The sea broke endlessly upon an unseen coastline. Cara woke to the gentle washing of its waves in a drawn out stupor. Her head rang, and her ears felt as they were bleeding. She slowly raised an arm to the side of her head, her shoulder and elbow popping with every motion. She felt warm and sticky blood on her fingers. She brushed her other hand under her nose. It was bleeding too. She sat upright, painful and stiff.

About her were the endless grey sands of the Evershore, and above her was the pale sky that glowed without a sun. She was clothed only by the air around her. She shivered for a moment, then summoned a blanket of warmth. A shade danced about her, the half seen trace of a body. She could scarcely see any features on the figure, but now and then she’d glimpse white fabric blowing in an unfelt wind. She looked upward, expecting to see the black sun. There it was, looming and dark, a wound in the skin of existence. The disc of white light beamed bright against the colorless sky. The disc had grown large since last she saw it. Now it was spread wide around the black sun, and cut through its center. Traces of other colors could be seen at its core, where it formed a hazy orange horizon around the edge of the dark star.

Cara closed her eyes and laid back down. She wished for wind, strong wind, strong enough to bury herself under the sand where she could pass away from the world for all time. The memory of her father’s death was burned in her mind. Every moment, waking or not, she saw it etched on the inside of her eyelids, and in the eye of her mind she saw Ror holding Malgond aloft, and watched helplessly as he pulled a river of lightning from the sky and flung it down with his hammer. The lightning plunged deep underground and ignited the earth beneath them, and her castle crumbled to dust while Obrus was riven to pieces and flung into the air. The sound of a great bell, or perhaps a horn, rang loud from far beneath her, followed by the laughter of children. Then a vast beast like none she’d seen rose from beneath the mountain’s ruin. It rose and took on a woman’s form, with a serpent’s face and long hair, and the feet of a great bird. The she-creature spread wings of starfire over the land. Her shadow was blinding light, and from her mouth and wingtips came lightning and fire, and the heat of her fury split the sky asunder.

This was her dream while she wandered through emptiness. Now it was receding as if into mist, replaced by the dark star and its growing white ring. The empty light of the pale sky seemed to dim. As the light dimmed the shade grew more visible. It was her, the eyeless woman. She then saw Hale and Dennel. Istan showed as well, clinging to a hysterical Gislain. Ser Walsh was carrying her mother over his shoulders. His head was bleeding from a sickening wound, and his knees quaked as he walked. Keelie walked beside him. She was weeping and trembling franticly. Blood drenched her gown. Cara closed her eyes and wished for wind, but instead she heard the Voice.

WALK WITH ME, it shouted.

Cara heard the ringing of the bell beneath the world. The black sun grew swollen and she felt the sand around her rising. She looked about and saw with sudden dread that the Black Worm had come. It was coiling around her as it did Othomo, and as it did she felt her body being burned from the inside. She opened her mouth to scream, but it had been sewn shut, grown over by pale flesh not her own. She looked down in horror as her hands turned into translucent, fingerless stumps. Her whole body was being rewritten, and a mute terror was indelled in what remained of her mind. She found herself slithering like a faceless eel through an ocean of dust and slime. All about her were blank beings of thoughtless animation, each identical to the other, identical to her. Downward and upward she looked into eternity. As above, so below; as without, so within. All life had been purged, and in its place was undeath. Empty continuance had taken hold as the echoes of the living wandered aimlessly through a watery paste of nutrient rich void.

The memory of hearing returned with the ringing of the bell. It rang and rang, over and over, louder and louder, until she remembered pain and feared her skull would shatter as her father’s had. Louder it rang, until with each ring there was a blast of power that shook the air. Each blast brightened the sunless sky, shrinking the dark star and with it the Black Worm until both were gone. Then the bell split the Evershore into pieces, and the sky was cracked by a web of dark lines. Cara reached up to see if the lines were real, then felt rain pelting her face.

“Cara!” Istan was shouting.

She sat upright on the cobbled road. She thought to see her father’s contorted remains, but instead she was looking at what was left of the Tall Hill. The walls and towers were gone, and the keep, courtyard, stable and granaries were all burning. Her horse lay on her side. She’d been seared by the flames and a pack of dogs were gnawing on her charred flesh.

“Your Highness!” Dennel came rushing to her. He dropped to his knees and took her hand in his. “Cara, you live.” Tears were streaming from his eyes, or perhaps it was just rain.

She saw Hale, standing like a witless fool and muttering to himself. Ser Walsh was carrying her mother. His knees quaked, and then buckled. He fell on the ground and began twitching rapidly. Keelie was there, covered in blood. She dropped to Ser Walsh’s side and pushed on his shoulder, as if she were trying to wake him from sleep. The poor girl then went into a fit of screaming. Cara burst into tears as her memory returned. Keelie had been shot by an arrow. She fell into her sister’s arms and perished before she knew what happened. The blood on Keelie’s gown was her own, and the arrow had come from one of their own men. A few of them had risen from the rubble of the walls and were shooting madly at anything that moved.

Cara stood and hobbled over to Kylie. She tried to calm her, but she kept screaming for Ser Walsh to call off the archers. Cara looked to the old knight. The rain dropping onto his head had turned deep red. His old body lay still, and the look on his face was one of sorrow. Weeping, Cara hoisted Keelie onto her feet and screamed from the pain in her ankle. The sound of her own voice throbbed dully in her ears. When Dennel had taken Keelie from her she pressed her hands to the side of her head, then looked at her palms. The rain was washing blood away. She rubbed under her nose and found blood there as well. Hinges creak, she thought. The door had been flung open this time. The Soulmind was not treating her like a lady.

Her mother was laying still on the ground. Cara commanded a pair of guards to lift her and fetch her an oiled cloak, along with oiled cloaks for everyone else. She then limped over to Hale and struck him hard on the face. “WAKE UP!” she screamed.

He glared at her angrily, so she slapped him again. Her palm burned, but she didn’t care. She would slap him again and again until he started behaving like a man. “Stop standing there like an idiot and do something!” she howled.

“You're our future queen!” he shouted back.

Cara’s eyes lit brighter than any lightning. She balled up her fist and buried it deep into Hale’s belly. He groaned and dropped to his knees. She then heard a voice calling her name and the clopping of hooves on wet ground. She saw Howl riding to her from Cavanal. The city too was in ruins. The dwarves were running wild through its streets, slaying as they went. Howl had a bloody bandage over one eye and his armor was rent to pieces.

“Cara,” he said breathlessly, “the city is lost. The dwarves are killing every man I send to them. They’re drunk with battlelust. Some madness has struck them. I have to get you and your family to safety. Ser Dennel!”

Cara was looking past Howl now to a lone figure that stood at the edge of the Tall Hill. She approached him cautiously, heedless of the tumult around her. It was a dwarf, in dark armor that glowed like a field of stars. His helm had the horns of a ram, and he leaned wearily on a large warhammer.

She stood there, for how long she couldn’t tell. A man in a blood soaked gambeson put a cloak over her. Istan tugged at her gown. The blind woman stood on the edge of sight and pointed toward Eruhal. All the while Cara looked at Ror, wondering what could have possibly driven him to cause such tragedy. Strangely, she felt no anger towards him then. There was something his posture that filled her with pity.

“He let us live,” she heard Dennel say from behind. Ror tilted his head as if he heard as well, but he didn’t turn. Cara looked back to Dennel. Her memory was flooding back; to Ror ordering his men to kill the soldiers and spare the royal family and their guard. Then the dwarves, drunk with the joy of battle, rained down upon Cavanal proper and laid the city to waste. She had turned to Hale and asked him what they were to do. “You’re the future queen,” he said mockingly, “you tell me.”

That’s when Howl had ridden to her the first time. She’d been ready to slap Hale then, but Howl told her the dwarves had left the southern road clear. Howl had sent what men were left to fight the dwarves while their smallfolk and the refugees from Corn Hill made their escape. All that was left now was for her and her household to flee. That’s when Alon spoke to her, beckoning her to Castle Gwynd. She saw the golden spires of the castle in her mind, but she could not fathom retreating to the north while her people fled to the south. Their vassals were to the south; the Ebonfields, the Brays, the Blackwicks. She nodded, and turned to Dennel, and was about to give the order to follow Howl. Then she was pulled from the waking world.

The blind woman stood like a tower in the storm, her arm outstretched towards Eruhal. Walk with me, said the Voice, this time gently, pleadingly. The blind woman held out her hands and dropped to her knees, then clasped her hands together and pressed them to her chin. Cara was terrified, no matter which choice she made. Then she remembered the gnolls. They had shown no love for humankind, and would likely attack the refugees if they encroached on the land they claimed. Did the Voice know? she wondered, with a vague sense that all these things had happened before. She looked Dennel in the eye. “We're going to Eruhal. Howl, round up as many people as you can and bid them go north. We will seek refuge with King Derrion.”

“Cara...”

She flashed him a look that almost knocked him off his horse and he rode down the hill, calling for the people to turn north in the name of Salimod’s Heir.

She turned to Dennel again, and bid him secure clothing, food, and any other provisions they could for the journey. Then she turned to Hale. Slowly she walked to him, and dropped to her knees in front of him so he would be taller than her.

“I’m sorry I struck you,” she said. “I love you Hale, you know that.”

His lip quivered. “They killed father. Cara, they killed father.”

She reached forward to embrace him, but he stood and ran towards Ror, screaming madly. He picked a sword off the ground and swung at the dwarf with all his strength, and the sword bounced harmlessly off Ror’s helm. His head twitched at the blow, but when he saw it was Hale he looked down at his feet, standing still while Hale swung at him in vain.

Dennel came out and wrestled Hale to the ground. The sun peaked fearfully through the wall of black clouds, and there was no more rain. Ror took hold of a horn on his belt, blew into it, then descended the Tall Hill to Cavanal and gathered his men. Cara leaned forward and retched, then rose and went to Hale.

“Hale,” she said, quiet but stern, “our people need us right now. They need to look to our ruined castle and see that we are still standing. They awoke in the night to blood and death and nothing in the world is as it should be, and so we need to be their strength. Whatever notions father had about succession died with him, as far as I’m concerned. What our people need comes first. Now, pull yourself together, and be their king.”

Hale stopped struggling against Dennel and the weary old knight let him go. He looked from Cara, to Dennel, and across the hill to Cavanal and the departing dwarven army. He looked as if he were about to have another outburst, but he took a deep breath, stood tall and nodded. He bid a guard to fetch him a hauberk of rings and a pair of breeches, along with boots and a cloak. He donned the clothes under what was left of the stable and then called the people to him.

It was close to ten o’clock by the time all that remained of Cavanal had been gathered. The call was sent by way of mouth down the long line of people fleeing south, until two thirds of them had turned back. There were far too few for Cara’s liking, and far too many corpses in the city and castle yard. Cara was beginning to feel numb. She knew she would grieve bitterly, for her father and for Keelie as well, but not until her people were safe.

Hale stammered his way through a speech. Dennel and Howl lent their support, and even poor little Istan chimed in. Her mother had been revived at some point, she knew not when, but all she did was stare and mutter to herself. Betha dressed her in clothes for the road, doing her best to brush her hair and make her look a queen. Cara admired the handmaid for how well she did hur duty amidst the shock of the night.

Cara looked at the faces of the people when the speech had ended. They looked grievously frightened. Hales halting words seemed to fall flat on the earth in front of them. Cara went to Hale’s side. “Sing to them,” she whispered in his ear. He looked at her, unable to comprehend what she was suggesting. “Do it,” she said, “song is your gift. Sing to the people, Hale.” He nodded, then swallowed and lifted his head. He sang the song he’d sung when her father feasted his Lords while Halfur and Yemi were with them.

“Along the furrows and rows of corn, where shadows weep in the morn, a lonely maid plants seeds from afar, where whispers and gravestones are. While grey clouds cover a painted world, and enemy flags unfurl, memories watch from the edge of sight, for the rebirth of the light...”

The people at last seemed to take heart as Hale’s deep voice sang the sad song. She remembered the old days when she and Hale were each other’s closest companions. She had so admired him then. As a young boy he seemed strong and brave, and his voice was high and sweet. Since then he had grown tall and broad, but he was still a boy. His low voice quaked, and of all the people who were woken in the night by friends turned foe, Hale was the most lost. She would hold him up, for as long as she could, at least until the people could find the peace they would need to lay their sorrow to rest. Then, and no sooner, she and Dennel would declare who her father wanted to succeed him.

When his song was done, Hale put on a true bard’s act and directed the remaining knights to patrol the lands around Cavanal Hill while the people took time to gather supplies for the trek to Eruhal. Dennel saw to the actual work, sending swift riders ahead to scout the north-western roads and deliver word of their plight to King Derrion, and he took part in building a great pyre for their dead. Salimod was put on a bier and laid to rest by his sires in the barrow on the west slope of the hill.

Cara would have helped with all these things, but Howl insisted she have a physician tend to her ankle. It was swollen and purple, and once she was reminded of it the pain became almost unbearable. An old apothecary from Corn Hill managed to make a mash that greatly lessened the swelling. He offered her a tincture to numb the pain, which she refused, wanting to be fully aware on the journey to Castle Gwynd.

“The pain will likely distract you as much as the potion, Your Highness,” the man said.

“Then it makes no difference, and I’d rather our people see their princess suffering with them. Unless you’ve enough for all…”

She relented to being mounted for the duration of the exodus, but insisted on Kylie being cared for and relieved of her duties as handmaid.

“Begging your pardons, Your Grace,” the girl said, “but you’ve lost more than I have. I’ll be left with nought but my grief if I’m not to serve Your Grace. And I couldn’t bear to see another maid handle poor Keelie’s chores. Perhaps another maid can be found to look after poor Princess Gislain, while I continue tending to you?”

Cara gave in, then had a small and private burial for Keelie, with only her, Kylie and Gislain.

“Keelie spoke true,” Cara said over her friend’s burial mound, “even when she ought not. A bright and honest flame has gone dark. May our memories of her continue to brighten our hearts.”

Gislain was a mess of dry sobs and hollow stares. Istan did his best to hold back his tears, and was ever close to Dennel or Howl, always looking for some way he could help. It wasn’t long before Hale went to their mother. Betha had her well in hand, and in her most reverent tone shooed her new king away. When it came time for their people to take to the road, it was Dennel who gave the order to march. Cara looked at her wrecked castle before spurring her horse. He was a tough old Garron with feathered heels named Winter, weathered by years of hard labor. A splash of white over his heart was the only marking on his ink black coat.

Looking on the Tall Hill and the embers of Cavanal had little effect. Her heart had bled onto the cobbled eastern rode and was now becoming a scab. Only when she looked past her home to the brooding hulk of Mount Obrus did she feel a twinge of sadness. She preferred it to the numbness that was setting in, so she looked for a long moment at the Brow, and down it’s steep, cascading slopes that disappeared behind the Coldwood and the Titan’s Arm. A memory took shape in her mind of the first time she saw Malgond, the Black Horned Gate. It frightened her then, and it frightened her now. There were answers behind that blood-stained wall, answers she wondered if she would ever find.

She turned her gaze slowly north, then kicked Winter into a trot. The horse’s gate was steady, if jarring. Her ankle throbbed, her head was pounding, and her heart felt like a piece of cold iron. Her eyes drifted upward. The clouds had thinned and littered the sky like the rubble of a broken tower. She imagined the black sun in the pale blue space between, then looked down and scanned the area for a white banner fluttering in the wind. All she saw were gently swaying trees and a pair of thrushes flying northwest towards the Dawnwood. She reached out in her mind to the Voice. All right, whoever you are; Alon, the Soulmind, the Black Worm or the child on the horse, I’m walking with you. The storm is here, please see us through.