“It is difficult to know, from the events transpiring around us, where in the timeline before the destruction of Alti Alurian and I have ended up. The season, the year, all unknown. But the path burned by the plague offers clues. The destruction must have come, after all, after record of its existence reached the mainland.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

It was not yet quite morning. In the half-light of coming dawn, which may as well have been night with the shadow of the trees over Libertia, there was no birdsong. The insects had quieted long ago, leaving the world trapped in the eerie hush of a time not quite day or night. There was no doubt by the hollowness of the air or by the color of flora and fauna that autumn had come, and it was too early for the heat of the sun to warm the chill breeze that whistled between the narrow, cobbled streets of the sacred city. Still, autumn in Libertia was as mild as summer. The biting edge of the chill came less from the air than from the city itself, whose stone walls seemed to grasp and cling to the frost that settled on the mosses in the early morning, and that reflected the gray skies with more rigor than the sun.

Three days Bek and Silver had worked with Olrier already. Three days they had pitted their skills, magic, and strength against the vampires known as Vespar and Urias. Bek knew that both vampires were lightning fast, one of them skilled in close combat, the other far. They were good men to have as allies, but also men that would require constant attention; it would take them only the blink of an eye to stick a knife in his back.

The two were also as different as night and day. Vespar was square-jawed and red-headed, boisterous and rarely caught without a grin on his face. Urias had hair so blonde it looked bleached, with soft features and a shaggy haircut that Bek suspected he had done himself. Whenever Vespar slapped a hand on Urias’s back – which he did often – Urias’s lips twitched in a smile. But he spoke more carefully, and more softly, than the other vampire, and his unusual blue-tinted violet gaze was unnervingly direct.

Now Bek walked with them down the hushed streets of the city, watching as they spoke to Illian in short, soft tones. Illian had come for him in the early hours before dawn, already flanked by the two vampires. Bek knew what Illian had come for before the man spoke. They were going to collect the Stones. Bek was surprised not by their task, but by the fact that Illian had chosen to bring him.

When they reached the front gate of the city, it was to find Olrier waiting alone, his golden eyes icy and hard as diamonds, even so early in the morning. “You know where you’re headed, I trust?” he asked, “Traes contacted me only hours ago. Your man is still alive.”

“Yes, and I will thank him when we meet,” Illian agreed. Olrier displayed the edge of one fang, a gesture similar to what Silver’s wolf would have done. It was strange to see it on a man.

“That would be for the best. May the keliarn guide you,” the vampire said, beginning to step around them to leave. Bek inclined his head slightly, eyes never leaving Olrier, and the two vampires did the same.

“Olrier,” Illian said instead, giving the vampire pause. He had drawn a thin, dark-bladed sword seemingly from the air itself. Olrier did not so much as blink as Illian held the sword aloft.

“You know this sword?”

“I do.” Olrier frowned more deeply. “Would your princess be pleased to know you’re threatening me?”

“It is no threat, Olrier.” The vampire looked at the man critically. The point of Illian’s blade now rested nearly at Olrier’s chest, hovering inches from the fabric of his clothing. His eyebrow rose ever so slightly. “It is a gesture of respect.”

Illian slowly turned the sword around, until the point was at his own chest, and the hilt at the vampire’s. “My princess, kuirsrinn of Alti, has given you her trust. Now I give you mine, as I once did her father.”

“Kind of you,” Olrier growled. He reached out so swiftly that none of them had a chance to react before he held the hilt of the sword in his hand and the blade to Illian’s neck. “I’m not the type to dally with a chest wound when there are so many easier ways to kill a man,” he warned softly, “you’d do best to remember that, human, if ever we meet under less favorable circumstances.”

He lowered the blade and stepped forward until his face was mere inches from Illian’s, sliding the sword home into the nothingness at the other man’s side. Bek watched the exchange warily, sensing the shift in both man and vampire’s magic. He allowed his hand to relax from the hilt of his sheathed dagger only when Olrier spoke once more.

“The Hurricane Blades, Illian, are a pair. Yet,” he blinked, “you only ever carry one.”

“A trick of the wind,” Illian responded coldly, and then the vampire was gone, walking back into the confines of the city. Illian shifted the weapon at his side. Sheathed it was only a hilt, and the blade itself vanished into open air. Bek knew the magic, beyond him though it was, that could perform such a trick.

He said nothing, and neither did Vespar and Urias, as they called to Skourett and Zarius. The two dragons came to land neatly in front of them, dark wings spread wide and nostrils flared at the scent of the vampires. Zarius was a darker ebony, the sheen of his scales bright with the oils the kivgha rubbed across their mounts’ glittering scales. It made them all the same dark color, so Bek had no idea the actual shade of Illian’s dragon.

Illian turned back to the three of them, his gaze distant, as he said, “We ride until we pass over the mountains. We’ll meet our couriers there, to the east. Since we’ll be taking every precaution to avoid detection, we’ll land on the north end and split up before we reach the coastline.”

The two vampires nodded in unison, and Bek strode to Skourett’s side and leapt up without hesitation; he knew his silence would be taken for acceptance. Vespar mounted behind him, warily seating himself between the lethal spikes on the dragon’s back. Bek was sure the vampire had never been astride a dragon before, but did not comment on it.

Not long after their arrival in Libertia, Bek had started work on a simple harness for use with the dragons. Cevora had influenced it, as had Holtson – they knew the designs the king’s dragonriders used, as well as the subtle improvements he should make. Skourett was used to it already, and so was Bek. He handed a length of rolled leather back to Vespar without a word – it was all that stood between them and a steep drop to the hard earth if they should slip off the dragon’s back midair. Then, with a last glance back towards the night-darkened city, Illian gave the command to rise. Skourett snorted softly. Bek rocked back as the dragon dug its hind paws into the earth and propelled itself skyward, black wings snapping open against the sky.

The trees parted around them. The sky opened up, brighter than below the canopy. In the skies, the wind was harsh, swift, and far colder than it had been on the ground. Bek called on his magic to warm himself, knowing that the flight would have been much more arduous for someone without the skill. It might even have been impossible. As it was, when the long night began to ebb into daylight and the dark ocean of trees below began to take shape and substance with the first rays of true morning sunlight, the dragons’ breath still frosted before them in a glittering cloud of ice. The earth below them slowly took on sharper relief – valleys stretched into the trees on every side, strewn with boulders as large as the trees around them. They were broken sometimes by rifts and fissures whose inner depths were still so heavily cloaked in shadow as to be invisible, or chasms carved by the passage of a laden river whose waters ran black as coal.

Time seemed to fly with them, rolling back the shadows cast by the mountains as the dragons drew near, revealing the frigid, snow-crusted heights they must pass over. Farther and farther, they chased the sun towards the sea. Miles upon miles of trees, and beyond that the bone-white beaches that glistened brightly beneath a baking sun, comprised a world that knew daylight hours before much of the Issurak. Along the distant horizon, the sky took on the shades of an upside-down rainbow, slowly fading into a calmer blue that reflected the ocean below.

Finally, Illian raised his arm, giving the visible signal to land. At nearly the same time, Skourett growled, “Zarius prepares to land.”

Bek said nothing in reply, and the great, crimson-streaked dragon turned its bronze eyes back on him and Vespar. A weary trickle of steam issued from its nostrils. Bek understood why. Truthfully, Skourett was not large enough yet to carry two passengers. One, maybe, but not two. Bek had said nothing to Illian only because he had expected the flight should be short and relatively uneventful, which it had been.

Skourett also needed the experience. For barely a week, Bek had practiced with the hatchling in secret, learning to keep his balance and communicate with the beast from its bony spine. This was something that Cevora – and clearly now Illian - knew. It had not been hard for Bek to convince the dragons to keep his practice from Silver; Seijelar treated her like the finest glass china in the world. The princess had also needed hardly any convincing. It seemed the dragon was not the only one who thought Silver was not yet ready to be back in the thick of things.

Clearly sensing the direction of his thoughts, Skourett turned away and banked downwards, scoping a smaller plain at the banks of a pond amidst the thick tree cover. It looked promising. Shielded on all sides by trees, and with a clear escape route to the open pond, there was a high probability the dragons would be safe to remain behind while their human and vampire counterparts performed reconnaissance on the ocean shores. The trees were tall enough to hide the dragons for several hundred feet should they take to the skies as well.

They landed and dismounted quickly. Within seconds, the two dragons had dawned their customary invisibility and were lazing in the rising sun.

“If you have need of us, call,” Skourett breathed, the warmth of the great beast’s breath rustling Bek’s hair, “I will rest. If it is necessary that I carry yet another human on our return, I shouldn’t move around much now.” Bek patted the dragon’s nose appreciatively.

“Vespar, Urias, take the south end,” Illian was saying to the two vampires, unaware of the striped dragon’s rumblings. “Bek and I will head north. Our couriers should be somewhere along the coast, just shy of the tree line.”

“Understood,” Urias agreed. Vespar nodded as well, before the two of them turned and began to pick their way through the trees and sand. Bek watched Vespar jog a little ahead of Urias, full of energy. The vampires were surprisingly lighthearted. They had no fear of the Issurak, it seemed, or of what they might find on the coast.

“With me,” Illian said, heading in the opposite direction. Bek followed behind him wordlessly. Their couriers, it seemed, had been instructed to avoid the Issurak for fear of the beasts that resided there. None of the beasts of Alti would be kind to visitors from Atlantis, since it was the Atlantians that had sullied their relations with the humans of Alti years in the past.

“Need I explain anything further to you, Bek?” Illian finally asked softly.

“No.”

Silence followed the exchange. Illian did not look at him, but had his eyes fixed outward instead. Bek followed his gaze across the sands of the beach. Thick with foam, the ocean waters lapped against the shores, leaving behind tangled ropes of seaweed that snagged against the wood and shells and rocks that littered the sand. He blinked and turned away, but it seemed the image had already burned itself into his vision. The pale driftwood, swathed in green and red froth from the sea, blazed beneath the morning sun, blindingly bright. Still, he had seen enough to measure the distance between the water and forest, and to know that they had an unobstructed view of the coast from where they stood in the shade of the scraggly trees at the fringes of the Issurak.

“We’ll pause here. As I thought when I saw it from above, the land forms a natural harbor…not enough for the larger ships, but enough to draw the eye of someone with some experience,” Illian suggested. The man turned to look at Bek then, and he understood why Illian had chosen to let the two vampires scout the other end of the beach together. Illian wanted to speak to him alone.

“I’ve been wanting to have a conversation with you, Bek, without Silver or Cevora within hearing. Without anyone you might change your answers for.”

Bek said nothing, meeting the older man’s gaze. Illian cast him an ironic smile. “You have an interesting mind, even for one of the MASO’s men. It’s possible only those of us who are the same, or who are trained to look for it, would recognize just who you are.” Illian watched him a moment longer, apparently deep in thought. “You have the eyes of someone who’s seen far too much.”

Bek said nothing, eventually walking to a mica-rich rock lodged into the earth at the side of a sand-trapped tree. He sat, leaning against the bark. From his vantage point, he still had a good view of the beach, and of the sea.

He had worked with men like Illian before, both above and below him in rank, and knew he could hide nothing from Illian’s gaze – that gaze had been fixed on him from the day he woke in a strange room in a strange world, just as it was fixed on him now.

Illian maintained the silence for several moments before he said, “When we met, you betrayed the MASO for much the same reason I betrayed my king. I did not question that statement. The time has come for me to question it.”

“You already know the answer, don’t you, Illian?” Bek said, eyeing him critically.

The man’s eyes narrowed in response. He reached forward suddenly, grabbing the collar of Bek’s shirt and pulling it down to reveal the skin of his neck and shoulders. Illian’s voice came out a sharp whisper, too fast to make out the words, but clear enough in its intent. Bek stared up at him levelly, bronze eyes shadowed, as ink slowly seeped from his skin, clawing up his neck in a choke hold, blossoming from twisting veins to the flared, flower-like vines of his family name. Illian stood motionless for a long moment, staring at the deeply etched ink, before releasing the collar of his shirt.

“You’re right. I do,” the man answered.

Bek smiled slightly. “The MASO’s justice is my justice. In the name of this mark, I’ve done my duty, same as you. I believe it’s called Seloriat in the Altian tongue.”

“The binding…,” Illian said under his breath. Then, more loudly, “You tried to leave, and you tried too soon. This was the result?” Silence. “You made a dire mistake.”

“I know what I did.”

“But not quite so dire as they made, or so you’ve doubtless decided. You kept Silver from them, one way or another, but that was recent, and I suspect as much her doing as yours. There must be more. Years more. You’re a traitor through and through, Bek Trent, and I only wonder that they haven’t seen it from the beginning.”

“They see what they want to see,” Bek observed.

“They,” Illian stressed the word, as if wondering who ‘they’ might be a century in the future, “see more than you know. How many good men have died for your revenge? How many secrets have you sold to see your superiors suffer?”

Bek’s eyes flashed as he flexed his fingers into a fist and then released them again, feeling the anger in him fizzle and cool with that one small action. “None. What punishment is there in losing a single pawn, Illian? No, no one will die for me,” he said coolly, “I aim higher. I will be indispensable. I will dismantle every secret the MASO keeps, do with that knowledge what I wish, and leave the organization gutted and crumbling.”

“Why not just escape? Hide. Live your life a nameless man. Free, in every sense of the word. Is that so difficult in your era?” Illian asked.

“In our time, Illian, things aren’t so simple. There’s nowhere to run, even if I had any intention of running. I want a normal life.”

This time, it was Illian’s turn to say nothing, leaving the two, boy and man, to scrutinize one another. Finally, Illian continued, “Cevora called on you to reveal Silver’ secrets. What are yours, I wonder? What are you to the MASO, really?”

Bek folded his hands above his lap, eyes forward as he rested his chin on them. “I work with three squads, investigating the most dangerous, the most obscure of crimes. In our time, they call us special investigators. We work with law enforcement, tracking serial murderers, vampires, witches…many times we’re called to step in where the loss of life would be too great if non-magic users were involved. The police don’t know who we really are. I’ve heard they call us the black badges, spook squad.” He smiled wryly. “In my free time, I see off the dying and the condemned. I look into their eyes, and I tell them that their life had meaning. I speak to their families, their friends, their loved ones. It gives people the illusion of being valued when the son of the director comes to them in their final moments. It is also my punishment…”

Illian stared at him, expressionlessly, waiting for him to continue. Bek did not.

“Among the condemned, how many were condemned by you alone,” Illian asked, dark eyes hard. “How many did you kill without the permission of your superiors?”

“One human, two magic users,” Bek refused to look away as he spoke, “one after he tried to kill me and nearly escaped. A second after he killed one of the men I was responsible for.” He ran a finger along the solid ink lines that were only slowly fading back into his skin. “One of them had killed almost a dozen children; one stole millions and put bullets through three or four people’s heads. It’s hard to regret seeing a couple of them die after hearing their rap sheet. Days or weeks from now, we’ll all do worse than I’ve done. When a man kills a man, Illian, it’s not the man themselves they kill, but death itself. Each of us, leveling our swords in the face of death and fighting it down. We follow that path and all we think, in our selfishness, is that it’s unfortunate someone else has to die so that we get to live. But we’ll do anything for that small chance, that sliver of hope, that we get one more day.”

“A truth hard-learned,” Illian said with a hiss, “though I would argue that no two of us see the killing of another person in quite the same light.”

“Fair enough.”

“Then what now? Even if you return to your own era, will the MASO have you back? I suspect you’ve lost your only opportunity to destroy them from within the way you wanted.”

“No,” Bek shook his head slowly, “Every law they’ve built, every rule, I’ll shatter and reveal it to the world. Through Silver. Through their own work.” He scowled, looking far out to the ocean as his eyes focused on something unseen and remained there, searching. “In our time as well, there is war brewing between the beasts and mankind. The only difference is, most of the world remains blissfully unaware that magic exists. Once war breaks out, the MASO will be unable to hide it anymore. Even on a global scale, the agency lacks the resources to deal with something so widespread. It’s been hackneyed together with other agencies and departments from the governments of various nations over the years in an ugly struggle to maintain authority over magic and its users. It has been divided, slowly, into a number of autonomous bodies, each bristling at the intervention of the other. Even in our small branch, upper management is packed with self-interested bigots, tolerated by the director for the price of paying into his research.”

“You believe they will have no choice but to welcome you home,” Illian summarized, “that you will know too much for them to let you go, and be too valuable for them to kill you.”

“Am I wrong?” Bek asked, meeting Illian’s eyes and trying to understand the dark light there. They mirrored his own.

“I don’t know enough, Bek, to tell you that. But it sounds as if the MASO has lost its purpose. How could my ancestors have let things go so awry?”

“Well, I’m the last of those you’ll have to worry about,” Bek said with a scowl. “My father’s dead. Our genealogy is not promising. Most of the Trents are either deceased or vanished.”

Illian’s grim frown turned grimmer.

“You say you’re the last of the Trents, and it was this director who sent you to investigate Silver. He’s also a Trent?”

“My grandfather.” Bek spoke the word coldly, and Illian noticed.

“That girl…you seem to think that she does not understand, Bek, and perhaps you’re right to some extent; she knows nothing of the MASO or its inner workings. Her knowledge of magic is limited, or so I’ve heard. But whatever you say, and whatever she believes, I have the sense she is deceiving us all.”

Bek dropped his hands from his chin, straightening and frowning questioningly. Illian continued as if he had not paused, voicing something that he had evidently been thinking about for some time.

“Take even a single example; if I had not called out and stopped her as she prepared her killing blow, Holtson would be dead right now.”

“No—”

Illian silenced him with a look.

“You say her memories are sealed, boy. You’ve lived with your sins, and you’ve formed your own virtue, just as I and many of the people of our time have done. People die, as you said, and sometimes we are the instruments of that death. What of Silver? If she has done terrible things, she has no memory of it.”

“The only terrible thing she’s done is get on the bad side of the Zara,” Bek interjected. Illian shook his head, the ironic smile in place again.

“For someone who sees so much, you’re so blind. Silver has compassion, but she’s not so different from the wolf who travels with her. For the nerske, who speak freely with the beasts, that might be inevitable. On the battlefield, she will be indispensable, certainly; although the dragons are the srinn of beasts, they command a diffuse force that lacks – for all that the beasts speak of kindness and betray human-like emotions – any hint of humanity. But I would not choose to put her there.”

“When she sees people she cares about dying, Silver will understand,” Bek said harshly.

“I’m not worried about her understanding.” Illian looked down at him, crossing his arms as he checked the position of the sun in the sky. “Ever since her fight with Holtson, I’ve been unable to shake that feeling…she showed no hesitation whatsoever. I am not blinded, Bek, by whatever assumptions you have about her based on your era. Silver has been taught to fight and fight to the death, and now she only has to remember how. I’m not sure what she is, nor that I could stop her if I had to. Cevora has noticed as well.”

Bek stared at him seriously for a moment, and then shook his head.

“I don’t see it, Illian.”

Illian turned away, narrowing his eyes against the glare from the sands. “Like I said, you’re blind to it,” he said after a moment. “The courier is late. We’ll have to head east if he doesn’t show up soon, in case he ran aground unexpectedly.” He looked up at the sun once more, and then back to Bek. “You can’t protect her from herself.”

Bek was silent.

“Have you noticed that there are no mirrors in Libertia?” Illian asked abruptly.

Anyone who knew anything of vampire lore would have noticed, and Illian must have seen as much in Bek’s expression.

“I asked Urias why. He didn’t seem keen to answer, but from what he said, it seems vampires see the evidence of their inhumanity in their reflection. Some say it drives them mad,” Illian continued.

“Silver lived in our world for nineteen years without a problem. Mirrors are everywhere, Illian, and she’s not a damn vampire. I’m telling you, you’re wrong,” Bek growled.

“This,” Illian said, pointing at the now barely visible black marks on Bek’s neck, “has grown weaker, hasn’t it?”

Bek stared at him levelly. “It has.”

“And for her, do you think there’s no possibility that there could be something similar going on? Few people can truly remove memories, only seal them. Has that changed in your era? Do you know, for certain, that she’s not bound like you are? If it was done well, no one would ever know. Even the most powerful spell casters in Alti would have a hard time finding evidence of such a spell.”

“Hah,” Bek sighed, running a hand across his face and leaning his head against it, hiding his expression from Illian. “Do you really think I haven’t thought of that? Even that wolf…nothing about Silver is normal at all. But she’s a healer, not a killer. A very extraordinary…healer.”

“What do you mean?” Illian looked at him sharply.

Bek started to answer, and then suddenly leapt to his feet as shouts erupted on the other side of the beach. The two looked at each other briefly, and then turned to the shimmering white sands. A group of six or seven people had emerged from the trees beyond the natural harbor, two of them clearly in the lead. Those two were scrambling over the rockier parts of the beach, sliding on the sands.

“Bastards,” Illian growled. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword, and the blade was slowly materializing.

“Persistent bunch, aren’t they? Traes looks like she’s having a hard time.” Vespar’s voice came from their backs.

Illian turned swiftly at the sound of movement behind them, and Bek deftly slipped the weapons he had made with Cara’s help from his pocket. He was relieved to see Urias and Vespar stepping from the trees behind them, each with a curved blade firmly in hand.

“Sorry to surprise you, Illian. We spied a ship in the distance,” Urias apologized, “and we came straight back this way.”

“We’ll have to step in,” Bek said, tilting his head in Illian’s direction. The man nodded curtly. In unison, they slipped forward, keeping out of sight at the edge of the trees.

“The dragons come,” Illian said when the four of them were nearly upon the two couriers, but had not yet been seen. “Zarius has no faith in my abilities.”

Bek nodded, but smiled slightly. “I’m sure. We can go for a swim with them afterward.”

Illian looked down at him, and his dark eyes glinted in the sunlight from beyond the trees.

“The eastern seas,” Vespar murmured, “are thick with sharks, I’ve heard.”

Then they were rushing forward. The two couriers spotted them and dove towards the trees at the edge of the beach. The roar of the ocean swelled as the waves broke on the shore – they were closer to the sea now, and it was harder to hear each other. There was no need for words, however, when two massive shadows rose up and overtook them. Those shadows shivered uncertainly on the sand in the instant before the dragons dove down from above, kicking up sand and flame.

Two of those who had been pursuing the couriers were instantly defeated. The other three, as Bek quickly counted, scattered at the sight of the two black behemoths, shouting new curses and drawing weapons that caught and reflected the glint of the sun. Within seconds, the vampires had pulled ahead and set upon one of them. Their blades swung high and wide, glittering in the sunlight. Bek stopped suddenly with Illian beside him. The sand was only just beginning to clear, but they could already make out the remaining two men who had managed to escape the dragon’s wrath. They had stopped, gesturing at the dragons and shouting.

“Ready?” Illian asked. “Draw your blade.”

“Don’t need one,” Bek said coolly. He slipped another of the teardrop metal panels Cara had fashioned with him out of his pocket. With the clink and chafe of metal, both expanded into dull-bladed rings. Without a moment’s hesitation, Bek tossed them into the air and said something incomprehensible beneath his breath. Green, serrated blades leapt from the metal, illuminated by the glow of magic alone.

One of the men spotted them then. Illian started forward. Bek gestured down with one hand, and both of the disks shot away, surpassing Illian and meeting flesh and bone like paper. The man who had noticed them fell within seconds. Bek drew his hand back again, like a bowyer testing the strength of their newest toy, as Illian moved in to take the second man, knocking him unconscious with the dull side of his blade. It was all over in seconds. Bek caught the disks one in each hand, waiting as the whirring of the blades slowed. Illian looked back at him, and then at the man whose lower hamstrings his blades had cut.

“He’ll live,” Bek said flatly, “if they hurry and treat his wounds. The cut’s clean, at least.”

“You’re one of a kind,” Illian remarked, sheathing his own blade. “Help the vampires tie them up.” He was already peering in the direction of the tree line, and in a moment, he started off towards it. Bek turned to look at the two dragons, who seemed to be contentedly watching over the unconscious men at their feet as the vampires picked through their belongings.

It was Vespar who turned and winked at him.

“The best goods are free, eh. These men won’t be needing this anymore,” the redhead said factually. Bek caught sight of something gold in the vampire’s hand.

“They must have a ship somewhere up the coast, but we’re noble enough to leave them that, at least, aren’t we, Vespar?” Urias said.

“We are, indeed. Go on, Bek. We can tie up the survivors.”

Bek considered the two of them for a moment – they were ignoring him – before shaking his head and turning to follow Illian up the beach.

“Meian!” Illian was shouting, waving a hand in greeting. The figure of another man stepped just barely out from the tree line, and waved back. Bek recognized him immediately; he was the same man who had reported to Illian in his home months ago, his hair grown to reveal an unmistakable russet beard and sideburns. There was a woman beside him, tanned so dark she blended in with the shade. Both were considerably soiled, their clothing dried stiff with salt stains from the sea.

Meian looked for a moment as if he would come to meet them across the sand, but then made a dismissive gesture with his hand and collapsed into a sitting position in the shade. “I thought they had it in for me, Illian,” he grunted as they approached. He was still breathing heavily, sweat beading on his darker brows. “They’ve had me up since I left the harbor, ‘s far as I can tell.”

“Then I’m glad to see you well,” Illian responded. Meian’s eyebrows rose slightly as he gestured to the woman, who glanced in the direction of Urias and Vespar before slipping a bag off her back and beginning to untie it.

“Aye. But not as glad as you will be to see what she has, I’m sure.”

“Don’t underestimate the value of a good man, Meian,” Illian said turning to the woman, “You must be Traes.” He was already accepting the deep ebony box she withdrew from the bag. It was nearly a foot long and another half-foot deep, its surface utterly unblemished, slick and glossy and dark enough that where the sunlight hit it, it only looked darker.

Bek recognized it immediately.

Seven hundred years in the future, he would hand it to Jack Weiss after pulling it from the charred ruins of Silver’s home. His stare was lost on the others. The woman, Traes, was nodding slowly. “And you must be Illian,” she said, her accent distinctive and, Bek assumed, Atlantian.

“That I am,” Illian agreed, examining the wood. He ran his fingers delicately across a cluster of silver flowers set in the base of the lid. Meian hmphed and laid back in the sand. It was only after several moments of silence, broken only by the sounds of the dragons and the other vampires animatedly chatting about something by the seaside, that Meian seemed to have finally regained his breath. The distant cries of seagulls made the beach appear far too peaceful for the violence that had transpired there moments before.

“You still have this one with you, I see. And the dragon. That must mean that the outpost’s up in flames, and good old Altin’s pressed to the edges of a bad temper. Where’s the princess?”

Illian frowned. “She’s with the others, in Libertia.”

“Libertia?” Meian said with some surprise. “You mean…that Libertia.”

“Yes. It hadn’t escaped your sharp eyes that your companion here is a vampire, had it? If so, I might have to ask you to retire.”

Meian barked laughter. “As if you could. Who else would go through all this damn trouble for you? Dragging my half-dead tail across that misbegotten city for the sake of something like that,” he gestured at the box. “I ask you, are the rumors true? Cevora kuirsrinn plans to renew the Agreements with the dragons?”

“They are,” Illian said, before glancing at Bek for a moment and returning his gaze to Meian. “I trust you’ve more to report to me tonight.”

“Aye.”

“Then so be it. Traes, you have our gratitude for what you’ve done. I will leave this to you to present to the princess.” Illian handed the box back to her, and the woman took it gratefully.

“The Altians have interesting new weapons,” the vampire said, glancing in Bek’s direction as she did so. “Very efficient.”

“Those are his design,” Illian observed. “I suppose we can leave your surviving pursuers alive. Someone should take word back to Atlantis that the Stones are again in Altian hands.”

“The news would be well received,” Traes informed them, “much of the populace demanded that they be returned months ago, but Sendelphon refused.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so based on how desperate those men were to catch you.”

“Bah,” Meian muttered, “They’re Turkish pirates. Gettin’ on the ship was easy enough, gettin’ off took a bit of work. Seems they’re not afraid of the plague. They’ve been taking Atlantian slaves to the Ottomans for a pretty penny; most people are clamoring to get off the island.”

“They believe the land itself is poisoned,” Traes agreed. “The pirates are opportunistic. I’m sure they’ll return to the Atlantian harbors long enough to spread rumors about us.”

“Well,” Illian said, peering down at Meian, “now that you’re here, I’m going to need you to run and take a look at Nersifral. The king’s wall has been growing at an alarming rate, and we’ll need weapons that can take down the best of its defenses in as short a time as possible. From the inside, if necessary.”

Meian tilted his head back and moaned. “Do I at least get a night’s rest? Do you know, I haven’t slept on a proper bed since I returned months ago? And the food…Atlantis may have been called the paradise city, but I can’t have paradise without beer. Is Gormin’s mum still working the brews?”

“I imagine she is,” Illian replied easily, gesturing for them all to follow him back towards the dragons. “Being one of the few foreigners on the island, she seems to have decided our menu is lacking. Our hosts have taken a liking to her cooking.”

“The vampires?” Meian ascertained. Illian ignored him as he started across the sand.

“If we head back now, we’ll make it with a few hours to spare before nightfall.”

Bek looked up once more at the vast blue sky overhead, remaining behind a moment as the others picked their way back towards the dragons. His fingers went automatically to his neck, where the black ink of his collar had faded away, leaving his skin pale and smooth and unmarked as ever. He was caught off guard when a wave of dizziness forced him to reach out to one of the scraggly trees, leaning against it. It was a long moment before he recovered, and even then, he held out his hand and looked at it in surprise. It was very slight, but…it was trembling.

His eyes narrowed as he clenched it into a fist and let it drop to his side. When he looked up, it was to see Traes looking back at him, her eyes – dark for a vampire – thoughtful. After a long moment, she turned to leave, saying nothing.

“Vampires,” he muttered to himself, trailing her across the sands, back to Libertia.