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it.”
     
    The soft touch of Malius’ gloved hand brushed against his face. “But only nearly, my love. It’s no matter, now. There is still work left for you to do.”
     
    Al-Aaron closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I can. My fever, the Dragon’s Sleep, already it claims me.”
     
    Malius’ hand came to rest upon his wound. The chill of the poison drifted away.
     
    “You need only bring him to the Hallas gate,” he said. “I will carry you until then.”
     

Chapter Five
     
    Flesh and Bone
     
    Chaelus reined Idyliss in.
     
    The shadow of the Karagas Mun, the boundary of Gorondia, the land of the Dragon, stretched across the horizon. The fortification known as the Line, once watched over by the Servian Order, stretched unseen and forgotten along its length.
     
    Beneath the dark border of the distant mountains, a chalk white cliff reached out like a long bone finger. Tall stands of pine crowned the summit of the cliff and gathered again along its base.
     
    The sky was clear in the way that only comes after a storm. 
     
    Chaelus shifted uneasily at the sight of the ancient borders, both near and far. Together they had controlled his past, now it seemed they would control his future as well. 
     
    Aaron sat behind him in weighted silence. 
     
    “The edge of Sanseveria,” Chaelus observed.
     
    Al-Aaron shifted. “The Garden of Rua lies at its heart. It’s where the members of my Order await us. There we’ll find our protection, and our rest.”
     
    “The Garden of Rua. My father never spoke of it,”
     
    “It’s a sacred place, a secret place.”
     
    The ground fell to where the trees gathered at the base of the pallid cliff. A heavy mist clung about them. A thicker silence weighted the air. 
     
    With no other guidance from the boy, Chaelus led them forward.
     
    Conifer trees stood dark and defiant above the tall grasses. Ancient oaks grew between them. The false promise of sunlight whispered through their leafless branches above. 
     
    Idyliss dug at the ground, her eyes wide, not unlike the night before. Chaelus stroked her neck and dismounted. “Something’s already here.”
     
    Al-Aaron slumped down, his sword bundle in hand. “The Dragon is waiting. Let Idyliss go. She can’t go where we go.”
     
    Before he knew he had, Chaelus released the reins from his hand. 
     
    To slay the Dragon and win a kingdom back.
     
    Idyliss leaned into him, the strength and warmth and memories of her muzzle against his face. She would go on if he asked her to. Had she not so far? Within Idyliss’ dark eyes similar memories dwelled, but they were different as well. Idyliss saw only honor and duty. Yet it was he who’d been summoned. He wouldn’t ask the same of her.  
     
    Al-Aaron pulled the cover from his sword, letting it drop into the tall grasses. His balance wavered.
     
    Chaelus laid his hand on Idyliss’ flank. She galloped south towards her duty, towards home.
     
    “She’ll be safe,” Al-Aaron said. 
     
    Chaelus, concerned, drew up next to him. The pallor of Al-Aaron’s eyes had spread across his cheek and brow. 
     
    “I know,” Chaelus said. “She’ll find her way back, back to the white tower. I worry more for you.”
     
    Al-Aaron dismissed him. “I’ll find my rest in the Garden.”
     
    Chaelus caught him as he stumbled.
     
    Al-Aaron’s stare was unfocused.
     
    Chaelus held onto him as they walked.
     
    The grasses gave way to the tangled growth of underbrush beneath the trees. Mist gathered in the low swells of the ground. Its touch felt like ice as they passed. 
     
    Thin traces of blue flame flickered along Al-Aaron’s gossamer blade. Against its glow, the shadows of the wood took on the visage of Remnants from the night before.
     
    Chaelus kept his hand near Sundengal’s hilt.
     
    The muted rush of broken water echoed through the trees, appearing in brief glimpses between them. Shallow and wide, the river broke over stones thrust up against its wake.