"I think we should go back," Prios said, and Catrin noticed once again that his energetic form was whole and his spirit spoke to her with its lips and mouth. It had been disconcerting at first since her husband normally spoke only in her mind. The loss of his tongue at the hands of Archmaster Belegra had prevented normal speech. "We'll die if we stay here."

"We've tried," Catrin said. "They are out there, waiting to tear us apart. I can feel them. I've nothing left to fight them with. If we leave, we die." Though the air reeked of power, her spirit was weak and insubstantial. Outside waited darkness that seemed to feed on the light of the many comets that now crowded the skies. It frightened her how quickly her world had changed.

"I could go out alone and lead them away," Prios said. "Maybe then you could get back. The world needs you. Sinjin needs you."

"The world and Sinjin need us both."

Weariness once again set in, just the act of talking depleting what little willpower Catrin still possessed. She turned back to Prios, expecting him to say something, but his form was fading, his eyes fixed on a point far away, and Catrin once again doubted either of them would survive.

Clouds hung low in the sky, and the light of a dozen herald globes lit the way as Chase and his men escorted farmers to their lands. The livestock were gone, much of Lowerton destroyed, but Chase was determined to get all the food, oil, salt, spices, and other goods they could into the hold. In fortnight since the dragons had arrived, the hold's stores dwindled far too rapidly. Crops continued to ripen under the eyes of the dragons during the day, and it seemed one male in particular had claimed this area as his territory. The people called him Reaver. Venturing out in the daylight meant risking being eaten.

Bats flew overhead, attracted by the moths that gathered around the herald globes. Chase and his men were armed with spears, but it was truly little defense against a dragon attack. Only the darkness kept the monsters at bay. Many within Dragonhold would no longer use the hold's name, and Chase felt guilty for having come up with the name in the first place, as it now seemed grossly inappropriate. He couldn't have known things would work out this way, but that didn't stop him from tormenting himself about it.

Climbing along the terraces that lined the valley was treacherous in daylight, and the group moved slowly. A yawn slipped past Chase's defenses; the guards on duty pretended not to notice. Double shifts had become the norm, and the number of people caught sleeping on duty was embarrassing, but they were all overtaxed and trying to adjust. This new life they lived was far less forgiving than what they had known for most of their lives, and the people of the Godfist were a hearty folk who knew their share of hard times. What lay ahead looked grim, and everyone knew it. Even Master Edling seemed to see the need for unity, in his own haughty way. Messengers had been arriving nightly since the dragons first arrived, requesting refuge for a large number of citizens from south of the Wall. Chase knew it was a game of resources; that much he had learned from the Zjhon invasion, if nothing else. Every additional body in the hold was an additional body to feed.

"Knowing Edling," Morif had said to Chase, "he'll send us every person with a sniffle, cough, or rash in hopes that disease will wipe us out for him. Then he can just take Dragonhold for himself. He seems already to think it belongs to him." All his talk about Dragonhold belonging to the people of the Godfist sickened him.

Such cold realizations made Chase feel ill. These were his countrymen, in many cases people he grew up with or attended lessons with, and he felt as if he were abandoning them. In truth, he knew the Masterhouse could hold a large number of people, as could the cold caves. What he didn't know was how well or poorly the Masterhouse and cold caves had been restocked with supplies after the siege. If Master Edling and the council had been lax in their planning, then turning people away could be sentencing them to starvation. Of course, accepting too many could assign the same fate. Chase sighed.

The group had moved on, and he was no longer at his post. He hurried to catch up, and again the other guards pretended not to notice. Chase was their leader, their strength, and they all knew that double shifts for them meant triple shifts for him. Sleep had become something grabbed in the moments between crises, and tonight was little more than shepherding farmers with no signs of any threat. For Chase, it was an opportunity to survey the land and crops for himself, and if nothing else, escape from within that oppressive rock for a time. He'd never known himself to fear confinement, but living beneath a mountain of rock weighed upon his soul, and he longed for the freedom he'd once had.

Ahead, the terrace walls had been damaged, and great care was required to climb past the broken section. The earthen works looked as if they might slide into the valley under the group's weight, but they held. Beyond lay a section of ripe corn, essentially cut off by the damage on one end and a sheer face on the other. Chase felt trapped with the treacherous section as their only means of escape. He cursed himself for a coward, and when the clouds parted, he felt a bit better. At least with the light of the near-full moon and the comets, the trek back would be less of an issue. The herald globes provided consistent light, but they cast shadows, making climbing dangerous.

As a strong wind drifted down from the north, Chase looked to the skies. Dozens of comets cast their twinkling light across the sky, blotting out the stars so only the moon and comets could be seen. It was a strange sight to behold. For most of his life, in fact for thousands of years, there had been no comets in the skies. The prophecies had said they would come, and so they had. They also said Catrin would destroy the Zjhon and, in a way, she had, but what the prophecies said would come next made Chase quail. He had hoped it all to be fantasy, but the situation just kept getting worse with no signs things would improve any time soon. Perhaps he needed to accept the fact that it would get far worse before it got better-far worse indeed.

The farmers had gotten ahead of him again, and Chase was about to close the distance when he noticed something strange in the corner of his vision: light, then darkness, then light. As he looked back to the sky, he saw a pattern as something large blotted out the comets, and whatever it was grew larger with every passing moment.

"Get down," Chase said in a half whisper, half shout. A brief moment of pride filled him as the entire crew ducked down without another word. Many met his eyes, and he motioned to the sky, making his hands into the shape of flapping wings, now known as the sign for dragons above. When he turned his attention back to the sky, it was nearly too late. A blast of air pelted them as the massive wingtips came close to taking Chase's head off. He fell to his stomach and waited for the debris-filled wind to pass. When he stood, he braced himself and readied his spear. His men did the same without the need for command, and they waited for the attack to come. Instead what they heard was the snapping of trees and timbers followed by a mighty exhale.

"The beast has gone down on his own, sir. Should we move in and finish it off?"

"Bradley and Simms, with me. The rest of you, wait here."

The sound of labored breathing echoed on the wind, and Chase knew the beast still had the potential to be very dangerous. A wounded dragon could be worlds more deadly than a hungry dragon. More cracks and snaps echoed through the valley as the beast thrashed, accompanied by mighty roars that ended as grunts.