Jaimathan felt Dragon fall. They had been shooting him with horrid arrows and covering him in cruel necromantic magic, but it took hours for him to finally take a fatal blow. It was a coordinated attack from the powerful necromancers still on the ships. The magic had consumed him like fire, but he had fought until the very end.

Not even the magic keeping the ships from being damaged by fire or weapon could hold them afloat against the sheer weight of a dragon falling upon them. Dragon landed squarely across the hull of the lead ship and took it to the bottom of the river with him.

And Jaimathan turned away from the other souls he had been guiding and latched onto Dragon's, pulling with all his mental and magical might to get his soul from the grips of the necromancers. He could feel himself growing weaker the harder he fought. He would need to stop trying to save as many as he could soon.

A silver light surrounded him and some other powerful force began helping him to pull Dragon's soul into the Spirit Realm. The moment Dragon was safe to rest in peace, he turned back to the others in the Mist, but a silver light stopped him.

"Rest, child," a beautiful voice instructed him. "We will finish this. The time has come."

Jaimathan didn't object. The Mist before him was filled with pure white souls being guided by countless silver forms. Distantly, he could see the dark red forms of the necromancers being pushed back by more silver forms, pushed back until they vanished from the Mist.

He opened his eyes to the bright courtyard and was unsurprised to find himself surrounded by fairies. A number of them seemed to be washing his face with damp leaves. He licked his lips, expecting to find them dry after so long without water, and tasted something sweet.

"Thank you," he told them, not caring if they could understand. "I'm just going to rest here a while," he added before he turned to lay on his side in the dirt. Somehow, he trusted the silver figures he'd just seen in the Mist, and he didn't mind sleeping in the garden of the courtyard for a while.

The fairies continued to hover and tend to him as he fell into a deep sleep.

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"He's not dead," Wildas declared.

Shelton shook his head. "You saw that stone fall out of the sky. There's no way he could have survived that."

"Like he could not have survived being possessed last year?" Wildas demanded. The lines of magic were gone for the first time since they had learned about the power shares, leaving his neck oddly pale under the dirt of battle. Were they gone because Wildas had used all his borrowed magic, or had the marks died with Coulta?

"The broken curse sustained him then," Shelton reminded him. "This time he was already exhausted."

"Then why did you make him fight alone?"

Shelton was too tired to let the Grand King's anger affect him. "He wouldn't let me continue. He knew he could do it alone."

"So you let him, and if he dies, it's your fault."

"I already know that. But it was what he wanted. If I had kept fighting I would have died without –"

"Then you should have died!" Wildas yelled, causing a hush to fall around them in the Great Hall where the injured were being tended to. It was where Shelton had found Wildas searching for Coulta after the Asirim warriors from Nairiume had mysteriously arrived and taken over the decimation of the necromancers while at the same time ordering the defenders to rest.

Shelton could see that there was no speaking to Wildas, and part of him knew that Wildas was right; he shouldn't have let Coulta die instead of him. Coulta was young. He had a family to be a part of. It should have been Shelton's time.

Shelton bowed. "As you say, Your Majesty," he said, then turned and left the castle.

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Silence reigned over the Hall even after Shelton left. Some people were staring openly at Wildas, while others were apparently trying to avoid his gaze. Wildas, however, was staring at the door through which Shelton had exited, not speaking but with a look of anger still on his face.

Myri was appalled by what she had heard. Grand King or not, Wildas had let his emotions speak for him and had said one of the cruelest things imaginable to someone who was his greatest supporter, mentor, and parent.

She picked up the hem of her skirt and marched over to where he still stood. He didn't have time to turn his attention to her before she slapped him across the face with her marked hand, causing the sound to echo through the silent Hall.

The look he gave her was of complete disbelief, with some pain mixed in. She snorted and walked away, back to her patients. She looked back just in time to see him leave the Hall.

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Shelton sat in meditation at the base of Ardan's statue, trying to find some peace with what he had done – failed to do. He would always live with the regret of allowing Coulta to sacrifice himself, even if he told himself it was what Coulta had wanted. Would Wildas ever forgive him, either?

He opened his eyes when he heard someone coming down the path and was only slightly surprised to see Wildas.

"May I join you?" Wildas asked.

"You're the Grand King."

Wildas sighed as he sat down. "Shelton, I'm sorry."

Shelton raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

Wildas ran a hand over his face and appeared to flinch. "What I said was horrible, and I'm sorry."

"He didn't want you to be without both of us," Shelton said gently. "What he did was for you, to protect you and Myri and Anil and Kylar and Kyla, and the whole country. He knew I couldn't do it, and he wanted someone to be here for you."

Wildas took a deep breath, but it was shaky. "I just can't believe it until I see him," he whispered. "With the soul-link, I think I should be able to feel it. I would know."

"No one knows if the soul-links work that way," Shelton pointed out carefully.

"I would know," Wildas repeated, his voice hushed.

Shelton didn't push, just nodded. How long would it take the searchers to find his body?

"How did the Nairs know about the attack?" Wildas asked, looking out at the debris in the river. What was left of the ships from Dyrai and their crews was drifting down the river to the sea.

"I don't know," Shelton replied. "We can ask them when we thank them."

They both sat there in silence after that for what felt like quite a while, until Rohan ran down the path toward them.

"Coulta was just brought back to the castle."

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Shelton saw Wildas draw a deep breath and nod, a look of pain crossing his face.

"He's alive."

"What?" both Shelton and Wildas demanded at once.

"A herd of unicorns brought him back, too," Rohan went on.

Wildas was on his feet immediately. "Let's go."

Shelton ran with them back to the Great Hall, the excitement of the moment giving him new strength. When they arrived they found a herd of unicorns outside the castle in all the colors horses existed in. Inside was another unicorn, a great black stallion standing regally in the center of the Great Hall. Once again, the Hall was silent.

Wildas rushed to the cot where Myri was bent over someone who could only be Coulta. His fighting leathers were tattered and covered in blood. Coulta's eyes opened when Wildas knelt beside him, and Shelton could clearly see that Wildas was trying to hold back tears.

The unicorn stepped close to the cot and looked over Myri's shoulder at Coulta. "We have healed your most serious injuries. You will fight again, but how well will still depend upon the skills of your healers. We intervened to save your life, but to heal you completely would be too much."

"Thank you," Coulta told him hoarsely.

"Yes, thank you," Wildas said quietly.

The stallion nodded his head, then turned away from the cot. Much to Shelton's amazement, he stopped in front of him and dipped his head. "He was saved because he defeated the cruel one who had enslaved members of my herd in the past. But we are also grateful to you. You saved those members of the herd last year. You ended their suffering and set them free. For that, we thank you." He lifted his head again, and breathed against Shelton's face.

The change was immediate. Aches and pains that had become so much a part of life that he no longer noticed them were suddenly gone, and other pains he had barely noted after his duel with Kemale vanished. He even felt some of his magic return, as if the replenishing process had been quickened.

"Thank you," Shelton whispered as the unicorn stepped back.

The stallion nodded to him, then turned and left the Hall with his head high. Even from inside, they all heard him call to his herdmates, followed by a thundering of hooves.

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Myri could see that Coulta had several broken bones from the way his limbs were angled as he lay on the cot. What else his injuries included she could only guess.

"Go, Wildas," she commanded. "I will take care of him. You have other things to attend to."

Wildas nodded reluctantly before giving Coulta's forehead a kiss and getting to his feet.

"I'm going to give you something to make you sleep," she said, turning her attention back to Coulta. "I'm not sure I have the strength to fully heal you now, so don't be surprised if you wake up in splints."

"As long as I wake up," Coulta replied weakly.

Myri gave him a faint smile as she went to get a sleeping potion for him. When she returned she held it to his lips and he drank it quickly, hardly complaining until he finished the drink and made a face of disgust. Myri just smiled and sat with him until he was asleep, then she lightly touched his hand to begin her examination.

Her magic flowed into him and she checked his heart first. She was hardly surprised to sense a recent healing there. She could sense that his heart had given out for a brief moment when the unicorns had started the healing. It must have been the final shock that his body could endure, until they healed that as well.

Several of his ribs showed recent healing and only one was still fractured. His lungs had also been recently repaired, having been punctured by the broken ribs.

She had been afraid of the tears in his armor and the blood soaked into the leather on his abdomen. The leather was burned, the thin chainmail melted, and she had seen the marks of recent healing on his skin. Inside she could see that her fears had not been unfounded. There was a significant amount of recently healed tissue and she could sense the power that had burned away all contamination from his previously torn bowels.

Moving her sense upward again she found three separate places where his spine had been broken and healed, including at his neck. Then she looked at his brain and found places where bleeding and swelling had been healed. His skull had also been thoroughly repaired in two places where it had fractured.

One last thing came to mind and she looked for any sign of a life-giving force, and found none still. He would be relieved to know that.

The sheer amount of damage that had been done to his body was overwhelming for her. As a healer, even with the power he had shared with her, she never would have been able to save him. There had been other times when they had come close to losing him, but never this close.

She came back to herself only to realize there were tears streaming down her face. She quickly wiped them away and went to get material for splints. She would use what magic she could spare to help the healing along, but he'd need to mend mostly on his own.

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Outside, Wildas joined Shelton again and watched as several hundred Nairs approached from the gate of the castle yard. They wore silver mail and swords at their hips, though they appeared strangely unbloodied. Their skin was darker than that of most people in Phelin and their hands, faces, and necks were adorned with black marks. The number of marks and their locations seemed to vary by person and Wildas wondered what they meant. Were they marks of magic or symbols they placed on their own bodies themselves? Whatever the case, it wasn't his place to ask.

All appeared to have hair long enough to braid, which was how they all wore it. Some braids seemed to be accented with beads. The only details to tell men from women were the beards on the men, and the colors of their eyes. The women all had silver eyes while the men had various colors among them. There appeared to be twice as many women as men.

"Your land has been cleansed of the evil magic," the leader announced. She wore no weapon and no mark of rank that Wildas could understand, but she was their leader without question.

Wildas bowed his head. "Thank you. I'm not certain how we can honor this debt to you."

She smiled. "Simply allowing us to remain here for three days would be payment enough. I would like to speak to another honored guest of yours. I believe he is a king from Algoma, though not formally crowned."

Wildas nodded. "Of course."

"Forgive me, but how did you know to come to our aid?" Shelton asked.

"One of our ships saw their navy departing. We assembled to follow them. We had heard of what happened in Algoma, and we agreed we wouldn't let the necromancers grab for power again in such a way. We despise those foul creatures."

"We are sincerely grateful," Wildas assured her. "You are welcome here, as guests of the crown. Our hospitality may be lacking somewhat at the moment as we have much to take care of now, but I assure you we will meet any need you may have."

She dipped her head. "I thank you, but I believe we would be best accommodated by assisting you and your people in the task at hand. There is more residual magic to dispel outside the city as well as inside the castle."

Wildas couldn't say he was surprised by that. "Your help is greatly appreciated. Let's begin."

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A servant brought word when the battle ended. She already had bloodstains on her grey uniform, and her voice was urgent when she said, "The battle has ended. The healers need anyone willing to help."

Anil handed Kylar carefully over to one of her nurses. "Please stay here. I'll make certain you all get news."

The nurse nodded. "Of course."

Several others left with Anil, servants and the wives and sisters of the court. The guards remained with the others.

As she walked quickly to the Great Hall where she knew the healers were working, all Anil could think about were Wildas and Coulta. Memories of the battle with Varin pressed against her thoughts. They had lost a Grand King then. Please gods, don't let them have lost another one now.

The Hall was filled with people. Wounded soldiers lay on cots and blankets on the floor. Most were bleeding, many were moaning in agony, and others were perfectly silent. Healers bustled about, deciding who needed what treatment first. Assistants and other helpers answered calls for bandages, water, blankets, and salves. The dead were moved aside to make room for the ones who could be helped. Soldiers carried in their comrades with urgency but laid them down with care. The ground was beginning to look slick with blood and filth.

Near the door a group of soldiers stood silently staring at the room around them. Nearby a smaller group stood, wearing the brown uniforms given to the guild members. One of them dropped to the floor, visibly weeping. Two of the others tried to give comfort, but it didn't seem to help. Anil's heart went out to them. Unlike the soldiers, the guild members had never been trained for war. They had only taken their places on the walls to defend their homes and livelihoods. None of them should have needed to give their lives.

Her eyes landed on Myri, who was washing the blood from someone's face. Anil knew it was Coulta from the marks on his shoulders, the only part of him she could see until Myri lifted the cloth from his face. His leather armor was in a tattered pile at the foot of his cot, and his arms were bound in splints from wrist to armpit.

Myri looked up at her when she approached. "He'll recover," she assured her quietly. "He's very lucky I can say that, but he will recover."

Anil knelt and caressed his cheek. "Wildas?"

"Uninjured the last time I saw him," Myri answered. "He's with Shelton now, dealing with the aftermath. Shelton will keep him uninjured."

Anil kissed Coulta's forehead, then stood and turned back to Myri. "What can I do?"

Myri looked around the room. "There are so many here who need peace. Can your magic do that?"

Anil nodded. "Of course."

She spent the rest of the afternoon and evening moving throughout the Hall, comforting those who had lost friends, family, and lovers that day, and soothing anguish of those waiting to be healed. By the end of the evening she had only a small amount of Coulta's magic left. At least he would live to give her more one day. She realized the thought was petty, but the knowledge that he would recover filled her with so much joy that such little things were to be appreciated as well.