Aleta's condition began to level off in the very early morning,
not long after Kyven awoke.  She could continue for days at that rate of
decline, Mila estimated, though she was most certainly headed for eventual
death.  Though she was holding Kyven back for his own good, she still 
hoped desperately that the dedicated Healer would find something in those 
books that could save Aleta.  

	Pushing away the yearning for sleep she knew she would not get
tonight, Mila checked in one more time on the Alpha Wingleader, and then
the DragonLady in the next room.  There were guards stationed everywhere
in the contagious diseases section.  Though the body of the supposed
assassin had been found, there was too much mystery to relax when there
was so much at risk.  She found herself forced to answer stupid questions
every time she entered a room.  At last, in frustration, she ordered Aleta
and Christalla moved to the same room. 

	The silent apparition, held in the form of M'ressan, sat in
Aleta's room, watching as his mate was brought to the bed beside his
sister.  He looked over a crumpled, blood-streaked piece of paper for the
dozenth time since Mila had noticed him. 

	"M'ressan," she said quietly.  He looked up, expressionless,
turning lifeless green eyes on her.  Mila fought down a surge of terror...
there was something so frightening about him.  "M'ressan, there's nothing
you can do here.  Why don't you go back to your apartment, change clothes,
collect yourself, and come back.  We'll take good care of them, really." 

	Those green eyes simply started, seeming to look straight through
Mila.  Then he dropped his gaze back to the blood-streaked piece of paper. 
Mila wondered what was written on it, but something told her not to try to
take it away from him. 

	"The DragonLady is progressing marvelously," Mila tried again. 
"I'm sure she'll be awake in a few hours.  I'm sure you wouldn't want
Christalla her to see you like this." 

	He looked up abruptly at the sound of the name, focused on Mila 
for moment, then turned to the bed where his mate lay.  His eyes finally 
seemed to express an emotion... fear?

	He said nothing more, just watched Christalla's sleeping form.  At
last Mila turned away, giving up.  She had been trained to heal the body,
not the mind.  There was nothing she could offer him.  

	Walking out of the room, she turned back once more to look at him.
He was like a statue, illuminated by the flicker of oil lamps, reading the
scrap of paper once more.  Shivering, she hurried away. 

**********

	M'tan took Benna with him when he left the Medical Center, noting 
with frustration that M'ressan seemed set to stay the night.  The Beta 
Wingleader had been checking in on his mate regularly, but he was 
spending most of his time in Aleta's room.  Aleta was never really alone, 
and M'tan did not feel comfortable expressing his feelings with someone 
else there.  Fortunately or unfortunately, he had the perfect excuse to 
stay away.

	He met his mother and D'neor at his mother's home/textile shop/ 
weapon museum.  Aylin was beside herself with tears, and kept clinging to 
M'tan and asking him if it were really true.  D'neor simply looked on, 
unable to express his feelings.  M'tan wondered where K'wen was; it would 
have meant so much for D'neor's lover to be here in this time of need.

	Aylin at last cried herself to sleep, and M'tan left sleeping 
Benna with her.  He stayed up late talking with D'neor, sharing memories.  
D'neor was only 3 years younger than Al'dairan, and the memories they had 
to share were so surprisingly different.  Neither of them had really 
understood their brother, and it was shockingly apparent now that he was 
gone.  

	At last, with just to two of them together, D'neor finally began
to surrender to his emotions.  M'tan held held his younger brother deep
into the night while he cried.  M'tan had shed enough tears, he
discovered.  He neither felt the need to cry again nor the absence of the
tears.

	<Perhaps that is the first step,> Zareth suggested, his thoughts 
reaching M'tan from the mountains where Dragons often go to grieve.  
<There is no longer keening for Rendel.  My species will recover soon, I 
think.>

	<It takes a little longer for us Humans,> M'tan replied sadly.

	<The Queen Fiera's mating flight helped a lot, I think.  Even for 
me, thought I didn't participate,> Zareth commented.  <Though there's 
been a bit of an outcry over the winner, at least in reaction to the 
Humans.  I can't imagine why.  Paranth was a worthy Dragon.>

	<Paranth won?  You didn't tell me that.>

	<You weren't really in the mood to hear, my Human.>

	Sigh.  <There was that.  Fiera was Michel's sister's Dragon.  I 
imagine Michel and his sister did have a rough time of it.  I hope 
they're all right.>  He could remember vaguely Michel's face from his 
time with Alimiron that afternoon.  They were both landborn.  It would be 
difficult for them.

	<I don't know.  Paranth isn't talking to me about it much.  I 
guess he's got enough to worry about with his Human.  ...Go to sleep, 
M'tan.>

	<I'm not...  Well, yes, I guess I am tired.>  M'tan looked down 
to find that D'neor had fallen alseep against him.  Letting D'neor down 
gently, he fetched blankets for both of them settled down to sleep on the 
floor.  There was a lot to do tomorrow, and he didn't want to think about 
it.  

	Del and Al'dairan's lover Suayla arrived from Marrid Warren on 
Del's Dragon Olesya.  Suayla and Aylin found soulmates in each other, and 
dissolved into incoherent tears for hours on end.  Del's eyes were 
red-streaked, but fiercely under control.  M'tan found that both of the 
younger siblings-- D'neor and Del-- were looking to him to take control.  
He supposed he shouldn't be that surprised.  He sat them both down and 
began plans for Al'dairan's funeral.

**********

	Christalla turned and moaned.  Her dark-haired companion looked 
up in alarm.  He stared down at the paper in his hand again, as if it 
could reach out and attack him.  The DragonLady moaned again.  He looked 
at her, back at the red-haired figure in the next bed, and back to 
Christalla.  

	Then he turned and fled.

**********

	Christalla's eyes flickered open to meet the compassionate gaze 
of Keldarra Medical's second in command.  "Mila...?" she asked weakly.

	<Christalla!> Kaeryth's voice singsonged in her head.  <I'm so 
glad you're awake.  I worried about you.>

	<What happened?> Christalla demanded.  <How did I get here?>  She 
had vague memories of pain and blood... a knife?

	<I don't really understand any of it,> Kaeryth admitted.  <But 
I'm glad you're OK.>

	"Don't push yourself, DragonLady," Mila soothed.  "You took a 
nasty shoulder-wound and lost a lot of blood, but it looks like you're 
going to be OK."

	"The baby!" Christalla gasped, her hand flying to her swollen 
belly. 

	"We were worried, but we did the best we could and it appears to 
have been enough.  The child appears to be fine."

	<Really Christalla, I can feel it,> Kaeryth agreed.  <The Human 
hatchling's thoughts are almost coherent.  I think it will come soon.>

	Christalla absorbed all this as best she could.  There was so much
she wanted to know.  At last, she asked, "Where's M'ressan?" 

	Surprised, Mila looked around.  "He's not here, is he?" she 
said.  "That's odd.  He's been here all night, and into the morning.  
Maybe he finally took my advice and went home to rest and bathe.  Poor 
man was a sight.  He loves you very much."

	Christalla nodded.  "I need to know what's been going on," she 
said.  "Is... Evelle all right?"

	"She's fine," Mila assured her.

	"Good, then call her in.  I'd like a full report."  <I don't know 
what happened, or how long I've been out, or what's happened since I was 
gone,> she thought to herself.  But she felt more secure hearing it from 
Evelle.

	"I'll have her sent for," Mila assured her.  "Here, let me help 
you sit up.  I don't want you to overextend yourself, now.  I'm going to 
keep an eye on you."

	"I'll do my best," Christalla agreed meekly, humbled by the 
amount of strength it was taking her to sit up.  "Just try to get her 
here as soon as you can."

**********

	Mila sent word for Evelle to come to the Medical Center.  She 
wasn't a dragonrider, but a few of the guards stationed around the 
Contagious Diseases section were.  It was simply a matter of getting one 
of them to send word through their Dragon to Evelle's.  Satisfied, Mila 
continued on her rounds.

	She found Almiron and Michel up and talking in their room.  She 
was surprised to see Michel.  "Why are you here?" she asked.

	Michel looked at her strangely.  "I'm here because I'm supposed 
to be.  I took the arrow meant for Almiron, remember?"

	"Hmmm..." Mila thought aloud.  "I was sure I'd given you a clean
bill of health.  But I could be wrong.  Let me take a look."

	Mila gave Michel a thourough examination and found him healthy 
enough to leave.  He was still suffering from some weakness, and she 
cautioned him not to overexert himself, and to come back tomorrow for a 
check-up.  Michel absorbed all of this, but it was clear he was thinking 
about other ideas entirely.

	Mila gave Almiron a quick look-over and headed off to finish her 
rounds.  Almiron seemed like he wanted to tell her something, but then 
decided against it.

[NRPG: Chris C., you've been given your release, but I didn't write you 
out of the Med Center in case you wanted to do anything more with Almiron 
*G*.]

**********

	There was a loud *splash* in the Medical Center lake.  Mila heard 
the commotion and hurried out to see what it was.  Several orderlies, a 
couple of guards, and one or two patients were crowded around the lake, 
trying to fish something of the water.

	"What on earth is going on?" she demanded.

	"I swear I saw it!" someone called.  "Something big and purple 
flew over the lake!"

	"A Dragon??"

	"No!  It was too... fuzzy!  It dropped something in the lake, and
it looked like a person!" 

	This was entirely too much.  Mila began trying to push her way 
through the people to get a look for herself.

	"I found her!"  There was a great commotion, and a large orderly 
appeared, holding a bedraggled, soaked young female in his arms.  He 
looked triumphant; she looked barely sensible.

	"Take her inside," Mila ordered. "Let's get her dried off and 
find out who she is.  Poor dear."  She lead the way into the Medical 
Center, and the cowed young orderly followed.

	The young soon found herself in a stone room, wrapped in blankets,
and a had been handed something delicious and hot to drink.  The demon was
gone.  Thank goodness!!  Looking around a bit, she suddenly realized that
there was serveral Humans here, and all of them were looking at her
strangely. 

	"Um, excuse me..." she began and trailed off, feeling 
uncomfortable under their gaze.  "Um, where am I?"

	"You're in the Keldarra Warren Medical Center, dear," an older 
woman with a careworn face explained.  "I'm Mila, second in command 
here.  Kyven, our Head Healer, is recovering from some recent injury."

	The girl nodded blankly.  None of this meant anything to her.

	"If you don't mind me asking, dear," Mila continued 
uncomfortably, "What are you, exactly?"

	The girl met Mila's gaze, her almond-shaped eyes blinking in 
surprise.  Did she mean to say she'd never *seen* a Half-Elf?

[NRPG: June, feel free to continue the coversation with Mila.  She's 
50-ish, well-trained as a Healer, but has nearly *no* creativity or 
imagination.  Eventually, you'll probably be brought to Christalla and 
Evelle, the Warren leadership.]

**********

	Moressan de Valere found himself wandering in the woods southwest 
of Keldarra Warren.  He had a good reason for being here, he was sure, 
but he'd forgotten what it was.

	<You left Keldarra Medical when Christalla began waking up,> a
voice said in his head, and it wasn't his.  <I don't understand why.  Are
you talking to me now, please?>

	Confused, Moressan pushed the voice away.  It was strangely
familiar, that voice, but its presence disturbed him.  He looked down at
his hand, still flaked with dried blood.  He held a letter.  A letter from
Feldrik.  A letter instructing that people he cared about be killed.  He
remembered his purpose now. 

	<M'ressan?  M'ressan, please talk to me.>

	Moressan wandered out of the woods toward the Warren.  Things 
seemed strange, but he followed his instincts to his destination.  A 
well-fit, middle-aged man was sitting outside, polishing a sword.

	"M'ressan my dear boy," Master Kershod said warmly when he saw 
Moressan.  "What can I do for you?"

	There was that name again.  For some reason, Moressan de Valere
didn't want to think about it.  "I was wondering if I could... borrow a 
sword from you, sir," he said respectfully.

	"A sword?" Kershod asked, surprised.  "Since when did you learn 
to heft a sword?"  Then, he sighed.  "I know these are dangerous times, 
M'ressan.  For a favor from me, you have to but ask.  But promise me 
you'll be careful."

	Moressan nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on the swordmaster.  

	Kershod shudered a bit to himself.  Something about that man just
wasn't right.  But then, he'd heard rumors about everything that M'ressan
had been through lately.  Perhaps it wasn't so much of a surprise.  He
disappeared into his shop and appeared with a simple, well-crafted 
sword.  "Finished this one a few days ago," he explained warmly.  "Aylin 
promised she'd do someting fancy with it, but with... everything... she 
just hasn't had the time.  Nothing pretty, but it's light and easy to 
hold."  He handed it to M'ressan.

	Moressan took it and looked it over.  Then he eased himself into 
a battle-stance, swinging and feinting, getting a feel for the blade.  
His muscles strained strangely.  It was as if he hadn't held a sword for 
a long, long time.  He wondered why he felt that way.

	 "Gods above," Kershod gasped.  "Who taught you to do that?"

	"My father taught my brother and myself how to fight with honor 
from the moment we could stand on two feet," Moressan replied.

	Father?  Brother?  M'ressan had been an orphan before coming to 
Keldarra.  His sister Aleta was the only relative Kershod had heard of.  
"Uh, right," he stammered.  "I'm sure you'll want someting to put that 
in."  He turned back into his shop.

	When he looked back, M'ressan and the sword were gone.

**********

	Moressan de Valere headed out Southeast, following his heart and
his memory.  Revenge, and home, were that way.  He held the sword tightly
in his right hand. 

	There was the *whoosh*, and he was nearly blown over by sudden 
wind.  When he looked up, his way was barred by an enormous red Dragon.

	"Out of my way," he said aloud.

	<I'm not leaving until you talk to me,> a voice said in my head.  
<I don't know what I did, M'ressan, but you have to forgive me.>

	"I am Moressan!" the man cried.  "Moressan, son of Mortan, of the
House Valere!  We are lords of Misty Valley!"  He lifted his sword and 
brandished it, as if he could force the Dragon away.

	The Dragon blinked a large grey eye.  <You are also M'ressan, 
Beta Wingleader of Keldarra,> the voice said smoothly.  <I am your Dragon 
Alanth.  Deep inside, you have to know this.>

	Alanth... yes, that name was familiar.  "I have to find Lord 
Feldrik," he said.  "I have to have my revenge, and protect the ones I 
love.  Please don't try to stop me."

	<You're going the wrong way,> Alanth pointed out.  

	"The wrong way?  How?  I know that Misty Valley is--"

	<Feldrik is at Ralengarde,> Alanth explained.  <If you must go, I 
will take you.>  He lowered his foreleg and leaned toward Moressan.  
Moressan looked at him, at the sword, and then carefully climbed the 
foreleg and settled on Alanth's shoulder. 

	He held the sword aloft as the great red Dragon spread his wings, 
launched himself into the air, and disappeared.


Respectfully Submitted,

Susan Rati
Administrator, DragonLands

NRPG: Well, our M'ressan has finally gone crackers.  He is NOT headed for 
Wynn and Malekith.  The Dragons may feel Alanth's presence, though.

Lyn: Since all of my characters are fairly out of commission, I borrowed 
Mila.  Hope you don't mind :).

Judi: Well, the DragonLady is awake.  I'm sure Evelle has lots to tell 
her. 

June: I didn't get you interacting with a PC, I know.  Mila is a creation 
of Lynette Cowper's.  However, if you explain things to Mila, all of us 
will read your story :).  Welcome!

Chris C: So is Michel going to charge out into the fray?

Chris A: I didn't touch Wynn facing off against the rogue dragonrider, 
b/c I heard you had something in the works about it.


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