Garan nodded. "Probably. But then you"d still have to escape the city with your beloved in your arms. Difficult. Even for a TaiGethen."

"Why would you help me?"

"Because the death of those we love is not constrained by race or victory or defeat."

"You knew I would come?"

"I knew she had been laid there for a reason. The cloak is mine."

The elf nodded thanks.

"She was Arch of the TaiGethen. I loved her," he said.

"Then come with me. Let me help you respect her in death as I did her skill in life."

The elf stared at him for a time, weighing him up. He muttered to himself, said some sharp words and walked forward.

"I am Garan."

"We came to kidnap you," said the elf.

"And ran into Ystormun instead. I"m almost sorry you didn"t find me first."

Takaar didn"t reply. Garan walked with him into the Path of Yniss and away towards the Ultan bridge. Patrolling soldiers stared at them but he simply waved them away. Ordered them to continue their routes. a.s.sured them he was safe.

At the far end of the bridge, beyond the last guard post, they stopped. The elf was staring out at the ground.

"You can see them, can you?"

The elf nodded. "There is s.p.a.ce to walk between them."

He turned to face Garan, and if the man expected thanks he was disappointed.

"Tell your masters we are not done. Tell them we will return. Tell Ystormun that he should fear my name."

Garan saw the strength in him and could not help but shudder. He forced a chuckle. "You know I might just do that. What is your name?"

The elf lifted his head and his face bore a faded glory.

"I am Takaar."

Acknowledgements:

Thank you to my wife, Clare, for putting up with sudden grumpiness when things weren"t going right. To Simon Spanton who provided inspiration and strength. To Lizzy Hill who provided such insightful comment and criticism. And to Richard Griffiths for his unflinching support.

Chronicles of the Raven

DAWNTHIEF.

NOONSHADE.

NIGHTCHILD.

Legends of the Raven ELFSORROW.

SHADOWHEART.

DEMONSTORM.

RAVENSOUL.

The Ascendants of Estorea CRY OF THE NEWBORN.

SHOUT FOR THE DEAD.

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