After meeting with Raven and Silvara and learning what she could from that brief exchange, she spent the next few days working out a trade with some of the locals for different necessities. Viewsk and Spyke would not want for fresh meat, and Arienne would be kept busy making plant growth and crop enhancing potions. She had stopped at the temple, briefly, to let Siannodell know she had returned, and to ask offhand about the condition of the human she had left in the priestess's care. Siannodell had seen the truth of Arienne's supposedly casual question reflected in the desperate hope that shone in the elven woman's blue eyes. The priestess had sadly informed Arienne that there had been little change in Zirk's condition, but tried to bolster the statement by adding that sometimes things changed overnight....and that Arienne should never give up hope. Siannodell had asked if she would want to see him, but the elf-maiden had not the heart to subject herself to needless torture. And gazing into Zirk's empty eyes would have been the worst sort of torture for her, indeed. So she had gently declined, thanking Sia and hurrying back to the relative peace of her tower, and if the tears of the past streaked her fair face, then no one but Sia had seen them.

 

Arienne returned to her tower and flew to the top, using her ring. She landed feather-lightly next to the drowsing wyvern, who slit an eye in her direction and grumbled a low, purring welcome when she set down. Approaching him quietly, Arie sat down and curled up next to the warmth of Spyke's feathered breast. The wyvern sensed her mood and brought his head down to nuzzle her gently. It had been tiring work coming home, and trying to get situated again, and Arienne drifted off to sleep safe in the cradle of the wyvern that protectively curled his neck around her small form.

Arienne dreamt within the shelter of Spyke's embrace, and her dreams were strange. She was standing at the top of a cold, lonely hill, with a desolate, broken, black slate stone landscape stretching infinitely all around her. The sky was a deep, threatening maroon color, and it seemed as if the temperature must be close to freezing, but it didn't affect her. She gazed around her in confusion and into the distance, spying a huge, black thunderhead roiling towards her at incredible speed. Within an eyeblink, it had reached the sky above her and a sizzling finger of electric red lightning streaked down at her, missing her by mere inches. It blackened a spot near her, leaving the smell of ozone in its wake...and an odd, lingering, fetid odor of decay.

 

Arienne felt a chill touch on her shoulder and whirled, her crystal blue eyes widening in fear, but there was only a large raven with glowing red eyes crouched a few feet behind her. It regarded her with a beady, blood-colored eye and croaked a short laugh. The sound was grating, gravelly...and it sent a shiver of fear tingling up her spine. The sound was familiar, somehow, but she could not place it. She began to cast a spell to get rid of the unnatural bird, but to her horror and dismay, found that she could remember nothing of her Art! Not one arcane syllable, gesture or rune. The fear returned and the raven spoke. "Broken beams!" it cawed loudly.

 

The elven woman unconsciously stepped back a few feet and felt her heartbeat quicken as the black bird took to the air. It circled overhead, croaking, "Broken beams! Mended men! Let the silver knight enter the tower then! He comes! The Dark One comes to the Tower! All hail the Crimson King!" The raven flew off, spouting the nonsensical lines over and over again into the distance, leaving Arienne with an ominous, foreboding feeling.

 

The dream shifted, and suddenly the silver-haired mage was in a field of blood red roses, looking up, up to a massive cylindrical tower a mile or so away, the likes of which she had never seen before. She blinked and the tower seemed to breathe! It was black stone, dark, and absorbed all light, so that it seemed to be a living void; it hurt her eyes to look upon it too long. She knew without knowing that this was the tower the raven had warned of. A cool breeze blew her mithril locks around her shoulders and her keen elven eyes caught sight of a man at the base of the tower, as if he would enter it. The figure seemed familiar to her and she squinted to bring him into focus. Her heart suddenly wrenched in recognition and she saw every tiny thing about him in detail. The silvery eyes, the short, spiky silver hair, the muscular build of a fighter, the half smile that had drawn her like a moth to a flame.....Zirk!

 

Her heart whispered his name and she knew that he was in perilous danger. He must not enter that place! She tried to run, to call to him and warn him, but it was as if the tower sensed her intent, and she was suddenly hurtling back to her body and woke up screaming his name, "ZIRK!" She bolted awake, terrified and confused. Spyke was growling lowly, all his hackles raised in a ruff of black feathers standing in a rigid line all down his neck and back. Arienne gasped and tried to still her heart, feeling the beads of cold sweat sliding down her skin, under her clothes. Spyke whined at her, not understanding where she had been, or what had caused her such distress, but it made him growl again in unease. She got to her feet and tried to soothe him, patting his muzzle and smoothing his feathers. She found to her relief that her magic was still with her. Breathing a sigh, she decided that the dream had too much of an omen-feel to it to ignore. She must seek out Siannodell immediately, and make certain that Zirk was in no danger. She went into the tower and gathered a few things, then teleported instantly to the temple, though the night has already gotten quite late. Arienne decided she would apologize later, if need be...this simply could not wait.

 

(Interim passage "In Gentle Hands" at the Temple)