long night of drinking and not after several days of running. No howling dreamers or singing Choir came to rouse her from her rest and send her running into dark places to hide. There were no calls of the city watch or bawdy songs sung in seedy taverns, no screaming mother or disapproving father to let her know that all was normal. And above all, no Tessaeril to find her and bring her home when she’d strayed too far or had too much to drink, to wince at the sight of a new bruise or cut earned while being foolish.
Am I foolish? she thought. Am I out here for no reason other than my own guilt? A fool’s errand to ease my mind?
As the sky slowly turned before her weary eyes, stars exploded into fragments amid the facets of distant crystals. Night flowers bloomed, unfurling long stems to rise above the grass. It was an alien place to her, as most places were when she ran from the things she should have done. She’d lived so long in the shadows of life, the dark places between responsibility and obligation, that she hadn’t known true darkness until running away was all she had. She closed her eyes tightly, holding herself still and tried to pretend that in time sleep would come quickly and easily.
“You should get some rest,” Vaasurri said, causing her to exhale a held breath and smile despite herself.
“How do you know I wasn’t already asleep?” she asked. “Perhaps you woke me up.”
Vaasurri shifted in the moonlight, his fey eyes studying her closely as he leaned forward.
“Most people don’t act tough when they’re really asleep,” he answered. “Also, your breathing is too fast, your pulse too strong, and unless you intend to engage your dreams in mortal combat, that grip on your sword was a giveaway as well.”
She released the tension in her hand in surprise, unaware she had been prepared to draw the blade. Sighing, she relaxed somewhat and shook her head.
“I used to have no problem at all falling asleep. No matter what trouble I’d get myself into, I knew it would all go away by the next day or the day after that,” she said, picturing her soft bed at home with a twinge of guilt. “Out here though…”
“We don’t call it trouble,” Vaasurri replied, sitting up and returning to his watch. “Trouble is temporary. This is survival, and it is constant, one moment to the next, from rest to hunting to being hunted… The blood and the bloom.”
She turned to him at the last, wondering where she’d heard the familiar expression before and fearing the answer. Though it slipped away from her wakeful mind, she somehow knew her answer would be forthcoming if sleep did indeed find her. She rose on one elbow to face the killoren.
“How did you meet Uthalion?” she asked.
“Actually, he saved my life.” He turned and smiled. “By trying to kill me,” he added.
“Ah, that’s reassuring,” she said, eager to hear the rest of the story. But the sound of distant howls, weak and echoing through the broken land, reached her ears like the first rumbles of thunder in a coming storm. Vaasurri turned to face the sound as Ghaelya swiftly rose to a crouch, her sword drawn.
“But that,” she said, “is not.”
Two of the infant kaia charged into the firelight, squealing and snapping their jaws, their whiplike tails propelling them forward behind clawed little arms. Uthalion’s blade intercepted the first, splashing its ochre blood into the grass and splitting its wriggling body in two. Others, smaller than their dead sibling, pounced on the twitching body and dragged it back into the dark, growling and fighting over its flesh. The second kaia made straight for the kneeling half-elf even as more of the beasts crawled from their hiding places to surround the pair.
Wide jaws revealed gleaming teeth dripping with spittle as Brindani finally looked up and saw the beast advancing on him. Uthalion could not see the surprise in the half-elfs eyes, but dearly wished he could have witnessed that one brief moment of clarity. He hurled his dagger, sending it end over end to sink into the little kaia’s body. It squealed, a keening that was a blessing compared to the thunderous voice of the adult beast.
The creature flopped away, bleeding yellow fluid from around the knife embedded in its stumpy neck. Its siblings saw their opportunity and charged in at the half-elf who’d managed to rise on one knee and draw his sword. Uthalion rushed in, cursing the bleary look in Brindani’s eyes and split the tail of one kaia before skewering another, throwing it from the end of his blade to smash upon the stone wall.
Backing closer to the firelight, Uthalion tried to form an estimate of how many kaia had surrounded them and found himself losing count by the heartbeat. Brindani had collected himself and sidestepped the charge of another beast, cleaving its skull and kicking his blade free as he nimbly joined the human. Uthalion could only stare in surprise at the half-elfs sudden recovery.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Brindani asked, lucid and seemingly fine as he placed his back to Uthalion’s so they could view all points of attack. “I barely had time to draw my sword.”
“Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?” Uthalion answered dryly, stabbing another kaia and shoving its little body back to the others. He added, “I thought you were worm-food for a moment there.”
Brindani laughed as he slashed at the beasts. The sound of his unexpected mirth was almost frightening, bordering on madness, and Uthalion did not like the idea of Brindani’s sword swinging so nearby.
“No, Uthalion,” the half-elf said at length. “Al! things in their own good time.”
The other kaia, frenzied by the scent of blood, swarmed into the light, their budding eyes glistening like drops of sap. The largest of them, the size of a hunting cat, scrambled through the dirt and hurled themselves at the two warriors. A long tail whipped around Uthalion’s ankle, and he cut it free, reversing the slash to widen the kaia’s snapping jaws. Tiny hands, the size of a child’s, grabbed feebly at his blade as he pulled it free and stabbed at the next.
Brindani defended himself skillfully, cutting precise and strong; his quick blade was well stained with the blood of the beasts. Small fangs clamped down hard on Uthalion’s boot, needlelike teeth piercing the leather. It shook its jaws furiously. Snarling in pain, he stabbed down and pinned the kaia to the. ground. It opened its jaws long enough for him to escape and stomp the fight out of it. He kicked the beast into the fire where it writhed and screamed as the pair fended off the last of the braver kaia. The larger ones were dragged away by the smaller, ending their hunt without having to test the flashing steel and flames.
Slowly, they lowered their blades, watching as the kaia removed their dead, one generation feeding the next. Uthalion fell back to the fire, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the tiny body in the flames. Brindani remained standing, staring intently at the grisly scene. His hands no longer shook, and a flush of color had returned to his cheeks; his eyes were clear and focused.
“Feeling better?” Uthalion asked.
“Yes,” the half-elf replied casually, turning away from the feasting kaia. “Much better… Just needed some exercise I suppose.”
Uthalion nodded and stood, pacing to the spot where Brindani might have been eaten had he come alone. Fresh dirt had been dug up, leaving dimpled little holes in the ground, but no trace as to what had captured the half-elfs attention. Turning back east Uthalion noticed the pack over Brindani’s shoulder. He held it closein a tight grip, its side stained with dirty handprints.
They left the blazing circle of light in silence, careful to avoid the low stone walls where the kaia munched and fought over the flesh of their siblings in the dark. Uthalion kept Brindani in the lead, unwilling to turn his back on the secretive half-elf until he had discovered some answers. His thoughts were cut off by a series of low and distant howls drifting down from the high ground where only the tops of the Akanapeaks were visible to his human eyes.
Even from so far away, the dreamers’ voices carried a small amount of power, causing his pulse to quicken and his stomach to squirm uncomfortably.
“Let’s get back to the others,” he said. “There should be enough time for some rest before dawn. I’d like to be on our feet long before those things find us again.”
They jogged along the edge of the southern darkness. The cliff traced a fine line between solid ground and what looked like the end of the world, Uthalion eyed Brindani’s pack. A soldier’s instinct set off alarms in his gut, sensing yet another threat looming on an already dangerous journey.
“Little troubles,” he muttered under his breath. “They start out small, but they’re never pretty.”
The dreamers bounded down the hills, whining and howling to one another. Their sparse fur rustled in the
