15

It was a stirring tale, animated by Andorin's music and Bron's vivid gestures. She told it well (there were embellishments, of course; Andorin was a bard, after all, and never met a story he couldn't improve). But, dragon versus fey, to the death, in the wastes of the haunted north shore, would have held just about any audience.

There were twists: she tricked it into a stony wash, just as the tide thundered in. Turns: it slithered free through a spume-vent, shooting high in the air on a column of cold and glittering spray. Surprises: the dragon changed forms, becoming a darkly lovely young girl who worked magic with ancient words and the ghost of forgotten gods. Sudden reversals: Titania's mischievous laughter echoed, shaking the rocks and blocking the tide, causing the dragon's vile spell to turn back on its source.

Then, just as the gelatinous slime it had summoned flowed to engulf it… as Bron's arrow flew from her bow, lancing straight for the creature's throat… as it opened its mouth, jetting acid…

Something happened, back home. Lerendar sensed it first, like a stab to the heart that the others picked up, moments later.

"No," he whispered, knowing that Bee and the Scamp were in terrible danger, and that, somehow, it was his fault. The promise, Lerendar realized. He'd made her promise to stay in the house. "Oh, no…"

The elf-lord surged to his feet, turning to rush toward Raya, his browsing horse. But, his heart-friends were moving, too. Bron doused the fire. Elmaris swept everything… food, trash and belongings… into a faerie pocket. Andorin's music changed tone and pace. As the dulcimer played on, he reached out, grasping the warrior's arm.

"Give me a destination, Lan. I will open the way."

The bard's magic had already formed a swirling, watery portal; an oval of silver that hung in the frosty air. Lerendar nodded.

"Home," was all he could say, but it was enough, for those who'd shared body and mind, back in a faraway never-when.

At Andorin's gesture, the portal opened to Starloft. More than that, to the half-swallowed platform on which Lerendar's mansion was built. Mostly rubble and shattered debris now, with the two… three… he loved best trapped inside. Drawing his sword, the warrior leapt through, followed by a trio of former shades.

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Fanged with sharp, splintered lumber, armed with great blocks of dense stone, the orb of Chaos clenched tight. Valerian pushed back. Poured all that he had, life-force included, into keeping a little more space, a little bit longer; taking all of that terrible weight on himself. Got harder with every strained breath, every heartbeat, for the darkness and pressure were building, seeking to crush him and those he fought to protect.

Sheltered beneath him, clutching the child and her shrunken cat, Beatriz gasped,

"It's alright… it's going to be fine, Baby-girl. I love you, Sweetheart, and Papa does, too."

He… could… not… let them die. Was readying last-magic, when in through that vanishing passage crept a slim, questing vine. It entered their shrinking black prison, then budded and flowered, producing a very cramped druid.

Gildyr and Val both reached out at once, convulsively clasping hands.

"Together, my friend," whispered the druid, shouldering some of that crushing burden. "Take heart. Help comes, and swiftly."

Then, with a scatter of fragrant petals, Lady Alyanara's power swept in, forcing the orb to loosen its grip. Not much, but enough to let him draw a deep, gasping breath.

Outside, Lord Galadin had arrived, along with his lady wife. He was once again mainly Firelord, driving most everyone off with his brilliance and heat. Aly could take it. Cinda, Reston and Lerendar, too, along with the furry, black-and-white whirlwind of Skipper.

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Having arrived through a sudden portal, their oldest grandson raced forward, hurtling rubble to skid to a halt at one side of that yards-wide Chaos ball. Yards wide, and steadily shrinking.

Firelord/ Galadin considered a moment. Then,

"Stay your hand," he commanded, as Lerendar raised his sword, preparing to slash at the thing that had swallowed his family. "Damage incurred by the sending will transfer to those trapped within." The high lord, Sword Arm of Alarin, spoke in a complex whisper-roar that shook all of Starloft.

Meanwhile, Alyanara knelt by that shrunken tunnel. No more than a finger's breadth wide, it had been threaded through by a slender vine, one growing out of a very still wood-elf; their druidic visitor.

Andorin, Elmaris and Bron stepped through the portal in Lerendar's wake. As the rogue summoned 'reversal of fortune', Andorin's music altered, becoming a powerful, orderly sea-chanty; the sort of tune that helped folk to raise sails, pull the oars and haul lines. Firelord glanced his way.

"Water magic," he scoffed, expressing multiple threads of disgust with just two scornful words. Then, "I will broaden the tunnel. She-who-is-mate will keep them alive. You, son-of-son, will go in to retrieve them."

Lerendar could only nod, all of his heart and acceptance plain on his face. A certain dark-haired young elf-lass… a mere group leader… had climbed through the shattered debris, daring Firelord's heat to reach Lerendar.

"I can help," Ava whispered. "My Lord, I can follow your lead, and carry whoever you tell me to."

There would be four to extract, through a very tight, shrinking passage. Then Cinda came over to stand beside Ava.

"I will come, too," snapped the young ranger.

"And I," offered Bron, holding a potion of healing and light.

Galadin/ Firelord extended a hand, palm outward. Using just force, not flame, he levered the mage-tunnel wider. A foot, two, then a yard and a half.

"Go," he commanded, his voice cracking stone and tilting their platform.

Lerendar sheathed his sword, then stooped low and rushed in, calling out to his woman and child. Alyanara increased the flow of sunshine, blossom and life she'd been sending, causing the stuff of Chaos to rage and recoil, turning it fragile and grey at the edges.

In through that crumbling passage rushed Lerendar, not at all heeding the vine that he trod on, repeatedly. Got there, to shrieks of,

"Papa! Here we are, Papa!"

Here, in the hate-filled center of Chaos, where there was no room at all to stand up; barely to move. He reached in, caressing Bea's face as she handed over their baby. Kissed the little one, then pushed her on back to Bron… and Cinda… then Ava… who took hold of the child, held tight and then turned to crawl outward.

Next, he seized Beatriz.

"You're released from the promise," he told her. Covered her tear-stained, beautiful face with kisses, then shifted aside to push her at Bron. Again, they chain-brigade moved someone. Cinda, this time, taking the victim and backing to freedom, though Beatriz fought her, not wanting to go without Lerendar.

Ava took over, back at the tunnel's mouth, for Lady Alyanara was entirely focused on keeping her manna flow steady.

As Speckles shot past him, growling, Lerendar next took hold of his half-conscious brother.

"Gotcha," he grunted. "Right here, Miche. Hang on."

The druid just sort of… un-budded; flowing back into his vine and then un-growing out again. Now the darkness rumbled and keened from every direction at once, pressing still harder, meaning to slaughter what it had left.

Lerendar twisted in place, hauling Valerian over and across himself, shoving the kid at Bron.

"Take him," he gasped. "Get him out of here."

The ranger nodded, grabbed hold and began to inch backward. Lerendar followed as best he could, losing a boot and part of his cloak to the fast-clenching darkness behind him. Wouldn't have made it, had Elmaris and Ava not seized him and hauled with the conjured-up strength of ten. Freed, he tumbled over that slanted and crumbling platform as Galadin sketched a binding sigil onto the shuddering orb.

"Away," ordered Ilirian's warden. And it went; snuffed out of existence with a rumbling shock wave that rocked the fortress on its foundations, shattered glass and ripped eardrums.

Lerendar embraced Elmaris and Ava, then got to his feet and rushed across to Bea, who was still being tended by healers. She was semi-conscious and gasping, holding Zara, who squirmed free to hug him.

"I knew you'd come, Papa," she said to him, dirty and runny-nosed… alive, alive, oh gods, still alive. "I knew you'd come get us."

He swallowed hard. Nodded, unable to speak as he took her and Bea into his arms. Never again… not ever… would he ask his woman to promise anything. Just, in a rough, husky voice,

"Wouldn't want to make it official, would you?" he asked, pushing the curly black hair off Bee's scraped and beautiful face. "Stop stringing me along?"

She snorted, coughed and then laughed at him. There might have been a "yes" in there, somewhere, but it was lost in all the confusion that followed. When neither he, nor anyone else, could find Gildyr, Cinda or Val.