Damek Keep

By

Sandra Barret

Synopsis

Taryn, magical Healer-Adept at Damek Keep, fights against mutated creatures that are attacking the local villagers. After the arrival of a half-breed slave woman, Taryn has to balance her attraction to the stranger with her distrust of the woman's immense telepathic powers, powers capable of creating the creatures Taryn has been hunting. When a traitor betrays Taryn's family to an outside invader, the two women must learn to trust each other to escape the fall of Damek Keep.

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Chapter 1

Taryn, shinaran Healer-Adept and interim ruler of Damek province, sat astride her horse, staring into the dark shadows of the Velek Forest. "Do you think it’s a wolf-pack from the Black Mountains?"

"Possibly," said Damon, pulling his horse back onto the path. "We should have brought a small contingent of guards with us to hunt them down."

Taryn sighed and wrapped her black cloak tighter. She turned to her pax-man. "Where to next?"

Damon scanned the rolling hills around them that served as grazing land for Damek paint horses, one of their main sources of trade with neighboring provinces. "Keep on the path, I suppose."

 The gray sky and sporadic drizzle dampened clothing and spirits as they rode in silence. They passed another dead animal, but found no further evidence of what killed it. Taryn considered giving up and returning to Atheron when she sensed something strange. She closed her eyes and reached out with trained shinaran senses. Prejudice against her caste kept her from openly displaying her abilities outside her own family and staff. Few in Damek, or all of Altemand, had forgotten the depravations of Sesanth, the last shinaran ruler in Damek more than a century before. His was not the sort of legacy she wished to inherit.

"A moment, my Lady," said Damon, interrupting her mental search. He pointed to another kill to their left, this one fresh. Taryn grimaced, but said nothing.

They rode up the small rise to where the dead foal lay and dismounted. The scent of decay was absent, but a brief respite in the rain meant flying insects had already settled in on the bleeding carcass. The insects buzzed around, harassing and biting as Taryn and Damon approached the dead horse. They walked around it, carefully checking for anything that might suggest what had killed it.

The tricolor yearling lay with its thick winter coat matted and muddy against the high wet grass. Damon stopped, checking for bites or claw marks on the blood streaked body. Taryn searched in a wider circle for tracks in the grass and the outer reaches of the nearby forest. She came across fresh tracks not made by horse or wolves. She walked back to get Damon's opinion.

"Look, my Lady," he said as she approached. "There are claw marks raking the hind quarters and more along the head and withers. There are no deep wounds along the neck or anywhere except here." He pointed with his boot to an open hole torn through the chest cavity.

White, broken ribs jutted out through horse flesh and torn muscle. Taryn turned away from the sight, feeling the bile rise in her stomach.

 "Sorry, but there’s more," he said. "The heart is gone."

Taryn held up a shaking hand, her face ashen. "Enough. Now we know we're not hunting wolves. I found some tracks, but I don't recognize them."

She led Damon to the tracks.

He bent down, measuring the length of the claws and the gap between sets of prints. "I've never seen tracks like this before. The creature was heavy, but not overly large. It must depend on speed and these front claws to attack its prey," he said. "But I don’t know how it kept the horse down while it clawed out the heart."

A piercing screech interrupted them. Taryn staggered as a fierce mental assault battered her internal barriers. Damon fell to the ground, clutching his head in agony. He was not protected from the attack as she was by her mental barriers. Taryn recovered quickly and retrieved their frightened horses. She handed Damon the reins to his horse, and then she mounted and galloped ahead, searching for the source of the brief but fierce assault. Damon recovered and caught up with her. They rode, spraying brown clots of mud behind them from the racing horses. The rains began pelting down as Taryn sensed their prey escaping. Raindrops stung her eyes, but she urged her horse faster.

As they crested the top of the rise, Taryn saw a mud-caked creature, patches of dull gray hide showing through the dirt and grime. As they watched, it tore through another animal, ripping out its heart and eating it whole. Taryn spurred her horse on, followed by Damon.  The creature turned toward them, letting out another wail and mental attack. Taryn was prepared this time and blocked the attack, protecting them both from the onslaught. She and Damon rode across the grasslands, cutting the muddy creature off from the protection of the woods. It howled again, but its powers were no match for a trained shinaran. She protected human and horses from the mental attack.

Taryn and Damon drew their swords as they neared the creature. Thick, grey fog lay across the grassy slope between them and the beast, occluding their view. Taryn reached out mentally, trying to sense its abilities. She could see it clearly in her mind, a mutated cross between a wolf and something almost ape-like. The creature screeched once more and ran straight for her, causing her horse to bolt in the opposite direction. She fought to regain control of her frightened mount, clutching reins and willing her own legs to unclench. She turned her horse in time to see Damon racing after the creature as it ran for the forest.  He threw his dagger after the escaping beast as it reached the wood's edge where his horse could not follow. Taryn trotted toward him as he dismounted and entered the heavy growth that signalled the start of the Velek Forest.

She dismounted and joined Damon a few paces into the woods, her sword clenched in gloved hands. "Be careful. This thing has powers I’ve never felt outside my own caste."

Damon’s brown eyes widened. He and Taryn followed the tracks of the creature into the bushes. Thorns and branches tugged at their cloaks as they tried to continue the hunt, but the effort was futile. The creature had escaped into the dark, tangled depths of the forest. Damon saw his tossed dagger on the forest floor. When he moved to retrieve it, Taryn stopped him.

"Look," she said, pointing at the blade.

The bed of leaves on which the metal blade rested smoked and burned. Black blood from the creature still clung to the blade. Damon’s aim had been sure but not enough to stop the creature.  He bent for a closer look, lifting the dagger by its unsoiled handle. Wiping the blade on a tree trunk, he left a burnt trail on the tree’s bark. He continued to wipe the blade clean on leaves until it glinted, free of the black blood. Taryn bent to study the burnt leaves and bark. Taking off a black glove, she ran her hand just above the burn marks on the tree, probing the aftereffects of the creature's blood.

"Any ideas, my Lady?" asked Damon.

"No," she said. "I've never heard of a creature that carries the powers of my caste or any creature that bleeds a black acid that burns. At least none outside of myths and old crone’s tales."

"And those of myth?" he asked.

Taryn looked up at him. Rain dripped off his grayed hair, and she wondered if her apprehension was as ill concealed as his. Curiosity battled with fear as she examined the burn marks again.

"And those of myth," she replied as she stood, "are best not talked of, alone in the woods with a beast that bleeds a burning death."

The shadows lay long across their path by the time Damon and Taryn reined in at Stillwater. The quiet town was little more than a crossroads between two trade routes, with rows of gray buildings lining the main east-west road they traveled. A broad, stone building with a black, shingled roof stood beyond the other buildings.

"Is that the inn down there?" Taryn asked, pointing to the stone building.

"No, the inn is just above the tavern."

She turned to look at the dusty, wood structure to their right. In the limited light of dusk, she couldn’t see through the grimy windows. The wooden walkway outside the inn appeared recently swept, the only clean spot in view.

 "It’s not much," said Damon.

"Better than wet ground."

He took their horses around to the barn while Taryn walked to the front of the tavern to ask for rooms. The uninviting outside doors were painted dull black with a red border. A peeling sign, hanging from rusty chains, swung above it. The picture of water dripping from a pail represented the tavern's obvious name, The Leaky Bucket.

Taryn pushed through the front doors. Her eyes adjusted to the dark room as the smell of damp wood and mildew assailed her. Perhaps the wet ground would be better after all. A lone figure, drying a row of pewter mugs, stood behind the bar.

"Excuse me," said Taryn, "We’re looking for two rooms for the night."

The bleary-eyed man looked her up and down over his shoulder. Taryn's plain, wet clothing had nothing to signify her rank.

"That’ll be ten decats for the night," said the man, turning back to his row of mugs. "Twelve if you want food."

Taryn pulled out twelve coins. "It’s very quiet in here this evening."

The innkeeper scooped up the money and poured her a cup of wine. "They’re all at the meeting house for the witch-boy’s trial."

Taryn stiffened. "Witch-boy?"

"Not something you need worry about, Miss. Local business."

She sipped her wine. It tasted weak. "What’s this boy done?"

The man spat behind the bar. "Been a lot of dead livestock. Folks think this witch-boy’s been up to it."

Taryn slammed her cup on the table. "You’re blaming a boy for predator attacks on your animals?"

The innkeeper shrugged. "Not me. I stay out of these things."

"Where is this meeting hall?" she asked.

"It's down the road. Big, stone barn. You can’t miss it."

Taryn took one more gulp of the weak wine. Slamming the goblet on the table, she turned and stomped out of the tavern.

The innkeeper called after her, "Best stay out of it, Miss. The cleric’s up there already, taking care of business."

Taryn collided with Damon on her way out of the tavern.

"Lady, what is it?"

"I intend to find out, Damon. Follow me, please."

Taryn’s long stride took them down the isolated road past two more run down buildings. They crossed the muddy road in front of the stone meeting house where horses grazed freely within the fenced yard surrounding the building, and two carts were stationed along the side fence. They walked along the stone pathway to the white, double doors of the building. Voices drifted out from the poorly shuttered windows.

They entered the hall. Candles and a few torches battled against the looming shadows. Two columns of benches split the wide room, leading up to a central platform. Cowering in the middle of the platform was a small boy in dirty clothes. A dozen townsfolk sat in the benches.

Stunned silence greeted her arrival as Taryn strode to the front. She focused on the hooded figure standing at the head of the crowd. This person wore the brilliant blue robe of a cleric. Something about the way the robes clung to the cleric, revealing an obviously female body, pulled at Taryn's memory.

She stepped in front of the cleric. "Are you responsible for this hearing?"

The cleric lowered her hood.

Taryn recognized the long, auburn hair and sensuous full lips. "Vasali."

Vasali’s lips curved as her eyes slid up and down Taryn's body. "I’m afraid I’m not as familiar with you as I would like to be," said Vasali.

Damon planted himself beside Taryn. "This is the Lady Taryn of Damek."

A murmur ran through the crowd behind Taryn, but she chose to ignore it.

Vasali gave her a slow bow. "Lady, my apologies. It has been a long time since I’ve been to Atheron, but I am flattered you found something in me to remember."

Taryn felt her face flush. Manipulative is what she remembered, emotionally and sexually manipulative.

"The boy, Vasali. What is he being charged with?" asked Taryn.

"The good people of Stillwater feel someone has cursed them," Vasali replied as she guided Taryn to the platform. The floorboards creaked under Taryn’s muddy boots as she approached the small, timid boy.

Vasali leaned in to whisper in Taryn's ear, sending an unwelcome warmth through her. "They wish him dead, Lady, but I don’t know why they hate him so."

Taryn pulled herself away from Vasali’s presence. She knelt before the filthy boy. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine. "What’s your name, child?"

The boy said nothing. He looked to Vasali.

"He is mute, Lady."

As Damon joined them on the platform, the boy's eyes widened. He crawled behind the cleric.

Damon looked to Taryn for direction.

"Maybe you should stay by the benches. He doesn’t seem to like burly, military men."

Damon smirked but walked back off the platform.

Someone from the benches shouted, "He’s cursed us!"

Taryn turned to the crowd. It was then that she noticed a round woman standing by the side of the crowd, clutching two small children to her hips. Hers seemed the only sympathetic face in the group.

"Who is that one?" she asked Vasali.

"It is the woman who raised the boy."

"Raised? Not his mother then?"

Vasali’s hands stroked the boy’s dirty hair. "No, he’s an orphan. She took him in to help with chores when her husband died."

Taryn approached the boy again. He cringed behind Vasali. Something about the boy must frighten the townsfolk. Taryn took a gamble, reaching out mentally to the child. I won’t hurt you.

Please don’t let them burn me!

Taryn reached out a hand. They won’t. The big man is my pax-man. He protects me.

The boy came out from behind Vasali and placed a grimy hand in Taryn’s. They both stood.

"What’s the formal charge against this boy?" she asked, turning to the crowd.

An ox of a man stood in the front, glaring at her over Damon’s shoulder. Damon’s hand rested on his sword hilt.

"He killed my stallion, my prize stud."

Taryn sneered. "This child? Look at him. He’d be lucky to catch an old house cat."

The man spat. "He’s a witch. We've seen him. The boy should hang or burn."

The crowd grumbled their agreement as the boy’s foster mother whimpered in the corner.

The boy cowered behind her as Taryn focused on the ringleader. "You mean the boy is shinaran." Her voice was steady, but held the icy tone of her authority.

The man nodded, "We don’t like their kind. Bring trouble and who knows what else."

Taryn had enough. "The boy comes with me. Your troubles are ended."

Two more angry villagers stood up as if to bar her way. Damon drew his sword.

With two or three backers at his side, the first man became bold, even against Damon’s sword. "You're not taking him, Lady. In this town, we deal with our own as we see fit."

Taryn held her anger in check. "I rule in Damek and no town here will be lynching an innocent shinaran child."

She focused her mind, building energy. She illuminated the air around her so that it glowed like a shimmering green halo with her and the boy in the center. The child looked up at her in awe. The town folk gasped. There was no doubt now that Taryn was also shinaran and fully trained.

The rest of the crowd backed down, but the fat, angry man planted himself in her way, standing in front of Damon with his burly fists curled. "Witch," he sneered.

Taryn’s temper let loose. She formed a fireball in her fist and threw it at his feet, singeing the floorboards.

The man's face went pale. His eyes held hers for an instant, transmitting his hatred, and then he backed out of the hall with everyone else.

Taryn let her energy filter away. Damon stomped out the small fire, and then stood away from her, avoiding eye contact. She'd pay for her little temper tantrum, but could not bring herself to regret her display of power. Just how long had they been bullying the small boy because of his differences. She looked down at the boy, who still watched her in awe, and saw a reflection of the loneliness and isolation she'd felt as the only shinaran child in Damek Keep as she grew up.

 "Impressive show, Lady," whispered Vasali.

"And why didn’t you realize the boy was shinaran?" asked Taryn, her anger barely in check.

Vasali’s eyelashes fluttered. "Clerics do not emphasize their shinaran origins." She shrugged. "Those who seek our guidance prefer to remain ignorant of where our skills come from."

Protecting your own hides, more likely, thought Taryn as she urged the boy to walk with her. "We’ll take him back with us, Damon."

"Yes, my Lady." Damon sheathed his sword.

"I can take him on to Atheron tonight, if you wish," offered Vasali.

"With no moonlight to guide you? No, I think we stay at the inn for tonight and leave at first light," said Taryn. She felt the tiredness which always followed such a display of power.

"As you wish, Lady," said Vasali with a bow. "May I join you tomorrow? I should like to get reacquainted." She gave Taryn a liquid smile.

Taryn disliked the attention Vasali was showing her and the instinctual way her body reacted. "Fine," she grumbled, leading the way out of the meeting hall.

Outside, the horses and carts were gone, as well as most of the people, all but the heavy-set woman, the boy’s foster mother.

"Lady," she bowed, avoiding Taryn's eyes. "Jed, he’s a good boy."

Taryn looked down at the boy. What is your real name?

Ashon

"His name is Ashon," said Taryn. She lay a hand on the woman’s arm. "He will be safe in Atheron, I swear it. He can be trained there or in one of the shinaran schools nearby."

The woman sniffed, wiping her nose on a grimy sleeve. "Thank you." She seemed to want to say more, but bowed and disappeared into the growing dark with her children.

Taryn held the boy's hand and walked back to face the indifferent innkeeper.

The wind skittered old leaves through the darkened courtyard as Taryn left the stables of Damek Keep. Damon followed close behind her. The sound of their riding boots echoed on the flagstones that led to the main hall of the vast stone edifice. It had been a long, slow ride back from Stillwater with Vasali and Ashon in tow. They rode the last length in near darkness as the gray day led to an unseasonably chilly dusk. Vasali stopped with the boy at the Clerics Hall in Atheron.

Taryn tugged at her cloak as drops of rain beat down on them. Damon kept pace with her. Together they entered the main building through the kitchen entrance, startling the chef and her assistants.

"Oh, Lady Taryn, you honor us. We have some bread and meat we can warm for you from the evening meal," said the chef, her round cheeks crimson as she hustled her assistants to action.

"And a large bottle of wine," added Taryn, her quick stride taking her past the stunned chef and out of the kitchen to the main hall. Damon followed behind her, and she heard him murmur a quick thank you to the kitchen staff. Taryn flinched at her own lack of manners.

The main hall, built centuries before as the meeting place for the many regions of Damek, was an immense two-story room with polished grey stone floor and blackened oak beam ceiling. A wide staircase led from the hall to a corridor of private rooms above. Lower hallways led back to the Records rooms, library, and council chamber. The rest of the Keep had spread over the years from this one central building.

Taryn circled around past the main front doors. She tried to ignore the walls above her, from which paraded portrait after portrait of the past rulers of Damek. She felt them glaring down at her with ancient authority. Central to them all, over the large hearth, hung the portrait of Brion, the last great ruler, her father.

She slowed her pace as she neared the warm fire burning in the central hearth, discarded her cloak on one chair and dropped herself into the next one. Damon stood quietly nearby as Taryn stared at the portrait of her father above the hearth. Brion's black hair and dark eyes matched her own. The artist had taken liberties with her father's large size and black, wavy hair to highlight some of the reasons he'd gotten the nickname, the Bear of Damek.

"Damon, if you don’t sit down, I swear I’ll have you physically belted to a chair."

Taryn’s gaze never left her father’s portrait. Damon removed his cloak and settled into the chair opposite her. He leaned forward to warm his hands by the fire. He coughed, seeking Taryn’s attention. She turned away from the portrait, her nerves still brittle from their discovery and the townsfolk of Stillwater.

"Yes?"

"The beast, my Lady. You haven’t spoken of it since Stillwater. What did you, what could you sense from it?" he asked.

It must have cost him greatly, she thought, to ask so directly about her shinaran gifts. Most of her staff ignored her differences. Taryn and her mother were the only shinaran living in the Keep, though there were others in nearby Atheron.

"Please forgive my sour disposition," she began. "The last two days have left me rattled."

 The sound of muffled footsteps coming down the staircase interrupted them. Taryn turned to see her mother descend toward the main hall, accompanied by Adele, the old Record's Keeper for Damek. Lady Celina pulled back her graying hair at the nape of her neck as she walked down the stairs.

"The draft in this hall is awful, Taryn. Why do you always sit in here?" asked Celina as she tightened her soft blue robe around her plump frame as she sat across from Taryn on the deep green cushioned couch.

Taryn smiled to Adele as she settled on a bench by the fire.  

 "I am sorry to interrupt," said Celina. "What beast is this? Have you found what’s killing our horses?"

 Damon nodded, "We found something, Lady Celina, but we're not sure what it was."

"We didn’t get a close look at the creature before it fled," said Taryn, "but its mental image and unusual abilities matched legends I’ve read at Vescant."

She took a deep breath as she prepared to voice what had been bothering her for the past day. "I think it’s demon-bred."

Stunned silence settled around her. Taryn made a mental note of which books she wanted to get from her old mentor, Thedric at Vescant. Two or three dealt with the origin myths of Altemand and delved into mythic and demonic creatures. She wanted to check Adele’s records as well. The Keep’s library had extensive volumes on the history of the province, and the old record-keeper knew where the relevant records were kept.

Celina broke the silence. "This doesn’t make sense. Demons don’t exist, not in Damek, not anywhere."

Taryn turned to her mother. "How do we know that? I mean how can we be sure? Our written records only go back a few hundred years. Anything before that was written down centuries after the events, mingling with myths."

"Yes," said Celina, "but that doesn’t mean what came before the written word is demonic."

"The origin myths of Altemand suggest it’s possible. All our legends talk of demons and magical creatures. Good against Evil."

Damon added, "Like the story of The Chesian Sea protecting Altemand from the demons of Nemanir beyond the waves. That legend’s been around for generations."

"Stories to frighten children," said Celina, waving her hand dismissively.

"I wouldn't dismiss her ideas so easily," said Adele, peering over her wire-frame spectacles. "There's quite a lot in the old records that match what your daughter's been saying."

 "Well, what makes you think this thing was a demon?" asked Celina. "Maybe it was some deformed animal."

Taryn considered just linking telepathically with her mother, but discarded the notion, for Damon and Adele's sake.

"Its major weapon against its prey is an incapacitating mental scream that momentarily cripples its victim. I wasn’t quick enough to block Damon from the first attack."

Taryn saw the color fade from Damon’s cheeks as he nodded in silent agreement.

"And it sensed me as well, Mother. When I blocked its mental attack the second time, it attacked me physically, though Damon was closest to it."

"Hmm," said Celina after a moment. "Even so, demons don’t just walk off the pages of a storybook. Next you’ll be telling me you met a band of Altaran in the woods."

Taryn saw Damon’s look of confusion and explained, "It’s an old children’s tale about tiny slate-black people and their magical powers. They went from town to town like a traveling circus, amazing children with their bag of tricks. Some people think shinaran are the lost orphans of these people." She turned back to her mother. "Anyway, this demon was real. No other animal has ever had shinaran mental powers."

"Could someone have been controlling it? Some shinaran handling the mental attack while the beast ran at you?" asked Adele.

"It’s possible, but I sensed no one else in that area. It would have to be someone very powerful or physically very close. After our experience in Stillwater, I doubt there are many shinaran in that area."

"And the blood," added Damon. "The creature bled a black blood like liquid fire, burning tree and leaves."

Celina sank back into her cushions. "Did you kill it then?" she asked.

 "No. It escaped into the Velek Forest." Taryn sighed and stretched her stiff legs. "I'll need to consult my books on this demon-spawn or whatever it is. I can have some of the old volumes sent down from Vescant." Somehow the thought of her old shinaran school cheered her sour mood. Studying old texts would not replace her dream of being a Master Healer, but it might give her an excuse to exercise her shinaran skills.

The room grew quiet as the kitchen staff came in with bread, meats and a bottle of red wine. Taryn poured herself a full glass and drank in small sips as she nibbled on the bread.

 "Well to add to that, we have had some news since you left yesterday. News of your brother," said Celina.

Taryn sat up, "What? Where is he? Is he coming back?" she asked, the words tripping over each other to get out all at once.

"Settle down. No, the news isn’t good. We have word he’s been seen in Tramoran."

Taryn stood up, pacing. "How sure are you of these reports, Mother?"

"You can probe the messenger yourself if you like."

She considered it a moment, but shook off the offer. Her mother’s skills were adequate to read the details of another’s memory, if offered willingly.

"Is he prisoner to Fasal?" she asked.

Adele answered, "No. As far as we can tell, he traveled there freely, though not openly."

"Fasal would love to capture or kill all of us," Celina added, her eyes flashing in anger.

Old Adele lifted her be-speckled gaze to Taryn. "Are you sure Alek is still alive?"

The attention of the others tugged at the edges of Taryn’s mental barriers. "My brother lives," she said softly. Taryn had the rare shinaran gift of sensing when a loved one died. She knew her brother lived, just as she knew the moment that her father had died in the avalanche that entombed him in a frozen grave five years ago. She knew Damon still felt the pain of that moment, when he had to watch helpless as Brion was swept away before him. The old pax-man never forgave himself for Brion's death.

 "Your pardon, my Lady, but will you send for Lord Alek?" asked Damon.

Taryn stared at him. "Alek deserted this house. He left family and province over two years ago for who knows what reason. He left me." She looked away, remembering the day her brother's councilors asked her to take up his position. She'd had support of just over half the councilors, excluding Farrell from the forest Border Guards, Damon at the time, and even her foster-brother, Phelin, who held to the belief that Alek would return. Phelin's objections hurt most of all. The three of them had grown up together after Phelin's parents died. He even protected her from Alek's boisterous pranks, when her brother would lose her in the tunnels under the Keep. Phelin would always return for her.

But, like all else, her shinaran differences had alienated even her foster-brother. He adamantly objected to her appointment based on those differences. Now he avoided her entirely, keeping only to his formal duties as Commander of Damek's Guards.

"Alek is no traitor. That I’m sure of," said Damon.

"I agree," said Celina, standing up to guide Taryn back to her chair.

Taryn bristled. "He left here secretly, with no guidance, left all his responsibilities. Now I hear he is in Tramoran. What am I to believe, Mother? That Alek means well. That Alek only seeks the enemy of Damek because it’s in all our best interests?"

Her own angry words echoed in her mind but she wouldn’t take them back. He walked out on them all and destroyed her dreams as well as his own. Now she ruled out of a sense of duty, in a land that tolerated her differences only because she was Brion’s daughter.

Celina stood next to her, resting her hands on Taryn’s tense shoulders.  "Alek is still my son. He’s brash and irresponsible at times, much like your father was at that age."

"Then why?" asked Taryn. "Why is he in Tramoran? Lord Fasal would want nothing more than to use Alek to bring down Damek, maybe add it the rest of his illegal province holdings."

Celina sighed, "I’ve had no visions, child. I can only be glad that Alek was seen alive, wherever he is. And hope he finds his way back to us."

Taryn stared into the fire. If only he came back. She could return to Vescant Hall and continue her shinaran studies. There at least she knew she had the skills, might even become a Master Healer some day. And others wouldn't threaten to roast her for being shinaran. No one outright rejected her leadership, but there were more than a few landowners that bristled under her rule. Sometimes she thought Phelin had been right in rejecting her in council.

 Taryn linked telepathically with her mother. Why wasn't Phelin considered for ruling Damek?

Your father had different plans for him, uniquely matched to Phelin’s abilities.

"What about the cleric who befriended Alek before he left?" asked Celina.

Damon shrugged, "Phelin has spoken with her frequently but hasn’t uncovered anything."

Celina paused a moment. "Where is she now?"

"She rode back with us from Stillwater. She’s with her order in Atheron," Damon answered.

"Bring her to me then, Damon. I want to hear more of what this cleric discussed with my son."

 Taryn grinned as Damon bowed to leave. Her mother may no longer be wife to lord of a province, but she remained a formidable power unto herself. Taryn did not envy the cleric’s position.

What do you think she can tell you? she asked.

Who knows? She was Alek’s constant companion after his wife died. He must have told her something. Maybe she’s learned more in her travels abroad.

Taryn toyed with her emerald ring as the room quieted. It had been a present from her father before she first left for Vescant Hall when she turned sixteen. She remembered when he gave her the emerald, his black scruffy beard scratching her cheek as he bent to greet her. Phelin had convinced her to have a ring made for the stone, as a remembrance of her father after he died.

She brought her thoughts back to the present. "There’s more that happened in Stillwater, Mother. We got there just as they were about to burn a young shinaran boy for cursing their livestock."

"What?" Celina’s face paled.

Taryn’s voice thickened with anger. "Yes. He’s mute and an orphan, with no way to defend himself."

"How did you stop them? You did stop them?" Celina looked to Taryn for assurance.

"Yes. He’s in Atheron now with Vasali." Taryn looked away. "As for how I stopped it, well let’s just say not in the most astute manner."

Celina frowned. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. Just let them know what a fully trained shinaran is capable of."

"Taryn."

"They would have killed him, Mother. For no other reason than that he’s untrained and likely caused a few accidents because of his abilities."

Celina sighed. "News of that escapade will spread. You need to be more careful, especially in your position. Stories of Sesanth’s atrocities haven’t been completely forgotten and you can't afford to be compared to him."

Adele spoke up, "Her words are harsh, Taryn, but they will be repeated by others when news of this spreads. Like it or not, the last shinaran head of this province was an abomination." Adele smiled at her. "I’m not comparing you to the depravations of Sesanth, child, but others will. You, all of us, must be prepared for the difficulties your caste presents."

"There are problems with being shinaran in any political position," said Celina. "There are still many here and abroad who think we aren’t fit for any position that gives us authority over others."

Taryn slumped back in her chair. She concentrated on the ornate ceiling above her, as Adele's words sank in. The ceiling showed a legendary battle between the mythic Scarav, clawed man-beast, and some hero of Altemand riding the famed Damek paint horse, holding a brilliant gold torch as if it were a sword. Taryn knew her actions were rash and dangerous. But she would do it again to save a child.

"How much do you know of him, Sesanth that is?" she asked.

Adele adjusted her glasses. "I know he burned through entire villages in his attempt to make shinaran the ruling caste in all of Damek."

"Do you think he was evil or just deranged?" asked Taryn.

Celina relaxed in her chair. "I don’t know, a little of both I suppose. Persecution of our caste has a long bloody history. It’s possible Sesanth was driven to act out against it."

"His actions set up years of persecution against shinaran across all provinces of Altemand," Adele countered.

Taryn sat quiet for a time. Something about Sesanth bothered her deeply, personally. Maybe it was because she was the first shinaran ruler in Damek since his time. She felt haunted by his legacy.

Changing the topic, she asked, "So you’ll be drilling Vasali tonight?"

"Yes, once Damon returns," said Celina.

"I’ll leave you to it," said Taryn as she stood. "I need to wash this trail mud off. Please ask the staff to deliver some of these leftovers to my private quarters."

Taryn bid them good night and left the main hall. She trudged upstairs to gather clean clothes for her bath.

Steam rose from the waters of the basement bath as Taryn soaked. A series of natural hot springs beneath the Keep were channeled into individual tubs that were carved out of the bedrock. This re-engineering of the hot springs also left a labyrinth of tunnels under the Keep and outlying areas, prime targets for exploration when she was younger.

She submerged herself, rinsing the last of the sweet soap out of her hair. Her private views of her brother were not as harsh as she intimated earlier, but Alek in Tramoran could only lead to trouble. Fasal of Beht invaded Tramoran five years ago, and her family had been wary of a similar attack on Damek ever since.

Taryn squeezed water out of her hair and brushed it out while she lingered in the hot tub. When she finished, she lifted herself out of the steaming bath. She rushed across the cold tiles to a dry towel and her clothes. Dressing in a clean plain shift, she wrapped a thick cotton robe around her for added warmth.

Before Taryn could gather the rest of her belongings, she felt a cold tingle down the back of her neck. She raised her barriers, ready to block another mental attack as she scanned the subterranean baths around her.

A tall gray figure formed out of the mists of the hot springs. Lightening flashed in the hollows of what should have been a man’s eyes. Taryn broke out in a cold sweat as she watched the ethereal being opened its mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Her barriers melted in an instant of searing pain as visions pushed into her mind, quick, painful flashes of events jumbling together. Visions of a battle outside the Keep, guards burning from flaming arrows. A small dark woman with golden eyes leading her brother, Alek, through a snowstorm. Taryn saw her mother imprisoned, and herself and the same dark woman facing a rumbling snowy mountainside.

The final vision brought Taryn to her knees. As if she were transported to the high watchtower above the Keep, Taryn saw someone standing before her, dressed in black cloak, vest and breeches. The vision-man turned to her and she felt herself burning from the fires that raged within his empty eye sockets.

Taryn struggled to regain control of her mind. The cold tingle of power slowly faded and the gray creature dissolved into the mists of the hot spring chamber. Her physical senses returning, she felt the slick, cold tiles under her sweating palms and the sting of bruises forming on her knees from the fall. She leaned against the rough stone wall of the chamber, breathing rapidly. Concentrating on the flashes she had seen, she remembered an attack on Damek, bloody battlefields, and a dark, desperate race through a forest. Taryn remembered the cold of the snow and even the sick smell of burning flesh.

She heard only one phrase in the vision – "The dark power returns!"

Taryn felt those words sink into her, binding her to the dark visions. Did she cause all those events as Sesanth’s heir? She strained to see the face in her last vision, the man in the tower. Was it really a man? Could it have been her, overtaken by darkness? She was tall as any man and with her long hair hidden, might even pass as a man.

She stood, steadying herself against the wall as she settled her frantic thoughts. She knew a revenant, an ethereal remnant of some person long dead, had delivered the vision. Ethereals came only to clerics, drawn to the unique shinaran abilities centered on that holy order. Taryn’s abilities were tested in full at Vescant when she was sixteen. She had no cleric skills, nor the abilities of Seers, who could call up visions from past and future.  The experience left her confused and unsettled.  Why had a revenant visited her, and to whom had it been drawn, if not her?

Taryn looked around the bath chamber one last time, willing her pulse to calm and her breathing to steady. She gathered her belongings to walk back to her private quarters. She desperately needed sleep, but the incessant pounding in her head from the mental assault deprived her of that sweet release. More importantly, she needed to send a message to her colleagues in Vescant, colleagues who might help her understand the storm clouds forming over her and Damek.

Taryn walked past the main hall just as Damon reentered, followed closely by the elegant figure Vasali. The woman remained hooded. Though her blue robes suggested a higher calling, Vasali’s body movements bespoke an earthly purpose as she glided forward. To his honor, Damon seemed unaffected by the beautiful woman who stopped only a hand span away from him as he presented her to Celina. Taryn envied Damon’s dispassionate stance, as she felt her own eyes drawn to the curvaceous body to which the blue robes clung most irreverently.

Removing her cowl, Vasali bowed deeply, her auburn hair reflecting the candlelight, and murmured her greeting to Celina. Sycophant, thought Taryn, wishing she could see her mother’s face from her vantage point in the corridor.

"Thank you for bearing with an old woman’s whims, mistress Vasali," said Celina.

The smell of incense drifted to Taryn’s position in the hallway. Vasali must have been in trance when Damon called on her.

The cleric bowed again, "You do me great honor, Lady. How may this humble soul be of service to you?"

 "You were in close company with my son before he left, weren’t you?"  

"Yes Lady, we talked at length. Your son sought to understand the mysteries and powers which control us all."

"Indeed. And tell me, was there a focus to these talks?"

"A focus, Lady?" Vasali’s blank face revealed nothing.

"Yes, a focus. Was there any particular mysteries my son showed interest in?"

Vasali smiled, "I am sorry, but I can not reveal the private discussions between cleric and seeker."

Celina ignored the response, "Do you know what my son seeks these past years?"

Vasali chuckled "Perhaps the young man seeks a new wife?"

Celina paused for a time. "Where did you visit last?"

The cleric’s smile faded some, "I traveled much, Lady. I go where my guidance is needed."

"And where were you needed before you came here, mistress Vasali?" she asked.

Taryn noted the cleric’s discomfort.

"We can not discuss our confidences with any besides those to whom it relates."

Taryn leaned forward as her mother continued.

"I didn't ask what your teachings were, I asked from whence you came. A simple question, mistress Vasali, and one that demands a simple answer. Or perhaps you would prefer if Damon invited Madam Ulrica from Atheron. I’m sure she wouldn’t let a late summons to the Keep affect the delicate nature of her work. You are familiar with our Interrogator, yes?"

Vasali’s eyes gleamed cold. "Yes, Lady."

"And a forced mental probe across the barriers of another shinaran, that can be quite painful I hear."

Vasali flinched as Damon backed toward the door. Taryn could see the woman’s agitation grow. "I came across the Trescion Pass," Vasali mumbled.

 Taryn’s breath quickened. Vasali had come from Tramoran. She leaned closer, the smooth plaster archway pressed against her cheek as she listened.

"Excellent. Now I feel we are communicating, don’t you? And my son, Vasali. Why do you think he’s in Tramoran."

The look of shock on Vasali’s face seemed real. "I do not know, Lady."

Celina sat up. "You don’t?"

"I know he searches for a woman who plagued his dreams. I don’t know where that search has taken him."

"Thank you, mistress Vasali. Help yourself to some bread in the kitchens as you leave. The chef has been quite productive today."

Taryn saw her mother wave a lazy hand at the cleric and Damon took that as his signal to guide Vasali to the door. Vasali’s information was tantalizing, but small. The vision of Alek and a small dark woman floated in Taryn's mind.  She shook off the memory. She had too much else to search out this night. She would start in the library first, before heading on up to her own quarters. She wanted to write to her old mentor at Vescant.

Alek of Damek leaned against the trunk of a silver oak, his body partly hidden from the events he watched in the distance. The auction had started on a makeshift stage assembled inside a corral, near the main bazaar of the dry Tramoran town. A small crowd kicked up layers of dust as they jockeyed for positions near the stage, while waves of heat rose from the trampled earth around them. Southern Tramoran was much more arid than the cooler mountain regions of Alek's home in Damek. Even the air, tinged with scents of dried fennel and spark weed, smelled foreign to him.

He shifted to get a better view, as the groups were brought up to the stage for display. The first two for auction were an older, fair-haired woman, and a stout boy, just entering manhood. Alek grimaced as the two, mother and son, were subject to humiliating pokes and prods from interested buyers. The actions of buyer and slave traders reminded him of horse auctions at home. The treatment of horse and human seemed no different here.

His eyes grew wide as he heard the mother wail miserably. He felt a sickening wave of nausea as he realized mother and son were being purchased by separate buyers. Callous traders pulled the woman off the auction block and whipped the boy repeatedly when he tried to follow her. Alek turned away from the sight.

He heard the crowd mutter approval and turned back to see seven young men and women paraded before the crowd. Most wore the loose-fit yellow garb of the northern nomadic tribes of Berat. Alek had been told that rival tribes often sold their captured enemies to Lord Fasal's slave traders. The traders brought them south, far away from their own tribe and any hope of escape or rescue. Occasionally, the slave traders captured people of their own, but never from the north, as the tribes of Berat would seek bloody retribution if any outsider stole their people.

Alek ignored the first few young males sold from the batch. His interest lay with a small, dark female, second to last on the stage. Her reddish hair contrasted the wavy brown hair of the other six slaves in her group. She may have come from the north like the rest, thought Alek, but she was obviously mixed-blood. Alek He wondered if she had been sold by her own tribe to remove the taint of sin from her unclean mix. The Berati thought of themselves as pure, the only true believers in the land. All else were impure, nihe'n.

The mixed-blood woman stepped up on the block. Alek edged closer to the clearingorral, watching a potential buyer from the crowd examine her. She stood unflinching as the man lifted her arms and examined hair and teeth. Only one of the buyers showed any interest in the slight woman. Alek, too far away, could not hear buyer and seller haggle over price, but soon the deal was set and the young woman sold.

Alek slipped away beyond the stagecorral, down a dusty path that wound through small, dry brush and dark green scrub oak. He walked, to a thin, clear stream that ran by the edge of the bazaar and beyond the town. He untied his large gray mare that stood in the shade of a taller oak and led it to the stream to drink. He stooped by the stream, using his large, callused hands to splash cool water on his bearded face. He heard the sounds of an approaching horse and stood, wiping his face dry on the sleeve of his coarse brown tunic.

The buyer and the small, dark slave woman joined him at the stream. The woman's hands were bound. A rope attached her to the buyer's chestnut horse, forcing her to walk quickly to keep pace. Alek eyed the buyer as the shorter man dismounted and brought horse and slave to the stream.

"She came cheaper than I thought," said the buyer, as he handed Alek the reins of the horse and the attached slave woman.

"Whatever remains of the money you may keep, you've done well," said Alek. The buyer silently nodded and walked back up the dusty trail toward the bazaar.

Alek stood awkwardly with the slave woman. With her head bowed, she did not come up to the top of his leather vest. He scratched at the rough growth of his black beard, still uncomfortable with it after so long, but such was the style of the men of the east and Alek wished to blend in.

He approached the slave woman and she took a step backward. Alek felt at once that his large frame did not work in his favor to win this woman's trust. He stopped a moment to think. He needed to get away from this town quickly, but traveling with an uncooperative companion would bring unwelcome attention.

"Do you understand anything I say?" he asked. The slave woman raised her head to stare at him blankly through gold-specked eyes. He was taken aback by her startling eyes, a color and shape he had never seen before. Definitely a mixed blood, he thought, but with whom? Alek knew little of the dialects of Berati and he guessed the slave woman knew nothing of his own language.

"Alek," he said, pointing at himself. Still she stared. "Alek," he repeated. She said nothing.

For once, Alek wished he had inherited some of his sister's shinaran mind-reading skills, but he matched his father in that, purely human in abilities. Sighing, he turned back to his horse, untied his water bag, and handed it to her. She grabbed it up and drank greedily. He took out some bread from his saddlebag and approached the woman again. She eyed him warily, but did not shy away. He put the bread on the chestnut horse's saddle and gestured for her to mount. She nodded agreement, as wisps of coppery hair partly coveredslipped over her brown, grimy face. She shrugged him off when he offered to help her in the saddle. She put one sandaled foot in the stirrup, grabbed hold of the pommel and bread with her hands still tied, and deftly hoisted herself up, obviously an experienced rider. Alek sighed with relief. It would make their journey easier, knowing she could handle a horse.

The silent woman sat on her horse, eating the dry bread and watching him.

"Give me your hands." he said. The woman looked at him with curiosity, but did nothing. He motioned for her hands, and she lowered them. He untied the end of the rope attaching her to the horse, but he did not unbind her hands. They had not established enough trust for that. He walked back to his horse, loopedtied the rope from the other horse to his saddle horn, and mounted.

Finally the woman spoke. "Sarai," she said in a soft, lilting voice.

Alek smiled. "Sarai," he repeated. He led horse and bound woman down the streambed and past the weathered town gates without incident.

#

The two riders journeyed west and north for several days, heading always toward the mountains. Alek avoided townships along the way, not trusting his guise would hold under close scrutiny. He had learned little from his Berati companion, though he felt some of what she said in her own language was not a kindness. She seemed common enough in manner and attitude that Alek worried he may not have the right woman. Her looks matched the woman that had plagued his dreams two years ago, and Seers Alek consulted in his travels clearly directed him to the township where he found her. Nevertheless, he worried. She seemed incapable of remembering even the smallest phrases in his language and had no wish to understand him or be understood herself. He wondered if she was simple, but she watched and studied the landscape as they traveled. On occasion he felt her study him as well.

They were in the eastern foothills of the Black Mountains when Alek decided it was time the woman shed her Berati garb and dress more like a woman of Damek. They would attract less attention this close to the border and her desert clothes would be useless in the cold mountains, going over the Trescion Pass.

Alek tried to explain what he wanted her to do. He took out the woman's travel clothes he stored in the saddlebags on her horse. She seemed to understand, but held up her still-bound hands and shrugged. Alek directed her to put on the trousers and riding boots first, then turned away to give her a measure of privacy.

She said something and he turned back to see she had completed that task. Then he bound her feet and untied her hands. He turned again and let her complete the wardrobe change. When he looked back, he was amused by the transformation. The trousers were loose fitting and the blouse and over-tunic hung from her slight frame. Still, she seemed less foreign to him now, dressed as any Damek riding woman.

"You look almost pretty now," he said with a laugh.

"Nihe'n," she replied with a grimace.

Alek looked up the path as they traveled along , the Trescion Pass. He hated this stretch of the path, not the least because of the treacherous nature of the climb. He'd traveled this route before, searching for his father's remains. The pain of that memory lingered with him as he led the way with Sarai in tow. They each wore heavy woolen cloaks to keep out the cold winds blowing about the top of the pass. Loose rock and dirt marked the narrow path between mountain and steep cliff edge. The trail was barely wide enough for a single horse. They were high up in the pass, beyond the tree line, with strong winds blowing them against the face of the gray-black mountain.

Alek looked back at the desert woman. She seemed less affected by the cold than he did, riding with her head bowed as if asleep in the saddle. He could do little for her. They had to continue, get over the pass before nightfall. He had no wish to be caught in the higher reaches of the mountain when nightfall came, and temperatures dropped below freezing.

He could just see the top of the pass when he heard voices coming toward them from that direction. He froze for a moment. There was no place to hide from whoever approached. He gripped the hilt of his sword and looked back at the slave woman. Her eyes were alert. She must have heard the voices as well. He turned a corner of the trail and caught sight of the newcomers, four swarthy men, heavily armed and walking. Their beards and attire marked them as Tramoran, likely raiders who experienced a stroke of bad luck. They had no horses.

Alek could see them appraising him and the woman, and then staring at the two horses. He reined in his horse. This would not go well.

"Good day to you, sir. Think this cloudy weather will hold out much longer?" asked the nearest man, his hand casually on the hilt of his sword as he approached Alek.

"Well enough, I should hope," said Alek, who remained alert. He assessed them carefully. The first man, obviously the leader, and one other had sheathed swords, one man had a large battleaxe held across hairy arms, and the last, watching Alek suspiciously from the back, had only a belt of daggers.

Alek's considerable size and training meant he could probably handle an attack by two, possibly even three, depending on what Sarai did if a fight ensued. If all four attacked at once, he had little hope.

"Couple of fine steeds you have there," said the leader.

Alek saw the man discreetly signal the others to circle around him. Before he could react, Sarai jumped off her horse and fled down the path, back toward Tramoran. The leader drew his sword, ordering one man after Sarai, while he and the axe bearer pressed their attack against Alek.

Alek had little time to worry about Sarai as he parried attacks from sword and axe. If had his trained Damek stallion, he could have trampled one man already, but the gray mare was ill trained for battle. It bucked and reared, hampering Alek's defense. The attackers pressed him and his horse against the mountainside, avoiding the precarious cliff edge. He continued his defensive blocks, looking for some sign of the third bandit. He caught sight of the man cutting his way through the rope that bound Sarai's chestnut horse to his own mare. He could do nothing to stop the theft. The swordsman proved of limited skill, but the man with the battleaxe fought well and the combination of the two began taking a toll on Alek's defenses.

He parried a blow from the axe but the swordsman used the opening to slice a cut across Alek's thigh. He howled in pain and anger. The third bandit mounted the chestnut horse and maneuvered past Alek and the other two, working his way back up the mountain pass toward Damek. The axe bearer turned, cursing his double-crossing companion for deserting them. The horse thief pulled two daggers from his belt and threw them deftexpertly at the exposed chest of the axe-bearing bandit.

Alek used the distraction of the axe bearer's death to press his attack on the remaining swordsman. While he bore down on the man, he heard a howl coming from behind him on the path and he remembered Sarai and the other swordsman. Grimly, he made quick work of the remaining attacker, cutting down on him with such force and anger that he nearly severed the man's head from his shoulders with one final stroke. Alek steadied himself in the saddle, his breath rasping in his ears. Blood trickled from his wounded leg but the shock of the battle kept the pain at bay. He had to find Sarai and the remaining bandit.

#

Taryn sat quietly in the soft padded chair by the main hHall fire, sipping mulled red wine. She, barely listeneding to her mother prattle on about aunts and cousins, who married whom, what was a good match, and what, in her mother's esteemed opinion, was a match doomed to failure or the creation of horrid offspring the family would live to regret. Taryn's gaze tracked the dance of soft yellow light and dark shadow along the polished floor.

"Taryn. Taryn are you listening to me?" asked Celina as she looked up from the multicolored beadwork on her lap.

"Yes? Sorry Mmother. What is it?"

"I asked what you thought of that nice young man from Westeron, dear. The Chieftain'lordling'ss son who came courting yesterday? Oh, I can'not remember what family he is from. They have so many over there," said Celina.

Taryn sighed. "The Stalt family, Mother, and he isn't courting. He brought official news from Sebran."

"Yes, yes. But a handsome young man, don't you agree?" asked Celina.

"Ever the matchmaker, eh Mother?" Taryn responded jokingly.

"Well, you're hardly trying on your own, now are you," said Celina, exasperation evident in her tone.

Taryn sipped more wine, avoiding the old argument. Deep down, Taryn did want to find someone to share her life with. There had never been a real spark with any of her mother's approved candidates and there never would be. Taryn was not destined to carry on the family line, a fact recognized by everyone except her mother.

"Any news of Damon, Mother? His hunting party has been gone longer than I expected."

"No, dear. I haven't heard anything yet. Maybe there was no beast to find? Not every hen's death is cause for panic."

Taryn fingered the rim of her wine glass.

"Have you heard back from any of your colleagues?" asked Celina.

"Yes. Morel from up north sent copies of a manuscript he discovered in the old libraries. It is concerned primarily with mythical beasts. The language is very old and his translations are sketchy at best."

"Perhaps your old tutor could translate it. I recall he translated many old texts before he retired, and…"

Taryn heard her mother's voice fadeA thundering noise in Taryn's ears blocked out her mother's voice, as her own vision clouded. She shook her head to clear the odd fuzzy sensation. She tried to call out to her mother, but no sounds came from her as her mind slipped into a gray void.

With a twist of vertigo, TarynShe felt as if she were suddenly on a mountain slope, cold wind blowing as she ran down a rocky path. Her mind filled with thoughts and feelings not her ownforeign thoughts. It felt like the first time Taryn had linked with her shinaran tutor.Someone else's thoughts swirled around inside her mind, but this was far more intense. Her physical sensations were being overridden by someone else's mind.

SheShe looked down in the confused double-world. She saw her hands were bound, and she heard the grunts of someone following her. She turned to see a bearded man, dressed in patched clothes, running after her with a drawn sword. Her pulse raced as she considered her options. Someone else'strange thoughts went through her panicked mind, the confusing images blocking her attempts to concentrate.

The armed man nearly upon her, Tarynshe turned to face him. Sweat beaded up on her brow even in the cold. She crouched down in a defensive stance and concentrated on her attacker, thinking to send a quick mental jolt to distract him. Her body tensed as unknown, immense power welled up inside her, out of control, and lashed out at the attacker. The man howled in pain, staggering to her left. Shocked, she watched him stumble over the path edge, down a steep rocky slope. Her double-self looked on in confusion.

As the dual panic subsided within her mind, Taryn felt the other mind slowly withdraw from hers. became disentangled from the intermingling of minds. Her pulse slowed, her breathing calmed, and she pulled herself away from the foreign mind as her vision clouded again.

#

Alek turned his horse back arounddown the path and trotted down the path in search of Sarai and the final bandit. He stopped and dismounted when he saw Sarai appear from a bend in the steep path. She showed no injuries, no real sign of a battle of any kind. "What happened? Where is the other bandit?" asked Alek, still carrying his bloody sword.

Sarai looked at him, her eyes wide, pupils dilated. She pointed toward the cliff edge. Alek walked carefully to the rocks and boulders piled close to the edge of the path and peered over. It was not a sheer drop off the edge of the path but the steep black slope combined with jagged edged boulders all but guaranteed death. Alek scanned the slope until he caught sight of a crumpled figure far below. The figure did not move.

Alek wiped a dirty sleeve across his face and looked back at the small woman. She sat with her head in her hands, perhaps shocked by the events. He could not guess how such a slight figure managed to trick a good-sized, armed man to such a death. He felt torn between gratitude for her unknown skills and unease that he knew little of what she might be capable of. If she could dispatch the bandit with ease, what kept her from finding a way to slice his throat while he slept?

Now that the fourth bandit had stolen the chestnut mare, they had no choice but to spend the night on the cold mountain pass. They could not get down to the lower elevations in Damek before nightfall. Looking toward the sky, he realized the darkness was not just the approaching dusk. Storm clouds were blowing in, and he could feel the temperature dropping.

"We need to find shelter before this storm hits." Alek had gotten in the habit of speaking even though he knew Sarai seemed to understand little or nothing of what he said.

With only one horse, he let Sarai ride first. He retrieved a cloth from the remaining saddlebags, wiped his sword clean and sheathed it. Sarai pointed to the bleeding cut on his leg, mumbling something unintelligible.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he replied. Still, he used a bit of water and the cloth to clean the wound. Water would not be as scarce once they made it to Damek. Looking up at the clouds again, Alek realized water in some form or other may be more than plentiful soon. He cursed the loss of the other saddlebags with the second horse. He had spare blankets and food in that set.

Alek wrapped a cloth bandage around his wound. The leg felt stiff, but hecould put his weight on it. They would be tired, cold and hungry long before they reached any help on the other side. Alek sighed, took the reins of the gray mare and headed up the last stretch of the path to the summittop. At least they would be walking downhill soon.

#

"Taryn? What is it, child?" asked Celina.

Taryn felt the cold stone floor on her cheek. She opened her eyes and realized she lay sprawled on the floor of the main hHall. Her mother shook her shoulders.

"I'm alright," said Taryn as she tried to sit up. Her head still felt fuzzy. Pain centered on her right hip and elbow, bruises forming where she fell to the floor. Small brown and yellow beads lay scattered by her from her mother's discarded beadwork.

Celina helped her back into her chair. A look of worry creased her brow. "Are you sick?"

Taryn concentrated, grasping at the remnants of what she just experienced. "I'm not sure what just happened," she said. "I felt as if I were on a mountain somewhere, under attack."

"A vvision?" asked Celina.

"No, It felt more like a shared link with another shinaran, but much more intense. I was there. Well, sort of. I felt the cold wind and the gravel under my boots. Ropes cut into my wrists. I think I even bled from it."

Taryn rubbed her wrists as she spoke, almost surprised to see no trace of rope burn. Her head throbbed. She remembered the surge of power she felt and the horrible effects her mental probe had on the attacker. "The power I controlled, Mother, the intensity. It seemed a storm cloud that nearly swept me away. I think I killed a man."

"Share what you saw with me," said Celina, reaching out her hand. Taryn held her mother's hand. Physical contact, while not required, enhanced their abilities to join telepathically. Taryn replayed her experience in her mind, ending with the final blast of power that sent her attacker to his death. She felt her mother break contact abruptly.

"Gods, Taryn. That power. It can't be. It should not be." said Celina.

Taryn hugged herself, for a time feeling isolated from her mother by what she had experienced. She sensed her mother's cool gray eyes judging her.

"Can we really kill like that?" asked Taryn, confusion mingling with fear. Her mother did not answer right away, but instead sat plucking up discarded beads from the chair and pillows. Finally, her mother spoke.

"I don't know. Our skills are many and varied. I can only say I have never heard of such power."

"I only meant to distract him, I didn't seek to kill," said Taryn.

"You talk as if this was real, but it can't be. You can't be in two places at once, and even if you were, that kind of power just doesn't exist. Your head's been in old books for weeks. Maybe your mind created a waking dream."

Taryn knew her mother was making excuses, wanting to deny the possibilities. She wished she could do the same, but she knew what she felt and saw. She knew she destroyed a man's mind tonight, and the realization left her cold and shaking.

The large oak double doors to the main hall opened, letting in a burst of cold, damp air. Taryn and Celina turned to see Damon come in from the dark, shouting orders to clear the area before the fireplace. Others followed him in, carrying a wounded guardsman on a makeshift gurney. Taryn moved chairs, and Celina left to fetch blankets as the others lay the injured guardsman on the thick embroidered rug before the fire. Taryn looked down on the ashen face of the guardsman, who moaned and thrashed about. He smelled of dank earth mingled with sweat.

"What are his injuries?" asked Celina when she returned with a pile of woolen blankets and clean cloths.

"The beast we hunted clawed him, raked along his shoulder here," said Damon, pointing to a bloodstained cloth that covered the wound. "His cuts are not so deep, but he shakes and sweats from a fever."

Taryn knelt beside the injured man, putting a hand over his brow and pulling the cloth gently from his wounded shoulder. A putrid smell rose from the festering cuts, making her gasp and turn aside. The wounded guardsman groaned and trembled, but didn't open his eyes.

"What attacked him? Was it the same creature we saw near the forest?" asked Taryn as her mother handed her a clean cloth and a pot of heated water brought in from the kitchens. She dabbed gently at the wound, but each touch brought renewed pain to the injured guardsman.

"No," said Damon. "This one walked in the shape of a man, but with claws and teeth like a wolf."

Taryn handed the soiled cloth back to her mother. With one hand still to the man's brow, she placed her other over his injury, closed her eyes and probed the wound mentally. She could sense the physical cuts, three slices across the man's shoulder, no longer even bleeding.

Taryn's probe brought forth an internal view of the cuts as yellow discolorations across the normally faint green mental view of muscle and flesh. She probed deeper, following the edges of the cuts and down into the connecting life channels. There, beyond the boundary of the original wound, she sensed a deep yellow poison spreading through the life channels. She concentrated further, building a wall around the poison, keeping it from spreading to the rest of the body. She formed a line of hot white energy and traced it along the original claw marks and out into the poisoned channels, burning out the poison and cauterizing the wound. She opened her eyes, checking the guardsman one last time to be sure the fever had ended, and then rose. She leaned heavily on her mother as she stood.

"He should be moved to a bed for the night. The poison is gone," said Taryn, her voice edged with exhaustion. "Did you kill the beast?"

"Yes, my Lady. It took four volleys of arrows from both archers, but we did kill it. Young Sef here caught the last thrash of the beast as we approached to finish it off."

"Damon, I want to talk to you in my quarters. At first light, you and I ride to find this beast's remains," said Taryn.

Two guardsmen lifted the gurney holding the sleeping form of their injured comrade. The left, carrying him back to the guardhouse.

"Mother, if you would join us please," said Taryn as she walked to the staircase.

Together, they walked up the rust carpeted stairs to the second landing. Taryn led the way down the dimly lit corridor, past the guest rooms and her mother's quarters on the left to Taryn's private quarters at the end of the hallway. She let them both into her rooms and shut the door quietly behind them. Celina lit the oil lamps while Damon tended the fireplace. He added another log to the hot embers to take the chill off the room. Flickers of yellow light cast off the dark shadows.

"Damon, I want you to look through one of these books," said Taryn as she settled at her cluttered desk. "See if you can find a sketch that matches the demon beast you saw today."

From amongst the piles of rough parchments and heavy leather bound books, she took out one old, worn tome and presented it to Damon. He sat on a chair by the desk and opened the book as Taryn lit another lamp beside him.

"Which book is that?" asked Celina, sitting on a cushioned bench by the fireplace.

"Something I found in the back shelves of the library the other day. It's titled ‘Ancient Beasts and Curses'," said Taryn as she took a seat by her mother. Sleep threatened to overwhelm her from the effort of healing the guardsman.

"It sounds fanciful, dear. Do you really hope to find clues of these beasts in old fairytales?" asked Celina.

"I have no other sources that match what we've seen," said Taryn. "Damon, can you tell me more about the attack?"

Damon continued to scan the book as he spoke.

"The five of us went to Habourn. I spoke with the town headman, Jedtak, and he took us to the outlying farm where that family had been slaughtered, husband, wife, and three boys."

Taryn gazed into the fire as Damon continued.

"We tracked the beast to its lair in the wood beyond the town. It had the remains of, of someone in its claws when we found it."

Taryn heard her mother's quick intake of breath, but she only nodded, urging Damon to continue.

"The two archers are what saved us. The thing was tall as any man, wore ragged remnants of clothing even. But the face was a mask of rage – fangs red with fresh blood and eyes gleaming in the dark, like a cat. Two volleys of arrows brought it down before the rest of us got near with swords. Poor Sef got too close, and the beast knocked him flat with one swipe of its claws before we killed it."

"Did Sef get the fever right away?"

"No. He helped us bury the beast, even road part way home before we realized his wound was worse than we thought."

"Slow acting poison, attacking through the blood," said Taryn, mostly to herself.

Silence settled in the room as Damon scanned the book in his lap. Altemand had a rich mythology of demons, going so far as to name and categorize them by physical and mental characteristics. The fairytales told to children were only the more benign legends.

"There," said Damon, pointing to a page in the book. "This is what we killed today." He carried the open book to Taryn and Celina and showed them a rough sketch.

Taryn looked closely at the yellowed page. She examined the faded sketch of a large manlike beast with sharp protruding fangs.

"The sketch has no clawed hands, but otherwise, the beast is the same," he said.

She took the book back to the well-lit desk to read aloud the description under the sketch.

"Cerrol Demon: Raised from the darkness. Walks the land as a man, feeding on the living. The bite of the Cerrol means slow agonizing death. The Cerrol must be purified by the flame or it rises again."

She paused as she studied the sketch. The artist drew the Cerrol with particular detail on the facial deformities, including vertical slits for the cat-like eyes. The cautionary note on how to kill the beast worried her.

"You're sure it was dead?" she asked, leaving the book on her desk and returning to the bench.

"Dead and buried, so no animal will feed on its poisoned flesh."

Taryn felt her mother shift nervously on the bench beside her.

"You both don't believe this myth, do you?" asked Celina. "Taryn, what of Morel's manuscript you were reading the other day? Can this be the work of some twisted shinaran?"

Taryn's pulse quickened. The Morel manuscript described some of the more horrendous actions by Sesanth more than a century earlier. She didn't realize her mother knew she'd read that text. "I don't see how Morel's work is relevant."

"Don't be obtuse, dear. You've read what the worst of our caste can do. What were they capable of?"

"Well, Interrogators have been the worst. A Master Interrogator can force a mental link and warp someone's mind, drive them mad."

"Hmm. What else have you learned?" asked Celina.

Taryn considered Sesanth. "A skilled animal empath can manipulate herds, wolf packs."

"That doesn't help much." Celina sat quietly for a moment, then turned back to her. "How do you heal?"

"What?" Taryn's face flushed.

"How do you heal, child? It's not a talent I share," said Celina.

Taryn watched the dance of light and shadow across the far stone wall as she tried to explain what came naturally. "It's like sensing what is wrong, inside a body. I can see, well, colors of what is normal and what is not. Small manipulations can shift the internal workings to clear out poisons or advance the natural healing process," she said slowly.

"You manipulate flesh and blood to heal," said Celina. "What if you did the opposite? What if you manipulated it to warp and distort the natural form?"

Taryn shivered at what her mother suggested. She saw Damon's look of fear distort his lined face.

"We don't know it can be done like that, Damon," said Taryn.

"But my Lady, if someone is creating these beasts, these demon spawn," said Damon.

Taryn cut him short before his fear of shinarans overcame his common sense. "We will discover that tomorrow, old friend," she said. "If someone is creating these demons, we will see the mark of it on the dead beast's flesh. Even shinaran healings leave a scar."

"And," Celina added, "If it is a shinaran warping these beasts, can we stop calling them demons?"

Damon sat quietly flexing and un-flexing his sword hand. Taryn sympathized with his need for action. "We can do little more tonight. In the morning, we'll find the beast you killed today."

"Yes, my Lady," said Damon as he and Celina rose to leave.

Taryn bid them both good night.

#

Mists formed with every breath as Taryn and Damon saddled their horses in the scant early light of dawn. She stroked the neck of her black and white gelding as she checked her tack one last time before mounting. The sky remained a dim purple with gray wisps of cloud as the two rode out of the Keep. They rode past the fortified oak and iron gates that were the only opening in the high stone wall surrounding the Keep and its grounds. Taking the East Road out of Atheron, they ride toward the garrison town where Damon and his party buried the Cerrol demon.

Taryn rubbed her eyes with the back of a gloved hand. She had not slept well, dreams of snow and demons plagued her. Her mother's ideas about a Healer distorting creatures bothered her deeply.

With the early spring sun at its highest overhead, Taryn and Damon approached the outlying borders of Habourn. Damon led the way, searching for familiar landmarks in the wooded area. Taryn inhaled deeply of the smell of pine and wood as she followed. The grasslands near home had so few trees.

"We tracked the beast in this area," said Damon as he slowed his horse and looked from side to side. The gradual slope of the land, dotted with pines and an occasional tidy whitewashed cottage, formed the base of the Black Mountains.

"There," he said at last, "We felled the beast by those trees."

Taryn followed him to a cluster of tall green pines, dismounting with a muffled drop onto a bed of old brown pine needles. Startled bluebirds flew off as she and Damon approached the trees. All else remained quiet save the buzzing of insects. Damon seemed confused as he looked around the area, searching for the burial mound.

"Here. These are the arrows we shot at it," he said, lifting two broken arrow shafts from the trampled earth.

Taryn searched with him. The hooves of many horses had torn up the soft earth near the site. The high sun sent patterns of speckled light through the overlapping tree branches as Damon continued to pace the area, searching left and right as he walked.

"It should have been here, my Lady," he said, standing by a shallow ditch near a tall pine. Taryn walked toward him as he poked about the earth beneath the pine. Loose soil mixed with pine needles, but no sign of a dead beast remained. A few spent arrows lined the edge of the ditch. She picked up one and examined the arrowhead closely, but found no evidence of blood on it. She tossed it back to the ground.

"I don't understand. We killed it. We even buried the thing," said Damon, frustration and confusion mingling in his voice.

"The Cerrol must be purified by the flame," said Taryn, quoting the passage from the night before. Damon stood up and kicked the dirt in frustration.

"How do we hunt things that can't be killed?" he asked.

"We learn what weapon will kill it, and then we hunt again," said Taryn.

#

Vasali sat motionless in her darkened room. She sat alone but for the small spider spinning its web from the base of her dusty table to the spare wooden chair pushed against the dark wall. Vasali preferred the dark. It suited her better than the harsh rays of sunlight that battered against her closed drapes, seeking ever to disrupt the enveloping shadow.

The spider finished its web and moved to sit motionless in its center, waiting patiently to trap its prey. Vasali smiled.

An urgent tapping at the door shattered her contemplation. A glossy black boot shot out to the middle of the newly made web, snaring the small spider underneath as the boot slammed purposefully on the cold stone floor. Vasali stood.

"Enter," she said, her voice raspy for having been silent for hours with no drink to wet her lips or throat. The door opened letting in the painfully bright light of the outside world. Vasali winced.

"Master, I have news," said a man, a silhouette in the painful light. He wore odd fitting clothes. Sunlight reflected slices of light off a series of sharp knives held by a belt around the man's waist. Vasali waited.

"Lord Alek returns," said the man as he moved further inside the nearly empty room. Vasali walked slowly passed the man, shutting the door, stopping the light.

"And the girl?" she asked.

"He brings the girl, Master," he said, fidgeting nervously in the dark. "He is a day's ride at most, coming over the pass on the East Road."

Vasali stood close to the man. He smelled of horse and dirt. He smelled of fear.

"You did not change back into Damek clothes," said Vasali. She felt the man tremble.

"I had no time, Master."

"So you claim. You did not shave your beard, either" said Vasali. She drew a knife out of the man's belt. "Let me help you with your beard."

The man stood, trembling. Vasali wished she had allowed more light into her dark sanctuary. She could not see the man's eyes. The eyes told so much. Vasali brought the blade up to the man's neck. She sliced deeply from right to left.

Vasali dropped the knife and turned as the body fell gracelessly to the floor.

The vessel had been found. Her master would be happy. She removed her satchel from a hook on the wall and opened the door to the bright light. She squinted as she headed toward the stables. Someday she would not have to squint. Someday the light would be gone. Vasali smiled.

#

Taryn left Damon with their horses and supplies as she went to start a fire from the wood and kindling she'd gathered in the dark forest. She stepped outside Damon's view and concentrated to create a small globe of yellow light, which she set to glide a pace in front of her, lighting her task. Taryn piled up a few logs and some branches for kindling. Then, when she thought Damon occupied with setting out food for a light meal, she sent a small flash of white-hot light into the dry branches, igniting the fire.

"That's a bit like cheating, don't you think?" asked Damon.

Taryn turned toward him with a guilty smile.

"You needn't hide your powers, my Lady," he said as he came to sit by the fire, bringing slices of salted meat and cheese, and a large flask of red wine to share.

Taryn took a bite of the meat, grimacing at the salty flavor and rough texture. She drank a bit of wine to wash it down before speaking again.

"I know it makes you uncomfortable, my differences," she said at last.

"Differences I must get accustomed to if we are going to destroy these demon beasts. It seems no natural methods of attack will kill these abominations."

Taryn sat in stunned silence for a moment.

"Meaning what I do is unnatural?" she asked.

Her paxman would not meet her eyes as he continued, "I am your sworn man, my Lady. It is not my place to question your abilities."

"You're evading the issue. Do you see me as some unnatural thing?"

"You are shinaran."

She put down the rest of her meat, the sourness in her stomach ruining her appetite.

"Damon, I am no different from you. Yes, I have skills which you don't, but I am no more capable of using those skills to harm another than you are to use you swordsman's skill to harm an innocent person."

"But only shinaran can enter the mind of another against his will," said Damon, his voice shaky.

Taryn realized this must be a main source of his fears against her caste.

"Yes, only shinaran can share thoughts. Or take thoughts from the mind of the unwilling, as you say. But we don't run around doing this like pickpockets, stealing the thoughts of the unwary. It takes concentration and usually the willingness of the other person to share their thoughts. Only an Interrogator can force their way into another's mind. It's not a skill most shinaran have."

Damon looked at her, disbelief obvious in his lined face. Taryn closed her eyes and concentrated.

"How is your head?" she asked, her eyes still shut.

"I'm getting a bit of a headache, my Lady. Lack of sleep I suppose," he said.

Taryn opened her eyes. "It's gone now, yes?"

He gave her a surprised look. "Yes, it is. How did you know?"

"That was no headache. I caused that, sending you a mental touch."

Damon shot up, dropping the food on his lap into the dirt. Taryn stood up as well, holding her hands up.

"Damon, settle. I couldn't read your thoughts. That was just a demonstration. If a shinaran tried to steal your thoughts against your will, the pain in your head would have increased tenfold. No one can take your thoughts without you knowing it, my friend."

"What about Interrogators?" he asked.

"They can force the mental link, yes. But only under strict legal policies. And you'd still know they were doing it."

Damon squatted down, tossing the remnants of his ruined meal into the fire pit to keep from attracting scavengers in the night.

"You read nothing, my Lady?"

"Nothing. The mind has natural barriers to entry. Either you have to willingly drop those barriers to share your thoughts with me, or I would have to break them down and you would certainly know it was happening. The pain would tell you. Besides, I don't have the skill."

Damon stared at the fire. "A bit less messy than physically beating a confession out of a man, I suppose," he said.

Taryn smiled. At least he got the gist of it. "Yes, that's one way to think of it." She stood up. "Can we rest now?"

"Yes," he said, "I'll take the first watch. There may be other beasts around."

Taryn walked to the bedrolls Damon had lain out for them and crawled under a blanket. "Wake me in a few hours, and I'll take next watch." She closed her eyes and sleep overtook her quickly.

#

Celina sat in her bedchambers, combing her long gray hair when she heard a rapid knocking at her door. She grabbed her green robe and wrapped it about her before opening the door. One of her ladies stood there, breathless.

"Yes Katarine? What brings you to my door at this late hour, twitching like a frightened rabbit?"

"My Lady, the guard captain sent me. There is, someone has been killed!"

Celina gave the woman a cool stare. "Well, who, child? And where?"

Katarine fidgeted a moment, "I do not know, my Lady. The captain said only to ask that you join him in the main hall."

Celina did not like this. The captain would not come to her with this unless there was some unusual link to the Keep.

"Come inside then, help me dress," said Celina.

Dressed and having dismissed the chattering Katarine, Celina walked alone down the stairs to the main hall. She saw the captain of the guard pacing by the fire, his lean form casting long shadows across the stone floor. He stopped as she approached and bowed low.

"Your pardon, Lady Celina," he said, his voice low and deep. "But you wanted any news of the cleric."

"Yes, Captain Marcom, please go on," she said.

"The cleric is gone, and she left a man in her room. His throat was cut," said the captain.

Celina sat, stunned. Death was not uncommon, but so merciless a slaying, and from the hands of a cleric?

"Do you know where Vasali is now?" she asked.

"She is no longer in Atheron."

"Send guards along each of the main roads. I want her back here, Captain," said Celina, her face reddening with anger.

The captain bowed and left the hall in a few quick strides. Celina remained seated by the fire. She could do little more tonight.

#

The quarter moon hung white and low in the western night sky as Taryn poked at the low burning fire. She sat wrapped in her gray woolen blanket and yawned. She had slept well for her few hours, and her watch remained uneventful and silent save for the crackling of the fire and the soft snoring of her paxman. She could just make out the outline of the high mountains to the east, a portent of the coming dawn. She stood and stretched, intent on making a hot breakfast for them both. She walked to the saddlebags and rummaged about quietly, searching the food supplies.

Taryn stopped her search and looked around the woods near her. Something felt odd, out of place. She scanned the area, feeling the early stirring of the woodland creatures around them. Then she sensed it, something approaching from the direction of the road. She drew back mentally, not wanting to alert whatever it was to her presence. She walked silently to Damon to rouse him.

He woke instantly and quietly, following Taryn's signals. He grabbed his sword. He wore only shirt and breeches in the cold pre-dawn air, but had slept with his boots on all night.

They crept to a point where they had sight of the road but would not be visible to anyone approaching. Birds chirped in the trees above them, singing in the waning darkness before dawn.

Taryn felt the approaching woman before she came in sight, something about her oddly familiar. They could hear the hoof beats of one rider coming up the dark road from the west. In an instant of recognition, before horse and rider became clearly visible, Taryn ducked completely behind a tree, signaling Damon to do the same. She willed her racing heart to slow as she mentally and physically hid her presence as the cleric Vasali approached.

She waited in silence as Vasali approached. She could hear the cleric's pace slow as she neared, her horse snorting impatiently. Taryn tried to extend her net of silence to include Damon, building a barrier between them and Vasali. She heard Vasali stop by the road opposite them. She held her breath. There was not a sound in the woods or on the road for a heartbeat or two. Then Taryn heard the cleric urge her horse on again. Within moments, horse and rider were out of earshot, heading east toward the rising sun.

Taryn and Damon relaxed and returned to their campsite. Fortunately, the camp had not been visible from the road, and the wind blew in their favor. It sent the scent of their campfire up the mountain so Vasali had not caught the smell of smoke.

"Did you see the rider, my Lady?" asked Damon, confused.

"It was Vasali," said Taryn.

"Riding through the night? Odd thing for a cleric to do."

"Yes," she agreed, poking at the remnants of their fire as she contemplated this. Why would Vasali leave Atheron and ride through the night? Either something happened to drive her away from Damek or she headed toward something of importance.

Damon filled a small pot with water and set it close to the fire to boil while he rummaged breakfast food. Taryn saw him return with some leftover meat and other ingredients to make a soup.

"We should follow Vasali, see if she continues to the Trescion Pass," said Taryn. She saw Damon's forlorn look at his soup ingredients. He went back to the supplies and returned with bread and cheese, and some dried tealeaves, which he put in the steaming water.

"You think she returns to Tramoran?" asked Damon, as he split the bread and cheese for them to share.

Taryn took some cheese and ate mechanically. "I'd like to be sure what direction she's gone, if she leaves Damek." The dryness of the cheese made Taryn too eager for the tea Damon prepared. She burnt her tongue on the hot liquid. To Damon's obvious displeasure, she added some cool water to her tea. She drank again, glad for the way it warmed her inside in the cold air of early dawn.

"We break camp, and track our cleric a ways," Taryn said as she rose. "The Trescion Pass is less than half a day's ride east of here. We'll know soon enough if she returns to Lord Fasal."

Chapter 3

Alek hoisted the last saddlebag on the gray mare while Sarai doused the remnants of their campfire. They had been two days getting over the Trescion Pass, the latter part taking turns on their one remaining horse. Alek had untied her hands after the first night, when he'd awoken to find her cutting cheese for breakfast with her hands still tied.

Alek was sure they would reach the first border town soon and the start of the East Road that led to Atheron. With luck, they could purchase a second horse for the ride back to Atheron. He often wondered how the province managed after his sudden departure, but his council members were well-chosen, experienced leaders in their own rights. They would have kept Damek in order, waiting his return.

Alek gave a sidelong glance at Sarai, watching her poke the fire pit carefully, searching for any last hot embers. Fire safety must have been a necessity in the dry regions she came from. Alek wondered again if she were truly the woman Vasali sent him after, the woman who would give him the power to reach his wife. She fit the description, but he had seen no evidence she was anything but a woman of the desert. Alek shrugged off that thought. Vasali would unlock the girl's power. Alek led the horse to Sarai.

"We should be able to buy another horse today," he said, still talking to her as if she understood. They started back toward the road, heading west. She smiled down at him and he found himself returning the smile.

#

Taryn and Damon rode steadily along the East Road. There were few towns on the road this close to the mountains. So far they had encountered no other travelers and Damon's tracking skills allowed them to keep up with the cleric without being seen. Taryn dared not use her abilities to track Vasali, for fear the cleric would sense her. She found Vasali's mental presence disturbing. It felt stronger than she'd ever noticed before. The sun rode high in the sky, providing a small bit of warmth to the chilly spring day. The cleric was bound for the Trescion Pass, and Tramoran.

"Should we give up this cat and mouse game?" she asked. "We know where she's headed."

Damon turned to answer her, but then looked past her, down the road from where they came. Taryn turned as well. She saw two or three riders heading up the road toward them, riding fast. As the riders neared, Taryn recognized the livery of her own guards. Damon had as well, as he was already waving down the riders. Three riders approached and halted in front of Damon and Taryn.

The lead rider addressed himself to Damon "Sir, the Captain of the Guard, by order of the Lady Celina has sent us to retrieve the cleric Vasali, to answer for the killing of a man," he said.

"We've been following her as well," said Taryn. "She can't be more than a few hundred yards or so further up the road. I suggest we split up and surround her incase she tries to escape. One of you should continue on the road. Make sure the cleric doesn't turn back. Damon and I will go off the road and over-take her on the wooded side, while one of you does the same on the other side. And you," she said to the first guardsman who spoke, "Ride past her in the woods, and get ahead of her on the road. Make sure she does not escape to the Trescion Pass."

The guards accepted her orders, Before they left, she gave them one final warning, "Don't approach the cleric on your own. Wait for the order from me or Damon."

The guards nodded in agreement, and rode off in their assigned directions. Damon and Taryn headed into the woods.

#

Alek and Sarai rested in a green pasture by the side of the East Road. A gentle breeze stirred the bare branches above and kicked up brown leaves below as they sat together in silence. Alek tried to convey to Sarai that they would reach a garrison town before nightfall. He could not be sure, but he thought she understood. He longed for a good night's rest in a warm bed after a full hot meal. He had been traveling for so long now, camping in the woods, or bedding in a roadside travel shelter. Even the smallest of towns in Damek would have a place to welcome travelers.

Alek jumped at the sound of an approaching horse. It had been days since they last met anyone on this road and that had not gone well. Alek stood and drew his sword. Sarai stood next to him, weaponless, but wary and alert. She did not look toward the road, though. She scanned the woods around and behind them. Perhaps she heard something approaching from behind, an ambush? Alek learned in their short time together, that Sarai had acute senses. On more than one occasion she picked up sight or sound of something before he was aware of it.

Alek took his dagger from its leather sheath and handed it to Sarai by the hilt. She looked at him with her gold-flecked eyes, and took the offered weapon, examining the ornate hilt in her hand. Together they stood, weapons ready, watching the lone rider approach from the east. Sarai kept glancing back toward the woods, but nothing had emerged from there yet. As the rider came closer, Alek saw that the figure wore the distinct midnight blue robes of the cleric caste. He relaxed his stance and sheathed his sword.

"It's a cleric," he said, but Sarai watched him with bewilderment. She still held the dagger firmly, pointing toward the cleric.

"No," she said as she pointed, "Nihe'n!" She backed away from him as the rider approached and slowed down.

Alek shook his head in confusion. Maybe she thought all riders were bandits, he thought. "It's all right, it's a cleric, a holy person," he repeated, but she ignored him.

She stood crouched, tense, as she watched road and wood with equal distrust. Alek had no idea what fears sped through her strange foreign mind.

"Good day to you, Lord Alek, and well met," said the cleric as she dismounted. Alek turned from watching Sarai's strange behavior to see the cleric walk toward him, her blue cowl pushed back to reveal long auburn hair and a thin smile.

Alek sighed in relief, "Vasali, well met indeed! This is a stroke of luck."

#

Taryn and Damon made their way through the sparse woods by the side of the East Road. The trees were bare of leaves, forcing them to travel further away from the road to keep out of sight. They came up equal with the cleric on the road sooner than they expected. As Taryn watched, peering through the numerous trees that separated them from the road, she saw Vasali slow considerably and veer toward them in the woods. For a moment, Taryn thought the cleric spotted them or sensed them in the trees. Damon gestured next to her, pointing to a space to the left of where Vasali stopped. She saw another horse and at least two people standing in a clearing.

Taryn felt a strange stirring, but she dare not reach out with the cleric so close by. They tied their horses to a tree, and crept closer to the clearing from the woods. Damon's footfalls were barely audible to Taryn. In contrast, she felt her stumbling progress through thicket and branch could be heard all the way back to the garrison town. Grimacing at her own clumsiness, she sought to mimic Damon's silent tread, stepping where he stepped, and yet she still heard each twig snap beneath her feet as if it were the echo of a tree felled in the woods.

They were closer now. She could make out two figures, a man and a woman, with weapons drawn. The man had broad shoulders and short dark hair. He dressed as a peasant, but held his sword with practiced care. A mercenary? As she watched, Taryn saw the man sheath his sword as Vasali approached. Bad move, she thought, but how was he to know that a devil rode in the guise of a woman of peace. At least his companion showed more sense. The small dark woman backed away from Vasali.

Taryn inched closer. Another twig snapped underfoot. Her eyes shot up and met the stare of the dark woman, sending a jolt through Taryn and shocking her to immobility. She knew that face. Taryn dropped to the ground. Confusing images from her visions came back to her. Her heart beat rapidly against her chest as her breath came in short gasps. A mental maelstrom swirled around her. Whoever, or whatever that woman was, she held enormous power, and she knew where Taryn hid.

Damon crouched beside her, his sword drawn. Taryn fought to calm her breathing and clear her mind. She stole a glance back at the clearing to see the strange woman crouch low and draw a knife. Damon motioned that they should get closer. Taryn followed as he crept between tree and bush, until they were within earshot of Vasali and the others. Taryn avoided looking at the group, as each time she did, the woman stared back at her, and a storm rumbled within her. She could make out bits of conversation. Vasali responding to something one of them had said and then the dark haired-man spoke. Damon gave her a quick, shocked look.

That was her brother's voice.

Taryn examined the three people again. It was undeniably Alek. His scraggly beard and worn clothing were much out of character for him, but definitely the face and voice were Alek's. Damon made as if to stand, but Taryn held his arm, signaling him to stay hidden.

"But it is Lord Alek," he hissed.

"I know. But there is more to be learned if we watch and listen for a time."

"And if the cleric attacks, do we watch that as well?"

Taryn felt his frustration, but she needed to know what Vasali and Alek planned, or at least why they met here, seemingly pre-arranged.

"I think Alek can protect himself well enough from the cleric." She did not add that she felt they all had much more to fear from the strange dark woman.

Taryn could hear Alek and Vasali more clearly now.

"She is as you described, Vasali, but I don't think she is who you wanted her to be. She is quite plain. Do you really think she can help me?"

Taryn felt dismayed that her brother could not sense the strength that emanated from the woman he dismissed so easily. The raw power felt so strong to Taryn she could barely focus on anything else. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck as she fought the confusion, concentrating on her brother and Vasali.

"She seems not to like me, my Lord," said Vasali, smiling. The dark woman remained crouched, holding the dagger in a small tight fist. Vasali leaned back on an old tree, slowly pulling off her leather gloves. "Will you come here, child?" she asked, her smile offset by cold, penetrating eyes.

The musical lilt of the dark woman's voice drifted to Taryn. "Nihe'n. The stench of death follows you like the stars follow dusk."

Vasali's expression never changed as she turned to Alek. "What does she say?"

"I don't know. It is some dialect of Berati I guess. Sarai, why are you like this? She is a cleric, a woman of peace."

The other woman, Sarai, moved away from them both. Nihe'n.

Taryn heard Sarai clearly in her mind. The woman was a powerful telepath.

"You must bring her to me, my Lord, if I am to verify that she is the woman who can help you," said Vasali.

Sarai spoke again, "The mark of evil is on you. The man does not see it, but I do. And so does she." Sarai raised her dagger to point at Taryn's position in the woods.

Taryn stiffened, feeling the power of Sarai's mind focus on her again. Her head throbbed with the effort to keep her barriers intact. Vasali's smile wavered as she turned toward Taryn. Clearly, she'd understood Sarai's words as well. Taryn gave up her hiding place, signaling Damon to follow. She climbed over the tree, past evergreen bushes that hid them and walked to the clearing. She no longer cared what twigs and dried leaves crunched beneath her boots. Alek drew his sword as they approached, but lowered it, his face frozen, when he recognized Taryn and Damon.

"Taryn? Why are you here? Vasali, did you bring them with you?"

Vasali no longer smiled. She stood, looking between Taryn and Sarai. Taryn felt Sarai's presence as well, threatening to cloud her mind again. She fought to maintain control as she turned to Alek.

"We didn't come with Vasali, and our business here shouldn't be discussed in front of the cleric," said Taryn. She approached her brother. He looked different, thinner perhaps, though few would notice on his large frame. The thick black beard emphasized his resemblance to their father. She stopped a few paces from Alek and signaled Damon to stand with her. She waited for her brother to sheath his own sword. He seemed gripped by some inner uncertainty as he looked from Damon to Taryn. Finally he sheathed his weapon.

"You've been gone long, brother."

Alek shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry for that, but I don't need answer to you for my whereabouts. It's not your responsibility."

"Alas, you made it my responsibility when you left. What did you think would happen in your absence?" asked Taryn.

Alek only stared at her.

"They made me take over Damek."

Confusion washed over Alek's tanned face as he scratched absently at his beard. Taryn felt Sarai still staring at her, but she dare not turn that way, for fear of losing herself in the storm that centered on the lithe woman. Sweat still trickled down her spine from the strain of concentrating on anything but that storm. The cleric remained silent. Finally, Taryn saw anger replace confusion on Alek's face.

"Is this true, Damon. Has my little sister usurped my position so soon?"

Damon shuffled from foot to foot, looking from Alek to Taryn and back before he answered. "The council appointed her ten months ago, my Lord. Lady Taryn didn't seek that position, but accepted it when offered."

Dear Damon, politically shrewd of him to remain neutral, thought Taryn.

"No matter," said Alek, "Whatever my council has done can be undone. What's important now is that I have this," he said, pointing to the dark woman as if she were his brood mare.

Taryn's own temper rose to match her brother's. "This, as you say, is a person, not a golden bauble that you can own. Have your travels in far lands warped you? We don't own people here. As for your council, they are my council now. And will remain so, until I see fit to return them to you."

Alek all but growled at her. This was not the warm reunion she had dreamt of for months after he had left. She had no desire to remain ruler of Damek, now that he had returned, but his quick dismissal of her grated.

"You are out of your league, little sister," said Alek, his hand returning to the hilt of his sword.

Damon stepped a pace in front of her, hand on his own hilt in response. He had obviously resolved the legality of his own position.

"And you are well out of your own league, my brother, if you think to control this woman and her power," said Taryn, returning her brother's angry stare.

No one moved. It seemed as if the woods itself stood silent.

"Enough of this bravado," said Taryn. "I don't want your position. I never wanted it. But I have it , and I shall keep it until we return to the council to have it revoked."

She tried to smooth over injured egos on both sides. "I respected you, as my liege and lord until long after you'd left us. All I ask is that you return that respect until we can sort this out at home. Perhaps by then you can tell me more of this woman you bring with you."

She put a hand on her brother's arm, "Only one of us can rule and right now by law, that is me. But I give you my word, when we can convene the council, I will readily give it up." Taryn did not turn from Alek as she continued, "Damon, will you witness this oath?"

"Duly witnessed, Lord and Lady," said Damon.

Alek smiled at her for the first time since she shown herself. He let his hand fall from the hilt of his sword.

"It is good to see you again, Taryn." He pulled her into a bear of a hug. His rough leather vest scratched against her cheek, and tears watered her eyes by the time he let her go. She brushed them away.

"And this is Sarai," he said.

He waved to the dark woman to join them, but she didn't move.

"My lord, this is madness," Vasali hissed. "Your sister stole your province and now she seeks to take the vessel from us."

"Since you're so talkative now," said Taryn. "Maybe you want to tell us just why you killed a man in Atheron?"

"My lord," pleaded Vasali, "Can you not see what she does? I warned you she would interfere. Now she spreads lies."

Damon interrupted, "Does the dead body found in your room lie as well, its throat cut from ear to ear."

Vasali turn to Alek, but he only shrugged. "Come, Vasali. Return with us to Atheron, and we'll sort this mess out."

"This witch will not have the vessel. My master will not allow it." Vasali bowed her head. When she raised her eyes, her face was a mask of hatred, as a blood red glow formed around her. Taryn remembered too late that she was not just a holy woman, but a shinaran of unknown abilities. Vasali turned to Sarai, and the woman tensed as the energies building up by Vasali crackled the air.

It seemed as if Vasali acted in a dream, her arms lifted slowly, directing her energy as they rose. Taryn battled the confusion in her mind to extend a protective shield around Sarai. A moment before Vasali's power exploded, Taryn's vision shifted. After an instant of vertigo, she looked again through some kind of dual vision, like she experienced in the main hall the other night. She was linked to Sarai. In the dual vision, Taryn saw Vasali's attack aimed at her. She instinctively strengthened her defensive barrier. Vasali drew her arms together and attacked.

An answering surge of power flowed through Taryn and into the defensive barrier. The initial shock of Vasali's attack physically pushed her back, but it did not break through her defenses. She withstood the onslaught as the cleric's power rippled around her. Taryn watched from as Vasali's power slowly exhausted itself.

Once again, Taryn's world tilted. As her sight cleared, she stood staring at Sarai from across the clearing. Their eyes met briefly in that instant, golden eyes sinking into Taryn's mind, and then she saw the woman's knees buckle. As Taryn watched Sarai falling, her own vision faded, and then blacked out.

#

Alek felt lost from the moment his sister walked out of the woods, followed by his father's old paxman. Now he did not know what just happened. Flashes of light from Vasali, and both his sister and Sarai were on the ground. Alek did not even know which woman he should help until Damon moved from his own shocked stillness to kneel by the unconscious body of Taryn. Alek moved, taking a few quick strides to where Sarai lay by the edge of the clearing, his dagger still clutched in her hand. He knelt beside her, feeling her forehead and checking her breathing. She breathed in quick shallow intakes.

"My Lord, she's ill with some sudden fever," said Damon from across the clearing.

"So is this one, her forehead is burning up." Alek scrambled to his pack and wet a couple of cloths from his water skin. He tossed one cloth to Damon, and then returned to where Sarai lay and knelt beside her. He gently moved her head into his lap and cooled her face and neck with the wet cloth, seeing some measure of success as her breathing slowed and deepened.

"The cleric is gone," said Damon.

Alek looked around the clearing. Vasali and her horse were gone. He shook his head in confusion, not for the first time this day. Where was that cleric, now that they could use her skill with herbs and medicine for the two sick women?

"There are house guards on the road in both directions and in the woods. She can't get far," said Damon.

"What is happening here, Damon?" said Alek, "Why are you after Vasali with a contingent of guards?"

"We weren't initially after her. We were hunting some, some strange beasts. Your mother sent the guards after Vasali. We met up with them only a short time ago."

Alek felt Sarai stir in his lap and returned his attention to her. He pushed back a few loose strands of her copper hair. She opened her eyes, looking up at him through enigmatic golden eyes. He turned to tell Damon that Sarai was awake and saw that Taryn had awakened as well. He turned back to Sarai.

"How do you feel?" he asked. "Can you walk?"

Sarai rubbed her eyes. She leaned on him heavily as she sat up and then stood at his side. Damon, with the equally weak Taryn, walked over toward him, stopping a few paces away when Taryn refused to get closer. Alek shot her a frustrated look, wondering what foolishness kept her away from him now.

"Can you ride?" Alek grumbled. She nodded, but did not get any closer.

"Our horses are back in the woods," said Taryn, "But where is Vasali?"

"I don't know," said Alek, "But your guards will no doubt bring her back."

"Alek, she attacked me, right in front of you. Do you still believe she is the innocent cleric she pretends to be?" asked Taryn.

Alek turned away from her, leading Sarai to his horse. "I don't know what to believe," he muttered to himself. "People popping out of the woods, women fainting."

Alek turned back to Damon and Taryn, "Damon if you would get your horses, I for one would like to spend tonight in the nearest warm inn."

#

Vasali galloped up the road, her horse's reins held in shaking hands. She sat low and loose in the worn saddle. The witch had stopped her. She did not know how, but that witch of Damek kept her from the vessel, and in the end, stopped her from destroying it when she could not have it for her master. Burning anger kept her from collapsing, anger and fear. Her master would not be pleased. Vasali lost the vessel. She shook with fear.

Vasali sensed two riders nearby, one on the road ahead, the other shadowing her in the fields. She pulled a knife from her boot sheath, carefully avoiding the liquid dripping from the tip of the blade. She would have some satisfaction. She did not slow as she approached the rider on the road. She charged at him, holding her reins in one hand, the knife hidden in the other. The rider watched, weapon drawn. As Vasali rode, the guard's eyes grew wide. He struggled at last to back his horse off the road and avoid collision. Vasali took advantage of the man's confusion and let her dagger fly.

He collapsed to the ground beside his startled horse as she rode by, smiling.

Vasali saw the second rider come toward her from the fields, mud, and grass flying back from the pelting hooves. She slowed her pace, concentrating on the second rider. She had a use for him. Slowing to a stop, calming herself, she drew what little energy she had left from within and waited. The guardsman slowed as he approached. Vasali raised her hands over her head, weaponless, and held them there. The guardsman drew his weapon, circling Vasali from a few paces. She did not shift, did not move. She only waited. She was patient. She could destroy the vessel. She need not fear.

Through the forming red haze, Vasali saw confusion on the guardsman's face as she slowly lowered her arms until her outstretched hands were even with the guard's drawn sword. Vasali smiled.

#

Damon and Taryn joined Alek on the road, leading their horses out of the patch of evergreen trees and brush. Alek admired the sleek black and white Damek horses, fast and sure-footed. He'd been away from home too long. His thoughts returned to Sarai. He would need Vasali back to unlock Sarai's power, if she had power. His sister interrupted them before Vasali could determine if this was the right woman.

Alek stole a glance at Sarai as she sat on his gray mare. She was obviously tired, but no worse from her fainting spell. Sarai turned to him. She smiled at him, but then her eyes strayed beyond him. Alek turned to follow her stare and saw his sister mount her own horse, sliding stiffly into her black leather saddle.

"My sister spent more time studying her books than riding," he said. Sarai did not respond, only stared at his sister intently. Alek frowned. Sarai turned, looking down the road to the west. He looked as well. Though he saw nothing, he said, "Someone approaches, one of your guards perhaps?"

"My Lord," said Damon, "I hear nothing."

"You will," said Alek, smirking. As he finished, he heard the slow steady clip of a rider coming from the west. The rise and fall of the land so close to the mountains made it difficult to see any long stretch of the road. They could only wait until the rider came into view. Alek stood, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword while the other held the reins to his horse. He saw the other horse and rider come into view from around a sharp bend in the road. The unique blue and silver colors of the Damek House livery declared the loyalties of the approaching rider. He relaxed, letting go a breath he did not realized he was holding. There had been far too many surprises on this road already.

Damon trotted his horse out to meet the guardsman, and they returned to the small group together. "No sign of the cleric," said Damon, not directly addressing either Alek or his sister.

Alek thought the dual leadership problem a laughable situation, but he did not want to fight it here. He said nothing, willing to let Taryn enjoy her moment of power, however brief it would be. Soon enough they would be back to Atheron and Alek could clear up this mess.

"What's your name," said Taryn, addressing the young guardsman.

"Pedro, my Lady."

"Pedro, ride up the road and search out your comrades. Bring them back here, or bring word if they have the cleric Vasali with them."

Pedro nodded. He led his horse up the road at a trot. Before he passed from view, Alek saw him stop. Another guardsman rode toward them leading a spare, saddled horse.

The new guard paused briefly to converse with Pedro, handing him the lead for the rider-less horse. The two rode back. Alek could not miss the anger in Pedro's stance, the stiff way he sat in his saddle.

"My Lady," said Pedro, "The cleric is no longer a threat. Bran saw her kill our comrade. He cornered her by the river and made her pay for her crimes."

Alek let go of his horse and marched over to the guards. He pulled at the reins of the one called Bran. "You did what? You killed her!"

Bran looked down at Alek through dull gray eyes. No emotion registered on his bland face. "Her body floats down the Benden River," said Bran flatly.

It all felt too much for Alek. More than two years spent huddled in the rain, barely able to stand his own stench from sweat and dirt in the dry desert, moving from town to town, province to province following leads, rumors, and dead ends. Finally, to have found the woman to match his dream vision so perfectly, and now, the person who could control this woman's power is killed by his own guards. He would never know the fate of his beloved wife and baby, because Taryn interfered, just as Vasali said she would.

Alek turned to his sister, his body shaking with rage. "You will pay for this, little sister."

He grabbed the leads from Pedro for the spare horse and walked back to Sarai. She gave him a puzzled frown, but he ignored her as well, hoisted himself onto the new horse and bent to take the lead rein from Sarai's horse. Together he led them at a trot down the road toward Damek, not caring whether the rest followed him or not.

#

Taryn and her group followed Alek along the East road, keeping an easy distance behind her brother. She felt the pressure inside her lessen as she widened the space between herself and Sarai. She could focus better on the world around her, the rhythmic gait of her weary horse, the scent of damp undergrowth in the scattered clusters of trees by the road. She watched the last rays of light splash deep red and orange across the high clouds as the sun set before them. All this she could see for herself, without the dizzying effects of another mind pushing against hers.

"My Lady," said Damon, "Lord Alek and his companion have turned aside at Bessant."

Taryn snorted. "He wants a warm bed tonight. Well so shall we. Perhaps a half day's ride gave him time to cool off."

Damon smiled at her and nodded. He lead them off the main road, riding south along a narrow path between bare towering elm trees that cast faint shadows along their route in the dim remaining daylight. Taryn's spirits rose with the land as they rode up a gentle treeless hill into the small town. She caught glimpses of warm fires and the tantalizing aroma of cooked meat as her party passed by the outlying homesteads of Bessant.

A faint smiled lingered on Taryn's lips, as she and her party entered through the high stone palisade surrounding the center of Bessant. The town guards greeted the group as they lit torches atop the palisade. Wooden gates creaked and groaned as they were pushed shut behind her party, the last travelers to enter. The gates would shut out the night and anything that might approach in the darkness. Taryn spotted Alek's two horses being led to the dark stables behind a large, well-lit house. Light escaped the house from many scrubbed windows where patrons sat in large comfortable chairs, enjoying plates of steaming food. Alek chose well, she thought as she and the others dismounted in front of the inviting inn.

"Shall I stay with the guards tonight?" asked Damon.

Taryn pulled off her riding gloves. She understood his desire to relax with fighting men, like himself, rather than cater to the needs of one sore, tired young woman. "Yes, that would be fine. You'll see that they get good food and a warm place to rest?"

"Yes, my Lady," he said, smiling.

Taryn walked to the front of the building and opened the wide, whitewashed doors to the inn. She felt warm air greet her as she entered, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the brightly lit room. Townsfolk and visitor alike sat by a round stone hearth, central to the crowded room, where a well-kept fire blazed high. Two or three of the inn's staff jostled between polished wooden tables and chairs as they rushed plates of fresh bread and cooked meats to patrons.

Taryn scanned the room, but caught no sign of her brother or his companion amongst the many bodies chatting and eating. She felt a twinge of guilty relief, wanting only to eat and rest herself and delay facing her brother's icy hostility until the morning. Amongst the bustling staff, Taryn managed to note a balding man, dressed in plain brown trousers and tunic, a small white apron lost on his round figure. The man had a smile and greeting to give to each customer and turned to give her a quick wink and a nod as he made his way through his throng of customers to greet her.

In a moment he stood before her, his cheeks red from the warm fire or the effort of hustling his bulky frame around the inn. His blue eyes sparkled a welcome to match his large outthrust hand.

"Welcome Mistress, welcome! We have had many new faces this evening! Will you need a room? Are you traveling alone, a young girl like yourself?" He looked past her to the closed door.

"My guardsmen will be staying by the stables tonight," she said as she shook the offered hand. The innkeeper's eyes widened. "I need only a room for me, someplace quiet, if that is possibly, and a warm meal."

The innkeeper bowed, "Yes Mistress, of course. And some wine to warm you."

Taryn smiled, letting go his hand, "You're most kind."

The innkeeper called over one of his assistants, a lanky boy, and directed him to take 'the lady' to a certain room, and tend the fire, fetch her fresh water, and be sharp about it. Taryn suppressed a chuckle, wondering if the berated lad were the innkeeper's son. At least she would be warm and well fed soon. Tomorrow's troubles could be dealt with after a good meal and long rest.

#

At dawn the next day, Taryn left the inn, the noise of early-rising patrons silenced by the large doors closing behind her. Cold air clashed with her warm breath, forming small puffs of mist as she wrapped her black cloak about her and walked to the stables. She heard Alek and Damon chatting amicably. She entered the freshly painted stable barn, seeing most of her party, including Alek and Sarai, waiting for her. The discussion stopped as Taryn entered. Alek graced her with an indifferent glanc,e and she felt the mental confusion that signaled Sarai's presence. She avoided the woman for fear of losing her own perceptions again.

Damon led her horse to her. "We have less than a half-day's ride to Atheron, my Lady."

"That's about a half day more than my legs could wish for," she said. Damon laughed with her as they walked their horses out of the stables and mounted, followed by the others.

They rode in silence through the opened gates of Bessant and back to the East Road. This time, Alek and Sarai rode with them, following behind the two guardsmen. Taryn was grateful for whatever soothing words Damon had spoken to Alek to calm him down. They would at least appear as a united ruling family when they entered Atheron.

The small party rode for most of the morning, passing acres of green pasture and a handful of harvested fields. They entered a patch of woods, heavy with the scent of wet leaves as they neared the outskirts of Atheron. Dark, rolling rain clouds hung over the tops of the towering oaks as the road twisted through the trees. Damon stopped the party after a sharp turn in the road. A blackened tree, thick with scorched branches lay across the road, blocking their way.

"Don't they keep the roads clear in Damek anymore," scoffed Alek, but his voice held little real scorn. Proximity to the Keep must be cheering him up, Taryn thought.

She slid from her saddle to investigate the tree. "You've yet to hear what has happened in Damek lately, dear brother." As strength returned to her weary legs, Taryn paced the length of the downed tree, examining the scorch marks.

"There's a path here on the left," said Alek as he spurred his horse forward, past the stationary guardsmen. He guided his horse along the narrow path, ducking beneath low branches.

"Go on," said Taryn to the rest, "I'll follow in a moment." She watched as one by one, her group followed Alek's lead. Taryn felt the pressure in her mind build as Sarai came toward her to reach the side path. Her vision swirled. She clamped her barriers down and staggered away, distance clearing her mind. Only Damon lingered, worry creasing his brow.

"I'm fine, Damon. Go on ahead."

"You're pale and shaking. What is it? Do you sense something here?"

Taryn calmed her breathing. "I am fine, really. Just too long in the saddle lately. And I wanted to scan the tree burns, but not in front of my brother. He is angry enough already without me flaunting my abilities in front of him. Go on ahead. I'll only be a moment."

"Is he jealous that you inherited your mother's shinaran potential and he didn't?"

"Only when he's grumpy."

Damon did not move, obviously not convinced he should leave his charge.

"Damon, really. Atheron lies beyond these trees. I am quite safe. And I'm hardly the ruling party here anymore."

Damon turned his horse toward the path, giving her one last worried glance before ducking down the trail, out of sight. Taryn returned to the base of the burnt tree, finding the blackened stump from where it fell. She settled on her knees before the stump, the scent of burnt wood overpowering all else. She tugged off her riding gloves, placing them beside her. Gingerly, she lay her bare hands on the stump. It was still warm. Black dust clung to her hands as she moved along the burnt remains, probing, sensing.

Yes, there, clear evidence the tree was not the victim of stray lightning. Altering the natural order always left evidence behind, for those who could read it. She brushed the black dust from her hands. A shinaran weather-worker might be able to set a tree on fire, by why? Random accident or someone in league with Vasali?

Taryn's horse whinnied and stomped behind her. She scanned the area and sensed it as well. Wolves. She turned and studied the trees and path. Nothing moved, but she felt them, a pack of wolves, creeping around her, trying to form a ring around her. She leapt into her saddle, leaving gloves and burnt tree behind. Her horse reared and bolted down the path the others had taken.

Taryn bowed low, clinging to the panicked horse as it charged down the narrow path. She saw the wolves giving chase on either side of her. They were large, gray mountain wolves, their white fangs catching the light as they darted between trees and over low brush. She had no control over her horse as it fled from the main path, veering away from the pursuing wolves. Branches cut and scratched at her as her horse raced on.

The wolves were closing in, two on either side. She could hear one other from behind. She could not free a hand to draw her sword as her horse ran wild. She heard the pounding of hooves somewhere to her left, but she could not spare a glance to see if friend or foe approached. The wolves were upon her.

The nearest wolf, its long wet fangs exposed, leapt at her from the right. Taryn cried out as its claws raked her leg. Her horse bucked and kicked out at the wolf, nearly tossing her off. Her leg burned. She felt warm wet blood soak her breeches as a second wolf came within striking distance on her left. Taryn watched in dread as the second wolf leapt to attack. Surprisingly, it yelped in mid air and fell to the ground, missing her and her horse.

Taryn glanced behind her and saw Damon pulling another knife from his belt as he raced after her. Alek, circled in the distance, his heavy sword drawn as he blocked the attack of two other wolves. Pain laced up Taryn's leg from her wounds as she clung on in weak desperation. She felt a familiar pressure building within her but did not have the strength to fight it off.

Her world swirled and dipped. Taryn closed her eyes, but still she saw, felt a small dark hand reach out, grab hold of her reins and pull. Two horses ran in pace, one black and white, the other gray. Taryn felt as if she rode both horses, controlled both, as a soft lyrical voice floated in her mind.

Relax your legs; your clenched knees spur the horse on.

Taryn relaxed, letting go to the dual world. Two horses slowed, then stopped. The pressure in Taryn's mind eased as she gave up fighting the duality, but the pain in her leg burned with an intensity unequal to the depths of her cuts.

Poison.

Taryn did not know whether the thought came from herself or Sarai, but she knew poison raced through her system. She opened her eyes briefly, stared into intense amber eyes. She saw Sarai closely for the first time, her delicate dark features framed by coppery-red hair. She saw herself through Sarai's eyes as well, a pale scratched face, surrounded by disheveled black hair stuck with twigs and leaves, and thin pale lips. Taryn's thoughts drifted as she saw fear and worry painted across Sarai's narrow face. She felt warm, unseasonably warm for the rainy day. Taryn felt herself slip in the saddle as her world faded to black once again.

Chapter 4

Alek walked through the dusty library with Sarai following a pace behind him. Voices drifted through from the adjacent reading room as Alek opened the door. Thedric, Master Healer from Vescant, sat by the low-burning fire with Celina. Cool winter sunlight filtered across the ornate rugs that surrounded the well-padded chairs in the reading room.

"How is she?" Alek asked.

Thedric turned to him, his black deep-set eyes held an intensity that contrasted his aged features. "The poison is gone and the wounds are healing."

"She’s awake," added Celina. She invited Alek to sit beside her on the long maroon couch closest to the fire.

Alek sat while Sarai remained standing beside him, her fingers playing with the lace trim on her green skirt.

"That's good news," said Alek. "What of her legs? Will she walk again?"

"Yes," said Thedric. "Your sister will need time to re-work those muscles. A month-long fever has left her weak." He scratched the top of his balding head with a brown hand. "And who is this?" he asked, smiling at Sarai.

"This is the foreigner my son spoke about," said Celina. "She speaks in Berati, but I can link mind to mind with her."

Thedric peered at Sarai. "Shinaran then."

"I suppose, but untrained," said Celina. "I was hoping you could test her abilities. Alek seems to think she may be able to communicate with ethereals."

"Communication with spirits," Thedric mumbled. "Not my strongpoint, Celina. Have you tried the Cleric’s Order in Atheron."

"That’s what I suggested," said Alek. "Vasali came through that Order."

Celina shook her head. "No. The Order in Atheron still can’t account for why that cleric murdered a man."

Alek glared at his mother, but kept quiet. Maybe Thedric could unlock Sarai’s potential.

"You test every child sent to Vescant," said Celina. "I trust you can determine this woman’s abilities."

"Hmm. She’s older than our candidates, but let’s see what we discover, eh?"

Thedric held out his hand. "Come, child. Sit beside me here."

Alek saw Sarai hesitate. He took her small dark hand in his and guided her to a seat by Thedric. "This doesn’t hurt, right?" he asked.

"No. So long as she cooperates, it’s nothing more than a standard probe to test for potentials," Thedric explained. "Every shinaran child goes through this. Those with strong abilities are sent to appropriate schools that specialize in their skill."

Thedric smiled warmly at Sarai as he questioned Celina. "Has anyone besides you and Taryn linked with her before?"

Celina looked to Alek, then back to Thedric. "No. I didn’t realize Taryn linked with her."  

"Your daughter rambled on about some kind of dual vision when this girl was around. Did that happen to you?"

"No. Her mind feels strange, but nothing like that."

Thedric shifted to the edge of his chair. "Alright. I’ll try a light probe first, and then see where we go from there." Thedric held out his hand, inviting Sarai to link with him.

After a moment, Sarai raised her own small hand and placed it in his. Alek marveled at how dark her skin was, even compared to Thedric’s wrinkled brown hand. Minutes passed in silence. Thedric and Sarai’s eyes drifted shut while the testing continued. Alek opened his mouth to speak but his mother hushed him. He gave up watching the silent pair after a time and stared at the fire. Times like this he regretted he didn’t share the shinaran abilities of his mother and sister. For some reason it skipped him entirely. Not that being shinaran was a blessing, but at least he would understand what was going on now.

As silently as it began, the testing ended. Thedric let go of Sarai, and she leaned back in her chair, her composure quiet, thoughtful. Thedric scratched the top of his dark bald head.

"Well," said Alek, his patience waning.

Thedric looked to Celina. "I’m not sure what to say. If she is shinaran, she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met."

"Is she a cleric?" Alek interrupted.

"No." Thedric’s dark eyes studied him. "Cleric is a training, not a base potential. But she doesn’t show any affinity for ethereals, if that’s what you’re asking."

"So what did you discover?" asked Celina.

"Her telepathic skills are extremely vivid. And she shows some basic potential with the elements, wind and fire. With training she could be a skilled weather-worker. Definitely empathic as well, possibly animal and human, and that’s quite rare."

Alek looked away. She had to be a cleric. If she couldn’t communicate with the dead, why would Vasali have sent him for her?

"Her mind is very different," continued Thedric. "You said she came from Berat? We don’t have much contact with the northern tribes. If they have shinaran, they don’t send them to our schools for training."

"Then she could be a different kind of shinaran," said Celina.

"True. She should be sent to Vescant for training."

Alek stood. "No. Sarai stays here with me."

"Alek, she could be dangerous without training," said Celina. "Besides, you can’t even talk to her, what good is she around here?"

"She’ll learn the language soon enough. And Taryn can train her." Alek signaled for Sarai to join him as he made his way to the door. "I spent two years searching for this woman. She stays with me."  He led them out of the library, leaving Thedric and his mother behind.

#

Alek sat atop his black and white stallion, wearing a light tunic in the warm sun. It felt good to dress like a provincial Lord again, even if he wasn’t re-invested with that honor just yet. He shaded his eyes against the morning sun.

Alek's foster-brother, Phelin, trotted up beside Alek on an all black gelding. "Ready," he said.

"Where to?" asked Alek. Glad as he was to have his foster-brother at his side again, this excursion was Phelin’s idea.

"Down past the breeding pastures and around Atheron by the south?"

Alek urged his horse forward. "Sounds good."

They rode at a walk around the Keep’s high stone walls. Guards and Atheron merchants hustled along the inner yard as they passed by. They rode under the gatehouse that controlled the massive iron gate opening to the south, and then Phelin led them down the gentle hill that separated the Keep from Atheron. Alek looked back at the Keep as they rode. The somber stonework building backed into a steep granite outcrop from the hills behind. This provided a natural barrier to the Keep’s northern exposure, a defensive strategy from the days when Damek fought to create its current borders from the neighboring provinces.

He stood in his stirrups as they neared the breeding pastures. Only a few mares were accompanied by young foals. "Has it been a bad breeding season?" he asked, waving Phelin forward from behind him.

Phelin urged his horse to a trot to ride beside Alek. "No, it’s been a good year." His expression clouded for a moment. "We’ve been weaning the foals at 4 months now. They’re down by the west end of the Keep."

Alek frowned. "Seems young. Taryn’s idea?"

"No, mine. Your sister kept out of the herd. One of the few things she recognized as beyond her abilities."

Alek heard the sarcasm in Phelin’s voice.

"If we accelerate their training," Phelin continued, "we can break them in and sell them in their second year."

"Yes, but it weakens them, doesn’t it? Sounds like you’re compromising the quality of the horse for quicker money."

Phelin glared at Alek, his blue eyes cold, but he said nothing. He dropped back behind Alek again as they rode around the southern pastures and began their loop around Atheron. The city had not changed in the two years since Alek left. Row upon row of narrow streets remained clogged with carts and horses. Alek could just make out the stalls lining the market district with children darting between merchants and buyers. Further to the east, they passed the busy streets of the Guild Halls. The smell of wood shavings mingled with the scent of burning coal from the blacksmith forges.

Alek turned back to Phelin. "How are the tax levies?"

"Less than they should be. Taryn lowered them at the request of the Guild Hall. She felt our private herds could compensate for the lower income."

Alek reined in his horse until he rode beside Phelin. "Look, when I left, I didn’t think they’d bring in Taryn."

Phelin eyed him coldly. "What did you think, then? Or did you think at all?"

Alek smirked. "I deserved that, I suppose." He put a hand on Phelin’s arm. "But what I did, it was important, something that I had to do."

"And what of Damek’s needs?"

Alek pulled away, staring ahead. "Damek has done well enough in my absence."

They were quiet again for a time as the trail looped north of the town. A cool wind with a hint of autumn to come, brought the savory smell of grilled meat from an inn they’d passed. Alek’s stomach reminded him of the approaching noon hour.

"Is this a pleasure ride, or did you have a motive for our jaunt this morning?" he asked, weighing his hunger against Phelin’s unusual request for a ride. Phelin remained silent for a time. Alek felt the uncomfortable distance that had grown between them since his return. Some cloud hung over his foster-brother.

"A lot has happened since you left," said Phelin.

"I suppose. But I’ve been working with the landowners and tradefolk again, so things will get back to normal."

He felt Phelin’s intense gaze as his foster-brother continued. "Why haven’t you convened the council yet?"

"Taryn’s only just awoken. She has to call the council to return Damek to me."

"It should never have been hers to begin with," Phelin growled. He leaned over to Alek. "Take it back. Call in the councilors now and take Damek back."

Alek felt a wave of disgust at Phelin’s suggestion. "Why bother," he said at last. "She’s recovering now and within the week will convey the council on her own."

Phelin yanked his horse away from Alek. It snorted in protest. "You lack ambition, foster-brother."

"And you lack respect, cousin," Alek replied, reminding Phelin of his relative position in the family.

Phelin’s back stiffened as his face shifted away from Alek. "Apologies, my Lord." He slowed his mount to follow behind Alek again. Alek’s mind wrestled with his foster-brother’s words. He'd missed something important based on Phelin’s reactions, but he didn’t know what.

#

Taryn fought against her growing consciousness, fearing a return of the pain that burned through her body whenever her mind rose from her fevered sleep. Light filtered past her closed eyelids, and she tensed, waiting for her head to pound in beat with her pulse.

Nothing happened. Slowly the fog in her mind lifted and she remembered. She’d been fully awake before. Thedric had been by her side then, her old mentor and Master Healer at Vescant Hall. His dark face had seemed drained when she saw him. She rolled on her side, still not believing the pain which had racked her body was finally gone. What had Thedric said? She’d been sick for over a month? As she shifted further in her bed she felt a dull throbbing in her leg. Her eyes still firmly closed, she reached down and traced her fingers along the tender scars on her thigh.

Taryn remembered part of her talk with Thedric the day before. At least she thought it had only been a day. She had no real sense of time just yet. He told her she’d walk again. She focused on this as the throbbing in her leg subsided. She remembered the wolf attack, but not much else. Alek had been there and his companion, Sarai? She remembered that dual vision when Sarai calmed her horse after the attack.

She opened her eyes. She craved water. Looking around her bedroom she saw someone had drawn the drapes, letting in a meager light from the cloudy day. The creak of a door caught her attention. She turned to see Adele's grand-neice, Katarine, from the house staff come in. She was a short, round girl with barely managed red hair and a spattering of freckles across her rosy cheeks. Her full figure would certainly turn plump with childbirth when she married. Taryn tried to ask for water, but all that came out was a deep croak from her dry throat. Katarine’s wide-eyed stare melted into a warm smile as she padded over to the bedside.

"You’re awake?" she asked in her thick country accent.

Taryn nodded, licking her parched lips.

"It’s a cool drink you want," said Katarine as she leaned over to the bedside table and poured water into a plain pewter mug. She sat on the edge of Taryn’s bed and lifted her with one able arm as she held the mug to Taryn’s lips with the other.

Taryn gulped the water too quickly. She coughed, spraying the bed sheet with droplets.

"Slowly now," Katarine coaxed.

Taryn let the water trickle down her throat, easing the dryness. The cool wetness restored her ability to speak. "Thank you," she said as Katarine lowered her back to the pillow.

Katarine pulled the covers up around Taryn’s chin. "You gave us quite the scare," she clucked.

Taryn had to smile. The girl must be six years her junior yet she fussed like any mother hen.

"Well," said Katarine, taking a step back. "If you’re up for a visit, I’m certain you’re mother will want to see you."

Taryn nodded her assent. "And can you bring back some food?"

Katarine grinned, her crooked front teeth marring an otherwise pretty face. "An appetite! As sure a sign as any that you’re on the mend." She gave a half curtsy, and then bustled out of the room. Taryn must have drifted off as it seemed an instant later that her mother was in the room. A delicious meaty scent filled the air. Taryn turned to see a steaming bowl already on her bedside table, along with a chunk of bread.

"Is it stew?" she asked as she squirmed to see the bowl’s contents.

"No, only beef broth." Celina pulled up a chair beside the bed. She helped Taryn get into a semi-raised position using multiple pillows, then moved a flat wooden tray onto Taryn’s lap with the bread and soup bowl. Taryn lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips, trying to ignore how her hand trembled with the effort. She’d never truly been sick or injured before. If this was any indication of the recovery process, she knew she wasn’t going to like it much. As she dipped bread into the broth and ate, her mother informed her of the events in the Keep and Atheron of late.

"So," mumbled Taryn over a bite of bread, "Alek hasn’t called the council yet?"

Celina frowned. "Well he couldn’t, not legally anyway. You are the council’s selected ruler in Damek so only you can convene the council."

Taryn leaned back on her pillows, her stomach full from the light broth and bread. She wanted to sleep, but knew she couldn’t.

"So, is there any reason I shouldn’t call the council now?" She watched her mother carefully.

"You mean is there anything wrong with your brother? No. He refuses to explain why he left, but beyond that he’s been fine. Quite patient really, considering your illness and his lack of status in Damek right now."

Taryn’s eyes drifted shut a moment. For over a year, she had hoped and prayed for this day, when she could discard her duty to Damek and return to her studies. Now that it was upon her, she felt both relieved and saddened. She would miss being in the Keep. Not the politics and bureaucracy inherent in running a province, but the ability to accomplish something in spite of all that, to make a difference. Would she be happy going back to a scholarly life?

Taryn opened her eyes. It was not the time for such thoughts. "Call in the councilors, Mother. Let them witness my promise to Alek. Damek is his by right."

Celina nodded. "Good. Thedric wants to see you before he goes back to Vescant. I asked him to wait while we settled this matter first. I’ll go get him."

Celina rose and swept out of the room, her midnight blue gown creating a slight breeze in the otherwise still room. Taryn waited for Thedric, fighting the urge, the need to just sleep again. The door opened once more, and Celina led Thedric into the room. His forest green robes, symbolic of his status as Master Healer, hung from his stooped shoulders as he approached. He looked in better health today than he had when Taryn first awoke. She wondered how much effort he expended in healing her from the demon-wolf’s poison.

Thedric stood at the foot of her bed, propriety requiring that he get no closer. He clapped his gnarled hands together. "Well, well. Finally on the mend. You really were a difficult one, you know."

Taryn grinned. "That bad?"

"Oh worse, worse," teased Thedric. "But done is done and the poison’s gone. You’ll have to keep off that leg for a while."

"How long?" she asked.

"Best to take it slowly, give yourself until the winter before you come back to Vescant."

Taryn grimaced. Months of idle time?

Thedric chuckled at her obvious discomfort. "Not to worry, child. Your brother has a most interesting task to keep you busy in the meanwhile, hasn’t he, Celina?"

Taryn’s frown mimicked her mother’s. "What task is that?"

"Alek wants you to train that girl he brought back, Sarai," said Celina, her tone conveying her disapproval.

"Me?" asked Taryn, her eyes widening. "But I can barely be in her presence without getting a throbbing headache or worse." Taryn remembered the dual vision. She did not want to experience that again.

Thedric’s eyes studied her. "I tested the girl the other day. Neither your mother nor I experienced any problems with Sarai."

"I’m not making it up," said Taryn.

"I believe you," said Thedric. "I’m just not sure what to make of it."

"Then why not take her with you? Vescant is better equipped to handle her than I am."

Thedric shrugged. "Alek has different ideas. Perhaps he’ll change his mind in time, but for now he insists that she stay in the Keep."

Anger drove away Taryn’s thoughts of sleep. "That’s ridiculous. What right does he have to keep her here if she wants to go to Vescant."

Celina interrupted, "You assume she wants to leave. I don’t think she does. Why would she? Your brother keeps her in fine gowns and sets her up in the guest quarters down the hall. For a former slave, this must seem like paradise."

"Anyway," said Thedric. "The girl will do well enough under your tutelage for now, Taryn. As I said, I tested her already."

"What potentials did you find?" she asked, her scholar’s interest taking over.

"She's a very vivid telepath. I can’t tell if she can force a link through trained barriers like an Interrogator does, but I wouldn’t be surprised." Thedric’s eyes narrowed. "If you discover she can, then she must be sent to Vescant, with or without Alek’s approval. Someone with that ability has to be trained for both the base potential and the moral responsibilities that come with it."

Taryn nodded. Her mind flashed with a remnant of her Vision, a small dark woman surrounded by death, so frightening and so like Sarai. She pushed the thought away. "Anything else?"

"Empath, possibly animal and human. Some elemental abilities with wind and fire. Hard to determine much beyond that. She’s unique, I’ll say that much."

"Unique," Taryn repeated with a scowl.

"Enough of that, I want to talk to you about the wolves that attacked you." Thedric’s eyes studied her as he waited for her answer.

"Nothing unusual about them that I noticed, but then I was fleeing for my life. There might have been four or more, gray mountain wolves. Alek killed a few I think, you should ask him."

"I already have. What I don’t understand is the reaction you had to the claw marks. The poison in your body nearly won out, you know."

Taryn paled. She hadn’t really thought about how sick she had been. "We’ve had other problems with poisonous creatures."

"Such as?"

Taryn looked to her mother again, then back to Thedric. "We’ve tracked a few. One escaped into the Velek Forest but not before revealing a thick black blood that burned like acid."

Thedric scratched his head. "Anything else?"

"Our guards killed another. A beast in the shape of a man, but when I went to retrieve the body, it was gone."

"Grave robbers?"

"I don’t think so. The characteristics matched that of a Cerrol demon." Taryn watched Thedric’s expression for signs of disbelief. He stroked the stubble on his chin for a moment.

"How sure are you of this?" he asked.

"I know the first creature had some shinaran abilities. It used a mental attack on me. As for the Cerrol demon, I didn’t see it myself, except the empty grave." Taryn expected Thedric to dismiss her ideas as far fetched.

"Yours haven’t been the first sightings," he said at last.

Taryn heard her mother’s muffled gasp. "What do you think it is?"

"I don’t know, child. We’ve contacted the other Halls, but only two have replied." Thedric smiled. "One thinks we’ve gone quite mad."

"And the other?" asked Celina, breaking her long silence.

Thedric turned to her. "The other reply came from the Seer’s Order in Westeron. They say a darkness comes. Something evil."

Celina snorted. "That’s it? Nothing specific? No guidance?"

"I know your thoughts on Seers, Celina. But it is an unpredictable skill at best."

Taryn shivered, remembering her own contact with a Revenant. Celina caught her movement and misinterpreted it.

"We should go," said Celina as she pushed back her chair. "Taryn needs rest."

"Of course," said Thedric. "Keep well, child. We hope to see you back at Vescant by spring."

"Yes, thank you." Taryn’s mind whirled from the news Thedric had given her. She spoke as Thedric and Celina stood at her doorway. "Will you keep us informed? If you learn anything else about these demons?"

Thedric nodded. "And you as well?"

"Yes. Safe journey."

The room grew quiet enough for Taryn to hear her own exhausted breathing. She slid down the pillows, aware again of her own weakness. Sleep settled her confused thoughts.

Chapter 5

Taryn had recovered enough of her strength to be a grumpy, unpleasant convalescent by the time all the councilors had been summoned to the Keep from the far reaches of the province. Poor Katarine had to deal with her fits of temper and bouts of self-pity at her physical limitations.

Taryn greeted the day of the council meeting with a mixture of resignation and annoyance. After more than a week, she would finally get out of her stuffy quarters, but only by being carried down the flight of stairs by two stout guards. While she could hobble around her own rooms, she could not maneuver down the long curved staircase to the lower level. She dressed in her green Adept’s robe, symbolic of her choice to return to Vescant as soon as she was able. Katarine gently brushed her hands aside when Taryn tried to braid her own long black hair. Katarine’s deft hands worked two long braids and looped them up off Taryn’s neck. Taryn grumbled her thanks as a hard knock on the door signaled it was time. Katarine opened the door to show two large guards dressed in the blue and silver tunics of Damek.

"Your pardon, Lady. The councilors are waiting for you." The speaker was the elder of the two, a broad-shouldered man with thinning brown hair.

The other man looked familiar. Taryn hobbled over to the door before she remembered. "Bran, isn’t it?" she asked.

"Yes, Lady," said Bran, his voice as bereft of emotion as she remembered.

The older man gave his comrade an odd look before offering Taryn a hand.

"I can make it to the stairs on my own," she said, waving off his aid. She heard Katarine’s exasperated sigh behind her.

Taryn hobbled past the guards and set off down the hall. Her thick wooden crutches clunked along the floor in rhythm to her step. She stopped at the top stair, looking down the wide sweeping staircase to the edge of the main hall. Twenty-four steps and one mid-level landing separated her from the rest of the world. Her shoulders slumped as the guards took up position on either side of her. Taryn was an inch taller than the older guard and stood eye to eye with Bran. Thus she had the ignominious treat of needing two guards to get her down the stairs.

The elder guard shifted beside her. "If you are ready, Lady?"

Taryn’s jaw tightened. She nodded. Katarine took her crutches as the two guards lifted her in their arms and made their way down the stairs. Taryn closed her eyes as she counted each step to the bottom. She opened her eyes the instant they made it to the lower landing and practically pushed herself out of the arms of the guards. She balanced on her good leg until Katarine swung around from behind the guards with her crutches.

Taryn leaned on the crutches. "Thank you for your assistance."

She hobbled through the main hall to the corridor leading to the council chambers. She spoke up when Katarine made to follow her. "I am fine from here. Please give yourself a rest, Katarine."

"Yes, Lady." Katarine curtsied.

"And in a moment, I’ll no longer be a Lady." Taryn thought she saw Katarine’s eyes dampen. She turned away and clunked her way down the corridor to the council chamber. Phelin waited for her at the doors. She expected a victorious smile, but his face remained a cool mask. Wasn’t this what he wanted? Perhaps she should give him more credit for being gracious in triumph.

"Is everyone here?" she asked.

"Yes," said Phelin, holding the door open for her.

Taryn thumped into the chamber, her crutches muted on the stone floor. The councilors lined the large oak table, much like they had on the day she accepted this position. They left a chair for her at the front of the table, nearest the door. Alek stood by her chair, and Celina sat on the opposite side. An empty chair beside her mother belonged to Phelin, presenting the façade of a family united. She sank into the chair, and her brother took a seat beside her. Phelin shut the dark double doors and seated himself at Celina’s right. The chamber grew quiet.

"Thank you all for coming here so late in the season," said Taryn. "We would not normally bring you out from your homes so close to harvest, but as you can see, my brother has returned."

A quiet murmur rippled along the table, but Taryn pushed on. "For the past year, I have willingly accepted the responsibility the council placed on me in Alek’s absence. Now that he is back, I am renouncing my claim in favor of him."

The grumbling along the table grew louder. Sebran of Westeron at last spoke out, his thick mustache twitching as he voiced his displeasure. "Is this wise? Nothing against you, Alek, but you left us with no guidance. Now you return, and you expect to be re-instated with out so much as an explanation? Damek has done well this past year. I for one see no reason to change." Sebran looked at his fellow councilors, searching for support.

Alek’s anger was palpable beside Taryn. She wondered how much of Sebran's bravado was his own well-known ambition to have married her and ruled Damek beside her. Before the council meeting got out of hand she spoke up, her voice loud and firm. "This is not an issue for debate. I accepted this duty only because my brother was absent. I am glad to have served you and Damek well, but now it is over. I wish to return to my own life at Vescant."

Taryn scanned the councilors. Most nodded their agreement or kept their expressions neutral. Phelin remained as stony as the chamber floor. Only Farrel of the Velek border guards seemed out of sorts. She didn’t think he held the same beliefs as Sebran, but something was making him nervous. Sebran settled back in his chair now that he saw no significant support for his stance. Taryn shrugged. The politics of Damek would be Alek’s responsibility now.

She relaxed. It felt as if a dull pressure had been lifted off her shoulders. "Adele, if you will record this, I believe we can be done with this meeting."

Alek shifted beside her. "My thanks to you, sister, and all of you for maintaining Damek’s integrity and prosperity in my absence. Before this meeting ends, I would like to get briefings from each of you on your regions and responsibilities. I have much to catch up on."

Taryn pushed her chair out. "If you will excuse me then, I should like to return to my quarters." It was a lie, but she very much wanted to leave this chamber and all its responsibilities behind. Taryn stood. Leaning on her crutches, she gave a brief nod to the councilors. Farrel’s hands twitched without their customary mug of wine. Perhaps he needed its soothing effects to deal with Damek’s politics. She couldn’t blame him for that.

Alek held the door for her as she hobbled back into the corridor. He rested a hand on her shoulder and whispered a quick "Thank you" in her ear before shutting the doors behind her. Taryn smiled. At least she had her brother back. She clicked down the corridor with ease. Maybe she would stay in the main hall for awhile before requesting aid to get back up stairs. Taryn made her way down the corridor. She felt a slight headache coming, but resolved to ignore it. She needed time away from her quarters, preferably in the company of someone besides Katarine and her ramblings on which of her beaus her parents would match her with this winter.

Taryn hobbled around the side of the high-backed sofa before the fireplace and understood now where her headache came from. Alek’s companion sat on a stool before the fire, picking the threads out of whatever piece of needlework she’d been working on. Sarai looked up as Taryn balanced on one foot, trying to decide if she should stay or leave. The dark woman’s golden eyes sank into Taryn. She winced as her headache doubled. Why did the woman have this affect on no one else?

Taryn gritted her teeth. Thedric left Sarai in her care and she resolved to tutor the woman to the best of her abilities. She eyed up the sofa, and then glanced to the far bench along the wall, well away from the fire. She chose distance over comfort and settled herself on the bench. Her arms ached from where the crutches held her up, and she rubbed the sore muscles. Sarai lowered her gaze, returning to her needlework. Taryn watched her dark face cringe as Sarai yanked more threads out.

"I never liked needlepoint," said Taryn.

Sarai nodded. "It is…difficult."

Taryn had to smile at that. Sarai’s voice had a musical quality to it that felt soothing. At this distance, the pressure in her head seemed more manageable. She could see Sarai now without being overwhelmed by pain. The other woman wore a dark burgundy dress trimmed with intricate black lacing at wrist and collar. She was not as small as Taryn had thought. Of course she’d been standing next to Alek then, and even Taryn looked small compared to the bulk which was her brother. Sarai’s shoulder-length copper hair had grown. With the added benefit of being clean and well brushed, it seemed quite pretty.

"You are learning the language?" asked Taryn.

"Some," said Sarai, looking up at Taryn.

Gold eyes again bore into her. Taryn rubbed her temples, trying to ease the pain in her head.

Sarai looked away. "I hurt you." Her voice held a note of sadness.

Of course. Sarai had empathic potential. Taryn lowered her hands. "Yes, but I’m not sure why." She chose her words carefully. "Thedric tested you earlier."

When Sarai frowned, Taryn stooped her shoulders and scratched her head, mimicking her old mentor. She felt a flicker of pain as Sarai watched her antics, then averted her eyes again.

"Yes," said Sarai, smiling.

"He asked me to help you, to teach you."

Sarai fingered the threads in her lap. "How?"

"Mind to mind," said Taryn, pointing to her head.

"It will hurt you?"

Taryn studied her own hands. "Possibly. We’ll have to go carefully."

Sarai gazed into the fire, the light dancing across her dark features. She nodded once, and Taryn took that as her signal to begin. Taryn’s palms were sweaty. This could be very painful. Maybe she should wait for her mother, another shinaran to watch incase of problems? No, she could handle this on her own. Squaring her shoulders, Taryn calmed her flittering thoughts. She breathed deeply, focusing on Sarai, who still stared into the fire. She closed her eyes, and reached out to the other woman. A confused jumble of Sarai’s thoughts swirled around Taryn, some surface level, others deeper, more personal.

Sarai, you need to build up your barriers, separate your private thoughts from this link. Can you do that?

I am not sure.

The touch of Sarai’s thoughts was like no other. Taryn felt as if a warm breeze caressed her, soft and gentle as her headache faded. The feeling was almost sensual, bringing a flush to Taryn's cheeks. She kept the sensations hidden behind her own trained barriers.

Can you focus on just us, what we are doing without the distraction of your other thoughts?

Sarai’s mind settled.

That’s better. You still need to bring up a full barrier, a wall that will separate what you want me to hear from the other thoughts that are crossing your mind.

I do not understand.

Taryn considered her options. A barrier was crucial to any other lessons she taught. Most shinaran children grew up around other telepaths, learning how to block almost by instinct. Let’s try this a different way. I want you to concentrate on my thoughts, try to penetrate into my mind. I’ll be blocking you, and you’ll feel what it’s like to hit a barrier from the outside.

Will it hurt you?

Taryn smiled. No, it shouldn’t. She’d been taught at Vescant how to resist even a trained Interrogator. She cleared her mind of all thoughts, putting up a wall between her and Sarai. A part of her still lingered in Sarai’s mind to observe the other woman’s reactions.

The power of Sarai’s mind forcing itself against hers sent a searing pain through Taryn’s mind. In an instant her barriers crumpled and once again she found herself in that odd dual vision. She saw the red embers of the fireplace, though she knew her own eyes were shut.

Please, no, she begged as she felt the tracks of Sarai’s mind in her thoughts. The pain lessened, but she had no power to resist the other woman’s invasion into her mind.

Sarai broke the contact. Taryn sank to the floor, cradling her head in her hands. How had Sarai done that? Even a Master Interrogator with decades of training could not destroy another’s barriers so quickly. By the time Taryn lifted herself off the floor, Sarai was gone, her needlepoint scattered by the fireplace as if she’d just run away. Taryn struggled to the sofa and collapsed on the cushions, letting the heat of the fire sooth her throbbing head.

Why had Thedric left that woman in her care? Surely he had tried something similar when he tested her potentials, yet he did not think she could force her way into another’s mind. Sarai could punch through Taryn’s defenses at will, creating that dual vision they'd shared. But of the three shinaran in the Keep, why did only Taryn experience these problems with Sarai?

Thedric made no mention of Sarai not having barriers. Surely that would have been an important discovery as well. Her mother never mentioned it either. Was she the only one vulnerable to Sarai's power? Voices filtering from the corridor broke Taryn’s concentration. She straightened herself up as individual councilors trickled through the main hall on their way to the stables.

Alek’s voice boomed over the rest. "No, I’m sorry. I don’t agree. The Velek border-guard should be increased."

"There’s no threat there," said Farrel. "The forest is impenetrable."

"I don’t care. So long as Fasal remains in control of Tramoran, I want that border patrolled as if it’s an open road. Phelin?"

Phelin’s cold voice answered. "Yes, my Lord. I will make the necessary arrangements with Farrel."

"Good." Alek strode into the main hall and paused by Taryn on the sofa. The rest of the councilors continued on their way. "Was Sarai here?" he asked.

Taryn glanced at the scattered needlework on the floor. "Yes. We had a small lesson. It didn’t end well."

Alek frowned, and then shrugged as he settled on the sofa next to her.

"Is all well in Damek, brother?"

"Mostly," he sighed. "Damn that Farrel for a stubborn mule. I’m surprised you put up with him for a year."

Taryn laughed. "Well you put up with him for five and father for another five before that."

"Yes, well Farrel’s father was a good man, dependable and honest. I wish the same could be said for the son."

"Do you think he’s causing problems?" Taryn asked.

"No, nothing serious. Just a bit too opinionated and too cheap to fulfill his duty with the border-guards. If he cut out some of that drinking, he could be an asset to us."

Alek sat up. "I should go find Sarai." His cheeks flushed pink.

Taryn didn’t need empathic abilities to see where Alek’s feelings lay. She resisted the urge to tease him as he left to search for Sarai.

#

Taryn shuffled out of her room, determined not to procrastinate on Sarai's lessons any longer. She'd written to Thedric and received assurances that Sarai had no potential as an Interrogator. Whatever difficulties Taryn experienced with Sarai, they were unique to the two of them. Thedric had faith in Taryn's ability to teach the desert woman, and she would not disappoint him.

Pausing at the top of the stairs leading down to the main hall, Taryn prepared for the twenty-four step journey. As she shifted both crutches to one hand, she heard the clatter of something metal coming from the second floor corridor beyond the staircase. Knowing that Sarai slept in a room in that direction, Taryn gambled that her student was still in her rooms and hobbled toward Sarai's open door.

Resting on the door frame, Taryn let her gaze wander around Sarai's room. It was a sparsely decorated guest room, and the desert woman had done little to change the décor. Thin summer drapes hung from the sole window to the right of a narrow bed. Stooped by the black iron brazier, Sarai fumbled with metal prongs, pushing around unlit coals over a handful of burning embers. Taryn held back a laugh as she watched Sarai struggle a moment longer. The desert woman's copper hair was pulled back, revealing a small narrow face. That face turned from the brazier to the door. Intense amber eyes looked up, and Taryn felt Sarai's warm mental touch. Distance kept the headache to a minimum.

"Having problems?" Taryn asked.

Sarai poked at the coals. "I do not know these heating stones."

"Coal," Taryn corrected. "They're not easy to get started. You need a good, hot fire to get the coals going."

"I need more wood?" asked Sarai.

Taryn hopped to a chair by the door and sat. "That would help, but there's another way, if you don't mind taking a short cut."

Sarai concentrated on Taryn's words, and then grinned. "A short cut is good."

Taryn felt her heart flutter as the smile lifted Sarai's dark features. The desert woman was beyond pretty. No wonder Alek took such a strong interest in her. "With the right concentration, you can heat the coals yourself if you'll let me teach you."

Sarai lowered her head as a blush crept up her dark brown cheeks. "I would like that." She looked up. "But will I hurt you again?"

"Not if we start with a small lesson."

Trying to keep her own unruly emotions in check, Taryn lowered her crutches to the floor and opened her thoughts to Sarai. It's very simple. Concentrate on a space in front of you. Once you've blocked out stray thoughts, ignite a small spark to start, she explained.

Show me, please? Sarai asked.

Extending her hand, palm upward, Taryn concentrated. A tiny flame danced in the air above her hand. She let it play in the space between her and Sarai, and then let it fade out. Your turn

Sarai kneeled by the open brazier. Taryn sensed Sarai focus on the unlit coals. She kept in light contact with Sarai, following the other woman's concentration. She felt a flash of power leave Sarai's extended hand. Intense green-blue flames burst from the brazier, exploding the wood chips piled beneath the coals.

Not so much power, Taryn warned.

Taryn focused on the fire, controlling the flames as Sarai pulled back her energy and let her focus drop from the fire. The flames faded under Taryn's guidance, leaving glowing red coals in its wake.

"I failed," said Sarai, staring at the floor.

"Not at all. You succeeded beyond my expectations." Taryn pushed back a strand of loose hair that dangled in her eyes, trying not to let Sarai sense her hidden concern. The desert woman had so much raw power and so little control.

"Did your parents ever teach you how to control your power?" she asked.

Sarai stood up and walked to the window. "I do not remember." She pulled open the drapes, revealing a gray sky over bare trees.

Realizing she was treading on a sensitive topic for Sarai, Taryn resisted the urge to ask further questions. "Heavier drapes will keep your room warmer this winter," she said, hoping to draw Sarai out of her dour mood.

"I do not wish to be trouble."

"Nonsense. Katarine can help you. It will give her an excuse to avoid me for a day or so. I can be very grumpy when I'm bored."

Sarai laughed. "We should make you not bored."

"Yes," Taryn agreed, smiling. "We should."

She grabbed her crutches and pulled herself upright. "I should probably let you get on with your day."

"I am glad you visited." Sarai stepped toward her. "May I help you back to your room?"

As Sarai approached, Taryn's head began to throb. She waved Sarai off, reluctantly. "I'd better walk back myself. I need to build up my leg muscles again."

Sarai's saddened expression revealed that she'd sensed Taryn's pain and knew the cause. Taryn struggled to come up with something to say that would erase Sarai's sadness, but she could think of nothing that would take back the pain she'd transmitted over their shared link.

"I'm heading down stairs," said Taryn. "Maybe I'll see you there later?"

"Yes," said Sarai. Her amber eyes held Taryn's for a heartbeat.

Taryn caught an echo of sadness and something else in that last contact. Was it loneliness? She wanted to say more, but the silence between them became awkward. She turned and hobbled down the corridor.

#

The first blanket of snow floated by the wide windows of the library as Taryn sat studying shinaran training techniques. She wanted more control over her lessons with Sarai. She'd already proven her theory that Sarai could penetrate only her own barriers. She felt a twinge of guilt for having used her mother for that risky test. Why she was uniquely vulnerable to Sarai remained a mystery. She heard rapid footsteps approaching from behind her and turned in her chair to see her mother rushing into the library.

"Taryn, you need to come see this." Celina’s pale face worried Taryn.

"What is it?" she asked.

"In the main hall, someone’s captured one of your demon creatures. Alive."

Taryn grabbed her single crutch and hurried out of the library behind her mother. The clamor from the main hall echoed down the corridor as they approached. Taryn paused at the entrance, struck by the chaos before her. A handful of guards stood in a wary circle by the main double doors, surrounding a man and some snarling beast. Staff from the kitchen and stable hung by the entrances, enthralled and frightened.

"You all, back to your duties," Celina ordered to the staff as she approached the circle of guards. They moved out of the hall slowly, whispering to each other as they left. Taryn followed her mother to the source of the commotion, the guards parting to let them in. Taryn saw a small wolf-like creature. It was covered in matted gray fur, but its paws seemed more like small hands and feet. She studied the creature and it stared back at her, sharp canines bared as it emitted a weak growl. As Taryn watched, a shiver rippled across the creature’s thin body.

She looked then to the man who controlled the beast, holding it by a rope around its neck. The man’s thick brown hair and beard surrounded a pockmarked face and intense gray eyes. His ragged features contrasted the calm soothing approach he took to control the beast beside him. It pressed against his leg like a frightened dog.

"Tell my daughter what you told me," said Celina.

The man looked to Taryn. "I am Nehamad, horse trainer to Sebran of Westeron."

Horse trainer and animal empath, Taryn thought.

"I captured this creature in the woods beyond my farm. It's like no other."

Taryn looked back at the creature. It watched Nehamad, who stroked its head with a callused hand.

"Different beyond its physical deformities?" asked Taryn.

"Its mind, it’s no wolf."

"What do you sense?"

"Fear. Intelligence."

Taryn sighed. Animal empaths were highly sought after for their abilities to communicate on some level with animals. Unfortunately that seemed to coincide with a lack of ability to talk to humans.

"It seems very thin. Is it sick?" she asked.

"Dying." Nehamad’s deep voice held a note of anger.

Taryn lowered herself to the floor, watching the creature. It eyed her warily as she held out her hand, treating it like a strange dog. She felt Nehamad’s eyes on her as well. The creature whined for a moment, then took a step forward, sniffing Taryn’s outstretched hand.

"Is it dangerous?" asked Celina.

"Only if it feels threatened," said Nehamad.

Taryn uncurled her fingers and scratched the underside of its muzzle. "I’ll need you to control it while I probe it."

"Taryn," said Celina, "You can’t be thinking of healing this thing?"

"If it’s ill, I have to try."

Nehamad knelt beside the creature. His eyes bore into Taryn, and she felt a rush of emotions from him, gratitude and something else, an attraction bordering on lust. Taryn turned away. "Just try to keep it calm," she said. "Does it have injuries that you know of?"

"No," said Nehamad. "But I know it will die soon."

Taryn stroked the bristly fur on the creature’s back. She relaxed, and then began her probe. Focusing on what lay beneath the surface, Taryn searched for signs of sickness. She had never fully probed an animal before, but she was struck by the oddity of this creature’s anatomy. The spine curved at an unnatural angle for a four-legged beast and both the snout and legs showed signs of weakness inherent in their size and shape. She wondered how this creature survived from a wolf-pup. Taryn saw what Nehamad could sense as well. The creature would die soon. Something about its makeup was unstable. Taryn sensed something else. A mind watched her as she probed, something intelligent but young. It felt as if it wanted to talk to her, plead with her somehow. It felt almost human.

Taryn pulled back with a start, scrambling away from the beast. Nehamad stared at her, his teeth bared as the creature growled at her. She felt his anger as Celina helped her stand back up.

"Call Ulrica. Get her here now," said Taryn.

"An Interrogator? Taryn do you have reason to think this man is lying?" asked Celina.

Nehamad stood up as the circle of guards drew closer.

"Not for him, for the creature," said Taryn.

Nehamad’s expression cleared. "You sense it too, don’t you?"

"Yes."

Celina looked from Nehamad to Taryn. "Sense what? What’s going on here?"

Taryn turned from the group. "Get Ulrica. Only she can tell for sure."

"And the beast?" asked one of the guards.

Nehamad watched her as she answered. "I’m sorry, we have no place else. Put it in the dungeon." Taryn held up a hand as Nehamad made to protest. "You are welcome to stay with it for now. The dungeon is not a comfortable place, even for an animal, but it’s the only safe enclosure we have. And we can’t risk this creature escaping. You understand that."

It was Taryn’s turn to stare at Nehamad. He bowed his head after a moment.

"I will stay with her," he said.

The guards led him down the far corridor to the staircase that led to the dungeon under the Keep. Celina gave directions to one guard and sent him off to Atheron to fetch the Interrogator.

"Well, what are you thinking?" asked Celina, once they were alone in the main hall.

"The creature’s mind is something beyond animal. It’s hard to say, but I felt like there was an intelligence there, almost human."

Celina frowned. "You mean like your Cerrol demon? A creature capable of human thought?"

"Not really, I don’t know. I didn’t actually see the Cerrol demon. This one felt, childlike. And very frightened."

"You’re not suggesting that thing has the mind of a human child?"

Taryn closed her eyes. "Hopefully Ulrica can tell for sure." She looked at her mother. "And I don’t think it’s just the mind. The body had both human and wolf characteristics, like a hybrid."

Celina paled, "Gods, Taryn. Is that possible?"

The solid oak doors from the inner Keep opened, ending their conversation. Taryn peered around her mother, anticipating Ulrica’s arrival. Instead it was Alek and Sarai, discarding their warm cloaks at the door as they entered.

"I’d forgotten how cold autumn is around here," said Alek as he sat on a bench by the fire.

Sarai knelt silently beside him. Something about her submissive posture grated on Taryn’s nerves. "Perhaps you should get a proper seat for your companion?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Sarai kept her gaze averted, but Taryn still felt the subtle mental pressure that always accompanied Sarai’s presence. She watched as Alek encouraged Sarai to sit beside him on the bench. Somehow that did not make Taryn any happier.

"How have her lessons been going?" asked Celina.

"Slowly," said Taryn. "I’m having problems teaching her to build up her barriers."

Celina smiled, "Yes, I remember you as a child, tenacious little snooper that you were."

Alek laughed, "You mean she kept invading your thoughts?"

"Yes and broadcasting her own." Celina turned to Taryn. "Until you were eight, I had to deal with every flicker of emotion you felt, from the temper-tantrums when your father went out and took Alek and Phelin, to the pet turtle who died when you were six."

Taryn grimaced, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She saw the faintest smile lift up Sarai’s red lips and blushed even further. Obviously the woman’s language skills were improving. "Well, Mother, since you're so experienced at this, maybe you should try teaching Sarai for a time."

Celina patted her on the leg, "Now, now. Don’t get defensive, dear. But if you don’t mind, maybe I will have a lesson or two with her. I think I did a well enough job with you when you were younger."

"If Sarai is willing, then please do," said Taryn.

Sarai looked at Taryn for just an instant, a brief flicker of thought passing over Taryn that felt like regret, then she nodded. "I would be honored to learn from you, Lady."

"Well, Let’s try a little test of those barriers to start." Celina smoothed her skirt and sat up straight. She closed her eyes and Sarai let her own drift shut.

"Taryn, I don’t know what your talking about," said Celina a moment later. "Her thoughts are completely blocked."

"Really?" asked Taryn. The pressure on her mind had not turned into a full headache, so maybe Sarai was learning some self-control. She focused on Sarai again, searching for the barriers her mother encountered. Instead, she was once again swept into the depths of Sarai’s thoughts. This time, Sarai’s mind seemed less cluttered with random thoughts and feelings.

Taryn kept the link with Sarai open. You’re not blocking me.

I do not know how.

But you blocked my mother.

She is not you.

Taryn let the mental link dissolve. She wanted to ask Sarai what she’d meant, but her own inhibitions kept her silent. The great oak doors swung open, this time letting in a guard who was overshadowed by the considerable girth of Ulrica, the Atheron Interrogator. Ulrica took off her cloak and swung it over the shoulder of the unsuspecting guard beside her. She wore her deep gray Interrogator robe which hung off broad shoulders and past her wide hips to barely touch the tiles as she walked.

Taryn felt her mother’s discomfort as the heavyset woman approached. The Interrogator spent a silent moment staring at each person in the room, an attempt to intimidate all around her. She spent a long time with Sarai, who met her gaze with a calm dignity that Taryn wished she could match. She felt her own dislike for Ulrica grow as the woman turned to her.

"You are the one who called for my services," said Ulrica.

Taryn stood, grasping her crutch. "Yes. There is a creature in our dungeon that I need you to investigate."

Ulrica folded her arms. "I do not deal with animals."

"This isn't a natural animal, that I know. What it is, well I hope you can discover that."

Ulrica raised an eyebrow. "As you wish. Let’s get on with it then. I need to be back in Atheron by dinner."

Alek stood up to join them and Sarai stood as well.

"I don’t think you should come," said Taryn, looking at Sarai and remembering the unpleasant nature of an Interrogator’s duties.

"Why not?" asked Alek.

"She’s an empath. This sort of experience could hurt her nearly as much as the creature below."

Celina patted the sofa next to her. "Stay with me, child. I’ve no stomach for what’s about to happen either."

Sarai turned back and sat down beside Celina.

Taryn led the way down the corridor to the steep stone steps leading to the dungeons below the Keep. "You two go ahead. It’ll take me a moment to navigate these stairs."

Ulrica swept past her as Alek took over the lead, heading down the stairs. When they disappeared from view, Taryn hobbled down behind them, hopping one step at a time. By the time she reached the bottom stair, a sheen of sweat covered her face. The cool, dry air of the basement corridor greeted her as she caught her breath. Storage rooms lined the walls on either side of the corridor, leading to an open area for weapons training on bad weather days. Taryn caught up with Alek and Ulrica as a guard opened the thick iron gate separating the dungeon from the rest of the basement.

Taryn sniffed at the murky air. She could smell the creature now, a pungent odor mixed with something else, something diseased. She came to a stop with the other two in front of the occupied cell. A torch flickered on a nearby wall, casting eerie shadows across the gated enclosure. The creature made a small bed out of the floor straws. It lay now, its muzzle snorting wisps of air across Nehamad’s lap.

Nehamad watched them. "The Interrogator," he said.

"And you must be an animal empath. So obvious," said Ulrica.

Taryn ignored their antipathy toward each other. "Nehamad, this will cause the creature some pain. I’ll need you to keep it calm if you can."

He nodded, keeping his dark eyes on Ulrica.

The woman planted her feet. Taryn knew the instant the Interrogator forced her way into the creature’s mind. It let out a high-pitched wail and arched its back, further straining the curvature of its weakened spine. Taryn clenched her jaw but kept quiet. Ulrica could have made a more subtle entry, if she’d had any sympathy for her victim.

The creature writhed in pain as the forced probe continued. Seeing Ulrica’s cold determination, Taryn knew somehow that Sarai could never do this. It would be impossible for an empath to force her way into another’s mind, not with that much pain involved. Whatever oddity existed between her and Sarai, the other woman could not be an untrained Interrogator.

Without warning, the creature leaped from its bed and threw itself at the iron bars separating it from Ulrica. The Interrogator did not move, but a moment later the creature howled in agony, throwing its head back and landing on the dirt floor of the cell with a sickening crack.

"No!" shouted Nehamad as he cradled the head of the now silent creature. It no longer moved. He lay the head back on the ground, then stood and clutched the bars. "You," he growled, his thick hands reaching through the bars as if he wished to claw at her. "I will break you as you broke her."

Ulrica focused on Nehamad and he stood back, clutching his head.

"No," said Taryn, grasping the Interrogator’s thick forearms. "He is not to be Interrogated."

Ulrica broke contact with Nehamad. "He should be. Whoever created that abomination must be found."

"Agreed, but he is not under suspicion. What did you discover?" asked Taryn.

Ulrica wiped her voluminous sleeve across her brow. "Wolf, and child, a young girl, mixed together. Somehow horribly combined."

Taryn nodded as Alek approached the cell, staring wide-eyed at the dead creature.

"And you killed it?" asked Alek.

"Yes," said Ulrica, regaining her cold expression. "It was dying anyway." She turned to Taryn. "I know you dislike my profession, you think I am cruel. And I am. All Interrogators must be to perform our duties. No mind wants to be invaded. But this," she waved her arm at the cell, "this was horrible. The girl was aware, fully aware, and in pain."

Nehamad regained his composure. "You did not have to kill her, not that way."

Ulrica shrugged. "Death is death. And it could not come too quickly for her." She turned and strode back to the stairs.

Taryn looked to Alek. "Can you?"

"Yes," he said, understanding her need. "Guard? Help me here, will you?"

Taryn turned and hobbled after Ulrica. Somehow, knowing an Interrogator could kill with just her mind was not a comforting thought.

#

Strange dreams disturbed Taryn's sleep, images so foreign that she could not grasp their meanings. By morning, it felt as if she fought through a thick fog as she struggled to wake herself from a semi-conscious state. She breathed in shallow gasps. Her chest felt heavy, each breath an effort against that weight. At some point, Taryn realized she must have caught a chest infection. Her body shivered under the thick layers of blankets tangled around her on the bed. She fought against the fog in her mind, trying to focus enough to determine the source of her illness.

With effort, she managed to clear her mind long enough to scan her own body. She focused on the pain in her chest, scanning for congestion in her lungs. She found nothing there, all seemed clear and normal. As she probed deeper, she discovered her breathing eased, and the chills stopped. So long as she concentrated on herself, she felt normal, if somewhat sleepy from the fitful night. She raised herself out of the healing trance, and instantly felt the pressure on her chest increase. She rolled to her side, wanting to cough out congestion that did not exist. Her mind struggled against the fog again.

Mother, where are you?

I'm in Sarai's room, dear. She's got lung fever. I was about to send for you.

Taryn wrapped the blankets around her shivering body. I know, I can feel her fever.

I don't understand.

Neither do I, but I can't Heal her in this condition. Somehow she's linked to me and I feel all of her pain.

What do you want me to do?

Taryn thought a moment. Do you have any thesalin, Mother?

Yes. You want me to drug her?

Yes, please. It will dampen her mental abilities and sever the link between us. I can't do it on my own.

But we have no idea what kind of dose to give her. If we give too much, it could be worse than letting the fever take its course.

Taryn considered the options. She hadn't had lung fever since she was a child, but she didn't want to spend the next week suffering vicariously through Sarai.

We'll try small doses. I'll know when the link weakens, and we can stop there.

It took three doses before Sarai's link to Taryn lessened enough for Taryn to regain control. She still felt part of the fever, but not enough to prevent her from healing Sarai. She dare not give any more thesalin to the woman. The elixir, created from the pollen of the thessyn flower, acted as an inhibitor to shinaran abilities. Too much of the drug could inhibit breathing and heart rate to the point of death. Taryn pulled on a robe and joined her mother in Sarai's room. The dark woman lay on her bed, lost in a pile of blankets she did not need in her fevered state. Her eyes remained closed, and Taryn prayed they had not administered too much thesalin.

"She's been ill most of the night," said Celina.

"That explains the nightmares," said Taryn.

"What?"

"Nothing," said Taryn. "Is she conscious?"

"Not since dawn. Katarine came for me when she discovered Sarai's fever."

Taryn pulled a chair up to the edge of Sarai's bed. She rested one hand on the woman's hot forehead and the other hovered over Sarai's chest. She closed her eyes and tried to scan Sarai. Taryn's thoughts felt cloudy. She shook her head.

"What is it?"

Taryn shrugged. "It's the thessalin, I think. I can't focus."

Celina gave her a hard stare. "You mean she's still linked with you?"

"On some level, yes."

"We gave her enough thessalin to put down an ox for the night."

Taryn pressed her palms to her temples. "If I concentrate, maybe I can get past this." She closed her eyes again and focused her breathing. After a moment, she raised one hand over Sarai. This time her healing scan penetrated the drug-induced fog. She saw the congestion in Sarai's lungs. With effort, she cleared the source of the infection, and eased the woman's fever. Before she pulled away from Sarai, she linked with the now-sleeping woman one last time. Sarai's breathing was steady, and her temperature lower. She felt a cool presence in her own mind, something light and tenuous. Taryn lingered under that gentle touch from Sarai's unconscious mind. She felt a warmth within her that had nothing to do with Sarai's fever. With regret, she pulled out of the link entirely and opened her eyes. Sarai sighed and rolled toward Taryn, curling herself in the blankets.

"How is she?" asked Celina.

A soft smile curled Taryn's lips. She brushed a few damp strands of Sarai's copper hair off the woman's face. "She'll be fine. She just needs a good rest now."

Celina stood up and Taryn joined her.

"Why would she come down with a children's illness?" asked Celina.

"Maybe they don't have lung fever in the desert," Taryn answered, as her eyes lingered on Sarai's peaceful face.

Chapter 6

 Fasal Dar Bahn paced along the shoreline, his black heels sinking in the wet sand. A wiry man, half Fasal's size, jogged beside him as he walked on. Commander Josep, small, cat-like in appearance and just as calculating, fed Fasal a steady stream of reports on the tactical readiness of the military leader’s various forces.

"The third and fourth battalions have made good progress along the southern route, my Lord. The supply lines have slowed some due to heavy rains, but the road conditions are improving. We anticipate they will catch up with the battalions within the week."

Fasal stepped over a patch of slick green seaweed and bent to pick up a smooth stone. Josep stopped at his left as Fasal turned toward the sea and cast his stone into the white foam of the cresting waves. Fasal’s eyes followed the stone as it skipped up beyond the waves.

"And the galleons?" asked Fasal. He surveyed the fleet weighing anchor in the gray waters of Tramoran Bay.

"They are ready to sail at your command, my Lord, provided the weather holds. With the new facades and extra ballast to keep them low in the water, no one can tell from a distance that they are slave transport ships."

Fasal studied the vessels. He had to agree they looked much like his real fleet in Beht, even down to a fake flagship flying his colors. Fasal smiled and turned inland, up the shoreline. Before him stood row upon row of canvas tents, the accumulated accoutrements of his First Battalion, and  beyond them, his mobile strike force, two hundred well-armed horsemen. Fasal tapped his golden scabbard against his leg as he marched up through the field of tents.

"What’s the news on the forest route?" he asked.

Josep kept pace with him while glancing down as his report parchment. "We will break through the Velek Forest before your birthday, my Lord."

Fasal slowed his stride and graced Josep with a pat on the back that threatened to land the smaller man face down in the dry sand. "You planned this as my birthday gift, old friend?"

Josep’s lips curled into a grim smile. "What better way to celebrate your fiftieth birthday than delivering Damek to you, my Lord?"

Fasal laughed, deep and hearty. "If only Brion were alive to feel the shame of that day, Josep."

As Fasal approached a large tan tent, the two soldiers guarding the entrance clicked their polished black boots together and stood at attention. Fasal paused at the entrance, his hand holding the heavy tarp that kept the cold ocean breeze from entering his command post.

"And Damek’s border guards?"

"Our accomplice assures me that most are being redirected to other posts, and the remaining are loyal to our cause."

"Excellent, Joseph, excellent, and thank you," said Fasal, dismissing his commander.

Fasal bowed under the tarp to enter his command tent and let the flap fall shut behind him. His eyes adjusted to the darker interior, configured as three separate rooms under the large tent. The front was empty except for his battle armor and weapons. He could see within the planning room off to the left, just making out the two large tables covered in maps and reports. He heard someone within his personal room on the right and passed beyond the separator curtain to see a beautiful auburn-haired woman in brilliant blue robes seated on his chair by a small brazier.

"Vasali," he grumbled.

She turned to him, smiling. "All goes well, my Lord?"

Fasal walked over and stared down at her, silent until she shifted sideways out of his chair and stood, giving him a weak bow. Fasal took off his scabbard and sword.

"Well enough" he replied as he sat, irritated by her thin veneer of respect. If he didn’t need her control over their accomplice in Damek, he’d have had her killed by now, cleric or not. He doubted her religious calling anyway.

Vasali simpered under his angry gaze. "Your plans are most ingenious, my Lord."

Fasal muttered his agreement and surveyed the room around him, searching for a cloth to wipe the salty sea mist off his sword and scabbard. "Was there something you wanted, Vasali?" he asked.

"No, my Lord. I am here only to serve you."

That I doubt, he thought. "You serve me well if your traitor stays on course."

"It is assured. Your southern diversion shall signal Damek’s downfall. Brion’s Keep will be yours before winter sets in."

"It should always have been mine."

#

Taryn sat on the couch in the main hall with Sarai sitting on a stool in front of her. Oil lamps burned on a nearby table as the two women focused on the current lesson.

That's better. Taryn leaned forward, ignoring the pressure in her head. Concentrate on pushing my thoughts out. Isolate your mind.

Taryn felt Sarai's mental touch recede. Excellent. Your barriers are stronger now.

It is uncomfortable.

Taryn sighed. Yes, I feel it too. It's not supposed to be. It was not so much a real pain, but a loss of something, a mental ache.

Can I stop now? Sarai asked.

Yes. You've done well today.

Like a gentle summer breeze, the touch of Sarai's mind surrounded Taryn again. Taryn closed her eyes, basking in its sensual touch. No other mind had ever felt like this to her. Not even when she and Maret were lovers at Vescant.

Sarai strengthened the mental link. Your mind is like the cool rain in the desert.

Taryn looked up and fell into the depths of Sarai's amber eyes. She couldn't deny her feelings for the desert woman. Gently, she lessened the mental link, fearing Sarai would sense Taryn's attraction to her. "We should probably stop for the day. It's quite late," she said.

Sarai lowered her gaze. "You are tired. I should not take so much of your time."

"No," said Taryn. "I enjoy our lessons."

Sarai smiled shyly. "I like our times together as well."

Taryn blocked her body's unmistakable response to Sarai's words.

#

Damon was worried about Phelin. The younger man’s usually crisp, precise appearance was missing. He was running his hand repetitively through his dirty blonde hair. His military uniform lacked the diligent care and cleaning that had been a constant for Phelin since he was a boy. Even his boots were scuffed. Phelin paced before the stone hearth of the commander’s quarters, Damon’s old rooms and now Phelin’s. The younger man hadn’t changed the rooms much in the time since he became Commander of the Guard. The dark oak desk and chairs remained under the one wide window looking out toward Atheron. Reports were stacked neatly on a set of shelves lining the opposite wall. In fact the only change seemed to be the addition of two large maps of Damek and Tramoran, hanging to Damon’s right. He grimaced as his eyes dropped down to see the slovenly form of Farrell, organizer of the Velek border guard, slouching on a bench beneath the map of Tramoran.

"Are you sure these reports are accurate?" Damon asked.

Phelin pacing continued. "Reliable sources, yes. They came from Sebran himself, and he still has family in Tramoran. Ships are anchored in the southern edge of Tramoran Bay."

 Damon’s was distracted a moment by Farrell, who shifted his obese frame into a chair by the fire. The chair beneath Farrell groaned in protest.

"So you want my agreement to shift my guards off the Velek forest," Farrell rumbled with an arrogance that grated on Damon.

 Phelin paused in his pacing and turned to Farrell. "I want your opinion on the positioning of my guards. Do you think the border forces can be depleted for a shoreline defense to the south? What’s the activity by the forest?"

Farrell gulped from his ever-present wine goblet. No wonder the man let himself go, thought Damon. He remembered Farrell as a sly, ambitious man when Brion set him to control the Border Guards in the Velek region. Damon clucked silently while Farrell continued.

"The forest is as the forest has always been, impenetrable. I’ve asked for years now to reduce the forces there. Able men wasting their time in guardhouses, eating my food stores when they could be working the fields."

Phelin turned away from them and stared into the fire. "I’m not convinced," he said finally. "I don’t like thinning the forest guard like this, especially with Fasal on the move."

 He turned back around, and Damon studied his face. The boy was strained; his eyes red, skin paler than normal, if that were possible.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Damon.

"Conscripts."

"What?" sputtered Farrell, nearly tipping his goblet as he slammed it down on the table beside him. "You can’t be serious. More wasted men sitting idle? It’s nearly winter, boy. Not even Fasal would risk the seas during the winter storm season."

Damon had about enough of Farrell. He marched in front of the man and glared down at him, his hand on the hilt of his dagger. "You overstep your bounds, Farrell," he hissed.

Damon felt Phelin’s hand on his shoulder. "It’s alright, Damon. I’ve had to listen to far worse since my foster-father set me on the Council before I reached maturity."

"And you had Brion’s approval and respect for years before and after that. More respect than this man deserves," said Damon, emphasizing his point with a sharp kick to Farrell’s fat ankle. Damon saw a flicker of fear pass over the man’s porcine features. Maybe Farrell would remember his place now. Phelin urged Damon to step back a pace and he complied, satisfied for the moment.

"Back to my wish for conscripts" said Phelin. "I know winter is upon us, but what better time to take men from the fields as you say, Farrell. They’d only be sitting around their homes waiting for the spring thaw. Their families might even be grateful for the extra wages during slow winter months. If we show a strong force against Fasal’s galleons, he’ll think twice before staging a full invasion during the warmer weather."

Damon listened as Phelin presented his full defensive plans. He had to admit, the young man had a fine head for military strategy. Alas, that Brion had died before seeing through his own plans for Phelin and Tramoran. Damon thought they’d be having this discussion from the opposite view if Brion had lived.

Farrell sat up. "It’s a good plan, but what if Fasal is holding his forces for a spring invasion? Your winter conscripts will be anxious to get back to family and farm. You won’t be able to keep them through spring."

Damon reluctantly agreed with Farrell. "It’s risky to hold a standing army so early when invasion is least likely."

Phelin’s shoulders slumped. "So you both think I should wait until the spring." He turned to Farrell. "I still want those border guards heading south. Fasal’s galleons aren’t this close to our southern shore for nothing."

Farrell nodded his agreement. He pulled himself out of the chair with a grunt and left the room. Damon waited for Phelin to sort his papers, and then they left the commander’s quarters. As they walked down the stairs to the main hall, Damon put his hand on Phelin’s shoulder. "You’ve done well with Damek’s defenses. I think this is the right decision."

Phelin’s gray eyes held his. "It’s good that you agree, Damon. I’m putting you in charge of the southern defense."

The news had little time to register before Damon felt Phelin shoulders tense beneath his hand. He followed Phelin’s icy glare to see Alek enter the main hall from the kitchens. Phelin muttered something Damon didn’t catch,  and then pushed past him to leave the hall in the opposite direction.

Alek approached Damon, though his eyes watched Phelin’s stiff back as he left. "What was that all about?" he asked when he reached Damon.

"He is under a lot of stress, my Lord."

"Maybe. But he’s barely had two words for me in all the time I’ve been back."

"He needs time. Of all of us, he was hurt the most when you left, my Lord. He felt responsible; he was your paxman."

Alek sighed. Damon shifted the conversation as they walked to the fireplace for warmth. "How is your sister?"

Alek brightened some. "Better. Feeling a bit too housebound, though. She’s pretty cranky."

Damon laughed. "And her leg?"

"She can walk with just a cane now. She healed much faster than expected. She pushes herself hard."

Damon controlled a shudder at the thought of the shinaran Master being in the Keep. Alek must have sensed his discomfort.

"It’s alright, Damon. Thedric won't come back from Vescant Hall any time soon."

"Old superstitions are hard to dismiss, my Lord."

Alek shrugged. "I suppose. I’ve always been kind of jealous of Taryn, though."

"I wouldn’t be. For all she can do, there is an equal price to pay in the prejudice she endures, even from me."

Alek smiled at him. "She knows you try your best."

Damon did not answer. He lifted an iron poker and shifted the logs on the hearth fire. It responded with a shower of sparks and a burst of yellow flames.

"Anyway," Alek continued, undaunted, "Taryn should be down here soon. She’s hell-bent on going for a ride while the winter weather holds, and I doubt my mother can stop her."

Damon smiled, picturing mother and daughter arguing over the virtues of a good ride.

#

Taryn bent and tugged again at her riding boot. She winced as pain shot up the scar on her thigh. She could hear her mother clucking in disapproval.

"You shouldn’t be doing this so soon, Taryn. You’ve hardly given your muscles a chance to recover."

Taryn sat up on her bed stool. Her eyes skimmed past her desk, which held stacks of dusty old books and manuscripts she’d been reading and re-reading over the past month. She shuddered at the thought of spending any more time trapped inside with only a window to stare out.  "I’ve barely been out of this room in months."

"Well you don’t have to go all out you know. Why not just spend some time in the library again? You used to love that."

"Look at my desk, mother," Taryn grumbled. "Even I have a limit to how much time I can spend reading."

Celina frowned. "Well I still think you’ll hurt yourself."

Taryn renewed tugging on her reluctant right boot. "If you worry over my pain then why not help me get this unreasonable boot on."

Celina stood and pressed the folds out of her russet dress. "Helping isn’t agreeing. Just so we are clear on that."

Taryn smirked as her mother squatted down to push the black riding boot on for her. The final shove sent a jolt of pain up her leg again, but Taryn masked the shock with a small cough.

"You aren’t fooling anyone, child," scolded her mother.

"It’ll be easier on my leg to ride than to walk. I need to get out of the Keep."

Taryn stood up and tested her weight on the injured leg. She had enough strength for basic leg directions on her horse, and that was all she required. She pulled on a thick black riding cloak and fastened it with a plain silver clasp.

Celina frowned. "And why must you always wear black? A nice burgundy cloak would go so much better with your coloring, dear."

"I like black," said Taryn as she tugged on her matching black riding gloves and grabbed her black cane.

Celina huffed at her as they left Taryn’s room. The walk down the long corridor was highlighted only by the methodic tap of her cane on the wood floor. At least the weather would hold. Taryn recognized the glimmer of sunlight as it spread a dusty ray through the high windows of the main hall. She did not relish the task of hobbling down the staircase though.

Celina continued to pronounce her disapproval of the whole event. "You shouldn’t go alone, you know."

"And who would I take with me? It’s not like I can drag Damon around anymore."

Celina graced her with a calculating stare. "Too bad young Sebran has already left. I’m sure he would have accompanied you."

"Mother." Taryn’s face flushed in irritation. She paused at the head of the staircase, sideling over to the banister on the right. With Celina’s arm looped firmly under hers and her hand clutching the banister, they made their way down the wide staircase to the deserted main hall. Her leg throbbed but Taryn would not admit that to her mother. The idea of someone accompanying her on this jaunt seemed a realistic need though.

"Is there anyone else about, Mother?"

Celina smiled triumphantly. "Well, not that I know of except that desert orphan of Alek’s. I’m sure we can get a guardsman to ride with you, though."

Taryn was surprised by her mother’s tone regarding Sarai. "Is there a problem with her? Does she give headaches to you now?" she asked.

"No, no. Only you have that problem. She's capable enough. Now that she's learned some measure of self-control, maybe your headaches will cease. But really, she belongs in a shinaran Hall. I wanted Thedric to take her back with him, but Alek refused."

The training lessons had been a mild burden on Taryn as well, but unlike her mother, she didn’t want Sarai sent off. For all the discomfort of Sarai’s presence, the woman’s mental touch was unlike anything Taryn had ever felt before. She did not want to think about Sarai leaving the Keep anytime soon. "Well, she could always return to Vescant with me in the spring." Taryn felt her cheeks flush at the thought and turned away from her mother.

"If your brother allows it," said Celina as she pulled on a shawl from the hallway beside the kitchens.

Taryn shivered as they walked out to the stable yards. The presence of a brilliant blue sky and golden sun left her unprepared for the crisp breeze that blew across the yard, tugging at her cloak. Celina left her to approach an older guard standing by the grayed barn doors. Taryn rested against the paddock fence. Behind her, three horses stood in the trampled mud. She guessed the rest were content to stay inside the stables and out of the wind.

Celina called her over and Taryn prepared to swallow her pride. Between the poison-induced fever and the slow healing, she had missed most of the autumn. Better to ride safely with another than risk further injury if she ran into difficulty. Before Taryn could thank the guard for his assistance, she heard the distinctive clip of horse hooves echoing from within the barn. Phelin emerged on a tall grey and white stallion and reined in before them.

He glared at the guard. "Is there a reason you are not at your post, man?"

Taryn interrupted the guard’s stammered reply. "I asked him to ride with me."

"My guards aren’t here to play nursemaid to you."

"Phelin, really," Celina chided, "Must you continue this petulance?"

Phelin’s face blanched. His tone became more respectful. "Sorry, foster-mother. Nevertheless, the guards are posted for good reasons. I’ve gotten disturbing reports from the south." Phelin wheeled his eager horse around and pointed back to the barn. "Alek’s girl is in there, why don’t you ride out with her?" He trotted past them and out toward the main gates.

"Well, I suppose that will do," said Celina with a sigh. "I’ll leave you to it then."

Taryn walked toward the open barn, glad to be out from her mother’s nagging eye, but not eager to spend an hour’s ride with Sarai. Training or no, she was certain the headache would come. If she were honest with herself, Taryn also felt uncomfortable around the other woman. She knew she wanted to feel the touch of Sarai's mind in hers again, but she also worried that the empath would sense Taryn's attraction to her.

Taryn leaned on the splintered barn door. She massaged her leg as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark interior. Doves cooed from the dark rafters above, and rays of sunlight cut across the barn floor from cracks in the aged walls.  As her eyes adapted, she saw Sarai toward the back of the barn, grooming the lone grey mare. In a region famous for paint horses, the solid grey horse stuck out as an obvious outsider. Taryn watched as Sarai maneuvered around the horse. She felt a twinge of jealousy that the lithe woman managed horses far better than she did. It was difficult to tell in the filtered light, but she thought Sarai was smiling as she worked. She could just make out Sarai's voice humming an unfamiliar tune. Taryn’s lips curled slightly in response. She never realized that the other woman had such a sweet voice for music.

It had just registered that she felt no headache, when Sarai turned toward the barn door, and the pressure in Taryn’s head waxed as Sarai’s smile waned. Taryn felt guilty for having watched Sarai without a word, covering her embarrassment with a weak nod. Sarai’s amber eyes caught hers for just a moment, sending a wave of warmth through her before Sarai looked down. That Sarai maintained a subservient attitude bothered Taryn more than the headaches.

"You handle your horse well," Taryn said.

Sarai nodded, continuing to stare at some unknown spot in the dirt between them.

"I was thinking of going for a ride," said Taryn as she walked closer. Sarai glanced at Taryn’s cane.

"Oh, I think I can manage the horse well enough. But I was hoping maybe you’d join me?"

Sarai glanced up at her with an unreadable expression. Taryn felt her cheeks turning pink. What made her think Sarai had any desire to trot around the trails above Atheron with a lame rider who’d been nothing but a stern instructor for a month.

"Yes, my Lady."

"I’m not Lady of Damek anymore, just Taryn."

Sarai still did not look up. "I will tack your horse. Which is it?"

Taryn wanted to argue that Sarai wasn’t her servant, but realistically she could not tack up in her condition. She grudgingly pointed to the black and white horse that had just entered its stall in the barn.  

Sarai worked in silence preparing Taryn's horse for a trail ride. The time gave Taryn the opportunity to admire Sarai’s skills as she tacked and groomed Taryn's horse. Sarai caught her watching and smiled softly. Taryn grinned in response but turned away to hide the flush rising in her cheeks.

After hoisting herself into the saddle, Taryn led the way to the riding path in silence out past the massive stone walls of the Keep and up the trail to the north. Atheron sprawled below them, noisy even at a distance. Smoke rose from a multitude of houses, and Taryn heard the faint sound of marketers harping their wares from the central square. The rhythmic walk of the horse beneath her felt good. The reddish dirt trail wound through thickets of oak and maple, stripped clean of leaves. The occasional patch of grasses on either side of the trail rippled in the wind like waves of green.

Sarai rode behind her. Taryn did not know if it was the benefit of the fresh crisp air but she felt only a mild pressure from Sarai. The woman’s ability to control her mental presence had improved. The trail widened before them and Taryn slowed her horse so that Sarai could ride beside her, but the woman slowed as well, staying to the rear. Taryn stopped completely and waved Sarai forward.

"Are you in pain, my Lady?" asked Sarai as she trotted her horse up beside Taryn.

"I told you I’m not to be addressed as Lady," said Taryn.

 Sarai stayed beside her as Taryn signaled her horse to walk. "Sorry, but you aren’t my servant. We’re equals, you and I."

"No. I am Alek’s."

Taryn fumed at the notion. "Alek doesn’t own you. Did he say that?"

Sarai shook her head.

"I didn’t think so. No one owns anyone in Damek."

She pulled in closer to Sarai, resting a hand on the grey mare. "You are free, Sarai. This isn’t Tramoran. You can go wherever you want, no one would stop you."

Sarai’s startling golden eyes lifted to hers, then turned away. In that moment, Taryn felt a wave of bitterness she’d never felt from Sarai before.

 "Where would I go?" asked Sarai.

Taryn sat speechless a moment. She hadn’t thought of that. Sarai had been taken miles from any family she may have had and from any town or culture that she recognized.

"Well," Taryn stuttered, trying to recover. "My mother thought maybe you could go to Vescant Hall for training. Would you like that?"

Sarai’s gaze sank back down. "Alek did not wish me to go."

Taryn wondered again at her brother’s treatment of Sarai. Why had he kept her around him? Was he attracted to Sarai? That thought disturbed Taryn, but she focused instead on his unfair treatment of her riding companion. "It’s not his decision you know. You have a right to choose for yourself."

Taryn urged her horse forward, signaling Sarai to keep abreast. She could tell her words were having little effect as they rode over another ridge, the Keep now entirely blocked from their view.

"He says he needs me," said Sarai.

Taryn blinked, unsure of what Sarai meant and surprised the woman spoke on her own.

"Needs you for what?

"He fears for his wife and baby."

"But they’re dead. The baby was still-born, and the mother died at childbirth."

"Someone told him they are trapped between death and life."

Someone? Taryn thought. Vasali. Why else would the conniving woman have hung around so long before Alek left? Taryn could only guess what vile things she whispered into Alek’s ear after his wife died.

"But what do you have to do with Alek’s family?" asked Taryn.

"He wishes me to free them." Sarai turned to her, fear and confusion flooding over the tenuous mental link between them. "I do not know how."

Taryn’s expression grew dark. "He can't  expect that from you. This is all nonsense. Vasali sold him an empty sack of lies, and he believed them all."

Sarai’s eyes glistened with tears. "I would help him if I knew how."

Taryn did not know what to say. Obviously Vasali twisted the facts to convince Alek of all this. But why? Did she want him out of Damek for a time?

"You can’t help him, Sarai. Only a trained cleric can converse with the dead, and even then, there is no way to guarantee you’d reach the soul you were searching for."

This seemed to agitate Sarai even further. "Then he will send me away."

If Alek were there, Taryn would have smacked him with her riding crop.

"He can't do that. I said you are free to come and go as you please." Taryn risked exposing her own feelings to look Sarai in the eye. "You are welcome to stay here in the Keep for as long as you like. Alek can’t send you away. I wouldn’t let him."

Sarai smiled at her. Taryn felt the woman’s mental touch as a soft caress. Taryn broke off the contact, letting her eyes wander over the trail. She felt warmer now, much warmer.

The wind picked up as they neared the end of the path. "This trail ends at that wall of granite jutting out of the mountain," said Taryn to break the silence again. "Parts of the Keep were built right into this rock face. The only way to truly go north from the Keep would have been to head in the opposite direction when we left the gates."

"We should go back," said Sarai softly. "You are pale."

Taryn smirked, "I am not as dark-skinned as you, you know."

Sarai smiled at this, and Taryn grinned foolishly herself, glad to have lifted the woman’s spirits.

"Paler than normal, then," said Sarai.

Taryn laughed. "Why Sarai, I think you just insulted me."

Sarai’s eyes grew wide, and Taryn immediately regretted her retort. "I was joking, it’s okay," she added quickly, but too late. Sarai’s head had lowered again.

Taryn wanted to kick herself the entire long, quiet ride back to the Keep.

Taryn hobbled into the main hall, favoring her stiff leg. Celina and Alek watched her approach as Taryn slumped into the space next to her mother on the couch. Sarai followed behind her, carrying a plate of cheese and apples from the kitchen. The woman slid the plate onto a low table and blushed when Alek gave her a small wave from where he tended the fire by the main hall hearth. Taryn felt a chill creep over her that had nothing to do with the outside weather.

"Over done it, haven’t you," aske Celina, glancing up from her needlepoint only long enough for Taryn to register her mother’s disapproval.

Alek came to her defense. "It’ll do her some good to work the leg. How does it feel?"

Taryn wanted to complain about the steady throbbing that radiated from her thigh half way down to her toes, but instead she lied. "It’s not too bad."

Her skills at dissemination were not convincing. Even Sarai peeked at her in disbelief before returning to her normal downward posture and settling on the floor.

Alek left his place by the fire. He bent down, took Sarai by the hand and led her to a side chair. Sarai blushed furiously this time. Taryn wondered if there was more going on between those two than anyone had mentioned. She felt a rising sense of jealousy and considered asking her mother, but Celina had made her dislike for Sarai apparent earlier. Maybe that was why? Her mother would not consider Sarai a suitable wife for her son, as Lord of a province. Taryn wasn’t sure which bothered her more, the thought of Alek and Sarai together, or the idea that her mother would disapprove of the woman.  Taryn felt a twinge of guilt at her own mixed feelings for Sarai. This might be the first real interest in another woman that Alek had shown since his wife’s death, and she should keep her own emotions out of it.

"Alek," Taryn began, "What exactly did Vasali tell you to convince you to leave Damek for so long?"

Alek stood up from his quiet chat with Sarai. For a long moment, Taryn thought he would not answer her at all.

"It wasn’t what she said, really. It was a vision. After Malia died, I kept having this dream. Malia was calling to me, she and my son. He was little, barely walking. They pleaded with me, night after night. I must come to them. They needed me to free them."

Taryn felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck as she listened. Her mother and Sarai watched Alek as well, everyone transfixed by his tale.

"Free them from what?" Taryn asked.

Alek focused on her, his voice breaking. "I don’t know. I still do not know. Vasali came to me one evening, and I told her my dreams. She helped me. Through her, I could talk to Malia. Malia showed me a vision of someone who could free her. She showed me Sarai."

Alek stared at Sarai, but she kept her eyes averted. Taryn ached for them both, but especially for Sarai and the burden Alek was placing on her.

"Alek, why didn’t you tell anyone about this?" asked Celina.

"I didn’t have time. The night Malia showed me Sarai was the night I left. I had to find her."

Taryn was not sure whether to scream or cry. "Vasali manipulated you. She used you."

"But the dreams, I kept having those horrible dreams until Vasali helped me reach Malia."

Celina sat up beside Taryn. "Alek, close your eyes a moment."

Taryn glanced her mother, unsure what she had planned. Alek hesitated a moment and then closed his eyes. Celina shut hers as well. The silence in the room was broken a few moments later by Alek’s hearty guffaw. Taryn shared a confused look with Sarai, the link  between them bringing a rush of Sarai’s fears and self-recrimination for being unable to help Alek.

It’s not your fault, said Taryn.

I must help him.

You can’t. Only time can heal him. Time and acceptance.

Alek and Celina opened their eyes.

"Care to share with the rest of us what’s going on?" asked Taryn.

Alek wiped a tear from his eye as he reined in his laugh. "Well. I just had a rather strange view of Father riding that big roan he loved." Laughter tugged at Alek’s breath once more. "He was wearing a long emerald gown."

Taryn chuckled, realizing her mother had created a false vision and given it to Alek.

Alek sobered a moment later. "But I knew it was you, Mother. You taught me how to feel the presence of a shinaran in my mind."

"True. But if I had done that while you slept, would you realize it was a false dream?"

Alek stared at his hands. "What about the vision? Malia spoke to me."

"With Vasali’s help," Taryn interjected.

He turned to her and then Sarai, who sat quietly, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Alek crumbled, face in his hands. "It all seemed so real."

Sarai was there in an instant to comfort him, stroking his thick black hair. Taryn, surprised by the tinge of jealousy she felt at their shared affection, looked away. Her mother glowered at the pair.

"Well," Celina said abruptly, "It doesn’t explain why Vasali wanted you away from Damek."

Alek sat up. "No, it doesn’t."

Taryn considered Vasali’s motives. "Maybe she wanted you dead. Were you ever attacked?"

"No. Well once, on the way back here. Sarai and I came across some bandits coming over the Trescion pass. They wanted our horses. Got one of them, too." He turned to Sarai beside him. "I thought I’d lost you then. How did you get away from that man?"

Sarai’s hands shook as she spoke, "I do not know. I ran to make one follow me. When he attacked, I…" She did not continue. Alek clasped her small hand in his.

"I can tell the rest," said Taryn, barely above a whisper. All eyes turned to her, but she focused on Sarai.

"I can’t explain how or why it happened, but at that instant, Sarai linked with me."

"What? From so many miles away?" asked Celina shaking her head in disbelief.

"Remember the night I fainted here? It was the next day when we met Alek on the East Road. I was there with Sarai when that man came at her."

"But you killed a man in that dream," Celina stammered. "It can't be true. You obliterated his mind!"

Taryn remembered the vision. Looking at Sarai, she knew now where that raw power had come from that sent the bandit plunging over the cliff, his mind a shattered wreck long before his body succumbed to death. Taryn watched Sarai’s face turn ashen. She must have realized as well what had happened.

Alek broke the uncomfortable silence. "Shinaran morality codes be damned. If this is true then you saved Sarai's life and maybe mine as well."

Taryn envied Alek’s simple acceptance of the events. Flashes of her other dark vision from months ago returned to her. The bloodshed and destruction delivered to her mind by the Revenant. She was responsible for destroying a man’s mind. This was just proven true. Would she follow the path of darkness? Sesanth had not been the only shinaran to abuse his powers. And interwoven through it all was Sarai. She appeared in Taryn’s visions as well as those Vasali implanted in Alek. Vasali had been keenly interested in Sarai, but then why had she attacked the woman?  Taryn’s head throbbed, her own turmoil heightened by Sarai’s untrained presence, now distraught and confused.

"I need rest," Taryn muttered, standing up from the couch. She needed time away from Sarai to think.

Chapter 7

Nighttime settled around her while Taryn prepared for bed. Her thoughts remained a tangled mess, but she resolved to consult a Seer in Atheron. If Maret was in residence, Taryn felt she could confide her Visions with her old friend and Seer. Taryn drifted off to sleep after a time, her mind flittering in and out of mystifying dreams.

She was a child. She heard the crack of a whip just an instant before pain laced across her small bare back. She cried out. The whip cracked again.

"Please, I won't do it again. I'll be good!"

Taryn felt the pain and fear within her dream self build up with untold power. It manifested itself as a brilliant flash of energy, shaking the walls of the hut around her and knocking her assailant down onto the dirt floor. She wrapped her small dark arms around her knees and rocked in silence. The stripes along her back felt warm and wet. She waited for the next strike. Voices around her muttered angrily, calling her names. The other slaves hated her. She was different, unclean – Nihe'n. Tears streamed down her face.

Taryn woke in the dark, her skin damp in the unusually cold room. The dream lingered in her mind, Sarai's dream. It had to be. Sarai as a small slave girl, beaten for an uncontrolled release of power. It was not her fault. Sarai was never trained to harness the powers within her.

Taryn's wild thoughts froze. She felt the distinct presence of another mind in the darkened room. Willing her breathing to a steady slow pace, she feigned sleep. She brushed against the mind with a feather touch and recoiled. It was a man, or more accurately, an assassin by the unbarriered thoughts radiating from his mind.

Taryn thought quickly. She remembered the attack on Sarai on the mountain pass and knew what she had done then to defend her shared self with Sarai. No, she thought. She would not destroy another's mind again. She concentrated a mental image of her room, searching for any kind of weapon. The assassin inched closer. Taryn prayed the man was not shinaran as she sent out a mental plea for help. She felt him very near.

Taryn summoned energy from within her and threw it out as a brilliant flash of light. The assassin staggered, blinded, as Taryn rolled off her bed in the opposite direction. She lunged for the iron poker by the low-burning fireplace and turned to face her opponent.

Fear kept her from using her shinaran skills, but a certain measure of luck was on her side. Taryn had the advantage of a long poker and intimate knowledge of her own room. She managed to elude his first attack by rolling behind the desk he could not see. She heard him curse as he stumbled over her discarded riding boots, but he managed to keep her cornered in the back of her room, away from the door and her open window. Icy wind blew across her. She could not escape him.

A loud bang came from behind the assassin and the door to her room burst open. A flood of light filled the room from around the dark shape of a tall thin figure. Taryn had barely registered Phelin's presence when he stabbed the chest of the stunned assassin. The man sunk to the floor, his hand still clutching an ornate dagger.

"Are you alright?" asked Phelin, his voice deep and raspy as he pulled his sword from the dead man's chest..

"Yes," she replied.

Two guardsmen followed Phelin into her bedroom, weapons drawn.

"Get rid of that," grumbled Phelin, aiming a kick at the still form on the floor.

Taryn stared down at her would-be killer. He was a wiry man, dressed plainly, considering the fancy blade he carried. His empty, glazed eyes stared out from a lean face marked with scars.

Phelin marched over to her window and pulled it closed. "This should have been barred shut."

"How did you know he was in here?" she asked.

Phelin turned toward her, the light from the open door highlighting his features. She was shocked by how tired he looked. "Someone tried to attack Sarai moments ago."

Taryn felt the blood drain from her face. "What happened? Is she hurt?"

Phelin snorted. "What is it with the two of you and that slave girl? Your brother went on a rage when he found out as well."

"It's upsetting that two of us would be attacked within the Keep," she muttered, unsure herself why she felt so protective of Sarai.

"Sarai was unharmed, which is more than I can say for the servant who went in search of her. Katarine is dead."

Taryn sank down on her bed, wrapping her arms about herself. Katarine was dead? "Where was Sarai then?"

"With your brother. You need to talk to him. It's not right for the Lord of Damek to be openly smitten with some desert slave."

"She's not a slave anymore."

Phelin only sniffed as if something foul had entered the room. "Anyway, your mother will want to know you're safe." He turned on his heel and left her in the half-lit room.

She looked at the dark stain left on her carpet where the assassin met his end and shivered. Who would want to kill her or Sarai? She needed go to her mother as well.

Taryn entered her mother's quarters in time to hear her shouting at Phelin about inept house security. Phelin stood before Celina, his tall lanky figure offset by stooped shoulders and downcast eyes. Taryn wanted to sneak back away but her mother had already caught sight of her

"Come in. Taryn, you look so pale. Phelin, how could you let things get so out of hand?" Celina took Taryn by the hand and led her to a rose cushioned chair. She dismissed Phelin with a wave, "All your huffing about security, and where are the guards when we need them? And see to it that Alek sets up another room for Sarai this evening besides his own quarters."

Taryn gazed around the room that her mother kept impeccably neat. The few books were tucked away in a bookcase along the far wall, and all her needlework wrapped in yellow canvas bags kept on a low oak table before the fireplace. Even the candleholders along the wall were kept trim and clean of any wax drippings. She envied her mother's sense of order. When Phelin left, Celina questioned Taryn about the attack.

"He might have come through the window, "said Taryn. "He could have crawled along the outside ledge over from Sarai's room."

Celina fumed. "That woman needs to leave this house."

Taryn cringed from the anger flooding across their tentative mental link.

"Why are you so angry with Sarai? She could have been killed tonight."

"Yes and instead Adele's grand-niece is dead. And I sent the girl there!" cried Celina.

Taryn rested a hand on her mother's arm. "You couldn't have known. I mean assassins inside the Keep? I am sorry, Mother. Katarine was a bright girl."

"Yes," sniffed Celina, "and now I must tell Adele, oh this is dreadful. All because of that girl."

"Not just Sarai," Taryn reminded her, "The assassin came after me as well."

Celina dabbed a white kerchief at her eyes. "Why the two of you? I don't understand." Celina's eyes darkened. "Unless it was staged. Maybe Sarai set this all up to mask her hand in this attempt on your life."

Taryn jerked her hand back. "That's nonsense. Why would she want to hurt me?"

"Why indeed," repeated Celina, "Why is she here at all? Why did Vasali send your brother to find her? She could be a spy for Fasal. She came from Tramoran, for all her Berati desert manners."

Taryn considered this. Her mother's ideas had certain logic, but in her heart, she could not believe the timid, shy Sarai could plot such a horrible crime. "I don't know, Mother. She would have nothing to gain from killing me."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss her. With you dead and her pregnant or married to Alek, she'd be that much closer to controlling Damek or handing it over to Fasal."

"I think you're distraught, Mother. Sarai isn't responsible for all this."

"You and your brother, I just don't know what kind of hold she has over you both."

Taryn felt her face flush. She imagined herself going crimson. "I don't know what you mean," she stammered.

Celina waved at her, "Oh, of course not. Then why do you show more concern over this stray urchin than poor Katarine, murdered this very hour. You are just as bad as Alek. He refuses to leave Sarai's side, you know. They were in the library all night. He was reading stories to her, or so he claims. I do not believe it."

Taryn did not want to consider what Alek and Sarai might have been up to besides reading. A knot tightened in the pit of her stomach when she considered their closeness.

"She's manipulating him, just like Vasali did." Celina turned to Taryn, her eyes glaring. "And you're just as bad. Why am I the only clear-headed one around here?"

Taryn had few friends growing up. No one else in the Keep had her shinaran abilities and that kept her the outsider. She felt a growing bond with Sarai, knowing how the former slave-girl had been kept alone and distrusted so many years. It was foolish, but she felt jealous that Alek could somehow share a closer link with Sarai than Taryn.

Celina interrupted her reverie. "Sarai must go to Vescant and soon. Thedric can handle her. Or ship her back to those nomad tribes she came from."

"You can't be serious." Taryn tried to control the shakiness in her voice. "Her own family sold her into slavery."

"Yes, and it makes you wonder why."

"Because she was different, that's why." Taryn's voice rose in anger. "Because she was a shinaran child with no one around her who understood."

"Taryn, really. And she is not shinaran, I'm sure of it."

"Then what is she?"

"I don't know. Maybe you should have asked Vasali when you had the chance."

Taryn closed her eyes. It had been a very long day and night, and dueling words with her mother was far too draining. She heard her mother's masked sniffle beside her.

"I don't know why Sarai is here," said Taryn after a long pause. "It's possible Vasali set her upon us to cause trouble. But Vasali herself tried to kill Sarai, remember?"

Celina acquiesced. "I suppose Sarai's not evil. Nevertheless, I do not like having her around here. Trouble follows her like a foal to its dam."

Taryn sighed. "I have to agree. Maybe she would be better off at Vescant. They can delve more safely into her abilities there." And Taryn could travel to Vescant with Sarai.

Celina sighed. "This night as been just too much. It's time for bed. You'll stay here for the night, of course." Celina did not wait for an answer, but stretched and walked through the inner door off to the right. Taryn walked around the outer room, snuffing out the candles as she went. She left the darkened room behind as she joined her mother.

#

Sunlight filtered through the draped windows as Taryn sat in the outer rooms of the Seers Hall in Atheron. It had taken her a week before the uproar over the attacks had settled enough for her to ride into town. Even then, Alek insisted she take two guards with her. They stood silent sentry beside her in the otherwise empty room. Tapestries hung from the walls around her, each depicting a lone figure in golden robs, kneeling on cushions and surrounded by misty scenes. Taryn recognized one painting showing a Revenant, its eyes burning with fire. She shivered, even in the over-heated room. One of the guards turned to her, but he remained silent.

A door opened at the far end of the room, and a young apprentice came out, dressed in light gold robes. He stopped in front of her, held back by the presence of her guards. "Maret is ready to see you now," said the boy, his young voice cracking as he spoke.

Taryn stood up and signaled for the guards to remain. "I will be alone in Maret's quarters, and under no risk." She followed the apprentice through the door and into a room darkened by thick drapes covering the two opposing windows. Scented candles burned in holders along the wall.

"You may go now, Herrod," said a resonant voice from somewhere on the floor. As Taryn's eyes adjusted, she could make out a figure seated cross-legged on a pile of cushions in the center of the room.

Taryn waited until the door closed behind her, and then spoke. "I don't recall you having such a flare for the dramatic at Vescant, Maret."

Maret chuckled. "Apprentices. They have to be suitably impressed by our mystical ways, you know. It's all standard protocol." Maret stood up and pulled the nearest drape open, letting in the weak afternoon light.

Maret looked much the same as she had in their school days. She kept her wavy brown hair cut short, just below her ears, and her deep golden robes revealed nothing of the thin muscular body Taryn knew lay beneath them.

"Is this a casual meeting between old friends, or do you have something else in mind?" asked Maret.

Taryn felt Maret watching her closely as she answered. "I am seeking your professional advice, Maret."

"That's too bad," said the Seer, her face revealing only a brief indication of her disappointment.

"I'm sorry I haven't come to see you sooner," said Taryn.

Maret held up her hand, "No need for explanation. We went our separate ways when I left Vescant to come here." She settled back on her cushions, indicating Taryn should join her.

"What can I help you with?" Maret asked.

"I had a Vision."

"Really?" Maret leaned toward Taryn, her eyes shining with interest. "You didn't show any clerical leanings while I was at Vescant."

"And I still don't. I'm not sure how I got this Vision, except maybe that a cleric was visiting in the halls above me." Taryn explained the appearance of the Revenant and the barrage of dark images it had shared with her.

Maret whistled softly and leaned back when Taryn finished.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Taryn, anxious to here someone else's opinion now that she'd broken her long silence.

"Revenants are quite rare. But why didn't you seek out a cleric for this? Seers have very little interaction with Ethereals?"

Taryn grimaced. "Let's just say we've had some serious problems with clerics at the Keep. Besides, my brother spent considerable time tracking down the dark girl in my Vision. He consulted a number of Seers to find her. And the nature of the Vision seemed, well, prophetic."

"And thus ask a Seer to interpret, makes sense." Maret stared at the flickering candles a moment before continuing. "It seems obvious that some battle comes to Atheron, but there is no way of knowing how soon. It could be tomorrow or thirty years from now."

"But I saw Sarai, and she didn't look older. Even my mother didn't seem much older."

"True, but Visions just don't follow a neat pattern. You may have seen clips from tomorrow intermingled with what may happen years from now." Maret turned to her. "I can attempt a Search for you, if you think it will help."

"A Search?"

"Yes. It's draining on both of us, but basically I focus a time search through you, seeing what events may occur in your personal future." Maret blushed. "The results can be vague or intimately detailed. There's no controlling what we See."

Taryn caught her meaning. Her own face felt hot in response. "I understand. How do we proceed?" She remained seated while Maret gathered incense and candles and placed them in a circle around the cushions. The combined smoke filtered around Taryn as she breathed in the woody scent. Maret sat beside her, taking Taryn's hands in her own. Taryn's mind felt as foggy as the air around her.

"I will link with you, and then together we will initiate the Search."

Taryn nodded. Her mouth felt dry, but she needed to do this. If she was destined to become as evil as Sesanth, this Search would hopefully show that path. She didn't voice her own fears about Sesanth to Maret, but they were as much a part of this visit as any need to understand Sarai's presence in Atheron. As their link deepened, Taryn felt a sudden tug, as if something pulled at her from her stomach. She felt as if she were being dragged through a gray tunnel. While only lasting an instant, Taryn felt as though she'd traveled a great distance.

Her eyes focused on an image before her. She stood on an aged wooden dock, looking out on a white crested sea. A woefully small ship lay at anchor in the harbor beyond the dock, rocking with the swell of waves. Taryn held a small girl-child in her arms as she watched her foster-brother lower himself into a dinghy tied to the dock. His blonde hair lay about his face in matted tangles, and his eyes were masked with dark circles. Their eyes met for an instant, and Taryn felt a pang of regret.

Phelin's eyes shifted to the child in her arms. Taryn looked down on the girl as well. She couldn't be more than two or three and her blue eyes wandered around the quiet harbor. The girl's reddish-gold hair curled around her small face, contrasting her light brown complexion.

Someone stood beside her, but as Taryn turned to see, she felt the pull from her middle again. She tried to resist as the image faded into gray once more.

Taryn felt Maret's hands slip out of hers as she opened her eyes. A sheen of sweat covered Maret's forehead. Taryn felt tired and sweaty.

"Did you recognize anything?" asked Maret, wiping her face on a sleeve.

"Yes and no. The man is my cousin, but I don't recognize the harbor we were in, nor the child I was holding."

"Any similarities to the Revenant's Vision?"

Taryn sighed. "No." And no hints about her possibly dark future, she wanted to add, but kept her thoughts to herself.

"Sorry," said Maret. "I can't control what a Search will reveal."

"I understand. Thank you for trying," said Taryn as she stood. Her legs felt weak beneath her as she walked to the door.

"Maybe next time, you'll come by for a more social visit?" asked Maret, smiling.

The memories of their time together as lovers tugged at Taryn's heard as returned the grin, "Yes, I'll try." She let the door close behind her. Her two silent sentries took up position beside her as she walked out of the Seers Hall, alone once again with her fears.

#

Damon stood next to his brown and white stallion, staring out at the gray ocean. He ignored the rain pelting down on his uncovered head. Sebran of Westeron backed his mount away from the cliff edge and waited beside Damon.

"How many do you count?" asked Damon.

"Four so far have come around the cape. There could be more."

Damon looked away. "Four is enough." He swung up onto his horse and circled around Sebran. Only the brown mustache, dripping occasionally onto his rain-drenched leather tunic offset Sebran's ashen features.

"Send your fastest rider to Atheron," Damon ordered.

"Wait. There's another coming around the cape."

Damon peered across the white-capped ocean. A fifth galleon drifted into view. He studied the distant vessel. Black and orange waved from the forward mast.

"Inform Phelin that Fasal himself leads the invasion fleet," said Damon, his voice flat, emotionless. He urged his horse down a muddy slope and headed back to his command post. A small standing army awaited his orders. They would all be busy very soon.

#

Taryn sat in the library, rubbing idly at her scarred thigh. The leg had ceased to ache except on long walks, but she'd gotten into the habit of massaging the muscles regularly. Stacks of old books surrounded her. The weak morning sun cast dusty streaks of light across the table before her as she studied another entry on the exploits of Sesanth, lord of Damek. His reign had been short, some seven years, but the depravations he inflicted in that time astounded her. In one particularly brutal seven-day, he set three towns to the torch for failure to meet his levy on time.

Those were not the entries that interested Taryn the most. It was the details of his shinaran experiments that caused her to shudder. Sesanth had a penchant for torture in any form. Her mother had been right; a skilled healer could warp living flesh to grotesque abnormalities, and by all accounts, Sesanth had been a healer of extraordinary measure. One gruesome account included a faded sketch of a prisoner who'd had his hand smashed by a hammer and then wrenched into a misshapen claw.

Taryn jumped at the sound of the library door opening. She slammed the book shut and slid it under a pile of others, her heart thudding out a guilty beat within her chest. She peered over her stack of books to see her mother approach.

"Find anything of interest, dear?"

"No," Taryn lied. "There aren't any credible accounts of demon sightings going back past the unification of Damek."

Celina dragged another chair to the table and sat down. "I'm not surprised. Anyone reporting such a thing would be thought mad. I'd not have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it."

Taryn pushed back from the table and rubbed her eyes. She hadn't really been looking too hard for demon reports.

Celina picked up the top book in a pile, "Can I help you look?"

"If you like. I've been through these already," said Taryn as she heaved up a pile of books, including the accounts of Sesanth. Taryn filed the books back onto their shelves. Her task was interrupted by a rapid knock on the library door. She turned to see a young house servant rush into the library, nearly tumbling the remaining stack of books when the girl skidded to a stop before Celina.

"You must come to the council chamber at once," she exclaimed, her cheeks pale despite her rushed approach.

Celina grazed her with a cold glance. "Is that any way to present your self, Heda?"

Heda hiccupped and gave a nervous curtsey. "Your pardon, Lady, but Master Phelin is in a state. He's sent runners for all the councilors. Will you come?"

Celina placed her book back on the table with the grace available only to those accustomed to years of social superiority. Taryn muffled her laugh in a sharp cough. After Heda made a hasty retreat, Taryn asked her mother if she delighted in frightening the younger staff.

"Well they have to learn from someone, don't they? And you certainly aren't up to the task."

Suitably berated, Taryn offered her hand to help Celina up, "Shall we go then, Mother? Perhaps Heda was right and the wolves are at the door."

Celina huffed in response as they left the library and headed down the shadowed hallway to the council chambers. The poor light filtering through the window at the end of the hallway suggested storm clouds had moved in to cover the faint winter sunlight. Taryn surveyed the council chambers as she entered. Phelin, Adele, and Gabrielle were there, as well as a short young man in riding clothes, his boots dropping bits of mud and grass on the black stone tiles. Adele and Gabrielle held the corners of a large yellow parchment that Phelin leaned over, studying carefully. Torches flickered along the walls to enhance the dim light from the high windows.

Taryn took a seat next to Gabrielle, peering over the other woman's arm to see the detailed map of Damek drawn on the parchment.

Phelin glanced up, taking in her and Celina in one sweep. "Have you seen Alek?"

She felt a moment's panic that Alek had deserted them again before Celina replied.

"He's gone down to the Guild Hall in Atheron. Hort has some news on hideous creatures gathering in the Velek Forest."

Phelin snorted. "Waste of time. My runners should bring them both here shortly then."

"What is this all about?" asked Taryn.

Phelin returned to his map, jabbing a finger in the direction of the young man who stood in the corner. "That's Sebran's messenger. Ships were spotted off the southern cape two days ago."

Taryn paled. The attack from Tramoran they had feared for so many years. She clenched her fists to rid herself of the Revenant's visions of battle and bloodshed that swirled in her mind. "How many ships?"

Phelin continued to scribble notes on a black slate-board as he studied the map.

Adele answered for him. "Five galleons in total were seen, including presumably Fasal himself in the flagship."

Celina exploded in rage. "That beast of a man. Curse his jealousy of Brion. And curse your grandfather for creating this insanity!"

Taryn stared at her mother as if she had become unstable herself. She could not understand what her father or grandfather had to do with Fasal's invasion, but perhaps there had been some earlier political battle in her grandfather's day. She was distracted from questioning her mother when Phelin began muttering aloud.

"Five armed galleons, can't have more than two battle squads each, so ten fighting squads. Likely no mounted troops aboard. He'd send them overland."

Taryn leaned back in her chair in shock. She saw the color drain from her mother's round cheeks as well. Such vast numbers, all bent on the destruction of Damek.

"Do we have enough guards to fight that large a force?" she asked.

"I sent the bulk of our forces south with Damon. Thankfully Sebran sent word early of rumors about these ships preparing in Tramoran Bay. The sea approach is very narrow and should be easy enough to defend. I'm more worried about Fasal's mounted forces. He has a lightning strike cavalry, but where will he position them? That's the real question."

All signs of Phelin's earlier resentment seemed gone now that he was fully engaged in Damek's defense. Taryn marveled at the sharpness with which he approached the battle strategies.

Phelin slammed his fist hard on the table, rattling the items on it as well as everyone else in the room. He pushed himself away from his calculations and the map. "We need more forces. I should have called up conscripts weeks ago."

Celina stood by Phelin, a hand on his stooped shoulder. "You have prepared us well. If you need more men, we will call them up from the towns and villages." Celina turned Phelin toward her, her brown eyes fixed on his.

"This is what you were trained for, foster-son. The defense of Damek. Had Brion lived, it would have been different. You would be leading the liberation force for Tramoran against Fasal the Beast."

Phelin's mouth hung open as Celina continued. "It is what Brion wanted for you, that you would free Damek from the threat of Fasal at our borders and rule in Tramoran as ally to Damek."

Silence descended on the chamber room as Phelin remained slack-jawed. Taryn understood now why Phelin had been kept out of the ruling seat. It would have worked well. Perhaps it still could if Phelin beat back Fasal's forces. Taryn could not fathom the emotions shifting across Phelin's gaunt face. The revelation stunned him certainly, but he seemed disturbed rather than honored by Brion's plans. His fists clenched and unclenched but his eyes remained unfocused. Taryn's own quiet shock was disrupted when the thick oak door swung wide, letting in Alek and Hort and the scent of fresh mud and wet leather into the council chambers. Alek shook off his riding cloak, to which clung a handful of snowflakes fading into water droplets.

"Half of Atheron is in a panic," boomed Alek as he led Hort toward the cluttered table.

Phelin's face clouded over again as he jabbed a finger at Alek's broad chest. "If that's true then you've only got your own loose-lipped staff to blame."

Alek quieted down. "It is true then? Fasal is on the move?"

"Yes," said Phelin as he shifted by Alek and Hort to shut the chamber door once again. He stood by the map while the rest of the local council members took their seats. He cleared his throat once and addressed the room.

"Fasal has begun the invasion of Damek. We have enough guards under Damon to hold against his sea forces to the south, but we have no news on his cavalry. I want those conscripts." Phelin grazed each councilor with his icy stare.

Alek spoke up. "Where would you use them? And how do you propose to train farmers and tradesmen for battle against Fasal's standing army?"

"They will march south and build a series of barricades against riders along the main southern routes to Atheron." Phelin punctuated his speech with a series of jabs at the map before him. "Fasal's cavalry will likely come overland around the cape from Tramoran. We slow them there until Damon's forces can be switched from the shoreline defense to take on Fasal's cavalry. The conscripts will remain as a rearguard fallback only."

Adele's scratchy voice joined the discussion. "What of the border guards along the Velek Forest? The guards are few and the border only a day's ride from Atheron."

Taryn did not expect the dark glare Phelin returned to Adele.

"The forest itself is our border guard," Phelin growled. "I can not spare men to placate an old woman's fears."

Adele seemed unaffected by the insult, but Taryn felt ashamed for Phelin as his harsh words echoed within her.

"I for one share that old woman's fears," Alek retorted. "Hort here as been relaying some disturbing stories from his guild journeymen."

Phelin sneered. "As you wish, my Lord. I will send a rider to border stations for reports."

"Thank you," Alek replied. "But I will go myself. I wish to see first hand what problems are surrounding the forest."

Phelin seemed more disturbed than ever. "That's uncalled for. Do you question my abilities to defend this province?"

Alek held up his hands, "No foster-brother. I wish to investigate Hort's reports. There have been too many attacks by unknown beasts in that area."

"Stray bears from the mountains," Phelin snorted.

"Perhaps. But it's time I found out for myself what my people have been seeing."

Phelin was not placated. "You should not be leaving Atheron. This is your place and where your people expect you."

Alek smiled, "My people barely know I am back. I've only been as far as Atheron for months now. It will do me good to get out for a day."

"It's not safe," Phelin hissed.

Hort spoke up, his deep voice instilling a sense of calmness. "I will accompany him. I know where my journeymen have traveled of late."

Phelin spoke through clenched teeth. "Fine, as you wish. Do I have approval to order up conscripts?"

All present agreed. Phelin rolled up his map. With a final glare at Alek, he turned on his heels and marched out of the room, swinging the door so hard it banged against the outside wall. A tremor ran along the wall, rattling the mounted torches.

"He doesn't much like to be disagreed with," Alek said lightly. "Anyway, Taryn, I'd like you to come with us if you think you're up for the ride. If these beasts are demon-spawn as you think, we may need your help."

"Are you sure it's wise to leave the Keep?" Celina asked. Her face had not recovered its color since hearing of Fasal's attack. Taryn wondered if her own face expressed the trepidation she felt inside.

"It is only a day. And though I would never admit this to Phelin for fear he would resign in protest, I want to see for myself the state of the Velek defenses." He smiled at Celina, "We will be safe and back within a day and a half." He slid his chair back from the table, "Shall we pack and go then?"

Taryn stood and surveyed the room. The faces surrounding her varied from the quiet acceptance of Adele to the nervous darting eyes of Gabrielle. Taryn felt as if in a dream herself, the events unfolding around her seemed unreal. She was unsure whether a day on the road would calm her rattled nerves or send her into a panic when she found herself beyond the protective walls of the Keep. Alek and Taryn left the chambers together. Hort headed back to Atheron to prepare for the trip, agreeing to meet them on the East Road by noon.

Taryn changed into black wool breeches. She pulled on a soft flannel under-tunic, and then a long slate over-tunic which would reach to the top of her riding boots. As she sat on the bed, tugging on her boots, she felt the familiar gentle touch of Sarai's mind. Taryn looked up as she heard a knock on her door.

"Come in."

Sarai walked just inside the door and stood silent, playing with the embroidered cuffs of her dress. Taryn didn't need empathic abilities to sense the woman's distress.

"What is it?" she asked.

Sarai looked up. "There is much fear, in the castle."

"Keep," Taryn corrected. She stood up, pushing her heels down into the boots. She could feel Sarai's own fears transmitting across the mental link they seemed always to share when near each other.

"We are under attack," said Taryn. Fear mixed with anger rippled across Sarai's expression. Taryn felt the other woman scrutinize her wardrobe.

"You go to fight?" she asked.

"No. Alek and I need to investigate something near the forest. We're going away from the troubles in the south."

Panic flashed in Sarai's amber eyes. You are leaving me?

Taryn closed the distance between them. No, not at all. We will be gone only a day or so.

Sarai's fingers worked frantically at the edges of her cuffs. Taryn reached out and separated Sarai's hands, holding them in her own. The link they shared intensified. Taryn's thoughts and emotions mixed with Sarai's, but this time without the confusing dual vision. It seemed a natural mingling, stabilized by their physical contact. She felt the intensity of Sarai's loneliness, a mirror to her own sense of isolation outside the halls of Vescant. Taryn felt the softness of Sarai's small hands in hers. Her feelings projected across the shared link, and Sarai responded with a gentle caress across her mind.

The heat of her own desire burned in Taryn's cheeks. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she pulled away from Sarai. Just as the link dissolved she felt a spark of response in the other woman, whose own cheeks turned crimson under her dark skin. They pulled apart, each letting their arms drop.

"I should go," Taryn whispered.

Sarai looked up, a faint smile curling her red lips, "Yes."

Taryn walked past Sarai and pulled her black cloak off a hook by the door. Sarai watched her. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Taryn felt again that faint sensual reaction in Sarai.

Be careful.

I will. Taryn drew her gaze away from Sarai and headed down the hall, her cheeks flushed despite her attempts to calm herself.

Chapter 8

Taryn let the rhythmic gate of her horse calm her as she listened to Hort's reports.

"We had two separate farriers come back with blackened patches of skin on their shoulders and back. Some kind of flesh-eaters attacked them."

Taryn's stomach knotted. She had been regaled with tales of this sort for most of the day, and her fortitude waned with the setting sun. A frigid wind blew down from the north, though the sky had cleared since morning. Taryn considered how much worse this long ride would be had it continued to snow. Small mercies, she thought as she scanned the horizon. Alek rode a few paces ahead, his black stallion unwilling to keep at a walk for long. The road sloped gently upward and Alek came to a stop at the top of the rise. His horse snorted impatiently, its steaming breath evident even from Taryn's distance. She watched as Alek shaded his eyes to look out to the east.

"Do you see the forest?" Taryn asked as she rode up to join him.

"Yes, but look," he said pointing, "There's a haze hanging over it."

She followed Alek's gaze. The Velek Forest appeared on the horizon, its towering green trees distinct even at this distance. They were closer than she thought. Taryn frowned. Above the green canopy hung a dull layer of brown, south of their current path.

Hort reined in next to Alek on the other side. "Forest fire?" he suggested.

Alek circled his impatient steed. "Out of season. Possible though. We should investigate anyway."

Alek gave free rein to his horse, and they broke into a gallop down the hill, breaking off to the right across the grasslands. Taryn and Hort galloped in pursuit, their horses less than enthusiastic about the quickened pace.

Alek drew to a halt within the edge of the forest. Taryn and Hort trotted up to him a moment later, and they all dismounted. Taryn sniffed the air. A murky haze hung over the forest but she did not smell smoke.

"If it were a fire, surely the horses would have sensed it by now," she said.

"Possibly. We are upwind of whatever it is," said Hort.

They left the horses loosely tethered to low tree branches, within reach grass. The horses bent to graze as the three of them hiked into the thickening forest. After a time, the woods around them changed dramatically. The undergrowth had been destroyed in wide swaths, the land trampled.

"How far to the nearest guard house?" asked Taryn.

"There should be one at the end of the road we were on and another five miles south" Hort replied. "Too far away for this to be a mess left behind by the guards."

"Look here," said Alek who had wandered further into the woods.

Taryn walked around a thick grove of ancient trees to stand beside her brother. The scene before her sent a chill through her body. She leaned against the scratchy bark of the nearest ancient sentinel as she looked around. A zigzag line of bare earth stretched out before her where the impenetrable forest should have been. Enough trees remained that the area would seem as thick with trees and bushes as the rest of the forest, so long as you were not up close to it.

"Some disease of tree or soil, you think?" asked Hort.

Taryn reached out mentally, seeking any sign of the sorts of demon beasts Hort had described. The area was devoid of animal life. Then she felt something shifting to their left. Taryn signaled them to silence, pointing toward the nearest end of the jagged treeless path. Alek and Hort drew weapons simultaneously. Alek held a sword, and Hort cocked his bow and arrow. Taryn pulled out her own short dagger and grasped it tightly, her palms sweating despite the cold winter breeze. Why had she left her sword strapped to the horse?

Alek padded quietly to the left as Hort moved around toward the right to encircle whatever lay within the patch of growth. Before they got within ten paces of the brush, something bolted, heading back into the thickness of the forest. Hort let loose one arrow, and their prey collapsed to the ground. When Taryn joined them she saw not a beast, but a young man lying on his side with an arrow through the back. The man coughed.

"Ah, what have I done," said Hort.

Alek cut off Hort's lament. He stood over the injured stranger, pointing his sword at the man's chest. "Where are the rest?" Alek demanded.

When the man gave no answer, Alek kicked him in the ribs. "Where?" he shouted.

The man moaned and coughed, spitting blood on the brown soil. "Too late," he croaked. "The road is done."

Alek plunged his sword down. In one quick motion, the man was dead. Taryn stared at her brother in undisguised horror as he cleaned his blade on the dead man's leather tunic.

"This is Fasal's grand plan," Alek growled.

Taryn scanned the area again and realization rumbled through her mind. A road through the forest! This must have taken a year or more to complete.

Hort stammered, "How could Fasal manage this without anyone finding out?"

Alek sheathed his sword and marched past them both. "Demons, or men dressed as demons to frighten or kill any who found this."

"No," Taryn countered as she followed her brother back to the horses. "I've seen those demons first-hand. Some at least are real."

Alek leapt into his saddle in one jump. "Nevertheless, Fasal is here and we have to tell the borderguards." He turned to Hort. "Can you ride to the border guard to the south? Taryn and I can warn the guard house by the road, if they haven't all been slaughtered by now."

Hort nodded agreement.

Taryn's heart thundered. Fasal had a clear route to Damek and few to defend against him. She struggled into her own saddle, her hands and feet not cooperating with her mind's call for speed. Alek galloped north. She swung her horse north as Hort's hoof beats pounded away to the south.

#

The morning sun had yet to caress the tops of the towering conifers as Lord Fasal checked the leathers on his stirrup and girth one last time. The roan stallion beneath him snorted its impatience with the temporary rest. Fasal slid his boots back into the stirrups as he surveyed the battle force around him. A line of riders extended before and behind him, three abreast along a winding makeshift path through the forest. Commander Josep waited on his right atop a large bay, and Fasal's standard bearer on his left had unfurled the black and orange flag, symbol of Fasal's dual rule over Beht and Tramoran. He idly considered how the blue of Damek would combine with black and orange for his new flag.

Fasal shook off his reverie as he peered through the forest. On either side he could see only the thick natural growth of the forest. He turned to Joseph. "How many paths did you cut?"

"Eight total, my Lord, spaced between Damek's guard houses."

Fasal's smile widened. Eight tracks of mounted men heading toward Damek and none to oppose them, if his spies were accurate in their accounts. It would take time to regroup on Damek's side of the forest, but their unopposed entry into the province would be worth it. The column ahead began moving. Fasal strapped his golden helmet on his head and drew his long sword out of its glittering scabbard. The column broke into a trot, and Fasal tapped heels to his horse's side.

The sun crested over the treetops to sparkle on a multitude of weapons as his cavalry broke through the last mile of the Velek Forest. Brion be damned, Damek would be his.

#

Taryn roamed around the inner yard of the Keep, watching the frantic preparations for battle as if they were a distant story unfolding around her. Their effort to warn the border guards proved futile. The guardhouses were empty, save for the few bodies of loyal guardsmen who must have been betrayed by Fassel's traitorous guards. Somehow the reality of Fasal's invasion could not seep through her barrier of denial. This was her home and her family's home for generations. She stopped to let a hurried rancher herd a handful of brown and black cows in through the East Gate. Orders were shouted from the battlements atop the wall and answered by a gaggle of workers below. The massive iron and oak gate would be lowered within the hour.

Taryn continued her directionless amble, past the sealed granaries, two large cisterns, and a confusion of loose hens scrambling away from the painful boots of the workers, guardsmen, and Keep staff running about the inner yard. As her thoughts focused on one obstinate hen insistent on pecking at fallen bits of grain amongst the tumult of activity around it, Taryn nearly stumbled into Alek and Phelin. Not wanting to be pulled into the rushed preparations herself, she hung back in the shadows of a side entrance to the Keep. Their voices managed to penetrate her attempts at isolation.

"We need the conscripts here, Phelin."

"No. The Keep is a fortress. My guards are enough to keep Fasal at bay. I want the conscripts blocking the East Road."

"Fasal's cavalry will slaughter them."

"It will give us time to get Damon's riders back here for a rear-guard attack."

Taryn heard a third voice enter the fray.

"My Lord, the livestock paddocks are full. Most of Atheron have fled north to the mining towns or further west."

"Good," Alek answered. "Take a handful of guards into Atheron and bring back whatever you can of dried goods."

A moment's pause before Alek grumbled, "I will personally skin Farrell if I ever find him! How did he ever bribe his border-guards into letting Fasal to our doorstep?"

Taryn had heard more than she cared for. She slipped into the side door and trudged up the back spiraling staircase. She didn't stop on the second floor landing, but continued on up to the watchtower that stood at the highest point in the Keep. She heard quiet voices from within the watchtower as she approached. She waited on the stairs, considering returning back down to the lower floors. The voices of Sarai and Celina floated to her from above. Her mother must have continued Sarai's training sessions even amongst the fevered preparations for siege. Taryn envied her mother's ability to remain on track no matter the crazed world around her.

Taryn hadn't seen Sarai since their brief, confusing parting before her trip to the forest. Before she could turn back down the stairs, Taryn felt the familiar warm touch that signaled Sarai had noticed her presence. A wave of guilt passed over Taryn for hanging about in shadows. She resolved to spend the rest of the day in her quarters when she heard Celina berating Sarai for not focusing. Taryn sighed. She should expose herself as the disruption to Sarai's concentration.

She walked up the remaining stairs and past the threshold of the watchtower. The circular room remained chilly despite the red-hot coals burning in the central brazier. The wide expanse of green land leading to Atheron was visible from the eastern windows. The southern road stretched out like a thin brown ribbon threading its way through the rocky hillside and out of view. The remaining windows faced into the Keep, looking out over the slate rooftop and past it to the granite outcrop that protected the Keep from the north and west.

"Can't you stay focused, girl?" asked Celina.

Taryn shuffled into the room. Her mother twisted in the chair and greeted her with a short smirk.

"Well," sighed Celina, "That explains the loss of focus. Maybe you will have better luck training her than I."

Taryn actually thought she saw a blush creep up Sarai's dark cheeks before tendrils of coppery hair slid over the woman's ducked head like a closing drape. Celina noticed the flush as well. Taryn swallowed as her mother's expression turned cold.

Celina glowered at Sarai. Keep your mind on your work, and not on my children.

Now Taryn felt her own cheeks burning. "Mother!"

Celina jumped. "How did you hear that? I linked only to Sarai."

It was only then that Taryn realized she heard her mother's thoughts through Sarai's mind and not her own. "I don't know," she stammered. "I guess I've always been able to see through her mind. It's just gotten easier to separate her thoughts from my own now that she's been trained some."

"And is it the same for you?" asked Celina as she turned back to Sarai.

"Yes."

"And you both are linked all the time?"

"When we are close, yes," said Taryn.

Celina pushed out of her chair and paced by the west window, passing through the last golden haze of afternoon sun. "I've never heard of such a thing," she said at last.

Taryn gave a conspiratorial wink to Sarai that threatened to break the woman's quiet composure. Their shared abilities might be extraordinary, but Taryn enjoyed the closeness of the link. She basked in the touch of Sarai's mind, feeling once again that echo of desire that matched her own.

Footfalls echoed up the spiral stairwell. Taryn watched the open doorway behind Sarai as Alek appeared from the darkness. His grim features lightened as he looked to Sarai, but she had yet to realize his presence. As Sarai turned to see Alek, her eyes widened, and she slammed down the barriers between her and Taryn.

Taryn winced. This was the first time Sarai had forced Taryn away from her. Obviously the woman could shut her out, but the affect was painful. Alek stepped toward Sarai but when she lowered her head, his smile waned. "The East and South Gates have been shut. Phelin tells me we have enough supplies within the Keep to last the winter."

"Surely you don't expect this battle to go on that long?" Celina asked.

"No. Riders have been sent for Damon and the southern conscripts. Fasal is welcome to camp at our doorstep until they arrive. We'll drive him all the way back to Beht if we have to."

Taryn should have felt relieved by her brother's bravado. Instead her mind swirled with dark images of bloodshed within the Keep. She was grateful Sarai had closed the link so thoroughly; she would never share this bloody vision of the future with her.

Celina's voice broke through Taryn's inner fright. "So my house is a mess of stolen sacks of food and the last dregs of Atheron." Celina grabbed Alek by the sleeve, "Show me where you've stacked all this."

Taryn and Sarai sat in silence for a few moments after the other two left. Sarai shuffled forward in her seat. "I should go help."

"No, please. I can't go back down there yet. And I don't want to be alone right now." She wanted Sarai to lower her barriers again. Somehow the separation made her feel all that more isolated.

Sarai watched Taryn with bright amber eyes. Sadness played across her face. "It is upsetting to you?"

Taryn sighed, "Yes. So many strangers and near-strangers are crowding the Keep now. And a force of armed men want to take my home and destroy my family."

"It has always been your home, this place?"

"Yes, of course. I suppose it doesn't feel like home to you." Taryn regretted her selfish words. "Do you remember any home or family?"

"I have no family. I can remember many owners."

Taryn remembered her nights of shared dreams with Sarai. She gently prodded, "No memories at all? Of a mother who played with you… before the Nomads came?"

Sarai stared toward the window where twilight crept over the rolling hills. "It is only a dream," she stuttered at last.

Taryn wanted to slap herself for the insensitive knave she was. She slid out of her chair to kneel before Sarai, feeling at a loss for words. Taryn wanted to tell her the dreams were real, that Sarai had a mother once who loved her deeply. But to admit that would mean admitting the other dreams were real as well, the dreams where Sarai the child was ripped from her mother's arms by rough hands and forced to listen to the screams as her mother was burned alive for some blasphemy.

She mated outside the tribe, with the Unclean.

Sarai, I'm so sorry. It must have been horrible.

It is the Law. She had to be saved, purified from the unclean.

Taryn thought she might get ill. But they didn't… didn't try to purify you?

Sarai's mood darkened. I am nothing. I did not exist to the tribe, only property to sell like the other contents of my mother's hut.

Taryn sank back on the cold stone floor, hugging her knees. The tribes of Berat shunned all other provinces, but she never knew the harsh laws that kept them in isolation.

"Riders approach," Sarai whispered.

Taryn's mind churned with remembered bits of Sarai's past.

"Riders approach, from the South," Sarai repeated, pointing to the window she'd been staring through.

Taryn's thoughts locked back on the present dangers. She walked to the southern window but could see little in the near dark.

"One rider, two at most," said Sarai, who joined her at the window.

Taryn peered into the dusk, scanning for the rider. She was distracted by the closeness of Sarai at her shoulder. The woman smelled different. Not unpleasant, but somehow more earthy than anyone else. Another uniqueness to Sarai that Taryn assumed came from her desert origins. The scent drew Taryn's attention away from the window. She could sense Sarai's tension through the woman's rigid controls, blocking any stray thoughts from escaping.

Why do you build such barriers around me now? Taryn asked.

Sarai paled beside her and took a step backward.

Taryn apologized, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you."

"We should go. The rider is Master Damon," Sarai muttered as she backed away further.

"Yes, of course."

Sarai turned and fled down the spiral staircase. Taryn followed more slowly, nursing her own confused emotions. Taryn entered the main Hall to see Sarai standing in Alek's shadow, hiding once again behind her curtain of coppery hair. Taryn wrapped her arms around herself, trying to rein in her own jealous feelings as the front doors swung open. Damon swept in through the doors, wrapped in an icy wind. He managed to pull off his battle helmet before Alek started questioning him.

"What news? Do the southern troops follow you?"

Damon face was awash in confusion. "The troops remain in the south, my Lord."

"What? Didn't you receive orders from Phelin? But no, you couldn't have. He just sent them yesterday."

"I came of my own accord. The Tramoran Fleet had only a minor force of arms. I fear a ruse."

"You're fears are real, old friend. Fasal is coming through the forest. Phelin's orders should reach the troops by tomorrow, though."

Damon sank to a chair in exhaustion. "No riders passed me as I came north."

Alek ignored Damon and continued, "What of the conscripts? Did you see signs of them heading east?"

Sarai filled a mug of ale and passed it to Damon. He drank deeply before answering. "Those I saw. They've built an effective barricade along the southern road. But they remained with the barricade when I passed through."

Alek was livid. "But this is madness. Phelin ordered them to move east."

Just then Phelin entered the hall from the council room, his face paling as he surveyed the room.

"Phelin," Alek almost shouted, "What of the conscripts? Damon here says they are still on the south road?"

Phelin strode into the hall and stood between Alek and Damon. His eyes glinted coldly at both. "My orders would just have reached the conscripts as Damon came through, my Lord. They are heading the east as we speak."

Damon finished off his ale and stood. "Excellent. Then I'd like to go over your defense plans for the Keep."

Phelin bristled. "There won't be time. Now that you are here, I want you leading the defense of the East Road. You can catch up with the conscripts and take over from my second in Command."

Damon's eyes lingered on Phelin for a moment before he nodded agreement. "You must send another rider to the southern forces. There is no way they can come up the south road through that blockade. They should be sent along the forest route to attack Fasal's rear flank."

Phelin's fists clenched at his side. "An excellent idea, Damon. I will write the order immediately."

Phelin gaze shifted to Sarai. "Why is she not with the other servants?"

Taryn felt Sarai's shock from the reproach. Her own anger flared. "Sarai is a guest in this house."

Phelin gave her a toothy snarl. "Alek bought her. That hardly makes her a guest, does it? She should not be privy to our strategies."

If Taryn had been closer to Phelin, she might very well have hit him.

Alek spoke up before she could. "I don't own her, but Phelin is right. We should move this to the council room."

Taryn's jaw clenched as she felt Sarai withdraw within herself. "Fine," she snapped. "We'll wait here for Mother's report on the food stocks."

After the others left, Sarai lifted her head up and murmured, "I should see if I'm needed in the kitchens."

Taryn stood next to Sarai. "You don't have to," she offered. "Phelin's got his head stuck… well I won't mention where. And Alek's just, he's being pulled in all directions at once."

I don't belong here.

You're right. You belong in Vescant Hall or some other shinaran school, training under a Master.

Sarai responded by gently stroking Taryn's hair.

Taryn heart pounded as her cheeks turned crimson. I'll take you there, after this is over, if you like. Her spirit soared with the flicker of renewed hope in Sarai's golden eyes. She felt a glimmer of optimism that all this would end in Damek's favor, and she would get to keep her promise to take Sarai to Thedric at Vescant.

#

Taryn, Celina, and Sarai stood in the watchtower, wrapped in blankets against the winter chill. All eyes focused on the clouds of dust and smoke forming on the eastern horizon, the only blotch on an otherwise crystal blue sky. Damon and the remaining conscripts had returned to the Keep in the dim light of dawn, in full retreat from Fasal's invading forces. Taryn turned away from the slowly growing dust clouds. Below the watchtower she could see the outer walls of the Keep, the massive gray stonework wide enough for two guards to stand abreast along the battlements. Unfortunately there were not that many guards present within the Keep.

Taryn watched as a row of archers climbed up the wooden ladder to the front battlement to prepare for what approached within the dust clouds. Further along, she saw the distinct uniform of Phelin surrounded by his inner guard. They took up position in the gatehouse above the still-open East Gate. And the reason for the open gate appeared, slowly trotting down the East road into Atheron. The tops of Damon and Alek's helmets reflected the sun like jewels at the lead of a pathetically small cavalry charge.

Celina broke the silence at last. "This is madness. There aren't enough of them to even cause an inch in Fasal's side."

Taryn was inclined to agree. The token force would do little beyond assuage the egos of those who insisted on riding out to face Fasal head-on.

"Damn your grandfather and his bastard child. Why can't he leave us alone?"

She stared at her mother. "What are you saying?"

Celina bit her lip but did not reply.

Taryn's attention was distracted by the growing dust cloud to the east. Movement was visible now, the distinct rise and fall of row upon row of horse and rider. No sun glinted off metal helmet or weapons from this distance, but Taryn had no doubt how well armed Fasal's forces would be. She turned a wishful eye toward the south but that road remained empty, nothing but a winding strip of brown clay stretching off into the blue horizon.

"I can't watch this," Taryn muttered and shuffled back to sit on the hard stone floor by the brazier. Taryn closed her eyes and her head drooped. Why did Alek insist on going out there? Would he get back through the main gate in time? Would the walls hold until help came? Taryn's tangle of confused thoughts met a cool calming presence like the soft lap of waves on a sandy shore. She basked in the comfort for a time before opening her eyes. She met Sarai's golden eyes looking down on her. All signs of Sarai's mental barriers were gone. Only an open, caring mind caressed her thoughts. Taryn smiled as the other woman settled beside her on the floor. Sarai brushed back a loose strand of Taryn's hair. Taryn's thoughts lingered on Sarai's deep red lips, lips she wanted pressed against her own. Shocked by her own open arousal, she looked up into Sarai's eyes, afraid of what the other woman sensed across their shared link. A smile lifted Sarai's flushed cheeks, and Taryn knew Sarai shared her intimate thoughts.

Sarai offered her small dark hand. Taryn enveloped it in her own cool hands. She was instantly lost within the depths of the Revenant's vision once again. A dark world swirled around her and Sarai. Taryn ran down the narrow stone staircase leading to the Keep's cellar, spilled blood making the stairs slippery in spots. Sarai stood motionless at the top of the steps. The world tilted. Taryn stumbled along a snow-covered hillside. This time Sarai was in front of her, watching, as faint sounds of thunder echoed in Taryn's mind. Her body froze in fear. Then white fog swirled around Taryn. She looked into the blood-smeared face of Sarai. The woman was a burning flame of rage, howling like a beast as wind whipped her wet copper hair.

The visions ended when the two women pulled apart. Tears ran freely down Taryn's cheeks. Sarai stood up, swaying.

Taryn's mother flew to her. "What is it, child? What happened?"

Taryn looked back to Sarai. The woman stood frozen for a moment, her eyes wide. Then Sarai blinked, looked from Taryn to Celina and back. Wordless, she ran from the room, her rose skirts billowing out from the speed with which she rushed away.

"What happened?" Celina repeated.

"I'm not sure." Taryn wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked slowly. "I had visions, months ago. A Revenant came to me and wailed dark images into my mind."

"And you never told me?"

"I was frightened. It was when the demon sightings started. The visions were horrible. Somehow I thought I had been the cause of it all. So many people were dying in my vision." Taryn wiped at the tears drying on her face. "I thought I'd turned, like Sesanth."

Celina stroked her hair. "Sesanth was mad, evil. Why would you think that? And what does all this have to do with that girl running away like Wolves of Basker were at her heels?"

Taryn watched the red hot coals in the brazier before her. "Sarai was in the visions. I didn't know who she was at the time, but it's clear now. Sarai was present in each of the deadly scenes."

Celina's hand fell to her side. "She is the one who is evil then."

"No. No it can't be."

#

Phelin paced the upper story of the small stone gatehouse, peering repeatedly out into the shadowed expanse of the East Road. Somewhere out there, in the gloom of dusk that settled on Atheron, the battle for Damek had begun. Within the gatehouse, only three other men stood with him, quiet sentinels to his nervous march. The parapets beyond, as well as the ground just inside the gate were armed with his own select guards. This was his area to control, personally. Phelin scanned the faces around him until his eyes settled on the face of a stranger standing along the wall just outside the gatehouse. "Who is that man?"

"That's Bran," answered Roclan, Phelin's personal guard. "He's worked the Keep guard for over a year, I think,"

"Bring him here."

Roclan returned a moment later with Bran.

"Bran is it? How long have you been on duty?" asked Phelin.

"Since dawn, Sir."

"I want you with the men inside the main hall. Try to rest if you can. Your time out here will come soon enough."

Bran left immediately. Phelin gazed down the East Road again. The sounds of battle drifted in with the breeze. His eyes stayed on the East Road as he spoke to Roclan. "Prepare to lower the gates. Be ready to lower on my order."

Phelin could see riders now, the small patch of Damek defenders in retreat with a body of Fasal's riders pursuing. Phelin's hands clutched the cold stone rail as he leaned out to watch. Damek's riders split off the main road, separating into small parties. Some of Fasal's men followed while most remained on the East Road heading to the Keep and this gate.

"Now," Phelin whispered, "Now…"

A wall of fire ignited along the East Road, catching Fasal's forward guard in its burning grasp. The screams of horse and man echoed up the road to Phelin's ears. He grimaced, turning away from the sight. Alek's plan had worked. Fasal's cavalry pulled back. He could only guess how many of Fasal's men were caught by in the fire trap. Below Phelin, handfuls of Damek riders galloped into the open gate. The road to Atheron remained blocked by a yellow wall of fire. He heard Damon's voice shouting orders below. Phelin surveyed the inner court from his high vantage. Clusters of riders straggled in, and Damon directed them to move the horses to the back stables and clear the front. Stable hands ran off with tired, sweating horses. Damon seemed to question each of the last bands of riders.

Phelin peered back toward Atheron. The fire trap had dwindled to a dim red glow. So much for Alek's diversion. Phelin leaned over the inner wall. "Prepare to shut the gates!"

He heard a voice shout back, "Where is Lord Alek?"

He scanned the knots of men and riders below him for Alek's bulky shape. The evening dusk had faded to full dark by now, with only the few torches along the Keep providing any illumination. Phelin turned back to the East Road. He could not see Fasal's riders, but no red embers remained of the trap. The Gates must be closed. He heard someone scramble up the ladder toward him and turned to see Damon leap into the gatehouse.

"Keep the gates open," Damon demanded, "Lord Alek is missing."

Phelin slammed his fist on the wall. "Look for yourself, Damon. The fire is out. I have to shut the gates."

Damon peered into the darkness, his body shaking in frustration. "He's not back yet."

"Alek knew the risks when he planned this thing. He gave orders to shut the gates when the fire blew out."

Damon eyes never left the dark road. Phelin watched with him, unsure if he could see a dark mass creep up the road. Maybe it was his imagination on the moonless night. Damon turned away from the window. With his hand on the ladder, he muttered, "Close the gate," and climbed down to the lower ground.

Phelin's body tensed a moment. This was not going as planned. Alek should have been inside the Keep. He slammed his fist on a side table, scattering small splinters of wood toward the floor. He leaned over the rail once more. "Close the gates!"

He stood with his head in his hands as he felt the floor beneath him rumble from the chains lowering the massive iron outer gates.

#

Taryn weaved her way through the scattered array of cots and make-shift bedding lining the lower hallways. Each sector of the Keep seemed a confusion of faces, the tired, frightened, or embittered remnants of Atheron seeking safety within the stone edifice. Fumes lingered from the last set of fires ignited by a volley of flaming arrows from Fasal's army. A spotty coat of soot clung to Taryn's heavy skirts as she wound her way back to the main hall where the first casualties of battle lay in moaning, pain-wracked clusters by the central hearth. Taryn had lost three men already, their wounds beyond her healing skills.

She peered out through the window slits to the inner courtyard, but could only make out a few yellow torches burning in the late night darkness. Or perhaps it was nearing dawn by now? Taryn felt the ache of exhaustion tug at her as she knelt beside a silent pale guardsman. This one had the soft downy growth of a first beard blanketing his round chin. She turned away from his boyish face. It was too harsh a contrast to the deep crimson stain seeping through his tattered jerkin.

Taryn would lose this one as well. Already darkness encircled his deep-set eyes as she lowered herself into a healing trance and scanned his wounds. The left lung had collapsed. His shallow breathing came in short pants as Taryn searched deeper for some way to stem the bleeding. The boy had been injured outside the gates. No arrowhead had ripped a hole this large. He must have been one of the riders who went with Alek. Taryn's eyes flicked open, her concentration lost as she wondered if this boy had seen her brother. Did he know if Alek escaped or died in that trap?

Taryn's eyes drifted further. The Hall had a half dozen wounded men sitting or lying nearby. She saw a familiar copper head atop a green gown with gold spirals. Sarai glided between the men, serving warm broth and bread. Taryn's mind filled with a cool gentle touch as Sarai turned to her briefly before continuing to clean the wounds on the next guard. A soft smile curved Taryn's lips, easing some of the tension within her. Her mother was wrong. Sarai could not be evil. She returned to her charge one more time. She closed her eyes and concentrated this time on easing the pressures building within the dying youth. She could not save him, but she could ease his passage.

Taryn's slow progression through the injured guards was interrupted by a disturbance down the hallway leading to the council chamber. She glanced down the dimly lit corridor just as her mother's thoughts called for her attention. Taryn left the sleeping form of her healing patient.

What is it? she asked as she hustled along the hallway to her mother's side. led Taryn into the council chamber. The room had only two burning candles, but even in such poor light, Taryn recognized the burly shadow of her brother standing next to Damon.

"Alek!" Taryn threw herself into his arms. He smelled of old dust and sweat as she nuzzled into his chest a moment before pulling back. "Are you hurt?"

"Nothing but a few scrapes from the tunnels," said Alek.

Taryn stepped back from his grim expression. "What is it?"

"Something is very wrong, little sister. My men and I fought a dozen or more of Fasal's soldiers after we set the fires. We didn't get back before someone closed the gate."

Damon grimaced. "I agreed with that order."

"Understood," Alek nodded. "The real problem came when we hunted for the tunnel openings behind the Keep. We found two of them blocked by planks and boulders. With Fasal's men in pursuit we had no time to dig through."

"I haven't been in the tunnels in years," said Taryn.

"Neither have I, sister, but someone has. Or rather someone did not want us using them anymore."

Taryn considered this a moment. "Then how did you get in?"

Alek stared at her, his blue eyes locked on her own. "You remember the games of Catch the Shadow we used to play as kids?"

Taryn nodded.

"And you remember how we always won against Phelin?"

"Yes," said Taryn with a wry smile. "We snuck into the Keep from the outer stables tunnel under the feed bay. It drove Phelin mad."

"Because he never knew about that tunnel, did he?

We never told him when we discovered it." Taryn felt lightheaded as Alek's innuendoes finally dawned on her. "You came in through that tunnel?"

"Yes. It was the only one we found still open."

Taryn felt herself sway as her knees threatened to buckle under her. Betrayal from a family member crumbled her remaining resolve far more than an invading army at her doorstep. Her vision swam with images of the three of them as children, laughing, teasing. They were inseparable. How could their differences have cut them so deeply from one another?

Celina stood. "I don't believe it. Phelin is no traitor. He must have told someone else about those tunnels."

Alek eyes narrowed. "Perhaps. We'll have to ask him, then."

"Is that wise?" asked Damon, "If you think he could be responsible? How many of the guards here have direct loyalty to him?"

Alek scratched at the bristles of his day-old beard. "Someone within the Keep is working for Fasal that much is certain. I want the women ready to leave here in an hour."

"This is nonsense." Celina pushed a lock of gray hair behind her ears as she stood. "I will be there when you confront my foster-son with this accusation." With a swish of skirts, Celina was out the door.

Alek paused only a moment before continuing. His callused hands rested on Taryn's shoulders. "I need you to be ready to leave through that tunnel. Take Sarai and be dressed in warm travel clothes within the hour."

Taryn nodded. "What about Mother?"

Alek glanced out the open council door. "I will talk with her. I'll carry her out if I have to." He turned to Damon. "I want you to go with them, old friend. If the worst happens, take them to the mines. You might get to Gethrig before it's snowed-in for the winter."

Alek grasped Damon hand. Taryn could only guess at what passed silently between the two men. Abruptly they parted and she took this as her signal to leave.

Taryn's easy pace through the main hall toward Sarai belied her inner panic. She was losing her home, running into the harsh winter to who knows where. Alek's accusations against Phelin echoed in her mind but refused to take hold. She could not believe Phelin would betray them. They were family. Sarai looked up as Taryn approached. Sarai's rigid controls were locked in place again, but her cheeks burned crimson. Taryn had no time to wonder at Sarai's discomfort. She signaled the other woman to follow and headed up the stairway. Sarai's footsteps echoed behind her. She tried to reach Sarai mentally one last time, but Sarai held firm to her isolation. Taryn waited for her at the top of the steps.

"We need to dress for travel, quickly," she whispered.

Sarai blanched. "We are leaving the Keep?"

"Yes, on foot. Breeches, boots, and the heaviest cloak you can find."

They rounded the bend to Sarai's rooms, where a lone guard stood sentry. Taryn took little notice of the man but Sarai slowed, then stopped.

"Come on," Taryn urged. "We haven't time."

Taryn heard the distinct sound of metal on metal. She turned to see the sentry inch toward them, sword drawn. Taryn whipped her head around in search of the danger. She saw only the three of them in the upper hallway. Turning back, she looked intently at the guardsman. "Bran? It's Bran, isn't it? What's the matter?"

Bran lurched closer, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Taryn stepped toward him, thinking he must have been injured.

The link with Sarai snapped open. No!

Taryn paused, He's injured.

He holds death in his heart!

Sarai, I don't understand.

He means to kill us!

Bran moved within the light of the wall torch, and Taryn staggered back. His face was awash in sweat, his eyes barely open. She had only a moment to realize help would not come in time for them.

Help me, she pleaded, reaching out to Sarai.

Taryn created a fog of illusion between them and the possessed Bran. She felt the tenuous link with Sarai strengthen as the woman grasped her hand. A wave of power washed over her. Taryn's eyes smarted from beads of sweat off her brow as she struggled to control and channel the power. A gray barrier solidified across the hall, separating them from Bran. The air crackled with energy, but Taryn focused most of the power into the disorienting illusion. Bran let out a low growl and charged. In that instant, Taryn lost control of the link. More power exploded from Sarai. Taryn stumbled against a wall she could not see, as a brilliant white barrier slammed down around her. She was isolated from Bran and Sarai.

Fear pounded in Taryn's chest as she fought to regain control. The barrier and the energy flowing into it meant Sarai was still alive, but where was Bran? An unseen hand grasped Taryn's hand and pulled her through the barrier. Taryn could barely see in the dark hallway beyond the white wall.

Inside my room, quickly. Sarai dragged Taryn across the threshold and pushed the door shut.

#

Phelin's breath came out in thin wisps of steam as he paced the length of the gate tower in three quick strides. The black expanse of the moonless night was interrupted by dozens of watch-fires burning in ordered columns within Fasal's siege camp below. He smirked. He had to admire the man's military precision. Every tent had been pitched by the light of the watch-fires, well out of reach of the Keep's archers. Phelin imagined the morning sun would shimmer off the tops of perfectly aligned rows of tents. He pulled on his black gloves, flexing his fingers in the supple leather. Winter nights in Damek could freeze a man's hands if he was careless, and no fires burned in his small enclosure.

A commotion behind him took Phelin's concentration away from the invaders below. He turned in time to see Roclan's shaved head appear at the top of the ladder. Phelin's personal guard swung himself up into the gate tower.

Roclan pointed back down the ladder toward the inner Keep. "He's back, my Lord."

Phelin sidestepped Roclan and peered over the railing toward the main hall doors. Alek stood in the well-lit doorway with Damon at his side. Mud and grime covered Alek's tunic. Even from a distance, Phelin could discern jagged cuts in Alek's clothing. He had no idea how his foster-brother managed to get back within the Keep, but it must have cost the lives of many of his men.

He smiled. "Well done, foster-brother."

Alek turned his head up and stared at Phelin, who stiffened a moment from Alek's grim expression. Alek did not move, did not turn away.

"Caught on then have you?" Phelin murmured. He raised his voice for Roclan. "It will be a night to remember, old friend."

Phelin slid his sword out of the scabbard, the blade catching the light from the torches hanging along the Keep wall. His heartbeat pounded; he could feel his pulse throb into the hilt of his sword as he raised it in the high air for a beat, then another. The steam from his warm breath hitting the cold night air swirled around him, occluding his view of Alek for just a moment. On the fourth beat of his pulse, Phelin brought down his sword in a fast slicing arc, a parry to an invisible foe, it would seem to most watching.

As Phelin's blade slowed, a long piercing horn blew from along the Keep wall. He watched Alek's confusion as Phelin's own guards drew weapons and faced into the Keep, guarding the gatehouse below him. Another horn sounded, then a third, these coming from outside the Keep. Phelin felt the unmistakable rumbling of the gate mechanism beneath him. "Your time has ended, foster-brother."

As the sound of the gate chains echoed within the Keep, Damon's voice rose above the confusion, shouting orders. Guard fought rebel guard as the clanging of the gate continued. Phelin's grip tightened on his sword as he watched Alek draw his own weapon below. Instead of heading into the fray, he grabbed Damon and ran back inside the main hall.

Phelin let out a barking laugh as the doors to the main hall swung shut. "Hiding with the house staff? The son of the Great Bear of Damek runs away?" Phelin sheathed his sword and turned to watch Fasal's foot soldiers stream toward the opening gate.

#

Taryn and Sarai hurried down the staircase, the shouts from the open Hall doors echoing around them. They each wore thick buckskin breeches, heavy boots tied to the knee, and long hooded cloaks. At the base of the stairs, Taryn paused to adjust the short sword strapped to her waist. She regretted Sarai's lack of training with a sword. The woman had only a dagger in her belt.

Taryn's thoughts froze at the unmistakable sound of grinding metal. She peered across the hall to the open main doors. Fires raged outside. Taryn pushed through the hysterical crowd within the hall, heading for the doors. She heard guards screaming, cursing. And above it all, the groan and creeks of the thick iron gate as it rose inexorably upward. A handful of men pulled at the oak hall doors, sealing them shut against the battle outside. Taryn recognized Alek and Damon as they turned from the barred doors. She pushed her way through to them, urging Sarai to follow.

"How?" she asked, simply.

Alek ran a hand across his eyes. "Phelin. Traitorous bastard." Then he grabbed Taryn, pinching her arms in his tight grasp. "You must leave, now. Lead Damon to the remaining tunnel."

Taryn pushed away from her brother. "Not without you. Not without Mother."

"There's no time. I'll find her and follow. You must get out while you can." Alek looked passed her to Sarai and Damon. "Please, take her." He sidestepped Taryn and pushed his way through the throng of guards.

Taryn made to follow, but Damon's hand on her arm stayed her. She knew she must do as he asked. She rid her eyes of the tears with a frustrated swipe of her gloved hand. "This way," she said, through clenched teeth. Taryn led Damon and Sarai through the pandemonium of the main hall, past the library, and down the sparsely lit staircase to the subterranean baths. Taryn made each of them carry unlit torches. She lit her own from the wall light at the base of the stairs and started toward the far end of the cavern. She heard footsteps on the stairs behind them.

"Alek," she called, her heart lifting with hope. But it was not Alek who stepped down to the base of the steps, panting and sweating profusely.

Damon took a step toward the man. "Bran? You should be upstairs, where they need you."

"No," Taryn warned, "This man attacked us just an hour ago."

Damon pulled his sword. Bran swayed as if drunk, his own sword loose in his grasp. "The girl," his voice rasped.

"Go back, man. The lady is not for you or any of Phelin's traitors."

Bran shook his head. "Not Lady Taryn, the other one. My orders are for her." He stabbed his sword in the air, pointing at Sarai.

Taryn pushed Sarai behind her and drew her own sword. "She's not for you, either," she growled.

Damon held up his hand, "What does Phelin want with her?"

Bran shook his head once more as he crouched. "My mistress wants her." He hissed, and then struck like a viper.

Damon lost ground at first, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Bran's attack. Taryn held her sword ready, looking for an opening to help him. Bran deflected Damon's parry and used his full weight to drive Damon further back, inching closer to Sarai. Taryn lunged at Bran to distract him, but he only pushed Damon between them, cutting off her opening. Taryn felt Sarai move behind her. She turned, too late to grab the woman back. Sarai circled around the two men and ran for the stairs. Bran let go of Damon and drew his sword high to cut Sarai down.

"No!" Taryn shouted.

Bran was between her and Sarai as his movements froze. Damon pierced the man's side with his sword, but Bran was already crumbling at the base of the steps. As his body rolled, Taryn saw Sarai's dagger in his chest. She looked up to see Sarai standing higher up on the stairs. Below her lay a pool of blood from Bran.

Damon grabbed the knife out of Bran's chest, cleaned it and handed it back to Sarai. She slipped the knife back into the sheath in her belt, her eyes downcast. Taryn wanted to ask her why she risked herself, but there was no time. Taryn sheathed her sword and retrieved her discarded torch from where it lay sputtering on the damp floor.

"The entrance is here, behind the towel shelves." Taryn ran her hand along the edge of the wooden shelves until her fingers triggered the hidden door release. She stepped aside as the door swung open, hinges squealing in protest. "Bring the spare torches," she called over her shoulder as she entered the dry, dark tunnel.

Chapter 9

Phelin walked the perimeter of the inner Keep wall. Dawn revealed the death toll in stark detail. The battlement became slippery in spots, from spilled blood, but his loyal guards were already shifting bodies beyond the open gates. The smoky stench of a mass funeral pyre filled his lungs. He watched Roclan march toward him, flanked by two of Fasal's soldiers.

"Lord Phelin," Roclan called up to him.

Phelin smiled at the new honor. "Yes, Roclan?"

"These men request we deliver our prisoners to Fasal."

Phelin heard the bitter undercurrent to his friend's words, but chose to ignore them. "Please see that Fasal's requests are met."

Roclan clenched his fists. "My Lord, do you know what Fasal will do with them?"

"Sell them as slaves, of course."

Roclan face darkened, "These are sons and daughters of Damek."

"And loyal to the family I just replaced. They will bring a good price in Tramoran and help pay our debt to Fasal." Phelin thought the matter closed, but Roclan didn't move. "Do you have a problem here?" His friend turned on his heel and marched off with Fasal's men in tow.

Phelin worked his way down from the wall just as an honor guard paraded through the main gate. Three figures rode within the smartly uniformed guards. Phelin scanned the riders. The hooded figure in the back he recognized as Vasali. He didn't know who the second man was, but the foremost figure, with black beard and balding head, had to be Fasal. Fasal stood in his stirrups, surveying the inner Keep. When they stopped at the steps of the main hall, he signaled the honor guard and they split, forming a wall of soldiers before the blackened remains of the oak doors. Phelin quickened his pace to meet Fasal in the main hall. When he approached the steps to the Keep, the closest soldiers challenged him, barring his entrance.

He stared down at the shorter of the two, a stocky dark-skinned man with a barrel chest, obviously from Bhet. "Step aside, soldier. This is my province and my Keep."

Fasal and the other man turned, and Phelin met the icy blue stare of the Lord of Tramoran and Beht. After a moment, Fasal nodded his assent and the soldiers let Phelin pass.

Phelin returned the insult by addressing Vasali first. "Welcome back, cleric. I take it this is your Lord," he said, gesturing to Fasal. Vasali nodded.

Fasal grinned and stepped forward. "Well met, young cousin."

Fasal's voice filled Phelin's ears, so much like Brion's, his beloved foster-father. He studied Fasal as he shook the man's callused hand. The older man's face bore the scars of his fight to power in Bhet and Tramoran. He had the barrel chest so common to Bheti men, but the black hair and angular jaw came from his paternal origins in Damek. Fasal bore a remarkable resemblance to Brion, his half-brother.

"Welcome to Damek, Uncle," said Phelin, with a slight bow. "I hope you will enjoy your stay in my province."

Fasal barked a short laugh. "Yes, your province. And you earned it, my boy. I pray we can breach the divide in our family and bring back open trade between our provinces."

Phelin nodded. "And this man is?" he asked, looking at the wiry man to Fasal's left.

Fasal put his thick tanned hand on the man's shoulder. "This is my chief military strategist and mastermind of the Velek breach. Phelin of Damek, may I present Commander Josep."

Phelin shook Josep's cool hand as Fasal spoke on. "Now that our allegiance is known, Josep will be replacing Vasali as my liaison in Damek."

Vasali spoke for the first time. "My lord, my work here…"

Fasal waved off Vasali's objections, "You can continue your clerical wanderings, of course. But Josep will remain in Damek to assist my young cousin."

Phelin stared at Josep, the man's face remained clear of any emotion. "I am grateful for your continued generosity, Uncle, but I believe I can rule in Damek without such assistance."

Fasal's smile wavered. "My generosity, young man, is what Josep will be overseeing. It will take more than the sale of Alek's guards to repay the costs of this operation. Come let's not argue over financing so soon." Fasal's smile returned. "Damek is rich in minerals and people. I am sure we can build a profitable cross-border trade, in time. And don't dismiss Josep so quickly. You may find him useful in creating a stable government in the months to come."

Phelin returned the smile, though his anger smoldered. "As you wish, Uncle." He turned toward the main hall, "Let me show you the layout of the Keep. I regret the damage some of these rooms have suffered."

Fasal waved a hand at the destruction of the main hall. "And I have sent for two dozen servants to help you with reconstruction."

Phelin gritted his teeth. "That is too generous."

Fasal patted him hard on the back. "Ha, you are a wary one. That is good, but I assure you, these are purely a gift, purchased from the northeast. They have no ties or loyalty to me or Tramoran."

"Then they will be most useful, Uncle. The house staff may prove too loyal to my foster-brother."

Fasal nodded. "Excellent. But before we commence with the tour, tell me Phelin, where have you put the former occupants of this Keep, eh?"

Phelin's gaze swept the burnt remains of the main hall, the charred portraits and broken furniture. The hall bore the brunt of the destruction, with no reports of looting from the upper bedrooms. He felt a certain measure of pride in that, though it did not make up for the disaster with his foster-family.

"Only one remains within the Keep," Phelin confessed in a throaty whisper.

Vasali grabbed him by the elbow. "Which one?" she rasped.

Fasal interrupted her, "Release him, cleric. This is no longer your responsibility." He turned to Phelin, no hint of a smile remained on his scarred face. "Show me who remains in your care."

The chamber hall remained unaffected by the earlier battles. A layer of soot settled on the oak table and chairs, a thin veil of black over the richly carved wood. Smoke from the smoldering fires outside clouded high windows. Only one of the three braziers in the room held burning red coals. Phelin stepped aside as Fasal's party walked into the chamber, dismissing the two guards present as they entered. The sole occupant of the room sat in a chilly darkness in the far corner, staring up at the windows.

Phelin cleared his throat. "Foster-mother."

"Never call me that again, betrayer."

He stiffened, but Fasal pushed forward. "Come boy, She'll hardly be the first to toss that name at you. It's the price we pay for leadership."

Phelin followed Fasal into the chamber, lighting a few torches along the way. He brushed the soot off a chair and seated himself across the table from his foster-mother. Celina turned to face them, her face and hair smudged with dirt and blood. Her dress was torn and filthy. Phelin cringed.

Fasal broke the silence. "Lady Celina, Brion's fair widow." He gave a slight bow. "I regret the circumstances in which we finally meet."

Celina turned away from Fasal, her eyes fixed on Phelin. "You trust this viper over your own kin?"

"But he is kin, foster-mother…Lady," Phelin answered. "He and I have much in common, both the bastard offspring of an unwelcoming family."

A look of disgust washed over Celina's face. "There is only one bastard son of Damek in this room, Phelin. You were born of this family and kept as a son by Brion when your parents died." Celina glanced at Fasal. "This beast was spawned in the dirt of Bhet by the uncontrolled urges of your grandfather. And now this mistake comes here to claim a land that was never meant for him."

Fasal leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed and a slow smile spreading on his lips. "You are everything I imagined you'd be, Lady."

Phelin was not as calm. "My uncle was passed over for rule of Damek by a less-capable younger brother, just as I was, Lady, when my beloved foster-father died."

Celina stiffened. "Fool. Damek was never yours to have. Your beloved foster-father himself set your path years ago. You were to have directed this sort of campaign into Tramoran. If you had the patience of a true leader, you would have been ruler of Tramoran instead of this beast."

Phelin paled. She had told him this once before, but the plans for the Damek invasion were too far along to alter. And Phelin wasn't convinced Alek would ever have backed Brion's plans.

Fasal stepped forward. "Ease up on the boy, Lady. He chose the better path. He would not have survived an invasion attempt in my lands, he's much too green."

Phelin glared at Fasal, his temper ready to explode. His hand itched to grab his sword and prove to this arrogant man that Phelin of Damek had the mettle to survive and to rule. Vasali shifted behind Fasal, distracting Phelin as she pulled back her hood. Her hazel eyes fixed on his, and she shook her head slightly as if to warn him off his current thoughts. He let out a slow breath, calmed himself. "It doesn't matter what might have been, Lady. I rule in Damek now. And if you wanted peace with Tramoran, well I have accomplished that as well."

"Well said, cousin. Now my Lady, to business. Where are your dear children, eh?"

Celina sat back in her chair, crossing her arms.

"Come now, I can't believe the Bear of Damek's young cubs would turn tail and desert their dam. Didn't he teach them better than that?"

Celina shifted her eyes to Fasal and then back to the windows. She said quietly, "Did you ever wonder that your own father rejected you? You will never be half the man my Brion was. That desert bitch who bred you knew that, so did your father."

Anger washed over Fasal's scarred features, then faded. Phelin wished his foster-mother would not goad Fasal. Phelin had yet to establish control over the situation and Celina's future.

"I wonder which of us has the tongue of the viper now, dear Lady." He bowed his head, and then stood. "Our family's past is irrelevant now. My half-brother is dead, his children either dead or scattered, and his widow is my war prize."

Fasal strode to the door. "Come Phelin, we've much to discuss."

Phelin lingered in the chamber for a moment, staring at his foster-mother. His mind played with words, trying to find something to help heal the rift between them. "Foster-mother."

"Get out."

He stood. "The guards will take you to your quarters." He walked stiffly out of the room, the precise click of his boots lending strength to his resolve.

Just outside the chamber hall, Vasali accosted him. "The girl, is she dead?"

Phelin blinked. "What? Taryn? I don't know."

"No," Vasali hissed. "The dark one, Alek's slave girl."

Phelin shrugged. "I don't know. Roclan is searching the bodies for Taryn and Alek. The slave is of no interest to me."

Vasali's eyes glowed and her nails dug into his arm. He felt their sharpness through his dirty uniform. Phelin pulled away just as Fasal backtracked to them.

"Josep just reported a rumor that you didn't block the escape tunnels," said Fasal.

Phelin shook the dust off his uniform. "They were. I had guards at all the entrances within the Keep and barricaded the tunnels from the outside."

"Then how did Alek get back in the Keep last night?"

"I wish I knew."

Vasali clutched him again. "Where are these tunnels?"

He shook her off. "They are sealed, I tell you."

"Well Alek got in somehow," said Fasal, "And if we don't find their bodies, he and Taryn got out as well. Give Vasali the details of your tunnels. She has certain…talents that may help in retrieving your lost siblings."

Phelin balked. The tunnels were a family secret he did not wish to reveal to Fasal. "I have already sent riders through the woods around Atheron. If they escaped, my trackers will find them."

"Good," said Fasal.

Vasali swayed. Her bronze features paled. "Excuse me, my Lord. Is there a quiet place I might pray for the dead."

Phelin pointed her down the hall. She backed away toward the library and shut the door.

Fasal watched her leave. "What was she going on about earlier?"

"I don't know. Something about a slave Alek brought back with him. Maybe the girl was a spy for Vasali. She might even have slit his throat by now, if she worked under Vasali's orders."

"Perhaps," said Fasal, but his eyes lingered on the library door.

Phelin continued down the corridor. "The main hall is a mess, but the upstairs quarters are in good order. You are welcome to stay within the Keep until your return to Tramoran."

"Thank you, but I prefer to stay with my battalions. It helps keep order."

They were interrupted by a high-pitched wail coming from the library. Phelin clutched the hilt of his sword, but Fasal held his arm.

"Wasn't that Vasali?" he asked.

"Probably. The cleric is subject to these fits. I find it's best to leave her be."

Phelin turned back to the library.

"Don't worry about her. There is little on this land that can attack Vasali." Fasal let go of Phelin's arm. "She has ways to defend herself."

Phelin relaxed his sword arm. The wail quieted to a soft keening that sent a shiver down his spine.

#

Taryn trudged up along the wooded slopes of the Black Mountains. Damon led them, picking his way through the trees and brush. Sarai followed next, and then Taryn, each carrying the travel packs Alek had left for them in the tunnel. Thoughts of her brother and mother threatened to bring a fresh batch of tears to her eyes. Taryn brushed a gloved hand across her brow, refusing to give in to her fears again. She knew her face must be smudged with dirt and dried tears, but she no longer cared.

The night-long hike had taken its toll on her. Taryn's shoulders ached from the weight of her pack, and she had blisters on both feet. She looked at Sarai in front of her, but the woman seemed content to march behind Damon for the rest of the morning. Taryn longed to curl up in the soft bed of leaves beneath her feet and sleep. She shivered. Even the strain of the uphill climb could not combat the icy wind blowing down from the north. They hiked directly into that wind. No matter the twists of Damon's path through the trees, they always headed north. North of Atheron lay the mining towns of Damek. The province was rich in deposits of coal and other minerals, rich enough to attract Fasal's greed.

Taryn closed her eyes. She wanted to block the vision of the Keep burning, the sight they saw as they fled north in the night. And what of her mother and brother? Had they escaped as well? Taryn stumbled over an exposed root and fell to her knees. Pain laced up her leg, and she let out a low groan. Damon and Sarai stopped.

"Are you alright?" Damon asked.

"Yes," she replied gruffly. "Keep going."

Damon surveyed the area. They were in a thick cluster of berch trees, with a bubbling stream just south of them. Since they could not see much of the slope around them, they were likely not visible from below. "We can rest here for a short time."

Taryn greeted the news with a sigh, lowering herself back onto the ground. She shifted the pack off her back and tried in vain to massage the knot that had developed between her shoulder blades. "Can we eat some?" she asked.

"Yes. We'll rest here for an hour, but no more. They'll be tracking us by now."

Taryn wasn't sure who they were, Phelin's treasonous guards or Fasal's invading army. Either prospect sent another shiver through her. She wrapped herself into a tight ball under the cloak, trying to block out the icy wind. Sarai rummaged through her pack and pulled out bread and cheese, passing it out to each of them. Then she settled down beside Taryn.

Taryn broke off small pieces of bread to eat. "They'll be on foot as well, though, won't they? Whomever Fasal sends?" Thinking of Fasal tracking her seemed less disturbing than Phelin's betrayal.

"Yes. I've kept our path within the heaviest growth of the forest, but we still cut a clear trail for anyone to track. Once we get as far as the mining district we may be able to lose them in those high traffic areas."

"How much further is that?"

"Another half day, maybe? We'll cut back west and north along the river. We'll still be below the snow line."

She ate her last bits of cheese. She tried twisting her shoulders to loosen the knot in her back, to no avail. Sarai closed the travel pack, and then shifted behind Taryn. She felt the pressure of Sarai's hands massaging her back, gently releasing the tension. She let her eyes drift shut. A heat rose within Taryn that ignored the external cold air.

"Thank you," she murmured when Sarai stopped. She opened her eyes to see that Damon already had his pack on. They were moving on.

They picked their way upward for endless hours, always keeping the river to their left as they rose. Taryn did not believe the air could get colder, but it did. If the grey clouds above broke, she was sure it would snow. Her shoulders burned, her back and legs ached, but still they went on. Even Sarai in front of her showed signs of strain. The woman stumbled on, bent under the weight of her pack. Taryn felt a stab of guilt. She should have shifted things to her own pack, giving a lighter load to the smaller woman. She nearly walked into Sarai before she realized the woman had stopped suddenly. Damon must have sensed they stopped as well. He took a few quick steps back to them.

"Trackers," Sarai whispered, pointing to their right.

Damon signaled them all to crouch down. He drew is sword and Taryn followed suit, her heart hammering in her chest. How could trackers have caught up with them so soon? She listened, but could hear nothing. She scanned their surroundings. They were in a narrow depression, following the course of the river. The land rose up on either side, covered in evergreen shrub and pine trees. They were hidden from view for the moment. Damon signaled them to stay. He worked his way up the nearest rise, silent and crouching. He disappeared over the crest.

Taryn felt the cold hilt of her sword through her gloves. She waited with Sarai, quiet and tense. She was about to suggest they go in search of Damon, when he appeared a little further south of them. He walked upright, heading further away from them.

Taryn moved to rise, to call him back but Sarai grabbed her arm and shook her head. No.

Taryn turned back to Damon. A group of armed soldiers sprang from the woods around him. Taryn gasped. He walked into a trap. She held her sword in shaking hands. There were at least four armed soldiers surrounding Damon now. He hadn't even drawn his sword. Taryn strained to hear what they were saying. She thought Damon was trying to convince them he was a lone hunter.

Behind us, Sarai hissed. Taryn whirled in time to see two more soldiers appear on the rise to their left, up from beside the river. There was no option to hide now. Taryn stood up, facing the soldiers. She did not recognize the uniforms they wore, forest green with yellow markings. The soldiers drew their weapons when they saw her. She could not fight them both, this she knew. She swallowed hard and held her sword in both hands. She vowed to take at least one of them to the grave with her.

The soldiers shouted to the other group. Taryn did not know the language. She heard the commotion behind her but she had to stay focused on the two in front.

The taller of the two spoke in a thick accent. "Drop weapon, Miss. Or father dies."

Taryn frowned. Father? They must mean Damon. She studied the soldiers again. They might have been from Fasal's troops. Obviously they did not recognize her. Maybe she could bluff her way out of this. Taryn lowered her sword. "Please don't hurt my father," she pleaded, pitching her voice high and loud, hoping Damon would here and catch on. Taryn risked a glance behind her. Damon was being led toward them, his hands already bound. She dropped her sword and backed away, signaling Sarai to do the same with her dagger.

A large man with ruddy cheeks above a greasy beard came around, leading Damon. He spoke; his voice had only a hint of the foreign accent. "Who are you, and why are you lurking in the woods. The truth this time, man."

"I beg forgiveness, sir," said Damon, "I wished only to protect my daughter and her handmaid."

The large man, the leader, nodded. "And why are you here then? There is no town here, no road."

"We ran from Atheron when the soldiers came. We lost our way."

"Hmm. That may be true, but you are far from any path."

Another soldier spoke in the foreign language. The leader seemed to consider the man's words.

He says they are searching for brother and sister, not a family.

Taryn's eyes widened but she forced herself to relax. Sarai, you understand them?

Yes. I had Behti owners before I was sold in Tramoran.

The leader shook his head. "Sephrin, tie them. Let the captain decide what to make of their tale." He waved over another soldier. This one, a woman, bound Taryn's hands with coarse leather straps. The soldier approached Sarai, and Taryn felt her panic rise.

Sarai, please don't fight. We may still convince this captain to free us.

Sarai's face paled as the woman approached, but she let the soldier tie her hands. Taryn felt waves of anguish emanating from her. She had no chance to question Sarai, though, as the soldiers dragged them on a long southern march.

#

The campfire glowed in the cold, dry night, but Taryn and the others felt none of its warmth. Damon was bound to a tree on the far side of the camp. Taryn and Sarai were kept together, their wrists still tied, but otherwise they were left on their own. One bored soldier cast a lazy eye toward them now and again. The soldier blew warm air on her hands as she watched her companions joking around the warm fire.

At least Taryn would get to sleep tonight. She could feel her muscles stiffening while she drank a cup of hot broth. Sarai sat beside her, head bowed, quiet. She drank little of the broth. Taryn finished off her broth and set the bowl aside. Then she pulled up a musty blanket the soldiers had left them. She could not tell if the original color was grey or brown. She probably did not want to know, given its current murky color. She shifted herself until she was next to Sarai. The woman remained on the edge of panic, her face drawn and pale, even in the silver moonlight. Taryn drew the blanket around the two of them. She reached out to Sarai mentally.

Why are you so frightened? These soldiers won't harm you, even if they discover who I am. They are well trained. See – they take care to have only their women approach us.

Sarai dropped her mental barriers, and Taryn felt herself transported by the other woman's emotions to a time when Sarai was a child:

Mounted nomads circled them, their high-spirited horses frothy and snorting. Sarai's small wrists hurt from the ropes that bound her. She curled up on her mother's lap. Her mother was bound at wrist and ankle, but managed to hold Sarai to her. Sarai watched as a group of men built up a mount of dry wood. She did not understand why the men stole them from their house. Where was her father? "Momma?"

"Don't watch, my Sarai. Promise me you won't watch."

"I don't understand, Momma. When can we go home?"

"Promise me. Close your eyes."

"Momma?"

The nomads tore her away from her mother. She screamed, tore at her captors face. He pinned her arms down, holding her off the ground. Tears streamed down her face as she cried. The nomads set the pile on fire. It caught in an instant, flames rising high into the night sky. Momma said close your eyes, she thought. Close your eyes.

The nomads dragged her mother to the fire. "Momma?" she whimpered. Sarai wanted to obey her mother. Close your eyes. She hiccupped. She let her eyes close. She heard a high wail, like the sounds of a dying animal. Sarai could not help it. She opened her eyes. Her mother flew in the air, arching up, away from the group of nomads. Then her mother crossed into the burning yellow flames and the screams grew hoarse.

Sarai closed her eyes. Shut them tight. "I'm sorry, Momma! I'm sorry! I closed them now! Come back, Momma!"

Sarai closed the link. Taryn wrapped her arms around her companion as best she could, rocking her gently as warm tears streamed down her own cold cheeks.

But they didn't burn you? Taryn asked.

No. They purified my mother in the fire. I was not worthy of the fire. I was sold at the next auction with the rest of my family's property.

Taryn stroked Sarai's head, her soft copper hair slipping between Taryn's fingers. That won't happen here. You are a free woman, now. No one in Damek can make you a slave again.

In part, Taryn knew that was not what Sarai needed to hear. She was not even sure it was true, given that these were Behti soldiers. She felt the woman's need, not just for her own safety, but for Taryn's safety as well. She felt Sarai's bound hands clutch her overtunic and pull her close. Taryn stroked her hair, pressed her lips against Sarai's soft cheek. Sarai feared she would be taken away again, or worse, she would have to watch as Taryn was killed. Taryn wanted to tell her this would not happen, but she couldn't. She did not know what her own fate would be. She drew them both down onto the bed of old leaves. The cool scent of the earth masked the odor of their blanket as they lay wrapped together, until sleep finally claimed them for a time.

Taryn grumbled when she felt an elbow in her ribs. She tried to roll away, but Sarai nudged her again. She rolled on her side, away from the offending limb. She refused to open her eyes, her body still fixed in its state of exhaustion.

Others, in the woods.

Taryn's body tensed. With her eyes still shut, she reached out mentally to search the area. Yes, she felt them now too, maybe a dozen, not near enough to be seen, but definitely moving closer. Taryn rolled back so she faced the campfire. She opened her eyes to thin slits and scanned the area. The fire had burned to red embers. She saw one figure moving, a lone sentry. Taryn could not sense anything about the people in the woods, but this might be their best chance to escape. She reached out to Damon, on the opposite side of the camp. His mind was resting fitfully. Taryn roused him.

Damon. She felt him tense at her direct contact. There are others, forming a circle around us in the woods.

Damon did not move, but he was fully awake now. Taryn continued, there's only one sentry by you.

She heard a noise behind her and froze. Two people crouched by the tree behind them. Taryn lifted the blanket from her head and stared at two sets of eyes, glowing in coal-blackened faces. One of the attackers, a woman, slid a small dagger to Taryn. She and her companion crawled back into the woods without a word. Taryn used the knife to cut herself and Sarai loose.

They gave me a dagger, she told Damon, Sarai and I are free. She waited, tense. She strained to hear evidence of the people in the woods, but she heard nothing beyond the creaking of bare trees overhead.

An instant later, the silence was broken. Dark figures jumped out of the woods on all sides. At least two soldiers were dead before they ever roused. The sentry had no hope against the three who bore down on him with weapons Taryn did not recognize in the dark. She tossed off the blanket and pulled Sarai up with her. The remaining soldiers fought with multiple assailants each. Taryn crouched as she worked her way over to Damon.

"Who are they?" he whispered as she cut at his bonds.

"I don't know. Their weapons are strange."

"They are fighting with pitchfork and axe."

Taryn cut the last rope holding Damon. He rushed over to the dead sentry, grabbing the man's sword. Taryn followed suit, taking the un-drawn sword from one of the dead soldiers. She handed Sarai the dagger.

"Now what?" she asked. Their benefactors stayed silent throughout the fight. The only noises came from Bheti soldiers shouting in their own language. She looked at the remaining soldiers. Two were left, back to back, defending against a wary circle of attackers.

"Now we find out who are benefactors are," said Damon as he strode toward the stand off. "Drop your weapons, and maybe they will spare you," Damon ordered. He stood back from the circle, the sword held loosely in his hand.

One of the soldiers understood him at least. "They killed the rest of us. How do we know they won't cut us down as well?"

Damon looked from one attacker to another, resting finally on the one coal-darkened face that had turned to face him. It was the wizened face of a woman.

"Madame, May I ask to whom we owe our rescue?" he asked with a slight bow.

The woman moved away from her position around the soldiers, and the circle immediately shifted to close the gap. She stood before Damon, nearly as tall as he. Taryn saw her gray hair through the layer of coal dust. "I am Erika, of Kaneltown. And you are?"

"We have escaped from Atheron," replied Damon. "You are a brave town to patrol the woods with such weapons."

Erika shrugged. "Finer weaponry would not help. We work the mines, we have little time for training with sword or pike."

Damon nodded. "And can you take these two soldiers with you? Do you have a place to keep them out of trouble?"

Erika looked back at her circle of miners. "This is not something we have prepared for."

"And is killing soldiers in the woods something you did prepare for?" asked Damon.

"Hmph. It's not a task we wanted. Nor did we want prisoners, but our town must work with the changing times."

Erika shouted to the soldiers. "We will abide by the rules of war. Disarm, and you will be taken under blindfold to our town."

The soldiers slowly let their swords drop to the ground. The miners made quick work of binding their hands and checking for hidden daggers.

Erika turned back to Damon. "What news of Atheron? We've been searching the woods for the lost who escaped there before the siege."

Damon looked away. "Atheron has fallen."

"Well they won't find the mines so easy to tame. You are welcome in Kaneltown. We have little to spare now, but we make do."

Damon studied the woman. "Your offer is kind, but my family and I are heading further north."

Taryn felt the intense gaze of the older woman as she eyed her and Sarai up and down, a doubtful expression growing on her face.

"As you wish," Erika said at last. "There are few towns further north from us, and you're not properly dressed for the snows of the north. Your fancy Atheron garb won't help you when the snows fall."

It was Damon's turn to shrug. "We had no time to get warmer clothing."

Erika clucked her tongue and walked around the three of them, sizing them up. Then she shouted, "Marika? Kiran, Caled."

Two women and a man came up at once.

"If you would, sir, you may switch garments with these three. They would welcome your rich clothes for their coarse ones. And if you are heading as far north as I might guess, you will need their thickly lined clothes and fur cloaks."

Damon turned to Taryn. She scanned the three miners, and then nodded her assent. The two groups of three struggled out of familiar garments and into unfamiliar. When Taryn finished tying the fur-lined boots on, she stood up to face her mirror, wearing Taryn's sable cloak and boots. Taryn's new outfit was wider in the waist, but short in arms and legs. Thick lined gloves covered the gap left by the shorter sleeves. She would be much warmer. She looked at Sarai and stifled a laugh. If Taryn were tall for a woman, Sarai was smaller even than most. Her traded clothes hung off her like a child playing dress up. Sarai struggled with folding up over-long sleeves, and Taryn offered to help. After a time, they were all settled into their new outfits. Damon fit well in his new clothes. The campfire was again burning brightly, with a dozen miners and two bound soldiers sitting around it. Birds began to chirp in the trees, harbingers of the coming dawn.

"Our packs?" asked Taryn. Damon pointed to the bushes beyond where he had been tied. Taryn went to check their provisions as Damon pulled Erika away for a private conversation.

Taryn returned, lugging their packs. "All is well." She handed over the packs as well as their original weapons.

Damon replaced his sword and gave the extra weapons to Erika. "Maybe you can convince your prisoners to train others with these. It may be some time before order is restored in Damek."

Erika accepted the weapons with a silent nod, and returned to her group of miners.

"We'll leave after breakfast," said Damon after Erika left. "The road to the Gethrig Mines will be hard going, but Erika tells me the dry goods stocked there would hold us through the winter."

Taryn sank down to the ground, and Sarai sat beside her. This would be their last full rest for days. Staring at the woman who now wore her clothes, Taryn could not help but feel she was leaving behind a part of herself.

Chapter 10

Weak sunlight filtered through the upper windows of the council chambers. Days of frantic cleaning and construction had returned most of the Keep to usable status. Phelin studied the reports Farrell had given him. The obese man sat across from him, his face dripping with meat juices from the platter before him. Phelin disliked slovenly manners. He prided himself on being sharp at all times, and he preferred his staff be the same. Roclan stood by the open doors to the chamber hall. Now he was a model guard. Roclan kept his balding head shaved and managed to restore his uniform to its pre-battle clean state. Even Vasali, sitting quietly in the far corner was better company than Farrell. She remained unusually reserved these past days, but the cleric was always enigmatic. At least she did not follow up on Fasal's suggestions to hunt through the tunnels beneath the Keep. He kept that family secret to himself. Phelin returned his attention to Farrell's reports.

"The landowners know what's best for them," growled Farrell over a mouth full of mutton.

"I am sure you were convincing," said Phelin. "What about the paths cut through the forest? How soon can we close those gaps?"

Fasal entered the chamber just then. "Why do you want to close them already, cousin? We spent so much creating them?"

Phelin clenched his fists under the table. "They're not suitable for trade routes, Uncle. It would be best to close them before bandits set up between our lands."

"Hmm. Well, Farrell, any news on Phelin's siblings?" asked Fasal.

Fasal enjoyed reminding Phelin of his relationship to those he ousted. Phelin would be glad when this relation left for good.

"No, nothing in my holdings," said Farrell.

"I'll find them soon enough," said Phelin. "I have scouts in the mountains, but I'd bet they've headed south to the troops by the sea."

Fasal's tossed his head back as he let out a deep laugh. "You mean the few who escaped when my galleons collected slaves?"

Phelin blanched. "What do you mean? I never approved of that."

"Of course not, cousin. That's why I'm here to help you with the hard choices. Come, don't look so shocked. You can't expect to hold this province with an armed and angry force of troops on your southern shores. Those were disguised slave ships off your coast."

Phelin looked away. Soon now, this man had to leave.

"The price they bring at auction will pay for the mercenaries I bought for you," Fasal continued.

Phelin's ire rose. "I don't like you meddling in my province, Fasal. This was not our agreement."

"Calm down, boy. I'm happy to leave Damek in your hands."

Phelin nodded.

"And the mercenary troops are here and paid for. The last thing I want is for some loyalist group to come after you."

Farrell interrupted Fasal's diatribe. "My border guards are heading into EastMarch as well. You promised me that shinaran witch, Lilei, and her lands for my aid."

Phelin grimaced. "Yes, yes," he said gruffly. Farrell blessed him with an evil grin.

Fasal stood by the door once more. "Then we are nearly done here. The last matter is the Lady Celina. She's to come back to Tramoran with me."

Phelin shot from the table, his chair crashing to the floor. "No. I won't agree to that. This is my foster-mother you're talking about."

"Precisely," said Fasal, un-phased. "She has too much influence over you. She stays in Tramoran as guest and hostage."

"That's not acceptable," said Phelin. He was losing control over the situation.

Fasal came back to the large oak table, leaning across it, his eyes narrowed. "Don't assume I need to ask for your acceptance, cousin. Whose soldiers surround this Keep?"

Phelin sneered. "Yours, Uncle."

Fasal stood back. "Good. We are agreed then. Celina comes with me, at least until her children are found. She will be well cared for."

Phelin hated him, with a burning rage, he hated Fasal. He closed his eyes a moment, and then spoke again. "If you will take Celina, then take Adele as well, and Lilei in EastMarch on your way back."

"No," said Farrell, "You promised me the shinaran would be mine!"

Phelin grabbed Farrell's thick head and slammed it into the man's food platter, sending bits of mash and meat flying. "You are my vassal, Farrell, and you will do as I say." Phelin shoved Farrell back in his chair. The man sat in stunned silence, food dripping off his rotund face. "Take the ladies with my foster-mother. They are fit companions for her."

Fasal nodded his assent, and with a smile, left the chamber. Phelin wiped the food bits off his hands and uniform. Someday, the roles will reverse, Uncle. Someday, he thought. Phelin righted his chair and sat back down. "Leave me," he said to the three who remained. Farrell left without a word, as did Roclan, but Vasali remained.

"I asked you to leave," said Phelin, his jaw tight.

Vasali rose from her seat. Her blue cleric robes clung to her as she approached. Phelin, to his shame, felt himself respond to her seductive nature. Vasali bent over him, her auburn hair brushed against the back of his neck, sending a thrill through his body. He could smell her scent, mixed with something spicy, enticing. She whispered to him, her full lips brushing his ear, deepening his arousal.

"His arrogance burns in you," she said, "I can feel it."

Phelin growled his agreement.

"Bide your time, my Phelin," she continued, "My master has far more planned for you than this."

Vasali stood tall, her firm breasts mere inches from Phelin. She smiled down at him, her hazel eyes dancing with reflected flames. She lifted her hood and walked out of the chamber without another word.

Phelin chuckled to himself, mildly abashed by his instinctual reaction to Vasali. He shook off the effects, and then called, "Roclan!"

Roclan came at once and stood before him.

"Sit," said Phelin. "Have you finished with the house staff?"

"Yes, my Lord. Seven will remain, fifteen have loyalty issues. They should be replaced."

"Good. Talk to Josep. I want them bartered for Bheti slaves."

Roclan protested. "My lord, they have families here. We can't just send them away like cattle or horses."

"I know you're against this, but I need loyal people around me." Phelin rested his hand on Roclan's shoulder. "Just give me time to solidify my province, and then this unpleasantness will be over."

Roclan nodded in silence.

"Good. Now what about the miners and the Guild-Hall? They won't come over without a fight, eh?"

"We've arrested most of the Guild in Atheron already, my Lord. As for the miners, Josep has agreed to bring in migrant workers from Tramoran for the next two seasons. The miners can either keep production going or be replaced."

"Excellent. But there must be some bad news, eh?"

"We haven't found Hort. And Sebran of Westeron has proved difficult. He has a band of riders with him in the west hills."

Phelin nodded. "Well, no coup is without its problems. Let's get Atheron running again. Once the townsfolk accept the new order, we'll be in a position to hunt down remnants like Sebran."

#

Moonlight glinted off a tear rolling down the young man's face. Vasali dipped her brush in her cup and painted a deep red trail, following the track of the lone tear. The young man trembled, but did not move. He could not. Vasali dipped her brush again and painted arcane symbols along his forearms and calves, up to the knots which bound him to stakes in the ground. Vasali shuffled to the side, rolling the body of a still-live mountain lion beside her. Blood gushed again from its torn chest, filling Vasali's cup. She returned to her work. Symbols covered the naked body of the young man, red-black markings on his pale skin. Vasali emptied the cup and walked to the arrow-riddled body of a black bear. It too still clung to life, steam escaping its muzzle as it panted. Vasali gathered more blood and returned to her human victim. The man's eyes opened wide as she sat beside his head. She ran a cool hand down one unadorned cheek.

"Scream too soon, and I shall cut out your tongue," she whispered. She removed his gag.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice raspy from screaming through the gag.

Vasali put a finger to his lips. "Nearly done," she said. She held open his mouth and filled it with the bear's warm blood. The man coughed, struggled.

"Swallow," she ordered. The man choked, and then gulped what remained in his mouth.

Satisfied, Vasali stood up again. Her head bowed, she chanted, "Master, accept this vessel. Transform him for your work."

Vasali's head shot up to the night sky. "Mesha Sarai! Marant al Scarava. Scarava! Scarava!" From the still night, a whirlwind came. Vasali stepped back from the prone man. "Scarava!" she shouted again.

The whirlwind whipped at her hair as it hovered over the man. Lightening flashed, striking man, bear, and lion. A chorus of howls arose from all three, high and clear. Vasali raised her hands, channeling the energies into her victim. "Scarava!" she said one last time, and then collapsed to her knees.

The whirlwind calmed, settling as a sickly yellow fog over the victim. She watched as it twisted and groaned. Acrid smoke stung her eyes, but still she watched. The body grew and spread, transformed.

"In your praise, Master," she whispered. The fog dissipated as a deep growl rumbled in the night. From the ground rose a hunched, furred man-beast. It stooped before Vasali, heaving its sulfurous breath down on her.

"Hunt the half-breed slave. Kill her." She ordered through clenched teeth. Vasali pulled out a deep green gown with golden spirals. The man-beast clutched it in clawed paws, sniffing. "Kill her."

The beast howled, shredding the dress with its protracted claws.

#

"The storm is getting worse," said Taryn. She tightened her fur-lined hood to block the wind-whipped snowflakes. Sarai trudged along through the deep snow beside her, not staying within the path cut by Damon's footfalls. How can she be so unaffected by the storm, Taryn grumbled to herself.

Damon paused in front of them, "You're right." He scratched icicles off the fur edge of his hood. "Gethrig Mines must be along this road soon."

Taryn scanned the snow-covered hillside around them. Scattered bare trees stood out from the blanket of white. There was nothing distinguishable in any direction. Taryn's breath came in short freezing gasps. "How can you tell if we are even on the road anymore?"

Damon's shoulders sagged. "We're still rising in elevation, heading mostly north and west."

"You're directional accuracy in a blinding snowstorm is a marvel," grumbled Taryn. Days of hiking in the mountains, and now through snow hadn't helped her short temper. She turned to Sarai. "Do you see anything? Any hope of shelter around here?"

Sarai pulled off her hood to scan the area. Wind and snow whipped at her coppery hair.

"Less trees up there," She pointed to their right. "The road maybe?"

Taryn restrained the urge to grin smugly at Damon. "Shall we try it?"

Damon turned up the slope in answer, cutting a new path based on Sarai's directions. They struggled on for a time. Snowdrifts buried them to their knees in spots as they pulled their way to the clearing. "This is why they close Gethrig in the winter," said Damon as he pulled Sarai out of a deep patch of snow. They traveled easier once they were in the clearing. A wide swatch of unbroken white snow lay above them, surrounded on all sides by tall snow-covered pine trees. The wind died down some.

"I'm not sure this is the road," said Damon.

Taryn brushed snow off her shoulders. "Well it's easier to walk along. There's a hard patch of snow under this storm's layer."

They walked along the edge of the clearing, heading again they hoped in a northwesterly direction. Damon was still in the lead, but Sarai had dropped back behind Taryn now, keeping within their tracks. Taryn smirked. Someone did not want to be hauled out of a snow bank again. They were nearing the edge of the clearing, facing the cover of trees, when Taryn felt a rumbling beneath her feet. All three paused to look around. She heard the distant sound of thunder. She looked to Damon and saw his face pale, his eyes glaze. Sarai screamed, pointing up hill. Taryn turned and saw a wave of white rippling down the center of the clearing. The ground rumbled, and the sound of thunder grew.

"Avalanche!" shouted Damon.

Taryn turned to him, "What do we do?" He did not answer, he just stood, frozen. Taryn felt the memory of her father's snowy death tug at her, and she knew Damon was lost in despair. "Damon, we need you. Do we run?"

He snapped out of his stupor. "Away from the clearing. Grab hold of a tree and hang on."

Taryn wrapped herself around the nearest tree, pushing herself through the lower branches. A wave of white fog crashed over them moments before the avalanche struck. A strong current of white powder streamed past her. Taryn shut her eyes and held on. Snow rumbled past her, beating away at her legs. She felt like she stood in a freezing river as the snow piled up her legs and swirled past her. Sarai screamed again. Taryn opened her eyes to see Sarai swept down the slope by a torrent of snow. The woman disappeared in a wave of white.

"Sarai!" Taryn screamed as the wind and snow howled around her.

Snow pulled at her legs, threatening to drag her down the slope. She did not dare turn to see how Damon fared. Her knees scraped against the rough bark as the snow plowed past her. Within moments, it was done. The rumbling noise in Taryn's ears dissipated. The push of snow against her slowed, then stopped. She shook off snow from the front of her hood. Without loosening her grasp, she turned. Damon held tight to a tree on her right. Already he was struggling against the mound of snow piled around him.

Taryn shouted, "She's gone Damon. I can't see her!"

Damon looked up at Taryn, then beyond her to where Sarai had been. His face and hood were caked with snow, his expression unreadable. "Dig yourself out first," he shouted as he squirmed and pushed his way free.

Taryn looked at the pile of snow around her. She could not move her legs at all. A mound of snow up to her thighs held her pinned against the tree trunk. She could only push herself side to side. Damon came beside her, kicking and shoveling snow away from her.

"She's down hill somewhere, Damon."

"I know," he said. He scanned the hillside beneath them as Taryn finally broke free. He grabbed her by the shoulders. "Can you sense her?" he asked, his eyes dark and hard.

Taryn closed her eyes, reached out for Sarai. "Yes," she gasped. "Yes, she's alive." Tears of relief rolled down her frozen face.

"Where is she?"

Taryn pulled him down through the trees, sliding some fifty feet or more. "She's here, somewhere here." Taryn looked at Damon.

She focused again. Sarai, we're here. We'll find you.

Taryn?

Yes, Can you speak? Talk out loud so we know exactly where you are?

Taryn listened. There it was, to her left, a muffled voice.

Damon reacted instantly. "I hear her." He dropped to his knees and dug furiously at the snow. Taryn clawed through the snow from the opposite side. Some three feet down, they unburied Sarai's legs. Her body was sprawled out, as if she tried to ride the wave of snow as it tumbled down. Damon dug through further down hill, moving mounds of snow with his arms as he searched for Sarai's head. "We found you," he said as he brushed clear her head and face.

Snow still held her torso firm but Damon cleared an air path to her head. Sarai's arms were wrapped protectively about her face, giving her an air pocket.They pushed away at the rest of the snow, and together, pulled Sarai free. She coughed weakly as tears streaked her scraped face.

"I lost my pack," said Sarai.

Taryn laughed and pulled Sarai into her arms. She felt small arms around her waist, shaking. "You're shivering," said Taryn, holding Sarai close.

Damon came up to examine Sarai more closely. He felt hands and booted feet. She could feel and move everything. "Short of some bruises, I think you're unhurt. Can you walk? We need to be clear of this area incase more snow lets loose."

Sarai nodded, and with Taryn's help, stood on weak legs.

"That shelter now, Damon?" Taryn asked more gruffly than she intended. She kept one arm firmly around Sarai as they struggled back uphill.

#

Smoke stung her eyes as Vasali crumpled more root of night-shade onto the burning coals of the brazier. Her room filled with pungent fumes. She stared into the brazier, letting the flickering red embers fill her eyes as the potent smoke filled her lungs. Her vision blurred, shifted.

"Scarava," she whispered.

Vasali shared the senses of the beast as it sniffed the trampled snow. The path led up to a stone building. The beast snorted, crouched low. On padded feet it approached the building. Brightness illuminated the windows against the dark night. It caught movement within. The beast sniffed the air by the door. Its prey had come here. Vasali felt the icy mountain air fill its heaving lungs, and then it bellowed.

Deep and loud it roared, and it battered against the wooden door. Once, twice, and on the third try, the wood splintered. Something inside screamed and the beast roared again. The door split in two and the beast pushed in, its fangs bared and claws protracted. A young man scrambled back from the door. The beast grabbed him, sunk its fangs into the soft neck and shook its victim until it stilled.

The beast scanned the room, sniffed for its prey. Vasali saw through the beast's eyes. Two other women were in the room, one older, greyed and weathered, the other one younger and smaller. Wrapped in a richly embroidered cloak, she trembled by the far wall. The beast tossed its victim away and circled toward its prey. The scent of the cloak filled its nostrils.

"Marika!" someone shouted as the beast stood its full height before the cowering woman. It raked through her thin flesh with its claws. Warm blood spilled over its paws. The blood-scent was wrong. The beast pulled the limp woman to its mouth and sunk its teeth into her neck. The taste of warm human flesh filled Vasali's mouth as the beast tore through its prey.

It dropped the body. In a rage, it turned on the others. Two men with knives entered the building. The beast howled. The body at its feet was not its prey. Vasali howled with the beast as it attacked the others barring its exit.

Vasali's vision cleared. The howling of the beast echoed in her mind as she kicked over the coals in her own rage. Red embers scattered on the gray stone floor. The half-breed tricked her. Vasali swung open the door, letting the trance smoke escape into the winter night. She walked out into the still inner courtyard of Damek Keep and hissed into the night, "I will feel the blood drain out of your still beating heart. You can not escape me."

#

Damon knelt in the snow before the heavy oak door of what they hoped was one of Gethrig's storerooms. "You're skills don't happen to include lock-picking, do they?" Damon asked as he looked up at Taryn with a smile.

"That's not typically taught at shinaran schools," she replied. A bold ray of sunlight snuck past the grey clouds overhead to shine off the metal lock barring their entry. Taryn looked around at the half-dozen other stone buildings in the small clearing.

It's the only one with a lock," she said, "Must be the food stores."

"Let's hope so," said Damon as he shoved a shoulder into the door. He groaned; it didn't.

"There were tools back in one of the other buildings. Maybe you can take the door off its hinge?"

Damon shoved against the door again. He leaned against it, breathing heavily. "Yes, maybe. Picking the lock would have been easier though. I mean if they bothered to teach you useful skills at that school of yours."

Taryn reached out to cuff him in the back of the head but he moved away too quickly. "Taking liberties, sir?" she shouted after him. He gave her a mock bow as he trudged through the snow to another building. Taryn leaned against the stone and sent two warm breaths into her gloves to fight the cold. Gethrig Mines proved to be a small outpost of buildings surrounding three separate mine shafts dug straight into the wall of the Northern Plateau. Behind the buildings, a wall of granite rose high above them. No tree or ledge broke the stark gray façade as it reached toward the sky. Not even Sarai's sharp eyes had seen anything but rock along the wide expanse of the plateau.

Sarai remained inside the smaller of the three tunnels. Since they dare not start a fire, Damon chose the tunnel as their main camp. Taryn could not complain. Deep within the tunnel, the air remained at a cool spring temperature. She taught Sarai how to create a small glow-light from the air particles around her. The light did not last long, but it was enough to light her way out or to aid in finding a lantern to light.

Taryn frowned as she thought of her companion. Sarai seemed off since they came here. She had stayed in the tunnels to sleep, keeping silent about her feelings, but Taryn knew she sensed something. Maybe it was being up against the Northern Plateau again. Sarai had shared with her the memory of her first home in Berat. Her home had been a multicolored, billowing tent within site of the eastern reaches of the Plateau wall. Taryn wondered again if this wall cut through the whole of the land or if there were some place where it ever ended.

"This should do," said Damon when he returned. He held up a mallet and an iron spike.

Taryn watched as Damon worked the hinges loose. When he finished, he handed her the tools. He pushed his shoulder against the door, and it groaned.

Damon looked at Taryn. "Care to lend a hand?"

She flattened the snow in a spot and put the tools down. Together they pushed until the door creaked open part way. It was enough for Taryn to sneak through.

"We have enough here to last awhile," she said as she surveyed the shelves lining the walls.

"What have we got?" asked Damon through the narrow opening of the door.

"Preserves. Cheese. Jars of pickled vegetables, dried meats." Taryn lifted a jug and sniffed its contents. "Some wine, if you trust it."

"Excellent. I'm going to find a rope or something to help pull the door shut when we're done."

Damon's padded footsteps diminished outside. Taryn pulled off a few jars and pushed them through the door. There was even a box of dry-bread in the corner, but Taryn did not take that yet. Hanging from a string beside the door was a thin iron key. She smiled and tucked it in her pocket. She grabbed some of the dried meat, and then pushed her way out the door as Damon approached with rope in hand.

"If we tie it on the handle, we can pull the door shut against rodents," said Damon.

Taryn smirked as she pulled out the key and dangled it in front of him. "Or you can repair the hinges and use this."

Damon looked forlornly at his rope, and then dropped it into the snow. "I'll bring down some of the wine when I'm done here," he said as he faced his latest task.

Taryn lit her way back through the tunnel. Multiple wall sconces held unlit lanterns the miners had left behind, but she did not need them. Better to save them for when they are all within the cave. Sarai was sitting in the dark when Taryn came around the last bend in the tunnel. Taryn put down her wares and lit a lantern in the far wall. Strategic shafts throughout the tunnels kept the air circulating, causing the light to flicker. She pulled off her gloves and cloak and set them by the sleeping mat she shared now with Sarai. They managed to find a replacement pack and blankets for Sarai's lost pack, but no bed mats. Not that Taryn was complaining that she had to curl up next to Sarai every night.

She sat beside the quiet woman. "We found the store rooms. We're likely to grow round and lazy over the winter months if we stay in here," she said with a smile. Sarai returned a weak grin.

"What's wrong?" Taryn asked, tentatively taking the other woman's warm hand in hers.

Sarai leaned in to her, resting on Taryn's shoulder. "I do not know. I feel something strange here, like I should remember something."

Taryn nodded. "It reminds you of home, doesn't it, your first home."

"Yes, some. Maybe that is all."

Damon stomped into the cavern with another lantern in one hand and a jug of wine in the other.

Sarai pulled away from Taryn.

"Successful repair?" Taryn asked, her hands now idle in her lap.

"As if we were never there. I cleared up most of our foot-traffic as well, just incase."

Taryn's hands trembled. She had all but forgotten they were still being hunted.

"Snow's coming again. I left some shovels by the opening incase we get snowed in."

Sarai sat upright, her eyes focusing inward.

Taryn tensed. "What is it?"

"Someone approaches, in the woods."

Damon doused his lantern. "Put out that one as well."

Sarai put out the other lantern as Taryn created a glowing ball of light. It was barely enough to see the perimeter of their small cave.

"We should seal the cave with snow. If a storms coming they may not even realize a tunnel is here," said Taryn.

Damon agreed. The three traced their way back to the mouth of the tunnel. The wind whipped snow around and into the tunnel opening. Damon grabbed a shovel and began shifting more snow across the opening. Taryn reached out mentally. She sensed the guards now, at least three. They were not within the circle of buildings yet. She could not tell if they were Phelin's guards or Fasal's. Not that it would matter if they were found.

"We should seal ourselves in for a time," she suggested. "The ventilation shafts within the tunnels will keep our air fresh."

Damon struggled at the opening, pouring in snow. The light grew dim as he slid past the new pile of snow and into the cave.

"I can't seal it all the way," he said, breathing heavily.

"Maybe we can." Taryn called Sarai forward. They clasped hands and she felt the power in Sarai building. Taryn closed her eyes and concentrated on the storm outside. She channeled the wind and drifting snow into a small whirlwind. They had to step back a few paces as the wind whipped more snow into and over the tunnel opening. Within moments the seal was complete, only a faint glow showing where the opening had been.

Still, the power channeled through her from Sarai. Taryn began to sweat. She could hear the wind howling as it forced more snow over the tunnel opening. She had to dissipate the power and break contact before the snow seal became impenetrable. Taryn focused on the whirlwind, searching for a weakness. She sensed the wind pattern she had created and forced changes in wind direction.

The power from Sarai still flowed. Taryn sensed snow squalls forming in all directions around the mouth of the cave. Bring down your energy, Sarai.

Nothing changed. Beads of sweat trickled down Taryn's neck. I can't do this alone, please. Rein it back in, Sarai.

Sarai's face was a mask of darkness. Her eyes glazed.

Focus, Taryn pleaded.

Slowly, the power lessened. Taryn felt the whirlwind dissipate. Squalls continued to race through the compound outside, but they were not directly under Taryn's control anymore. With a deep sigh, Sarai let go, and the power flow stopped. Both women slumped against the tunnel walls.

"What happened?" asked Damon. In the dim remaining light his expression was unreadable.

"Same as always happens," said Taryn. Sarai looked away, and Taryn regretted her words. "We managed to regain control this time though," she added hopefully. "That's an improvement."

Sarai moved off down the dark tunnel, not bothering to light her way.

Damon put a hand on Taryn's shoulder as she lit the way for herself and Damon. "Do you have special vision in the dark?" he asked as Sarai disappeared around a bend.

"Not me, just her."

Chapter 11

Roclan and Josep stood quietly by as Phelin paced the renovated main hall. Fresh wood covered most of the old room, but a burnt smell lingered. Phelin raged. "So now we have Sebran's band in the west and miners with an attitude coming down from the mountains."

The other two men shared a glance.

"Any other good news, gentlemen?"

Roclan looked to Josep again. "Someone's been at the granaries," he said.

Phelin stood still. "How bad?"

"We've lost a third of the winter's store."

Phelin's jaw clenched and unclenched, matching the actions of his empty hands. "Recommendations?" he asked finally.

Josep stepped forward. "Focus on Sebran for now. He's the main threat. If Taryn or Alek make it to Sebran, you'll have a full scale revolt on your hands."

Phelin sank into the richly embroidered chair by the stone hearth. "Do it then." He turned to them. "And interrogate the good folk returning to Atheron. Find someone to blame for the granary attack and make an example."

"It may not have been anyone in Atheron," said Roclan. "They're the ones going to suffer most from the lack of grain this winter."

Phelin's eyes narrowed. "I want an example made. I don't care how you do it."

Roclan bowed. Phelin turned away, staring up at the portrait of Brion still hung above the hearth. "And remove that," he said, point up. "Remove them all." He waved his hand at the string of portraits circling the main hall. The men bowed out of the hall, leaving Phelin to himself. He glared at Brion's portrait. The large man stared down at him from the painting as if admonishing his foster-son for his lack of faith.

"How was I to know your plans, eh? You never told me Tramoran was to be mine." Phelin stared at the portrait. "Damek needed me. This place was weak since you left." Phelin stood and turned away. "It doesn't matter. I have Damek now. And someday I'll have Tramoran as well." He waved a hand behind him, as if brushing off the nagging reminder of his own guilt. He left the main hall in quick strides.

#

"Can you put any weight on it?" asked Taryn as Sarai sat on the snow bank clutching her left ankle.

"I do not know," Sarai replied. Her face looked pale in the silvery moonlight.

Damon crouched down, "Help me lift her."

Taryn wrapped an arm under her shoulder, and they lifted her up. Sarai stood on one foot And gingerly tried to put weight on her injured ankle. She winced in pain and leaned heavily on Taryn.

"I can help her back to the tunnel if you grab the rest of the supplies," said Taryn.

Damon swung his pack on his back, and then Sarai's new pack, both full of fresh winter berries. "We shouldn't have stayed out past dark."

"I could see well," said Sarai, "I did not take care. The fault is not yours, but mine."

Taryn interrupted them, "It's just an accident. We'll get back to camp and see how bad it is."

They trudged out of the woods toward the clearing. The tall pines opened to a snow-covered landscape, the moon casting is sliver light over the circle of stone buildings. They followed a path in the snow leading around to the south facing slope of the plateau. The wall stood gray in a landscape of white. They stopped a moment as Damon kicked away the snow drifts before their tunnel opening and pushed back the plank of wood they used as a makeshift door. He dropped the packs, felt inside for the dry torch and worked the flint to light it. The passageway leading down to their camp was just wide enough to allow Taryn and Sarai to hobble along shoulder to shoulder. They brushed the rough rock walls of the tunnel as they maneuvered the many bends. The air warmed as they descended, and Taryn was sweating when they finally entered the cavern where they camped.

Damon set the torch in the far wall sconce and lit a lantern, placing it on a table they'd stolen from one of the buildings. "I'm going back to set the door and grab the packs."

Taryn settled Sarai down on their bed mat as Damon left the chamber. She worked off Sarai's cloak and right boot. She stared at the left boot covering the injured ankle. "You probably want to lie back while I do this," she said.

Sarai lay down on the blankets. Taryn positioned herself by the injured ankle and slowly pried off the boot. Sarai winced, but said nothing. A deep purple bruise covered the outside ankle. She rested her hands on Sarai's leg. "It will go easier of you can slip into a relaxed state."

Sarai nodded and closed her eyes. Taryn breathed in and held her hands over the bruised ankle. She scanned lightly first. The bone was cracked, but not broken. She felt Sarai's barriers lower and she took that as her signal to go on. Taryn slipped into a healing trance. Blood canals, bone and muscle became part of her as her hands hovered over the injury. She focused on the blood first, mending and dissipating the old blood.

She sensed Sarai's presence as she worked, watching, following Taryn as she deepened the link. Taryn focused on the bone next, repairing the small crack. The last to be healed were the strained muscles around the ankle. Taryn shifted her hands as she focused the energy toward the calf muscles. Sarai stayed with her. At times it felt like Sarai's hands overlay her own, shifting, healing.

The warmth of Sarai's contact penetrated Taryn's body. She felt a heat rising within her. To her surprise, she sensed a matching sensual response in Sarai. Taryn's face flushed as she pulled out of the trance, slowly, regretfully. She opened her eyes as Sarai's small hand searched for hers. Taryn's heart beat rapidly within her. She looked into Sarai's golden eyes, shining in the dim light.

Sarai pulled her down. Taryn rested on an elbow, letting her loose black hair cascade over Sarai's head like a dark veil. Sarai's hand brushed through her hair, letting the soft strands filter through her fingers. Taryn barely breathed, she was within inches of the other woman's deep, red lips. Sarai's hand slipped to the back of Taryn's neck, sending a thrill down her back. Sarai pulled her closer. Taryn closed her eyes as her lips brushed against Sarai's.

Heat flooded through Taryn. She felt every part of Sarai's body against hers as she sank into the embrace. Their barriers still low, Taryn sensed the heat of Sarai's need matching her own pulsing desire. Lips caressed her cheek, and then nibbled her ear. Taryn pulled Sarai closer, pressing against her, feeling the woman's curves beneath exploring hands. Oh, how she wanted this. Sarai's hand slipped under her tunic and she felt the soft fingers caress her heated flesh. She kissed Sarai more deeply, felt the lips part to her.

A noise behind her barely registered, but then she felt Sarai shrink back, pushing her off. Sarai slammed shut the link they'd shared. Taryn rolled away, clutching her head. It throbbed from the shock of Sarai's actions. Damon's flickering torch announced his approach before he turned the last bend in the tunnel. By the time he reached them, Sarai had curled into a ball facing the wall, and Taryn was pushing her fingers along her temple, working to relieve her intense headache.

"We're settled in warm and cozy for the night," Damon announced.

"Yes, thanks," said Taryn without looking up.

"How is she?"

"It's mended. She'll need to give it a few days for the bone to fully mend, but the pain should be gone by morning." Taryn rested her head in her hands.

"Healing gives you a headache?" asked Damon.

"Something like that."

"I'll put out the lights. We could all use a good rest tonight."

Taryn mumbled her thanks as complete darkness enveloped the cavern. She heard Damon shuffle back to his sleeping mat and settle in. She'd almost relieved the pressure in her head. She wondered if Sarai's head throbbed as well. Taryn had to teach her never to shut down a link like that. It really was potentially dangerous.

Taryn kicked off her own boots, and then lay stiffly next to Sarai. She felt too confused and rejected to shift herself under the blanket with the smaller woman. Why had Sarai pulled away like that? Taryn knew Sarai wanted her, she felt it before the link was shut.

Sarai shifted beside her. She felt the woman pull the blanket up to cover them both. Her arm lay across Taryn's stomach. Please forgive me.

I love you, Sarai.

And I you, but no one must know.

Why not? Damon knows about me. I think everyone but my mother knows by now.

It is forbidden, ni'hen!

Taryn wanted to pull away but Sarai held her tight, curling her body around Taryn.

This isn't Berat, Sarai. Our love is not forbidden or unclean here.

Please, I can not. Not in front of others. Is it not enough we have found each other?

Taryn slipped her arm under Sarai, cradling the other woman in her arms. It's more than I ever dreamed.

She felt Sarai's lips searching for her own. They kissed, softly, and then lay quietly in the dark until sleep overtook them.

#

Vasali tracked her demon-beast through the smoke-vision. She felt it plod through the snow in the early evening dusk. Cold did not penetrate its thick black fur. The scent was old here, scarce. The beast followed the track as it veered down an old snow mound, then back up to a snowy clearing wrapped in trees. Vasali heard voices somewhere near the scarav. It sniffed the air, growling low. The beast kept to the track. Light flickered head. Three humans came into the clearing in front of the beast. Vasali recognized three guards in Damek livery.

The beast reared up and howled. Birds flew from the trees. The beast's keen ears heard the weapons slide free as the guards approached. Its claws came out in silence. A soft flutter, then pain as an arrow sank into the beast's leg. Faster than Vasali could register, the beast attacked. It ripped through the first guard, tearing off the limb that clutched a bow.

Pain laced through the beast's back and Vasali screamed. She lost the link, breathing in short gasps from the shadow-pain. Vasali stared back into the smoke. She felt the battle-rage before she linked fully with the beast again. Two guards lay bleeding at its feet now. The third backed down the snowy slope, bright red drops of blood marking the guard's path. The beast roared, but did not attack. The guard waved a yellow flaming torch at the beast, holding it at bay.

Heat mingled with a dull ache down the beast's back. Vasali saw its black blood mingle with that of its victims in the snow. She dropped the link just as the beast tasted of hot human flesh.

#

Sarai controlled a small glow of light as Taryn and Damon heaved the makeshift door from the tunnel opening. Snow drifted down on them as soon as the door was clear, piling up to their knees. Damon tested the wall of white with the shovel. A block of snow tumbled down on him, dusting his head and shoulders. Sunlight streamed through the new hole.

Taryn held her side, laughing. "Got a bit of snow last night, did we?"

Damon answered her with a snowball.

"Hey," Taryn grumbled, brushing the snow off.

Damon pushed through the tunnel opening before she could strike back. Outside, the air was crisp and clear. Taryn pulled Sarai free of the snow mound. Their eyes held each other as gloved fingers lingered together. Sarai smiled up at her. And then a snowball hit the middle of Taryn's back. She turned in time to duck the next snowball. It slammed squarely into Sarai's chest.

"Are you alright?" she asked, reaching out to Sarai. Sarai stepped back, and Taryn had just enough time to duck again when Sarai lobbed a return volley at Damon. Within minutes they were laughing, panting, and sitting in snow. Taryn tried to catch her breath.

"You think," she said between gasps, "We can get some fresh meat today?"

Damon looked at the clear sky, "Yes, seems a good day to hunt. There's a bow and quiver of arrows in the tools storage."

"Excellent. Sarai, have you ever been on a hunt, a real hunt?"

"No."

"We'll you're with one of the best now," Taryn said with pride.

"You?" Sarai asked, her eyes wide.

"No, no." Taryn blushed. "I mean Damon here. Damek's best, he is."

Damon gave a mock bow. "Flattery will get you a tasty dinner, ladies."

Taryn stood up and offered a hand to Sarai. Damon trotted off to get the weapons and they followed at a more leisurely pace. Their fingers entwined as they walked. When Damon went out of sight, Taryn paused. She leaned into Sarai, cupping her face in gloved hands. Sarai gazed into her eyes, wetting her lips. Taryn kissed her gently. Sarai pulled her in close, her tongue flicking Taryn's lips. Mind and body linked with a heated passion.

Neither noticed when Damon returned. He let out a fake cough.

Taryn jumped. Sarai pulled back, her hands covering her mouth. Taryn braced for the painful severing of the link, but it did not happen this time. Sarai let out a soft whimper, then fled. Taryn called after her. "Sarai, please. It will be alright."

Damon chuckled. "Sorry, didn't mean to cause trouble."

Taryn pushed him into the snow and went after Sarai. "Come back."

Sarai stopped. Taryn slowed as a flash of fear struck her across their shared link. Her ears flooded with Sarai's voice, but the words were unintelligible.

"You're speaking Berati. Please, what's wrong," Taryn shouted. Sarai kept rambling. Taryn followed the woman's gaze. At first she saw just a lumbering animal. Bear maybe?

Damon caught up with her. "Still won't talk to you?"

"No, it's something else." Taryn pointed, "Can you see it? A bear?"

They stopped by Sarai. Her gaze never left the beast but she clung onto Taryn's arm, her small hands clenching tight. That's when Taryn finally felt it. Through Sarai she saw the beast in stark detail. It was as large a man, covered in matted black fur, eyes glowing red. Its mouth opened revealing a set of sharp fangs.

"Oh Gods, Damon," said Taryn as she drew her sword. "It's a monster." She felt the blood drain from her cheeks. She'd seen this monster before, painted on the ceiling in Damek Keep. "Damon, it's a Scarav."

Damon pulled an arrow out of the quiver. The demon-beast was clearly visible now. It sniffed the air, and then watched them, pulling itself up to its full height. Damon let loose on the bow. The arrow sank deep into the beast's hide. It roared. Two more quick arrows flew in rapid succession, striking shoulder and chest.

Damon managed on more arrow as the beast lumbered toward them. Taryn moved Sarai to the side, to keep her away from the beast and Damon, but as soon as they moved, the beast changed directions. It was tracking. Taryn pulled Sarai back behind her. "It's after me," she shouted.

Damon reached the beast first, hacking at the front paws. The scarav reared up and attacked. Damon swung wildly at the beast, but it seemed immune to the pain of its black, oozing cuts. Claws exposed, it lashed at Damon.

Then in a leap, it crashed into Damon, pinning him down in the snow.

"No!" Taryn ran to her friend, her sword in the air. She hacked down across the scarav's exposed back, drawing slick black blood. The beast howled. A long clawed paw struck out at her sword arm.

Taryn screamed. Her sword dropped from her bleeding arm.

The beast sniffed the air again. It turned for Sarai, leaving Damon and Taryn.

"It's after Sarai!" she screamed, grabbing her sword in her left hand. She circled in front of the beast, cutting it off from Sarai. Taryn could not even scratch the scarav before it raked its claws across her chest and slammed her body to the ground.

Her own hot blood leaked from gashes across her chest and thigh. Her eyes filled with tears as she tried to rise again. The scarav turned from her, relentlessly tracking Sarai. Taryn pulled herself up to her knees. Her vision blurred as something ran past her. Damon. He grabbed up her sword and sliced across the beast's back again.

"Get her out of here!" he shouted as he circled and cut at the beast.

Taryn pulled herself up. Her right arm lay useless, numb. She stumbled over to Sarai, who stood frozen with fear. "Come on," said Taryn pulling at her. Damon kept the scarav at bay, cutting and circling just beyond its reach. He was bleeding badly.

So was Taryn. She coughed. Pain laced her chest. Sarai held her up, half dragging her away from the fight. Taryn blinked, the tears stinging her eyes. The gray jagged wall of the Northern Plateau stretched upward in front of them. They were cut off from the buildings and their tunnel. Sarai pulled her up when she slumped to the snow. The beast growled behind them. How can they kill it, a demon-beast that crawled out of the pages of myth? Taryn closed her eyes. The painting from the chamber hall came back to her. A man on a wild stallion, rearing before a crouching scarav. But the man had no sword. It swung a torch as its only weapon.

"Fire," she rasped. "It can only be killed with fire."

The beast howled.

Taryn turned. Damon's body went limp as the beast sank its fangs into his throat and shook him like a cat toying with a rodent.

"No," Taryn sank to the ground. "Damon," she whispered. Her own blood stained the white snow around her.

Sarai pulled at her. "We have to run. He is gone now. The beast comes for us."

Warm tears streamed down Taryn's face. "I can't."

Sarai looked from her to the beast. It tossed aside Damon's body. "Please, move."

"Sarai, I can't feel my legs."

Sarai looped her arms under Taryn's shoulders, dragging her through the snow. Red streaks stood out in harsh contrast to the white snow. The beast stood, staring at them across the field. Sarai let out a small whimper, tugging, dragging Taryn. The beast lowered itself on all paws and trotted toward them. Taryn felt Sarai's panic growing.

Focus, Sarai. Attack with a fireball.

Sarai was beyond listening. Her chest heaved from unsuppressed rage as her panic grew. Sarai's power rose at a frightening rate. She would not be able to control it. Taryn joined Sarai and felt herself drawn into maelstrom of power whipping around her. Lightning flashed out from their shared link. Taryn harnessed the energy with her remaining strength. Her legs were going numb.

A burst of lightening broke free of them and struck the beast full in the chest. It flew back, landing in a black smoking clump. Sarai collapsed in the snow beside Taryn as the power faded.

Taryn breathed in shallow gasps. Pain filled every breath. "It's taking over," she said, "The numbness. A poison, I think."

Sarai pulled her closer. "Heal it."

Taryn gazed into Sarai's golden eyes. "I can't. I haven't the strength."

Tears spilled down Sarai's dark cheeks. "Together? Show me how," she pleaded.

Taryn's eyes fluttered, and then opened. "I'm not in any pain," she lied.

"No, you can not leave me now."

"I'm sorry, my love." Taryn reached up to dry Sarai's tears. The woman dipped her head to rest lightly on Taryn's. Wet drops fell on Taryn as Sarai stroked her hair with shaking hands.

"Please, do not leave me."

Movement distracted Taryn. She turned, and Sarai followed her gaze. The scarav. It rolled in the snow, pulling itself back up. Steam rose from its charred body.

Taryn turned back to Sarai.

Sarai closed her eyes. "No," she whispered.

NO, she bellowed with such force that Taryn winced in pain. Sarai stood up, pulling her small dagger. She staggered, and then braced herself. Her face was smeared with dirt and blood. Her hands shook as she held the dagger out. Taryn wanted to cry, wanted to tell her to run, but there was no place else to go. Sarai tightened her grip on the dagger. The beast lumbered closer, then fell back into the snow, motionless. Taryn prayed it would not move again. If it died, maybe Sarai would survive on her own.

Confusion washed over Sarai's expression. She turned around, scanning the granite wall behind them.

"What is it?" asked Taryn.

Sarai linked with her. Then Taryn heard it too. A voice. A chorus of lyrical voices. Urging calm.

We are here, lost one.

Chapter 12

Taryn's own vision blurred, but Sarai held the shared link. Through her, Taryn saw the figures of a half dozen beings floating down the edge of the plateau, as if they were dark snowflakes from the clear blue sky. As they landed, they form a loose circle. Taryn felt the intense, focused power building from their small circle. Shinaran? Out here?

But they weren't. They were foreign, alien to her.

Their power built and focused. Taryn heard the beast whine. Her own eyes caught sight of the scarav as it lay dying in the snow. Sarai turned away from the newcomers as well, sensing the beast. She put herself in front of Taryn, her dagger clutched in two small hands.

The power circle behind them struck. A wall of fog separated Sarai and Taryn from the beast. She heard it whine and thrashed, but she could not see through the white fog. The whining weakened, became low grunts, then crying, gasping. As the power faded, so did the fog. A young man lay where the beast had been. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds. The man held out his hand in brief supplication as his eyes locked on Taryn's. Then he lay still in the trampled, bloody snow.

Taryn's eyes drifted shut. She breathed slowly, shallow. She felt very little pain now. Most of her body was numb. Sarai was with her, holding her head. Taryn smiled, or thought she did. Someone was here for Sarai. She'd be safe.

Taryn drifted off into grayness.

#

Celina of Damek sat in her saddle, staring into the clear blue horizon as Fasal's escort led her party through the quiet streets of Atheron, heading east. Fasal himself led the military entourage some few paces in front of her, but she did not spare him a glance. No words had passed between them since he explained her status as hostage for Phelin's good behavior. As for her foster-son, she refused to acknowledge him as she and Adele left Damek Keep with Fasal's soldiers. His betrayal stung more deeply than anything her husband's half-brother could do to her.

Shopkeepers and other townsfolk came out as their troupe passed by. Celina marveled that so few of Atheron's people had returned yet, but there were enough to watch her as she rode, the last known remnant of their ruling family. Weary faces captured her attention, eyes that glittered in the cold day. Were they sad for her and her family, or just worried about their own future under Phelin?

One figure caught her eye as they reached the edge of the town. He was tall, broad shouldered, wearing a tattered gray cloak with the hood pulled tight over his head. His stance held none of the submissive slouch as the other townsfolk. As her horse walked by, he pushed forward from the two figures beside him, but they held his arms, held him back.

It was then that Celina saw his face in the weak winter sunlight. Blue eyes bore into her, as if straining to make a link with her across the distance. She knew he could never make that mental link, but she acknowledged him, with a slight nod of her head. Then her horse carried her beyond the town's edge and out of view of his blue eyes, so like his father's.

Celina squared her shoulders and even smiled at the guardsman who rode between her and Adele. What did it matter, this slow pompous parade through her town? Her son lived. She knew beyond all doubt that at least one of her children lived on.

#

All was quiet in her gray world. She remembered something about a man and a beast. Hallucinating? Taryn tried to blink, but she could not feel anything.

Sarai?

Taryn's mind went blank for a time. Then she seemed to wake again. Sarai knelt beside her. Taryn could barely feel the woman pick up her head. Sarai was there, soothing her thoughts. It was all Taryn could sense now, thoughts and the occasional sound of crunched snow underfoot.

Her vision faded in and out. She saw a pair of strange black faces staring down at her. Gold eyes, brilliant copper hair against the blue sky. She closed her eyes again. Why did death take so long to come?

Then she felt it, an alien mind in hers. Taryn struggled. She pulled up her barriers as best she could. The mind was so foreign, inhuman.

Sarai spoke in her ear. "Let him in, Taryn. He's a healer."

Nothing made sense to her.

"Please, let me bring him in." Sarai pleaded.

Taryn lowered her weak barriers. Sarai's love and worry washed over her. Taryn calmed, centered herself, then the alien mind came again. Taryn felt herself withdraw again, but Sarai was there, Sarai stayed with her. Taryn kept herself controlled, barely, as the other mind penetrated her wounds. He? it? Taryn could not tell. The being probed deeper than Taryn had ever experienced. She followed him as he sought out and removed the numbing poison. Slowly, feeling returned to Taryn's body. She focused better now, following the other mind as he worked through torn muscle and blood canals, mending, healing with deft skill. The mind pulled out slowly. Taryn opened her eyes. She could see and feel again, but movement was slow, laborious.

"Thank you," she said weakly. The alien man gave her a brief glance, and then turned back to Sarai.

"Please, speak openly." Sarai said. "She can not hear you."

The dark man turned back to Taryn. His large gold eyes stared into hers. His narrow face and copper hair reminded her of Sarai.

"She is not of us," he said, his voice deep and musical. "She should remain here."

Taryn turned to Sarai. "What is he talking about?"

Sarai cradled her head, caressed her cheek. "He wants me to return with him. He says I am of his people."

Taryn looked into Sarai's gold-flecked eyes. Yes, she could see the resemblance. Sarai's hair and lighter skin still held the clear markings of the alien man. Taryn turned back to the man. "Altaran?" she whispered. More myths come to life?

"Yes, we are what your kind call Altaran."

Taryn felt the sting of his words. Her kind. A kind he obviously disliked.

"How many of you are there?" she asked.

Sadness washed over him. "Few survived the invasion of your people."

Invasion? "I don't understand."

The man turned back to Sarai. "We must return now. She should stay here with her own kind." He held a hand up for Sarai, as if greeting a child, "And you should return to yours, lost one."

Sarai brushed his hand aside. "No. We stay together." Sarai's hand held Taryn's tightly, as if she feared they would be pulled apart.

The strange man leaned back, settling on his knees. He looked from Sarai to Taryn and back. "Are you bond-mates?" he asked.

Taryn looked at him, confused. He linked with her directly, sending an image of lovers wrapped in the heat of passion. Taryn blushed furiously, as did Sarai. Obviously Sarai could share in any link with the Altaran with ease.

The Altaran man laughed softly at their embarrassment. "As you wish, but she will be isolate in our lands if she can only hear when directly linked. Verbal speech is a novelty few of us practice."

He held out his hand, palm outward. "I am Ab'ehan."

Sarai mimicked his gesture. "I am Sarai, and this is Taryn."

He nodded, "Sar'hai and Tar'n. You are welcome to the clan of Ehan."

Taryn pulled herself up, leaning heavily on Sarai. In silent unison, the band of Altaran walked to the base of the plateau. Taryn studied the Altaran. They dressed in white leathers from boot to fur-lined hood. Each had the distinct copper hair and brilliant gold eyes. Taryn glanced at Sarai beside her. The woman differed from the Altaran in height and muted skin tone, but otherwise the resemblance was obvious.

One Altaran woman stood amongst the others, her long copper hair bound with an intricate white lace netting. Like the other Altaran, this woman was silent, openly staring at Taryn.

They think you a novelty, Sarai informed her.

Ab'ehan stopped beside them. "We return now, but we must separate you for the journey. We can assist only one at a time up the Great Wall."

Sarai looked up the steep granite slope. "How will we get up there?"

Ab'ehan nodded to the Altaran woman. "Ser'elis will take you. I will take your Tar'n as she is too heavy for the others."

Taryn looked down at Ab'ehan. Taller than the other Altaran by far, but he still came only to her shoulder. Sarai squeezed her hand gently before leaving her to Ab'ehan's care. He wrapped one arm around her waist. Sarai and Ser'elis were similarly joined. Taryn fought back a twinge of jealousy at seeing Sarai in the arms of another woman. Power built around them. Taryn felt its distinct tingle before the air shifted around her, heated. A small vortex swirled around each of them, circling them with warm, dry air. And then Taryn felt the pull, the vortex slowly lifting her and Ab'ehan up higher and higher.

Taryn glanced down only once during the ascent. Watching nothing but air beneath her feet as she rose made her decidedly uncomfortable. Moments later, she welcomed the feel of well-trampled snow beneath her boots once again. They were above the ridge of the plateau, facing a wide stretch of massive evergreen trees. Snow blanketed this land as well, clinging to tree and branch.

Taryn struggled for breath, feeling light-headed. Ser'elis approached, along with Sarai. Her voice carried that same musical quality as she spoke. "The tight in your chest will not last. You will adjust to the air here." She smiled, a flash of pearly teeth against her black face.

No, not black. Taryn looked closer. It was more a deep brown, like her mother's eyes. Taryn closed her eyes to hold back the tears at the thought of her family. Sarai was at her side, her hand slipping into Taryn's. She opened her eyes to see Sarai worriedly watching her. Taryn could stand on her own now, but she felt very weak. Most of the Altaran ran into the woods, returning moments later with a series of buckskin ponies. The ponies came without lead ropes, following each Altaran like trained dogs.

Ab'ehan brought the largest pony to Taryn. "This one will carry you both to our hearth."

Taryn eyed the pony warily. It had no saddle or lead rope. She watched as the Altaran vaulted onto their ponies and led them with clicks of the tongue and subtle calf movements. She smiled. Not so magical after all, she thought, just very well trained. Sarai and Ab'ehan gave Taryn a boost up. Her legs dangled embarrassingly far below the pony's belly. Sarai pulled herself up behind Taryn and still the pony did not complain. Taryn wondered if they could crossbreed the Damek paint with these stocky ponies. The offspring could be excellent draft horses. They joined the Altaran as they wound their way silently through the snow-covered forest.

#

After hours of riding, the trees opened up to a small clearing. A thin stream of clear water trickled along the edge of the forest, and beyond lay a stone and wood village. Two dozen or more small huts gathered in clusters of two or four along the one main path. Men and women stopped their work to stare at the newcomers. A handful of small Altaran children scampered along beside Taryn's horse, pointing and giggling. Taryn could feel her cheeks blushing from the attention. As the horses drew to a stop by a central unused fire pit, the band dismounted. Sarai dropped off first, and then helped Taryn steady herself after she slid off. The pony followed along with the others, leading themselves off to pasture somewhere beyond the village boundaries.

Taryn looked around at the sea of silent dark faces staring up at her. Most were staring, but a few faces smiled at her as well. "Now I know how you must have felt," she said, thinking of Sarai's differences amongst the paler folk of Damek.

Sarai chuckled, slipping her arm through Taryn's to steady her. Can you hear them all? Listen through me.

Sarai's mind linked Taryn into the noisy chatter of the Altaran village. There was a jumble of words and images passing around them, unlike anything Taryn had ever experienced. She shut her eyes, but still felt disoriented.

Ab'ehan turned to her. You will learn to shut out what is not of interest.

Taryn nodded, but pulled herself out of the link with Sarai. "It's too much," she said, rubbing her temples. Her knees felt as if they would give way under her.

"She needs rest," said Sarai, slipping an arm under Taryn's shoulder.

After a moment of silent chatter which Taryn thankfully could not hear, Sarai led her to a small stone hut off the central path. Taryn had to duck through the doorway but once inside, the place seemed light and comfortable. It was really one main room, with storage shelves and chairs, separated from the sleeping area by a thick hanging drape. Sarai led her to the mound of sleeping furs in the bedroom area. She dropped her stiff, dirty cloak to the floor and looked down in dismay at the blood staining her breeches and tunic. Sarai left her a moment, and then returned with a thick flannel nightshirt.

"Thank you," said Taryn. Their eyes met, and each blushed furiously before Sarai turned away to let Taryn undress.

The shift felt soft against her cold skin. Taryn sank down into the welcome softness of the bed furs. Sarai helped cover her with furs. "Will you stay with me," asked Taryn softly.

Sarai slid under the topmost cover, pulling Taryn in beside her. She caressed Taryn's cold cheeks, her fingers gently tracing Taryn's jaw and down along the open neck of her shift. Taryn's eyes fluttered shut. She wanted to stay awake, wanted to pull Sarai down on top of her. Sarai lifted her hand and kissed each fingertip.

"Sleep," she urged, but Taryn fought against her exhaustion.

She tugged at the emerald ring on her finger. "I want you to take this."

Sarai frowned.

"Please," said Taryn as the ring came loose. She lifted Sarai's small hand and slid the ring over her middle finger. "It was a gift from my father," said Taryn.

Sarai made to pull it off, but Taryn held her hands. "But it is all you have of your family," said Sarai.

"No. You are my family now." Taryn held Sarai's hand up, "I love you."

And I, you.

Taryn straightened the ring on Sarai's hand. It felt loose, but not so much that it would fall off. Taryn could have a silversmith adjust it, assuming these people had silversmiths.

"But are we safe here?" Taryn muttered, her eyes refusing to open now.

"We are safe."

Taryn resistance dissolved then, letting her drift into much needed sleep.

#

Sunlight filtered past the edges of the long drape separating the rooms. Taryn pulled herself deeper into the sleeping furs. It was too late though. Her belly was already wide awake and savoring the delicious scent of baking bread that filled the air. She pulled herself out of the covers and immediately regretted it when the cold air surrounded her face. Sarai was no longer in the hut. Taryn bolted out of bed in a panic. She gave herself enough time to put on her stained clothes and tug on her boots, then sped past the empty main room and out the door.

A blast of icy air stole her breath. Taryn scanned the area. Their hut was in a circle of three, sharing a large hearth in the middle. It was from this that the smell of bread came, as two young Altaran tended the fire, cooking bread rolls. Taryn smiled to the Altaran youth, and then moved past the hearth and beyond their circle of huts. She still could not see Sarai. She looked around to ask for help, but then remembered Ab'ehan's comment that few spoke verbally.

Sarai?

Here, by the main hearth.

Sarai's mental touch soothed Taryn's frayed nerves, but she felt something else in the link that made her worry. Taryn trotted along the main path, past circles of families sharing breakfast in the cold morning air. She found Sarai standing by the village main hearth. An Altaran man stood in front of her, his hand resting on the neck of a sweating full-size chestnut mare. Sarai turned to Taryn as she approached, tears streaking down her cheeks. Taryn's gut wrenched as she pushed herself between Sarai and the strange man.

"What is it? Did he hurt you?" Taryn felt for her sword, but it was not there. She stood in the frigid morning air in nothing but her tunic and breeches, her fingers grasping the cold air.

Sarai put a restraining hand on Taryn's arm. "No," she said, "He is no danger to us." Sarai looked back at the Altaran. "He says he is my father."

A mix of emotions flooded through Taryn, some her own and some from Sarai.

The Altaran man turned to her, bowing low. "Bondmate, I greet you. And I thank you for returning my heart-daughter to me."

Taryn stared at him. He had the same oval face and amber eyes that Sarai had. His eyes held back tears as he turned to Sarai again. Taryn recognized the silent communication between Sarai and her father. Frowning, she grasped Sarai's hand, urging a link between them to hear what they said.

I searched for you, my child. I hunted the lands of the Berati for years after they raided our hearth.

They killed her. They burned her because of me.

No, heart-daughter. Because of me.

His hands rested on Sarai's shoulders now, as tears fell freely. I should have taken you both north, away from that land.

Sarai bowed her head as her shoulders shook. Taryn dropped the link, embarrassed for having eavesdropped on what should be a private time between Sarai and her father. The Altaran man pulled Sarai in, holding her, rocking her as they both cried. Taryn backed away. This was not for her to share. Her shoulders slumped as she walked back to their hut, alone.

Sarai joined Taryn in their hut an hour later. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Much better," said Taryn from under the pile of bed furs. "Would you like to join me? It's very cozy."

Blushing, Sarai slipped off her boots and crawled under the furs. She lay her head on Taryn's chest. "I thought I would lose you."

Taryn wrapped her arms around her lover. "But you didn't. We're safe now." She lifted Sarai's head and pressed her lips to Sarai's. The softest of lips parted and Sarai's tongue teased Taryn's lips. Taryn rolled to her side, wrapping her legs around Sarai as their kiss grew more passionate. Fur covers were pushed aside as the two women expressed their love. Sarai's shy explorations teased and aroused Taryn, but Taryn would not push her lover. The weak winter sun cast rays of golden light across their bed as Sarai's small fingers slid under the cotton shift that Taryn wore. A low moan escaped Taryn's lips when Sarai's warm hand cupped her bare breast. With their minds linked, Taryn felt her own passions rising in harmony with Sarai's. Their bodies and minds drew together as they shed their remaining garments.

#

At the evening meal, Taryn watched with interest as Sar'elis scooped up the baby boy from the rugs and rocked him on her lap. Ab'ehan's hut was considerably larger than the one she shared with Sarai. But then again, his family was sizable as well, with his bondmate, Sar'elis, twin girls running around outside, and the young baby.

They sat around a warm fire in the center of Ab'ehan's hut. Sarai sat beside her, and Taryn kept a protective arm around her love.

"My father wants us to travel to his Hearth. It will be a full day's ride inland from here."

Taryn looked at her. "A full day? Then how did he find out you were here and get here so quickly?"

Ab'ehan interrupted. "How long does it take for a thought to go from one mind to the next? One village to the next?"

Zeb'hai, Sarai's father answered. "I received the image of you coming into the Hearth of Ehan within an hour of your arrival. I rode through day and night to get here." He turned to Sarai. "Please, heart-daughter, come home with me. Our family awaits us."

Sarai didn't answer right away. Taryn wondered why she hesitated, and then a thought occurred to her. "Do you, have you re-married since," she paused, "since then?" she asked weakly.

Zeb'hai sat back, shocked. The hut was silent a moment, then Ser'elis broke the silence. "Altaran have only one bondmate, Tar'n. We are drawn to our mate, wherever they may live. The power which joins two souls can never be unlocked and can never be replaced by another."

Taryn's cheeks burned from embarrassment. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend." Bonding for life? Was that why she and Sarai were drawn together when Sarai met Alek?

Zeb'hai remained silent, aloof.

Sar'elis clucked softly at the baby, and then looked to Zeb'hai. "It is nothing," she chided. "Their ways are not our ways. Still, she is bondmate, none can deny it."

Taryn felt Sarai pull closer to her, entwining her arm within Taryn's. Sarai turned to her father, her face proud, as if daring him to deny the obvious.

Zeb'hai relaxed some. "I too mated with the clans below, child. You will not face their harsh judgments here amongst us."

Taryn heard his words, but she felt a faint discomfort at his blank expression. And what of her own family and province? She had a duty to Damek, though what she could do against the combined forces of her foster-brother and Fasal?

What are your thought? asked Sarai.

She gazed into golden eyes. I will go with you, wherever the winds take us, but you must promise me we will return to Damek.

We will find your family.

Taryn lifted Sarai's hand, kissed it, and slipped it between her own hands.

We will go with you, to Clan Hai, Father. Sarai smiled up at Taryn. And I acknowledge you as my bondmate. My love and my heart you will have always.

Tears threatened to spill from Taryn's eyes. My love and my heart for you, forever my love.

Epilogue

Vasali lay on the floor; cool, damp stone pressed against her hot cheek. Her nostrils filled with the scent of sulfur and something else.

Yes, that was it. She remembered now. She'd soiled herself.

She felt his presence again. His hot breath seemed to sear down on her fevered brow, though he was not in her room. "No," she pleaded, her voice worn, raspy. "No, I have not failed you."

The half-breed bitch. She was beyond Vasali's reach now. But if she ever came back, Vasali would be ready. Her lips curled back, revealing small fanged teeth. She would tear the flesh off that darkling's hide herself next time.

She felt the burning in her limbs again. "No, please, Master!" She whimpered.

His power burned through her, like flame igniting the blood in her veins.

She screamed. She screamed until her voice gave out.