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Riding along the currents of his mind's streams and rivers, he tried to gain purchase from any passing crag or rock. Terjal felt his gut clench with each missing grab. Soon he would tumble over the frothy bend of a waterfall and his consciousness would break into thousands of unrecoverable pieces. In the distance Terjal saw a small figure on the banks, arms outstretched and imploring, black hair floating about a pale oval face as if underwater. Aiya. Terjal wanted to get his hands free of the current and wave her away, for she seemed poised to dive into it. Soon her body bent and dropped, fingers splayed and pointing toward the rushing water, cutting through the surface like a warm knife through butter. Terjal saw Aiya's head pop through the shiny surface, her mouth opening and closing for breath--or perhaps to offer encouragement--which, he could not say. Soon her face was near his, her strong arms curving about his waist, hauling him up. No! he cried. I'm too heavy for you--you'll never make it safely to the shore with me in tow! But she shook her head, eyes blinking the water away. Terjal closed his eyes again in supplication to Aiya's determination. When at last he opened his eyes he felt his robe drying as he lay on parched land. A warm tingling started on his face, chest, arm and leg--as if his cells were being put back in their proper places, repaired. Aiya's face hung above him, a smile rounding her full lips, eyes moist as she gazed down at him. Terjal allowed sleep to overtake him a final time, for he knew now that he would awaken soon and find his way to the solid world. ### In a shuddering spasm Terjal was awake at last. Really awake. Terjal tried to sit up, his robe heavy with the perspiration of fever, the cot beneath him sodden as well. His left arm and right leg were stiff with a dull ache that seemed to pulse beneath his skin. His chest felt bruised, yet when he passed a hand over it he felt not a single lump or abrasion. He knew he'd been wounded during the fight with the creature, but had only been aware of intense pain and that the injuries must have been severe. All else was nothing more than a murmur running through his unconscious mind. Terjal was suddenly aware of the faint rushing sound of a distant furnace bellows telling him that his bedside companion was asleep. He knew without turning to look that it was Aiya lying on the cot next to him, slumber-ridden: her mind no doubt spiraling through the maze of a dreamworld. Slowly he turned his sore, healing body to face her fully. Aiya, her features fully relaxed and childlike beneath the peaceful ministrations of sleep, rubbed a cheek against the back of her hand like a cat. Terjal watched as an occasional dream-twitch plucked fitfully at her eyelids. Had she observed him thusly as he was held in the vise of his own unconsciousness? And had she thought that he appeared childlike, curled within the husk of his own repose? We must all sleep like children, Terjal thought wistfully. But there should be no shame in that. Slowly the thickness of fatigue began to expand within his brain, swelling it like a sponge grown heavy with the saturation of water. Carefully, he eased his head back upon the creased pillow. His eyes closed voluntarily this time. Now he needed rest: the real, imposed rest required to rebuild his strength. If only he might have wakened Aiya to tell her that he would be sleeping now, no need to worry, for he would surely wake up on his own. But he couldn't bear to see her thrash awake--wouldn't disturb her serene slumber. ### The dreams came at Aiya like placards describing all that had passed. Aiya saw the gleaming, curved fangs of the beast diving toward her, puncturing the air between itself and her flesh. She saw herself scrabbling backward against the hard white snow, her legs churning the ice into frozen dust. An immense clover-shaped paw pushed her right shoulder hard, the needle-sharp points of the claws bringing flecks of bright scarlet through the fabric of her shredded tunic. Then the searing pain as her torso was nearly sliced open, more red strips soaking through her tunic, the rough fabric splayed submissively. Aiya kept her gaze fixed upon the dull, plum colored eyes of her attacker. Something bright and ephemeral flashed within the amethyst depths--something she'd glimpsed long ago. Its discovery momentarily delivered her from the pain of her wounds as she clawed through her memory. Before she could focus on the unfolding clue, a claw ripped a trench through her leg and she screamed-- --And screamed herself awake and into the solid world. Aiya sat up, breathing raggedly, her arms hugging her folded knees. She felt the oily trickle of sweat as it skated along her temples and filled the creases of her eyelids. As she calmed herself, she realized that the dull throb of her wounds had ceased. She allowed a small, halting smile as she inspected her abdomen and leg: the powders had worked. She turned to look at Terjal. The conjurer's face was peaceful and his body slack as it pressed into the bedding; intermittently he rubbed his cheek against the pillow. Aiya's mouth lengthened in a slow smile. He's no longer unconscious, but placidly asleep. Gently Aiya placed her hands upon his chest, her fingers sifting through the curl of dark red hair, searching for signs of lingering unhealed wounds and finding only the smoothness of healthy flesh. Then she stroked the full length of Terjal's arm and found that the nub of jutting bone had tucked itself back beneath skin and muscles, mended and strong again. The gash that had been carved into Terjal's leg was gone as well. Aiya turned her attention back to the conjurer's sleeping face. Sleep creased Terjal's mouth into a downward slant which occasionally crept upward for a brief moment. His auburn eyebrows met, curving like two battling caterpillars as he frowned intermittently within his slumber. Aiya felt the irresistible tug at her heart again and it drove the tips of her fingers to trace Terjal's brow, then down the curved plane of his face, and finally to his lips. As she sketched the outline of his mouth, Aiya felt something crackle between them at the connection--a thin, nearly invisible needle of lightening seared her mind with coruscating thoughts of--love? Yes, love. Aiya's eyes gazed at the ceiling for a moment as if seeking a rebuttal there. But what else can this be that raps against my heart like a crazed prisoner? She couldn't deny any longer that such feeling didn't--couldn't--exist within her. After eight years of confining herself in Lord Vaukmond's court, whispering advice in the Duke's ear in front of courtiers of dubious allegiance; of weeding out sorcerers who might undermine Lord Vaukmond's will and discerning their weaknesses; of spurning the many suitors who laid their own hearts in her path, she had not been successful in suppressing her true feelings, for they continued to bubble upward until she tamped them down. Eight years of longing for only one man, and the very one she needed to avoid, had always been Terjal Rakmir. Now closer to him than she'd ever been during her days at Cloudreach, here lying beside her was the very object of that bittersweet longing. Aiya felt the euphoric sweetness of it swell within her until it spilled over, bathing her with a tingling anxiousness. Her heart seemed to expand as the dam within her resolve began to crack and dissolve--until it seemed her chest would no longer contain its beating insistence. She couldn't lie to herself any longer, the acknowledgment of her true feelings for Terjal coming hard and fast through her fingertips, her mouth. Her will finally shattered to fine dust, Aiya bent to touch her lips to Terjal's becalmed brow, the light warm vapor of breath from his nostrils caressing her chin. She grazed her lips along his narrow nose, hesitating as they hovered above his mouth. She smoothed her palms against Terjal's angular jaw, and gifted his mouth with a light, lingering kiss. What am I doing? Aiya thought, drawing back suddenly as if a serpent were about to strike her. Yet she knew well what she was doing, for the door within her mind that held back such feelings was too heavy to close now, and she was too tired to even try. She had hefted its weight for little more than eight years and now it was stuck half open. I might as well shove it all the way open, for I will surely never get it closed again. And it was too late after all, for Terjal's eyes were opening and in them Aiya saw the truth reflected back. ### The thin wedge of light sliced into Terjal's eyelids as he willed his eyes to open. I think I've slept long enough, Terjal thought hazily. It is well time to see what has passed during my absence of consciousness. He did remember, however, that he was now at Cloudreach--and knew with solid certainty that he was no longer dreaming. In his crowding repose he'd imagined his rescue merely a desperate dream--that he was still lying in the snow, his wounds slowly draining the life from his body. But he was sure where his body now lay. Waking him were the light pat of butterfly feet upon his chest and face. The tiny feet left moist footprints wherever they touched. Unusual butterfly, Terjal smiled through the gauze of drowse. But when he felt the warm cushion of soft hands smooth upon his cheeks, he knew. Knew that the tender ministrations were Aiya's doing. And so Terjal willed his eyes to completely open, flinging sleep from his mind as a dog shakes water from its flanks. His eyelids now parted sufficiently, he gazed up at Aiya. One long, thick jet strand slipped from her shoulder and swung like a heavy bell-pull, grazing his cheek and leaving behind a sweet, prickling tingle and the rush of herbal scent from her hair. For a few heartbeats neither said a word, both grateful for the other's wakefulness. "How long...?" Terjal's voice, hoarse from disuse and fatigue, faded into a slight gargle. He cleared his voice with a quick rumbling deep in his throat, impatient to get the words out. "How long have I--have we--been here?" Aiya's gaze never shifted from Terjal's face as she spoke. "I've been awake longer than you, yet I can't say for certain how much time has passed." Her shoulders rolled in an almost casual shrug. "A day, perhaps." Terjal studied Aiya's face, keeping this examination discreet. She seems changed somehow...as if from some inner revelation that she is eager to reveal. Aiya's eyes now held a tender, doe--like softness around the leaf green edges of her irises, as they held his stare in place. Was it the struggle--and eventual success--of spell traveling the both of us to Cloudreach? No, his mind countered the patronizing thoughts--for it seemed something deeper, and it both frightened and excited him. Aiya's own probing stare abruptly broke away from his returning, querying gaze. She took a deep breath and now spoke to the far wall. "Terjal, there is something that I must tell you--in the event that we not survive this quest." Her words bespoke now of the old nervousness, the tone outlined with a kind of determined anxiousness. Then she swiveled her gaze to meet Terjal's squarely, the softness gathering in her eyes again. "It is a thing which has haunted me for the last eight years." Terjal seemed to feel the words before they met the air between them; perhaps he'd always known those words would arrive one day. Somehow he'd known from nearly the beginning of this quest that Aiya's uneasiness in his presence translated into something more real and defined--beyond doubts about her spellcasting abilities. But he decided then to let her say the words he was certain were lying upon her tongue, waiting to slip out and touch him with a familiar anticipated sadness--and so his own tongue lay silent in his mouth. Aiya looked in every direction like a bird searching for predators in the sky, now avoiding a direct look at Terjal as she finally found the words. "I'm--I've always been--in...love with you." The words were choked with painful hesitation, but she finally looked squarely at him, a bud of relief seeming to bloom in her green eyes now that the words were gone from her, irretrievable. Even though he'd hoped for--even half expected--those very words, Terjal still felt a small wave of shock crest within his heart. Aiya's admission had connected solidly with his own deeply buried feelings and longings for her. For as each year was replaced by another since her abrupt departure long ago, he had tried to drown his own emotions in an lake of ambiguity. But now as the impact of Aiya's declaration soaked into him, the dam of vagueness he'd taken such care to build finally broke, sweeping his own resolve completely away. Terjal sat upright now, facing her, his hands reaching to grasp her shoulders. Gently he began to knead the taut muscles beneath Aiya's torn and bloodied tunic, trying somehow to convey his reaction through his fingers: I understand. Then, looking into her eyes--eyes which had become wary at his sudden reticence--Terjal at last spoke, his words rapid. "I've a late confession of my own--and a question. First the confession: I love you as well--from the first class you attended to this very moment and, if we do not perish, even beyond this moment shall I love you. I've tried every conjuring trick I know to suppress these feelings, yet nothing has ever worked. It seems the Master of Cloudreach actually has a spell he cannot accomplish." Pausing for a breath, he added, "And now the question: Why have you always avoided me? Perhaps I wouldn't have had to expend so much energy hammering down my yearnings for you had you confronted me." The last sentence bitten off, afraid that he sounded terse with complaint--but he'd run out of steam, was exhausted. Aiya's gaze dove to her hands which were now tightly clasped together as if she were sheltering some delicate object from harm. "I could no longer face you, feeling as I did." The words seemed etched in a stone of emotion: rigid and permanent. "That is the real reason I left Cloudreach as soon as the Final Trials were finished." Taking a slow, deep breath, her stare still locked upon her folded hands, she continued. "And another reason: I knew my powers were increasing; I felt the energy surging through my fingertips during each succeeding conjuration exercise. I was afraid that I'd eventually become too skillful at spell casting and would soon become...your rival." Her eyes, sharply verdant and unrepentant, met Terjal's squarely. "I could never be a rival to the one I loved." Terjal felt a sudden blade of relief carve away the worries, doubts and self-blame that had coated him through the years of Aiya's absence. He'd always believed that he'd done something improper--that somehow a sliver of thought containing his attraction for her had slipped the boundary of the shield he'd placed in his mind, thus frightening her away and into the Duke's servitude. With Aiya's exceptional conjuration talents he had expected to induct her into the coterie of mage spellcasters immediately upon graduation--but she had made her escape before the idea could be presented to her. And, with her leave-taking so obviously clandestine, what else could he surmise, but to assume her fearful of him? Wracked with a guilt made worse by Aiya's marked avoidance of him whenever he was summoned to an audience with Lord Vaukmond, he had decided to live an ascetic life--vowing to let not a single stray thought of love nor passion slither through the tiniest crawlspace within his mind. When Terjal did not immediately reply, Aiya's face lost a touch of self-confidence as her eyes searched for a response in his expression. Noting her confusion, Terjal hurriedly replied, "A good rival is welcome, I've always felt. You could have spared me some of the pressures of being a spellcaster on demand by standing in my stead from time to time." Now it was Terjal who bent his gaze to study his own hands clasped upon his lap. "For the last eight years, however, I've managed to persecute myself for something I'd only suspected I'd done. Now it appears such blame was unfounded all along." "I tried to tell you..." "When? You'd never approached me until a few weeks ago--until then you'd always managed to be elsewhere whenever Lord Vaukmond summoned me to Honor's Start." Terjal was surprised at the sudden surge of anger defining his words; he hadn't realized the extent to which he'd suppressed his feelings. "Aiya, I've spent eight years wondering what I'd done to you! Your avoidance's of me were just too consistent to be mere coincidence--you took care that your Assistant Adjutant stood at the Duke's side during each of my audiences with His Grace. How else should I have felt?" Now Aiya's almond shaped eyes began to fill with the hurt transferred from his own. "And you don't realize the agony I felt knowing you were at Honor's Start and I couldn't face you. Of course I knew you were bound to wonder--but I had to trust that you'd understand somehow..." Aiya shook her head slowly as the words were stilled in her mouth, her gaze slanting away from his. "I'm sorry for all of those years you spent blaming yourself for something you'd not done--but I've suffered as well. I have my own guilt to sort out, regrets piling up in my mind like kindling to be burned. My confession is late, but it is also...sincere. What more can I offer you in contrition?" Terjal began to feel the spike of his anger dulled. Indeed, what more can she do than offer an apology? Of course she's felt pain--I can blame myself for ignoring that possibility. Terjal reached out a hand to cup Aiya's chin, drawing her to him. "No more confessions and no more apologies--only this," he said as he leaned his face toward hers and kissed her lightly upon the lips, lingering a bit before drawing back for her reaction. A glaze of warmth seemed to drift across Aiya's eyes as she regarded Terjal from beneath the shade of her jet eyelashes. A slow smile drew the corners of her mouth upward as her lips began to part, inviting him. She drew a slim forefinger along his jaw, moving it along his chin till it traced across his lips. Terjal gently grasped her hand and kissed each finger gratefully, his eyes never leaving hers. When he released his hold upon her hand, she slid her palm along his neck and drew his face to hers. Their foreheads met tenderly for a moment, smiles reflecting each other's for the simple pleasure of finally being allowed to touch. Terjal's fingers stroked Aiya's chin, then her cheek; she closed her eyes and leaned into his caresses. With his fingers now splayed in a net of tenderness upon Aiya's cheeks, he brought his lips to hers once again. This time their mouths remained locked as if they feared that the slightest parting might send them each to separate destinies. As Terjal felt Aiya's hands skim his shoulders then hook her arms round his neck in a tight embrace, he felt joy bloom deep within the soil of his soul. As he continued to taste the sweetness of Aiya's lips, he was amazed at how well his heart could respond to so open an offering of love. He'd thought such feelings had been buried so far beneath the surface of the few emotions he regularly displayed, that they would surely have long ago withered away. Now he was pleased to see that he was capable of enjoying the sensation of being loved, and that he could return it in kind. When he began to feel the tingle stirring deep down in the more neglected part of himself, Terjal felt a jolting hesitation urge him to stop, to pull away. But the irresistible stabs of pleasure Aiya's touch wrought upon his starved flesh drove such warnings to a farther region of his mind. He'd gone so long without the comfort of human intimacy, the drift of soft fingertips upon his skin making his heart flutter with the weakness of mutual love, that discipline was nothing more than an irritating scold. But the conjurer in Terjal Rakmir won in the end as discipline shook its reproachful, wagging finger in his face. Reluctantly Terjal drew himself from Aiya's embrace. A look of embarrassed confusion passed over Aiya's face as she leaned away from him. Terjal grasped both of her hands as they raised in puzzled suspension before her, and brought them, sheltered between his own hands, to his chest. "We can't go any farther," he said, breathless, the words wrenched from his throat. "We cannot afford to expend any more...energy." Relief at not having been spurned after all, seemed to flood into Aiya's eyes. Looking up at the ceiling for a moment and shaking her head, she replied, "Of course you're right." Then, looking at him directly and smiling, "Terjal Rakmir: pragmatic even in the face of ardor." Terjal smiled as he fingered a black silken strand of Aiya's hair. "And considering that this has been my first attempt at attaining passion in a long time, even I am in awe of my own talent at restraint. Besides, the only appetite we need to satisfy now is the one prodding our bellies." The thought of food brought something else to a boil in Terjal's mind. Something he'd snatched from the creature during the assault upon it. "Lattice of Heavens! The handful of fur from the beast!" he blurted without preamble to a startled Aiya. He began to frantically pat each emptied bag hanging from his belt. "I pulled a hank of it from the creature..." When he looked up, Aiya held a small pouch out to him. "While you were unconscious I placed the fur in this for safe-keeping--I knew you had purpose in taking it. In all the excitement, I nearly forgot about it." Terjal plucked the pouch from Aiya's fingers and gingerly pulled at the drawstring. Nestled within the small pouch was a greying thatch of fur, once brilliantly white at the time of its harvesting, now dulling quickly without its continual supply of the beast's fresh blood. Terjal rose from the cot, bringing the brown pouch of fur to a table set along a wall. Upending the pouch, Terjal shook its contents carefully onto the table's scarred and whorled surface. Without looking at Aiya, his gaze trained upon the clump of fur, Terjal said, "There is a large vial--purple and amber swirls within it--upon the shelf nearest the door. Bring it to me quickly." Terjal heard the squeak of the cot as Aiya sprang from it, then the clink of glass as she removed the requested vial from the shelf. Within a heartbeat the vial was fitted into Terjal's hand and he began to slowly pour its contents in a slow orbit over the fur. Terjal began to fan his hands, palms down, in flat, alternating circles over the now smoldering pile of fur. Soon a thick veil of smoke rose from the fur, weaving itself into a slowly defining shape. Terjal and Aiya moved closer to it, examining every blurred detail. The figure of a man began to form, though no facial features coalesced. The smoke-sculpted man's waist twisted and his head tilted upward, swiveling around as if he knew he were being watched. Terjal and Aiya knelt down, their fingers gripping the edge of the tabletop, in order to get a closer look. Aiya frowned. "During the attack, as the creature was bent over me, I could have sworn I'd glimpsed something in its eyes--an intelligence apart from any that the beast might have possessed. And something else." Her words drifted as she shook her head once, then nodded as she turned to Terjal. "Yes...it was a kind of...recognition. The thing behind the creature's eyes seemed to know my identity somehow." Terjal's gaze turned quickly away from the smoke-figure, his eyes studying Aiya's excited expression. "Did you recognize anything in the creature?" Aiya nibbled her full lower lip, considering. "I did sense a vague perception, but nothing tangible--nothing I could grasp and turn into anything I could clearly define. Even now," she studied the smoke-figure shimmering in the wan light of the chamber, "as I look at this...person...I can sense what I felt during the attack." She shook her head again in frustration. "I just know I've been in his presence before--where I'm not certain, nor how long ago." Terjal moved his face closer to the smoke-figure, his gaze traveling over its gauzy surface, cataloguing what little detail he might discover. He was beginning to feel a sense of recognition as well--but like Aiya, was unable to even guess who this spellcaster might be, let alone where he'd last encountered him. As Terjal continued to study the figure, he felt tongues of vivid hatred licking his own mind, then retreating quickly like a cowed and cuffed dog. Terjal tried to catch at the emotions, but they bit back the tendrils of his thoughts before he could get a firm grasp and pull the rogue emotion in. The smoke-figure was beginning to lose its shape as wisps of smoke from it began to dissolve into the air. "Either my spell is weakening," Terjal said with dismay, "or our errant spellcaster has discovered our eavesdropping." He began to pour more of the purple and amber liquid upon the damp fur. "If we can't identify this spellcaster, we can at least find out where he is." Terjal's cupped palms waved the thinning smoke toward him and he closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he crossed his arms tightly upon his chest. Soon visions and sensations came flickering into his mind's view: a dank, sour smell surrounded him and he saw rotted vines choking blighted trees; he smelled the sulfuric stench of stagnant water; he heard chitinous clicks and tearing screams; he saw the curve of bleached bones stuck in moist, blackened soil-- Terjal opened his eyes suddenly. The smoke-figure was completely gone; only the damp, moldy smell of charged air hung over the now congealed scrap of fur. He turned again to an intently staring Aiya. "Aiya--he's in the Grip."
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