Untitled (suggest a title) Part 4

Daveth smiled then latched his gaze onto Shymoora. “How could I not, when you have captured Seri V’raldii’s attention, I felt oddly left out.” He answered as he came to stand before them. Draven glanced at Shymoora who blushed madly.

“Most high.” She greeted primly and ducked into a deep curtsey, allowing herself time to school her emotions.

Draven cleared his throat. “Umdal, please allow me to introduce the Warden Connar O’nala. He has traveled with me these last phases.” He said, working to remove the Umdal’s attention from Shymoora.

Reluctantly the Umdal tore his gaze from Shymoora’s downcast eyes and smiled at Connar. “Welcome warden, I am always happy to extend my home to Blood Wardens, I hope that you find your stay pleasant.” He greeted.

“Will you be dining, Most High?” Draven asked then, still directing the conversation away from Shymoora, which she was glad for instantly. Draven on the other hand had not missed the Umdal’s interest in her, and was at once on alert. What had happened during his time away? He hoped he had not returned too late.

“Unfortunately not, Shensi, however it looks as if you have finished your meals any way, so I would have arrived too late at any rate.” Daveth answered with a smile. “No, I intrude because I have an appointment with the lovely Seri V’raldii this afternoon. Unless she has forgotten?” He lifted a brow and moved his eyes to Shymoora.

“Oh, of course not, but I do need a few moments to grab a shawl from my room, if you do not mind, Most High.” She replied, her eyes wide.

“Of course my dear.” The Umdal returned warmly. Shymoora nodded.

“If you’ll excuse me, I will see you both this evening I hope, and Shensi, please do not forget.” She made her excuses and then hurried away. Leaving Daveth and Draven to stare at one another.

“Perhaps a word Shensi?” The Umdal suggested and motioned for him to follow. Draven gave a short nod and followed Daveth to the end of the hall, leaving Connar to alone to ponder the sudden turn of events.

Once far away from the rest of the party Daveth turned to the Draven and smiled. Draven found he had to force himself to return the gesture. His mind full of what could be, apprehension snaked its way through his body, pulling his already weary nerves tight and awakening his senses. “I hope that Shymoora has behaved herself during my time away.” He commented.

“Of course, she has been the very definition of perfection. As always.” The Umdal replied, pushing Draven’s tightly coiled nerves further. “Actually that is precisely what, or rather who, I wish to speak of.”

“I see, I had thought as much.” Draven replied. “How might I be of assistance, Most High?”

“Well, I could not help but notice your very intent interest in the Seri, and I thought it best to address the matter from the start.” The Umdal began. “You see, I have come to care greatly for her, and during our time together I like to think that she has begun to feel for me in return, though a man can never be certain, can he?” Daveth smiled quickly. “No.” He answered for Draven. “To put it quite plainly, I am aware that the two of you spent a great deal of time together, alone, prior to her arrival here. I feel I must demand you tell me what your relationship with her is before we move any further.” He finished.

Draven coughed and glanced around, his fears were alive, and the Umdal had set his sights on Shymoora, and now wanted to know where he stood. He wrestled with the urge to land his fist in the man’s pretty face, it was an instinct that Shymoora had awaken in him and one he knew would get them both into a lot of trouble. Umdal Hansid was a potential ally to the Omon forces; if he did not approach this situation delicately he could jeopardize that alliance. No, this called for the long buried truth, one that he and everyone involved had kept hidden, but it was time to finally speak it. Still the words stuck in his throat. It would change everything, and the peace he had finally found between he and Shymoora would be shattered.

“She is my daughter.” He said quietly, and grim satisfaction washed over him at the sight of the Umdal’s pale shocked face. The confession also lifted a weight from his shoulders. “She is unaware.” He added.

“I-I see.” The Umdal managed. “And shall remain so, until you see fit to tell her differently. However this revelation has put me in a quite uncomfortable position. It seems I will need to beg your permission to continue on with my winning of Shymoora, do you grant me such a boon?”

Draven sighed. “Most High, permit me to speak frankly?”

“In this matter I see no other way, continue.”

“Shymoora is not available, at least not in the way that you would desire, that is if you desire her in the most honorable sense, she is definitely not available in any less honorable sense. She must leave her on the morrow to travel to the Caverns and take of the blood ritual. You know the risk involved there. My daughter will be a warden, as I am. I will speak to her, I will see where she stands on this relationship with you, and offer her the choice, but I know how she will choose before even asking, as do you.”

Daveth considered the man’s words. “If I offered her my name do you think she would choose to abandon her calling?”

“I do not know, would you offer a simple Seri your name, and half of your throne?” Draven asked.

The Umdal frowned. “I could not, no, but I could offer her affection, security, and a place at my side. However my wife will be a titled woman or none at all.”

“Then you have my answer. Spend what time you can with Shymoora this evening, and then say what you must in parting, you will not see her again until the war meeting in the Sumas.” Draven answered.

Daveth opened his mouth then shut it. He gave a short nod and walked away, just in time to meet Shymoora as she returned.

“I am ready Most High.” Shymoora said as she pulled a shimmering shawl around her shoulders. Draven and Connar nodded as the passed, leaving she and the Umdal alone. Shymoora studied the sudden ashen look on Daveth’s face and frowned. “Is everything all right?” she asked with slight worry.

Daveth took her elbow and led her out of the dinning hall. “Of course, let us take our stroll shall we.” He answered shortly had half escorted half dragged her to the indoor gardens. The air was fragrant in the large space and lit with the soft glow of twinkling star flies. It was a while into the slow walk before Daveth glanced behind them to see how far they had come and dropped his hand from her elbow. He turned her to face him and pulled her into his arms, pressing her cheek to his chest as his face sank into her unveiled hair. Shymoora sensed his need and decided to let him have his moment of closeness, something was definitely amiss and she worried for the Umdal. “My Darling,” he whispered.

“Daveth, what has happened?” She asked softly and pulled back far enough to look at his face. “You must tell me.” She watched as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Tell me I have succeeded and that you love me, my sweet Seri.” He whispered, “I beg you, tell me I have your heart.” His words sounded strained, as if there was more emotion behind them than he dared show.

Shymoora closed her eyes then and sighed. “What has brought this on Daveth?” She persisted.

“My time with you is drawing to a close, and I fear I have failed in winning your affection.” He answered in a choked voice. “Soon I will be forced to let you go, too soon, and I do not think I have the strength.” He added. Shymoora opened her eyes to see the slickness of tears in his lowered lashes and reached up to rub her thumb over them.

“Daveth, you are weeping?” She whispered. Suddenly the Umdal sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around her waist pressing his face into her belly he sobbed silently. Shymoora placed her hands on his trembling shoulders and frowned, her own eyes misting from seeing such raw emotion in such a controlled man. “Please…” was all she could think to say. Daveth turned his face and pressed his cheek to her midsection as he took a deep breath to regain control.

“I love you, every part of me yearns for you, to have you, to keep you with me always. You need only say the word and I will give you everything within my power to give.” He murmured.

“Are you asking me to be- to be your- “She stammered with shock and an odd sense of importance. She was flattered beyond measure by such an offer. Daveth moved to his feet and grasped her hands staring into her eyes.

“If I could my love, oh if only, but that is the one thing I cannot offer you.” He confessed. “Please..” Shymoora pulled her hands free and stepped back.

“Then what? You are begging me to be your lover? Your, what? Kept woman?” She asked suddenly hurt by his suggestion.

“You make it sound so cheap.” Daveth whispered.

“Because it is!” Shymoora snapped. “What, I do not understand, you have spent all of this time trying to elicit tender emotions from me, and for what? For this?”

Daveth reached for her but Shymoora didn’t want any part of it. Yes he had succeeded she realized, in making her care for him, but his confession that moment had crushed her, she felt cheated and insulted, and wounded in a way she could not quite fathom. “You don’t understand, I cannot marry an untitled woman, it is the law. But we can be together, as husband and wife.” He explained in a rush. “Just tell me you love me my Darling and I will make it so.”

“And then what? What about heirs? Will you give your name to my children, even though a woman unworthy of it bore them for you?” She asked angrily.

“No…” Daveth shoved his hand in his hair and swore. “You are worthy, you are, but it cannot be, my heirs will come from my wife if I want heirs, I will marry. But that needn’t come between you and I, it would only be an arrangement, nothing like this, this is real and pure.” He pleaded. He reached for her again but Shymoora spun away. She took a moment to form her words and then looked into his watery eyes.

“Yes, Daveth, I believe I did love you, right up until the moment you crushed my love for you with this shameful offer.” She said through clenched teeth, the sudden stricken look on his face made her want to snatch the words back but it was too late. The damage was done. “Good bye, Umdal.” She added in a gentler tone and turned away. She couldn’t move fast enough, before she had even opened her door the tears were streaming down her cheeks. The moment she was safely behind it she sank to the floor and sobbed like a little child.

PART 7


When Draven arrived at Shymoora’s rooms later that evening his blood boiled with unsatisfied rage. He could feel it surging through his veins like a foul venom. His daughter, the child that was all that was left of his one great happiness sat before him huddled on her sofa puffy-eyed and sniffling as Estra ran her withered hands over the girl’s hair and whispered words meant to sooth.

“What has happened?” He demanded, choking down the urge to grab Shymoora and pull her into a protective embrace. He knew, of course, yet he had not expected to find Shymoora in such a state, he wondered what had transpired in the garden after his very enlightening chat with Hansid.

“Lower your voice Draven, the girl’s distressed enough.” Estra scolded in a low hiss. Draven frowned deeply as Shymoora tucked her head into the woman’s robust busom and let out a tiny sob.  He sighed, running a hand over his face. Estra was right, his impatience was only making matters worse.

“Please, tell me who has caused her to such hurt?” Draven tried again, this time succeeding in swallowing his anger long enough to make the gentle request.

To his surprise Estra lifted Shymoora’s chin and brushed her tears away. His heart clenched tightly at the sight of her luminous face blotched and tear streaked, her pink lips quivering. “You must tell him, you hear.” Estra said in a sweet motherly tone. Shymoora closed her eyes, the moisture on her thick dark lashes shimmered in the light, and nodded. She took a deep shuddering breath and bunched her hands into tight fists in her skirts.

“W-while you were away the Umdal and I became…” Her cheeks reddened, “…close. Not so close as to cause scandal…yet emotions were involved.” She took another deep steadying breath. “I had thought to be no more than kind to him, but the night after you left he approached me with such passion I was frightened, I coaxed from him a promise never to force his affections on me again after that, and he did not.” She explained in a broken voice that tore at Draven’s guts like a beasts claw. “Yet he continued in his efforts to win me, and before I realized…he succeeded. I had only recently discovered that…but-but tonight he destroyed it!” She sobbed and shook her head. “I had thought, stupidly, that when he approached me this night it was to ask for my hand or the promise of the possibility, I was a fool, I should have listened to you, he doesn’t want me as a wife, I am not titled, not of noble blood.” She said, suddenly angry. “Instead he offered to have me as his kept woman, and insult that tore my heart from my chest.” Shymoora gasped. “I was unprepared for the pain of it, and his seriousness only impacted the hurt.”

“Frakkin bastard...” Draven muttered, but the women both flinched at the obscenity. “Umdal or not he had no right to disuse you!”

“I hate him, I hate him so much for being the weak disappointment that he is.” Shymoora choked. “I hate that I was the fool you believed me to be when you left. I hate – “

“Stop.” Draven commanded. “Do not do that. You are no fool a fool would have accepted his offer. You showed your strength this day, in a way most women in love would not.” He murmured in his gruff and oddly comforting tone.

“Look at me, this is not strength.” Shymoora cried with her arms outstretched. “And to know that I have to suffer another night at his table is unthinkable.” She added mournfully.

Draven suppressed a groan. His daughter had had her first heartbreak, perhaps the first of many, as her path was no easy one, and he was lost, utterly lost, on how to ease it for her. He prayed that time would sooth her, though it had not been so kind to his heart, and perhaps, just perhaps this was not love but infatuation, and she would not be made bitter from the outcome. “My mind is made up then, we shall not waste anymore time here, tonight you will need to face the Umdal and his barons, but it will be the last. We will leave in the morn, and head to the Caverns. You are ready for that journey.” He stepped forward and claimed Shymoora’s hands, studying the curve of her cheek. The bones had transformed, they were higher now, more pronounced and her pupils elongated. A Night Stalker. He thought. “I know that tonight will not be easy for you Shy, but know that you have my pride, know that your mother and father are proud.” He said gruffly.

Shymoora stifled another soft sob, this one a sob of tenderness at Draven’s words, then let out a long slow breath and lifted her chin proudly. She had grown into a strong and willed woman since he last saw her, and in her he saw all of the good things from himself, Fairwyyn, and Brayah combined. She was extraordinary.  “I can do this, I am Omari, Ugla, and Fade, I am the daughter of three great races, a warrior, a healer, and a mystic. No mere mortal will be allowed to shake me.” She said in a steady and calm voice. Draven could not help but smile as he listened to her pep talk, how often had he done that same exact thing prior to going into battle. She was him, the best of him, and his heart swelled with the recognition. Her eyes met his then and the fierceness in them caught him in wonderment, such purity and strength, “Thank you Draven.” She said with a curt nod, then released his hands and stood, forcing Draven to step to the side as she did so. “Estra, please help me prepare for the evening meal. It shall be my last so I plan to make an impression.” Draven sank into the sofa once the women had retreated to the next room and closed his eyes. His hands shook with unsatisfied fury, it was silly, but seeing that a man had caused his one care in the world such distress made him seethe.


Shymoora stood rigidly and proud before the baron’s of Umdal Hansid. Her chin lifted, face powdered, her eyes narrowed and lined with coal. They gaped, every one of them, the only man in the room who did not lift his gaze to her was Daveth, of that she was thankful. She did not cross the room to her customary place beside the Umdal, instead she allowed Draven to seat her between himself and Connar. Here she felt guarded, safe from the emotions that were still raw, and knew that the two would work to distract her from the glowering man at the opposite end of the great table. As she sank into her seat Daveth’s gaze lifted, she allowed herself only the briefest glance and took satisfaction in the wounded look that passed over his face. Let him suffer, let him stew with the knowledge that his cowardice has broken forever the bond that was once there, let him shoulder the blame for turning my love to hate, he deserves it all. She thought as she shook out her napkin and placed it in her lap. A moment later she turned her smile to Connar, “Warden O’nala, you will accompany us on our journey to the Carverns I hope.” She said as the guest fell into quiet conversation and the first course arrived.

Connar could not keep his eyes from the woman on his left. When they had met, only hours before, he had recognized a wild beauty in her, now she was almost regal as she gazed up at him with ever changing eyes. Draven had spoken about Shymoora at a length during their travels to Porni, he had explained the girl’s unique birth, her heritage, and her significance to the Blood Wardens. Yet he had come here expecting to find a girl, not this. Tonight she wore a shimmering white gown, with full skirts and a daring neckline. The gentle swell of her breast had drawn more than a few appreciative glances over the course of the meal, his included. She spoke to him with a gentleness that seemed to flow over and into him, awakening feelings he had closed off long ago. Desire. An inner voice whispered. Need. It persisted. He looked away. Yes she was lovely, and proud, but she was also young. He knew to entertain any thought of a dalliance with her would mean complications. He didn’t need complications. War was approaching and there was much to be done before the first battle began. No, best to satisfy his needs where he would not be expected to offer anything more lasting than a bit of coin and a kind word.

He glanced up as the Umdal, brooding man that he was, stood slowly from his seat. Everyone stood as well, a show of respect that seemed useless to Connar, but expected none the less. He stood as well, a bit slowly, unfurling his long thick limbs and standing ramrod straight. It was an opportunity to measure his size to Shymoora’s. Standing side by side her piled blond tresses brushed almost evenly with his shoulders. She suddenly struck him as fragile and delicate. This slip of a girl was going to partake of the blood ritual? He nearly shuddered at the thought. Draven was condemning this woman to death, he had little doubt of that. Connar lowered his head respectfully as the Umdal passed, everyone did, except for Shymoora, she lifted her chin defiantly. Yet, amazingly, the Umdal continued on without uttering a word of reproach. Even more shockingly as the Umdal slowed behind him, Connar sensed him reach out to touch Shymoora, his blood ran cold when he heard the empty-headed girl’s voice, “Coward, liar, leave me, I hate you.”

“Shymoora.” Draven warned from his position on Shymoora’s left, only then did Connar raise his head, curious.

“No, Shensi, I will not take issue with Seri V’raldii for her words. This time.” The Umdal interjected with a raised hand.

To Connar’s increasing shock Shymoora spun to face the Umdal. He scanned her face finding her eyes flashing, the pooling emerald irises swirling madly, the pupils narrowing into a cat-like shape, lavender magic sizzled on her skin, but her form remained entirely human. He was intrigued, how she, one so young, had mastered the gift, was able to bring forth her kinspirit strength while remaining in her human form, it perplexed him. “There will be no other time after this Umdal, Most High.” She spat his rank and title as if the words were bitter on her tongue. “You will be dead to me.” She added, he could feel her anger rising, it seemed to leap from her to Connar like little jolts of lightening, instinctively he curled his fingers around her elbow, willing her to remain calm.

“Perhaps that is best then.” The Umdal replied with a note of defeat in his voice. “Safe journey.” He added before he turned away and left the three shifters standing there. Almost in unison Draven and Connar turned to look at Shymoora, whose eyes still burned with unreleased anger. She jerked her arm away from Connar’s grasp as if just noticing his touch. He let his hand fall easily back to his side.

“That was very foolish.” Connar commented.

“Perhaps, but I could not have left without saying the words that have been festering in my mind all evening.” She more replied calmly.

Draven’s sigh drew her attention then, she turned her back to Connar, dismissing him entirely. She was cold then, the heat he had felt diminished and was replaced by an icy shield, he shivered with the sense of it. “I will retire now.” She informed quietly.

“Very well, in the morning we will set out. We will travel by foot eastward to the Warden Outpost and from there we will see about a swifter mode of transport. I am anxious to return and complete your admittance so that we can focus on what needs to be done. Our time is precious.” Draven replied.

“Were it not for my desire to say farewell to friends I would leave tonight, but you need to rest, tomorrow will be soon enough to quit this place.” Shymoora agreed.

“Good night then da-Shymoora.” Draven said then, awkwardly.

Connar stood straighter as she turned to face him. “Thank you, good evening Warden O’nala.” She murmured, not looking up, as if her bravado had drained. Instinct warred with common sense inside of him, in the end he merely nodded.

“Sleep well, Seri.” He replied.




The following morning dawned and outside of her window Shymoora could see that nature was an empathic force, for what she saw outside mirrored how she felt inside. The air was thick with blinding snow, dancing savagely on the howling wind. Yes, that was how she felt inside that morning, frigid and restless. She wanted so badly to leave, flee, right then without hesitation. A soft knock on her bedroom door pulled her from her thoughts and she lifted her cold gaze to find Estra watching her with a look of adoration and sadness. “I come to help you prepare.” She said in a shaken voice. “Best if you dress warm.” She added as she moved into the room. Shymoora gave a slight nod and looked back out of the window. She listened to Estra bustle behind her, and tried desperately not to hear the older woman’s soft sniffles.  “This will do, me thinks.” She said finally.

Shymoora turned and moved away from the window, she stood, motionless while Estra removed her sleeping gown and replaced it with a thick and heavy black skirt atop a pair of padded long underwear.  She didn’t flinch as the woman placed the half corset over her thin undergarments and pulled it tight, securing Shymoora’s flesh in an unforgiving but warm prison then slid a white blouse over her shoulders and tucked it into her waist band. Only then did Shymoora move away, she retrieved her sword and her belt and secured both in place with smooth untried movements. Finally she slid her feet into the thick black leather boots, and turned to face Estra. “Thank you, Estra, for everything.” She said quietly.

“Ack!” The woman sobbed and covered her face. Shymoora did not touch her but moved to stand beside Estra. “I’ll be missing you.” She said finally as she brushed her tears away and chuckled. “Best that you get going soon, there are others waiting to wish you well before you leave.” Estra added in her normal tone, but she gave Shymoora a tender smile and quickly pulled her into her big soft arms holding her tightly for a fraction of a second before she grabbed Shymoora’s travel pack and ushered her out the door. To her surprise Connar stood in the sitting room, waiting. His very male presence seemed almost laughable when viewed surrounded by such a feminine décor. Shymoora smiled.

“Draven asked that escort you down; he is busy at the moment and will meet us below.” Connar informed her matter-of-factly.

“Of course, thank you.” Shymoora replied. She stood waiting for a moment at his side, until finally is dawned on her that he had no idea of the customs here, much like she had not when she arrived, the thought brought a smile to her face.

“Shall we then?” He asked gruffly, shifting with appearent discomfort. Shymoora nodded but instead of walking ahead of him she lifted his arm and placed her fingers on his wrist, the heat of his skin was a bit dizzying, but she gritted her teeth, this man was virile and strong and sensing that did something savage to Shymoora’s senses, she felt intimidated by him but there was something else as well.

“Yes.” She murmured finally, much to her delight Connar lifted a brow at her touch and gave a slight smirk. “It is custom.” She explained quickly, not wanting him to think the wrong thing.

“I see, well then we shall suffer it then.” He replied teasingly. It brought a bit of warmth to her cheeks, his teasing, and she was thankful for his thought.

Below Shymoora was greeted by Master Lina and Whipple, and a few of the staff and barons she had befriended during her stay. Daveth was not there, and while she tried not to be hurt by that realization, she felt the sting keenly. She smiled at her instructors as they praised her and gave her quick kisses on her cheeks, she shook hands with the barons and their wives, promising to look them up if ever in the area again, and she hugged the servants who had taken care to show her kindness and offer her comfort while she adjusted to the newness of her situation upon her arrival. It was bittersweet to be leaving, and her heart twisted with regret. She wished suddenly that she had asked Draven for a few more days of rest before moving on.

Tears were shed by more than one of her well-wishers, but in the end everyone smiled brightly for her as she tied her cloak around her shoulders and slipped her hands into fur lined gloves. It was time to leave. Draven strode into the hall, behind him a disheveled servant boy scurried to keep up, dragging the Shensi’s heavy pack with him. In moments everyone in their trio was suited up and waving as the massive doors to the Porni Palace creaked open and the howling wind burst inside. Shymoora pulled her hood up and without another look back she stepped out into the swirling Colmas morning, as they descended into the deserted street she thought she heard her name carried on the wind, it was a sorrowful sound, and when she looked back she could just glimpse the palace doors closing to secure the form of Daveth, his eyes pleading. She drew herself up and set her mouth in a firm line. He was too late.

The wind in the city bit at them, intensified by being forced to run through the narrow streets, Shymoora was glad that they walk with it beating on their backs, for it would surely have stolen her breath to face such an angry force. They passed few people in the street, only the occasional serf looking for a bit of pity on a hard Colmas morning, or a patrol man grumbling about his detail and the weather. Once they reached the eastern edge of Porni and moved into the forest the wind seemed to ease, allowing the chill to settle upon them. It was not intolerable, but Shymoora soon found herself wrapping a scarf over her nose and mouth for added warmth. They traveled in silence for the most part, which allowed for time to reflect. Shymoora began viewing her time in Porni, did she have any regrets?

It was midday before she had an answer, no. Her time in Porni had been enlightening, good and bad, her feelings for Daveth had been her first taste of something that promised great things, and while the sting of his cowardice was still fresh, she did not regret allowing what came to pass. Nature seemed appeased by her revelation, and as the turmoil within her abated so did the harshness of the day, the wind died, the snow stuck to the puffy gray clouds above. Silence blanketed to forest, the only sounds were the soft whispers of their feet as they plodded onward through the ankle deep snow beneath them. Night came quick during Colmas, it also came with a chill that sank into you and gripped you relentlessly, Shymoora was beginning to feel the promise of a cold night when Draven signaled for them to stop. She pulled her scarf down and tucked it under her chin.

“Are we stopping?” She asked quietly.

“We need to get camp ready before nightfall.” Draven replied. “O’nala, gather kindling, Shymoora and I will set to brushing some of this snow away.” He added. Connar nodded and trotted off easily in the snow. Shymoora gave Draven an odd look.

“Clear the snow away?” She asked, but was answered when Draven pulled two lengths of evergreen branch down from a nearby tree and tossed one at her. She caught it easily and watched as he began to sweep, forming a circle large enough for a fire, then began working his way outward. With a shrug she followed suit, assisting him in widening the space. They swept until the grass below was visible and the circle was large enough for a fire and the three of them. It was hard work, one would not think snow that floated easily through the air, and danced on the breeze could become so laden once it touched the earth. She panted softly when Draven finally gave a satisfied nod.

“Good.” He grunted. He then took the branch from Shymoora and set it against the thick trunk of an ancient tree. As they finished rolling out their sleeping mats Connar returned with his arms full of twigs and slender branches. He dropped them in the center of the circle and crouched beside the pile, positioning the uppermost wood into a tripod. Within minutes a warm fire was glowing and the three moved close to it, letting the warmth wash over them. “It will be cold tonight,” Draven murmured and pointed up. The clouds overhead were beginning to clear, giving way to the crisp clear sky above. Already the sky was streaked with purple, the first stars winked down at them, as if to confirm Draven’s statement.

“With the three of us body heat should be sufficient.” Connar commented idly.

Draven nodded. “A hot meal will help as well.” He replied. Shymoora opened her mouth to offer to hunt but Draven shook his head. “I will see to it.” He said. He cast Connar a rough glance, as if to say, watch her closely. Shymoora was instantly misled by the look and glared at Draven in response. “I won’t be long.” He said finally, as he stood and moved into the thick brush, the faint scent of Ugla magic followed behind him and the low menacing growl of a prowling beast. Then silence. Shymoora watch Connar as he fed the fire, her mind touching only briefly on the past, which now seemed so long ago. That inevitably led to thoughts of her mother, who she had not contact with during her stay in Porni, she wondered why. Tonight she would seek her mother out, she hoped it would work.

“You are feeling better?” Connar’s silken tone caught her by surprise, she closed her mouth over a startled gasp and leveled her eyes to his clear blue gaze, one moment his eyes were like gleaming sapphire, the next they rivaled the late afternoon sky.

“Yes, the fire is just what I needed, I had not expected such harsh weather.” She replied finally. She was met with a frown, obviously she had missed his meaning. “Oh…” she said and looked out over the forest around them. “Yes, much.” She said finally.

“Good.” Connar replied simply and poked the fire again. After a few long moments he spoke again, “You truly intend to go through with the blood ritual?”

Shymoora watched him closely for a moment. “I am aware that there is a certain level of danger involved but yes, I am.” She answered. In truth, she knew little of the ritual, but sensed that was intentional, she felt a tinge of apprehension settle deep within her.

“I am, surprised.” Connar replied.

“Oh, and why is that.” Shymoora asked, lifting her thin arched brows as she met his gaze. She forced herself not to flush when his gaze roamed over her briefly and then moved back to meet her unflinching stare.

“You are frail.” He muttered. She glared green ice.

“Not so much as I seem, I assure you.” She replied sharply.

“That remains to be seen.” He countered.

“You seek a demonstration?” She asked.

“No, time will tell, this journey is not easy.” He informed her cooly.

“Nor has it ever been, from the start. You know nothing of what you speak, I would ask that you not judge me, and I will refrain as well.” Shymoora said with a haunty note. Living among the royal family provided important lessons, one of which being how to level your voice and lift your chin when challenged.

“Draven has shared much with me about you, even so, I have my doubts.” Connar lied, “But as I said, time will tell.”

Shymoora narrowed her eyes. “Yes, it will, for us both.” She replied, then stood and strode away. She had the last word, for now that would do.


She didn’t go far, of that Connar was certain, he could still smell her soft scent, it was a reminder. Why had he treated her so coldly?  It was true he wanted to discourage her, he simply felt the path of a Blood Warden was too dangerous, better she wife and mother instead.

“It would be best if you kept those ideas guarded from now on friend, her fadling skills will reawaken soon enough.” Draven’s voice pulled him from his silent tirade. Connar looked up to find the older man grinning wryly at him while a small furry carcus dangled from his hand.

“Why are you not concerned about the ritual? Look how weak and small the girl is.” Connar asked with clear confusion. “Even the strongest of men have not survived it.” He added.

Draven dropped the carcus into Connar lap, a silent order to clean and prepare the meat. He claimed his mat and sat staring at the other man. “ When considering the grand scheme of things O’nala, it is not only her safety that I must decide upon. The risk is great, but you are wrong about her being weak, and you know it.” Draven said finally.

Connar glanced up from his bloody work and frown, he opened his mouth to utter a denial when the crunching warning of Shymoora’s return stopped him. “I will have this finished soon.” He watched as Shymoora made her way to Draven’s side, and sank to a crouch before him, they spoke in low tones, something about the veil but nothing that Connar really understood. Shrugging he hoisted the now clean meat over the fire and set to cooking it.

“Are you certain?” Draven asked in a tight voice. Shymoora could sense his displeasure, it was thick and choking. She nodded.

“Yes, I saw it with my own eyes. It’s bad isn’t it?” She replied. Shymoora had returned from an attempt to contact her mother, it was failed, but she did make it to the veil, what she found were other fades, displaced. She was warned, the Chetaka were about, there had been an attack, a tainted black mist had swept through the veil and the fade were left picking up the pieces. Worry for her mother was like an icelance to her heart, “I couldn’t find Brayah…” she whispered.

“Do not fret, a fade cannot be destroyed unless they are attacked while in the mortal plane.” Draven soothed awkwardly. “Yet, this is unexpected, it means the enemy knows more about our forces than we anticipated, it also means that things are progressing much more quickly than we were prepared for.”

Shymoora sank into a sitting position and sighed. “I had wondered why she did not come to me, could this have been happening all along?”

“No, Porni is an unwelcome place for fade, and the palace has enchantments set in place to keep them away, fade make uncannily good assassins.” Draven answered. “No, this is recent, if you said that the fade were still scrambling, it was recent indeed.” For the first Draven realized the advantage to having someone who was a link between planes, Shymoora was invaluable. He patted her gloved hand, trying to ease some of her worry. “Brayah is an important figure, she is no doubt busy with restoring the veil. Call her in a few days time.” He rumbled in a voice that was stranger to his ears.

“I am sure you are right.” Shymoora replied with a frown.

“We must make haste to the outpost however, in light of this new information. It is imperative that things progress quickly.” Draven said then, his words were met with the crackling sound of the air electrifying behind them, Draven turned in time to see three fades step from the shadows along with three Veil Steeds. The creatures always mystified him, shimmering powerful bodies, light poured from their sightless eyes and pooled around their floating manes and stamping feet.

“You are correct, Draven, there is no time to loose.” Brayah agreed as she moved gracefully toward them, the two males remained in place, with the steeds.

“Mother.” Shymoora breathed and stood to embrace the glowing form that stood before her.

“Forgive me darling for causing you worry. Things have grown complicated since we last spoke.” Brayah replied as she held Shymoora to her for a moment and then stepped back. “Connar, Draven, it has been a very long time since I have seen you.” She greeted, her eyes touched Draven and he surpressed the urge to shudder. “I can feel your distaste Draven, even after all of this time.” She murmured.

“What else did you expect?” Draven heard himself asking and frown when he was met with a shrug.

“Brayah, it is good to see you.” Connar greeted with a nod. “It has been a long time since indeed.” He added then turned the sizzling meat over the fire. Brayah returned her gaze to Draven, who stood finally and nodded in her direction.

“What brings you?” He asked coldly.

“The veil was attacked, the enemy strengthens continuously, and we have seen they possess the Gorida, your time is fleeting.” Brayah explained.

“Frak!” Connar cursed as he stepped around the fire to join the conversation. “Are you certain they have awaken the ancient?”

Draven stilled when Brayah frowned and nodded. “They are draining her, it is difficult to witness.” She murmured.

“What is the Gorida?” Shymoora asked, obviously lost.

“It is an ancient fade, a powerful one, she was put to rest, legend tells she was thwarted by a lover and it turned her heart to ice, she reaped havoc on the mortal world in her rage.” Connar explained.

“Our enemy has awoken her now, and used some dark magic to chain her to the mortal plane, deep within their caverns, they draw from her, and the power feeds the Chetaka, allowing them to move faster and farther.” Brayah continued. “It does not bode well, already the villages closest to the western shore have fallen.” She added. “You must travel quickly to your destination.” She told Draven.

“I know this.” He replied sharply.

“Shymoora must partake of the blood ritual, you must move then to the war council and from there gather your allies, we have glimpsed the first battle, it will be difficult.” Brayah continued without pause. “Omon is no longer safe, those who will not fight should move eastward.”

“We can only move so fast, if you have not noticed Colmas is upon us, the snow slows our progress on land.” Draven said in bitter tones.

“We have brought you steeds, you must continue on, there is no time to rest.”