The Draykon Series (1-3)

Draykon: Epilogue

   'Dev, this can't be right. If you were left in Nimdre, how did you get to my tree?'

   Devary repeated much of the same nonsense he'd talked in his delirium. She shook her head impatiently. 'A draykon came out of the skies and carried you back to my house? That's absurd, Dev, you must see that. What really happened?'

   He looked at her helplessly. 'I swear, Ynara, every word I've spoken is the truth.'

   She stood up, disgusted with him. 'Get some sleep.' She left the room without looking back.

   She found Aysun bent over his work table. Since Devary's return he had been closeted in here hour after hour, working constantly at a complex device whose function she didn't begin to understand. That was all right. She had long since stopped trying to grasp the intricacies of her husband's inventions; it was enough that they satisfied and exhilarated him.

   Set into the top of this contraption was a ring matching one that Llandry wore. He had given her that ring when she was five years old, and she never took it off, but neither she nor Ynara had ever realised that it was more than a trinket. Aysun had recently told her, rather tersely, that this ring was a twin to Llandry's and would be instrumental in finding her - as long as she was still wearing her own ring. Ynara hoped fervently that she hadn't lost it.

   She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him from behind. He paused to pat her hands, but he didn't turn around. She realised, with a growing sense of trepidation, that something was different about him. Each time she had entered this room she had found him bent intently over his machine, working at a feverish pace. It had been frustrating him because it ought to have pinpointed Llandry's vicinity within an hour or two, but it had given him nothing. She recognised his relentless attitude as born of fear: fear that Llandry had lost her ring, fear that the machine was malfunctioning. Fear that he would fail in finding her.

   Now his feverish energy had drained away. He was leaning on the table, braced on his two large hands, his head bowed. She released him and turned him gently to face her.

   'Aysun?' She searched his face uncertainly. His expression was closed, unresponsive. 'Did you find her?'

  'Not exactly.' He spoke with difficulty, his jaws fiercely clenched. 'I think I know why it won't show me her location.'

    'Oh?' Ynara tried to keep her voice light, but it was hard. She had never seen him like this before.

   'The machine cannot find her because she is no longer within its range.'

   'You mean... she's dead?'

   'That, or she has gone off-world.'

   Ynara blanched. She knew that, to him, off-world was as good as dead. Ever since his father had stepped through to the Uppers long years ago, and never come back.

   'Llandry... she wouldn't do that, Aysun. She must remember what you've always told her about the dangers up there. Perhaps the machine...' She trailed off helplessly. Aysun wouldn't want to believe it either. If he would rather believe Llandry to be off-world than that his machine was at fault, he must have sound reason.

   'She may not have done so deliberately. Possibly she was taken up there by someone else.' He looked down at her. At last the iron in his face softened and he gave her a look of love. 'I'm going after her, Ynara.'

   Ynara knew what a concession this was for him. He had always refused to have anything to do with the Upper Realms. He hated his wife's sorcerous abilities, and she had exercised caution in displaying them around him. She had not gone back to the Uppers after her one visit there, because it had caused him such intense fear she hadn't the heart. And he had prevented Llandry's joining the summoner guild, knowing that the profession would periodically carry her off-world. His dread of it was too wholly understandable, and her heart contracted with love at his courage.