Chapter One

The world was a blur of color and sound around Malcolm. No matter which direction he turned, he couldn’t focus on anything enough to bring sense to the shapes that were forming before his eyes. They seemed to appear out of the swirling, morphing blend of red and orange light and grow ever larger, never truly becoming solid. At just the moment when they seemed as though they had grown to the point that they couldn’t grow any further, stretched beyond the capacity of his vision and perception, the shapes would dissipate, the transient nature of the charcoal-colored images allowing them to fade into the colored light like smoke.

As haunting and untouchable as the images, the sounds around him were loud and pulsating, burrowing into his ears and cutting through his body. There were screams that reverberated through his mind and pleas for help that climbed his ribs and clawed into his heart. Malcolm fought against them. He didn’t want to hear any of it. There was nothing that he could do for those people. There was nothing that he could do to stop the screams and soothe whatever was happening to them. He squeezed his eyes closed, crushing his eyelids onto his cheekbones so hard he could see spots flashing in front of them. The longer that his eyes were closed, however, the more vulnerable he felt.

Malcolm opened his eyes again, turning his head sharply to one side, hoping to see something more than what he had been seeing in front of him. The blur of light and color there had shifted from the shades of sunset that had been before him to acidic green and blue. The shapes seemed to be coming closer to him now, and they remained in shape long enough that he was able to make out the form of figures. At first it seemed that there was an army of the wavering forms approaching him, threatening simply with their existence. The closer that they came, however, the more that they blended as they melted until it seemed that there was just one large being growing larger and nearer.

He couldn’t move. No matter how much he tried to will his legs to carry him somewhere else or even just to turn away so that he wasn’t facing the strange being, Malcolm couldn’t get away from the place where he stood. The sounds around him lost their piercing edge and became deeper so that they seemed to shake the ground beneath his feet and vibrate through his body, trembling his blood and tingling in waves across his skin. As the figure in front of him became more solid, he recognized it as a member of the Order, cloaked in their formal robes. It was the robes that the men had been wearing when he was down in the lair, hunting Ellora when she ran from the Panel. The thought was burned into his mind, another scar that he carried. He knew that he had saved her. Even before he had made the decision to turn his back on the Order that he had known and run from all that had mattered to him since the day that he was chosen for their ranks, he had known deep within him that he couldn’t let his sister fall into the hands of the Panel, and when Athan came down into the tunnels, he needed to be protected as well. He hadn’t known then what he was guarding, but now that he knew more, Malcolm was even more confident that the decision he made, and the one that he made following it to leave the Order and join Athan and Ellora, was right. Despite that, he couldn’t let go of what he knew had happened in that lair and the plans that the Panel had had for them. He had followed them. He had allowed them to control him and to force him into their service, even when everything that was in him told him that what was happening was wrong.

The more that Malcolm focused on the suffering that he had gone through and the suffering that he now knew that he had aided, the more that he felt himself pulling out of the dizzying world and back into reality. He knew now that it was a dream that was tormenting him. He almost felt like he was awake and could perceive his true surroundings, feeling the couch beneath him and feeling the cool air of Icelyn’s house swirling over his skin. Even though he knew that nothing that was happening in front of his eyes was real, he felt incapable of pulling himself completely out of it. The screaming returned, punctuating the lower, deeper voices and sounds, and he saw the massive figure rise up in front of him again. It approached and then burst, melting away as Icelyn appeared in the midst of the glowing blue and green light and the lingering smoke of the form.

Malcolm wanted to reach for her, he wanted to grasp her and find anchoring in her. Her beautiful face was calm and peaceful, seemingly unaware of anything else that was happening around them. There was a touch of a smile on her full lips and her crystalline eyes hadn’t moved from him. Malcolm tried to form her name, but his mouth felt dry and powdery, unable to speak. He fought to lift his hand toward her and finally saw his own fingers nearing her cheek. Just as they grazed her skin, Icelyn’s face melted away, replaced by the blood red mask of the Order.

Breath filled Malcolm’s lungs so suddenly that they hurt as he sat sharply upright and clutched at his chest, trying to rid himself of the feeling of the smoke closing in. He gasped, trying to breath, trying to calm himself, and looked around. Disoriented, it took a moment to reconcile what he had just been seeing with what he was seeing now. It was shadowy in the room, but not the intimidating shadows of his dream. Instead, these were the quiet, blanketing shadows of deep, still night. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he could see a figure in front of him. Within seconds he realized that it was Icelyn. He hesitated, not wanting to trust that it was truly her, afraid that if he even moved, she would melt away just as her image had in her dream.

Icelyn tilted her head at him, seeming to question his reaction to her, and Malcolm realized that it really was her, that he had finally pulled himself out of the dream and she was actually there, sitting on the edge of the chair beside the couch where he slept. Though Malcolm had assumed that there was a second bedroom down the hallway from the living room, he quickly learned that it was used for storage and that there was nowhere it in for him to sleep, leaving him to find as much comfort as he could on the couch in the open living area. Fortunately, the furniture was soft and wide enough to accommodate his body without much hassle. For that moment he was particularly thankful that he wasn’t Denynso, because he knew that the tremendous size of the warriors would never be able to fit onto the couch.

Malcolm pulled himself up into a half-seated position and shook his head, trying to shake free of the foggy thoughts that were still swelling inside it and bring himself totally into reality.

“Are you alright?” Icelyn asked.

Malcolm nodded.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just a nightmare.”

Icelyn nodded as if she understood all too well what it was like to be tortured in sleep. Malcolm took a breath and immediately was hit by the scent of something sweet. He looked toward the kitchen and saw an orange glow coming from within the oven.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Icelyn admitted. “I came out here to make something to eat.” She glanced over at the kitchen. “It actually should be just about ready.”

She walked over to the oven and leaned down, grabbing a cloth from the counter beside it to protect her hand from what was inside. A moment later she straightened and slipped a pan onto the top of the oven. The sweet smell became stronger and Malcolm could identify hints of different flavors inside of it. It was unlike anything that he had ever smelled before, but his mouth watered. Icelyn reached up into a cabinet and withdrew two plates. She placed a scoop of what was in the pan on each, took up two forks from a shallow dish on the counter, and turned back to him. Taking her position on the edge of the chair again, she offered one of the plates to him.

“Thank you,” he said. He looked down at the plate, evaluating what looked like thick, pale bread dotted with brown and covered with a crumbly layer. “What is this?”

Icelyn gave a soft laugh and Malcolm felt his heart swell unexpectedly. She had taken a bite of the food and smiled through chewing and swallowing it.

“It’s probably not the healthiest of things that I could make to eat in the middle of the night. It’s my favorite dessert. My mother used to make it when I was really little. I found the recipe for it a few years ago and I’ve been trying to master it ever since.”

Malcolm took a bite and felt his entire body react to the rich, spicy sweetness of the treat.

“Well, even if you haven’t mastered it,” he said. “That’s incredible.”

Icelyn took another bite and nodded.

“Thank you. I thought that you looked like you could use something comforting.”

Malcolm offered a weak smile, feeling a strange pain in his heart from the sentiment. He looked down at his plate and shifted the food around on it with his fork for a few moments before lifting his head and looking at her again.

“What did you mean when you said that you know who I am?” he asked.

Icelyn looked at him sharply and he couldn’t decipher if she was upset by the question or just unnerved that she would have to answer it.

“What?” she asked.

“When we were in the meeting hall. When you first came in there to get me. You said that it was alright that I didn’t know who you were because you know who I am, like I could trust you to give me shelter and protection while we’re still here because you know who I am. What did you mean by that? I mean, I know that Athan told you that I need help, but how much did he tell you?”

He hadn’t meant to be so abrupt with her. Their alliance was still so new, and he was still so uneasy about the interaction. He didn’t want to upset her, not just because he didn’t want her to withdraw her offer to help him and leave him vulnerable to the Order, but also because the feelings that were starting inside him were telling him that the last thing that he would want to do was hurt or upset her. While he was doing everything that he could to push those feelings away and not concentrate on them, Malcolm couldn’t help but feel them trying to control his thoughts and actions. He knew that Athan had to have given her some information about him or she wouldn’t have been so willing to bring him into her home to provide him protection. There was something about her, however, that told Malcolm that she knew more about him and this situation than others might think. She had asked no questions of him, but seemed fully committed to helping him, leaving Malcolm to wonder how much of his recent defection from the Order was really his choice, and how much had already been foreseen.