The Aeromancer studied Lillandra. "It's you, isn't it? You're the one who's been disassembling my spells. What is your name?"

"Lillandra," she said, full of quiet fury. With the wind whipping at her hair, and the Assassin's Cloak flowing like a living shadow around her shoulders, she looked like some kind of dark, avenging angel. "The Queen of the Night."

He smirked. "The Queen of the Night? That's quite a sobriquet."

"I ruled the kingdom of Velon for a hundred years," she went on. "None could stand against my magic. I rode dragons; I defeated whole armies. I am the greatest sorceress in the world."

The Aeromancer did not look particularly impressed. "You have talent," he said. "I can see it. But if you think you're a match for me--"

"I'm more than a match for you. Your magic is sterile. Your calculations are dull and uninspired. You possess a great deal of raw power, I'll grant you that, but there's nothing subtle in your strength. You're not what I was expecting at all." She shook her head. "You're not even half the sorcerer I am."

The Aeromancer stared. "Well! It's not very often I find myself at a loss for words. What did you say your name was? Lillandra? How interesting."

Arai, still dazed from the fall, slowly climbed to his feet. What was Lillandra thinking? She was a powerful sorceress, there was no doubt about that, but her power lay in her ability to create zemi; she couldn't hope to battle Mustaf Draj, the Aeromancer, on his own terms.

But he was so relieved to see Lillandra alive and unharmed that, for a moment, he forgot about the Aeromancer, the dragon, and everything going on around them, and sighed with relief. But where was Shell? And what was Lillandra doing, challenging the Aeromancer like this?

She threw a glance his way. "Valtun," she shouted.

Valtun? That was the name of the sorcerer-warden they had fought back at Dolorous Castle. What did she mean by calling out his name?

But then, suddenly, he understood. Lillandra had battled Valtun by dissolving his spells, allowing Arai and Sir Estil to get close enough to attack him. If she could do the same thing to the Aeromancer...

He nodded back at her. Retrieving Silus, he began edging towards the sorcerer, who was still hanging in the air, about ten or fifteen feet above their heads.

The Aeromancer responded by crafting another illusion, this time of a gigantic, snarling ape-man, tearing through the rubble, heading right for Arai. But the illusion only lasted a few seconds before dissipating. Draj looked up sharply.

"Very good," he told Lillandra, a bit of wariness finally beginning to enter his voice. "But how long can you keep it up?"

More illusions appeared. In a moment they were surrounded by monsters, soldiers, and all manner of horrors. Arai couldn't help but be distracted by these, but Lillandra ignored them completely, utterly focused on what she was doing. One by one, the illusions flickered out, and when the sorcerer tried to incinerate them with his lightning, Lillandra dissolved these spells as well, breaking up the clouds over their heads. Sunlight began to pierce the clouds -- a hundred rays breaking through the dark, illuminating the battlefield, as though it had been lit up by the glory of the gods. The Aeromancer, still suspended in the air, scowled down at Lillandra, his face now full of concentration as well. She was obviously putting up a fight.

Arai, meanwhile, continued to banish the illusions with Silus, while trying to get closer to the Aeromancer. He briefly considered throwing his sword at the man -- the blade would surely cut through any spells he might cast to protect himself -- but he wasn't confident in his throwing ability, and anyway, the Radiant Blade was the only thing protecting him from the Aeromancer's fire and lightning; he didn't want to let it go, even for a moment.

Lillandra seemed to be breaking down the Aeromancer's spells even faster than he could cast them now; the sorcerer's illusions were becoming less realistic, more like shadows of things than things themselves. Monsters appeared for a moment, flickered, and vanished, while above, his storms gradually diminished in strength. He could no longer summon his lightning.

And on it went. Lillandra, standing atop the ruins of the Long Wall, looked like she was conducting an orchestra -- clawing, ripping, tearing apart the Aeromancer's spells with her bare hands. Arai had never seen her like this before; in that moment, she radiated strength and power. This, at last, was the legendary figure he had heard so much about growing up -- Lillandra, the Shadow of Velon, the Queen of the Night.

The Aeromancer was growing increasingly alarmed; Arai could see it in his face. His storms, his illusions, and whatever other spells he may have had at his disposal were breaking down, and it was plain he had never experienced anything like this before -- a mage who was as strong, if not stronger, than himself.

And then, suddenly, he dropped several feet. He managed to catch himself, and stay in the air, but Arai understood what was happening: Lillandra had unraveled all his other spells; now she was unraveling the levitation spell keeping him aloft. It was the same scenario they had faced in the prison, with Valtun, and it was just the opportunity Arai needed. He raced forward.

The sorcerer landed on the shattered rubble of the Long Wall. Before Arai could reach him, however, he pointed a finger at the ground, and the earth itself began shaking violently, enough to make Arai stumble. The shaking quickly subsided, but then he cast another spell, transforming the broken bricks Arai had been standing on into a gooey, gelatinous substance, something like quicksand. Roaring with frustration, Arai sank into this slag, all the way up to his knees, and was unable to free himself from it. Damn it! He had been so close.

Meanwhile the battle taking place all over the Long Wall continued: sorcerers, Skirrish soldiers, and Gallean knights were fighting all around them now. Wizard's whiskers whistled past Arai's ears; arrows clattered against the broken wall; men shouted; horses screamed.

And now Sir Estil and the dragon returned. The knight was still clinging to the dragon's back, and the dragon was still shrieking -- one of its wings had been damaged, and it was flying awkwardly, flapping harder with one wing than with the other. Finally, Sir Estil -- just barely hanging on -- managed to plunge his sword all the way through the beast's neck. Dragons, like all monsters, were notoriously durable, and it must have taken a tremendous amount of strength to pierce the dragon's scales; Arai found himself marveling, once again, at Sir Estil's power and prowess. What must he have been like when he was young?

With its head practically separated from its neck, the dragon began to disintegrate. It continued to glide for a few more moments, then began spiraling down to the ground, gradually breaking apart. Fortunately enough of it remained for Sir Estil to ride it down; it flapped its wings one last time, giving it just enough lift to allow the knight to land more or less safely. He landed on the rubble of the Long Wall, about fifty yards from Arai, but stumbled almost immediately and fell to one knee -- wounded, perhaps, or exhausted from the fight. Pieces of glittering maginite rained down upon him.

And all the while, Lillandra and the Aeromancer continued their duel. Arai finally managed to heave himself out of the pool of gooey slop the sorcerer had created beneath his feet, but the Aeromancer had moved further away from him -- he seemed to have given up trying to cast any more spells; the storms and illusions surrounding him had vanished. But he had drawn a dagger, and he was making his way over to Lillandra.

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Arai grit his teeth. Lillandra could dissolve the man's spells, one after the other, but she could not physically fight him off. She was in danger.

Pulling himself together -- he was weary from the fall, the fighting, and all the rest of it -- Arai surged to his feet and ran to them. The Aeromancer threw him a quick backwards glance, then waved a hand at him, flinging fire, but Arai, holding Silus before him, ran right through it. "Lill!" he shouted.

Lillandra was backing away from the Aeromancer, but the rubble behind her was too high for her to navigate, and left her with nowhere to go. She was trapped, and Arai was too far away -- the Aeromancer was sure to reach her before he did.

He couldn't let her die. He couldn't let it end like this. "Lillandra!" he shouted again, desperate.

The Aeromancer, his beautiful face twisted with fury, raised his dagger...

...And then, suddenly, he stopped, clutching his throat, and crumpled to the ground before Lillandra. He fell so fast, and so unexpectedly, that at first Arai wasn't sure what had happened to him -- had Lillandra cast some kind of spell? But then he saw the knife in the man's throat.

"What the...?" Where had that come from?

He looked around...and that's when he saw Shell, half-hidden behind a fallen pillar. The elf girl's eyes were wide. "I got him."

He understood then -- Shell had thrown her Witch's Dagger at the sorcerer. This was one of the zemi they had discovered in Nharlek's castle, an enchanted dagger which always returned to the user's hand; Shell had been practicing with it for months.

The dagger wriggled itself free of the Aeromancer's throat and returned to her, zipping through the air like a little swallow. She caught it, wiped it clean, and sheathed it. "Is...is he dead?" she asked.

He was dead, or dying, anyway. The blade had caught him clean in the throat, cutting off his air, and he was clawing at his neck, struggling to breathe, all the while blood poured out of the wound. A few moments later he stopped struggling, however, and his eyes glazed over, and he died.

It was a ghastly way to go, but if half the things Arai had heard about the man were true, it was no more than what he deserved.

Arai sheathed his sword and touched Lillandra's arm. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, but her eyes were fixed on the Aeromancer's body. Arai glanced down at the dead sorcerer...and was surprised to see that the golden-haired man with the perfect features had disappeared, and been replaced by a dumpy-looking older man, probably in his late sixties, with bulging frog-eyes and wispy white hair. Arai had guessed correctly: the Aeromancer had been hiding his true appearance behind an illusion.

Sir Estil, still unsteady on his feet, stumbled over to the scene. "He's dead?"

"So it would appear." Just to be on the safe side, Arai tapped the sorcerer's body with Silus, to cancel out any residual magic he may have had on his person.

With the Aeromancer dead, the storms which he had summoned weakened further, until all that remained of them were some gusty winds and patchy clouds. Sunlight exploded over the battlefield, and, perhaps sensing that the tide had turned, the Skirrish soldiers and sorcerers began to retreat. Many of those soldiers had been brainwashed and sent to the front against their will; with the Aeromancer dead, Arai mused, some of them might have regained their senses.

Arai turned to Lillandra again, and asked her again, "Are you all right?"

"Yes."

"I was worried," Arai said. "I thought you might have been killed, when they broke through the Wall. I was afraid that..." He trailed off, and decided that words were inadequate to express how he felt. He gave her a hug instead, pulling her close.

Lillandra plainly found this show of affection astonishing, and she seemed not to know how to respond to it. After a moment -- a long moment -- she slowly, tentatively placed her arms around him, hugging him back.

* * *

It didn't take long for the battle to wind down after that. The news of the Aeromancer's death spread quickly -- the fact that his endless storms had finally dissipated was all the proof most people needed. The Skirrish retreat was rather disorganized, however, for the Aeromancer had been the glue holding the Skirrish forces together, and his generals were unsure how to proceed without him. A small contingent tried to take advantage of the huge gap in the Long Wall, but these were quickly driven off by Gallean reinforcements from Tax Noctum, and no further attacks took place. The Skirrish remained in their camps for a few more days, then gradually began to disperse.

In the end, it was Sir Estil who got the credit for killing Mustaf Draj. Hundreds of Gallean soldiers had seen him battling the dragon and landing in the vicinity of the sorcerer, and Sir Estil, they believed, was the only man who could have possibly defeated him. He was, after all, the greatest knight Galleus had ever produced.

Arai was not bothered by this, nor was Shell. Everyone agreed that Draj had been a monster, but the elf girl had never killed anyone before, and it haunted her.

"He was about to kill Lillandra," Arai pointed out to her.

"I know," she said glumly. "I know it was the right thing to do, but..." She shook her head, her blonde tresses swishing about her face. "I didn't like it."

"I'd be worried if you did like it," he said. "It's not an easy thing to kill somebody, even someone as wicked as Draj, and even in a situation like that."

"You've killed people," Shell noted cautiously.

"I have," he said somberly. "I'm a swordsman, a mercenary. I've been fighting and killing since I was your age."

"How many?"

"How many people have I killed?" He sighed. "I've lost count."

"Does it get any easier?"

"No. I've only ever killed people who were trying to kill me, and I do take some comfort in that, but no, it never gets easier." He patted her head. "I hope you never have to go through anything like that again."

She gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, Arai." And then she surprised him by grabbing his arm and pulling him in for a hug. It wasn't the first time she had hugged him, but it felt good, and it reminded him of the hug he had given Lillandra earlier.

He was thinking about Lillandra a lot these days. In particular, he found his thoughts drifting back to the moment she had confronted the Aeromancer: her hair flying, her eyes flashing. A dark and deadly beauty.

There seemed to be something stirring in his heart, when he thought of these things, but they were strange feelings, and he couldn't quite lay a finger on them.

She may have been feeling something similar herself, for when he went to visit her, on the morning before they set out, she avoided looking him in the eye. "Is everything ready?" she asked, while packing her things. They had moved out of the garrison and had spent most of the last week in a small inn in the city of Prestoris.

"Almost."

"It's been a long time since I've ridden a horse."

"Me, too." Sir Estil had purchased a pair of horses for the group; for the first time since they had arrived in the east, they would be traveling on horseback. They could only take the horses as far as Bloodlorn -- they couldn't ride the poor beasts into the deserts of the Scarred Lands -- but that was still an enormous distance, and Arai was certain it would make for a much easier journey.

"He's still insisting on coming with us?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Well, I don't mind him too much, and he is good in a fight. I still haven't quite figured out how he's making himself stronger and faster, though, with magia. It's very strange. He may have some kind of sorcerous potential, only I can't see what--"

"Lillandra."

She stopped when he said her name, and looked him in the eye for the first time. "Yes?"

"The Aeromancer would have killed me if you hadn't shown up when you did. You saved my life, again."

"So?"

"So I wanted to thank you. And I wanted to tell you..." But he trailed off there, because he suddenly realized he wasn't sure what he wanted to tell her, or what he had been about to tell her. He frowned at himself, at his own mixed-up feelings.

"Tell me what?" she prodded.

"Forget it," he said. "Shell and Sir Estil are waiting outside." He turned to leave, and this time it was Lillandra who stopped him by saying his name.

"Arai?"

"Yes?"

"This may sound strange, coming from me, but..." She wet her lips. "I'm glad I met you."

He grinned. "And it probably sounds just as strange, coming from me," he returned, "but I'm glad I met you, too."

* * *

They met Shell and Sir Estil outside the inn; the knight had just finished saddling the horses. "Are you absolutely sure you want to come with us?" Arai asked Sir Estil, for perhaps the tenth time. The knight's situation had changed drastically -- having personally dispatched the Aeromancer (or so it was believed) and ended the war, the Council of Knights had offered to reinstate him, and both of the Gallean princes, Jae and Jax, were vying for his favor. Sir Estil had turned them all down, however.

"I swore to serve you," he said, bowing, "and serve you I shall, to the best of my ability."

"Things are different now."

"Not so different," he said. "The war with Grand Skir may be over, for now, but the war between Jax's Red Hearts and Jae's Blue Hearts goes on. And our little adventure together has taught me something, reminded me of something." He scratched at his chin, in a thoughtful sort of way. "I've had enough of politics and palace intrigue. I'm an old man. I want to return to a simpler time, a simpler life -- the life of the knight errant. I want to spend my few remaining years living according to the principles of knighthood, as I did when I was a young."

"That's a hard life," Arai warned. "And the older you get, the harder it becomes."

"True," he said, with a grin. "But I have a little fight in me yet." He looked to the horizon. "Now, let's go find some more dragons to slay."