Hey everyone. So I tried writing a character I haven't done yet, and I hope I got it right! If not, feel free to let me know! Thanks for reading.

Chapter Eleven

Maerad was seated in the garden, watching a few birds flitting through the air. She noticed a particularly blue one, its song trilling and soft, and she followed it for some time. The other birds seemed to avoid the blue one, giving it a wide breadth, and it dove and rose in the air, performing more and more daring feats, as if trying to convince the other birds to join it. They obstinately refused to play along and the blue bird trilled desperately. Maerad watched it.

So alone, she thought, her eyes following the bird's areal display. You're alone, and no one wants you. It hit too close to home for Maerad, and she reached out her hand and whistled. The bird circled once and fell to the earth like a comet.

It landed in her palm and hopped onto her wrist. "You're beautiful, you know that?" Maerad asked the bird. "I made you and you are beautiful."

The bird chirped in response and Maerad smiled at it. I used the Song to make you and it made you the loveliest bird of all. You should not be ashamed of what you are.

If the bird understood her, she didn't know. It sang for her and Maerad smiled. "You and I are the most perfect flowers in all of Annar. We will remember this." In the distance, she heard the sound of the door to her room opening. Cadvan was here. "We will be the loveliest, and there will be no one to challenge us."

The bird tweeted and Maerad turned her head, looking over her shoulder, waiting for Cadvan to see her. Come and see me here, looking perfectly at home in my garden. Come and see me and know that you love me.

She heard Cadvan's footsteps on the ground and she smiled ever so slightly at the sound of his voice. "And have you been practicing your writing and reading, miss Maerad?"

"Should I have been?" she asked sweetly. She turned her head a little, following Cadvan's progression with her eyes. "I thought it would be rude, working without you when we had agreed to study together."

Cadvan smiled just a little at her and took the seat opposite her. "A little work never goes amiss. And who is this?" he asked, gesturing to the bird.

"Don't you recognize him?" asked Maerad playfully. "The bird I made from water. He's grown quite a lot since I last saw him."

Cadvan eyed the bird and was reminded again of the fact that Maerad had used the Song to make a living creature. He was reminded of her power. "Just as stunning as before."

"Stunning." Maerad flicked her wrist and the bird took flight. "They are bringing back the prisoners from Thorold today."

"Are they?" Cadvan wondered. "What is to become of the Bards?"

"They will go down to the Barracks I should think." She pursed her lips. "The First Bard must go before the Lord of the Light."

"Nerili?" Cadvan asked sharply, drawing Maerad's attention. "What will happen to her?"

Maerad shrugged delicately. "I wouldn't know. I would think the Lord of Light will question her and then send her away somewhere."

Don't make her jealous. "She is a friend of mine and Silvia's. Perhaps she could stay with us?"

"I didn't think Silvia knew her," Maerad said curiously.

She doesn't. "She is on the First Circle of Innail. Of course she and Nerili were familiar with each other."

Maerad hummed. "I will speak to the Lord of Light if it's so important to you."

"I would be grateful," he demurred, and then turned his attention to the garden. "Do you want to walk before we head back inside? I spend so little time in your garden."

"You'll spend more," she said, rising up onto her feet and surveying her land. "It's where I keep the things that matter."

I'm not a thing, Cadvan wanted to say, but he held himself in check. "I'm sure they're fortunate to be kept here."

Cadvan offered Maerad his arm and they strolled off. "If I asked you to stay, would you?" Maerad wondered, gazing at a budding flower. "If I asked you to stay here, would you?"

Cadvan's eyes widened. "I don't think I can."

"Not now, but there will come a time when my word is law, and when that time comes, I want to know where we stand." Maerad's voice was hard, but Cadvan knew this was a subject close to her heart.

He turned her gently so she was facing him; delicately, as if to give her all the time in the world to pull away, he leaned down and kissed her on the lips. It was the merest brush, and he wanted more, but Maerad seemed to hum with pleasure. "If I could, I would stay here now. There's nothing more I want."

"You would forsake your friends?" she asked absently. "Malgorn and Silvia? You would never wish to see the world again?"

It hadn't occurred to Cadvan that this was what Maerad meant. His gaze swept the garden and he knew it was lovely, but there was something about it that just wasn't right. It seemed as if the entire place were dreamlike. But dreamlike in the sense that it wasn't real. Life was blossoming here, but it was trapped, it was manufactured, it was fake. He couldn't imagine this place as his home.

"I think I would miss them, but if I were to have to choose between this place and you and them, I would pick you." The lie tasted bad in Cadvan's mouth. "This world you have created is…beautiful."

"Stunning," Maerad repeated wryly. She was quiet for a while and they walked on. Cadvan thought she was thinking of something very important and very difficult, and he wanted to ask her what, but he also suspected she would not answer him.

"Do you plan to make the world like this?" he asked.

"Not especially," said Maerad lazily. "This garden…this is mine. I made it for me and Hem and the people I think deserve it. It's not meant for everyone to enjoy."

"Then what will become of Annar?" asked Cadvan confusedly. "Are you going to leave it to its own devices?"

"No," she said slowly. "No, I will see it ruled properly, but I will not permit those unworthy of it to live in my world. I think I will live apart, like Ardina did. Her forest was the most beautiful place I ever visited, and I shall have a kingdom of equal glory."

Before he stopped himself, Cadvan said, "I had a dream of Ardina."

Maerad stopped. "What did she say?"

"Nothing," Cadvan answered quickly. "I was walking in a silver wood, and I saw her in the distance. She smiled at me."

"Strange," Maerad said softly. "I have not dreamed of her at all. She has left me, it seems."

"Have you called her on the pipes?" he asked.

"She will not answer now. She cannot bear the Song, I think." Maerad smiled bitterly. "She loves it and hates it, and she will not come near me while it lives within my blood. Now, even the Elementals will flee from me."

She said this with her chin lifted proudly, but Cadvan perceived a deep sadness in her. "We won't flee from you. I won't leave you."

It was the right thing to say. Maerad turned to face him and her eyes were glowing with a soft, uncertain light, the kind the true Maerad often had. She looked tragically heartbroken. "You won't ever?"

Cadvan squeezed her hand tightly. "Why would I bother? What more could I find than here?"

Maerad smiled and allowed Cadvan to run his hand through her hair. She shivered with pleasure at his touch and allowed herself to relax. "I don't know what you might want."

"This is what I want," he said again, and he meant it.

Maerad bowed her head and they carried on; they took their time, pausing here and there, admiring the flowers in the garden. It seemed like the garden was more beautiful that day, as if it was tuned to Maerad's mood. There were butterflies fluttering by in the air, like small, floating jewels, song birds warbling sweet songs, rabbits and mice, their coats warm chocolate brown. It was like a haven of Light.

"We really should be studying," Cadvan said at length. He saw her press her lips together in annoyance, but she seemed malleable, and allowed Cadvan to lead her to her room.

Hekibel was there, watering a plant, and when she saw Cadvan and Maerad, she glanced between them. Cadvan wondered if maybe she was reporting to Silvia, and he felt a flush of heat in his face when he realized his hand was holding Maerad's.

"Don't bother with that," said Maerad vaguely, seeing Hekibel. "Go see if my brother needs something. Maybe that crow of his could use some more food."

Hekibel performed a low curtsey and hurried from the room. Cadvan watched her go, wondering if she was running off to gossip with Saliman. "Show me your work," he said.

Maerad went to her room and returned with a number of books and a stack of paper. She dumped them unceremoniously on the table and smiled at him challengingly. "It's been rather dull, pouring over old texts alone."

Cadvan leafed through her work; it was actually quite good. "You're improving, Maerad. You'll be a scholar yet."

Maerad smirked. "The last thing I want is to become a stooped, blind old librarian."

Cadvan chuckled, unable to picture Maerad in any way but as the beautiful young woman she was. "I do not think that will be your fate, especially if your writing remains this way."

"Excuse me?" Maerad asked, scandalized, but she was grinning, and she sat down. "Help me, then."

Cadvan sank down beside her and ran his finger along her lines. "It's quite good honestly. But I think you could focus more on the translation of-"

Maerad had moved nearer, and the scent of her hung around them both and Cadvan felt almost light-headed. It was almost like being drunk, and suddenly Cadvan wanted to be back outside in the cool air. She now sat beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm, and he shivered.

"On the translation of what?" Maerad asked softly, not taking her eyes off her work. She was doing it on purpose; if Cadvan wanted her to face him, he would have to arrange that for himself.

Cadvan pressed his lips together. "The different languages. Not all words in Annarian have a direct translation in the Suderain."

"How do you mean?" she asked sweetly, toying with a quill.

Cadvan reached out for the quill and Maerad brushed her hand against his palm when she gave it to him. "I mean," said Cadvan, admiring his view of her face, "that not all words mean the same thing, or even translate. Some words simply don't exist in languages."

"How? How can a word be something in one language and not in another? We use language to express ideas; it's not as if an idea simply doesn't exist in a different culture."

"Maybe it means something different," Cadvan suggested bleakly, overcome by the memory of his dream of Ardina. She had said that love could free Maerad, but love meant two very different things to him and Maerad. She thought love was possession, he knew love was something very different. "Maybe some things just aren't the same?"

"No," said Maerad suddenly, and her voice had taken on a cold quality. "How can anything be that but what it is?"

Cadvan sensed her disquiet. "Perhaps it is not something completely different, but-"

"Everything has a name, and that name is the truth. If you are not your name, you are liar." Maerad straightened her back and Cadvan wondered if she was thinking of the time, long ago, when he had called her by her true name and she had flinched from it. What did that mean?

She is no longer the Fire Lily, Cadvan mused, so she is lying. Cadvan decided he didn't want to broach the subject. "Liar is such a hard word," Cadvan said instead. "Do we always know when we're lying?"

Maerad's smile was twisted. "No…no I suppose we don't." She gave up toying with him and looked into Cadvan's eyes. "Do you think I'm a lair? Inka Reb called me one once. He said I lied to myself."

"I think…" Cadvan could almost feel Maerad's anger now, and he pulled away from it. "I think perhaps his definition of liar if different from our own, he just doesn't have another word for it yet."

For a moment, Maerad held his gaze, and he swore he could sense the Song, burning in her, but then she tossed her head back and laughed. "And so we've come full circle. You are right again, Cadvan! Some words really do only exist in one language."

Cadvan chucked, relieved. "Would that we could learn them all."

Afterward, they toiled sometime over Maerad's work. Cadvan wanted her to complete a few pages and Maerad wasn't keen on it. When he threatened to spend the rest of his day doing nothing but reading, she gave up and scribbled away. With that done, Maerad called for Hem to come join them, and he came, trailing Hekibel, Irc, and Saliman.

"I want lunch," said Hem decisively. "I've been reading myself into a coma and need food to wake up."

Irc, seated on Hekibel's wrist cried, Food! Fresh meat and wine! I'm hungry. I've spent all morning in the garden looking for treasures.

If you hadn't been pilfering, you wouldn't be so tired, Saliman said dryly. What did you steal when our backs were turned?

Irc looked affronted. I don't steal. I rescue unwanted things.

I suppose that gilt bracelet I found in your cage was unwanted? Saliman observed.

If they wanted it, why drop it? Irc asked smartly, and then took flight and landed comfortably on Hem's shoulder.

"That crow is getting too smart for his own good," Saliman said to Hekibel.

"Well, at least you got him to shut up," said Maerad tiredly. "The racket he made…Ah well, food then?"

Hekibel said, "I'll send for lunch and set the table." She seemed keen on staying near Saliman, though, and summoned him to her side as she laid out plates, saying she needed his opinion on the wine.

Maerad watched them a moment, but then smiled smugly. She didn't have to jealous of their love when she clearly had her own. With a sly smile at Cadvan, she deftly took his hand in hers. Cadvan accepted the inevitable-that Saliman would know of their relationship and report it to Silvia-and brushed her lips with a gentle kiss. When he looked up, he saw Saliman's brown eyes widened in polite surprise.

They had lunch, a fun affair, since Cadvan, Saliman, and Hekibel were used to food that even dogs wouldn't eat. Hem, after waking up with a rather bad hang-over, seemed off the Suderian wine, and drank water instead. Irc hopped on the table and snatched up pieces of fish, chirping excitedly. They didn't talk of anything important, and that might have been what made the meal so enjoyable: anything Maerad and Hem found important was bound to be horrible to listen to. Cadvan was half terrified of hearing any more news from Thorold, but part of him knew he should be prepared.

As they finished, an urgent knock came from the door and Maerad scowled. She enjoyed her time with Cadvan, Hekibel, Saliman and Hem the most. "What do you want?" she asked, not turning from her friends, waving the doors open. "I'm in the middle of a meal and don't appreciate the interruption."

Cadvan looked pointedly at Saliman, as if to say, This is what I meant about her.

A man stood on the other side of the door. He was dressed in finery, wore a smug, satisfied look, and had mean little eyes. "My apologies, my lady, but there has been a disturbance in the Barracks. All the Bards are to return at once to their homes."

Maerad placed down her glass of wine. "A disturbance? When?" She still hadn't looked at him, and her face was bored.

The man cast a victorious look at the Bards, as he clearly couldn't see how Maerad felt and believed they were about to be sent away. "Only a few hours ago, my lady. A Bard tried to escape."

"A few hours?" Maerad wondered, running her fingers in circles around the rim of her glass.

"Yes, and it is imperative-"

"Hem?" she said loudly over the soldier. "How early did Cadvan and Saliman begin our lessons today?"

Hem leaned back in his seat, his expression, one of great contemplation. "Oh, very early, I'd think. The sun had just peeked over the trees in the garden."

"Yes, far too early for them to have been involved in an incident that just occurred a few hours ago." She smiled at her brother. "Why, they've been here all morning, haven't they?"

Her tone, let alone her words, had alerted the man. "Well, I'm not saying they were involved but-"

"If it is impossible for them to have been involved, why then should you bother taking them?" she asked sharply, and turned about in her chair so he could see her stormy face. "Why waste your time and breath coming up here to interrupt me, to let me know that some Bard-who I do not know nor care about-has caused a ruckus? Why would you disturb my meal with this nonsense?"

"I didn't mean to disturb you, my lady," he stumbled. "I was sent to collect them."

"Sent by who?" she snapped.

"One of the Hulls, my lady." He looked nervously at Cadvan and Saliman, as if he might call on them for aid.

Maerad blinked and then shot a glance at her brother. "One of the Hulls sent you here, to my room, for my Bards? Specifically?"

"Yes," he stuttered.

Maerad drew a deep breath, her face relaxing into a very secretive look. She clasped her hands in a gesture so characteristic of her manipulative nature now that Cadvan felt a small leaf of nervousness unfurl in his chest. "Do you remember his name?" she wondered.

"N-no, my lady. You know the Hulls have no interest in talking with people."

"No, they do not," agreed Maerad. She pursed her lips, completely blind to the world. "You may take them," she said, waving vaguely at Saliman and Cadvan. "Take them to the Hull who asked for them, and when you do, get his name and return here and tell me."

"At once," said the man, looking relieved. He jerked his chin to Cadvan and Saliman.

Maerad seemed preoccupied and Cadvan wondered what she was thinking, but as he made to leave, a little bitter at her ignorance of him, she caught his wrist. "I wouldn't worry too much, Cadvan. It's all just a ruse."

"A ruse?" he asked.

She smiled toothily. "You'll go now, but never again. I won't have these Hulls challenging me. So just play along with their stupid game for now. We'll win in the long run."

"We will?" he asked pointedly, but Maerad misunderstood him.

She smiled widely and pulled him down so that he might kiss her. In a moment of desperation, he brought his hands up and held her face in his palms, wishing he didn't have to go. She purred against his lips. "We will," she said intimately. "For now, you'll go, but you'll come back, and I'll find this Hull and have it destroyed."

It was such a cold, calculated statement that Cadvan broke the kiss. She raised her eyebrows at him in surprise and he smiled quickly. "Always thinking ahead, aren't you?"

"Someone has to," she said delicately, and then flashed him another smile. "Until tomorrow then."

"We're docking soon," said one of the men who were busy cleaning Nerili's new wounds. She was trembling uncontrollably now, and she had a hard time concentrating on anything. "We'll have to get her fit to ride."

"It's impossible," said the other. "Look at her, she's in no condition but to die." He sounded sad when he said it, and Nerili knew that was the man who had cared for her last time. "They'll have to put her in a cart."

"Enkir will be furious."

"It's Enkir's own fault, isn't it?" demanded the other man. "He's the one who put her like this. If he'd not pleased with his own work, he'll have to take it up with himself. Just clean her up as best you can and try and bind some of wounds. If she dies from blood poisoning, Enkir will take it out on us."

"What you're leaving me here with the witch? Where are you going?" his fellow demanded, sounding worried.

"I'll go tell Enkir that she'll need a cart," he said, and though he sounded positively terrified at the idea of confronting Enkir, Nerili thought she heard a note of conviction in his voice. "Just get her ready for the journey. It's another four days before she can be questioned by the Nameless One."

"She might just die," said the other.

"I'm sure she'd prefer that," said her helper, and then he left.

Nerili was aware of the other man muttering to himself, filling a bucket with water, and dipping a rag in it. After a moment, he grabbed her chin rather tightly and began to clean the cuts on her cheeks. She wanted to scream, but a mouthful of blood came out instead. The man examined the blood, sighed.

"You lost a few teeth," he said, and balled up a cloth and tucked it into her cheek, trying to stem the flow. "Not the front ones, mind, but a few in the back."

Nerili responded with a gurgling noise.

"And your fingers and toes are broken," he said gruffly. "A rib maybe. And you're more blank and blue than anything else now."

I know! Nerili wanted to snarl at him. Of course she knew. She had been awake for every moment of every minute of the torture Enkir had inflicted on her. He had lost all control, and for a while, Nerili was sure he was going to kill her. He had broken her bones, beaten her with anything he could find, even pulled her teeth out. Now, she passed in and out of consciousness, reveling in the few moments when she was unaware of herself, and then crying when she felt the burn of her broken body.

"Why don't you just tell him what he wants?" the man asked angrily, still trying to set a few bones in her hand. "Why do you fight him like that? Why can't you just let him have it?"

Nerili was surprised by how upset he was at her refusal. Normally, tormenters weren't upset about their prisoner's denial, they were furious. They didn't sound so dejected when they spoke to her. She turned her head to the side and used her non-swollen eye to peer at him. His face was scrunched up into a grimace, and she realized he was quite young. Perhaps just come into adulthood.

"Why don't you just let go?" he asked, scrubbing at a burn on her side. "Why do you allow this to happen?"

You just don't understand, she wanted to say. I owe this to my people, I owe this to myself.

"It won't work in the end," he said determinedly, and then lifted her face up so they were on eye level. "You should just stop now while you're still in one piece." He scanned her body. "Mostly."

Nerili tried to smile, grimaced, and then closed her eye. She was aware of the man going back to cleaning her, and she tried to think of Thorold again, but it wouldn't come. She had faint visions of the ocean and the flowers and the mountain reaching skyward, but she could no longer remember the School or the faces of her people. For the first time, Nerili was scared Enkir might have broken something in her.

Eventually, the other man returned, and he knelt down by her side. "We're docking in an hour. Enkir said to cover her up so none of the other prisoners see her and put her in the cart with the books and notes we took from the First Circle." His hand was resting on her dislocated shoulder, and the heat was oddly reassuring against the burning of the tore muscles. "Get that cloak and we'll cover her face."

Nerili felt herself being pulled up into the sitting position and someone wrapped a cloak about her. It was soft and warm, the first comfort she had experienced since leaving Thorold. The man who had been cleaning her pulled the hood down low so no one would see her face, though she doubted anyone would recognize her in the state she was in, and then lifted her up. Her head fell back against his arm and she gurgled at the strain in her neck.

"Careful!" said the other sharply. "She's hurt."

"You think I don't know that?"

"Then have a care, why don't you?" he snapped back. Someone lifted her head up so it rested in the crook of his elbow. "Just because she's a prisoner doesn't mean you should treat her like an animal."

"I'm not!" the other man argued, but his fellow silenced him with a look, and the two moved for the stairs.

Nerili couldn't see through the hood pulled over her face, but she could feel a cool breeze on her face and smell salt in the air. It reminded her faintly of home, but there was something different about the air, something drier and less humid. Something desolate. Nerili was being carried across the deck of a ship, she knew, because she could feel her handler rocking, but suddenly, the ground stopped roiling, and she knew she was on land.

Where? she wondered. Where have I been taken now? She couldn't see, she couldn't smell much, and she had been hit so many times upside the head she thought her ears would never work right again. It doesn't matter where you are, only where you're going. You're going to Den Raven.

"Over here," said one of the men. "This cart."

Nerili was lifted carefully, and she was plunged into darkness again. "One of us should stay with her, make sure she doesn't…"

Make sure she doesn't die? Nerili wondered ironically. I suppose there is that risk.

The man who had cleaned her off said he would find Enkir and tell him she was safely hidden from sight, while the other man stayed behind and kept her from dying. Distant noises floated across Nerili's ears, and she heard harsh screaming, animals braying, terrible broken cries, and the sound of the sea. She focused on that, for it was the only thing left that reminded her of Thorold. She reached out for it like it was a physical thing, but the man holding her gently replaced her against the wall of the cart.

"You need to stay still, or Enkir will have us tie you up," he warned gently. "Just try to relax. I know it's hard, but if you stay still, you won't hurt."

I can't leave, Nerili thought desperately. I can't leave the ocean; it's all I have left. It's all that's left of me now.

"It's going to be alright," said the man, and he patted her head like she was a dog. "You just need to close your eyes and sleep. Try to think of something beautiful. Try to think of something you love."

"I am!" she croaked in a sorry excuse for a voice. It startled the man, who jumped at the sound, but then relaxed again. "I am," she sobbed.

"The ocean?" he asked knowingly. When Nerili jerked her head, he sighed and kissed the crown of her hair. "You'll see the ocean again, I know it. You'll return to these shores."

A cry went up and she heard horses beating their hooves nervously on the ground. The cart jerked to life and Nerili strained herself until she caught the smallest glimpse of blue. "Oh, no," she groaned in a raspy, desolate voice. "No, no."

"Don't do that," said the man swiftly, pulling her back and holding her steady. "You need to stop that now and just relax."

My home, my people, my life. It's gone. Nerili sagged uselessly; even if she wanted to fight, she couldn't. And she didn't want to fight anymore. Nerili wanted to close her eyes and sleep and never wake up. She wanted to let darkness consume her and be nothing, but Enkir had taken even that. Nerili allowed herself to be repositioned for the journey, and the man continued to talk to her, but she closed her good eye and imagined the jolting of the wagon as the rocking of a ship.

But she must have slept, or else she died, because when Nerili opened her eyes, she was back in Thorold. She was sitting, quite alone, in an untamed forest, but in the distance, she saw the shimmering shores of the sea, and above her, she saw the craggy mountain face. The sky was a pristine blue, cloudless, and it too seemed to shimmer and shine. The sunlight fell on her face, dappled with shadow, and she smelled the sweet flowers and the salt of the sea and rich earth.

Home, she thought. I've come home at last.

She sat for a time, on the grassy floor of the wood, and she knew a peace she had not known in a long while. There was no one and nothing to disturb her, no voices in her ears and no cries on the wind; there was birdsong and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. After a time, she opened her eyes and looked around; the forest was emerald green, blazing with life.

But where is everyone? she wondered. Where are my friends, my family, my loves?

"They are not here," said a voice, and it seemed to come from everywhere.

Nerili jumped, but the voice didn't sound malevolent. "W-where are they?"

"They are here, too, but not now," the voice empathetically. "They exist here in another now, in another then."

"When am I, then?" Nerili asked, realizing what the voice meant.

"Another time, before the Dark and before the Light, too." The voice carried around her on a soft breeze. "This is your island before man walked this earth."

Nerili looked around carefully. "Who are you?"

The voice was quiet a long time, but at length, it returned. "I am one who remembers, I am one who is remembered."

"Are you an Elidhu?" she asked nervously.

A long pause, then, "I have been called that before." The wind moved around her again, playing with her hair. "But it is long since I have been in the minds of man. Tell me, Nerili of Thorold, do you trust me?"

"I don't know you," she said carefully, because the use of her name thrilled and terrified her. "But you have done me no harm."

"Nor will I," agreed the voice. "I have many names, but you may call me Nyanar."

Nerili swallowed. She had never heard of an Elidhu called Nyanar. "I still do not know you."

"I do not expect you to," the voice said, but this time, it was in her ear. Nerili yelped, twisting about.

Behind her, the tree she had been leaning against was no longer there, and instead, stood a man. He was the strangest man she had seen, with skin as rough as bark, arms like boughs, leaves sprouting from them, fingers like twigs, and instead of hair, a mass of leafy branches. His eyes, though, were catlike, and they stared at her, neither kind nor angry. She scampered backward, but he reached out one hand, and it seemed to stretch out to her. The twig fingers brushed her face and she felt a rush of warmth; her body slumped.

"I have brought you here because you will go into Darkness soon, and you have a task you must fulfill." She pressed her cheek into his hand and his fingers curled in her hair. "The the Song Boy, he is clouded in shadow, but you will bring him into the Light."

Nerili lifted her gaze to his face. "Song Boy?"

"One for the Singing, one of the Music. Song Boy." Nyanar stroked her face and she felt as if she had never known a single fear or pain. "He will need you."

"I can't help him," she said at last. "I-I am wounded. I can't fight; I can only refuse to surrender."

"I do not want you to fight, fire Bard," he said. "The Song is broken; it must be healed. He is a healer, but he must be healed first if the Song is to be made whole."

"I'm not a healer," Nerili said sadly. "I am nothing now."

"He will heal you," said Nyanar gently. "And you will show him the Light."

"I'm afraid," whispered Nerili. "I don't want to go into the Dark. I'm afraid I will fail."

The wind rustled her hair again, a gentle pressure that seemed to embrace her. "Perhaps it is not failure you have to fear at all, perhaps it is a accepting your failure. Have faith in the Light, fire Bard, and have faith in yourself. He will heal you, and you will heal him, and the circle will continue unbroken, as the Song will be."

His voice was drifting away, the breeze slacking. "Where are you going?" she asked suddenly.

"I will leave you now, fire Bard. Rest, sleep, know no evil and fear no pain. You are in my forests. You will wake when you have reached the Dark land."

Already, Nerili felt her eyes sagging, a bone-aching tiredness coming over her. "Why do you call me that?" she asked weakly. "Why do you call me fire Bard?"

She was curled on the ground when the wing swirled around her and the voice whispered in her ear. "Because you burn with fire, little Bard, you blaze with it. Carry it with you in the Dark."