When Paths Align

Chapter One

The coasts of Sienan were warm and shallow; their beaches strangely vibrant with color from the various foliage beneath the sea waters. The sands themselves were dyed from the waves, the darkest shades where the waves constantly touched before steadily lightening the farther the sands rose to the beach line and forests beyond. The winds blew south – helping to push the galleons as they traveled under the royal crest of Syvil and bore shields painted with an Ithael breathing white fire. Loud courses of various chanties could be heard drifting on the sea breezes as the men worked at the oars, steadily rowing themselves eagerly towards land.

Standing at the bow of the lead ship, a white haired woman gazed upon the three Ithael hatchlings as they glided across the gentle ocean breeze. They were hunting upon the small fish swimming below the water's surface; diving occasionally and resurfacing seconds later to gobble down their catch. The largest was mostly steel gray with soft pale blue undertones and underwing. His eyes were like blue-ice – almost colorless and glossy. The second largest was black with faint shades of green throughout his scales and facial features. The undersides of his wings were also green as were his eyes. The third was the smallest and by the woman's guess – female if the lack of facial spikes and size had anything to do with it. She was cream and gold, her scales glistening as she flew across the waters. Barely half a sweep, they were hardly larger than house cats with wings and could hardly spew the fire of legends that her teachers had always lectured about. From atop the sparrow's nest, a young boy by the name of Cyric was excitedly watching them fly; his windswept hair fluttering into his wide hazel eyes. He was a lad of barely 16, cheeks pink from salty winds and skin tanned from the sun's warm kiss. He had no place upon the battleship and it was by the grace of the Commander below that he was allowed to remain.

The armada had finally reached it's destination – the coasts of Sienas and the nearby city of Eldmere. They had traveled from the far north, sailing for months with the intention of securing an alliance between Syvil and the city. Her ships nearly totaled twenty – each holding roughly one hundred and twenty men aboard them plus the various bonded animals. Her legion currently with her totaled twelve hundred men and women – a formidable force she would need in order to meet the requirements of securing the alliance. She hardly wanted to be here, hardly wanted to risk her life taking out a vampire nor the giants back home, but duty was hardly avoidable when so many lives were affected by her smallest actions. She took a deep breath and focused upon the flying Ithael.

Standing next to her was her twin brother, her rock and greatest strength. He was nearly her replica: white hair, ghost white eyes and pale skin. He too stood quietly and watched the hatchlings enjoy themselves. His gaze was not quite so full of wonder, perhaps a bit more cautious and thoughtful but he said nothing to his sister about his reservations. They had no need to speak of such things between them, Lucien knew that Aelynn would never willingly part from the beasts unless they themselves left – nothing that he or anyone else said was going to change that. He questioned how his sister of all people would or even could come across not one or two but three Ithael eggs? The grace of the goddess or the work of nefarious daeva? Lucien couldn't tell. But what was done was done and now they were faced with feeding them. For now, they had feasted upon the bounties of the ocean, flying whenever the pleased and roosting when tired. They had hardly grown in three months and yet their appetite was comparable to that of a full grown onari.

"We shall reach the bay soon sister, should we have the soldiers get ready for landing?" Lucien's voice was a light baritone, rich and full that was pleasant to the ears. He had always been a reliable voice of reason during trying times and was included in the planning processes. He was just slightly taller than herself and dressed in a light tunic and breaches that he had borrowed from a soldier ages ago. Aelynn too had forgone her heavy Syvillian dresses in favor of a tunic and breaches. She had covered her shirt with a light weight chain-mail that was tied tightly at the waist by a tooled leather belt from which several small daggers hung.