Free Legacy of Kings by C. S. Friedman

never enough. The ground soaks up the precious stuff within seconds, entrapping it too deeply for the saplings’ shallow root system to access. And there are so many of them! Even if the water were able to do them any good, he hasn’t got enough to supply them all. Some of them are clearly going to have to die so that the rest might live.
    A shadow passes overhead. Wiping the sweat from his brow with a dirt-stained sleeve, he looks up at the sky. The southern sun is a cruel thing, and its heat drains the strength from a man’s body in a manner that he will never get used to. It takes him a moment to focus his eyes against the blazing light and to see what is up there, silhouetted against the sun.
    Wings.
    Jeweled panels of living glass filter the sunlight, sending shadows of blue and green and violet shimmering across the parched earth. When they pass over the saplings, the slender plants seem to tremble in response. Then, one by one, the plants wilt and fade, shrinking down into the ground until there is nothing of them but desiccated skeletons, crumbling in the hot wind.
    The sweat of utter frustration films Colivar’s skin as he watches. His exhaustion is physical, but also spiritual. For he was the one who planted these saplings, so long ago, and each one that dies now takes a part of him with it.
    You knew back then that they would probably die, he tells himself . You promised yourself you would not come to care about them. Remember?
    One of the violet shadows is headed his way. He throws himself down over the nearest sapling, shielding it with his body. But when the shadow has passed and he rises again, he sees that he has crushed it beneath his own body. Killed it.
    What a fool he was, to think that a creature such as he could nurture life!
    A Souleater has landed on the ground before him. Its long neck undulates like a serpent as its head seeks out the remaining saplings, and it begins to yank them from the earth. It is one indignity too many for Colivar. Rage lends new strength to his aching limbs as he braces himself to confront the creature, to drive it away or die trying.
    And then its form shifts. Colors shimmer in the sunlight, blue-black hide and jeweled wings rippling as they transform into . . . something else.
    A woman.
    Siderea.
    “Forget this place,” his ex-lover whispers. “Forget all that you have become since you cheated death so long ago. Let go of your human half,, and I will make a place for you by my side. You know that is what you really want. It’s the same thing you’ve always wanted. I can give it to you now.”
    The human part of his brain recognizes the trap for what it is, but the other half, the forgotten half, does not care. His blood is stirred by the sound of her words, the scent of her flesh. Suddenly the saplings do not matter to him anymore. Memories are taking over now, of a life he has struggled for centuries to forget. The agonizingly beautiful downstroke of jeweled wings. The cold, fierce wind cutting into his skin. The anguish of his rivals as they spiral down into blackness, to be shattered on the rocks far below.
    No! His human self cries out a warning, but he no longer speaks its language.
    Stumbling, he begins to move toward her.
    And her body shimmers again.
    And changes.
    It takes him a minute to recognize what form she is taking now. When he does, the shock of it stops him dead in his tracks.
    The red-headed witch smiles at him. “Hello, Colivar.” Hearing her voice, the Souleaters overhead wheel about and begin to head toward her. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

     
    Colivar awakened with a start.
    For a moment he just lay there in bed, his heart pounding. Then, with a quick gesture of conjuration, he lit the lamps on the far side of the room. Amber warmth filled the space, soft and reassuring. He drew in a deep breath and bound enough athra to quiet his pounding heart. But mere sorcery could not quiet his spirit.
    It was a dream , he told