FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*****

Chapter Forty Five

*****

Aylaryl rocketed towards the darkened sky, clutching Asterbury to her chest. His power washed over her, running over every scale, every membrane like warm water. With his help, she ascended faster than she ever had in her life. The dragon climbed so fast it left her head spinning, her paws tingling. If anything, Asterbury was flying her, and her wings were only guiding them.

With Asterbury's lightning crackling at her wingtips, Alyaryl hurtled above the warm, humid air settled over the marsh. Every wing beat propelled her with unparalleled speed, faster than she'd ever flown with him. It took only a few breaths for the air to grow cold in her lungs, and still she soared higher. She carried Asterbury further into the sky than she'd ever dare take any other creature, beyond what she thought any human or normal urd'thin could endure. But Asterbury...

She wasn't even sure he_could_ die.

What Aylaryl was sure of was the terrifying hole Asterbury's fury pierced between realities. If she did not act, it would tear him from her grasp, and it might well tear the very world with it. Aylaryl refused to let that happen. She would not let it take him from her. She would not let him lose control again. Not now, not ever if she could help it. And so she made a choice for both of them, and put their contingency plan into action.

They put it together years ago, after Asterbury first confided in her the truth of how he found himself in the great marsh. It was the same way he reached every other world. Whether through unbridled rage, crushing sorrow, or terrifying fear, it was always the same result. An eruption of painful emotions brought out powers that slipped his grasp, and struck at the heart of existence. They carved a hole through the veil that surrounded the world, and then they dragged him through it.

She would not let that happen to him again.

As the air grew too thin, her heart hammered against her sternum, as if punishing itself for daring to care so deeply for such a creature. Even then she beat her wings, forcing herself higher. She had to go dangerously high, to make sure consciousness faded from him enough to staunch the flow of his otherworldly power. Aylaryl lost enough family already. She wouldn't lose Asterbury.

The purple dragon had never been so thankful to be trusted in all her life. The moment she told him she was doing it, pain replaced the fury in his eyes. It hurt her too, knowing how he must feel to have frightened her so, to have lost control when everything he wanted was in his grasp. But all that mattered now was to keep him safe, and in this world.

Aylaryl's head throbbed as she sliced upwards through icy air. She'd flown so high that there wasn't enough air left even for a dragon to breathe. The pain was a knife stabbing her in the brain. Every breath was needles in her lungs. Paws that tingled moments earlier now had no feeling at all. Her blood was frost in her wings. If she didn't descend soon, she'd pass out herself. Then they'd have a new problem. She glanced down at her passenger. Asterbury's dark eyes were half-rolled back, his maw hung open, tongue lolled. It looked pale. She shifted him, and he was limp in her grasp.

Like a little toy.

An adorable little urd'thin doll.

If only she had a little scepter to put in his hand. And a tiny crown for his head.

She could play Kings and Emperors with her little urd'thin doll.

In a strange, detached way, Aylaryl realized she was losing consciousness. Her thoughts were drifting. She cradled Asterbury to her warmth and folded her wings. The lightning dissipated around her without his power to command it. Far, far below, the terrifying gateway he'd accidentally created dissolved back into nothingness. Aylaryl tilted back towards the earth, and half-conscious, plummeted.

Even without Asterbury's help, Aylaryl's dive quickly picked up speed until she was falling faster than she could ever ascend under her own power. The edges of her vision dimmed, darkness crept closer. Little motes of light cascaded across what was left of her vision, like the sparks that fluttered away from Asterbury when he grew too angry. Aylaryl half wondered if she passed out if the world would bend for him even in unconsciousness.

When the air grew warmer, she eased her wings open an inch at a time, tilting her head to let herself to take bigger gulps of air. With warmer, richer air in her lungs, feeling flooded once more into the dragon's oxygen starved body. With it came fresh pain. The throbbing in her brain shifted to her paws. Her wings screamed, an agony enough to make her fear she flew so high she damaged them. At least the pain brought her focus. She grit her sharp teeth, spreading her aching wings moment by moment.

When her descent stopped, she leveled off and soared above the cypress trees that covered this part of the marsh. Darkness was settling across the land. A hint of glittering starlight reflected on patches of water visible between the trees. Aylaryl swept her gaze across the marsh. The village on the hill was far behind them, and now she needed shelter until Asterbury recovered.

Asterbury stirred and murmured in her arms, pressing himself to her warmth. Aylaryl hugged him against her, trying to press every inch of his little furred body against hers. She hoped she hadn't taken him too high. If he'd gotten frostbite, he'd have to wake and heal himself. Or what if he had internal damage from the frigid air? Gods, should she land and wake him immediately in case he had to fix something important?

She took a deep breath, told herself he'd be fine. He'd once told her he could survive a knife in the heart, if he had to. She wasn't sure she believed him at the time, but now she knew better. While he claimed it took effort to heal himself, she knew when worst came to worst his body took matters into its own hands.

The urd'thin murmured again. She gazed down at him, and he blinked a few times. Asterbury squinted as though even the faint light from the first few stars was too bright for him. Dark eyes glinted amidst pale gray fur. He splayed his big ears back, offered her a thankful smile, and then laid his head against her scales. With one ear pressed to her chest_,_ she knew he was listening to her heart.

Your heartbeat soothes me.

The memory made Aylaryl smile. That was the first time he'd ever told her that. And now, just as before, he looked like a helpless little pup in her grasp. A small, scrawny little furred thing wrapped in fancy clothes and practically lost amidst a dragon's forelegs. He seemed so small, so fragile. She wanted to protect him, but knew he only ever needed her to protect him from himself. It seemed unfathomable such a frail creature should hold such power. Aylaryl suspected she could strike him with everything she had, and she'd succeed in nothing but shattering her paw against his iron will if he but wished it.

But there was something she knew Asterbury needed from her. Comfort. He looked to her for protection not from the world, but from his memories. From his own power. Even if she did not need to fight for him, she could wrap him in her wings, hold him in her forelegs, and hide him from all the pain the world had to offer. When his memories grew too heavy, she eased their weight from his shoulders. When the pain grew too much to bear, she comforted him while he cried.

As Aylaryl banked towards a line of green hills marked with gray, rocky outcrops, she wondered if anyone else in this world had ever seen Asterbury cry. Enora, perhaps, but surely that was all. That was fine with Aylaryl. It was better that way. Let their enemies fall before his might. Let the world tremble in awe at his power. Let the storytellers fall to their knees in despondency when they realized just what it was they truly faced.

And let her hold him while he cried.

Aylaryl knew that pain all too well. She knew how it tore out your very heart to have your family ripped away from you. To watch those you love suffer. To see them die.

To know you were alone.

Aylaryl knew Revaramek understood the pain of loss, but he did not understand the agony of having your family torn away from you. Not by some sickness, but by someone else's hand. To watch them take from you everything you loved. To know that they had brought about that loneliness, put that hole in you that could never be filled. Revaramek would never understand what Asterbury and she had been through, why-

"Too...tight!" Asterbury squeaked, patting her paw.

"Sorry." Aylaryl eased her grip, gave him a sheepish smile.

She let out a long sigh. She wasn't alone anymore.

Aylaryl met him in her darkest time, when she was at her loneliest. Long after her family was murdered and Revaramek turned his back on her to choose their killers, instead. When she wandered the marsh, drifting on her wings, trying to find a way to fill the void gnawing at her soul...there, at last, was Asterbury. A creature as alone and broken as her. Hell, even she had to admit, Asterbury was far more broken inside than she was. And yet, over the years, they had pieced each other back together. Asterbury, Enora, and her, they were a family now. And she would never let them go.

She would die long before she'd let anything happen to Asterbury.

To think that back then, she thought him only an urd'thin. She was so sure she was saving his life when she first met him. He kept most of his powers to himself for years after that. Instead, he played the part of a wandering, disgraced noble cast adrift after the murder of his father, and half mad from grief. She knew that pain all too well. His tattered clothes, his dirty fur, it was easy enough to believe his story. Only when friendship blossomed into family did he begin to reveal a greater truth to them. Not only his truth, but the truth of the world itself.

It was only much later that Aylaryl came to understand just what an anchor she'd been for him. His mind was a churning, stormy ocean, sometimes drawn to madness. Till he'd met her, it had been a long time since he'd known warmth, or companionship. Maybe even since the day he slew his namesake and took his new name. She suspected that was also the day that the tide of insanity finally dragged him below its dark waves.

Since then she'd had many years to help piece him back together. In time, he told her who he truly was, and how once, he stalked the men who stole the stories he found himself in. Lately, Aylaryl sometimes wondered what would their lives be like if she hadn't asked to help him chase down the storytellers once more. When this was all over, when he had his chance to set his own story right, then she would settle down with him. Then they'd know peace.

Aylaryl cradled him to her chest as she banked towards the cave she sought. Just as he found comfort in her, she found the same in him. His warmth, his soft fur, having him near, it soothed something deep inside her. She held his little body with one foreleg, stroking his oversized ears with the other paw. His ears were velvet against her pads. He nuzzled at her, and then lay his horned head against her chest again.

A few stone-capped hills all lay in a line ahead of her. In the darkness that had settled over the land, the gray stone and green, grassy slopes blended together into the same uniform shade. Aylaryl banked sharply, twisting towards the leftmost hill. It had a cavern hidden away on the back side. She used to go there in her youth, when she was angry and needed to be alone. It wasn't much, but it would give Asterbury time to collect himself.

The dragon extended her hind legs as she dropped towards the grassy slope. She touched down, and hopped a few steps on three paws. Curling her neck, she licked the urd'thin's ears, then set him down against the grass. He got up, dusted himself off, and then hugged her around her neck. She smiled and rubbed his back, then gestured with her head at the cave tucked away in the rocks that capped the slope.

Their destination was little more than a grotto tucked into the stone, but it would give them a place to shelter and rest until Asterbury was ready to return to their stolen fortress. She ducked her head under the stony overhang, slipping inside. Her eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, so she had no trouble seeing inside the cavern. Alyaryl eased her way to the back, then settled onto her haunches. As Asterbury followed her inside, she held a foreleg out to him.

The urd'thin stopped at the entrance, looking around. He seemed lost. His big ears drooped, his gaze wandered, his shoulders sagged. His usually bushy tail hung limp. He put a hand on the stone, leaning against the cave wall, legs wobbling a little. Aylaryl got back up, walked the short distance to him, then curled a foreleg around him and carried him the rest of the way.

Aylaryl settled onto her belly this time, nestling Asterbury into the crook of a foreleg and her chest. She curled her neck, nuzzling at him. He gave her a little smile, stroked her nose, then lay his head against her scales, staring into the darkness. Even in the gloom, his dark eyes shone like burning ink. They glistened wet, an oily black sea of old sorrow.

"You're alright, Asterbury." She nuzzled the top of his velvety ears. "You're with me, now."

"I'm sorry." Asterbury's voice was as broken as she'd ever heard it.

"No." Aylaryl cooed to him, licking an ear. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"We had...our moment there, to...get what we wanted, and I almost ruined everything."

"It's alright, Asterbury."

"Ever since I saw that...picture...saw where Revaramek was from..."

"I know, I know..." She rubbed his back with a paw, stroked his slender arm. "Try not to think about it."

"I think...I think it was me. I...I tore the sky, and..."

"It's not your fault. Whatever happened, they pushed you to it. You know that."

"I didn't think one world could...truly become another. A different ending, yes, but to change so much?" He lifted a shaking hand, grasping at ghosts. "What I did must have changed something...fundamental. Or started something that...that in his unbearable grief, he continued. He was always so strong...But that strong? That's...almost like the gods' punishment, from the tales." His fingers curled, and he took a shuddering breath, dropping his hand. He gave a long whimper, his ears drooping. "My home..."

"Ssshhhhrrrr." Aylaryl made a soft dragon shushing noise. She curled her foreleg around his middle, purring to him. "You can fix it."

"My desert..." He closed his eyes, burying his face against her scales. He gasped, and gave a strangled sob. His shoulders shook. "What...what do I have...to get back to now? What do I have to show you? It's...it's all gone." The urd'thin took another trembling breath. His tears left hot streaks down her scales. "I thought...for so long, I could...get back to him. Even when I realized he must be dead, I...I clung to it, to my world! I wanted, I hoped...to return to it and take you there. To try to start again, when the storytellers were gone. It was...all I wanted. But now...now he tells me...they've erased my world, too? I...I didn't think...it was possible! I was...I was sure if I...found a way to...control it, I could...get back home. But there's...no home to get back to! They...they pushed us...until we destroyed it. It's...it's a cycle. First they destroy it, then we do...and now...now I have nothing..."

The dragon whimpered, shifting herself to curl around the sobbing urd'thin. She hadn't seen him break down like this for a long time. The scent of his sorrow clung to him, hot winds across a desert, his tears were water from an oasis. Aylaryl's heart ached for him, her own throat clenched. She sniffed, wiped away a few tears with a free paw. She couldn't cry now, not when he needed her to be strong. She so desperately wished she had something more to offer him, something to say that would ease his burden a while.

"It's alright, Asterbury..." The words sounded so hollow. She let him cry a while, just stroking his back. Her frills sagged. What could she tell when he'd just learned his very world was gone, twisted into some poisonous place not even dragons could survive? "I wanted to see your desert, too! But I'll be happy with you, wherever we go."

Asterbury took a deep breath, tilting his head to gaze up at her. He managed a smile, wiping his wet, swirling ink eyes. "Aarrrrrhhh...I'm so sorry, Aylaryl. I must have frightened you so."

Aylaryl gave a clipped laugh, trying to give him a comforting smile. She shrugged her wings. "The important thing is that our emergency plan worked. We're both still alive, and still in the marsh. You're not..." She lowered her head, neck curled, pressing her muzzle to his. "You're not hurt, are you? Inside?"

The urd'thin patted his chest and midsection a few times, splaying his ears and scrunching his muzzle. "I'm...not sure. My lungs hurt. How high did..." He sucked in a breath, trying to wriggle out of her grasp to look her over. "Are you hurt? Let me heal you!"

"My wings, mostly." Aylaryl glanced back at them. The membranes looked cracked and oddly blistered. "Frostbite or something, probably. Think we got higher even faster than we expected. Worry about it later." She tightened her grip on him when he started to squirm free, not about to let him go. "Later, I said."

"Oh, very well." He thumped his horned head against her chest plates. "I'm sorry."

"I told you, nothing to apologize for. You scared me, but...I forgive you. If it makes you feel any better..." Aylaryl lifted a paw to stroke his ears again. "Think you scared Revaramek and Jekk worse."

Asterbury gave a single snort of amusement, a hint of a smile twisting his muzzle. "Makes me feel a little better." Then his voice grew darker, the vulnerability in his eyes fading. "I'm going to cast that old man into the poison, and watch him flounder in the desolation he wrought."

"Aww, and here I was hoping I'd get to toss him to his death."

"Maybe we can bargain over him, later." Asterbury snuggled into the crook between her foreleg and her body, resting his head against her. He smiled up at her. "Bet you a severed head he has a heart attack before he hits the ground or dies of poison, anyway."

Aylaryl laughed, glad to see his spirits improving a little. "You need to find something else to bet with besides severed heads." She perked her ears, an idea coming to her. "Your home was 3-B, right?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes."

"Then how is Revaramek...I mean...How can you be certain that...3-B isn't still there? Isn't 3-D another world?"

"3 is the world." Asterbury stretched his hand into the air, spreading his fingers. A rotating globe appeared above his palm, rotating. One grand continent marked much of it, desert on one side, mountains and forested marsh on the other. "3-B is the version of the story in which we were taken from, but...because of the storytellers, every version of it leads to..." He gestured at himself with his other hand, snarling. "This. Him, me, fury, grief. One way or another, it always leads to death." Clouds built above the desert, pouring poisoned rain upon it before gradually spreading across the rest of the world, the floods eventually pouring to the southern marshes. "Same ocean, different shore. 3-B ended, 3-D is all that's left. Everyone dies."

"What about happy Vakaal?"

Pain twisted Asterbury's face. "He never gets to exist."

"But you see him, so..."

"I see a lot of things!" Asterbury snarled at her, but the snarl died just after it began. He lowered his hand, and the globe faded. "Not...everything I see is real. I think he's just...what should have been."

"How would you make him exist, if you could?"

"You'd have to..." He waved his hand, ears splayed. "Stop them from ever taking him, I think."

"Those gates they have." Aylaryl licked her nose, the idea still forming in her brain, piecing itself together. "They send you into another story, right?"

"That's the basic idea, yes." He tilted his head. "Why?"

"You're old. Older than Jekk. Is that because time passes differently in some stories, or do the gates send you to specific points? Could you use one to get back to world 3, and stop the storytellers yourself?"

"Maybe..." Asterbury pinned his ears back, a growling murmur of thought rumbling in his chest. "The other worlds...3-B, it still drowns. Once it exists, then it always exists...but..."

"But stopping them yourself could lead to the fifth story, right? Where Vakaal grows up happy, leading his tribe."

Asterbury's ears slowly perked. "...Maybe. Maybe. I...I don't know. I don't know if the gates work that way."

"But if they do, you might find a way to save your world, and break their loop."

"Yes...yes, I might." Asterbury rubbed his head, between his horns. "Or it might not work at all. Might send us straight into some empty limbo that never existed. Only one way to find out I suppose."

Aylaryl arched her neck. As glad as she was to bring him comfort, that didn't sound very safe. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that."

"At least we'd be together, right?" Asterbury pushed himself to his feet. "Come on. It's time I have a really good look at what's in that vault."

*****

By the time Aylaryl returned Asterbury to their conquered village, she knew he was in a better mood. Seeing him happier made her happier, too. Before they left the cavern, he'd taken care of their injuries. As always the healing hurt worse than the wounds themselves, but she'd rather suffer more intensely for a few moments and be completely healed than have the pain linger for days. He rode on her back again for the journey to their temporary home, letting just a little of his power slip free. It was just enough to give her the extra speed needed to get them home quickly.

After Enora, Asterbury was the second person she'd ever let ride her. Those two were still the only ones who had ridden her often. Though over the last few years she'd given Rekrek, Gavak, and some of the other va'chaak a few rides. Rekrek in particular adored flying on her back. Several times when he wouldn't settle down, she had to remind him that he wasn't Asterbury. If he_slipped off and fell, he was going to go _splat.

Dragons were not as acrobatic in flight as gryphons, and she doubted she'd be able to dive and catch a passenger. Which made it all the more baffling to her that Revaramek had somehow saved Mirelle. If that was a test, as Asterbury suggested, then he'd damn sure passed with aplomb. He'd always been an excellent flier, but that should have been impossible. To say nothing of the fact that he'd injured Asterbury not once, but twice. It made her nervous, though she'd never admit as much to her traitorous former lover.

It did leave her wondering just how he'd done that. If that book was right, and Asterbury's world had become Revarameks, was it possible that the powers that changed it had also changed its residents? If the poison was made up of the powers of Asterbury's people, could those toxins spread that power, even as it slowly killed them? Or had that change altered not just the world and its weather, but also its resident life? Aylaryl wasn't sure she wanted to think about it. She preferred to leave it to Asterbury to consider the various impossibilities of existence while she just enjoyed the ride along with him.

Asterbury stood up upon her back. She glanced back at him, watching a moment as he stood on her as easily as if he were standing on level ground, not a flying dragon. Speaking of impossibilities. Aylaryl shook her head, bemused as always. He'd gone to a lot of effort for a long time to keep his powers hidden away. Now that he had no reason to hide them, he sure seemed to be enjoying himself.

Even when they'd moved to eliminate Jekk's watchful sentries around the edges of his colonized lands, Asterbury kept his powers in check. He seemed to like to keep everything very close to his chest, never wanting any of his enemies to know just what he could do until it was too late. Not that Aylaryl minded. It gave her an excuse to wreck some havoc against her enemies, too. And an excuse to kick Revaramek's ass all throughout Fish Village.

Alyaryl spiraled down towards that village now. They'd made their temporary base there. After tearing the storytellers' vault out of the earth beneath Jekk's council hall, Asterbury dropped it in the same courtyard where he'd given his speech to the slack-jawed townsfolk. He'd gone through it for a while that evening, but she didn't think he'd had time to uncover all its secrets. Especially since after a while, she'd made him sleep.

Even the functionally immortal needed their slumber. She chuckled to herself at the thought. He might be able to live forever and heal any wound, but as far as Aylaryl could tell, Asterbury still needed to eat and sleep. Lately, she worked hard to make sure he remembered to do those things when he found himself consumed with other tasks.

Flickering street lamps and window panes glowing with firelight and lantern shine outlined what they'd dubbed Fish Village. Rekrek came up with the name, as far as she knew. It seemed fitting. A wide river paralleled the main street. Buildings on sturdy stilts filled the village. Shops and taverns and a few inns lined the primary thoroughfare. Granted, quite a few of them now set in various stages of ruin thanks to her battle with Revaramek. But plenty more still stood. And where some had fallen, new buildings could be put in their place.

It wasn't as if Aylaryl wanted to destroy the whole village. They'd already burned a few smaller hovels and sent their message. They'd let the refugees flee, let them spread word. Till Revaramek was called forth, and she had her chance to beat the hell out of his traitorous hide. All the while keeping the council Jekk founded in the dark about what was coming. Asterbury preferred it that way, and liked his appearance to be a surprise. He liked to play games with his adversaries, run them around, jump them through all his little hoops. Until at last he revealed to them the futility of what they faced. Aylaryl rather enjoyed it all. She'd never gotten to play that kind of game before. It suited her well.

But why completely ruin the larger villages when they could be beaten into submission and made to serve? Through Enora, those villages could be used to repatriate the va'chaak, the urd'thin, the gryphons...the dragons. Alyarly had no trouble admitting that in her heart, Enora was a better person than she was. Enora wanted the storytellers gone, but after that, she wanted all the world's peoples to get along. Including the descendants of the colonists. That was fine with Aylaryl now, as long as Enora was the one in charge. Besides, she and Asterbury...well, she wasn't sure where they were going next anymore. It didn't matter. She'd told him before, and she'd tell him again. Alyaryl would follow that crazy bastard anywhere.

Asterbury leapt off her back, plummeting with arms outstretched. She spiraled after him as he guided his fall. The urd'thin hurtled over the village walls, businesses on stilts and thatched roof homes on little rises. He hit the ground in the courtyard of the small fortress they'd taken as their own, and the earth rippled around him. How he did that, she'd never know.

Aylaryl circled the fortress as she came in to land. Smoke rose from the buildings' multiple chimneys. Light shone in windows, flames flickered and reflected on glass. Aylaryl was glad plenty of the va'chaak were still awake. She descended over the wall, and landed just inside the locked gates. A few scaly sentries stood guard in their bone armor, holding heavy spears. After she trotted to a stop across a square muddied by too many boots and scaled feet, the va'chaak came to greet her.

The dragon spoke up before they had a chance to do. "Find me Rekrek! And bring us food, and drink."

The lizards both gave her a bow and hurried off. She stretched her wings as an uncomfortable rumble shook her belly. It had been a very long day. Until she thought about it just after landing, she hadn't realized how hungry and thirsty she'd gotten. Or how exhausted her body felt. Even after being healed by Asterbury, emotional fatigue was turning physical. Her muscles ached. She needed a good rest as well as a good meal, and she knew Asterbury needed the same even if he was already occupying himself elsewhere.

For now, she settled herself to wait for the lizards to return. They never kept her waiting long. As expected, Rekrek himself was soon striding towards her. Though Rekrek wasn't the largest of their va'chaak friends, the green-scaled male with red and gold markings was one of two direct go-betweens between the va'chaak and Asterbury. The other was Gavak. Both essentially served as Asterbury's top minions. Each was also a leader of, and a voice for, a separate tribe. Aylaryl made sure to leave Rekrek in charge when she and Asterbury weren't around. He was the more level headed of the two, while Gavak was always more of a wild card. Aylaryl bowed her head in a show of respect, and he gave her a little bow in a row.

"Welcome back." He was out of his armor, and just wearing some sort of leather skirt around his waist, edged in tribal sigils. "How'd it go?"

"Long story." Aylaryl curled her tail around her paws, grimacing. "Had another fight with Revaramek and the girl. Asterbury got some bad news, and...didn't take it well."

"Oh?" Rekrek folded his arms over his chest. "There still a village left?"

"Thankfully, yes." Aylaryl flattened her ears. "How are things here?"

The lizard flicked his tail back and forth, shrugging. "Well enough. Got mosta the guards to play nice with us. Told 'em to start clearing up the debris, and try and keep the town running. Change'ah leadership, but...might as well get them used to it, right?"

"Right." Aylaryl drummed her claws against the muddy earth, her stomach rumbling again. "I'm about to eat, and then I'm going to try to get Asterbury into bed. He needs rest. He needs food, too. I'm having food brought, but...have his bed made. Get a bath for him, too."

"Right." He tilted his head, little frills lifted in hopeful curiosity. "And tomorrow?"

"Well, you'll have to ask Asterbury, but tomorrow?" Aylaryl smiled at him, giving a little snarl of excitement. "Tomorrow I think we conquer the village on the hill."

Rekrek clasped his hands, growling in delight. "Perfect! Alright. I'll go spruce up his bed and get things ready."

Aylaryl inclined her head in gratitude, and the lizard turned to walk. She let him get a few steps before she called out in a high pitched voice. "Thank you, Uncle Rekky."

"Oh no!" Rekrek made a rude gesture over his shoulder. "Only the boss gets to call me that. And I still don't even know he got that from!"

"Neither do I."

Aylaryl pushed herself to her paws, and made her way around the side of the courtyard to where the stolen vault rested. It filled up an entire section of the courtyard, a massive, hollow ebony obelisk, large enough even for her to fit inside. Asterbury had dropped it there and though it ended up half-buried in the dirt, nothing inside had been displaced or damaged. He'd righted it, eventually, and used his power to block the entryway with a rock wall he formed from the ground it rested on.

As Aylaryl approached the thing, she flattened back her ears, hissing under her breath. The vault made her nervous. Its sides were perfectly smooth, glossy like obsidian. Yet unlike obsidian, it did not reflect the light of the lamps set around it. Nor did it reflect the stars, nor the purple dragon, nor anything else. It reflected nothing at all, and held no gleam. Asterbury called it shadowstone, which meant it was the same vile substance that once bound him in ages long past.

The dragon snorted and tossed her head. To think those fools thought that anything could bind him.

The vault's front door was open, and light shone from inside. Even the inside of the black door did not catch the lamplight. As she neared it, she heard Asterbury muttering to himself. She ducked her head, tightened her wings against her body, and pushed inside the vault. As soon as she entered, a strange, otherworldly heaviness pressed against her. It made her spines tingle, her frills on full threatening display.

She licked her muzzle, and glanced around. A multitude of shelves and wooden panels laden with recessed alcoves lined the walls. Books and tomes filled many such spaces. Other alcoves were filled with scroll cases and little boxes. Asterbury had moved a table and a chair inside. His collection of drawing implements, parchment, and sheafs of vellum were there now, too.

Asterbury stood with his back to her, books piled on the floor around him. He looked frozen, his hand held in mid-air, reaching for another book. Only his ears moved, and they swiveled towards the table he'd brought in, as if listening to someone speaking there. His bushy tail twitched back and forth in time to unheard music. Soon, the urd'thin was humming to himself. She recognized the melody, one of several he only sang himself when he thought no one was listening. When he remembered. Or when he saw him...

I see a lot of things!

"Is he singing to you again?"

Asterbury's ears flattened back. He glanced back at her, a little smile on his muzzle. "Vakaal's always singing somewhere in my head. Sometimes, I..." He took another book from the shelf, and waved it at the table, as if Vakaal was sitting right there on the edge of it, dangling his feet and singing to Asterbury. "Sometimes, when I'm angry...and usually when I'm alone...it feels like he's...trying to pull me back from the chasm, even though he knows it's too late."

Aylaryl took a deep breath, easing close to stretch her neck and nuzzle at his ears. She lay her chin on his shoulder a moment. "He just wants you to be happy."

"He knows what I've become, and even still, sometimes I feel like he wants to pull me back."

"Maybe he does." She nosed at the back of his neck.

Asterbury snorted. "Vakaal's dead, Aylaryl. They're _all_dead. There's only me, now. Seeing him, hearing him, it doesn't mean he's there." He tossed the book into the pile at his feet. "You know it's funny, for all the work Jekk did to wipe out their history, he kept all this. Suppose he thought they need them someday." He lifted his voice, waggling the knife at his hip. "He's an old hypocrite, what'd you expect!"

"He probably just wanted to share them with the council. And if you're that keen to change the subject, I won't press you about his songs." Aylaryl sniffed at some of the books. They smelled ancient. She picked one up and looked it over. An emblem of hands clutching a book embossed the spine, but the title was in a language she couldn't read. "And while it's nice to see you playing games again, should you really be tossing priceless tomes on the floor?"

"Most of them are useless to me." Asterbury pulled another one down, looked at it, and then dropped it. "I've seen a lot of them before. But you're probably right. He likely had to keep at least a few people in the loop all at least until he...well, I assume he smashed up his gates. They're not invincible, after all. Couldn't send this stuff back, couldn't bring himself to burn it."

"Do you think...they ever tried to go back?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. He might have falsified reports about how habitable it really was, or how under control. And I suspect by then, The Storytellers were getting a bit nervous about piercing any fresh holes in the weave. Besides, if you're trying to reach an island, and someone keeps burning down the bridge, why not just look for a new island? Especially if you think the islanders are all waiting to kill you as soon as you set foot there."

Aylaryl scratched the base of a horn. He had a point, as usual. She gazed around the place while Asterbury searched it. He'd stuck one of his hand drawn maps up on the wall. A collection of spheres covered it, each depicting another world he'd been too. Arrows and lines connecting them showed the paths he thought he'd taken from one to another. She stretched her neck, examining the map. A new addition adorned the map, near the center of it. Lines and arrows pierced it from all directions, seemingly connecting it to everything else. Some pathways stretched much longer than all the rest.

"I see you've updated your map."

"It's a spiral." Asterbury straightened up, staring at a book he found.

"What?"

Asterbury set the book aside, and glanced over his shoulder at her. "A spiral. Reality." He waved his hand around. "This reality, anyway."

Aylaryl flattened back her ears, baring a few teeth in a confused grimace. Sometimes she couldn't tell when it was madness talking, and when he was just talking about things that went way over her head. "What are you babbling about?"

Asterbury turned towards her, tilting his head. "The prime worlds, the let's call them, the various worlds with the stories meant to happen." He spread his hands, and glowing spheres popped into existence, twinkling and sparkling like floating stars. More and more of them, some above, some below each other. Asterbury drew his hands apart, and the spheres all fell into position. He traced a finger from one to the next, and the line formed a spiral. "See? A spiral. Or, at least my path through them..."

Aylaryl murmured, shifting her weight from paw to paw. "What does that mean?"

"Probably something mathematical. Or nothing." He put a hand on either side of the spiral. "I've read theories about sequences, and galaxies, but I'm not that smart, myself. But look!" He pulled his hands apart, and the spiral elongated into a three dimensional shape, widest at the top, narrowest at the bottom. Pathways stretched across the empty center, like strands connecting the many points along it. "A cone!" He cackled. "If only I had some ice cream."

"Some what?" Aylaryl arched her neck. Her scales brushed the black ceiling. Definitely the madness speaking.

"Know what I'm guessing is at the center of the spiral?" Asterbury clapped his hands, and the cone flattened once more. He brushed it aside, and all the glowing spheres fell to the floor, shattering. They vanished as he strode through them and to the map on the wall. He tapped a finger to the new world he'd drawn in the center. "Boop! 1-N."

"So what does that mean?" Aylaryl gazed at the map. "You mentioned it earlier, but didn't explain it."

A smile spread across Asterbury's muzzle. "1-N. It's a special designation. N stands for nexus, you see." He waved his hand at the world beyond the vault. "Which makes this a very, very special place. It's why Enora found so many books on her travels, from some many worlds, some of which even I haven't been too. You see, this place...it touches everything, it brushes...everywhere. There's only one version of it, I think, but it's...a little bit of everything. Sooner or later, everything ends up here. Enora and I used to theorize about it, on her travels, but now I know. It's just brimming with fractures. It's at the center of the spiral, and yet it's connected to all of it. From here...well, conceivably we could go anywhere."

"That...sounds like good news." Aylaryl eased onto her haunches, keeping her head low. "Especially with what we talked about earlier."

"It might be, yes." Asterbury went to another book shelf, perusing the books. "And it seems to easier to get out of than to get into. Anyway, unless we stumbled on the right fracture, we'd still need a gate. Revaramek said there was a device involved when he came here, and I'm betting that's what it was. Before the storytellers ever started colonizing, they were exploring the spiral. They must have built gates everywhere. I'd wager whichever one our benevolent overlord came through isn't the only one in this world that's been lost to history. And in a nexus...why, every version of their story might have once visited this place. To say nothing of everyone else who somehow stumbled here. But we'll start with Revaramek's gate."

"And you think we need him to open it, right? That's what this has been about."

"Right. Most of their gates are keyed, so to speak, to specific things. Usually their blood, or the blood of their beasts. It has to have their..." He snapped his fingers a few times. "Some of their power, for lack of a better word. I suppose if Revaramek came from the world we ruined...at least I know why his blood would open their gates. He must be descended from their slaves. Or...or...maybe he's..." Asterbury murmured to himself, rubbing his hands. "I need to do some more research."

"No, you need to eat dinner." Aylaryl maneuvered best she could to glance out the large door. Several va'chaak had brought a freshly slaughtered goat for her, and set up a little table for Asterbury. One of them put a plate laden with food on it, another set a chair, and a third lit a candle on the table. "Speaking of which, it's ready."

"I'm not hungry." Asterbury waved her off.

"You're lying. Even you need to eat. And I'm starving. We haven't eaten since this morning." Aylaryl reached out and set her paw on him. Her intent was to squeeze his shoulder, but she nearly encompassed his entire upper arm. "Even you have your limits. At least I assume you do. You nearly made two separate portals today, Asterbury, and you healed yourself from a grievous injury. Not to mention our minor injuries. So it's time to rest for the day. Eat, bathe, and sleep."

Asterbury folded his arms, grumbling like an irritable pup. "Don't wanna go to bed."

Aylaryl thumped a paw against the smooth, black floor. "Don't make me drag you out of here with the scruff of your neck in my teeth."

Asterbury's eyes widened.

"We both know I'll do it."

"Oh, fine." He turned around, and snatched up the book he'd set aside. "But I'm taking a bedtime story."

"If you must."

Aylaryl backed out of the vault as carefully as she could. Though she fit inside, she didn't want to risk turning around and having her tail damage things. As soon as she was out of the place, the odd heaviness eased, and she breathed a little easier. She trotted over to the goat, thanked the va'chaak, and tore into it with teeth and claw. Asterbury ambled out and settled into the chair they'd brought him.

"Such a messy eater."

The dragon ignored him while she stuffed her maw. Gods, she was hungry. The slightly mineral rich taste of the goat's still warm flesh and the hot copper tang of its blood were deeply satisfying. Between bites she watched Asterbury eat his own food with knife and fork, taking his time, savoring every bit. He stuck his gray-furred pinkie out whenever he lifted his glass to take a drink. He dabbed his muzzle with the corner of a napkin. Sometimes Aylaryl was half convinced he really was a noble.

At least until he stood up, brandishing his knife. "Waiter! There's a finger in my soup!"

"Oh, Gods." Aylaryl turned her head away. "Asterbury, don't-"

THUNK!

The sound made Aylaryl grimace. She wasn't sure if he'd actually done it or not, and his mad cackling didn't exactly provide the answer she was hoping for. Aylaryl swung her head back towards him just in time to see him flip the table over, scattering his plate, glass, and silverware.

"This restaurant is filthy!" He stomped a muddy boot. "I feel like I'm eating in a dirty courtyard. And there's blood all over this table cloth. I'm not paying, and don't expect a tip, either! If I ever come back here again, it'll be to burn this whole place down! Come on, Mirelle Two, we're leaving!" He pulled his knife free, and shook it in the air. "And you all smell like musty lizards!"

Asterbury gasped, putting his free hand on his chest. "Now that's just racist! I am appalled, Mirelle Two." He wagged his finger at the knife. "You're spending the night in the drawer with the wooden spoons!" The knife gasped. "With the _poor_people's cutlery? Oh, please, I'll be good. Can't I spend the night with you? There's something I've been wanting to do for you..." Asterbury tilted his head. "Oh? Is there?"

Aylaryl swallowed her last mouthful of goat, and licked the blood from her muzzle. "You're not taking the knife to bed."

Asterbury turned, wiggling the knife at Aylaryl. "You stay out of this, you outrageous lilac harlot!"

"Do I have to take that knife away, Asterbury?"

The knife waggled again. "You can't have him! He's mine now, and I'm taking him to bed with me!"

Aylaryl sharpened her tone, and thumped her tail. "You're _not_taking the knife into bed. You'll cut off your damn..." She blinked, sighed, and shook her head, her frills sagging. "Some days I'm not even sure if I'm just playing along or if I'm actually protecting you from yourself."

"Playing along, of course!" Asterbury pushed the knife aside with his other hand, and lowered his voice into a whisper. "She does terrible things to me when you're around!"

"That's it."

Aylaryl shot her head forward, and snatched Asterbury up by the scruff of his neck. She tightened her jaws just enough to get a grip without quite penetrating through his fur and skin, and then hoisted him off his feet. Asterbury squeaked, and then went limp, hanging from her maw like an obedient pup. The dragon carried him into the fortress, and to his chambers. As she walked, he swayed and bobbled a little, but otherwise remained limp and easy going. It made her wonder if urd'thin ever actually carried their children that way, or if he just adopted the role whenever she did that to him.

Though Aylaryl didn't fit through most of the fortress when they first conquered it, it didn't take Asterbury long to ensure she could reach the chambers he took for himself. Her wings brushed the walls as she stalked the wooden corridors, but she had just enough room now to walk through the place. She climbed the stairs, kept her head low to avoid banging it, and soon took the urd'thin all the way into his private rooms.

Asterbury had taken over the room once occupied by Councilman Marl, the former head councilman of the small village. It had a large, four poster bed in one corner, that Asterbury had outfitted with fresh purple and gold blankets, along with gryphon feather pillows. The wardrobes and dressers around the room were now filled with exotic noblemen's clothes, art supplies, and odd musical instruments he sometimes played. A painting of golden sand dunes hung on a wall where once only a portrait of the councilman sat. Candles lit by the va'chaak provided plenty of light.

In his private bathing chamber, the va'chaak had already filled a hammered copper tub with hot water and plenty of soap. The herbal aroma filled the room. Aylaryl opened her jaws near the bathroom door, and Asterbury fell to the floor. He popped back up, rubbing the back of his neck. He narrowed his eyes, glaring at her.

"I ought to have Mirelle Two give you the business for that!"

Aylaryl eyed up the blade. "I think I can take her. And if you keep that up, I'm going to start worrying you really are going try and give that knife 'the business.' Put it away already, and take off your clothes."

Asterbury glanced down at himself. "Well, which is it? Take off my clothes, or put it away?" He cackled. "I can't do both."

Growling, Aylaryl reached out with a paw and carefully took the knife from the urd'thin. She set it aside, then unsheathed a single claw. Delicate as could be, she sliced it down first through Asterbury's tunic and then his breeches. She smirked at him as his clothes hung open. "There. Now take them off and get in the damn tub."

"Yes, mother."

Asterbury pulled off his rent tunic, and tossed it aside. Then he started to tug down his ruined breeches, pausing. "Well? Aren't you going to turn around?"

"Not as if I haven't seen you naked before."

The urd'thin wriggled free of his pants, grinning at her. He pulled his boots off one at a time. "In that case, perhaps you'd like to join me in the tub."

"I'd never fit."

"I could make it bigger..."

Aylaryl made a show of looking down at him while he was naked. "Yes, I think you'd have to. A lot bigger."

"Oh hah hah, you're hilarious!" Asterbury grabbed himself, grunted, and then took a running start before jumping into the tub. Half the water sloshed out onto the floor, running across it and into his chambers. Warm frothy bubbles washed across her paws. "There. Happy?"

"I will be when you're in bed." Aylaryl moved away from the soapy water. She walked to the window, and with a single claw, unlatched it to let some cooler air in. The room was a bit stuffy with all that herbal soap aroma. "You need your rest."

The dragon waited while Asterbury bathed. She gazed out through the window at the village beyond. It was late enough now that only the taverns were still open. She half wondered what their taverns were like. She'd only ever been in one, and that was because Enora's investments ensured it was large enough for any of the world's peoples. Maybe once Enora was head councilwoman in the village on the hill, she'd decree all taverns had to be open to everyone.

When Asterbury was clean, he slipped out of the bathroom, rubbing his damp fur with a towel. He hadn't bothered to put fresh clothes on. "You know, dear, you need rest too."

Ayaryl turned back towards him. "And when you're asleep, I'll get some."

The urd'thin smiled at her. "You're too good to me."

"Yes." Aylaryl smirked. "I am."

Asterbury discarded the towel, and blew out all the lamps and candles save one on a nightstand before he climbed onto the bed. He propped his horned head up against the feather-stuffed pillows, then held out his hand. "Mind the window. I'm calling my bedtime story." The dragon moved aside. A few moments later, and a book hurtled through the open window, straight into Asterbury's hand. He snuggled into the bed, pulled the blankets up to his chest. "There we are, perfect nighttime reading."

"What is that, anyway?"

"It's called The Storyteller Account." Asterbury looked the book over. It was in remarkable condition, bound in black leather, with vibrant gold lettering. "I've never actually seen a copy of it. A historical tome, of some kind. I've seen it referenced, but never gotten to hold one in my hands."

Alyaryl yawned as she stretched her forepaws out. "Yeah. Sounds fascinating. You read that, and I'm going to lay here a while."

The dragon settled down onto her belly, then rolled to her side, kicking her hind legs out together. Asterbury tossed her a few pillows, and she lay her head on them. Fatigue was a heavy, comforting blanket, and even before she knew it, slumber was taking hold. Her eyes drooped. Vestiges of dreams played through her head.

"Aylaryl."

Only the sharpness of Asterbury's voice was enough to penetrate the shroud of sleep. She blinked, her silver-white eyes bleary. "Hrrrm?"

"Do you remember when Mirelle said I wasn't a god?" His voice sounded odd, filled with a strange mixture of bafflement and some sort of trembling, nervous excitement.

Aylaryl lifted her head. The nightstand candle had burned over halfway down since she'd dozed off. Something about that question worried her. "Vaguely...well...yes?"

Flames danced in Asterbury's eyes, filling them with a haunting light. His sharp teeth flashed in the flickering candlelight and his voice twisted into a silken, dangerous snarl. "I'm afraid she's going to have to guess again."

*****

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