A Song For Earth and Sky

Camren felt his heart thumping so wildly that he was sure he must be shaking. There, standing above him, in the heart of Ferns, stood a Starborn"¦ and not just any mage. He was clearly of one of the upper houses, his crest of a green dragon on a circular field of silver was emblazoned proudly on his cloak. High dark boots of some sort of leather reached just above his knees, where his black trousers appeared, only to disappear a few inches later under the hem of his silken black tunic, belted loosely around the waist with an intricate silver chain.

"Would you perhaps remove your person so that I might attend to the girl?" he snapped in a low booming voice. Without a thought, Camren scampered away, like the cowed farmhand he had been only a month before.

The mage glared at him for a moment before shifting his intent black eyes down to the girl. With one smooth movement he flipped his cloak back over his shoulders and went down to one knee, wincing almost imperceptibly, as if he were injured or recovering from an injury. In moments of extreme distress, like that one, our minds notice the strangest things"”Camren saw that the mage had a different emblem on the left breast of his tunic: a black silhouette of a man with arms outstretched before a rising white sun, with sharp rays shooting off from it. He found it strange for a man to wear two crests"”it implied, at least in the world of the Earthborn, an inability to be fully loyal to one House, country, or cause.

But suddenly, Camren had more pressing things with which to engage his mind. The mage slowly placed his hands, palms down, just above the girl's head, and began to murmur under his breath. Her hair began to flutter gently on the pavement, as if a light wind were teasing it"”but there was no draft in this castle, Camren realized with a chill. Carefully the mage moved his hands downwards over the girl's form, her loose garments flapping, faster and faster, against her limp and awkwardly splayed body. Camren felt his own blood red cape whipping around his face, and he trembled to realize what raw power was being wielded in this room.

And then it stopped. The mage moved his hands once more over her body, never touching her, until he seemed satisfied.

"The girl is healed. She will need much rest after having been exposed to so much magic, but otherwise, she will be well," the mage remarked indifferently as he rose. Without another word he spun on his heels, his black cloak billowing, and strode away.

"Wait!" cried Camren as he regained his ability to speak. "Might I ask your name, my Lord, so that she may one day thank me?"

The Starborn, stopped, but did not turn back.

"I am High Lord Severus Lanzer Snape, Keeper of Castle Killraiane, a member of the Third Order of the Dawn, Healer, and"¦ and Potions Master at the Uriel Academy in
Stargard." Camren rose to his feet, less shakily than he would have a few days before, and offered a low bow.

"Delorien thanks you, High Lord," he said formally. Snape turned ever so slightly to peer down at the young man over his shoulder.

"And who are you to offer thanks on behalf of a kingdom?" he questioned coldly.

"I am Camren Rand, Delorien Prince of the Sword," the young man announced, a little louder than was absolutely necessary. The mage raised his eyebrow.

"I see." And then the mage continued his walk from the bottom of the stairs.

"I wonder," he murmured softly, "If she will be grateful in the end that I saved her life this night." But Camren did not hear him.

*
Yet, Grigory thought darkly. "Yes, Sire, we are ready," he replied in as neutral a tone as he could manage, under the circumstances.

"Excellent," Adri announced, a smile splitting his gray, aging face. "I do believe that"”"

A scream from Argonas cut him off. The man crumpled to the floor, clutched his chest, and writhed violently. His face contorted grotesquely and his narrow, pensive mouth opened wide in a silent scream. The Sword Princes watched him in unmoving terror, confusion billowing across their faces. They had absolutely no idea what was going on.

But the Lion of Delorien did. And that knowledge made his brave, aging heart quicken dangerously.

There was powerful magic being channeled nearby, and, if it continued, it would kill all former, denounced magi within a hundred miles.

Which, Ardri realized just as the pain in his left arm moved to his chest, would mean Argonas would die.

Forgive me, he thought as he tumbled from his throne, to the ground where Argonas was bucking with pain. Forgive me, Delorien, for allowing her to live. Oh my people, forgive me.

He spoke the words only in his mind, and only Argonas heard them in the depths of his agony.

By the next morning, only one man alive remembered those words.

*
Darkness. Then a deep, pulsating beat. Then an engulfing brightness she had seen only in her dreams. Then quiet, as she felt something moving above her. Then a low sound of voices, as if from a very long away. Then gentle hands touching her face, lifting her up. Movement. Her eyes fluttered open, but the pain in her head was too great. A warm chest, a quick heartbeat, soft words of encouragement whispered through her hair. Then a soft bed, blankets around her, startled voices, hands prodding at her gently, tears on her face that were not her own, a warm cloth on her forehead, and sleep.

She did not awaken until she heard a low, menacing call. Bleary eyed and sleepy, but otherwise well, Hermione sat up in her bed and looked out her window. A storm raged outside, and lightning flashing her room into an eerie semblance of daylight every few seconds. Hail pounded on the glass, and she worried that it might break.

Just then, a tall man appeared at the foot of her bed. Her heart leapt into her throat and she tried to scream in terror, but no sound would escape her throat. She clutched the blankets to her chest and felt tears of unbearable fear trickle down her cheeks.

"Stop your sniveling, girl. I cast a silencing charm on you so you couldn't scream and bring your parents running, but I have no intention of hurting you. Here, the charm is lessened. You may speak, but nothing above a whisper."

"Who"¦ who are you?" Hermione stammered quietly.

"I am a Starborn mage who was given the unfortunate task of rescuing you," the man replied sharply.

"A"¦ Starborn? "¦. Here? In"¦ Delorien?"

"You're quick," he snapped. Hermione felt her face flush. And then, a thought occurred to her.

"You said you were rescuing me. What from?" The mage smiled, only a flash of white in the dark.

"The Keruan army. They are attacking Ferns as we speak."

"What?" Hermione tried to yell as she leapt to her feet. But, true to his word, the sound came out as a loud whisper.

"But"¦ why save me? I'm just an Earthborn servant. Why"¦ why"¦ are you"¦"

"Because you aren't actually the mud-dweller you think you are. You, like I, are Starborn."

Hermione found it very, very difficult to breathe.