Chapter 1

The runic symbol melted into the polished stone, leaving an imprint more sensed than seen. Marley picked up the power-infused rock, inspecting it for the smallest of flaws. He nodded to himself, satisfied the runestone would serve, and with careful hands placed it on the cooling bench.

An errant breeze stirred his notes, sending a handful fluttering across the wood-planked floor. The room appeared empty, but as Marley stooped to gather the scattered notes, an itch beneath his shoulder blades said he was not alone.

“Show yourself. I will not be plagued by tiresome games.”

Something tapped him sharply on his forehead. Marley traced out a runic symbol in the air with his fingertip. He drew only upon his own essence to form the command within his mind. Then he named it with a quiet word.

A petite creature, barely a hand-span tall, appeared in front of him. She fluttered and swooped and twirled not an arm’s length from his nose. Her frame so delicate and finely boned, the runesmith gave little credence that the slap came from her until she spoke.

“You deserve every bit of it, Marley Stonebender. I have searched for you since the first night of Raisha’s waxing, and now the moon will shine full-faced soon enough.”

The sprite double flipped backward and disappeared as if to show him his essence-weaving meant nothing to the wind. Again Marley felt a pinch at the center of his forehead. His hand came up to shelter the now tender area about his scar and the small creature reappeared on his raised arm, whispering in his ear.

“Why have you hidden away? If not for the Fates, I would still be searching for you along the North Firasian Sea.”

The runesmith lowered his arm, realizing who’d sent her, but the sprite darted for his stack of rune notations, looking intent on mischief. Not wanting to hurt her, even if he could, but not wanting his work disrupted, either. He bowed solemnly.

“Well, and well, pardon me for my… neglect. I didn’t realize I needed to keep Ymarii apprised of my activities.”

The sprite paused and turned back to him. Encouraged, Marley sat on a bench at the end of his cot hoping to convince her he was not hiding from her or Ymarii. “I am an outcast from my people and an anathema to the essence-weavers of the Tavir Academy. So now I travel the lands paying my way with songs, information, and runestones. Please, Ymarii would not send a bit of a breeze such as you to fetch one such as me without a dire cause.”

“Zeph is my name and don’t you call me a bit of a breeze. I came off a whirlwind straight from the tip of Ymarii’s talon and my name flew from her mouth to dry my wings and quicken my song.”

Tightness squeezed Marley’s shoulders and he absently kneaded the muscles. He was fairly certain Ymarii sent this precocious little pipsqueak just to vex him. A reminder of how annoyed she was the last time he and Ymarii parted. The runesmith picked up his ale flask, taking a long pull as he watched the sprite.

Mesmerized for a moment, he watched as she whirled in wider and wider circles. Soon tendrils of her essence tugged at his beard, and he realized she expected a formal reply. Marley capped the flask and set it aside, duly reprimanded.

“Your pardon once again. I don’t believe you bring me a soft song of Kalyani’s warm rain, but please, give me your words, young Zeph.”

“My song is but a line. It is only at its start. The many things the wind might hear, each one I have ignored.” Zeph fluttered in close, her next words a breath against his whiskered cheek. “For the Dragon’s words must stay pure, until runesmith, you have heard.”

He stayed quiet, but again signaled his willingness to listen with a nod.

“The token given must be reclaimed, for the boon required will now be named.” The wind sprite hung before him, the slightest beat of her wings holding her in place. “My song is for you, Marley Stonebender. Ymarii summons you to honor your word and reclaim your En’kur-Mata.”

Marley sat back with a sigh that sent Zeph tumbling backward. The scar on his forehead tingled when Zeph spoke of his stone eye. The runesmith reached up to touch the thick lines of old scar tissue blooming like some cockeyed windrose from between his brows. It’d been long and long since he’d thought of that time.

Close to fifty years had passed since he’d left the tutelage of Atheryl’s Gate Guardian, the Dragon Ymarii. And closer to a hundred years than not, since he’d made that bond of honor with her in return for the gift of the dragon tongue and the knowledge of crafting dragon runes. A bond sealed with his third eye, his En’kur-Mata… and never completed.

“I will speak with my partners,” Marley said with a sigh. “Will Glyf be meeting me in Windy Cove?”

“Yes, yes,” Zeph flipped and twirled before Marley as he headed for the door. “Glyf will mark the time there until the night of Moonglow in the month of Trecere.” The wind sprite grabbed his hair as she landed on his shoulder.

Marley snatched his cloak from a wall hook. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay here while I take care of the evening’s business and speak with my friends, now could I?”

“Don’t let my song become a lament,” she said with a pout and disappeared.

Clumps of mud marred snow still clung to the sides of the outbuildings between Marley’s workshop and the Inn. Still, the drizzle that misted his head no longer held the bitter bite of deep nebril as he picked his way past the stable, avoiding what he could of the slushy mess. Kicking the mud from his boots at the entrance, Marley surveyed the great room of The Dancing Stallion with a casual glance.

He spotted his friend Drogan Thane at the back bar, chatterwacking with the innkeeper. They looked up when the door closed, and Drogan waved him over. With a nod, Marley wove his way through the evening custom toward the bar.

The third son of King Khalorn Thane, Drogan, had slipped into one of the proverbial orders of last-in-line-for-kingship and a life of relative anonymity. Marley had watched Drogan grow in glimpses and glimmers to adulthood through his travels during the time he was master runesmith for the Tavir Academy. Then four years ago, the Fates brought them together once again. This time as allies and friends for the word-weavers’ guild, the Echoing Note.

“Let’s sit for a few moments. I’ve news, and I don’t want to get a kink in my neck, staring up at the two of you,” Marley said with a chuckle.

They moved to the end of the counter and a table set aside for the innkeeper and his friends. With a mug-ladened fist, the innkeeper invited Marley and Drogan to sit, shoving an ale toward each of them.

“What about Jayf?” Drogan asked, sweeping up his drink. He slid his chair against the wall and sat, saying it was a better view.

Marley grinned. He knew his friend’s aversion to having his back open and unguarded. “I will get to him soon enough, but while he entertains the crowd tonight, we can talk uninterrupted.” He took the proffered mug and sat.

“So what’s got your beard in such a tangle?” Drogan asked, tipping his chair against the wall, amusement dancing in his eyes.

The runesmith hated to spoil the cheerful mood, but he knew the more warning he gave over his departure, the better. Once more, he scanned the great room. Not seeing any sign of his new little companion, he sighed in relief. “I know this is unexpected, but I must ride south within a five-day.”

There was a distinct hiss in his ear as the last word left his mouth, but when nothing amiss happened, he turned his attention back to his friends. Both of the men’s faces wore a look of concerned confusion, but neither spoke until Marley drained his ale. As he sat looking over the bottom rim of the mug, they both shot questions at him.

Marley set the mug down with a clunk. “It is a debt of honor. I can not, nay, will not put it aside. There’s little beyond that to say.” He spread his hands. “I don’t know what this journey entails. Except it will last longer than our contracted engagement here… For that I am sorry.” He noticed how the flame of the candle on their table flared and jumped as he spoke, and hoped Zeph wouldn’t appear.

“What about the Guild Longriders’ reports? We can’t leave without receiving the missives gathered for the Echoing Note.” Drogan said, rubbing his hand across the scruff on his cheek.

Marley frowned, but before he could answer, Jayf began the last song of his set, drawing everyone’s attention to his makeshift stage in the corner.

“What song is this?” Drogan asked. The two front legs of his chair came down with a thunk as he strained forward to listen.

The runesmith grinned and put a finger to his lips to shush his friend. He stood and turned, his gaze settling on the disquieting face of the dragon kin, Jayf. Marley’s other partner sat upon a small stool atop a table next to the hearth. This was Jayf’s clever solution to keep those too curious for his comfort away. And while it still gave them a view, it also allowed him to see them.

For the most part, Jayf looked like a human boy. The dragonkin might even pass for a vortyl youth… at least from a distance. But close up, the angles and planes of his small face were off, his age indiscernible. Dark hair flowed down his back from a coiled topknot, a hand-span high, giving him the illusion of greater height.

Still, it was his eyes, large and round, that one remembered. There are many songs sung and stories told about the dragonkin. Most said you should not stare into the depths of their swirling irises overlong. It was true Marley felt, one might lose themselves in the ethereal quality of his blue and green eyes, but then that was another kind of fool.

However, right this moment, it was the exquisite song he sang that seemed to entrance the folk gathered. Like stalks of grain in a gentle wind, the listeners swayed in silence, and when Jayf finished, they erupted in applause.

“That was an outstanding rendition of Lamarii, the first Atheryl guardian’s binding of the Atheryl Gate,” Marley said to his friends. The runesmith pulled his chair around. But before he took a seat, the clapping turned into giggles and gasps of delight. He turned back to find Zeph twirling and flitting around Jayf in ever-widening circles. Marley groaned, wishing the pesky breeze would once more make herself invisible and unobtrusive.

“I will return, in a moment,” he growled over his shoulder, leaving Drogan and the innkeeper gaping. He guessed Zeph decided a five-day was too much notice, and he wondered if tomorrow morning would be soon enough.

The wind sprite spun about in wilder, more chaotic gyrations as Marley approached. And soon stray bits of whatever lay on the floor and tables joined her dance as she flung them into the air and at the inn’s clientele. Gasps and exclamations of dismay and anger soon replaced the giggles and delight.

Marley dodged what he could, his frustration mounting, but before he reached the makeshift stage, the door slammed open. In strode the two overdue guild longriders. The commotion around the hearth went quiet. Zeph vanished as if the sharp gust of wind preceding the riders was a rebuke from Ymarii herself.

Marley glanced back at Drogan and jerked his head towards the stairs. Drogan nodded and leaned over to whisper to the innkeeper and Marley turned back to signal Jayf. The dragonkin gave a bow to his audience with his usual flourish and disappeared.