Extinction

"If the wind hadn't shifted, I'd have had you," Yarno said.

Ryld gri

"You shouldn't be here," he told the boy. "If the priestesses find you within their sacred grove. .»

The boy's eyes narrowed, and he asked, "How many have you killed?"

It took Ryld a moment to realize what the boy was asking. The question was one he was often asked by the students at Melee-Magthere?and one he always declined to answer. "The proud spider gets caught in Its own web," he would quote, reminding them that hidden prowess with weapons was a weapon in and of itself. But Yarno was talking about the priestesses?which reminded Ryld of his promise to the boy.

"They didn't kill Halisstra," he told Yarno.

The boy scratched his ear.

"You rescued her?" he asked. "Then why are you still?"

Hearing footsteps approaching on the trail behind him, Ryld tried to shoo the boy away.

"Go," the weapons master said. "Hurry. If they find you. ."

Seeing Yarno tense, Ryld whirled around, drawing Splitter a second time. Relief flooded through him as he saw it was only Halisstra?whichever of the priestesses she'd been talking with must have turned down a different trail. She halted abruptly as she saw Yarno and frowned?and Ryld groaned as he realized what was happening. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the boy shifting back into wolf form?the worst thing Yarno could have done in that moment. If he'd stayed in human form, Ryld might have passed him off as a scattering, but…

"Monster!" Halisstra gasped.

In that same moment, Yarno leaped toward her. Fortunately, Ryld was swifter. Dropping Splitter, he caught the werewolf by his haunches and slammed him to the ground.

"Stop," Ryld grunted through gritted teeth. Yarno wriggled in his arms, teeth bared in a threatening growl as he struggled to snap at Halisstra. "That's Mistress Melarn. The one I came to rescue."

Halisstra, meanwhile, yanked her hunting horn from her belt and raised it to her lips. Still hanging onto the struggling Yarno, Ryld twisted his body like an eel and lashed out with his feet, tripping her.

Halisstra fell, dropping the horn. She scrambled for it.

"Don't blow it!" Ryld exclaimed.

Halisstra glared at him as she recovered the horn and backed out of range of his feet.

"Are you mad?" she asked as she climbed to her feet. "That's a shapeshifter."

Once again, she raised the horn to her lips.

"He won't hurt you," Ryld gritted. To prove it, he released Yarno and sprang to his feet. "Go!" he ordered. "Flee!"

Without waiting to see if Yarno obeyed, Ryld whirled toward Halisstra and grabbed her arm, forcing the horn away from her lips.

Yarno stood panting a moment, glancing between Ryld and Halisstra. Then?with one final snarl at the priestess?he leaped away into the bushes.

Halisstra yanked her arm out of Ryld's grasp and glared at him. Behind the glare was a hint of distrust.

"You knew that boy was a … an animal… thing."

"Yarno is harmless," Ryld said, returning Splitter to its sheath.

"He's a monster. Eilistraee has commanded us to clear this wood of vermin like him."

Ryld winced.

"He's a boy," he sighed. "Just a boy."

Halisstra shook her head, not understanding.

"Then why do you care if he lives or dies?" she asked.

Ryld opened his mouth, trying to find the words.

"Because he. ." the weapons master fumbled, confused himself. "He reminds me of myself at that age."

"How is that possible? You're a drow, and he's …" Halisstra paused, uncertain what to call the boy.

"He's a 'werewolf, " Ryld said, supplying her with the word. "And hunted. And frightened. Just like I was, once."

For a heartbeat or two, Halisstra stared into his eyes, and Ryld thought she had understood. Then she lifted her horn.

"He may look like a boy, but he's a monster," she said firmly.

"And you're a First Daughter," Ryld replied, grabbing Halisstra's hand. "Always one of the hunters?never one of the hunted. You never had to survive in the Stenchstreets."

Halisstra paused, and Ryld realized she might not know exactly what the Stenchstreets was.

"But you're a noble drow too," she said. "Aren't you?"

"I have no House," Ryld answered. "I never have."

He sighed, wondering what he was doing. Was he really choosing to stand against Halisstra?the woman he loved?for the sake of a boy he'd only just met. For a werewolf? What kind of drow was he?

The kind who remembered what it was like to be a small boy and frightened.

Ryld let go of Halisstra's hand.

"Summon the hunt then, if you must," he told her. "But know that, if you do, I'm leaving."

Halisstra's mouth gaped.

"You're asking me to choose between you," she said, "and my sacred duty to the goddess."

"I'm asking you to choose between what is wrong and what is right."

"Strange words, coming from the mouth of a drow." She stared off into the moonlit forest, hefting the horn in her hand. Then, slowly, she lowered it.

Relieved, Ryld took Halisstra's hand and bowed low over it, brushing the back of it with his lips.

"Thank you," he said.

Halisstra yanked her hand free?and for a terrible moment Ryld thought he was going to be chastised?but instead Halisstra lifted his chin and kissed him fiercely. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

Closing his eyes, Ryld felt her lips brush his ear?and heard a whisper so faint he was certain it hadn't been meant for him.

"Eilistraee, forgive me. I love him."

Then, taking him by the hand, she led him to the ancient ruin the priestesses had set aside as their shelter.

As soon as they were inside, she kissed him again. Her lips pressed into his with a fierceness uncharacteristic of her. They had kissed before, it was true, but not like that. All she had permitted him, before that night, were brief, almost chaste brushes of his lips against hers. Obedient male that he was, he had not dared ask for more. Bur that kiss. . that was the kind of kiss his fantasies had been filled with. Eagerly, he returned it, barely keeping in check the hard, insistent heat that was threatening to overwhelm him.

"I want you," Halisstra said, breaking away from the kiss just long enough to gasp out the words. "I want to take you. Here. Now."

At these words, Ryld felt self-control slide completely from his grasp. Breathing rapidly?where had his warrior's training fled to??he slid Splitter from his back and tossed the greatsword aside, then rapidly began shucking his armor.

Halisstra was stripping off her own armor and clothing, then she was kissing him again, one hand pressing against the back of his head, the other snaking tight around his waist, making the process of undressing even more difficult. For one panicked moment, Ryld had a vision of himself as a fly, caught in a spider's web. Halisstra's arms were tight around him, pulling him closer, her mouth devouring him. Her teeth bit passionately into his neck, then his chest, then the hard muscle of his stomach, and onward.

For several long, dizzy moments Ryld flung his head back and stared sightlessly at the sagging ceiling of the ruin. Dimly he was aware of the rough floor rushing up to meet his back, of a corner of his vambrace digging with blissful pain into his shoulder.

Halisstra was on top of him. For just a moment, her hair seemed streaked with silver as she tossed it back behind her shoulders, and Ryld was reminded of the woman who had appeared to him in the bellado

Much later, Halisstra touched his shoulder and whispered, "Ryld? Are you in Reverie? I wanted to speak to you about something."