Starlex awoke to a mouthful of sand and a disbelief that she could possibly still be alive.

She clutched her belly searching for the warmth within. She rejoiced when her answer came in the form of a tiny kick.

My child lives!

She did a slow inventory of her body starting with her neck and moving down her spine, one vertebra at a time. Nothing was broken.

Illym heard my prayers!

Slowly she sat up and observed her surroundings. The color of the sky was different from the one she knew, bright blue without a hint of haze. Directly above her, the sun hovered like a gold shield, proud and punishing as a victorious warrior. Her skin was already feeling its burn. Beneath the sky, an endless carpet of wavy white sand extended in all directions.

A sudden fear chilled her, despite the pounding heat.

Could I perhaps be dead, and these are the Heavens Flenn Illymium often spoke of with reverence?

No! Illym's Heavens are a paradise of lush greenery and cool streams, where food grows abundantly on every tree, and the Illymatars twinkle in the night sky offering blessings to the souls residing there. It can't a place more barren than the pink sands of Arki with a sun that siphons the very water from my flesh.

No, I'm alive, and that means Bonn may be too.

Galvanized by the hopeful thought, Starlex stood slowly on wobbly legs. The tan suede boots she wore had survived the zoid better than her tattered silk gown.

Good, she thought. My feet won't burn. But the rest of me certainly will. She had never in her life felt heat like this, not even during the time when the Great Vulcan exploded, releasing Quetzex, the dragon, from its fiery bowels.

I survived the fall, but if I don't reach some shelter soon, I will surely perish. Lifting her hand to shield her pale, violet eyes, she made a slow circle in the sand.

The wavy geometric patterns stretched on and on, making Starlex dizzy if she stared at it for too long.

A gush of despair enveloped her, but she thrust it from her thoughts.

Recalling the lessons Flenn Illymium taught her in the Tower of Oran, she looked to the sun.

Waiting, trying to steady her breath, she watched and waited for the sunlight to slowly shift. Like a sundial, her slim shadow began to elongate. She racked her brain, trying to recall what she had read about the Blue Planet from the ancient, leather-bound tomes in Flenn's library. Were the cardinal directions the same as it was in Ardelym? Does it even matter?

The sun blistered her skin as she watched her shadow slowly lengthen on the white sand. Wishing she could jump into the shade made from her own body, she tore off a piece of what was left of her skirt and draped it over her head, making a small tent to shade her face.

According to Flenn's teachings, the Blue Planet had only one moon. She swept her gaze over the vast panorama. Ever so distant, in the expanse of blue sky, there appeared a milky half-circle in the sky. Her heart rejoiced.

Flenn always reminded her of her special qualities. The very thing Starlex despised most about herself, her over-sensitivity, Flenn insisted was her one true gift. The only problem, the ancient seer had assured her, was she had such little faith in herself that she failed to use her greatest strength.

A tiny vibration stirred in her womb as if her child was sending her a message.

I have had little faith in myself, she thought sadly. But all that changed when I met Bonn Skaard. He saw something in me I could never see in myself. I will use my special gift to save my life and my child's , and if Illym's reign extends to this world, I may be graced with meeting my love again.

Starlex shut her eyes tightly and lifted her face to the gentle desert wind. She breathed deeply through her nostrils. At first, she smelled only the dry air, the intense heat, and nothing more. She tried again, and this time, she smelled something that fired up her entire being: water, so cool she could taste it!

But is it real or only my imagination?

She remembered when she was only a small child during the siege of Mynimium how the Nazeers breached the citadel gate to claim the ancient city as their own. To refuse capture, many Mynimium citizens climbed the walls and fled to the Arki desert. Starlex recalled watching from the window of the palace tower the fleeing men and women, some dragging their children behind them, slowly diminish to black dots on the pink sands.

"Those fools think a shining new city awaits them when all they're running towards is their own death!" quipped a teenage Hyperia to Starlex. "We will not flee our home city. We are Illymiums, modeled after Illym himself, and even though we may be now looked upon with scorn, we know who we are."

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Although she was just a child, Starlex will never forget the way Hyperia squared her shoulders and announced, "If I have to marry that hideous fiend, Nargos Nazeer, I will. If he won't have me for his wife, I will be his whore."

"But, sister," Starlex cried, gazing up at her sister's pale oval face framed by jet-black hair.

"I will survive." Hyperia's eyes glimmered like cut amethyst gems. "And so will you, Starlex Illymium."

Starlex trudged through the sand. How right you were, dear sister. Even though you were the one who tried to take my life, I have survived.

With her shadow leading the way, Starlex traveled across the dunes. It was all her legs could so to overcome the inertia of the burning sand, but still, she moved, and with each step, the scent of water grew stronger.

A shadow passed across the sand, cooling her for an instant. She looked up with sudden hope.

Could the purple-plumed Lila Bird have followed her all this way?

The bird's caw sent a tingle of dread down her spine. It wasn't Raki, but a buzzard, tracking her across the sand, awaiting her death.

Terror spurring her on, she moved at a faster clip, until at last she spotted the oasis. Following its sweet perfume, her dry lips muttering prayers of thanks, she ran for the tall palms surrounding a cool green pond.

Her heart pounded with hope, but also fear that like her Illymium brethren fleeing their home city, she ran toward an illusion that would only fade before her eyes the closer she came to it.

* * *

It took a week of wheedling and nightly teeth-gritting lovemaking sessions, for Hyperia to finally convince Nargos that his time would be better spent leading the Oran troops preparing an attack on Mynimium than lounging around the palace drinking wine.

Nargos had insisted that laying claim on her former city was an easy operation now that Scipio was dead. They had the entire Oran army at their disposal, Nargos had reminded his new bride. It would take a day at the most to breach those pink-brick walls.

"As I recall," Nargos had said, "You, my queen, were the one waiting to give the final word for my army to proceed."

Nargos was correct. Her hesitation was because of Tylla. What would she do about a treasonous daughter who had not only betrayed her, but had stolen Corellas, her supposed son?

All of Ardelym would be expecting her to execute a swift sentence. In her many fits of rage, she had sworn to hang all of the traitors from the tower, but in her heart, she knew she could not kill her only child. Yet if she showed the people weakness...

"Please, my love," she had begged her husband. "Go to the front, lead your troops like the great man you are, capture my home city, and bring back the traitors as prisoners."

"But the price for treason is death, my lady," Nargos reminded her with a wine-smeared smirk.

"Didn't Scipio Davadas spare your life when you laid siege on Mynimium? Win back my city for your queen, but do it with care. If you bring back Tylla alive, you will be crowned King."

The following day, Nargos, clanging atop his horse in full armor, rode off along with three of his henchmen and ten palace guards. Like a doting wife, Hyperia waited by the Oran gates, waving a silk handkerchief in the cool morning air, until Nargos has his men disappeared on the misted hills of Pendulum Road.

Her shoulders sagged as soon as she returned to the palace. She was exhausted from dealing with Nargos' moods and demands, and she would like nothing better than to spend the next two days in bed. But there was work to do.

Her slippered feet made quick light steps across the pink marble floor. Two servant women, red hair slipping from the edges of their white linen caps, giggled when Hyperia passed.

The queen stopped in her tracks and turned on the women. They were new hires from Nazeera.

"What are your names?" Hyperia demanded.

The blush drained from both women's cheeks. The older, and seemingly bolder one, stepped forward with head bowed. "I'm Ranee Nazeer, milady, and this here's my sister, Demma Nazeer."

"We don't use the Nazeer name in this palace," Hyperia said, with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, milady." Demma took fistfuls of her homespun skirt in each hand and performed a quick curtsy.

Hyperia slid her cool violet gaze from one woman to the next. "Is it not your duty to clean this floor in the palace?"

"Yes, milady," replied Ranee, a touch of Nazeer superiority easing its way into her attitude. "We were just about to start."

"And what did you find so amusing that you burst into laughter when I passed?"

"Nothing, milady," said Demma.

"It was just a silly joke," said Ranee. Her green eyes gazed up at the queen with a sparkle of defiance.

"A silly joke?" pressed the Queen. "Well, here's another joke I hope you will both find amusing."

Hyperia watched with satisfaction the lump rise in Demma's throat. "The privies in the servant quarters need to be drained and sanitized," she said.

Ranee neck stretched as she boldly met the queen's gaze, "But we're palace workers, milady. We don't work in the servants' quarters."

Hyperia cocked an arched eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"We don't clean privies," snapped Ranee.

Demma's eyes drifted to the floor.

"Who says you don't?" the queen volleyed back, taking pleasure in the game.

"Why Verndalsa says so, that's who," rejoined Ranee, the courage in her eyes wavering.

"Ah, Verndalsa," said the queen knowingly.

Verndalsa Nazeer was a bent and aged crone who had put the first set of diapers on Nargos and had been doing the same for him, in one way or another, ever since. She had taken on the role of palace majordomo since before the royal wedding. Hyperia was already tired of her superior attitude.

"I will explain the change to Verndalsa myself," cooed Hyperia. She waved her hand to the far end of the center hallway that led to the dimly-lit servant's entrance. "Now gather up your pails and mops and do as I say."

"Verndalsa won't be happy about it," Ranee said with a barely concealed sneer. "Come on, Demma." Both women hoisted their pails over their shoulders and scurried off.

"Oh, and one more thing," the queen called after them.

The serving women stopped, trembling under her verdict. Hyperia noted, with satisfaction, that Demma had already crumpled into red-faced tears.

"When you are finished with the privies, report to the lower depths."

"The dungeon, milady?" cried Ranee.

"Yes. It is filthy and filled with vermin. I'll be down later this afternoon to inspect your work. Off with you now," she said, fluttering her fingers through the air.

Let this be the first of many changes in my palace now that Nargos is away.

She lifted her skirts to climb the stairs.

Perhaps after my home city is liberated, Nargos will fall from his horse and break his neck. I may even be able to arrange it.

With that hopeful thought dancing in her head, the queen retreated to her chamber and took to her bed for a much-needed rest.