The L Word

The sun rose. They walked. Feet throbbed, lungs burned, muscles ached. The sun set. They stopped. Calen and Vaeril released the shields. They bound Tarmon and Erik's hands and legs, then Calen bound Vaeril's. Calen and Valerys alternated watch. They tried not to freeze.

That was how each day passed. Eight by Calen's count. Each worse than the last. Blisters formed on blisters. Skin burned, turning a pinkish red. Exhaustion racked them all. At least in the tunnels, Vaeril had been able to heal the small things as they went. But here, after hours of walking in the heat and the sand, holding wards in place over Tarmon and Erik, the elf barely had the strength to stand.

With each day, the pulsing thump that had called to Calen that night slowly faded, as though the source grew farther away. And each night, Calen was pulled into those living dreams. Never before had they come so frequently. Never so many back-to-back. Perhaps it was this place? It seemed to affect nearly everything else; to assume it could alter his dreams wasn't a particularly big stretch. It was definitely easier to believe than the idea that he truly was seeing into the past. But the dreams had started long before he set foot in the Burnt Lands – right after Valerys lost control in the tunnels. Could that have changed something?

Calen let out a sigh, shaking his head. Sweat dripped from his brow and formed a glistening coat across his skin, his lips cracked and dry. He looked up, watching as Valerys flew low, scales glinting in the sun.

"Are you two all right?" Tarmon stood on a patch of flat rock up ahead, sand blowing across his feet, his cloak billowing, Vaeril at his side.

Calen pulled his waterskin from his pack and nodded, taking a mouthful of the warm water. He was as well as he could be. His muscles ached from trekking across the sand, and they burned from the constant use of the Spark. Holding the shield around Vaeril's mind for hours on end, sometimes having to hold a second shield over Tarmon or Erik to take some strain off Vaeril, was taking its toll.

"I'm sorry."

Calen froze at the sound of Erik's voice behind him. He swallowed a mouthful of water, running his tongue over his lips to soothe the pain from the cracks, then replaced the waterskin into the pack. "It's all right, Erik."

"No," Erik said as Calen turned to meet his gaze. "It's not."

Erik and Calen had hardly spoken since the night the darkness had overcome Erik and the others. 'We needed a symbol, but all we got was a coward who thinks of nobody but himself.' His eyes were even darker and more sunken now than they had been then. He had cleaned the N'aka blood from his face and hands with water Vaeril had dragged up from under the sand, but it still stained his clothes, and it had only taken a day or so for dirt to accumulate on his face and in his hair.

"I already told you," Calen said, wanting the conversation to end. "I know you didn't mean—"

"I did."

Calen just stared back at Erik. That wasn't what he had expected the man to say. 'You let your family die.'"I mean… not all of it. Those voices got inside my head, twisted me. It was like a building pressure, a boiling in my blood. It took the tiniest thoughts and set them ablaze. You didn't kill your parents, the empire did. Rendall and Farda did. Ellisar died doing what he thought was right. Korik and Lopir died trying to get home – which was where you were trying to bring them. I'd be lying to you if I told you I didn't have doubts about what we're doing. If I told you I was sure trying to cross this place just to save one man was a good decision, and if we're going to die in here, I don't want to be lying to you."

Even with the Spark running through his veins, Calen's blood felt cold. His throat tightened to the point it was hard to swallow. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this. "Erik…"

Erik took a step closer. "I don't know if this was a good decision. But I'm here. I didn't know if it was a good decision from the start, but I came anyway, and I always will. Look, we don't need to cut our hearts open right here in the sand, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I…"

Erik's words faded to a dull hum as Valerys's mind collided with Calen's. An icy ripple swept over the dragon's body. Panic set in, burning bright. His and Valerys's both. Through the dragon's eyes, Calen saw nothing. The only sensation on his scales was the touch of ice. Unbridled fear followed. Calen's chest tightened, coils of dread twisting in his stomach. Calen spun around, frantically scanning the sky for any signs of his soulkin. Nothing.

A chill swept over him, every hair standing on end. Then Valerys was gone. Completely gone. Calen couldn't feel him, not his mind or his heart… or his soul. "No… no, no, no."

Valerys? Valerys? Please… please don't leave me alone.

Calen turned and ran. He ran towards the last place he had felt the touch of Valerys's mind. The muscles in his legs screamed at him, burning and aching at the same time, but he ignored them. Pain was inconsequential. Erik called his name, his words whispers caught in a storm. Nothing mattered but Valerys. Calen's heart hammered, his mind a tempest.

"Valerys!" Calen's throat scratched and felt as though it tore. His lungs stretched. "Valerys!"

What in the gods had happened? He had been there, and then he was just gone. "Valer—"

Calen slammed into something unseen, knocking the wind from his lungs as the world ignited in a brilliant white light. The same wave of ice crashed over him that he had felt from Valerys. Seconds passed, hours, minutes… it was impossible to tell.

Warmth flooded him, his knees hitting the ground, vibrations jarring his bones. His hands crashed down onto brittle clay as a thousand thoughts and emotions crashed into his mind, overwhelming him. Loss, desperation, happiness, warmth, relief. Valerys! He was whole again.

The bright light that had consumed the world faded, and in its place, stood Valerys. The dragon was completely unharmed, white scales shimmering, lavender eyes staring back at Calen. Valerys spread his wings and craned his neck down, pushing the flat of his head into Calen's chest, an all-encompassing relief flowing between them.

Calen clasped his hands on either side of Valerys's snout, resting his head against Valerys's. Calen closed his eyes, the tears of joy that rolled down his cheeks mingling with those of loss that had previously carved the path. "I thought I'd lost you."

A deep rumble resonated from Valerys's throat, echoing in the back of Calen's mind. Warmth flooded over from Valerys. Calen leaned forward, letting Valerys take his weight. He squeezed his hands against the horns that framed Valerys's jaw, once more whispering, "I thought I'd lost you…"

Two thumps sounded to Calen's left, followed by a third to his right. He kept his eyes closed, slowing his trembling breaths.

"By the Waters of Life… How is this possible?" There was more shock than awe in Tarmon's voice.

It was only then Calen realised he hadn't seen anything except Valerys. Nothing else had mattered. He pressed his head even more firmly against Valerys's. "I denír viël ar altinua." In this life and always.

"I never thought I'd be happy to see a Lorian banner."

Lorian Banner? Calen drew in one last deep breath, then opened his eyes and looked past Valerys. They stood on a wide cliff ledge composed of cracked clay and brown stone. Plains of broken earth sprawled two or three hundred feet below, patches of grass and trees sprouting in the distance. A huge square tower rose a few miles to their left, its stones a greyish black, its flat top ringed by crenelated battlements. The Dead Tower? Surely it cannot be… Calen turned his gaze further north.

In the distance, an enormous lake spread for miles, its calm surface glistening in the light of the sun that blazed overhead. Lake Berona.

Walls of white stone rose on the far side of the lake, sweeping for miles left and right, hugging the edge of the water. Massive rectangular towers with flat, open tops large enough for a dragon to land rose from the walls. Enormous banners hung from every second tower, rippling in the wind, their crimson colouring striking against the snow-white stone. The banners were too far away for Calen to make out any details, but the red and black could have been nothing but Lorian.

A number of buildings rose above the others within the city that was easily twice the size of Camylin. An enormous keep sat in the city's centre towered, upon a rise in the land. It was ringed by multiple walls and towers that were at least half again the size of the walls that surrounded the city. A city within a city. No, a fortress within a city.

Further to the northeast, a tower rose three times as high as any other in the city. It was so tall Calen couldn't fathom how it could have been constructed by mortal hands. A web of walkways and sweeping arches extended outwards from the towers' lower storeys, connecting it to the surrounding buildings. There wasn't a doubt in Calen's mind that was the tower they had come for. The High Tower, home of the Circle of Magii.

They made it. They had crossed the Burnt Lands.

"How have we come so close to Berona?" Vaeril asked, looking towards the city, then turning back to look behind himself.

Calen turned as well. Behind them, large patches of brown rock sat amidst an endless sea of sand.

Tarmon pulled out the compass Rokka had given them, shaking it in his hand, then checking the face. "It points true. Berona just a touch northwest of the Dead Tower. But we should have come out at least a week's travel from Berona, near Copperstille."

"Whatever darkness holds the Svidar'Cia clearly twists more than minds," Vaeril said, looking down at the compass. "At least, for once, it appears luck was on our side."

"Don't say it." Erik reached back and ran his hands through his sand-crusted hair, dropping to his haunches. "Never say the L word, Vaeril. As soon as you say it, you lose it." Erik let out a sigh. "Just promise me we don't have to do that again."

"We have to do it again," Tarmon said frankly, raising one eyebrow and shaking his head. "We have to get Rist, and then we have to cross again. You already knew this."

"I know, I know. Just let me enjoy the moment."

Calen gave a weak smile, trying his best to enjoy the newfound luck with the others, but all he could do was stare into the distance at the enormous city of white stone, crimson and black banners rippling in the wind, the High Tower rising above everything else.

We're coming for you, Rist.