# Oathbreaker



## Dirge Eterna

Well, this is my first WHFB story...been reading a bit about Fantasy other than Slaanesh, and I like the ideas.

Now, before you begin to throw full beer bottles at your screen, bear with me. I'm new to Fantasy writing. Unlike my WH40K stories, this one won't have set chapters, I'll just write along.

Cheers! :victory:

Note to Fiction Competition people, only the first two chapters are included in Hespithe's Fiction contest. Good Luck to all!
-Dirge
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Althalos moved nearly silently. His sword was padded with worn cloth to keep it from moving. 

He stooped down, his gloved fingers brushing the ground. 

_These tracks. They split off from the main group.._

_To where?_

He paused, glancing down the thickly forested trail.

_Can't tell exactly...somewhere near the village to the north._

A low rumbling echoed through the trees as they were pushed aside by the huge black dragon edging it's way through the trees.

Sydney moved from the treeline, scanning the woods with her striking violet eyes. 

Althalos never actually found out why he could speak to Sydney in such a way, without making any noise. Like they could hear each other, but no one could hear them. He eventually dismissed the thought. It was just the way things were.

_Do you think they went to the village itself? Or just passing by?_

Althalos frowned, concentrating.

_I'm not sure...the main group passed the town. Maybe raiders._

Sydney snorted.

_Don't assume._

Althalos nodded. 

_It's all well and good. Fine. Don't fly, keep low. I'm going to scout ahead._

Sydney nodded her huge head, turning one eye to stare at Althalos.

_Very well. Don't stray too far ahead._

He set off down the trail.

--------------------------

After ten minutes, the village of Reikstahg came into view. Two hundred miles east of Kislev, the town was the last stop for many passing over the Middle Mountains to Middenheim or Altdorf.

Althalos stared blankly down the small incline into the village.

Dozens of Empire soldiers were marching down the main avenue, divesting weeping civilians of husbands and sons. 

"By order of the Count Elector, a state of emergency is declared for the town of Reikstahg. All able-bodied men must report to camps for armarment and training. All women must assist in the fortification of the city. Once again, a state of emergency is declared. Reikstahg is now under martial law of the Count's army." 

Men kissed crying wives. Sons were pulled from weeping mothers. The soldiers did their grim work with a look of sadness and fear in their eyes.

_What's going on?_

Sydney's voice rang through his head.

Althalos chewed his lip. _The Empire's conscripting the civilians. Looks like trouble may have found us._

_As it always does._


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## Master Andael

Well done, I like it:mrgreen:


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## thomas2

Good start, I just hope your fantasy stories reach the same level as your brilliant 40K ones.


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks guys! I do my best. Still trying to figure out one thing...then this story will simply be me writing it down!

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_Will you help them?_

Althalos considered her words. _No. I don't owe the Empire anything. They left me...us, for dead._

_Does one life you left behind justify these people dying?_

He sighed. Sydney always disagreed with him, usually to make him prove a point.

Althalos nodded and turned back into the forest surrounding the town. Empire troops were busily hacking down trees to clear lines of fire. A single blazing Wizard stood among them, flashing trees to ash.

He walked for a half-hour, thinking.

Sydney followed him, occasionally letting out a plume of smoke in her distaste.

_This is taking too long..that village is running out of time!_

"Brother of Khaine! Have you some to join us against the foul Men?"

A tall warrior clad in black armor stepped lightly from the treeline. 

Althalos quickly disguised his confusion.

"No, but I will if you have need."

The warrior hefted his spear.

"Yes, we do, my friend. Many raiders were lost crossing from Naggaroth, we are searching for renegades or survivors."

Althalos thought about the elf's words. _He obviously thinks I'm one of his kin..but how?_

Sydney replied _Your armor, your helmet, myself. You must seem like a noble of his house._

Althalos turned to the elf. "Yes, I will join you to fight with the Druchii."

The warrior bowed slightly before beckoning him to the shoreline, only five minutes away.

_Althalos!_

_We can do much more damage if we strike from the rear._

Sydney let off a plume of smoke. The elf edged away from her.

------------------------------------------------------------

The Dark Elven encampment wasn't much more then a quick and simple fort Empire troops sometimes built. Bolt Throwers lined the wooden stake walls and several Tents bore horrific stains. Screams echoed from these tents.

Althalos cringed.

The elf noticed. "You feel the power of Khaine himself? He has blessed us with a Wych cult to take the fight to the humans!"

They walked through the small camp, passing elves sharpening weapons or fletching arrows. Some bowed as he passed.

"What house are you of, noble?" asked the elf conversationaly.

Althalos quickly (and fearfully) searched his memories for a name.

"House Aeidael," he said, "I left to pursue a broader aspect."

The elf nodded. "Your house continues to do service in the name of Khaine, my noble. They returned from Ulthuan with the bones of their fallen and many slaves."

Althalos breathed a sigh of relief under his helmet.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

An agonizing half-hour later, the Druchii formed up a short distance from the village. One of the Lords of the elves noticed his plain sword.

"Here, nobleman. This is much more proficient for fighting from dragonback."

He handed Althalos a huge halberd, it's surface an odd purplish shade, while horrific jagged teeth lined it's blade. The Dark Elves obviously only cared about the maximum pain inflicted on an enemy.

He hefted the halberd in one hand, sitting calmly on Sydney's back. "Thank you, lord. This will help me to deliever judgement to the prey."

"As you will, Noble."

A massively armored Elf stomped to the front of his host, attended to by a thinner elf with a large burlap sack in his hands.

"Surrender and we shall take you as slaves! Fight, and all of you will die! Choose, or suffer the doom of your herald!"

The elf opened the sack and brandished a severed head. He stretched his arm back and flung the head into the ranks of Empire troops and conscripts.

Nothing moved for a long moment. 

The Bright Wizard Althalos had seen earlier called back.

"Go back to the abyss, creature! We will not bow before your foul master!"

The elf shook his head.

He turned to his attendant.

"Sound the charge. Take as many alive as you can!"

The elves roared their approval.

A low horn blew from somewhere in the army, and suddenly they were moving. The elves stamped alongside Sydney, brandishing weapons and shouting in eldritch tongues.

_Get airborne. We'll circle around the front of their army._

_Excellent._

She opened her wings, and launched into the sky. Althalos saw just how deep the Empire was in. They were outnumbered. Not by many, but given the quality of conscripted troops...

The Wizard saw her and spoke one word to an archer nearby. The man raised a bow and fired.

The arrow burst into white flames, obviously sustained by magic. Althalos raised his shield. The arrow burst through the thick wood and struck him on the arm, drawing a grunt of pain from him. A flash of worry crossed his mind.

_It's fine...keep going. Can't let them win._

Syndey flew to the front line of the elven force, nearing Reikstahg. She opened her jaws, and a ravening blast of black fire roared into the elves, cooking dozens instantly.

The wizard's mouth dropped open in surprise.

Sydney kept the fire going as long as she was able, eventually closing her jaws. The Empire had whittled down the remaining raiders. Free Companies chased Corsairs away from the barricades, while Handgunners fired merciless volleys into the Druchii ranks. The elves were on the verge of breaking, their fight with the Empire and the sudden immolation of their brethren putting their morale on the edge.

The Dark Elven Lord Althalos had seen at the head of the army pointed at him. "See! See the traitor in our midst! Flay their hides and bring me his skull!"

Althalos flipped the halberd in his grip.

He removed his helmet.

He dropped his shield.

And hurled the halberd with all his strength, directly at the Lord.

It burst into radiant flames halfway down it's path. Althalos looked at the Wizard, who smiled.

The Lord was almost fast enough. The spear caught his left breast, and drove almost completely through him, the barbed teeth shredding his organs and leaving him gasping on the scorched, bloody field.

The elves took one look at their leader's corpse, and broke.


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## zboy234

Great stuff Dirge

(Yay 100th POST!:shok::biggrin::victory


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## Dirge Eterna

Hey guys, just to let everyone know, this is my entry into Hespithe's fiction contest, at least the first two chapters. The limit is 2000 words, so I won't be posting any more until after the contest is over.

Thanks for reading!
-Dirge


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## Master Andael

too bad you aint going to post, because I like it so much (never liked the dark elves):laugh:


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## Galahad

Excellent work so far, Dirge.
You could always keep posting more chapters, just make a note that the first two are the only ones entered in the competition. That's what I ended up doing after I talked to Hesp about it.


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## Dirge Eterna

Decided to take Galahad's advice (Thanks, Gal!). This will be updated as lazily as the rest of my stories, but only the first two chapters are part of the Fiction contest.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sydney strode through the piles of dead elves and Empire. Although it was only a small, very quick battle, small heaps of corpses still littered the battlefield. 

Althalos pulled an arrow from a standard bearer's stomach. The man grimaced as the recurve head slid from his flesh. He instantly began to bleed. Althalos cursed.

He leaned close to the man so no one else could see, and removed his glove. He pressed the bare hand against the wound, and spoke two words. The wound glistened, then wove back together. The man clutched at the unbroken skin, then looked up at Althalos.

"You're...a wizard?"

Althalos cringed. "No. I'm not. OK?"

The man looked confused. "OK..Thank you."

Althalos gave the man his waterskin, and the standard bearer ran to join his surviving companions. 

The Bright wizard walked among the men, directing them to pile the Empire dead into graves. The Dark Elves were burned. 

"You're sneaky," said the Wizard, "But not sneaky enough."

The wizard reached into his robes, producing a tome. 

"Aqshy." he said. 

Althalos smiled without humour. "Ghyran, Shyish, and one without name."

"Life and Death?" asked the Wizard, aghast.

"Life from the Jade Academy, Death on my own." said Althalos. 

"And the third?"

"I'll keep that to myself, if you don't mind."

The wizard gestured with his arms to the battlefield around him. He pointed in particular to a scorched and bloody patch where the Elves had been incinerated by Althalos' deceit.

"Not after that, I won't mind. Keep your secrets, lad. Would you like to stay here, at least for the night? We've not seen your like in many years."

Althalos removed his bladed helmet. He reached to his side and removed the halberd from the Dark Elven Lord's body. The blade had sucked the blood from the creature, making his corpse pure white and withered.

"I'd like that. Does Reikstahg's tavern still stand?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Althalos clashed a stein of ale with a man in the colors of a Kislev knight. The man's comrades laughed. Sydney was outside, chewing noisily on a deer carcass. Several State Troops were drinking, or playing dice on the tables. The brewer looked tired from hauling barrels upon barrels up from the cellars. 

After soundly beating the knight in a drinking game, the Bright Wizard sat down across from Althalos at the table.

"What I really want to know is why you're here." said the Wizard, stroking his smoldering beard.

Althalos had his boots on the table, and was sharpening a dagger with his whetstone.

"That...is a very long story." he said.

The dagger made an uncomfortable rasp on the stone. The wizard grabbed the blade, and melted the edge to a near-translucent sharpness.

"Thank you." said Althalos, retrieving the knife.

"We have all night, and I'm certainly not going anywhere. Kislev's forces are still scattered, trying to regroup from the Storm."

Althalos set his helmet on the table. It was cylindrical, with a cruel visor and small breathing holes punched into it's front. A crown of blades rose to a nest of points aboive his head. 

"Well..," he said. "It all started with this."


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## Dirge Eterna

Althalos had been six years old when his father left to fight the Beastmen in the northern wastes. He left four times, each time coming back with armfuls of fresh bread and sausages. He also seemed to become more and more decorated, his armor grew more elaborate, his weapons more ornate. Then, he never returned. His helmet and sword, along with a note of condolence, was given to Althalos' mother. She had died ten years later, after being sick for many weeks. Althalos was then shuttled to the Jade Academy, after his uncle had noticed him healing a dead tree in front of his brewery.

Four years after his mother died, he left the Jade Academy for good. The wizards were old and for the most part, boring. Only his mentor, Ulrik, ever interested Althalos. He learned from the Lore of Death in his solitude, and there, he met Sydney. 

He had originally thought the black egg to be a large rock. Althalos had picked it up out of curiousity, and brought it to the next town he stopped at. There, it was recognized as a dragon egg. The Empire conscripted him, and attempted to take the egg for one of it's counts (or dignitaries. Althalos had little patience for earls of something).

He escaped with Sydney, and fled to Kislev. There, Sydney hatched and grew, while he hunted phesant and rabbits to eat. Two months after Sydney had hatched, she was old enough to ride, and Althalos had begun to travel, selling himself as a mercenary.

He had grown tired of fighting inbred duke's wars for them, and simply left, occupying himself with staying alive. He had been tracking a group of Empire soldiers when the Reikstahg party split off and engaged the Dark Elves.

------------------------------------------------

The wizard nodded.

"Well then, would you continue to fight for money?"

Althalos' violet eyes gleamed.

"Of course. Who's the target?"


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## Master Andael

Very good, Dirge. Only a bit short.


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## Dirge Eterna

I know, I know. Once again, a product of me rushing out the door.

-Dirge


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## Dirge Eterna

Althalos shivered.

"Why, why did it have to be cold?" he said.

"Why der yer think it's called der Chaos wastes, laddie? Der ain't not'in out 'ere."

Althalos hugged himself, trying to stay warm. Sydney huddled closer to him, and suddenly he was much warmer. The small fire wasn't doing much besides melting a puddle of snow around it. A knot of swordsmen had gathered around him, as Sydney was the only real source of heat there was.

The oldest of the swordsmen, a gnarled old man with an eyepatch and several missing fingers, had befriended Althalos almost immediately. His name was Hadrian. 

Hadrian was sitting next to Althalos, chewing noisily on a small bone of some kind. 

The opposing army was visible as a mottled line about a half-mile from where Althalos was lying against Sydney's belly. 

Black standards were raised among them. Hulking figures in red-black armor. A wide-mouthed cannon of some kind was tended to by hateful-looking Dwarves. 

The Bright Wizard moved through his men, encouraging them, handing out bread, and occasionally asking them about families or children.

After an hour, a cry was heard. 

"Alarm! Alarm!"

Hadrian pulled his sword from it's worn scabbard. 

"Best be off, lad. The Enemy isn't known for his patience."


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## Dirge Eterna

Althalos sat atop a pile of dead enemies, the sickly purple glow of the Druchii halberd making their red armor appear darker then it was. His armor was rent in a dozen places, small, weak strikes that the Chaos worshippers had managed to land on him. His greatest worry was a suppering wound in his side. A grime-encrusted Champion had somehow danced a rusted sword past Althalos' guard, and struck him just below his ribs.

Sydney had immolated the man, and the majority of his equally grime-encrusted followers, in a single blast of dragonfire. 

Hadrian and his remaining Swordsmen were laying around the pile, catching their breath or taking a drink. The main engagement was to the east now, most of the Marauders had fled after Sydney's blazing charge into their lines. The few Chaos Warriors remaining had fought to the death, taking many Imperial lives. The mortuary wagons were still rolling through the battlefield, picking up the obviously dead, and marking the wounded for the stretchers. The Chaos warriors they burned in a heap at the edge of the field.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Erh...Sigmar! It hurts!" 

"Hold still, lad. You've still got a piece stuck in you..."

Gregor maneuvered the forceps into the ragged wound in Althalos' side. He pinched something. Althalos bit down hard on the stick Hadrian had given him. A smaller man, looking a bit green for a battlefield surgeon, was watching Gregor pull pieces of the Plague Knife out. 

Althalos quickly figured out why. The wound was an awful green splotch, with pus seeping from the dead areas of his flesh. A shard of the knife, roughly four inches long, was leaking rust into the cut. Small boils were springing up around the injury.

Gregor moved into the way of his vision. 

"It'll be OK, lad. These eyes have seen worse."

Sydney's thoughts touched his.

_I doubt it._

Althalos whimpered as Gregor tightened his grip on the shard.

_If you die under his knife I will personally hunt him down and turn him to ash._

_Er....It's not his...ah...fault._

_None the less. My anger will be sated on a scapegoat if need be. That heretic didn't suffer enough before he died._

_You're starting to...eh...sound like a Druchii..._

Outside the surgery tent, Sydney snorted fire and glared at the nearest guard. The man edged away from her.

Gregor tensed. Althalos winced as the forceps tightened to their maximum.

The old surgeon placed both hands on the tool, and yanked the rusted shard out of Althalos' side. He screamed as the full pain of the wound struck him. The younger orderly's eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out.

Gregor pulled a length of twine and a red-hot needle from a brazier, and stitched the wound closed with powdered Mandrake root in it, to prevent the Chaos spawned infection from spreading. Althalos winced each time his skin burned from the needle, but compared to the plague, the pain was nothing. He allowed himself to fall into the abyss of unconciousness. He smiled at Sydney's restrained wrath a second before everything went black, and there was peace.


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## Dirge Eterna

Althalos groaned. He heard voices.

_I think he's coming to.

You know what happened last time we had a Everta here.

I know. This one's different.

No, he's not. You're just getting attached to him. He lied about the Jade Academy. He's not a Wizard.

I saw him heal a trooper.

He's a sorcerer, idiot! Haven't you seen that creature?

The dragon? That doesn't prove anything.

Not the dragon! I think it's a familiar...a demon!_

Althalos squeezed his eyes shut, and gripped Haze tightly to his chest under the sheet.

---------------------------------------------------------------


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## Lore-Colten

haze aye? intresting..like to see more coming=P


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## Commissar Ploss

still a damn good story dirge! i'm surprised i beat it! 

congrats mate!


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## Dirge Eterna

The Wizard brushed the tent flap aside as he walked briskly inside. Althalos smiled weakly.

"Feeling better?" asked the Wizard. Small embers detatched from his beard and smoldered on the ground.

"An overstatement to say better, but yes. I'm getting there." said Althalos.

The Wizard smiled, then pulled the rough blanket off in one motion. Althalos rolled over.

"Turn over."

Althalos didn't move. 

The Wizard grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and wrenched him over. Haze flopped out and fell onto the bed. The small familiar cringed in terror as the Wizard loomed over it.

"You lied about the Academy."

Althalos lowered his gaze. "Yes."

"You lied about your parents as well?"

"Not entirely. My father did die fighting the beastmen, and my armor and weapons are his, but my mother is not dead. In fact, she is what I ran from."

The Wizard stooped low over the bed. "I am a great many things, young Althalos. I have seen a great many wonders and terrors. But I will not be lied to. You know freelance Sorcery is punishable by death."

Althalos didn't waver. "I cannot help what I am. Seperation from Haze would be akin to losing my soul."

"And your dragon?"

"She already knows. We are very alike, Sydney and I. But I will not face the gallows because of the Empire's intolerance. Your Emperor attempted to kill me once. It shall not happen again."

The Wizard stroked his beard. Althalos got off of the simple straw bed and began to strap on his armor. Boots, greaves, gauntlets, cuirass, pauldrons, and finally his bladed helm. He strapped his sword to his side and slung the halberd across his back.

"Young Althalos, I do not know what it is like to be hunted. Truthfully, I came from a wealthy family. I never knew hardship. But, unfortunately, the law is the law."

Outside, Sydney growled. _Betrayal! Oathbreakers!_

The Wizard pulled a burning sword from it's scabbard. "Althalos, son of none, I hereby name you traitor in service to the Emperor of Altdorf. You are stripped of all rank and will submit to a full tribunal, at which time the extent fo your crimes will be made known."

Sydney opened her mouth, and a ravening blast of black fire consumed the man, along with the front half of the tent. Haze ran up Althalos' arm and into a ***** in his armor. Althalos placed his boot into the iron step and vaulted onto Sydney's back, pulled the halberd from it's sling. A young Swordsman ran at them, screaming. Sydney roared, and the man dropped his sword, and then fell to his knees. The great dragon crouched, and then shot into the sky, a plume of smoke trailing behind her.

The Bright Wizard picked himself up from the ashes, and brushed a bit of singed fabric from his robes.

An Engineer with a long rifle began to draw a bead on the retreating dragon. The wizard placed his staff on the barrel of the gun.

"He may be a sorcerer, but by the Gods, he knows how to make an exit. I think he's perfect for what the Tribunal has in mind. Fetch me Golrik. He'll know how to track one such as he."


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## Dirge Eterna

Sydney flew long and hard, passing well over the Middle Mountains. She saw the city there, it's magnificent Palace seeming small and incomprehensible to one such as she.

Her vision, as always, was tinted a slight violet color by her eyes. Humans scurried to and fro as she entered their field of vision. Archers fired small darts, which pinged harmlessly off her armored hide. Eventually the archers were berated by a tired-looking knight, who shook a sword at her until she left his field of vision.

When they finally reached the western side of the Middle Mountains, Althalos fell asleep on her back, his arms and legs tied to the saddle, so he would not fall. Sydney wriggled in the air as a cloud covered her with small droplets. She turned her head, making sure that the slight weight of Althalos' body was still there. She nudged his dreams.

_Little one.
Yes?
We have passed the spine-in-the-earth. Many leagues seperate us from the shoreline, but we will be there before tomorrow, if the winds remain true.

Thank you.
_

Althalos' mind fell back into the dream, and Sydney chuckled a low rumble.

It was six hours later that it happened.

A dozen or so Dwarven Gyrocopters swung out of a cloud, armed with large netguns and spear throwers. Bearded pilots and gunner swore curses and drank from aleskins.

Sydney dove through them, shredding one of the machines with the downdraft of her passage. 

The clouds parted. Land lay just a hundred feet below.

Sydney's wings snapped open. 

The dwarves began to sing a slurred song. Nets ensnared her legs and tail. More pinned her wings. Althalos managed to cut one of them in twane before a second pinned him to Sydney's back. The black dragon hit the rocky soil, driving the breath from her lungs. She attempted to stand. The Dwarves fired the weighted spears. They struck the ground, holding Sydney's frame against the earth.

An odd gyrocopter flew above them, a large tank slung underneath it. A strange mist drifted toward the ground.

Sydney gasped as her lungs finally found air.

Her vision dulled. Her belly lost it's fire, her feeble attempts to down the copter met with only wisps of smoke. Sydney sank back down to the ground as her vision blurred, and the world went black.

She heard onle one thing before she slipped away.

"We've got em', we're slingin' em' between three of the copters'. That oughta' do."

"Excellent work, Golrik. Bring them to Aeyri Peak immediately. We have some things to talk about."


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## Dirge Eterna

Sydney jerked awake, her long neck twisting this way and that, searching for enemies. Althalos was next to her, his eyes fluttering open.

She bent and licked him, her rough tongue brushing against his helmet and face.

_Little one.

Uh...where are we?

I know not. The Dwarf drugged us. I was only just concious. Did your familiar survive?

Haze is fine. As far as I know, he is immune to the pains of the flesh._

A stout dwarf entered the chamber. Sydney reared up and roared, showing her vast maw. The dwarf didn't even look up. Instead, he tugged at a fat brass lever, and the wall he was at clanked into the ceiling and out of sight.

A vast golden statue remained. It's body was polished until even Sydney's black scales were reflected as gold. It's eyes shone with gold-shot rubies. Althalos and Sydney both felt the intelligence that spoke.

_Young ones. It has been many years since your kind set foot amongst my halls._

Sydney's eyes widened. Althalos sat up.

"Our kind? Who are you?"

_I have no name that can be spoken in this tongue._

A series of images and ideas flashed through Sydney and Althalos' shared conciousness. Long tooth, broken claw, damp cave, burned bone, one-hundred-five eggs sired, and thirty offspring grown to full dragons.

_Rather, I am known as Aurum, as a result of my present form. I have a task set aside for you, hatchlings. But for that, it will have to wait. You ask what your kind is. You tell me, young one. What do you have that makes you so different? _

Althalos' eyes flashed to Sydney.

"We are one...in all but body."

Althalos thought he saw Aurum's ruby eyes flash.

_Exactly. You are among the last of the Ihn Draconir, the "One with Dragons". It was a talent many possessed before the last Chaos War. Many were lost, most before their time. But now is not the time to mourn, for we have found our target for revenge._

The dwarf, who had remained silent through the exchange, cursed and spat on the stone floor as Aurum said "target".

Sydney looked at him.

"That traitorous cretin, Jakob Vernier. He is regent of most of the lands to the northwest of the Middle Mountains. It was his troops that failed to hold back the Storm."

_Vernier and five of his closest companions hold my sons and daughters hostage, each for their own reason. None of them are pleasurable, all of them are dark and terrible, benefitting only the oathbreaker responsible for such acts._

"Your sons and daughters?"

_I am old, youngling. Very old. I was ancient before Sigmar first swung a hammer, and will quite possibly endure until the end of all things. But I consider myself to be the father and protector of all those dragons not twisted by undeath or Chaos._

The Bright Wizard entered at the head of a small band of dwarves and humans. 

"The dwarves found Aurum decades ago, and we agreed to help them in his quest. In return, he gives us the use of Aeyri Peak and the Whispering Caves to use as a base, fortress, and safehaven. Nothing that can't fly is getting up the mountains, and nothing that can fly flies without Aurum's permission in the peaks."

Althalos stabbed an accusing finger at the wizard.

"In Reikstahg, you tried to kill me. You tried to kill Sydney."

The wizard nodded slowly. "I had to make sure you were not too expressly loyal to Karl Franz's regime. For all his pomp and ceremony, many of his dukes and regents are not so savory after all."

"Like this Jakob Vernier."

_Precisely. Will you help me, Althalos Half-Elven and Sydney Darkscales? I require your skills to free my children. Only they can help you defeat Vernier._

Althalos looked at Sydney.

_Aurum, we accept your offer, but many years have made us quite...paranoid. We require proof of your claims._

_I expected no less. Go to the forests north of the spine-in-the-earth. There you will find your first target. The elf Kilf. She has enslaved my daughter, Adurna, to use as a hunting beast. Go now, and may the wind lift under your wings._


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## Dirge Eterna

Sydney flew hard and fast back over the Middle Mountains toward Reikstahg, Althalos looking eagerly around from the saddle. His sword had a new charm hung from the hilt, a small golden dragon with ruby eyes. He had, on Sydney's advice, long ago given up wearing a helmet while riding on dragonback. Vision was everything.

After three hours of flying, the dragon amulet's eyes began to glow violently red.

_That's the signal, isn't it?

Yes. Adurna must be getting closer....try north a bit.

I agree, little one. The wooded areas would conceal more wildlife, therefore better hunting grounds._

Althalos loosened the sword in his scabbard. 

A dozen things happened at once.

A flight of brown arrows sprung up from the trees. Sydney hit a pocket of dense air and flipped sideways, banking hard to the left. A blue dragon, almost half again as large as Sydney, burst from the trees, a shouting elf on her back. The dragon's eyes were half-closed, leather reins tied around it's head and neck. The elf's bow had a large blue jewel set into it, which glowed the same color as Adurna's eyes.

Sydney's bank took her over the arrows, two of which shot through her left wing, leaving bloody holes. Althalos gasped as the pain lanced through their shared conciousness. Adurna swept upwards, Kilf firing arrows. A third arrow stuck into Sydney's wing joint. 

Althalos marshalled his power around his glove. With a gesture, a ravening blast of energy smashed into the light elf.

Kilf screamed as her arm snapped in a dozen places. She gripped Adurna's reins tightly in the other hand, drawing her to smash into Sydney's side. Gashes opened where the dragons' scales sliced into each other.

Althalos swept his sword over Adurna's saddle. Kilf raised the bow. The sword bounced off the blue jem. 

Adurna coughed a gout of fire.

_The jem! It's the focus of her magic!_

Althalos nodded. He swung again, this time the enchanted blade whistled through the tough string of Kilf's bow, snapping it. The elf grunted in pain as her wrist was sprained. She threw a blast of weak magic at Althalos, flinging him sideways. He threw his arms around Sydney's neck, steadying himself.

Kilf swore and glared at Althalos, her eyes filled with tears at the pain of her shattered arm. A half-second of shared hatred passed between the two, and then Althalos swung the black sword again, shearing the elf's head from her shoulders, helm and all. Kilf's face had just a second to look in stupefied astonishment before she registered that she was dead. Althalos reached out and snagged the horsehair crest on the elf's helmet, still stained with the blood of it's former owner. Kilf's head flashed past Adurna's face. The jewel set into the bow exploded.

The dragon let out a cry of pain and anguish so loudly that Althalos pressed his hands over his ears. Adurna tore the reins and saddle from her body, her claws shredding the worn leather. 

_Half-Elven and Darkscales, I thank you forever for your service...although it has been some time since I was myself. I find myself thinking it was Aurum that sent you?

Yes, Bluescales. Aurum sent us from Aeyri Peak to find you. He said that the Whispering Caves beneath the Thornhold have been set aside for you and your kin. 

Aurum has always been good to me and my kin. I am glad that you agreed to help me... that creature used me as a simple beast. Dragons are not to be enslaved. Dragons are meant to be free.

On that, we can agree._

Althalos smiled as approval radiated from Sydney across their link. As the two dragons winged south back to Aeyri Peak, one of the Elven archers removed a small mirror from his pocket. He whispered two words of magic, then spoke aloud.

"It's begun."


----------



## Dirge Eterna

Aurum's golden shell gleamed as Althalos and Sydney entered the Thornhold, Adurna close behind. A dwarf with a bottle of polish and a rag was swabbing the statue. Adurna growled and wisps of blue fire escaped her jaws. The dwarf folded up his stepladder, and quickly found work elsewhere. Aurum's eyes glinted.

_My hatchling. It has been many years since the Thornhold shook to your tread._

Adurna made an odd, hacking noise Althalos recognized as dragon's laughter. 

_It has. I assume that Mournhold's breweries are still producing firewhiskey at a prodigious rate?

Of course. So much so that we have been selling it as flamethrower pitch to the Empire/_

Sydney cocked her head.

_You trade among the Empire?

Of course, young one. We trade firewhiskey and metal work for cloth, candles, wood, tools, and other things Mourngard cannot make for itself._

A fat cart was heaved into the room by two dwarves and a stout man. Two barrels marked with a fire-and-skull insignia sat atop it.

"What's that?" asked Althalos aloud. One of the dwarves patted the cart.

"Firewhiskey, laddie. It's distilled from fireweed, which is good for the dragons' systems."

Adurna nodded an affirmation, as she relieved the cart of one of the barrels. She stabbed a hole into the lid, revealing a sluggish, brown-red liquid that reminded Althalos of half-dried blood. She held the barrel in her mouth, and tilted her head vertical, so the drink poured down her gullet. The empty barrel cracked to the floor.

_I see Mournhold's brewers have lost none of their talent. Thank you. Now, if we are done, I would like to retire to the Whispering Caves, if the dwarves have not filled my den with riches or something._

Aurum's statue seemed to glow on the inside.

_Of course. Sydney, the second barrel is for you, if you wish. The Whispering Caves are the lodgings for the many dragons and draconians that frequent the Thornhold. They are a system of caverns and caves under the citadel. Most have openings to the outside, but there is a outcrop for you to take off from. Move the gold to another room if you are troubled by the noise.

Gold?

Yes. The dragons, and more recently the dwarves, have used the Whispering Caves as a treasury since the time of Sigmar. You could buy Brettonia with the treasure of Aeyri Peaks. This is why we defend it so zealously. If the Empire were to learn of it, terrible things would follow._

Althalos pulled Kilf's helm from his bags and tossed it. It bounced once, and rolled faceup to stare at Aurum.

_Excellent, my hatchlings. The first of the six lay dead, and you are ready to face the second. Now is not the time, however. Stay for a few days, enjoy Mournhold's comforts. I am certain it's lords wish to shower you with gifts, and there is the Feast of the Harvest two days hence._

Althalos noticed Sydney edging toward the cart with it's remaining barrel. 

_Don't mind if we do.[i/]

-----------------------------------------------------------

The Whispering Caves were, as Aurum said, filled with gold. Heaps of jewels and gold coins were stacked on chests of riches and golden helms. Althalos picked his way through thin alleyways of priceless artifacts. Sydney had chosen a medium-sized cavern set about a dozen feet above the cave floor. A dwarf had brought food and mead, as well as a second barrel of firewhiskey. Althalos gave a ruby-encrusted sword a few practiced swings before casting it into the riches below. The pair spent the better part of the two days seperating them from the Feast of the Harvest with each other, exploring Mourngard and the Thornhold. The residents were friendly, many invited Althalos to sample wares or food. Several asked him to bless children or husbands at war.

On the morning of the Feast, a dwarf brought new clothes and shoes to Althalos in the Whispering Caves. The dwarf waited as he swapped out his rough traveling clothes for the finer garments. He strapped his sword to his side, and they walked the short way to the Thornhold's great hall. A hundred or so dwarves and humans were talking, laughing, and sharing outlandish tales. All conversation stopped as Althalos entered. A hundred pairs of eyes turned to stare. Sydney nudged him in the back, and he managed a nervous wave before sprinting for the table. The Bright Wizard, a dwarven clan chief, and a dozen other high-ranking officers sat around him, talking. The dwarf chieftan turned from one of his kinsmen to address Rider and dragon.

"So you're the one Aurum's sent, eh?"

Althalos nodded. "I suppose so."

The chief chuckled warmly. "Don't be so stiff, laddie. Here! Have a drink!"

A tankard the size of a small bucket splashed down in front of Althalos.

"Skal!" roared the dwarf. He took a great gulp of mead and hurled the tankard across the hall. It rebounded off a large bell with a resounding clang. The hall exploded with cheers and laughter as the feast began. Roasted sheep and boar drifted past Althalos. He weighed his own stien, marveling at the dwarf's strength. One of the guards leaned over to speak to him.

"It's an old custom from when the court of Mourngard was poisoned, that the king test the food first and declare it safe for his guests. If he does not have the strength to ring the bell, none eat."

A sheep was set down in front of Sydney, followed by a barrel of mead, by a portly dwarf in a leather apron. He bowed to the dragon before helping his comrades with even more food. Cheese, sheep, boars, spits of beef, steamed vegetables, loaves of breads, and even odd foods like eel began to populate the table. Althalos tore a bite of sheep from his piece.

Delicious.

Sydney was up to her eyes in her own sheep, using her razor teeth to chew entire bones.

I wonder how they cook an entire animal at once?

A very large fire, I suspect.

The table next to Althalos' began to indulge in a drinking contest. Sydney ground her second sheep into a few quick bites, followed by the barrel of mead.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Sydney wobbled quite a bit on the way back to the Whispering Caves. 

Three barrels of mead! If I drank that, I'd be dead!

Ow...that is why I am a dragon and you are not, little one.

She curled up in the cavern with Althalos snug against her belly. Something stabbed him in the back. He groped around, and angrily tossed a fist-sized emerald from the cave. Sydney's breathing became slow and even, following by a quiet hiccup. Althalos smiled.

-------------------------------------------------------

Aurum was radiant the next morning. A dozen warriors in gleaming plate mail were standing around the dragon statue. Althalos and Sydney walked into the room, fully armed and armored for their next fight. 

My hatchlings, listen closely. Althalos, I know your sword was damaged in the fight with Kilf, and the Lords have begged me to bequeth this upon you.

The foremost warrior unwrapped a gleaming black sword from cloth. It's hilt was silver, with a black gem set into it. The light around the sword bent, as if the sword did not want to be illuminated. Haze slicked out of Althalos' armor, chattering in admiration at the sword. The familiar flowed down his arm and into the gem. The sword's black aura grew to a shimmering, fiendish glow.

It is the blade Vrolmgang, forged many years ago by Vaul, a legendary bladesmith. His metalwork is highly prized among mortals.

Althalos' mouth fell agape. Sydney snorted, breaking him away from the blade's majesty. 

I would be honored to wield Vrolmgang in battle.

He removed his chipped and notched blade from it's scabbard and handed it to the warrior. The man nodded and wrapped the old blade in a soft cloth.

And with that, young ones, you are ready to face General Sturnn. Look for him far to the north, near the borders of the Chaos Wastes. His army is based there.

His whole army?

Sturnn is overconfident by easy victories over weak marauders, even arrogant. He will fight you one-on-one, I am sure.

--------------------------------------------------------

Sydney flew low and fast over the mountains, following a thin river north. Althalos took in the devastation wrought by the Storm of Chaos. Villages lay in black ruins. Bodies piled ten high were piled about battlefields, with the black bones of funeral pyres. At one point a tirbe of feral men passed beneath Sydney, shouting in rough tongues and shaking wooden spears. After a day of flying, Sydney collapsed in a heap in a small den, already asleep. Althalos once again slept against her belly, the warmth making his blanket unecessery. 

The next morning, Althalos ate a small breakfast of hard tack and cold bacon. A few hours after he woke up, a scream shattered the peaceful morning air. A soldier in Sturnn's levery ran burning from Sturnn's pavilion. He fell to the ground, his skin crisping. A lean, bearded man in green armor raised a sword. The soldier screamed a denial just as Sturnn swept his blade down, breaking the man's neck.

He has a short temper, it would seem.

Yes. We can use tht against him.

She opened her wings, Althalos clambering onto her back. Sydney swooped low over the camp, a roar building in her throat. Soldiers wept in fear and fell over as they fled from the terrifying new enemy in their midst. Sturnn threw aside the tent flap of his pavilion in a rage.

"Who dares disturb Lord General Tobias Sturnn?!" He roared.

Sydney stopped a dozen feet from him and hovered, flattening nearby tents with the turbulence caused by her wingbeats. 

"Tobias Sturnn, we name you traitor to Aeyri Peak for the enslavement of Baldur the Green!" retorted Althalos, brandishing Vrolmgang.

The man swore and fled into his tent. A moment later the tent exploded, and Sturnn rode a huge green dragon into the sky. Althalos gasped as he saw Baldur. A dozen steel pins were stuck into the dragon's head and neck, with Sturnn holding small wires that her pulled in sequence to control the dragon's movements.

Kill him. hissed Sydney. This is needless cruelty. 

Althalos nodded in agreement and Sydney swept upwards. She followed the green dragon, the pain and rage plainly visible in his eyes. 

Then we shall dance, friend of my heart?

Of course, little one.

She beat her wings, catching up to Baldur. Sturnn's eyes widened and he drew a golden blade, waving it as if to frighten Althalos away. Their climb continued until even the dragons began to feel dizzy. Sturnn blocked Vrolmgang with a flourish. His eyes were glassy, and his movements slow, yet he still managed to deflect Althalos' strikes. They fought for many strikes, each trying to gain the advantage. Vrolmgang pinned the sword to Sturnn's chest, and Haze slicked across the sword and into the golden blade. It shook violently, and then exploded, sending razor shards into Sturnn's face and hands. The blast threw both fighters flying. Althalos grabbed a strap to arrest his fall, but Sturnn missed his grab. Screaming, he passed from Althalos' field of vision through the clouds. Sydney dove as Althalos steadied himself. The pair reached Sturnn at a few thousand feet, the man's cries turning to a single, sobbing scream. Althalos grabbed him by the neck of his armor, prying the sword hilt from his grip. Haze chattered in gratitude as he flowed back into Vrolmgang. He was about to release the general when the man sobbed harder.

"Please...don't!" he cried.

Althalos began to lift him onto the saddle when Sturnn pulled a short dagger from his armor and stabbed it into Althalos' shoulder. Sydney roared in pain and anger, turning to bite into Sturnn with all the power she could muster. The man kicked once, then fell still as her teeth sheared right through him. She spat his remains into the air. Baldur swung down beside them. The pins were gone, replaced by thin rivulets of blood where they were stabbed into his flesh.

Thank you, my friends. Long have I dreamt of rescue, and here it is! I am in your debt, now and forever!

Althalos placed Sturnn's sword in his saddlebags and rubbed his shoulder as the two dragons winged south, back toward Aeyri Peak.

For most of the flight back, Althalos slept in Sydney's saddle, waking with a start every time the dragons hit a patch of denser air. Finally, Aeyri Peak came into view.

It's beautiful. remarked Sydney, her eyes reflecting the light.

Yes, it is. I thought you had been here before. said Baldur, nodding.

Althalos raised his head. The first time we were here we were drugged. The second time, when we returned with Adurna, it was foggy.

The Thornhold rose like a white obelisk from Aeyri Peak's tip. Fully three hundred feet high, and nearly a hundred and fifty across, the keep sat like a proud shield atop the mountain. The village of Mournhold clustered around it, like stone ducks clustered around their mother. Sydney and Baldur set down near the entrance to the Whispering Caves, their talons clicking against the stone. Baldur nodded a greeting to Adurna, and promptly fell asleep in a den high above the floor, with thin wisps of sunlight filtering from above. Sydney was too tired from the flight to even speak to Althalos, who fell asleep against her side, happy with their latest sucess._


----------



## Dirge Eterna

Althalos woke to the roaring crash of falling coins. He sat up to see a small avalanche of gold and gems fall, burying a dozen loaded mine carts, and an astonished Baldur. The green dragon was completely covered except for his nose and the tip of his tail. Althalos bit back a laugh.

_Aurum sent me to inform you of your new target._

Sydney picked her head off the floor, and looked at the pile with wry amusement.

_Did he count on your premature burial?_

Baldur sniffed at the air. _I believe this outcome was unexpected._

Althalos chuckled as Sydney leapt from the cave to dig Baldur from the pile.

_Ah. Thank you. Now, your next target is Goekz Ironfist of Karaz Ragni to the northwest. He holds Vaul the Once-Red captive. Aurum requests you make all haste to join the seige.

Siege?

Yes. The forces of Aeyri Peak are even now laying siege to he fortress. You will not be alone in your endeavor, but Aurum requests you hasten.

Of course. We can be there by tonight._

Baldur snorted his contentment, and shook the last few coins from his scales. Sydney looked at Althalos with her violet eyes, scanning him.

_You're letting this little quest into your life quite a bit.

I know you are too.

Aurum is one of the most ancient examples of my race, and one of these dragons may prove a fit mate. You, on the other hand, are not here for riches, or any baser need.

I'm here because I've finally found a cause I cannot find fault in.

Fault?

Yes. My family betrayed me at House Aedail. The Empire betrayed me shortly thereafter. Being a mercenary had too few rewards. I'm in this for you.

...really?

Yes. 

Thank you, little one._

She bent and licked the side of his face. He quickly belted his armor on and threw Sydney's saddle and tack onto her back, belting that down as well. His helm was buckled to his side, followed by Vrolmgang. Haze swam up and down the blade, making it's aura shimmer like moving oil.

He clambered onto Sydney's back, and she leapt from the side of Aeyri Peak. Her wings close to her side, they fell for a thousand feet before the ground began to level out. Tears streamed back from Althalos' face. He laughed in giddy excitement, knowing Sydney felt the same. At a hundred feet from crashing into the ground, excavating a gory crater in the process, Sydney's wings snapped open. Gravity returned with a massive wieght, pinning Althalos to Sydney's back. 

She flapped her wings twice,taking them over a thin river, the same one they had followed north to Sturnn's encampment. Dwarves tending fields of grain waved as they flew overhead. As with their last trip, the main leg of the journey was uneventful, Althalos mostly looking over Sydney's sides to take in the view from a few thousand feet. 

By nightfall, the fortress of Karaz Ragni was visible. The majority of the structure was aflame, tiny specks grappling on the battlements and in the gate's shadow. Sydney bent her long, sinuous body downwards, angling through the wisps of fog and flocks of gore-crows to land with a heavy crack on the battlement. A captain with Aurum's sigil inlaid on his helm saluted him with a notched blade.

"Half-Elven! We knew you'd come! Aurum's courier sent us word!"

Althalos returned the salute. "What's the situation?"

The man nodded grimly. "We've taken the foremost part of the wall, but the gate's reinforced with something...broke the ram a few days ago. We've been trying to gain the walls ever since."

Althalos glanced at the gates. A fat rune glowed on the surface.

"Continue the assault. We'll take the gates."

The captain hesitated. "But...sir..."

Althalos looked at him. The man swallowed.

"Yes sir."

Sydney snorted a plume of fire. The soldiers whooped a wild warcry and ran off into the fray. Althalos leaned left as Sydney leapt from the parapet. Vrolmgang struck the rune, letting Haze flow into it. Just like Sturnn's sword, the rune detonated into shards, shredding a few startled dwarves and a Runesmith on the other side of the gates as the stout portal exploded inwards. Sydney leapt back over the battlments into the courtyard, as a flood of Aurum's soldiers poured into the keep, laying into the dwarves.

She landed amidst a troop of warriors, her teeth grinding two of the dwarves to metal-flecked paste. Vrolmgang flashed, splitting a dwarf's helm. Haze flowed across the battlefield, up Sydney's leg, across her back, and up Althalos' back to slick back into the gem set into Vrolmgang. Suddenly, he was surrounded by soldiers, who stabbed and cut with reckless abandon. Sydney took off again, scattering those fighting around her. 

She landed atop a tower, tearing at a ballistae's crew. Althalos leapt off Sydney's back to kick a dwarf from the top of the battlement. He sliced a second dwarf's head from his shoulders just as he felt a slight twinge in the air.

_Sydney!_ he screamed through their linked minds. She turned just as a Grudge Thrower's stone smashed into the tower, dropping them both three floors to fall onto the forge's main section. Sydney landed badly, falling backwards out the main doors. Althalos tripped as he tried to catch himself, and collapsed against a smelter in the middle of the room. His exposed flesh burned as it contacted the heated smelter. He yelped and jumped back. Something beneath the smelter roared. A mind, not Sydney's familiar conciousness, but another, touched his own mind.

_Young one. You've come.

What?

Less questions. More knocking this damned smelter over._

Althalos was about to call Sydney when the wall he was next to exploded. Bits of the wall cut into his face and hands. A dozen dwarves in gold armor poured through the gap, led by a huge, armored dwarven chief.

"Chain that creature down! No one takes it! A thousand new entries in the Books of Grudges today, lads! no one pulls one over Goekz Ironfist!"

Althalos tried to shift the rocks covering him, but Ironfist stomped over his hiding spot, pinning him down. Sydney gave a mental cry of anguish and rage, and smashed through the second ouside wall. Ironfist and his warriors were thrown backwards, falling against half-finished swords and axes. One was stabbed through his gorget by a blade, falling into a pool of his own blood, but the rest leapt up, charging towards Sydney. The dragon took a step back, astounded at the dwarves' courage. She enveloped the entire unit in blistering fire, cooking six inside their armor. The rest threw grappels and rope over her frame, slowly dragging her down. A dwarf struck her between the eyes with a heavy mallet, stunning her. He fitted a metal muzzle over her snout, preventing her from breathing fire. Althalos' mind spiralled into hatred over their rabid attack, and he shouted a challenge, throwing off the rocks with strengh unknown to him. He threw Vrolmgang, the black sword whistling through the air to slice the dwarf with the muzzle's torso cleanly in half. He drew a short dagger and stabbed the second through his helmet's eyeslit before the rest were even aware of his presence. He pulled Vrolmgang from the dwarf's corpse, using it to parry a gold axe, before disembowling the dwarf that had attacked him. A fourth rushed him, brandishing a mace. Althalos trapped the mace against Vrolmgang and kicked the dwarf in the fork of his legs. Using the momentary distraction, he swiped the dwarf's head from his shoulders. Ironfist bowled him over, swinging a massive axe. 

"Imbeciles! You can't even kill one pathetic human!" he shrieked. 

Althalos spat a globule of blood as he stood up. He gripped Vrolmgang in both hands, discarding the dagger. Ironfist gestured at Sydney, writhing with rage under the bindings.

"I captured one dragon, and now I have two! Your creature will join the first under the smelters of Karaz Ragni, making arms and armor for mine kin!"

Althalos spoke two words, sending a ravenous blast of magic against the dwarf. A few runes lit up, deflecting the magic.

"Coward! Magic is the tool of tricksters and lowly magicians!"

He lowered his head like an enraged moose, and charged. Althalos had barely enough time to get out of the way before Ironfist batted Vrolmgang aside, cutting a deep gouge in Althalos' already battered armor. Sydney howled in frustration and tore at her bindings. One of the ropes snapped, and she reared up, breaking most of the restraints. With a vindictive roar, she grabbed Ironfist in one claw, and threw him. The dwarf cracked against the wall with shattering force, chipping the stone blocks and spattering blood over the walls. She leapt against the smelter, smashing into it with all her weight. The massive pot shifted. She repeated the process as Ironfist began to moan and pick himself up. The pot's fastenings broke on the final try, and with a hissing roar of superheated air, a hundred gallons of molten iron poured out of the forge, immolating the dwarves' bodies and melting the wall into molten slag. Metal poured out into the battle, cooking soldiers alive and melting armor and weapons into black sludge. Althalos watched as a massive grey dragon pulled itself up from the smelter's underside. As Althalos looked closer, he saw the dragon was not grey, but the shade of beaten iron. His scales grew cherry red as they progressed to the tip, which was white. He realized it was all the shades of heated metal.

_Ah. Thank you._ he said, pulling a length of tubing attached to a mask from his mouth. 

_They sought to use me to heat their forge, I believe._ said Vaul, gesturing toward Ironfist, who was now on his knees, blood dripping from his armor.

Sydney stepped away from the dwarf, letting Vaul come forward as Althalos watched from her side. Ironfist held up his hands.

"Eh, creature. I invoke the right of parley. Now you can't hurt me. I _surrender_. See, you're the honorable type, if I've guessed right. Take me to the attacking army's leader." 

Vaul snarled in contempt. _I begged to you for weeks on end, pleading for release. But all you did was increase the dosages of those vile concoctions, making me heat your forges. No. You do not know the meaning of the word "surrender", cretin. You will die here. Now. By my hand._

Althalos wondered if he should intervene when Sydney shook her head impeceptibly, pleading with him not to. He nodded. Vaul righted the smelter, shaking it to accumulate enough molten ore to coat the bottom of the pot. He picked Ironfist up in one talon, and cast the dwarf into the smelter with a flick of his wirst. Ironfist screamed once, then went silent.

Althalos picked up Vrolmgang from the floor and dusted it off, looking at the scene of destruction in the forge. The two dragons had torched most of the wood in the room. Dwarven bodies littered the ground. The smelter was upright in a corner, filling the forge with the stench of cooking dwarf. One wall was entirely gone, the second melted by the immense heat. Vaul looked around the carnage with something approaching respect. He glanced over Sydney's wounds, telling Althalos which would need to be healed first when they returned to Mourngard. Most troubling were the slashes in her belly and chest where the ropes and grappels had sliced into her scales, then flesh. She licked the wounds with an air of sucess. Althalos scratched her neck, and she hummed. 

_We've freed another, little one. Only three more, and Jakob Vernier himself will be vulnerable._

Vaul nodded. _Yes. I thank you now and forever for your assistance in this. When we return to Mourngard I will personally restore your armor, Althalos.

You?

Yes. As you might have noticed, my coloring reflects my greatest interest, metalwork. It was I who forged Vrolmgang, in the time of Sigmar. I believe this happens to all dragons, eventually. Adurna is blue because of her fascination with gemstones. Baldur is green because of the plantlife around his native home in Athel Loren. Ernegr is still, to my knowledge, white, because of his former lover. I do not know why Sydney is black, I cannot think of a reason. Either way, we should be getting back to Mourngard._

Vaul spat a gobbet of molten fire into the smelter, where Ironfist's body slowly dissolved into charcoal. Sydney limped to Althalos, who clambered back onto the saddle. With a final look back, the pair of dragons took wing, distancing themselves from the keep. Aurum's soldiery cheered as they passed overhead, and Althalos allowed himself a moment of pride at their accomplishments.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

brilliant, bloody brilliant dirge. You astound yet again. Top notch work buddy. +rep


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks! This is the end of what I've written so far, but I have the entire thing planned out. When I get some free time I'll post again.

-Dirge

P.S. - By posting feedback, OXC has removed himself from the organ doner list come WWIII. For the rest of you people who feel feedback is overrated, I can offer no support. :victory:


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## Dirge Eterna

Come on, folks. If you don't write YAY or NAY, how am I supposed to decide who to kill off next?

------------------------------------------------------------------

Althalos walked down the stone steps to the forge. His armor sat on a table, being scrutinized by Vaul.

_This is pathetic._ said Vaul, his tail wavering from side to side.

"It's helped me through quite a bit."

_A bit of what? Children throwing stones? This will have to be redone._

"What?" asked Althalos.

_All of it!_

The dragon turned back to a massive stone forge with a block of silvery metal sitting in it. Vaul opened his jaws to flood the smelter with fire. Althalos peered over his dented, rusted armor. His father's helmet had a few scrapes and gouges on it, and the rest of his armor was mismatched and disheveled, all covered in chipped black paint. Vaul snorted with distaste as he looked back from the now-molten metal.

_Fortunately, your next assignment will not require your armor. Only finesse._

Althalos switched from speaking to thought, letting his mind touch Vaul's. The dragon's conciousness was utterly alien, so divorced from Sydney's familiar touch that for a moment Althalos automatically withdrew. Unlike Sydney, whose mind reminded him of flowing, harmonic music shot through with passionate loves and hates, Vaul was like a block of stone, utterly set on all issues and with gruff dislikes of almost everyone.

_You know my next task?

Yes. When I returned Aurum spoke to me of it. Erengr the White resides in Nuln, currently, in possession of Thaddius the Rich. Thaddius the Rich...Thaddius the Greedy! Either way, his wealth stems from scales harvested from Erengr's hide, as White scales are somewhat harder then most dragons._

He paused.

_Not my scales, but still. Now, he told me that you will infiltrate the city, find Thaddius, and let justice be done, preferably by Erengr himself, should circumstance allow. Then return here. Oh, and one more thing. Aurum has stationed a unit of crack troops in the city. When the need arises, speak with them to help you storm the building. They are staying at the Burning Dragon, ironically enough._

Althalos nodded. "Thank you."

Vaul snorted and returned to the forge, flicking Althalos' armor aside with a twitch of his tail. Althalos turned around and retraced his steps up from the forge, passing out the gates and into Mourngard. He walked along the dizzying walkway that ran along the edge of Aeyri Peak's tip, the fall nearly a thousand feet until the mountain slope took over. The market district was bustling with motion, as merchants, scribes, farmers, and soldiers bought and traded. Althalos purchased a meat pie and a mug of cheap beer for three copper pieces, then ate it on the curb, pausing to watch the people going by. Most had Aurum's sigil on shirts, armor, or jewelry. As he walked back, he saw Kyyl and a dozen artisans arguing over the scrollwork to be completed on the gates. He walked down the twisting steps to the Whispering Caves, and there he met Sydney.

_And?

Vaul is quite exacting in his standards. My armor will be ready for the next assignment.

Then when are we off to Nuln?

You're not. It's only a day's trip by horse, and a dragon will raise too many questions. I won't be gone long.

Why do you have to do this?_ her thoughts suddenly sounded higher, more pitiful.

_I can't start a war in the middle of Nuln...and they would kill you. The College of Engineering has more sharpshooters then all of the other cities combined!

Every time I leave, you are hurt, or stepped on, or run over, or a combination thereof. Remember Karaz Ragni? Remember House Aedail? And let's not forget the Storm of Chaos itself... more times then I can count there. It's gotten to the point where I am afraid to let you out of my sight, for the fact that I feel you will be locked in mortal combat the moment I turn away.

I'll be fine. It's only two or three days.

If you are hurt in any way, I will bind you to my back and never let you off.

I love you, too.

Then I will be sure to use chain instead of rope._

She sniffed in displeasure, and bent down to allow Althalos to scratch her neck. He touched his forehead to her snout, his eyes inches from hers.

_A few days.

Go, if you must. I'll miss you.

I'll be back as soon as I can._

Althalos realized if he did not leave then, he never would, so he turned and walked away quickly, severing the connection between himself and Sydney. She twitched as if stung by the sudden feeling of isolation, and let out a mournful keening noise that made tears well up in Althalos' eyes. He broke into a run, trying to escape the horrible sensation of being alone.

He stopped at the entrance to the great hall, panting and rubbing the tears from his face. Althalos had only cut himself from Sydney once, because of a Wizard who insisted on searching his mind for evidence of treachery before allowing him into a duke's service. It had been fine, then. Only a few minutes. The connection was dulled, but still there. But now he was alone, entirely alone, and it felt awful. He straightened, and walked into Aurum's chamber, still sniffing.

_I am sorry, but this is for the greater good._ Aurum's ancient voice filled his head.

_I know...it's been so long though. Twenty-odd years we've been together, ever since she hatched. I don't know if I can do this. Not for a day, let alone three.

You must.

I just...I can't take the feeling that she's not right there.... it makes me feel...

Alone?

Yes.

Well, Althalos, that is something that passes with time. 

I don't want it to pass.

What?

I am half-elven. She is a dragon, and we are linked at a mental level. I'll live forever, as long as someone doesn't kill me, or Sydney dies. That is the basis of it. Either one of us dies, nine times out of ten, we both do.

Fascinating. I have never read of such a bond. I will have to get my remembrancers to search the Library for writings of such works.

My assignment?

Ah, yes. As Vaul no doubt told you, Erengr the White is imprisoned in Nuln. Your job is to free him, by any means possible. I would also like you to dispose of Thaddius the Rich. He funds Jacob Vernier's war efforts, making him a perfectly innocent military target._

A man brought out a box and laid it on the table separating Aurum's golden statue and Althalos.

_Here. I know Vaul is a perfectionist, so I have had this brought up for you. It is light, but can turn most thin blades._

Althalos opened the box, revealing a long, white cloak with straps and leather belts to hold his weapons. A complex-looking glove was backed by thin iron and had a retractable knife attatched.

_It should serve you well.

Thank you....I will leave tonight. I can't bear to be away longer then I have to.

Of course. I have arranged for a stocked horse to await you in the stables below._

Althalos nodded and picked up his new things, donning the hooded robes and strapping Vrolmgang to his side, as well as a smaller sword on his back. The complex glove went on his left hand, followed by a more mundane one on his right. He nodded to the man, who smiled, and left for the stables, still thinking of how he would survive for half a week without the only family he ever had.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

more, more, I demand more!

brilliant Dirge, I am enthralled.


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## Dirge Eterna

Good! I'm writing this based mostly on my own ideas stitched over the Warhammer world. I'm actually growing quite attatched to some of the characters, so there may be more to come after _Oathbreaker_, if I get another idea.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The gates of Nuln were impressive, to say the least. Rising six stories and covered in engravings of machines, engineers, and diagrams, they shone like a beacon. Althalos' white cloak hung heavily on him, the multitude of blades covered by his gear, since he had left his horse at the stables outside the city. Two guards with pikes eyed him.

"What's your buisness in Nuln?" one asked.

"Spice trader." replied Althalos, taking an odd accent he often heard in the far east. He opened a bag on his belt, exposing a pile of white powder. "Sea salts from the Gold Coast."

The second guard sucked on his finger, then stuffed his hand into the bag, licking the powder from his finger. Althalos' lips curled in distaste, but he stayed still as the guard nodded. 

"Good. Alright with me. Earl?"

The second guard nodded, and Althalos entered Nuln.

A half-hour of wandering the city streets later, he found the Burning Dragon Inn, just inside the western gatehouses of the city. He sat at the bar for a time, looking around. The inn's food was mediocre, but their beer was excellent. After a time, ten men garbed in long white robes similar to Althalos' entered the pub, talking in quiet voices. Their leader was a tall, imposing figure, wearing a long, black cloak. His face was hidden behind a black scarf and fogged goggles. Blades hung from his lean form like leaves on a tree. He sat opposite Althalos at the table, his comrades taking positions around the room, except one that stood behind and next to the black-robed man.

"So you're the one they call Drakonire, "One with Dragons."

Althalos nodded warily. "That's me."

The man seemed satisfied. He produced a golden dragon charm, with ruby eyes. Althalos relaxed a fraction. He offered a gloved hand. Althalos noticed his gloves, while similar to his own, had long talons affixed to the ends, giving him a sinister, insectile appearence.

"Lukas of the Shadowlight Clan, Master Assassin of Aeyri Peaks and the lands Araby."

Althalos accepted the handshake. "Althalos Half-Elven, Son of None, bonded to Sydney Darkscales and warrior of Aeyri Peak."

Lukas nodded, and one of his assassins handed him a mug of ale. The assassin unwound the cloth from his face just enough so he could drink.

"We have located Thaddius the Rich, in the market quarter. He has a mansion in the same district."

Althalos straightened. "Then gather your men."

"Not so fast, Drakonire. Assassination is a quiet, slow buisness. We will stirke at ten-bell tomorrow, when Thaddius retires to his private study. Then you will free Erengr and my men will deal with Thaddius."

Althalos cursed the man for his patience, and for the added delay. But he accepted the terms. The plan made sense. As the night wore on, Althalos came to enjoy the assassins' company. Many had been to far flung lands, and told fabulous tales of deciet and cloak-and-dagger that made Althalos' own life seem positively boring in comparison. Lukas himself told a grand tale of his voyage from Araby to the Empire, filled with pirate raiders and sea serpents. The group decided to sleep through the day, to better strike at night.

It turned out that the assassins had been in Nuln for a week already, and had two rooms rented at the Burning Dragon. They refused to use the beds, instead sleeping in the closet, under the beds, on the rafters, and in wire hammocks slung from the rafters. Not to be undone, Althalos slept atop the thickest rafter, near the doors, perpendicular to Lukas, sleeping in one of the hammocks.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Sydney flew over Aeyri Peak, saddened and bored by the sudden loss of Althalos' familiar mind. She flew over the sticks-stone-loud-houses of Mourngard, the huge Thornhold keep, and then let the air from her wings, falling thousands of feet down, the mountains spiralling beneath her.

She leveled out a hundred feet from the fields, dwarves and humans harvesting wheat and hops. They waved as she passed. Sydney rose over the pastures for the cows-she-must-not-eat, and the long, thin stripe of the river that fed Mourngard's mills. 

She thought for a time, of Althalos, of the other dragons, of Aurum. The world seemed somewhat greyer and less full now that Althalos was not _right there_ like he always was. Ever since she was a hatchling, even before, he was there. She knew him better then she knew herself, and Sydney knew Althalos thought the same thing about her. They said that dragons' emotions were much stronger then those of younger races, on account of their extraordinarily long lives, much like elves, and Sydney knew it was true.

She raised her head out of habit, looking back to make eye contact with an imaginary Althalos. A line of fire shot from her nostrils as she sniffed in isolation at his absence. She decided to let her mind wander as far as it could, hoping to sense him the moment he returned.

------------------------------------------------------------------

At nine o'clock that night, the assassins silently woke and flitted out the windows and up the chimneys, ghostlike. They regrouped on the roof. Althalos was amazed at their balance and strength. As a half-elven, he was more then capable of such feats, but the assassins were human. Lukas led them over Nuln's rooftops, his black robes making him look like a huge bird of prey. The journey to the market district took little over thirty minutes, with Lukas stopping twice to avoid archers posted on rooftops.

They finally reached the mansion, and Lukas held up a closed fist. The other assassins stopped instantly, Althalos bumping into the last one. Lukas shot around, hands flying to weapons at the noise. He gave an exasperated shrug and motioned for two of the assassins to remove a grating over the chimney. The men disappeared inside, followed by Althalos. Lukas went last, pulling the grate closed behind him. The group spread out into the room they found themselves in, the two assassins cleaning blood from their glove knives. The three dead guards left little to the imagination. The bodies were stuffed into a closet and the party continued on their course. Lukas stopped above a second grate, this one set into the floor of the great hall as his assassins cleaned up more bodies.

"This should lead to the treasury." he whispered, his voice only audible to Althalos and his men.

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then it leads to the basement."

"Good odds."

"The best."

Althalos nodded and leapt down the shaft, feeling his body accelerate as he fell. The grate closed before he had gone ten feet, and he landed thirty feet below, rolling to lessen the impact. He sat up in a pile of hard-edged bags.

_Gold._ he thought.

He began to look around, his night vision perfect in the low light. His sight carried him to a stout door in the basement's foundation.

_Hello?_ he spread out his conciousness, looking for Erengr.

A massive weight forced him back, his mental barriers automatically going up in the face of such an onslaught. They shattered, and another touched Althalos' mind.

_You've come. Thaddius said you would. He has many guards upstairs.

Erengr?

You know my name?

Yes. I am here to free you. Aurum sent me.

Aurum...Aurum! I knew he would send help! Thaddius said you were coming to kill him, but free me...yes! It makes sense! Quickly! The keys are on a ring a meter to the left of this door._

Althalos located the ring easily enough, and after some trouble isolating the correct key, opened the door. Erengr sat on a pile of burnt bones. The dragon had a few patches on his hide that were bloody, obviously where Thaddius had his servants cut away the scales for sale as armor or cloaks.

_Ah. Thank you. Now my hide will remain mine alone. Now can we quit this place?

Of course. I have to make sure Thaddius is dead first. Can you fly? And how will you get out?

Child, how do you think I got in?_

He pointed his snout upwards. A large grate separated the dungeon from the outside of Nuln. The dragon extended his wings, rubbing the feeling back into them. Erengr shot upwards, releasing a plume of fire to weaken the grate, followed by his own weight as he smashed into it. The grate burst open, and Erengr fled west, toward Aeyri Peak.

_I will wait two miles to the west. Meet me there._

A picture of a clearing in the forest passed through Althalos' mind. He nodded an affirmation and climbed the stairs to the main hall. The scene was one of chaos. Lukas and his assassins had cut their way through the household, leaving guards, servants, and occupants dead where they had fallen. Several of the assassins were holding bags filled to the brim with gold and other treasures, and something told Althalos that Thaddius' riches would soon be swelling the Whispering Caves. Lukas had Thaddius by the scruff of his robes, his black cloak dark with blood.

"Please, have mercy! I've done nothing wrong!" Thaddius squealed, as another of his guards' body was thrown from the upper floors somewhere, cracking against the tile floor.

Althalos removed a piece of parchment he had found in Erengr's room from his robes.

"Nothing wrong?" he said, showing the note to Thaddius.

_Note to scale harvesting staff: Do not remove more then three square feet at a time, it will cause the wounds to become susceptible to infection. Any loss of profit due to this will be taken from the wages of the offending staff member._

Thaddius shook with fear. "I-I didn't know anything about that. I swear! Please! I don't want to die!"

Lukas' grip never wavered. His left glove came up to Thaddius' chin, the fat mechant's chins wobbling just above the non-extended blade concealed in Lukas' glove. The assassin looked at Althalos, his expression impossible to read past those goggles.

Althalos looked at Thaddius, his crimes plainly visible. The merchant struggled and wailed as more of his household servants and guard rained from the upper floors. An assassin in gore-smeared robes, none of it his, leaned over the rail and nodded to Lukas. "

"Nobody left alive." he said. Lukas nodded and returned his stare to Althalos.

Althalos thought of the horrible cuts in Erengr's sides, and nodded.

A sickening _shunk_ filled the room as Lukas' concealed blade cut through skin, bone, and brain to burst from the top of Thaddius' head. Lukas shook his hand, letting the merchant fall to the floor to spread a pool of blood around his ruptured skull. The assassin wiped the blood from his blades with slow and careful precision.

Althalos nudged the merchant's corpse once to make sure he was dead, and nodded to Lukas, who made an odd birdcall-like noise. The other assassins instantly broke off from looting the mansion to jump and climb down from balconies and out of upstairs rooms. The group sprang out of the front doors, Althalos close behind. He noticed the assassins had been in the grounds too, piles of dead guards heaped around the house. He wondered how the assassins became so proficient in deathdealing.

Lukas pulled an arcane-looking device from his side and threw it into the house. It exploded with a throaty roar, instantly consuming the house in fire and ash.

Althalos hid his face as the fire raged from both ends of the mansion, burning the bodies of those killed. The investigation would be short. Thaddius and his household were killed in an accidental fire. The assassins were never there.

They scaled the walls, dodging archers and patrols, and Lukas threw a rope ladder over the side. The assassins climber down the thirty foot ladder, then fell another thirty to land outside Nuln. They patted each other on the back, and wiped blood from their robes. The group ran two miles at a breakneck pace as the alarm in Nuln began to grow. Bells began to ring as the city tried to extinguish the conflagration Lukas had started. The assassins stopped outside the stand of trees concealing Erengr. 

"Thank you, Drakonire. Know that if you ever seek shelter in Araby, you will be recieved among the Shadowlight Clan." said Lukas. The other assassins nodded.

"Thank you, Lukas. I do not believe this would have gone so smoothly without yourself and your men."

Lukas shook his head. "I think you would have figured it out, Drakonire. Now, we must return to the wilds, to wait for instructions from Aurum once more. May the Shadows conceal you, Althalos Half-Elven."

And with that, the assassins scattered, as if they had never existed. Within a minute Althalos could no longer pick them out from the landscape, even with his excellent night vision.

Erengr picked his way through the trees, the wounds in his side now licked clean. Althalos noticed layers of clear scales already beginning to turn white as the dragon healed.

_Will you be able to fly all the way to the Thornhold?

Child, I could fly to Naggaroth now. I am free!_

Althalos smiled. Erengr allowed him to climb onto his back, and the pair took off, flying back to Aeyri Peak. Althalos extended his mind in all directions, hoping to touch Sydney's as soon as he possibly could.

Within a half-day, the Thornhold came into view, and Sydney flew faster then Althalos thought possible to meet them, slipping past Erengr to allow Althalos to jump from his back to hers, scratching her neck like she loved, and each sharing stories and telling each other to _never ever_ leave again.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

haha, brilliant. Heart-warming ending Dirge. Bloody good story too. I too am becoming attached to the characters, and I'm only reading it


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## Dirge Eterna

OXC, it makes me happy that you take the time to give some feedback. Either YA RLY or GD NO are both fine, as long as you post.

As for the rest of you, I'm trying to invent a way to concrete people to the ceiling upside-down, so their heads explode. I need some clinical trials first, but I'm hoping I can slick it past the FDA as a back-pain relief.
------------------------------------------------------------

Sydney was as close to Althalos as she possibly could be, nudging him in the back each time she breathed in. Althalos himself was standing in the white assassin's cloak he had used in Nuln, it's assembly of blades hanging off his form. 

Aurum broke the silence of the Thornhold as the pair entered the grand hall.

_It is good to hear Lukas has earned his keep once again.

Is he really from Araby?

Yes, young one. He keeps his entire body covered because the cold and humidity here bother him. His people are from scorched, dry deserts. Being in the mountains does not bode well for him. His apprentices are less affected, but they have no love of Aeyri's climate.

That explains the goggles, then. You said my next assignment was ready?

Will be ready, child. Your next target is Aeanas of Athel Loren, who holds Corvus the Black hostage, presumably as a battery for mighty spells. I would assume his proficiency in magic has left his mortal weapon skills diminished. Try your hand at bladework alone for this one, Althalos. I believe he will be more then a match for you in the Winds._ 

Althalos nodded. A loud cracking noise of scales against stone told him Vaul had moved close behind him.

The fiery dragon's hide shone with more white and red then before, the metal-colored part of his scales having retreated to the barest fringe of the scales. 

_As Aurum no doubt told you, I am a near-perfectionist in metalwork. I refuse to work with substandard ore or assistants, but I am pleased to say that I am satisfied with Kyyl and his men. Behold, Drakonire._

The dragon dropped a velvet-wrapped package from his mouth, letting the felt unravel. Inside was a suit of armor. Althalos gazed in wonder at the mail, wondering how the dragon could have forged it so well. The armor was the exact shade of Sydney's scales, even the grey edges where her scales grew thinner and more translucent.

_He had me sit for an hour to get the color right._ said Sydney, her snout over Althalos' shoulder as she looked at the suit. The graves, bracers, and shoulderpads were wrought to resemble dragons' bones, while the chestplate was formed in the shape of a dragon skull, the long nose overlapping the codpiece and ending in a chainmail tabard. It was jointed so Althalos could fight from dragonback effectively. The helmet was what captured his attention, however.

As large as his old helmet, and twice as menacing, it was the same black as the rest of the armor, but had a silver cross emblazoned over the visor, ending at the base of the helmet and the tip of a crown of blades that rose above it. In a ring of golden wire on the helm's forehead, Vaul had engraved a perfect replica of Sydney, taking flight above the Thornhold. Around the engraving was a second ring, this one only half-filled with four runes.

_Gem, tree, metal, sorrow._ Althalos noted. Vaul's eyes twinkled.

_Adurna, Baldur, myself, and Erengr. I will add runes as you free the other two._

Althalos pulled the armor from the cloth, laying it as he always had in the order he put it on. One last item remained in the sack. Althalos reached in and removed a long piece of some kind of metal. Only as he looked closer did he realize that the small shapes were individual plates, each carved to resemble a feather. Only at very close inspection did one realize they were armor, not decoration.

He turned the cloak over in his hands, noticing the lightness of the material. Vaul cocked his head.

_I have imbued this armor with spells of warding and of protection. As long as it remains yours, it will not rust, or crack. However, I am unable to protect you from wounds of the flesh, so be careful with what this armor does NOT cover. Understand?

Of course...thank you, both. This is a kingly gift.

I would have made it anyways, Drakonire. The long weeks beneath Karaz Ragni have made me immensely bored, and this is a good project._

Sydney sniffed. _Bah! He crafted this with a healthy combination of ignorance and ambition. Half the time he asked he how large you were, and how much you weighed, and then I had to stand still while Kyyl and his artisans etched that onto the helm._ 

Vaul snorted as he laughed, sending a plume of fire and molten metal onto the floor. He straightened and swept the metal back into his talons, nodded and walking back to the forge, leaving a trail of cooling metal droplets and scorch marks.

Aurum returned his attention to the pair.

_Will this suffice?

Of course...this is amazing. I've never seen such craftsmenship.

Vaul has always been different. That he made this so well indicates a measure of respect for you, both of you.

I am profoundly grateful.

As am I. Althalos may be a bumbling fool at times, but at least he'll be able to take a knock or two now.

Excellent. Then we will see you off to Athel Loren within the week?

Of course._

Aurum withdrew, his statue dulling and growing dimmer. Sydney allowed him to strap the armor's pack onto her saddlebags, and the pair walked back to the Whispering Caves, each speaking of possible futures beyond Aeyri Peak.

_There are dragons in Araby._ said Althalos.

_Too dry. The browns come from that land, but blacks are more suited to colder climates. I know that Aeyri Peak itself is quite enjoyable to me, as well as the time we spent in the lands north of the spine-in-the-earth.

How about Brettonia? They have lots of calvary, and the reds and greens go there to roost.

The reds are tempermental at best and the greens are somewhat haughty. Baldur is somewhat of a diplomat compared to his race.

Are you being picky, now?

No...well, yes. Mostly out of custom. It is...odd...for a dragon to mate with one not of her or his hide's color. It's happened before, however. I have not ruled out the possibility. If there's one thing you've taught me, it's that strange things are often the most interesting.

I thought YOU taught ME that._

She laughed, deep in her throat, as the two continued to the Whispering Caves. Once they had finished stowing all of the newer gear, including a few new tacklines for Sydney's saddle, they spent the majority of the daylight remaining exploring the mountains surrounding Aeyri Peak, Sydney having flown with Baldur and Adurna while Althalos played cloak-and-dagger in Nuln. She told him how each of the peaks was named, and how they could move and shift with time.

As night fell, the sky lit up in fabulous colors, streaks of green, yellow, red, and blue shining down on the Thornhold, making the white marble swim with shapes and patterns visible from Sydney's roost in the Caves. While she tried to remain awake for a time, keeping up with Althalos' time lag from the different times in Nuln, she soon fell asleep, breathing slow and even. Althalos moved back and forth against the floor as she inhaled and exhaled, watching the lights.

_Someday._ he thought.

_Someday, this will all be over._

As he too fell asleep, a dozen miles to the south, an human scout with a green-blue insignia on his armor pulled a mirror from his robes.

"They're back. Thaddius didn't even slow them down. Aeyri is now on search-and-destroy. Orders?"

A voice spoke through the mirror, sinister and dark.

"Gather the troops. We attack at dawn."


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

Ooh, suspense . Goddamnit Dirge, why are you so good!


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## thomas2

I'm still reading this, still trying to remember who's who and what happened earlier in it, all but the first being my fault not yours.

Great work Dirge, this is probably my favourite of your stories so far.


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## Dirge Eterna

Funnily enough, this is the only one I came up with an idea for AFTER I started writing. For the first three posts this was a stall.

Oh, and thomas2 is now alongside OXC on the do-not-obliterate list.
----------------------------------------------------------

"Sail ho!" screamed the man. He waved a bright red flag over the battlements of Aeyri Peak.

Kyyl rushed to the parapet, looking with a brass spyglass at the armada.

Three dozen wooden ships floated on white sails extending from their sides. Steam turbines powered the craft forward. Ballistae and cannons populated the decks, along with ratings and crewmen with teal insignia on their armor. A single brightly colored Wizard sat on the most ornate ship, almost three times as large as the rest. The word _Endeavour_ was painted on the ship's bow.

Althalos was finishing a quick breakfast before his departure to Athel Loren when one of the guards burst in, telling him of the attack. Althalos had long been paranoid, so he had armored himself and Sydney before eating.

This undoubtably saved her life. A cannonball blew through the side of the Whispering Caves, bursting through a stone wall to rebound off the thick dragon armor. Sydney howled in rage and leapt to the battlement, Althalos close behind. Vrolmgang was in his hand before he realized he had drawn it, slicing the first man in half as he leapt from a skyboat. Sydney breathed a plume of fire, engulfing the left side of the vessel in flames. The sailors desperately tried to extinguish the fire, but the airship lost height steadily, until it crashed into Aeyri's side.

A dozen men leapt from another ship, overrunning the defenders to Althalos' left.

_Time to go.

I agree. Get on._

Althalos leapt onto Sydney's back, Vrolmgang slashing the first foolhardy attacker to come within arm's reach. She leapt into space, like they had done so many days ago. Her wings tight against her body, she leanded squarely on the deck of a ship. Sailors and soldiers milled around, screaming and grabbing weapons. Sydney breathed another gout of liquid flames, torching the crew and setting the ship ablaze. 

The ship next to theirs' exploded in a torrential rain of splintered wood and liquid metal. Vaul swung out of the clouds, the other dragons close behind.

_Foes! Foes to thrash!_ thought Vaul, his mind lit up in savage glee.

The _Endeavour_ was side-on to the Thornhold, pounding it with cannon. Adurna swept along the ship, lighting it ablaze, but the fires died as soon as they touched the side. A deck gun fired a fist-sized ball into her side. She yelped, more in shock then pain, and fell to the ground in Mourngard's market square, still fighting the soldiers. Mourngard itself was ablaze, the fires moving toward the Thornhold.

Althalos swung to the side, beheading an officer as he wildly flailed with a golden rapier. Baldur and Erengr tore the bottom from the ship, and Sydney dove off the top, pushing the ship down. A flight of dwarven gyrocopters flashed by, cannon and steam guns firing. Sydney tilted almost ninty degrees, swinging sideways to shred the sides of yet another skyship. Almost a dozen were in flames, or already burning on the sides of the mountain. Aeyri Peak's gunners were beginning to turn the tide against the _Endeavour_, point-blank cannon fire taking the sides of the ship apart.

_You idiots!_ shrieked a voice into Althalos' head. He flinched at the sudden noise, Sydney moving to keep him from falling.

A second flight of ships, these golden and with elves manning Repeater throwers and proud soldiery swung out from behind Althalos' view, with a single elf leading them.

_On a dragon._

The elf was garbed like a king, with pale streamers flapping behind him. A staff was held in front of him, which channeled lightning into Aeyri's defenders. 

The dragon was a deep black, daubed with gold streaks along it's back. The elf held a hand over it's head as it flew, it's eyes glassy and half-closed.

_Magic, like Adurna.

Unlikely as to be so easily broken. Remember Aeanas is suppposed to be much better in magic.

Good of him to come to us, though.

Yes, little one, but try not to die, please. I would never get this saddle off by myself._

Althalos grinned and hefted Vrolmgang, following Haze's movements in the blade.

Their path took them over the dragon and it's rider, lightning still flickering from his fingertips. Althalos leaned almost perpendicular to Sydney, letting the sword carve a bloody line in the elf's flesh. The mage yelled and swung the staff, knocking Althalos off into space.

He closed his eyes, sure he was going to die, and might as well not know when.

Althalos smashed into the _Endeavour_'s main deck, crushing two swordsmen beneath his weight. He slowly got up, testing his limbs for injuries. Satisfied his only wounds were survivable, he swung Vrolmgang in a complex flourish, loosening his sword arm. He picked a second sword from one of the bodies, testing the weight.

A group of men, snapping out of their shock at this sudden new enemy, charged, swinging pikes and polearms. Althalos swept past them, cutting each in the legs or chest, trying to get past them more then kill. The last he swept the arms from and pushed over the side, the man screaming as he fell. The Wizard he had seen earlier smashed open the captain's cabin doors, yelling in rage.

"Imbeciles! It's a fort, a fort! And you still can't HIT IT!" he roared. He stopped his rant as he spotted Althalos. He drew a white sword. 

"Ah, youngling. What are you, sixteen? Seventeen? You'll not live to see another year, regardless. To arms!"

He swung the sword, Vrolmgang coming up to deflect it. The other sword Althalos had taken from the soldier slit into the Wizard's side, opening a gash.

"Damnation!" he screamed, the white sword flashing even faster.

Althalos ducked and lunged forward, throwing the man against the side of the ship. The Wizard rolled over him, slashing at his back. Althalos yelped and slid Vrolmgang against the wizard's sword grip, slicing three of his fingers off. The white sword fell from his grip, spinning downwards to land in the dust of Mourngard's ruins.

A black shape as swift as a stormcrow and thrice as large landed on the ship, slicing six men into ribbons. Three knives suddenly appeared in the Wizard's chest, felling the man. Lukas stopped his slaughter long enough to lunge forward and grab the Wizard by the front of his robes.

"Well met, Drakonire." said the Assassin, wiping his knives on the Wizard's white robes. 

Althalos nodded and tossed away the lesser sword, keeping Vrolmgang ready.

"Who are you to attack the Peaks Aeyri?" said Lukas, a long, curved, blade against the Wizard's throat.

"I am Talmien of the Jade Temple at Telthis, creature. I know not what you are, but you will die, all of you will die!" he shrieked, shaking with violence.

"Well, then, Talmien of the Jade, do you fear death?" said Lukas, sliding the blade back and forth, drawing thin lines of blood.

"Wait!" said Althalos, suddenly remembering something Aurum had said long before, when Sydney had recounted her tale when he returned from Nuln. He shouldered past the masked Assassin, grabbing a fistful of Talmien's robes.

"Where is Mirror?" he asked, taking the knife from Lukas. The Assassin cocked his head in confusion. Talmien's expression changed from indignation to terror.

"You're...you're that creature she's had locked away, aren't you? She speaks of you sometime...she says she'll use it to kill me, and here you are!"

"Where!? Give me a place!" yelled Althalos, drawing the knife back to stab the Wizard in the neck.

"Below...below the deck. I was using her energy to power the _Endeavour_.. it's too big to stay aloft on steam. But please! There are many men on board, non combatants!"

Althalos looked at the holes in Aeyri Peak, and then at Lukas. He handed the knife back to the Assassin, and nodded. 

"Not all soldiers wear uniforms, my friend, and not all soldiers are fighters."

He dropped the Wizard and walked to the doors to belowdecks. A sharp cry told him Lukas had ended the man's life. A series of further noises told him that the man had re-engaged the soldiers remaining on deck.

He dropped low once he was below the deck, looking for the dragon. He passed massive holes where the Thornhold's guns had battered at the ship. A clawing, scratching noise sounded behind him. He kicked the door down, sweeping inside with Vrolmgang ahead of his body. A soldier swept a blade up. Althalos easily sidestepped the attack and slit the man from shoulder to waist. Mirror stood in the room, stooping low to avoid having her head scrape the ceiling.

_Distasteful creatures, aren't they?

Are you Mirror?

The one and only, sweetheart. Now, can we leave? I've stopped giving magic to this contraption, it'll fall within the minute._

Althalos' eyes widened he sent a frantic thought the Lukas, then jumped onto Mirror, the silver dragon shouldering an exit in the ship's hull and opening her wings. Sydney flashed past, her flanks bloody where the elven lord had cut her. Lines of gore and streaks of blood covered her face and claws, giving her a raw, wet look. Althalos leapt from Mirror to Sydney, and she pulled up, flying vertically up the side of the keep.

Lukas ran as fastas Althalos had ever seen a human run, and flung himself off the _Endeavour_'s side, falling in a cruciform shape to land three hundred feet below on a small elven ship. The Assassin grabbed at the rigging, slowing himself, before rolling to arrest his momentum. Elves began to die as blades appeared in his hands.

The _Endeavour_ tilted hard to port, men screaming and falling out of the holes in her sides. The ship began to list farther and farther until the tilt became an uncontrolled downward spiral. The massive skyboat smashed into Mourngard's great hall and exploded, sending wooden splinters and metal fragments hundreds of feet. A metal object smashed into Althalos' helm, making stars explode in his eyes. He pulled the object from the sizable dent to discover it was a doorknob with the Jade Temple's insignia.

He flung the piece to the side and laid against Sydney's back, letting her come up beneath the elf to slash and tear at the lord's equipment. The saddle straps holding him to his dragon came away, and he began to fall.

He gestured and wings of fire burst from his back. He let a shriek of hatred escape him, and he swept toward them, his staff flailing. Althalos held up Vrolmgang, letting the lord's mad charge glance off the ancient sword. The elf swept around, letting his hand away from the dragon's head for just an instant.

It was all the dragon needed.

Folding it's wings, the black dragon plummeted more then six hundred feet before leveling out to immolate a skyship's crew as they struggled in the wreck of their vessel.

The elf screamed as his connection to the dragon's magic was severed. The spells he was using immediately sucked the energy from his body, leaving him a withered, blackened skeleton. Sydney let a plume of flames torch what little was left, and a handful of ashes followed a golden staff to the mountainside.

The elves screamed in despair as they felt their leader's demise. The few skyboats still aloft turned and made all speed toward Athel Loren. The last three human ships fired a last, vengeful volley into the Thornhold and fled, hounded by Vaul and Baldur. One caught fire as the dragons reached it, sending it to the mountainside. The last two made it over the next peak, and then over the horizon.

A monumental cheer rose from the Thornhold as the ships vanished in retreat. Aeyri Peak's soldiery stood up from cover and embankments, shaking swords and axes and cursing the wastrel attackers for their cowardly retreat. Kyyl lifted a huge, two-handed axe, yelling in the dwarves' tongue.

Sydney landed on the battlements of the Thornhold, to immediately be fussed over by a group of healers. Mirror and the black dragon landed on the parapet, their talons scratching the chipped stone.

Althalos stepped down from Sydney's foreleg, immediately feeling terrible as she winced from the cuts on the limb. He sheathed Vrolmgang and began to heal the worst of her injuries.

_I know that you are Mirror the Silver, but whom are you, Darkscales?

I am known in this tongue as Corvus, the Black. I once lived deep in the Northern Wastes, in the caves of ice and snow. The Storm caught me in the south, where I was captured by that cretin.

Well, in that case, it appears our quest is singularly completed. All that remains now in Jacob Vernier himself.

At Telthis?

Yes. We were given the task of freeing six dragons that were captured or ensorcled during the Storm of Chaos. You and Mirror were the last.

Hm. An interesting tale you weave, Althalos Drakonire.

You know my name.

Your bonded, Sydney, told me as she fought Aeanas. She is quite....unique.

Unique?

Yes... she is different then all the Drakon I have met. I do not know how, but there is something I feel about her._

Althalos turned to walk down the steps to Aurum's chambers, leaving the dragons to recount their tales to each other. Kyyl, Lukas, and a dozen warriors waited at the doors. 

"Drakonire." said Lukas, nodding a greeting. Althalos noted his robes were now a shade of deep black-red, and the majority of his weapons were missing or notched beyond repair. 

"Shadowlight." said Althalos in reply, offering his hand. Lukas' complex glove came up to grip his wrist in a warrior's handshake. The two men seperated, and Lukas stepped aside to allow Althalos entry into the Great Hall. Aurum was without a scratch, two dozen men in tall black armor around the statue, each holding a huge axe or mace, all looking to leap into horrible violence at the slightest provocation.

Aurum was radiant. His eyes were the brightest red Althalos could recall, practically blinding him with their brilliance.

_My hatchling. You have exceeded my wildest imaginings. Now at last Jacob Vernier himself is vulnerable, in his city of Telthis, high in the eastern mountains, near the old dwarf empire.

Thank you. I doubt we would ever have grown so close without this to bring us together.

Do not thank me, youngling. It is a product of time, and emotion.

Speaking of emotion, Corvus seems...odd.

He is a black, and Sydney is a black. Such things come naturally, hatchling, and should not be disturbed. If Sydney returns his charms, let her.

I'm afraid of.. losing her.

You won't. It has happened to many Drakonire over the years. The dragons both become attuned to the opposite dragon's mind, but the original bond between dragon and Drakonire remains as strong if not stronger.

That comforts me, elder.

Now then, return to the Whispering Caves with the dragons. The march to Telthis will begin as soon as Mourngard's people are safe and secure again._

Althalos nodded and left for the Caves, his exhaustion and fear calmed by the knowledge that Telthis, and his destiny, were close.

After a time Sydney and Corvus returned. Sydney touched her snout to the wounds on Corvus' flank where she had cut the saddlestraps from him, and they parted with a small burst of fire between them. She leapt up to the cave, taking her customary place next to the wall where her scales had rubbed the ground until it was powdery and soft. Too tired to even ask her about Corvus, Althalos fell asleep against her side again, his dreams thick with images of standing triumphant above the ruins of Telthis, Jacob Vernier's body beneath his boot and Vrolmgang in his hand.

Sydney snorted once, then fell asleep, still thinking of how beautiful Corvus' scales looked in the lights flickering from the burning skyship wrecks.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

You astound again Dirge, this is brilliant stuff. You are no doubt a very talented writer.


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## Dirge Eterna

Update tomorrow, folks, when I get back from the FSB. Not much doing here, as I predicted. Supply runs and the occasional bombing of some godforsaken hole-in-the-ground someone with more stars then sense thinks terrorists hide in.

But don't tell them I said that. The higher-ups think it's insubordination to use the phrase "More stars then sense"....
-Dirge


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

Haha, I know what you mean (I am non-military, but I've heard it all before )


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## Dirge Eterna

Well, tomorrow plus a day. There's work needs doing!

-----------------------------------------------------

Althalos strapped the greaves to his legs, followed by the curaiss and pauldrons. Bracers, then gauntlets went onto his arms, followed by the winged helm with the six icons engraved on the brow. He belted Vrolmgang to his side, followed by the long halberd he had taken from the elves so long ago. Sydney, also in full dragon armor, growled in approval. Kyyl followed her in, holding a cloth sack.

The dwarven engineer chuckled in amusement. 

"Well, laddie. That suit Vaul made you works?"

Althalos nodded, the dragon wings on his helmet making the motion exaggerated.

"Yes. It will do very nicely, I think."

The dwarf spread out the cloth, revealing a half dozen small items.

"I've dug around for a few things that you might find useful. First is this."

He pulled a short black blade from the pile, it's edge hidden by a leather scabbard. 

"It's a _Misericorde_, poisoned with enough toxins to drop a troll. Useful for that stubborn general or rampaging Giant."

Kyyl reached in again and retrieved a bright compass, it's surface shining with a red icon on a stick.

"This is enchanted. Simply say what you wish to find and the compass will lead you."

Althalos took the device as Kyyl retrieved another relic.

"This, laddie, is special. This is the runic charm of one of Aurum's greatest warriors. Rumour says one can deflect great shots and turn blows with it."

Althalos pulled the heavy chain over his head. Kyyl once again reached into the bag.

"This," he said, holding out a roughly circular device with a gem set into the middle, "Is a aleitheometer. It was invented by mine ancestors many generations ago. It can be used in dire circumstances to create a light comparable to the sun. Just turn the gem."

Althalos fingered the gem. It turned ever so slightly, and he made a note not to jostle it during the flight.

The dwarf turned holding a small beaker with a metal plug in it.

"This is Dragon's Tongue. It is among the most acidic compounds known to dwarves. A single drop can eat through ten men. Handy for gates and sowing terror."

Althalos carefully tied the beaker to his belt. Kyyl sighed as he removed the last item. The dwarf handed Althalos a large, golden-edged pistol with a large barrel and a second, smaller one. The large barrel had a fat revolving clip, while the smaller barrel had no means of reloading that Althalos could discern.

"This is a Drakonire's pistol, the last that lived in Aeyri. The larger trigger fires the combat pistol, which is a six-shot about sixty-five caliber. The smaller pistol..."

Kyyl trailed off. He turned to make sure Sydney was still fussing over Corvus' dragon armor.

"The smaller pistol is your way out, Drakonire. I hate to say it, but if your dragon falls in the seige, you have three options. Face a thousand angry warriors alone, fall a few thousand feet, or the quick and easy way. This is very short range, but it's a surefire one-hit kill. The bullet is enchanted with Death magic. As soon as it touches flesh, the spirit will lift free of the body."

Althalos let out a ragged breath. Kyyl looked almost apolegetic, but then Althalos nodded and tucked the weapon into his armor.

The dwarf nodded sadly and turned to leave. He looked back.

"May the gods watch over you at Telthis, Althalos Drakonire."

Althalos bit his lower lip, then removed a black scarf from his belt, tying it around his face to keep the wind from making his lips bleed. Sydney and the six others were standing at the gates, five thousand of Aeyri Peak's warriors far below, mounting horses and carts. The shouting of orders and horses' cries could be heard from the Whispering Caves.

_Little one. The steel-man-sharp-prey wishes for us to provide support until we reach Telthis, then he will release us to pursue Vernier.

Fine with me.

I expected as much, little one. Corvus and his kin have offered to carry extra supplies for the army.

Then we go?

Of course._

Althalos bounded up Sydney's forelimb, settling in the worn leather saddle. She turned her head to glance over him with one violet eye. He nodded, and she leapt into space, followed by six other dragons, all different colors blending as Althalos' vision narrowed. The armies below let out an enormous cheer, given fresh heart by the dragons' flight. An officer with a red plume in his helm raised a spear, and the armies of Aeyri Peak began the march to Telthis.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

_How long have we been flying?

A little over six hours, I believe. The sun went down but an hour ago. We had to stop for dinner, but you slept through that.

I see. Our destination.

It grows. Look to the east._

Althalos looked up from Sydney's back, gazing at the city before them.

A massive grey fortress sat like a pile of stone amid a forest of stone and wood buildings. Parts of the city were already burning, yet the city was fighting back. Dozens of ballistae and catapults flung missiles into the attackers, heaps of which lay in the blood-soaked ground. Althalos' eyes widened as he saw the symbol of the Aeyri Peaks on every banner in the attacking army. 

_It would seem we are but reinforcements.

So many! How did they all fit in Mourngard?

I would assume that they are fighters like Lukas, spread out throughout the Empire.

Perhaps. Take us down. We need to know where things stand._

Sydney snorted and spilled air from her wings, their controlled flight becoming a spiralling fall. The six others broke off, heading for the walls, fire licking from their nostrils and death on their thoughts.

The pair landed amid a dozen gold-edged tents bearing Aurum's sigil, a blood-spattered man in dented armor greeting them.

"Hello, sirs. The Draconian is ready to meet you."

Althalos cocked his head in confusion. "The who?"

"The Draconian, sirs. Loathsome half-dragon creatures that walk and speak like men. I always wondered what it would be like to be something else, y'know."

"Really?" said Althalos, edging back toward Sydney, hoping to escape the conversationalist while men were dying.

"Yessir. I wanted to be an elf when I was younger, but that might've hurt my mum, see. So then I thought I'd want to be a draconian, but when I met Raezal I figured that would have been _very_ difficult for my dear old mother, so I figured being a man was best."

Althalos bit his lip to keep him from laughing and shouldered past the man, entering the tent. He was immediately glad he had not removed the scarf covering his face, because he breathed in with his shock.

A humanoid lizard stood at a map table, a group of similar creatures around it. Curved swords and wicked knives hung from belts, while crossbows and dart throwers were strapped to backs. The creature nearest to Althalos had dented armor and gore stained his face. Althalos cringed.

"Ah, so the famed Drakonire joins us." one hissed, golden edging on his armor leaving little doubt it was in charge. 

Althalos held out an armored hand. "It's a....pleasure."

"We are the Draconians, dragon eggs given life by Wizards of the Jade Temple. The other races shunned us, except the blessed peoples of Lustria. The majority of us give our service to Aurum, as he is the protector of all Dragons."

A clawed fist the size of a small ham encased Althalos' limp grip. The draconian shook him arm before releasing him to gaze at the map.

"The situation is good, Drakonire. The western gate is hanging by a few splinters, and the south gate is already down. Troops have taken the poor districts, aided by a number of local partisans."

Althalos nodded. "And the keep?"

"I am reluctant to try our luck with the keep so early, Drakonire. The Emperor does not like Vernier. Time is on our side."

"I brought seven dragons, as well as myself."

Raezal nodded. "Very good. They will help us in the seige. Take command of the western wall. Our casualties there have been heavy, and will need support."

Althalos bowed slightly and turned. "With pleasure."

Sydney was curled up in the courtyard, having a spirited conversation with the madman guard that had rambled to Althalos.

_No, mead is better then ale. Ale is cheap and filty._

The man leaned on his chipped spear. "I am cheap and filty, great Darkscales, and I take that as a slur on me honor. Y'know, if my mother wasn't so small, I could've been a dragon. Then I might agree with you."

_Mead is for dragons, now?_

"I didn't say that."

Sydney spied Althalos coming out of the tent and snorted a smoke ring, leaving the guard coughing. She let Althalos onto her back and took off, heading to the west gate, where palls of smoke and screams drifted skyward as four of the six bobbed and weaved around the gates, tearing at it with iron claws and steel fangs. Men lay in great piles of charred dead on the walls, leaving little to the imagination. Vaul sat like a great prey bird on the gates themselves, menacing the guards rushing to repair the portal.

_Ah, Drakonir, you've come. I thought war was for mighty warriors like myself, and perhaps Sydney. You should be careful.

Do you really put so little faith in your own skills, Drake?

I do not. Only the people who need my skills._

Althalos drew Vrolmgang with a flourish. Sydney dove to the wall, and the killing began.


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## Dirge Eterna

The first was a gift. Althalos fragmented the man's skull as he poked his head over the barricades, crossbow drawn. The second ran at him, screaming. As a fifth drowned in blood, the rest fled in terror before the blood-soaked figure cutting a swath through the guards.

Althalos swung Vrolmgang left and right, the sword slicing through armor, flesh and bone. Haze warbled and chirped, splitting magic charms and runic weapons like white-hot iron through cold butter. Nothing that stood before the enraged Drakonire stood, and soon Althalos stood in a ring of dead and dying men. He looked up to the parapet, where Sydney and Vaul were immolating the last few men still fighting. With a tremendous _crack_ the gates finally snapped under Vaul's weight, falling to crush a few of Althalos' victims before a host of warriors stampeded over the breached portal, engaging the last remaining groups of Swordsmen and Pikemen on the defenders' barricade. A fat cannon coughed, and a dozen men fell with fist-sized holes punched through them. The cannon crew screamed as a unit of swordsmen fell on them.

A warrior with a fell axe and a long, braided beard approached Althalos, a group of similarly attired warriors behind him.

"I am Tyr, Runesmith of the Northlands and commander of the Western Lines. Who are you, warrior?"

Althalos' eyes, the only visable part of his face under helm and scarf, looked up, exposing the rich violet color, an exact match to Sydney's. The smith gulped.

"Drakonire, then?"

Althalos nodded, pulling Vrolmgang from a dead soldier. "Yes. I am Althalos Drakonire, the Half-Elven."

"Well, then, Drakonire, thank you for breaching the gates. It's taken many lives to get this far."

Althalos looked up. Vaul's scales were less metalwork grey, and more red-white then before. He figured the dragon's color changed on his mood. 

"Thank him." he said, indicating the scorched dragon.

Tyr nodded, the runes in his beard clinking cheerfully against each other.

"Duly noted, Drakonire. Now unless you're desperate for mine attentions, there are foes to slay!"

He yelled a warcry and charged down the main avenue, his warriors following. Sydney shouldered aside a small outbuilding and licked his face.

_Little one. How is your humor?

Sanguine. And yours?

The same. Vaul and the others demand blood and death for revenge.

Let them into the city. They'll find plenty of both, but no harming of innocents. Only combatants die today.

Of course, friend-of-my-heart._

She allowed Althalos to climb onto her back and took off, giving him a dragon's-eye view of the devastation. Razael was right, the city was mostly taken. A few fortified towers were holding out the invaders for now, but for every one that filled the area around it with gunshot and arrow, two more burned or were filled with their dead garrisons. Twice Sydney swooped down to rend platoons of archers or marksmen on rooftops, Althalos swinging the wicked polearm he had taken so long ago. Men screamed. Timbers cracked. The second time Sydney landed on a roof the house caved in, burying an unfortunate group of musketeers, and barely sparing dragon and rider. 

_The keep, then?

The keep. Grab Tyr's group, Razael's guards, and Luaks' assassins, if they're here. We'll need them all.

I'll tell Baldur to round them up._

Sydney landed in the palace courtyard, gingerly avoiding the crushed bodies of Vernier's Greatswords. It appeared some form of stonethrower had knocked the gates in, squashing the men beneath their weight. Althalos jumped off to see a group of men heaving a ram back and forth, shaking the doors, but doing little to breach them. Baldur landed a short distance away, with Adurna and Mirror close behind. Tyr's men rode Baldur and Adurna, while three of Razael's Draconians sat heavily on Mirror's back. A shout of alarm rose behind Althalos and he turned to see a dozen white shapes flip and roll like seabirds on the wing to face him, blades drawn. A single black shape flitted past the gates, heavy goggles on it's face and a thick scarf over it's mouth.

"We meet yet again, Drakonire." said Lukas, wiping gore from a notched axe he had obviously taken from a dead foe.

"Indeed. I will need you and your students to breach the gates."

Lukas walked up to the portcullis, ignoring the occasional arrow from the defenders, and knocked on the stout iron gates.

"Good make. At least a foot thick, if I'm guessing right. Not even cannon will get you through those. Put the ram down, gentlemen. This is a job for experts."

He nodded to his white-clad comrades, and the group flipped and leapt up the sides of the keep, reaching the wall in just under a minute. Archers screamed and fell to the ground, knives embedded in their throats and chests. A single Knight fell from the parapet, the notched axe protruding from his head. Lukas pointed, and a single assassin twisted a wheel to the left of the gates, sending the massive constructs swinging wide open. Tyr leapt into the gatehouse swinging, batting Swordsmen and Knights aside with his huge axe. The northerners followed their leader into the breach, maces, hammers, and axes smashing into Vernier's defenders. 

One of the northerners fell, a gaping wound in his side, and Vernier's men poured forward over Tyr and his soldiers, cleaving and slashing. The draconians snarled and counter-charged, meeting the first soldier head-on, kicking him with taloned feet. The man fell, and the draconians kept going, slashing a wide path into the keep. By now, the bodies were piled two deep in the gatehouse, making footing precarious. A Knight Errant slipped on a shield, and was cut down almost instantly. 

Sydney roared, making Althalos remember himself suddenly, throwing himself onto her back and flying over the parapet, surrounding the Knights.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

Do I even need to say anything....


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## crabpuff

I got a complaint, these chunks of story are too short. Seriously I like it.


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## Dirge Eterna

Well, I'd imagine you'd hate my others. These "chunks" I have to wait a while to make them big compared to my other fics. 

Update tonight, if possible, if not, tomorrow for sure.
-Dirge


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## crabpuff

Nah didn't hate the other chunks because i started reading this thread last week, so it was one long chunk pretty much. :wink:


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## Dirge Eterna

Sorry about the delay, guys. The move got pushed forward, and I couldn't get word out before we had to leave. Either way, we're now at a MAB at least. Concrete barracks and plenty of hot food.
----------------------------------------------------------------------

The leader of the Knights was a hulking, massively muscled man, wearing gleaming silver armor with a stainless white cloak. Althalos chuckled at the difference. Where the man was an icon of purity and non-corruption, the armor forged by Vaul was deep black, covered in arcane sigils and short spines, like those on Sydney's back. The brown cloak had faded to a gory red with blood, and wet spatters peppered his helm.

The knight strode forth, drawing a gleaming blade with a flourish. The sword was as noble as he was, three feet long and pearly grey. 

Althalos hefted Vrolmgang in one hand, the sword's tip waving as he breathed.

"You," said the Knight accusingly. "You invaded our city. Burned our holy temples. Slaughtered our men and women. This cannot go unpunished."

Althalos chucked behind the fiendish visor of his black helm.

"It would have burned either way, really. The Emperor would have grown tired of Vernier's constant games in the north."

The knight paused to consider this.

"Karl Franz knew of the games, fool. Who do you think ordered the Capture of the Dragons?"

A chill crept up Althalos' spine. Razael turned as a gore-stained runner sprinted to his side.

"Lord! Lord! Horns from the west! An army on the march!"

Razael hissed in surprise and despair. The Draconians ran from the citadel courtyard, leaving only Tyr, Lukas, and a mismatched group of assassins and Northlanders.

Sydney was circling the Knights, growling gently and snapping at the arms and legs of those that dared to near her.

The leader of the knights scoffed. "See, young fool? The Emperor will have your head on a stake! Aurum is no holy prophet! He is an Oathbreaker himself! As are you, and all these misguided idiots that dared seige Telthis!"

He walked forward slowly, allowing only a foot between himself and Althalos.

"And there is nothing any of you can do about it."

From the city's outskirts came the sound of a loud, screaming cry, followed by the immediate din of battle. A roar made the Knight look upwards, as Baldur tore a great rent in the side of the Citadel, releasing a gout of boiling fire that exited the windows and arrowslits for a hundred feet. Mirror decended on the roof, jagged lightning cracking tiles and opening holes in the slate ceiling.

Althalos took the opprotunity, removing the poisoned _Misericorde_ from his belt, and stabbing it into the Knight's chest. The man took a ragged breath, and looked down, examining the hilt of the weapon.

"A good strike, Drakonire." he said, and fell from Althalos' grip to land on his back, a pool of black blood spreading from his corpse.

The knights howled in rage and charged Tyr's men, the northerners responding by a fierce countercharge. Lukas flipped a dozen feet into the air, landing in the midst. His apprentices scattered, hurling shurikan and knives with pinpoint precision. Althalos impaled a screaming soldier as he ran toward Sydney, brandishing a fat mace. With the death of their arrogant leader, the men had lost most of their discipline, becoming easy targets. Still, it took the lives of six of Tyr's remaining men, and two of the Assassins to slay the entire group.

The gates of the Citadel blew wide open as Baldur exited the Great Hall from the inside, the stench of cooked meat and torched bone leaving little in the way of doubt.

Althalos patted the dragon's shoulder as he passed, making Baldur's green eyes flash in a dragon's smile.

_He is in his quarters, little one. He wishes to face you.

Why didn't you kill him?

It is a matter of honor. I will not kill him in cold blood, no matter my suffering at his hands._

Althalos conceded the point with a nod, and threw open the doors to Vernier's chamber. The room was opulent, covered in tapestries depicting great victories over Chaos, Vernier crushing some manner of demon or heretic. A great stone statue dominated the room, it's likeness obviously a past king of Telthis. 

A balcony extended twenty feet from the side of the Citadel to look over Telthis. Much of the city was burning, or already crumbled into smoke-blackened rubble and splintered wood. A lean, bearded man in his late forties stood with his back to Althalos, only exposing golden shoulderpads and a red cloak.

"They said one would come, eventually. One who would bring the Dragon War to Telthis. They said he would be rightous, and moral. A man of taste and passions. A great protector. I always imagined a man in the likeness of Karl Franz. A true hero. Instead, I get you. A boy, barely past his seventeenth summer, garbed like one of the Chaos Wastes themselves, and riding a black, no less! You have made a mockery of the Prophecies!"

Althalos was taken aback by the sudden tirade. "I assume you are Jakob Vernier."

"You would be correct in that assumption, my friend. For thirty-two years I have governed Telthis, never wavering in my devotion. And here, on the thiry-fifth anniversary of the Dragon Wars' beginning, I find that my city has been laid to waste. My army is defeated, Drakonire, but Karl Franz will grind yours into the dust as well. I imagine this city will be left to die, or become a stronghold in the North."

Althalos unsheathed Vrolmgang with a slick, metallic noise. Vernier looked up at the noise, still facing away from Althalos, looking over the city.

"I have no doubt Aurum told you that I am evil. That I had no right to take "his children" from him."

"He told me enough."

Vernier turned around, and for the first time, Althalos saw the terrible scars running down his face.

"Then judge me unbiased, Drakonire. See what I have seen."

His eyes flashed a blue-white, and Althalos screamed as the world went black.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He awoke to the sound of lute. 

Althalos sat up, immediately noticing his armor and weapons were gone. He felt Sydney's mind nudge his, a state of shock and immense loathing oozing from her every thought.

He looked in the direction her thoughts indicated, and stared. He blinked once, making sure he wasn't imagining things.

A young woman sat next to him on the grass, pale skin covered by a long black coat, gloves, and pants. Thick boots tipped with metal talons covered her feet, and her hair spilled over her shoulders like an ebony waterfall. The only recognizable portion of Sydney was her eyes, which remained a striking violet in color, still perfectly matching Althalos' own.

_Wha...wha...what is this!?_

Althalos got up from the ground, his mouth still hanging open.

The woman drew in a long breath, and blew out violently, making her cough.

_No fire...no scales...not even fangs or claws! Pathetic, weak, pink, fleshlings!

Calm down.

You calm down! I am not....me! I am one of you! One moment I was fighting, and the next....THIS!_

Althalos took a moment to look around, tearing himself away from Sydney's raging anger.

A small village stood to the south, smoke rising gently from the chimneys.

Syndey pulled herself up off the ground, turning as she looked at her back.

_No tail, no spines, no wings...how do you even SURVIVE like this?!_

Althalos ignored her, instead staring at the man running into the village. He bore a striking resemblance to Vernier, but looked older. Althalos assumed it was his father. A woman came to meet him, a small child in her arms. The pair hugged, and kissed with the baby between them. The man spoke a few words, then left the woman at the entrance to the town, running to the wooden keep at the town's center.

_Come on._ Althalos urged, pulling on Sydney's arm.

She thrashed around, still trying to examine every inch of her body for anything resembling a dragon.

Althalos grabbed a fistful of her coat and pulled her along, walking down the village. A guard nodded to them as they passed, eying Sydney with part amusement, part attraction. 

The pair finally reached the keep, Sydney now convinced that she was stuck for the time being, but still seething underneath a calm demeanor. She seemed immensely relieved when she noticed a large, black tattoo on her shoulder, resembling a swirling, black dragon with it's wings extended. Townspeople stared as they passed, followng Sydney as she continued to search her person for dragon-esque features. 

A few moments later, the man Althalos assumed was Vernier's father exited the Citadel, surrounded by men. He caught snatched of the conversation.

"-sure it's the one?"

"-gold one, maybe fifty feet."

"Can't believe it's so close-"

Sydney wrestled to undo her coat, trying to find the joints of her wings, before Althalos pulled her along again, following the man.

They followed the man to the walls, where men hurried to and fro, manning ballistae. A soldier in a red-on-black tunic and mail armor stopped them.

"Sorry, the road's closed. Aurum's been spotted on the Northern Ridge."

Althalos released Sydney, who now seemed obssessed with removing the jacket.

"Aurum?"

The guard took on a frustrated expression, part annoyance, part surprise.

"Aurum? Aurum?! The dragon that's kept us here for two years?! The dragon that burned thi place down twice? The Verniers have lost three this month alone!"

The man suddenly turned from Althlos, staring at Sydney. Althalos turned, to see her with most of her upper body exposed, the black coat and a few belts, as well as a vest, laying on the ground behind her. She was running her hands up and down her back, her thoughts lamenting the loss of her wings.

He threw the garments back to her, and snapped his fingers at the man, who reluctantly turned away from Sydney to face him.

"Yessir. Aurum. The dragon. Either way, best be getting home with your....sister?"

Althalos nodded. "She's got the fever, we think."

The guard nodded sympathetically. Sydney nudged his mind.

_The fever!?

Put your clothes back on.

Why? Wet, grimy animal skins! I need scales!

Put. Them. Back. On. You're getting every man in town to stare. Discretion is key.

Very well._

She grumbled, but conceded. 

After a half-hour, the men on the wall panicked. Ballistae bolts were flung into the air. Arrows and darts flew to embed in the flesh of the huge gold dragon that rose above the wall, torching the men who manned the parapet. Althalos saw a screaming soldier fly past his view, followed by a wet crack as he hit the opposite wall of the town.

Aurum vaulted over the wall, yellow flames torching everything in his path. A gout of fire passed over Althalos and Sydeny, leaving them unharmed.

_How did that happen?

It's Vernier's memory. We cannot die...but nor can we do anything to alter the memory._

The dragon continued his rampage, burning down the outer parts of the town before setting the keep's roof aflame. The woman Althalos had seen earlier ran from the scene, still clutching the baby. The father lay before Aurum, a broken sword in one hand. The dragon looked at him, before unleashing another plume that turned the elder Vernier into a scorched shadow on the ground.

The world went black.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Althalos woke again, this time to the din of battle. Sydney once again appeared beside him as a woman. He stood up to be greeted by a scene of carnage. Soldiers bearing the gold dragon of Aeyri Peak clashed with the White sword of Telthis on a wide field. A great man led the host of Telthis, looking exactly as Jakob Vernier had, only younger, and without the horrific scars his face bore.

A dozen soldiers fell to Vernier's blade before he turned to rally his soldiers. An arrow sped into the meat of his shoulder, sending him to one knee. The men let out a cry of despair at their leader's fall, and fell back, leaving him vulnerable. A single soldier clad in oversized armor approached Vernier, a wicked flail in one hand. The warrior removed his helm, exposing the reptillian features of a Draconian. The creature brought it's knee up into Vernier's face, And pinned him to the ground.

It spat a globule of saliva onto the fallen Vernier. 

"Your father wasn't much, either, I hear." it hissed, before drawing back the flail.

Vernier screamed as the flail connected with his helm, leaving horrible, jagged cuts in his face, matching the scars Althalos had seen.

The world dissolved away again.
-------------------------------------------------------------

This time a slew of memories flashed past him at once. The pain from the cruel wounds he had taken. His mother's death at the hands of a troop of Lizardmen pirates. The fight to retake Telthis' ruins from the Draconians. The tirumph at suceeding. His pleasure at the revenge taken during the Chaos War. Six of Aurum's most prized, given to cruel masters. And the old dragon could do nothing, bound to his statue!

---------------------------------------------------------------------


Althalos gasped as he flashed beck to reality, standing on the balcony above Telthis, Vernier facing him and Vrolmgang in his hand.

The old man sighed. "Now you know."

A sudden surge of energy and sheer glee ran through Sydney, and he heard a resounding crash as the Great Hall's door were finally shorn from their hinges, the great black dragon throwing herself into the Hall to fight the last few terrified guards.

"I'm afraid I do not know how a dragon thinks, but I assume she did not take kindly to being a human throughout my memories."

Althalos chuckled despite himself. "No. But a few of the men in your memories did."

"Not men...shades. Long dead now of course. But they have limited minds of their own."

Vernier gave a sad sigh.

"I will not outlive this day, Drakonire. Either by your hand or Karl Franz's, I will die. You will be spared, but now you know why I loathe the dragons and their foul kin so. They murdered my father. They murdered my mother. They attempted to kill me on several occasions, only one of which you saw. It is my time, Drakonire."

He stepped onto the railing, facing Althalos, who stared wider as the pistol appeared in Vernier's hand.

"One thing, Drakonire. I know what it is like to lose a loved one. Though I will never waver in my hatred of her kind, never, ever, let her go. As you saw my memeories, I experienced some of your own. She is a part of you, warrior. Never forget that."

Althalos shouted a denial as Vernier pulled the trigger. A resounding crack filled the air, and Jakob Vernier, the warlord of Telthis, the Dragon-Slayer, fell the hundred feet to the courtyard, a bullet in his head.

Sydney lunged through the room behind Althalos, turning the king's statue to dust. 

_I am me again! Little one, I never, ever wish to be a frail pinkling again! I am a dragon!_

She released a plume of fire into the air. Althalos gave a sad smile as he gazed over the destruction wrought on Telthis. Aeyri Peak's army was withdrawing to the west, performing a fighting retreat against Karl Franz's outriders.

Vaul, Baldur, Adurna, and Erengr fought above the Empire army, buying time to retreat. Corvus and Mirror fought with a great Wizard on a burning chariot.

Sydney allowed Althalos to climg onto her back, and the pair flew west, the dragons breaking off from the fight to follow them.

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## Ordo Xeno Commander

oh ffs! you amaze again Dirge. Simply amazing. Bloody hell, that was awesome.


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## thomas2

THAT was good! A bit long, I as only expecting around half that when I started reading, but I suppose I'm just nit-picking now...


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## Dirge Eterna

Believe it or not, these characters are all based off of music. Althalos is _Hell Song_, by Sum 41, Sydney was _Everytime We Touch_ by Cascanda, Aeyri Peak itself is _Ten Thousand Fists_ by Disturbed, and the rest of the Dragons are a mix of _Experimental Film_ by They Might Be Giants, _Vode An_, Star Wars: RC Soundtrack, and (my personal favorite)_Hands of Doom_ by Manowar.

Update tonight, after I get back from debrief.
-Dirge


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## Dirge Eterna

Althalos walked through Mourngard, Sydney close behind. The dragon huddled close to him, nudging him as he moved. A scene of destruction greeted the pair. Most of the small village had suffered terribly at the hands of the attackers brought on by Vernier's lackeys. They helped repair the town for two days, Althalos lifting spars and crossbars normal men struggled under, while Sydney hoisted whole roofs and floors onto foundations. Slowly, the quaint village returned to it's former glory, stout wooden houses with the golden dragon insignia visible on every door. Beneath this sigil was a new one, a great black dragon, overlayed with the outline of a black, serrated blade. A fleet of mortuary wagons, black streamers hung from their sides, moved through sobbing families, removing the dead, and marking the wounded for stretcher bearers. 

On the second day, Althalos threw aside the flap to a healer tent and treated every man and woman there, without regard for their alliegence. Several healers gasped as he helped a wounded member of the _Endeavor_'s crew, while a soldier of Aeyri Peak lay dying only a foot away. Althalos paid them no heed. He was just going in order. The last man in the tent gave him pause.

The man was grievously wounded. Both of his legs ended just below the knee, while his right arm was a shredded ruin, wrapped in red-soaked bandages. He was obviously blind, the milky white of his eyes tinged blue by their former color. He laughed as Althalos approached.

"Drakonire. They told me you'd come."

Althalos paused. A stream of confusion and suspicion passed between himself and Sydney, and he smiled at her protectiveness.

He moved closer to the wounded man.

"Who told you?"

"The gods, Drakonire. The bright, vengeful gods of Dragon and man. You are the last, so they tell me. The last in a long, long line of partnerships that have kept the Old World in one piece. But you...you are also different. They will not tell me how, however."

One of the healers gave an exasperated sigh.

"Sorry, m'lord. He's delusional. Keeps ranting about gods and dragons, and some keep in the far north."

The man lunged forward, grabbing Althalos' sleeve with his good arm. His blind eyes flashed with power.

"Heed my words, boy! The keep, the Keep of Sorrows! Far to the north, The Stone Obelisk! The Silent Warrior! The Tower's Fall! The Break of Dawn!"

He spoke two words, and six cards flashed into the air. The healer ran to his comrades, leaving Althalos to catch the cards. The first was a depiction of a massive stone keep, it's battlements lined with black flags and icicles. The second showed an armored warrior, it's left hand covering it's mouth. The third depicted a tower high on a mountain, breached and burning. Lightning was striking the upper levels, setting the roof ablaze. The fourth was a golden light shining over a desolate battlefield, banners and dead bodies piled six high, but there was only one standing, holding a white flag aloft.

The fifth and sixth cards were blank. The man dragged Althalos closer, almost level with the bed.

"Heed my words, Drakonire. The gods have shown me many great and terrible things! They all end with you, boy! You have infinite choices, but only _one_ will get you what you truly want! Mark me, lad. The north, to the north is where you must go!"

The man collapsed into his bed, and with a sigh, died.


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

Pah, suspense, suspense! Very nice work Dirge. Oh and I'm definitely a fan of Ten Thousand Fists by Disturbed, one of my fav bands ever!


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## Dirge Eterna

Thanks to all who have replied (or sent me PMs) regarding this story. Only this last post, and I'll be moving onto two new fics, _Those Once Loyal_ and _Drakonire_. Check my blog for a short synopsis of each. 

You guys are the reason I keep writing. Thanks!
---------------------------------------------------------------

Althalos stood facing the sky to the north. Dark clouds obscured the majority of the Wastes, but he could vaguely see the Demon Keep, and a few jagged mountains.

Mourngard was in good spirits after the last of Aeyri Peak's soldiery returned, ragged from their skirmishes with the Empire. Aurum had remarked that he was closing the Peaks, which meant a protective barrier, impenetrable to all, would be raised above the Peak. This would prevent the Empire from gaining a foothold in the Peaks. Many of the soldiers that answered the call to arms at Telthis were leaving, returning to the wilds and towns to await the call once more. Lukas had met Althalos at the gates the day before, two dozen Hashashin behind him.

"Drakonire." said the assassin simply.

"Shadowlight." replied Althalos.

"We have fought and bled together, Drakonire, and it would not be fitting for me to part with you so easily as a goodbye."

He removed a small package from his belt, tossing it to Althalos, who opened it, revealing a complex device covered in sigils and runes.

"That is a Firebreather. I used one in Nuln. Twist the top there, and throw."

Althalos turned the machine around in his hands.

"Thank you." he said, gripping Lukas' outstretched wrist in a warrior's handshake. The man nodded, his face impossible to read as always, behind the thick goggles and scarf.

"Do not thank me yet, Drakonire. Thank me when that device saves your life. Now, we must return to the lands beyond, before the Shield cuts off the Peaks from the rest of the world. Seni Enjor Thorna et Jyass!"

Althalos cocked his head, puzzled.

Lukas chuckled. "It's old speech, Drakonire. May Your Sword Stay Sharp. Common wisdom."

Althalos nodded, and the assassins turned to sprint down the steep road to the base of Aeyri Peak. He put the Firebreather in his pack, as Sydney landed with a _crack_ on the flagstones making up Mourngard's gate plaza.

_Little one. Aurum tells me we have two options. We may stay in Mourngard for four years, until the Shield will raise, or we can leave by tomorrow at six bell.

What do you want to do?

I don't know..

You must have an opinion.

Corvus is here, as are the others. Vaul, Adurna, Mirror... I feel something for them.

But mostly Corvus.

Yes. Mostly Corvus.

We can stay, if you want.

You heard that man's prophecy. You may not have felt it, but dragons are atteuned to the forces of this world. He_ was _touched by something.

Then we go north? To the Chaos Wastes?

I always appreciated a change of scenery._

She sniffed at the air, gazing at the vast mountain chain spreading below the Thornhold. Althalos reached out, and placed a hand on her shoulder, almost a foot above his head. And day passed into night.

The next morning, Althalos packed all his gear, the sack given to him by Kyyl, and the Firebreather into Sydney's saddlebags. He stuffed the gold-chased pistol into his armor, and strapped Vrolmgang to his side. The winged helm went on his belt, followed by the extra bags that were filled with bacon, bread, cheese, and fruits. A waterskin the size of Althalos' arm attatched to Sydney's side.

_This is disgraceful. I am not a pack animal._ she sniffed.

_You told me to go North.

What was I thinking?

And that's an "I love you" right back at you.

Truth._

She bent to touch his head with her snout. Althalos nodded to the dwarves helping him pack, and vaulted onto Sydney's back. He accepted the violet halberd from one of the dwarves, and without ceremony, Sydeny leapt into the abyss.

-------------------------------------------------------------
EPILOGUE

Aeyri Peak's shield was raised sixteen minutes after Sydney and Althalos left the Thornhold. The following month, fully nine Empire Armies were wasted before the mystical barrier, their life force leeched to repair what little damage was done to the Shield. From every corner of the Kingdoms of Man, whispers arose of the magical keep and the fierce warrior, whose black sword smote all in it's path. Eventually, the most outspoken were executed before the Shield's shimmering wall, trying to demoralize the defenders. After nine months, the Emperor gave up all hope of breaching the barrier and turned his armies north, trying to repair the damage done by the Storm of Chaos. Even with such drastic actions, the people of Brettonia and the Empire never forgot the tales of the black dragon, with it's mighty Rider, laying swift death to Telthis.

The city remained in ruins for as long as there were men to remember it, it's mighty gates shorn from their hinges. For some reason, even the wide beasts and plants kept away from Telthis' tortured ruins, the stone blocks of the city remaining unchanged by time. Of Jakob Vernier, a single stone in the center of Telthis was placed over a makeshift tomb.

_Here lies Jakob Mathias Vernier, the lord of Telthis and Hero of Man, as dedicated by Althalos Drakonire, the Half-Elven, and Sydney Darkscales._

An engraving showing the White Sword of Telthis shone below the words.

If any had been alive to look, for more then an hour after the tomb was constructed from loose stones and wooden timbers, a black dragon with an armored Rider grew steadily smaller as the pair disappeared into the Chaos Wastes.
----------------------------------------------------------------

Special Thanks
---------------
Google.com
Heresy-Online.net,
Wikipedia.org,
Katie,
Christopher Paolini

And especially you guys, for taking the time to read this! Look for _Drakonire_ starting in a few days. This has been a blast to write, and I'm pleased with how all the characters turned out, from the thoughtful and passionate Sydney to Lukas' reserved temper and quick methods of "settling arguements". I'm already grinding out a new host for _Drakonire_, although a few of my favorites will be returning. 

Seni Enjor Thorna et Jyass!
-Dirge Eterna


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## Ordo Xeno Commander

Brilliant Dirge, simply brilliant. I love your work.


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## Dirge Eterna

And a VERY special thanks to you, man. I loved getting on every morning and the Fiction forum would say Oathbreaker: Ordo Xeno Commander, because you always had that feedback for me.

-Dirge


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