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Beyond it, the chalk pale of the cliff stood above them, just beyond the band of woods at its base. The broken and rust colored ground climbed up to meet it like flesh on sullen bone.
     
    Al-Aaron slumped down beside the river’s edge.
     
    Chaelus eyed him, and then the face of the cliff, its top obscured by the haze rising from the river’s opposite bank. The silence of shadow and mist gave its reply.
     
    “We shouldn’t linger,” Chaelus said.
     
    “Come closer,” Al-Aaron replied.
     
    The markings on Chaelus’ brow grew warm. “The mist gathers.”
     
    “Our speed won’t carry us from it.”
     
    Al-Aaron turned slightly from the water, cupping his hands before him, water dripping from between his fingers. A gesture from his eyes motioned Chaelus down to him.
     
    Chaelus knelt. The sunlight dimmed in the mist, but he could see what Al-Aaron held. The water shimmered in his hands, as thin shadows cascaded within it. The air near the water grew chill.
     
    Al-Aaron looked into him, his voice a whisper. “The seed of the Dragon. It’s in the water, it’s in the air, it’s waiting inside all of us.”
     
    Chaelus stood, stepping back as Al-Aaron released the water from his hands.
     
    Al-Aaron stared at him, a blank expression for the moment upon his face. “It is time.”
     
    A black wall of overlapping shields stood within the mist of the opposing bank.  Magus drifted behind them, a silent shadow. He carried the same standard as the night before, though this time careless across his shoulder as he edged his mount behind the line.
     
    Al-Aaron hefted his sword and staggered into the shallow rushing water, his face still pale. The river muted his voice.
     
    “Don’t challenge them, Chaelus. This is what it seeks. The Dragon only wields what power you give it. Have faith in my protection.”
     
    Magus reined his steed in a cascade of stone at the base of the broken slope.
     
    “My shadow grows within you, child.”
     
    Al-Aaron lowered his sword to his side, its aura settling upon the surface of the water. “Still, you can’t stop us.”
     
    Chaelus drew Sundengal. The ring of it cut through mist and shadow alike. The time had come. And this time he would have it. “Nor will you stand after we’ve passed.”
     
    The Remnant Legionnaires stepped forward, splashing into the river to meet him. From behind their shields rasped the teeth of their blades, beckoning a shadow all of their own.
     
    Their lorica glistened, but not from the water. Shifting darkness covered them. The stench of decay clung about them like oil. The soulless shadow of the Dragon’s eyes burned within each of them, a cold fire beyond their chainmail veils.
     
    The Remnants stopped just before they passed into the azure light of Aaron’s blade.
     
    Chaelus kept moving towards the silver face of Magus beyond them. With a war cry he threw the weight of Sundengal’s steel against the waiting shield wall that stood between them. The river fought against him, but he slammed into his opponents, jarring shield and limb, forcing the one to the right of him backwards. Sundengal’s tip found its mark between the blackened plated steel plates of one to the left of him.
     
    Some moments last longer than others.
     
    The legionnaire, or Remnant, or Dragon, stared back at him with the eyes of no man. Beneath its armored veil, beyond the rough gray cloth that wrapped the pallid skin, the portal to its soul was nearly empty to all but the swirling malice of the Dragon within it. But within it there was something else watching him as well, something helpless buried deep beneath its grieving, a nearly silent voice attempting to cry out, until a gurgling snarl silenced it.
     
    Chaelus’ thrust forced Sundengal down, turning it as he did, feeling for the response of the back of the black armor beyond. The Remnant hung rigid upon the blade, its haunting visage passed, a blistering wind cascading around it.
     
    Chaelus yanked