Chapter 9

Tarrin would not wake up.

That single fact more than had everyone on edge. His body was whole, but his wings were still shredded, in tatters, and he would not wake up. Not even Miranda’s healing nor any spell she attempted to cast could rouse him from his unconscious state. Her healing could not restore his wings, the magic just seemed to slide off of them like water, and the state of those wings seemed to hint that Tarrin was still grievously injured, in more ways than simply what damage was done to his mortal body.

It lent itself to more than a few troublesome complications. No one could hold onto Tarrin and keep a mount stable in the air because of his great size, not even Azakar, so the Pegasi, created by Tarrin specifically to get them around quickly, were now forced to galloping along the ground. Mist and Kimmie were still missing, Phandebrass was nowhere to be found, and what was worse, the only person who could quickly find and communicate with them all was in no state to do so. There were church soldiers, Demons, and men wearing black tunics that seemed to have rank over everyone—Hunters, Miranda had guessed, and Dolanna did not disagree—swarming the plains south of Pyros.

Or what might be left of it. They saw the titanic volcanic eruption from where they had been waiting, as the towering cone of the volcano suddenly burst forth bright lava that illuminated the entire northern horizon, and that eruption only intensified as time wore on. The earth shook and rumbled with nerve-jarring regularity as the mountain to the north seemed to spew forth an endless flow of liquid rock, and ash began to fall on them as burning cinders created streaks of brilliant red in the sky, molten rocks that had been ejected from the volcano with such force that they had managed to travel longspans before falling back to the earth. One of those fiery missles very nearly hit Azakar’s massive winged charger, and that was Dolanna’s indication that it was just too dangerous to wait any longer. They had no idea what happened to Mist and Kimmie, but they knew that if anyone could find them, it would be Mist. She would reach the camp and see them gone, then track them down.

But the flaming cinders were only one danger. Four times in the span of an hour, they were ridden down and attacked by mounted patrols of church soldiers, each one being led by a vulture-headed, winged Demon. Those flying Demons were finding them from the air and directing the ground forces to them. Haley, Azakar, and Ulger were forced to defend the host, for Dolanna’s finite amount of magic would not be used unless she had absolutely no other recourse. But Dolanna’s magic turned out to be not needed, for Miranda stepped up and displayed the little known ability of Priests to use their magic offensively. Miranda knew any number of powerful combat spells, and she used them against the church soldiers, disrupting them, banishing the Demon that was leading them, breaking them up and giving the two Knights and the Were-wolf enough of an advantage to finish off groups of more numerous adversaries. The Pegasi seemed to have no trouble operating in a fight on the ground, keeping their wings tightly pressed up against their bodies, effectively pinning the legs of their riders and making it nearly impossible for them to fall out of their saddles, and displayed their greater intelligence by predicting and anticipating what their riders were going to do. They would look at the situation and react with surprisingly accurate combat instincts, which made it much easier for the Knights and the Were-wolf to take control of a skirmish.

They retreated to the south for half the night, as Azakar carried Tarrin’s inert form across his saddlebow, forced to share his mount with a highly upset Fireflash and an almost grimly concerned Sarraya, then he would hand off his precious cargo to Dolanna, whose small Pegasus would struggle with the oversized Were-cat’s bulk added to her rider’s slight weight. Those times when Tarrin was slumped over her saddle, his feet nearly dragging the ground, Dolanna tried as best she could to assense what was wrong with him, using up her precious reserves of Sorcery with probing weaves used by healers to determine the extent of one’s injuries.

What she found made her very, very nervous. Tarrin’s wings were more than a simple extension of his hidden divine abilities. They were much like a metaphor, a symbol, of that power. When he used his powers, the wings reacted, as they must. And when he used more power, the wings expanded in size, as if to grant him the ability to do as he wished. His wings were his power, were that divine aspect of his dual existence, and whatever the One had done to him, it had injured him at that level. Miranda had healed his mortal body, but she could do nothing to heal that other part of him. What she found after studying what was left of his wings was that they were not healing. In fact, upon closer inspection, she realized that they were slowly dissolving away, as the shreds and tendrils hanging limply from the top edges slowly yet inexorably evaporated, ceased to be.

His wings were dying. And if his wings died, then so would he.

But there was absolutely nothing that she could do, that any of them could do. Their mortal magicks had no effect on Tarrin’s wings. None of them knew what to do to heal a god, for that was the side of him that had been injured, and that was the side of him that they had to heal, and heal quickly. At the rate that his wings were dissolving away, Tarrin would not live to see the sunrise.

Then it hit her. There was only one chance here, one possibility. His sword. He had not returned with it, so he was separated from its power. The sword was linked to him, and in a way it contained the power that he was either unable or unwilling to wield in the mortal world, keeping him separate from the majority of his true power. Tarrin’s wounding would have weakened the power of the sword—they were linked—but it would still have power, and that power might be what Tarrin needed to stop the slow degeneration of his wings and restore the divine aspects of his power.

She called them to a halt around midnight as her smaller Pegasus pounded its hooves across the plains in step with Azakar’s charger, her hand on Tarrin’s wing even as they rode, keeping careful track of their rate of decay. She turned her mount to face them, and looked at them all grimly. “Tarrin is dying,” she announced without any kind of warning. “I do not know what to do to help him, but all I can think of is that we must find his sword. It is part of him, and maybe its power can stop what is happening.”

“What’s happening, Dolanna?” Sarraya asked fearfully from Tarrin’s back.

“His wings are dying, little one, and if that happens, then he will die with them,” she answered. “Tarrin and his sword are linked, for the sword is a part of him. There is nothing that Miranda or I can do for him, so finding his sword is our only option. We can only hope that the sword will realize the extent of his harm and do what it can to help him. That is going to mean that we have to turn around and ride back the way we came, through the soldiers. We must fight our way back to Pyros and locate his sword as quickly as possible.”

“Why don’t we send a couple of people ahead through the air,” Ulger offered. “They won’t be able to touch us—“

“That’s not an option unless I go with you,” Miranda warned. “You don’t want to face a Demon in the air, Ulger. Not without some magical backup. And if I leave, then those that remain behind won’t have any protection. We have to stay together. If we split up, we’re going to lose someone.”

Dolanna nodded. “So our only options are to ride back or find some way to secure Tarrin and fly.”

“Just tie him to a pack horse,” Azakar announced. “Since he won’t get any worse if he gets banged around, it won’t matter. We have to do this fast, so we don’t have many options.”

Dolanna gave Azakar a glance, then nodded. “That is our only option,” she agreed. “Ulger, Haley—“

“Already on it, my friend,” Haley called as he jumped down from his Pegasus. “We’re just leaving the packs behind?”
“We have little choice,” she answered. “Just cut it loose and help Azakar lash Tarrin to the mount.”

“Another of those firebombs is coming,” Ulger warned as he looked up at the sky.

Dolanna looked carefully at it. No, it was not. It was a fiery mass, that was true enough, but it was moving too slowly to be another glob of ejected magma. Dolanna studied it as Haley cut the straps of the packs off the largest of the pack Pegasi, then she started making out a faint silhouette.

It was not a glob of fire. It was Tarrin’s sword! It was flying through the air of its own accord, straight towards them! And grasping the hilt, with an inert form gripped tightly with the other arm, was Mist!

Miranda laughed in delight when she looked up, and Dolanna gave out a fervent cry of relief. “Mist!” she screamed. “Mist, oh, I am so happy to see you!”

“It’s about bloody damn time you asses stopped!” Mist shouted back at them angrily. “My paw’s numb from gripping this thing, and I think my shoulder’s dislocated!”

Mist’s feet hit the ground, but she would not let go of the sword, so she ended up being dragged along with it as it pulled itself towards its master. “Someone take Kimmie! I can’t let go!” she called urgently, her eyes widening in surprise.

Haley surged towards her as Ugler and Azakar lunged forward, but Zyri reached her first. She was nearly knocked over by the much larger Were-cat, but she grabbed hold of Kimmie’s leg and refused to let go. She too was dragged along on the ground behind Mist as the Were-cat struggled to free her paw from the sword, but for some reason she could not let go of it. “Ngghh! It won’t let go of me!” she shouted, fear creeping into her voice. She threw Kimmie off her shoulder, who landed on top of Zyri, then grabbed her wrist with her other paw and tugged at it even as she tried to find purchase with her clawed feet.

“Just let go!” Azakar barked at her as he caught her by her waist, then he too was jerked along with her.

“You think I bloody damn well didn’t think of trying that already, you idiot?” she raged at him vehemently. “It’s stuck to my paw!”

“Do not fight it, Mist!” Dolanna called quickly. “Let it do as it wills!”

“I have a choice?” she snapped acidly as the sword drug the Were-cat towards Tarrin. Dolanna waved Azakar off, who let go of her and snatched up Kimmie from the ground, then backed away. The blade exploded into even brighter, brilliant flame as it got closer and closer to its master, who Haley quickly and insightfully ran back to Tarrin and pulled him off the Pegasus. He laid Tarrin on the ground quickly and all but dove out of the way as the sword, whose heat was so great now that Haley’s hair was starting to singe as he retreated, advanced quickly on its dying master.

The sword touched Tarrin, and there was nothing but a blazing column of fire, fire that rose all the way into the sky. Mist screamed, but not out of pain. Hers was a scream of surprise as the fire engulfed her, and her shadow vanished into the fierce inferno. Hidden within the blazing pyre, Mist felt the sword’s power flow into her mate, pouring into the shattered remnants of his wings, aggressively shoring up the delicate lattice of surprisingly gentle energy which was Tarrin’s godly power. Mist’s unwilling grip on the sword gave her an odd insight into what was going on. The sword had surrounded them with fire, Tarrin’s element, for he drew power from fire just as fire drew power from him. The sword had taken a grip on her and dragged her into it because she was his mate, and even now her presence registered to Tarrin in his unconscious state. The sword was using her love for him as a cudgel, beating him over the head with it. He could feel her through the sword, aware of her nearness, and that awareness produced the necessary reaction out of him, shaking awake his instincts and desire to live from the torpor they had undergone, the state of shock from which he still suffered after the brief yet savage confrontation with the One. Tarrin’s mind and his will reacted to the touch of the sword, reacted to the sudden realization that Mist was alive and well. She felt Tarrin’s divine nature open itself to the power of the sword, draw power from it, draw in the power of the fire around him, and send it into his dreadfully injured wings, which were also the direct representation of his power. The systemetic decay that had been taking place, the slow death of his divine nature, was quickly and effectively stopped as new power flowed into him, revitalizing him, replacing what was lost and giving him the extra power he needed to start the process of repairing the damage that had been done.

Quickly, almost shockingly quickly, the fire evaporated like smoke. Tarrin lay on the ground, still unconscious, his wings still tattered, and looking in no way different than before. Mist was on her paws and knees beside him, the sword still in her paw, looking dazed and bleary. She grunted weakly and rose up onto her knees, putting her paw to her forehead, and that sound made Tarrin move. He seemed to try to roll onto his side, but got about halfway there before collapsing back onto his stomach, and he moved no more.

“Goddess!” Dolanna said intensely as she rushed forward. She put her hands on Mist’s shoulder, then a palm to her forehead, then patted her on the shoulder before kneeling down and putting her hand to Tarrin’s cheek. “I think he will be alright,” she announced. “I must observe him for a while, though.”

“He’ll be fine,” Mist said wearily. “The sword bandaged him up. Sort of.”

“Did you feel what happened?” the diminutive Sorceress asked.

Mist nodded. “It was hard not to, since it wouldn’t let go of me,” she replied. “I felt it flood him with power, probably what the One injured. His wings will heal themselves, he just needs time, that’s all. It wanted me there to let him know that I’m alright.”

“It did? You are certain of that?”

She nodded. “It did what it was supposed to do. When Tarrin sensed me, he started actively trying to heal himself.”

Miranda gave Mist an oddly curious look, then her eyes widened. Then she turned halfway away from them, crossed her arms beneath her breasts, and looked back towards Mist with a narrow-eyed, very slight, clever little smile. But that faded the instant she looked at Kimmie. She rushed over to the Were-cat, who was laying partially on top of Zyri, and rolled her over. Then she pushed her sleeves up and immediately started chanting in the language of the gods, the medium through which Priest magic operated.

“Let’s put a tent up for him,” Ulger offered. “And for Kimmie. She gonna be alright Miranda?”

“I’ll tell you in about ten minutes,” she replied after a long pause.

“Let us simply make camp,” Dolanna said. “We are all tired and need to rest. We will rest for the remainder of the night and move on in the morning. Kimmie and Tarrin need time to heal, but we simply cannot stay in one place for long.”

“Mist! Come here and hold her down before she starts thrashing!” Miranda barked.

“I’ll help, Mistress Miranda,” Zyri offered.

“You’re not strong enough hon. Mist is, though,” she replied with a wink.

Mist was indeed strong enough. For nearly twenty minutes Miranda used her Priest magic on Kimmie, and she did start convulsing and thrashing not long after her bond-mother came over to pin her to the ground. Mirand blew out her breath after Kimmie stropped struggling, wiping her hand over her furry forehead to get her hair back into place, then gave Zyri a sly smile. “She’ll be just fine,” she announced. “Jal, time to earn your supper, hon. Come over here and give Kimmie a very thorough shower. We have to get this blood and dirt off her. Just don’t drench me,” she said with a teasing wink. “Wet Wikuni are very unhappy Wikuni.”

Jal, who had been hiding behind Haley nervously, advanced with a shy smile, his eagerness to use his power evident on his face.

“How is she, my friend?” Dolanna asked.

Miranda blew out her breath as she stood up, and Jal began inundating Kimmie with warm water as Mist scrubbed the grime from her. “She’ll be alright,” she answered. “The Demon tortured her, in both body and mind. The body I can fix, but the mind…well, we’ll see. I tried to literally erase out her memory of what happened as best I could, but Were-cats aren’t easy to work with. It was all I could do. I’m sorry.”

“That might be enough,” Dolanna said quietly.

“If I did it right, she’ll have absolutely no memory of anything that happened for the last five days, since before she was abducted. If I messed up—well, let’s not go there.”

“I have confidence in you, my friend,” Dolanna assured her. “As soon as we have tents prepared, let us move her and Tarrin into them.”

Miranda knelt beside Kimmie again and watched as Jal produced a steady, strong stream of water from his hands, water that was warm and clean. “Zak, go fetch us some towels, and a blanket.,” she ordered, and the Knight simply nodded and hurried to the pack Pegasi. “So, Mist,” she said, looking over Jal’s head at her. “I want to see you after we get Kimmie packed away into a bedroll. I want to check and make sure the sword didn’t do you any harm.”

“I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a request,” she said in a mild yet authoritative tone. “The kind of power you were exposed to can leave damage that you can’t see or feel or sense. I want to make sure you’re alright, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

Mist gave her an ugly glare, but Dolanna intervened. “Miranda is being wise, Mist,” she said. “It would behoove you to do as she asks. Best to ensure that you have no hidden injuries now rather than when those injuries might suddenly surface and impact your abilities at a bad time.”

Mist snorted. “Alright,” she agreed.

“Now let us not tarry. We must get Tarrin and Kimmie into bed and let them get as much rest as we can before we must move on.”

Pain was a sensation to which Tarrin Kael was more than accustomed. During his short life, he had experienced it in all its myriad forms, at more levels and forms that most other living beings could not even imagine. He had felt the intense, body-wracking pain of being turned. Twice. He had experienced physical pain that would drive humans mad, and had felt the icy pain of betrayal, had felt the mind-wrenching agony of loss. He had experienced pain in body, mind, and even soul. He had experienced more pain that any living thing should have to experience, and it was an unwelcome guest in his home, a visitor whom he despised, yet still knew intimately well.

This was a new pain.

He had never felt anything like it before. It was a physical sensation but it wasn’t, a kind of phantom pain in something that wasn’t there. And it was driving him batty.

The pain was aching in his wings. There was the expected pain along the torn remnants of what was left, but the pain that really was annoying him was pain in parts of his wings that simply were not there anymore. He’d heard stories of how men who’d lost hands or feet sometimes felt pain as if they still had them, but he didn’t really believe them. Well, he believed them now.

Oh, he knew before he was even conscious what kind of shape he was in. He remembered every instant of it, as the One’s power ripped through his wings, attacked his very divinity, tried to kill him by destroying the divine aspect of his being, which severely injured his mortal body simply as a collateral effect. The One hadn’t been trying to kill Tarrin, he had been trying to destroy him, had tried to destroy his very soul. But the One had underestimated Tarrin, for Tarrin had gambled on Mist being able to complete the task.

She had been partially successful. He could sense it, sense a drastic reduction in the sense of the One’s presence on the land, and the wary eye that always seemed to be looking over Tarrin’s shoulder was now gone. The One’s icon was damaged, but not destroyed, and even now the god was laboring to repair it. Even as Tarrin labored to repair his wings. Both of them had been injured, damaged, wounded in their battle, and Tarrin knew that now, now it was a race to see who could heal first. They both had suffered injury, and now both of them were partially crippled. The One had lost part of his touch on this world, and Tarrin had lost access to his divine powers.

That he could tell with just the most casual assensing of himself. His powers were tied up with his wings, they were his wings. With his wings injured, he would be incapable of using his divine abilities. The only thing he could do would be to try to heal them, which was what he was doing even now. It wasn’t something that require active thought, and it was the only kind of divine action that he could take. Until his wings were healed, he would have to do things the mortal way.

Given the amount of wing that was destroyed and the rate he was healing, they’d be restored in about a month. But, he could sense that the damage to the One’s icon was much more extensive, and it would take him longer to repair his icon than it would take Tarrin to heal his wings. He wasn’t sure how he knew that, but he did. That meant that for right now, they were equally incapacitated. But, since Tarrin would heal first, it meant that Tarrin would have a window of time to hunt down the One’s icon, and destroy it.

He turned his attention to his physical senses. The smell of canvas told him he was in a tent, a tent which had seen some visitors. Everyone had been inside the tent at one time, but Mist, Dolanna, Miranda, and Zyri and Jal had been the most frequent visitors. He was alone at the moment, but their voices were just outside the tent, as was the sound of a campfire. He was laying on his side, and he could feel the aching throb in his wings, a throb that became a sharp stab of pain when he moved. It made him wince, and he went about the business of getting up very, very gingerly.

He should have known that Mist would sense or notice him moving almost instantly. By the time he had rolled up to a sitting position, Mist was flinging the tent flap aside and rushing in. She didn’t slam into him, she knelt beside him quickly and put gentle paws on his shoulders, his face, his chest. “Tarrin!” she called urgently. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live,” he grunted as Miranda, Haley, and Dolanna appeared in the tent’s entrance, and Zyri wormed past them and quickly moved to his bedroll and sat down beside it. She didn’t touch him, but the concern was evident all over her face. “Is Kimmie alright? I can smell her on you.”

Mist nodded. “She’s sleeping in the next tent. She was in no condition to use magic to get us out when I got there, so I carried her back out and found your sword. I used it on the One’s icon,” she told him. “I think that’s what you wanted me to do.”

He nodded. “I knew I had no chance to get at his icon so long as he had his Avatar there, so I gambled that if you were still there, then you couldn’t get out. So I left it there hoping you could backstab the One while his attention was fixed on me.”

“A very brazen gamble, dear one,” Dolanna said with a smile.

“Sometimes crazy works,” Tarrin shrugged. “I knew that Mist can pick up my sword, and you don’t have to be a god to attack an icon. You just have to have a weapon capable of doing damage, that’s all.”

“Well, it almost killed me,” Mist grunted. “I got knocked across where the cathedral used to be. I’d have finished him, but I figured doing that would kill Kimmie, and the volcano was erupting, so I didn’t have time to stand there and debate the issue. I had to get Kimmie out of there.”

“You did enough,” Tarrin told her. “The One’s lost most of his power on this world while he fixes his icon. That means he can’t grant his Priests any spells stronger than the basics, he can’t directly communicate with them, and he can’t keep track of us anymore. We have some breathing room.”

“What about you, dear one? Are you well?”

He shook his head. “The One’s power comes from his icon. Mine comes from these,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve lost my powers too, until they’re healed. Me and the One are in the same fix, but I can heal my wings faster than he can fix his icon. I’ll get my powers back first. And when I do, I’m going to hunt his icon down and finish what Mist started,” he declared flatly.

“Dear one, if we have enough time, we will be gone long before then,” Dolanna told him gently. “All we must do now is find Phandebrass and have him open the gate.”

“No, Dolanna. Ni--the Goddess has to arrange to allow Phandebrass to open that gate. She doesn’t know when that’s going to happen, and until my wings regrow, I can’t tell her. We’re stuck here until I get my powers back.”

“Silly boy, I can ask Kikkalli to relay any message you might need,” Miranda told him. “It won’t be as fast, but I can do it. I’ll have to get her attention, and that might take some time. She can barely hear me as it is, and this won’t be just a request for the power to cast a spell. It might be a few days before I finally get in contact with her.”

“Why is it different?” Ulger asked from behind her.

“Think of hearing calls for power for spells to be something of an automatic reflex,” she answered, turning to look at him. “Half the time she doesn’t even realize it’s going on. That’s how the ki’zadun managed to infiltrate the order of Karas, friend. He didn’t know just who he was granting spells to. As long as the agents went through the motions and kept themselves in good standing with Karas, he kept granting them spells. Younger gods aren’t omnipotent, old friend. He did his best to keep up with what was going on, but the Priests who were agents of Karas had been very well trained before entering the Priesthood about how to hide their true loyalties. They were taught how to show a false front to Karas, and if you didn’t notice, it is possible to fool a god.”

“I always wondered about that,” he grunted.

“Karas wasn’t the only one with traitors in his order. Every Younger god, even Kikkalli, had a little house cleaning after what happened in Suld.”

“They didn’t try it with an Elder god?” Haley asked.

Miranda laughed. “Hon, you don’t toy with gods who can kill you with a thought,” she answered him. “Elder gods can do that, especially if you’re one of their Priests who has gone awry. Ayise doesn’t give a flip if you smack down one of the mortals who follows you. It’s entirely an internal matter. You cross an Elder, and he’ll drop you dead on the spot. The ki’zadun was very wise to keep them at arm’s length.”

“That would make the idea of it a bit nervous,” Haley laughed.

“I take it Phandebrass isn’t here yet?” Tarrin asked.

Dolanna shook her head. “We told him that we would find him. Unfortunately, that poses a problem now, since you cannot make contact with him.”

“He knows which way we were coming,” Tarrin grunted. “If I know him, he’s not very far away. All we have to do is let it be known where we are, and he’ll find us.”

“That is a dangerous idea, dear one. If we let it be known where we are, then the soldiers of the One will also come for us. We have been fighting running battles all night. It seems that the Demons have stepped in to lead the troops now that the One is incapacitated.”

“I was hoping that losing their god would take the fight out of them,” Tarrin fretted.

“It has not,” she answered.

Tarrin winced as he shifted his weight, then pulled himself onto his feet. There was a rather brilliant flash of pain though his wings as they shifted, but the pain eased back to a dull throb quickly. There wasn’t much at all left of them, just a pair of ragged bone-like appendages sticking out of his back which had torn tatters of living flame dangling from them limply. They were so damaged that he couldn’t even retract them. “Well, this is going to make riding fun,” Tarrin growled.

“I take it you cannot withdraw them?” Dolanna asked.

He shook his head. “They’re too injured to do anything,” he answered. “I won’t be able to retract them for a while. I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to shapeshift.”

“No, it is best not to experiment,” Dolanna warned. “Besides, if you cannot withdraw them, then there is no reason for you to change form to conceal yourself. They will simply give you away.”

“How is Kimmie?” he asked.

“Physically, she’s alright,” Miranda told him. “The Demon tortured her mind as well as her body, though. I erased her memory of the last few days to purge it from her mind, but I’m not entirely sure how well it worked. I figured if she had no memory of it, it wouldn’t affect her state of mind.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Tarrin agreed, thinking back to Jula. “Let me go see her, then if someone wouldn’t mind cooking something, I’d like to get something to eat.”

“I can do it, Mistress Mist,” Zyri offered in a small voice. “I don’t want to take you away from your daughter.”

“You’re a good cub,” Mist told her steadily, a paw on her shoulder.

“What do you want for breakfast, Master Tarrin?” she asked.

“Girl, I’ve told you not to call me that,” he grunted. “I’ll take just about anything. I’m not picky when I’m hungry.”

“I’ll find something,” she said with a bob of her head, then scurried out of the tent.

“I’ll give her a hand,” Haley said from outside. “Come on, Jal. Let Tarrin see Kimmie, then he’ll have time to say hello to you.”

Tarrin stepped out of the tent carefully, to prevent snagging his injured wings on the sides of the tent, and walked into an eerie scene. The air was thich with very fine ash, and smelled of sulfur and lava. The sky overhead was boiling with dark clouds of ash, from which the fine ash fell like snow, and the clouds were very low and very thick. They blocked the light of the single moon, making everything more than twenty spans from the fire black as pitch. Haley, Azakar, and Ulger had to shake the ash off things before they packed them, and the Pegasi shivered and flapped their wings often to get the ash out of their feathers and off their coats. Tarrin paid the strange scene no more mind, rather gingerly made his way across a small, hastily erected campsite to the next tent over, and his spirit soared just a little bit as her scent touched his nose. He threw aside the tent flap to see her laying in a bedroll, nude under the blankets he could tell, sleeping peacefully. There was no sign of her ordeal on her face, hers was the visage of a calm, untroubled slumber. That was a very good indication. She began to stir as Tarrin ducked into the tent, sucking his breath in when his wing snagged on the edge of the tent, and those beautiful blue eyes opened when he knelt by her bedroll. She looked up at him in sleepy bemusement, then she laughed softly. “Well, either this is a very vibrant dream, or something went horribly wrong somewhere,” she said to him with a slight smile.

“Let’s just say that something went horribly wrong,” he answered honestly, in a tender, gentle voice. “How do you feel?”

“Fine,” she answered, stretching languidly. Then she reached up and put her paw on his cheek. He put his paw over hers and closed his eyes, revelling in her nearness. “I’m glad to see you too, Tarrin,” she said winsomely, though there was nothing but honesty in her voice. “What happened?”

“Something that required Miranda to wipe it out of your memory,” he answered bluntly. “Something you do not want to remember. But it’s over. We managed to get you back, and that’s all that matters.”

“Phandebrass?” she asked fearfully.

“Fine,” he answered. “We need to find him, but we absolutely know for a fact that he’s just fine.”

“That’s a relief,” she sighed. “Last thing I remember was going to sleep in our camp. I take it things went wrong after that?”

He nodded.

“What happened to your wings, darling?”

Tarrin glanced back. “Let’s just say that it might give you an idea of how wrong things went,” he told her seriously.

“I, see,” she said in a quiet voice. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll heal,” he told her. “Everyone else is fine.”

Mist ducked under the doorway and entered the tent. Kimmie gawked at her, than laughed. “Mother!” she cried. “What happened to you?”

She glanced down at herself. “Oh, that’s right, this is new to you,” she mused. “I decided to be my proper size. Being half Tarrin’s height made it a bit awkward being his mate.”

Kimmie laughed. “That’s wonderful, mother!” she proclaimed. “I’m so happy for you!”

“I see you’re well,” she noted, sitting on her heels on Kimmie’s other side, her paw stroking her hair tenderly. It wasn’t often that Mist displayed her maternal feelings for Kimmie.

“I get the feeling that I wouldn’t have been,” she answered. “I don’t remember what happened, and I think our darling here convinced me that I don’t want to know.”

“You don’t,” she affirmed in a strong voice. “You were taken by that same Demon bitch that nearly killed Eron, and she used you to trap Tarrin into a fight with the One. That’s all you ever need to know.”

Kimmie gave her mother a stricken look, then swallowed nervously. “I think you might be right about that, mother,” she said in a quavering voice. “How long—how many days did I lose?”

“Three days?” Mist asked Tarrin.

“Maybe four. We’ll have to ask Miranda,” he answered. “Alright, Kimmie…exactly how did you end up here?”

Kimmie did not miss the intrinsic threat hidden behind those words, so she fixed Tarrin with a steady, honest gaze. “Phandebrass was showing me the gate. He managed to find out the location, even though you wouldn’t tell him. We went the way we did for speed, darling, the gate being on the path was just a bonus. When we got there, we were attacked by several—I have no idea what they were. They were very ugly and white, and big. They trapped us in the canyon, and more on the canyon rim triggered an avalanche. We could either flee through the gate or get buried. I’m sorry, darling, but we did what we had to do.”

“Yetis,” Tarrin grunted absently. “You must have stumbled across a pack of them. Usually they’re not aggressive, but if they set up their camp in the canyon, then they probably would have attacked.” He looked back to her. “They abandon a campsite if it’s compromised…that’s why they weren’t there when we arrived.”

“So you’re not going to blame us?”

“No. I’ll probably kill Phandebrass anyway, but I don’t blame you.”

Kimmie chuckled weakly. “My turn. Who’s looking after our children?”

“Jula,” he answered. “She’s with them at the Tower. Forge is with them.”

“I was really missing Forge,” she grunted. “He’s a Hellhound. Given this One’s tendancy to let his Priests summon Demons, having a pet Hellhound might have stopped a great deal of foolishness.” She blew out her breath. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Find Phandebrass,” Mist said first. “We need him to free the souls of the Sorcerers so Tarrin’s Goddess can get them off this world. Then we go home.”

“You have no idea how nice that sounds,” she sighed. “Do you have your spellbook, darling?”

Tarrin nodded.

“Good. I’ve lost mine, and if you remember, I copied all of my spells into yours,” she winked. “There’s a spell in there that will find Phandebrass.”

“Which spell?” Tarrin asked. “I went through the book from cover to cover looking for a spell that could lead us to you?”

She gave him a perplexed look, then she chuckled. “Well, I didn’t write a description with it,” she answered. “And it wouldn’t work for you, darling, because I never set the spell up for you. It’s a spell that allows an apprentice to know which direction her master is in, in case she ever gets lost. It’s a cantrip, one of the first an apprentice learns, and the master has to set the spell. Phandebrass did that for me, so I can use the spell to find him.”

“Do you feel well enough to move?” Mist asked.

“I feel just fine,” she answered immediately, then she reached under the blankets briefly. “Just as soon as someone finds me a robe or something, I’ll be ready to go,” she announced with a slight smile. She looked past Tarrin and Mist, then rolled over on her side. “And who is this handsome young man?” she asked, looking at him.

Tarrin looked back, and saw Jal and Zyri standing at the tent entrance, partially hiding behind the flap. Dolanna was standing behind them, and Miranda behind her. Jal was blushing. “That’s Jal, and Zyri,” Tarrin told her. “We picked them up a while ago.”

“Well, you’re looking good,” Miranda told Kimmie with a cheeky grin.

“I’m feeling fine. Have a dress I can borrow?”

“I’m almost done altering one for you,” she answered. “You were rather undressed when Mist got you back to the camp. I’ve been working on it a while. Give me a few minutes and I’ll bring it to you.”

“You’re a lifesaver, girlfriend,” Kimmie laughed.

“Do you feel well enough to travel, Kimmie?” Dolanna asked. “Tarrin?”

“Whether I am or not, we have to move,” Tarrin answered over his shoulder.

“I feel just fine, Dolanna,” Kimmie answered her. “Let me get dressed and I’ll be out to help.”

“If you come out now, I’d be more appreciative!” Ulger called from across the camp.

“If I did, you wouldn’t get any work done!” Kimmie called back immediately, which made Zyri giggle. “You brought Ulger with you? The Knights must have been hard up for decent people,” Kimmie told Tarrin with a wink. “Who else is here?”

“Azakar,” he answered. “And Haley and Sarraya. You’ve met everyone else.”

“Sarraya? How’s she surviving here?”

“The bug actually planned ahead,” Mist grunted. “Which is a miracle. She made a talisman that lets her survive here. She and Fireflash both are here. Both of them are out scouting around right now. They’re small and they can fly, so they’re better at avoiding being seen.” She snorted. “I had to pry Fireflash off Tarrin and throw him out of camp to get him going. He came back twice, then Haley explained to him that he was helping Tarrin more by watching out for enemies than he would be sitting in the tent.”

“That sounds like Fireflash,” she said, sitting up in the bedroll, then sitting cross-legged on the mat with the blanket in her lap, which left her chest bare. “Does that hurt, darling?” she asked, reaching up and very gingerly touching his wing.

Tarrin winced at the touch. “Yes, it hurts,” he said bluntly. “But there’s nothing to be done about it. They just have to heal.”

“What did that? I didn’t think anything could even hurt your wings.”

“The One,” he answered. “We’ll explain it all while we’re moving.”

“Well, give me the spellbook, and I’ll memorize that spell so I know where to take us,” she prompted.

Tarrin looked to the tent flap, where he saw Jal’s presented back. The boy had turned around after Kimmie sat up and exposed her breasts, but did not leave. “Jal,” he called. The boy didn’t turn around, but turned his head slightly. “Go to my tent and get my saddlepack.”

Jal nodded and hurried off.

“Come in, Zyri,” Tarrin called. “Come introduce yourself.”

The girl stepped out from behind the tent flap and filed in, keeping her eyes down and averted from Kimmie. She stopped just inside the tent flap and folded her hands before her demurely. “Nice to meet you, Mistress Kimmie,” she said in a small voice.

“She’s just a little lady, isn’t she?” Kimmie laughed. “Come in, sweetie. And drop the Mistress. Only my apprentice calls me that, and it drives me batty.”

“But, um, you’re not properly dressed.”

“Honey, girls are allowed to see each other naked,” Kimmie winked. “And Tarrin doesn’t count. He’s technically my boyfriend, and the father of my children. There’s nothing here he hasn’t already seen.”

“You had your turn, daughter,” Mist warned tersely. There was plenty of underlying threat in those words, showing that Mist’s maternal feelings for Kimmie only went so far.

“Don’t be silly, mother,” she said dismissively. “I wouldn’t dream of trying to interfere in your happiness. Don’t be a Jesmind, please.”

Mist gave her a strange look, then actually laughed. Mist did not laugh often.

Kimmie snapped her fingers—not easy when one’s hands were covered with fur and there were thick pads on the tips of one’s fingers—and pointed at the tent floor beside Tarrin imperiously. Zyri shuffled in and sat down beside Tarrin. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Zyri,” Kimmie said, holding her paw out to her. Zyri took it and shook it. “I can smell both my mother and Tarrin all over you, honey. Are they taking care of you?”

Zyri nodded, giving her a slightly surprised look. “They’re letting us live with them ‘til they find a good place for us.”

“Well, she speaks flawless Sulasian,” Kimmie noted clinically. “I see you found that tongues spell, Tarrin.”

Tarrin nodded. “I’m glad I did.”

“Did you get all three languages they use? Only the Priests speak anything other than Penali. One of them is a language they only use in the west, and the third seems to be a language they only use in the Priesthood when dealing with each other.”

“I got the other two,” he assured her. “I used one of their Priests when I did it.”

“We just got buzzed!” Ulger shouted from outside. “Throw on a blanket or something Kimmie!”

Mist immediately stood up, and there was the sound of commotion outside the tent. “Buzzed?” Tarrin asked Mist.

“One of the flying Demons just flew over the camp. Every time that happens a column of soldiers comes. They guide them to us,” she answered. “If it’s like the last couple of times, we have about twenty minutes to get ready.”

“The Demon won’t attack?” Kimmie asked.

“The first one did,” Mist grunted. “Miranda destroyed it with magic. The rest must have seen it happen, they won’t come anywhere near the Wikuni unless they have at least three and have soldiers behind them.”

“I take it we don’t have long?”

“No. Miranda!” Mist boomed. “Get that dress in here now!”

“I’m bringing it! Let me bite this thread off and it’s ready enough!”

Miranda scurried in at the same time as Jal, who blushed furiously and turned away from Kimmie. Miranda was carrying one of her homemade dresses, one of the blue ones, whose hem had been lengthened and the sleeves made longer, as well as some lengthening in the bodice to account for Kimmie’s taller height. “The stitching holding the bodice to the skirts isn’t totaly done, so be careful,” she warned.

“I’m sure it’ll be just fine,” Kimmie said with a nod, taking the dress. “Let’s hope it fits.”

“I know your size, silly,” Miranda said dismissively.

Tarrin stood up and took the saddlepack from Jal, who militantly kept his back to Kimmie as she climbed out of the bedroll and pulled the dress over her head. Mist helped her thread her tail through the hole in the back of the skirts, then the Were-cat tugged and pulled on the bodice and skirts until she had it where she wanted it. “It clashes with my fur, but I guess I can live with that. That’s why I always preferred brown. When a girl has orange fur, her color choices are a bit limited.”

“You can worry about fashion later, Kimmie,” Mist chided darkly. “We have to get the camp packed and move. I don’t want to engage them as long as Tarrin’s injured.”

“I’m fine, Mist,” Tarrin snorted. “If—“

Tarrin never finished that statement. Mist’s paw clamped onto the upper arch of his wings where they came out of his back, then squeezed. It sent a white-hot lance of pain through him, making him cry out in pain and his knees unlock, making him hunch over and drop to his knees.

“You were saying?” Mist asked bluntly. “I know you, my mate. If we engage, you’ll run right into the middle of it, and you’re in no condition to fight.”

“Alright, now you’re starting to sound like Jesmind,” Tarrin said in a panting tone after she let go of his wing, climbing back to his feet. His wing still throbbed with the beating of his heart, which seemed odd to him because blood didn’t go into them.

“I don’t care what you think of it,” she said defiantly. That was very unusual, for Mist usually deferred to him no matter what.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, darling,” Kimmie warned lightly in Torian. “You’ve riled her protective side. Now you have to live with it,” she finished with a wink.

Now it seemed to make a bit more sense. Mist was extremely protective of him…if this was just an aspect of that protectiveness, then it explained why she was going against her demure nature when regarding him.

“Don’t do that in front of me, daughter,” Mist warned darkly. Mist didn’t speak Torian.

“I’m just telling Tarrin to give up, mother,” she said with a sly smile. “He won’t win this one.”

“Oh. Carry on, then,” she announced, then turned and left the tent without another word.

“Would you like to help me get everything ready, cubs?” Kimmie asked the children. “I have to memorize this spell so I can guide us, so I need a hand packing up the tent. Would you like to lend me a hand?”

“I’ll help, after I get Master Tarrin something to eat,” Zyri replied, and Jal, who had finally turned to look at her, nodded vigorously. There really wasn’t much to do, just pack the bedroll; nothing else was in the tent.

“That’s sweet of you,” she said, taking the spellbook that Tarrin fished out of the saddlepack and handed to her. She spoke the word that expanded it to full size, then looked around. “Oh, I think I’d better do this outside,” she mused. “They can’t knock down the tent if I’m in it.”

Tarrin carefully navigated the tent flap behind Zyri, keeping his wings away from the edges, and saw everyone working hard and fast. Kimmie’s tent was the only one still up, and Azakar and Haley quickly and efficiently packed the gear onto the pack Pegasi. One of them had been stripped of its packs, for use by Kimmie, with only the leather pack saddle remaining on it. That would only do if they stayed on the ground; Kimmie would need a proper saddle if they took to the air. Kimmie stopped and gawked at the winged horses for a long moment, then laughed delightedly. “Tarrin! Where did you get them, and what are they?”

“They’re our horses. Well, our Pegasi now,” Tarrin answered. “I Transmuted them when it became necessary to move very far very fast.”

“You used Sorcery?”

Tarrin nodded. “My sword can touch the Weave. I have no idea how. Me and Dolanna used that touch to build up a charge of Sorcery. I’ve burned all mine, but I think Dolanna still has some held back for emergencies.”

“I’ll have to look into that when we have the time,” she mused. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” She quickly padded over to the firepit, which had only the ashen remains of a fire within it, and sat down and opened the book. She immediately lost all notice of the outside world as she turned to the proper page and began to study.

Fireflash lanced in from the edge of camp and slammed into Tarrin’s chest, making his wings shudder with pain, but he folded his paws over his drake and stroked his scales tenderly as the drake cooed and chirped in exuberant relief. “I’m alright, little one,” Tarrin chuckled as Fireflash nuzzled his neck aggressively. “Just mind my wings, they’re still hurt.”

Fireflash chirped in understanding and took his place on Tarrin’s shoulder, carefully keeping his tail near Tarrin’s shoulder to avoid accidental contact. Tarrin immediately paid his drake’s position so close to his injured wings little mind; it felt odd when his drake was not on his shoulder. That he was there only seemed proper.

“Nice to see you up and about, Tarrin,” Haley said tersely as he cinched a bagged tent onto a saddle pack. Zyri rushed over from one of the other saddle Pegasi and offered Tarrin a large chunk of dark bread and some cheese. Tarrin took them and then patted Zyri on the shoulder fondly, and the girl rushed back to help Jal pack Kimmie’s bedroll. “Hand me that pack there?” Tarrin reached down and grabbed the pack, then lobbed it to the Were-wolf. “Thanks,” he grunted as he piled it on top of the first.

“I’ve heard the doom and gloom. Mind telling me what’s really going on?”

“Pretty much the doom and gloom,” he answered honestly. “We’ve been fighting skirmishes with advance elements of the One’s army all night. Now that that Demons know where we are, he’s finding a column of troops to bring back to us. He won’t try it by himself because Miranda can blow him out of the water if he gets within shouting distance of her, and somehow they know that.”

“Demons are defeneseless against Priests,” Tarrin told him, handing him another pack. “If the Priest is strong enough to banish, it’s gone, and there’s nothing it can do about it outside of trying to get to the Priest before he can finish the spell.”

“That’s good to know,” he said with a nod. “The main thing now is to get out of sight, but that’s not going to be easy. Even if you could shapeshift, these winged horses are rather, unique,” he chuckled. “Our best bet is to find a forest and hide in it for a little while. That neutralizes their aerial reconnaisance, and it puts us in the advantage.”

“No, we have to find Phandebrass, and running to a forest isn’t going to get us there,” Tarrin grunted. “We’ll just have to plow through the soldiers.” He was about to say something else, but an idea occurred to him. “Or maybe not. Dolanna!” he called.

“What is it, dear one?”

“How much power do you have left?” he asked her from across the camp.

“Not much,” she answered. “I have used most of it in the battles last night.”

“Think you have enough for a sustained Illusion?”

“Yes, but I cannot hold it for long.”

“Think you can hold it for an hour?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be a complex Illusion, just a basic one.”

“A basic one? Perhaps,” she told him. “I take it it must be large enough to hide us all?”

“Yah,” Tarrin replied. “But it’s just going to be an Illusion of a single color, so you shouldn’t have too much trouble making it large.”

Dolanna started to speak, then laughed. “That’s clever, dear one,” she answered. “Yes, I think I can do that, but it might not be necessary. The ash is thick, and we would be hard to see.”

Tarrin looked up at the sky, which was thick with dark clouds spewing from the volcano. The smell of ash and brimstone was heavy in the air. It was perfect. That low cloud of ash restricted visibility, and the fine ash drifting down from the sky was seriously cutting visibility—no, wait. The ash was very fine, and though it was little more than a nuisance right now, if they were flying, the fine ash would be like sand blowing in the desert. Without eye protection, the Pegasi would very quickly be blinded by the soot and ash. Tarrin reached into the saddlepack in his paw and dug out his violet crystal visor, turning it over in his paw, pondering how to get around this problem.

A Ward. A Ward would do it, but Dolanna might not have the energy to—hold on, he had their energy source. If it still worked, anyway. The sword’s power was linked to his own. His wounding might have altered the power the sword could bring to bear.

“Where did you put my sword?” he asked Haley.

“It’s laying on the ground where your tent was,” he answered. “We can’t touch it, so we just rolled it out of the tent opening, then packed the tent.” Tarrin looked in that direction, and saw his sword laying on the ash-covered ground, almost buried in the two fingers of ash that covered everything.

Well, this could be the first test. He put on the visor and then reached out to the sword, commanding it with a single thought to return to his paw.

The sword seemed to shudder on the ground, then rose up from the earth and sailed through the air. The hilt turned towards him in midair, and slid comfortably into his grip. The sword’s blade had a few licks of flame slide along its length when Tarrin touched it, then fell dark. Tarrin pushed his awareness towards his weapon, and found that it responded to him. It knew what he wanted to know, and communicated to him in a way that he could not quite describe that it could in fact still do as he wished. The blade of the sword started to glow with a faint, wispy white light, a wispy nimbus that looked just like Magelight. It wasn’t the white fire from before, it was much more subdued, and Tarrin sensed that the sword’s ability to reach back into the Weave had been reduced. It would take them longer to draw power from it, but the simple fact remained that they could still use it.

Well, at least Dolanna could. Tarrin tried to open himself to the power of the Weave, but the instant he tried, his wings exploded into a savage rake of pain that lashed through them, then through the rest of his body. It was so intense and so sudden that it made his mind swim in a dark haze, threatening to make him pass out.

Dazed, Tarrin fought through the cobwebs and tried to comprehend why that had happened. His wings had nothing to do with his Sorcery. Why did they react that way? They had tried to absorb the magic first, he realized, as they had before.

That was easy enough to circumvent. After all, his wings had nothing to do with Sorcery. He tried again, being very careful to tell his wings to stay out of it, and again felt a wracking pain through them. He had been halfway ready for it this time, so he disconnected himself from the power immediately. He blew out his breath and tried one more time, and was again assaulted with pain.

Annoyed, Tarrin tried to understand why it was happening, then he caught a glimpse of his wings as he looked to the side. Of course. The wings were divine, but they were a part of him, they were physical limbs, and they were injured. Sorcery put stresses on the body, even on a da’shar or sui’kun, and the stresses of the magic of Sorcery were causing his wings pain. He couldn’t block his wings from touching the power because they were a part of him, a part of his body, and his entire body was a conduit for the magic. With his wings injured, he wasn’t going to be able to draw power because they couldn’t tolerate the stress of holding the power right now. But he could weave directly from the sword. It would take much longer, but it was more than possible. He’d been using the power as a Sorcerer. Now it was time to weave like a da’shar, weave without drawing in.

That was the only way.

“I’m alright, little one,” Tarrin said absently to Fireflash, who was urgently nuzzling his neck. He reached up and patted the drake’s head, then turned and looked at Dolanna, who was approaching him. “Think you can make a Ward to block this ash, Dolanna?” he asked.

“Easily, dear one,” she assured him. “Are you fit to ride?”

“Fit or not, I don’t have much choice,” he grunted. “We have to move.”

“I have the spell,” Kimmie called. “I’ve already cast it. Phandebrass is due south, and now he’ll know I’m looking for him.”

“How is that?” Azakar asked her.

“The spell has two parts,” she answered him. “The first tells me which direction he is. The second tells him that I just used it, so now he knows I’m alright, and that I’m looking for him. He’ll stop if he can and wait for me to catch up to him.”

“Good, I’d hate to chase him around,” Azakar said as he finished cinching the strap on a pack Pegasi’s last pack.

Azakar and Ulger roughly knocked down the last tent, and didn’t bother to fold it and pack it away properly. They tied it up with its own guide ropes, then jammed it onto the back of the least loaded pack Pegasus and tied it down.

“Is the camp packed?” Dolanna called, looking around at the hastily abandoned campsite.

“Just finishing up, Dolanna,” Ulger replied. “Go ahead and mount up. We’ll be on the way in a minute.”

It took the help of Mist and Haley to get into the saddle, because the act was excruciating. Tarrin panted from the effort once he was in the saddle, slumped over the saddlebow as he tried to get over the pounding throbbing of his wings. Odd that limbs that had no blood in them would resonate with pain with the beating of his heart. Fireflash jumped down into the saddle and laid down between him and the saddlebow, his usual spot, and Tarrin patted him on the back before, then he pulled his bow from the saddleskirt where he usually kept it stowed. Give me a quiver,” Tarrin called to Azakar as he sheathed his sword in the spot where he had taken the bow.

Azakar nodded and went over to a pack Pegasus.

“What are you doing, my mate?” Mist asked dangerously.

“I can’t fight, but I don’t have to just sit back and be useless,” he answered. “If I can ride this thing, I can shoot a bow.”

Mist turned it over in her mind, then nodded. “Good enough,” she told him, then went over and mounted her own Pegasus.

Azakar handed him two quivers brimming with Tarrin’s hand-made arrows, which were hung from each side of his saddle. Pulling those arrows was a bit tricky in his natural form, but the power he could put into his bow with his current strength would give him a range that was almost ridiculous. Tarrin sent the bow into the elsewhere where he could call it in a second, then grabbed the reins.

“Umm, I’ve never ridden one of these things,” Kimmie called nervously as she mounted one of the newly freed up pack Pegasi. Ulger took a cord of rope and tied one end of it to Kimmie’s foot.

“Just hold on without breaking the Pegasus’ ribs,” Tarrin told her. “We’re going to be careful until we get you a proper saddle. Ulger’s strapping you to the Pegasus, so you can’t fall off.”

“I wondered why he was tying ropes on my foot,” she laughed.

Ulger quickly and efficiently strapped Kimmie to her mount. He tied a rope between her feet that looped under the Pegasus, then used the leather thongs on the pack saddle and some extra rope to very securely lash her to the Pegasus’ back.

“Everyone tie in,” Dolanna called as she gracefully mounted her own Pegasus.

Tarrin forgot to do that. He tied the leather thongs that they’d added to the saddles and tested them to make sure the knots were good, then took the reins again. “Azakar, you will lead with Kimmie just behind you,” Dolanna told him. “Follow her directions.”

“Aye, Dolanna,” Azakar nodded as he finished tying himself in, then clapped down his visor.

“Do not worry, dear one, I will use a Ward to block the ash, or we will all be blinded,” she told him.

“Oh. Good,” the Mahuut nodded, putting his visor back up. “Sarraya back yet?”

“Not yet,” Dolanna answered. “Haley?”

The Were-wolf nodded, then raised two fingers to his lips and unleashed an ear-piercing whistle that almost seemed to resonate with Tarrin’s teeth. He had never heard a whistle that loud before.

“Ouch,” Kimmie growled, patting her ears.

“Sorry, should have warned you,” Haley chuckled.

“That’s a neat trick, Haley,” Tarrin said admiringly.

“I’ll teach you how to do it later,” Haley answered with a smile. “It’s not hard.”

They waited for several moments, then Sarraya’s voice reached them. “Coming!” she shouted, then she appeared out of the drifting ash. “I’m here, I’m here! Well, good to see you up, Tarrin. You okay, Kimmie?” she said, flitting around each of them in turn as she addressed them.

“I’m fine. I’m just surprised to see you,” Kimmie winked.

“I’m full of surprises,” Sarraya grinned in reply. “You feeling alright, Tarrin?”

“I’ll live,” he answered her shortly as she landed on his shoulder.

“Alright, let me raise the Ward, and we will be ready to go.”

Kimmie had no trouble with riding a Pegasus, but Tarrin did. The Pegasus knew he was injured, and to its credit, it tried very hard to be as gentle and smooth as possible, but there was only so much it could do. Every downstroke of its wings caused a subtle jar, and that jar was a shockwave that raced through Tarrin’s wings. The cloud of ash was breeding its own weather, so the Pegasus had to deal with sudden crosswinds, updrafts, and downdrafts that caused it to shift sharply in the air. But Tarrin had endured greater pain before, back when he’d been shot, so he simply gritted his teeth and used all the tricks that Allia had taught him about how to control pain to try to blot it out. He kept his eyes on Dolanna’s Pegasus and concentrated only on following her. There was nothing else but keeping himself behind that winged horse. There was no pain, there was no time, there was only Dolanna, her white Pegasus, and the need to keep himself squarely behind them.

He was so lost in himself that when the white Pegasus before him put its hooves on the ground, Tarrin was surprised so much he lost his center when his own mount landed. The pain was a white jag through his wings, so much so it put white spots in his eyes, and he almost bit off the tip of his tongue when his teeth clamped shut in reflex. He looked around and saw that they were still under the ash cloud, though it was much thinner than it had been to the north, so much so that the sun peeked through as a dim white disc. They were on a road, a deserted road, except for ten men and women wearing heavy cloaks and riding horses. They all turned to look towards them as the Pegasi shivered and beat the wings to clear the ash out of them before folding them, and none of them moved for a moment.

Then he heard Phandebrass’ wonderful voice erupt from the middle of them. “Pegasi! I say, I thought they were extinct! How did you find them? Do they live here?”

“Phandebrass!” Kimmie cried out, urging her mount forward. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, my dear, just fine,” he answered, removing his hood. He had an ugly slash on his face, just outside his right eye, that went from his hairline to his chin. “As you can see, we’ve had a bit of excitement here and there, but nothing we couldn’t handle. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she answered as the others squared off agaisnt the Arcane mage and his nine hooded companions, who still had neither moved nor spoken.

“I say, what happened to you, Tarrin?” Phandebrass asked.

“The One happened,” Tarrin said evenly. “We had a bit of a fight. Neither of us got out of it easy.”

Phandebrass laughed as all nine of his companions gasped in unison. “Did you get him?”

“Mist did,” he said, looking at his mate.