Brian Rathbone - Regent

Ahead, the terrace walls had been damaged, and great care was required to climb past the broken section. The earthen works looked as if they might slide into the valley under the group's weight, but they held. Beyond lay a section of ripe corn, essentially cut off by the damage on one end and a sheer face on the other. Chase felt trapped with the treacherous section as their only means of escape. He cursed himself for a coward, and when the clouds parted, he felt a bit better. At least with the light of the near-full moon and the comets, the trek back would be less of an issue. The herald globes provided consistent light, but they cast shadows, making climbing dangerous.

As a strong wind drifted down from the north, Chase looked to the skies. Dozens of comets cast their twinkling light across the sky, blotting out the stars so only the moon and comets could be seen. It was a strange sight to behold. For most of his life, in fact for thousands of years, there had been no comets in the skies. The prophecies had said they would come, and so they had. They also said Catrin would destroy the Zjhon and, in a way, she had, but what the prophecies said would come next made Chase quail. He had hoped it all to be fantasy, but the situation just kept getting worse with no signs things would improve any time soon. Perhaps he needed to accept the fact that it would get far worse before it got better-far worse indeed.

The farmers had gotten ahead of him again, and Chase was about to close the distance when he noticed something strange in the corner of his vision: light, then darkness, then light. As he looked back to the sky, he saw a pattern as something large blotted out the comets, and whatever it was grew larger with every passing moment.

"Get down," Chase said in a half whisper, half shout. A brief moment of pride filled him as the entire crew ducked down without another word. Many met his eyes, and he motioned to the sky, making his hands into the shape of flapping wings, now known as the sign for dragons above. When he turned his attention back to the sky, it was nearly too late. A blast of air pelted them as the massive wingtips came close to taking Chase's head off. He fell to his stomach and waited for the debris-filled wind to pass. When he stood, he braced himself and readied his spear. His men did the same without the need for command, and they waited for the attack to come. Instead what they heard was the snapping of trees and timbers followed by a mighty exhale.

"The beast has gone down on his own, sir. Should we move in and finish it off?"

"Bradley and Simms, with me. The rest of you, wait here."

The sound of labored breathing echoed on the wind, and Chase knew the beast still had the potential to be very dangerous. A wounded dragon could be worlds more deadly than a hungry dragon. More cracks and snaps echoed through the valley as the beast thrashed, accompanied by mighty roars that ended as grunts.

"We might be best off letting this one die on its own, sir. I'm no coward but I can't see risking lives if the beast truly is mortally wounded, sir," Bradley said.

"I agree," Chase said, "but I want to get a closer look at what we're facing."

Shouts from above rang out, and Chase looked up to see Morif leading a group of men down the stairs. There was no mistaking the towering presence that was Morif, and it brought a smile to Chase's face. There might be a bit of gray in the old soldier's beard, but he'd certainly lost none of his warrior spirit. As he rounded a bend and got his first glimpse of the downed dragon, he got an impression of size but little else, as most of the creature was engulfed in shadow. It was the size of a large male, and Chase's knew that even a swipe of its tail could be an end to anyone caught in its path. The valley was still, and the wounded dragon had gone quiet.

"Stay where you are!" Chase shouted across the valley to Morif and his men. "I'm going in for a look. You stay here," he told Bradley and Simms. The men seemed uneasy about his order but didn't argue with him. Descending into the darkness, Chase tried not to think about what it would feel like to be crushed to death. When he reached an area where the terraces ran near a rooftop, he leaped across and shimmied down the side of the building, which had been constructed of whole tree trunks and offered a variety of hand- and footholds. When he peeked around the corner, he found himself face-to-face with a very alive dragon. His heart nearly stopped.

It took his brain a moment to register that this was no feral dragon. The head was wider, and the eyes were more on the sides of the head. Color was hard to guess, but this dragon was clearly not the shiny black of a feral. Those huge eyes, flecked with green and gold, held Chase in thrall, and he knew. It was not like what Catrin had described when Kyrien showed pictures in her mind. Chase simply knew: this was no ordinary dragon; this was Kyrien, Catrin's dragon.

Catrin sat up so suddenly that Millie fell out of the chair she'd been leaning back in.

"By god and goddess!" Millie shouted while gathering her skirts. "Lady Catrin!"

That brought new shouts from down the hall, and Mirta soon charged through the door. Millie poured a mug of water and handed it to Catrin, who had yet to speak or acknowledge anyone else. Her hands trembled but managed to grasp the mug, and after a few moments, Catrin drank. When she looked around, she had eyes for only one: Prios. His still body was the color of ash.

"Back to the viewing chamber," Catrin said in a raw voice that left her coughing.

"You're in no condition to be up and walking," Mirta insisted, but Catrin would not be deterred.

"I'll carry him there myself if I have to," Catrin said as she stood on unsteady feet.

Millie wrapped an arm around her. "Do as she says! Guards! Help Mirta carry Prios back to the viewing chamber."

Men rushed into the chamber and carried both Prios and Catrin down the hall. Another man helped Millie, who was breathing heavily enough that she was having trouble complaining that she didn't need help.

"Get Brother Vaughn," Catrin gasped. "Tell him we need the chanting. He will understand."

"He tried for a time, m'lady, but when it had no effect after days, he finally gave it up," Millie said. "I'm sorry, m'lady."

Weariness washed over Catrin, and she hadn't the energy to respond. Instead, she just concentrated on breathing. Her body felt weak and disconnected, which was not unexpected. She'd been through this before, but this felt worse, as if troughs had been carved deep in her mind, and she doubted she would ever be whole again. For the moment only Prios mattered. Every second increased the chances he would simply fade away.

"Hold him in front of the left portal. I'll stand in front of the right," Catrin said. In truth, she leaned on the two young men flanking her only slightly less than Prios's unconscious form did. This was not entirely a bad thing as she uttered, "Hold on to me tight."

"Don't you dare leave me again!" Millie shouted, but it was too late, Catrin was already gone. Soon the air was filled with rhythmic chanting as Millie wept.

Demons held the darkness, which surrounded Catrin's spirit and tried to smother her, but she conjured a herald globe that shone brightly, like those that lived only short lives. It was something she had learned while her spirit had been trapped at the farm. The things she was adept at creating in the physical world she could conjure on the astral plane. She used the globe to pierce the darkness and find Prios. She found him cowering in the corner of the barn; somehow he'd made it back. Memories of their battle would forever haunt her. Kyrien had spoken to her, and he had seemed so close, but the darkness was too strong. Weakened by prolonged separation from their bodies, the two had been in no shape for a fight.