“Here should be good,” Rick says. He and Ace release the restrained slaver, and he collapses on the ground. He groans, shifting uncomfortably.

Mara sinks against a tree and rubs her ankle, still shocked that the stone she had found belongs to a dragon prince. Kimala drops her satchel next to Mara and pulls out bandages, swabs, a glove, and the stinging ointment. Mara winces, knowing what her cousin is about to do.

Rick yanks the slaver into a seated position as Ace paces. The guard slaps the big man awake.

Ace stalks to the slaver and grabs his collar, growling, “Where is the dragon duir’ne?” He uses the Xharos term for prince.

He avoids Ace’s icy gaze. “I donno wha’ yer talkin’ abou’,” he slurs. Stunned, Mara stares at the man, recognizing the accent from when she was little; her father’s murderers had had the same accent.

Codi helps Kimala with Mara’s treatment. Mara winces as her shoulder twinges underneath the stinging application of the ointment. She blocks out the pain the best she can.

Ace grins, baring his teeth. His blue eyes darken visibly as his thumb barely touches the slaver’s collarbone underneath the shirt. “Barrew, is it? Tell me where you’re keeping the dragon duir’ne and I’ll let you off easy.”

Everyone’s eyes widen as Ace speaks. “Mind-weaver,” Rick breathes, paling significantly.

Barrew gulps, unable to look away from Ace’s terrifying gaze. “I-I won’t say,” he forces out.

Ace releases the slaver, his facial features oddly smooth. “So be it.” He grins, something bright flashing through his eyes. “Tell me, which do you prefer? Being trapped inside your own mind, or experiencing your fears in the world?”

The blonde elf’s palm covers the man’s forehead before he can respond. Ace closes his eyes as Barrew’s face slackens. Ace removes his hand and wipes it on his tunic, glaring at the man in disgust.

Rick levels his sword at Ace. The tip trembles. “Who are you?”

Shocked, Ace stares at the tip of the sword. “Someone could get hurt if you point with that…”

“Answer me, mind-weaver!” Rick demands, gritting his teeth.

Ace looks the guard directly in the eyes. “Ace Narweun, spy for the Quasalan Council,” he finally admits, slowly easing a smooth medallion out of his pocket. A gold tree on a green background is etched on the surface. “I was sent to investigate this year’s black market in hopes of finding the missing dragon duir’ne.”

He’s a spy? Mara thinks, in awe. How do you even get a position like that so young?

Rick holds out his hand for the crest, and Ace tosses it to him. The guard examines it closely, narrowing his eyes as he inspects the sigil. Satisfied with whatever he found, he lowers his sword and hands the sigil back to Ace. He bows deeply from the waist. “I apologize for doubting you, sir.”

Ace shakes his head. “There are too many of the royal guard I can fool just by flashing this around. To see you inspect it…” He eyes Rick, smiling. “It is good to know there are still some who check the facts before taking them at face value.”

Startled by the compliment, Rick straightens. “Thank you, sir.” He glances at the glassy-eyed Barrew. “What… did you do to him?”

Ace smiles innocently. “Oh, just found what his worst fear is and locked him inside his mind with it.”

Mara’s blood chills at these words. She hisses as her wrist throbs painfully under the application of the orica. Kimala and Codi seem surprised by Ace’s identity, but act as though his ability to mess with someone’s mind is not unusual.

Ace touches Barrew’s forehead lightly. The man heaves in large gulps of air, his face breaking out in a cold sweat as he hunches over and trembles at Ace’s feet. His eyes are filled with terror.

Ace squats in front of the man, his arms resting on his knees. “If you do not tell me everything you know on the dragon duir’ne, I will retrieve the information myself – and you will definitely not like that.”

The skin around Barrew’s lips turns a little green. He looks as if he is going to hurl. “I-I’ll tell ye,” he rushes, swallowing hard. “Just… please. No more.”

Ace beams at the man. “Great! Where is the duir’ne?”

The slaver takes a deep breath. “The wagon has a holdin’ cell. Boss put some necklace on ’im when we first got ’im.”

Ace closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “A forced morphing charm…”

Kimala accidentally yanks the bandage around Mara’s wrist a little hard. Mara glances at her in time to see her lips tremble. “What’s wrong?” Mara asks, suddenly worried.

Kimala jerks her head from side to side. “A morphing charm is… illegal.”

At Mara’s confused expression, Codi explains quietly, “It forcefully condenses the creature into a bipedal form, making it an unnatural transformation. Kidnappers and slavers use morphing charms to make the individual… transportable.” He spits out the last word in disgust.

Mara pales. She can imagine the bones shifting, aching as they are crammed against one another. They chafe and cut into muscle as they shrink… She takes a deep breath, casting the odd imagery out of her mind. Where had that come from?

Rick frowns, all of his focus on Ace’s conversation with Barrew. “That means the duir’ne’s power has been restrained, as well. It explains why he has not escaped yet.”

Ace nods. “It also explains why he is able to fit into the wagon.”

Kimala finishes bandaging Mara’s ankle. “Help me up,” she asks her brother. Confused, he clasps her hand and pulls her to her feet, helping her over to the others. “Do you mind if I ask a few questions?” she directs at Ace and Rick.

Ace shrugs. “I see no harm in it.”

Mara gestures at the big man. “The others like you. How many are there total, not including those in the attack earlier? How many are mages? What are your formations?”

Rick and Ace appraise Mara, recognizing her natural talent for the tactical field. Ace bumps the toe of his boot against the silent Barrew. “Answer her.”

Barrew fidgets, glancing between his interrogators. He opens his mouth, spilling the secrets of his comrades.

Within minutes, they learn there are twenty-five slavers in all: one leader, four mages, and twenty regular fighters. The leader is a creature native to Quanaris, but no one stops to explain to Mara what exactly a tav’luk is. Five slavers are on guard around the caravan at all times, and another five act as scouts in the woods ahead and behind the caravan. Shifts are five hours except for the last shift of the night, which is six hours long.

Two guards watch the entrance of the enclosed wagon at all times with the strongest shift on watch during the nighttime and the weakest shift at mealtime. Only the two on the last shift know combative Source techniques; the mages only know translocation and movement spells.

Ace claps his hands together, looking almost excited. “I do believe we have all the information we need. Thank you.”

“What if he is lying to try to deceive us?” Mara asks.

Ace gives the slaver a nasty grin. “If he’s lying, I’ll find out – and our little bargain is off.”

The slaver gulps, terror flashing through his eyes.

Ace rubs his hands together and glances at Rick. “Can you help me out?”

Rick warily examines Ace’s innocent expression. “What do you need me for?”

“Oh, just carrying him.” Ace’s fist flies to the slaver’s face, knocking him out in one blow. “That felt good.”

Sighing, Rick helps Ace drag the unconscious man into the woods. Kimala, Codi, and Mara glance at one another, none of them quite sure how to take what had just happened.

Finally, Codi clears his throat. “You should try to get some sleep, Mara.”

Mara shakes her head. Her ankle had started throbbing several minutes ago, but she doesn’t want to ask Kimala for help. “I’m not tired,” she fibs, subtly shifting her weight onto her left foot to relieve the pressure on her infected limb. “Anyway, when they get back, we need to figure out a plan to get the-the duir’ne.” She stammers over the new word, still unused to it.

Kimala ruffles through her satchel, her hand reaching deeper into it than possible. “At least try to rest.” She pulls out a vial of blue-green liquid and offers it to Mara. “Drink this.”

Mara takes it, examining the swirling liquid. “What is it?”

“It will help you,” Kimala states simply as she reorganizes some of the items within her bag.

Mara knocks the potion back in one gulp. The liquid slides down her throat, making her tongue and esophagus tingle. She hands the vial back to Kimala.

“So how long does it take to work?” Mara asks just as Ace and Rick walk back into the clearing. She leans against the tree, taking more weight off of her foot as the throbbing in her ankle lessens.

“A minute or two. Codi, could you keep an eye on her?” Kimala asks as she takes Mara’s sleeping mat and spreads it out.

“I can do… that…” Mara’s head swims as soon as she starts to move. Clutching her head, she falls against the tree and sinks to the ground with Codi’s help. “Cheater,” she mumbles, her eyes slipping closed as she recognizes the feeling of strong painkillers taking a hold of her consciousness. She passes out, falling against Codi.

Ace frowns as Codi carries his sister to the mat. “What did you give her?”

Kimala sets up her own mat. “Anesthetic.”

Codi, tucking Mara in, glances at Kimala. “Why did she pass out, though?”

Kimala shakes her head. “Pain was keeping her up; despite the ointment, I could tell the infection was still hurting her.”

Codi stares at Mara’s face, noticing in the dim moonlight that she looks relaxed. “At least she’s finally resting. What did you do with the slaver?”

Ace drops his bag next to a tree, taking first shift on guard duty. He cheerily answers, “Wiped his memory, planted fake ones, and sent him on his way.”

They stare at the humming elf in stunned silence.

~ • ~

Mara stands in front of a silver engraved door fading into the surrounding darkness as if it barely exists. Oddly, she feels lightweight as if gravity has no influence on her. She can tell she is dreaming, but it feels oddly real.

The engraved door creaks open and a slender hand beckons to her.

“Come here…”

The voice is unfamiliar, but melodic and beautiful. Mara creeps closer and peers into the darkness. Someone stands on the other side, reaching for her. Is it… herself?

“Let me help you…”

This time, the voice is a young girl’s, hauntingly eerie in its innocence as the hand points at Mara’s Hemius. She feels as though the little girl is not really there.

Mara peers around the door to get a better look.

Shokain leans forward, reaching for her hand just like he used to do when she was little. “Let’s go home,” he says, his burnt golden eyes warm and inviting.

Mara jolts upright, breathing heavily. Her heart pounds in her ears. Despite it being a dream, she has a nagging feeling she would not have stayed the same if she had taken that hand.

She glances around, noticing the stars are still out although the moons had set. Three other sleeping mats rise and fall gently as her companions sleep.

“Nightmare?” Ace asks softly, leaning against a tree with his head back, gazing at the sky.

Mara creeps over and sits against a neighboring tree, rubbing her ankle. It doesn’t hurt as much as before, although the throbbing is starting up again. “Something like that.”

Ace closes his eyes. “Never fun.”

A comfortable silence falls between them. After a while, Mara finally asks the question that has been nagging her for a while. “Where are you from?”

Ace glances at her, his lips quirking up. “Alkina. You?”

She sighs. “Complicated. So are you really a spy? What’s it like?”

Ace chuckles, turning his head to face her. “Interested in being one?”

Mara stares at her bandaged wrist; she still can’t believe this… thing is going to kill her eventually. “By the sounds of it, I won’t live much longer for it to matter.”

Ace reaches over and takes Mara’s left hand, squeezing her fingers gently. Startled by the unexpected touch, she glances into his eyes. Are they… glowing? “Please don’t think that way,” he pleads, his voice soft.

Mara nods mutely.

He pats her left hand, smiling. “Are you planning to study at Cerlail Academy? What do you want to study?”

Mara’s eyelids grow heavier. The pain in her ankle, wrist, and shoulder fade into the background, easily ignorable. She draws her legs up and places her head on them, staring at his fingers still on her hand. “I dunno.”

Ace chuckles. “Getting sleepy?”

Mara closes her eyes, suddenly exhausted. “Yeah…”

“Do you need help back to your mat?” he asks, glancing across the small camp at her sleeping mat not even ten feet away.

The weird dream from earlier flashes through her mind. She shakes her head rapidly, sitting upright and blinking away the tiredness. “I’ll just stay up for a bit.”

“You need to rest, Mara.” He lets go of her hand to grab the long brown coat on top of his bag. He puts the folded material on his leg, patting it invitingly. “Here.”

Mara stares at it. Not fully registering what she is doing, she curls up next to him, resting her head on his cushioned leg. Her eyes are closed before she even mumbles her appreciation.