He began searching quickly among the calcified figures and paused before one.

It was tall for a dwarf. Though mineral crust obscured details of its form, it held something long and narrow against its chest in a double grip. The object appeared to reach all the way to the cave floor, unless decades and centuries of buildup had dripped down to make it look so.

"Forgive me," Deep-Root whispered as he drew one heavy dagger. "I beg of you, grant me absolution for this sacrilege."

With a single, quickened breath, he struck the first blow.

He stabbed and hacked until Wynn saw a glint of tarnished and mottled steel. Then the sound of running boots echoed among the caves. Deep-Root dropped the dagger and grabbed the top of the object with both hands. Calcified stone fractured and broke as he wrenched it from the figure's grip.

Wynn thought she saw the petrified remains of dwarven arm bones as the figure's hands broke off, still bonded to the object. She wanted to cringe at the sight of them.

The footfalls grew loud and near.

Deep-Root whirled, and all he could do was raise the object he held. A blade cracked against it.

Pieces of calcified stone exploded around the impact as he saw another stonewalker with a maddened expression before him. Chips shot into his face, and even Wynn flinched at their patter. Deep-Root groped at his belt for his other dagger. The other stonewalker's hand closed into a ma.s.sive fist, and he struck low.

Wynn felt the pain as if her own abdomen had been hit. Breath rushed from Deep-Root as he toppled back against the calcified figure.

"Your bones will not rest here!" the other stonewalker snarled. "We will leave you to rot with those outside who try to come for us."

His features glistened with a feverish sweat and were so twisted that Wynn couldn't tell if he was the same elder from before. Then she saw his blade coming again.

Deep-Root tried to block. The stonewalker's blade slipped off the object Deep-Root held up and tore down the left side of his scaled armor. Wynn heard steel-tipped scales screech under its pa.s.sing.

Deep-Root cried out as he jerked his last dagger free. He slammed the long, crusted object into his attacker's face as he raised his blade. The stonewalker's head jerked in another spatter of calcified stone. Deep-Root swung downward, and his blade sank point first into the neck of the stonewalker's armor.

There was a wet, grating sound, like steel across stone-or bone-but the stonewalker didn't fall. He reeled back, his mouth gaping as he choked. Blood began seeping between his teeth and over his lower lip.

Wynn heard Deep-Root's dagger clatter on stone as he looked in horror at what he'd done. More footfalls and shouts echoed through the caves, growing louder and closer. Deep-Root raced across the cave and into a wall.

There had been no choice in what he'd done, and Wynn knew this. But in the darkness of stone, her own shame began to grow. She realized what he was about to do.

Deep-Root leaped out of stone into the dragon's deep cave. Mute whimpers escaped his mouth with each sobbing breath.

Wynn heard the echoes of pursuit rolling in from the tunnels above this place. When Deep-Root raised his sagging head, for a moment all she saw was a watery blur through his eyes, until he dragged the back of his hand across his face.

The dragon stood waiting in the middle of the viscous pool. It hung its head, its breath weak, but it gave Deep-Root not a moment's rest.

Strike below my last rib, upward into my chest, as if toward a heart. But only when I have begun my last flame and swallowed it down. Only then . . . only upon my command.

Deep-Root raised the stone-covered object in his hand.

So much of its mineral crust had broken away that Wynn saw parts of a long, thick blade. He grabbed the lumpy hilt, breaking away the remains of calcified fingers. With one hesitant glance up the sloping pa.s.sage, he gripped the cleared hilt and slammed the crusted blade against the cave's wall. He beat it again and again until the sword's blade was nearly clear.

Every ringing blow sharpened Wynn's panic. It would be heard everywhere in these tunnels.

A shout erupted just before a splash.

Deep-Root turned wildly. Another of his brethren splashed toward him through the pool, and then came a slap upon stone that hummed through his bones. Up the sloping tunnel, another stonewalker had her hand firmly against the tunnel's rough wall. The sound of a blunt impact and rapid splashing pulled Deep-Root's attention the other way.

The dragon's head slammed against the wall as it staggered sideways in the pool. A stonewalker whipped an iron staff back for another strike.

Deep-Root splashed toward the dragon, but the beast suddenly righted itself.

Its head whipped around, its maw widening, and then it dipped its head and its mouth snapped shut with a crack. Half of its a.s.sailant vanished amid torn bowels. Spatters of blood rained down on Deep-Root.

Wynn suddenly shrieked, though it was Deep-Root's voice that cut loose. He arched away from a deep pain in his back so sharp that everything dimmed before Wynn.

When her sight cleared, she saw that he'd turned, knocking aside someone's arm. Yet the pain only increased as he chopped down with the sword. The blade cleaved through a young stonewalker's skull, and Wynn saw the dwarf's face split open.

Deep-Root groped at his lower back, and Wynn felt the protruding hilt that he grabbed.

Now . . . before our deaths are wasted.

Deep-Root instantly released his hold on the blade in his back and turned.

The dragon lifted its head toward the cave ceiling. Amid a nerve-tearing clack of its jaws, flickers of fire rose between its teeth. Wynn thought she heard Deep-Root whispering something, over and over, but she was lost within herself.

If she'd been there, she would've done anything to help him. If nothing else, she would've thrown herself in front of any adversary to give him even one more moment to succeed. Inside of him, inside of this memory, she couldn't help but wonder . . .

Would she be trapped here to end along with him?

Deep-Root rushed in, placing the sword's point against the dragon's side, still whispering frantically.

Remember him . . . his words . . . our end, my children.

Before Wynn fathomed those last leaf-wing whispers she heard, Deep-Root threw his bulk against the sword.

A world of fire erupted, and then there was only whiteness. There was no one left to hear the silence in place of those gale whispers.

Wynn cried out as the memory ended. Remnants of the forgotten events washed though her with heat that couldn't be real.

Deep-Root and the dragon had sacrificed themselves, along with a seatt gone mad, to stop enemy forces from gaining access to the northern lands.

A mult.i.tongued voice rose in Wynn's mind.

Remember!

That word hung alone in the whiteness, which grayed and grew darker.

A flicker like a flame rose-but not in the dark. It reflected on twin obsidian orbs so large they blocked out everything else. Those twin eyes watched Wynn, as the dancing shimmers of orange-red within them spread everywhere in the dark . . . spread like memories in Wynn's mind. As the last of Deep-Root's images faded, a fresh ache a.s.saulted her. It was like something fiercely pulling at her thoughts, and she felt her own memories rising.

The world went black again for an instant. Then she saw herself moving backward in time, each memory coming more rapidly than the last. First was a clear image and the sensation of the pump cart as it moved, but it was moving backward. Every memory flowed in reverse to another as she relived . . .

. . . driving the wagon down the Slip-Tooth Pa.s.s . . .

. . . the attack of the Fay in the Lhoin'na great forest . . .

. . . traveling with Chane, Shade, and Ore-Locks on the ship as they journeyed toward Drist . . .

. . . fighting the wraith in the underworld of Dhredze Seatt . . .

. . . being shunned by her peers in the guild at Calm Seatt . . .

. . . Chane crouching on the ground near a stable, when he first handed her the scroll, lonely hope in his eyes . . .

. . . Shade diving from a dark street to protect her from the wraith . . .

. . . the journey from the Farlands to her homeland with Magiere, Leesil, and Chap . . .

And the images came even more rapidly.

. . . Sgile lying dead under a willow tree . . .

. . . Chap helping her remove ancient texts from the ice-bound castle's library . . .

. . . battling Welstiel's feral vampires in that castle . . .

. . . jumping from a burning elven ship into a lifeboat with Osha . . .

. . . facing Most Aged Father before the council of the an'Cran . . .

. . . sobbing with her head on Chane's b.l.o.o.d.y chest after Magiere cut off his head...

. . . standing beside Leesil as he uncovered the remains of the five races sacrificed for Magiere's birth . . .

. . . drinking mint tea with Chane, before she knew he was an undead, as they pored over historical parchments in peace and quiet at the guild annex in Bela . . .

Memories rushed back and back, until she stood in the central council hall of Bela. Leesil, Magiere, and Chap came walking down the broad pa.s.sage. She looked down at Chap and then smiled up at Leesil, seeing his amber eyes for the very first time.

"Stop!" Wynn cried out.

Her shoulder suddenly ached, but her life continued to race by, as if it were only these tiny blinks of time.

Memories suddenly halted, leaving her in darkness, but the pain in her shoulder sharpened. Behind a leaf-wing's cacophony, broken words echoed over and over.

-Wynn . . . come back.... Wynn . . . wake up- Wynn opened her eyes to Shade standing above her. Shade's jaws were clamped on her shoulder, biting through the cloak, as the dog pulled and shook her.

"Don't," Wynn moaned, reaching up.

But lying there on the tunnel floor, the unfamiliar presence remained inside her head. The sensation was nothing like the feel of sharing memories with Shade, or Chap's multilingual voice in her head. It was harsh and unbreakable, and Wynn clamped her eyes shut again.

It was so deep inside her that she could feel emotions that weren't her own. Hope and suspicion, spite and hesitation, all crawled about inside her, as if that presence was searching for something.

Wynn cracked open her eyes.

She looked up into twin obsidian orbs in a reptilian head that filled her view. The dragon stared down at her, unblinking, its presence so deep inside her that she began to sense something of it in turn.

It was a descendant of the one who'd come for Deep-Root. It had been waiting here for so long . . . for something. That other, greater dragon and that forgotten and fallen stonewalker raised one question in Wynn's mind.

Where was Ore-Locks?

A pounding sound overlayed with the grating of ma.s.sive claws finally broke through her haze. She lifted her head at the vibrations in the tunnel floor beneath her back.

Another dragon, not quite as large as the first, crawled down the tunnel from the direction of the breach into the Chamber of the Fallen. Shade released her grip on Wynn's shoulder and turned to snarl at it.

The second dragon halted, fixing on Shade.

Wynn was frozen in confusion. A soft sound of lighter footsteps echoed from down the tunnel into the dark. When she looked, a light came bobbing up out of the dark behind the first dragon.

Chane ran into view, and Wynn pushed herself up to sit. He had his sword in one hand, and his eyes sparked without color in the light of his crystal. His features were twisted with panic and blind rage, like that night back in First Glade.

The first dragon snaked its head back toward him, and Chane raised his blade.

"No!" Wynn shouted.

Chane saw Wynn on the tunnel floor with the reptile's ma.s.sive head hovering over her. The sight magnified his fear until even the beast within him struggled to rouse from under the violet concoction that kept him awake. He raised the sword, ready to strike once and slip past to Wynn.

Shade snarled and whirled the other way.

But then Chane saw the second winged monster up the tunnel, and his self-control drained away completely. He lunged as the first one turned its head his way. Wynn cried out, but he only heard her panic and not her words. As he swung, the nearer creature drew its head aside, opening its maw with a hiss. Not even the threat of all-consuming fire cut through Chane's madness to get to Wynn.

"Chane, stop it!"

He heard Wynn's call at the edge of his awareness, distant and echoing, like something tapping him awake from dormancy.

"He's not what you think," she shouted, her voice echoing in the tunnel.

Chane faltered before he swung. Those words had not been for him-but for whom?

The question awakened reason, and Chane stopped no more than a sword's reach from the creature's jaws. He smelled its breath, hot and stinking like something akin to smoke and oil. The stench cleared his thoughts a little more.

Rushing in blindly would not save Wynn. Somehow, he knew this.

Chane fought for reason, struggling to swallow down the hunger and rage and the half-awakened beast inside him. The reptile's maw slowly closed, but it did not turn from him. He kept his sword c.o.c.ked upward as he looked at Wynn.

"Did you find it?" she called to him, her voice desperate.

It? What did she mean?

Wynn glanced once down the tunnel, beyond him. She appeared less afraid of those creatures penning her in than of something else.

Chane remembered the orb.

"Where is Ore-Locks?" she asked in alarm. "Where's the wraith?"

Chane's clarity sharpened, and he cowed the stirring beast inside him.