Galanör sighed and nodded along with heavy eyes and dark lids. “Gideon,” he said, on the verge of leaving. “What do we do now?” he asked, glancing back at the dig site.
Gideon gave the only answer he had. “I don’t know.” He planted a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “Get some rest, old friend.”
After Galanör turned and walked away, Gideon ducked his head and entered Inara’s shelter. She was rubbing her eyes, creating a deep frown between the two. Her leathers were a testament to not only the battle, but also the duel with her brother.
“Gideon?” Inara’s voice was hoarse, like so many who had survived the fighting.
“I’m here,” he assured, taking a seat beside her.
“I feel so weak,” Inara complained, wincing at the light.
“You used a lot of your magic. You will recover.” Even as he said those words he couldn’t get the image of the burning tree out of his mind.
“You saw it?” Inara was looking up at him from her cot.
“Yes. I tried to put out some of the fire but there’s too much.”
Tears streaked down the side of Inara’s face, cutting through the dirt. “I failed,” she sobbed. “I failed us all.”
Gideon’s eyes welled with tears now and he reached out to comfort her. “You didn’t fail.”
“Of course I did,” Inara protested. “We came to stop him, yet he still succeeded. I’m not the one you thought I was. My birth wasn’t fated to happen. I wasn’t meant to save the world. Everything The Crow did was to make sure Alijah destroyed the world of magic. Now we have to watch them die.”
Gideon didn’t need to ask her to know that Inara was referring to their dragons. “I don’t believe that,” he stated firmly. “We are still alive, which means there is still a fight to be had. We will not let this be the end.”
Inara squeezed his hand. “I can’t beat him,” she said defeatedly. “I tried. He’s too powerful now. He…” Her words trailed off as her eyes glazed over.
“What is it?” Gideon demanded.
Inara made to answer but her thoughts and words collided with naught but silence for their efforts.
“Inara?”
“In the pit,” she said at last, “when we were fighting…” Her hand reached up to touch her neck. “I was sure I saw wounds appear from nowhere. It looked like a bite mark.” Inara shook her head. “It’s all so fuzzy. I must have been seeing things - I hit my head more than once.”
Gideon, Ilargo commanded. I bit Malliath’s neck after Alijah and Inara descended into the pit.
Indeed, a flash of memory informed Gideon of the details, including the taste of Malliath’s blood in Ilargo’s mouth. It also offered new and crucial pieces to the puzzle that had plagued them since Namdhor.
This could change everything, Gideon concluded.
For some, yes, Ilargo agreed. For others, it will not.
Gideon could think of a few who wouldn’t care at all. Then he wondered if he was one of those people.
“What’s wrong?” Inara asked. “You’re talking to Ilargo.”
Gideon took a breath and leaned forward on his elbows. “I think you saw what you saw.”
Inara groaned as she attempted to sit herself up but ultimately rested on her elbows. “How can that be? He told you their bond had never been like a Dragorn’s to begin with.”
Gideon nodded in agreement. “But what he told me and what we’ve both seen doesn’t match up.”
Inara frowned. “Both seen? What are you talking about, Gideon?”
The old master glanced out of the tent, in Ilargo’s direction. “When we confronted Alijah and Malliath, in Namdhor, they both bore injuries from Qamnaran.”
“Yes,” Inara replied. “Adilandra threw him into The Hox and Malliath dived in after him; I saw those wounds myself.”
“Did you notice Alijah’s limp?” Gideon questioned. “Malliath’s back left leg was barely touching the ground.”
“That isn’t proof,” Inara said, shaking her head.
“And the cut above Alijah’s eye?” Gideon continued.
“I saw it,” Inara confirmed.
“Malliath had the exact same cut in the exact same place. It was harder to see because of his dark scales but Ilargo didn’t miss it. Now you witness shared injuries as they actually happen. Inara, I don’t think you hit your head and imagined it. I think—”
“They’re still bonded like Dragorn,” Inara interjected, the revelation washing over her at last. “They share pain.”
“They share more than that,” Gideon determined. “If they share pain, they are one life. That also explains why Malliath kept Ilargo and Athis chasing him for so long rather than turning to fight them.”
“He couldn’t risk Alijah suffering his injuries while he needed to get to the doorway,” Inara continued, picking up the thread.
“It means Malliath has been, and is still, influencing Alijah’s thoughts and feelings,” Gideon elaborated.
Inara’s mouth fell open. “How can this be?” she questioned absently.
“It’s the only explanation for what we have both seen.”
“No, I mean how can this be? Alijah believes his bond is that of a Dragon Rider. He would know that to be a lie if they shared wounds.”
Dismayed, Gideon shrugged. “It is likely a testament to Malliath’s control over Alijah. He has been blinded to it all, tricked into believing they are his injuries alone. Or perhaps Malliath makes him oblivious to the wounds altogether.”
“How can Malliath’s influence be so consuming as to fool Alijah?” Inara queried. “Athis may have guided my emotions now and then to ensure I didn’t take the violent path, but he has promised me that was the extent of his abilities.”
“Ilargo was the same,” Gideon reassured. “He has never been able to directly control my thoughts and, from his mother’s memories, no dragon ever has in Elandril’s order.”
“Then what? My brother is a puppet?”
“There are extraordinary circumstances involved where Alijah is concerned. He was tormented in every way by The Crow. His mind was already being broken down before his bond with Malliath matured.”
“He was always strong of mind,” Inara said, shaking her head. “There’s a part of me
