"Do you think he'll ever wake?" Chatoya Irkil pushed her hair out her face, but the wind blowing from the lake just flung it back into her eyes and mouth with a child's carefree violence.

 The wind didn't seem to trouble Ryar ap Sangager, knelt on the ground as if she'd come to pray at the feet of an idol. Maybe he had been an idol once, Ryar's husband, love and nemesis in one dreadful package, but now Fireblade was less than a statue, not even an imitation of life. Wherever he was, locked deep in an enchanted fugue, it was so distant that all Chatoya's magic couldn't hear so much as a pulse.

 Only the bond of Drax to Drax told her he lived still.

"I don't know. Part of me hopes so. Part of me doesn't." Ryar wrapped her arms tightly around her knees, her eyes wide and lost, full of sea shards and old dreams. "Is that strange?"

 Chatoya knew that feeling well. But her own ambiguous love was very much alive, to her joy and her dismay. "Not in the slightest. Though you'll have to forgive me when I say that I hope he never opens his eyes again."

 "He was a terrible man," Ryar said softly. "I know that. But he was great once, too."

A great monster, she wanted to say, but held her tongue. There was no point in telling Ryar what she already knew; it had been Ryar who died under her husband's hand, Ryar resurrected by his desperation only to be enslaved by his cruelty once again.

 She thought there could be nothing worse than that: knowing you could die a thousand deaths beneath his hands, and be reborn to die a thousand more.

 She couldn't help the savage thought that rose up like an enraged swarm, near-violent in its intensity.

 I hope that wherever you are, it hurts.

~*~

 He couldn't comprehend how long he had been dreaming; only that he was sure waking should have come by now, and taken him back to-

 To somewhere, though he couldn't quite recall where it was he was supposed to be.

 And in his mind, the past spun out once more, and he thought: is there where it began? Is this when we began to fall apart...?

 He thought an ending would look more solemn somehow, a scene of black, of low dirges and storm-ridden skies. Not like this, a long wide crescent of gold, curving into a blue sea dotted with pinpoints of light, the tide rocking back and forth, and there...

 Figures, three among the waves and two on the sand. It was those two that interested him; Bhari and himself, distant from the other three who were clowning around in the sea.

 He knew his own face, no matter how it changed, and here it wore a look of brooding, near-sulkiness. His eyes were the shifting orange of firelight, as if the truest part of his nature shone out. He wore his least-favoured shape, that of a sturdy boy chosen only to fit in with the rest of his companions. Orange stripes enlivened an otherwise dull mop of black hair, and he was huddled inside a glass shell as if it was his only shelter from a midwinter storm.

 "Aren't you hot?" Bhari remarked, flicking him an amused look. Her human form was as mundane as his was flamboyant, all neat lines and bland hues. Her hair was the boring brown of mud, her eyes dark and hooded.

 But she unveiled her stare like Salome stripping off the final veil, bold and steady, a look to stop hearts that hadn't seen it a thousand times before.

 "I'm in my element," he snapped back, not bothering to hide the sarcasm. He loathed sand, nasty gritty dust that got everywhere. That was why he'd fired this patch into glass, a hemisphere that arched around his back and under his feet, magnifying the heat until he could close his eyes and almost think himself inside an inferno.

 "Actually, you're in mine," she murmured, dragging her fingers through the sand.

 "Everyone's element but mine," he grumbled. "Look at them! Like children."

 In the breaking surf, the other three seemed to be playing some sort of game. Undoubtedly Hael had suggested it, but he was surprised to see Kheo taking part with gusto, his laughter loud and merry.

 And strange; amidst the foam and splashing, Ryar seemed nearly beautiful, seawater snagged in her hair, a pale and shining as a star, her every move dainty, soft with delight. For a moment, Fireblade saw the girl he had been so entranced by; feather-light, a sylph next to Hael and Kheo's water-logged gestures. He felt an absurd urge to charge into the waves and turn them to steam, framing her in clouds.

 "Let them have their fun," advised Bhari, her slow, heavy voice jolting him from foolish thoughts. "It will be over soon enough. Though Kheo is cruel to deceive them."

  "It is necessary," he said shortly. Kheo seemed to be playing his part a little too well. Surely he wasn't having second thoughts...? "As long as it is them he deceives."

 Bhari reached out a languid hand to brush his foot, and it annoyed him that he needed such soothing. "It will be."

 Kheo's kitten, he thought. Do you know they call you that, Bhari? Do you like being regarded as his plaything?

 Maybe she did. Certainly she would not hesitate to use it. Those who thought her harmless were fools, and he wasn't willing to be numbered among them. "As long as you are sure."

 "Kheo hungers for war almost as much as you do."

 He didn't debate the point. Battlegrounds were his natural territory. Where else could fire slake itself so viciously? And he was a warrior born, a damnably good tactician, and a successful enough general to have won Sangager control of all five realms - and to have kept Kheo that same territory. "His hatred of witches is...intriguing. You have to wonder where it came from."

 She didn't rise to the bait. "And I will not press him on the matter again. Why don't you try his temper, Fireblade, and see how you like it?"

 He shared a thin smile with her. "I learned my lesson the first time."

 "And I learned mine the last time. Does it matter why he wants war? We will have it, that is what matters, and this pestilence of mortals will be gone." She glanced down at her body. "And this will be all that remains."

 Shells and copies, he thought idly. "If we can convince Hael."

 Her eyes scythed over him, quick and cutting. "Your wife is no advocate of war."

 Anger swelled up in his gut. "My wife will do as I wish."

 He had not expected Ryar to voice any opposition to the war - and he certainly had not expected her to wind her protests into music, using that thrilling voice to beseech and bewitch, not merely for him, but in front of the entire court!

 He even thought if he hadn't stopped her, sending up the harp in a wash of flames, she would have convinced half the dragons there.

 If her audacity hadn't pleased him in an obscure way he couldn't explain, he might not have left it at a single blow. As it was, she spent the next few days in a weepy silence as depressing as it was boring, and he, vexed by her apathy, had found entertainment elsewhere. Beautiful entertainment, he reminded himself, who would appreciate something as cheap and tawdry as a few of the spiral shells lying about.

 "Of course she will," Bhari said in a tone that indicated otherwise.

 "Before you criticise my relationship, you would do well to look to your own," he said curtly. "Sometimes I wonder which of you holds the power."

 That had rattled her: her jaw tightened, and around her, the sands swirled uneasily. "When Kheo's plan is executed-"

 "Oh please," he interrupted, injecting a little disdain into his voice, "let's not wrap it up in words. It's Hael's family who will be executed, and by you."

 "Keep your voice down!" she hissed. Needlessly; the other three were too far away to hear a word.

 "Keep your resolve," he flung back, enjoyed her discomfiture. Bhari prided herself on her composure, but it was satisfying to see her lose her control. Hael was the only person who made her truly vulnerable, exposing the fractures in her heart like flaws in spring ice.

 But those flaws had better be nothing more than indulgence. He would not permit her to ruin his and Kheo's years of planning.

 Her eyes narrowed down to black slits. "What's that supposed to mean?"

 "Don't let your love for Hael get in the way," he said simply, splitting the words into hard blocks of sound. "Do what must be done."

 "When have I ever failed to do so?" she snarled.

 "You've never loved before." He threw the word at her, pleased by the tiny flinch it evoked. Oh yes, Bhari, love has made you weak, as I have never allowed it to make me weak. Love is for fools, for those unable to hold themselves above the petty affairs of desire and affection.

 "Nor have you ever lost a war," she returned, her claws unsheathing. "Are you planning to lose this one?"

 He laughed, satisfied. A hard woman, this one, and she would do what needed to be done. "Hardly."

 "Then the matter is ended. Hael will fight with us, have no fear."

 "It was doubt, not fear. Hael doesn't scare me."

 Something passed over her face, faint as a shadow. "Then you're naive."

 He glanced out to sea, where the three still frolicked. Hael had pulled Ryar into the water, and the pair of them looked to be fighting in a flurry of shapeshifting skill: fins and tails flickered, the water churning wildly. Kheo only watched, unwilling - or unable, Fireblade wasn't sure - to lose his dignity.

 "I respect his power," he acknowledged. Hael was far older than him; older even than his mother, who was deathless as the broad blue sky. He was to be admired, to be liked, to be treated with deference on occasion. But not feared. One so fallible could be no more than a minor irritant. "But he is only a threat if you fail. He will seek vengeance for his family, Bhari. Make sure it is the witches he blames, not us."

 He saw the answer in her eyes, then, seeing through her hard façade with a glimpse of intuition. Yes, she would make sure: she was too afraid of what Hael's anger might mean, too afraid of destroying the fragile intimacy they had.

 Love was weakness. But it was a weakness that could be manipulated, and in that, it was useful.

 "They're coming back," was all she said.

 He looked over. Kheo was pulling Ryar from the water, and in that instant, there was something that made Fireblade's heart catch. The look on their faces; a tenderness to Kheo's smile and outstretched hand, his wife's parted lips and lowered eyes...

 No, it was nothing. An idle fancy, brought on by all this water and earth.

 Then Kheo hauled her to her feet, and joined by Hael, they made their way back. There was nothing to suggest more than friendship. The sea was already washing away their footsteps, stealing all trace that legends had walked there.

 And they would be legends, he had no doubt. The Five would go down in history as the greatest of dragons, who had changed their world forever.

 "You missed all the fun!" called Hael, his long hair plastered to his head, giving him the look of a green-eyed seal.

 "You missed some of the fun," corrected Kheo, damp from the waist down. His skin had been buffed pink by the wind, and his secret smile played about his mouth. "It all got a bit too frisky for me."

 Ryar wrung out her hair with both hands, dotting the sand with water. "Everything's too frisky for you," she murmured.

 "That little ambassador from the mountains wasn't," Fireblade put in. "I saw the look you gave her!"

 "Well, you didn't see the agreement I gave her," quipped Kheo, but the words were double-edged. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the ambassador leave again...and he'd heard that someone else from the mountains wanted to speak with Kheo-

 No. Surely he wouldn't have.

 "I've no doubt she was quite vociferous," he said cheerfully, needling his ally and king.

 Kheo raised his eyebrows. "Quite."

 Typical Kheo.

 If Bhari wanted to understand composure, it was Kheo she should learn from. Fireblade couldn't help but admire his restraint. Nothing was given away by word or gesture, those pleasant smiles used to cloak his intentions as other men might use distractions or lies. When Fireblade had first met Kheo, a slight, small boy in the court of Sangager, he had dismissed him immediately, and he hadn't been the first or last to fall prey to Kheo's deceptive ways.

 But he had been one of the first to ally with him. A wise move. Perhaps the smartest thing he'd ever done.

 Hael shook out his head, spraying Bhari with water. She batted at him feebly, and he slumped onto the sands, whipping up a cool breeze. "So, was I right?"

 "About what?" Kheo asked, arms linked loosely about his knees. He looked boyish then, not a trace of a king in the relaxed frame and mischievous eyes.

 "You needed a break. Aren't you glad you let me drag you all out to the coast?" Hael blew the ocean a kiss, as if it were a woman. Add 'just plain odd' to his other traits.

 "I missed the sea," Ryar said wistfully. "I think I might stay for a few days."

 Fireblade shuddered. "You'll stay alone, then. I have no urge to wait for you to come in stinking of brine every night, dragging sand everywhere."

 A flash of hurt in her eyes. "I don't remember asking for your company."

 Thunderstruck, he could only stare. Then he recovered himself. "You're right. Usually you beg."

 She turned her face aside, as if he'd hit her. He half-wanted to, to leave some mark that would show her she had no right to use words with such sudden sharpness.

 "Enough." Kheo's voice was cold and thin, a sword that sliced through the uncomfortable silence. There was the king, able to end - or at least postpone - an argument with a word.

 "So...was I right?" spoke up Hael, obviously trying to change the subject. His jolly smile hadn't altered a whit, but Fireblade didn't like the disapproval in his eyes.

 Kheo turned his attention to the Air Drax, his face softening into easier lines. "I needed a break. The court can be tiresome. In fact, I think I might join Ryar and stay a little longer. If you don't mind, of course?"

 Ryar shook her head, some of the hurt slipping from her face. It was, Fireblade, thought grudgingly, a diplomatic gesture on Kheo's part. Maybe it would stop her creeling in his ear when she returned.

 "I'm due a trip to the mountains, or I'd join you," Hael said with a touch of glumness. "Apparently they asked for me."

 They had indeed. He and Kheo had made sure of that, and caused enough trouble to keep Hael away while his family were executed. In fact, if Ryar remained here, it would sweep another distraction away; sometimes his wife could be uncomfortably perceptive. Better to have her away from all the commotion.

 "And I suppose if you two are staying here, Fireblade and I will have to keep the rabble content," Bhari said with mock-exasperation. "Very well, Kheo. If you want us, you know where we are."

 "And if you want anything to make the wilderness more comfortable, you can send back to the court," Fireblade put in. He expected Kheo would be sending a long list; this niche of nowhere was hardly to his extravagant taste, after all.

 "I expect I'll have all I want," Kheo said, a rough burr to his  voice that baffled Fireblade.

 Yes, thought the part of him that watched from a vague future. I expect you did, you bastard. Were you really so brazen as to steal my own wife under my nose? No...I expect you thought about it, perhaps you even planned it, but in that trickster's heart of yours, you'd never let anything get in the way of your ambition, and you wanted the world more than you ever wanted my treacherous wife.

 The memory began to dissipate, fracturing into slices of gold and white and blue, until he drifted again, freefalling through his own mind, unable to find a way out. The last he heard was Kheo's voice, rich and low, riding roughshod over the time and space between them.

 "After all, what more could one want than such close companions?"

 Was that where it began? Was that the moment that the war became unstoppable?

 Could there have been any other end than this?

 No...I was betrayed on every front. By Bhari and her foolish love, by Hael and his conscience, by Kheo's greed, by my wife, by all that is holy and unholy and unsure, by my own wife!

 I was betrayed. I was lost long before this. Surely that one day could not have changed anything.

 Surely not...?