Page 51 of Fallen: Darkness Ascending, Vol.1

She bit her lip, regretting her dodginess. “I am sorry. Of course. Um… Elven reverie is how we all sleep to rest our bodies, of course, but it is also where visions come to those awakened to them.”

He looked worried. “Visions? Like a Seer?”

“Of past, present, or future. Time is one in dreams.” She licked her lips, seeking the horizon through the rocky hills. “Usually, this gift arises in childhood. These dreams can intersect with the dreams of others,” she continued. “You could meet other dreaming souls, and it is a true meeting.”

“A true meeting?”

“Yes. If you can see a face, then you are both there. You could touch, even if your bodies are far away. Learn about each other, discover secrets or witness an important change they are going through.”

Oros looked appropriately frightened.

Uradri smiled sweetly. “So, you probably should not sleep out here, as I stay out of that realm at all costs and cannot help you. Your tribal lands protect you.”

“Very well,” he whispered, waiting for her to crawl out from underneath the rock first.

“Let’s return as golden eagles,” she suggested with a good stretch. “I miss flying.”

Oros gave her a look as if to remind her of their flight yesterday but shrugged and changed his shape for her.

He did not question that time.

Over the next two seasons, Uradri experienced reluctance when traveling, even to the other wilderness tribes. She did not enjoy those moments of self-imposed restrictions. She resented the faceless shadows hovering in Oros’s dreams, worried what they might mean.

He’s getting closer.

Maybe. This depended on how tolerant the Dragons were of an Infernal snooping about their realm. They certainly weren’t tolerant of her .

“Have you ever seen a pair of golden eyes,” she asked Oros as her time grew near. “Of any size, grand or small. Textured like metal, with pupils belonging to a snake.”

Her hunter shook his head. “No.”

Not yet. Good.

“Should I be looking for him?”

She jumped. “Huh?”

“The Desert Dragon.” Oros laced his fingers, elbows on his knees. “Our tales say he has eyes like gold coins.”

“No!” she blurted then lowered her voice. “No. He is a danger, one to avoid.”

“That’s not what the stories say.”

“What ‘stories’?”

His back stiffened. “Our elders going back to the Davrin, before the Nalari Druids arrived.”

“What do they say?”

“The Desert Dragon is a guide for the lost, and he guards the dunes. I’ve heard my whole life he’s not one to fear if we should see or encounter him.”

At first, Uradri couldn’t speak. Then she laughed aloud, tinged with bitterness. “Is that what they’re saying in these times? Hmph! I know a much different version.”

Oros’s hands squeezed together. “What version is that?”

“Older. More brutal.” Ill feelings crept through her, the burden in her womb heavier than it had ever been.

“Once in a while, the Dragons sacrifice a female of their choosing for the sake of their race. They are known for stealing children from the younger races and are especially fond of Elves for how long we live.”

The young hunter’s face tightened. “I’ve never heard that. Known by who?”

“ Me , personally,” she said, quivering as white-hot fury threatened to escape her heart and illuminate her hiding place throughout the Ley. “My cousin was one such sacrifice. I have never forgotten.”

“Your cousin?”

“She’s gone. Has been for a long time.”

Oros looked disturbed. “The Desert Dragon sacrificed your cousin?”

“No, but he was there!” Uradri grappled with her wings, breathing deeply to prevent them from emerging, trying to slow her heart as the memories assailed her, disordered and circling like a mass of black birds.

“ That Dragon died, thankfully. The Desert Dragon’s son took over.

I would not trust the father of such a cruel beast, not ever. ”

The young Wilder was trembling. “He ‘took over’? Took over what?”

The ocean. The island. The birthplace of my children. He captured me, banished the Trinity… Took me away to leave them alone with Indrath!!

“Penni?”

“ A-argh …” She clutched her head and wept from the loss. Oros embraced her, pulling her against his warmth, saying nothing. He’d never seen her cry.

“H-How did the Davrin reach the Red Desert?” she whispered. “What do the s-stories say, Oros?”

The hunter considered. “I…I don’t know. It was too long ago. Before there was a Valsharess or V’Gedra.”

Uradri sneered. Another Queendom. As if we needed another? No doubt their choice was taken by Indrath’s machinations…

Yeinri appeared in their periphery, morphing from a desert fox and running toward them waving her hands .

“Armed caravan!” she shouted. “Bearing the banner of V’Gedra!”

Oros launched to his feet. “What?”

The youth beckoned them. “Come on, we’re putting on clothes to meet them outside the canyon!”

Uradri’s shoulders sagged. Put on clothes?

“Damn,” Oros muttered.

They took the form of two sandy wolves following Yeinri’s fox, though even as a beast, Uradri was visibly pregnant. Compared to the swift female leading the way, she was slowing down.

When they arrived at the bustle near storage, two Wilder were pulling extra clothes for those who didn’t keep a set that fit them. The random jerking and tugging of unfamiliar shirts and trousers commenced as hunt-buddies tried to help each other.

“Hurry,” Oros said, offering Uradri a long, loose gown of pale-yellow weave. “This should work, not too tight.”

Kaju began, “It’s not necessary to send those heavy with child.”

“I am going with you!” Uradri insisted, snatching the gown and trying to remember how to put it on. “I must see these Davrin.”

“These aren’t regular Davrin, these are from the capital,” he argued, “and anyone will remember you. You look like a Naulor, and our elders asked us not to draw attention.”

She tugged soft fabric over her head, struggling with the sleeves. “I will darken my skin and hair. I must be there. All will be well.”

By the time she was covered from shoulders to calves with a bright red sash and barely fitting sandals, the Sovereign had also shifted her appearance to blend in with her tribe, granting herself smooth, tan-brown skin and hair not quite as dark as Oros.

She wished she could shift the swollen belly away, but she had reached the point when the magic resisted that change .

She’s grown into her own aura, no longer part of mine... It won’t be long now.

“Are you not dressing, Oros?” Cessir asked.

He shook his head. “I will carry Penni as a horse. I don’t need to talk to the newcomers, but I can watch. If she needs to flee, we can.”

Kaju and his sister glanced at each other. “A good idea. Those who can take the form, carry one who cannot.”

The panicked dressing paused while the Wilder volunteered or negotiated who still needed clothes. Both guiding siblings would ride a shifter to present themselves as equals, as they preferred. Another fifty Wilder were prepared to head out, now counting twenty-five as half of them became mounts.

The group grabbed waterskins and galloped out from their hidden home, circling to approach the caravan from a different direction. Uradri kept pace despite her condition, though the constriction and itchiness of the dress drove her to distraction.

A dark scout spotted them from a long way out, spurring activity. The large rolling carts and wagons came to a stop while armed guards concentrated on one side.

“Slow!” Uradri called. “Kaju, slow down!”

“Huh?”

“Stop!” She urged Oros alongside the guiding brother. “At least out of range of arrows! Let them come to us and show their intent.”

Persuaded, he gave the signal, slowing their small herd and leaving a large gap of sand and red rock between them and the caravan. Lines of armed horsemen began to form.

Yeinri muttered, “The firebird standard.”

“Hm?” Uradri looked at her, Oros with his head high and ears pricked forward.

“The firebird,” she pointed. “Yellow and orange flames, shaped like a bird, on a red field.”

“I see it. So?”

The youth’s face pinched. “That is the banner of the Zauyrian Godblood. The Sorcerer-General of V’Gedra and Consort to the Valsharess.”

The man who had received his fondest wish from her, Uradri was certain. Was this a good sign or a bad one?

Is he here? Or is someone carrying messages?

A group of five left the caravan to approach, either an effort to seem less threatening or a supreme show of confidence. As they got closer, multiple Wilder spotted the surprise at once.

“It’s one of the Queen’s half-bloods,” Yeinri whispered.

Uradri blinked, fingers fixed on Oros’s mane. She was about to meet a living result of granting her boon.

That he exists against all odds is truly wonderous.

Yet she felt wary, too, sensing the Wilders’ unease and unable to read the two Humans and two Davrin who were flanking him.

The Dark Elf hybrid raised one finely gloved hand in greeting, covered by a courtly uniform of red and gold with blue trim, his head by a helm hiding the tips of his ears.

The dark skin of his face bore a subtle, earthy warmth that his Davrin bodyguards did not, alongside the bulkier form from his sire.

He doesn’t move like an Elf.

Though his aura suggested he was.

“I am Matalai, Second Son to the Queen,” he said in the Davrin language, his voice accustomed to addressing a crowd. “I have a message for the leaders of the Eight Druid Tribes.”

Kaju and Cessir looked at each other and moved forward. Uradri nudged her heels into Oro’s sides, urging him to follow.

“We will hear it!” projected the sister with a heavy accent.

“Good. Come closer. We only want to speak. No action or magic unless you break peace first.”

Uradri grunted in satisfaction. “He does not lie.”

Kaju glanced back. “How can you tell?”

“I can read mortal auras when they knowingly lie.”

“Mortal?”

Oh, dung .

Oros turned his ears back to listen but seemed less surprised.

“Sorry.” She shifted. “I do not know how old I am. I forget time. I call those still aware of time as ‘mortal.’”