The
forest holds many secrets that may never be unlocked. Wait silently, hopefully,
pausing at the bank of a stream or in a thicket edging a clearing. Maybe you
will find them and maybe not.
Night
arrives like death, unnoticed and unexpected. Watch
as the shadows slowly creep across drooping leaves, sending shafts of light
drifting to the dew-dropped grass. The light wanes with the coming dusk. Peer
closely into the foliage, where the fading sun shines like stardust falling to
the ground. Something shimmers through the shade in tiny flares of light.
Follow it with your eyes. The flashes drop, wafting gently in the breeze, and
then you realize it is only a leaf.
Somewhere
they hide, playing a dangerous game of hide-and-seek. The air echoes with their
catch-me-if-you-can chatter. Their laughter ricochets across the valley,
flooding the quiet like water through a broken dam. Resonating though the
forest, it rises in an unceasing hum.
And
then it stops.
Catch
your breath and try to remain silent. One hovers where the leaves part,
watching the clearing in utter silence. Her fragile wings beat quickly,
quietly, and then she lands. She freezes where she perched. Motion would give
her away and she doesn't want to be seen. Fear paralyzes her in the newly born
gloom.
Perhaps
you yourself should halt.
Never
disregard the warnings of the aillses, even if those warnings are
silent. Their terror is not to be unheeded. Observe carefully, because you will
see what she sees and next time you can run.
A
young woman enters the clearing, her long skirts trailing in the grass. She
looks innocent, harmless even. Her tresses glow like blood-red rubies where the
sun's last graceful finger touches the earth, then it fades and her hair is
only copper. It sways around her body like a curtain of silk, hiding her
features from the voyeurs that surround her. Perhaps she knows that they are
there.
She
kneels, her long skirts falling around her in graceful folds, rippling like
waves from a gentle tide. Her hair settles around her. The forest remains wary,
but she doesn't notice its unease.
Opening
slowly like a flower unfolding its petals, her hand drifts to rest in her lap.
In her palm, she holds a transparent amber stone. She stares at it as if hoping
it will disappear, then, so slowly she doesn't seem to move, each finger curls
to grasp it loosely. Her hand tightens.
Something
is happening.
The aillses
know her only as The Lady. They often see her in this clearing, carrying
out forbidden spells and hidden dreams. Somehow you know she is uirisg,
a child of mixed aillse and human blood. For this reason, they tolerate
her and her intrusions, but
Maybe something tells them that this time she goes
too far.
The
stone captured in her palm begins to glow blue-white and the intensity rises
until watching is nearly painful. It flashes sharply in the dark.
Behold
the mist you never noticed. It gathers in a cloud before her, uncoiling,
solidifying, seemingly with a life of its own. The air is cold and wet and
perhaps you think you are now in hell.
Taking
shape, it forms itself into the body of a man, standing insolently at
attention. His eyes are the first features to become clear.
Hear
the aillses gasp around you. Feel their alarm like the first touches of
a death knell.
Eyes
without color. Eyes without feeling. Those eyes tell the stories of complete
races crushed beneath their gaze. They tell of the barren wasteland that is
human life. They hold no mercy and no emotion. Those dark, dark eyes slowly
lighten to amber. Coldness lies buried in their depths like the deepest chips
of ice in a glacier. The rest of his features come slowly, but they do come.
Only
the aillses can see his horns.
Shudder
if you feel the need, but hold your breath. Maybe he won't see you.
His
hair, as pitch dark as midnight, falls over a chiseled face. The hollows in his
sunken cheeks are stark and prominent, emphasizing his harsh white skin. His
nose is straight, tilted slightly as if reaching for the absent moon. The
entire effect is exquisite, from a time when beauty was commonplace.
The
frozen fairy hisses and her translucent wings flutter rapidly with anger. Her
silent cry echoes in your mind.
Drągon! she shrieks,
rising from her perch.
The
air shimmers around her like a transparent silver veil undulating in the
breeze. Thousands of them ascend in a swarm. Fright and imagined peril wash
away their caution. Those amber eyes swing to capture all that he can sense.
They fall, dropping to the ground in droves. Only one escapes.
He
scampers through the forest and his soundless screams warn any who would
venture near. One word escapes his lips, so fast it trips and falls in an
unceasing panicked waterfall.
Caedan.
One
word, causing hysteria without bounds and deaths without number. One word.
Caedan.
Listen
closely and maybe you will hear it.
***
Imagine
you are she. Slip into her mind and read her thoughts, but take heed she does
not notice. Her wrath need not be incurred. It nearly rivals his in its
severity and her power is just as great.
Her
name is Kethry.
She
kneels proudly, tilting her chin and straightening her back. She will not cower
before him. Her breathing is not quite steady, racing through her lungs like
fire. It hurts to breathe. The frigid air has filtered through her blood and
crept its way into her heart.
Her
need is too great to acknowledge fear. She knows she cannot escape, but she
also knows her last hope rides on his mercy. Only he can give her what she
needs. He knows it well.
Ignore
the fear trailing its icy fingers down your spine the first time you hear him
speak. Pray it doesn't freeze you where you hide.
"The
dragons are waking, milady," Caedan states. "You have a made a grave
mistake."
She
wonders briefly how he knows she is a lady. "I did not wake you for personal
gain," she offers. Her eyes glimmer like frost on green moss. They are
covered by a sheen of helpless tears.
He
smiles, his teeth glittering sharply in the light. "It matters not. You
have disturbed our rest and the price must be paid."
Try
not to think about those stabbing teeth or what that price may be. Both have
been the birth of many nightmares.
"I
did not intend
" she begins.
He
interrupts. "You have made your point. Still, your intentions do not
change what has been set in motion."
"I
took great risk in summoning you," she admits.
Even
she knows this is a gross understatement. Danger radiates from him in waves and
colors, becoming almost tangible. His face is set and hard. His skin is white,
so white that even newly born snowflakes seem sullied, and his dark hair melts
into the shadows. His only color comes from those lethal amber eyes.
Those
cold amber eyes glitter and then suddenly he agrees. "Yes, you did. And
now I want something in return."
He
watches her without emotion. He can see the battle seethe inside her. "You
have one of our own," he says softly.
Her
lips part slightly as she realizes what he means. Her thoughts wander to her
room, to the table by her bed, where her pendant dangles from the edge. That
pendant never leaves her neck, but this time, somehow, she knew better than to
have it in her possession.
Shudder
with her now and see your dreams shatter into crystal shards. She has come here
hoping to become a savior, but maybe she will become Death instead. His
ultimatum hangs over her like a storm, raging and tearing her apart.
Try
not to tremble when he smiles again. This smile is no less predatory than the
last. Shiver if you must, but be careful not to shake the leaves.
"Think
on it, milady," he says, that cruel parting of lips never fading.
"Your need is far more tragic than is ours."
She
understands that he is aware of her plight. Something tells her that he knows
what she wants as well. Pondering how he knows this, she rises gently from the
ground. He loses his advantage and steps back.
"Our
need is tragic," she agrees. Her arm lifts and her fingers trail along her
neck, searching for the reassurance she no longer wears. He notices the
gesture, but does not comment. He may be cruel, but he will not deepen any
wounds.
His
relentless eyes mock her without any true affront. "And your cost will
equal mine. I am well aware. Do not consider lightly, milady, for you know well
that it could mean your death."
"My
death is nothing compared to that of thousands," she counters softly.
Amusement
lights his eyes and curves the corners of his mouth. "And the death of
thousands is nothing compared to that of one."
Watch
the disappointment seep into her eyes. Despite what she had dreamed, no mercy
is forthcoming. She hides her disillusion well.
"She
will not be injured," she assures, but she knows her assurance will not be
enough. She will not plead or beg, but if necessary, she will bargain. She
knows that time has come.
The
amusement fades from his eyes, leaving nothing in their honey void. His mouth
no longer smiles. "I want her back," he answers flatly. His games
have moved from whimsical to deadly.
"I
will think on it," she decides, noting how his mouth twists with
displeasure.
She
realizes the danger she is in. She tries not to think about what the cost of
this venture could be. She will sleep better without knowing.
"Vades,"
she whispers, sending him away.
The
mist returns. It weaves an eerie chase as though it searches for its tail.
Watch him slowly fade into the night and hope he is really gone. His cold,
cruel smile shimmers and then disappears. Stare hard into his eyes before they
fade. Maybe if you search intensely you will see the mercy she tried so hard to
find.
Do
not expect it.
It
lies deep within his frozen heart. The world may burn to cinders before it ever
is released.
She
pauses, standing as if transfixed, then turns to hurry toward her home. The
decision weighs heavily on her mind, but she really has no choice. Lives hang
in the balance.
Moving
swiftly, she traipses through the woods.
Follow
her now over fallen logs and fragrant dirt. Scramble through the flowering
brush and try to keep her pace. She moves quickly, as if she fears those
glacial amber eyes are watching.
She
is right to be afraid.
She
can still feel those eyes on her, unmoving and unfeeling, catching everything
she does not say. Secrets lie bare before those eyes and hers are no exception.
She runs, hoping they will lose their force.
Be
careful she does not disappear in the maze of watching trees. She flits from
place to place in keeping with her aillse heritage, and once, she
disappears. Only her blazing copper hair keeps their limbs from hiding her.
The
forest ends quickly. In the place of clogging green growth and barren brown
limbs, straggling weeds carpet the meadow before her. Maybe you can see the
outlines of stone houses or wooden huts lying peacefully in slumber on the other
side; maybe it is the castle that catches your attention.
Stay
close behind her when she sprints across the field. It is hard to see her in
the dark.
***
She
slips into the castle through the servant's quarters. The door is open and the
servants toil at their tasks. They are many. Seeming well-fed and well-dressed
in castle livery, they do not appear kind or even friendly. One cuffs another
on the head.
Shuffle
behind her and keep your eyes to the floor if you are dressed as they; stride
easily and do not deign to acknowledge them if you are dressed as she. If you
are dressed as a beggar or one from the village, pretend you have business
there and act as if you know where you are going. You may be out of place, but
the servants will not question. It is not their place to do so.
She
twists her way through the crowd. It is late, but their day is not yet done.
She sneaks up the stairs at the edge of the large kitchen, knowing that none
will follow and that she will be alone.
Do
not disillusion her; she has had enough of that this night. Pause at the base
of the stairs and let her advance before you follow. Her footsteps beat lightly
against the wood. She is the only one on the steps. If you listen carefully,
you may trail her without being caught.
She
abandons the steps at the very top and her slippers click against the broken
stone. Hopefully she will not notice the measured footsteps behind her. The end
of the hall is dark and empty, but as she pulls open a solid wooden door, light
pours out. It illuminates the hall nearly to the staircase.
Press
your back against the wall when she glances toward the stairs. Maybe the
shadows will lose you in their midst. She looks away again and enters the room.
The door slides shut, but not all the way. Creep to the edge and watch her
through the slit, but be careful you are not seen.
She
stands in front of the table by her bed and in her hands lies a sparkling
crystal pendant. Each tiny facet catches the light. She turns it over in her
hands, staring at it as though the world is ending.
Perhaps
it is.
Sighing,
she holds it to the light. The stone's purity shines brilliantly and clearly,
even in the brightness of the room. Set against the diamond clarity, two
smaller blue stones wink in tiny flashes. The jewel is so carefully carved it
almost seems to breathe and those eyes stare much as they did in life.
As
she turns it in her hands, those eyes fall heavily on you, meeting yours with
too much knowledge and too much life. They lack the blankness seen so often in
a statue's eyes. They catch the light one more time
And
then they blink.
Try
not to gasp as you realize what this pendant is. She may hear you in the quiet.
She
whispers something quietly, then, much like the stone, the pendant starts to
glow. The air shudders and it suddenly becomes pure white. It grows only
slightly until it might fit into the palm of her hand. She sets it on the
floor.
Around
her, the air takes the shape of a woman, but she is transparent. She is dressed
in a long, white sheath. It falls nearly to the floor and is slit to the waist
on both sides. It clings to her, almost blending into her skin, only her skin's
slight rose tint making them distinguishable. Even though she is only
semi-visible, her eyes burn, blue flames licking at the pupils. Long thick
black lashes, stark against her paleness, frame the flaming blue, causing them
to shine ever brighter.
Kennis.
Her name means beautiful and she is.
She
wavers in the light, sometimes blending with the shadows. Despite her obvious
power, the weight of the world lies buried in her flaming blue eyes. "You
will not win without his help," she states calmly.
Kethry
is stricken. "But, my Lady
"
Kennis
smiles. "I know what it will mean, but as you said, one death is nothing
compared to that of thousands."
Kethry
hesitates. "I do not believe that he will harm you."
She
smiles again at Kethry's naivete. "There are many ways to die, Lady
Kethry. Caedan's mere life is my death in and of itself."
"I
do not understand," Kethry answers.
"No,
you would not," she responds. "Know only that with every breath
Caedan takes, it pains me."
Kethry's
eyes grow sad. "I cannot give you to him then, my Lady."
"You
do not have a choice," Kennis replies. "I knew my fate when I sent
you for his aide."
Kethry
blinks in surprise, then shakes her head. "I cannot wish you had not sent
me."
"And
you should not," she says. "I am willing to make this sacrifice to
save your people."
Tears
well in Kethry's eyes and threaten to spill over. "I will unbind you
before I give you to him."
"Please
do not," she appeals. "Simply amend the spell so I cannot be bound to
him."
Kethry
nods, one tear trailing a crystal path down her cheek and freezing in another's
wake. "I shall then leave you tied within the pendant's web."
Perhaps
you wonder what Kethry needs from him or why her people need to be saved.
Listen carefully and maybe you will learn, but remember that it is not your
affair. The danger already ebbs too close for comfort.
Kennis
sighs and wavers in the light. Her long white hair shifts around her like
gently falling snow. "Had I only stayed with Caedan, this might have been
avoided."
She
composes herself quickly. "But then, my Lady, we would not know each
other." She pauses, hesitating briefly. "And my people still would
die."
Kennis
smiles sadly. "Yes, but not so many of them."
She
refers to Caedan, Kethry knows. She shivers, remembering those cold amber eyes.
Then she shrugs those memories away. "The plague will surely kill us, if
the drągones do not. You have given us a chance."
"I
would help you myself, if I were not bound," Kennis admits. "But you
know as well as I, this is the only shape I can assume when I am confined to
the pendant."
"I
will unbind you," Kethry repeats, but they both know that she cannot.
Kennis
shakes her head. "To unbind me would be to give your people into Caedan's
hands. You do not want their deaths."
"No,"
Kethry agrees softly, "I do not."
"You
have no choice but to trade me for a talon. Know, too, that this is not an easy
sacrifice for him," she warns. "A fraction of his power will be
contained within your grasp and he cannot gain it back."
"If
there were a way, I would return it," Kethry answers. "I want it only
for a day."
"You
ask for much," she says, "but so does he."
Kethry's
face is serious and sad. "Neither he nor I have another choice."
"No,"
Kennis agrees, "but you have found a way around that. When I am bound, his
powers nearly disappear. In leaving me bound but not to him, you have given me
the means to keep him trapped as well."
Cocking
her head, Kethry looks confused. "Trapped in what way, my Lady?"
She
waits a moment before responding, as if trying to decide how she can explain.
"When Caedan first gained power, he nearly woke my mother, which would
have destroyed both your people and mine. Because Caedan is my mate, he only
could be stopped by strengthening the bond we already had and by linking our
minds. Now that we are linked, our lives are twined together and our powers
pooled as one. It cannot be escaped. He knows my thoughts and dreams my dreams,
although from him these can be guarded."
"And
because your powers are kept from him, his are trapped as well," Kethry
concludes.
Kennis
nods and smiles. "So you see," she continues, "even in
submission you curtail his power to some degree. But," she sighs, "I
still wish that he could feel my pain."
"Caedan
has never known pain," Kethry whispers. "Only opposition. The two are
not the same."
Kennis'
eyes grow sad and the blue flame flickers as if banked. "No, they are not,
but neither you nor I can help that. It grows late, milady. Rest now and then
maybe you will better face whatever tomorrow may bring."
Nodding,
Kethry lays herself upon the bed, her eyes drifting slowly closed. Her
breathing deepens and grows steady. Kennis fades, watching her all the while.
As with Caedan, her flaming eyes are the last to fade. They meet yours steadily
through the darkness, revealing knowledge of your presence. Shrink back into
the shadows and mull over the wisdom she has just imparted to you. Keep it to
yourself. Kethry does not need to know that Caedan may well kill her when his
needs have been fulfilled. Know only that Kennis will prevent this in any way
she can.
***
In
the darkness, she dreams of Caedan. The obscurity lightens and the warmth
fades, leaving her to stand in the middle of an icy cave. A glowing arctic blue
surrounds you both, as though you are looking through a wall of solid ice with
light behind it.
Shadows
fall into the hollows of the glossy ice and the edges of the cave melt into
more shadows. The frosty blue-green color shines upon the peaks and fades into
the valleys of the cave. It may remind you of sinking to the ocean's floor. The
color is one that could only be seen when a light shines through the deepest
waters at the bottom of the purest ocean.
The
air is crisp and so silent, you might think you hear him breathe. Do not be
fooled. It is only the sound of your own breath.
Something
whistles then, warning that it comes. Still your heart. It is only the biting
wind, slithering among the glistening stalactites like a snake in winter. It
whips her copper hair across her cheeks and stings her eyes before it dies a
sudden death.
On
one side, an avalanche of broken ice spills over what might have been the
cave's mouth. Tiny slabs are scattered across the floor. On the other side, the
cave opens to a larger cavern. Through the door, the dark is so deep it seems
like an endless ocean of black water.
Pull
your jacket closer if you are chilled. The air is frigid.
A
gentle whuff echoes through the stillness and she spins around to face
the gaping portal. Her eyes go flat, determined, as though she knows what is
expected, does not like it, but will do it anyway. She steps forward, her back
straight, and moves with purpose.
As
she slips through the door, the darkness lightens, but maybe it is only your
eyes adjusting. One weak beam falls on something in the darkness, cold and
beautiful, huge despite the vastness. Maybe you wonder what it is. While you
do, the light brightens like a candle shining through the void. Each icy spike
gains clarity and every frozen edge turns clear.
Watch
her face as she realizes she has dreamed herself into Caedan's world.
Suddenly
in the quiet, the earth begins to rumble. Her eyes slide shut as if she prays,
but she has no god. Her prayers go to no one.
The
frost begins to gather before her. Maybe you expected it. The shape forms
quickly, coldly, without warning and without emotion. His golden eyes stare
down at her and perhaps you expect him to be angry. He is not.
Quietly,
he says, "Your father bestowed much power upon you when you were
born."
Her
eyes widen and she denies his statement. "My father knew nothing of magic
or of what I do."
He
smiles then, slyly, like he knows something she does not. "You speak of
Galen," he acknowledges, "and you are right. He had no power. I do
not speak of him."
"If
you do not speak of Galen," she answers, "then of whom do you
speak?"
"Your
father," he replies softly. "You did not know him and never will. It
matters not. Your mother and adopted father did well in creating the story of
your birth."
Her
moss green eyes watch him warily. She does not know of what he speaks.
"Galen was my father," she says, almost angrily, to correct him and
any delusions he may have.
"If
so you say, then so it is," he shrugs.
"This
I know," she answers and her eyes smolder like the green in the deepest,
hottest part of fire.
He
ignores this statement and her anger, for he knows that Galen is not her
father, despite what she may believe. Galen had no power because he was a
human. "You need my talon," he states coldly, changing the subject.
He
no longer accommodates or tries to make her comfortable. He may have pushed the
subject if he wished, but he knows it would have gotten him nowhere.
She
nods, acknowledging this. She knows he has pulled this thought from her own
mind. Here in his territory, he can do this.
"Were
you deceitful, you would steal it while I sleep." He gestures to the form
of a large black dragon slumbering against the cave wall. She shivers when his
calculating amber eyes fall on her, then he smiles. "But I know that you
will not. You seem to have the code of honor so many humans lack."
She
stares back at him, refusing to acknowledge his approval. "Perhaps I do
not wish to become your dinner."
He
laughs. The sound is harsh and cold, as though it has been unused. "I see
you have finally found your courage."
She
shifts her body closer to him, feeling somewhat more at ease. Wonder why this
statement makes her feel more comfortable if you are curious, but do not
question too deeply. She does not know herself.
He
continues, "You will need that courage when you fight your sorcerer. It
will not be easy to destroy him, even with the talon."
She
shrinks back, her comfort lost. "How do you know why I need the
talon?"
He
laughs, amused, wondering how she knows so little when she inherited so much.
"You need not be so startled. Kennis shields her mind well and does not
give your secrets away. I know this is the only way to kill one who is uirisg,
so do not be suspicious."
"It
is human nature to be suspicious, at least to some degree."
"And
weak and cruel as well," he responds, his eyes glinting coldly. "But
you are none of these."
"You
do not know this," she says.
"I
do know this," he corrects, "and this is why I know you will stab the
talon through your magician's heart without any qualms."
"Murder
is a grave deed," she answers sadly.
He
smiles, his white skin stretching across his face like supple stone. "The
death of one is nothing compared to that of many," he reminds. "And
it is the only way to end the plague. Only with his death may your people be
cured." He pauses, then continues softly, "Do not become weak now,
when you are so close to your goal. I may very well refuse to help you."
"How
callous of you to taunt me. But then, I think that is in your nature."
His
smile never fades. "You are right. It is something you should not
forget."
"It
is something I will never forget," she murmurs and begins to fade,
wavering in the scant light.
Know
that she is waking up. The ordeal will soon be over and you will no longer feel
compelled to watch the drama unfold before you.
"Be
sure you do not. I have your promise, then, that you will use the weapon I give
you as it should be used." He watches her closely, unmoving, illuminated
oddly by the warm blue light.
"I
will use it as I should," she promises, her shadow becoming ever less
substantial. "The plague will die only when its creator is dead. I will
not miss his heart."
He
shrugs. "No matter where you aim, it will be fatal. Even a scratch from a
dragon's claw is deadly to one who is uirisg." He smiles slyly.
"Be careful you are not cut yourself."
"It
will not harm me," she replies, her voice fading with her form,
"Humans may be cured with a simple spell."
She
dwindles out of sight, but you remain behind. Caedan remains still, unmoving,
bathed in suddenly frosty shadows. Now that she is gone, the light has lost its
warmth.
Just
before he disappears as well, he whispers, "Yes, but you are not
human."
Then
he vanishes.
The
shadows grow, sucking all the color, all the life, and then there is only
blackness.
***
The
forest is quiet, still, as if it knows what is occurring. The fog hangs heavy
as she darts between the trees. The aillses are silent. No chatter swims
in the cold blanket of air.
Her
fingers clutch her pendant tightly and her knuckles are white with the strain.
Her thoughts are focused solely on what she has done and what will happen when
he finds out. Following Kennis' instructions, she has cast a spell denying
Caedan the power to use the pendant. She knows he will not be pleased.
Stop
again in the bushes when you reach the clearing. This time, you are here to see
Kethry and not the fairies. Perhaps you wonder if they were a figment of your
imagination.
Maybe
they were.
She
again kneels at the center, bringing out the pale amber stone. As if you are
seeing it for the second time, her hand tightens slowly around it. Her other
hand does not lose its grip on Kennis' pendant.
As
she murmurs the words, the heavy fog gathers and thickens, taking on his shape.
His cold eyes stare down at her bowed head.
A
frisson of fear may shoot down your spine once again, but this time when he
speaks, he smiles.
"I
see you have made your choice."
"As
we both know, I have no other choice to make," she responds, "and
Kennis will not hear of sacrificing my people at her expense."
He
steps back as though her words pain him. "Kennis knows naught of what she
truly means to me."
"You
have not shown it to her," she replies. "She knows only of the pain
you have caused her."
He
drops to the ground beside her, his hand stretching toward her. "Give her
to me," he commands.
Although
her grip cannot get any tighter, she squeezes like it can. "When you give
me what I need."
She
will not let him dictate how this exchange will go. His amber eyes cloud with
anger and you may wonder if she has brought about her death with this
statement. Danger flows in the air when she speaks to him like that.
He
relaxes and stands, his eyes becoming clear. He knows now that she has dedicated
herself to what must be done.
"Come,
then," he says. "Follow me and you shall have it."
He
extends one strong hand to her and she reaches for it. The amber stone falls
forgotten in the grass. He murmurs a quiet incantation. They shimmer and then
they disappear.
Around
you, the forest remains quiet and undisturbed. The fog rests in heavy white
clouds, trailing along the carpet of grass. No breeze, no sun, and no motion
penetrate the mist. The forest seems to hold no life.
Then,
like the gossamer wings of a firefly twinkling with light, they reappear. A
large, obsidian claw rests in Kethry's hand and around Caedan's neck is the
glittering crystal pendant.
"Use
it well, milady," he warns, "for you will not get another."
"I
will use it as I should," she repeats, promising for the second time.
Tears glimmer in her eyes. Somehow through the fear and the distrust, Caedan
and she have become friends.
He
smiles softly, the coldness fading for just a moment. "I know you
shall," he responds quietly, and leans to kiss her on the forehead. It is
a gesture of goodwill and not affection, but do not mistake the display, for he
means both. Kethry has earned his respect, despite his intolerance for the
human race.
Keep
in mind that she is not human and that he would not do the same for you.
She
pulls back, hesitating, waiting to see what this will mean. His face does not
change and she gets no reaction.
"Now
is the time," he says, "before you lose your new-found courage."
She
nods, then turns and runs back through the forest. Do not follow her; she goes
where no mortal soul can tread.
He
stays where she left him, watching after her and fingering the pendant at his
neck. He knows what she has done. Kennis remains bound to the pendant. Her
power is out of his reach.
He
cares only that she is with him again.
The
mist begins to dissipate and he begins to disappear with it. His eyes meet
yours, but do not be alarmed. He has known you were with Kethry the entire
time. He allowed it, just as he accepted the pendant knowing the restrictions
she placed on it.
He
acknowledges you coldly, then he, too, is gone. The fog lifts and sun shines
through the forest once again.
Maybe
you wonder where the drągon and the uirisg have gone. Maybe you
wonder if this is the end and if what happens now will be forever unknown.
Maybe you believe that all of this is true.
Maybe
you are right.
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