Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

- The Long Ride -

As the heat of the outside world permeated the tent, Alf settled back into his makeshift pillow. With a weary sigh, he sent another gust of wind towards the ice blocks he had created earlier. He'd never known the dessert could be so hot. Even in his days of serving as a High Lord, Alf hadn't needed to pass through any of Alfireá's dry, barren expanses. Then again, the land around Vackzilian's tower had definitely been comparable to a desert, and he had walked through that place. Alf shook his head. I'm glad I don't have to go through that again, he thought to himself.

Turning his mind to more pleasant matters, Alf watched as Olivia leaned over several diagrams of the gypsies' takoorah. According to Drake, she had been going at it with gusto for several hours now. Using the holographic gems they had taken from Drake's safe house, she'd created a three-dimensional scrying of the traveling device and its inner workings.

"And this should lead here," Olivia muttered, tracing one of the random wires in her holograms as she blew an errant strand of hair out of her face.

Alf grinned while he continued to cool off the interior of the tent. When he'd seen Ritsa dragging Olivia around the camp, he'd suspected she'd gone with her just so she could get a better look at the machines. Olivia never could turn away a good mystery, and now that she had removed the shield from Rex's boot—something Alf wished he could've seen—she was free to study the takoorah to her heart's content.

Of course, Alf had a niggling suspicion Livy was also using them to avoid thinking about her childhood.

Growing up together, he'd noticed that every time Olivia went through an emotional hardship, she'd throw herself into her studies and her work. In fact, after Alf had come back to life, Harold had told him how Olivia had worked herself to the bone to avoid thinking about his death.

Ya, Alf thought to himself as Olivia stared at the images before her with narrowed eyes and an almost manic concentration. She's definitely trying to avoid something.

And she's not the only one.

Alf glanced at Drake.

Hunched over in the corner of the closed, sunlit tent, Drake tinkered with several objects in his hands, ignoring the world around him. He, more than any of them, knew what it was like to suffer loss: his father, his bodyguards, and childhood friends, his kingdom, and his home were all gone. He, like Olivia, was avoiding the pain by throwing himself into his work, and now apparently he had found something else to occupy his attention....

Other than retrieving their stolen goods that is, Alf thought with a wolfish grin as he sent another gust of wind toward his ice blocks. Silver had told him how the gypsies had helped themselves to their stuff, and in return, Drake had helped himself to getting it back. It's a good thing the prince did, Alf chuckled to himself. If he hadn't, things could've gotten violent. Of course, Zaphaniea and Rex would've likely relished bashing a few heads together and stamping on a few toes, but Alf had had enough fighting after the last few days.

Having a moment of peace was nice.

Although, he had to admit he was kind of bored.

With the tent flaps closed to avoid the pressing heat, Alf couldn't even watch the scorching desert race by, and the spellbook in his left hand could only hold his attention for so long.

He wasn't the only one struggling with boredom.

The maids lounged on a mound of pelts as Scarlet quietly read a book to them; Rex swung his sword around in the back of the tent and listened to it hum as he swished it through the air. And Zaphaniea leaned against a crate, listening to whatever Scarlet was reading while forming weird shapes with her spheres.