Jerrika was dizzy, her warrior's training was no match for days of inactivity not to mention injuries and pain. She made it out of the castle, but even flattened against the outer walls, staring at the guard tower and Sentinel looming in the background, she couldn't bring herself to make the dash against the odds past the shack that guarded the entrance to the mountain. It was crawling in armed patrols anyway, there was no way she could get by them.

The question was if she was really like Ondrea. If she was, then she knew she could transform herself again and fly.

Where would she fly?

Flight wouldn't get her home, not to Aquaria. Her breath came hard in anxiety, she was in danger and she could be spotted any second. How long could she survive outside the mountain anyway?

If she could fly, she could circle the shack, scare the guards away and then transform back and get inside. It might be her only hope.

Jerrika concentrated on the feelings she'd experienced before, she called on Losira to remind her, she tapped into the link with Ondrea, and she imagined herself winged and brazen, ready to fight.

It worked. She felt her hair become gilded, her skin, pulled taut over her bones which felt strong, but brittle as they expanded. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, glorious golden and rust colored wings flattened vibrantly ready to expand. Jerrika took one deeply exhilarating breath and suddenly lifted the wings that adorned her shoulders and let her arms rise and direct them feeling the tenuous lifting sensation of her first flight. She quickly ascertained that she went where she turned her face, and if she bent herself forward she would lay in the air pointed in the direction she wished to go, the further she bent the faster she would go.

In two flaps, she was above the castle, in three out of range of the arrows that may have been pointed at her. Lifting the wings wasn't as hard as she'd thought it would be at first, as they seemed to rise of their own accord with very little effort on her part. 

The air around the castle was dark. For a moment Jerrika had the queerest desire to fly away, to find herself a better place, away from all of this, all the searching, the politics, the battles, the mind games. She glanced at the Mountain, its majestic peaks soaring far above her. What if she could simply turn her back and fly away from it? Never to return? Who would miss her? Who would care?

Hot on the heels of that thought were the angry repercussions she'd expected to hear in the voice of Kara, or Galantyne, berating her for foolishness and betrayal. Her life had been devoted solely to finding the Talisman, her existence demanded her loyalty to their cause. She glared at the freedom of the open sea; from above it glistened in shimmering waves of light and undulating motion. Somewhere out there her destiny lay. 

Shame overcame curiosity, and she lowered her face toward the ground and her fear. Fear of being caught, fear of letting them down.

It felt like what she imagined the sea to feel like. And suddenly she wanted very much to stay in this transformation forever.

To the north, away from the crystal fields that gleamed in wicked warning to all who would pass, lay a marshy swamp. They stretched for miles in one direction, opposite them were the flatlands, a hot arid looking area, covered in short stubbly looking trees and bushes, still fascinating to one who had never beheld them.

There were lights here and there from villages closer to the swamp. What lay beyond?

There would be no safety in the villages for her. And she didn't know if in her human form she'd be able to survive in the toxic air for long. Her kai gave her access to water, not air. Her transformation gave her flight and apparently like the kai, she could breathe when in this form. But what about when she was not?

Oh, how she longed to be free!

She glanced back at the mountain. Freedom for self? Or freedom for all?

There really was no choice.

********

Crevan didn't announce himself as he strode the hall of prisoners and approached the Princess's door. There were no guards. He projected into his Zalez and asked the Quarso to locate the guards that should have been there.

Crevan pushed it open cautiously. Inside the room, the bed and floor were covered in shattered glass. It gleamed in the silken silver moonlight above. He was able to see past the Princess's chambers into the room the witch had inhabited. Glass shards were everywhere. Tiny drops of red blood spattered the floor like crimson teardrops.

She was already gone.

He looked up to the silvery patch of sky that during the day would let in light. It was still covered in glass. No rescue from a beautiful and inexperienced Harpyiae had happened. Her escape had to have been through Adara's adjoining rooms.

Boots pounding down the halls alerted him to the presence of other Quarso. He looked up at Jayce's alarmed expression.

"We heard you call for guards! What has happened here?" Jayce's feral eyes seared the situation, but a noticeable lack of concern for the Witch was apparent in his less than hurried actions.

Jayce and his companion, Terryn, both turned in wary circles eyeing the damage and determining which direction the assailant had gone.

"What's her story?" Terryn jerked his head in Adara's direction, obviously not deterred by her status as resident witch. Crevan knew many of the men didn't believe in magic, and considered all their abilities simply natural and understood principles of their existence.

"She must have seen it happen. I'm thinking someone came here, killed the witch and freed the searcher."

Crevan only had to point and nod his head to get his men to do his bidding as he secured the area, organized the search and vented his frustration.

Jayce was less bulky than all of the other Quarso, as he knelt to finger the blood on the floor. "From the glass, do you think? Or did she break the glass herself and get out?" He jerked his head toward the outer doorway and Crevan and Terryn followed.

"I'm going outside. I think the girl would have headed straight to the mountain where she stands the best chances." He turned without having been dismissed, but Crevan didn't stop him, as Jayce's hunches were usually correct.

"I'll check the outer perimeter. I doubt they'd stay inside long, the dark magic would be a deterrent." Terryn agreed and took off at a fast clip down the hall. Crevan was glad those two had answered his summons first and hadn't thought to question where Rion was. Both had their suspicions, and were curious, but not indecently so.

Crevan shuddered at the thought of what Quildor would say to this turn of events. No matter that he, Crevan, his trusted and highest ranking Quarso, was contemplating mutiny. Those thoughts would be kept to himself. He issued more orders as more guards came and then took off through the halls toward Quildor's suites. He was duty bound --still.

Their liege would have to be told.

*****