And Diur took to his task of maintaining balance within the cosmos. After Earoni formed the world of Geiha for her children to live upon, Diur opened his claw and produced the sun and set into motion the path of Geiha about it.

Book of the Gods 1:10

"Are you sure she's out there?" Gregory knelt behind a large fallen oak along with Reane. They'd spent the day trekking all over the northernmost and uninhabited island of Fimmirra and its various terrains. He was just glad to be somewhere other than the scorching sun and the hot wasteland to the south. Even if the humidity of the forest wasn't much better.

"She's out there." Reane looked over her shoulder as she whispered. "If there's one thing Sheala's good at, it's stalking." Checking the blunt-tipped bolt in her crossbow, she confirmed the paint on it was still wet.

"So where is she? We haven't seen a sign of her since we took out Brentai hours ago." A flock of birds darted out of the trees high above, causing Gregory to tense and lock onto them until he realized they weren't a threat.

"When Anthony gets back, I'm hoping he'll have an answer to that question. He claims to be good at tracking. And I guess we'll find out if it's true." She cocked the string of her weapon after resetting it.

Gregory relaxed as the previous startle wore off and he didn't hear any further unusual sounds. "I must admit, this really isn't my element."

"Now you realize how Sheala feels when she's sparing with you."

The brush to Gregory's left rustled, and he jumped again. Anthony emerged and plopped himself down next to Reane, leaving Gregory disgusted with himself for being so on edge.

Anthony explained what he found. "There's a set of tracks to the west. They're fresh but also too big to belong to Sheala."

"Her uncle?"

"That'd be my guess." Now it was Anthony who checked his weapon. "They've obviously split up. I made it all the way to the base of the volcano and didn't catch a sign of Sheala."

Reane smiled at Gregory. "I told you; she's good."

"The King's no slouch either," Gregory said. "Before the blockades became too tight, he used to hunt Dragon Lizards in the Borderlands. Though I thought he might be a little rusty."

"Well, we know she's not to the west. Can you go check the east again, Gregory?"

"No problem, Reane." He stood, performed an examination of his surroundings, and was off, making more than his share of noise.

Anthony followed with his eyes as Gregory vanished into the brush, but waited until he left to speak. "He will lead them right to us, Reane."

She smiled, hearing him use her name. It had taken a while, but he'd finally stopped calling her only 'Captain'. "Sometimes the best way to catch a shark is to dangle a fish." As Anthony peered into the forest, Reane wished she could access his mind. She still couldn't. She'd tried, but had never been successful since the day of the archeon attack. Besides, Reane knew all she needed to about him through picking Brenta's less resistant brain. That method was a lot less stressful. To her, all she really cared about was finding out how he felt about her, and she believed she had the answer already.

At times she would catch Anthony staring at her only to turn away as she looked at him. Based on what she found out indirectly through reading Brentai's thoughts, there was at least something there, although it seemed Anthony would not directly admit it.

As her concentration began to wonder, a loud thwack echoed through the trees. Then Gregory called out in a painful, moaning cry. Reane required a second to get to her feet, startled by the suddenness. Anthony was already off into the woods before she could even recover from her self-imposed distraction.

"No-" Reane called out, but realized her voice carried as she tried to stop him. "Don't go after him," she muttered softly. "That's exactly what Sheala wants. Damn."

Against her better judgement, Reane followed. She moved with as much caution as her speed would allow in the direction Anthony had gone. It was not long before she came upon both men. Anthony stood over Gregory, the latter grabbing his leg as he writhed on the ground. The blue paint on his trousers was clear as day, and Reane saw the source was a sapling rigged to act as a whip trap.

"Damn." Reane swore again as she readied her weapon. "Any sign of her?"

Anthony looked up into the canopy of leaves. "She can't be far. And I'm sure she heard him a mile away."

"At least she could have designed something a little less painful," Gregory growled.

"Can you make it back to the beach?"

"Yeah." He stood with a ginger caution on his sore leg.

"Then go." Reane ordered him as she scanned the area with efficient care. "She's just toying with us." The Captain kept her eyes moving, watching, seeking any sign of their opponent. A twitch of movement at the base of a tree caught her eye. "And that is her one failure." Reane was cautious, but also swift as she took careful aim and launched her bolt. The strike was a bullseye, but any joy she might have taken in her aim quickly faded as a sneer crossed her face. The only thing she had neutralized was a piece of cloth, now obvious for the distraction it was. "Well, that's not good." Reane began reloading.

An enemy bolt came from her left, striking Anthony dead in the chest. The attack felled him, leaving yet another of their team neutralized as his choice words regarding the pain resonated throughout the forrest. Gregory had barely moved, but froze and put his hands up to signal his surrender, realizing he would not get away in his condition.

It was at that moment Reane felt something by her ear and Sheala mocked her, holding her weapon at her friend. "You were saying?"

Reane stopped trying to reload, accepted her loss, and dropped the crossbow into the leaf covered the ground. "I surrender. you win."

"Really? You're not even going to at least try to disarm me? Oh well." For added emphasis, Sheila brushed the paint from the tip of her bolt across Reane's shirt a little harder than was necessary.

King Turon stumbled out of the woods wearing a green hunting tunic and thick leather boots. Visibly out of breath, he hunched over to catch it.

"Great shot, uncle." Sheala discharged her own crossbow into the ground with a twang of the string.

Anthony stood, clutching his chest. "I can't believe this is what you call a sport."

"If there wasn't some deterrent to losing, what would be the point?" Just to show she was a good sport, Sheala helped Gregory steady himself on his sore leg. "The three of you make more noise than a herd of Teren Boars. Even my uncle makes less."

"I'm a little rusty." Reane pleaded as she looked up to see the sun was dropping low through the canopy of leaves. "We'd better get back to the ship if we want to set sail for the main island tonight."

"Not up for another round? I think a night hunt would make it an even greater thrill."

King Turon leaned heavily on a nearby tree. "I know I'm not. You just have far too much energy for me."

Sheala scowled, not wanting the day's entertainment to end. "I guess we might as well head back then. Wouldn't want all you little girls to be out in the scary dark."

Candles lit on the desk in her private quarters, Reane extinguish the match with a shake and the scent of roses filled the air as incense burned. At her request, Halan, the ship's cook, whipped up a special meal of roasted lamb and steamed fresh vegetables. She fussed with the positioning of both plates and sets of silverware. With a final tweak to the position of the fork beside the platter opposite hers, she allowed herself a second to admire her handiwork. In her eyes, everything was perfect.

She tugged down on her the worn leather of her vest, adjusting its fit. Standing there, the large window to her back, the Oracle's smooth motion through the calm seas relaxed her. Reane only wanted to focus on tonight and nothing else as she cleared all other distractions from her mind and constructed barriers to prevent any unwanted intrusion. Concerns about all her past attempts and relationships that never worked out came to her like a tidal wave and for a moment filled her with doubt. But this time, she knew, would be different. She just had to be bold and make the first move with Anthony.

Even though Reane still couldn't read Anthony's thoughts, she'd been picking Brentai's brain long enough to have confidence there was a definite interest in her on Anthony's part. And all those pieces she'd collected painted a story of a man who only needed a little nudge towards opening up to her.

Another two hours remained before they docked back at the main island, and those few hours were plenty of time to indulge in things other than Sheala's training. First, they would discuss a little, what she considered trivial business; then it would be time for her to focus on them.

Footsteps clapped up the steps and stopped outside on the wood of the ship's deck before a knock reverberated on the door. "Reane?"

Every time he spoke her name, it made her heart lighten. "Come in."

As the door opened, he stood there, taking in the scene. "Brentai mentioned you wanted to discuss some logistics with me?"

"Yes." Reane sported a slight grin. It was more for herself, but she was fully aware it was visible. "Won't you have a seat?" She motioned and the man she'd met in Catersburg took up the chair opposite of her's behind the desk.

"What's all this?"

"Do you like it? Something I had Halan prepare special. It's not as fine as the palace fare we've grown accustomed to, but he's skilled when I give him the supplies to be so."

"It looks delicious but-"

"Some wine?" Reane displayed a fine crystal bottle full of red liquid. She knew from observing his habits that, when it came to wine, he preferred a dryer variety, and one in particular.

"Is that?" His eyes widened.

"It is."

"Reginald's private stock 6187?"

"You know I wouldn't tease you over it." Reane didn't wait for his answer and poured him a glass.

Anthony tried to not look as interested in the fragrant vintage as he was, but he was sure he didn't hide it well. Especially when he barely waited for her to stop pouring before retrieving his drink. He took a sip, allowing the sweet liquid to hang in his mouth before swallowing, then pondered the remaining wine. "This is the best."

Reane sat. "So, I've been going over the maps and the intelligence King Turon has provided. And I think the blockades are just too tight to run."

"Surely not too tight for the great Captain Reane Matir and her ship and crew?" Anthony chuckled.

Reane's demeanor turned. She'd given a lot of thought to accepting King Turon's offer. But with every day that passed since bringing Sheala to Fimmirra, and her friend deciding to become her uncle's new ambassador, the future Reane now saw in her thoughts and dreams changed. And not for the better. "I was thinking you should lead the mission and take one of King Turon's ships and crew. Captain Gaston is the best there is, and the Independence is faster than the Oracle in open water. There's a natural harbor just to the south where the ship can dock and-"

"But why not you?" His glass back on the table, Anthony leaned forward.

The particular way he posed the question caused Reane not to like it. Almost as if he was calling her out. The Captain sat there, partially frozen by the questioning and decided she would take a leap of faith, and hopefully also solve a mystery. But before she did, she tried one last time to reach out again with her mind and touch Anthony's. The same blank void as always greeted her. Reane's frustration hardened her resolve.

"You want to know why not?"

"Yes. Actually, I do. See, I thought you were someone who took risks. Especially after you agreed to take me to Fimmirra. You could have just turned me in to Sub-General Nightwing in Catersburg and saved yourself a lot of the hassle you've incurred since. Heck, your stunt down in the Telowian Islands alone was such an impressive gamble and almost did us all in. But now you're turning your back on Sheala, your friend, who needs you?"

"Can I show you something?" Reane opened the desk drawer to her left, pulling out one of the gold coins Anthony had paid for bringing him to Fimmirra.

"Such as?"

"Something I don't show very many people." She placed it on the table and started to raise her hand above the coin, but stopped. "Before I do though, I want a little quid pro quo."

His eyebrow cocked, Anthony leaned back and folded his arms. "What kind of quid pro quo?"

"Personal information in exchange for personal information." Reane readied herself, beginning to open up her mind. "It will be easier for me to explain what I want and why it interests me once I show you what I have to offer."

"You should know me well enough. I don't make a habit of getting into bargains without knowing the extent of it."

Reane sighed. "Why can't you just say yes?"

"Why are you being so coy?"

Reane clenched her hand into a fist, bit her lip, and forced herself to relax. "Please, just listen. Okay?" Anthony's impassive stare was the only response she got. "See, I have a gift. Or as my mother used to call it; a curse. People can't hide things from me."

"Obviously. You haven't made it this far in life without-"

"Not like that," she interrupted, then smiled. "Like you were going to say, I didn't get this far in life without gathering information about people and without them knowing it." Her eyes closed, Reane focused on the coin, letting her thoughts encompass it. Once her mind's eye enveloped it, she used her connection to it, inducing it to shake at first, and then rise from the desk. "I can do things most people would consider magic." Once the coin was hovering before her, Reane opened her eyes. From his expression, she didn't need to read Anthony's mind. The display hadn't swayed him.

"Captain, really? A parlor trick is suposed to impress me?"

The way he so cooly reverted from calling her by her name was shattering to Reane. "Anthony, this is not-"

"Look, I don't get you. Believe me, I understand the mission will be tough. But I thought, I really, really thought, you'd be someone we could rely on. Especially after all I've seen you do already. I guess I was wrong. You really are just a-"

"I'm what?" A furious fist into the table punctuated Reane's response as she sent the hovering coin clattering and the two glasses of wine crashing over. "A mercenary? Or was it pirate that was your choice of words? Perhaps thief? Yes, I am all those things. But please tell me you were not even thinking about calling me a coward. Because you know damn well, that's not true." She pointed a finger in his face. "I'm trying to explain things to you, but you're being a jerk!"

"I don't need to listen to this." Anthony started to rise and turned for the door.

More words leapt to come out of Reane's mouth and protest against his unspoken insults, but she stopped short of uttering them. Emotions were welling up inside her to where she was on the verge of careening out of control. In her fog, Reane tried to recount how she had reached into his mind when she was hanging from the side of the ship, moments away from plunging to an icy death. Out of all the minds available to her, she had touched his. And that's when she found the source of her previous success. It was unfettered passion, raw and raging fear, and unrestrained emotion which drove her talent to the level she needed to attain. Corralling her haphazard thoughts as best she could, Reane concentrated, harder than she even had before, and formed them into a psychic blade.

*Anthony! Wait!*

He stopped about two steps shy of the door. Turning as he picked up on the voice firmly in his mind, he watched as Reane strained and leaned across the table. One hand outstretched, the other supporting her and her head down, her body heaved breaths like she was enduring unimaginable torture, yet refusing to break.

"What?"

*Listen to me.*

He looked around, realizing her words were coming from within him. "How are you doing that?" He watched her agonize, trying to maintain the connection. For a moment he thought she was a ventriloquist in addition to a purveyor of minor tricks, but the voice was definitely inside his head. He could feel it there like a worm burrowing through an apple. "Are you? Inside my mind?"

Reane, having now made the connection was unwilling to let it go, even as she felt his unconscious struggle against her. *I told you, people can't hide things from me.* Then, as suddenly as it had come, the link closed and Reane nearly collapsed, requiring both hands on the table to stay up. She looked up at Anthony with what remained of her strength, her body drained to exhaustion, and eased herself back into her seat. The next words she spoke were as two people would normally converse. "But you're different. Why, I can't tell. But your mind resists my probes."

"Assuming this isn't a trick-"

"No trick," Reane assured as Anthony returned cautiously to her desk, but he did not sit. "There's a lot more to me than a pretty face. I think you'll find I'm full of surprises."

"Surprises might be a bit of an understatement. I'm listening now."

Reane drew in a deep breath. "Ever since I was a little girl, probably about eight, I started noticing other people's thoughts would occasionally run through my mind. It began small at first. But eventually it reached a point where sometimes my own thoughts would get pushed aside. I'll admit, it scared me. Who wouldn't have been? But my mother taught me how to control them and set up barriers so the thoughts couldn't take over my own."

"You're descended from the Seers of Denang. Aren't you?"

"That's what my mother claimed, yes. She too had this gift. As did her mother and her mother's mother. Back countless centuries to a point where no one could remember when it began. Most of them had been placed into positions of great importance by kings and queens alike."

"I'm well aware of the history."

"But not all of them had powers to the same extent. While all the Seers could divine the future, some could also manipulate objects with their minds. Some could even control others through a mental link if the target wasn't strong enough to resist. I realized I could do both about the age of ten." Reane leaned back and swiveled in her chair. "It was actually handy being the daughter of a successful smuggler and somewhat of a practicing pickpocket. I wouldn't put myself in a position of potentially getting caught. Just imagine the merchant's purse and it would untie itself from his belt and come to my hand."

"That's how you got us out of Catersburg when the docking propellers weren't wound, isn't it? You moved the entire ship with your mind?"

"Yes. I don't think I could do that again though. And sometimes this gift is still hard to control. It's why I had problems when the archeon approached. Thoughts that are strong or primal enough can overcome my barriers. But see, the real mystery here is you."

"Me?"

"Anthony, the truth is I've never met a mind I couldn't reach. Except yours. Not without straining myself to the point of exhaustion, it seems. To be frank, it frightens me just a little."

Anthony stared off. "Well, can't say I'm not happy to hear you say that. I rather enjoy my thoughts being kept private."

"All I want to figure out is why."

Anthony cleared his throat. "My last name holds the answer, I think."

"Rodan?"

"Flip it around, Reane."

She did and then repeated what she came up with. "Nador? As in House Nador, one of the Elven Families?"

Anthony nodded. "Elven blood. Not a lot. Several generations removed, but still Elven blood. My ancestors are supposed to be very resistant to illusions and magics affecting the mind. I guess that also carries over to being able to resist your abilities too. So, does this have something to do with why you are running away from helping us?"

Reane paused, choosing her words. There was only so much she wanted to let others know. "Anthony, ever since I've brought Sheala here, and she agreed to take her father's place, the future's changed. And not for the better for me. I'm not running because I don't want to help. I'm deciding to change my fate. If I lead this mission? If I get involved in this war? I die. I see my end as a blackness beyond which there is no life."

Anthony stared her down. "You can change your fate."

She shook her head. "I'm trying."

"No, you're not. Like you said, you're running. We need you. And now that I know what I do about you? I'm more certain of it than ever. But if you'd rather run, then run. Don't look back."

Fighting a tear forming in her eye, Reane rebuffed him for his words that twisted inside her. "Don't judge me." She pointed a finger at herself, then turned away from him. "I've already meddled with fate too much and broken so many of the rules I was taught to abide by. I fight for survival. That's cause enough." Eyes closed, Reane forced her mind to open up and probed into the future. She saw the same image as before.

Anthony stood, overlooking a grave. The name was not yet inscribed in the stone, and the look on Anthony's face spoke of the distress he was feeling. There was a woman at his side, comforting him, but the impression of the woman was blurred, like a mixture of two persons in one.

When Reane chose the path which took her as far from the Elven Kingdoms and this war as possible, it was her image which came more into focus. But whenever Reane considered leading the expedition, rushing headlong into this conflict, a different woman became the clearer one. This woman was a stranger to Reane, dressed in white robes with long, straight cinnamon hair. The future had not yet been decided, but her choices would play into the name ultimately etched on the tomb.

Her brow creased in concentration. No matter how hard Reane fought it, no matter how many different scenarios she played out, there were only the two outcomes.

"We all have decisions to make, Captain." Anthony returned her to reality with his words. The coldness of the word 'Captain' was a bitter sting. "The difference between you and me is I don't fear dying. If the cause is just, I'll gladly lay my life down for it."

"You don't understand." Except for the obvious wavering in her voice, Reane held back the visible signs of her sorrow. "What it's like seeing your own death?"

"No, I suppose you're right on that. I just thought you were different. But I guess I was wrong."

Reane listened to the click of the door as Anthony left without another word. She stared out the window and over the blackened waters of the night. The silence brought her thoughts back to the present as the ache in her head became unbearable. She'd felt she had been so close this time. "You're a fool. You should be used to rejection by now." Snatching a long, thin carrot from her plate, Reane took one bite. Loneliness turned its taste unpleasing, despite the mix of seasonings that should have made it delicious. She threw it across the room and peered at the empty chair where Anthony should have been. "Why do I always seem to get into this kind of trouble? I'm not letting him get away."

Reane rose from her seat and wandered over to her dresser, locating the contents inside the top drawer. The trove was the collection of maps King Turon had given her to study and she pulled them out. Returning with them to her desk, she swept the food-filled plates to the floor and placed napkins over the spilled wine from earlier before placing the documents in front of her.

"No, not again," she swore. "Anthony, I'll not let you get away. Even if I have to take on Lord Hedric myself."