CHAPTER 2

Jorgran ran after him, "But our supplies - we need some of them to survive!"

Trevor ignored him as he continued shouting instructions. "From now on, we keep no scouts; we travel together and we travel fast. Food, water, and rest are secondary to speed."

"Hey, now just a minute, put me down! I don't want any part of this."

Trevor's only response was to shift his grip on the struggling girl. "If we can reach the pass before Ranchut, we stand a chance. Pushing ourselves, we can make it in two days time." He paused, "If anyone falls, leave him. We can't afford dead weight."

Melinda was still recovering, but her eyes snapped open at that. As soon as Trevor was out of earshot, she whispered to Jorgran, "Get what you can. I can stall Trevor for five minutes. After that, you'll need to leave." She glanced around. "Someone should go back for Sacha. Is Shera up to it?"

There was a slight pause before Jorgran reluctantly admitted, "She is, but I can cover the territory faster. I'll go for her." Melinda nodded her consent, but Jorgran hastily added "If you don't wait for me, I'll find redress from the afterlife. Your people can't control all of the spirit world."

Melinda nodded and went to catch up with Trevor. She knew that Jorgran was more than half-serious in his threats; he might have a boyish crush on her, but he was still a dangerous man when pushed. It was risky to play him like that, but she knew that his pride wouldn't allow him to let Shera go back, when he considered himself the better tracker.

Trevor was at his tent, pinning a struggling Deal under one arm while the other rummaged through his gear. He was discarding weapons, she saw, not even trusting himself with the extra weight of a spare dagger. He finally settled where she knew he would: his favorite, the glaive. Deal was set down, briefly forgotten, as he extracted the two long staves, one capped with a steel butt, the other sporting a cruel blade. He caressed them briefly, a strange longing in his eyes that anyone other than Melinda would have been surprised at. With the closest thing his anatomy could render to a smile, he brought the two halves together and they snapped in place, a blue haze flickering over the weapon to show that the minor magics were still active upon it.

Deal's eyes had remained riveted on Trevor and his toy, but when she realized that she was no longer being held she jumped up and darted across camp. Trevor's head snapped up, rage in his eyes, but when he saw Melinda he calmed. "Leave her. We can't afford to wait for Sacha; I'll be damned if I'll bide my time for an ilyatha."

Melinda knew the word; it meant "friend yet unproven". The Trychtari were distrustful by nature, and Trevor more so than most; they would not consider a person a "true friend" until they had proven their worth somehow, usually in battle. She found it odd, though, that he considered Deal ilyatha; he usually named strangers larasta: "enemies who have not harmed me". Perhaps her love had found a soft spot in his heart for the child.

"Trevor..." Melinda paused, not quite sure what to say.

He made a sound that was more a growl than a sigh and placed the glaive to the side. "How much time did you promise him? Ten minutes?"

"Five. And I told him to go back for Sacha."

Trevor scowled. "That was foolish. Sacha is dead."

"You don't know that."

"But you do. Sacha is dead and Jorgran will soon follow." He retrieved his weapon and struggled to his feet. "Come, we will waste no more time on the dead."

He stood to his full height and shouted, "Everyone, move out now!"

Melinda shook her head. She knew that Jorgran would pull through. He always managed somehow. But she didn't want to be the first person he ran into when he tracked them down.

Pether stood on the top of Tower 42 East, watching as the sun rose over the Marikna Ridge, a soft mist filtering the early morning light. This is why I take the night watch, he thought to himself, as a joy filled him. Pether towered over most of the other Humans at 6'8", almost as tall as the Carapacians that lived with them, monitoring the border. The towers spread from west to east in sets of two, from the Zalaia River to the Marikna Ridge, 84 towers total. Each set of Towers guarded a Gate, a hole in the border large enough for small armies to pass through with only minimum effect from the enchantments that the line created.

Pether heard a slight scraping as Cl'x, his relief showed up. Cl'x was a Carapacian, and her family had served at the Towers for several generations. No one was sure where the Carapacians came from, as far as anyone could tell they were created by the magic of the border before the towers went up. Some said that they were actual manifestations of the border itself, and that is where their innate control of the border came from.

"Mornin' Cl'x." Pether pronounced her name almost perfectly. He was one of the few of his kind that had gone through the trouble to learn the large bug-like creatures language, and he spoke it incredibly well for a Human.

Cl'x loomed over Pether in a way that most Humans found threatening, though Pether knew it was just a ritual morning greeting, and handed him a cup of herbal tea. "Good dawn to you, Pether. I relieve you of duty. May your dreams bring you beauty."

Pether took a sip of the rich drink and then yawned wide. "Mmm, thanks. Sleep sounds good." He stretched and looked thoughtfully out over the valley once more. "You know, Cl'x, all my buds from the academy thought I'd gotten a raw deal when I was posted to this gate. I'd thought so, too, then. No one uses Marikna; it's not on a contested border and it's not on any trade lines. Even Torq'ln are not stupid enough to try for this gate. Not a place to find glory. Even so, I find that I am content here."

The large insectoid beat her spear once across her carapace in agreement. "I, too, have felt the call to do battle run deep in my blood. Like you, I find the pulse soften in beauty. But do not mistake one that sleeps for dead. And do not underestimate the stupidity of those anxious to escape this land."

Pether snapped his teeth together in the Carapacian expression of mild surprise/confusion. "What is this? Do you know of coming trouble?"

Cl'x answered without turning her attention from the horizon, "Ranchut has chased someone into Dragon's Death. If they've lasted that long against the emperor's lap dog, they'll survive the dragon."

Pether looked suprised, "I didn't think anyone could avoid Ranchut for that long, and Dragon's Death is only a days march from here. Perhaps we'd best ready for a battle then."

Cl'x glanced disdainfully at Pether, "I already have."