FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"The Alliance of Light has a long, proud history of remaining apart from all authorities of Selebore, even if dubiously so. As such, they have from early on in their various incarnations seen themselves as an authority in their own right, on later occasions even superior to the existing kingdoms, princedoms and republics that existed at the time. This despite their continued insistence that they are not to be seen as a continental-wide superpower, the lesser powers just have to bow to their better understanding of the ultimate truth.

The Alliance as it is known today has gone through several reincarnations over the ages, each one a little more disturbing than the previous.

The first sect that would carry the name Alliance of Light was nothing more than a military agreement between the Five Great Kingdoms of the First Age, along with a few lesser princedoms to stand together against a common enemy they shared in the form of the Witch-King of the North. Though very successful during the Second Witch War, this agreement failed to make much headway against the elusive magi of the Third War and as such, only ended up putting unnecessary strain on the participants. It did not survive for more than a few months after Arthulle withdrew from the Alliance in favour of decriminalizing magic entirely.

It should be understood that, at this time, the 'Light' was not seen as any divine entity and merely used as a means to distinguish the Five Kingdoms from the magi and the assortment of unnatural creatures collectively referred to as shadowspawn. This started to change when, during the Orc War of the Golden Age, a group of misfits within a new Alliance of Light started to blame the Circle of Five for the worsening tide of war instead of the corrupt governments at the time. Though this second incarnation fought alongside the magi, the old resentments did not go away and the inauguration of the first Temple of Light in Kentereal would see the first time the Alliance became more than a military agreement between kings. The situation was exasperated during The Shattering when all order collapsed, and the new religion of The Light seemed to hold the promise of safety for the confused masses. Of course, with the fall of Juinkarr, the more pressing issue of various sentient species who didn't know what to do with one another took precedence and the Alliance faded into obscurity again.

The fourth and most recent to date seems to have been their first, real play at world domination. Though they still claimed to be subservient to the existing order of affairs, they did start to actively play a more pressing role in politics, intimidating the existing authorities into contributing towards the eradication of a vague concept they called 'the shadow' and demanding the construction of a series of Temples in the larger cities as a show of subservience towards the Light. Though many magically cautious authorities such as the human, lion and minotaurs accepted this proposal eagerly, many more actively refused to be associated with the Alliance and as such, the Alliance of the early Second Age took some time to gain momentum.

Luckily, they lost much of their influence during the disastrous destruction of the eastern gate at the Battle of Juinkarr, leaving their military arm crippled for the past few decades. But since their temples survived completely intact, their twisted version of reality survived and even thrived amongst the populous, morphing away from a sense of divine duty to protect and more towards a calling to lead the scattered peoples of Selebore back onto the true path to Enlightenment. And with the renewed interest in their doctrine following the widespread devastation wrecked by the unstoppable Undead Armies, we must be wary that they do not become so powerful again that they manage to subvert what is left of the legal authorities to their whims successfully this time."

• Jonan Evans, political commentator of the early Second Age.

***

"We need more arrows!" Brigadier Coles yelled as he saw Brigadier Aurrin approach. "We are running dangerously low!"

"Everyone is running dangerously low!" the tiger yelled before turning to the soldiers with him. "Pikemen, prepare to take over shortly!"

"What happened to the attack grinding to a halt?" Coles complained loudly as the human killed the lightly armoured orc that was scaling the wall with a new ladder, and managed to disengage from the fight long enough to hear what his colleague had to say. "I've never even heard of such a reckless commitment to a cause before!"

"Probably angry because we are taking their cultural home?" Aurrin replied with half a shrug, looking back towards the gate where the second ram's magical protection was starting to fail as well and the burning wreck of the first already reduced to misshapen iron amidst a pile of ashes where it had been pulled away with grappling hooks to make way for the second. "Who knows? Though the dragons claim that it is one of the demons that is driving them on."

"Whatever it is, they are wasting their strength!" Coles scoffed. "At this rate, they will only crush themselves against these walls and achieve nothing!"

"Either way, they can still overwhelm us if we are not careful!" the tiger stated grimly as he considered the fighting along the wall. "As such, you have been ordered to start pulling your men out so I can take over. We don't want our people to keel over from exhaustion! Hopefully, these mindless attacks will cease when that second ram is also useless!"

"Right," Coles agreed gratefully. "We can..."

"Sweet Divine Light!" someone yelled. The two brigadiers looked up in surprise at where several soldiers at the back of the mad press were pointing up towards the east. They gaped for a moment at the gloomy sky towards the east that seemed to write like a living thing in itself with all the dragons that came at them.

"Let our dragons worry about the dragons!" Aurrin shouted, "Focus on your own opponents!"

"Keep steady!" Coles shouted again, though even he looked up worriedly as the enemy dragons closed in. "Front-line: Hold your ground! Those at the back, hold steady until your relief arrives!"

***

"We need to be in the air!" Merec stated firmly, already sitting in the saddle and busy linking up his harness.

"We are not asking permission!" Gahntuar agreed, glaring at the upset Alliance General as he grabbed hold of a section of the saddle.

"I know you like to set an example and lead from the front!" Adulsworth argued sternly, pointing a finger at Merec, "but as I've said before: Let those you chose for leadership positions take on their responsibilities!"

"This is not about leadership!" Gahntuar growled, nipping at Adulsworth as was usual for arguing dragons. The black drake rumbled in satisfaction when the annoying human let go of his saddle and stumbled back slightly, even though he received an amused reprimand over the bond he shared with his rider.

"We cannot spare anyone against... that!" Merec agreed, casting a worried glance eastward as he signalled to his steed that he was ready.

"A mere five sets of additional wings will not make a difference against that overwhelming force!" Adulsworth scowled, as annoyed with the dragon's mannerisms as he was with the hard-headedness of the Dragonriders next to him.

"Gharavhan? Audenier?" Gahntuar checked up with the other dragons next to him, twisting his head around as if the human general was not even speaking. "Jerielle?"

"If we can kill this Fernel character," Merec was saying to Adulsworth, though in a slightly dismissive manner, "the Umbrins will disintegrate and the skies will be ours! Unlike us, their leadership is almost depleted!"

"This is an unnecessary risk!" Adulsworth growled as the other dragons announced their readiness to follow their Lúg'hir into battle again.

"But one we must take!" Merec insisted. "Wish us luck!"

Before Adulsworth could offer any other argument, Gahntuar leapt into the sky, the rest of the Lúgroccan council eagerly following him. The dragons beat their wings furiously, gaining as much altitude as possible until they were soaring well above all the levels of the entire battle.

"How many of the Umbrins are there?" Audenier gasped, stunned as they considered the battle unfolding below them.

"I think it is all of them!" Farriha replied worriedly. "They are committing to an all-out assault."

"Why?" Gharavhan rumbled unimpressed. "They are being decimated by the ballistae and the magi alike!"

"That demon doesn't care about the cost!" Gahntuar growled angrily. "He just wants to get in and is hoping to overwhelm the defences!"

"But at this rate, they might just get in!" Farriha warned, swiping a claw down to the wall where Umbrins, not busy tying down the Lúgroccae was flooding the wall with fire and clearing the way for heavier orc infantry to start ascending the ladders.

"We need to draw out this Fernel guy, and fast!" Merec shouted.

"Right then, time to relieve some pressure on the wall!" Gahntuar announced, flapping his wings one last time to reposition himself before he folded them in tightly. "On me!"

They dove down at speed, slipping silently through the madness of battling dragons to crash into the Umbrin dragons' backs. The yellow who was busy attacking the one Equidae squad squawked startled when Gahntuar's talons dug into his back. However, that was all he had time to do as the Lúg'hir drove him hard into the wall, scattering the orcs who had just managed to gain a foothold on the wall in the process. Gahntuar spat a blast of fire at them to hold them at bay for the second he needed to take off and then he was back on the wing again.

There were rallying cheers from the defenders on the walls as the Lúgroccan council's actions caused the attack on the wall to falter slightly. But then they had to pull out every flying manoeuvre they knew when, as expected, the Umbrins started to desperately chase after them. Gahntuar roared out a challenge at them, the undeniable sense of excitement to pit his skills against theirs flooding the bond.

***

Amaren looked up in surprise when he heard his sire roar out his challenge. The almost jubilant sound echoed clearly over the madness of the battle around them, rallying the Lúgroccae and strangely, the Umbrins alike. Then he caught sight of the Lúg'hir, twisting away from six Umbrins on his tail to spit a disregarding glob of flaming slime at one of the ladders propped up against the wall. Part of him felt a little worried that his father was risking so much, showing himself off like this. But for the most part, the knowledge that they had not been left alone in this all-out fight was a powerful morale boost, one he had not known how badly he needed it until he saw the Lúg'hir join the fight.

Even though it also seemed to fill the Umbrins with a new sense of urgency to bring him down.

"That's him! That's him!" someone was shouting from a slightly higher elevation. He turned and quickly found the iridescent blue drake shouting frantically at the dragons busy putting pressure on the wall.

*That must be him!* Shella thought.

*I'd say...* her steed's reply filtered back to her through the bond. For a moment, the comment took both of them by surprise and Amaren turned to glance unsurely at the wolf on his shoulders.

"Bring him down!" the blackish-blue drake was shouting like a maniac as he swooped overhead, bringing them back to the moment. "Take him out!"

"Jerache! Tembarah!" Amaren shouted to nearby dragons who seemed to not be engaged at the moment, "Cover my back!"

"Victory is ours if we ...!" Fernel was ranting like a mad dragon just as Amaren crashed into him. The blackish-blue drake snarled in surprise when he was hit on the one wing, the shock of the unexpected attack from below causing him to falter slightly. Immediately, the blackish-green drake who had struck him twisted into a dive to follow him down, intending to drive him hard into the wall. But Fernel was a very talented flyer and he managed to roll out of the strike just as his attacker was on him.

Amaren had to scramble not the fly headlong into the wall and barely missed the parapet himself. Instead, he landed hard on the broken cobblestone street behind the wall, scattering a company of Equidae archers who had taken position there.

*Watch out!* the warning reached him through the bond and immediately he knew not only the direction of the incoming attack but the distance, speed and trajectory of his attacker as well. As such, he expertly twisted out of the way before the blackish-blue drake crashed into his back.

"Do you know WHO I AM, WHELP?" the dark blue roared angrily at the dark green as the two drakes whirled around to face each other.

"Sorry, can't help you there!" Amaren smirked dismissively, hiding his irritation at the comment. *Whelp?* he complained to Shella before he could strangle his thoughts. *He's a little younger than I am!*

*Still, do not underestimate him!* Shella's caution reached him almost before his own thought had formed. *Remember how young is Ikessa! If he is the new Claw, he will be dangerous!*

The interaction between rider and steed was blindingly fast, done even before Amaren could finish his retort at the drake he was facing off.

"Should I have heard of you before?" Amaren completed the taunt, smirking when his opponent hissed a breath of acrid smoke at him.

"I AM FERNEL!" the blue drake screeched, his eyes wild with anger at the disrespectful treatment. "SON OF ARGVES, SON OF ESHORE, SON OF..."

Amaren struck at Fernel, trying to catch the blue drake off guard while he was ranting about his supposed importance bloodline. But the Umbrin drake was a very skilled fighter and despite his tirade, he was well aware of the flow of the fight. He easily stepped out of reach of Amaren's strike, following up with a slash of his own before the green could get his guard up again. Fernel scored a painful gash through Amaren's ear and the green barely manage to twist away before he was crushed by a powerful downward blow.

"SON OF LUARCH BY MYSTIELE," Fernel continued to list off his bloodline as if nothing had happened. "DAUGHTER OF SECHORA, DAUGHTER OF FARCHIENE BY _GULLIVARTH HIMSELF_!"

Amaren blinked at his opponent as he screamed out the last name, and Fernel used the opportunity to strike himself. He got past Amaren's defences with surprising agility and speed but nearly impaled himself on Shella's lance and she managed to bring her weapon up in time to stab at the attacking drake. Still, the blue skilfully managed to twist out of her weapon's reach and she only managed to score a slight scrape along his shoulder that probably didn't even sting. Instead, Fernel snapped his jaws down on the lance, grabbing hold of the pole just behind the spearhead and with a ferocious swipe of his one front paw, he splintered the pole.

Though Shella had lost her main weapon, it did buy Amaren enough time to recover enough from his surprise to jump clear of his enemy before the blue drake could come at him again.

"Sorry, but he never spoke of you!" Shella commented as she threw the broken shaft at Fernel. The action was a little laughable and Fernel only turned a contemptuous shoulder at the pathetic projectile, flicking it away with a wing before spitting the spearhead away as if in disgust.

"If your pet cannot speak properly, then have her shut up!" Fernel hissed threateningly, his voice thick with disdain as Shella drew her sabre.

"Still doesn't change the fact that Gullivarth never mentioned you!" Amaren smirked nonchalantly.

"How DARE you speak so demeaning about the GREAT DRAGON GOD HIMSELF!" Fernel roared, pouncing at the infuriating drake who not only seemed to question the truth of his linage but the divinity of it as well. The attack was not well-considered and Amaren blocked it easily enough with a raised wing, twisting his shoulder to throw Fernel to the ground. But the blue drake was a veteran of fighting against the Lúgroccae and he automatically rolled through the throw-down. Before Amaren could land a devastating blow, Fernel was out of reach again and back on his feet.

"If he was here in person..." Fernel continued unabated, but Amaren interrupted him with a rude scoff.

"He'll tell you he's no god to begin with!" the green drake replied, still nonchalantly as if bored with the conversation, trying to keep the blue's attention on him and away from the battle around them. Still, a movement from above caught the green's attention and he looked up for the barest of moments to see three Lúgroccae pairs keeping a flurry of Umbrins from interfering with their fight.

"YOU SACRILEGIOUS..." Fernel roared striking madly at Amaren when he looked away, driven more by him losing control of his emotions rather than the momentary distraction of his opponent. Still, Amaren saw the attack come through his rider's eyes and he blocked the strike easily enough again. However, instead of the usual throw-down, Amaren struck at Fernel with his other forepaw and his claws dug in underneath the lay of the scales of his neck. But even in his tirade, Fernel saw the counterattack coming just in time and barely pulled his head away in time, reducing the strike from being lethal to only being an extremely painful one.

"That is what he keeps telling me!" Amaren smirked as Fernel backtracked in desperation, one wing-thumb feeling at the torn-up scales in surprise.

"He...?" Fernel gasped, his wing flinching away from the wound.

"You can go ask him yourself," Amaren added with a nod of his head towards the Citadel. He was still smirking, seeming to enjoy tormenting his opponent way too much.

"You lie!" Fernel declared with a rude snap of his jaws at Amaren. "If he was truly here with you, why is he not showing himself? I on the other wind have lived to see his protective wings in my own life! I CAN DO AS I WANT! I ENJOY _HIS DIVINE PROTECTION_!"

As he screamed in fury, Fernel attacked. Though despite his seeming loss of control, there was some thought put into his attack and he only feigned the attack to draw out Amaren's block move and get him off balance. However, unlucky for the blue drake Amaren chose that same moment to change his own line of attack, stepping to the side and striking at where his opponent was meant to be. As such the two drakes ended up just barely missing one another.

But where Fernel was alone, Amaren was not.

Having held back for the moment, Shella was able to react quickly enough to lash out with her sabre, scoring another painful slash along Fernel's cheek. Fernel yelped in pain, twisting his head to safety as he staggered back momentarily. As such, he was completely unprepared when Amaren shoved him aside with his wing.

Fernel crashed to the cobblestones and Amaren was on top of him before he could react. After a quick swipe at his opponent's ear to disorientate him, the green drake struck for his throat, his teeth sinking easily past the soft blue scales. Fernel gurgled in panic, pawing desperately at Amaren's chest and neck before he became still.

There was a panicked screech from a terrified drake somewhere high above.

"Get back here you coward!" someone was shouting in desperation.

"Gullivarth did not even protect his own blood in this fight!" someone else much further away retorted.

Though he could see through Shella's eyes what was happening, Amaren still dropped Fernel's corpse and looked up himself. A few fanatics tried to enforce the will of the Master on the dragons overhead, but it was a lost cause and the Umbrins were breaking to all the directions of the wind. The few who were still trying to offer up some resistance against the Lúgroccae were quickly overwhelmed in the chaos, causing the routing dragons to panic even more.

All along the walls, the defenders who could cheered as if they had just won the entire war as even the orc attack on the walls started to falter.

There was the loud snap of wings and when Amaren turned to look, he saw Gahntuar come in to land on a section of the second wall nearby. The Lúg'hir did not say anything, only giving Amaren a satisfied nod. But he did not need to say anything, for in that gaze the drake could see everything he ever needed to know about his father's pride and joy in him.

"Alright!" Merec suddenly announced, raising his sword above his head. "Let's go push this horde off our doorstep!"

There was a unified roar of challenge from all the Lumors present and a with a flurry of wings, they rose into the sky with renewed energy and determination.

***

The human sneaked silently along the gloomy alley, slipping from shadow to shadow between the broken walls of once strong buildings. The black cloak, which was meant to signify the Tower to which he was meant to be affiliated with, was proving to be very useful in hiding him from casual observation in this overly dark afternoon. It fit his needs perfectly!

He had work to do.

He reached the innermost gate relatively easy, as most of the attention was directed at the constant pressure on the outermost wall. Even the guards stationed there were easy to circumvent, obsessed with the threat from outside as they were. The only real obstacle here was the magical lanterns hanging on hooks on either side of the gate, but a quick adjustment to the amount of Mana they consumed easily dimmed their light. He did not extinguish them completely, as their complete absence would have been more noticeable than him slinking where he shouldn't be. All he needed was for the shadows cast by the small barbicans to be deep enough for him to hide in while he performed his duty.

"Quattor's will be done!" he muttered softly as considered the gate for a brief moment. The doors were still wide open, to allow the allies to fall back quickly through it should the outer walls be breached, but they had runes in place that was designed to ignite as soon as the gate was closed. That, he had to prevent happening! Confident in his abilities, he touched the locks on the steel gates, unravelling the locking spells completely. With a quick thought, he cast a simple shaping spell, misshaping the hinges on the door so that they would prevent the door to shut properly. He considered his work for a moment when a stray thought that it was an easy fix for any Black Magus occurred to him. A vague memory of his first mentor drifted to him about always trying to go the extra mile, so he added a descent twist to the bolt meant to secure the doors once they were closed. Finally, he added a small trap to the bolt. It wasn't anything as flashy as petrification; sadly, that was still well outside his expertise. But the Lightning-Manaseal would kill anyone who dared to mould Mana on the bolt as effectively, and it will slow down any attempts to fix his sabotage if it was discovered too early.

'Master Xeronne would be so proud,' Berton thought to himself sarcastically as he moved on.

The section between the inner and middle walls turned out to be harder to navigate, with the various soldiers from both the Alliance and the Equidae army milling about, as those who had seen action earlier in the day tried to take the time to rest a bit and calm down again. On more than one occasion, he had waited for an opening to dart from one ruined alley to the next, and once he even had to completely backtrack when he ran into a dead-end. But after a few tense minutes of careful navigation, he managed to reach the second gate he had to sabotage. But then he ran into a problem: Being closer to the fighting, the guards here were more aware.

For a moment he lurked about in the shadows as he tried to come up with an idea on how to get to the gate unseen, twiddling the iron ring with its amber inlays he had made for himself years ago. When he had made his own evoceather, he had earned the right to venture into the Jet Tower without having to answer awkward questions about what he was doing there. Of course, the wolf who had been his mentor had been livid the day he revealed his little charm, but in a strange sense, also proud. But the absolute control he exercised over his life had dwindled from then on to the point where the wolf with the scarred-up face was unable to prevent him from slipping along on the venture to Juinkarr. True, his studies had progressed much faster since he was exposed to other initiates and mentors, not to mention proper access to the library, but he still had to be careful not to stand out more than a human in a therianthrope world normally would. So, could he maybe try something similar here? Make up an excuse as to why he had to be here?

Before he could formulate a proper plan, however, the black dragon who had hidden in his old town like a coward all those years ago, ascended into the sky. He glanced up after them, vaguely wondering where they were off to. For a moment he thought they were fleeing again, be then he realized that the guards were also fixated on the dragon who had called himself Lúg'hir. Taking the opportunity presented to him, he rushed forward, slipping into a shadowy doorway of the gatehouse. For a moment he considered dimming the lanterns here as well, but then decided against it. There were too many people around who could notice the change. He would just have to make do with what he had.

In quick order, he undid the runes again. They were easy enough, as was sabotaging the hinges on the side of the gate where he found himself at. But then, his luck ran out just as he was contemplating how he could reach the other side.

"Hey!" an Alliance soldier suddenly asked surprised. "Who goes..."

Berton reacted quickly, stepping up to the bear and slapping him on the chest, a small lightning Manashape quickly igniting between his fingers. The burly ursine spasmed violently for a moment before slumping against the wall. The young magus crouched in the shadows as soon as the bear was down, waiting and listening for any raised alarm... but nothing happened. He allowed himself a sigh of relief when he was sure he was still in the clear and turned back to look at the dead bear again. The powerful male lay slumped against the wall, looking almost as if he was asleep. Only, his eyes were still wide open in surprise, staring unfocused at a spot on the cobblestone road. For a moment he recalled his first kill in service of Barathrum, the gryphon hen who had guarded the northern gate of Corrumwhell. Sometimes, he wondered how the worthless creature would have wasted her life had he not relieved her of the misery, and the same question rose unbidden in his mind now.

But then he recalled his surroundings again and he swore as he looked away from the dead bear. Not only did he not have the time to dispose of the corpse in one of the ruined buildings, but the creature would be too heavy for him to move unnoticed. It was only a matter of time before the soldier was found, which meant his time was now short. He had to move on!

"Quattor's will be done!" he muttered, glaring one last time at the Alliance member as if he was to blame for all the misfortune the young man had ever to endure.

He hurried along as the foolish Lúg'hir distracted the soldiers again, eliciting a round of excited cheers from the less engaged defenders and allowing the opportunity to slip from the gate unnoticed. He quickly ducked into an ally, eager to prove himself to the Masters again. Mistress Senna had disappeared a few weeks ago, leaving him alone, stranded and unsure of what he had done wrong. Of course, there were rumours of the traitorous draine from their ranks, but he doubted something so small would be able to scare the Great Mistress away like that! So, when the Master appeared to him, he was more than eager to obey any orders given to him.

But he was barely halfway down the first ally when he realized that he had gotten himself in way over his head this time. Though there was no active close-quarter combat going on in this last level of Juinkarr, the effects of the war were all around him: Soldiers rushing off to support one breach or another; More soldiers running around frantically to bring resources to where they were needed or pulling critically injured colleagues back to nearby Green magi stations; Archers supporting those on the walls however they could; Even the dragons were so distracted fighting each other around some focus point towards the south, or chasing after the Lúg'hir that they cared little about him.

It was such chaos that he found he didn't have to be as careful about not being spotted as he had needed to be when he made his way to the middle wall. Though he still tried to keep to the smaller allies, he allowed himself the concentration to start planning how he was to open the last gate. There, he only needed to undo the magical locks that kept the battering ram out, but that gate would be fully guarded, and all nearby eyes would be on it. True, he could slip away in the chaos when the horde crashed through, but how was he to get close enough to dispel the protective runes without being killed before he could get into position?

He was so distracted by the problem that he saw the dragon in the alley with him when he nearly bumped into the pale-blue rump. He bit back a curse as he recognized the draine shuffling around the rubble as she searched for something amidst the more intact buildings. The Master's Greatest Servant his arse! Years ago already, when she had often come to seek him out by the Jet Tower, he had come to realize she did not have what it took to deserve her station, so he was not that surprised when he heard rumours of her betrayal. For a moment, a Manashape started to form between his fingers as he considered executing her on behalf of the Master, but then the draine seemed to realize he was there, and she whirled around to face him with a snarl.

For a moment he thought she was going to kill him, but then her eyes softened as she recognized him.

"It is you!" she gasped in surprise, addressing him in Ziurum although her eyes darted around as if she was reluctant to address him. "What-what are you doing here?" Then, with a shake of her head, she berated herself and addressed him more determinedly. "I'm sorry, but have you seen a young, red... "

"Begone, worthless lizard!" the human snapped, allowing his Manashape to dissolve and hoping the draine had not noticed it. He had work to do and very little time to do it, and it would be best if he did not become entangled with this pathetic excuse of a shadowspawn. "I do not associate with weak-willed traitors!"

"Traitor?" Ikessa hissed, her pupils narrowing to angry slits. "I am no traitor! I never raised a claw against..."

"The moment you opened that fucking snout of yours and the glorious plans of the Masters spilt from your tongue, you became a traitor to all of Barathrum!" the human snarled, pulling the large hunting knife he had on him and pointing the blade at the dragon. It was only when the action was done, that he realized how silly he must seem threatening the big predator with such a small blade. But it was the action that counted. Though he had better ways of killing at his disposal, this was the very weapon with which he had proudly entered into the service of the Masters when he had killed the gryphon hen and he was no longer afraid of using it.

"You may not have drawn blood yourself, but your words killed your allies as effectively, and for that, there can be no forgiveness!" the human continued. As if to emphasize his words, there was a terrified screech from a dragon overhead, which was echoed by more and more dragons as the Umbrins started to flee in all directions. Ikessa glanced up momentarily, shocked at the sudden desperation overhead while the human only scoffed at the creatures who were obviously not the great lizards they pretend to be.

"I didn't have a choice!" Ikessa argued, stepping back unsurely as she returned her attention to the creepy human. "I couldn't..."

"We always have a choice!" he snapped angrily, taking a threatening step forward as the draine stepped back. "You just weren't strong enough to hold your lofty position. Instead of honouring your duty and laying down everything you have for the Masters, you put your own selfish needs before Barathrum itself!"

"What happened to you?" Ikessa asked in a breaking voice, taking another step back. "Where is the young human who regretted betraying those who had trusted him?"

"Trust is for the weak! Those unable to take care of themselves!" he scoffed.

"Trust makes us stronger as a unit than we can ever be as a scattering of individuals!" Ikessa tried to insist, but there was little conviction in her mannerisms. "Only by standing as a united group can we overcome..."

"Trust leaves us open for betrayal!" he shouted, pointing up to where a single die-hard Umbrin, who still tried to do his duty to Barathrum, was overwhelmed by three Lúggae and brought to the ground somewhere else in the ruins. "Look where it got those who trusted in you!"

"I..." Ikessa whined, stepping back again and out of the way of the fanatic human as she looked up at the final collapse of her dragons. What could she say? The human had a point she could not deny. He started to push past her with a contemptuous glare when a memory of what Gullivarth had told her earlier that day surfaced unbiddenly. Though she had lost her admiration of the great dragon, what he said did resonate with her at that moment.

"Loyalty is a great virtue, but not at the expense of the innocent!" Ikessa hissed with enough spirit for the human to halt again. "I will not have others who cannot afford it, pay my dues on my behalf!" She stepped up to him again, growling dangerously at the smaller human to emphasize her point as well. "That mistress of your's should have known better than to test my limits!"

"The Masters must be obeyed at all costs, for only they have given us true freedom! No longer are we held down by the shackles of propriety!" He swiped the blade of his knife at her, the crackle of igniting Mana running along the edge. Ikessa hissed in surprise and jumped back instinctively but the human did not press his attack. "No begone, friendless lizard! Go cower someplace else until the Master comes for what is his! I have work to do! There is no stopping the will of the Master!"

Ikessa hissed defiantly at the human she had once thought of as friendly and instantly knew what he was up to. There could only be one reason for him to be this close to the main gate. True, with the madness of the horde getting in she would be able to escape easily and hopefully be rid of the Shameblood once and for all... that is if she had her hatchling with her. At that moment, a deep loathing for the great dragon Theos sparked within her as she came to understand what he had meant about him needing her elsewhere. Using her only hatchling like this to guide her into doing something like this was low and cowardly.

"With whoever is willing to listen as my witness, my hatchling will never belong to Barathrum!" she hissed as she started to stalk towards the human. "I will not allow you to open the gates for the horde again!"

Berton's eyes widened as he realised he may have pushed the draine too hard. With a quick thought, he shaped a Firedart and threw it at her. He was no warrior and the attack was clumsy, so Ikessa could easily duck beneath the magical projectile.

"Wait-wait-wait!" he yelped as he turned around to flee. "Don't kill me! I haven't done anything wrong!"

Ikessa did not listen, swiping a forepaw at the human. He ducked beneath her strike, rolling out of the way. But as he was getting to his feet again, he was unable to avoid her other paw and she smacked him hard into the wall. He coughed as he landed hard on the cobblestones and before he could so much as move, Ikessa was on top of him. Without regard for the human she once considered a possible friend, she snapped her jaws around his chest and proceeded to shake him violently. To make absolutely certain that he would not be standing up again, she rose on her hindlegs, throwing him to the broken street with the whole strength of her upper body. She growled menacingly at him as he coughed up blood, just waiting for an excuse to have another go at him.

"Everything I have done," she hissed malevolently, "and still do is for my..."

She never completed her deceleration. Instead, she yelped startled when a weight from behind knocked her over. Instinctively she struck out with her tail at her attacker, but her angle was wrong, and it was an experienced dragon who easily batted the appendage away with a wing. She started to struggle but became absolutely still once more when she felt the cold tip of a lance press up against her jaw.

"Hold still, Claw!" a voice commanded her. "Or I'll not hesitate killing you!"

There was another flap of wings as another Lúg arrived, this one a reddish draine who seemed to have no rider.

"Tembarah!" the new arrival chirped excitedly. "You found her!"

"Not quick enough, I'm afraid!" the green draine who was pinning her, growled upset. "She already killed that Black magus ..."

"Just stab her and be done with it!" the reddish draine growled dangerously. "She tried to escape so we are justified!"

"We can't just kill her like that!" the green draine replied appalled.

"Why not!" the red growled hatefully. "She is directly responsible for Francine's death! You don't understand how horrible the icy gap in your soul is!"

"But he was..." Ikessa started to snivel, scrabbling to get out from under the green draine.

"Enough!" the green's human rider snapped angrily, pressing his lance firmer against her neck. Ikessa fell still once more when she felt the sharp tip slip between her scales and prick her skin.

"What is going on here?" yet another arrival asked as the light, light-blue drake landed next to where Ikessa was trapped. "Oh, you found her!"

"Lúg'gon Sjeric," the red draine quickly stated. "Tembarah has recaptured the Claw, but not before she managed to kill that magus over there!"

"Why that one?" the lupine female he carried asked curiously. "Surely, there are better targets to go after?"

"Who can ever understand the mind of Umbrins!" the lone, red draine scoffed. "Either way, she had proven herself too dangerous to be kept alive..."

"I will not have you quench your thirst for vengeance!" the lupine rider growled. "I know what it is like to have lost a partner, I feel the loss of Glemierre in my soul even though he died years before we ever shared a bond! But I will not allow you to commit murder! The Claw has been recaptured and she will be returned to the council!"

"At least we stopped her rampage here!" the human on the green's back stated mutedly, before turning to the riderless draine. "Go inform the Roccan'hir..."

"Traitor!" someone suddenly shouted. "We have a traitor in our midst!"

"Go warn the main gate!" another was giving orders.

"Don't worry, we caught her!" the blue drake called back.

"You did?" a Green magus asked hopefully, the equine appearing around the corner as he turned into the ally. But upon seeing Ikessa being restrained, his hope faded away again. "No-no-no! It is a magus! We had been betrayed by a magus!"

"A bear had been killed by with magic and the protective runes on the middle gate has been undone!" a fox magus wearing a dark grey robe insisted as he followed the equine into the allay.

"But..." the green holding Ikessa down started to argue when Ikessa started wriggling about again.

"It was him!" she shouted, not in the least happy with the desperation in her voice but anxious to be heard nonetheless. For the sake of her hatchling, she would endure all kinds of humiliation!

"Who?" another equine, also from the Jet Tower asked.

"Him!" Ikessa insisted, wriggling again to escape Tembarah's grip but falling still when she felt the lance press into her neck again.

"She means the Black magus she just killed!" Tembarah growled.

"Let her speak!" the lupine squad-leader suddenly stated, catching the little gathering of dragons off guard.

"Roccan'gon Cera?" the riderless draine asked worriedly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I want to hear what she has to say!" the she-wolf insisted.

"The-the human there is an associate of Sen... the demons!" Ikessa quickly rambled off as soon as the tip of the lance was removed from her throat and the pressure the green was putting on her was lifted somewhat. "He had often spoken of betraying his town to the orcs who invaded the peninsula ten years ago. He was planning on opening the gates for them here as well!"

"Who is that?" the equine in black asked, stepping up to where the dead human lay.

"I remember seeing him from time to time at the Tower," the vulpine magus agreed, "but I don't rightly know his name. But... I think he still has to hand in his final project..."

"Wait, if he is still an apprentice... what is he doing here at Juinkarr?" the green asked taken completely aback. "Who is his advisor?"

The vulpine could only shrug, making a noncommittal sound at the question.

"What's more," the equine Black magus added thoughtfully, "what is he doing here by the outer wall? Except for the three by the main gate, hadn't all the Black magi has been pulled back to the inner square?"

"Alright, you have our attention!" the blueish drake rumbled, turning to Ikessa. "But it still doesn't prove your story! Is there anything else you can give us?"

"What about the siege where he said he betrayed his people?" the blue's rider added when Ikessa could only shake her head. "This rider here had been there, so even the smallest detail may help."

"I... I don't know!" Ikessa yelped worriedly. "He said he killed a gryphon hen so that he could open the northern gate to the horde... he said he had been the blacksmith's apprentice when he was corrupted to serve Barathrum..."

"Wait," the human rider who had his lance at her throat suddenly gasped. "The blacksmith had two apprentices at the time. I was close friends with the elder of the two, but he had been killed in the siege. Only... his body was never found..."

"Kerron!" Ikessa yelped in panic as her rider suddenly dismounted. Her pin on Ikessa faltered completely and she slipped off the captured draine to simply stand over her. Yet, Ikessa remained motionless. Though she could kick the green draine off easily now and most likely escape, she knew it would not be in her best interest, so she waited with bated breath for this to play out.

"Great Nixoruma!" Kerron gasped when he turned the dead human around. "It IS Berton!"

"You may let her go," the blue squad-leader stated softly. Tembarah hesitated a moment longer, before stepping away and allowing the hated dragon to meekly get to her feet again.

"Thank you, we will take it from here!" the lupine squad-leader stated to the three magi. "Go make sure those gates are fixed. The battle may have swung completely in our favour, but I still don't want to rely on broken defences!" She then turned to the riderless draine before the magi could reply. "Go inform the main gate of what happened and have them be on alert for anyone else who might want to betray us!"

"Y-es, ma'am!" the draine replied awkwardly, averting her eyes from where Ikessa was getting to her feet. She hesitated momentarily as if she thought of saying something more before with an irritated snap of her jaws, she leapt into the air. For a moment, the squad-leaders glanced in the direction the riderless draine was heading before turning their attention back to the wall where the unchallenged Lúgroccae was now busy clearing the walls of all horde fighters.

"Why did you kill the traitor?" Sjeric suddenly asked, turning his attention back to Ikessa. "Why not allow him to complete his mission and have your master's forces enter?"

"He is NOT my Master!" Ikessa spat, a tendril of smoke escaping one nostril at the accusation.

"Two months ago, in the Ealyndore forests, he still was," Cera pointed out. "What changed?"

"They demanded that which I will never give them!" Ikessa admitted, looking down dejectedly at where Berton was lying.

"Which is...?" the lupine rider prompted when it seemed that the Claw was not going to answer.

"The soul of my hatchling!" Ikessa mumbled. The green draine next to her gasped in shock at the revelation and it gave Ikessa the courage to look up at the Lúgroccan pair who seemed to be holding her fate in their claws. "I know I have no friends anymore, but we share a common goal... even if only for today. If the Master wins here, he will... he will take my hatchling..."

"Then why haven't you fled from this place yet?" the green draine asked in a hushed whisper when suddenly she realised something else. "Where is your youngster?"

"I... I don't know!" Ikessa trembled, the tension of the day finally becoming too much for her. "We were separated during the initial catapult attack this morning and I... I cannot find him..."

Ikessa glanced over at the green draine and was surprised to see her looking determinedly at her rider as if speaking to him. Only there were no sounds from either of them. Then, the rider huffed annoyed and turned away from her to get back in the saddle.

"We can help you look for him..." Tembarah quickly stated. She sounded a little reluctant, but determined to help either way,

"You... would?" Ikessa gasped, staring dumbfounded at the green draine as if she had grown a second head.

"Good idea," Sjeric decided, nodding to Tembarah. "Keep her close while you help look for the youngster. He may be of adult age, but this is still no place for him to be alone!" He leaned closer to Tembarah and Kerron and growled lowly to them. "And once you find him, keep them both close. We'll inform the Lúg'hir of what happened here!" He looked up as Gahntuar roared out another rallying call and started flying hard out east. "Well, at least when he gets back from chasing those annoying orcs off, that is."

The blueish drake nodded at her again and without another word, leapt into the sky to join his Lúg'hir on the counter-attack.

"Why... would you help me?" Ikessa questioned when the two draines were alone again. "After everything I have done to you?"

"I don't know," Tembarah grumbled, looking up after the squad-leader. "Everyone deserves a second chance, I guess. And anyway, your youngster doesn't deserve any of this!"

"Th-thank you," Ikessa replied mutedly, the small act of kindness defeating her resolve to resist more thoroughly than all the threats she had heard before. "I doubt the rest of the Lúgroccae will accept me with welcoming licks! That Lúg'hir of yours, in particular, would prefer it if I were to die... I can see it in his eyes."

"He doesn't..." Tembarah started to say but found that she couldn't lie without wrinkling her snout. She knew very well the entire council's attitude towards the pale-blue draine next to her. Especially Farriha, who had to be specifically ordered to stay away from the Claw.

"Come," the green draine sighed instead, turning back towards the middle gate. "Let's go find that youngster of yours! I doubt he would have gone towards the fighting..."

But even as Tembarah started to walk off, all hell broke loose!

***

"The Roccan'hir is going after the catapults, sir!" Eloff gasped, the lupine brigadier of the Alliance still astounded with how quickly the battle had turned.

"Good!" Adulsworth smirked satisfied, watching as the Dragonriders started to attack the horde beyond the walls directly. Now that they were practically unopposed in the skies, it was only the orc archers who could offer some resistance to their advance. But a few passes overhead, raining clouds of fire-oil down on them were enough to have them scatter, finally leaving the hated catapults open to attack. More of their dragon allies started joined in, leaving the orcs on the walls to sallying out and attack the remaining heavy equipment, riding high on a wave of exhilaration at the defeat of the shadow dragon army. Even the ones who had been fighting since the morning did not want to be left out of the final push to victory.

"I cannot see how the horde can hold out like this much longer!" Adulsworth announced with a dismissive scoff, already mentally congratulating himself on winning the first victory of the Alliance's unstoppable march across the Shadowlands. "They wasted their only chance at keeping this siege up when they threw their dragons away."

"Agreed!" Marengo agreed with an annoyed huff, crossing his arms as he turned to Adulsworth. "Can we support the dragons now? I have four rested divisions who hadn't seen battle yet and if we make a strong push now, we can scatter the horde completely into the planes below."

"Do it!" Adulsworth agreed, turning to his orderly to carry the message to the main gate just as the equine general started giving orders to his brigadiers on how they were going to push the horde off the plateau. In quick order, the equines dispersed to carry out their orders.

"If you'll excuse me," Marengo finally stated with a nod to Adulsworth, "I'm going to move to the lower defences to oversee the cleaning up operation." Despite himself, he smirked as he looked one last time over the battlefield and saw how the orc units nearest to the gate started to scatter. "Oh, the minotaurs are going to be furious when they arrive, only to learn they were too late for the party!"

"I doubt it will ever be completely over!" Adulsworth sighed in satisfaction as the horde broke even before the gates had opened. "Yes, they cannot hold this siege any longer here, but as long as there are orc tribes in the Shadowlands opposing the glory of the Light, there will still be a lot of power they can bring to bear on us. They will be back, I am sure of it. But then, we will be better prepared for them. Better defences, real siege equipment... maybe even get some cav up here..."

"And what exactly do you intend to do in the Shadowlands?" Marengo asked dangerously, turning to regard the human with a worried glare.

"Well, now that the horde is obviously breaking, we have to..." Adulsworth started to argue back when he was interrupted by the lupine brigadier by his side.

"Um, sir?" Eloff asked. "I ... don't think they are breaking!"

"What do you..." Adulsworth scoffed but fell silent when he noticed the strange battle formation the horde had taken. It resembled a set of curtains being drawn open, with the wide section of the funnel towards the gate. Instead of fleeing back down the slope towards the Shadowlands, the orcs were rushing sideways and out of the way of something.

"Have you ever heard of a manoeuvre like that?" Adulsworth asked the equine general worriedly, but the horse only shook his head in confusion.

"Do you think we are finally going to be seeing this 'Zajar hundur' of theirs?" Eloff asked worriedly as Adulsworth lifted his spyglass to his eyes to look at what was happening at the very tip of the funnel.

"It must be one hell of a specialized unit if the hope to regain the initiative!" Marengo scoffed.

"Blessed Light of Nixoruma!" the human general gasped, the spyglass dropping from suddenly numb fingers as he spotted something red between the ranks of the orcs. Though it was vaguely anthropoid in form, there was no mistaking the horrendously malformed wings and horns of the demon. "It is true!"

"What is...?" Marengo started to ask, his mood dropping as overhead, the Dragonriders had also seen the red monstrosity and was turning around to flee in a blind panic back to the safety of Juinkarr.

But the equine general never managed to complete his question as at that moment, the demon screamed.

***

'Oh… shit!' was the only thought that occurred to the astounded Merec as the shockwave came rushing at them, kicking up dust from the ground even as it raced across the battlefield. Though he had the presence of mind to bring up a shield to ward off the worst of the attack, the power of the magic increasing the strength of the blast proved the shield to be inadequate as his dragon was knocked cleanly out of the sky.

Gahntuar crashed heavily to the ground midst the powerful gust of wind that was stronger than any natural thing he had ever experienced, crushing Merec's leg as his momentum forced him to roll over. Both drake and rider lay there, crumpled and dazed for a moment as they tried to orient themselves again.

*Merec?* Gahntuar asked in desperation. *Are you okay?* It was an unnecessary question, as through the bond he knew his human was badly banged up from the crash, with maybe a broken leg even.

The human stared blankly at the drake, not sure if the question came to him over natural speech or the quickly strengthening soulbond. He could see the drake's maw move, but his ears were ringing so badly that he had trouble making out anything else. Merec looked at Gahntuar for an unnecessary long moment, stunned and dissociative as he stared in rising horror at the blood running freely from the drake's nostrils and ears.

"MEREC!" Gahntuar shouted and this time some sound did manage to come through, though it sounded to the human as if he had his head under water. Still, it was enough to bring the dragon's back to the present.

"Yeah!" Merec grunted, his senses starting to come back as he looked around in desperation at the horde closing in again on them again. "We-we need to get back in the air!" Though he knew he was talking aloud, he could barely hear himself properly.

"Jerielle? Gharavhan? Audenier?" Gahntuar shouted to the dragons with him as he started to struggle back onto his feet. The drake looked around desperately for his friends and sighed with relief when he noticed them also getting drunkenly to their feet. Over the bond he could see the horde was nearly on top of them and with a needless order to retreat, he leapt into the air before they came too close.

But the elation of their escape evaporated when he turned back to the tower and saw the state of the gate. The barbicans had been crushed beyond recognition and the iron barricade was blown out completely. Even the shimmering illusion of rusted copper had failed for several dozen yards on each side of the gate, revealing the crumbling stone wall beneath.

Of the defenders who had stationed themselves on or near the gatehouse, there was no sign, while along the further reaches of the walls dazed soldiers were trying to assemble themselves into something resembling a defensive formation. The best of these attempts was by a squad of equines who seemed to have been on their way to the gate just as the demon unleashed its powerful voice, augmented with several layers of Manashapes. But still, they were completely unprepared for when the horde crashed into their half-formed phalanx.

As he fled back to Juinkarr, Gahntuar's heart sank when noticed a cluster of dragons nearby the remains of the siege towers. The five dragons had been on the ground still when they had been hit by the shockwave and did not move even as the horde closed in around them again.

"Great Nixoruma!" Merec gasped, his mind clearing up again. Gahntuar knew what was happening even before he turned his attention back to the gate. But still, he had to see with his sharper vision how the equine defences crumbled and the first orcs started pouring into the ruined gate. A squad of Lúgroccae, led by a black drake was doing their best to stem the tide but the press of the horde was too much and it was like holding back the ocean itself.

"Behind us!" they heard Jerielle yelp in absolute terror, her wings nearly locking up. Despite knowing better, Gahntuar turned to look at what terrified his second so much. He half expected the Umbrins to have returned, but instead, his heart nearly stopped when he noticed the demon himself striding along the battlefield towards the destroyed gate.

The terrifying creature suddenly stopped to look up at them, somehow singling Gahntuar out specially and any pretence of bravery fled the drake.

"Fall back to the second wall!" he yelped in terror as he redoubled his attempts to reach safety as Audenier zipped past him, praying loudly to Gullivarth for safekeeping. "QUICKLY!"

"How can we stand up against THAT?!" Merec yelped, looking back to keep an eye on the demon as Gahntuar turned his attention back towards hopeful salvation. The demon started to inhale, to scream them out of the sky again, but the press of orcs around him was too great and he thought better of it.

"I don't know..."

***

Havold gasped as he woke again. For a moment, the stallion looked around at the scattering of rubble around him, trying to recall where he was.

"Sir?" a voice called out to him. He turned towards it and noticed a doe rushing over to him. She was bleeding from a blow to the side of her head, her blood staining the one shoulder of her garment a different shade of red. For a moment he stared dumbfounded at her before a name drifted over the sea of chaos in his mind to him.

Petaru. His Head Councillor.

As the name came to him, much of the past few hours flooded back as well.

"Petaru!" he called out with a cough, as he sat up. "Here!" Not thinking, he reached up to touch a tight feeling on his brow but flinched away quickly again when a sharp pain stung his face. His black fingers came away wet and red.

"Are you alright, sir?" the Coral Head Councillor asked, kneeling by him.

"I'll live!" the Coral Archmagus replied gruffly, looking around for his staff again. "Where are the others? How are they?"

"Councillors Svern and Meriha who remained on the gatehouse are dead!" the doe quickly informed him. "As is most everyone there. The groups we had in reserve is banged up a little, but otherwise okay and ready to defend the breach! Vice Head Councillor Jurgon is trying to organize everyone to fall back to the second gate!"

"Breach?" Havold asked, his hands curling around the staff again. When the doe nodded to something behind him, he turned and felt his heart skip a beat. Most of the sturdy gatehouse Archmagus Eroul had been so proud of was gone. In the breach, three or so squadrons of equine soldiers were trying to organize themselves into a defensible phalanx. "What the fuck...?"

"Sir, we need to fall back to the second gate now!" Petaru insisted as she assisted the stallion. Above them, the defenders on the further stretches of the walls were also starting to recover from the blast, forming up again against the orcs who had started to climb the ladders again even as the first orc shock troops crashed into the barely formed lines of equines inside the ruined gate.

"Fall back, fall back now!" the tiger brigadier of the Alliance was shouting, trying to rouse his men who were far enough away from the epicentre of the blast not to have been killed outright and get them back to safety. "This wall is lost, damn you! Do you want to throw your lives away here?"

"We need to assist in an organized withdrawal!" the stallion snapped urgently, gripping his staff determinedly and flinging a ball of lightning at a troll who just crashed through the first line of defences. True to its unpredictable nature, the attack killed three friendlies as well as another troll before it fizzled out. But with the defensive formations by the gate collapsing quickly, it hardly mattered anymore.

"What happened?" the Archmagus growled as he attacked another troll. "Was it the traitor?"

Yes, that is right. He and most of the Coral Council had been called down from their station when rumours reached the gate of a possible magus shadowfriend and traitor within Juinkarr. But how...?

"I doubt it was the traitor, sir!" the deer sputtered worriedly, looking around them at how the desperation of the fight increased exponentially as the orcs started to press into the ruins of Juinkarr. "Whatever it was, it came from outside... and it was more powerful than anything I've ever heard of before!"

"To the Archmagus!" another voice called and Jurgon appeared from between the mess of milling bodies. The silvery lupine was leading twelve of the best masters in the Coral Tower he could find, setting up a perimeter around his Archmagus to assist the stallion in holding back the horde as long as they could manage. "Hold the line!"

All manner of elemental attacks erupted from the group in red, and for a moment it seemed that the horde was wavering. But the press from behind was too great to be held back and even the thin red line found themselves being pushed back. Above them, the Alliance brigadier was still trying to get his people off the wall, even though the stairs in the barbicans had already fallen to the orcs. The Archmagus had heard what the Alliance member thought of their defences and only now that some of the defenders were leaping from the ramparts in an attempt to escape certain doom did he realize what that annoying human had meant.

"We need to fall back to the inner defences!" the call was repeated over and over again, as the unorganized rabble started to turn into a rout.

"Sir!" a fox in yellow suddenly appeared, killing a nearby goblin with a precise Firedart. "The outer courtyard is lost, and you are being surrounded! They are outflanking us through the alleyways there and pressing hard for the second gate! We need to bolster the defences by the second gate to give the Blacks there the time they need to fix..."

The Yellow was suddenly caught by a Firewhip and he died before he could complete his message. Havold blasted a wave of fire into the orc horde more or less from where the whip had originated, clearing a wide swathe of orcs. But they continued their press into Juinkarr, their own numbers so great that it was proving more effective a weapon against the horde than anything the Reds could throw at them. Of the original group of equines, there were no sign anymore and the defenders on the wall were practically overrun as well already.

"Time for us to..." the Coral Archmagus started to say when a terrified cry of despair from the ramparts above him drew his attention.

"Bright Light!" the tiger brigadier of all men screamed like a scared ten-year-old! "What is THAT?"

The full-fledged terror in the tiger's voice suddenly irritated the equine magus so badly that he forgot about the fighting around him, the need to fall back or the threat of the second gate falling. For years now, the Alliance of Light was describing themselves as morally superior and the only ones who understood the deeper truth of justice. Yet here one of their high commanders broke down when events turned slightly against him?

Havold turned to wrathfully shout the brigadier down when a powerful Manashape ignited into a great fireball that knocked many on the ramparts off their feet. The tiger barely managed to get to his feet again when he was overwhelmed by a group of orcs.

"Can't... be..." the Archmagus gasped as the Alliance brigadier disappeared and he suddenly recognized his absurd reaction. There was a sudden disturbance to the overall feel of Mana around him, a kind of persuasive miasma that reeked of fury and hate and... wrath.

"Be careful!" he quickly warned the Reds with him when he noticed they were also scowling at everything around them. "We have a level four Barathrum operative approaching... maybe even the level five the Lúgroccae had been trying to warn us of..."

"A five?" someone at the back asked surprised. "You mean the Lúgroccae had been right this whole time?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Jurgon snapped. "There is no way this is all coordinated by a..." His denial faltered as the smoke cleared and the red demon himself stood there in the middle of the broken gate. For a second time seemed to stand still as the creature simply stood there with eyes closed and arms held slightly away from his hips as he inhaled deeply, re-immersing himself in the power of the Aetherfontes.

The spell on Havold's staff disintegrated momentarily in shock as he was finally forced to admit the existence of the Master. However, he quickly recalled himself and cast his ball-lightning at the demon. The creature reacted instantly, bringing up something like wisps of cloud which dispersed the lightning harmlessly into the ground. Almost lazily, he retaliated with an unknown spell and several strands of something purple came swinging at the group of Reds. Most of the magi managed to get shields up, while the Archmagus redirected the strand coming at him into a cluster of trolls coming for them. The trolls instantly turned to stone, along with the two Reds who had not been able to bring their magical defences up in time.

Undeterred by the poor success of his curse, Quattor attacked yet again, breaking up the loose cobblestones with a devastating Harmonics shape before scattering the razor-sharp debris at the Reds with precision use of Telekinesis. Yet, it only took another shield spell to stop the projectiles, one specifically tuned to block physical matter rather than magically created energies. Still, he managed to down another Red who had tried to shape an attack spell at that time and caught three more in the back when he commanded the shards to return to him immediately whilst bloodying the rest.

One Red tried to attack him with the Firewhip Adarah had brought back to the Coral Tower, but Quattor stepped into the attack and actually caught the tendril of plasma around his upraised forearm as if it was mere leather. What was more, the fire of the whip started to turn to stone and the magus in question had to release the shape before the petrification reached her. Quattor continued with his advance, reshaping the crooked slither of stone around his arm into a mean-looking mace which he proceeded to swing mightily at the nearest Red. The Head Councillor, who had been his unlucky victim, got her shield back up just in time before the weapon caved her head in, though the demon attacked with such force that the mace shattered and the doe was pushed back a pace or so.

Quattor finally came to a standstill as he regarded the surviving Reds who were now surrounding him. For a moment he thought of screaming at them again, but with the crumbling ruins around him and the press of orcs and Equidae fighting around them, he quickly realized that he may cause more damage to himself than to the fools in red surrounding him. Not to mention that it was a really bad idea to augment his voice within the Artherfontes's sphere of influence like he had done to bring down the main gate. He had been worried about doing it even then, but with those traitorous lizards abandoning him, he was left with few other choices.

"So, you are the one they call number four?" Havold stated authoritatively, stamping the tip of his staff down on the scattered cobblestones. The demon only glared at them with a stupid grin on his face, eyeing the weapons some of them had with a passing curiosity. However, then he noticed the stallion Archmagus, his eyes seemed to light up.

"It is time for your reign of terror to come to an end, Bloodhand!" Havold continued unabated as the demon's dangerous attention focused on him. "We of the Coral Tower have sworn a solemn oath not to allow those who threaten the purview of the Treaty of Tharrall to go unchallenged."

"Big words for a little foal!" Quattor finally muttered. Though he spoke in his usual whisper again, the grating quality of his voice made the group of magi arraigned against him feel sick.

"Then let me explain!" Havold announced, levelling the tip of the staff at the demon. "We are here to make an end to you!"

"Nine against one?" Quattor smirked as the Reds held their weapons at the ready. Most had brought powerful weapons from the Coral Tower's store of magical relics, though the few who had preferred not to bring any physical weapons now conjured up their own, made of ethereal blue light. "Oh, how far the mighty have fallen, to rely on safety in numbers like scared sheep! Do you children even know how to truly fight?"

Quattor held up his hands, black smoke curling about his hands before it coalesced into a wicked-looking, long-poled axe.

"Time to find out, I guess!"

The demon moved with a surprising speed, twirling his axe into an on-guard pose. But it had only been a ruse as he conjured up his true attack. Thick tendrils of smoke rose from the very cobblestones around them, taking on the appearance of tendrils that swung about and curled around themselves as they sought out those daring to attack their master. Most of the Reds jumped back with surprised yelps, but three overeager magi who had charged the demon just as he started to move was caught up in the tendrils. Immediately the slithers of tangible darkness wrapped themselves around the unlucky victims, dragging them to the ground and into the completely opaque swamp of darkness where the life was crushed out of them. The remaining Reds barely had the time to register what had happened when the tendrils themselves attacked, rising even higher and striking like living snakes out at the magi. A unicorn stallion cleaved the tendril coming at him with a scimitar, the runes on the curved blade flashing brightly against the corruption but the tendril was as solid as smoke and it evaporated as the edge of the weapon cut at nothing. Yet another tendril of darkness advanced from the other side, wrapping itself around the stallion and dragging him as well into the abyss. A wolf had allowed her ethereal Duelling Blades to dissipate and opted instead to strike out with great waves of fire. Against the shearing heat and bright reddish light of the flames, the darkness seemed to wither back, be she was so intent on keeping the darkness at bay that she only noticed Quattor when he was on top of her already. She formed the spell for a powerful wave of fire to push the demon back easily enough, but she was not fast enough to ignite the Shape before he planted the edge of the axe where her shoulder met her neck.

"It's Tenaxumbrae, you fools!" Havold shouted, daring to look back momentarily over the tendrils, which were already starting to reach above his head, at the magi he was trying to lead. But his forces were already down to just the Coral Triumvirate left. A tendril of smoke struck mindlessly out at him, but it was rebuffed by one of the protective runes he had managed to place around him. He turned back to the fight just in time to parry the slash of the axe with his staff and with a precise shockwave, blasted the demon off his feet and back into the shadows.

"Jurgon, Petaru!" he shouted again, keeping his eyes on where the demon was getting to his feet again. "Fall back and make sure the next gate is secure!"

"But!" Petaru shouted back, obviously distressed at the thought of abandoning the Archmagus here. The rune she had also placed down light up as a tendril of smoke tried to ensnare her and she blasted the thing with a blade of plasma.

"Go," the stallion snapped angrily, "before you're trapped as well! That's an order!" And indeed, it was a very real threat. The Grasping Shadows had already encircled the stallion, cutting off any hope of escape for him and were spreading further and further along the road, attacking many of the defending soldiers as well. Though the shadows were around the other two Reds as well, a well-aimed blast of fire could still get them out of this.

"You go!" the doe shouted to the lupine who was already looking for a way to get out of this mess. "Only one is needed to accomplish that task, the other must stay behind as backup to the Archmagus!"

"Y-Yes, ma'am!" the lupine yelped quickly and with a wave of fire, he sheared a way open for himself to escape through.

"Petaru, I swear ...!" Havold cursed her loyalty, turning again to try and see what was going on. But the dark smoke had obscured everything from him by now and he could only guess at what was going on beyond his little protected circle.

"It's already too late for her," Quattor's horrible whisper mocked him from somewhere in the shadowy darkness.

Havold swore and started to make his way towards her, blasting the shadows with a small fireball and laying down a protective rune before they could reform. But with his fourth attack, the magical trap changed. The shadows solidified into a dull grey granite around him, the tendrils now standing solid and unmoving in a maze around him like a dead coral reef. The fireball he had cast burst against one, the flames licking harmlessly around the stone spike. The stallion swore aloud, blasting the stone structures around him with every attack spell he could think of. But even the concussive shockwave had little effect other than crumbling one tendril at a time as there was not enough surface area for the spells to affect. For a moment he considered morphing the stone into something less durable or rigid, but when he tried to form the basic shape he had last used as an initiate, the shape ignited into a worthless puff of acrid smoke as soon as he tried to slip it into the stone around him.

Petaru suddenly screamed, the sound cutting out as abruptly as it had started. Havold stepped back to the centre of his protected area, glancing this way and that as he held his staff at the ready. Quattor was not long in coming however, the tendrils of stone fading back to smoke to allow him easy passage before solidifying back to stone behind him.

"Yes, the truly mighty has fallen exceptionally low," the demon sneered, flicking his axe to the side and spattering the blood thereon against the stone around them.

"You have not won yet, demon!" Archmagus Havold snapped, holding the crystal end of his staff levelled at the demon. "As long as one of us still draws breath, we will hunt you down and see you destroyed!"

"Indeed," Quattor growled with disdain. "At least the spirit of the old Tower survives still. Something fun to crush, I guess..."

Quattor screamed. Though he did not augment it with the full strength of his power, it was still enough to cause a severe concussion and devastating internal bleeding. But for all its strength and destruction, it was still a shockwave and the Archmagus brought up his shield in time. However, he presented a flat barrier to the blast and was pushed back, shield and all until he was pressed up against the stone tendrils behind him. For a moment he struggled to hold his Manashape against the extreme onslaught before with a simple thought he bent the shield to present a sharper edge to the demon. The pressure was suddenly reduced significantly as the surface area the scream was able to exert any power on faded to almost nothing. Thinking quickly, Havold went even further, bending his shield in such a way to reflect much of the shockwave back at the demon. As such, he managed to hit Quattor with his own attack, albeit less effective.

Quattor was pushed back as well, though he did not lose his balance again. Havold did not let his advantage go to waste. He attacked immediately, blasting the demon with the strongest wave of fire he was capable of. The flames of the attack had not even faded when he followed up with a shockwave of his own, flicking razor-sharp rock splinters up with a swipe of his staff blasting them at high speed at the demon. Then he stabbed at the badly bleeding demon, lightning crackling at the end of his staff.

But Quattor batted the staff away with the long shaft of his axe just as the Archmagus's staff discharged the lightning, sending the attack wide. Havold was not phased though, still pressing his advantage and swinging the foot-end of the staff at Quattor's face. The demon ducked beneath the pole which was now covered in an ethereal blue flame, but not quick enough. The attack caught his one horn, blasting a third cleanly off and momentarily staggering the demon. Havold shouted in triumph, bashing the head of the staff with all his might at the demon's chest. But though he was off-balance, Quattor managed to bring his polearm up enough to guide the Archmagus's swing wide over his head.

And at that moment when the tables had turned, Quattor struck true. Havold yelped as the shadowy head of the axe was hooked around his ankle, and the leg he was leaning on was yanked out from under him. The staff was sent flying to the side, the aethereal fire flickering out as it clanged to the ground. Even as the equine fell on his back, Quattor followed through, burying the axe head into the Archmagus's chest.

The demon regarded the dying equine dispassionately, allowing the axe which was still buried in his opponent's chest to dissolve along with the impassable tangle of rocks around him.

"Master," a large orc with one eye and a damaged and bloodstained chieftain's crown suddenly called when the shadows retreated again. "We have taken the second gate as well! But there is significant resistance by the dragons holding us up from reaching the third gate. If we don't challenge it now, they will be able to close it again."

"I am not going to open every single door for you," Quattor scowled the orc chieftain, dismissing the leader of the strongest clan north of the Krosg River without so much as a wave of his hand. Instead, he pulled a slab of stone from his upper arm and watched with detached interest as the deep cut closed by itself.

"I know," the orc hesitated, swallowing hard before making his request. "I was hoping Master would be willing to send in Master's pets..."

Quattor examined the staff he had retrieved with a delighted grin, but upon hearing the desperate request he turned to glare at the cowering orc. Yet, the suggestion seemed to please him for he only nodded before turning his attention back to his prize.

***

"The second gate has also fallen, sir!" Jerache shouted, the reddish-brown drake who had taken over Amaren's role as squad leader rising to level out next to the Lúg'hir's son and heir. "Trolls are going for the third!"

"If they take that, all will be lost!" Shella yelped from his back, looking down in desperation as the confused and disorganized army tried to fall back to the innermost section of Juinkarr.

Amaren pulled his gaze away from the ominous, shadowy patch of writhing tendrils that had come over the main gate to look for himself what was going on. Though he knew through his rider's senses that the horde had plugged the second gate effectively, trapping many of those who had been on their way out between the outer two walls, he needed his sharper senses to see exactly what was threatening the last gate.

"Where is the Lúg'hir?" the blackish-green drake asked desperately as his eyes scanned over the chaos beneath them. The horde was spilling out through the second gate with reckless abandon, attacking the soldiers as they turned to flee back to the main plaza. A few platoons had managed to form some kind of defensive line, but they were unable to stop the flood of orcs and goblins and were quickly threatened with complete encirclement as they couldn't muster enough numbers in time to avoid being outflanked.

A group of twelve trolls, however, had managed to break straight through the meagre defences and was rushing headlong at the third and last gate to block it as well. Already the trolls at the very front of the group had reached the gatehouse and were busy scattering a cluster of Black magi there.

"The council is down by the southern end of the outer tier!" Tanya snapped, the brown drake's vulpine rider pointing off into the distance. "They are trying to free up a section of Yellows to get them to safety."

"Jerache, Emihere!" Amaren snapped determinedly. "With me!"

There was a startled squawk from one of the few gryphon-knight who decided to still stick with his squad after the collapse of the Umbrin army, but the black drake ignored him and dove straight for the lead troll. He landed hard on the creature's back, driving it hard onto the road and scattering the cobblestones even more. He finished the monstrosity off with a quick bite to the base of the skull and a violent shake, before leaping clear of the spiked club he had sensed coming from Shella's senses. He had barely gotten clear of his first victim when the rest of what remained of his Battlewing dropped down amidst the other trolls.

"You there!" Shella shouted down at a random Alliance captain who was hurriedly falling back, just as Amaren started to strangle another troll. "Protect our flanks! We cannot allow them past this point!"

For a moment, the lion captain considered arguing against taking orders from anyone outside the Alliance, but he could not deny the logic of the request. In short order, he started gathering up anyone who was passing by, Alliance and Equidae alike and forming them up into lines on either side of where the group of dragons was killing the last of the trolls. And not a moment too soon for even as the lines started to take shape, the group who had been trying to hold back the flood finally broke and the horde flooded onto this terrace as well.

"Can you hold them off for a minute or so?" a horse in black suddenly appeared, shouting up at Shella as Amaren was getting his dragons into order. "We need time to complete fixing these damned brackets"

"What happened?" Shella asked, startled.

"Someone sabotaged us!" the Black magus revealed. "The brackets are misshaped and booby-trapped. If we don't get this fixed, this gate isn't going to close!"

"How much time do you need?" the lupine on the dragon's shoulders growled after a loud curse.

"If we can work in peace, only a minute or so!" another magus assured her.

"Right then," Amaren hissed upset, calling to the dragons and cluster of soldiers with him. "With me!"

Not waiting for a reply, he bounded forward to meet the horde coming at them head-on. He blasted a column of fire at the attackers, scorching the front few rows and temporary blinding those directly behind them just as they came within reach. And then it was a mad battle of claws and blades and spears as the two lines met. Another blast of fire rushed over the horde as a dragon next to his tried to push the horde back a little, but the reprieve was short-lived and the madness continued.

A well-aimed Firedart hit Amaren on the helmet with enough force to dent it somewhat, making it difficult to turn his head to the left to find the responsible goblin. But a big, slimy fireball dropped onto the spot, splashing fire-oil over a large section of the horde and causing them to falter long enough for Gahntuar to land directly next to Amaren.

"How goes it here?" Merec called out to Shella as Gahntuar swiped at an orc captain who tried to rally his troops through example.

"Manageable!" Shella replied, relieved as the rest of the council dropped into position along the line. "But the gate has been sabotaged..."

"What?" Vicia gasped astounded, the Yellow Archmagus sitting behind Merec nearly falling off when the drake had to hop out of the way of an axe.

"But the blacks are already on it!" Shella assured them before anyone could ask for more detail. "They will have it fixed shortly!"

"We need to go hear what is going on!" the Yellow Archmagus growled at Merec.

"Keep up the good work!" Gahntuar managed to give his son a reassuring smile. "Just make sure you are not overwhelmed! Fall back sooner rather than later, understood?"

"Yes sir!" Amaren beamed, though he had to strike out at another orc who tried to get in between the battling dragons.

With a last blast of fire at the horde, Gahntuar disengaged and quickly headed to the ruined gate.

"We've got incoming!" Gharavhan shouted as a fresh squad of trolls appeared from amongst the horde. They snarled momentarily in defiance at the dragons, but the Lúgroccae held their ground and returned the snarl in kind. And then they clashed in a mighty display of raw power. For a moment it seemed as if the Lúgroccae was going to overwhelm the new trolls as well when everything changed.

"Hundur!" a panicked shriek arose from somewhere at the back of the horde. "Zajar hundur!"

The call was quickly picked up by more and more orcs and goblins as they started to scatter out of the way of the Lúgroccae. Even the trolls quickly disengaged to fall back in such a disorganized manner that they nearly caused the horde to rout. Amaren stared bewildered after them even as Gharavhan tackled one of the trolls to the ground and mauled it.

Then, through Shella's eyes, he saw something that had his knees nearly buckle with fear.

They appeared through the second gate, creatures as large as a warhorse that had a vague appearance of feral canines. But unlike the wargs, these creatures were not bulked up with raw strength, instead, they were built lean to be fast and agile. Still, they were powerful in their own right and they came running at the defending Lúgroccae on long, powerful yet slender legs that made them deceptively fast. Their furless, black bodies gleamed in the dim light as they came charging at their favourite prey.

"Kuhiuns!" Amaren yelped in absolute terror as the pack of hellhounds started to spread out. "Up! UP!"

Gharavhan, who was the closest to the feared predator reacted instinctively, blasting the new threat with a powerful cloud of burning fire-oil. However, it was well known that Kuhiuns were immune to dragon fire, the oily sweat on their thick leathery skin protecting them from the short bursts of heat as well as making it impossible for the fire-oil to stick to them. The first Kuhiun burst through the wall of fire, his strong jaws snapping wildly where the brown dragon had been, but the wily drake had cast his fire as a smokescreen and used the momentary blindness of his opponent to escape in an unexpected direction.

A second dragon directly behind the Surface Combat Trainer was not as lucky and even as Amaren turned to flee, he was knocked over by the second Kuhiun. Instantly, two more hellhounds were swarming over the fallen dragon, biting and tearing at the reptile as he kicked and flapped and screamed for help. But there was nothing to be done for him as his armour gave way even as Amaren leapt into the air. A second dragon screamed in terror as she was also overwhelmed just as she was trying to take off. The Kuhiuns who were not busy mauling dragons to death leapt into the air after their prey. Though they did not possess wings like the dragons, the range of their leap proved to be sufficient as they brought three more dragons down.

Amaren yelped in pain as the jaws of a Kuhiun clamped down around his ankle and the added weight brought him back down, hard. The drake kicked at the one who had brought him down, and although his claws found purchase, it was difficult to do more damage to the tough leathery hide of the hellhounds than a nasty scrape. Still, he sent the surprised creature flying and he was free. But he barely had time to get to his feet before three more of the cursed creatures were on him. He batted at one but the second knocked him over again even before he finished swiping at the first. A third yelped in pain as Shella's sword managed to cut deep into the creature's side, but then there was a sheering hot pain over the bond that immediately faded to a burning cold.

Amaren screamed in terror as he was pinned to the ground by the Kuhiuns, snarling and biting and tearing at any exposed bits they could reach. In their bloodthirsty excitement, one unintentionally stomped on his one wing, breaking the upper bone in the flight arm while another had decided the wings were easier targets and was busy ripping the tender membranes to shreds. His frontal pauldron failed first as a Kuhiun managed to get the protective sheet of metal from his shoulders. With his armour compromised, the plackart and the crinet followed in quick succession. In a blind panic now, Amaren blasted his attackers with as much dragon fire as he could muster, but the fire-oil splashed harmlessly off the thick skins as they proceeded to sink their teeth into the soft scales below his legs, his wings, his throat.

On top of Juinkarr's Citadel, Gullivarth roared in fear and anger as his will finally broke.

The great dragon reached out with all of his mental strength as he challenged Quattor directly. With impudence, he yanked control of the very storm above them away from the demon as if the powerful creature that had destroyed the main gate of Juinkarr mere minutes ago had only just begun to learn how to mould Mana, before directing its full power down at the spot where Amaren was being torn apart. There was a powerful roar of thunder as Gullivarth struck. However, lighting was notoriously difficult to use over a distance greater than a few meters as it seemed to have a mind of its own, never striking where it was aimed at and more often than not killing everyone in the vicinity of the target. It was so difficult that even Quattor had not dared to use it directly against the defenders of Juinkarr.

But Gullivarth was no mere mortal or wannabe deity! With pinpoint precision, he directed the lightning across the almost 5 Km between storm and ground. His first bolt struck deliberately off target, killing a wide area of the horde who was just rallying to take the last gate. However, this was meant to scatter the Kuhiuns off the fallen dragons and when they started to retreat, he zapped them one after the other with six more bolts of lightning. Of the twenty Kuhiuns who had responded to the Quattor's summoning, only two escaped the ruins, yelping in terror all the way back to their den, never to set foot near Juinkarr again.

Quattor, feeling the true strength of the dragon sitting on top of the Citadel felt a fear he had not experienced since the days of Unus's death. He turned and fled, running as fast as he could for the main gate. As soon as he was clear of the Aetherfontes's influence, he opened a portal to who knows where and even as Gullivarth's lightning started to strike the ruins of Juinkarr, he was gone.

Gahntuar was by Amaren's side within moments of the last bolt crackling over the battlefield, grabbing a still dazed Kuhiun by the scruff and somehow managing to rip the tough leather hide to shreds.

"Dadth..." Amaren whined, coughing up blood as he tried to roll over onto his chest. "I'm shorry... I didn't..."

"Hush, young one!" Gahntuar crooned, crouching protectively over the fallen drake as he nuzzled his son to calm him down and keep him as still as possible. "You did well, I am so proud of you!"

Not caring who was present to see, he moulded the best healing shape he knew, but his Operaether had run its course and he was only capable of an instinctive healing spell that did little more than soothe the pain.

Merec quickly dismounted from his dragon's shoulders, yelping in agony as the cracked bone in his leg protested. Yet the human pushed through the pain with gritted teeth, crouching by Amaren's side and moulding the shape his dragon had tried to form. It took hold and the blood clotted for a moment and the edges of the wounds started to knit shut. But the damage was beyond anything even the most skilled of the Yellows could heal and he did little more than buying some time for one of the Green masters to reach them.

"Get a Green here, quickly!" Gahntuar shrieked, his voice breaking as he roared out his order.

"Shellga..." Amaren whimpered through his coughs, trying to look for his rider and only ended up tearing his wounds open again. "Where... Shel... I can't... freel..."

Merec swore as he tried a series of smaller shapes to knit the wounds shut like stitching a tear in fabric. But though that seemed to do a better job at stopping the bleeding, it was still not enough.

"Don't talk..." Gahntuar hushed him, purposefully not glancing to the corpse in Amaren's saddle. Instead, he turned around to glare back to the gate. "Where is that FUCKING GREEN?"

"I'm scared..." Amaren whined before he gave one last cough and started to go limp.

"No-no-no!" Gahntuar gasped, shaking his dying son. "Wake up!"

"OUT OF THE WAY!" A roar sounded and Gullivarth appeared, shoving soldiers and dragons out of the way as he rushed up to Gahntuar and Amaren. With barely a thought, he flooded Amaren's limp form with Mana.

"Please no!" Gahntuar whined, sounding almost like a hatchling himself as Gullivarth moulded his Shape again, though more carefully before allowing it to sink into the unresponsive drake's body.

"Let me through!" someone else shouted desperately and a unicorn mare in a green robe managed to push her way through the press of onlookers. But after a quick examination, the Green master only sighed, shaking her head with slumped shoulders.

Gahntuar screamed, a sound filled with raw rage and sorrow that echoed into the distance. Gullivarth followed suit directly after him, as did the dragons of the Lúgroccae in quick succession as they mourned the painful loss of not only the Lúg'hir's son and heir, but all the dragons who had died there since sunset the previous day.

The roars for the departed carried over suddenly eerily quiet battlefield where nothing dared to move and no one was stupid enough to disturb the sombre moment.