The Age of Supremacy: Part 3

A Novel of Vengeance, Betrayal and the Wyrd

By Tacita Shee-Slaugh

 

Chapter 7

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Twilight descended over the Glomdoring forest, and for the first time in many days there were no screams. Yet a cloying stillness enveloped the humid treescape, mist clinging to each leaf like a lover's caress sticky with blood. Miara slept well for the first time in some days, grateful to Llain for the dreamweaver's gentle nudge into sleep. She woke just as the last of Father Sun disappeared over the horizon, feeling deliciously well rested, and looked about to find the bed empty.

 

'Llain?' she called out, strapping her greaves around her calves and thighs. /Where'd you go, love?/

 

/Faethorn, harvesting. I didn't realise how late it'd gotten. Did you sleep alright?/

 

Stretching languidly before shrugging into her mail shirt, Miara smiled drowsily. /Like a novice. Thank you./

 

/Glad to help/, came her wife's reply. Llain's voice, even telepathically, sounded tired and strained.

 

/You didn't do so well?/ Miara asked, furrowing her brow in concern.

 

/Not so much. It's hard to keep myself asleep, I keep wanting to get up and wander about./

 

Miara smirked. Llain had always had trouble with sleepwalking ever since she had become a dreamweaver - her mind was far too active when it should be calm and restful. Breaking off the mental connection, she tied her swords around her waist and headed out. As she stepped into the portals, Miara half expected to be hit by a barrage of tells letting her know about new deaths - but instead it was eerily quiet. Frowning, she made her way first to check on the traps outside Haloia's den - they were undisturbed. With a disappointed scuffling of her feet she went on to the Wyrdling, following Kwaray's scent to see how she had gotten on.

 

When she found the Mistress of the Bloodhunt, she appeared at first to be asleep - her ursine form curled up next to Deera, her rage worg. It was Deera who first alerted Kwaray to the fact that all was not as it seemed, however - the worg was whining and nosing urgently at Kwaray's face. Rushing over in a clanking of metal, Miara yanked her gauntlets off with her teeth and pressed her fingers to the folds of Kwaray's neck, searching through the muscle for a pulse.

 

There was none.

 

Realisation settled over Miara like a gust of cold air, stilling her into sudden inaction. With a sharp breath, she bought herself slowly back into reality, the tae'dae's corpse returning to sharp focus.

 

/Vuuak./

 

/Yes, Keeper?/

 

/Kwaray./

 

/What about her?/

 

/She's dead./

 

No reply came, but with another deep breath Miara could smell the Chieftain rushing towards the Wyrdling, his scent flying through the tunnels. When he burst through into the room, she was still kneeling before the Mistress's body, one hand clutching the gauntlet she had thrown aside.

 

'Smothered?' asked Vuuak, looking around at the clean surroundings.

 

Miara nodded. 'It looks like it.' Leaning to the side, she reached out a hand and offered it, palm up, to Deera. The rage worg shied away, ducking her head back into Kwaray's body and whining again. 'Pity we can't ask her who did it,' she mused aloud, nodding towards Deera. Sighing, she shook her head and returned to business. 'We should get the Regent.'

 

Just as Vuuak nodded at her, the Regent's voice echoed over the commune aether. 'We have two commune members down. Would the Shadow Court please join me at the Queen's body immediately.'

 

Before Miara's eyes, the colour drained from Vuuak's face as if poured out. His hands twitched at his sides, and his stare glazed over with pain. 'Grayley,' he murmured breathily, voice cracking on the syllables.

 

The Keeper stepped forward, catching the Chieftain under the arms as he collapsed down onto the floor next to the Mistress's body. No sobs came from his throat, but the warrior's body trembled from head to toe so violently that Miara wrapped her arms around him and held him still, his own arms hanging loosely at his sides. Closing her eyes to abate the anger rising in her belly, Miara inhaled deeply.

 

/Regent, I'm with the Chieftain. I will get him there, but we will be - he is - he didn't know./

 

Haloia's voice echoed in her head, full of sudden regret. /Keeper...I didn't think. Forgive me. But this - this is new./

 

/New?/ Miara frowned, shifting to take more of the Chieftain's weight as he slumped fully against her.

 

/The Queen of the Night wasn't stabbed, or smothered. She was bludgeoned. The Maestro of the Lament is also dead, but he was stabbed. We have not yet found a victim of smothering./

 

/Kwaray/, replied Miara blankly, her eyes darting to the tae'dae's body. /Kwaray is here, in the Wyrdling. She was smothered./

 

/Three dead.../ whispered the Regent in disbelief. /Take your time. We need you, but we will wait./

 

Miara waited until Vuuak's shaking had calmed, holding him with stoic resolve. She briefly tried to imagine how she would feel if Llain had been the one who was killed, and dismissed it quickly. It was not something that she wanted to think about - not if even the man as great as the one who she held in her arms could be bought down so low by such a loss.

 

Focusing, she tried to think of how she could help snap the Chieftain out of it.

 

'You need to see her body,' she said after a long moment's thought. 'It won't feel right until you do. No matter how bad it is.'

 

Vuuak lifted his head and stared blankly at her, his eyes devoid of all emotion. He still slumped heavily against her, wings resting flat against his back and his arms drooping. 'Yes,' he said after a period of silence, in a blank and croaking voice. 'Yes.'

 

Planting one foot on the floor to get purchase, Miara lifted Vuuak to a standing position. Though she was a good two feet taller than the shadowlord, lifting someone in full plate was no mean feat - and they were sprawled in an ungainly position that made it hard to stand. With some effort, however, they managed to clatter out of the guildhall, leaving Kwaray's body behind them - a grief guard kept by the stalwart companion that was her rage worg.

 

By the time they reached the top of the Black Tower, where a crowd had begun to gather, Vuuak had regained the strength (or rather the composure) to walk of his own volition, though he marched close to Miara's side. She fell into step slightly behind him, one arm lingering at his back ready to help keep him going.

 

'No one will expect you to look normal,' she murmured softly in his ear as they ascended the stairs.

 

He glanced over at her, a brief flash of pain in his expression. 'All the more reason to try and do so.'

 

She couldn't blame him. He was the last of the Ysav'rai kinship, a lineage that had run through Glomdoring for centuries. All the glory and burden of his name now weighed wholly upon him - much like the Nightshade name did on Jemdir. Not for the first time, Miara counted herself lucky that she still had Llain and Dakuni. Even with Rymiel's death, they did not feel quite so outnumbered as Vuuak and Jemdir must do, or even Sanshaj and Wuttif.

 

Thinking of Wuttif, Miara couldn't help but remember Kwaray - she wondered if the Mistress had been successful in stopping him from acting, or if she had died before she'd gotten the chance to interfere. Either way, Miara could not be certain of Wuttif's innocence - though it made it a little more likely. Of course, with only one death a night, it was entirely possible that of the many assassins they took it in turns to deliver the final blow. If so, could Miara possibly catch them all in a single night? Or could Kwaray have stopped them? It seemed unlikely, and that made it all the more dangerous.

 

As she and Vuuak reached the crowd, they parted like a cresting wave - allowing the remaining Ebonguard access. Glancing over at Eliaei Shee-Slaugh, she met his concerned gaze and shook her head.

 

/Of course he's not okay/, she said in reply to his look. /But he is the Merciless Chieftain of the Ravenwood, and he will stand before the commune even as he looks on his wife's corpse./

 

/It's brutal/, warned Eliaei, turning back to glance at the yet-concealed body. /Even by our standards./

 

Miara lifted her shoulders ever so lightly with a tiny shrug, mail clinking under plate. /He needs to see it/, she said simply, reiterating her earlier words to Vuuak himself. Eliaei nodded very slightly in response, and Miara turned her attention back to their slow procession towards the Queen's corpse. Eliaei fell into step beside her as they walked, the ascendant's feet barely making a noise on the tower floor.

 

As the last of the crowed parted, however, both Miara and Eliaei stepped forward to place strengthening touches at Vuuak's back - the two of them managing to keep him afloat even as he slumped back against them.

 

Grayley's body had not been smothered, or stabbed. Nor had it been killed by any traditional weapon of the Glomdoring, or any ability obviously of a particular guild. No, she had been brutally and totally crushed by some sort of blunt weapon. Her skull was caved in at the side, and pink bits of gore splattered around behind it in a halo of bloody brain parts. Each of her limbs had been beaten so thoroughly that the bones had collapsed inside them like battered sacks of meat, and even more blood oozed out of the few places where the corner of the weapon had done enough to open a wound. Her skin was black and indigo with bruising, though it was mostly concealed beneath the sheer quantity of blood that had been exhumed from her body in the violent process.

 

It was the single most brutal thing that Miara had ever seen; and it terrified her.

 

/Hold him up/, she said to Eliaei urgently. /I need to work out what did this. He needs to know./

 

Nodding, the ascendant placed one arm around the Chieftain's waist and braced himself, supporting the faeling upright without too much trouble. Releasing her grip on his shoulder, Miara stepped in front of Vuuak and knelt down next to Grayley's legs, calling for a torch to be bought closer so that she could examine the wounds.

 

Checking around the bruising, she tried to gauge the shape of the weapon. It was round, certainly - with a head, since there were some parts of the bruising that looked long and thin, whilst others were of greater impact. A mace of some kind, then - a generic one, with no spike or other adornment, designed to crush rather than draw blood or open wounds. It had almost done the trick, save for the few places where the sheer weight of the blow had managed to burst open flesh and skin regardless.

 

Another anonymous killer with an anonymous weapon, their method chosen to obfuscate and confuse.

 

'Keeper?' someone asked, their voice brushing at the edge of Miara's consciousness. Slowly she dragged herself back to reality, raising her head to look at the audience.

 

Standing, she began to explain in a low voice. 'A mace,' she said, 'or a crude blunt weapon with a round head.'

 

'A cudgel?'

 

'No,' stated Miara clearly, not wanting anyone to get that impression. 'Not a cudgel, definitely. This was a metal implement - the bruises are too smooth for it to have been wooden, and there are no splinters in the wounds.' She leant back onto her haunches and stood in a fluid movement, turning her blue gaze on Vuuak. 'It would have been someone with considerable strength. Almost certainly not a faeling, even a shadowlord - the weapon would have been too big for them. An expanded demigod is possible, but unlikely; they still wouldn't have the strength required to leave wounds like this. Furrikin, trill, those sorts of races are all unlikely too for the same reasons.'

 

The Regent nodded, stepping forward. 'That narrows it down somewhat. In fact...' she paused, tail flicking in slight agitation, and glanced over at Tabmili. The aslaran shared a meaningful look with her loboshigaru wife, and Miara could feel an uncomfortable silence settling about the room.

 

Whilst many noticed but remained silent, Vuuak chose this moment to come back to the waking world. 'In fact,' he snarled in a low voice, 'a loboshigaru would be just the right size and strength to make wounds like this.'

 

Tabmili Llaewell bristled and stepped towards Vuuak, but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. She turned to glare at her wife, who met the expression with a level and regretful gaze. 'It would,' said the Regent gently, turning her attention to Vuuak. 'You are right. And Rawoka...Rawoka did not come back to the den, yesterday. I cannot vouch for his whereabouts.'

 

A mixture of expressions flashed across Vuuak's face, and he flicked his eyes over the assembled crowd in an attempt to spot the herbalist. 'Where is he?' demanded the Chieftain, when his search did not come to fruition.

 

'In the Lord's realm,' said Eliaei after a moment, having released his hold on Vuuak to brush his fingers over a brooch on his belt. Turning to the Regent, he tilted his head. 'Shall I fetch him?'

 

'Please,' Haloia said as she nodded again. 'It is best that we sort this now.' The ascendant nodded and began to pray for pilgrimage to the Silent Lord's realm.

 

With a low growl, Tabmili grabbed at her wife's elbow and let out a bark of anger. 'Rawoka would not do something like this!' she exclaimed.

 

Haloia met her angry gaze with one of regret and helplessness, as a soft whooshing sound accompanied Eliaei's departure. 'We do not know that,' she said softly, glancing over at Grayley's decimated corpse. 'We do not know anything, anymore.'

 

Whilst they waited for the Silent Avatar to return, Miara passed her eyes critically over Vuuak. His collapsed despair had gone, replaced by a focused anger and need for vengeance that she recognised clearly. It was how she had felt when Rymiel was killed; only a dozen times stronger. The Chieftain had gone from unable to stand to unable to stand still, his wings beating incessantly as he darted back and forth next to his wife's body.

 

/Whatever you may think of her, and what she did/, he said into Miara's mind, interrupting her study, /she was still my wife./

 

/I gathered that/, she replied bluntly, /from the fact that you stayed with her despite all that she did./

 

Vuuak let out a low and hollow chuckle, startling some of the gathered commune members, as he met Miara's eyes over Grayley's body. /Perhaps I'm just an idiot./

 

/Perhaps she was worth it./

 

The Chieftain made no reply to that, instead ceasing his pacing and coming to rest at the Keeper's side, placing one hand on her shoulder. Miara took it to be an expression of agreement, albeit one that he could not quite bring himself to say out loud. They waited there amidst the quiet hum of the conversing commune, or what remained of it - there were fewer and fewer people there each night, and not everyone had come to see Grayley's body. Some, Miara could smell, were still with the Maestro's body - Seregmor had died near their guildhall, in a similar place to Ilatrea, and Beria and Helegena were there with Jemdir.

 

A commotion from the stairwell alerted them to the approach of Eliaei and Rawoka, the latter being dragged along by the arm. The loboshigaru walked with his head lowered, the clinking of vials that always accompanied him seeming at odds with the sombre mood. As the moonlight fell on Rawoka where he walked, Miara noticed something strange - streaking the fur around his face were several damp lines like tear marks. It was not the face of a murderer this brutal, yet something felt strange about the way that he was carrying himself - and more importantly, the expression of utter distaste on the Warden's face as he dragged the alchemist behind him.

 

'Tell them what you told me,' he snarled in a voice most unlike him, tossing the loboshigaru to the floor. Holding the hand that had touched Rawoka daintily to his neck, Eliaei repeated, 'look at her body and tell them what you told me.'

 

A broken, ragged sound emitted from Rawoka's lungs and he vomited on the floor as he was forced to stare at Grayley's body. Across from them, Miara and Vuuak could see realisation settling into Haloia's face - and horror dawning across Tabmili's.

 

'I...killed her,' panted Rawoka at length, wiping vomit from his muzzle with a shaking hand. 'I thought - I thought -'

 

'You thought what?' asked Haloia coldly, her voice a low hiss that sent shivers down the spines of anyone who dared to look at her expression.

 

Rawoka cowed before the Regent's anger, holding his hands over his ears. 'I thought she was one of the killers,' he spluttered, shaking from head to tail. 'After the Regent - the old Regent - died, it seemed like too much of a show. Too much of a sham, as if she'd put it on so that no one would suspect her.'

 

Arching an eyebrow, Haloia stepped forward and loomed over Rawoka's foetal body, folding her arms across her chest. 'And we should believe this why?' she asked. 'The Queen bore no token of the killers. We have searched her, and her quarters, and there is no evidence of her guilt for the stabbings. No bloody clothes or used knife. She was innocent, Rawoka. Even if your story is true, she was innocent of the crime you took it upon yourself to assume was hers. We have a process for this, and you know that. I do not believe that you would have taken it upon yourself to exact Brother Crow's justice. Nay...' Pausing, she glanced over at Tabmili, who nodded in the tiniest of movements. 'Nay,' she continued, 'I would go so far as to say that I believe you more capable of being a ruthless killer than of such idiocy as this.'

 

'No!' barked Rawoka, clawing at the Regent's tunic. 'No, please believe me, Haloia - I was so certain. I am not lying, I swear, by Grandmother Scorpion and all of the Idols...'

 

Tearing her tunic from his grasp, Haloia unsheathed her nekai and held them crossed against Rawoka's throat, the screeching they made as they brushed one another chilling the onlookers to the bone. 'You dare to invoke the Idols?' she hissed in an icy voice, tail held totally still behind her as if ready to pounce. 'You are not even fit to bear the name of the Coven you serve, Rawoka. Not in the slightest.'

 

Raising her head, she announced on the commune aether: All will come before Brother Crow. For his crimes, Rawoka Llaewell is to be given up to Him for carrion.

 

In a flurry of blades, she resheathed her nekai and stalked away towards the nexus. Miara glanced over at Eliaei, and together they reached down and picked Rawoka up roughly, dragging him along behind them even as he continued to protest in increasingly panicked tones. Though he did not thrash about, it still took them some time to get him to the nexus. During that time people raised their voices in agreement with the Regent's decision, slowly sealing Rawoka's fate through a majority.

 

However, as they threw him at the base of the Ravenwood and looked to Haloia to summon forth Brother Crow, there came a frantic cry from the tunnels below.

 

'Wait!' called the youthful voice, and the commune turned to see Beria Stormcrow bundling through from the dirt, panting for breath. 'Wait, please!'

 

Lowering her arms where they had been raised to call the Great Spirit, Haloia turned to Beria and met her eyes with an imperious gaze. 'What?'

 

With a gulp, Beria pointed at Rawoka. 'He's innocent,' she said simply, as Helegena came to join her niece at her side. 'Not of the murder, necessarily - but he's loyal to the Wyrd. I swear to you, Messiah, he is.'

 

Miara stared at Beria, trying to work out what reason the girl could possibly have for defending Rawoka - save for her words being the truth. She could think of none. 'You investigated him?' she asked quickly, stepping between Rawoka and the others. 'You are certain?'

 

'Let it be my head for Brother Crow if I am wrong,' urged Beria, clasping her hands together in front of her. 'If you kill him, it will only be the murderers that you help.'

 

'Like he helped them by killing the Queen!' exclaimed Wuttif, speaking up for the first time. 'He deserves nothing but a death as brutal as he gave her!'

 

Looking around desperately for help, Beria struggled to make her point. 'I know,' she said, 'I know, but please - if they overrun us, we are all lost. We cannot give him up, not now, not even with what he's done.' Turning to Vuuak, she held her hands out in supplication. 'Please, Chieftain. No one can forgive what he did - but if we kill him, then we are one step closer to our doom.'

 

Vuuak stared blankly at Beria for a moment, before stepping forward and reaching with a gauntlet, tilting the druidess's face up with one finger tucked under her chin. To her credit Beria did not flinch, staring up at him with the same unblinking conviction. They remained that way for some time, his eyes searching hers for the truth.

 

'Regent,' he said levelly after a deep breath, 'What do you think?'

 

With a sigh, Haloia glanced down at Rawoka. 'He deserves death for what he has done,' she stated with certainty and a grimace. 'But the Druidess is right.'

 

'We will kill him,' said Vuuak in a soft voice, and Rawoka let out a cry of panic - which the Chieftain cut off as he continued. 'After this. After this sorry mess is over and done with, we will give him to Mother Night and She will avenge Her chosen one.'

 

Miara watched as Vuuak's face washed over with a strange calm, and she worried for him. He had told her so many times not to lose her emotions lest she become unable to understand the world around her, and what they were aiming for - and before her eyes it looked as if he were doing just that. She hoped that the strain of it would not be too much for him.

 

'I agree,' she said, stepping forward and placing a hand on Vuuak's shoulder. 'We cannot ignore my cousin's warning, not when she has been right so much of this time. But he will not go unpunished for his treachery.'

 

'It shall be so,' Haloia announced with a nod, glaring down at Rawoka. 'You are on borrowed time, Rawoka Llaewell. Make yourself useful. If you slay another innocent member of this commune, then I swear by all that is Wyrden I will gut you myself and feast on your innards.'

 

The commune dispersed with awkward shuffling movements, the sun threatening to rise without too much delay. A rising thrum went through the forest as the few that remained discussed what had happened in hushed tones, their voices buzzing like the wings of the wasps in the northern portion of the forest.

 

Uncertain that the commune would be wholly in agreement, Miara took a small gamble and set the traps up outside Rawoka's resting place that day. There were only fifteen of them left now, and she was certain of the innocence of at least seven of them. Yet with each killing, it became more and more likely that someone she knew and cared about was guilty of something - and the more this happened, the more nervous Miara became. She needed information, more of it, and watching over Rawoka seemed the most likely to glean her information.

 

Once that was done she met up with Llain, who had been watching over Beria since the arguments at the nexus.

 

'How is she?' Miara asked, knowing that Beria would be alright in the end but nonetheless curious.

 

Llain cocked her head in thought. 'She's - actually, she's fine,' she said after a moment's pause. 'I think the responsibility, the gift she has, it's made her grow. She's stronger for all the adversity.'

 

Smiling softly, Miara nodded. 'I've never seen her stand up to anyone like that before. Especially Haloia. Most people wouldn't try and argue against her at all before, let alone now that she's Regent.'

 

'True,' chuckled Llain softly, lacing her fingers through Miara's. 'I suppose some good had to come out of this whole debacle.'

 

'Small fragments of it,' agreed Miara, frowning slightly. 'Not enough to make up for everything that's happened.'

 

'How is Vuuak?'

 

'Broken,' the human replied with brutal honesty, sighing. 'It's like someone took all of the emotion out of him. I'm not sure he'll be the same until this is all over and Rawoka is dead for what he did.'

 

Llain shuffled uncomfortably on the spot. 'I wouldn't be,' she said softly, and Miara's eyes flickered to the faeling's. 'If it were you.'

 

'It wasn't,' Miara stated firmly, crushing her lips against Llain's. 'And it won't be.'

 

'No,' Llain said with the same certainty. 'It won't be.'

 

Chapter 8

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As dusk fell the following night, Miara and Llain edged out into the portals with trepidation. The same thick silence that had hung over the forest each evening for a week was present; the only sound the clanking of Miara's armour as she stepped out of the manse. This time, however, they were not alone when they stepped outside. Sanshaj was standing there, a similarly nervous expression on his face.

 

'Good evening, Lord Song,' said Llain with a small smile, trying to quell the tension somewhat.

 

Sanshaj inclined his head. 'Lady Wyrmglow. Keeper. Ready to face the night?'

 

'I do not believe we have a choice,' Miara remarked simply, brushing idly at the hilts of her swords. 'It doesn't sound like many other people are about yet. We should search the commune.'

 

Nodding, Llain glanced back and forth. 'Where first?'

 

'The Tower and the Court?' suggested Sanshaj, tilting his head. 'They are the most often frequented. And...several others have been found in them.'

 

'The Court first,' agreed Miara, 'then the Tower.'

 

Taking the lead, she headed off to the west towards the Shadow Court. Llain and Sanshaj fell into step just behind her, flanking her on either side. They fell into a somewhat less uncomfortable silence than the forest had been in previously, the strength in numbers lending some assistance to the trepidation that was weighing on all of their minds.

 

It did not take them long to get to the Shadow Court, and they found it empty - save for Mitmit, the widow spider bonded to the Lady of Thorns, who sat there stoically staring at the world around her without comment.

 

Sighing, they turned and made their way towards the Black Tower, climbing up out of the tunnels and travelling past the Master Ravenwood. Oddly, there was no one else gathered there - not even Rawoka, who was so often present that he almost seemed to be part of the furniture. It was not entirely unsurprising though - given what Rawoka had done the previous day - that he would be cowering still in the Llaewell den. Glancing over in its vague direction, Miara made a mental note to go and check her traps once they were done with their search.

 

As they passed the Drums of the Dead, Llain perked her head up and inhaled sharply. Hearing the noise Miara stilled, turning round to look curiously at her wife.

 

'Something wrong?' she asked, noticing where Llain's brow was furrowed in either concern or concentration.

 

The faeling nodded, the frown still set on her face. 'I can smell blood,' she said in a soft voice, glancing to the south. 'It's coming from the larder, I think, or close to it.'

 

'Any idea whose?' asked Sanshaj, before shaking his head at himself. 'I suppose we should just go and look.'

 

Miara made no noise of agreement, instead turning and stalking off through the forest, her hands ghosting to rest just above the hilts of her rapiers. Sanshaj and Llain followed her several paces behind, their wings beating to keep up with the human's larger strides. She made it to the spider's larder in a few moments, and inhaled sharply as she spotted the body.

 

The fur that covered Tabmili Llaewell's body was matted with blood, the stab wounds clear where it parted with a sticky, glistening sheen. Much like the other stabbing victims, there was no rhyme or reason - or even skill - to their application, only brutality. Miara grimaced, but stepped around the body, her eyes searching for something.

 

'Here,' said the Lord Song, pointing towards a tiny red glint. 'One of the marks.'

 

Miara plucked the token from the loboshigaru's belt, turning it over in her hands. 'I suppose we owe one of the killers a thanks of sorts, then,' she murmured aloud, sighing. 'I thought better of her.'

 

'Not sure how I feel about owing them anything,' mumbled Llain, whacking at a stray thornbeast with her cudgel as it tried to make its way in. Next to her, Sanshaj nodded in agreement. 'Do you think the Regent knows?'

 

'I think we would know if the Regent knew,' said Miara with a sigh. 'There would be a lot more shouting. I suppose we ought to tell her. That's going to go down well, isn't it? Pardon me, Messiah, but it turns out that your wife was a filthy assassin. Also, she's dead.'

 

Llain grimaced and gave Miara an odd look at her flippant tone. 'I wonder which of those is the worst part.'

 

'The assassin part,' said Miara and Sanshaj in unison, before snorting wry chuckles. Removing her helm and brushing her hair down needlessly - the chestnut locks were in place as they always were - Miara sighed again. 'I'll do the honours.'

 

/Regent?/ she asked telepathically, not sure if she would get any response at this early hour.

 

/Just a moment, Keeper/, came the reply after several long moments' pause. /I'm trying to find my wife. What is it you need? I'll be with you soon./

 

/Tabmili is here, Regent./

 

A hesitant tone crept into Haloia's reply as Miara felt her aetheric senses tingle where she was being scried. /At the larder? Odd place for a gathering./

 

/We found her here./

 

/You found/ - began the Regent, before breaking off abruptly. /I'm on my way./

 

Miara turned to the others, her face grave. 'Haloia is coming,' she said simply, and tucked her helm under her arm. 'I suppose we should also find Rawoka and tell him.'

 

'That can wait,' said the Lord Song with an expression of distaste, which the women nodded in agreement with. 'How did the Regent sound?'

 

'Urgent,' Miara replied, glancing out to the southwest where she could smell someone rushing through the Gloriana river in some considerable haste. 'Here she comes.'

 

Haloia Llaewell entered in a characteristically silent fashion, the environment seeming to hush around her as she did so. Her eyes lit quickly on her wife's body, and a shadow flashed across the aslaran's face. Gripping at the hilts of her nekai, her fingers tightened until the fur stood on end and her eyes glowed brightly.

 

'Regent,' Miara said softly, causing the aslaran to glance up sharply at her. 'There is something else you should see.'

 

With no more words to give, Miara held out her hand and turned it over, opening her fingers to reveal the damning gem on her palm. Haloia stared blankly at it for several long moments, before prowling over to Miara and leaning in close. For a second Miara thought to put herself on guard for an assault, but it was over quickly when Haloia plucked the gem from her palm with a movement so fast it could barely be seen.

 

'On her body?' she asked in an empty voice, her face still devoid of any emotion. Miara nodded, unable to think of anything better to do. 'I see.'

 

Llain and Sanshaj stepped to the side as Haloia moved closer to the body, kneeling down next to it and staring intently into Tabmili's still open eyes. They had glazed over with dehydration and emptiness, but still looked eerily alive as dead eyes always did. With the sort of calm movement that belied her feelings, Haloia tucked the assassin's token into a pouch and drew one of her nekai from her belt. Sanshaj started slightly, but Miara raised a hand and stilled him, a side glance insisting that he let the Regent finish whatever she needed to do.

 

/We need her to be functional/, Miara told him silently. /Whatever she has to do to get there, she gets it. We cannot survive this without a Regent./

 

Sanshaj nodded at her, and they turned their attention back to the Llaewells. Haloia took the tip of her nekai and brushed it across Tabmili's face almost lovingly, but the gesture was as cold as the steel it was made with - as in a small, flicking motion she plunged it into Tabmili's eye socket and plucked out the juicy, glazed eyeball that rested there. Taking the severed optic into her hand, Haloia repeated the movement with the other eye, plucking it out so that Tabmili's canine face was left with two gaping, bloody holes either side of her muzzle.

 

Rocking back on her haunches, Haloia turned the eyeballs in her hand pensively as if pondering something. Then, in one rough grip, she crushed them - juices and blood dribbling out between her fingers and matting her fur.

 

'I should have noticed sooner,' she said in a rough voice, getting to her feet. 'But she was too good. There were no signs.'

 

'What's done is done,' said Llain softly, hovering closer to Miara's side. 'Brother Crow would have you take the lessons from it and forget the errors.'

 

Haloia eyed Llain levelly for some time before nodding. 'Then let us not make any more,' she said, some of the normal confidence coming back into her tone. 'Is this the only corpse?'

 

'We don't know,' answered Sanshaj. 'We were heading for the Tower when we smelt the blood here. The Shadow Court is empty of this carnage, also.'

 

Nodding, Haloia glanced out towards the northeast. 'Let's continue, then. There are still many people asleep; it would be good to find the victims, if there are any more, before too many people get up and turn this into a cacophony.'

 

The others murmured agreements and fell into step beside the Regent as she strode off into the forest, her wife's desecrated body left forgotten on the ground for the spiders to claim as carrion. The stirrings of other commune members could be heard as they made their way towards the Tower, and Miara twitched slightly with the need to check her traps before they were disturbed. Rawoka had been kept in the tunnels below the tower, so Miara had placed her traps around the way down into them (doing her best to make sure that the mutated mushroom that menaced the tunnels was going to be unable to disturb them, but any assassins were assured to).

 

Once they entered the Tower, Miara glanced over in the direction of the tunnels. 'Regent,' she said hesitantly, pursing her lips, 'someone should inform Rawoka.'

 

A brief expression of distaste flashed over Haloia's face, but she inclined her head in agreement. 'If you could, Keeper. We will check upstairs.'

 

'I'd go with you,' murmured Llain, 'but I might accidentally slip and summon wasps around him.'

 

Smiling wryly, Miara brushed a kiss against the faeling's forehead. 'Go with Haloia and Sanshaj. I'll come and join you when I'm done.'

 

Once Llain, Haloia and Sanshaj had left, Miara turned her attention to the descent into the tunnels. To her horror, it was immediately obvious that the traps had been disturbed - the strings had been torn as someone passed through, and there were footprints ruffling up the ground where she had carefully removed it of all blemish so that they would stand out. Leaping over them so as not to disturb them further, she rushed through the tunnels to find Rawoka.

 

The loboshigaru was dead, indeed; strangled, though this killing was unique compared to all of the others. Rather than lying peacefully, Rawoka Llaewell had been strung up against one wall of the cavern, his arms pinned above his head and legs trussed together. A grimace of intense pain was etched eternally on his face, and where his robes had been torn open the fur around his neck was matted as if he had been strangled - though the marks around his mouth also suggested that he was smothered. This was not just the cold, calculating killing that the other smotherings had been - whoever had killed Rawoka Llaewell had wanted to make an example of him, or was exacting some passionate revenge upon his person.

 

A panicked feeling rose in Miara's chest; there was one person who immediately sprang to mind that would with all certainty have wanted to both make an example of and take revenge upon the alchemist. Diving back towards her traps, she began to study the footprints intently, hoping beyond all hope that they would not turn out to be the Chieftain's.

 

They were not.

 

The relief of this was quashed quickly, though, as Miara realised precisely whose footprints they were. So light, they were almost invisible - the silent steps of a form that transcended humanity, even demigodhood. The unmistakeable footprints of Eliaei Shee-Slaugh, ascendant of the Glomdoring forest, head of the Silent Order, and previously one of the Ebonguard's most stalwart and loyal defenders. An assassin - who was still out there, evading detection save for the knowledge she now had.

 

Pain blossomed in her mind and she scuffed violently at the traps and footprints, removing all evidence of them. If she had thought the pain of losing Dyss, of losing Rymiel, was bad - it was nothing compared to the knowledge that someone she had respected since she was a novice had committed a murder. A murder that did nothing but play into the hands of this secret cult who wished to bring down all that she held dear.

 

Miara Wyrmglow did not consider allowing him to live, even for a moment.

 

Reaching out to Haloia, she did her best to keep her voice as impassive as possible as she said, /Rawoka is dead. I know who did it./

 

/How?/ came the simple reply, though it was mixed with a tangle of emotions that Miara felt a considerable empathy for.

 

/Smothered/, she told the Regent bluntly. /I know who the assassin is./

 

Haloia made no further reply, but came down to the tunnels in short order. Llain and Sanshaj were still with her, as were Beria and Helegena. Clustering around their aunt, Llain and Beria both glanced between Miara and Rawoka's body as they entered, whilst Sanshaj let out a sigh.

 

'Hmm,' hummed Haloia under her breath, eyeing Rawoka's corpse blankly. 'This is different. Your assessment, Keeper?'

 

'He died to the same smothering as the others,' explained Miara as coolly as she could manage, 'but it looks as if he was tortured before that. As well as the obvious, he's been strangled and probably beaten physically - I haven't examined him in enough detail as there seemed no point.'

 

'Because you know who did it. May I ask how?'

 

This was clearly the first time Haloia had relayed this information to the others, because a hushed murmur went between the others as she did. Ignoring them, Miara gestured vaguely towards the tunnels where they led away. 'Footprints,' she said simply. 'I set traps around Rawoka last night to make sure I would catch anyone who came near him. It's how I knew that some other people were innocent, as well - I've spotted them elsewhere.'

 

Haloia nodded. 'Alright then. Who did it?'

 

Pausing to inhale deeply and steady herself, Miara brushed her hands over her face before replying. 'Eliaei did.'

 

'Well,' replied Haloia slowly, glancing over at Rawoka's body. 'I imagine you would not be so quick to accuse your guildmembers if you were lying.'

 

Miara let out a broken, wry chuckle - the first sign of any emotion that she had shown since the others entered. Quashing it before it had a chance to overtake her entirely, she found herself understanding just how necessary it had been for Vuuak to quell his own emotions when faced with Grayley's body.

 

'I'm certain.'

 

'I believe you, Keeper,' said the Regent carefully, looking over to Beria. 'You had not had a chance to examine his intentions?'

 

Beria shook her head. 'I haven't. I know...hold on, I made a list.' Pausing, she reached into her robes and took out a small scroll. 'Ila - oh well, that's not so relevant. Taerrick, not so much either. You're, ah, innocent, Regent. So was Rawoka. And Dakuni is too. I suppose only you and Dakuni are useful, there.'

 

'It's good to know, nonetheless,' said Haloia, sighing softly. 'Keep working as you are, Druidess. Your information is invaluable.' Turning to Miara, she added, 'as is yours, Keeper. Now I believe we have someone to deliver to Brother Crow.'

 

Instructing the commune to gather via the aether, Haloia gestured to the others to go before her. 'I'll round up the stragglers and join you in a moment,' she explained, turning to the other direction.

 

As they turned to go, however, a small cry of surprise came from just around the corner. Glancing around, Miara saw that Beria had rushed off into the other direction of the tunnels.

 

'Beria?' she called out, stepping that way in a clink of armour. 'What is - ah.'

 

Turning the corner, she spotted the faeling standing next to the bludgeoned and most certainly dead body of Cannrin Nightshade. He had clearly been killed in the same way as Grayley Ysav'rai, his brains splattered across the ground.

 

'Perhaps he came to avenge his Queen,' said Beria shakily, flitting back over to Miara. 'And he - Rawoka was faster.'

 

'We'll never know,' said Llain as she joined them, looking down at his body with a frown. 'Stupid Spinner.'

 

'I'll tell the Regent,' sighed Miara, and did so. 'We ought to catch up with the others.'

 

With a nod, Sanshaj led the group as they walked on, leaving Miara flanked by Llain and Beria. Helegena shuffled along behind them, her knitting still clutched in her hand. Miara found the clicking of the needles almost comforting, and could understand why Beria had chosen to spend quite so much time with her aunt. With the weight of the commune weighing on her shoulders, it was good that Beria had someone to turn to. She knew that Llain had been spending a lot of time with them as well, keeping an eye on her cousin - almost to the point of overprotectiveness. What made Helegena's support all the more so was the fact that it came so simply and constantly, without the extremes of emotion created by selfishness and other interferences.

 

As she was thinking, Miara felt a light tap on the plate at her shoulders. The clinking alerted not only her but also Llain and Beria to the noise. All three of them turned to look at Helegena, who was eyeing Miara with a thoughtful look.

 

'Run along, girls,' she said to Llain and Beria, gesturing with the needle she had used to tap Miara on the shoulder. 'I need to speak to the Keeper alone.'

 

The two faelings did as they were told and hurried off to the nexus to join the rest of the commune. Miara came to a halt as Helegena did, tilting her head in curiosity as the old aslaran examined her carefully.

 

'The fewer of us that are present,' Helegena said quietly, 'the more likely it is that those of us who are important to the commune's survival will be targeted.'

 

Nodding, Miara glanced over in the direction where Beria had just left. 'I know. That's why it's more important that we know everything one another does, incase anything should happen to one of us.'

 

'Beria has told you everything that she knows,' asserted Helegena, bristling somewhat at the notion that her niece would have hidden information. 'And you, I suspect, are keeping the identity of those who are important close to your chest.'

 

Miara's lips twisted into a wry smile. 'It seemed counterproductive to endanger those who were looking out for me,' she replied curtly. 'But that I did not work out from my traps. I've been rather unlucky with them, until now.'

 

'I appreciate your silence nonetheless,' said Helegena with a meaningful look. 'I am only of use to Beria whilst I am alive. And you know that I cannot watch out for both of you.'

 

'You have chosen her over me,' stated Miara without any hint of anger. 'I would too.'

 

Helegena nodded. 'But we are reaching a point where I may be taken out. There are only so many people that remain. I can feel a shadow passing over me, Keeper. I do not think I have much time left.'

 

'We will find them before they can take you,' Miara said with a frown, placing one hand on the cultist's shoulder. 'And if you die, then you die protecting the Wyrd.'

 

'So shall we all,' murmured Helegena softly, glancing back towards the nexus. 'We should join the others. Haloia is there and waiting.'

 

Turning to resume their walking, Miara glanced sideways at the Stormcrow matriarch as they strode forward. She looked drawn, tired; moreso than Miara had ever seen her before. It was not surprising that things had taken their toll on her, but Miara could only hope that she did not display this weakness in front of those that would hurt her. If Helegena died, it was not long before she and Beria were gone too.

 

And then, they would have no way of knowing who was responsible for this treachery.

 

Shaking the thought from her mind, Miara crossed the Gloriana and rounded the corner to the Master Ravenwood, Helegena following just beside her. The whole commune - or what remained of it - were gathered there when they arrived, standing in a wide circle next to the towering tree that cast shadows like tendrils of vines down onto the forest floor. Brennan nodded to her as she entered, but did not ask her for anything - it was many months since he had done so, even the ancient undead seeing when the situation was too dire for Mother Night to intervene.

 

Taking a spot next to Vuuak, Miara averted her eyes from his gaze. She could not look at him, not yet - not until he knew that Eliaei was not only guilty of murder, but had taken his revenge from him, the revenge that no one bar Vuuak truly deserved to claim as their own. She did not have enough faith in her acting skill for that; but it would be over soon, she knew, as the acting Regent stepped into the circle and turned to survey the commune about her.

 

'Thank you for coming,' she said in a clear voice that echoed about the nexus. 'As you will no doubt have assumed, we are here to announce those who have been taken from the Glomdoring during this past day. Today we have lost three; two loyal to the Wyrd, and one not. First of these is she who was my wife, Tabmili Llaewell. Know that I renounce all relation to this traitor, and that her body lies as food for the beasts of the forest. Do not interfere with it; let her corpse offer what little benefit she never gave to the Wyrd in her betrayal.'

 

Pausing, Haloia shook her head and let her voice settle back out of anger, replaced by a calm coolness. 'The second victim was Cannrin Nightshade, who was killed by Rawoka Llawell. However, we cannot be certain of why this occurred - as the third victim was Rawoka Llaewell, who had been banished to the lower levels of the Black Tower lest anyone have to look on his murdering visage. The difference with Rawoka, however, is that we know who killed him.'

 

A slow murmur rippled through the commune, neighbours ducking heads together to converse in anticipation of the Regent's announcement. Glancing over at Eliaei, Miara saw that his face had paled slightly in the wake of Haloia's words. She hoped he was pissing himself with fear; he deserved little else. The clinking of platemail next to her alerted her to Vuuak's step forward. He was staring intently at the Regent, leaning slightly forward in anticipation of her announcement.

 

'Rawoka Llaewell was smothered by Eliaei Shee-Slaugh,' said Haloia clearly, raising one hand to point imperiously at the murderer in question. 'I move that he be strung up and fed to Brother Crow for his actions.'

 

'I second this,' added Miara in a voice much stronger than she had feared would come out of her lips. 'He has not only killed a loyal member of the commune, but stolen vengeance that should not have been his.' Turning her gaze on the ascendant, who was now staring blankly about as if he could not quite believe what was occurring, she continued, 'You are unworthy of the mantles you carry, traitor. A swift death is far more than you deserve.'

 

With Miara's speech concluded, the voices of the commune began to rise up in a tumult, rushing forward with a momentum that seemed to thrust Eliaei into the centre of the mob. Gathered nearby, his family turned their backs on him with disgust and nodded in unison to the Regent, declaring themselves free of familial association with the assassin. With their movement and the noise rising as more and more people called for Brother Crow to taste his blood, an almighty caw resounded from the treetops and thrust Eliaei to his knees.

 

'Crow!' exclaimed Brennan Stormcrow, holding his arms high up into the air. 'Glorious Crow!'

 

And with that summons, the Great Spirit descended from the eaves, leaping down upon the ascendant with claw and beak ripping and tearing. Eliaei's screams echoed through the forest and beyond, heard as far afield as the cities, and rang even after Crow had devoured the last of his flesh, throwing it high into the air and swallowing it as it careened towards the floor. Turning His beady eye upon the gathered commune, Crow gave a final, paralysing caw and leapt back onto His perch atop the Master Ravenwood tree.

 

There was nothing left of Eliaei Shee-Slaugh; not even a speck of blood.

 

Chapter 9

---------

 

As the crowd dispersed, Miara felt a gentle tugging on the small bit of sleeve visible at her elbow. Turning towards the movement, she glanced down at Beria Stormcrow, who had a nervous expression on her face.

 

'Cousin?' she asked in a soft, hesitant voice, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 'Are you - can I...' Pausing, she took a small breath as if to steady herself. 'I need to talk to you about something. Would you come to my nest?'

 

Tilting her head as she considered the small faeling, Miara nodded. 'Of course. Would you lead the way? I think I can recall it, but doubtless you know it better.'

 

A small smile played at Beria's lips and she gestured to the south, leading Miara out and around the Master Ravenwood, over the Gloriana bridge towards the border. Beria was quiet as she walked, flitting nimbly amongst the trees with a natural grace. Her nest, perched in the trees above her totem, was along the exit into the southern hills. Miara had been there several times before, usually with Llain to visit. The usual twigs and carrion were decorated in an oddly gaudy fashion, using several ribbons and bells that twinkled in the wind.

 

Climbing up after Beria, she added the clanking of her armour to the cacophony of noise. 'What's on your mind?' she asked, sitting comfortably in the nest once she had ascended fully.

 

Perching on the opposite side of the nest, Beria curled her arms around her knees and creased her brow into a small frown. It took her some time to answer, during which she swayed back and forth lightly on the spot as if considering her words carefully. 'I want to...Auntie Helegena said there's a good chance this could all end quite soon for me, and for her and you - since we're so...important. I don't want to waste my chance to do some good before I go.' With a pause, she worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. 'I...there's someone I was thinking of looking into, today when the sun rises. But I wanted to check, to make sure.'

 

Miara had assumed that Helegena had been helping Beria choose who to investigate, and so the question came as some surprise to her - there was little more that she could offer in terms of wisdom than the aged cultist, who had been in the Glomdoring far longer than any of the rest of them. There was something special indeed here for Beria to be asking her - and the nervous look on her face did not put Miara at ease.

 

'Go on,' she said simply, lacing her fingers together in her lap.

 

With a nervous shuffle Beria continued, her voice a little broken and hesitant. 'It's just that - I know Eliaei was guilty. I believe you. But would he really...Rawoka's body. I don't see why he would have strung him up so. Tortured him. I need to know - do you really believe Grayley's death could have angered him so much that he would do it?'

 

'Perhaps,' began Miara quickly, tapping her thumbs together - but then she paused, and a small speck of doubt began to rise in her mind. 'No,' she corrected, leaning forward. 'It's surprising. The only real tie they have is through Vuuak, or perhaps since she is Mother Night's chosen and he is the avatar of the Silent Lord. But those are the only possible reasons that I can think of.'

 

'That's what I'm afraid of,' said Beria in a small voice, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. 'It means that the only link involves the Chieftain.'

 

The spark of doubt in Miara's mind blossomed into full on panic, and she instantly reeled back from Beria's statement. Across from her the faeling averted her eyes almost in shame at the suggestion, her cheeks flushing with nervous reticence.

 

'You want to investigate Vuuak,' Miara said simply, and she tensed when the druidess nodded. 'I want to tell you that it is impossible. That he couldn't possibly have been responsible for any of this or linked to it at all.'

 

Beria ducked her head again. 'But you can't.'

 

'No. I can't.' Sighing, she considered it for a moment. Beria made an excellent point; there was no reason that Eliaei would have been driven to torture Rawoka, even if he had killed him. It smacked of someone who was much more closely linked to Grayley, someone who had much more cause to be upset. Yet Vuuak had seemed so content with the Regent's decision. Of course...that could simply have been because he was immediately planning the best way to torture and kill his wife's murderer. It still did not add up, however. 'I am certain Eliaei did it, however. Why, if Vuuak wanted to torture Rawoka, would he not have delivered the killing blow himself?'

 

'Perhaps he thought that you might be watching,' said Beria shrewdly, glancing up through long eyelashes. 'Or that I might look into him. Any number of things.'

 

It was an excellent point, and that did not make Miara's panic settle at all. 'So Eliaei was set up as a fall,' she mused aloud, 'in the hope that we would look away from Vuuak as a possibility.'

 

'Or he wanted to support Vuuak, both as a fellow guildmember and a fellow...killer,' Beria continued, some of her hesitance returning slightly.

 

'Do you have any other options?' asked Miara, a hint of resignation edging into her voice. At least it would mean that they would know, even if that was not a good thing for the Chieftain.

 

'Not really,' replied Beria. 'I mean, I'm sort of basically looking through...everyone I haven't looked into. Wuttif has been quiet, Jemdir too, and there are people who are linked to a lot of the dead like Sanshaj. But Vuuak is the only one that I really, truly think might be responsible.'

 

Unlacing her fingers and running her palms across her face, Miara sighed and nodded. 'You're right,' she said sadly. 'There is no other choice, not one that makes as much sense as this. Do it. I'll look out for Sanshaj, since he's linked to the dead more and incase the killers are going for people who are all connected somehow.'

 

Beria nodded, and shuffled on the spot again. 'I'm sorry,' she said in what she clearly knew was a lame expression of regret. 'I'm sure this isn't easy.'

 

'Too many people are dead,' Miara replied softly, 'for us to avoid things because they aren't easy. You're right, we could die at any time. We need to make sure we're doing the best we can, so that when we go - we leave people with as much as we can.'

 

'Yes,' echoed Beria, getting to her feet. 'Yes, you're right.'

 

Seeing the faeling's faltering faith, Miara shuffled forward in the nest, carefully avoiding the carrion stored within. Placing her hands either side of Beria's face, she assured her, 'What you are doing is for the Glomdoring. It is everything that you should be doing, and you are doing it so very well. Nothing matters but Glomdoring, cousin. Remember that.'

 

A small smile spread weakly across Beria's face, tugging gently at the corners of her lips. 'Glory be to Glomdoring,' she whispered softly, placing her hands over Miara's. 'Thank you.'

 

'Be careful,' urged the Keeper, preparing to swing down out of the nest. 'Stay safe, as safe as you can. Just because we think we're getting to the end, doesn't mean we should be resigned to it.'

 

Beria nodded. 'I will - you too.'

 

Miara leapt out of the trees and landed on the forest floor below, her armour chiming as the metal plates on her torso lifted up slightly and crashed back down on the mail underneath. Glancing over towards the stage and the Harbingers' guildhall therein, she pondered for a moment where Sanshaj was likely to be sleeping. Too many people had been killed there for it to be where he was sleeping; far more likely he would be bunking down in the Oakvine family manse with Wuttif (and, now that she had renounced the Llaewells, Haloia too).

 

Walking quickly towards the portals, she began to pluck the items she needed from the rift to build the traps. Taking a rope commodity, Miara sliced at it with a small knife and picked apart the threads to break it down into smaller pieces that could be strung together in order to create traps that would be triggered when disturbed. Hefting her silver shovel out of her pack, she also collected a reasonable amount of loose soil and old leaves with which she could prepare the ground to catch the best footprints possible.

 

Somehow, the motions involved in preparing the traps were comforting to her. It might not have been much at all, but it felt like something; like some sort of progress, and Miara was certain that if she were unable to do anything at all like the others who were still loyal to the Wyrd that she would have gone mad some time ago. To sit and watch everything you cared about and believed in be torn apart from within - unable to do anything of use. It wasn't a fate she wished on anyone.

 

Folding the last of her commodities away, she gave one last cursory glance over the traps before twitching her nose slightly, sniffing out to find who was nearby. A small smile tugged at her lips and she turned to face the exit.

 

/Coming to bed?/ she asked Llain, having caught a whiff of her scent coming through the tunnels towards her.

 

The reply was slow and tired, matching with the faeling's not very speedy approach. /Yes. I've - well, I've had enough of waiting. Of not being able to do anything./

 

Llain rounded the corner a few moments later, her wings folded at her side as she strode into the portals. Miara opened her arms to her wife as she entered and wrapped them around the smaller woman, whose head tucked neatly underneath her chin.

 

'We will beat this,' Miara urged softly, running her hands over Llain's back comfortingly. 'We've endured worse.'

 

'Have we?' asked Llain bitterly, tugging away and averting her face from Miara's concerned gaze. 'There's no precedent for this. People dying eternal deaths, no chance of resurrection, and all the guilt on those within our own borders?'

 

Miara had no answer to that save to draw her wife back into her, ignoring the faeling's protests. 'We have to believe that we will endure,' she said. 'Else we condemn ourselves to the weakness of refusing to believe in our own strength. We have to say that we can, or we let them win.'

 

With a heavy sigh, Llain sagged against her and laced her arms back around Miara's neck, holding on tightly. 'I'm sorry,' she said softly.

 

'Everyone's thought it,' said Miara in a tone that dismissed her apology as unnecessary. 'We just have to be careful to un-think it.'

 

A small, empty laugh spilt forward from Llain's lips. 'Let's go to bed,' she said, some of her tiredness ebbing away as she laughed, even half-heartedly. 'It's late, and we've fates to be sealed.'