{JP with Dave Lankford and David Hoover}

[Day 7, Afternoon]

[Gransol and Arkt'han]

<So, are you going to meet Auram's rider for dinner?> Sylan asked.

Gransol sighed. <Yes, I'm just about done here...> He checked the list
again. "And the whole-grain flour is... here. It looks like we're good to
go tomorrow. I thank you," he said to the kitchen worker who was in charge
of stores.

He had spent the time since leaving J'adoube's in a state of quiet
agitation over what he had done, washing up at the facilities in the
Hatchling Barracks guiltily and then locating C'tain and taking the list
of food stuffs to needed at Wild Marrid without answering C'tain's query
about how lunch had been. Now he was finishing up securing what he could
from the list. There were things Xylian couldn't afford to give up, so
some items had been crossed out instead of checked off. All in all, he
thought Tannet would be pleased, though.

<Really?> Sylan asked. <I can tell him you're coming.> 

<Yes, really. Now leave me be for a minute.> 

He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for meeting Arkt'han. He
knew J'adoube didn't object, but he didn't know how the burly rider would
react to what had happened. He wasn't even sure how he wanted Arkt'han to
react.

<He will meet you in the Dining Hall, since you are nearby,> Sylan told
him.

<Thank you.> 

He walked down a short hallway, passed through the kitchen, bustling at
this hour with preparations for dinner, and into the hall, scanning the
area near the door for the brawny form of Arkt'han.

Arkt'han was already seated, but rose, smiling, when he sighted the knight
approaching, smiling. "Glad you could join me, my friend."

"Sorry it took so long," Gransol apologised. "Tannet's food list was
rather lengthy and C'tain hadn't gotten to it yet."

"I imagine so," Arkt'han agreed. "Go ahead and load up a tray and meet me
back here at the table. I'll be here."

At the words, "I'll be here," Gransol's heart skipped a beat. Had it meant
more than the surface meaning? "Okay. I'll be right back."

He headed to the line, still sparse yet as it was early for most people to
be having dinner, and filled up a tray, then got a tall, cool tankard of
ale as well. Wild Marrid had considerable ale, as the liquor supplies
hadn't been taken in the evacuation, but Trey was justifiably stingy with
it. They couldn't afford stupidity in their precarious state, and alcohol
was a prime creator of stupid mistakes.

Upon Gransol's return to the table, Arkt'han smiled slyly. "Worked up
quite an appetite, I see," he quipped with a knowing nod to the
heavy-laden tray.

Gransol felt his face burn at the quip and set down the tray in a hurry,
before he dropped it in his panic. "Umm... Yeah. About that... I... Well,
I... don't know exactly what came over me, but..."

Arkt'han laughed easily. "I suspect I know what came over you," he
chuckled. "Relax."

Gransol shook his head as he sank into his seat. "I'm not sure I
understand why you warrenfolk are so... unjealous. Or is it just the...
um... the men who like men?"

"It varies from person to person," the older rider assured him. "It would
be different if you and I were, well, mates, for lack of a better term.
Pledged to one another, and all that. But let's be frank... we've only
known each other a few days... though I daresay we've become quite well
acquainted, despite the short amount of time..." Arkt'han took a pull from
his mug, wiped foam from his moustache, and continued. "Looked at another
way... I've been with my share of men - and women - in my time... though
none of it recently, yourself excepted, ever since Auram and I went
wandering...

"...anyway, you're just exploring a whole new part of your life, of
yourself. It would seem... selfish of me, perhaps... to demand you explore
it only with me, ever."

"That's something one can offer to their mate as a gift, but can never be
*demanded* from one's mate as a concession."

Gransol considered Arkt'han's words. It still seemed a foreign concept to
him, to be able to make love to whomever you felt like, if they were
willing, without the legal bonds of the marriage vow. Was it better or
worse? He was uncertain of the answer, but his Landbound heritage called
to him strongly that such freedom would bring only chaos.

As if reading his mind, Arkt'han nodded. "It does tangle the relationships
somewhat. Sometimes they become a right royal mess, in fact, which is why
so many riders *do* settle down with a mate they like, eventually."

"Well, I... thank you for your understanding. I'm... still uncertain how I
feel about it. But J'adoube is certainly... vigourous."

"Youth will do that for a man. However, I trust my own prowess is not
*that* faded, is it...?"

Gransol chuckled. "No, indeed not. Jad is just..." he considered, "...
more wild. Willing to kiss and ask questions after."

Arkt'han's mood shifted subtly, and he seemed to stare past his dinner
companion into the distance. "Ah, yes. There's a streak of that in me, as
well, but it's been buried. My brother was a man willing to take without
asking, and I have endeavored not to become like him in that respect. So I
am... careful... about my lovers' feelings."

Gransol reached across the table and took the other man's hand. "I
appreciated that on the day of Sylan's mating flight and I still
appreciate it now. If it had been some other man, I might very well be
slitting my wrists now in despair."

Arkt'han's eyes flickered back to the here-and-now, and he squeezed
Gransol's hand. "And *that* would have been a tragedy indeed, my friend.
For I sense you are a man worth coming to know more fully, and I look
forward to someday knowing and loving the mind as fully and completely as
I already love the body that houses it."

Gransol blushed at the compliment. He opened his mouth to reply, but was
stopped by the distant sound of screaming, followed by Sylan's keening in
his mind.

Arkt'han grimaced as well, though the wave of mourning coming to him
through Auram was muted, more controlled. "Someone's been slain," Arkt'han
muttered through gritted teeth.

Gransol nodded, having gotten the same information from Sylan. "J'ken of
Marrid and his dragon, Nova." He had watched so many die lately and had
lived with such dangers for so long. He had hoped Xylian would be
different.

"Wraith attack, or monsters?" Arkt'han queried aloud, simultaneously
asking his mourning dragon.

Gransol shook his head. "From what I can get from Sylan... it sounds
like... murder..."

"Why here, why now?" Arkt'han wondered, rising to his feet. "We thought
this was going to be our safe haven..."

"I don't know... Should we go help?" he asked, noticing the numbers of
people leaving the Dining Hall.

"Aye, if we can." They followed the surge of warrenfolk exiting the hall.

******

[That night]

"I wish I had gotten a chance to see the catapult before dark," Arkt'han
grumbled, taking off his boots and massaging his feet.

Gransol nodded, removing his bloody shirt and tossing it into Arkt'han's
sink. He hadn't expected to get his clothes so filthy he couldn't wear
them two days if needed. Now they, and he, needed a good scrubbing. "It
sounds like Martyn did a decent job of investigating. But perhaps you can
go tomorrow morning?"

"Aye, perhaps so. The trail will be cold by then, but I may still be able
to learn something. I've tracked at night before, but it's difficult, and
I don't relish the idea of chasing assassins through the woods at night.
If he - or she - had time to build a catapult up there, they also had
plenty of time to build other nasty surprises, too..."

"True." Gransol had dealt with his share of wiley opponents in his life as
a knight. He knew, tactically, that chasing an assassin in the dark was
liable to be suicide, even if numbers were on your side.

Arkt'han plunged his head face-first into a washbasin and came back up
dripping wet, but cleaner. He soaked a sponge and began to clean the rest
of himself. 

Gingerly, aware of the grime he wore, the knight sat in a wooden chair and
began pulling off his boots, then surveyed the bloody stains on his
leather riding pants. "Got some leather cleaner, I hope?"

Arkt'han rummaged in one of his knapsacks and tossed a bottle to Gransol,
then resumed his own ablutions. 

Gransol stood to remove his pants. "Ow! Damn, my knee's killing me."

"Here, let me look at it..." Arkt'han massaged the muscles of the other
man's thigh and calf, examing the knee itself for signs of damage or
strain... "This looks like old news. I assume C'tain's already done what
can be done for it?"

Gransol nodded. "It just hurts when I do too much on it in a day. All I
really need is some pain medicine and a good, hot soak."

"I'm afraid I haven't managed to score a properly sized tub, yet. I'm
limited to sponge baths, for the time being."

Gransol nodded. "Wild Marrid has a hot spring I like to visit. I'll have
to take you there... the next time you come."

Arkt'han smiled broadly. "I'll put it on my list of things to do."

"Best get these things washed out, if they're going to be dry by morning,"
Gransol said, slipping his underclothing off and adding it to the
washbasin with his shirt. He ignored Arkt'han's appreciative stare for the
moment. He wanted to be clean first. 

Arkt'han finished his own cleaning and crawled beneath his blankets. "So,
I gather you took a rather more... active... role in things, with
J'adoube?"

Gransol paused in applying the cleaning solution to his pants. "Um... yes.
It just seemed... right somehow."

Arkt'han grinned. "These things tend to work themselves out. Sylan was
fairly intrigued by the sensation of mounting, or so she told Auram."

The memory of the pleasure and heat of the younger man's body as he had
thrust into him filled Gransol with desire and he watched his manhood
begin to respond to the thought. He scrubbed harder at the stains, hoping
to finish more quickly and join Arkt'han in bed. "I... suppose it would be
a rather interesting sensation for a female. Quite different from the...
more internal pleasures of being taken."

Arkt'han shrugged. "Both modes have a certain appeal..." With a devilish
grin, he asked, "which are you in the mood for?"

Gransol wiped the solution away and studied the leather. The brown was
somewhat darker on the knees than on the surrounding leather. Damn. He had
managed to keep his concentration through washing out his other clothing
and himself, but it was slipping now. He decided it was good enough and
laid the pants over a chair and quickly headed for Arkt'han's bed.
"Well..." he said as he slipped under the covers and into Arkt'han's
embrace, "we'd talked about... um... reversing our roles of the other
day..."

The other man nodded. "Yes, I recall..."

Gransol's hand explored the hair on Arkt'han's chest, so different from
the hairlessness of Jad's boyish body. "But... well... I just did that
today, with Jad... and... if you don't mind..."

Arkt'han's hands explored Gransol's chest as well. "Mind? Hardly. If
you're feeling spent, I'm more than happy to oblige as we did before." He
kissed him, then said, "It will be my pleasure. Well, our pleasure,
hopefully."

"I just want to know... if it's as pleasurable without the dragon heat as
it was with. Maybe, afterwards, I might try the other..."

Another smile. "As you wish, good sir knight."

******

[Later that night]

[C'tain]

He'd spent most of the day trying to coax some medical supplies out of the
overtaxed Xylian Medical Center. Things like birth control preparation and
wraith burn salve were in decent supply, but others, like bandages,
antibiotic, and pain medication were running dangerously low.

Wild Marrid had enough tools, clothes, blankets and so on to last
indefinitely. They had been left behind in the evacuation and a team of
unjoined had recovered them. Most of the food, left unattended, had been
invaded by various hungry critters.

The rest of their supply list was rather exotic-- explosives, weapons,
ink, paper, lantern oil... It had taken him the rest of the day to run
most of those things down, interrupted by the horror of the mutilated
dragon and rider on the Green.

He had found one of his healer assistants from Marrid to put him up for
the night. But the images of the day kept him awake.

Now he was just wandering, his clothes sticking to him from the dampness
of their recent washing. Something off to the side of him caught his eye--
a crumple of cloth on the ground near the coal bins. He walked closer, his
pace picking up when he made out the shape better. Then he saw the other
one.

There was no question that they were dead. One was nearly decapitated. He
wondered what they were doing out here and who had killed them. Did Xylian
put a guard on the coal bins, usually unguarded at the warrens he'd been
to, and why?

He stood and approached the coal bins cautiously. He cracked the door and
peeked in, seeing the fire inside.

He was just turning to raise the alarm when the explosion tore the doors
to the bin open and he was hurled forward. He impacted with the ground,
feeling his left arm and some ribs snap, and felt one of the doors land on
his back before he passed out.

******

[Gransol and Arkt'han]

The explosion startled both of them from their sleep and led to a mad
scramble to disengage from the sheets and one another in order to pull on
clothes and go investigate... 

"What the hell was that?" Arkt'han swore, donning trousers and buckling
his belt in haste. 

<Sylan?> Gransol asked, reaching for his shirt, then swearing when he
realised it was still wet. 

Arkt'han had already run out the door, barefoot and shirtless. <Auram?
Another attack on a dragon?> 

<No,> Auram replied, <No dragons were hurt this time, but I smell smoke. A
coal-fire, I think.> 

Gransol flung the shirt back over the temporary clothes line he and
Arkt'han had put up last night and dashed out to the dragon cave, where
Sylan was unwinding from Auram as his rider mounted. <There is a fire at
the coal bins,> Sylan informed him. 

"Sylan says it's the coal bins," Gransol called to his lover, as he
climbed to Sylan's shoulder. 

"Right. Let's check it out."

As they glided down, they could see dragons launching from apartments all
over the warren. Half the warren's joined were converging on the spot.
Already, someone was organising a bucket brigade. 

"Would dragons dropping water help?" Gransol asked. 

The man, whose name Gransol didn't know, shook his head. "They aren't open
to the sky enough to make that effective."

Arkt'han was already scanning the ground for signs of the saboteur's
footprints, barely staying out of the bucket brigade's efforts. 

Making and larger and larger sweeps out from the bins, he muttered. "It's
hopeless. There must be a dozen sets of tracks from *before* the bins were
burned, let alone everyone walking around now trying to put them out. 

Gransol turned away and considered what he could do. The bucket brigade
had more than enough people manning it at the moment, though they would
need people to take over if it went on long. He saw Arkt'han pacing the
area. "Can I help? What are we looking for?"

"I was hoping to track whoever started the fire, but there have been too
many people passing this way and that before and after. I don't think
we'll find any-" The words died on his lips as brushed aside limbs from a
small bush and found a foot sticking out from under it. Cursing softly, he
thrust his arms into the bush and wrestled it to one side. "Gransol, can
you see who it is?"

"Help me move this door..." Gransol said, grabbing hold of the heavy coal
bin door that lay across the body. 

Arkt'han held the plant with one arm as best he could and lifted a corner
of the door with the other, helping push it aside. 

Gransol knelt down and peered in the darkness. "Gods dammit all, it's
C'tain!" He reached forward and touched the healer's throat, then sighed
with relief as he felt the pulse going strong. "He's alive."

"Get a healer over here," Arkt'han bellowed over his shoulder toward the
bucket brigade. "Now!"

Gransol was startled to see the slender form of Lakoda headed their way.
"What's the prob..." Her question died as she saw the problem and quickly
knelt beside C'tain. "What happened?"

Gransol shrugged. "We found him under the coal bin door. Presumably, he
got hit by it in the explosion."

Lakoda nodded, continuing her examination. Gransol noted concern, but not
the sort of look he'd expect from a lover or former lover. So it was true
what he'd heard about her amnesia. 

"Okay, we need to get him to the Med Center in order for me to examine him
better. Gransol, go get the body board off of Ribbon. We need to move him
with as little disturbance as possible, in case there's injury to the
spine."

Arkt'han grunted and shifted his weight, struggling to keep the springy
undergrowth from snapping back into its usual position. 

Gransol dashed over to the purple dragon that Lakoda had nodded to and
removed the large man-length board from where it was secured and carried
it back. 

"Okay, set it down next to him. You get his feet and I'll get his head and
we'll lift and slide at the same time. Ready?.... One... two... *three*!"

Gransol matched the healer's motions and C'tain was soon on the board,
buckled down and moved away from the bush enough for Arkt'han to release
his stranglehold on the branches. 

The three of them then carried him to where Ribbon stood waiting. 

Mere moments after Ribbon launched skyward, there was a second explosion,
and Arkt'han and Gransol were knocked off their feet. 

Looking up, they were horrified to see bodies sheathed in flames,
presumably those who had been at the coal bin end of the bucket brigade
moments before. 

Gransol rolled to his feet, quickly snapping an order to Sylan, <Bring
water, now!> He ran, grabbing the person nearest him and throwing him to
the ground and making him roll. 

As the green dragon took off, Auram turned to face the inferno and
breathed a vast cloud of smoke. 

"What are you doing?" Arkt'han cried aloud, aghast. "We won't be able to
see, and those poor people are breathing enough smoke as it is..."

<I know what I'm doing, rider,> Auram thought sternly. <Leave me be.> With
that he exhaled an even thicker cloud of whitish smoke. Arkt'han coughed
and gagged on the unbreathable vapors. 

However, the smoke seemed to choke the fire, as well. The flames flickered
and died as the blanket of smog rolled over them. 

<Great, except we can't breathe either,> Arkt'han thought foggily. 

<I'll fix that too, in a moment. Oh, good, Sylan's returning with water.
Perfect.> 

With that, Auram beat his wings vigorously, helping to disperse the smoke.
The fire blazed back up as the fresh air hit the glowing coals, but at
least the people who had been aflame were no longer burning. 

Gransol was on the ground coughing uncontrollably. He had taken in a
lungful just as the smoke had blown in. As the smoke blew away, the fire
on the brush and grass near the coal bin sprang back to life. Now they had
a brush fire and a coal bin fire... He had started to reach unsteadily to
see if the man he'd been helping was still alive when water doused him
from above. 

Still coughing, Arkt'han stumbled forward and shook Gransol. "Are you
okay? Can you breathe?"

Gransol gagged and coughed out lake water he'd inhaled, then nodded. "We
need... we need to get these... to the Medical Center..."

Arkt'han nodded. "As many as we can fly there..." He hauled one of the
burned forms toward Auram, careful to be no rougher than necessary, while
Gransol similarly burdened Sylan. 

The two arranged the three burn victims on their two dragons. Two other
bodies lay burned by the coal bins, but they had not died by fire... 

******

[Day 8, early morning]

Unaccountably, after the night he'd had, Gransol woke early the next
morning, unease coiling in his stomach. Having nothing better to do, the
two had gotten dressed, Gransol borrowing clothes from Arkt'han, and gone
to survey the damage. 

"Sylan says that Ribbon says C'tain's okay. Well, not okay, but not in
dangerous condition. Three broken ribs, a broken arm, possibly a mild
concussion, minor burns, lots of scrapes and bruises," Gransol reported as
they walked. "Apparently, the explosion threw him far enough away that
between distance and the door, he didn't suffer many burns."

"Be thankful for small favors, I guess," Arkt'han murmured. "And the
others...?"

Gransol sighed. "Critical, but stable, condition. I guess that means
they're bad, but not getting any worse."

"Hmm. Say, I'm surprised we didn't see Jad helping with the disaster last
night... there's no way he could have slept through that explosion."

Gransol literally stopped in his tracks, and turned to the cliff face
where Jad's storage room/apartment door was located. "Dear gods, his
apartment's gone!"

The two of them scrambled to the pile of rubble that was once a doorway.
They hauled large stones out of the way, enough for Gransol to touch the
door itself. 

Gransol pounded on the door and called, "Jad? Are you there?"

"I'm here! Part of the ceiling caved in! I can't get to the door!"
J'adoube's voice filtered out. "Bring help!"

"All right. We'll get you out. Just don't panic." Gransol stepped back and
surveyed the rubble. A large boulder stood in the way of them actually
opening the door. 

"We might be able to lever it," Arkt'han said, assessing the boulder's
weight. 

"Do you think we could get a dragon in here?" Gransol asked, surveying the
area. 

"A smallish one, perhaps."

<Sylan,> Gransol called his dragon. She wasn't far away, surveying the
damage herself and quickly flew to where they were. <Do you think you
could move that boulder?> 

<I can try, my rider. The one-you-mated-with-who-looks-like-a-hatchling is
in there?> 

<His name is Jad. And, yes, he is, so be careful.> 

Jad munched on the plate of food anxiously as he waited, dancing.  He
really hoped theyd hurry...one drawback to this little place, besides the
low ceilings and lack of space, was that there were no bathroom
facilities.  

He backed away from the cave-in, fearing that some might come loose and
fall when the others tried to move it.  Not looking where he was putting
his feet, he almost lost his balance when he stepped on one of the legs of
the collapsed chair.  Looking down, he smiled, remembering again the
wonderful feeling of the Knights arms around him.

Jadoube was distracted from his reverie by a loud crunch and some scraping
sounds coming from beyond the pile.

Gransol directed as Sylan moved the boulder out of the way, then checked
the stability of the remaining rock before pulling open the door. The
sight that greeted him was not too encouraging-- more rubble. "Jad, how
far back would you guess you are?" he called. 

"Umm...several feet, I *think*...but the top of the pile seems pretty
close to the door.  I can see a bit of light,"  replied the younger man.
"Be careful!" 

Gransol considered the size of Jad's apartment. Much more and the man
would be buried. They couldn't risk Sylan digging.  "We need a digging
crew, I think." 

At his statement, Sylan began contacting the dragons she had met at
Xylian, finding out who to contact for such a thing. It wasn't long before
people with shovels, sledges, and wheeled carts for clearing away the
rubble began appearing. 

"Jad! We've got people who are going to start digging.  Just to be safe,
you might want to back as far away as possible. And maybe cover yourself
with a blanket to protect from any debris..." 

Jad climbed back into his bed and pulled the blanket back over him.  "OK.
I'm away and covered!" he called, just before pulling the quilt over his
head. 

A half-hour's digging later, a small tunnel large enough for Jad to crawl
out of had been gouged out of the fallen stones. 

Gransol helped the smaller man up and hugged him.  "You okay?" 

He broke away and waddle-dashed off toward the Hatchling Barracks.  A few
minutes later he reemerged, walking a good deal straighter.  Returning to
Gransol's embrace, Jad snuggled close.  "Remind me to bring in a bedpan." 

Arkt'han stifled a laugh behind a cough.  "It's good to see you unharmed,
Jad." 

Jad looked nervously at the pile of stones that had been moved.  "Yeah, I
guess I was really lucky.  A few feet farther back and I'd have been
flattened!" 

Gransol grinned over J'adoube's head.  "Let's get some breakfast.  I'm
starved." 

******

[That afternoon]

Since C'tain wouldn't be released from the Med Center until tomorrow, at
the earliest, Gransol hung around the warren that day, helping Jad recover
some of his things and generally trying to make himself useful. So, when 

Arkt'han announced that Martyn had concluded his investigation of the
assassin's catapault and that he was going to inspect it for anything the
sleuth might have missed, Gransol was quick to volunteer to go along. 

Several other warrenfolk had had the same idea, but while they milled
around the catapault and Gransol kept his hand on his sword and a close
watch for any assassin, Arkt'han was off following some tracks that the
knight couldn't even see. 

"I don't like this many people here like this," Gransol commented to the
younger man. "I wish the warrenlady had issued some orders concerning i--
Ooof!" His comment was cut off my a stumble and then by a muted scream of
pain as he felt the spikes at the bottom of the pit he had stepped in
plunge through his boot and into his foot. 

Jad had taken one more step before he was able to react.  Jumping back, he
helped ease his lover to the ground.  His face a mask of concern for the
other man, the young blond called into the crowd for a healer. 

Near a copse of trees, Arkt'han turned from following a promising set of
tracks to dash back to the crowd.  Behind him, a figure slipped away
deeper into the woods. 

Gransol held onto the younger man, his knuckles turning white from the
exertion of maintaining control over himself.  "Help me..." he almost
cried, "... pull... foot... off..." 

The younger man turned white as he looked down at Gransol's foot.  He had
stepped into a pit filled with sharpened sticks, and several had pierced
his heavy boot, going deep into his foot.  Blood was forming a puddle
around it.

At that moment the blond felt a firm hand on his shoulder.  Startled, Jad
jerked his head, imagining the saboteur... only to find Arkt'han.

Calmer than the rather flighty J'adoube, Arkt'han leaned down and took in
the scene and swore. 

"Ark... need to get... foot... off..." Gransol repeated. "Might be...
poi... poisoned." 

Grimly, Arkt'han knelt, one hand around Gransol's back and the other under
his knee.  "On three, we'll both pull.  One... two... three..." 

Gransol jerked his foot up at the same time as Arkt'han pulled up on his
knee. The pain wrenched another scream from his throat and the world began
to turn grey. 

"Jad, move!" Arkt'han ordered, realising the knight was going to faint. 

Gransol's arm over his shoulders and his own arm around the larger man's
waist, Jad did his best to brace his friend.  But the difference in mass
was just too great.  When the Knight lost his senses, the younger man
buckled under the weight.  The two fell in a heap, with the injured man on
top.   

Arkt'han swore and with some little difficulty gently rolled Gransol off
the youthful man. "Are you all right, Jad?" 

"It's just not my day," the small man gasped, regaining breath forced out
by the fall.  "I guess I got flattened after all!" 

The burly rider nodded, not in the mood for jokes, as he examined
Gransol's pallid face. "He's right that these could have been envenomed.
I need to get him to the Med Center right away." 

Jad's face regained its former pallor.  "Of course!  Is there anything I
can do to help him?" he asked, staring into the face of the unconscious
man fearfully. 

Arkt'han stood and hefted the knight into a carrying position. "Can you
ride? I want someone to go with Sylan." 

Having something to do, Jad brightened just a bit.  "Yes.  Yes, I think I
can do that...I've ridden a dragon a time or two...back at Marrid...." he
rambled. 

"Good." Arkt'han motioned with his head toward the green female.  "Climb
aboard." He turned to the other warrenfolk who had gathered and picked a
likely candidate from the crowd.  "You there, find something to fence off
this pit so no one else steps in it." With that, he turned and strode to
his dragon. 

Nodding to himself, Jad managed to scramble up into the green dragon's
saddle.  It took a bit of time to adjust the riding straps, since they
were set for Gransol's much larger size, but before long Jad was ready to
go. 

Meanwhile, Arkt'han had climbed aboard Auram and secured Gransol in front
of him. He could feel the knight stirring in his arms. "Rest easy.  We're
taking you to the Med Center." 

Gransol, in a haze of pain, nodded, not trusting his voice, then gasped in
pain as he felt the dragon spring aloft. 

J'adoube watched as the grey dragon took off, at which point he ran into a
problem.  He's never ridden a dragon by himself before....how did he make
it go?  "Umm...follow that dragon!" he tried. 

Sylan stood confused for a moment, her mind absorbing the agony of her
rider. Auram was taking him away...  She had to be near him.  She sprang
into the air following the male. 

Her impromptu rider, not expecting his command to work, was thrown back
against the riding straps at the take-off.  Once he caught his breath from
this most recent accident, Jad stared off toward the disappearing ground
with the awe he always felt adragonback. 

Ignoring the weight on her back, Sylan followed the grey as he spiralled
down to the warren bowl near the Medical Center and landed none too
gently. 

As the poor blond man was tossed about like a reed in a high wind, one of
the riding straps suddenly snapped.  Turning slightly green with
motion-sickness, Jad closed his eyes as he flew to one side, sliding off
the dragon's back.  When he opened them again, the world had turned upside
down.   

Gransol felt himself being laid on a table and opened his eyes, hazily
taking in a female face. "Wanna go back to Marrid..." he muttered. "'T's
safer there..." 

As Arkt'han turned to leave the healers to his work, he nodded at
Gransol's words.  Indeed, Marrid was safer by far. 

Respectfully submitted, 
 Lynette R. F. Cowper 
  Gransol and Sylan 
 David Lankford 
  Arkt'han and Auram 
 David Hoover 
  J'adoube 

NRPG: Anyone, have fun finding the entangled Jad... ;>

---

 Lynette R. F. Cowper <lcowper@io.com>, INWO Line Editor

Return to Marrid Posts for Jul 2000