Thanks everyone who reviewed. I now have a total of four reviews, and while it's not the number I would wish, I am still thankful.

Casey- Yes, I know it's not the most original in the world, but I need to save all my really original thoughts for my own novels. ^_^

Justanormalgamer- Thank you. I try to represent the characters well, which is sometimes a challenge. I'm glad my effort is appreciated. AU stands for Alternate Universe.

Crimson Primrose- I'm really very flattered you think this is one of the best stories you've read. Warm fuzzies, and all that. *LOL*

Okay, now. Review, or no more will be upcoming.

Please see introduction for disclaimer regarding this work.

Chapter Twelve

A Heart Seized with Shadows

Eleven days had passed since Yahla had vanished so abruptly, and Fou-Lu was at his wit's end. Though he knew rationally that it would take more than a week and a half to traverse even one continent in search of a single person, emotionally, he was a wreck. The last time Yahla had been pregnant, she had nearly died, so he knew all to well how vulnerable she would be. And Fou-Lu, intrepid immortal afraid of no threat to his person, was terrified of losing her again.

The situation was made worse by the fact that he had no one to confide in or lean on. He had sent Won-Qu out to join A-Tun on the hunt days earlier, and there was no way he would confide in the mortals under his command. He had known them for less than a month, and he was not so quick to trust individuals who had but recently been under Soniel's thumb.

But at times he needed to think, to drop the mask he held so rigidly at all other moments. Then, he would retire to his chambers, where only he dared tread, or to one of the miradors at the very peak of the castle, which were frequented by none except the occasional guardsman. Those he could deal with, and order elsewhere.

The emperor was there at the moment, ensconced on one of the most out of the way balconies, arms crossed as he gazed out at Chedo. He had the most scenic view in all of the city, the houses and merchant shops stretching out below him like lines of ants. Shades of every imaginable color lined the streets and roofs, a motley parade of humanity. It did not interest him; the god-emperor had seen it all before. Instead, his eye was drawn back, over walls and fields to where the horizon blended with the sky. Yahla was somewhere out there, no doubt helpless and alone. What would happen to her? I wouldst do aught for her to returnest hither, but though I cry her presence, no sign there be of her. Glancing about once to assure himself that no one was there, he slid down to sit against the wall of the parapet, burying his head in his hand. I hadst forgotten how mishappy I be when she is not with me…now, 'tis drawn to memory all too expressly… Lonely and separated from the only living being that understood him fully, he sighed.

The scuffle of a footfall broke the silence, and Fou-Lu stiffened, his hands dropping away from his face. He met the gaze of the mortal who dared disturb him, too startled to cover his weakness. For a moment, his grief and vulnerability stayed painted across his face, and his golden eyes were pained. They were as doors to his soul, worn with indecision and obligation.

The doors shut, the mask returned, and the walls the dragon-god had built around himself rose again, steely and impenetrable. Fou-Lu got gracefully to his feet, expression cool and inimical. A final glance at the scenery that was Chedo, and he turned to gaze emotionlessly at the intruder. "General Rhun."

The middle-aged man acknowledged his name, bowing his head as he walked to stand several feet from the dragon's side. The bands of silver that streaked his brown hair and beard and the wrinkles lining his face marked his advanced age. The emperor, though displeased, was glad it was the general rather than another human that had disturbed him. Other mortals groveled, which was annoying when it got too extreme, and would use their knowledge of his vulnerability for their own ends. The well-built general, who had managed to keep a full head of hair in spite his age, did not seem the backstabbing type. He would, most likely, keep that which he had seen to himself. Not that Fou-Lu trusted him. Fou-Lu never trusted anyone who hadn't earned it.

"Your Majesty," Rhun said gravely, his voice deep and mature with age. "What is wrong?"

Fie! Saveth me from the fair intentions of well-meaning mortals… "Naught," he answered stiffly, not a flicker of emotion showing. He used the royal 'we deliberately, showing his disdain for meddling humans. "We dost not desire nor need thine aid. Pray thee depart."

The general stepped closer, looking questioning, and concerned. "I'm sorry, Your Imperial Majesty, but if there is a problem that relates to Empire, shouldn't you let us know about it?"

"We said, quit this place!" he growled, irritated. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, not harassed by this impudent human. The mortal didn't budge, and Fou-Lu's eyes narrowed. The last time a mortal had so defied him had been centuries ago. Of course, that had been under unusual circumstances…

He suddenly laughed, startling Rhun. "Tell us, General, art thou mayhap related to the second Emperor? Mal-Heu?" the dragon inquired, a smile smoothing the anger from his features.

The human was surprised, but hid it well, though he could not help the inquisitive frown that spread across his face. "Indeed, Your Majesty. My many-times grandfather was his youngest son. These days the connection is distant enough that my family is not considered related to the late Soenil." It was understandable. Twelve generations was a long time in human terms. "But how did you know, Your Imperial Majesty?" he asked after a pause.

"Thou art the descendent of Mir-Su?" Fou-Lu exclaimed with some delight, pleased to find that Mal-Heu's line had lived beyond that despicable idiot Soenil. He should not have been surprised to find descendents in the army. After all, both Mal-Heu and his father before him had been officers in the military. "Or didth our old friend have another son after we didst gift him the throne?"

"Mir-Su is my ancestor," Rhun confirmed, forgetting for a moment who he was speaking to. "But you must tell me how you knew."

Fou-Lu's smile faded, his face turning cold. Wert thou not Mal-Heu's progeny… "For the sake of thine ancestors, we shalt ignore that, but thou art to remember, General, that we needs must do naught."

The general bowed his head, expression unreadable. "My apologies, Your Majesty."

The emperor acknowledged him with a slight but gracious nod. "As to thy question, mortal, thy forefather was a intimate friend of ours, and thy similarities be remarkable."

"Similarities, Your Majesty?" Rhun queried, raising a brow.

The god-emperor chuckled. "'Twas he that was the sole human who e'er dared hound us when we didst not wish to answer."

"I see. Well then, would perhaps answer my original question, for his sake, Emperor?" the general asked.

Fou-Lu sighed. Humans know not when to cease. "Very well. There be no new threat to the Empire. Our distress is a personal matter. Pray leave it be."

General Rhun blinked, then said cautiously, "I did not know that gods were affected by…personal matters."

"And what doth thou know of gods, General?" he replied sarcastically, turning his back on the human. The dragon stared gloomily out at his city, eyes hooded. "Thou art but mortal."

"Well, yes. That is so. But I have heard tales, most of which claim gods only concern themselves with higher affairs." The mortal walked over to lean on the parapet at the emperor's side, following the dragon's gaze out into the city. "Is that true?"

Fou-Lu was silent a long moment, then he smiled wryly. "Thou art attempting to induce us to imparten to thee what is amiss. It shall not work."

"I see my motives have been uncovered." The general smiled as well, and said no more, watching the city below. His wrinkled and liver-spotted hands rested on the edge of the wall as he leaned forward to follow the movement of the people on the ground.

Fou-Lu watched the horizon, long moments passing as both dragon and mortal stood in silence. I had desired someone to confide mine worries in…and he is the scion of Mal-Heu.

"Mine wife be missing." The god-emperor's voice broke through the silence, though it was little more than a whisper. He barely noticed he had abandoned the royal 'we' and now spoke to Rhun as a near equal.

"Pardon?" Rhun turned towards him, questioning. The emperor remained staring out to where the earth met the sky.

"Mine wife be missing," he repeated, raising his voice slightly. "And I canst not find her, for I be needed here." The dragon ran a hand through his hair, adjusting the red band that secured it.

"You have a wife, Your Majesty?" The general looked surprised, and the emperor could swear his mouth had dropped a few inches. Of course, the mustache and beard made it harder to tell, and Fou-Lu once again was profoundly grateful dragons did not grow facial hair.

"She is a dragon, as mineself," He replied, looking sad. Rhun noticed the dragon's hands were gripping the wall tightly enough that his knuckles had turned white. "In a battle with the late Soenil and his minions, a spell was cast that transported her from mine grasp. She, as a god, shouldth not have been affected by it, but she was pregnant, and thus vulnerable. I knew it not at the time, else I ne'er wouldest have taken her into battle at mine side." He closed his eyes, distressed by the memory.

"Your wife is pregnant?" Rhun repeated, even more shocked.

Fou-Lu opened aureate eyes and turned to glare at him, annoyed. "Dost thou intendest to repeten all mine speech?"

"I apologize, Your Majesty." The general said quickly.

Fou-Lu nodded distractedly, and said nothing. Finally, he looked back at Rhun. "An thou be telling any being of this, I shalt kill thee," the dragon said in an affable tone. He smiled disarmingly at the human, but his eyes were serious.

"I…see," the general said, uncertain how to interpret the god-emperor's sudden changes of mood."

"I be glad we understand each other." Fou-Lu smiled ferally at him a last time, before turning back to gaze moodily at the sky.

Taking it as a dismissal, General Rhun quickly left.

"You can't be meaning to go out like that, lassie," Dalindrar protested, sounding quite fed up by her refusal to see reason. He had been trying for several minutes now, and it didn't work. "You've a bun in the oven, so to speak, and you wouldn't likely stand a chance out there!" The dwarf was genuinely concerned; he had grown fond of the dragoness in the past few days, regarding her much like a wayward niece.

Somewhat prone to mood swings and irrational thoughts due to the influx hormones throughout her body, Yahla had decided to leave Dalindrar's protection and make for the Empire. He thought she was insane, and had told her so. She had recovered from her deprivation of water and food, but the female was far more vulnerable than she would admit, especially since she constantly overestimated her body's own capabilities and refused to back down when it betrayed her. She was a dragon, she was proud, and she wouldn't last a minute on her own.

The 'bun in the oven' reference threw her off for a moment, but the dragoness stayed fixed in her stance. "Mayhap 'twould be of greater prudence, but I wilt not have mine son birthed in a smithy, nor asunder mine husband's side!" Her voice was sharp and obviously angry at his attempts to prevent her departure.

The dwarf stifled a groan, rubbing his forehead in response to the headache growing there. "Ho…look, lassie, don't be going off all halfcocked. You just climb down off your high horse and listen to me." He made eye contact the best he could, hindered by the distance of several feet. The dragoness didn't help much, at first refusing to look at him at all. At last, she turned golden eyes to meet his brown, sullen and smoldering.

Once Dalindrar was certain he had Yahla's attention, he said gently, "Now, you're not strong enough to take on a human form, were you to leave. You're pregnant, and you're but a pint-sized creature for all that you've got cheek. You don't have any idea how to get back home, you're flush in the center of enemy territory, and you're going to attract a hell of a lot of looks just looking the way you do." The dwarf cut of her attempt to protest before it had even left her mouth. "You and me both know you'll go whether I like it or not, but won't you wait a couple of days, lassie? I've an idea, something to help you out on the way." The goddess looked skeptical, so he added, "Trust me."

The sincerity in Dalindrar's rough voice apparently convinced her. She sighed, eyes downcast, and nodded.

"Good." The dwarf smiled, a openly ugly expression that still managed to convey his relief. Gesturing for her to follow him, he walked over to one of the crates she had noticed numerous times. Only one of four was opened, lid pried off with a handy crowbar. Dalindrar, grin still in place, lifted something reverently from the depths of the box. "Take a gander at this," he indicated as the silver chime of metal brushing metal rippled through the room.

Yahla held her breath appreciatively as he held it up for her to view. It was a full suit of scale-mail, inlaid in silver and tipped with gold. Dalindrar shook out the folds and brushed a hand lovingly over the metal surface. He looked up to see her reaction, but she, for once, had found herself speechless.

"It was made for a human, plain as day," the dwarf explained, holding the armor up to see how it would fit on her. It was slightly overlarge, but nothing that couldn't be fixed. "But if you give me a bit of time, I reckon I can shape it to fit you. Won't have to worry about wounds, then. And since you'll likely be gaining in weight, I'll make it so you can adjust the stomach and hip size."

Immensely moved by his offering, Yahla went down on her knee, eyes level with the dwarf's and impulsively gave him a hug. Dalindrar was as surprised as she was. In her life, she had only hugged Fou-Lu before, but she was a mother-to-be. She was allowed to be irrational.

"'Tis beautiful," she whispered, turning her arm to watch the ripple of metal. Dalindrar beamed with pride, and Yahla smiled. "Thou art a great master of thy trade."

The armor the dwarf had presented to her after several days of labor was marvelous. It fit like a second skin, leaving only her extremities uncovered. It hung slack around her waist, but he had also given her an item reminiscent of a metal girdle that kept the armor trim against her form. Right now she had it on the tightest setting, though the girdle could be adjusted as she increased in size. That would probably come in handy before she was through.

"Aw, it's nothing," Dalindrar said modestly. "If you gave me a couple weeks, I could make you a real suit of armor, but I'm thinking it'll have to do. Leastwise if you're so eager to get on out of here."

She smiled and nodded slightly, leaning down to hug the dwarf. He returned it fiercely, and she suspected he would miss her, too. Twice in but a week…I be getting soft… Then she stood, shouldering the haversack he had given her. "Fare thee well, Dalindrar," Yahla said softly, aware that she would probably never see him again, "I be not forgetting thy kindness."

"Take care of yourself, lassie," the dwarf growled, trying to hold back his emotions. "I don't want to be hearing about your death anytime soon."

With a last glance at her benefactor, she left, heading down the passage that led to the outside of the mountain. She disappeared from the dwarf's sight in moments, and from his life. Dalindrar stared after her, absently twirling the tip of his beard between his fingers. "Good luck, lassie. I think you'll be needing it."