Rise of the Dragon Masters
Heartache and Deception
RDM RP Towns and cities
Lithial
El'arai
Taterus
Mavenethar
Zeria
Viatra
Ferrain
Sar'dan
U'telm
Gelvar
Elithien
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Three Week Skip
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He allowed a moment for his words to fade into silence, "I loved them and I love Sar'dan. Because of them, this is now my home, and I am grateful to be apart of this great family. For their love and devotion, they will always have a place in my heart."
Touched by the words of Sar'dan's new King, Marthril began to clap his hands in admiration, which audimatically lead the loyal citizens of the grand city to a beautiful thunder of applause that reverberated through the ancient and magnificent white walls all around the perimeter. Tears glittered in the Prince's eyes as he smiled lightly. He said not a word while he watched, deeply amazed.
A warm smile beamed from the new King over those gathered before him like a gentle ray of sunlight. He would lightly nod his head from time to time until the ovation gave way to the peaceful silence held within the hall. "I see fit no better way to honor their memory than to serve this great City and its precious people as well as our Late Lord and his beautiful dragon have. With care...love...
and joy." Erin swallowed, taking a deep breath, "Their dreams are still within us, within me. Never before will our enemies see such vigilance. For while Lord Malias and Illatrius lay in eternal sleep, their spirits are now a part of us! For as long as the memory of our greatest leaders remains fresh from scroll to bard and word to mind, we will be a force greater than ever before!"
Erindor stayed an applause by holding his hand up a short moment, allowing his voice to reverberate into oblivion. "I thank them for strength. From this strength I am certain that their dream will be realized, and Sar'dan will be free! Hail our late Lord Malias and Illatrius the Goldenhearted! Hail!"
The whole crowd burst out in another wave of beautiful applause in appreciate of Erindor's words and in love of their former lord. Once again, Marthril joined in on the clapping of hands.
The applause seemed a million miles away, crashing dully against Erindor's detached thoughts. He drew a sweeping breath and closed his eyes, reaching around his neck for the pendant that hung there. The silver chain fell away from his neck and into his palm as he moved to place it about Malias' neck. "Stydja unin mor'ranr, Malias Konungr," Erindor purred, "rest in peace."
The King turned to Illatrius next, a visible shudder running through his whole frame. He knelt by her head with his hand upon her cold snout, "stydia unin mor'ranr, Illatrius du hjarta ramr." Emotions threatened to destroy his impassive exterior as kissed her brow. He stood and moved to Malias, lightly kissing his brow before Erindor returned to his seat, positively wrecked on the inside.
To his left, Erador gave a weeping croon in response to his suffering.
It was now Marthril's turn to give his father a final farewell. The people watched as the prince muttered respectful words to his father and the dragon Illatrius. "I will make you proud," Marthril said softly with tears staining his cheek. From a secret pocket on his clothing, Marthril pulled out an old folded note of ancient text. "It's your letter from grandmother... You served Holondom well and the lives of Sar'dan. I'm honored to have been your son..." He placed the note gently between the hands of his deceased father. From there, he moved his feet to Illatrius who appeared to be only sleeping, but Marthril knew in his heart that she was in a better place now with her rider. "You have always been my best friend since I was an elfling. I trust you will take care of my father. You're with Holondom now and he'll watch over you. I cannot wait for the day that I will join you and my father." He returned to his place upon the balcony moments later and had his arms wrapped around Zhenjai's neck as he wept.
As the roar of the applause subsided, so did the final farewell trumpeting of the dragons. Silence fell over the crowd again and all eyes, whether sorrowful, tear-stricken, or reflecting the pain of the soul, watched as Erador and Marthril payed their final respects to the antecedent King and his meritorious dragon.
In a soft, strong caress, Zhenjai held her Rider, his tears and sorrows falling and gliding down on her blue scales. Like a blanket she took her mind and wrapped it around Marthril's, shielding it from the rest of the world, and dampening the flames that burned in his mind and heart with the passing of his father, and his lifetime dragoness friend.
As Marthril wept, he wrapped his arms even tighter around Zhenjai's neck. Thank you for being here for me, Zhenjai. Without you I'd be nothing..
Erador watched as his brother wrapped an arm around his wife-to-be, and felt a knot of lonesomeness bloom in is heart, swirling darkly with his sorrow. A bright orb of hope flickered through his bosom as Cantilith's calming scent reminded him of the beautiful dragoness to his left. He turned his gaze upon her, his eyes filled with such indescribable sadness, and a tiny, unspoken request for comfort. He would understand if she did not feel comfortable enough to do so, but at least she was there; that fact helped to nurse Erador's sadness.
All the emotion swirling around in the caverns tugged on Cantilith's mind and heart to an almost intolerable level. Shielding her mind from it was the only way she could find any solace. She'd felt sorrow before, but nothing like this. She could tell how much the Rider and his Dragoness meant to the people, and the dragons, by the amount of pain in the room. Out of the corner of her right eye she glimpsed Erador's head turning to gaze at her. Taking a silent cue, she turned her head to meet his. Being shorter in her stature than he, she angled her head to gently caress his, so the bridge of her snout comfortably held his chin and softer under-jaw. "Erador..."
"Cantilith," he crooned sweetly, his chest thrumming lightly. If he could, he would have hummed to his heart's content, but he was mindful of their setting. "Thank you, for being," he purred, sidling closer to the dragoness and wrapped tail tips, akin to putting one's arm around another. He took a deep, shuddering breath and extended a wing over her.
With a deep breath to collect himself and his strength, Lord Erindor stood again, and walked to Mathril a moment to whisper, "If I may, I would like to honor your father's brother, Amrevar."
A hushed silence fell over the hall again amidst the soft sobs and wailing croons. Erindor stood before them again, "Forgive me, my people, for there are two others who deserve recognition for their lives today..."
The air within the hall had tensed and thickened considerably when their new King began to give his farewell to one of the great City's most ruthless enemies. He felt their hurt, their anger, and eventually their surprise and gentle understanding. "...Amrevar's heart was never turned as he fought the influence of the Dark Lord. He has stayed pure despite his acts against his people, his family, and the people of Sar'dan. In the end, he fought for us as best he could, dying a hero..."
Lord Erin was careful when choosing his words as he described Amrevar's defection and how he helped his brother, Malias, despite all their differences and injuries. "...If Malias found it within himself to forgive his brother, then we too should follow his example and let the past be the past with this man, and welcome him into Malias' family once again so he may lay with his brother in this hallowed hall."
The new Emerald King spoke until his heart was light and his legs felt heavy, not addressing them, but talking to each one in his own way, casting loving eyes over his grieving flock. "May Holodom and the Gods smile upon our late Lord Malias, his honorable brother, Lord Amrevar, his wife, and the venerable Illatrius. This day will not be forgotten, nor will the sacrifices of your families. While this war may not be over, the light is rising upon the horizon of its end. Never before will our enemies see such determination and strength as they will see in the coming weeks. We will crush them, righting the world once and for all so that all may be free of fear and oppression. We will succeed, so we will never have to know misery like this again!" Erin roared, throwing his hands up, drawing a bugle from Erador.
Despite the somber atmosphere, the King had successfully taken the pained emotions in everyone's hearts and began to forge it into something far more powerful; courage and hope. An inspired few even broke out in quiet applause, shouting, "Hail, Lord Erindor!" or "Hail, Malias the Wise, and Illatrius the Strongheart!"
"Thank you, my people," Erindor purred, his voice cool and collected again as he watched them with enigmatic but soft eyes. "I invite you all to come and give your respects to the deceased now. And please be aware that our new found hope; our mighty dragon allies, will be giving a ceremony after dusk tonight for Illatrius. I would like now for the first row to stand and honor our fallen leaders if you so wish."
It was late afternoon by the time the citizens of Sar'dan had finished with their sad goodbyes, returning to their homes to rest and rebuild what had been torn from them one fateful night. The Hall was now empty as the last of the people left its hallowed depths, leaving the new Lord, his wife-to-be, Marthril, and their dragon companions to commiserate.
"Ugh..." Erindor moaned as he sat down upon Erador's forepaw, rest his back and head against the warm and smooth emerald scales. "Come're, Sincalia," he purred, a silent tear falling from his eye.
Erador crooned deeply, pulling Cantilith close with his wing and lightly nuzzled her cheek.
Cantilith returned the favor and crooned physically and mentally to Erador, her body and mind thrumming. Extending her neck, she turned her head upwards and returned the gesture. Briefly she stopped and looked around, and noted that there were only a few remaining. Being only afternoon, and all tributes spoken, most members had dispersed. Of course, she and Erador remained, along with Erindor and Sincalia, Marthril and the rest of the dragons in company. Cantilith refocused on Erador and rested her head on his shoulder, and continued humming.
Upon realizing the duties he had to fulfill, Marthril turned to the company and bowed. "Forgive me, but I must go. There are still citizens within the infirmary that need my attention. My replacements need their time off." He moved his eyes over gently to meet Zhenjai's. "Zhenjai, enjoy the remaining of your free time. I will return for the next event. Until then, I will miss you." He wrapped his arms around the dragon's scaley neck. "I love you and take care of yourself." Smiling, Marthril used his magic to vanish in a flash of luminous light.
Zhenjai crooned deeply to Marthril, and as he vanished, the mental thoughts of the dragoness stayed with him. 'I love you too, Marthril. Farewell.'
"I thank you for your support," Erador said to Cantilith in a quiet, slow tone. "I'm not always like this," he chuckled, albeit weakly. The Emerald Drake's sides rumbled as he drew his sweeping breaths, content to have such sweet and understanding company at this hard turning point in their lives. Erador drew a voluminous sigh that stirred anything that wasn't fixed properly in that part of the room. "I need to rest a short while before we perform the Ritual for Illatrius' remains. I think we should clear our minds for at least a short time and go re-connect with our lost brothers, Ajin and Avarath, yes?"
A brush of sorrow touched his consciousness from a certain young pupil of his. "My dear Zhenjai," he purred, swinging his head around to watch her with soft, emerald eyes. "What can I do for you?" he asked, extending a free wing in case she needed to be shrouded from the world for a time.
Before Marthril left in his tide of bright magic, Erindor gave the man a friendly nod. The warmth of his companion nestled into his side brought him a unique sense of comfort that was more than welcome. And speaking of companions, he had yet to hear anything about Cantilith from Erador! That bugger. "Tell me more about yourself, Cantilith," he began, watching the beautiful dragoness out of the corner of his eye.
Taking Erador's offer, Zhenjai quickly flitted to his wing. It took a bit of time before she remembered that while she was young, she was no longer a hatchling and the momentary comfort that resided with her was enough to keep her sane. She crooned, in thanks to Erador and and left the caverns, her form light and agile as she walked out. 'I shall return for the ceremony, My Lord, however if you need me before then, I'll be atop the city.' And with that, she was gone.
Zhenjai's departure only distracted the present company for a moment before Erindor's ligering question filled the room. More? How much did he know? What had Erador already told him? Cantilith blinked. In all this bustle she'd forgotten that she was a wild dragon; she hadn't even realized all the people that were around her, she just seemed to meld right in. But now, as Erindor spoke directly to her, she found that she was a bit shy. Yet despite momentary hesitation, she opened her mind and spoke with a light, soft, melody of a voice. 'Well, as you already know, my name's Cantilith,' She chuckled softly. 'And for about half my life I've lived in the far mountain ranges, a secret until now. The other half...well, you may already know about that by talking with Ajin and Avarath...' Her voice trailed of momentarily before taking on a breezy tone again. 'I must also say I'm very pleased to meet you both.' She bowed her head in the humanistic sign of respect, and with a mental grin to only Erador, 'As well as you, as always.' 'But what else bid you know, My Lord, My Lady?'
Erindor was about to open his mouth to reply when the ripples of dark magic radiated through the castle. He hissed at the sensation, and stood upright immediately. "Marthril!" the Lord of Sar'dan exclaimed, triangulating the location of the elven prince and teleported in a crash of light.
Yelping, Sincalia moved just in time to prevent getting thrown by Erindor's sudden movements. "Erindor?!" she questioned just as the Lord was vanishing, and ran to him, only to grab an armful of cool air. With little thought, she bounded up Erador's leg and secured herself between his shoulders. "Pardon us, Cantilith, but I think we should go see what the matter is!"
Erador preened the side of Cantilith's cheek. "Erindor, what's happening?!"
"Marthril was attacked, the the babe Zan'ix is gone. I am healing Marthril now," was the generally calm reply from Erador's brother. "The threat seems to be gone...but the city will have to be on alert."
"I'll be there shortly," was Erador's reply. "Come see the castle. I promise things will calm down after this for a time," he purred, clutching Cantilth close for a moment with his wing before he furled the limbs to his sides and stood, moving for the back of the room. Erador took one last glance at Illatrius and Malias, wishing with all his being he could cast a spell of protection over their resting bodies. Without further ado, he ran with Sincalia atop his shoulders to the infirmary.
Once Marthril entered the infirmary he headed straight to Zan'ix's room, the child that Amrevar and his wife rescued from the city Morac had mercilessly destroyed. The infant had been left in the care of a nurse who was entertaining the child and causing him to laugh. Smiling, Marthril approached the woman, motioning for her to give him the child. Zan'ix kicked around happily when Marthril first held the boy, both hands under his arm pits. The baby with green hair was making adorable bubbling noises and giggled. "There we go, Zan'ix. How are you doing? It's been a while since I last watched you," Marthril said softly to the infant. As the nurse was leaving, Marthril sat down on the floor and allowed the infant to crawl, but the child remained there staring up at his caretaker. The Elf gave the human baby a brown wolf doll. Giggling away, Zan'ix stuffed the toy's face in his mouth, sucking on it. Marthril laughed, "I thought you might like that." Sighing, he began imagining the life the child might have growing up. Erindor... I have a question... What are we going to do about the boy? Would it be alright if I care for Zan'ix on times and days when your schedule is busy? I've grown a liking to him.
Erindor? Marthril said, still receiving no answer.
"You can not send mental links beyond my barrier," said a dark, menacing voice. The door opened to the nursery, revealing a grave drow elf cloaked all in black. His red eyes remained on the child. "I require that child. If you do not surrender him to me you will be slaughtered." He stepped coldly forwards, face unchanging.
Marthril shook his head in utter refusal and his face became altered by pure rage. "Why should I surrender a perfect, innocent life that would benefit your master with nothing?" Marthril growled. "Even if you try to forcefully pry the child from my arms, I will protect him with my life. The likes of you don't belong here."
"Oh?" Zenixus chuckled, amused. "Apparently, you don't quite understand the child's power. It's far more superior to your own. It was a mistake to think him a mere human. Zainix... is half a god if I'm not mistaken. A son of Holondom... a destined Dragon Rider. He is a chosen one to be tainted by Lord Morac. Your refusal makes you a dead creature..." A thick, misty power flowed around the drow's strong hands. "I'll turn you into a meal for scavengers and I won't yet say what will transpire upon your dragon..."
Marthril quickly and gently laid the child in his crib. "You lie. He is not the son of Holondom! Holondom has no sons!" Marthril went to throw a punch at Zenixus, but the dark elf vanished in midair, reappearing behind his victim. Instantly, Zenixus siezed the back of Marthril's neck, slamming him face first into the stone floor. The force was so strong it left a small crater. Blood trickled from Marthril's mouth and from broken skin on his forehead.
Zenixus held the prince in the painful position. "Changed your mind yet, Prince Marthril? Hm?"
"No," Marthril said bitterly, trying his hardest to get up, but Zenixus was far to formidable for him. Zenixus would only shove him back down.
"How is it that a person with your political status cannot fight like a rider? You risk your life by being a mere Healer... You're pathetic and you have chosen your fate, Son of Malias. Just like your father, you will die... Father like son... You have no purpose. You are weak and you can't possibly believe that you can benefit Sar'dan. You have no worth. Now, die!" An immediate surge of black energy flowed into Marthril's body, sending him extreme agony like none he ever felt. The wave of hurt emotions and severe pain of his body being tortured sent Marthril into unconsciousness. However, Zenixus believed him to be dead, so he seized the child before disappearing from sight.
A gentle breeze blew through the room as Lord Erindor appeared from within a clash of light. His eyes took in the room, hissing again at the taint of black magic, and raced to the crumpled form of Marthril. "Marthril!" he exclaimed, sliding into a crouch and readied advanced magics. "Come on, come on back to us," Erin pleaded, filling his friend's body with warm, white healing magic. Lord Erindor closed his eyes and placed his hands upon the man's spine and neck, purging the effects of the dark magic before it could permanently harm him like it had Malias in the past. A thrum developed in the room as Marthril's body was saturated with a halo of golden energy, its depths pulsing with the beat of his healer's heart. "Marthril," Erindor soothed, coaxing the elf's consciousness to the surface. His body was flawless again, and it left Erindor with a twinge of exhaustion in his battered state.
Marthril coughed harshly, bringing up all his might to stand up. He was still mentally thrown off and his balance was out from being slammed around. "You saved me..." He said weakly as he fell back down. "Thank you...Erindor." Zhenjai... "Zhenjai!!" he shouted, getting up. However, he continued to slip due to his lack of energy. "Is Zhenjai alright?!" Vomit was forced from his mouth before he could finally stand up straight. He wiped the mess from his face, feeling a mix of emotions of fear and hopelessness. "Please forgive me... I failed to protect Zainix..."
"Just, sit still," commanded an exhausted Erindor, moving lethargically and put a hand securely to Marthril's shoulders. "Zhenjai, Marthril needs you!" he sent out as a general hail to the beautiful dragoness. "You're just going to hurt yourself again...slow down," Lord Erin said, stifling a yawn. The news of the babe Zainix being taken left a sower taste in Erindor's mouth, and he stamped his foot. "We're going on the offensive as soon as we can. I'm tired of defending Sar'dan. Its time get them uncomfortable by ripping their streets apart, and defile their ground as they have ours," he growled, letting go of Marthril after he was sure the elf could now stand on his own power.
Slinding on the marble floor due to her speed, she kicked out her talons to control her mass. Zhenjai growled as she narrowly missed a guard in the hall. Thrusting her head into the room before the rest of her mass followed, questions and emotion without words rushed onto Erindor and her own rider. She paused, with her snout inches from Marthril's chest, snorting and holding back a growl, yet ever thankful that Erindor had reached him in time.
Marthril nodded in agreement, feeling a bit more recovered. "It's about time, considering that the only reason why my father held back was because of Amrevar. Morac is a different story, for there is no light within him. He was born of the darkness from his father's heart. He has never loved, he has never shown compassion. Killing him would prevent certain chaos." A sudden thought came to his mind, transforming Marthril into a very determined prince. "I am going to train with Zhenjai from now on. I'm going to fight and nothing is going to hold me back." He stared at the ground, clenching his fists as he growled. "Morac has done enough to my family and I want revenge." Then he disappeared in a burst of light.
"Marh-!" Erindor exclaimed as the elf teleported again. He fumed for a moment with a hand over his eyes, "Didn't I just say, sit still? Doesn't anyone listen to me anymore?" he chuckled, sending his mind out to Marthril, "I respect your vigilence, brother, but you need your rest. We can discuss the arrangements of your training in the meantime, yes?"
While he waited for Marthril to aknowledge the mental message and reply, he went about studying the room and the magics within it, recreating the crime scene in his mind as it happened.
Very well, Marthril sighed. I needed to make preparations for the wedding anyhow. When is it? Tomorrow morning?
"Yes, it is tomorrow morning. But, my dear Marthril, don't make me order you to bed," Erindor replied with both an air of playful amusement and gravity. "Shall we discuss various future matters in person? Or shall I let you work out your feelings for the time?" he asked, finishing his assessment of the room in time for a few shocked healers and guards to show up.
"Well its about time someone heard the Prince of Sar'dan getting beaten by an assassin," Erindor cut sharply, taking a breath when he saw their eyes widen, looking at the pool of blood on the floor and then him. "No, not by me, you silly louts! The taint of the dark magic is clearly of Morac's teachings. Possibly a drow elf. And yes, Marthril is fine, I healed him...he's just...gallivanting off someplace else with the strength he has left."
This last statement seemed understood all too well by the other healers, given by their facial expressions. "Unfortunately, the baby Zainix has been kidnapped. I want this city's vulnerable resources under lock-down. Watch those dragon eggs!" he ordered to the three stunned guards. Erindor brushed his hair back and pushed through their ranks with two huge gaits and moved briskly in the direction of his brother and the others.
Zhenjai stayed behind in the room to aid the entities left there, and to see that Erindor's orders were carried out exactly as they were told. Noticing a guard remaining stationary in shock, she glared in his direction. A quick snort and fierce look sent him scampering with the rest of his comrads to aid the city.
"We will need to ensure that the eggs are all accounted for. I feel that this kidnapping isn't finished yet," Erindor said. "Dammnit..." he growled, putting on a full out sprint, rushing though the halls as fast as they architecture and the friction of his paws would allow. In his venture, he nearly ran straight into Erador's leg as it extended from an adjacent corridor.
"Erador, we must ensure that the eggs are safe," Erindor said simply without missing a beat as he dodged the obstacle.
While the king was busy developing his plans for higher security, Zenixus created a second dark barrier around the room that gave a weak refuge to the eggs. He exited a shadow from the corner of the room, eying the nest closely after scanning the room for threats or hazardous traps. Seeing it somewhat safe, he approached the eggs and picked up one of the black ones. He payed no heed to caution, considering the fact that dragon eggs were tougher to break than diamonds. "This is the one," Zenixus said during the short amount of time he took to thoroughly examine it. He closed his eyes is extreme focus and he used his magic to create a black forcefield around Sar'dan. To cover up his sent and aura, a thick cloud of pungent fumes drew up from the cracks of the earth, formed by the shadows themselves. He vanished, showing himself outside of the city for his own desire of messing with his enemy's mind. "Erindor... Erador... I have killed Marthril and have now captured a dragon egg. Come find me if you so dare," he said with a grin, allowing his menacing voice to sound throughout the entire civilization. "I could be anywhere in the city," Zenixus continued as the streets grew dark with the magics.
The thoughts met nothing but a flawless and iron barrier around the minds of those Zenixus wished to torment with his flaccid words. When they reached the poisoned room, Erindor ducked to safety as Erador blasted away a seething hole in the dark magic barriers around the holding room with a blinding bolt of sapphire plasma. Erindor rushed in, the whole world a solid blur as he counted a missing egg. He rescued the remaining eggs and took them briskly to Cantilith, "You are to watch the little ones. Hold them carefully within your maw," he instructed quickly.
Sincalia stopped Erindor in his tracks with a firm hand to his shoulder, "Love, what is wrong?!"
Embracing his fiance, Lord Erin drew a heavy breath as he allowed himself a moment of tender emotion, "We're under attack again. Not by an army, but by one skilled in magic. I need you to go with Cantilith...please, do not argue, go!"
"BE BANISHED YOU SINFUL SPIRIT!" Erindor roared as the doors to the castle burst forth, revealing a hallowed shaft of white that mercilessly tore through the pitch darkness. From the maw of the citadel burst forth Erador and his brother, throwing blinding shafts and shards of pure white light through the streets of Sar'dan. Zenixus was strong, their magics were turning the air and the earth with deadly resonances that threatened to crumble buildings and crack streets as light fought dark once again as it had many times in the ancient past. Erador paraded through the city, dispelling pockets of the darkness with their resplendent light that shown from every scale, every cell. "Forfeit and we will save you a public display of your execution!" they would taunt with magically amplified voices that rang through the city like voices of proud angels.
Zenixus only laughed at their efforts he considered pathetic. His laughter could be heard by every ear in the city. Suddenly, Zellor'ox, a large and powerful black dragon, jumped out from the darkness to attack Erador. "The egg is ours!" Zellor'ox hissed sinisterly before crunching down upon Erador's neck. Somehow Zellor'ox had grown big enough to match the size of the legendary green dragon Erador. It was a rare site to see a young dragon become so massive; however, it was because he had inherited it from his father Drazon. In all, he fought ferociously like a starving wolf.
"SKETH'RE!" Erindor cursed, leaping form the shoulders of the surging dragon beneath him and drew his sword, Valourne. The rider, with his sword raised high over his head flew in a perfect arc his appointed destination; the deranged dragon's neck. The deadly weapon snapped down upon Zellor'ox's neck, only to find a well fortified ward protecting that particular appendage. Acting quickly, Erindor went to stab the dragon's eyes, moving with viperous speed before he used his own might and magic to prize the two dragons apart in a emerald flash of light, albeit with a great deal of effort.
Erindor latched his limbs onto Erador's neck just behind his head, and just in time as well. The Emerald Dragon roared in indignation and bucked his rear into the air, swinging around on a single forepaw to smash his tail into Zellor'ox's side with devastating force, enough to throw him bodily that was.
The impact tossed Erador to the ground, where he was on this paws in moments, fire seething from his maw and nostrils. He had been lucky that Erindor's wards held, but they may not be able to take another bite like that. Without further warning, the sun-like dragon launched himself at Zellor'ox, diving under the other drake, throwing him upwards as his maw caught and twisted on Zellor'ox's right hind leg, viciously pulling and tearing at the flesh in an attempt to mangle the bones within.
In those same moments, Erindor leapt from Erador's neck, landing squarely on Zellor'ox's back. He drew his sword again, hacking at the dragon's wing membranes where they connected to his body. The fighting and bucking dragons threw the Rider several times, yet he was persistent in his sabotage.
Zellor'ox became irritated by the turn of the battle, for now he himself had to fight for survival. Although, his only duty was to buy Zenixus time to escape the Sar'dan kingdom. Full of pride, he knew he had become successful considering the new fact that the Drow's black aura was fading into the distance... and fast. "Even if you kill me, you have already lost sight of the child and the egg that contains my sister," he Zellor'ox laughed wickedly. "You've failed in your poor attempt. I distracted you from your true goal. Since my job is now done I will leave you to sulk in your cloud of defeat, oh great kings of stupidity." Then he vanished into the darkness to get away from the light-users so he could reunite with Morac, his rider.
"Oh no you don't!" Erindor roared as he fell the distance from Zellor'ox's back to Erador's, who had flipped with grace and dexterity, ready to take them to the skies. "Take us to them!" Erindor cried, banishing the darkness from Sar'dan with their light as they bolted into the sky. A blast of light like a flash of lightning proceeded a terrible clash of thunder as Erador called upon the light and thundered ahead, cleaving the air with a roar. The skies and earth was washed out with their light as they bore down upon the fleeing fiends. "COWARDS!" Erador roared, firing off electric blue rounds of plasma from his maw as soon as they were within range.
The rounds hit the earth with such passion that the air and ground was rent in two, throwing off tremendous shockwaves and fireballs the size of Zellor'ox himself.
"Ignore them," Erindor commanded of his brother, his black mane and tail rippling in the wind as he bent low over the saddle. They surpassed the evil pair at twice the speed of sound as a fiery meteor, throwing off a sun's worth of cobalt light.
"Yes, brother!" Erador roared, bugling into the skies. They were to strike at the heart of the evil nation to the east. This was normally suicide, but Erindor and Erador had a few tools that might allow them a successful mission; bravery, a powerful dragon, a seasoned rider, and hyperflight. Speed would be the key to this venture, attacking with furious velocity!
The distance between holy Sar'dan and the City of the Damned was a short one, traceable by a brilliant streak of light across the early evening skies. Soon its dark walls were visible upon the horizon. By the time they even loaded their dragon-slaying javelins it would be far too late. The deranged city could only look on with shielded eyes at the sun that was bearing down upon their disease infested realm.
Erindor infused his brother's lungs and vocal chords with magic, allowing him to rattle the very bones of their adversaries with a harrowing, tri-tone bugle with a rich vibrato. The air about them rippled and bent as the ground below them rose up in a shock wave in response to thunderous sonic boom that followed form Erador's trailing eddies.
"LET THEM HAVE IT!" Erindor roared, raising his sword high despite the great wind.
Without further ado, Erador slowed to about half his original speed and dove for the heart of the city, throwing out a blast of plasma shells that screamed mercilessly through the darkened skies. Had their been a moment of silence before the coming of Erador, it was now suddenly destroyed by tremendous explosions, ripping apart the twisted buildings and streets of this evil place. Erador pulled up and banked around, having traversed the length of the city in a mere couple of seconds, and left a swath of destruction all the way through it.
He made for his second attack, laughing at their hideously aimed javelin shots as Erador bore down on the outer defensive wall. He drew in a mighty breath, filling his lungs and being with air, fire, and magic.
Silence.
A terrible report rang through the city as a single shell, properly aimed, completely obliterated a fifty-foot swath of the strong stone wall that protected the city. Erador shot through the ensuing fireball, flames licking the tips of his wings before he drove up into the sky once again, leaving the flaming debris to rain down upon the city. The light dimmed and his body disappeared from sight.
"Are you hurt?!" Erindor asked his brother as he held onto the saddle for dear life during their near vertical ascension. They hid in the clouds for a moment, cloaked by light for invisibility.
"Not yet," Erador replied, watching the distant city far below them as he circled about it. "I shouldn't have given so much with that last round, I might not be able to take on the Citadel like we had planned."
"Very well. Take us in for lateral run against their air defenses. I want those javelins gone," Erindor replied, re-gripping to the saddle as Erador banked near vertical and dropped silently, his form shrouded in the twilight.
"Steady...steady..."
"Shut up, brother! I know how to bloody fly!"
Erindor stayed silent and kept his eyes open as they leveled out a kilometer from the city and raced to its ramparts. Light suddenly burned into existence, throwing the city and landscape into hyper relief as Erador bore down on the outer wall at near sonic speeds, firing off exactly twelve rounds of plasma. Ten hit their targets, obliterating them violently, while the final two missed and ripped holes into the defensive wall, showering soldiers and buildings with heavy boulders and rocks. Erador lowered his tail as a bludgeon, allowing it to raze the top of the ramparts, destroying anything and anyone in its path.
A searing pain in his hip caused Erador to buck and roar, tearing off for the skies again. Erindor whipped his head about, looking for the reason of his brother's agony, only to find a javelin protruding from his right flank, buried deep in the muscle and joint. "Erador! Retreat, now!"
"Oh ho ho...never," Erador growled, shutting Erindor off from his mind as he twisted through the air thrice and put on an extra line of speed.
Erindor sat witness as Erador took out thousands of years of pain, hate, and vengeance upon the dark and twisted city. He could feel the sadness grow within his brother's heart as they maimed and ruined, cutting burning swaths across the city that would grow into raging tempests as the rage filled fires consumed the darkness.
An hour passed, dodging new enemies and dangers, always evading them with sheer speed. A quarter of the city lay in flames or ruin as Erador made for his final pass; the Citadel. Within him grew a deep and sinister vibration, akin to the moments before a violent eruption. Within the emerald drake he drew all his hate, all his rage, all his sadness and forced it upon his magic and might, allowing it to grow quadratically, cubically, and quartically. "MAY THE GODS SHOW YOU AS MUCH MERCY IN THE UNDERWORLD!" Erador roared, throwing himself towards the Citadel's highest spire.
Thunder overtook the realm of the living as Erador released all the hurt within his heart into one final act, throwing not, dozens, but hundreds of potent projectiles that screamed across the night sky.
It was a grand sight to behold, terrible and legendary. An angry horde of blinding plasma incendiaries drew across the sky and bored into the Citadel's higher levels, ejecting spires of flame hundreds of feet tall and expelling tons of rock and flaming wood. So hot the bolts were, they vaporized solid rock, exploding it entirely. So numerous and powerful the missiles, they ripped clean through the structure to hammer the city beyond.
Flames engulfed the central spire as it began to slide loose from its foundation, cut clean at the point of attack. Erador circled and watched with a terrible feeling of satisfaction within him, ignoring his blood, ignoring his pain and torn wings, the burns...just watching as the tallest and proudest structure in all of Mavenethar fall from its perch and smash upon the ground hundreds of feet below in a great bath of fire.
Erador let out a final haunting bugle before the sight of Zellor'ox made him jump into hyperflight, evading his enemies and returning home.
Back in Sar'dan, the exhausted Erador collapsed upon the landing area to the infirmary. Erindor cried out his name, throwing what magic he had left in his body to keeping his brother alive with so many grievous wounds.
"Oh don't...be such a baby..." Erador groaned, sprawling to relieve the pressure of a javelin that was partially wedged between his ribcage and lung.
"MARTHRIL!" Erindor called out, happy at the very least to see healers rushing to their aid. He let tears fall from his eyes as he endured his brother's pain through their link, and screamed in frustration as he slipped on his brother's sacred blood, which was now pooling slowly on the smooth stone of the balcony.
"We did it..." Erador said weakly, free of sadness and hurt now. "We are not weak...they know this now. We did it," he moaned, fighting to keep his eyelids open.
"Come'on, brother! Stay with us, come'on!" Erindor cried, helping the healers remove the javelin shaft that had burrowed into Erador's chest.
Erador roared weakly, his muscles giving feeble spasms in response to the sensation of rusty steel rubbing past his lung. "Ow..." he complained bravely, a grimacing smile upon his long and carbon covered lips. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine," Erador soothed, feeling a spark of life return to him as his wounds were attended to.
"Don't worry about you?! Dear god, brother..." Erindor groaned, weeping openly now as he opened the wound at his chest to surgically remove the splinters of wood. "Marthril! We need you!" the Lord of Sar'dan cried out once again.
Marthril came dashing out as fast as he could in order to reach Erindor's side. He immediately tended to his companion's wounds and used his magic to remove what remained of the enemy's vile javelin. It took but a few minutes to fully heal the injury as Marthril used what was left of his power. Exhausted, he sat back, using his hands to prop himself up so he could stare at the ceiling in thought. "You must be crazy," he laughed in amusement. He wasn't going to get mad at Erindor and Erador for risking their lives for Sar'dan. Actually, he rather admired them for it. "What all did you do to them for you to get damaged this badly?" Marthril continued with a light chuckle.
"Thank you," Erador purred in his kind's tongue, nuzzling Marthril after lazily moving his head. He could breathe comfortably again, and strength returned to his body as fresh air rushed into his just healed chest. Erador rested his head upon the floor, closing his eyes as sleep moved in to soothe his exhaustion.
Erindor noticed immediately and became an annoying buzzing at the edge of Erador's tired consciousness. "Erador! Brother! No no no...you have to stay awake, you can't go to sleep..." he warbled.
"I'll be fine, Erindor, my dear brother," Erador purred, opening an eyelid to one of his great emerald eyes and smiled upon his brother. "I love you. Thank you for your strength tonight, I couldn't have done this without you. And trust me, I couldn't be happier."
Erindor's cheeks grew hot and he looked away from Marthril and the others before wrapping his arms around Erador's head the best he could. "Love you too. I'm so proud of you. I do know that you needed this, and I do know that you couldn't be happier. We can win this war, Erador, we will."
A gentle rumble rose and fell with Erador's breaths; he was purring. "Now, my dear Marthril. This fool's errand was quite successful. Both cities are nearly matching, but I took the crown off their castle." The great dragon smiled, feeling a swath of warm healing magic run through his flank as the javelin there was removed and the flesh healed by the healers. Erador opened his eyes, holding the elf in their suddenly intense gaze, "I let out a millennia worth of hurt, and anger...and frustration. I couldn't bear to see my home ravaged so, especially since I've been fighting so I can see my own family again. To make our home safe again. I took fate into my own talons as it were," his voice grew very grave, "And destroyed a quarter of Mavenethar."
A wave of sadness coursed through him, begging forgiveness for the less twisted souls that died this evening because of his wrath. "I laid my anger, my hate, and my love for my kin and kind...and the love for my sons, upon that city. It is to burn for days with its shattered defenses, and mangled castle. It will burn, to cleanse it of its disease...to at least for a time, hit them as hard as they hit us, so they may feel true fear and uncertainty, so they may know that they are mortal. I did the best I can for Sar'dan, for my brother, for you, for Cantilith and the others, and for my sons. I feel...not ashamed, sad...but not ashamed. I feel proud, and confident, satisfied with my bravery and abilities. I feel hopeful that the end to this may be nigh, because I can do something about this war, because I can do something that will change fate. I can. At last I feel...free."
Erindor smiled and sat down beside his brother's great emerald head and rubbed his cheek and jaw. Flashing Marthril a smile, Erindor said, "Simply put, we kicked their asses."
Marthril grinned. "And they needed it. You shouldn't' have any regrets. One day we'll free the people there who are held captive."
After the healers had finished their work and withdrew from Erador's weary but no longer battered body, the great emerald drake opened his eyes and felt a new will. "I have to get to Cantilith," he said, his muscles tightening beneath his resplendent yet war stained scales. Erindor started to argue otherwise but soon found it useless to stop the mammoth beast as he shakily rose to his legs. "Won't you join us, Marthril? Tell us, how is your training with Zhenjai? I'm sure Master Erindor would be more than happy to bestow his experience upon you."
"He's right, we'll have to put your training as a top priority," Erindor replied, stifling a yawn as he straightened his leather and metal plate war tunic. "We need to get you, Erador, back to our tower so we can get you fed and rested. No ifs or buts, this is happening soon."
"I look forward to it," Erador replied warmly, loving the idea of laying under a magical dome of bright heat lamps. The drake flexed his wings and swished his tail, moving forward through the infirmary with Erindor in tow. "Come, Marthril, we have much to discuss."
"I'll have some of the other Elves bring food up to Erador's chambers," Marthril said calmly before nodding. "Of course."
"Have I ever shown you his rejuviation room? Took quite a bit of convincing to get your father's permission to renovate the lower levels for it. Erador's anatomy can use the air we exhale, but not necessarily the air we exhale, just the gas in it, heat, water, and light to make his own food."
"Yes yes, the anatomy lesson is very interesting," Erador cut in abruptly, feeling mildly revealed.
"Sorry, m'dear brother. You're just too amazing that I can't help but do so. The room reaches temperatures of nearly one-hundred degrees centigrade, is circular and is a geometrically perfect dome. Malias felt it would be a fire hazard, but sophisticated magics allow it to work simply by allowing the castle to absorb the life of the sun during the day."
Erador made a sound not unlike a snore. "So, Marthril. Although both of you have extended duties, I believe it to be the utmost importance that Erindor tutors you to the best of his abilities."
"Which is highly understandable. I want to aid the city against the rising war against Morac and Zellor'ox. I can't sit and watch anymore. Besides, I can help aid wounded upon the battlefield as well. I would be more useful to this city." Marthril sighed.
"Marthril," Erindor said, slowing to a stop and turned to the handsome elf. "You more than just useful, you do so very much for this City and her people. You are already magnificent, but I want you to be legendary," he smiled. "The stronger our dragons and their companions, the mightier our city and our realm. Erador, I drown you in compliments because you are a gift upon us, without you, Zhenjai, Cantilith, the eggs, and the others, what hope would we have? I want to pick up our training sessions tomorrow afternoon at thirteen-hundred hours. There is something that has to be done before that though. A wedding," he said, taking up pace again down the corridor, following after Erador's snaking emerald tail as it wound its way up a grand spiral staircase.
Stunned, Marthril didn't know quite what to say after Erindor's compliment. "The better all the riders are the better we can defend the people, " he replied smiling. "And thank you." Smirking lightly, he laughed at Erador. "You poor thing," he chuckled. "Soaking in sunlight must be easier than catching prey. Better than wasting your time waiting and tracking." He thought deeply for a moment. "Wedding?" he continued with a smile. "That's splendid. Congratulations, Erindor."
"It is one of Erindor's better ideas, the room," Erador replied simply, exiting the spiral staircase at their appointed level. He scented the air and determined the direction in which they needed to go.
"Oh yes, thank you, Marthril. Here's the part you're not going to like. Because the city bade farewell to their..." his voice went from excited to grave nearly instantly, "...our fallen leaders, at sunset, I wish to hold the bethrothal ceremony tomorrow morn at sunrise. I know I am asking a lot of this city and her people right now, but I believe that this will help the morale when they see the new beginning at the dawn of a new day. Do you agree?"
"The place has seen too many grievances, so I believe it is the right thing to do. Perfect timing, I must say." Marthril patted Erindor's shoulder with joy. "It should be wonderful."
"You're right, it should be wonderful. And tomorrow, I will give this city a gift, the gift of sanctuary. No longer should we have holes torn in our hide! I believe, if planned correctly, I will be able to heal the city's outer walls with Erador's help. This city's citizens will be fed, they will be uplifted, and they will be part of something bigger than they have ever been a part of before. My dear Marthril, I do believe its time to build! Time to learn, to teach! To conquer!" he smiled, laughing at his own joy.
[ continue below :D ]
Smiling, Holondom lowered his head and nudged her. "There there, princess. You forget who I am. If I can create life, can I not bring back the deceased for the benefit of the future? Now, now... don't cry... Open your eyes, child, and look towards the forest. Look into the trees whose leaves gleam with the heart of the sun."
Just then, the wind began to howl gently in the direction of the forests; such a wind guided the young elf's eyes for the trees where she gazed hard into the magnificent green. There one the brink of the elegant woods stood three elf-like figures and a single great dragon semblance with blue, transparent glows. Eyes grown wide with happiness, Theria and Ar'rias dashed towards the figures.... and vanished.
Holondom lowered his head with joy at seeing the site. The two were at bliss with the newcomers somewhere within the forest. He looked towards Jerminshok and grinned. "Now for the prophesies to unfold into truth." Holondom, God of all dragons and life, took to the skies, disappearing into a flash of bright light.
Cantilith lay within the castle like a great sculpture of stone, still protecting the treasured eggs; the lovely Sincalia sat beside her. "They've returned." She spoke, knowing that Sincalia would understand, for it was undeniable that she had felt their return as well. Cantilith's large silver eye slid down next to the dragoness, "Do you wish to remain here or go?" Knowing full well that she was to remain with the eggs, she wouldn't have minded if Sincalia went to see the brothers, now that they were present again. She knew that the plable harm that had befallen them concerned them both, yet there were duties to be completed, and structures to be upheld.
"Boys will be boys," Sincalia replied, ghosting a seemingly normal breath on the end of a rolled herb. The tip started ablaze with a ginger flame, which gave way to a powerfully potent smoke about a corona of red embers. Sincalia put it to her lips and breathed deeply, feeling the swirling tendrils of the intoxicating smoke fill her lungs. She exhaled and looked up to Cantilith with a wry smile, "Why couldn't we just have found normal dragons, eh? No, brothers," she took another puff, "and vigilantes..."
A deep laugh disrupted the pristine scales of the dragoness' sides. "Brothers and vigilantes they are indeed." She grinned, clearly thinking about it. "Yet something about them is still captivating enough to ensnare us, eh?"
Before Sincalia replied, she paused to listen intently upon the sound of Erindor's voice approaching from an adjacent corridor. The male's warm baritone made her smile as warm feelings radiated through her bosom.
"Because they're some of the very last?" she chuckled, shaking her head, "no, that's too harsh. There is something that captivates; makes you feel alive and welcomed." Sincalia drew another breath from the smoldering herb roll, "Although, I haven't decided if they're thrill seekers or not yet. If they are, well, then we might have a problem." Pausing to enjoy herself, Sincalia blew many a stunning ring of smoke. "Is the smoke bothersome?" she queried politely.
"Of course not." After all, if it had bothered her, Cantilith needn't breathe for awhile. Hence the reason that her kind could fly so high and swim well, too. "While they may be thrill-seekers, I do believe that they have their heads on straight-" She paused a moment as she saw two figures careen around the hallway's corner, entering the room where the two females sat. "Well..." Cantilith corrected herself with a chuckle and glanced at Sincalia then flashed a sweet grin back to the boys. "They do most of the time anyway."
Sincalia gave a melodious chuckle in response to Cantilith's words. "Its good to know they still have a bit of foolish fun time and time again. Can't be all serious," she purred, smoothly drawing another breath through her herb roll to punctuate her statement. Sincalia spoke aloud purposely when the 'boys' came into earshot.
Chuckling merrily, Erindor broke from Erador and Marthril to run to Sincalia. In few deft movements, Erin had his fiance in his arms and her herb cigar protruding from the side of his maw. "A bit of foolish fun?" he chortled, the cigar bouncing up and down between his lips as he spoke. Erin gave a cough from the dense smoke, eliciting a gravely chortle from Erador, a sound that vibrated the adornments upon the stone walls.
"Oh the irony...a dragon that can't handle smoke," Erador teased his brother.
Erin gave Erador a steely glance before mirth overtook him with a smile, his whole presence vibrating with anticipation and joy. "Oh I do have a surprise for you tomorrow, dear Sincalia."
Leaving the two love drakes to their own affections, Erador turned his attention to Cantilith. "Shall we hunt before we retire?"
"Marthril," Erindor began merrily, "I do believe everything will be in readiness as...briefly discussed for tomorrow?" The Lord of Sardan gave a quick furtive wink referring to his plans for an early morning betrothal ceremony between him and his love. Erin chuckled and turned his head away as Sincalia blew smoke in his ear.
Marthril grinned. "They are being...." An elven woman servant came up quickly and whispered into his ear. "Oh really...?" Marthril replied, smiling. She giggled happily before running off. "I've just been informed that the preparations have recently been completed." He chuckled. "So, there's your answer. The timing couldn't have been more perfect."
"My my, I do seem to leave a serendipitous wake," Erindor boasted playfully. "I thank you for your help. I shall see you in the morn," Erindor replied, declining his head slightly. "I can't thank you enough for your superior work, Marthril. Honestly, if there's anything I can do for you, you need only ask," Lord Erin offered gently and kindly. "Goodnight, Marthril."
Erindor bade Erador and Cantilith goodnight before disappearing into the dark of an adjoining corridor with his love in his arms. Their laughter could be heard long after their forms melded with the night.
"Are we having a rehearsal for their wedding?" Erador asked Marthril, confused by Erindor's sudden need to have so many important events happen back to back.
"Good night and you're quite welcome, " Marthril smiled. "Oh? A rehearsal? Well, if they really feel the need to have one... It's completely up to them." He patted Erador on the head lightly.
"Well I suppose it shouldn't be that difficult. I wonder if Sincalia even knows yet," Erador purred, maneuvering his handsome head so that his chin was within scratching range of Marthril, "Marthril, you wouldn't mind terribly much if you could just scratch my chin?" the dragon asked.
Marthril laughed. "Not at all." Marthril reached his hand up and started scratching underneath Erador's chin until the honorable dragon's itch was relieved. "There you are."
Morn
The air was crisp and ripe with an electric anticipation as the Lord of Sar'dan donned a garb of white satin in front of his gold leaf mirror. Erindor pressed the remaining wrinkles from the handsome attire before taking an ivory comb to his fine ebony mane. Today was a day to forget the past and think of merely the future, to the future that would hold fortune despite is unpredictable turnpikes. The handsome husband to be thought nothing of the possible darkness that may be, but of the light and happiness he would hold with his betrothed. With a certain ceremony, Erindor affixed glittering silver jewelry to his sinuous neck and relaxed brow, positively radiating in celebratory light.
For on this fateful day, this bright morning to be, he was to entwine his life and love with someone he intended to spend the rest of his days with, forever how long that indeterminate quantity of time may be.
The fine Sincalia was currently being dutifully attended to and adorned to be the most beautiful woman of the known world, likewise garbed in a long and flowing dress of shimmering satin, as if she were a living sculpture of such radiance that Michelangelo would have to bring his creations back to the drawing board. Again she would be adorned in a collection of silver and sapphires, nothing but a thin frosting that would accentuate her glowing face, sparkling eyes, and enigmatic smile. She would be spellbinding, but merely in such a sense that would already amplify her natural beauty. Her self conscious feelings feel away as her veil of silk adorned with the most miniscule but radiant of diamonds rested upon her head. Her thoughts of Erin warmed her bosom and robbed her of any notion of nerves.
Erindor excited the castle with a court of finely dressed elves of matching satin and silver flanking his form an even count of twelve, making his way through adorned streets and admiring citizens. It was a regal procession, the sound of his light steps shadowed by the flight of flutes and reeds. A stringed instrument resonated sweetly across the cobble streets as rice and silk were spread before the procession of the Lord as he made his way to the central square of his coronation from the night before. This morning, despite the blue and light chill of its earliness, would prove to have the passion of full morning in but a short turning of the world, perfect for the binding of two souls as the sun would shine is radiance upon the grand city of Sar'dan.
Nothing but the hammering of Erin's stalwart heart brought sense of the physical world to his mind as he progressed to his destiny, this binding and emancipating event of his life that would forever change the man. Banners flowed in the relaxed early day air as his elegant tail did, swaying this way and that in gentle undulations as he progressed to the square, his eyes abeam with joy and glory even if his face betrayed a sense of serene purpose and practiced restraint. It was a handsome and powerful scene amidst the magic of the wood instruments that pervaded the lightly perfumed air, scented with jasmine, vanilla, and lavender. Lord Erindor held his silver adorned brow high as the early risen citizens bowed before his form and gave their blessings amongst the showering of emerald silk scarves and stark white grains that rained form their hands.
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Rise of the DragonMasters
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