They were relentless, a daily barrage of begging, and to each and every one of them, Saska could only say ‘no’. She had to harden her heart to them, she told herself, but every rejection pained her. To see their desperate faces, the hands held together in prayer, grown men dropping to their knees as they wept for the loss of their loved ones. At first it had been Tantario who took their pleas, Tantario who gave the rejections, Tantario who they cursed, but Saska would not let that continue. She made a point now of being there too. “This is my decision, my fault,” she would tell them, in her broken, not-quite-fluent Aramatian. “If you’re going to blame someone, blame me.” And they did.

She had been hissed at, sworn at, heckled and even spat at once too. Sunrider Tantario had barked for that man to be taken and beaten for his insolence, but Saska told him ‘no’. He was venting, afraid, grieving. She could handle a bit of spit. Most just scowled at her though, muttering in their own accents and dialects as they left, never being told the true reason for their rejections. It was wretched work, and more than once Tantario had said she did not need to carry that burden. But to that she said ‘no’ as well. She would stand before every petitioner, every supplicant, hear every plea. Their anguish and their fury and their fear was her fuel. It reminded her of the importance of her task. I will stop this suffering, she would tell herself, as they hissed and swore and spat at her. One day, they’ll see it. They’ll understand, in the end.

The shadows of the hills were lengthening across the plains, stretching all the way toward the Capital Road as it ran northeast up the coast, thin as a strand of silk from here. She could see her host moving in their ragged column, a force further depleted by the terror at the river, trudging in a mournful procession.

Two dozen men, she thought, sighing. Each of them a brother or a friend to one man or another. They had all been affected by it, though none so much as the men under Tantario’s charge. Many of them had complained of the heat during their journey. Now they complained of the dead. Their brothers-in-arms were gone, slain by sand and shadow, and how long until they followed? Tantario continued to assure her they would escort her to the Perch, but perhaps it was time she let them go. She had the sellswords, and Rolly, and Leshie and Del, and now Talasha Taan as well. Perhaps that is enough, she thought. Maybe we should just take ship from here and brave the waves, as Robbert Lukar did.

“You seem distressed, Saska. What is it you’re thinking of?” Talasha smiled sympathetically. “I am sure you have much on your mind.”

A million things, and a million more. “As do you,” she only said. “We’re both being hunted, my lady. That’s a worry we share.”

“A worry, yes. And I understand my presence here is not accepted by all.”

“No,” Saska admitted. Talasha did not ride with them, but soared the skies, circling high above, watching for trouble and often finding places like this where she would rest and let the others catch up. Even at night she would remain apart, owing to Neyruu, who the men did not want around, and the beasts feared. “They wonder….well, some wonder…”

“Whether I should be here at all,” Talasha finished for her. “They fear I am an agent of Eldur, here to bring the doom.”

It was ridiculous, but true. “A few have muttered that concern, Sunrider Tantario says. I haven’t heard it myself, but he is very keen to keep me informed. Most think no such thing, though. They know you’re here to help, as you did at the river, but…”

“But they are concerned my mere presence will attract danger? Yes, I suspected that would be the case. That is why I try to keep my distance, Saska. If Neyruu senses any threat, I will be able to lead it away from you. This will give you time to escape, or go unnoticed.”

Saska breathed out a sigh, wishing she had a better way to thank her for her kindness. Talasha was a princess, and perhaps even a queen, and she should not have to spend her days circling the skies, acting protector like some common guard. That she had to deal with all this doubt and suspicion only made it worse.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” she told her awkwardly. She turned her eyes to the east, out past the coast and across the darkening sea. Out there, somewhere, the Telleshi Isles sprawled, a thousand drops of land in the ocean, some stark and tall and unwelcoming, others tropical and idyllic, with sandy beaches and quiet palm-fringed coves. “You could find a place to be safe out there, my lady, on the islands. You and Cevi and Neyruu. You could wait out the war in peace. Eldur may never find you.”

“And if the war doesn’t end? If the world only grows worse? No, Saska. I was meant to come here, to help you. King Hadrin saw it in the eye, what happened at the river. My place is with you.”

Saska nodded, looking at her toes, shifting her feet. Talasha was everything a princess should be, beautiful and kind and refined, a singer and a dancer and a linguist and a poet, educated to the highest standards, all that she would never be. Yet here she is, to serve me. It should be the other way around…

Talasha put a hand on her arm. Her touch was as warm as the summer sun. “There is a saying we have in Agarath,” she said. “The translation to the common tongue is not so elegant, but in essence it means ‘when the thrill dies, the path darkens’.” She looked at her. “Do you understand?”

Saska thought about it a moment. She had an idea, but shook her head. She didn’t want to sound foolish or get it wrong, not in front of Talasha.

The princess smiled as if she knew. “Let me explain, then. The thrill sets our hearts soaring. It sharpens the mind and tingles the limb. When in it we feel alive, but once it is done, and we stop, and it leaves us, our thoughts can turn to darker things.” She brushed her cheek with a finger, right by the corner of her mouth. “You were grinning up there, exulting in the flight. But here, beyond the thrill, your mind is growing full of doubts. It is better that we walk, Saska, and keep the blood from stilling.” She stood. “Come. There is a path I saw, down to the plains. You will feel better when you start moving.”

Beautiful and kind and wise, Saska thought. She stood and made to follow as the princess led her on.

The trail was an old goat path, most likely used by the herders when they travelled to Cloaklake and back from their farms among the hills. They took the path down, a narrow winding track that ebbed back and forth along a path of loose scree. Neyruu did not follow, though she unfurled herself and moved to the edge of the ridge, watching as they descended with those keen, intelligent eyes.

Saska felt better at once, less doubtful, more hopeful. A smile moved back to her lips as she reflected on the wonders of dragonflight. “Will you take me up again?” she asked, after a while. “I’d like to get to know the sensation more. I might fly myself one day, so…”

“Might?” Talasha stopped and turned to her. “I didn’t come here to help you for ‘might’, Saska Varin.”

Saska cringed at the name.

“You don’t like it?” Talasha asked. “You are Saska of the House of Varin, are you not?”

“So I’m told.”

“So you are. Again, why else did I come here? Well, to help fortify your sense of worth, for a start. You have to start believing in yourself, sweet girl.” She cupped her cheek and smiled. Talasha was barely more than a decade older than her, but somehow she had a motherly air. Older sisterly, more like, Saska reflected. Or perhaps like a young aunt.

“That comes and goes,” Saska admitted. “Believing in myself. Half the time I feel like I’m just wandering along through a dream I can’t awaken from. Day to day…everything feels real, but when I sit and think about what’s to come…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s just…a lot.”

“A lot can be broken down into little bits. That is what you are doing. Each day is like another block of stone, to add to the great fortress that is Saska of House Varin.” She smiled. “One day you’ll be a towering structure, and all will quell to look upon you. And the Windblade will be a part of that. I saw it in use, and that shard alone astonished me. I cannot imagine what you will become when you bear all five at once.”

A god, a part of her thought. It frightened her, the idea of wielding all that power, as it did what she’d be expected to do with it. “It may not come to that,” she decided to say. “There might be another.”

“Another heir? Did your mother have twins?”

“No, I mean…”

“I know what you mean. Lord Hasham spoke to me of your doubts, and your friend Leshie has as well.” She raised a brow. “She told me something else of interest too. About Elyon Daecar. You know him well, I understand?”

Damn you, Leshie. “We have…history.”

“Good history, I’m led to believe. She says that Elyon will be more than happy to yield the Windblade to you.”

Saska sighed. “Leshie likes to talk, my lady. Elyon and I…we care about one another, I think. At least…he did, before. Now…I don’t know. I’d hope that he’ll remember me well, but with everything he’s been doing, in the war, and…” She’d heard all about it. How Elyon had saved the princess and stolen back the Eye, how he’d slain all those dragonknights as easy as if he was carving up a cake. The gallantry of that, the depth of bravery and brilliance…Leshie had said she’d never heard anything so heroic, and even the Wall had been impressed. To Saska, it only made her see how far she had to go. Elyon was performing astonishing feats, and who was she to deny him that? “I just…I fear to ask him to give it up. And the others…his father.” She shuddered to think of it. Who was she to ask the great Amron Daecar, the Hero of the North, to lay down his blade for some slave-girl from North Tukor? And all on account of a grandsire who’d died two decades before she was even born? “When I think of all of that, I just…I struggle, Talasha. I struggle.” She had no better word to express it.

“I know you do, sweetling. But that struggle is not yours alone. We are all here for you.” She took her arm and gave a tug, urging Saska on.

They continued down the trail, walking through the dusk as it went from russet to red to purple. By the time they reached the foot of the hills, where they opened out into the rugged plains, the skies had fully darkened and a cloaked moon was floating in the skies. The road was long miles away from here, much too far to walk. “We’d best fly,” Talasha said. “I will take you back, and fetch Cevi. Then return here for the night.”

“Are you sure, my lady? Would you not like a bed to sleep in tonight? It’ll be safe in Cloaklake, Alym says.”

They’d heard as much from the travellers who had come from that way, at least. It seemed that civil order was being upheld in the city and there had been few riots, few occasions of looting and criminality, and no attacks from dragons or other creatures. Sunrider Tantario had said that he would see them hosted in one of the city strongholds, with fine views of the lake, and that for once they could all rest in featherbeds for the night and maybe, if they were fortunate, he would find a willing lord who would host them for a feast. That had cheered the men somewhat. How long it would last was anyone’s guess. Saska’s guess would be - not long.

“Thank you, Saska. But no. I would prefer to remain with Neyruu. I enjoy sleeping beneath the comfort of her wing.”

Talasha smiled and summoned her dragon, and they mounted up, gliding low and swift across the plains, the wind rushing through Saska’s hair. The sensation had her smiling again. After a short time, the company were sighted, gathered at a public well where a clutch of shops and inns had sprung up a half mile south of the city. Neyruu came down nearby, landing on the moonlit tundra, and they went the rest of the way on foot. When they emerged from the darkness, Sir Ralston stamped over. “You were gone longer than I expected.”

“We flew a while, talked a while,” Princess Talasha said. “All these men, Sir Ralston…I feel that Lady Saska is starved of female company.”

“Do not let the Red Blade hear you say that,” Rolly said. It was the first time Saska had heard him use Leshie’s self-styled nickname. “She likes to be the one to whom Saska vents.”

“Who says I was venting?” Saska groused. “Maybe we were talking strategy?”

“Were you?”

“Well…of a sort.” Saska looked to the others. The men were doing their usual investigations, talking with the tavern guests and inn-dwellers, hunting down travellers to gather up intelligence. She could not see Alym Tantario there, nor Leshie, nor Del.

When she asked of them, the Wall said, “Alym has gone into the city to see about those featherbeds. Leshie went with him, and some of the other sellswords. Your brother is training. Kaa Sokari took him…” He looked about. “I am not sure where. Further down toward the sea, I think.”

That was on the far side of the road, where some rocks and stands of trees clothed the coastline. Beyond, the waters glimmered beneath the moonlight, calmer than they’d been in a while. Saska thought she could see some shadows out there in the dark. Of late Kaa Sokari had been setting Del the challenge of firing blind, and in darkness, to better test his senses when striking for a target. Sometimes Sokari himself was the target, running about with a small wooden shield, shouting for Del to hit him. It seemed a little risky to Saska, but who was she to argue? Just so long as it was Del with the bow and Sokari with the shield, she didn’t have much cause for concern.

The Wall turned his eyes out to the gloomy plains. “So, how was it? Flying?”

“Good,” Saska said. Amazing, exhilarating, I wish I’d been born Agarathi, she thought. It would not serve to express that to Rolly, though. “I think it’ll stand me in good stead when I train with the Windblade.” When, she thought adamantly. When. Not if.