Healer, Killer

by Amanda Swiftgold

Completely revised and UPDATED as of 2/20/14! Chapter Fifteen: The Dragoons attack Mayfil, but they find both devils and shadows of the past standing in their way.

6. Chapter Six

HEALER, KILLER
By Amanda Swiftgold

BOOK ONE: DRAGOON SPIRITS GATHER

Chapter Six

Shirley simply could not move, eyes wide and staring at the images below. So much had happened in so short a time that she couldn't quite comprehend it all. Somehow, her mind was refusing to believe that Belzac and Syuveil were here now, fighting down below - but the Dragoon Spirit she wore beneath her shirt reminded her insistently, thrumming against her chest as if in joy, having recognized the birth of two more of its kind.

She started to move her hand toward it, but stopped, feeling Arturo's glare upon her. The Wingly was staring at her, gauging her reaction to the events, and although he was trying to appear indifferent she could tell that he was upset by what Kanzas and the others had managed to do.

However, motion from below dragged Arturo's attention away from her, his teeth clenching as he watched. The stands surrounding the arena were almost exploding, a line of debris shooting up into the air. The magical view displayed on the box rail magnified it to their eyes; Shirley choked back a cry as she saw a figure tearing a path through the remaining spectators, who were fighting to get to the teleporters or for the chance to use their own magic. It was almost as if he didn't notice they were there - almost, but for the twisted grin he wore.

Those who tried to fly upward were turned on by Taranis, who was still circling near the weather shield covering the arena. Shimmering wings fluttered and then died away as the Winglies panicked and were cut down, the violet-armored Dragoon still ripping past, claws and shiny armor flashing in the light from the storm above. Sprays of blood and flesh flew behind him as he went on, heeding nothing.

With a soft buzzing noise Arturo let his own wings loose, the air tingling with the energy he released as he rose upward. Shirley flinched back, startled, as he touched his forehead and traced a sigil in the air, the symbol painted in light seeming to hang there briefly. The red and black orbs that descended around Kanzas stopped his mad flight, dark rain falling down to pelt him, the shadows filling the air around him momentarily.

When it faded away his head snapped up, and the Human immediately flew straight toward the box, his wings flapping strong gusts of air into Shirley and Arturo's faces. "Do it again, I'm used to it!" he snarled at the Wingly, his voice sounding as if it was tearing itself from his throat. "And I can cast magic now too!"

Ruby eyes widening just slightly at that, the Wingly commander immediately reached for the woman in the seat next to him, dragging her roughly toward him; she hissed as the arm of the chair bit into her side when he pulled her over it. "Then aim well!" Arturo retorted with an angry frown.

Kanzas paused, though she had been half-sure he wouldn't, and with her own scowl on her face Shirley reached slowly for her waist, fingertips sliding under the cloth around her hips and catching hold of the hilt of her dagger. Arturo realized what she was doing just in time and turned his face as her hand flew upward, the blade nicking a thin line along his temple. She wrenched her arm from his grip as he recoiled, pushing off him and stumbling back toward the banister of the box as she called upon her Dragoon Spirit.

The pillar of light descended, enfolding her in her silvery-white armor. The dagger in her hand was caught in the transformation and grew larger and more ornate, shimmering brightly in the glow. As she flipped backward over the rail, her foot knocked the metal screen from its spot; a moment later she felt the jolt as her wings stretched out to catch her.

Rising back up, she glared at the Wingly man, though she couldn't find anything to say to him. "Be careful, Kanzas," she finally remarked without looking away, raising her weapon in front of her, the blade held at right angles to her chest. "You're still a new Dragoon. Don't let it go to your head."

He gave her a glance, the corner of his mouth quirking upward. What does she know? I feel like I've done this my whole life. "Just watch this, Shirley!" He held out his arm, fist clenched, and sparks began to crackle around the spiky gauntlet, mirrored by the electric glow that was spreading across the ground underneath Arturo's hovering feet. When he raised his fist up to his face, the lightning grew around his hand as it also shot up into a pillar around the blue-silver-haired man, bolts crashing down from above. "Atomic Mind!" he yelled out.

The normally undemonstrative Wingly's cry of pain and disbelief made Kanzas grin ferally when the magic had died away. His glee, however, was cut short by the feeling of energy draining from him, the power's wildness fading from his veins. He didn't even have to see Shirley's worried look to know it was there, to realize that at any time now he would lose his armor, his wings.

As Arturo straightened, shaking away the spell's effects but not the damage it had caused, Kanzas made a quick decision. It was never good to try to fight a Wingly in the open, for they could easily fly out of reach and attack relentlessly from above with their magic, but he didn't have much of a choice.

Lunging forward with his feet in a kind of aerial slide, Kanzas kicked the commander's legs out from under him, shoving him back into the wall with the force of the charge. Though he had been flying and could not truly fall, the move knocked him senseless, allowing the Human to grab hold of his arm and launch him over the railing. Without even a pause, he leapt after him, following his opponent down into the arena.

Shirley held her breath as she saw the bright flash of the thunder armor dissipating in mid-fall, but released it explosively as Kanzas landed ungracefully yet upright next to Arturo, who had hit the sand hard and was still stunned. She knew he wouldn't want her to interfere with this coming fight; it was quite apparent that there was unfinished business between the two, no matter how irate she was about being hit and hauled around like a sack.

Trusting Kanzas - for now - to take care of the Wingly, she looked toward Belzac and Syuveil. They too seemed to have matters in hand, rebuilding their stores of spirit energy as they fought the few remaining guards who were attacking them. You did it! she thought at her friends, overjoyed to see them even from this distance.

However, something else remained to delay the reunion. Clenching both armored hands around her transformed dagger's ornamental hilt, Shirley turned slightly in the air, brown eyes focusing on the front box. Melbu Frahma didn't seem to be paying attention to her, watching the men below instead. The others accompanying him had drawn back a bit, but also remained, clearly aghast at what had happened.

Once more readjusting her grip, she bit hard on the inside of her cheek and made a decision.

---

His hand pressed against his aching head, Commander Arturo rose to his feet, his wings sprouting once more from his back, his dark blue velvet coat now dusty and ragged and his hair sticking to his face and neck. As his boots left the sand, he stared at the Human standing a few feet away, blinking at him before scowling again. "It…was a mistake," he said slowly. A damp trickle of blood hit his fingers from where the woman had slashed at him.

"Yeah?" Kanzas replied, uninterested. "What was? Being born?" He stretched his arms briefly, the stained metal of the claw blades catching the glare of the lightning above and gleaming dully as if in promise.

Ignoring the taunt, the Wingly slowly lowered his hands. "You," he answered hoarsely. "I should have known better than to let a murderer live. If I had even dreamed you could do something like this-"

Rolling his eyes, he cut in with, "Whatever. I saw you hit Shirley, so she won't even mind when I kill you too."

Arturo brushed that off as well, mind racing to come up with a plan. From here, the destruction of the stands and spectators was even more apparent. Of less concern to him were the bodies of the Human slaves also scattered around the arena at this end where that Giganto's strange magic hadn't buried them.

How had all this come from such a routine battle? The Dragon flew free, still battering itself uselessly against the weather shield, the woman still hovered above in that unfathomable armor, and though he didn't dare to look, he knew his lord was still watching the events unfold from his box high above - watching him.

And it had been such a good day.

The commander's jaw clenched in anger, his fingers twitching toward the pattern of a spell even as the Human drew into an attack stance, ready to charge. Suddenly, he heard the metallic swish of a sword being swiped though the air as a soldier flew up next to him. He was young and in civilian clothes, his eyes wide at the sight of all the damage and the Dragon writhing above, but he began bravely, "Sir, let me help you! They can't be real Humans-"

"No," he said quickly, holding out his arm to bar his way. "No. They are just Humans getting above themselves. I will take care of this one. I must see this through to its end." And perhaps defeating Kanzas would help excuse to Frahma the fact that he'd let the man escape death once before. "You go help the wounded."

The soldier looked unsure even as he automatically moved to obey, glancing around the arena. "Sir, but the other Humans, they've killed the foreman and almost all the guards, and that was after they took off that flying armor!"

"Oh, just come on!" Kanzas yelled at them suddenly. "Don't float around talking about it! I don't have time for you! Hurry up!"

Arturo was starting to lose his cool, and it wasn't a feeling he enjoyed much. Gesturing dismissively at his subordinate, he snarled, "Go! This came from my error, so it is my fate now to execute him!" The soldier jerked in surprise and quickly flew off toward the torn-up seats, and he now focused on his opponent, eyes thinning to slits. The commander raised his hand, tracing a sigil in the air. "Enough of this!"

It's about time, the russet-haired man thought derisively, not waiting another moment. However, a thought struck him, and instead of attacking he crossed his wrists before him in a guard position. The arm-blocking spell flowed around him, unable to catch hold, and with great satisfaction he knew that he'd anticipated the Wingly's first move correctly. "Can't get me twice with that," Kanzas informed him, looking up darkly. "Fight me for real, coward!"

Opening his mouth to reply, Arturo shut it with a snap as the man jumped forward, slashing for his neck. There was a ripping noise as the blade points tore through the fabric of his coat at his shoulder, but he was in the air a moment later, avoiding most of the strike. "No, I will see you die here," he murmured softly. "As I promised!"

Kanzas cursed to himself, every muscle tensed, his body ready to jerk this way or that to avoid the magic aimed at him. Though he'd tried to keep him from taking to the air again, this was nigh-impossible. Arturo had not brought a weapon with him to the arena and was instead relying on his magic from a distance, thus attacking while avoiding the blades of the claws completely. Kanzas had hoped his challenge would get him to fight closer, but despite the Wingly's anger, it hadn't worked.

Unable to score a hit and thus unable to transform again, he too was growing angrier. This constant barrage of magic was really grating on his nerves. Although he had indeed gotten used to being hurt with spells over the years, the pain it invoked was more than just physical, and he was starting to wear down despite his fury.

Arturo, on the other hand, was naturally accustomed to flying; he was able to dodge each blow, even if by just inches, and he grew smug as he realized his advantage. "Fool!" he taunted, twisting down from above into a dive, driving his feet into Kanzas' back and kicking him forward.

He hit the ground hard on his side, dust spraying upward as he slid a short way before somersaulting back upward, the skin of his arm scraped and sticky with bloodied sand. If he'd just stay near the ground! he thought, enraged. I'd tear his damned face off!

"What of that miraculous armor?" the Wingly inquired, brushing silvery-blue bangs from his face with the back of his hand. "Can't use it anymore? I think, Human, that your luck has run out. You just weren't meant to exist."

"Because I fight?" He could feel his shoulders shaking, but from anger or hilarity he wasn't certain. Winglies were always pointing out that Soa created Humans to be peaceful workers of the land, that they needed guidance and protection - that they and other species were preordained to be slaves. Finally, he straightened, glaring at the man flying above him, just out of reach. And, higher above, echoed by the thunderstorm beyond the weather shield- "Guess what? I'm not a Human, I'm a Dragon!"

Arturo chuckled humorlessly, a ball of darkness forming in his open palm. Turning slightly, he threw it at the man below, watching him stagger backward when it hit, teeth clenched. "Perhaps," he said in a cool tone, his confidence clear in his posture. "They are stupid beasts, just like you. Dragon, Human, you will find yourself in Mayfil all the same-"

Kanzas threw back his head, his sudden scream cutting off the commander's words, his mental call intensifying the cry. "Taranis!"

Taken aback, the Wingly raised his arms automatically in defense, wondering what he'd meant by that. And then there was a crackling noise, his hair rose up to halo his head, and Arturo felt a presence looming behind and above him. He spun in the air to face a reptilian gaze, eyes like bits of turquoise narrowing before the violet Dragon's mouth opened wide, nearly splitting its small head in half as a thick beam of electricity burst from the darkness of its throat.

The bundle of lightning bolts crashed into him; he could feel his heart's beat lurch and waver at the shock as he was driven hard into the ground, knocking all the breath out of his lungs. The pupils of his ruby eyes contracted nearly to nothing as he pushed himself upward, panting for air but knowing that, no matter what, he had to get up again. The Human couldn't have called the Dragon - couldn't have…

Kanzas was running as Arturo's wings appeared again, as the commander began to rise into the air once more. Snarling, he flung himself forward and upward, driving the claw deep into his opponent's shoulder and dragging it with him as he pivoted, his hand sliding around the weapon's grip.

He lost hold of the claw as he went over the Wingly's back, the blades having wedged into bone, and Arturo cried out in pain as he hit the ground, his legs crumpling beneath him as the Human twisted, also trying to land upright and failing. Scrambling into a crouch, Kanzas forced his tired muscles to move, charging at the slumped figure and knocking him face-first into the arena sand.

"You believe in destiny, soldier?" he gritted out, bracing his knee on the Wingly's back and roughly yanking his claw from the shoulderblade. Arturo's yell was disappointingly muffled, his body jerking involuntarily, blood welling up to stain the rich fabric of his jacket. "I guess now you've got to believe you were born just so I could kill you."

Just for spite, Kanzas drove the blades into him again, tearing them upward and back out with a fine spray of fluid. He could feel warmth against his wrist as his spirit orb absorbed the man's energy, and a different warmth spattering against his arms and chest as a cut artery spurted blood with every heartbeat.

"I - will not-" Arturo spat as loudly as he could, the words interrupted by a wracking cough.

"And there's this, too: you aren't important," the Dragoon informed him almost cheerily, leaning more weight onto his back. "You're just one more body. And because you let me live, all the other Winglies will die too." He sucked some blood and sand from one of the scrapes on his arm and spat it to the side, wiping more of it across his cheek as he swiped sweat away. "I think I might like this fate thing after all."

His hand caught under his chest, Arturo's fingers moved slightly. It was funny, now that he realized it, how he was suddenly thinking of his family when he hadn't given them much thought before. His wife, his daughter - what was her name? Yes, Meruline…would he see them soon? Or would he first see-

Darkness descended, pitch-blackness surrounding them, and Kanzas lurched backward off the Wingly's body, staring upward at the sudden brightness of the unsetting moon fixed in the sky. It was as if the world had suddenly fallen away, leaving nothingness. No, he realized with a sinking feeling, there's something here…

And then the swipes began, claw-strikes from the darkness coming from all sides, knocking him back and forth; he couldn't see where they were coming from, his head spinning from the pain. Finally, he fell to his knees in exhaustion, but before the darkness faded there was brightness from above, a flash of light arcing across the sky and piercing the spell's effects.

Kanzas toppled backwards, hitting the sand hard on his back, amber eyes wide as he stared upward, unable to move as he watched Shirley streaking across the arena toward the front box, dagger glittering in her hand…

---

The wind rushed by, battering her ears with noise as she flew, her entire body tensed, poised for a strike. Her mind was several seconds behind her, still not prepared to accept what she was doing. Faster, faster, the blade braced outward as she shot toward Melbu Frahma, so concerned with the fights down below that he didn't even look up-

Shirley felt it as her long dagger pierced soft, unresisting flesh, letting out a cry of agitation that quickly turned into one of horror as her thoughts caught up with her, as she saw that she had driven her blade deeply into the chest of the Human slave girl accompanying the Wingly leader. She took the blow! She stepped forward - she - why did she-? the woman thought, terrified. She let go of the dagger as if it burned her, leaving it embedded within her heart, holding up her hands as the dark-haired child's lips trembled, eyes huge and uncomprehending.

The chain attached to her collar tightened as she keeled forward, and the charcoal-skinned Wingly looked upward slowly, letting go of his slave's leash. Those icy eyes met Shirley's, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. "You have failed, Dragoon of Vellweb," Frahma said, his deep voice seeming to surround her. He raised his hand.

Suddenly, everything seemed to be moving backward at tremendous speed. The Wingly leader's magic rammed into her as if she'd just hit a wall, and a moment later she did hit the wall, smacking hard against the opposite row of boxes on the other side of the arena.

There was an explosion of grayish brick, debris scattering outward, and a brief flash of white light as she fell to the floor of the balcony, drifting in and out of consciousness. Another wave of power flew from Frahma's box, destroying the one she'd landed in, and amidst the chunks of stone Shirley's limp form fell toward the ground, red hair flaring upward around her pale face.

"No!" Belzac bellowed; he was moving instantly over the corpses of guards and flying into the air almost before his armor could form around him once more. He hadn't understood why she had just been hovering up there while he, Syuveil and Kanzas fought below, and he still couldn't believe what she had just tried to do.

The half-Giganto was not made for speed, but he raced forward desperately, his free armored hand shooting out to grab Shirley's wrist mere moments before she impacted against the stands below. He heard a popping noise from her shoulder as the jolt dislocated it, and his face twisted in agony as he flew higher, pulling her up into his arms. Damn it! I'm so sorry! he apologized silently, descending into the stands and drawing back behind some rubble where benches had been torn up, hoping to avoid Frahma's notice as he looked around to judge the situation.

Syuveil hadn't reacted quite as quickly, but he too had gone back into his Dragoon form and was now over near Kanzas, speaking to him urgently. Belzac had thought Kanzas had lost against that Wingly he was fighting after the darkness spell had engulfed him, but apparently not; he watched, blinking, as the russet-haired man slowly got up again and communicated with his vassal Dragon, which changed directions in mid-flight and reared back as if to attack.

He wished he knew what Syuveil's plan was. If the violet Dragon hadn't been able to get past the weather shield before - and that certainly wasn't for lack of trying - how in the world did he think they were going to escape now?

However, the energy Taranis shot now was aimed in a tight beam at the wall of the arena itself, near the top where it curved inward. This time, the electrical blast had the desired effect, spraying chunks of stone and disturbing the seal. Slowly, the crackling veins of magical energy died away, the shield above flickering and dying. Immediately, rain poured down into the arena, hard and driving, and the lightning above flashed with instant booms of thunder as the Dragon joyfully streaked upward into the storm its own rage had summoned.

Count on Syuveil to know the answer! Grinning, the large Dragoon stood, shifting Shirley higher in his arms, his wings flaring as he prepared to follow the beast. Water droplets pattered hard against his armor, sending a fine spray rebounding into his eyes.

However, the prickle of energy in the air wiped the smile from his face, and he quickly folded his wings forward to shield the woman, turning his body as Frahma shot another wave of magic effortlessly, whipping it through the air toward them; with his other hand, the Wingly leader aimed the same at the other two. The rain did not touch him, fizzling into steam before it could hit his odd gray-colored skin.

A feeling of paralysis ran up and down the Dragoon's spine, and Belzac had to fight to keep from dropping his unconscious friend, to stay up on his feet. He had never been able to tolerate magic very well, but he thought of Shirley and flung himself into the air, racing to join the others, both of whom were also aiming toward the sky.

More bolts of energy flew past them as they went; though he'd managed to transform once more, Kanzas was barely able to hold up his head, and he didn't protest as Syuveil dragged him along by the arm. The scholar's own face was drawn with pain, the water on his glasses obscuring his vision, yet they went on, moving directly into the storm and through it, fleeing Kadessa with as much energy as they could muster.

/Come on,/ Kanzas thought wearily to Taranis, who was visible only as a shimmer of scales amidst the lightning strikes. He smiled slightly at the feeling of exultation the Dragon projected back toward him, glancing down only once toward the arena as they passed through the dark clouds, quickly leaving the city behind. Somehow, he had the feeling they were being allowed to escape.

That had been much too easy.

---

"Okay. There, okay. It's okay now."

"Are you sure? I can't believe I-"

"Really. It's fine now."

Exhaling gently, Shirley turned her head, her eyes staying closed as she continued to listen. She certainly didn't feel fine; there was an ache in her shoulder that protested movement of any kind, while half her body felt warm and the other half chilled. Still, she knew those voices and, familiar as they were, they made her lips curve gently into a smile before she finally looked up.

The sky above was gray and thick with clouds, framed by the bright golden yellow of tree leaves. She was lying on the ground next to a fire, and occasionally the leaves would drift downward on the gentle breeze to land in the blaze, becoming small pungent wisps of smoke. The appetizing smell of cooking meat filled the air. It was so calm and peaceful, and such a change from what had come before, that she wanted to lie there for a moment just breathing.

And then she remembered.

'You have failed, Dragoon of Vellweb.'

Interposing itself in front of the swaying leaves, the face of a child swam into her vision, dark eyes huge and pleading, lips trembling, and the hilt of the dagger in Shirley's hand-

'Dragoon of Vellweb-'

"No!" the woman screamed out, sitting up abruptly. Why did I do that? Why did I do that? They're going to kill everyone!

Momentarily, however, someone else appeared, chasing the memory from view. "Shirley?" Belzac began worriedly, fine brows knit together to crease his broad face. A saffron bandana covered his hair, its long ends tied at the nape of his neck, and for a moment she could only blink at him in bewilderment, as if she couldn't even recognize him. "Are you all right?"

Unthinkingly, she scrubbed her hands on her skirt, not paying attention to the pain from her shoulder or the three sets of eyes suddenly staring at her. She turned from Belzac to Syuveil and Kanzas, who were sitting on the other side of the fire, barely seeming to acknowledge them. "Why are we here? We have to get home!"

"Hey," the half-Giganto tried to soothe, reaching out as if to help her stand. She was acting strangely, and it scared him a little; only a few times before had she ever been so frantic. This wasn't quite the reunion he'd been looking forward to this past week and a half.

Shaking her head, she looked at him again pleadingly before letting out a shriek at a rustle from the trees. Her vassal Dragon was stretching her neck between trunks, lowering her head to look at her Dragoon with what could only be interpreted as worry.

Belzac ducked down, asking carefully, "What's wrong?"

Dragging in a deep breath, Shirley curled forward over her legs, her hands shaking helplessly and her left arm throbbing pain with each heartbeat. She didn't want to have to face his concern, or even Eremi's, feeling guilt rise up like waves from the pit of her stomach. "Frahma knows!" she cried out from between her crossed arms. "I shouldn't have - it's my fault! He knows we're Dragoons, we're from Vellweb and he's going to kill everyone!"

Silence descended, as Belzac was unable to find any way to reply to this despite the way his heart was aching for her pain. No one else seemed able to react either, though Kanzas' silence wasn't much of a surprise, as he hadn't spoken since they'd left Kadessa hours earlier. Now he was just sitting there, eating the undercooked meat of a forest runner with the quick efficiency of someone who regarded meals as an annoying requirement for staying alive.

Huh, Belzac thought balefully, adjusting his balance as he remained crouched, so much for him taking care of her.

"Just a moment," Syuveil declared, speaking up and startling Shirley into raising her head. "Did you tell Frahma you were a Dragoon? That you came from Vellweb?"

"No," she answered miserably, still avoiding her friends' gazes. "He just…said it to me."

Nodding, he leaned forward where he sat, resting his elbows on his knees, brown bangs trailing into his eyes. "It can't be your fault, then," he explained logically. "He knew beforehand. Someone informed him - Fara, most likely. We were all careful around her, but she still could have found out one way or another. There's really nothing you could have done."

"We'll be going back to Vellweb soon," Belzac added, giving the Jade Dragoon a look of gratitude, "and with the Dragons we'll get there faster than any kind of army could. They may have their moveable teleporters, but they still have to bring them to where they have to go first."

She sighed, but nodded slowly, accepting the explanation. Syuveil's calmness was infectious, making her breathe a bit easier. Eremi nudged her insistently with her snout, and she reached up to pat the Dragon's pearly scales absently. "But," she protested softly anyway, "what we did today in the arena probably started the war. Because I…I…"

"You tried to assassinate Melbu Frahma," Kanzas put in. He'd nearly lost his voice, but it rang out clearly enough; Shirley winced at hearing it said aloud. He tossed wing bones into the fire, wiping his hands on battered leather pant legs. "Let's not dance around the issue. And before you start yelling at me," he went on, giving Belzac a cool look as he opened his mouth, "even if she hadn't, me rescuing Taranis would have been more than enough of an excuse to start a war."

"So you're going to take responsibility for this?" he retorted skeptically, rising to his feet and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

He flashed a thin, unpleasant smile in return. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Kanzas rasped, coughing to try to clear his sore throat. "After all, Diaz can hardly be responsible for what I do. Let me take the blame to save your Gloriano-"

Shirley waved her hand emphatically, rising up on her knees. "I won't allow it!" All three of them gave her startled glances, and she lifted her chin defiantly. "No one made me - do what I did. And Kanzas didn't force me to go with him," she explained, looking particularly at Belzac and seeing a hardness forming in his pale eyes. "In fact, he tried to go without me. So let's not pass around blame," she sighed, "and just figure out what to do next."

"Wise words, Shirley," Syuveil told her, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose.

Kanzas shrugged, leaning back against one protruding root of the ancient tree he sat beneath. He had no energy whatsoever now, not even for arguing. "Whatever you say," he muttered dismissively.

"Agreed," Belzac said gruffly, bending to give Shirley a hand up as she struggled to stand.

Wincing as she rocked on her feet, she bit back a cry of pain and asked, "What happened to my arm?"

"It happened after you fell," he answered slowly, his tanned skin flushing suddenly. "Your shoulder dislocated. Syuveil set it back, but you still ought to heal yourself, else…"

Shirley nodded, her eyes catching on the trees around them, large enough that Eremi could sit upright and still be shaded by their bright autumn leaves. Her Dragon must have joined them as they'd passed, since this didn't look much like the farmland she'd left her in. "Where are we, anyway? It's nowhere near Kadessa - or Gloriano, for that matter."

"Once we caught up with our vassal Dragons," Syuveil clarified, "we were able to fly quite a distance and avoid pursuit. We're somewhere in the far Eastlands now."

"All the way there?" she blurted, taken aback. Now that she had the presence of mind to notice, she could see that everyone looked as if they'd been drenched earlier, her own hair also falling stringily around her face where it had dried. They must have passed through the rain, and she'd never even noticed; she'd lost Charle's seal at some point, too, it seemed.

"You were out for a long time," Belzac told her sheepishly, sure it was in some part thanks to him. But it's better than dying. "Shock, I think."

Maybe she was still in shock. She'd killed a child - it was too horrible to tell him, too painful to affirm aloud. She hadn't meant to do it, not at all, but…

"You really should tend to yourself, Shirley," he repeated when she didn't answer, gesturing to the dark purple bruises visible beneath her now rather ragged shirt sleeve. "We're out of healing potions, and you look pale. None of our Dragoon Spirits will heal, either. We tried that."

Instead of answering, she turned to hug him tightly with her good arm, pressing her face against his chest and feeling him tense in surprise before his arms went around her. "I should have gone with you," she told him, muffled by his vest and the bronze-plated armor beneath it. It was warm here with him, holding off the chill she could feel standing away from the fire. "I knew you were a Dragoon, Belzac, I knew it."

"Well," he laughed softly, forcing himself not to even glance over at Kanzas, whose glaring eyes felt like they were boring into his back, "you were never wrong before. And Syuveil was there, so it's all right." I had to see if I could do without you, though I don't think I like what the answer was.

He had sworn to serve Lord Diaz, to serve him no matter if he was a Dragoon or not. Now, though, he didn't have to worry about being left behind, of having to battle on the ground while Shirley fought above. Now he didn't have to let her go again.

"Even so," she protested weakly. "But, tell me about your challenge," the red-haired woman requested, standing back enough to look up into his eyes.

"It wasn't so hard," Belzac told her, searching for the words. He wasn't quite sure how to describe the wind-blasted desert, the way the dust stung his skin, or the deep caverns hidden beneath the baked sand, cooled by underground rivers. But the Death Frontier had touched him in some way, whether he could voice it or not. "Even its Dragon magic didn't hurt too badly, since it was earth and all. It might've been different for Syuveil, though…"

As they turned to him, the scholar shrugged and smiled, commenting, "It was an even trade. I could hurt it as much as it could me."

"More, I'd think." Belzac grinned back before looking down toward Shirley again. "I even got used to Dragons on the way back to Vellweb, having Gleam along. It was amazing; by the time we got to you, he was full-grown, but Syuveil says that's natural when they're reborn like that."

"Your vassal Dragon?" she asked, automatically searching the surrounding forest for a sign of it. "Where-?"

The half-Giganto reached to scratch at the back of his head, absently adjusting the ties of his bandana. "Mm," he began, "well, when we made camp, they weren't all getting along too well, so I told him to just go off into the woods for a bit."

He'd gotten used to Gleam's presence, all right, but not his new ability to talk to the young Golden Dragon. Though he'd tried requesting it like Shirley said she did with Eremi, Gleam was quite stubborn and would only listen once he'd mentally 'shouted'. It was the fault of that Dragon of Kanzas', of course - even Syuveil's Tsavor, who was normally quite patient for a Dragon, had joined in the brief confrontation.

Shirley didn't answer that at first, knowing that the vassal Dragons tended to take cues from their Dragoons when they weren't sure how to react. That was the problem with Dragons: they were horribly powerful, but they felt more than thought, and the smaller species especially verged on outright stupidity. The combining of Human intellect with the big lizards' raw strength would give them an edge in their struggle, but its side-effects could cause a lot of trouble. "I'm sure they'll learn to get along," she said pointedly, "if we give them a good example."

"Right," Belzac answered reluctantly, chewing a little on his lip. "I'll try." He gave the word a particular emphasis, more of his meaning left unspoken than not.

Though Kanzas had been sitting back against the tree with half-lidded eyes, as if falling asleep, he was still listening, and had been expecting a comment like that from Shirley eventually. Taranis was nearby, staying close to him as he rested, half-protective and half for protection.

He'd found out the fast growth was natural, but what the Winglies had done while holding the spiky violet Dragon captive surely wasn't. They'd tormented him constantly, apparently trying to build his rage and aggression past the point of no return so that he'd attack without stopping when released into the arena. Perhaps it would have worked, and permanently, if he hadn't had the mental connection with his Dragoon, but Taranis was obviously still feeling the effects of what they'd done. I'd be surprised if I could get him to tolerate even Shirley right now, he thought, making an aggravated noise in his throat but not bothering to work up the energy to protest. What point would there be in trying to explain it, anyway? It wasn't as if they would really care beyond how it was affecting them.

Feeling her shiver, Belzac drew Shirley closer to the fire. He noticed that Syuveil was consciously ignoring them, as if to give them some sliver of privacy, busying himself with turning the small spits of skewered forest runner meat. He appreciated it, even if it was embarrassing to know that someone else recognized his feelings. "Besides Kadessa, Shirley," the large man began curiously, happy to simply be with his friend again like this, "how did your journey go?"

She froze, the question forcing to her actually think about the past ten days. Little flashes of images popped up in her head, reminding her insistently of tallies on musty paper, a tiny doll and the smell of blood, dangling corpses spraying skin and lips pressed against her own.

Jerking her gaze away from Belzac's familiar expression, she glanced half over her shoulder and then stopped when she knew what she'd see there. No, these things could not be forgotten; Kanzas wouldn't let her forget. There was enough pain right now that she wanted to, despite that.

"It went all right," Shirley answered, looking back up and giving him a smile that felt as unnatural as it looked.

"You were never a good liar," he murmured in return. "What's the matter?"

Shaking her head and smacking her cheeks with her stringy hair, she reached up to her sore shoulder, feeling the pain spike as her fingers put pressure on it. "Nothing," she protested, "just not feeling too well yet." Quickly changing the subject, she demanded gently, "Belzac - you two had time to take Shynn to the Blue Sea Dragon, didn't you?"

It was his turn to look uneasy now. Syuveil raised his head sharply upon hearing her words, and they exchanged wary glances before the Jade Dragoon nodded once. "Yes," the half-Giganto drew out slowly, "we did, in fact."

"So," she pressed, "why didn't he come with you?" Her heart suddenly lurched, and she reached to twist Belzac's brown and burgundy vest in one hand. "Tell me he didn't lose-"

Syuveil shook his head this time, shifting in his seat on a fallen log with repressed agitation. "No," he told her, "he didn't lose. Not as such."

Clearing his throat, Belzac added, "At first, everything was fine. We were on a small island, and the Blue Sea Dragon answered the challenge, came up from the sea. I assisted Shynn in the fight. But, partway through…"

"It said that it didn't accept Shynn as a Dragoon," the other man finished, pressing his fist against his lips as the fire crackled to fill the silence.

Shirley nodded slowly and let go of Belzac's vest, knowing that this statement had meant death for three candidates before. When a Dragon didn't accept the Human fighting it, didn't want to become that person's sacrifice, it truly began fighting for its life.

We'll have to find another for water somehow, and quickly, she thought, though she didn't say it; it wasn't something Syuveil probably needed to hear at this point. It wasn't that she didn't like Shynn, but he was so cold and withdrawn that it had been hard to get to know him at all. "But at least he escaped all right, didn't he? Shynn must have been so disappointed."

"Oh, he was. But, the thing is," Belzac explained, "well, he did defeat the Dragon, killed it. I - extracted the spirit from it, though the Dragon didn't, well, give it to us like mine had." He tried not to wince at the memory of the gaping golden eyeball, the chilliness of disapproval pouring from the dying sea Dragon like waves as he shoved his hand into its head. "It doesn't glow. It doesn't do anything."

"We just have to find its right bearer," she said finally, frowning at the morose expression on Syuveil's face. To give him hope, she appended, "Or perhaps the spirit will grow to accept him. The Grand Blue Sea Dragon was the most reluctant to agree to this course of action, anyway."

"Yes," Syuveil agreed with false brightness, "sea Dragons have always had fewer difficulties with Winglies because they're harder to find."

"Shynn still has the spirit," Belzac said thoughtfully. "I really don't know if he'd…let us have it, just yet. In any event, he's in Vellweb, so maybe you can speak to him when we get there, Shirley. We left again quickly after returning, once we heard about you being in Kadessa." They'd returned from the fight with the Blue Sea Dragon only to discover that Shirley and Kanzas still hadn't returned, and he'd spent five more days not knowing if she was alive or dead. Finding out that she was in the Wingly capital, despite what it meant, was a relief after that long uncertainty.

Smiling weakly at that, she nodded her understanding and asked, "How did you find out, anyway?"

Leaning forward to pull the small spits of meat from the fire, Syuveil rolled his green eyes and replied, "Thanks to Fara. She was taunting us about it, 'criminals get what they deserve' or some rot. Lord Diaz allowed us to leave right away and assist you."

"So, he does know about it," she whispered to herself. "He was willing to take the blame all along for…what we started there."

"It's Lord Diaz." Belzac shrugged, raising his eyebrows. "Why does it surprise you? He'd never leave his Dragoon to the Winglies." He put his hand on her shoulder, instantly jerking it away at her hiss of pain. "Shirley!" he gasped, shocked. "Come on, we've talked too much. Heal yourself, please."

The woman sighed slowly, not sure why she was so reluctant to take up her spirit orb again. Its weight usually felt so comforting around her neck, but now it seemed that its light might burn her. "Is - is everyone else all right?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yes, we're fine, but you should see to Kanzas," Syuveil said in a quiet voice, waving a hand back over his shoulder at where the man was sitting. "He has wounds, and we ran out of healing potions in the arena, as Belzac said."

Taking a breath and nodding again, she moved past him, aiming toward the figure propped against the enormous tree, sitting between thick winding roots as if he was a piece of the scenery itself. Though she'd thought he was asleep, his eyes flashed open the moment she got near; at the same time, Taranis let out a growl from deep in his throat. Shirley stopped where she was, looking up warily at the silhouette of the Dragon just beyond the trunk. "What is he afraid of?" she asked almost casually. "He is a Dragon, after all."

/Leave her alone now,/ Kanzas thought to the large reptile, getting his reluctant agreement in return. /She won't do anything to you./ "Winglies," he said flatly in answer, coughing a little. "You don't have to worry about him."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." Feeling a bit sheepish at her lack of tact, she settled herself down onto one upraised root, toying with the short chain holding her Dragoon Spirit. Another large question mark was arising in her mind: just how was he going to act toward her now? "I thought you were sleeping. You were quiet."

He struggled upright slowly, like an old man who'd drifted off in a chair by the window. The rain had made his russet hair look as scruffy as it had hers, the normally messy strands sticking out in every direction even more. "I don't like to sleep with people around."

If that's true, I wonder how he managed when he was pretending to be a slave. Folding her hands around the white-silver orb, she closed her eyes but didn't try concentrating yet to call forth the healing magic. "You slept when I was there," she pointed out. "In - your home."

Kanzas cleared his throat, letting the silence say for him that she wasn't 'people'. "I don't expect you to kill me," he finally got out raspily, "now that we've gotten to know each other."

Ignoring that comment, Shirley shook her head at him, but her knuckles were still oddly white, clenched around the small marble, pain shooting down from her shoulder to her elbow. "Since you weren't sleeping, then, you must have heard what we were talking about."

How could she dare to heal now? What if the spirit of the Dragon denied her?

Despite her doubts, the pure white light burst forth anyway as she called upon it, the glow spinning gently from between her fingers. She relaxed a little, feeling the tension melting away, the pulled muscles of her shoulder weaving back together.

Quite nice, Kanzas decided, how she could fix everything with just a minute's worth of blinding light - it had even destroyed the arena dust that felt like it had settled in his lungs, clearing up his voice. It almost made it harder to bear the pain the first place, knowing how easily it could be erased.

He didn't answer her until she'd opened her eyes again and the light faded, his gaze fixed intensely on her face. "Yeah, I heard." Just as the other two were hearing every word they spoke now. "It sounds like you've been cleared of blame."

Flinching, Shirley let go of the spirit and rubbed at her temples with her fingertips, raising her knees higher so she could lean her elbows on them. The Southlands clothes she'd been wearing in Kadessa were a bit too thin for this climate, not to mention Gloriano's long winters, and she felt as if the air was moving straight through her skin. "I don't know why I thought we could just go in and out of the capital like it was some marketplace," she mumbled dully. "I deserve that blame."

"There's enough guilt in this world to go around," Kanzas said softly, leaning forward and getting to his feet in one smooth motion. He laced his fingers together in front of him, turning them outward to stretch his arms and hands. "Don't be too greedy for more than your share."

Her tongue tasted ashen in her mouth, and she glanced over toward the fire briefly to see Belzac and Syuveil eating their food, though the half-Giganto kept sneaking wary looks in her direction. Shirley understood that there was death in war, and she had indeed killed Winglies before. However, there was a certain approval to that, bound up with the knowledge that if she didn't kill them, they would certainly kill her.

What she'd done had been murder. It had nothing to do with war.

She wondered what Kanzas would say if she told him. Would he understand how horrible she felt, or would he say something like 'kill enough and you won't even feel a thing'? She was actually afraid to find out what it would be. She didn't want to be reminded of those pleading little-girl eyes, but she didn't want to forget them either. Maybe she could just be numb, without feeling.

And then Shirley remembered the little doll he'd had, the one with the woman's name she couldn't recall. She'd taken a look at it while waiting in Charle's house, had felt its rough burlap cloth and seen the stains ground into the fabric. Inside the stuffing of the doll's head was a small lump of something hard; she imagined it was bone, though she hadn't dared to unwrap it to see.

No, there was always feeling. Always always feeling, and remembering, even through the numbness. Even for someone like him.

"Our things are still at Charle's, by the way," she mumbled while the thought was so heavy in her mind. "I'm sorry I couldn't bring them. But it's all safe, and someone there can have it sent to Vellweb when everything dies down." She paused, hoping he would understand what she meant. "She's safe."

He turned in place, giving her a long, inscrutable look. "Yes," he whispered, kneeling down to say it close to her ear, his arm curving around her shoulders. "Long ago, I saved her. The Divine Tree holds her now, in its arms…and you don't need to worry about her, either."

Shirley felt his breath on her cheek and turned her head to avoid the brush of his lips, raising her hands to his shoulders and trying to mask the shivers his words had caused. "Please, Kanzas," she murmured nervously, knowing they were being watched by a particular set of eyes, "I…don't want to hurt Belzac." She felt sorry for Syuveil, too, stuck in the middle of this mess between the three of them.

"Then you know how he feels about you. And if you're so concerned about his feelings," the bearded man responded, pulling away, "then why haven't you answered them?"

Hearing it said aloud like that almost made her want to cry. Nearly two weeks ago she still could have gotten icy, responded that it was none of his business - but now he'd made it his business, hadn't he? Nothing, anymore, could remain the same. "Because," she drew in a deep breath to steady her voice, "I…I don't know how to answer. He's like my brother-"

Kanzas ducked his head suddenly, covering his mouth with an armored forearm to try to stop his laughter. The irony of that was too much to take, though he knew she'd ask questions now. As he turned away, he met Belzac's glare and straightened, leaving a smile playing on his face. Naturally, the large man had been listening, watching - and he hoped he'd seen plenty.

Why is he laughing? A deep, perplexed and almost angry frown line forming between her brows, Shirley opened her mouth to demand just that; however, the words never had a chance to come.

A loud, percussive bang sounded in the sky above before a bright blue-violet glow filled the space, trees not even a mile away from them fizzling to ash. The roars of the vassal Dragons filled the air, unmistakably fierce and challenging.

The ground shook, tossing the four Dragoons off-balance. Rolling to avoid hitting the campfire before him, Belzac pulled himself up to his knees. "What was that?" he shouted, his voice a bit strained from repressed rage. Whatever was happening, however, was quickly taking his mind to other matters. Gleam's deep howl rose above the others, but why his Dragon was so mad he couldn't say.

"No!" Syuveil cried out, staggering to his feet, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Tsavor, do not go!"

"Oh, Soa…" Shirley gasped, clutching onto the protruding tree root she'd just been perched upon a moment ago. "This is-!"

There was the sound of something streaking past at high speeds, a hail of glowing golden balls taking the tops off trees directly above their heads. Kanzas ducked out of the way as a limb covered in golden leaves came crashing down, barely missing the ring of stones surrounding the fire, and nearly lost his balance again as the earth rumbled once more. "The Winglies found us?" he asked loudly, eyes wide in disbelief. That was no normal spell, whatever it was!

Shirley shook her head hard before getting up. "No, that was the Divine Dragon!"

"The hell?" He looked to the sky again, and a moment later was rewarded by a darkness briefly blocking out the gray clouds above, several huge sets of wings flapping to launch the Dragon higher into the air. In his mind, he could sense Taranis projecting defiance toward the creature, focusing on it as if to attack. "What poor fool has to fight that thing?"

"No one!" she spat out, looking appalled at the thought. "The Divine Dragon would not agree to be any mortal's sacrifice! It's too full of pride, and hatred; even the Winglies - even Melbu Frahma couldn't stand against him!"

His tanned skin an odd shade of pale now, Belzac asked, "Why here? Its lair is hundreds and hundreds of miles northwest of here!" Though he was not as familiar with Dragon lore as Shirley or Syuveil, he definitely knew about the Divine Dragon.

"I don't think it likes the thought of four other Dragons together here, so it's trying to scatter or kill them," the scholar announced, his shoulders tensed beneath his gray tunic as he tried to keep a mental hold on Tsavor. A bit farther away in the forest, trees toppled with groaning noises, crashing loudly. "Eight, if it can feel us!"

"What's going to stop it from scattering us in Gloriano?" Belzac asked, finally getting up again.

"We'll think of that later," Shirley decided, seeing Eremi just a short distance off in the trees, head lifting toward the sky. If even her Dragon was preparing to fight… "We need to get out of here before our vassal Dragons go after it!"

Syuveil nodded, quickly moving to help Belzac as the other man started kicking dirt onto the fire to put it out. He gathered up their packs, shrugging his own onto his back. "Split up," he suggested, "and head toward Vellweb. We can meet up after we're far enough away."

"Be careful, everyone," Shirley told them, seeing Kanzas already turning toward Taranis, the spiky Dragon's body drawn back as if to pounce. /Please, don't go after it,/ she asked her own Dragon, hoping her words would get through. Running toward Eremi, she tried to calm the agitated creature, finally succeeding enough to climb onto her back.

Almost before she was fastened under the ropes, they jerked upward through the trees, the young silvery-white Dragon giving a high-pitched scream at the larger one before racing off into the gathered clouds, taking her stunned rider along with her. Shirley could only catch a glimpse of the others clearing the trees before they too started in different directions, sprays of energy flying from filmy wings.

Gasping, she held on for dear life, the wind biting through her terribly. This had not been a good day at all, and it didn't seem like it would be over anytime soon. Curling forward as much as she could to avoid the rushing air, she pleaded, /Home to Vellweb! Let's go home, Eremi! Let's just go home!/

---

A cold, clear dawn tinted the sky above the snow-covered city of Vellweb, easing its way sluggishly across the bare, unbroken landscape surrounding its walls. The business of the day was slowly beginning as the sun shone through oiled paper windows to wake sleepy people, as merchants prepared to set up their stalls for the morning market and children brought in wood to feed the family fires.

The quietness was shattered, however, by the snaps of giant wings overhead and the sudden ear-splitting roar of a stressed Dragon. Those outside in the freezing streets looked up in awe; Dragons were not common in Gloriano, and four together were unheard of. The awe quickly turned to fear as the large reptiles began to descend, screams echoed by slamming doors as people ran to hide.

Three figures in the upper city remained, running instead toward the precarious bridges connecting the tall buildings with the walls. The first Dragon landed on the barricade itself, perching almost like a bird on a clothesline, and the rest of the strange flock followed. By the time the three runners reached them, the Dragoons had dismounted and their vassal Dragons were back in the air again, scattering upon their companions' commands.

"You made it! You're safe!" Zieg exclaimed, clutching his stomach as he tried to catch his breath, puffs of air swirling around his face like smoke in the chill as he looked up to watch the two unfamiliar Dragons depart. "What the hell happened to all of you?"

Shirley's teeth were chattering, her cheeks flushed from windburn; Belzac had flung his cloak around her when they'd first met up again, but she already felt frozen to the core and it did little good. Kanzas too seemed blue around the lips, while the others had been more prepared. The flight back hadn't been very fun at all, their sleep caught in short shifts during the night, and even their infrequent stops to warm up again had to be kept short due to the need to hurry.

A young man had come along with Rose and Zieg, hanging back from the others. He had the same raven hair and pale skin as the swordswoman, but there the resemblance ended. Like the other two, he was dressed in thick layers of clothing and cloaks, a hood shading most of his face from the wind.

Syuveil, catching sight of him, stepped forward and asked, "Shynn? Did-"

"No," he answered softly, his gloved hands holding something close to his chest. "Not yet. But it will."

Rose, flicking her eyes across the group, shook her head, reaching almost absently to hold Zieg back as he started to ask again what had happened. "We can talk later. Everyone should go get warm first. Besides, people are going to start to wonder if we stand around here."

"You're right," the blonde man admitted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Lord Diaz asked to see us when you returned, so let's meet up in the council chamber, all right?"

Silent for a moment, the others nodded agreement before slowly beginning to split up; Syuveil and Shynn headed for the towers as Zieg moved to speak to Kanzas, who let himself be ushered off with little resistance. Shirley stared at the walkways and staircases between the wall and her room high above, her heart sinking at the distance she still had to cover. I don't know if I can walk all that way. My legs don't want to move…

"Let me help you, Shirley," Rose offered understandingly, slipping her hand under the other woman's elbow to support her. "It's not as far as it looks." She looked up at Belzac, who was still hovering protectively nearby, and told him, "You should go get a cloak, yourself. You know it's not good to walk around without one here."

He sighed, realizing what she wanted, and gave her a faint smile. "Okay, Rose. It's good to see you, too." She smiled in return, the rare gesture lighting up her ivory face, and he turned reluctantly to find the staircases to the lower city, knowing his beloved would be taken care of.

Slowly but insistently, Rose helped Shirley to her room, her slender form belying the strength she had in her arms as she nearly dragged the red-haired Dragoon up flights of stairs. The interior of her tower was almost as cold as the air outside, however, and when Rose left her to open the grate to the fire pits below she sank onto the white-leather couch and tried her best not to cry from the pain of moving her numbed limbs.

The door creaked open again and closed as she returned, and Rose stamped snow from her boots before moving to the corners of the room and kicking open the levers of the heating vents. Fires, kept burning constantly on lower levels of the towers and the 'palace' building, were controlled by trapdoors on the floors below so the warmth would rise easily to the rooms at the top of the tall structures.

As the air began to warm, the clouds of their breath fading from view, the dark-haired woman dragged several blankets from the bed and draped them around Shirley's shoulders, tucking them in closely. "There," she said, shrugging back her own fur-lined indigo wrap to better free her arms. "You'll be fine in no time. You're warmer already from walking, see?"

"Thank you," she mumbled thickly, staring down at her lap before looking up again. "You're a Dragoon now, Rose? They never said…"

"Yes," she answered with a quicksilver smile. "And now I'm beginning to realize why you always seemed to be talking to angels."

Her cheeks reddening even more with embarrassment, Shirley coughed a little, not sure what to say. Picking up a carved wooden comb from the top of a small table, Rose took a seat next to her and silently began to work the tangles from her red hair. Sniffling slightly, she sat there and let her do it.

Slowly, as though she'd been chewing on the matter for a while, Rose paused and said, "We'll have to move more quickly. But there are six Dragoons now, and we have all seven spirits. Lord Diaz has begun gathering the forces. They're not going to find us unprepared."

"I shouldn't have-" she spat out, just as quickly cutting herself off. Shirley shook her head, raising her hand to pat away the moisture forming in the corners of her eyes. Wrapped in blankets as she was, she ended up using the corner of one and scratching her eyelids with the wool. "No," she said quietly, "we don't have time for me to feel sorry for myself." What good would it do? We have to think about saving Gloriano from my mistake now.

"There is still a little time left," Rose informed her soberly.

Wiggling her toes a bit, she pried off her sodden shoes with the toe of the opposite foot, the gravity of her responsibility settling heavily upon her. "Not enough of it, I'm afraid." Reluctantly, she stood up, trailing blankets with her as she shuffled across the room toward the chest with her clothes in it.

The other woman shrugged, crossing one leg over the other as she remained seated. "You'll feel better after you get some rest," she decided, swinging her booted foot lightly.

Shirley's usual robe had been washed since her last journey, and she tossed it onto the bed along with some warm undergarments. Only when she had no other choice did she let the blankets and Belzac's cloak fall, goosebumps springing up on her arms and legs as she pulled off the ragged Southlands attire in favor of a worn shift and thick, long stockings.

"In Kadessa," she tried to explain as she shook her robe out to put it on, "I just - couldn't breathe. I wasn't doing anything, and I still couldn't rest. I don't know how else to say it, but it felt as though…as though the city itself was draining away my energy."

"Yes, it does seem like that," Rose agreed quietly, her eyes focused into the distance as if she could see through the tower wall. "Maybe it's true. We'll be going back there someday, you know."

Pulling the blue-green fabric down to hang straight, she reached for her cloak, also freshly clean and mended. Its weight finally seemed to chase away the coldness that had settled in her bones. "I know," Shirley replied tonelessly, shaking her head to keep the thoughts of it away. Attacking the capital seemed so far in the future when the war had yet to begin. "Someday."

"It seems we'll have a lot to discuss today, however."

I know that too, and maybe I'm sorry to you most of all, for what you'll have to hear. Returning to the sitting area, she jammed her feet back into her shoes and sighed. Catching the other woman's eye, she gestured with her head toward the door, tucking her hands under her elbows for extra warmth. "Yes, so let's get it over with."

Nodding, Rose unfolded long legs and stood, giving her a thoughtful look. "You don't seem yourself," she remarked as they stepped outside onto the landing, its brown stone layered thickly with snow. "I'd have expected you to say we shouldn't keep Lord Diaz waiting, or the others."

Shirley shrugged half-heartedly, focusing on not slipping as they descended the icy stairs. "There's a lot I've been thinking about."

"Hmm," she murmured expressively, "I wonder if it's the company you've been keeping this last week, instead."

"Not you too!" she shot back, more exasperated than she let on. Perhaps she could see why her friends would feel that way, though. "Kanzas has his reasons for being…unfriendly. Now that he's a Dragoon, things might change."

She raised a shoulder in a shrug and let out a gentle sigh as they turned the corner at the entrance to the towers. "I think you just trust too easily, Shirley. You're too kind, and you can be taken advantage of. He hasn't proven to me-"

Raised voices at the other end of the stone walkway interrupted her, and the women glanced quickly at each other before jogging toward the group gathered around the entrance to the building hanging in the center of the city. The two guards, dressed in Diaz's colors of rust-orange and white, were barring the arched doors, their spears crossed protectively in front of the doorway against five familiar male figures.

"Come on," Zieg was demanding loudly, "this doesn't make any sense!"

"I'm sorry, my lord," the guard replied stiffly, "but our orders were quite clear."

Syuveil shook his head, frowning deeply. "But you've known him as long as you've known me."

The answer came back immediately: "Lord Diaz has commanded it, sir. Only six have been called for, and Sir Shynn is not among them."

"What's going on?" Shirley asked Belzac in a soft voice, coming up beside him. She wasn't very happy that everyone was standing outside when they could be indoors by now.

He looked down, his voice worried as he told her, "They aren't letting Shynn come with us, for some reason." Glad to see her looking alive again, he placed his hand on her shoulder, but a moment later she stepped forward toward the guard, her jaw tensed, and it fell away.

"You were given orders to only let us in?" she asked the guards herself, cocking her head to one side.

"Yes, my lady," one of them said, his face pleading with her though he tried to keep it impassive. "Lord Diaz gave the order personally."

The young man in question opened his mouth, trying to speak before the words came, reaching out almost imploringly. "Haven't I served him faithfully? Just because I'm not a-" He cut himself off just in time, remembering that they might be overheard.

Rose shook her head, giving him a sidelong glance. "We should not argue with Lord Diaz," she announced. "I'm sorry, Shynn."

"Why are we arguing?" Kanzas spat, gesturing dismissively. He was wearing a dark castoff coat several sizes too large, the sleeves flapping as he waved. Without any spare clothing of his own, as of yet, it seemed that Zieg had seen to providing some for him. "He's obviously not…been chosen," he amended with some effort. Whirling on the guard, he said, "I'm going in. Are you going to let me in?"

"Y-yes, sir," he answered, stunned into motion. However, as he reached for the ring to pull open the door, he looked back at the others hesitantly, as if expecting trouble.

His lips compressing into a thin line, Shynn gave Kanzas a dark look before turning to stride away. "Shynn, wait!" Syuveil reached to grab hold of his navy-blue cloak as he left, but he yanked it out of reach, moving quickly toward the stairs to the lower city. "This isn't right!" the Jade Dragoon muttered, watching his friend go for a moment as the small group began to silently file in through the doorway.

"They were just doing what they were told," Shirley tried to assure him, but she knew it would do no good and so went quiet, staring downward as the six of them made their way beneath the towers. A sort of thoughtful stillness had fallen over them, no one wanting to start talking first.

Inside the building, Zieg led them down the spiral hallway, further past the rooms in which they were accustomed to meeting their lord. The next room was also flanked by two members of Diaz's personal guard, who merely opened the doors to them, revealing a torchlit chamber mostly filled by a large, rectangular table.

As Shirley began to follow the others in, a hand seized her wrist, pulling her aside briefly. "I feel like we're going before Nomos," Kanzas muttered to her with a mocking grin. "What kind of punishment does Master give disobedient Dragoons?"

She shuddered at the thought of the notorious Wingly judge, twisting her arm from his grip. "Don't say things like that! He will be disappointed," she answered unhappily, "but we won't be punished."

"Oh," his voice dripped sarcasm, "but then however will we learn better?"

"Stop it! You aren't making this any easier!" Spinning away, she walked into the council room, feeling self-conscious as she took a seat next to Belzac near the head of the table.

Shortly afterward, a servant entered surreptitiously, bearing a tray. Slipping between them, she placed clay goblets of mulled wine in front of each of them, barely breaking the stillness. Kanzas wandered in casually a few moments later, ignoring the chairs but rather strolling over to the window and flicking aside the thick drapes to look out. There wasn't much to see, however, as the building was surrounded by the seven towers. Their bases were all that was visible outward from this room, although the city was spread out below.

"Not much of a view, perhaps," a voice nearby said suddenly, "but it does remind us of our strength."

Trying to hide his surprise, the russet-haired man turned to face the owner of the voice, finding Diaz standing there. Though it was true he was already in his forties, the ruler of Gloriano seemed much older now, bowed as if beneath an invisible weight, his face lined with worry. "I guess it's a nice pile of rock," Kanzas muttered, well aware of the others at the table watching him to see what he'd do.

The nobleman smiled knowingly, replying, "One of those towers will be yours now, Kanzas, as you are now a Dragoon. Shirley is not often wrong about such things, so I cannot be too surprised that you and Belzac are now among us. Rose as well." He looked around the room, adding, "It makes me glad to see our table almost filled."

As Diaz moved to take his seat, Kanzas said, "Hey, wait." Inwardly laughing at the way Rose and Belzac tensed in anger at the disrespect, he went on, "You reminded me; I made a deal with Shirley. So…" Clearing his throat a bit, he took a step forward and then stood back again, raising his hand and then dropping it. "Oh, hell. Since I am a Dragoon, and since I don't think I could actually do much alone, I…swear to serve you. I'll join your campaign and fight for you and…all that."

Startled, Shirley sat up straight, turning to stare at him. Though it had probably been the most awkward oath of fealty she could imagine, he'd certainly sworn it. At the moment, she couldn't decide what to feel about that. That's right, she remembered, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach briefly. I did say…

Raising his eyebrows, Diaz nodded. "I accept whatever loyalty you can spare for me, Kanzas," he replied with vague amusement. "I do hope that I will earn more of it in time."

As Diaz moved to take his seat, Belzac frowned to himself, watching the other man drop into the chair on the other side of Shirley. Lord Diaz shouldn't have to earn his loyalty, he thought angrily, though the emotion quickly turned to horror as he realized what Kanzas had said. What did she promise him to get him to do that? Whatever it is, Shirley, it can't be worth it.

"Very well," their lord announced. "Let this council of Dragoons begin."

With everyone at the table, there was a conspicuous gap where one more of them should have been. They all eyed it for a moment, wondering if they should mention it, until Syuveil made the decision for them. "Lord Diaz," he said suddenly, his voice clear and loud as he put down his goblet, "why was Shynn not allowed to join us?"

The man looked curious, as if confused why the question had been asked in the first place. "Of course, it is because he is not a Dragoon. We cannot simply assume that he is to join your ranks, though indeed he won the spirit. In the end, Syuveil, the choice belongs to the Blue Sea Dragon - as Soa's fate decrees."

Although he looked distinctly unhappy, the bespectacled man nodded, sighing to himself. "I understand, my lord."

"Now," Diaz began, leaning forward slightly, dark eyes growing very serious, "Shirley, Kanzas, I would like to hear exactly how you ended up in Kadessa, and why two of your comrades had to go to assist you."

Her heart thumping loudly with dread, Shirley tightened her fists in her lap before finally looking upward. Kanzas interrupted her, however, before she could speak, saying, "We went to rescue my vassal Dragon from the arena." Anticipating the next question, he continued, "Wingly soldiers heard my fight and, when they came to see what happened, took him away."

"Kanzas was badly wounded," Shirley explained quickly. "We couldn't stop them."

The russet-haired man rocked back in his chair, tipping it up on two legs. He seemed oblivious to the looks the others were giving him, though he was aware of how nervous the woman at his side was. "I wasn't going to let them keep him," he told Diaz blithely, going on to summarize what he knew of the events that had followed.

She sat there and let him tell it, just watching her lord's expression change as he listened, seeing the pain flash across his face briefly when Kanzas mentioned the five executed slaves near the village center. Though the others made remarks and asked questions, she kept her eyes on Diaz alone. She could detect the disapproval hidden in his carefully neutral looks, his whole demeanor making her wonder why she'd gone along with the plan in the first place.

Shirley hated to think what his expression would look like when she told him her part of the tale, yet she had to do it; lying about it would be even worse.

Finally, Kanzas' story drew to a close, and there was a silence as the Dragoons waited for Diaz to react. The lord sighed, smoothing his beard with the palm of his hand, and then shifted in his seat. "Shirley," Diaz began, "I have known you for eight years, and I know that you would not have purposely done anything to endanger us."

She stared down at her hands twining in her lap, and he glanced to her left. The Thunder Dragoon met the other man's eyes with a steady glare, unmoved by the sternness in his tone.

"Kanzas, you are a newcomer here, so you could not have been expected to know. As the ruler of Gloriano, I have a responsibility to the free Humans I rule, and to all the races the Winglies kill or enslave. Until we are ready for war, there is a delicate line we must tread to prevent them from turning their magic upon us. We must prove that we have a chance against them, or else those enslaved will have no hope, will not join us."

He shrugged, raising his hand in a flippant wave. "I think we showed them that already, made a mockery of their damn arena. Let them chew on that while you make your armies or whatever."

"Or," Rose interjected strongly, "you only gave the Winglies cause to make more examples like you spoke of earlier, kill innocents to keep them afraid. Or you gave them just cause to come straight for us here. Listen to what Lord Diaz has said - for once."

Tenseness filled the room like a thick fog before Zieg cleared his throat loudly and said, "Well, there is a chance they will hold off on retaliating. From what I know, that Wingly you fought in the arena, Kanzas, was Arturo, the commanding officer of the army you two found encamped in the Southlands."

Raising an eyebrow, he remarked blandly, "Oh, so that's who he was."

"That's true," Syuveil murmured thoughtfully in response to Zieg, having missed the soft remark. "They'll have to wait until they can promote someone. Perhaps some in-fighting for the position. There wouldn't be much chance for them to launch an attack from there, at any rate. They might not consider it worth the effort."

"Even with all the damage we did?" Belzac asked skeptically. "Melbu Frahma was there; he saw our transformations and our Dragoon armor. He even said-" Cutting himself off, he looked to Shirley, but when she didn't even turn her head, he knew he had to finish the statement. "He knew that we were Dragoons, somehow, that we were from Vellweb."

Rose made a thoughtful noise, though shaking her head in disbelief. "It wouldn't be hard to guess Vellweb," she remarked, "but…well, we know there must be spies here. Fara, for one. That there are Dragoons here could have slipped out easily. But, even if he knows the name-"

"Lord Diaz," Shirley blurted suddenly, her face chalky and her palms cold and clammy. She looked up at his kind face across the table, and he waited patiently as she formed words and then cast them aside, until she got out, "Frahma will retaliate. I tried to kill him, Lord Diaz, but I failed. I thought…he was the one who darkened our lives, he was the one who started all this pain. And, if he was dead, then so many more lives could be spared."

Rose and Zieg stared at her in disbelief; Kanzas' chair legs made a thunk on the floorboards as he sat up, giving her a look of realization. So that's why she's nervous. Why does she care so much about that? So what if she failed? There's other chances.

Diaz turned the plain silver band on his ring finger almost absently, though his attention never wavered from his first Dragoon. "But he anticipated you?" he asked evenly.

Shirley closed her eyes, as if being unable to see them would erase their reactions somehow; her voice became a soft cry from the darkness there. "He must have, my lord. His - his little slave girl - stepped forward and took the blow." And fell dead there, wondering why the angel in white came from the sky with a knife for her-

Even closed eyes couldn't bar her from Rose's sharp indrawn breath, or the sound of uncomfortable silence from the rest. Belzac's large hand moved to cover her own, shockingly warm against her bloodless, cold fingers, and she jumped in surprise, finally daring to open her eyes again, although she couldn't make herself look straight at anyone.

"It was a regrettable accident," Diaz told her, sympathy coloring his voice before it hardened again. "And yet what you did cannot be changed. We will increase our defenses as we can, and prepare for the worst." He stood suddenly, flipping his cloak back off his shoulders. "Zieg."

"My lord?" the blonde man responded automatically, the words jarred from his lips.

"We will have several days before our allies arrive," he said, "and in that time, it is imperative that we discover the last Dragoon. I am sorry, Syuveil, but we cannot count on the spirit accepting Shynn. As the others quite likely now have bounties on their heads, you and Rose must search for our new bearer."

With uncharacteristic nervousness, Zieg nodded, glancing at the dark-haired woman beside him. Rose was sitting in stony stillness, her eyes focused on an invisible point across the room. Finally, he ran his hand through his hair and responded, "Yes, sir, as you command."

Nodding curtly in return, Diaz said, "There are matters I must now attend to. We no longer have time to waste. This council is done."

Very slowly, the six Dragoons around the table rose to their feet, bowing in respect, although their minds were certainly not on the ceremony. Even Kanzas inclined his head rather sardonically, his eyes on Shirley rather than his new leader.

The doors creaked open to let Diaz pass, the impassive guards standing aside, and not long after he had disappeared down the hallway, Syuveil coughed awkwardly. Sweeping saddened eyes across the others, he too turned away and quickly took his leave as well.

Inhaling a deep, shuddering breath, Shirley turned to the other woman, her hands clasped at her collarbone. She knew exactly why the Dragoon of Darkness was so quiet now, had turned so cold and frozen. "Rose," she pleaded in a breaking voice, "Rose, please-"

"It was…" She shook her head, leaning suddenly against her chair. "It was for the best, Shirley. She would not have had much of a life."

The red-haired healer reached out for her hand, the room blurring before her as tears arose. "I'm sorry…please, forgive me-"

Gently, but quite firmly, Rose pushed her outstretched hand away, turning her head in a sharp motion. Zieg slipped his arm around her, and she moved to hide her face against his red tunic briefly before stepping toward the door. Though he went with her, Zieg mouthed over his shoulder 'give her time'; Shirley barely saw it, her chest hitching with a sob she fought to control.

Folding her hands between his own, Belzac said soothingly, "She knows you didn't mean to do it, Shirley. Everyone knows that."

"But I should have known better!" she protested. "I should have known better, and I did it anyway!"

Kanzas crossed his arms in front of him, suddenly reminding them he was there as he remarked, "Why does Rose care so much, anyway? Why's it up to her to forgive you or not?"

Hesitant to answer, Shirley finally told him, "Because…she was once like that child. Before she was freed, she was Melbu Frahma's personal slave." Her voice grew louder despite her attempts to keep it down. "It could have been Rose I - I killed!"

"But it wasn't. You're all making a big deal out of nothing."

"Don't you say another word, you little monster!" Belzac roared, whirling on him. "You got her into this! Don't you feel any guilt at all for what you've put her through?"

Unflinching, he gave the half-Giganto a smirk, holding his ground. "It's a war, isn't it? Isn't it what you wanted? If Shirley wants to fight in a war, she can't carry everyone else's wounds. People die. Children die. Winglies too, I imagine. If that kid was a Wingly, we wouldn't be bothering with this right now."

Belzac's face reddened in anger, his hands clenching into fists. He didn't know what stung more, Kanzas' unfeeling or the kernel of truth in his words. How many silver-haired children had been in the arena stands the man had torn through yesterday? "You have no soul," he snarled.

He laughed shortly in return, "And what would I do with one? Why should I care if Rose was like that dead girl? If I swore revenge for every murdered slave-"

"No, don't you go on, Kanzas," Shirley told him sternly, quickly reaching to squeeze his arm and stop him. "You do understand Rose's feelings. I know this because I saw what you did when we came across that…warning."

He pulled away from her abruptly, scowling, and shouted, "Then you go ahead and cry for them, Shirley! Cry a tear for every soul in Mayfil, cry a tear for every Wingly whose life you take! Go ahead and sob your eyes out, little warrior! Let your sorrow give you Heaven!"

Shirley drew herself up straight, her teeth clenched. There was too much depending on them now, and she could not remain the same in the face of that great responsibility. "No," she hissed, seeing out of the corner of her eye Belzac starting in shock. "I don't have the right to do that. No, Kanzas - I will not cry anymore…"