Jalhar muffled a curse as the weight of the strange and definitely under-dressed woman sagged in his arms, obviously overwhelmed by
the rough passage. The oddly shaped pack on her back had to weigh nearly as much as she did he noted as his arms strained under the
load. His mouth twisted in bleak humor, even if his knees had not been shaking from the violence of the trip, he wouldn’t have been
comfortable with the weight. Apparently some things were a constant between the worlds, even women that ran around half naked still
managed to lug around an obscene amount of stuff.
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear the unpleasant buzz that rang through his ears, Jalhar tried to focus his eyes and see who was
catching today. The ringing in his ears was a familiar warning, if he didn’t get some help soon he was going to pass out and there wasn’t
time for that. It was likely the creatures would be able to follow him between the worlds again and he wasn’t in any shape to deal with them
now.
The amulet Grim had given him was not designed to move so much mass between the spheres and he was lucky to have actually made
the last jump at all. To be honest, it was quite possible that not everything had made it through. It certainly felt like he had left his stomach
and maybe a chunk of his lungs behind on that last searing world. The jump back had been full of gut wrenching distortions of time, space
and form that threatened to tear both mind and body apart.
He could not imagine how the woman had dealt with it all, though he supposed he should be grateful she had been too shocked to fight
him. As it was, it was nothing short of a miracle his grip hadn’t slipped or she would have been lost to limbo. That was a fate almost as
horrific as the one he pulled her away from. Thankfully, they were now safe at home, he thought so anyway. It was hard to be sure when
everything was covered in a misty haze he had a sinking feeling was all in his mind.
Jalhar blinked furiously, trying to force the room into focus through a shear act of will, but nothing worked. He tensed then relaxed as an odd
sucking noise announced the rift between the worlds was closed. It was too much to hope that some of the Unclean Ones following him
had been caught in the tunnel when it closed, but it was a fond thought. He knew from bitter experience that life was not so kind.
His sight was only coming in flashes now, warning him that whatever had kept him going so far was about done. Making an educated
guess at his surroundings, Jalhar staggering towards the darkness that he hoped marked the passageway. When his arms gave out, he
didn’t stop, but settled for dragging the unconscious woman with him. He had to clear the area quickly. The designated guard had only a
few scant moments to raise the protections before the predictable assault attempts would begin again. If he couldn’t get out of the way
soon another wave of the unclean would be able to try and come through. It just would be nice if his feet would work properly though.
A blink later and Jalhar was shocked to find himself sitting on the floor just beyond the doorway, the press against his thigh told him the
woman was crumpled beside him. When had he fallen? In that moment he realized that the woman was nearly undressed and was now
probably sprawled in the corner of the great temple. The priests would have a fit.
Sighing at the silliness of it all, Jalhar loosened his cloak with clumsy fingers and flicked the cloth over her overexposed curves. It would
have been nice if he could have managed to carry her to his room, but at the moment he did not have the energy to move his arm, much
less a whole other person.
After a particularly nasty lurch in his stomach, Jalhar rested his head against the wall and waited for the world to quit spinning. Once things
settled down he would try moving again. Besides, the others would come soon enough; they would’ve felt his arrival even in their sleep.
“Are you injured?” Grim’s voice came to him through the ruby ring that bound them all closer than brothers. On the heels of that question
Jalhar felt the concern of the other ring wielders brush against his mind as they used the rings to lend him some of their own strength. The
wave of support and comfort reminded him in an instant why he would die to protect them all. Gathering the concentration needed to project
his thoughts through the ring, Jalhar forced his feelings of malaise away so they would not all be forced to share it. Jalhar’s lips thinned
with the effort. Shielding them at the moment took more work than he cared to contemplate.
“I am well enough. The escape from the Unclean Ones was difficult this time. They were able to follow me between worlds.” He projected
the memory of the three creatures emerging from their own hole in reality. “Even random jumping did not throw them off.”
The silence in the rings was deafening. One of the few advantages they had been blessed with in their war with the Unclean had been their
ability to retreat to another sphere of the universe. That was now gone and the prospects for their future battles were bleak. His mood
darkened further. “Even worse, the jumping endangered an innocent on one of the unknown worlds. I was given no choice but to stay and
defend her, interestingly enough the woman would not let me stand alone. She must be some sort of magician because she threw a
strange powder on the vile ones and it injured them greatly.”
“How much did it injure them?” Jasmine’s tone was sharp with interest and more than a little disbelief. She had been searching for months
for a spell to harm the beasts.
Jalhar flashed the memory of the melting forms to all of them, knowing that the memory was the best explanation. Her powder did more
than I would have been able to do at the time. I was already weakened from the journey.” It was hard to admit how desperately weak he was
at the moment.
A wave of shared shock and astonishment threatened to drown him for a moment. No one among the Lords had ever seen damage like
that before. After a moment Jasmine spoke again, her mental voice sharp with enthusiasm. “Did you bring any of that powder back with
you?”
A slight smile flickered on his lips, leave it to Jasmine to focus on the powder and not the actions of the woman. “None of it was left when
the rift opened, so I brought her through with me. Besides, I couldn’t leave her to the Unclean Ones.” He allowed the others to feel his
chagrin. “Unfortunately, she had a huge pack on and I didn’t realize just how much it weighed. The trip was extremely unpleasant for both of
us. I was not sure we would survive,” he admitted softly.
There was a growl of frustration through the rings. “I will send someone to your quarters to attend you.” Grimaryl’s frustrated tone warned
against any argument. Everyone knew he felt the costs of their war more deeply than most.
Jalhar winced at the thought being coddled. Just the idea made his teeth hurt, but ticking Grimaryl off would hurt even more. The man gave
a whole new meaning to the word repressed. He was the sort to heal you just so he could beat you properly for worrying him so much.
From long experience, Jalhar knew his pride wasn’t worth the pain. “I would be grateful for the help.”
A soothing silence greeted his capituation and the pressure of their minds faded. They would not question him further until he had been
checked over and they were sure he was well. Even though they had gifted him with some strength, Jalhar was still reluctant to test the gift
just yet. Tentatively cracking his eyes open, Jalhar took a deep breath and prayed the world had stopped spinning. It had, but a dull
thudding at the back of his head kept him from enjoying that small relief.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself to focus. Slowly the pale lines of the walls resolved into sensible patterns and Jalhar
let himself take a deep breath of relief. So his eyes still worked, it was good to know. Too bad his mind was still going to betray him.
From the ache in his bones, Jalhar knew he didn’t have much time before the shades would come for him and drag him back to his past.
That fact alone was enough to let him struggle to his feet and glance into the room behind him. Teleri was stringing sharp, razor thin
enchanted wire through the room at two finger wide intervals to prevent any creatures from trying to come through to their world.
“Do you need any help?” He offered through the ring, knowing how important it was for their defenses to be raised as soon as possible.
Even so, Jalhar made no motion to enter the room. It was a very bad idea to startle Teleri when she was prepared for combat.
There was a curt shake of her head, but she did not so much as glance over her shoulder. “Things are well in hand here; see to yourself
and your guest.” The elfling’s mental voice was always surprisingly strong, but everything about Teleri was surprising. She had joined the
Ruby Lords when they were struggling to just stay alive and had never looked back. All questions about her past were politely, but firmly
turned away.
Well he could understand that. She had moved into a place in his heart that had been left empty by the death of his sisters. The object of his
quiet reflection blurred as his eyes refused to focus. He shook his head again to try and clear the growing pain. Teleri could see to the
room without difficulty, he was more likely to get in the way at this point.
He staggered over to the crumpled woman partially propped against the wall. She looked like he felt. There was no help for it; he was going
to have to carry her unless she roused sometime soon. At least the pack would be a little easier to deal with this time. It only took a couple
of moments to disentangle the straps from her body and prop the monstrosity to one side. Jalhar couldn’t help but be amazed that the
woman had been preparing to run with so much weight on her back. The thing was nearly waist-high and felt surprisingly solid. Whoever
she was, she knew how to pack and apparently had the strength of a small mule.
Bending his knees, he slipped the heavy green canvas pack onto his protesting back. A part of him wanted to send for a pack goat to
manage the burden, but it would take too much time to get the beast into the temple. It was time he didn’t have. Besides, who knew what
kind of things she had in her pack, they might be damaged if they were not carried just right. Grim would definitely want to supervise the
unpacking when it came time to examine the contents. He was probably already rubbing his hands in anticipation.
As for the woman, he bent and lifted her up in his arms. It was time to take her back to his quarters. She might wake soon and he wanted
her somewhere contained and hopefully not too strange to her eyes. He grunted, more than a little surprised as he hefted her in his arms;
without the pack she was startlingly light—of course it was not as if she was wearing much.
“Really?” Grim’s voice echoed in his head, interested and amused. “She helped you fight off some Unclean Ones in a state of undress—
what an enchanting woman! Or perhaps she had some sort of magical protection?” There was only the faintest hint of curiosity in Grim’s
tone, but Jalhar was not fooled.
Jalhar chuckled to himself as he walked slowly to his quarters. He did not make the mistake that Grim was in any way interested in the
woman. The man had sworn off the fairer sex long ago. No, Grim was only interested in any new magic the woman could bring them. The
mage was focused on eliminating the Unclean and killing his demonic wife. Thanks to that particular succubus, Grim was always
interested in new ways of dealing death in the hopes that one would finally end his bond to the wench forever.
“Too true,” a voice laughed in his mind. “But I think I may have something to help you deal with that woman, so I will meet you at your
quarters. I already sent Grimaryl‘s nursemaid on their way, I promised I would see to you instead.”
“Well enough. If I am carrying the woman around, you would think they would all be assured of my health.” Jalhar was tired and it made him
cranky; he could not maintain the concentration to project his thoughts to a specific individual through the rings much longer. He needed to
get the woman to where she could be seen to and unfortunately, that meant that he was going to have tend to her before he could seek his
own bed.
His feet made no noise as he padded softly across the glistening marble floor to the tunneled entrance of the castle. Though he had more
reason than others to dread the exhaustion crawling through his blood, he would not press his duties off on the others. Everyone who bore
the ruby ring was marked by the past. All of them had lost everything, sometimes more than once. He would not pull anyone from their
duties to attend to his needs, they were all too critical now that the war had changed again.
The Ruby Lords were a sworn brotherhood, a family to replace the ones that were lost; each Lord was bound with an oath of vengeance
and death. Needless to say, he had joined without hesitation, happy to find so many like minded people. He had never guessed that he
would find in them another family to replace the one he had lost so long ago. Hundreds, then thousands, of refugees had come to shelter
under their banner. In the wilderness they had started rebuilding not only a country, but a way of life. Life had been hard at first but as the
walls of their castles grew an entirely new people were born.
Sometimes he thought it was just a more subtle form of a curse to have so many people under their care. It just meant that their every
action, carried a horrible weight and consequence and failures were enough to damn their souls. At times he wished that it all would end
so he wouldn’t have to worry so much anymore.
Jalhar turned down the cool, deeply sunken corridors leading to the sheltered private chambers of the castle, relieved that no one had
come to greet him. He was not fit company and wanted to seek some sort of oblivion before his mind got fixed in the past. To distract
himself he thought of his favorite pastime; hunting dragons. He supposed that was why the people were fond of him too. All a villages had
to do was send word at the first spoor, and he would come. Grimaryl could tend to the people; his business was with the monsters. Just
the thought of the monsters made the scent of burning grow stronger in the air and it was effort to wrench his thoughts away from such a
dangerous path
Jalhar breathed a sigh of relief as the door to his quarters finally loomed before him. The woman was not growing any lighter and the
corridor was nearly as dark as his thoughts. Soon he would not be fit company for a troll. He triggered the hidden safety panel in the wall
and waited for the wall to slide open, scarcely sparing a glance for the dummy door to trap the unwelcome.
The scents of home struck him like a renewing draught. Striding into the common area with renewed vigor; Jalhar let the smell of leather
and curing herbs ease a little more of the tension from the disastrous trip. Here at least he was safe or as safe as he ever could be.
The woman stirred in his arms as if she too was revived by the rich scents of the room. Careful not to jostle her further, Jalhar placed her on
one of the overstuffed couches in the outer chambers and eased her pack down with a sigh of release. Rolling his shoulders in relief,
Jalhar looked about the room and tried to decide what exactly he should do with the woman. Thankfully the castle attendants had ensured
he came back to warm quarters so she would not become chilled. He was absurdly grateful that the fire did not need tending, he just did
not have the energy for it.
Going to the enormous table that stood opposite of the fire place he looked over its contents with a jaded eye looking to see if any were
missing. He found it easier to keep his medicinal supplies secured in his room and safe from tampering hands. There was a more formal
house of healing that he kept stocked with basics, but the rare, dangerous and expensive mixtures were, by tradition, kept in the quarters of
the healer that prepared them. Fortunately they did not take up too much space.
He poured himself a glass of a vile yellow mixture, if Grim was coming he was not going to be allowed to find his rest. He hated using
artificial stimulants but he needed to see to the woman and make his report while the events were still fresh in his mind. When the draught
wore off he would sleep for nearly a day, but that would not be a problem now that he was back at Castle Atyar. Unfortunately, he was
already tired enough that the dreams would come; which meant he would have to remember to take his ring off before he slept. It would not
be polite to give all the other wielders nightmares too. He just hoped he would be back in his room before the waking dreams started.
He looked at the woman stirring beneath his cloak. The day on her world had been waning as it was on this one, so she was probably
going to be even more disoriented than he was now. It would be best if she slept and faced a new day with a clear mind, not to mention it
would be far easier upon him. He carefully measured a small dose of the clear green liquid he kept in a thin black vial. If she was as badly
affected as he thought, she would need this as soon as possible. A pressure in his mind warned him of company before the door to his
quarters opened.
“Hello, Grim.” He winced at the exhaustion so clearly audible in his tone. Lifting his glass, he swallowed the noxious yellow liquid with one
gulp. The thin glass with the bright green fluid trembled a little in his hand as he carried it to the low stone table in front of the couch.
“Rough trip,” Grim observed quietly, the cool gray eyes following his movements and missing nothing. “I have not seen you this tired in a
while.”
Jalhar shuddered as the yellow liquid threatened to burn through his abused throat. “I avoid it whenever possible.” His voice sounded
harsh to even his ears. For a moment all he could do was brace against the table as he fought to control his rebelling stomach.
Something odd flashed in Grim’s face that he would have named as compassion on any other man. “Well, you might be glad to know I sent
men to collect the skins of the creatures you killed before you left.”
Glad for the distraction, Jalhar nodded thoughtfully, “Did they get the rest of the flight? The way they looked they could go any day now.”
Memories threatened to push through to reality at just the thought.
A warm hand came down on his shoulder and squeezed softly. “There is no chance of that now, my friend. Put your mind at ease.” This
time there was no mistaking the gentleness of the tone. Grim and all the other ring wielders had glimpsed his visions; most thought they
were just vivid memories though. Grim was one of the few that knew they haunted Jalhar even when he was awake, but even he did not
know the whole of it. Only Grimaryl knew the depths of his curse and the toll this level of exhaustion extracted. Jalhar did not feel the need to
share that particular bit of information with any of the others either. Some things were just humiliating, even among family.
The truth of it was that only his hatred of the monsters allowed him to rise each day and live through the gnawing pain of the wounds on his
soul. His flesh had healed years ago, but his spirit was still torn asunder and there were times he yearned for the death that had embraced
his family so brutally. At least then it would be over, but who would take up his cause to hunt the beasts?
Jalhar bore the memories as a reminder of his sisters. A vicious prod to ensure he would never let up; never stop until there were no more
victims. Maybe then he could sleep. All of that wouldn’t help now though, Jalhar knelt on the floor beside the woman and scrubbed his face,
trying to wake up.
He could feel how uncomfortable Grim was with his obvious weakness, but thankfully the wizard confined himself to basic questions. “Did
you get a chance to look around any before they found you?”
Jalhar couldn’t stop his shoulders from slumping a little. “Sorry, Grim. They discovered me almost right away. It was a running fight from the
first. I was able to pick off several of the minor guards, but we are no closer to learning their plans.”
“Did they scratch you anywhere?” The underlying urgency in Grim’s tone was all too understandable. The touch of the Unclean was death
as often as not.
“Not with their claws,” He reassured quickly. “I have a few nicks and cuts, but they are from safe sources. Dragons seem to have some
small use after all.” He plucked at the leather that sheathed him from neck to foot. “For all that it is a pain to work, their hide makes superior
armor.”
Grim laughed harshly though no laughter moved in his eyes. “I think you have given us enough of the stuff to encase the entire army.”
Jalhar’s mouth quirked but it was not a nice smile. “Not yet, but it’s an appealing thought. I’ll have to consider it.” The very number of
creatures that would have to die sounded like a delicious challenge and their deaths would be a welcome distraction. His eyes burned with
the thought of hunting down the murderous creatures.
His mentor, Rahne, had tried to convince him that dragons were just part of the natural cycle of life and death but all the lectures had never
taken root. His friend had urged him on more than one occasion to let go of the past, but it was all Jalhar could do not to laugh in his face. It
was the past that would not let go of him.
“Jalhar, you really need to learn to develop a sense of humor.” Grim was shaking his head with an almost rueful expression.
“Say something funny,” Jalhar retorted as he flexed his arms, trying to bring some life back into them. “I think you had a perfectly good idea.”
A decidedly rude noise escaped the mage. “Although I normally applaud the rare occasions you decide to listen to me, Jalhar, this is not
one of them. Take a while to rest and recover. I know what kind of trip you had.”
He grunted as the first hints of the drug hitting thrilled through his system. “Yeah, it was so rough I might have to take a vacation.” They both
knew it was just another name for a hunting trip.
Grim groaned and shook his head in mock despair. “You brainless…” His tirade was cut off as an echo of his groan sounded from the
bundle on the couch.
As they watched the woman stirred, her eyes fluttering as she struggled back to consciousness. Not wanting her to get too far in the
process, Jalhar lifted the woman into a sitting position ignoring how his cloak fell to the side. He noted Grim’s startled oath absently, as his
attention focused on the woman.
“She stood her ground against the Unclean in that?” It was the first time he had heard Grim sputter in years. “Is she insane.”
“Yes and probably.” Jalhar did not have time earlier to appreciate exactly how undressed the woman was and was perversely grateful he
was so tired at the moment. Having her body pressed against him with just some small scraps of cloth clinging closer than a second skin,
felt absurdly good. He was sure that things would have become uncomfortable quickly if he was any less exhausted.
Doing his best to avert his gaze from the blatant display of curved flesh, Jalhar strove to rouse the woman just enough to make her
swallow. She needed to recover from the horrible trip almost as badly as he did. It was somehow reassuring that at least one of them
would get a good sleep. It was probably the best medicine for the woman at the moment. Additionally, he did not have the time to deal with
her either. Ensuring her sleep would give him the time he needed to make a report, and hopefully partially recover.
The woman’s eyes opened, revealing a gaze of deepest blue-green that was hazed with confusion. She garbled something and cradled
her head in shaking hands. He couldn’t help but note her fingers tunneled through a thick mass of rich brown hair that fell wildly around her
face in a way he found most appealing, though of course her state of undress didn‘t hurt either.
Forcing his mind back to the issue at hand, Jalhar continued to silently try and reassure her. Too bad he didn’t understand her language,
though he was willing to bet she had said something along the lines of “What the hell just happened?”
He didn’t voice a reply, not wanting her to become more confused, but instead held the drink to her lips and silently urged her to drink. He
could not stop himself from sighing with relief when she gazed deeply into his eyes before nodding in compliance and drank. The drug
would hit swiftly.
Using his hands to urge her back down on the couch, Jalhar pulled his cloak back over her form. He didn‘t want her to think he was going
to do anything dishonorable. Any fear or alarm would slow the medicine and possibly send her into nightmares. Unwilling to risk alarming
her, he soothed her brow as he waited for the medicine to take hold. He finally breathed a sigh of relief when she relaxed into a deep
slumber.
Grim’s hand grasped his shoulder lightly. “Let me take care of this woman for you, my friend. You need to clean up before you see Grimaryl
or he will have a fit and probably banish you to the sick bed for a week.”
He grunted, “I might just have to kill him if he tried.” Alone in his bed with his own thoughts for a week, a shudder coursed down his spine,
he would rather be tortured.
“Just so, and Rahne will want to hear and see what you did find so he can schedule the patrols. Between the two of them, you are in for a
long night without adding the woman’s needs to it.” At his nod of permission, Grim lifted the woman easily into his arms. “I will place her in
your guestroom and sit watch on her tonight.”
“Thank you.” Of course the woman would have to be guarded he reminded himself. There was no telling if the drug would effect her as it
should, though he was sure that it was not concern for the woman that motivated the wizard. Trust Grim to think that her nearly bare form
and drugged helplessness might be a ruse.
Letting him handle it for the moment, Jalhar opened the door to the guestroom without comment. Grim followed him as he drew down the
covers of the bed and prepared the room. By the time he had finished starting the fire, Grim had already settled the woman and nestled her
up to her chin in blankets.
Grim quirked a smile at his surprised look. “Just because I don’t trust her doesn’t mean I can’t be decent.”
“Right.” He shook his head and left them without another word. He would have sworn that Grim had forgotten the meaning of that word long
ago—at least when it came to women—but now was not the time to look such a gift horse in the mouth. He went to his bedchamber to
change out of his filthy clothes; one did not go to see a king stinking of sweat and blood, especially when he was likely to throw you to the
mercy of his healers.
A quick bath and the wave of artificial energy from the bitter drug revived him enough to face the endless questions. Jalhar chose a simple
jerkin and hose, careful not place even a dagger at his belt. Normally he would feel undressed without a weapon, but with the chance of his
visions coming unexpectedly swift, he was not going to take the risk of being armed.
As if by their own volition, his eyes were drawn to the laughing pictures of the lost so carefully mounted on his wall. Rhiannon had glimpsed
his memories of them through the bond of the rings. She had presented him with oils a few weeks later saying that if he had to remember
the horror, he must also keep the joy in his mind as well. Now even these portraits were painful.
Queen Rhiannon had died defending her son and people from an onslaught of the Unclean. Her portrait had joined the rest of his dead on
the wall. He was careful to hide the picture from Grimaryl though; it was still a ragged wound in them both but Jalhar had only lost a friend,
not a wife. Besides, he was far more used to loss; it had ripped his soul to pieces long ago. Grimaryl’s pain was shockingly new by
comparison.
He touched a gentle finger to his twin sister’s frame and tried to remember what real peace felt like. It was a fruitless task, he was going to
relive the dragon flight tonight and the dead would rise to torment him once more.
At least he could not remember the full attack, he had been one of the dragonlings first victims. An untold age had passed before he
regained consciousness broken and battered in an empty field. A few scattered bodies and the growing ache in his body warned him that
the dragons had not been some nightmarish hallucination. He had tried to run home but had only managed a shuffling stagger on his
broken legs. The ghoulish trip felt as if it had taken years or maybe forever. In some ways he was still trying to run to his family.
Long before he had reached their small inn, the child in him was dead and he knew there was no hope. There were no longer bodies on
the ground, just small, shredded scraps left over from the frenzied feeding. Only in his nightmares could he remember finally reaching
home. The rest of his time in the village was a haze of agony as his wounds festered and drew him deeply into shambling fever dreams.
Jalhar couldn’t remember anything beyond the flames and darkness burning through his beautiful sisters’ hair. It would dance before his
eyes, twisting in the heat. Leira’s hair had been a wondrous red-gold and Marith, his twin, had a thickly curling mane of polished ebony. It
burned through his mind even now, blackening to char before his eyes.
Jalhar blinked and forced his mind to other things. He would allow himself to remember when he took the ring off and could be private with
his grief. All of the ring bearers had seen more than their share of horrors. Each did their best to keep those memories deeply buried, away
from the public mind the ring allowed them all to share. He had a feeling if they should all succumb to their grief, they would go as mad with
it as he was.
Striding quickly out of his quarters with a venomous curse, Jalhar tried to focus on his report instead of the edges of flame already pulling at
his vision.