Lying down beside her, Asher reached out and ran a gentle finger along her snout, feeling the ridges of her scales. It was only a flash but, for just a moment, he saw through Avandriell’s eyes as she dreamed of flying over mountains. The ranger absorbed some of her peace and rested his head in the hay. Perhaps they would dream together.
Before the dawn, when the world was in a deep slumber and the night still held sway, Asher’s eyes snapped open. He remained still, on his back, while his senses did their best to inform him of the environment. What remained of the moon cast the stables in a pale gloom; enough light to prevent the Nightseye elixir in his veins from activating.
The air was still and noticeably cold since Avandriell was no longer beside him. The latter set alarms ringing in Asher’s mind. When had she moved? Where had she gone? Focusing on their bond, he knew she was nearby but… The ranger quickly shifted his focus away from the dragon, his attention captured by that sixth sense he had spent his entire life honing.
He wasn’t alone.
Asher cautiously rose into a sitting position and scanned his immediate surroundings. His quiver, folded bow, and short-sword were still propped up against the wall, his broadsword lying on the ground in front of them. Fully attired in his leathers and green cloak, he only had to take his weapons in hand to be ready for anything.
Somewhere above him, further along the building, one of the wooden beams creaked. It was subtle and easily explained away with half a dozen reasons, but something told the ranger to arm himself sooner rather than later. Instead of picking up his broadsword and quiver, Asher simply grasped the hilt of his deadly short-sword and pulled it free from its hourglass scabbard.
Leaving the stall and his other weapons behind, the ranger crept into the main area of the stables. His eyes roamed from left to right, surveying the web of beams overhead, where he discovered naught but impenetrable shadows. Though he was careful not to cross a shaft of moonlight and potentially expose himself, his silvyr blade passed through and glistened as if it was inlaid with hundreds of diamonds.
“Exquisite,” came a low voice, turning Asher on the spot.
Facing the back of the stables, where there was no door, the ranger watched as the shadows gave birth to a lone figure clad in black hardened leathers. Asher would have recognised the outline anywhere, an outline made all the more distinct by the short-swords poking over each shoulder.
“I can hear it,” the voice continued as the figure moved towards the ranger. “The silvyr,” he elaborated. “It’s excited by the moonlight.” Entering some of that light himself, his bald head and dark skin were contrasted by the red blindfold that concealed his eyes.
Asher’s grip tightened around the hilt of his blade. “Veda Malmagol,” he said casually, as if the man in front of him wasn’t among the best killers in the realm.
“I love its duality,” Veda continued, his head tilted to suggest his gaze was lowered. “Its beauty is paired with a deadly edge. How many people have you killed with it, I wonder.”
The ranger twisted the blade in his hand. “I’m about to revise the number,” he threatened with half a smile.
Veda met it with a broader smile. “You have more than earned your confidence, Asher. Today, however, I fear it is arrogance.” The Father of Nightfall remained perfectly still as multiple Arakesh emerged from the darkness all across the stable. They were high and low, positioned to come at the ranger from a variety of angles.
“After all this time,” Veda drawled, “tracking you down was so easy. To think I had eyes looking out for you everywhere.” The Father laughed. “There was no missing a force of thousands trudging across the realm. I never thought you would be so careless,” he taunted.
Asher took a breath, his expression one of boredom. “Your mistake was thinking I cared to begin with.”
Veda’s mouth twisted with amusement. “Your words may sound as hard as that blade in your hand, but we both know that you have spent a lifetime running from the past. Well,” he said, raising his hands, “we are your past. And we have cornered you like the animal you are.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Asher retorted. “You’re not my past. You’re barely Arakesh. You’re just survivors, a faded echo of an order long dead.”
Veda’s expression shifted, losing any and all amusement with it. “We are the future,” he insisted with an edge of fury in his voice.
“Was that before or after I whittled your numbers down?” Asher prodded.
The Father’s chest puffed out with his breath. “I have rallied every living Arakesh to this one spot so that, together, we can eliminate the last remnant of an old order.”
Asher made a cursory inspection of the men and women surrounding him. “This is all of them?” he enquired eagerly. “Do you promise?”
His hungry smile enraged the Father all the more, causing him to step forward and draw both of his short-swords. Mirroring their leader, every Arakesh pulled free their weapons and braced themselves in an attacking stance. Asher didn’t move a muscle. Instead, he waited and watched.
“Which one of you is the bravest I wonder. I suppose it’s whoever doesn’t want to watch the others die.”
“We are Arakesh,” Veda stated. “We do not know fear.”
To Asher, that was just another reason why none of them were real Arakesh. He tilted his head to better see the scar that ran down from Veda’s left eye to his jawline. “You were afraid when I gave you that,” he pointed out. “Or was running away part of your strategy?”
Veda flashed his teeth with a quick snarl. “You will not get the honour of a quick death.”
The ranger was hardly aware of the man’s last words, his attention having shifted to his faithful companion. It brought a fresh
