Chapter One
Talia gasped, struggling to wrench herself away from the last of the nightmare. She whimpered into the cool darkness of her room and automatically listened for the death bell to chime. But it was silent. She shook her head to clear out the confusion. She had felt a herald's death, just as she had so many times before. So where was the bell? She slid out of bed and pressed her forehead against the windowsill. Normal night sounds drifted lazily up to her. The night seemed perfectly peaceful. Perversely, that only worried her more. Grabbing the robe that she had carelessly flung on a chair before going to bed, she hurried down the stairs towards companion's field.
Skif tossed restlessly, trying vainly to get back to sleep. In a burst of vexation he balled up his uncooperative blankets and hurled them across the room. He swore softly as a biting gust of wind tore into his room, only making him more uncomfortable. He awkwardly rolled out of bed and started to stumble toward the blankets, but something made him stop. He found himself drawn toward the window and staring anxiously at the field below. He sent a tentative mind call out to Cymry, but there was no response. Biting his lip he grabbed some clothing and flung himself out the door, keeping his eyes on the window the entire time.
Talia walked across the damp grass cautiously, and was on the verge of ripping out a hidden dagger when she slammed violently into Skiff. "Hells lady-o, what are you trying to do to me?" He muttered crossly. "Skiff!" She cried, half angrily, half relieved. "What are you doing out here?" He stared distractedly across the field. "I really wish someone would tell me." "What?" He started to explain but suddenly went white and shot his hand out to quiet her. She tensed. "Look at the grove." His voice was a harsh whisper. She followed his line of sight and saw a flicker of movement. "Human?" She asked, never taking her eyes off the shadow. "Think so." "Herald?" "No, it's not wearing whites. And it's moving far too cautiously to belong here." He slid his hand along his leg and Talia knew he was reaching for a dagger hidden in his boot. He began to cross toward the grove, and this time it was Talia's turn to stop him. He turned to her in surprise. "The companions." He looked around, confused at the awed tone of her voice. To his shock, every companion in the field was moving steadily toward the grove. However they didn't hurry, their ears were perked forward, and they seemed more to be preparing to greet a friend than disembowel an enemy. "Maybe we should follow them." Talia said hesitantly. He would have responded, but neither of them had any choice in the matter. They found themselves moving across the grass with purpose, and neither of them had the faintest idea why.
Talia gasped, struggling to wrench herself away from the last of the nightmare. She whimpered into the cool darkness of her room and automatically listened for the death bell to chime. But it was silent. She shook her head to clear out the confusion. She had felt a herald's death, just as she had so many times before. So where was the bell? She slid out of bed and pressed her forehead against the windowsill. Normal night sounds drifted lazily up to her. The night seemed perfectly peaceful. Perversely, that only worried her more. Grabbing the robe that she had carelessly flung on a chair before going to bed, she hurried down the stairs towards companion's field.
Skif tossed restlessly, trying vainly to get back to sleep. In a burst of vexation he balled up his uncooperative blankets and hurled them across the room. He swore softly as a biting gust of wind tore into his room, only making him more uncomfortable. He awkwardly rolled out of bed and started to stumble toward the blankets, but something made him stop. He found himself drawn toward the window and staring anxiously at the field below. He sent a tentative mind call out to Cymry, but there was no response. Biting his lip he grabbed some clothing and flung himself out the door, keeping his eyes on the window the entire time.
Talia walked across the damp grass cautiously, and was on the verge of ripping out a hidden dagger when she slammed violently into Skiff. "Hells lady-o, what are you trying to do to me?" He muttered crossly. "Skiff!" She cried, half angrily, half relieved. "What are you doing out here?" He stared distractedly across the field. "I really wish someone would tell me." "What?" He started to explain but suddenly went white and shot his hand out to quiet her. She tensed. "Look at the grove." His voice was a harsh whisper. She followed his line of sight and saw a flicker of movement. "Human?" She asked, never taking her eyes off the shadow. "Think so." "Herald?" "No, it's not wearing whites. And it's moving far too cautiously to belong here." He slid his hand along his leg and Talia knew he was reaching for a dagger hidden in his boot. He began to cross toward the grove, and this time it was Talia's turn to stop him. He turned to her in surprise. "The companions." He looked around, confused at the awed tone of her voice. To his shock, every companion in the field was moving steadily toward the grove. However they didn't hurry, their ears were perked forward, and they seemed more to be preparing to greet a friend than disembowel an enemy. "Maybe we should follow them." Talia said hesitantly. He would have responded, but neither of them had any choice in the matter. They found themselves moving across the grass with purpose, and neither of them had the faintest idea why.