Art didn't sleep for very long. After just a couple of hours of sound slumber, his natural sense of caution caused him to wake. He stretched his arms tiredly and dropped his palms gently to the ground, feeling the soft dew-covered grass beneath them as he pushed himself upright. His legs felt stiff as a result of all the travel by dragonback he had undertaken recently, but it didn't trouble him.

Around him, the night was still very much in control of the landscape. The hills and the mountains, with their forested slopes, had surrendered themselves to the darkness and now were visible only as ominous silhouettes on the horizon. Art did find it a little comforting, though, to be able to hear the sound of the crystal river flowing nearby, the gentle rushing tones cutting through the night like an invisible crystal scythe. Joining the rushing noise was the sound of crackling embers emanating from the fire that Varn had kindly set up, but which had long since safely burned out and now merely glowed in defiance of the darkness around it.

Art sighed loudly to himself and idly looked upwards. Suddenly, he found himself taken aback by the display of starlight above him. The night sky rolled out over him like a giant canvas, painted in a deep, inky black, and speckled with points of twinkling silver light, playing across the darkness like light shining through the raindrops in a thunderstorm.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Art's concentration on the sky was shattered by the voice, and he dropped his gaze to the ground, across to there Caraneth was watching him intently. The dark body of Varn was curled up slightly next to her, sleeping soundly it seemed. Art imagined that the two of them had agreed to split the watch during the night between the two of them, allowing both to get some sleep. After all, it was what Art would have done if he were in the reversed situation.

The swordsman paused before answering, trying to read whether there was some deeper intent in Caraneth's question than the simple banter it appeared to be. But he had come very quickly to trust the blue dragoness, and he silently told himself to stop being so insecure and nervous about his situation.

"It is, kind Caraneth," Art finally replied, allowing a wry smile to drift across his face. "The sky seems clearer here somehow than it does in my hometown."

"I'm no expert," Caraneth mused, casting her draconic gaze upwards, "but I would imagine the air is colder here, further north, which might make everything seem a little sharper."

Art grinned and joined Caraneth in looking upwards again. "I wouldn't know, Caraneth, I'm no alchemist or magician, but you certainly sound like more of an expert to me."

The blue dragoness smiled and looked back at Art. "I wouldn't say so." She paused and raised a large wing gently to show it to Art. "It's just that dragons tend to know about air, you see?"

Pressing his palms against the ground and leaning forward to push himself upright, Art nodded and allowed himself a brief chuckle. "Very true," he agreed. Art began to turn away, but looked back over his shoulder quickly to address Caraneth once more. "Is it alright if I walk a little?"

"If you wish," Caraneth nodded slowly. "Just don't wander out of sight."

"I won't," Art promised as he looked back away and began to slowly walk away, his attention split between still admiring the sky and watching the shadowed mountains back to the east, the same mountains that they had flown over hours ago, chased by two dragons, of which one was now sleeping just a short distance behind him.

Art's meandering path took him back past the sleeping forms of Wyldfyre and Alara, both still unconscious from their injuries and the subsequent effects of Caraneth's healing. He looked down at Wyldfyre and raised an arm to brush his hand back through his hair thoughtfully.

"A-Art? Is that you?" Wyldfyre's voice croaked from his prone body, filled with the effort it had taken to form those few short words.

"Wyldfyre?!" Art exclaimed in a whisper, crouching down quickly and placing his hand on Wyldfyre's nearest shoulder. In the dim starlight, combined with the glow from the embers of the nearby burned out fire, Art could see that Wyldfyre's eyes were now slightly opening, and straining to make out the world around him.

As the elf tried in vain to raise an arm to push himself upright, Art gently increased the pressure his hand exerted on his friend's shoulder. "Don't try to get up just yet, Wyldfyre," he warned. "I'm told that what you have been through has drained you quite severely. You need to rest."

Wyldfyre relented and let himself rest against the ground again, not sure if he could have forced himself upwards even if he had been allowed to try. He strained his throat again and formed a few more cracked words. "Is Alara all right?"

The swordsman nodded and smiled gently. "Yes, Wyldfyre. She is still sleeping, but she will be fine."

Caraneth, Art noticed, had watched the conversation between himself and Wyldfyre, and had quietly risen to her paws and drawn near, but was very careful not to enter Wyldfyre's field of vision. Art began to wonder if she was simply listening in to them, making sure they were not plotting on how they would allow Grimweir's armies to come over the mountains and invade their land.

His thoughts were proven wrong, however, as the blue dragoness raised a paw, which began to glow with a soft white light, and swept it between her and Wyldfyre, as if directing some sort of energy towards the elf. She held her paw aloft a moment more, her features carved with what Art interpreted as the dragon version of concentration, and then merely nodded to the human before settling down to the floor again and resuming her watch.

Art returned his full attention to Wyldfyre, who had remained tiredly unaware of Caraneth or her actions. "You'll be just fine," he reaffirmed.

Wyldfyre attempted to push himself upright again, with more strength this time, and succeeded in defeating the gentle pressure that Art had placed against him. "I think I will," the elf agreed. "In fact, I'm feeling stronger already."

A quick glance back to Caraneth, who simply smiled and nodded, added weight to Art's suspicion that there had been more to the magic she had obviously just performed on Wyldfyre, as if she had been able to rejuvenate him further now that he had awoken.

"How long was I unconscious?" Wyldfyre asked, still unaware of the dragons that were laid behind him.

Art quickly judged the time in his head since their earlier ungraceful landing. "About half a day," he replied, although to him it felt much longer. Art was about to add that they were safe, at least for the moment, when Wyldfyre spoke again.

"Did we make it to safety?" Wyldfyre rubbed his face with both hands, trying to ward off the feeling of grogginess that still clung on to his senses.

"We escaped from Grimweir," Art replied, nodding. "Do you remember what happened as we flew over the mountains?"

Wyldfyre closed his eyes for a moment and tried to draw his mind back to those memories, but it was if the whole sequence of events was shrouded in a mental mist. He opened his eyes and shook his head slowly. "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

Art waved a hand dismissively and took a deep breath of the cold air, the resulting breath out condensing and forming a trail of smoky water vapour that curled away from him. "There's nothing to apologise for, Wyldfyre. You saved our lives, both Alara’s and mine. Larieth would be proud."

"Larieth," the name died on Wyldfyre's lips as he whispered it. For one moment, Art was gripped by the worrying thought that perhaps Wyldfyre had even forgotten about Larieth's death as well. But Wyldfyre seemed to catch himself and smiled slightly up at Art. "I hope he would be." Art allowed himself a sigh of relief now that Wyldfyre seemed to remember, and seemed to be coping a little better with the grief.

"We were met by three dragons," Art explained. "But there is some concern that we flew here out of Athyria, what they call the 'Forbidden Land' now. As you can imagine, given that they thought all the elves were taken under the power of the Shadow and Grimweir, they were a little shaken to find you arriving from that direction, especially using the shapeshifting abilities you have." Art paused and tried to smile reassuringly to Wyldfyre while the elf absorbed the information. "If you think about it," Art continued, "an elf from the lands controlled by Grimweir flew here in disguise without any kind of warning or notice. It is fairly obvious that they would assume the worst. I explained what I could to them."

Wyldfyre nodded slowly, letting the pieces of the story fall into place as they helped him to restore his lost memories. The subconscious veils began to recede, and the memories faded into Wyldfyre's consciousness. "Yes, I think I can remember. But," he added quickly, "where are they now?"

The swordsman chose not to answer, but instead just looked over Wyldfyre's shoulder, towards where Caraneth was watching. Wyldfyre saw the movement in Art's gaze, and turned his head to look over his shoulder, following suit with the rest of his body as he saw the two dragons laid behind him. Caraneth smiled widely, although Art noticed that the wide, toothy grin displayed enough teeth to be misinterpreted as a threat in some more distant cultures.

"Greetings, Wyldfyre," Caraneth dipped her head slightly, her blue scales almost shimmering in the gently starlight. "My name is Caraneth, and my sleeping friend here is Varn. I was the one who healed you and your friend."

Wyldfyre bowed in return and tried not to think how much the presence of a blue dragon before him reminded him of Larieth. "Then it seems I am in your debt, kind Caraneth." A moment passed while the elf studied Varn quietly, and then looked back towards the blue dragoness. "I remember there was a black dragon chasing us," he explained slowly, "but what about the gold dragon I remember?"

Caraneth nodded and let her smile slowly melt into a more business-like expression. "Shadow Guardian Noradin has returned to our home to inform our elders of your arrival and discuss what action we will take over your arrival."

"That's what they call the dragons who guard the border between what used to be Athyria and their own land," Art whispered an explanation to Wyldfyre's unspoken question.

The elf looked around a little, appreciating their new surroundings as Art had done just a short while previously. "Are we going to be accused of some sort of crime?" Wyldfyre said as he looked at the stars.

"Possibly," Caraneth answered, as truthfully and openly as she could. "I cannot say for sure, as it seems clear that you are newcomers here, despite your association with Ambassador Larieth, and the royal heritage that your companion has explained to us. The penalties for crossing in the Forbidden Land are high, but in this case, provided we can prove there are no sinister motives for your arrival, perhaps the elders will be more lenient with you." She smiled again, "we are not an unkind people, Wyldfyre."

Wyldfyre turned back to Art, his eyes full of questions. "Wyldfyre," Art quickly spoke, "forgive me for telling them about Larieth and your royal origins. I didn't want to mislead them, especially if how truthful we are now might have a bearing on how they treat us or punish us. I thought it was best to be honest."

After considering the swordsman's words, and Caraneth's, Wyldfyre nodded reassuringly. "I agree, Art. You did the right thing. This doesn't need to be kept a secret any more. If we are to have the dragons help us, we can't start by lying to them."

"Thank you," Art smiled appreciatively. "I had hoped you would agree with me."

"I hope you will excuse me," Caraneth interrupted suddenly as the conversation between Art and Wyldfyre fell to silence, "for not referring to you as 'Your Highness', Wyldfyre, but I would prefer to await the guidance of our elders on that matter, and from what I understand, you would not be used to being addressed in that manner, and might even find it a little uncomfortable?"

"Of course, Caraneth," Wyldfyre answered understandingly. "I suppose you must now already know that I have only recently found out about my true heritage myself. Just calling me Wyldfyre is fine, as far as I am concerned."

Caraneth indicated her thanks with another bow of her blue scaled head. "In which case, I will continue to do so. Although," she added contemplatively, "depending on the outcome of this situation, it is possible that our own codes may not allow us to do so, if your position as prince is confirmed."

Wyldfyre allowed himself a chuckle at the thought of having all the dragons bowing to him and calling him 'Prince Wyldfyre', or even 'Prince Ithera', if it came to that, and consciously made a decision not to worry about the possible wider implications of that just yet. Ridding himself of his brief delusions of grandeur, Wyldfyre turned to the still silent Alara, laying peacefully on the ground, asleep.

"Alara will be fine, Wyldfyre," Art said quietly, seeing the concern in his friend's eyes. "But there were some things about her that I couldn't explain to the dragons. I was hoping that you would be able to answer the questions that I couldn't."

"What questions?" Wyldfyre asked as he bent down to Alara to make sure she was laid comfortably, a mild note of concern colouring his voice.

Art stepped to the side, a little hesitantly, to keep Wyldfyre's face in view as he checked over Alara. "Well, they say she has been touched by the Shadow. By Grimweir."

Wyldfyre stopped in mid-movement as Art spoke the name of their enemy. He looked up towards the swordsman and rose slowly and silently, a look of realisation spreading over his face. "Wait, surely... no, it couldn't be." Wyldfyre's voice was filled with shocked disbelief

"What?" Art pressed Wyldfyre for an explanation.

"Alara and I spoke a lot during our journey into Athyria, before you caught up with us," Wyldfyre began to explain, turning a little to speak to both Caraneth and Art, wanting both dragon and human to hear his answers. "She told me about a little of her childhood. Something about a wizard that captured her, killed her sister, and caused the transformation in her that changed her from a human into a half-human cat. Surely that couldn't have been Grimweir?"

"It would fit his behaviour," Caraneth confirmed, her voice filled with regret. "We discovered that, in the days before he managed to unleash the Shadow on your kin, he had performed experiments on many young elves, testing them, trying to find ways to spread the darkness of the Shadow among your kind. As you must have seen from your travels through the Forbidden Land, he was devastatingly successful in his work."

"It might also explain why she seemed so enraged when we met Grimweir at the castle in Korylth," Art offered.

Wyldfyre gave a forlorn sigh and let his head drop a little so he was looking at the ground lying before his feet, covered with soft grass that almost seemed to glow green with health in the darkness. He felt the feeling of despair and regret growing within him again, tearing of the very fabric of his soul. Art placed his hand in the elf's shoulder once more, reminding him that he was not alone.

A heavy silence hung over the group, and Art thought he began to see the very first slivers of light escaping over the low horizon to the west, the sky lightening very slightly from inky black to a very dark blue as the morning glow began to form, although sunrise was still a good couple of hours away at least, he judged.

"Wait," Wyldfyre said suddenly, cutting the silence and drawing the attention of Art and Caraneth again. "If Grimweir was taking humans for experimentation, if it really was him that took Alara, just as he did with the elves, then why, after all these years, has he not attacked the humans and done to them with the power of the Shadow what he did to my own kin?"

Both Caraneth and Art hesitated to tell Wyldfyre the answer, Caraneth because she wasn't sure it was her place to deliver such information, and Art because he wasn't sure how Wyldfyre would take the truth. He had, after all, always believed that he was the last of his kind. To both their mutual relief and surprise, they did not have to be the ones to tell him.

"Because," Alara's voice strained from the ground next to Wyldfyre, "as I assume they have discovered, and as you are about to, I'm not a human, and I never told you that I was. I'm one of your kin, as you so gracefully put it. I just let you assume what you wanted to."

Wyldfyre span rapidly towards Alara in surprise, and crouched down quickly, placing his hand on her side and noticing that her eyes were open and looking back at him. "Alara? Are you all right? What are you talking about?"

Both Art and Caraneth wore the same surprised expressions, and the blue dragoness quickly performed the same magical gesture towards the half-cat as she had done with Wyldfyre earlier, using her healing power to replenish Alara's strength.

Alara used her newfound strength to brush Wyldfyre's hand off her side. "I'm fine," she said indignantly as she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position. She looked up at the blue dragoness, seeming completely unfazed by her presence. "My name is Alara," she introduced herself, somewhat less agitatedly, "but I think you already know that. Thank you for helping to heal me, although I'm not quite sure I remember what happened to me."

"Grimweir," Art and Wyldfyre said at the same time, interrupting each other. Wyldfyre gestured to Art, who nodded and continued his brief explanation. "Grimweir attacked us, you were hurt quite badly."

Alara growled at the name and scowled, the gaze of her eyes almost burning a patch of the grass in anger as she stared intently at the ground, her memories lazily returning. "Ah, yes, I remember that damned demon wizard. If I'd have gotten two steps closer I would have killed him."

"Apparently so," Art agreed, before continuing with, "Alara, if you don't mind me asking, just how long have you been laid there listening to us talk?"

Alara smirked, the anger fading quickly, and replied only vaguely. "A while. I learned a long time ago that, if you wake up in an unfamiliar place, keep your eyes closed and listen." She sighed and continued as she spoke again, her voice strained with the effort of moving with stiff joints and muscles. "Besides, I thought I should be the one to tell him." As she finished standing, she turned to Wyldfyre. "I'm sorry," she said before pausing for a moment, watching Wyldfyre’s expression closely. "I wasn't sure if I should tell you before, I still wasn't sure that I could trust you completely. But now, well, perhaps it's better if we're all just honest with each other."

Wyldfyre tried to take in the revelation that he suddenly wasn't the only remaining elf in the world. He stumbled over his thoughts, trying to find something to say. "I... I never thought that..."

Alara looked at Art, her expression unsure, then back at Wyldfyre, seeing his face go through first surprise, then uncertainty, and then a whole multitude of emotions between the two. A moment later, his eyes began to water, and a single tear slipped slowly over his cheek.

Slowly, carefully, Alara raised her arms and held Wyldfyre in a gentle embrace. Her altered feline instinct caused her to purr reassuringly, something she didn't remember doing in a very long time, as she held Wyldfyre carefully against her chest. "I know," she said gently. "I thought I was the last too. I guess, after you've been through all the things I have, you end up being quite hardened against your emotions, but I'm glad you haven't, Wyldfyre."

Hesitating for a brief moment, Wyldfyre wrapped his arms back around Alara and held her back against him, a mix of joy and wonder running through him as more tears of joy began to fill his eyes and escape down his cheeks. Alara's warm purr filled his senses as he closed his eyes tightly, and for the first time since he had seen Larieth fall, he felt happy, a feeling that, just hours before, he had thought he would never feel again.

Art smiled as the pair embraced, and he turned to Caraneth, who wore a similar expression. The blue dragoness looked at him and nodded. "I know how it feels to be reunited with someone you never thought you would see again. When I was young, I lost my sister while we were exploring some caves near our home. She didn't return for hours, and I was so worried that she had been killed, that I would never see her again. When my father went out to find her and brought her home, I was just so relieved, so happy to see her. I cried for what felt like an age."

"I am glad to see that your story ended in happiness, as it seems that Wyldfyre and Alara's is here." Art grinned and brushed his hand through his hair thoughtfully again. "Although I imagine that you would have never expected such emotion or relief from a creature touched by the Shadow?"

Caraneth was caught off guard by the sudden question, and smiled at its wisdom. "You are right, Art. I wouldn't. But it is not my decision to make to decide what will be done with the three of you."

"Then what are we to do now?" Wyldfyre asked, slowly breaking the embrace with Alara and smiling up at Caraneth. It was clear that something in him, which had been lost when Larieth had been taken from them, had now been rediscovered, at least in part. There was a glimmer of hope in his eyes, Art noticed, a determination, just as the swordsman had seen when they had first met. Art was glad to see that part back in its rightful place.

"For now," Caraneth answered Wyldfyre's question, "we will have to wait until Noradin or the elders come to deliver their judgement on the situation. But," she offered with a mischievous grin, "seeing as you are all awake now, if I leave Varn watching over you, I could perhaps get you all something to eat. I think it is safe enough to feed you."

"That would be most appreciated, kind Caraneth," Art bowed slightly with a mixture of respect and thanks to the blue dragon.

Caraneth raised herself a little and placed a paw gently on the slumbering Varn’s shoulder. She opened her mouth to rouse him, but before the blue dragoness could utter a word, Varn began to speak.

"You wish for me to take care of our new friends?” The black dragon said gruffly, his eyes still defiantly closed as if he was hoping that he might still be allowed to continue his dreaming, although the tone of his voice belied the fact that he had resigned himself to being woken up and put on guard duty.

"If you would be so kind, Varn,” Caraneth nodded gently, even though she was aware that her companion would not see the gesture. "Our duty,” the dragoness continued in the same gentle tone, "is to guard these people against escape or any untoward mischief, not to starve them.”

The black dragon released a long echoing sigh and spread his forepaws, pressing them to the ground. With another sigh, he pushed himself upwards, and Art thought he could almost hear the dragon’s muscles creaking with the strain as they bulged slightly under his deep black scales. It was almost like seeing a creature of stone brought to life, moving as if his joints were still slightly solid, a statue transforming before his eyes into a living, breathing creature.

Varn settled in his new posture and cast a glance across the watching human and elves. "Very well,” he said flatly, but with a subtle shade of amusement in his voice, complimented by the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth, as if his instincts told him to smile wryly, but he was resisting them. "I will look after them for a while.”

Art found his spirits somehow raised by the fact that Varn had chosen to use the phrase ‘Look after’, rather than ‘watch’ or ‘guard’. It gave him hope that, after such hostile beginnings, these two dragons, three if Noradin was included, had grown to almost trust them, or at least not treat them as fugitives. But it was Varn’s reaction that pleased him most, as Caraneth was a healer, obviously trained in the art of being kind and caring for others, whereas Varn was a warrior, defending his land and his kin from intruders. If one of those defenders could begin to believe that Art and his companions were not the Shadow-tainted threat that they had, at first, appeared to be, perhaps the other dragons could too.

Caraneth raised her wings in preparation for her take off, blue wings glinting slightly in the very early light that the sky now afforded them, as well as in the light of the glowing embers that were all that remained of the fire set by Varn the previous night. With a single downward sweep of her wings, the blue dragoness was airborne. Art, Wyldfyre, and Alara raised their arms across their faces almost as one to protect against the rush of air that the healer created as she rose further, before letting herself swoop forwards and through the air towards the darker half of the horizon. She was slightly smaller than Noradin, but Art found her departure no less impressive.

The swordsman turned to the black dragon and tried to think of something to say, having grown accustomed to the conversation that he and Caraneth had indulged in prior to her departure. Varn coolly returned his gaze, the two facing each other in unspoken conversation, as if trying to sum each other up. Actual words failed Art, though, and after a few moments he sighed quietly and turned towards the remains of the fire, taking a few steps closer towards it and carefully settling down by the embers.

Varn watched Art as he settled, the only visible movement in the dragon being the slow tilt of his head as his gaze followed the swordsman. Satisfied that everything was under control, as was his duty, he shifted slightly and relaxed a little, resting back on his haunches, the noise of his paws swishing through the soft green grass seeping through the silence that had otherwise fallen over the impromptu campsite.

"Just how long are we going to be stuck out here, anyway?” Alara complained suddenly, her voice cutting back more sharply through the air than the sound of dragon paws against grass. She huffed and folded her arms across her chest to underline the look of irritation that she wore on her face as she looked up at the black dragon.

"Looks like Alara is feeling better,” Art grinned towards Wyldfyre, simply pleased to find something to smile about in their situation. The elf half-smiled in return and then looked at the cat-girl, still standing closely next to him, with an expression of sympathy. He seemed unable to find any words to comfort her, his mind still rushing with so much emotion after learning what she had been before Grimweir had worked his twisted powers over her. Alara shot a glance at Art, still wearing the same irritated stare that she had afforded the black dragon, but was much more concerned with directing her dissatisfaction at Varn, and quickly turned back to glare at the dragon once more, expectantly awaiting his answer.

Varn stiffened from his relaxed pose and frowned slightly at his elven charges, his tail flicking behind him in an irritable gesture, although it wasn’t immediately obvious to those watching whether it was an intentional or instinctual action.. "It will take as long as it takes,” the dragon explained, matter-of-factly, "and I, nor any of you, can do anything to change that.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, both Varn’s expression and his stance softened once again as the surprise that Alara had caused by startling with her complaint began to subside. "For what it is worth,” he said, slowly, in a more conciliatory tone, "I am sorry about this. But you must understand, there has not been such a violation of this border in many years, regardless of you being friend or foe, and I am sure our elders will be considering this situation very carefully.”

"We understand, Varn,” Wyldfyre offered in reply. "I would rather be here waiting and mostly healed than the alternative.” He turned slightly to the side, and looked around, back towards the mountains that they had flown over in desperation just the day before. It seemed like so long ago now. Wyldfyre’s hand reached beneath his cloak and across to his chest, which still ached with the trauma of his injuries, even with the aid of Caraneth’s healing abilities.

Silence fell over the group as both Art and Alara realised the weight of Wyldfyre’s statement. Unpleasant memories filled their memories, and Alara, much to her own surprise, found herself sidestepping slightly to press lightly against her fellow elf’s side. Art just looked into the smouldering embers of the fire, his mind replaying their desperate escape from Athyria.

Varn allowed the three to brood within their memories for a while, uncertain of what advice or counsel he could really hope to offer. That was Caraneth’s speciality, not his. He hoped that she would return soon, and slightly regretted having agreed to watch the trio on his own. Even for the charges and suspicion raised against them, Varn had no lack of sympathy for Wyldfyre and his friends. They did not seem like enemies or liars to him, and the tale that they had described was indeed tragic. Before long, he had fallen deep into his own thoughts.

**********

The sound of Caraneth landing near the others shook all four out of their memory-filled daydreaming. Wyldfyre shook his head a little in surprise and suddenly realised that sometime in the preceding few minutes, he and Alara had unthinkingly begun to hold hands. It seemed that Alara had realised the same in the exact same moment, as she made a mildly embarrassed chuckle and released his hand, looking away and back across their impromptu campsite.

Wyldfyre looked up at the blue dragoness as she settled from her flight. She carried something in one paw, mostly out of sight. Stepping slowly over in front of the spot that Art had sat himself, Caraneth began to breathe on the fire gently, flames springing back up almost immediately from what were previously just dull embers. Wyldfyre knew from experience that the breath Caraneth exhaled in that moment was more than just air, it was a form of gentle magic. Such a subtle method of applying her power was not necessary to use it effectively, but it fit perfectly with her character.

Caraneth brought the object she had brought with her into slightly clearer view. It was obviously some kind of creature that the dragoness had hunted, which she was now preparing to cook as she arranged it by the fire.

Wyldfyre tried to match the image of Caraneth the healer to the image of her hunting some small creature in the early morning to feed her new acquaintances. He mentally shrugged to himself, realising that he and Larieth had done no less on innumerable occasions before.

"It has been a while since I cooked in such rough conditions,” the healer explained as she worked on the meal she was preparing. "Or,” she continued, glancing up pointedly at Wyldfyre for a moment, "for such illustrious company.” Wyldfyre realised what was the blue dragoness was implying, and found himself still uncomfortable with the idea of being regarded as royalty, with all the responsibilities and standing that the position carried.

"Still,” Caraneth spoke again once she had finished her preparations and was placing the creature over the fire, "I hope that I can at least produce something palatable for you all.” Her voice cut like a knife through the sorrowful silence that otherwise pervaded the camp, her tones relatively cheerful and industrious, as if she either didn’t recognise the woeful expressions that her companions wore, or saw them all too clearly and was trying to bring a sense of cheer and hope back to them.

"I’m sure it will be fine,” Art nodded, looking up from the fire. He turned his head towards Caraneth, and realised with some surprise that she had stopped preparing their meal for cooking. Both she and Varn were suddenly looked up and away in the same direction towards the horizon, their eyes closed as if listening for some faint sound. "Caraneth?” Art said hesitantly, unsure of how to react.

"Don’t,” Wyldfyre cut in quickly, before Art could say anything further. Art turned quickly to look at his friend with a questioning expression, to which the elf replied with a nod and a smile before explaining. "It’s all right. I think I understand what they are doing. It’s a form of communication, like telepathy, they are speaking with someone.”

Art nodded once, slowly, and looked briefly back towards the two dragons, who were still held in the same still pose, gazing with closed eyes towards the distant horizon. He had heard stories of creatures that were able to speak over great distance, but this was the first time he had seen the skill in action close up. "Do you think they are speaking with Noradin?” The swordsman ventured. "Perhaps the elders he reported to have made their decision?”

"I assume so,” Wyldfyre agreed, also watching the dragons, as was Alara.

Silence once again fell over the group as the voiceless conversation took place between Caraneth, Varn, and their unseen friend. After a few moments, the blue and black dragons opened their eyes and turned their gaze back towards the three watching them.

"Ah, my apologies,” Caraneth dipped her head slightly. "Of course, you perhaps would not recognise that we were-"

"Telepathy,” Alara interrupted nonchalantly, a knowing grin spreading over her face as if she was an expert in the subject. She looked across briefly to see Wyldfyre glancing back at her, his expression caught between surprise and amusement. Her grin faded into an overly sincere smile as she looked back up at the blue dragoness and asked, "were you speaking with Noradin?”

"Well, actually, yes, we were,” Caraneth nodded slightly, the surprise in her voice evident as she replied. "He was telling us that our elders have finished deliberating over how to deal with you.”

As Caraneth spoke, the seriousness of the situation once again fell over the group. Varn raised himself slowly to all fours, the black dragon once again looking every bit like a living statue as his scales and muscles flexed. An uneasy silence blanketed the area, as if even the early morning birds and the earth itself had reacted to the situation, becoming quiet and subdued.

Alara watched Varn nervously as he regarded the group with an unreadable expression, while Wyldfyre and Art simply exchanged resigned looks. As Wyldfyre looked back towards the two dragons, he felt something had suddenly been lost, as if the past short while of getting to know their captors and gaining something of their trust almost hadn’t happened, and that they were all back at the point of having just met.

"What has been decided?” Wyldfyre was the first to speak the question that was also at the forefront of the minds of both his companions. His voice was flat and emotionless, despite his attempt to make it sound much friendlier.

Caraneth shifted her weight from one forepaw to the other, but remained settled back on her haunches. "We are to prepare you to be transported,” she said, matter-of-factly. "Our elders are sending Noradin and some of the other Shadow Guardians to escort you.”

"A precautionary measure, I’m sure,” Art forced a smile as he spoke. "Of course, your elders must be careful of anyone who arrives in your lands in such a way as we have. They haven’t spoken with us and come to understand us as you have, Caraneth.”

The blue dragoness nodded slightly and smiled back at the swordsman. "Of course,” she agreed, the atmosphere around the group melting a little as she spoke. Even Varn relaxed visibly, although he remained on all fours.

"Where are we to be transported to?” Wyldfyre enquired, a little less flatly this time. "Your home city?”

"Hardly,” Varn said in a gently dismissive tone, his expression dutiful.

Caraneth looked towards Varn, feeling slightly uncomfortable at his suddenly hardened posture, but also understanding it. Shadow Guardians trained long and hard to defend their homeland, a duty they, naturally, took very seriously indeed. While his attitude had softened during the night, while the situation was calm and under control, with the arrival of his fellow Guardians to aid with the safe movement of their visitors – she now preferred to think of them as such – he justifiably wanted to appear in the best possible light to his superiors. It was not, however, a disposition she could easily adopt, and she had no wish to either.

"Where, then, if I may ask?” Wyldfyre followed up his previous question after a brief pause, his voice, as well as his expression, open and friendly once more, despite Varn’s shift in temperament.

"Hyaralene,” Caraneth interrupted Varn before he could begin to speak, knowing that his newly renewed sense of duty would force him to offer up only denials and evasions. Varn shot the healer a vaguely frustrated glance, wordlessly expressing his desire and duty to handle the situation by the rules he had been taught since he had been a mere youngling. Caraneth ignored him.

"This is nonsense, Varn,” the blue dragoness argued, much less wordlessly, returning the black dragon’s glance with equal intensity. Her voice was gentle, but carried a slightly stern and reasoned note in line with the intensity of her expression. "We must take care, of course, as instructed by the laws that we all live by, to keep our kind safe from the taint of the Shadow. But,” she paused for emphasis, "there is nothing in those laws that requires us to behave rudely to our guests, regardless of where they may have emerged from.”

Wyldfyre noticed that the blue dragoness had used the word ‘guests’ very specifically, stressing it to her duty bound companion, and he found a great deal of comfort in that fact. Varn, for his part, reacted by blowing a dissatisfied snort through his nostrils, but didn’t raise any argument against her, nor made any move to prevent her from revealing any more information.

The elf wondered idly whether, had he not been bound by his duty, a position that Wyldfyre did understand and respect, Varn might have been much different in his approach to his two companions. The black dragon’s earlier admission of sympathy for their situation spoke of a different dragon behind the mask of obligation and responsibility he was now wearing.

Any further thought on that point, however, was interrupted as Caraneth began to speak again, turning her muzzle back to face the ‘guests’ that she had spoken of.

"Our elders have been instructed to have you taken to Hyaralene,” the blue dragoness explained in more detail. "They will convene a Council there so that the dragons from all corners of our land will be represented in deciding how we should proceed. After all,” she dipped her head slightly, "the Shadow is a matter that affects us all.”

There was another moment of quiet between the dragons, elves, and human as they considered Caraneth’s words. It wasn’t long, however, before Alara meekly ventured her opinion, echoed by her grumbling stomach. "Excuse me, Caraneth,” she smiled slightly, carefully controlling her expression as she had learned to do over the years, "but I would think it would also be fairly rude to have your guests travel on an empty stomach.”

Caraneth blinked in slight surprise at the comment, and then broke out into a chuckle as she grinned widely. "Yes, yes it would indeed!” The blue dragoness smirked towards Varn. "The Shadow Guardians have waited a long time for an opportunity to save our lands and show their worth. I am sure a few more minutes will cause no harm.” The black dragon dutifully didn’t react, and Caraneth returned to her tending of the fire, and the preparation of the captured meal that she had been attending to prior to her telepathic contact with Noradin.

For a while longer, before the other Shadow Guardians arrived to take them away, a sense of calm tranquillity returned to settle over the impromptu campsite. The scent of cooking meat soon drifted on the gentle breeze that had started to blow over the surrounding grassy plains, awakening the hunger of those who had not yet identified the sensation in their stomachs.

As they waited, Wyldfyre found himself gently holding Alara’s hand in his own. Against his palm he could feel the soft, short fur that covered her from head to tail as a result of the transformation she had suffered. He looked up and saw her cat-like eyes staring straight back into his own. He felt naked against her stare, almost like she could see into the depths of his soul, and was looking for something, although he didn’t quite know what.

Wyldfyre smiled warmly and said the only thing that he could think to.


Wyldfyre

"It’ll be okay.”

That’s what I told Alara. I wasn’t really sure if I even believed the words myself, but I wanted her to believe them. Right from the very start, when I captured her on the rooftops of Gateway following her theft from Dai O’Rourke’s bazaar, I just knew there was something different about her. That feeling was part of the reason I helped her escape on that fateful day; I had to protect her from the life she had fallen into, to try and help her find a new path.

Of course, having led her into the ruined lands of Athyria, where we were all very nearly killed, it could be argued that I didn’t do a very good job of protecting her. I can’t deny that, and I wouldn’t try to. But that feeling has continued to grow, almost as if I knew the truth, that she was really an elf, just like me, without consciously realising it. Now, finally, I begin to realise the truth of my feelings; I care about Alara. I care about her more than I realised. It doesn’t matter so much that she is an elf, although it was that discovery, that joyous moment, which finally allowed me to realise the true extent of my own feelings.

The loss of Larieth still burns painfully within me, and it is a pain that I am not sure I will ever fully extinguish. But where before there was nothing but that agony and emptiness, now there is something new, something that forces the encroaching darkness away, a reason to go on living, which is something I thought I had lost forever. It doesn’t matter what happens now, what punishment the dragons may decide to reward us with for entering their ‘Forbidden Lands’, I will not allow anything to happen to Alara. I will protect her until my final breath… just as Larieth did for me.

It’ll be okay. I promise.


Art

I had never considered myself much of a diplomat, but speaking with Caraneth and Varn changed my mind somewhat. Perhaps it was needing to deal with the seemingly endless stream of nobles that wanted their usually arrogant and ignorant sons to be trained by a famous and respected swordsman that helped me to develop the skill without noticing. But I’ve already complained about those nobles and their sons.

Of course, I have never harboured the thought that all problems could be solved at the point of a sword, but knowing that you can handle the subtler situations, as well as those that require the more direct and forceful solutions, well, it is a reassuring thought.

I thought that things turned out very well, or at least, as well as we could have hoped for. While Caraneth was most certainly a gentle soul, she was not naïve, and if she could come to trust us as much as she had seemed to, that held hope for the Council that would be convened to debate our situation.

The other Shadow Guardians arrived quickly, though not before we had been able to enjoy the meal that Caraneth had kindly provided. There were five, including Noradin, all of varying colours, creating a near rainbow of dragons to escort us through the sky to Hyaralene. At first, I was unsure how they intend to perform their escort duty, certain that they would not simply allow us to fly while seated on their backs, as both Larieth and Wyldfyre had done.

In fact, their method was both amazing and terrifying, in equal measure. Caraneth quickly gave her farewells to us, while Varn afforded us all a slight nod from a distance. Once the blue healer dragoness had retreated to the same distance as Varn, the five Shadow Guardians surrounded us in a wide circle. We, for want of a better course of action, looked back at them, wondering what they intended to do. It was at that point that I noticed the chest plates that they were wearing.

Each Shadow Guardian had, in the middle of their chest, a small silver plate. It was about the size of a human hand, and was diamond in shape, with the point at the bottom tapering much more gradually than the point at the top. In the centre of each of the plate was a small blue gem, while the rest of the surface was covered in ornate carvings, though the etchings were too fine to be picked out at the distance the dragons stood from us.

The plates were strapped around the dragons’ necks and around what would have been their shoulders, if they stood upright, by strips of a thin silvery material. The silver fabric glittered gently in the glimmer of early morning and slipped lightly over the scales of the dragons as they moved, seeming far too insubstantial to support the weight of the plates. Yet, somehow, the plates remained firmly tied to the dragons’ chests. I suspected that magic was involved somewhere within that arrangement, and I suspected even more that the ornately designed and bejewelled plates were meant for far more than decoration. I was not wrong.

After a brief pause, the dragons closed their eyes, almost in unison, and a faint hum began the thrum its way around the circle that surrounded us. It is difficult to describe, but the world seemed almost to slow down as the dragons worked their magic. The gentle breeze died out, and a sense of great concentration and power began to build. At the same time, the gems that were fixed to the silver plates adorning the dragons began to glow with a cold blue light. The light intensified, as did the hum that continued to roll through the air.

Without warning, each gem simultaneously released a shaft of bright blue energy, focussed on where we were standing together. The five beams approached quickly, but they never reached us, for as they stretched to the midway point between us and the dragons, the blue rays suddenly frayed and spread out. It was as if they were really bright blue streams of water, falling as if poured down towards us, rather than across, and that they had met with an invisible and impenetrable barrier surrounding Wyldfyre, Alara, and I. The ‘puddles’ of energy spread outwards over the surface of the invisible barrier, quickly coming into contact with each other and merging into a single spherical bubble around us, pulsing and shimmering slightly, while dousing all three of us in an eerie blue glow.

When the bubble was complete, the dragons turned away to face the same direction. The beams of blue energy, which still connected the bubble to each of the dragons’ chest plates, flexed and curved to maintain the link without coming into contact with the dragons themselves. Next, in a manoeuvre that the five must surely have practiced many times, the dragons spread their wings wide and thrust them powerfully downwards to lift off. The bubble, which extended completely around us in all directions, even right under our feet, gently lifted off as well, carrying us up with it. The sudden movement caused us all to stumble, and it was amusing to see my two elven companions grasp each other quickly to prevent themselves falling over. They smiled at each other, despite the situation. I think I did too.

It seemed like a precarious structure to be carried aloft in, a bubble of nothing but energy, but it certainly felt solid to my feet, enough so to make the slightly curved floor beneath us difficult to stand upright on. As the dragons began to direct their wing beats to take them towards the rising sun beyond the horizon, we all made the silent agreement that it would be more comfortable to sit on the floor of the bubble, to avoid being forced to stumble once again as the bubble changed direction.

Leaving Caraneth and Varn behind, both clearly visible as they watched us from the ground below through the unnatural blueness of the bubble, we embarked on what was probably the most bizarre journey I have ever taken. And I’ve been on some strange journeys, believe me.


Alara

"It’ll be okay.”

That’s what Wyldfyre told me. I could tell that he wasn’t really sure about the words, but I knew he wanted me to believe them. In a way, that made me want to. It’s difficult to explain, I suppose, but the way I see it, Wyldfyre is a very special person, not just to me, but to almost everyone his life touches. At least that’s what I think. After all, Art followed him all the way here, and I let him ‘rescue’ me from Gateway when I was in a fix there. I think people find it easy to care about him, almost as if they are drawn to him without realising; it seems like even that old weasel of a shopkeeper O’Rourke had a soft spot for him, judging by Wyldfyre’s story, and if he can somehow melt that heart of ice, well...

I am glad that my secret has been uncovered, I just wish that I had been the one to reveal the truth. I held on to it for too long, I realise that now, but I suppose that old habits die hard, as the saying goes. I think, I hope, that Wyldfyre won’t hold it against me. I don’t care what those dragons think of me, and it might not even matter what Art thinks either, just as long as Wyldfyre doesn’t hold it against me.

But standing here, with Wyldfyre holding my hand, I don’t think he ever would. The warmth from his fingers softly penetrates my palm, and fills me with a feeling I haven’t tasted very much in my life. Hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this might all turn out all right, and that these dark days may eventually come to an end. That perhaps the storm clouds that have overshadowed me since I was young really do have an edge.

Right now, though, being here, no longer holding back any secrets, and being close to Wyldfyre, this feels good. There is a kind of peace here, a lull in the storm, despite the danger that may lay ahead, and that is something that I afford great value. When you have lived as I have, you learn to appreciate the small breaks that life sometimes offers.

"It’ll be okay,” Wyldfyre says. Who knows, maybe it will. You’re the first person to say it to me that I could actually believe in.