Heshberu let out a startled, pitiful cry and scattered at the drake’s thunderous approach, fear taking him, for few there were that would dare to stand before a charging Drake as Ishkinil did. Fearsome they were, and dreadful foes, lords of the wastes and deserts, with few to trouble them.

Ishkinil, though, did not turn and flee. Still she stood, a statue in its path, eyes always upon its every move. Closer yet it came, leave destruction in its wake. There was no awareness in its eyes, just swirling insanity. Its head it lowered, horns thrust forward, and it kicked up dirt as it surged forward, intent on impaling Ishkinil.

The raven gave voice to a long cry, swooping towards he drake, yet no attention it paid to it, a shadowed disturbance that could not penetrate its poisoned addled mind.

At the last moment, as the beast was all but upon her, Ishkinil sprung aside and Dirgesinger crooned a it swept through the air, arcing down upon the outstretched neck of the drake. Deep it cut, scoring through scale and flesh, yet, in its enraged state, agony clouding its mind, the drake noticed it not, even as blackened blood flowed from the wound, down its scales.

It spun around as Ishkinil avoided it, kicking up dirt as it did, its tail lashing the air behind, teeth snapping and horns tossing. Once more it lunged, Ishkinil rolling aside. She came back to her feet, crouched low, Dirgesinger singing its unearthly tune as once more it scored a blow, across the drake’s foreleg. Blood and pain were irrelevant to it, little more than an irritant. While Ishkinil’s blows, even coming for her mystical blade, did little to the beast, it would take but one blow from the powerful beast to end the battle, for its rending teeth and wicked horns would inflict terrible damage if they connected.

Once more the raven swooped in, claws racking for the eyes. The beast tossed its head, forcing the raven to swerve aside, least it be impaled upon the horns of the drake. Again the raven tried to dive in, yet always the drake tossed and span about, driving its assailant away.

In that moment of distraction, Ishkinil darted in, Dirgesinger blazing white-blue in the shimmering sun, and once, twice, thrice she slashed, all but too quick to see, while about her the shadows drew close. Blood seeped from the wounds inflicted upon the beast and its cried became fevered moans, stung to the quick but not yet finished. Ishkinil backed away and waited while the raven hovered above.

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The beast stood there for a moment, its head lowered, the frothing at its mouth now specked with black blood. It took a few paces forward, not towards Ishkinil but to the water’s edge and collapsed onto its front knees. Its great head descended to the water and it let out the most pitiful bellow, both pained and confused. Then it sunk down to the ground, great flanks heaving.

Slowly did Ishkinil approach it, holding out an empty hand towards it. The drake did not react as she drew near, to rest her hand on its side. It twitched but made no moves against her.

“Rest now, great one,” she whispered to it. “Let the pain depart. Soon you shall run free in endless fields, where crystal waters await you.”

The drake snorted, almost as if it could understand her words. Then its eyes lidded shut and its breathing subsided. As Heshberu watched from a distance, hidden out of the way, it was if a ghostly figure appeared alongside Ishkinil and the drake, tall and radiant and it seemed to him as if it lifted up the drake, or at least part of it, a ghostly reflection of the drake, and then was gone.

Ishkinil stayed alongside the drake, hand up it, and the sound of a song came from her, a mournful dirge, one for the drake. Croaking, the raven took it up as well and then came the metallic hints of a song from Dirgesinger, to add to the song, the three woven together in something so profound that it stirred the deepest of emotions.

Heshberu remained unmoving as the song went on, until the last notes drifted away. Only then, as Ishkinil sheathed Dirgesinger, did he creep out from where he had hidden during the battle.

“Why did you sing for such a creature as that?” he asked, “For it sought to slay you.”

“It knew not what it was doing,” Ishkinil told him, her eyes flashing hard and grim. “It was too far gone from the poison, its mind addled, its pain great. Long should it still have lived, its life ended by no fault of its own. I bear it no blame for its actions. Nay, all blame goes to whatever is the cause of this. There is a mind behind this, of that I am sure. One I mean to find and hold to account. You say that it was at the Well of Silver Stars were all this began?”

“That is so,” Heshberu replied.

“Then we shall start there, to seek out the answers that we desire.”

“O Lady of Shadows, we have already searched there, and none have found ought to tell. Aye, even the enku delved there for answers and proclaimed that none were to be had.”

Ishkinil’s look sharpened and she fixed a firm gaze upon Heshberu. “There is an enku here, guarding the lands?”

“It is so, O Queen of the Lost. Long has he guarded these lands, long has he watched over us. He first of all we went to and yet he could find out nothing.”

“I think,” Ishkinil replied quietly, “I should speak to this enku. “Take me to him and we shall discover what we can from him.”