Shadows and Hounds: Sister Seekers, #10

Published by Corpus Nexus Press

ISBN: 978-1-949552-25-6

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Copyright © 2024 A.S. Etaski

Cover Design by Eris Adderly

Book Layout by DocKangey

This book is a work of fiction and intended for adults. Sexual activities represented in this work are between adults and are fantasies only. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as the author advocating any non-consensual activity. Violence may be disturbing to some readers.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Dedicated to 2014, when the first draft hit its stride, and to the 10 years and every reader, collaborator, friend, and patron since.

This writer discovered how your questions, once left open-ended in the story, needed their past and their future before Book 10 could be our present.

Chapter 1

The Redoubt, Kerut River Mounds

*The Guild is ready, Captain Isboern.*

~As are we, Oltere Baradum.~

*Have at, then. As ye will.*

Tension broke, and the collective sensation from hours of waiting in worry passed at last.

I exhaled, high on my hill as Willven Isboern kicked his borrowed mount into an easy lope toward the Manalari camp. My willing mindlink with the Human psion at this distance existed by keeping sight of him.

Meanwhile, Krithannia, Talov, and their Guild leads spoke to each other through their Dragon pearls, trading observations and coordinating with the Captain through me and Mourn’s newest, malformed pearl attached to my ear. Neither the Guild’s chatter nor the flashes of imagery, sensation, or pure thought were constant, so I could keep my mind anchored and aware of my kneeling body while balancing two disparate methods of communication.

The day had just started. Night insects had quieted, and the dew glistened in new light as if dancing to the rising chants of the birds. A distant waterfall added a shush to the steady, warm wind. All this vanished around us when the Manalari people cheered their leader’s arrival.

Jael gripped my arm tightly as if she might pull me away and out of view, distrusting the swelling roar rolling toward us. I resisted, detecting subtle clusters of gladness warring with concern as Isboern and his Templars sorted out where to begin among these last soldiers and refugees the Temple City had to offer.

The bustle continued, but no one attacked at once. Several had started weeping, unleashed emotions rising to wails and calls to the sky which I could hear from here.

I pulled my hood up farther over my brow and whispered, This will be a long day.

You knew this at the planning, said Gavin, his focus on the living auras swirling around the camp and Templars.

Of course, I grumbled. That was before Mourn dragged Mathias out of camp and let him babble about Amelda before stowing him in a cell in the dark of night.

My Deathwalker lifted his bare hands, noting the predictable change of pale white skin steadily greying until it darkened to black underneath direct daylight. We still didn’t know why he changed like that. Hm. Mathias will wait for us. He may be in that magical sleep.

I hoped so. The man was clever and slippery, and I’d only received a taste of all he might know.

As he intended.

I wished for an opportunity before now to find him, but we’d been waiting for Mourn to wake up from his sleep, though not for that reason alone. After escaping a massive battle, too many had been injured, exhausted, and in desperate need of cleansing in one form or another.

The skin hunter hadn’t been important until the Defender of Manalar had reached his limit staying inside the redoubt. Isboern needed to reassure those camping outside that their Godblood was alive and capable of leading them with his Templars.

I wondered where they would be without the psionic Captain. Who else would be willing to take the fight to the Ma’ab after a complete rout of the city? I doubted anyone of higher rank than Isboern had made it out, except Inquisitor Kegyek, who — according to Krithannia — had accepted the opportunity to hide in Augran under Guild protection.

We’ll keep watch on him, she said with a smile. He’s an older man without connections, and he is aware of this. The Inquisitor handed the golden shield over to Captain Isboern in an impromptu ceremony after the Godblood saved his life. I’m impressed he released all control and involvement in the situation.

Aye, Talov added with a shrug, but don’ worry, Kegyek will be back when the dust settles. For all we know, the Godblood might have a use for him that don’t involve torturing souls on behalf ov a paranoid sin gobbler like Keros.

The fact that Mathias had enjoyed a similar role yet hadn’t taken the opportunity was of concern to anyone planning to return to Mount Sonai while the Ma’ab camped on its western slope.

Jael swallowed a noise between grunt and a groan but caught my attention anyway. I glanced at her, glimpsing the strain on her face and moisture seeping from the corner of one eye, a physical response with which we were familiar.

How often had she been in daylight over the last few days? Not often, and only when Mourn had to helped relieve the stress on her body from her new mage’s aura. When he’d fallen asleep, she’d felt sick. I also recalled how, after discovering Osgrid and Rithal at the waterfall, she’d hurried to the redoubt once we’d run out of night.

Will you make it? I asked in Davrin, eyes on the camp.

My Sister shifted as if glancing toward the East before pulling her hood even farther over her face. Do you … ?

I waited. Do I what?

Do you have your … sun mask?

In fact, I did. I hadn’t used it in quite some time.

Men took yours? I asked, reaching for my broader pouch.

Among other things.

True. Mourn had loaned two blades to match her size for the fight in Manalar. She still wore them on her belt.

Jael accepted my mask, donning it at once and breathing out with relief. Her peripheral vision was cut off, but her ears would stand in for most things around us. I waited before speaking.

You haven’t been practicing day-walking.

She growled. I didn’t have much time to get to the Human ant mound! Night was faster.

Her choice of words made me smile, and bearing the weight of my Queen’s compulsion, I imagined too well the urgency which must have gripped her many times over, to the point of shedding hard-earned training from Elder Rausery to endure the Sun. Night was safer for us, and this might have been why she lived to be captured at Manalar.

I nodded but kept eyes forward. Yellow and green grasses waved around the camp. So be it. We’ll practice.

She grunted, though I couldn’t note her expression once the Humans took decisive action.

The Manalari set up a large, open shade pointed my way. Krithannia and Talov murmured to Guildsmen to make sure the shelter would be closely watched and ready to welcome their Captain after he’d completed the appraisal of his fighting men.

The majority of Manalari seemed protective of the Godblood. Spies may be among them, but no assassins proved capable of evading this many eyes watching for threats.

*Spotted a man leaving the camp,* Mourn said.

*Stay close to Isboern,* Krithannia answered. *Guildsmen are shadowing him.*

An image popped behind my eyes, one of a sandy-blond commoner wearing no armor and walking against the flow.

~This one?~ Isboern thought.

*Yes.*

~If I may, he is no threat. I know it looks strange, but he is leaving to pray.~

*To pray?*

~Our minds met a moment ago. His name is Ceri Retulo. He is a speaker in a middle district. I have listened to him before, and he can persuade many here to go to Augran.~

*If that is so,* Mourn asked, *why is he here?*

~Waiting for a sign. He’s received it.~

*Ah. Noted.*

~Do keep watch. I may nudge others should I find them.~

*Keep us informed when you do.*

I concentrated, allowing the various exchanges to pass through me, understanding but engaging them no more than if I’d been leaning against a wall, observing a conversation in a sealed room.

The Godblood’s visit with his people was going well, though we had much to watch at once. The Guild found a few leads, people they would watch. The Captain completed his assessment of his surviving soldiers and the condition of their equipment and weapons. Afterward, he and the Templars retired to the large shade where they could meet with single men or groups and listen to their concerns.

During this time, I did lose track of my body. My spiders finally raised their chime loud enough that I became aware of Jael shaking my shoulder — hard enough to fall over.

Deshi caught me by the shoulders.

"Janshi?" he whispered.

Drink! hissed my Sister right over him, putting the mouthpiece of a waterskin to my lips. Eat! Your belly does not stop growl!

I also had to piss, I realized, but blinked dry eyes and drank deeply first. As cool liquid spread through me, my body gradually came back to me. The day had grown much hotter, the Sun to its zenith. I sweated beneath my hood despite kneeling in shade.

*Sirana?* Mourn asked a split-instant before Isboern shared his thought.

~You need rest. Thank you for your help. I think the greatest unknown has passed, and the danger with it.~

*Aw, no, Captain,* Talov protested. *We’re not leaving. Guild is still on overwatch.*

~So be it, but let us coordinate in other ways. The mindlink nearly dropped. Sirana has lasted as long as the battle itself but has reached her limit.~

As had Jael, who had grown impatient — or worried — with my glassy gaze and tried to push a bite of rations between my lips. I accepted and started chewing as a deliberate way to settle into my body. At the same time, I struggled to respond to the exchange focused on me.

In that moment, I couldn’t manage both, so Isboern let me go.

Oh, Goddess.

*Meet Krithannia,* Mourn said through the pearl. *She’ll let you back inside.*

~Confirmed … ~

I had been comfortable when I started that morning, knowing I’d need to stay in the same spot for hours. Now, I most certainly wasn’t.

Ow, I grimaced, unfolding my limbs slowly to stretch and deal with a swarm of cramps in order of urgency.

We done? Jael asked.

They are not, Gavin answered, gazing out across the field and lacking the veneer of daytime-wear obvious in Jael, Deshi, and I. But you are?

Yeah, I breathed, pulling up my hood to cover my eyes as my head began to pound. That’s … all I can do.

I thought you’d tire sooner.

My lips twisted. Is that a compliment?

More an estimate which proved too conservative.

"Heh. Good to know."

Agreed.

I was smiling by the time I reached my feet. The trampled grass around me offered a hint of Jael’s movements while I’d been entranced. I am to find Krithannia and go inside.

I shall join you, the Deathwalker replied, surprising Jael and me.

You no watch out here? she asked him.

I have seen all I wish.

Not interested if Isboern makes it inside alive? I added dryly, watching him shrug.

My purpose out here was to guard you.

I paused, for certain recalling his volunteering in the meeting. Ah. Our agreement?

Still stands, he confirmed, unblinking, his face the shade of charcoal within his hood. Meanwhile, the Godblood’s understanding on guarding the pool is with my Lady, not me.

I smirked, skeptical. "Your purpose was to break the Bishops’ hold on the pool but not influence who would take their place?"

Rather, I do not hold the hand of one on his own quest. That is not my place.

I wondered about the limits on his place. But you have ideas to aid the Guild in choosing who moves in.

Perhaps.

Can we leave Sun now? Jael interrupted, copper eyes hidden in the sun-mask, her eyebrows drawing down to vanish behind it. I am hungry!

My stomach clamored in agreement, making Deshi smile. Although the Yungian showed interest in pursuing knowledge about his underdeveloped death magic, he did not recognize the second life aura in my belly.

Not yet, anyway.

What of the Nightmare? he asked, motioning to Gavin’s dark horse. She had regained enough flesh to suggest she’d been foraging further sources of meat and insects since my watch started, crunching continuously on something.

My scholar contemplated her for a few moments.

I will test her limits of climbing, he said.

What? Jael barked as Deshi shook his head in disbelief.

Climb … down a ladder? I asked, my eyebrows reaching skyward.

Correct. This seems a good time to refine some control.

If Deshi and Jael were any hint, I looked forward to the expressions on the Naulor faces when we reached the hatch.

Not to mention those of Deshi’s three battle brothers.

All had either watched or experienced Gavin cutting the barbed Malok weapons out of men still capable of screaming. Even had that not happened, the men of Yong-wen would still hesitate to make fun of Sho’shien.

And yet … the goal!

Would they laugh at Death? Would Jael and I be able to keep from bursting out?

This will be fun.

My cheeks grew sore from grinning at the range of dawning comprehension. Gavin’s proposal ended with Krithannia eyeing the circumference of the hatch and comparing it to the breadth of the rejuvenated, undead mare.

Are you serious? she asked as Tami stood with her mouth open.

When was his last jest? I remarked. I don’t recall.

The Guild Mistress smirked. Point taken. Very well, I … think she will fit. It’ll be close.

A good thing if she tilts, Gavin replied.

"You could wait until we reopen the redoubt passage."

I’d prefer not. I would have to wait and lead her.

I see … Let me warn those on watch duty to stay clear.

Indeed. Nightmare could fall.

Jael chortled, leaned in, and whispered, Give warning lest they be squished shorter still.

I smirked at the image but nudged her, glad she’d spoken in Davrin. Indeed.

Gavin’s intention to push his unliving creation up to some strange boundaries drew an audience below, a handful of Dwarves eager for the spectacle. All the better for the mage to test his focus, from the look of things. I was right about the Yungians making every effort under the Sun to resist emotions shifting away from wonder as Gavin stood beside the hole in the ground, instructing Nightmare to back up toward it.

I held my breath as she took her first blind step, hoof clopping onto the first, flat metal bar. She did so without so much as a whicker. Good thing these ladders are made for wide feet and hold weights heavier than Mourn.

Shit, they’re really tryna squeeze her down! said someone below.

The answering murmurs vanished when Gavin stepped next to Nightmare, where he was finally visible to them. The Deathwalker continued whispering, directing her next steps until her front hooves dragged along the ground and her rump dropped suddenly, bumping into the rim of the hatch.

Shh! Shh! Get back, get back …

Not one neigh or burr. Her eyes showed no white at all. A creepy sensation, even in broad daylight.

Tamuril had stepped behind a nearby tree as if she didn’t want to watch, despite it going better than expected. The mare was soon standing vertically on the ladder with forelegs straight out along the dirt, her body below ground up to her chest.

Now what? Not as though she has hands to grip the ladder.

Instead, Nightmare hooked her left front hoof through the gap between each flat rung. Achieving success there, her new muscle proved sufficient to hold her balance long enough to hook the right hoof next. Her chest sank down from view, only her long neck and head poking up from the hole, her attention solely on her master.

I noticed her eyes glowing blue and wondered, briefly, if Gavin might be seeing through them.

Then, the Deathwalker kneeled down and spoke into the hatch. Best move. She can only leap off at this point.

Gah!

Look out, okay?

Move … !

Nightmare’s head swooped out of view. An incredible clatter of hooves against metal and stone, followed by a heavy thump and the nauseating crack of bones. Not one cry that wasn’t a Dwarf gasping or groaning in sympathy.

Then, though out of my sight, Nightmare heaved her body onto her feet.

Very good, Gavin said with satisfaction. That worked better than expected.

She broke her leg, Deathwalker, called the same Dwarf.

Only one leg.

Bone shards are stickin’ out!

Those I can mend. Make room, I am coming down.

Five or six Dwarves shuffled quickly as the death mage entered the hatch. Peng-lok nudged Deshi and whispered something, and the younger man’s face flushed as he shrugged. Meanwhile, Jael and I covered our mouths with our hands, snickering each time we glanced at each other.

Finally, Krithannia sighed, waving her hand to us. Those going inside, do so now. Lessen the noise, if you please.

I didn’t argue; I was still hungry, more tired by the second, and my head throbbed horribly. Nonetheless, I mused how the spectators had been noisier than the climbing horse.

Did not expect something like this today, but maybe I should from death mages.

Including the Ma’ab and Sarilis when conflicts arrived.

Once the hatch closed to cut off the day, Jael took off the sun-mask with a moan of relief. I motioned for her to keep it, and she gladly added it to her meager tools on her belt. Deshi remained with us but his three brothers, Torch, Nianzu, and Peng-lok, stayed outside with Tamuril and Krithannia, who intended to see Captain Isboern through his day.

Mourn, as well.

I wasn’t sure where Talov was despite his engagement through the pearls. I knew only that three Guildsmen of Reprisal — Wolf, Tak, and Hawk — remained outside near a third hidden entrance as backup for the others.

With another moment of breathing the cool air out of intense light, I grew less concerned about what happened up top and focused on food and rest down below.

We stayed with Gavin in his stained and austere surgery room, tucking his awkwardly lame-legged horse inside. Jael and I ate the food that Deshi brought to us and then settled apart on semi-clean cots. I wished we could lie closer, but I needed to drop into Reverie with Soul Drinker firmly attached and peace-knotted to my belt while keeping distance from my allies, who may or may not sleep at the same time.

Willven was right; I needed the rest so didn’t fight it.

I slept, expecting to hear the rush of sand in the wind as the queen of the black dagger called to me. I opened my eyes to catch a glimpse of night-blue dunes dissolving, snatched away in a violent blast of scarlet haze.

In place of blue shadows in the Elsewhere, the red dunes of my lucid dreams burned with vibrant heat. The sky appeared like blood as I stood at sunset in the calm center of a sandstorm, braced upon a shifting crest. Soon, my boots sank up to my ankles. Filled with foreboding, I gazed down and ahead of me.

In the trough below, beside a tiny oasis the size of a standing mirror, was the traveling merchant.

Toushek.

The ancient Davrin, who was not a Davrin but had appeared many times in my dreams, seemed aware of me as he lifted his scarlet eyes. He wore a lightly shimmering robe which covered him from neck to wrists to ankles, finely crafted with multiple colors of threads and decorative beads and pearls. Their designs were intricate and abstract, the shades infinite and ever changing.

There you are, champion, he said in a melodious voice. It should have been too soft to hear him above the circling wind. Our last meeting was rushed, for which I apologize. I would like to talk frankly with our time alone.

Chapter 2

My hand snapped for the red rune dagger.

Not there.

The relic was gone from my belt, vanishing from my dream along with the blue sands. Shit.

Toushek chuckled, beckoning to me with a dark, graceful hand. I sought to ground my thoughts, to shield them against the alluring gesture and compelling sound. Whether or not this proved enough with an entity like this, I narrowed my focus to him alone.

The merchant lifted his chin to see me hesitate. Hm.

Sweeping connections coalesced in the fore of my mind, moments too vibrant to be mere memories. Prior hints and glimpses of this ruler strengthened in my mind’s eye.

The traveling merchant had stood first in a Desert stall, coaxing me closer, while Ta’suil warned me away.

I’d forgotten Toushek, the bua said.

I had never met him as myself until now. I’d always been another cait in uniform, serving someone else. Whether I’d stood safe in a market or dying of thirst in an arid wilderness, Toushek was always male, a Davrin Elf working alone, with no matrons or caits in sight. He made offers to passersby or spoke in ways which seemed important but impenetrable, cryptic and incomplete.

Toushek smiled slightly, sounding wry. So close, was I? Good to know. I wasn’t sure of your importance at the time. But then … your aura reacted curiously to the scorpion statue among my wares. Even before you met him in person.

The Scorpion. My thoughts rushed to the moment I’d met Cris-ri-phon at Brom’s Inn. The Deathless.

I’d witnessed the Zauyrian’s memories once while sharing our sleep. Other times I was him, walking those dreams whether they had happened in life or not. After I’d escaped Troshin’s Bend, I’d continued to see the gold-eyed bua in a remote Desert prison, of the Sorcerer-General promising to free him later.

Only to search and find him gone.

Toushek was at that prison, too.

How long have you been watching him? I asked.

The dreamwalker tilted his head with playful curiosity. "Watching who, exactly?"

I choose with care. The Deathless. Yours was the presence in the Sun Temple, was it not? You broke Cris-ri-phon’s will when he might have left without a fight.

A hint of fangs.

I was. He did not deserve such a hopeful way out. Toushek spoke with satisfaction and perfect ease before his nostril lifted in a touch of bitterness. I told his former grey guardian why. A regrettable mistake on her part.

Houda.

The memory of his icy voice swirled around me, as if he’d summoned those words himself. Your Cris is gone, Houda. Your time is dead as you are. For all our sakes, do not reveal what does not belong to you.

My eyes alighted upon a spray of disturbed sand as the hot wind picked up. She spoke of his Queen’s daughters. A hybrid Davrin-Zauyrian?

Indeed, the merchant confirmed. Hers. No longer his.

No longer?

Still alive?

You could ask your ‘hybrid’ bodyguard about that. You may be glad you did.

My unease climbed as the red dune collapsed in tiny shifts underneath my feet. I recognized the doubt he intended to sow between me and my closest allies.

Much like Soul Drinker in the warp rot forest.

Of course, Mourn knew who this was; he’d confessed that much. But, as my bodyguard, he’d also refused to offer me another name which might draw something worse in Reverie, something I did not understand.

My protector had seen this mysterious ruler after the battle, too, during his deep Sleep. A bronzed-skinned Elf with auburn hair and red wings, talking with Nyx’s agents at the sacred pool.

The Dragon Son had not stayed to engage them but sped past to dive through the waters, coming out in the Red Desert, confirming that Cris-ri-phon existed on the other side in Miurag’s Dreams.

And not him alone …

Toushek looked up sharply, eyes narrowing, and I leaned back, swallowing my thoughts in a void as long as I could, until another connection tugged at my Reverie in welcome distraction.

Who was Captain Xala? I asked.

I’d lived her memory twice: once while I was dreaming in Tami’s hovel — the only time I’d seen the Valsharess I recognized — and a second time when Xala had been exiled and lay dying in the Red Desert. Cris-ri-phon and his older brother had found her by curious luck.

If those events had happened, they must have been millennia apart.

Toushek turned toward me, full of patience I wasn’t sure was real. If you want answers about your Queen, about the Red Desert, I am certain we could make a deal and share a rewarding conversation.

I drew another breath as my stomach sank. I am not here to make deals, Lord.

The merchant quirked one white brow. Oh?

No. I have only sought answers where they may be found. I half-smiled. Or are given freely.

The merchant’s amusement took on a sinister undertone. "A callow opening. Nothing is free, child, though I understand the temptation to pretend the cost of an ill-defined bond is somehow less than an explicit trade. His eyes traced the tops of the dunes. Such payments are doled out over a long period of time, until you forget to account for their true worth."

I sighed, withdrawing from that direction but not confident about any others. "Very well. I do not want to bargain with you at this time, Toushek. I can barely pay my debts as it is, tangible or otherwise. I know an explicit trade with you will tangle the ‘ill-defined’ bonds I’ve got, perhaps nulling them before I find the answers I seek."

His eyes glittered as an abrupt smile graced his lips, his expression taking me aback by its open delight. Thank you for your honesty. Another time.

I folded my arms and waited. The ruler in disguise only turned, peering into the tiny oasis near the hem of his robe. The water was too clear and clean to make sense for its size and placement.

It seems to me, my keeper began with a slow, deliberate tone, that your Queen tries to communicate from deep within the Pit. Many intriguing pieces carried by sparse messengers, and all have been mere fragments. He lifted his gaze to meet mine. The clearest of them come from an oddly fragile champion whose mind nears her breaking point.

My jaw flexed as my calm wavered, my boots sinking deeper in the sand. I tugged out the first after trying several times then worked to free the second. My breath passed through as Isboern had taught me, and I managed to stand atop the sand.

In. And out.

In. And out.

A fair start, he remarked.

Have all ‘messengers’ been ‘champions?’ I asked, sensing the wince from the Queen’s geas even in my sleep.

No. You are the first who has made herself known. Perhaps the first to have escaped. He paused as I continued to stare. May I ask a question regarding this? I am curious about something … important.

I stood wary. If I asked for an answer to an equally important question in exchange, that was a bargain. You may ask. I may not answer.

He bowed his head gracefully, his white hair slipping over his shoulders. Acceptable. First, come closer, out the wind. It is cooler down here and voices carry.

Shit.

You want me to stand at your mirror-pool? I asked forthright.

Toushek tilted his head back and laughed, his red eyes briefly taking on an ivory sheen. Ah. As a matter of fact, I do.

Would you push me through it?

No. I have no interest in disrupting your Dragonchild’s plans for Manalar by abducting you, but I am curious about the one … or two Baenar with whom he has chosen to merge auras. You are a first, as I’ve never seen this touch cloying about him before.

Yes, I said, shifting my stance on the sinking hill. He told me.

Toushek smiled; he looked proud. "Good for him. Beautifully effective when you put your minds to it, whether against the Malok or in snatching that one shining Human soul out of reach of his enemies. I imagine the Dragon son has realized he cannot try for the pool without you, lest he disturb her true guardian. Another chuckle when I didn’t respond. No doubt a surprise to him, if not to me. But then, he never listened to me about such matters."

I stepped partway down the dune while he spoke. The ruler was right, the air was cooler. Pleasantly so. As for what he’d spoken so freely and casually, I set it aside, trying not to inspect it too closely. Easier to assume it must have a speck of truth which might get me to swallow the whole. Truth from his perspective, at best.

Your question, Lord? I prompted, stopping midway.

You cannot see in the mirror, he said, one fang resting on his full lower lip.

I do not know that I will wake up whole if I do.

Ah. I frighten you. He breathed in through his nose. If you understood the weapon you carry, I think talking with me would scare you much less by comparison.

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Another cool breeze swirled through the trough, carrying an oddly familiar scent from far away. I sniffed the air, trying to recall when I’d caught it before.

My visitor smiled. Curious? That is home.

Home?

Yes. Mine. Nearby, but unobtrusive to mortal dreams.

I sighed, taking another step down the slope. Lord. Your question.

You must look in the mirror before you leave.

"You confirm I will leave at all?"

You shall awaken out of Reverie as any Davrin does. He bowed at the waist, his grace more elegant than any Palace bua back home. I have no cause to harm you.

You are forcing a trade.

Not at all. Answering my question is voluntary, and the mirror has little to do with that question. Toushek waited for me to approach. Your courage as a messenger and champion is what offers you any reward for accepting risk and opportunity together.

That ploy was not enough to draw me in, given the source, but my bigger concern was when would I awake from Reverie. Would he decide that, even if it placed me into a state akin to Dragon Sleep? If I wished or waited long enough, could I choose to wake up whether I peered into that mirror or not?

What the fuck am I doing out here?

Toushek laughed, waiting with patient poise.

Breathe.

Finally, I approached. The chill in the air intensified the lower I went, until the unforgettable scent of morning frost entered my nose, bringing memories of me and my Sisters training in the Western Mountains. It also reminded me of the flecks of white drifting around out from a dark cloud, shortly before Morixxyleth had flown off using a pair of newly grown wings.

Snow.

The sky shifted from an eternal sunset into dusk and night; I watched the red sand fade into black and blue. The oasis, though clear and shining, failed to reflect a single star above.

"Hey," I protested, alarmed.

Don’t run, he commanded.

A clear warning.

At the edge of the mirror and right before my eyes, the sand fused into rock, a stone floor spreading like the contents of a spilled goblet beneath my feet. The horizon vanished, as did the sky, as if someone had pulled down the Moons. All pathways disappeared into darkness, shadows surrounding us, as if a mountain had swallowed the trough in the dunes.

The only source of dim light radiated from the rough, clear crystal encasing a disquieting and too-familiar black throne.

Goddess …

You are the wielder of Soul Drinker, said the Elven ruler. Have you checked on the gatekeeper lately?

I’ve … been occupied, I croaked, my heartbeat throbbing in my ears.

He sneered. "I assure you that demon does not intend to wait until you aren’t occupied."

Toushek stood in between me and that black throne, and his appearance changed to a form like I’d seen at the first battle of Manalar: a head taller than me, his natural Elven beauty enhanced seven-fold while his skin lightened from Davrin-black to red-bronze and his long, white hair shifted to a shade like burned copper.

No longer covered neck-to-foot in modest travel clothes, the ruler stood naked from the waist up, his chest and arms bare, hands lightly adorned by elegant rings on his fingers. His legs and feet were still covered by the brown leather sarong. Large, earth-red wings rose and expanded freely from his back. Finally, ivory horns jutted through his hair in fine points, taking the shape of a crown.

Sirana.

My name struck like a blow, the first time he’d spoken it since this dream began.

"You risk everything dear to you should you ignore this too long."

I tried to look at his face, his empty eyes subtly glowing the same shade as his horns. "What do I ignore, Lord? And who are you? If we’re speaking names, you don’t look like a ‘Toushek.’"

One corner of his mouth lifted. Thank you. Here, in Ice Heart, you may call me Indrath. But do have caution using it anywhere else.

Ice Heart? Where was that?

Indrath, I repeated with a nod. What am I ignoring?

Look closer at the crystal you created, he urged, stepping out of my way. I was not lying to you. Your solution, while unique, is temporary.

Two steps closer to that throne, I stopped, unwilling to peer deeper into the motionless shadow within. Nonetheless, I spotted the hairline cracks at the base.

Damn it all.

This is the ‘mirror’ you wanted me to look at before I woke up?

Nothing more, he agreed, standing at my shoulder and studying the crystal mass like a fine sculpture.

I frowned. Are you hinting at a better solution?

"Mine is better, he crooned, but would require a deal."

"Pfft. No. I don’t want to end up like Cris-ri-phon."

Or Innathi.

Very well. I remind you of my voluntary question which you agreed to hear.

Sigh.

Yes?

Who is your child’s father?

I froze, my heart surging, my mind unable to think. I seized on a memory in the Guild’s quarters in Augran, as Mourn held his hand to my belly, sensing the new aura and heartbeat of my baby.

Mm, no, the Ice Lord countered. To’vah-krav are not fertile, I’m afraid. Although … this could explain the curious gold thread I see in this precious new aura, depending on the nature of your Bargain with him.

Gold thread?

Indeed. Your child is touched by To’vah magic, the same as your ‘sister’ is.

What? Had …

Had he done that on purpose?

If the father cannot be the Dragonchild, Indrath continued, who is he, Sirana? Will you answer?

I tried to speak: No, I will not.

My voice was stuck.

There is another possibility, he continued as if in light conversation, choosing not to notice my distress. Your Queen bears such a mark. Tell me, does she have any sons? And did you bed one of them?

Three or four questions I never agreed to answer.

I wanted to leave.

Let me go.

Not yet, Sirana. You haven’t answered.

I bent over, hands clutching at my chest, my throat; my mouth was open but silent. Which ruler was causing this inability to speak my mind? The Ice Lord, my Queen, or both at once? The pain had been much worse before, but mostly, I feared I would never escape.

Because I couldn’t speak!

I must leave. Let me wake.

You haven’t refused to answer. I would like to know.

Argh!

I dropped to the floor, curling over my knees with arms crossing my middle. Stop looking at us …

Your actions are too curious for me to do that. Just speak the father’s name or say ‘no.’ The feeling will stop.

I could do neither. I was stuck. I was certain that he knew it.

I couldn’t stay here until the crystal cracked. I refused to be alone when it happened. I didn’t have to be.

Not again.

I had to tell them.

~M-Mor … ~

Yes?

Consciously, I drew the strain from my face, relaxing my shoulders as I breathed. ~Morixxyleth.~

Indrath didn’t respond. He looked around and above us.

M-Morixxyleth! I growled out from the floor. Morixxyleth!

Good pronunciation. Draconic is diffic —

Gavin!

Indrath stopped.

Gavin! Help me!

Cold air drifted in as if from outside, and Indrath sighed as he turned around.

Welcome to Ice Heart, Deathwalker, he said cordially. Careful where you place your feet, it’s a steep drop. Tell me, where is your battle brother?

Crossing the shadows, I believe.

My heart thundered in my chest to hear my ally’s voice somewhere high in the dark chamber. Gavin’s familiar gait took steps one at a time.

It worked?

Apparently, Indrath said, slightly annoyed.

How? Had they been hovering over me or asleep and dreaming? Had Jael told them something was wrong, or could they see for themselves?

Aha, the Ice Lord sighed, turning to me. That would mean —

I shrieked when dark, clawed hands reached from the shadows, grabbing and dragging me into them.

I came aware some distance from the winged Elf. My bodyguard clutched me tightly, loosening his grip only to push me behind him. His long tail wrapped around my waist as an assurance I wouldn’t be snatched right back.

Exquisite timing, Indrath mused.

I gathered my bearings, realizing Mourn had reappeared behind Gavin on a dizzyingly high staircase, one far too narrow for its height. We stood high above the throne room upon a weaving pathway which lacked any banisters or railings at all.

Nothing but void underneath.

Do you claim right of contract, Lord? the half-blood asked, snarling his question.

Indrath huffed a dry laugh. No, Shadow’s son. She told me she is not interested at this time.

Mourn caught the phrasing, I was sure, but did not react. Then we will take our leave. But first, I ask that you take yours and let the throne be where it is. Give a granddaughter more time.

Indrath’s quiet laugh held that worrisome threat from before. Oh, not to worry. I quite like how it is. Creative. Insightful. Perceptive, even. Work to be proud of. I look forward to the next phase.

My limbs shook to hear this. What did he mean to say?

The Ice Lord offered nothing else, summoning a door much like the one he’d used at the Temple of Manalar. Snowflakes drifted in and landed on the floor, refusing to melt.

If the gatekeeper becomes too much for you, granddaughter, Indrath said, his ivory gaze tracing the floating stairway up to me, "you may always call. I will help you rather than see you consumed. Next, he addressed Gavin. Herald of the Grey Maiden. Please pay my respects to your Lady. Tell her I am open to new arrangements."

Lastly, the Ice Lord grinned menacingly at Mourn, showing full fangs. "As for you, trespasser, be careful. Lest we meet in Ice Heart without a pregnant mother between us."

With this, the winged Elf stepped through a door which ceased to exist an instant later. Gavin, Mourn, and I stood upon stairs leading to nowhere, gazing down at the subtle glow of crystal containing the gatekeeper.

Gradually, convinced we were alone, Gavin pointed beyond the throne. Is that the way?

The way? I echoed.

To the Elsewhere. Where you spoke to the ensnared eidolons.

Uh, I think? … Um, yes, it is.

Interesting. I can hear them from here.

He could? I certainly could not.

The Deathwalker turned toward us, his pupils subtly glowing. Sirana killed a Hellhound inside the Temple, did she not?

She did, Mourn answered, and I groaned as we followed his chain of thought.

I’d thrown the red rune dagger in that tight hall of the Temple, burying the blade in the chest of that pale giant of a man. Soul Drinker had cut through his protective wards, claiming his Vis and Vitas at once. The Hellhound had collapsed without throwing his spiked chain at an easy cluster of opponents.

After the battle, Innathi teased me about the new Ma’ab presence in her realm. Him and Kurn.

You’d have to get past the Davrin Queen, I murmured, unable to hide the tremors as exhaustion crept in.

We may discuss it, Mourn said, gathering me close. As we shall all options.

Indeed. Gavin gazed past the crystal sculpture, perhaps still listening to the dead but disinclined to press the measure.

My bodyguard turned me toward the nearest shadow. Let us leave and rise awake.

His body blocked the way down so I didn’t have to look at the throne … or the larger crack which appeared in the crystal just after Indrath left.

Damn the Void.

And damn the Hells that offered to cage it for a price.

Chapter 3

I awoke in the circumstance I expected, with Jael hovering above me. She vibrated with nerves, drawing my attention despite the Dragonchild being so much closer.

Sirana? Her throat was tight. Can you hear me?

I met her eyes. Yes …

It worked, my bodyguard murmured above me in Trade. She is safe.

Jael sagged in relief, and my eyes slid upward. Gavin was kneeling by my head, his dry palm upon my sticky brow. He lifted it as soon as I spoke, his irises rising out of blackness. The Deathwalker got to his feet without a word, putting space between us. Glancing around me, I confirmed laying in his quarters within the Dwarven redoubt, in the same stained cot in the corner where I’d settled down.

Mourn loomed over me, his hand closed tight and entirely around mine, both of us gripping Soul Drinker by its black, red-marked handle. Threads of the loosened peace-knot peeked out from between his fingers.

Who was it? Krithannia asked.

I blinked in surprise, craning to see who else was in the room. I spotted the Guild Mistress and Tamuril, with Pilla doing her best to smooth her feathers. The greybeard Talov held Mourn’s shadow drake, Graul.

And Willven Isboern.

The Godblood had returned inside to come here? How long had this been going on?

Mourn’s tail swiped briefly across the stone floor as he exhaled, taking his time to choose an answer. First, he helped me to sit up, letting Jael stay beside me as I rested against the wall.

The same power who interfered with the Deathless at the sacred pool, he said.

What?

The red-winged lord I saw in my Sleep.

Krithannia paled. Wh- … What did he want?

Mourn glanced at me. At the least, he wanted to show he can reach Sirana through Soul Drinker whenever he chooses.

My mouth opened, and Tami gasped in alarm. Talov rumbled something in Dwarvish which sounded like a harsh curse.

Payback? asked the greybeard.

I’m certain.

Fer the ‘trespass?’

He mentioned that. Mourn paused. But something else has occurred in my Dreams. I am certain he is following a trail, and I may have interfered again.

Talov’s smirk appeared even through his beard. In his arms, Graul scoffed, leaning his head and neck down to signal the Dwarf should set him on the floor. Jael moved closer to hold me, sniffing briefly at my neck and putting her arm around me, while Graul waddled over to Mourn’s lap.

How can he access the relic directly and at will? Krithannia asked, both stern and worried. I thought only the wielder could commune in that state.

The Dragonchild lifted his small companion and shook his head. Apparently not. But we’ve known for some time he had something to do with the creation of the Deathless, and we all witnessed at the Temple that he controls him. Something we suspected, but this revealed a much longer history with the black dagger than we knew.

Clearly, she agreed, quite unhappy about the revelation.

He’s sure grinding his heel in it, ain’t he? Talov grumbled. Think he’ll try tah make yer Bargain harder tah keep?

Probably, Mourn confessed.

I glanced at the Human Captain and his patient expression, wondering how much he understood. I had been in the center, yet I barely followed their cryptic talk.

Mourn’s tail suggested he might be worried. I certainly was, having learned I could be captured and in need of rescue even when my body nestled in my bodyguard’s lap.

The Dragonchild had warned me since Yong-wen about my lucid dreams with my buas, that others might be drawn to us. I hadn’t understood how or who might have concerned him.

Now, I did. I knew the name of one ancient who wanted to know my baby’s sire and had tormented Cris-ri-phon for ages — probably through Soul Drinker, if the determined Brom Troshin had worked with the Ma’ab for decades to retrieve the relic of his assassinated queen.

I understand it’s unwise to speak his name, Captain Isboern began. But I must ask. Do you mean the presence I sensed before the deathless sorcerer turned from the door and cast the strike that opened the rift, allowing the Grey mists and creatures through?

We do, Mourn said. And later, that same presence was speaking with the Grey guardians. I do not know what they discussed.

That is … concerning.

You still have the boon from my Lady, Gavin said, his eyes drifting with subtle longing toward his worktable. "She has granted your lifetime to fulfill the oath you made while kneeling in Pisc’sagrad waters."

However long or short that lifetime proves to be.

Thank you. The Captain considered that. "Do I understand we may have opponents beyond the Ma’ab in reclaiming Pisc’sagrad?"

Safe tah assume, Talov said. The Bishops sure did.

And if this … um, nameless one —

The merchant, I offered. He’s most often appeared as a traveling trader.

"You’ve seen him before?" Krithannia asked, hiding her alarm well in front of Isboern.

"I didn’t know it was him before. Now I do. He is a merchant. He offers what you need but only through deals."

Captain Isboern leaned away as if a realization struck him. The ‘Merchant’ is a devil? He read my Sister’s face and put up his hands. "Not the frail ‘proof’ the Dios Guerrimos accepted to interrogate innocents on devilry, but a true devil?"

Devil? Jael repeated with impatience, her face twisting in frustration. Called me this a lot. Still don’t grab what.

What the Manalari call devils and demons, Isboern explained, "they do without discretion. I understand they are not the same among those worldly enough to see their patterns. He dipped his chin to Mourn. Each of them corrupts what is generous and loving within us, but the devils do so by negotiation, coaxing exchanges with hidden costs which bind tightly until one’s soul is trapped. The creatures I would call ‘demons’ do not have any such desire for trade or structured deals. They consume what they wish and cannot truly be bargained with. They overwhelm and wear down until the soul loses the will to resist."

My eyebrow raised in thought. The psion had skewered the difference I’d experienced, facing both the gatekeeper and the Ice Lord.

Interestin’ that ya heard it like that, Captain, Talov said, smiling wryly. Aye, tha’s the Clans’ take on these tempters showin’ up in our oldest tales an’ sneakin’ about our world.

The Godblood smiled mildly. The world’s stories do seem to have a kernel of truth to be found, though much of it may lie beyond life’s known borders.

Gavin nodded in thoughtful confirmation, hearing something he’d once told me spoken plainly by another. This made it easier to see how the Abyss and the Hells held conflicting methods but the same goal: to feed an unrelenting hunger for power and dominance over …

Over what? Magic? Life? Vis?

Not unlike the Priestesses of the Sanctuary using the Davrin of Sivaraus, wearing us down to sate their desires and attain their goals of influence. If they and my Valsharess served the Abyss, which I knew to be true, then I understood why the Ice Lord had dropped those remarks to tease or tempt me, fully convincing me that he knew something useful about Her.

Like bearing the ‘mark’ of a Dragon. Or asking me if I bedded one of Her sons … I shook my head, squeezing my eyes closed as a confused, hollow denial swept through me. Madness.

Above me, Talov spoke with a soothing rumble. "Aye. Best we can tell, the ‘Merchant’ is a race ov Elf, but aligned with the Infernal Hells. We don’t know how old he is, just that he’s been making himself a pain in our Dragon Son’s backside fer the last century."

It’s fair to say, Mourn interjected, I might have thrown the first insult, Talov.

"Pah! Seems tah me ya shook ’im last time, so he’s tryna shake ya back."

This does Sirana little good, my friend, if I’ve pulled her in between us.

Not how I see it, kid. She was pulled in by Brom an’ that dagger. Ya pulled her out before that deal broker could make it worse.

Mourn appeared like he might counter that, but I straightened up, drawing his attention.

You pulled me out, I agreed firmly. "In the warp rot forest, you saved me and my baby. I … don’t know what might have happened to me if you and Gavin hadn’t carried me to the river to rest. Either I’d have starved, or the dagger would have gotten me. It took days to avoid those outcomes."

Jael’s mouth dropped open while the Dragonblood’s shoulders lowered. My bodyguard gave up the argument to the greybeard’s satisfaction.

"Heh, an’ that was before yer agreement. Bet the ‘Merchant’ is annoyed you caught up tah a Dark Elf before he spotted an easy target gettin’ in over her head."

"She not easy," Jael growled impulsively.

Talov lifted his palms in peace, grinning. Aye. Yer right. She’s tough.

But I am in over my head.

The Dwarf’s smile proved infectious, touching Graul, Krithannia, Tamuril, and Isboern before gradually coming to me and Mourn. I squeezed my Sister’s shoulder and drew another deep breath or two. She chewed her inner cheek to hold a contrary nature in check, as it tended to bubble over when she was uneasy.

How went the events in camp after I left? I asked, looking at Isboern to answer.

The man with blue eyes like mine blinked in surprise, blond eyebrows lifting. Oh. Well! Nothing too troublesome. Those who cannot help shall leave in the next few days, and I received all the insights I need to bring to the Guild’s table.

And … I hesitated. Mathias Briar?

Still in his cell, Talov answered.

Awake?

Oh, aye! The Dwarf laughed, making me wonder how the Clans were handling him or what he might be saying. "Less worry, lasschen. He can wait."

Until when?

At least until you’ve eaten. Mourn climbed to his feet, cradling Graul with one arm and moving my boots closer to me with the other.

We’re discussing strategy later tonight, Krithannia said as I took one boot and put it on. After we collect everyone’s ideas. I’d like you and Jael to be there before we speak with the skin hunter.

Huh bua …

There’s enough time to eat and refresh yourself, Isboern agreed. So, please, take the opportunity.

I stood up, stamping my feet to settle them in my boots before retying the peace-knot around Soul Drinker. Very well.

Come to my quarters, Mourn said. We’ll eat there.

Alright. I checked my spider pouch, alarmed to find it empty. Um, wait …

~Where are you, babies? Come out where I can see you.~

Two chimes, and large, black spiders crawled out together from a shadowed corner. I went to collect them while Pilla clacked her beak, releasing a brief, irritable cry when Tamuril stepped slightly behind Isboern. Meanwhile, Graul turned his head and hissed at the feathered hunter.

Always forget the spiders until we sense crawling, Jael smirked.

Quite true, but notable to me was how many others had surrounded me while I’d been unaware and in distress, and yet my tiny guardians never attacked.

~Are you that discerning?~ I thought, a question they couldn’t answer.

If not, then perhaps these allies simply felt that safe.

Chapter 4

Mourn shared a large meal with Jael and me, Graul nibbling some before crawling into a soft nest of bedding in the corner. Just the four of us for now, and my tender head and ears thanked me for the lack of excess stimulation while I ate.

I’d been outside in the summer heat for half the day, helping to maintain a complex, psionic-magic mindlink for the Guild. I’d gone inside only to plummet into a threatening and thoroughly unrestful Reverie, which was then followed by an intense discussion about an insulted devil usurping a demon’s relic.

I hadn’t begun to recover.

I am not certain I am up for the strategy meeting, I admitted once we’d cleaned the bowls set upon the serving tray. Am I crucial?

The half-blood considered. You are where my involvement lies, and I am crucial to the outcome.

Something about how he said it made Jael snort softly, but she waved her hand, telling him to ignore her.

Mourn gave her a look but continued. "After four hundred years, the Bishops I helped to create are gone. I want to see Willven Isboern and the men he has trained rebalance the magic of Mount Sonai. I will help make it happen because the Ma’ab would be as bad or worse than the Bishops in restricting her flow."

"Her flow," Jael repeated, shaking her head slightly.

Yes, Mourn answered, sounding slightly annoyed. She bears a recognized Name among the To’vah.

A pool of water is female.

"Yes. And you benefitted from that while fighting with me in the Temple."

My Sister blinked. I did?

You did. Mourn’s tail flicked. Or the Words I fed you would have you holding your tongue for a week.

It wouldn’t last. I bit my lip rather than say that. We’re not in the Cloister.

Jael’s nose wrinkled. So, what is her name?

He sighed. It’s not wise to speak it without need.

"Pfft. All boast, you."

The half-blood’s tail thumped, and Graul’s eyes cracked open as the drake lifted his head to prop it on the edge of his nest, peering with annoyance at the argument.

"Sihe, Mourn hissed. Do you want to learn To’vah magic, or not?"

Want to? Jael threw up her hands. I must! Or am crazy from pain!

Then stop doubting what I say. You sound foolish.

Oh! I am not to ask and think? Just wait and obey?

This time Mourn huffed in disbelief, his spines attempting once to lift beneath his harness. "You haven’t discipline for either, Baenar, but need both to learn. Have I not proven I can teach you?"

Jael growled without words, matching his glare out of pure spite. Whatever rolled through her thoughts, she kept them to herself before jerking her eyes over to the tub of fresh water, soap, and clean towels.

Fine. No more doubt. She got up and stepped away, tugging her shirt from her leather pants. I will wash.

Mourn’s irritation filled his large frame before he released it with a quick whip of his tail and a deep breath.

Meanwhile, Indrath’s remarks sounded unwelcome in my mind.

I have no interest in disrupting your Dragonchild’s plans for Manalar by abducting you, but I am curious about the one … or two Baenar with whom he has chosen to merge auras. … I imagine he has realized he cannot try for the pool without you, lest he disturb her true guardian.

A question about the Merchant, I said once my bodyguard had calmed.

Yes?

He called us granddaughters. Was he Baenar once?

No, Mourn answered immediately. Nor was he Naulor. Of that, Krithannia and I are certain.

I would take his word for it. So, why ‘granddaughters?’ You used it to placate him?

He shrugged, glancing over at Jael, who was halfway undressed. More or less. He is a monarch like your Valsharess, but one who would claim all of those bearing Elven blood on Miurag if he could.

I blinked. Naulor and Davrin both?

Absolutely. Along with half-bloods like me.

Another memory jolted me.

"Hers. No longer his."

Half-bloods. I repeated. Like the Davrin-Zauyrians? Would the Merchant claim Cris-ri-phon’s children?

Mourn’s tail paused. He would. If he could reach them.

You could ask your ‘hybrid’ bodyguard about that, Toushek chuckled. You may be glad you did.

All twelve? I asked. They’re alive?

Too direct. He leaned back from the question. "We’re losing time. Sirana, will you wash with your Sister so the Dwarves can change the supplies before I leave? I will attend this meeting if you are too tired and lock Soul Drinker in Talov’s box to assure your safety. You may stay here with Graul. We can revisit