A peal of thunder rolled across the sky. Valcor’s gaze flashed toward the tent entrance as he rolled up the letter and thrust it back into his vest. “There is much to explain, and time is short.” He held his hand over his vest pocket. “Merlin told Morgan she needs a hostiam viventem, a living sacrifice, in order to shed her ghostly cowl. That sacrifice has to be a legal, female relative of the king. Morgan had her evil eye on Guinevere, but not even the Watchers’ arts could persuade Arthur to give up his wife. So, it seems that she changed her plan, hoping Devin could take the throne during the rebellion.”
“But how would that further her cause?” Jared asked. “Devin has no wife and no female relatives that I know of.”
“Who would have him?” Irene sliced her hand across her throat. “I would kill myself before I let that piece of filth touch me!”
Valcor smirked. “Even dead, you might still be a target, Irene. Merlin wrote that a deceased woman can be a hostiam providing, of course, the body has not been dead for very long. But Devin would have no need to hunt for corpses. If he had succeeded in usurping the throne, he would have had his choice of women. Morgan would have entered his wife and become queen, and Devin would have the power to rule the world. I believe Devin would have put up with a witch of a wife for a prize like that.”
A distant howl drifted into the tent. Valcor pushed the entrance flap to the side and leaned out for a moment, then ducked back in. “So Devin and Morgan had an understanding. She would provide him with power, with influence in high places, and he, in turn, would use that power to become king, get married, then provide Morgan with a woman to possess. But since his rebellion has failed, Morgan might not wait for him to try again.”
Irene raised a finger to her chest. “But if any legal female relative can serve as host, then I really would be a candidate, would I not, since I am an adopted daughter?”
Valcor nodded. “You would be, yes.”
“Then why does Devin seek to kill me?”
“Because,” Valcor replied, stroking his chin, “he has merely identified you as a former dragon. He hasn’t yet made the connection that you are also in the royal line. So you have peril either way. If you are a dragon, Devin wants you dead. If you are an heir, Morgan would prefer to take your body alive, yet in such a way that you would be better off dead. I believe, however, that Devin’s bloodlust will override his desire to search for Morgan’s hostiam, so he will likely try to kill you until the day he dies.”
“If he ever dies,” Irene added.
Jared lifted his brow. “If? Why do you say if?”
“Haven’t you noticed his new youthfulness?” Irene brushed her finger across her calf. “He shows no sign of the leg wound I gave him when I fought with him. If Morgan’s evil handiwork has given him healing power, then who knows how long he might live?”
“So,” Valcor said, “the presence of a seemingly deathless stalker means that we must go into hiding permanently. The farther apart we live and the less we communicate with each other, the more difficult it will be for Devin and Morgan to find us all.”
Valcor began to rise, but Irene pulled on his sleeve. “Wait. I have something for you.” She opened her palm. Two spherical red stones rolled to the edge of her hand, looking like a pair of polished cranberries at the peak of harvest. “When you gave me Makaidos’s rubellite, it reminded me of its meaning to the dragon race, so I went back to Bald Top to search for other rubellites. I assumed they fell to the ground when we were transformed, so I thought they might still be up there.”
Irene seesawed her hand, letting the gems roll from side to side. “I found two in the grass, the lighter of these gems and another one I put away in a safe place.” She plucked the darker of the two stones from her palm and gave it to Valcor. “Dear brother, this is our father’s, the one you gave to me, and I ask you, as his son, to take it back.” She handed the other stone to Jared. “Always remember what we once were. If you ever procreate, pass yours along to your progeny at the appropriate time.”
Closing his fingers around his rubellite, Jared nodded. “I will. You can count on it.”
Valcor’s lips parted as if to speak, but, as his face reddened, he just lowered his head.
Irene’s blue eyes sparkled. “As these gems reflect the vitality of your mortal essence, may you always reflect the nobility of our race through your courage, your integrity, and your sacrifice.”
Valcor stood and bowed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He rolled a tear onto his finger and held it out for Jared and Irene to see. “How rare were the tears of a dragon. We once lived in Paradise, and because of the corruption of an angel disguised as a dragon, all the world was cast into darkness. Now, as humans, we shed many tears for what was lost, for what might have been, and for the end of friendships. Good-bye, my true friends.” He bowed again and hurried from the tent.
Jared held the tent flap open for Irene. “We had better go, as well.”
She raised a finger. “We must wait for his signal that all is clear.”
Jared paused, listening so intently he could hear a faint sizzle from the candle’s wick. Another howl pierced the night. He wet his fingers and snuffed the flame. “That is a good enough signal for me.” He and Irene shuffled from the tent and folded it with the blanket.
After tucking the bundle under his arm, Jared inhaled deeply. “It is a new world, Hartanna, if I may call you that one last time. We will now be alone and friendless, perhaps for many years.”
“Before I go into hiding,” Irene said, “I must tell my mother what has happened. She will surely be Devin’s prime target.”
Irene turned to leave, but Jared grabbed her hand. “I have one regret,” he said softly.
She tilted her head. “Regret? What regret?”
He sighed and caressed her fingers with his thumb. “That I was never able to become Hartanna’s mate.”
As Irene gazed into his eyes, her tears glistened in the dim light. “You would have made a magnificent king, Clefspeare.”
He kissed her hand tenderly. “May the Maker grant you safe passage.” He bowed and marched quickly into the forest.
In the gloom of night, Elam sat in front of the hut, watching the undulating glow of firelight as it danced inside the open window. Cautious voices from within drifted to his ears.
“Do not tell me where you are going, Irene. It is better that I do not know.”
“But you are my mother. How will I ever find you again?”
“Have faith. The Maker will see to our reunion. . someday.”
“At least choose a new name and tell me what it is. Thigocia will not serve you as a proper name in this land.”
Elam scooted closer to the window.
“At first I chose Emzara, because, like Noah’s wife, I am the mother of all who remain of my kind, but I decided it was too uncommon and obvious. Devin would guess it easily. So, I have chosen to answer to the name of Hannah.”
“Hannah is a fine name. It is easy to remember and not conspicuous at all.”
“You should go now, precious daughter. The longer you stay in this country, the more danger you will be in.”
Elam rose to his feet, picked up his knapsack, and tiptoed to the edge of the surrounding forest. Leaning against the wide trunk of a tree, he slid back down to his seat and watched Irene leave the tiny hut. She and Hannah embraced, then, after holding her mother’s hand for a moment, Irene strode into the shadows and disappeared.
Elam pulled the Ovulum from his bag and whispered, “Fiat lux.” A faint glow emanated from the glass. He smiled and spoke softly to it. “Thigocia seems to be safe for now, so I guess I’ll just sleep here until she decides to go somewhere else.”
The orb pulsed but gave no reply.
Giving the smooth surface a gentle rub, Elam continued. “Sometimes I wish you’d talk to me more. I want to do a good job watching over Thigocia, but I feel like I’m just guessing what I’m supposed to do.”
The Ovulum’s glow brightened, and its pulsing frequency increased, but it stayed quiet.