Tyrellan had brought her to these beautiful chambers, even evicting a noble to do so. She had not protested at that, for she was tired of her old shyness and had dismissed errant feelings of being undeserving. She was the Shadowdreamer’s woman – and these would be his quarters too when he arrived.
It was no surprise to discover that Tyrellan knew about Duskwood. A column of black smoke reaching into the sky was no common sight in Fenvarrow and had not gone unreported. She hadn’t hidden from anyone that she was the cause of it, or made excuses for an act she saw as serving the Dark Gods. She had told Tyrellan as much when he’d questioned her about it, and there’d been something in this exchange that made her think he did not find her so unworthy after all.
Since then she had come and gone as she wished, flying out over the troops, laughing as she disturbed groups of Graka training in formation. Grimra was with her always, her secret guard. Not too secret, really, for word spread fast that if anyone saw a Mire Pixie with cobalt eyes floating about, chances were a Golgoleth Ghost was not far away.
Still, for all her newfound freedom, there was also an undercurrent of concern – over where Losara had gone and the answers he searched for. She knew more about his motivations than anyone, and they worried her greatly. This idea of his, of letting Bel keep the Stone …surely he must see that it would place him in danger?
Tonight she sat by her window, eating dinner at a small silver table, while behind her the large sweep of her quarters lay dimly illuminated by a grand iceplace. Occasionally she threw a bit of delicately spiced meat in the air, and there was a flash of white as Grimra snapped it up.
‘Me doubts flutterbug be seein’ Losara coming,’ the ghost said. ‘Losara not be flying in like us gaddin’ about Fenvarrow, seeing this and that and the other.’
‘I know,’ said Lalenda. ‘It’s a romantic gesture though, is it not? Waiting by the window for a lover to return?’
‘Grimra not be understandin’.’
‘It makes me feel better,’ she said.
‘Ah,’ said Grimra. ‘Well, sit then.’ Teeth flashed. ‘Those little puffy pastries be good, yes?’
‘Yes,’ she said, smiling, and tossed one in the air.
‘Look at you both,’ said Losara warmly. ‘Like old friends.’
Lalenda jumped to her feet when she saw him standing before the bed. Without thinking she ran to him, her wings lifting her up at the last so that she slammed into his chest, sending them both sprawling onto the bed with him pinned beneath. He winced but then laughed, reaching up to run his four-fingered hand through her hair. Grimra circled, hooting in satisfaction.
‘Hello there, flutterbug,’ Losara said. ‘Careful of my shoulder, it’s quite tender.’
‘Why, what have you done?’
‘Stabbed myself,’ he grimaced.
‘ What? ’
‘Never mind for now. Just let me look at you, little wanderer. I did not realise you’d follow my army here.’
‘Where you go, I go,’ she said, and her eyes dared him to say otherwise. ‘From now on.’
‘Is that so?’
‘It is.’
‘I would have come to you tonight in Skygrip, had you been there.’
‘And you would have returned here in the morning.’
‘Perhaps. I hear that you have done quite a thing, and turned Duskwood to embers.’
‘There were many undead there,’ she said. ‘I remembered my lord’s words about the Dark Gods wishing them returned to the Well.’
‘Where is my retiring flutterbug?’ Losara wondered aloud. ‘Who is this fierce creature wielding fire and destruction?’
‘Gone she be,’ moaned Grimra. ‘Replaced by some winged troublemaker who listens not to me!’
‘Is my lord upset with me?’ Lalenda asked demurely, though a quirk of a smile tweaked the corner of her mouth.
‘No, little hellion. I may have worried for you if I’d known what you attempted, but as it’s gone and done, there seems little point. All that’s left is to be proud of you.’
His words made her heart skip. ‘Grimra?’ she said. ‘Why don’t you swirl off and terrorise the kitchen servants? Maybe they’ll give you a chicken.’
‘Oho!’ hooted Grimra. ‘Maybe they will! And maybe while me be gone, you two sit and natter about the weather?’
‘By Assedrynn, I do not care a jot about the weather,’ she said, and Grimra chuckled as he slipped under the door.
Morning came, and Losara awoke to bittersweetness amidst tangled sheets. Thin trails of broken skin along his chest marked where she’d run her claws the night before. It was good to be with Lalenda, in this moment, and he appreciated it for what it was – for he did not look forward to the task ahead.
Perhaps his other would have, for it involved the spilling of much blood.
She rose with him and began to pack herself a small satchel.
‘Truth be told, my love,’ he said to her, ‘I would prefer if you did not accompany me on this venture.’
‘Life does not always deliver what we want,’ she said sagely, as if quoting from one of her books.
He let it go. As he had told her of his journey the night before, she had listened with avid interest, especially to how Jaya accompanied Bel. He had realised too late that he was only strengthening her own determination to do the same with him. And with her concern over his failure to capture the Stone and all that it potentially meant, he did not think he could easily dissuade her.
There would not be much risk to her, he supposed. She could be kept well back from any conflict, he’d make sure of that. And he would not be like Bel, forgetful of those within his protection. Besides, after what he’d learned about Duskwood, he did not like his chances of caging his increasingly bold little pixie.
Tyrellan met them for breakfast, after which they walked from the fort together in plain view of the army. Soldiers stirred to attention and bowed, and Losara smiled and waved, stopping to thank them for their support. Lalenda bounced along beside him with her wings spread, taking steps that lifted her from the ground, as if she could not wait to take to the air. He could sense word spreading that the blue-haired man had finally arrived, and today went to battle. Tension filled the air – maybe it was excitement, maybe it was hope.
They came to the place where the mages camped and Roma waited. A thousand stood ready, most of them Arabodedas and Vortharg – the gift was rarer amongst the other races, but when present it was strong.
Losara rose to hover in the air and address them. Before he did, he noticed that each mage’s black cloak had been stitched at the shoulder with a blue thread, depicting the outline of a four-fingered hand.
The insignia , he sent to Roma. Your doing?
It is well they remember whom they serve , sent back Roma.
You flatter me.
No , sent Roma. They are right to be proud. As are you, my lord.
Losara found that he was touched. He thought about mentioning that he actually did still have a hand with the proper number of fingers on it, but decided he didn’t want to ruin the moment. Instead he spoke, his voice amplified by magic.
‘Greetings, my brethren. Today we make for Holdwith. If we add speed to our heels, we should reach it by nightfall and be favoured by darkness in our attack. I know that the Magus Supreme has spoken to you of what we must achieve, so I will say only this: if we are successful, it will be a great step towards ending this war in our favour.’
A cheer went up, and bolts of blue energy crackled into the air.
‘Now,’ said Losara, ‘make haste!’
As one, the mages sped away over the Stone Fields like a great black mist. Although their legs seemed to move at a normal pace, they covered the ground faster than any regular stride. Losara followed, floating above them, dividing his power between Tyrellan and Lalenda to help speed them along. Tyrellan’s eyes gleamed as he raced over the rocks, and if Losara didn’t know better he might have thought the First Slave was enjoying himself. A short distance behind the goblin, the shadowmander followed, bouncing and leaping, keeping up on its own, or perhaps simply dragged along because it had to stay close to its anchor to the world. Flying at his side, Lalenda grinned at Losara as she spread her wings wide, her wild hair whipping about her head, then plunged to sweep over the speeding horde.