A/N: Hey everyone! I’m desperately trying to push these chapters out yet it’s kind of difficult with no internet connection and therefore no drive. However, I find that as of late my ‘muse’ has returned so it’s been a lot of fun for me. I’m hoping to have a sketch or two to put on my DA account related to one of the scenes from this chapter. All I have to say is that I love Marick… He’s my cutie pie lol Thank you for your support everyone!

Although night had nearly fallen the creatures bustled to and fro between the tents. There were groups singing old folk songs, groups dancing, roasting meat over open fires, playing games, and having a grand ole’ time. It was disconcerting. Kaltor brushed the feeling off as soon as it came upon him. For all these people knew they could be dead by this time the following day. It was only right that they enjoy every moment they had. The night was warmer than he would have expected. Perhaps it was because he had been training for the last portion of the day, or it could even be the warmth of those he was surrounded by.

Since Alamora had walked out of the meeting three days before he had not seen her. He’d even dared to venture to her quarters so as to apologize for his brash behavior after the first day. Her maid had told him that she had not seen her since that morning. His next guess had been Marick, yet he had nothing to say to him. There was a tension between the two that only seemed to grow the longer they remained around one another. He didn’t like it. To rid himself of the frustrations he’d engaged in hand to hand combat with several of the generals. They were no where near his level of expertise but because he needed the release he lowered himself. That was how he wound up there, at the western edge of their encampment.

At the end of his session with the others, he’d wandered around aimlessly. Something had pulled him to that location, to the spot he stood now. His jaw practically dropped when he took in the sight before him. Sir Marcus sat cross-legged in mid-air, energy balls around his hands as he concentrated. Alamora stood her ground, eyes shut tightly in concentration. Her entire body was alight with her power, illuminating the surrounding area. Marcus’ eyes suddenly snapped open, his hands releasing the energy they held. Alamora was quick to react, backhanding one ball into the sky while cradling the other before throwing it back at Marcus.

Immediately after tossing the energy into the air she released her own attacks only to have Marcus’ force field deflect them. Even from behind he could see her eyes narrow, her body tensing in preparation. Crouching low, arms crossed in defense, she formed two balls of energy in her hands. Releasing one at Marcus she placed her other hand to the ground, releasing a slight cry as she forced the energy beneath her feet. Rippling outwards the ground rose in a wave to knock Marcus off his invisible perch. Startled, the elder being erected a shield of energy to protect himself at the last moment. Alamora clenched her fists, bringing her arms down to her sides in a forceful command. In response the earth trembled before collapsing once more upon itself to create a crater which spat up several rocks and boulders in attack.

Kaltor could see Marcus struggling not to allow the sudden pressure capture him in its grasp. The strain was evident as he fought off her power, ignoring the pain as several stones collided with his body. Finally he lost control, the energy used to create the gaping hole claiming him. As his body crumpled Alamora stood straight, raising a single hand towards him. Marcus’ descent was halted abruptly at the motion. Placing him gently on his feet Alamora allowed the energy to fade from her being, ignoring the sudden strain upon her physical being. Smiling briefly she attempted to walk towards Marcus only to stumble forward. Immediately Kaltor reached out for her, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her.

“I’m impressed Lady Alamora. Come, you need rest now. Lord Kaltor, please bring her this way.” Marcus’ soiled and sweaty form trudged off into the shadows of the tents, pausing only briefly to assure he was indeed following. When Alamora made no move to do so on her own Kaltor lifted her legs into his arms and began to walk.

Not one word was uttered between the two, as there was nothing that could be said. Too much had happened in too short a time period for things to be made that easy. Marcus walked on for quite a bit before stopping outside of Alamora’s tent. Holding back one of the flaps he waved towards the interior, signaling for Kaltor to put her to bed. Entering the tent he was startled when Marcus simply closed the flap behind him and left. Swallowing the lump that was steadily growing in his throat he moved forward to gently place Alamora on her bed. That’s when he noticed the unusual tone of her skin and the fact that she wasn’t wearing her cloak.

“You must be freezing.” He moved towards the dying embers of the fire pit on the other side of the tent. Alamora had simply shrugged at his words, turning to lie on her side. Kaltor focused solely on the fire, going as far as to use his power to help it along. Anything he could do to get out of the tent faster would help him. When it was finally started and cast a good deal of heat throughout the tent he stood.

“There you go Alamora; you should be nice and warm soon.” Turning he caught sight of her on the bed, still fully clothed. “Alamora?”

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed he watched her slumbering form. Her skin was slowly gaining pigment again, though it was covered in goose bumps. Sighing heavily he lifted her once more in his arms as he pulled back the sheets. Setting her down he then proceeded to tuck her in, focusing on her tender face. Kaltor was proud of her. Her powers were much stronger now than when they were back at Ishmerai and it appeared that she had a better reign on them as well. She’d come so far in such a short amount of time. Had he helped or was he just a hindrance? He was so utterly ashamed of his outburst the previous night that he wasn’t sure things would ever be the same between them. But he simply didn’t want to hide it any longer. He wanted her to be his and his alone. The mere thought of Marick being the one to hold her heart nearly drove him to madness.

“Your Majesty.” The voice behind him was the last one he wanted to hear at this point in time. “I was given explicit orders to send you to Lady Resmiranda if you were to step into Lady Alamora’s chambers.” It took all his self control not to allow his dragon rage to take the best of him. Slowly Kaltor got to his feet, watching Alamora’s slumbering face the entire time. Passing Marick he refused to so much as cast him a cursory glance. This was none of the druid’s business.

When Kaltor had gone off silently into the crowd Marick secured the flaps to Alamora’s chambers and took his post. No one was getting past him that night, no matter who they were. Earlier on, some time after Alamora had left him, he’d learned that she was training with Marcus once more. From his position on the other side of the encampment he was able to see the light emanating from her attacks. Soon she would be ready to go in and kill Rupert, to win this war for them. Marick hadn’t been standing guard long when suddenly the flaps opened, Alamora stepping out into the frosty night air.

“Alamora, shouldn’t you be in bed?” Shaking her head she ignored him, continuing to walk away. “I’m sorry Ally, I really am. I didn’t mean what I said.” Stopping in her tracks she turned to look at him, exhaustion evident upon her form.

“Of course you did, why else would you have said it? I understand now Marick, don’t worry. I’ll be there when I’m called upon; I won’t run away like I have in the past. I will stand firm in the face of my enemy and I will triumph; if not for myself than for all of you.” Hanging his head Marick sighed.

“You don’t get it, do you?” She was too tired to read into his words, to understand what he was truly saying.

“I thought this was what you wanted. Isn’t it? For me to stand up and take my place in history?” Alamora was startled to find herself enveloped in his arms, pressed snuggly against his chest.

“No, it’s not. I just don’t want you to get hurt. Forget what everyone else wants. If it were up to me you wouldn’t even have to fight.”

“Marick, stop it.” She couldn’t handle it, especially not now. Alamora knew how much Marick cared for her but she simply couldn’t return his affections. Not when she was heading into this war. Not when she didn’t love him back.

“No, I won’t. It doesn’t matter if you don’t share my affections. I will always care for you. At least let me have that much.” Shaking her head she pulled back, tightly shutting her eyes to keep from seeing his. If she were to look at him she was sure she’d break.

“Do not feel such things for me. After this war you will never see me again so leave it at that.” She could feel his hand tenderly cupping the side of her face, the other gently placed on her hip.

His breath tickled her skin as he touched his lips first to her temple, her nose, and both her cheeks. As she moved to push him away his lips fell upon her own, softly pressing and asking acceptance. Opening her eyes in shock she stared blankly before her as a chill ran down her spine. What was he doing? Moreover, why wasn’t she stopping him? She could feel herself sinking further into his embrace, craving the attention he was paying her. No. This was wrong. He was the wrong one that she wanted to experience this with. She wanted to be sinking into his arms, to have him hold her tenderly and send these chills down her spine. Gently she pulled away from Marick, her breath shallow.

“I can’t Marick. It’s not fair to you.” Solemnly he nodded, a soft smile appearing on his lips.

“I’ve known for quite a while that I could not compete with him. I realized it back in Shinimani, when you saved him from his grief.” Bewilderment flashed across her face even as he smiled. “I’ve seen the way you two act around one another. Beneath the hostility is a fear for what truly lies in your heart. I had hoped I was wrong, had hoped that perhaps I could be the only one in your life.”

“Marick, you’ve got it all wrong. I could never—.” His finger over her lips and his gentle smile silenced her.

“You may not have realized it within your heart, but I know he has. Give it time Ally.” Tightening his grip on her he buried his head in her shoulder, breathing deeply. “You should really be in bed. Why aren’t you sleeping?” Within seconds the moment had passed. They were back to being friends, to the air that surrounded them when they’d first met. In a way she was glad; it was less pressure.

“I can’t sleep. There’s something gnawing at the back of my mind, as if something were going to happen soon.” The night’s breeze picked up then, brushing past with a fierce chill. “I have a feeling I know what it is, but I’d rather have confirmation of it rather than an assumption.” Steering her inside the tent he led her to her bed.

“You can think about it in the morning Ally. Right now you need your rest. You’ve been training intensely these past few days and it’s time you allowed your body some time to cool down. I’ll be right outside if you need me, alright?” Kissing her temple Marick bowed softly before exiting her tent.
For several moments Alamora stood rooted to where she stood. What exactly had just occurred? Confusion swept across her mind as she readied herself for bed, donning her night garments. Even as she lay upon her pillow, the warm comforter pulled up tight against her chest, her mind would not rest. Something was going to happen, something big, and she didn’t know what it was. It could happen within the next hour or a week from then. All she knew was that it wasn’t going to be a good thing. So the night crept on, with sleep leaving Alamora to ponder the potential outcomes of the war.

“Good morning Lady Alamora, I’m pleased to see you have decided to join us today.” Unceremoniously Alamora set herself in her accustomed seat, staring at the mounds of haphazardly placed parchment before her. “Are you alright dear? You don’t look so well. Have you been getting enough rest these past few days?”

Lady Resmiranda’s concern was that of mother’s as she placed her hand over Alamora’s. Numbly she nodded, unable to even muster a feeble smile of assurance. In truth she was so exhausted she could barely keep herself focused on the words printed in one of the most delicate hands she’d ever seen. So exhausted, in fact, that Kaltor’s worried gaze was left unheeded. In an effort to appear more competent Alamora straightened her back and cleared her throat. Lady Resmiranda took note of this and sat back, forfeiting her seniority and command of the table to Alamora. Her stubbornness pleased her in the oddest of ways. Taking a solid breath she then proceeded with her plan, hoping against all hope that she wasn’t false in her beliefs.

“The dragon army, of the stronghold Ishmerai, is well on its way as I’m sure you all know. What will our course of action be once they have arrived?” Several stunned gazes were thrown her way as generals sitting close by at the other tables heard her words. Kaltor smirked at their incompetence. He was proud to hear that she knew when the dragons were on the move.

“Actually, my Lady, we were awaiting your input on this matter. You see, the dragons are our final defense before you are to go in to battle.” The second eldest elf spoke, his aged features not as well preserved as Resmiranda’s. She should have known that was the case. With a laden sigh Alamora placed her thumb and forefinger against her temple.

“Our plan was to have you escorted by your royal guard through the back pathways of the forest to Rupert’s palace. Once there you would go in to the private courtyard and make your way to his chambers.” There she paused, her uncertainty causing her delicate wrinkles to deepen.

“I would have to go in alone, wouldn’t I?” Solemnly and most reluctantly she nodded. As Alamora was about to accept the terms a fist slammed in to the table on her right, causing her to jump. Looking up she saw a defiant dragon lord looming over her shoulders, a scowl etched onto his face.

“No! I won’t have it!” The blatant rage he expressed at the mere notion of her going in alone caused her heart to skip a bear. “She is not going in there alone! I will personally escort her into that castle and bring her to Rupert. Afterwards I shall lead her right back out.” His forwardness over the whole situation was startling if nothing else.

“How do you plan on accomplishing this, my Lord? Weren’t you to lead your clan into battle?” If possible his frown deepened further as he took a seat next to Alamora.

By then several of the generals had gathered around the center table, as they were curious to see what their orders would be. After all, every decision that was going to be made would directly affect them and their troops. They would need to be well informed if they were going to execute them properly and efficiently. Eagerly they awaited Kaltor’s next words.

“As you are all well aware, I have summoned Ishmerai’s military force to join this fight. I have also called upon our brother tribe, the Southern clan, to join us as well. They are sending their most well trained dragons as well as the most powerful warlocks and sorcerers of their region. The Southern clan has a greater advantage than my own as their tolerance for magical attacks is so great it is almost immunity.

“My idea is this. When the dragons launch the ground and aerial attacks I shall fly above it all with Alamora. Under the cover of night and the distraction of the raid we should be safe for the most part. Once we reach the inner courtyard I shall transform back into this form and together we will seek out Rupert.”

“We can’t expect to enter the courtyard so easily. From what I’ve been told this man is not to be trifled with. He is a master of not only the dark arts but of the ancient power that runs through both mine and Kaltor’s blood. He hasn’t lived this long by chance and you can be sure he won’t surrender his hard work without a fight. The entrances to his castle are bound to have spells, wards and enchantments all over them. For all we know he could post an ereboc at each of the most obvious points of entry. What will we do if that happens to be the case? We must be prepared for everything and anything he has to throw at us.” Alamora looked up at those surrounding the table, an edge to her gaze that had not been there before. Her authoritative air was startling, if not refreshing. It was the first time anyone had seen her take charge so completely.

The conversation continued from there. Maps, blueprints and diagrams were brought forth in an attempt to illustrate courses of actions. Several times Kaltor found himself sitting back to watch the manner in which Alamora commanded those around her. She was a born leader, just like her mother and father. It had just taken her a little longer to figure it out. His doubts concerning her were slowly fading as she was quickly proving herself more than capable of leading the final attack on Rupert’s forces. When the morning sun had passed well over to the west casting long, fading shadows, Lady Resmiranda adjourned the meeting. The wind was steadily picking up force and the commanders were becoming antsy.

“Would you like some company at dinner tonight Ally?” She barely caught the way in which he stammered before called her Ally. Although she was still quite upset she simply couldn’t ignore him. Hadn’t he been her friend before anything else? Slowing her pace she cast a glance over her shoulder. He stood waiting at the edge of the tent, like a child eagerly awaiting the end of a time-out. Smiling softly she nodded.

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Within moments he was at her side. She was glad for the company, as being along didn’t quite suite her as it used to. “Have you heard anything about Glen?”

“As far as I know he’s doing well. His troop has had minimal casualties these past few days. I don’t think we’ll get to see him before we launch the final attack though.” Softly she nodded.

“And what of my brother?” He could detect the anxious note she so desperately tried to conceal. Her avoidance of his name only proved to him that she regretted their last words.

“Honestly, I don’t know. He jumps from troop to troop on a daily basis. The last I heard he was doing fine.” Solemnly she nodded, lowering her head as they walked to the food tent. The rest of the soldiers had already been fed and sat huddled around their fires, speaking in hushed tones about the final battle. News spread faster than wildfire in such tight quarters.

“He’ll be alright.” Her words were spoken more as a personal comfort. A sort of desperate plea to whoever cared to listen. As a particularly strong gust of wind rushed past them Kaltor tentatively placed his arm about her shoulders.

“Yes, that he will.” Her grateful smile was genuine, the first actual sign of forgiveness that he’d seen from her. Pulling her closer in a form of comradery he continued to lead the way.

The meal was nothing particularly noteworthy; a simple meat and vegetable stew with fresh bread. Although much seemed to be said between the two, no words were actually spoken. An understanding of boundaries had been established through sideways glances and cautious movements. Outside the tent they could hear the wind picking up strength, causing the canvassed walls of the tent to billow and strain in protest. By morning the dragon clans would have arrived. By nightfall she would be entering Rupert’s castle. The idea frightened her more than she’d ever let on. Before she knew it she was on her way to the make-shift sparring field that she and Marcus had made.

“Would you care to have a go at it?” Kaltor was already shedding his cloak and rolling up his sleeves. Despite the vicious chill that had settled in her bones she agreed by removing her own cloak.

“Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re a king.” Her mischievous albeit weary grin was cast under a veil of shadow as she entered her fighting stance.

“Oh trust me Ally, I wouldn’t dream of it.” And he wouldn’t. She was a great deal stronger than any of the soldiers there, including himself. When Marick had sent him to Lady Resmiranda’s tent the previous night it was to have a conference with Marcus.

Marcus revealed that he was in fact a previous ruler of Alkelam, the underground dwarf kingdom of legend. His powers were hereditary, as was expected. What was not expected, however, was the knowledge of his true age. Marcus had fought side by side with Alamora’s parents which had eventually cost him his throne. Long before that he had witnessed Rupert’s despotic rise to power. His mastery of his powers was great enough that it rivaled even that of Uriah’s, Alamora’s father. Resmiranda had asked him then if he would be willing to train with her, just until the battle, as Marcus had nothing left to give. Marcus was sure that if they were to spar again, even his ancient wards wouldn’t be able to save him as they had been so far.

“Let us start with a warm-up, shall we?” Before he could utter a word he watched as she transformed before his very eyes. Her body became rigid yet relaxed all at once, the air about her wavering as she concentrated the energy into her hands. What struck him most was the glow in her eyes. The same glow he’d seen the day she’d lost control.

All at once she rushed forward on feet so swift he barely had time to react. Dodging her fist he used the momentary lull to bring his own powers to the surface. While she had been on her way to Shinimani he’d managed to focus his dragon breath into a tangible attack rather than the rage that fueled the ancient power. Just as he turned to counter her initial attack he felt a fist slam into his stomach, earning a startled grunt. Allowing a small amount of his power to escape he shoved her back, watching as she landed lightly before taking off once again. When had she become so quick and so strong? He was afraid to lash out at her as he would a typical opponent because of who she was. It simply wouldn’t be right.

“Come on Kaltor, is that all you’ve got?” This time, as she reached out to hit him, he met her fist with his own. A sharp crack filled the air as both powers collided in a thin sheet of blue and green. Kaltor’s eyes flickered dangerously in excitement, the animalistic aspect of his dragon blood surfacing.

“I’m just getting started.” Lifting his right foot he brought it forth in a lung, allowing his power to course through his foot enough to shake the ground. Alamora stumbled slightly, therefore blinded to his energy attack. When she finally caught sight of it she crouched low, placing one knee on the ground while balancing herself with her hands on either side of her foot. It appeared from his point of view that all she did was glare at the ball of energy before it was sent hurtling off in the opposite direction. Once again she launched herself into a full on frontal assault.

For several minutes they engaged in hand to hand combat, neither truly gaining ground over the other. There efforts came to a standstill when once again the force of their energy colliding pushed them apart. Panting heavily, Kaltor leaned upon his knees to catch his breath. Alamora stood calmly, casually pushing aside her bangs and wiping the sweat from her delicate brow. Her skin felt as if it was on fire from the intense cold yet her insides were burning a true heat, causing her to ignore everything else. Standing tall Alamora leaned her head to one side then the other, stretching the stiff muscles. Night had long ago consumed the land, stealing away all light safe for the glow of their encampment. Her mouth curved once more into a grin, almost sinister in its intensity.

“That was a nice warm-up session, don’t you think? Are you ready to fight?” Kaltor felt his stomach drop. He was having a hard enough time keeping up with her as it was. To be reminded that their little game was only preparation for the actual sparring made his head hurt. Sucking in a deep breath he gathered his pride.

“I’m ready for whatever you have to dish out.” He hoped his body could live up to his words. Crouching low she extended her hand and waved him forward.

“Show me what you’re made of Kal.” His delight over hearing her use his nickname came and went as he released an energy attack.

Before either one knew what was happening they were scooting further and further away from their initial starting point. The two were so engrossed in their match that they didn’t notice the large craters they created or the burn marks scattering their skin. Kaltor desperately pushed himself onward, not wanting to lose to her in such a simple battle. One particularly close attack left his shirt in tatters, exposing the darker blue scar tissue covering his chest. Alamora hit him with one final attack, knocking him onto his back. The air having been knocked out of him all he could do was simply sit and stare up at the night sky. Alamora walked over to him, the glow having left her eyes. For a moment she looked down at him, her gaze resting upon the three, long scars that adorned his chest. He watched as something flashed through her eyes before her hand was outstretched to him.

“Come, it is well into the night. We need rest.” Taking her hand he allowed her to help him up. If he was tired from this match he couldn’t imagine how she was coping. She’d been more than ready to go to bed before they’d even started. Together they retrieved their cloaks, amusedly pointing out the burn marks they had accumulated. The wind had become brutal, whipping about them at ferocious speeds, threatening to knock them both off their feet.

As the two retreated to Alamora’s tent for some tea before bed, Marcus watched them from behind. Kaltor’s abilities impressed him greatly. They were far more advanced than he would have expected. He was already twice as strong as his father had been and was perhaps even stronger than Uriah had been at his peak. Alamora’s powers were even more stunning. From simply watching the two he could tell she had been holding back for fear of seriously hurting her companion. Perhaps it was slightly selfish of him but he took pride in what he had taught them. He had helped train the two most powerful beings alive. Together he could only imagine what they could do. One thing was for sure—they were a force to be reckoned with.

Alkelam (Ahl-keh-lahm)- taken from the Hebrew ‘Elam’ meaning hidden and the Latinized Greek ‘Alke’ meaning strength

Eliane (Eh-lee-ain)- French, taken from the Roman family name Aelianus which is derived from the Greek ‘Helios’ meaning sun

Uriah (Yoo-ree-uh)- From the Hebrew name ‘Uriyah’ which meant ‘Yaweh is my light’. In the Old Testament it is the name of a Hittite warrior in King David's army, the first husband of Bathsheba. David desired Bathsheba so he placed Uriah in the forefront of battle so he would be killed. I thought it was suiting considering what happened to Alamora’s father.

Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I promise that by July 5th I'll have another chapter for you guys, deal? Later!