THE MORNING SUN shone brightly on the small ship, the vessel sailing along smoothly. Industrious sailors worked hard as usual, pulling ropes, tying sails and booms off under the direction of the first mate. They held contests to see who could climb the ropes the fastest, or who the best knife thrower was. Occasional bawdy songs would come up, bringing a burst of raucous laughter from the men as they went about their duties.

The captain stood next to the helmsman, smiling as he watched his crew. “I’d’a never thought a demon could be anything but evil bastards,” the helmsman commented idly as he made slight corrections to their course. “Amazing how he takes care of that poor woman.”

The captain shook his head with a tolerant smile, holding up a single finger. “I told you the Trade Winds would be safe. The gromek’s no demon,” he corrected his helmsman. “His kind are just unfortunate enough to look like them. Remember that. Gromeks don’t attack what doesn’t threaten them. No honor in battle if there is no challenge made to them.”

“Of course, Cap’n,” the helmsman replied somewhat doubtfully, but Doom’s actions had thus far borne out the captain’s beliefs. After a moment, he asked, “What about the woman? Men say she’s pretty bad off. Might die. Death’s a bad omen.”

The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Might. But she’s alive now. I could not leave her behind knowing she was still holding onto life, no matter how barely.” His lips twisted into a quirky smile. “And I doubt her friend would have let us either. He could have abandoned her long before reaching us. Trying to argue the point would only have garnered the attention of patrols.” The helmsman grunted in agreement with his captain’s observation.

BELOW DECK, IN a secondary storage hold, a very pale cabin boy shut the door quietly. He looked back with some pity and a lot of fear. He scampered off with the empty water bucket when the ship’s cook’s rough voice bellowed up from the galley.

Inside the room, Doom finished replacing Tiwaz’s bandages then sat back, gazing out the small porthole at the bright morning sun. The Trade Winds was not much, as the captain had said. Unable to give them a proper cabin, the captain bunked the pair in a secondary store room, giving them a modicum of privacy if not comfort. It was only the second time either had any true privacy in their lives, though only Doom was aware of either time to appreciate it.

Sunlight poured into the small room, the dust in the air glittering with flecks of gold. The dusty stacks of sail canvas and coils of ropes looked beautiful to the newly freed slave. With a sigh, he glanced at the form lying next to him, worry filling his yellow eyes.

Tiwaz lay unmoving. The ebony-haired woman was deathly pale beneath the dark tan she had acquired fighting in next to nothing under the bright sun day after day. For a short time, Doom entertained hope that his friend might yet live. However, despite how long she survived since Alimar’s brutal beating, he began to doubt she would recover.

The rocking of the ship soothed Doom and he found himself relaxing, despite his fears and worries, resting a hand gently on the woman’s shoulder. His eyelids drooped as the rhythmic motion began to lull him to sleep. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes to sleep.

“NO!”

Tiwaz’s shout startled Doom awake. He looked sharply at her. Almost falling over in his haste, he knelt beside her, hopeful. “Ti? Tiwaz, can you hear me?” he called several times before the woman’s unreasoning panic eased enough for her to be aware of him.

Intense green eyes were wide open, but unseeing. “Doom?” she whispered in a harsh voice. She reached out blindly, and relaxed when he took her hand up in his huge, strong one. “Are you all right?” she asked, worry in her ragged voice, coughing weakly.

Doom blinked. “Am I all right?!” He laughed in relief and exasperation. “Gods, Ti, you had me worried. Everyone was certain he had killed you.” His yellow eyes studied her intently.

He shifted the sacks she was laying on to elevate her partway when she struggled to sit up. Her eyes closed for a moment as he made her more comfortable. “I know,” she said wearily. He held a battered metal cup with water, her hands so bruised she could not manage holding even that much. As her eyes focused, there was a glint of cold steel in them. “Where are we?” she asked, eyeing the place distrustfully, her eyes vividly green in the sunlight. “I do not know this place.”

“On a ship called the Trade Winds heading for the main continent of the Western Empire, then to the Southern Wildlands. The captain said he will let us off on the coast there, then we can go home.”

She looked up at him sharply. “We can’t go back home,” she said with just a hint of fear.

“Of course we can.” Startled, he could not help but worry, never having heard fear in her voice since shortly after they had met years and years ago. “We’re free.”

“And how long will that last?” she asked, her voice thick with bitterness. “Master will be expecting us to go back there.”

“He thinks we’re dead,” he told her pointedly. “We’re safe, Ti.”

“It doesn’t matter what Master believes now. It’s what he believes in the future.” She was hysterical, at least what passed for hysteria for the warrior. “He will find out if we go back to our homelands. He will find us and take us back and punish us. He will hurt you and I am not strong enough to stop him.” She tried to clasp his hand in both of hers, pleading in her eyes. “I’m not strong enough to protect you. We can’t go back!

Doom sat, dumbfounded. He could never remember a time when Tiwaz showed so much fear, or any emotions, openly. Even when they were alone together, she had been extremely reserved. “Okay! Okay. We won’t go to the south lands. Relax, Ti. Please.” She did so, reluctantly. “Not the Southern Wildlands, then. But we cannot stay in the Western Empire. Too many people would recognize you from the arenas. He would find out for sure.” He thought for a minute, studying her. “We’ll go north, instead. To the Northern Territories. Would that be all right?”

She relaxed minutely, even smiling ever so slightly in satisfaction. “Good. Yes. I must rest,” she announced as she lay back and was still again. Unnerved by how rapidly she had fallen asleep, he checked her, and breathed a sigh of relief that she was only sleeping. It shocked him that she fell asleep so completely so quickly.

“You’ve always been cool to the touch to me, Ti,” he murmured to her. He caressed her hair in a gesture that soothed him as much as he intended to soothe her, then wrapped his cloak around her. “But I can’t help but worry. You’re as cold as death.”

Doom sat again and pulled out the pouch he had been given, wondering about the mysterious people that helped him get Tiwaz off Griffin Isle. “I should have asked you about this while you were awake, Ti.” The worn leather bore an insignia similar to the image on the coin he had found in the forgotten temple: a dragon within a simple circle. However, instead of three circles around the head, there were four and the dragon’s eye was shut. The circles around the dragon’s head still bore faint colors: bluish white, green, red, and black.

Uncertainly, he opened the pouch, and dumped its contents into his huge hand. Among the coins of silver and copper was a golden one. This coin resembled the first dragon coin he’d found. Just as with the first, tiny gems haloed the dragon’s head. Except the dragon’s eye was inset with a blue diamond and the emerald was among the three others.

Along with the coin was a folded piece of parchment he carefully unfolded. He muttered under his breath how lucky humans were to have such small hands with blunt nails. Even so, he managed not to shred the paper with his claw-like nails, opening it to examine.

Doom blinked in surprise. It was a map, the words written in the only tongue Urbin had dared to teach him to read. He did not know how their benefactors knew what language Urbin had taught him, but it made him more hopeful that he and Tiwaz would now be able to stay free in a place far from the hated man. So long as she lived.