It was a moonless midnight as a stranger galloped upon horseback to the West Gate of the White City. The guards stationed there had been alerted to her arrival. The gates had been left open in preparation for her coming, for her business was urgent and could not afford delay. Still, the Captain could not help but wonder what the nature of that business was, for there was a cold feeling leapt upon his hear the moment he spotted her form speeding up the path. Both horse and rider were dressed from head to toe in a black garb, hooded, so that the face of both beast and woman were totally obscured. He hailed her to a stop ere she reached the gate.

“Ho there!” he cried, raising his spear.

She pulled the reigns of her great steed, and the Captain could have sworn he heard the thing hiss. Now that he could get a better look at her, he noted that the only part of her left exposed was the left shoulder, upon which some sort of black mark appeared to have been painted on. He did not get a good look at it, for she pulled her cloak over it and leaned forward to fetch something from her satchel. She wordlessly drew out and presented a silver seal, which he recognized as the token of the King’s Favour.

In spite of the sinking feeling in his gut, the Captain was compelled to allow her passage. “Very well,” he said with a nod. He no sooner lowered his spear than the rider spurred her steed onward, leaving him and his fellows wondering.

“Did you hear the hoof beats of her horse?” asked one of the guards.

The Captain’s lips were pressed in a line, still looking off after the stranger. “No,” he said. He looked at his companion. “Why?”

The other guard looked a bit pale in the face. “That’s because there weren’t any, Captain.”

The stranger sped like a shadow through the darkened streets of New Münshir. Her destination was the Palace, and she seemed to know the fastest way to get there. Her passage was indeed all but soundless and did not much disturb the residents of the city. It was merely coincidence that children would wake crying in fright or the man of the house awake from the dead of sleep with a chill gripping his heart. Merely a coincidence, truly.

The soldiers guarding the way to the Palace had been quietly relieved of duty that night--perhaps under the impression others would replace them as usual. Yet, there were none to greet or hinder the stranger when she came to the Palace at last. She did not make for the doors. Instead, she led her steed around under the flying buttresses towards the royal gardens. Under the black shadows of what by morning would be pleasant shade trees, the forms of beast and rider all but vanished. There, she waited. He would come soon. He would be a brazen fool if he did not.

The royal gardens were vast, with symmetrical labyrinthian paths through shrubbery, flowering plants, and fruit trees. There were places of rest and recourse at regular stations throughout. It was a place of retreat, solitude, and recreation for the royal families. Any one of those stations would have been easily hidden from the public eye, yet he had insisted to meet here, nearer the palace at the great white marbled patio where stood statues of kings and queens of the past. In the still of night, the only sound was the burbling of fountains accenting the grounds. Not even a breeze stirred otherwise.

It would be almost an hour before he came. A tall man, dressed like a servant attending the grounds but creeping like a thing that did not belong, slunk into the courtyard from the Palace stair. She did not yet reveal herself. He went right out into the centre of the patio with a stride that expressed confidence, even impudence for one of his station. Perhaps he thought himself clever. Well, it certainly was not clever to have kept her waiting. To his credit, he suppressed a yelp of surprise when her beast nuzzled his shoulder. But he still leapt right out of his skin. Trying to regain some form of composure, the man swept the sweat from his brow and said softly, “Well?”

“Death,” her voice, or many voices, whispered.

The colour drained from his face and he stood as still as the stone statues, their only witnesses. “I beg your pardon?” he asked after a moment.

“Death to the Dracoens. Death to the forest,” she said, her voices seeming to echo all around him. “That is what you promised.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Of course. It shall be done. We are already preparing the soldiers.”

“You are weak,” she whispered. “The Snake Queen hears all. She knows your frailty.”

The man looked insulted, and straightened his shoulders a little. “I'm certain I do not know what you mean.”

“The Dracoens were warned to flee. In three days time. It must not be. None must escape Her wrath. They must die. All of them.”

“Ah, yes,” said the man, “That was an unfortunate oversight.”

“Oversight?” the stranger’s voices repeated harshly. “Death shall come. It is Her will. But if it comes not to the Dracoens, it will seek another. Your life, and those of your people, are in the balance just as well. If even one Dracoen is missed, the Snake Queen shall require a life for a life. One of your own shall be taken instead.”

“How could they possibly escape? The three days warning was merely to make things a little more sporting for the men. It would not be nearly enough for the Dracoens to prepare a migration. There are

simply too many of them.”

“We cannot take that chance.”

“Do not forget there is still your end of the bargain to uphold,” said the man.

“The niceties the Snake Queen bestows on you for your compliance are merely that.”

“We are allies in this,” said the man. “I am not her servant as you are.”

“You impudent—!” She raised her hand as if to strike him and he flinched back like a beaten animal. But then she thought better of it. “No, but you are right,” her voices whispered. “Allies need trust one another. The Prince shall die. The Dracoens shall die. Only then shall our alliance be complete. My message sent of the Snake Queen is merely this: you will strike before the light of tomorrow morning, and no later. The Dracoens must not escape. Not even one must survive.”

“The forest is gigantic,” said the man, “How can I ensure complete destruction if we are moved to strike by morning? Things like this take time!”

“To you we may credit the oversight. And from you we will exact what is due, if you fail to do as the Snake Queen desires.”

“That was not my fault! There are processes, procedures—Farris! I tell you it was—”

“I will say nothing further. My message has been delivered. I leave the rest to you.”

The Kiir’s light danced joyously through the canopy into the forest. But she was the only thing that was smiling. It had been decided by the Elders that they should leave the Forest for a time and find refuge with allies, at least until the matter with the Represent could be sorted out. Karaa had told his little daughters that he believed it would be, as soon as Prince Gideon returned. But that would be several weeks yet, and they could not risk injury should the Represent carry out his vile threat of forcing them out with soldiers. The people of the forest gathered provisions and prepared carts for carrying such things as blankets, clothes, food, eggs, and young babies for the journey. Their hearts were heavy. They were tired. Few had slept and those that did had not rested longer than they had to; there was too much to be done and too little time. Karaa worked with the Elders at the gathering place of the Tree Mother—pouring over maps and planning the journey.

“Karaa,” Torran said softly as he approached the gathering of Gem Elders.

Karaa had been bent over a map, looking quite discouraged, but when he heard his brother’s voice he straightened and looked at him. “Yes, Torran?”

“Shemsi and I have our carts prepared.”

“Good. Please help some of the others, if you can.”

Torran nodded, about to say something else, when suddenly his earfins perked up and he looked past Karaa.

Karaa stood and turned to look in that direction also. He had heard it too; coming from the east. It started as a rumbling in the distance that grew louder and louder with each passing moment. Karaa looked at his brother and the two exchanged confused expressions. People in the clearing stopped what they were doing and looked uncertainly in the direction of the noise. Suddenly there was a scream—a horrific scream which was soon joined by many others, shouts of fear and confusion! The ground shook! More screams!

“What’s happening?!” a woman cried out frantically. Karaa leapt to his feet and ran in the direction of the noise, when someone burst into the clearing, right into his arms! He was out of breath, pierced through the back with arrows.

“Calis!” Karaa exclaimed. His eyes fell to his brother’s injuries, the blood seeping down his robes. His voice was filled with horror and agony. “O, Guardians, protect us! No!”

Calis looked up at his brother desperately. “They’re here, Karaa, they’ve come,” he sobbed, his breath ragged and heavy, “They’re killing everyone on the Western Side... everyone!” His eyes lifted to meet Karaa’s, though his gaze was unsteady and he could not focus. “Get the people out, my brother,” he gasped, clutching Karaa’s robes desperately, “Please, K-Karaa, p-please get them out!” Then strength left him and he sank into his brother’s embrace.

Karaa’s chest heaved in anguish—his brother was dead! Dead! “No, NO!” he cried in despair, sinking to the ground with his brother. His body shook for his torment. He looked up in the direction his brother had come and could see them already, the Münshirling soldiers, and the fire that was blazing through the canopies.

“No, Calis!” the Gem Matron moaned, collapsing to her knees beside her fallen son. “Oh no! No! Calis! My son! My son!” her voice shuddered from within her, her body clenched with agony.

Sweating and with eyes filled with tears, Karaa gasped, “We’ve got to get them out—” He took his mother’s hand. “Mother, you must leave here.” But she would not. Karaa stood and gathered his people, urging them to keep together and run deeper into the forest. “Torran!” he cried, “Lead them out!”

Torran was in shock. He did not move. Karaa took him by the shoulders and said urgently, “Torran, take Mother. You must get the others out! I’ll lead some men to aide those on the Western Side, gather the rest of the people and lead them out!” Torran’s eyes lifted to meet Karaa’s, but it was as though he was blind and could not see even so. “The Western Side? Karaa, Shemsi is there with our—Oh, please no! No!! No! Shemsi! Our son! I must find them!” he screamed. Desperately he tried to get past Karaa—but his brother grabbed his shoulders firmly and shook him.

“Torran! I’ll look for them—you get the others out of here!! Go now! Run!”

Wild eyes met Karaa’s, but the boy stopped fighting him. “I can’t just leave her, Karaa!” he roared, baring his teeth. “I won’t! You cannot expect that of me!”

“I expect you to lead the others to safety, Torran! Look at them! They need you! Mother needs you! Lead them!”

“But Shemsi—”

“Torran it’s too late!”

Torran looked up at him as though struck in the face. Tears leapt to his eyes and he shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry—I’m so sorry—” Karaa gasped, tears streaming down his face. “There’s no more time—!”

Torran stumbled backward numbly. He grabbed his mother’s arm and pulled her to her feet. “Mother, please, come with me.”

“Those of you that will, we must hold off the enemy for as long as we can—the rest of you, follow my brother and flee the forest—head for the west! Seek out the—” Swffft! An arrow sped past his face and embedded with a thunk into the bark of a Tree Kin. Karaa looked back—then towards his frightened people frantically, “Run! Now! Fly!”

The clash that followed was great and terrible; the Dracoens were large and strong, but they had not weapons as the Münshirlings did. Even so, many of Münshir’s soldiers fell. The forest flashed in colours of red and blue as lightning met the fiery explosions—loud rumblings and death cries filled the air in a way that had never before been witnessed by the Forest!

“Represent, this is madness,” a Münshir captain said, “These creatures have done us no ill—they are peaceful. Our able-bodied men should be at sea to stave off the Vüls! What do you mean by this massacre?” A horror of dead and dying Dracoens lay strewn about the forest floor as the main body of soldiers moved on.

“That is not your concern, Captain Talek. What is your concern is obeying your royal superior. I will not be questioned,” Represent Ventus said. “Instruct your party to gather the spoils from this place. If you find a living Dracoen kill it.” As a second thought he added, “But no—not all of them... spare the young ones that are not too grievously injured. Those I desire to bring back to New Münshir.”

“But Sire—!” Captain Talek started, only to be cut off by what sounded like a tumultuous storm up ahead! Though the skies were still clear above, the sound of thunder was undeniable. Screams and shouts soon followed, but these were different from those that had come before.

“They must be fighting back,” The Represent mused. Was that even a smile that curled his lips? Indeed it was, the Represent made no effort to hide his pleasure at this new development. “Instruct your men even as I have ordered, Talek. Then to me; I wish to meet this foe for myself.”

Disgusted, Captain Talek left the Represent and organized the looting party. “Take the young ones that can be spared alive, and kill any other survivors,” he ordered. “You there, search those nests up in the treetops. Take care, the structures are burning and are likely to be unsteady, to say nothing of survivors that may be hiding within. Slay them and seize any valuables you find.” The work was carried out at once. Captain Talek oversaw it at first, to ensure that none of the men slipped any goods under their hauberks. As he watched grieving children be roped and torn screaming from dead or dying family members he could not help but mutter under his breath, “Who is it then, that is little better than the Vüls?”

When Captain Talek returned to the Represent’s side he found him geared for battle and surrounded by his finest captains.

“Captain Merr,” Talek said in a low voice as he approached, “Why are you not with your host on the northern side? And the others, why have they abandoned their positions?”

“The Represent’s orders,” Captain Merr replied stiffly, “He sent for us all, as I presume he has you. He desires that we guard him into this battle.”

“He is a fool! Kiventa!” Captain Talek cursed. “Against the Vüls he refused to lead battle—yet in false glory he conquests against these dracoens? For what?”

“That’s not our place to say, Talek. Temper your tongue before it costs you your head,” Captain Merr muttered shortly.

The sounds of the fighting still rang loudly ahead—sounds of their own men dying, yet the Represent still looked proud and pleased. As Merr and Talek approached, he turned and smiled. “Is it done, Talek?” he asked as he drew his cold sword from its sheath.

“Yes Sire,” the captain replied stiffly.

“Good man. Onward now!”

Represent Ventus and his party moved on then to join the battle ahead. The sight they met was horrific, if not terrifying. Bodies of men and Dracoens alike littered the ground. The great trees’ branches shuddered and moved, beating and crushing men like erepods! The Dracoens here were very unlike those they had attacked before; they roared, clawed, and fought—volts of electricity spewed out of their mouths and struck many dead or else paralysed on the spot! Men were picked up and thrown into trees with devastating force!

Captain Talek cursed again under his breath—so many of his good men wasted on slaying these who had not even been enemies!

Represent Ventus blanched at the sight of the desperate Gem Dracoens. For a moment he looked as though he would retreat, but he recognized how they were tiring, weakening. Encouraged by this, the Represent directed his captains before him and plunged into the battle. He had seen a face he recognized in the midst, the one that was doubtlessly stirring the morale of the others: the Gem Chief.

Karaa was fighting the invaders with every ounce of might he could muster. He whipped them back with his tail, beat them off with his wings—anything he could do! His own blood and sweat soaked his fur. He opened his mouth and let another screaming claw of electricity leap from his throat. His heart died even as his enemies did; the Forest was no place for war! His surviving brothers who fought alongside him could not last much longer—he prayed that the women and the children would be able to escape. If this battle could not be won, please let them escape!

Samlii stood beside the Cira-anu, looking bewildered at the the retreating crowds with the girls under her wings. “Samlii!” Torran cried, spotting her. He hurried towards her. “Samlii!”

“Torran!” she exclaimed as he grabbed her shoulders. “Torran, what is happening? Where is Karaa?!” “The Münshirlings have come!” Torran said, “Karaa and some of the others are holding them off—we must fly. It is his order that we flee. Keep the girls with you and come with me, hurry!”

“Great Guardians, protect us!” Samlii cried. She looked at him. “Torran, where’s Shemsi?”

Torran shook his head quickly, such an expression of utter agony upon his face as Thairyn had never seen before on her playful Kaocoa. Words would not come—could not come—and Samlii understood.

“Mama!” Valii moaned, “Mama, I’m scared!”

Samlii lifted her into her arms. “It will be all right, little one,” she breathed into her earfin. She grabbed Neyhira’s hand. “Come, girls!”

“But what about Papa!?” Kaqurei cried.

“He won’t retreat until he knows we are safe, come now,” Samlii said. “Hurry!”

Joining the fleeing masses was like jumping into the rapids of a furious river. Suddenly the world no longer made sense mid the screams and confusion. Samlii lost sight of Torran, but she kept her daughters close under her wings. And suddenly, there was a cry, and the river changed its course, back upstream and finally, broke apart and scattered. “They’re here! They’re here!” someone screamed.

There had been another ambush party lying in wait, and they had run right into it! Arrows rained down on them from above, and whatever direction they had was lost in that moment. Fire! Suddenly it was everywhere! Samlii fled from the main group, dragging her daughters with her faster than they had the strength. Soldiers came swarming into the burning grove, slaughtering and destroying as they went! She felt Kaqurei duck out from under her wing. “No, Kaqurei, please! Where are you going?!” she cried.

“I have to help Papa—I’m sorry, Mama!” and then she was gone!

There was no time to chase her—to save the little ones, Samlii had to leave her! Something died within Samlii at that moment that she tore herself away—Thairyn felt it, indeed there was not a soul nearby that did not feel her total anguish—“Kaqurei, please!” she screamed desperately. But her daughter did not return.

Valii was practically dragged by her mother as she fled—Thairyn and Neyhira had to run with all their might to keep up with her. Mother was leading them far from the grove, towards the edge of the forest near The Glassmere.

“Mama! I can’t keep running!”

Samlii slowed, but only a little. “You have to, my child, we’re almost out. Keep running!”

More horrible explosions rocked the ground. Samlii did not slow down until she came to a part of the forest that was not burning yet. The Tree Kin here rumbled with sounds of anxiety and sorrow. Mama paused here and looked back, panting. They had lost the soldiers, but Thairyn could tell from the screaming and explosions that they were not too far behind.

“Catch your breath,” Samlii instructed in a whisper. “The edge of the forest is just beyond those Tree Kin.”

Neyhira started to cry. Samlii put her hand on her head and drew her close. “Shh, Neyhira,” she breathed. “Please, shh, they’ll hear.”

“I’m sorry Mama—I can’t—I can’t st-stop!” Neyhira sobbed.

Thairyn’s arms and legs were shaking. “Mama, where’s Papa and Kaqurei?”

“They’ll come, little one, they’ll come,” Samlii replied softly, not looking at her.

“What about Faeralie and Grandmama and Kaocoa Torran and Nanani Shemsi and everyone else? What about the Tree Kin—Mama, they can’t get out of here!” Thairyn said in a choked whisper.

Samlii did not answer. Her earfins were focused towards the sounds of death and destruction behind them; her eyes swimming with tears. For a moment Thairyn wondered if she were waiting for Kaqurei and Papa, but if she were, she did not wait long. “Come,” she instructed her little children, “We have to go.”

She guided them quickly but carefully through the paths of the Forest, sometimes stopping and listening ahead or flicking her earfins back to hear if they were being followed. It became very dim in this side of the forest; as Thairyn looked up towards the canopy she saw not sky nor Kiir in the gaps between the leaves but billows of black smoke instead.

It was then that Thairyn became aware of an odd sort of rustling in the leaves. It started as a whisper, but it grew louder, and the rumblings of the Tree Kin gradually started to sound like humming. Tears filled Thairyn’s eyes as she realized that they were singing.

“There it is,” Samlii whispered just as Thairyn caught sight of a gap in the trees ahead. She saw the Glassmere Hills just outside.

Suddenly there was another explosion, so close it knocked Neyhira and Thairyn off their feet! Fire burst up instantly amongst the grass and Tree Kin!

Münshirling soldiers whom had been lying in wait near this exit jumped up from their hiding places shouting loudly! The girls screamed in terror—Samlii roared in a horrible way, gathering her children behind her and shielding them with her wings!

“Leave us!”

The soldiers paid her voice no heed. They came at her with their wicked weapons. Samlii grabbed sword after sword and pulled them away from her attackers, cutting her hands deeply. Valii started wailing for her terror!

That sound did something to their gentle mother. She glanced over her shoulder at her weeping child with a completely wild look in her eyes—then at her advancing attackers. In an instant she sized them up—it was a small group, there were only fifteen of them. Two came at her left; she twisted violently and let the full impact of her swinging tail meet their heads. Thairyn heard a terrible crack and clang as one of the

Münshirlings’ helmets flew off! The two hit the ground without so much of a cry and did not again stir. Her eyes wide with horror, Thairyn looked past her mother at the face of the one whose helmet had flown, lying unconscious in the grass. He looked just like a normal person, like Gideon or Nya, not a monster or a demon—how could he and the other Münshirlings be doing this?! Why were they doing it?!

The rest pressed in at once—surrounding Samlii, so that her bodily barrier between them and her children was not enough! She screamed in fury, twisting this way and that to fend off their blows. She caught a Münshirling under his helmet and flung him at the others; his body collided with four of his companions and the lot of them toppled to the ground. One scrambled up and ran, the remaining four got back to their feet and came in for another attack—but Samlii could pay them no mind. Another Münshirling soldier had been able to grab Neyhira’s arm from behind—the child screamed in fear—Samlii, like some sort of animal, struck like lightning and bit deeply into his shoulder! Were it not for his armour, his collarbone might have been shattered, and even so the metal was crushed and he screamed in pain before she cast him back.

“If you value your lives you will LEAVE US!!” she roared in their language.

Suddenly Thairyn became aware of something moving out of the corner of her eye. She had no more than turned her head to see what it was when it came bearing down upon Neyhira! She did not know if the scream was her own or her sister's; ringing in both her ears and her heart, it would remain there even after the battle was won...