Memory.

It was a funny thing, Cassanya thought, how the oddest things came back to you at strange times. But then, her head hurt, and her body didn’t feel very cooperative, so perhaps it was easiest this way. Just remember, and see if that would explain anything.

“Tee...”

The apprentice slumped sideways onto the icy carpet, the front of her coat white with frost, her face as pale and lifeless as the winter moon.

“No,” the leonin tried to move forwards and found that she could, released from the unseen grip that had held her. Without thinking, without paying attention to the black figure that stood nearby, she scooped the slim apprentice into her arms. Tallow’s face was colourless, her lips bluish, but her heart still beat and her breath still clouded the air in front of her face. It was only now that Cassanya realised she had light, looking up to discover that the blackness had lifted from the window. The light that entered was feeble, but compared to the deep darkness from before it was as clear as midday.

The dark figure stood before it, but somehow... it wasn’t threatening anymore. The dread chill it had emanated had vanished, its eyes no longer shone from the depths of its hood.

“Does she live?” it asked.

“Yes,” Cassanya nodded, holding her friend tightly, chill forehead against furry cheek.

“I am glad.” The voice was a soft, dry whisper, like the wind through a wicker screen. A tattered hand rose, pushing back the black hood, and Cassanya gasped.

The man was old. Terribly old. His wispy grey face was wrinkled and gnarled and quite translucent, doing little to block the light behind him. A white halo of hair surrounded his head, waving gently in a wind that no one alive would ever feel. As he stood, he leaned on a cane that was every bit as insubstantial as he was.

“I am sorry to have frightened you so,” the ancient wizard said softly. “Your friend is very brave. Many would have fled.”

“She needed that book,” Cassanya nodded to the shelf, uncertain how to react to a conversation with someone who didn’t seem to be quite there, and decided to say nothing about it. “She’d have done anything for it.”

“So I have gathered,” the old man whispered. “Take it, if you will. I understand now. Despite my time here, the war has begun again. It seems that once more I have failed.”

“Failed?” leonin eyebrows drew together, but Cassanya stood nonetheless, swiftly retrieving the book from its place on the shelf before returning to her friend’s side, wrapping the still motionless young woman tightly in her thick cloak.

The translucent face gave a sad smile. “When the dragons came to destroy Taer Endryr, I, alongside my brothers in the Order, stood against them. Needless to say,” he sighed softly. “It was a battle we did not win. To my shame, I did not have the courage to see it through. Ah, but what a fool I was... my last breath of magic, my last words of life might have been enough. A last spell, a final shield, perhaps might have saved the day, but yet...” Wispy grey eyelids closed for a moment as a look of deep sorrow crossed the old man’s face.

“I was too afraid to let go. As I lay wounded and dying, my mind turned not to a shield spell for the others, not to a final counter attack, but to self preservation.”

“You succeeded,” Cassanya whispered.

“To a degree,” the old man said sadly. “I am, you might say, but a shadow of my former self, a mere reflection of who I was. A ghost?” he raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps. My former body, such as it was, is certainly long gone. Consumed by the dragon fire,” he nodded through the dim window.

“And now, for my cowardice, for my failure to perform my duty, I am bound here. It was years before I knew the war had ended, as I saw those remnants of the magi come to reclaim what was lost here. I drove them away. I had seen the terrors that the knowledge of this library had brought, and I could not allow it to be used again. Thus I have remained, watching, and waiting, and occasionally sending away such as yourselves.”

“Except that this time...” Cassanya started.

“That which I feared, has already happened,” the old man bowed his head. “At least, your friend is entirely certain of that. If she is lying, she is lying also to herself, and I do not think she is the self deluding type.”

Silently, Cassanya shook her head, holding Tallow’s limp form tightly. “She will be all right?” she asked.

“I would think so,” the old man looked out of the window, for a moment reminding the leonin forcibly of the apprentice’s tendency to vagary. “I have never killed anyone in my life, nor in what passes for it these days,” he said, looking back at her. “And I have no intention of starting today, however you may wish to leave swiftly, if you wish that book to be of use to anyone. You may have gathered that you are not alone. You companions certainly have,” he nodded towards the gloom beyond the window.

“What?” Cassanya nearly stood up, but checked herself before she dropped Tallow on the floor. “Where? What’s happening.”

“Your friends seem to have encountered the others.”

Lifting her friend in her arms the leonin strode to the window. From the vantage point, all she could see was a bright flare of light surrounded by moving shadows.

“Can you stop them?”

“No,” the old man shook his head with a whispery chuckle. “No more than I could stop your friend. The leader is… not gentle. I have no doubt the followers will pay with their lives, should they run, and I will not have their blood on my hands.”

“I can,” he went on as Cassanya glared at him. “Perhaps help you, however. After all, you have done me a greater service than you perhaps realise. I suggest you brace yourself, you may find this unnerving.”

That was when the world had seemed to split apart. Or perhaps, Cassanya thought, it had been her that split apart. In either case, the important thing was that it had hurt a lot, sufficiently that she now found herself lying on her side, curled into a small ball and shivering. And it really was time to be moving, she decided, the intrusive memory fading as it caught up to the now. Time to work out what had happened.

“My lord…”

“Katrina,” Tiernach’s image smiled thinly from the middle of the crystal. “I assume you are about to return with my new staff fragment?”

“Not exactly, my Lord,” Katrina winced internally but fought to keep it showing in her face.

“Not… exactly?” Tiernach’s glittering gaze focussed on her more intently.

“There was… a slight problem.”

“Explain,” the leonin’s eyes narrowed.

“Intruders. They were seeking the stone.”

“And?” Tiernach’s eyes flashed with impatience.

“And they found it first. Escaped before we could stop them. And…” Katrina licked dry lips, swallowing uncomfortably. “And the fragment we were using to track it was… lost.”

“Lost,” Tiernach repeated, his voice terribly calm. “Pray tell me, Katrina, how does a woman of your abilities, backed by two dozen loyal members of the Brotherhood, not only manage to lose an artefact which I have explicitly stated is more valuable than the lives of every single person under her command, but manage to lose the target of her mission as well?” A muscle under Tiernach’s eye twitched a few times, and the tendons in his neck were clearly visible.

“They had a weapon. Something I’ve never seen before,” Katrina said quickly. “A sword, but… more than a sword.” A hint of curiosity showed in Tiernach’s thunderous expression, and she continued hurriedly. “It glowed like lightning, and that wretched little half-race… I’ve never seen anyone move so fast! He took out my men in a few heartbeats, but… I would have beaten him, my Lord, I swear! He was on his knees, finished, I would have killed him there and then except… the darkness. The darkness saved him. When I could see, he had gone, as had the fragment you gave me.”

Tiernach’s image looked back at her from the depths of the crystal, the muscle under his eye twitching again, yet his gaze was directed elsewhere, his expression thoughtful.

“Describe the sword,” he stated, suddenly focussing on her again.

“The hilt was gold, the blade about thirty two inches long. I don’t know what it was made of, it shone too bright to see.”

Again Tiernach looked thoughtful for a few seconds, then, “Return immediately,” he stated, and the crystal faded.

Katrina took a slow, measured breath. Was it a good thing that something appeared to be concerning him more than the loss of the staff fragment, or bad? She opted for the former, on the assumption that anything which kept his focus off the loss was probably going to spare her a lot of discomfort. Time to fetch the dragon. Quietly, Katrina cursed the creature for being too docile. Had it been free to act it might have been able to help… although actually on second thought, it would probably have torn her apart rather than assist. Perhaps it was better to keep it out of conflict after all.

When Tallow finally stirred, it was only to settle herself a little more comfortably under the warm blanket, stretching her legs out a little straighter so that... blanket?

She opened her eyes quickly, trying to sit up and discovering that she already was.

“What...?”

“Safe,” Cassanya reassured her softly, and Tallow looked over her shoulder to find the leonin right behind her, arms around her middle. “You looked cold,” she said apologetically. “And I didn’t want to risk a fire. I’m not sure if anyone’s following us.”

“Thank you,” Tallow murmured. “Where are we?” she asked, looking around at the trees. The wind was blowing gently, setting the leaves into whispering motion as a bird sang from somewhere to their left. It was clearly not the same forest they had entered earlier.

“Not where we were,” Cassanya told her. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I... yes! He was an old man... just an old man. He seemed so sad…”

The leonin nodded. “I think he sent us out here... I don’t know how, I think I passed out, too. When I woke up...”

“A teleportation spell? Cass, that’s incredible! I don’t even know of anyone still studying it, not since... where are the others?” Tallow changed track mid sentence, leaning forward, kneeling to look around her, seeing nothing but the forest, looking back at her friend in confusion.

Cassanya’s lower lip quivered a little.

“Cass?”

“I don’t know, I couldn’t find anyone!” she said, and burst into tears.

Dragons. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, Feral couldn’t count them as they raced overhead. Scales of red and white, glittered in the sun. The hill to the east shone emerald, the lake sapphire. The four dragon clans. He didn’t know how he knew what they were, he just did.

And he knew why they were here.

Glittering in the sunlight, the Dragon Staff, its shining surface seeming to twist and writhe as the light ran around its edges.

Had it summoned them?

Feral didn’t know. All he knew was what he had to do.

The staff must be broken. If it wasn’t, then the war would continue, to the annihilation of both sides.

The Shining Blade was in his hand. He knew it could be done.

He gripped the hilt tightly, and pain exploded inside him.

Falling to his knees, clutching the hilt of the sword, the sunlight streaming down on him, metal biting into his palm.

Reality, and a realisation that it was the first real part of anything since being back in the darkness of the magefort. The pain was pretty real, too, Feral decided, gritting his teeth and trying not to cry out. It seemed like every bone in his body wanted to tell him it was broken.

It also seemed like they were all lying, he discovered with gratitude, agony settling to a dull ache.

Grass between his hands as he crouched on all fours, and sunlight on the back of his head. A hillside, warm in the sunshine, a gentle breeze stirring the grass into ripples that danced across the slope. He was nowhere near the magefort, it would seem, as he turned his head to look around him. Not even near a mountain, from the look of things.

“Wha...?” he stopped, realising that there was nobody to ask a question to. He was completely alone. Something glittered in the grass near his left hand. A second fragment of the Dragon Staff.

“Well,” he told it, picking it up and standing. “At least we got you away, then. But where have we got you away to?” Revolving slowly on the spot, he took in the green hills around him. “Where indeed...”

Towards evening, he still couldn’t answer his question. He hadn’t seen anyone, hadn’t passed a road sign (or even a road), hadn’t eaten since before entering the magefort, and was now sheltering in a dilapidated old hut, watching as the rain dripped through a hole in the roof at the far end. It looked as if the shepherd who normally used it hadn’t been by for a season or two.

Sniffing, he blinked a few times, and pulled his knees up to his chin, feeling very lonely and hungry.

“Stop it,” he muttered to himself. “You’ve been on your own before, it’s not like you don’t know how to handle it.”

Ah, but, a small voice reminded him from the back of his head. Then you didn’t have something that at least one kingdom would happily kill you to get at, did you?

He wiped his eyes on the back of his hand.

And you weren’t wondering where your friends were, were you?

Shook his head, trying not to think anymore, wishing his chest didn’t feel so tight.

Or if they’re still alive?

A tear escaped, slipping down his cheek.

Was it your fault? You did lead them into that fight, and you could have walked away. That leonin woman told you that you could walk away, but you didn’t... both times you’ve faced her, you should have run away, and both times...

“’Ello, Red.”

Feral looked up to discover a familiar face peering at him, upside down, from the top of the door frame.

“Blue!” he was on his feet in a heartbeat as the sciurel neatly dropped off the edge of the roof, landing with catlike agility and grinning as he stepped inside.

“I... thought...” Hands on his friend’s shoulders, Feral was dangerously close to hugging him as Balthor appeared around the side of the hut, having taken the more conventional route.

Blue held up the pointer charm. “It’d ‘ave been easier to find you if you’d stayed put instead of wanderin’. The way this thing jiggles about it weren’t...”

Feral did hug him.

“Um... yeah, glad to see you too, Red...” he said awkwardly, patting the half race very gingerly on the back. “All right, now?”

“Yeah, fine,” Feral nodded, blushing as he stood back, wiping his eyes hastily on the cuff of his sleeve. “Sorry, it’s dusty in here, gets in my eyes. You’re both ok?” he looked at Balthor.

The lupari nodded, shaking Feral’s hand and patting him on the shoulder by way of greeting.

“I hoped Cassy would be with you, though,” he said, looking concerned. “You haven’t seen...?”

Feral shook his head.

“Damn. No fire yet?” he nodded to the small stone fireplace at the corner of the hut, apparently wanting to change the subject.

Feral pointed at the hole in the roof, and the steady trickle of water that was washing down the slight incline and would douse any kindling set there.

“Hmm.” Looking thoughtful, Balthor disappeared outside. A wet thud, the water stopped, and the lupari reappeared, minus his cloak.

“It’s there to keep the rain off, mate,” he said as Feral looked at him. “Doesn’t matter how it does it.”

“Oh...” Feral felt rather foolish as Balthor dabbed the fireplace dry with a rag from his pack, then grabbed several logs from the pile in the dry corner.

It wasn’t long before the little hut was lit by the light of dancing flames, the fire casting their shadows back onto the wall, the smell of a hearty stew wafting out of the door.

“Red, mate?” Blue asked, pausing with his spoon half way to his mouth and regarding Feral thoughtfully.

“Hmm?”

“Where did you know that leonin woman from?”

Feral felt his hand start to shake and hurriedly set his plate down on the floor. Instead of replying, he stared into the fire, the flickering flames merging with his memories of running through burning streets, the feel of the heated wind as it blew embers into the sky, the rush of the dragon’s wings and it passed overhead, his sister, grabbed by the arm...

“Red? You ok?”

Looking up, Feral felt his lower lip tremble as the sciurel’s eyes met his. “She did it,” he whispered quietly, and Blue cocked his head. “That night, when the dragon came. She was riding it. She killed them...”

“Bloody ‘ell,” the sciurel breathed. “No wonder you were acting like you would’ve taken a piece out of her with your teeth...”

“I thought you’d kill her if I let go,” Balthor nodded in agreement.

“I should have. She deserves to die, for what she did,” Feral stated flatly.

“I don’t think you’ll do it alone, Red. You’ll need help.”

Feral didn’t say anything, looking at the ground between his feet. The leonin ought to die for what she did, he knew it. So many people hurt, his own family included... but to kill her? To end a life, something unique and irreplaceable, something which he had no power to restore… Who was to say that someone somewhere would not feel for the leonin how he had felt for his sister? Did she have an older brother, someone who would mourn for her death, someone whose world would be shattered by her passing?

“I’ll help, if you want me to, guv.”

“And me,” Balthor said, his voice a low rumble.

“We all will,” Blue nodded. “All you have to do is the say the word, we’ll go find her and do what’s necessary.”

Feeling a tear slide down his cheek, Feral shook his head, his eyes closing. “No,” his voice barely made a whisper, but he knew it had caught his friends’ attention. “No,” he said again, a little more firmly, and looking up at Blue. “I won’t become like her. I just want her to stop. I won’t kill her if I don’t have to. I’ll put her in prison, if I can, let her stand a fair trial. If the authorities decide she’s guilty of murder... her punishment is their call.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?” Blue asked.

Hesitating for only a moment, Feral nodded, biting his lip. “When we get her, she’ll stand trial for what she’s done. That’s all I want.”

Balthor smiled, and raised his cup of water in a toast. “Cassy would be glad to know you said that,” he told the half-race softly. “Not to mention I am – she’d kill me if I let you go off on a manhunt!”

“I hope she and Tee are all right,” Feral said suddenly, realising they’d all been putting off saying so.

“They’ll be fine, Red. Good smart girls, both of ‘em. Either they got out the same way we did, or they saw what was going on and stayed put until they could move out safely.”

“How did we get out?” Feral wondered.

Balthor and Blue just shook their heads.

“Not one of yours then?” Balthor looked at him.

“Not that I know… I was down and out by that point, and I’m pretty sure that’s not in Tee’s book of spells either.”

“Hmm,” the lupari looked pensive.

“So… what should we do now?”

“That’s easy, Red.” Producing a map from one of the numerous pouches around his waist, Blue unfolded it. “I think we landed about four miles south of you, passed a cross roads on the way over, with signs to here, and here,” he pointed to two small towns marked on the map. “Meaning we were here. You said the plan was to head for Farview, which is here. A few days walk, but not too bad, eh?”

Feral nodded mutely, wondering why he’d never thought to get hold of some maps to their destination.

“What about Cassy?” Balthor asked softly.

“And Tee,” Feral added.

“They can take care of themselves, and I don’t doubt they’ll do the same as we are. We’ll have you back together soon enough,” Blue said, winking at the lupari.

“I hope so,” Balthor said quietly, missing the wink entirely. “I promised…”

Feral looked at him, but the lupari didn’t finish, instead lapsing into an unusually thoughtful silence.

The room was clean, quiet, and spacious – as it should be, belonging to the most expensive inn in town. And it was very dark, as it should also be, the water clock in the town square showing the time to be the middle of night watch.

Troyston was aware of none of this however, because he was asleep.

A sharp knocking sounded against the closed door to his room.

Troyston remained asleep, unaware of it.

The knocking continued.

He was, Troyston decided firmly, still asleep and whatever fool was trying to wake him could come back in the morning. He rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head.

The knocking stopped.

Good. Yawning, he settled back down.

Was that a smell of smoke, he wondered. Yes, yes it was. The blanket was on fire.

“What the hell?” leaping out of bed, he bolted for the door, wrenching it open and nearly running right into the old man outside.

“Good evening, Troyston,” Fellirion smiled up at him, his features cast into sharp relief by a light that shone from the top of his battered old staff.

Troyston felt like he ought to be shouting something about fire, and alarm, but this sudden encounter seemed to have thrown him off track, and all he did was blink several times.

“Come come, you can’t go wandering the halls like that,” Fellirion said calmly, taking his elbow and leading him back into the room. “You’d give that young barmaid quite a turn if she saw you.”

“Wait, the…”

The blanket was not on fire. Nor was it even slightly singed. The smell of smoke had evaporated, leaving only the faint odour of polish emanating from the furniture.

Troyston eyed Fellirion suspiciously as the old man closed the door.

“You may want to put your dressing robe on,” Fellirion said quietly, smiling but politely looking away.

Flushing, Troyston did so, as Fellirion moved around the room, igniting several candles glowing tip of his staff. Satisfied, he put his hand over the end of the staff and it darkened immediately, leaving them with more familiar, flickering illumination

“Why are you here?” Troyston asked bluntly, recovering a little from the surprise of the encounter.

The old man looked about to reply, but there was another knock at the door. Fellirion opened it, and a maid entered, carrying a tray with plates and glasses.

“Ah, excellent, thank you,” Fellirion smiled at her as she set it down on the table before retreating. “You’ll have to forgive me, I really am rather hungry, would you care to join me?” he said, sitting down at the table and holding a knife and fork up in Troyston’s direction.

He wasn’t particularly hungry, but Troyston decided that it was better to follow the lead for now, and see what was going on.

“Oh, and you might like to read this,” Fellirion pushed a scroll of parchment across the table.

“Yesterday’s news scroll? How did you get hold of it so quickly? It takes eight days for a messenger from Keystone to get out here, and that’s riding non stop!”

“I don’t like to wait for messengers,” Fellirion smiled enigmatically.

“Continuing hostilities… troops stationed along the northline… backup to Freeman Spire? Surely they wouldn’t be so stupid as to kick off in Fortitude?”

Fellirion just raised his eyebrows and shrugged slightly.

“War orphanage opened in Keystone, capacity of thirty, filled within six days. Permission requested to expand into a nearby warehouse…” Troyston’s face fell as he read this. Just how many orphans was this conflict going to leave in its wake? He put down his fork without having eaten anything.

“Ineffectual strategy… calls for increased military jurisdiction, placing command with General Archius Firestride, what?” he looked up sharply.

“Just what it says, I would imagine,” Fellirion said quietly. “Your father appears to have bitten off more than he can chew, so to speak.”

“The military has always been under the control of the council,” Troyston shook his head. “It’s in the founding charter, they’re an army for the people.”

“Yes, they are,” Fellirion nodded. “But the trouble with that definition is that it leaves General Firestride with the problem of what to do if he thinks that the army is not currently being used in the best interests of the people.”

“Take command of it himself...” Troyston said quietly.

“Precisely. He is, after all, your military’s finest, and it will not come naturally to him to execute orders that he sees as flawed.”

“Are they flawed?”

“Not especially, I don’t think so,” Fellirion sighed. “But I am no great judge of such matters, and perhaps the results speak for themselves. Of course, it isn’t really Tarwin’s fault, I suppose, he didn’t know he was going to be fighting dragons.”

Troyston rolled his eyes. “Not that old rumour again,” he muttered, but to his concern, the old man’s face hardened.

“My dear boy, do you honestly think I would be here if it was only a rumour?”

“Er…”

“Oh dear,” Fellirion sighed again. “I see you really haven’t been kept well informed at all, have you? Well, let’s see where I should start… Our problem appears to originate with Tiernach, who has for reasons unknown, decided to start a war between Lordenor and the Freelands, in which he is using at least one dragon in order to maintain the upper hand,” he said, deciding it was simpler just to make the entire statement at once.

Troyston stared at him blankly.

“Tiernach? Irontooth Tiernach?”

“Yes,” Fellirion nodded.

“Started the war?”

“Yes.”

“With a dragon?”

“Yes.”

“Madness…”

“Possibly, yes,” the old man admitted. “I certainly don’t…”

“How would he keep a dragon under wraps?” Troyston interrupted.

“He hasn’t,” Fellirion shrugged. “You said yourself there was a rumour floating about. Nobody has taken it seriously, thus nobody has considered appropriate defences, and thus nobody has been able to stand against Lordenor’s army.”

“Ah,” Troyston nodded slowly. “I see,” he added, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Bugger.”

“Quite.”

They looked at each other for several long seconds.

“So what should we do?” Troyston asked.

“Aha,” Fellirion’s eyes twinkled slightly. “Glad you ask. First, forget all this military mobilisation rubbish. Second, send those guards who’re following you home, they attract attention. Third, you and I are going to take a little trip to Farview, and fourth…”

“Farview?”

“The town southwest of here, on the coast. Good fresh fish.” Fellirion supplied helpfully.

“I know that,” Troyston snapped, frowning. “Why?”

“Well, you see,” leaning forward, elbows on the table, Fellirion lowered his voice to a more conspiratorial tone. “I have had, or rather my great nephew has had, a rather astonishing turn of luck – something that might be very useful to us. I’ve asked him to meet me there.”

“Ok… why do you want me?”

Fellirion gave him an apologetic look. “Because I’m rather afraid I don’t know of anyone else who your father might actually listen to.”

“He doesn’t listen to me!”

“You are his only son,” Fellirion insisted. “He has granted you a position of power and placed a great deal of faith in you. If you and I find proof that the Freelands and Lordenor have been played off against each other, then he will listen.”

“Played off? You said the problem was Prince Tiernach, that’s not played off, that’s an act of war…”

“I am aware of what I said,” the old man’s tone was cool. “But I do not believe that Tiernach would initiate such an act. I know him rather better than you, you see, and it is my feeling that someone is leaning on him. I want to find out who, and I want to find out why, and I want you to witness that and relay the news to your father directly. I am going to ask Princess Aleana to do the same. Hopefully between us, we can bring some sanity to the matter.”

Troyston rubbed his temples. “Can’t your people help?” he asked.

“Possibly,” Fellirion nodded. “But the Council of Magi currently sees this matter as a conflict between nations, nothing more. If we want the Order to enter the fight, we need to demonstrate the involvement of dragons, because all I have right now is deduction and second hand reports.”

“You know you’re likely to get us all killed?”

“It is a possibility,” Fellirion admitted. “But hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“I don’t really feel like dying.”

“My dear boy,” Fellirion looked sadly at him. “Lordenor’s military is superior to yours, and backed up by one or more dragons. You are going to lose this war, and it will very likely be at the expense of a large number of the people now living in the Freelands. I don’t suppose they really feel like dying, either, but that’s not really their choice – it’s yours.”

Slumping in his seat, Troyston looked very pale. “Then I guess I don’t have a choice at all,” he said quietly.