The Dreamweaver robes Emerahl had stolen were a bit big for her, but they had kept her sufficiently safe from priestly notice while she tended the sick. She had kept to the Pentadrian side of the battleground, which reduced the number of Circlians she treated. There had been no sign of the White for hours. They were probably discussing the battle among their allies.
She had no bag of medicines, but managed well enough with magic. It was satisfying work. She hadn’t been free to use her Gifts in this way for... a long time. Just before dawn she had decided it was time to leave, but at the edge of the battlefield she had discovered a Siyee still clinging to life and stopped to help him.
By the time she had finished, the sun had risen. Delicate light filled the valley. She had wanted to leave the field when it was still dark, but it shouldn’t matter if anyone saw her go. The Dreamweavers might wonder why one of their kind was abandoning the field, but they were probably too involved in their work to notice. No one else would know enough about Dreamweavers to wonder why she was leaving.
She glanced around. Only one Dreamweaver stood nearby, his back to her. He was looking up at the sky. She frowned. There was something familiar about him. Perhaps he was one of the Dreamweavers from the group she had run into.
A voice reached her, low and strained. She moved closer and felt a shiver run down her back.
But it could not belong to the man she had known. What was he saying, anyway? She stepped over a corpse and crept closer.
“- must go. No. She can help. No. She will only make it worse. I can’t—”
The voice changed from high to low, weak to forceful, stranger to familiar. He was ranting at himself like a madman. As he cast about he turned to face her and she gasped.
“Mirar!”
It was impossible. He was dead. But as she said his name his gaze cleared and she saw recognition in his eyes.
“Emerahl?”
“You’re... you’re...”
“Alive? In a way.” He shrugged, then his gaze became keen. “What are
She smiled crookedly. “Long story.”
“Will you... can you help me?”
“Of course. What do you need?”
“I need you to take me away from here. No matter who I turn into. No matter how I protest. Using all your magic, if you need to.”
She stared at him. “Why would I have to do that?”
He grimaced. “Long story.”
She nodded, then closed the distance between them. He had aged. She had never seen him so thin and wrinkled. His hair was so light it was nearly white, and she could see from the untanned skin around his jaw that he had only recently removed a beard. If it weren’t for the recognition in his eyes, and the little mannerisms she had once known so well, she might not have recognized him at all. But here he was, changed but alive. She would ponder the impossibility of this later.
Taking his arm, she led him away.
Auraya walked the battlefield.
Around her were twisted bodies. The pale, staring eyes of the dead filled her with horror. She was afraid to look into them, yet she could not stop herself. Blue lips opened and rasping voices pleaded for life. She tore her gaze away only to be caught by another corpse ranting at her. Accusing.
She hurried away, but the sea of corpses was endless. They lay thick on the ground. She had to step over them. They tried to grab her ankles.
“We had to fight! We had to!” she protested. “You know that!”
Ahead she could see a light. Suddenly she was standing before it. A table and two stools had been set in a gap between the bodies. On the table was a game of counters - a game already begun. The set was beautifully made of black and white veinstone.
The corpses had fallen silent. She stepped over the last of them and looked down at the board. The two sides were caught in stalemate. No wonder they had abandoned the game.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. She felt a stab of pain as she recognized him.
He looked at her searchingly, then down at the board.
“What an interesting dream you’re having. Why did you feel the need for me to join you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you here.”
“You called me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
She glared at him. “Why did you answer then? I thought you preferred whores.”
He blinked in surprise. “So you know about that?”
“Yes.”
He looked thoughtful. “Probably just as well. You won’t be tempted to look for me.”
She felt a stab of hurt. “Oh, there’s no chance of that now.”
“You might find this hard to believe, but I didn’t want to hurt you. My people were in danger. Leiard’s weak and humble nature was meant to protect us, not lead us into danger.” He looked down at the board. “There are five white pieces and five black left. Which side do you want to take?”
She looked at the board. “White, of course.”
“Then you have won.”
One of the pieces had changed. It had been engraved with a gold circle, representing a priest, which made it a stronger piece than it had been.
“What happened? That’s not how it was before.”
Leiard smiled. “No?”
“Why did it change?”
“I don’t know. This is your dream, Auraya of the White, and I want no part of it. Goodbye.”
She looked up.
VEHICLES
PLANTS
