren sat at his desk, scribbling out a new proposal to Soresh for more Viraga mercenaries. He and Ceres had the kingdom in their hands, but if it came to light what they had done, they would have to keep it by force. Suddenly, he felt his skin prickle and the hairs on his neck stirred. Serren abruptly dropped his quill. There was something very powerful approaching… He went to the window of his tower apartment and looked for something not apparent to the mundane eye. Serren’s brow furrowed, as he watched Micar ride through the gates on his nightmare. The Viraga had an Erebani on a sickly horse in tow, but he was of little consequence to him. The bundle of small woman that Micar had so possessively wrapped up in his cloak interested him more. Suddenly, he saw a brilliant corona of silver-blue light. The women bled an old aura, marked by several lifetimes. They were all distinct, but those lives all shared one thing in common…

Ahliel! Serren pushed aside every door and servant in his path as he made his way down to the gates of the inner courtyard. This was truly the sign that he’d been told to wait for.

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When Serren reached the courtyard, there were soldiers taking the Erebani from his horse. They tried to take the woman as well. “Leave her!” Serren heard his apprentice snap, and the guards backed away. Micar pulled her from the saddle himself. He never did have a gentle hand with anything, not even the things he valued. “Serren…” Micar pulled Sadiah closer to the front so he could get a better look at her. “This is my new apprentice, Sadiah, and…” Micar gestured to the guards who held the Erebani. “I bring a gift. He knows Caliga. You might be able to pry something out of him for your studies.” “I see.” Drevin’s dark eyes flashed with hate, as Serren bent to his ear. “How serendipitous.” Serren chuckled darkly. “I’ll see you dead by the end of this, Serren!” “Difficult to do when you’re swinging from the gallows, Erebani!” “Don’t hurt him!” Sadiah yelled. Serren looked back at Sadiah, who struggled against Micar. “Take him to the dungeons,” Serren said. “Put a lycian stone in his cell. They’re never as weak as they appear.” At Serren’s nod, the guards took Drevin. “Drevin!” Sadiah yelled as she fought against Micar. “Sadiah! Don’t --” A guard struck Drevin, and he reeled. The daylight around he and the guard started to die as he summoned the darkness of night with the last of his strength. A featureless Erebanilike eidola emerged, and swiftly snapped the neck of the guard.

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Serren snarled as razor-sharp bone suddenly tore out of his forearm and through his robe. Drevin willed the eidola double to charge. Serren met it, cut clean through the dark form and into to Drevin’s shoulder. Drevin lost control of the darkness and the sun burned the eidola away. He fell to his knees with nothing left in him. Serren chuckled and kicked Drevin in his wounded shoulder. Drevin gritted his teeth against the pain. “You’ll only die tired now.” Serren smirked Guards rushed into the courtyard, and he motioned for them to take Drevin. He barely looked over his shoulder at Sadiah while the guards dragged him away. Serren admired the way Sadiah fought against Micar. He raised her chin with a finger. She was beautiful and spirited for a Mirikinn barbarian.

Fool, Serren thought. Micar can sense the power in her, but he can’t see the true nature of it. “Such awful taste in men. To be with any Erebani these days, especially that one, is death.” Serren looked at Micar, and gave him a scathing smile. “You think you can have her as an apprentice, Micar?” he asked as he wrenched Sadiah from Micar’s cold grasp. “You don’t even know what you have here.” “She’s my apprentice! You can’t take her from me!” He tried to grab Sadiah back, but Serren’s glowing hand struck him. His barbed flesh tore across Micar’s face, and Micar let out a strangled cry. He clutched his bloodied face and ruined eye. “Defy me again, and you’ll lose more than your eye.” Serren felt something in his head, and the Prince demanded his attention.

Stop playing with your mercenary dogs, Serren, and bring the woman!

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Of course, my Prince. Your wish is my will. He regarded Micar coldly before he turned his back on him.

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Chapter Twenty-One

Liam drew back the flap to Tyric’s tent and entered with a plate of venison that Magda had sent with him. Tyric lay on his side away from him. He didn’t know if he was asleep, so he quietly set aside the plate of venison, moved some of Tyric’s armor out of the way, and settled in next to him. He caressed the captain’s cheek with the back of his hand. “Tyric?” Liam said softly as he brushed a curtain of dark hair away from his face. “I brought you something to eat. Magda sent it with me.” “Magda? How is the princess doing?” “She is well enough tonight. I think she might enjoy our company but…” The Samarian gently took Tyric’s chin and turned his head slightly towards the brazier’s light. “Are you all right? You don’t look so well.” Tyric took Liam’s hand and gently placed it on his stomach. “It hurts sometimes, like a dull ache,” Tyric said. “I don’t know what happened with Sadiah in the Marches but I think whatever she did tried to heal this.” “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

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Liam undid the ties to Tyric’s shirt and gently pulled it over his head. “Lay back.” “Liam --” “Don’t be so damned stubborn, Tyric. You’re as white as Samarian linen. Now let me

see.” Tyric fell back on his forearms. Liam’s slender fingers barely grazed over the gash and Tyric grabbed his wrist. “That hurts, damn it!” “Ssh…” Liam soothed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt?” Tyric gritted his teeth as he let go of Liam and looked away. “I…didn’t want worry you.” Liam sighed and shook his head. “Humans.” he said as he turned Tyric’s face back to him. “Why do I love you, again?” “Because you’re a fool.” Tyric smiled slightly as he stroked Liam’s hair. Liam stretched up and gently caressed Tyric’s ear with his nose. “Then I’ll gladly be yours. It takes foolishness to love you.” Liam softly pressed his lips to Tyric’s temple. He lingered there for a moment and inhaled the vague scent of campfire and leather that still clung to him. “Truth.” “It’s swollen but not infected,” Liam said as he pulled away and took another look at the wound. “It looks like it opened a few times.” “Hurts like hell right now, though.” Tyric winced. “Seems to get worse with the cold.” “I’ll see what I can do about that.” Liam got up and poked his head out of the tent.

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“Hey!” Liam called into the chilly night. “I need a bowl and some bandages. Captain Tyric’s been injured!” “Yes sir. Right away.” Liam waited by the tent’s opening and a moment later, an Avadir returned with clean linens and a metal bowl. He returned to Tyric’s side and pulled the small brazier closer to them. “We have to keep this clean and bound,” Liam said as clean water coalesced in the air and settled into the bowl at his will. “If it keeps opening, it’ll never heal. It will probably scar…” Liam nestled the bowl in the glowing coals of the brazier, and the water warmed. When it was ready, he took a long piece of linen, dipped it into the bowl, and gently washed Tyric’s wound. Tyric relaxed some as the warmth soothed his abdomen. “How does that feel?” “Better. Much better.” Liam let the warm linen lay on the wound while he prepared the bandages. From the pouch at his belt, he took a tin of balm, opened it, and set it aside. He dried Tyric’s stomach with another cloth. Tyric smelled the familiar blend of sandalwood, bergamot, and lavender underscored by bitter medicinal ledum. “This might hurt,” Liam said as he dipped his fingers into the balm. Tyric’s jaw tightened as Liam dabbed it over the gash; then Liam took the linens and wrapped them around Tyric’s waist. “Sit up so I can tie this off.” Tyric did and his arms came around to bring the Samarian closer. He rested on Liam and closed his eyes. “Lean on me, love.”

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Liam finished tying off the linen and made sure they were tight. He tried to pull away, but Tyric held him. He felt Tyric’s hands slide into his hair. His lips gently caressed the nape of his neck. “I want you, Liam,” he said softly as his hand slipped between Liam’s legs. Liam gasped softly and started to harden at Tyric’s touch. “It’s not a good idea with your wound. You’ll regret it in the morning.” Tyric held him tighter. “I don’t care,” he growled softly. Tyric devoured Liam and nipped at his lips as his tongued pushed its way into his mouth. Liam’s hands gripped at Tyric’s back; Liam could barely breathe. Tyric stole his breath away with every kiss. He pulled Liam down on him as he fell back on his pallet. “I believe you owe me,” Tyric murmured between kisses. Liam smiled against Tyric’s neck and nuzzled his ear. “I do -- for the lovely pleasuring of my cock the day before. But only if you’re sure…” “I’m sure, Liam,” Tyric growled softly. “Now get these pants off me.” Liam chuckled as he slid off Tyric. He knelt between his legs, undid buckles and straps and pulled them off. He took care of his own as well. “So impatient.” Liam pulled off his own linen shirt and pants and grabbed the tin of balm. He took a little in his hands and started to massage Tyric’s hard cock. “Liam,” he moaned as he gently thrust in Liam’s hand. “Come here.” Liam crushed his lips to Tyric’s. He grabbed the captain’s wrists and gently forced them over his head. Liam gasped as he felt Tyric’s slick cock slide against his. “You don’t get to do the work.” Liam smiled as his grip tightened on Tyric’s wrists. “No?”

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Suddenly, Tyric rolled them and Liam found himself pinned. He looked up at Tyric and the captain gently stroked his cheek. “I beg to differ, my dear Samarian.” There was no use arguing with Tyric; Liam knew it. He reached up and brushed dark hair behind Tyric’s ear. “Should we send for Magda?” Liam whispered. “I’ve missed you so much. I need you, but she needs us.” Tyric bent to kiss him and the Samarian moaned softly. He took hold of Liam’s cock and gently started to stroke it. “I want Magda with us.” Tyric smiled slightly “But I think I want to have you to myself a little first.”

***** Magda pulled the dark cloak around her against the chilly wind as she made her rounds amongst the Avadirs; some were Asduran humans, a few were Samarian. It was one of Liam’s spares -- it even smelled like him. The scent of sandalwood clung to it, and it warmed her. It reminded her of when they made love a few days ago.

I love you just as much as I love Tyric, Magda. Never doubt that, no matter what happens. “I know,” Magda murmured to herself. “I know you do.” There was a muffled moan somewhere in the darkness, and Magda stopped. She looked around and saw men at the fires. Some were joking and drinking, others were gaming with bone dice. For all their jabber, they hadn’t heard and she didn’t see anyone who made such a noise. Magda shook her head. It must be her overtired imagination, but she heard it again, barely this time. Her eyes narrowed. She moved in the direction of the sound, and quietly

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drew one of her knives. Magda made her way from the center of camp; torch and firelight didn’t reach the edges where she prowled. Magda followed soft moans and gasps to the outer ring of tents amongst the trees. There was only one tent lit in the back as she moved through the trees. She could make out entwined silhouettes that moved in time with each other. Those voices were familiar. Magda sheathed her knife and crept closer. The shadows on the tent’s wall flickered and danced as she came around. The tent flap fluttered in the wind and her breath caught. Magda saw flashes of strong hands caressing soft, muscular skin. “Tyric. If you keep doing that, you’ll make me come!” “That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, now, would it?”

Liam and Tyric…they’re making love? The wind blew aside the tent flap, and part of it caught on the frame. Magda saw Tyric above Liam. He kissed the Samarian elf deeply while his hips gently rocked against him. “Gods in heaven,” Magda murmured. She barely made out the way both men’s cocks slid together while they pleasured each other. Magda stood there, transfixed in the cold darkness. The two men she loved were loving each other and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Liam was so beautiful as he arched in ecstasy against Tyric over and over. Tyric was so strong and sensual, yet so gentle the way he held his lover. She couldn’t hear much of the tender whispers that passed between them, but she could hear their moans and cries. A warm tingle spread through Magda the more she watched. Her nipples started to harden, and she gasped quietly.

Dear gods, I want to be there, I want to be with them! “Tyric,” she barely moaned. “Liam…”

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She bit her lip against another gasp that rose to her lips. Magda moved forward like a moth drawn to two beautiful flames. With every step, gasps and moans of pleasure grew louder. She stood just outside their tent. Her heart thundered in her chest and she swallowed hard.

I love them both. I should go… Magda let out a quiet, breathy sigh. She took a deep breath and quietly slipped past the tent’s flap that fluttered in the cold breeze. It fell behind her and for a moment her presence went unnoticed. Magda watched as Liam arched against Tyric, and he gently kissed the side of his neck. “Magda is watching us.” Liam’s soft voice shook Magda out of her heated gaze. A swift blush rose to her cheeks, and her mouth worked but no words came. Magda’s eyes darted to Tyric. He looked up at her from the pallet with Liam so delectably pinned beneath him. She swallowed hard and wondered if it wise to have come here after all. She went to back away when Tyric rose up and gently grabbed her wrist. “I’m sorry I --” She felt herself gently pulled down to her knees as Liam and Tyric shifted around on the pallet of soft furs. The woolen blanket fell away as she was pulled between them. Magda felt Liam settle in behind her, take her cloak from her shoulders, and toss it aside. She shivered as his deft fingers teasingly drew up her sides as he pulled her shirt over her head. “Stay, Magda,” Tyric said softly, as his arms came around her. “Stay with us tonight.” Liam’s breath came in soft puffs against her neck as he hugged her a little tighter. Magda raised her hand to stroke Liam’s cheek; he gently kissed the back of it. “Magdalena,” Tyric murmured. The handsome captain had her attention again, and she looked up at him.

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“Sweet, beautiful Magdalena. We were going to send for you, but we became a little distracted.” “Send for me?” “We thought you might like our company this evening,” Liam said as he caressed her back. “But it was fortunate that you just…passed by.” Tyric dipped down to kiss her neck. He worked his way down to her breasts and Magda shuddered as he took a nipple into her mouth. She felt Liam’s hands slip around to caress her inner thighs. “So,” Tyric said quietly. “Do you like to watch Liam and me together?” “I --” Magda felt Liam’s slender fingers caress her wet, sensitive lips. She cried out as he slipped a finger inside. “Does it arouse you?” Liam echoed Tyric’s question. “When we kiss? When we touch?” “Yes -- you’re so beautiful together!” Magda whimpered as Liam withdrew his fingers. “It is beautiful to watch the ones you love giving and receiving pleasure.” “Do you want us, Magda?” Tyric asked. “Yes.” Magda straddled Tyric and reached down to caress his handsome face with a shaky hand. “I’ve loved and wanted you for so long,” Magda whispered. “I always tried to catch your eye, to show you how I felt even when words failed.” She felt Liam’s hands gently push her down toward Tyric, and he settled in behind her. Magda gasped softly and grasped the fur of the pallet at either side of Tyric’s head. Liam’s hard cock gently teased her wet lips, making it hard for her to concentrate.

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“I know it,” Tyric said. “I regret not --” Magda silenced Tyric with a kiss. Her tongue sought his as Tyric wound his hand in her hair. Behind her, Liam trailed kisses up her spine and she moaned into Tyric’s mouth. She reached down between her legs and felt the hard cocks of both men. She gathered them into her hand and gently started to stroke them together. Both men cried out at her touch and the way she stroked them together. “I want us all to be together as one.” The tent was suffused with the heady scent of sex, Liam’s sandalwood, and Tyric’s musk. Magda was sure she couldn’t stand much more. Everything she ever wanted, that she needed, was here in their arms. “Are you sure this is what you want, Magdalena?” Liam said softly Magda’s hand left them, and she slowly sank onto Tyric’s cock. “Dear gods, woman -- you feel so good!” For a few moments, Magda enjoyed the feel of Tyric inside her. She rested on his chest and savored the warmth and strength of his body against hers. Then, she suddenly felt Liam behind her, his slick cock poised and ready to enter. “Liam,” she uttered, surprised. “What are you --” “I’ll be gentle, love. If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.” “It’s okay,” Tyric said softly, as he stroked her curtain of long hair aside. “Try to relax. It may hurt, but I promise you, it will be enjoyable.” Magda moaned and her eyes fluttered closed as the Samarian pushed slowly, gently inside her little by little. “Feels so good to have you both…” She felt Tyric start to match Liam’s pushes. Soon, her lovers found a gentle pace and Magda was lost in a sea of sensuous push and pull.

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“Liam, Tyric!” she cried out. Magda’s hips worked with their rhythm through intense familiar and new sensations. She was deliciously pinned between her men, the warmth of their bodies keeping the cold, chilly night from touching her. As her pleasure mounted, her cries of passion mingled with Liam and Tyric’s as they moved faster and little harder now. A familiar warm tingle pooled low as she felt Liam lace his hands in hers from above and press them into the furs. “Sweet Magdalena!” Liam whispered in her ear. “Magda!” Tyric cried out. “Love you, need you so much…” Magda gasped, unable to find her own words as tears coursed down her cheek. She squeezed Liam’s hands. She could barely breathe now, and suddenly a harsh cry bubbled up from deep within her as she finally gave in to the intense orgasm. She felt them shudder as they each gave a final thrust and filled her once more before they came. Their gasps and moans died down to pants as Magda collapsed, exhausted, onto Tyric’s chest. She buried her face in his neck, her tears still fresh. “I love you too…both of you,” she murmured. Magda quivered in Tyric’s arms. He kissed her on the temple, and she sighed softly as Liam gently withdrew. She turned her head and Liam was there, stroking her hair. With a free hand, Tyric pulled Liam to him and kissed him gently. She marveled at how she felt the way his lips lingered on Liam’s, and the contentment they both had after making love. A strange, warm sensation suddenly poured into her from both of them. She felt the unspoken love and devotion of both men wash over her mind and ripple through her. Liam pulled up the woolen blanket over the three of them. He settled in next to Tyric and Magda on his side and rested his head on Tyric’s shoulder.

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Magda slipped off of Tyric and nestled herself between them. She drifted off to sleep in Liam and Tyric’s arms, awash in peace and love that she hadn’t felt since she had left Karenna so long ago.

***** Magda woke, wrapped in the warmth of winter furs. Neither Tyric nor Liam were there, but her clothes had been neatly set aside for her and her bow and quiver had been brought to her as well. There was a bit of bread and hard cheese there for her to break her fast with, and she smiled at their thoughtfulness. She dressed as she ate some of the cheese and wondered if they had gone out to see to the other Avadirs.

I’d much rather have Tyric and Liam with me, she thought as she reached for her cloak. I would’ve liked to have woken up with them. Men have their duties, I suppose. A slight smile rose to her lips as she thought of how they had made love last night. Every touch, every kiss was still fresh in her mind, and the thought of both penetrating her again sent a shiver of delight down her spine.

I felt something like a…bond forming between the three of us. Do Liam and Tyric know about this? Did they feel -“Viraga!” someone yelled. Magda darted out of the tent, strapped her quiver on, and grabbed a nearby horse’s reins. She didn’t see Liam or Tyric as she mounted. There was a terrible crack as dark lightning hit the ground, and Magda’s horse panicked. She struggled to get him under control as she turned amid the Avadirs who rushed past to meet them. “Steady!” she snapped as she drew an arrow from her quiver.

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The horse still pawed at the ground, shaky with fear. Magda drew in a breath as she took aim at a tall, gaunt man wearing black and red robes. She let her arrow loose and it glanced off of him, just like it had with Micar. “Damn it!” she hissed. The gaunt Viraga turned on the back of his black nightmare that exhaled flame and acrid smoke, and pointed at Magda. “There! They hide her in the ranks!” he barked. “Retrieve the princess -- kill the rest!”

Not now! she thought frantically. She finally got her stubborn horse to move in the direction she wanted. We’re nearly

there! Magda could see the city walls from where they were, when a Viraga darted out in front of her. Her horse reared up at the deathly presence. She was thrown from her saddle, and another Viraga nearly trampled her as he boxed her in. She looked up, terrified as she clutched her shoulder. She frantically looked for some way to get around the cloven hooves of the nightmare that threatened to trample her.

I have nowhere to go! “You’ll come with us, princess,” one sneered as he reached for her. “Surrender and we’ll spare you any further pain.” “I’ll send you to the Ninth Hell, first!” Despite her shoulder’s pain, Magda tried to reach for a knife when she saw a flash of unearthly blue. The Viraga screamed and the hand that reached for her was gone. The mage’s head followed with one smooth stroke. His body fell from his horse in front of her. Tyric was there, one sword drawn, and he made an opening for Magda to escape. Magda rolled away and looked over her shoulder to see Tyric clash swords with the Viraga. Sparks flew as inconel blades rasped against each other. The captain forced the mage

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back until he swept aside his blade with one sword and sliced through his side with the other. The mage fell, and Tyric sheathed his sword. He rode to Magda and pulled her up onto the back of his horse.

Thank the gods for you, Tyric! She leaned against Tyric’s back and held on to him as best she could. “My shoulder…” “We’ll see to it soon,” he said. “I promise you.” He spied Liam on the edges of the fray. The Samarian had finished cutting down another Viraga. “Liam!” He turned to see Tyric and Magda as they rode up. “Magda’s hurt,” Tyric shouted. “We have to get her out!” “You go! I’ll rally the men and keep the mages from following. Get her to the passage!” Magda forced herself to look up at the Samarian. “Liam?” “I’ll be fine, love,” Liam said. “Get out of here -- I’ll see you both when I can!” He turned away before Tyric or Magda could say anything, and rode back into the chaos. Reluctantly, Tyric reined his horse around and spurred him as fast as he could go.

***** Every time hooves hit the ground was agony for Magda, and Tyric knew it. He couldn’t stop until he was certain that they’d be safe. “Just a little further,” he tried to assure her.

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Tyric felt her grasp at his waist a little tighter. He saw the rocky outcropping that she’d described before. If something wasn’t done about Magda’s shoulder there was no way she was going to be able to climb down those rocks. Tyric slowed up near some large stones and carefully dismounted. He tried not to jostle Magda too much. Tears streamed down her face as she gritted her teeth against the pain and tried not to cry out. “Come on,” he said above the waves crashing on the rocks below. “I’ve got you.” Magda half slid out of the saddle and Tyric caught her. “Easy. I’ve got you,” he said. “Your shoulder’s out of place. I can fix it.” “Don’t touch it! Just --” “What are you?” he said as he took hold of her arm. “A soft camp follower?” “You should have more respect!” Magda snapped. His distraction was working perfectly… “Those women weren’t just evening stars and chore girls! They helped run that camp! They did the cleaning, mending, cooking, and caring for you ungrateful sons of --” The captain suddenly pulled her arm. Magda screamed as her shoulder slid back into place with a sickening crunch. Tyric held aside her strawberry-blonde hair as she pitched forward and dry heaved from the pain. “You’re okay,” Tyric said as he stroked her hair. “You can move your arm now.” “Sweet Goddess,” Magda mumbled, as she looked back up at him. “You’re okay.” “That…hurt, and what you said about the camp followers --” “ -- was just a distraction.” Magda pushed away from him, walked over to the horse, and gave it good smack to send it off.

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“Would you be saying that if I weren’t a princess?” she asked. “I --” “You only cared about Sadiah! The rest of us could’ve mattered less.” Tyric’s concern for the princess turned to irritation. “I could’ve left you to Micar that evening outside my tent,” he muttered. “I didn’t even know you were the sovereign’s daughter then, and I still defended you! If I had thought you mattered less, I would’ve let him do as he pleased.” Magda scowled and turned away from him, but Tyric grabbed her wrist. “It is true that I wasn’t very…kind most times,” Tyric said, “but in case you haven’t realized, Magda, war does not make for happy men.” His stormy blue eyes bore down on her. “Just because I didn’t find the majority of those women to my liking doesn’t mean I thought they were lesser people!” “You always compared us to her! None of us were ever good enough to stand in Sadiah’s place.” “You’re jealous!” Tyric growled as he pulled her even closer to him and held her firmly in his grasp. “You’re her friend and jealously doesn’t become you.” Tyric sighed heavily and let her go. He started towards the rocky outcropping that reached for the sea. He was climbing down with or without her. Magda stood there, redfaced, before she hurried to the stony ledges. Tyric’s head disappeared behind the rocks. “Not that way!” she called as she started down. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

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Chapter Twenty-Two

Leather bound her wrists as Sadiah squirmed while being hauled up by a chain. “Let go of me!” She kicked and struggled. Something grabbed her and bound her feet and legs up to her knees. She couldn’t see through the coarse blindfold. “Don’t touch me, damn you! Don’t!” The hands left her and she felt the blindfold being loosened. It slid off and Serren stood in front of her. Behind him was a deathly pale woman in patchwork black leather. Her blood-red hair was piled wildly atop her head, and her eyes… Her colorless eyes were the most soulless things. Sadiah cringed when the woman gave her a tainted smile. “The Fallen is the least of your worries,” Serren said as he took a step forward. “Sadiah, was it?” He tipped up her chin and Sadiah jerked her head away. “Micar has taste in apprentices, but he was too ignorant to know who you really are.” Serren stepped closer to her.

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“My Prince has waited a very long time for this, dear Ahliel.” Serren motioned to the Fallen, and she settled in behind Sadiah. There was a hideous rasp of something uncoiling. Sadiah froze, helpless, as she swung on the chain. “You are the reincarnation of the goddess Ahliel,” Serren said. “To be certain you are who my Prince seeks, you must remember yourself. Pain, the Prince tells me, is an excellent reminder of how you betrayed him.” “Are you mad!?” Sadiah screamed. “I’ve done nothing to you!” “Mad? No. I simply crave the power my Prince promises.” Serren nodded to the Fallen. A wicked snap broke the air and Sadiah screamed in pain. The whip was so cold it burned as it drew the life from her. “Remember who you are,” Serren growled. “Remember the pain you caused my Prince, the pain so great that he condemned you to live mortal lives!” Tears ran down Sadiah’s cheeks. She tried to catch her breath against the searing pain. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” The Fallen’s whip cracked again. Serren took hold of Sadiah’ face. Her cheeks were wet with tears. “Denial. Have you lost so much of yourself to mortality that you don’t remember? Or do you hide yourself so deeply away from your curse?” “You’re mad!” Sadiah sobbed. “Let me go!” Faces swam before Sadiah. She couldn’t recall their names, and she dimly knew that she’d never seen them before, but she knew them. Six different women with amber eyes stared back at her, but the most beautiful one with pale blue hair reached out to her. Sadiah gasped -- she looked liked the little carving of Ahliel in her pouch.

All our lives are yours, her eyes said. You are Ahliel, you are us.

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Lifetime upon lifetime pressed in on her. A whirlwind of mortality consumed her mind and whispered to her of the Prince, Diras, who had cursed her to live seven mortal lives. “He’ll never have me!” “You’ve fallen six times, Ahliel,” he said. “and each time you’ve come back weaker. My Prince will take the last of your divinity and you will only be a memory. When that dies, you’ll truly be dead.” A smooth, cool hand stroked Sadiah’s cheek. “You’re too weak,” Serren whispered. “I can’t have you risk yourself before the Prince can enact his rite. It was troublesome to start a war just to draw you out.” Serren swept a hand over Sadiah’s face and her body went limp. “You’ve fulfilled our master’s compact, Serren,” The Fallen said. “The council will be…dissolved as you wish.” “The Queen is not to be harmed, nor the princess.” “Of course not. You must have your puppets on the throne.” Serren scowled at that, but said nothing. “Your time is at hand, Serren.” The Fallen grinned wickedly as she faded away. “The Prince will send you aid as well.”

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Chapter Twenty-Three

“Here!” Magda yelled over the roar of the ocean. “It’s here!” Tyric saw her wave him up. He reached for the next shallow handhold and pulled himself up. Tyric slowly moved along the rocks towards Magda as cold winds whipped around them. “There!” Magda pointed up to the dark entrance of a small cave above them. “I’ll go first!” Tyric yelled back, as he started to move up. There was no telling what might be at the mouth of that cave. He pulled himself up on the wet rocks. There was a faint glow out of the cave but he didn’t see or hear anything. He turned back to Magda, who still struggled on the rocks. “Give me your hand!” Tyric called out to her. Magda reached up; he caught her hand and helped her up the rest of the way. Her breath came hard and she shook. “This leads into the catacombs,” Magda said as she led Tyric into the cave. The captain stooped, and he saw the glow was from lichens growing on the stone.

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“I haven’t been down this pass since I was a kid.” There was silence for a moment, as Magda led Tyric down the cavernous halls that led to the catacombs. “My father’s buried here.” “I’m sorry,” Tyric said as he took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I just want to find who’s responsible. I want to know why.” She could barely see by the glow the lichen gave off as she brushed spider webs away from her path. “I don’t know why anyone would kill my father. His reign was peaceful; we had decent diplomatic ties with other kingdoms. This was a very prosperous time…” “Yes,” Tyric said. “Which makes it even more puzzling.” Magda’s brow furrowed. She didn’t want to entertain the idea that it could’ve been someone close to her father, someone that they trusted. She pushed the thought away as she pushed through more thick spider webs and pressed deeper into the caverns. For a while, Tyric and Magda quietly made their way through the winding, rocky caves. Magda tried to shift her quiver so it was more comfortable, but she winced every time. She tried to ignore it. “We need to stop and eat,” Tyric said. “How is your shoulder?” “It hurts, but I think I’ll live,” Magda said as she sat on a smooth shelf of rock. Tyric sat next to her and gently removed her quiver. He set it aside and offered her a piece of hard tack. “I’m not hungry.” “You need to eat something, Magda. We had a hard climb, and you need to rest your arm.”

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Magda looked up at Tyric from beneath her hood. His dark blue eyes where full of concern. “It isn’t my favorite either, but it’s all we have.” Magda nodded and nibbled on the flavorless biscuit while she watched Tyric idly check his swords. His handsome face was dimly lit by the faint glow of inconel. It gave his skin an unearthly cast of light blue that reminded her of the beautiful, long extinct Varishas from her history books. When Magda finished, she wrapped her cloak around herself against the cave’s damp chill. There was silence except for slow drips of water and the slide of Tyric’s sword as he partially sheathed it. He left some of the blade exposed for a little light and kept it within his reach. She tried to keep her teeth from chattering and squeaked when Tyric gently grabbed her and pulled her to him. He opened his cloak and embraced her with strong arms and heavy wool. “Tyric!” “You’re cold, Magda. Let me warm you,” Tyric said as he held her a little tighter. “Liam would be upset if I let anything happen to you.” Magda’s nose skimmed up to his ear and she lingered there. Her lips trembled against Tyric’s neck as she nestled closer to him. “I’m worried for Liam.” “Liam will come,” Tyric said, as he kissed the top of her head. “There were so few Avadirs when we left him…” Magda didn’t want to think of their Liam lying dead in the middle of some field. She sighed heavily and huddled closer to Tyric. “We should’ve never left him like that. We should’ve --” “You were hurt and Liam wanted you to be safe. He knew what he was doing, what the risk was. It’ll be okay. Liam will be okay.”

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Magda nodded and slid her cold hands into his sable hair. Tyric’s hands found their way under her linen shirt when she placed another gentle kiss on his mouth. “I need you,” Magda breathed in his ear as she undid the laces to his leathers. “Please…” Tyric gently tugged down her pants. She shimmied out of them and thrust herself onto his hard cock. She whimpered softly into his neck as she rocked her hips against him in time with his gentle strokes. Tyric buried his face in Magda’s hair, and she felt him nuzzle her neck. “It’ll be all right” he murmured against her neck. “Tyric!” Magda cried out when she came, and Tyric shuddered. She pulsed around him and sucked him deeper inside, as deep as he could go. Tyric half gasped, half mouthed something softly against Magda’s lips as he came. For long moments, Magda remained astride him, and rested against his chest. “Don’t worry, amaia,” Tyric said softly as he stroked her hair. “I’m with you, and Liam will be with us again soon.” Magda nodded and wiped tears away from the corner of her eyes. “We can’t stay here,” she murmured against his chest as she reached up to caress Tyric’s cheek. “We have to keep moving.” “We can rest for a little longer, I think,” Tyric said as he moved aside some of her hair and kissed her neck. She nodded as Tyric held her and prayed that their lover was safe.

*****

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Magda pushed ahead and led the way through the cold, damp caves. Occasionally, she stopped to get her bearings. Tyric could barely see the markings she left in the lichen’s glow so long ago. Magda suddenly stopped and he nearly ran into her. “What is it?” Tyric asked. “I see something -- a light!” “Find the princess!” they heard a voice call out. “Quickly!” “They got through,” she whispered, scared. “Liam…” There was a faint sound behind her, as Tyric unsheathed a sword. “What do you see, Tyric?” “Lanterns. There’s a man and --” “ -- There!” someone shouted, “Near the arch!” “How could they --” Magda looked down. They must’ve seen the glowing inconel of Tyric’s sword. The captain readied himself as they heard men rush to where they were. “Stay behind me, Magda!” Tyric stepped out as soldiers surrounded them. He eyed them, but none drew their swords. Tyric was on his guard as a figure hobbled into the dim circle. The man leaned on his staff and an old hand pulled back a dark grey hood. “Magdalena?” the old man asked, and wheezed some. “Is that you, child?” Magda darted out from behind Tyric. “Master Ahbrin!” The princess threw her arms around the old man, and he braced himself with his staff.

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“Thank the gods that you’re safe, child,” Ahbrin said. “I knew you would come back this way. A rider from the remaining Avadirs said that you met with Viraga and escaped unharmed.” “Mostly,” Tyric said Ahbrin turned to Tyric, and nodded as the other man sheathed his sword. “I have you to thank for her safety, then?” “In part.” “This is Tyric, Master.” Magda said. “He is a captain in the army camped at Ghent near the mountains.” “Turned Avadir, I see. He carries Balas’s blades.” “He’s a good man,” Magda said. “We can trust him.” “I would expect no less from a son of Balas, Magdalena,” he said. “Now he must take you out of this place! It is not safe for you, child. All the councilmen have been slain, and I’ve only managed to keep my head by hiding in forgotten passages.”

“Slain?” Magda whispered. She looked at Tyric. How were they going to get Sadiah and Jhael’s father out of here if Asdurah crawled with assassins? “We can’t leave,” Tyric said. “You must!” Ahbrin insisted. “The princess is the only hope for Asdurah’s future!” “Master Ahbrin,” Magda said. “Tyric’s right. We can’t. We came here for a friend, a woman called Sadiah. She was taken by a Viraga and likely brought here.” The old man was thoughtful for a moment. “Yes,” he said, “I remember hearing of a Viraga who came with a barbarian woman.” “What of an Erebani elf?” Tyric asked. “Did you hear of an Erebani?” Master Ahbrin shook his head.

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“No, but if there was, he was likely taken to the dungeons.” “Maybe he heard where they took Sadiah before he was taken,” Magda said. “We should get to him first.” Tyric nodded. If it brought them closer to finding Sadiah and getting her out of here, so be it. Master Ahbrin motioned for them and the small group of soldiers to follow. Ahbrin sighed as they passed amongst the marble tombs of Magda’s ancestors and started up the narrow stairs. “I hoped you wouldn’t come back so soon,” Master Ahbrin said. “I tried to spare you any more pain when Liam’s men took you from the tower. I fear your being here will bring things to a head faster than I would have liked. Your mother didn’t put you in that tower for your protection, Magdalena. She put you there because she didn’t want you to know the truth.” “The truth about what?” Master Ahbrin stopped and looked at the princess over a hunched shoulder. “The truth about your father’s death.”

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Chapter Twenty-Four

The Queen Regent hated dungeons. This was Serren’s place, not hers, and her pretty face frowned at coming down here. The darkness pressed in around her. Prisoners leered through the bars of the filthy cells, and she hurried by. Ahead of her, Ceres saw the intense shine of the lycian stone emanating from a cell near the end. The two guards who escorted Ceres fell in on either side of her as she opened the door. Drevin raised his head. He squinted against the stone that burned away all the darkness and shadow. His crimson eyes narrowed as the Queen Regent stepped in. “Ah,” Ceres purred. “Serendipitous, indeed. Who would’ve thought you’d find your way into our hands again?” Ceres admired the Erebani chained to the wall. It was a shame that she was going to put such a handsome elven man to death. She glanced up at the stone in the lantern that hung from the ceiling. “How does it feel to be just a man, Erebani?” She smirked. “You’ve come to gloat, Ceres? Get it over with and get the hell out!” “Such fire,” Ceres murmured, as she touched Drevin’s cheek.

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He jerked his head away from her hand. “What would your daughter think?” The Queen Regent’s face twisted with rage. The sharp crack of her hand on Drevin’s cheek pierced the gloomy silence of the cell. He winced, and there was a thin trickle of black blood where her ring scraped him. “Those will be the last words you ever speak. Before you swing, I’ll have your tongue!” Ceres took an ominous step towards Drevin. “That barbarian woman you came with? I hope you weren’t too attached to her.” Drevin lunged at Ceres, but he was wrenched back by his chains. “Save your strength for the gallows.” Ceres smiled wickedly. “You don’t want to die tired, do you?”

***** The old man pressed an ancient stone with some sort of barely legible glyph carved on it. The small bit of wall before them wavered, and they passed through it like ghosts to the other side. “Tyric,” Magda said as she turned to him. “Take some men and try and find where Sadiah is.” Tyric’s brow furrowed. “We shouldn’t separate. We get the Erebani, and look for Sadiah together. I don’t want you alone with a few guards and an old man.” Magda nodded, and looked over the small group of guards. “You three,” she said, and pointed to some of the guards. “See if you can find a Mirikinn woman called Sadiah. A Viraga had her last, so go with care.” “Yes, Princess.” They went back through the wall, and the other two guards stayed.

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Magda quietly started down the narrow passage that she hadn’t known existed. She tried not to be unnerved at the malicious eyes that watched from their cells. She saw the glow of the stone at the end of the narrow hall, but it was partially obscured by a dark figure. “…then again, I suppose it doesn’t matter. As long as the people get their villain the mob will be satisfied --” “That,” Magda murmured as she watched the figure, “is my mother.” “ -- and they’ll be none the wiser.” Magda’s brow furrowed as she ran towards the Queen. “Magdalena!” Master Ahbrin begged, “You mustn’t!” Ceres turned away from Drevin and was speechless to see her daughter. She was dressed like a vulgar, common peasant. “They’ll be none the wiser about what, Mother?” “Ledah,” Ceres uttered softly. “My daughter you’re…alive!” Tyric and a soldier joined Magda, and she peered into the cell. She saw the same Erebani that was with Sadiah in the Marches. Drevin looked back at her and his anger turned to quiet shock. “Mother” Magda said. “What have you done?” “Ledah…this is a delicate matter and I --” “I know you,” Drevin said sadly. “You were a little younger then, but I know you. I passed you in the halls, on the day I took your father’s life.” “You did what?” Magda said, as she stared at Drevin. “You…did you just say that you murdered my father?” “I did, but not by choice.” “That’s enough!” Ceres snapped as she went to grab Magda, but Tyric pushed between them, sword drawn.

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The Queen’s guards moved towards Tyric. He shook his head as he flashed his Avadir’s blade. They eased off, but remained no less wary. “Ask your mother, Princess,” Drevin continued, “ask her about how she and Serren came to me about killing your father. When I refused, they took my Talya and tortured her until I did what they wanted.” “That’s enough!” Ceres shrieked Drevin’s head dropped, and long-buried tears started to fall. “They killed my beloved, and mother to my son!” Magda looked back at her mother. Hate, sorrow, and disbelief all warred within her, and she was speechless. “It’s true,” Master Ahbrin said, as he hobbled out of the shadows. “I discovered poor Talya down here. I held her in my arms and she told me with her last breaths that Serren and Ceres were going to make her Drevin kill the sovereign. She knew she wasn’t going to live. She begged me to stop him, but it was too late.” “I searched all this time for something, anything that would prove her words. Now I see, in front of these witnesses, that the Queen’s reaction is more than enough. She kept you locked in the tower, Magda, so you wouldn’t come to know the hand she played in your father’s death.” “How could you?” Magda whispered, “How could you kill my father!” “Ledah, I --” “How could you do this to an innocent man? How could you take someone so dear from him just to make him kill my father?” Magda sharply waved the guards towards the Queen Regent. “Take her,” she said, as she tried to hold back her tears. “Take her and put her in a cell. The new ruling council will decide her fate.” “You ungrateful little bitch,” the Queen hissed. “you don’t know what you’re doing!”

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“Get her out of here!” Ceres struggled against a guard while the Queen’s guards looked on, dumbfounded.

“Move!” Magda snapped. They jumped and helped to secure Ceres. “You could’ve inherited a better, stronger kingdom!” she screamed as they hauled her away. “Now you’ll only have ashes, Ledah! Ashes!” Magda heard her mother’s screams turn to dark laughter. The princess buried her face in her hands as tears came. Tyric sheathed his kiris, and Magda felt his arms come around her. He held her while Master Ahbrin took the keys to the manacles and went to unlock Drevin. The Erebani looked away from the old man, unable to meet his eyes. “You tried to protect your family the only way you knew,” Master Ahbrin said. “How could you know that they wouldn’t try for your son next? I tried to stop you like Talya wanted, but I failed and for that, I’m sorry.” “By all rights, I should’ve taken my own life for what I’d done,” Drevin murmured, ashamed. “But you didn’t,” Magda said as she looked up from Tyric, “for your son.” Drevin only nodded as he got up from the filthy floor of his cell. “I gave up everything, even the ties to my noble house, and chose exile for his sake. I broke my vows to them and to Eilon himself, when I had committed such a dishonorable act.” Drevin took a step towards Magda. His sorrow and guilt weighed on him like a stone. “I’ve caused you so much pain, Princess, and this war… Every day I ask Eilon’s mercy for what I’ve done and that you might forgive me, if you ever came to know what truly happened.” “I --”

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The lantern that held the lycian stone shattered into copper sparks. Magda yelped and Drevin shielded Master Ahbrin from the falling shards. “What the hell was that?” Tyric muttered. Magda took a tentative step towards the cell door. “Master Ahbrin? Drevin?” “Princess!” Drevin yelled at her. “Stay back!” Tyric pulled her back as hulking arms formed from the blackness of night, punched through the walls of the cell. They grabbed Drevin’s torso and arms. He fought and tried to gain control over the darkness that grappled with him, but it was too strong. Tyric pushed past Magda. He grabbed the old man as he sliced through the darkness. He cut clean through, but it grew back, stronger than ever. More arms and hands formed, covering him faster and faster. “Find Sadiah!” Drevin yelled as more writhing arms and hands of eidola grabbed hold of him. “Find her!” The dark arms and hand swallowed Drevin and he was gone… “Merciful gods,” Master Ahbrin muttered. “That’s…Caliga. Erebani are in the castle!” “What…what took him?” “I don’t know, Magda. It looked like many eidola.” “Erebani or no,” Tyric said as he got Ahbrin to his feet, “we’re getting Sadiah and getting the hell out of here before it comes back.” Magda followed Tyric and Master Ahbrin out. Her mother and Serren were at the root of all this suffering.

Lady, Magda prayed as they hurried out of the dungeon, Let us find Sadiah. Help us set things right.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

Sadiah’s eyes drifted open. She was hardly aware of her body or where she was. Something was unwinding down her legs… “Who --” “Quiet!” Cold fingers worked at the leather then she fell. “Drink this” Bitter fire washed over her tongue and down her throat. Sadiah coughed and more bitterness was forced on her. “The whip had inconel woven into it,” the voice said. “This will help.” That voice was familiar. Her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she saw him above her. “Micar!” Sadiah struggled as he pulled her up to her feet. “We haven’t much time.” He drew one of his Soreshan cinquedeas, and Sadiah backed away. “What are you doing?”

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“What does it look like? I’m turning you loose.” Micar held the very long dagger out to her, pommel first. “Take it!” Sadiah snatched it away. It was much larger than she was used to, but it would do. “Stay close,” Micar said. “The castle is in chaos.” “What about Drevin? I can’t leave him!” “Save yourself, Sadiah,” he said. “The Erebani has been taken to the gallows by now.” “I don’t believe you!” “Believe it. Now we have to go before --” “Micar…” a feminine voice rasped. Micar turned to see a Fallen slip out the shadows of the chamber. Her inhuman, black eyes glared at them as she stalked Micar and Sadiah. “If I can’t have her,” Micar snarled, “no one can!” “Fool! My master will have Ahliel and the last of her power. He will be revived!” Micar gave her a wicked smile. His ruined eye made him look even more sinister in the torch light. “I’ll enjoy watching her cast you into the Ninth Hell herself.” The Fallen snarled something inhuman, as her sharp claws lanced out at him. He tried to cut them down but they were too fast. He screamed as they pierced his wrist. Micar’s cinquedea clattered to the ground and the Fallen’s other hand of claws drove into his gut. Sadiah slashed at the Fallen. The inconel blade sang with power and sliced through the long claws in Micar’s gut. The Fallen shrieked and tried to reform them, but couldn’t. “Damned witch!” the Fallen hissed.

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She pulled her other claws out of Micar’s wrist and he fell to the floor. The Fallen lashed out at Sadiah, driving them through her shoulder. She fell to her knees and blood poured down her chest. Micar saw Sadiah try to force herself up.

“Sadiah!” Sadiah lunged forward and the claws pushed through her shoulder. Inconel pierced armor and bone. There was a strangled scream and her hands were wet and slick. Metal rasped against dark armor as it slid out of the Fallen’s flesh. She stumbled back slid down the wall. “I told you to run,” Micar said, as he spat up blood. “Easy, now. I’ll have you healed and --” He shook his head weakly. “ -- I wasn’t strong enough to keep what I took. All I wanted was someone to…” Micar sagged. His life ran out of him and spilled onto the stone floor. “Micar…” Sadiah whispered “My Prince will take you, mark me!” The Fallen said, as she twitched and slipped on her own blood when she tried to get up. “I am Ahliel, I am the Healer and the Protector,” Sadiah said as she got up from Micar, “and I have remembered myself. He won’t have me!” Ahliel sauntered over to the Fallen and raised the cinquedea. With a swift hand, she cut the Fallen’s head from her shoulders. She disappeared through the double doors with Micar’s sword as her shoulder started to heal itself. The Fallen’s head rolled across the stone floor and her body turned to dust.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

It was chaos. Liam tried to make his way through panicked servants. The Viraga mercenaries who had tried to take Magda wiped out most of the Avadirs -- he’d been lucky to escape with a few scrapes. He pushed his way through the narrow walkway choked with people and into the inner courtyard. The last Avadirs caught up with Liam and they stopped to catch their breath. “Our main concern is finding the princess and Tyric,” Liam said. “With any luck, they’ve found their friend already. Once they’re safe, we’ll rally the guard, secure the palace, and figure out what’s going on here.” “Yes, sir!” “You’re the last, loyal to the sovereign. Your princess and Asdurah need your strength one last time!” The Samarian turned and led his men through the oaken double doors and into the castle. Liam drew his rapier and pointed out four men.

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“You, get whatever guards you can and get this quarter secured,” he ordered. “If they come this way, we can make it safe for them to pass. Get them to safety outside the castle. The rest, come with me. We’re going to the catacombs.” The men split.

What’s going on here? Is it an attack? Erebani? Where's the Queen and her retinue? Why isn’t the castle guard organized? The Avadirs ran down the corridors towards the north end. Liam silently thanked the gods for all the time he’d spent with Magda here. If it hadn’t been for her, he would’ve never learned his way around the palace. The further along Liam got, he noticed there were less and less people. When he passed the halls that led to the council chambers, dead bodies of servants lay strewn down the passage. Liam slowed up and raised his hand to his men. “Take care,” he said. “No sword killed these people.” There wasn’t a single drop of blood on the grey stones or the servants. They seemed…broken. Liam could feel a faint tingle of dark magic in the air. “Sweet Mother of All,” an Avadir muttered. “What kind of sorce --” Suddenly, the Avadir screamed. A dead servant with a crushed skull and hellish eyes bit into his neck. Liam muttered a few words. His kiris came to life with green fire and sliced into the thing. It shrieked as it let go of his man. “Liam!” the other said and pointed down the hall. “What the hell are they!?” The dead servants snarled as they rose up. Liam stared as they lurched brokenly. The crunch of splintered bone echoed down the hall. The dead walked! This sorcery was perverse beyond anything he knew.

This isn’t any of the Erebani’s doing!

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Liam kicked the dead thing back. It slid off his kiris and he picked up his wounded man. More dead rose in front of them. They threatened to box them in. “Sir!?” “We go through them,” Liam said. “There are stairs around the corner. If we get up them, we can fight them off.” Liam’s other man nodded and sliced through another corpse. The other dead things scraped down the passage after them. “Now, pretty,” something rasped as Liam and his soldiers rounded the corner. “The Prince will have you! Resistance is useless!” Liam saw a bronze-skinned woman. She lashed out with a Soreshan cinquedea that burned bright. She fell against the stairs and tried to move up. The dead lunged at her; she kicked and sent it tumbling into others. Liam set his injured man down. This was Tyric’s friend, the one he and Magda had come for. “Sadiah!” he yelled as he and another Avadir rushed up. The dead screeched as Liam cut his way through to her. When the last one fell, he held out his hand to her and pulled her off the stone stairs. “You’re safe now,” Liam said as he sheathed his kiris. “Who…are you?” “I’m Liam. Tyric and Magda came to rescue you.” Liam saw the angry, bloody lines on her back. He took off his cloak and covered her.

Dear gods, someone put the lash to her! I don’t know how she can even stand. “They’re alive?” Sadiah whispered as she wiped tears from her eyes, “Thank gods!” Liam’s brow furrowed slightly. The Mirikinn were godless heathens, he thought.

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“Your man,” she said as she walked down the stairs, amid the things that they had slain. She knelt next to him and stroked his hair. “Ssh…” Sadiah whispered to the man. “We need you.” The Avadir was pale and soaked in his own blood. He only gurgled when she put her hand to his wound. The Avadir’s eyes closed. He slumped against the wall, and his chest stopped rising. Suddenly, his body arched and something pulled him back to this world. “Lady Ahliel, ” he whispered, as his eyes opened. “For you…” “For them too,” she said. The man’s flesh knit back together as if he’d never been bit. Liam was sure that he would die, but Sadiah had done something to him. “My gods…” he murmured. “We have to go,” Sadiah said as she pulled the cloak around her. She handed the healed Avadir one of her short swords. “If we go up, the corridor leads into the throne room,” Liam said. “We can cut across to the catacombs from there.” “I have to find Drevin,” Sadiah said. “I won’t leave without him!” “The dungeons are on the way.” Sadiah nodded. She picked up her other short sword and followed Liam up the stairs. She brushed past him and Liam felt his arm tingle. His wounds started to heal themselves.

***** “Where would Micar take Sadiah?” Tyric asked as they hurried up stone stairs. “Hard to say,” Master Ahbrin said. “What interest did he have in her?”

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“He wanted her as an apprentice.” “Power, glory in battle, and the prestige of training the most promising students are what they crave. He probably took her to one of the towers. He might confine her if he wanted to take her back across to Soresh.” “How many towers are there?” “Many in the castle alone.” “Nine hells,” Tyric cursed. “Sadiah could be anywhere!” “The courtyard that you saw them in? Which was it?” Magda asked, as she tried to dodge servants that still fled. “It was the southern yard, I believe,” Master Ahbrin said. “Let’s start there. I know some stairs that lead to that courtyard around there.” “Here -- we mustn’t waste time” Ahbrin’s hand searched out a glyph in the wall. He tapped it and the stone wavered. They disappeared through and moved down the corridor as fast as they could. Master Ahbrin stopped halfway down and went to open another glyph. “It has been sealed,” the old man hissed. “We cannot pass!” “You’re the last councilman,” Magda said as she drew her knives. “Whoever did this knows how you’re hiding now.” “Is there another way out?” Tyric asked as he drew his own sword. He backed away from the wall and motioned for the others to do the same. His eyes never left it. There was something here, a dark presence. He felt it when those people rushed past them, and he felt it now. “Further down a ways.” “Magda, take the old man. I’ll cat --”

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Stony claws grew out of the wall and tried to rake Tyric. He pushed Magda from one that nearly got her in the neck. Tyric gestured, and it froze as he cut some claws off at the wrist.

“Go!” Gargoyles started to emerge with the claws and Tyric was forced back. Magda and Ahbrin ran down the hall. “Come on,” Tyric growled as he drew his other sword. They poured into the passage, stalking him like prey. There were two, and they were big -- twice the size of a man. The gargoyles snarled at Tyric and he glared as the Samarian script on his swords burned bright. “Come closer!” The Gargoyles beat their gritty wings and pounced. Tyric thrust both swords into the ground. There was a brilliant shock of blue that shot across the floor. The gargoyle screeched and exploded. Shards of stone nicked Tyric’s face. There was barely any time for him to pull a sword from the floor. He leapt for the beast as it sprang at him.

Gods guide my hand! Tyric closed his eyes, the Gargoyle nearly on him. He held his follow through and razor claws ripped into his flesh. The beast turned, ready for another charge, and howled. It tried to move, but crumbled into smoking rubble from the gash in its side. Tyric winced and dropped his wounded arm. He sheathed his sword and grabbed the other from the floor. Tyric ran for Magda and Ahbrin. He hoped they hadn’t gone through the other wall without him.

*****

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The royal throne room that Liam, Sadiah, and the two Avadirs came out in was deserted. “What were those things?” Liam asked Sadiah. “Who is the Prince they were talking about?” “I don’t know,” Sadiah said. “We can figure it out later.” Liam frowned. She was hiding something; he could hear it in her voice. Whatever it was it would have to wait. “We should slow down,” Liam said. “I’m afraid your wounds will --” “Liam!” The Samarian stopped. Behind the thrones of the Sovereign and Queen Regent, he saw Magda appear, and Master Ahbrin after her. “Magdalena!” The princess ran to Liam and threw her arms around him. “I was so worried for you,” she murmured. “I’m fine.” He smiled slightly. “I promise. We found your friend. She was fighting off walking corpses when we came across her.” Magda hugged Sadiah. The Mirikinn winced, but she didn’t pull away. “You’re alive! I’m sorry, Magda, so sorry about everything.” “Ssh. You can explain later. What’s important is that you’re safe.” Sadiah wiped tears away from her eyes and Magda let her go. “Magda, where’s Tyric?” “I --” “Here,” the captain yelled, “I’m -- Sadiah?” He started down from behind the thrones, slowly at first, as he sheathed his sword, and then faster.

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“Sadiah!” Tyric pulled the small woman into his arms. She dropped Micar’s sword and winced when he held her tightly. “Easy, Tyric,” Liam said. “Someone took a whip to her.” Tyric looked down. A dark stain seeped through the back of the cloak she wore. “Who did this to you, Sadiah?” he whispered as he took her face in his hands. “Micar?” “No. It was Serren and something called a Fallen. I think…I think I --” “We must go!” Master Ahbrin interrupted. “Quickly!” “What of Drevin?” Sadiah asked, suddenly. “We just can’t lea --” An ominous chuckle echoed through the royal hall. The sound of clapping mocked them while their eyes sought the source. “Avadirs…” the smooth voice said as the last sharp clap fell silent. “Not even revenants and gargoyles could stifle you.” A figure cloaked in crimson descended from the dais. His hood hid his face except for his devious smile as he approached. “You are worthy opponents, indeed,” he said. “I was wise to wipe you out early on. You would’ve been very troublesome to my plans.”

“Who are you?” Magda demanded. “Silence, Princess! That’s no way to speak to your father.” He gestured toward her and Magda was struck mute. “Serren…” Liam muttered. Magda looked at Liam. She tried to make her voice work. Father? Her father was dead…

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“Very astute, Samarian,” Serren said. “However, my concern isn’t with you. I want my daughter and the Mirikinn.” Serren flipped down his hood and his dark eyes fell on Sadiah and Magda. “Give me the princess and the barbarian -- I promise your deaths will be swift.” The Avadirs stepped forward to form a protective arc around the women and Ahbrin. “You can’t keep me from what I desire.” Serren smirked as his eyes went steely black. A dark scythe appeared in his hand, and cold, dark fire consumed its blade. “What do you want with Sadiah?” Magda growled, as she found her voice again. “Why did you kill my father?” “You couldn’t begin to comprehend, my dear,” Serren said. “But know your mother and I did this for a stronger kingdom, we did this for you.” Serren was a blur and he was on Tyric, scythe raised with frightening speed. Metal rang on metal in front of Tyric as Sadiah summoned an unearthly staff before him. Sadiah forced the scythe back with the luminescent staff that she had summoned. The scythe buried itself in one of the marble columns of the hall. “Your sins shall not go unpunished, Serren.” “So…Ahliel wants to play,” Serren spat. “You’re weak, goddess, and when I break you, I’ll take my daughter and drag you to my Prince, myself.” The ornate marble floor of the throne room opened up around him and Fallen crawled out. Serren wrenched his scythe from the marble and swung at Sadiah. Sparks flew as it met her staff. “The hells call for your blood, Serren, and they shall have it!” Sadiah forced Serren back. On the other side of the throne room, the Fallen surrounded Magda, Master Ahbrin, and the Avadirs.

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Tyric spied one with whips that glittered faintly with inconel. He surged forward and the Fallen cracked her twin whips. The air was alive with chants as Avadirs slung their magic in brilliant waves. They managed to push some of the Fallen back. Magda drew her knives and stayed close to Master Ahbrin. One of the Fallen broke through a hole in the Avadir’s line. The Fallen started to rework her flesh and bones splintered through her skin. Two horrible mace-like things formed where her hands once were. It swung at her and Magda finessed herself around the slower Fallen. It shrieked when she buried her knife and twisted. Master Ahbrin tried to pick himself up. He mumbled some words, touched the floor and it rippled out. The Fallen screeched when she was impaled on marble spikes, and she crumbled to ash. Magda emerged from the dust. She held a jagged cut where the marble jabbed her in the arm. “Master Ahbrin!” “I’m fine, child. You’re safe. That’s all that matters,” he said as he tried to catch his breath. “Go -- the Mirikinn needs you!” Magda looked over her shoulder. She could see Tyric set on the Fallen who wielded the inconel whips. The others were embroiled with more than one, and Sadiah was on the other side of the hall.

If I can get behind Serren… “Abomination!” Sadiah charged as she leveled her blazing staff at him. “Diras’s corrupt power won’t save you!” Serren snarled and swung his scythe. Sadiah tried to dodge, but she cried out when it tore a gash in her arm. She fell back, holding her arm. Painful, black frostbite spread from her wound and started to devour her skin. “I may be an abomination,” he sneered, “but you’re still flesh!”

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Sadiah lashed out at Serren. An arch of silver flame caught his cheek and blood seeped out between his fingers. “So weak -- is that all you’ve got in you, Ahliel?” He smirked. Sadiah held her ground as Serren advanced, scythe raised, oblivious to everything but his prey. Magda snuck behind him and buried her knife between his ribs. All Magda saw was the sovereign’s face, the father she loved, the one who’d raised her. “Ledah!” Serren gasped. “I --” “I have no father,” Magda whispered harshly as tears ran down her cheeks. She jabbed her knife deeper into his back and twisted. “My father is dead. You killed him.” Blood oozed from the corner of Serren’s mouth. He tried to reach for her but she pushed him off her knife. He staggered forward and fell to the floor. All the power that the Prince had granted him, faded. It was enough of a distraction and Tyric gutted the Fallen who’d tortured Sadiah. She withered and crumbled to ash as her inconel whips clattered to the floor. The Fallen retreated, and one grabbed Serren. She uttered something, gestured, and Serren and the Fallen faded into nothing. Magda saw the black gash in Sadiah’s arm, and she and Tyric hurried to her side. “Magdalena…” Sadiah whispered as her hand brushed across Magda’s cheek. Magda felt warmth radiate through her body and she felt her wounds start to heal. Sadiah clutched her arm and cried out in pain. She collapsed and Tyric caught her as the corruption from her wound spread.

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Chapter Twenty-Seven

Sadiah woke in a dim room. The bed she laid in on her stomach was soft and warm. She brushed some dark hair behind her ear and propped herself up on her arms.

Bandages…where did these come from? The linens wrapped around her whole torso, and her arm was freshly bandaged as well. “Where am I?” Sadiah muttered as she turned over. “You’re still in Karenna.” “Tyric?” He leaned forward out of the shadows he sat in. Sadiah settled on her side. Her covers fell away, and she pulled them up to her naked waist. Tyric got up from his chair and sat next to her on the edge of her bed. He gently stroked dark hair away from her face. “How long have I been here? I…I can’t remember anything.” “Days,” Tyric said. “We were afraid you wouldn’t wake.” “Wouldn’t wake?”

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“After we drove off Serren and the Fallen, you collapsed,” he said. “Ahbrin has been looking after your wounds. Liam asks about you everyday, and Magda has been worried for you, too.” “And you?” Tyric gestured to the chair. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” Sadiah’s brow furrowed. It slowly came back now. Serren, the Fallen, Micar taking her and then setting her free; she was the reincarnation of the goddess Ahliel…

It’s strange, Sadiah thought as she brushed a hand up her arm. I am…a goddess, I am Ahliel, and yet there are all these other lives, other people in my memories who where also me. And there’s Diras, the Prince… Tyric took Sadiah’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to be okay,” Tyric said softly. “You’re safe now. When you’re well, we can figure out what happened to you. Master Ahbrin says --” “I can’t stay.” Tyric’s brow furrowed. “Sadiah,” he said. “I don’t know what happened to you in the throne room when we fought Serren, or why he kept calling you Ahliel, but you need to stay. You need to rest and heal and then we can figure this out.” “I can’t.” All Sadiah could see was Drevin’s face. All she could feel was his kisses and his gentle touch. Sadiah sat up more in the bed against the pillows and tried to get up. “Sadiah,” Tyric warned as he gently took hold of her shoulders and tried to keep her from rising anymore. “Where is Drevin? I want to see him. We have to find Jhael. The boy is on his own; he needs us!”

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“You…you fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Sadiah nodded. Sadiah felt Tyric’s irritation through his stormy glare, but she didn’t look away. “Why the Erebani, of all people, Sadiah!” “He…Drevin made me feel like a woman. He had a soft way with me. He is a good, kind man.” “You’d rather be content with the memory of a murderer, then?” Tyric whispered harshly. “What…what did you say?” Sadiah sat forward. She winced and felt something in her back tear. “Your Erebani killed the sovereign. He murdered Magda’s father and started this entire war!” Sadiah’s hand fluttered to her mouth.

The war…the war that was meant to draw me out for the Prince! “Magda’s…father?” “He’d be facing the council’s justice if he were still alive.” “Get out,” Sadiah whispered as tears started to fall. “I said get out!” She cradled her head in her hands and wept.

***** “You were never a spy for the Erebani?” Magda asked as she walked with Sadiah through the main courtyard to Asdurah’s gate. “No. Drevin was ill. If I hadn’t met his son, he might’ve died.” “What about the camp?” “I left because of Micar. I regret leaving the way I did. It caused you pain, I know.”

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“I thought you died!” Magda said. “You had us all worried, Tyric the most! When the missive came down from the general to kill you for treason I was ready to --” Magda looked away. Sadiah knew she was the archer in brush at the Marches. Had she really meant to do Tyric harm for her sake? Sadiah saw the torn look on Magda’s face. The thought still haunted the princess. “You love him, don’t you?” Sadiah said softly. She didn’t know how she missed that before, and it suddenly made her feel very uncomfortable. For a long time, Magda probably had the wrong impression about them. “He is worried for you,” Magda snapped, ignoring Sadiah’s question, “and now you’re leaving, after all he did for you?”

“Don’t think me ungrateful for everything Tyric has done,” Sadiah warned. Sadiah turned away from the princess, and a hand fell on her shoulder. “Did you feel anything for Drevin?” “He…murdered your father.” “He was coerced by my mother and Serren. They tortured his wife, Talya, until he did what they wanted, but they still killed her.” Sadiah stared at Magda. She didn’t believe what she just heard. Magda’s brow furrowed. “Weren’t you told?” “Tyric…left that part out,” Sadiah managed. “He wasn’t himself when we spoke last.” “Master Ahbrin insists you stay,” Magda said, “but since you're so eager to leave us, where will you go?” Sadiah flinched at that. She didn’t know if it was an intentional stab at her or not. Even if it wasn’t, it was well deserved. “I…I’m not who you think I am,” Sadiah managed. “I --”

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Magda softened and embraced her friend. Sadiah was taken aback by that. “I’m sorry, Magda,” Sadiah murmured as she slowly hugged her back. “I’ve made an awful mess of things. Going might be bad, but staying might make things worse.” Magda hugged her tighter and felt the sting of tears on her cheeks. Sadiah nodded and gently kissed her on the forehead. It was almost like old times, when they were at the camp. Those memories seemed so far away now. There was too much between them for things to be as they were. “There is the matter of Jhael, Drevin’s son,” Sadiah said as she pulled away from Magda. “He has no one to look after him now. I need to find him. I think his father would want me to.” “Liam’s men found him,” Magda said. “One of the riders took him to Aranti. Liam said he insisted on going to Tarathene, which is somewhere across the sea on the Iron Coast.” “Then I’ll go to Tarathene.” “Hopefully you’ll find him. Without the boy, Liam wouldn’t have found Tyric and I as quickly.” Sadiah’s brow furrowed. Something nagged at her, something she needed to ask. For Jhael’s sake, if nothing else. “How did Drevin die?” “He was taken by something,” Magda said. “Some sort of Caliga, an eidola, Master Ahbrin said. We couldn’t save him.” “Where’s his body, then?” Sadiah asked suddenly. “Did you find a body? What --” “There was nothing,” Magda said softly. “No body that we saw, and no time to look for one, so we thought the worst. I’m sorry.” There was silence for a moment. Sadiah tried to make sense of what Magda said. “How,” Sadiah started, “how would you have judged Drevin if he were still alive?”

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“I don’t know. He killed my father. Even if I could forgive him, it wouldn’t matter. His own people would have his head for what he’d done. He did an assassination without a Writ, and that’s punishable by death.” Sadiah nodded. Jhael was on his way to the Iron Coast. For Drevin’s sake as much as her own peace of mind, she needed to find the boy and look after him. “I know who you are,” Magda whispered as she hugged Sadiah again. “I never understood why you were different, but now I know. You’ve been gone for so long, Ahliel. Will you ever come back to us? To Asdurah?” “I don’t know, Magdalena. I’m so weak. Don’t speak of this to others. I don’t know what to do about this, about myself…”

I’ve caused you all so much trouble. I can’t stay and I can’t come back -- not for a while. I need time, I need to find Jhael and I need to find out about Ahliel, about myself… Sadiah shook her head and flipped up her hood. She walked down the cobbled path of the castle’s courtyard towards the gates. It seemed so far away; truly, it was the longest walk in her life as she put terrible, silent distance between her and everyone. “Gods be with you and Jhael,” Sadiah heard Magda say softly. “I hope you both find your way.”

***** From the castle wall, Tyric watched Magda and Sadiah part. He’d tried for days to see Sadiah, but she wouldn’t have it. Tyric knew she still wasn’t well; he wanted her to stay. An arm came around Tyric’s waist and Liam gently pressed against his back. “Watching Sadiah go will only cause you more pain,” Liam said, as he looked down on her from the parapet. Tyric watched her walk the last few steps to the gate. “She fell in love with an Erebani assassin, Liam. The sovereign’s assassin!”

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His hands gripped the castle’s stone so hard it could’ve drawn blood. Liam put his hand on one of Tyric’s and it relaxed some. “Be fair,” he said. “Sadiah didn’t know.” Tyric’s brow furrowed. He didn’t know which he was more upset about: Sadiah falling in love with the Sovereign’s assassin, or that she was leaving before she was well again. “I know you care for her very much even though you don’t approve of the feelings she had for the Erebani.” Tyric shook his head slightly. “I sheltered her from Micar,” Tyric said. “I always made sure she was safe and had everything she needed.” The captain was silent for a moment. “Micar was right about them -- about her and the Erebani…” Liam took his arm from around Tyric’s waist and brushed some of his hair away from his face and behind his ear. “The Erebani is gone now,” Liam said softly. “He might’ve been our enemy, but he was still her loss. Mirikinn women, what is known of them, don’t lead very happy lives. Sadiah was fortunate to have his love if they truly loved each other, even for a short time.” “How can she love a man knowing he had innocent blood on his hands?” Tyric murmured. “That will be her own struggle. Somehow, Sadiah will have to find a way to come to terms with what he did and why.” Tyric looked down into the courtyard and saw Sadiah look up to the walls as she flipped her dark hood up. He wondered what she was thinking or if she had seen him. Tyric wanted to call out to her, but he didn’t. “She’ll be alone. She won’t have Magda or me…”

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“I’m certain Sadiah will find her way,” Liam said. “This is probably for the best, at least for now. This is her choice, the path she feels she must take. No matter what you feel, you can’t change that. No one can.” Tyric and Liam watched the guards open the gates for Sadiah. She slipped through, ghost-like, as if she had never been there at all. “Liam? Are you up here?” Liam and Tyric turned away from the parapet. They heard Magda’s voice as she made her way up the spiral steps of the tower. “Liam? Tyric?” Liam took Tyric’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Magda needs us now.” he said softly. “Sadiah was just as much her loss as she was yours, and she has a kingdom to rebuild.” Tyric saw her in the doorway of the tower as she climbed the last few steps. He looked across the narrow parapet, grateful that she had come. “Tyric?” Out of the corner of his eye, Tyric saw the empty courtyard where Sadiah slipped through the gate. He felt a soft hand on his cheek and looked up to see Magda. “Are you all right?” The gentle feel of Magda’s hand was a welcomed comfort. “She’s gone,” Tyric said. “And what Serren said, the way he kept calling her Ahliel, was…strange.” “I know. She’s bound for the Iron Coast to look for Drevin’s son. There was nothing I could say that would keep her. I don’t know why Serren would say something like that, but…we should pay better attention to our gods.”

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Magda gently caressed his cold cheek, and Tyric let go of Liam’s hand. He smoothed away wind-blown strawberry-blonde hair and kissed her forehead. Tyric looked to Liam and he came to them. He wove his arms around Magda’s waist while Tyric still held her. For a long time, there was silence between the three and Tyric took comfort in the presence of his lovers. He wanted to ask Magda about their Triune when Liam spoke up. “Do you want to be with us, to be joined in this Triune with Tyric and me?” “I’m yours, Liam. I’ve always been. Will you have me, Tyric?” “Be with us, Magda,” he said softly. “Love us always as we love you.” She stretched up to gently give each of them a kiss. “I will. I swear it.” The moment those words passed Magda’s lips, Tyric felt the same sensation he had when he, Liam, and Magda had made love. The ties that bound them together in mind, body, and spirit suddenly flared to life. He felt the warmth and joy of their love shaded with undertones of heady desire fully blossom in his mind. Tyric’s own feelings reached out and twined with Liam and Magda’s minds as their bond deepened. “What is this?” Magda said. “I felt this before, but I didn’t know what it was.” “It is the lienn -- the bond that is felt when three share a Triune with a Samarian,” Liam said softly. “The lienn brings us closer to one another. Not just in body, but in soul. In time, we may even know each other’s thoughts.” “Is it wise to know a man’s thoughts like that?” “I don’t think you’d mind some of our thoughts, amaia.” Tyric smiled as he tenderly pressed his free hand to her belly. “I love you…”

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Edda Hawkins Inspired by the dark and sensual images of renowned artists such as Gerald Brom, Boris Vallejo, and Luis Royo, as well as a variety of music from Dead Can Dance to Rob Zombie, Edda brings to life the realms of fantasy that she roams through in her daydreams. When she’s not writing, she loves reading anything she can get her hands on, watching movies and anime, gardening, practicing archery, and traveling to new and interesting places. Edda currently resides in Ohio with her husband and her two cats.