As the sun reached its zenith in the sky above, Jeskar shouted orders and his people broke down their tents and gathered what little belongings they had. Nessalir stood with Orla in the center of a ring of stones they had gathered, and Iarius stood outside that ring, watching them.

  "The road opens to your blood," Nessalir told her. She took her hand ax from her belt and held it out to Orla. "The elves require only their will to open the way, but you will require more than that."

  Orla took the ax. "My blood must mark the ground, I take it?"

  "Yes. And it must mark each and every person who passes through the portal." Nessalir tapped her forehead. "When I traveled with the elves, they would mark me here, so that I might walk the aislaith alongside them."

  Beside Iarius, Toli stirred. "There are nearly fifty people in this camp!" he protested. "She cannot mark them all!"

  "Only a drop or two per head is required," said Nessalir.

  "I will have to be the last one through," Orla noted, "if I am to mark everyone before they enter." She looked to her husband. "You will go first, and protect our people on the other side."

  "But my love—" Toli objected.

  "You must," Orla interrupted. "We know not what awaits us in Lorveg. There may be brigands, or beasts, or worse. My brother and his warriors are even now mounting a defense, and I must remain here. There can be no one else. Please, promise me you will go first through the aislaith and guard our people as they emerge from the Dream Roads."

  Toli frowned, he swallowed, and he nodded. "I promise."

  The people gathered around the circle. From the mountain path, Iarius could now hear the thunder of hooves. He heard Jeskar's voice cry out: "archers!"

  "Cut your palm, let the blood fall to the earth, and take my hand," Nessalir told Orla. "Close your eyes and focus on your blood, focus on the realm of dreams which you have felt the edges of, just outside your awareness. Focus on my hand, and my pulse, and feel my thoughts as I recall Lost Lorveg, and you shall share my dream and open the way."

  Orla took the ax, and she slid its head across her palm. She held out her hand, clenched a fist, and let a few drops fall to the dirt at her feet. She clasped Nessalir's hand, and she closed her eyes. The dragonblooded woman did the same.

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  Shouts from further down the mountain path. "Hold!" came Jeskar's cry. "Hold!"

  The blood at Orla's feet began to glow. The glow spread from there, all across the ground, like vines. Those vines encompassed the circle of stones, twisted in on themselves, until the two women stood in the center of red light.

  "Can you feel it?" asked Nessalir. "Can you feel the door?"

  "Yes," said Orla.

  "Open it."

  And from the light, the glowing vines rose. They weaved about themselves, formed an archway in the center of the ring, just over Orla's head. Nessalir opened her eyes and stepped back, out of the circle. Orla opened her eyes and stared at the arch of light she had conjured.

  "I did that?" she asked. "My blood summoned this…?"

  Somebody screamed. Jeskar shouted: "Now!" A great booming, crumbling noise resounded across the mountain.

  "Time is short," said Nessalir. "Send them through."

  Orla nodded, and she gestured for her husband to step forward. He did so, and Orla kissed him before using her thumb to mark his forehead with her blood.

  "Go forth," she told him. "Prepare the way."

  "I shall," said Toli, and he stepped through the archway and vanished.

  One by one, the bandits stepped forward to receive Orla's blood and walk through the archway.

  "My ax," Nessalir requested, and Orla handed it to her. "I will go now and assist your brother."

  "May the stars light your way," said Orla.

  Nessalir left the vicinity of the circle, and Iarius hurried after her. They reached the road and the ravine, where archers let their arrows fly upon the Equines, and bandits drove spears into the ground for their horses to impale themselves upon. Jeskar had ordered a rockslide, and debris now covered the mouth of the ravine. It had crushed a number of the Equines beneath dirt and stone, but enough had escaped that they now threatened to overrun the bandits.

  The virem draconem drew her sword. She held it in her right hand, and her ax in her left. She approached the fighting, and prepared for combat.

  Iarius watched as, ahead of her, Pilus Opaedes directed his steed to leap over the barricade of spears. He raised a spear of his own as he did so, and no sooner had the horse's hooves touched the ground than he had thrust his weapon forward.

  The point struck true. The bandit before him howled in pain as the spear when through his stomach and out his back. The Pilus of the Equine Century jerked his weapon back, and the barb caught on the bandit's flesh, tore it, sprayed the canyon with gore.

  The bandit fell, and Iarius felt his breath catch, for the fallen bandit was none other than Jeskar.

  Nessalir charged forward.