…

Something was digging into her spine. Mara groaned and tried to move, but found herself restrained. Both of her hands were crushed against her stomach and she struggled to pull them out. Stone crunched and groaned as she moved. Her legs were entangled in something; a deep pain throbbed in her hip and sharp stone edges jabbed into her from every angle. She opened her eyes. Blackness. Blackness and empty, cold air.

Finally her right hand popped out and she dropped it onto whatever weight was pinning her. Cloth…cloth? She felt around. Cloth and leather and metal and rocks. Her hand searched higher. Skin, hair, rocks…blood.

Fastion!

She was barely able to get a breath past his dead weight. Not dead, Mara thought. Not dead. Panic lending her strength, she pushed and squirmed her way out from beneath him. Blood slushed painfully through her veins, but she disregarded it as she struggled to her hands and knees. Sharp stones moved as she tried to balance herself on them and she collapsed a number of times before finally stabilizing herself enough to roll Fastion onto his back. Like a rag doll, he tipped over the broken rock, limbs splaying, head lolling.

"Fastion?" she whispered, groping for his face, then his mouth. Breathe, she thought. Please breathe. She waited for what seemed an eternity, then…had that been one? Just a faint warming of her fingertips? Her other hand traveled to his neck. There – his heartbeat, quivering feebly beneath his skin. She took up his hand. Ice cold. She folded his arms over his chest and coaxed a flame over her palms. It flickered and wavered, then extinguished. Her forehead drooped against his stomach. Just a short rest, she thought. Then she could make a bigger fire.

She was deathly cold. Moaning, she pulled up her heavy head, grimacing at the pain in her neck. Everything around her was still black as night, but her mind was clearer. How much time had passed? An hour? A day? Her new flame burned with fervor and she held it close to Fastion's heart.

As she watched, a faint glimmer appeared beneath his shroud of black lashes. She held her breath. The glimmer disappeared, then reappeared a few moments later when his eyes opened wider. The flames danced in his dilated pupils.

"Fastion?" she whispered.

His lips moved, but no sound came out. Mara released the fire in one hand and reached up to his face. He looked much as he did when the Weapons first brought him to the Mending Wing: blood matted his hair and trickled over his eyelids and down his cheeks, the flesh beneath it ashen. But he was alive. "Hello," she murmured, touching his cheek. Was that her smile shadowing the corner of his mouth? She liked to think so.

His eyes glinted. "Fire…" he croaked. She laughed.

"Yup, it's me." Lifting her hand, she coaxed the flame bigger. High above them, a jagged hole indicated where the floor had caved in. Fallen rock formed strange hills around them, but none reached the opening above. "Why couldn't this have happened when the Weapons were here?" she mused aloud.

Fastion whispered something. Mara leaned in closer.

"Hurt…?"

"You are very hurt," she replied, gingerly touching his forehead. "It's your head again, and this time we don't have Ben."

"No," he murmured, his eyelids flickering. "You."

"Me? I'll have some interesting bruises, but I'm fully functional." She smiled.

His breath rattled out of his lungs and his eyes drifted shut. "Good."

She gazed down at him, brushing away a rivulet of blood. When they'd fallen, somehow he had held onto her, seizing her with arms and legs, forcing her head safely against his chest. She distantly remembered landing on top of him, and then rolling as stone chunks fell and shifted around them, but then the lantern shattered and everything had gone dark.

Coaxing her flame larger, she held it out toward the surrounding walls. From what she could see, there was no way back up. She sighed and looked back down at Fastion. His eyes had opened once more into slits. Fresh blood trickled down into them. Stupid – she should have tended his injuries first. With hands and teeth, Mara fought to tear her coat into strips. The blood on his head seemed to come from his earlier injury, reopened in the fall. She wadded up a strip and pressed it against the wound, wrapping it in place with another. "Does anything else hurt?" she asked, pointedly ignoring her own pains.

There was no response. When she had assured herself he hadn't died, she sat back on her heels with another sigh. This was not good. If his head injury didn't kill him, trying to climb out of here would, and if no escape presented itself, they would be stuck here forever. She sighed again, fingering her brooch. She should try looking around, but exhaustion was creeping into her limbs. Tossing decorum aside, she curled up around the Weapon, tucking his icy hands between their bodies and holding a flame at his chest.

She drifted in and out of sleep. She recalled her fire puttering out at some point, and Fastion talking – whether he had been awake or asleep, she didn't know. There also seemed to be a distinct drop in temperature and she snuggled up against him, trying to ignore the stones and what must have been his sword hilt digging into her flesh. Strange images passed across her vision – bright colors, swirling like water and dripping into pools of blood. The device sat on its pedestal, dazzling her. Black-clad bodies were piled at its base, Fastion crowning the heap, his head cracked and seeping blood. His eyes – such beautiful gray eyes – watched her unseeingly.

She jerked with a cry, panicking in the darkness until she remembered where she was. Fastion was silent beside her, though she could feel him shivering. Had it become winter in here? She pried her arm out and tested the air. Definitely winter. She pulled it back in. Why had she used her coat to bind his head?

"Mara…"

She forced herself out of the nest of stone she had created, holding a flame to his face. "How do you feel?" she asked, touching his cheek.

"We need to…find – " he winced, " – a way out."

If there was a way out. "No, not while you're like this. We'll stay here until you're stronger."

"I'm…strong enough." To her dismay, he tried sitting up.

"Stop!" She clutched his arms, trying to restrain his movements. "Please, lay back down. You'll hurt yourself more!"

Grimacing, he finally acquiesced, grunting as he settled back on the stones. "Shouldn't…be this weak," he muttered.

"You're not weak. You're injured. Did you hurt yourself more?"

"No…" The word was barely audible. "It's cold…"

"I know."

He took a handful of her shirt and tugged. "Lay back down."

It could have been romantic, Mara thought as she nestled beside him, were they in a bed rather than on a pile of broken rock and not teetering on the brink of death. His grip slackened and his head drooped. Mara, on the other hand, hovered just beyond sleep, too agitated to relax. She tried listening to Fastion's sluggish heartbeat, but that just aggravated her more. How long had they been down here? What was happening up above? Where were the other Riders, the Weapons, the servants, the nobles? Where were Karigan and the king? She heaved a sigh. Was there any way out of this pit?

After what seemed like hours, Fastion finally stirred. Mara knelt and leaned over him. Her makeshift bandage was still intact and no fresh blood was visible on his face. Licking her fingers, she tried to clean off the old blood. His face scrunched like a child's under her ministrations and she smothered a giggle.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better." One eye cracked open. "How are you?"

She offered a weak smile. "Alive."

He exhaled deeply, shifting his weight on the rocks. After a moment, he rolled onto his side and pushed himself up. Mara grabbed him with one hand as he wavered, eyes unfocusing, then he gave himself a brisk shake and sat up completely.

"Are you all right?" she asked, peering into his strained features.

"Yes." He squinted into the darkness. "Have you searched for a way out?"

Mara stood carefully. "Not really. I looked around from where I sat." She turned at the sound of rocks moving. Fastion was valiantly trying to stand. "You really shouldn't be doing that," Mara tried. She failed. Between the loose stones and his reeling head, his footing was shaky and he grasped Mara's proffered hand, leaning heavily on its inadequate strength.

Mara's flame expanded as they approached one of the walls. They made their way around the entire perimeter of the room, searching for anything that looked like an escape. They considered the distance to the upper level, but decided it was too high, even with their combined heights. The hallway leading to the device room remained available, but it was a dead end.

Fastion inspected the wall carvings, as if to divine some sort of escape from them. "It appears as though this was some sort of religious ceremonial room," he mused. "These figures here – " he pointed, " – look to be priests." He continued on at length, his voice blurring beneath the angry pounding of Mara's head. She leaned against the wall, breathing steadily, wishing her brain was somewhere far away.

"Mara?" Fastion said at her ear. "Not giving up, are you?"

Mara blinked rapidly. Her fire had extinguished and they stood in complete darkness.

"I'm sorry." The flame flickered back into life. Despite its heat, she shivered. It really was freezing down here.

Fastion watched her closely. "Are you feeling well?"

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. "Yes, I'm fine."

His lips tightened, but he didn't answer. Instead, he turned back to the wall. "These are very old," he said. Mara sighed. More history. "Very old. They remind me of images depicted on the tombs in the Heroes Portal. This here, see?" He splayed his hand across the stone. "This must be from the Long War. I recognize that figure – he shows up many times in the carved allegories in the tombs. He is an Arcosian artisan."

Mara stepped closer, following Fastion's hand as he drew invisible lines across the wall. "That looks like the pedestal the device was on," Mara noted.

"Yes…the artisan is standing beside it."

Mara moved his hand aside. "Isn't that your crest? The shield?"

Fastion squinted. "Yes. I believe you are right." His brow knuckled. "I thought these figures were priests, but now I see…they must be Black Shields."

"What are they doing…?" Mara wondered. She continued along the wall. "Is that the device?" A large blocky object had been depicted in the center of some sort of room, surrounded by the Weapons.

Fastion joined her. "It's been depicted far too large. The thing was only the size of my fist." He leaned away, his face suddenly troubled. "Mara, this image reminds me of the way they were guarding the device."

She nodded absently. "This must have happened before," she said. "Don't you think? These walls are telling the story of what happened. Here, the Black Shields are guarding it – or, guarding that man, the Arcosian." They reached a corner and moved on to the next wall.

"Perhaps it will tell us how to stop it…" Fastion absently took her wrist and raised it, as though it were a lantern. "These have all been worn off." He hurried on, pulling Mara behind him. They reached a scattering of clearer carvings.

"These are different," Mara mused. "Look, this is the little device, and there aren't any Black Shields." Her lips twisted as she considered the image. She took a few steps away, then rolled her eyes. "Of course! This is the room we found it in. See where it is? And here's that long hallway."

"And this is the room we're in now. There are the two doorways we saw earlier."

"The doorways…?"

"They were walled-in."

Mara remembered. She said, "They looked sealed in this image, as well."

Fastion was nodding slowly. "Yes. They must have subdued its power somehow, put it in that room, then blocked all entrances."

Mara walked back along the wall. "And of course, the part where they subdue its power is all worn off." She shook her head. "This is so incredibly not useful."

"Not necessarily. We know it happened once, during the Arcosian occupation, and that the device can be stopped. We also know that those doorways lead out of this room." He surprised her with a sideways grin. "It's worth a try."

Mara offered a tight-lipped smile and followed him back the way they had came. Fastion stopped and pressed his hands against the wall. It looked like he was staring at the granite, but when he pulled away, she saw dark openings and cracks. "Here's one of the doorways. The stones must have come loose in the collapse." He drew his sword and smacked the hilt against the stones. Mara sat down, more than willing to let him have at it. He managed a few more hits until the sword slipped from his grip and he dropped to his knees, clutching his head. Mara crawled to him.

"Aren't we a pair?" she whispered, holding his broad shoulders. "Maybe we should just go back to sleep."

"That would be unacceptable." He forced himself up and began pulling rock bits out with his hands.

It was a joke, Mara thought irritably. Nevertheless, she held a flame with one hand and tugged at stone with the other. The bottom half of the doorway had been unaffected by the collapse and therefore proved impossible to take apart. The top, however, eventually became an opening.

"Let me lift you through." Fastion sheathed his blade, then crouched. Mara placed her foot in his cradled hands and was raised up. She stuck her hand through the opening. "What do you see?"

"Nothing. Just a hallway of some sort." She grabbed the barrier and hoisted herself through. Shimmying across the thick wall, she had a moment of distress when she realized she'd fall head-first onto the floor. "Lower me slowly, please," she requested. She felt his fingers curl securely around her ankles and he pushed her through. When her fingers brushed the floor, she said, "You can let me go now!" He did so at once and she dropped onto her outstretched hands. She leaned her legs against the wall and was very grateful Fastion was on the other side and couldn't see the extremely embarrassing process of getting her feet on the floor without face planting.

"Mara?" Fastion called. "Are you hurt?"

"No." Mara finally stood and dusted herself off, trying to ignore her angry body. When this was all over, she was going to sleep for a week. She ignited a flame, then let out a muffled shriek.

"What? What is it?"

Mara swallowed. "We're not the only ones to get stuck down here." From heaps on the floor, two skulls grinned ghoulishly up at her.

She heard stones crunching and backed away as Fastion came through the hole – somehow feet-first, she noted. He slipped through and landed lightly. He hesitated before standing, however, one hand reaching to touch his head and his lips tightening into a grim line. Mara watched in concern.

Fastion finally straightened and turned. He stared down at the two piles of bones and litter, eyebrows slowly furrowing. A frown tugged his mouth. "Strange…" he murmured, crouching. Mara shrunk away as he sifted through the bones. "There are chains here." He picked up a piece of metal and scrutinized it. After a moment, he put it back, staying in a crouch until he apparently came to some sort of decision and stood.

"What is it?" Mara asked, trying to read his impassive features.

"I don't know. It appears as though they were chained."

Mara stared. "Chained? Like prisoners? Did they starve to death here?"

"Most likely." He frowned thoughtfully. "This must have happened before Saverill, yet I do not recall ever hearing about it."

Mara continued to gape. "Happened before Saverill? You mean…these were Black Shields?"

"Yes. They were in full regalia when they were placed here. How strange…I've never seen this form of punishment before."

"How strange? Is that all you have to say?"

He looked at her. "What else is there to say?"

She stammered. "I-I don't know." She huffed. "Something." She gestured to the bones. "They were alive once."

"Clearly they lived badly." Before Mara could respond, he turned from the skeletons and said, "Torches." He pulled one from its dusty sconce on the wall. "Excellent." He held it out to Mara, who glared before lighting it.

They proceeded to walk, completely in silence. The hallway turned occasionally, steepened occasionally, dipped occasionally, and split occasionally. They passed rotting doors dangling from rusty hinges, disintegrating tapestries, and sagging furniture. They found windows, but only the darkness of another wall waited beyond.

Mara stole glances at the Weapon as they walked. His eyes remained fixed ahead, his lips turned in frown, his overall mystery broken only occasionally when he reached up to readjust the wrappings around his head. How cold he was, she thought. How distant. Yet she knew that beneath his impassive exterior, an inconceivable passion burned. He would give his life without a second thought, was it necessary. And he would kill just the same.

Who was he? What was his last name? Which province claimed his birth? Did he have parents? Brothers? Sisters? She opened her mouth to ask the questions brimming in her mind, then clamped her teeth down and stared at her feet.

"Are you hungry?" he suddenly asked.

"I've gone longer than this without food," she assured him truthfully. Had he?

He fell silent, then asked, "Are you cold?"

"A bit." She rubbed her hands together and she saw him watching the orange glow that appeared between them.

"Are you tired?"

She looked at him, keeping a smile away from her mouth. "A little bit."

He immediately stopped walking. "We should rest."

Mara's smile made a brief appearance. "Good idea."

They settled on the floor beside each other, an appropriate space between them. Mara leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. The stone served as a poor pillow, but she had slept in worse conditions before.

"Tell me," Fastion murmured, "of the life of a Rider."

Mara opened her eyes, surprised. "What do you want to know?"

"Is it difficult?"

She exhaled deeply. "Sometimes."

He raised his eyes to hers. They looked translucent in the dim light. "When?"

"When it's hailing and the only shelter you can find is a dead tree." She chuckled. "When all you have to eat is berries. When you get pelted by rotten fruit." He looked surprised and she explained, "Not everyone is as dedicated to the king as you are." A smile flickered across his lips and he looked at his hands. "When you're beaten and mugged by thieves." Her smile faded. "When your horse is lamed and you have to kill him. When you're killed because someone doesn't like the message you deliver." She frowned into the darkness.

Fastion watched her. "And yet you still go."

Mara laughed. "And yet we do." She turned her head toward him. Their gazes met and lingered, and Mara felt her heart begin to thump. She then saw his eyes drift down to the right side of her face and she jerked her head around, fighting the urge to cover her face with her hair. "And what of you? What of the life of a Black Shield?"

He didn't respond. She peered at him from the corner of her eye. He was staring into the torchlight. With a sigh, Mara leaned her head against the wall again. So many secrets. Her eyes shut. Too many secrets.

"…training…."

She was warmer than she'd been in a long time. She snuggled closer to the source.

"And King Zachary can be…there is so much more…"

A hand was in her hair, coiling and caressing. Another held her waist, unhurried fingers tracing circles up and down her side. She sighed with satisfaction.

"…always watching the…they can't see what they have…"

Her face rested against padded cloth, but she could feel the bristles of an unshaven jaw on her forehead and the breath that warmed the murmured words.

"There are differences…those that are stricter…some would never consider…"

She pulled closer and he shifted to accommodate her, his low chuckle rumbling through his armor.

"You make this dangerous…"

The hand in her hair moved to touch her face. Fingers parted her lips.

"But only once…just now…"

Mara opened her eyes. The torch burned cheerfully at her, welcoming her back to consciousness. She lifted her head from the wall. Her legs were stretched out before her, not at all wrapped up around Fastion's like she thought they were. That space between them still gaped at her and she looked at him, bewildered. He was still staring into the torchlight, but glanced up when she moved.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would awaken."

Her brow knuckled. "I thought – " She stopped. He watched her, his face devoid of any expression.

"You thought what?"

She looked away. "Nothing. Never mind." A dream, then. Quite a vivid dream.

He stood and held out a hand to assist her to her feet. "Shall we continue?"

"I suppose."

Their walk recommenced. They eventually came across a staircase that wheeled up into darkness. Emboldened, they hurried up, and up, and up. By the time they reached the top, their pace was considerably less hurried and Mara, at least, was extremely aware of each bruise on her body. They rested when they reached level ground.

"What will we do?" Mara asked, calming her lungs. "Now that we're back up."

"Find the device," Fastion answered, "and take it far away."

Mara nodded. "Sounds good to me."

They had only taken a few steps when Fastion grabbed her arm and pulled her to the wall. They waited in silence, until Mara dared to whisper, "What is it?"

"I heard a voice," he answered. "Perhaps it was nothing." Despite his words, he drew his sword. They crept forward, carefully rounding a corner, then another.

"No!"

Mara jumped. The echo swooped past them into the darkness. Fastion raised the torch away from his face, sinking down into a fighting stance so elegant Mara vowed never to even try sword fighting again. She watched him move ahead, each step silent and deliberate, his body held with practiced precision.

"No! Stop!"

Mara kindled a flame, fully prepared to scorch anyone who attacked.

"I know where we are," Fastion hissed over his shoulder.

"Stop, please! You're destroying everything!"

He slipped the torch into an empty sconce and gestured for Mara to join him. "Dakrias Brown," he whispered into her ear.

"It's not here!" The man was crying. "It's not here! Please stop!"

Mara extinguished her flame and they snuck down the hallway until they reached the office. The door stood wide open and torchlight spilled onto the stone, flickering with shadows. From inside the room came thumps and knocks, as well as Brown's impassioned pleas. Fastion leaned around the doorway and peered inside.

"There are two Black Shields," he hissed. "They're tearing his archives apart."

"But he's uninjured?"

"By all appearances."

"We have to help him." She moved and Fastion grabbed her.

"We are in no condition to fight."

"I can light them on fire," Mara hissed.

"We will not kill them," he growled, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Ooooh! You're worst than the ghosts! No! No! Not that box! Please don't – oooh nooo!"

"Then what do you want us to do?" Flames sparked over her fingers.

"We will wait – "

"Wait? Until what? Until they kill him like they've killed everyone else?"

"They haven't hurt him yet. They appear to be ignoring him."

"And when they stop ignoring him, what then?" She craned her neck to look around him. "We can take them by surprise now."

"We will wait until they leave. They are only searching his collection."

"You can't know that!" She tried to move past him again, but he took both her arms and forced her back against the wall.

"Do not," he growled.

From inside the room, Dakrias gave a distraught moan. "Can't you just look inside? Do you have to dump them everywhere like that? Oh no, no, no! Not that one – please!" There was a great crash, echoed by the man's aggrieved cry. "Why are you doing this?"

Mara and Fastion glared at each other. "Can't we just distract them?" Mara argued. "Make them chase us? We can lose them back in the shadows."

Fastion's jaw tightened, then he finally nodded and released her. She stepped into the doorway and gave a shout. Dakrias Brown turned to stare at her, but the Weapons ignored her as they worked their way deeper into the shelves. Mara frowned, then threw a flame at the wall. She remained ignored.

Fastion came to stand beside her. Dakrias whimpered and grabbed his already disheveled hair. "Not another one!" he moaned.

Mara threw her hands up. "They didn't even notice me."

Fastion stepped past her and approached the two Black Shields. They hardly glanced at him. "What are they searching for?" he asked as they emptied yet another box onto the floor.

"I don't know," Dakrias answered. "They just walked in here and began tearing things apart." He dragged his hands down his face.

Fastion suddenly snatched the wrist of one of the Black Shields. The woman paid him no heed, using her free hand to push more objects and files around. Fastion pulled on her arm. She moved past him to follow her companion along the shelf, but when Fastion's grip stopped her from walking, she stood in place, staring ahead at nothing. Fastion stepped nearer and took her other wrist.

Her head snapped around, eyes fixating on his face. Her features were disconcertingly blank, even as she broke his grip and lashed out at him with her fists. Weaponless, they seemed to dance – stepping, ducking, striking. Fastion seemed stiffer than the other, however, and Mara watched his features grow paler and more strained. A single line of blood trickled from beneath the dirty wrappings around his head and she clomped down on her fingernails.

"This is terrible, simply terrible," Dakrias lamented.

Mara flinched as the woman struck Fastion's jaw. His eyes glazed for an instant and the woman landed another hit to his stomach. Gods, what am I doing? Mara thought. Kindling fire, she rushed forward and lashed out at Fastion's opponent. She gave a shriek and clawed at her scorched eyes. Fastion grabbed her neck and after a moment, she fell limp in his grip. He lowered her to the ground, then went to find the other Weapon. The man seemed completely unaware that any sort of altercation had occurred and he obliviously dumped another container. Fastion quickly rendered him unconscious.

"Do you have any rope?" Mara asked Dakrias, who stared at her.

"Rope? What use would I have for rope down here?"

Mara joined Fastion, who was undoing the Weapon's belt. He removed the man's gauntlets and boots, then strapped his wrists and ankles together, tightening the belt until the leather sliced into his skin. Mara did likewise to the woman.

"Are – are you not traitors, then?" Dakrias inquired nervously. Fastion glanced at him, then took the Weapons' swords and stuck them high on a shelf, behind boxes. He teetered after hiding them, his face alarmingly white. Mara grabbed him.

"Here, over here, quickly!" Dakrias ushered them to his chair and Fastion sunk onto it, shaking. "Use this." Dakrias tossed Mara a wide square cloth from his desk and she quickly tore it up. She replaced the wrappings, grimacing as her eyes fell on the glistening wound.

"It's good to see that someone in this castle still their wits about them." Dakrias crouched and shuffled some papers on the floor, his face turned down in misery.

"Have you been badly treated?" Mara asked as she tied the new bandages. She gently wiped the blood from Fastion's cheek.

Dakrias sighed. "Just what you see here. I was in the main corridors earlier, but no one noticed me – thank the gods." He raised his head. "You two look like you've seen better times."

"Mara…" Fastion whispered, taking her hand.

"What is it?"

"There…look." He pointed at the floor. Mara followed his finger.

"What? I don't see anything." She crouched beside Dakrias and moved papers.

"There!" Fastion fell to his knees beside her, pulling a sheet of paper out. "It's the carvings from the room."

"Oh yes," Dakrias said, readjusting his spectacles. "Rubbings, they're called. I don't know where they came from."

"Are there more of them?"

He sighed and held out his arms at the disaster that was his office. "Somewhere."

The threesome scoured the mess, neatly piling perused papers into some semblance of order as they went. Slowly, the collection of rubbings increased until they stretched across the floor in similitude of the original carvings.

"This is the part that was worn off." Fastion and Mara leaned over the papers, head-to-head.

"All right…so here's the Arcosian – oh, here's the Arcosian's death. Wow. He's definitely dead there." Mara moved past the dismembered body.

"They've taken apart the device. See? Here's the smaller part, the one we found."

"So it's two pieces. That's why it looked so big in the earlier depictions. They broke it into two pieces and took the little piece and put it down in the castle, and then the bigger piece…" Mara traced a finger along the rubbing. "They sent with a Green Rider." She smiled. Of course. "The Rider rode away…somewhere…" She squinted. "I can't tell what that is. Can you?"

Fastion shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It's too smeared."

Dakrias, who had been silently listening, finally spoke. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but may I ask what this is all about?"

Mara sat cross-legged on the floor. "Don't you know what's been happening the last few days?"

"Not precisely." He shrugged at their expressions. "I spend most of my time here. No one has come down until now. I do know, however, that the Black Shields are gone…strange." He eyed Fastion uncertainly.

"There is a device," Fastion said. "A magical one. Mara and I found it some time ago. Somehow it is controlling the Black Shields and other military units." He gestured to the rubbings. "We think this is depicting a time when it took control in the past."

"Yes, yes…. Those rubbings are very old." Dakrias pulled at his lip. "What is the king doing about all this?"

"The king…isn't here."

Dakrias blinked, his eyes magnified by his spectacles. "Isn't here? Where has he gone in a time like this?"

Fastion and Mara exchanged a glance. "We…don't know where he is. But Karigan G'ladheon is with him." Mara smiled weakly. "That counts for something, right?"

Dakrias stood and began pacing, jerking his hands through his wiry hair. "This is truly terrible. Worse than I could have imagined. And this device – this is what these ones were looking for?" He gestured at the restrained Weapons.

"No…unless they've misplaced it. They took it from its original place."

Dakrias stopped pacing, pulling on his lip again. "This…yes, this is familiar…something I read a long time ago…perhaps, perhaps…" He disappeared back into his archives.

Mara glanced at Fastion. "How is your head?"

"A nuisance." He rose back onto Dakrias Brown's chair.

"Your jaw is bruised," Mara said, kneeling before him and turning his head. "It's swelling."

"We are trained to hit hard," he responded. Mara wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny or if he was just stating a fact.

"Yes, well, she'll discover a few bruises of her own when she wakes up." She smiled at him and he returned it, barely. Persisting, she said, "These rubbings are good news. I'm glad somebody thought to copy the carvings down."

"Yes…" He squinted at the pages. "It is a good insight into how much destruction will happen before this is all over."

Mara frowned at him. "You're excelling at crushing all my hope."

This got her a wider smile. "I apologize. These carvings, however, don't tell us how they were able to take the device apart."

"Here it is." Dakrias emerged from his archives. "Lucky you got here when you did, most of my files are still in place." He plopped scrolls onto his desk. "Now…I recall reading an interesting story…" He stretched open a scroll. "Here…"

Mara and Fastion stood close around him. The scroll was written in Old Sacoridian, with intricate images dotting it.

"Yes… 'The doorways have been successfully sealed' … 'The rooms around will be emptied' … la da da…. Oh! Yes. Here we go: 'Four Black Shields have been chained, their weapons removed, and placed two at each doorway as a warning for any who try to retrieve and use the – ' Oh dear. That's a word I can't pronounce. Arcosian, I think."

"The device," Fastion murmured. Mara glanced at him, but his expression was unreadable.

"Yes…must be. Anyway, 'These four have stepped forward to be made examples. Their code allows for nothing else.'" Dakrias sighed. "That's all, I'm afraid."

"That's it? There's nothing about the device or what happened?"

"No. I was very much confused when I first read this. I couldn't find any other reference to the sealing of a room, or the voluntary deaths of four Black Shields. However, I do have these." He pushed the scroll aside and opened two more. "The scribe that wrote these translated them from an Arcosian tome. It's a list of torture devices used by the Empire against its enemies. I read through it once, but apart from its general morbidity, it had nothing to offer. But when you mentioned the controlling of minds, it reminded me…" He began reading.

"Here. This is it." Fastion lifted the second scroll. He pointed to a drawing. "That's the device."

"There's two pieces there." Mara squinted at it. "But it's not like the carvings." In this image, the device was in its complete form, not taken apart at all. A second, unfamiliar square was depicted beside it. She glanced at the rubbings. There was no sign of this square anywhere.

Dakrias took the scroll from Fastion and peered at it through his spectacles. His lips moved as he read, his bushy eyebrows twitching occasionally.

"What does it say?"

"This device was created after arriving in Sacoridia, but it never worked. It was tossed away as garbage…it was supposed to take control of its victim, make him hallucinate until he was driven mad."

"Only one victim?" Mara murmured.

"If that is what it was supposed to do, and it failed, what did it really do?"

Dakrias read further. "Hmmm…nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yes. The victim was apparently unaffected. They couldn't figure out what was wrong with it, so they tossed it aside."

"What about the different parts?"

"There was the…oh dear, that really is a strange word. There was the device, as you know, then the…err…I'm not sure what that word means, but it says that this square piece was meant to control the power of the device – turn it on and off, so to speak."

Fastion turned to the carvings. "It's not depicted here."

"Then how did they stop it?" Mara wondered. Fastion knelt and touched a rubbing. On it, numerous dead bodies littered the ground around the device.

"They fought to get to it, tore it into two pieces, and separated them."

Mara shook her head. "I don't understand how we could have forgotten about this. How did this get lost to history?"

Dakrias smiled at her. "The D'Yer wall is falling to pieces. Why can't we fix it?"

She stared at him, then sunk down onto the chair, her head bowed.

"We have been negligent," Fastion said, standing. "And now we are paying for it."

Dakrias let the scrolls roll up. "I will look to see if there is anything more than can help us." He disappeared back into the archives.

Mara glanced at Fastion. He was rereading the first scroll that told about the Black Shields. Something glinted in his eyes.

"A price must be paid…" he murmured, "A price for our leniency…."

Mara grew cold. "Fastion…the king won't hold you accountable for what the Black Shields have done." She hoped.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. "The king has no say in it," he responded simply. "This is a matter to be settled among us." His fingers lingered on the page before he allowed it to roll back up. "Weakness must be punished."

Mara gaped at him. He smiled – he actually smiled at her and said, "I will assist Dakrias Brown," then walked back into the archives.