He turned to his sister. She and Lonal finished a whispered conversation.
"Time to go," Alemar said.
Elenya nodded.
"We located your oeikani," Lonal said. "I will see that they are brought." He left to issue the command.
From deep within the mountain came the rumbles of falling rock. The Zyraii stirred uneasily. Gast shot a quizzical look at Alemar.
"Its job is done," he answered. "Not everything is going to hold together anymore." He stroked the gauntlet. "But what a work it was."
Alemar sighed as Gast tended his injuries. The healer and the twins were a few miles from Setan. Dawn teased the hills. Nearby the narrow tributary of the Ahloorm gurgled over cobbles, its lullaby taking Alemar to other lands, where one never worried about getting enough to drink. Home. That would be their first goal. If the Dragon Sea were impassable, they couldn't deliver the gauntlets to Elandris. Keron would eventually look for them in Cilendrodel. Together they might pursue the lead concerning the temple of Struth.
"What will you do now, master?" Alemar asked, though his attention was on Elenya. She sat at the stream's edge, glancing frequently back the way they had come.
"Do not call me master," Gast said. "Your training is complete. You have been through the rooms of Setan. You are Hab-no-ken now."
Alemar assumed he would be glad when either his quest or his study of healing was fulfilled. Now both had culminated in one night, and he wasn't relieved. "I pray that I do the art justice."
"I rather think you will have more opportunity to practice than most of us. As for me, I have the implied protection of the High Scholar. I will make myself inobtrusive for a season or two, then return to my old haunts. Fear not for me."
They detected the clop of hooves. Elenya sprang to her feet. A single rider appeared around the last bend.
"I was wondering when he'd show up," Alemar said.
Lonal reined up nearby, but remained on his oeikani. They all looked at one another and hesitated, as if reluctant to disturb the dawn quiet.
"I came to say I'm sorry," Lonal said finally.
"For what?" Alemar asked.
"I put many obstacles in the way of your quest. If what Esidio says is true, your mission may mean more to Zyraii than my whole life's work."
"You couldn't have known that. Even we can't be sure it's true."
"Nevertheless it is humbling. I wish that I had been able to give you something as worthy."
Alemar lifted the material of his green robes. Elenya, just as emphatically, held out her scarred wrist. Lonal raised his eyebrows, then laughed merrily. "You are kind. But then, Esidio did tell me that there were reasons why it was necessary for you to become a healer. I suppose we were all following God's plan."
"Or someone's," Alemar said.
Lonal looked at Elenya, and his eyes rested there for a long time. "You are taking my best war-second," he said mournfully, still speaking to Alemar. "Where will I ever find another like her?"
"You'll find many more," Elenya replied with conviction. "Xurosh has seen to that."
"I think you're wrong," he said in a husky voice. "It would take another miracle." He turned to Alemar. "Tell me, are all the women in Cilendrodel like her?"
"None."
"You see? Your brother understands." He urged his mount forward with a subtle pressure of his knees. He and Elenya touched wrists together, joining the scars of thehai-Zyraii. They parted slowly. Lonal headed back to Setan.
"I will not forget you," she called after him. He didn't answer.
"Last night Esidio told him he would becomeopsha," Gast said of the departing figure.
"I don't have any doubt," Elenya said. "I envy him, you know," she told Alemar.
"Why?"
"Because Lonal wants his destiny."
She looked at her gauntlet, which she wore on the left hand. She picked up a small cobblestone and squeezed. It broke. "I have a Fear," she said. "I think you will understand what I mean. I am afraid of a life where I am nothing but a warrior, fighting for causes not my own. Sooner or later I'd be left standing in the midst of open desert, and all the people I've known – friends, lovers, and even you, brother – would turn and run from the killer I've become, leaving me alone, with only myself to fight."
Alemar came forward and held her.
"If you hadn't defeated our ancestor's spell when you did," she said gravely, "I might have died of loneliness."
"I understand." Only after he had said it was he aware that he had bespoken her. The amulets took so little concentration now.
"I don't know what's ahead,"she replied in kind,"but at least we'll be out of this mad country." She pulled off the gauntlet and regarded it. "Let's see if we can put these to good use, after all."
Alemar nodded. They climbed into their saddles and began riding. The lands of the Dragon Sea were calling.
The Southern Lands
The Central Lands
Link to Full-Size Map
Prologue
KERON COULD SMELLthe battle coming. Clouds brooded, promising a long, heavy torrent. Below him, the troops of both defending and invading armies stirred like angry ants, with only the width of the river to separate them.It will be now, Keron thought. The rains would bring floods, and winter would keep the channel swollen. If the Dragon was going to establish his foothold, it would happen before the storm broke, while his forces could still cross the ford.
"Hail, King of Elandris!" the herald announced as Keron stepped out of his pavilion. Two pikemen automatically fell into place at their sovereign's heels.
"Where is the crown prince?" Keron asked.
"At the observation post," the herald replied.
Keron strode off at a pace that his men had a hard time matching. In his mid-fifties, the king was lean and strong, with not a strand of grey in his hair.Wizard's blood, his subjects would whisper.The years flow slowly for the sons of Alemar. Yet now there were sharp lines in his face that had been faint traces less than four years earlier, when the Dragon's offensive had begun.
He passed beside the smithies, assailed by the sounds of hot metal being quenched, of hammers, of voices murmuring spells that would bind carbon to iron. On the other side of the path, fletchers were feverishly attaching both new and salvaged points to arrows and complaining about the inferior quality of the feathers they had to work with, their pace still vigorous in spite of days and nights of constant work.
Keron flagged the armorer, a hirsute, barrelchested Tamisanese with arms and face scarred by a lifetime of smelting and shaping metal.
"Let the forges cool. You'll need to be ready to move the equipment if the Dragon's army overruns us."
The armorer fixed an antagonistic gaze on the king, as if to deny the prospect that Tamisan might be overrun. "Aye…Your Majesty," he said finally. The pause before the honorific was intentional.
One of his pikemen stiffened, but Keron held up a calming hand. It was not the time to argue over etiquette. The king continued on, past racks of freshly made swords and shields. He recognized a man at a grindstone as one of his own Elandri craftsmen, and nodded. The man lifted the sword he was sharpening in a brief salute, then set it down again into a shower of sparks. Elsewhere among the workers, among the native Tamisanese, Keron was met with glares and narrowed eyes. He could sense their thoughts:You're the one who brought this doom upon us. The Dragon came to this land on your heels. Like the armorer, they were not happy about his presence.
Allies bickering among themselves. Small wonder Gloroc's invasions had been so successful.