that something might have been meddling with his thoughts, which troubled him and inspired his late night call. The nine youth searching for Lena arrived in Ilirea yesterday. He
fully expects that the trap he and the Shade devised will succeed in killing at least some of them. That is all I learned.
Bid'Daum was the sole occupant of the Vault of Souls who could sense anything beyond the mile of mountain between them and the surface. But he could only barely touch Tenga's mind from down here, and all of his effort whenever Tenga was on Vroengard was to discern whether he meant to threaten Lena and to keep him from accomplishing such a design.
"Bid'Daum," Nёya respectfully began, "what will we do if some of those nine youth make it here? Can you assist them at all? When will you start refusing to help Tenga?"
I must not withhold my help before that final confrontation occurs, Bid'Daum explained. Prior to that, such a decision would be premature. Tenga would then endeavor to make me
comply. He is a powerful magician, and even were I to attempt to thwart him or end his life, he has no doubt taken many precautions to protect himself.
Bid'Daum had only been able to threaten Lena's life because she had no skills with magic usage. Tenga, on the other hand, was an exceptional wizard whose wards no doubt
protected him from the simple method Bid'Daum had employed to restrict Lena's airflow. But he said nothing of this to the Caretakers, who were wholly unaware of his and Lena's
contract or that the dragon had nearly strangled her to death.
The dragon continued, I can only resist such compulsory measures to a certain extent without my flesh body. There is every likelihood that I could withstand him temporarily, but it
is not a risk I desire to take when a miscalculation or false sense of arrogance on my part would cost Lena's friends their success. When I finally do refuse to help, I will entirely
shut myself off. If Lena's friends are engaging Tenga, he will have no choice but to deal with them and will not be able to focus on me. Tenga will not be able to steal my vitality,
but nor will anyone else. If I were to open myself to assist any of Lena's friends, Tenga would also be free to continue borrowing my strength. Whenever that battle takes place, I must not be a part of it on either side. I hope her friends are prepared to face him on their own.
"I see," Nёya thoughtfully replied. "I hope so too. And I suppose we also ought not to be involved."
No, Bid'Daum sternly agreed. We cannot risk your lives. You both must stay out of harm's way until the Dragon Rider pact is reinstated. And since I will necessarily not be able to magically sustain your lives at that time, a prolonged magical effort would be foolhardy indeed. You might send yourselves to your graves.
"Is the spectral dragon still safely stored with you?" Iduna asked, referring to the iridescent dragon that had once been tattooed across her and Nёya's bodies as a physical
representation of the Dragon Rider pact.
He is safe, the white dragon confirmed. He will remain in my heart of hearts until the time comes for him to resume his more permanent position on your skin. Right now he is little more than a collection of colors and light, a memory of what was and what hopefully will once again be.
"Thank you for your efforts," Nёya intoned. "We are indebted to you."
Bid'Daum again refused to recognize her words. He was not acting out of a sense of altruism. And he fully expected any credit he accumulated to be rewarded by the terms of his
and Lena's agreement. He cared not for gratitude nor respect. In fact, he had almost come to prefer Lena's rash impertinence, though it had irked him so at first. At least it was
refreshing. And at least she had promised to do something to end his insufferable time in this accursed land. Passing into the void would indeed be a welcome escape. Until then,
Bid'Daum could keep up his own pretense for as long as needed. He was accustomed to waiting, and he had already existed for what would amount to hundreds of human lifetimes.
Yes, he would keep waiting and pretending and exerting himself only inasmuch as was necessary to fulfill the contract that would end his own life.
The nine youth did indeed leave Ilirea that same evening, after Ajh had recovered enough to stay in the saddle in front of Hanna. Though they were exhausted from the demands of
navigating the maze and confronting the Shade, they nonetheless rode long past nightfall.
Since their steeds could now graze on the abundant greenery accompanying an early spring after such a wet winter, they journeyed in a direct southwestern course from Ilirea
toward Frederick's village at the southeastern tip of the Spine. When they stopped that night, they were perhaps eighty miles outside of Ilirea. They had not pushed the horses at a
full gallop, but encouraged a swift pace for nearly four hours.
They pressed on at dawn after a few hours of deep sleep, riding hard along the Ramr River. The constant storms had in fact relented, and the biggest problem they foresaw in that
regard was running into flooding or deep mires as the unnatural snowfall began to melt. But the horses were more rested than their riders, and so the companions traveled until
their mounts also needed respite later that afternoon.
They decided their rushed beginning had distanced them enough from Ilirea that they might safely make camp for the evening, though everyone knew that Tenga could travel far
faster than they. But Brom continued his efforts of disguising their presence as they raced across the land, and all they could do was hope luck would continue favoring them.
After setting up camp and eating a filling meal, Brom sought out Will and asked if they could speak alone. Will readily consented, accompanying Brom as he walked away from the
circle of tents.
"What is it?" Will asked, studying his friend, who looked haggard from his ongoing magical exertions.
Brom passed a hand over his eyes before answering, "I've been thinking about something the Shade's shadow told us. She really did reveal more than either Tenga or Trianna would
have likely appreciated. She said something about Tenga being a powerful man, especially with his borrowed energy source. And then she said that the Shade coveted that power. I
have no doubt that she meant the Eldunarí Tenga had with him when he came to the Isle and took Lena."
"The Eldunarí that you think might have come from Bid'Daum, the first bonded dragon?" Will specified.
"That's right. And can you think where Tenga might leave such a valuable possession when he isn't carrying it around with him?"
"Easy," Will answered. "The Vault of Souls, especially since he's on Vroengard."
"Exactly what I thought. I have no idea what to expect once we get there, Will. Like you said a few days ago, we have to trust that Lena has figured out a way to stay in one place
and to keep Tenga from using that Eldunarí, or our time there will be short indeed. But if she has, I think there's a chance we will need to enter the Vault of Souls."
"Which one can only do by speaking their true name," Will stated, understanding what Brom was getting at.
"Yes. I know mine, Will. Do you know yours?"
"No. But I'll discover it."
Brom nodded. "We have time right now while we're traveling, but we may have little opportunity once we arrive. And if there's any chance that Lena will be in the Vault of Souls, I
know you would want to be able to immediately go in."
"You're right. Thank you, Brom. I'll learn my true name before then. You should get some good rest tonight. You need to be fully recovered before we get to Vroengard."
"I'll do my best, but Brin and I need to practice."
Will grinned, though it felt a bit rusty. "Whatever you say. Just take care of yourself."
They then went their separate ways.
Since they had camped so early the previous night, the group felt better rested the following morning. They star
ted on their way before dawn, intending to bypass Helgrind that day.
They deviated slightly east from their otherwise unerring course in order to give that dark landmark a wide berth.
By about midafternoon, they had slowed the horses to a walk. Brom continued riding, but Var, Will, Nefin, and Brin were trotting alongside to give some of their mounts a break.
Nefin abruptly stopped jogging and pulled Keeta's horse to a halt. Brom, we just walked into a trap.
Brom then communicated to the rest of their friends, Everyone stop. We've stumbled into some sort of camp. Or at least the outskirts. Sorry I didn't notice sooner. I'm focusing on
hiding us from magical detection, and I asked Nefin not to use his mind to scout the environment so as not to draw attention.
The others reined in their horses and looked around in confusion. Empty wasteland stretched away from them in every direction as far as the eye could see. Not even Helgrind's
peaks were visible on the western horizon.
But Nefin pointed at the large mounds of earth surrounding them at irregular intervals. Right then a flurry of movement demanded their attention, and the heaps of earth—which
were actually coverings the color of the landscape—flew away as two dozen ferocious warriors leaped out of hidden dens.
The horses snorted and skittered as the tall men howled wild war cries, brandishing long spears with leather tassels and collections of small animals' skulls and teeth dangling from
the ends. Their skin was as dark as Ajh's, though they were clad only in loin cloths. Elaborate painted patterns adorned their torsos and faces, and long knotted hair jutted from
their heads in carefully designed spikes.
Don't draw your weapons, Ajh muttered through the mental link Brom had created. They'll attack immediately. Right now they're only trying to intimidate us. These are warriors of
the Wandering Tribes.
Brin and the twins lowered their hands from their sword hilts. Nefin dropped his bow back to his shoulders.
So what do we do? he asked Ajh as the men surrounded them and closed the circle with what seemed rehearsed precision and timing, spears pointed toward them.
They want the horses, Brom shared.
So what do we do? Brin repeated. We could take them, but I don't feel like murdering in cold blood.
I agree, Brom said.
I'll speak with them, Ajh offered. And translate in your minds. Some no doubt know the common tongue, but they would probably pretend they didn't. My mother insisted Lena and I
learn the main dialect of the Wandering Tribes. Even if theirs is slightly different, they should still understand.
While speaking aloud in a strange language, Ajh mentally continued with words his friends would understand, Greetings noble warriors of the Wandering Tribes. My name is Ajihad. I
am son of Nasuada, high queen of Alagaёsia and daughter of Ajihad of the Wandering Tribes. We mean no harm as we pass through your lands. We are but humble travelers.
The men stopped their advance, glancing at one another in surprise and confusion. Eventually their eyes settled on one man, the tallest and broadest, who must have been their
chief. His muscled forearms sported a motley collection of long scars, evidence of many triumphs in the Trial of the Long Knives.
Ajh translated as the chieftain shouted, "Humble travelers? And where did you get these fine horses? Our clan was robbed of a dozen handsome steeds some weeks ago, and these
animals are clearly of Wandering Tribe stock."
"We earned them in a fair trade with a man who lives near the Spine," Ajh replied, ever interpreting. "We did not steal them."
"But perhaps you acquired them from the ruffians who raided my tribe," the warrior suggested. "Come with us. We will fight if you attack."
Brom? Ajh asked. Should we fight and get away or go with them?
Let's just go with them, Brom wearily advised. I'm too tired to magically influence a peaceful outcome, and I don't want to kill these men. They have wives and families. The hard
times are affecting them, same as everywhere else. He's telling the truth about the raid. We'll slip away tonight.
So the nine allowed themselves to be led away between the two dozen warriors, who guided them toward a well disguised camp in a nearby copse of sparse scrub and trees.
Women and children peered out from behind lowered tent flaps, curious about the capture and arrival of such a varied group.
All of the nine submitted to the confiscation of their packs, weapons, and pouches. But their captors each departed in different directions with these items, and the friends began to
worry that reacquiring their belongings before they attempted to escape would be harder than they thought.
My potions, Hanna worried. Brom, the belt! We have to get those things back!
We will, Brom reassured.
What about the horses? Zadí queried. Will they be safe?
Yes, but the men mean to ride them far from here so we won't have easy access to them. They suspect from the quality of our weapons that we are formidable fighters.
We need the horses, Will insisted. We were actually making good time for a change. Was this the best idea, Brom?
Would you have preferred to cut down over twenty men in cold blood? Brom challenged. Left the same number of widows and even more fatherless children? We can still get away.
And we'll call the horses back to us. They recognize my mind, as well as Zadí's, Nefin's, and Hanna's. I think we'll be relatively safe from Tenga—if he's even looking for us—hidden
here with these people, so I'll just pause my other efforts and try to rest a little until late tonight. I'm sure we'll be heavily guarded, but Hanna, Nefin, or I can easily cause anyone watching over us to fall asleep.
The Wandering Tribe warriors bound the prisoners and sat them in a clump near a communal bonfire.
Doesn't anyone recognize you, Ajh? Var asked at one point. Does your heritage or royal status make any difference to them? They answer to your mother as high queen, don't they?
My grandfather left his native people decades ago, Ajh replied. Probably close to fifty years. There are so many clans and they're so spread out that it would be ridiculous to expect
them all to know the name Ajihad. And while the tribes do respect my mother as sovereign of Alagaёsia, they still have their individual chiefs who govern the affairs of their own
community. The Wandering Tribes are less involved in the politics of the land. Some of the younger people might recognize me, since I know some attended the Human Choosing
Ceremony last summer, but I don't know what good that would do us.
The evening passed slowly and dully for the nine friends. Their guards did not offer them dinner, and all of them were impatient for the chance to escape without inflicting injury.
That seven former Dragon Riders, two of whom could still use magic, were allowing themselves to be held hostage was ridiculous indeed. If only these nomads knew the importance
of their captives' quest!
As night fell, the tribe gathered for what seemed an important ritual. Several men carried large rawhide drums on leather straps around their shoulders. They lined up in a row to
one side of the bonfire, followed by a sting of young women dressed in colorful tribal costumes. The latter encircled the fire and joined hands to form an unbroken chain.
The men began to pound the drums in slow unison, deep thumps that echoed through the darkening night. After the first three strikes, the young women struck a pose, clapping
their hands in the air. With each subsequent beat, the girls assumed a new posture.
This must be the Drum Dance, Ajh guessed. I've never seen it, but it is a traditional dance performed by the tribe's young women to win favor from their gods. I doubt they are
performing it in our honor.
No, Brom verified, they are dancing to protect their tribe from the evil sweeping the land,
of which they believe we are a part. Ironic, when capturing us directly interferes with what they want.
It's a pretty dance, Zadí commented. But I'm so hungry I feel like I'm going to pass out. And thirsty. Do you think they would give me food if we told them I'm expecting?
Var looked at his wife in concern. They weren't sitting by one another, and his worry was obviously intense.
I'll ask after the ritual is over, Ajh promised. I doubt they would interrupt it now that it has started.
With nothing else to do, they watched the Drum Dance proceed. The drummers' rhythm gradually increased with every passing moment, as did the dancers' pace. Each new position
soon bled into the previous. Before long their hands and feet were whirling, the beads on their costumes clacking a rapid accompaniment.
At last, when the dancers were twirling so wildly that they seemed actually to be flailing, the drummers smacked their drums with both hands and left them there, stilling the
reverberations. But the echoes bounced through the darkness for several moments longer.
Then the men carrying drums silently filed away and the dancing girls slowly straightened from their final stance, chests heaving from the vigorous exercise and sweat glistening on
their ebony skin. They turned as one and also began to retreat, followed by the remaining members of their clan. Only those assigned to watch the nine youth stayed behind to
fulfill their duty.
Translating for his friends, Ajh asked the nearest warrior, "Sir, one of my friends is expecting and she is very hungry and thirsty. May we have some food and drink for her?"
The man contemptuously looked down at Ajh, over at his companions, then around the small circle of prisoners, his eyes lingering on each of the females. He once again glanced at
the other guards, now with a lewd grin twisting his features. The others returned the distasteful expression in like manner, and four of the nine men walked over to stand behind
each of the girls.
"No, you won't be doing that," Brom quietly remarked in the common tongue. "If you try, we will kill you. I know you understand me. We haven't fought because you haven't, but
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