"I did very little," said Merrin - and then realized that she was doing exactly what he'd just outlined. Failing to believe in herself, that she was not the insignificant, naive dragonrider she believed herself to be. Certainly the gods did not, or they would not have helped her through these last difficult days like they had. Turning suddenly to scrutinize him, lips parted slightly in surprise, she took an impulsive step forward.

"Why," she demanded, an undertone of mirthful bewilderment in her voice, "do you suddenly know more about me than I do myself?"

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Kendath had to blink twice before registering her words. The answer came readily though. Empathy engendered a certain amount of knowledge, for he dubbed himself the hypocrite even as he spoke. Lecturing Merrin on believing in herself... ironic, really...

"Stabbing in the dark," he said insouciantly.

He noticed just then that the music from inside had ceased. He glanced up at the sky. Past midnight already. "It's past your bedtime," he told Merrin seriously, in tones undiscernable as to whether he jested or not.

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"Oh dear - and for a moment there I thought I had stopped being little Merrin who needs her sleep and begun to be grown-up Merrin," said she with an equal air of solemnity - but no amount of grave expression could keep the laughter from dancing behind her eyes. "If you insist I shall retire," she added, grinning impishly now. "Though of course I cannot walk alone in the dark?" This had the air of a suggestion, a coy teasing inquiry.

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"Of course not. You'll get eaten," Kendath returned flippantly.

They reentered the grand hall, where more or less ecstatic couples were just filtering out. In the corner of his eye he glimpsed Je'id, who'd managed to captivate another dazzling damsel. He glanced askance at Merrin, wondering why her former escort had abandoned her. Certainly not a choice he would have made, he caught himself thinking before he realized it.

Up a few flights of stairs and through sconce-lit corridors, until at last they came to a stop outside Merrin's bedchamber. He opened his mouth to say something, but as the two of them stood alone in the quiet corridor, no words came.

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"Crystal....SEMRI SEMRI!!!!" She sat bolt upright, her eyes seeing nothing before her. Jemx seemed to stir at her agitation but instead fell back, groneing softly. As he moved a small jewl glittered at his thougt. A dimond, worn only by those HighMeiltha. Evlyn collapsed in a heap sobbing, still unaware. "Kendreth...why did you go with her...Merrin...Merrin"

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Made by Lembas

Merrin, too, seemed unsure of what to say. Finally she raised her eyes to his and began haltingly. "The - the first time we met, I confess the Kendath I saw then was someone I disliked with a passion." She smiled ruefully. "I think, if someone had told me then how that Kendath would change, to this one" - still Merrin held his eyes with her own - "I would have thought them insane."

Now something seemed to give her pause, for she faltered and dropped her gaze before continuing. "I like this Kendath much better than the old."

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Kyleren lunged forward with a snarl as the jewel at Jemx's throat glittered suddenly. "Meiltha!" he rumbled, crouched to spring.

Knorr shot his dragon a warning glance, and swiftly put a hand to Evlyn's forehead. It felt feverish, and plainly she was raving. But what was this about a Kendath, with Merrin? If one of the Meiltha and Merrin were together, surely that did not bode well for the young rider. Knorr felt suddenly protective. He did not pretend he and Merrin were close in any way. They were kindred but only distantly, second or third cousins. He had not been back to Vryngard for some months - perhaps something had happened?

"We'll take her with us," he abruptly decided. "The dragon will have to remain here, he's too large for ours to transport while also bearing riders."

Reina came forward to look warily at the prone Jemx. "Do you think that's wise?" she queried. "He'll likely bear tales to the Meiltha and an assault on Vryngard is the last thing we need."

"We've no other option. He's delirious too, he'll have no way of knowing where she's gone and though an assault on Vryngard is in no way welcome, we desperately need information about the Meiltha's movements." Knorr heaved Evlyn up to sling her limp form over his broad shoulder.

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On his route back to Garthag's fortress, Demon pondered the abrupt knowledge he'd acquired.

The Age of the Dragon is dissipating... Something happened in the climax of that battle... Time travel... time travel... time...

Circling in the air above the fortress, he mulled over the spirit's tale. Why him? Had the spirit been biding in wait all these centuries, waiting to warn...? The Age of the Dragon is dissipating. Did he dare tell Garthag of the Cloud Crystal's capacities? Did he dare trust Garthag?

No. The wily and calculating mage served himself and himself alone. Reminded with a pang once more of just how alone he was, Demon found that the only human he could now trust was Evlyn. And scanning the ground now, he couldn't see her.

He descended to land beside Semri. "Where's Evlyn?" he growled.

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Kendath didn't know what had triggered it. Her words, perhaps. Or the blatant reminder of his past. Or even denial. Whatever the case, he kept his outward expression carefully impassive. But inwardly, he could already feel himself stiffening as the steel walls once more closed around him with an ominous snap.

"Good night," he said quietly, ducking his head in a small bow. Finding nothing more to say, he turned abruptly on his heel and started back for his own room.

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Merrin wasn't sure what she had expected, but not that. Had she utterly misjudged him? Had their dancing, talking, meant nothing? She'd thought, for a moment in the garden, that something had changed. Had she said something wrong?

But whatever had happened, now she was staring at his retreating back and the curt 'good night' had jolted her out of - what?

"Good night," she murmured in return as he left, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice, and turned to go inside.

When the door closed behind her suddenly Merrin tore off the dress, as though it were a reminder of something she'd rather not remember.

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Kendath lay in bed later that night, staring at the dark ceiling. Curse it, he couldn't shake her out of his head! Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see those infinite blue eyes staring back at him. Whenever his mind blanked, he could still see her smile, her laugh...

He sat up and let his aching head drop into his hands. He'd felt keenly the elation of their dance - the happiest moments he'd experienced in his life. But no, he couldn't...

She didn't deserve him.

She was young, unblemished, with promise and life ahead of her. And himself? He'd lived the past twenty-six years as a failure. She didn't understand. She couldn't understand. She knew nothing about him. All the atrocities he'd committed, all the innocence he'd slain... Even now, with the oath he'd taken as a Renegade, could he possibly take an oath strong enough to force him never to commit those same crimes again?

If only she knew... she would recoil from him...

He hadn't a doubt that in the end, whether by her choice or by his own mistakes, she was lost to him. Lost to him, like everything else he'd ever held dear.

And interestingly enough, this was what he feared above all.

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Merrin pulled the thick blankets over her head, but that failed altogether, as had everything else, to block out her thoughts. What did I do? she wondered for the umpteenth time, thinking through their conversation - every intonation, every glance. Was it something she'd said? Was he offended, angry?

Somehow the thought of Kendath angry at her made Merrin feel positively miserable inside. The white dress, where it lay glowing palely on the floor in a heap, reminded her painfully of dancing with him. The electric touch of his fingertips on hers, whirling back into his grasp as music and colors swirled...

Merrin gulped, lying back to look at the ceiling in sudden panic. What was happening? Why did the thought of his eyes looking into hers make her suddenly breathless? What had he left unsaid when she'd reached out timidly, trustingly - stupidly - to tell him how she liked this change in him?

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"Message for Merrin Dragonrider!" howled a messenger boy outside the door. Merrin awoke with a start - the sun was up! how long had she slept? Groggy, she threw something around herself and opened the door to receive the bit of parchment.

Your presence is requested at the Council at three bells.

That was it? Merrin flipped the parchment over in puzzlement. Perhaps it was extremely confidential, what they were planning to say there. Maybe Kendath -

Oh, stars, Kendath. Merrin suppressed a groan.

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When Kendath donned his customary dark cloak and stumbled outside the next morning, he absolutely had no idea where his steps were taking him. He felt like an automaton - typical of a sleepless night. With a frown, he reached inside his pocket for a missive he'd found pinned outside his door that morning.

I keep all my promises. Someone waits for you in the north courtyard.

With a weary sigh, he took an operated lift down a few flights of stairs, to the bottom level of Vryngard. After asking a few directions, he found himself standing at the entrance to the dragon hatcheries. Wondering if Sage was silently taunting him, he took a few steps into the courtyard, then had to leap aside as a pair of initiates bearing a formidable tray of dragon eggs hustled past.

"Are you the one they call Kendath?"

He turned at that, and couldn't conceal his astonishment. The jade green dragon, her emerald eyes sparkling in curiousity, twisted around her sinuous neck to look him in the face.

"I am," he replied, deadpan.

The lithe wyrm, smaller than Demon but more streamlined, seemed uncertain. At length she evinced a tentative, reptalian smile. Her mind, so familiar yet so alien, tickled his consciousness. Greetings, Kendath. My name is Gyre.

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The piece of parchment discarded, Merrin began to dress. Judging by the sun it was nearing three bells already. Mentally she extended a tendril of thought to Wyvern.

Council at three bells. I'll meet you by the dragonkeep.

Merrin? his tone was questioning, worried. Something's wrong, you're...troubled.

But Merrin was lost in thought and in a moment she realized just how much - she'd been rapidly donning the ivory gown. Cringing inwardly she removed it, though more gently than she had the night before, and shut the thing hurriedly out of sight in her wardrobe.

Minutes later, clad in her dragonrider garb - tunic and breeches, like a boy's, with a silver-grey cloak overtop to match Wyvern - and hair falling in some semblance of order around her shoulders, Merrin charged blindly down to the great dragon caves. Wyvern's head snaked affectionately about her waist and she smiled, albeit reluctantly, and ran her hands over his ebony horns.

Tell me what happened.

Merrin hesitated. Wyvern might be angry. But they were dragon and rider, and how could they be united, one, if she kept this from him?

To her relief, however, as they ascended slowly up to the level of the domed Council room she felt no anger - at least not towards Kendath, for Je'id there was plenty - emanating from her counterpart, only confusion and sympathy.

When the great silver doors confronted them, matching Wyvern's scales, she finished miserably with - I don't know what's happening to me, Wyvern. I used to care not a whit what he thought and now I can't get him out of my head!

He knew no better than her, of course, being only three years out of the egg, but his sympathy comforted Merrin and she was able to retain a shred more composure as they entered the Council chamber, which was - surprisingly - empty. Three bells hadn't yet rung, Merrin remembered, and seated herself with a shrug.

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"Sorrow pulls us away from the now," came a gentle voice from the shadows. "And only in the now can you truly experience the bliss of life." The shadows seemed to fall apart as the figure in sunkissed green robes rose from his seat. Sage came forward and placed a sympathetic hand on Merrin's shoulder. "Something ails you, child."

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"Your rider?" Kendath inquired. The two of them were walking among a secluded division of the garden. He glanced curiously at Gyre. He was not quite prepared to open his thoughts to her yet. In his mind, still nothing could replace Demon. Despite this, the familiar bond between dragon and rider was beginning to fill that void that'd yawned empty since Demon left.

And what a foreign bond it was. Gyre was serene, tolerant of his faults, where Demon had been spiteful and impatient. "My rider? Dead of black fever many decades before," she replied, her gaze distant. "And I... I was lonely."

Oh, lovely. Now you receive the grand privilege of making certain I don't go walzting off to gut some dignitary or other, is that it?

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Merrin jerked out of her thoughts, jumping a little at the druid's unexpected appearance. Stars above, she wondered in dismay, am I so obvious?

Of course she would not tell him - what place had her worries in the cataclysmic events that now seemed thundering down around her shoulders?

"Ah - yes," she replied carefully, frantically trying to make her expression as unreadable as Kendath's always seemed to be. Curse it, stay out of my head! She thought irritably of him. "Somewhat."

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A neat formation of dragons, their colors those of the proverbial rainbow, zoomed overhead in a rush of wind and came to rest in Vryngard's massive courtyard. Captain Myrdas and Knorr, who held a limp Evlyn in front of him on the saddle, dismounted. Most of the others scattered to their various homes and roosts.

"Reina, if you would, hunt up Subcommander Kale, please?" Myrdas queried over his shoulder towards his second-in-command. He dismounted and turned to Knorr. "That Meiltha still hasn't woken?"

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It was then that the great silver doors of the audience hall banged magnificently open, and the twelve Council members in full regalia swept in. Sage acknowledged each of them in turn. As their authoritive gazes turned to him expectantly, he smiled and began, "Yes, I promised to tell you all I know of the Crystals. Its history is long and sanguinary, and I shall shorten it. Time is short, so without further ado, I shall begin.

"The Crystals were forged by the Skyseekers in 174 Fo.A., two thousand years in antiquity. The Skyseekers were, as one could call them, fanatics. They turned to the heavens for their answers in life. Thus, they believed that the purpose of their lives would be fulfilled once they fully understood the gap between space and time.

"In short, the birth of the Celestial Plane."

Sage gazed to the Council members in turn, as if letting in on some vast yet revealing epiphany.

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Merrin listened, frowning. She felt as if this was rather above her head, though mention of the Skyseekers did bring to mind a rapid and unwelcome succession of memories - and the gap between space and time? Celestial plane?

She will undertake a perilous journey across the world...and across the rifts of time.

Was that what he had meant? A sudden alarming vision of herself at a standstill while the world backtracked speedily around her gave Merrin pause for a moment while she looked blankly at the druid.

Thorone watched Merrin's face, feeling hardly responsible in sending this youngest of his riders on the perilous journey Sage spoke of. He shifted in his seat. There must be more to this story. And he forced himself not to judge until he heard.

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