When all was done that might be done, I again bespoke Naikenna, who gave me the best directions she could, and as the sun rode down into the west, we rose and followed our destiny eastwards into the rising dark.

Even at the time I thought of it as the Last Flight of the Kantrishakrim. Only a hundred and fifty of us took to the air, singing a wordless song of battle and determination and courage.

The legend of the Black Dragon was simple and terrible. From our earliest times, it had been said that the Doom of the Kantri would rise up, in shape and form as one of us, pure black in hue, but with killing fire in its veins. A great battle would rage in the sides above terrible mountains like talons of our enemies, but it would last no more than a single day, sunrise to sunset— and when it was done, when the Eldest of the Kantri fell from the sky, then would come our doom and the ending of the world.

To say that I was torn barely touches the surface. My heart was raging, now in one direction, now in another. I knew that safety lay with Mirazhe and those few of the Kantri who were going to remain in the west. That delightful vision of peaceful rest among the gardens of Elimar had seduced me, in my heart of hearts I was willing Shikrar and the others to get on and leave, and then that damned Black Dragon showed up.

I heard them, of course. The Bestored had yelled "Demon-lord" so loud I'm surprised Rikard hadn't heard it. And then they all took off after it—sweet Shia, only bloody dragons would fly as fast as they could towards their greatest enemy! Anyone with sense would run the other way. I was ready to do just that, with a song in my heart, but then I hit the stone wall that was my husband.

He had turned to me, his harrowed soul in his eyes, and said, "I must go, Lanen."

"What?" I said, confused. "Go where?"

"It is the legend. When the Black Dragon rises, filled with killing Fire, a great battle will come—the great battle—and with it our doom." He bowed his head and added quietly, "Our doom, and the ending of the world."

"Don't be ridiculous!" I snapped. "I don't care how powerful it is, it can't bloody well bring the world to an end." I spat, disgusted. "Legends indeed! Legends are no more than stories, and they grow with every telling. If there is a grain of truth in your legend, it's more than I expect."

"Natheless, kadreshi, I must go with them," he replied, abstracted. "A moment. Shikrar bespeaks me. Even now Treshak flies to do battle with—no!"

I winced. I heard that as well, saw as if I flew with him the dreadful images that Shikrar was sending. Treshak bursting into flame, unable to escape, choosing the Swift Death after surviving so many long ages trapped and Lost. It was terrible, it was heartrending, and it set Varien's resolve as nothing else could have done. "Surely you see it, Lanen?" he said, trying to sound reasonable. "Would you have me wait with you, safe and at our ease, while those I love face death?'

That was it. Here I was, shaking with terror, and he wanted to play the hero. As usual, I turned fear into anger. Anger is so much easier to deal with.

"And what will you do, while they are fighting?" I asked, suddenly furious. "What can you do against the Black Dragon that they cannot? Where are your wings, to fly against it as your people will?" I cringed even as I said that. It was a cruel thing to throw in his face, but just at that moment I'd use any weapon I could reach. "Has it occurred to you that the nearer we come to Berys, the nearer I come to death?" I cried. "Why put Shikrar and Jamie to the bother of saving me if we are going to go back into the teeth of that evil? Will you throw even our children on the pyre of your loyalty to the Kantri?"

"Enough," Varien growled.

"No, it's not enough," I snarled in return. "We said we'd speak truth to each other, Varien, no matter what," I reminded him. "The Kantri five too long! You, even you lose track of how fleeting life can be." I could no longer control my voice, it shook so that I could barely speak. "I fear Berys to my bones, Akor. He wants me for a sacrifice. He said he'd take my soul, wed whatever is left— though I suppose he'd have to murder you first—and use my blood for Goddess knows what. By now Marik has surely told him of my pregnancy." I was shaking head to foot now, my arms wrapped about me as they had been in that terrible cell. "Goddess, how can you ask it of me?"

"I ask nothing of you," he said, his voice utterly calm, his gaze cold now and shuttered. "Wait here in safety. I will bespeak you when there is news, and if I survive I will return as swiftly as I may."

"Damn you!" I screamed. "Did you hear a word I said?"

"Of course. If you fear Berys, you need not be anywhere near him. Mirazhe will be glad of your company, as will young Sherok."

I reached out with my mind, but his was closed to me. I could not reach him. Oh Hells. Is he lost to me, so suddenly? I was shaking, whether with fear or anger I couldn't be certain. Just like that, to have him turn from me?

"You must do as your heart tells you," he said quietly. "So must I."

Thank the Goddess, just then he reached out to touch my cheek, and his hand trembled as well. "There are some things in this world, Lanen, that must take precedence even over the truest love that ever was. For all that I have the form of a child of the Gedri, I am yet the Lord of the Kantrishakrim, the King of my people. I have been so for more than seven hundred winters. How then? Shall I turn my back on my people in their hour of need? Even if I cannot fly into battle, yet I know them. I know their hearts. If I am with them, I may not make any real difference to the battle, but, Lanen"—he reached out for my hand and held it between his two as gently as if it were a rose—"if I am a thousand leagues from them and they facing the worst evil our race has ever known, how shall they have the heart for battle? The Kantri choose their King in each generation. It is a sacred I rust. I cannot break it, kadreshi," he said, and his voice shook just a little, "even if keeping faith with my people breaks my own heart and yours."

For a fleeting moment as I reached my own decision, I wished with all my soul that we had been willing just this once to stick to comforting lies; that just this once we might have done what we wished rather than what was right.

"Oh, Hells' teeth," I muttered, swearing rather more than that. "Come on, then, we have to catch Shikrar."

"But—" he said.

"Don't be stupid," I said. "I'm not letting you out of my sight. Shia only knows what you might get up to if I left you to your own devices."

"And what of Berys?" he asked quietly.

I lifted my chin and stared intently into his emerald-green eyes, so full of hurt and sorrow.

"Just don't bloody well lose."

When I landed in Verfaren I found the others ready to depart on my word. Of all of them, it was Aral alone who came forward to meet me, her eyes full of sorrow. "Varien told us, Shikrar," she said, reaching out to touch me. I took a strange comfort from the gesture, though I could not feel it. "I am so sorry to hear of Treshak's death. May the Winds and the Lady preserve us all. This is a terrible day."

"All hath gone ill this day, truly," I replied sadly. "Let us hope that our fortunes will improve."

"At least the Healers and the Lesser Kindred have made their peace," she said, doing her best to speak something of hope to me.

I nodded. "So much good at least is done. And you remind me, I would speak with Salera before we leave. Forgive me."

Aral nodded and hurried off to join Gyrentikh. The Healer Vilkas awaited her.

I bespoke Salera. She flew swiftly to meet me, showing me gleefully Mik's surprise at her abrupt departure aloft. She landed neatly before me. "How may I serve you, Eldest?" she asked.