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Once I got beyond the Border, I was home free. I stopped at a small village hostel to rest. Olan's healer had done the best he could, but now that the adrenaline rush of my escape was gone, everything was coming back with a vengeance. As soon as I had my room paid for, I went to it and threw myself down on the bed. I was bone-weary, exhausted, and spell-shocked. I could no longer fight it off; I lost the battle against sleep.
* * * The inn was in flames.
I couldn't believe my eyes. The Green Dragon Inn crackled and crumbled before me like so much firewood. I stared uncomprehendingly at the flames. Panic seized me as I realized that Krolaun and the others might still be in there.
Frantically, I ran upt to the rubble, searching for any sign of survivors. Not a soul was to be found.
Oh, please, no. . .
I grabbed up the still-burning timbers of the inn, tossing them aside. Tears would have streaked my face, but the heat stole them away. Some distant piece of my mind was reminded of the Fire Purge, but I didn't care. My friends were here somewhere, and I would not stop until I found them!
"You'll never find them."
That voice. . . ! I turned, slowly, reaching for weapons I no longer had. I stared hatefully at Sharidia as she stood across the clearing.
"You did this!" I cried, "You destroyed my home!"
She crossed her arms, a satisfied smile on her face, "Of course. I couldn't let you leave empty-handed."
She took but one step forward, but she seemed to close the distance between us that quickly. Time slowed so that every detail would be eternally engraved in my mind. Her sword seemed to be on fire as she drew it. I could only stare as she brought it up in an upward slash. I didn't even feel the blade bite my flesh. The only thing I registered was the blood that suddenly began to run underneath my tunic.
My eyes became glassy as I fell backwards, but I managed to turn towards the inn. A silhouette against the flames caught my attention, but I was even more caught by the grey eyes that looked at me.
I couldn't believe it. Alive. He was alive.
Krolaun. . .
* * * I woke up, trembling wildly, drenched in my own fevered perspiration. My breath came in ragged gasps as I fought to regain control over myself. But, even as I sat there, the dream would not be dismissed. It lingered in my mind and heart, like some sinister serpent coiling around its prey.
I sat there amid the rucked up bedthings as I sought to banish the dream. Relentlessly, it remained. I looked out the window to the deepening night, wondering if this were some premonition. As I leapt from the bed, my mind and heart knew only one thing.
I had to get home.
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© 1999 E. Angeli Mansfield