[Day 14 Late Evening in the city of Belstraad]

  The guard found the young rider in a courtyard just off of the armory, tending the riding
harness and gear on the blue-green dragon that was his companion. The dragon gave him a wary look,
making him self-consciously adjust his purple and blue tabard, the livery of a guard in Lord
Blaine's service. The rider was working on a buckle of the chest-strap, and the guard cleared his
throat to get the young man's attention.
  
  "I know you're there, Kirath told me. I have to just get this- there, that's got it. What can I
do for you, armsman?"
  
  "Your pardon, milord. Captain Fareham wishes to see you, soonest." 
  
  "Finally decided to make another try of it. I trust he has some plan to increase my chances?"
  
  The guard blanched- he had apparently seen what had become of M'dhavan's fellows when they had
tried to fly out of the siege of Belstraad. The joined pair who had died had been lucky - Lysra
and Rhavth were both torn to shreds, poisoned by the tails of the creatures and slammed into the
flying buttress of the main keep as they crashed to the ground. M'dhavan doubted they could live
more than a day or so, and if Lysra should live, she might never walk again. M'dhavan had more
than seen these things happen- he was blocking out the semi-conscious anguish Rhavth was
broadcasting through a great effort of will. It was that effort which made him seem impassive
about the guard's request.
  
  "Lead on then," said M'dhavan. The guard seemed more nervous now than before, but to attempt to
put him at his ease would be to loosen his control.
  
  They found Fareham leaning on the battlements, gripping the stone under his gauntleted hands. He
was looking out past the curtain, past the outer ward and out over the city, his stance tense, and
more, that of a man mourning those under his care made victims to this mad attack.
  
  "You wished to see me Captain?" M'dhavan's control was shaken by the sight, but he recovered it
quickly, before the terror and pain could overcome him. He doubted Fareham had noticed. 
  
  "Yes, we need to get word of our desperate need to the warren, you are our last hope of sending
for reinforcements." Fareham's words were stiff with a suppressed plea, and he studied M'dhavan's
face, seeking signs of distress at the order, certainly a suicide mission. He concluded the rider
was either in shock at the mayhem inflicted on his fellows, or resigned to his fate.
  
  "As you wish, Sir," said M'dhavan. It had simply been a matter of time before he was called on
to serve in this conflict. Fareham, perhaps, needed a bit more to convince himself, for he
continued as if he had not heard M'dhavan speak.
  
  "I am not sending you to your death. I am not like some lords in this plateau who disregard
human life. I have a plan that should cause enough confusion in our enemies to allow you to gain
enough altitude to teleport to safety," said Fareham.
  
  Kirath's elation rang silently in his mind, an unspoken sentiment of excitement, charged with
the potential for vengeance and activity. M'dhavan broadcast to his dragon, Lysra and Rhavth,
<We'll come back with wings enough to sear these monsters to ash, and send the Warren's healers.
Stay with us!>
  
  M'dhavan did not remember his return to the courtyard; as far as his awareness went, he leapt
from the battlement into the saddle of his mind-companion, and rising into the air.
  
  They were surrounded from the moment they came up out of the Inner Ward of the keep, like
swimming among a school of fish in Ahrial Lake.
  
  <...only these fish will kill us,> he thought.
  
  Before Kirath could reply, the night exploded about them in hues of blue, green, and red fire. 
  
  "Mothers of the gods! He'll kill us himself, " M'dhavan now fought panic and terror from inside
himself, overpowering the distant emotion of Rhavth below.
  
  <It is working, and I can dodge the streams of fire from below. These creatures cannot move so
well, for all that they are much smaller.>
  
  Kirath's thoughts were true. Though the rockets were not well aimed at the flying creatures, the
foe was thick enough that many were burned by the white-hot metal flakes and blinded by the sudden
light. Kirath found himself dodging both the scaly black nightmares and the artillery from below,
and though it was obviously difficult for him to do so, he proved up to the task, at least for the
time being.
  
  <Left and up, I think there is enough space to 'port,> M'dhavan sent.
  
  The aquamarine dragon labored to climb to the place his rider had seen, and indeed it seemed
clear of both the foe and the exploding charges shot from the keep. Unfortunately, one of the
beasts, a bit more savvy than his fellows, perhaps, also noticed the gap in the firework barrage.
Kirath saw the beast and blasted out with his own flame, charring the creature's wingtip.
  They were there. M'dhavan visualized the Warren below them just as the creature crashed,
burning, into Kirath's flank, it's ichor-dripping tail flailing into M'dhavan's shoulder. They
screamed as one, the three locked together in pain as the fireworks dimmed and was replaced by the
Warren Plateau.
  
  Wings were already forming by the time they managed to land, a controlled dive into the shallows
of Ahrial; the watch-rider had sounded the alarm at their appearance, and not until they were down
was the Warren Queen's call for details issued. Kirath, through his pain, told Queri of the plight
of Belstraad. M'dhavan, who now could neither feel his arm nor  make out the voices and sounds in
his mind, lost his grip on his mount and fell headlong into the waters, and darkness.

[tag, all]
***************
NRPG - I have never had a month so filled with things to do as this last one. My sincere apologies
for the delay of this post; hope the next will be both longer and much more timely.

-Sean O'Leary



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