soothed him. Where others saw only arid emptiness, he saw freedom. The vast golden sands and endless sky reassured him that there were answers to be found if only he searched, the way one had to search for water in the Desert. There were no limits here, not to the land or to his dreams. A man could find liberty here to think, to feel, to live.
The Desert threatened him now. The Long Sand was too great, the skies too huge, all of it looming around him, over him, alternating cries to preserve their freedom with shrieks that he was alone, alone, with no hope of answers. The dreams were gone like water into the sand. He could find no strength here and he had no right to seek strength in Sioned.
Rohan turned the horse to the hills, eyes scouring them for cool shelter. He heard the soft shussh of hooves behind him, the muted jingle of the bridle as the horse tossed its head. He could not look around, could not look at his wife. He squinted up at the sky instead, where a dark shape had taken wing.
Dragon.
He caught his breath, heard Sioned’s small murmur of surprise behind him. One dragon, wings beating against the blue, flying toward the near dunes. Sweet Goddess, Rohan thought, how could anything be so beautiful?
But when another dragon soared into view and screamed out a challenge to the first, he realized what was about to happen. “Sioned! Hurry!”
He kicked the mare forward, heading for a shallow cave made by an overhang of streaked brownish rock. Once inside, they stayed on their horses, trying to calm the terrified animals as dragon shrieks split the air. Sioned huddled low on her horse’s neck, reins drawn so tight that the gelding’s chin was against its chest. Rohan struggled to control his own horse, turning it around and around in the narrow space with the reins gripped nearly at the bridle bit.
Sioned cried out as her gelding reared and she hit her head against the low ceiling. Rohan made a wild grab and missed, nearly toppling from his own horse. Sioned fell, one booted foot twisting as it caught in the stirrup, then slid to the ground and lay still. The gelding, free now of any restraints, galloped headlong from the shelter.
Rohan leaped down, reins wound around his hand as his own horse plunged, wanting to follow the frantic flight of the gelding. “Sioned—” He bent down, touched her face with his free hand, battling the mare all the while. “Sioned!” Screams of dragons and horse echoed off the rock and the mare nearly broke his wrist in her desperation to be free. He groaned in pain and let her bolt.
Sioned’s eyes opened as his arms went around her, glassy with pain. “Hush,” he told her. “You’ve got a bump on the head and a wrenched ankle. Don’t move.”
She took his hand, inspecting the leather burns, then glanced out at the sand. Very softly, she said, “It doesn’t matter.”
The words enraged him for reasons he did not comprehend. He sprang to his feet, glaring at her. “It doesn’t matter!” he shouted, shaking with fury. “Nothing matters, does it? Not a damned thing! Look at us!” he roared, lost to all control for the first time in his life. “Do we matter?”
She gazed up at him with a terrible calm, and said nothing. He swung around, braced his trembling body against the rocks, and stared out at the Desert where the dragons stood, wings spread, bellowing with a fury to match his own. They lunged for each other and the battle began.
Rohan stood transfixed. It was his hellish dream again, only this time the dragons were outside. The scenes stitched into the tapestries came alive. One dragon greenish-bronze, the other brown with patches of iridescent black on his head and flanks, both with jaws wide and dripping blood. The undersides of their spread wings shimmered in the heat. They came at each other again and again, drawing more blood, the stink of it and their maleness thick on the sand-heavy air. They reared up, slashed at each other, aroused and obscene and primal—and beautiful. The violence of their screams and thrusts quivered through him, spread down his arms and thighs, heated his blood. He made a guttural sound low in his throat and dug his fingers into the rocks, eyes slitted.
The touch on his arm went through him like a swordstroke. He stared into her green eyes,