The boy hummed softly to himself as they went, side-stepping easily and with practice over the rocks and boulders snuggled into the carpet of the grass, and ducking to avoid low hanging branches that reached out for them like fingers. Soon they came to a crude makeshift bridge which hung over a misty darkness. The boy did not hesitate before stepping onto it and moving apace across the black ravine.

Theodan stared at it. Would it even hold his weight? A grown leoth carried more weight in one leg than this child did in his lean little body. He hesitated, studying the worn-looking rope which acted as a handrail with trepidation.

The boy was more than halfway across when he turned to address the fact that Theodan did not follow.

'We can go the long way around if you would prefer?' The boy asked. He didn't shout but he did not need to; his voice carried easily over the ravine. 'Though it will be noon on the morrow before we reach the caravan.' He punctuated it with a knowing smile for he knew what it meant.

Vala would be dead by noon on the morrow.

'It will hold?' He raised an eyebrow at the boy.

'You are larger than any who have tried it.' The boy shrugged. 'There is but one way to know.' There was a light challenge in his face which reminded him of Elyon.

In the end, it was the nonchalance in the boy's expression which pulled him onto the bridge. If the thing did not hold then the boy would fall to his death too and survival was weaved through the Sun Kin's blood. The bridge would hold.

Holding his breath Theodan stepped onto the wooden platform. It groaned under his weight and his stomach fell, dropping into the depths of the ravine. This was not the same as soaring through the skies on Nux. This was entrusting his life not to a powerful beast bred to fly, but to a few crudely lain planks and twisted twine. As he took a step forward the boy flashed him another of his crooked smiles before turning to hurry across the bridge.

As Theodan followed, quickly, each step came with the expectation of the snap of wood and the whip of the rope as it was snatched from his grip.

When he reached the other side, sweat-licked from fright, the boy was waiting, his eyes gleaming with anticipation (and disappointment Theodan thought).

They crossed two more bridges, slid around a cliff-edge, and climbed the face of a rock four times the boy's height before they arrived in a sunken valley snuggled between two mountains.

The camp ahead of them was not overly large, perhaps twice the size of Teredia's courtyard, with tents of varying shapes, sizes, and colours dotted here and there. He followed the boy down a hilly decline toward the camp and two Kin guards. They wore rounded hats made of soft leather and dark scarves covering the lower part of their faces. Each held a bow firm in their grips and a hung a curved sword from their belts. They did not look surprised or alarmed to see him, a Leoth, here in their well-hidden camp, though they eyed him with suspicion before nodding at the boy.

Wooden planks cut a path through the encampment, half-submerged and caked with hardened dusty footprints. Trenches had been dug in around the tents to deal with the substantial rainfall this far up into the Gelder. Kinsmen and women sat in small groups around firepits, talking in a myriad of Ethis tongues. Others sharpened weapons. Others stirred large pots that bubbled over open flames.

He followed the boy to a large pavilion in the centre of the camp raised on a wooden platform and accessed by a wooden ramp. Four kinsmen stood around a brazier just outside the entrance. None of them appeared to be Corryn Vane. Two had crossbows strapped to their backs, but again all had long curved swords hanging from their belts.

As he and the boy approached they stopped talking and lifted their heads to assess him. He straightened and stared them down. Some men balked at the sight of an armed Leoth. These men did not.

Perhaps it was because they could easily shoot him where he stood. They would not kill him outright but they could injure him badly enough that even a skilled warrior such as he would find fighting them as a group an almost impossible task. Perhaps it was as the archers from the camp entrance could take him down from behind too - he glanced briefly over his shoulder to see that they watched him still. Or perhaps it was because there were more shooters hiding in the mountains surrounding the camp?

Just one carefully aimed shot at the base of his skull or his heart and he would be no more. After all, he was not immortal.  Hard to kill yes, but not invincible. Skirting his gaze left and right, Theodan studied the outline of the mountains for movement or threat but the light was low, the sun long set, and so they were nought but large blots of dark ink. An assassin would surely fare just as bad shooting from such a vantage?

He closed his eyes to sharpen his hearing, to better hear the slice of the bolt as it cut through the air toward him. It did not come.

'Theodan of Teredia is come, Corryn!' The boy shouted. There was a pause before a familiar voice came from within the pavilion.

'Ah, but of course, he has! Come inside and drink with me, friend.'

The word 'friend' was said much like an indignity he was forced to bear.

He looked at the guards, expecting them to demand his weapons before entering, but they said nothing. Their eyes boring holes through him, their lips firmly closed.

He did not use the ramp but vaulted up onto the platform and strode through the opening and into the buttery yellow glow of the tent.

On a a low divan covered with furs, Corryn sat alone before a bronze brazier. He was sharpening a small weapon made against the light of the fire but as Theodan got closer he saw that it was not a weapon but a small wooden figurine, the shape of a woman.

No, a Queen.

He took a hesitant step forward.

Corryn didn't lift his eyes from his task but gestured out with a hand for Theodan to sit on the divan opposite. As he moved to do so Theodan skirted his eyes around the space, assessing his predicament: the tent was large - larger than his own in Azura's camp - with two sections breaking off on either side of the main space. A wooden basin sat in one, along with an array of weapons hanging from a large wooden stand, not unlike his own. A curtain covered the other so he could not see inside it.  Rugs covered the ground and walls, giving the tent a warmth he did not yet feel from its occupant.

As Theodan sat, a girl appeared from behind him with a tray atop which sat two small cups and an ornate-looking jug. She set it down on the low table between himself and Corryn. He glanced up at the server to see she wore a patch across one eye and a large scar down the cheek of the other. One eye met his two, curious and keen. The she then disappeared back into the shadows that hugged the corners of the space.

Corryn blew softly on the small piece of wood, then smoothed at it with his finger, gazing at it longingly.

'I would send her these. A bird, a varveh, a flower which reminded me of her, even Azura herself once, ' he said, soft. 'But I think this... this might be my finest work.' He held it up to the light of the fire, turning it this way and that. The firelight shone amber in his dark eyes. 'Think you it is a likeness?'

Theodan studied it. The small figurine of Queen Arielle was a work of fine craftsmanship. Every curve achingly sculpted, every feature longingly carved.

'I did not know her as you did... But yes, it seems a fine effigy.'

Corryn's face turned from soft to hard as he slipped the carving into the inside of his shirt. Theodan watched him closely as he replaced the small shaping tool carefully into a leather holder which contained several others, and rolled it up neatly. The girl appeared again to tidy it away into a drawer on the weapon stand in the room behind. As she did Corryn moved to pour them each a drink, his movements and fingers steady, his eyes avoiding Theodans completely.

He had aged well, Theodan thought. He wore a light blanket of hair over his chin and jaw, the hair shorn so close to his head on the sides that the scalp showed. The top and nape were grown longer - the same style as the boy who'd brought him here. Grey streaking through it at the temples.

Finally, holding a cup out to him, Corryn met his eyes. They held not a hint of light now. Black. Nothing but the cold.

Theodan took the cup from him. 'You did not sound surprised to hear I'd come.'

The Sun Kin Leader smiled thinly. 'Of course, you would come.'

'Is Vala Alive?'

'Did Sander not tell you she was?'

'Prove it to me.'

'You've the audacity to distrust my word?' He growled, the mask of calm slipping.

'There was a time when I would not have doubted a word you spoke, Corryn, but I think we can both agree that times have changed.'

'And who's fault is that, friend?' He glared, accusingly before throwing back the drink. His mouth turned down with distaste as he swallowed. 'Drink,' he commanded Theodan.

He did as he was bid, keeping his eyes on Corryn all the while. The drink was sour and sweet and hot all at the same time, though as soon as he swallowed a pleasant blur of heat rose to his temples, the base of his skull, and to his knees. He set the cup down and Corryn moved to pour them both another.

'Whatever this is to be between us, then let it be between us. Release Vala and let us deal with it as warriors would.'

'Then that is why you are here? To tell me how it is to be between us?' Corryn's asked, a note of warning in his voice now.

Theodan said nothing.

When he had poured, Corryn continued. 'It is not you who will decide what this is to be between us, Theodan, it is I. For this wrong has been done upon me has it not?' He lifted the hot mead and tipped it down his throat.

'Then decide, Corryn. For there is much to be done and war will not wait while we quarrel over what is done.'

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. To reduce what he had done to no more than a quarrel. Corryn's eyes flashed with fury, narrowing to black stones, polished with rage. Though when he spoke his voice was measured, quiet. He leaned closer.

'And if I decide to take from you as you took from me? Vala of Esterus has shared your bed for many years I am told. It would not sit well with me to bring another into this mess but I would live with it.'

'If we are to now put so much stock in what we have been told of the other, then I am told that you had long forsaken Arielle, Corryn.'

Corryn moved so quickly that Theodan had no time to retrieve his sword. Though whether he would have unsheathed it on Corryn he knew not. Corryn pressed the blade of his double-headed axe against the side of his throat, against the thick vein which ran below the skin.

'You would dare speak to me of that which you have desecrated?'

'If there is something you want from me, Corryn, then demand it,' Theodan replied. 'Vengeance perhaps? For if it is remorse then be assured that it already haunts me.'

Many moments passed while his old friend stared at him.

'By whose hand?' he asked him, finally. 'For I promise you that if it was yours, it shall be mine who will send you and your woman to the Gods this night.'

Theodan shook his head slowly, feeling the blade cut into his skin even as he did.

'Her own. She wrestled a blade from a Zybar guard and opened her own throat.' Perhaps the torture had broken her. Perhaps the thought of living without her child and heir was too much to bear. Whatever the reason, Theodan had helped bring that blade to her throat, and queen Arielle of Azura's death now weighed upon more heavily on him than any other.

He saw something break in Corryn then, and fall away. Closing his eyes, it appeared as though he searched for something in the darkness. Then, finding it, he let a small smile move across his mouth. A moment later it was gone. His eyes opened, resigned, and he levelled his stare at Theodan once more.

'Tell me why you're here,' He asked as he fell back onto the divan. Pouring himself another drink, he downed it swiftly.

Theodan sat forward, wiping the slick of blood from his throat with two fingers.

'Because you need me.'

Corryn scoffed. 'I need you?'

'Yes. And I need you.'

'You need me for no reason other than no realm will have you. And I have no need for an exiled Leoth who commands no armies and holds no seat upon his council.'

It was meant to wound him, and it did, somewhat. But it was a surface wound. Nought but a scratch.

'I have twenty of the most loyal Leoth at my cause. With you and the sea tribes, I believe we have a chance of driving Zybar back into the Ash sea.'

Corryn was laughing now, an empty drunken laugh. 'You think Hadden Wycliffe or any on The Windswallow will fight with you? Against Zybar? Gods, of course, you do. You think I will fight with you.'

'I am not asking you to fight with me, Corryn. I am asking you to fight for this realm for once in your life. For your people, for Azura.'

'You forget my people are here,' he told him. 'My realm is here.' He gestured out toward the camp. 'I have always cared very little for lowlanders, Theodan, as well you know.'

'You cared for one. Do it for her.'

Corryn let out a quiet growl of warning and banged his fist hard on the table. 'You would dare to use her memory against me? You who stripped her of all that she was? You who took her son from her and her home from her? You who delivered her to those who would see her end?!'

'Arielle was a female of grace. Of empathy and fortitude. Of valour.' Even after what Theodan had wrought upon her, she had treated him with respect. She had seen something noble in him. Had entrusted Fara to him and put herself in Torrik's wrath in her place. She'd weaved a tale so believable that it had allowed him to remove Fara from Azura unharmed. For that alone, he would see her memory avenged. Even if Corryn refused to stand with him. 'I regret my part in her end,' Theodan said, somber. 'And perhaps one day I might earn your forgiveness for it. But for now all I am asking you to stand with me as I ensure Torrik and his line pay for their part in it.'

Corryn said nothing for many moments. Watching Theodan with cold dark eyes which were at once somehow not as dark as they had been, yet still offered no light. Grief hung in the air, pain too, and when Corryn spoke again his voice was raw with anguish.

'In her last letter she was afraid. She felt certain Torrik's retaliation would be swift, brutal. She asked Sylvan to prepare men immediately, to offer Zybar reparations and to write to Calate for men incase he refused them. Sylvan reasoned that Zybar would not attack as the princess came with the weight of Calate behind her, though Arielle was not so sure Calate would rush to lend its arms to Azura.' His cup hovered close to his mouth as he gazed into the fire. 'She begged me to return and take command, to help convince Sylvan of the danger. As though Sylvan would have welcomed me back in control of his armies...' He threw back the drink and wiped his hand over his mouth.

'She was smart,' Theodan said. 'Smarter than Sylvan.'

Corryn nodded. 'And she knew what lay in the hearts of men.'

'Men like Torrik.'

'I refused her... Her last request of me and I refused her.' There was weight in his voice now. The weight of regret. Of shame.

'It would have made no difference had you led those men, Corryn. They were no match for my men. Or Torrik's.' Azura's army had always been the weakest of the four realms. The least brutal. The least skilled. As she grew richer; as her fields bloomed and her mountains continued to turn out jewels and gold, a smarter ruler would have pushed coin out to its armies and soldiers. For all knew that a country rich in commodity, needed an army richer in skill and strength to protect it.

'Against Zybar we stood a chance, at least,' Corryn accused, furious again. 'What quarrel did Leoth have with Azura? Leoth have never been concerned with the politics and wars of humans before. Why now? Why this?'

How could he explain such a thing? That the Dark One had led him here to Azura's shores to find Fara. That somehow she alone was the key to peace everlasting in Ethis.

'Our Visier foresaw it,' he said instead. 'For the four realms to see peace everlasting, Azura must fall. Leoth must fight.'

This did not appear to satisfy him at all. His head hung heavy on his shoulders, his eyes empty of any feeling.

'And fall she has....' Corryn muttered, moving to pour them both another drink.  'She will need a ruler.' He said after a time.

Theodan's spirits lifted a little. Hope kindling to light in the dark. 'I have one in mind.'

Corryn's eyes met his. 'If you think I have any interest in ruling, you know me less well than I thought possible.'

He happened to think Corryn would make a fine ruler.

'Fear not, it is not you. Though you would make a fine commander to Azura's new ruler...'

A wary look crept into Corryn's eyes. 'And who exactly do you intend to install upon the Golden Throne of Azura?'

Theodan met the dark gaze of his friend, direct. 'Fara of Calate.'