by Katy Winter
"No!" he cried, stumbling back. "No, Sar, no! Don't hand me over to them!" Sarehl met the stunned looks of the healers.
"Lian, these are my friends. They wouldn't hurt you, I promise you." Lian's anguish found release in a cry of unutterable despair. He helplessly sank to the chair. "What is it?" Sarehl asked, stooping to the younger man.
"They're the same. Ah the gods, Sar, they'll let him come."
Sarehl noticed the healers looked as shaken as he imagined he did.
"They may look the same but they aren't, Lian. Believe me. They've been with us a long time, and it was Kaleb who saved my life. Didn't you know the names of those who took you away?"
Lian shrank from the healers as they came closer and his free hand was up to ward them off. They could see that, even in his distressed state he tried to think, so they stood still.
"I think one answered to Lokar," Lian managed, after a prolonged silence. Sarehl saw the healers stare blindly at each other, shock etched on Kaleb's face and his mouth drawn tight. "Yes," repeated Lian. "Yes, it was Lokar."
"Who was Lokar?" Sarehl asked sharply.
"He is a Post-Level Four close to the Mishtok," whispered Leon, his cheeks as white as Lian's. Kaleb had turned away.
"And the other, Lian? Can you -?" Lian cut Sarehl short, his voice quite clear.
"Jaden. The name was Jaden."
"Oh gods," said Kaleb distinctly behind Sarehl who swung round, his hand going to Kaleb's arm.
"We have some discussion due, my friend, haven't we?" Kaleb nodded, then turned calmly to Lian.
"I'm Kaleb, lad, and behind me is Leon. We promise we won't hurt you or do anything to you that you'd dislike or would frighten you."
Sarehl saw precipitate flight in Lian's eyes and stance. He stood directly behind his brother as he watched Kaleb advance. Kaleb saw naked fear in Lian, but he still approached. When his hand touched Lian's, the young man began to sweat, his eyes were wild and alienated and a desolate cry came from deep within.
"You won't be hurt, lad, I promise you," whispered Kaleb.
Lian couldn't respond and didn't seem to notice the gentle touch on his forehead. Leon was beside him, when he slumped limply into waiting arms.
~~~
Kaleb and Leon stood together looking down at the relaxed and sleeping form of Lian, the young man curled up naturally with one hand under a cheek, his long hair falling about him and furs drawn up closely about him.
The healers both appeared remarkably grim, no warmth in the faces of either man. Their discussion was long, intense and serious. Now they were silent. They stayed that way until Leon spoke.
"We mustn't touch this young man's mind again, Kaleb."
"No," acquiesced Kaleb throatily. "Is there any more we must know?"
"We know all that's needful for the moment." Leon's voice was implacably hard and cold.
"Will he ever be able to respond to us after what's been done to him?"
"Perhaps," shrugged Leon, his eyes going back to the youthful face in repose.
"And Sarehl? What must he know?"
"Only what we've discussed, Kaleb." Leon scratched at his beard. "We have answers that've eluded us for cycles, but still no answer as to why this young man was part of a deep and terrifying scheme. That he was used so abominably suggests the possible fates planned for the brothers, doesn't it?" Kaleb couldn't repress a shiver.
"Gods," he mumbled. "And for Myme Chlo."
"You know who you've seen in this boy's mind, Level Four, don't you?" White-lipped, Kaleb glanced at his senior.
"I know," he responded simply.
"Then you know what Ambros confronts," was the curt reply. "What we must try to discover is how and why Sarehl and his family are involved. That's a riddle."
"A dragon," said Kaleb musingly. "It's too fantastic!" Leon's look at him was affectionate.
"Perhaps," he said again, enigmatically. "I don't find that strange at all." Then his expression hardened. "You'll work with Lian, Kaleb. Take him very carefully or his mind could finally break. It's miraculous it hasn't already."
"I'll take care, Seignore, that I promise you. He's little Brue's brother after all."
"Quite," said Leon, quietly leaving the healer's pavilion.
Kaleb sat beside the bed, his gaze drawn to the pale face. He knew another part of the puzzle had arrived. It made him profoundly thoughtful while, unknown to him, Leon left for his tent to send to the Mishtok.
Ambrosian Chronicles,
Third Age,
12214
Our Archmage still comes and goes between Yarilo and Ambros. Our senior mage, Autoc, is resident on Yarilo for the moment but expects to be called at any time.
We are trying to track Malekim. We suspect he will move from the south soon. His apprentice already moves. The Watchers have told us things about the young man that both concern and hearten us. We watch him closely so we can attempt to evaluate how he may behave.
The mage's henchman, Queeb, followed Autoc and Myme Chlo until they disappeared into the Shadowlands. He's now been in touch with the Warlord.
Myme Chlo, known as Chlorien, is with a Rox. Sarehl, the eldest brother, is now reunited with the northern army. The siblings appear to be gathering in the north of Ambros.
CHAPTER TWO
This late afternoon Nikos relaxed back against the cavern wall with pipes to his mouth and Chlorien lounged at his feet sideways, propped up on one elbow, her chin rested in her hands. She was thinking of Bethel. Then she turned her head. Nikos stared into the fire but he felt Chlorien's regard. His glance came to rest on her.
She'd partly turned and stared up at him in a way he hoped one day she would. He put his pipes on the ground, leaned forward and gathered Chlorien in his arms, lying her gently across his lap. She was completely relaxed as his hand stroked her cheek, then when his hands moved across to quietly slip under the furs and unbutton her shirt, she gave only the faintest shiver. When his hands touched her skin she gave a contented sigh, her hands touching his.
"You're ready, aren't you, little one?" Nikos crooned, the oddest light in his unusual eyes. Chlorien tilted her head, her violet eyes large and trusting as Nikos twisted his fingers through her curls, his eyes intense as they met hers. "You asked me once why our sources joined. Do you remember?"
"I remember," she murmured.
"Do you need an answer?"
"No, I understand. I'm content it's meant so."
"Are you ready for me, little one?"
Chlorien's gaze didn't falter. She nodded, the message in her eyes unmistakable. Nikos bent his head and their lips met.
The first time their mating was very gentle. Nikos, staring down into huge and awed violet eyes, held back. The next time he didn't, his passion as he called to her, urging her to let herself go free with him almost overwhelming her. She let herself respond. She was, for that moment, fully Rox. Later, Chlorien stared up at Nikos, her mouth parting in surprise. He laughed down at her, tickled her one minute then caressed her the next.
"Nikos," she breathed. "Nikos."
"Chlorien," he mimicked on a chuckle. "Chlorien."
"I do understand," she whispered, pulling his head down. "I do."
"Ah, child," he murmured in her ear. "I've waited for you for so very long."
~~~
Throughout the rest of their stay in the cavern they continued their intimacy. Nikos tried to explain to Chlorien what a Rox's love for his mate meant. He soon realised the concept he spoke of was beyond her comprehension, that she was bewildered by its complexity and depth, though she loved him in return. He quietly accepted the limitations of his love's understanding. He knew, with sad acceptance of fate, that in time she'd come to a realisation of how profound and fathomless a Rox's love was and Nikos felt a twist inside him at that as he let the thought drift away. At this moment, Nikos was content; Chlorien was happy.
By the time the weather showed real signs of
improvement and they were ready to move again, Chlorien was pregnant. She knew at the exact moment Nikos did, their eyes meeting and both smiling, acceptance and pleasure in the violet eyes and delight and pride in the coppery ones. They knew, too, that it was a son who called himself Kasphros. They awaited his arrival with anticipation.
Their progress across the Shadowlands was faster than it was over autumn and early winter. Chlorien never asked where they were going. She just followed. Her confinement slowed them little to begin with, but by the time they passed through spring to summer Chlorien had noticeably slowed. She found the seasons ones of extremes, summer as hot in the north as the winter was frigid. Though she found it difficult she didn't complain, a calmness touching her expression as she stared thoughtfully ahead. Nikos took gentle and loving care of her so she wanted for nothing, contentment with his company evident from her reactions to him. By late summer Chlorien was unable to travel far by day and by early autumn Kasphros had come to term.
He was born in the very north of the Shadowlands, his birth easy even though he was a large and long child and his mother was up and about very quickly. Kasphros was born with a thick head of copper curls that were streaked with black, his eyes the unusual dark copper-flecked eyes of his father. It seemed he was every bit a Rox. He mindspoke his parents from conception, was deeply curious and made his preferences very clear. For one so talented he was quiet, responsive and quite undemanding, though he loved to rollick as a Rox cub and indulge in mock battles with a father who clearly adored him.
Their travel speed increased three weeks after Kasphros was born. They left the far west some time before. They by-passed the southern kingdom of Kyaran and the Elban princedoms, and, by the beginning of another northern winter, were many miles further towards Floronderiel in the Shadowlands and well north of the warlord who circled his army north around Lake Imaq.
At the same time Ensore marched his northern army from the Bay of Coldth towards the Chasa mountains. Nikos knew exactly what occurred south of them but he never spoke of it and Chlorien, for her part, didn't ask. She just knew Nikos was intent on getting both herself and Kasphros to safety before another winter took hold and the land became a frozen waste. What she did notice was Kasphros' unawareness of the cold - just like his father, she thought with a wistful sigh as she shivered.
~~~
Sophos Rox's ears pricked forward slightly and his dark eyes opened instantly. He lifted the crystal that rested on his chest in one huge paw, looking down deeply into it. It felt oddly cool so he continued to stare at it, all his concentration on the one object. Then he felt it. A sense of delight and exultation touched his mind and made him rear up his head, incredulous pleasure lighting eyes that had looked saddened and sombre for cycles. The long and delicate hair in and around his ears began to quiver with response.
Sophos Rox broadcast on a wide band to the Yarilan mages, the other Guardians and also to the dragons, with the result that a bewildering collection of voices surged into the ancient Rox's mind. He quietly sorted them. He blocked them, one by one, until he had one mind left melded with his to whom he projected the image he'd received. It was the image of a Rox and a girl, still clad as a boy, but in her arms rested a very newly born child. As quickly as the image was sent it was snapped closed, a voice coming clearly to Sophos Rox.
"Sophos."
"Lektos." Both Rox came into focus in the other's mind. Sophos had seen more sorrow than joy in his brother's eyes over the last Ambrosian cycles but now he saw joy in the almost black eyes. "It's occurred," he said quietly.
"The boy's born." Sophos noticed that Lektos seemed to breathe more easily. "A child of the Rox, Sophos, of a mother both Rox and dragon marked."
"Yes, brother. As you say, a child of the Rox, from an unusual union. It changes so much we've accepted for so long. What happens to him now?"
"He comes to Lilium in time. It's his destiny - you know that."
"Indeed," agreed Sophos, passive resignation mixed with sadness in his voice.
"I deeply grieve for you about what may come, brother. You know that, too."
"Yes," responded Sophos. He paused, then added, "And the other girl?"
Lektos raised a paw. "She's reached the Shadowlands, but only just. She's frail. She's in the eastern Shadowlands with her child, while Chlorien's further west but edging closer every day. We now have the children of dark and light, who are the offspring of dark and light themselves. They move to what we hope is more safety."
"The child who is of all things and is also the daughter of Malekim. The brother Luton who is made a child of the dark," murmured Sophos.
"From them we have a son and a daughter," agreed Lektos. "Ochleos heard and saw truly."
"It's too early to say," cautioned Sophos, rubbing absently on the crystal which felt warm against his hand. "Has Bene left Yarilo?"
"Yes, he left over an Ambrosian cycle ago. You've been preoccupied, brother, so I didn't disturb you to advise you of it."
"And the mage Autoc?"
"He's on Yarilo until shortly."
"There's an unusual one of exceptional talent, Lektos," said Sophos pensively. "I didn't know that when he was young. He should have come to Lilium as I wanted. He's important to me."
"Maybe it wasn't meant to be, Sophos. I know what he means to you and he's helped control much of the damage," conceded Lektos. "I watch him with interest and not just for that reason either. You understand why."
"And Malekim?"
Sophos bared his teeth as he spoke. His brother didn't miss the flare of grief that touched the Rox's dark eyes, even if only fleetingly, when either Nikos or Autoc was spoken of. Lektos responded with a deep growl.
"He stirs. As we know to our cost he's as much part of the future as are the others. I wish it wasn't so. His actions can still tip and threaten the balance. We must still be vigilant."
"Where is he?"
"Still in the south."
"And his apprentice?"
"He moves steadily north and is no longer mute."
"He's an unknown, isn't he?"
"Obli doesn't seem to think so." Sophos looked thoughtful.
"He's said no more than that to you, too?"
"No," answered Lektos. "We're still left with imponderables, brother."
"We are," agreed Sophos. "Action and reaction. But the birth of the boy's a blessing."
"What's his name, Sophos?" Sophos gave a chuckle.
"He calls himself Kasphros." Lektos gave a deep sigh of approval.
"Meaning child of all worlds - how appropriate. Did Nikos choose his name?"
"I think," responded Sophos wryly, "the boy may have chosen it himself. He's very young to be so acutely aware. Things move as they must, but the children are young yet and not ready."
Sophos felt Lektos' amusement in concert with his own as his brother's image dwindled.
~~~
It was still very early winter in the Shadowlands. Chlorien woke one morning, stiff and feeling a little chilled, her hands fumbling as she lifted Kasphros into her arms so she could feed him. His peevish thought woke her only moments before. He was hungry. Hurriedly she arranged him so he could suckle in comfort, only then becoming aware, when she raised her head, that forms moved noiselessly but restlessly from tree to tree not far from her. Chlorien's breath spiralled in small puffs in a nippy frosty air and she held the little boy very close, protectively. He kept drinking avidly and had no energy to spare for anything else.
"Nikos," whispered Chlorien urgently, sensing immediately that he was close.
"I'm here, child," he said behind her, a hand going to her shoulder reassuringly. "They've been with us for over a cycle now, little one, and mean us no harm. Be at ease. They wish to be seen."
Nikos took a disgruntled Kasphros in his arms and translated to a Rox, a cub held firmly in the front paws, before he translated back to Ambrosian form. A voice near them spoke calmly.
"We acknowledge you, Rox. You're welcome as are all
your kind. We've been with you for some seasons. Sophos Rox told us of your coming: you're Nikos."
Chlorien jumped at the voice so near and edged closer to Nikos, her gaze at the speaker both apprehensive and curious. The man was slender and seemed insubstantial, his auburn hair hanging loose across his shoulders and spilling down to his waist. She couldn't see his eyes though she suspected they were almost transparent, perhaps the palest of grays. The man looked at her, his eyes crystalline and limpid.
"Though you're clad as a boy you aren't so and answer to Myme Chlo. It pleases us you birthed with such ease. The child's name is Kasphros, isn't it?" Chlorien drew in her breath but Nikos began to softly laugh.
"Yes, that's so, though my mate answers now to Chlorien, a name she prefers and has become used to." The stranger stared thoughtfully at Chlorien, then gave a quaint formal bow.
"Of course. The mage gave you that name, didn't he?" His eyes ran over her again, then flickered briefly to the Rox.
"Yes," agreed Chlorien uncomfortably.
"In memory, no doubt, of your illustrious ancestor," came the polite comment. Chlorien glanced helplessly at Nikos.
"She knows nothing of that, Istarial," answered Nikos. The man turned his head to scrutinise the Rox.
"Doesn't she? Then indeed she has much to learn. Is the catlin to accompany us as well or will it continue to come and go?"
"As catlins will," chuckled Nikos.
"Is it yours, girl?" Chlorien's expression was baffled though Nikos' thought in her mind dispelled it. She sensed he was highly amused.
"Istarial," he said, waiting for the man to face him, his head tilted interrogatively. "A word with you alone."
Istarial inclined his head courteously and followed Nikos who moved to his left. There was no mirth in the coppery eyes that met those of the Shadowlander.
"Istarial, the girl's experienced much, but there are things she doesn't know and shouldn't discover until the appropriate time. Let haste not be a cause of hurt or harm to her as we come to your people. Indariol expects her and has been told much. He knows she mustn't be frightened. It could undo much that's been achieved with love and patience. She's but a child still." Istarial stared hard at Nikos for a long moment, then spoke quietly.