There were wide open markets in Faustben, with every ware a man could have on open display. Stalls of all assorted colors lined the streets, with smells of warm food and warm ales. With chilled wines piled in long troughs meant for horses water, but instead filled with ice and snow from the mountains, where the wines were set in beautiful glass bottles of all sizes and shapes. Vedette stayed a few paces behind Onainat and watched the woman carefully. Her new friend had what Vedette liked to call fast hands. She'd turn something over and have it up her sleeve before someone could bat an eyelash, and there would be an ugly coin or a rock of somesort in the thing's place. Vedette had enough money with her to pay for more than dresses, but she certainly didn't have enough to buy everything Onainat would have an eye for.

( The other dragon seemed to have an eye for shiny things. )

He should have been interrogating prisoners. There were four of them. As more than one lieutenant had pointed out, he was not an expert in interrogation. His training was that of a soldier, not that of a questioner, and it was important that he know the difference. That he keep himself apart from all of this. That was what found him not in the hall of the iron bars but in the hall of the creaking wood.

There were many such chambers in a castle. Long, rectangular rooms of naked stone that held banners from bygone eras. When he was a boy, and Gerbold had brought him to this place, it had been difficult not to admire the banners. There was history woven into their fabric. He'd stared long after he was meant to. Gerbold had been forced to drag him away. Now they seemed merely old. On the verge of becoming threadbare. Ulbarich had no idea what the future held for him.

( The roots he had were being cut away, little by slow, it seemed. )

The Otter and Fowl wasn't very far from the castle, but far enough away for her liking. She went there because he suggested it and because she hoped at least if he knew where they were that he might come to find them. But the hope was small because of how Ithacles had reacted, and even more so because of how she had reacted herself. The main of the inn was a Tavern, like most inns in the capitol it had too warm insides. Wood and stone keeping the heat of fireplaces inside the walls as much as they could. It was cold enough at night that you could set out water and it would be ice in the morning. Solid ice. It was those nights that Vedette enjoyed the best. But here she had Onainat to think of to a warm inn with many great big fires was the best idea. Ulbarich was still silent as he accompanied them. She wondered why he was so silent. Why he was taking them, and what exactly had happened in her absence.

( There were likely too many things to say and not enough time to say them. )

The walk into Faustben's capital was the hardest one she'd had to endure for a very long time. Those men guarding the entrance to the city itself knew her by sight but neither saluted. She didn't know if she were a Captain any longer but she felt naked without her uniform as she strode towards the castle with Onainat only a few steps behind her. It wasn't nearly as cold as the pass to get here and Onainat had shed a few of those jackets she'd been wearing. But kept the hat firmly on her head. There was only a light dusting here in the main capital. Eventually everything would be snowed in and men would push and shovel the snow around so that people could walk freely to and from places. Still everything was iced down. Icicles hung from shop signs and from rooftops. And the castle loomed in the distance with a fresh coating of snow on its higher towers.

( It looked like a picture. )

There was one good thing about the journey from Chlen to Faustben, there were a great many outposts to stop at and plenty of wine to be consumed. It wasn't that the drink could erase their sadness, but it kept them from thinking of it too much. At least, it did for Vedette. She wondered now if that was all there was left. The name she'd taken up in the human world was the one she chose to give out, the one she chose to be called by. No one said Iluq the way Koe had, and now he could no longer say it. Perhaps in time she would feel alright with someone calling her that again, but Onainat seemed to understand. They took turns riding Red, though Vedette knew it would have been far easier to leave the beast tending a field somewhere and flying the rest of the way... neither could leave him.

Red was as much Koe's friend as he'd been Koe's horse, and neither of them would abandon him even if the Horse might have wanted it. Instead they reached that last outpost before they would have to venture up into the mountains toward Faustben's capital. There Vedette had retrieved a good amount of her credits in the country, the money was used to buy Onainat some warmer clothes, and Vedette a new riding cloak. She did not need a good thick jacket, or three, like Onainat did. But a nice cloak was the only thing she'd need in the mountains. She refilled her quiver with arrows and restrung her bow over a dinner of far too much warm stew. Once they left the outpost there was little in the way of warm meals unless Vedette lit a fire and she was never eager to.

( Onainat was more than willing to start a fire every time they stopped. )

The gypsies left them at the border. Onainat had thanked them in the way family might, embracing them and kissing their cheeks. After they were gone, she helped Iluq strap all of their belongings to Red. Her father's body, tied to a make-shift cart and covered in linen, was to be pulled by Onainat's own hands. She insisted on this. She was not as strong in her human form as Iluq and her palms were not used to the roughness of wood, but it felt right to pull the cart through the trees alone. No sound carried in the forest but that of the birds sitting in the branches and the wind.

Onainat never believed in marking her childhood home. The forest floor, abandoned trails, the fingers of afternoon sun raking through the trees: these things were stronger than any ink or engraving. If the gods gave her nothing but her fingers, she could feel her way. This was the first patch of the world she'd loved. It wasn't just that her father was from here. It was the presence of this forest, of where their home once stood. It was as if a place could be a living, breathing character in her life. One that never moved or judged but existed so vividly that it stuck sweetly to the insides of her heart.

The walk through the trees seemed long to Onainat. Lost in thought, she did not keep track of where she was until the soft crunch of leaves beneath her boots gave way to waist-high grass. Onainat looked up as she waded into a sea she'd missed. Green waves of grass rippled outward in the shadow of the mountains. At the other end of the field, near a crooked old plum tree, was the remnants of a poorly constructed wall.

"We're here," she said to Iluq. She looked over her shoulder. "If you go look for the materials you will need for a marker, I will..."

She trailed off, walking a little farther before setting down the cart and ignoring the shiver that moved through her muscles from the effort.

( I will take care of things here. )

Onainat decided, as she collected all of their belongings and began speaking with the distraught innkeeper, that they would have to travel to what-was-Clhen on legs instead of wing. There was wide-spread violence in the country and whispered word of men using dragon scales in the Free Cities. Onainat did not know what to make of that, but she wasn't going to take a risk. Not when Iluq was traveling with her.

Preparing for a journey kept her hands busy and her mind nimble when everything in her life should have gone still. Onainat had to force Iluq to concentrate so that they could make sure her father's body could be carried without worrying for the smell, or that the fragile magic around his human skin would break too early. Danger would come for them if someone knew they were transporting a deceased dragon instead of what was once a respected bard. It felt cruel to speak of her father only as flesh to be preserved until burial. It felt unreal. Yet she managed to clean his face without her hands shaking too badly when the time came to secure his body to be moved. Most of Onainat's reserves were used in getting Iluq to use her magic, in all its cold wonder, to chill her father through to the bone.

( She tried to say as little to Iluq as she could... )

The dreams were fitful.

Long after Onainat had gone to her own room, long after he'd exhausted his words, and long after Iluq's breathing had grown steady Koe had finally managed to find sleep. What he found while he was sleeping were images and memories he would just as soon forget. The road, after Taereme died. One lost soul after another. Ilyien's face, streaked with blood, weeping those drops of red onto the cracked earth. A child being eaten by some ravenous cannibal. Minaht's face taunting him with memories of what had been, and what would be once again. They were the dreams that always came with a glass of wine. Some drank to forget. Some drank for pure enjoyment. Koe did not think a day would come for the rest of his life when spirits would be enjoyable to him, for the images they conjured. For the damage they could do.

( Dreams too often felt a weapon against the infirm mind. )

They said the Flying Gardens was one of the most beautiful sights in all of the Free Cities. She'd seen them the last time she was in Agethlea, though it seemed ages ago now. The city was in such a state of disarray now that Vedette thought it foolish to venture far from the inn they were temporarily staying at. Hyacinth Cross was a fine inn, run by an elderly couple which seemed to make everyone feel as though they were family. At the heart of the city itself it didn't seem to hold the same madness that the streets did. Nor did the innkeepers seem as troubled as the other residents of Agethlea. Perhaps it was just because they were happy to have someone staying here who could pay, or because they thought someone who looked like Vedette did would not appreciate anything but a gentle happiness from those whom she chose boarding from.

Vedette would have felt more comfortable if the pair were weeping nonstop rather than the seemingly forced niceties they projected outwardly. She thought of staying in the room she'd purchased and waiting for Koe there but the sounds of the City from her window drew her down into the common area. This place had smelled of flowers once. Long before this couple owned the place, and probably long after they did as well. But now the only smells which she could make out were fire and ash.

( Some messanger of sorts had blustered in shouting about a fire. )

They were clean now, washed as well as they could in a river that wasn't yet too cold. Actually it seemed warmer by the day. They just kept moving mostly. Sleeping when it was required and walking most of the time. Koe was very gracious to always offer her his horse but Vedette still didn't have a taste for riding horses. She was more used to giving them off to farms where they would live their lives not so much as a beast of burden, but as a partner in work. Humans did like their horses, naming them and tending to their needs when it could be done. Poorer farmers often had mules as they were cheaper to purchase and did harder labor for less food. But a fine horse could do very much for a man. A companion, a friend, an ear or shoulder to listen to his woes. Vedette simply did not feel that way for them. She felt guilty riding them.

She'd lived for a decade and a half surrounded by men who thought Dragons were nothing more than beasts so she felt as if she was abusing the creature by riding upon it so often. but when the day felt hot and the sun was on her too much Vedette could not move like Koe could. Her face drew pale and paler and her eyes heavy lidded. Ready for sleep, ready to change, ready to make it snow so she could be comfortable. instead she then laid against the horse's back and neck and relaxed. Catching shade under her old uniform jacket, the spare. At least it was heavy and black, at least it kept the sun from scorching her. Not that it was miserable hot. Not yet. They still had far to travel in open hot plains..

( She would miss the mountains. )

It was colder outside of the tent then inside of the tent and she was glad for it. Her mood was a little panicked, and a lot confused. Panicked because she didn't want him to leave her there alone and confusion over what exactly caused him to leave. What could it have been? Did he know something she didn't, was he as worried as she was over the fact that Master Ilyien didn't seem to know whether or not what he was doing was right. Vedette was pretty sure she didn't want to run into a band of phoenix again, but it did seem to mean something. Her head was as full as her heart was but she didn't know which was steering her now. She'd felt something was amiss, something huge, something unnamed and that was why she'd gone after Koe. She didn't even hesitate as she ran past the gatherings of people, of the Thunderbolts, and of the tents that had once held her entire life. Ithacles and Faustben.. putting them behind her had felt so much harder until she'd walked into that tent and saw Koe again.

( Now she was chasing him down. )

One naked hand firmly in the small of Sabev's back, he pushed her forward. She wanted to stay - and doubtlessly to try to help the burns they'd both seen on the captain's hands - but there could be none of that. The Prince had given his orders and it was to Ilyien to follow them. Apart from that, the sweet temper of the younger phoenix in front of him probably had never dealt with the closed hearts of the ones in the Outer Realms. At home, assisting others was as natural and as common as fire-building. Birds who never met before would assist in mending the wounds of another. Here.... Here it was different. It always had been.

His mind was on other things - how to proceed, how to lure the others to him, how to keep the prisoner from escaping - and he had just begun to lower his mental defenses long enough to mindspeak to Sabev about his formulating plan, when the unforgettable, unmistakable strains of a certain song filtered back to him. He stopped mid-stride and turned around...

Tidraq. Of course, Tidraq.

Two wide steps closed the distance between the two men. Ilyien swiftly, firmly set a hand over the strings spread over the opening of that instrument. "It would hardly seem the time, old friend," Ilyien grit between his teeth.

Tidraq was enjoying this. The merriment in his eyes, that impish twinkling, was too prominent for Ilyien to mistake. With a growl that was so stifled in his throat that it almost seemed a grunt, the firebird swept his free arm backward, catching the edge of the tent flap that he'd just pushed Sabev through. "After you," he said. And then, seeing the one who had saved him from the curses of the Deadlands, he added to Shine, "And you, Lady."

Odd. Ilyien expected that Shine would follow him and Sabev. She had come with them on this endeavor. Of course she would see it through. But what of Tidraq? Ilyien's eyes had missed the flecks stained on Tidraq's collar - old blood, not new. What exactly had happened that Tidraq had been stained with blood? It was strange; the dragon had no need to ever draw blood, to ever be around blood at all. Such was his skill.

Perhaps he had been healing some of the villagers.

Idle thoughts. They were hardly relevant now. Ilyien ducked through the tent flap and followed Sabev, Tidraq, and Shine.

Vedette didn't even know where to begin. She was standing in the mouth of his tent, what was left of her uniform was sitting on the table there inside of it. Torn to absolute shreds, save the jacket she hadn't been wearing. Ithacles must have retrieved it from her tent after everything happened as as for what was left of the rest.. well. That's what happened to clothes when you were forced to change while wearing them. The rule was to never wear anything you loved when there was a chance you might have to change form. It was a good rule, she hated losing nice things during a transformation.. her true form. She already missed it. It felt like years since she'd done such a thing, but it hadn't been. Just weeks. Before she'd come to Astarii.. before this whole mess..

( He was looking at her and she didn't know what she was going to tell him. )

The need to know just what had happened banked most of the accusation in eyes trained on him -- most, but not all. He needed no inborn phoenix ability to read their emotions; they were written clearly now in their expressions: dismay, betrayal, anger, and desire for retribution. Those expressions were why he was not looking at the ones gathered with him in the small tent now. Raking a naked hand through travel-greased hair, Ilyien continued to squint into the lamplight. His human eyes hurt from it, but the phoenix in him couldn't stop staring. He had never before felt so separated from his people than tonight. Tonight, when he refused to return to them. It had not been the wrong choice. But it had been a choice. His own choice. ( His one choice. )

They were in the foothills of the Central Mountains - not high enough for the cold to be painful yet, but high enough that Ilyien could feel the difference. Cold was to phoenix as mud was to fleshlings - wearying after a time, and difficult to shake. In the silver glow of the winter moon, it had been impossible to miss Sabev's discomfort. Surely, she couldn't have learned of how mountainous areas could drain their kind -- not after such a sheltered life as she'd led. She must have known, of course; she would have been taught at some point about the chill of other regions of Caeleste before she left her city walls. But knowing and knowing were two things entirely. The Guard still recalled - even after the Risings between now and then - the first time he spent the night in the mountains. He had done it alone.

And so, not so long after they'd made camp and finished their meal, not so long after most had bedded down for the night, Ilyien drew Sabev silently to his side. As he suspected, she was burning too hotly, overcompensating for the weather around them. It was better, he told her without words, to keep a lower, more stable temperature -- which cost less to them and still provided some measure of relief. She would learn it for herself soon enough. For just then, however, he set his arm around her and shared his warmth. As intimate as the gesture seemed, for Ilyien it was an extension only of duty, of honor. He could not allow her to suffer needlessly. Sabev seemed to understand, or perhaps it was just exhaustion -- but whatever the cause, she'd dropped into a grateful curl against his side and into sleep almost immediately.

His was the second watch of the night. There were enough warriors in the party that it was not necessary for him to take any other shifts, and the rotating schedule allowed a full night's sleep between watch nights. Ilyien could have chosen to take a few hours rest before his shift began, but tonight felt... different. As the moon crept higher in its orbit, then began its shift toward the opposite horizon, a tugging presence grew in his mind. He could not place what it was -- but it was terribly familiar, even for its faintness. He turned the sensation over and over again, examining it as a child would examine a puzzle - with equal amounts of frustration. But the awareness would not be named before the appropriate time. Only after the barren branches all but obscured the moon overhead did Ilyien understand what the feeling meant.

They - he and Sabev - were not alone.

The eagerness that swelled in his chest at the recognition of his own kind was nearly enough to push him to his feet. Were Sabev not sleeping soundly beside him, he would have moved, would have saddled and rode out to meet the approaching phoenix. As the minutes ticked by, he could finally make out the number of them - four, to be exact, all males. And all, he realized minutes later, Guards. They were his brothers. And from the as-of-yet tenuous connections he made with them through this distance, he understood their intent: they had come to find him. Him alone.

That got him on his feet. He was grinning as Sabev lifted her head. "Do you feel them?" he asked her silently. But he could see from her expression that she did. Offering his hand, he helped her stand before he turned toward the closest elven guard. "Four men approach from the south," he said. "They are colleagues of mine."

The elf seemed ready to argue, but in that very moment a short-range scout ran on silent feet to the Thunderbolt in front of the Guard. His news was the same - four soldiers riding with intent toward the camp. As the Thunderbolt turned to look at Ilyien with an expression that read, How did you know that?, Ilyien himself found questions of his own. How did the four know his location? Ilyien had long ago ceased reporting to the Praetor. And why now did they come looking for him? There could be only one answer: one of the Guards was an Ascendant -- if not a Psion.

"I'll go out to meet them," Ilyien said. But even as the words left his mouth, the sure and steady sound of hooves on rocky ground sounded at the far end of camp. Odd indeed that they would ride with such urgency in the night. His initial excitement had quickly faded. Something was amiss. He had never before been sought out - not even at The Breaking.

Ilyien turned on his heel and started immediately for the other side of camp. Their side of camp.

There was nothing left for her if she decided to leave Faustben. She may have owed Ithunvel her life, but the man was now dead and there was nothing she could have done to prevent that. She'd saved his life as much as she could and he lived to a very old age before his health fell beyond that which the healers could deal with. What was she suppose to do now? She thought until recently that she'd live there until she was certain Ithacles and his sister no longer needed her, but that day seemed to be fast approaching now. Her friend was questioning what she was. He was angry with her for being angry with him. She'd overstayed her welcome, or at least it seemed as much to her.

She abandoned that dying fire. As Ithacles had said, she'd been strangling it of the air it needed to survive. Well so was he. So was Faustben. She stripped her jacket off and deposited over her pack as she stormed into the surrounding wood. The cold would never make her shiver and she had no fear of being alone. Her cold eyes cast about the wood for a moment before she settled down on a patch of grass and dropped back until she was completely down. She could see the stars through the branches of the trees. Astarii felt like it'd been forever ago, and yet it hadn't been. Was everything going to feel like that now? Seconds seemed like days. She was older than she'd ever admitted to Ithacles. He suspected she was.. something else. She was something else.

( She was a dragon. )

Vedette was a soldier of Faustben, a private guard to the King, or to his family. Without Ithunvel being alive she has been jostled for years between the remaining members of the family. But Ithacles was somewhat her constant companion. They had been, and were friends. But after his antics in Astarii Vedette had felt like an alien beside him. She was angry for the way he'd treated her, or rather, spoke to her in front of Vata. It was if she was some common dog, to be ordered around like that. She knew he had every right, as Prince of Faustben, to order her around in such a way but he just didn't normally. She wasn't a human soldier, she wasn't even an elf like those Thunderbolts.. so used to orders that were probably yelled in the heat of battle. She was a Dragon. No man commanded a Dragon. Sometimes she forgot about that, sometimes she honestly saw herself as just a human..

But she wasn't. And she could not ignore it now. Not with Koe there. Koe was a dragon too. Koe was.. more than just that. He was something else to her. Something deep and meaningful that she hadn't thought about in so long. She wanted to find him alone, or go somewhere so they could be alone. It had been quite awhile since she'd seen him, but he'd never been too far from her thoughts. At least, not when she had time to think of her other life. That of Iluq. Her father was also at the front of her thoughts when she thought of herself as a dragon. He'd always told her to be proud, and strong. To be brave and bold. To never kill without mercy, but to never allow herself to be killed. Their blood too precious to spill. What was she now? Was she Vedette? Or Iluq? A servant or the master?

She had been.. serving for so long. She owed a debt to Faustben. She owed hr life to that country, which she did love as it was still shadowed by the mountains which were once her home. She still owed them that, but for how long? How long could she ignore what she really was? How long could she keep it from those that mattered to her so much? Was that why it bothered her? That Ithacles had ordered her around when she.. when he'd..

( The fire she'd carefully made was dying again. )

Orc blood reeked.

Even after having changed clothing, even after having covertly changed forms briefly to burn all traces off his skin, Ilyien could still smell the stuff on him. It hung as a miasma in the air around him - and the other warriors who marched with him up the mountain pass. They were not, as he had learned, Prince Ithacles' men. After having heard the tale, Ilyien selfishly found himself grateful for being turned away from a city rife with such dishonor. Still, the soldiers of this Lord Ilúvatar Voronwé had proven themselves valorous and capable. They lost but one of the refugees at the beginning of the skirmish; the thirty-three others were still shaken, but unharmed.

( Ilyien was not certain he could have claimed the same. )

"I'm sure it's all very tragic," said the elven guard at Terestai's south gate. "It always is. But refugees still cannot pass into the city."

There was a short pause. Behind the phoenix came the sound of a rasping, wretched cough. Ilyien's gloved hands tightened at his sides. Leather creaked. The exhaustion, the hopelessness, the fear that wafted off the sad group behind him was a constant reminder of his duty. Defend the helpless. Shelter the weak. Protect those who have need. There were only thirty four of them. Thirty four were brave enough to leave their dying village behind them in the hopes of escaping the creeping sickness of the Deadlands. Thirty four who had trusted in Ilyien, Sabev, and Shine to take them to a place where they could start over. Now they stood at the gates of that place, only to find it barred. Anger rose sunset-bright over him.

"I'm sure," Ilyien said at last, gritting the words carefully and distinctly through his teeth. "That an arrangement can be reached. If I might speak with your superior." It was ignoble to think of running the guard through --

The elven guard looked down his aquiline elven nose and smiled without mirth. "He's occupied, I'm afraid."

"I'll wait."

"You will go."


( Ilyien waited. )