Enfri tied the empty water skin around her waist and kept walking. It hadn't lasted as long as the first one. Every time she took a drink, the thirst returned immediately. Her tiny sips weren't remotely enough. Even as she drank the last of her supply, her mouth was dry and sticky. Her headache, a sharp and incessant pain within her forehead, had been her constant companion since she woke up.

Dehydration, she told herself. Moderate to severe. Soon, I'll start getting dizzy, maybe a little disoriented.

    It would be a simple matter to treat. All she needed was significantly more water than she'd been getting. Nothing simpler. She just needed to gather a little of all this water lying around.

Oh, and delirium, too, she added to the list of symptoms. Better watch out for that.

    The night was halfway gone, and the cold was getting worse. Enfri rubbed her arms raw to try to work some warmth into them. It was no use. Even running hadn't been helping.

    She was tired as well. Three times she stumbled to her knees while trying to trudge her way through the loose sand. It came of trying to walk up the slopes of sand dunes. Her brain simply couldn't fathom that there were obstacles ahead of her.

    Enfri was moving forward, but there was no thought behind her actions. Only purpose. Reach the spire. Keep moving. Find the wellspring. Deebee should have come by now.

    Worry for the tiny dragon was as pressing as the painful thirst. It had been two days since they split up. Or was it nights? Night and days. Enfri had trouble keeping it all straight. Thinking was like trying to catch smoke on a foggy day.

    Deebee was alive. Enfri was sure of that much. Every couple of hours, she'd feel a sudden burst of energy. It must have been Deebee giving strength through the bond. Enfri took those brief surges of vitality as encouragement to keep moving. Whenever she felt one, she'd break into a jog. She'd try to respond as Deebee had the night before, by sending ether, but she couldn't be sure if it worked.

    There was no choice now. Even if the wellspring was dry, Enfri couldn't turn back. She'd never make it out of the desert. The point of no return was far behind her. The only hope she had was to find water at the spire. If there wasn't any, Jin would find Enfri's desiccated body and cart it back to Althandor to show off to the king.

    Enfri sniggered at the thought. It was funnier than she expected. She had no doubt whatsoever that Jin would eventually find her corpse. Inevitable. Like the rising of the sun or the coming of winter, Jin found what she hunted.

I'd be disappointed if she didn't, Enfri decided. It just wouldn't do for us both to lose.

    Without warning, the wind picked up and blew Enfri's hair back. The sudden gale stopped her in her tracks, and she had to cover her face with her arms to protect it from the stinging sand. The freak windstorm changed directions, and Enfri toppled to her side.

    It was a sandstorm. Before Enfri even realized what was happening, she was rolling across the ground and desperately trying to protect herself from bits of sand that stung like wasps. She curled into a crooked, little ball and prayed that the storm would pass quickly.

    If Jin could only see her like this. How admirable would the assassin find her now, clumsy and half-dead as she was? Jin would be ashamed she ever thought well of her.

What does it matter what she thinks of me? Jin wants me dead. I've known that from the start, so why does it only hurt now?

    Enfri cringed. It was a familiar feeling, much like how Mother used to sing to Enfri while she brushed her hair. Brief moments of kindness that proved to be lies. They made her yearn for more of that kindness, because she then knew that it could be possible. Only, something about Enfri was wrong and brought out the cruelty.

    Even though it had only been in a dream, her cheeks grew warm as she remembered the touch of Jin's fingers on hers. She couldn't forget the way the other girl held her hand with a tentative gentleness. Then, it had given way to the harshness Enfri should have known was waiting just beneath the surface.

    Her fault. She shouldn't have been born. If not, then she wouldn't have been another Aleesh for the assassins to kill. She wouldn't have been a constant, hunchbacked reminder that the love of Mother's life was dead and gone.

    Enfri pounded her fist on the ground. Winds take Jin and Mother both! She hadn't asked to be what she was. Mother could never see further than Enfri's back. Jin couldn't see anything more than her brown skin and blonde hair. They didn't know her, but she knew herself.

I will never be ashamed to be me!

    It occurred to Enfri that she once heard someone else say those words. She couldn't quite remember who.

    Enfri shook off the sand covering her and stood. She couldn't waste time lying around feeling sorry for herself. The spire and its wellspring were out there, and she needed to...

    She felt her stomach do a cartwheel. Which way was she supposed to go? The fall had turned her about, and it wasn't clear which direction the spire lay in. She squinted but saw nothing. The storm obscured the horizon. Even Ruhali was hidden.

    Enfri looked around. She thought she could look at the tracks she left behind to know which direction to go. The wind had blown all signs of her trail away. Even the landscape was changing before her eyes.

    So this was what despair felt like. Enfri thought she knew it when she first learned of the memory ward placed on her, but that was nothing compared to the sure knowledge that she was well and truly lost. She'd failed. Without water, there was no way to survive.

    She wondered if she ought just pick a direction and start running. Worst case scenario, she'd go back the way she came until the sandstorm cleared up or she died of thirst. Not an encouraging thought, but she saw no other choice.

    Enfri chose the direction she thought felt the likeliest. She was about to set off when she heard a low, crooning noise over the blowing of the wind.

What in the king's name was that?

    A dark shape appeared over the top of a nearby sand dune. It was a squat figure that stood on four legs. As Enfri tried to decide on just what the blustering thing was, the shape let out another cry, low and loud, as it came closer.

    It was a megathon! Winds, but they were just as ugly alive as they were dead.

    The beast ignored Enfri as it trudged past her. Its scaled head was lowered against the blowing sand, and it pressed forward with surprising speed. Enfri doubted the dull-witted creature even realized she was there.

    The animal was a reptile, cold-blooded, so it should have been practically catatonic in this cold air. The sandstorm must have been what roused it from its rest.

    Enfri gasped— an act that almost made her choke on a mouthful of sand— and she remembered something Tarlus had said while Enfri spied on the assassins' camp. Megathons traveled the desert between sources of water. If this one was being spurred on by the storm, it might be heading towards the nearest wellspring.

I swear to never call a megathon ugly again, Enfri resolved. She ran to the creature's trail and followed it at a respectful distance.

    The nearest water had to be at the spire. If not, then somewhere else close by. Enfri whispered thanks to the winds. Perhaps the sandstorm had been a blessing. It sent her a guide, a gift from the spirits for a mortal lost in the desert.

    Enfri followed in the megathon's trail for what felt like hours. It maintained a steady pace that Enfri had to jog to keep up with.

    Though the storm lessened over time, it never quite let up fully. Enfri wished that she hadn't lost her shawl when she first fled into the desert. It would have helped keep the sand out of her eyes.

    The thirst was becoming unbearable. Her tongue felt like a slab of meat left too long in the smokehouse, but she felt that she could endure it so long as she kept her savior ahead in sight.

    As the dawn approached, Enfri saw nothing but the megathon's swaying tail ahead of her. She was so focused on keeping pace with the beast that she hardly noticed that the path led to a massive archway of stone. Tall rock faces ran in either direction and disappeared into the storm's haze.

    Enfri craned her neck to look up at the sandstone overhead as she followed the megathon through the arch. She'd never seen anything quite like it. More surprising was what she found on the other side.

    It was another abandoned settlement. Enfri took a moment to look back at the archway. It wasn't a natural rock face, but the remnants of a stone gatehouse. Perhaps this village had a wall around it for protection against sandstorms.

    The megathon ambled along the decrepit streets without slowing, and Enfri had to remind herself to stay with it. Her thirst and fatigue were momentarily forgotten as she looked at these latest ruins. The buildings seemed to be bigger here than in the ruins she'd already seen. Maybe this had been a more important holdfast. A trading hub perhaps, much like Sandharbor was.

    Enfri squawked in surprise when she ran straight into the rump of a confused megathon. The beast bleated in agitation and scampered another few steps forward. It gave Enfri the chance to see why the megathon had decided to stop.

    It was remarkable how a person could forget what a color looked like. Enfri stared like a fool for longer than she'd care to admit. Her mind was having trouble comprehending that she was seeing green for the first time in what felt like ages.

    Between two collapsed structures lay what appeared to be a garden. There were several different kinds of flora. After seeing nothing but sand dunes and stone for the last couple of days, Enfri had almost forgotten what plants looked like.

    She stood beneath a strange tree. Its giant leaves spread out above her like a canopy, and small red fruit grew beneath the fronds. Bright green grasses covered the ground ahead. She saw ferns and stalks of wild barley. There was even a peach tree next to a fallen stone pillar.

Where there's vegetation, there's water.

    Enfri stumbled forward through the grass. Her shoes caught in the thick soil, and she fell to her knees. Moisture soaked through her skirt, cold and wet. She was kneeling in a stream bank!

    There was no time for waiting on ceremony. Enfri plunged her face into the stream. It was a little more than a foot deep and cold like icy runoff. And fresh! Enfri thought that she'd never had water so clean. It felt like life itself as she slurped up as much as was humanly possible.

    She drank so deeply that she nearly forgot to come back up to breathe. Droplets of water flew from her sodden hair as she pulled her head out, sputtering and shivering.

    Sand stuck to her face. The sandstorm was more of a sand-drizzle at this point, but it was enough to remind her that she was still exposed to the elements. She refilled her water skins while she looked around for somewhere she could take shelter.

    The megathon stood a half-dozen paces away. It stared at her with a befuddled look as it chewed on wild barley. Seeing the beast eating made Enfri's stomach growl. The megathon froze in mid-swallow and took on a decidedly anxious posture.

    "Don't you worry," Enfri told it. "I've sampled your kind. You're safe."

    The megathon blew out its nostrils and resumed its breakfast.

    There had to be something for a human palate about. Enfri remembered the peach tree and crawled in that direction. She found that the fruit were a few weeks shy of ripening, but she didn't consider that much of a problem. Her stomach was desperate enough that she'd have eaten blossoms if that was all she could find. With some effort, she managed to pluck a low-hanging peach from the tree.

    The peach was crunchy and somewhat bitter, but it was still the most delicious thing Enfri had ever eaten. She ate two more before sampling one of the red fruit from the odd tree with the fronds.

    Grandmother's teachings made Enfri wary of new plants, so she tossed one of the fruit in the megathon's direction. The big lizard snapped it up with a contented grunt.

Well, if they're good enough for him.

    The fruit were half the size of peaches and oblong like duck eggs. The texture was similar to unripe peach, but the flavor was much more pleasant than Enfri anticipated. Earthy and sweet enough to make her lips pucker. She probably ate a dozen before she had her fill.

    The storm chose that moment to pass, and Enfri looked up towards the newly clear sky. Fruit juice dribbled down her chin when her jaw dropped in awe. Rising so high that she could hardly see the top was a great tower of stone. This oasis grew all around it, and Enfri knelt no more than thirty paces from its base.

    The stream flowed out from the entrance of a cave in the rock tower. Thick vines like verdant ropes covered the rocks leading up to the cave. The wellspring must have been inside. It was just as Deebee described.

The spire. I made it.

    Enfri dunked her head into the stream once more to wash away the fruit pulp and sand covering her face. Were it a little deeper, she'd consider having herself a bath. Winds knew she needed one. There was a good chance that her new megathon friend was keeping his distance because of her odor.

    Another thought came to her. Deebee should have been here. She should have arrived a long time ago. Worry assaulted Enfri's heart and nearly smothered her.

    Enfri sent a trickle of strength through the bond. If Deebee was in trouble, hurt, or hiding from Gain, Enfri didn't know how else she could help her.

    Several moments passed and nothing changed. She tried sending a little more strength, though she didn't have much left to give. Then the bright, golden feeling of ether filled Enfri's chest. Deebee was responding in the only way she could.

    "Winds and storms," Enfri muttered to herself. Deebee was still alive. She just wasn't here. Where in the world could the blustering dragon be? Enfri could only trust that Deebee wouldn't be too proud to take healing if she needed it.

I wish I could let her know I made it to the spire, Enfri thought to herself. Well, there's nothing for it but to wait for her. If I'm still alive after a day or two, she should figure it out for herself.

    If Enfri was going to make camp here, that meant she needed to find shelter. With the ruins all around, there was likely a wealth of choices. After taking another long drink and sticking a few red fruits into her pockets, Enfri set out to explore. The megathon stayed behind. The poor dear was probably thankful to be left in peace.

    As she took a morning walk through the old roads, Enfri decided that this holdfast was much different from the other abandoned villages. The last two had been rather like Sandharbor, orderly but laid out as if they'd grown organically over the years. This ruin was much more regimented. Each building was the same distance from its neighbors, spaced evenly in a strict grid-like pattern.

    That wasn't to say it was completely uniform. Enfri came across a large boulevard with a big, round cistern that might have been a fountain. The structures here were built in a circle with the fountain at the center. It made Enfri think that this area had once been the town square or a commons.

    The bouleavard continued on for half a mile before it passed under a second archway in the wall. When this place was inhabited, it must have been a road going to the southwest.

    The buildings around the commons were taller than the ones next to the spire. They looked like they had been three stories tall at least. Maybe more if the top floors had collapsed on themselves. In their prime, Enfri imagined they must have been quite ornate. Some of them still had the remnants of carvings on their facades. The skeletons of little half walls lined the different properties. Perhaps this was the part of town where the village headman and wealthy merchants had lived.

    The encircling wall was barely visible over the tops of the structures. Enfri's eyes traced along the crumbling wall. And they kept tracing. Enfri blinked in confusion. She couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing.

That wall... certainly goes on a long way.

    Enfri clambered up a pile of fallen stones to try to get a better vantage. When she looked out again, she gasped. She could see ruins going on for at least a mile in every direction. She had thought the spire must be in the center of the ruin, but it was practically on the edge. The spire stood at the easternmost part.

This wasn't a village. It was a blustering city!

    Cursed or not, why would the Espallans abandon a whole city? Winds, why would there even be a city in the middle of a desert? Surely the spire's wellspring couldn't have provided enough water for so many people. It looked like thousands would have lived here.

    Something at her feet caught Enfri's eye. She looked down at the stone floor of the boulevard. Hesitantly, she knelt down and brushed the sand away.

    Something glittered beneath the layers of sand. Enfri had thought that the street would be paved with sandstone bricks or some other material easily found in the desert. Instead, the southwestern road looked like it was paved with...

    Truthfully, Enfri didn't know what kind of stone it was. She was hardly a mason. Whatever it was, the boulevard was paved with something that shone like cut opals in the morning sunlight.

    Curious. Beautiful, but curious.

    She then walked to the remains of the fountain that lay in the center of the commons. If it had ever held water, it hadn't for a very long time. It held nothing now, except sand and large, broken pieces of something that looked like glass.

Not glass. Crystal.

    Enfri picked up a shard of quartz and stared at it slack-jawed.

It couldn't be, she thought in disbelief. It's not possible. This had to have been built by the Espallans a long time ago.

    Enfri dropped the crystal shard back into the fountain and ran for the closest building. She frantically pushed her way through the collapsed doorway and went inside. It was dark in here, but there was just enough sunlight leaking through the doorway to see by.

    She once thought that the Smith family's home was like a castle, but it didn't hold a candle to this place. Their home, the forge, and any two other homes in Sandharbor could have fit within this first room.

    The chamber rose to the second story, the ceiling high overhead. A stairway, now broken and no more than rubble, had once gone up to the landing above.

    However, it was the sculptures flanking the inner doorway that held Enfri's attention. Protected from the wind and sand outside, they appeared as they did the day they were carved. The statues were identical, down to the last chisel mark.

    The sculptures were three times Deebee's size— larger than life— but they were unmistakably depictions of roaring dragons.

    Enfri felt faint. She stumbled back outside for some fresh air.

It can't possibly be true, she told herself.

    But here it was. Her own eyes were telling her the truth, and still she had difficulty believing it. Crystal fountains. An opalescent road.

    "Far to the west," she recited in a whisper, "beyond sand dune and stone, dragons and men knelt to the emperor's throne."

    Enfri felt a broad grin split her face. Why hadn't Deebee told her where they were going? This was unbelievable. Astounding. Marvelous! This city had never been an Espallan holdfast.

    This was Shan Alee.