Nitesh

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NITESH

By JennaKay Francis

Writers Exchange E-Publishing http://www.writers-exchange.com/epublishing/

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NITESH Copyright  2004 KAY ALLEN Writers Exchange E-Publishing PO Box 372 ATHERTON QLD 4883 Cover Art by: Jo Dunningham Published Online by Writers Exchange E-Publishing http://www.writers-exchange.com/epublishing/ ISBN 1 920741 85 2 All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.

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CHAPTER 1 "Bind and brand them." The words sent a chill racing through Thalassa, and a murmur of despair through the long line of war captives. Thalassa's gaze traveled over those around her. A sorry lot they were, though not all were her countrymen. The dark-haired Diraenians and Asurians stood out amongst her people, the pale-skinned, blondhaired Zals. Most of the captives were under-nourished, many were injured. All showed signs of their long weeks on the road. Resignation lay heavy on their battered and bruised faces, deep within pitiful eyes that held no hope. Their existence had come to a shattering conclusion. To the victor go the spoils, Thalassa thought bitterly. We have all become nothing more. Nothing more than slaves, indentured to those who had maimed and scarred the countryside, claiming it as their own. At twenty years of age, that wasn't much of a future. If she had a future at all. She shuddered and returned her gaze to the heavily muscled man at the front of the line. He yanked the first person forward, a young boy of no more than eighteen, with the dark hair and eyes of a Diraenian. The lad's face was white, his terror obvious. Thalassa watched as the guard wrapped the boy's arms about a thick post sunk deep into the muddy ground. The burly man seemed to take great pleasure in making the ties as tight as possible, as if he expected the lean youth to suddenly fight back. Thalassa grimaced in anger. For a moment, the lad's gaze met hers, then he closed his eyes and hung his head. The captive's back was bared, exposing a thin torso. Thalassa could see his ribs with every gasping breath he took. Quickly, she reached out to him with her magic to shield him from pain, as another man approached with a red-hot metal brand. He pressed the brand against the boy's left shoulder, held for a moment, then released. Though the lad stiffened, he did not cry out in pain. Still, as cold water was poured across the brand, he sagged against the wood. The brander frowned in confusion, no doubt used to hearing screams of agony at his touch. He leaned forward to peer into the boy's face, then grunted, shrugged and tramped back to the fire pit to reheat the iron. It was only then that Thalassa eased the youth into unconsciousness, a small sigh of fatigue escaping her. The guard untied the boy, letting him collapse in the mud. Another guard dragged him away, while the next person was secured in his place. With each one, Thalassa took on their pain, drew it away from them, then allowed them to fall into a deep, healing sleep. She was aware of the thick silence that had descended, of the strained and confused looks on the guards' faces. They were exhibiting their own fear now, no doubt puzzled at this strange turn of events. Thalassa controlled her smile of satisfaction, quietly continuing to move to the back of the line, one by one. She would be the last. Finally, it was her turn. She faced the post with head high, though her heart hammered. She wasn't sure if she had the strength left to control her own pain. As her arms were secured, she closed her eyes, and reached deep within herself for what small magic she yet held. Cold air rushed over her back as her tunic was pulled away. Footfalls behind her warned her of the brander's approach, and she 4

stiffened, waiting. Though she felt the press of the metal against her skin, she managed to ward off the pain of the burn, then sighed with relief as the pressure eased. She was about to allow herself to sleep, when sudden, severe pain ripped through her face. For a moment her mind whirled with confusion, then her eyes snapped open, and a gasp escaped her. The brander stepped back, holding a smaller iron, a leering smile on his face. Thalassa stared at the iron in wide-eyed disbelief—a pentagram. The mark of magic; it was forever seared onto her left cheek, for the world to see. Agony brought tears to her eyes, and, try as she might, she could not summon the magic to ease her pain. Another man took the brander's place. He was a sturdily-built man, with muscles that rippled beneath his white linen shirt. He tipped her head back, using one long, elegant finger. His dark eyes held hers as he extended his other hand toward some unseen person. A second later, he gently rubbed a cooling salve into the brand on her cheek. "You have a strong gift to be able to shield all of these people," he said quietly. "Mind how you use that gift, sea-woman." Thalassa trembled under his touch, realizing he had been watching her. Still, she would not give in to the command he seemed to demand. "My name is Thalassa," she said, her voice cold and aloof, "not sea-woman." The man's eyebrows raised in surprise, and a small smile quirked his full lips. "Magic and spirit," he said. "That combination could get you killed." "What care I? My soul died when my countrymen did," Thalassa told him. "There is only this shell left." His gaze traveled to her swollen belly. "And the child. Has the child's soul also died?" Thalassa trembled, momentarily overwhelmed with emotion. The child. This child created from an act of rape, not love, though the father had been her own husband. At first, she had hated the child as much as she had hated her husband, but over the last eight months she had come to accept it. Love was not yet in the offering. "The child is not mine," she said. The man again was surprised, and he studied her for a long moment. His gaze traveled down her neck, lingered a moment on the white skin of her breasts, and finally moved to her wrist. He touched lightly at the red streak that lay halfway between wrist and elbow. "You have the Sickness," he said quietly. "Aye," Thalassa whispered smugly. "So your brand will do no good. I will be dead before I can serve you and your house." The man studied her a long moment, his finger continuing to gently stroke her arm. It sent chills racing through her, and she could not suppress her tremble. A small smile touched at his lips, though there was no warmth in it. "Cut her loose," he instructed the guards, "and take her to Ilsa." He looked back at Thalassa. "I will send for you later." Thalassa watched him stride away, noticing the confident way he walked, the head held high, as long, dark tresses drifted in the breeze. There was no doubt who was in control of this camp. The thought sent a rage bubbling through her. He had 5

been the one to order the branding; it was his voice, cool and unemotional, that had promised pain to men, women, and children alike. And a life of servitude. Her bonds were untied and she was pulled away from the post. Her tunic, torn at the shoulders, fell about her waist, exposing her breasts. Though both guards leered, neither touched her. Obviously, they weren't going to incur the wrath of their lord. She now belonged to him. *** Elfin Crown Prince Terran drew a long slow breath and clutched his hands behind his back. He regarded the man before him with heavy determination in his dark eyes. "No, father," he said firmly, "I will not wed simply to produce an heir." King Liam took a long pull on his wine, before looking up at his eldest son. "Elise has been gone for almost one year now. It is time you stopped mourning her death." "It has only been eight months, father," Terran replied, his voice tight. "Still, I do not chase after ghosts. However, I see no point in placing another woman in jeopardy simply for the sake of producing an heir to the throne." "No point?" The king rose, his blue and silver robes swirling about his muscular frame. "Terran, if you do not produce an heir by your thirtieth birthday, the crown will forfeit to your brother. You know that!" Terran turned away, unwilling to let his father see the anger that filled his soul, a consuming anger that was evident in the tightened jaw line and the scowl. "What good will it do me to wed and produce a child, father? Unwin will only kill the woman, and the child, as well." "Stop it!" Liam sputtered. "You have no proof that Unwin had anything to do with Elise's death. Why would he do such a thing? He's your brother!" "You said it yourself, father. Today is my twenty-ninth birthday. If I don't produce an heir by year's end, the crown forfeits to Unwin. I see precious little that I can do to stop it. I would have to meet, marry, and mate in the next two months. I do not believe that is palatable, or even possible." He frowned and strode to the open mullioned window, his attention diverted. "What is that infernal drumming?" "Drumming?" Liam joined his son at the window. After a moment, he shook his grayed head. "I hear nothing, but, then, that's to be expected at my age." Terran listened a moment longer, then looked back at his father with a small, grim smile. "And don't try to ply me with that getting-old routine. You're as fit as they come." The king smiled. "Will you at least consider meeting with Princess Sylvia?" "When will she be arriving?" Terran asked, resignation evident in his voice. Liam looked hurt. "Would I invite her for a visit without your consent?" "When?" Terran pressed. "In a fortnight," the king answered with a soft chuckle. He reached out to squeeze Terran's shoulder affectionately. "Her father insisted, and she is a good prospect, Terran. She's quite beautiful from what I've heard." "Beauty does not equate love, father," Terran replied, then cocked his head again at the sound of the drums beating in the distance. "I'll meet with the princess, then. Just be quite sure to post extra guards around her quarters. We 6

certainly don't need strained relations with Asuria." The King stiffened at the word. "Our relations with Asuria are always in question, Terran. Perhaps this marriage will put some ease into it." Terran grimaced at his father's words. "Marriage?" he muttered, then strode toward the door of his father's study. "I'm going riding. I shall return later." "How much later?"

Terran tossed his father a smile. "In time for the princess, father, don't worry." He slipped out the door and hurried down the hallway, the drums pounding in rhythm with his heart.

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CHAPTER 2 Thalassa moaned and reached up to touch at the burn on her cheek. A cool hand stayed the motion. "Nah, girlie, don't touch at it," a voice gravelly with age warned. Thalassa opened her eyes. An old woman with thin white hair sat on a bentwood stool beside the bed. Her blue eyes, cloudy with cataracts, appraised Thalassa thoughtfully. Thalassa guessed she was Ilsa, the one the man in the courtyard had mentioned. "What ya did out there, for the others, was nice, but it was stupid. Why did ya go showing off your magic like that? 'ere? In front of these people?" Thalassa winced under the harsh words. "I did only what my conscience bade me to do," she replied. "I could not let them suffer when I had the means to prevent it." The old woman sighed. "Aye, I can feel the empathy within ya. Your gift is strong. But its use was for naught. Suffering is the way of life 'ere, thanks to 'im." "To who? That lord?" "Aye, and 'is brother." Thalassa pondered a moment on the woman's words. She remembered the gentleness of the man's touch as he had applied the salve. How could one be merciless one moment, then so tender the next? She sighed and pulled to a sitting position on the narrow bed. Her gaze flicked about the small room. It was not unlike those she had grown up in—dirt floor, uneven wooden walls stuffed with moss, a small hearthless fireplace, and a thatched roof overhead. The cottage smelled of weak soup and stale bread, no doubt the only foodstuffs she would be eating now. She brought her gaze back to the old woman. "What are their names? The brothers?" "The one in the yard is called Lord Adrick. 'is brother, the holder of this land, is called Rhaeven." "Rhaeven? That's an odd name for a man." "Daren't ya let 'im hear ya say that, girlie. He's as crafty as a raven is, mind ya. As wily and evil, as well. Isn't a thing done 'ere that isn't by 'is command. And all who knows 'im, follows that command without question." "Even his own brother?" The old woman snorted. "Don't be taken in by Adrick's manner. 'e's a fox, that one is. Smooth and beautiful, but 'e'll rip ya to shreds should ya step the wrong way." She rose from her chair, taking the small tin plate she held with her. Thalassa touched gently at her burned cheek. Her fingers came away sticky with some foul-smelling salve. She grimaced and wiped the medicine on the ragged bed covering. "Lord Adrick said I would be serving him. In what way?" The woman shrugged, picking up a clean bowl. She ladled some soup from the iron pot hung over the flame. "'horing for 'im most likely." She sat the bowl down on the small wooden table, then motioned Thalassa near. "Come an' eat. Ya'll not be working til the babe is born, at any rate." Thalassa swallowed her disgust, and rose unsteadily. One hand touched lightly at her pregnant belly. "And how will he keep me from becoming like this again?" 8

she asked. Ilsa grunted. "He has 'is ways, girlie. But so do I. We'll talk more when it becomes a problem." "And the child? What will Rhaeven do with this child?" The old woman regarded Thalassa's belly. "Most likely sell it, if'n it's a boy. If'n it's a girl…dunno. Meybe kill it." Thalassa caught at her breath in horror. For the first time since carrying this child, she felt protective of it. Both hands covered her stomach, her fingers splayed as if to encompass the entire thing. "No!" she whispered. "Not just because it's a girl." "No use for a girl child," Ilsa retorted. "A boy child can bring money, but a girl child brings only costs." She plunked a piece of hard bread down next to the bowl. "Eat." Thalassa sank down on the chair, numb with despair. The red streak on her arm shone like a beacon against her chalk-white skin. She stared at it, willing its course upwards towards her heart. She would rather that both she and the child die of the Sickness. She pushed the food away, and laid her head on her arms on the table. "What's the point of eating, Ilsa? It will only prolong my death." Ilsa was quiet for a long moment, though she rustled about the room. Finally, she sat down at the table. Thalassa looked up at the sound of stones clicking together. Ilsa held a small leather bag, which she shook gently. Finally, she held it out to Thalassa. "Draw ya a stone," she instructed. Thalassa hesitated, then reached into the bag and felt of the small, cool stones therein. She touched each, then drew out one, which she handed to Ilsa. The old woman took the stone, peered closely at it, then looked up with surprise. "Parjuk," she said quietly. "The Rune of Travel, of new beginnings, new directions." "Figures," Thalassa mumbled. "My new life as whore to a brutal warlord." The words carved deep into her soul, left her weak and sick. She pushed away from the table and returned to the bed, where she sagged, giving over to the tears she had not let herself cry for so many days. *** Terran laid the floral bouquet upon the grave, and sat back on his heels. The setting sun warmed the flowers, letting loose their sweet scent. Sunribbons, Elise's favorite. They were to be the flower of decoration used at the wedding. The thought brought a sad smile to Terran's lips. He had wanted to marry in the winter, when the snow lay deep, crisp and white about the lands. Elise had insisted on waiting until spring, when Sunribbons were in full bloom. Terran had relented, though he had ached to hold this woman as his wife. He never got the chance. An accident, he'd been told. A case of bad timing and ill luck. He doubted it. Elise had been killed by a stray arrow while out riding, an arrow supposedly intended for a stag that had bounded across her path. The hunting party had been sent out by Unwin, to procure meat for a banquet to announce the arrival of yet another of his bastard children. How many did that make? Five? Six? Terran had 9

lost count. Not that it mattered. It took only one, one strong boy, to be named as heir to the throne. This latest birth, a boy now eight months old, seemed to be the chosen. He was a stocky lad, gregarious and outgoing even at his tender age. His dark eyes held a glint of mischief, and despite his resolve to distance himself from his brother's brood, Terran found the boy quite endearing. He hoped that Unwin would do the moral thing and marry the lad's mother. A cool breeze ruffled Terran's dark locks, and he turned his face east. Unexpected memories surfaced with a rush. The vision of a woman, as pale complexioned as he was dark, rose to haunt him. Guilt tore him away from Elise's grave, and he returned to his horse. Why had he suddenly thought of her? It had been months since he had seen her. He shook his head, but could not dislodge the tormented thoughts. He had ridden out that night of Elise's funeral, shattered in heart and spirit. Days of endless wandering had taken him to a small village near the border of Zal. He had sought comfort in bottles of wine, not even good wine at that. Drunk, and exhausted from lack of sleep, he had roamed the streets of the village, searching for something to dull his grief. He had found it in the pale woman. Terran stumbled into the dark alley, tears nearly blinding him. He wanted only to be gone from this place, to continue his search for peace. But there was no outlet on this road; it ended at a cold, stone wall. It seemed fitting that he should find himself in the dark, with no path forward. He turned, a soft sob escaping him, and nearly tripped over a young woman huddled in the corner. She looked up at him, enveloped in a stray beam of moonlight. He could see the terror in her pale eyes, made worse by the weapon hung at his side. He stepped back, holding his hands before him. "Do not fear me, M'Lady," he said softly. "I will bring you no harm." "M'Lady?" she whispered, then actually laughed. It was a laughter filled with despair and resignation. "I am no lady, M'Lord." He studied her a moment, taking in the pale skin, the white-blonde hair. "You are Zal. You are far from home." "Not far enough, it would seem," she replied quietly. "May I sit?" She seemed startled that he would ask, and nodded. He settled down near her, wondering what had brought her to this place, to this dark alley. She appraised him thoughtfully. "What brings a man of your wealth to a place such as this?" she finally asked. Terran glanced down at his clothing. "Escape," he whispered. "Aye," she replied her voice as soft. "Escape I know much of." She brought her gaze to meet his. "But it is only a respite from reality, is it not? We must both return." "And what do you return to, M'Lady?" She paused, then sighed. "To a waiting husband, to a life planned for me, no matter the plans I may have dreamed for myself." "I know well of destiny," Terran said, his heart heavy. He forced a smile to his face. "Perhaps I can accompany you back home. For a time, let us write our own future." 10

She smiled at him. "I would like that, M'Lord." Three days he had spent with the woman, as he accompanied her back toward her village. They talked, laughed, teased and flirted with each other. There was no denying the attraction, though both tried to suppress it. But on that last night, before he would bid her goodbye, they fell into each other's arms. Terran remembered it all too well. It tormented him with a strange mixture of joy and guilt. She was gone when he woke the next morning, and he could not bring himself to go into her village and witness her marriage to another. Brokenhearted yet again, he had made his way home to resume the life he knew he must. So, why now was she in his thoughts again? He had tried to purge the memories, tried to erase her image from his mind, her name from his soul. Thalassa. It was a beautiful name, full of the sea and the wind. Thalassa. It sang to him, and he whispered it aloud, letting his tongue caress the word, as his hands had caressed her body. He wondered how she was, if she had reconciled herself to her husband, her life. She would probably be with child by now. He smiled, trying to picture a protruding belly on such a small stature. She would be beautiful.

With another shake of his head, he swung into the saddle and turned his horse's head east. He would ride out just a bit, just to the top of the hills where he could look out over the lands, and imagine the sea in the distance.

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CHAPTER 3 Lord Adrick sent for Thalassa the next morning. Ilsa accompanied her as far as the front gates of the modest Keep. There she left Thalassa, with nothing more than a brief squeeze of the hand. Thalassa wiped sweaty palms against the cotton shift she now wore, and walked slowly through the gates. The two guards stationed in the alcove tossed her a cursory glance, and went back to their business, which didn't appear to be much more than a game of Sticks. Thalassa drew a deep breath, and stepped into the inner courtyard of the Keep. Mid-morning sun shone down on a smooth grass lawn, coaxed fragrance from the roses lining the meandering path, and sparkled on the water tinkling quietly from several fountains. Thalassa felt as if she had entered a dream. She glanced back over her shoulder at the drab, brown buildings beyond the Keep's gates. Such was life, she mused. One either had it all, or one had nothing. "Welcome." The voice brought Thalassa around with a gasp. Lord Adrick stood on the path before her. He was dressed in fine, blue silks that glowed in the sunshine. His dark hair had been smoothed back and tied with a simple bit of leather. Thalassa studied him thoughtfully, noticing the thin lips, the narrowed eyes, the high, jutting cheekbones. He was Asurian, that was certain. The name left the taste of bile at the back of her throat. "Is this how you greet your lord?" Adrick asked, his voice cold and aloof. "And just how should I greet you?" Thalassa retorted, unable to keep the contempt from her words. Anger flitted across Adrick's face. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist in a painful hold. He bent her arm back toward her chest, applying pressure, until her knees buckled. "How?" he asked. "On your knees. Subserviant. Slave to master." Thalassa refused to look up at him, keeping her gaze fixed on the crushed stone she now knelt on, that drew blood from her knees. The action seemed to anger Adrick further. He hunkered down before her, then reached back to take a handful of her hair. He pulled, forcing her face to tilt up towards his, until their gazes met. For a long moment, he studied her, his eyes cold and angry. Then, without warning, he brought his lips to meet hers in a crushing kiss. Startled, Thalassa tried to pull away. The movement caught Adrick off guard and off balance. He toppled toward her, and she fell backward onto the rocks, his body atop hers. His weight against her pregnant belly drove the air from her lungs, and she pushed against him with both hands. Infuriated, he grasped her wrists and pressed them against the ground, still not moving his position from atop her. "If you wish to kill the child," Thalassa managed, "there are easier ways." "Are there? Tell me of them, then." The words drove panic and hurt into Thalassa's soul, but she tried to keep it from showing in her eyes. "You could kill me," she said tightly. "I could," he agreed, then released one of her wrists to trace his finger along her cheek and jaw. "But where is the fun in that for me?" "Then that's what I am to be to you?" Thalassa asked, trying to pull in a breath. 12

"A plaything?" "What did you expect? You're nothing but a sea-woman. Good for gutting fish and carnal pleasure." He chuckled and nipped lightly at her neck. "Not necessarily in that order, of course." Thalassa tried to shift to a different position, tried to get some air back into her impoverished lungs, but could not. She could feel the baby moving in its own effort to escape the crushing weight of the man. "Adrick? Will you bed her here, in the gardens?" Thalassa gasped at the deep voice that posed the question. She moved her head to peer over Adrick's shoulder. A tall, heavily-muscled man stood in the path, hands on hips. He was a copy of Adrick, though much more solidly built. His dark gaze appraised her with first question, then appreciation, as Adrick rolled off her. She took in great, gasping breaths of air, her head spinning. Adrick grinned up at his older brother. "Now that would be a thought, Rhaeven," he said. "I do so love an audience." "You're depraved, Adrick," Rhaeven retorted with a grimace of disgust. He extended his hand to Thalassa. "Stand. Your position is very unbecoming in your condition." Thalassa took his hand warily, and allowed him to help her to her feet. Adrick frowned, though he made no move to stand. "I suppose you'll be wanting first bedding rights with her," he said sullenly. "She is in no position to give rights to anyone at the moment," Rhaeven replied, his gaze locked on Thalassa's face. "The child is due when?" "In three months time," she lied. Surprise flitted through Rhaeven's dark eyes. "Three months time?" he repeated. "It will be a large child." Thalassa remained quiet, knowing he had read through her deceit. She wondered if she would pay for the lie later. Rhaeven glanced at his brother. "Do get up," he said. "You're in that position enough as it is, with all of your drink." He tucked Thalassa's arm under his, and pulled her alongside him. "I think we need to get better acquainted." Thalassa looked back at Adrick as he stood. His rugged face registered anger, but Thalassa wasn't sure if it was aimed at her or at Rhaeven. Trembling, she returned her attention to the path. Rhaeven led her inside the hall, where it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the cool dimness. When they did, she caught her breath. True splendor surrounded her, from the exquisitely upholstered furniture, to the thick furskin rugs laid before a blazing hearth. The firelight danced off well-polished wooden floors, brass candle sconces and a pair of crossed blades above the mantle. The sweet smell of incense scented the air, and Thalassa drew a deep, calming breath. She felt as if she had entered yet another dream. Life beyond the Keep walls was surely no such dream. More of a nightmare. The burn on her shoulder and cheek still smarted, sending a thin sheen of sweat to cover her face and neck. Having her back crushed into the gravel on the path hadn't helped the pain, and now her knees stung, as well. She turned as Rhaeven pulled a bell-cord to summon a servant. "You shall stay the night here," he told Thalassa. "As my guest." 13

"Your guest?" Thalassa could not keep the sarcasm from her tone. "And whose bed shall I have?" "For now," Rhaeven answered, his tone so cold it sent shivers of trepidation through her, "your own." Thalassa could not keep the tremble from her limbs. If belonging to Adrick would destroy her heart, she wondered what belonging to Rhaeven would do to her soul. *** Terran adjusted the saddle, tightening the cinch another notch. His groomsman stood nearby, fiddling aimlessly with the leads. Terran was always amused by the reaction of palace staff when he insisted on doing something for himself. It was as if they thought he was incapable, that they would only have to do the task over again themselves to assure that it was done right. Surely, the groomsman was thinking that the saddle would slide and dump the Crown Prince in the dirt. And whose hide would be punished were that to happen? Terran hid his smile, and swung into the saddle. "I won't be gone but a few days, Bockman. Be sure to pay extra attention to the mare. She is due to foal anytime. I don't have to remind you of her lineage, and the importance of both surviving the birth." "No, Your Highness," the groomsman replied. "She will be taken care of properly, as if it were me own child I'd be birthing." Terran chuckled. "If you were to birth a child, Bockman, that would be special indeed." He laughed harder at the groomsman's flush, and guided his steed from the stables into the morning sunshine. His escorts were already mounted and waiting, ready to follow at a respectable distance to allow the prince a semblance of privacy, yet still able to ride to his rescue at a moment's notice. He gave the palace one last look, then turned toward the gatehouse. The guards snapped to attention, their eyes averted in subservience. It grated on Terran's nerves, despite the fact that he had been raised in such an atmosphere. With no more than a nod of acknowledgement, he urged his horse forward to escape the confines of his royal life. Yet, he still had to traverse the town that sprawled about the palace, still had to endure the bows and curtsies, the flowers tossed in his path, the coppers that fell from fingers that could ill afford to lose them. Why his people insisted on presenting him with money, he could never fathom. It should be just the opposite. He should be sharing his wealth with them. If he had his way, he would dole out fair amounts to all of the peasants that called this Kingdom home. His father, however, was of another mind. With an inner sigh, he motioned to one of his men to collect the offered coins. Later, he would use them to provide food to those who needed it. Once free of the confines of the village, he urged his horse into a canter, eager to be away. The wind blew lightly across the meadows bringing the scent of Sunribbons with it. It stirred Terran's heart, but it wasn't to Elise that his thoughts flew. It was to Thalassa. He shook his head, scowling. Why was she continuing to plague his thoughts? He drove his horse faster, as if he could escape the thoughts through sheer speed. He rounded a bend in the path, then gasped when his horse suddenly shied, 14

near throwing him from the saddle. He reined up sharply, his surprise turning to annoyance when he saw the cause of his horse's alarm. Unwin sat astride his stallion directly in Terran's path, a smug smile on his face. He crossed his hands over the saddle pommel and regarded Terran, even as Terran's escorts thundered up, swords already drawn. They hurriedly re-sheathed their weapons, averting their gazes from Unwin. He regarded them with open hostility and contempt. "So, big brother, where are you off to in such a hurry?" he asked. "A matter of business, Unwin," Terran returned. "What are you doing out here? Where are your escorts?" Unwin chuckled. "I have none. Apparently father doesn't think it necessary to safeguard someone who is not crucial to the throne. Besides, with such poor performance as your escorts just exhibited, why would I need them?" Terran drew a slow breath. "You have escorts assigned, Unwin. Where are they?" Unwin shrugged, changing the subject. He nodded his head toward the leather pouch that hung at Terran's waist. "So, what's that?" "A document for the Lord Chancellor of Galtrin. Father thought it required my touch to deliver." Unwin scowled. "You mean your title, Crown Prince," he said, not hiding his jealous tone. Terran shrugged. "Think what you will, Unwin, but leave me pass." Unwin sidestepped his horse out of the path, his face set in a hard frown. "Enjoy your title now, Terran, because it shall soon be mine." He jerked his horse's head about and put his heels to its side. The stallion bolted. Terran watched his brother ride away. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Unwin's escorts attempting to follow the hotheaded young prince. Father was right. The kingdom would be in dire straits if Unwin were to assume rule. Terran began to resign himself to a marriage of convenience to Princess Sylvia. She was most likely quite charming and quite beautiful. Most Asurians were, with their dark coloring. Still, Terran's eye had always been turned by just the opposite. Those of the fair skin and pale eyes, those of Zal, intrigued him. They were said by many to be witches, born to the craft and destined to use it. Terran had yet to see any evidence of such. He did know one thing—they were dying. Of some sickness peculiar only to their race. The thought brought a frown to his face, as once more his thoughts went to Thalassa. He wondered if she was sick, if she had already died from the sickness. The mere idea sent a chill through him. Again, he chastised himself for his wayward thoughts, then abruptly turned to his escorts. As one, they bowed their heads, and their captain came forward. "Your Highness," he said. "Prince Unwin is right. We were caught off-guard. Even though the road we now travel is your father's, we should have been more attentive. I take full responsibility, and will –" "Bron," Terran interrupted. "I need you to do a favor for me." "Your Highness?" The man frowned in question. Terran untied the leather pouch holding the document. He held it out to Bron. "I want you and your men to take this to Galtrin. Deliver it to the Lord Chancellor, then take a few days liberty." "But Your Highness," Bron protested, a stricken look on his face, "that would 15

leave you without escorts. I cannot do that." "Yes, you can. You will." Terran kept his voice low but firm. He pressed the leather pouch into the man's hand. "I just need a few days of solitude, Bron. I will be fine. I won't put myself into any danger. I promise you that." Bron hesitated, fear in his eyes. Terran sighed and climbed from his horse. Immediately, the guards followed, uneasy with being elevated above their Crown Prince. Terran took some paper from his satchel, then a quill and a pot of ink. He scratched out a quick note absolving the guards of any wrongdoing or blame should anything untoward happen to him. In the absence of wax, he coated his signet ring with ink, and pressed it on the parchment. When the ink was dry, he rolled the document and gave it to Bron. "Now, you're set," he told the guard. Bron looked at the parchment, then back up at Terran. "Your Highness, I appreciate this act of goodwill, but I fear more for you than for myself. The thought of you riding off alone does not sit well with me." Terran chuckled. "You're a mother hen, Bron. Be off with you, all of you. I will meet you again here, at this point, in ten days time. If I am not here, you have my permission to come searching for me." "And where do you ride, Your Highness?"

Terran hesitated, again conscious of the beating of drums far off in the distance. "To Zal, Bron, to check on an old friend." He remounted his steed, waved one hand at the guards, and put his heels to the stallion's sides.

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CHAPTER 4 Thalassa perched on the edge of the large bed, one hand worrying the silken bed curtains, the other resting on her belly. The baby was active, uneasy, as was she. Rhaeven had installed her in this room many hours earlier, then left her alone to her own thoughts. Though opulence surrounded her, Thalassa could not enjoy it. She could not help but think that this bed she sat on would soon become nothing more than her cage. With a trembling sigh, she rose and went toward the long, narrow, mullioned window on one wall. It looked out on the stables and the paddock. Horses were being exercised, fitted with new shoes and brushed out. Men and young boys flitted about, each attentive to his own job, while dodging the whips of the guards who oversaw their work. Thalassa was about to turn aside, when she caught sight of the young boy who had been the first one branded. He staggered under the load of two full wooden water buckets held across his bare back by a long stick. Even from her distance, Thalassa saw that the stick was riding against the brand on the boy's shoulder. Blood trickled down his back, mixing with the sweat. As she watched, he stumbled and fell to one knee. The buckets slid from his thin shoulders, landing in the dirt. Water sloshed out, drenching the feet of the nearest guard. He staggered backward in surprise, then roared out an oath, and hauled the boy up by one thin arm. Thalassa saw the boy's mouth moving, most likely in a vain attempt to appease the guard's wrath. His reward was a sharp blow across the face that left him lying in the dirt and mud. Before he had a chance to move, the guard's whip snaked out, leaving a long, red welt along his back. Thalassa cried out in horror, and quickly shielded the boy from pain, even as the guard struck again and again. Her gaze darted about the courtyard, seeking anyone who would stop the beating. But no one seemed to care; they ignored it, indeed avoided it. Rage boiled through Thalassa at the injustice, and in one swift burst of magic, she sent the guard hurtling backward to slam against the stable wall. He shuddered once, then slid down the wooden wall, unconscious. The boy lifted his head in confusion. He looked at the guard, then around the paddock. Finally, he brought his gaze up, and it met hers. She frowned in puzzlement. How could he have known to look here, in the Keep? More guards arrived on the scene. Several went to help their comrade, while others hauled the boy to his feet. Adrick strode into the paddock. He exchanged several words with the guards, then motioned both guards and boy away. Slowly, very slowly, he turned and looked directly up at her. She shrank back, letting the gauzy curtain fall back into place. Her heart raced wildly. He knew. Adrick knew that it had been her magic that had stopped the guard. She stumbled back toward the bed and collapsed onto it, tears pricking at her eyes. She supposed she would be punished. Her hand lifted toward the pentagram scar, then fell back into her lap. Was this all there was to be of her life? More pain, more fear? Would it never end for her? And what of her child? For what sort of life was it destined? She had to escape. Somehow, she had to find a way to freedom. Or die trying. Her hand went to her throat, her thoughts on the silver whistle that should hang there. For eighteen years she had worn that whistle, since she was but two years 17

old. It had been a gift from her mother, with the instructions to keep it with her always. She had learned of the whistle's function on her eighteenth birthday. Her mother had died the next day. Thalassa closed her eyes, forcing back her tears. For a long time she had hated her mother, hated the woman for allowing her to be abused by her own father. Now, she saw the hopelessness of her mother's life in Zal. Now, she could love her mother for her one last act of defiance that had ultimately claimed her life. "Leave her alone!" Thalassa struggled against her father's grip, her mother's shrill cry echoing in her ears. "She's eighteen!" her father snapped. "Apparently, she's old enough to learn of men. I seen her with Tom, kissing on him. But, by dam, I'll be the first to bed her before she starts whoring herself to the village." "She's your daughter! Leave her be!" She pulled at his arm. He swung out his free hand, sending his wife sprawling on the floor, then returned his attention to Thalassa. In terror, she clawed at her father's hand, but he was too strong for her. He picked her up and threw her onto the lone bed, then came atop her, his impatient hands tearing at her clothing. His breath was fetid, full of brew, his hands course and brutal. Her screams mixed with her mother's, and suddenly he stiffened with a gasp. He rolled away, both hands grabbing at the small of his back. Thalassa's mother struck again, this time burying the already bloodied knife deep in the man's neck. Thalassa screamed as blood spattered outward, then watched in shock as her mother stabbed at the man again and again and again. She had been executed the next day, put to death by the male elders of the village for murder. Nothing was said as to the reason for her actions. She was convicted, condemned and killed in a matter of hours, leaving Thalassa alone with her shock and grief, and pledged in marriage to her father's only brother. He had not waited long to announce his intent to marry. And Thalassa had run. She rose from the bed and went toward the dresser. An ornately-carved mirror hung on the wall, and Thalassa studied her image. She was gaunt, weary-eyed and soiled. It had taken weeks of hard walking to get to this place. During that time no one had touched her. She knew she had the baby to thank for that. Many of the other women, some as young as twelve, were taken off into the darkness for the soldier's pleasures. Even now, in her mind, Thalassa could hear the heavy breathing, grunts, and cries of pain that filled the night air. How many young girls had died from such brutality, Thalassa would never know. Though she had tried desperately to shield them from their agony, there were too many, and she was too exhausted. Guilt still tore at her for that. She shook the unpleasant thoughts aside, and concentrated on the whistle, willing its image into her mind, her soul. She sighed, then gasped, reaching for the pocket on her thin shift. She had put it there. She remembered now. She had tried to hide it from the soldiers, sure they would take it and sell it. But a search turned up nothing, but a small hole in the cloth. The whistle must have fallen out. It was gone. Just as her life was now gone. 18

She looked again into the mirror. The burn on her left cheek was an ugly, red festering thing, despite the salve that Ilsa had put on it. Thalassa raised her hand and touched lightly at the pentagram mark, then closed her eyes and reached far into her soul to draw forth that magic which she could. Familiar warmth spread from her fingers to her cheek, then crawled under her skin, healing the burn. It was difficult and left her trembling and weak, but at last, she withdrew her hand and opened her eyes. The swelling and redness were gone. In its place was a perfectly etched scar of the pentagram. Thalassa sighed. She had hoped her magic could have removed the scar as well, though why she cared, she didn't know. Her gaze traveled to the red streak on her forearm. How long would it take for the disease to reach her heart, to still its beating, to allow her to escape to the land of the dead? It was the one thing her magic could not touch, could not heal. It had killed many of her countrymen, probably more than even the Asurians had killed over time. Footfalls outside her door brought her attention around. She waited with pounding heart, then let out a small gasp of relief as Ilsa slipped inside the room. The old woman held a tin bowl filled with the burn salve. She approached Thalassa, a gap toothed smile on her lips. "Eh, girlie," she greeted. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise when she saw Thalassa's cheek. "I see ya been magicking again." She chuckled. "And not just on your own flesh. Can't say I approve, can't say I don't. Turn about." Thalassa did as the woman instructed, wincing as Ilsa applied the salve to the burn on her shoulder. So, the old woman knew about the boy. Thalassa wondered just how much else she knew. "What's to become of me, Ilsa?" she murmured. "It seems Lord Rhaeven 'as takin' a likin' to ya," Ilsa replied. "Yes, it seems so. Is that good or bad?" "Dunno. Could be both. Guess that depends on ya." "On me? Oh, you mean if I succumb to his demands and do as he asks, then I will be better off?" Ilsa turned her around to face her. "That'd be my suggestion, girlie," she said, though her eyes spoke a different line. She pressed a kerchief into Thalassa's hand, then set the bowl of salve on the dresser. "Use that several times a day. It'll 'eal the brand up quick enough." "That boy," Thalassa whispered, "the one who spilled the water, is he all right? Was he punished further?" Ilsa eyed her thoughtfully, as if weighing her answer. "Ya speak of Eri. Aye, he's all right, for now. But as for the punishment, I doubt that three strikes with the whip will appease Master Adrick." Thalassa gasped. "But the boy is so weak already! He'll not stand up to another beating, especially if I can't…" She broke off, unwilling to say more about using her magic. Ilsa shrugged. "Your will is very strong, girlie. Use it again, but don't delay long. The boy could die." So saying, she pulled the door open, and left. Thalassa stared after her in dismay. How could she get to Eri before he was beaten? And what could she do, even if she could get to him? And what of all of the other slaves here? What of their suffering? How could she protect them all? 19

She quietly closed the door, then sagged onto a chair in despair. Her grip on the kerchief tightened, and she realized that something hard was hidden within the folds of cloth. Puzzled, she unwrapped it. A startled gasp escaped her. The whistle! She stared at it in disbelief. How had Ilsa gotten it? And why had she returned it? Too many things just didn't make sense. What had the old woman meant by my will is strong? And that I should use it again? Thalassa frowned, closing her fist about the whistle. Her eyes narrowed in thought, and she pursed her lips as an idea formed. "My will is strong," she repeated softly. "Perhaps I willed Ilsa to bring me the whistle. If I can do that, then maybe…" She brought up an image of Eri in her mind, of his frightened and bruised face, of his eyes thanking her for her help. He would be brought to her…now…as her will commanded. He would be assigned as her choreboy, her personal servant as courtesan to Lord Rhaeven. She concentrated with all of her might on the suggestions, not clearly sure of just where she was directing her energy. She knew only that she was his salvation. *** It took Terran four days to reach the coastal province of Zal. Even before he entered, he sensed that all was not well. He met no fisherfolk on the road, no merchants returning with their monthly store of dried fish and seafood. The absence of such usual travel put a wariness into the prince, and he kept his longbladed sword close, wishing now that he had not released all of his escorts. As he neared the last rise of land before the long stretch of white beaches, he caught the scent of smoke, acrid and old. Slowly, he guided his mount to the top of the cliff, where he could look out upon the sparkling Iberica Sea. The scene before him caught him by surprise. As far as the eye could see, blackened villages filled the shoreline, patches of death upon the pristine white sands. From his vantage point, he could clearly see bodies strewn about, left to the ravages of the tides and sea birds. The entire sight both sickened and concerned him. With a deep breath, he turned his steed and found a path to the beach below. Once upon the sands, he proceeded with caution, though the silence here was the silence of death. He moved slowly, warily, listening for any sounds of life. But there were none. It didn't take him long to find evidence of the raiders. A dagger, bearing the crest of Asuria, lay forgotten in the sands. Terran dismounted and carefully retrieved it. This would be the evidence that he needed; the evidence that would no doubt plunge his father's kingdom into war. How long had the King waited for just such an atrocity as this to occur? A reason for him to lay waste to Asuria, the country he blamed for his youngest son's death? True, he held no love for Zal either, but his hatred for Asuria was renowned. Terran straightened, his gaze sweeping over the destruction sprawled before him. The sea-wind gusted, sending ashes swirling around his ankles. Was this her village? Was she lying in the blackened remains somewhere? Had she suffered to the barbarians touch before they had killed her? The thoughts drove a hot despair through Terran's heart, and his grip tightened about the dagger's hilt. Could she have survived somehow? He looked again at the destruction surrounding him. The only way she could have survived was if she had been taken captive. He returned to his horse, but just as he set foot in the stirrup, a low whimper 20

caught his ear. He whirled, his own sword flashing to the ready, his gaze sweeping the land. No movement showed, and Terran shook his head. Perhaps it had been his imagination. Once more, he turned to his horse, and again was stopped by sound. Only this time it was the pounding of drums, the same pounding he had heard at the castle. It was faint, too faint to be coming from nearby. Puzzled, he gathered up his horse's reins, and followed the sound down the beach. Near the edge of the village, the huts were not so badly destroyed, the fires apparently having been squelched before reaching that far. And here the pounding grew stronger and stronger as he approached the blackened huts. Then abruptly the drums stopped, replaced by another whimper that drifted on the brisk sea air. Terran followed it warily to a small hut, crowding the cliff, and nestled under a tangle of madrona tree roots. He paused at the open doorway, bringing his sword up. Something, or someone, scurried across the floor, as if seeking a place to hide, though there was precious little furniture in the room. Terran's elfin eyes adjusted quickly enough for him to see a small figure dart into a corner. He hesitated only a moment before speaking softly. "I won't harm you. Will you come out?" There was no answer, merely a muffled sob. Terran replaced his sword, though he maintained his grip on the Asurian dagger. "Are you alone here?" he asked. Again, there was no answer. Terran sighed and backed slowly out the doorway. "Then I shall leave you as you were," he said. "No!" The cry was a child's, full of terror and despair. A quick movement followed, and Terran was nearly knocked over as the small figure plowed into him. "Here, now," he said gently. "Calm down. If you wish me to stay, I shall." He looked down at the dirty hair, the thin arms that wrapped about his leg, the torn and bloodied clothing. "My name is Terran. What are you called by?" The child answered, the feminine voice muffled by Terran's breeches. "Vaoni." "That's a beautiful name. Will you look at me, Vaoni?" She shook her head, keeping her face hidden. "You're an elf. To look into your eyes will bring me blindness." Terran started at the words. "Who told you that?" "Baossi." "And who is Baossi?" "The village seer. He knows everything." Terran chuckled lightly. "Perhaps not everything. You may look upon me, Vaoni. I assure you, you will not go blind." He put one slender finger beneath her small chin, and tipped her head back, then gasped. Her coloring—the white skin, the pale blue eyes, the white blond curls—they were those of Thalassa. Pain stabbed his heart, and his voice shook when he spoke. "There, you see. You did not go blind. You must be hungry and thirsty. I have food and water. Come." He led her outside to his horse. "Coo!" she cried, her small face brightening. "What a beautiful beast! Is he yours?" "Aye, he is. His name is Boaz. Do you know what that means?" Terran asked as he removed his meal pack. "No," Vaoni answered, stroking the horse's flank. 21

"It means swift and strong. Here, drink." He handed her the waterskin. She took it clumsily, nearly dropping it into the sand. Terran frowned and held it for her, tipping it against her small, parched lips. She drank noisily, letting the water drip down her chin. "What's wrong with your arm?" Terran asked as he recapped the waterskin. Vaoni grimaced. "It got hurt. See." She pulled the tattered remains of her blouse aside. Terran gasped in horror. An old dagger wound, red and swollen, clearly infected, ran from her elbow to her wrist. Terran hunkered down before her, holding her dirty hand in his. "That's a bad cut, Vaoni. I should clean and bandage it." "No, that will hurt," she protested. "But it will hurt more if it is not treated properly. I suppose it hurts even now?" She frowned in puzzlement, looking at the wound. Then with a heavy sigh, she nodded. Terran smiled reassuringly, reached out to ruffle her dirty hair, thought better of it, and straightened. "Is there a well nearby? A place where you get fresh water?" "A stream, up there." She gestured to the cliff above her hut. "Then let's go there and get you cleaned up. Then we'll have dinner, and perhaps you can answer a few of my questions. I understand that the children of Zal are very smart." "Really?" Vaoni sounded surprised but pleased. "Can I ride Boaz?" "Certainly." Terran lifted her astride, conscious of how little she weighed, how little there was hidden beneath the rags. "Are there any others here?" Vaoni shook her head. "I looked. There is no one. Just me." Terran sighed, then took up Boaz's reins, and led the horse back up the steep slope to the cliff. He followed Vaoni's directions, and soon they reached the stream. It wasn't much, but it ran cold and clear. Terran lifted Vaoni down, and sat her beside the water, then took up his pack and joined her. "First, I want you to take this herb," he said, holding out a small bit of willow root. "It will help with the pain,and make you sleepy. Next, I'll get a fire going, then we'll get your face and hair washed." "Why?" she asked, her small face twisted in confusion. Terran chuckled. "Because I would like to see the beautiful little girl beneath all of that dirt." She shrugged as if she thought the whole idea was useless, but took the willow, chewing on it thoughtfully as Terran kindled a small fire. When he was satisfied that it would stay lit, he took out a cloth, wet it, and scrubbed gently at Vaoni's face. Every bit of dirt and grime he removed revealed more of the Zal beauty she was to become. A beauty like Thalassa. He shook himself, and motioned her to dip her dirty curls into the water. Instead, she stripped nude and waded into the water, seemingly mindless of the chill. Moments later, she was scrubbed clean. Terran handed her a cloth. She dried briskly, then accepted one of Terran's clean tunics. He encouraged her to sit near the warmth of the fire. Her eyelids were already drooping sleepily as he turned his attention to her arm. It was a nasty, jagged cut. He had noticed she kept it from the water while she washed, and now he grimaced 22

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This may hurt, despite the willow." He kept a close watch on her face as he began to clean away the filth. Though she whimpered several times, she didn't try to pull away, and Terran was able to tend to the wound quickly and efficiently. When he was done, he applied a salve and wrapped her arm securely in clean bandages. Vaoni sighed with relief. "Thank you," she murmured. "You're quite welcome, Vaoni." He smiled at her, fetched a blanket from his saddle roll, and draped it about her tiny shoulders. She nestled against him, her blond curls just inches below his chin. He protectively put one arm about her, and pulled her close to his warmth. "Do you feel like talking a bit?" "The Asurians," she mumbled, "it was them. I saw them. They took my mama and my sister, then stabbed me and papa. Papa's blood was all over me. They thought we were dead. I let them believe that. I lay very still, just like papa told me to do. Then they went away." Her voice broke as she continued. "Then so did papa. But I was brave. Papa told me to be brave, that someone would come for me. And you did, you came." Terran swallowed hard, fighting back his tears. "How old are you, Vaoni?" "Eight." Too old to be Thalassa's child, but perhaps her sister. It was a long shot, but Terran had to know. "What is your sister's name?" "Cilalle. Why? Can you find her? Can you find my mama?" Terran paused before answering. "I'll do my best, Vaoni, I'll do my best." He gave her a gentle hug, then asked the question that refused to be still. "Do you know anyone named Thalassa?" Vaoni was silent for a moment, and Terran thought she'd fallen asleep, then felt her nod. "Thalassa was married to Doloth. He was a mean man. She hated him. He hurt her a lot, even when she started carrying his child." The words sent Terran reeling. Despair coursed through him, and it took some doing to control his voice. "Do you know what happened to them? To Thalassa and Doloth?" "Doloth is dead. I went to their hut after the soldiers left. I found him. But I didn't find Thalassa. Do you know where she is?" "No," Terran answered quietly. "No, I don't, but I'm going to find out." Vaoni looked up at him through clear blue eyes of innocence. "You like her, don't you?" Terran started, feeling a flush creep over his cheeks. "I… I know her…that's all. Go to sleep, Vaoni, we leave first thing in the morning." Vaoni smiled and lay down beside him, with her head resting on his leg. She closed her eyes. "Yes, you do. You like her," she whispered and drifted to sleep.

Terran stared down at her, and it was a long while before he slept, as well.

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CHAPTER 5 "Lower and a little to the left." Rhaeven's voice was muffled by his bite of food. "And put some muscle into it." Thalassa shifted her hands to the indicated muscle on the warlord's back, though she doubted how much strength she could put into her massage. She had been rubbing at his shoulders and neck for almost an hour, while he noisily consumed huge platefuls of roasted meat, potatoes, and carrots. The smell of fresh, hot bread filled the room, causing Thalassa's mouth to water. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, making her queasy and light-headed. She'd had nothing since breakfast, and then it was only a small bowl of watery porridge and some weak tea. Adrick sat at the far end of the wooden table, his gaze on her, his dark eyes narrowed to mere slits. He stabbed randomly at his food, his anger evident. Rhaeven moaned as if in ecstasy, and leaned into Thalassa's hands. "Excellent," he mumbled. "I can only anticipate what your hands shall be able to do to me once the child is born." Thalassa flushed, her gaze darting to Adrick. She knew Rhaeven's words were meant only as yet another barb at the younger man. It seemed Rhaeven was taking great delight in parading her before Adrick, in making his words and actions highly suggestive and erotic. Adrick's face was already red with anger. "M'Lord?" A male servant entered the dining hall, and bowed. "Speak," Rhaeven commanded, before shoving another chunk of bread into his mouth. "The healer, Ilsa, has the monthly report on the slaves." "Very well, send her in." "Yes, M'Lord." The servant bowed and backed out of the room. A moment later, Ilsa entered, her gaze flicking to Thalassa before settling on Rhaeven. She bowed low to first Rhaeven, then Adrick, an action that seemed to send renewed anger through the younger man. "M'Lord Rhaeven," Ilsa began, "I have examined the new slaves. All but two are fit for services." "Which two?" Rhaeven asked, taking a long pull from his wine goblet. "One woman, one boy." "That is telling me nothing," Rhaeven snapped. "Apologies, M'Lord. The woman is with child, just forming. One of your soldiers is the father." "What!" Rhaeven roared. His gaze flew to Adrick. "You were to give your men orders, Adrick. No one would bed the women until I saw them. Now I'm hearing that one of the prisoners is with child. Explain!" "No explanation necessary, brother," Adrick said coolly. "It was a long march home. The men got restless." "Find the soldier responsible," Rhaeven ordered. "I will deal with him personally." He looked back at Ilsa. "Give the woman a salt water wash." Thalassa couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her. "No! The pain is—" "Silence!" Rhaeven bellowed, then returned his attention to Ilsa. "The boy, what's wrong with him?" "Nothing that a few days of rest won't cure. Seems your men are using him for a 24

whipping boy. It's a shame. He has potential as a horse handler, if only he could regain his strength. I believe he may even have magic." "Magic?" Adrick caught up the conversation. He looked toward Thalassa. "A friend of yours, witch?" "No," Ilsa interjected. "He is Diraenian, not Zal. His name is Eri." Thalassa's eyes went wide in alarm. Despite her best efforts in the last four days to magically summon the boy to her side, she had been unsuccessful. Now, Ilsa was practically condemning him to an early death with her report. Thalassa was sure that Rhaeven would rather have him killed than support him while he healed. She had to do something. She fell to her knees beside the warlord, her gaze beseeching. "Please, M'Lord, he's but a boy, a child. I… I could use someone like him, as a choreboy, to assist me while I am clumsy with child. It would give him time to recover and—" The look on Rhaeven's face stopped her cold. For a long moment he studied her, then abruptly pulled her onto his lap. He placed one hand on her abdomen, the other at the back of her neck. Without taking his gaze from her face, he addressed Ilsa. "Bring this boy into the Keep. Set him up in the alcove outside Thalassa's room. He will serve her until the child is born. After that, he'd best be able to hold his own in the stables." Ilsa gave a gap-toothed grin, and bobbed her head. "As you command, M'Lord." She turned and left the dining hall. "Thank you, M'Lord," Thalassa whispered, astounded at his decision. He stroked her belly gently for a few seconds. "You are mine, and mine alone," he told her. "If you allow this boy to touch you in any way other than to serve you, he will die from torture. Do you understand?" "Yes," she answered at once. "As for me," Rhaeven said quietly. He pulled her close, nuzzling into her cleavage, one hand holding her firmly by the nape of the neck, the other fondling her breasts. Thalassa stiffened in revulsion, but did not try to pull back. Instead, she closed her eyes against the assault, falling into the secret place she had so often visited in her marriage to Doloth. The elf strode into the dark alley, his steps fast and furious. Thalassa pressed herself further into the shadows, sensing the anger in this man, understanding the danger in the sword hung at his hip. He reached the blocked off end of the alley, and for a moment stood as if in disbelief. Thalassa watched as his anger gave way to frustration and despair. He turned away, nearly tripping over her in the darkness. She gasped, staring up at him, cursing the clouds for choosing this moment to part. For a long moment, he said nothing, then he tipped his head. "Apologies, M'Lady. I did not see you there." His voice was quiet, gentle, calm, yet she still feared him. He smiled then, and she caught at her breath, suddenly mesmerized. She heard Adrick's chair scrape across the floor, and opened her eyes. He stood, fists clenched, jaw tight with rage, then whirled, grabbed the nearest female table 25

server, and hauled her after him out of the room. Rhaeven looked up, then roared with laughter. He pushed Thalassa off his lap. "Finish your work on my shoulders," he told her, "while I finish my supper." Thalassa moved around to his back, anger burning a hole in the pit of her stomach. She knew that Adrick would take out his fury on the poor slave girl, a fury that Rhaeven had been nurturing the whole afternoon. She put her own anger into the massage, wanting nothing more than to wrap her hands about Rhaeven's neck, and squeeze the life from him. The thought of him gasping for breath, for life, sent black pleasure through her mind. She would see him dead. She vowed that to herself. She started as Rhaeven suddenly choked on his bite of meat. He leaned forward, coughing violently, his face reddening with every struggling breath. Thalassa backed away from him as other servants rushed to his aid. They pounded him furiously on the back, held out a goblet of water, anything they could think of to stop his suffering. "No," Thalassa whispered, trying desperately to bring her magic under control, the magic that had constricted his throat at her desperate wishing. If he died, she would be at the mercy of Adrick, something she could not bear to think about. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on Rhaeven's throat, saw it relaxing, opening to allow precious air into his lungs. She heard great gasping breaths, and opened her eyes. Rhaeven leaned back in his chair, chest heaving, lips returning to their usual color from blue, tears of stress wetting his dark lashes. The servants hovered over him, loosening his collar, offering him sips from the water goblet. Slowly, he regained control of his breathing, and straightened in his chair. At once his gaze shot to Thalassa, and her knees went weak with terror. He rose from his chair so quickly that it toppled backward, landing with an echoing crash upon the stone floor. "You!" he boomed. Thalassa stared back at him, determination shunting aside her terror. Rhaeven paused only a moment, then backhanded her with such force it sent her sprawling. She lay still, stunned, then tried to push up. Rhaeven snatched her from the floor, then pressed her face against the cushion on his chair, as if trying to suffocate her. "Do you see how it feels, sea-wench?" Rhaeven snarled. "To have to fight for your breath? Do you enjoy such a feeling, wench?" She fought wildly, trying to wrest free of his hold, trying to get air into her burning lungs. But at last her strength fled her, and she fell into darkness. *** She woke to a damp cloth being pressed against her cheeks and forehead. A quick glance showed that she was in her own room, on the large, canopied bed. Eri's young face came into view as he leaned over her. He was bare-chested, dirty and bruised. "M'Lady," he whispered, his voice relieved. For a long moment, neither of them said anything more. Then tears formed in Thalassa's eyes, and spilled over her cheeks. Eri wiped them away with gentle 26

strokes of the cloth, which only brought the tears faster. "M'Lady, please," Eri murmured. "Tell me where you hurt. Let me help you the way you have helped me." Thalassa shook her head, not willing to tell him her thoughts, that she regretted waking up, that she had hoped Rhaeven had been successful in his bid to kill her. She gripped his hand, her words thick and unnatural through her swollen jaw and mouth. "What of you? Are you badly injured? The whip…" "Did its damage," Eri finished, with a grim nod. "As did the rod." "The rod?" She struggled to sit up. He nodded and turned to rewet the cloth. A soft cry of dismay left her lips. All across his young skin were the wide, bloody marks of a rod beating, criss-crossed by the red welts of the whip. "It's nothing," Eri whispered. "I've lived through worse." He wrung out the cloth, and held it out to her. "Place this at the base of your neck. It will help restore your color." Instead, Thalassa gently turned him so that his back was before her. Summoning her magic, she laid her hands upon the carnage done by rod and whip. He stiffened, gasping in pain. It was a hard pull for Thalassa, drawing through her fatigue and despair, but slowly the wounds began to close and heal. The swelling decreased, the redness faded, leaving only a webbing of scars across his back, topped with the brand of Lord Rhaeven's Keep. As she released her magic, she slumped forward. Eri caught her before she toppled to the floor. He gently laid her back upon the bed, then smiled down at her. "You've a wondrous gift, woman of the sea," he murmured. "Again, I am in your debt." "No, no debt is owed. I would do the same for any who are in need." Eri paused. "I heard what you did at the branding." He touched lightly at the pentagram mark on her cheek. "You paid dearly for it." "Aye, but the price is of no matter." She lifted her arm and pulled back the long sleeve of her gown. Eri caught at his breath, his dark eyes going wide. "The Sickness?" "Then you know of it?" "Yes, and I know of its cure." "Cure?" She managed a wry smile, and once more covered the red streak. "There is no cure, Eri, save death. And death I will welcome." "Don't say such things. There is a cure. I have seen it work." Thalassa studied his young face, searching for the deceit behind the words. There was none. "Who then? Who can cure the Sickness?" "One called Sinclair." "And where is this Sinclair?" "He is being held prisoner in a Keep not far from here. I was with him until three weeks ago. He helped me to escape. I was to get word of his situation to his father. Instead, I was caught by Adrick's men." He hung his head. "I have failed my master." "Your master? You were a slave to this man, then?" Eri quickly lifted his head. "Oh, no! Not a slave, a squire. I was to be his knight when I came of age. Now, it seems that shall not come to pass." 27

His words stirred Thalassa to her very soul. She knew something of shattered dreams. She had seen the spark ignite in his eyes as he spoke, and had seen it just as quickly extinguished. She had a sudden desire to see this boy free of his bonds, to be able to pursue the life he envisioned for himself. But how? She was no more than a slave herself. Eri's gentle touch brought her thoughts back. He had placed the cool cloth against her forehead. "M'Lady," he said quietly. "Do I thank you for this reprieve?" He gestured at the room. She shook her head. "It was not I. It was Ilsa, the healer. She spoke on your behalf to Lord Rhaeven." Eri sighed. "Then my thanks go to her. Still, I cannot stay here. I must find a way to leave." "Escape?" she gasped. "I have my orders. I must carry them through." "Orders? Is that all life is to you? One of servitude?" "It's not that, M'Lady. Yes, I serve him, but I seek assistance for him as a friend, not a servant. I'm not sure how much longer he can survive where he is. I must get help." "And this help, what kind is it?" Eri shrugged. "I am not at liberty to say, M'Lady." "Ah, those orders again." Thalassa rose, holding to the bedpost for support. Her brow furrowed in thought. "If I help you to escape this place, will you take me with you?" Eri frowned. "How will you help? With your magic?" "In a way, yes." Eri rose from his perch on the side of her bed. For a moment, he said nothing, as if weighing the risks involved. Finally, he shook his head. "I cannot implicate you in this attempt." Thalassa sighed. "If I could promise help of a powerful nature, would you then allow me to come with you?" Eri's puzzlement grew. "I don't understand." Thalassa knelt and retrieved the whistle from beneath the mattress where she had hidden it. She held it up for Eri to see. "This small whistle commands a great power. Perhaps the greatest on this earth." She looked at the silver whistle, then wrapped her hand about it. "At the least, that's what my mother once told me. Whether 'tis true or not, we shall soon see." *** Terran rubbed his hands together, took a deep breath, then fixed his gaze on the still water at the edge of the stream. It had been some time since he had last called his magic forward. There hadn't been much reason to, and he had never liked the strange fatigue that followed magic use. It was akin to the way one's muscles felt after running for leagues. Still, it couldn't be helped. He had to know the path the Asurian warlords had taken from Zal. Not only for his father, but for himself. He concentrated his thoughts on the water before him. Slowly, an image began to form in the sparkling water. A long column of soldiers 28

and prisoners snaked along the dirt road leading west toward the low pass leading into Asuria. They followed the border between Zal and Diraenia, keeping to the forests, presumably avoiding detection from Diraenia border guards by staying in the shadows of the craggy mountain range. And it had worked. Terran hadn't heard a thing about Asurians being in Zal. Not that it was really his business. Asuria had its own set of rules. One of those seemed to be staying out of Diraenia's way. They viewed the mountains separating the two countries as a sort of shield against the elfin magic. The thought brought a wry smile to Terran's lips. If only his people really did possess the powerful magic everyone else thought they did. True, most of the elves did carry magic of one kind or another, but not on the grand scale that others feared. It was a credit to his father that Diraenia was feared. It was far easier to keep control of the kingdom through that fear, than through continual war. The image in the water slowly faded out as Terran directed his thoughts to the end of the prisoners' journey. A modest Keep, situated in the foothills of the Gand Mountains, swirled into view, and Terran stiffened. He knew this place, and it sent a stab of anger and grief through him. Lord Rhaeven's Keep. Terran struggled to maintain his calm. He despised the man. While not holding a significant place amongst Asurian royalty, Rhaeven and his brother, Adrick, did hold significant lands. And, in Asuria, holding land was akin to holding power. The king of Asuria overlooked most of Rhaeven's mischief, but Terran was sure that this time the Lord had overstepped his boundaries. By invading Zal and taking captives, Rhaeven had placed Asuria in a precarious predicament. Terran frowned, thinking back on the line of war captives he'd seen in the vision. He supposed the dark-haired ones could have been Asurian; Rhaeven would have no qualms about enslaving his own countrymen. But what if they had been Diraenian? That was another thing entirely. If Rhaeven had captured Diraenian citizens, King Liam would not hesitate to declare war on the entire country of Asuria. He certainly had enough grievances to warrant it. As did Terran. Terran had long suspected that Rhaeven had a hand in the disappearance of Prince Sinclair, King Liam's second-born, Terran's brother. Shortly after Sinclair had disappeared, his father had sent, at Terran's urging, a contingent of soldiers to Lord Rhaeven's Keep. It had been searched top to bottom, with no evidence that Sinclair had ever been there. Terran, himself, had taken part in that search. He would have torn apart the very walls if his royal manners had not stalled him. Sinclair was more than a brother to Terran. He was a best friend, a confidante, someone Terran could tell his innermost secrets to. And he was a living memory of their mother, whom Terran had adored. Sinclair was so like her in thought and action. His disappearance had been like losing two beloved family members at once. And, though the King had resigned himself to Sinclair's death, Terran still believed that Sinclair was alive, and that Rhaeven knew of his whereabouts. "Terran?" Vaoni's soft voice broke into his concentration. The image in the water vanished, and Terran sat back with a heavy sigh. The little girl's face wrinkled in worry. "Did I mess up your magic?" she asked quietly. Terran started. "How did you know I was using magic?" She shrugged. "I just did. I sometimes can use it, too. Thalassa was showing me 29

how to use the magic to heal. I don't know very much, though. Elves know a lot, don't they?" Terran smiled, and nodded. "We know some. So, Thalassa has magic, as well? I didn't know that." "Where did you meet Thalassa?" Vaoni asked. "I don't remember her going away. You never came to our village before, did you?" Her pale eyes grew large. "Oh! Did you make yourself invisible? Is that how you came to visit?" Terran couldn't help but laugh. "No, Vaoni, I can't make myself invisible. Not really, though there are times that I can make it appear so." She frowned in puzzlement. "That doesn't make sense." "It's an illusion. If I don't want others to see me, I can make myself unnoticeable." "Can you teach me that?" He reached up to ruffle her curls. "You may already know it. You were the only child left in the village." She regarded him thoughtfully, then smiled. It lit up her small face like sunshine on a dark sky. Terran's heart did a strange flip-flop. He had seen Thalassa smile like that. It was a smile that came from her soul, that touched his soul. He abruptly pulled Vaoni into a tight embrace, his mind whirling to what might have been. "I'm glad that you knew that magic, Vaoni," he murmured. "I'm glad that you weren't taken to Asuria with the others." "So am I," Vaoni admitted, then unexpectedly kissed his cheek. "Because now I get to be with you." Terran flushed, and got slowly to his feet. As expected, his head spun, and his muscles complained bitterly about his use of magic. "We need to move on," he told the child. "Have you ridden on horseback much?" She shook her head and grasped his hand. "No. Why?" "Because we have a fair distance to go. I'm afraid that you're going to be quite sore. Do you know anyone who lives nearby? Someone to whom I could take you, where you would feel safe?" Again she shook her head, her white curls bouncing. "I want to stay with you, Terran." "For now it seems you will, though it will not long be practical where I am going." "You're going to that Keep in the water aren't you?" Terran looked down at her in surprise. "You saw that?" "Yes. Why?" "No reason," Terran replied, though it was highly unusual for another to see a scrye vision. Unless, of course, they had enough intrinsic magic. Perhaps Vaoni did. "Are you hungry?" Terran asked. "Yes, and thirsty." "Then let's take care of breakfast first." He handed her the waterskin, then took the food packet from his pack. It didn't take them long to eat, though Terran encouraged Vaoni to take as much as she wanted. Her thin stature bothered him, and he wondered how often she had gone without meals. When they were done, he made a pad from his blanket for her to sit on, then placed her sidesaddle in front of him. 30

She giggled in excitement, and held fast to the saddle pommel with both hands as Terran guided Boaz back to the trail. For the next several hours, she kept him occupied with questions. Her thirst for knowledge seemed unquenchable. She asked about everything she saw, everything she heard. She pried into his life, his home, his magic, his thoughts of Thalassa. It was the latter that was the hardest to answer. He didn't know himself how he thought of Thalassa. Why could he see her image so clearly in his mind, when it was a struggle to bring up Elise? Why could he remember her smile, her voice, her laughter, the touch of her skin? Three days. It had been only three days, eight months ago. Why did it seem like only yesterday? "Do you hear that?" Vaoni asked. Terran shook the thoughts of Thalassa aside. "Hear what?" "Those drums. Where are they coming from?" Terran caught at his breath. Yes, he could hear them, and he realized that he had unconsciously been listening to them for many leagues. The idea that Vaoni could hear them brought a sense of relief. Perhaps his father had heard them as well, and was only humoring him by denying it. "I don't know what they are," he told the little girl. "I've been hearing them for some time now." She was quiet for a moment, then whispered. "They're the Nitesh." The word startled Terran, carved into his soul, matched the rhythm of his heart with the beat of the drums. Yet, until this moment, he had never heard it before. He stared down at Vaoni. "What?" "Nitesh—the heartbeat of the land," she replied, then took his hand and pressed it against her small, bony chest. "Do you feel it?" Terran could feel her heart beating, keeping time with the drums, with his own heartbeat. It both intrigued him and frightened him. He withdrew his hand, and clutched the reins. "What does it mean, Vaoni?" She shrugged and nestled close to him. "I'm not sure yet," she answered, her voice suddenly sleepy. Terran looked down at her, his confusion increasing. "Did you just use magic, Vaoni?" he asked quietly. "I think so," she mumbled. He saw her eyelids flutter closed, and she slumped. He tightened his hold on her to keep her from falling, his mind swirling with questions. Who was this child? Had he only found her by accident, or was this part of fate? Part of the tapestry of his life? And Thalassa? How did she figure into his life? He couldn't believe that those three days he had spent with her was all that he would receive. Just finding a woman from Zal so far inland was enough of a miracle. They seldom left their coastal villages except to travel amongst their own kind. What were the odds that she would be there, in that alley, on the same day that he arrived? She, a seawoman, and he, an elfin prince, both out of their usual place in the world. Terran drew a deep, slow breath, and quickened his horse's pace. He had to find Thalassa. What he knew of Rhaeven and his brutal ways put a desperation into Terran's search. Plus, there was the fact of the child that she carried. Terran hadn't thought to ask Vaoni how far advanced Thalassa's pregnancy was. There was a 31

chance that Rhaeven wouldn't even notice. On the other hand, if she was showing, the warlord might decide to abort the child through one of his grisly procedures. The thought sent a chill through Terran. From the sounds of it, Thalassa had suffered enough at the hands of the man she called husband. Terran chastised himself for letting her return to the village that day, eight months ago. He should have taken her with him, back to his palace. But his own sense of decorum, his own respect for another man's love, had stopped him. Respect? He scoffed at that word. He had made love with Thalassa. More than once. How much respect did that show for either her or her intended husband? Guilt reddened Terran's cheeks, and left a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. If nothing else, he owed her an apology. He had done the unthinkable, something he viewed with disgust amongst his peers. They thought nothing of bedding another woman, usually a servant of the household, whether they were married or not. Terran had always held himself above that. Then he had met Thalassa. He supposed their lovemaking was an act of desperation, as well as mutual attraction. Neither had wanted to return to the life that waited them. For a brief time, they had escaped their uncertainty in each other's arms. Terran's hand drifted to his lips almost unbidden. She tasted of salt, of the sea. He kissed her again, his heart pounding. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. When he pulled back to catch a breath, she smiled, and twined a curl of his dark hair around her finger. "For tonight," she whispered. He wasn't sure what she spoke of, didn't dare to make assumptions. "For tonight?" She stroked his cheek with one long, pale finger, then ran it across his lips. He kissed it gently. "Do you desire me?" she asked. Terran could not stop his answer, however inappropriate it might seem. "Yes." His voice was no more than a hoarse whisper, and he lowered his lips again to hers. Vaoni shifted against him, mumbling in her sleep. He could just make out the words, though he didn't understand them at all.

"She calls the power…it will come…" the little girl whispered. "It will come…"

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CHAPTER 6 Thalassa collapsed onto the bed with an exhausted sigh. She had been at Lord Rhaeven's beck and call all day. He had found plenty to keep her busy, starting with a bath first thing in the morning. He made her scrub his entire body, wash his hair, and afterward massage him with oils until her hands and arms burned with fatigue. But it hadn't ended there. There were his clothes to be pressed and folded, his boots to be treated with mink oil, the furniture in his room to be dusted and waxed, his bed to be made with fresh linens. The list went on. She had been granted just thirty minutes for a hasty lunch of cold meat and weak tea, and now her stomach ached with hunger. If his plan was to kill the baby through work, Thalassa feared he would get his wish. She rolled onto her back, laying one hand on her abdomen. The baby was restless, agitated, kicking at her with painful thrusts of either foot or fist. "Poor wee thing," she whispered, stroking her belly gently. "I know it's not your fault. You could not choose your father. Or your mother, for that matter. Perhaps death now would be the best for us both." "M'Lady?" Eri's voice was soft as he entered the room. No doubt he thought she was asleep. For a moment, she was inclined to let him believe so. She hated seeing the trust and awe in his dark eyes whenever he looked at her. Ever since she had mentioned using the whistle to call the 'great power', Eri had been planning their escape. He had been secretly storing articles he thought they might need. Bits of rope, an aged waterskin, a discarded cloak, a rusty blade from the kitchen—all were hidden carefully beneath the thick mattress of Thalassa's bed. She shuddered to think what would happen to either her or Eri should the items be discovered by Rhaeven or Adrick. "M'Lady, I've brought you some dinner," Eri said, approaching the bed. Thalassa sat up, forcing a smile to her face. "Stolen, Eri?" He grimaced. "Not all of it, M'Lady. Just the peach." He removed the cover on the tray. "A peach?" Thalassa whispered. As she reached for the fruit, memories enveloped her. "I've a special treat for you." "What is it?" she asked, trying to see what Terran had hidden behind his back. He grinned at her. "You'll have to guess." "Give me some hints, at the least," she pleaded. He paused, narrowing his eyes as if thinking. "All right. Something from my land. Something with a tender skin, a sweetness unsurpassed, a glow that speaks of the sun, and at its heart, a special gift that has the ability to bring joy to so many." Thalassa frowned. "That's quite a riddle, M'Lord." She chewed on her lip, then gave him a teasing smile. "Perhaps you speak not of something you hide, but of yourself." Terran's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he chuckled as she approached him. 33

Only when there were inches apart, did he concede her win. He held the peach forth, like a trophy. Thalassa never took her eyes from his. "The fruit can wait, M'Lord," she whispered, surrounding him with her arms. "I'd like my treat now, if you please." For a second he was quiet, then he kissed the tip of her nose. "I do please, M'Lady. I do." "I thought you could use it," Eri said, grinning at her, as if he suspected her thoughts had strayed. She flushed, and bit into the fruit, closing her eyes in ecstasy, letting the juice drip down her chin. It was a little bit of heaven, something she had not tasted for months. With a small smile, she held it out to Eri, offering him a taste of the succulent fruit. He hesitated only a moment, then accepted. His moan of pleasure brought a giggle from Thalassa, which she stifled quickly lest someone should be listening outside the door. Eri laughed quietly, and they finished off the peach, alternating bites. When they were done, Eri held up the pit in worry. "What shall we do with this?" "It's a special gift. Put it with the rest of the things," Thalassa told him. "Perhaps someday we shall plant it. It will be the tree of freedom for us." Eri studied the pit for a moment, then swished it clean in the washbasin, and tucked it under the mattress. "You'd best eat your soup, and get some sleep. I imagine Lord Rhaeven has a full day planned for you tomorrow. I know he does for me." Thalassa couldn't help but notice the tone of Eri's voice. She touched him lightly on the shoulder. "What does he have you doing during the day?" Eri grimaced. "Nothing very physical, just unpleasant. I'm the Keep's new gong farmer." "Gong farmer?" "Droppings, waste, manure," Eri explained. "I'm to keep things picked up after the animals. No doubt he thinks that such light duties will allow me to recover from my ordeal." Thalassa shook her head. "He is a cruel man, Eri. Don't incur his wrath." Eri glanced toward the closed door, then leaned closer to Thalassa. "When will you call the power, Thalassa?" "I… I don't know," she stammered, her hand moving reflexively toward her throat. The whistle pendant was not there; it had been well hidden behind a loose stone in the hearth. Still, she could almost feel its weight lying against her skin. "Why do you wait?" Thalassa paused, uncertain herself. "I… I just want to make sure that everything is in place. I…" She drew a deep breath. "I'm not really sure exactly what this power is, Eri. My mother never told me. I'm a little bit frightened to call it up, to be honest." Eri sat back, his face thoughtful. "I see." He rose, massaging at the base of his neck, as if he wanted to say more, but was unsure of doing so. Thalassa frowned. "What, Eri? What is it?" 34

He turned back to face her. "It's just that…well," he leaned closer to her, "I have to leave, Thalassa. My Lord needs my help. I've been here too long already. He…he…" Thalassa looked deep into his eyes, saw the despair hovering there. "How, Eri? How will you get out?" "I've given it some thought. I'm the one who loads the manure onto the wagon. Every morning, first thing, the wagon is taken into the outer fields and dumped for the farmhands to use. I could hide myself beneath the—" Thalassa stopped him with a gasp of disgust and a firm grip to his forearm. He frowned. "I'm sorry, M'Lady," he murmured. "I didn't mean to upset you." "It's not that, Eri. It's just too dangerous. They'd find you. I… I don't know what Lord Rhaeven will do to you if he…no, Eri, no, you can't do it this way." "I don't have a choice," Eri returned, and tears abruptly shone in his eyes. "I have to get help for Lord Sinclair. If I don't, he'll surely die there." "And you'll surely die here," Thalassa told him. "My death is nothing. His is a great loss." "How can you say that?" she cried. "You're no less of a person than this Lord you dote on!" He straightened with a heavy sigh. "You don't understand." "Then explain!" "I can't. Not now, not here. I don't want to leave you behind, but I don't think that both of us will be able to escape using the same deception." "Nor will we have to," Thalassa retorted, determination steeling her resolve. She rose and went to the hearth. A quick pull on the loose stone revealed the dark hole that hid the whistle. She drew out the shiny metal, then turned to Eri. "Are you ready, then? I have no idea what this will do." Eri crossed the room and took her hand. "M'Lady, you don't have to risk yourself for me. Once I am out, I will send back help to free you." "And how long will that take, Eri?" She stroked her abdomen. "This baby is due within the month. Once arrived, its fate is sealed. I can't bear to think of it being killed or sold into slavery. No, this child must be born into freedom." Eri studied her face for a long moment, then nodded. He returned to the mattress, withdrew the articles he had stashed, and laid them out upon the bed. Thalassa fetched her only shawl, and stretched it out to use as a pack, her fingers trembling. She placed the whistle about her neck, where it came to rest above her pounding heart. Eri quickly gathered the supplies together, tied the three corners of the shawl, and lifted the pack to his shoulders. No sooner had he done so, than the door to Thalassa's room was practically torn from its hinges. Adrick staggered inside, the smell of drink heavy about his half-naked body. Thalassa let out a little squeal of alarm, and darted behind Eri. The boy held up his free hand as if to stop Adrick, but the man merely laughed. "You think to stop me, boy?" he slurred, stumbling closer. "This wench belongs to me, and by damn, I'll have her, pregnant or not." "She is not yours, Lord Adrick," Eri said firmly. "She belongs to Lord Rhaeven." Adrick glared at him, though his eyes seemed to be moving in a random pattern. 35

"To hell with my brother!" he roared. "I saw her first, I get her first." He made a motion to push Eri aside, but the boy stood firm, throwing Adrick off balance. He stumbled to one side, crashed against the washbasin, and sent the glass bowl toppling. It smashed to the wooden floor, scattering bits of ceramic in all directions. Adrick fell with it, then bellowed in pain as his hand came down on a jagged bit of crockery. Blood ran down his arm as he held his hand up to appraise the wound. "Now see what you've done," he said to Eri. "This will get you bull-whipped on the morrow." Though Eri had paled, he still stood his ground, keeping Thalassa well behind him, as Adrick got slowly to his feet. "M'Lord, best you return to your quarters before Lord Rhaeven discovers this intrusion," Eri said calmly. "I'll say nothing." Adrick gave a cold, wicked smile. "No, you'll say nothing," he whispered. "Dead men don't talk." Thalassa gasped as Adrick yanked a dagger from his boot, and swung outward at Eri. The blade caught the boy along one cheek, leaving a long, thin gash that quickly bloodied his face. "No!" Thalassa cried, as Eri stumbled backward in pain. She clutched his arm with one hand, and grabbed for the whistle with the other. But Adrick was quicker. He shoved Eri aside, and gripped Thalassa's wrist. With one smooth motion, he brought her up next to him, and pressed his mouth against hers. She struggled against his hold, grimacing as his warm blood wet her skin. He dropped the dagger, grabbed the neck of her gown, and tore it away, baring her to the waist. "Lord Adrick!" Eri snapped, tugging at the man's arm. "The sea-woman belongs to your brother! If he finds you here –" "Silence, you half-wit!" Adrick bellowed, and backhanded Eri hard enough to send him crashing against the wall. He slid to the floor, obviously stunned. Adrick grabbed Thalassa's breasts in a rough hold, and forced her back onto the bed. Once again Thalassa's memories took her home, and her body responded the only way she knew. She recoiled into herself, unable to fight. His mouth moved to her breasts, and she cried out in pain as he sunk teeth into the tender skin there. "Please," she begged, sobs choking her words. "Don't do this." Adrick suddenly jerked backward, a look of confusion on his face. His gaze met hers, then he surged up and away, grabbing for his back with both hands. Eri leapt aside as Adrick spun, then toppled to the floor, writhing. His own dagger protruded from between his shoulder blades, buried to the hilt. Eri pulled Thalassa from the bed, his face ashen. She met his frightened gaze, then swiftly put the whistle to her lips, and blew. Nothing happened. No sound came from the whistle at all. Thalassa stared at Eri in shock and desperation. He snatched up the pack, grabbed her hand, and pulled her after him into the hallway. "Where are we going?" Thalassa cried. She pulled the torn remnants of her gown over her nudity, tying the tattered ends together. "Out! Just out!" Eri spun and closed the door to her bedroom, hiding Adrick's body from curious eyes. "How? There are guards everywhere!" 36

"Not everywhere," Eri replied, his voice grim. He fairly dragged her down the hallway and up a short flight of stairs to the latrine, where he stopped. Thalassa watched in horror as he unfurled a long rope bolted into the wall above the toilet, and dropped it into the dark chasm beneath. "You're not serious!" she cried. "We're going down there?" "I'm very serious," Eri replied. He took off the pack, took out a square of cloth, and held it out to her. "Put this over your nose and mouth. This isn't going to be pleasant, M'Lady, but neither is hanging from the gallows for murder." Thalassa paled at his words, and took the cloth. Her stomach was already threatening to upend at just the thought of sliding down the filthy chute. She gestured at the gash on Eri's cheek. "You'll infect it," she said, her voice weak. "Aye, most likely," Eri agreed, but covered his nose and mouth with another piece of cloth. He looped the rope about Thalassa, taking care to ride it high above her abdomen. "I'll not fit, Eri," Thalassa suddenly moaned. "Yes, you will." Eri grabbed at the wooden slats, and yanked them free, opening up the entire chute. A ghastly smell arose, and Thalassa gagged, covering her mouth with her hand. "Eri, I can't." "You have to, M'Lady," Eri retorted, his voice crisp and firm. "I will let you down slowly, but steadily. This chute opens into the moat. Once there, take a breath, then swim underwater, staying close to the walls of the Keep. Go only as far as you have to. I will join you." He motioned her towards the chute. Thalassa grimaced, then slipped over the edge into the darkness. Eri lowered her carefully. Still, she bumped and slid along walls slimy and foul smelling. With one hand, she gripped the coarse rope, with the other she held her nose closed, breathing in shallow gasps through her mouth. She was only grateful that the Keep was not a large one, only three floors high, and that she had been housed on the second. It wasn't long before she felt icy water touch at her feet, then creep up her legs. As the cold liquid reached her waist, she loosed the rope, ready to swim from the cesspit into the moat. Once her nose was unplugged, the horrendous smells around her assailed her. She gagged, then heaved, then heaved again, holding to the rope to keep from slipping under. She couldn't bring herself to duck into the fetid waters, and panic swelled inside of her. A jerk on the rope told her that Eri had started his descent. Thalassa's head swirled, and she felt the first signs of a faint rush through her. She swallowed hard, trying to keep it at bay, knowing that if she fainted, she would drown. A moment later, Eri's feet hit her head, and she moved aside to let him come down beside her. Though she could not see him in the darkness, she reached out to hug him with relief. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. "I couldn't…the water, it's…" "I know, M'Lady," he murmured, finding her hand. "I'll guide you. Take a breath. We're going under." Thalassa steeled herself against the smell, drew a deep breath through her 37

mouth, and allowed Eri to pull her under the cold water. She kept her eyes closed, her nose pinched shut. Her other hand gripped Eri's in a fierce hold. She was terrified of being lost in this foul darkness, of never getting out, of dying here in this horrible place. She was barely conscious of the water changing in temperature, becoming slightly warmer, as Eri pulled her along. Then abruptly, she was above water, and drew in a deep, welcome breath of clean air. She brushed the water from her face, and opened her eyes. Night dimmed the lands about her, but moonlight and torchlight danced on the waters of the moat. She and Eri weren't far from the drawbridge, and the boy led her towards it, sliding soundlessly through the waters. Two well-armed guards stood at watch, and the sight of them set Thalassa's heart racing. She was ready to pull Eri back, to swim the opposite direction, but his grip on her hand was strong. He pulled her underneath the drawbridge. She had to throw her head back to keep her face above water, with the rough wood of the bridge only inches above her. She started when she bumped against the opposite shore. Eri's soft voice came close to her ear. "I'm going to give you a reed. Put it into your mouth, but leave one end of it above the water. Then duck your head under. You'll be able to breathe through the reed." "And then?" She could not keep the tremor from her voice. "Then we wait for them to pull up the drawbridge, and for it to get darker." Thalassa wanted to voice her doubts, but was too cold to do so. In her mind's eye she saw again the wide-open expanses surrounding Rhaeven's Keep. There was no way that she and Eri could avoid being seen, no matter how dark the night. The thought of a crossbow quarrel through her back sent another violent shudder through her. How had things gotten so crazy? A month ago, the most she'd had to bear was her husband's hands upon her, and periodic beatings. Now, here she was, reeking of human excrement, treading water so cold it took her breath away, and waiting for Adrick's lifeless body to be discovered in her room. And for what? To keep safe a child that she hadn't wanted in the first place. A sudden, high-pitched shriek brought her head forward in surprise. The underside of the bridge raked across her head, sending fiery pain through her scalp, and forcing her face back into the water. She thrashed in panic, trying to twist to get her mouth above the water, and succeeded in swallowing a great mouthful. She couldn't cough and couldn't inhale without taking in more water. Pure panic set in, and she pushed away from Eri, to clear the bridge. Once there, she burst from the water, taking in great gulps of fresh night air, in between retching coughs that sent swallowed water back up. Sense told her that she would quickly be discovered with all of the noise she was making. Yet, it slowly dawned on her that something else was making far more of a racket. High-pitched screams and shrieks filled the air, echoing off the Keep's stone walls. Men's terrified cries mixed in, and the drawbridge was abruptly raised. Bright flashes of light cut through the darkness, and it took Thalassa's addled brain a few moments to realize that it was fire. Everywhere she looked, small fires leapt and danced from the dried grasses in the fields around the Keep. Several thatched roofs of the serfs' cottages were also 38

ablaze. Women and children screamed and cried in terror as they bolted from their homes, while menfolk tried in vain to squelch the flames. "By the gods!" Eri breathed. "It's Aki!" Thalassa looked where he pointed. A giant, white dragon circled the Keep, fire spouting from its mouth at random intervals, leaving a trail of destruction everywhere it touched. Firelight danced off the creature's eyes as they swiveled back and forth as if scanning the landscape beneath. Thalassa had never seen anything so terrifying, or so magnificent. Eri scrambled ashore, and pulled her after him. "Run!" he commanded, then took her by the hand and tugged her along. They ran across the fields, darting from one wildfire to another, using the flames as cover, using the fleeing peasants as diversion. They arrived in the little village, breathless, and in Thalassa's case, sick. She leaned against a stone wall, and heaved up volumes of dirty water. "M'Lady," Eri whispered, his voice urgent. "We cannot stop now." "I… I can't run…" Thalassa gasped, holding her belly. "Go on, Eri, go on without me. Save yourself." "No!" His response was swift, and he once more urged her forward. All about them, mayhem ruled. The village men had started a bucket brigade from the nearby river, in an attempt to save their houses. Eri led Thalassa along the line, and finally to the edge of the river itself. "In!" he commanded. "What!" Thalassa stared at the swift moving waters in shock. "In!" Eri repeated, and actually pushed her into the river. She shrieked, whirled and tried to grab onto the shore, but succeeded only in grabbing Eri's arm. Together they were swept up by the current, and taken away from Rhaeven's Keep to sure death. *** A shrill cry tore into Terran's dreams, waking him to early morning. He bolted upright, then gasped as dizziness claimed him. His gaze flew to Vaoni, his hand to his sword. The little girl was sitting up as well, her small face as white as the sand she grew up near. Her blue eyes were unfocused, as if she slept still, but didn't know it. Terran reached out to touch her shoulder, and she slumped forward into his arms. "Vaoni?" he whispered, his heart racing in alarm. He shook her gently. She gave a soft moan, then looked up at him, as if just waking from sleep. "Terran? What's wrong?" For a moment, Terran was speechless. He had never heard such a feral cry, and had no idea from where it had come. His gaze shifted to the morning sky warily, but he was careful to keep his fear from the child. He absently stroked her hair back from her forehead before speaking. "You…were talking in your sleep. It startled me, that's all." "I was? What did I say?" "I…I couldn't understand you. Were you dreaming?" She gave a lazy smile. "I was a dragon. A huge white dragon. Fire came from 39

my mouth as I flew." She cocked her head at him. "Do you know Aki?" Terran could not contain the small gasp. "Aki?" Vaoni nodded. "That is the dragon's name." Terran forced a calm to his voice. "And you know this? A dream dragon with a name?" "Oh, it wasn't really a dream," Vaoni said, her voice matter of fact. "I'm hungry. Can I eat?" She grabbed for the supply pack. Terran stayed her hand, and motioned toward the stream they had camped beside. With a groan, Vaoni went to wash. Terran watched her, his mind racing as fast as his heart. Aki? The Dragon Goddess. How could this small child know of such? And why would the dragon be in her dreams? His gaze again went to the skies. Had what he heard been only in his dreams? "Now can I eat?" Vaoni asked, scrambling towards him. "I'm starved." He smiled and handed her the pack. "Now, you may eat. I'm going to wash, as well. Save me something," he added teasingly. "I'll try," she replied. The words were said with such seriousness, it startled Terran. He frowned as he rose. Once again, dizziness claimed him, and he staggered several steps backward. "Are you all right?" Vaoni asked. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. I must have stood up too fast." He shook his head, rubbed at his eyes, and walked slowly to the stream. There, he sank down with a quiet groan. He was exhausted. Every muscle in his body felt weak, as if he'd spent the evening taking drink, instead of sleep. He splashed some water onto his face, but even the icy liquid couldn't fully revive him. He wanted only to crawl back under his blankets, and rest. But he couldn't. He'd already delayed too long. Thalassa was with Lord Rhaeven, he was sure of it. And the longer she was his prisoner, the more she would suffer. He had to rescue her, had to secure her freedom somehow. He supposed it would make more sense to return home, gather a contingent of soldiers, and approach Rhaeven's Keep as a unit. Still, he didn't want to lose precious time doing so. At the same time, he wasn't sure how Rhaeven would take to him riding up to the Keep alone. For a moment, fear gnawed at his gut. Then, he remembered Princess Sylvia. She would be in Diraenia, at the palace. If Terran did not return home, neither would Sylvia. She would, unwittingly, be a hostage, held by his father until Terran's safe return. Terran knew that Rhaeven would do nothing that might endanger his own king's daughter. That would be sheer suicide for him. Buoyed by that thought, Terran finished his toilet, and slowly made his way back to Vaoni, where he collapsed onto his bedroll. She looked up at him, clutching a meat stick in one hand, a piece of fruit in the other. "Are you sick?" Terran hesitated before answering. "My magic use seems to have just caught up with me. I'm sure I'll be fine after I eat." He took the food packet, opened it, then looked at Vaoni in shock. "Where did all of the food go?" She flushed. "I ate it." "You ate everything in there?" Terran asked in disbelief. "I'm sorry. I… I was hungry." She hung her head, and quietly restated her apology. 40

"No, Vaoni," Terran said gently. "It's all right. You need the food more than I do. I just hope it stays puts. That was an awful lot to put into a shrunken belly." She raised a tear-filled gaze to meet his. "But now you've nothing to eat, and you're sick. Here, take this." She thrust her meat stick and fruit at him. Terran stared at the fruit for a long moment, then chuckled. "I'm fine. We'll stop over in the next village, and replenish our supplies. Perhaps we'll even have a room for the night. How does that sound?" He expected her to respond with excitement, and was surprised when she merely shrugged and nodded. "You don't want a room?" he asked. She looked at him quickly. "If you do." Terran paused. In truth, he was looking forward to sleeping on something besides the hard ground. Though, he suspected that any inn this remote would be hard pressed to serve up much more than a straw pallet. Still, he had clearly read the reluctance in Vaoni's words. "I'll tell you what," he said. "Why don't we wait until we get there, and decide then about the room?" Vaoni again nodded and rose. She walked up next to him, and once more held out the meat and fruit. "You eat this. I'll wait until lunch to eat again." "There may be no lunch," he told her. "It's a fair day's journey to Olar, the next village. Save this food for later." Vaoni seemed to consider the idea, then shook her head. "Not the meat, just the fruit. You eat this. Here." She pressed the meat stick into his hand. "Please?" Faced with the large, expressive blue eyes, Terran relented and took a bite. A brief smile tugged at his lips. "You remind me so much of Thalassa. She could change my mind with just such a look as yours." Vaoni cocked her head at him. "What did she want you to do?" Terran chuckled. "Sing. She wanted me to sing for her." "Oh!" Vaoni gasped. "You can sing?" "A little. I'm no Bard, but Thalassa seemed to enjoy my tunes." "Will you sing for me?" Vaoni begged. "Please?" The words, the tones, brought a gasp from Terran, as his thoughts tumbled backward. "Will you sing for me?" Thalassa begged. "Please?" Terran smiled at her teasingly. "And you will then take amusement at my expense, M'Lady?" "No!" Thalassa cried, truly astonished. "No, I would not! It's just that…" She blushed furiously, lowering her gaze, "I heard you singing last eve, M'Lord, while you bathed in the river. I was drawn to the sweet sound. You have a gorgeous…" Her blush deepened. "Voice!" she finished quickly. Terran chuckled softly, then laughed outright. He swept her into his arms. "You are a breath of fresh sea air, Thalassa. That I can even sing again is testimony to the joy that you have brought me. You are a gift, Thalassa, a pearl from the sea, a precious gem that I have been allowed to hold for even this short time. Yes, I will sing for you, Thalassa." He hugged her tightly, then drew back to look into her pale, blue eyes. "And I will sing because of you." 41

They gazed at one another in silence, then slowly, Terran brought his lips to meet hers. Any singing would have to wait. He touched lightly at his lips, the memory so strong he could feel and taste her mouth on his. Vaoni tapped him lightly on the shoulder, startling him. He looked up at her, a flush creeping over his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I… I was…" His words were muffled as he shoved the last bite of meat into his mouth. "You were thinking of Thalassa," she interrupted, her voice sure. "You like her a lot, don't you?" Terran's flush deepened, and he quickly got to his feet. "We need to get moving if we're to reach Olar by dark. I'll put the pack together. You can fetch some water to squelch the fire. Here." He handed her the tin cup from the pack. Vaoni giggled and skipped away. Terran let out a sigh and chastised himself. He was making a fool of himself. If his affections for Thalassa were this obvious to an eight-year-old, what would Rhaeven make of them? If he thought Terran was there for any reason other than to lay claim to a runaway servant, how would he react? What would he do to keep Thalassa his? The questions pounded at his addled mind, and tied his stomach into knots. How could he so passionately love someone he barely knew? He shook his head in exasperation, and fastened his pack closed with quick, strong pulls. It wasn't love. It was escape. Thalassa offered him an escape, respite from his life as the crown prince. With her, he was free to simply be Terran. Oh, it was true, she had not for a moment taken him to be a peasant, but still she had no idea what title he held. And that suited him. For once, he had known how someone felt towards him when they were not swayed by grandeur or the promise of a sweet and rich life. He stopped in his work. How had she felt towards him? Was not her interest also an escape? She had made no pretense that she was unhappy with the lot her life drew. He was a dalliance, a sowing of the last wild oats before she settled down with her…her what? Her abusive husband? Had what Vaoni said been the truth? Was it more than she imagined? She was a child, after all. How could she fully understand the relationship between a man and a woman? He looked over at her. She had finished with the fire, and now stood before Boaz, a cup full of water held aloft. "Here, Boaz, take some water," she urged. "You need it." Terran grinned and approached her. "Here, like this." He slipped the reins over the horse's head, and handed them to Vaoni. "Take him to the stream." "Drag him?" she gasped. "No, just walk. He'll follow." Vaoni frowned, but turned toward the stream. Boaz followed obediently, then lowered his head to drink of the cold water. Vaoni laughed and clapped her small hands together in delight. She squatted down beside the animal, and gently stroked his cheek. Terran watched, his heart captured by this tiny, blonde waif. Slowly, his gaze moved west. He would find Thalassa, and any other survivors of Rhaeven's evil. He would return them to their home with a promise of protection from Diraenia. And, he vowed, he would make frequent visits to the Zal coast. He would not let 42

Thalassa, or her child, suffer any more.

But first, he had to find her.

43

CHAPTER 7 Thalassa shivered and glanced over the small campfire at Eri. He was asleep, put there by her magic, before healing the wound on his face. Still, he was restless, muttering and frowning. He hadn't wanted her to use her magic, was afraid that Rhaeven would somehow sense it. But Thalassa knew the gash on his face needed to be healed, or the boy would soon bleed to death. He had lost a lot of blood already, both during their frantic flight from the Keep, and the time spent in the rushing waters of the river. So, against his will, she had caused him to sleep, then healed the wound as best she could. She hoped it was well enough. With a heavy sigh, she glanced at her surroundings. The dark woods around her felt confining and cold, yet she knew they also provided shelter and protection. And food. She was famished, but that would have to wait for later, when she let Eri out of the SleepSpell. She glanced over at him, then started as he suddenly let out a muffled oath, and woke. "My Spell," she breathed. "You…you broke through it!" He glared at her. "And you should be damn glad I did!" he raged, then abruptly kicked dirt over the small campfire, almost smothering it. "Why did you do that?" Thalassa cried, fanning it back to flame. "Because, M'Lady," Eri seethed, "we are far too close to Lord Rhaeven's Keep. We have wasted precious time sitting here. Time in which Rhaeven and his men could have spotted the smoke from that fire." "We're leagues from his Keep!" Thalassa pointed out. Eri seemed to think on her words, then blurted, "How could you do this? How could you defy my wishes and place a spell over me?" Thalassa's anger flared. "Then it would have been preferable for you to bleed to death? How much help could you have afforded your precious Lord Sinclair, then?" "He's not my precious Lord! He's my friend!" "Then go to him! I don't need your help, anyway." "Fine! I will!" Eri shot to his feet and stormed away. Enraged, Thalassa snatched up a piece of firewood, and hurled it after him. It hit him square in the back, and he stopped. Thalassa caught at her breath, wondering at his reaction. If it were like all other men she had known, he would retaliate with his fist. She got swiftly to her feet. "I… I'm sorry," she stammered, backing away. Eri bent, retrieved the wood, then turned to face her. But there was no anger in his eyes, only emptiness that spoke of defeat and despair. Thalassa frowned, not sure how to react, though she took another few steps back. Eri sighed and looked at the wood in his hands. "I am the one who should be sorry, M'Lady," he said quietly. "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself. Angry and disappointed." "Disappointed? Why?" For a moment, he was silent. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, filled with sadness. "I've never killed a man before, Thalassa. I don't much like the idea that I've done so now." He dropped the wood and rubbed at his face, then winced as his fingers brushed against the raw, new scar. A wry chuckle escaped him. 44

"Some knight I'll make, eh? A knight who doesn't like killing." Thalassa grimaced. "If you liked killing, Eri, you wouldn't be a knight. You'd be a murderer and a madman. Besides, you're only a child. You should not have to be thinking of killing anyone. Your life should be one of laughter and joy." He lifted his gaze in surprise. For a long time he said nothing, then slowly he approached her. She stood her ground until he lifted one hand, then reflexes drove her back in a hasty retreat. Eri stopped, hurt flicking through his dark eyes. "You think I would strike you, M'Lady?" "N…no," she lied, then sagged against the nearest tree. She passed a trembling hand across her brow, trying in vain to still the pounding of her heart. She absently wondered if it would always be this way; that she would always find fear when facing a man. Even a boy such as Eri. Her thoughts went to the elf in the alley. "Do you fear me?" he asked softly. For a moment, Thalassa hesitated, then she shook her head. "I should, but I do not." He laughed quietly. "And why should you? Am I that horrible to behold? For if I am, then my companionship will surely frighten off all marauders on the road who might choose to threaten you." It was Thalassa's turn to laugh. "You are far from horrible, M'Lord. If you frighten anyone, it will be because of the strength displayed in your eyes." No, she had not feared him, even though he had stood before her outfitted with a lethal sword. And she would not fear Eri. She took a deep breath, and regarded Eri. "Please accept my apologies for using magic on you. I only wanted to help you, as you have helped me. You are no longer bleeding, though you will no doubt be weak. Still, you are free now to seek out that help you promised to Lord Sinclair." "That sounded like a goodbye." Thalassa averted her gaze. "It was." "And where will you go?" Eri asked. "Back to Zal. I need to find a village in which to have my baby, someone willing to care for it when I die." Eri's eyes grew wide, and he grabbed for her hand. She let out a small gasp of surprise and fear, but he only pushed back the sleeve of her gown. "The streak! It's gone higher!" "Aye," Thalassa murmured, staring at the red line. She had not checked it herself, had not wanted to see it. "The exertion of the escape, no doubt. But it makes no matter, now." "Lord Sinclair can help you," Eri stated. "It's not likely at this point." Eri shook his head, his grip on her hand tightening. "I've seen him heal the Sickness in those who were far more advanced in it than you. Please, M'Lady, please come with me. At least it will be a chance." "What chance, Eri?" Thalassa cried. "You said Sinclair was a prisoner, that he was near to dying himself. What chance can he afford me, when he can't even save himself?" 45

Eri sighed and sagged to the ground. "What you say is true." He paused. "I have a made a decision, Thalassa. I am going to try to rescue Sinclair myself. I no longer have time to reach his father. I have no right to ask you to accompany me on what will no doubt be a dangerous journey. But if you walk away, my heart will ache to know what has become of you, of your child." His voice dropped to a near whisper. "I care for you, Thalassa. I don't want you to go." Thalassa heard the grief and loneliness in his voice, and she sat down beside him. She wasn't sure what to say, and so said nothing at all. She didn't want to encourage him in his feelings for her, he was far too young. At the same time, it warmed her heart to think that this gentle soul actually cared what happened to her. He turned to face her, grasping both of her hands in his. "I can't just accept your death, Thalassa. There is something special about you. I knew it the moment we looked into each other's eyes, the moment your magic touched me. I know that I am not yet a man, but that doesn't change how I feel. I… I love you, Thalassa." She cringed at the words, then laid one hand against his scarred cheek. "You are so young yet, Eri. You have so much life ahead of you. There is nothing special about me. I am just a woman of the sea." "You called Aki. She answered." "The dragon?" Thalassa almost laughed, would have but for the conviction in Eri's eyes. "No, Eri, I did not call that dragon, though I am not sorry that her actions helped us to escape." "May I see the whistle?" Eri asked abruptly. Thalassa frowned, but removed it from around her neck and handed it to him. He rose, went to an early morning shaft of sunlight, and studied the ornament carefully. Thalassa watched in confusion. "Here!" Eri suddenly cried. "Look here, Thalassa!" She rose and joined him, to peer over his shoulder. A cold shiver rushed through her. AKI was engraved in the silver. "So?" she managed. "They are the initials of the craftsman, nothing more." "You know that is not true. Aki is the Diraenian name for the Dragon Goddess." Thalassa once again moved away from him, her heart pounding, joining in the pounding of the drums that suddenly filled the forest around her. Her gaze darted over the trees, then swept back to Eri. "Do you hear that?" He frowned, then shook his head. "Hear what?" Thalassa swallowed her panic. "N…nothing. It's nothing." Her gaze moved back to the whistle. "If that is Diraenian, than you should have it. It was mine by mistake. My parents were both Zal." "You said your mother gave it to you. Did she tell you anything at all about it? Where she got it? From whom?" Thalassa shook her head. "Your father, perhaps? Maybe it was his." "No, not likely. If he had thought it had worth, he would have sold it. As it was, I took care to keep it hidden beneath my clothes. It is only a trinket, Eri, given to a child by her mother. It doesn't even work." "Oh, but it does! Just because we cannot hear the notes it plays, doesn't mean 46

that Aki cannot." "Stop it!" Thalassa cried, covering her ears with her hands. "I did not call the dragon!" "Then explain her presence." "Coincidence! Happenstance! I don't know. But I do know that I did not call her." Eri sighed and held the whistle out to her. "Believe as you will, then, M'Lady." "You keep it," Thalassa retorted. "It doesn't belong to me, it never did. The Diraenian writing inside is proof of that. The Dragon Goddess is yours, not mine." Eri approached her, took her hand and pressed the whistle into it, then closed her fingers over it. "It was bequeathed to you, not me. There is a reason for everything, Thalassa. For everyone." Thalassa closed her eyes against the sudden tears that stung at them. "For everyone?" she whispered. Eri touched her cheek gently, bringing her eyes open. "Please, come with me," he begged. "Please." Thalassa studied him, trying to calm the panic that swelled inside of her. She was terrified of leaving him, yet just as frightened of going with him. Visions of being caught by Rhaeven, of being held as his prisoner once again, drove deep into her mind. She would rather die than face his wrath over Adrick's death. Yet, Eri now seemed determined to go for Sinclair. At the least, her pathetic magic might be useful in some way. And if not her magic, perhaps she could use her body as a bargaining tool. She was not about to let Eri suffer any more pain. With a heavy sigh, she nodded. Eri smiled with relief, caught up her hand, and kissed it. "Thank you, M'Lady, thank you. You have eased one concern in my mind." He quickly retrieved the pack, smothered the fire, and ushered her forward as if afraid that she would change her mind. She held back. "Food, Eri. I need something to eat." He again prodded her forward. "I've grown quite good at foraging, M'Lady. The waterskin is still sealed, the water fresh. I'll find food on the way. See, here." He stooped and picked up some pine nuts, then plucked a handful of berries from a bush. "And along the river we'll find bulrush bulbs and cattails and wild onions. We'll have plenty to eat, if you're not picky." Thalassa couldn't help but smile at his exuberance. "I'm not picky, you know that." She chewed thoughtfully on the pine nuts before voicing her next thoughts. "Tell me about Aki." Eri shrugged. "There's not much to tell. She's the Dragon Goddess. A white dragon who answers to the…" He broke off with a quick look at her. "Answers to the what? The whistle?" "Yes, apparently so. Thalassa, you can't just say it was coincidence. The white dragon has not flown for decades. I only remember stories told to me as a small child, of how the white dragon flew forth to abolish evil, and restore peace and goodwill." Thalassa actually giggled at his words. "That sounded awfully profound." He smiled. "My father had a way of making all stories sound profound. He was a wonderful storyteller. I wish I had half his talent." "So, your father was a bard?" 47

"Aye, in his own way. But a toolmaker for the most part. He was an excellent craftsman, so excellent that he drew the eye of King Liam." "Your father worked for the King of Diraenia?" Thalassa gasped. Eri nodded. "Aye, he did. That's where I met Lord Sinclair. We practically grew up together, though he is five years my senior." Thalassa glanced sideways at him. "And just how old are you, Eri? I put you at less than my age of twenty." "Aye, but not by much. I'm sixteen this past winter." He gave a sudden, mischievous grin. "So, you see, I'm not that young, innocent boy you at first thought, M'Lady." Thalassa felt the color rush to her cheeks. "And I am an old, married and now pregnant woman, Eri. Hardly fitting of a carefree youth such as yourself." Eri laughed good-naturedly, though there was the pain of rejection in his eyes. "But perhaps a good fit for Lord Sinclair," he said. Thalassa gasped. "I don't even know him!" she cried, before she realized that Eri was teasing her. Her flush deepened, and she punched him lightly on the arm. "Find me some more food, Eri, and stop your scandalous talk." "As you wish, M'Lady, as you wish," Eri replied, but the smile never left his face. *** Terran stared at the crystal without seeing it. His thoughts were on Vaoni's tearstreaked face as he had bade her goodbye. They had reached Olar late in the afternoon, where talk was centered on a great fire that had ravaged a village to the west. Gossip ran swift and confusing. Some reports made it out that Lord Rhaeven had burned the village out of anger over some misdeed. Others that the villagers had attempted to escape Rhaeven's brutal rule by burning his Keep. Still others spoke of a great, white dragon that had ravaged the countryside, breathing death and destruction with every pass. Terran knew of the dragon. Aki. It could be no other, though he was mystified as to why the dragon once more flew after so many years of quiet. What or whom had called her out? And why? Again his thoughts drifted to Vaoni's words of the morning. She had been a dragon in her dreams, had flown, and breathed fire. How could she have know that very thing might have been happening leagues away? It didn't make sense. And the fact that that Rhaeven's Keep and holdings were involved sent a chill through Terran. Thoughts of Thalassa tormented his mind. Had she been caught in the fires? Had she succumbed, or somehow survived? He resolved to get there as rapidly as possible, and that would involve magic. Magic of which he did not want to involve Vaoni. He had left her with the village minister and his wife, along with a good deal of funding for her care. It was a decision that had not gone over well with Vaoni, and had left Terran guilty and uneasy. It had been a struggle to leave Olar, but even more of a struggle to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing. He shook his head, rubbed at his eyes, and once more focused on the crystal laid before him. It sat, perfect and cold, at the center of a circle drawn in the dirt. Three tiny arrows made of oak branches, pointed from the circle to the west, his direction of travel. On the right side of the circle, he had drawn a representation of 48

the wind. The spell would give Boaz the ability to run like the wind, to reach Rhaeven's Keep in a matter of hours instead of days. If only Terran could concentrate enough to set up the spell correctly. He tried to get thoughts of Vaoni out of his mind, tried to quell the uneasiness that picked at him. She would be fine. There was no reason to think otherwise. He closed his eyes, forced his mind to center on the task at hand, and called up his magic. It took only moments to complete the spell once he focused. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the crystal, dropped it into the leather pouch that most often hung about Boaz's neck, and rose. "Boaz," he called. "Come." The horse eyed him, but remained where he was. Terran frowned. "Boaz, come," he called again. "It's your favorite spell." Still, the horse did not move, and perplexed, Terran started towards him. Boaz danced out of his reach, snorting. "Boaz! Stop!" Terran demanded, once more approaching. Again, the horse leapt aside, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. Terran scowled, fatigue and worry mixing into anger. "Boaz!" he snapped. "I said, come here!" The horse shook his mighty head, snorted and trotted even farther away. Terran clenched his jaw and stomped toward the animal. "That's enough! Stay!" he commanded. For a moment, it looked as if Boaz might obey, but just as Terran got within arm's reach, the horse turned and danced away. Terran watched in angry astonishment as Boaz stopped, again shook his head, then pawed at the ground anxiously. Meaning hit Terran like a blow to the gut. "Vaoni?" he whispered. "You want to go back to Vaoni?" Boaz reared back, lifting his front feet off the ground. When he landed, he once more darted away, in the direction of Olar. Alarm swept through Terran. He had never doubted Boaz's intelligence, or the great stallion's peculiar gift of empathy. Something was amiss, and Boaz knew it. Terran nodded. "All right, let's go back then," he said. Boaz darted to his side. With pounding heart, Terran vaulted into the saddle. He barely had time to take up the reins, before Boaz bolted. Terran hadn't gone far out of the village, just enough to work his magic without prying eyes. He was glad of it now. It took them less than an hour to arrive back in the quiet, little village. With no prodding, Boaz raced towards the church. He tore down the dirt road, vaulted over a neatly trimmed hedgerow, and came to a sliding halt before the wooden building. Terran leapt to the ground just as two men emerged from the church. One he recognized as the clergyman, Lecor. The other, a stocky, bearded man, had a firm grip on Vaoni's arm, and was dragging the screaming child after him toward a waiting buggy. They both stopped at the sight of Terran. "Terran!" Vaoni shrieked, then sank her teeth into her captor's arm. He bellowed, released his hold, and she darted down the two steps, and into Terran's arms. He scooped her up, held her tightly, and looked to the men for answers. "What is going on here?" he asked, his voice low and tight. 49

"Damnation!" the bearded man spat. "Lecor, you didn't tell me she was elfspawn!" The derogatory words bit into Terran's already-confused mind. He sat Vaoni down, his face set in anger. "I will ask again, what is going on here?" "Nothing," Lecor replied hesitantly. "The missus and I thought Vaoni would be happier in a home with other children to play with. Craven was willing to share his home with her. That's all. But the ungrateful child—" "Liar!" Vaoni cried. "He sold me, Terran! He sold me to that man!" "Sold?" Terran breathed, rage coursing through him. Both men paled, then Craven suddenly leapt forward, his dagger flashing in the twilight. Terran danced aside, the blade missing his face by mere inches. Vaoni screamed, and Boaz reared back, striking out with his hooves. He caught Craven's arm, knocking the dagger from his grip. The man fell to the ground, then twisted to rise, but Boaz again knocked him down. Terran bent and retrieved the dagger, just as Lecor's wife stepped from the church. Her face was bruised, one eye was swollen, and she dabbed at her lips with a kerchief already stained with her blood. Lecor's face went red with anger, and he took a step toward her, his fist clenched. She cringed, backing away, yet still managed to speak. "Take the child away, M'Lord!" she cried. "Please, while you still can!" "Shut up, whore!" Lecor bellowed. "No one's going anywhere. Get back inside! Craven, get up!" "Get this damn horse away from me first!" Craven snapped. "Kill it! Then kill that damned elf-spawn, as well!" Fury shot through Terran. His gaze flew to the woman. "Are there any other children inside?" he asked, barely able to control the magic. "N…no," she stammered, sudden grief clouding her face. "Come down here beside me," Terran instructed. Her gaze flew to her husband. "No. Just go. Please." Terran's eyes narrowed to slits. Fury brought his own magic forward. He made a quick motion through the air. Lecor flew backward to slam against the sideboards of the building. He sagged to the porch, stunned. A muffled shriek escaped his wife, but still she remained where she was. Vaoni darted up the steps, seized her hand, and dragged her toward Terran. "Mount up," Terran said, his gaze still on the two men. The woman hesitated only briefly, then gathered her skirts and swung into the saddle. Terran took a step backward, picked up Vaoni, and placed her in front of the woman. Craven scrambled out from underneath Boaz, crab-walking to the porch steps. Lecor had managed to get to his feet, though he held his back with both hands, pain twisting his features. Terran swung up behind the woman, then eyed the men with rage. "I should kill you both," he seethed. "I put my trust in you, minister. You have violated that trust, just as you have violated your vows, both to your wife and to your God. Your vocation has just changed." He drew back his arm, and threw his magic at the church. 50

It burst into flames, sending Craven and Lecor diving into the shrubs for cover. Terran turned Boaz's head, and let the stallion run. In moments, the village of Olar was left behind. "Hold tight," Terran told Vaoni and the woman. He released the magic still held within the crystal. Boaz lifted his head in excitement, gave one high-pitched whinny, then bolted. Terran heard the woman gasp in alarm, and Vaoni squeal with delight. He tightened his grip on them as Boaz streaked through the forest, dodging bushes and leaping obstacles as if sensing them far ahead of reaching them. Not once did the great stallion falter, not once did his landings jar his riders. Even when darkness fell over the land, he did not stop, but continued, guided only by moonlight and the magic that gave him strength, speed and stamina. At last, it was Terran who brought him to a halt, though it was obvious that Boaz was reluctant to do so. He pranced forward, then sideways, before finally settling down. "Oh," Vaoni moaned, "do we have to stop? That was fun." Terran managed a smile as he dismounted. "We've gone far enough. Boaz must rest now." He pulled her into his arms with the intent of setting her on the ground. But once he held her, felt her frail little body against his, tears blurred his vision. He hugged her close, burying his face in her soft, white curls. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I'm so sorry for leaving you." She wrapped her tiny arms about his neck. "Don't go away again, Terran," she whispered. "Not ever." "I won't, Vaoni, I promise." He lifted his gaze to the woman, who sat, wide-eyed and pale. He could see her trembling. Gently, he set Vaoni down, and reached up to the woman. A sob escaped her, and she looked away from him. "I'm sorry, M'Lord. I should not have let you leave the child with him. I… I should have spoken up sooner." "You were frightened," Terran said softly. "I do not blame you." She winced as he lifted her from Boaz's back. He touched lightly at her battered face. "He did this to you?" "She tried to stop him," Vaoni put in. "He hit her." She pressed against the woman, hugging her leg. "He's a bad man, like Doloth." Mention of Thalassa's husband sent a dagger through Terran's heart. "Did you…" he paused, gathering his courage, "did you ever see Doloth strike Thalassa?" Vaoni nodded. "Many times. Their hut was close to ours. I could hear her. And I saw the bruises and cuts. He was a bad man. I'm glad he's dead now." Terran shuddered, then turned to the woman. "Your name again?" he asked, his voice brusque with emotion. "Kamali." "Ah, yes, Kamali." He studied her a moment longer, thinking on her name. It meant protector, spirit guide. She had certainly been the former for Vaoni. "We'll camp here tonight. I've plenty of food and water, though I've only two blankets." "I'll share with you," Vaoni announced. "Kamali can have my blanket." Terran gave her a small smile as he unsaddled Boaz. "I think it would be more appropriate if you and Kamali used both blankets. The night will be chilly." "But then what of you?" Vaoni asked. "You'll be cold." 51

"I'll keep the fire lit. Come, take the pack. Then you can help me gather wood." "I'll help, as well," Kamali said. "No," Terran replied, dropping the saddle. He eyed Kamali thoughtfully. She was incredibly beautiful, even with her bruises, her swollen eye and lips. Her long, dark tresses had come unbraided during Boaz's wild flight, and now tumbled about her shoulders like a black waterfall. Her dark eyes, that should have held the joy and excitement of life, instead were filled with grief and pain. Even in the moonlight, Terran saw the sheen of sweat on her face, the tremble that refused to leave her slender form. He approached her slowly. "Your ribs are broken," he said. "You need to rest." She gasped. "H…how did you know?" He shrugged. "I am a good guesser. I will get a fire going, then attempt to pull enough magic to at least help with your pain." "But if her ribs were broken, how did she ride?" Vaoni asked, her small face screwing up in puzzlement. Terran smiled at her. "She was protected while immersed in the spell about Boaz, but I expect she's now feeling the pain of her injuries." "Oh, poor Kamali," Vaoni cooed, taking her hand. "Come, sit here." She coaxed Kamali to sit where she could lean back against a tree for support, then took a blanket and draped it over the woman. Kamali looked from Vaoni to Terran, and once more began to cry. Vaoni sat next to her, patting her shoulder in comfort. Terran smiled and winked at the little girl. Boaz wandered away, obviously seeking water. Terran gave Vaoni another reassuring glance, then followed the horse. Moments later, they reached a wide, swift flowing river. It ran cold and clear, gurgling and rushing its way through the forest. Terran hunkered down beside it as Boaz bent to drink. After a moment, Terran directed the last bits of the crystal's magic to the water. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind's vision to follow the river on its course. It wound lazily through the forest, gushing and surging at some places, calm at others, until it opened up to flow across a vast expanse of grasslands. Terran followed it past various homesteads, coming at last to a small village. Debris was thick here, blackened and reeking of smoke. Halfway through the village, a section of the river was diverted. Curious, Terran followed it. It led to a wide, circular ditch, which Terran recognized as a moat. Most probably the moat about Rhaeven's Keep. Images abruptly leapt to Terran's mind. Two figures, swimming beneath the water's surface, moving stealthily toward the drawbridge, where they seemed to wait. Terran tried to hold back the flow of water, to get a better glimpse of the figures, but he could not, and was swept past to rejoin the river as it flowed out of the village. With a sigh of frustration, he let it go, pulling his thoughts back. Dizziness claimed him, and he collapsed onto the rocky river bank. Who where the two people? What were they doing in the water? And where had they gone? He got no sense of them farther on in the river. He sat up slowly, shaking his head to clear the muddled thoughts. It took some doing to get to his feet. Three uses of magic in the last hour was taking its toll. His muscles were weak with fatigue. It took his last bit of strength to gather enough 52

firewood for the night, and he staggered back to camp, exhausted. Kamali and Vaoni were cuddled together, both asleep. Terran placed his load of wood carefully on the ground, then began a fire pit, his thoughts tumbling in worry. What would he do now? How could he go to Rhaeven's Keep with Kamali and Vaoni in tow? He knew of the warlord's fetishes. He didn't want to place either Kamali or Vaoni in danger. As Thalassa already was. He rubbed wearily at his eyes, and concentrated on starting the fire. So, Lord Rhaeven's Keep was close by. But how much was left? Had the village burned, sparing the Keep itself? Was anyone still there? And, if they were, how was he going to cross that grassland without being seen? He would need rest and magic, both of which were in small supply right now. Kamali was already asleep; there was no need to do anything about her ribs tonight. Tomorrow, he would heal them. Satisfied that the fire would not burn out, he leaned back against the saddle, looking up at Boaz. "You be my eyes and ears tonight, eh, Boaz?" The horse snorted softly as if in answer, and Terran closed his eyes. His dreams were scattered and confusing. For the first time since her death, he dreamed of Elise. She was dressed in her wedding gown, a frothy affair with layers of lace and thousands of tiny, hand-sewn pearls. She was surrounded by sunribbons in full bloom, her smile radiant. She was even more beautiful than Terran remembered, and he cried out in joy at being reunited with her. She beckoned to him, but he could not reach her. Each step he took forward, she seemed to move away. His joy turned to uncertainty, then despair. He called her name, tears blurring his vision, but still she continued to fade away. He hid his face in his hands, and wept, then started as someone touched his shoulder. His eyes snapped open. Kamali knelt beside him, her dark eyes holding both compassion and pain. He straightened, embarrassed to feel tears on his cheeks. He hastily wiped them away, before addressing her. "What is it? Are you in pain?" "Yes," she said quietly, "but my pain is small compared to yours." Terran started, unsure what to say. "I… I can pull some magic to—" "No, no need. Perhaps in the morning, when you are rested. I've dealt with my pain many times before. You have not yet dealt with yours." "Wh…what do you mean?" Kamali took his hand and turned it palm side up. She traced the lines with her fingers, sending shivers through him. "This is your Line of Heart," she said softly. "Here it shows a break. You have lost someone, someone close to you. Your Line of Fate shows that you have spent time re-adjusting to life without this love. It hasn't been easy for you. Here," she traced another line, "is your Line of Affection. It clearly shows two loves, the second of which is powerful and lasting. And this," she smiled at him, "these are your children." Terran's gaze darted to meet hers, as she continued. "Listen to your heart now, Terran. The time to grieve is past. Guilt lies only in your mind." She squeezed his hand gently, then returned to sit by Vaoni. She was asleep in moments. Terran sat staring at his hand, wondering how she could tell so much in the lines and markings on his palm. He had heard of palm-readers before, but he had never actually met one. Was what she'd said true? Was there another love for him? 53

Unbidden, his thoughts went to Thalassa. How could he ever hope to have her? Even though her husband was dead, she carried his child, she belonged to her clan. She was of the sea, he was of the earth. She would never be happy living inland, so far from the sound of the waves, the tangy salt air. Perhaps he could move, build a palace near the Diraenian coast, a place where she could feel— He shook his head. Gods! He hadn't even found her yet, and already he was making plans for them to live together. The fact was, she may have completely forgotten about him. And if she hadn't, there was no guarantee that she would want to take up where they had left off. There was no guarantee that she even cared for him, at all. At least, not the way he cared for her. He scrubbed at his face. How could he care for her? Really? He barely knew her. So he had spent three days with her, had… He closed his eyes. He shook himself. He was being grossly unfair to both her and himself. Common sense told him to go home, to forget about her, to meet with Princess Sylvia as he'd promised. He didn't even know if Thalassa was with Rhaeven. He had only supposed. Besides, what business was it of his? He would only be dragging Diraenia into a conflict between Zal and Asuria. Despite his own personal dislike of Rhaeven, he couldn't involve his whole country. Then again, what if some of those captives had, indeed, been his own countrymen? His gaze settled on the campfire. Absently, he watched the flames dance above glowing coals. Bits of wood fell away to the side, where they cooled and darkened. Such was life, Terran mused. We are born in a flash of excitement; we dance through life, only to be left alone to die. Tears once again stung at his eyes, but he made no effort to hold them back. He had cried much for the loss of Elise's young life, but he had never cried for the loss of his. He touched lightly at the lines on his hand. The line Kamali said belonged to his first love was short. The other, the second love, was long and deeply etched, curving upward. From it two strong lines emerged, one of them going halfway up his little finger. He studied them for a moment, then closed his hand into a fist. Foolishness, that's what it was. Pure foolishness. Palm-readers were gypsies, ready to tell you what you wanted to hear. He wouldn't listen, wouldn't allow such things to manipulate his emotions. He would go home. Come the morrow, he would pack up Kamali and Vaoni, and return home. He would let his father, the king, handle any conflicts with Asuria. He would marry Princess Sylvia, give Diraenia an heir, and live out his life as an empty shell. He supposed it could be worse. Perhaps, over time, he might even grow to love the princess. Perhaps. He wiped his cheeks dry, and once again lay back to sleep, but as his head touched the saddle, he suddenly became aware of the pounding of drums. Instead of the soft thumping he'd heard before, this time they were loud and insistent. Terran came to his knees in alarm. His gaze swept over the dark forest, to Kamali and Vaoni, then to Boaz. None of the three seemed to hear the noise. Terran frowned, then, remembering Vaoni's words, he placed his hand on his chest so he could feel his own heartbeat. It pounded in rhythm with the drums. His frown deepened. Vaoni had called it the Nitesh, the Heartbeat of the Land. Why was he suddenly hearing it, after twenty54

nine years? And how was Vaoni involved? Her small heart had beat in perfect tempo with both the drums and his own heart. Why? She wasn't Diraenian. She was Zal. Too many questions swarmed through his tired mind, as he reseated himself. His gaze moved again to the fire, and he stared into its yellow and orange depths. A moment later, a vision appeared, hovering just about the flames. Thalassa. Terran caught at his breath in astonishment. He hadn't scryed the vision, hadn't pulled any magic. He was too tired. Still, Thalassa was there, so real he felt he could reach out and touch her. He whispered her name, then gasped as she abruptly looked in his direction. She seemed as startled as he as their gazes met. "I know you," she whispered, her voice as clear as if she were sitting beside him. "Y…yes," he stammered. "Terran?" She drew a quick breath. "You have magic?" "I do," Terran answered. "But I… I'm not…" He swallowed, unsure what to say, how to proceed, if this was even really happening. Perhaps he was asleep, dreaming. Or had taken ill and was hallucinating. Yet, she seemed so very real. He reached out with one hand, then reeled as he touched the warm, smooth skin of her cheek. "Thalassa," he whispered, emotion choking him. "How are you doing this?" she asked, her eyes wide with both fear and wonder. "I'm not sure," Terran admitted, then blurted, "Where are you?" "I… I don't know," she stammered. "Soldiers came, they took us to Asuria. To a Keep, but we escaped. There was a fire... I'm frightened. Lord Rhaeven…" she stopped, closing her eyes as she pressed her cheek against his hand. "I've thought about you. Often. I've…I've missed you, your touch." Hope raced through him at her words. "I've missed you, as well," he whispered, then attempted to regain his composure. "I know what happened in your village. Take heart, Thalassa, I'm coming for you. I will see you free from Rhaeven's grip. I promise." "No!" she cried, her eyes snapping open. "No, don't risk yourself for me. Please." She caught up his hand and kissed the palm, then held to it tightly. "You must not endanger yourself for me, M'Lord. I couldn't stand it." "Terran!" Vaoni's shrill cry startled him, shattering the vision. Sudden, agonizing pain shot through his hand, and he yanked it away from the fire. "Oh, by the gods!" Kamali gasped, dropping down beside him. "Vaoni, quick! The waterskin!" She took hold of his wrist, looking from his red and blistered skin to his face. "What were you thinking, M'Lord?" Terran had no answer. His whole body was reeling with the pain from his burned hand. He drew a quick breath as Kamali poured cool water over it. Vaoni rapped him sharply on the head. "You should know better," she scolded. "You were too tired to do more magic." Terran wanted to protest, to tell her that it hadn't been his magic at all, that something else had provided the vision, but his pain consumed him, stayed his tongue. "What will we do, M'Lord?" Kamali asked. "Do you have any medications for this?" 55

"No," Terran managed, then glanced at Vaoni. "It appears I'll have to use a bit more magic." She frowned at him. "You'll be sorry. You said it makes you tired." "You said Thalassa was teaching you healing. Perhaps you can assist me?" Her blue eyes went wide, and a smile crossed her face. "Oh, yes! I'll try, Terran, I'll try very hard." She sat down beside him, and gently took his hand, cupping it between hers. He winced, fighting the urge to pull away, and closed his eyes. His hand stung and burned as if it was still in the flames. It brought a sheen of sweat to his face, and nausea to his gut. It scattered his thoughts, sent his concentration faltering. All he could think of, see, was Thalassa. Her kiss lingered on his palm, and he focused on it, remembering the soft touch of her lips on his flesh. Slowly, the pain began to recede, driven back by the strength of that kiss. Healing radiated outward, taking away the redness and the blisters. At last, the pain was gone, and Terran opened his eyes. Vaoni smiled at him, a glimmer of knowledge in her blue eyes. "We did it," Terran murmured. "You and I." "No, you, I and Thalassa," she whispered. "Thalassa?" Vaoni nodded. "You must rest."

He tried to speak, to ask her how she knew of Thalassa, of his vision, but he was too exhausted. His eyelids closed despite his best efforts to keep them open, and he sank into gentle sleep.

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CHAPTER 8 Thalassa moaned, then sat up with a startled gasp. Her actions immediately roused Eri, who came to a crouch, his dagger firm in his grip. For a moment, they merely looked at each other in question, then Thalassa shook her head and closed her eyes. "It was just a dream, Eri," she mumbled. "I'm sorry I scared you." "A dream?" He moved closer, and rested a hand on her brow. "You've got a fever." Thalassa was not surprised, considering the filth she and Eri had gone through to escape. But what worried her more than the fever was the periodic tightening of her abdomen. It was too early to have the baby; she had a month left. And she wouldn't have it here, in the middle of the forest, in a land that she couldn't even call her own. She opened her eyes to look at Eri. "How far is it to Sinclair?" He peered into the sky, as if judging by the stars. "Maybe one to two days' walk." "Which direction?" "North and west. Why?" West, Thalassa thought wearily. And Zal was east. Zal and home. Or what was left of it. Still, she had promised Eri that she would help him rescue Sinclair. She intended to keep that promise. Then, she would go home, have her baby, and die. She closed her eyes again, unable to stop the tears that pushed through her lashes. "M'Lady," Eri whispered, stroking her cheek gently, "what is it? Are you in pain?" "No, Eri, not really. It's just that…" She paused, once more seeing Terran's face in her mind. "I was only thinking about someone I once knew, someone very kind and gentle. I just wish I could see him again, that's all." "Him?" Eri sounded a little disappointed. Thalassa looked up at him, amused. "I told you, Eri, you are too young for me. I am old before my time. Enjoy your youth, Eri, and your freedom." He blushed, then grinned. "You can't blame me for trying," he said, then rose with a sigh. "I'm going for a little more wood. I'd like to keep this fire going through the night." "Wait." Thalassa stopped him. "Why don't we continue on? I'm not sleepy, anyway." Eri frowned. "But you're sick. You should rest." Thalassa paused, not wanting to tell him the truth. She didn't want to go back to sleep, didn't want to see Terran's face in her dreams, didn't want to admit even to herself how much she wanted to see him again. It hurt too much to know that it would never be. She struggled to her feet. "I can rest later. For now, let's walk." Eri studied her for a long moment. "M'Lady, much as I wish to reach Lord Sinclair, I will not do so at the risk of you or your child. Please, lie down. At the least, try to sleep." Thalassa sighed, knowing he was right. She was exhausted, and hot with fever. She sagged back down on the bough bed that Eri had crafted for her. He sat beside her, relief evident on his face. He picked up her shawl, and wrapped it about her 57

shoulders. "I wish I had something to ease your fever," he said softly. "And something that would help you to sleep. I know this is not comfortable for you, in your condition." For some reason, that amused her, and she gave a quiet laugh. "I was never much of one for sleeping out of doors," she admitted. "There was only one time when I found it…acceptable." She flushed, her mind drifting back to those three nights, eight months ago. "Look at the sky, Terran," she whispered, lying back in the tall grasses. "Have you ever seen so many stars? Isn't it beautiful?" "Aye, very beautiful," Terran replied. Thalassa giggled. "You're not even looking at them." He smiled, and traced her jaw with one, long finger. "But what I am looking at is far more beautiful." His touch moved down her neck, along her bare shoulder. "Ah, a poet and a bard," she teased. "A bard? Hardly." He laughed at the words. "Does not a bard bring happiness and joy to others?" she asked. Terran hesitated. "I suppose." "Then, M'Lord, you are truly a bard," she whispered, and pulled him to her yet again. "M'Lady?" Eri's voice brought her back to the fore with a start. She shot him a quick glance. He looked at her with a knowing smile, which only furthered the flush on her cheeks. "You must have been with him those nights to remember it so fondly," the boy said softly. She couldn't help but smile, though it was a smile touched with sadness. "Yes, Eri, I was. And now the gods punish me for my lack of virtue." He shook his head. "No, Thalassa, your sickness is not from the gods. At least, not from the gods that I worship." "Perhaps Diraenia and Zal have different gods then," Thalassa returned, her mood sinking into despair. Eri sighed, and brushed the hair from her forehead. "I don't think so, M'Lady. Please, go to sleep." But Thalassa refused, not wanting to allow her thoughts to focus on Terran. She touched lightly at Eri's arm. "Have you given any thought as to how we will rescue Lord Sinclair?" He paused, then nodded. "With your magic." "My magic?" She eyed him in surprise. "But, Eri, my magic isn't strong enough to breach a Keep. If it were, I would have–" She broke off, suddenly realizing that it wasn't her magic he spoke of, but rather the whistle. She shook her head, one hand closing about the jewelry. "No, Eri, you can't rely on this. I told you, it doesn't even work." "We can try," Eri said. "Perhaps the dragon can hear it, and flies because of it." "If that is true, then the dragon flies in anger. I'm not sure that I want to be the cause of that anger." 58

"It's our only chance," Eri insisted. "If the dragon can create enough of a distraction, I can get inside and get Lord Sinclair out. I know where he is in the Keep. I know how to get him out. I just need a little help." Thalassa closed her eyes in resignation. "Seems to me that a dragon spewing fire and death all about is more hindrance than help." "And yet, the same helped us to escape," Eri pointed out. Thalassa had to agree with that. Still, the thought of seeing the dragon once more sent chills racing along her spine. She had seen the way the great beast had searched the landscape, as if looking for the perpetrator of its flight. Thalassa wasn't sure she wanted to be found. She opened her eyes, and looked at Eri. "Perhaps you could call the dragon, then," she suggested. "You're Diraenian, she's your Dragon Goddess. Perhaps she would be a little more forgiving, were you the one calling her out." Eri grimaced. "I don't think she would answer to me." "Why not?" Eri was quiet for a moment, then moved away to put more wood on the fire. "It's said that the Dragon Goddess chooses her own…priestess…to command her. I'm hardly a priestess." "And I am?" Thalassa shot back in shock. Eri cast her a sideways glance. "Apparently." Sudden anger flew through Thalassa, though what it claimed as its source, she wasn't sure. She knew only that Eri's words sent a chill of trepidation through her. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the sudden pounding of drums that seemed to echo all around her. But it did no good, they matched to the rhythm of her heart, growing louder and louder with each beat. Finally, she covered her ears, and screamed for the pounding to stop. Eri started, surging to his feet in alarm. Thalassa looked up at him, tears blurring her vision. "Don't you hear it?" she cried. "Can't you hear the pounding?" Eri stared at her, wide-eyed. "Pounding?" "The drums! The incessant beat of the drums!" His gaze moved about the dark forest, then returned to her. He shook his head. "I hear nothing, Thalassa." A muffled roar of frustration escaped her, and she threw herself backward onto the bough bed. The baby kicked unhappily, which sent her abdomen into another tight spasm. She moaned, and gently massaged her belly, waiting for the sensation to pass. Eri knelt beside her, his face pale in the firelight. "The baby?" he whispered. "No, no, it's all right," Thalassa assured him, though her words sounded vacant. "I… I think this is normal, a way for the body to prepare for childbirth. But, Eri, it is getting close now. I have to return to Zal soon." "Why Zal?" "Because it's my home," she replied softly. "It's all I have." She gripped his arm, her mind racing. "Eri, if I die, don't leave me here, in Asuria. Take me home, to Zal. Bury me in the sea." Eri's face crumpled into a mask of despair and disgust. "You're not going to die," he murmured. 59

"You don't know that. Just promise me you'll take me home." He was silent for a moment, then looked away. "I'm tired, M'Lady. We both need sleep." "Eri! Promise me!" Thalassa snapped, with more anger than she'd intended. The boy eyed her briefly, then moved to his own bed, where he curled up, his back to her. "It's a promise I can't make," he said. "I may not live long enough to keep it. I'm sorry." The words bit into Thalassa's heart. She stared at Eri's back for a moment, then closed her eyes. Unbidden, Terran's image once more appeared. She remembered his words, how he had said he was coming to help her, and she prayed that it had not only been a dream, after all. *** Terran woke the next morning, feeling immeasurably better. His strength had returned, though he could not shake the vision he had seen the previous night. His hand was completely healed, which only added to his confusion. Had it really happened? Had he really talked with, seen, touched, Thalassa? His gaze drifted to Kamali and Vaoni, who still slept. A carefully placed spell would keep them in a state of slumber for several hours yet, while he completed his mission. He had to verify Thalassa's statement, that she was no longer at Rhaeven's Keep. The only way to do so was to go there himself, see for himself. But he would not leave Kamali and Vaoni unprotected. A strong WardSpell would deter any sort of predator, beast or man. He drew a deep breath, and reached again for his magic. It seemed easier today for some reason. Perhaps the rest had done him good, or perhaps he was simply getting used to using magic. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. With the WardSpell in place, he turned to Boaz, who waited patiently nearby. Though the Crystal of Speed was now depleted, Terran knew that the great stallion had resources of his own to draw from. Quietly, he swung into the saddle, then with a last look at Kamali and Vaoni, he turned Boaz toward the Keep. They reached the grasslands in late morning. Terran reined up briefly and cast his gaze over the still-smoking ruins of the village. It was quiet, devoid of life. Not even a stray animal lurked about. Terran's gaze moved over the blackened cottages and burned-out stables, then spurred Boaz on. He reached the village without challenge. There was no one left to do so. He moved warily through the streets, watching for any sign of life, of movement, but reached the Keep grounds unhindered. The drawbridge was down; no guards stood at their posts. Terran paused, and dismounted. He drew his sword, and led Boaz onto the drawbridge. Halfway across, he was suddenly seized with the same vision he had seen in the water—that of two figures lurking beneath the drawbridge. He turned, his gaze sweeping the moat, though he saw nothing. With a shake of his head, he continued across and entered the courtyard. It was deserted. He hooked the horse's reins across the pommel. "Here, Boaz," he said softly. "Stay." Slowly, cautiously, he entered the Keep, then reeled at the stench of decaying 60

bodies left open to the air. He covered his mouth and nose with his kerchief, and went from room to room. Servants lay cut down at their tasks, or huddled into corners as if trying to escape their slayer's wrath. Blood pooled on the stone floor, and spattered the walls. Whatever madness had gone on rampage here, it had been vicious. Terran climbed the stairs, slowly, on the alert. The first room he came to looked as if it had housed either Rhaeven or his brother. The opulence was garish in color and taste. A figure covered to the chin with heavy blankets lay in the large, canopied bed. Terran approached cautiously, then started. Adrick! There was no question that the man was dead, and Terran backed away, his mind whirling with questions. He had thought Lord Adrick and Lord Rhaeven had been responsible for the carnage in the Keep, but if Adrick were dead…He frowned, puzzled, and returned to the hallway. He continued to investigate each room he found. Most were empty; a few had the remains of servants. It was the last room that drew his attention. A large pool of dried blood stained the wooden floor, bits of shattered ceramic close by. It was a woman's room, furnished only with a bed, nightstand and wardrobe, yet somehow bearing a feminine touch. Terran sidestepped the blood, and touched at the bed. Immediately, images leapt to his mind. Thalassa had been here, housed in this very room. His gaze flew to the dried blood in horror. Hers? He bent and touched at the dried blood with one finger, then rose and made his way down the stairs, and back into the courtyard. Boaz snorted and eyed him anxiously, obviously eager to be away from this bloodbath. Terran sighed, and guided Boaz from the Keep. Once across the drawbridge, he hunkered down by the water. It was difficult to gain control of his shaken emotions, to call up his magic to scrye, but at last, he managed a faint image. The two figures that had lurked in the water suddenly became visible and clear. Thalassa and… Terran started in surprise. Eri! His brother's squire. Terran rose, his heart hammering in confusion. What was Eri doing here? He had disappeared with Sinclair more than a year ago. Yet, here he was, with Thalassa. If he were alive… Terran shook his head in puzzlement. For a moment, he merely stared at the water, then, with a deep breath of resolve, he again reached for his magic. He had tried dozens of times to scrye for his younger brother, always meeting with failure. Sinclair had magic of his own, which oftentimes he used to avoid detection. It was no secret that he had left Diraenia after a squabble with King Liam. The two rarely saw eye to eye on political matters. But the argument had not been politics, at all. Rather, it had been a woman – a woman Liam had made no pretense about disliking. "There is no reason I should go on this mission," Sinclair snapped. "You are my son," Liam retorted. "That is reason enough!" "Father, perhaps –" Terran had tried to intervene in the dispute. "Silence, Terran!" Liam roared. "Your brother must take on his own responsibility as a member of this family." "Marna is sick, Father," Sinclair said, his voice tight with anger. "I cannot leave her at this time." Liam turned away. "The sea woman has been ill since you have known her, 61

Sinclair. Nothing will change in that." Terran shot a glance at his younger brother, and saw the rage building in the handsome features. "She is not 'the sea woman'," Sinclair seethed. "Her name is Marna. You'd best get used to it. She will one day be your daughter-in-law." Liam stiffened, though he did not turn to face the young men. "You have one hour to prepare. Your escorts will be waiting." Without another look, he stormed from the room, slamming the door on the way out. Marna had been from Zal, and though she had died from the Sickness, Sinclair had blamed his father. Sinclair had gone on the mission, as ordered. While he was gone, Marna had died. Sinclair had never forgiven his father for that, nor had he forgiven the king for his lack of grief at Marna's passing. Indeed, Liam had almost seemed relieved. Terran grimaced. If the king were loath to allow his youngest son, who had a small claim to the throne, to mate with a woman of Zal, what would he do to keep Thalassa from Terran's side? Terran shook the unpleasant thoughts aside, and concentrated on his magic, reaching for his brother. Instead, it was Eri who came into the vision. Startled, Terran watched as the boy extended his hand to someone. Terran drew back on the vision, then let out a gasp when Thalassa came into view. She looked fatigued and uncomfortable, and sat down beside Eri with a noticeable sigh. Her lips moved as if she spoke, and Eri shushed her quickly. Terran frowned, wondering why. Again, he expanded the scrye vision. A stone building came into view. It was surrounded by a wide moat, and guarded by numerous soldiers, all well-armed. Terran recognized the banners affixed to the towers at once—a black raven on a red background. A secondary Keep! Terran had not known of its existence. Terran drew a deep breath, widening the scrye, trying to get an idea of where the Keep was situated. Again, he was surprised. The Keep was built as an extension of the very rock in the mountains bordering Diraenia. It was practically invisible to any passing view. Anger coursed through Terran at this brazen display of contempt shown by Rhaeven. The borders had always been off limits, as far as such structures. It was an agreement in the treaty between Asuria and Diraenia. Again, thoughts of war clouded Terran's mind. His gaze returned to Eri and Thalassa. Eri was gesturing to the Keep now, and speaking to Thalassa. She didn't appear to be happy with whatever he was saying, and sudden understanding swept through Terran, chilling him to the bone. Eri was planning to breach the Keep!

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CHAPTER 9 Thalassa gripped Eri's arm, pure panic seizing her. "This is a stupid idea, Eri," she whispered, her voice fierce and hard. "You'll do nothing more than get yourself killed." "I have to try, M'Lady," he returned, though his face was pale, his dark eyes wide with fear as he studied the Keep. Thalassa followed his gaze. "Why are there so many guards? Are there usually this many?" "No," Eri admitted. He sat back against the log they huddled behind. "Rhaeven must be here." The words sent a chill through Thalassa. "Here? Why would he be here?" Eri paused, his face darkening with anger. "Because his other Keep was destroyed. This is all he has left. And by now, he's been apprised of my escape." Thalassa gasped, her gaze again moving to the stony Keep. "You escaped from there? Then what were you doing in Zal?" "I wasn't in Zal, M'Lady. I was trying to find the passage through the mountains back to Diraenia. I went east, looking. I probably should have gone west. Again, I failed." Thalassa looked back at him. "You have failed no one, Eri. Certainly not Sinclair." For a long moment, neither of them spoke, then Thalassa asked that which she feared to know the answer to. "Eri, what will Rhaeven do to us if he catches us?" The boy shot her a quick, sidelong glance before answering. "He's not going to catch you, M'Lady. I'll see to that." "Be realistic, here," she pressed. "The two of us against his whole army?" "Not just the two of us, M'Lady. Remember Aki." Thalassa closed her eyes in frustration. "Yes, Aki. The great dragon that will make all of this possible. That will allow you, a mere boy, to slip past armed guards and rescue a prisoner. Then we shall all make good our escape by riding the back of the dragon to safety." Eri scowled at her. "Don't mock me." Thalassa sighed. "I don't mean to, Eri. I mean only to make you see the folly of this plan. It is no more than suicide." "I have to try," Eri murmured, looking away. He hesitated as if uncertain he should say more, then spoke anyway. "Sinclair is more than my friend, my master. He is the youngest son of King Liam of Diraenia." Thalassa stared at him, aghast. "A prince?" she breathed. "Aye, a prince." It took Thalassa a moment to find her voice. She gripped Eri's arm. "Then why doesn't his father come for him? He would have his own troops to help. We should be going to the King, not trying this ourselves." "I was on my way to the King when I was captured," Eri told her. "But it is as I told you. There is no more time. Lord Sinclair was very weak when I left him. I… I'm not sure that he still…" He shook his head as if to dislodge painful thoughts. "He's been here for year, tormented and brutalized. I did the best I could in helping 63

him, but…" Thalassa sagged, feeling Eri's despair like a knife's edge. Still, she couldn't bear the thought of him being caught or killed. "But if he's that weak, Eri, how will you get him out of the Keep? You can't carry him." "I don't know!" Eri suddenly snapped, surging to his feet. He raked one hand through his unruly dark hair, and spun to once more face the Keep in the distance. "By the gods, Thalassa, I don't know. But I gave him my word. I promised. I can't go back on that promise. Even if he is dead, I promised I would get him out of there, that I would take him home." He dropped to his knees before her, and caught up both of her hands. "Please, M'Lady, please, try calling the dragon. It's the only chance Lord Sinclair has. Please." Thalassa looked deep into his eyes, saw the grief and despair, and her heart broke. She nodded. "All right, Eri, for what it's worth, I'll try." He gave a quick smile, then leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "That's all I can ask. Thank you." She pulled the whistle out from beneath her blouse. "When shall I blow it? Where will you be? Where will you take Sinclair?" Eri motioned toward a thick copse of trees to his left. "I'll go there. When you see me wave, call Aki. I will wait for her to arrive, then make my way to the Keep. After freeing Lord Sinclair, I'll bring him back the same direction." "You make it sound so easy," she whispered. "I must believe that it will be," Eri returned. "And then?" Thalassa asked. "What then, Eri? Where will we go? How will we escape Rhaeven?" Eri averted his gaze. "We'll have to think on that when we get to that point," he said softly. He dropped the pack beside her. "I'll go now. Watch for my signal." "Eri!" Thalassa got clumsily to her feet. For a second, she was silent, then she hugged Eri to her. "Godspeed, Eri. Come back to me. We've a peach tree to plant." He managed a small smile. "I know," he whispered, then moved away. Thalassa watched him disappear into the woods. She closed her eyes, and prayed again for his safety, though she held out little hope for survival for any of them. Her hand strayed to her belly, and she stroked it absently. Her one wish was that she could at least see the child before she died; just see and hold her child once. Tears stinging her eyes, she sat down and trained her gaze on the copse of trees. One hand worried the whistle, the other subconsciously acknowledged the baby's kicking. It was only moments later that she saw Eri step forward and wave to her. With an inner prayer for guidance, she put the whistle to her lips, and blew. *** Terran leaned low over Boaz's neck, encouraging the stallion to run. The horse, however, needed no coaxing. He seemed to sense that something was wrong, and raced through the forest, towards Vaoni and Kamali. Still, they were a half-day away. Terran was torn between returning to the camp, or using the last of his magic, and trying to reach Eri. Reason told him that he would never make it in time, yet what he thought to do once reunited with Kamali and Vaoni was unclear. 64

He knew only that his gut, and Boaz, wanted to ensure the safety of woman and child. Terran was stunned by the thought of what Eri intended to do, but even more stunned by the implications of his actions. There could be only one reason why the boy would risk his own life to re-enter the Keep. Sinclair. There was never any denying that Sinclair had chosen well when he accepted Eri as first his page, then his squire. There was nothing that Eri wouldn't do in the service of his lord. The thought brought both admiration and disgust to Terran. He abhorred the thought of being so elevated in the eyes of others that they began to devalue their own lives. On the other hand, having a friend like Eri was a rare occurrence. Of all the people who could have accompanied Thalassa, Eri was both the best and the worst choice. While Terran knew that the boy would protect her with his life, he had also placed her into a position of danger, a position that Terran had to correct. If he could. Boaz slowed his gait, apparently recognizing that he was close to the camp. Terran guided him forward, then drew back on the reins in shock. Kamali and Vaoni were gone. Terran dismounted, drawing his sword in the same movement. His gaze flicked over the camp, to the trees, and back. Everything was as he'd left it, though the WardSpell had been shattered. The small campfire still burned, looking as if it had just recently been stoked with fresh wood. Terran listened carefully to the sounds around him. It was the normal chatter of forest creatures, overlaid with the gentle shushing of the river. He studied the ground about the camp. No hoofprints but those of Boaz marred the surface. No footprints save those of Kamali, Vaoni and himself. They led to the river. Terran followed warily. It was there he found Kamali. She lay on the riverbank, one hand in the cold water, her face pressed onto rock and mud. Terran rushed to her side, quickly assessed her for injuries, then gently rolled her onto her back. He scooped up a handful of water, dabbed lightly at her pale cheeks, then pulled a small bit of magic to help her wake. She came to with a gasp and a cry of alarm. Her panic eased at the sight of Terran, though she clutched his arm in a fierce grip. "Vaoni! I can't find Vaoni!" she cried. Terran's gut knotted. "What happened? You were both in a WardSpell. Who broke it?" "I… I don't know. I didn't know there was a spell. I woke to find you gone. I started breakfast, sure you would return shortly, but when Vaoni woke, she grew frightened. She wanted to go and search for you, but I wouldn't let her." "What are you doing here, by the river?" Kamali turned to gaze at the water, confusion on her face. "I… I don't know." She struggled to sit up with Terran's help. "I followed Vaoni. I must have slipped and fell." She rubbed tenderly at her head, then winced. Terran looked, as well. "You've a nasty bump, all right. Can you sit without help?" She nodded, and Terran moved toward the water, his gut churning with as much force as the rapids. If Vaoni had fallen into the water…He shuddered. She was far too small, the water far too cold. He hunkered down at river's edge. It would be a 65

stretch to use magic. Already his muscles were complaining loudly, demanding rest. But he had to find Vaoni, and there was no other way, but through magic. Wearily, he pulled what he could, and cast his scrye spell. Nothing happened. No vision appeared in the water. He frowned and tried again with the same results. Was he that fatigued? He steeled his determination, and tried a third time. Still, he could not pull up an image of the little girl. Frustrated and frightened, he directed his thoughts to Eri in a test of his magic. At once, a vision appeared in the water, and Terran gasped. The Keep was under attack. Soldiers, armed with both longbow and crossbow, had taken up positions all along the parapet. Arrows flew, aimed not at the ground, but into the air. Fires burned in the grasses about the Keep, and at least one smoldered on the rooftops of the Keep itself. Soldiers rushed to put it out, hauling buckets of water from the nearby river. Still, more fires leapt to life. Terran relaxed the vision, and cried out in astonishment and awe. Aki, the great white dragon, soared about the Keep, spewing fire with each pass, tearing bits of the Keep apart with her massive claws. Terran could see the rage in her eyes, the fierce hatred. He wondered why she attacked, what the warlord had done to incur the dragon's wrath. "M'Lord?" Kamali murmured, touching his shoulder. The vision shattered. Terran fell back, fatigued and frightened. Somewhere in that mayhem were people he loved—Thalassa, Eri and possibly Sinclair. And somewhere out here, Vaoni was lost. Though he desperately wanted to help those at the Keep, he couldn't ride off and abandon Vaoni. His gaze went to Boaz, who had followed him to the river, and now plucked at the tender, young grass growing alongside. The horse seemed calm, not anxious as he'd been before when Vaoni was in trouble. Terran frowned and straightened. "Boaz," he called. "Where's Vaoni? Find Vaoni." Though the stallion looked up at him, the animal did not move. Instead, he nickered softly, then went back to eating. Terran's frown deepened. "Can the horse help?" Kamali asked, astonishment in her eyes. "I had hoped. He seemed to know that Vaoni was in danger with your husband. The way he's acting now, though…" He shook his head in confusion, then sighed. "Let's go back to camp. We'll pack up, then go in search. Perhaps she will return, in the meantime. Maybe she just wandered off to collect flowers or…" His words trailed off, sounding hollow even to him. Kamali nodded, and rose, swaying unsteadily. Terran caught at her, and she leaned into him. Her dark hair brushed against his face, and he was reminded of the nights he had spent holding Thalassa. "Your hair is as soft as angel's wings." Thalassa giggled. "And you have touched angel's wings, M'Lord?" Terran smiled and gathered her close. He kissed her forehead gently. "I have touched a very angel, herself," he whispered. "I am still not sure if you are real, or only a gift sent from the Gods to assuage my grief." Thalassa looked up at him thoughtfully. "You say you have lost someone you love, but you have not said yet what sort of love this was." Terran sighed and released her, his guilt overwhelming him. He could not bring himself to tell her. Elise had been dead only days, and here he was seeking comfort 66

in the arms of another woman. He turned away, lest she see the pain in his eyes. For a moment, Thalassa was quiet, and Terran feared that he had alienated her with his actions. Then he felt her arms go around his waist, and she laid her cheek against his bare back. "I am sorry for your loss," she said quietly. "And I am guilty for taking advantage of it." He twisted in her arms to face her. "You take advantage of nothing, M'Lady. It is I who should be guilty. I am the one seeking solace in your arms, your touch. This is not fair to you." Thalassa smiled up at him. "Then I would wish that you continue to be unfair, M'Lord," she whispered, and brought her lips to meet his. He took a deep breath, put one arm about Kamali, and supported her back to camp. Once there, he lowered her gently to the ground, then busied himself with getting his supplies repacked, all the while trying to put thoughts of Thalassa from his mind, and not succeeding. He needed to find her, to help her, to be with her. Yet, Vaoni needed him just as desperately. "M'Lord?" Kamali said quietly, seeming to read his inner turmoil. "Perhaps I could stay here while you search. If—" "No!" Terran interrupted at once. "No, then I would be worried over you, as well. We shall search together." Kamali hesitated before voicing her thoughts. "M'Lord, I truly appreciate all you've done for me, but I don't want to become a burden to you." "A burden?" He managed a smile. "You are no burden, Kamali. Come, we'll find Vaoni together." He extended his hand to her, but she hesitated. "M'Lord, I know your heart searches for another besides Vaoni. I don't wish to keep you from that search any longer. If I am to make it alone in this world, I need to start somewhere." Terran studied her for a moment, drinking in the beauty that lay beneath the bruises. "You do not need to start here," he said softly, and encouraged her to stand, his own thoughts whirling in confusion. Why was he chasing after a vision when such warmth and compassion was within his very grasp? He didn't even know for sure that what he had seen and felt through the flames was real. Had Thalassa really said she missed him? Or was it only his own yearnings that created the words, the image? Kamali eyed him in question, but said nothing more. "Come, up on Boaz," he said, his voice strangely flat and loud. He lifted Kamali into the saddle, then swung up behind her. The touch of her warm, soft body against his sent his emotions reeling, and he caught up the reins. "Come, Boaz, find Vaoni." The stallion hesitated, then started off at a slow, steady pace away from the river. Terran frowned, puzzled, but let the horse have its head. Perhaps Vaoni had simply wandered off into the forest. That brought guarded relief to Terran. The forest might be easier to survive than a ride in the turbulent river. Still, there were wild animals. He prodded Boaz to move faster, but the horse seemed determined to pick his way carefully through the underbrush, which only served to increase Terran's frustration. They traveled at the steady, slow gait until early evening, 67

when Boaz abruptly stopped. No amount of coaxing could make him continue. Reluctantly, Terran dismounted, then helped Kamali down. "All right, Boaz," he said, his voice tight with annoyance, "you're having your way. It would be nice were you to inform me of your reasons." Kamali eyed him in question. "You can understand your horse?" Terran turned to her, startled, then gave a small smile. "Not his language, just his moods. I must say, I'm not sure I understand his mood at the moment, however. Before, when Vaoni was in trouble, there was nothing that could stop him from returning to her side." He regarded the horse thoughtfully, then reached for his pack, just as a rush of wind stirred the treetops. Boaz suddenly snorted, lifted his head, and danced away. Terran made a grab for the reins, but the horse easily outmaneuvered him, and trotted into the surrounding forest. "Boaz!" Terran cried. "Stop!" It was quickly apparent that the horse was not going to listen. Terran took Kamali's hand, irritation driving his tongue. "Come on!" he snapped, and pulled her after him. They followed the horse through the undergrowth, pushing aside bramble-filled bushes, and stepping carefully over nettle-strewn patches of greenery. Terran's anger increased with each step, and he was about to let the horse go on alone, when the animal suddenly stopped, and pawed anxiously at the ground. He darted forward a few steps, then danced back again. Terran approached him cautiously, then started at the rush of water close by. His heart froze in terror. Had Vaoni, indeed, been carried away by the turbulent river? Terran released Kamali's hand and hurried forward, pressing through a tight bramble brush that Boaz could not navigate. He came out on a wide ledge. The river snarled before him, disappearing over a drop in a froth of white. Terran clung to the brush, his gaze darting over the rocky banks, then gasped in horror. Vaoni lay curled up on the cold rock, nude, her hair mussed, her small body shivering in the cool evening breeze. Terran rushed forward, and dropped down beside the little girl. "M'Lord?" Kamali called, stepping onto the ledge. She let out a cry at seeing Vaoni's limp form. "Oh, M'Lord, is she…" Her words fell short. "No," Terran cut her off. "Watch her. I'm going for my pack." "I've brought it," Kamali said, holding it out. "I…I don't know why. Boaz, he…" She stopped with a shrug. Terran gave her a grateful smile, and took the pack. He didn't doubt her words, that Boaz had encouraged her to follow him with the pack, although he still couldn't understand why the horse was so in tune with a little girl he'd only just met. Terran yanked a blanket from the pack and draped it over Vaoni before gently turning her on her back. Kamali cried out in horror. Blood stained the little girl's right shoulder, which had laid against the rock. Terran grabbed up the waterskin, wet a cloth, and gently cleaned away the blood, his jaw tight with rage. Though the wound no longer bled, it gaped, the edges clean and well delineated. This was not caused by a fall of any kind, but a deliberate act of violence with something sharp and cleanedged, such as a dagger or an arrow. He glanced about, but saw no evidence of anything. His gaze returned to the rock Vaoni lay upon, and a frown creased his 68

brow. There was little blood on the gray stone, not near enough that would come from a wound such as this. He touched her hair, but found it dry. It was obvious she had not fallen into the river, at all. How, then, could she have sustained such an injury, and not bled to death? His jaw tightened, wondering what other injuries she might have. "Can you heal it?" Kamali whispered. Terran gave a terse nod, though his muscles screamed otherwise, reminding him of how much magic he had used in the last few days. He was exhausted, both mentally and physically, yet he would not turn his back on Vaoni, no matter the cost to himself. Still… "Kamali, whomever did this to Vaoni might still be close by. Before I heal her, I need to set up a WardSpell to protect you both in case I lose consciousness." "But can you do that, and still have magic left to heal her, M'Lord?" Kamali asked. "I have to," he returned. He reached for his magic, but was startled by a whinny from Boaz. The horse sounded agitated. Terran handed the pack back to Kamali, and gently scooped Vaoni into his arms. The little girl let out a soft moan, though she did not awaken. Terran carried her carefully back through the brush to where Boaz waited. The horse snorted softly, approached and snuffled in Vaoni's hair, all hints of unease now gone. Terran's frown of puzzlement increased. He had never seen the horse act this way. He scanned the small clearing, finally spotting a large piece of granite that jutted from the earth. It was a strong stone; it would provide the base for a strong WardSpell. He hoped. He laid Vaoni down gently on the needle-softened ground, straightened, then went to the stone and hunkered down beside it. He looked up at Boaz, wondering if he had the strength to include the horse in the spell. He made his decision quickly. If Boaz was harmed in any way, their only mode of transportation out of this vile place would be gone. Besides, if he left the horse outside of the WardSpell, who knew how Boaz would react? Terran shifted his position, and reached for his magic. It came grudgingly, as if it knew he was too tired to manipulate it. He closed his eyes and concentrated, holding his hands above the rock. Slowly, he raised them, then spread his arms wide, and brought them back down to his side. Twice he faltered, and had to repeat the moves, but at last the Ward was in place. Nausea picked at his gut, and it took him several moments to convince himself that he was not going to faint. Reeling, he stood and staggered to Vaoni, where he collapsed. Kamali reached out to steady him. Her touch seemed to give him renewed strength, and he was again struck with her mere presence. Shaking off any thoughts of emotional attachment, he concentrated his thoughts on Vaoni. Once again, he closed his eyes and reached for his magic. It deftly eluded him. He took a deep breath and tried again. The results were the same. Despair gnawed at his gut, and he pleaded silently for help. His thoughts swirled, confused and disorganized. He was vaguely aware of the pounding of drums in the distance, and he tried to shake the sound from his exhausted mind. But the pounding would not cease, growing louder and louder, more insistent, seeming to shake the very ground he sat on. Frustration tore through him. He tried to rise, and found he could not. It was as if he were paralyzed, frozen to the earth. He tried to open his eyes, 69

but could not do that either. All sound was drowned out by the beat of the drums. It filled his senses, quickening his breath, until he was panting in the same rhythm. He was aware of how hard his heart was beating, as if tired of the confines of his chest. And suddenly an image of Thalassa was there – hovering before him, so real he felt he could touch her. He tried to ignore her, because he didn't want thoughts of her to interfere with what he should be doing, but the image would not leave.

Instead, it cleared, showing him a hazy glade, softened at the edges by either clouds or smoke. Thalassa was there, kneeling on the ground. He saw himself now, walking toward her, Vaoni in his arms. He knelt, and placed Vaoni on the ground between them. Thalassa smiled reassuringly and reached for his hand. He gave it, puzzled. She locked her fingers with his, and placed both their hands on Vaoni's wound. He felt the magic reach for him. A shudder of pain ran the length of his body. He stiffened, drawing in one, quick breath, before a sudden burst of bright light exploded all around him. He cried out as a white-hot fire flooded his senses, tore through his body, and escaped through his hand. He heard Kamali give a terrified shriek, heard Vaoni gasp. His gaze darted to Thalassa, but she only sighed, then all went still and black.

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CHAPTER 10 Thalassa stirred, opened her eyes, then bolted upright. The action sent her abdomen into a tight contraction that took her breath away. She tilted her head back and took deep calming breaths, waiting for the sensation to subside. When it did, her gaze darted over her surroundings in confusion. She expected to see Terran and…and…she shook her head. There was someone else, but she could no longer remember whom. She looked at her hand, which tingled as if just coming awake. Then the dream fled, and she became aware that she was sitting on a wide ledge, halfway up a rocky mountain slope. Far below, she could see smoke spiraling into the air. She had no idea how she had gotten here, and she twisted to see what lay at her back. A gasp escaped her. Eri lay crumpled against the stone, and next to him a dark-haired man who could only be Sinclair. Both were unconscious and bloodied. Thalassa choked on a sob and crawled to Eri. She shook him gently. "Wake up," she begged, "please, wake up." He groaned softly, and his eyelids fluttered open. For a moment, he stared up at her in puzzlement, then quickly sat up, clutching her by both arms in obvious relief. Just as swiftly, he noticed Sinclair, and cried out. "M'Lord! M'Lord Sinclair!" Blood saturated the man's shirt, and Eri tore it aside to reveal the man's chest. He sat back, obviously perplexed. No wound marred the prince's skin. "How can this be?" he murmured. "He is bloodied, yet is not injured." Thalassa peered at the man, then looked to Eri. "You're bloodied, as well. Are you injured?" "Me?" Eri looked down at his own chest, his own stained clothing, then shook his head. "No, no, I'm not." He looked into her eyes. "You? Are you all right?" Thalassa nodded uncertainly, her hand straying to her abdomen. Eri's gaze followed the motion, but before he could question her on it, Sinclair moaned and shifted. Eri whirled toward the prince. "M'Lord?" Sinclair opened his eyes. He blinked several times, trembling. "Eri?" His voice was hoarse, quiet. "Is it really you? "Aye, M'Lord, 'tis I." Eri brushed Sinclair's dark hair from his eyes. "I was afraid it was but a dream," Sinclair mumbled. He sat up slowly, welcoming Eri's help. His dark gaze darted over the hillside, the burning Keep in the distance. He turned back to Eri. "How? How did you accomplish this?" Eri gestured to Thalassa. "It was she. Thalassa did it." "No," Thalassa said quickly. "No, it wasn't me." Sinclair was quiet a moment, in which he studied Thalassa thoughtfully. "You called Aki?" "No!" Thalassa cried at once. "Yes," Eri countered softly. "You called her, she came." Thalassa's hand closed about the whistle, her thoughts spinning backward. The dragon had come, had breathed her fires of destruction, had sent Rhaeven's soldiers fleeing in terror. Thalassa had witnessed it all, had seen Eri stumble from the Keep, supporting Sinclair. She had watched as Aki had suddenly dived toward the ground, then plucked both Sinclair and Eri up in one giant clawed forelimb. 71

Thalassa had rushed forward in terror, then froze when Aki drove straight toward her. The last thing she remembered was being gripped in Aki's other claw. She looked again at her surroundings. Eri's voice startled her. "She brought us here," he said. "I remember now. I thought she would kill us both, but she saved us instead." He looked at Thalassa. "She saved you." Thalassa covered her face in despair, then started when Eri touched her. "M'Lady?" he quizzed. She shook her head, and got slowly to her feet. The view from the cliff was extensive, though disheartening. "Eri, look," she breathed, pointing. He stood and followed her gesture. Far below, a contingent of horsemen were thundering across the plains. They seemed to know exactly where they were headed, and Thalassa shrank back, sure they could see her. "Rhaeven?" Sinclair asked, his voice sour. Eri frowned, nodding. "Of course. He will not stop until he has you once more in his grasp. We have to go on." He turned and looked at the rocky slopes around them. "M'Lord, do you know where we are?" Sinclair's gaze flicked about. "This looks to be the border of Asuria and Diraenia." Sudden pain tore through Thalassa's abdomen, and she gasped, doubling over. Eri caught at her with a cry of alarm. He helped her sit, and Sinclair moved closer. Without a word, he placed one hand on her abdomen, now tight with a contraction. "Don't hold your breath," he instructed. "Take slow, deep breaths until the pain subsides." Thalassa tried to do as he said, though it was hard to concentrate through the unexpected pain. When it passed, she exhaled sharply. "Not here," she murmured. "Not now. It's too early." Sinclair managed a small smile. "Babies choose their own time." Eri sighed, once more looking toward the plains below. Thalassa knew what he saw, what he feared. Rhaeven was coming, bringing his soldiers with him. And now…how could she walk, climb these hills, escape the warlord's wrath? And what of Prince Sinclair? What would happen if Rhaeven once more captured him? He was a prince, a person of importance. He couldn't die, yet staying here with her would guarantee it. Still, she was not emotionally strong enough to encourage Eri to take him, and leave her alone. The truth was, she was terrified, both of being caught by Rhaeven and of giving birth. She shook off Sinclair's hand and stood, though her legs threatened to betray her. "Let's go on," she said firmly. Eri rose as well. "M'Lady, how—" "Let's go on!" Thalassa interrupted, starting away. Eri grabbed her by the arm. "Be reasonable, M'Lady. Your baby has chosen its time." "Not yet, not now!" she snapped. "Please, please, let's go on." She was overwhelmed with a sudden need to be out of Asuria, to give birth to her child in another place. Reason told her she would never make it back to Zal. Diraenia would have to do. 72

"I agree," Sinclair said quietly, almost as if he had read her thoughts. Eri sighed, but helped the prince to his feet. "Perhaps we could find a place within these mountains to hide." Sinclair nodded. "There are many caves here. It has been said that some may go all the way through to Diraenia." "That would be a blessing from the gods themselves," Eri mumbled. He pulled Sinclair's arm about his own shoulders, taking on the prince's weight. "All right, Thalassa, let's go on." She turned and started off, her heart pounding in fear. How could they escape Rhaeven? He and his men were on horseback, well stocked with supplies. She, Eri and Sinclair had nothing, not even fresh water to drink. She absently wondered what had happened to the pack Eri had made up. Not that it would help much. The waterskin had been old and tainted with past liquids, making the water sour. Still, Thalassa could tell that Sinclair needed liquid. Food one could do without, but not water. The little group moved steadily upward throughout the evening, though the pace was slow. More than once, Thalassa had to stop to let a contraction pass. More than once, Sinclair had to stop to rest. Yet, neither spoke of being thirsty or tired. Fear of their pursuers drove them on. It was not until early evening that Eri finally spotted a dark opening in the gray rock. He moved toward it eagerly, nearly dragging Sinclair with him. Thalassa followed more slowly, encumbered by two heavy sticks she had plucked from the ground enroute. She was not about to go into the darkness of the mountain without light. Eri led them into the cave, stopping only when the light from outside grew dim. He lowered Sinclair gently to the ground, then turned to Thalassa. "I'm going outside to…" He stopped, only just now noticing the branches she held. "Where did you get those?" "I picked them up on the way," she answered. "For torches." Eri quirked an eyebrow in surprise, and took the wood. "You shouldn't be carrying these. They're too heavy for a woman in your condition." "I'm pregnant, Eri, not incompetent," Thalassa retorted, then pulled a thick wad of moss from a fold in her gown. Sinclair smiled. "Resourcefulness. I like that in a woman." Thalassa flushed, and Eri chuckled, moving close to her. "Perhaps I was right about you and Prince Sinclair," he whispered. Thalassa's flush deepened, and she was glad of the darkness to hide it. Her gaze went to Sinclair, but he seemed not to have heard. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, and Thalassa studied him while Eri prepared the torches. There was no denying that the prince was attractive, even in his current state of illness. His shock of dark hair, though dirty and too long, caressed a strong jawline and shoulders that told of past sword practice. Now, as he rested with his head thrown back, his elfin ears were visible, and Thalassa's thoughts flew to Terran. "Stop that," he mumbled, still half asleep. Thalassa giggled, and again ran her finger lightly along the point of Terran's ear. He reached up and gripped her hand, then turned on his side to face her. "It tickles," he said softly. 73

"Does it?" She pressed closer to him, wondering at her own lack of decorum. She had never been this brazen, this relaxed with a man. Yet, this man excited her, sent her senses soaring to a place they had never been before, and most likely would never be again. She pushed him onto his back, coming atop him. Her hands pinned his arms to the ground, and she gave him a wicked smile. "How much does it tickle?" she asked, then bent her head and traced his ear with her tongue. Terran shuddered, though he did not try to stop her. "A lot." His voice was raspy. "And this?" she whispered, moving her mouth to his throat and his chest, leaving feathery light kisses all along. He shuddered again. "Careful, M'Lady, you know not the beast you rouse." Thalassa lifted her head and looked into the dark eyes. "Ah, my Beast, if I have roused you, then what must I do to soothe you?" Terran smiled, and enveloped her in his strong embrace. His kiss answered her question. She closed her eyes, and clenched her fist, trying to shake thoughts of him away. It would do no good to dwell on the past. Terran was gone. She would not see him again. The image in the fire….it had been a trick of her tired mind. Yet…her hand lifted to her cheek, where the memory of his touch still lingered. "There," Eri announced. "This should do it." Eri's voice shattered her thoughts. She opened her eyes to find Sinclair watching her. Once more, a warm flush spread over her cheeks, and she averted her gaze. Eri pulled a flint from his tunic and struck it several times to create sparks. One of them finally caught at the moss, and it flamed, illuminating their surroundings. Eri turned to Sinclair. "M'Lord, we need to go on." The prince grunted softly, and got slowly to his feet. "And you know your way through these caves, Eri?" he asked. "Or shall we become lost here?" Thalassa caught at her breath. She had not even thought about that. She had just supposed that either Eri or Sinclair would know. Now, the idea of being trapped in this cold and dark, of perhaps dying here, sent panic swirling through her. Eri glanced at her, then once more took on Sinclair's weight. "We won't get lost," he said calmly. "Aki won't allow it." Thalassa frowned in puzzlement. "Aki? How can she help us now?" "Through you. She can guide us, through you." Thalassa almost laughed, and would have, if she had not been so terrified. "That's absurd!" "Trust Aki, Thalassa," Eri said. "Trust yourself." Thalassa stared at him in disbelief, then looked into the cold darkness beyond. Her heart began to pound, and suddenly she was again immersed in the pounding of the drums. Her gaze moved to Eri and Sinclair. The former was regarding her with the same unabashed trust as before, but in Sinclair's dark eyes, resignation and hopelessness rested. Clearly, he never expected to make good his escape from Rhaeven. Sudden determination tore through Thalassa. She couldn't allow the prince to be taken prisoner again. Somehow, she had to see that he returned home, to his own kingdom in Diraenia. She would help this elf survive, just as Terran had helped her. 74

It was a repayment of a debt she could never hope to do in person. "Give me the torch," she said, surprising even herself with the firm tone of her voice. "M'Lady, I can hold it," Eri said. "You must think of your condition." "Oh, for goodness' sake!" Thalassa snapped. "I'm not dying! Not yet, at least." She snatched the torch from him, daring him silently to argue with her, but he said nothing. Thalassa turned away, took a deep breath, and started walking, the drums guiding her steps. *** Terran awoke groggy and disoriented. Soft, fine hair tickled his chin, though his hand was tangled in heavy, thick tresses. He blinked several times, then drew back in surprise. Vaoni's cheek pressed against his chest, the top of her head just below his chin. Kamali lay beside her, her face turned toward Terran, one arm crossing Vaoni to hold him. Both she and Vaoni were asleep, and Terran carefully untangled himself. He rubbed wearily at his eyes, trying desperately to remember the previous night's occurrences. Memory returned slowly, dragging its feet through his exhausted mind. His gaze went to a bloodied cloth that lay near the small firepit. He remembered using it to clean the little girl's wound, a wound he had healed using the last bit of energy he'd had. It was something he couldn't have done at all under ordinary circumstance. So, who had helped him? How? He remembered the drums, how they had pounded relentlessly at his mind. He cocked his head. There was no sound now, no beating. He sighed in exhaustion, and closed his eyes. Almost at once, an image of Thalassa sprang to his mind. Not as he'd seen her through the flames, but as she had looked that night they lay together, with the moonlight shining down on her pale skin, playing through her blond hair, sparkling in her blue eyes. Gods, she was beautiful. Radiantly so. He longed to see her again, to touch her, to make love with her. "You're beautiful," he whispered, drawing his fingers through her soft hair. "You're a fairy princess of the moon." Thalassa smiled up at him. "A princess" She paused. "Perhaps I am, at that, for you are my prince." He started, then realized she was only making a play on words. He wondered how she would react if she knew of his heritage, if she knew that she had been intimate with a member of royalty. "M'Lord?" she asked. "Did I say something wrong?" "No," he answered at once. "No. Perhaps princess was not the right word. Goddess is more like it." At that she laughed. "Goddess? Tart would be a better word." Terran drew back. "Why?" Thalassa sighed. "I have known you only a few days, and…well…this is not my usual behavior, M'Lord." He laughed, and kissed her soundly. "Nor is it mine," he assured her. "So, I 75

guess I am a tart, as well." "You?" Thalassa eyed him with amusement. "I'm not sure a man can be a tart." "Then I am a tarter, or a tartson, or perhaps a tartlett." "So, who are you, then? Man? Beast? Tartlett?" She burst into laughter. He joined her, then gathered her close, reveling in the immense joy he had found in her, this woman from Zal. He opened his eyes, surprised to find Kamali awake and watching him. She sat up slowly. "M'Lord?" she whispered. "How are you feeling?" He forced a smile to his lips. "I'm fine." He reached for the pack, but Kamali quickly fetched it for him. "There isn't much in the way of food," she said quietly. "After you went to sleep last night, I foraged within the WardSpell. I did manage to find some nuts and berries, but I think Boaz needs water." Terran glanced over at the horse, then dropped the WardSpell about the camp. Vaoni came awake with a startled gasp. "Terran?" she cried, obviously confused. He rested one hand on her small shoulder, noticing her wound had been bandaged. He cast Kamali a thankful glance, before addressing Vaoni. "It's all right. I'm right here. You're safe now." Her face puckered up in pain, and she let out a small moan, then leaned against him. "It hurts," she murmured. "I know." He sighed, and reached for the pack. "I have some willow bark in here, someplace. It will help." He found what he was looking for and held it out to her. "Can you tell me what happened?" She frowned, taking the willow. "I don't remember." "You were attacked, Vaoni," Terran pressed, taking out one of his spare tunics. "By whom?" Kamali gripped his arm, her face white with terror. "Lecor?" she breathed. "My husband?" The thought had already crossed Terran's mind. "You know him best. Would he do something as evil as this?" Kamali hesitated, then nodded. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it was a hunter's stray arrow." Terran could hear the pain in her words, as if she viewed Lecor's inhumane treatment of women as her fault. And perhaps she had been told that enough times in her life with the man. He watched as she turned and went further into the woods. He was tempted to go after her, but guessed that she needed some time to herself. And he couldn't leave Vaoni alone. He returned his attention to the little girl. "Was it the minister who attacked you, Vaoni?" he asked, as he slipped his tunic over her head. She frowned. "I don't think so. I don't remember being attacked, Terran." "Then what do you remember?" He carefully pulled her arms into the sleeves and let the tunic fall. It hit her at the knees, and he removed the blanket. "Nothing. I woke up and you were gone. That scared me. You promised me you wouldn't leave me again; you promised." 76

Terran cringed at the accusatory tone. "I only went to investigate Rhaeven's Keep, to see if Thalassa was there." "And she wasn't, then?" "No. No one was there. The Keep had been destroyed." Terran drew a slow, steady breath, his thoughts once more returning to the images he had seen beneath the water. He had to keep going, had to find Eri and Thalassa, had to put truth to the hope that his younger brother yet lived. But how? Kamali suffered from broken ribs and a head wound, and now Vaoni was injured, as well. She certainly couldn't walk. How could they survive the grueling trip to the inland Keep? And what would he find once he got there? If his vision was correct, Aki had destroyed that Keep, just as she had the other. Where would Thalassa and Eri go? Which direction? "M'Lord!" Kamali's cry broke into his scrambled thoughts and he quickly got to his feet, as Kamali hurried toward him. Her dark eyes were large, her face pale, and she pulled at his hand, encouraging him to follow her. Without a second thought, Terran scooped Vaoni into his arms and took to Kamali's lead. She drew him through the thick undergrowth, stopping at the edge of the ledge. The valley dropped below them, while in the distance a great range of mountains reached toward a gray morning sky. Terran saw a column of men snaking its way up the mountain slope. The banner that fluttered in the breeze was red and black, though from this distance Terran could not make out the crest. "What do you make of that, M'Lord?" Kamali whispered. "It's Rhaeven and his men," Vaoni replied, her voice flat and sure. "How do you know that?" Terran asked, startled. "I just know." Terran glanced at the child, then looked back at the soldiers. Terran's gaze swung over the lands separating him from the mountains. He knew this place. He hadn't recognized it in the darkness of the previous night. He had even explored it once, many years earlier, as part of his instruction in learning the boundaries of Diraenia. He knew that mountain range, and knew the caves that cut through it. If Rhaeven was leading his men there, it could be for only one reason. They wouldn't dare cross into Diraenia without very good cause. And the only good cause Terran could think of was Sinclair. If the prince made it home, and informed the king of his ordeal at Rhaeven's hands, war was sure to follow. Swiftly, he turned, drawing Kamali after him back to the campsite. "We need to go there," he said, setting Vaoni down. "I can't promise either of you a soft or pleasant ride. I would prefer to leave you both in a place of safety—" "No!" Vaoni shrieked at once, cutting him off. She grabbed his hand in a desperate grip. "You promised! Don't leave me again. I can ride. I won't cry, I promise." Her words cut deep into Terran's soul, and he hunkered down in front of the little girl. "Vaoni, your injury is not a small one. Riding on horseback will be very painful for a time yet, no matter the magic that I have used to heal you." "I don't care, Terran," she wailed, tears filling her blue eyes. "You promised. I want to go with you. Please." She wrapped her small arm about his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. 77

With a sigh, Terran gathered her close, then glanced up at Kamali. She was looking no less desperate, though she held herself rigidly, as if she expected to stay behind. Still, Terran could see the fear that lay in her eyes. If Lecor was, indeed, out here searching for her and Vaoni, her very life could be in danger. Terran couldn't, wouldn't, leave her to fend for herself. "All right," he said softly. "You may both go along. I really have no other choice. Come then, let's get things together." Kamali let out a soft sigh of relief and hurriedly began to repack. "I'll keep out something for Vaoni to eat," she said. "Willow may upset her stomach with no food on it." Terran nodded. "I'll refill the waterskin with fresh water from the river. And I'll need to find an access to the water for Boaz." "Can I come with you?" Vaoni asked, as if she suspected he might try to slip away. Terran gave her a small smile. "Yes, you may come along. We'll be quick, Kamali." He took Vaoni's hand and returned to the river. "Can you do your magic now?" Vaoni asked, peering into the water. "Magic?" "Yes. You want to know where Thalassa is, don't you?" Terran flushed. "Yes, I do, but I think I might already know." "Rhaeven is looking for her, too," Vaoni said. "Is he?" She nodded, her gaze still fixed on the water. "But Thalassa has help now. Two men are with her. They'll help her." She looked up at him, her blue eyes glowing with excitement. "She's going to have a baby." Terran started. "I… I know," he stammered. "You said two men. What two men, Vaoni? How do you know this?" She shrugged. "I saw them." "You saw them? Where? When?" Vaoni's brow wrinkled in thought. "I can't remember. I just know I saw them. They're nice men; I know they are. They'll help her. Oh, but you don't have to worry about them, Terran. She loves you, not them." Terran stared at her in surprise and astonishment. But the little girl merely giggled, and tugged at his arm. He rose and followed her back to the campsite, where Kamali waited. She seemed to notice his look of consternation at once. "Is there something wrong, M'Lord? "No," Terran mumbled. A frown furrowed his brow, and he glanced about him. The towering trees swayed gently in a light breeze, though nothing stirred at ground level. Yet…he looked back over his shoulder toward the river. "A moment," he said, and quickly slipped away. He stood on the rock ledge for a moment, studying the area. Here, branches were broken, the dust blown aside, the plants trampled. It was as if a giant hand had pressed down on the land. Or perhaps…

Terran shook the thought from his head, and returned to the campsite.

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CHAPTER 11 Thalassa passed one hand over her face, trembling. Eri shot her a quick glance. "M'Lady? Do we need to stop?" he asked. "What?" She looked at him, dazed, then shook her head. "No, no, I'm fine." She frowned, her gaze moving to Sinclair. "Are we in Diraenia?" The prince sighed. "I really wouldn't know, M'Lady. I was never much of one for caves. That was my brother's forte. I have never explored the inside of these mountains. I know only that they divide Asuria from Diraenia. Why?" Thalassa hesitated, then shrugged. "No reason." She returned her attention to Eri. "How much longer will you walk?" Sinclair answered. "We can stop now, as far as I'm concerned." Eri looked to the prince with concern. "I'm sorry, M'Lord. I didn't want to push you past your limits, but at the same time, I wanted to be sure we were hidden well enough." He gently lowered Sinclair to the hard ground, then straightened, peering into the darkness. After a moment, he took the torch from Thalassa and walked several paces away. "Here! Look here! Water!" His voice echoed dully in the cavern. He returned to Sinclair with a smile. "Just a little further, M'Lord, then you can rest." Sinclair groaned softly as Eri pulled him to his feet. Thalassa followed the two men to a small stream that cut through the rocks. Sinclair and Eri fell at once to their knees to drink, but Thalassa stood still, listening. The drums were beating again, pounding gently in the distance, calling to her, to her magic. Her gaze moved about the dark confines of the cavern, though what she searched for was unclear. Finally, as if pulled by some unseen force, she stepped across the stream to the rocks on the other side. Almost at once, the pounding increased in intensity, and Thalassa collapsed to her knees with a cry of pain, her hands pressed over her ears. Eri was at her side at once, holding her, his young face clouded with uncertainty and fear. His lips were moving, but she couldn't hear what he was saying over the pounding of the drums. She closed her eyes, bowed her head, and sagged against him. "M'Lady?" Panic filled Eri's voice. "M'Lady, please, speak to me? What is it? What's wrong?" Thalassa opened her mouth to answer, but was suddenly gripped with a powerful contraction. It seized her entire abdomen, squeezing the breath from her lungs, and sending her thoughts spinning. She grabbed Eri's arms in a fierce hold, then started when she felt Sinclair lay one hand against her belly. "It's time," the prince murmured. "No," Thalassa whispered. "I'm not ready." Sinclair seemed amused by that. "But the baby is. Come on, lie back." He stripped off his tunic, crumpled it, and placed it behind her back, then eased her against the rock. "Eri, your shirt is a little cleaner. We'll use it to wrap the baby. We need to get a fire going. We need a little warmth in here." "But what will we burn?" Eri cried. "Coal. There's plenty of it in here. That much I do know. Take the torch, look about for some. I'll create a firepit." Eri nodded, took the torch and began his search. Thalassa gripped Sinclair's 79

arm. "You've magic. Can't you make this stop? I don't want the baby here, in this cold and dark. Please?" Sinclair offered her a small smile, then gently brushed her hair from her face. "I cannot stop what the gods have started," he said softly. Tears leapt to Thalassa's eyes, but it had more to do with his touch then any pain. Why did he keep reminding her of Terran? Was it simply because he was elfin? Was it his gentle manner, his soft words? She closed her eyes. "Must you go?" he asked quietly. Thalassa nodded, though pain lay heavy in her heart. "I am promised. That's my life, Terran. I have no other." Terran sighed, glancing down the cliffs toward the ocean. Thalassa followed his gaze. Lights shone from several villages that dotted the shoreline. In one of those villages, her husband-to-be waited. Thalassa turned away before Terran could see the tears that threatened. She hated the thought of returning there, hated even more that she would become a wife to a man whom she did not love. But what choice did she have? A woman with no money, no dowry, no skills, could not make it alone in this world. She looked up to find Terran watching her, surprised to find pain in his eyes. "Here, I've found some." Eri's voice brought Thalassa's eyes open again. She watched him pile what looked like black rocks into the center of the firepit that Sinclair had created. It didn't take much work to set a flame to the coal, and soon a small fire lit up the surrounding cavern. Thalassa watched the flames dance in the darkness, creating grotesque shadows on the cave walls. She knew that Rhaeven and his men were on their trail, knew that Sinclair and Eri were risking their lives for her, for this child, and again she found herself crying softly. Eri sat down beside her and took her hand. He murmured her name, then fell silent, obviously not knowing what else to say. Sinclair scooted closer to her, as well, once more laying a hand on her abdomen. He gave Thalassa a smile. "This baby is a strong one. A good kicker." "I'll bet it's a boy," Eri said. "I hope so," Thalassa whispered. "Life is so much easier for a boy than for a girl." Sinclair eyed her thoughtfully. "It doesn't have to be hard for a girl," he said. "Nor for a woman." She turned her gaze upon him, ignoring Eri's little smile of satisfaction. "Perhaps not in your world, M'Lord," she told the prince. "But in mine, the life of a woman is very different." Sinclair studied her a moment, then tenderly stroked her cheek. "I could make your life very different," he said quietly. The words drove into her heart. "I could make your life very different," Terran said softly. 80

Thalassa looked up at him with a sad smile. "You already have," she murmured. "You could come with me," Terran told her. The thought sent butterflies through her stomach, but she shook her head. She knew her clan, she knew Doloth. He would come after her. She was as much his property as the cow that lived in the barn. With less worth. He would come after her, and he would kill the person responsible for her disappearance. Just the thought sent horror racing through her. She would never suffer Terran to Doloth's brutality. Never. She sucked in her breath as another contraction seized her. "Breathe slowly, calmly," Sinclair instructed. "Work with the pain." Thalassa tried, but as the pain intensified, she gripped Eri's arm in a fierce hold. The boy yelped, his gaze flying to Sinclair. "No, don't tighten up," Sinclair told Thalassa, gently prying her fingers away from Eri. "If you tighten up your muscles, the pain will be worse. Breathe, Thalassa, breathe." "I am breathing!" Thalassa snapped, then was instantly sorry for her tone. Her abdomen relaxed and she let out the breath she had been holding. Her cheeks reddened and she looked at the prince. "All right, so maybe I wasn't breathing," she admitted sheepishly. "I've never done this before. How long will it take?" Sinclair shrugged. "It depends on the baby. It could be just hours, it could be tomorrow. I don't know." "Tomorrow!" Thalassa cried. "No! It can't be. We can't stay here that long! Rhaeven will—" Sinclair shushed her with a finger pressed against her lips. "We will be all right. The gods afforded me this escape. I can't see why they would thwart it now." "The gods," Thalassa moaned. "If there are gods, then why did they allow you to be caught in the first place? And why was Eri brutalized as he was?" "We cannot know the reasons," Sinclair told her. "It just is." He gently traced the pentagram scar on her cheek. "You have magic. Perhaps you can use it to help with your labor." Thalassa started. She had not even thought of that. She had been very aware of Terran pulling her magic, though what he was using it for, she didn't know. Her brow furrowed in thought. She had sensed something that last time…no, not something, someone. Terran had saved someone else. He had done so with a strong degree of passion, determination. And love. The idea drove daggers through Thalassa's heart. So, Terran had another. Someone he cared for deeply, that he sought to protect. Well, what did she expect? That he would wait for her? He knew she would be married. He knew he could never claim her. So, why, then, was he trying to help her? Why did he keep appearing to her? Why was he constantly in her thoughts? A small gasp escaped her as yet another contraction claimed her. Sinclair frowned, touching her abdomen lightly. "This is quite close to the last," he said, more to himself than the others. "Is that bad?" Eri asked at once. "No. It just means that this baby wants desperately to be born. Eri, tear off a bit of cloth and wet it from the stream. Don't wring it dry." He looked at Thalassa as 81

Eri moved away to accomplish the task. "I'm going to let you have a few drops of water. It'll quench your thirst, but not make you sick." He accepted the cloth from Eri, and, when the contraction had passed, squeezed a few drops of the icy liquid into Thalassa's mouth. He then let some of the drops fall into his hand, and gently wiped her face with the water. She sighed, reveling in the touch, the care and concern. She wondered if he was being truthful in his words about making her life easier. She wondered exactly what he meant. Would he take her on as a servant in the palace? Would he expect her to be his courtesan? And the child? What of the child? She reached out and took Sinclair's hand. "This baby, what will become of it?" He looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?" Thalassa started to answer, then stopped. How could she ask him to take the child, to give it a proper life, a home? He didn't even know her. She was Zal, he was Diraenian. He was a prince, she a peasant. Their worlds were so vastly different, so completely opposite. She released his hand as if she had been stung. What was she thinking? Another contraction caught at her, but this time the pain was so intense that she could not help crying out. She arched her back from the floor, her breath hissing out through her clenched jaw. "M'Lord!" Eri's panicked cry echoed in the cavern. "Thalassa!" Sinclair's voice was sharp. "Listen to me! Keep your head back. Breathe through your mouth." She felt him push back her gown and move her legs apart. Embarrassment flooded through her. "No!" she cried. "Go away! I can do this by myself. Please, go away!" "Thalassa, relax!" Sinclair ordered. "I've done this before. Birthing children is nothing new to me." "Leave me alone!" she shrieked, jerking her gown back in place. She had only a moment to see the determined look on Sinclair's face, the fear on Eri's, before she was again gripped with pain. She threw her head back with a scream of agony. Eri suddenly moved, pulling her against his chest and trapping her arms with his. She again felt Sinclair move her gown aside, and she kicked out with her feet. He gripped both her ankles. When he spoke, his voice was firm and authoritative. "Stay!" The one word stopped her movements cold. She stared at the prince in shock, her heart racing. Eri bent his head to kiss her forehead. "Please, M'Lady, please, let Prince Sinclair help. He is a healer, one of the most gifted that I know. He will bring this baby into the world without harm. Please." Thalassa looked up into the young face, the trusting eyes that now held such concern. Tears sprang to her eyes, flooded over, and cascaded down her pale cheeks. She clung to Eri's arms as waves of pain assailed her. "Listen to me, Thalassa," Sinclair said, his voice once more calm. "When I tell you, I want you to push. Eri, you help. Support her, bring her forward. We'll have this baby together." Thalassa gasped at his words. Together? She suddenly giggled. It was all so strangely funny somehow, that she, a mere peasant woman, would have a prince 82

and his squire as attendants at her baby's birth. Her giggles turned to laughter, and she saw Eri's mouth quirk up in a confused grin, as his gaze went to Sinclair in question. The prince said nothing about it, but Thalassa did. "We'll have to marry now," she whispered. "You've seen that part of me that no man but a husband should see." That brought Sinclair's gaze up with a start. For a moment, he merely regarded her in silence, then he placed one hand on her abdomen. A second later, Thalassa's entire body reacted. "All right!" Sinclair snapped. "Push, Thalassa. Now!" She did, using every muscle in her entire body. Her breath caught in her throat, burned in her chest, sent tears to her eyes. Still, she pushed. She didn't seem to be able to stop, though she could hear Sinclair ordering her to. "Put your head back!" Sinclair commanded. "You must push with your head back. Thalassa, listen to me! Eri, help her!" She heard the panic in his voice, tried to comply, but fought Eri as he attempted to draw her head back against him. She would have this baby, and she would have it now! The drums suddenly began, pounding so loudly she thought they would collapse the walls about her. Louder and louder they beat, seeming to move the very ground she lay upon. They shook her body, rattled her thoughts, and captured her soul with their power. "Nitesh!" she screamed, though where the word came from, she had no idea. *** Terran paused to wipe sweat from his brow, his gaze moving toward Kamali and Vaoni. Both were mounted astride Boaz, both were pale with pain heavy in their eyes. Yet, he knew that should he ask, that both would deny stopping to rest. He scanned the surrounding hillside. Rhaeven and his men had long since vanished from view, but Terran knew they were still continuing on their uphill climb. He had opted to come over the top of the ridge, hoping that he could find a place in which to scrye for either Thalassa or Sinclair. So far, he had seen no sign of water. With a heavy sigh, he once more began to walk, Boaz following. He hadn't gone more than a few steps when Vaoni suddenly cried out as if in pain. Terran whirled and caught at the little girl as she collapsed against the horse's neck, then slid from the saddle. "What is it?" Kamali cried. "Vaoni?" Terran cradled the small child in his arms, noticing the pallor, the sheen of sweat on her brow. She looked up at him through blue eyes glazed with pain and confusion. "It's begun," she whispered. "What's begun?" "The child. He seeks to be born." "Child?" Terran shook his head, then gasped in realization. "Thalassa's child?" Vaoni nodded weakly, her small hand stroking her belly. Kamali frowned, looking at Terran. 83

"Thalassa is with child? Yours?" Terran started, looking up at her. "No. She was…married. Her husband was killed in the siege on her village. She carries his child. But how Vaoni can know of this is beyond me." "It's the Nitesh," Vaoni murmured, a small smile touching at her lips. "Listen." Terran lifted his head. Slowly, softly, the drums began to pound. He felt them as much as he heard them. His heart matched their rhythm, sending chills through him. "Do you hear that, Kamali?" he whispered. She glanced about, alarm in her dark eyes. "Hear what, M'Lord?" "The drums." She was silent for a long moment, obviously listening, then shook her head. "I hear nothing." Terran chewed thoughtfully on his inner cheek. "We're in Diraenia," he finally said. "We crossed the border back there." "Diraenia?" Kamali's voice held relief. "Then you are home, M'Lord. You are safe." "Yes, but Thalassa is not. Not yet." He looked back at Vaoni. "Can you ride?" She nodded, but pain still clouded her small features. Terran returned her to her place in front of Kamali. The woman brought the child close, despite her own painful injuries. Terran studied them both a moment longer, then took up Boaz's leads. "Just until we can find a safe place to rest," he assured them. They walked on, Terran choosing the easiest route he could find, Boaz moving gently and sure of foot. Within the hour, Terran found what he was seeking—an opening in the rocky hillside that would lead them inside the mountains. Here he stopped and helped Kamali and Vaoni to the ground. "We'll go just inside, just far enough to be hidden," he told them. "What about Boaz?" Kamali asked. "Boaz knows very well how to keep hidden," Terran replied, glancing fondly at the horse. He slipped the bridle and reins free, then took down the saddle, as well. Boaz danced about, obviously glad to be rid of the confining harnesses. He lowered his head, shook his mane, snorted, then looked up at Terran. The elf smiled, patted Boaz's cheek, and waved one hand in the air. "Go then, enjoy your freedom. I will call for you when I next need you. And find yourself some water." Boaz pawed at the ground, bobbed his head, then turned and bolted down the hillside and out of view. Terran watched him go, then picked up the pack. It took him only a moment to make an adequate torch from material he found on the ground. "Let's go, then," he said. "Inside." Kamali swallowed hard, but nodded, and took Vaoni's hand in hers. They followed Terran into the darkness of the mountain. Terran kept the pace slow, though his heart was eager to rush forward, to find Thalassa, Eri and possibly Sinclair. He knew they were in the caves, he could almost feel them. The sound of water caught his attention, and he turned toward it. It wasn't much later that he found a small stream. 84

"Here," he said, his voice quiet in the darkness. "We can rest here." He dropped the pack, propped the torch against a boulder, then pulled the blankets free. These he placed on the hard, cold ground. "Come, sit down, both of you. I'll fetch you some water, then you can have something to eat." "M'Lord," Kamali said, "it is I who should be waiting on you." "Nonsense. I am quite capable of—" He broke off as Vaoni gave a cry of pain, and collapsed. He was at her side in seconds. "Vaoni? What is it? What's happened?" She reached out to grip his hand. For a moment, she said nothing, but continued to grimace in pain. Terran was just about to pull magic to help her when a smile danced across her face, erasing the pain that had been there only moments before. "You have a son," she murmured. "I…" Terran's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? Has Thalassa given birth?" Vaoni nodded weakly. "A boy," she whispered. "She has a boy." Her eyelids fluttered closed. "How does she know that?" Kamali asked. Terran shrugged, though he couldn't calm the pounding of his heart. "She has her own form of magic. She and Thalassa were quite close in their village. I guess I just didn't realize how close." "What did she mean, you have a son?" Again, Terran shrugged, his own mind struggling with the child's words. He gently covered the little girl. "I think she was just talking. She wishes that Thalassa and I would…well, that we were together." He flushed, averting his gaze. Kamali laughed softly. "And you do not wish that?" Terran's gaze darted to the woman. "I… I don't know what I wish," he stammered. "She…she is Zal, I am Diraenian." "So?" He was at a loss for words, unsure how to explain to her, how to tell her of his father's seeming animosity toward citizens of Zal. He straightened and began to look for the coal that he knew lay in the mountains. It didn't take him long to find enough to keep a comfortable fire burning for many hours. Even though he had not consciously made a plan, he knew what he must do. "Kamali, you must rest, as well," he said, as he put a flame to the coal. "And you will go seek Thalassa?" Kamali asked, with just a trace of a smile. Terran looked up at, embarrassed that both she and Vaoni seemed to know his thoughts better than he did. He nodded. "I am going to scrye for her, but I think she is very close now." Kamali let out a soft sigh of pain and fatigue, and settled back against the saddle. "I wish you luck, Terran. May you find what you seek." She closed her eyes. *** And suddenly, it was over. The pain, the incredible pressure was gone. Thalassa collapsed against Eri, gasping for air. Her ears still rang with the beat of the drums, though the sound slowly faded away. "M'Lord?" Eri's shaky voice broke through her daze. 85

"It's a boy, born in the sac. That's a rare gift, a sign of blessing," Sinclair said, almost to himself. "Hold a moment." A second later, there was a robust wail, and Thalassa let out a cry of relief, mingling with Sinclair's cry of astonishment. "Please, let me have him," she mumbled. She reached out with both arms. "Please, M'Lord?" Sinclair had wrapped the baby in Eri's shirt, and now lifted the infant to Thalassa's waiting arms, his own eyes wide with wonder and question. She brought the baby close, then gasped, her gaze flying to Sinclair. "His ears," she breathed. "They're—" "Elfin," Sinclair finished. He moved closer to her. "Look here." He moved the shirt away from the baby's head. "Have you seen this mark before?" Thalassa stared at the large, red mark on the crown of the baby's head. It was diamond shaped with clearly defined edges. She shook her head, looking back at the prince. "It's a birth mark, nothing more," she said. For a moment, Sinclair was quiet, studying the baby, who had quieted to sleep in Thalassa's arms. "It is much more than a birth mark," he said at last. "It is a birth right. My brother has such a mark. His name is Terran. He is the Crown Prince of Diraenia." Thalassa stared up at him in disbelief. "Terran?" she whispered, then shook her head. "No, M'Lord, it can't be… I was only…we…" She broke off, knowing that her cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "Is this the man you spoke of so often?" Eri suddenly asked. "The man who stays in your heart and in your smile?" "No!" Thalassa cried, panic settling in her gut. "No, it can't be the same person. He was in Zal, just over the border. He was alone, in…in a dark alleyway. A prince wouldn't travel so. No, you're wrong!" She hugged the baby to her breast, as if trying to protect him from the truth. Sinclair sat back with a sigh. "There is no doubt as to the child's heritage, M'Lady. It's just that I thought Terran and Elise, well, they…" He broke off with a shake of his head. "Elise?" Thalassa repeated. "She is his wife, then?" "His betrothed. At least, the last I heard. I have not seen Terran for many, many months. It is possible that he and Elise chose not to marry, but I really can't see that. They were deeply in love." "Perhaps Terran was only—" Eri broke off. Thalassa's gaze darted to him in anger. "Was only sowing his wild oats?" she finished. "Only out to bed one last whore before he wed?" "No, M'Lady!" Eri cried. "That's not what I meant!" "Then what did you mean?" she snapped. "Thalassa," Sinclair said softly, "Eri meant nothing by it. Certainly if Terran were doing such as you suggest, it would be a strike against him, not you. You would not have known of his marital status. Still, I know my brother. He holds the covenant of marriage very sacred. He would not do this." "Yet, it would seem he did," Eri replied. Sinclair looked from Eri to the baby. "I just don't understand this." 86

Thalassa looked again at the red diamond on her son's head. She stroked the infant's cheek gently, then traced his pointed ears with one finger. A small smile touched at her lips, but it was filled with sadness. How could she deny what she saw? The name was the same. Terran's own brother couldn't be mistaken about the birthmark. He would know. Just as she knew, deep within her own heart. Tears once again gathered and fell, to drip soundlessly on the wrap about the baby. "This child does not belong to me," she whispered, then remembered saying those same words to Adrick. Perhaps she had known all along. Thoughts of Adrick returned her attention to Rhaeven, and she looked back at Sinclair. "You and Eri need to keep going. Rhaeven is sure to find us if we delay." "You need some rest, as do I," Sinclair told her, his voice weary. "You must go," Thalassa insisted, then choked on her next words, "and you must take the baby with you. If he is indeed the heir to the throne, he does not belong with me." "M'Lady, no!" Eri gasped. "He is your son, as much as he is Terran's." "He never belonged to me, Eri," she cried. "I was nothing more than a vessel, a temporary home. Now, it's time that he takes his rightful place with Diraenian royalty. Please. Don't let Rhaeven get him, please." "Rhaeven won't get him," Sinclair mumbled, his eyelids drooping with fatigue. Eri noticed at once, and moved to support the prince against him. "You are right in your statement, M'Lord," he said. "You need rest. As do you, Thalassa. After we sleep, then we can move on." "But, Eri—" "No more talk, M'Lady," Eri interrupted. "Sleep." Thalassa sighed, noticing that Sinclair had already drifted off. She regarded the prince thoughtfully, only just now realizing why he had seemed so familiar. Terran's brother. The thought actually amused her. She might have fallen in love with him had circumstances been different. But her heart belonged to Terran. It had for many months. It mattered not that he had a betrothed or possibly a wife by now. She loved him. Just as she loved his child. And because of that love, she knew what her next move would be. The thought sent terror coursing through her, but when she looked again at the sleeping baby, she knew she was right. Eri studied her for a moment. "And when will you tell Lord Sinclair of the Sickness, M'Lady?" "I… I don't know," she stammered. "He's so weak. And he has done much for me already." Eri smiled. "And he is willing to do much more." Thalassa flushed. "No, Eri, it's not possible. Not now." *** Terran went to the stream and hunkered down before it. He didn't need much magic to call up the vision in the water. It practically leapt out at him. He clearly saw Thalassa, her face brightened by a small campfire. She held the child in her arms, though Terran could not see the infant's face. He studied Thalassa for a long time, taking in the gentle curve of her jawline, the small, upturned nose, the full lips. Gods! How he wanted to touch those lips again, feel 87

this woman in his arms. But how? Not only was she Zal, but she had now given birth to a clan child. As much as he wished that it were his child, he would not allow himself to believe it. With saddened heart, he allowed the scrye vision to pull back, to include anyone else in the vicinity. A gasp escaped him when he saw Sinclair leaning against Eri, sound asleep. He was thinner than usual, and looked haggard and worn, but just the fact that he was alive sent joy coursing through Terran. Forgetting that he saw his brother only through a vision, he reached out to touch him.

The water swirled, the vision collapsed, and disappeared. Terran sat back, fatigued at even this small use of magic. After a few moments, he rose, took one last look at Vaoni and Kamali, then turned his steps northwest, toward Sinclair, Eri and the love of his life.

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CHAPTER 12 Thalassa watched the two men before her as they slept. Their breathing was easy now, calm. She made a slight movement. Neither stirred. Carefully, she rose. She had used her own magic to heal her body of the birth. There was nothing left now, but to go, go and leave this child with his proper family, his proper life, a life that didn't, couldn't include her. She gazed at the sleeping infant, her heart full of love. She couldn't believe that at one time she had hated him, had wanted him purged from her body. Gently she stroked his pudgy cheeks, then again traced his pointed ears, before kissing him softly on the forehead. She removed the whistle from her neck, and tucked it into his coverings, making sure it was well hidden and secure. Then, she bent and placed him against Sinclair's chest. Sinclair grunted softly, adjusted his position, and instinctively crooked his arm about the child. Thalassa stepped back, closed her eyes, and offered up a Zal prayer for the child's safety. She took up a torch, then without another look, turned and hurried back toward the opening of the caves. She knew a newborn could survive for several days on water alone. By that time, hopefully, Eri and Sinclair would have found a village and adequate food. It tore at her heart to leave her son, but she had no other choice. She could not give him the life he was born into. It didn't take her long to reach the outside. She doused the torch, then shielded her eyes against early afternoon sunshine. For a moment, she felt disoriented. It took her only a few minutes to realize that she, Eri and Sinclair had walked the night into the caves, and still had not gone far enough inside the mountain. The fact only served to steel her resolve. She would lead Rhaeven and his men far, far away from Eri, Sinclair and the baby. If she must forfeit her life to assure her son's survival, then so be it. Her jaw tight with determination, her body wracked with exhaustion, she started south and east, turning her steps toward Zal and home. If she made it even halfway there, it would be a true miracle. As she walked, she made sure to let her path be known. She wanted Rhaeven to see it, to follow her, and stop following Eri and Sinclair. Still, she was not prepared for what happened only hours later as she picked her way across the rocky slopes. Tired, thirsty, hungry and in pain, when she heard the sound of rushing water, she immediately headed toward it. So intent was she upon soothing both her tired throat and her aching feet, that she never even saw the warning signs of men's passage. She stumbled around a large boulder, and right into Rhaeven's camp. A gasp of disbelief and terror escaped her, as several dozen men looked up from their early evening meal. Thalassa whirled, darted behind the boulder, then staggered up the hillside. But it was to no avail. She heard the roar of the men as they gave chase, and it was only moments later that a strong hand grabbed her, bringing her up short. Screaming out her rage, she turned on her captor with a ferocity she didn't know she possessed. She had never fought back against a man, but now found that years of repressed anger fueled her rage. She lashed out with her free hand, raking her nails across his face, leaving four, long bloody welts. He bellowed in pain, but instead of releasing her, he yanked her 89

toward him, nearly crushing her in his strong embrace. She recoiled against the smell of sweat and dirt that lay heavy upon the man, then brought her foot down sharply against his shin. His thick, leather boots caught the brunt of the action, and he twisted her around in his arms, pinning her own arms against her chest. Thalassa did the only thing left to her. She bit him. Her teeth sunk into his arm, breaking the skin. He roared out his fury, then tossed her aside, right into the waiting arms of two other soldiers, who easily subdued her. The man she had bitten approached her, his gaze filled with anger. She brought her chin up defiantly, glaring at him, daring him to strike her. His gaze darted to her left cheek, and his hand froze in mid-air. Thalassa quickly made use of his uncertainty and fear. "That's right," she whispered. "Will you strike a witch?" "He will strike no one," Rhaeven answered, striding toward them. "That right belongs to me." He stopped in front of Thalassa, regarded her for a moment, then backhanded her across the face. Thalassa gasped, tasting her own blood. Her head reeled from the blow, and she sagged in her captor's arms. Rhaeven took hold of her chin and pulled her around to look into her face. "The others," he said, "where are they?" "Others?" Rhaeven's eyes narrowed in fury. "You test my patience, Thalassa of Zal. Where are Eri and Sinclair?" "I don't know," Thalassa retorted, amazed at how calm her voice was. "You don't know," Rhaeven repeated. His gaze fell to her belly, where her gown now sagged. "And the child?" "Dead," Thalassa snapped. "What did you expect?" "I expect the truth! I am not a fool. Now, where are the good prince and his faithful squire?" "You knew?" Thalassa cried, forgetting herself. "You knew he was a prince, and still you imprisoned him? Were you courting war? Haven't you heard of the elves and their magic?" Rhaeven's bearded face went red with fury. "You are a slave, Thalassa. Keep your thoughts and words away from political matters that don't concern you." He made a quick gesture with his hand, and Thalassa flinched, but his actions were for another. One of his men approached, gave a stiff bow, then waited. "Take her to my tent," Rhaeven instructed. "Secure her, then you and your men scour these hills. If Prince Sinclair is here, I want him found, and this time I want him killed." The man hesitated, his gaze darting to Thalassa. Apparently, at least he was thinking about her words regarding elves and magic. Rhaeven whirled on him, cuffing him sharply. "I gave you an order!" he roared. "Yes, M'Lord." The man gave another jerky bow, then took Thalassa by the arm and steered her toward Rhaeven's tent. "You know this is pure folly," Thalassa said, stumbling over the uneven ground. "The elves will declare war on Asuria, and death will spare no one, least of all, 90

those who are faithful to Rhaeven." The man remained silent, but his face paled. He thrust her into Rhaeven's tent, then glanced about for something to bind her with. Thalassa thought quickly. "There is no need to tie me," she said. "I can scarcely run. For one thing, I am weak from childbirth. For another, how would I chance to get past all of your comrades out there?" The soldier glared at her, his gaze hard upon the scar on her cheek. A small smile tipped the corners of her swollen lips. "Does my magic frighten you?" she murmured, narrowing her eyes. He started, swallowing hard, though he seemed mesmerized by her glance. Thalassa felt a strength swell inside her, a strength she had forgotten she possessed. All of her days as first a convenience to her husband, then as a slave to Adrick and Rhaeven, had sapped from her that power which her mother had fought to instill; the power that had seemed to come alive the moment she had set foot in Diraenia. And now, though she knew she was back on Asurian lands, the feeling had not deserted her. She moved a step closer to the soldier, then reached up to trace his square jawline. "Magic can do wondrous things," she purred. " It can bring riches to the poor. It can win wars thought lost. It can make a soldier a king." The man trembled beneath her touch, though he made no effort to move away. Thalassa's smile grew. "I can do much for you," she whispered. "No more bowing and scraping. Instead, it will be you whom they bow to. You will be a lord, a powerful lord, with lands of your own, and a legion of men who will pay homage to you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He nodded numbly. "I thought as much. All of these things I can promise you," she said. "But kill Prince Sinclair or his squire, and your death will be gruesome indeed." He started, his grip tightening on his sword hilt. "What would you have me do?" he managed, at last finding his voice. "Lead your men elsewhere, away from Diraenia. If you should see evidence of passage, ignore it." "But Lord Rhaeven—" "Let me worry about Lord Rhaeven," Thalassa interrupted. "You just focus on where you'll want to build your own Keep, M'Lord." The words had their desired effect. The soldier drew up, his face set and determined. He nodded, then took up Thalassa's hand and kissed the back of it before striding from the tent. Thalassa waited only a moment before sagging onto Rhaeven's sleeping cot. The cost of magic use had been high in her fatigued state. She fell backward, closing her eyes, her breathing rapid and tight in her chest. She wondered when Rhaeven would come for her, what he would do. She supposed that he was like most men. He would take his pleasures with her first, then condemn her to death for his brother's murder. Her gaze went to her arm, and she moved her blouse aside. The red streak was at her shoulder, beginning its downward journey to her heart. Somehow, it brought 91

her satisfaction. Perhaps she would die of the Sickness before Rhaeven could have her executed. Stealing his revenge from him would be sweet. *** Though it took Terran the rest of the day to walk the caves, he was sure of his destination, guided by both an inner voice and the soft beating of the drums in the distance. Each time he moved the wrong way, the beat changed, not correcting itself until he was once more on a true path. Exhaustion was setting in, made worse by the intense cold of the caves, and by his anxiety. His thoughts continually strayed back to Kamali and Vaoni. Though he had taken the precaution of placing the little girl under a sleep spell, he was all too aware that she had the power to break it, just as she had broken his WardSpell earlier. He hoped should that happen, Kamali could reassure her that he was indeed coming back, and that he would be bringing Thalassa with him. Just the thought of seeing the Zal woman again, of touching her, sent warmth rushing through him. Gods! How he ached to hold her. It would be a true test of restraint to keep from embracing her the moment he saw her, but he knew it was a test he must take. There was no telling if she held the same emotions for him that he did for her. He would not force himself upon her, nor would he make a fool of himself in front of Eri and Sinclair. Guilt once more picked at him. He should be thinking of his brother, not a woman he'd known for only three days. Yet, just knowing that Sinclair was alive had banished all of the pain and grief that Terran had held over his loss. He was anxious to get to his brother and make sure he returned home safely. He paused to readjust the food pack he carried, and to shift the heavy torch to the other hand. The faint cry of an infant wafted to him from ahead, and his heart quickened. He was close, so close. Yet, now he must proceed with caution. He didn't want the ever-vigilant Eri to mistake him for one of Rhaeven's men. He moved closer still, then paused. "Eri?" he called softly. "Sinclair?" There was no answer, and he again moved forward, holding his torch high. "Eri, it's Terran. Answer me." The baby wailed again, and with drawn breath, Terran rounded the corner. Sinclair slouched against a rock, a campfire flickering before him. A small bundle lay on a well-padded bed of cloth beside him. He stared up at Terran as if seeing the dead. "It's really you," he breathed. Terran choked on his sob of relief. "Sinclair," he whispered. "M'Lord Terran!" Eri stepped from behind him, a large, sharp stone clutched in his hand. It was obvious that he had been poised to attack, but now fell to one knee, the stone clattering to the ground. Terran's gaze swept the area. "Thalassa? Where is she?" Both men reacted with surprise, though it was Eri who spoke. "You knew she was here, M'Lord? How?" "I knew all of you were here. I have been tracking Thalassa for days. Where is she?" 92

Eri cast Sinclair a quick glance before answering. "We don't know, M'Lord. She left while we slept." Terran's stomach jerked into a knot, and his shoulders sagged. He sank to the ground, then motioned to Eri. "Do get up, Eri. After what you've done here, you've no need to bend knee to me. You've returned my brother to his home, to his life. There are no words that can express my gratitude." He turned his gaze on Sinclair, and opened his pack. He removed the food packet, and held it forward. "You look as if you could use this." Sinclair reached for the packet, then gripped Terran's forearm. A soft sob escaped him, and he pulled his brother into his embrace. "By the gods, Terran, I thought I'd never see you again." Terran hugged Sinclair, then clapped him on the back gently. "Nor I you, brother." Eri leapt forward, seizing the packet of food from Terran. "Food, M'Lord Sinclair!" He ripped the pack open, his dark eyes glowing with delight. "This is what you need! Meat, cheese, and bread. Here, eat." "You need to eat as well, Eri, judging by the bones that I can count from here," Terran told him, sitting back. "I can wait," Eri insisted. He reached for the baby, but Terran intervened. "Let me," he said quietly. "You join Sinclair. That's not a request, Eri." Eri blushed, but nodded. He quickly divided the foodstuffs as Terran turned his attention to the child. He pulled the cloth covering away from the baby's face, then gasped aloud. "An elf!" His gaze shot to Eri, then Sinclair, as the drums suddenly began their rhythm. His rhythm, Thalassa's, Vaoni's and… With shaking hand, he drew the covering back to expose the baby's head. "My child." The words left his lips in no more than a disbelieving whisper as Vaoni's words raced through his mind. You have a son. Sinclair regarded him, confused. "You didn't know, then?" "N…no," Terran stammered. "Thalassa didn't know, either," Eri said. "She thought she carried her husband's child." "Where is this husband?" Sinclair asked. "And where is your wife, Terran?" Terran winced at the accusatory tone. "Dead. They are both dead." Sinclair gasped. "Elise?" "Yes, a hunting accident, almost nine months ago. Thalassa's husband was killed by Rhaeven's men." He blinked back sudden tears. "My child," he repeated, and hugged the infant to him. "Why would Thalassa leave? Does she despise me that much? Does she hate me for what I've done to her? Why would she abandon our child? Me?" "Hate you?" Eri cried. "No, M'Lord, I can most assuredly say she does not hate you. You were in her thoughts and in her dreams. When she spoke of you, her eyes shone of her love. She never mentioned your name. I never knew it was you she longed to see again." Terran let the words sink in. They warmed him to his very soul, yet… "Then why did she leave?" he murmured. "I can guess," Sinclair said quietly. "She knew Rhaeven was following us. She 93

also knew that I was unable to travel quickly. And she decided that the child belonged to the elfin empire, not to her. I think she left to lure Rhaeven away from us." Terran stared at him in horror. "She would sacrifice herself for us? No! I can't let her do that! I must go after her." He started to rise, but Eri's gentle grip stopped him. "M'Lord, I'm going. I would have gone straight away, but that I couldn't leave Prince Sinclair and the baby alone. Now that you are here, you can see to their safety, and I can go for Thalassa." "No, Eri, no, I…" Terran drew a deep breath, his gaze once more on the baby. "I want to." He looked at his brother. "I know this is sudden, and improper so soon after Elise's death, but I love Thalassa, and I love our child. He should have a mother." "And you should have a wife," Sinclair added. "Yet, neither may happen," Eri put in, his voice heavy with grief. "I can't see how Thalassa was able to journey so soon after giving birth. If she does not succumb to pure exhaustion, then surely she will succumb to the Sickness." "What?" Sinclair and Terran cried together. Eri shifted uncomfortably. "She has the Sickness, M'Lords. She is dying." "Why didn't you tell me?" Sinclair demanded. "I wanted to, but Thalassa forbade it. She didn't want you using your magic when you were so weak." "Magic? It doesn't take magic to cure the Sickness, Eri! It takes nothing more than a fungus that grows in every forest. Had I known of her illness, we could have collected some on the way here. She would be on the way to recovery by now." Eri's mouth dropped open in astonishment, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn't know," he whispered, then turned a pleading gaze on Terran. "M'Lord, Your Highness, please forgive me. I really didn't know. I take full responsibility for this failure to serve. But know this, whatever punishment you may deem adequate will never match the punishment that I place upon myself." Terran rested one hand on the boy's shoulder. "There will be no punishment, Eri. Thalassa makes her own choices. She is a strong, willful woman. She will survive." He rose. "As for us, we need to move on. I have a camp set up further into Diraenia. We should go there. I have more food, fresh water, blankets and other supplies that we may need." "Diraenia?" Sinclair mused. "Then we are, indeed, in our homeland?" "Yes. This small stream acts as the boundary." He abruptly paused. "On which side of the stream was the child born?" Sinclair smiled. "Thalassa made the choice. She chose Diraenia, though how she knew, I'm not certain." Terran breathed a sigh of relief, and once more looked at the sleeping child. "She knows, just as I know. This child, this child is the Nitesh, the heartbeat of the land." "And is that what you will name him?" Eri asked, as he helped Sinclair to his feet.

"I don't know. That right belongs to his mother, as well. We shall discuss it." He took up the torch, stamped out 94

the campfire, and led the way back toward Kamali and Vaoni.

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CHAPTER 13 Thalassa was jostled awake sometime later. She pried her eyes open to find Rhaeven towering over her, his face set in anger. "So, you escape bindings, as well?" he asked, his voice deadly cold. Thalassa struggled to sit up, wincing at the pain that tore through her belly. She knew she shouldn't have tried to walk so far, so soon after giving birth. Although Zal women had a quick recovery, aided by their magic, it had still been too soon. She suppressed the pain, and returned Rhaeven's gaze. "I suspect the guard knew that I was not capable of escaping. He chose to use his time more wisely, in the pursuit of those you seek." "That pursuit would be over by now if you would tell me where they are." "I told you, I don't know." Thalassa leaned back against a bedroll. Rhaeven hunkered down before her. For a moment, he did nothing more than look at her, then he reached out and traced the pentagram scar. "Don't know, or won't tell? What sort of magic did you use on my man to cause him to disobey me?" "No magic, M'Lord," Thalassa replied. "I told you, he seemed like an intelligent fellow." "He's dead," Rhaeven stated. Thalassa gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "No," she breathed. "His death is on your conscience now, Thalassa. You were the reason he chose to disobey his lord. He paid the price. What did you promise him? What did you tell him you would do in exchange for your freedom?" Thalassa stared at him, her heart hammering. How could he know of her words to the man? Guilt plagued her, ran through her like ice water. She averted her gaze, but Rhaeven gripped her chin and tilted her face upwards. "You killed Adrick," he whispered. "Didn't you?" "No!" Thalassa cried. "Then the boy did so." "It…it was in my defense, M'Lord. Adrick came to my room. He was drunk. He…he wanted to bed me. I told him that I belonged to you, but he wouldn't listen. Eri tried to stop him, tried to convince him to leave, but he wouldn't. Eri didn't mean for it to happen, M'Lord! He was only trying to protect me!" "You are both condemned," Rhaeven told her. "You should both die. Just how that death will be effected, I have not yet decided." He sat back, studying her thoughtfully. "On the other hand, there is nothing left for me here in Asuria. Both my Keeps have been destroyed, my men scattered, my brother killed. And you have played a hand in all of it. That intrigues me, Witch. Adrick told me how you took on the pain at the branding. Just how powerful are you? How much can you tolerate before your magic gives out? Before you feel pain that you cannot stop, suffer wounds that you cannot heal?" His words cut deep, sent her heart racing. She clenched her jaw, determined she would not let him see her fear. But she was chilled to the core. Familiar feelings of terror crept up to haunt her, to remind her of her past, of what men had done to her. She tried to push them aside, tried to concentrate on the strength she had felt while in Sinclair's presence, the power she had felt while she held her son, Terran's 96

son. But it was to no avail. Rhaeven's words hammered at her mind, clawed into her gut. Guilt overwhelmed her at the thought that her lies to the soldier had brought his death. Rhaeven stood over her, hands on hips, eyes narrowed, mouth formed into a tight line. "I have made my decision, Witch," he said. "I will find Eri and Sinclair, I will see them both hung and quartered. You will be witness to their deaths. Then, you and I will set sail, Thalassa. We'll cross the waters to York, and there begin a new life. Over time, Thalassa, you'll wish your death was as swift as that of your friends." He bent and hauled her to her feet. He dragged her outside, then to the river that cut through the land. Once there, he stripped her of her clothes, and, for the first time, noticed the red streak coloring her arm. His face grew pensive. "So, then, you court death on your terms?" Thalassa shivered in the cold night air. She was thankful of the darkness about them to conceal her nakedness, though she burned under Rhaeven's leering gazes. He shoved her toward the river. "Bathe," he instructed. "Oh, and if you get the notion to use the river as a means of escape, think twice. I have archers staged at various points along the bank, with orders to shoot anything that looks like man or woman. When you are done here, return to my tent." He turned and strode away. Thalassa immediately snatched up her clothes, holding them against her cold skin as if holding a shield. Warm blood trickled down her legs as the afterbirth contractions continued. After a moment, she stepped into the river, gasping at the icy touch of the water. She went as far as she dared, then bent to rinse the soil and blood from her clothes and body. As she did so, she became aware of the beating of the drums. She raised her head to peer into the darkness beyond, then sat back in the water, letting the cold liquid numb the pain from the birth. The drumming ceased. Frowning, puzzled, she once again leaned forward. The drumming began, soft and distant. Once again, when she drew back, they stopped. Understanding took hold in a heady rush. This river! This river was the boundary line between Diraenia and Asuria. She remembered now. She had crossed the stream in the caves, the stream that must feed into this same river. She had borne her child in Diraenia; she had gained her power from there, as well. Now, here, back in Asuria, the power was gone, stripped from her as surely as her child had been. Darting a quick glance over her shoulder, she moved closer to the center of the stream. At once, the drums became louder, and louder still, the closer she moved to the Diraenian bank. She felt her strength returning, her optimism, her sense of power. But why? Why here, in Diraenia? It made no sense. She was Zal, born and raised there. Her hand strayed to her throat, reaching for the whistle that was not there. She had left it with her son, fearful that somehow Rhaeven would be able to use it, to call up the dragon, use her. Now, Thalassa wished she still had it with her. She would call Aki, ask her help. There was no longer any denying that she had the power to do so. And yet, now that she had finally accepted it, she could not use it. Instead, she used the strength of Diraenia to heal her birth wounds, wounds that had not taken kindly to a full day of hiking the uneven hills. Her resolve returned as 97

the pain dissolved. She would do whatever she had to, to ensure that Eri, Sinclair and her son got safely away. She only hoped her resolve would continue once she was back in Asuria. She took a deep breath, only vaguely aware of the numbing cold on her legs and buttocks, then immersed her entire body in the frigid waters, letting the river cleanse her of her past. She had a future, however bleak. It would last just until she knew that her child was safe. Then she would allow herself the luxury of death. *** Terran chafed at the slow pace set by Eri and Sinclair, though he understood it. His brother was weak yet, and needed Eri to support him while he walked. Rest stops were frequent and long, but served to furnish knowledge. Eri told Sinclair and Terran all that had happened to him since his escape from the Keep, how he had met Thalassa, how she had used her magic to help the captives, to help him. And how she had called up the dragon, Aki, not once, but twice. Sinclair had put truth to at least one of those calls, telling Terran how the dragon had plucked him, Eri and Thalassa from the raging battle and deposited them high on the mountainside. Still, neither man could answer as to why a woman of Zal was able to call upon the dragon of Diraenia, and the group had walked on in thoughtful silence. Terran's gaze went to his son often during the long walk. The child was his; there was no denying it. They bore the same birthmark. Terran wondered if his father, King Liam, would accept this halfling, and would allow a child bearing Zal blood to stand in line to the throne. Exile Terran could bear, as long as Thalassa and his son were with him. And Vaoni. Somehow, the little girl was connected, as well. They were a family. Two from Zal, one from Diraenia, and one linking the two countries forever. Thoughts of the little blonde pixie quickened Terran's footsteps. Eri and Sinclair struggled to keep up, though neither complained about the pace. It was very early morning when Terran finally spotted the flames of a campfire flickering in the distance. He motioned toward it, encouraging Eri and Sinclair with a smile. Not much later, the group staggered up to the fire. Though Vaoni slept, Kamali was awake, and came to her feet, holding a large rock. Her gaze fell on Terran first, then slid past him to Eri and Sinclair. A small gasp of surprise escaped her. "Armund?" she whispered. Terran glanced at his brother, surprised at the use of his second name. "You know my brother?" he asked her. "Well met, Kamali," Sinclair mumbled, his own voice disbelieving and just a little suspicious. "I wasn't aware you knew Terran." "We…we only just met," Kamali stammered. "Just a few days past." "I don't understand," Sinclair said. "Of all of the people in Asuria, how did he…" He broke off with a shake of his head. "It was Boaz," Terran said. "He chose the village, the home where I was to place Kamali. He was very set in his destination. He must have known Kamali was there. I just don't understand how." Sinclair winced as Eri lowered him gently to the ground. "Apologies about that 98

brother. I needed a swift horse. I rode Boaz to see her on occasion. Apparently, he remembered." "Apparently," Terran mumbled. "You know each other well." It was not a question. Sinclair tossed his brother an amused glance, then gave a small, sad smile. "Not as well as I might wish." "And did she also know Marna?" Terran asked. He could not keep the chastising tone from his voice. Still, he winced at the look of guilt that flashed through Kamali's eyes. He sighed. "I apologize, Kamali. This just comes as a surprise to me, that's all." "Terran," Sinclair said softly. "Kamali and I were friends, that's all. She knew of Marna, yes. I knew of Lecor. However," Sinclair regarded Kamali, his gaze sweeping over her face, "I do not remember him striking you." Kamali's flush was evident, even in the firelight. "It's nothing," she murmured. "It's much," Sinclair countered. "Speak. Why did he assault you?" The baby gave a sudden, soft wail, recapturing everyone's attention, and unexpectedly waking Vaoni. Terran secured the torch, then sat down beside her. She sat up with a cry of joy. "You're back!" she squealed, hugging him about the neck. She peered down at the baby. "And you've brought your son!" Then her small face darkened. "Where's Thalassa?" Terran felt the familiar sting of grief course through him. "I don't know, Vaoni. I'm going to scrye for her as soon as we are all settled." He turned to Eri. "You can rest here for a while, then you must go on. Take the others and head east. We are but a day's walk from the village of Hed. You will find milk for the baby there." "M'Lord, Your Highness?" Kamali's voice was soft and hesitant. "If you would find no fault with it, perhaps I could feed the child." "You?" "Yes." Her dark eyes pooled with tears, her voice barely audible, as she sank down on the rock. She broke into sobs, covering her face with her hands. "You asked why he did this, Armund? Because I could not give him a son. Only two precious girls." "Two?" She nodded. "Two in two years time. Both gone." "Gone where?" Sinclair managed. "The first is with the Spirits. She is at peace. The second…" She shuddered, then whispered. "She was born only weeks ago. Lecor sold her. She was so beautiful…so very beautiful." Terran stared at her, aghast. "But…you…you never said a word," he managed. "I might have found her. Why didn't you say something?" Kamali brushed her tears aside, though more took their place. "I…I didn't want to sway you from your goal, M'Lord. I couldn't. Not when your heart guided you." Guilt settled in Terran's gut, but Sinclair squeezed his shoulder in understanding. "My sweet Kamali," he murmured. "We'll find her. No more will you suffer. I make you this promise. I will find your daughter and return her to your arms." He reached for her, took her in his arms, kissed her forehead. "Then, Kamali, if you will have me, we will be a family. I love you. I have loved you always, and always you 99

have been out of my grasp. Now, you no longer are." He paused, placing one hand on each side of her face, his thumbs gentle on her wet cheeks. "Kamali, be my bride." Terran and Eri gasped together, exchanging startled glances. Sinclair kissed her lightly on her battered lips. When he drew back, the skin was healed, the swelling gone. She let out a small gasp, and reached up to touch at her face. "My friend, my secret love," she whispered. "My heart has always been yours." "Then you accept?" "I accept." Vaoni giggled. "They're getting married! Just like you and Thalassa will, Terran. Come, Kamali, hold the child," she begged. "Let me rewrap him in something clean and warm," Eri said. He rummaged in the pack, producing enough bandaging material to diaper the child, and another of Terran's tunics in which to wrap the infant. Quickly, he stripped off the dirty garments, then caught at his breath as the whistle fell to the stone floor. Terran retrieved it, holding it out with a questioning glance. Eri gasped, and touched at the silver metal with one finger. "This is Thalassa's," he whispered. "It's the whistle she used to call Aki. Without it, she cannot fight Rhaeven. Without it, she will die." The baby let out a sudden loud wail, flailing arms and legs against the cold of the caves. Eri quickly diapered and wrapped the infant, then placed him into Kamali's arms. He picked up a blanket and draped it around both Sinclair and Kamali, then looked to Terran, who sat, still stunned by both his words of death, and Vaoni' words of marriage. "M'Lord, Your Highness," he said. "I am torn. I wish desperately to get this whistle to Thalassa, yet I cannot leave Prince Sinclair now." "You don't have to leave him," Vaoni said, matter-of-factly. She tugged at Terran's arm, encouraging him to his feet. "Come, let's go find Thalassa." "I don't even know where she is," Terran replied, the very words sending chills through him. "Can you scrye for her?" Eri asked. Terran drew a deep breath, a shudder passing through his fatigued body. "Perhaps." He moved closer to the stream, and reached for his magic. It eluded him, wavering like a heat mirage in the desert. He huffed out an irritated breath, and tried again, then started when Sinclair laid a hand upon his shoulder. He looked back at his younger brother. "Let me help," Sinclair said quietly. "No." Terran shook his head. "No, you're too exhausted. I can do this." "You are no less exhausted, Brother. Let me help." Terran relented, reaching up to grip Sinclair's hand in thanks. Once again, he focused his magic on the stream, and this time the image appeared. Thalassa sat astride a great black horse. She was dressed in men's clothing, her hair gathered in a braid that curled about her neck like a serpent. She was pale, more so than even a woman of Zal should be, and Terran was sure he saw her tremble as Rhaeven swung into the saddle behind her. Terran stiffened as the warlord wrapped his arms about her, then kissed her on the neck. Thalassa did not move, did not pull away, and for a moment, Terran hesitated. 100

"She does his bidding," Sinclair whispered, assuaging Terran's fears. "It will keep her alive until you get there." He peered into the vision. "The Sickness is advanced, Brother. I can tell by her color. You must procure the fungus along the way. It grows along the river." "But how will I know it?" Terran asked. "Fungi can kill if you –" "It's white," Sinclair interrupted, "but blue on the underneath. As blue as Vaoni's eyes." Terran looked back at Vaoni, who was watching him with a determined look on her face. "I cannot take her," he whispered to Sinclair. "Yet, I am loathe to put her once again into a Spell. Besides, I believe she can break any Spell I can surround her with." Sinclair glanced at Vaoni as well, his eyebrows rising in surprise. "I can safekeep her. She can go with Kamali, Eri and I to Hed." "Why do I hear hesitation in those words?" Terran murmured, turning away from Vaoni's incriminating stare. Sinclair sighed, also turning aside. "I do not think she will stay with us, and I am in no position to run after her. I suppose I could put Eri in charge of her." "No!" Terran's response was quick. "He will have enough to do watching over you, Kamali and the baby." He huffed out an annoyed, but resigned, breath. "I suppose you are right. She has already disappeared on me once. She is probably safer with me than running about looking for me. Thank you, Brother." Terran clasped Sinclair's forearm, then straightened. "You're not going to leave me," Vaoni said at once, as if she had read his thoughts. Terran could not help an amused smile from quirking his lips. "But what of Kamali? The baby? You could help both." "Kamali is able to care for the baby, Terran. And Eri can help Sinclair. I will come with you."

Terran hesitated, not understanding his willingness to bow to her command. Was he truly worried about her slipping away from the others? Or was there some other reason he was compelled to take her along? He shook the puzzling thoughts aside, and held out his hand to the little girl.

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CHAPTER 14 Terran reined in Boaz and studied the township of Bisdon in the distance—a port town, with several tall-masted sailing ships at anchor in the harbor. The land stretching between him and the water was forested, providing no view of Rhaeven's company, though Terran knew they were there, somewhere. He looked down at Vaoni who sat before him. Once again he wondered what had possessed him to agree to her insistence that she come along. Surely he was able to withstand the plaintive wailings of a child. Wasn't he? So, why then was she here? Riding into danger with him? Somehow, he knew she was involved, but he didn't know how. She knew too much, understood too much, commanded too much. He shook his head. Someday, he was sure it would all fall into place. Right now, he had to concentrate on Thalassa; he had to come up with a plan to either get the key into her hands, or rescue her himself. "Is that where they are?" Vaoni asked, her voice interrupting Terran's thoughts. "That is where they are headed, though I'm not sure why," Terran answered. "Perhaps they mean to sail away on one of those ships," the child suggested. Terran frowned. The thought had occurred to him already, although he had been hesitant to voice it, as if voicing it would make it a reality. With a deep breath, he urged Boaz forward, down the hillside, to join the muddy, rutted road that ran north. He was careful to stay on the east side of the river, in Diraenia. He had no doubts that Rhaeven was just as careful to stay in Asuria. Still, since the port city lay in Asuria, Terran would have to cross the river at some point. He was not eager to do so. It would not only put him on foreign soil, but it would influence just how much magic he could wield. And he was certain that he would need to call upon it to rescue Thalassa, unless he could get the whistle into her hands. Terran shuddered, wondering just what Rhaeven had planned for her. Had he condemned her for his brother's death? Was he even now deciding upon the mode of her execution? Was this journey to Bisdon to afford witnesses to such? The thought tore at his gut. Somehow, he had to stop Rhaeven, and secure Thalassa's freedom. If that meant buying her, he would do so, though he knew it would not set well with her. And, if he had to kill to protect her, he would do that, as well. And then what? Once she was free, would she agree to accompany him back to the Diraenian palace? Would she still have feelings for him, now that she'd found out he was the Crown Prince? Although she had known he was upper class, due to his clothing, he wasn't sure how she would take his royal position. She might look upon his invitation as being nothing more than exchanging one set of bonds for another. And what of King Liam? What would he do? How could Thalassa ever be comfortable at the palace with Liam's animosity? It had even torn at Marna in her time spent there as a guest. There were far too many questions, and right now there was little sense in looking past the crisis upon him. "Look, Terran!" Vaoni suddenly cried, pointing. "There's that plant Sinclair talked of!" Terran followed her gesture, relief surging through him. He pulled Boaz to a stop and leapt from the saddle. Vaoni struggled to dismount as well, nearly falling into his arms. He smiled at her, set her down, and together they went to investigate. 102

Terran hunkered down beside the rotted stump, while Vaoni got down on her hands and knees, and peered at the underside of the large, spongy growth. "It is blue, Terran!" she exclaimed, her voice holding true astonishment. Terran bent to look, as well. "As blue as your eyes, Vaoni," he told her. "Just as Sinclair said." He straightened, fetched his saddle pack, and opened it. From within, he drew out a leather bag, then walked the few steps to the river. Sinclair had instructed him to wet the bag, to keep the fungi from drying out. He said its medicinal properties were valid, whether fresh or dried, but that the Sickness reacted to the fresh much more quickly. He returned to Vaoni, broke off a large chunk of the fungi, placed it gently into the bag, then sealed the top securely. Now, all he had to do was get to Thalassa. But first, he wanted to check on their son; he wanted to see that Eri had done as he had been told, and taken the others to Hed. He tied the leather bag to the saddle, then took Vaoni's small hand in his. "Shall we see what the others are doing?" he asked, leading her to the river's edge. She giggled softly. "You just want to see your baby again." Terran smiled, his heart warming. "Yes," he agreed. "I miss him already." Vaoni regarded him thoughtfully. "When you left me with Lecor and Kamali, did you miss me?" she asked. "Terribly," Terran replied, guilt once more wafting through him. He hugged the little girl to him, stroking her soft, white curls. "I love you, Vaoni," he whispered. "As much as I love my son. When this is all over, will you come live with us?" "You mean with you and Thalassa and the baby?" He nodded. "That is, if Thalassa will have me." Vaoni's brow crinkled in puzzlement. "Why wouldn't she? She loves you, you love her. You have a son together." "Yes, we do. Still, there is much you do not know about me, Vaoni. Things that Thalassa might not view as favorable." "What wouldn't she like about you?" Vaoni asked. "You're very handsome, you're kind, you have magic…no, I can't think of anything she wouldn't like." Terran couldn't help but smile. He tousled her blonde curls, then focused his attention on the water. It took but a moment to call up the image of his son, and a smile crossed his face. Kamali carried the child gently, as the loving mother she was. Sinclair walked next to her, while Eri supported him from the other side. The terrain about them showed that they were well on their way to Hed. Terran guessed they should be there by nightfall, and he breathed a sigh of relief. At least, they would be safe, warm and well fed. But what of Thalassa? Carefully, he adjusted the scrye vision and reached for her. The image wasn't quite so quick to unfold. Whether it was because he was fatigued, or because she was in Asuria, he wasn't sure. But, at last, the vision cleared. Rhaeven's company had stopped for the evening meal. Thalassa sat, bound at the wrists, before a small campfire. Even in the vision, Terran could see her trembling. She was still very pale, perhaps more so than this morning. Alarm washed over him, and he reflexively reached out through the water for her thoughts. He saw her start, her gaze darted to the fire, and he directed his magic there, 103

sure that she could see him, perhaps even hear him. "I am not far," he assured her in a soft voice. "Take solace." She sighed, shook her head, and closed her eyes, as if resigned to her fate. Terran pulled back on the vision, to include those around her, then let out a gasp of alarm. Unwin stood no more than twenty paces away, clearly agitated, though he was not bound in any fashion. In fact, he still carried his sword at his hip, and his dagger in his boot. Terran's alarm turned to disbelief when Rhaeven strode up to the prince, and offered him a drink from a flask. The two men conversed for a few moments, before Rhaeven tipped his head toward Thalassa. Terran's blood ran cold. "No," he whispered. Not again. This could not be happening again! "What is it?" Vaoni asked, peering over his shoulder at the vision. "My brother," Terran replied, his voice barely audible. "Gods! He must have followed me. But why is he there? How does he know Rhaeven?" He watched Unwin approach Thalassa, hunker down in front of her. He seemed to be asking her questions, but from the look on his face, she wasn't giving him the answers he wanted. His response was a swift backhand across her face. "No!" Terran roared, and his magic surged through the scrye. *** Thalassa cried out in surprise as the campfire before her suddenly flared, shooting yellow-gold flames skyward. She tried to move backward, away from the sudden heat, but her bindings prevented her from doing more than toppling to one side. Unwin leapt to his feet and stumbled backward several paces, his eyes wide. The fire calmed as quickly as it had ignited. Thalassa struggled to sit up, her heart racing. Rhaeven joined Unwin, as his men looked on in obvious terror. "So, Witch," Rhaeven snarled, bending and yanking Thalassa to her feet. "You seek to use your magic yet again?" "N…no," Thalassa stammered. "It…it wasn't me!" "It wasn't her," Unwin agreed softly, his gaze still locked on the fire. "No, this little incident speaks of elfin magic." "Sinclair?" Rhaeven asked. "Perhaps." "Which means that he must be close." "And if he is, then your men didn't do a very good job of scouring those hills, did they?" Unwin put in, his gaze finally going to Rhaeven. "Maybe we should roust them now and send them back." "Maybe you should use your own magic, and find out just where your dear brother is," Rhaeven snapped. Unwin's face clouded with anger, and his hand flew to his sword hilt. Rhaeven was faster. His own dagger sparkled in the firelight, just inches from Unwin's throat. The prince drew back. "He's not my 'dear' brother," he seethed. "If he were, would I be paying you so handsomely to keep him contained?" Rhaeven pulled his dagger away, but did not re-sheath it. He glanced at Thalassa, who had caught her breath at Unwin's words. 104

"And you think what of this, Witch?" he asked. "Nothing," she said quietly. Unwin's eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Come now, you must have some thoughts on this, else you would not have reacted so. You say you don't know my brother, yet you certainly seem to have feelings for him." "I don't have to know him to feel disgust at what you've done to your own flesh and blood," Thalassa retorted. Unwin gave a small, cold grin. "And what about what he has done to me, Witch? He and Terran, the great and wonderful Crown Prince." Thalassa quickly averted her gaze, unable to hide the alarm she was sure shone in her eyes. Unwin cupped her chin with a strong grip and forced her to look at him. "So, what do you know of Terran?" he asked. "Nothing," she managed. "Eri merely mentioned his name a time or two." "And me? Did the good squire mention me at all?" Thalassa remained quiet, and Unwin tightened his grip. "Did he?" he demanded. "Only to say that you were the third brother," Thalassa replied. Unwin pushed her away from him in anger. "Yes, the third brother. The nothing brother. The kingdom goes to Terran, a dukedom to Sinclair. But what do I get? Nothing. The great Lord of Nothing." "I was under the impression that all subsequent heirs to the throne held the same power," Thalassa said. "Yours would be no less than Sinclair's." Unwin glared at her. "What do you know of it?" he roared, grabbing her by the wrists. "You're no more than a Zal whore, just as Marna was. You even bear the same disease." He pulled one sleeve up to expose the red streak, then jerked her tunic back at the shoulder, where the red streak lay angrily against her white skin. "Look here, Rhaeven. Best bed her quickly, she hasn't much time left. That is, if you want to lie in the same spot as countless other men." Once again, he pushed her aside, as if touching her dirtied him. Rage flew through Thalassa. Rage coupled with guilt. How could he know she had bedded out of wedlock? Had borne a bastard child? Her own sense of shame fueled her strength. "I am not a whore!" she screamed, and swung at him with doubled fists. She caught him soundly on the side of the face. The prince staggered, off balance, then snatched his dagger from his boot. Rhaeven's hand shot out, knocking the weapon aside. It landed in the hot coals of the fire. Unwin uttered a sharp oath, and kicked the dagger free. "The woman belongs to me," Rhaeven stated, his voice low and cold. "Do not touch her again." "Then you own more than you bargained for, Rhaeven," Unwin replied. "This whore knows more than she is telling. That little episode with the fire was no accident. Sinclair is watching us at this very moment. He knows right where you are, where your men are. And for some reason, he wants Thalassa back. Best you be rid of her before he brings his wrath down on you and what's left of your troops." Rhaeven's gaze darted to the fire, then to Thalassa. He made a quick motion with his free hand, and one of his men stumbled toward him. "Take the woman to my tent," he ordered, then snagged the front of the man's 105

tunic with the tip of his dagger. "And this time, do not let her work her magic. You saw what happened to your comrade earlier." The man paled, but nodded. He reached out for Thalassa's arm, but she pulled back in anger. "Don't touch me," she seethed, then stormed past Rhaeven, and walked across the muddy grounds to his tent, the soldier following. Once there, she threw herself on the ground, then glared up at the soldier. He approached her, his trembling obvious as he bent to secure her ankles with a strong, leather tie. Hobbled like an animal, Thalassa thought furiously, but allowed the soldier to finish his task. She would not have another man's death on her conscious. She watched him take his leave, then sagged against the bedroll. At least, Rhaeven had not yet touched her in any sexual manner. Even though he had forced her to bathe, he still claimed she was unclean from the birth of her child. She supposed he meant that until she was completely healed, he would not consider her a bed partner. She was thankful for his lack of knowledge about her people—that a Zal woman was completely healed from childbirth within two days; or just hours if the woman had healing magic such as she did. She reached up and used a bit of her magic to heal the pain of Unwin's strike, then moved her tunic aside to reveal her shoulder. The red streak had moved to just above her breast, and she willed it ever lower. She knew that Rhaeven was heading toward Bisdon, though she didn't know why. Not that it mattered much. If she had her way, she would be dead before they got there. A frown creased her brow as she remembered the image she thought she had seen in the fire. Was it real? Or was it only her desire to see and hear Terran once again before she died? Yet, how could she explain that sudden surge of flame? It had occurred as if in response to Unwin's blow. The animosity the younger prince felt for his two brothers was very clear. If he would have Sinclair imprisoned, what would he do to Terran as the Crown Prince? The thought sent a chill of fright through her. If Terran really was following her, she had to warn him away. But how? *** Terran hunched low over Boaz's back and urged the stallion onward over the uneven ground. Night had fallen fast and dark, yet the horse moved with a grace provided only by magic. Anger fueled Terran's reserve now, yet he knew that he could not continue much longer, and still remain conscious when he finally did reach Rhaeven's camp. It was with heart-wrenching reluctance that he reined in the great stallion, and brought him to a stop. Boaz's breath steamed in the cool air, his sides heaving, yet he pranced about as if eager to continue. Terran patted his neck gently. "No, Boaz," he said softly. "Now we must rest. Tomorrow perhaps the greatest challenge of all waits." "Will you go after Thalassa tomorrow?" Vaoni asked. Terran looked down at her, startled. He thought she had fallen asleep. But she was very much awake, staring back at him through blue eyes that held both youth 106

and ancient wisdom. Terran nodded. "Yes, tomorrow I will go after Thalassa." He dismounted, then reached up to help her down. She clung to his neck, burying her small face in his shoulder. "You'll be wanting to leave me back, won't you?" she asked. "To find a place to put me again?" "I don't know, Vaoni," Terran replied. "I cannot risk your life in this. You are too precious to me. But I'll not make the same mistake in judgment twice. Trust me on that." He hugged her tightly, then set her on the ground. "Come, let's make up camp, then have some dinner." She nodded, though her lips were set into a pout. It didn't take Terran long to get a small fire going, and lay out the blankets. He motioned Vaoni to the meal pack. "You eat while I rub down Boaz, and get him some water." "Where's Thalassa's whistle?" Vaoni asked suddenly. "In my pack. Why?" She shrugged, digging into the food packets. "I just want to make sure it's safe. Will you make tea?" Terran smiled. "With what? No, I think fresh water will suffice as a beverage. Now, get yourself something to eat. I'll be just a moment." He stripped Boaz of his saddle and bridle, then led the horse to the riverbank. While the horse drank his fill, Terran crouched down beside the water. He had a desperate need to see how Thalassa was faring, to make sure his brother was nowhere near her. Tortured memories of Elise filled his mind and numbed his heart. He had to know if Thalassa had told Unwin of the baby. If she had, he would be forced to make a decision—to save Thalassa from Rhaeven, or to save his son from Unwin. He took a deep, calming breath, and brought up the vision. Thalassa lay inside a tent, looking to be half asleep, though tears yet lingered on her eyelashes. He wanted so badly to speak to her, to reassure her, yet didn't know if he had the strength to do more than keep the vision from disappearing. It was a few seconds before he became aware of the drums. They were quiet, distant, yet seemed to invigorate him with their rhythm. For the first time, he accepted them, invited them. No longer were they a nuisance, pounding at his brain, interrupting his thoughts. Now, they were a part of him, of who he was. And he knew their rhythm beat not only in Thalassa's blood, but in the child's, as well. "Yes," he whispered, "come closer. Bring me your strength now. Carry my voice to Thalassa, she who is one with me." *** Thalassa bolted upright with a small gasp. Her gaze darted about the tent. Rhaeven had not returned. Far off, in the distance, she heard the drums beating, calling out to her. Heart matching their rhythm, she reached for them, brought them closer, until at last, she could make out words. Terran! The single word left her lips in a whisper. She closed her eyes, feeling his essence surround her, as if he once again held her in his strong arms, safe and secure. She reveled in the sensation; basked in it, let it comfort her. She wished she could tell him how much she missed him, how she longed for his touch, yearned to be with him. 107

I miss you, as well. The voice came on the sounds of the drums. Thalassa sucked in her breath. "Can you hear me?" she whispered to the darkness about her. Yes, though how this is possible, I do not know. You must listen, Thalassa. Listen carefully. You must say nothing to Unwin about our child or me. Thalassa started in surprise. He knew? He knew about the baby? Then, that must mean… Yes, I found Eri and Sinclair. I sent them to a village with our son. He will be safe there, as long as Unwin doesn't find out about him. Safe? The word ran through Thalassa like a gift from the Gods. Safe. Their child would be safe and cared for. She closed her eyes with relief. She had accomplished what she had set out to do. She had provided a place for her son in the world. A place with a loving father and family. There was no longer any reason to fight. Thalassa! You must fight. I hold the cure to your illness. No, M'Lord, she thought absently. There is no cure save death. But I can accept death now with a light heart. No!

Terran's anguish swirled around her, pricked at her skin like tiny needles, keeping her alert. She was vaguely aware of something cold and hard landing on her throat, then sliding down to rest between her breasts. She reached up, then gasped as her fingers closed about the whistle.

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CHAPTER 15 Unwin burst into the tent, his face set in rage. He grabbed Thalassa by the arms and hauled her to her feet, then dragged her from the tent. She closed her fist tight around the whistle, terrified that Unwin would take it from her. Rhaeven met them just outside, his own bearded face set, his dark eyes glowering. "Leave her go!" he bellowed. "And let her tell Sinclair exactly where we are?" Unwin retorted hotly. "She uses her magic, Rhaeven, to tell Sinclair and my father's troops how many you have here, how to best attack. Isn't that right, Wench?" He shook her roughly. "N…no!" Thalassa cried. "I use no magic!" "Liar!" Unwin struck her full across the face, sending her sprawling to the hard ground. The whistle rolled from her grasp, but in his rage, Unwin apparently didn't see it. His dagger flashed in the moonlight. "I should slit your throat now, as I should have killed Sinclair. But you may be just the bargaining tool that I need." Rhaeven roared out an epithet and delivered a solid blow to Unwin's gut. The prince doubled over with a hiss of pain, and Rhaeven hauled him upright by a handful of hair. "This is my camp, Unwin! This is my woman! You would do well to remember that!" Infuriated, Unwin slashed out with his dagger, catching Rhaeven on the forearm, and opening a large gash. The warlord bellowed in pain, thrust Unwin away from him, and snatched his own dagger from its sheath. A wicked grin spread over Unwin's face. "So, it's a duel you want, then?" He resheathed his dagger. His sword cleared the sheath with a deadly hiss. Thalassa rolled aside, then came to a sitting position to work feverishly on freeing herself of the ankle ties. Neither man paid her attention as they circled each other warily. Rhaeven's soldiers gathered around, but did not interfere. It was obvious that this was between their master and the prince. Unwin darted forward, slashing the air with his sword. Rhaeven easily eluded him. "You should never challenge a king's man," Unwin snarled. "I seriously doubt that your fighting skills are anywhere close to mine." He struck out again, forcing Rhaeven backward. Thalassa finally managed to get the ankle bonds loose, and she scrambled backward, out of the way of the two men. Rhaeven sidestepped, then lunged forward with his dagger. Despite its shorter blade, he had the advantage of arm length over Unwin, and managed to slice a thin line into the prince's shoulder. "And you, my worthless prince," the warlord said, "should remember just how I got to be in the position I am in." Unwin winced in pain as blood saturated his tunic, but did not falter as he circled, coming close to Thalassa. She shrank back, not sure just who she hoped would win this battle. Terran's words drifted through her mind. He had warned her about allowing Unwin to know of the baby. Why? Why would Unwin be a threat to… Sudden understanding took hold. Of course! The third son, the prince of nothing. If he could dispose of both Sinclair and Terran, he would be heir to the throne. Only 109

now, her son also stood in the way. Terror washed over her. She could not allow Unwin to win this battle. *** Terran watched the duel helplessly. His use of magic to send the whistle to Thalassa had cost him dearly. He was barely able to keep the vision intact, unable to get to his feet, to call for help from the drums. He looked with blurry eyes toward Boaz, who nibbled on grasses nearby. Vaoni most likely slept. Both were oblivious to his plight, while before him a life or death struggle played itself out. He closed his eyes wearily, then forced them open again lest his vision disappear. "Terran?" Vaoni's soft voice carried to him from close by. He could not summon the energy needed to turn his head or answer. She came to stand beside him, then gasped. "What have you done to yourself?" she cried, dropping down before him. Her gaze darted to the vision. "They're fighting! And I see Thalassa!" Terran tried to answer her, but could manage only a soft groan. Vaoni seemed not to notice as she bent closer to the vision. "You sent her the whistle." Her voice was incredulous and she appraised him with pure awe, before looking back at the vision. Thalassa had managed to get her bonds off, and now scrambled through the dirt, looking for the whistle. She grabbed it up, then rolled to avoid Rhaeven's feet as the man lunged again at Unwin. "You must use the whistle, Thalassa," Vaoni whispered. "You must call Aki. I am ready. I await your command." Terran started, his heart leaping at her words. "You? What are you talking about, Vaoni? You're not going anywhere!" As if to prove that true, he grasped her arm, and held her. The drums that had quieted now began again, this time loud and strong. Vaoni wrestled free of his hold, showing a strength that astounded Terran. He reached for her, but she scampered away, then stood, a small smile playing over her lips. "She calls!" Vaoni cried, throwing her head back, and lifting her small arms upward. Terran felt the shrill whistle, as much as heard it. It reverberated through his entire being, setting his nerves on fire. He fell backward, then threw up his arm to shield his eyes as dust and leaves suddenly swirled around him. Panic tore through him, armed with confusion. He could not even guess at what was happening. "Vaoni!" he screamed. "Vaoni, where are you?" He struggled to his knees, gasping from the exertion. Debris brushed across his face, clouding his vision. He blinked, and scrubbed at his eyes. Then abruptly the darkness was driven back by a great plume of fire that shot into the night sky. Terran fell backward, then sucked in his breath, his eyes widening with disbelief and wonder. Before him stood Aki, the great White Dragon. *** Thalassa let the whistle fall, gasping for breath. Please, she begged, please 110

come, Aki! If you can truly hear this call, please come and stop this madness. She again scrambled out of the way of the dueling men. Though both warlord and prince bled from several wounds, neither seemed willing to call the fight. Rhaeven's men had fallen back, obviously viewing the duel as nothing more than sport. Thalassa supposed they would have even bet on the winner, had they the nerve to do so. Even to Thalassa's untrained eye, it was apparent that the prince was tiring. His swings were slower and misplaced, his gait more stumbling. Rhaeven darted back and forth, weaving in and out, his dagger flashing like a serpent moving through water. When he raked his weapon through the air once again, and opened a long, shallow wound on Unwin's cheek, Thalassa came to her feet. She could no longer stand the thought that one of them would die before her, no matter what they had planned for her. "Please," she cried. "Please stop!" "The dragon flies!" The panicked cry echoed over the camp, followed by shrieks of terror as Rhaeven's men scattered. Panicked, the horses surged forward, straining at their ties, their terrified squeals filling the air. Unwin whirled, his gaze darting to the dark skies. Immediately, Rhaeven drove forward and buried his dagger deep in the prince's back. Thalassa screamed as Unwin crumpled, his sword dropping from loose fingers. She caught him, falling with him to her knees, supporting him, as her gaze went to Rhaeven in horror. He looked momentarily stunned, as if he wasn't quite sure what he had done, then he smiled, tilted back his head, and roared out his victory. It was a victory short-lived, however, as Aki swooped down on the campsite, fire erupting from her mouth. Rhaeven's tent went first, bursting into flames, silhouetting his massive frame. Thalassa shrieked and dragged the prince away from the flames. Rhaeven scowled into the night, then whirled, his gaze seeking, and finding, a crossbow. He grabbed it up, and cocked an arrow. "No!" Thalassa screamed. "Aki, on guard!" The dragon seemed to hear her cry. It did a sharp turn, unleashing yet another shot of flame. More tents went up with up loud whooshes. Men's dying screams filled the air as they ran, clothes aflame, towards the river. The horses finally managed to break loose, and thundered away. Rhaeven tracked the dragon's flight with the crossbow, then released the arrow. It fell short, and Thalassa could not help a sigh of relief. She started when Unwin abruptly moved in her arms. He shuddered, then with a grunt of determination, he surged to his feet and whirled toward Rhaeven. "Bastard!" he raged, and lunged forward, his dagger out. Rhaeven was caught off guard, and let out only a surprised gasp as Unwin drove his dagger straight into the warlord's chest. They fell together, Unwin atop, his weight collapsing on the weapon, driving it further still into flesh. Neither man moved.

Thalassa looked at the carnage around her, at the burned corpses of men, the still flaming tents, the two dead men before her. She briefly closed her eyes, then 111

looked skyward. "Aki!" she called, her voice soft and fatigued. "Take me home. Please, take me home."

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CHAPTER 16 Thalassa moaned softly and opened her eyes. Brilliant light assailed her senses, and she reached up to block it out. "M'Lord!" A familiar voice called out, edged with relief and joy. Thalassa blinked several times. "Eri?" Her voice was little more than a croak through a throat scratchy and dry. "Oh, M'Lady," he breathed. "You scared the wits out of me. You've been asleep so long." "Where am I?" she asked, her gaze moving over her surroundings. It wasn't a large room, but the furnishings were of fine wood that reflected both firelight and candlelamp. The blankets covering her were thick and soft, the bed she lay upon more comfortable than anything she had ever experienced. "This is the inn in Hed," Eri told her. "We were afraid to move either you or Prince Terran." "Terran?" Thalassa gripped his arm. "How is he? Is he all right? My baby? Where is he? Can I see him?" Sinclair chuckled, joining Eri by Thalassa's bed. He was clean, shaved, and dressed in silks of pale blue. His dark eyes sparkled as he appraised Thalassa. She flushed, realizing she had been staring. He chuckled. "My brother is asking much the same questions, M'Lady," he said, then nudged Eri with his elbow. "What do you think, Eri? Shall we allow the two lovebirds to see one another? To hold their child?" Thalassa felt her cheeks redden, as Eri grinned at her. "I think we'd better, before Prince Terran uses his magic to transport himself here." Sinclair laughed, turned and left the room. Thalassa's hand went to the whistle that lay in the hollow of her throat. "He did this, didn't he? He sent me the whistle with his magic?" Eri nodded. "From what Vaoni told me, yes, he did." "Vaoni!" Thalassa cried. "Vaoni from my village?" "The same. She has been traveling with Terran for days. Apparently he found her in your village when he went there looking for you." Thalassa stared up at him in shock. "He was looking for me? Why?" Eri smiled. "I guess you'll have to ask him that." He glanced over his shoulder. "Here he comes." Sudden panic swept through her, and she struggled to sit up. "Help me, Eri," she cried, tugging at her blonde curls. "He can't see me like this. I must look a mess." "You look beautiful." Terran's words floated to her from the doorway. Eri moved aside, and her gaze flew to Terran. Though he was pale, his finely-boned face set with fatigue and pain, he was as handsome as she remembered him. His dark hair had been secured in a leather tie, his lean body outfitted with silks of soft brown. He leaned heavily on Sinclair as they crossed the room. Her heart quickened, and she felt a flush creep over her cheeks as he approached. Yet, there was something wrong. He was not the man she had known those many months past, not the man who walked sure of step, who found laughter easy, loving easier, who wooed her with sweet words, and 113

gentle touches. He moved wearily, as if a great weight rested on his shoulders, as if he had resigned himself to a fate he was uncertain of. Eri bowed deeply, then helped the prince into a bedside chair. For a long moment, neither Thalassa nor Terran spoke. Then slowly, he reached for her hand, took it in his, and kissed it. Tears sprang to Thalassa's eyes. She remembered the touch, the gentleness. "M'Lord," she whispered, then quickly amended herself, suddenly aware of who sat before her. "Your Highness." Terran winced, as if her words had momentarily hurt. "You have always called me Terran; there is no reason to change that now." Thalassa lowered her gaze. "But there is, M'Lord. Before I did not know of your title. Now I do." "And that changes your feelings for me? Negates what we shared?" He placed one finger beneath her chin, and tilted her head back to look into her eyes. "I will tell you this now, Thalassa, I will put my feelings out for you. I love you. And now I must know, Thalassa. What are your feelings?" She hesitated, unable to pull her gaze from his. "I…I love you, as well, M'Lord," she whispered, then shuddered with despair. "But there is little time left. I will not –" She was interrupted by a shriek from the doorway, and Vaoni darted into the room. "Terran! Thalassa!" she cried, and leapt onto the bed, crawling onto Thalassa's lap. "Vaoni!" Thalassa cried, hugging the child to her. She kissed the top of the little girl's head, then held her back, and looked into the blue eyes. "Are you all right? You weren't hurt?" "Terran saved me," Vaoni said, her devotion evident. "And he saved you. He found the cure for the Sickness, and he healed you." Thalassa gasped, her hand going to her shoulder. She pulled the silk gown aside. No mark marred her skin. She pulled up the ruffled sleeve. Only unscarred white skin was there. Her gaze darted to Terran. He smiled. "I hope that pleases you," he said quietly. Thalassa started, then remembered her own wish for death. "It does, Your Highness," she said, then turned as a muffled cry caught her attention. A woman stood in the doorway, holding a small bundle. Sinclair smiled and gestured for the woman to enter. "Apologies," the woman said, coming forward. She bobbed her head toward Vaoni. "I tried to keep her in bed, but the moment she heard both Terran and Thalassa were here, there was no stopping her." Terran chuckled. "No apology necessary, Kamali. I'm glad she's here. And feeling so well." He reached out and tousled her curls. "And there's another who is feeling well," Sinclair said. He took the infant from Kamali, and placed him gently in Thalassa's arms. She looked down at the baby with a smile, then hugged him gently to her breast. Tears blurred her vision and rolled down her cheeks as her heart swelled with love for the child, this child she had thought she didn't want, thought she would never see again. It felt right to hold him, to smell the clean scent of innocence. 114

"Why are you crying, Thalassa?" Vaoni asked. "We can be a family now. You, me, Terran and the baby." "She's right, Thalassa," Terran said, tenderly stroking the infant's cheek. "If you will have me?" "If I will have you?" Thalassa managed. She smiled. "If you will have me." Terran smiled, and kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Then the betrothal is sealed, M'Lady." He looked up at Sinclair. "You will stand in my stead, Sinclair." Thalassa frowned, puzzled, as Sinclair answered. "I will not need to, Terran." Terran kept his voice low, as if he would rather Thalassa not hear the words at all. "Father will not accept this union, Sinclair, not with his animosity toward Zal. You know that. You will stand in my stead." Thalassa gasped, understanding sweeping through her. "No! No, you cannot give up your crown for me, Terran. You can't." "And you don't have to," Sinclair said, his voice quick but soothing. "I spoke with father, Terran. It wasn't Zal that he disliked, it was only Marna." Terran shook his head, clearly confused. "But why? What reason could there be for Father to dislike Marna?" "Because he loved me," Sinclair said. "As much as I loved Marna. But apparently her love for me was not so loyal. Father couldn't bring himself to tell me of her indiscretions, and there were many. Instead, he tried to keep me busy away from her, hoping that she would move on to other infatuations. He didn't know she was so sick when he sent me to Galtrin. Her death has weighed heavily on him all this time. And I'm ashamed to say that I added to that burden by my departure from the palace on sour terms." "I never knew," Terran mumbled. "I am sorry, Sinclair." "As am I," Sinclair told him, then smiled. "At any rate, there is no reason that Zal and Diraenia should not now be joined as one. In fact, you have Father's blessing on it." Terran stared up at him in astonishment. Slowly, a smile warmed his features, brightened his eyes. He straightened in his chair, and when he turned to Thalassa, she caught her breath. This was the Terran of times past. "So, M'Lady," he said. "I would have married you no matter what my father thought, but his acceptance has greatly sweetened the future. But what of you? Will you be content to be the wife of a prince? To live at a palace, away from the water, the ocean, the beaches you call home?" Thalassa smiled at him. "I would live anywhere you choose, M'Lord, as long as we can be together." He leaned forward, and kissed her gently, then kissed his son, as well. "You know," he said finally, "we have yet to name our son." "He has a name," Vaoni suddenly piped in. Terran looked over at her. "Does he? Perhaps you could share it with his mother and me then?" "Not yet," the child said. "First, you must free me of my bonds." "Bonds?" Thalassa looked at Terran, confused. "Vaoni is Aki," Terran said quietly. "She is one and the same. A shape-shifter sent to serve when the need arose, to bring two kingdoms together in strength." 115

"Shape-shifter?" Thalassa murmured. She had heard of shape-shifters from her mother, but had always thought them only fable. She could not see how such a small, frail child could turn into the powerful, awe-inspiring dragon she had seen. "I saw her change," Terran said quietly, as if reading Thalassa's thoughts. "It's true." He paused. "It's said that Aki answers only to the call of the Dragon Priestess. You are that Priestess, Thalassa." Thalassa shook her head, but her heart knew the truth. She had called the dragon, more than once. The great creature answered to her words, her commands. And her commands had sent dozens of men to their death. She shuddered. She did not want this responsibility, this burden. She did not want to be the Dragon Priestess. Vaoni smiled, seeming to understand Thalassa's unwillingness. She leaned forward to kiss Thalassa on the cheek. "I do this for myself, as well," she whispered, then sat back. "It's time." "Are you sure, Vaoni?" Terran asked. "I'm sure. This is how I wish to be, Terran." "But human? Growing old? To die someday?" Vaoni cocked her head, her gaze sliding to Eri. "To mature, to fall in love, to marry," she said. Eri flushed. "You're only eight," he reminded her. "I am eight years older than you." "Yes, but in eight years time, I shall be sixteen, and you shall finally be mature enough to get married." The others broke into light laughter as Eri flamed with embarrassment. Sinclair pounded him on the back. "Makes sense to me, Eri," he said. "I hereby pledge you and Vaoni." "But, M'Lord!" Eri cried. "What about in the meantime? I'm only sixteen. I…other… I mean, I would…" "You'll be too busy to be entertaining other girls," Sinclair told him. "A knight has much learning." "A knight?" Eri could scarcely get the words out. Terran smiled, and gestured toward Thalassa. "Think what you have to look forward to, Eri," he said. Eri looked from Vaoni to Thalassa, then back. After a moment, his lips turned up in a small grin, though he said nothing. Smiling, Thalassa held out her hand. Terran took it. Slowly, quietly, they said the words together, words that came from someplace deep within the Elfin Crown Prince and the Dragon Priestess: "Hand to hand, heart to heart, What was done can now restart. Power gone, power cold What is new, once was old. Voices call, hearts unite, What was dark, now is light. Powers two, now make one, Nitesh, Nitesh, we call you son." 116

ABOUT THE AUTHOR JennaKay Francis has been writing since she was 12 years old. She has written in many different genres - science fiction, childrens, mainstream, poetry - but truly found her voice and love in fantasy. She writes fantasy adventure, fantasy romance, dark fantasy and children's picture books. Her first official publication was a children's poem that was the Grand Prize winner in a contest sponsored by Half-Price Books. Her prize was a $500.00 gift certificate at Half Price Books – something she took great delight in spending. She has been published in several local newsletters, several print magazines, as well as numerous online magazines in both fiction and nonfiction. You can find a listing of her books on her homepage http://www.geocities.com/jennakayfrancis Jenna lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, their three delightful children, two wild cats, a chihuahua that thinks he's really a dog, one rat, one anole and a several tanks of tropical fish, frogs and newts. Oh, yeah, and a forest full of elves, fairies and magic. JennaKay is also Writers Exchange's Senior editor. Jenna also has an author page at: http://www.writers-exchange.com/epublishing/jennakay.htm Jenna has many books coming out from Writers Exchange both in fantasy fiction and children's picture books. OTHER BOOKS FROM WRITERS EXCHANGE E-PUBLISHING INSIDE A SNAIL'S SHELL Have you ever wondered what's inside a snail's shell? And what do snails do? Take a peek inside a snail's shell and find out for yourself.

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