Ragnarok: Well kids, it's finally happened. Shade has snapped and run off to…well, frankly, I could care less. The important thing is, in her absence, in accordance with some obscure document she can't remember writing because she was most probably drunk on non-alcoholic punch at the time, I am now completing the fan fiction. Yes. Right here, right now. And there's absolutely nothing that you can do about it. –Insert maniacal laughter here- …Ahem.

And the city went BOOMETH, and there was much fire and burninating. Ayrel ran through the streets like the little pansy-girl she was, with her boots all alight and her dragon buster all a-busted. As she ran, a building fell on her head. Hahaha. A burninating one. And she went SQUISHETH. Laugh. I laughed.Hahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-

Ragnarok: HEY!

Shade: -Pulling the laptop out of his reach and shooting him dirty looks- Sheesh. I leave you alone for one minute to go to grab a cookie, and see what happens. –Scans quickly through Ark's 'ending'- Wow. Are you on anything Arkie? Burninating? That's it. No more cotton candy for you!

Ragnarok: And what is that supposed to accomplish?

Shade: -Thinks this over for a moment. At last, fuddled and unable to think of a logical answer she smacks Arkie upside the head with her laptop and toddles out of the room to hunt penguins-

Silverwing: Pictures on tapestries? One of them was most likely Dart, yes. Mwahahah… like she'll ever make the connection, though…

Solana's POV:

Even before I opened my eyes I knew I had slept late. Lying face down with the covers pushed back from my shoulders I could hear the muted clamor and bustle of the crowds in the street below. The night's festivities seemed to have little effect on the townspeople; now that the time for celebration was over they settled back into their sober lifestyle without complaint. Meaning that while there were no drunken brawls in the middle of the street and no parades or shows, the noise pollution didn't allow for much rest.

Next to me Cai gave an almighty snore and rolled over, taking my share of the bed covers with him.

Without the quilts the chill autumn air that lingered in the room closed in on me and I got up hurriedly, grabbing my cloak from where it hung off the back of a chair and wrapping it about my shoulders. Back in the bed Cai slept on, oblivious.

The room that we had rented was small but well furnished with a large bed, a pair of chairs, and a washstand and mirror. The water in the washstand had not been changed since our arrival the night before, and it was chilly when I splashed it over my face. A thin band of dirt had formed around the waterline of the bowl: dust, from when we had washed quickly the prior night. I reached for the washcloth draped over the side of the bowl, but let my hand fall before I could reach it. I could still feel the grime from the past week ground into my skin; scrubbing my face with a bit of damp cloth wasn't going to do me any good.

The bathhouses were in the inn's cellar; a steamy, hot room partitioned into floor-to-ceiling stalls by wooden barriers. The air was heavy with moisture and quiet; this late in the morning, there were few people interested in bathing. Choosing a stall I went inside and shut the door firmly behind me, undressing and setting my clothes in a cabinet set aside for the purpose. A chain hung against the far wall; I tugged it hard and from somewhere in the ceiling above there came a clunk, followed by a rushing sound and hot water started to sprinkle through the sieve-like grate above my head.

Taking a handful of brown, slimy soap from the clay jar set on the floor I began to wash. Dirt fell away in what felt like layers. Leaning back my head, I enjoyed the feel of the water trickling through my braids. It felt good; I hadn't had much time to relax since the incident back in Tiberoa.

Cai and I had ridden to Doneau in turns, cutting across country to avoid the main highway, which was just as well. Upon arriving in the port we had discovered that the Moon Child was searching for anyone who had been present during the virage's appearance. Carrying the dragoon spirit around in such conditions is a strain on the nerves, so Cai and I had bartered for passage on the first vessel we had come across. This hadn't been easy; between the two of us we had little of value that we could trade. In the end we had managed, though as part of the agreement Cai spent most of his waking hours working on deck while I was confined to a cabin below. Needless to say, it was hardly a comfortable way to travel. The ship made good time on the crossing however, and so we didn't have to spend a minute more on that damp, dreary vessel than we had to. But it was only once we arrived in port that the real trouble began.

I hadn't expected for the spirit to react, any more than I had expected to find us cornered by more dragoons. And as for what had happened…I reached for another handful of soap and started scrubbing at my hair.

Zion and Kaelin. Two more dragoons on the run from the temples, although apparently for reasons somewhat different from my own. And then there was Ry; no one seemed to be certain entirely what was happening with him, although from what I'd gathered he was also in hiding. Three of them, then. United against a purpose so obscure that only Ry seemed to have the fuzziest idea of what it was about. The explanation he had given us last night was, after all, hardly satisfying. Kaelin had grumbled about this for a few minutes after he had left, though in a steady, low undertone so that I couldn't clearly make out anything that she was saying.

And where did I stand in all of this? Ry had told me to take my time deciding, but really I couldn't see that I had all that many options open to me. Cai and I could continue to run and risk capture, but that would still leave the problem of the dragoon spirit. I still knew almost nothing about it, but an inner voice told me that for as long as I bore it trouble would be tagging at my heels. And for as long as that continued, Cai would be in danger. On the other hand, if I agreed to travel with the three of them I would still face trouble, but at least there would be others at my back. I would be able to learn to control my dragoon spirit. And yet without a spirit, Cai would once again be in danger. In that respect, it was a no-win situation.

Finishing up with my shower, I scrubbed myself dry with a towel and dressed again. Draping the towel over my head to try to sop some of the water out of my pleats, I shoved the door open and stepped back out into the steam-clouded bath cellar, my thoughts still on the problem. It was a no-win situation, unless…

Reluctantly I stepped out of the steam-soaked heat of the chamber, shutting the door and walking into the brightly-lit cellar, steam still rising gently off my limbs in the comparatively cool air. I didn't like the idea, but the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that it was the only way out.

Cai was no where to be found when I returned to our room. There was, however, a paper-wrapped package on the end of the bed containing a fresh change of clothes and a plain belt knife. Kaelin's work, I surmised. She had mentioned the night before that we would need different clothes, seeing as finery, even dusty and torn finery, attracted too much attention. Discarding my old clothes, I changed quickly, not without a sense of relief. The cloth was somewhat coarser than what I was used to, but it was wonderful and warm after the thin fabric of my riding dress. Standing back to examine the effect of my new outfit in the washstand mirror, I nodded with some satisfaction. A long, heavy woolen green skirt topped by a plain brown tunic, belted at the waist. Retrieving the hood from where it lay on the bed I put it on, wrapping the thick ties loosely around my neck instead of tying them.

Returning back downstairs, I wandered past the reception desk and through the arched wooden doorway into the taproom. It was well lit and surprisingly clean, given last night's celebrations. Round wooden tables were scattered throughout the room, surrounded by clusters of stubby, three-legged stools. The dark wainscoting and scraped plaster of the walls were worn and cracked, stained dark by smoke and ash near the fire and lamps, faded and sun bleached near the windows. On the tables candles, still unchanged from last night, sat in congealed pools of their own wax on cast iron plates, the wicks trimmed and waiting to be lit. At the far end of the room a wooden bar stretched from wall to wall, fronted by a row of scarred and battered stools. Behind it stood a stout woman with a stern, no-nonsense expression permanently fixed on her face, wiping empty tin tankards on her apron. Though there were no lamps lit the air smelled faintly of burning oil, mingled with the tantalizing scents of frying fish and old wine.

At this hour the room was almost deserted; only two people lingered about the tables. One was a soppy looking old man dressed in nondescript browns with lank salt-and-pepper hair, his expression mournful as he stared into the depths of his mug. The other was Kaelin, idly chewing on the meaty end of a beef bone as she gazed out of a nearby window. When I entered her head came up, the beef bone dropping back onto her plate. She waved me over before retrieving it again, sticking the end in her mouth and picking up her knife to prod at a lump of yellow-colored mush in the center of her plate.

Pulling a stool out from the table I sat across from her. "Isn't it a little early for lunch?"

She shrugged, spitting out the now-clean bone and reaching for her mug. "It's too late for breakfast. Besides, I'm hungry now." She took a quick drink, at the same time indicating the mush on her plate with her knife. "Mrrph…" she wiped her mouth. "Do you have any idea what this goop is? I'm of two minds about it."

"I think it's cornmeal." I watched as she took a lump of the stuff on the end of her knife, eyeing it somewhat dubiously. "Thank you for the clothes, by the way," I added, remembering myself.

"Thank Ry. It was his money at any rate." Kaelin shook her head. "I've been mooching coin off him for a week now. Keeps saying that he's nearly broke, but as far as I can tell he hasn't hit bottom yet." Finally taking a taste of the mush, she seemed to decide it was okay. "Are you looking for your husband? He just went outside a few minutes ago."

"Ah." I leaned forward against the tabletop. The smell of roasting fish was making my stomach growl.

"So," Kaelin said, pushing away her plate once she'd finished her meal, "Have you made up your mind yet?"

"What? Oh, that." I sat up again. "Sort of. I think I need to talk it over with someone first."

She nodded understandingly. "Ry should be back soon. He went out with Zion an hour or two ago."

As if on cue the inn's double doors swung open to admit Zion, Ry, and Cai. They were just visible through the taproom door; Ry and Cai were arguing heatedly in low voices. Zion moved a bit away from them, cradling a long pole, its end wrapped in burlap sacking, in his arms.

Kaelin's stool scraped across the floor as she got to her feet, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. "Men!" She said in a disgusted voice. "Can't let them go three minutes without one of them starting a fight." Grabbing me by the elbow as she passed, I found myself dragged along behind her. She let go as we reached the trio, grabbing Ry by the arm instead and giving him a hard tug.

Ry paid her no notice. "…You can't protect her forever! She needs-"

"How in the name…what makes you think you know what she needs! All you care about is that bloody stone!"

"Even if the two of you should decide to remain on your own, she'll need it! You can't be there to coddle her every step of the way! She needs to protect herself! I don't see why you're so set against it!"

"What would you know about it!" Cai shouted, his face flushed and his breathing coming in short, heavy gasps. "I'm almost starting to wish that we had stayed in Tiberoa! At least then we wouldn't have had to…"

What exactly we wouldn't have had to do, I never found out. Cai trailed off suddenly as Ry reached out and seized the front of his tunic, twisting the fabric and jerking him so that he lurched almost painfully forward and up onto his toes. Though I knew that Cai must have been the taller of the two by several inches Ry suddenly seemed to loom over him, hauling him back down so that they were eye to eye. In that moment I saw a flicker of uncertainty cross Cai's face; Ry's eyes were cold and flat, unblinking as he glared back.

Almost without thinking I started forward, half-reaching out toward Cai, when Zion grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me back. Kaelin, I had noticed, had let go of Ry's arm the moment he had moved and now stood back, her eyes darting from Cai's face to Ry's. Zion eased his grip, but didn't remove his hand from my shoulder. "Don't do anything," He murmured out of the corner of his mouth. He didn't move, but the tension in the air around him was so thick that it could have been cut with a knife.

"Listen closely, Cai, because I'm only going to say this once. You can take all of your bloody sentimental righteous rage and stuff it. That spirit chose your wife to wield it against forces you couldn't even begin to contemplate, let alone defend her against. That monster in Tiberoa was nothing." He spoke softly, but his voice could have frozen a forge. "Face it, Cai. You can't protect her anymore. Solana's fate is greater than anything either of you could imagine and whatever you may like to pretend, she'll have no choice in the matter when destiny takes up the collection." He released Cai so suddenly that my husband actually staggered backward a couple of steps, trying to regain his balance. Without looking at him Ry stalked past, the hem of his overcoat fluttering in the wake of his strides as he headed for the stairs.

For several long moments the only sounds were Cai's heavy breathing and Ry's retreating footsteps as he disappeared up the stairs. At last when the sound of his tread had faded completely Zion dropped his hand from my shoulder, letting out his breath in a vehement hiss as I hurried to Cai's side. "You have to be the luckiest damn idiot on the face of this earth, you know that?"

Kaelin looked unsettled but turned to Zion with an annoyed expression on her face. "I let you guys out of my sight for a few hours, and already you're picking fights with each other. What's up with you?"

Zion looked startled at the accusation, but shook his head. "Don't look at me. He started it!" He pointed at Cai, who was shooting glances back over his shoulder as though expecting Ry to appear at the head of the stairs at any moment. "Yell at him. Oh, right." He held out the pole that he had been holding to me, as though only remembering now that he had it. "You might as well take this now."

"What?" Surprised, I took it. "What is this?"

"It's called a trident." He gestured to the burlap sacking covering the business end of the weapon. "I'd leave that on for now, but later on one of us can show you something of how to use it. Always assuming," he added, looking pointedly at my husband, "that you're allowed."

Kaelin snorted. Cai looked away so that I couldn't see his face. "Go ahead," he said heavily.

I felt a pang of guilt. When we had taken our wedding vows, Cai had also taken up a vow of guardianship, to be my sole protector against any trials I may face as a member (however distant) of the Tiberoian Royal House. Though this was more of a formality than anything else, Cai had taken it to heart from the outset. He had been at my side for years, watching my back as my family waded through the slough of political schemes and plots that are always afoot in any royal court. And now, with one ironic twist of fate, the roles, it seemed, were about to become reversed.

Zion looked as though he was about to say something else but hesitated, looking first from Cai's turned back, then to my face. "Uh…" He scratched the back of his head, looking awkward. "Look, why don't we all just grab something to eat and forget about it, okay? I haven't had lunch yet and I'm pretty sure Ry'll calm down if we just give him a bit of space for now." His words were tactful, but I caught the significant look he shot Kaelin when he thought I couldn't see. "How about it?"

Kaelin crossed her arms and shook her head. "I already ate."

"Fine. Whatever." Zion gave her a slightly exasperated look, then grabbed Cai by the shoulder and I by the elbow. "C'mon. When I say I'm hungry, I mean it."

Without waiting for comment he dragged us both through the arch into the taproom toward a table. Cai grumbled a bit but I followed without complaint, though I did take one last look over my shoulder in time to see Kaelin disappear up the stairs after Ry.

Dart's POV:

The wooden slats supporting the cot creaked dangerously as I threw myself down on the flimsy thing, folding my arms behind my head and staring up at the low beams of the ceiling. Even though the room was somewhat chilly I had discarded my coat and shoved it into the corner, heaped around the base of my sword that sat in its scabbard propped against the wall. The room's only window was thrown wide open and the shutters, unbolted, swung back and forth in the wind, occasionally smacking into the window frame. The room might warm some if someone would shut the window, but really… I rolled over onto my front and shut my eyes. Let someone else do it.

Tired? Already?

Ark? Just do me a favor and shut your mouth

What mouth? Ark replied sardonically. You weren't getting anywhere fast on your own back there Dart. Reasonable words weren't getting you anywhere

Facedown, the worn fabric of the quilt was soft and wrinkled against my cheek, slightly moist and warmed by my breath. I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. Just let it lie, okay? I really didn't need to deal with this today

Didn't need to deal with what? That man is just sore. If he hadn't leapt down your throat at this, it would have been over something else. At least now he ought to stay out of your way

Maybe. But it'll be a miracle if we can get him to trust us after this

We don't need him, Dart. We need the woman Ark said slowly, in tones of one explaining something very simple to one who is very stupid. He can go and throw a party on the Moon for all that I care, just so long as he doesn't go running back to Ayrel

I don't think that he'd go quite that far I disagreed, but if he doesn't trust us, then we could be hard-pressed to convince Solana to come along with us. If she doesn't come, then I'm going to have to take the spirit from her by force, and that's the last thing I want to have to worry about

True. The spirit might not take another bearer Ark mused. But no wind dragoon at all is better than one serving under Ayrel

"Mmrrm…" I rolled over again and shut my eyes, a muscle in my cheek twitching as a hair, caught on an errant breeze, tickled the tip of my nose. Someone really ought to shut that window.

There was a knock at the door. "Ry? You in there?" The door opened hesitantly, the hinges creaking slightly in protest as Kaelin slipped in, shutting the door again quite firmly behind her.

I didn't bother opening my eyes. "Shut the window, would you? It's freezing in here."

Her footsteps advanced across the room, and a moment later I heard the shutters close and the scrape of the latch settling into place. "If it's so cold, why didn't you just do it for yourself? And if you're going to lie on a bed, at least take off your boots. You're going to get mud all over the quilt."

"Whose turn is it to sleep on it tonight?"

"Yours."

With a sigh I heaved myself up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to rest my feet on the floor. "Very well. What brings you all of the way up here? I didn't think you'd miss out on an opportunity to scold Zion." I gave my head a shake, then raked my fingers through my hair, dragging it back from my face. It fell back into place immediately, as incurably scruffy as always.

"I can find something to scold Zion about anytime I want to," she sniffed. "Problem is, I don't think that he was the one causing the problem in this instance."

"Ah." I flashed her a quick, tight grin. "So you're here to scold me then."

Kaelin flopped down into the overstuffed armchair that was the room's extra luxury, added, I'm sure, only to make up for the lack of a proper washstand. "Maybe," she admitted. She leaned back into the chair, hooking one of her legs up over the padded arm. "What no one seems to want to tell me is what happened. I can't exactly scold until I know, right?" She gave me a questioning look, waiting.

I shrugged, then kicked off my boots so that I could sit cross-legged on the cot. "There's not much to tell. Zion and I decided to pick up a weapon for Solana. Cai ran into us on the way back and seemed to take offence." I shrugged. "Like I said, not much to tell."

"You two seemed pretty worked up over it."

"He struck a nerve. I hate it when people object just for the sake of making things difficult."

I just hate it when people object

That's because you're a control freak Mainly for Kaelin's benefit, I affected an embarrassed look. "I will admit that I went a little far, though."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You seemed to get your point across." Kaelin picked at a loose thread sticking out from a seam in the upholstery.

I made a face. "Maybe. But now I think that we're going to have a hard time convincing her to come with us, and I really don't want to stay here any longer than we absolutely have to."

"I don't think so," Kaelin disagreed. "From what she mentioned while I was talking to her this morning, it sounds as though she's pretty much made her mind up already. I think she still wants to talk something over with you, though."

"Good. I was worried that I might have ruined it for a minute back there."

"You did have us all a little bit nervous for a few moments," she agreed. "Though I do think that you could stand to control your temper a bit better, though."

I'd like to see you try Ark grumbled. I burst out in helpless laughter, earning another grumble from Ark and a puzzled look from Kaelin.

"Believe me," I told her when I had recovered myself somewhat, "if there was any way I thought I could, I would. Now, did you ask around about ships when you went down to the waterfront this morning?"

"Not much," she admitted, sliding a little deeper into the chair. "Most of the sailors were either asleep or hungover from last night, and all of the captains who aren't in a similar state are in foul moods because their ships aren't ready to catch the tide. We probably won't find anyone willing to barter passage out of here until tomorrow at least."

"Damn. What about that Mychael fellow? Did you hear anything about him?"

Kaelin shrugged. "Nothing. It's a big city, Ry. He could be anywhere." She gnawed on one knuckle reflectively for a moment. "Why are you so worried about him anyway? He's probably just some overzealous tough who went a little too far trying to earn a bit of money."

"Maybe," I said doubtfully. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I knew the man from somewhere.

I told you that you should have killed him

Bodies attract attention, Ark

It might have been worth it in the long run He rumbled.

"You're worried that he might have been from the temples, aren't you?"

"It's always a possibility." I responded calmly. "But he seemed to recognize me, and that's something that I always like to avoid."

"Let me get this straight: you're worried because you think that a seedy prizefighter might have recognized you?" She shook her head in amazement. "You have to be the most paranoid person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting."

I flashed her a quick grin, although there was little humor in the gesture. "Notice that I'm still alive, though. Paranoia does have its merits." Then my expression sobered. "Honestly though? The only thing carelessness will do for you is a knife in the back and a shallow grave."

"Depressing," she murmured, eyes searching my face. "So tell me, Ry. Why exactly are the temples after you anyway?"

"They know I have the spirits. I told you that already."

"Yeah, I know that's what you said. But that's not the only reason, is it?" Even slouched over in the chair as she was, her eyes were intent. I tensed slightly, recognizing the look. She didn't know the truth of the matter for sure, but she knew something was up.

"What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my tone nonchalant.

"Um… Ry?" The door swung open again and Solana peeked into the room, a couple of red-gold pleats falling free of her hood and swinging loosely against her cheek. "Can I… I mean, could I have a word with you?" She gave Kaelin, who had been regarding her somewhat sourly, a pleading look. "Please? It's rather important."

"Sure." I nodded, not letting the relief I felt show on my face. "Kaelin? Do you mind?"

Kaelin slouched to her feet and exited quietly, pulling the door shut behind her. For a few moments Solana remained standing somewhat awkwardly where she was, playing with the hem of her tunic nervously. "I, uh…" She seated herself in the chair Kaelin had just vacated hesitantly. "My dragoon spirit. What could you tell me about it?"

"Probably whatever you need to know," I admitted, scratching the back of my head. "If you want to know how to use it, though, then you'd be better off asking Zion."

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean." She reached into a deep pocket in the front of her tunic and pulled out her spirit, glowing gently in response to its master's touch. "Stop that," she admonished it absently. The glow died away, although, I thought, a bit sullenly. She held the spirit out to me for examination. "What is it, really?"

I took the proffered stone with a small smile. I had been trying to get my hands on this spirit for hundreds of years: it comforted me in some small way to imagine Ayrel throwing tantrums over its loss. "What is it?" I held it up to the light streaming through a crack in the shutters, squinting into its crystalline depths. "When you kill a dragon, there's a moment where the dragon's soul is open, vulnerable. No longer completely bound within its body, but not yet free to pass on. If in that moment one was to find a way to obtain one of the dragon's hearts, the dragon's soul would become sealed within it, creating a spirit stone. In the right hands, the powers of the dragons can be tapped, creating dragoons." I glanced from the spirit to Solana. "With me so far?"

"I think so." She frowned. "How can you cut through to a dragon's heart? I always thought that the skin was as tough as armor."

"It is quite tough," I agreed. "The easiest way is to cut into one of the eyes."

Solana blanched a little at this.

"If you want to get a little bit more technical," I continued, "Then it gets a bit more complicated. The spirits lend extraordinary powers to their masters, but the human mind isn't really equipped to deal with it naturally. In order to cope, the mind enters a state of partial insanity. Not-" I added hastily, "insanity in the mad sort of way. It's more like heightened aggression. It brings your nature more on par with that of a dragon and allows you to fight with the spirit's powers properly."

Careful Dart. You're starting to sound as if you really know what you're talking about

I ignored Ark's comment and passed the spirit back to Solana. "That's about all that I can tell you. You're a dragoon now, whether you like it or not. And as much as we all wish it were otherwise, that tends to draw trouble like pins to a magnet." I gave her an apologetic look. "I hate to say it, but even if you were to leave us and go your own way I'm afraid that sooner or later you would only find yourself back alongside Zion and Kaelin again. The fates of the spirits are intertwined in ways that not even you or I could imagine."

Solana stared at me for a moment, then looked away, making a show of fussing over her dragoon spirit as she tucked it away again. "So what you're saying," she said, her eyes downcast, "is that the more I try to run from this, the harder and more dangerous it will be?"

"I guess so."

"And that even if I do choose to go along with your friends, I still have to fight?"

"Yes."

Her shoulders sagged, but when she lifted her head again her eyes were set and resolute. "So I really don't have a choice in the matter, then. Fine. I'll come with you. But," she said, cutting me off before I could open my mouth, "I have a request to ask of you in exchange."

I nodded and leaned back, waiting.

"It's Cai. Whatever dangers I have to face… I don't want him hurt because he became tangled up in a battle that wasn't his." Her eyes met mine, and I was startled to see something familiar behind that unwavering grey-blue stare. "If I'm to do this, it will be my fight, not his. But if the temples find him, I'm afraid that they'll use him as a leash around my neck. He'll need to stay somewhere where the temples aren't well established, and there's little or nothing in the way of foreign contact." A note of plea entered her voice. "I know that I'm asking quite a bit, but I'm telling you the truth when I say that it's the only way."

I nodded and devoted a few moments to the appearance of being in deep thought, but the solution to her request had slipped into my mind almost as soon as she had asked. After about a minute of staring at the ceiling I looked back at her, a small grin pulling at the corners of my mouth. "I think that can be arranged. I assume you still have to talk matters over with your husband, but if you'd be so kind as to inform everyone to gather their things and be ready to leave shortly? We've got a fair amount of ground to cover, and the sooner we leave, the sooner we're finished with it."

You have something in mind I take it

I hope that Cai likes fishing. There isn't really much else to do in Lideria

Garren's POV:

Clouds blanketed the sky overhead, their grey bellies shifting slightly as the chilly mountain winds pushed them, guiding them hither and thither without plan or reason. Though lately the weather had been warm and almost balmy, a shift in the winds had traded off the warm, near-tropical temperatures for a dry, chilly breeze that carried the scent of desolate mountain passages and rocky windswept plateaus. I shivered, pulling the thick material of my long cloak that had been a parting gift from the mayor of Rogue closer about my body. Here, camped on the rocky edges of the Forbidden Lands, it seemed particularly chill, even more so after all of my years spent training in Rogue.

The scenery wasn't the sort to inspire good moods and happy thoughts either. Though the lands south of the Death Frontier were reputed to be lush and green near the land's heart, out here on the mountainous borders it was barren and lifeless with a perpetual wind sighing endlessly through the mountain passes to the north. Even the heartiest forms of life were scarce here; only small herds of stunted mountain goats feeding upon wiry shrubs and wisps of scrubby grass, and the forbidding black carrion birds that hung in the sky above them, waiting to feed on the carcasses of their dead. There were no predators here in the normal sense of the word: it was the land that was the killer, unforgiving and merciless.

It was hardly the place someone would want to make camp, but as chance would have it, we'd had little choice in the matter. We had been crossing the stretch of ocean that lay between the Broken Islands and Tiberoa with Tygris when a storm had blown up; one of those unpredictable tempests that frequent the ocean during the autumn season. Tygris had done his best to ride the storm out, not wanting to risk a flight through the thunderheads to the clear sky above, but after an hour or so of being buffeted about by crosswinds and unpredictable currents his right wing had collapsed, overtaxed by the long flight and the trying conditions. The only thing that had saved us from a dunk in the frigid ocean was a spontaneous blind warp on Nova's part that landed us on the nearby coastline. Since then we had moved inland, but our situation hadn't improved noticeably. We had no potions with which to heal the dragon's wing, and while Nova's skill as a magical healer is creditable, Tygris seemed to harbor an incredible resistance to wingly magic. And so we were forced to wait, camped out in a rocky enclave to escape the wind's bite, for the dragon's wing to finish healing.

I started up the hillside again, feeling the loose shale slide and shift beneath my boots. Tygris was very useful to have around, but he ate a lot. This had never been a problem when he was fit to hunt on his own, but now with him down and the sparsely populated mountains, finding food was getting to be a definite problem. And since Nova flat out refused to hunt, the task of finding food for both Tygris and us fell to me.

Reaching the top of the slope, I paused to catch my breath and look around. I stood in the center of a narrow pass, between two knife-edged ridges that stretched off to either side of me like the spine of an impossibly huge beast. More cliffs and ridges rose up all around me; from horizon to horizon it was an endless expanse of jagged brown-grey peaks, broken only here and there by the pitted depressions that passed as valleys.

I looked back over my shoulder. Our camp was impossible to see from here; in the past hour or so I'd jumped about fifteen or twenty miles inland searching for something to eat. But I could still feel the beacon I'd set before leaving, a tiny swirl of magic circling the camp, calling out to me across the miles of rough terrain to give me a fixed location of the camp in my head, should I need to teleport back in a hurry. Well, that, and to keep me from wandering off and getting lost. I was rather pleased with myself for coming up with the idea; experimenting with magic isn't really my stuff, but it was a useful little trick.

A seabird cried out stridently overhead, dipping its wings as it circled slowly around a nearby peak before angling away toward a gap in the mountains that I assumed housed another valley. I watched it glide away curiously. What was a seabird doing so far inland? There must be a lake nearby.

I watched the bird for a few minutes longer to make sure that it wasn't about to change direction, then gathered myself, preparing to make the jump. If the bird was heading to a lake, then there was a good chance that there could be some food to be found.

The world around me winked out like a snuffed candle, only to reappear a split second later, though greatly re-arranged. Slightly disoriented, I turned in a half-circle. The beacon from the camp was still there, helping somewhat, but now I was looking at the mountain peaks from a different angle. Dimly I thought that I could see the pass in which I had been standing a few moments previously, although it could have been one of any number that cut through the shadows of the peaks. Turning my eyes upward, I spotted the seabird soaring toward me on motionless wings, riding the gusting winds. Good. I'd aimed to land on the mountain shielding what I had thought to be a valley, but it made sense that it could be harboring a lake just as easily. Satisfied, I released my wings to glide up the rough incline toward the mountain's crest.

It was another of those knifing ridges, narrowing steadily until when you finally reached the top there was nothing to grasp but a few inches width of weathered rock, covered with cancerous black lichen. On the other side the rock fell away sharply, a sheer cliff dropping five hundred feet before meeting with a rocky plateau and leveling off somewhat. Dropping to the ground for the last few feet of the climb, I scrabbled with some difficulty over the rough ground to flop onto my stomach as I reached the top, breathing heavily as I rose onto my elbows to look over the rise.

The breath caught in my throat.

At first it took my brain some time to make sense of what I was seeing. The plateau was not a natural one; at one time it may have actually been the crest of the mountain itself. If it had been the crest though, it had long since sunk into the body of the mountain itself. Detritus from old rockfalls lined the perimeter of the area, and cracks and crevasses split the solid stone into a jagged grid. But I noted this all in passing, my eyes drawn to the blackened monstrosity rearing out of the very center of the crater.

It may have been a building of some sort, though if it had been, it was unlike any construction I had ever seen. It lay in ruins now, but here and there massive steel arches, skeletal and sinister in their construction, protruded from the rubble and in the center, presiding over the ruin like an dying lord was the blackened, crumbling steel carcass of an ancient tower. Magical residue hung heavy on the air, so thickly in some areas that it actually became visible as a rippling distortion swirling slowly around the tower. A vortex of raw, fettered magic, bending itself to work a machine that would no longer function.

The world around me started to spin, and with a start I realized that I had stopped breathing. Taking a deep breath, I waited for the world to steady itself before pulling myself closer to the edge. My hands were shaking slightly and my knuckles where white and aching from gripping the rock so tightly. Mayfil. After all of these years, after all it had dealt with, it was still standing, albeit in shambles.

Movement caught my eye and I leaned forward, slightly breathless as I tried to locate it again. Something was moving amid the rocks and fallen spires. No, not something. Somethings.

As I realized this it suddenly seemed to me that the entire floor of the pit was seething with movement. But why in the world…fighting down a wave of nervousness I pulled myself over the edge of the ledge and fanned out my wings again, slowing my decent as I dropped down the face of the cliff.

I leveled off about two hundred feet above the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff, keeping as close to the cliff face as I dared. I could see the floor of the plateau clearly now; I felt the hairs on the back of my neck raise as bile filled my throat.

Dead animals lay everywhere, rotting and decomposing, some hanging half in and half out of the crevasses that split the stones, the putrid stench of rotting flesh filling the air. No wonder there was hardly any game to be found in the mountains; the beasts were here. And they were not alone. Emaciated figures, vaguely humanoid even as they crawled about on all fours, scrambled among the dead. Their skin hung loosely on their frames, emphasizing their bony spines and ribcages as they moved. Lank hair hung in straggly clumps from the back of their otherwise bald heads and black, empty eyes stared blankly as they wandered, gaping mouths open and slather hanging in ribbons from between broken and discolored teeth. They wandered among the rotting dead, gorging themselves on the putrid flesh.

A name tugged at the back of my mind. Wraiths. Fiends who took the bodies of the dead as their hosts, giving them a contact with the mortal world. At least, that's what I thought. It had been a few years since I'd last picked up a book, let alone put in some constructive study. But if what I did remember was true…I frowned. Wraiths had been unheard of since the days of the dragon campaign, when the magical boundaries surrounding Mayfil had begun to weaken temporarily while the battles raged. If wraiths were able to slip through the gates into the mortal world again, then something was seriously wrong in the dead city.

I lifted my eyes again to the tower, the center of the magical vortex. White, shimmering pools were scattered around the base, a heavy mist rising off of their surfaces. Every so often the surface of one would change, shimmering white becoming a sickly, venomous green as they hissed and spat. Another creature would pull itself from the pool then, trailing green from the pool like cobwebs, and hobble into the dead field to join the other wraiths as they fed.

Confused by what I was seeing, I started to slowly make my way back up the cliff, my long cloak snapping about my ankles in the draft. Someone had to return to Ulara and tell Charle about this, and quickly. I had no idea what it might mean, but something about it was setting off alarms in my head.

The beacon, bless it, still tugged at my mind. The camp was a good distance away; in addition to this I'd have to travel in small jumps: there was no way I was going to make blind warps in the mountains. Focusing, I fixed the image of the pass I had last warped from firmly in my mind, trying to hold on to every detail. Damn, I hated teleporting.

The world flickered, and suddenly I was lying on my back in the center of the pass, having just tripped over a stone as I landed. With a few choice curses I got to my feet, rubbing my behind somewhat tenderly. Steeling myself, I prepared to do it again, this time aiming for a low rise some three miles distant. With Tygris out of commission the fastest way to return to Ulara would be by teleportation.

Throwing caution to the winds I made the jump, this time with much better results. I hope Nova's up to warping us inland.

Overhead another seabird was circling again, crying out stridently as it soared over the jagged mountain tops. The cries fell on deaf ears; the sound lost in the dying land.

Fear the wraiths. Honestly, do. I borrowed them from another story of mine and sort of spontaneously added them into this one. –shrugs- They seemed to fit well enough, after I tweaked the definitions of them a bit. I have a picture drawn of one; if I get around to it, I may post it on Deviant Art. Of course, then I'd be running the risk of my friend smacking me with heavy objects. She'd be much happier if I'd never created them in the first place.

Fight coming up next chapter! Woot!