The Thoughtmaster’s Conduit
by Kerry Orchard
© copyright by Kerry Orchard, August 2001
Cover Art by Eliza Black
ISBN 1-58608-300-7
Gemstar Edition 1-58608-393-7
New Concepts Publishing
4729 Humphreys Rd.
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED TO:
Kelly who has seen me through darkness and light and accepted me quirks and all and my children for their unconditional love and being who they are, the most precious of gifts. To Darlene, Christy, Theresa and all those whose help and unfailing support brought me to where I am. You know who you are. All of my family - for believing it was possible.
Thanks also to all who have chosen to read my work, and to NCP for making this possible.

For Taoe
As I walk through the darkened corridors,
of death’s hall,
I feel the autumn wind surround me,
the pule of life slips through me.
Witness,
the last waltz of the soul,
with destiny,
as it leads with silken tendrils,
equally,
hope and despair,
through the sticky web of life,
to the tanglement of death.

Dearest Taoe,
For while others watch life,
you grasped it,
our love and thanks, forever
Yhisc

Tribunal
Voracious as a predator,
Evil,
careens through time,
and chaos rides its velvet black wings,
Demons to hand.
Know your brother's name in misery,
whose calling is death,
and hold his blame in your heart,
that's two shared,
you, who are blameless.

ONE
Soulstealer, floating gracefully, circled the writhing combatants who battled beneath him. Dropping to the ground in a crouch, he slunk along the earth, his wraithlike form barely discernible to any but the most accurate eye. Responding to his presence, both aggressor and victim alike, stopped moving, lying still as the cold chill of death shivered up their spines. The wraith's countenance twisted in disgust, he moved away to await the outcome. Someone would die.
"Pig!" The hoarse shout brought its recipient to his feet.
Etan grinned affably. "She doesn't mind, do you Ahlisha?"
The girl moaned, then began to sob behind him.
Rhan’s friend, Taoe, had come up behind him, his own eyes blazing with anger. "I’ll hold him for you, Rhan." Suddenly sober, the chilliness of his voice startled even himself.
Rhan, looking down at the girl’s bloodied thighs, felt a heated rage cover his eyes with it's feverish mist. He had charged his brother like an enraged bull, wanting only to beat the smirk from his smug face. Now his own brother lay at his feet, no more than a broken, bloodied pulp. He felt rather than saw his sword arc toward his brother's vulnerable chest, its cruel point driving home the last of his anger. Taoe’s protests were only a background irritant.

TWO

Rhan awoke with a startled shout, then laughed nervously. It was only a dream. In relief, he raised large hands to run them through his thick, braided hair, but heavy chains tugged at his wrists. He cried out miserably at the anguish of his reality.
******
"Murder is always wrong," with those solemn words, Fiona, senior member of the Council of Elders, concluded her speech to the two men before her. The anguish in her dark eyes overshadowed the starch of her words. Silence, her only answer, swelled around them and she shivered as it tickled her ears, prickling the hair on her neck.
Family, peers of the men awaiting the council’s judgement, sat tensely, clinging to that silence like a shield, while the members of the Tribunal began to speak quietly among themselves. Fiona straightened her thin shoulders, patted her straggly gray hair, cleared her throat and began anew.
"Rhan of Waterside," the Elder halted her tongue, her gaze boring into Rhan’s own piercing, mismatched gaze as she studied him for any sign of wavering or weakness. She found she preferred the humanity of the pale blue orb to that of the glinting silver. Her gaze drifted over his slim, roughly chiselled nose and instinctively drew down toward the tight, thin lips which stretched into a grimace of shame. The well-shaped chin was covered by a thick beard shaved up the center to display the deep cleft of the Da’liesh sorcerer. It jutted out proudly despite his disgrace and humiliation. He met her scrutiny with a convincing strength shadowed only by the weight of his grief. Thick brown braids guarded his head like warriors. Tightening her own lips, her resolve strengthened, Fiona continued, ignoring the powerful blue tattoos that scrolled down the face and body of the one that faced her. One, she should admire-- fear. "Do you, Rhan, understand the nature of the charges that lie against you? Charges to which you have plead guilty?" Her eyes met his once more and he felt the fleeting caress of her compassion. "And yet you still refuse council?"
"Yes, Elder." His voice came out deep and strong, echoing throughout the chamber. "To both." The room suddenly flooded with the hushed admonishments of the watchers, then silenced when the Elder’s voice rose above them.
"And you accept any punishment we should so choose to offer?"
"Yes, Elder, I do."
"And Taoe of Waterside." The Elder turned her wizened head toward the second man. Staring deeply into his naive, childlike eyes, she found pity nearly stopped her tongue. "You also understand the nature of the charge, and accept responsibility as well as punishment, yet still refuse council?"
"Yes, Grandmother," Taoe quietly offered the title in respect of the elderly wisewoman, the eldest among the women, whose ages spanned the decades, though all began their tribunal duties at sixty.
The frail woman, whose face resembled a shrunken, shrivelled, unpeeled apple, shook her head sorrowfully. "It saddens me to do this, though our sadness has brought leniency to the punishment." She paused, nervously clearing her throat in a room so still that even the slightest sound resounded like thunder.
"Rhan, for the murder of your elder, half brother, Etan of Waterside…."
The Da’liesh shut his eyes and held his breath as a vivid image of his brother’s bloodied body crept stealthily through his mind.
"…also Home Elder to your village, I sentence you to one full year in the salt mines. If, you survive, if," she muttered lowly, "you will be free at that time. The extenuating circumstances of this sorrowful event have swayed our hand. We see the guilt and grief in you, a punishment in itself, though the law demands more. We know that you killed only to prevent the..." She swallowed distastefully, uttering a prayer for strength.. composure. "..rape, of the young Tangmere woman, Ahlisha, and that you did not use your power. Also, we acknowledge your mind was addled with drink. We took all this into consideration when we passed our judgement. Do you still understand and accept the punishment of this Tribunal, and myself, Fiona, at its head?"
"I do, Grandmother. Thank you for your kindness."
The woman looked up sharply, surprised. "You will find it no kindness when you arrive."
She turned back to the other man, so unlike the friend he had aided and stood by. Of medium height, Taoe came only to the shoulder of his friend, Rhan. The warrior stood as tall in pride, however, but the belly straining against his tunic was more than visible, the dirty blond hair braided but thin, and the thick beard covered a small, rounded chin completely. Close set green eyes that sparkled with fear but also resignation, surveyed the scene before him. A stubby nose twitched above meaty lips surrounded by the lines that can only come from laughter. Easy going and loyal, Taoe had never expected to end up before the Tribunal for anything more than being drunk and disorderly.
"And Taoe, for aiding Rhan, your punishment will be one year's time in the gem mines. This Tribunal thinks it best you two are separated." Taoe grimaced but did not speak. "Do you also accept and understand the judgement and punishment of the Tribunal?"
"I do, Elder." This voice, softer, less assured, did not reach far into the ears of those who watched. "My thanks also." He spoke louder, then muttered, "though I'd do it again."
"What was that?" the piercing, emerald eyes of another, younger, wisewoman stabbed him.
"Nothing, Elder, a simple prayer of thanks to the Elementals," he answered in explanation, attempting to spread chained arms in a show of innocence. The shrewd eyes that held his remained unbelieving but not mocking.
After the first out-rush, dismay had kept those in the audience quiet until the Elder Fiona, spoke her final words. "Rhan, because you are Da’liesh, though, thank the Elementals, you did not use your power to kill, your left arm will be chained behind your back at all times. This is to prevent you from resorting to sorcery if you feel the need, and you might well," she finished truthfully. "We, the council, who represent the people of Ourshare of the allover Dlrow, decree this Tribunal closed."
The cruelty of the last punishment pushed the audience into chaos and sound exploded around them. Cries erupted from Rhan's mother. Shouts came from his father and the peers of both. The cry taken up by the audience was a simple, truthful one. It was done in defence. They shouted uselessly, hurled insults as the Elders rose stolidly and left the chamber, deaf to the pleas that followed them.
A guard moved forward to brand the hands of the two prisoners with the broken circular mark of the criminal, taking them into custody. Head slung low, arm chained behind him, Rhan was led away, unheeding of the cries of his father who had to be removed by two armed guards. The guards, fearing a rebellion, skilfully escorted the audience from the premises.
Standing alone by the doors that led from the Tribunal chambers to Eldercity beyond, a young woman, with skin the color of molten silver, lifted a small hand in farewell. Raising defiant, brilliant yellow eyes, she watched the Elders leave with a mounting bitterness. With a toss of her long, kinky, black hair and a pucker of full soft lips that tugged at a shapely nose, she turned on her heel and disappeared out the door. Ignoring her father's cry, she ran blindly into the city streets, vowing that someday she would make this right. Someday she would help Rhan and all the people of Ourshare, no, all of Dlrow would remember him for the good he was and had done. He had saved her life.
"Ahlisha...." Her mother’s wail followed her into the street.

THREE

The Daha’et

The sun, hanging high in a fragrant summer’s sky, darkened momentarily as hazy shapes floated slowly across the path of its sunny face. People, all over Ourshare, looked up, curious, at the sudden darkness in a barren sky. It passed quickly however, and they shrugged off their inquisitiveness, though some shivered and spat to ward off evil. There was work to be done.
Graceful silver wings sliced through the gentle breeze, their slight mechanical sound barely discernible to the human ear. In a downward spiral, arced toward the brooding mountain peaks that drew them, they effortlessly carried the burden of their own bodies and that of their riders. Two hungry eyes peered out from a skeletal face, covered with skin as fine as rice paper, whose shifting features left the viewer confused. The black cowl that hung low over the prominent brow flapped wildly in a sharp mountain breeze. "The source of power is here." The voice was surprisingly strong from such a diaphanous figure.
Another, with much the same look and grayness to his pallor, answered, "We'll go in. I sense an entrance near. Dismount, leave the Time Riders here, inside the entrance, you think?" he asked, nodding to the five others who joined him and bowing to the first who had spoken.
"Here is fine." He cast his heated eyes over the black creatures, their silver wings folded elegantly at their sides. "No one will bother them."
Entering the tunnel as one, the group of emaciated strangers walked confidently down the narrow corridors of long forgotten passages, the bitter claws of cold defeated in its pursuit to freeze. These did not even flinch as its bite dug into their sickly flesh. "Here," the first hissed when his gaze took in the scene before him, narrowing as steam from a sudden heat source rose into the cool, damp channel.
Several small, squat, toad-like creatures turned slow, beady eyes toward them, their diminutive noses flared and round mouths open in o's of surprise. They wore long silver robes of a plain gauzy material, their feet bare but apparently immune to the heat as they circled five separate burping lava pits.
The creatures stood passively together in their five rings of eight, all bordering one equal inner hoop. "Who are you?" The interlopers demanded in the tongue they had heard the odd group utter.
"We are earth. We are sky. We are all. How do you speak our tongue, long forgotten on the lips of men but by the Da’liesh, which, you are not."
"We can speak any tongue once heard, even if only an utterance. You are the power?" the first stranger asked, surprised.
"We are the power. Who are you? We have spoken to none for an eternity, are even forgotten in the prayers of the Children."
"We are strangers here. Exiles from our own...land. Tell us…" He hesitated as though the next word was foreign to his tongue. "..please, of this land."
Their own hesitation in response was only momentary. "We are the Wakhanee, placed here on Dlrow by our father, the True Master. It is our duty to care for this place and all of its Children. He is gone now - away," they intoned sadly. "We were given the Power within these chains to hold in our care. The land is ruled by them. All functions within the boundaries of these circles, though," they lamented, "few remember why."
"There is earth-- who stoke the world fires, guard the forests, create life and regrowth, protect the crops."
A second circle spoke," There is sky who fills the space with stars, fires the sun and moon, changes the weather and season, stabilizes time."
Another. "And we are water, who control the tide and care for the needs of both ocean and river. Water, is the carrier of souls and home to the dolphins, who hold the souls of the Da’liesh and those whose hearts are pure."
"And we are," yet another said, "sorcery for the Da’liesh… the source of power. We are the catalyst controlling the stem and flow, offering gifts, taking prayers, what little there are. The Children have forgotten us. It weakens us, makes it harder to govern Dlrow," the creatures whined out their hurt. "We also take offerings and keep the knowledge of Power for only the few who are born with the gift."
"And we are the heart," those creatures in the center spoke with pride, "the center of all. Core of life. We are conscience, reason, destiny, birth and death, arm of Soulstealer, the thief of life. The last circle is filled with servers, who care for us and share their strength." They paused, then asked almost shyly, "Do you have a name?"
"We are the Daha'et. It means, Death's Master," he spoke politely. "I, am Orn, master of the Daha’et. So...you say magic or sorcery rather, is not free here, inside one's own?" Orn had not understood all that they had said, but the only thing that mattered to him was the Power, it’s source and availability.
"No," the reply came sharply, in unison, "that would be unwise. We hold it and pass it on as required, seen fit. Few, as we said, are born as Da’liesh. We are the catalysts, they, the catchers."
"Catalysts," Orn murmured wonderingly.
"Tell us of yourselves, it is only proper now." The Wakhanee shuffled their feet and began to appear agitated, wondering if in their hurry to commune with another they had not been hasty, an unusual experience for them.
"Yes," Orn answered impatiently, "but later. First, we must see this lovely land you control. Tell me, what would happen if you broke the circles?"
"Chaos!" They cried once more in unison.
"Chaos." Orn appeared thoughtful. "Of what manner?"
"Of each circle." The Wakhanee seemed at a loss to explain. "All would be disrupted, the ebb and flow of the land, out of sync. Unavoidable destruction would follow in time. Death to the Children."
"Death to the Children," Orn repeated before smiling at the Wakhanee in an attempt at reassurance, but he showed more of his countenance than he had meant. He saw their fear but knew with confidence they would not act in time. They were slow by nature and, admittedly weakened. "We must see these Children."
******
The villagers stood with mouths agape as the silver winged creatures flew gracefully above them. They had never seen the like. To them the beasts, dragon-like in appearance, though black as coal, were alive, beasts of a hell they did not know.
The Daha’et flew in a v, circling several villages and the two cities but stopping at the ocean’s frothy edge. This area, well contained by the immense ocean and solidity of a backdrop of mountains, would be all they required, large enough.
They could see the massive steamers docked at the bay were few. Obviously not many ventured to travel across the dangerous ocean. They hovered silently over the river boats that steamed up the wide river, paddles churning as they tugged their passengers’ wares behind on small barges. The Travellers shaded their eyes and stared up with awe, unaware that their language and movements were being mastered and copied, a common language known as trade, the Daha'et found, so close to their own they basically knew it anyway.
Orn pointed to a nearby village, waving his companions down. They settled elegantly among the dust their mounts disturbed. "Come out," Orn called pleasantly to the villagers who had hidden themselves away. "We are strangers to your land, visitors and wish only information. Please." He spread his arms wide in appeal. "We will not harm you."
A sturdy, bear of a man with black braided hair and thick beard stepped into the road. "I am Marn, Home Elder of this village. You stand in Landsend. Who are you and whadda’ ya want?" he asked boldly, though his insides quivered.
"Landsend. I see. Well, Marn, what can you tell me of this land and its beliefs?"
"What can ya tell me of yours?" he growled back.
Orn smiled but his face remained shadowed by the cowl, sending shivers down Marn's spine. "As I said, we are only visitors from...across the sea." He waved a dismissive arm in that general direction. "It is a far land we travel from. We are exiles of our own people. We ask only to know your ways and for your hospitality, for a...short time."
"I have never heard of such as you from any who've gone afar or come from across the water."
"We are the Daha'et and we know nothing of you." Orn attempted a pleasant smile which only sent shivers down Marn’s spine. "Dlrow is a large place. Is this so strange?" Orn folded his arms across his chest and stared challengingly at Marn.
The man shrugged, unconvinced, his wary gaze drawn to the Time Riders. "They won't take to killin' the livestock?"
Orn smiled a chilly grin. "No." Silently amused, he did not add more. He realized the man didn’t know they were not alive. "A drink. I see you have both tavern and roadhouse. Would you turn away those who would spend gold?" Orn had taken a chance, uncertain of the currency of the place.
It got the Home Elder's attention. "Alright, come ahead. Come out people. We have guests." The villagers slowly filed into the street and began to go about their business, their eyes always on the Riders. Marn led the Daha'et to the tavern and carefully, holding back as much as he gave, answered their questions. He knew there was something very wrong with his visitors.

FOUR

Vero - Love, born the child of chaos

The heat rose from the ground in waves, tangled with the musty odor of sweat and the sickly sweet scent of blood. The cruel crack of a whip left Rhan howling with rage. He turned to face the one who tormented him. "Someday, Bauk, you will pay!"
The Hch'ape only laughed. "Don't make idle threats, Da’liesh." He gurgled a laugh again as he cracked the whip over Rhan's bound left arm. Rhan stared up into the doughy, human face and stone cold, black eyes of the guard who stood six hands above him. He tried not to gag at the stench of the beast whose massive body was covered by coarse, matted black hair.
Long arms curled up and folded across Bauk's wide chest. He chuckled, knowing that even if Rhan lived the two would never meet again. "Do you need another beating, little man? Get back to work."
A voice from behind him spoke soothingly in common trade, startling Rhan.
"Are you from across the sea?" Rhan asked curiously, noting with interest the accent, despite the painful welts across his back and arm.
The stranger shook his head. "No, Wizard. You're bleeding, let me take you back to the rest room and clean you up."
Bauk watched suspiciously but did not move to stop them when they headed in the direction of medical aid.
"You called me Wizard. My name is Rhan. Rhan of Waterside. Who is this Wizard?"
Vero smiled turning his thin lips up at the corners, adding life to a face that held the pallor of death. Rhan glanced sideways at the man, trying to place his accent, taking in the large beak like nose, long face and dark green, wide set eyes. His hair, which hung unusually loose and limp to his shoulders, was the color of dirty straw, and though tall, large boned, he had the appearance of one starving he was so emaciated.
"Not a who but a what. The...village I am from in the far north, very far, calls men such as you...Da’liesh." He seemed to have trouble with the word. "Wizard. I am master...uh, Vero."
Rhan glanced at the man curiously, wondering what he had started to say. "Ah, you are from the north." He himself had rarely been up that way. "What brought you here?" He asked as Vero settled him on a bench and began to clean his wounds as best he could in the filthy atmosphere of the mine.
"Stealing."
"A thief." Rhan raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had not pegged the stranger a thief. "And are you cured of your ways?"
Vero smiled. "Who would not be? I didn't steal much, some fruit. They sent me here only as a warning, really. I'll be freed in the next week."
"Same as me," Rhan pointed out.
"Yes, same as you."
When the guards felt the men had worked long enough, to exhaustion, they allowed them the freedom to eat and bunk down. None knew the time of day or how many hours they had worked. Many, living so long underground in the mine, had not seen the sun for several years. Most, did not survive.
Vero followed Rhan and sat with him while he filled his stomach with rancid beef, hardened beans and bread softened only by warm water. The thief only partook of the beans and bread but Rhan could not blame him, the smell of the meat had nearly put him off.
His gaze lingering on Rhan's oddly colored eyes, Vero waited patiently until Rhan appeared to be slowing down, taking time to breathe, then asked curiously, "What brought you here?"
The Da’liesh grimaced at him. "You don't want to know."
Vero smiled again. "I do. There is little else to do here."
"Sleep," Rhan mumbled tiredly.
"Yes sleep, but allow a lonely man some companionship."
This brought an answering smile from Rhan, then his face tightened into the look of one about to impart a confidence when sworn to secrecy. "My brother.. half actually. I killed him," he ducked his head and admitted around a large mouthful of food.
Vero lifted his eyes in surprise, but asked only. "Why?"
Rhan was quiet for a time, his body tense. Vero could sense the pain roiling within him. "He was raping Ahlisha, a young Tangmere girl, and I caught him… Taoe and I. I ran at him like a bull. Drunk, so I couldn't use my power. I beat him to death while Taoe held him." He grimaced at the memory, disgust and sickness playing across his handsome face, "nice. Finished him off with my sword while he lay dying."
"It seems to me many would have done the same."
"It's worse than that. He was much older than me, my brother, son of my father's first wife, who died during child birth. My mother came soon after and raised him like her own son even when I had come. He was also Home Elder of our village. Real respectable and Ahlisha was Tangmere." He spoke as though there were something wrong with that. He laughed bitterly, tugging hard at his beard in agitation. "I believe…" Rhan took a deep breath then stopped, his skin flushing bright red, illuminating the tattoo of the eye within a half circle that graced the right side of his face. Vero ran his eyes down the blue inked symbols that coursed from it, or what he could see of them beneath the gaping, dirty dun robe all prisoners wore, but could make nothing of them.
"What do you believe, Rhan?" he asked so gently the man nearly cried out with the need to unburden himself.
"I believe," he began again, "he also killed my wife or was the cause of her death, a few years ago, after…." His right hand tightened in a fist, then pounded the table, "he raped her too. My brother's wife, Jilley, told me. She was pregnant, you see, my wife," he whispered hoarsely, "I wondered how it could be my child. I had been away."
Vero stared at him, his disgust mirroring Rhan's own, putting the Da’liesh at ease. "And you did not kill him then?"
"I was younger, unsure. I couldn't prove he was responsible, not even to myself, even after Jilley told me, but in my heart I knew and now-- I'm positive. I was away a lot, too much - work. I came home once and she was...beaten. I left again.... I vowed never to love another." He could not continue.
Vero studied Rhan and thought he could see the remnants of the battle that warred within the man, rage, grief, and self hate, each vying for supremacy. Pity overwhelmed him. He shook his head and laid a gentle hand on Rhan's shoulder. "A sad tale, my friend." That understatement was all he could manage. Rhan nodded but did not speak again as emotion overcame him. He had not even told Vero how his wife had died. He did not know if he could.
Later that night, when the two shared a bunk, Rhan on the bottom, Vero awakened to the shouts of his new friend. He roughly shook Rhan to wakefulness. "What is it, Wizard? You must be quiet or the guards will come and they seem to have a perpetuity for picking on you."
Rhan sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, staring in confusion at Vero.
"What happened?" Vero demanded again.
"A dream. It was only a dream."
"Tell me of it. Sometimes it helps to speak of it and clear it away."
Rhan glanced at him suspiciously, demanding, "Why would you want to know my dream?" He relaxed quickly, however, and sighed. "If my arm were only free," he complained, "I could catch it and watch. I've had this same dream over and over, always the same and I don't understand."
Vero could hear the frustration in his voice. "Well, tell me. Maybe I'll understand."
Rhan stared hard at him for a moment then shrugged. What difference did it make in this place? He was no Da’liesh here, just a man, not even a man, a criminal. That title squeezed his heart and he tried to glimpse the ugly brand in the dark, but could not.
"I see these...creatures," he began slowly, "falling down, then circles that are broken. The name Wakhanee, you know the ancient ones that all used to pray too. Then, I see men, too horrible to describe, like the dead brought to life." He did not notice Vero shiver. "Next I am traveling with a group and we are speaking with the Ghenosh, who seem to be pointing first toward the ocean, then at dragons or the Assembly. The Dragonshoard Mountains loom over it all. That's all I can remember. It plays over and over as though someone is trying to tell me something and I just don't get it!"
Vero, who sat solemnly staring into space, did not speak until Rhan prodded him with a snarly, "Well?"
"I don't know, but I think it's important. Once you leave here you should catch your dream. I think...it appears these, Wakhanee are sending the message and they need help. Are circles meaningful to you? I find circles everywhere here."
Rhan glared at him, his suspicion returning. "Where did you say you were from?"
"Up north, a village north and east of Ravenseye city. Foreland, it’s called." "Why," Rhan asked, still uneasy… he had never heard of Foreland, "did you ask then about circles? I thought all of Ourshare ate in circles, lived in circles. I don't know why, except that it is tradition, ancient and powerful. My father knows much of the Wakhanee. He used to try to persuade me to pray to them as a child. He says the circles are in respect of the Wakhanee and the earth, lend them strength, but, I don't know. It all sounds like children's tales to me. My mother prayed to the Elementals and I followed. My father is a historian and scribe though," he added proudly, forgetting his earlier suspicions for a moment, "so he knows more than most about these things."
Vero nodded. Rhan laid down and quietly studied the wall behind Vero, realizing, with chagrin, he had given more answers than he had received. Sleep pulled at his aching muscles and he began to wonder if once his arm was unbound, it would even be useful. He shifted his body to ease the spasming muscles within the binding. As sleep overtook him, he was aware of Vero still sitting up in the dark, but he no longer felt uneasy, though he did not understand why. He was glad to have unburdened himself so much on that day, and what harm had been done? What matter did it make where Vero was from or whether he was less than honest? He was, after all, a thief.

FIVE

The Daha’et visit Ourshare

"We have learned much." Orn and his companions stood on the threshold of the rear, undisturbed entrance that led to the Wakhanee nucleus.
"Yes," another, Daha’et, Raev, answered "They seem simple. The area is small enough in mass for us to control. The fact that they all, or most, hold the same belief and value system is advantageous, to say the least. The one common shared tongue makes it less difficult, as well." Raev appeared thoughtful. "Similar to Thamos in many ways yet vastly different. Yes, similar to our world, yet, not at all."
"I agree. The Wakhanee have told us that they are weak from the loss of prayers. Marn said they pray to these Elementals and it’s that which is causing the weakness. So, to me, the most obvious way to take control of Dlrow is to break the chains. Quiet!" Orn shouted suddenly at a group of travelers they had picked up on their flight back to the mountains. Several terrified eyes faced him, but no one dared speak.
"So what? How do we go about it? Destroy one Wakhanee from each circle, you think?" A third Daha’et, Itar, questioned Orn .
He nodded, disrupting the cowl enough to offer their captives a better view of those that held them. One woman fainted and a child screamed, then keened pathetically, but no one could comfort her or even speak, each knowing in their heart that fate had found and claimed them.
"Keep them quiet," Orn ordered the rocks behind them it seemed to the captives, until the shadows they had thought belonged to themselves began to move, circling them into a pen like cattle. "The Shadowwraiths will not harm you provided you are still," he cajoled with a hint of venom, smiling widely at the petrified features of the peasants.
"Now." He turned back to his own. "I think it's best to just take them down all at once, one from each circle. There are enough of us. I sense we cannot, as Itar wished, destroy them, but we can weaken them to a point where they are useless, except for the Power. We want that chain intact so that these Da’liesh maintain their sorcery. If we are to return to Thamos with an army, we might well need them. Let us hope it is a strong magic they possess."
"Is that safe?" Itar questioned. "Could they, the Wakhanee, not then use that power against us?" His other thought he did not ask, but he wondered, if the powers of these Da’liesh truly came from outside themselves, from the Wakhanee, could they maintain control of it on another world….on Thamos, their own world. Questioning Orn could be dangerous, despite their friendship.
"They will all be bound by the web of helplessness so it's unlikely one circle alone could harm us. We will know if they call for aid. The cast will see to that." The others, while nodding in agreement, followed their leader down the dark tunnel under the frightened, loathing eyes of the humans that awaited their death.
"You return," the Wakhanee spoke solemnly, without enthusiasm.
"Yes, we have found much to our liking on your world and have decided to call it home, for now." Orn turned to his companions. "We will need to feed after this, it's good that we brought some peasants with us."
At the cool utterance of those words the Wakhanee felt their fate. A slight shudder passed through the air as they prepared, too late, to defend themselves. The interlopers waved their arms and murmured strange words. When their hands dropped, one Wakhanee from each circle lay still upon the ground while the others stood helpless, wrapped in a gossamer webbing they could not see. The Daha'et were rocked by the sudden grumbling and shiver of the angry mountain beneath them.
"And so it begins," Orn observed quietly. "Might the chaos be not too great for us to manage." Closing his eyes, he called to the Shadowwraiths, who awaited his word. "Come, bring the humans, we will feed and be renewed by the life of their miserable souls." Orn laughed gleefully before uttering to the walls, "I was sent to die but I live!"
******
A voice, steady and wise, filled the chaotic minds of the Wakhanee, who raged against their imprisonment and inability to speak. "We are weakened by the loss of the prayers of the Children, but we must not allow that to defeat us! We must not fail in our charge. We cannot fail the True Master and his Children. Someone, somewhere will hear, will not have forgotten us."
An urgent voice interrupted this plea. "I am not rendered, brothers, it was an illusion," the voice of sorcery spoke with pride, thinking wrongfully, that their own power had saved them from the Daha'et. "Though the chains are broken, Power still runs strong and free. The one who answers our plea can use its strength. Our strength." A collective sigh spread round the circles as they prepared to put forth their need. "I am blocking our thoughts from the Daha’et. They will not know that their webbing has not completely disabled us. We must take advantage of their arrogance, thinking us so weak. We must send our plea far afield, perhaps, even one from their own land will answer."

SIX

An Answer

Four Daha'et soared up into a summer sky blasted by the permanently frozen air of the mountains. Orn, along with Itar, elected to stay behind to guard the Wakhanee. It angered him that they could not perceive the thoughts of those they had captured. That part of the invocation had not taken. The little creatures seemed capable of blocking them somehow. Worse, none of them knew or could guess as to what extent their own powers would be affected by the new world, or the magic that already coursed through its veins.
It had been only two days since the Daha'et had broken the chains and already the effects could be seen careening across the land their mechanical beasts flew over. Crops lay wilting and brown, dying in a sun so hot it seemed as though it had dropped down to cavort on the earth. In other areas, ice was spreading its chill touch across what used to be lush green vineyards and jungle. The Daha’et flew through heat that burned their gray skin, and ice that fell like rain, thunder that produced snow and lightning where no clouds danced their angry jig. Day turned to night, night to day.
After flying for some time and distance across the area they had chosen to hold, witnessing a bewildering array of climate, they decided to start small, in a place they already knew. Dropping down gracefully, they landed in Landsend, calling authoritatively for the burly Marn.
The man stepped out into an empty street and spat on the ground to ward off evil. "You’re back," he announced without enthusiasm.
"Yes. I am Raev. I bring a message for your people. Gather them so that we might speak."
Marn eyed them coldly. "Why don't ya start by tellin' me."
"No, and I do not think you'll wish to argue."
Right hand caressing his sword, the man hesitated, but finally turned away. He moved quickly down the street lined with small homes, cooking smoke curling from their chimneys.
Peering around, Raev noticed something he at least, had not noticed before-- the village was circular. All the houses and businesses ran in a tight ring that hedged the road which ran directly down the middle from one entrance to another. They had obviously come in the back way, for at the other end stood a circle of large stones. Some appeared to have a point directed up, others down, another to the side. From where he stood, he could see delicate lines of scrolled etchings down their face, food and gifts at the foot.
These must represent the Elementals Marn spoke of, he thought. Fools.
The village itself was made up of either wooden or sod houses, all with thatched roofs. Businesses displayed colorful painted signs and the houses were dressed brightly in flowers that wilted limply. The heat rose from the ground in rippling waves.
Tails switching listlessly at the flies, flanks heaving, the horses and cattle lay side by side in their pens, unable to move in the deadening heat. Dogs panted and cats stretched out in any perceivable shade. The ripe smell of rot and sewage assaulted Raev’s nostrils, and he crinkled up his face in disgust.
The sound of a chime bell ringing brought him back to face the direction in which Marn had headed. It was not long before some one hundred villagers stood with Marn in front of what appeared to be the village hall. "These...men," he called loudly for lack of a better word, "wish to speak with us." There were grumbles of disapproval and muttering of outsiders, but they shuffled their feet, wiped the sweat from their eyes, and turned to face the Daha'et.
"Some of you…" Raev paused and ran his gaze over them. "..will remember seeing us a few days ago." He waited while they murmured or nodded assent. "I am Raev and these are my Daha'et brothers. Orn, our Master, did not join us, but his thoughts are ours.
"First, I will explain that we did not come from across the sea as you were originally told. We are from far away, another star system actually, but you will not understand that," he added condescendingly. "We are exiled, unfairly, from our own planet and now require another to call home, just for a short, and inconvenient for you, time. This one seems most appropriate, but in order for us to stay we will require...certain, sustenance."
"What're you saying!" Marn demanded.
Raev only smiled and pulled back his cowl to reveal the full pallor and skeletal countenance of shifting features which seemed to change from one appearance to another. "I am saying, friend Marn, that we are different. Now, let’s get on with it. We have taken control of your world by destroying the chains that hold it together. The Wakhanee are under our power. You creatures pray to false Gods. These Elementals do not rule your world. The Wakhanee do, for one they call the True Master, but that is of no great importance. You have seen the changes in the weather. Your land dies around you. Your livestock perishes. Your wells are drying up and it will only get worse. Next, your people will die. The rest of the land is in no better condition, of that I can promise."
The villagers stared at him in mute horror, unable to express their anger, pain and disgust, emotions tinged with disbelief. "I see you wish to speak yet cannot, so I will continue. The same message will be spread to all the villages and cities on Dlrow, though we will not bother with those across the sea, yet. Now, to show that we are not total monsters, we allow that if, in one year’s time, you have followed our commands, not come against us, the Wakhanee chain will be repaired and your land returned to normal, but you will continue to follow us, as your rulers!" If there's any of you left and we're still here, Raev thought cruelly, knowing full well they would never aid the Wakhanee. Orn had decided if the Dlrowans believed this, they might be more compliant until the Daha’et were prepared to leave.
"Rulers," Marn chided, "we have no rulers, only the Council of Elders and, such as myself, the Home Elders. And we do not know the Wakhanee," he added, voice shaking, "Its been many a year since a Landsender has prayed to they! What're these commands, this sustenance that you speak of so lightly, and what makes you think we will not kill you and yer beasts? You are outnumbered."
Raev actually grinned and choked on a sickly laugh. "You, Marn, cannot kill what is already dead!" He reached over and slapped a Time Rider on the side, it's metallic sound resounding through the heat heavy air. "Or never lived. If you would like a show of our power I have no problem with that, just ask. You see we do not have to follow the same rules as your Da’liesh, we own our own magic - sorcery," he amended.
Marn stared into the black eyes of the being who stood before him and shivered. He did not doubt. "What are your commands?" he asked quietly with a defeated air. He felt the villagers move closer to him, pressing against each other as if their closeness alone was protection from what stood before them.
"They are simple, we would not make them too difficult,"
"You might rule us, Daha'et, but you will not insult us!" Marn clutched at his sword.
Raev choked out his laugh again. "Spirit, I like that in my meat." A woman next to Marn turned and vomited into the road. Raev grimaced with disgust but did not laugh again.
"Get on with it before the heat kills us all!"
Raev turned his lips up in a parody of a smile, thinking it was more likely fear that made the woman vomit.
"We will take those we wish, particularly children, for sustenance and you will not interfere. Second, you will pray, only to us, not to the Elementals, or the forgotten Wakhanee." Orn had pointed out they needed to keep the Wakhanee weak. "Third, you will send each fortnight, gold and silver for our use. We use the same currency at home and might head that way again, in the future, if we get what we need here. If you travel on business or otherwise, you will report to this Elder's council you all speak of where one of our members will be stationed." This Orn had ordered only to make their lives more difficult, dismal, and to keep them at home and separate if possible. He did not want the Daha'et's true numbers known. "And last, you will bring anything we request of you."
"We cannot," Marn sputtered as the women began to wail and the children to cry. "You cannot take our children. They're our world. Look at us, for the love of sky, we're only a hundred now. Without them we have no future. Why'd ya want them?"
Raev's face did not change, but remained cold and impassive. "That is the policy and you will follow, or, pay the price. I think you know why we want them. Did I not mention the matter of our sustenance. Perhaps, a display of our power would not go remiss."
Raev knew it was the only way. He also knew the Dlrowans must never know how few they really were, and without the peasants to feed on, their souls to nourish, the Daha’et would turn to dust. He cried out a hiss of chanting he hoped fervently would work on this strange world. A tornado that circled and danced wildly down the street, answered his call, its raging power held at bay only by Raev's command. "Do you wish me to let it loose?"
"No! Please!" Marn shouted above the roar of the whirlwind that accosted him. Fear of sorcery ran high among the simple peasants.
"You will do as told, then," Raev roared from the hideous form of a monstrous beast. "I'm feeling hungry."
"We will," Marn answered, head slung low, tears coursing down his cheeks.
"We will take none of you now. As a test, you must send those chosen along within two weeks, bearing gold, to the Dragonshoard mountains. They need not be guided other than that. They will be found."
"It'll be done." Marn nodded with a sad glance at his own little girl.
Raev cast an unfeeling eye toward him. "Too bad you stopped praying to your Wakhanee, with your prayers they might have been strong enough to defend themselves, might have been less lonely and given to talking to strangers." He chuckled throatily leaving Marn shuddering, then mounted his Rider and bid his countrymen to join him. With a long elegant finger, he pointed out those they would have come to join them in the mountains. "Just put them on the road. We'll find them if they dawdle." He hesitated, watching them for a moment, wondering if he should have said nothing of the Wakhanee, then smiled arrogantly. What help would it be to such as these?
The villagers watched them ascend with eyes full of awe and repulsion. They turned to Marn as one. He raised his hands in a plea. "What was I to do? We cannot fight them. We have time, two weeks to come up with something." He grabbed his daughter, who had been pointed out by Raev's commanding finger, and hugged her fiercely. "There must be someone who can stop this. Where’re the Da’liesh!"
But in his heart he knew they would not be as powerful as the Daha'et and many might even side with the outsiders if they thought there was power or fortune in it for themselves. They were an odd and singularly puissant group. His fear grew into a panic that he saw reflected in the eyes around him. "The Wakhanee….Does anyone remember?" he cried. He was answered by shrugs and shakes.
"The Wakhanee…" He spoke quietly at first, then gathered strength. "They say that we pray to false...Gods. They must mean the Masters, the Elementals. We must pray to the Wakhanee as our fathers did during the Age of Gentleness. Give them our strength."
"But what if the Elementals are angered? What if these Daha'et lie?" A young woman asked, her babe still suckling quietly in her arms despite the horror surrounding them.
"Then, we will pray to both, make offerings to both. Don't break the circle," he finished quietly as he held his daughter close.
"What, Da?" his fair haired cherub of a daughter asked in a high, tinkling voice.
"I can never lose you. Losing your ma was enough." He hugged her again. "I said, don't break the circle. We all say it. Our houses are in circles, our businesses, even our tables, our lives. We've been wrong. Many years ago, as a young lad, when I traveled north to Raven’s Eye City, I met a Wakhanee Priest. He was beyond old, even then, with eyes the color of liquefied gold. He told me we were wrong, that the Elementals were not our Masters, but I didn't believe. Now, I wish I had. The Elementals might only be the Wakhanee but by a different name. I don't know! But we must try somethin'. Pray for a savior! Pray for the land, pray for our children," he finished, his throat choked with the fatigue of holding back his tears.
"At least we know what's happened to the weather," an elderly man commented morosely. "It might even be why some have been so mean here abouts lately. Why the water's drying up when the under river runs fast below the well. Oh, praise the Elementals, what’ll we do?"
"We will praise the Wakhanee and, we won't break the circle," Marn spoke with more conviction than he felt, but the villagers needed him and he was their leader.
******
Rhan stared coldly at Bauk, who watched with a smug grin as he and Vero were dismissed from the mines, their possessions unceremoniously handed over. Rhan was free.

SEVEN

Eldercity

The Daha'et next followed the mighty Highcrest River along its winding course. On reaching the docks of Eldercity, they found disaster lay beneath them. The river had blown its bank, spilling its guts over the dock, flooding the river boats, barges, dock and dockside entrance to Eldercity. Flame haired braids flying, the dockmaster flew about shouting orders and encouragement. His men worked feverishly to keep the river boats from being torn free and crushed among the debris the raging water had already ripped up. Like a naughty child beating angry fists against its mother, the filthy mud churned water flowed everywhere.
From above, Raev found the circular layout of the city was more than apparent. The villagers might not know the Wakhanee now but at one time they had known them well. A thick stone wall surrounded the city, like the skin of an apple, the houses within, its core. Raev wondered curiously, why the wall? The villagers seemed non aggressive enough. He would ask.
The land surrounding Eldercity gleamed under a sun that still blazed with bright summer rays, but lay shrouded in frosted cold. Here, winter had won its battle for dominance, swooping down like a victorious lord over his enemy, leaving the land wrapped in his icy hug though the sun danced above it. Raev smiled up at the odd contrast of the blazing, brilliant sun, the air hot above them, and the icy cold below. The Wakhanee had not exaggerated.
The houses of Eldercity were much like those of the village, but the businesses were many and seemed to be clustered into one close quartered area. They could see other buildings as well, of stone, apparently institutions of some kind.
When the Daha’et passed overhead, the wings of the Riders fell in elongated black shadows across the eyes of the Captain of the City Guard. He narrowed his eyes, shading them from a sun that shone but no longer warmed, expecting to see a dragon, for good or ill. The rogues had seemed to increase tenfold in the last few days, right along with peoples’ tempers and capacity for ill.
"Guards to the wall," his cry rang out forcing his woollen mittened guards to scurry into action. Running agilely to their stations, the archers strung double arrowed crossbows and peered up. City dwellers quickly hid at the shouts, thinking another rogue dragon on the loose.
The dragons within city walls, however, doing penance, all muttered with displeasure. They did not wish to be sent up to fight their own. Some would refuse, receiving only further punishment once word got back to the Assembly.
From the doors of a dun stone building, semicircular in shape, facing the city gates, crowded the Council Elders, drawn from their offices by the Captain’s cry. They huddled closely together, wondering what the fuss was.
"What are they?" One elderly wisewoman asked another, but the other, while winding a thin wisp of black, gray streaked hair around an arthritic finger in her agitation, could not answer.
The Daha'et landed gracefully before them, the Riders black metal skin, glinting cruelly in the sun. Their steel hides settled noisily in the cold air that scraped like claws against their unnatural skin. The Elders watched the silver wings close soundlessly with profound unease. The red eyes of the beasts that faced them held no spark of life.
"We seek the Council of Elders," Raev said politely.
"We are they." The elderly woman waved a thin arm toward her female companions. "I am Fiona."
Raev waggled non existent eyebrows. "All old women?" he barked incredulously.
"We, young man, happen to be Wisewoman, chosen by our skills, one from each village to represent the people of Ourshare."
He bowed low, mocking, then laughed wheezily. "Young man," he sputtered, then narrowed his eyes as her guardsman came to stand near the woman. "I thought this land called Dlrow?"
Fiona looked startled. "That is the name of the allover world but on this side of the sea we are called Ourshare. Now, I have answered your questions. Answer mine. Who are you?" she demanded with a strength that Raev had not expected, then shivered more from cold than fear.
No one seemed able to explain the cold while the sun yet blazed strongly above. The land was freezing all around them. Their prayers went unheeded, their offerings unaccepted. Word had spread of strange occurrences all across Ourshare, but no one, so far, could explain it, not even the Elemental Priests. Fiona wished suddenly with a ferocity she could not understand, that some of the Wakhanee, whom she herself still secretly prayed to, Priests yet lived.
"I, Lady Councillor, am Raev and together we are emissarys for the Daha'et and my master, Orn. We come from Thamos, but you will not know it. I'm afraid I have some rather...bad news for you." Raev enjoyed the gasps and cries that arose when he removed his cowl.
"And you expect us to go along with this!" Fiona demanded when he had finished, her aged skin flushing dangerously red, her breath coming out in gusts of steam as she tried to control herself. "You are surrounded by guardsmen, mercenaries, and I'm sure I can find a Da’liesh and warrior or two in the city. Many with power live here."
"I see." Raev spoke seriously, but there was the underlying humor of one totally in control. He turned to his companions with a smirk. "I hope we will not be required to display another show of power. It is tiresome." Inwardly he felt his relief that their magic had remained puissant on Dlrow.
Fiona swiveled and looked at those gathered around her. Many had stopped to stare in awe at the Daha'et and their beasts. The fear that emanated from them was so strong Fiona thought she could reach out and grab it. Turning back to the Daha'et, she felt her heart shrivel. "There will be no need for a show of power. Your offer tells me all I need to know. We will go along." For now, she thought bitterly. She waved her hand down in a signal for those of the City Guard behind her to hold steady.
Raev bowed. "You are indeed a wise woman, but I don't trust you." He eyed her with amusement. "Perhaps I will show off just a little." At the wave of an emaciated hand, mouthing words of a strange tongue, those surrounding Fiona stood frozen, as if of stone, immobile at whatever task they had been practicing.
Fiona stared, mesmerized, her shock as yet unspeakable.
"Now, where do we find these mercenaries and Da’liesh?"
Fiona tightened her lips in disgust, pointing grudgingly toward the mercenary's guild, well knowing in her heart that many of those who belonged could easily be bought by good, or evil. The Da’liesh, however, were another breed entirely. Of them, she was not so sure.
Her heart went out to her land and the Wakhanee. How could they defeat such a menace? They lived scattered, each loyal to his or her own kin and village. The Da’liesh were secretive and easily bought. Would they join a losing side? Her thoughts turned suddenly and inexplicably to Rhan. He was the best of all the Da’liesh, but after what he had been through how could she even hope he would aid them? Hope, she decided, was all there was. She sent her prayers quietly to the Wakhanee. She had never truly believed in the Elementals and what Raev had told her had only strengthened her own beliefs and deeply saddened her. When she was born, so long ago, many had still prayed to the Wakhanee though the Priests were all nearly dead.
"Pardon, Lady," Raev interrupted her thoughts with mock formality, "but why do you wall and guard your city so well? Those we have encountered appear...docile enough."
"Looks can be deceiving, Raev," she spat in warning.
"Good advice."
"Free my people and I will tell you." She nodded at those around her, then let out a hiss of breath in relief when they stretched suddenly tight limbs unsure of what had happened to them. Those who had not been trapped by Raev's spell had simply run to spread the word.
"We have the walls to protect the Council Elders from villagers angry at our Tribunal decisions, or, if ever the Elder races--- the Ghenosh, the Vhari'ni or the Quixh or even the Hch'ape turned against us. There is also the possibility, however, though remote I admit, of those from across the sea coming to take what we have. It has happened before now, in the New Age. It was very long ago, before even the Age of Gentleness. The rulers from the other side are both ferocious and devious and do not understand our system for governing our land. They are jealous of our closeness to the Elder races. Then, there is the Lan’har’et or Tahem’s giants, who hunt in winter." She noticed his confusion and added, "but I need not bother you with that. This city is a place where all can come for protection, if needed, and, until now, since Eldercity was built, it never has."
He smiled, a slit that split his cadavorish face in two. "Until now," he repeated.
Fiona ducked her head and shuddered.
"Should we meet with these Elder races?" Voar inquired of Raev as they set out for the guild.
"No, not yet, Voar, not unless it proves necessary. We have more than enough of these human peasants to choose from when we have need of sustenance. We only hope to secure enough gold and silver to buy our way back into an army at home. There are many on the Conclave who will join us, many who wish to be re-born. These Da’liesh might also help to form the powerful army we once had. We’ll see how many can be reborn into Orn’s service, though the Wakhanee admitted their numbers were few. We cannot remain among these chattel forever! So no, not unless they move against our authority. Theirs is a power we don’t yet know."
"You believe as Orn, that the ruling Masterhand can be bought against and we will return to Thamos from this place with wealth and an army?"
"I believe in many things. I believed in the existence of other worlds and was proven correct. I believe the Masterhand can be destroyed, his power crushed despite the Word, and if enough of these Da’liesh die and are reborn into Orn's army there will be no doubt. Thamos will be ours as should have been. Orn should be Masterhand!"
"You don’t worry about the consistency of the power of these Da’liesh once they’re off of Dlrow? I can tell Itar does," he added quickly when Raev whirled angrily toward him. "He is just afraid to ask Orn."
"That might be, but I believe, Orn, my master, knows best. We will see."

EIGHT

The dream

Rhan and Vero sat astride sturdy ponies, grimly facing the land before them. The sand swelled out in waves around pinnacles of rock, circling as a predator would prey. Scratching harshly, it eroded all in its path. The sandstone rock that led to the salt, coal and sandstone mines, rose up behind them like an emperor exiling the unwanted. Gray clouds scudded across a tenebrous sky, many and heavy as a pregnant mare. The wind was sharp, tinged with the aroma of salt and the faint but disturbing scent of rotting crops and decay.
Rhan looked up, narrowing his mismatched eyes against the sun. "Even with the clouds, it’s hotter than a red dragon's breath out here."
Vero grinned, but Rhan thought he looked a little sick. "Which way, Wizard? Our supplies are few and haste will be our friend."
Rhan essayed a grin of his own. "Are you joining me then, Thief?"
Vero appeared startled by the title, but responded warmly, "I would follow to a village and a soft bed, hot bath and good ale."
"Landsend. We have to cross this infernal corner of desert but their Roadhouse is worth the task!"
Vero kicked his mount into a trot. "Let's go then." He only smiled when Rhan surged ahead, commenting Vero did not know the way.
They rode all day under the hostile burn of the sun, well into night, finally stopping at the desert's edge where the first leg of a great forest spread out before them. The sound of a gurgling stream drew Rhan toward the water. His once bound arm ached too much for him to do any conjuring. Its muscles were shrunken away. Besides, he did not have his staff and there was little he could do without it, so any of his needs would have to be met physically. Missing his own robe, he fingered the filthy tunic he had been given at the mine, and hated it, the garments of the poorest of peasants or worse, a mercenary. At least they had returned his other belongings, his money, and he had his own sword, still stained with his brother’s blood, for he had refused to clean it.
Taking a lengthy step into the trees, he stopped dead, gulping air into frozen lungs as cold slammed into him, attacking his groin and moving up to squeeze his heart in an icy grip. On trembling legs he backed up, then tried again. Scuttling sideways, he found that to the West was cold, the kind of cold brought on only by evil beginnings. To the East was moderate. They would have to head south-east and forget about fresh water. He felt his heart chill with a cowardice he could not understand. He returned to Vero empty handed, still shivering.
"What happened? You look as if you've just seen a ghost, or...spirit?"
Rhan automatically spat to ward off evil. "I don't know about that." He eyed Vero curiously, wondering exactly what a ghost was, then shrugged it off. Vero had added spirit. "Something's wrong with the weather but I sense no...power. Strange...no power, only evil, and pain," he added surprised.
"The land's?"
"Yes…and the people’s." Rhan was surprised by the Thief’s acuity. He sniffed the fetid air, finding the aroma of decay nearly overwhelming. "We'll have to go Southeast and around to the village. I won't step into that diabolical cold," Rhan confessed, eyes raised to the dark sky. He gasped, clutching his chest. "There's no stars! The sky is empty!"
Vero lifted his gaze to the moonlit arc, a frown worrying his long, drawn face. "Could this have anything to do with your dream?"
"I don't know, but we need to find out. When we get to the village I'll have to get some crystal to capture the dream, see if I can understand it. For now, we'll drink warm, stale water and finish the dried meat," he added with little pleasure. "It’s not as if we’re not used to it."
Vero shuddered. "You go ahead. I'm fine."
"No wonder you're so thin," Rhan muttered as he watered the ponies, who noisily sucked up the stale water without hesitation. After placing on their feed bags, he returned to sit by Vero, who was busily building a fire. Rhan began to eat without enthusiasm, not minding his companion’s silence.
"So, you never said exactly what happened in the forest," Vero said once he had the fire burning brightly, grateful for the flint the guards at the mine had given them on their release.
"Nothing, it's not what happened or what I saw but what I sensed-- pain and evil. I felt cold, extreme cold, where it should be hot - like here."
"I see," Vero mused but did not add anything.
Rhan ducked his head, wrongly thinking Vero thought him a coward. The two men sat quietly in the darkness lit only by the pale light of their fire, consumed by their own thoughts, Rhan’s mind on the dream. He glanced at Vero, finding his face a study of concentration, and wondered what consumed the Thief’s thoughts so deeply. His own reflections flicked uneasily to the chaos of the tribunal that had imprisoned him. Ahlisha’s compelling face floated into his view and he hurriedly dug a stick into the fire, causing the flames to shoot up and burn the unwanted image from his mind.

NINE

Ahlisha

Ahlisha Tangmere'al's parents faced her across only the small distance of a table, though the gulf between them was miles wide, unmoved by the girl's pleas or the hostility in her eyes. They had been having the same discussion since she had raised her hand in farewell to Rhan as he was led away in chains, because of her. She shook her thick mane of kinky black hair and tilted her chin up in defiance, yellow eyes glittering dangerously.
"How can you say this to me now!" she demanded, voice quivering with rage. "I have spent my life planning for university. How can you just say, I can't go. Why, answer me why? You just keep saying over and over it's no good any more. I was raped, not taken willingly and a man has paid for my life." Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over, but she held them in check. "I owe it to Rhan to go on!"
"You are...," Ahlisha's mother, with crystalline silver skin as lovely as her daughter's, could not go on.
"Ruined," her father snapped harshly. His own snow white skin suffused with red.
"Ruined! I am ruined because I was taken against my will! How can you say that to me! That man was a pig. He deserved to die. But Rhan….poor Rhan."
"Yes, poor Rhan," her father, Toam, agreed. "You must carry on your life, which will show Rhan honor. Marry a young man from home. You're as fine a lass as any even with..." He faltered.
"With what," Ahlisha demanded hotly, "my ruined body!" She rose gracefully, standing proud and erect before them. "Does this look ruined?" she shouted.
"Keep your voice down, child!" her mother, Valera, warned. "It is hard enough to be Tangmere in the south without bringing notice to ourselves."
"Is that it? I am ruined because I am Tangmere and this is not my true home, though my father's blood courses through my veins as well as yours. It's too bad I didn't inherit his coloring, as well."
"That's enough Ahlisha. You apologize to your mother! Now!"
"Sorry," she mumbled sulkily.
"We are not saying these things to hurt you, child. We say them for your own good."
"I know, Da, but to be a bard, it is my calling, my life. To sing and learn is all I want. You know that, the entire village knows that, and the university accepted me after my audition."
"But Ahlisha, much has...happened since then. You know that to be a true bard you must take the oath of celibacy and as much as that pains us, we were willing to accept it. You would have been the first Tangmereian bard ever," she added proudly, "but it is an oath you can no longer take."
Ahlisha interrupted, rebuking her mother angrily. "Are you saying the university wouldn't look at the circumstances, mother?"
"They might," she answered thoughtfully, "but would you really feel comfortable? Would the bard’s power run as strong? And what about these creatures, the Daha'et? Travel, for the most part, is forbidden. That is the word on the road. It is a dangerous world right now, Ahlisha. How do we know the city is safe with those monsters about? I have heard…."
"This is necessary," Ahlisha interrupted again. Her youth did not invest in fear. "And what about the Daha'et? Do you plan on sending me to them as fresh meat?" She flinched but did not retract when her father's hand found her cheek in an ear splitting slap.
Toam stung as much from his movement as the pride and beauty of his willful daughter, her inner strength that of ten men despite her diminutive size and slender build. "I'm sorry, child. Come to me." He held out his arms and embraced her.
"Please, Ahlisha, we only want what's best for you. Stay here with us and raise a family. Be a good girl. It will be your eighteenth soon."
She peered up at him with her large, luminescent yellow eyes. "I am a good girl, Da, and if you and ma won't consider a bardship then at least consider the languages. I could study, travel, and there is no need for me to be celibate."
Toam sighed. "We'll see, child but I won't make promises. We have discussed this with Cerl and he agreed it would be best for you to remain. The city, as we pointed out, might not be safe at the moment. Your place seems to be here - with us."
Now that I'm ruined, she thought sadly, they will get what they always wanted, me, at home. Then defiance filled her and she knew that one way or another she would get out from beneath her parents thumb. They were just using this as an excuse to keep her, their only child, bound to their side. She could still sing and tell tales to the village in the meantime, though this was not as rewarding as a trip to Eldercity and a place among the scholars. She would not tell her parents of the strange dreams she’d been having of late.
"Ahlisha, you must be proud of your Tangmere heritage. I know it is hard to be different. We make the villagers nervous and you know, as I said, there has never even been a Tangmere bard, and under the circumstances….," her mother said and shook her head. "I have heard the names they call you, in fun I'm sure, but also out of fear. Ours is an ancient and powerful blood and whether mixed with your father's or not, at rite of age the cat in you will emerge. So when they call you names, be proud, don't flinch and don't wish so to be away from us."
Ahlisha bit down on her retort. She knew her parents meant well but their words as well as the occasional taunts of the other youths pained her. It was not the childish games that drove her. It was so much more. Could they not see? Maybe, she thought with a lift of spirit, when I turn eighteen I will change and eat them all up. Then she laughed aloud at her own foolishness. Despite the minor problems of fitting in, she loved her home and friends, her parents, too, but at the same time she knew that there was something in life she was meant to do and it meant being away. This need haunted her dreams, and if not university, then what?
******
"Now is the time for a show of strength. Their agreement to follow our policies, as you’ve pointed out, might well be false while they think of a way to oust us, to try to discover our numbers and strength," Orn said when the Daha'et had returned from spreading the news across Ourshare, and he had listened to the accounts of their commission. He turned to Raev. "You say you have purchased the aid of some mercenaries and rogue dragons, as you called them?"
"Yes, Orn. The dragons, much like the Riders in appearance, though of flesh and blood, are powerful. Few, however. They are outcasts from the Assembly for unsavory behavior their elders did not appreciate. They live on the wing, lust in the speed of the hunt and the exhilaration of destruction. Their own kin, unable to punish them in the usual ways, have bid them farewell with warnings never to return. If they harm the humans they will face death. They will not, however, kill them, unless forced too."
"Good, excellent. As for these Elder races, we will leave them be for now, or those across the sea. What we have is enough and let's hope we don't have to remain for more than a year's time. We can't. Look around you…..filth and squalor. By God, they’re practically barbaric." Orn's shifting face crinkled in distaste, his hands clenched into tight fists. "No, by then we should have built up enough of a supply of gold to buy many in the Conclave who might yet join us. With the Shadowwraiths and an army of Da’liesh we will be strong enough to return and wrest control from the Masterhand. I should rule Thamos! I should be Masterhand! These puny humans could look at themselves as heroes to our worthy cause, but I doubt they will. Many will die.
"We can start by sending out the Shadowwraiths and dragons, put some fear into the humans and bring a few savory treats back for ourselves. We do need to build up stocks and feed more often, or we’ll weaken, though Dlrow does not appear to alter our strength in any way it's so similar to Thamos…..And I hope that this will be the same for the Da’liesh on Thamos," he added thoughtfully, peering at Itar to let him know his own thoughts followed his friend’s and he had known of the other's worries.
"What of the Wakhanee?" Raev asked.
"They remain still as death, but I wish I could read into them. Ah well, there is no one that can help them on this world," he said and chuckled wheezily. He rubbed his hands together, still smiling, then ordered the Shadowwraiths, whose numbers, with the last stock of humans, had vastly increased, to his side. It was time to feed.

TEN

Landsend

Rhan and Vero reached the village two days later, after skirting the wall of frost. The village itself was as hot as the desert but under the caress of a gentle breeze. Vero, noticing the many offerings placed before the stone idols, eyed the tall, impressive stones nervously when they walked through the main village entrance. The circular stance of everything around him intrigued Vero. It was so different from his own city.
Rhan wiped the sweat from his brow and looked up, expecting to see a barren sky and the blazing sun. Instead, he found a storm marching across the expanse with the conflicting turmoil of grace and discord. He thought the sun appeared at the wrong angle. He shook the idea from his mind. "Looks like rain," he commented to Vero as they came to a stop outside the roadhouse cum tavern. When his companion did not answer, Rhan glanced his way and was unnerved by the pallor of the man.
Now tense, he peered suspiciously around the village, noticing several small signs of disorder. The washing, hung out to dry, appeared dusty and abandoned. The doors of the outhouses fell open on rusty hinges, airing flagrantly their unappetizing odor. The crops within the village were rotting and neglected. The air impended heavy, redolent with the aroma of rot and decay and the ponies in the livery appeared near death.
Dismounting, the two men stepped warily into the tavern. Rhan spat at its door, hoping to ward off any residue evil that threatened the place so much like his own home it brought tears to his eyes.
The tavern, like the street, was nearly empty but for the barkeep and two weary looking men who glanced up from a crude game board when they entered. Their eyes pinned Rhan with malice. The barkeep spoke little when they stepped up to order, only grumbling, "What's your pleasure?"
"Da!" A young lad burst into the room, shouting at the top of his lungs. "Da, now it's snowing outside and it's hotter than my tanned backside!"
"Go on with ya, Roary, it isn't!"
"I tell ya, Da, it is. Come see!" The boy was bouncing about in his excitement, twirling on stocky legs.
Vero and Rhan glanced at each other uneasily and followed the heavy set man outside. It was indeed snowing. The boy, dancing about in joy, stretched out his tongue to catch the swirling flakes while the barkeep ran to ring the town chime. Rhan peered up again and nudged Vero. "There, see, I was right, the sun, it hangs at the wrong angle. It's too far west!"
Vero nodded but did not comment. Rhan, facing Vero, thought he looked even worse than before.
The villagers gathered in wonder. "Marn," the barkeep cried, "it's worse and we prayed to the Wakhanee and the Elementals as you bid. We're alone man. the Masters have abandoned us. What'll we do?"
Marn shook his shaggy head sadly. "There's nothin' we can do now. Soon we'll have to send the levy promised to the Daha'et. It looks as if we'll have at least a year of strangeness and strife, or more," he added morosely, doubting the strangers would leave after that, but wanting to believe what Raev had said.
Rhan, after steadying Vero, who had suddenly pitched forward, stepped toward Marn. "The Daha'et? Who are they?"
"How can you not know, Da’liesh?" Marn demanded suspiciously as his eyes raked Rhan over before pinning him with a glacial stare. "We expect your kind to protect us."
"I have been away."
Marn, noticing the brand, replied unkindly, "And you're not needed here."
Rhan stuck the offending hand behind his back and tried to hold his anger in check. "Please, a bath, a meal. We'll pay well and with our drink, perhaps you can tell a tale of what ails a land that snows under a summer's sun, which hangs askew in its sky."
The villagers looked up and gasped.
"He's right," the barkeep cried.
The midday chimes went off and Marn sighed, relenting. "No matter on this day. Come with me, I'll tell ya a tale that'll make your toes curl and your heart shudder."
A raven swooped down gracefully amid the gathering to land on the well, cawing miserably. The bird was gaunt and haggard. Rhan winced to see such a proud thing so diminished. It flicked a beady eye of recognition at the Da’liesh, who nodded in return.
"Get him water," Marn shouted as the bird flapped its wings, disheartened, preparing to depart. "we need all the luck we can get.
"Raven," he called to the bird, "if you truly are the eye and ear to the Masters and the Da’liesh, tell them all of our strife." With that he turned and led the two travelers into the tavern while the townspeople rushed forward to assist the Raven, hoping its appearance would bring luck.
The bell that hung over the tavern door rung dully as they passed through, each man spitting before entering. Vero shuddered with distaste but followed suit. "What's the bell for," he asked. "I noticed it last time."
"You don't ward spirits?" Rhan glared at him suspiciously, but Vero only shook his head. The Da’liesh remained unconvinced of Vero's integrity, but answered regardless. Something about Vero was wrong, but he had not been far enough north to argue… yet.
"It warns of the approach of a spirit, or ghost as I think you called it. At least I think now that’s what you meant." Rhan, remembering the strange word Vero had used earlier, raised his brow questionably at his new companion, who nodded. "The spirit glass," he pointed to a long, colorful blown glass tube that shone in rainbows even in the tavern's muted light, "catches it if it gets in. Don't tell me northerners are unaware that Soulstealer misses the odd soul and it wanders free for good or ill." Rhan narrowed his eyes and glared at Vero. "I've met other northerners."
Vero dropped his gaze from Rhan's hostile orbs. He wished to ask more, but now was obviously not the time.
"A word of advice then, Northerner, never stare into the eyes of the newly dead unless you wish to replace them. That’s all you need to remember, something your kin should have taught you as a child. I’ll have to visit this Foreland someday." His eyes challenged Vero, who could only look away.
"Sit down," Marn called, impatiently, while he waited for the barkeep to pull their ales, "and I'll tell ya a sorry tale. I'm surprised the mine people or Hch'ape didn't say or warn ya but perhaps word has not spread that far - yet.
"...and so," he finished quite some time later, "we wait for a miracle and pray."
Vero and Rhan, despite the grimness of the story, had tucked into the meals placed before them enthusiastically while listening to the bear-like Marn's fine, timbre voice. Neither had eaten so well in some time.
"My father's a scribe and historian," Rhan announced proudly around a mouthful of food, "who knows much of the Wakhanee. There must be a way to stop these Daha'et. My dream! Do you have any crystal?"
"Not me, but Rae might." Marn motioned the barkeep over.
"I do." The heavy set man nodded to Rhan’s question while he finished polishing a silver mug.
"May I have it?"
Rhan noticed the man’s flicker of annoyance. "Nothing’s free."
"Of course. I'll buy it. I need to take it with me," he added, his eyes resting on Vero, who picked at the food on his plate, choosing only the vegetables, cheese and bread, which he ate ravenously, while leaving the juicy slab of prime beef.
"Right, I'll fetch it."
Rhan thanked the man and placed gold on the table for the room and meal, then silver for the shard of crystal, grateful the guards at the mine had returned all of his money and belongings. He had heard tales of others not so fortunate. He fingered his well made sword and felt even more thankful, despite his brother’s blood.
Once Rae had departed, Rhan spoke to Marn. "Will you have enough food to last a while? Your crops look done for…. mind from what you say and we've seen, there might be areas of Ourshare that are thriving."
Marn shook his head sadly. "True. We can't hold out long though. I hope to travel to Portbay soon, see how they've managed. We might be able to purchase and trade enough stock to take us through winter, when, or if, it comes."
He brightened visibly, however, when a lovely little cherub of a girl charged into the room and flung herself into her father's lap, her wide lips dimpling into a smile. "Did ya see the snow?" she demanded wide eyed and innocent.
"Yes we did," her father answered solemnly, then with a pat on the rump sent her on her way.
"Don't give in," Rhan said. "Send the Daha'et nothing for as long as possible. I believe my dream is the answer to this enemy."
"That was my plan anyway. For better or for worse, they'll not have my child!" Marn admitted, his voice tight. "I wonder at their numbers, few enough came here, though from their show of power, few might be all that's needed."
Rhan grunted a noncommittal response while he studied the crystal Rae placed in front of him, a good piece, thick wedged with a flat face. "My thanks, Rae," he called to the retreating barkeep. The man nodded stiffly. Rhan turned back to his companions and the three men talked long into the night, oblivious of the filling bar. Rhan fired question after question at Marn, trying to make up for the loss of the last year and build some kind of understanding of the Daha'et.
After Marn finally departed for home in the small hours of the morning, a heavy depression settled over Rhan, tugging at his heart. Who was he, lowly criminal, murderer of kith and kin, to believe he could help anyone? He stared morosely at Vero and wondered why the man had befriended him. Raising his hand, he ordered another ale. Vero watched him silently, lost in his own sullen thoughts. As the silence between the two lingered, Rhan pulled on the last of his ale and whistled for the next. Vero began to eye him with some concern. "Perhaps you should slow down."
"And why," Rhan asked with a faint slur, "should I do that? My world is falling apart and there is no longer a place in it for me."
"That's the ale talking, Rhan," Vero returned, shocked by the man's sudden loss of composure and change of heart.
"No, Vero, that's my broken heart. Who am I kidding that I can help this land?" He took a long draught of his ale and slammed the mug down to signal for another. The barkeep eyed him warily. He did not want trouble, but promptly brought it over, raising a questioning eye at Vero, who shrugged.
They all looked up when the door banged open and three filthy, road foul mercenaries entered the room. Their eyes seemed to search the now busy tavern for a victim, lighting quickly on Rhan.
"Hey Da’liesh," one taunted. "It seems to me that's where we can find most of our so called protectors, that is if we can find them at all, with their faces in the bottom of a jug." Laughter broke out among the mercenaries and a few of the regulars.
Rhan stumbled to his feet.
"Gonna fight us. Where's that power now mighty Da’liesh? I'll tell you where, saturated in booze." This met with more laughter.
Rhan swayed on his feet. "I don't need power to fight the likes of you," he sputtered after a wet belch as he fumbled drunkenly for his sword.
The mercenaries stared at him in distaste. "Save it for another. I won't cut down a drunken, low life criminal."
Rhan stared at his hand and broke into violent sobs. Vero stepped smartly in between them, announcing enough was enough, and led his friend away. "He's right, Rhan," he drawled softly into his ear, "you won't find your answer in the bottom of a jug." Vero shook his head and guided Rhan to his room, still stunned by his friend’s rapid changes in mood, a thing of which he was quickly growing wary.
After he had sobered some, while he lay in bed still feeling sorry for himself but more determined, Rhan placed the crystal carefully above his head. He then chanted a short verse. He ran the withered fingers of his left hand along the tattooed eye on his face then trailed down, following the path of glyphs, hoping his strength, without his staff and the lingering effects of the ale, enough for such a minor spell. Spent, he drifted into a dream filled sleep.
He awoke in the morning anxiously grabbing for the crystal. The dream was there, caught like an unwary bug in a spider's web. He watched it over and over until feeling, with a mounting horror, he understood. It was all true, all that Marn had said and much, much more. And maybe he, lowly criminal or not, could do something about it after all.

ELEVEN

Though the sun was barely up, Rhan knocked loudly on Vero's door, arousing the sleeping man. "I have it," he cried before Vero, wrapped in a woolen blanket to ward off dawn's chill, had even pulled the door open.
"What?" Vero, his brain still addled with sleep, mumbled groggily.
"The dream-- look!" Rhan proudly showed it to Vero. "The Wakhanee need my help. The Daha'et have harmed them somehow. My Da was right, it’s the Wakhanee," he crowed. "Not the Elementals. They are in need our prayers, our strength. I’ll retrieve my staff, find Taoe, then go to the Ghenosh, though that part of the dream’s not so clear, as you can see." He pointed to a specific scene as the dream played past. "But it appears it'll all be explained when we arrive. Ahlisha, that Tangmere girl I saved, or what appears to be her, is here, see," he pointed again, then shook his head in confusion. "But I don't understand that either. And there are two others that look like...yourself and Taoe. No three, there’s another woman. She’s not clear at all, and something else in this next scene-- a shadow?"
"It appears as though the chains that hold our world together have been severed by these Daha'et. The dream also seems to center around the dead. The Ghenosh point toward the ocean, but it's hazy-- unclear. Dragons follow that, which can only mean the Assembly. Behind the entire scene are the Dragonshoard Mountains. But….see here, the chain of power, of sorcery, isn’t broken. The land might well be in chaos, but the Da’liesh still prosper. Our power is intact!"
"Ah," Vero nodded in understanding. He watched the scenes displaying Ahlisha play past, and wondered what manner of woman she was. Dragons.... His body vibrated when they paraded across the crystal landscape of the dream.
"I must go home, see my father---get my staff and book so I can come to the aid of my land!" Rhan vowed earnestly, his mood suddenly high with confidence.
Vero looked grim. "I’ll join you, of course, Rhan, as it appears I must." The Da’liesh eyed Vero questioningly but did not argue. He would take any help he could get, thief or warrior. Besides, Vero did appear to be in the dream.
Over breakfast Rhan showed the fleeting images to Marn, then ordered him to silence. The Home Elder agreed and, taking Rhan's hand in his own, wished him well on his quest while promising fervently to pray only to the Wakhanee in Landsend.
"May your feet find firm ground," he called to the backs of the two men when they departed. "And remember, you must report to the Elders in Eldercity."
Rhan stiffened at the reminder and gazed up at an empty sky crowded only by heat, which cruelly reminded him why he was defending his land. He called his thanks to Marn, who had met the men at the local wares shop and generously supplied both with clean tunics to wear beneath their mail shirts, leather breeches and brais, as well as full packs.
The town chimes rang into the thick heat. Marn had gathered his people and would tell them what they must do to aid the cause against the Daha'et.
"I want to go home the quickest way possible, which mean's going through the Giant's forest. But Marn mentioned the land is frozen there, and the Lan'har'et hunts at will." Rhan sighed and changed the subject. "What do you make of these beasts, the riders, that Marn spoke of?"
Vero looked off into the distance. "I'll know when I see one." Sniffing the air around them, trying not to think of giants, he asked, "Is the sea near here?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know anyone that's traveled across?"
"I've known a few, and glad to be home they were. They told harrowing tales, saying the cities over there were large and crowded, filled with thieves and…" Rhan stopped, his face burning. "…criminals, such as us," he finished brutally with fists clenched at his sides. When the pony beneath him whinnied and shied, he realized he had been squeezing it in his anger and loosened his grip. Fortunately, there was no where for it to run through the tightly woven trees of the forest. They had long left the road, wishing to be well out of sight.
Vero laughed so hard at Rhan's discomfiture that the other couldn't help joining in. "Your status pains you?" he finally asked as he gained control of himself.
"Shames me, my family."
Vero sighed. "I can understand that, but the reasons for your actions were acceptable, surely. Just."
"I suppose, but does that make it right? A life is a life, and I took one, not in defense of my own."
"But in ward of another, surely?" Vero interrupted with some heat.
Rhan turned to him, surprised at the other’s anger in his defense. "I don't know that he would have killed Ahlisha after he used her. He might or might not, and I only believe he killed my wife, or is to blame for Sesha’s death," he reminded Vero, turning his head away. "I have no proof, only Jilley's bitter word."
"And your wife's death," Vero murmured sadly, realizing Rhan had not yet told him how the woman died. "Rhan, rape should be punished, just as surely as murder." His listener only grunted.
They walked quietly beneath hanging pines, listening to the trilling calls of the birds who seemed to be all around them. The sun, a dancing spotlight for an array of enchanting, vibrant flowers, dappled the forest floor. On closer inspection, however, these already showed signs of early death in the cooling, chill breeze that cruelly stroked them in its attempt to dispatch summer.
"It's growing colder," the thief commented into the lengthy silence that had followed their last conversation
"We expected that. Marn’s gear should keep us warm enough." He patted the pack that sat behind his saddle over the pony's ample rear, then added with a sigh, "I wish I had my staff and could call to the ravens."
"Why?" Vero pictured the ravaged, gaunt bird he had seen in Landsend.
Rhan glanced at him, distrust flooding his eyes once more. Vero stared back guilelessly, only wishing he could ask if all the wizards had the same mismatched, penetrating eyes. "Ravens are the eye of not only the…" He paused, almost saying Elementals. "…Wakhanee but of the Da’liesh. We can use them as scouts, sending them out ahead to explore the land for us, but I need my staff to help draw the power."
"What's that?" A hair raising howl, haunting and lovely, escaped into the dusk.
"At dusk he cries, his hackles rise, to death, the night does swallow," Rhan murmured quietly, leaving Vero shivering. Rhan grinned at him. "Wolves. Just wolves hunting. Now don’t tell me you have no wolves in the north."
Vero ignored the jibe. "It's getting dark, should we pitch camp? Are we far from this giant and his lake?"
"No," Rhan spoke shortly. "You certainly don’t know much about the south, or the north for that matter." His eyes challenged Vero, who only mumbled he’d never been south of Raven’s Eye City before. Rhan did not trust Vero but didn’t know where the problem lay. The man seemed true enough, yet the questions he asked left Rhan uneasy. "We won't go near the lake, just across the edge of their winter land," he added as he climbed down from his pony and tied it off so it could feed. Vero blinked rapidly, his only display of his shock at the thought of giants.
Vero busied himself with the fire and tried to ignore Rhan and the images of Giants he had never seen. The imagination, he knew, was often worse than the reality. He moved away when Rhan trudged over and dropped to the ground beside him. "Why don’t you ever eat meat?" he asked quietly, but Vero didn’t like the glint in his silver eye.
"Stomach upset, you know, nothing more." He patted his flat stomach for effect. "I'm sure I'll be back on my feed in no time." He tried for a jovial mood but failed. They sat in silence for the remainder of the night, Rhan watching his dream and thinking about his lost wife.
The morning found them still restrained in their dealings with one another. They packed up quietly, shivering in the chill dawn air that darted through ponderous snow clouds illuminated by a summer sun still ineptly trying to perform it’s task. Walking slowly beneath the sweeping, prickly, branches of the pine trees, they tried to find a suitable track. Vero, at wit's end, finally cried, "Is there no easier way!" His words, however, were cut short by an icy blast of wind and the stumbling of his pony, who had suddenly stepped into knee deep snow. "My God," he muttered angrily.
"What did you say?" Rhan demanded.
"It's just a saying from my village," he returned furiously. "Quit questioning me on my every word. We are from different areas."
"But still the same land!" Rhan, his forehead wrinkled in question and eyes dripping with distrust, raised heavy brows at him.
"Leave it," Vero shouted in return. "Let’s deal with the here and now. How are we to get through this!"
"We'll have to lead the ponies. They won't be able to carry us and the packs," Rhan retorted through tight, angry lips. Donning his thick cloak, he ordered Vero to do the same.
"And just what do you plan to do if we see this, or rather these, Lan'har'et?"
Rhan suddenly grinned. "I prepared a special drink for our friends, the giants, when we were in the village. They love warm drinks. Didn’t you wonder why I bought the herbs, when we picked up our supplies? We'll just put them to sleep and be on our way. They are extremely curious creatures, stupid too but very powerful. Were I to attempt to kill one with my power I would be dead before I lifted my staff. And, once asleep they pose no threat so they are left, it is always the way."
"I didn't know you prepared anything! That easy, is it?"
"That easy," Rhan grumbled angrily. "Or I could feed you to them."
"What was that?"
"Nothin', just forget it. Let's get on or we'll never make the city."
"The city? I thought we were going to your village?"
"You heard Marn. We have to report our travels. I want to speak with the Elders anyway, tell them of my dream and that there is hope--- that they must pray to the Wakhanee!"

Vero nodded but did not respond. He also wished to meet the Council of Elders.
Falling to his knees, Vero yanked hard on the pony’s reins to heave himself upright. He flinched when the poor animal squealed in pain.
"Hey!" Rhan snapped as he expertly straightened the reins and took control of the pony from Vero, leading both animals. Vero, though ashamed, was more than relieved to have both hands free.
"Do you really believe these Daha'et will know if we report to the Elders? You know nothing of them or the size of the force they bring, their powers. It's all second hand news to us." Vero secretly had his doubts.
"I believe in Marn's fear and as I’ve already said, I want to speak to the Elders anyway. It's only a short journey home from Eldercity. We can take the ferry across the Highcrest, then two days at the most to Waterside." Rhan continued to look straight ahead, not offering his companion any friendly overtures as he trudged discontentedly through the heavy snow, dragging both laden ponies behind him.
Vero felt very small as he watched his companion’s powerful body force a path through the forest.
"We're near the lake now. It's to the north of us. This is usually a beautiful place in the summer," Rhan added, remembering Vero had never been there before. "Rich with flowers and prey, birds, and fish in the lake. I sometimes come here with my father. But now… now the Lan'har'et will be able to live year round in this frozen wasteland the Daha'et have created instead of retreating to the far north. They can hunt and kill with no one to stop them if the deep freeze continues."
"Do they only eat men?"
"No, but we are their favorite dish. They care nothing for any living being. They are the only immortals among us. How can you not know of their existence? Is the south so far from the north?"
"My family was very protective, I’m afraid," Vero admitted with some embarrassment. "They hoped to keep me at home - forever." His voice turned wistful with the mention of his home. "I was not meant to travel."
"Tsk!" Rhan glanced at him with a disgusted pity. "What silliness."
Vero spoke calmly, too calmly. "Is that one now? I hope so because my feet are freezing and whether I'm to be dinner or sit by a warm fire and have dinner, might not matter at this point."
Rhan stared dismally at the approaching, lengthy stride of the giant. Planting his feet firmly in the giant’s path, he pulled the flask that carried the warmed drink from his pack. It was no longer hot but warm and pleasantly spiced enough to entice the beast. "Ah food," it called in a tongue barely recognizable as trade.
"Yes," Rhan returned, the tremor in his voice hidden under false jocularity, "for you." He held out the drink, but the giant, twenty hands high, if one, with matted dark hair and razor sharp teeth, only laughed. "I don't want drink, little man, I want food." With that he lifted Rhan from the ground and prepared to consume him. "Da’liesh taste best."
Vero, heaving a heavy sigh, watched the entire scene with distaste. "Meat is so bad for you," he called up to the giant, who had not yet noticed him.
"You, I will eat next so be quiet and wait your turn."
"I do not wish to be eaten but you wish to have a drink." Rhan watched in wonder as his companion waved his arm and the giant dropped him to the ground.
"A drink."
"Yes, a drink, so refreshing, and Rhan has made it specially for you. Go ahead."
The giant dropped a hand the size of a shovel down and grasped the flask from Rhan, taking a large swallow. Sitting down heavily, he took another hearty sip before mentioning that he felt tired. He was quite enjoying the warm, heady brew and was asleep in no time. "Kill him," Vero ordered.
"I can't kill him, he's asleep," Rhan argued while brushing the snow from his pants. "The Da’liesh vow only to kill in defense. If I kill him with power, " he explained, realizing now that Vero could not possibly be from Ourshare or even Dlrow, "which I doubt I could without my staff anyway, I will lose my left arm and never practice sorcery again. If I kill him with my sword, I'm a murderer, twice over. It is just not done!"
Vero crossed his slender arms in agitation, thin face pinched in disgust, and argued reasonably, "He was going to kill you. Very well, leave him to kill others. Let's go before he wakes up."
Rhan knew that Vero was right, but what he was saying went against all he had been taught and believed in. Without a backward glance, he followed Vero away from the sleeping giant.
Once they had put a safe distance between themselves and the lake, Rhan demanded some answers. "Who are you! How did you make him drink?"
Vero blew out a stream of breath into the frozen air, rubbing gloved hands together to get the blood flowing into his numb fingers. "Let's at least start a fire. It's nearly dark and it’s a long tale I have to tell." And unfortunately, I might have brought death to us both.

TWELVE

Orn sat proudly upon his throne held within a yawning cavern that loomed directly above the crippled Wakhanee. He had fashioned it for himself from the very rock wall that surrounded him. He gripped the arms of the seat until they cracked. Vero! Vero, yes, the Masterhand was here. Orn could sense him, his power-- their kinship. No, it could not be. He would say nothing to the others, yet - until he was sure.
******
"Oh well." Vero wheezed out a thick, heavy breath as he pictured the stern, uneasy eyes of the Conclave upon him. "At least I can ask my questions honestly now. My name is Vero Ap'alean and I am the man you will hate most in your life."
Rhan interrupted bitterly. "I much doubt that."
Vero ignored him. "It is my fault, you see, that the Daha'et are here. I exiled them, my right to," he added defensively, "as I am the ruler of Thamos, and Masterhand of the Wizard's Conclave. Unfortunately, we gave no thought as to where they would go. We did not believe any other worlds existed. He’s my brother you see, Orn, the leader of the Daha’et." He glanced at Rhan, wondering how this would affect him, but his face was a study of attention.
Vero sagged, body and soul. "Let me tell you about my home, about Thamos and how this all came to pass." Rhan moved closer to the crackling fire, more for comfort than warmth, but did not interrupt. He would not have known what to say.
"Thamos is a world, like Dlrow but far away. When you look up at the stars, Thamos could be one of the lights you see. It is a planet ruled by magic, or as you would say, sorcery, and by God."
Rhan’s face screwed up in confusion.
"God, to us, is like your Wakhanee to you." Seeing Rhan’s face clear, he continued, "The Daha'et, which simply means death's masters, began with my brother, Orn. At the death of his great friend, Itar. Orn used necromancy to restore his life but in so doing, he had to take the life of another. The black arts are forbidden on Thamos. As certain Wizards, members of the Conclave, neared death, they went to Orn, asking to be reborn into his service. He submitted easily to their requests, his plan clear, to start a war and destroy me and the Wizards’ Conclave, to rule Thamos in my stead, as he felt should have been. Only one brother, you see, might be chosen to rule. It pained him from the beginning that I was chosen over him. Our bloodlines equal, it came down to nothing more than...personality, and Machore's gentle persuasion. Machore is the most senior of our Conclave. The war and following trial took a terrible toll on my world, and an even greater personal toll on me."
Vero was quiet for a moment, remembering, but Rhan did not push him, he knew the Masterhand would speak when ready. "They killed peasant after peasant, even slaves, to feed their hunger as their ranks swelled. Finally, Orn had Itar, murder...I can offer no better term, Orn himself, then bring him back so that they could come against us with their army of dead. War had begun. Many good wizards died in that battle." Vero hesitated, he did not yet wish to share with Rhan how the battle had been fought. "After a lengthy fight, my brother was captured along with the five remaining Daha’et and brought before the Conclave." Vero fell silent, closing his eyes as though reliving that terrible moment in his past. Rhan’s eyes reflected Vero’s pain as he thought of the Tribunal he had gone before.
"I cannot, you see, kill him. It would destroy my world. Nor, God forgive me, did I want too! The war was over. I could kill no more. I’m pathetic really." Seeing Rhan’s confusion, he tried to explain. "The Word, the missive of my God says that I, the Masterhand, am forbidden to kill any bloodkin and no Thamosian can kill me or my kin. To do so is to bring down the wrath of God. So, after much debate, we exiled them rather than risking Thamos. No one but God, you understand, can kill the ruling blood."
"I should have at least killed his followers, but we thought Orn would die and they with him, that there would be no where for them to go. It has been ages since the time hiways were traveled. We closed them in fear after none of those who traveled ever returned. We believed ourselves to be utterly alone in the universe….Alone with our God." He bowed his head. "We were wrong."
"So, after the dreams came…yes, I too dreamed of your Wakhanee and Orn, I went to the Conclave and asked what I should do…and here I am. I was sent to guide you, Rhan, to give you the knowledge you require to destroy Orn and the Daha’et. Even were I able to kill Orn, I could not kill all of the Daha’et. I am only one. I cannot risk my people or my family. I cannot go against my God or the Word. You, however, can. Thamos is not your world and the Wakhanee are your Gods. I can see no reason why I cannot show you the way, as long as I do not commit the act. This is my fault, and it is my duty to help. My brother must die a true death, but not at my hand or that of any Thamosian." Vero’s voice cracked. His gaze fell on Rhan then dropped in shame. Were they only cowards?
"My people have trusted me to stop Orn from returning, and to aid you. He only wishes to rebuild his army and the finances to return home and defeat me. He cares nothing for the risk to Thamos. He is already dead to us and his God." His voice shook.
"I am sorry, Rhan. I wish I could tell you more…or do more but I cannot. I have a family to protect." He would not tell Rhan the full truth. It would be too much for the man, or so he reasoned. He would do as the Conclave had ordered. He would protect his world at the cost of Rhan’s if necessary.
"Wait." Rhan, trying to process too much information, interrupted, "You have no Elders?"
"No," Vero was surprised at the question he had chosen to ask first, "only the Conclave and me rule Thamos. Our politics appear vastly different, indeed."
"Please, go on. You say you exiled them, so how is it they came to be here?" Rhan waited patiently, though inside he trembled and fought for control.
"The time hiways I mentioned. The Daha’et left Thamos, six in all. They took their time riders, entered static sleep, opened the worm holes and flew until they came on Dlrow. The riders on reading the power flowing from your land would have woken them to the splendor of Dlrow." Vero grew silent again and Rhan stirred restlessly beside him.
"You say they feed? How?"
"On peasants, as I’ve said, Da’liesh here if possible. Children…are favored as their soul energy is strong." He shuddered then glanced at Rhan’s confused, shocked face and realized that was not the answer he had wanted. "It is the white energy they need, you see, to be turned dark by their vileness. They must inhale the soul’s essence. Some will die, their emptiness banished to oblivion. Others become the slave creatures known as Shadowwraiths while others are reborn as the Daha'et. I'm sure we'll see one soon, a Shadowwraith I mean. I know they took many with them that we had not yet destroyed, and I'm sure the Daha’et have already fed here. They must, or lose their power and fade away. That energy must be constantly restored, such is the chain of darkness. The hostage souls are why their, the Daha’et’s, features shift. You will rarely, if ever, see their true face. These creatures were once my friends," he added sadly.
Despite the warmth of the fire, Rhan shivered. He bent his head. How can you defeat those already dead? His heart raged against Vero, who had brought this calamity down on his people, but only for a moment. Who was he, after all, murderer of his own brother, to chastise Vero? He spoke at last, with little accusation in his voice. He heard Vero's breath come out in a hiss of relief. "Why are you here then? How can you help us-- alone?"
"This is my fault. Orn is my brother and I am Masterhand. All decisions in the end remain with me. But, there are laws even I, chosen by my God, must follow or I can be struck down, but only by God. So says the Word. I should have attempted to have Orn executed by one other than me. Some said it could be done, despite the admonishments of the Word. I could have at least had his followers killed, but there had been so much killing, so much, Rhan and, we believed they would die. It is a terrible thing to fear the destruction of your world. I know you do not understand."
"That is not so hard to understand."
Vero’s face reddened. "I’m sorry, Rhan. I might have already brought our death by using my power. It has opened the way to my kinsmen. Orn will sense my presence and will know that you move against him with my aid. I must not use my power or guide in any way other than words and knowledge, lest we both die and both worlds are destroyed."
What he had done with the giant alone would, if nothing else, certainly make Orn aware that he was on the planet. He would not make that mistake again unless there was no other way. He had a wife, children to think of. No matter. Now what he did he would cause pain and fear for someone. It was a terrible burden to bear.
"How do you kill the dead? Bringing the dead back to life goes against all I hold value in."
Vero nodded but still could not bear to tell Rhan what was to come. "As it does our kind. Necromancy is the greatest of all crimes…..They can be killed, Rhan," Vero said quietly. "Your Ghenosh, as the dream shows, will guide our way. It might be very different on your world than mine, and we must allow them to guide us. I know I used my own magic - sorcery, to aid you against the giant but every time I do, Orn will sense my presence a little more and I will be discovered and, therefore, so will you. That, must not happen. I cannot defeat them. Only you can. I am here to give you the knowledge and tools you need, to help if I can. This is not my world, but yours."
Rhan nodded, and Vero heaved a sigh relieved that the Da’liesh seemed to accept what he had said, for now, but did Vero himself accept it.
"These Riders, what are they?"
"They're mechanical." Seeing Rhan's confusion, he explained, "Not alive, built by our hand out of metal and machinery-- like your paddleboats move on steam."
Rhan nodded, awed, longing to see one, his mind sweeping over Marn's description.
"They were built once we discovered how to open the worm holes to the time hiways. We believed we could travel to other lands by way of them, but as I said no one returned. After that, the Riders were branded evil by my ancestors, as going against the Word. The hiways were closed. We believed, arrogantly, we were the only life in all the universe." He laughed bitterly. "The audacity! Those who never returned most likely remained on the lands they found."
"So….you are very powerful." He didn’t even want to think about other worlds.
"Our powers seem vastly...different. Mine are inside myself. All born within the royal lines of Thamos hold magic. All the members of the Conclave are of royal lineage." He eyed Rhan again sensing the man’s confusion. "Royal meaning, natural born rulers, by blood. My family order is of the highest. Other families become part of the Conclave and Lords of small areas, but Ap'alean's, by God’s will, rule over all."
Vero yawned and stretched, mumbling, "I don't fully understand your sorcery either, which seems to be borrowed or rather, purchased. Oh, Rhan, my world is beautiful and I miss it greatly, but like you, I am faced with a less than corrigible brother."
Rhan, thinking that a major understatement, threw another branch on the fire that melted the snow around them before asking curiously, "Why don't you eat meat?"
"Too much meat deadens the magic in us, as too many spirits do in you." Vero shuddered and pursed his pale, thin lips in disgust, making his nose appear even more beakish than ever, "And blood turns it black. Besides, it is repulsive to eat a living thing! Orn, my brother, always hated beasts of any kind, even those that walk on two legs, and though we are vegetarians from birth, I would catch him as a child, killing and eating small animals. He used to taunt me with the blood, the flesh." Vero turned away, his face a sickly green hue, saying quietly, "He never ate enough to kill the magic, only to taint its source. Tasting even small amounts of blood turns white power to black."
Rhan could well understand the childhood trauma that tinged Vero’s pallor with green and deepened his beliefs. "He sounds great."
Vero smiled at Rhan’s tone. "You are a good man, Rhan. Now, tell me of your ... Da’liesh."
Rhan calmed, letting his questions of this God and his Word go for the moment and thought about how to describe a thing that he had never explained before. He began slowly. "All that are born Da’liesh are marked by the silver and blue eye."
"Ah!" Vero murmured relieved that question had finally been answered. The mismatched eyes still unnerved him.
"And all are left handed. Only the opposite side of the mind can open the power and use it. Only left handers use enough of that side of their brain. The eye in the circle represents the oak. It is traced to attract the power." He pointed to the tattoo on his right cheek. "Then scrolling is done, depending on the spell. The staff is used to direct the power. Trace the eye, then plant the staff, then chant the spell. Most spells are memorized, but I do have a book for dreams, spells, recipes, and so on. The staff, of course, is oak, the vessel through which the power is passed to those chosen to receive it."
"Seems very complex," Vero commented, wondering how Orn thought he could make an army out of Da’liesh to return to Thamos. Who knew how their powers would react on another planet or in the throes of necromancy? Vero even had doubts about his own while on Dlrow, though it seemed strong thus far.
Rhan, tight lipped, continued, "If I kill out of defense, with sorcery, I'm fine. If I murder, I lose my left arm and therefore all ability, but only if I use my power to murder. If I use too much at once, Mch'Raash will take me."
"What?"
"How do you speak our tongue anyway?" Rhan asked.
"We can speak any heard, even if only for a moment, but some words slip past us."
Rhan nodded acceptance though his heart bred a coveting jealously over the ease and potency of Vero's power. "Mch'Raash is sorcery toxicity. The body's poisoned by it."
"Ah, I see, as its a foreign object," Vero mused, "go on."
"There’s not much to tell. At fifteen years of age, we are taken to a sacred place and left blindfolded 'till the Mentors come and take us to their hall. There we are taught the uses and potency of the power--the problems as well as expectations of us, and either return to our families and the land's use, trained or, we never return to this life. No one, if it could even be found, ever returns to the hall. The penalty is death, and the Mentors are never seen outside it. Our power is limited and controlled by the masters--Wakhanee I suppose," he added belatedly. Rhan paused, then said softly, "It seems to me your power is much the stronger."
"So it seems," Vero stated arrogantly.
"So, how are we to defeat these Daha'et?" his morose tone tugged at Vero’s heart. He did not want to lie but.... Could he honestly say for certain he knew?
"I don't know, exactly. Not here at any rate, but the Ghenosh do. You might not like their answer, though. Are they the same as you?"
Rhan shook his head. "Not at all. Like the Vhari'ni, the Hch'ape and the Quixh, they are Elder races, and have little to do with us."
Vero nodded, thinking of the nasty Hch’ape Bauk who had tormented Rhan in the mine. He rubbed his temples to relieve the monstrous headache that had begun to hammer behind his eyes. "Let's leave it there for now. We need rest. Are we far from the city?"
"No, Eldercity is only a short way, but you must have seen it to be placed in the mines."
"Well…" Vero reddened slightly. "As a matter of fact, I didn't. I just let my dream and my senses lead me to you, then, showed up for work. The Hch'ape asked few questions and the men in control took no notice."
"But the brand…"
"An illusion only, too small for Orn to sense. " Vero paused. "One more quick question. Do you commune with other Da’liesh?"
"We can read each other," Rhan returned warily.
"Can you close your mind to them. Many might be bought by the Daha'et, or even reborn into their service. The Daha'et will need aid in controlling Ourshare and help, more than the Shadowwraiths, if they are to feed enough." If they are to return home.
Rhan tightened his lips and balled his fists in anger, but he knew it was a possibility he had to accept. "It can be done." He could not help the coldness that crept into his voice.
"Sleep well, Rhan, my friend, and thank you."
"For what?" he asked harshly.
"For not persecuting me for a mistake that might destroy your life."
"I am the last person, Vero on Dlrow, who has the right to persecute another." Rhan glanced toward the sky and gasped. On this night there were so many stars they blotted out the moon, eating at its glow like swarming piranha. The clouds lay hidden behind the sparkling curtain, wasted or fled.
As Rhan drifted off under the burning lantern of the stars, he knew he would use his power to commune one final time to call to his brother Da’liesh. Few though they were, he would see who would stand with the people and who would join their enemies.

THIRTEEN

Morning found the laden ponies struggling through the dense snow, bearing the added weight of their riders. Heavy snow fell from the dangling branches of the pines, plopping on their heads and trickling down their backs beneath the fur lined cloaks.
"The city’s not far now, and the snow seems to be thinning some, though it’s still colder than a crow’s heart!" Rhan commented, his voice deceivingly light.
Vero smiled but did not break the silence he had maintained all morning. He shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, the leather crackling with cold. The tight leather breeches chafed his legs beneath the leather brais that criss-crossed from knee to ankle. The stiff leather jerkin kept away from his skin only by a light tunic, made it difficult to move and breath. Perhaps, his was too tight. He was sure the chain mail shirt was frozen to him. He was glad, however, for the fur lined cloak Marn had given him in Landsend. After pulling up the hood, he snuggled down deep into the collar, like a turtle in its shell. He could hardly wait to get home and back into his own silken robes of swirling color. Even his sword felt heavy and cumbersome, rubbing against his leg.
Vero was not accustomed to such a bitter cold. Admittedly, he found the hoarfrost which clung to the tops of the trees and shone like crystal in tiny pinpoints of color lovely to look at. The sun blazed boldly above them. It should be summer here, his thoughts fluttered sadly, flowers and life. The cold bit into his fingers, numb despite woolen gloves and he tried flexing them to stimulate warmth and blood flow. He felt a sudden fierce pity for the animal that struggled beneath him. Looking down past the horse’s ears, he could see the tiny tracks of forest creatures seeking food and shelter in the unaccustomed summer's freeze. Many, unprepared, would die.
"Is it really not far?" he asked through chattering teeth, feeling melancholy more fiercely than the cold.
Rhan flashed him a grin. "No winter on Thamos?"
"Not like this!"
"Well this is not usual here either," Rhan reminded him angrily, then relented at the hurt in Vero's eyes. "Tell me about the Shadowwraiths." As he spoke, curls of steam filled the air, blocking Vero from his view and adding more ice crystals to his already well coated beard and dangling braids. Shifting in his saddle, he felt his sword dig into his numb thigh and reached to push it away.
Vero sighed. "They are the dead. Soulless, yet living--- living yet dead." He shook his head as though it was as confusing to him as Rhan.
"The Daha'et use them in many ways. Shadowwraiths, however, also need to feed themselves, though not nearly as often. The Wraiths can and do capture peasants and children, herding the terrified captives to their masters. They can and do steal shadows, through which the Daha'et can feed, though much less strongly. In this way, the Daha’et can gain access to the soul of one such as a Da’liesh, that's difficult to catch - turn him to their side, though they prefer, much, the actual person. Just their presence alone puts the fear of God into most. They are destructive and foul--- slaves only."
"I see," Rhan commented blandly, though his heart pounded. The dead, his mind screamed, surrounded by dead. How can you kill what's already dead? Surprised at the calmness of his own voice, he asked, "And you really can't kill Orn yourself?" Won't, the word hung unspoken between them.
Vero cleared his throat nervously, tugging the cloak away from his neck as though it choked him. "I'm sorry, Rhan."
His pony’s sudden, quick step attracted his attention and Rhan found the snow now nearly gone, but the cold still festered in the air. Clouds darkly burdened the sky, from what he could glimpse of it through the trees. The sun, he could not see at all. He wondered wearily what he'd find when he did.
Vero was wondering some things himself, like what Orn's plan was. Could he possibly build an army of Da’liesh, though not very powerful, and Wraiths in an attempt to return home? If he gained enough gold and an army, who knew how many on Thamos would join him, even from the Conclave. The war had proven how many would risk Thamos for greed and power, how many had lost faith in the Word. Disquiet tickled his neck and crept stealthily down his spine.
Yes, it was possible or rather definite, if he was honest, that Orn, if successful, would return home. His brother would not be content in a land as barbaric as this. Besides, his hatred of Vero and Machore alone, if nothing else, would carry Orn home.
Looking up with woeful eyes, he found himself facing a clearing that held, as though clutched in the palm of a fist, a massive, rounded wall. "Is that it?"
Rhan nodded. "Quiet," he commented in surprise. "Must be the cold. It's almost Hain'sa. The city should be bustling."
Passing through the cleared land that surrounded the city walls, they found the crops withering from frost and the main city gates firmly closed. The river roared past the docks at the west gate through ice packed channels, the remnants of the flood still visible. Upturned trees and rotting vegetation splayed along the shore like trampled banners after a parade. The smell of fear and decay stretched like a cloud over the city.
Gazing up toward the high walls, they found them well guarded. Higher still, they found the sun, oblong in shape, directly east under a spreading stain of black. Rhan stared at the sight with a sickened heart. It looked like the end of the world.
"Open up," he yelled to the guards. "We need to speak with the council."
The guards eyed them critically, hostile gazes lingering on Rhan’s bright tattoos. Without a word of welcome, the gates swung unceremoniously open and the two made through. They walked down the near empty street, slowly, toward the council's semi-circular offices. Both men glanced down, startled, as a young woman, flaxen hair flying, darted in front of them. She held up her left hand in distress when she realized the shying ponies were nearly on top of her. Rhan noticed a glint of gold in the sun and shook his head as they edged the skittering ponies around her.
"City ways," he grumbled to himself.
"What?"
"Look at that. A married woman running about with her hair flying like a girl."
Vero glanced at his companion in surprise. "Is that bad?"
"Well not bad, not really," Rhan admitted, "just different than the old ways." Vero felt his own pangs as Rhan spoke. "In the villages, married woman wear their hair up, tied in a round bun woven with threads of gold. They're proud to wear it up, for all to know of their commitment. Here, unless you catch a glimpse of a finger, you don't know who's taken and who’s not!" he finished indignantly. Vero could only smile.
"What's happening up there?" Vero pointed to a frost covered green space between the houses and the business alley.
"Ah, there they are, planning the Hain'sa and we'll miss it all. It's not till the day after tomorrow. We plan it always for one full month after solstice, so the weather is fine, but we'll be well gone from here, though not home yet." He shook his head sadly. "The second one I've missed in my life."
"What is this...Hain'sa?"
"The summer solstice cieldha." Rhan grimaced as he looked around the winter deadened city. "Not much of a celebration this year, but it’s good they are going ahead with it. There'll be parades, dances, songs and…" He grinned at Vero. "..the wife carrying competition, races and such like."
Vero grinned back. "That I would like to see. Cieldha, important celebration, right?" he asked unsure. He would not mention he thought it distinctively odd to celebrate the solstice late. Rhan nodded.
They reined in in front of the council offices and tied off their ponies. "Let's go in and get it over with. Then we can get a room at one of the roadhouses and a decent, well for me anyway," he snapped glancing sideways at Vero, "meal. Then I'll show ya 'round."
"Rhan," Vero gripped his arm as he was about to open the heavy wooden door of the Tribunal. "Tell no one but your father and this Taoe who I am," he warned. "It's best for now."
"It's as I would have done," Rhan returned stiffly, offended.
******
Fiona met with them in her darkened, stark, office. "Ah, Rhan of Waterside, I am glad to see you yet live."
"Thanks to you, Grandmother."
"Tsk. No, Rhan, I gave you a harsh punishment indeed. And your companion?" She raised thin gray eyebrows toward Vero.
Vero flinched, then flushed under the old woman's scrutiny as her shrewd gaze traveled the breadth of his face. "This is...Vero, from the...north - Foreland."
Fiona noticed the hesitation but only nodded, waving them to a seat, her mind all the while trying to place Foreland. "We wish to travel and I'm told, I must inform you."
"Yes." She puffed a short bitter sigh, her lips trembling in agitation. "The Daha'et. You have heard, no doubt." She glanced at Rhan for confirmation, which he gave. "Their commands are to be followed, and from the show of power I received, we dare not do otherwise."
"I haven't seen the Daha'et, Grandmother, but I know of them, more than any other, maybe," he mused quietly.
"How so?" she demanded with a sharpness that belied her age.
He evaded the question. "Tell me, did they order you to pray to them and not to our...false, Go-, I mean Masters?"
Fiona narrowed suspicious eyes. "Of course."
Rhan paused, uncertain of how to continue. Then, with decisive movements, he pulled out the crystal and laid it before her. "Look at this."
"Sorcery." Fiona gasped and swung out her arm in warding, knocking over a mug of stale wine that left a spreading red stain across the front of her white gown. All Wisewoman, seer's and the like, feared true sorcery.
"Yes," Rhan answered as he moved to help her mop up. "A dream, Grandmother, nothing to fear. Can you read it."
Fiona studied it for a time, tensed, then blew out in an uneasy gasp. "These are not the Elementals, are they?"
"The Wakhanee. You must remember them."
"I certainly do, young man!"
"Good! Now, listen," he ordered, then recanted as she stiffened in insult. "..please, while I tell you the dream's tale."
"...And so," he finished, "we must pray to the Wakhanee as we did before, during the Age of Gentleness! And you must believe-- teach the people." She moved to speak, but he stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Despite the objections of the Elemental Priests. Offer the hope they cannot. Just don't let the Daha'et catch you. I don't yet know the full meaning of the dream, or exactly what I am to do, but I feel that we'll defeat these monsters. The Ghenosh hold the key, they and the Assembly."
"There is more to be told," she demanded, staring at Vero.
Vero flushed again under the reproachful glare. "It's my fault," he conceded, drawn as he had never been before by the strength of another's will. He told his story willingly, if not hastily, though he guarded his secrets.
"The council will need to know," she stated firmly, "but none other. The city's a mess between the flood and the cold." Thinking, she drummed withered fingers on the desktop. "People are acting strange and distant. No one holds out much hope. The Daha'et have already hired mercenaries to bring their meat, as they call it, dragon's, and some…" She glanced accusatory at Rhan. "..Da’liesh as well, or so I am told." She eyed Vero angrily but not without compassion. "Perhaps they plan to build up an army to return home and defeat you."
"That, fine lady, is my fear."
"And in the meantime our people are to die and our land along with them. I wonder how bad it is across the sea," she mused. "But we'll not find out. I hear rogue dragons patrol the ports for the Daha'et. No ships in, and no ships out. And these Shadowwraiths you speak of, those, we have yet to see. Tell me, are they at least defeatable?" She tilted her wizened head to one side and Vero caught a glimpse of the beauty she once was
His face clouded over. "Only by your Da’liesh. Their energy must be ripped free through the funnel of a Wizard’s whirlwind, thus removing their life energy. That is our way."
Rhan smiled grimly. "That, I can do." At last Vero had told him how to accomplish something. He felt victorious.
"Fiona!" A wild shriek interrupted them. "Fiona come, come see!"
They rushed from the warmth of the office to the cold city street only to find the sky hurling balls of ice from a cloudless arc. The oblong sun bobbed crooked, too far east, and the black stain continued to grow as though eating the light for sustenance.
Horrified, they stepped back into the shelter of the dun stone building. Fiona, in an uncharacteristic loss of control, grabbed Rhan's cloak. "You must help us," she pleaded, then caught herself and straightened. "It is why you were born--- trained."
Rhan bowed, then bent his head toward her vowing, "I will, Grandmother. I promise you. We'll find a room for the night, then catch the ferry on the morn. It is running?"
"Yes. Just. It started up again yesterday, but the water is still high and safety through the ice channels is a concern. The paddleboats still lie idle, trade halted." She shook her head in misery. "All this has happened so fast. How could we possibly survive a year or longer? If only we knew their numbers and were not so segregated into our own communities."
Rhan tried to add conviction to his voice. "There will be no need, Grandmother, to last out the year."
Fiona smiled weakly then reached up and patted him on the shoulder in farewell, quite a stretch for the tiny Elder.
The two men untied their mounts and made a dash for the livery stable. "Are there any rooms at the closest roadhouse?" Rhan asked the towheaded lad who was busy unsaddling the ponies.
"Lots, not many traveling these days," he mumbled, not even turning, his tone surly and unfriendly.
The two men made another dash for the inn, which was just adjacent, but both received some nasty bruises from the brutal downpour that stopped as abruptly as it had begun. They quietly paid for their rooms and a meal in the empty inn, then sat down to the welcome scent of a frothing ale.
"Snow woulda’ seemed more likely," the publican commented absently as he served them.
Rhan only nodded. The place was as barren as his heart. The emptiness swelled inside him, deflating his earlier boldness. He began to wonder again, how he, kin murderer, could save Dlrow from destruction. Maybe the Wakhanee had not been wise in their choice. Perhaps he, knowing more of them from his father, his teachings was the only one who had heard their plea. Surely though, there were others from the ancestral lines of their own priests, others more suitable. It was all so overwhelming, like thinking he had woken from the grip of a poisonous nightmare only to find he was still caught within its fine web.
They ate a light meal of bread and cheese, in deference to Vero, then gathered up their packs and locked them in their rooms before heading for the street. Vero shivered as soon as he set foot outside, but he was curious to see the world that surrounded him. He was pleased to find the city, including the roadhouse, held indoor plumbing of sorts and that he need not step out into the bitter cold if duty called in the wee hours of the night.
He turned to face Rhan, who was finally speaking.
"There, is the mint," he pointed without passion to a squat stone structure whose red fading sign leaned askew. "And that’s the university."
Vero's nearly non-existent brows shot up, this he had not expected. "What is taught there?"
"Bardships, languages, maths--- many things, stone masonry, art, pottery, the usual."
Vero nodded, pleased. So they were not as barbaric as he had first thought.
"The warriors guild and shipmasters guild," Rhan continued pointing out structure after structure, most of brown stone, as they walked down a series of streets. "That is the tithe office used to finance the council. The coin is also for villages whose crops are ruined and such, though now I'm sure most or all tithe will go to the Daha'et," he said bitterly.
They turned a sharp right and Vero found himself in a small area of wooden buildings that circled the road in a colorful arc.
"Ah, the conjurers."
"What?"
"Palm readers, practitioners of the herb, toymakers, Wisewoman and such."
"Ah."
They walked out the north end of the circle into the park setting Vero had noticed before. Those preparing for the Hain'sa were busy at it again despite the encroachment of true darkness. Rhan pointed to the north west. "There lies the stores - wares, you know, blacksmiths, butcher, bakers, and so on. And past that the market which I doubt has seen much activity of late. Ahead of that, the dragons work area. Anything like your home?" He turned to face the outsider.
"No," Vero admitted a little sadly, "but very nice, Rhan. Practical. All you need, really." No, it could never compare to the raised spherical, white, clean cities of Thamos that glowed under her three moons and blazed under her immense sun. He began to shiver again now that they had stopped, teeth chattering loudly. "Should we return, sit before the fire a while?"
"Sure." Rhan smiled smugly at Vero's discomfort but truthfully he was also feeling the bite of the winter air, which annihilated the soft touch of summer with forceful brutality.
"Wait!" Vero demanded, his whole body stiff with anger, fear.
"What is it?" Rhan lowered his voice. Vero's agitation gripped his thumping heart like a vice.
"Itar, he's in the city. I just saw him pass by on a street farther up, walking with two other men and a beast that I'm sure is what you call a dragon. That creature from our dreams. We must get away. If he finds I'm here, we're finished. They'll know that you have begun to move against them. We must keep them in the dark as long as possible. Who knows how large their force is by now? I can't take them all on! You must do it or…."
Rhan stepped in and stemmed the flow, his voice too calm. "We'll go back to the roadhouse, up to our rooms. You should stay with me tonight. It'll be a tight fit but safer, no?" he asked, eyeing Vero, unnerved by his sudden loss of composure - panic. Are you a coward?
"Yes, good, let's go."
They reached the inn safely, quietly passing unnoticed up the stairs to Rhan's room. The Da’liesh, gaze darting about nervously, returned shortly for two ales and carried them up.
"Were there any Da’liesh with him?" Rhan asked quietly.
Vero shook his head. "They looked to me like what would be considered mercenaries. He must be here to keep an eye on the city for Orn, watch those who come and go." Vero paused as he remembered something he had wanted to ask. "What was that building I saw to the East, just as we turned to come here? Falling to ruin really, but it was once very lovely. Gray stone."
"The Wakhanee temple….and it was indeed lovely. We'll have to make short work of getting out of the city tomorrow. We can only hope the dock’ll be crowded for the ferry and we'll simply blend in."
Vero stared at Rhan. "You could never blend in with those tattoos and your bearing."
"True, but everyone here is used to the Da’liesh."
"Itar might try to approach you if they're seeking you wizards out."
"If he approaches me, just keep your head down, move with the crowd. We'll leave at first light and take the earliest ferry."
Vero agreed reluctantly while he sipped at the bitter ale, missing the smooth beers of home. His mind was a whirl with the possibilities of what could befall him and his companion.
Though fear squeezed his heart, it was time, he must know. "Tell me about the dragons. The one I saw was black. Does that signify anything?" he asked suddenly.
Rhan nodded. "Yeah, the blacks are charmers. They can make you freeze with fear, then convince you to give up your sword. Their charms even work against their own kind. The reds, the largest, are fire breathers, irritable and arrogant. The smaller greens are females. But don't let their size fool you, their claws and teeth are sharp and they’re fierce in battle."
Vero simply stared at the Da’liesh. He could think of nothing to say, but terror of a kind he had never known seized him. These were the terrible beasts that had haunted his dreams, the horrible behemoths the dream gently guided them toward. Was it courage or fear that had driven him to finally ask?

FOURTEEN

Vero stood nervously on the dock the following morning under a bright sky that looked every bit as though the world was fine, eyeing the churning water with circumspection. He was not alone in his tension, however. Despite the warmth of the day, his fellow patrons viewed the water and instability of the rope tow ferry with noticeable unease.
A subtle whoosh of wings disturbed the air, and he felt himself grip Rhan's thick cloak. Neither man looked up. The cry of fear and rage of those around them was enough--a Daha'et.
Heads down, the two men peered sideways, watching in horror as several Shadowwraiths dropped down among the travelers. They silently carried away three small, screeching children, despite the cries and wails of the mothers and angry sword thrusts of the fathers. Rhan clenched his fists and stared impotently at the ground.
Vero knew Itar was there, watching. He could sense him, but did it mean Itar could also sense Vero? He hoped not. The Daha’et had thought they had nothing to cloud themselves against, so they should remain clear in his mind until they discovered him, but he, on the other hand continued to block himself from them. But Itar, had been so close....and he had, not long before, used his power to release Rhan from the Giant.
The dockmaster, his voice a frenzied screech among the chaos, ordered them to board. The two scuttled quickly on, mixing with the dozen or so others who chose to continue their journey, leaving the distraught, grieving parents behind. Rhan watched them silently as the ferry pulled away, their grief tearing at his heart, his own inability and seeming cowardice, eating his soul. He closed his eyes, wishing he could also close his ears to shut out the sobbing that surrounded him.
******
Itar's equilibrium was disturbed. He landed near the roadhouse Rhan and Vero had patronized, staring at it moodily. The few patrons inside looked down as he passed through the door. He lifted his face to sniff the stale air. Murmurs of resentment and fear rose quietly around him, barely reaching his ear, but only pleasing to the outsider. Pushing a gaunt fist into the open palm of his hand, he returned to his Rider.
Vero, he thought, as he commanded the beast to fly. Here, but attempting to cloud us, I am sure. Orn must be informed.
******
When the two men stepped off the ferry onto the dock on the west side of the Highcrest, Vero breathed a sigh of relief. The only building in sight, he found on surveying the area, was a small, dilapidated roadhouse, rotting in its disuse.
Rhan, finding his voice, spoke thickly, "That was…..there are no words. Was a Daha'et among them? I only saw the Shadowwraiths." He couldn’t control the violent shudder that shook his body.
Vero’s voice came out high, flutier than ever. "Yes, Itar, but he must have been on some other business and only paused to watch the Shadowwraiths at work."
"He didn't seem to notice us. I'm sure he was distracted by the scene." Rhan’s tone was strangely flat. He relived in his mind the horror, the terrified, mourning parents--- and the sound of wings. He felt his heart grow cold.
"One can hope," Vero agreed, but his innards quaked at what business it might be that Itar was about. "How far?" he asked, trying desperately not to think about what had just happened while they waited for their ponies to be brought across the ice sluggish river.
"Two days, by pony. We'll miss Hain'sa but it'll be good to be home again."
Vero glanced at Rhan finding his tone conflicted with his words. "You fear returning?"
Rhan turned a suddenly angry, white-lipped face to him. "How can I not! I killed my brother! Even you could not do that! Elder of my village. I am wifeless and alone. I don't even know if my father and mother will accept me back! Why should they! If... they even live," he added, demoralized.
"Why would they not accept you? You are a good man, Rhan, I know."
"You know." Rhan just as suddenly smiled and laughed, his mood fleeting. "Well then, you can vouch for my honor."
Vero smiled but watched his companion carefully. He found Rhan's mood swings dangerous and disturbing, a human quality perhaps. "We are a pair," he admitted to Rhan relieved, however, at the man's returned joviality.
The silent ferryman handed over the two roan ponies. Rhan shook his head sadly. "The Daha'et have changed the land so much. People have changed. The breaking of the chains must go far deeper than just its effect on the land," he commented as he watched the brooding river. "They have stolen the heart of Ourshare, of its people."
Mounting, he turned his pony to the Southwest and led Vero along the edge of the highway that meandered along the river's erupting course, the flat road a sudden calm in a tumultuous land. Vero followed in his own silence, racked by the guilt that this land had lain on his slender shoulders. He felt sticky sweat trickle down his back and neck, plastering his faded hair to his forehead. He rubbed a gloved hand across his face only to find the glove now soaked. Flinging back his hood, he panted in the sweltering heat.
"Rhan, I believe summer is returned."
Looking up they found the sun blazing in its place and the land around them abundant with life and the joyful trilling of birds.

FIFTEEN

"Orn."
"Itar, how goes progress in the city? I see we have a fair stock of humans built up already," he announced in good humor. "Have you found more Da’liesh who wish to be converted to our ways?"
"No, most seem to be in hiding. Listen, Orn, it's Vero."
Skeletal claw-like fingers tapped the arms of the stone dais on which he reclined. "What of him?"
"He's here. I'm sure I sensed him."
Orn's black eyes turned to absolute pitch within the shifting features. "So it is true! I sensed him once but thought...as he's my brother...ah. What do we do, Itar? Why is he here?"
"I didn't speak to him. I did not wish to come against him...alone, or without your advice. As I’m sure you’ll understand."
Orn flicked Itar a tight smile. "I don't blame you, old friend. Tell me, did you find his bearing?"
"I believe he crossed the river to the west, in the company of a Da’liesh."
"Ah. What land's there? Do we know?"
Itar shook his head.
"Well find out. Threaten, bribe but have him watched for, stopped if possible. He'll be afraid to use his power as we might pinpoint him. I want to know his every move. He cannot, will not, finish us here!"
Orn's arrogance lacked conviction, leaving Itar frowning with worry. Vero would cloud them and unless he used his power again or one of them stumbled upon him, they would never find him. But now, they would cloud themselves.
******
At the sudden clouding, Vero closed his eyes and wrapped sinewy arms around himself to warm the chill in his heart. They knew he was on Dlrow.

SIXTEEN

On the second day of following the winding river road, they found the heat nearly unbearable, swelling out in waves around them. Where shortly before the land had been lush, green, and vibrant from warmth and flood, teaming with life - it was now a steaming jungle falling in on itself in decay.
The canopy rose above them with the vastness of a prairie. Colorful birds from the far west chattered high in the towering tree tops that trailed vine like branches covered with sticky bright, green leaves to a ground buried under dense ferns and moss. The vegetation seemed to be growing at an excessive rate, forcing Rhan to use his sword to clear a path. The road was being virtually eaten away, returning to the land. If they veered too close to the raging water, the loose banks threatened to give way and topple them and their ponies into the battering current.
"Is it always like this?" Vero asked looking around. His shirts and mail were gone, displaying his sickly palor and emaciated frame all too well. His face, bathed in sweat, glowed unhealthily. He sniffed the thick air and found the combined odors offensive even to himself.
"Yes...no, not this hot or this...wild. The growth is....It'll take a week at this rate just to reach Waterside," Ryan moaned, exhausted. "I’ve never even seen many of these animals here before."
"Break!" Vero called with more enthusiasm than he felt. He handed Rhan a flask, which the Da’liesh drank from greedily.
"Maybe we're closer than I think. The landmarks are distorted by the flooding and growth. The road is lost." He turned suddenly hostile, shocking Vero. "Damn this land and Damn you! If I had my staff….." Vero slumped unhappily to the ground, and Rhan mentally chastised himself, his anger spent. Had he learned nothing from his brother's death?
Sweat, shook loose from his scalp, splattered Vero as he slumped down beside him. The Masterhand still clung to the ponies reins as though they were a life line. "Forgive me," Rhan nearly choked on the words, but finished honestly, "I'm tired."
"Let me clear awhile."
Rhan laughed, though it was edged with anger. "You?"
"I can't use my magic, but I'm stronger than I appear!" Vero retorted indignantly.
"I guess ya are or you wouldn't be here." Rhan offered a token of peace which Vero gratefully accepted.
Howls rent the night air. Darkness had fallen and they had not made much headway. "We'll need a fire tonight," Vero commented, voice heavy with concern. Fear driving him, he moved to break a branch from a small, dark tree hidden within the depths of a scanty grove of towering ones. These trees seemed ancient and out of place among the vines and jungle that surrounded them.
With a yelp, Rhan jumped up "No! Not the oak!"
Vero backed away startled. "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"No harm done. I'll leave an offering and we'll clear some brush for a small fire on the bank, away from the forest. It looks safe and wide enough over there," he pointed and Vero agreed, having little choice, as he bent to pull up some moss.

SEVENTEEN

Waterside

Rhan glared sourly at the blocked path, then heaved a gargantuan yawn. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he flexed the sore muscles of his left hand and arm but was pleased with its overall appearance. The gauntness and loss of strength from its forced disuse was nearly gone.
Vero came up quietly behind him. "Should I start this morning?" he asked dubiously. He was unsure of his physical capabilities despite his earlier bravado.
Rhan grinned at his companion's discomfiture and slapped him painfully on the back. " No, I'll go ahead. You can lead the ponies."
Vero nodded silently through his humiliation and wiped the rivulets of sweat from his emerald eyes with a trembling hand. He was not accustomed to physical labor. Being of royal line and ruler--- Masterhand, he accomplished his needs through magic or the use of others--- Peasants, slaves-- though he was kind to them, they had all been one and the same to him - until now. He shook his head miserably then glared up at the unforgiving sun. At home he would lie in his air conditioned room only thinking about the possibility of physical activity. Thamosians didn't even walk, they floated! Here, every step was sheer drudgery.
Barely dawn and already the heat bore down on them like a weight, carrying with it the claustrophobic claw of humidity. Vero found himself panting for air, but with eyes fastened on Rhan's sweat soaked back as he swung at the foliage again and again, he dared not complain. The air around them felt so thick, Vero imagined Rhan's sword could cut it. The droning of insects barely penetrated the heavy stillness, rank with the stench of rotting vegetation and eroding earth. An old owl peered down disdainfully from his perch, eyeing them no differently than he would a rodent dinner. The Masterhand squeezed his eyes shut and offered a prayer for strength to his own God.
They had crept along at that terrible pace for many hours when Rhan suddenly unbent and straightened, stifling a yelp as his cramped muscles unbound. "Do you hear that? Voices."
Vero listened carefully then smiled, "Yes, yes, they are close by I think."
Rhan began to hack away feverishly, nearly hitting Vero, who crowded in carelessly behind. Within a matter of minutes, a yawning gap hung open through the growth and a village could be glimpsed within.
"Waterside," Rhan breathed. "The north road’s over that way." He pointed. "We must have come away from it a long time ago." He dropped back on his haunches and watched the village through wide eyes. "It hasn't changed much."
Vero, observing Waterside, said nothing. He did not find it any different in appearance than the last village they were in. Peering about intently, he did, however, wonder at its name when there appeared to be no water in sight. He couldn’t help asking Rhan why.
"Huh, oh. See the well…that used to be a gushing spring from an underground river, but every year the water level seems to fall lower. Soon it might dry up all together and the village will have to fold," he finished sadly.
The two peered, one warily curious, one uneasy, at the village through the sweat that dripped stinging into their eyes. Laundry dangled on the line, while outhouses flooded the dense air with their fetid odor. Children scurried about, chasing dogs. Vero noted that the brightly painted sod and wood homes stood in a valiant circle, and the usual standing stones guarded the only open entrance to the village. The other end was cut off by a snag of thick, tangled foliage. He could not imagine the work it would take to keep this village clear daily of the spreading green stain of jungle that constantly crept toward them undaunted by ax or fire.
"They seem to be barely defeating the land. This must stop." Rhan shook his head, slamming a meaty fist into his open palm, his sudden temper flaring hotly.
"Shhh….what is that?"
Rhan listened, then smiled, "That, is Vich, recent fully trained bard. He had just come back from university when I...left. The village hired him on for all Cieldha. He often sings with Ahlisha who has not completed her apprenticeship yet, and in the tavern as well. Lovely isn't it? Good enough for the city and the council, but he prefers to be home," Rhan claimed with pride. "Do you know Ahlisha will be the fist Tangmere bard in the history of Dlrow?"
Tears flowed freely down Vero's cheeks now. "We have little music on Thamos, a sad fact that needs, I think, to be remedied." Rhan stared at him. He could not imagine a world without music, dancing---life.
Sighing wistfully and wiping the tears from his face with his tunic before he placed it on for decency, he asked, "Are you ready, Rhan?"
The Da’liesh stood up from his crouched position and stretched, turning quickly away from Vero, but the Masterhand had seen the look of uncertainty. "I'm ready."
Together they pulled the ponies through the opening and stepped onto one of the several back streets that circled the village.
"Rhan?" The sound of a light, tinkling female voice calling his name nearly unmanned the Da’liesh until he remembered, vividly, his wife was gone.
"Ahlisha," the name came out as a mournful sigh. Vero smiling widely beside him, could easily see what would send a man to this maiden's rescue. He himself found his mouth hanging open at her beauty and the unusual skin color...He had never seen anything like it.
"You're back! I'm so glad. Some said you wouldn't survive, but I told them you would!" There was pride and admiration in her tone, causing Rhan to wince. "Come - come with me to see the troubadours, they are here a night." Ahlisha danced around him gaily, eyes sparkling. "Can you believe they made it here through this muck!"
His body burned with a passion to be denied as he watched her youthful beauty through narrowed eyes. With a rough push, he shoved her away, at the same time forcing down the hunger that swept through him at her touch. "No! I cannot. I must see my father and mother." His mind screamed, And you, are still a child to me.
Head hanging in hurt and humiliation before him, Ahlisha looked pathetic. His face softened. "Perhaps later, but I will not promise." He slapped Vero on the back. "Vero, a visitor...from the north, can join us."
She smiled radiantly, making Rhan's body shiver. As he turned to go, she grabbed his hand. "I am sorry for what I put you through, Rhan, so sorry."
"It was not your fault, girl. That man was cruel, brother or no, a waste of fine skin. He deserved to die for what he did to you." And to my wife, he added in thought as his gaze, unwilling, followed the soft contours of her face, the glinting silver skin so enticing under the sun which burned bright orange and round on that day. Shaking his head to clear it, Rhan pulled his hand free and mumbled his farewell.
Another hand yanked on Rhan’s tunic from behind, bringing him to an abrupt stop as they came abreast of a large open space in the center of Waterside.
"A dragon?" Vero had yet to see one close up.
Rhan agreed and smiled, eyeing the snarling and grumbling dragon with amusement. "He new?"
Vero could only watch silently, his heart thudding as he observed the beautiful yet terrible creature.
The dragon’s handler nodded, staring moodily at the reluctant worker rather than Rhan. "Yeah, just arrived and he's none too pleased. I'll have him settled soon enough, though, mind. Keep reminding him, it’s only for a year then he can go home, if, he's good. These reds are difficult anyway, but he's young, and homesick. I’m afraid this ones’ heard the tale of his forefather’s once too often." The man shook his long, lank braided hair, good naturedly and laughed, only further infuriating the dragon.
"Right, is my father at home, Cerl, do you know?" Rhan switched easily to his own tongue.
The man glanced up sharply. "Rhan," he cried, "praise the Masters, it is you! Do you know what's happened? Can you help us with this mess of jungle, the heat....?"
Rhan lay a consoling hand on Cerl’s massive shoulder to stem the flow. "I need my staff first, but I'll try. You need to pray to the Wakhanee, Cerl…It's a long tale, my friend-- later."
Cerl shook his head. "The Wakhanee?"
"The Wakhanee, the old ways have returned."
"Your father's at home, Rhan, but…."
"But what?" Rhan cut in sharply at the other's hesitation.
Cerl lowered his head, on it’s bull like neck. "It's your father's place, and Rhan, for what its worth, the village was on your side in this thing. You know, don't you? Your brother was rotten to the core."
Rhan squeezed the man's shoulder but did not speak, his throat muscles tight with emotion. Setting his feet in motion, he hurried toward his childhood home, fear and remorse tearing at his heart, crowding his mind. What would he find there that Cerl could not bare to tell him?
Vero picked up speed to follow, dragging their reluctant ponies behind. "Rhan…the ponies. They need rest and water," he finally gasped as they passed into yet another of the back streets that ran circles about the village.
The Da’liesh stopped. "Sorry, right. The livery is down a street and over one. We'll take them in first." This done, Rhan painted a grim face with resolution, and took the first step toward home.
Trying to lighten his friend’s mood, Vero asked, "What is this tale the dragon hates so much?"
"Huh, oh that. It is said that long ago, before the Age of Gentleness, fierce beasts roamed Dlrow, killing off the dragons for sport. Powerful as they were, are, their opponent was even stronger. When they were all but annihilated, the head of the Assembly came to the Elder’s and requested their aid in laying a trap for the beasts…a trap that would require the humans’ help. It was a very successful one.
"With the beasts eliminated, the Assembly promised to never do harm to another human, to protect us. They also agreed to send into our care those in need of punishment for a full year’s penance and humiliation."
Vero looked surprised and impressed. "I see. Well, well." I think Orn has greatly underestimated you.

EIGHTEEN

When they arrived on the main street, villagers stopped working to stare at Rhan, some shouting words of greeting, others of encouragement and fear, some simply stood---shocked. Rhan had returned, a good omen to defeated people.
"What's that?" Vero nearly screeched as a procession of weeping and wailing villagers filled the street. Rhan now knew where the music they had heard earlier had come from.
"A funeral."
The two men stepped solicitously off the road when the mourners passed. "What are they doing?"
"Taking the dead to the sea. Do you not mourn your dead?"
Vero answered Rhan after careful thought. "We mourn, yes, but not to that great extent. Death is a natural occurrence and usually someone prospers by it."
Rhan made a moue of distaste, his already deeply grooved brow furrowed in disgust. Vero, in return, only asked a question. He would not defend the morals of his kind, something even he judged unkindly. "Tell me, how will they pass the road? The one they follow looks even worse than the one we came on."
"Same as we did," Rhan declared with pride, "if needs be." The two watched the sad train of ponies, wagons and wailers until they disappeared from view. Rhan, feeling melancholy, sent up a prayer to speed them on their way, keep them safe from the Daha’et, if the creatures could really know who went abroad. Of course with the eyes of the dragons to help.....
"Let's go." They soon reached a small sod house. It appeared well cared for, with colorful, dancing flowers that filled a narrow garden beneath a curtained window. "My mother loves to garden." Rhan bent down and dug into the cool earth with his fingers, finding it moist and packed with rotting vegetation.
Vero jumped, startled, taking a deep constricting breath of the humid, fetid air, as an orange tabby shot under his feet in pursuit of a large rat. Now it was his turn for distaste. Rodents, even he, could not abide.
On the threshold of his father's house, guilt and grief impaled Rhan, freezing him mid stride so that Vero nearly bumped into him. He wondered if he could enter. Scribe, historian, respected sire of a common criminal, that is what he had made his father. In his anger, he smacked the door frame, bringing the old man hurrying from the back kitchen. The bell above the door tinkled as the elderly man swung it wide open, and Vero gazed in wonder on Yhisc of Waterside.
The man, wrinkles of time running like river valleys down his face, was older than old. Two shrewd eyes peeked out of the furrows and grooves and a slow, glorious smile spread across them, splitting the face like dry dough.
"Son." He stepped forward, his body small and shrunken. "I am so glad you've returned. I could get no news." His arms barely reached around Rhan, but he held him tightly, then backed away. "Come in, come in and your friend too," he added switching to trade.
"Da, this is Vero. We could sure use some ale." Rhan's fear seemed to be slipping away by the moment. He ushered Vero across the lush green grass floor into the small living area while his father hurried to fetch the drinks.
Singing filled the room the two men entered then stopped suddenly. Vero stared nervously at a cage hanging in a darkened corner of the room, where the chattering song had apparently come from. He could see only an outline through the dim light in the house. It was a small flying creature, not a bird, but human-like in form. It was all aglow. The cage appeared luxuriant, the little being well kept. The room that surrounded it, however, was much less opulent, a few wooden chairs drawn up to an empty hearth and a well used table, which sat humbly in a corner. One large ratty armchair of straw and birch dominated the area.
Rhan was also staring at the Kesh, but for a different reason. It’s gentle voice filled his mind. "Thoughtmaster…..bane of souls, master of soul's bane, you have come. The Wakhanee await. I will join you, bring you light and luck."
"Join me," Rhan spoke aloud but the little creature had returned to its chattering song, "but you belong to father."
"What is it?" Vero demanded, his gaze glued to the haunting creature.
"Kesh. All homes, and many businesses have Kesh. They are good luck. They light the way when travelling and spirits fear them. They bless our homes and enjoy being with humans. It has been the way since time immemorial."
"Ah, and what did he say to you?"
"That he will come with us. He called me strange names... Thoughtmaster, bane of souls." Rhan shivered. He did not like that title. "But my father needs him."
"Can't he get another? If this one's set on going, we need all the luck we can get."
"I guess," Rhan admitted reluctantly, then suddenly called, "Da, where's ma?" The Kesh stopped singing, the trilling falling to the ground like dust---the silence was ominous.

NINETEEN

Rhan peered up when his father's shadow, creeping before him, darkened the gloom even more. "She's gone, Son, near on two months now. Cerl… he made the trek for me. Too old, Rhan, I'm just too old." His eyes ached with grief and humiliation.
Rhan, who had taken the seat closest to the fireplace, dropped his head and stared at the grate, unable to meet his father's eye. He accepted his ale without looking up, mute, while the old man scrambled around lighting candles and pulling back frilly curtains….an invitation to a late day sun who, peeking shyly, seemed afraid to enter and intrude upon their mourning. Rhan cast his eyes anywhere but at his father, taking in his once home. The dirt, dust and squalor of many months clung to everything around them. His mother never would have allowed this. Putting his grief aside to focus on more immediate needs, he faced the old man. "Da, you have to get someone in to clean. What about Jilley?"
His father turned away but not before Rhan marked the hurt in his eyes. "I don't see Jilley and the boys much any more, Rhan not since...you went away."
Rhan sprang from his seat, body tense with an anger he could finally direct. "You can't tell me they blame you for Etan's death! I'll speak to Jilley. I have to go away again, Da, its very important. I want someone to look after you while I'm gone. Not let the flowers die in ma's garden. To love the house as ma did." His voice cracked. He grabbed his father’s tunic, twisting it in his large hands. "Look, even your cloths are filthy. How can they let you live like this!"
Vero watched the two men, unsure of whom to pity more. Rhan, whose wife’s death and brother’s murder by his own hand had driven him from moody fits of rage to perilous falls of deep despair. Or, Yhisc, alone and bereaved with no one to care for him because of the choices of his only sons. And, this poor woman, Jilley, was not her pain the greatest of all?
"Some is my own choice, Rhan. Calm yourself. I have a hard time facing Jilley, too. Your brother left them well cared for, for a time anyhow, and Jilley is taking in washing, but she doesn't need me to look after too. I've been avoiding her, and she me." Yhisc turned his face away from his son's anger-- pain.
Rhan angrily flung himself back into his chair.
His father spoke peaceably, eyes proud but weary on his only living son. "Rhan, her pain is great, Son. She is, was, humiliated and alone. The villagers sided, for the most part, with you. Many knew Etan's ways and even though Ahlisha was Tangmere, they did not excuse him. Ahlisha's family is well respected here."
Rhan's face hardened. He steepled his fingers and glared at his father through them. "Ahlisha's heritage is not the issue! It never was and never should be."
His father, wanting to ease Rhan’s mood, gently agreed and changed the subject. "Tell me about yourself, Vero."
Vero, who had been staring mutely at the Kesh during this last exchange, turned a startled face to the old man, then raised a thin brow in inquiry to Rhan.
"I should speak first, Da. We need information from you about the Wakhanee and…" Rhan scrutinised his father closely in the gloomy light. "Why is your face so flushed?"
"Writer's fever," Yhisc mumbled with a dismissive wave of his gnarled hand. He turned curious eyes on his son. "I have been writing of the Wakhanee, pushed to tell of their origins. They are the true deities, Son, not the Elementals and there’s more. There is one they follow. I've been telling our own for years they must pray to the Wakhanee but the doubt me." Shaking his head, he blew out a wheezy breath.
"I know, Da. You know about the Daha'et?" The old man bobbed his head, the lank gray braids flapping around him like a cloud of dust. "Well...I want you to see this, my dream. Will you watch and try to understand it while I go change into my robe, collect my staff and arcane?" Vero tilted a confused face toward Rhan who amended. "Book."
Yhisc, staring at the crystal, waved an excited hand at his son. "Yes, yes, I know what you mean. Go ahead."
Vero smiled amusedly at the old man who thought Rhan had been speaking to him. Wondering how, with so little light, they kept the grass in the house so green, Vero pulled his chair across the soft floor to Yhisc's side while the old man peered into the crystal. The two sat together motionless as if movement would slow the parade before them.
Rhan passed behind them through the kitchen into his once bedroom at the back of the sod house. It was as he had left it. He had returned to his childhood home after Sesha's death, unable to remain in the home he had made with his wife.
Shutting the door firmly behind him, he removed his boots and rubbed his toes joyfully into the lush grass that filled the house. Pulling open the plain wooden wardrobe, a solstice gift from Sesha, he reverently unhooked his robe, relief spilling through him at the sight of it clean and unmolested by moths. He stripped and glanced in his mirror at the tattoos that scrolled down the right side of his body. Road worn and filthy, he disgusted himself. Disappearing into a closet size privy, he managed a short, cold sponge bath in the tight quarters, followed by a quick shave, redefining the hairless cleft in his chin.
Opening the dense black robe, he pulled it carefully over his head, tightly tying the slitted sides that allowed easy access to the tattoos. The material itself was fairly light, quite comfortable regardless of the weather. Lifting the fabric to his face, he smelled the scent of his mother’s soap. She had cleaned it after he had gone to the mine he realized sadly.
Slipping across the room to his dresser, he opened the third drawer and carefully removed his arcane, covered with a year's dust. He blew softly against the worn spine, then coughed as a gray cloud erupted around him. His staff sat forlornly in the corner closest to his bed. This he retrieved last, holding it tightly in his hand to get the feel and weight once more. It was like an old friend, he thought gratefully. Despite the mark on his hand, he was Rhan, Da’liesh once more. Bowing his head, he slumped back on his bed and shed the tears his mother deserved before returning to his father. When Sesha’s pretty face crowded in on his mother’s, he pushed it away, for now. He was not ready.
"Well, Father," he said as he strode into the living quarters, his clean face held high, no shame in his reddened eyes. "What do you make of it?"
Rhan's father shook his head in wonder, still peering intently into the crystal. "It’s harder to decipher than the ancient texts of the Wakhanee priests. I see the Wakhanee. They seem to be...in crisis of some sort. The circles appear broken, which would explain the weather, and the jungle, the attitudes of the people. I see these Daha'et and you, and .." He glanced at Vero. "..you, and I think it's, yes, its Ahlisha and Taoe, all going to the Ghenosh, who apparently hold the key in aiding the Wakhanee which... seems to involve the dead. Now, I see you all going toward the ocean, then I see the Assembly, or dragons anyway, and the Dragonshoard Mountains. It looks like the chain of sorcery still functions and the Wakhanee need our prayers. There's a another woman here, in this scene," he extended a crooked, arthritic finger, "and what looks like a dog?"
A dog, Rhan shook his head, ignoring that last bit, though he said nothing to his father. He noticed Vero's puzzlement, as well, but the moment passed. A shadow was what they had seen. Could someone else have entered the dream? Rhan nodded to his father before returning to his seat. "Exactly it, Da, or what I could make of it. You might be old, but your mind is as young as ever," he said with pride.
The old man flashed him a spirited grin, then returned to his scrutiny of the crystal. "So you need me to spread the word to pray to the Wakhanee?"
"That, and more. I'll pass the word to the Home Elder, tonight, after we accompany Ahlisha to see the troubadours." He flushed under the soft candle light.
"Ah."
"Who is Home Elder now?" Rhan asked forestalling his father's question.
Yhisc looked startled. "Cerl, didn't he say?"
Rhan frowned and shook his head. "No, but he seemed unwilling to tell me of ma. That's probably why. Ma…" Rhan’s voice cracked.
His father grasped his hand. "She had a long life, son. She loved you and never blamed you for Etan's death. Nor did I. He was, after all, not the child of her blood, though to her that never mattered. He was a wrong one from the start. He wormed his way into the Elder's post. It should never have happened." Rhan could only bob his head at his father, there were no words for what he felt about Etan or his parents’ forgiveness.
"How about a meal, then we can discuss the Wakhanee and why they are sending you dreams." Yhisc passed a knowing, proud look over his son before disappearing into the kitchen.
Vero left Rhan to his grieving, moving to stand beside the wire cage the Kesh reclined in. He was startled to find the door was open.
The Kesh greeted him with a wan smile, its eyes only for Rhan and his grief. It was obvious to Vero that the little creature loved his charges dearly. Sighing, the Masterhand returned to his seat.
"Come and get it! So, Son," his father began once they were seated, "why don't you tell me about Vero and what you know of your dream? Then I'll tell you about the Wakhanee - again," he reminded him.
"I remember most of what you've told me, Da, but Vero needs to know as well and none can tell it better than you," he offered peaceably. His father smiled doubtfully.
"I met Vero in the mines. I had been having the dream for some time and it was when we were in Landsend that I trapped it. It was also there that we learned of the Daha'et. They will destroy us, Da, if I don't follow the dream that the Wakhanee sent me. The land will fall apart around us. Even if they do leave in a year’s time, there’ll be nothing left. Elder Fiona said that the sea ports are guarded by agents of the Daha'et, so all travel abroad had stopped even if we were to look for help. Not that those from across would aid us anyway," Rhan admitted caustically.
"The Daha'et appear to hold this side of Dlrow under their power and we can only guess at what’s happening across the sea. Except," he grimaced, "those poor fools don't know why."
Rhan glanced at Vero, his gaze firm. "I think it's best Vero take up his own tale here."
The Masterhand dipped his head, acknowledging what he must do. He sighed heavily, stretching his long legs out in front of him, nervously steepling elongated, thin fingers, trying to relax. Yhisc smiled encouragingly.
Vero spoke at length, repeating what he had already told Rhan, and finished with, "I don't know how long they plan to stay. They say a year, but in that time your entire world could be wiped out. They need to feed at a ravenous rate and will try to win over all of your Da’liesh. They have already, from what we know so far, hired mercenaries and rogue dragons to enforce their laws." Vero shook his head and glanced at the elderly man before continuing, the man’s grief a knife to Vero's heart. "They need the Da’liesh, and the rules they have imparted, as they are few in number. Many enough, however, to control Ourshare. Though, not perhaps, all of Dlrow." He paused.
"The Wakhanee reached out and I also heard their pleas. Perhaps, because of my own guilt." Vero slumped forward and rested his forehead on hand. He regained himself but with difficulty under the watchful, anxious eyes of his companions. "The futures of both Thamos and Dlrow depend on the outcome of my journey. My brother must be destroyed but by your son, Rhan. I am sorry, forgive me." What else could he say?
Yhisc, despite knowing he had not heard all of the truth, and understanding little, reached out and touched Vero's thin, sinewy hand gently. "There is nothing to forgive. You are here now." The Masterhand turned away from the face of such gentle compassion. "Tell me, is it possible for me to see a Rider?" The old man’s eyes twinkled with curiosity.
Vero grinned. Now here was something he could do. He pulled a small metal box from a pouch that hung around his waist and carefully opened it. Gleaming under the candle's glow, lay the beast, tiny silver wings folded elegantly at its side. Father and son shook their heads in disbelief, staring slack jawed at the box.
"That is a Rider?" Rhan demanded, incredulous.
Vero nodded. "They shrink and grow."
"And they want the Da’liesh to aid them in a battle against your kind? They must be insane!" Yhisc shouted, his face nearly purple.
Vero shrugged. "Power is power, and perhaps Orn believes the Da’liesh, once under his control, can learn more potent spells - own their sorcery as we do. Necromancy has different... capabilities. Unless you choose the dark path you cannot fully understand." He shrugged again, but his heart raged against himself and his people.
"He wants to come home, and this might be his only opportunity, for all he knows this is the only other planet. Besides, he wants me dead. Orn hates me as much for my seeming weakness as he does for becoming ruler." Vero admitted sadly. After a short silence he looked into Yhisc’s forgiving eyes and spoke again. "I am sorry for everything. Help me to destroy them. Tell us about the Wakhanee, Yhisc."
Yhisc studied Vero for a long moment, digesting all the alien had said before he nodded tiredly and began. He did not want to know anymore. "The Wakhanee are the children of the True Master. Left here on the world he created, to care for and maintain it and its Children-- us, also the elder races, though to a far lesser extent. They are more attuned to the land itself and aid the Wakhanee in many ways." His dark eyes danced over Vero with curiosity. "Their abilities differ from ours, seeming really to be more like yours. We, in the eyes of the Wakhanee, really are children. Dlrow cycles under the guidance of the circles, each one controlling a different section-- sorcery, land, sky, water, and heart. There are still a few old ones like me, who pray to the Wakhanee. Most, however, pray to the Elementals, who are really the Wakhanee only by a different name, though the Wakhanee do not see it that way and have refused, it seems, the prayers."
Yhisc sighed heavily. "The Wakhanee were revered during the Age of Gentleness. The Dragon’s Assembly were their protectors. Only they know of the true path to the Wakhanee, or so we were taught. Perhaps they no longer know either.
"Long ago, a man named Heun was angry, and he sought to find the Wakhanee in their mountain home, but could not. He challenged the beliefs of the Wakhanee priests, who then went in search themselves. Studying the texts of the priests while they journeyed, Heun, came up with a new belief system-- the Elementals. He led the people to believe they had been wrong in their prayers all through the ancient times. The Priests returned disillusioned and weakened. The people turned away from them.
"It was a prolonged, severe drought, bringing disease, death and war, which sent Heun, after the loss of his entire family, on his pilgrimage. I cannot explain why the land failed, perhaps the Wakhanee were ill or weakened at that time, maybe the True Master had just departed and the Wakhanee were only beginning their rein alone." He shrugged. "We will never know, but on the Priests’ return they believed, as Heun suggested, it was time to begin anew." Yhisc sighed, a ragged wheeze disbursed with his breath.
Rhan’s eyes glazed with fear but he did not comment, wondering only if soon he would lose his father too.
"The last true Wakhanee priest died many years ago, alone and forgotten. Their temples crumble, and their ways are abandoned. We still live in circles and eat in circles and are careful not to break them, but it has become only a superstition, not part of our true religion. Those stones," he cried, enraged. "They are our religion now!"
"Calm yourself, Da." Rhan knew what course he must take. "We'll take Cerl into our confidence and spread the word of the Wakhanee. Then we’ll have to locate Taoe, who should also be free of the mines now. I hope to find him in Rangeland, I truly hope," Rhan choked out, wondering if he could live with himself if anything untoward had happened to his greatest friend. "From there we’ll just have to follow the course of the dream. We should end up at the Dragonshoard Mountains where the Wakhanee, if legends are true, must rest. If there’s a way for me to end this strife and free the Wakhanee then I'll do everything in my power to do so. It's our own lack of belief that got us into this. If the Wakhanee were strong they might have resisted the Daha'et!"
"Where is this True Master?" Vero, who had been thinking quietly on Yhisc’s comments, asked curiously, a knot in his stomach. "What of him?"
"That, I cannot tell you, but in the most ancient of texts which even I cannot decipher completely, and it has been some time since I’ve been to the library in Eldercity, he looked a little like you."
Vero reared back. "It cannot be! We cannot share a God!"
Yhisc stared at Vero curiously, causing the Masterhand to explain himself. "You see, our God resembles us or we him. Like is like. Perhaps he practiced with you first, then left the Wakhanee here and came to create us-- vastly more powerful. Perhaps that is why I had the dreams because we share a creator." Vero shrugged off his thoughts, his slender shoulders quivering with indignity at the possibility they could be, in some way, kin.
Rhan's eyes glittered dangerously. "Would it matter, Outsider? We are still not true kin and perhaps he started with you and didn't like what he found and moved to us?"
And now has gone on to another, Vero thought sadly. He lowered his eyes in sudden shame, the cloak of arrogance shedding like a snake's skin. "No, Rhan it does not matter. What matters is that we destroy my brother and free your land and mine from his grip." Did he have the right, he now wondered, to protect his world over Rhan’s? It seemed unlikely God would even be available to smote them for killing Orn, but could he risk such a thing as the destruction of his own world? He knew Orn simply did not believe anything would happen to Thamos were he to kill Vero and take over the rule.
An angry silence shrouded them, filled with frustration and doubt. The meal they had polished off had gone down without tasting, and now lay heavy in their bellies. The abrupt knock at the door came as a relief to all, especially Vero who was left wondering about his God and where he was. Perhaps, like the forgotten Wakhanee, he no longer cared about Thamos and all of their concerns were for naught. Nothing Vero did would even matter. He could have killed Orn long ago.
"Wait," Yhisc cried, his eyes on Vero's plate. "You didn't touch your meat! It'll have to go to the dogs!"
Vero jumped, startled from his thoughts. "I don't eat meat, old one. It deadens the magic in me and...."
Rhan cut him short. "Come to the door, Vero!"
Vero smiled apologetically at the old man and followed Rhan out, heeding the warning within the words.

TWENTY

The Troubadours

"Jilley!" Rhan cried, then less enthusiastically, "and Ahlisha."
"Ahlisha told me you were back, Rhan." Tall and slender, Jilley could almost stare him in the eye. "You look well...considering."
"Thanks, come in. Da will be real pleased to see you."
She nodded and stepped inside with Ahlisha close behind. Rhan slammed the door on the onset of night.
"You didn't forget about the Troubadours, did you, Rhan?"
"No, no Ahlisha. Vero and I will join you this evening. Come in." The girl fairly danced into the room, causing the Kesh to chatter with excitement. Rhan glanced sharply at the creature, but it did not deem to offer communication.
"Da," he called loudly to his father, who was cleaning up the kitchen. "You have company. This is Vero, Jilley, from the north."
Vero bowed at the waist in her direction. She smiled back shyly.
Yhisc shuffled into the room and peered shyly at the two women. Rhan was pained by the discomfort that emanated from Jilley and his father. "Jilley, it's good to see you. How are the boys?"
"They're well, Yhisc. Growing. They...miss you."
"Well, I only live a few streets away, Jilley."
"That goes both ways."
"That it does." The old man spoke sadly.
"Jilley, as you can see." Rhan narrowed indignant eyes at his father. "Da has let the place go and he could really…"
"Use your ideas on how to get it running again," Yhisc interrupted.
Jilley smiled widely. "You need my help, Yhisc and you shall have it, me and the boys." She burst into tears then, leaving all the men speechless. Ahlisha wrapped a comforting arm around her, making shushing sounds.
"I'm so sorry, Rhan, Yhisc. I could not face you, Yhisc. But I just had to see Rhan, how he was, how they treated you. I know what Etan was but I... I loved him… and Ahlisha." She could not even look at the girl. "Oh, I'm just so sorry."
Yhisc crossed the deep grass floor and took Jilley in his arms. "There is no need for you to apologize, girl. I'm so glad you came. I need to see you and the boys. Without Ila, my life is empty and Rhan...He's leaving again."
"Leaving?" Ahlisha cried.
"I must. Vero and I journey together in search of a way to free the land from the Daha'et." He sounded stiff and formal - arrogant, even to himself.
Jilley shook her head. "You would save us after the punishment you received." Atonement. He shivered when the word mutely twisted his heart.
"I've seen Elder Fiona. The punishment was more than fair and it seems others have suffered as much for it as myself," he added gently as he gazed at Jilley.
"Yes," she admitted, plucking at the skirts of the long flowing peasant style dress she wore. "I should never have told you of Sesha. Perhaps now that you have survived we can all get on with our lives." Another tear trailed down her cheek. "I miss Ila too. I made the trek with Cerl, you know."
"I know." Yhisc, pulling her close again, spoke softly into her hair, then backed away, studying her face. Her thick brown hair dangled in the long tightly woven braid of a widow. The fine lines of middle age did little to detract from her beauty. High cheek bones sat prominently above a narrow, regal nose and full sensuous lips. Deep blue eyes returned his scrutiny. "It is no wonder my second sons are so handsome!"
Jilley grinned. "Yes they are, like Rhan and Etan, your first," she finished softly. "When do you leave, Rhan?"
"First light. Tonight we'll accompany Ahlisha to the play, then we'll need to speak with Cerl. There is much to tell that I can't share with you yet, Jilley. I'll let Cerl fill in the village as a whole, as he sees fit once we leave. I'm glad it's he that replaced Etan."
Jilley smiled shyly. "I agree. He's as fine a man as any."
Rhan glanced at her sharply, studying the heat in her face curiously.
Peering out the window, he found darkness was beginning to fall in earnest. Soon the troubadours and their troupe would begin their show. "Should we head out now, get a good seat?" he asked, suddenly jovial as he held out an arm to Jilley. He was clean, wearing his robes. His belly was full. His beard trimmed and his family at peace. It was Ahlisha who snapped up his offered arm, however. Jilley stepped back, smiling at Rhan's discomfiture as he tried not to recoil from Ahlisha’s touch.
When they moved through the door, Jilley leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Sesha is gone, Rhan. You will always remember, but she is gone."
Rhan, her words burning in his heart, did not turn around or speak farewell when Jilley turned to head home. Yhisc followed behind the pair with Vero at his side. Ever the scholar, he fired question after question at the outsider, his mind burning with the fever to write about Thamos and its people.
They had settled themselves on the hard wooden benches that circled the stage before Rhan spoke almost shyly to his father. "Your Kesh has informed me he must join me. Can you get another? How do you feel about it?"
"He'd already told me, before you came. I knew you would have to go, just, not so soon. Another kesh will come. Don't fret for me. I have Jilley now," he happily reminded his son.
"You've lost weight, Da," Rhan admonished worriedly. "Are you not eating well? And your chest, it whistles."
"It's the fever, Rhan. You know how it takes me when I write. And, the loss of your ma. I'll get over it. Maybe I just need Jilley's care, and the boys. The fever is going but with all that Vero's told me, might return."
"Well make sure you eat. I don't want to lose you too."
"I'm an old man, Rhan. I won't live forever."
Rhan, turning to Ahlisha who was, with one hand, smoothing her long skirt and with the other plucking at the sleeve of his robe, pretended he had not heard his father's comment. The troubadours were coming out. He tried to shift his bottom away from her, finding her proximity made him sweat. He noticed how her dark hair glistened under the towering torch poles to light the stage for the actors. Once the opening dialogue was uttered, however, Rhan relaxed and enjoyed himself for the first time in many a month. Ahlisha, leaning into him, was only a vague shadow at his side.
Thunderous clapping commended the poets and troupe actors, who slowly stepped up to take their bows. The play, a comedy, had been well executed and enjoyed by all. The village children shouted and danced about in glee.
Rhan closed his eyes for a moment, letting the noise of the village envelop him, relaxing him, but his mind’s eye cruelly produced the specter of his wife, who danced playfully before him. How many times had they seen the troubadours over the years? Three? Four? Sesha had loved the plays and had taken great pains to get Rhan to attend with her. He passed a hand across his eyes as though he could wipe away the vivid memories that tormented him. Sesha, my heart. Why did you leave me?
Opening his eyes to clear his mind, Rhan studied the spectators, and caught a glimpse of Cerl heading toward the roadhouse. Jilley was just leaving his side. He sighed moodily, but he was happy for Jilley and Cerl. He only hoped this man would treat her as she deserved and love his brother's sons. He quietly said goodnight to his father before the elderly man hurried after Jilley, calling her name in his dry, crackling voice, leaving Rhan’s attention to Ahlisha.
Taking Ahlisha's hand quickly in his own, then dropping it like a hot iron, he thanked her for a lovely evening and, grabbing Vero, followed Cerl. Only Vero, who turned to glance back at Ahlisha, caught the pain in her eyes and the pout on her proud lips. The silver hue of her skin glistened alluringly under the torches’ glow and he found himself shivering, but whether in lust or wonder he didn’t know.
They each spat outside the tavern door. Vero was easily picking up on the ways of the land, though not necessarily understanding them. Walking in under the jangling bell, Rhan surveyed the crowd for the one they sought. The Da’liesh, however, quickly found himself surrounded, greeted by many. His hand was shook over and over, lastly by Ahlisha's grateful father, Tam, before he finally reached his old friend.
"You didn't tell me you were Home Elder," he snapped, insulted, before he sat down and waved over the publican.
"I'm sorry, Rhan. I thought it could wait."
"And what about Jilley?"
Cerl flushed a crimson that matched the fire burning low in the hearth to warm the sudden evening chill of the humid air around them. It was so hot during the day one could not breathe, so chill at night, frost settled on the ground. "I have been seeing her."
Rhan, Sesha finally receding completely from his mind, suddenly grinned and slapped his friend heartily on the back, a smack that would have sent the wincing Vero sprawling, but bull like Cerl only grinned back. "That's great, just make sure you treat her well or you’ll have to deal with me." Happily, Rhan realized he meant it. "Now, I have news for you that you won't like at all, and, I need your help."

TWENTY ONE

Rhan spent a long, restless night at home in his childhood bed. His mind hoarded images of Ila, Etan and Sesha. This, his childhood home, Yhisc's home, every nook and cranny seemed to invoke some memory; Ila, singing him a lullaby as a child; Etan and him wrestling on the soft grass floor; Etan and Jilley - their family; The birth of his brother-sons; The smell of roasting meat and Sesha's wide, full smile whenever Yhisc teased her about fulfilling her duty and providing him a second son; Sesha's soft brown eyes and golden hair, the way it spilled across her shoulders when she awaited him in bed.
A sob tore at his throat, but he choked it back, fearing Yhisc would hear and come to his aid. He thought of visiting the home he and Sesha had built together, but quickly realized he could not take the torment.
Why Sesh? Why’d you leave me? It’s my fault. I killed you just as surely as if I’d been there to plunge the knife into your heart myself. He brought a trembling hand to his own heart and lay it there, warm and heavy. He pictured her soft, thin hands, the gentle way she had held Sesha’s boys. Those hands that had, with one swift movement, destroyed his life. Oh Sesha, why?
Finally, he drifted off, his face wet with tears, his last memory of Ahlisha's pale face when he pushed his brother's body from her.
He awoke the next morning feeling run down but more confident than he had a right to. His conversation with Cerl had gone well, though the man was having some difficulty accepting Vero. Most comforting of all, he was Da’liesh once more. He pushed his memories as far back in his mind as he could, took a deep breath, and sat up.
He quickly pulled on his robe, tightened his belt, and slipped on his boots. Grasping for his staff, he then gazed on his reflection with pride, the circular mark on his hand seeming the only flaw. The long, black flowing gown of the Da’liesh suited him. It's sides, tied tightly, barely gaped open, and the wide golden belt fastened at the waist around his lean middle made him appear even larger than he was. His legs were encased in long leather walking boots and his sword hung proudly from the belt at his side. He ran his hand along it, wondering if he could ever free it or his mind of his brother's blood. It would be his penance. He would never own another. It was a fine sword.
His brother’s beaten, bloody face swam before him and he envisioned once more how he had driven the sword home into a man already near death. He shook the image away and stuffed down the raw emotions which followed.
He carried his arcane in a leather pouch slung with his coin case on the right side of his belt, opposite his sword. A hidden dagger, within easy reach, was sewn within a deep pocket of the robe. The wide cowl poured loosely down his back.
Stepping into the closet size privy, he pulled his straight razor from its own pouch, another that dangled at his side, and cleared again the line from mouth to throat that displayed the deep cleft in his sharp chin. Dunking his head in the cold tub of water his father had prepared the night before, he then set to work reshaping and tying his lustrous brown braids. The finished effect was pleasing. He enjoyed the way his dark brown hair glistened when clean, then laughed at himself. Worse than a woman, he thought, and shook his head at his own conceit. His smile suddenly drooped as he remembered the way Sesha had teased him about his vanity.
He stared deeply into his own odd eyes, the glittering silver and the deep, yet pale blue. He was ready. He was Da’liesh, not the murderer of kin. Closing his eyes on the sudden, troubling image of his brother’s slain remains, he knew that a change of clothes and a clean body would never cleanse his soul of that bitter event.
Peering once more into his eyes, past the torment that crouched behind them, he opened his mind to his brother Da’liesh. "Come," he called, "brothers of the staff. Meet me at the Ancient Temple of Wakhanee, outside Waterside in two day’s time. We will know how many of us stand against this evil that plagues our land."
When he stepped out, he found himself inches from Vero's nose and discovered he couldn't meet the Masterhand's eyes.
Vero eyed him curiously. "Your father said I could refresh myself and has given me some clean clothes." He held the clothes out in front of him in explanation. He did not want Rhan to think he had been prying.
Rhan nodded and mumbled, "Rightly so," then walked toward the kitchen without a backward glance, leaving Vero uneasy.
Standing outside after a sumptuous vegan breakfast prepared by Yhisc, they heard the soft whooshing sound of wings, the first sign of an approach, which drew their eyes skyward. The outline of several shapes raced across the arc where the sun lingered beneath a layer of pale gray and sparkling stars, though few, still speckled the sky .
"Daha'et!"
"No," Vero refuted, his voice thick, choked. Rhan warily regarded the Masterhand. He was swallowing hard. "Shadowwraiths and you will fight now as you never have before. Prepare, Wizard and may God - or the Wakhanee, whomever truly owns this world - be on your side."
"How!" Rhan cried hoarsely while the creatures, circling their prey, prepared to descend. Watching them, he remembered the torment of those on the docks of Eldercity whose children had been taken.
"The Whirlwind-- I told you! I can't do this, Rhan, the power it takes would bring the Daha'et down on us and result only in our deaths."
"I can!" Rhan snapped fiercely, wondering if Vero was really telling the truth, but if they died now all would be wasted and his land would be destroyed. His heart cried out in vengeance for those lost children and their families.
"Then start! Form the whirlwind and suck the dark energy that keeps them alive. You'll leave only husks," Vero finished quietly. Many were once my friends and kinsmen, and many I have already killed and have killed mine-- and now many will be your own. Vero thought his heart would explode at the sight he faced for the second time in days, a vision he had hoped never to see again in his life.
Rhan panicked for a moment before steeling himself against the onslaught. Raising the index finger of his left hand, he traced the eye symbol on his cheek, calling the power to him. Lifting his staff with his right arm, he pointed it toward the sky while continuing to scroll with his left finger, tracing the tattoos that danced down his neck. He faltered for a moment for the words of the spell, it had been so long. It came to him with sudden clarity, and he heaved a sigh of relief. There was no time for failure - hindsight.
Elevating his left hand to join the right’s grasp of the staff, he offered a short prayer to the Wakhanee, and began to chant. Answering power surged through his body before entering the staff.
The Shadowwraiths landed silently in front of him, their red mouths the only color against black, fading forms, slitted open in amusement. Vero stood very still behind Rhan, trying not to draw attention to himself, fingers twitching. If he had to defend them, he would, but it might spell the end for him and for them, never mind Thamos and his family.
With a chaotic rush, a whirlwind exploded among the wraiths, but Vero knew it would not be strong enough. The terrible shrieks of the creatures were barely drowned out by the roar of the raging wind.
Villagers awoke to turmoil, their screams and shouts mixing wildly with the wind and screeching wraiths. Rhan stood his ground when one broke free, wafting toward him, its mouth open, exposing the dark pit of its soulless husk. Vero shrank back, words of power on his lips. He waited, suspended, as Rhan called the wind back toward them. The creature began to tug at his shadow, which oozed reluctantly from Rhan's grasp toward the blood red orifice. Rhan began chanting feverishly, stepping up the power, bringing a second puissant tornado to join the first. Vero dropped his own hands and tightened his lips. It was over.
Rhan fell to the ground, exhausted as the wind finished his battle and sucked up the paltry existence of the unfortunate wraiths, disbursing their energy into the disorganized sky.
"Rhan?"
"I'm fine, Vero, just very tired,"
"Is it this, Mch'raash?" Vero interrupted fearfully.
"No! I'm not that weak!" Rhan shot back angrily. "Look, I know we need to be away quickly, but first I need to rest then I want to hold back the jungle so it's not such a struggle for my people. Will the Daha’et miss these creatures?"
Vero shook his head. "Not likely for a while. Is it safe for you to do that? Use more power? Won't you…" He caught the look on Rhan's face and shut his mouth.
Rhan pulled himself into a sitting position then darted an angry glance at his companion. "I'm going to do it anyway. If worse comes to worse, you'll have to defend us."
Vero’s face drooped. "I thought you understood. It's not that I don't want to, or am afraid - I… I can't. We're not...ready to face them if they discover me. We must meet the Ghenosh first."
Rhan irritably waved him to silence. "I know. Just leave it and help me up." Once he stood and looked about, he realized the villagers had gathered enmasse and were staring at him in awe. Shock had deadened their voice but when Cerl gave a wild whoop they all let go and the Da’liesh was soon surrounded by the grateful multitude.
After a short reprieve, he backed away, explaining that he would place a spell on the perimeter of the village, keeping the growth at bay, at least for a time. Squinting up, his gaze following the others to the now blazing sun, he found, to his dismay, not only the sun, but the moon, many stars and a soft rain beginning to fall from a cloudless, yet gray sky.
Shaking his head when the villagers shrank from the sky in fear, he pulled his arcane from its pouch, dug his staff deep into the earth and proceeded to place the spell.
Following many handshakes and quick hugs from his family, though Ahlisha was strangely absent, the two were on their way, their laden ponies sighing unhappily beneath them.
"I don't think they want to go," Vero commented, referring to the ponies when Rhan stopped to place an offering at the standing stones, his prayers going to the Wakhanee, his mind on Ahlisha. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, not wanting to dwell on why the lack of Ahlisha's appearance upset him, and focused on Vero.
Rhan smiled up at him wearily. "Do you?"
Vero essayed a small smile of his own, but it did not reach his eyes.
Rhan sighed and mounted. He had smelled Vero's fear and loathing of the Shadowwraiths. There seemed more to it though. He also sensed compassion and sadness, and he knew when they faced Orn, his brother's death would be no easier now than it would have been on Thamos. They seemed to hold a bond even Rhan could not understand. He glanced sideways at the outsider, wondering uneasily if in the last moments Vero would turn on him, refuse to help him. But no, the sadness which puckered his slack features was wrought with resignation. Rhan could only hope Vero would come around before it was too late. He found he did not believe for a moment that Orn could be killed with a simple whirlwind as the Shadowwraiths had. There had to be more, but only Vero could tell him what it was.
Vero shifted in his saddle uncomfortably, unaware of Rhan’s thoughts or gaze. His heart and thoughts went to his family and friends on the Conclave. If his God was truly gone, or shared with others, then what did it matter who killed Orn? Or himself for that matter? Quite simply, Orn could not be allowed to return to Thamos and make alliances among Vero’s enemies! Did that mean Vero was prepared to take the risk and kill him if Rhan could not? His head slumped. He could not answer that - yet.
A shout brought the two men to a halt. Rhan turned in his saddle to peer down the road into the village. His father was coming at an ungainly trot, carrying the chattering Kesh. Rhan slapped his forehead. "The Kesh!"
"Ah," Vero smiled, his thoughts receding. He enjoyed the small creature very much.
"Rhan," his Da called loudly, "you forgot Lka. He is most unhappy!"
"I bet he is," Rhan muttered, rolling his eyes as his father came aside his horse. Once dismounted, he tied the cage to the side of his saddle and offered his apologies to the Kesh who chattered away indignantly, little arms folded across his chest angrily.
"Which way?" Vero asked, his gaze following Yhisc's now slow, shuffling departure - like the old man he was. Vero had been amazed to see the ancient puffing down the road toward them at such an unlikely speed.
"West. The road forks ahead and I hope it’ll be clearer that way. If it is, we might be safer, as before, to stay off the road, running the edge of it."
"I agree."
"What was that?" Even the Kesh was silent.
"I didn't hear anything."
"I'm sure I heard brush breaking beside us. It’s too dense to tell, though not as thick as it was by the dock road."
"True. Is there a place to stop along the road before this Rangeland you spoke of? Or will we have to pitch camp?"
"Rough it, I'm afraid." Rhan's eyes slid away from Vero, making the Masterhand nervous. "There is a Wakhanee temple near here, abandoned, a little off the road. We might be able to settle there tonight, leave an offering besides." Rhan glanced uneasily at Vero. "I've called for a meeting of Da’liesh there."
"Are you insane! Why? How will you explain me. Any one of them could be allied with my brother and you wouldn't even know!"
"I'd like to think I would." Rhan's voice was dangerously low.
Vero huffed impatiently. "I'll have to hide somewhere until it's over. What possessed you to do such a thing? I thought we'd agreed you'd cloud your mind to them."
"You agreed! There's plenty of forest for you to hide in, Vero. I don't have to answer to you." Rhan was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice trembling with fear—rage-- Vero couldn’t tell which. "I need to see how many come, who’s with us and who's against. I have no intention of telling them of you, or my dream."
Vero nodded with relief, but he was still angry.
Rhan, watching his pinched, white face, didn't care.
Vero watched the land pass by but refused to look up at the strange sky that menaced like a nightmare’s plane, drenching them with a soft rain. The forest growth was beginning to thin, allowing for easier walking, and by the time they headed west, following off the road was not much of a hardship. It kept them well hidden among the towering, moss laden trees.
Small animals as well as larger ones periodically crossed their path and Vero felt blessed by their presence and beauty. When a sloe-eyed doe stamped her foot in defiant warning before crossing their path, he felt his chest tighten at her lovely wildness and longed for the freedom she possessed. He hoped Rhan had packed himself enough food so he would not have to witness a hunt. As a child his brother had once taken him to a peasant village to watch the slaughter of stock. Bile rose in his throat when he thought of it even now. He raised a rain soaked hand to wipe the sweat of his memories from his brow.
Cocking his head, he listened enthralled to the chatter of the birds and soft singing of the Kesh, who had joined in, peaceful and lovely, soothing. It cleared his mind, a panacea to his hurts.
Neither man spoke much for the rest of that day, feeling out of sync with each other and the oddity of the sky, never mind the relentless rain that was slowly soaking through their cloaks. Rhan was occasionally disturbed by sounds that seemed to denote they were being tracked, but each time he road back and surveyed their path he could see nothing. It was likely only deer.
The drizzle finally stopped, leaving them to dry, steaming, in the sun. Colorful insects fluttered busily, their droning and buzzing a nuisance under the fierce fire of the sun. Vero swatted them away, wondering which ones stung.
A bulky cloud passed under the sun, leaving them in a shadow filled only by the gust of a cool breeze that ruffled even Vero's lank hair. He sighed and made to speak, but Rhan waved him to silence. Sidling up with his pony to Vero's side, he whispered, "Dragon. Don't move."
Vero bit back a shout. The thing he dreaded most about his own dream and Rhan's, he was finally to meet, for good or ill, with no handler to control it.
The forest was silent. Even the smallest animals ceased to move, the birds frozen on high perches. Their ponies stamped and fidgeted nervously and the men had to work to keep them quiet and under control. The Dragon circled overhead, its powerful eyes seeking out prey. Fortunately, the monstrous beasts did not have a masterful sense of smell, though their eyesight was keener than any living thing. There had been a day when the sight of a dragon brought gleeful cries but, with the increasing number of rogues and those that aided the Daha'et, caution was the wisest course. Rhan breathed out in relief as the red dragon's powerful form disappeared from view.
The trembling ponies had barely begun to walk when a wild scream sent both galloping toward the cry. Pushing their burdened ponies on at an unreasonable pace, their flanks heaving beneath the riders, they pounded toward the struggle.
"The temple!" They burst into a clearing. Rhan whirled his horse in a circle, searching the area which held a forbidding ancient stone ruin, swarming with deep ivy vines that clung to its diminished walls, and crawled stealthily across its face like ants on prey. Racing around the far side, they quickly found themselves upon the scene. A dragon, with humor in its dark, piercing eyes, advanced gleefully on a young woman.
"You would spoil my fun!" The large red called when Rhan came to a skidding halt before it, his pony trembling to the point of collapse. The beast wrapped a long tongue around its narrow nose, displaying two rows of glistening teeth. It's red skin sparkled with terrible beauty under the warring light of fading sun and dancing moon as darkness descended on them. "Pony is such a tasty treat. Stay, I'll finish with you for desert." He snickered. The dragon, eyes still intent on his prey, had not noticed the quick ward Rhan had placed on himself - they were arrogant, self absorbed creatures.
Rhan glared at the girl first. "I won't even ask, Ahlisha, what you're doing here!" Then returned his attention to the dragon. "What would the Assembly say to this?"
The beast flashed him a sickening grin that disappeared behind the spiralling smoke from his nostrils. "Do I look like I care? Why should we have to ally with you puny humans when you're so tasty and the Daha'et pay so well." His eyes flicked over Vero, who turned his head and vomited up his fear.
Rhan shook his head, ignoring the Masterhand. "You'll make me kill you."
The dragon laughed heartily. "If you can. As you can see, I'm a red and could fry you in an instant." He produced a small, shooting flame to make his point.
Reaching deep into his robe under the fascinated, curious eyes of the dragon, Rhan made as if to chant a spell but instead threw his dagger with such accuracy that it entered the dragon's brain with barely a sound. The beast died with the smile still painted on his scaly mouth.
Vero’s groan was the loudest noise around them, as he sank to his knees, realizing he had not even been able to compose a spell, had Rhan needed him.

TWENTY TWO

"Why are you here?" Rhan demanded harshly.
Ahlisha tried unsuccessfully to back away from his rage.
Vero, who had remained silent and terrified through the whole ordeal, did not wish to interfere now, though he pitied Ahlisha Rhan's wrath. Climbing shakily to his feet, he allowed the two to argue it out, knowing himself how it must end.
"Oh, Rhan, I wanted to come with you. My parents won't let me chose my own destiny." Now she was angry. "They say because I was...raped that I am spoiled, no good."
"They don't mean that!" Rhan interrupted.
"Oh but they do. I must stay home, be a good girl," she mimicked her mother's trill voice. "I cannot be a bard now, and I just felt, no, I knew," she declared with a fierce intensity, "that I must join you. I've dreamed of it. You wouldn't understand but don't turn me away, please Rhan. There is something for me to do here, for us together, something good to triumph over the ugliness of my life."
Rhan lifted her chin gently with a large hand, thinking how tiny and frail she was. He stared deeply into the yellow glowing eyes and felt his soul sucked from deep within him. He drew a deep breath and released it. "You could never be ugly. Go home, Ahlisha. Where we go is not safe."
"I know where you go." She was defiant. "I listened when you told Cerl. When I was at your house, Lka, told me I must go, only confirming my dreams and yours. Rhan, it's as important for me to be here as it is you. If you turn me away, I will simply follow on my own. I saw your dream when you showed it to Cerl, and I'm in it."
Rhan stared at her, aghast. She was as beautiful as ever, even dressed as a man in tight leather breeches and brais. A too large, sparkling green tunic was gathered at the waist by the golden belt that held her sword. Her large, yellow eyes, fearful and intense, sought out his. She nervously fingered the sword that adorned her side. Rhan knew she could not use it.
"I'll set up camp. You'll cook," he ordered. "But, be warned. I don't take kindly to spies."
Ahlisha only grinned and threw her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Rhan, for everything."
He shoved her away and went to unpack the animals, including hers, leaving her pouting and hurt, but only for a moment. She had won for now.
Vero, watching her, rejoiced in the loveliness of her glittering skin against the blazing yellow eyes, so alien to him, and in her carefree nature….the girl from their dreams. He knew why she was there, and knew it would only have been a matter of time before they sought her out. He wished for a moment she was not so lovely. With a destiny like the one which faced her now it would be so much easier were she not. He sighed, disgusted with himself. Would it be any easier were she ugly? He hoped not. He turned to study Rhan, relieved the other had not castigated his cowardice over the dragon.
The Kesh's voice exploded in Rhan's mind as he untied its cage. "She is needed, Thoughtmaster. You'll see."
Rhan did not speak, glaring at the little creature until it turned away.
Around a glowing fire, enjoying cups of ale, Vero wanted to know more of Ahlisha. "Tell me of yourself, your people, Ahlisha."
Rhan stiffened and turned away, but Vero ignored his silly anger and watched the girl, whose gentle beauty melted his heart.
"I am Tangmere," she announced proudly, her voice soft and husky, yet not deep. "Despite what my mother thinks, I'm proud of that. I guess, from what I heard you tell Cerl, you don't know what Tangmere is?"
He shook his head thinking that far too many people now knew who he was. Then he shrugged mentally. He would have to trust them. What choice did he have? This was their world not his.
"At eighteen, in just over a month…" She glanced at Rhan, whom the reminder was for. "I will render to the cat within me and become she when need arises. Only the women of my tribe are blessed with this blood, or cursed, as some would say. We hunt in such a manner, protect our young." she noticed Vero shudder but did not understand. "It is a gift from the Wakhanee. We still believe in the Wakhanee through the True One. The Elementals were never our deity. But my mother, to please Da, has taken to making offerings. Sadly, I have only ever seen my own people and land, once."
Vero smiled gently at her, trying to disperse his fear of her powers, realizing that she would have made an inspiring bard. "Your mother's shame is not shared by you. Wonderful! Well, you know my story so...."
"What of your land, though? Does it have villages and cities like ours? Everyone looks like you?"
"It's a small planet, and yes, everyone looks like me, boring, really after visiting your world." He faltered, remembering what Yhisc had said about the True Master. Mentally shivering, he took hold of himself when he felt their regard change to wariness. "Our cities are much different than yours, more...advanced. We live in tall buildings made of white stone unavailable here. The cities glitter and sparkle grandly under our massive sun and evening dalliance of our three moons. Yes, the towers of the Royals are truly spectacular."
Smiling he returned his gaze to Ahlisha. "We, of royal blood, use magic - sorcery," he amended, "for everything. The peasants and slaves feed us, care for us in many ways and in return we protect them from the elements, and the wild beasts that roam free, though outside city and village walls."
"So, not everyone does look like you, and you are like our Masters to these peasants and slaves?"
Vero was taken aback. "Well no. We are not Gods - masters yes, in one sense of the word, rulers, and it is the duty of those without royal blood to care for those with. It has always been the way. They are not mistreated….not really. They, peasants and slaves, do not live in our towers, however, though many come and go quite freely. All might enter the city," he finished grandly.
Ahlisha shook her head sadly. She did not understand all that he was saying. It sounded like a double edged sword to her.
Vero, watching, knew she did not like what she had heard, and he wondered, thoughtfully, if he himself did.
She changed the subject. "What about the Riders? You told Cerl they were machines. Are there many...machines on your world? And do you know if there are other peoples on other worlds?" She wanted to know as she imagined the stories she could tell were she a bard.
"Machines, and mechanical devices are very prominent on Thamos. As for other worlds, if there are our two, it's likely there are more," he admitted honestly, surprising himself. Ahlisha's grin lit his heart with joy and he noticed even Rhan smiled.
The Kesh, however, still remained painfully quiet and Rhan wondered how he would make up with it.
"You really don't eat meat?" Ahlisha finally enquired, as she remembered something else she had heard, her voice breathy with amazement. She was sure she must have heard that part wrong.
Vero shook his head, smiling indulgently.
Ahlisha was silent for a moment, placing her hands before the crackling fire, feeling its warmth as the coolness of night surrounded them.
Vero stared mesmerized at her face, glowing in the firelight. The gentleness of her speech startled him, her eyes expressing something he could not fathom.
"I will give you something to think about then, Masterhand. Were we on your world, I would be either your slave or a peasant, and we would not be having this conversation and you would not have known me."
Vero stared at her slack jawed, unable to comment on the truth and subtle cruelty of her words. His eyes stung with tears as she began to sing a hauntingly beautiful song, her voice as sweet as the spring's first robin's. When she finished, she took pity on him and asked gently, "Tell me of your family."
And I would never hear you sing.
******
"Ahlisha? Where are you, girl?"
Valera raced outside to where her husband was loading a wagon with wares to take to the city, he being a metal smith. "Ahlisha's gone, she's not in the house."
He smiled at his wife, amused by her concern. "She's just taken herself off for a walk. You worry too much."
"I have good cause to worry, Toam," she retorted darkly and his face flushed.
"I'll ask around. You go make the bread I'll be needin' for the trip to Eldercity."
She nodded but was clearly unhappy. When he returned later, empty handed, she felt her heart constrict with fear.
Searching frantically through their daughter's room they came across a note, lying haphazardly on her dressing table.
"She's gone. Ahlisha's gone. Oh my heart! She's followed Rhan. She says here, she must. It is meant to be and we are not to worry."
Ahlisha's father sank down on his daughter’s bed, burying his face in large, callused hands, covered with the burns of his trade, and began to weep. "It's our fault, love," he moaned. "We should have let her go to the city."
"Oh, my poor child. Why, Toam? Why were we so cruel to her?" She began to sob quietly. "This is my punishment for being less than a mother should. May she forgive us our harsh words where ever she be, and know only that we love her and wanted to protect her."

TWENTY THREE

Rhan woke Ahlisha, who had been dreaming of her parents, and Vero long before the arrival of dawn. He wanted them out of the way, well hidden, before his staff brothers arrived. The forest around the clearing was both deep and dark. They would not be seen by the Da’liesh, but could glimpse the proceedings easily enough.
"Take two of the ponies with you. I wouldn't be traveling with three. And make sure you stay well out of sight."
Vero nodded reluctantly. "You don't have to warn me, Rhan. I wish you had never planned this meeting."
"I know what you wish, but what I want is more important!"
They breakfasted quickly before splitting up, guzzling mugs of steaming coffee to warm themselves from the cold touch of pre-dawn. Vero kept glancing back as he departed with Ahlisha at his side. He feared for Rhan, but could well understand the man's need to meet with his kind. Soon enough, he would meet with his own.
"How about here?" Ahlisha asked, taking Vero's reins and tying the two animals to a tall tree.
She had, obviously, already decided, Vero thought with amusement, wondering why she had bothered to ask his opinion at all. The ground beneath them was soft, with deep, slightly damp moss, the trees tall, strong back rests. It was as good a place as any to sit and wait. They commanded an excellent view of the clearing but knew the darkness of the forest well camouflaged them, if they stayed still. "It'll do."
Ahlisha watched as Vero dropped to the ground and leaned back against a tree. "Was your brother always so frightful?" she finally asked with the naiveté of a small child.
Vero patted the ground beside him, wishing her to sit and could not help smiling suddenly with a fatherly fondness. He dearly missed his own wife and children very much. He hoped his own daughter would grow to be as wise and forthright as Ahlisha, yet maintain that childlike innocence. "No, not always," he answered as she arranged herself nimbly beside him. "There were times when he was kind. But I knew, right from the first, from childhood, that he had a dark side."
"You must miss your family very much." Ahlisha's eyes misted, her mind on her own mother and father, alone.
"I do, though as Masterhand, I don't spend as much time with them as I'd like. I am most concerned for their safety," he admitted in a fretful tone.
"I don't know if I would like your world, Vero."
He smiled but sadness pressed against the corners of his mouth and darkened his eyes. "I don't know if I do either. Shhh, they arrive."
Ahlisha leaned forward, straining to see the small group of black garbed Da’liesh enter the clearing, all coming, it seemed, from different directions, though at the same time.
Vero clicked his tongue. "Not many are there?"
Ahlisha stared ahead apprehensively, choosing not to answer.
Heralding their arrival, the sky's occupants still warred for domination of the new day. Rhan refused to look up. "This is it?" Rhan asked when they came together around his smoldering fire.
"This is it." The tallest of the group stepped forward. "These are all that will come to the aid of Ourshare. The rest side with the Daha'et, or are dead," he added bitterly.
"Lowering our numbers even more," Rhan muttered.
"Yes," another spoke lowly. "I wonder, if I kill one of those wraiths, just who I'll be killing, as it appears, from what I understand, some are the dead of our own."
No one commented.
"So, you'll stand by the people?" Rhan asked, peering intently at the small group, twelve in all.
"We will," yet another, smaller man said. "Though you should know, Rhan, Sham has gone over."
"Sham?" Rhan's voice was a whisper as he remembered the boy he had befriended when they had been taken to the mentors, and the long friendship that had followed. "I can't believe it." He had hoped Sham just delayed.
"Well believe it!" The tall one snapped. "We are all that's left. If they haven't joined they've been taken as wraiths or are hidden away like cowards. We'll have to close our minds to each other. One of us could go at any time." He regarded his staff brothers dubiously before his gaze flicked back to Rhan. "Why did you call this meeting?"
Rhan did not like the look or tone of his staff brother, and upheld his vow to tell them as little as possible. "I wanted to see how many of us had fallen."
"Then we'll call this meeting to a close. I, at least, have places to be."
"Wait, Thearn," Rhan grabbed at his robe. "Pray to the Wakhanee, the Elementals were never to be. We must return to the old masters."
The older man, taller than Rhan by a foot, smiled grimly. "Is that why you chose this place? Why do you ask such a thing - now?"
"Trust me…"
"I trust none," Thearn interrupted heatedly. He paused, staring thoughtfully at Rhan, gauging his integrity. "But I will pray to both Masters, for now, and may the true ones answer. I hope, Rhan, you would trust me enough to tell me anything you might know about the Daha'et."
Rhan averted his eyes. "If I can, I will. That's all I can say now. What about the rest of you? Will you pray to the Wakhanee?"
They nodded, some vigorously, others sceptical but, it was a beginning.
Rhan watched his brothers carefully for a moment, then with a determined glint in his eye admitted, "I cannot tell you more, yet, but I might be able to defeat this plague called the Daha'et. You must trust me and do what you can to aid Ourshare."
His staff brothers nodded in agreement, though many wore the mask of the doubtful, distrust, like draining oil, seeping from them. Only Thearn, however, appeared hurt and mystified by Rhan's reluctance to speak, the others just doubted. They parted dubiously, none feeling any more secure. Rhan shook his head in disbelief at what they had become. A wall he had thought could never exist now stood between them.
"Not many," Vero commented as he led his pony toward Rhan.
"You should have waited," Rhan snapped crossly. "They could be hidden to see what I'm about."
"No. They're gone. Their own fear and distrust hurries them on their way. Trust me."
Rhan glared at him but did not doubt the alien. He watched with his hands balled into fists while Ahlisha put out the fire and loaded their gear. Irritation goaded him. "I'll do that!" He finally grumbled.
"I'm fine," she returned happily, ignoring his tone as she gathered the Kesh to her for a hug before she tied his cage onto Rhan's pony. This, unreasonably, deepened Rhan's annoyance even further.
"What did they say?" Vero asked, redirecting his attention.
"That's all there is and one of my closest friends, Sham, has gone over." His voice echoed his disbelief. "Those left will protect those they can and pray to the Wakhanee, and the Elementals. That was the best I could do."
"I'm sorry, Rhan about your friend, but you've done well."
"We'll cloud our minds from each other now. It's the only way." Despair hugged his words.
The only way. Vero thought of those he cloaked his own mind against.

TWENTY FOUR

At dusk three days later, they came on Rangeland. The twilight lengthened the shadows around them and a cool breeze rustled the leaves in the trees. The sky spread like an empty painter's canvas, bereft of stars or pale moon, lit only by the milky glow of the dying sun. Rhan shook his head dismally.
Reaching down, he opened the Kesh's cage. The tiny creature fluttered its sparkling, glowing wings and landed between his pony's ears, lighting the way better than any lamp. Feeling confident with the Kesh's brilliant glow leading the way, they stepped back onto the once avoided road and passed between the symbolic stones into the village.
This village, Vero found on examination, was different from anything he had encountered thus far. It was built deeply into the side of the low grassy mountains, whose swollen humps marked the landscape. Few buildings sat along the main road. All homes and most businesses appeared to be buried deep within the stone walls. The skill of the stonemasons left a masterful impression on Vero.
His interest was piqued by one building in particular. It sat closest to the road but still within the walls of rock, it’s polished wooden door deftly engraved with a flowering tree graced by snow white petals. Questioning Rhan on it’s import and origins, he found it to be the home of the village Wisewoman.
Shifting uncomfortably in the saddle, Vero found his thighs ached from being stretched across the ample back of the animal beneath him. His back throbbed from sitting in the unusual position for so long, and his body was bathed in sweat. Heat, from the smoldering fires of the hidden, relentless sun burned down on them, though night was falling around it like a cloak. Only Ahlisha seemed not to sag in the saddle. He, for one, would be glad of both bed and broth on this night.
"Here, the livery's on the left and the inn's just across the way." Rhan’s voice, slight hoarse with fatigue, croaked.
Vero nodded. He was glad they edged the road. He was not sure if he wished to enter the walls of rock too deeply.
"Are there mines in these mountains?"
"Yeah. That's where Taoe will be coming from, the gem mines. This range is called Dragon's Back."
Vero dropped from his mount, gladly handing the reins to the stable boy, smothering a huge yawn as he pulled his pack free with a grunt of exertion he didn’t need.
Rhan put Lka back in his cage with a grateful word of thanks. He then hoisted his and Ahlisha's packs over his shoulder, carrying the cage in his other hand. With an unconscious swagger, he led his two companions to the roadhouse. Ahlisha's eyes followed him with a hunger he dared not recognize. To his mind, he relinquished her to childhood.
Vero, on the other hand, did notice and nothing about Ahlisha at that moment reminded him of a child. He was quite taken with the young Tangmere beauty.
When Rhan stopped to spit, Vero noticed the action now came almost naturally to himself, and hoped he wouldn't carry it home. He shuddered when Ahlisha bent to perform the superstitious act, so vulgar from one so exquisite.
The tinkling of the bell above the door rekindled Vero’s memory. "Is it really true you believe your ghosts or spirits walk and these trivial things are protection?"
Rhan spoke absently above the noise of the crowded bar, his eyes searching the throng for his old friend. "Yeah. I told you, if Soulstealer misses one...well, and if that one wasn't nice to begin with, death won't change a thing."
"Rhan!" The sudden roar of the warrior shook the room to silence.
"Taoe!" Rhan shouldered his way to the man's table and hoisted the hefty warrior into a fierce bear hug, his chain mail and weaponry jangling and clanking. "Your incarceration did little to diminish your girth, my friend!"
Taoe dropped to the ground with a thud. "Damn, it's good to see you. And who's this." His eyes lingered on Ahlisha, whose silvery skin beat an angry red. "No, it couldn’t be."
"Ahlisha," Rhan snapped to Taoe who had barely recognized this girl turned woman, almost overnight, in her masculine traveling garb. Taoe’s face softened and he smiled at her.
"It's a long story, old friend. The other with us is called, Vero, from Foreland." He waved a hand toward the Masterhand, who stood transfixed, staring at a majestic falcon perched on the table beside Taoe, its leather leads dangling to the floor.
"You like my bird?" the warrior asked with a grin and a wink. "He's the best hunter I've ever had." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, however, when Vero recoiled as if struck.
"Sit down, Vero," Rhan demanded. "You draw attention to us."
Glancing around, Vero found his companion was right. Many eyes in the crowded tavern were on them, particularly Ahlisha, who seemed to draw the most anxious glances, many filled with hate, others with lust - but most with fear.
Vero examined Taoe at his leisure while his two companions discussed their abuse in the mines, the death of Rhan's mother, which Vero noticed brought Taoe much grief, and the state of Rhan’s father. Ahlisha sulked at being ignored, oblivious it seemed, to the attention she was attracting. Vero wondered why Taoe did not mention his own kin.
He found Taoe to be of medium height, strong, but going to fat. His thick belly strained against the tunic and leather vest he wore under his heavy mail shirt. His face was well rounded, friendly in appearance, but that did not fool Vero. The heavy jowls attested to too much good living in the past. His lank, thin, dirty blond hair, hung in disheveled braids to his shoulders. His head sat perched above a stubby bull-like neck half hidden by his round beard, and he found the green eyes that twinkled with unknown emotion were regarding him, on occasion, in return. There were laugh lines around his meaty lips and the full beard only accentuated the stubby nose, but he was not laughing now as Rhan quietly finished their tale.
"....So, Taoe, we, I, need your help. I want to show you the dream crystal but not here." He peered around and found several eyes peering back. "Everyone is suspicious of everyone." Particularly Ahlisha and me, he thought grimly. "You have a room?"
"I do." The warrior's hooded eyes narrowed on Vero. "And you trust this one?"
Rhan shot Vero a warning glance. "I do." He shrugged. "Who knows what will happen in the end, if we survive...but for now, I trust him and I need his advice. Only he knows these creatures."
Taoe’s gaze remained fixed on Vero. "My trust must follow your lead."
Vero knew he would not be safe with this man. Warning and hate burned into him from the other’s gaze.
"Get your own rooms. Ahlisha and I will wait here. I would love to hear how she's been this last year."
Rhan scowled at his friend. "She's a child, Taoe. Remember that. Vero can wait with you."
When Rhan returned he seemed disproportionately angry.
"What," Vero demanded, having been ignored by Taoe in Rhan’s absence he was already on edge.
"The publican wanted to know why a Da’liesh, a Warrior and Tangmere have come to his house in these desperate times-- where our allegiance lay." Rhan's lips curled bitterly. "There's little trust in the south for Tangmereians and apparently even less for warriors, along with mercenaries, which is understandable-- but Da’liesh! I told him we need to speak with the Home Elder. He wouldn't even promise to pass on my message. And, to add to it all…" He sucked in his breath and blew out indignantly.
"Wait," Vero interrupted. "There's a difference between mercenaries and warriors?"
"There is!" Taoe snapped haughtily. "One fights only for the causes of good, the other for the cause of his coin pouch! And mercenaries," he added with relish, "must shave their beards." He stroked his lovingly.
"Ah, continue, Rhan." Vero eyed Taoe dubiously, knowing he must also gain a wage for his sword, whatever the cause.
"Well, there's only one room left. We'll have to share." He glared at Ahlisha. What good would she be on this mission. He was not a baby-sitter!
Taoe reached across the table and grasped Ahlisha's hand too tightly with his huge paw. "You are welcome to share with me, girl. I don't mind at all." Ahlisha's face suffused with red.
Rhan grasped the warrior by his belt and heaved him from his seat, whispering hoarsely in his ear. "You know who she is and what she's been through. For love of sky, man! Use your head and leave her be. She's a child."
"She's no child, friend and I do remember. How could I forget?" Then, peering into Rhan's angry eyes, he grinned. "Oh ho!"
"What!"
"Well, if you can't see it yourself, I'm not gonna tell ya." Laughing, Taoe gathered up his bird and shield and led the way through the masses into a narrow hall that traveled back to the guest rooms, his, third from the end.
Once settled, Taoe stared at the dream with wonder. "This sorcery is still as foreign to me as he is," he announced, jamming a thumb at Vero, his eyes pinning the Masterhand with their distrust, a distrust Vero agreed he deserved but traveling with the man might well prove difficult, if not deadly.
"You understand what we're up against - what our task is?"
"Task," Taoe snorted. "I'd call it a little more than a task. So where does she fit in? 'Cause that's certainly Ahlisha, but who's the other woman, the funny one with the dog?"
"Dog!" Vero and Rhan both leaned forward eagerly. "Da mentioned that. Remember Vero?"
The outsider nodded his head. "Hmmm, yes, but I’ve no idea what it means. I paid little attention, thinking him mistaken. I only saw a shadow."
Rhan nodded, wondering why it so clear to them now. A new recruit to aid the Wakhanee?
"I am needed," Ahlisha interrupted sulkily, speaking to Taoe. "That is what my dreams showed me. I want to help Rhan, and you, the way you helped me."
Taoe grinned and shrugged. "Fine by me. I haven't had this much fun since they sent me and Rhan against those rogue Hch'ape who took over that northern village. Remember Rhan?"
Rhan winced. That was when his wife had been attacked. "I remember. But this, Taoe, is not fun. This is life or death, not just for us but for our land."
Taoe's face dropped. "Always the serious one, Rhan, so formal, you don't need to point it out. I get the picture."
"Good. Now, I'm starved. How's the food?"
"Great."
"Let's eat then. Ahlisha, you'll sleep in my quarters, Vero in Taoe's," Rhan declared with no room for argument. When he turned his back, only Taoe, scowling at Rhan's command, noticed the small smile that played across Ahlisha's full lips.
He shook his head sadly. Rhan would never bury the memory of his wife deep enough to take on another. He had made his vow. His heart went out to Ahlisha, whom he pitied and cared for deeply.

TWENTY FIVE

Rhan, entering the room first, tossed their packs in a darkened corner before snarling, "You'll take the bed."
Ahlisha stared at the so called bed-- a straw pallet on the cold wooden floor-- and suddenly felt very young and homesick for the warm grassy floors of her own home. Her own soft feather mattress was lifted well above the ground on its strong frame where she could lie and hear the soothing sounds of her parents talking quietly in the other room while she drifted off to sleep.
She watched nervously while Rhan rolled out his blanket, unexpectedly unsure of herself. Perhaps Rhan was right. She was still a child. Her bottom lip trembled and she scrambled quickly onto the bed, turning her face to the wall so that he would not see her tears, glad when he doused the light.
They lay together, yet separate, the silence between them as taut and heavy as an anchored weight. Rhan, frustrated, could no longer ignore Ahlisha's near silent sobs. "What's wrong," he demanded roughly.
Ahlisha sucked in air, choking back her whimpers. "Nothing!"
"Ahlisha, look, I'm sorry. You should not have come. I don't know why you had those dreams or why you're in my dream, but maybe...you should go home. You're not prepared, you're…"
"No!"
Rhan sat up and shifted his to face her, only to find her sitting inches from his nose, her scent filling his nostrils with desire. He recoiled in shame. "You'll stay here."
"I will not! I'm meant to come and you can't stop me. Even Vero agrees. To him, I am not a child."
"And who knows what makes a woman on his world!"
"I know what makes a woman, Rhan, and I am one," she said softly, sadly.
Rhan made to speak then stopped. Who was he to order her about, make her choices? He heard her take a deep breath as though a decision had been reached. She rested a slender, soft hand on his arm and felt him flinch, but did not retract it.
"I want to be near you."
"No," he choked on his thick, strangled voice. "I have already given my heart - once. I won't again - ever. You're too young to think of such things." Rhan could not explain that he had grown, in the last two years since his wife's death, a deep, unrelenting, unforgiving fear of being loved or loving; fear of pain he had caused and felt; fear of the soul bearing and heart eating fervor they called love. Never mind the vow he had taken with Taoe as his witness.
"Really, Rhan," she cried, exasperated. "I'm nearly eighteen! A woman to my people and yours!"
"And I'm old enough to be your father."
Ahlisha turned away. "It's because of Etan, because I'm ruined and you had to kill your brother - for me." Her voice cracked.
Rhan shoved aside both his sense of absurdity at the conversation, and the image of Etan on top of Ahlisha that crowded his brain. "No, no, Ahlisha. It's me. In my heart I'm a murderer. I deserve no love. There's so many things you can't, don't, understand about me. I gave my heart to Sesha and I fear it died with her." When I failed to protect her, he thought morosely. A failure I won't repeat with you.
Ahlisha caressed his shoulder in a gentle massage. "Then let me bring it back to life."
Rhan felt her brush his lips with her own before he heaved her away. He groaned at the pain in his loins. "No. This isn't the time. You’re only doing this because it's me who saved you, but someday you'll thank me when you find one your own age to love, someone gentle."
He felt, rather than saw, her turn away, the coldness of it, and thought his heart turned to stone with her anger. His honor was all he had left. He planned to keep it. He made a silent vow to Ahlisha's parents to bring her home safe, whole and unharmed, just as he had made a vow to his dead wife, a vow only he and Taoe knew of. He would never love another. Those vows were all he had left, who he was---the remainder of his pride, the definition of his soul.
Vero had no better night locked in with the taciturn Taoe, who fired question after question, disbelieving all the Masterhand's answers. He could not understand why Vero had not slain his brother and hated him for the damage done to his world through Vero.
Vero himself was frustrated at the bindings placed on him by the Word, and by the pain he caused and could not erase. He was not a born deceiver, and wished only to be free as well as Orn, home with his family. He wondered if perhaps he should just tell Rhan everything now and free himself from the burden of the secrets he kept, but no, he knew he could not. It would be too much and he himself was not yet ready to face it all. Perhaps the Ghenosh would do it for him. Perhaps, it would be different here than on Thamos. No, he was being silly and wistful. Who would he betray in the end, Thamos or Dlrow? Oh why, did Ahlisha have to be so lovely.
They ate in numb silence the following morning with eyes bruised, shadowed and unwilling to meet. The innkeeper was well glad to see the back of them when they left, coin or no. He had heard that all mercenaries and Da’liesh had joined the Daha'et, and a great many warriors, city guardsman, and archers, dragons just to add to their woe. Trust no one was his motto. As for Rhan's parting words to pray to the Wakhanee - ha! He would pass word onto the Elder but that was all. He had still refused to introduce them. The Elder, his brother, was under enough strain.
After securing ponies for Taoe and Ahlisha, whose own was too elderly for such a journey, they purchased chain mail for the girl and prepared to depart south for Ghenosh lands. They were following the web of the dream.
After breakfast, Taoe had produced a well worn, dog eared map that presented a shortcut to Spray Village. It ran through a large, heavily forested area, though, that appeared to belong to one of the elder races known as the Quixh. Few, to their knowledge, traveled that way as little was known of the area. Spray was the closet human village to the Ghenosh and they planned to stop and re-supply, hoping to find friendlier faces.
They stopped in front of the wares store for flint where the Elder finally came upon them. He followed them in, unfriendly and uncooperative. Rhan slapped his coin on the counter and left him in disgust.
Vero shook his head. "Seems not all are worth saving."
Taoe whirled on Vero. "Before your monsters arrived, people were not like that here. This is your doing, Vero," he spat with hatred. "The land's changed. Hearts have changed. It'll be a blessing if you die with your brother."
Vero’s face was grim, his lips white, but he did not speak.
"Taoe," Rhan warned as they passed through the usual standing stones, their ponies groaning under the laden packs slung over their rumps. The Kesh's loud jabbering seemed the only jovial sound in the entire village.
Vero waved a dismissive hand. Rhan watched them uncomfortably. Taoe had not seen Vero's powers, Rhan had. "He has a point and is entitled to his opinion, my friend."
Rhan sagged in relief. He, however, could hear the hurt in the Masterhand's voice, a hurt Taoe appeared oblivious to.
Ahlisha kicked her pony into a trot, riding up to Taoe’s side. "That was unkind!" She snapped, her yellow eyes blazing.
Taoe, who had been about to retort in kind, felt the fear that suddenly filled her eyes. "What?" But he need not ask more as a twirling tornado charged through the trees without slowing, about a mile away, bearing straight for Rangeland.
"My God!" Vero's mouth fell open, hands flailing at his side. "Do something!"
"You do something, Outsider! I don't buy your story about being unable to help. Scared, that's all!" Taoe fairly screeched.
Vero turned to him in surprise. "Think what you will." The small tight smile on his lips was grim. He did not wish to have a cowardice he knew too well pointed out to him by a stranger.
"Quiet! Rhan’s chanting," Ahlisha called over the roar the wild wind whipped up, ripping through the forest where it had no business to be, uprooting trees and flinging its finds about like a vengeful puppy.
Behind them, the Da’liesh had dropped from his mount to the ground. His staff pointed skyward while his fingers frantically traced the etchings. He opened his mouth and short gasps of the strange tongue of power escaped. The others, still trying to control the panicked ponies, hit the ground near him.
A wall of wind shot up from Rhan and spun toward the whirling mass, encircling it, strangling it like a constrictor its prey. With a short, sharp gasp, the tornado dissipated-- it was over. The villagers, who had silently gathered behind their champion, awaiting their fate, cried out with relief.
Perhaps, the Elder thought, Rhan could be trusted, taken seriously. His grave eyes and solemn face turned toward the stones that he had so long prayed to. He wondered if the Wakhanee would ever accept an offering from his people.
Taoe, flashing dark, scowling glances at the Masterhand, handed his reins to him, then moved to help Rhan onto his horse. Vero only shrugged and sighed. Taoe was right, however, fear played a large part in all of the Masterhand's decisions, not just for himself but for Thamos, his family, Dlrow and his companions.
He felt someone at his side. Ahlisha’s small silver hand reached out and grasped his white one. "Just ignore Taoe, Vero. He’s a good man. He’ll come ‘round."
He could not help but smile into the eyes of her simple compassion.

TWENTY SIX

Itar slumped before Orn. "Have you found news of my brother? Is he here, with this Da’liesh?"
"We are sure he is, Orn, but proof we don't have. My mind is fogged when I focus on him and he has not used his powers since that first time you sensed him. Many are searching. I have spoken with those you commanded me to and won their association, though I am sure for reasons of their own. I don’t trust them. They're powerful beings in their own right. I have only just returned myself," he added, chagrined.
Orn studied his friend. "Rest then. We have time," he finally offered with what sympathy he could yet muster.

TWENTY SEVEN

After three days of slogging through mud churned trails under a steady stream of icy rain, they arrived at the narrow, deeply embedded creek that bordered Quixh land.
Rhan gazed up at a sun that seemed to dance from place to place in the recently cleared sky. He rubbed at tense shoulders, sighing heavily, wondering if the land could ever be cured of the affliction the Daha'et had cursed it with. Taoe had been haranguing him the entire journey thus far for trusting Vero, and his friend's voice was grating and wearing thin. Ahlisha was sullen and rarely spoke, the sparkle gone from her eyes as though the rain had washed it away. He turned toward her and sighed once more. She would not look at him. He watched her sideways, hating the shame and anger that wafted from her like an offensive odor.
Only another I have destroyed, he mused morosely. Had he not driven his wife to Etan's home by being away so much? Were not the death's of both his fault? He shook his head to clear his thoughts and got a nasty bite of his own ripeness. He would not think of Sesha's unborn child, or the self pity he had allowed himself to wallow in.
"Wet dogs smell nicer than us," he mumbled, then added so the others could hear, "We'll camp under the trees on this side of the creek. The road's not far and we're close to water but still not on Quixh land. At least the rain has quit."
"I thought we wanted to stay off the road?" Vero yawned as he dismounted and gladly peeled off his rain soaked cloak. He peered at the sodden garment with disgust. At home they had materials that protected one from the rain.
"We do, but here we can see any who pass. Not that there’ll be many. Travel seems to have all but the stopped."
"What do you know of these Quixh?" Vero asked Rhan while they pitched camp beneath a thick circle of limp birch.
Taoe started a small fire so Ahlisha could heat some broth before he unmasked his falcon and wandered off to hunt for rabbit in a clearing they had passed. He would not eat dried meat unless forced too, not after a year in the mines. Vero ignored his departure.
"Not much," Rhan finally answered, settling himself near the fire which he banked and stirred. "They are of the Elder race. Their powers and appearance are different than ours though I have heard similar. Human, yet not. I've never passed this way before. Not many dare cross their land uninvited. There are tales of some not returning, others...were left in peace." He shrugged.
Taoe returned shortly, proudly bearing two small bloodied corpses. Vero blanched and turned away as the warrior shoved them under his nose. "Like I told ya, best huntin' bird around." He stroked the falcon affectionately before setting him back up on the perch that rode high on his pony, then handed him some of the meat. "Your prize, Rhawan." The rest he cleaned and gave to Ahlisha to add to the broth. "Fresh meat is always a treat," he commented happily, "on the road, though not to your liking, I understand," he added with false sympathy.
"Please," Vero called to Ahlisha. "May I have mine now?" He smiled widely in gratitude when he realized Ahlisha already had a small bowl set aside for him. Taoe only frowned, annoyed his fun had been ruined.
Frowning, Rhan interrupted them. "Now that you're back, I'm going downstream for a quick bath. I won't be far. Be nice," he added sternly, glancing at Vero who, his eyes turned studiously away from the gorging bird, had not yet recovered.
Taoe's eyes twinkled mischievously, but he nodded. The warrior shuddered and grinned at Rhan. "You’re braver than me, too damn cold by a long sight."
Rhan splashed contentedly in the chilly water, dunking his head and scrubbing at the thick braids. His abandoned robe lay on shore, steaming under the warmth of the fading sun. He hoped it would be nearly dry when he placed it back on. The cloaks had afforded little protection from the rain. He rose slowly from the river, stretching his body to relieve the tension that suddenly increased tenfold as a voice called his name, then was choked to silence.
Ahlisha stood rigidly before him on shore. Her mouth, hanging open, was quickly covered by her hand as she shrouded a shriek.
Startled by the sudden exploding heat in his loins, Rhan sank back into the cool, impersonal embrace of the water.
Covering her eyes, she cried, "I'm sorry, I only wanted to tell you dinner's ready. It's.. it's getting dark. I'm sorry." She was near sobbing at their shared embarrassment.
"Get out of here!" He watched the girl turn and flee with burning eyes and trembling limbs. It was some time before he could get out of the water and join his companions for their meal, and when he did, he realized, rancorously, that those were the first words Ahlisha had spoken to him since they had departed Rangeland.

TWENTY EIGHT

"Shh. A Raven," Rhan whispered suddenly into the darkness. His tense face was lit by soft firelight and glow of the Kesh, whose singing they were enjoying while wrapped in their own silences. The bird cried hoarsely above them and Rhan, staff in hand, reached out with his mind.
"Someone is searching for us. The dark does not matter to her…a dog. She must be the one from the dream." He thanked the raven, then spoke soft words of power. "Be my eyes." Grabbing the Kesh's cage, he held it out into the night and began to follow the raven through the patchy, yet dense forest, his eyes seeing the land as it would be from the bird’s precarious view. It was not long before he found the two whom he searched for and returned to camp.
Among his companions, staring deep into eyes that appeared white and empty, he demanded to know who she was. The shaggy brown dog at her side growled low in its throat, a warning, the hair rising on its back. Only the chattering of the Kesh seemed to calm it. Rhan tried to shush him but the little creature jabbered on, its voice pitched low to the dog.
"I am Finnuala of Lahile."
Rhan frowned. "So far north? Why are you here?"
"I'm searching for one called, Rhan of Waterside and his companions. I...I was told I must come." Rhan, studying her, noticed her knees trembling with fatigue or fear-- he wasn’t sure--and the gauntness of her staring, serene face. Her long, thick hair was worn free, cascading down a straight, proud back. The twinkling firelight enhanced it's blueish gray coloring, highlighting the silver streaks that glittered brightly. Her narrow, too long face, was not beautiful but regal-- compelling, compassionate. Many would share a secret with such a face. She wore only a long blue shift and thick white cloak, though a short sword decorated the silver belt at her waist. He wondered if she could use it.
His own face softened as he searched her eyes for recognition, wondering at the cane she clutched in her hand, and the emptiness of her orbs. "You are tired, hungry, please, join us. I'm Rhan, and this is…."
She cut him off. "I am blind, Rhan. My sight was taken from me when the gift of healing was placed in my hands." She reached out white hands and groped for his face. He leaned toward her, allowing the touch. "You are Da’liesh and of Waterside. You must be he." She nodded satisfied. "Yes, I am tired and so is my dog, Raece."
Once they were settled around the fire, he handed her the stewed broth, whose aroma ignited his own appetite again, and asked why she searched for him. The Kesh, free of its cage, fluttered protectively near Finnuala. Rhan glared at him in annoyance, but Lka refused to leave.
"The Wakhanee….they call me in my dreams. They need my help, and I have seen, through my dreams, that you go to aid them. They can not survive without Raece and me. The healing is their gift to me so that it is possible for me to carry out this task."
"Raece," Rhan stared at the dog, unnerved by its direct gaze.
"Yes. So, it is true that one from away is here. I sense his presence. The Wakhanee showed me."
"That's me." Vero spoke quietly before placing himself in front of the healer so that she could trace the lines of his haggard face, a face that had aged many years in but a few months time.
Squeezing his hand, she whispered, "Your heart breaks, I know."
The Masterhand turned away so that none would see his tears should they fall, while Rhan, after introducing them in turn, told their story yet again.
"And you have no idea of what the Ghenosh will tell us?" she asked easily, including herself in the group.
Rhan shook his head, his gaze on Vero. "No. I've never even met a Ghenosh." He sighed, feeling well out of league with those who bordered Soulstealer's home.
The healer nodded her head in response. "We have many tales of the proud Ghenosh and their winged lions, their care of the dead-- keepers of the Book of Shadows, or Tome of Dead as we know it. Their strange powers, which are said to be linked to their own dead. I only wish now I knew more." She shot Vero a strange look with her empty eyes. "And how would you kill these Daha'et?"
Vero was silent for a time, Rhan and Taoe had also asked him this. "Like the wraiths their energy must be taken," he admitted, but didn’t add that it couldn’t be done in the same way.
"Black souls," Rhan muttered dismally. "Will they die in the same manner as the wraiths?"
"I will say no more. Not yet."
"Of course not," Taoe spat.
Vero held up a hand to halt him. "Let your Ghenosh speak. Remember, your ways, your powers differ from mine, and even I cannot kill six Daha'et, an army of wraiths and whatever aid they've picked up among your kind. I am here to guide," he reminded them woodenly, as though quoting a mantra. It sounded hollow even to himself.
"They wouldn't be here if not for you!" Taoe shouted, springing to his feet, sword in hand with a swift, sure motion.
Vero didn't even flinch. "No one's disputing that, Warrior, but trying to kill me now gains nothing."
Taoe sat down under the pressure of Rhan's hand. Ahlisha shifted to his side, murmuring soothing words, gaining strength from his nearness rather than Rhan’s. Vero looked up at Rhan wordlessly, feeling his friend's sudden distrust like a death blow, but he would not tell even Rhan what he needed to do. He did not know, for certain, or so he convinced himself, how it would be done on Dlrow, only the Ghenosh could answer all of Rhan's questions, and his own. He must hear them first. He must protect himself, Thamos and his own family, and through his silence-- Dlrow. The less they knew for now, the better. He snorted at himself in disgust, thinking perhaps his convictions were only an excuse for weakness. His gaze fell on Ahlisha and he sighed wistfully, hoping what he believed to be the way to kill the Daha’et, Vero’s way, was wrong for Dlrow.
The healer, whose staid face had been grim, suddenly smiled. She laughed, a tinkling, fragile sound that seemed to erupt from the presence of the glowing Kesh who fluttered near her ear. Obviously, Rhan noticed through narrowed eyes, after not a word to him since Waterside, it had chosen to speak to her. The dog flicked a long tongue in Lka’s direction, nearly soaking him. Taoe's Falcon, wishing the warrior’s attention, uttered a piercing cry.
"Oh yes," Finnuala agreed aloud. "I'm sure he's very handsome."
Rhan, who blushed furiously as Ahlisha giggled and Taoe grinned, stepped neatly between the two. "It's time to douse the light, Lka," he snapped as the little creature chattered on happily. Equanimity had been restored.
Unable to sleep, Rhan roused the Kesh during the night and stole a way from the group to study his arcane of spells, renewing his confidence along with his memory. Vero's reluctance to speak of battling the Daha'et continued to disturb him deeply and he began to wonder just what he had to do to kill them and how Ahlisha was involved. Did Vero know? He could never force an answer from the Masterhand. Setting aside the book, he turned to the dream once more, studying its every nuance, his distrust or confusion of the Assembly increasing each time he peered into the flowing surreal scenes. Perhaps, it was only one dragon in particular the dream pointed to. But who? And how would they know?
Why, he wondered anew had the Kesh called him Thoughtmaster? He had tried to ask, but the little beast only chattered on happily and would not answer, leaving Rhan confounded. His last thought before he dozed were of the other terrible names Lka had given him-- Bane of Souls, Master of Soul's Bane.

TWENTY NINE

They awoke the following morn eager to be on their way, under a large bright sun that rose magnificently. While Ahlisha and the healer prepared breakfast and coffee, Rhan gazed into the crystal silently. It was going to be a long day. He had hoped to travel to Spray within three day's time, but it was, in reality, a five day journey from where they rested. The shortcut Taoe offered them appeared to take at least a day and a half off the entire ten day excursion, well worth the effort and subtle threat of the Quixh.
Studying the fleeting scenes, he tried desperately to understand the visions that rose up around the Ghenosh, who were but shadowy images. He was not even sure how they knew it was the Ghenosh, but everyone who saw the dream did. He could not explain it. It seemed out of his realm of imagination.
He shot Vero an unusually dark glance. He knew the Masterhand had an idea of what the dream entailed, what the Ghenosh would tell them, and did not understand why he would not share it. His secretiveness would lead to distrust from more than just Taoe--had led to, if Rhan was to be honest.
His gaze moved to Ahlisha, smiling as she stirred the oats swarming in boiling water and smiled in response. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned toward him, her smile widening. He had to yank his eyes away with force, his heart thudding with the relief of her seeming, sudden forgiveness. Taoe, he noticed, sat close enough to her side that she brushed his arm every time she moved. Rhan felt a red hot searing pain in his chest and turned away.
Ahlisha ducked her head. His gaze left her wondering if she could ever control her reactions toward him. She was supposed to be angry and rightly so.
The healer and her dog sat silently, listening to the muted sounds of their companion. She tried to picture them from the Kesh's descriptions, but it was difficult. The gift of healing, which came only through blindness, was very new to her. She still felt deprived. How could it be a gift if it took something so precious in return?
She reached out to stroke the dog with a shaking hand. She was not worthy of such a gift. Tears fell as she chastised herself for her bitterness over the loss of her sight. The dog, Raece, had appeared at her side as her sight had vanished. She knew he was also a gift, part of the deal. He was now her eyes, her friend. He was also her assistant in healing. She shifted to the left and could feel the presence of the outsider near her. The pain that emanated from him was so strong she thought she could reach out and grasp it, hold it to her and heal it, but she knew instinctively she could not heal the heart. She also sensed he was hiding something from them, but she, at least, from her reading of him, knew it was not done meanly, or easily. She pitied him such a burden.
After the light meal, plied with caffeine, the group led their ponies across the narrow creek onto Quixh land. Finnuala sat astride Rhan's pony with her dog swimming strongly behind. The creek was surprisingly swift and deep, nearly sucking Ahlisha under, but Taoe's strong arm pulled her up, absurdly enraging Rhan even further, though he could not understand why. Taoe was his friend, true, a trusted ally. Ahlisha was nothing to him, but he had made the vow to her parents, silent or not, and he would not allow Taoe too much access to her-- or so he reasoned.
Setting foot on the far bank, they found the forest quickly thickened impenetrably around them, the path, a snarled tangle of dark green vines and heavy growth. Once sure all his companions had crossed safely, Rhan turned to study their surroundings. He lifted his gaze to peer through the throng and gasped as a heavy fog marched toward them, wafting through the trees as menacingly as the body of a vast army.
"Fog! And the trail is thick, overgrown, obviously unused." He shot Taoe a scathing look, but the warrior only shrugged. He was busy wrapping an arm around Ahlisha, who shivered in her wet cloths under the dank wind that carried the fog toward them and blocked out the dancing rays of the sun. Rhan trembled as he watched them but not from cold. His eyes, iced with frost, met Taoe’s. The warrior dropped his arm as if burned.
Rhan refocused gaining control of his emotions. "Let's try walking up a way. We’ll lead the ponies. Taoe you lead Finnuala astride mine. I know, from the map, where the path lay before the haze moved in, perhaps we can follow it through once we're on top of it."
Rhan led the way up the bank with the map clamped tightly in his hand, the others following closely behind. He could hear Vero's ragged breaths, and Ahlisha's chattering teeth. Both Taoe and the Healer were silent, but her dog growled low and deep, a sound that worried Rhan more than the sight of the pressing fog.
Opening the Kesh's cage, Rhan wished he or any Da’liesh held a spell for simple light, but they had been gifted the kesh instead. Vero, he realized bitterly, could probably produce such a thing. The Da’liesh allowed Lka to fly ahead.
Taoe, who had stopped to pull the mask over Rhawan's face as the bird danced restlessly on his perch, called out to Rhan, who had also stopped in his tracks. "I don't like this. Where are we?"
Vero, beside Taoe and Finnuala, watched the bird nervously, always drawn to its ferocious beauty. Something was wrong. All the animals were nervous, fidgeting.
Rhan sniffed the air deeply. "We're in a clearing and this fog-- it's not natural. I can smell the power now. I couldn't before. We must be close to it’s source." Raising his hand to his face, he began to call his sorcery but the effort was cut short when the mist evaporated and rough hands griped his wrists in a vicelike hold.
The companions, now captive, stood transfixed, staring at the Quixh's glorious forms-- human, yet not. Circling them, the Quixh stood tall and proud before their hostages. Their naked bodies, though very thin, were near perfect in form. Long, argent hair cascaded straight down their backs, man and woman, to match piercing shimmering eyes. Even Ahlisha’s skin could not compare.
Vero gawked at them along with his companions, but the look that filled his eyes was far from admiration, more akin to horror. Could the others see, he wondered, my God, it's like looking into my own face, only the colors are different. The lines, the form... Dread sunk in. We are kin, all of us, joined and fashioned by one creator. It's true. There’s no denying it now. It's why I heard the Wakhanee. My God has left me. The Masterhand, deflated, nearly sobbed. He thought he might spill his guts at their feet, his arrogance at his own superior creation and self assurance evaporating like the fog that had once trapped them. Now, he had nothing. Nothing. All he had ever believed, ever known, tried to deny, gone in an instant. Truth tore through him, gutting him like an enemy's sword. Could he have killed Orn, and prevented all of this?
Oblivious to Vero’s distress, Taoe grinned at the naked beauty before him.
Rhan, his shock fading, turned to look at Ahlisha, whom he found, to his annoyance, was watching their captures with much admiration.
Finding courage in his anger, he shouted, "What do you want?"
"We are to detain you." The apparent leader spoke while several Quixh began to unpack and scatter their ponies, laying their packs in a heaping pile. Lka's cage and Rhawan’s perch were carefully placed on the ground, along with the group's weapons.
"In the normal course of things we would not bother with the antics of the lower race but the Daha'et appear to be a source we wish as allies, if they are to remain." The one who spoke shrugged, languidly, it mattered little to him. "Besides, we have our own purpose."
At that choice moment, a city rose up around them, filling the meadow with its shining white stone walls and towering columns.
Rhan gasped. "How is this possible? There's no such stone on Dlrow."
Vero, head slung low and defeated, knew how.
The speaker sneered at his idiocy. He waved a hand toward Vero, who still did not look up. "Like the Ghenosh, and him, we are the sorcery, as you call it. We, the Elder races, are the first Children of the True Master who made this world, but he's long gone and only the Wakhanee survive - your keepers." His disgust was obvious.
Rhan nodded. It was as his father had said, but it was to the Wakhanee he must pledge allegiance, not their long forgotten creator. "So, what is it you want from us, your purpose?" he asked, trying to swallow his nervousness.
"Our daughter is ill. She contacted one of your vile diseases when she determined she wished to see you, to walk among you, our cousins, she said," he spat in disgust, then choked on a sob. "We cannot cure her, and though we were undecided about aiding these Daha'et, now that you travel with a healer, and our needs are combined…. We will keep the healer and hand the rest of you over to them. The Daha'et felt there was one of their own traveling among you and wished to know for certain." The Quixh levelled his indifferent gaze at the Masterhand.
Rhan, standing near, felt Vero's fear and abhorrence. It slammed into him like a blow, though he could not understand its true source. Finnuala shivered as it slid through her then returned to its owner.
"Don't you want to help the Wakhanee? That's why the healer has come. She's needed!"
The Quixh snorted, but spoke slowly, as if to a very young child. "Have I not just told you that we are the Elder race. Our power does not depend on the Wakhanee, only you require them to remain. We could survive without their care, though Dlrow around us would continue on in its chaos, our land would remain untouched by its course. One of the Daha'et will arrive within the next few days to collect you. In the meantime…."
Finnuala interrupted calmly, "I will stay and heal your daughter. Let the others go."
"Well, no, I don't think so. That would make the Daha'et our enemy if they found out, and I don't want that." He waved his men forward. Bows now slug across their slender backs, swords were raised in hands that a moment ago were empty, though that kind of weaponry was really not necessary for the Quixh. Rhan stared in horror. "Besides," the Quixh added calmly, "you, came to us."
Rhan whirled toward Vero as a groan escaped the trapped Masterhand. Slowly, he raised his hand and all but they and the Quixh who had spoken, stood frozen, rooted to the ground. His companions stared at him, stunned, but Taoe managed a grim smile, wondering if he had been wise in haranguing the outsider. "Let's get out of here, I can't hold them long or my own will sense me. This takes great energy," Vero snapped hoarsely.
Finnuala turned about in the confusion waving her hands. "Wait, please, I wish to heal the daughter before we go."
"What!" Vero shouted at her, enraged. "I warn you I will bring the entire Daha'et and their hosts down on me-- us," he amended quickly but the soft pleading lines of her compassionate face, the peering, empty eyes tore his heart. "Hurry then," he snapped.
The Quixh stared at them astonished, "You would help us."
"I will. Where is she--- quickly."
The creature glided to her side as though floating. Vero slumped even further, as here, on this barbaric world, he watched the movement and grace of his own people in the form of another. Leading Finnuala by the wrist to a white stone temple, the Quixh stopped at her side and whispered, "She lies at your feet."
"I wish I could see her," Finnuala murmured as she bent over the stricken daughter of the Quixh.
A Quixh guard watched with lips pursed in concern but frozen like the others, unmoving as his leader watched the healer begin her ministrations. Sitting on her heels, Finnuala waited while Raece walked up and down the still form, his nose sniffing and snuffling feverishly. With a frantic yelp he moved to Finnuala's side, leading her to the area afflicted with disease.
Finnuala reached out long, narrow fingers and lay her hands over the spot, warm only to her touch. She felt pain rip through her and moaned aloud, nearly falling over. Rhan made to grab her but Raece barked in warning. He darted to and fro, guiding Finnuala’s hands.
Finnuala closed her eyes tightly and envisioned the pain, making it her own. She sighed in a long, low exhale, as it formed in her mind, where she rolled it tightly into a ball then squashed it and put it away. With trembling hands she probed the area, searching for the source of the pain until she came upon the white flare of disease that lit her mind. This she burned until only ashes remained, and her mouth was thick with their taste, her nostrils with the scent of burning flesh. The Quixh daughter’s groan was all she heard before she passed out.
The dog rose and looked at Rhan, his gaze level and trusting. Now, pick her up, its eyes encouraged. The Da’liesh moved forward and lifted the prone form of the healer, whose weight was barely more than a child's.
"Now, we go," Vero ordered, his voice laden with fatigue.
"Wait, how long will my people remain like this?" the Quixh leader inquired nervously, his eyes on his people. Taking in Vero's true form for the first time, he noticed more than just his power. He dropped his eyes in recognition of one akin to him, yet more powerful, and bowed low.
Rhan, watching them, wondered what it was all about but remained silent.
It was obvious the entire population had turned out, and sadly, they were few. Rhan wondered about their breeding, his eyes going from one slender body to the other.
Noticing Rhan’s searching gaze, the Quizh spoke bitterly. "Yes, we are a dying race. I will speak honestly now. Our allegiance lay with the True Master, without him who knows how much longer we will survive. Our powers weaken. Our people die."
Rhan swung toward Vero as the Masterhand groaned in anguish and slumped forward, unsupported, but he did not fall.
"The daughter is the last child born to us and she belongs to all."
Rhan stared sombrely at the Quixh woman who was no child, and despite his treatment, was saddened by this. He felt the massive changes in his world related and unrelated to the Daha'et all around him, and his heart quivered with despair.
His voice trembling and low, Vero finally found enough of it to answer the Quixh’s question. "Your people will be freed once we are away, but don't try to follow us."
The Quixh glanced fondly at the unconscious healer. "I am Paxh, ruler of the Quixh. I give my word. I will not, nor will I inform the Daha'et of you."
"You won't have to," Vero muttered irefully.
After gathering their packs, weapons, and Lka and Rhawan, they searched frantically for the ponies but, in the end, had to make their way on foot.
"If you're so damn powerful, why don't you just kill the Daha'et - why?" Taoe demanded, wheezing as he ran up beside Vero.
"I told you, I cannot. Now, they'll know for certain I am here, whether or not the Quixh tell them, but if I don't use my magic again, they cannot follow me. I can cloak my thoughts but not my power."
"Fine," Taoe spat back, then mimicked Vero's thin, fluted voice. "I'm only here to guide. I can't really help. I am one and they are many." Taoe bit back his next comment when Vero's eyes met his, the green iris's nearly black with rage. He turned away to check on Rhan, not wishing to show Vero his fear. "Do you need me to carry Finnuala?" he called back.
"No, but we're lucky--- praise the Wakhanee-- they took our packs and weapons instead of leaving them on the ponies. Just walk ahead and make sure where the forest is thick, that the trail is clear."
Taoe nodded, then moved into the lead, ahead of Vero, who was beginning to lag, his scrawny body still unused to physical exertion.
His own power did require energy. It was more the emotional aspect, however, that had drained him. "I can't take much more of this," he groaned, his anger at Taoe forgotten.
Ahlisha jogged up and offered him an arm to lean on.
"What does it matter," his cry shocked her, "we cannot outrun the Riders or a dragon, or even a wraith!" He slumped to the ground at her feet. His voice trembled and cracked hysterically. "I must rest. Couldn't you see? We are not different. They are no different from you. We are one and the same, only our power, the source and potency of it, differs." He began to sob. "Oh our cultures and beliefs, yes, our abilities and intelligence, yes, but we are of one… created of one. I am nothing special. That’s why Orn came here and found you. That’s why I heard the Wakhanee. And who knows how many more of us are out there-- His seeds spread around. We are abandoned, utterly alone-- our God inattentive. The Word a lie."
Rhan watched Vero unhappily. In silence, he set the healer down on the trail beside Vero, whom Ahlisha tried to comfort. The path, at that point, had widened, and there was room for them to sit abreast under the towering, spindly birch trees that guarded them from the direct fire of the bobbing sun. A cool breeze floated through the trees and the Kesh began to chatter happily as it fluttered its wings in the current. He alone had not been unnerved by the Quixh. He alone, had known what Vero would find, and his sympathies lay elsewhere.
"You're right, Vero," Rhan agreed despondently. "We can only go on. We cannot outrun the Daha'et. We can only hope they don't know the direction we are heading - now, and that the Quixh, Paxh, will be true to his word."
Rhan watched the Masterhand, waiting for a reply, but none came and the Da’liesh would not enter into a discussion about their kinship. As far as he was concerned, this True Master or God, had left the Wakhanee to care for them, abandoned them, and it was to the Wakhanee they owed their consideration and prayers. Origins mattered little to him, but it was good to know he was not so far separated from the Elder races, or this powerful alien. And, as a malevolence he rarely entertained spread through him, he found he was secretly pleased to witness the arrogant Vero's pain at this realization. Rhan, his anger quickly seeping away, felt a renewed pang of sympathy for the outsider. He also knew what it was to have your beliefs changed and challenged -- your world torn apart.
Taoe remained silent, his simple mind unable to comprehend the ramifications of Vero's words except that perhaps it meant Vero could kill Orn. But, would he? Hatred for the Masterhand filled him.
Ahlisha, on the other hand, understood, but could only find compassion for Vero, whom she soothed and stroked like a feverish child under Rhan's cool, watchful eye. Finnuala, but for the odd groan, was silent and still, Raece lying protectively by her side, seeming unaware of the drama and pain that surrounded him.

THIRTY

"Now I know he's here!" Orn slammed his fist hard into the arm of his stone chair.
"Damn and confound him, Orn, we can't track him now, not unless he uses his magic again. I sensed him near those Quixh, the strange ones we spoke to. I was right not to trust them."
"You think I don't know that, Itar?" Orn shouted, enraged. "What about these wizards - Da’liesh, we have taken? What do they say? This Sham, who has been newly reborn into our service, for instance."
Itar shook his head. "The Da’liesh can't follow this companion Vero travels with unless he opens his mind to them, which, he has not. This itself is unusual, or so Sham tells us. It must be Vero's doing - a warning. We have heard, however, a Tangmere, one of the strange, silver cat people I told you about, travels with them. I also have a feeling Sham knows who the Da’liesh is but has yet to say." Itar smiled grimly. "He won't keep it a secret for long. As for the Quixh, they were, as I informed you, supposed to report to us, perhaps Vero used his magic successfully against them. Damn, I should have gone with my first instincts and not trusted them."
Orn inhaled deeply. "We must keep searching for them. We know approximately where they are now. I must discover Vero’s intent! He has to feel he can stop us or he wouldn't be here!" Orn suddenly wondered if Vero, too, had lost faith in the Word. Fear flooded him. "Order any mercenaries you have available into the area where he last used his power. Don't bother with the Quixh for now. We'll deal with them later. We shouldn't have included one of their Elder races in the first place. It's done us no good. Use this Sham to guide you. Make him part with what he knows."
Orn, his shallow, angry breaths the only sound in the cavern, slammed his fist down once more. Itar jumped to attention. "We can't even read these damn Wakhanee. I will not end it here on this barbaric planet!"
Itar bowed but knew better than to speak. His eyes sought any resting place but Orn.
Did Vero now believe he could kill Orn? Orn tilted his head, thoughtfully drumming skeletal fingers. How had Vero known where to look for him?

THIRTY ONE

Ahlisha slid across the dirt floor from Vero’s side to Finnuala's. There was little comfort she could offer the Masterhand. Wrapping her arms around the woman, Ahlisha gently pulled Finnuala into her lap and began to stroke the lustrous, odd colored hair, crooning soothing words into the woman's ear.
Finnuala who felt herself held in the warmth of the comforting embrace began her long journey to consciousness, Ahlisha's scent and words guiding the way. She groaned aloud before sitting up, Ahlisha’s small hands supporting her. Taking Ahlisha's hands in hers, she said softly, "Thank you."
The girl smiled widely and though the healer could not see, she could feel its radiance. "You're amazing! Wonderful. A true healer! I didn't know they even existed-- only the Wisewoman and the practitioners of herb. There are bard tales of course, but I had thought them just that-- tales. Are there others like you?"
Finnuala essayed a wan smile. "I don't know, Ahlisha, but I don't think so. The Wakhanee have chosen me for this great gift to save themselves, and Dlrow in the process. The Children must all die sometime. It is the way, but the Wakhanee must not." She yawned and stretched. "I'm sorry to have burdened you, but I have not used my gift often and it takes much of my strength. I believe I'll grow stronger over time."
Ahlisha nodded, her eyes still large and awed, turned to the healer while she stroked the dog, who lay between the two women.
"What now?" Taoe demanded. "We can't rest too long here. If the Daha'et tracked Vero to the Quixh, it won't matter if they tell them we were there or not, they'll know, and our tracks are fresh."
Rhan finally smiled himself. "Here, I can be of service."
He began to trace and chant, embedding his long staff deep into the trail's surface. "There, it's done, none will know of our passing." His companions glanced back and sighed with relief, their tracks had been swept from existence. Rhan had been too preoccupied to perform the task before and, unfortunately, it was too late. He had been too long in the mines without his power, and had forgotten much.
A strange voice hailed them from the darkness of the trees, rebuffing their jubilation, "That won't be of much help to ya now."
Rhan and Taoe were on their feet before the others could even react, the Da’liesh already calling up a spell as the mercenaries broke from the forest wall and displayed themselves. They were five in all, one of them a woman. Taoe shook his head in disgust at the sight of her. Ahlisha turned pleading eyes on Masterhand, though she knew that it was Vero's magic which had brought their enemy upon them.
"We were told you were in the area. It'll be good to fight one who won't go down easy," one of the mercenary’s said and grinned ferally at Taoe.
The woman left the men and sauntered over to Rhan, weapon drawn. She pressed her long body against his. Reaching down with her left hand, she squeezed his groin tight. "Let me have a little fun, boys."
Rhan, quivering with rage, shoved her away. "Don't touch me, foul whore."
She cracked a laugh that met her companions, then grinned, exposing yellowed, rotten teeth at Rhan before spitting in his face. "So formal and upright," she crowed. Led by her wild shout, tainted by Ahlisha's shrill scream, the mercenaries charged as one, skilled and powerful.
Gaining control of his anger, Rhan feverishly renewed his chanting. Taoe stood protectively in front of him, fighting as he had never fought before. Vero at his side, felt his arm tiring quickly from the weight of the awkward sword, sending shooting pains from his wrist to his shoulder.
Ahlisha had pulled Finnuala from the melee under Raece's watchful eye, then circled around to the far side, hoping to be of some use. Taoe, with a powerful thrust of his sword, had already neatly disposed of one of his attackers. Ahlisha found herself off behind the female mercenary, her rage at the woman’s treatment of Rhan blocking everything else from her mind. When the mercenary made again for Rhan, she sprang silently from behind, embedding her sword deeply into the surprised woman's back then retreated in disgust as blood splattered her cloths and she felt the shame of her cowardly attack. Though, that one had deserved such a death.
From the opposite side, Raece had rushed in, defending Rhan from another of their assailants, who had circled around behind the Da’liesh, oblivious to all but the spell he was casting. The dog bit deeply into the man's leg and began to tear through the soft layer of leather, then the skin to the bone. Raece emitted a sharp yelp at the searing pain in his head, then saw only darkness as the broadside of a sword crushed his skull. He flew limply through the air. Finnuala screamed his name into the chaos but received no response. She began to search frantically on hands and knees along the forest floor for her friend.
Finally, after events that had seemed to take hours but had in truth only been minutes, Rhan's power exploded around them. White arrows of light shot from his staff to the hearts of the two remaining mercenaries then searched out the third who lay writhing in agony on the ground, blood pouring from the terrible wound Raece had inflicted.
The Da’liesh glared at Vero, wondering why he had had to work so hard for his power as he slumped lethargically to the ground. The Masterhand stood above him, shivering, his sword still clutched tightly in his hand. Ahlisha leaned against a tree, staring down at her blood soaked tunic, her ears pounding with the noise of her own body in the sudden silence that death had wrought. The sound of Finnuala’s heart rending sobs reached them through ears still ringing with the vibration of battle.
Panting heavily, Taoe ran through the trees toward her voice, Ahlisha not far behind. They found Finnuala kneeling on a bed of thick moss. Raece lay unconscious before her, breathing shallowly, blood dripping from his mouth. The healer's body shook with sobs.
Ahlisha knelt beside her. Rhan, aided by Vero, arrived as she asked Finnuala if she could heal the animal.
The healer reached out for Ahlisha's hands, drawing strength from the girl's nearness. "I don't know. I have never healed without Raece's aid. He is my eyes, my knowledge."
"He'll die without you, Finnuala."
"I know. I know. He.. he scents disease.. all the ills for me. How can I see without him?"
"Let me be your eyes, Finnuala. It’s only a wound."
Finnuala squeezed her hand again. "Show me...show me then where his wound is, and might the Wakhanee guide my hands."
Ahlisha grasped Finnuala’s hands and pulled them toward Raece's head where the sword had split his skull. With trembling, unsure hands, Finnuala began the process without the aid and comfort of her friend. She gasped aloud as pain surged through her, then slumped forward, unable to go on until Ahlisha wrapped her soft embrace around her, offering her own strength.
Inhaling deeply, Finnuala pulled Raece's pain within and put it away, then tended to his wound, using her mind like the hands of a deft surgeon. She was rewarded with a soft lick and the weak thumping of his tail.
They remained there, where the ground was soft and lush, allowing the healer and Da’liesh to sleep while the others guarded them. Rhan’s mind closed uneasily on sleep, however, as blame ate a black hole in his heart. If only he had erased their trail earlier. If only he had not allowed the woman to anger him, slowing his power to create the spell, Raece, who was only protecting him, would never have been injured. He moved closer to the dog and relaxed into a fitful sleep. Ahlisha sat awake, her eyes on Rhan, the healer’s head in her lap.
Taoe, wandering aimlessly about his task of setting up camp said, "I think it'll be some time before the Daha'et find this group's failed - or so we can hope," he added without much conviction.
Vero nodded, his face drawn, ghostly under the descending twilight. He knew Taoe was asking for assurance. "I agree. Setting up here is fine. It'll be dark soon anyway, making travel difficult even with the Kesh." He glanced at the little creature, thinking that perhaps he was good luck after all. The Kesh lay unhappily at the bottom of his cage, wide eyes liquid pools of relief.
After hauling the bodies of the mercenaries away from the area, the two silently prepared the camp together, Taoe unsure now of how to approach Vero or what to think of him. He knew one thing for certain, though, the Masterhand was not a coward, and though he could not totally banish his anger, he felt he could forgive much or at least try to understand.
Their small fire burned low, barely lighting the darkness. Rhan woke. "It'll take several days now to reach Spray village, and things grow worse with each passing moment that the Wakhanee can't perform their duties." He glanced fondly at Ahlisha who sat, back against a tree, cradling Finnuala as she had done since the healer had dropped into her unnatural sleep. He knew she would sleep like that rather than disturb the healer. He stood stiffly and took her some food. He had spoken to no one in particular and no one had answered him. There was no need.
The next morning found them awake under a tenebrous but silent sky. Clouds strode across the pale chill expanse with the aplomb of an advancing army. The sun glared out from behind the marauding clouds, a prisoner to their storm. Rhan inhaled deeply as he glared at the unforgiving sight above him. Rain, that's all they needed.
After a light meal and in a moody silence, they set off through the trees. Rhan led the way with Taoe bringing up the rear, his hand constantly gripping and releasing his sword. The dog walked close to the healer with hackles raised, eyes bulging at any sound. Even the Kesh was ominously quiet. Only Taoe's falcon uttered the odd piercing cry into the still, dead air of the forest. Rhan could feel the weight of their misery bearing down on his shoulders that bunched and knotted from the tension. The soft footfalls and calls of the forest creatures only filled him with more foreboding.
Ahlisha, unable to stand the strain, moved forward when they gained entrance to a wide clearing of golden grass where they could walk abreast. Despite a warning look from Rhan, she began to speak quietly with the healer. Vero moved in closely behind, deeply interested in both women, wishing to think of something other than himself and their predicament.
"How did this power come about, Nuala?" Ahlisha asked shyly, then added quickly, "Is it all right if I shorten your name?"
The healer smiled widely, lighting her plain features to beauty. "Fine. That's what my brothers call me."
Ahlisha moved closer to the elegant woman as though drawing strength from her nearness. Finnuala returned the feeling with added warmth. She turned to face Ahlisha. "It just came to me. I was about to take my vows to become an Elemental speaker…Women can't be true priests, you know.
The night before my exams, I was studying and praying when a bright light blinded my eyes yet drew them open to stare into its core. The light told me I must pray to the Wakhanee. They would soon need my aid and that I had been chosen to receive the rarest gift of my land. When the light left, I was as you see me, blind but able to perform the gift of healing……and then the dreams began-- the dreams of the Wakhanee-- and I knew what I must do, though, I have not always been grateful. Sometimes I'm bitter and angry at my loss yet at the same time...." She sighed and bent her head in shame, then reached for Ahlisha’s hand.
"I understand," Ahlisha soothed.
"What about you, my dear. You sound so young. Don't you miss your home, your family?"
Ahlisha choked back a sudden sob. "Oh, Nuala, I do, so much, but like you I dreamt. I need to help Rhan, if I'm able." Ahlisha's eyes burned into the Da’liesh. "I need to be here. My parents don't understand. There's so much...after what happened to me, and being Tangmere, I'm different. It's difficult. I know I have a place here and there is something for me to do. It is the only thing I am sure of in my life."
"I don't know the whole story, Ahlisha. Can you tell me?"
The girl did not speak awhile, twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she walked. Finnuala, caught in her own ruminations, started when Ahlisha’s light, tinkling voice softly filled the space between them, even its timbre unable to cleanse the horror of the events that befell her.
She spoke out flat and calm as though she thought her voice alone could dispel the misery. "Etan, the Home Elder, he was, had taken to paying much attention to me. I seemed to intrigue him, being Tangmere, the only young Tangmere girl in the village or anywhere near. He knew I was too young, but he pursued me anyway. I.. I thought of speaking to Jilley, his wife, but I didn't know if I could, if she would believe me, he was Home Elder after all." Panic raised the pitch of her voice with each word and Finnuala reached out to take her hand.
"You can stop if you want."
"No, no I want to go on. One night...he caught me, outside, after dark. I had been…..sneaking out to meet a...friend. It was innocent but, I was alone and he was drunk. He came at me, he… he.."
"Was it then that Rhan came?" Finnuala asked gently.
Ahlisha lifted her face in relief. "Yes. Etan had dragged me into the livery. The boy was gone for the day and that's where Rhan found us. I was screaming, screaming, trying to scream, his hand was over my mouth." She tugged at her tunic, pulling it away from her throat as she gasped for air. "I couldn't breath." Her gaze darted toward Rhan who still walked in front, shoulders hunched as his feet picked up speed so that he could outdistance the horror of her words. "Soulstealer was near. I could feel his breath."
Finnuala shivered and rubbed at the goose bumps on her arm, then squeezed Ahlisha’s hand tightly before wrapping her arms around the girl and drawing her into the safety of her embrace. "That's enough Ahlisha."
"My parents…..they said I was ruined, ruined. How could they. They asked me to stay home, be a wife and mother, no bardship for me. Bards must be celibate. Ruined," she sobbed, "they would not even send me to study the languages. Oh they blamed it on the Daha'et but it's their shame that binds them, and me."
"Oh Ahlisha, your parents only want what's best for you. Their words are meant out of love, not cruelty, though perhaps they used the wrong ones," she said, trying to keep the accusation out of her voice.
"I know, Nuala. I know, but it hurts. Now, I have a purpose. I am someone, but I do miss them terribly, and I'm sure they are worried sick."
Finnuala hugged her close, thinking her own heart might break. "I hope you will never have to tell that tale again. And remember, Ahlisha, you were always someone-- someone special."
Vero, who could not bear to hear of Ahlisha's brutal attack, in such painful detail, backed away, only to bump into Taoe. The warrior turned his face quickly but not fast enough. Vero had seen the tears that clouded his eyes. Taoe was not at all what he seemed.
Unnoticed, the sky had turned dangerously purple and dark clouds lined its arc as if in forewarning. An abrupt shout, heavy and thick, which rose into the humid air above the crescendo of newly crashing thunder, and Ahlisha's stifled sobs, brought them all up short.

THIRTY TWO

Taoe, sword drawn, rushed headlong from the clearing into the throttling arms of the thick forest, swearing at the ponderous clouds as they let go a torrent of rain and shouted more crashing thunder. "Rhan, where are you?" he roared into the dense brush that brought him to a halt. Between the forest and the wall of rain, he could see nothing.
"Here," the Da’liesh called weakly.
Everyone crowded around Taoe, trying to discern the direction of his voice.
Finnuala reached down and stroked Raece's large, shaggy head. "Find him, Raece."
The dog, after tilting his head and listening intently, disappeared into the dense foliage, well away from the path. He soon emitted a sharp bark.
"I'll go in and bring him out. Wait in the meadow, near the edge of the path." Taoe spoke quietly, worried about what would meet him.
He dove headlong into the bush, his body breaking branches, feet pounding fledgling growth, Lka’s chattering cries driving him on. Reaching Raece’s side, he gasped at the sight of his friend, who lay entangled in the blood sucking Xharin vine. Its powerful limbs dug deep into Rhan's now still form. The constricting, binding arms that wrapped tightly around the Da’liesh were covered by long, thin needles used to empty its victim of life giving blood, while at the same time injecting a deadly poison to keep its prey still. Lka’s cage lay on the ground beside him, the little creature shivering with fear.
After a moment's shock, Taoe began to hack away the dark purple limbs with the ax he carried on his left hip. The dog growled like a cheering section as the big warrior brutally attacked the savage plant. Taoe worked feverishly, tears streaking his face, mixing with rain. Rhan was already unconscious. He would soon die. Finally having freed him, Taoe hoisted Rhan into the air, Lka dangling from his pack, and began to make his way back to the clearing with Raece leading the way.
"Rhan!" Ahlisha cried when Taoe laid him gently on the ground. "What happened?"
"Xharin!" Taoe spat with disgust before turning to the healer. "He's been well drained and the poison's already into his system. Can you heal him?" It was more a demand than a question.
"Oh, Rhan! It’s my fault. He heard me talking about Etan," she sobbed.
"Shhh, Ahlisha. It’s not your fault, Child." Finnuala called Raece to her side. The dog quickly guided the way to her patient. Sniffing Rhan, he reared his brown head in agitation, his whining frightening them all.
"What's the problem," Vero finally demanded from his position behind Ahlisha who, squatting on the ground, was still sobbing.
"It's difficult to find the source of the poison, it's devious and well traveled, and he's lost much blood."
Once Raece stopped whining and began to bark, the healer went to work, her hands coursing down Rhan's entire body. "I will need to sleep many hours after this. I do grow in strength with every healing but this…this is much," she warned them through gritted teeth before slumping into unconsciousness.
Rhan groaned but did not move. His color was better, but he was still very ill, though, thanks to Finnuala, he would live. Eyes glued to Rhan, Taoe shook his head. "We're still a day from Spray," he spoke absently to Vero while his eyes drifted from Rhan to Ahlisha who was still overcome.
Lka began chattering so loudly, and with such panic, that Taoe freed him and he fluttered restlessly between Rhan and Ahlisha. Taoe dragged his gaze away from them, back to Vero. "We'll have to move deeper into the woods, and clear a safe spot for camp, somewhere they can rest safely. If you can carry Finnuala, I’ll carry Rhan."
Vero attempted to brush soaking hair from his eyes as rain coursed down his body, then let it drop once more as a shield so Taoe could not see his indecision. He nodded-- he would certainly try. He would not allow the warrior to see him as weak.
Taoe called gently to Ahlisha, "We have to go now, Ahlisha. We need your help to carry the extra packs. Can you do it?" The girl stood slowly, and dully began to hoist the packs over her shoulder without a word, her yellow eyes buried beneath a layer of red. With a broken glance at Rhan, she followed Taoe into the woods, oblivious of her drenched, filthy clothing, and the chill of the humid air. Lka fluttered fretfully about her head, but her eyes remained fixed on the ground.
Once a small area was cleared, they spread a blanket tarp above them. Taoe began the workings of a modest, smoldering fire, undaunted by the dismal weather now spilling down in an endless drizzle. Ahlisha moved between the healer and Rhan, checking first on Finnuala before placing Rhan's head in her lap. Taoe watched, to his surprise, jealously as she stroked Rhan’s long braids.
Loosing his bird, the warrior disappeared into the forest to find fresh food while Vero picked berries from nearby bushes. He would chew on well hardened bread and blackened cheese, rather than eat from Taoe’s kill. Taoe's snapped command to guard them was one that Vero did not require. The warrior, however, did not stray far and soon returned with a bloody corpse that Vero did not ask the nature of. The smell of burning flesh nearly made him retch, the fire no longer a welcome place for him.
As Ahlisha continued to stroke Rhan, emitting soothing words into his ear, the Da’liesh awoke, drinking in her beauty. His eyes were held fast by hers, their cat like quality both disturbing and alluring. He felt a violent jolt of passion. Tearing his eyes away, he sat up, shoving the girl away from him with such force that she was flung backward. It was a dismal attempt to drive desire from them both, to smote what made him susceptible to her.
Finnuala groaned weakly and sat up at the commotion, hearing Ahlisha sob from somewhere behind her. She turned staring eyes toward Rhan, whose heavy, ragged breathing filled the cool space around her. "What did you do to her!"
"Nothing. I do not wish her to touch me."
The healer frowned in disgust. "She is lovely and good. She obviously loves you and you treat her like that!" Finnuala, her voice coming out in weak croaks, was indignant. Her own body was crying out for more sleep.
"It's not your business. You wouldn't understand."
"I understand I should have let you die," she muttered in disgust as she turned to soothe Ahlisha. "You would think she'd been through enough for one lifetime."
Rhan tugged hard at his beard and glared at her angrily. He spoke without thought, of a feeling that had not been wholly tangible to him before, but suddenly he understood, "Perhaps, you should look at your own feelings toward Ahlisha before you speak of mine."
Finnuala recoiled as though from a physical blow. Taoe stepped smartly between the two. "Whoa, now Rhan, this lady just healed you and Ahlisha was only trying to comfort you. Come on over here and leave them be." Taoe was well used to the moodiness of his friend who was more a brother to him, but this surprised even him.
With a heated glance toward the two women Rhan stood and moved away, refusing to meet the eyes of any. "Why'd you treat her like that? I'd love to have that bit for myself."
"Shut up."
Taoe raised his eyes in seeming amusement. "What's your problem, Rhan? You want her. She wants you."
"You want to know what the problem is. My wife died because of me, because Etan hated me, because I was a lousy husband and left her alone - pregnant- and I vowed I would never love another. I also vowed to return Ahlisha unharmed and untouched. She's a child to me and I'm shadowed by the guilt of my longing."
Taoe laid a large, gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "Sesha's been dead a long while now, Rhan, perhaps it's time to leave off a vow made in the heat of the moment. Sesha wouldn't want you to be alone, and Ahlisha is no child."
Rhan slumped near the fire, poking at it absently with a stick, sending sparks into a darkening, now quiet sky. The rain had finally stopped. "We've lost so much time, Taoe."
The warrior did not respond to the change of subject, his eyes, which rarely displayed what he truly felt, misting as he witnessed his friend's inner struggle. Only Taoe knew how torn Rhan was, angry, hurt, the self hate and blame that writhed like a poisonous snake through his heart and soul.
Finnuala frowned as she felt a shadow loom over her.
"I'm sorry." Rhan's voice held only a trace of his recent illness, a slight weakness, fatigue he would never show the others, but Finnuala knew.
She stared sightlessly up at him. "All is forgiven." But Finnuala felt his words burn in her heart and knew true forgiveness would be a long time in coming. For the first time she was glad her eyes could not give her away. Her own dishonesty made her cringe. She knew now she must decide what kind of love she held for the graceful, comforting, Ahlisha and was sickened but compelled by what Rhan had said. The girl needed her, as she needed her missing mother and the comfort of a good friend, but was that truly all she wished to offer? She must face her own motives.
"Where's Ahlisha?" Rhan asked suddenly, his heart in his throat as he realized she was gone and night, like a marauding thief, was descending. He smiled uneasily toward her as she stepped from the bush carrying moss before Finnuala could answer. "What are you doing?" he asked curiously.
Ahlisha's silver skin flushed a Dark red. "Gathering moss."
"Why?"
Rhan felt the healer tugging on his robe. He turned his gaze to her, then back to Ahlisha's burning face. "Oh," he backed away as Ahlisha disappeared to take care of her feminine business. Sitting close to the fire, his neck hot, Rhan pulled out his book and began to study spells. His mind, however, would only concentrate on Ahlisha's gentle touch, and the pain, not hidden as she had thought, in Finnuala's empty eyes. At least the rain had stopped and the sky, though dark, was clearing.
He lay on his back, preparing to sleep after the warm, succulent, meal Taoe had prepared, and gazed up into the night sky. The scene that met him was pleasantly normal, dotted with twinkling stars and filmy clouds lit by the glowing moon. The air was heavy with residual humidity from the storm and calls of the forest's night dwellers lulled him into an easy sleep where he dreamed of the Wakhanee.
They stood before him, their squat toad-like forms regal to his eye. They appeared to be thanking and encouraging him to hurry toward the Ghenosh, to accept, willingly, what the Elder race would tell him and the events that were about to pass. Even in his unconscious state, Rhan did not like the sound of that.

THIRTY THREE

The morning rose bright and bold overhead, the sky pale blue, lined with white gauzy clouds. The sun, itself, was nowhere to be seen, however, but the companions simply accepted this new twist. Light, without sun. The ground steamed around them as the day warmed the lingering wetness of the deluge.
Rhan rubbed his eyes and found he had slept late. The others were already gathered around Ahlisha's small cooking pot, waiting for their share of oats. He joined them, silently offering Ahlisha a hesitant smile. The girl returned it coldly, her eyes not reflecting the movement of her mouth. Rhan shivered slightly in a cool breeze as frosty as Ahlisha's greeting.
"Will we reach Spray today?" Vero asked around a hardened roll he was chewing. He had been appalled by Rhan’s behavior toward Ahlisha but had chosen to ignore it.
Rhan, watching him, thought the outsider had lost even more weight, the gaunt look of his face even more pronounced. His hair dangled like wet straw. "We should, if we march quickly." He glanced nervously at the healer, who was tired only because of him, and who he had so offended. "Are you fine to travel, lady?"
She nodded and smiled, her warmth allowing him to unclench his gritted teeth. "Of course." She stroked her dog. "I have Raece to guide me should I stumble." She could not, however, control the trembling of her hand.
"And me," Ahlisha put in fiercely, grabbing the healer's hand. Finnuala's pale, drawn face flushed dark and she gently eased her hand away. She had not told Ahlisha, who had been stunned and sobbing bitterly at the time, of Rhan's cruel words.
"And, Ahlisha, of course." Her heart beat faster at the girl's contact and apparent affection. She stilled it with difficulty, not yet understanding her own feelings, something she would need to work out.
Ahlisha served them all, then sat very near Rhan, their thighs slightly touching. She spoke in a hard, low voice that Rhan found discomfiting. "I will not crawl to you, or beg for your love. When you can act like a man, come to me - maybe I'll be here, maybe I won't. But then, maybe, I'll make you beg! It's providence that I be here and I will join my destiny, at your side, Rhan. With or without you, I will find my own way." Her final words rang in sultry caresses around them and her companions understood, easily, why she had been accepted on trial for a bardship. Her loss was a waste to that noble profession.
The Kesh, who had been chattering happily all morning, suddenly stopped, it's wide eyes fastened on Ahlisha. Rhan's heart thudded and chilled with the silence. He looked toward the Kesh, deep into Lka's luminous green eyes, but they were expressionless. He turned away too quickly or he would have seen the spasm of grief that crossed its face, mirrored by Vero.
Before Rhan could even form a response, Ahlisha had risen gracefully and walked away to sit by the healer. None of the others dared glance at him and he was left alone, writhing in his private hell of misunderstanding, hurt and humiliation. He glared up at the sky to find it bereft even of the gossamer clouds, lit only by a pale glow somewhere to the east. The air was warm and the drone of insects filled it with buzzing sound. He swatted at them irritably.
"It's time to go," Rhan announced, an uneasy edge to his voice. He began to clear camp.
He led the way with Taoe once more at the rear, his falcon perched with lofty pride atop his pack. The bird abruptly uttered a single passionate cry to a falcon that flew overhead. Vero glanced nervously at Rhawan, still holding a loathing admiration for the falcon, but his gaze swung quickly to Rhan, the Da’liesh had spat heavily and swore. A crow croaking obnoxiously, was flapping slowly across the path before him, followed closely by a tiny brown bird. The Da’liesh stood rigid with fists clenched.
"What's wrong?" Vero called. His companions stared at him in disgust, and he shrugged helplessly.
Rhan sighed and answered, "If the heckling crow clears the path for the wren, death is soon to follow."
Vero's brows crashed together, his lips trembling as he tried to retain his mirth. "Surely that's only superstition, my friend." He felt the heat of his companions eyes and lowered his own, lips still twitching.
Rhan picked up the pace, wondering dismally what they would find in Spray, his heart beating a frenzied tattoo of fear. He wished he could open his mind and call a raven to him, but with the danger that posed he could only wait for the rare birds to show themselves. He prayed to the Wakhanee for the aid of the large black bird.
Ahlisha moved from the healer's side, who walked easily with Raece, to Vero's. "I don't believe in that superstition either, Vero but...we have our own."
He smiled at her, drinking in her radiance and wishing that his own land held skin of such liquid beauty. "Tell me of your ancestral land, of Tangmere," he asked as they made their way through the towering trees over soft beds of damp moss.
"I haven't been there but once, when I was a child-- but it is so lovely. Filled to the east with grassy plains that swell out around the villages, embracing them with their bounty and to the west with a lush forest that teams with life. On the plains you can see forever, all the way to the Highcrest and beyond." She paused and sighed. "I miss not knowing my homeland but I love my father, and though we can, for the most part, live among his kind, he cannot, he found, live among ours."
"Are your belief's the same as the villagers, here, in the south?"
She nodded. "Some, but many are also different. Before even the Wakhanee came, we worshipped the earth and its gifts. We named it, master—Techchewan."
Vero's heart skipped a beat when she spoke her God's name in her own trilling tongue. "I find all this talk of the Wakhanee and the True Master, confusing...but it is probably to him, this True Master, our people still pray, and it must be the Wakhanee who have called to me." She frowned. "But why?"
Vero shook his head, then turned away so she could not read his face. "I can't say."
"Don't worry about Rhan. He's always been moody." Vero was not sure if she was trying to convince him, or herself. "They forget that you do not know the land," she finished and patted him with sisterly affection before returning to the healer.
Vero smiled after her, her gentleness cleansing his soul. The sudden sound of the Kesh's voice in his mind nearly sent him reeling. "She is the Conduit. I know you know or you suspect - our world is not so alien to yours. Speak nothing of what is to befall this group. Allow the Ghenosh to tell them. I share your love, but the land is more important."
Vero's shoulder's slumped. He did not need this creature to tell him that, this most terrible secret he yet held. At least now he felt justified in keeping his silence. Even the Kesh wanted it this way.
A booming crash above them brought Taoe's sword to hand and sent them scurrying for cover, except Vero who still stood as if the world were on his shoulders and he too weak to move it. The warrior whipped around to Rhan. "What was that?" Then noticing Vero, he called the Masterhand to them, tapping his foot in irritation as Vero shuffled toward them.
Eyes narrowed, Rhan peered around the forest, then up, he gasped. "Lightening, lightening from a cloudless sky. Look out," he shouted as a loud crack sent a bolt of electricity straight toward them, slamming into the largest tree in the vicinity. A mighty cleft split the tree top to bottom and an erupting fireball shot toward the sky and exploded around them.
"Run," Rhan screamed.
Ahlisha grabbed the healer's hand, and Taoe shoved the stunned Masterhand forward, propelling his numb legs.
Rhan remained behind them. The fire raced toward him, sucking up oxygen and spitting flames. He gasped for breath as he chanted, calling for water, his staff dug deep into the ground. The water spout rose rapidly, spiralling in a glorious arc before him just as the wall of flames would have slammed into him and those he protected. He grunted with exertion as he sent the twirling water spinning through the flames, drowning the inferno which raged against them.
"Done," Taoe shouted for Rhan to drop the water. The Da’liesh fell at his feet.
"Well done, Wizard," Vero cried stumbling forward across the charred ground. "Well done indeed."
Taoe glared at Vero then at the sky that appeared unmoved by the near catastrophic events. The sun had returned to its rightful position with a vengeance, cosseted in an innocent blanket of blue.
Sweat beaded on the warrior's forehead as he lifted Rhan. "Can you walk? We need to get to Spray, after the crow....just a feeling."
"I have the same," Rhan croaked, his throat parched from the heat, his body still weak from his recent brush with death. After swallowing a long drink of what was left of the ale, he led them out again, leaning on Taoe. Vero brought up the rear, leaving the still wary warrior little choice but to trust the outsider.
"I wonder what we will find?" Finnuala lamented, her voice only filling the others with more concern. Lka was ominously silent. Taoe's falcon called out eerily, cutting through his companion’s tension, answered by the trilling of the birds that filled the forest’s canopy.
"I don't know, Nuala, but I don't like it," Ahlisha responded quietly, her hand in the healer's. She felt it torn from her grasp as Vero's body encompassed her own. Taoe pulled Finnuala down.
"Down," Rhan whispered sharply to the dog. "Quiet, all of you. Crawl for your lives. There's thick brush, over there. We'll get under it." The ominous sound of massive wings whooshed above them. High over the now thinning forest the heavy, regal voices of dragons rang out, calling to one another as they returned to the north.
Taoe's voice barely rose above a whisper but carried well enough. "I think I know what we'll find in Spray."

THIRTY FOUR

They stepped hesitantly from the narrow forest path onto the road that led into the village of Spray, Rhan's sharp intake of breath the only sound. The village stood in death throes before them, charred, the thatched roof's of the buildings still smouldering. The Elemental stones were burnt black. Jagged cracks ran down the centers to the pitiful offerings that lay scattered at the bottom, now, only scorched remains.
They stared up with despairing hearts as a chill wind blew away the powerful heat, and gentle snow began to fall in the heart of the jungle. "The dragons," Rhan croaked as he began to stumble into town.
Taoe quickly reached his side, pulling him to a halt. "We have to be careful, my friend. Who knows what waits inside the village. Daha'et, Shadowwraiths, dragons…"
"No need to go on. Your point's taken."
Vero gaped at them and the village in horror, his mind reflecting numbly on Rhan's superstitious drivel of the crow and wren. "The Daha'et ordered this," he whispered. "How does this help them?" No one answered.
Finnuala’s shoulders stooped as she sucked the foul odor into her sensitive nose. The assault on her nostrils, as powerful as any vision, nearly overwhelmed her. Raece whined. "We must go in," she said quickly, then sniffed the air again, "human flesh…burning, they might need help. Rhan, please, lead me into the village, I must help if I'm able."
"You must feel blessed in your lack of sight now," Taoe choked out bitterly.
"I don't need to see." Finnuala's eyes filled with tears, and the warrior, shamed, turned away to lead them into the village. His sword was drawn and shield at the ready.
Inside, the village was even worse than they had imagined. Few buildings remained standing, none without scars. Victims, flayed alive, covered by slow moving flies hung from poles in the center of the village. Others, were bound and burned black. There was no sign of life, the smoke was overpowering. Ahlisha began to choke.
"Don't look!" Rhan cried, but she could not tear her eyes away from the horror. "I don't think there are any here to help." His voice cracked.
Finnuala reached out blindly, her dead eyes draining streams of tears. "They're here, alive, injured, I can feel them. Call out, Rhan."
The Da’liesh cleared the smoke from his throat and called into the heavy air, which was freckled with snow, "Is anyone alive? Please, come out. We can help you."
"Here," a man's voice, rough from inhaling the bitter fumes, drifted out from the one building that still stood relatively unharmed.
Rhan smiled grimly-- the roadhouse and its tavern.
The companions made their way across the smoke shrouded street, gagging on the stench of burned flesh and vegetation, to the roadhouse. The Kesh, Rhan unaware he had freed himself, fluttered through the door before anyone could stop him. Taoe warily stuck his head through the door behind Lka, then waved the others through.
A dozen or so people sat on the marred wooden floor, littered with overturned tables and chairs, and the darting light of the Kesh who flitted from person to person, offering comfort. A dull voice commented listlessly, "All our Kesh were killed."
Tables were righted and the villagers were helped to their feet. Once all were seated, Finnuala spoke into the quiet of the settled villagers. "I'm a healer. Does anyone need my help?"
A woman began to sob. "My boy, here, please. I think he's dying." The voice came from a darkened corner where a young woman sat holding a small towheaded boy in her arms, blood draining from a nasty wound in his side.
The boy, it turned out, was not too badly injured, leaving the healer strong after her mending. She had noticed she was becoming less exhausted with each task and was comforted by that fact. She would need to be strong to aid the Wakhanee and justify their faith in her gift.
"What happened?" Rhan demanded of the group.
The elderly man he had first approached stared at him glassily. "We are to tell all who pass this way that this is what happens to those who refuse the Daha'et. Also to them that aid the outsider, Vero and the Da’liesh and companions he travels with, including a Tangmere." He spat the name. The man’s dull eyes began to come to life as he studied the travelers. "You!"
"I'm Vero," the Masterhand said softly. The villagers glared but did not move. They were few and many were injured to some degree. Vero could feel the heat of their rage.
Only Finnuala was afforded their affection when she returned with the woman and her boy. It had been many an age since a true healer had graced the land. Most had only heard their bard's songs of such a one. Ahlisha, in their ignorant prejudice, they studied shamelessly. Few had even seen a Tangmere. Vero watched her with admiration. She let their ogles and hatred slide from her back to the floor, where it belonged.
Rhan looked at them each in turn before asking, "What did you refuse them?"
"Everything!" The elderly man said with a fury born of deep pride, "and I would advise the same again." Then his shoulders sagged and the fight drained from him.
Rhan, his heart aching, his mind suddenly on Marn and Lansend, enquired, "You are Home Elder?"
The man nodded and wiped a blackened hand across his tearing eyes. "I am Lhuet."
"Can we feed you at least?" A young woman stood up, cradling her left arm. "In thanks for your aid, regardless of who you are." Her furious gaze touched each of the villagers before resting on Ahlisha.
"You might, but let Nuala heal you first, please. Your injuries are small and she will not be overly tired. Then I will help you prepare a meal for us all." The woman smiled tentatively at the lovely creature before her. Then groaning, held out her broken arm.
Many wondered how they would eat with their friends and kin smouldering outside. But life, however dismal, however tentative, must go on.
"Dragons?" Rhan finally asked, incredulous, unable to accept these horrible changes in his world.
The Elder nodded.
"Will the Assembly fly to our aid?" he asked knowing the answer before the old man spoke.
"Unlikely, they probably, or so we have heard, fight their own battles. You know how slow they are to make decisions. A moment to them is a lifetime to us. Not just dragons, there were Shadowwraiths, as they're called, mercenaries too, and one other, a Da’liesh or Daha'et now called Sham." The man began to shiver, his thin shoulders quaking as cold air drifted through broken windows. He did not notice the spasm of grief that clouded Rhan's face.
"This accursed weather! First too hot, then cold!" he complained. "Many of our people were taken to the Daha'et. The mercenaries headed toward Ghenosh land though, looking, I gather, for you." The old man squinted up at him with shrewd but unaccusing eyes, the tears already drying to despair.
"Yes," Rhan agreed, wondering how Orn had learned of their destination. Probably only a guess. Or was it advice? But from whom? Sham? "I'm sorry…let me tell you our story, Vero's, and perhaps you can find hope in my words." He reached deep into his pack and pulled out the dream shard for the gasping villagers. "It's the least we can do for you."
Vero nodded in agreement thinking all of Ourshare probably knew who he was by now anyway. Armed with the knowledge and understanding he had since come to glean, he realized it didn't matter.
While Rhan spoke, Ahlisha set a fire in the hearth and Finnuala, assisted by the woman who had first offered, brought forth a small but hearty meal of dried meats, sharp cheeses and bread, and a tankard of ale. After serving them, the healer, led by Raece, moved to squat beside an elderly man who sat alone in a dusty, darkened corner. "Do you need help?"
"No." The man grasped her hand and spoke in a heavy northern accent. "Thank you for healing my daughter's son. We have not been to here long."
Finnuala began to speak choppily to the man in his own tongue, so close to her own, "Where are you from?"
"Raven's Rook. I left my village, another was taking my coin, a younger carpenter than me. So I brought my widowed daughter and we came here in hope of a new life, to the South where the villages are larger. I don't much like the city."
The healer smiled. "I am from Lahile."
"I know it. I would feel gratified to offer you a gift. I have with me a staff, of Flovn wood." He smiled shyly at Finnuala's startled gasp. "I was making it for a wealthy merchant in town but…..he won't be a needin' it now."
Finnuala felt the staff pushed into her hands and ran her fingers along its smooth edge. The golden handle was well shaped, a comfortable grip. The stem was fastidiously etched with the sublime forms of dragons and kesh. Finnuala, even in her blindness, could feel and sense its beauty.
"Thank you, so much," she whispered softly to him before standing and calling to Ahlisha to bring him food. "I didn’t even ask, what your name is and how did you get the Flovn wood?"
"Ehran... Ehran of Raven's Rook and, I have learned to trade with the Ghenosh."
"Amazing," Finnuala gasped.
Ehran smiled but did not speak.
They gathered with the remaining villagers around a large battered table where Rhan spoke at length of the next leg of their journey before finally enquiring, "Are there any ponies left alive?"
"Some," the Elder, Lhuet, spoke dully. "You are welcome to what we have and whatever supplies you need and may the Elementals, or….Wakhanee protect you."
Rhan smiled grimly. "They might not be able to. How far to Ghenosh lands?"
Ehran spoke up. "I've done some trading with them. They like my staffs. It'll be in and about by pony back, three days journey but they cannot be found if they don't wish to be."
"Well," Rhan observed sourly, "let's hope they do."
******
Ahlisha, alone for the first time since her journey began, sat down heavily on the narrow pallet bed in the small room that had been allotted hers. Lifting her slender arms to pull off the light chain mail and filthy tunic, she caught her own ripe odor and her face twisted. Laying the tunic out on the bed beside her, she stared at the blood of her enemy with both sadness and pride. Her first kill, when all she had wanted, ever, was to sing. She shivered as though touched by the mercenary's cold soul. Must be the Human in her.
Rising, she stripped off the remainder of her clothes, then padded softly across the cold floor to a wash stand adorned with a modest mirror. Peering into the glass at her own image, she found a dirty, scruffy looking woman but a woman, not a girl. The grimness of her mouth, the tension of her jaw, and the hard stare of her eyes - she had changed and she did not recognize the person who returned her gaze.
She plunged her head into a large basin of cool water, grateful that she would be able to scrub her wiry hair with the tatty bar of lye provided her.
Clean, she faced herself again. The water and scrubbing seemed to have washed away not only the dust and filth, but the tension, and she was relieved to recognize her own face, though aged, once more. She stood straight and ran a small hand along her side over the swell of her hip, and smiled softly, further erasing the damage of the journey.
Yes, she mused, forgetting any anger at him, she would be good for Rhan. Then, she thought fiercely, good enough for Rhan or any man, and he would be hers. She would not allow Etan to destroy her life. She hoped, wherever he was, Soulstealer tortured him. He was dead, while she yet lived, and live she would. She shivered more from the sudden thought of Rhan's touch than from the coolness of the air. She knew it was from fear that Rhan had shoved away, not her. Fear, fear of love.
Her mind began to drift and she found she was gazing at Nuala, listening to her comforting words, cleansing touch...her touch. Ahlisha shook her head to clear the confusing pictures and made her way to bed. Sleep would be her final balm. Lhuet had promised clean clothes would await them on rising. Her lips turned down, but first the task of removing the bodies of the dead….clean clothes to carry the dead.

THIRTY FIVE

An enormous black dragon prostrated itself before the Daha'et leader. "Master Orn, word comes. My kind have spotted the mercenaries sent to destroy the travelers and they are dead but, the village of Spray has been destroyed and the message left. More mercenaries have gone after those you seek." Noticing Orn’s mounting anger, he offered in compensation, "We have brought back many lively treats for you."
While Orn drummed impatient fingers, a tail switched back and forth in anticipation of the next titbit the dragon could please the Daha'et with. "We know much more of those you seek. Word is, they travel with a female, a trueborn healer, a Tangmere, as we suspected, the Da’liesh, we knew, a warrior, a dog, and your Vero. Some mercenaries have gone ahead to the Ghenosh which is where we, or rather that Sham, supposes they are heading though their purpose is unknown. The Quixh, the worms, won't speak and cannot be forced but, perhaps by you," he offered slyly, perversely stroking Orn’s ego. Inwardly, however, he sighed, thinking of the sport to be had if only the Quixh could be caught.
Orn turned away, disgusted by the beast before him but nonetheless he must show some gratitude. "Well done, Onhyx. Continue the search and send Itar to me." He waved the dragon away.
The dragon flattened itself and slid backward from the cavern.
"Oh, and go ahead," Orn snapped. "Have your pick of the last humans brought in."
"Thank you, Master. You are so kind," the beast fawned with sycophant caresses.
Orn, preoccupied, did not notice the glint in the dragon’s eye.
Come my brother, Orn thought bitterly, come to me then, if that is your will. I have nothing to do but wait.

THIRTY SIX

Under a leaden sky, saturated with ponderous snow clouds that ruled impossibly over the jungle canopy, the travelers mounted their ponies. The small horses danced weightily, already laden with stocked packs.
They were newly garbed in clean, colorful tunics, scrubbed breeches and brais, and dark, fur lined cloaks. Ahlisha was more than relieved to be rid of the bloodied, rank shirt she had worn for days.
Rhan happily rubbed his artfully shaven beard, proud of the bare cleft. Nuala tightly grasped her flovn wood staff, dead eyes fixed at the horrors surrounding them. With her own white cloak filthy and damaged, she had draped the dark one carefully over her shoulders. She felt it matched her soul at the moment. Even Vero sat straighter in the saddle. After scouring his body for what had seemed hours, his limp hair almost shone with life. Taoe had washed haphazardly, but he appreciated his new aroma.
Rhan had offered to stay and aid in the clean up and burials. Most, unhappily, would have to be laid to rest in the earth, like common barbarians. The journey to the sea, with so many bodies, would be dangerous and far too difficult with the strange weather and Daha'et on the prowl for the few survivors to manage. The villagers had refused Rhan's offer, accepting only assistance in laying out the dead. They urged the group to be on their way. They desperately wished to be freed of the Daha'et and revenged.
All were sickened by the thought of land burial but for Ahlisha, and Vero, whose peoples had always buried their dead on land. She assured the villagers all would be well, to pray to the Wakhanee for the souls of the departed. She left the village of Spray strong in the knowledge that they would never turn out another Tangmere, whom they had wrongly believed to be dangerous and barbaric.
The air cloaked them in chill waves, thick with the stench of death. Their breath froze in wispy tendrils around them like millions of spider webs. Ahlisha breathed deep and coughed, her lungs frozen, the scent of the snow gracing her reddened nose.
The jungle like forest, covered by a layer of frost, spread out to the east before them, split widely by the Highcrest River. The Blueband range towered high in the distance and beyond that lay the swamp and Soulstealer's forest. From there, the rich foothills and farmlands of the deep south stretched out to the sea.
The Ghenosh lands lay west of the mountains and Soulstealer, separated from death’s companion by only a thin line of the range--not much protection from the stealer of life, though the Ghenosh need not fear.
They traveled the first day generally in the silence of their own thoughts, Rhan's on both past and future. He worried over the Quixh's words and Vero's, and the tone of his last dream. He fretted over Ahlisha, missed her attention, he realized ruefully. His brother still lay heavy on his mind and deep in his heart, and at the moment, Rhan felt he always would belong with the spirits of his dead wife and mother. His mother....had she truly forgiven him? Her eyes suddenly loomed before his, anguished, or was it his agony placed upon her? He shook the image away. And now, Sham. He dreaded the thought of coming against his one time friend.
Ahlisha thought of her parents, their worry and the hurt they must be feeling. She knew they loved her. She thought of Rhan and the humiliation he had caused her but knew in her heart he was hers, and she had forgiven him. She understood the ache that drove him to his moody fits of anger. She thought of Nuala, who rode at her side, and a niggling of doubt ate at her. She was not sure of the woman's feelings, but to her, she was the mother Ahlisha had left behind and she hoped, fervently, the healer felt the same. Vero, she felt a certain pity for, and Taoe a deep fondness. She spent a moment of wasted thought on the rape and Etan, only glad it had not created a child. A tremor shook her heart and again, she hoped, wherever Etan lived in the after life, he suffered. She felt relieved to have shared her story with Finnuala. She realized she no longer blamed herself for Rhan’s accident with the vine.
Vero thought of Orn, reminiscing of childhood days, of frolicking and banter, wondering how and why Orn had changed. But he had always been competitive, even cruel, and Vero becoming Masterhand had deeply embittered Orn. Vero had to face it. He had always been the family favorite, fair to Orn's dark, gay to Orn's moody sullenness. Orn had always been the smarter and stronger of the two.
Then his mind shifted to Ahlisha and the events he knew must pass. His mind shied from there and returned to his home, redressing the actions that had sent him to Dlrow. Closing his eyes and listening to his heart, he found he was glad---glad to have met his companions and glad to have discovered the truth of his world, and of the Word.
Nuala thought of her home, her brothers and parents, her loneliness and of her feelings toward her powers, feelings that were turning from bitterness to joy. One did not need sight to see. She thought of Ahlisha and her body flushed with a warmth she shied away from. She would not believe Rhan's vile words. Ahlisha was the daughter she would never have, now. As healer, she would remain celibate. She realized that was only from men, however, then flushed.
Taoe thought of Rhan and worried over his increasing moodiness. He knew the Da’liesh loved and needed Ahlisha. His own feelings for Ahlisha did not matter. For him, there would be others, but Rhan.... He fretted over Vero, liking, admiring and hating him all at once. He knew the outsider had not told them all of the truth, and he could only guess at Ahlisha's part in their quest. It aggravated him that Vero knew, of that he was still certain. Finnuala was a mystery to him. He was awed by her ability and the remote regalness of her plain looks. He wondered how it would be to be blind-- to be given a gift of the Masters. In a simple mind as his, it was hard to fathom such a boon. He thought little of his own family, abandoned young, Rhan and his family had become his blood and he would do anything for them. His eyes teared as he remembered Rhan's mother, a death he would grieve for long, but in private. He knew he was a simple man and it didn’t bother him.
They pitched camp late and slept peacefully, taking turns at guard, including Ahlisha, who had more than proven herself. Morning found the land still shrouded by winter and carpeted by snow. They packed up silently under a sky still dark despite day, and headed out. Rhan sombrely pointed out it would take another day to reach the Highcrest.
******
"The Highcrest," Rhan observed sourly when they arrived. "It's high, partially frozen." He blew hot air into his hands to warm them and stared at the water moodily. The others could barely see his head shake through the steam that surrounded him, drifting from his breath and the river. Scratching at his beard while he contemplated their situation, he spoke thoughtfully, more to himself. "Going to be tough to cross. It would help if it would stop snowing."
He turned in his saddle and faced them. "I'll take the lead, we'll have to dismount except for the healer whom I’ll guide across. Taoe, you can lead my pony and your own." The big warrior nodded, then watched nervously as Rhan entered the water, towing Finnuala's stumbling pony behind him.
The current pulled at his numb legs as he skidded and scrambled over slippery rocks against the biting flow that cut through his skin like ice. Finnuala spoke encouragingly from her perch, cursing her blindness once more, her inability to help herself.
The abrupt, thundering sound of wings drew their eyes skyward. Calling the power while raising his hands, wondering how he was going to remain standing, Rhan began to chant, but the firm voice of the Kesh interrupted him, breaking his concentration.
"Do not harm her!"
"You pick the damnedest times to speak," Rhan turned his head and yelled back to the Kesh who, hanging from his pony, still waited on shore,.
"I will not harm you. I am Celinder. Elder Fiona sent me to check on you. I have seen. Spray and I am sorry. I will inform the Assembly at once, but we have our own battles, as you can imagine, amongst ourselves. Mercenaries I found on Ghenosh land have been executed. Your journey to the Ghenosh village will be safe. They await your arrival. I warn you that a red dragon flies the borders of Portsmouth. Every port village has a watcher and he will maintain a search for you. I will wait to see you safely across the Highcrest but as you can see, I am much too small and feeble to carry more than one, but will if needs be." She was indeed a small, elderly greenback.
"Our thanks." Rhan bowed gratefully, awed by the magnificence of the creature before him. Turning against the current, he continued across. When they had all crossed safely, he bid the dragon farewell. "Speak well of us to Fiona. All goes as to be expected thus far. Tell her I hope to see her soon. May your wings carry you far and true."
"May your feet find firm ground and the Wakhanee hear your prayers."
"And yours," Rhan called as the creature flew gracefully away. "Keep heart, Fiona," he whispered after the disappearing figure.
Vero released his breath in a gust, his heart spilling over with a sudden new joy he had never thought to experience. "They’re so beautiful. I wish Thamos had such creatures." No one answered him as they mounted silently and continued their journey. Vero's countenance, however, remained solemn and thoughtful. He would still fear these terrible beasts of both his dreams and reality but not, in the same way. Celinder's glorious form was forever burned into his soul.
Vero directed his pony to Ahlisha's side. "What do these strange Ghenosh look like?" He felt it was time to put a face to the shadowy figures of his and Rhan's dreams. It was time to face what must come.
Her pony took Ahlisha’s attention from Vero as they urged their mounts up the bank where the temperature rose a good fifteen degrees. The snow clouds had turned white and fluffy, scudding across the blue arc above with a yellow sun bobbing merrily in its normal position, leaving the travelers to heave a sigh of stunned relief. Fluff from flowering cottonwoods that lined the river banks littered the space around them, then gave way to swaying pines. Chattering birds and buzzing insects called across the expanse of the woods, bringing a returned normalcy to the world in which they travelled. Rhan closed his eyes and allowed the cheery sounds to comfort him as Ahlisha, removing her heavy cloak, turned to answer Vero.
"I had to think about that, Vero. I have never actually seen one, but my father has, and he once described them to me." Her eyes rounded into the faraway look of a day dreamer as she recalled her father's words. "They are tall, with oval shaped heads and long, high ears. Their skin is...white as snow, like their long flowing hair that's braided with the bones of their dead. Their teeth are sharpened to fine points, and their sorcery is the most powerful, even more than the Quixh. They are the Keeper’s of the Book of the Dead."
She glanced at Vero from the corner of her eye shyly, and blushed, "They are said to be both man and woman, in one...producing their own offspring-- by themselves. They all have...small...breasts." And no rape, she suddenly realized, there couldn't be.
Vero stared at her, mouth agape. "Truly?"
Rhan interrupted them. "It's true. They memorize all their spells, and their staff is made of flovn wood, like Finnuala's. We southerners call them, Keepers of the Book of Shadows. Of all the Elder races, only the Vhari'ni lack power but for the manipulation of and ability to find gold. The Ghenosh are the most powerful, most likely to aid in the work they do for the land, which is all they use their immense powers for. They are rarely seen in this day, avoiding the goings on of Dlrow, though, history denotes them as fierce warriors and caretakers of the land. In recent times, however, little is said of them. Like the Wakhanee, they have all but disappeared from our thoughts. They are living folk tales. They ride the winged lion."
"Keepers of the book of dead or shadows," Vero mumbled, but didn't pursue his curiosity. It was obvious Rhan could tell him little anyway. He would have to form his own opinion of them. The Kesh, he noted, was silent. Vero thought only he could sense the little creature's unhappiness.
They trudged on in thoughtful silence, following the winding path through the trees until Rhan's startled gasp brought them all up short. "We're here."
Before them, under the falling of night, spread the mighty Flovn wood forest, it's yellow leafed trees towering to the sky. Gnarled branches, thick and powerful, shot out from wide tree trunks, then plunged hundreds of feet straight down to the ground to dig into its rich soil once more. Roots, tangled and crossed, twisted along the forest floor, which was carpeted by the large sun colored leaves and spongy moss. Pungent fuchsia flowers bloomed under every tree. The ground was freckled by patches of fading sun and advancing dark.
"Wondrous," Vero breathed.
"Yes, but how will we find the Ghenosh?" The caw of a raven answered by the piercing cry of Taoe's falcon brought a grin to Rhan's lips. "He has been sent to guide us, but we'll wait 'till we rest and eat. He bids us hunt. We are safe."
With relief, they dismounted. Those still wearing them removed the now stifling cloaks even though the early gray of dusk crawled across a starless, moonless sky, the sun fleeing from it’s pursuit. Rhan opened the kesh's door so Lka could flex his wings. They would need his light on this night. Taoe set out with his falcon before the light completely failed, returning quickly with two hares.
The Blueband mountains shadowed them, quickly bringing night. Like a splash of ice water the mountains spat a cool breeze their way. The talk around the fire was mostly of the Ghenosh, the little known of them. None were happy to be so close to Soulstealer's Dead Wood, only the other side of the towering range that defeated the absent moon's glow and brought down darkness like a smothering hand.

THIRTY SEVEN

It was barely dawn in what appeared a sunless, gray sky, when the raven led them into the treetop village of the Ghenosh, which was divided by the gentle flow of a narrow brook. Vero marveled at the houses of sod, moss and living branch weaving high above them, even more as the Ghenosh themselves appeared, white bone braids glistening under the pale, chill light. Ahlisha had been acutely accurate.
Gazing beyond the village, he found the mountains filled the space solidly before them, charging to the empty sky, mist clinging to the range's back like a noble's cloak. Vero shook his head at the ambience, fantastical and alluring.
Finnuala stood with head held high, body quivering. Raece, sensing his mistress's distress, began whimpering at her side. She so desperately wished to see this legendary Elder race-- blind, she could not. A flash of light made her groan aloud, and if not for Ahlisha's quick arm she would have fallen. She stumbled blindly as it left a burned imprint in her mind of those who spoke around her including her companions.
"Now, you see us, Healer. All of us," a soft voice crooned only to her, before speaking aloud in a low, musical tone. "I am Thasa Mahair, ruler of the Ghenosh."
He was dressed in a cascading silver gown, his flowing white mane adorned by a golden circlet wound about his head, which set him well apart, as the other Ghenosh wore only ballooning pants of a thin, delicate material and billowing white shirts.
Rhan stepped forward and bowed first before the magnificent Ghenosh named Thasa. He carefully introduced his companions before speaking to Thasa. "We need your aid."
"Yes, we have been expecting you." Thasa glanced at Ahlisha, his face unreadable. "It is good she came, despite your wishes. She is the Tamer of Souls, Conduit. You need her Thoughtmaster, Bane of Souls, holder of the power stone."
Rhan's mouth fell open and he heard the firm voice of the Kesh echo within him, "Thoughtmaster."
"It is time to begin the true journey. First, you must retrieve Gomya Dura, the soul’s wryd and power stone of life. Then, and only then, will the souls answer your call to battle.
"The what?" Rhan tried to interrupt, but Thasa continued, unperturbed.
"I know the stone did not appear in your dreams, as only we, and the True Master and those who have his ear, know of its existence. Once placed inside your left ear, it will direct your energy to control the chosen dead, raise their souls once more to life without harming you. It will also, through your thoughts and direction, turn the imprisoned souls against the Daha’et. It will offer them cleansing and freedom all through only the power of your thoughts and guidance. It is the True Master’s stone. Never before has a human been born who can control its power. Without it, and the Conduit, you cannot succeed."
Sunlight began to filter through the trees, but its appearance did nothing to ease the hearts of those its rays caressed. When Thasa stopped speaking the silence was deafening. He examined them critically for a moment before he went on.
"You must travel first to Wellman Bay. The dolphins, at Ahlisha’s call, will meet and take you to your destination of Eru. There you must face the Clansmen of Duhall and seek the stone on Mount Horne. The Clansmen might lead you but beware, the stone is guarded by Hora and you must pass her, for she was told to allow no one, under any circumstance, near the stone such was its danger and puissance." Thasa shook his head sorrowfully. "She will be a great loss, but we could trust no one else with it, not even ourselves. The stone dates back to the beginnings of Dlrow, a time known to few but us. Its uses, for it holds others, were much in demand then, but now it is only an unnecessary evil, a powerful relic of days gone.
"Once the stone’s in your possession you must seek out the Daha’et and destroy them, then heal the Wakhanee. The dragon will lead you. Lastly, you must destroy the stone in the fiery pit of the Wakhanee so its power may never be used against us and the dead may never again be raised."
"I don't understand. Why would you need such a thing?"
"And I will not make it any clearer. That is the Master's will." Thasa glanced at the agitated, fearful faces before him and took pity. "I will say only, consider our beginnings, where did we come from? The stone is used to raise the dead, to create-- to control." Watching the color drain from their faces he thought perhaps he had gone too far, knowledge had not been his mandate.
He shook his head, angry at himself, and went on, wondering if the outsider was going to be sick. "Now, the dolphins will remain in aid and, after your return from Eru the Conduit will sing her song of release. The souls will come. They will free themselves from their willing hosts and come forward for her embrace." He directed his white eyed gaze at Ahlisha. "She will hold them within her. You, Thoughtmaster, through the power of the stone, must order them to destroy the Daha'et. It is the only way to free the Wakhanee---the only way to please the True Master." His cold gaze fell to Vero, still pale and shaking. "He knew about the dead, what she was and you are not-- only she is the Conduit."
Ahlisha turned anguished eyes to Vero in disbelief. The Masterhand could not face her.
"I knew it! He's known everything all along! What else do you know, Outsider? What other lies do you hold in your chest?" Taoe raged, pulling his sword and swinging wildly in threat. Before he could cross to Vero, however, a Ghenosh guard intercepted him, blocking his path.
"There is no point to this," Thasa snapped impatiently, "the Daha'et must be stopped, and only these two, with the stone and Vero's help, will be able."
"What song?" Ahlisha barely managed to choke out, oblivious to almost all that was taking place around her but for those words.
Thasa's face softened. "You will know, Ahlisha. Your dreams will have provided the knowledge to your heart which beats with the strength of the true bard."
"How do you know all this? How can you be positive I can control this stone?" Rhan demanded.
"That is not your affair. Say that we listen to Pxhatithane, the True Master when he speaks. That, is our charge."
"But it is wrong to bring the dead to life. They have done their time and deserve their rest. All my studies teach me this, warn against it. Is that not what the Daha'et have done, brought the dead to life? Just as murder.." Rhan’s strangled voice faded to a whisper. "..is wrong." His head fell heavily to his chest, eyes burning into the criminal’s brand. "You would force me to commit another atrocity?"
The Ghenosh's eyes flickered with their first display of emotion. "That is your belief, Rhan. Sometimes murder is the only way when dealing with one such as your brother. As for those who answer your call, they have chosen their fate. It is their right. And you were only taught the sins of raising the dead to keep all away from the stone. It was necessary, for we had not the strength to destroy it ourselves, nor were we directed to. The stone obviously had a destiny to fulfil, and any who gained knowledge of it were watched-- carefully." He stared at Rhan a moment, then sighed, knowing he could not ease the man's pain.
"Only the purest of souls and those of power will come to you. They are the only ones the dolphins choose, and only we hold their names, Soulstealer must pass them on to us. The rest float freely among the waves." His gaze returned to Ahlisha. "The unwanted, the evil, remain locked in Soulstealer's wood. The chosen will wish to come to your aid but first, to reach them, you must cross the path of the unwanted in the Forest of the Dead."
He waited for them to voice concerns, but they remained strangely silent. "This land is guarded, as I'm sure you're aware, by Soulstealer. It is he who spreads his net across the body of the dead---he who catches the soul and brings it home, their names, if worthy, passing over to us. Soulstealer will open the way to you, the first living creatures to ever pass through his gates, but for us. Beware, the forest is filled with those of bad nature, of unwanted desires. It is a dangerous place, but will lead you quickly and unhindered by attack or tracking, to Wellman's bay. You must pass this test before the souls will accept the Conduit."
"But the dead," Rhan groaned thinking of his mother, brother, and wife. "And now you say we began as.. as the dead! Whose dead!"
Thasa looked away, wishing he had never spoken.
Vero nearly fell to his knees. Yes, whose dead? he wondered in panic.
"You could never understand."
Staring into Thasa’s accusing eyes, Vero knew he must control himself and speak. It was time. "Now, you know why I did not want to tell you the horrific truth. Only the dead can kill the dead." Vero spoke flatly, banishing the panic from his mind. He cast his eyes down, unwilling to think of Dlrow's beginnings or Thamos’s. There was only the task at hand now as his ideals and world crumbled around him. He felt heartsick when he thought of those called back from the dead to fight his brother's butchers on Thamos, those who would never walk the shadowlands again. Was not what they had done, were to do now, as evil and unforgivable, only, in the name of defense, as Orn's atrocities? Only God could answer. Whose dead....
He cleared his throat and tried to make them understand. "The souls, dark and light, will attract each other. You, Rhan, need only draw them out, guide them. They will drain the very life from the Daha'et--life that they have purchased so hideously, until they are only dust." Vero felt his eyes prick as he thought of his brother. "The souls will feed off you, draw your strength through the stone and Ahlisha. Your power will be the greater. They will obey your thoughts, your direction. The Daha'et will have no chance to feed, to replenish a defense, and if those they hold captive believe they can fight back, they won't stand a chance. The power of this stone must be immense."
Thasa nodded gravely. "For me, the power lies in my hand," he slowly raised his right hand, "it, is my stone." He did not wipe away his tears.
"The souls you have released will not survive. They will be extinguished to oblivion." Vero would say nothing of another, terrible possibility that he was well aware of. He glanced at Thasa but the Ghenosh did not speak. The Masterhand felt himself flush under the creature’s scrutiny, then grew angry. They were cowards, both of them, him and Thasa--secret holding cowards, but then again perhaps they were wrong. He knew for certain he was a coward because he had not decided - not faced the fact that it would be he who killed Orn if necessary.
"It appears the only way on this world, Rhan, I had hoped.... But no, you, must have the Conduit, the stone, and, me," Vero admitted, dropping his eyes once more so he would not have to face the others, especially Taoe whose cold eyes he could feel boring into his back. He was relieved, however, that one of the secrets he held had just been shared. "I didn’t know about the stone."
Rhan lifted his eyes and faced the Ghenosh. "I’m not sure if I understand or even want too, but I accept what I must do. How do we cross the Dead Forest?"
At that moment Thasa raised an object he was holding which shed a polished, shimmering glow over the group. "This will guide you. You must hold the crystal above your head. The dead cannot kill you outright, but will feed off your fear and madness. Remember that. They are dead and have no true power over the living. This will show them you have our aid, and Soulstealers. They might stand back, or most will, at least for a time. Soulstealer will not come directly to your aid, other than to open the way. He cannot."
"Couldn’t you just let us fly the winged lions to the bay?" Rhan asked, directing his gaze to the pens that held the creatures, regal and aloof. They flapped their wings in agitation at Rhan’s suggestion.
Thasa nearly strangled on his anger. "No! They cannot fly through the forest, and I would never subject them to that. They are few enough in number as it is." He nodded at the hunched up raven who sat on a branch just above Rhan. "That one will guide you. The crystal will guard you. You must keep yourselves alive, and sane. It is a test the souls demand, as do we. Stay a night and enjoy our hospitality. You are fatigued and there is much to understand, much at stake. Rest now, we'll talk more over the evening meal."
Rhan, feeling dismissed, bowed stiffly in acquiescence, allowing four of the Ghenosh guard to lead them to their quarters while others took charge of their tired ponies. A young Ghenosh opened Lka’s cage and gave him a gentle squeeze before handing him over to Rhan. Lka smiled indulgently, his eyes on the back of the guard as he moved away.
Thasa stopped Finnuala as she stepped past him. "I see you have met Ehran," he commented, gazing at the staff she leaned on.
She smiled. "Yes. Is it as lovely as I believe?"
Thasa took her hand and whispered into her ear. "It is as lovely as you."
Finnuala's sightless eyes watched him depart dreamily, her heart filled with joy at the kindness he had bestowed upon her, first with the sight he had given, now, with his words.
They climbed a tall Flovn tree on a ladder of sturdy branches to their sprawling quarters, where they were expected to room together, which suited them well.
The walls of the tree house were lined with moss. Soft beds, of moss and leaf, rested against the sides. The floor fled jauntily before them, carpeted with leaves and flower petals. Off to one side stood a wash room that held a large clay urn as a commode, and a deep tub. Warm water bubbled and burped over a small peat fire in preparation for their baths. The travelers were suitably impressed.
Ahlisha walked through an opening in the branches to find herself on a modest balcony which overlooked both forest and village. She sighed at the beauty, breathing deeply of the fragrant, damp air. Colorful yellow and gold leaves shivered in a cool breeze, fluttering against her cheek, like the soft gentle kisses of an elderly aunt. Rhan's near silent footfalls startled her, but his voice reassured. She felt her stomach dance with his nearness. His lips brushed her ear, and she could feel his warm breath when he spoke. "We need to talk."
Ahlisha turned in the tight space and faced him. Shrugging, she said quietly, "Talk."
"I want you to understand how Sesha, my wife, died." His eyes, still pained at the memory, whipped away from her face. Ahlisha longed to hold him and share that hurt.
"I was away a lot, traveling with Taoe, doing odd jobs for the Elders, farmers, whoever and wherever I could make coin with my power or strength. Sesha grew lonely and took to visiting Etan and Jilley more and more. I came back one day and found her beaten, huddled in a corner, there was blood all over her body and she trembled…" Rhan's voice wavered as he remembered his outrage and panic, the way she had pulled away when he had reached for her.
Ahlisha allowed his silence, not pushing him to continue, for which he was grateful. Collecting himself he labored on, "Anyway, that time I stayed in Waterside until she had healed and to my joy found her to be with child. But she did not share my delight. She barely spoke above a whisper and winced when I touched her. I began to wonder...to wonder about the timing of the child. She would never tell me exactly what had happened to her, you see, only that she had been robbed, by a stranger, but it... it just didn't fit.
"When I thought she was ready, I went out to find work. When I returned…she was dead, by her own hand. I say to those I choose to tell, that Etan killed her, because.." His voice dropped to a whisper. "He did but, so did I. It was after Sesha’s burial, on the trek back from the sea, that Etan's wife, Jilley, told me Etan had raped Sesha, got her with child. It was not long after that I caught him with you, and the rage...I cannot describe it."
His hands dropped and Ahlisha longed to take them in her own, but she knew he was not ready.
"Don't you see! It was my fault that Sesha died. I killed her as much as Etan. If I had been home, taken up another trade, only traveled if my power was needed...and Etan.... I didn't have to kill him. I could have renounced him, seen him go to trial for his perversities. He would have lost his position as Elder, but his death was all I wanted, could see, causing the destruction of not just my life, but my family's, and Taoe's."
Ahlisha wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffing quietly. "Oh, Rhan! Etan deserved to die. He was an evil, evil man. And it's not your fault that Sesha died. How could you know if she did not tell you? But only you can remove the blame you have placed at your feet and trapped with your heart, and until you do, you cannot love again." She turned away, heartbroken.
Rhan reached out, then dropped his hand. "That you can find anything in me to love gives me courage and hope, Ahlisha, but I also vowed to bring you home untouched and whole, and that I will do."
The others looked up when Rhan returned but no one, taking in the expression on his face, intruded by asking questions. Only Finnuala, who could not see, asked where Ahlisha was. Rhan gently took her hand and led her to the girl, hoping the older woman could offer the comfort he could not. He heard Ahlisha's sobs as he walked away, but did not, could not, turn around.
The Kesh's cage dangled from a thick branch in a corner bathed in sunlight and Lka chattered amicably, though his eyes constantly darted to the balcony while the others lounged on their soft beds. The falcon stood silently near Taoe's head, glaring about the room now that the hood had been removed. Vero longed to stroke Rhawan, but fear and repulsion kept him back.
"What d'ya make of all this?" Taoe finally asked Rhan when he slumped down on a bed himself.
"I want to know what will happen to Ahlisha, as Conduit." His gaze fell accusingly on Vero.
Vero shrugged but did not answer.
Rhan sighed. "Lka called me Thoughtmaster long ago." His gaze traveled to the Kesh, who was listening with rapt attention. "But I didn't understand. Now, I do… to a certain degree. I wish I had never allowed Ahlisha to come."
"She had to come, Wizard," Vero said dully. "It was the only way. She is strong and her love and courage will sustain you."
"This is your fault." Rhan's low, whispering voice pierced the room, its softness by no means gentle.
Vero only shrugged again. He knew this.
Rhan sucked in deeply to control his anger and lay back against the soft moss pillow. "If she dies...."
Vero did not shrug this time. He was in no way indifferent to the possibility of Ahlisha's death. All his beliefs about the way Dlrow operated had been right, and telling Rhan everything from the first would have benefited no one, perhaps even made things worse
By way of the dragon. The Ghenosh’s words haunted Vero. His mind, though he tried to focus on Celinder, always returned to the nasty red Rhan had killed. He wondered, but did not ask, what Rhan knew of Eru. He could feel the other’s anger tightly wound and ready to fire, and any target especially him, would do.

THIRTY EIGHT

A Ghenosh guard arrived as the concealed sun beat a hasty retreat from a newly overcast sky. He led them halfway down the ladder, then along a narrow bridge to what he referred to as Thasa’s hall. This structure was filled with long tables and chairs fashioned from living branches. The smell of roasting meat lingered in the air, making the mouths of the guests water, but for Vero. Mercifully, however, Vero found there was something for all tastes.
Thasa sat with his guests while several Ghenosh worked quickly and efficiently to place the sumptuous meal before them. Once the meal was over, while they lingered over wine, the ruler stretched out a large map before them.
He ran his finger along the twisting path they would follow through the Flovn wood to the Blueband Mountains. He pointed to a narrow passage, barely discernible to the eye, that disappeared through the rock into the forest beyond "There is where you enter the swamp that leads to Soulstealer's Wood."
He then traced his finger along the path they should follow through the swamp, were they to lose the raven. He continued, with elegant precision, through the twisting and dangerous forest beyond. Thasa rolled up the map and handed it to Rhan. "Take this. Study it well on this night and carry it with you at all times."
Rhan bowed over the table. "Our thanks."
Next, Thasa placed a small black pouch on the table and shook out its contents, the crystal shone once more sparkling under the flickering candlelight that illuminated the hall. "Remember to hold it aloft. Take turns if you weary."
Rhan nodded and accepted this gift, as well. He stared thoughtfully at Thasa. "A question -- are we to send our prayers to the Wakhanee or the True Master?" he asked to confirm his own beliefs.
"The Wakhanee are here for you, Human. Pray to them. Like the other Elder races, without the constant attention of the True Master our time might nearly be done. The Book of Shadows might pass to another." Rhan shivered as Thasa's voice echoed that of the Quixh's. "But let us hope that it never comes to pass. I have felt new insight into the Master with this crisis. The time may come when our powers wane and we change what we have been, when we might also have to heed the Wakhanee, but I believe we will survive this transition, even, flourish. Our existence will end but begin anew. That is my hope. My father used to say, 'the only way to get to where you are going, is by the path you've already been.'"
Rhan smiled, nodding at the wisdom of the words, then bowed to Thasa.
Climbing further down the ladder after the meal, wishing some time to himself, Rhan moved to stand near the pens of the winged lions. He watched them in awe. Their beautiful golden fur and long thick manes fascinated him. The heavy wings and piercing green eyes enchanting him in a way nothing else ever had. He longed to stroke one, but knew he would never be tolerated.
A sudden voice at his side startled him. "Thank you for speaking with Ahlisha. She needed to hear how you felt - and why."
Finnuala. "I know." He looked around to see who had brought her and noticed Taoe standing with Rhawan perched on his shoulder not too far away.
"Describe them to me…these creatures I have only heard of in tales," she asked, suddenly passionate, her fingers on his cloak.
Rhan smiled a rare wide grin that crinkled his eyes and danced a well painted picture through her mind.
That night, after the luxury of long baths, while they lay trying to find sleep, Ahlisha plied them with the questions of her own fear. How would she know the song? What if the dolphins did not come? What would happen to her when they did? No one could answer for her, and both Vero and the Ghenosh, if they knew the answers, had chosen not to.
Taoe wrapped his arms tightly around his body and glared into the dark, wishing it were he that was chosen for such a task rather then the lovely, delicate Ahlisha. He could not bear to see her die and he knew Rhan could not. Conduit-- the title echoed coldly in his ears. He felt a chill run down his spine. The darkness well hid the agony in Vero's eyes but even were the warrior to see it, he might not, through his anger, recognize it.
Rhan dozed into a fitful sleep, Ahlisha's questions milling around in his brain. He began to dream. He was floating, Etan and Sesha's spectral faces bobbing beside him as he walked, continuing his journey. Someone waited in the distance, but he couldn’t see, hard as he tried. The small figure was shrouded by a heavy fog. He moved closer, across the grayness of the dream's landscape, lit only by a white sun in a black sky. The figure opened its arms, waiting to embrace him. Ahlisha, her slight form melted into that of Celinder’s. He moaned aloud.
Etan began to laugh uproariously while Sesha sobbed. Rhan tried to knock his brother's face away with a powerful swing, but the specter danced out of reach, still laughing. Looking ahead, Rhan found Ahlisha's small form had begun to change yet again. He tried to run toward her, but she only moved further away and when he finally reached her, she had become the Wakhanee, who stared with mute pleading as Etan's sword ripped through them.
. Rhan's terrified cries reached them before dawn's bleached light filtered through the branches, leaving them blinking in the dull gray light that suffused the tree room. Rhan himself, sat up slowly and rubbed tired eyes, which focused on the wakening Ahlisha. Her beauty made his heart tremble. A dream… all a dream. He sagged in relief.
"Everything all right, Rhan?" Finnuala called from across the room, her throat tight with residual sleep and the fear of being woken suddenly.
"Yeah, just a dream." He looked away shamefully while the others began to move about. They would not push him. Ahlisha came and sat near him on his pallet and lay a small, comforting hand on his arm. "I'm fine," he announced gruffly, rising quickly from the bed.
Rhan stood pouring studiously over the map while his companions packed up their gear for departure. He was worried about finding the mountain passage, but no doubt the raven would hang on at least that long, though he could not join them within the rock. Ravens were notorious for forgetting the task at hand and going off on some pursuit of their own, only to return too late, and since Rhan was unable to call the bird, he needed it close by. He heard the raven caw outside his window. It was time to go.
The Ghenosh led their ponies, well fed and watered, to them, then filled their packs and flasks before bidding them farewell. Ahlisha's fear filled, pleading gaze caught Thasa, still sleepy himself, off guard and he called softly, "The song will come, Conduit. Do not be afraid."
Rhan glanced down at the Kesh hanging by his leg, but the creature was silent. He wished it would sing. Even Taoe's falcon appeared nervous. The raven flew out ahead into the rising sun, directing them from above, but Rhan still chose to keep a close eye on the map he had stretched over the saddle horn.
The day was warm, the air filled with a soothing, cool breeze. The sun rode high above them, and, at first glance, all appeared right with the world. Rhan knew, however, this was not so, but chose to ignore the sun’s unusual shape and position in the sky.
Soon, the Flovn trees and their bright, fragrant flowers, yellow leaves spreading roots, and diving branches began to give way to towering mountain pines. The Bluebands came closer and closer, rising up before them in majesty, their peaks encircled by wreathing clouds that drifted gracefully down and clung fiercely at dizzying heights. Like the hair on the head of a balding man, tall trees speckled the back of the shade freckled mountain, leaving the top bare. The rock was softened only by flowing waterfalls that ran down its face like tears.
They rode on, the sound of the small creek that babbled through the Ghenosh village growing farther away, dragging with it, it seemed, their courage and hope. Rhan stared up at the silent barricade before them and felt his heart shrivel. Why was he doing this? He could turn back and take Ahlisha home, but no, only they could save his land now-- his home. ..A penance for abandoning their true Masters-- the True Master.
When the raven finally came to rest atop a narrow rock ledge above the entrance to the swamp, the companions could only stare. The dark hewn throat of the cavern opened narrowly before them, deep into the mountain's belly, and seemed to blow from it’s mouth a foul, chill breath. The ponies would not make it. They would have to be left behind. Rhan was not concerned for their safety. He knew they would head back to the village, but he was angered the Ghenosh had not told him this. They would lose so much time, never mind being on foot through the Dead Wood. He shook his head morosely and stared at the sky, blackening well before its time. He wondered what strange thing it would throw at them next, but only the beginnings of a gentle rain began to cascade down. Glancing at the map, he realized that Thasa most likely had not thought it necessary to point out the obvious - it was more than clear how narrow the path was.
"We might as well camp here for the night. It's dark already and…" He hesitated so Taoe spoke for him.
"The ponies won't fit."
Rhan nodded. "We're safe here and it might be the last time we'll be safe for a while." The others, after donning their fur lined cloaks to combat the cool, wet weather, began to unload their gear and set up a makeshift covering out of branches and rope so they would at least be out of the rain. There was little protection, however, from the bracing mountain air that wafted toward them from the opening of the passage as if in warning.
Rhan studied the map and his spell book by a struggling fire and prayed fervently to the Wakhanee for their success. He tried not to think of how little he knew about Eru or any land across the sea, for that matter, glad that Vero, keeping his own counsel, had not yet asked. But then, the Masterhand knew and anticipated things Rhan had not even imagined. He wished now he had questioned Thasa more on Eru and the Clansman, but he had not. Out of what? Fear? Confusion? It didn’t matter now. There were just too many other issues at the time. They would simply follow Thasa’s instructions and go blindly toward their fate. He suddenly knew how Finnuala felt. He had just been too overwhelmed to ask all the questions that needed asking. He had let them down.

THIRTY NINE

Ahlisha spent a restless night dreaming about what it might mean to be the Conduit. She was intensely afraid, but would rather die than allow Rhan to know. At least now, she knew she truly was meant to be with him. Awake, she shivered in the cold morning air, and dragged the fur lined cloak more snugly about her. Would she die?
Rhan glanced her way as he set about kindling the fire’s dying embers. "You all right?"
"Fine. Just cold," she mumbled from beneath the fur.
"It'll be colder inside the passage. We'll all need our cloaks. At least the rain has stopped," he finished abruptly, but he wanted to say more, to tell her how courageous, how lovely he thought her. He shook his head. He could not.
She watched him intently, curious yellow eyes peeking from her covering but did not speak.
Finnuala called to her and she rose, still clinging to the cloak, to join the healer, whose calm words seemed to be her only balm. She was beginning to harbor a deep love for the woman. ….A love that, in its returning, was confusingly double edged.
Taoe stood and stretched, scratching at his shrinking belly, his eyes darting warily toward the black pit of the tunnel entrance. His gaze fell to Lka. "We'll need the Kesh in there….He's been awfully quiet of late."
Rhan shrugged. "He does as he will." But his heart quaked at the Kesh's silence. He wished the little creature would choose to speak to him or even sing.
The raven cawed loudly before flying up into the cloud lined sky lit by the first traces of morning. Taoe glanced nervously at Rhan and the Da’liesh comforted him. "He only goes to hunt, besides he won’t enter the tunnel but will join us on the other side. Now, if I could get this damn fire started, we could eat and get on our way!"
The wet wood hissed and crackled before it finally took the spark from Rhan's flint, the waning embers beneath no help at all.
After a silent, cold, but for the coffee, meal, they found themselves standing uneasily before the entrance. The mountains loomed over them, casting a sinister shadow that fled before the encroach of the rising sun. Rhan sent up a prayer to the Wakhanee then glanced back nervously at the loose ponies before leading his companions across the cool, damp threshold of the Blueband's. The ponies stared dumbly after them.
They struggled uncomfortably under the weight of shouldering all the gear, but tried not to groan aloud. The corridor, itself, was dark as the deepest night, and the clatter of their gear reverberated through the rock walls, sending the noise crashing back toward them. Finnuala recoiled in terror, Raece growling at her side. Taoe's falcon let out an ear splitting shriek that sliced through the dog’s rumble.
"Quiet," Rhan snarled. "We need to be more quiet. Who knows what awaits us in here, so close to Soulstealer!"
"We're trying," Ahlisha snapped back furiously as she clutched Finnuala to her side and tried not to stumble under the weight she carried.
They followed the winding passages with only the small, gentle light of Lka to lead the way, for what seemed days, more than hours, until Rhan finally brought them to a halt near an underground creek, its soft babbling a soothing relief.
"We can rest here, but be on your guard."
They sat down nervously, eyes straining to see in the dark.
Ahlisha breathed deep as she sank her feet into the cool water, then coughed on the stale, pungent air that strode heavily through the passage, unused and stagnant. Finnuala, as always, sat near her but, shivering from the bone numbing cold, did not get her feet wet. Raece, however, frolicked happily in the small crests, lapping up water, his spirits quickly revived.
Taoe sat close to Vero while Rhan busied himself laying a fire with the twigs and moss he had carried in. "So, there’s notin’ more you can tell us?" the warrior said to the Masterhand, glancing toward Ahlisha.
"No." Vero did not lift his head.
"You lie," Taoe announced coldly, bearing yellowed teeth at Vero. "I think you know what's gonna happen to Rhan and Ahlisha. Ya just won't say, that's all. Why?" He demanded inching closer to Vero, who slid swiftly away from the large swordsman.
"I can't say. I don’t know for certain what will happen. I can only guess - put what I know of both our lands together, what I have been told in my dreams by the Wakhanee, the Ghenosh, and my, our...God.. I could be completely wrong in any ideas I have. Therefore, I won't say. There are ways of my world that are totally different than yours that you just wouldn't understand."
"But, what if you're right, Vero?" Taoe's tone was icy. "And what are you going to do about it? I don’t believe you cannot kill Orn. You would trade the destruction of my world for your own? Is that it?"
The Masterhand shrugged and slid further away, turning to face the rock. Taoe stood stiffly, shaking his head angrily, his eyes on Vero’s back. Finally, he walked stiffly to Rhan's side, trying not to jangle his weapons. He coughed on the smoking fire the Da’liesh had going, leaving his voice hoarse. "I can make him talk."
"You could not, Taoe. He could kill us all in an instant if he chose. Don't make him our enemy. He could tell us more, yes, I agree but…" Rhan tugged at his beard and twisted his hands together, his gaze searching for Ahlisha. He found her holding the Kesh, "maybe, we don't want to know, and can we truly expect him to put our people before the safety of his own?"
Taoe flexed his fingers and stared angrily toward Vero.
Rhan followed his gaze, studying the wizard. He knew, and Taoe knew, that what he’d said was not true. They did want to know - everything. Vero knew what would happen to Ahlisha, and both men wished desperately to have that information. Could they expect Vero to put Dlrow first - yes. Would he? Rhan stared at the Masterhand…probably not.
After a hasty meal the companions continued following the twisting, turning tunnels that led them deep into the bowels of the mountain, with little choice but to trust Rhan's guiding abilities. They arrived on the other side in the true darkness of night.
Rhan swore colorfully when he looked toward the sky and found it bereft of any light, moon or stars. Holding the still silent Lka out ahead, he led the group to a stand of gnarled trees where they set up a makeshift camp. In the morning they would see exactly where they were. For the night, they would take turns standing guard. From what he could make out of the map under the dim light of the Kesh, they had not yet stepped onto Soulstealer's land, but it was not far, just the other side of the swamp that loomed before them. The Raven cawed from somewhere near, easing Rhan's heart. They had taken the right path, and he had not forgotten them.
Rhan argued against a fire, which would only alert any seekers of their presence, so they went to sleep cold and hungry, the mist from their breath freezing their faces. Vero shivered under his cloak and tried not to think of his brother.
They opened their eyes the next morning to a dismal sight. The few stands of trees which clung to the edge of mountain where they had lain, stood with twisted trunks, barks peeling in a diseased viral death. They prepared quickly to depart under the forlorn regard of the sickly trees. The day had already begun to warm up to a blistering, intense heat, that caused the swamp to bubble and burp. It gave off noxious fumes, obviously, what had killed and was killing the trees. The air was alive with droning, stinging insects, but sadly absent of trilling birds.
Covering their mouths with bits of torn cloth, they staggered along the path that Rhan had been told to follow, the raven floating overhead.
Rhan walked with one hand gripping his staff and the other the map. Lka, his cage tied tightly to Rhan’s pack, swung pendulously back and forth, a tiny piece of cloth covering his face. The thick cloth tied over Rhan's mouth, suffocated him and he longed to remove it. His nervous, wary gaze slid continuously from the map to the raven overhead, and back again.
Tall weeds waved menacingly at them from the swamp, blowing in a brisk breeze that wafted from a serene, blazing sky, spreading the pungent odor for all to share. Pools of bubbling quicksand clung to the edges of the path, reaching out as if in search of a victim. Rhan called out a warning for everyone to watch their step.
The drone of insects constantly alerted the travelers to their presence but did not warn them of any impending threat. When Rhan's foot cracked down on an elderly, decomposing branch from one of the decaying trees, they were surprised by the roar of the frenzied wasps as they rose from their battered hive to do battle.
Ahlisha backed away, screeching as the swarm dove again and again. Rhan, ignoring the insects’ burning stings, shouted unheard warnings to stay on the path. He then pointed his staff at his heart, while quickly tracing the eye along his face. Calling the power to him, he began to speak the soothing words of a charm.
Raece whimpered and barked beside Finnuala. The raven dove to their rescue, killing as many wasps as he could while Rhawan cried out in panic, snapping wasps in half like twigs.
Finnuala felt Ahlisha fall at her side, heard her gasping for air. Ignoring her own burning bites and the continued attack, she knelt by the girl and called Raece to her side.
Taoe shouted savagely at the two to get up, but on seeing Ahlisha's face, he nearly sobbed. It was swollen beyond recognition. Her protruding tongue was blue and her chest barely rose and fell. "Vero!" He grabbed the outsider's sleeve and pointed.
"My God," the Masterhand raised his hand to stop the attack just as Rhan's charm took effect. The wasps calmed instantly. Forgetting their fury, they returned sedately to their broken hive. Vero dropped his hand with relief and moved to stand over Ahlisha and the healer.
"What happened?" Rhan called back. His voice was muffled by the cloth and swollen lips. The path was too narrow for him to join them.
"Ahlisha, she appears to be vulnerable to the stings. I must heal her but if I do, I can't help the rest of you or I'll be too tired to travel. I’m weak from my own reaction to the stings, and there is no where for me to sleep here. If I don't heal her now, she'll die." Finnuala's voice shook.
"Do it!" Rhan shouted.
Finnuala nodded but, for her, there had been no other alternative. Ahlisha was soon sitting up, smiling at her benefactor, the swelling nearly gone, while her companions swollen, red faces peered back. She grasped Finnuala's hands. "Can't you help them too, Nuala?"
"No. If I do, I will have to rest and who can carry me here? I need you well, to guide me, Fingal. We will heal in time." Finnuala winced as she ran her hand over her own face.
Taoe grinned. "That's right, Conduit, you're the important one, best lookin' too. We'll be fine." Ahlisha shuddered at the title but at the same time she felt elated, special for the first time ever. She, Ahlisha, had been chosen to save the Masters and her home, she thought with renewed courage.
She turned back to Finnuala once more. "What did you call me-- Fingal?"
Finnuala blushed. "Beloved, it just means beloved."
Ahlisha nodded. She liked the name but was confused and unhappy at Nuala's discomfiture. Taoe frowned but did not speak. He was glad the healer could not see Vero's naked pity, something that took Taoe by surprise.
"Let's get out of here," Rhan mumbled through ever swelling lips, his relief bringing tears to his eyes which he quickly wiped away… but Lka had seen. The raven added it's impatient voice to his.
"Have faith." The Kesh's voice filled him.
Rhan nodded dumbly, allowing the comfort of the creature's voice to soothe him, glad to have Lka speaking to him again
*****
Soulstealer, a black translucent wraith, drifted lazily through his forest, awaiting their arrival. He knew they came but also knew he could not, would not, interfere. He only hoped the Ghenosh had done their part. He was a part of this world and wished no change. The Daha'et were a threat, stealing his souls, but he was what he was-- sky, earth, sea, death and he could not, but for the Ghenosh, attend to the living. He could only open the way to the forest, and that, he would do.
******
Bellies growling with hunger, they came upon Soulstealer's forest in the dead of a moonless night, a full day later. They had taken no rests, using Lka and the raven as their guides, and the ill lit map their path. The raven, during darkness, had ridden on Rhan's shoulder. He now cawed his abrupt refusal to continue.
"No, don’t fret. We'll camp here this night and go in to the forest during the day. You'll still fly for us?" The bird's reply was audible only to Rhan.
"Back up," Rhan whispered. "We don't want to be too close." The others turned obediently.
The swamp had dried up a few hundred yards back and the land was firm, though the trees were gnarled and sadly twisted, their pitiful branches bare. "No fires," he cautioned after they made a small camp. "We still have supplies of dried meat, cheese, bread, ale-- we can use those. The air is still warm anyway." The intense heat had died away with the swamp, leaving behind a warm summer's night under a sky lit by nothing.
Taoe sat near Rhan and stroked his still unnerved but unharmed falcon. "You look bad."
Rhan smiled. "And you think you look better, my friend?" He sighed heavily. "I'm glad Ahlisha made it."
Taoe clapped him on the shoulder. "We all are. I think..."
"What?"
"I think Vero was going to help against the wasps when he saw Ahlisha. I saw him raise his hands just before your charm took hold."
"I'm glad he didn't. We have no room to fight dragons, wraiths or anyone here, and I don't want to announce our presence."
"True but, I'm glad...well that he was willin'."
"Vero's not all bad, Taoe." His gaze found the outsider talking quietly with the women. "He's here. He's helping us to kill the brother he believes he could, maybe just would, not kill. Can we blame him for not telling all? Or that the Daha'et found us? Maybe, but what would be the point? I cannot say I would have acted differently in his place. These are his kin. He must still return to his world. I pity him."
"You've changed, Rhan," Taoe commented wearily.
"Have I?" Rhan seemed surprised. "I've learned in the last year or so but not really changed-- say grown."
"What about Ahlisha?"
"I'm no good for her, Taoe. Don't start with me on it."
"You're meant for each other. Even the Masters agree. Thoughtmaster, I like that!"
Rhan glared at Taoe. "Leave it. Many's the time you don't take life seriously enough, Taoe."
The grinning warrior raised his hands, palms out. "Sorry." But his heart beat with a sadness he could share with none. It was not his way. He knew that Rhan’s heart still ached with the loss of his wife, and the murder of his brother. The warrior could only hope one day Rhan would be free from the pain his friend would gladly take from him, if only for a day.
As a whole, the group slept fitfully that night, Taoe, Vero and Rhan taking uneasy turns at watch. At dawn the raven cawed an abrupt, wakeful greeting, hopping impatiently from foot to foot. Even he did not wish to prolong his stay in or near the Dead Forest. The tenebrous sky was crowded with dark clouds that resembled their thoughts as they packed their gear and prepared to step into the unknown, onto the otherside, where no living soul but Ghenosh had traveled before. On this day the forest path, which opened only for dead, opened also for the living. It began to grow hot despite the anger of the sky.
At the edge of the wood, Rhan wiped the sweat of fear and the intense heat from his brow and hoisted the crystal into the air. He had tied it to the end of his staff knowing he could not hold it aloft for too long. They stared at it curiously, willing it to share its potency. It gleamed cold and clear like the heart of the crippled forest that wove before them.
Rhan peered in turn at each of his companions, encouraging them with his own eyes, which held a faint hint of defeat themselves. He then checked Lka's tie. With a deep faltering breath, he took a hesitant step, leading his companions into the arms of death. All at once, the scene changed, the temperature plummeted, and they found themselves shivering, teeth chattering. They had crossed over. The forest they stepped into was completely different than the one they had left. Raece growled low, his hair standing high on his nape. Rhawan uttered a shriek as unearthly as the land around them. It only added to their chill. They quickly donned their cloaks before continuing, but the cloaks could not warm the soul.
Voices, pitched low, called out eerily to them from transparent forms that flitted between the gnarled, tormented trees forever trapped in winter. The hard ground slapped against their feet, tapping a staccato to the drumming beat of their hearts.
The voices began to gain force as they moved further into the woods, calling them by name, welcoming them, holding out withered hands that froze with a touch. Ahlisha clung to Finnuala and began to moan. Raece whined and licked at her hand when she started to sink toward the ground, pulling the healer with her. "Think of the desperation you have caused your good mother," they cried only for her, "penance, penance. Ruined you are, cannot go home. Warm, living blood, feed us. Penance."
"No," Rhan shouted to those that beseeched only him, holding the crystal higher where it began to glow, giving off a pure, white light. The craven souls hissed and backed away.
"You, brother killer, dare thwart us?" a familiar voice called.
"Etan," Rhan gasped painfully.
Etan spoke up for all to hear. "Leave her. She is mine.. weak - and we will allow you to pass. I will let you live, brother killer."
"Never!" Taoe bellowed, waving his sword wildly as Rhan dropped to his knees, clinging to the staff, his heart rent. The forest tingled with the brittle chill of their unworldly laugh, like shards of ice shattering on the ground.
Vero, unmolested and unknown to the dead, had lifted Ahlisha and began to carry her, though he knew he could not go far. Cursing his weakness, he stumbled on. Taoe swung his sword in wide arcs, guarding their backs uselessly. Finnuala had gripped Vero's tunic, following him, dragging her staff behind her. Her weight, added to Ahlisha's, slowed him even further. Raece continued to whimper, rubbing against the healer. Rhawan had become silent.
When Etan's voice left him, Rhan stood up weakly. He stepped in beside Finnuala, grasping her arm as she tripped over a root so tightly she nearly squealed in pain. He focused his own pain on guiding her, though his heart lurched at the sight of Ahlisha's pale, drawn face in Vero's arms. Raece began to growl anew. Lka uttered not a sound. The Raven, trying to distract Rhan, cawed loudly, keeping pace with his stumbling charges.
The icy chill of death spread through their souls as the words of the unwanted pierced their hearts, and the touch of their tormentors froze their skin, breaking them down. Rhan began to flag once more, lowering the crystal with each step. Raece bumped him with his nose, trying desperately to push it back up but with each stride their wills gave way to guilt and hopelessness, the hopelessness that froze the forest into its eternal winter. Only Vero remained unaffected, for this was not his world.
"No!" Lka, his voice shaking with fear, rage, finally cried into the ever darkening forest. The souls hissed at his voice. "I will not allow this. I will control my fear, remember who - what I am." He began to glow brighter and brighter, then sing, his voice strong and firm.
Rhan started and heaved his staff into the air with fingers so numb he nearly dropped it. With blue, stiff, still swollen lips, he repeated Lka's words, like a mantra, his companions soon joining in but for Ahlisha, who lay limp in Vero's embrace.
The Masterhand's arms and back ached, his thighs burned, but he would not drop his precious burden, and he knew when he returned home--if--he would be a changed man. That transformation would bring change to his world.
"You can stop now." Lka's voice trembling with fatigue, filled Rhan.
The Da’liesh fell to his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around himself, allowing the heat of the day to warm his stiff body. Vero landed with a sob beside him, unable to even remove Ahlisha's limp body from his stiffened limbs. Taoe dropped his sword and lay face down on the cool grass, gasping for breath, while Finnuala, led by Raece, tried to remove Ahlisha from the Masterhand so she could revive her.
The healer, without her sight and with the pureness of her gift within, had fared better, but the cold had taken its toll as had the few voices that pummeled her with the bitterness she had retained over her gift. Even she had not fully been spared the cruel barbs of her own past-- the bitterness she had wove as, at first, she had raged against the boon that afflicted her.
After what seemed an endless time, Rhan sat up and gathered brush for a small fire. Ahlisha lay, breathing softly, by Finnuala. The others stared with empty eyes at nothing. Taoe did not even notice that Vero was gently stroking the falcon, who willingly accepted the comfort. Lka breathed a heavy sigh and lay back in his padded cage.
Coffee, hot and smooth, brought them round as Rhan handed out the steaming mugs. Lka, now freed by the warrior from his cage, fluttered about them, his little brow creased with worry. Rhan gathered him up into a gentle hug. "Thank you."
Cheered and reassured, he returned to his home for a well-deserved nap.
"We made it," Taoe announced in awe, holding up his mug in a toast. "Are you well now, Ahlisha?"
"Yes," she croaked hoarsely, then smiled. "I owe you all my life." She took Vero's hand, still stiff with cold. "Especially you." Rhan glared at them, his heart suddenly stone. Why could it not have been he who helped her?
The Masterhand flushed, mumbling it was not a big deal but Rhan could see the joy and pride in his eyes at what he had accomplished, and he could no longer give way to his own fierce but petty jealousy. He had not saved Ahlisha, but he praised the Wakhanee that Vero had.
They stood at the edge of Soulstealer's forest the following morn, unaware of the relieved respite of death's lead hand. The forest was closed once more, shrouded in its wintry fog.
The land before them lay peppered in farmland, dotted by treed foothills that fled to the sea, it's beauty a boon to the weary soul. The raven, when they set out on the new trail, had cawed his farewell and departed, bearing news of their safe passage to the Ghenosh. The sky above was now a clear, cobalt blue, but sunless, though heat wafted around them like ocean waves.
Though they were healing from the many stings, most still flinched at the sound of a buzz. Insects were treated without mercy. Birds sang to them merrily, flitting from one copse of scrub to another, easing the chilled hearts of the travelers. They walked light footed across the fields dappled by the odd shade of the few maples that littered the trail. They were still far from the road to Portmouth but with lighter hearts they began the final leg of their journey to Wellman’s Bay.

Forty

"More mercenaries killed, Master," the large black dragon, Onhyx, reported too jovially.
"That makes you happy?"
"No, Master." The dragon grovelled in reaction to Orn’s tone, sidling up as close as his bulk would permit. "Perhaps I should go in search of these trouble makers myself?"
"Do we know their whereabouts now?" Orn, fingers fidgeting with his robe in agitation, directed his question to Itar.
"No, but we, or rather Raes believes, they have already met with the Ghenosh, where we apparently found the bodies of our mercenaries murdered, ostensibly, by a dragon. So, it appears that Sham was correct in his summations."
"Go then and if you don't succeed don't bother returning."
The dragon narrowed his gleaming eyes angrily, liking neither Orn's tone nor the groveling he had been doing. "Oh, I'll return."
"Wait," Orn called as the dragon began to drag its bulk from his cavern hall. "Any word from the Assembly? Have more joined our side?"
"A few," Onhyx admitted, curling his snout into a malicious grin. "I have done well, Master. The Assembly fights among itself. Who to join? What to do? Decisions, decisions, they were never good at them." He let out a raucous belly laugh.
"Good, that will keep them occupied. Now go, kill my enemies, especially the dragon who committed this offense."
"As you wish." Onhyx bowed his strong neck humbly, or so it appeared to Orn, and disappeared, thinking of the fun ahead.
"You push him too far, Orn. Remember they are powerful beasts. We don't wish them as enemies and, who knows the motives of that one?"
Orn waved his arm impatiently. "I'm not feeble of mind, Itar. I don't like that one. Better he's gone, dead even. It's good his charms do not work on us. Can we get no more information from these Ghenosh?"
"No, they cannot even be found, and from what I understand from Raes, as advised by Sham, it's not worth trying. They would never aid us, and can't be forced as the humans. Besides, it would take too much of our energy. Our numbers are too few."
"Why did we come to this God forsaken land, Itar? It is not as I dreamed-- much more consuming, difficult." Orn pouted, disrupting his shifting features grotesquely.
"Because we ourselves are God forsaken," Itar pointed out, suddenly bitter, then relented, his eyes on Orn. "But take heart, Orn. The Daha'et believe you to be the true Masterhand. Our time will come. These feeble creatures cannot stop us. We will return to Thamos and conquer."
"But what of Vero, and his allies?" Orn returned grimly. " I need a powerful army! I need control of the Conclave. Vero must not return to Thamos. He must not be allowed to defeat us. We must stop him! Perhaps it is a good thing he came."

FORTY ONE

The sea rolled out, vast and fathomless before the weary travelers, the crashing waves and salty aromatic breeze that sprinkled them with moisture, a tonic to the soul. Sea birds scolded them loudly before diving into the depth of the waves to hunt. The water lapped the beach, kissing their toes as if in adoration. They stood on an empty beach, not far from the village of Portmouth but far enough not to be registered by the guardian dragon's roving eye. They had seen him in the distance, a large red, and took the warning they had received from Celinder to heart.
It was mid day under a sky as tumultuous as the sea. Their bellies growled hungrily. Taoe patted his dejectedly. "Well, Rhan looks like ya finally managed to rid me of my girth."
The Da’liesh smiled at his friend's melancholy tone. "Hardly, but don't worry, Taoe. It won't take you long to have it back and think of the fun you'll have doing so."
The warrior grinned.
Ahlisha's eyes, dull with worry and fatigue, sought out Rhan's. "Is this Wellman's Bay? Nothing’s happening. I don't know what to do. Do I sing now or will they just come?"
"Relax, Ahlisha, first we go to Eru, and for that the dolphins should just come, if I understood Thasa correctly. We'll eat and rest. You're tired, hungry. Come away from the beach. There's a small cave over there in the cliff wall. We'll be out from under the sky and away from the sea spray."
Ahlisha raised her face to the sea. "I like the spray and the smell." But a fuming gust nearly send her sprawling so she followed her companions.
"You were right, Rhan," she announced happily after a cup of ale accompanied by hard cheese and dried meat, her toes stretched by a cosy fire.
"Tell me, what's known of Eru, or the Duhall's?" Vero finally asked.
Rhan shrugged uneasily. "Not much. There's little travel between Ourshare and Eru. No common trade port. Trade with those from across is performed by few and only minimally. More's done with Khane, and word from there...is not pleasant. They live much differently than we do."
Vero nodded unsure if he was glad he'd asked or not.
"Let's try again now," Ahlisha demanded with a stretch.
Rhan's face was lined with shadows, ageing it in a moment’s time. He scratched nervously at his beard, hating the way it had grown across the shaped gap. "Let's wait - tomorrow." He attempted a jovial, carefree tone.
His companions stared at him as if he was insane. "What?" Vero demanded.
"Tomorrow!"
"Why?" Ahlisha asked curiously, checking her anger.
"Because, I say so!"
Ahlisha's sudden giggle was slightly hysterical. "I've only ever heard my parents say that, and I didn't like it then. I say now." She jumped up and darted through the cave's entrance, racing for the sea before her companions even registered her departure.
"Ahlisha wait!" Rhan called after her, fear sticking his throat closed.
Vero understood. The Masterhand laid his hand on Rhan's shoulder. "It must be done, Wizard. Have faith in your Gods and Ahlisha."
Rhan whirled toward him, gripping his tunic in large, strong hands, giving him a shake. "You know she'll die. That's what you won't tell us! She'll perish holding those damned souls. I don't want to go to Eru! I don't want the stone!"
Taoe gasped and Finnuala sat down with a thump.
"I'm not sure.. maybe," Vero, choking the words, finally admitted. "Do your part, Thoughtmaster. Don't let her down. What's one against the deaths of many?" It sounded hollow even to his ears.
"It is the deaths of many to a grieving heart." Dropping his hands, Rhan turned and ran after Ahlisha, who stood staring at the rolling waves. The time had come too soon.
Vero watched him through eyes swimming in tears. Now it was out, freed from his heart. The Truth, after a fashion. He was, after all, not positive she would die.
"Oh, Rhan," she breathed when he arrived. "I know now. I do have to sing for them to come." She began to sing in a deep, unfeminine bass as beautiful and haunting as a cello.
Her companions could only watch in awe as streamline dolphins swam in close, through the shallowest of water, and lay still at her feet.
Ahlisha stopped singing and tilted her head to the side as though listening to those who joined her in the rolling water. "They wish us to board, but first, Rhan, you must place a ward of air or we’ll drown."
Rhan nodded and stepped forward, sighing inwardly that it was all happening so fast-- too fast. Tracing the eye and calling the power, he began to weave his hands in circular swings that encompassed his companions. Holding out a trembling hand toward the dolphins, he bid them to choose a mount. He stepped into the water last, cradling Raece in his arms.
They plunged into the cold, soft embrace of the deep water, darkness enveloping them like a warm quilt, and, as Rhan had ordered, they slept within the coverlet of air. It seemed no time had passed when Rhan stepped lightly from the water onto the beach of Eru, his companions weary eyed and close to hand. They were bone dry. The dolphins departed soundlessly.
Rhan warily hailed the man who stood watching them and the departing dolphins in stunned fascination. "We seek the Duhall clan," he called in trade.
"Your clothes-- they be dry. Tis not possible."
"I am Da’liesh and these are my companions."
The man's eyes opened wide as he beheld Ahlisha. Tangmere were a rare and valuable prize in Eru if they could be taken.
"Are you Duhall?"
"I am, what is it you'll be awantin' with my kith?"
"We need to speak with the leader of your clan. I cannot discuss our business with any but he."
The man studied them, particularly Ahlisha and Raece then hesitantly held out a club like hand in Eru greeting. "I am Tham Ac'Duahll. I will take you to my father, Clan Elder of the Duhall."
"Thank you, Tham." Rhan said as he gripped the man's hand, wondering at this strange greeting he had only heard about. Tham pumped his arm up and down, then turned to lead the way.
Departing the beach, they studied the sparsely green, rocky landscape that surrounded them - lovely yet raw and barren. Tham moved at good speed across the moor toward an outcrop of buildings in the distance, leaving them little time to ponder this strange land. The air that danced about them was cool yet humid, drifting in from the ocean. The sun was nowhere to be seen though a soft light lit the sky. Rhan wondered what the Duhall’s made of such a sight since they did not know of the Daha'et.
As they neared the buildings, Rhan found the village to be fashioned from sturdy rock and mud walled homes. The land surrounding it was littered with cattle and sheep, though the grass, on closer inspection, appeared dry, holding little nutrition for such beasts. Dogs rushed forward to greet them, falling away at Tham's stern rebuke. They eyed the strangers with lolling tongues and wary eyes. Raece was met with growls and yips he majestically ignored. Rhan glanced at him and wondered, not for the first time, if he was truly a dog.
Tham halted them in front of a rounded hut, soft curls of smoke wafting from its chimney, and pulled aside the thick skin that served as a door. He called to his father in his own harsh tongue, speaking quickly while gesturing toward those he had brought home.
The older man came forward, hand outstretched. "Duhai Ac'Duhall. And you be?"
Rhan openly studied father and son when the man came forward. Both were tall in stature with long, unruly red hair drawn back and tied with leather. Bushy, flaming beards hid their mouths and green eyes glittered dangerously. Both appeared strong limbed with rough callused, grimy hands that worked the land, and they wore the skins of their slaughtered beasts still bearing the wool or hair. He could see no weapons but that did not mean they were not readily available. Suddenly, inexplicably, Rhan did not trust them.
He addressed Duhai loudly, tearing the man's heated gaze from Ahlisha. "I am Rhan of Waterside, Da’liesh and this is Ahlisha Tangmere'al, Vero Ap'alean, Finnuala of Lahile a Healer, and Taoe of Waterside our Warrior. We are seeking guidance to Mount Horne."
The gentle swell of mountains could been seen in the distance like a stage backdrop to a play. Small and rounded, they appeared inviting rather than daunting. Rhan wondered why the Ghenosh had chosen such a place to hide their precious stone.
Duhai nodded as though Rhan had confirmed something for him, then spoke rapidly to his son, who ran off quickly. Vero had not been able to follow their crude language and that worried him. Duhai gestured them into his home. Though sparsely furnished it was warm and comfortable, spread over, Rhan was pleased to find, a carpet of thick grass.
A wide, carrot haired woman lumbered forward from the recess of the building, which was deeper than Rhan had imagined, carrying drinks and food. "Eat, drink. We will wait for Sha. She is Seer of the Duhall."
Rhan opened his mouth, but Duhai waved him to silence. "She will answer your questions."
Rhan watched his host while he ate and drank, seemingly carefree, but he could sense a tenseness about the man whose eyes constantly strayed to Ahlisha. The girl, uncomfortable, had certainly noticed. She edged her chair closer to Rhan.
"Ah, Sha," Duhai stood as a thin, elderly woman, hair sparse and white, eyes bulging, entered the room. "We have guests who seek passage to the Horne."
She stared at the group, studying each in turn, then spoke in a thick, gravely voice strangled with phlegm. "Tell Sha of your need. Why should we take you to the Horne where the great secret is buried and guarded?"
Rhan raised his heavy brows at Vero. "Do you know of the great secret? What it is?"
"That I do not, but it has always been since the Duhall's began and none go to the Horne. What is your tale, and be it the truth now?"
Rhan, sensing a lie, hesitated a moment before he pulled the dream shard from his pack and began to tell the story of the Daha'et. He watched their disbelieving faces with a sinking heart. Tham seemed to jerk about in his chair, unable to contain himself. When Rhan came to Vero’s part, the Masterhand gripped his leg painfully tight beneath the table. Rhan closed his mouth and did not speak of the outsider's true identity. His pause had the three Duhall's eyeing him even more warily.
"Ourshare is in grave danger, as is Eru, the whole of Dlrow, if we cannot stop these creatures. Will you aid us? Lead us to the Horne? It is her secret that we seek. Perhaps you could even send aid back to Ourshare, and spread the word this side of Dlrow." He watched their expressions with panic. "Why do you think the sun has disappeared, and your grasslands die?" He asked in desperation.
"Yes," Sha spoke softly, "why is that? Let us speak, alone, Outsiders. We will call when we wish your return."
Rhan sighed. Here, they were all outsiders.
"They lie, led by the one of the evil mismatched eyes. It is as I feared. They have come to kill the guardian and steal the stone-- soul of Dlrow. If they take it, the land will die. If they kill the guardian, the rain will not come. We must stop them. We will offer them to the guardian in trust. The Tangmere we will save for the equinox festival. She will be a powerful offering. They, not these Daha'et, are why the land is changing, dying. They try to trick us with their barbaric powers. The guardian and the stone have sensed their threat and are punishing us for doing nothing of it. They want the gem for themselves! Make sure you take and dispose of that horrid little creature they call Kesh as well."
"How will we defeat them, Sha? One is Da’liesh. He has the power, barbaric or not."
"Drug them with the hoary vine, as we have always done. Then tie his left arm behind his back. I have heard this will stop him from using his power. The girl we will keep here, and the others will be too slow and weak to battle the guardian. It has been long since she has had an offering. Perhaps her anger is behind the changes in the land. We will appease her. Go, tell them we will lead them to the Horne on the 'morrow. I will return shortly with the drink. Tell them it is a toast of our binding." Duhai and Tham nodded and stepped out to reclaim their visitors while Sha hurried out the back door to her own home.
"Where’s Sha gone?" Taoe asked suspiciously when they returned to the table.
"She has stepped out to retrieve the drink we keep to toast a binding. We will be leadin' you to the Horne. But, we will not spread your word or aid Ourshare. Tis not our place for such. This will be our aid."
Rhan nodded. "It is accepted and welcomed."
Raece growled softly as Tham pulled his chair next to Ahlisha. "Tell me of the Tangmere. Tis only tales I've been hearin'."
Raece pushed his body between the two, spreading the chairs, and ducked, but did not move when Tham smacked him between the ears.
Ahlisha's eye's grew cold, her face hard. "You will not touch Raece. He is the healer's eyes."
Tham shrugged and stared, unimpressed, at the white eyed healer for a moment.
"Can she really heal?"
"She can." Ahlisha continued to pet Raece, her touch firm and tense. The dog did not move.
"So, tell me,"
"There is little to tell." Her voice, cool, unfriendly, came from afar as she turned toward the elderly Seer, who had returned. Tham cursed, then rose to take the heavy tray from Sha.
Duhai waved away his wife, who hovered in the background. "Be gone, woman. I'll call if I'll be needin' ya."
Ahlisha and Finnuala tightened their lips into grim lines at Duhai's treatment of his wife. "Come, join us won't you?" Ahlisha suddenly called out to the woman's retreating back. Her hunched shoulders tensed in surprise, but she continued to shuffle to the back of the hut.
Duhai stood up. "Know your place, girl. I have already told her she's not wanted at this table."
Ahlisha stood and faced the much larger man. "And why is that?"
"Ahlisha," Rhan warned from her side, his eyes on Taoe's hand as the warrior made to pull his sword.
Duhai stared at her hard then burst into laugher. Slapping the table he sat down. "Well now, she's a feisty one, is she not, Tham?" The young man nodded eagerly.
"Tis our ways, girl," Duhai growled, his anger returned, "and you'll not be changin' em. Now have a drink, to bind our agreement."
Rhan thought his smile looked more like a threat. Even the black dragons could not smile so beguilingly.
The companions stared at the passing tray with distrust. "Go ahead, take your pick. They're all the same," Duhai encouraged.
"That's what I'm afraid of," Rhan muttered. "It's our custom that the host takes his drink first."
Duhai's green eyes hardened. "Is that so? I've not heard that before."
Rhan shrugged. The older man laughed again and pulled a drink from the tray, taking a long draught, his body well immune to the effects of the drug. "Now, will ya join me?"

FORTY TWO

When Rhan awoke, he felt as though he had been dragged by a horse through a pine forest, and his mouth was full of cotton. "Where are we?" He asked of any who could answer while he tried to straighten his bound arms. "Damn!"
"Rhan, what happened?" Taoe's hail seemed to come from far away.
"I don't know," Rhan tried to form enough spit to lick his dry lips but could not. Rolling over toward Taoe's voice, he found himself lying in his own vomit. "Ah!"
"What?"
"Never mind. Where in the all the forest is Vero?"
"Here." A thick, strangled croak came out of the darkness. "Where are we?"
"Lying on rocks," Finnuala managed as she tried to nudge Raece to wakefulness. "The Horne?"
"I'd say…..where's Ahlisha?"
"Ahlisha?" Finnuala cried out.
Nothing, no answer. Rhan tried to untie his arms. "Damn! Are you bound as well?" His companions agreed that they were, but for Raece. The dog was shaking his head groggily. "We still seem to have our weapons though." Rhan added uneasily.
"Why would they do this?" Vero asked.
"They wanted Ahlisha, that much was obvious. Lka's gone too," Rhan answered his tone taut, angry.
Taoe surprised them with his observation. "But, I thought the Ghenosh said no one knew of the stone? Yet the Duhall's know of, what'd they call it, the great secret...and it's guardian. It must be one in the same. Maybe they, the Ghenosh lied or, for some reason the Duhall's do not want us to take the stone, and the Ghenosh do not even know that the clansmen know of it."
"You’re right. They do not want you to take their precious stone," the answer was growled into the dark of the cavern. "You've been drugged like all the others, left your weapons to make it more sporting for me when you awake. And the Ghenosh do not know. They do not follow the world the way the used to, the way they should. Their time draws near."
"What others?" Taoe demanded. "Who are you? Show yourself."
"I, am Hora, guardian of the stone which you have come to steal, and I will show myself when, and if, I choose."
Rhan shook his head. "We do not wish to steal the stone, Hora. The Ghenosh sent us. It is needed in the world."
"That is what I was told you would say." She walked over and pawed at Finnuala, sighing mournfully. As she loomed over the healer, Rhan could make out the immense size of the beast, whose silver skin sagged with age.
"A silver back dragon, only immortal of all races," Rhan breathed. "I thought you all killed during the Age of Might."
She released stale breath in another sigh. "I was placed here long before the Age of Might, Human, and am the last of my breed. Unlike the fascinating tales of my kind, I am not immortal, only long lived.
"I am not a Master," she continued, her voice throaty and laden with sorrow. "I tell them time and time again, ever since one accidentally stumbled on me and my charge. Why do they send me drugged meat that I am to kill? I wish only to go home, back to the Silverwings."
"Hora, we speak the truth regarding the need of the land. I am sorry about the Duhall's but, if you give us the stone you are free, free to return home."
"Alone," she lamented.
"I cannot help that. What have you done with the others they sent?"
"Killed them. What else am I to do? If I do not they will come in droves and perhaps take that which is my charge. I am getting too old for this."
Rhan shuddered as her head snaked down toward him. "Yet you would have me allow you to live, to give you Gomya Dura. Give me just reason."
Rhan, aware of a softening in the beast, began their tale, without benefit of the dream shard which remained in his pack. He told Hora of the horrors of the land. Of the rogue reds, greens and blacks, and finally of the Daha'et. "Perhaps," he commented at the end, "you could join the Assembly."
She studied him silently, her amber dragon's eyes well able to pierce the darkness. "Are you truly a healer?" she asked Finnuala.
"Yes." The woman spoke up boldly, despite her great fear.
"I have a wound, inflicted some time ago, by one of the presents the Duhall sent me. Can you heal it?"
"I can try but my hands must be unbound." The dragon's long snout moved to Finnuala and tugged at her bindings. Soon, she was free. "Raece, can you stand?" she asked, reaching out to the dog.
He climbed to his feet and, wobbling slightly, led Finnuala through the dark that she could not see to the dragon.
"It is on my hind quarter, an embedded spear shaft."
The dog sniffed around the area then barked, nosing Finnuala's hands into place. The dragon groaned in relief when the fiery needle was freed, the burning ceased, and the festering wound closed.
"You have brought me great relief. I have done my duty well for age upon age, now it is time for me to release my charge to another. Take the stone. I believe you. My heart tells me it is right. Bring peace to Dlrow, then, promise me you’ll destroy it as the Ghenosh should have long ago."
"It is a promise I have already made, Hora. Thank you. Where is the stone?"
"Here." The dragon shifted her massive body, displaying the small, rounded, white stone encased in a clear, hard, covering, like the yolk of an egg. It looked drab and boring. "Take it."
"Where will you go?"
"Home---then, perhaps, I will visit the Assembly."
"Your name will be sung in honor. May your wings carry you far and true."
"May your feet find firm ground, Human, and the True One hear your prayers. Farewell," she called as she stepped from the cavern and took to the sky.
Once Finnuala released them, Rhan scooped up the stone and placed it carefully in a pouch. "Now, Ahlisha!"
There was no way to hide from prying eyes, so they simply marched openly into the village whose inhabitants departed at their approach. They stopped before Duhai's abode. "Come out, Duhai Ac'Duhall. I would have a word," Rhan called.
Inside, the panicked man tried to muffle Ahlisha's cries for help. Tham, who had decided to keep the Kesh, despite Sha’s orders, shook the cage roughly when Lka glowed fiercely, chattering in a high, fierce cry. Composing himself, Duhai opened the curtain and stepped out. "Back so soon? Did ya get what ya need?" Rhawan’s piercing cry from behind him nearly caused the man’s bowel’s to let loose. Another prize he’d wished to keep.
"Oh we did indeed, Duhai. The secret is ours and the Guardian is fled."
Sha, who had come up behind them, dropped to the ground wailing, her keening voice a beacon to all her kith, who soon joined her.
"There is no need for this," Rhan shouted as the men took up their spears, while the woman keened. "The stone and the Guardian are not Masters. You must turn your prayers to the Wakhanee, whom we serve and go to protect. They are the Masters of Dlrow under the care of the True One. The Daha'et are the reason for your misfortunes. I give you my word."
"You word is not good enough!" Tham cried as he sprang forward, his spear aimed at Rhan's heart. While Rhan called his power, Taoe easily parried the clumsily driven spear with the flat side of his sword and knocked it harmlessly to the ground.
At a wave from Duhai, the Duhall men came forward, enmasse, only to meet the wall that Rhan’s spell had erected. "I will not kill you. Bring out Ahlisha and Lka and we will take the stone and our leave---Quit you to your fate."
Unable to pierce the shielding wall, Duhai backed into his home and brought out the two prisoners, a knife to Ahlisha's throat. "I will surely kill her if you do not drop your shield."
"Don't do it, Rhan. Take the stone and go," Ahlisha pleaded.
Rhan's eyes first teared, then hardened so quickly, Duhai was unsure if what he had witnessed was real, but he was certain the Da’liesh would do anything for Ahlisha and fear knotted his heart.
In the moment that Rhan dropped his shield, chaos erupted in the form of a thick fog, which enveloped and blinded them all. The companions, able to see in the murk since Rhan had cast a covering over them, shot forward. Taoe took Duhai out with a sharp thrust, while Rhan grabbed Ahlisha, their packs, Rhawan, and Lka. Vero gripped Finnuala's arm, propelling her forward with Raece at his heels, fleeing toward the sea.
"Sing," Rhan yelped when they hit the icy water, the fog trailing them like a shadow. "I can’t erect another shield. I’m too weak to sustain it. The damn drug still lingers in my body. I need my remaining power to fight if they catch us here, and to ward us with air."
Ahlisha began to sing, in a deep, trembling, husky voice. Soon the dolphins appeared. "Thank you," she whispered softly as they lay prostrate before her in the shallow water. Raece lay across Rhan’s lap as he had done on the journey over, his sides heaving in panic as they plunged under the frigid water, its crushing force deafening them to the sounds of the enraged Duhall's above. Taoe’s falcon uttered one panicked cry before it disappeared beneath the waves.
Standing with her companions at Wellman's Bay, tired and shaken but alive, Ahlisha faced the soft brown eyes of the dophins before her and began to sing softly. Rhan, his heart pounding, realized the words were very different.
Tranquil, hazy saffron lights began to appear, hovering over the dolphins as Lka's high chattering voice joined Ahlisha's, hauntingly pitched to her bass. The round beams floated slowly, hesitantly toward Ahlisha, whose outstretched arms lovingly gathered them in. The dolphins watched in anguished silence, but did not challenge the decision of their wards. Not all had chosen to leave.
Ahlisha cried out in agony as the souls passed through her body, but her song, sung in her own tongue, did not waver. Rhan could only make out some of the eerie melody.
"Come, come souls, to me,
cast aside your endless sleep,
gather to my call, heed your land,
return to the living, balm of the deep."
Dropping to her knees as the lines of the song left her, she gazed up at Rhan, her eyes like windows to another plane. Dozens peered out, glimpsing life once more through the glowing orbs. "It is done."
Rhan staring into her eyes, caught like a fly in honey, wondered fearfully if, when the time came, they would release her, their precious hold on life.
Rhan knelt in the sand beside her, his relief that she had survived enormous. He thanked the Wakhanee that at least her voice was normal. He could not, however, look again into the glowing eyes, at the empty hungriness that lurked beneath their golden brilliance.
Finnuala's staring eyes sought them out. "Ahlisha! Fingal! Is she all right?"
"She, is fine." Rising languidly, Ahlisha hugged the healer, feeling the tension leave the woman as she wrapped her arms around her and led Finnuala back to the warmth of the cavern. The wind had turned cruel and whipped salt and sand about like projectile weapons. The sky glared at them through a purple haze. A storm was coming.
Ahlisha stopped mid stride within the entrance, speaking in a low intense voice. "We should enter the village tonight while the dragon sleeps and can't fly. The Wavecrest heads north."
Rhan stared a moment before replying. "Yes, its faster by ship. The Wavecrest will head for the northern spice hills. From there we can travel on foot or pony to the Dragonshoard, if, that is, we want the dragons to lead us to the Wakhanee. Thasa said we must get to the Wakhanee by way of the dragon so, I see no alternative. It’s said, and my father had purported, only the Assembly holds the key to the Masters in Dragonshoard." Rhan had known for some time this day would come as understanding of his dream came slowly to him.
"Will they help us?"
"I don’t know, Vero. They might not believe us, what we're about, 'till they see the dream crystal. You heard Celinder. The Assembly's a mess. Who knows what we'll find between the infighting and the rogues? Anyway, the Wakhanee lie that path, so it must be ours whether the dragons aid or guide us or not."
"Won't we need the permission of the Vhari'ni to pass through the Dragonshoard mountains?"
Rhan smiled grimly. "Spice - they love spice. We can purchase some on the way."
"What are the Vhari’ni like? I think I asked before or someone mentioned it, but...part of the Elder race too, right?" Vero asked of no one in particular while they packed up their gear.
Taoe scratched at a nearly healed sting agitated by the salt air. "They are master smiths. They own and run the gold mines. Short, stocky, men with little hair. You know," he added curiously, "only one female is born to them every thirty years or so, and that's for breeding, like an insect or something. Strange."
"I didn't know that," Ahlisha confided, astounded. "Imagine….no women."
"I, for one, don't want to imagine it," Taoe declared with a mock shudder, and an infectious grin, though he avoided her eye.
"Couldn't they lead us to the Wakhanee? I'm a little...wary of these dragons," Vero admitted. "Though I admire Celinder greatly."
"No, the dragons were, or so my father says, the Wakhanee's protectors at one time. If any know the way, they will. It's why the dream showed them and the Ghenosh mentioned them. I'm sure of it. The Vhari'ni take little interest in any but those they can adequately trade with. I'm certain most of the Assembly is trustworthy." He sounded far from it.
Vero eyed Rhan dubiously but did not speak, thinking the dream had exhibited only one dragon, in particular. The Ghenosh had actually said, by way of the dragon. How would they know which one it was to be? Perhaps, Vero thought, the Wakhanee reasoned the dragons could help, but they couldn’t, or wouldn’t.
They arrived outside the village at dusk and hid among a small copse of oaks. As with the farmland they had crossed, here the land appeared withered in one spot and lush in another. The weather continued its furious assault, raging from one extreme to another. The sun remained hidden, the moon likewise nowhere to be found, leaving the dusk sky as gray and empty as a chalkboard slate with no words. The whooshing of wings forced them to dive deeper for cover. A large red dragon had landed near by.
"Damn weather….send me out here to nowhere. Onhyx--- who died and made him Master? I'd be more valuable to the Daha'et than him. That's probably why I'm here. The fiend," he muttered as he coiled into a discontented ball and fell asleep.
The companions, Taoe carrying Finnuala so she didn't make any noise, walked carefully around to the village docks. Leaving the others behind, Taoe and Rhan passed into a public house, relieved to hear the bell jangle and feel the spit fly. They planned to find out from the locals if the Wavecrest did indeed sail north.
Rhan received many a cold stare from the locals, who wondered who and what he supported, but the Innkeeper served them easily and without question. They listened unobtrusively, soon forgotten by the voices which grumbled around them. Rhan felt his fists unconsciously tighten in anger when the village men spoke of the Shadowwraiths who had come earlier that day, led by a Daha'et called Sham. They had taken several men and two young children away under the protection of the big red that patroled the skies.
Sham.... Rhan’s heart shriveled into a tight ball and he felt himself fight momentarily for air.
Another group near them spoke bitterly of the grain ship, Wavecrest, being the only steamer allowed to leave the port, heading north. Well others spoke of ways to kill the dragon that watched them, though they knew it was futile. If they succeeded, as one grizzled seaman pointed out, another would come, only next time, it might be two.
By Dawn, the companions were settled on the steamer bearing north to drop its load of grain and wood and gather spice to bring south. They would disembark in Quayside. It would be a long journey locked in the grain hold of the large steamer, but safer and faster than land, Rhan surmised. He had plenty of time now to think about what he would do to Sham if he came across him, Daha'et or no.

FORTY THREE

"Damn!" Rhan shouted over the cries of panic that clawed under the edge of the trapdoor over his head and the groaning of the ship as it rocked and rolled among the massive waves that battered its hull. "I'll have to go up."
He emerged, warily, only to find himself standing directly before the wet, fierce looking, elderly captain, who nearly sobbed at the sight of the Da’liesh. "Praise the Masters," he cried. "I'm Lebsha, captain of the Wavecrest. But where did you come from?"
"Make sure those Masters are the Wakhanee you praise. I came from the hold. We're stowaways but ones that want to live."
The man nodded curtly. "I'll pray to whoever you say, just use your powers to guide us away from shore or we will surely be smashed upon the rocks!" He pointed grimly toward the towering cliffs at dozens of protruding spike tipped rocks that jutted out over the thundering sea.
Rhan clutched his staff and pointed it at the bellowing sky, whose raging winds tossed the waves about like leaves in a pond. Roaring out his charm over the crash of waves, he was soon repaid with calm. The captain gripped his hand warmly. "No one will ever know you were here."
"Thanks, but I don't think we're finished," Rhan announced grimly.
"My God," Vero, his face already green from the rocking boat, moaned. Rhan sank soundlessly to the ground behind him as eerie, haunting wails rode the heavy sea air.
"Hard astern!" The Captain shouted into the chaos, his men weeping and wailing around him, many falling to their knees. The helmsman clung to the wheel with a white knuckled death grip, his eyes filled with terror, unable to heed his captain's command.
"The dead, they come!" Lebsha, white with fear, dropped to the deck along with his crewman, spitting and praying for the dead, who ran the waves unfettered and unable to gain access to the dolphins bodies, yet freed by Soulstealer. They rarely visited the living, content to swim their watery grave--- A bad omen to the crew of the Wavecrest, one believed to bring death to those who witnessed them beneath the transparent waves.
"Beware, Da’liesh," they wailed in unison, haunting, undulating like the swelling waves. Rhan crawled on his knees to the edge of the boat and heaved himself up to peer over at the translucent forms, which flitted beneath the crests, their pale faces and staring eyes freezing him in place. He began to weave a ward so that they could not claim him. Then, as no man had dared, he stared deep in into their eyes and listened.
"Hurry, you must flee, like the wind," they called. "Hurry, time is running out for all. Soon the Wakhanee will not be able to reclaim the land and our brethren will not be freed. All will join us here. Trust only her of the green wing who comes to you. Follow the dream. Our brethren have called and we have hailed. Farewell." Their ghostly voices faded as they drifted away. Rhan sank back to his knees.
Ahlisha pulled Finnuala, who had been knocked over by a falling crewman, up, then joined Raece, who bounded ahead, whining over Rhan. "Mch'Raash!" Finnuala gasped as she began to lay her hands. "I must move quickly or he will die."
"How - he did nothing," Vero yelped.
"Nothing! Nothing!" Her voice was shrill. "He fought to listen to them and survive the staring eyes of the dead."
Rhan, though healed, slept for the rest of the day while the captain guided them smoothly along the remainder of their course. They joined him late the following evening in Lebsha's quarters for a lavish meal.
"This is my last journey we celebrate, " the grizzled old man announced with feeling. "I'm retiring. Between the damned Daha'et and the crazy weather, and finally spirits, well, it's finished this old sea dog!'
The others smiled and raised their glasses in toast. "Understandable but no doubt it's been a long and noble career." Rhan, rested and freed from his fatigue, grinned widely at the captain. Ahlisha’s heart skipped a beat.
"And you won’t mention seeing us?" Vero asked.
The captain nodded, surveying his guests slyly with bloodshot, rhuemy eyes. "I'd been told to keep an eye out for you, but I wouldna' told 'em even if I'd known you were on my boat." His filmy eyes turned shrewd. "You said you want me to pray to the Wakhanee?"
"We do," Rhan admitted, "but it's better if I don't tell you all." He didn't feel there was any need for the old man to know or see the shard. It would only endanger his life. They were so close to the Daha’et now they didn’t want to do anything to draw attention to themselves.
Lebsha, curious but trusting, shrugged. "If it'll help defeat these Daha'et then I'm all for it."
When the meal ended and they stood ready to depart, Lebsha grasped Ahlisha's hands, his calluses nearly rubbing them raw. "Oh my dear, it is so nice to have you here. Tangmere are always welcome in Quayside. We once had a Tangmereian Wisewoman. She was a great friend of mine." He looked shyly into her eyes, unable to see clearly what so disturbed the others.
Ahlisha grinned, her cheeks dimpling becomingly, and squeezed Lebsha's hands tightly. "Thank you."
Vero, watching Rhan, observing his silly jealousies, sighed.
Rhan might have changed in some ways but in others he’d grown worse. Taoe would never tell him it was fear of his jealousies that closed Sesha’s lips to him. Jilley had told him what Sesha had been unable to tell Rhan and now she was gone.
******
They arrived at Quayside a full two days later, well rested and comfortable, freed it seemed, from the troubles of the world for those few hours. The captain bade them to stay on board until dark. He wouldn't be unloading until the following morn. Then, they were to follow the map he had skilfully drawn, directing them to his home, where they could stay as long as they liked.
Once night had well fallen, cool and breezy, they headed out under the returned moon's somber glow, the stars that usually kept him company nowhere in sight. Rhan walked down the empty village streets by Ahlisha's side, trying to think of something to say. She was not herself, withdrawn, always seeming to be listening within. It was eerie. Rhan ached for her and the souls she caged.
"My, my, Rhan, it is you." The soft hail slithered across the cool night air, freezing them all.
The Da’liesh turned to face the speaker across the dark expanse of the road. "Sham?" His mind whirled with the images he had concocted of how he would deal with his renegade friend if he caught him, but in his heart he knew he could do nothing.
"It's I."
"Show yourself. I've been told ugly tales about you, my friend."
Sham chuckled softly. "And they'll all be true. Have no fear, Rhan. I will not kill you or those you travel with. I simply wanted to find out if it was indeed you who aided the Masterhand. I thought it might be."
"Why?" Rhan's questioning voice was anguished.
Sham shrugged, his actions disguised by the dark. He knew what Rhan was asking. "Why not? It's so like you to join the side of good," he returned nastily. "I have more power now than I've ever held, and I can leave this place, return to Thamos with the Daha'et when they are ready to depart, usurp this upstart that you travel with. I am strong, Rhan, powerful, and I will sit among the rulers of Thamos and Dlrow. Join us, Rhan. You have nothing else. Why do you protect these fools who care little for you or your sacrifices for them? Most of them treated us like dirt even when we fought for them. They don't trust us. We're different, special."
Rhan's fists tightened at his side. He tried desperately to control his rage and hurt. "Because this is my home and these are my people and the Wakhanee are my Masters. Our specialness is a gift from them."
Sham chortled coldly again. "You are so pathetic. Go, go on your humble way but be warned, life here as you know it is at an end, and when we depart there will be little left. Masterhand, I feel you there, shrouded by the dark. Do not think you will return home to rule Thamos."
"If you think Orn will succeed, you are mistaken. Even if I fail there are many left to fight my brother, and fight they will." For they wish neither of us to return, he thought sadly.
"And where are they now?" Sham asked his sneer apparent even without being seen, not understanding, as Orn did not, the full truth of the matter. "It is only you against us."
Taoe growled and drew his sword. It gleamed brightly under the moon's glow and Lka's pale, trembling light. "Don't even think about it, Warrior. You will be dead where you stand. Tell me, Rhan, what is your plan? Do you honestly think you can defeat the Daha'et? Just you and this motley crew. Unlikely don't you think?" Sham chuckled.
"No, Sham, I don't," Rhan said with heavy sadness, "and I pity you your choice. May Soulstealer have mercy on your soul, wherever it might be."
Rhan could feel Sham's stiff, insulted anger from where he stood. "I still own my soul, Da’liesh, and many others yet linger with life within me. Do not foul my choices with your misconstrued notions. When your soul parts from your body, mine will yet be within me, wise and living."
"And black," Rhan murmured.
Sham chuckled. "Yes and black. May you travel the road of light wisely, Rhan," Sham called, chuckling once more, as his voice disappeared into the night, then suddenly returned. "Be warned, Rhan, my brother. If you move against the Daha'et I will kill you."
"How dare you call me brother. You have lost that right! How can you do this, Sham? The Masters gave you this gift and now you use it against them." Despair overwhelmed him and he could not go on. Sham, did not answer.
The others waited silently for Rhan to move or speak. "Let's go," he finally managed to choke out while his companions stood about awkwardly shuffling their feet. He lifted the map with trembling hands to Lka's cage and checked it once more before leading them east along a narrow road flanked by sod and wooden buildings.
The captain answered quickly on Rhan's first soft knock at his ramshackle door. They stepped into the small home with lightened hearts, glad to be free of the road for another night and any reminders of their encounter with Sham.
The Captain’s home was brightly lit by an unusually large, chattering Kesh, who greeted Lka with intense enthusiasm, and a few candle lamps that softly displayed rickety well used furniture and a colorful decor. The floor, Rhan noted with some dismay, was planked. He desperately missed the soft grass of his own home.
A well rounded, petite, elderly woman shuffled through from the kitchen to greet them. "Come. I’m Cehia, eat, drink. We welcome you." Her awe filled eyes lingered on Ahlisha who was the first Tangmere to grace her door since the elderly Wisewoman had passed on.
They held only enrapture, however, none of the prejudice Ahlisha had faced in the South. Her heart bounced, and she knew Lebsha had spoken the truth. She hoped her mother could one day visit this place.
Over a crude but tasty meal, they talked quietly of the problems at sea facing villages. The companions reconfirmed that indeed all the ports were now guarded by one or two rogue dragons and that the Assembly truly was in trouble.
Many villagers and villages had endured the same horror as Spray. Their homes were destroyed by dragons when refusing to hand over payment to the Daha'et, their people killed. Others had been slaughtered by mercenaries, Daha'et, rogue warriors or wraiths. Many had just been taken. People, especially children, were disappearing at an alarming rate. The land was in a dismal state, hot, as it was in Quayside, to freezing as in Eldercity.
The weather changed from moment to moment, and the sky, the old seaman sighed, as he lamented, well the sky could not be described. Cattle and grain stores were diminishing and not being replaced due to the disruption of the steamers and trade routes, with autumn and winter, if they came, still looming ahead. He stopped, at a loss, at that point. Even the seasons could no longer be spoken of with any conviction.
Lebsha turned to Rhan. "How can you help us?"
"It's best if I don't say, Captain. The less you know of us the better, but have faith in the Wakhanee and pray for us and our journey. Tell me, can we buy ponies here?"
"Not here in the village. You'll have to go into the city."
Rhan nodded. "I suppose we can alter our plans slightly and buy our spice at the city market?"
Lebsha sucked on the pipe he had lit and nodded. "Course, guess you..ah.. can't tell me what you want the spices for?"
"Lebsha," his wife admonished, "the young man’s already told you he can't."
Young man. Rhan grinned. "You're right but you've done more for us on this night than you could imagine. Just remember to pray to the Wakhanee. Spread their word."
"Well," Cehia, Lebsha's wife, smiled brightly, "we're more than pleased to do both."
"You will be leavin' in the mornin' then?"
"First thing."
"Well then, its time for a song. Mother, get my mouth organ. We're gonna sing."
Ahlisha's eyes opened wide and for the first time in days Rhan saw her smile enthusiastically and really take notice.
Cehia, as awed by the healer as she was by Ahlisha, though she had not given into temptation and plagued the woman with questions and humble requests, had moved Finnuala to a cozy chair near the blazing fire while Raece sprawled at the hearth. The others drew their chairs into a semicircle around Lebsha and the hearth and listened while he sang in a cheerful, harsh, crackling bass, and played out his toe tapping tunes.
Rhan slid his chair near the healer. Leaning close to her ear, he said, "I can't tell you how sorry I am for what I said to you, before."
Finnuala's white eyes turned toward him and he realized that to him she was beautiful in her cool regal way. He wished things had gone differently, that he was not so taciturn and moody. "Perhaps you were right, Rhan. I don't know my own heart but your words no longer matter." Her gentle voice argued with her pained expression.
"They do to me," he returned gruffly. "Tell me, Finnuala, about your family, the mundanities. I need to hear of a time before the Daha'et. Tell me of yourself. You've come to mean so much to me. I want to know you, without you, Ahlisha and I would be dead."
Finnuala suddenly gripped his arm in a weak hold and he knew she was still fatigued from her healing of him. Mch'raash was a powerful force. "Rhan, do you believe she'll survive?"
His eyes frantically sought out Ahlisha but, singing happily along with Lebsha, she had not heard. He was grateful to the old man for this respite. "I don't know," he admitted, distressed, "and Vero will not say."
"Well, whatever my feelings for her, and even I don't understand them, her heart is yours, Da’liesh. Treat it with care."
"I will. I want to. I just...."
He couldn't go on, so Finnuala began to tell him the story of her life; of the parents and brothers who had loved her; of the small northern farming and mining community she had grown up in; her first love, and of her first bitterness over her gift. She told him of the loss of the life she had chosen for herself, and of the loneliness she sometimes could not bear. She was glad to be able to speak of it to someone, at last. She had not wanted to burden Ahlisha with her own pain.

FORTY FOUR

They set out the following morning without fanfare, clean and full, their attention riveted on the dragon who flew inland and out over the sea, watching the few ships that left port.
The heat was nearly unbearable and Ahlisha longed to remove her tunic and breeches, lovingly scrubbed by Cehia. Instead, she settled with rolling up the pants to her knees and sleeves to her elbows, and removing, much to Rhan's dismay, her chain mail. Looking into flickering eyes that peered emptily out of her sweat soaked face, he knew there was no arguing. He left Finnuala to walk at her side, knowing, he, in his weakness, could not bear to do so.
"How far is the city from here?" Vero asked with a whine he tried to suppress.
"A few days." Rhan wiped the sweat from his own brow and cursed the land they crossed for its lack of protection. They were among the spice hills, laden with flowering bush, aromatic spices, and deep lush valleys but no trees, no shade. He led them down the lea of a hill, to a small creek that meandered its way west toward Raven's Eye city. Fat clouds passed in front of the overly large sun, casting spinning shadows that fled too fast from the travelers to offer shelter. Then, they too were gone, and the sky was achingly empty once more.
Taking off their shoes, some chose to walk in the soft bedded creek, allowing the cool, clean water to wash over them. Ahlisha dropped every so often to splash the cool water on her face and chest. Taoe blushed when his eyes strayed to her soaked breasts outlined beneath the tunic. Rhan glared at him, but the warrior could only offer a silly grin. Vero looked the other way, poor Ahlisha seemed so oblivious.
"Stop," she cried, shocking them all into a frozen state. "A dragon. A dragon comes."
Rhan, already calling his power to them in the way of a ward, cursed and raised his eyes to the sky. Onhyx hovered menacingly above them, his black body glistening in the sun, laughing at Rhan's feeble attempt while he oozed his dragon's charm. Vero, remembering what Rhan had told him of the charming blacks, felt fear's cold and crippling grip on his soul, though it was only the weakness of fear of the beast itself, not the charm working on him.
"Run," a sudden screech roused them as Celinder, Fiona's friend and councillor, the small, elderly green, crashed into the larger black.
He roared in a tumultuous rage, turning his attention to her, leaving Rhan free to dig in his staff and call forth his power. A massive fireball slammed into a preoccupied Onhyx but too late. Ahlisha screamed. Celinder fell, crashing to the ground, her throat torn open, her body burned beyond recognition from the fireball she could not escape. She lay as dead, barely breathing.
Finnuala sent up a frantic prayer. Leaning on Raece, she allowed him to guide her to the beast's side.
Onhyx had fallen near Celinder, his burned body writhing in an agony even his executioners could not bear.
"Do something," Vero wailed.
Taoe finished him off by the sword.
Celinder rolled over. "That one deserves no mercy. He's been spying on the Assembly all along, he and Phyron," she spat, "feeding the Daha'et information when it was to be the other way around. We trusted them - snakes!" She roared the insult with hate.
Healed by Finnuala, Celinder still lay on her side, breathing heavily, her long tail dangling in the creek, eyes on Onyx's smouldering corpse. "What are your plans from here?" she asked, when Finnuala moved away. "I want to help you--to help Fiona."
"So, you are the same we saw near the Flovn Wood." She of the green wing. The dead’s haunting words came back to Rhan, his mind racing. The spirits had been speaking of Celinder. It was her in the dream, not the Assembly. The Ghenosh had said, by way of the dragon. Celinder. He glanced around at his companions and nodded at the dawning understanding in their eyes. Vero’s eyes held only relief.
"Yes. I am Celinder."
"We were heading into the city to purchase ponies and spice to pay the Vhari’ni, and perhaps the Assembly so that one of yours could lead us to the Wakhanee, but perhaps we have no need but for horses now and have already found what we require." He eyed her speculatively.
She blinked her large black eyes rapidly. "I can certainly lead you to the mountains and protect you from the Assembly, or those in it who would harm you. I do know how to get into the mines, once there, however. You will still need spice for the Vhari'ni."
She sighed and smacked her tail in the water, splashing them all. "I don't know the passages to the Wakhanee. I am, admittedly, one of the eldest now, but the way has long been forgotten, even by us, their once guardians. I do know, however, that in Raven's Eye City library there are maps crafted by the ancient Wakhanee priests that might lead us. The Assembly provided some of the governing Priests with the information were anything, like this I suppose, to happen. The maps are hidden, I heard as a youngster, in a book describing ancient rituals and beliefs of Ourshare." She shook her head angrily. "It has been many a year since the Assembly has cared for any master."
Rhan shrugged and looked at the others. "Worth a try."
Vero nodded. "Yes, we're running out of time." He heard the echo of the spirits in his voice and shivered. "Your land cannot sustain these changes indefinitely and soon the Daha'et will be ready to...."
"To what?" Taoe narrowed his eyes and tightened his lips.
"Nothing, nothing."
"To go back home, that's it isn't it? Damn Dlrow, you only want to save your own world."
Vero blushed. "That's not true, I…"
"Save it for those who care, Vero," Taoe snapped angrily then turned to the dragon. "Can you travel now?"
"I can, but I'd rather fly out and await you on the other side of the city, away from prying eyes. I’m better off the road to the Vhari'ni. It's not safe for my kin in the city with our brother rogues about."
"Good plan," Rhan agreed. "Please, go ahead, and our thanks to you. May your wings carry you far and true."
"And your feet find firm ground, farewell my friends." The dragon dipped her neck regally to Finnuala before departing.
The land, lush, as was normal in this region when they had started out under the heat, was now withering and dying around them. They could see the telltale signs of serious burn to the crops of spice under the furnace of sky. Rhan prayed there would be no lightening in the near future or the whole area would go up like a tinder box. He looked dispiritedly at the browning spice bushes and grass. Even the insects found it too hot, fluttering listlessly up from the shaded ground with each of Finnuala's and Raece's steps as they chose to walk on land rather than through the creek. Tiny, colorful birds, flitted from plant to plant, searching for protection from the sun's torturous rays, though it could barely be seen on the horizon, it hung so low, still too large. Taoe thought, rather hysterically, if he raised his sword he could pierce its protective core.

FORTY FIVE

Sham moved gracefully, with a slight arrogant swagger, across the stone floor toward Orn, a small self indulgent smile playing across his lips.
"You have news for me?" Orn called impatiently.
Sham bowed low. "I do, Master. I have met the group that your brother travels among and find them of no significant threat."
"Is that so?" Orn asked smoothly, then lowering his voice dangerously he leaned toward Sham. "Never, underestimate my brother, Human. He was not chosen Masterhand over me for his weaknesses." Sham nodded quickly, the smile disappearing. "Now, tell me of this encounter."
"I met up with them in Quayside. Vero travels with an old friend of mine, as I had thought, called Rhan who is a Da’liesh, and his warrior friend, Taoe."
"Tell me of this Da’liesh. What kind of man is he?"
"Strong, loyal, committed, moody - powerful. He was incarcerated, just over a year ago, for the murder of his brother, half brother actually, for the rape of the Tangmere girl he travels with. Unfortunately for us, he survived. He was just released recently. He would never join us, but will aid Vero to the death if it means saving his precious land.
"The warrior is simple enough but loyal, especially to Rhan. I don’t know anything about the others. Through the use of my... charms, I find that Rhan's following a dream shard. The Wakhanee must be guiding him somehow."
"I see….and, did you, by chance, ascertain their plans, how they expect to defeat us?"
"No, Master but they were heading, I believe, for Raven's Eye City. I did not think you would wish me to kill them, only to report what I've seen."
Orn laughed bitterly. "You puny, pathetic creature! You could not kill Vero." Orn felt the cold edge of fear creep into his own soul at his brother's approach. He would never admit to the tiny niggling of doubt surrounding what might happen to Thamos or himself were he to kill Vero. He hoped his brother still believed the same.
Sham lowered his head to hide his own anger, and spoke softly. "I know a way to lure Rhan here."
"Yes....?"
"His father. Take him. Bring him here. He's a historian, writer. He can tell you many things and Rhan will do anything for him. He will know what the dream shard holds."
Orn's eyes glittered. "I think, Sham, that I like you. Be gone. Take Raev and Phyron. Find this man and bring him to me, and tell Phyron, while he's at it, to locate Onhyx. The lazy beast hasn't reported back."
"Consider it done, Master." Sham risked a smug smile in Orn's direction then hastily departed. Orn watched him go, his mind on the Wakhanee. He would find a way to kill them. They had cheated him all along. They were how Vero had found him.

FORTY SIX

Rhan and his companions arrived outside the high city walls near dusk two days later, hot and thirsty, the land becoming a brown desert before their eyes. Rhan wondered how the vineyards further to the West fared but there, he knew, the land could be frozen solid.
Raven's Eye Guards watched them suspiciously from atop the catwalk over the gates as they passed through to the city beyond. The disappearing daylight elongated their shadows before obliterating them. Taoe gripped the hilt of his sword spastically and swung his shield over his shoulder. Rhawan, on his other shoulder, shifted uneasily. Lka was silent.
Rhan, walking ahead with Vero, gripped his staff tightly and placed his left hand protectively behind his back, over Lka's cage. Ahlisha, silent and withdrawn, held Finnuala's elbow tightly, guiding her easily along the city street. Raece padded behind, hackles raised as the scent of mistrust and fear wafted over them.
Before coming to a dilapidated roadhouse, they passed several silent buildings, windows open and bare like dead, staring eyes, their doors boarded shut. Rhan glanced about surreptitiously, noting several mercenaries who returned dark, questioning looks. He shuddered as his mind contemplated where the missing businessmen were. Spitting, his eyes on the mercenaries, he led his companions across the threshold of the inn. The jangling bell rang flatly in the heavy air, offering no comfort on that day.
Inside, however, they found a different mood. A cheerful fire lit the gloom and a happy song danced off the lips of the generously rounded barmaid. "What'll ya have?" she called merrily as they pulled up chairs to a battered table near the fire, more to warm their hearts than from the sudden evening chill.
"Rooms, a meal and ale all 'round." Rhan smiled back at her infectious grin.
She quickly served them the ale, deftly taking their orders while naming their assigned rooms all in one breath. Studying the Inn, Rhan decided they could have their pick of rooms as they appeared to be the only patrons but for a drunken local. The chattering of a Kesh wafted toward them with the smoky heat. Lka answered jovially, bouncing up and down in his cage. Rhan gave him a stern, warning eye, then let him free.
"Can I also get some raw meat for my falcon? He hasn't eaten for a time?"
The buxom maid set up the ale and smiled warmly on the bird and Taoe. "Certainly, anything else?"
"Horses, where can we buy some?" Rhan asked.
She frowned, allowing them to glimpse the despair hidden beneath her jocular veneer. "Jhoe had some but he's...gone, I think. Lemme see, yes, Facore has them all now. Six blocks west, right near the barter exchange."
Rhan nodded. "And your library, it's open?"
"Oh gracious yes," she whooped, slapping an ample thigh with a rough, reddened hand. "Vheap sees well to that. He's ancient but stubborn! Those Daha'et…" She paused and bit her lip fearfully.
Finnuala reached out blindly and grasped her hand. "Do not fear us."
The woman felt her fear melt away like winter's last snow at the healer's touch. "Vheap keeps it open for study. Life must go on, he says, and he still prays to the Wakhanee." She lowered her voice. "Can you believe it! He's trying to find a way to defeat the Daha'et."
Rhan smiled ruefully. "We can believe anything, and you should follow his lead. The Wakhanee are indeed worthy of your prayers." The woman frowned but did not ask any more as her courage had been failing of late, what with her man gone and managing the empty roadhouse alone. She could not take another blow.
"This place makes me nervous," Taoe admitted when she had departed to prepare their meal. "Those mercenaries were watching us. We should have come in separately."
Rhan frowned, then shrugged. "Maybe, but we are who we are, separate or alone. The city guards outnumber them, and the only dragon I saw was paying a penance with work." He looked away as a new thought pinned the walls of his mind with fear, what would happen were all the dragons to turn against them-- the Assembly disbanded. He would not share this thought with his companions.
He swivelled back in his seat, ignoring their questioning glances. "We'll be all right. We just have to have eyes in the back of our heads. We'll search the library first thing, buy the horses and spice then be gone by mid day to meet Celinder. I hope she's right about the book. I don't particularly want to ask the Assembly for help. It’s likely if she doesn't know the way that only those supporting Orn will."
Ahlisha stared at him through unseeing eyes that shimmered and shifted like moonlight on water. "Let Taoe and me buy the horses. You and the others search the library, then we'll meet there. It'll be faster and safer, and appear less suspicious. Vheap will aid us."
Rhan tightened his lips in anger but knew one from within her pushed Ahlisha to question him. Besides, she was right. He was glad to know the souls felt Vheap would aid them. "Fine."
After an excellent meal, they wearily climbed the stairs to bed. Ahlisha, looking more herself, stopped Rhan outside his door. He could not help but sigh with relief. "I'm sorry, Rhan, I can't control them as I'd like. If they wish to speak, they speak. They can be... difficult. I hope you can control them when the need arises-- that they will submit." She watched Rhan's hand curl unconsciously around the pouch holding the stone and panic seized her. "It's so crowded in here." She grabbed her head.
"Ahlisha," he moaned, taking her hand. The other hand still gripped the small pouch that dangled at his belt so he could feel the stone inside.
She relaxed and squeezed his hand. "It's not your fault, Rhan. I wanted to ask if you know the date?" She smiled teasingly at him, lightening the mood.
"No."
"I do. It's six weeks of the summer solstice. I am eighteen today."
"You mean…." His mouth fell open.
"The change has begun." She squeezed his hand once more, then turned and walked gracefully away, leaving him to stare after.
Ahlisha, feeling her body alter to the will of her blood, lay in bed, her face flushed with excitement. Sudden fear gripped her and she felt like the child she had once been, leaving her crying out in longing for her mother. She had never thought to do this alone. Her limbs began to vibrate, her heart to thud, the blood pounding in her ears as the changeling's power coursed through her veins. She flexed her fingers experimentally to find retractable claws instead. For an instant, her mind panicked and she nearly called for help, leaving her wishing more than ever she had never left home. But she did not wish to alert the others, especially Rhan.
She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the urge to vomit to pass, then clenched her body up into a ball. Her mother’s loving face crowded her thoughts, a face soaked with tears, knowing that somewhere her daughter faced this day alone, without her mother’s guidance and love. The child who had left would return a woman she did not know.
Then, it was over, as suddenly as it had begun and she was left feeling strong and vibrant.
Bounding from the bed, she stood on hind legs and placed heavy paws on the dresser top to peer into the small mirror hanging over her washstand. Her gaze fell into the depths of the silver panther's yellow eyes. A tail swished out behind her, twitching in excitement. She had done it. She was a woman.
Those she had trapped within recoiled in fear and rage. She felt herself losing control of them. Willing herself back to the boring form she'd held for her first eighteen years of life, she sighed sadly. The panther faded and the quailing souls grew calm and grateful. She smiled hugely at herself. Now she was truly a woman. It was good her mother had prepared her so well. The tears came unbidden then, unknowingly shared with another, so far away. She missed her parents terribly, and they, in return, missed her.
******
The small group of mercenaries skulking outside the roadhouse the following morning ducked their heads as an enormous red dragon came to rest nearby. He lifted his scaly arm and signaled them over with the wave of a recently sharpened claw. "Tell me, who is it you watch?" he asked silkily.
"A group of travelers. They came in late yesterday, a Da’liesh with 'em as well as a Tangmere."
The dragon bobbed his head atop a long regal neck and snaked a curving smile, smoke spiraling from his nostrils. "So, they've come. Good, this Sham was apparently right. These are the threat to the Daha'et. They follow a dream shard from the Wakhanee which the Da’liesh carries. I want you to follow them when they leave, see which direction they go, then, offer them this message. If they do not give up, we will kill the Da’liesh's father, whom the Daha'et are holding. Talkative old man I'm afraid, gave up his son's story rather easily, confirmed everything Sham told us, with all his posturing and spouting." The dragon chuckled, oblivious to the fear of the men before him.
"If this, Rhan won't agree, kill them if you can, except for the one they call Vero, and take the dream shard." Phyron’s eyes glittered. He had no wish to tangle with the alien and the Da’liesh himself. "Now, have you seen Onhyx, the black?"
The mercenaries shook their heads and Phyron took to the sky in search of his kin. He had a meeting of the Assembly to attend later and couldn’t waste much time on Onhyx. He chuckled aloud again as he thought of their ill placed trust in him. It wouldn’t break his heart if the black was gone anyway.
Following a sumptuous breakfast, the companions stood together under a dismal pewter sky, warm and tinged with threat. Preparing uneasily for their split, Rhan eyed Ahlisha guardedly. He wanted to pull Taoe aside and warn him about the change, but it was not his place and he would not reinforce the distrust that followed the Tangmere throughout life. "So then, we'll meet at the library." He swallowed the hard lump in his throat and tried not to show his nervousness and concern to his companions.
Taoe nodded stiffly, disconcerted by Rhan, then led Ahlisha in the direction of the horses. The others turned with Vero guiding Finnuala into the street that swept toward the large stone library, dramatically and skillfully adorned with sublime sculptures and etchings of dragon's in flight. Vero looked behind him, his gaze lingering on Ahlisha as he sensed a difference. He put his concerns quietly to Rhan as they walked, "She's changed?"
"Yes, but it is for her to share."
Curious but understanding, Vero did not push. He felt Finnuala stiffen at his side. "We're being followed." Her keen hearing had caught what they had missed.
Rhan wrapped an arm around Vero and Finnuala each, as though sharing a joke, all the while glancing back furtively at those who followed them.
Few people roamed the empty streets besides themselves. Rhan, his heart sinking, began to wonder just how many people had been taken by the Daha'et with Raven's Eye being so close to the Dragonshoard range. He felt as if his steps were being tracked by the ghosts of those taken, those he had as yet been unable to help. Where were all the Da’liesh? His heart ached at the thought of them allying with the aliens or simply dead. Those, he noted, who did go about their business in the near silent city, flashed them dark, appraising looks.
"They might follow us when we leave so we'll need to be very, very careful." He reached down to stroke the growling Raece, then swung Lka's cage around to his front. The Kesh was silent, his large eyes fearful.
Ahlisha and Taoe had reached the market, finding it basically deserted but for a few stalls and the lone horse dealer who sat sucking on a stalk of hay. They approached him warily.
"Are you, Facore? We need to buy some horses," Taoe stated, his eyes constantly on the move. He felt Ahlisha's tenseness beside him, adding to his own. She herself was making him nervous. There was something decidedly dangerous about her and he thought it more than the powerful souls she carried. He watched her caress the shaft of her sword and shivered slightly, a movement he noticed he shared with the trader.
"I am. How many?" the man asked after his wary scrutiny of them.
"Five."
"Five? You're only two."
"We travel with friends."
Facore, short of stature with a small, pointy rodent-like face, lowered his voice. "Tell me…do you travel with a Da’liesh, a dog and a blind woman?"
Ahlisha nearly giggled when she noticed his nose twitch like a rat's.
"What's it to you?" Taoe gripped the handle of his sword.
The man bobbed his head. "Gotch'ya." He glanced around, then said loudly as three of the mercenaries passed by, seemingly casual. "Well, my friend, this is all I got. Come and take a look. Fine strong beasts they are." He led them quickly into the confined stable that housed twenty head of horses.
Leaning over the back of a roan mare, he whispered, "Beware of the mercenaries. They are looking for you all. I saw them speakin' cozy like, with a big red this mornin'." He raised his voice when a shaggy head poked around the corner. "So, you'll take these five then, and don't try to haggle the price. I'll not be havin' that."
"Fine, I'll help ya get 'em ready," Taoe said loudly as he pulled a saddle from its stand.
"They're gone," Ahlisha whispered as the three of them saddled the ponies. "Do you know what they were talking to the dragon about?"
"Dunno, but I'm sure it had to do with you all. They were asking questions after he left. Can ya tell me why they're after ya?"
"I can tell you, Facore, to pray to the Wakhanee for our success and to never think this land defeated."
The man's brown rodent eyes twinkled back at Taoe. "That, my friend I can do and the less I know, I guess, the better."
"All the better," Taoe agreed. Without a backward glance he and Ahlisha led the ponies out of the stable into the now frying heat, the sky still a deathly hue. Pulling out his pouch to pay the man, Taoe asked, "Where is everyone?"
The twinkle was gone in an instant. "Gone, the Daha'et have hit us hard. We're within close range of their encampment, wherever it is. We have wraiths in and out of here all the time, Daha'et too." His eyes darkened and his face grew still. "They took my daughter."
Taoe shuddered and placed his meaty hand on the man's shoulder. "Speak to the Wakhanee," he said quietly. "And believe we will succeed."
"May the Masters go with you," the dealer returned.
******
"Vheap," Rhan called out as they entered the library, even Raece. He would leave no one outside alone.
"What?" A quavering voice greeted them from behind a towering shelf of dusty books.
"May we have a word?" Vero requested, guiding Finnuala into a chair that sat within the vestibule of the magnificent library, which was filled with books from wall to wall and ceiling to floor. The roof was an arched dome of stained glass, sending shafts of dancing dazzling light throughout the building, bouncing off every surface.
"A word, certainly a word." The voice quavered even more as its elderly owner came to stand before them, dressed in the stark white gown of a scholar. He eyed them up and down. "What is it?"
"We’ve heard that you might be able to help us in finding a book on...ancient rituals that might hold some...maps." Rhan glanced furtively behind him.
"Maps." He eyed them through crinkled, suspicious eyes that peered out intelligently from the creased pockets of his face. "Why?"
Rhan peered around, but the old man interrupted in irritation, "Don't worry. They don't come in here."
"They might if we have. Is there a place where we could speak privately?"
"Certainly, certainly. My office." He guided them easily through a warren of book lined halls to a small room jammed with a desk and several chairs. "Have a seat."

FORTY SEVEN

"Now, why do you want this information?"
Rhan stared at the old man in silent appraisal for a moment before pulling out the dream shard and passing it to him. It almost felt natural to have others view it now, to tell their story. This man had a right to know.
Vheap gasped in awe, reverence. "Wakhanee. So, I was right, they are the Masters left here by the True One after the Age of Might." He studied the dream silently before asking, "Can you save them - us?"
"I believe so, but we need a certain map. There’s said to be an ancient book that holds a map which shows the path to the Wakhanee. Between that, and the dragon, Celinder, we hope to get there and heal the Wakhanee, then defeat the Daha'et." It sounded outrageous even to him, and he smiled ruefully before continuing. "I assume from my dream, that the Daha'et have remained in the Dragonshoard, near the Wakhanee, to watch over them."
Vheap shook his head. "Yes, they are close to here. But how.. how will you defeat them? The horrors I have seen….they are more powerful than even the Masters."
"Not true," Vero interrupted. "Your Wakhanee were caught unaware, weakened by the loss of your belief. It was only blind luck on my brother's part. Dlrow is an ancient and powerful place."
The old man nearly fell from his chair. "Brother! So you are one." He sprang toward Vero with the agility of a man half his age.
The Masterhand stood up, towering over the ancient scholar. "Not one of them," he assured and went on to explain his story.
Returned to his seat, Vheap sighed wearily. "It's a sad tale all around. Tell me, how do you propose to defeat these monsters? I suppose we can look for no aid from across the sea?"
"That, I won't share. And no, there will be no aid. All the ports are guarded and so far the Daha'et have not found it necessary to bother our neighbors." He did not tell him of Eru or the stone.
"Lucky us," Vheap snapped.
"If you don't have the information-- know what we're doing-- you can't be forced to pass it on."
"Right." Vheap's voice shook. "I’m too old for this. I'll take you to the book you desire. Only I, left alive, know where it's kept. Few ever knew of its existence to begin with. Who told you?"
Rhan smiled mysteriously. "We have our ways."
The elderly man pointed to a high shelf. He pulled a sliding ladder across the floor and jerkily climbed up to pull down a small, dusty, dun colored book. "Here. Not much to look at, but it's all you need."
Back in Vheap's office, they opened the book, whose bold title proclaimed it to be the Authority on Ancient Rituals Of Ourshare, and poured over the map that spilled across two pages. "So, we will have to pass through the gold mines, then follow these tunnels west, deep into the Dragonshoard Mountains." He shivered, closing the book with a snap and bowed over the table. He preferred, after his time in the mines, to be above ground.
"Thank you," Finnuala spoke for them all, taking the ancient's hand when she stood. Raece offered his proud muzzle for a pat.
"Fine animal. You're welcome. Your visit is safe with me. Be careful and may the Wakhanee guide your steps."
Rhan tried to smile. "And yours, old one. Our many thanks, and the land's."
Vheap tilted his head thoughtfully, eyes shrewd. "Tell me, do you know of a stone?"
Rhan gasped. "How do you know of it?"
The old man smiled, lighting up his face. "You'd be amazed at what you'll find in a book."
"You must forget it's existence and tell no one of it."
Vheap bobbed his head solemnly. "You have my word. It has been my secret thus far." He clasped his hands together under the long sleeves of his gown to keep them from trembling. He had been right about so many things. He was glad to know this before he died.
"It must be destroyed."
The librarian shook his head unhappily. "It is for the best," he commented, thinking of what he had read of the stone and the beginnings of Dlrow in an ancient book none, that he knew of, but his eyes and the author’s, had spied. "Yes, for the best. Good luck, my friends." His heart thumped and sank as he realized how the Daha'et would be destroyed.
"And to you, be careful," Rhan warned as they departed.
Taoe and Ahlisha were waiting impatiently outside, holding the five ponies. They looked immensely relieved on their companions’ arrival.
"Bad news," Taoe whispered when Rhan was close enough. "Those mercenaries are looking for us and, Facore, the horse dealer saw them with a dragon, a red, this morning. Talking all-- his word-- cosy."
"They've been following us everywhere, Rhan," Ahlisha added, her gaze straying nervously to the group of seven who hovered nearby.
Rhan glanced about as calmly as he was able to view them. At least there were more people about now. That eased his heart. He had begun to wonder if they'd entered a spirit town. The glances directed at them, however, were unfriendly and fearful. Rhan wanted to shout that they were not the enemy. Sham's cruel barbs haunted him.
"Do you think we'll be attacked?" Taoe, voice taught, asked as they led their horses quickly to the barter exchange to buy the spice for the Vhari'ni. It was a rare treat for the Elder race.
"Not here, outside, somewhere. They can't be sure the guards won't come to our aid, and they'd be vastly outnumbered."
"That dragon's probably flying back to the Daha'et for reinforcements," Ahlisha warned. "They must fear Vero greatly."
"They do," Vero admitted, gaining a sudden insight into his brother's thought pattern, "and Orn's curiosity has always got the better of him."
"Well, they won't know where we're headed, once we’re gone. I'll shroud our path in fog for as long as I can."
"Mercenaries are good trackers, Rhan, skilled with the ways of Da’liesh. They might still follow," Taoe pointed out. "But it'll give us an advantage."
"That's all we need."
"The horse trader said many have been taken from here. He figures it's close to the Daha'et encampment….or so they believe."
Rhan nodded. This he knew.
"Wakhanee guide their souls," Finnuala murmured, her blank eyes cast down, hand gripping Ahlisha's tightly.
The travelers were shocked by the appearance of the market. Taoe and Ahlisha had only been on its edge but within its wide circle there was little activity. The dealers were fewer in number than the patrons and little barter was taking place. The echo of the odd calling voice glided lethargically through the area, morose and lonely. A breeze sighed through the district as melancholy as those it touched but cooling them agreeably.
Once they had located the lone and silent spice dealer and bought the spice, they made hastily for the city gates fully expecting to be followed. However, nothing around them stirred.
"They're already out then." Edgy, Taoe led his horse through the gates with his hand on his sword and shield swung forward. He reached up to stroke Rhawan as the bird, having jumped from his saddle perch, nestled against his cheek. "Don’t be afraid, Rhawan," he said soothingly to the agitated bird.
"All right, mount up and follow Taoe in the lead. I'll be behind, guiding the fog." Rhan glanced up briefly, only to meet the eyes of a guard, who watched them, seemingly impassive, but Rhan could read behind the mask. "They'll be glad to see the backs of us. How do they know who to trust?"
Well they damn well shouldn't be!" Taoe snapped at his first comment. "Fighting for a world that hates you, that's rich," he expounded bitterly. He, too, remembered Sham's words.
"Don't fault them, Taoe. Put yourself in their position. We've all seen what the Daha'et can do, and it appears so many of our own have joined their ranks or hidden themselves away. Then, to have the dragons turn on us...."
"Hey," Taoe suddenly shouted, his voice booming with rage. "Keep your eyes to yourself."
"Taoe!" Finnuala, her pony beside his so he could guide it, shot out a white hand and grabbed his arm. "Please, we've come so far. Don't destroy us now."
Taoe could see Vero and Rhan both preparing spells. "Sorry, sorry, I'm calm. Sorry boys," he called up to the guards, who were stirring restlessly. "A little tense is all."
The guard who had singled out Rhan raised his hand to wave off the offense, but did not speak. There was something about the strange group that gave him a sudden courage, and he knew he would battle the next wraiths that came, with or without aid.
"Beware," he abruptly called down. His mother had been a seer, rare and feared among the land, and her blood coursed through his veins. He knew this group to be in mortal danger. He also knew them to possibly be his saviors.
Rhan raised his own hand in thanks then kicked his roan pony into a trot, the others following suit, soon passing him. Twirling a cloak about his shoulders, he advised the others to do the same, despite the heat. They had heard from the barmaid the land north was frozen solid as well as west to the vineyards. They might slam into the freezing weather without time to stop and cover themselves while fleeing the city.
Once out of sight of the guards, Rhan began to call the power in. Waving his staff through the air, he traced the lines down his leg. A trail of fog that clouded their passage wafted behind like a loyal dog. Raece sped up so as not to be enveloped. This was a taxing spell and Rhan knew he could not hold it for long. His power might be needed for other things. "Beware." The guard’s voice echoed in his ears.

FORTY EIGHT

Heading toward the towering Dragonshoard Mountains, they found the landscape changing. Soon they were surrounded by a tight pine forest that wove toward the rock’s base, which spread across the landscape like a mighty fortress. With each step the air around them grew colder and colder until their breath, where it escaped from steaming mouths, froze. Sounds, however small, thudded around them in the hush of the extreme cold, exacerbating their noise in the thick, frozen air. Every crackle, every pop, resounded like thunder. Their voices carried far, dead and flat, even in a whisper. Clouds filmed the gray winter's sky, shrouding the yellow sun, blanketing its brilliance to shades of dull winter, though it was summer.
"I can't maintain the fog in this cold," Rhan said, wheezing.
"Drop it then. There's Celinder." Taoe pointed ahead to where the elderly dragon lay, apparently sleeping despite the extreme cold.
"Why doesn't she move?" Rhan asked through gritted, chattering teeth as he attempted to maintain the fog. "Damn, I'll be too tired to fight. I must let go."
With the fog receded, the bleakness of the truth was laid out before them. Celinder was dead, burned, still smouldering…murdered, no doubt, by the red who had been in the city earlier.
"Oh," Ahlisha gasped, and gagged, pulling her cloak tightly about her. Lka began to chatter softly from his cage. Taoe's falcon emitted his own shriek into the tension. Vero, sure his heart would break, stared at the creature, wondering what it made of death.
"What…what is it?" Finnuala demanded, her voice laden with fear.
Celinder is dead, Nuala."
"Oh… oh no."
"Damn!" Rhan surveyed the area, ignoring Raece, who stood sniffing the dragon and growling. "We've got to get out of here. We'll be safer near the mountains and the Vhari'ni."
"The Vhari'ni are still a full day's travel," a cold, strange voice advised across the chill air.
Ahlisha shuddered.
The companions froze, their ponies pawing anxiously. They were circled and alone. A light snow, reminiscent of a priest's healing touch before death, began to fall soundlessly to the ground. Raece growled louder. "Rhan of Waterside, I have a message for you. Give up and your father lives. The Daha'et would like to...speak with you, especially you," the tall, dark man said to Vero.
"I'm sure they would," Vero replied arrogantly.
"My father!"
"Oh yes, quite a tale spinner. He likes to talk about his son."
Rhan's face turned wooden as he hardened his heart. "My father would never ask me to give in to you. He is proud! You can prepare to die."
"To the forest with you, Da’liesh." The mercenary referred to Soulstealer’s dead forest of unwanted souls.
Knowing he was weak, Rhan, after dropping from his pony’s back, called the power and planted confusion in his enemy’s minds. It was into this turmoil that Ahlisha plunged with the heart of a panther, ripping and clawing her way through the soft bodies of her enemies. Yhisc's kind face urged her on. It was not long before seven mercenaries lay dead, either from the vicious stroke of Taoe's sword or the swift slicing of Ahlisha's claws and fangs. The frightened ponies had scattered in the chaos.
Ahlisha, back in her own form, writhed on the ground, clutching her head while the souls screamed at her in outrage and torment. Her change caused them great pain, weakened them. Finnuala took her hand, calming the girl. "I must not change," she finally gasped.
Looking at her companions first, then at the carnage that spilled over the white snow, she could not meet their wary eyes. This was why her people were so reviled and feared throughout the land, particularly in the South where they rarely traveled.
Closing his mouth, slicing through his emotions, Rhan reached across the void to take her hand. "Thank you." The others followed his lead. Ahlisha was what she was, as they were what they were.
"Once we find the ponies, we'll ride on to the Vhari'ni, and pray they offer us passage to the Dragonshoard," Rhan remarked, his eyes lingering on the steaming forms of the dead. "I imagine we'll still need to camp a night before we reach them. We'll follow the base of the mountain and stay off the road. Someone… or thing might come looking for these…The dragon that killed Celinder could well still be in the area." He shrugged. Who knew.
"Will we have to cross the Highcrest again?"
"No, Ahlisha, we're on the east side now. We'll follow the base east, not too far, and hope the Vhari'ni welcome us with open arms." Taoe snorted and Rhan did not continue, thinking with Celinder dead it was either the Vhari’ni or the Assembly, and he'd rather take his chances with the goldsmiths. They had the book, so there was nothing more the Assembly could offer them but, perhaps, death.
"You believe these Vhari’ni have remained safe from the Daha’et?" Vero enquired uneasily.
"They have little to offer the Daha’et."
"They have gold," Vero reminded him.
With the ponies, who had not gone far, gathered, they continued on under the leaden sky and sprinkling snow. A few dusty brown winter birds twittered in the trees, the only other sign of life on the frozen-scape. The land had been hit hard by the summer deep freeze. The ground was littered with frost heaves, the trees cracked and wounded. The forest could not take much more and soon it would be, in truth, winter all over again.
As they rode, Rhan's mind lingered on the unfortunate Celinder, then ducked around the thought of his father at the hands of the Daha'et. The old man was tough, but that would not help him against such an enemy. He might as well face the fact that Yhisc was probably, like Celinder, already dead….the last of his own family gone. His heart raged. He would have to tell Fiona of her loss, as well. There was nothing left for him. If he died in the battle that must surely come, he no longer cared. He felt eyes on him and turned to face Ahlisha. His traitorous heart thumped and came back to life.
She reached over and squeezed his hand over the reins. "Yhisc is stronger than us all."
The warmth of her voice filled him with hope and he thought of a future that shaped delicately in the form of her fingertips.

FORTY NINE

"Well?" Orn demanded.
"Onhyx the black is dead. The dragon, a green called Celinder, who was aiding Vero and his friends, is also dead - now." The red grinned maliciously. "And, from what I've seen of the area on my return trip this morning...so are your mercenaries. I observed no sign of your enemies."
"Our enemies. And why did you not attempt to kill them?"
Phyron was silent a moment, gaining control of his anger. "I had to return to the Assembly for a meeting. You do not wish them know of my relationship with you, I presume. It is good this Celinder is dead. She seemed to know all about me… and Onhyx."
Orn glared at the dragon before turning to his captive who was seated on a chair nearby. So…your son has let me down. He cares nothing for your life old man. Pity."
Yhisc spat to ward off the vileness of the words. "My son will do what is right. It's what I taught him."
Orn stared at the old man hatefully, then turned and smiled crookedly at the dragon. "We'll keep him alive for now, but if he is not useful...he's yours." He felt his heart lift as Yhisc's creased face turned a deathly hue.
Phyron bowed, eyeing Yhisc with distaste. He certainly would not eat such an unappetising morsel. He might as well go home and eat goats with the rest of the Assembly. "What do you command of me now, Master?"
Orn stared at Phyron, finding his silky tones, even more than Onhyx, made him nervous. "Search them out. Perhaps, if you had been on hand at the time, they'd be dead instead of the mercenaries."
The dragon hid his face a moment, composing himself once more. "I have already told you I had an errand to perform. It was my task to report the deaths of the two traitors, Onhyx and Celinder, at the general meeting. This is only beneficial to you. My own kind must not see me as a traitor. I must attend the Assembly when ordered. It was hard going as it was. Celinder had already spoken to some of what she knew. I had to turn it around…Besides I couldn’t kill Vero."
"You don't fool me, Phyron, but playing both ends of the candle can be dangerous. Where do you think they will go from there?" he asked, his thoughts returning to his brother.
"To the Vhari'ni for passage to you, my Master. I'm sure that visit to Vheap, the librarian in Raven's Eye City, offered them something of use or they wouldn’t have risked the city. Celinder must have pointed them in that direction, but why I have no idea. She was one of the eldest, who still remembered our vow to guard the Wakhanee, so she might have known things I do not."
"Fine. Let them come. I fear none." He did not deem it necessary to tell the dragon he and the others were working fervently to cloud Vero's vision so he could not sense them when he got near enough. Phyron need not know the truth of their fear. Orn had not believed the Masterhand would make it so far. If only he could discover how this group planned to defeat them, a thing he had not thought or dreamed possible, not on Dlrow. Now he would have to put his beliefs to the test. Damn Vero!
The dragon did not speak, but his thoughts were apparent.
"Why do you serve me?" Orn finally asked, directing narrow, challenging eyes at Phyron.
"Because I am tired of serving men, of demeaning myself. With you in power, penance will no longer suffered. Laws, rules will not apply to me. Your numbers are small now, but will grow and we will rule at your side." Phyron's eyes glittered dangerously. He knew the Daha'et would not remain on Dlrow, nor would they take the dragons to Thamos but by the time they left, he and his rogue kin would be in control of Ourshare.
"What of the rest of your kind?"
"Am I to care?" he queried haughtily. "They've chosen their futures. Why don't you kill your brother?"
"I can't - alone. He is powerful, but together, if he comes to us, we can defeat him. Alone I cannot. His power as Masterhand surpasses mine but, he cannot kill me either or, so he is fooled by his beliefs, or he risks his precious world." What do I believe? he wondered in panic, then became uncharacteristically honest. "I can't even track him if he doesn't use power, which he is well aware of."
He laughed nervously, a brittle crackling sound, not wanting the dragon or his own companions to know of his fear, and what was it he feared? Was it fear that Vero now believed he could kill Orn without harming Thamos? Or was it fear that the Word spoke the truth, and if he himself killed Vero God would destroy him and his world? He smiled grimly, thinking Vero, at least, must have the same fears.
"What will you have me do?" Phyron asked again with a yawn, fast becoming bored with Orn's prattling.
"Watch, if they are seen - report. Burn another village. The people need to be reminded who’s in charge of Dlrow now."
The dragon curled his snout into a gruesome smile. "With pleasure, and while I'm at it I shall have a word with that librarian, Vheap, whom the mercenaries reported Rhan had spoken with. He might know something," he added, sharpening a claw on his teeth. "Oh, by the way, Orn, my Master, you are not truly in charge of Dlrow, only Ourshare. You have not even ventured across the sea - yet." Orn did not speak but the dragon could easily see the Daha'et had no intention of expanding his territory, only leaving him to believe further they would not remain in his hair, so to speak, for long. He had sensed the agitation in Orn and wondered momentarily at its cause, then mentally shrugged. What did he care?

FIFTY

Rhan and his party arrived mid day at the entrance to the mines of the Vhari'ni after a particularly restless night. The Da’liesh, farther weakening himself, had buried them in the darkness of his power, and the dragon had, as he later reported to Orn, not been able to spot them dusk or dawn. As promised, he'd had a nice little chat with Vheap. Phyron relished the elderly man's tormented screams but the little wretch still had not spoken of what Rhan wanted with him, except to mumble something of a stone. It hardly seemed worth telling Orn about.
*****
"What you want?" The short, stocky creature before them demanded with an impatient stamp of his child’s size foot. "State your business."
Vero gazed at him with interest, intrigued by the baldness of his head and the conflicting thickness of his bushy gray brows.
"To buy passage, and for you to tell us if our map is correct, if you know." "What's on offer." The accent was so heavy it was hard to understand.
"Spice….silver too." Rhan pulled it from his pack.
"What 'bout bird and Kesh?"
Lka squealed in fear and Taoe placed a protective arm around the falcon, who rode perched on his saddle.
"Not on offer."
The Vhari'ni nodded. "Come. Leave your ponies in pen. We talk. I am Lugh."
Rhan introduced them each. He then laid out the slim book on a slab table centered in a small, round room carved into the rock face. It was the gatesman's office.
"The Wakhanee…Why?" Lugh laughed low and gurgling.
"To defeat the Daha'et."
"We care nothing. Your coin, spice… there's what matter. If the True Master tell us different, we obey. Not hear word long time."
"But they're monsters," Taoe spluttered.
Lugh waved a pudgy hand. "To you. Not care." He glanced around nervously when several bald heads peered into his office. "This map correct as far as we know. Hard to follow. Paths change. Only dragons might know for sure. Take this. If any ask, show it - it's receipt for payment."
Rhan and his companions curiously studied the slim, golden medallion. When he finally looked up to ask Lugh a question, he found he had gone.
"Damn!" Taoe swore.
"Good God, they don't care at all," Vero uttered in amazement.
"Apparently not," Rhan agreed dryly.
"Sad," Finnuala commented. "They must be lonely here."
"Well I don't feel sorry for them, women or no women," Ahlisha stated hotly.
"The map points west, so we might as well follow it since this appears to be the only help we’re likely to get. We’ll follow the first passage we find to the West. I wonder what he meant by changing paths," Rhan mused, not expecting an answer.
Rhan started, bringing his eyes sharply from the map when Lugh reappeared carrying a heavy sack. "Provisions. Third passage West. We care for ponies."
"Thank you," Rhan stammered, his face flushed in embarrassment.
"No care!" Lugh assured them, glancing around to see if any of his kin were watching. "Go."
Finnuala grabbed his hand. "But you do care, and if we succeed it is also for you - your kind and because of you."
Lugh pulled his hand free and backed away, blushing a furious red. "No care - go!"
Rhan pulled Lka's cage loose and held it out in front of them, the little creature's soft light guiding their steps through the murk of the thick walled corridor. The mountain shook beneath them, grumbling and groaning as the Vhari'ni went about their mining. The travelers glanced at the ceiling nervously, but it did not appear to be in the process caving in.
The corridor cool, damp and musty, smelt of decay-- death. Small springs gushed out of the rock, running down the wall's face like tears. Rhan stopped them often to stare at the map as he led them a winding path through the curving tunnels, some so narrow they could hardly squeeze through, others the width of thirty men or knee deep in chilled water.
Finally, Rhan called them to a halt, unsure of the time of day or night, but his aching muscles told him they had walked long and far. Studying the map while they rested, eating a cold meal, he found he was unable to tell if they were going the right direction. He wondered if that was what Lugh had meant.
The sudden, piercing cry of Rhawan set his heart in his throat. "Calm your bird, Taoe!" He relaxed as Finnuala's soothing voice reached out to the nervous falcon.
Vero spoke next into the hours long silence, his whisper harsh, slithering across the rocks before sliding over them. "They might be able to sense me the closer I get to them. I'm sure we are drawing near."
"How in the name of the Masters could they do that when we don't even know where we are?" Taoe scoffed. He studied Vero suspiciously. "You said if you didn't use power they couldn't sense you, remember? So, if that's not true, why can't you lead us to them?"
"I know we are going in the right direction but together they can cloud my vision. It's my proximity, they, I, will sense, magic or no."
"But you are so much more powerful, or so you have said," Taoe mocked.
"True but in a different way. I could kill them or a good many before they got to me. Orn….Orn as you know is...different," Vero stopped, he wanted to tell them he was no longer sure of the truth of the Word but could not bring himself too.
"Why, speak Vero, it’s because you won't kill him, not can’t, is that all we've gone through this for? You can, but won't!" Taoe was on his feet. "I knew it! You’ve said as much before! Liar!"
"Taoe," Rhan warned, standing as well. "Vero has already told us that it would be up to me. He cannot kill Orn or he risks his world. I am the Thoughtmaster."
Vero remained sitting on the cold rock beneath him. "The truth can be either whore or virgin, which would you have?"
"Just the truth," Rhan answered quietly.
"It's true, I love my brother, and it is forbidden for me to kill him as our blood's shared. I will be damned. My own world will be destroyed, as speaks God's Word." He couldn't continue. Did he really believe that? If he did kill Orn he could no longer be sure of the consequences, and perhaps Dlrow’s need far outweighed them. This was, after all, his own fault. But he was weak. He could not meet the eyes that studied him, warring between pity and anger, the pity by far the worse of the two. "Quite simply, Orn might not believe as I do. He might kill me or try, and....I don’t know what I believe anymore."
He tried to continue now that the truth was out, "This is where you come in, Rhan. Since this is your land, and my beliefs bind me...I have a family," he tried to justify his decisions. "Is my need greater than yours, no, but I...I just…"
Taoe moved so quickly Rhan couldn't stop him. He could only glimpse the cold metal of his sword as it arched madly toward Vero. "No!" Ahlisha wailed, her cry echoing around them.
A blinding light flashed brilliantly, illuminating them all momentarily. The sword flew from Taoe’s hand as he shot back against the rock wall. He hit with a sickening thud, sliding down to slump, head hanging.
"What have you done?" Ahlisha cried, leading Finnuala and Raece to Taoe.
"He's not dead!" Vero snapped harshly. "But he should be, and you all will be if we don't get out of here now. They'll find us for certain and we've yet to reach the Wakhanee. Surprise is our only chance! I can kill many, and will do so but not all, and not Orn." If I can help it, he thought. "And I, can be killed. Do you understand!" He stared hard at Rhan and with sudden clarity knew in his heart that if he had to kill Orn he would. He would do it for this man whose eyes displayed so many emotions so easily-- anger, pity, hurt and compassion, but most of all, understanding. His family burned to ashes before his eyes.
Taoe, awake but groggy, glared at Vero with smouldering eyes. "You lied to us! You don't care about us or Dlrow. You are a coward. You could kill your brother if you wanted to."
"Watch your mouth Taoe!" Rhan’s eyes flicked nervously between the two.
Vero stared back at Taoe, his eyes cold. "Would I be here if I didn’t care? I did not have to share my dream with the Conclave. I am Masterhand. I do not have to prove myself to any. I came because it was right. I don’t know if I can kill my brother! What if I lose faith in the Word and do as you say, and my world dies. Then what, Taoe! My family!" His voice echoed thinly throughout the cavern, screaming out the fear of the truth.
"You must decide then, Outsider, whose world is more worthy of saving," Taoe spat with hatred. "Ahlisha might die because of you!"
"Yes, Taoe, Ahlisha might die, my family might die, and I must decide. What would you choose?" he asked, but the Warrior only turned away. "Remember, Taoe, Rhan might not even need me. How can I know the truth on this world so far from home? Let's just get this over with so I can perhaps return home and you can have your lives back." He wished very much to see his own family again. They danced alone and afraid before his eyes. He hastily wiped away silent tears that only Taoe refused to see.
"Fine," Taoe snapped, staggering to his feet.
"You are too hard on him, Taoe," Ahlisha whispered close to his ear, her hot breath warming his heart. "Orn, is his brother, and how can he, a stranger here, say for sure what will happen to me? Are you so oblivious to his pain? Could you risk your family and your world for that of another?"
Ahlisha tilted her head thoughtfully and Taoe's heart ached at her beauty. He wanted to strangle the truth of exactly what would happen to her out of Vero. Ahlisha dying, he could not bear it. He knew the Masterhand knew, and as far as he was concerned this situation was his fault and his to correct regardless of the threats to his world - his family. What he would do was irrelevant.
Ahlisha herself was wondering if it was true that they did indeed share this formidable God, and would he truly destroy Vero's world were he to kill Orn? And if so, why? Orn was evil. Did Orn believe that he could kill Vero without consequence? She desperately wished they could know the truth. She was not so sure they could kill Orn without Vero’s help. She realized, though shocked at the thought, she was not afraid to die. It seemed a natural end for the Conduit, but she was afraid to die without killing Orn. She hoped the Word was false and that Vero would help them if required, and that his world would stand after. She would hate to have to make such a choice.
Taoe reached over and hugged Ahlisha close but did not speak or look into her shifting eyes. He was glad she seemed to be gaining more control over those she held. He then reached down and helped Finnuala to her feet. "My thanks, healer. I'm fine, but I've a headache." In his heart he wondered what right he did have to chastise Vero? Orphan that he was, what did he know of brothers or family? Then, his gaze fell on Rhan and he realized he did indeed know of the bond of brothers. Could he kill Rhan if he had too? His heart turned to ice at the thought.
Finnuala interrupted his thoughts with her curt answer. "One you deserve," she snapped referring to his headache. Her voice softened. "I can't heal dead men, Taoe. Take care. He is a powerful being."
"Let's go," Rhan ordered. "Vero's right. We must move now." No one noticed the glittering eyes that followed them from the adjoining corridor, though Rhan sought out Raece, who was emitting a low, nervous growl.
"Now," a flat, empty voice whispered over the dead air.
"Who spoke?" Vero demanded, his senses tingling with warning before he fell with a thud.
"Vero?" Rhan swung Lka around to see. "Damn." He found himself staring into the malevolent eyes of a large red dragon, barely able to squeeze his bulk into the corridor.
"If you will follow Itar, he'll take you to your father, Da’liesh. I'll just grab this little bundle. So nice of Vero to lead us right to you - what!"
"What is it?" Itar demanded. Two other Daha'et had now joined him.
"He's gone."
"Gone!"
"Gone. You mustn't have knocked him out."
"Let's get out of here, now. We'll take these to Orn. That'll lure him out, since he seems to care about them."
"Not likely," Taoe snarled.
"Oh, he cares, Human, make no doubt. It's my belief he would damn himself and Thamos to save you if it came to it, despite any threats against himself and his family. Guilt is a terrible burden. Now, will you come quietly? Or should I come up with a way to move you? Perhaps we need Phyron here to heat you up a little, hmmm." The dragon chuckled. He liked Itar a lot better than Orn.
Rhan placed his hand on Taoe's arm. "We'll come. Taoe you guide Finnuala. Ahlisha, you there?"
"Yes." Her voice sounded strange in the ill lit cavern, as though many voices mingled with her own. Itar eyed her curiously.
"Where's my father?"
"You'll see him and plenty of others, then to save a few lives, you can tell us what your plan was. Show us this dream shard," Itar said and snickered at the look of sickened surprise Rhan shot him, "and work as bait for the Masterhand…a title that should have gone to my master. Come - quietly."
******
"Where am I?" Vero asked groggily.
"Lugh got you."
"Lugh, good God, how?"
"I been following, watch when you hit. I drag away well they busy with friends."
Vero sat up and grabbed his head, groaning miserably. "I can't think… the pain."
"Chew this," Lugh shoved a vile smelling root at him.
"Ugh, what is it!"
"Ghinweed root. Help pain. You see."
Vero set to chewing, noticing with each swallow the pain receded. With the pain dulled to a tolerable ache, he finally stood. "My thanks, Lugh. Now, how do we find them?"
He could feel the snow clearing from his mind where they had once blocked him, but could not yet see. They wanted him to come-- now. He shivered.
"I know where are. Followed before. That why I follow you so can show - help if go wrong. He sighed. "Vhari'ni are not to care. Get mixed up in mess, Vsar say."
"Who is this Vsar?"
"Leader of Vhari'ni."
"Well, I for one am glad you didn't listen. You'll be a hero, Lugh and you may speak in your own tongue. I will understand." The little man was blushing hotly. His face suffused with happiness. "Lead on."

FIFTY ONE

Death,
friend to the dying,
enemy to the bereaved.

Orn drummed his wasted fingers and glared at his enemies. "So, this is them? They don't look like much."
Taoe shuffled his feet indignantly.
"Something to say, Warrior?"
"You don't look like much either!"
Orn laughed uproariously, then sobered. "Yes, but I am and you are not. Let me show you a few of your...friends. Itar, take them to the pens."
Raece stood, growling at Orn as the others were led away. "Be gone, beast or I'll kill you now." The dog slunk after Finnuala. His jaw tightened with hatred, but the healer needed him alive.
Finnuala stopped. "What is it?" Moaning drifted to her ears on the currents of stale air.
"People, hundreds of them. Captive and…" She felt Ahlisha shiver. "..wraiths.. an army."
The red eyes of the wraiths followed them heatedly.
"Da," Rhan cried as he spied the old man among the milling crowd.
"Stop, Fingal," Finnuala cried. "A child is crying."
"Yes, many are, Nuala. Come away. There is nothing you can do here.. yet." Ahlisha felt Nuala's body shaking with rage along with her own. The souls inside her recoiled in rage and despair. This was why they were here.
"I'm so sorry, Rhan," the old man was saying as he clutched at Rhan's hand, his weathered face defeated. "It's my fault. I told them too much."
"No, Da, they knew most of it anyway," Rhan said in his own tongue. "This is no one's fault, with the exception of Sham."
"Sham?"
"Yes, Da. He's gone against us. He gave them most of their information, so you see, it’s not your fault."
"Oh no," the old man shook his gray head, peering around, "but where is Vero?"
"We're not sure. He was hit, then disappeared."
"Traitor!" Taoe spat heatedly, though Itar's words haunted him. Did Vero care about them after all?
"No," Yhisc said quietly. "I don't believe it. He'll come through for us. I'm certain."
Itar's head appeared between them. "We certainly hope so."
All three men had to clench their fists, fighting for calm. This was not the time. They needed all the Daha'et together. Vero had at least told him that much. Rhan still wasn't positive of what to do with the stone, however, and out of a fear he now realized, had not asked enough questions to prepare himself. Like Ahlisha’s song, his heart told him that he would know what to do when the time came. He only hoped the Daha’et would not, in their pomposity, search him and find the stone. So far, they had not even removed their weapons. Rhan's heart roiled at their arrogance.
"Did you speak to your father?" Orn asked politely when they were returned to him as though they only joined him for Sunday tea. Phyron, black eyes twinkling, winked at them from behind his Master's seat.
"Yes."
"And you wish his release?"
"And the children!" Finnuala interrupted.
"The children, of course. Just tell us your plan…how you were to defeat us. Show us this dream shard. We would not wish to be jeopardized in the future." Vero had not lied about Orn’s curious nature. "Vero must be stopped."
They stood subject before Orn, wondering how to proceed as the other Daha'et gathered around. Rhan inched his way to Ahlisha's side. "What makes you think we had one? Perhaps Vero was our plan."
"I think not. Didn't Vero tell you he won't - can't kill me? Powerful or no. Masterhand or no." Orn kept his own panic well tucked away. What if Vero, as Orn himself, no longer believed or cared what the doctrine of the Word allowed?
"And that position should be yours?" Rhan asked sympathetically, ignoring Taoe's startled look.
"Of course, you've no idea." Orn's eyes narrowed. "Nice try. The plan?"
"Ask Sham," Rhan shouted, directing rage blackened, fierce eyes at his once friend, who only smirked in return.
"I'll tell you," a cold, high voice thundered across the stone room.
"Ah, Vero, my brother. What will you tell us?"
"I'll tell you, my brother, that I am Masterhand. I will tell you that we are damned. Rhan, I have placed a ward on you all. Now! We might never have another chance!"
Rhan, after tossing Lka away from him, grabbed Ahlisha's hands and closed his eyes, his mind screaming and flinging about frantically for the answer.
"Calm, Thoughtmaster," a soothing voice spoke through the confusion. "The souls are ready. Place the stone in your left ear and call them to your command. Direct their power through Ahlisha at Orn and the others. Orn first, if you can.
. "But Thasa," Rhan argued, not even questioning how the Ghenosh was hailing him. "Ahlisha…."
"Do it!"
Rhan could hear the battle surrounding him as he pulled the pouch from his waist, fumbling and nearly dropping it when he opened the clear, hard shell before removing the drab stone. He nearly dropped it again as he felt it grow wet and soft in his hand. He placed it carefully in his ear and, willing himself to calm, allowed it to imbed itself deeply into the canal. A thunderous humming filled his mind. To its beat he began to call the souls to his aid, their names imprinted on his brain. He wondered, unconsciously, how long Vero's ward would protect them.
Taoe, his falcon screeching above him, distracting their enemies, had run to free a pen that held two Da’liesh who would not join the ranks of the Daha'et. The warrior and his bird fought side by side with the two men, inflicting sword wounds that would not kill any but the mercenaries who suddenly entered the fray from another corridor.
Taoe let out a hiss of relief from amidst the battle when he realized Phyron would not join - yet. Perhaps there was not enough manoeuvering room for the big red, though he could certainly fry them all with his fire. Who knew what lay in the beast's mind? maybe its fire could rebound back and burn the dragon himself? Maybe he was simply a coward?
Phyron himself thought of Vheap's muttered words about a stone. Perhaps, he realized in hindsight, he should have mentioned it to Orn. But, he would not interfere in this battle. Were the Daha'et to lose, he was still in with the Assembly and could continue as things had been before. He sighed, thinking what a long life it was turning out to be. Despite his bulk and power, Phyron was at heart, a coward. Lka’s voice suffused his mind and he cringed in true fear. "You are known, and marked, Dragon."
Vero fought on his own, his tremendous power rocking the cavern and engaging the Daha’et. He had, with the wave of a hand, called up a puissant vortex to suck up the wraiths. He had opened a worm hole, an empty void in the passage of time which allowed him to call the souls of his own world to him. These souls were the means with which to kill the Daha'et who fought in vain to break the ward placed over Vero's companions.
Vero watched sadly as the shadows of his dead passed through the barrier to join in the attack. He could hear the Conclave calling them back, the words of Damnation.
Wiping his tears away, he wondered how he was any better than his brother, though the last of the souls to come bowed respectfully to the Masterhand, before he, like the others, entered Vero and prepared for battle.
Placing his right hand, conduit to the Thamosian souls, in front of the Daha'et, he squeezed it into a tight fist, pressing out the dark energy, sucking their strength until the once black forms glowed pure white and the swirling vortex could claim them. He knew the poor souls writhing within their captors would be obliterated. They would cease to exist on any plane.
Vero's ward was holding and the companions, so far, remained alive.
The other two Da’liesh cast fireballs, fogs, whirlwinds, anything to slow the Daha'et, mercenaries, and wraiths until Vero, or Rhan's power, could get to them. They could see Orn, a slight sardonic smile tugging at his thin lips, waiting patiently for his brother's wrath to turn on him. For a moment, his likeness to Vero was exact, then the face shifted once more.
Suddenly, a dazzling, yellow light filled the room, emitting from Ahlisha's frail body, seeming to fire from every pore. It flew a graceful arc in every direction with the main shaft aimed at Orn, seeking out and striking any Daha'et it could find. It fought soul against soul, black to white. The living energy of Ahlisha’s pure souls inhaled the dark vapors that kept the Daha'et alive, leaving the last of them only piles of ash upon the cold stone floor. Rhan and Ahlisha watched helplessly as the shadows of bereft souls, once bound, floated to freedom then dissipated in the vortex, along with those sent to destroy them. The wraiths tried futilely to flee.
The fiercest light source plowed at last into Orn, with his brother pinned before him, pummeling him with black shafts of burning flame. Orn knew Vero was weakening. He had bided his time until this would be the case. His own breath was coming in sobs, his body growing weak as Ahlisha’s light pulled the energy from him. But Orn was more powerful than any of the Daha'et, and with a flick of his wrist, he shattered the souls that pierced him. Vero would be his. His death would be by Orn's hand, a murder that he believed might possibly destroy Thamos. Orn no longer cared, for he, was already damned, and if he could not return to his home as ruler, then there was nothing left for him. Thamos might as well be destroyed. He would make sure he took them all with him, if, the Word, were in fact, the truth. Staring at Vero he suddenly knew he had been right. It was not.
Vero, on his knees before Orn, looked up, pleading, into his brother's eyes as an explosion of light cascaded over them. For a miserable moment the tormented Masterhand was sure he had seen understanding and regret in Orn's eyes.
Ahlisha screamed and fell to the ground among the dead, dying and small piles of gray ash that had not been sucked up in the flagging vortex. No one but Lka noticed Phyron slip from the chamber.
"Ahlisha!" Rhan grabbed her hands realizing they, like her entire body were burned black. He gagged as her silver skin came off in his grip. "Ahlisha," he stared despondently into her empty eyes where death, ducking and hiding among the crevasses and curves of her face like the thief he was, stalked her soul.
"No," Taoe screamed, slapping Rhan's head away. The stone fell from his ear to the ground with a plinking sound. "Don't look into her eyes! Ask Vero to forgive me. I know, after all, what it is to have a brother."
The big warrior leaned over and peered into Ahlisha's eyes himself, to glimpse her departing soul. "Take me instead," he begged Soulstealer while her soul still hovered in the balance. Rhan, sobbing at her side, was unaware, until too late, of the trade taking place on his behalf. Rhawan's piercing cries brought him to awareness.
"No!" Rhan sprang to his feet, pulling at Taoe, but it was too late, the big man slumped across Ahlisha's still form. He was gone and Soulstealer had helped again in his own small way.
Vero gazed around him, glassy eyed, from his kneeling position. "Is Orn dead? Did we kill him?"
"He's dead. Ahlisha killed him," Rhan croaked hoarsely. The Da’liesh looked about, eyes glassy with grief and weariness. All were dead but him, Vero, Lka, Finnuala and the captives, who remained in their pens. Then, he saw Ahlisha stir. "Oh, Taoe," he sobbed into his hands.
"Rhan!" Finnuala’s voice finally reached through the haze of his mind, panicking as Raece led her, crawling, to his side. "Ahlisha, I heard her scream. I've been trying to find her, where is she and Taoe?"
"Taoe's gone. He traded his life for Ahlisha's. She needs you now." Rhan carefully placed Rhawan, who was hopping around on Taoe's back, on his own shoulder and pulled Taoe's body from Ahlisha's, cradling him momentarily before leaving Finnuala with Ahlisha and crawling over to Vero. The living came first. He could hear the hysterical shouts coming from the pen area where the petrified captives panicked. "Are you all right?"
"Weak. Orn is dead, dead not by me. Dead. I can go home. He’s dead." He began to sob and Rhan held him, not knowing what else to do. "Twins, did you know we were twins? That is why I could never kill him. Ap'alean's are always twins, forced to choose the Masterhand. Damned, do you see, same blood, same...God's law...but we were wrong...only tales...." He sobbed, then cried miserably. "I have twins but one is a girl. What God is so cruel?"
"No, I did not know. I'm sorry Vero." And Rhan found he truly was. He had lost a brother too on that day.
When Ahlisha sat up, he could not help but give a whoop of joy while awkwardly patting Vero's heaving back.
"Taoe," she cried, shaking the big man. "Taoe."
Finnuala took Ahlisha’s hands in her own. "He's gone, Fingal," she said as gently as she could.
"I saw him. I saw him. He rescued me. Oh, Taoe, why?"
Finnuala smiled through her tears. "Because he loved you, and Rhan."
Ahlisha stared at Rhan, who was still holding Vero. "Oh, Rhan."
"They're all dead," he answered miserably. "Finnuala, can you take Vero and ease his grief? Will you have enough left for the Wakhanee after Ahlisha? I must go open the pens, my Da...."
"Of course. Do not fear, Rhan. I grow stronger with each day. I feel I could heal several, even an army now before I weakened." Her voice was awed. "It is a great gift I was chosen for." She began to croon softly to Vero as Rhan moved toward the captives, picking up Lka and the hardened stone on his way. He could feel Rhawan's grieving, trembling body against his neck and nearly lost control himself.
The grateful captives swelled into the cavern, taking up a hale chant of Rhan, Vero, Taoe, and Ahlisha's names, led by a grieving Yhisc, who had already seen Taoe's still form. Lugh, who though terrified, had watched the entire battle, stepped forward and offered to lead the captives to freedom. He could not lead his new friends to the Wakhanee, but he wished to help.
Vero stood shakily and moved to stand by Lugh, who came only to his waist. Wrapping an arm around him tightly, he told them all of how Lugh had pulled him to safety and led him to the others in time to help. Lugh was a hero. A wild cheer went up for the little man, and he marched his followers from the cavern with pride making him as tall in stature as Rhan. Only then, in the empty room, did Rhan himself notice the dragon was gone.

FIFTY TWO

After the milling, thankful masses had departed, carrying Taoe's poor body, along with those of the two Da’liesh, Rhan studied the map. The mercenaries were left to rot.
He told Vero to stay behind, resting, but the Masterhand refused. Facing Rhan with a tear stained, swollen face, he said he wished to meet the Wakhanee. Rhan turned away from him with a shrug, his loss of Taoe still burning within him. Vero's part in it all cut deeply. He had not told Vero of Taoe's last words. He was not ready. He could not forgive. He needed someone to direct his unassauged rage toward and Vero was the perfect target. The Masterhand could feel Rhan’s fury but did nothing to soften it. He believed it was his to take.
They headed east down a long, dank corridor that yawned uninvitingly before them, with only Lka's small light to guide them. According to the map, they need only go straight east, then take a sharp turn north into the very heart of the range. In the dimness, they did not notice the shifting of the corridor walls that seemed to change their course ever so subtly. Lka, eyes large and luminous, did not speak.
They walked for what seemed endless hours, exhausted, relieved and saddened all at once. Vero stumbled along in their wake, his thoughts immortalizing the face of his brother before his true death, before the Daha'et..remembering their youth, promises and lives. His mind wandered back to the look of sudden understanding, then regret on Orn's face, and his heart trembled. So many things must change when he returned---the Word, the misunderstandings and half truths.
Rhan marched with head high, heart filled with pride and remorse, grief for Taoe. That the warrior had loved them so deeply he could hardly face. That he had offered him a start at a new life, a real life with Ahlisha, was obvious. Oh Taoe, his heart ached.
Ahlisha walked hand in hand with Finnuala, her eyes on Rhan. Her heart also ached at Rhan’s loss, and her own but leapt at their freedom, the possible future. She felt Finnuala's warm fingers entwined with her own and a terrible guilty grief swelled her chest. This woman, Ahlisha now understood, loved her as Rhan did, but she could not return that love the way Finnuala needed. She squeezed the older woman's hand and whispered, "I will always be your friend and love you."
"Do not mourn for me, Ahlisha. I’ll be fine and I will hold you in my heart always. I have been given a great gift. I understand that it's for me alone, and Raece, to carry its burden. There can be no one for me. I think I was afraid of being alone, not anymore. I have the Wakhanee. I have Raece. Let Rhan take good care of you, and your children when they come."
Ahlisha could hear the truth in her words and her heart eased.
Finnuala knew that she had a good future and felt deeply indebted to the Wakhanee for her gift, but she knew also she must face it alone. She knew now what she must do, was meant to do, from the beginning. She would become the first female Priestess of the Wakhanee. She would spread their word, and through them that of the True Master, through her love and healing. Her heart still ached a little for the things she would never know, but she had Raece, and her friends, and the Wakhanee.
Vero inched up beside Ahlisha and tugged at her arm. He needed to talk, to free himself of the images burned in his mind. Orn was dead.
Ahlisha turned and smiled at him.
"Tell me," he whispered, "do you miss your family?"
Ahlisha, momentarily frozen by the torment in Vero's eyes, cleared her throat and said, "Very much."
"Me too."
Finnuala reached around behind Ahlisha and grabbed Vero's hand. "When we are done here, tell us of Orn and your family, the way it was." The Masterhand pressed her hand gratefully.
"Shhh," Rhan came to a sudden halt, and the others closed in tightly behind him. There, before them, lay five deep lava pits. The earth was alive, bubbling, burping, and groaning around them. There also, lay the Wakhanee, their circles broken and lifeless.
"We're here," Rhan whispered, his voice hushed even more by the heated air. "They're so, strange."
"The heat….and the stench." Ahlisha moaned.
"Yes, I don't think it's safe for us to breath the air down there." After calling Raece in close, Rhan called on his power, and cloaked them in his protection, surrounding them with a bubble of air. "Now - go carefully. We must stay close together for the coverlet to work. I am weary and weaker than I’d like to be. I'll lead Finnuala." The calling of the souls, though he didn't know why, had not taken as much of his power as sorcery did, but he was weakened, emotionally, and physically. He gripped the pouch, which held the stone, and was strengthened by it’s presence.
They scrambled down the side of the rock wall to the pits below. Rhan did his best to hold onto Finnuala, but it was difficult. Twice, she fell, careening down the jagged rock to thump on a ridge, Raece in hot pursuit. The look the dog flashed Rhan was not kind. Both were choking on the foul gasses by the time Rhan reached them, covering them again with his protection. Vero was capable of little else but following.
Battered and bloodied, they finally made the base. "Take deep, slow breaths," Rhan warned.
Moving carefully around the holes of simmering, burping lava, Rhan led Finnuala to each circle of Wakhanee, fighting the resolute grip of the intense heat. Raece, panting and drooling, worked feverishly by Finnuala's side as the healer reached out and mended the damage of the Daha'et, her own power growing with the Wakhanee's.
Vero watched in silence, his grief tangible, his relief overpowering….to see these strange beings who had started him on his quest, to know his God had made them.
The healer began to weaken as she reached the heart, her hands shaking, head slumping. Raece licked her face, whining pathetically until Ahlisha knelt at her side. Taking Finnuala's hands, she placed them on the site the dog led them to and squeezed. "Let me support you, Nuala. Use my strength."
The healer sighed and closed her eyes, then slumped to the ground unconscious as the last of the Wakhanee were raised. The rescuers were awed by the appearance of the toad-like creatures.
The squat beings circled the group, croaking their praise and gratitude, then cried, "Destroy the stone!"
Rhan removed the stone from his pouch and turned it over in the palm of his hand as though studying it. It felt warm and comforting. Such a waste to destroy such a powerful object, but he knew it must be done. He wished to know more of it, the truth of it and his beginnings. Perhaps Vheap could answer, though somehow he seemed to know that was not possible. He felt his heart constrict painfully. So many dead.
"Destroy it!"
He glanced up at the Wakhanee and asked, "Will you not tell me of it? What it is to the beginning of time, to Dlrow? Am I not owed that much?"
"It is not for the ears of mortal men to hear. Do not let it seduce you. Now, destroy it. Your payment is in the release of your world."
Sighing, he lifted his arm into the air, and threw the stone into the center lava pit. His arm felt heavy and he could not believe how difficult a task it had been. It sank silently out of sight, with only they, and the Ghenosh, far away, who bowed their heads in grief to mourn its loss.
"We will put all to right now," the Wakhanee cried in unison. "Your prayers have made us strong. Spread our word and through us that of the True Master. We work for you, His children."
The little creatures all turned to stare at Vero. "You may return home now. The True Master is sorry, but this was yours to repair, Masterhand - to learn- to relearn lessons lost- to better understand the Word-- to know the truth. We thank you for your courage and aid."
Vero nodded, his eyes burning, but did not speak.
"You are all weak, and tired. We will send you on your way. The avenue long, the rest needed. Forget the path here," they chanted as their visitors eyes closed, "go in peace. Walk heeding in our words. Hold protectively the Kesh, Guardians of the Children and Knowledge of the Master. The healer knows what she must do." The voices cosseted them while a server easily pulled the book containing the map from Rhan's clenched fist just before he lost consciousness.
"You have done well, Lka. Your kind will remain always in high esteem." Lka bowed low, listening in awe to the shushing noises of the corridor walls returning to their original positions as they drifted weightlessly away from the Wakhanee who would never make the mistake of being found again. Rhawan trembled but did not cry out. Their companions slept on, unaware.

FIFTY THREE

They awoke groggy and still sleepy, outside the gates of Eldercity in the late afternoon three days later, unaware that any time had passed. Their bodies were whole and rested. Their grief and anger eased. Fiona was leaning over them. "Ah, Eldercity," Rhan sighed with relief.
Gazing around, Rhan found the area that surrounded the city still bore the marks of it's trauma but already green growth was springing up defiantly, despite the whispers of approaching fall on the breeze. The sky above was boringly normal, the sun a brilliant ball in an arc of blazing blue filmed by gauzy clouds.
Fiona, sensing their need for silence and reflection, led them quietly into the city. Rhan grinned, his eyes on the inhabitants, whose hearts appeared much eased. The streets danced with life, and vibrated with sound.
She guided them to the council gardens where Taoe and the bodies of the Da’liesh were arrayed in the fashion of heroes. Crowds had gathered near to lament the loss of such champions. Word of their success had passed through Ourshare quickly. The throng parted silently, however, once Rhan and his companions reached the open caskets, their names whispered reverently from tongue to tongue. "We've awaited your return to hold the funeral."
Rhan tried to clear his tightening throat. "Thank you…I had wanted to take them home, to the sea but...." His eyes filled with tears as he remembered the haunting spirits of the sea, and those forever lost in the battle.
"There is not time, Rhan. It's been days… their bodies,"
"I know," he interrupted, unable to hear the word decay. "They will lie well here." Then he glanced at the others with surprise at the time that had elapsed. His companions smiled and shrugged.
"We will plant an oak over the heart of each in honor of their bravery."
"Thank you, Fiona…..You know, Celinder is gone."
Fiona nodded. "Her body was found. I had it brought here. The Assembly's been informed."
"She saved our lives." The elderly Wisewoman smiled proudly, wiping at fat tears that dribbled from small eyes furrowed within ever deepening creases.
"Vheap is also gone, Rhan. When he was found, he said to tell you he had not betrayed your secret." Rhan passed a hand over his eyes. He had already felt Vheap’s loss.
She lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Rest now. In the morning we will lay these to rest. What of you?" She turned to Vero.
"I will stay for the funeral, then I must be on my way. My own will be waiting for my return."
Fiona nodded.
"The others…They arrived safe? My father?" Rhan asked.
Fiona smiled. "Yes, Lugh brought them all in by boat. Now that the Highcrest has settled, your father decided to go home to await your return, claiming the fatigue of an old man. He took Lugh with him, declaring he had stories to write and needed someone to help him."
Rhan laughed at the action so like his father. His mother's face burned before his eyes and he gasped, but this time he felt none of the grief, only joy. She would be proud of her son.
"I hope the Vhari'ni realize what a hero they have in that one," Vero commented.
Fiona shrugged and smiled wistfully. "Unlikely. His disobedience will be viewed with distaste but, they might come around."
Vero shook his head.
They spent the evening relaxing near the hearth of a blazing fire, sipping a heady brew of warm wine. Finnuala, as promised, had taken Vero's hand and invited him to tell them of his brother, and his own family. It had touched the Masterhand deeply, and he had done so with alacrity as though purging himself of all that had been. When he recalled the tales of Orn's youthful impish ways and the delights of his own wife and children, he felt free of all that had taken place. The others had followed suit with tales and memories of their own, leaving them all fiercely missing those they loved, but feeling cleansed. Rhan talked long into the night on the exploits of Taoe.
The sun rose strong, radiant the next morn. It was a fine day for a funeral. Rhan, who had not yet spoken Taoe's eulogy, stood looking down at the pine box that covered his friend's once merry face. He could not bring himself to toss the first dirt that would forever bury his friend from his view.
Taoe's still form lay with the two Da’liesh, deep in the ground of the ancient Wakhanee temple. The entire city, and many from afar, had arrived enmasse for the service. They parted in awe, however, to allow the passage of two Quixh and a Ghenosh.
Reaching Rhan's side as he finally tossed the dirt on Taoe's coffin, Pahx, ruler of the Quixh, grasped his hand and spoke gratefully. "The daughter is well." The Quixh woman bowed regally. "It is time for us all to become one until our watch here is done. We are all just different forms of man. Our ways will never again be closed to you. We are sorry for your loss." Paxh stepped aside for Thasa.
"We the Ghenosh," Thasa said quietly, "are the same, for so long as we are here. The Vhari'ni, thanks to Lugh, will come around, do not fear. The Hch'ape are of no consequence. Their time is nearly done."
Rhan nodded but could not help smiling as he thought of the offensive Bauk, who had plagued his life in the mine. He stared deep into Thasa’s eyes, allowing the Ghenosh to feel his gratitude, and the acknowledgement of the aid he had given him. Without Thasa’s guidance he would never have understood the stone.
When Thasa and Paxh stepped down from the platform, an elated cheer went up from the gathered crowd who stood outside the once abandoned Wakhanee temple.
When the city’s finest bard stepped up to the podium, silence descended on the crowd. They awaited the melancholy sounds with open hearts. Rhan bowed his head and listened, his heart aching. Vero allowed his tears to fall freely.
When the bard had finished, the last strains of his song fluttering in the warm breeze, Rhan spoke lovingly of Taoe and of the bravery of the two Da’liesh. He recounted for the somber crowd the entire tale, start to finish. He spoke in awe of Taoe's sacrifice, of his love for Rhan and his world. He spoke of all those who had aided them along the way, especially Celinder. He spoke of Ahlisha's bravery and strength, and of the dead who had given up eternity for the people of Dlrow, including those of Thamosian decent. He did not speak of the stone.
He spoke of the Da’liesh and warriors who had battled for their land quietly, not expecting praise. He recalled the many times Finnuala and Raece had saved his life and others along the way. He spoke of both his father and Lka with pride, and of Rhawan and his grief. The bird still trembled against his neck and Rhan refused to leave it alone. He spoke of Lugh, calling him the greatest of heroes. Lastly, he spoke at length of Vero.
The Masterhand stood tall, proud, willing to accept the accusation in the eyes of some, the praise and awe in the eyes of others, though the fear hurt. He did not speak but, glancing first at Rhan, was the second to toss dirt on the open graves. Together, under the heat of the late summer's sun, Rhan and Vero began to fill in the graves while Ahlisha led Finnuala to the podium.
She told them of her gift from the Wakhanee and of the new order she was forming, of the great task of spreading the word of the Wakhanee all across Dlrow. After the service, the line of those wishing to join her ran the length of the entire street, and she could not hide her tears of pride and delight.
Once the crowds slowly cleared, Rhan, Vero and Ahlisha were left alone by the graves. Finnuala, led by Raece and Fiona, went to greet her new apostles.
"I'm sorry, Taoe," Rhan squatted over the grave, patting the earth around the tiny oak, "forgive me, brother of my heart. I let you die." Rhawan dropped from Rhan's shoulder and began to claw frantically at the dirt mound. Only Lka's soothing voice seemed to calm the falcon.
Vero laid a slender hand on Rhan's shoulder. "It's not your fault, Rhan. You are a good man." He smiled at the Da’liesh, leaning on his shovel, feeling the pride in the strength it had taken to cover the graves. He had learned much to his good on this barbaric world.
"I killed him by my actions, Vero, and that makes me twice a murderer." The long ago words of Fiona echoed in his mind. "Murder is always wrong. Maybe I saw what Taoe was doing and wanted him to do it. I wanted Ahlisha to live."
"No. He chose, Rhan."
"It's so hard to say good bye."
"He wanted this for you - Ahlisha." Vero pulled Rhan to his feet and joined his and Ahlisha's hands. "Go on - be together."
"Would you take me as I am, what I am?" Rhan asked her quietly, his gaze straying to Taoe's grave. For Taoe and for himself he would give all he was to this woman.
"If you will take me as I am, what I am."
"I will try," Rhan promised. It was the best he could do.
Ahlisha grinned, and her laughter sprinkled and tickled the day like confetti at a wedding, lightening his heart. She knew that offer was much for Rhan. "I will try too," she answered softly as he took her in his arms.
Vero moved away and detached a small pouch from his pack. A Time Rider suddenly appeared, glistening under the sun. "It is time I went home to my friends and family. Leave the other Riders hidden in the mountain. The Wakhanee will protect them." Vero could not bear to destroy them as well, but he did not want them returned.
Rhan nodded and gripped the Outsider tightly in a hug. "Farewell, my friend. You have earned a place of honor among us." He looked down, hesitating, then faced Vero square. "Taoe told me to ask for your forgiveness, said he understood what it is….to have a brother. I could not tell you before. Those, were his last words."
Vero looked back at the grave and tried to compose himself, his heart thudding. "No, Rhan, honor is an undeserved reward for me, as are Taoe's words, but I am glad to hear them. Taoe taught me much, and I hope to repay him, and you, by changing myself, my world so that this may never happen again. Good bye my friends. Goodbye Orn," he called quietly to the wind, his eyes lingering on Taoe's falcon, still perched on the man's grave. The bird's somber eyes stared back, the ache of its heart mimicking Vero's own.
"Wait," Rhan called as Vero mounted the metallic beast. "Take him. Taoe would want it." Vero looked away and swiped at his eyes.
"Could he survive the journey?"
Vero's eyes lit up. "He could, but what would I feed him?"
"Let him hunt, Vero. You do not need to."
"Yes, yes. Thank you, Rhan, Ahlisha and Taoe." He bowed his head to the grave. "Farewell, Finnuala, Raece, Fiona," he called as the creature sprang toward the sky, the falcon buried in Vero's arms.
Finnuala looked up, waving, she hoped, in the right direction. Raece barked madly as Vero circled once to the cheers of the decimated, but exuberant, citizens then departed.
A sudden thud nearby sent both Rhan and Ahlisha whirling. "What the…?"
A large red dragon lay panting and bleeding in the center of the city.
"What should be done with him, Phyron the traitor?" A gravely voice called.
Rhan turned to Fiona, who had come up beside him, then spoke. "I recognize him. He was with Orn, at the end, but escaped." Rhan studied the creature a moment, ignoring the malevolent glare that its heated eyes sent his way, daring Rhan to kill him. "Make him work. There's been enough killing. Fiona?"
She nodded. "Good."
The large black dragon who had dropped Phyron laughed, then kicked the big red. "And you thought you'd get out of this through death. Don't worry about him, his fire’s been put out. The Assembly will take care of the rogues, finally," he added knowing how slow the decision process was in his kind. "Where is Celinder's body? We wish to pay our respects."
"I will show you," Fiona said. She led the dragon and his companions toward the large grave she had placed Celinder, one of the few impatient dragons, in, the grave in which lay her best friend.
Rhan watched them go, then turned back to Ahlisha and smiled. "Home?"
"Home," she agreed, her gaze still lingering on Taoe's grave. Thank you.
Rhan himself stared off toward the mountains and thought only once of Sham. He had made his choice and it had been, like many others, the wrong one. It was over.

- The end