that the Keeper of Secrets would “soon be free,” what was her understanding of “soon”?
And what did dragons have to do with it all? Thinking about the dragons’ Prophecy still made his head spin, and being around Gaven seemed to make its mysterious words and dire warnings a very present reality. For months he’d been out of Gaven’s orbit, pleasantly isolated from any thought of the Prophecy, but as soon as he met Gaven again there were dragons involved and he had to wonder why.
There was another, no less disturbing consequence of being back with Gaven. He was wearing Darraun’s face again, and he found his thoughts running along familiar channels-scheming, suspicious, convoluted. As Darraun, he was a spy again. He had tried to leave that person behind in the Labyrinth, but he’d slipped back into that mode in order to placate Gaven, to present a familiar face. He didn’t like that familiar face.
That, at least, was a problem with an easy solution. As he walked behind Gaven, he changed again, taking the tall, warm, proud and noble form he’d created for Aunn. When Gaven indicated that Cart should be just over the next rise, Aunn put a hand on Gaven’s shoulder.
“Gaven?” he said.
Gaven turned around and started with surprise at the man before him. “What’s this?”
“My name is Aunn. That’s my real name.” He swallowed, waiting for a reaction that didn’t come. “That’s who I want to be.”
Gaven looked at him for a long time. “Aunn it is,” he said. “I’m pleased to meet you.” He turned with a smile and crested the rise.
“Gaven!” Cart’s voice sent a thrill of anxiety through Aunn’s body. “Where have you been?”
“Look who I found.” Gaven turned and took Aunn’s elbow. “Aunn, I believe you know Cart, and this is Ashara d’Cannith. This is Aunn. Cart, you know him as Darraun.”
“Darraun,” Cart said. His voice carried a hint of amusement. “So who did we bury?”
“I found a corpse that bore some resemblance to Darraun’s face, and did my best to disguise it. I’m sorry.”
Cart laughed. “I told you, Gaven, didn’t I?”
“You did.” Gaven didn’t share Cart’s amusement.
“No matter, Darraun. Or Aunn. I’m glad to see you alive.”
“And I’m glad you’re not me,” Ashara added, stepping forward to clasp his hand in greeting.
Aunn didn’t understand the joke, but it made Gaven laugh at last.
To Gaven, the appearance of the storm above the Dragon Forge had seemed like a sign calling him back to destroy the eldritch machine that had stolen his mark. Knowing that the storm had been a weapon sent to devastate the Eldeen Reaches revolted him, and he felt responsible for the use of his dragonmark. Aunn’s return and Kelas’s death reinforced that message, and Aunn’s concerns about the Keeper of Secrets, the chance the imprisoned fiend might escape, solidified it. He still burned to find Rienne, but the Dragon Forge seemed like a more imminent concern-even discounting the possibility of reclaiming his mark.
“Malathar is my greatest concern,” Cart said, staring into their campfire.
“Malathar?” Aunn asked.
“The dragon-king from Argonnessen,” Gaven explained. “He’s ancient, mighty-”
“Undead,” Cart added.
Aunn raised an eyebrow. “Well, to our advantage, we know what we’re up against. There are preparations we can make, protective wards and enhancements to our weapons.”
“His breath is devastating,” Gaven said.
“I think I’m up to the challenge,” Aunn replied, and somehow he bolstered Gaven’s confidence.
“I hope you don’t overestimate your skill,” Ashara said. She had a hand at her chin, half-covering a bemused smile. “You are talking about significant infusions of power.”
“I apologize, Lady Cannith,” Aunn said. “I certainly didn’t mean to discount your own skill at artifice. Between the two of us-”
“Do you know the ninth weaving of Merrix the First?”
Aunn’s eyes showed no recognition, and Gaven’s confidence faltered. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with House Cannith’s terminology-”
“Where were you trained?”
“I had a private tutor. I figured a lot out on my own.”
“You figured it out on your own,” Ashara repeated. “How can you hope to understand the weavings of artifice figuring it out on your own?”
“It’s simply a matter of untangling the knots, Lady. I find it quite intuitive.”
“I require a demonstration.”
Gaven frowned at her. Ashara was always kind and mild with Cart, but her manner with Gaven, and now with Aunn, could be curt. Imperious-given her position in the House, she was used to issuing commands and having them obeyed. She had to remember that she was not in charge of this group, he thought.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Gaven said. “I’ve seen Aunn do-”
Aunn interrupted. “It’s all right, Gaven. I’ll give a demonstration.” He made a small bow toward Ashara. “Would you care to name the task?”
“Cart, would you let Aunn borrow your axe, please?”
Cart hefted his axe and passed it to Aunn, who looked at Ashara expectantly.
“Do your best,” she said. “Prepare it for the battle ahead.”
Aunn closed his eyes and placed his hand flat on the blade. A smile danced at the corner of his mouth. Gaven watched him carefully but couldn’t make sense of what he was doing. He ran a finger down the edge, ran his hand down the haft, traced twisting runes on the head with two fingertips. After a long moment, he opened his eyes, let out his breath, and handed the axe to Ashara.
As soon as her hand touched the weapon, Ashara’s eyes shot open wide. She examined the axe for only a few heartbeats, then handed it back to Cart.
“This will serve you well,” she said. Turning her eyes back to Aunn, she returned his bow. “Your skill is at least the equal of mine. I’m sorry I doubted you.”
Now it was Aunn’s turn to look surprised. “That is high praise.”
“Yes, it is. Now let’s get to work on the rest of our preparations.”
Gaven’s sword was next, and when Aunn handed it back he could feel it sing in his hand, longing for the battle ahead. While Aunn worked on the sword, Ashara handled Aunn’s mace, and then she put her hands on Gaven’s back, weaving magic into his armor.
An ache fell on Gaven’s heart, thinking of Rienne’s hand on his back, the touch that always calmed and soothed him. Where was she? Then he thought of her bitter words on the Sea Tiger: “I’ll cover your back. I hope you can spare a thought to cover mine.” Did she still hold that bitterness in her heart? Did she think he’d simply abandoned her in Rav Magar, forgetting to cover her back once again? Facing Malathar would have been so much easier, he realized, with Rienne fighting beside him.
On Jordhan’s ship, they had talked about the Prophecy, about the Time Between that was just beginning. Now it appeared the Time Between had reached its end. The fleeting time it took for the hourglass of history to reverse itself was over, or would soon be. The Time of the Dragon Below was beginning, and he had no more insight into what the future held than he had on the Sea Tiger. The Blasphemer’s legions… Who was the Blasphemer? Malathar?
Gaven stared at the ground between his feet as Ashara finished her work.
I’m lost without you, Ree, he thought.
Then the preparations were complete, and Gaven led the way back to the Dragon Forge.
The dragon and the soldiers who had fenced them into the worgs’ temple hadn’t returned, so they approached the forge the same way Gaven, Cart, and Ashara had fled it. They squeezed between the rock and the blue crystal, and worked their way slowly through the tunnel.
You walk boldly to your doom.
It was the merest whisper at the back of Gaven’s mind, but he felt it gnaw at his resolve like a rat. Darkness stalked through the crystal, shadowing his movements.
You think to stand before a power that was already great when Karrn the Conqueror took his first infant steps.
