Phfas snorted. “Wake up, Svarskya. This is not a dream. It is a nightmare.”
Pain’s talons sank into the back of Adrogans’ skull, but he shrugged the agony away. “It is indeed a nightmare, but one we shall find a way to push on through.”
Mikhail smiled. “I have every confidence in you, General. I could only wish Alexia was here to help.”
“I would welcome it.” Adrogans glanced at Phfas as the shaman muttered under his breath. “Alas, even your cousin’s vaunted talents might be stymied here. More blood than water will flow in the taking of the Three Brothers. Unless I can change that, the cost will keep Svarskya out of our grasp forever.”
40
For Alexia, the time spent in Bokagul had many dreamlike qualities, all of which conspired to push the horror of winter and the war into the background. Though she still felt the urgency to get to Caledo, the trip through the urZrethi halls and corridors—she could not bring herself to consider such places tunnels—went faster than expected.
The halls took her breath away. Having grown up in Gyrvirgul, she was used to living within mountains. After all, the urZrethi had created Gyrvirgul for the Gyrkyme, willingly courting the anger of elves by providing the winged ones with a home. There the urZrethi had created vast open galleries that were perfect for the Gyrkyme.
But had she been asked to predict the nature of urZrethi architecture, she would not have thought of the tall galleries as being something they would normally create. But it seemed the urZrethi built everything on a grand scale, with walls rising into gloom. Floor after floor of galleries and balconies, all decorated with ornate sculptures, soared into the shadows. The stone looked less carved than cultivated—trained the way gardeners worked topiary.
The whimsy in some of the decorations surprised Alyx. Her mental image of the urZrethi had rendered them dour and doughty, stout-hearted and humorless. But granted most of the tales she knew involved warriors who had emerged from the mountain strongholds for battle, and that might have provided a skewed view. She welcomed the chance to have her knowledge of them broadened.
Each night over the five days of their journey, the company was welcomed into a cork. Perrine always took the premier position by dint of the fact that she had what all urZrethi wanted: the ability to fly. Watching how the urZrethi reacted to Peri suggested that even if elves had offered to go to war over the Gyrkyme, the urZrethi still would have created Gyrvirgul.
Alexia shared a chamber with Crow at night and the others seemed to be happy for them—though Peri teased her as only a sister might. Alyx looked forward to the time she got to lie with Crow, whispering conspiratorially with him so as not to disturb any of the others. She loved tracing her fingers through his white hair, or down through the thatch on his chest and along the trio of scars that marked the right side of his body.
Occasionally she would forget the scars were there. One time, upon encountering them, her hand recoiled, but Crow’s hand covered it. “It’s all right, Alexia. They don’t hurt.”
“It’s not that.”
He snorted lightly and she could sense a smile forming on his lips. “You fear the memory would be painful, or could have been, but I was simply doing what had to be done to save my friends. When I did not break and when she could not trick me, Chytrine decided to kill me. The fact that I’ve lived long enough for these scars still to be there is a victory. There are few enough of those in the world.”
Her fingers came up and raked through his beard. “We will have more, you know.”
Crow’s right hand came up. His index finger played along her jaw, then tipped her face up. “The same day Chytrine got the Svarskya fragment of the DragonCrown, she let you slip away. I think she will find that a very grave error.”
He kissed her then and they made love. Softly, slowly, and quietly they joined, despite the urgency they felt. Desire flashed through Alyx. She wanted to touch and taste and caress. She wanted to feel him move under her and over her. She wanted to hold him very close and to be held closer, then have their worlds melt and fuse in passion until their unity was all that existed.
And, for a time, it was. In the time after that, sleep came, deepened by the feeling of safety in his arms. That struck her as odd, though, because she had never felt unsafe or insecure. She had just always felt that she needed to be on her guard, but with Crow that was utterly unnecessary.
That next day, the third in their trek, Alexia did manage to slip away and join the Communion of Dragons, while sitting back after a meal, listening to urZrethi singers present a melodic series of ballads she could not understand. Maroth met her at the slip and took her to the island, where she found the Black Dragon and two other individuals. One was female and appeared to be completely fashioned of ice. Alyx wondered if, for a moment, Chytrine had managed to project herself into the Communion, but she felt no malevolence coming from the woman.
The other figure was a man—or so she assumed since all she saw was the clothing he wore. From boots and velvet trousers to a heavy jacket and on up to a black velvet cap, it all seemed rather fashionable. At least she had seen some people in Meredo so attired. Of his flesh there was not a sign.
The Black Dragon greeted her warmly. “It is very good to see you. I had heard reports that you had gone north from Meredo, but nothing since.”
Alyx regarded him curiously. “You are tracking me?”
“I will admit an interest in you, since I nominated you to join us, but I have not been hunting or spying. I assume you are traveling to Muroso? You left Meredo in the company of a princess.” The Black’s jaw dropped open in an approximation of a smile. “Prince Linchmere is missing from the capital, and many believe he’ll be found dead with the spring thaw.”
Alyx could not keep from smiling. “They will have to look well outside Meredo to find Linchmere. Just so you know, I am heading north. Right now we are moving through Bokagul. We are probably a week away from Caledo.”
The Unseen Man sipped a cup of wine. “A week and it shall yet be there. Two perhaps.”
The woman hissed. “Caledo will take far longer to fall, if it does at all.”
“I hope, for your sake, Ryme, that your people fare far better than mine. The Aurolani would be at the gates of Caledo already save that the consolidation of Sebcia is taking longer than expected. The blizzards are in their favor, but they are slowing down troops and supplies. Sebcians have been laying their own nation to waste as they retreat.”
Alyx nodded. “Your source is reliable?”
A hearty laugh issued from the invisible throat. “My dear child, I am my source. I fled Lurrü when it fell, and am now fighting on the peninsula. If no ships can be found, I’ll die there, too.”
The Black shook his head. “You’ll not die. You’re far too resourceful.”
“My frostbitten toes—the few I have left—thank you, my friend.” The clothes bowed toward the Black. “Chytrine’s army is vast. Gibberers clearly breed faster than imagined. I have heard tales of other creatures in her armies, but have seen none myself. Sullanciri have been sighted, but again I have seen none. The push is on to Muroso, though.”
The woman nodded. “Sebcian refugees have told terrible tales.” She looked at Alyx. “My sister is safe with you, is she not?”
The princess frowned. “You know who I am?”
“No, but I would not be here were I not able to deduce that the Murosan Princess traveling north from Meredo is my sister. Her mission to bring the Norrington to Caledo was not sanctioned by our father. He will be pleased to accept help, but her departure angered him.”