HEALER, KILLER
By Amanda Swiftgold

BOOK TWO: DRAGON CAMPAIGN

Chapter Twelve

Belzac had not often questioned the will of Soa, the destinies that had been laid out for everyone long before their births - but he was having reservations about it now. Lately, he was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of including Damia in their battles. No matter how often he told himself that she'd been chosen, somehow all he could think of was the memory of her widened eyes and pinpoint pupils as she slammed her hammer down-

He frowned as he continued up the twisting stairs to the upper city and the tower ring above. So strange to think of this as home now, he thought randomly, pale eyes flicking across the golden-stone dome that capped his tower, finally finished. It didn't really seem his place to live here so high above everyone, so out of reach and unapproachable. He knew Diaz's penchant for drama, for the need to show that Humans too could build as grandly, live as grandly as their former masters, but he didn't necessarily like it.

However, as seemed so common when he came up here, it wasn't his tower he was aiming toward. He'd been searching for Damia most of the morning, and had finally found a guard who'd seen her slowly, fearfully climbing the stairs upward. She was likely in her own room, and he had decided it was worth the time coming up here to find out if it was true. As he turned onto the circular walkway, cold wind buffeted him strongly, knocking the gray hood from his hair and blowing his cloak so hard to the side that he nearly lost his balance.

Stumbling to catch himself, Belzac was surprised to see a figure stand suddenly from the chill snowy shadows surrounding his destination, the young girl reaching out her hand as if she could do one thing to steady him. He hurried to meet her so she wouldn't have to come out into the wind herself, replying to her worried expression with a quick grin.

It didn't seem to help much, though, as she caught his forearm in both of her small hands, gasping out, "Belzac, I thought you would fall!"

Of course - that was how it happened, wasn't it? How she became a Dragoon. And now she had to live up here, hoping every time she passed that she wouldn't fall again. He put his hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. Damn it, now he had one more thing to add to his list of doubts. "It's all right. What are you doing out here?"

An odd mixture of emotions flashed across her face that he couldn't exactly define, excitement mixed with guilt. Suddenly, as if she had something to hide, she quickly raised her arm and blurted, "Look, I just found this on my door handle." Dangling from her wrist was a single long auger seashell; a hole had been bored through its wider edge, and a sinew looped through it. It shimmered a little in the shade, a pale pearly white streaked with pink.

Belzac knew she'd actually been sitting there a while from the chill of her blue wrap beneath his fingers, even through his gloves, but he chose not to say anything. Instead, he inspected the shell briefly. "Very pretty. Do you know who left it?"

"Nuh-uh. But…it's really nice. It reminds me of home. Old, old home, I mean." She gave him a sudden suspicious look. "It's not from you, is it?"

He chuckled. "No. If I wanted to give you a present, Damia, I wouldn't just leave it at the door without a word."

She bit her lip, drawing the auger back to clasp it with her other hand against her. When the motion caught the gusts and made her teal hair fly away from her face, she reached to pat it back down again. "Sorry. I thought it could have been, since…"

He raised an eyebrow inwardly, noticing that she was trying to cover both sides of her face now and wondering how long it would last before she realized she couldn't hide her scales anymore. This last battle had renewed the attentions of the status-seekers in the city, but there had been a noticeable lack of appreciation toward the two half-Humans in comparison with the rest. He'd resigned himself to it by now, but he knew the girl's feelings had been hurt. "Maybe you have an admirer," he suggested lightly.

"Don't be silly," she murmured back.

His smile grew as he saw the way her eyes brightened despite her words. He hoped it really was true, and that the shell hadn't been left by one of the other Dragoons to make her think so.

She gave him a shy gaze before it shifted to the tower next to hers. It shared the landing on the floor below, white marble shining on its dome. "Are…are you looking for Shirley, then, Belzac? Because I don't think she's here. I think…she needs to be cheered up."

The man sighed, shaking his head as he crouched down next to the girl. Shirley's current unhappiness was another matter, but, despite how the uncharitable thought stung, he had decided that perhaps she had brought it on herself, and she could wait. "I think she does," he agreed, "but not right now. I came up to talk to you, actually."

"Talk to me?" she echoed, raising her eyebrows in a look that was a bit less innocent than intended. "What about?"

He blew out a breath, watching it mist about before glancing toward her door. "Well, before that - Damia, why have you been sitting outside? Is there something wrong with your room?"

The girl shook her head quickly. "No, nothing wrong…" She pursed her lips, staring down at her feet. "I just…well…I…" She swallowed hard before reaching for the handle, pressing down the latch. "Just come see it." She stood aside as she swung the door open, letting him go ahead to close the door behind them against the cold.

An unusual feeling of warmth and humidity enveloped him as he stepped inside the tower room, eyes widening in surprise as he realized it was because the place was full of water. The fires set beneath the floor had warmed it pleasantly, reminding him a little of a bathhouse in summer. It pooled over tiles patterned in white and black, and the faint wintry light from outside danced across the little ripples.

A large white stone fountain was set in the middle; more water trickled in little rivulets from the swirl-carved basin at its top down the supports into another basin, and inside seemed to be a platform, probably her bed. There was a carven chair by the window, made of more white stone, and pitchers and vases all about held even more liquid. At the back of the room, the water pooled even deeper, enough so for swimming, tumbling into the depths in a kind of controlled waterfall. Another little platform, submerged within the shadows back there, served as a base for what looked like a giant half-opened clamshell. He wouldn't have wanted to try to drink any of it, knowing the quality of the water that came from the rivers and streams around Vellweb, but it certainly looked remarkable.

The water cycles around, he noticed, almost taking a step forward and into it. Pouring and renewing itself…

Winglies were able to do this sort of thing, but he rather doubted even Charle's folk would have bothered to do this for Damia. Maybe someone had learned how from them, though. But in any case, it was hard enough for servants to get up to the towers at all, much less bearing water, which was one reason even the Dragoons had to make use of the bathhouses in the city if they wanted to get clean. He didn't want to contemplate how long it must have taken to get enough water up here to fill the pool and floor. Maybe they'd used the ropes and rollers that brought up the stones? "How did they do this?" Belzac breathed in wonder, turning on the little landing to take it all in.

Her voice sounded thick with tears as she managed to say, "I don't know, I didn't ask them to - I just said - I wish I could have some water in my room, since we aren't by the sea-"

He knelt down to be closer to her level, gently reaching to brush the tears, and her trailing hair, away from her scaled cheeks with the pad of his thumb. "It's beautiful," he said quietly. "The builders made my room nicer than I could ever have asked for, also. They respect us for what we can do." Even if they don't care for what we are, he added silently.

She shuddered, raising her hands to hide her face, unable to meet his gaze. "That's the problem!" she wailed, resisting the urge to just throw herself into his arms, sob against his shoulder like a child. It hadn't been so long ago that she'd actually done that, but now it seemed wrong, somehow, as if now that she was a Dragoon she wasn't allowed to want Belzac to comfort her anymore. "They made all this for me, and - and - and look at me!"

"Damia," he began, "I am, and I see someone who deserves all the respect she's given."

"Stop saying such nice things!" the half-mermaid choked, pulling away from him and splashing out toward the middle of the room, the oiled leather of her boots repelling the water. "Y-you're just here because you think I'm getting sick, that the fighting scares me! And it does," she finished in a much lower tone, wrapping her arms around herself.

"You know," Belzac said softly, shifting to sit down cross-legged on the tiled platform, "it's nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes I can…still see the face of the first man I killed."

He sighed, resting his chin in his hand and watching the gentle ripples of the water as she slowly turned and walked back through the shallow pool toward him. It had happened on that first harsh trip after being freed, traveling to Gloriano across the mountains with Shirley and their families. Bandits had attacked them out of desperation, and out of the same desperation to protect those he loved, Belzac had bludgeoned one to death with his mother's cast-iron frying pan, which had been in the fire at the time and the closest thing at hand. He'd been, what was it, barely twenty?

Damia sat down next to the man, leaning her head against his arm as if exhausted and breaking him from the memory. "Me too," she confessed. "All of them, when I try to sleep. And it's never going to go away?"

"I don't think it ever does," he answered sadly. I don't think even Kanzas, damn him, can forget quite so easily. "But it doesn't always have to haunt you like this."

Making a sound like a half-whine, she bent forward to trail her fingers into the water where it lapped against the edge of the stair. "When Syuveil and I were flying over Magrad…when we saw the tower there and how it was shooting magic at the soldiers, I knew we had to go back to get everyone, that we couldn't help them all alone. But…" She stopped again for a moment, trying to calm the waver in her voice. "Did you know, we were down low and I could hear them, and when they saw us they were cheering and - and when we flew away again, do you think they hated us for leaving them?"

He closed his eyes, wishing he could tell her no, yet he couldn't help but remember the feeling he'd gotten from the fort, that clinging sense of anger, of loathing…and he knew that she knew that as well. "Would it have been better if you and Syuveil had died defending them, then?" Belzac asked her seriously and a little sternly. "Would it have done anything except, perhaps, easing your conscience?"

"That's not fair," she gritted, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"But it's something we all have to think about," he pressed. "No life is worth throwing away. But when you have a hard choice to make, sometimes you have to think about what will be best in the long run - and that's why Syuveil had you come back to Vellweb." He paused, trying to decide how to say it, knowing that he couldn't avoid the subject anymore. "Damia…when we…subjugate Mekadris, I would like it if you stayed here."

The girl turned quickly to look at him, her brows knitting. "What do you mean, stay here? I can fight too - you know I can, Belzac!"

"Yes, I know," he tried to soothe her quickly as she leaped to her feet, glaring down at him. "I know you can fight. But I can see what these last two battles have done to you, and I don't think you're-"

"I'm fine!" she shouted, her fists clenched in anger, but he was used to outbursts in the middles of lectures and went on, unperturbed.

"-I don't think you're in good enough shape for another right now," Belzac finished, hardening his heart to the look of betrayal on her pale face. "Look, we don't expect you to like killing - oh, Soa, I don't want that! But as long as it's affecting you - then you should stay here until you've come to terms with it. Work on your training until you're ready."

Suddenly turning her back to him, Damia reached with her other hand to trace the contours of the shell hanging from her wrist, shoulders shaking as she fought back more tears. "Is…is that an order, Belzac?" she forced out.

"…No," he returned, getting slowly to his feet. "No, it's not. But…I can have it made one, if it's necessary." Another sob escaped, half cut off, and he sighed. "You are a Dragoon…not one of my children. And I wish it hadn't happened that way. I'm sorry, Damia." As he expected, she didn't answer, and he reached for the door handle, hurrying to leave before he had to hear the sound of her crying.


This moment was one of many that Leki had been dreading ever since the terrible day of his sudden promotion. The time that had passed since then was not time enough to get used to all the sudden new responsibilities that had been dropped in his lap, and it seemed as though he'd barely returned to Zenebatos and taken up his duties before he'd been summoned back again.

Today, apparently, he and the other three Overseers were going to meet with Frahma about the growing threat of the Humans and the Dragons. He had made sure to arrive early, so as not to risk his lord's ire, and was once again waiting in the drawing room as he had before.

Before he'd been told… Leki repressed a sigh at the thought of his new position, his new home - and his new wife. Once she was the Lady of the Southern Palace, once a serene and happy woman whom he'd admired, and as a reward for his loyalty, Frahma had had her husband assassinated and handed her off to him without a second thought. Now, because he'd admitted he enjoyed her company, she was Vairi Bardel, Lady of Zenebatos…and completely miserable.

He still wasn't able to look her in the eye.

Rubbing his temples slightly, he leaned forward on the couch. There was also the matter of the laws and the trials, the very heart of the city he now ruled - though perhaps ruled wasn't the right word, now that he thought about it. Nomos, as he was created to do, dispensed justice without any input from him, and then there were those three winged executioners. Though they were Wingly half-breeds, they appeared mostly Human, their wings not their own, flesh and feathers instead of energy. However they had been born, they had then been altered in Aglis, altered and bound to service. He may have been given the secret spells that pulled their strings, but he couldn't really control them, no more than he could control anyone but his house-slaves and the city functionaries.

Finally letting out his sigh, Leki uncurled and sank back against the cushions, glancing once more toward the closed doors on either side of the room. No one, still. Maybe the other Overseers weren't going to be brought in here to wait for the audience with Frahma with him. After all, a little voice in the back of his head muttered to him, after Faust's treachery the last thing Frahma would want was for his other lords to have a chance to plot against him. As soon as he even thought it, however, Leki felt ashamed of the very idea. Of course that wasn't the reason. Perhaps he was just very early?

He ran his hands back through platinum waves of hair, fidgeting on the couch for several minutes more before the soft sound of the opening door startled him into turning around. A Human slave slipped back into the drawing room on the far side, eyes cast down respectfully - or fearfully - as he stated, "Overseer, Lord Frahma will have your presence now."

He stood up with a nod, straightening his new, fine and rather uncomfortable coat, and the Human ran in a sort of crouching lope toward the other door, attempting to keep his head lower than the shorter Wingly man's. Leki took a deep breath as he walked after him, trying not to remember what he'd been forced to do the last time he'd gone inside the throne room. With all luck, his loyalty would not be tested yet again today.

And, as soon as he'd stepped through, he blinked, swallowing hard, his hands clenching briefly as he calmed himself. Two other men stood waiting in front of Frahma on the throne, and at the sound of his boots clicking across the black-marble tiles, they both turned to look at him, giving him scrutinizing glances he did his best not to rudely return. One was an older man with a long silvery beard, and the other rather younger and brashly handsome, a sort of sneer in his eyes as he watched the new Overseer's approach.

Frahma, fingers steepled before him, did nothing more than nod slightly at his entrance, waiting until he'd crossed the long floor of the throne room before saying dryly, "And now our council is nearly complete. Leki Bardel, Overseer of Zenebatos," he announced, apparently introducing them. "Teofilo Otakar, Overseer of Aglis." A curt wave pointed out the older man at this; he merely gave Leki a nod of his own in return. "And Brennan Sumati, Overseer of the Crystal Palace."

As his name was said, the younger Wingly grinned, reaching out to grasp Leki's hand in both of his own, shaking it repeatedly with a grip almost too firm. "Ah, so you're the loyal soldier we've heard so much about. How's the noble life treating you, eh? Make any new laws lately?"

He stammered something to that, taken aback by Brennan's enthusiasm. A moment later, his numbed hand was released, and another insincere grin spread across Brennan's face.

Teofilo cleared his throat pointedly, idly smoothing his beard with his palm. "If you're quite finished, Lord Sumati, Lord Bardel," the magician said in a dry, papery voice, "perhaps we can begin our council?"

Leki looked around quickly, seeing only the four of them present in the room, apart from the usual Human slaves waiting by the doors. Confused, he dared to say, "But - this isn't everyone?"

Ignoring him, Frahma inclined his head. "Yes. I believe we shall begin-"

A green teleportation globe set down suddenly in the midst of them, and as it dissipated a smell of must, of old mold, seemed to waft into the throne room, clinging to the Wingly woman who had just arrived.

"-right now," he finished, just a hint of amusement in his voice.

The two other men each took an unconscious step away from the newcomer, but Leki, on the other hand, was merely curious about the Overseer of Mayfil - until she turned to face them.

She stood thin-limbed and pale, her long, long silver hair gathered into two tails on the top of her head. A length of white fabric draped haphazardly around her was a mere concession to the modesty of others. Despite the bared flesh, despite the rudeness of it, he could only stare in horror at her face, at the eyeballs that seemed turned backwards with no iris or pupil present, at full lips sewn tightly closed with a twisted black cord.

The woman seemed to meet his gaze for a moment, and he shuddered, falling back out of the way as she turned abruptly to walk toward the throne. Skin flashing at them from beneath the meager drape, she raised one hand almost absently to stroke the dark, crouching thing that clung to her shoulder, its claws driven deep through the skin. Dark trails of old blood down her back gave evidence to the fact that this was nothing out of the ordinary.

As the woman climbed the steps, extending her hand calmly to Frahma, Leki whispered, barely aloud, "Who is that…?"

"Overseer Ieo," Brennan answered, also in an undertone, his teeth bared in a wince although he was obviously trying to hide his disgust. "She consorts with the Devildom-"

"She's hideous," he murmured, watching as their ruler took the woman's outstretched hand and kissed the back of it, aqua eyes hooded as he looked up at her.

She drew it back in another smooth motion, turning toward them as she remained standing there, one step below the throne on the dais. No one made any move to introduce Leki to her, the silence holding for a moment before Frahma leaned forward again. "Now, the matter at hand, my Overseers - the warmongering of the Humans and the Dragons."

No one made any move to comment, waiting to be given permission to speak. Of course, one never interrupted Melbu Frahma. His cold stare flicked across them briefly before he continued, "As you are no doubt aware by now, the mobile fortress Flanvel has fallen to the combined efforts of the Human 'empire', the Dragon-abominations, and our own treacherous kin."

Leki fought back a deep breath at that. Indeed, the people in Zenebatos seemed more uneasy than usual, though the approved rumors had been spread - that Faust had brought it on himself, that he had planned to overthrow Frahma and had met his reward. He couldn't help but think, however, that this didn't address the fact that the Humans had managed not only to get past the tower's magical defenses, but also knock it miles and miles to the east.

"This has the unfortunate consequence of leaving our cities unprotected," Frahma went on. "It is, of course, your responsibility to ensure the safety of our people. If the Humans wish a war," he finished in a dark tone, "they shall certainly have one."

Silence filled the room after this, the Overseers mulling over the implications of the thought of a true war against the Humans. Finally, however, the dark shape crouched upon Ieo's shoulder shifted a bit, catching the Wingly lord's gaze. "Speak, Zackwell," the gray-skinned man said curtly, to Leki's surprise apparently addressing the creature.

Clenching his fists at his sides to control himself, Leki nonetheless couldn't keep his eyes from widening as the shape stretched upward, taking on a rather spider-like form, the claws that dug into the woman's back and shoulder now attached to four thin, spindly legs. "Mistress believes they will attack Mayfil first of all, my lord," it said in a sharp male voice, though a sort of hissing undertone sounded with it. "The Humans are terrified by it."

The devil was speaking for her because of her sewn lips, Leki realized, suppressing a shudder as he thought of just how Ieo had bound herself to the Devildom to which she delivered souls. He too was not at ease with the Death City, not at all, but he wasn't about to let it show right now.

Though the disgust from the other men was unmistakable, Frahma remained unperturbed, making a noise of agreement. "Of the sky cities, yes, they will attack Mayfil first, though their next target will be the Slave City Mekadris. We need not devote any resources to its protection."

Leki nodded at this, looking down and letting his hair hide the nervous sheen of sweat on his forehead. It made sense tactically - being grounded, that city was the easiest to take, and the Humans would attack it if only to hinder the slave trade. Though he desperately wanted to object to the fact that those living there might be sacrificed, if not given warning, he kept silent, listening to his ruler as he went on.

"The defense of Mayfil is of the utmost priority. Overseer Ieo, your thoughts."

The strange woman kept her white eyes fixed on Frahma as the devil on her shoulder spoke the response. "They will send their seven Dragoons, Lord Frahma. As they are the ones who control the Dragons, who in concert have proven so effective against us, they are also the key to the Humans' downfall."

A tension arose at that reminder of previous Human victories, and Leki flushed in embarrassment at the memory of his own army destroyed so easily. The lord, however, oddly seemed to take no offense at this, regarding her evenly. "Explain how you will stop them."

"Souls with attachments to the living remain in Mayfil, if the bond is strong," Zackwell elaborated for his mistress. "The freeman, the Giganto, the first chosen, the scholar, the Loreley, your stolen slave, the Aglis survivor - all should have such attachments to souls in our care. They will be easily reanimated and manipulated to the desired effect."

At the mention of his city, Teofilo shifted a bit where he stood, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he remembered a certain incident. Brennan, on the other hand, made a scoffing noise, muttering under his breath, "They just need a Mininto to complete the menagerie, don't they?"

Frahma nodded toward the woman and her servant, seemingly ignoring the responses of the other Overseers. "Very well. You may begin the preparations."

"As you command," Zackwell answered. In response, Ieo almost languidly lifted one hand, the devil reaching to cling to it as it passed, moving from her bloodstained shoulder. With a flicking motion, she tossed the little dark thing into the air, where it vanished in a flash of teleporting light.

Their ruler turned his cold eyes back to the others and said, "Now, Overseer Sumati, you wished to address the current difficulties you are experiencing in the region of the Birth City?"

For once, Leki felt a brief rush of satisfaction at the odd Wingly's words, watching Brennan's confidence crack as he fought to control his surprise. "Difficulties - oh, er, yes, my lord, I had thought to address-" He paused a moment to clear his throat before tucking his hands behind his back again. "It's about the Divine Dragon, my lord."

Frahma allowed himself a thin smirk at his own prescience, threading his hands together with his elbows resting on the arms of the throne. "To call such a creature 'divine' is merely a commoner's superstition, Overseer," he murmured dryly. "But no matter. Do tell me, what of this Dragon?"

"To speak frankly, sir," he began, "the Humans and their own beasts have got it all stirred up. Used to be you could count on it sleeping for hundreds of years at a time, but lately it's been flying about more often than not, protecting its 'territory' or some damn thing."

"Ah, from the other Dragons," he commented as though this was the first he'd heard of it.

Brennan shook his head, replying dourly, "Not just the other ones, my lord, though it'll go after them enough. No, it flies by the Birth City as if judging the defenses, though we were able to chase it away with the crystal beam. Attacked the troops, too, tore a path through-" he slowed, blinking in sudden realization, "-just as you read in the report…"

"And so I did," Frahma replied. Although she didn't make a sound, the posture of Ieo at his side clearly betrayed her amusement. "But fear not, good Overseer," he went on in mock-kindly tones, "the matter must be dealt with. It may attack randomly now, but we should not allow the possibility to arise that one of these Dragon-men abominations may wrest it to their will."

The long-silent Overseer of Aglis finally spoke. "To that end, my lord," the old man said, "the anti-Dragon items you ordered crafted are now nearing completion."

"Excellent." He smirked. "Bring them to me, Teofilo, and then we shall take care of this…difficulty. Does this satisfy you, Lord Sumati?"

Splotches of color arose on Brennan's face, but he managed a stiff nod in response. "Yes, my lord."

"I'm quite pleased to hear that," Frahma answered, just this side of snidely. "Then let us make haste, before the Humans find some other way to twist nature against us. I shall prepare certain other surprises for them as well. Now, if there are no further difficulties, this council is over."

The man didn't respond, having learned his lesson, but his face and ears were still a telltale angry red as he stood back. Leki, however, though keeping his head down, glanced up at their ruler and took a deep breath. "Forgive me, my lord, but - what might I do?"

There was a brief moment of waiting silence, and then the gray-skinned Wingly smirked again before disappearing in a flash of green. Ieo departed a few seconds later. Teofilo too had no words for him, merely making a pensive noise before vanishing as well.

The newest Overseer stared at the empty throne in disbelief. What did that mean, anyway? He'd thought-

"Ah, don't fret, old boy," Brennan sighed, clapping him hard on the shoulder and startling him. "I mean, it's all rather plain, isn't it? Someone like you made Overseer? Your job is to nod at the right time and do what you're told." Giving him a slight shove as he turned to walk away, the younger man flashed a brief, knowing grin before raising his hand to trace the sigil of teleportation.

Leki sighed a little, lips twitching in brief petulance that quickly passed. The thought that he would much rather be back in the Zenebatos Watch flitted through his mind before he, too, cast the spell to start him on his way back 'home'.


Chunks of white marble crunched beneath the soles of her boots as Shirley stepped gingerly around what had once been the arch marking the entrance into the Mekadris slave market. The smell of smoke hung thickly in the warm morning air, making her raise her arm to her face as she coughed to try to clear her lungs of it.

The battle, such as it was, had been over for a while now, but chaos still reigned in the remains of the ruined Slave City. Strangely enough, there hadn't been much resistance from the Winglies who had lived and presided here, no forces but city guards who were easily overcome. They hadn't come across many Winglies at all, in fact, which was not surprising when there were so many teleporters available here to aid in their evacuation. The citizens who hadn't been able to escape had been turned on by their slaves, a situation which had quickly become ugly and was still only barely under control.

Occasionally, the sounds of raised voices caught her ears, shouts across the buckled plaza. Once the token defenders had been defeated, the Dragoons had turned some of the freed slaves into a hasty militia in an attempt to curb some of the rioting. Still others were searching the rubble for survivors, pulling bodies and the occasional living person out of collapsed buildings.

Shirley kept her bow in her hands as she moved into the square, looking for where her assistance might be needed. She could pick out Belzac's familiar shape in the distance, though he was mostly obscured by the smoke and dust; Rose, Zieg and Syuveil were also about to help deal with the aftermath. She wished that they had been able to bring some soldiers along to keep the peace, but there was no way even a small force could have made it through the mountains without months of cold travel, especially now that Flanvel's destruction had destroyed the old route. They simply had no means, like the Winglies did, to magically send the men where they needed to go, though maybe they could acquire such means - capture some of their moveable transports, perhaps. As it was, many of the soldiers in the city had already moved out, sent with Lord General Tibero to establish a new outpost toward the north of Gloriano, their aim to keep an eye on Zenebatos and hopefully keep the attention of the Winglies on their border fixed more firmly on them instead of the capital.

Mekadris may have been taken, but they weren't going to be able to hold it without any troops, and there wasn't much reason for them to go to the effort to do so; it was too close to the Birth City and to Kadessa to make trying worthwhile. The Humans here would be left to their own devices, and it would be up to them to decide whether to stay in the sacked city, to head to Gloriano on their own, or try to survive in the nearby evergreen forest. As much as she wished it were otherwise, there was nothing else they could do.

We're lucky we didn't even need all the Dragoons for this, she thought absently. With Damia told to stay behind, and Kanzas nowhere to be found, they'd been forced to go ahead and attack with only five. He hadn't shown up for his normal patrol two days ago, and although there was no indication from the spirit that he was in danger, it was worrying her more than she wanted to admit. Even leaving aside her own feelings about it, Diaz had been rather angry when he found out that the Thunder Dragoon was missing, and she hadn't been able to tell their leader it might have been because he and she had fought.

Fine, then, if he wanted to be a child about it and storm off. She tossed her hair a bit, stepping down from broken stones into a relatively cleared area of the former markets. He'd be back soon enough, acting like nothing had even happened, and she'd just have to-

Sudden angry cries broke her out of her aggravated musing, and she spun toward their source, moving forward until she could see through the haze in the air.

Several militiamen were trying to hold back what looked like the beginnings of a mob. They all seemed to be after one large man sprawled on the ground, who, to Shirley's surprise, was Human as well. Rose was there, and he clung, trembling, to her leg before she gave him a look of disgust, kicking him off with her other foot. However, turning toward the group of former slaves, she brandished her sword to keep them back, a glare darkening her eyes. "What is the meaning of this?" As more and more people began to mass around them, Zieg came to her aid, standing with her between the crowd and their intended victim, his red tunic beneath his leather armor bright amongst the undyed clothes of the others.

Although many had only been able to arm themselves with kitchen knives, garden tools or even pieces of debris, several had come up with real weapons, taken from the bodies of their former Wingly owners. A few militiamen and the drawn swords of the two Dragoons only made the mob hesitate a little. "Move aside! Let us have 'im!"

A rumble of agreement met this, and someone else shouted out, "The Wingly-lover's gotta pay!"

More loud, outraged roaring came from the crowd as they pressed forward. Swallowing hard, Shirley reached back for an arrow and set it to her bow, standing far enough away to have a good shot. If they came any closer to Rose and Zieg…

"Stop!" the blonde man shouted, scowling. "This makes you no better than they are!"

This too did little to halt the swarm of people intent on reaching the man cowering behind them. "Who's better, eh? He sold his own people to line his pockets!"

"No, no," the man protested, hiding his head with his arms.

"You know you did, Godon! Right up on the blocks!"

"Liar! You sold my brother! You bastard!"

"Kill him!" The roars, the shouts, increased substantially as the mob surged forward, perfectly ready to mow down the militiamen, Zieg, and Rose in order to reach the man they were protecting.

Shirley was momentarily stunned as she recognized him as the same Human auctioneer who had presided over the sale of Kanzas. She felt a rush of relief that the other Dragoon hadn't been here after all. He'd let them have him, and with his blessing-

The large man let out a shriek of terror, lurching forward to hug onto Rose's leg again, one hand twisted in the hem of her long dark tunic. "Please, sir, lady, I beg you-!"

Badly-restrained anger crossed her face, and she jerked away from him violently, a burst of dark light streaming from the Dragoon Spirit at her chest to envelop her in a multicolored orb. Godon screamed, his cry echoed by others of alarm and awe, and when it dissipated the black-haired woman hung in the midst of the swarming crowd, the large wings of her armor flapping lazily. "Stop this now!"

Though Rose's words did not instantly cow the mob, they had indeed lost their urge to rush at the man now that a transformed Dragoon was in the way. Those on the edges began to drift away, suddenly eager to be somewhere else, and with a deep sigh Shirley lowered her bow, letting the string go slack as the grumbling crowd slowly broke up, urged on by Zieg and the militiamen.

A deep frown on her face, Rose released her armor, an indigo glow shimmering as she was set down on the ground, back to normal again. The auctioneer gibbered at her feet, bowing low before her worshipfully and sobbing in relief. "Thank you, thank you, my lady, you saved my life-"

She exchanged looks with Zieg, who merely shrugged, before turning back to him, an odd expression on her face. "Get up," she snapped. "You - oh, I don't know." She then turned to a nearby swordsman, gesturing to Godon. "Keep an eye on him. He'll have to go to Vellweb, I guess. I just never thought they'd…" The woman rubbed at her temples with gloved fingers as the stocky man was hauled up and ushered away, her fiancé putting a hand on her back briefly.

With the situation defused and everyone drifting out of the slave markets, Shirley could see Belzac again; he had been on the other side of the crowd, attempting to control them as well. She frowned both thoughtfully and sadly, worried about him. There were no Human children in Mekadris over the age of two, the Winglies in the city having forced obedience to Melbu Frahma's insane doctrine, and her friend had understandably not taken it well.

Although he seemed to have calmed down by now, she decided she still wanted to talk to him. However, before she could make a move to get his attention, Syuveil had approached the half-Giganto, his pale face stern and set. She watched as he explained something, gesturing back the way he'd come, and then the two hurried off.

Her curiosity piqued, she looked around to make sure there was nothing else requiring her attention before following after them, picking her way around more fallen rubble. No, between the five of them and their Dragons, the few Winglies left here to fight hadn't had a chance.

Syuveil and Belzac had come to a stop at the end of a street, in front of a large tree. Moving up behind Belzac as she shouldered her bow, the red-haired woman could only see the vague shapes of what they were looking at beneath it until she stepped around him, her hand instantly flying to her mouth in shock. Warm morning light filtered down through branches bare of leaves, casting dancing shadows over the hanging figures of seven Humans, each swaying gently at the end of a noose.

Hearing the soft gasp, Belzac turned away from the scene, slipping his arm around her shoulders and putting himself in the way of the sight once more. "Shirley," he began quietly, shaking his head, "you don't have to see this-"

"What happened?" she croaked, one hand twisting in the vest he wore over his coppery breastplate. Though the bodies weren't as defiled as the ones she and Kanzas had found on the way to Kadessa, they held an equal horror. As she forced herself to peer around him, look closer, she could see blood spattered across the dry, cracked ground, smeared into misshapen letters. 'By the Wil of Soa'. 'Wingle Loverr'. 'Traytr'.

Syuveil rubbed at his chin, though his air of academic indifference couldn't mask the troubled look in his green eyes. "They likely tried to make their lives easier by assisting the slavers, never knowing the tide could turn."

"But - other Humans did that?" Shirley protested, halfheartedly trying to push aside Belzac's arm as she continued to stare at the lynched people. "That's not - that's not the way it-"

"You saw that mob, didn't you?" They like to say we're meant to be peaceful, that they're meant to rule. But Winglies and…Dragoons aren't the only ones who are capable of something like this. This is no better than Frahma's- The big man shook his head again, finally letting her go. "Come on," he said briefly. "Let's get them down from there."

As Syuveil produced a dagger and began to cut the ropes, Belzac lifting down each corpse gently like a child in his muscular arms, Shirley took a few mindless steps backward, feeling both useless and stunned. Moving a bit jerkily, she turned to find some water to wash away the accusing words.

Surprisingly, it did not take long - warm water bubbled up from a rent in the buckled street nearby where some spell had smashed up the ground during the battle. Mekadris was not very far from the ocean at all, but this still seemed out of place. Right now, however, she wasn't going to question it. Finding the curved pieces of a broken jar nearby, she filled the largest one with the water and carried it back to the tree.

The water washed the blood away easily, the letters worked back into the ground as she turned the dirt. She pointedly ignored the grisly labor happening near where she knelt, the liquid muddying the knees of her white pants. Shirley wasn't aware of how much time passed, how long she sat there erasing the evidence of this great anger, before motion in the sky caught her attention.

The two men also looked up from where they were laying out the corpses as the serpentine form of a sea Dragon, golden spray sparking from its wings, settled down in the square nearby. Moments later, its small rider wriggled out from under the harness ropes. Stephen shifted impatiently, blue scales shimmering as he regarded the militiamen, civilians and prisoners with suspicion.

Looking around cautiously, Damia began to approach the other Dragoons, pausing only when she saw Rose and Zieg down another street and shyly gesturing for them to join her as well. "What?" Belzac murmured as they approached, feet splashing into the water that was welling up into the street. "You weren't supposed to…"

The sight of the bodies lined up and the two still hanging gave the newcomers pause, and the girl looked away quickly, her face paler than normal as she refused to meet Belzac's eyes. "I - I was ordered to come here by Emperor Diaz," she explained nervously, fiddling with the end of her scarf, the curious gazes on her making her uneasy.

Zieg, his face screwed up in anger at the sight of the dead, nearly snapped, "Surely he doesn't think we can't be trusted with this!"

"No!" she hastened to reply, shaking her head hard and sending long teal hair flying. "No, it's not-" Turning quickly from the equally incensed look on Rose's face, she moved to where the White-Silver Dragoon knelt, grabbing up one of her muddy hands in both of her smaller ones. "I was sent to bring you, Shirley. They need you because Lady Mille is having her baby."

Syuveil's indrawn breath at that was sharp and audible even amongst the exclamations of the others, earning him some worried looks. However, he subsided without saying anything, adjusting his spectacles self-consciously and turning to stare off in a different direction, shoulders hunched beneath his cloak.

Coming out of her reverie, Shirley finally nodded, letting the half-mermaid drag her to her feet. "Yes, I…let's get going, Damia." She felt sudden pangs of nervousness, though she had assisted at the births of other slaves as well as countless farm animals. After all, so much depended on nothing going wrong, and thanks to the poison weakening both mother and child, that would be rather unlikely.

"There's one more thing," Damia interjected, her fingers tightening briefly around the older woman's as she looked to the others. "Kanzas isn't back, and - and Emperor Diaz is - and he wants someone to find him and bring him back."

"I'll do it," Zieg said immediately, his gaze flicking to Rose and stalling her even as she opened her mouth. "Look, I haven't had a problem with him, so maybe I can get him to listen."

She glowered at him, shaking her head. "And if he's betrayed us? Don't trust-"

Blinking a bit guiltily, Shirley broke in, saying, "No, that's not it-"

When the Red-Eye Dragoon began to answer back, Belzac overrode them all, his deep voice silencing them. "There's no time for this," he stated, quieting when they did. "Shirley and Damia need to get back to Vellweb, and there are still things to do here. Zieg can take care of it." And he's the only one besides Syuveil who might not get into a brawl with that…man, he finished silently. Syuveil, on the other hand, likely had a lot on his mind right now.

"Fine," Rose muttered, turning away with arms crossed to stare blandly at the two bodies left on the hanging tree. Wordlessly, Syuveil moved to continue taking them down, and after a moment she and Belzac went to help.

It's as if she wants a chance to fight with him. Shirley sighed, full of even more worries now, and looked to the blonde man nearby. "Try using your spirit orb," she suggested wearily. "You can feel a sort of pull, if you focus, when you're near another Dragoon."

Zieg nodded to that, and the twelve-year-old quickly pulled him aside to give him the whole of Diaz's message before hurrying back to Shirley, who was already calling for Eremi to return. In a matter of a few minutes, the three of them were on their way, leaving the ruined Slave City and the rest of the troubled Dragoons behind.


The sound of thunder rolled in the clear blue afternoon sky, the only sort of warning the village would receive. A young, barefoot Wingly girl, appearing all of seven years, looked up from where she sat on a clump of overgrown grass by the dirt road. "Huh," she said to herself thoughtfully, holding up the stick she was using to draw in the dust.

The next thing she knew, someone was screaming. Twisting around in a frantic attempt to see what was happening, she clambered to her feet, eyes scanning the humble village quickly. Something dark passed overhead, and there was a flare of turquoise light close nearby, nearly blinding her as it slammed into the ground. The girl sobbed in fear, but over the sound of her own frightened cries she could hear the alarm suddenly being raised, warning of a Dragon attack.

There was so much noise, voices shouting and yelling, and punctuating it was another loud crack of magic sizzling through the air. She curled up, her hands clamped over her eyes as if that could protect them from the brightness that still filled her vision. "Mama? Mama!"

"I'm here!" She heard the wonderful, worried voice in her ear, felt the arms suddenly around her dragging her up, and she clung to the woman in a death-grip as her mother's wings shot from her back, lifting them both from the ground as they fled.

Rubbing at her eyes with one hand, the girl was finally able to clear them enough to see the wooden houses along the street flash by her as they went, and the occasional weapon-wielding man flying in the opposite direction. Being a poor, grounded Wingly community, they were used to fending off attacks from Dragons - but there had always been more warning than this.

There was a great rush of wind, and then suddenly she could see only purple, shiny scales reflecting the sun. The girl felt her mother's hitched gasp as she fought to halt herself, letting out her own shriek as she clung to her neck. The spiky Dragon had entered a dive, crashing down through the dwellings just nearby with a loud wailing roar and sending wood and stone spraying through the air.

The force of the impact knocked fleeing Winglies from the air, the small pale-haired forms tossed aside like leaves in a gale and tumbling wildly. Though her mother had tried to use her body to protect her daughter, as they were thrown amidst the debris it was of little use. They came to a rolling stop against the crumbling remains of a stone wall.

Coughing dust from her lungs, the young girl pulled herself up to her knees, her entire body aching but nothing broken. The woman, however, had not been so fortunate, one leg beneath her tattered skirt twisted at an unnatural angle. Teeth clenched in pain, she kept one hand wrapped around her daughter's wrist, struggling upright. "We must hide," she gritted out. "Look around-"

Dull-silver hair glinting as she twisted frantically, the child looked for a hiding spot amidst the fallen remains of the homes. Used to playing hide-and-seek with her friends, she quickly located a hole in a pile, the entrance to a partially caved-in cellar. "This way, Mama," she squeaked, pulling at her, eyes fastened to the sky for any sign of the Dragon.

The sounds of magic spells being cast were audible closer to the village center where guardsmen and family heads were trying to protect their home. None of them were as strong in power as real soldiers, much less the magicians in the flying cities - most of the young Winglies here had barely been allowed to be born. But, although they fought with the same grim desperation as any defender, it seemed as though the only sounds arising now were death cries.

Cringing as another glint of purple winged by overhead, the woman crouched in a shadow, pulling the child with her, trying to make herself smaller until it had passed. They crawled like worms through the dirt toward the hole, the girl's mother struggling with her leg, until finally they reached its questionable safety.

The two clung together as blasts shook the ground outside, heads ducked against the little pebbles that fell from the debris above them. Though her head was hidden tightly against her chest, the girl could feel her mother's movement as she kept looking around, trying to judge how far away, how close, what was happening out there beyond their vision.

"It's going to be all right," she whispered. "It's going to be all right…"

Suddenly, electricity seemed to fill the air, making their hair float up and tingling uncomfortably across their skin. A moment later there was a tremendous, shuddering boom as the Dragon's magic hit just nearby, the collapsed house above the two Winglies trembling in response. More and more rocks began to tumble down into the little underground hollow, and before she even realized it, the girl felt herself pushed hard toward the opening leading upward. "Run-!"

Frightened, and confused as to why she'd been shoved out of hiding, she turned halfway, seeing the motion of her mother's hands starting a spell, the sound of creaking wood loud in her ears. "Mama? What's going on? Mama? Mama-"

Inhaling dirt, she began to cough, unable to stop or do anything but simply stare as the house they'd been beneath shifted and fell with a rumble, as if dropped down into a pit, walls sagging and sliding into mere piles of wood and stone. Pelted by flying rocks, she scrambled away, still coughing, eyes wide in disbelief as she hid her face with her hands.

She remained still as the cloud of dust drifted over her, her coughing finally abating as it cleared, unable to wrap her mind around what had just occurred. Although it was slowly becoming clear, she somehow couldn't feel any franticness, any sudden urge to throw herself at the fallen house and try to dig her mother free - even then, she knew there was no way she could be all right.

In shock, and no longer caring what might happen to her if the Dragon spotted her, the girl soon found herself wondering why she couldn't hear any more noise coming from the other side of the rubble. Was it over? She dragged herself upright and started walking in the general direction of her home, ignoring the cuts and scrapes her bare feet were receiving, without the energy or will to summon her wings.

The packed earthen streets had been torn up by blasts, forcing her to circle around huge hills and craters where none had been before, the smell of smoke filling the air. As she neared what had once been the town green, voices came to her ears. Momentarily relieved, she moved faster, hurrying to find their owners - and then came to a stop when one became a quite audible scream that descended into a choking, wet gurgle and died away.

She climbed up some of the broken terrain, looking blankly out at the scene not far away. The corpses of men littered the ground, and among them moved a strange sight for these parts - a Human man wearing black. His species was obvious by his coloring even at a distance, so different from the pale, silvery-haired Winglies whose bodies surrounded him.

The girl watched, unblinking, as he lunged toward what seemed to be the last defender, kicking the collapsed man's chin upward with his foot before leaning in to drive his clawed fist into the neck. She stared at the spray of red that ensued, stared as she watched him laugh, her small hands clenching into fists of their own.

A flare of anger, like a brief candle, lit inside her. Was all this his fault? She began moving forward steadily, sliding a bit down the other side of the hill. No one here had been rich enough, important enough, to even own a slave, but she knew how you were supposed to make them behave. Humans were weak, after all, and Winglies were just naturally better.

Reason diluted by her shock and grief, the girl stalked closer to the suddenly-still figure, who made no indication he noticed her. "Go away, Human!" she shrieked in what she hoped was a scolding tone, but her voice dried away as he whipped his head toward her. She tried to say more, but nothing else came except a scream as he lunged for her, catching her small throat in his bloody hand and lifting her from the ground.

The child's wings sparked from her back and fizzled away again erratically with the fear and adrenaline that coursed through her body, and he peered at her in amusement. "You think I'm Human?" he laughed, giving her a little shake. "No, no. I'm your Archangel."

Her eyes widened at that, and with another laugh he threw her to the ground carelessly. Sniffling now, she pulled up onto her knees, staring at the figure above her haloed by the sun. He didn't look at all like the statue which had stood in the square - automatically, she glanced in that direction, seeing nothing but rubble. But the Archangel could be a man or a woman, her mother had told her, and they'd kissed the cold stone feet and her mother had said, 'The Archangel will always protect us'-

Confusion warred with fear, and she blurted, "But you don't got wings and lotsa arms and-"

The man bent down low, running his fingers up into her silver hair and almost gently pulling back her head to expose her throat. "Oh, but I do," he said softly, raising his other hand. The long claws of a monster seemed to sprout from the back, shining in the bright light. "They're black wings that you can't see, but your kind gave them to me, and now I will thank you for it."

She flinched at the sight of the blades, tears of pain leaking from her eyes as her hair was pulled in his grip. "But the Archangel - the Archangel saves us!"

"And so I will." He smiled thinly, that hair drifting wildly in the breeze - that ugly, ugly Human hair, colored like dried blood, on his face, his head. "Don't you know the song children sing, Wingly? The Humans you all despise? No, of course you don't." She made a little whimper, and he laughed, his hand descending as he sang, voice strangely melodic despite the raspiness, "Learn the law and learn it well - Winglies go to Heaven, Humans go to-"

Flailing her arms, trying to avoid the oncoming strike, the girl suddenly felt herself shoved back hard. She hit the ground, a choked cry escaping as she landed face-first in the mud. She looked up at the man with blurred vision, tasting metal as the blood that was now streaming from her nose also ran down the back of her throat.

"Why do I care?" the man was demanding to himself hoarsely, not seeming to see her. "Why do I even care what she'd think?"

Coughing hard, the girl began to pull herself away, scrabbling in the soft dirt rather ineffectually. Maybe she could get away; if she got far enough away she could start to fly…

He shook his head hard before glaring down at her, and she froze, staring back up at him over her shoulder with those huge Wingly eyes, with fear that felt so…so good to see. "Go! Get out of here, kid," he finally shouted, whipping his hand through the air, but the child was already struggling to her feet, the wings sparking at her back to help her.

Kanzas watched her as she fled, almost unconsciously sinking to his knees where he stood, the crackling sound of settling wood filling the silence, the smoky haze of the air lifting somewhat in the breeze that blew across the plains. Godsdamn you, Shirley, he thought sourly, driving his clawed fist down into soft, squishy mud as though it was flesh, wiggling the blades a bit to widen the gashes in the earth. I should have killed her - damned Winglies don't deserve life - I don't care if you'd cry-

He bit down hard on his tongue, stabbing the ground repeatedly until he finally let out a gasp and stopped, laughing to himself in a low tone. "Nothing!" he screamed out to the dead village, making fists at his sides. Nothing he could do was right to her; nothing he could be would ever be good enough for any of them- "Nothing, nothing, nothing-! You should be dead! You should have died - oh, Soa, I wish you were dead…I wish you were dead…"

His voice wavered, and he closed his mouth with an almost-audible snap, as if afraid someone might hear it, though nothing remained here except the corpses of Winglies. Tilting back his head, Kanzas took a deep breath, the smell of burned wood filling him as he made himself calm down.

"I would destroy all her enemies," he muttered to the fallen suddenly, as if they were still capable of hearing, "keep her safe from you bastards forever, and she still wouldn't thank me for it. Bah, it's not as if her tears can wash the stains from her hands…" The Dragoon raised his own hand toward the sky, watching the way his bloody fingers seemed to block out the sun above. "Hers or mine," he muttered bitterly, letting it drop with an irritated sigh.

He didn't move for quite some time, feeling the warmth beating down on his back, soaked up by the dark fabric of his clothes, the metal plates sewn into his armored vest. Would the Winglies' patrols come, all too late, to poke through the wreckage, to swear their revenge? Let them, then; it felt too nice to move, his energy spent, his anger for the moment dormant, pooled deep. Constantly surrounded by the coldness of Vellweb, he missed the heat of the Southlands, the clinging humidity beneath the forest's canopy and - yes - even further back than that, the burning of the sand beneath his bare feet, the ocean spray and the terrible sunburn he'd get on the fishing boat every…day…

There was a strong, sharp gust of wind, and Kanzas woke from his half-doze to the sound of Taranis' shriek of warning. The wrist beneath his armguard where his Dragoon Spirit was bound was aching in an increasingly familiar way. She's using the spirit to call for me again! As another Dragon rumbled its own challenging cry, he bent forward and clutched at his temples. "Stay away from me, Shirley! I am not your dog, to come when called! Stay away, or-"

Above him came the rending squeal of claws against hard, shining scales, and he flung his head back up to watch the clash of violet and red, the long neck of Zieg's vassal Dragon, Ember, arching backward and lunging forward again as she fought to embed her teeth into Taranis' shoulder. The small figure of the rider on her back could barely be seen, struggling to hang on.

/Damn it! Taranis! Stop that!/ he commanded impatiently, though pulling himself unhurriedly up out of the drying mud. /Divine Tree, it's just Zieg! Get back here!/

Roaring again, the young Dragon didn't respond for nearly another minute before he finally thrashed his way out of the other's hold, wheeling around in an arc to land heavily behind his Dragoon, beams splintering as his tail crashed through them. He still growled low in his throat as Ember flared her wings with a burst of sparks, setting down a safe distance away.

The blonde Human slid off her back slowly, flexing his fingers as if trying to loosen his grip as he approached, but the look in his eyes was somber as he took in the destruction of the village. "We've been looking for you," Zieg said without preamble as he got within earshot, looking a bit uncomfortable in his cold-weather clothes beneath the heat of this sun.

"Huh," he sneered back, adjusting his weight into a loose, open-legged stance, "you noticed I was gone. How touching."

Disapproval rang clearly in the other man's tone as he said, "I hope you realize the only thing destruction like this will do is to cause the Winglies to retaliate on innocent Humans."

Kanzas rolled his eyes. "Do you think I even give one damn? They were Winglies, and now they're dead. Trash like this, Frahma'd probably thank me for saving him the effort! Killing them is why I'm here and that's what I'll do, so shut the hell up and tell me what you want."

Zieg paused briefly, narrowing his own eyes. Ignoring the contradiction, he continued, a bit formally, "Emperor Diaz orders you to return to Vellweb. You missed the subjugation of Mekadris, and you're not to desert us again."

His face twisted into a snarl, the ball of his foot sinking into the mud as he sprang forward, delivering a hard off-handed punch to the other Dragoon's face. "I am not Diaz's dog, or Shirley's, or yours - you can take your orders and shove them up-"

He cut himself off as Zieg pushed him backward with one hand, the other fist balling up to return the blow, aiming toward his gut. He twisted to deflect it away, pain blooming along the left side of his ribcage. The snarl became an almost feral grin as he raised his claws, driving the blades now without a second thought into the taller man's shoulder.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Zieg tugged his broadsword from its sheath, brandishing it in a wide sweep to drive Kanzas out of reach, making him step back to avoid the strike. He then raised his free hand to try to staunch the blood, his expression grim. "So you do betray us?"

"Betray you?" he scoffed back, laughing suddenly. "I don't know why you all can see me running to the Winglies just because I don't beg with stars in my eyes for Diaz's godsdamned grace. Look around you, damn it!"

"I see nothing here to benefit our cause," he answered stiffly, biting back his pain. "Only another excuse for the Winglies to attack us."

Growling a little, Kanzas spat back, "They've given us our own excuses - you know what they do to people! Spare me the righteousness! The more of them that are dead, the safer your precious Gloriano will be!"

"Then you may not have betrayed our cause, but you have betrayed our trust," Zieg hissed as he pressed his hand more firmly against the wound, fighting to keep a hold on the hilt of his blade as pain wicked downward from the spot into his sword hand.

"You say that like I'm supposed to care," Kanzas drawled, twisting around the extended broadsword to whip his clawed hand forward in an almost snake-like strike. "I don't owe any of you a thing-"

As thin lines of red began to well up across his face, Zieg struggled to control his anger, to keep from slicing back at him and starting a fight for real. They'd both learned from their sparring session in Vellweb how closely matched they were, but he'd already given up much of his advantage, and he was supposed to be persuading him to return. "Even Shirley?" he retorted, unable to keep the note of mocking from his voice. "I doubt-"

He was cut off as the other Dragoon lunged forward, driving his knee sharply into Zieg's solar plexus and shoving him off his feet and into the half-dried mud, pinning him with his weight. As he gasped for breath, taken off-guard, Kanzas twisted his free hand into blonde hair, already beginning the downward thrust of claw to throat. "You don't know anything!" he snarled - and then froze, tensing up with a wince as he felt a strong sensation of alarm inside his head. /The hell - Taranis?/

A moment later, Zieg's grateful confusion turned to worry as he felt the same emotion flash through him as well. Dragging the sword up between them, he shoved Kanzas off him, face twisted in pain as his eyes moved to the sky. The russet-haired man had lost interest in the fight, however, his own eyes narrowing sharply as a large shape blocked out the light of the sun overhead. Though it was in shadows, it looked so familiar-

He cursed as he realized, getting to his feet. It was the thing from the valley - or one just like it, anyway; the odd shape of its strange wings spread above it was what had thrown him off. But the grayish hide was the same, the lumpy green jewel in its middle, the crest and the long-fingered hands. Behind him, Zieg pushed himself up using his sword for support, not at all thrilled by this turn of events.

It hovered above them, seemingly taking in the sight of the destroyed village, the buzzing noise surrounding it the only sound until, suddenly, Taranis lunged. The violet vassal Dragon's scream echoed in the air, a loud warning sound, and he flared his wings, kicking off the ground. The creature jerked into motion in response, its unwieldy body moving surprisingly quickly as it pushed higher into the sky to avoid the attack.

/Taranis!/ Kanzas mentally shouted at him, running a few futile steps. It was just the same as before- /Come back here! You know you can't hurt that thing!/ And, as before, his commands were ignored, the already-chaotic Dragon caught up in a fierce, instinctive hatred toward the unknown creature.

He cursed again, loudly, preparing to transform before he caught sight of the other Dragoon hurrying past him, his gait tinged with pain. Sweat trickled down Zieg's face as he fought to keep Ember from following, holding her there until he could climb up on her back. Kanzas, unasked, quickly moved to catch up with him, catching hold of the harness ropes and hoisting himself up onto the red Dragon even as she lifted off the ground with a strong flap of her wings.

Still looking rather pale as they began to ascend, the blonde man fumbled one-handed at his belt pouch until he came up with a small vial of green liquid, taken from the body of one of the Winglies he'd fought in Mekadris. Splashing the contents of the healing potion against the gashes in his shoulder, he let out a long sigh of relief, finally releasing the pressure of his other hand against the wound. Though blood still darkened his red tunic, it no longer welled up past his skin, the large cuts shrinking considerably.

Behind him, the bearded man shifted to one side a bit to look around him, only one leg secured beneath the harness ropes as they hurtled upward and onward. Though the wind in his face made his eyes water, he tried to keep his gaze focused on the tiny pinpoint in the blue sky ahead, the creature and his vassal Dragon far ahead of them. Glowing golden lights streamed from Ember's wings as she sped to catch up to them.

What's it doing? Kanzas thought angrily, finally settling back to keep from being knocked off the Dragon. It can't be running away - it's leading us someplace, then. But where? The ground far below them wasn't familiar to him, at least from up above like this, though he knew they were still somewhere in the Eastlands, heading west from the Wingly village.

And then, as they passed through a cloudbank, a mountain range came into view on the horizon, the peaks rising before them as they neared. Not long after, the figures of the creature and Taranis began to get larger as well. The pale-gray thing zigzagged this way and that in an attempt to shake off the violet Dragon, who continued to match its movements doggedly, lightning crackling furiously from between his teeth.

"Watch for a Wingly!" Zieg shouted suddenly, tensing up in alertness, leaning forward a bit. Though it took him several tries to be heard over the whistle of the air battering their ears, he was finally able to make himself understood. "One summoned the last one - maybe here, too!" Kanzas nodded tersely in response, having missed it last time, too concerned with Taranis' reaction to the thing to notice that it had been sent for.

As they continued to fly onward, the Dragon at last caught up to the creature, in a final lunge jerking forward to drive his teeth into the joint where the insectile wings attached to its back. The thing thrashed as if in pain, whipping its arm backward, and the Thunder Dragoon winced as the fingers delivered a hard blow to Taranis' neck. His hand moved to cover his armguard, over his spirit, and he scowled, waiting until they were a bit closer to transform. Closer…closer…

With the approach of the second Dragon, the odd thing seemed to try to retreat; descending closer to the peaks they were hovering over, it wove inward as if to hide somehow. As Ember gained speed to charge it, her Human passengers leapt from her back, rings of electricity and streaks of fire brightening the sky, which was quickly becoming quite overcast. Dark clouds rumbled with the promise of a storm, summoned unconsciously by the Violet Dragon's rage.

It was hard to keep up, even with the wings of a Dragoon, as the three larger creatures clashed together, the Dragons driving - or being led - further into the mountain range. Zieg's expression as they flew after suddenly lit up, and he grinned fiercely. Whether by chance or design, the creature and the Dragons were heading straight toward the volcano he knew to be here, the place where he and Shirley had defeated the Grand Fire Dragon and he had received his spirit. Here, both he and Ember would have an advantage against the creature, especially if he was able to borrow his vassal Dragon's power as Belzac and Rose had done before.

Directing her to try to force the thing down into the fiery crater, he flew closer, watching the struggle intently. Near him, Kanzas was doing much the same, until suddenly he tensed, amber eyes flicking this way and that somewhat above the volcano's cone. With only a curt gesture to Zieg to let him know something was going on, he took off, wings flashing a bright green to give power to the charge.

At first, he was confused, until he saw the small burst of lightning reflecting off something shiny. Suddenly understanding, Zieg followed Kanzas after the Wingly who was controlling the creature. For a moment it seemed that he wouldn't notice them until it was too late, but when they were more than halfway there the silver and brown figure summoned up a hail of rocks, trying to use the distraction to escape.

The stones pinged hard against their armor, slicing open cuts here and there on his face, but Kanzas raised his arm to hide his eyes, rushing through the rock storm. He continued to pursue the Wingly as he flew further into the volcano, to where Taranis and Ember had descended.

There were many layers of stone and liquid fire inside, pools and waterfalls of the stuff, and the air was, of course, quite hot, enough to start the sweat dripping down the sides of his face despite their speed. The storm that had been summoned above was letting down rain, though none of it could reach the lava, turned to steam even as it fell and creating a burning haze around them that would have been more than uncomfortable without their armor to protect them.

Furiously, the Dragons thrashed and clawed at the thing, searching for its weakest points and trying to avoid the beams of energy and the glancing blows it was able to deliver. The Winglies' Dragon, Kanzas thought, half out of nowhere, his attention focused mostly on the silver-haired man. In that case, much better to leave its destruction to the Dragons themselves.

Suddenly, he halted himself, moving to fly in a wide arc around the struggling creatures, letting their bodies and the steam of the evaporating rain hide him. He snuck in behind the soldier, whipping his clawed hand inward.

Catching the gleam of the metal just in time, the Wingly turned and lashed out with his foot, taking a swipe to the shoulder before kicking the Dragoon farther away from him, his eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing into anger. Moving with the ease of one who has flown his entire life, the Wingly darted away from him, also using the larger fight as his shield.

Following with his gaze, Kanzas took in a breath and prepared to go after him - and then, with a strangely precise motion, the gray creature twisted sharply from its opponents, reaching out with its hand to pluck the Violet Dragoon from the air.

What the-?! Jarred to a stop, he barely had time to begin to struggle before it lifted him up, smashing him head-first against its broad crest and knocking him out. Almost absently, it let the Human fall from its fingers, a bright flash of light shining as his armor faded, no longer usable.

Flying as fast as he could, Zieg rushed to nearly collide with the body in midair, catching Kanzas over one arm before rising, intending to place him on one of the safer ledges, high and away from the liquid fire. However, before he could get there, the Wingly man charged out from around his creature's other side, wings buzzing with energy as he swung down to tackle the Dragoon.

Cursing as Kanzas fell from his grasp and landed hard on another outcropping not far below, Zieg turned to face his opponent, features twisting into a scowl before he swept upward with his blade in both hands. Though the soldier moved easily to dodge, it carved a nice furrow in his dark brown armor, coming quite close to driving into his thigh. Not letting up, Zieg swung back again, moving quickly in an attempt to fluster him, fire flaring from the length of his sword.

Battered by the blows, the silver-haired man only tried to defend, his expression angry. Turning to intercept Zieg's final attack with a quick block of his sword, the Wingly leapt backward, putting more space between them with the aid of his wings. Sheathing the blade, he raised his hand to his forehead and swung it down, fingers moving in the unmistakable pattern of a spell being cast; the Dragoon could only cringe upon seeing the bright, powerful sigil flare into being right before him, releasing its magic.

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before - or, maybe not - no, it felt exactly like the magical pad that had drained his energy in order to fire the spears at Flanvel, if not more intense. That flame that he always associated with his Dragoon spirit, the warmth inside that responded to the spirit orb, was flickering, dying away, and he let out an involuntary cry, dropping hard to his knee on the ledge below, the red armor fading back into his leathers and cloak without even the customary burst of light.

Looking up with gritted teeth, he saw with hatred the smug expression of the soldier hovering above, small swirls of crimson floating above his outstretched palm. Even as he watched, the stolen energy solidified, dropping into the Wingly's grasp in the form of a small stone.

"Fool," he said succinctly, secreting the stone in his gauntlet before diving down and planting his foot hard into Zieg's chest. The force of the kick knocked him backward, toward the edge of the precipice. "You like using fire, do you? Try it now!"

It only took one more push to knock the stunned Human over the side, and though he caught himself with a hand, the Wingly calmly stomped upon it, smirking. He didn't bother to even watch the blonde man plunge toward the lava far below, turning back toward his other fallen opponent.

Above, the two Dragons were in a furor; he glanced up as he moved almost casually, but the Virage was doing a good job of keeping them at bay. Satisfied that he wouldn't be attacked yet, the soldier came up to the unconscious Human and shoved him with his foot, rolling the crumpled figure over onto his back.

Considering a moment as the man mumbled something, he raised his hand and cast yet another spell, a dark cloud descending around the bearded Dragoon's torso. Finished, he looked down at the prone man briefly with a smirk before pulling back his foot and driving it forward in a hard kick to the ribs.

Pain blossomed in the darkness as the heavy boot descended again, a cracking sound as bone broke audible through the fuzziness inside his head. His eyelids fluttering as he forced himself awake, Kanzas tried to move his arms to fend off the blows, tried to twist away and back to his feet, and found he could do neither.

Slightly frantic now, he opened his eyes to see the face of the Wingly man leering above him, landing one final kick against the Human's throat and making him gag and gasp for breath. Panic rose as he tried to move, defend, but it felt like his arms and chest were dead weight, pinned to the ground. Arm-blocking again - but what-?

"Still think you're clever, Human?" the Wingly sneered, drawing his broadsword from the sheath at his side, the edge of it glittering brightly in the lightning flashes that filtered down through the steam of dissolving rain. Idly, he ran the point of the blade across Kanzas' chest, tearing black cloth and leaving a bright streak of blood in its wake as it came to rest just under his jaw. "Ready to die?"

He fought against the fear, taking a deep breath, the movement creating another deep scratch against his neck. "Then do it!" he finally hissed. Zieg was obviously unable to help, if he was even alive anymore, and from the sounds he could hear and the emotions he could feel from Taranis, the Dragon was occupied as well. Even if he wasn't ready, even if there wasn't enough-

The soldier laughed. "In time, boy." Stepping back, he bent gracefully, catching up Kanzas' left wrist in his free hand and yanking it straight, an odd pendant with a green jewel swinging down from around his neck. The arm, affected by the spell, moved easily no matter how hard he tried to resist. "In time."

Before Kanzas could even inhale, the Wingly swung the sword hard at his upper arm, slicing through the flesh of his bicep to the bone and striking hard there. What felt like liquid fire exploded along his veins, a sharp throbbing protest, and as he drew in air to cry out the Wingly swung again, the edge of the broadsword taking on a slight magical haze.

Images flashed before his eyes - Jidena's arms, legs, her skin, intestines, blood, all scattered across Aglis' stones, the wet sound of her organs slopped down carelessly - the others staked on the wall, impaled, to slowly die, the pleading, the sobs - and he let out a scream, his head scraping back against the ground. It rang out repeatedly with each hit, echoing in the cavernous space, the sound of raw pain and terror. There was no escaping them - he'd get what he deserved-

Bone fractured and finally broke beneath the violent but imprecise strikes, the last one tearing the arm free of the muscle that still held it on. The Wingly stood back, and Kanzas stared at him with blurry vision, barely realizing that what he saw was his own bloody limb dangling from the other's hand. He grinned, waving it grotesquely at the Human for a moment, and then tossed it carelessly to one side. "Wasn't that fun? How about the next?"

The screaming sound echoed still, though he'd since quieted into ragged, panting breaths, as Taranis above shrieked out his rage and worry. However, the attacks of the gray creature prevented him from descending, the storm above increasing in fury. The silver-haired man ignored all of this, reaching for his right wrist now.

Kanzas could hardly feel anything but the blood streaming from the stump on his other side, and yet even past that he could sense the sudden burning of the Dragoon Spirit underneath the bracer around his remaining forearm. He watched dully as his arm was pulled straight, as the sword was lifted-

He heard a loud, bellowing cry, and there was a sudden blur of color before his eyes as Zieg came charging out of nowhere. Though covered with burns from having fallen so close to the lava, he had been able to haul himself up from the little ledge where he'd landed after being thrown over. Smacking the Wingly hard in the chest with his shoulder, he used his momentum to shove him toward the opposite, much nearer pool of liquid fire. The blade clattered to the ground, jarred away, and Kanzas' hand fell back down insensibly, his gasping now of relief.

It happened so suddenly that the soldier was unable to react before he was driven over the edge, had no time to release his wings, one hand reaching to grab for the Red-Eye Dragoon's cloak. Zieg, however, windmilled backward frantically, and the fingers caught only air before their owner disappeared into the lava with a gurgling scream and a splash.

Stumbling back and away from the spray, he cursed softly as he realized the Wingly had taken the stone containing the spirit power of his armor into the lava with him. He didn't pause long to stare, however; as an experienced warrior, he knew what was more important right now, and that he could deal with this unexpected loss later. Exhausted, his scalded skin pale with it, he turned around slowly and stumbled back toward his companion. "Dear Soa," he breathed, shaking his head and sinking to his knees.

The arm-blocking spell had vanished with its caster, but Kanzas didn't make any attempt to move. Despite shock and his own wounds, Zieg immediately began tearing long strips from his burgundy cloak, wrapping them around the arm stump and twisting tight to stop the blood flow.

The other Dragoon didn't seem to respond to either his voice or the sting of his hands binding the remains of his limb, staring up at the sky where the Dragons still battled the creature. It fought on despite the sudden demise of the one controlling it; all three were looking worse for wear now, whether it was the deep gouges in the chalky skin of the thing or the patches of missing scales flayed from draconic hide.

A thought, rather random and fleeting, told him it was a good thing that the Dragons could hurt these creatures after all. There were sure to be more of them, and Wingly masters with them.

/Hey, Taranis. Listen,/ Kanzas thought, focusing everything he had on the words instead of feeling the pain. A flicker of grim humor sounded in the message. /Get its arm for me, will you?/

It took some time for the thought to reach the Dragon through his frenzied emotions, but the strength of his bond with his Dragoon was enough. Whipping his head from side to side, Taranis twisted his body around, aiming to drive his teeth and claws into the joint of the arm. After a moment, Zieg looked up as well, blood-covered hands stilling as he began directing Ember too.

Gobbets of green fluid sprayed from the sudden tear as the Dragon's teeth dug in, Ember on the other side roaring loudly before lunging straight for its midsection. Beams of light shot upward from its eyes crazily, though hitting nothing as it was nearly pulled apart. The thick mucousy stuff rained down, unlike the water fizzling from the clouds, splattering around them as the creature's arm and legs were torn from its body.

Taranis arched back upward with the long-fingered limb in his claws as it came free, but the fire Dragon kept pressing downward, driving the wounded creature toward the lava. It hit the pool hard, sending up a huge gush of the liquid as she arched back into the air, managing to avoid most of it.

Kanzas heard Zieg's sigh of relief, his vision going blurry and returning, and though he was dimly aware that he ought to be glad they'd won, he just couldn't make himself care. Taranis, agitated, flapped back and forth above them, making occasional little dives as if trying to land on the small ledge near him, and he forced himself to think of something to reassure his vassal Dragon, aware that he could easily drift off and the protective beast might attack the others in his defense.

/Go on,/ he thought, feeling the Dragon's worry pounding into him. /We'll be going back north. Go back to your nest./ Taranis still hesitated, however, and he dragged together the shreds of his energy to shout, /Go!/

Finally, with a shrieking cry that echoed down into the volcano, his vassal Dragon shot upward, flapping his wings hard to gain altitude, and disappeared into the clouds, still carrying the creature's limb. Kanzas, satisfied, fell back into numbness again, feeling rather unconcerned about what might happen to him now.

Watching this, Zieg then turned to look down at the fallen man, his expression darkening. "Still bleeding," he muttered, lurching to his feet. "I'll be right back-" he told him, drawing his sword and disappearing from view.

He waited, staring upward absently, and a few moments later Zieg appeared above him once again. He raised his sword, the blade radiating heat even at a distance. "Brace yourself," he warned, and Kanzas tensed, eyes squeezing closed as the other man pressed the heated metal firmly against the remains of his severed arm to cauterize the wound.

His heels drove deep furrows into the ground, his body arching as he bit hard into his lip and tried to fight back another scream. Breaking the skin with his teeth, the only sound that escaped was the gasp when the sword was pulled away, his own blood trickling over his tongue. Almost gratefully, he slipped back into unconsciousness, simply too injured to be able to stay awake any longer.

Letting his sword drop, Zieg shook his head and removed his tattered cloak, covered in sweat and welcoming the loss of the heavy wool. He gingerly but without hesitation moved to wrap up the discarded arm into a sling he could carry, calling for Ember. Rock broke and spiraled downward into the lava as she descended at his call, forcing her way into the smaller space.

He left his own red-hot sword and instead grabbed up the Wingly's superior blade from where it lay nearby, sheathing it at his side. Forcing his exhausted body to keep moving, Zieg slung Kanzas' smaller form over his shoulder and climbed onto his vassal's back. The lava spray hadn't heated the scales on her back too much, at least, and hadn't burned off the halter ropes, for which he thanked Soa profusely. "Home," he murmured aloud once he'd secured himself and the other Dragoon, settling in for the long flight back.

Shattering the ledge as she pushed off, they flew up through the hissing evaporating rain, the storm clouds the violet Dragon had summoned swirling madly around the volcano's cone. Despite Ember's best efforts, she had been wounded as well, and Zieg could feel her discomfort with every glimmering flap of her wings.

He urged her on mentally, fighting to keep awake himself, but it was still several hours before the snowfields of Gloriano spread out beneath them, the cliffs and towers of Vellweb rising out of the span of white. The small dark shapes of soldiers on the ramparts fled as the vassal Dragon descended sharply, nearly crashing down into a perch on the wall, mouth open in silent, reptilian panting.

Kanzas was still unconscious and showing no signs of coming around, and although he wasn't about to try to wake the wounded man and force him to walk, he was still quite awkward to carry. The Fire Dragoon nearly fell from the Dragon's back, landing on his knees in the snow but managing to keep his ally from tumbling into it as well. "Just a little longer," he muttered, looking toward the many staircases with a sinking heart.

Zieg let Ember go with grateful thanks, knowing that the soldiers wouldn't dare to approach until she was away. Dragons had their own healing factor, though it would take some resting in her nest on the southern border before she was up to fighting again. She gave a little roar as she went, and when the swirling snow disturbed by her wings died down enough that he could see, he called over to the nearest figures for help.

The pale-faced men who responded tried to pretend they hadn't been afraid of the large beast, throwing salutes as they recognized two of the Dragon Knights. "Sir, how can we help?" one asked, clearly shocked at their condition.

"Shirley," Zieg huffed wearily, adjusting the wrapped bundle containing the severed arm beneath his own. Gods, but she wasn't going to be pleased, either. "Where is she?"

Taken aback, the two guards looked at each other before one managed to get out, "Lady Shirley is in the palace-"

He cut him off with a curt nod, shifting the prone form sprawled across his legs, teeth chattering from the cold. "Bring him to her, quickly."

Though his voice was fraught with fatigue, it was still quite sharp and stern, and neither of the other Humans dared to say anything further, merely saluting again before moving to carry Kanzas between them. Zieg could hear a quiet oath muttered as he placed the wrapped arm with them, shoving himself upright again and clumsily following after them toward the palace building, which was thankfully not too far away. The long stone bracings, though still unfinished, were already being built down from the spear-shooter on its top, giving the appearance of insectile legs and lending even more of a skeletal look to the giant weapon.

Cold wintry air made the burns on his face and hands ache, and he was glad when they got inside, numbly driving himself up the two flights of stairs as he went with the guardsmen, waved through into the private wing of the palace.

At the end of the hallway they came into, Damia sat on a bench to get the last of the light from the little window there. Upon hearing footsteps, she looked up, going completely white at the sight of their injuries. "Zieg!" the girl gasped, leaping to her feet. "What happened to you two…?"

He shook his head, wincing slightly as he held out a hand to halt her. "It doesn't matter - where's Shirley? And are the others back yet?"

"No, they aren't," she answered, drawing to a stop before she could touch him, her eyes wide in dismay. "Shirley's in Lady Mille's room - I'll go get her." Barely able to drag her gaze away from Kanzas' missing arm, she finally turned and headed just down the hall, admitted by the guard there and disappearing into the room.

Letting out a sigh, Zieg resisted the urge to sink down onto the bench she'd left behind, waiting. However, instead of the short redheaded woman he expected, it was Emperor Diaz who returned with Damia; she gave the other Dragoon a little frowning, almost apologetic look as she trailed behind their ruler.

Taking in the situation, the man shook his head, his already-worried expression deepening further. "What has happened?" he demanded.

Swaying on his feet, Zieg explained quickly, leaving out where he'd found Kanzas for now, though casting an apprehensive glance toward the other man. He wasn't in danger of bleeding to death anymore, however, and so he resigned himself to telling the emperor about the gray creature and the Wingly controlling it. "I'm sure Shirley can help him," he finished, almost as if to reassure himself as well as Diaz. After all, a one-armed Dragoon…

"I am sure she can," he answered rather grimly, "but it will have to wait. She must stay with my wife now until the child is born. I will not take the risk of letting her go." Ignoring Zieg's surprise, he turned to the soldiers waiting with the fallen man. "Take him to one of the guest rooms and make him comfortable," he ordered, the sleeve of his white robe flapping as he waved.

Damia, who had been hesitantly waiting near Kanzas while the story was told, stood back out of the way as they saluted, picking him up again and carrying him away. She once again gave Zieg a look, trying desperately not to speak out.

He sighed again, scrubbing a hand back through his hair despite the pain. His own sister had died in childbirth years ago, and so he could sympathize with his lord's worry, even if he didn't quite approve of this decision. "I…guess that's wise, sir," he managed to say, holding in a wince as he realized how disbelieving that sounded. But Shirley was really the only hope they had - if she couldn't repair the arm, there would be trouble.

The stern look in Diaz's eyes softened a little, and he gave Zieg a nod, already half-turning away. "I understand your concern," he said, "but you understand what is more important here, I'm sure. Now, do excuse me…" Without stopping for an answer, he moved back toward his rooms to wait on his wife's labor.

The other man managed to stay standing until he'd gone again before dropping hard onto the bench, exhaling heavily. Damia crept up to his side, sitting on the edge of the wooden seat herself and looking up at him. "You're hurt too, Zieg," she murmured. "Your skin is all crinkly. Maybe you should get some herbs or a potion or something to put on it?"

"I will," he answered back wearily, leaning against the wall. "It doesn't even hurt much now." Sometimes, he understood, burns were bad enough that they stole all feeling away, in which case going to a herbalist wouldn't help much, anyway; it would probably be best if he waited for Shirley after all. The rays of light outside were beginning to wane with the fall of evening, and he just closed his eyes, only half-aware of the girl's worried questioning beside him.

Of course Diaz would be more concerned about Mille, his possible heir, and the future of Gloriano than one of his warriors - he shouldn't feel so taken aback. However, there was something else about his lord's manner that was making him uneasy - but he was just too tired to figure out what it was.