OoOoO

A deadly lull filled The Lair; a temporary pause in what had previously been fierce fighting between the Stargazers and the city guards. Now, with scarcely more than a dozen Stargazers left besides Kiiss's family, the odds were truly turned against Vinie and Gideo. They stood, skin blistering with burns, lungs filled with smoke, staring hopelessly out into the encircling mass of soldiers. Three hundred men at least, all in shining plate armour, their gleaming swords and shields as implacable as an executioner's mask.

Up in the royal viewing box, where the last of the Stargazers in the stands had just been killed, King Mahir straightened his ornate, blood-spattered breastplate. The royal crown insignia - embossed in steel over Mahir's heart - gleamed as red as the rubies in the actual crown upon his head. Behind Mahir, the surviving members of Goran's Magicol looked on, some with satisfaction, others with dread. Prince Hithon, trembling and pale, reached out a hand toward his father's turned back...and then slowly withdrew it. The king was speaking.

"This ends now...no more talk or theatrics. Guards!"

The ring of soldiers surrounding Vinie, Gideo, and the Stargazers acknowledged Mahir's unspoken command with a clang of swords against shields. The sound echoed like the toll of a death knell in the now-empty arena.

"Stay behind us," Ekene muttered to Ijireen, who stood empty-handed in their midst.

Ijireen's red eyes narrowed, staring down the advancing wall of soldiers. Then they flared bright with magic.

"No," she said, pushing forward to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the grown men and women around her.

To Vinie, the moment felt unreal, as if it were playing out in a dream. The pain of her burns...the scrape of armour as three hundred soldiers closed in...Anuli StarGazer lying dead nearby, her blood soaking red into the white sand.

A white-hot spike of pain up her arm brought Vinie back to herself. Looking down, she realized that Gideo was holding her hand, their reddened, swollen fingers scarcely able to fit together. The two of them gazed at one another, wordlessly sharing a lifetime's worth of regret, unrealized dreams, and love.

BOOOOOM

From the sky above, a clap of thunder so loud it could be felt in everyone's bones shook the stadium. With so much happening on the ground, no one had spared a moment to look up. If they had, they would have seen the sky over Amenthere curdling, filling with a swirling spiral of gray-green clouds as dark and angry as the fiercest sea.

BOOOOOM

Again, thunder shook The Lair, louder than any landslide in The Teeth. The commanding officers of the royal guard paused, many stopping in mid-advance to peer uncertainly up at the sky. In the royal box, even Mahir looked up, eyes narrowed fiercely against the first drops of falling rain.

"What is this?" Mahir glanced back over one shoulder at Arzai. "This is no natural storm."

And indeed it was not. Lighting illuminated the swirling maelstrom of clouds, for a split-second casting every face below in stark contrast of dark and light. Rain was beginning to fall faster now, clattering down as hard and cold as ice. Stargazers and soldiers alike stood transfixed, mouths hanging open as another bolt of lightning turned the sky an aquatic greenish-black. Moving like dream-walkers, the Obads came to stand beside Mahir at the balcony rail, staring. All were bathed in the angry glow of the heavens.

BOOOOOOM

Another crash of thunder, and this time lightning followed immediately after. Straight from the heart of the storm, the bolt struck one of the stone dragons perched atop the upper rim of The Lair directly at its base. Carven wings did nothing to keep the dragon aloft, and with an earsplitting crack it pitched forward. Directly beneath the falling behemoth, those in the royal box had nowhere to run.

"Father!" Hithon cried. Brand screamed and clutched at Roran's arm. Mahir's hand flew to the hilt of his sword, but in a rare moment of humility even he knew that he was powerless to do anything. Even Arzai and Frandel, for all their deadly, fearsome magic, could not stop the plummeting twenty-foot statue.

A sudden burst of clear, white light filled the royal box. Feet planted firm, magic's glow pouring from his eyes, Davenir raised his arms to the heavens as if he meant to catch the falling dragon. Wind roared in the Magicol's ears, pulling Arzai's long hair from its plait and knocking the crown from Mahir's head. Davenir stood fast against the storm, fully aware and free from the confines of the Obads' casting trance at last.

With mere meters to impact, the statue's fall abruptly slowed. Cradled in a net woven from the force of hurricanes, it hovered, a dark, ominous shape against the sea-green sky. Davenir's slender hands trembled with effort, but his expression remained calm, barely flinching at the icy rain pelting him. Slowly, deliberately, Davenir changed his stance, and the hovering statue moved with him. When the dragon was no longer above the royal box, Davenir flexed his hands slightly, as if lightly pushing. With a crash that could be heard even over the continuous rumble of thunder, the stature hurtled into the empty stands where it shattered into a thousand chunks of rain-slicked granite.

His spell complete, the Grey Obad staggered sideways against the balcony rail. Frandel was quick to dart forward and catch him. With the storm's intensity escalating even further, they had no choice but to seek shelter in the viewing box's covered back.

"What is this??" demanded Mahir once more, Hithon clinging to his arm. This time, there was a small flicker of fear in the king's voice as he looked to Arzai.

Her dark hair plastered down her neck and back in a dripping curtain, eyes wide, Arzai gazed up into the storm. Tendrils of black were beginning to spiral outward in the clouds, veil-like, from the center of the vortex. The heavy gold ring of the High Obad sat cold and useless, mere jewelry on her finger. Never before had Mahir seen Arzai so openly awed.

"This..." she said "...is a melding of magics. Two Obads...two elements...one spell."

"Impossible!" shouted Mahir over the howling of the storm. "There are no other Obads! And none could be this powerful!"

Softly, still staring up at the sky, Arzai whispered;

"Couldn't she?"

OoOoO

Far away from Amenthere, in a chamber where bright waters reflected off dark walls, four people sat cross-legged in a circle. Three were barely more than children, yet they sat with the straight backs and sober faces of those who carried the heavy weight of responsibility on their shoulders. Each rested their hands on the knees of those sitting on either side, eyes closed, a single wordless tone buzzing from between their slack lips. Separately, the droning of each child sounded like nothing, like the buzz of a lone beehive. Together, their voices blended – the high, clear note of a young girl, the deeper, steady timber of an older boy, the in-between tones of a youth whose voice was only just breaking – into an eerie sort of harmony.

All of the young people seated in the circle wore long, wide-sleeved robes in shades of pale blue and grey. To one side watching stood two others, of a similar age and clad in muted green and red. The two silent observers had eyes only for the fourth member of the circle; a woman robed in deepest blue.

Her voice ran like a guiding undercurrent below the voices of the three youths sitting around her, ringing as endless and pure as the tolling of a bell in that dark, echoing chamber. Whether her eyes were closed or not, neither of the two observers could tell; over the upper half of her face she wore a mask of sculpted silver. Eyes had been painted onto the mask in place of her own, one black and flat as a marble, the other pearlescent white. The woman did not need sight though to lead the others in their growing spell.

As they droned, the waters in the bright pool before them shifted and swirled. Then they darkened, turning from clear blue to a moody grey-green. A roiling vortex churned to life in the pool, and the two observers thought they heard the distant roll of thunder. They glanced briefly at one another, then back at the woman. What she saw behind her painted metal eyes, no one knew, but the visions of the All-Seer would guide the paths of many in the days to come.

OoOoO

On the floor of The Lair, Vinie, Gideo, and the Stargazers struggled to stay on their feet amidst the storm's fury. The winds were so strong, pieces of the shattered stone dragon began to stir from where they lay amidst the stands. Some of the smaller boulders even came tumbling down onto the ground, endangering the half-blind, disorganized royal soldiers. Overhead, lightning continued to strike, highlighting black streaks spreading outward through the swirling clouds. Thunder boomed again and again, so loudly that it brought some of the soldiers to their knees, clutching their ears. The rain poured downward in a torrent, a thousand shards of near-solid ice that dented armor and scratched exposed skin.

Strangely though, despite the tempest's ferocity, the Stargazers found they were not as besieged by it as the royal soldiers. It seemed, in fact, that the center of The Lair was becoming something of an oasis of calm. All around them, soldiers desperately sought shelter, some huddling under their dented shields, and others flattening themselves along the arena walls and gates. No one could hear the orders of their commanding officers, even if said officers were able to collect their own thoughts enough to give orders at the moment.

"The gate!" Ekene shouted, pointing through the vortex of sleet toward the vague outline of The Lair's main entrance. "Now's our chance!"

"Come on!" cried Dalar to Vinie, cupping her hands to be heard over the newest clap of thunder.

Vinie nodded. "Gideo! Let's go!" She turned to him, but found her husband staring in the opposite direction, wide-eyed, face grey. "Gideo!"

"I see them..."

"What?? See wh-"

As soon as Vinie followed Gideo's gaze, she understood and was likewise stunned.

"Zaneo! Sahar!"

At first they were only shadows; vague silhouettes walking through the swirling maelstrom. They weren't alone either. One by one, dozens...hundreds of people took shape in the storm, not fully flesh-and-blood, but not a dream either. Compared to the soldiers – dark forms running to and fro in bewildered chaos – these new arrivals seemed somehow foggy, indistinct, their edges blurring with the wind and the rain around them. Vinie recognized Dhalad, killed in the Uprising at Utunma, along with many, many others. Wasani, the executed shaman of Utunma was there, as were Kor and Irem, Zaneo's parents. Vinie even thought she glimpsed a pale, doll-like face surrounded by a nimbus of cornsilk hair...the same figure who had led her to Jath in the Forest of Latharan two years ago.

"Zaneo! Wait!"

Vinie and Gideo both staggered forward, arms outstretched, reaching for the spirits of the dead.

"What are you doing!? Someone grab them!" Ekene yelled behind them. Neither Vinie nor Gideo looked back. Shuffling on scorched legs, heedless to anything but the faces before them, they rushed toward the vortex of the storm.

"NO."

As Vinie and Gideo approached, Zaneo suddenly came to the forefront of the gathered dead. His face changed, and his eyes filled with blue light. Zaneo seemed to take on size and power, and around him the storm surged. Vinie and Gideo were forced to stop, shielding their eyes from a barrage of stinging ice even as Okoreo and Dalar caught hold of them and pulled them back.

"You are not dead yet!" Zaneo's voice rang out even over the thunder in Vinie and Gideo's mind. There was a strange hiss behind his words, like the sizzle of cold water on a hot stone and the warning of an angered snake. His blue eyes narrowed and gleamed, brighter than two stars on a stormy night. "Break the chain. Only then will they be free. Live, and fight."

"Zaneo!" Vinie screamed, fighting with all her might against Dalar's hold on her. Okoreo could barely keep Gideo contained, despite Gideo's weakened condition. "Sahar!"

"My boys, Vinie! They need you! We need you!" cried out Sahar, her words sounding faint and indistinct after Zaneo's booming command. "Don't give up!"

Zaneo spoke once more. The silhouettes of the dead grew fainter and fainter behind him, as he himself seemed to become more substantial. His dark skin, slicked with rain, gleamed almost blue-black. His voice roared like waves in Vinie and Gideo's minds.

"Break the chain. Kill the king. The line of Amenthis must end."

A spike of lightning split the sky, turning everything to white. By the time Vinie's sight cleared, Zaneo was gone, as were the spirits of the dead. Dalar and Okoreo continued to drag the two of them back toward the group huddled in the center of The Lair. The young Ovate stood in the middle of the group, a ball of fire held between her hands giving both heat and light.

"We have to go, now!!" Ekene shouted, and this time she did not wait for an answer. Shield up, she forged ahead into the storm. The Ovate followed behind her, as did Dalar, Vinie, Okoreo, Gideo, and the remaining Stargazers.

They made it almost as far as the gate – standing open with its door blown nearly clean off their hinges – when they encountered a group of soldiers who had had the foresight to seek shelter beneath the gateway. The soldiers drew their swords and moved to block the path, squinting obstinately through the gale.

"You'll find no escape this way, assassins!" their leader bellowed.

"Stop us then!" cried Okoreo, drawing his long knives.

Before anyone had a chance to cross blades, a sudden rattling of thunder interrupted them. Or rather, a rattling of hooves and wheels on cobblestones. Turning a corner on two wheels, Kiiss's carriage came hurtling down the street toward The Lair. Never before in recorded history had the posh, upper-class district of Berem's Grove seen a zebra-drawn carriage barrel through, trampling flower beds indiscriminately underfoot. Coming upon the soldiers at the gate, the zebras reared up, yipping and braying, sharp hooves flying. Several men were struck by a stray hoof, others had to throw themselves so dramatically to the side, they landed winded against the gateway.

Kiiss's colourful headwrap appeared in the carriage window, and she leaned out to shout above the din.

"Get in!"

The Stargazers didn't have to be told twice. They piled inside – all sixteen of them – cramming in until the remaining survivors had to find handholds on the back and roof of the carriage.

"Madame! The zebras won't be able to take this for long!" One of the carriage drivers yelled.

"Go!" Kiiss shouted back. "Get us out of the city!"

"Yas Madame!"

Lurching and lilting dangerously, slowed by the extra weight, the carriage took off down the streets of Amenthere. Although nobody bothered to look back, if they had they would have noticed the storm begin to lose some of its fury around The Lair. The swirling grey-green clouds became a little less sour, and inside the arena hail gradually turned to rain, falling to wash the blood from The Lair's sandy floor.

The Stargazers had other concerns though. Just as the driver had warned, the four-member zebra team, lithe and meant for show, could barely handle their burden, and the animals' ears flattened against their skulls as they ran. The further away from the storm they got, the more organized the city guard became. One group tried to barricade the carriage's path, but a well-aimed spear throw from one of the Stargazers on the roof created enough of a hole for them to barge through.

Inside the carriage, it was all anyone could do not to crush each other as they rattled and bounced their way through the city. Vinie, piled atop Gideo's lap alongside both Kiiss and the young Ovate, wondered for a brief moment if this weren't all a dream. A cry caught her attention though, and she realized that there were also children packed into the carriage with them. Young Chidea and Ngozi were there, as well as a little girl and even smaller boy. The girl was crying, and Okoreo was doing his best to comfort her. Vinie got the sinking feeling that Anuli StarGazer had not died childless.

Tani and Zaneo. For some reason, Sahar's entreaties struck Vinie hard at that moment. She had left her friend's orphaned boys back in Utunma with Bakko without so much as a second thought. The young Ovate was shivering next to Vinie, her yellow robes soaking wet, jaw clenched firm and scarlet eyes wide. The girl couldn't have been older than Yidu, if even that. Adrenaline still raced through Vinie's veins, but suddenly she felt a hundred years old. Despite probably being half-crushed by the weight of three women, Gideo was staring off into the distance, face blank. Vinie flexed her burned hands to distract herself, and winced at the searing pain. They weren't out of Amenthere yet.

"We're coming up on the Southern Gate!" came a shout from one of the drivers.

"Well, don't stop then!" yelled back Kiiss.

"It's closed!"

Cries of alarm went up from everyone in the carriage. If the city gate was closed, they would have no chance of escaping. Even with an Ovate on their side, they just didn't have the time or numbers to fight their way past a blockade. Very soon, Mahir would have the entire First Company in hot pursuit.

"Madame??" the driver called, sounding anxious.

Vinie and Kiiss glanced at one another. What could they do? If they stopped, they would be re-captured and taken back to The Lair. Everyone knew what that meant. Ekene's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword.

BANG

An ear-splitting crash made everyone jump in their seats. Throwing caution to the wind, Kiiss, Ekene, and Vinie all stuck their heads out the carriage window. What they saw made their mouths fall open.

The Southern Gate of Amenthere had been blasted open, a twisted maw of metal and wood opening out onto the road beyond. Splinters of stone and wood were scattered everywhere, and on both sides of the ruined gate soldiers lay groaning.

"What on-" Ekene started to say.

"GO!!!" Kiiss yelled at the top of her lungs.

The drivers were only too happy to oblige. By the time the guards regained their senses, the carriage full of Stargazers was already past the gate and thundering down the open road.

As they passed through the twisted remnants of the city gate, Vinie caught a glimpse of something...or rather, of someone. Standing amidst the swirling dust and debris, green eyes gleaming from a face that blurred into the walls around him, a tall figure in an easterner's headwrap watched the carriage's escape. No one else saw him, and when they were questioned later the soldiers had no explanation as to what had happened. They all agreed though that it was 'as if the stones themselves had come alive'.

OoOoO

"Will he live?"

Arzai turned away from where Davenir lay recovering on the floor of the royal viewing box, Brand at his side. Shortly after his feat involving the dragon statue, the Grey Obad had fainted, and was only just now beginning to regain his senses.

"Yes, Your Highness, I daresay he will. The strain of such a spell and using waking magic for the first time simply caught him off-guard."

Mahir nodded, tight-lipped and terse. Although the storm had abated inside The Lair, thunder continued to roll behind the king's eyes. Around them, the famed stadium of Amenthere was in tatters. Dead soldiers and Stargazers lay everywhere, and the stands had been utterly destroyed where the stone dragon landed. The sky above remained a cloudy, sullen grey. The scent of lightning hung heavy in the air.

"Good. The Magicol can't afford to lose any more Obads."

Rising to her feet, Arzai gathered up her damp, loose hair and tied it in a hasty knot over one shoulder. She still couldn't quite believe what she had seen. Neither could the rest of the Magicol, apparently. Roran stood alone to one side, staring down at Bvhoros's body. Brand alternated between clinging to Roran and clinging to Davenir (groggy though he still was). Even Frandel, always so quick to interject his opinion, remained unusually quiet. He kept glancing toward Arzai though, which Arzai did not like in the least.

As for Prince Hithon, he lingered close to where Roran stood mourning his teacher. Earlier, Hithon had tried to approach the Green Ovate, but Mahir had snapped at his son, warning him away from members of the Magicol. What little progress had been made toward healing the breach between the crown and its sorcerers, Arzai feared Ijireen's defection had just undone it all. That was why she kept a respectful distance from Mahir, her hands openly in view and posture uncharacteristically placating. The king was obviously agitated, and any sudden threat could have drastic consequences right now. Thankfully Davenir's dramatic effort with the statue seemed to have bought the Magicol a tiny, precious measure of grace.

"What do you command, my king?"

Mahir stood silently, deep in his own thoughts. The stare which he fixed upon Arzai was not one which she would have tolerated from anyone else. It was appraising, calculating, as one would examine a tool or weapon to determine its fitness for a task. Arzai tolerated it from Mahir though. Although she was beginning to believe that she herself might be able to survive losing the king's favour, there were still the Ovates to consider. That, and never in a thousand years could Arzai tolerate the likes of Frandel – the next most likely candidate - supplanting her as High Obad.

Finally, Mahir answered.

"Take the Grey Obad back to the Tower of the Elements. I want you, Frandel, and Davenir all fit to ride come sunrise."

'Ride where?' Arzai wanted to ask. What she said instead was "Yes, Your Highness."

Mahir dismissed her with a curt nod, and Arzai was quick to turn her attention back to the tattered remnants of the Magicol. Davenir was still groggy, but between Frandel and Roran they managed to get him on his feet. Brand trotted along after his master like a faithful puppy, looking on the verge of tears. Arzai did not miss the yearning, apologetic glance that passed between Roran and Prince Hithon as the Magicol departed for Castle Armathain. There was far too much else to contend with though, and Arzai discarded that particular observation for the time being.

That left Mahir and Hithon alone in the battered viewing box. Below in The Lair, the stake stood smoldering, half-burnt and extinguished by the storm.

"Father..." Hithon hesitated. Then, gathering his courage, he tried again. "Father, is this really worth it? Surely there must be another way than...this?"

Mahir, standing at the rail looking down at the stake, did not turn around. Instead, he stooped down, retrieved the crown from the ground, and placed it on his head.

"Someday, when you are king, you will know that this was the only way."

Hithon's gaze found the bloodstains on The Lair's white sandy floor, and a lump rose in his throat. "I refuse to believe that."

"Then you will never be king. Or at least, you will not be king for long."

"Good!"

Not giving his father any further chance to reply, Hithon turned and fled from the royal box. If his words stung Mahir, no one ever knew besides Mahir himself. Regardless, the once unshakable bond between father and son would never be the same again. 

OoOoO