Chapter 1

Treya's POV

Treya stood, shoulders back and chin high, her small hand held firmly in her father's. She was wearing only a sleeping shift, her feet bare and her long, dark, red hair loose about her shoulders. The soldiers who grabbed her did not even let her get a cloak. She might not have minded her state; if it were not the dead of night, and she was not standing in the royal pavilion of the Trasten army. . As it was she fought to still the tremors that were caused by more than just the cold. Her father squeezed her hand and whispered her name. She wanted to look up at him and see him smile down at her, to let her know everything would be all right. But she had just turned thirteen and it was the time of her testing, her Crossover. She must show herself worthy of her position and her birthright; reacting as her station demanded, despite the ice in the pit of her belly.

"Redeen Cail," the stocky man on the raised platform sounded amused. "I never thought we would see you thus."

Treya felt her father stiffen. These men were their enemies. They were responsible for the destruction of her people's homes and farms and lives. They felled trees across narrow roads in the dead of winter and flooded or burned farm lands ripe with crops. She judged those before her while they judged her father.

Four men stood on the platform. The speaker, an old gray haired man with a thick beard, paced the very edge of the platform. His eyes, hard and dark, never left her father. She did not like him, his high pitched voice or his glare. Behind him stood another man with gray hair. He was tall, lanky, and thin, like a begging dog. His eyes darted from face to face and like the dog he resembled, Treya did not fear him, but she did know better than to trust him.

The other two were young men. Only a few years past their own Crossover. Near to but not yet grown men. Both were dark and tall. One was heavily built with the start of a new beard. The other was more like the men of her father's camps, shaven and lean. His eyes were sharp and Treya could see that they glinted sky blue in the torch light. She could see them well because he stared openly at her, watching her intently.

"A proud man even in the end Redeen? Now that I have you here, I thought we would talk. Yet it seems you still don't trust me."

"And you blame me?" Redeen asked. Without warning a lash fell sharply across his back rending cloth and flesh. Treya started, then sobbed once before biting hard at her lower lip.

Draystin's POV

Draystin flinched at the sound of the whip. Why the child had been brought here with the prisoners only his father, Lord Jesset, knew. From his place behind his father he watched the girl struggle to control herself, and it angered him. She should not be forced to endure her father's humiliation. She definitely should not be present in a council of war; barely dressed with her hair down. He felt the shame his father and the others apparently lacked as well as the embarrassment the girl was either too frightened or to shocked to show.

Old Lord Redeen held up well, his eyes blazing across the frigid marble tiles at Jesset. His back straight and his chin held high. He refused to bend to defeat. Whatever else Draystin's father had told them about Andavan's Lord, Redeen seemed an honorable man. In the very midst of his sworn enemies he set aside his ego to comfort his daughter. Draystin could not imagine his own father doing the same for his brother, Jaden, or himself, let alone his sister Karla. He knew Andavan's ways to be different from his own but all the same, the old Lord's defiance earned him a measure of respect from Lord Jesset's second son.

"You have no manners even now? Redeen, do you realize the power I hold over you? Your life, and the lives of those around you are mine to command. No man here would hesitate to carry out my orders if I wanted you dead," Lord Jesset mocked.

"Yet I still live." The lash fell again. Redeen flinched as did his daughter, but neither made a sound.

Jesset muttered to himself. Draystin caught his brother's glance and they both stepped forward. Lord Jesset Tra Marul, first son to Prince Roliar of Sanirvin, stepped off the platform and crossed the marble tiles. The brothers knew first hand their father's temper and feared he might do something rash in the presence of sixteen of Lord Redeen's most loyal captains; men who would sacrifice their own lives to avenge their lord. Jaden signaled to the guards to get their attention, not that any had been lax. Jesset stormed at Redeen and the latter yanked his daughter behind him. Draystin found his anger shift suddenly. Lord Redeen could not possibly think Lord Jesset would harm the girl. This was a war of men not some feudal blood bath.

Lord Jesset laughed. "The child will become my ward. You can no longer protect her. You no longer have any heirs." All pretense of civility vanished from Jesset's voice as he thrust out his hand. "Hand her over."

"Not while I live!" Redeen was in motion before the words left him. Draystin saw the attack unfolding, slowed ten times. He saw his brother moving, but the suddenness with which Lord Redeen launched himself at Lord Jesset stunned everyone. Draystin caught the glint of metal in the old lord's hand. Jesset had come too close and Redeen easily closed the gap. Knowing he had only one chance, Redeen brought the knife in low and close in an underhanded strike. Draystin watched the blade sink into his father's gut.

In return, Jaden's blade caught Redeen in the side, between the ribs, but that did not slow Redeen. His dagger having already found it's mark, and his own life forfeit, all that mattered to Redeen was finishing the deed.

Jaden twisted his blade to widen the wound before wrenching it out of Redeen. Jesset gasped in pain and Draystin dropped his sword to catch his father. Jaden then slammed his shoulder into Redeen and brought the hilt of his sword up into the man's jaw. Redeen crumpled to the floor even as did Jesset.

"Father?" Draystin prayed to Keth, the soldier's God, that his father was not mortally wounded.

"Let off boy," Jesset hissed. "Hold!" He commanded as Jaden and six guards advanced on Redeen. With unsteady steps Jesset stood and passed through the ring of guards. Explosively he kicked the small dagger out of Redeen's clenched fist. The blade clattered across the tiles. "That was stupid! I was willing to grant you a swift and painless death." Again he kicked at Redeen. This time the booted foot struck at the other's bleeding wound. Redeen coughed spitting up dark blood.

"My duty is done Jesset. I have taken you with me unto death." Redeen spat out more blood.

In the silence Draystin looked to the girl frozen in fear. Wide eyed and pale, her hands were knotted in the fabric of her shift. Lord Redeen's men stood in disbelief. Draystin turned to see his father look down at his own blood covered hand.

"The blade's tainted." Redeen could say no more. Jesset fell upon him unmercifully with kicks. Face, ribs, groin, nothing was spared in the assault.

Treya's POV

Treya looked on in horror as the mad man took pleasure in beating her father to death. Bones cracked and the sickening wet sound of her father's gasps drove her to tears. Still she refused to cry aloud. She recalled his words to the soldiers only the day before.

"You are all warriors! Many may die in the battles to come. Each man has a role to play, and each has a place in Keth's plan for this war. Mourn not for the loss of the fallen. Rejoice in the sacrifices made. Andavan will triumph!"

Even as his blood was smeared across the gaudy marble tiles, Treya fought to find the courage to rejoice in her father's sacrifice. Suddenly the blue-eyed youth stood before her. He grabbed her arm with a rough hand and hauled her away from the butchery of her father.

"Father!" she cried.

"Silence child!" Draystin said.

She shot him a defiant glare and jerked her arm free. With an ancient curse he caught hold of the neck line of her shift and twisted, cutting off her thoughts of escape as well as her ability to breathe.

"Listen, girl." His face came within inches of hers, eyes intense and his face flushed with anger. "Your life may depend on your cooperation, so don't fight me."

Treya saw something in his face. Fear? Horror? Shock? She wasn't sure what, but his concern for her was real. She acquiesced. They were nearly to the edge of the tile when a voice called out.

"Draystin, bring that child to me."

"My Lord." He turned her around and marched her back. Treya fought to keep her steps steady. "This child does not belong here, in a council of war." She heard contempt in Draystin's voice but it sounded false, contrived.

"Your sense of propriety is honorable son. But as her father yet breathes, I want him to know his daughter saw him in his death."

The hand in her collar eased up and slid to the back of her neck, controlling her and yet oddly comforting. The cloying sent of blood from her father's body nearly choked her.

"See your father, girl? See how he grovels before me? Get a good look." Jesset grabbed her arm and forced her to her knees at her father's side.

"Treya," Redeen whispered past broken teeth. She gagged on her fear but leaned closer to hear him. He caught her gaze with his own. His resolve burned bright in those half swollen eyes. "Kant rien toer Asteryllen. Kant ven da ane Andavan. Silinii tessita Qor Treya Ali Cail."

Those words, spoken in the most ancient of tongues, reached no further than Treya and her unexpected protector, Draystin. The ancient oath of power and destiny, placing Treya on Andavan's throne, was forever binding once spoken aloud. Treya was one of the few people in the tent who knew that ancient language, but not the only one.

"What! What did he say?" Jesset demanded. "Speak, child! Now!"

Treya looked up, not at the raving old Lord but across at the men who were closest to her father. The men who were bound to Andavan. General Maray caught her eye and bowed his head briefly. Treya's voice rose powerfully as she spoke the words of ritual that would bestow upon her the Fate of Andavan. She felt the magic build.

"Kant rien toer Asteryllen," a light breeze gutted at the torches lining the pavilion. "Kant ven da ane Andavan," a warm tingling prickled her skin. "Silinii tessita Qor Treya Ali Cail." Treya had been instructed in the ritual of Andavan Lore as a small child. She knew as fact what would occur, but when the last word fell from her tongue she was unprepared.

Outwardly, nothing happened save that those men loyal to Andavan mounted a cheer, a raging yell that drowned out all other sound. Most knew they would die soon and were proud to see Andavan's new ruler properly brought to power.

"For Andavan! Hail Treya Ali Cail!" The cry rang four times as the ritual required. Treya could see Lord Jesset shouting in the sudden silence as her father's... no, her men stood defiantly, resolute, proud, and free. Only one thing remained left undone. She touched her father's hand and stood slowly. She was terrified and unable to still the shakes that threatened to undo her. Maray still held her gaze and he smiled.

"Go on," he mouthed.

"Andavan!" she shouted. The word echoed back to her from the men across the pavilion and from the thousands of kings and queens of Andavan from across time. Then Treya's world went black.

Chapter 2

Draystin's POV

Draystin caught the child as she fell. He knew the ancient language she had spoken. He had known precisely what she was doing but for some reason he didn't try to stop her. Now as his father ordered Lord Redeen's men killed, he wondered what strange fate had been set into motion.

Redeen's men did not patiently await their deaths. The moment Treya fell many of them turned upon their guards, the rest stormed the platform. Hendly, his father's advisor, was shouting for Jesset to withdraw from the floor.

"Father!" Jaden shouted. There was no response. "Draystin, get that child out of here!" Jaden's order was punctuated by the clash of steel and Draystin remembered he'd dropped his sword. Lifting Treya into his arms, he dodged the melees that were more the slaughter of unarmed men than combat. At least the girl was spared seeing that. His anger flared again and his steps came hard and fast across the grounds. How could his father subject this girl to such a horror? Yes, she was the daughter of their sworn enemy but she was only a child. Forcing her to face her father like that sickened him. His own father's actions left him feeling cold. Halting in his steps, he wondered where he was going and what he would do with his prisoner. Recalling his father's words to Redeen that the child would be his ward, Draystin made his decision and turned for his family's tent.

Old Tonfor met him in the outer chamber. "My Lord?"

"This child is Redeen's heir and now a ward of Lord Jesset's. We need someone to care for her and watch her."

Tonfor thought for a moment scratching his bald scalp. "Bring her here my lord. Settle her in my room and I'll fetch the Lady Elrah."

"While you're there send Master Beltanis to the Pavilion. Lord Jesset is wounded."

"Yes my Lord, with all haste!"

The old retainer was gone leaving Draystin to lay the child on the straw mattress. He found her staring up past him. Her eyes, open and yet unseeing, unnerved him.

"I'm sorry about your father, child," he told her, thinking she must be in shock. Settling her into the blankets he felt something bound to her wrist and pulled up her long sleeve. Strapped to her arm was a slim knife sheath, one side empty, the other still holding a well crafted throwing knife. Voices in the outer chamber moved him to act. Swiftly, he unbuckled the sheath and slipped it into his belt. A dozen questions thundered through his mind and he pushed them aside. The heavy curtain parted and the Lady Elrah, matronly and plump, pushed into the room followed by another woman Draystin didn't know.

"My Lord, your father is being carried this way. Some ill has befallen him I fear," she curtsied.

"So I had feared Lady. This girl is the Lady Treya. She was Lord Redeen's heir and is now my father's ward. Care for her well and be watchful. I fear she is in shock from the events of the evening," he said.

Lady Elrah checked her color and felt her wrist mumbling about how cold the girl was. "We will see to her Lord, you need not worry."

Feeling dismissed Draystin went out to find the tent in chaos. Four guards carried his father in on a stretcher. Jesset was pale and sweaty, his hands clenched at the hem of his cloak. Jaden and Master Beltanis came fast on the heels of the guards.

"What happened?" Draystin asked.

"The knife wound, I think. Though it doesn't look that bad. He fell as we finished off Redeen's men," Jaden said.

"The knife wound?" Draystin had seen his father fight an entire campaign with far more serious wounds. Draystin put his hand to his belt. "No!" he gasped. "Redeen said the blade was tainted!"

"Keth protect him," Beltanis swore. "We have no time. Set him down. Lords, help me to strip him. I need cold water and towels, and I need a pot of water set to boil. Hurry!"

Draystin and Jaden disrobed their father. His skin was hot to the touch and his pallor was distressing. He moaned each time they moved him.

"Father, do you hear me?" Jaden asked. There was no response. The brother's eyes met, knowing things had become serious. Their father's sure victory was fast becoming a tragedy.

"Lords, over here. Take these and cover him but leave the wound uncovered." Draystin took an arm load of cold wet towels back to his father while Jaden told Hendly to assemble Jesset's council.

The remainder of the night became a blur. Hendly retold the night's events to those who hadn't been present, while the healer worked to combat Lord Jesset's grave condition. It wasn't until Tonfor led him by the arm to his rooms that he realized how tired he was. He had to think carefully about each step. Light pierced through a hole in the canvass of the tent showing the sun nearing its zenith.

"Wake me if he gets worse."

"Yes, my Lord." Tonfor pulled Draystin's boots off and took his sword belt and scabbard from him. "My Lord, where is the blade?"

"I dropped it in the pavilion." Draystin confessed, barely caring.

"I'll fetch it my Lord, never you mind. You need rest and I'll come for you if your father's condition changes." Draystin fell fast asleep before Tonfor ever left.

Treya's POV

Treya woke with a start to the clamor of voices. Men shouted and somewhere a sword struck a shield repeatedly. The voices died down but were not silent. Glancing about the unfamiliar room, she tried to recall where she was. Above her was the high slanted canvas of a large tent. The heavy tapestries that divided this room from the rest were rich and detailed, the blankets tucked about her, soft and musty smelling. This was not what she expected as a prisoner. From beyond the curtain came a shout, a mixture of anger and pain.

"Told ya he wouldn't be much pleased."

Treya twisted at the nearness of the speaker. Two women pressed their faces to a gap in the curtains. One woman had snow white hair, and the other dirt brown. Both wore their hair tightly coiled atop their heads.

"He cannot speak to Lord Jaden that way now!" the younger one said.

"Hush! Lord Jaden has not been crowned yet. They are still brothers and near in enough rank but Lord Draystin would never exceed his place. And Jaden must live long enough to be crowned."

"Lady Elrah! Are you saying Lord Draystin would challenge his own kin, a brother of his own blood?" the young woman's face went ashen.

"By the protector Cashia, no! But remember the Lords are young and each has his own advisor and supporters. The struggle for power is mighty now. One side may conspire to do away with the other." Elrah explained.

"And which Lord do you side with?"

"Laenna, I am too old to take sides in something I can not have a say in. I have helped to raise both those boys; whipped a backside or two as well. Both are born to lead. Lord Jesset knew that." Lady Elrah lowered her eyes to the floor then glanced to see Treya staring at her.

"Dear child, you should have said something. I am Lady Elrah and this is Laenna. Lord Draystin called you Lady Treya?" Lady Elrah made herself busy about the room.

"Treya is fine." The title chilled her.

"Oh dear, no. It is not fine, Lady Treya. You are of royal blood, a lady of the court, and as Lord Draystin said, a ward of Lord Jesset's. You will not be addressed without a title as a common servant or peasant."

Treya bit hard upon her already abused lip and fresh blood flowed. The night's events flashed back at her.

"Dear Lady! What distresses you so?" Elrah hurried to the bed side.

Treya fought hard not to cry and turned away from the comfort of the concerned woman before her. Crossover demanded it. At the age of thirteen a child was tested for two full moons. Those who passed were thought of and treated as adults, those who failed waited two more years. Treya's first moon was two days away. She would shed no tears. She would seek no comfort. It was bad enough she had allowed tears to flow in her father's sight last night, but she had not cried. And when her father had touched her wrist sheath she had passed him the dagger. She knew what he would do with it and the dangers, yet she had done her duty.

Lady Elrah patted her hand and offered her soothing words, but Treya did not hear them. Beyond the tapestries and the curtained doorway the voices again rose in anger. Again the sword beat upon the shield bringing them back to order.

"Lady Elrah, he comes!" Laenna said rushing to the bed.

Elrah wiped the blood from Treya's lip with the blanket and would have pulled her from the bed but the curtain was swept aside. The dark haired young man with the sky blue eyes entered. He wore the same rumpled tunic from the night before but now it bore dark brown smears. His eyes were clouded and dark, and his hair was uncombed. Treya wondered how long she had been asleep. Briefly, she wondered if he had slept.

"Why is she not dressed?" he growled. "It is well after midday, and here her food is untouched. If you would rather not serve me Lady, or follow, my orders just say so. I can find another!" He waited with hands on hips and his jaw jutting out.

"My Lord Draystin! She only just awoke; confused and frightened and you swagger in here as if to battle a bull?" Elrah paused. "No my Lord, I would not wish to serve another. I know when a child needs rest and she needed it. As did you."

"Lady!" His face darkened.

"Forgive me, my Lord Draystin." She bowed her head as she spoke.

"Lady, I am indeed tired and you are not the source of my anger. You," he turned to Laenna. "Bring me a platter of whatever is left from the midday meal. Lady Elrah, please dress the Lady Treya. I have need to speak with her." He stepped back to the curtain and hesitated, then turned and with a slight bow said, "I will return Treya Ali Cail," and he was gone.

"Hurry, Lady." Elrah pulled her from the bed.

Treya followed, not hearing the woman's pratter. Lord Draystin had spoken her title with the perfect inflection of one used to speaking the ancient tongues.

Draystin's POV

As he swept through the great room Draystin avoided the two camps of men that had once been his father's advisors. One camp was now his brother's and the other his. Always content to be his brothers right hand, Draystin wanted nothing to do with those who wanted to curry his favor. His mother had bade him never to war with his brother and he planned to honor that promise. Jaden was heir, by right of birth.

He knew his outburst at the council table over finding no one had sent for him when his father had died, and that Jaden was holding a near full council without him, would only fuel the belief that Draystin might have plans for the crown.

His dark scowl and determined stride deterred those who would have stopped him. Plowing through the curtain into his room he found Tonfor bent at oiling Draystin's sword. The old man's head snapped up and his eyes went wide as he fell to the floor.

"My Lord."

As angry as he was, he knew Tonfor was not at fault. "Get up, man. I have told you before not to do that and I am not in the mood."

"But I failed you my Lord." Tonfor remained prostrate.

"I know it wasn't your fault. Now don't defy me of your own will." Draystin sighed forcefully.

Tonfor scrambled to his feet. "How may I serve you my Lord Draystin?"

"Finish what you were at," he pointed to the sword. "I have shamed the blade and deserve the thrashing Marketh would give me for such a careless act."

"My Lord..."

"No, it was mindless. I was unarmed when in the presence of my father's enemies." He stripped off his soiled tunic as he expressed his rage at what was more than the careless treatment of an ancient weapon. Tonfor made a move to help him but Draystin waved him back to the sword he tended with the reverence Draystin lacked.

"You know what hurts more than anything? The men who last night called me to their fires to share tales of deeds and conquests will not dare to look at me today. But I hear them call to my brother." In silence he slipped over his head the only black tunic he had brought on the march. It was more a fighting vest, tightly cut with short sleeves. Not as proper as he would have liked, but suitable for mourning. When he finished with the lacings, Tonfor presented to him the amber and amethyst encrusted hilt of a distant, and long dead, grandsire's sword.

"The sword of Danvan Asteryllen, called Syesin Kep. The Fall Keeper. I do not deserve her, Tonfor. I never have." Slowly he sheathed the blade.

Tonfor touched his wrist only briefly. "Of all the ancient swords of

power in Trasteten's Keep, this one chose you my Lord Draystin. The jewels of that sword have held the light only once in my life time and I have seen six Lords take weapons from the Keep at Crossover. While Lord Jaden may take the crown he does not bear a sword of legend."

"Tonfor, enough! I get that from others. I'll not have you thinking my brother less fit to rule as well," he glared down at his father's man. "You should be attending Jaden, not me. You have always been the Lord's Man."

Tonfor's face hardened and he cast his gaze to the floor. Draystin heard him speak but the words were mumbled.

"What?" he demanded.

"I went to him, my Lord Draystin. He turned me away. I am too old."

"Tonfor." Draystin's mouth gaped. His anger at court politics fled as he heard this once proud man beg with unspoken words not to be turned out. "You have always served me when I asked. I will not dishonor my father by turning you away. You may read the ancient lore to my sons when I reach your age."

Tonfor dropped to his knee before Draystin. This time the young lord didn't stop him, instead he held out his hand accepting the homage being offered.

"Now can we go? I need to speak with the Lady Treya."

"Yes, Lord Draystin."

Standing before Tonfor's room he remembered his manners. "Lady Treya," he called.

Lady Elrah pulled opened the curtain and bid him to enter. In the short amount of time he'd been gone Lady Elrah made to prove she was truly loyal to him. She had a table had been set for the meal. And the child, he stopped. Taking a slow breath, he bowed formally to the Lady before him. She too was wearing black. A simple dress, fitting for her age, yet she did not look the child of thirteen he knew her to be. Her hair was tightly braided and wrapped up in a court fashion that distracted him far more than seeing her long hair cascaded about her the night before. She scowled with her brow creased and her mouth turned down. Her lower lip was split and the teeth marks were obvious.

"Treya Ali Cail. I am Lord Draystin Artirn Marul. We were not properly introduced before and that was my fault. I hope you can forgive me," he paused dropping some of the formality from his stance." I am sorry for your loss my Lady, I truly am."

"And I for yours," she said coldly, catching her lip again.

He stiffened, "So, you knew?"

"And you did not?"

"War is an ugly business Lady," he offered her a chair.

"I am no stranger to war Lord Draystin." She stood firm, not yet ready to accept his hospitality. He met her glare and saw her hands flutter uselessly at her sides.

"If that is so, then you understand the need to eat when there is food before you." Leaving her to decide her own mind he deftly unbuckled his sword. A gentleman never ate at a Lady's table armed for battle.

"Syesin Kep," Treya whispered in awe.

"What?" Draystin caught the fleeting look of surprise on Treya's face.

"That sword!" It hung caught between Draystin and Tonfor, the hilt reflecting the torch light like a hundred campfires. The girl tried to cover her surprise by narrowing her eyes. She wanted to look away but the light caught her and drew her closer. She spoke in the oldest of the ancient tongues. The same one she had spoken in the pavilion. She spoke as if from a dream. She spoke of a Lore she didn't know she knew.

"Fall Keeper. Protector's blade. Hidden behind the water's cascade. Lost to Andavan until enslaved."

With his mouth hanging open, and his eyes caught in the green gray depths of hers, he felt those words resonate within him. Cautiously, she crossed to stand before him. Her attention shifted from him to the sword. Her delicate hand reached out.

"No!" he snapped, slapping at her hand.

"You can't have it! The Syesin Kep belongs to Andavan. It belongs to my people!"

"You have no people," he shouted. "Andavan is dead, her Lord lies dead, her hope is dead. Trasten now rules Andavan." Draystin watched the hesitation on her face. They had both been through so much. "I advise you sit and eat while you can." Draystin handed the sword to Tonfor. Whether she chose to eat or not was her decision, he was in no mood to force or convince her of the need to do so. He certainly didn't feel like eating, the barely warm stew with white globes of fat clumping to the surface. It was almost enough to turn his stomach.

At the edge of his vision he caught Lady Elrah motioning to the girl. Treya's gaze remained locked on the sword, her brows furrowed and her lower lip was again caught in her teeth. He thought for an instant about his sister, Karla, and what she would do in Treya's place. The two girls were the same age. He knew for certain that Karla would not be as strong. Given as she was to hysterics over the tiniest of things, this would put her in a panic. Draystin felt his earlier compassion for Treya suddenly return.

"If you won't eat will you at least sit down? Today is almost gone and we will be heading back to Trasteten in the morning," he said lightly. "If there is no trouble from your father's soldiers," he added.

"My soldiers!"

"My Lady..."

"I rule Andavan." She rigidly refused to look at him.

"You can not rule a land you will never see again," his voice was strained. It seemed she wanted to cry, her whole body shook with the effort to contain herself. "It is all right to cry, no one will fault you."

"No, its not all right. This is my time of Crossover and I'll not give you or anyone else reason to fail me."

"Crossover? That's for young men not girls," he said gently.

"Is it? And I suppose your women don't use swords and must ride in those confining side saddles?"

Elrah covered her mouth to hide her strangled gasp and Draystin feared she would faint right there. Of course, he knew that the way of life was different in Andavan, but those weren't minor issues of decorum. Women did not ride and they were forbidden to touch weapons of any kind.

"You don't believe me? The sheath you took from me is tooled with my name and the daggers are fitted to a woman's hand, my hand." A grin spread across her face. "My father knew no one would search me if I was captured so I never took the sheath off. That was my idea! It was his idea to poison the blades. It was my blade that killed your father. It was by my own hand that I helped to destroy my people's enemy." With an air of triumph she sat in the chair opposite him.

Draystin closed his mouth and pulled the sheath from the waist of his breeches. "Yours?" She nodded. Cautiously he pulled the remaining dagger. The whitish swirl of a thick oil coated the metal. "Besker Oil," he said casually. "Very deadly but easily neutralized, if caught in time." His father could have done something, other than carry out a revenge that killed him. Lord Jesset Tra Marul may have been a great leader but Draystin knew his temper had defeated him too many times during the war with Andavan. He found Treya studying him, her eyes a penetrating green.

"I am just as dangerous as my father, maybe more so," she boasted.

Draystin's laughter rang out loud and harsh. It was a mocking sound and Treya flushed dark red. "Child, you will be a danger to no one but yourself in the house of Trasten." All hints of humor vanished as he stood and reclaimed his sword. "Listen well to Lady Elrah, do exactly as she says and you should arrive at Trasteten with most of your hide. Good evening, Lady Treya." He turned to Elrah and spoke as if Treya were no longer in the room. "Instruct the child in the proper behavior for a lady of the court, and don't spare her if she acts out. I will assign Captain Trakota to guard her. If she causes any problems," he glared at Treya. "I will chain her with the other prisoners and she can walk all the way to Trasteten."

"Yes, my Lord Draystin."

Without a backwards glance he took his leave, there were other matters that required his attention.

Chapter 3

Treya's POV

"Get up Lady." Elrah shook Treya none to gently. A little too slow for Elrah's liking, she received a sharp pinch, one of the older woman's favorite forms of discipline. She had been up late the night before packing the various rooms of the royal family's tent under the watchful eyes of Elrah. Treya's insistence on wearing black was met with stern disapproval when she donned the same dress she had worn the day before. The stand off lasted a few minutes with both women determined to get their way. Raised rough with the son's of her father's friends and advisors, Treya thought nothing of wearing the dress a second day. There was no mud or blood on it at least.

"But it will displease Lord Draystin," Elrah said.

"My father is dead less than a day and I should care about what he thinks! He has taken everything else from me, leave me to my mourning if nothing else!" Treya knew the woman had a heart and she played upon that sympathy by sagging like a scolded puppy.

"Fine, my Lady, do as you will. But if Lord Draystin says one word, I'll repay you his displeasure with more than mere pinches. Now come along. We have a great deal to do before the camp breaks."

Outside, the thick damp mists of late fall shrouded the Lower RailEl Valley. East of the camp the rushing water of the RailEl River was muffled and unseen. The half circle of the Border Range also remained concealed in the thick fog. The muted clamor of an army breaking camp was comforting to Treya. She tried to imagine it was her army, and her men breaking camp. The image kept her going for near an hour until, as the dawn's light filtered brokenly through the mist, an armored solider shouted for Lords Jaden and Draystin. From near at hand two voices responded as one.

"My Lords, they are gone. Pulled out completely," the solider said.

"What?" Jaden's form was visible striding toward the man, Draystin was a step behind him.

"Gone, my Lords. The fires are cold. All that is left on the field are two war horses. A fine black stands next to a broken saddle with a cut cinch and his bridle is loose enough to toss if the beast chose. The other is a bay. Neither will be caught."

"More of their damn symbolism," Jaden scoffed. "Draystin, what does it mean?"

"My guess is that the black is Redeen's. The broken saddle shows his rider died in battle. The cut cinch shows he died in sacrifice. The horses were left," he paused. "Because they were trained for battle and will obey no other man. I am not sure about the bay, it may have been left to represent the girl as Redeen's heir."

Treya's heart beat like the wings of a falcon trapped in a net. They left Endeavor, they left her. Alone with no thought of rescue, no final bloody battle to recover their Queen. Was that what she really expected? Some nobleman's son to sweep into the enemy camp with a band of daring soldiers, battling their way to her side and carrying her off to freedom? Reality struck hard. There would be no rescue. No young nobleman to champion her to freedom. With the last shreds of her resolve she went back to loading boxes into the wagon. At least, she thought, Draystin didn't know as much as he thought. The bay stallion out on the field was her horse, trained in battle as her father's had been, not some paltry representation.

"Send a phalanx out along their retreat to ensure it is not some kind of trap, and send another on ahead to scout the route to the pass. The couriers were sent on to Trasteten?"

"Yes, Lord Jaden. They left before dawn."

"If Father's death didn't require our return," Jaden paused.

"You would hunt them to the very walls of Castle Siloria," Draystin finished. The brothers laughed.

Treya flushed hotly at their bravado and locked her eyes on the box in her hands. How dare they think they could take Siloria. Five kings had ruled Andavan since the thrown was lost and the wars began. Never once in all that time had a single enemy reached the walls of Siloria. And here these whelps thought they could do what no one before them had done. So intent was she on her contempt, she failed to hear the foot steps behind her.

"My Lords," Trakota snapped to attention.

"This her?" Jaden asked. "Not much to look at but she seems a hard worker."

"From the looks of her arms, Lady Elrah has been busy," Draystin said.

Jaden laughed and rubbed the back of his arm. "I recall her methods well. Good choice brother. You know, with father dead and you in line for the thrown after me, you need a wife. We could take Andavan through marriage."

Draystin's harsh laugh fired her anger. Treya spun and threw the box in her hands at him. His arms shot up to block the well aimed attack. She smiled when his laughter ceased but it was short lived. The sound of wood and glass shattering was punctuated by Treya's strangled cry as she was slammed face down on the ground. Trakota's weight forced the air from her lungs and she went limp, knowing that to struggle would only make things worse. Above her Draystin's laugh resumed.

"Brother, your arm," Jaden pointed.

"It's nothing I'll die from, I am afraid," he mocked. "Trakota, please help the child up."

Treya bristled at his pleasant tone and manners. Expecting to be lifted bodily off the ground by the solider, she was taken off guard by the hand offered to her. More unnerving was the one-sided grin Draystin wore. A fine line of blood trailed at his temple and a bold streak of it was drawn down his left forearm. Against her better judgment she smiled at the pain she had inflicted.

With two steps he came dangerously close. Involuntarily she cringed expecting his hand to fall in punishment. "You were warned." The words were too casual. He reached out for her and she brought both her hands up to ward him off. Deftly, he caught her hands in his. She struggled to fight him off for only an instant. It was hopeless. He was far stronger than her and he was prepared.

"She is not without some sense," Jaden laughed. "Stupid maybe, but not senseless. Though I don't like the idea of a viper under my roof."

"She has been given her only chance. I had hoped to train her to our ways, but if the horse fights its master it must be broken or put down."

Jaden laughed loudly but not Draystin. His eyes scolded her coldly, his disappointment evident on his face.

"See to her swiftly. We should be underway before the mist lifts."

"Yes, Lord Jaden." Draystin gave his brother a half bow. "Trakota, our guest needs to be taught humility. She will walk with the other prisoners for a few days. See to it that she is chained with the men. Last in line. Can't have you giving your men any ideas of misplaced heroics."

A thick man Treya had not seen before stepped into the conversation. "My Lord, she is a child. You can not make her walk to Trasteten!" The soft spoken man smiled at Treya.

"She will walk, Physician, and for as long as I see fit. But I promise you she will not be drug far when she falls. It is still my duty to see to the safety of this family and she is part of it."

"Lord Draystin!" Beltanis shot the young man a startled look, then he narrowed his eyes. "What happened to you?"

"This child," he directed his words to Treya. "Was repaying my hospitality."

"Captain, take the girl. I will not have Lord Draystin falling ill on me as lord Jesset did."

"Don't be a fool, Beltanis. It was only a box." Draystin handed Treya to Trakota. "It wasn't a poisoned blade. Take her and see that she is made comfortable." His dismissal was clear.

Treya felt heat flush her cheeks. He was dismissing her as he would a servant. She was helpless in the grip of the solider as he led her away. What would her father advise her to do? Suddenly she wondered if attacking Draystin had been the right thing to do. Would her father call the attack childish, or an act of defiance? Ahead, the mist parted to reveal battered and wounded soldiers seated in a line, flanked by men armed with heavy crossbows. A few of the soldiers looked up but most were beyond caring, and Treya could feel their hopelessness pull at her. Trakota took her to the end of the line, and like the men, her hands were bound to the chain. Next the chain was wrapped tightly about her waist, pulled through a ring and secured.

"The guards have orders to shoot anyone messing with the chains. So don't mess with them. They might not aim to kill you, but those are their orders." He straightened. "Now sit, be still and no talking."

Treya watched him walk away. He stopped to talk with a guard in a dark red cloak, then he was gone into the mist. The cold ground leached the heat from her slender limbs and the dew collected in her hair. Sitting still reminded her that fall in Andavan's Border Ranges was a cold affair. When she had been busy packing and loading the cold barely affected her. Now, it didn't take long for her to start shivering. What evil force had conspired to bring such an end to the reign of Andavan? She watched the men ahead of her in line. What price would have to be paid for Andavan's return to power? Dark images played in the fog. Things she could almost see but which fled direct inspection.

The cold mists of morning were slow to burn off as the sun topped the wooded hills of Palishir. True light occasionally streaked the damp ground with ragged patterns of swirling mist and harsh reality. Knees drawn tightly to her chest, Treya was cloaked by thoughts of home. In her mind she saw the bright colors light on water, rising and falling, crashing in silver and white gilt waves. The pounding of hooves brought her head up with a snap. A handful of riders swept past headed towards the battle field. The leader stood in his stirrups, a great recurved bow visible in his grasp as he guided his bay with his knees. Treya looked about for a target. The only thing she could see were two horses grazing on the trampled grass.

"No," she whispered. The rider notched his bow and her father's great black war horse raised his head. Beyond him, her horse Endeavor was also alert. The rider drew back and the arrow flew. Treya couldn't see the shot but Forge bolted. A second arrow followed the first. Forge stumbled and turned to face his attacker. Treya could hear the horse's battle cry as he pawed at the ground. The rider slowed, stopped, then dismounted. From the group of riders a shout rang out and a heavily feathered gray sprang forward, his rider pressed tightly to his neck. Treya recognized the rider's cloak, Draystin. The other riders followed him, trying to get to the archer before the black decided to charge. On the field the bowman pulled another arrow from his quiver and fitted it to his bow. The distance between man and horse would prove deadly if the arrow missed. The archer sighted and Forge charged him. The horse closed half the distance before the arrow flew. The archer, so sure of his shot, stood his ground until the last possible moment.

Treya tried to stand but the cold ground had stiffened her. The arrow struck and the great horse faltered, then slowed to a stiff trot and then a shaking walk. Within striking range the stallion stopped, his head swaying from side to side. Treya caught her breath. Unable to look away, she watched as the archer dropped his bow and drew a sword. With the last of his strength, Forge reared and struck out. The blow never landed. The archer turned swordsman, lunged in and stabbed upward before dancing out of range. Forge dropped back to the ground, his breath billowing plumes in the cold air. With a strangled neigh, the last symbol of lord Redeen Cail's rule fell dead on the abandoned battle field.

The victor stood on the slain war horse with his sword high over his head. The riders bent on aiding him reined in shouting his name. The name, Lord Jaden, was intoned by those closest to the gruesome display and carried to the far edges of the camp.

Treya turned away. Emotions roiled within her. She bit hard at her abused lip, her stomach and head ached in protest at her stubbornness. The meager bites of hard bread and cheese from the night before were not enough to sustain her. Lady Elrah promised her porridge after the morning packing was done, but she knew she wouldn't see any of that now. Draystin had been right about eating when food was offered, and that left her with a bitter taste in her mouth.

Around her, the shouting died to a boisterous chatter among the soldiers. It took a moment for Treya to notice the whispered repetition of her name. The man chained next to her was familiar, but who he was eluded her. When he had her attention he sketched something into the ground between them. Leaning over to see better Treya had to steady herself against the waves of vertigo that assailed her. Between them he had drawn a sword. A slightly curved blade with its guard twisted, one side up and the other down. The Syesin Kep. Caught in the upturned guard of the sword was a simple circlet. The Andavan Crown.

In her mind she heard her father's voice, soft and comforting. He spoke in the ancient tongue. "So falls the last of the Ruling Kings. Andavan's Proctor is unsheathed. Dark clouds weep in a child's stead. Trials test the loyalties and shape the lines of Kings." Her body trembled, not from cold or fear but from the eerie knowledge that she had never heard that line of lore before.

The solider cleared his throat and brushed the drawing from the dirt. "Word was sent Treya. Siloria will know you are queen."

Chapter 4

Draystin's POV

The sun, high over head was lost behind dark ominous clouds. The morning mist had never fully burned off, leaving the river valley cold and damp. Draystin and Jaden sat side by side watching the army descended the last low hill before the true mountains of the Border Range.

"We should push on to the high camp just in case they are lying in wait," Jaden said.

"With that storm? We won't make it before the trail becomes slick and dangerous," Draystin advised. He could see the darker haze of rain falling upon the mountain.

"The decision is mine Draystin."

"I am not challenging you. Just offering an observation." Draystin bowed his head in obedience.

Jaden pointed behind them, "But if we get caught in that storm, we won't make the pass at all."

Sweeping in from the east, across the Palishir Hills, was a dark wall of roiling clouds. Draystin could not remember seeing those clouds earlier. His hand tightened unconsciously on the hilt of his sword. As the two young men watched, the clouds crossed more than halt the width of the impenetrable forest in the time it took the trailing edge of the army to reach the hill top.

"It will make the river in half an hour and this spot half an hour after that." Draystin gauged the company's progress toward the mountain. "If we push hard the best we can do in that time is make the first summit." Draystin found his brother's stare cold and critical. "You are right my Lord. It is a chance we have to take. That storm could sit here for days, flood the high meadows, or mire the trail beyond passing." Draystin fought to keep his tone neutral.

"See to the wagons and the prisoners. I will be at the front." Jaden spurred his horse into motion and shouted orders at the men awaiting his commands. Draystin watched him conferring with the generals and other advisors, his hands a blur as he pointed from the clouds to the mountains. A heavy weight descended onto Draystin's shoulders as well as his spirit. The day darkened and he pulled his cloak tighter about him. Shar-Shan snorted beneath him, feeling his rider's tension. Pawing at the ground, the horse turned to face an approaching rider.

"My Lord, your orders?" Captain Trakota said.

"Yes, captain. Group the wagons and harness the reserve horses to them. We are going to attempt the summit before the storm catches us."

"From one storm to the other?"

"As Lord Jaden commands. See to the wagons personally. We have little time to waste."

"Yes, my Lord." With a crisp salute Trakota wheeled about and was gone.

Shaking his head Draystin tore himself away from the storm. It was an omen, but of what he could not say and that bothered him. With a firm leg he sent Shar-Shan down the line.

Twenty-eight men and one girl were chained behind massive draft horses, ensuring that any combined resistance would be met with equal force. Riding up on the prisoners Draystin found himself again admiring the child struggling alone at the end of the line. Her borrowed dress was tattered and covered in dirt. Drawing along side he could see her hands were scraped from repeated falls. Despite her condition, and even with her head bowed and shoulders slumped, there was determination in the way she gripped the chain. It was as if she could draw strength from the metal.

When she finally looked up at him he flinched. He knew the pace Jaden would set. He knew it would be too much for her. Yet he could show no mercy. She would not accept any either. By placing her with the prisoners she had become one. The glare she gave him was impossible to mistake. She hated him. Each step she took out of Andavan would add to her hatred. She would become more his enemy than her father had ever been, for she would be loose in the castle. The bandage on his left arm attested that she was skilled enough to inflict damage when given the opportunity. Riding on ahead to give the orders to increase speed he felt her eyes follow him.

Treya's POV

The word was passed back along the line of prisoners, anyone who could not keep up would be left. Treya closed her eyes and offered a short prayer to Keth for strength. Draystin's brief visit and his cold evaluation of her sparked her anger. She wasn't just some common prisoner or mercenary. She was the ruler of Andavan. Royalty, to be treated as such.

"Treya, come on," Cavin, the solider in front of her urged.

She fell into the light jog, one step behind him. Her feet hurt from the loose rocks and the miles already walked but with no other options she focused on Cavin's back and endured. Soon the journey took on its own out-of-time perspective. She heard her own breathing and the staggered tempo of running feet and the shod hooves of horses trotting. Behind them, the distant sound of thunder beckoned to her, calling her name. As they made the first peek on the climb out of the RailEl Valley Treya knew she could not keep up. Lack of food and sleep were finally taking their toll. Her steps faltered, she slowed, but the gap between Cavin and herself remained the same. She held that pace until the next cutback before she stumbled and slowed again. The chain remained slack as the line ahead of her slowed with her. Unwilling to be defeated, Treya lowered her head and struggled on to the next cutback. Her lungs burned and her vision blurred, the roaring in her ears drowned out even the sound of her own labored breathing. Again she stumbled. A hand caught her sleeve keeping her upright.

"Come on Treya," Cavin whispered urgently in her ear. "They're watching us." She nodded and numbly picked up her pace.

A horse passed them, its rider shouting. Treya tried to understand what he was saying but her mind could not focus on his words. She was fascinated by the water that pooled in the horses foot prints. Cavin shouted over her head and she wondered why everyone was shouting.

"You can't keep her out in this rain!"

"Those are my orders. Now move on."

Mud splattered up from a horse and onto her dress. She was amazed by the tiny rivers that ran from the fabric of the dress. Another horse appeared with its legs coated in the thick red mud. Something about the horse nagged at her and in a burst of anger she pulled away from Cavin and staggered up the trail. Cavin tried to help her but her anger was no match for her fatigue. She slipped in the deepening mud. A hand from behind gripped her collar. She tried to fight off the help.

"Treya," Cavin grabbed both her hands. "Stop this!"

Her feet slipped out from under her again and she grabbed at Cavin's tunic.

"Get the chain off her."

All around her water and mud coated everything. She saw, unfeeling, the chain drop away and she was lifted onto a gray horse. Above, lightening flashed across the sky and the thunder echoed inside her head. Strong arms enfolded her, wrapping her tightly in the warmth of a thick cloak. Instinctively she sought the heat of the rider. Somewhere, someone shouted and the rider turned. Afraid of falling, she clutched at the cloak and the arms tightened about her.

"Move out!" He shouted and Treya recognized the voice. With the last of her strength she tried to pull away from him.

Dropping his voice, Draystin spoke into her ear as he used the ancient tongue, "I can not protect you if you fight me, Lady."

An odd sensation tore the breath from her lungs. His choice of terms for protector and lady were taken from the oldest of terms in the tongue, and his inflections were perfect. He used the word Kep for protector, meaning defender, keeper and guardian. As they trotted up the line, Treya also wondered at Dryastin's use of the Aliisa for lady. Literally it meant high queen. It wasn't what he said that stilled her struggles as much as the way he said it. The world flickered with the pulse of the lightening above them and with each flash she felt herself slipping into darkness.

Draystin's POV

Shar-Shan stumbled, pitching Draystin forward. Regaining his seat, he found he was fighting to hold onto Treya. The child was suddenly limp. Draystin hunted for the bright gold pennant of the healers wagon. Looking around, he found he was at the summit of Danavan's Peak. The sight of men and wagons, coated in the dark mud, slipping and sliding down the lea of the mountain, brought a scowl to the young man's face. This was all wrong. Where was the victory in this retreat? Where was the honor in this victory? They has taken Redeen and dispatched his generals and advisors. There would be few left in the land capable of taking the throne with these people's need for lineage, lore and tradition. He held the only heir to Andavan before him, and yet he had lost his father. Trasten had lost its king. They had lost the triumph of conquering the enemy, and now they were running from the threat of retaliation. And they were the victors? There would be more lost on this "retreat" from Andavan. There were two more summits to breach and the bridge at RailEl's Gate to cross. Three more days of travel to reach Trasteten. Draystin knew their victory was going to be very costly.

Thunder shattered the rhythmic drumming of the rain. Lightening stroked the sky repeatedly. Draystin lost count after the ninth bolt, and still more followed. The rain fell with more force, the huge drops coming with a vengeance. Crossing the summit, his vision was reduced to an arms length. Over the rain and the peels of thunder, he thought he heard the screams of men and horses, but in the aftermath there was nothing but the rain. Rain that slacked dramatically as Shar-Shan tentatively picked his first steps down the mountain. Water still ran in torrents down the trail, but in a matter of seconds the downpour was reduced to a fine drizzle.

"Curious, is it not Lord Draystin?" Beltanis asked as Draystin drew rein along side the medical wagon.

"The weather in these mountains is just as odd as the people," a young soldier remarked from the wagon.

"What have you there?" Beltanis remarked on the form tucked in Draystin's cloak.

"The child collapsed."

"I told you--"

"And I told you she was my responsibility." The two glared at each other until Elrah popped her head out from the interior of the wagon.

"How much longer do you plan on keeping her out there?"

Draystin hauled on Shar-Shan's reins, allowing the wagon to pass. Elrah and the soldier met him at the back step and Treya was passed into the wagon. With her warmth gone, the cold wind bit into the dampness she left behind. He listened for a moment to the commotion as the woman tended the girl.

His concern for her was replaced by other distracting thoughts. The bizarre lack of rain on this side of the summit. The storm. The sudden withdrawal of Andavan's army. His fathers death. The commotion of a wagon mired in the mud finally broke Draystin from his reverie.

--

Elrah fought to remove Treya's soaked and muddied dress then bundled her in a warm blanket. She noted the scrapes and bruises the child had suffered.

"I don't care who she is, or was, no child should have to endure being treated like this. She was not responsible for the wars."

"Hush!" Beltanis slipped in trading places with the soldier. "You drove her hard enough yourself this morning."

"But can't you see? The scrapes and cuts, she'll catch her death from being out in that storm. Lord Draystin has no right."

"Elrah, he has every right. She belongs to the crown. I might not agree with everything he's done but I know Lord Jaden would not have been as kind."

"Look at her. She will not make the crossing like this."

"Now is not the best time to argue with Lord Draystin, dear. As much as you might still see him as a boy, he is next for Trestan's thrown. He is a man now, with more upon his shoulders than any other save his brother. The comfort of a single child is our concern, not his." Elrah scowled at her husband before setting about to attend Treya.

Treya's POV

The green fur trees and lush foliage dwindled into low scrubs just short of the summit on their second day of travel. The day was bright and a sea of small birds scattered in waves as the wagons rolled past. Treya sat in silence on the front seat of the medical wagon. Her hands were bound together in her lap. It was Draystin's idea of a compromise with Beltanis. Her humiliation warred with her Crossover composure. The very same thing that Draystin hoped would break her, she would use to prove just how strong she could be. Shifting uncomfortably on the hard seat, she caught herself rising up to catch her first look at the Avnur Plain and its great river. The RailEl Valley was a breath taking sight from above, with its forests, rivers and granite capped ridges. If what she'd heard about the Plain being twice the size of all of Andavan, the view would be spectacular.

A twist in the trail nearly brought her to her feet as she caught sight of blue skies. Next to her Beltanis chuckled, and Treya blushed fiercely.

"My legs are stiff," she shot at him.

"I am sure of that, Lady Treya."

She looked away. He was kind and caring, but he was the enemy. And if he knew that she had delivered the poisoned blade that killed Lord Jesset he would not be as compassionate.

"Always remember you are my heir, child." Treya heard her father say. Even as young as ten years old, her father reminded her daily of her duty. War was part of her life. A brother she had never known had died the same year she was born. A training accident, or so she had been told. Her mother, the delicate pale woman of her memories, had been slain at the hand of a Trasten assassin. "Never forget who the enemy is. For they will never forget who you are," Redeen said, pulling her from her mother's death bed.

Treya raised her hands to brush the stray strands of hair from her face, and wiped quickly at the moisture in the corners of her eyes. The wagon lurched bringing her awareness back to where she was. The trail sloped away covered in the same low scrub. It was a terrain done in browns and dull yellows. The Boarder Range drained all the water from the seasonal storms so the land below was in stark contrast to the lush greens and vibrant fall colors of Andavan. Then came the break she had been waiting for. Trasten's great plain lay before her. On the eastern edge lay the Basyan Sea, glinting in the afternoon sun. Treya's hands stopped halfway to her lap as she was caught by the vast rolling plain. In the distance, only the silvery reflection of a lake marred the endless expanse of green brown grasslands. If there were forests or trees, Treya couldn't make them out. Only the bay, where the RailEl River poured into the sea, was blotted with the darker greens and reds and golds of late fall foliage.

"Trasteten sits there," Draystin pointed to the lake. His appearance along side the wagon startled her. "On the shore of Lake Avnur. That will be your new home." It was the first he had spoken to her since her collapse. She looked away, studying the floor boards.

"Siloria is my home. Trasteten is a prison."

Draystin studied her in profile, her lips tightly drawn, her hands clasped white knuckled in her lap. Silence stretched between them. Without looking Treya felt his scrutiny.

"That would be your choice, my Lady, but it will only be a prison if you make it so. There is a lot of wonder down there."

"She is not in the mood to be consoled this afternoon, Lord Draystin," Beltanis said.

"Ah, well that, too, is her choice." Draystin looked back out at the plain below. "The storm will have swollen the RailEl. The falls should be impressive."

"And passable?"

"That we will discover when we get there." A shout from ahead brought Draystin to stand in his sturrips. "Good day Doctor, M'lady."

After Draystin was gone, Treya raised her eyes to gaze out at Trasten again. She doubted that the flat, featureless, treeless, expanse of grass held any great wonders. No rumors white stags battling in the dappled shadows of thick furs. No crested Syrys hawks nested in the cliffless shores below. There was no mystery to the rolling plains, no deep caves hiding ancient dragon scales or other things.

"There is very little magic outside of Andavan," her father's voice spoke in her ear. Trasten killed off all theirs long ago." Images flashed through her mind. A rust red sea drake sunning on a broad beach. A Kirin thrashing at the tall grass with its single unicorn-like horn. A great cat like gargoyle perched upon the ragged walls of a crumbling castle. A long legged bird with claws on its feet and fangs instead of a beak, who's name was spoken in a tongue Treya could not comprehend.

"There is more to Trasten than what you see down there," Beltanis said.

"Maybe, but there is no magic."

"That is not true, my Lady. Lord Draystin carries all the magic that Trasten needs."

"What he carries belongs to Andavan. Not to Trasten or its bastard sons!" Treya's voice rose.

"Do not presume on my hospitality child," Beltanis' face reddened as he glared at her. "Lord Draystin would have you sent back to the line and I would not argue with him this time. You may think yourself protected here but you are not. Remember that always." Beltanis turned back to the team of horses.

Treya caught at the corner of her lip, feeling both the rebuke and the definite dismissal. She watched him closely for any signs that he would allow her to reenter the argument, but the old doctor seemed to have forgotten she was even there. In frustration she looked back out at the plain only to find that a twist in the trail was pulling them away from the view.

Hours passed in silence as the trail wound slowly down the south face of the Barrier Range. Lady Elrah appeared once at the curtain behind them but withdrew without a word. The sun neared the horizon. Treya shifted her seat with each jolt of the wagon. Several times Beltanis glared at her but said nothing. Then as the silence grew unbearable, Draystin trotted back down the line and reined in next to the wagon. His look took in both of them.

"The falls are passable, barely," Draystin said.

"Your brother wants to camp the night at Alorvi?"

"No, he wants us as far from the main roads as possible. Black Rock is where he wants us tonight."

"He is pushing too hard. It will be well past midnight before we get there."

"Your words, not mine, doctor," Draystin said. "My Lady, you will find the next turn, interesting."

Her sharp retort died on her lips as the left hand wall dropped away. The trail turned into a narrow canyon filled with a thick, cold mist. Bright green moss flowed in river like formations from the steel gray walls. Dark green and white creeping vines defied gravity, spanning from one side of the canyon to the other. Ferns grew in clumps in the darker pools of shadows, each twice the height of a man, with fronds as long as a wagon. Hundreds of blue and yellow birds, smaller than her hand, zipped through out the canyon playing in the mist.

Treya strained to make out the bird's song amongst the din of the army around her. She shook her head in an effort to clear her mind and focus on the birds that were no more than an arm span from her. Movement on the seat next to her caught attention. Beltanis wore a grin that was oddly out of place on the old doctor. Past him Draystin was doubled over, grasping tightly to his saddle. First, Treya thought him in pain until he looked at her. He was laughing at her. She bristled. There was only so much she could take in a single day from the upstart prince.

Beltanis reached out, touching her arm and leaned forward shouting. Treya stared at him. His lips moved but she couldn't hear him. Beyond the doctor, Draystin nearly fell from his horse in amusement. Beltanis slapped the young man, causing the gray charger to spin in response to the threat to his master. Draystin found himself nearly unseated and clinging to his horses neck. Tears streamed down his face as he found his stirrups and his seat.

Treya found it odd that the whole scene unfolded in a bizarre silence. Soundlessness wasn't the right term, Treya thought, there was a definite roar in the background.

"What is that noise?" She asked. Her own words were lost to even her ears. As if he could hear her, Draystin pointed up the canyon. A curtain of mist swirled at the far end. She couldn't see the source of the noise but the patterns in the mist mesmerized her. Sooner then she expected, they were enveloped in the cold damp cloud. She could feel the roar in her hands and feet as the sound passed beyond her range of hearing.

A sudden gust of wind cleared the mist for an instant and Treya caught a glimpse of the sounds source. A wall of falling water. If the Avnur plain had been a disappointment, RailEl's Gate was a wonder.

Treya recalled the legend that said, once Andavan, Trasten and Sanurvan had all been one great land. A land of rolling hills and thick forests of evergreen trees. But its people were at war and the gods were displeased. So each god struck the land with sword or axe, dividing it up. RailEl's Gate was the intersection of two such cuts. Cashiea, who protects the innocent, made the first cut. She claimed the lands north of the cut as hers and cleaved out the Barrier Range. South of the cut the land dropped into the plains. Then Borevien, the mischiever, came with his mighty axe and buried it right where Treya was now. This was the start of his cut. But unlike the smoothly sloping cut of Cashiea's sword, Borevien's axe notched deep groves in the mountain side. RailEl's Gate clearly showed the v-shaped cleft in the granite walls. Here the broad RailEl narrowed and plunged into the gorge. The water fell so far that the spay collected on the walls, creating permanent streams and dozens of minor water falls as far down the gorge as Treya could see.

The doctor's hand pointed down river. Her eyes followed the rushing white water to a simple rail-less bridge. The head of the caravan was already on the other side and turning out of sight. Treya shuddered. The soft sand that was the trail, and the high water marks on the walls, proved the river's ferocity. She recalled Draystin's remark about the river being barely passable. As they drew nearer to the bridge, Draystin reappeared, trotting just ahead of their wagon. The line slowed to a crawl and Treya thought she could hear men shouting. Suddenly, a horse on the bridge reared up in its harness, causing the men on the wagon to scramble off. The horse went down and Treya could see the men frantically cutting at the traces to free the others. Another horse reared and the two remaining bolted free. The fallen horse was scrambling for its footing. Treya held her breath but there was no hope. The wagon tipped forward, its front wheel dropping off the bridge. The sudden lurch pushed the wagon's tongue into the struggling horse, driving it over the edge. With an audible crash, the wagon flipped over into the raging waters and was gone. Another wagon was driven out onto the bridge.

Draystin looked back at Beltanis who merely shook his head. Treya gripped the wagon's rough wood as tightly as she could. Their turn approached far too soon for Treya's liking. Draystin reined about, standing in his stirrups, he shouted an order. Four men came forward and each took hold of a bridle of one of the horses. Treya finally got a good look at the bridge. The white water alternated between rushing under and over the dark wood. The bridge crossed nearly four wagon lengths to a rock. A rock that divided the mighty river into two sections before it fell beyond sight down a second waterfall just feet past the edge of the bridge. A second bridge passed from the rock to the far shore. Treya could feel her pulse racing faster than the water.

Draystin's gray pranced nervously out on the wet wood, but his rider didn't seem to notice. Draystin looked neither right nor left, his gaze was locked on the rock. Treya held her breath again, this time as their horses stepped out onto the bridge. Beltanis too looked nowhere but at the safe haven of the far shore. She risked a peek at the raging waters to her right. The white foam was laced with blue and green streaks. She leaned out for a better look and was yanked backwards by Beltanis.

"Do not look down!" He shouted at her.

She wanted to ask him why but the wagon lurched and she cried out. Beltanis gave her a thin lipped smile and patted her on the arm before the wagon jolted again as the rear wheels climbed up the rock. The rock was almost the same length as the first bridge. Treya took comfort from its solidity until she saw Draystin's gray fetlock deep in the water on the other bridge. Their soldier escort didn't hesitate a step as they left the safety of the rock. Treya squeezed her eyes shut expecting at any moment to feel the waters cold hand upon her. She knew that at any moment they would be swept away. The hand she finally did feel was warm. Lady Elrah tapped her shoulder.

"Come Lady, we need to get you dry."

Treya opened her eyes to find they were once again on the trail. Draystin trotted past on her side and spared her a momentary glance. His gray was heavily lathered and he was just as drenched. When he called out, ordering the soldiers back to their posts, Treya didn't have a problem hearing him. It was as if on this side of the river the falls lost their power. With a final look back she climbed into the wagon.

Chapter 5

Draystin's POV

Late the next day the army entered Trasteten. There was no grand fan fair for their return. No banners waved above a cheering crowd. They were met at the great gate by a phalanx of the Castle Guard arrayed in the colors of mourning. What should have been Trasten's greatest victory was also its worse loss. At the head of the procession Jaden rode, leading his father's horse. Behind him came the funeral wagon carrying the dead King. Draystin followed behind the wagon with Trasten's banner draped across his horse's neck. At his side, with her hands bound and on foot, was Trasten's prize and Draystin held the rope that bound her.

Early that morning the two of them had come to an uneasy agreement. As long as she kept walking he would not drag her through the streets. Draystin was extremely grateful that Beltanis was elsewhere, the doctor would not have approved his methods of persuasion. Fooling the healer with his bravado would have been impossible but the child... She believed him capable if such cruelty. A good way to start, he thought as he stole a look at her. The same fire burned in her as had burned in her father the night he died. Six days of hardship had not taken any of that edge off her either. Draystin had been an unseen observer of the argument between Lady Elrah and Treya as the camp prepared to break that morning. He could see that it had something to do with the gray dress the girl wore, though he could not hear them. For five days she wore the same simple black dress and Draystin would not have begrudged her that. He too had made the choice to wear the same black vest every day. Only this morning he wore a more appropriate tunic and fresh breeches. Both the Lords of Trasten were attired as royalty returning victorious from battle as well as in mourning. Now Treya's attire was more befitting a prisoner. With her eye's locked straight ahead and her mouth set in a tight line Treya endured. There was determination in her steps and he could well imagine her motivation was the wagon in front of them. Pressing his hand into his saddle he resisted the urge to yank the girl off balance.

Draystin had never been close to his father. Jesset was a fair father but as a man and a ruler he was driven by his anger. The cities under his rule were prosperous but their citizens paid dearly for that with the lives of their son's. They were the soldiers who died defending their homes in battles far off on the borders of Trasten. Now that Jesset was dead, Draystin could only hope the wars were over, but he knew better. Jaden would want the full prize that was won with Redeen's death. He would want Siloria, the thrown of Andavan. Generations of kings waged war on the small kingdom of Andavan. Merely half the size of Trasten, crowded on one side by the sharp peeks of the Border Range and filled with thick uninhabitable forests, it remained the boon of the great kings. True enough the land was rich in magic and lore but that magic was not free for the taking. Proof of that lay in the scabbard on his hip. Syesin Kep, while the blade had chosen him as its wielder, Draystin did not yet know of its legendary powers. Powers that made a young boy, Danurvan Asteryllen, the High King of Sanirvin, the greatest of the known kingdoms. Alone the boy held off Trasten's entire army at RailEl's Gate. Holding the bridge in defense of a small band of wounded soldiers half a day until help came. The legend told that King Stanis was first upon the Gate and saw the boy amidst three armored soldiers on the bridge. In defending the bridge Danurvan would trap an enemy's sword and force it down. When the tip of Syesin Kep touched the waters splashing on the bridge a wave would sweep away the enemy. Danurvan did not relinquish the bridge until Stanis ordered him to stand down. Where upon the boy collapsed at the old King's feet. In a battle more fierce, not long before his death, Danurvan slew the ancient white sea dragon Kardruol, of the Five Rivers. Many great deeds were his claim to the thrown of Andavan, which Stanis willingly passed to him. Only through marriage did he gain the thrown of Sanirvin but rule it he did. Legend even told that Danurvan knew the hiding place of the true Thrown of Andavan. The place where the true crown lay hidden for generations.

Draystin himself did not believe much in magic. Even his blood, descended from Danurvan, was not enough awaken the dormant sword he carried. The only magic he knew of was that preformed by a few white bearded men at court. All in all a far cry from the deeds of Danurvan Asteryllen. Was it the sword that gave the man power or was it from man to sword? Draystin could still see the deep purple light as it pulsed from the amethyst in the swords hilt as his hand passed over it. At the sound of his name Draystin pulled himself back to the procession. A few in the crowd were shouting his name as he passed while others shouted Jaden's name. Here in the city sides were being drawn before the dead king could be buried. Why could they not just accept the succession? Jesset had been dismissed by his people already. Draystin shook his head, he knew very well he did not want the crown.

Shar-Shan skittered sideways when someone in the crowd threw a rock hitting Treya in the chest. Trakota and four guards swept forward amidst the insults hurled at the girl. Trakota read Draystin's look moved in close to shield the girl. Draystin knew he was not the target of the crowd but he was not going to ignore the possibility that some faction of politics might, accidentally, eliminate him from the secession of the crown. Looking down he regretted his earlier anger towards her. Now huddled close to Shar-Shan she held her lower lip tightly between her teeth. A small drop of blood oozed from the corner of her mouth. He could see the faint trembling of her hands clutched tightly to her chest. A child's hands. Hands that had drawn tainted steel against his father. War was war and she was the enemy. But she was still a child, a child who believed in the Crossover. His thoughts warred within him. Draystin knew young men who had failed their own Crossover's under less stress. Treya believed this right of passage would bring her the status of adulthood, bequeathing to her all the privileges that went with it. It barely made sense to him. She had courage, bravado and control. His father knew the shrewd reality of keeping the child alive. As long as she lived she was heir to Andavan. Her death would put someone else on the thrown. Blood succession was not the singular right to rule in Andavan. While her blood would be uncontested, any of Redeen's generals would prove a greater threat. And to slaughter a child...

The funeral wagon slowed to a stop. Draystin's breath caught. He wanted to cry out as his chest constricted. The ancient marble steps of the Castle Trasteten were strewn with a carpet of black roses. Karla and her entourage each held a single blue, flower of mourning. A full honor guard was arrayed at the foot of the steps, half in mourning and half in Jaden's colors. The sight tore Draystin. To cheat his father of a full ceremony was a dishonor. A king's rule should end grandly. Redeen knew that and his last moment of defeat he chose a death worthy of a king. With a heavy sigh Draystin watched his brother dismount.

Jaden dismissed the Master of Ceremony before he could begin and entered the castle with a grunt, kicking aside a pile of roses. He did not even bother with a backwards glance at his family. The Master of Ceremony swiftly regained his composure and turned to find Draystin, bowing before him. Draystin dropped Treya's rope to Trakota. He dismounted going straight to his sister.

"Karla." He hugged her tightly but she did not return it. Pushing her back to arms length he tried to read her eyes. They were red and puffy with dark circles under her makeup. Her face was pinched, her expression lifeless.

"My Lord," was he only reply. Her eyes swept past him and for a moment he thought he saw a spark of a reaction but it died and she dropped her eyes to the roses on the floor.

"Will you do the honor Lord Draystin?" the Master of Ceremony asked. Inwardly Draystin groaned. Ceremonies were one of his greatest weaknesses.

He faced the crowd raising a hand. "Trasten's King has returned," he shouted to those gathered. At his signal the captain of the guard ordered the soldiers to dismount. The officers drew their swords and flanked the funeral wagon. One by one they knelt as they passed the coffin on their way into the great hall. Draystin tried hard to ignore them as he entered the castle.

Treya's POV

The castle was gaudy and crate like, stifled by ratty tapestries and old rushes moldering in the corners. Treya wondered at the lack of care. The staff, heads bowed in mourning or deference, were as old and ratty as the tapestries. The faces she saw in passing were blank, mask like facades. She expected to see the pained or possibly relieved countenances of servants who had just lost their king. When her mother died there was weeping every where Treya went. But here, here there was only silence. That thought was broken when Draystin entered. Servants, guards, ladies, every one of them humbled themselves before the boy. Treya watched the proud young man stiffen. His face reddened.

"I want none of this!" he shouted. "My father, your King, is dead and he will be honored by the traditional observance. Understood?"

"Jaden sent ahead that mourning was to be observed before your return," Karla told him.

"Well I am still in mourning and my wishes will be honored."

"Jaden is..."

"Jaden is not yet King."

"Draystin!"

"Enough Karla, this is my decision. Be it known to all, I follow the old tradition by observing the state of Kingly mourning until the coronation." His voice rose and was heard by all in the great hall.

Treya heard more than his words, she heard the faint tremor behind them. Then he caught sight of her. His eyes darkened, for the first time since her capture she truly felt afraid. Draystin crossed the hall. The sound of his boots on the floor chilled her. She was alone, a prisoner without much hope of rescue. Her bravado suddenly crumbled. Slowly she backed away from him until she came to the end of her leash.

"The Ruler of Andavan: Imprisoned at the Keeper's Hand." Draystin spoke in the ancient tongue. His eyes bored into hers. She felt the magic in those words and shivered hard at the chill they caused. Draystin smiled at her reaction.

"No!" she spat on him.

He closed the last step between them in a lunge. Treya flinched but stood her ground, sure his intent was to frighten her. His hand came up and she watched it dumbfounded. Tears formed in her eyes and she fought to stop them at the force of his blow.

"Silence!" he breathed down on her, crowding her physically until she looked coweringly at the floor. She watched his feet take a single step backwards.

"Is she one of them?" Karla demanded.

"She is Redeen's daughter."

"Not in my house." Karla charged at Treya.

"Karla!" Draystin caught her arm. "She is a ward of this house by father's command.

Treya shrank back attempting to hide behind Trakota. She did not blame Karla her anger, if it were not for her Crossover Treya would have attacked Draystin at their second meeting.

"Trakota, take her below and get her a comfortable cell." Draystin's words sank whatever imagined hope remained in Treya. Following Trakota blindly from the hall Treya could hear Karla wailing behind them.

Treya's POV

The food was cold and the air was hot and Treya could stand neither. Cold soup, even on the hottest of days still turned her stomach. It was like the people, bland and lifeless. She tried time and time over to talk to the squat man who served as her jailer. Barstion merely grunted his replies at her while bringing in her meals or changing out her bucket. She wondered, and not for the first time, if his tongue had been removed for offending a Marul. As she measured the days is was a month since her capture and her father's death. In all that time there had been only four visitors to her cell.

Jaden, the new King and old jackass came to gloat on day after his coronation. All dressed up for court he was still like the soup, greasy and sickening. The next day the old healer had come. Checking over her bruises and scrapes he pronounced her well and promised she would have suitable clothes and bedding. "Just because you're a prisoner does not mean you are not still a child." He left muttering about the scolding Draystin would get for the bruise on her face.

Treya bristled at the word child. But by holding her tongue and smiling nicely at him; he was helping her, she was allowed another visitor a few days later. The Lady Elrah, arms full of bedding and a box of clothes. The sat and talked about nothing for near an hour before Elrah excused herself. Those few things, as small of a comfort as they seemed, made a world of difference to Treya. The days at Trasteten were hot and the nights were just as cold. The few blankets, soft mat, and a pillow meant more to her than hot soup.

Her fourth visitor did not stay more then a moment. He looked in through the window in the door. The old man who attended Draystin, Treya wished she could remember his name. She could not even remember if she had heard Draystin call him by name. She offered him a hello when she noticed him at the door but he said nothing. He did offer her a smile but he was gone a second later. Had Draystin sent him, she wondered? She fretted just as long that Draystin would come next. Then as the days passed into weeks with only Barstion's company she wondered why Draystin did not come to see her.

Using her fingers, Treya combed out her hair while contemplating her fate, her new home, and her captors. After a careful combing she plated her hair into sections and twisted the long strands together.

"It looks nice."

So intent was she at her task she had not heard the door open or noticed her visitor entering. Draystin was leaned against the jamb. His eyes glanced off her every corner and detail of her cell. He stopped at the tally marks on the wall.

"Well kept," he pointed. "Thirty-two days exactly." His tone was civil, almost friendly. Her mouth opened in response but she had no words and was quite unsure of how to answer him. He seemed not to notice.

"I owe you an apology my Lady. I have neglected you and in so my duty. Is there anything here of value to you?"

Treya looked at the blankets, clothes and rags. Unsure of what was to come she gathered her courage. "There is nothing here that can not be replaced."

"Very good then. Please come with me." She climbed to her feet. When she was close enough he whispered, "Promise you will not strike at me or anyone else and I will allow you to walk beside me as a free Lady. Otherwise you will go bound and tethered as you were when you arrived." His tone was pure ice and his eyes held hers until she spoke.

"You have my word."

"Ah, then let me show you where you will be staying," he smiled from ear to ear. For the first time in more then a month Treya stepped out into the hall. Trakota awaited them outside. Draystin led them from the dungeons up a wide spiral staircase. He did not stop on the first floor. Treya tried in vain to get a glimpse at the great hall. The stairs wound away hiding the hall behind stone and tapestry. Unlike in Siloria's hall, Trasteten's stairs were hidden behind massive tapestries. The second floor opened up to a poorly lit hall, a few torches sputtered on the walls between frayed tapestries. Two guards stood outside an ornate door at one end of the hall. In contrast to the Great Hall, the floor here was clean with thick rugs covering almost the entire thing. Treya guessed that the royal family occupied this floor. Draystin bypassed the second floor landing continuing on upwards. The stairs stopped on the third floor though the tower continued.

"There are apartments here for visitors, distant relations, a guard room, a common room, the training hall." He did not slow, heading for the far end of the hall. As they neared the end Trakota went ahead and unlocked a door. A single tourch gutted in a bracket by the door. Draystin blocked her from entering the room.

"This is a privilege. If you behave, act civilly, and learn the rules you will be required to live by, I will allow you to stay here. Acts of disobedience will result in punishment and the loss of privileges. Do you understand?" His dark eyes held hers.

She chaffed at the leash he was tightening about her neck. "I understand," she said seeing her options clearly.

"Good," he smiled. "Your new home, my Lady." He stepped aside allowing her to enter.

After the dungeon cell this room was a palace. Two plush couches sat facing each other with an over stuffed chair wedged into the circle. Thick tapestries covered the walls and many lamps filled the corners of the room. Thick rugs lay about covering every bit of the floor. Two doors opened off the sitting room and daylight spilled in from both. Treya stood unsure what to do.

"For now, this will be your prison. When I leave the door will be locked behind me. Lady Elrah will be permitted to visit and instruct you. Your meals will be served to you here but I promise they will be better then you received below. If you can read, there are books to fill your time and Lady Elrah will bring you a few sewing supplies. If you have any requests for things you need tell her. If she thinks they are appropriate the request will be passed to me. If I grant them they will become privileges and subject to your behavior."

She stared slack jawed at him. He was dictating to her the smallest details of daily life with no more emotion than Siloria's Duty Master assigning servants to clean hearths. As if he could hear her thoughts his smile became a knowing smirk.

"If these terms are not acceptable I can escort you back to the cell."

"This will be acceptable," she sighed.

"Good, that means my job here is done. Understand this Treya, if you think you might get lucky and find a way to escape. If you are found outside this room, the guards have been instructed to kill you on King Jaden's orders," he turned away.

"That's it?"

"What, did you expect me to sit and chat about matters of state with you?

She opened and closed her mouth uselessly. Draystin, flanked by Trakota, left. The harsh sound of scraping metal confirmed the locking of the door. She stared.

An hour or a moment, or half a day later she was still staring at the iron bound oaken door. The end and the beginning of her new world. Her new cell. While bigger and furnished for comfort it remained a prison trapping her. Treya redirected her attention to the rest of the rooms. Both had large north facing windows with a view of the Barrier Range. The sun stood high above the flat, empty land between castle and mountains.

As the dark, dank, confines of the dungeon cell cast a dulling cover over her position, the light and openness showed her in striking relief the reality surrounding her. A crushing understanding knocked the wind from her. With both hands she steadied herself against the window ledge. Before her stood the endless expanses of dried and shriveled grasses. The dull yellows were an extension of the glaring sun, leaching all the life from the land. In her limited travels she had never seen such a desolate sight.

Something hot and wet slipped down her face, first one side and then the other. The first set she ignored but as the second pair streaked her face she scrubbed at them. Her world would never be the same. Her father, the lush forests of Andavan, the cascading waterfalls, and the rock-eating action of ocean waves crashing into Siloria's towering cliffs. It was just a small corner of the world, but it was her corner. She was alone, friendless and very far from home. Her breath caught in her throat, followed by a gasp. A deep shuddering gasp.

The armor she carried since the night her father died lay discarded on the floor of her dungeon cell. The immediacy of that night, the trek across the Barrier Range, the cold-drafty nights and the stifling hot days confined in a tiny cell. They all joined to harden her, overwhelm her and keep her from facing the truth.

A delicate sent of flowers grounded her. The present rushed in to steal the strength from her knees. The future shoved the truth deep into her stomach. Treya dropped to the floor with a single desperate sob. Since her Crossover passed in the silent gloom of her cell there was nothing to keep the hot tears from bursting from her. She wept as she had never done before. For long, near endless moments she was unable to breathe. Even when she began to cough and choke there seemed no end to her grief and desperation. She fell asleep curled in upon herself listening to the sound of her own breathless cries.

When her last sob gave way to silence the soft snick of a lock turning preceded the creaking of a hidden door. The watcher entered quietly, lifted her easily and laid her upon the bed. With a light hand the watcher touched her tear streaked cheek before covering with a heavy fur. There was nothing else the watcher could do and so retreated back out the hidden passage.

Treya started into full wakefulness. She sat up in bed unable to recall how she had gotten there. The pounding in her head and the sickness in her stomach were more commanding than any mystery. Rising she washed her face in a basin of cold water near the window. Outside the sun was low in the west. Draystin promised her food but his failure to provide it did not surprise her. A sound from the sitting room did surprise her.

The Lady Elrah saw Treya. Immediately her plump face folded into a deep frown. "Dear child, what have they done to you?"

"Nothing." Treya fended off the woman's concern.

"Your face, those rags?"

"I don't need your pity woman," Treya fought hard to hold back another wave of tears. "I don't need you here at all!"

Elrah examined Treya's face. There were no bruises. The fire trapped within the girl, smoldering for a month, flared hot enough to burn all those around her. Elrah knew there would be no pleasant conversation, no settling in to her new home.

"I see you are not yet ready for company. Good night Lady Treya." Not until the door was closing behind her did Elrah speak again. "Remember

that I call upon you at my will not on any orders from the crown."

The door closed. Treya might have been lost staring at the door again if it were not for the smell of food. Treya drew back the cloth covering the tray Elrah had left. Expecting a warmer version of the cold, greasy, soup served in the dungeon she was shocked to find a well-cooked slab of beef and steamed greens. For a while Treya thought of nothing but the distraction of real food. When the food was gone she wandered back and checked out the rooms in depth. The left one was slightly larger with a wall of shelves filled with books. This was the room she chose as hers. Outside the sun kissed the western horizon. Reds and golds bathed the mountains of the Barrier Range in streaks of fire.

"Maybe there are still moments of magic here." Treya said to herself. The stress of the day and a belly full of hot food sapped the energy from her young body. Before she could explore the books she was forced to snuff the lights and climb into the comfortable bed.

The next day came and Treya woke to find dried fruit, cold bread and hard cheese waiting for her in the sitting room. After eating she searched the rooms, learning every inch and corner, nook and cranny. The tapestries told stories new to Treya. The books were old, some written in the common and others in the ancient tongue of Trasten. She knew her letters and her father insisted she read every chance she had. That gift came as a great boon in the long hours of the day. It gave her a distraction while she waited for Elrah's return. That wait proved far longer then expected.

The Sword Scene: Out of order, but hey...wanna read it anyway?