At last the road goes dark and worn,
But I see a gentle light that burns.
Though the path twines and turns,
My beloved calls me home once more.
~ A song of the earthbone travelers
IT WAS IMBRIL who found me sprawled face down on the sealed verge, the animdao blade still clutched in my fist, just as the sun was rising.
I’d lain there all night.
“Feinan?” he whispered. “Ah, no. Not you too…” When I rolled over, he jumped back with a choked squawk.
Numb and yet also vaguely annoyed, I stared up at him. “Not me what?”
“Oh, we thought you were dead!” He dropped to his knees beside me, helping me sit. “We saw the dragon circling…and the aura lighting up the night. And then you were gone. I was the only one…” He gazed around us. “What happened?”
“You’re standing on a demonic verge. Sealed, lucky for us.”
I was reluctantly impressed when he didn’t immediately run away, just shifted his knees to peer down. At some point that I hadn’t acknowledged, he’d gotten entirely rid of his haloric penitent gray, and he was dressed not much better than me. Rather than ask more questions, he just waited beside me.
I stared down too, as if I could see through the layers of obsidian and white glaze. Haltingly, I told him about Kalima and Claeve, about the levaimyth and the horde, about Aric…
Imbril didn’t interrupt or even exclaim, just sat quietly. After I recounted how Aric had plunged toward the monster, Imbril put his hand on my shoulder with a shuddering sigh.
“And so the Dragon Prince saved the Living Lands,” he murmured. “There will be songs, and scrolls added to the libraries. But what a price to pay.”
I let him lift me to my feet, though I swayed a little, exhausted and hurt.
Hurt all the way down.
He led me away from the sealed verge, through the wreckage of the towers, past the huddled remains of the High Keep fighters.
“I thought we were all going to die,” he said. “The horde was about to overrun the last of us, but then… That strange light appeared in the haloric tower—the levaimyth, you said—and all the demons flowed that way, leaving us behind.” He was still mostly holding me upright, and he gave my arm a squeeze. “You and the prince saved us.”
But I wanted more than victory.
Or maybe I wanted less. Just one thing. My treasure.
Imbril guided me around one grouping, but I glimpsed the king there, surrounded by his people, including Marshal Elaf and Petro no’Maru. The wan winter sun wove between clouds of smoke and dust, making hazy shadows out of nothing. None of the kingdom’s betters looked my way, which was as it should be.
“They are saying the king vanquished the horde, but…” Imbril shrugged. “He and Claeve were battling mightily, such a ferocious clanging of swords, and they bantered as they fought. A ballad, almost it was. Except…the demon master won.” When I made an inadvertent noise, Imbril shrugged again. “That’s what I saw. That curved sword smashed the king’s blade in two, and when Claeve leaned close, it seemed he would kill the king. But instead, he strode away. Maybe, as you say, he went to the verge, to claim the levaimyth.” The lor shook his head. “Mikhalthe seems…shaken. He isn’t telling what happened, just that we need to return to Velderrey, that the High Keep is cursed now.”
I couldn’t blame the king for that.
Finally we came to a quiet corner in the outer bailey. A surly chook boy had once given me direction here as I looked for a way out of the lightkeep.
“Fei!” Lisel rushed to me, taking my other arm and guiding me into the shelter of an overturned wagon. I remembered the Sevaare carriage on its side.
Several Chosen were huddled against the rough floorboards of the wagon. A fire burned in front of them, the flames small but dancing, warmth and light filling the protected place.
Judging by their faces and the way they held each other, it wasn’t enough.
Lady Dyania sat a little apart, her arms around herself as she stared into the fire. But she looked up quickly as Lisel appeared, her eyes widened. “Oh, by the light everlasting…”
I was tucked among them, a mug of something not yombark pushed into my slack hand by the kitchen maid whose name I couldn’t remember. I repeated my story to Imbril in low tones for the lady and Lisel, who just stared at me, astounded.
“Does that make you the Dragon Princess?” The kitchen maid turned soldier, who’d been apparently lurking nearby, refilled our mugs with tea that was mostly water. “If it obeyed you and saved the Living Lands?”
That…was not how it had happened though.
Neh, if I’d stayed a tavern wench, I would’ve heard the rousing ballad and not known any better.
Imbril shifted uneasily beside me. “Where is the dragon?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “When the sun came up, she was gone.”
Later that day, Lisel and I started preparations for returning to Velderrey, per the king’s command. I was limping on my battered ankle, and she had bruises where she’d blocked tumbling tiles from crushing the Chosen as they empowered the runes.
“Our lady shows no marks,” she told me quietly. “But there is something amiss with her and with the other Chosen. They are…” She shook her head, words failing.
“Stained,” I said. When Lisel started to protest, I held up one hand. Just my grimy, clever fingers, nothing that could summon aura—or burn in it. “After what they had to do, they will never be pure again.”
Maybe the loyal hartier would’ve argued more, but a peculiar honking bray distracted us.
Lisel turned with a dawning smile. “Nars!”
It was a good moment.
We had a wagon—once it was put back on its wheels—and a way to pull it and a place to go and friends to go with. There’d been a time when that was all I would’ve wished for. We’d be leaving on the morrow.
That night, as the kitchen maid—whose name was Flor—helped Lisel pack the wagon, and Imbril spoke softly with the dwindled Chosen, I walked to the edge of our little camp and stared into the dark.
There were no demons out there now. We’d defeated them. Huzzah.
I stepped among the shadows.
Somewhere along the way, I’d lost my boots. How strange. Maybe when I’d fallen through the night? I kept my gaze down as I went, avoiding stubbing my toes, but no darning would save these socks, no matter how strong the thread or how fine my stitches.
My wandering steps brought me to the verge.
The dragon waited there.
Catching the starlight, her shattered glass eye reflected a black rainbow of hues though she didn’t move, her wings splayed on the obsidian earthbone. She did not look at me.
“So he is gone?”
I glanced over at Daoja, standing beside the monster. “He sacrificed himself to seal the verge.”
She nodded. “I saw the auras from my vale. So bright, they called me here.” She glanced over her shoulder, down to the flickering campfires in the bailey, frail little lights to hold back the night. “You’re going with the others, away from here?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, of course, what else? It wasn’t running away if I had nowhere else to go.
“No,” I said. “I’m going after him. To find Aric. In the Lost Lands.”
+ + +
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