It all happened so quickly.

Because it had changed its orientation, her trajectory took her straight at its underbelly. When she hit, she sank her front talons and her upper fangs into its wing, striving to tear the membrane, and let her momentum carry her back claws into what, on us, would be the soft flesh just in front of the back legs.

Then she started to scream.

She could not free herself from it. Her front talons and her fangs were embedded in the black wing, but it was not flesh. Where her talons tore frantically at the surface, I saw a white-hot seething mass, just before her forelegs disappeared into the creature. It was terrible. Her screams redoubled, ringing hideously in my ears. It seemed that the thing had caught hold of her body and was actively pulling her into itself as they fell earthwards. It was plain that she could not get away, and I watched in sick horror as she began to burn—but she denied it the final victory. She chose of her own will the Swift Death, and cleansing Fire took her instantly from within.

The Black Dragon cried out briefly in pain then, as pure Fire, sacred to the Kantri, took Treshak to sleep on the Winds with her lost Aidrishaan. I saw something small drop to the earth and marked where it fell. The great black thing pulled out of its dive, and flapping clumsily but otherwise unconcerned, it returned to its eastward course as if nothing had happened. It ignored me. It ignored the great mass of the Restored, flying high above and watching in agony.

"Back. Go back. This will not be overcome by fury, my people," I said sternly. "Let us go back and think how we may defeat this creature, lest we all be taken down into darkness."

"We will not let it go, Shikrarl" cried Naikenna, the Eldest of the Restored after Treshak.

"I do not ask it of you, Naikenna. Follow at a distance and mark where it flies," I said sadly. "And bespeak us, as we will you. We will follow soon. I pray you, use what restraint you may and do not attack the creature again as Treshak did." I could not conceal the deep grief that weighed down my heart. "We have longed for your Restoration for many lives of our people. I pray you, do not desert us for the sake of vengeance. We will find another way to destroy the creature, we will all bend our minds to it—I beg you, practice what Disciplines you may, Restraint and Calm if you can bear them, Forbearance if all else fails, but I beg you, do not go down into death for no purpose."

"We will do what we may," said Naikenna coldly. "Follow soon." And she closed her mind to me.

I turned back sadly and flew low, coming to land where I had marked the fall of Treshaks soulgem. It took me only a little time to discover it where it lay at the side of a field, half buried in mud. I wiped it clean on the grass and gazed into the depths dreading what I might find.

Clear. It was clear.

I breathed again. There was no flicker, she was not trapped again, it was like all the soulgems of those who have gone before. I gave silent thanks to the Winds from the depths of my heart, clutched it to my chest, and flew back to Timeth's field and my own people. I bespoke all of the Kantri and told them what had happened, in every detail. We needed to know what we faced.

It was in my heart to speak with Salera as well. She was proven disastrously correct in the vision she had revealed to us. If she knew aught of the creature we faced, or could assist us in any way, I would beg it from her before we left.

My father's words were meant to help us understand, and they did, but we all work differendy. Some at least there were who became desperately afraid. I could understand, for we all felt horribly exposed, resting as we were in the northern end of Farmer

Timeth's field. Nearly thirty souls rose up when Hadreshikrar described Treshak's passing, their weariness forgotten, scattering in all directions as their fear took them, seeking shelter in hills, in caverns, in the heart of whatever forest they might find. I could not blame them. If I had had neither mate nor youngling, I might have even made one of their number.

My father returned soon with Treshak's soulgem and reverently made room for it in one of the casks that contained all the others of our people who slept on the Winds.

The rest of us took what courage we could muster and did what small tasks there were to do before we departed, clearing away the remains of our feeding, taking a long drink ere we set off after the Dhrenagan and whatever dark destiny awaited us.

It was in this hour that my mate Mirazhe proved the usefulness of forethought. She had spent the morning arranging for the lan-sip trees and seedlings, which had been carried at such great cost of weariness across the Great Sea, to be planted in a large corner of Timeth's field. We watered them in by the mouthful, carried from the nearby stream. By the time we needed to leave, the lan-sip was as well cared for as we could manage. It was an important task for many reasons, the practical among them, but to me at that moment it was a powerful expression of faith in our future. Lan-sip, Lanen had taught me, was worth more to the Gedri than its weight in silver; with it, we might have some useful coin in which to treat with those who must see our arrival as a kind of invasion.

The trick with lansip is, of course, that it cannot flourish except in the presence of the Kantri. I do not wish to be crude, but it had astounded me over the centuries that those Gedri who had come to our island and taken seedlings or saplings back with them, against all experience (for the young trees always died), had never considered the matter of—fertilizer.

Farmer Timeth, however, had summoned his courage and come out to ask what we were doing to his land. He did not object, especially when we told him what kind of trees they were. He watched carefully and said he'd do all he could to look after them, but as I had learned from Lanen how valuable lansip leaves were to the Gedri, I would not follow our fate eastwards without making certain that the trees would be protected. Some of our number would have to stay, and one choice at least was obvious. The youngest of us, and his mother, must remain behind.

My parting from my beloved Mirazhe and our young son Sherok was the darkest and most desperate moment of my Me, and I will not dwell upon it. Her spirit showed its true colours in that evil time, for I knew well that she would have come with us in a moment had it not been for Sherok, and because he was there she would not leave his side. He had barely seen six full moons, and already he had crossed the Great Sea. He should have been running on grass and diving in shallow pools for many years, not having to hide from death and danger. My beloved swore to keep herself and him safe and far from harm. A few others also decided to stay, for they were kind and would not leave Mirazhe and Sherok alone.

I was also intent on making certain that Dhretan agreed to remain behind. He was the youngest apart from my son, and although he had come of age he was yet very young in spirit. I was forced to take him aside and ask him to protect my beloved Mirazhe before I could make him stay. I warned her that I had convinced him so, and I delighted to hear her mindvoice lilt with delight as she assured me she would do her best to appear helpless for Dhretan's sake. At least for a few hours.

My father rose up and flew the short miles to Verfaren, there to collect the Kantri and Gedri who sought the demon-master Berys. It seemed that, at least for the moment, our paths lay together, but I did not doubt that we would be parted ere long. I wished them good fortune, but in the face of the dark evil that threatened to overwhelm us all I am ashamed to admit that all my care was for the Kantri. A single Gedri life, even that of so dark a soul as Berys, suddenly seemed to weigh little in the balance.