Quickie Fiction: Opportunity

The winding tunnels beneath the earth were a sight few would have the opportunity to witness. Fewer still would have the opportunity to watch the very rock and crystals hidden deep within the dark confines of the land slide away and grant one safe passage through them. Acheu traveled rapidly beneath the earth with only the constant beat of his clapping hands and timed intonations.

His journey was echoed by the flight of one saffron dragon that charted a precise course through the now darkening clouds that littered the sky. With each beat of its wings, and every undulation of its serpentine body, Nicodemus soared through the air intent to reach the Seat of Faith as soon as it was possible. The dragon ignored the brimming tears that trailed wandering rivers down its scaled cheeks. It ignored the still existent but rapidly fading presence of Vandross' words in its thoughts. All the dragon knew was that there was no denying Vandross has finally found his Other, and as was the practice of the Faith, Vandross and his Other would have to be tested.

That, and the fact that it meant Nicodemus was no longer to be a part of Vandross' life.

"He will have to face me," Acheu mumbled aloud, even if there was no one around to hear his words. Acheu felt a greater sense of courage, and the pretense of speaking aloud his plans gave him a certain degree of fulfillment. It was a false mask of courage, however. As it was typical of Acheu, such admissions were things he typically could only speak of only though letters. Or through the rumors born from his actions or stories. He was brave so long as there was no one to contradict him. But when it came to face to face confrontations, the truth would always be far too strong for him to twist. But in the solace of the dark tunnel beneath the world which his intonations effortlessly carved, Acheu felt such pronouncements to be empowering words. The confrontation he was bringing himself towards was one that he had long delayed. When questioned, he had many excuses ranging from lacking the necessity to deal with such things immediately, to feeling physically exhausted or under the weather, to even claims that he was the one standing upon a higher moral ground and to act first was to lose that standing. But the truth he would never admit was the fact he was absolutely aware the confrontation would be an admission of his failure in his responsibilities and role as the father of his children. An admission of his inability to provide what was expected of him. And it was an admission Acheu's pride would never allow him to make.

He planned to confront his son, Sunaj, and tell him the world has come to provide him an opportunity to regain honor in the family's name. He planned to tell him that destiny has provided Sunaj a second chance to prove his love for his family.

He could never do so in the past out of the sheer brutal truth that Acheu was fully aware of: Sunaj would not want to. Sunaj would have no reason to do so. Not after the neglect, insult and abuse he had to endure from his father for the last few years when Sunaj still maintained ties with Acheu. Sunaj's choice to cut himself free from Acheu was not an act of cruel malice or vengeful selfishness. It was liberation from abuse and pain. It was freedom from being long imprisoned beside a monstrosity that devoured another's self-esteem.

"This is a real opportunity," Acheu rehearsed into the shadows that blurred past him and imagined Sunaj's reactions. "A real opportunity stands here."

And that was what made today different.

Acheu realized with reports regarding the Other, the Patermaster would truly have the need to confirm and capture this pair. And if Sunaj were to succeed, Acheu's family would truly regain honor and esteem among the Fehbed. To not confront Sunaj today was to waste an opportunity to further Acheu's standing among their people. And Acheu realized that was far more important than his pride.

"They will be tested," Nicodemus mumbled to itself as he sliced through the sky, "and if this... Other is found to be unworthy..." Nicodemus desperately wanted to imagine scenes of triumphant and rightful vengeance. It wanted to visualize a montage of brutally just punishments to be dealt upon this intruding serpent whose green scales lacked the vibrance and beauty of its golden ones. It wanted to bear witness to this unimpressive ursurper being caught as merely some pretender who had through some form of unknown incantation twisted truth and emotion to its liking to deceive and destroy everything that Nicodemus held sacred.

But Nicodemus could not.

In the mindscape, the two dragons had confronted each other and within the undeniable incorruptibility of that psychic communication, Nicodemus had clearly seen it was Vandross' image that shone upon Savat's own soul.

They were.

And Nicodemus knew all it had was empty threats.

But wait.

A growing dot upon Nicodemus mindscape flickered.
A darkness.

Nicodemus realized, an opportunity.
A chance to spin the story in its own favor.
An opportunity to be seen not as the false partner, but instead as the discarded treasure.

Nicodemus realized it was in its power to lie. All it had to do was ensure that others would not have a glimpse of Savati's mindscape. And that, Nicodemus realized, was something far easier to accomplish than others realized.

Quickie Fiction: Help

The two monks moved stealthily, their own shadows chasing after them as they made their separate ways through the winding corridors of the Seat of Faith. When Ammen's dying warning reached their ears, the two monks immediately vocalized messages through the song to each other and communicated a place to rendezvous in secret. Tajuc sent out a staccato message to Nayd and failing to receive any reply realized that the third monk was already dead. Informing Romac of his discovery, Tajuc took a gamble and decided to return to the stables. It was quite unlikely, he reasoned, that the assassin would still be there.

Romac reached the rendezvous point earlier than Tajuc. In a small sack, he had carried with him his personal tuning dagger, some coin and his ragged book of psalms. A member of the Voice of the Faith typically owned such a book; new intonations, harmonies and songs learned would be transcribed in them for review. Fewer more dedicated monks would use it for the more studious study, understanding and the composition of new songs. Romac was one of those who did just that. Quickly opening his book, he skimmed through the pages to search for an experimental piece he had composed that may prove useful against the assassins. Combining the softer chords of Auhm, the harmony of the divine fire with high notes of Vitaesis, Romac had theorized one could create a melody that allowed a person to perceive beyond the normal human range of senses. Heat would become visible to one's naked eye. The assassins were soundless and Ammen's warning suggested they had a mastery of stealth. Romac hoped the melody he had written would work as he had hoped.

Tajuc saw the bloody remains of his friend and fought the urge to rush forward and offer final bitter farewells. There is no time to mourn the dead, he reminded himself and quickly scanned the stables if there was anyone else present. While the other dragons seemed to be contently sleeping in their pens, one dragon was awake and noiselessly observed the monk. Tajuc looked at the bloody wall and saw the senseless markings that were written in his friend's own blood. Looking past the wall, Tajuc saw the party broken pen and the dragon inside that quietly observed him.

"You saw what happened?"

The dragon nodded in response. Tajuc shook his head in disbelief. "And you did not try to help him?"

The dragon smashed its tail against the damaged portions of the cage. A small whirlwind, barely a foot tall, manifested at Tajuc's feet, causing some dust and other trash to swirl.

"The assassin," Tajuc continued his line of inquiry, "You saw what it looked like?"

The dragon undulated its still growing hair. It was, after all, younger than most dragons that were present. Tajuc deciphered the motions and nodded in agreement. "The Kabal. Some rumors say the Kabal is merely a myth. That in truth they are merely guards in fancy clothing. Others whisper of the Kabal as some dark reminder of a painful song the current Hierophant once sang in hopes of further defending the Sea of Faith. You are certain it was one of the Kabal."

The dragon nodded.

Chambers away, Romac completed the melody and felt the winding music begin to coil around him like a reassuring snake. Romac saw his field of vision exponentially become a colorful observation of what he looked at, with varying hues suggesting if a person is gifted, if a weapon was drawn, and if the other was in a good or not too good state of health. That very moment Romac completed the melody, his eyes caught sight of the Kabal assassin literally waiting for him to be too distracted to notice the killing blow. The assassin had blended among the shadows and simply waited for the right moment to strike.

Can't let him know I can see him, Romac reminded himself and tried to stay calm. He knew he too had to wait for the perfect moment to enact his counter stroke.

Tajuc had unlocked the cages of two dragons in the stable. Neither had found their Others nor chosen to share an Onus Bond with a servant of the Faith. The first was an older dragon compared to the one which tried to help Ammen. With scales that mirrored the sky of a coming dawn, hints of purple still mingled among the hues that shifted from red to orange. In a few years, the dragon's saffron hues would shine and come enough summers, become truly golden. Like all the other dragons, its snake-like form defied the fact it was a strong and mighty beast capable of flight. Its wings, like most dragons could spread out from its midsection, each wing the length of its body, or be folded completely compact against its own side, concealing any trace of the beast's ability to fly. It had only two manifested horns upon its head. A second pair had barely erupted from the scales, and were mere bumps upon the scaled head of the beast. Its eyes were like a tiny flame that sought more fuel to grow. Tajuc learned it referred to itself as Adubiem. The second dragon was a full adult, with an armored body that celebrated the hues of steel. Its wings, which numbered six rather than the typical two, were tiny foot long protrusions upon its slender body. Azure eyes set against a dark void peered from its angular face. It named itself Akmati and like Adubiem, it had not ceased to seek its own Other.

"My brother and I seek your service. News had reaches us of one in the Faith who has found his Other. And the Hierophant has reacted in a manner which brings us to question what fate may lie in store for the two. Will you assist us?" Tajuc asked the two dragons, and both dragons glanced at one another, surprised by the monk's forwardness.

There was no hesitation however in their reply. Both signaled yes.

Romac however embraced in his thoughts the word no. While his beard helped conceal the focus in his eyes and fear in his heart, the knowledge of the eventual combat was a bit more obvious in his hands. His fingers trembled with contained anticipation. He was far from weaponless, having long been a practitioner of the Dragon song intonations and harmonies, but he was also well aware that the assassin was someone who was stalking its prey within the Seat of Faith. That certainly defined the assassin to be of considerable skill.

With his song-enhanced perceptions, Romac had noted that the assassin had remained in the same place for the last five minutes. It seemed seemingly preoccupied and reading a tome did not present himself as a viable target. Maybe he needed to present himself a bit more vulnerable. Was it because the Kabal sensed the song he had enchanted himself with? Or was it because he had a tuning dagger close at hand?

Misdirection it seemed would be necessary to further lure the assassin closer.

Romac rose to his full height, leaving both the book of psalms and dagger on the floor. He walked up towards the nearby window and was careful to not move too close and become an easy kill. Romac's intentions after all, was to lure the assassin closer, and not allow himself to become an target easily thrown out the window. He felt the cold rush of wind and pretended to enjoy the view. The assassin still remained still. The lure needed to be more appealing. The target needed to look more vulnerable. Romac decided to risk it and closed his eyes. A moment of prayer. A moment of sleep. Or at least, Romac mused, the assassin would think that was what it was.

He did not anticipate that the assassin was keen enough to see past even that. With a wordless motion, the assassin had signaled his companion to approach from the other side. The Kabal had anticipated Romac to be a far more difficult target and had taken steps to deal with him more efficiently. The scar upon the monk's face, one that was dealt to him by the Patermaster himself, was proof of this. Romac was a survivor in many ways. A warrior more than a monk.

The two assassins closed in for a kill, their deadly weapons ready to sup upon the monk's blood.

Quickie Fiction: Failings

Like a hand reaching for the very moon, four towering obelisks marked the corners of one of the passageways connecting the underground Febhed Confessionarium to the surface. The calm night sky painted above gave no hint to the tremendous events that were unfolding each passing second. Voices carried in the darkness. Orders to maintain formation, to prepare for the mission, to bid farewell to loved ones fluttered back and forth as the gathered Febhed prepared for their mission. Some were clearly experienced warriors, with small scars making their faces and arms with reminders of painful tribulations they had survived before. Others were far to clearly new, stumbling to move into their ranks, or struggling to wear the armor and uniform well. From the sky, the whole scene would have looked like an army of red and black ants were moving about the mouth of a hole leading deep below. Their lack of coordinated order, however, was far too evident.

Pateron Acheu felt the pain in his leg begin to throb again. Ever since that single night he had fallen asleep with his boots on, his leg had been menanced by this intermittent distraction. On worse nights, he could barely apply his own weight upon it. Acheu lifted his leg up, pushing his knee against his chest, then began to knead on the shin and ankle with his hand. He felt the tighteness of his skin. He felt the bumps that marked the presence of his veins. He did not realize how much tired he felt. Or looked.

He stared at his frail-looking hands. The scars on his skin reminded him of the harder days before he rose to the position of one of the Patermaster's chosen. The days when he believed he would be nothing more than a farmer, working for the merchant families that owned the land he was to earn his keep on.

While the rest of the world seemed content to believe in the Ancestral Dragons and their having chosen the Faith to represent them, Acheu lived a childhood that was filled with unspoken questions of why and why not. Each time the Faith would visit the farm which Acheu and his family worked upon to collect the monthly "donations," Acheu would struggle deep inside himself and wonder why their hard labor and sweat bore fruit that had to be shared with the Faith. And each time the Febhed barbarians would "come to assault" the farmlands, Acheu would wonder why there were always a few who would make sure they would leave baskets with bread, milk, and meat before locking the doors to their homes as the Faith have always warned them. It was not until after the merchant Acheu's family had served passed away did he gain a chance to see the other faces of the Faith and the Febhed.

And mind you, by passed away, the merchant did not die a natural death.

"Donato," Acheu motioned at one of the guardsmen nearby and waited for the young soldier to approach. Brown-haired with a face revealing to easily the fact he was barely past fifteen summers, the young man walked up to Acheu, clicked his heels together as he came to a stop a yard from the Pateron, then clamed his right hand against his left bicep in a salute. Donato was dressed in the layered leather and padded chainmail garb. A brown-red overcoat then adorned his shoulders and back. Steel-toed boots and, had the crystal-like face guard been in place, steel gauntlets completed his look, giving him the appearance of a clothed golem. "Proceed with the formations without me."

"Sir?"

Acheu reached towards Donato with an open hand. The soldier took it, shifted his weight, to assist Acheu as he rose from his chair. The Pateron then intoned a basic note and the chair unbuilt itself and submerged into the earth.

"Our contingent is to proceed without me. You will be in charge," Acheu pronounced.

"But father-" Donato gasped, "I cannot-"

"Donato." His firm voice silenced further complaints from his own son. Acheu knew where the fear was coming from, after all. He knew more than just what Donato was thinking of. He knew Donato was right. The boy was too young to manage the contingent on his own. He was not due to do so, if only his brother had not abandoned the Febhed Guard and chosen the less honorable path of a mercenary. But after leaving the Guard to raise his children on his own, then seeing them massacred by the scavengefolk, Sunaj had lost faith in both the Febhed's ability to protect them and the Faith's embrace towards predestination. Though Acheu suspected Sunaj would return, he had thought then all his eldest son needed was a gentle push back. Acheu did not realize the scavengefolk he had led to the town would be so vicious. Nor that they would actually fail to be stopped in time. Acheu's plans of arriving in the nick of time to save Sunaj's town and family fell apart, and pushed Sunaj further away. Faced with the empty poisiton, Acheu had no choice by to have his other son take the post. It would have been far more embarassing to have the post empty.

It would have made him look weak.

Acheu tried to explain to Sunaj. The Febhed could not protect his family in time, because they were too distracted by the Faith. In some ways, Acheu merely wanted to spin things around in a direction he prefered. But in other ways, he was trying to convince himself that the deaths of his grandchildren were not the result of his own actions.

Acheu knew Donato was his only hope to recover some of the self-respect that had been lost. But Acheu also knew that this hunt for the dragon offered a different level of opportunity. Among the Febhed, finding a dragon that could communicate fully with a human without resorting to the Faith's reliance on the Dragon Song was proof that the Faith was no longer favored by the Ancestral Dragons. That the Faith might no longer even be necessary.

"Simply echo the commands of the nearest contingent. The Patermaster wants this army mobilized."

Donato nodded, although his eyes clearly showed his worry.

"Your contingent will be part of three others. The Patermaster will have you and the Ruby contingent on the flanks. While the rest of the contigents take down the Faith dragonrider and his steed, you and Ruby contigent shall focus on capturing the emerald dragon."

"I understand father, but I've never-"

"You will capture the dragon alive, Donato. And I shall expect you to pay attention. Note any opportunity to be the very one who successfully captures the dragon. The Patermaster must be impressed by your achievement."

"But I-"

"Donato," Acheu grabbed his son's shoulder so suddenly, Donato's audibly gasped. "Do what you have to do. Sunaj has embarassed our line long enough among the Febhed. He has traded his love for the family and his loyalties to the Patermaster for the lure of coin and the lusts of his adventuring whore. You have to undo what he has done to us. Do you understand me, Donato? You have to."

"I understand father," Donato inhaled sharply to steel himself, "But where are you going?"

Acheu shook his head as a reply. His hand loosened its grip on Donato. And by the time he started to walk away from Donato, his son had long realized his father did not answer because he did not want his own son to know.

Quickie Fiction: Threats

Nicodemus crumbled to the ground as spasms of pain shot through the saffron dragon. Searing pain moved like slithering barbed wire through its body as the woven magic forced the dragon to pull away. Through the Onus Bond, Vandross felt his dragon's suffering, twisting and coiling through his chest like a raging tornado of broken glass and fangs that wanted to break free. The two did not expect that the mercenaries were that skilled both in the ways of combat and the harmonies of the Dragon Song.

The two had remained deep within cloud cover when they spied Sunaj and his female companion. The dwarf was sipping the simmering broth while his female companion simply stood by his side and waited. Vandross had barely scanned the area for Savati when he realized the green dragon was not too far away, clearly illuminated by torchlight. Was this a trap laid for them? Vandross weighed the idea in his mind. He was not aware of anyone who sought for him personally, save perhaps the Febhed he had encountered some time ago. It was not too far a stretch to consider that Pateron had hired these mercenaries to hunt him down.

With a heel tap, Vandross signalled Nicodemus to descend. He had locked both knees against Nicodemus' horns and drawn his bow and armed it with two strands plucked from Nicodemus' head. Nicodemus sliced its claws against the wind as they descended, and created a whirlwind that cushioned their fall while swirling soil and loose leaves about in a blinding cloud that announced their arrival.

"I am Vandross, Dragonrider Archer of the Faith-"

Vandross had barely finished announcing his presence when he realized the blinding cloud Nicodemus had sung had too rapidly dispersed into the winds. The next sight Vandross saw was the muscular short man cutting through the winds seconds before a tattood fist slammed into his face.

Blood.

Vandross tasted blood dripping out from between his clenched teeth. His lower lip had popped open from Sunaj's punch. How the dwarf had leapt the distance from the ground to Vandross standing upon Nicodemus' back, the archer did not know. What he knew now, for certain, was that these mercenaries were dangerous.

And the woman knew how to compose with the Dragon's Song.

Alucita continued to stroke her fingers in the sequenced fashion that plucked the tones of the Harmony that combined the tones of fire and water. The resultant vibrations were rapid riffs of pain that burned through the circulatory system of living targets. The victims would feel their blood rush in unpredictable directions, vessels bursting from the stress as their heart struggles to maintain its steady rhythm. The Harmony known as Vitaesis.

It was a deadly Harmony. One even the Faith was loathe to teach, or allow to be practiced. But being the child of the Hierophant, Alucita learned, had its advantages. The gifts of comprehension that the Ancestral Dragons granted the Hierophant, in some strange symbiotic way, also reached her.

Sunaj landed a few feet away from where Vandross had struck the ground. The archer tried to shake the stars out of his eyes but he recovered far too slow. A heavy boot smashed harshly into Vandross' stomach, followed by a solid blow from Sunaj's knee into his face. Vandross nearly blacked out from the powerful strikes. Clamping down the urge to give in, Vandross forced his eyes open and on the last moment, kicked off the ground in time with a whistled intonation. The air picked up and lifted him from the ground, allowing Vandross to dodge Sunaj's next assault. Suspended in the air for a brief second, Vandross twisted his left arm to flick his bow into a new configuration. The bones and musculature moved, snapping into place and transforming the bow into a shield like framework that enclosed his arm. As the string of the bow began to rapidly weave through the frame into a netted skin, Vandross peered at his attacker and discovered the source of his immense strength.

His tattoos.

The lines and markings looked abstract enough. The angled corners and the soft curves. But Vandross was a man whose gaze studied patterns well - the routes a target may attempt to escape, the path through the forest that a running target may attempt to use, the areas of cover where a rival archer may be preparing to strike back from - and in the scant moments he looked down at Sunaj he realized what the tattoos were.

They were an autographed notation of Vitaesis. The written score of a Vitaesis harmony meant to increase one's strength. A permanent tune seared into the man's skin.

"Stop this!" Vandross screamed as he fell, but using the shield configuration of his ivory bow, timed his parry of Sunaj's next punch, to redirect the fall into a roll to the side. A flick once again reconfigured the shield into a bow, but this time its configuration was meant for smaller range. "You are both Febhed. The truce demands we cease hostilities."

"This isn't hostilities," Sunaj laughed and charged forward. Each step he took to rush towards Vandross left a tiny crater on the ground. He swung his fists at Vandross, twice missing as Vandross timed his dodge to plant a foot on Sunaj's knee, then whistled once more to kick off and leap into a high arc into the air. From there, Vandross launched the two arrows he had plucked earlier from Nicodemus' back. The arrows unfurled as they sailed in the air, then entangled to each other as they erupted into numerous shooting threads that converged upon Sunaj in the form of a net. Sunaj pulled against the strands but found that they stretched with his motions, then using the contained energy, sprung back to pull him against the ground. The salty tang of blood in his lips concerned Vandross far less than the jolts of pain that he could feel from the Onus Bond. He spun to face the direction where Nicodemus was and allowed the ivory bow to reconfigure itself back into its default setting. "Stop now, Febhed Pateron," Vandross threatened and pointed the bow at the woman in the distance. It was easy even at that distance to see the bow had no arrow notched to it, but Vandross maintained his threatening stance.

"Alucita," the woman called back, "Huntsman. I would sooner throw myself down to be devoured by the mantis colonies here than kneel before the Patermaster and be chosen."

"Let my dragon go," Vandross growled.

"Your bow has no arrow," Alucita teased.

"I will ask one last time. You do now want to test me," Vandross maintained his stance.

Alucita's eyes narrowed. Was this Dragonrider Archer mad? Did he truly hope to intimidate her with an empty bow? Was there some song that the Archers now practiced which made their weapons deadly even without the presence of an arrow?

"Let my dragon go," Vandross gave the final warning.

Alucita stopped the movement of her fingers. Nicodemus gave out a sound that clearly reflected a respite from the pain. The dragon remained on the ground, catching its breath. Vandross slowly walked towards Nicodemus, all the while keeping the bow trained at Alucita. The Huntsman eyed him whimsically. The smile on her face clearly showed she did not fear him. For a moment, Vandross pondered if she was actually mad.

"The pain will pass," Alucita offered, but saw only Vandross scowl in return. "The Harmony I used was meant to hinder it. Not kill it. Killing songs are far easier and quicker to use."

The words were the last thing Vandross wanted to hear. He raised the bow again and let the string go. Alucita felt something whip past her face. She jerked back instinctively as a sharp searing pain sliced into her cheek. Drawing her hand away from her cheek, she saw it was stained with a line of blood.

"How-"

Vandross reached Nicodemus, slid his arm around its head, and tried to wake it. The dragon stirred a bit, but did not open its eyes.

Quickie Fiction: Something Brewing

The fire crackled against the breeze, sending glowing embers into the sky. Sunaj dipped the metal spoon into the simmering broth and sampled a bit of the soup. Realizing it still lacked the saltiness he preferred, he then pinched a bit more salt from the small jar set beside him and rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the pot.

Sunaj missed simple joys like this. Back in his hometown, Sunaj was a cook. And a husband of seven children. The gratification of combining different flavors and ingredients into a succulent meal was one of the two things Sunaj derived pleasure from. And hearing the joy of his children's voices as they relished the meals he made was the other.

Who would have known that the memory of hearing each child cheer and squeal in delight as Sunaj revealed each gastronomical delight would be replaced by the horror of hearing them pleading for their lives.

A wild band of scavengefolk assaulted the town one evening. The town crier ran through the streets, calling out for alarm as the band charged past the walls. Like rabid wolves, the scavengefolk tore through the streets and attacked anyone they came upon. Teeth, sharpened nails and vicious fists tore flesh and drew Febhed blood without mercy. Sunaj fought valiantly to protect his own family, taking down seven of the scavengefolk with his bare hands. The eight, however, was skilled in Fire Chants, and using the secret words of power that allowed one to manipulate fire, the scavengefolk was able to invoke the burning walls of the hut nearby to rise up like a swelling tower of churning flame, then dive, striking like a deadly viper. The assault struck the ground between Sunaj's feet, missing him by a few inches. The dwarf moved, leaping away from the rising flames, then ducking beneath a second strike to weave in and clamp both bleeding hands upon the scavengefolk's neck. He squeezed, feeling the muscle and bone strain beneath his grasp.

The scavengefolk, seeing in Sunaj's eyes that the Febhed planned to kill him, retaliated in the best way to possibly distract the enemy. Pulling against Sunaj's fingers just enough to gasp for air, the scavengefolk barked out the four syllables necessary to redicted the serpent of fire. It was only when his children began to scream in fear that Sunaj realized the flaming serpent had been directed to wrap around the very home where his children safely hid. And that moment when Sunaj turned to see the house catch fire, the scavengefolk wiggled free an arm enough to grab a nearby rock, and smash the rock into Sunaj's very face.

Sunaj fell, the pain overwhelming both self-preservatino and the need to do something to save his children.

By the time he had awoken, the town was in ashes, the burnt bodies were no longer smoldering, and a small note was left on his chest by the scavengefolk. He had been left alive on purpose. The sole survivor in the whole town.

The pain of loss could have defeated Sunaj that moment. It could have eroded all sense of meaning or joy in his life. It could have been the beginning of self-blame and weakness. But instead, it became a reason not to give up. It became a reason not to grow weak. It became a reason to find himself and become a stronger person, even if he never knew himself to be weak.

To the very least, Sunaj realized, he would be an even better person; he would become a person his children, wherever they may now be, would be proud to have call as their father.

"More salt," Alucita suggested as she walked up towards Sunaj. She had seen his expression change the moment the spoon touched his lips.

"Yes," Sunaj smiled. Part of him recalled how Alucita entered his life, but the act of musing over that meeting for now had to wait. He noticed Alucita was walking with one hand already holding her echoblade. The curved blade had the shape of the cross-section of a vicious wave of tempered steel. Both sides were sharpened into effective cutting edges. Small holes could be found across its body, acting as finger holes to grasp the weapon safely. It was meant to be used as a defensive edged melee weapon, but skilled users were also aware how to weild the device as a boomerang and like its namesake, the echoblade would always spin back towards the original thrower, slicing through the air with dangerous ease. "More salt would have been nice. We are out of time?"

"Unless you think blood could be a good substitute for salt," Alucita gave a mock smile and nodded, suggesting Sunaj look upwards, "They are here. "

Quickie Fiction: Truth

"This is unacceptable," Tajuc's words erupted out from his lips heavily coated with frustrated anger. His hands trembled in contained rage, causing the golden cuffs to shimmer in the darkness. His cheeks flushed as he stared at the three other Voices of the Faith that were in the room with him. One of the other monks speedily moved to the nearest window and pulled the shutters closed. Another walked towards Tajuc with his arms extended forward, in a futile attempt to calm his fellow monk down. But Tajuc could not be brought to quiet down. The third quietly stood there, hands crossed over his chest. News had reached him of the Hierophant's actions born from the confession he had given some days back. And rumors of the presence of Febhed mercenaries within the Seat of Faith spread like a virulent disease. The halls of the Seat of Faith were sanctified, kept unblemished in fear of destroying its eternal resonance to the Dragon's Song. For the Hierophant to allow other people, particularly Febhed mercenaries, into its sheltered chambers was unthinkable.

"Tajuc, calm down," Ammen whispered in his croaky voice. Damaged from years of preaching the Dragon's message upon the faithful, Ammen was the oldest among them in the room. "Calm down.. the Ancestral Dragons themselves would wake from your ranting. The Hierophant surely has his reasons."

"I confessed the matter to the Hierophant due to the simple fact that if the dragon my friend Vandross claims to have seen is truly his Other, then the Hierophant will have to confirm its existence."

"But an Other," Nayd hushed from the shuttered window, "Tajuc. An Other? Not even my grandfather ever spoke of his generation having seen one."

"Confirmation," Tajuc sighed with his voice growing heavier with each frustrated second, "The Hierophant has to confirm its existence. Our very tenets speak of how the Onus Bond exists merely to bind us with our dragonkin until two souls completed by each Other return to show us the way. If Vandorss is right about this dragon, this is an event for all of the Faith to celebrate. It would be a time when we all feel the Onus lifted."

"And the Hierophant," Nayd shook his head, "And on that time, you do remember what happens to the Hierophant."

The monks stared at Tajuc whose face began to express a clear comprehension of what was happening. His hands cupped his own face as he began to pace back and forth as the realization struck home. The Hierophant was to confirm the Other, and if found true, was to step down from his place upon the Seat of Faith and be the first of many to listen to the words of the Whole. The Whole was to teach all how to no longer rely merely on the burdens of the bond and truly find one another. It was said to have happened before, a long terrible time ago before the Faith was established. But was said to happen again. Some postulate the event is a cycle, that there is upon long forgotten unrecorded history been periods where a Whole generation exists in tranquility and peace. Others say it was how things always were, before the Ancestral Dragons and man were separated by lesser things. And the coming of the Whole was the first step into returning into that perfected state of existence.

"The Hierophant," Tajuc shook his head. "Was I wrong? Is it not our duty to report such an event?"

The third monk finally spoke, revealling his face as he drew his hood back. A scruffy beard covered his chin. A widening scar marked his face, starting thin as a needle on his left temple, then growing into an inch-wide blemish that slashed across his left eye, nose ridge and right cheek. It was an old long-ago healed wound. "Perhaps, it was your duty.. but only after confirming it yourself. The Hierophant now fears losing all. Perhaps selfishly. Perhaps for the good of the Faith. He has called for the Febhed to hunt for the dragon. Maybe to keep the investigation secret. Or maybe to ensure it succeeds. Ultimately, we cannot simply stand by idly to see what fruit shall be born from all this."

" Romac is right," Tajuc stared at his fellow monk, "We can't. Not when the Hierophant has chosen to rely on the Febhed for something this important. Ammen, head for the stables. Prep our own dragons. Nayd, visit quickly the Arsarmarium. We will need weapons."

"And you, Tajuc?" Romac asked boldly, "Are you certain you are ready to do this?"

"The Faith expects no less from-"

"Vandross is your friend."

Tajuc realized what Romac had implied. The role of the Other was tremendously important in the Faith. False claims of such were not taken lightly. If proven to be false, Vandross would to the very least be excommunicated from the Faith. At worst, be made a living example of.

"Truth."

Romac nodded.

"The truth is always worth the risk."

The four monks exited the room. They were not to rejoin until much later in the night, when the four took to the skies on their secret crusade.

Quickie Fiction: Aroma

Nicodemus soared through the winds, feeling the currents of air keeping him aloft, as he carried Vandross through the clouds. The archer peered through the feathery mist and surveyed the horizon for any sign of the emerald dragon. Nicodemus felt in the pit of its stomach the pangs of guilt for feeling jealous. It felt the shame for having acted in the way it had. Though its logical mind cried out that i had not reacted in any unexpected illogical manner, Nicodemus could not help but feel that its selfishness should have been tamed in some manner.

It was not Nicodemus' nature to be selfish. For the longest of times, Nicodemus has known itself to have been devoted to his Onus Bonded rider. It had used its own body as a shield in the past to protect Vandross from incoming arrows. It had survived without food and water and acted as a shelter from the unforgiving rays of the sun when they once found themselves marooned in the middle of some desert. And most of all, it had chosen the young man when he so desperately wanted to form a bond with a dragon, even if for Nicodemus, one human was no different from any other (a belief which Nicodemus, not long after learning to socialize with Vandross, learned to be an unfair generalization upon the human race.)

But now, Nicodemus couldn't help but wonder if that choice made so long ago was a choice it was now to regret having made.

As the landscape beneath them shifted from sands into green, Vandross' keen eyes caught sight of a glow in the distance. Closing his eyes, he focused his attentions instead on his olfactory senses and inhaled deeply. Meticulously, he took note of each and every scent in the air and began to categorize them. It was a skill that he had learned to master as a child.

"Leaf. Green. Wood..."

Each scent painted a picture in his mind's eye that matched the scene before him. But with his eyes closed , he was forced to decipher the scene through smell alone.

"Water. Wet grass. Old wood...."

It was a training he had received as one of the Faith's Dragonrider Archers. While sight had its limitations when weather and illumination came into play, smell on the other hand was a perceptive option that a dragon could help enhance. Through slight manifestations of the Dragon's song, a dragon could draw the air from miles away closer, and through their intense and for some almost maddening training, a Dragonrider Archer of the Faith could learn to dissect the air into key scents in order to paint an accurate picture of the lay of the land.

"Smoke. Ashes. Embers..."

Few were aware of this training method and assumed that all Dragonrider Archers of the Faith were gifted with some supernatural sense of sight. Others mistakenly assumed the archers carried with them spyglasses or telescopes. A few even spread malicious rumors that the archers had stolen the eyes of other dragons and through some dark magic now use them as their own.

"Chicken broth," Vandross opened his eyes. Nicodemus felt the slight tap of one foot against its scales. Slowing its flight, Nicodemus awaited for Vandross' new orders.

The rich salty aroma of chicken broth suggested many things. The obvious was that down below, the source of light was indeed a campsite and that the broth was being prepared as a meal. Vandross, however, was far more skilled than most and discerned more details from the smell alone. He recognized that the chicken was well cooked, easily suggesting the camp had been set up for quite some time. The spices in the broth included ginger, black pepper and Ossusi horseradish, and the latter was an expensive spice. This suggested those camped were most likely a merchant family traversing the dangerous land for some excitement. However, the fact that chicken broth alone was what Vandross smelled made it clear this was no merchant safari. Which narrowed it down to a smaller group, capable of affording expensive fare, traveling in this dangerous place.

"Mercenaries," Vandross declared. "Take to the sky higher, Nicodemus. We fly towards that light. However, keep within cloud cover. We might have Febhed down below."

Nicodemus gave a low growl. Vandross patted the dragon's neck to calm it.

"Savati is there," Vandross nodded, "Don't ask me how I know. I just know it."

Quickie Fiction: Demands

Crystals hummed as the old wizened hands of the Patermaster drifted above them. Black tourmaline rods vibrated as invisible waves of energy grew within them. Clear quartz bars began to emit a growing azure glow. Gemstones glimmered in the nearly completely dark chamber while the Patermaster continued his chained intonations, carefully bringing forth one tone after the other to enact what the Febhed referred to as the Earthen Confessional. The ritual was one which only the Patermaster was able to accomplish. Through the successive intonations of various earth elemental tones, the Patermaster creates a subliminal drones that would resonate to other nearby elemental tones. The longer the Patermaster can sustain the harmonic resonance, the further the echoing drones spread out to even further and further echoes. During this ritual, the Patermaster gains snippets of information of anything that transpires in the surrounding area of these drones. Impressions of what objects, persons or events are present in the vicinity of the drones reach the Patermaster's senses. Even tricks of invisibility and magics that delude the senses are foiled by the Earthen Confessional, so long as there was contact with the ground at the moment the drones resonated through the area. Theoretically, the Patermaster could "spy" on the whole world, given enough stamina and time to maintain the echoes that long.

"The dragonrider attacked me!"

The Patermaster felt his brow tighten in irritation as he heard the angry outburst from one of his Paterons. It was child's play for him to single out which Pateron was complaining out loud even as the Earthen Confessional began to unravel from the disrupted harmonics. Among the many Paterons present, the Patermaster turned his attentions on the Pateron whose head and body were bandaged in some areas. Hints of dried blood on the bandages suggested the wounds have yet to fully heal.

With a soft intonation to have all the crystals retract back into the earth, the Patermaster rose from his earlier meditative position and allowed his brownish red robes to straighten with the pull of gravity. The hematite jewelry that adorned his wrists and neck clattered softly against each other as he reached upwards and pulled back his hood to reveal his bald tattooed head. Tattoos covered most of the Patermaster's skin, using inks of powdered crystals, iron oxides and clay. The marks showed the geometric beauty of the various minerals although most who percieved the marks merely thought they visually seemed mathematically artistic. Not a single strand of hair remained on his body, with even his eyebrows and eyelashes having long been lost by age and time. The Patermaster's light blue eyes completed his image, contrasting against his darkened skin and tired expression.

"I call for justice! That dragonrider broke the truce between our people!"

"Be at ease, Pateron Acheu. The Patermaster heard you the first time," a nearby Pateron tried to appease the angry one, but instead received scathing glances in return. It was clear that Pateron Acheu hoped to be allowed to deliver some level of vengeance. Some however suspected the Pateron was in some way the instigator in the truce's disruption. His attitudes towards laws and authority was known by most to be... lacking.

"That dragonrider shot an arrow at me!"

"I am certain you feel your life was adequately threatened to merit the demand for action, Pateron Acheu," the Patermaster finally spoke, silencing every one else the moment he spoke. "And I am appalled as well at the loss of life of our people, an even greater transgression which some how you have overlooked to complain about."

Pateron Acheu hoped to speak in his own defense, but an initial attempt to speak was met with the Patermaster's gaze. Acheu new better than to say anything further.

"I shall send a messenger to the Seat of Faith and deliver word of our concern. The Hierophant shall learn of this transgression and will be certain to determine a just punishment to be enacted upon your attacker. Do you have a name?"

Acheu struggled to recall if any name was spoke. Thinking back of that fated day, he recalled how the archer had threatened to kill him (the thought of the other Febhed with him dying was far from Acheu's concerns) and how he was ordered to use the magics his Patermaster had taught him to free the dragon he had captured. Even until now, he could not fathom why the dragonrider would go to such lengths to rescue the emerald wyrm, considering the rider already was Onus Bonded to the saffron beast.

As the memories flood back to him, Acheu began to recall a few more details of that day. The Pateron had uncovered that the infamous pirate Mesin had a fancy for gemstones and had plans of punishing the thief for the manipulations and losses it had bequeathed upon Acheu's travelling monks. Acheu posed as a travelling merchant caravan and proved an irresistable lure to Mesin, especially when he began "showing off" the fist-sized gemstones that he had reputedly for sale. The emerald dragon spied the enormous rock from the sky, and in true fashion, landed at the deck ready to reappropriate the jewel from the humans. The Febhed allowed Mesin to walk close enough to take the gem, then on the Pateron's signal charged into batter her into unconsciousness. Caught unawares, the brawl kept Mesin from being able to focus and misdirect her foes with Maya until she was overwhelmed and brought low.

Mesin reverted back to her dragon form, much to Acheu's horror. Though the truce permitted Acheu to do as what he desired to the dragon, the Pateron actually had high respects for such magnificent creatures. In many ways, he too envied the Onus Bond and wished it were possible to forge one with such frightening beasts. He intoned onto the ground and buried her, hoping that the dragon would sleep its silent sleep and only awaken with little memory of what had happened.

But then, they came.
The Saffron dragon and its archer rider. With little effort the two fought Acheu and forced them to surrender the emerald dragon to them. And as the earth peeled back its layers to reveal the emerald dragon they had captured, Acheu remembered the dragon's words.

"Vandross, Patermaster. The archer's name is Vandross."

"The Hierophant shall be expected to compensate us for our loss. A total of how many monks were lost in the fight?"

Seconds passed. A full minute.
The Patermaster turned to look at Acheu and realized the Pateron was lost in his own thoughts. Glancing at the other Paterons, the gathered chosen simply shrugged and motioned that none of them had done anything to silence him. One motioned to his companions that maybe Acheu had lost his mind.

"Pateron Acheu," the Patermaster asked again, "A total of how many monks were lost?"

"Spoke."

"Acheu?"

"The dragon," Acheu gasped aloud, with one hand moving to shield his wide open mouth. A bead of sweat suddenly erupted on Acheu's temple, precariously clung on to the corner of his eyebrow, before failing against the pull of gravity. "The dragon spoke."

All the Patersons gasped now, realizing the significance of this detail. All dragons were unable to speak. It was only through the dragon song, which those of Faith could interpret, that they could be understood. The Febhed, on the other hand, had another means. Through the vibrations of the earth and the collective web of memory that is embedded onto the earth, a Pateron could decipher communicatio"n of two parties so long as one side is using a language the Pateron can understand. Some believed the Pateron would use the understood language as a foundation of deciphering the context of the other's words, but this would not explain how even concepts that were not familiar to the Pateron would be deciphered. Others assumed it had to do with the adage that the earth had witnessed everything before and will witness everything again, and through their connection to the earth, such knowledge may be tapped.

"The dragon spoke," the Patermaster repeated as if to help him consider the ramifications of that fact, "and this Vandross. He understood its words?"

"Yes," Acheu replied, and his face was turning far paler than earlier. The other Paterons were shaking their heads in concern. All knew what this suggested. None had the courage to say it out loud.

"You are absolutely certain of this?"

"Yes, Patermaster," Acheu admitted, "And I am now shamed to realize this only now. I should have realized it then and there. I should not have allowed the dragon to escape."

"Acheu.. Acheu.. Acheu..." the Patermaster shook his head and planted one hand on the Pateron's cheek, "That was no mere green dragon." Acheu nodded, his eyes wet with tears now at having realized the immensity of his failure. He had not only shamed the Febhed with his actions. He had shamed the Patermaster, being one of his very chosen.

"That dragon," the Patermaster alone could say what the rest feared to speak aloud, "is the one the Febhed have been waiting for, for a very, very, very long time."

Quickie Fiction: Harmony

The amber sands of Summe were a large stretch of territory outside the domains of both the Faith and the Febhed. Found at the far eastern side of the continent, the land was known to be a beautiful region of beach lands, forests and mountain ranges. Almost like an island locked inside a continent, Summe was once considered a beautiful vista for the wealthy and affluent who wished to escape the rush and toil of their daily lives.

But unfortunately, such untamed beauty carried with it an equivalent price: wild and deadly creatures stalked the region. From the tiny colonies of poisonous mantis whose carnivorous tastes include stalking down elephants and rhinos, to the vicious sabegans whose monkey-like bodies provide terrifying adaptability and mobility to thier deadly saber-toothed jaws. Many touring noblemen would hire numerous Febhed mercenaries and bodyguards to watch over them during their vacations, and quite a number of such excursions would end with at least the loss of a few lives and damaged property.

Vandross and Nicodemus soared above the golden sands. It was only after some delay, Nicodemus had agreed to search for the emerald dragon and Vandross could not help but worry that the decision had come too late. Nightfall had began to paint the horizon dark and there was no sight of the emerald dragon's passage.

* * *

Rocks fell dangerously too close to Savati's face as the earth folded away like a massive blanket. The surge of fresh air stirred Savati back into consciousness as the emerald dragon found itself opening its tired eyes to the blurry image of a man and his saffron steed. The emerald dragon recalled the heavy chains and hooks that were employed to force it down and stretched its painful limbs upon realizing that such binds were no longer there.

"Vandross," the emerald dragon called out but instead realized what it was seeing was merely images of a similar time in the past. Where the man and the dragon stood instead was a burly dwarf of a man who held a large filled bucket in one hand. Savati was not in some earthen tomb. Instead, the dragon was laid upon a makeshift bed of leaves and moss. Not far from where Savati lay came the trickling sounds of a gentle waterfall. A rockface nearby had provided some wall against the strong winds, and at its foot, a pool too small to be a lake but too large to be a pond provided some fresh water. Though there were no heavy chains or barbs or hooks holding the dragon down, Savati noticed a glimmering thread that was looped around its body. The thread had no physical presence, and an attempt to tug at it lead to Savati wondering if it was merely some kind of light cast upon its scales.

"It is to keep you from escaping," a stocky fellow by the waters' edge admitted as he drew a wooden bucket from the water. He made his way back towards Savati, walking calmly as if Savati was merely some guest rather than some captive. He then dug into his side pocket and drew out a small bar of minty smelling soap. "The boss and I had some trouble finding you at first, until we realized you were good at hiding thanks to your knowledge of Maya. Too bad for you, the boss knows a thing or two herself."

Savati tried to rise up upon its hindlegs, but that moment the glowing thread shifted into a menacing red hue. An immense feeling of weight suddenly clamped down upon Savati and forced the dragon to catch itself with his four limbs. The pressure continued to grow more and more intense, as if some invisible hand was adding more and more weights atop the dragon's back.

"Stop," Savati growled, but then realized the man could not hear his words. All the man heard was the gutteral sounds emerging from the dragon's throat. "STOP!" The weight pressed on more and more. Savati felt its claws beginning to sink into the makeshift bed. The pull was becoming so strong it was painfully crushing the dragon.

"If you stop fighting against it," Alucita suggested as she walked towards the two. In her hands, she carried a folded brown towel. "The more you resist, the more the force grows."

Savati felt the growing painful pressure and closed its eyes to hold the pain inside. The woman had stopped barely a yard from Savati and had begun to unravel the towel in her hands. Her companion then motioned to the darkness beyond the torch light and mumbled something about keeping watch.

Tears were welling in Savati's eyes. The crushing grasp of the stranger's enchanted thread was terribly strong now that the dragon could barely draw breath. The bed itself began to crack as the branches snapped and the whole area began to sink against the earth.

"Savati," Alucita called out to the dragon, "Stop fighting."

The dragon stopped, not because the woman had told it to, but because it had suddenly realized that the woman knew its name. That very moment, the threads ceased all pressure and reverted into their harmless glimmering hue.

"How do I know your name?" Alucita smiled, "Well, the fact of the matter was, I didn't. I simply called out to you. But you heard your name, because you knew what it was. A simple trick of Maya which I am surprised you didn't recognize."

Savati stared at the woman. The idea that this woman was aware of Maya, a rare ability among dragons, was hard to fathom. The fact that she claimed to have used it was harder still. Alucita seemed to read Savati's gaze too easily and continued, "Maya is but one of the many Harmonies of the Dragon's songs. Just as the Febhed have learned the Earth intonations, each elemental intonation is but a smaller aspect of the Dragon's Song. And Maya is a Harmony, a combination of two or more intonations. Just as Pratensis, the most common among dragon Harmonies is a combination of Earth, Air and Water intonations."

"We have a lot to discuss, and to be quite frank, there are a lot of things I would like to know more about you before I deliver you to our employer. I can assure you, however, that you will not be harmed. But if need be, my associate and I will defend ourselves," the woman opened the towel now, holding it wide like a curtain for Savati, "In the mean time, clean yourself. The water is from a nearby stream. The soap is from Tahara. You had a nasty fall when we snared you. You can even assume a more human form if you prefer. The thread binding you only inhibits intentions to commit acts of violence or escape."

Savati quietly pulled itself closer and invoked on Maya to transform itself into the human form of Mesin. She then reached for the bucket and soap and looked up at the mercenary woman who had begun to intrigue her. "Mesin," Savati offered as her name as she began to wash the dust and sands off her face.

"Meeting you is a welcome experience, Mesin. I am Alucita. My associate is Sunaj. "

"Why?" Savati asked as she began to wash her hair clean.

"A very influencial man wishes to meet you. There was mention that you were of some great importance."

"Vandross?"

"Who?" Alucita shook her head slightly, finding the name unfamiliar.

"Nothing," Savati mumbled.

Alucita then gave Savati the towel and suggested, "Get some sleep. We won't be leaving til some time when the sun has risen. Again, try nothing stupid and you will be unharmed. Don't bother trying to walk out of the camp either. Sunaj and I are expert trackers." Savati nodded and pulled the towel around her tighter.

"Oh and Mesin," Aluctia gave a smile, "I know Mesin is just an alias for that form. When you believe you can trust me, I would appreciate your real name." Alucita's smile faded before heading off to where Sunaj had gone. The dragon watched as Alucita walked beyond the glow of the torch left behind and found herself wondering what tommorow may bring.

Quickie Fiction: Face

A hundred flickering tongues of fire danced in chaotic unison as the robed figure of the Hierophant made his way down the illuminated corridor. Embraced by the Faith as the spiritual figurehead and burdened with the task of managing differences and handling decisions that may concern the populace, the Hierophant was believed to be the sole human chosen by the Ancestral Dragons to represent their very presence upon the land. The Hierophant was said to bear an Onus Bond with every Ancestral Dragon that exists.

Among the Voice of the Faith, the Hierophant exists more as a settler of disputes and a representative of the Faith's strength and principle. Upon the death of the previous Hierophant, the Voices of the Faith listen to the Dragon Songs of the Ancestral Dragons to guide them in their selection of a new Hierophant. Understanding that the Ancestral Dragons themselves have their own preferences, the Faith selects the Hierophant from the majority vote that emerges.

"Anquillan Berarthos Xicus," the Hierophant carefully enunciated each word as he walked towards the arched window that faced the northern side of the Seat of the Faith. The setting sun pained the sky a darkening vermilion and the clouds seemed like purple feathers stretched across the sky. "I was born Anquillan Berarthos Xicus, lone son to a farmer and his wife. Named after Anquillan Beras, the first Hierophant that ever existed. Though my parents were both not wealthy enough to live within wealthy and well protected city states such as Kibato or Ossus, they remained loyal to the Faith. They never questioned why the Ancestral Dragons would allow a discrepancy between the wealthy and the poor. Or why there were those whom the Onus Bond was found worthy, and why there are those who are not."

Five men dressed in black robes stood at the far side of the room. An intricately embroidered dragon adorned the back of each robe. Known as the Kabal, the five were the Hierophant's personal guard. While there were many rumors regarding their abilities, one thing was certain; their loyalty to the Hierophant was absolute.

A few paces ahead of the Kabal stood the Hierophants three guests.

The first was a tall man in a black pinstriped suit. White ruffles protruded from both the collar area and the end of the sleeves. Skin pale from the lack of exposure to the sun, the man had an unhealthy look to him. Combine that with the selection of garb and it was not too difficult to mistake him as an undertaker or someone in a similar field of business. A heavy tome was held underneath his left arm. Covered in dried stretched batskin, the tome was a ledger of all business dealings that to be agreed upon. They called him Libram and only the weathly could afford to have him stand as witness and recordskeeper of official transactions.

The second was a dwarf of a man whose tattered garb clearly suggested a man of action and struggle. What the man lacked in height was made up for in density of muscle. Tattoos of spiralling dragons, lightning bolts, tongues of flame and covered most of his skin that it was hard at times to tell if he truly was shirtless or not. But the mercenary known as Sunaj cared little for clothes. His interests neither in increasing his wealth or finding challenges to overcome. He was solely in the job because it gave him an excuse to remain close by the third guest and do everything in his power and prowess to ensure she was safe.

That guest was the woman garbed in red velvet hunting habit. She wore a taffeta skirt beneath the red velvet jacket and the striped red and cream waistcoat. Sharp corners and gold trimmings gave her a most noticeable presence that implied influence and professionalism. Her blonde hair was tucked dutifuly into a bun and set close to her nape. A tricorn hat was held in her left hat.

The Hierophant turned to face the woman and continued his commentary, "The Ancestral dragons have their reasons. Even something as simple as one's role in society - be it for a man to be of service to his state and for a woman to care for the young at the home - these things are immpecable truths one can find within the Dragon's Songs."

"May an evidently confused mercenary - a female one such as myself with neither home nor young to care for - then ask, your grace, what need you have of her?"

Sunaj saw the wry smile in her expression and carefully watched the Kabal for any intentions of punishing her for what was quite evidently a thinly veiled insult. None of the five did so much as move from where they stood. Unnervingly, Sunaj began to notice none of the five seemed to move at all; none did the tell tale signs of a human body maintaining balance, or of the slight scratches or fidgetting to deal with the occasional itch. They were like statues. Like frozen sentinels in full alert. Sunaj tried to angle his gaze to peer at the face of any one of the Kabal. The shadows were far too much in the way.

"Mercenary-"

"Would you prefer dau-"

"Mercenary will do," the Hierophant's gaze turned cold and Sunaj worried if his companion was testing the Hierophant's patience far too much. "The dragon has fled for the amber sands of Summe, which is beyond the domains of the Faith. I need of you to capture it for me. Alive."

"And this dragon is important because?"

"A mercenary only needs to know what needs to be done."

"Father," the woman began and paused, seeing the Hierophant's expression grow more and more concerned. Wickedly, the woman continued, "- of the Faith, surely if a lowly mercenary troupe such as mine were to carry out the mission best, it would be thanks to knowing all the details we need to know."

"An Other," the Hierophant growled. "We were informed by one of the Voice of Faith that a dragonride believes to have found his Other."

"An Other?" the woman gasped, "But if that were true-"

"Yes," the Hierophant nodded, "The Faith would have to test its validity."

The woman chose not to correct the man she had once called her father. Before Anquillan Berarthos Xicus began his studies to become one of the Voices of the Faith, he had a wife and from that wife they had a child. A daughter. But when the wife was taken by disease and the daughter traded to the Febhed raiders for his own freedom, Anquillan Berarthos Xicus found new direction by hearing the Dragon's Song. His desire for a new role in life was easily gained in his place among the Faith, and his devotion to the cause was not unnoticed. With the passing of the last Hierophant, Anquillan Berarthos Xicus was easily a candidate to be the next one, and many among the Voice of Faith placed their votes on his favor.

But to the woman, Anquillan Berarthos Xicus was still her father. He was still the man who had abandoned her to the Febhed. And he was now the man asking him for help.

"Why me?" she asked the Hierophant suspiciously, considering the many long years she had tried to speak with him, only to be rebuffed and ignored. Sunaj had suggested she threaten to come out with the truth of who he was to her, but she convinced him it was pointless to do so. What difference would it make to the Faith if the Seat of Faith was inhabited by a flawed man? The Faith was after all about devotion to the Ancestral Dragons. It was nothing about moral rightness or perfection.

"Because I was told you are the best," the Hierophant smiled genuinely now. There was real fatherly pride in his face, "And I cannot place this duty to anyone save the best."

"Very well," the woman motioned to Libram who then stepped forward and opened his leathery tome. Raising his other hand above the tome, Libram depressed his thumb against a button at the base of his hand's other fingers and watched as the needle-like pins protruded from each fingertip. Black ink bubbled onto the edge of each tip.

"I am ready," Libram nodded. His finger tips began scribbling upon the open page of his tome. The words began to emerge in a unique calligraphic design which Libram had devised. An observer would be confused to discover Libram was not even writing from one end of a page to another. Instead, he was slashing and dotting all over the whole page, and it was only as time passed that interconnecting lines, overlaps and cross hatches began to makes sense and reveal their words. Libram wrote each page almost as if he was already seeing the completed document in his mind even before it was completed. "State your names for the record."

"I am Anquillan Berarthos Xicus, Hierophant of the Faith."

"And I am Alucita, Mercenary and Huntsman among the Febhed."

The contract was written, with both parties declaring their roles and their duties to be performed, and by the time the contract was completed, and the agreements were sealed with signatures from each party, the sun had fully set and the night had begun to grow cold. The Hierophant pulled on a thin chain close to the wall and within seconds, three monks carrying hand lamps entered the chamber and began lighting the nearby lanterns.

"I will hope to receive daily updates on your -"

"No," Alucita interrupted the Hierophant, "You will not. Instead, you will hear from us when we have your captive. And you will receive us as we have discussed on the contract. Libram is both witness and record of the deal. You need not worry, we hunstmen of the Febhed do not fail."

The Hierophant nodded and motioned the three monks to show the mercenaries the way out, "Til that time comes then. Thank you for coming."

Alucita gave a forced smile, then walked up to Sunaj's side. The dwarf handed her a small purse of gold which she then handed to Libram. "For your troubles, chronicler. The Hierophant will be sure to inform you when the deal is to be concluded."

The monks bowed before the Hierophant and then moved to stand beside each guest to escort them out. That moment, as one of the three monks reached Sunaj's side, Sunaj saw a glimpse of one of the Kabal's faces as the hand lamp's light cast away the shadows concealing the face beneath the hood. To Sunaj's mute horror, the face underneath was identical to the Hierophant's face.

Quickie Fiction: Captive

Savati soared through the air, feeling the wind surge past its slender form. Emerald scales shifted ever so slightly to channel the air around it as it moved through the sky. The dragon rode the currents of air in a swim like motion, zigzagging between the clouds and the cross currents of wind as it rushed to go as far away from Vandross and the saffron dragon as fast as possible.

A thousand torrents of thoughts surged through the emerald dragon's mind as it did all it can to distance itself from the two. Questions raced through its reptilian mind: Why was that man able to communicate with him in that manner? What made that mortal different from all others it had encountered before? Why did it feel a profound mixture of excitement, giddiness and fear each time they saw each other? What was it supposed to do? Many possible answered surfaced but few seemed to make satisfactory sense.

All Savati knew for certain was that what was transpiring was something altogether different. And yet far too strangely familiar.

* * *

"Nicodemus," Vandross slammed his fists at the talons that were holding him aloft, "The dragon. We have to catch it."

But the saffron dragon refused to take chase. Instead, it continued to hover in the air where it had caught Vandross. With effort, Vandross could still make out the rapidly fading form of the emerald dragon that shot towards the distant horizon. He knew that in the few seconds that remainded, the dragon could vanish in the distance and the chances of tracking it would be next to impossible.

"Nicodemus," Vandross called out again, but this time using a softer calmer tone, "The dragon-"

Clearly in response, the saffron dragon suddenly opened its talons and allowed Vandross to drop. Gravity imposing its will upon the dragonrider, Vandross immediately began to plummet for the watery sands below. Pulling his legs close to his chest, Vandross maneuvered himself to catch the wind as he fell, then at the last second, twisted his body to rechannel the force of impact into a rolling motion. Water sprayed into the air as Vandross struck the ground, and wet sand sloshed outwards in a violent display as Vandross allowed his body to redirect the force of the impact into a less damaging blow.

Almost mockingly, Nicodemus descended gently to the drier portions of the sand a few yards from where Vandross had struck the ground. With a swipe of its taloned claw, the dragon brought forth a dense growth of moss and grass to rise, providing it a cushion to rest upon.

"Nicodemus!"

The dragon thrusted its other talon into the earth in response. WIth the defiant gaze of its vertically slit eyes never breaking contact with that of his dragonrider's, the dragon tore a portion of the wet sand from the ground and allowed a thorny vine to rise in its place. Vandross watched the vigorously intertwining weed almost tear itself into shreds and deciphered Nicodemus' words.

In some ways, Vandross was already anticipating what his Onus Bonded dragon had to say.

"You know why. That green dragon... Savati... and I share some connection. Some bond which rivals even the one we have forged. You and I are Onus Bonded, Nicodemus. You are privy to both my thoughts and feelings. You know how Savati's mere presence affects me. You know this isn't-"

The saffron dragon slammed its tail into the ground angrily. It was very clear that Nicodemus was not happy. But what suprised Vandross was how violently his dragon was reacting.

"Savati is my Other. Don't you understand that?"

Nicodemus trembled with contained rage. The dragon felt its emotions well up, rising into a terrible wave of anger that was fueled by both jealousy and pain. But at the same time, it felt the pain that Vandross himself was feeling. It felt the part of Vandross that hated the fact what was transpiring was hurting Nicodemus.

It buried its talons once again into the sand. This time, rather than angrily communicating, Nicodemus struggled to regain some level of its composure and gently manipulated the sand to explain its words. From the sand, a sapling rose and began to expand. Small circular leaves began to erupt as the plant's tip opened to reveal a rapidly explanding fruit. A sweet ripe scent began to fill the air as the fruit shifted from its greenish tones to a more yellow shade of ripeness.

"I know," Vandross admitted as he tried to rise back to his feet. His legs still throbbed with pain from the fall. "And all that time we have spent together has not suddenly lost all importance, Nicodemus. You and I have gone through a lot. You and I have survived many challenges... many tests. It is even possible that you and I owe each other our lives more than anyone else can ever owe another in this whole world. But Nicodemus.... Savati. Savati is my Other. I can't explain how I know this for certain. But you can sense thanks to our Onus Bond that deep down, amidst the whirlwind of emotions that I am struggling to tame, I know this to be true."

The fruit's silken skin broke open. The yellow tone began to shift into the red shade of overripeness.

"And we would both be a fool not to see where this ends."

Nicodemus slowly nodded. Vandross was right. Even among the dragons that believed the time of man should come to an end, the idea that a man and a dragon who would regard each other as absolute equals was at best a legend. An impossibility. For many dragons, the idea that man would ever view a dragon as such was as likely as a the sun gaining the ability to weep. For other dragons, such an event was deemed proof that the Ancestral Dragons allowed the era of man to come after the fall of the dragons, because the third era to follow was one where both deemed each other to be true equals. And Nicodemus had long believed in the latter.

It was only jealous at the fact it was not to be the dragon that accomplished the impossible.

Vandross walked up to the overly ripened fruit and tore it free from the weighed down stalk. He stared at the now sour-smelling thing and watched as its sticky nectar began to drip down to the ground. He looked up at Nicodemus and slowly shook his head.

"Do you not care for me enough to want me to see this to the end?"

* * *

Savati glanced back and saw nothing but clouds behind it. The yellow sands below had long been replaced by the verdant blur of endless green. Far from the lands of both the Faith and the Febhed, Savati hoped that Vandross and his dragon would not dare chase after them. This deep into the wilderness, there were other powers and domains that claimed authority of both the skies and the land.

But distracted by the concern of its persuers, Savati failed to notice the descend of dark feathered things that held a glimmering net between them. In a silent calculated stroke, the dark fliers crossed paths and entangled Savati in their enchanted web. Azure fire surged through the threads as the net's magics worked to bring the emerald dragon down. And just before Savati felt all semblance of consciousness and strength fade from it, it saw riding upon one of the dark fliers the form of a woman dressed in formal red velvet hunting garb with a grinning ivory face crafted from bone.

Quickie Fiction: Recognition

Beneath the canopy of clouds, an emerald dragon watched as the shadowy figure of a man named Vandross began to emerge. Slender in form and ungainly in grace, the dragon clamped its four clawed feet against the shifting waters beneath it and considered what was to be its next course of action. Even with its tired eyes, the green serpent gazed past the rushing winds and spied the face of the falling figure.

It was him.

The man it had met so few days ago.

The man who with a single glance awoke a change within the emerald dragon's bone encased heart. The man who with a single smile uttered an unspoken song which reached the dragon's ears and declared "My name is Vandross."

It was late evening when the emerald dragon first spied the man. Close to the borders of the small fishing town called Elmata, the dragon had been running a con job. Through the judicious use of its innate ability to disguise itself, a gift called Maya which only certain dragons have learned to master, the emerald dragon had been posing as a young female pirate named Mesin. Having never learned to properly hunt prey, the dragon quickly discovered that humans could be made easily suggestible with the proper application of Maya. While most dragons learned to hunt with claw and talon, the emerald dragon had a fancy for meals a human would prepare and much to its brood's dismay had opted to survive through more roguish means.

As Mesin, the dragon was convincing a recently arrived traveling caravan that proper tithe and boarding taxes must be paid to the Pirate's Guild before they were to be allowed to disembark. Though such practices of extortion were common in any small town outside the direct protections of the Faith, the emerald dragon had learned that Elmata had no such pirates present. Mesin, therefore, was born to take advantage of this fact. For years, the emerald dragon embraced this new identity and face. She would stalk the ports and any easily manipulated fools whom she would encounter on her nightly jaunts. Some would provide her with the gold or valuables she would need for later needs. Others would surrender to her services or owe her favors she was to later claim when convenient. In many ways, the town of Elmata had become a convenient zone of comfort for the rogue dragon.

While the humans struggled between their beliefs on the songs of the Ancestral Dragons or the voices of the earth, the dragons and their brood had their own internal struggle. While the benefits of an Onus Bond could not be denied, and the songs of the elements could be heard as well by the dragons, the dragons were more concerned whether the dominance of man upon the earth was to be allowed to continue. In times younger than the written history of man, the dragons were the sole rulers of the land. No beast dared stand before the rage and immense power of a dragon. And while many dragons have learned to embrace the fact that the time of the wyrm had ended, few still dreamed of a day when the time of man should come to an end.

The emerald dragon had no desire to be involved in such debates, and had fled to hide amongst men. Little did it know this very action would lead it into becoming embroiled on a far greater struggle to come.

Mesin had learned of an incoming vessel from the capital city of Kibato. Remembering the previous Kibato victims of her mischeif, Mesin anticipated the spices, fine silks and perhaps even an artefact or two of the Faith she was to re-appropriate. She scouted the vessel at first from the air, darting between the thick rolling clouds as she approached from above. She saw the vibrant colors of the Kibato flag and tried to decide whether an intimidating or a charming approach was best for that night's adventure.

The emerald dragon dove, after surveying the vessel and discovering there were only four hired mercenaries on board, and with a silent invocation of Maya transmuted itself into the form of Mesin. Emerald scales warped into tight-fitting green leather. Luminous dragonmane rewove into silver fishnet stockings that covered her arms and legs. Four narrow horns shrink and folded into tiny ivory jewelry. With skin the shade of polished pinewood, lips thick and pouty, and wide alert eyes, Mesin landed on the deck of the vessel with a triumphant scream.

The four swordsmen quickly stepped forward, their steel drawn and gleaming in the night. Mesin slowly rose to standing position, her eyes casually noting how the four moved into position to flank her. Mesin announced her name then, calmly telling all those on board that she had come to retrieve from them their valuables and gold, and that half of today's bounty would be given to all the mercenaries who chose to assist her that moment. A simple declaration, but enough to sway three of the mercenaries. Underpaid and ignored, the three mercenaries saw Mesin's offer as a chance to make a change in their lives. The fourth died under his former co-workers' blades. The captain of the vessel pleaded mercy and Mesin simply declared that unlike the servants of the Faith, she was not the kind of person to kill anyone who disagreed with her.

It was that moment her eyes met Vandross.

He was among the crowd of worrying noblemen and merchants who were being retrieved of their precious belongings. He stood silent and unmoving amidst a sea of weeping and frightened faces. He stared back at Mesin, but his face did not betray anger or disapproval. He stared at her with eyes that were brimming with recognition. Familiarity. And something else.

Vandross.

His name emerged in Mesin's mind, sung by the Ancestral Dragons themselves. His name learned without word or invocation. Without action. Without thought. Mesin panicked then, not understanding what had come over her, and leapt into the sky. She transmuted herself back into a magnificent emerald dragon as she spreaded her wings wide to catch the air. She fled, fearing this unexplainable familiarity for a total stranger whose name she already knew without asking.

A stranger who hunted her down in the nights that followed even after when the emerald dragon had abandoned the face of Mesin.

Who searched for it even after the emerald dragon attempted to bargain with the Febhed for safe passage between Faith domains.

And who came to rescued it from the Febhed who turned on their own word and imprisoned it within a cage of stone and earth.

The emerald dragon saw the man falling and once again felt every urge and instinct to flee. The connection between them was frightening. It was revelatory. It was like being stripped of all defenses and disguises and being forced to stand brutally naked and exposed to an utter stranger. But was he a stranger? Was this man whose name sang in its mind a stranger? Was this man whom felt familiar and in some strange way comforting truly the source of fear and anxiety? Or was it merely cold selfish defensive logic fearing the undeniable truth of a growing understanding of what was already there and could not be ignored.

"Savati."

The emerald dragon smiled. It was a reaction it itself found unexpected. The man, Vandross, had called out to it. He knew its name. And that made it happy without knowing why.

"Savati, I know you can hear me."

Green scales glistened as Savati crouched low. It felt its muscles tense in preparation for flight. Though the dragons had wings, the initial flight always required a leap into the sky. Beneath Savati, the ground rippled as the water swirled against the moss and the fine yellow sands. Savati felt its heart beat faster and faster, and wondered how even if it felt so much like it was going to explode out of its chest, the dragon felt excited and happy. With a final motion, the dragon pushed against the earth and launched itself into the air, leaving a massive growing ripple on the water, like a widening arc of an explosive force.

"I hear you," Savati sung, its voice reaching Vandross regardless of the wind howling around his ears. "I hear you even if I do not know how." Savati was airborne, wings spread as he swam the currents towards the falling man.

"And I you," Vandross felt tears welling in his eyes. The teardrops escaped and flew upwards, carried by the whipping winds. "This is strange."

"Frightening."

"Yet familiar."

"It feels like-" Savati began but perceived the dark coiled shadow that suddenly emerged through the clouds behind Vandross. With a fluid twist, Savati angled its wings to divert the winds and extended its lowers talons to weave the air currents and bring it into a sudden abrupt stop. That very same moment, Vandross felt his descent halted as a dangerously sharp talons snatched him from the sky and perfectly harmlessly plucked him from his fall. Savati stared at the saffron dragon that had appeared and held Vandross in its grasp.

"- Love," Vandross found the word on his lips and knew it was exactly what Savati was going to say. But within the saffron dragon's grasp, he suddenly felt pain remembering that he had already made his choice and it was with Nicodemus that the Onus Bond was forged. A union that could only be surpassed by the finding of The Other.

"Vandross," Savati whispered, "I'm sorry." The fear was too intense. Nicodemus held on to Vandross as the emerald dragon twisted in the air and began to fly away. Vandross realized he had not stopped crying and motioned Nicodemus to follow. But Nicodemus did not move. The saffron dragon watched as Savati continued to fly away and pondered on a truth that it had witnessed just now. Unlike the communication of the Onus Bond, the emerald dragon was able to communicate with Vandross directly. No need for signs. No need for actions. No need for deciphering.

Nicodemus understood the fact: Savati was indeed Vanross other.

But what that entailed was something the saffron dragon was still unwilling to accept.

Quickie Fiction: Choice

Vandross continued to fall. The air rushed past him like a raging river of cold and mist. The pull of gravity upon him seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. Vandross could still feel his bond to Nicodemus and resisted the urge to call out for help. He was falling faster and faster as the rock face of the cliffside behind him simply vanished into a gray and white blur.

"No."

The dragon remained at the cliff's edge, seeing the black form of its Onus Bonded rider getting smaller and smaller. It felt the fangs of anxiety biting deep and resisted the urge to launch itself back into the air and chase after him. Vandross was, after all, in many ways a part of Nicodemus' own body and soul.

They had first met seven years ago.

It was a warm bright morning when Nicodemus first saw Vandross. Barely an active member of the Faith, the young man was standing across the dragon pen and staring at the many dragons that were busily feeding. Nicodemus saw the excitement in the young man's eyes and sensed the passion deep within him. He was unlike most members of the Faith who seemed more anxious to serve the Faith and spread the song of the Ancestral Dragons. He was truly fascinated with dragons and sought so much to find the one who could forge a true bond with.

The days transformed into weeks. Vandross visited the pen almost daily. Nicodemus would see the young man approach the pen, taking small tentative steps as if he was afraid coming close too soon would scare the dragons away. Some of the other dragons have noticed Vandross in the past and amongst themselves have discussed how naive and young the candidate was. None felt the semblance of the Onus Bond with the young man. None felt he had either potential or promise as one of the Faith. But Nicodemus saw something else. While it was undeniable how unexperienced the human was, Nicodemus could see a truth that existed in this young man. The innocence and enthusiasm in his eyes was pure.

As was the love.

The young Vandross had a passion for dragons. The young Vandross truly sought to find a dragon whom it would forge a bond with. The young man truly felt incomplete until he found the dragon that made them whole.

And Nicodemus wanted that for him as well.

"No, Nicodemus. Don't."

The dragon watched as the tiny speck of black that was Vandross began to fade into the clouds far below. Panic began to grow within the dragon's heart. Was this the day that Nicodemus would lose his Onus Bond? Was this the day that all the sacrifices and the decisions made before would cease being part of its present life and become part of the memories of what has come to pass.

Seven years ago, the young Vandross approached the pen as he had very many times. Beside him walked the man called the Voice of Faith. Vandross stared at the many dragons and Nicodemus could remember his words so clearly.

"He's here, Tajuc. I know he is. The dragon whom I am intended to forge the bond with."

The Voice of Faith warned Vandross then. Warned him that not everyone finds their dragon. Warned him not everyone can forge the bond. "Most seek to forge a bond and merely find momentary ties forming. Others never even find one that resonates with their own song. Vandross, if you cannot feel the Onus Bond form, do not think you lack-"

"But he's here! I know it," the young Vandross ran into the pen and began walking past the many dragons that were feeding. Nicodemus felt in its own heart the yearning that the man would succeed. Nicodemus wanted the man to find his dragon. He wanted him to be happy.

"Vandross, don't search. Feel the song. Let the song guide you."

"Here!"

Nicodemus stared directly at the young Vandross. It saw the sweat dotting the human's skin. It smelled the excitement surging through his blood. It heard the joy in his voice. But as Nicodemus watched the man, it realized the man was staring straight back at him. Tajuc walked to Vandross' side and looked up as well to see which dragon Vandross had chosen.

The dragon realized both humans were staring back at it.

"He's my dragon, Tajuc. He's the one," Vandross smiled as he stepped forward. The young man had no fear of Nicodemus. While it has happened in the past that a dragon feels uneasy by a human's approach and attacked in self defense, Vandross seemed to have no such fears of Nicodemus. "He's the one I feel the Onus Bond with."

Tajuc raised his gaze higher and offered a whispered song to the Ancestral Dragons. He then brought his gaze down and looked at Nicodemus. His right hand motioned towards Vandross. "Dragon, you stand before a candidate of the Faith. The man before you is Vandross, child of Oyen and Rafteg. He comes before you offering the Onus Bond, that you and he forever be forged into one soul and one heart. That your talons be his hands. That his lips be your voice."

Nicodemus could only stare at Vandross. He could see the excitement in the young man's eyes. He could see the hope, so fragile and yet so strong, that he was right and that he had chosen the dragon meant for him.

"Dragon, the song of your Ancestors rings in my ears. They have named you Nicodemus. If this man is he whom you shall share the Onus Bond with, then let your own song be sung that the harmony of your two destinies be made known. Let your song be sung that you two be tied to each other, sharing life and death, pain and hunger, fear and exhaustion, strength and memories for as long as you both remain as you are, half souls lacking the Other that completes you."

Vandross' eyes grew wet with the threat of falling tears. He felt something was wrong. He felt the dragon hesitate.

Nicodemus saw the hope tremble. The dragon felt the joy ebb. The dragon closed its eyes, took a deep breath of air, and chose to sing.

"Nicodemus, please. Don't come after me."

The dragon was the speck vanish into the clouds below.

Every urge and instinct screamed inside of it to move. To act. To fly. To take chase. To catch his Vandross before he hit the ground. Seven years they were bound to one another. Seven years they carried each other's burdens. Seven years they were one life.

But deep inside itself, Nicodemus knew it had made a decision that day many years ago. And it knew now that today it had to make a decision as well.

"Nico-"

The voice faded away. The dragon could no longer hear Vandross through the bond.
With a cry, Nicodemus launched itself into the air and with a song, the dragon dove to chase after his rider into the clouds.