He studied the sky. He knew little of the sky on any world, really, as it wasn’t an area of interest, and the idea that he might recognize a constellation or other astral sign and discern their location wasn’t more than an idle thought.

He moved and hummed absently, to keep awake while his brother slept. He wondered at the strange course of events that had brought him here, and in a strange way made him closer to Laromendis than they had ever been.

As children they shared certain interests in things magical, and as initiates into the Circle of Light, they shared the early training. But when the Regent’s Meet had disbanded the Circle and, according to rumors, conspired to murder some of their more powerful members, the brothers had gone their separate ways for years.

Later they discovered that on several occasions they had almost run into each other, one time living on opposite sides of the same island for the better part of a year, though Gulamendis had been high in the hills in a cave, as his brother wryly pointed out, while Laromendis had been down in the island’s sole town working as a laborer while the purging of the Circle had continued.

Only the Demon Legion’s onslaught had put off the further persecution of the remaining members of the Circle. Gulamendis was certain others still hid, but most had answered the call of their people, and had been welcomed back to Andcardia when the Regent’s Meet granted amnesty.

Except for the Demon Masters. It was fate that spared Gulamendis, for only days before his arrival at the Regent’s court his brother had “volunteered” for the mission to seek out a refuge for the Taredhel should the demons overrun their capital.

Gulamendis had spent some time in a cage but had been allowed to live; most Demon Masters hadn’t been so fortunate.

The sky lightened and blacks resolved into greys and lighter greys. The Demon Master waited until he could see enough of the trees above them to chance moving, and woke his brother.

Laromendis came awake instantly, but it was clear he was still exhausted. He glanced around and nodded. Without comment the two elves moved into the woods.

The trees were scrawny and parched, and both brothers knew that fresh water might be a problem. The brush was dry and cracked when stepped on, so both moved slowly and with care.

Finally they reached a small clearing, an extrusion of stone that formed a ridge, and on the other side the land began to once again fall away. They peered over the stone and Gulamendis whispered, “Merciful ancestors!”

As far as the eye could see ranged fires, organized in rank and file, so a crisscross of lines of flame defined areas. Around the fires rested figures, and the Demon Master tugged at his brother’s sleeve.