The Owl Diaires, DREGON Pt.4/4

Authored & Illustrated by
T.W.HEBERTSON

Copyright 2011 by T.W.HEBERTSON

All rights reserved


This work may not be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission.


The Owl Diaries
-DREGON-Pt 4/4


The luminous pyramid prison faded and vanished.  Evaria tripped towards Marcham and drop to shield his blood splattered body with her last ounce of strength.  The confidant moved slowly to them as he lowered his sword and pulled back his hood.
“Don’t you guys know a jail break when you see one?” Taudfre said excitedly.
  “Taudfre!”  Evaria eyes wide open in disbelief.
Marcham stared helplessly at the apparition as he continued to check himself for wounds.
Evaria and Marcham staggered as they both stood up.  Taudfre ran over to assist them.  He embraced Evaria and held her close to his thumping chest.  He turned to Marcham who was white as a sheet, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost my friend.”
Marcham reached out to touch him to make sure he was real, “I thought you were crushed in the corridor.  I thought I had killed you.”  He grabbed Taudfre a gave him a crushing bear hug.
“This hug will kill me,” Taudfre’s muffled voiced escaped through Marcham’s hard armor. “The rocks grazed me a bit but I’m no worse for wear.  Let’s get to the top of this ‘Hennax’ hole where our ‘chariots of air’ await.”
Evaria quickly searched for any handy weapon and found a rusted metal bar.  She saw a gleaming object on the floor and picked it up.  She recognized it immediately! “Don’t forget the shield.”
Rearmed and psyched for the next gauntlet, they limped and dragged each other up through the core.  Taudfre slew exhausted magi hiding along the tunnels, most of them in retreat.  When they reached the summit of the Demon’s Throne the massacre of mayhem was evident all around them.  Bodies lay hewn and ripped to pieces as they sloshed through blood soaked stone.  Frozen corpses, shredded owls and dead wolves were strewn about the flat circular plateau.  Nothing moved except for the ghostly silhouetted Polar Wolves blinking reflective eyes along the horizon, their steaming breathe drifted in the chilled northern air.
“Bogey!” Marcham shouted and waved.  The large wolves trotted over to the party side-stepping corpses and body parts.  They wound their way through the group sniffing and rubbing their fur against them.  Marcham cautiously patted the chest high wolves in appreciation, “Evaria, meet our fellow soldiers.”
Evaria bent down and thanked the animals as she invoked Elohm to heal their battle wounds.  Healings was her forte and she had a unique gift with animals.  She was attuned to their feelings and could communicate thoughts and idea to them.  She healed all those who were in need and had no strength left to heal herself.  She fell to the ground fatigued.  The wolves muzzled her body and licked her.
Taudfre rested Evaria in his arms, “Evaria what can we do to help you?”.
“I just need to rest.  I so tired” her eyes became heavy as she felt the warmth between their pressed cheeks. 
He kissed her lips gently and laid her down.  Wrapping her with unstained magi cloaks to keep her warm. “She is in no condition to travel.  Marcham have you spotted Dregon and Snowbeak?”
“They are not on the plateau.”
Taudfre stood up, put his thumb and forefinger into his mouth and whistled deafly, ears ringing.  The echo was quickly swallowed by the vastness of the glacier field hundreds of feet below.  There was no response.  They ventured to the edge of the vertical drop-off.  Marcham looked down over the rim and fell backwards with vertigo.  Taudfre whistled even louder.  A force of air shot upwards along the cliff face as Dregon rushed to meet the rescue party.  He folded his whining wings and dropped down onto throne with a thud.
Taudfre ran to Dregon and patted his neck, “Are you hurt?  You have blood everywhere on you.”
“Most of it’s not mine”, Dregon spotted the wolves enclosing a blanketed figure,  expecting the worse, “Evaria?”
They walk over and the wolves backed away defensively.  Dregon was relieved when he saw her breath vaporizing in the frigid air, she forced her eyes open.  “I’m so happy your alive Ari”, a single tear froze on his snout.
Evaria started to cry, “Thank you for rescuing me, all of you.  I’m so ashamed.  I can’t believe the trouble I’ve put you through.”
“Don’t say that.  Don’t even think that way.  If roles were reversed we know you would come,” Dregon said.
“Where is Mooneye? I don’t see him,” she looked around.
Everyone looked at Dregon with anticipation as sadness took form, “He fell between the veils of ice into the blackness below.”
Dregon retold what had transpired outside the Demon’s Throne during the attack and how he witnessed the fall but was helpless as he contented with the great owls.
“What if he’s still alive?” Marcham asked.
Taudfre massaged his forehead, “Dregon we need to sky into the crevasse and find Snowbeak.  We need to give him the benefit of any doubt.  He will not be left alone.  How many of us can you carry?”
“I can manage two of you.”
Marcham knew he was going to be ‘sky sick’ again as he secured his sword and bow, “What about Evaria?”
  “What do you think, my amber angel?” Taudfre caressed her cheek.
“I will be fine here with my new friends.  They will keep me warm and safe, Broonzane promised me.”  The wolf leader walked over as she reached for him and patted his chin.  “Hurry, go find Snowbeak, Taudfre.  Bring him home.  Take this.”  She handed him the gold amulet, “Recognized this?”
The palm-sized golden amulet had four evenly spaced holes that breached the diameter of the circular disk, creating a cross like design.  In the center, was a trillion cut brownish-orange gem.  Surrounding this garnet was a hand carved decorative square.  Inside the square, an inscription of ancient text was written on all four sides.
Taudfre could not believe his eyes, he whispered, “Where did you find it?”
  “It was next to Diacmish’s body,” she replied.
“This is disturbing indeed,” Taudfre had no time ponder.
  “If Snowbeak is dying, it may save his life,” Evaria assured him.
“Or kill him!” Taudfre pushed her hand away.
  She rebutted, “It may be his last hope.  Take it for me.”
He hesitantly took it and shoved it in his pocket, wanting to forget about it.
“Remember to read the inscription out loud”, she insisted.
“I remember,” Taudfre knew the myth.  The Weapon of Destruction was an ancient instrument from a forgotten time.  The language inscribed upon it was Elohmic which predates all known tongues.  Not many can translate it, let alone speak it.  The instrument has no home.  It wants no home.  It is destined to ever wander.  The Khabal had possession of it for two-hundred years until it disappeared.  It has continually transferred through a never ending collection of hands since the beginning of time, and now, it was in Taudfre’s.  In the past, one would hold the object or place it onto another and read the words.  Whomever the instrument touched when the words were recited they were usually destroyed.  But those who were not destroyed received extraordinary rumored gifts such as an unnatural long healthy life, revelation, a new talent evoking Elohm or transforming into a pure Elohm being.
“You want to try it?” Taudfre joked.
“Later, there may be no time left for Snowbeak.  I’ll still live.  I promise.  I have plenty of reasons too.”
He could not believe her answer.  Could she actually be entertaining the idea of using this cursed object?  He kissed her again, “Don’t go anywhere.  Marcham, let’s sky.”


“You are rather resilient against the poison flowing in your veins Snowbeak,” Onna examined the giant owl’s dilated pupils.  “Rather ironic the mighty ‘Ice Ghost’ will become just that, left down here all alone to freeze to death.” she snickered.
Snowbeak was shifting in and out of consciousness.  His head was spinning, vision blurred.  He felt like mashed potatoes.  Onna’s glowing staff lit up the immediate space and disappeared into what seemed like an endless black void.  He felt the ice covered ground penetrating his body beneath him.
“Do you know how much effort and time it takes to train an owl?  Now all we have is two worthless mounds of plastered feathers, one dead and one alive.  Soon it will be two.  Lucky for you, you soft landed on top of poor old Strix and crushed the life force from him.”
Snowbeak forced words past his broken ribs, “He became eligible for retirement.”
“Ahh! I am so tired of your relentless comical responses.  You should have been born a squawking parade parrot, performing your mundane wit to dirty ragged village children visiting those pathetic traveling, rat infested, caravan sideshows.”
“Let’s kill him now.  What are we waiting for?” Vrax growled.
“Patience my silver prince.  Remember, Diacmish still wants Dregon.  So it would be to our advantage to have live bait, while he still breathes.  We need his friends to come to us and when they do I will collapse these walls and trap them.  A thousand feet of ice should hold them for a while.
“How will we get out?” Vrax asked.
“Don’t worry, I always have a way out” Onna boasted.


“Dregon slow down it’s getting to close for comfort in here!” the Wing Master shouted.  Sheets of ice fell and shaven snow blinded Taudfre as Dregon could no longer glide down the narrowing crevasse.  He dragged his clawed feet and wings against the walled ice in an effort to regain some relativity of control.  Marcham had a death grip around Dregon’s back, eyes clamped shut, screaming like a foul mouthed little girl.  They slid faster and faster until the wall ended, giving way to an unknown void.  Dregon straightened his wings and leveled out as they entered a mammoth ice cavern in total blind darkness. 
“I can’t see a thing.  We’re going to die!” Marcus Shrilled.
  “What do you see Dregon?” Taudfre knew that dragons had thermal vision.
“I see a faint warm spot ahead on the distant ground.  I also see other varying residual heat prints.  There has been recently activity here.”
“Keep your eyes open!” Taudfre said.
“How will that help?” Marcham stated nervously, not seeing his own hand in front of his face.
“Marcham, hand me the shield!” he could barely understand any audible conversation over the roar of the racing wind.  Miraculously, he managed to untie the shield and passed it forward.  Taudfre inserted his arm securely into the shield grip, “Candeoluxem!”  The enchanted Elohm shield radiated a narrow beam of light that cut through the thick darkness.  Sight was limited to where the spot of light was directed.
Suddenly, a blast of rumbling flame lit up the three from behind as Dregon banked hard to evade the attack. 
“Oh Shiiz! Bogey! Bogey! Bogey!”  Marcham panicked.
“Just hang on tight!” Taudfre yelled.  He rotated the shield in all directions searching for the attacking dragon.
Vrax!  Dregon could see the dragon’s heat signature through the dimness while all the riders were virtually blind, “Someone is riding Vrax!  To the left!  To the right…up high!”
Taudfre aimed the shield light in the commanded directions; it was like finding a thorn in a briar patch.  A red fire bolt shot out of the darkness missing them.  More fire bolts lit up the reflective iced walls. 
“It’s Onna!” Marcham recognized her by the brilliant flash of her shooting staff.  She shot again.  Huge sheets of ice fell from the walls.  “What is she doing, she’s not even trying to hit us?”
Taudfre deducted, “She’s trying to collapse the walls.  We’ll be trapped in here!”  Won’t she be trapped in here? She must have another way out.  “We’ve got to stop her.  Grab her Dregon!”
He dived at full speed while Marcham choked on bile.  Flames spewed towards Dregon as he countered with his ice breathe.  Wings and claws made contact as all riders strained to remain seated.  Taudfre tried to blind Vrax and Onna with the light, which at times, gave Dregon the ‘upper wing’ between combat rounds.  Onna used her spells and staff against them but she could not maintain focus and direction.  It was too dark to fight effectively.  The battle was now in the skills of the two dragons, while everyone else was there for the ride. 
“This darkness is suicide!” Onna screamed, “Vrax, sky me down to the ground!”
He complied and dove to the bottom of deep chasm.  With her lit staff, she leaped and rolled onto the ice, Vrax never touched the ground. 
Dregon followed, telling Taudfre and Marcham to do the same.  However, Dregon stopped momentarily and summoned fire from the icy ground to aid them,  “Incendium ver glaci!” Scattered flames appeared everywhere within sight of horizon termination.  He disappeared into the blackness above. 
With the shield still lit, they pursued Onna on foot splashing through melting ice flows and a twisting maze of huge solid ice blocks.  Just like Nobgob Valley.  They came upon Snowbeak’s body as Taudfre slid to a stop. 
“Onna!” Marcham kept on foot chasing the lighted silver staff.
“Marcham, Wait!” he knelt down beside Snowbeak.
Snowbeak’s eyes fluttered, “Poisoned, broken ribs.  I cannot move.”
He examined Snowbeak’s wounds.  The owl was dying.  “We need Evaria,” Taudfre looked up beyond the ascending void and wished she was there.  He remembered the golden amulet, retrieved it from his pocket and showed it to the owl, “This may help.  It’s the Weapon of Judgment.  Should I use it on you?”
Snowbeak could not focus on the instrument.  His mental faculties were fading.  He thought he heard ‘weapon of judgment’ as his consciousness gave way.  Peace at last.
Taudfre shook Snowbeak, “Is that a yes?  Snowbeak.  Snowbeak!  He placed the ancient instrument on the large white feathered body and read the archaic text a loud, “Soy lo clem’ ma lang tu hoth mai’ elohmum ploy.”  Roughly translated: ‘The will of Creation like a fire is burning, be consumed in its glory’.
Snowbeak’s body started to glow as a small circular field of white spread throughout the ice beneath him.  An urthe-node?  Snowbeak welcomed the familiar channeling of energy that began to revitalize his body and mind. 
Taudfre was unsure what was happening as the scene unfolded but saw no adverse effects from the amazing event, yet.  He resisted interfering and backed away, looking skyward for the dragons.  Stay alert, the fight is not over. 
Snowbeak could not feel the tremendous pain in his ribs anymore but his body still ached.  The poison in his veins was dissipating and he felt livelier by the minute.  He became conscious as his air filled lungs returned to normal.  The supernatural light faded.  Taudfre removed the amulet.
Snowbeak immediately recognized it, “Where did you find it?” he asked.
  “A ‘parting’ gift from Diacmish.”
“He’s dead?” Snowbeak focused on the shiny details. 
Taudfre shook his head in acknowledgement.
Snowbeak rolled over and staggered upright, “Evaria?”
“She is topside resting with the wolves.  Dregon is contending with Vrax” Taudfre pointed up.
“So I can hear.”  He ran and stretched forth his flapping wings and headed into the air, fighting to regain composure. 
Taudfre pocketed the amulet and picked up his shield.  He withdrew his sword and headed towards the last known direction where Marcham had disappeared. 


The two dragons circled each other in the air with exhaustion; bruised, bashed and beyond.
“Dregon do not make me destroy you!” Vrax was recalling Dregon’s last attack, evaluating any advantage of weakness.  “The only thing keeping you alive is the fact that you are my brother.”
“I don’t care if you’re my little sister.  You killed our father and our mother died alone with a broken heart.  You are a disease festering on Creation’s hind end that will soon be eradicated.  If there is any mercy for you now, I’ll let Creation sort it out!” Dregon dove with talons exposed.
Vrax ‘sky stepped’ away, “I did not kill Dregonus Vermilionax.  He killed himself!  I only happened to be with him when he died.  Our father was a stag and was the very best.  Until this day, this knowledge has remained a secret between Lord Diacmism, Dregonus and me.”
“LIAR!” Dregon tackled the older dragon and headed for the nearest crevasse wall to crush him.
Vrax grunted, “When I was young, Father used to tell me the dirty secrets of the Temblor Khabal.  I was sickened by them.  He eventually initiated me into the Dival Norad.  He hated the Khabal.”  Vrax used their inertia to roll Dregon towards the oncoming wall, “Father stole the Khabal’s greatest treasure,  The Weapon of Judgment.  So mysterious a weapon that it can kill or reward its possessor with mighty gifts.  Many have tried to learn its secrets but have failed.  In the end, father was overshadowed by the lust of this weapon’s mythical power and evidently had no further understanding of the device.”
The dragons collided with the hard wall releasing a huge ice sheet that exploded on the ground below.  They raced through the air as they continually rushed one another with snapping jaws, “We met in one of our many hideouts, the same cavern where Onna freed me.  Greedily, father tried the device on himself.  He held that seemingly insignificant little golden medallion and read the ancient inscription engraved on its circular body.  I did not even understand the archaic language at the time.  Light sliced and pierced his body from within.  He roared in agony as rays of illumination appeared in great number.  The fire inside consumed him.  He died at my feet, a smoldering corpse.  That is when Snowbeak, who was already suspicious of me, suddenly appeared in the cavern and found the mighty Dregonus slain before me.  I was falsely accused!” Vrax contended.  “I grabbed the Weapon and fled to Morgoth that day, never returning to the Khabal or to our mother ever again.  Out of fear, I swore to myself never to use it.  Diacmish now possesses this weapon and has it safely hidden away.”
Dregon could not believe this lie.  He did not want to believe it but it was too elaborate and naturally stated, he began to wonder.  Snowbeak has withheld much information from me before.  Could any of this be true?  The combat continued.


Slipping and sliding, Taudfre fought his way over icy knolls following obscure foot prints.  He used his sword as an ice pick, anchoring his body and pulling himself up the inclined slopes of rough ice.  As he reached the top of the last knoll he came upon a thundering roar which did not stop.  Taudfre directed the lighted shield downwards and discovered a large turbulent river drilling its way for miles beneath the thousand foot thick glacier.  The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.  What a way to die, a cold black violent liquid drowning death!  He yelled for Marcham and shined the light round about.  The only response was the deafening river as it swallowed all other sound.  He vicariously traversed the ridge, praying that Marcham did not slip into the river.  The knoll level out, relieving the tension of falling.  He kicked the heel of his boots into the melted ice for stable footing.  Taudfre lost the footprints many yards behind him and did not know what direction to search.  Frustrated, he decided to backtrack where Snowbeak was found and to wait for assistance.  It is too dangerous up here.  This was the most unwelcomed location ever ventured and he could not wait to get out there.  He hoped Dregon and Snowbeak had dispatched Vrax and were not hurt.  The cold was enveloping his mind and numbing his body as he retraced his steps and found the recent footholds.  Stepping into a sloshed depression, the mushy ice suddenly gave way.  He tried to grab whatever he could, nothing.  Sliding on his stomach towards the river with increasing speed he felt helpless and inconsequential.  The rough ice was like sandpaper ripping at his exposed skin.  Death laughed in his face with open arms.  How long can I hold my breath?  How long will I survive the frigid thrashing waters?  How long will it take to die?  I am going to die!


“You are a Dival!  A disciple of destruction.  You thrive on power, murder, theft and disregard all life.  You chose that life.  The Dival Norad is deceit! ” Snowbeak did not break. 
“And the Temblor Khabal is not?” Pain entered Vrax’s right eye as a talon ripped it from its fleshy socket.  He roared in pain wildly spewing liquid flame in every random direction.  Snowbeak, faster than the sleekest of any dragon, raced with sonic speed by Vrax’s head again, ripping his tender nostrils.  Dregon blasted ice at the new contending wounds, freezing Vrax’s head.  His brain functions halted as he spun towards the mighty river of ice and vanished into the watery tumult.

A huge wave enveloped Taudfre from behind as he dangled on a short drop-off over the river.  The last remnant of body heat was washed away as his soul froze.  It turned pitch black when the lighted enchanted shield was swallowed by the river.  His boot knife, impelled in the ice, was the only lifeline prolonging an instant death.  Holding desperately to the knife’s handle his arms began to fatigue.  The river lapped his boots and taunted him with stinging spraying water.  A white unnatural light appeared upriver beside him.  A silver staff snaked its way around a blind edge of the vertical bank.  The reaching staff was almost in his face.  Onna!  Do I die headless first or jump into the river now? 
“Taudfre, grab the ‘furken’ staff!” Marcham yelled at the top of his lungs.
One last chance, praise Creation!  He dropped his shaking hands onto the metal staff as his body plunged into the river, pulling Marcham in.  Huge rapids churned and toiled as they both struggled to keep their heads above the bone-chilling liquid.  They choked on burning frozen water rushing down their lungs, coughing and gagging for air as their limbs went numb.  With bodies limp and non-functioning they bobbed up and down helplessly in a high speed torrent of doom.  Delusional thoughts intertwined with memories bombarded the synapses of recollection as they slowly succumbed to inevitable fate; Evaria dancing in the summer sweet smelling woods, dandelion skies, Onna caressing Marcham’s chest with warm husk-nut oil, Snowbeak’s prowess shining among peaks, Dregon the symbol of a new fresh life, comfort of the cozy great hall, autumn’s beautiful canvass of colors, smoke meats waffling in the crisp air, warm spring rains washing the world away, lush soft loam between the toes, crashing salty surf enveloping the body, gentle talons carrying away, skimming the water’s edge, glory of creation overlooking the vastness of the bluest ocean high above the Urthe,  gently gliding back to  green lands, wind whispers through hair, faster and faster the world blends like swirling sweet incense, bumping skulls cracking ice, darkness awakes dead cold, nothingness. 

WOOSH! An instantaneous raging fire erupted into a pillar of twisting orange and yellow.  The radiant heat permeated Marcham’s and Taudfre’s steaming leather armor.  Reality slapped them on the face as water escaped their lungs.  Spinning heads stopped, the world stood still.  They were back on icy hard ground staring into the eternal void above them.
“I almost lost you two in that disappearing river.  Only Creation knows where it ends up.  Scared the shingles off me!” Dregon’s heart was beating furiously.  He was happy to have his friends back alive, coughing and moving.  Marcham and Taudfre sat up shivering, exhausted and worn out.
“Just another average work day,” Taudfre rubbed water from his eyes.  “Are you alive my friend?”
Marcham replied solemnly, “I wasn’t ready to be baptized yet, but I’ll live.”
  “You still have Onna’s staff.  How did you manage that?”
“Because it’s hers, I couldn’t let go.  I guess it was a fool’s hope.  She fell and slipped into the river and vanished.  Just vanished.  Never said a word.  She’s gone, forever.  Not the kind of closure I was hoping for,” his eyes glazed over in the dancing flames.  “Her last words to me in the Cottonwoods were, ‘remember me in the stars, my love’.”  His eyes watered and he walked off into the dark.

They eventually dried out their belongings, repacked and fought their way up the glacial crevasse on winged-back.  They landed on top of the Demon’s Throne next to the pack of resting wolves.  Evaria was restless as they approached; she stood up and met Snowbeak with a hug.  The wolves were aroused, got up and all stayed put except for Broonzane.
“Well, ‘Ice Ghost’.  Do we still have a promise?” Broonzane said out loud.
Taudfre was impressed, “Amazing, I did not know your kind could speak Terrian.”
“Some of us can.  It depends on the inbreeding” the great wolf replied.  Broonzane had one green eye and a grey one that intersected a facial scar that ran from scalp to chin.  His white thick fur and black tipped tail hid a life time collection of battle scars that covered his entire body.
“So what is this promise, Snowbeak?” Taudfre was also curious; he would not like the answer.
“I promised my furry friends refuge from all of this,” spreading his wings towards the landscape and tower.  I promised them a new life, a new beginning, one without fear.  They have been chased, harassed and hunted down, seasons upon seasons, since leaving the service of the Narod, before I did.  I promised them a new home, with my protection, in the Vorandel.”
“That’s not all you promised” Broonzane said suspiciously.
  Snowbeak countered, “The promise was kept.  It is done.”
“The dragon still lives, ‘Ice Ghost’.” The wolf eyed Dregon with contempt.
  “What?” Dregon raised a brow.
Snowbeak fell into a command posture, “I promised you the silver dragon would be killed and it is so.”
“What am I looking at, a mirage?  Kill him” Broonzane demanded.
Dregon could not believe this conversation just fell off a cliff.  He just helped kill the masters that once enslaved and terrorized them.  Where was the gratitude?  Where did this instant detonation of hatred and malice come from?  Without a vocal command the other wolves trotted over and encircled Dregon, growling.  Really? Dregon thought jokingly.  Marcham slowly covered the hilt of his sword.  Taudfre did the same, his was not there. My shield is also gone.  Evaria was just about to take control of the conversation but was sidestepped by Snowbeak, “I never promised you all the silver dragons, your dragon is dead.  We killed him down in the glacier crevasse below.”
Broonzane’s battle-eyes tightened, “How dare you expect us to live with this evil creature.”
The great owl roared echoing in the distance, “You are talking about my brother, back down!”  Everyone was caught off guard.  “He is no more evil than you are!  He is the last known dragon in the Middle Realm and has been raised up in a time of peace, not of war.  He knows no evil!  He respects all living creatures including you.  If he had not learned this by now, then my little brother here would be coughing up fur balls all over this plateau right now!”  The wolves eyed one another.  “It is time for all of you to realize a new era of peace has been restored.  Everyone here has fought and died side by side tonight in restoring this peace.  Wake up!  If you want to live in fear the rest of your lives then stay here in Morgoth.  For those who wish a peaceful existence with all of Creation’s designs’, be prepared to leave for the Vorandel tonight.  This conversation is over!”  Broonzane froze in place processing this speech in his head, grudgingly.  He left the strangers as all the wolves regrouped in the distance.  Evaria, through thought, closed her eyes and was communicating the reassurance of Dregon’s integrity to them.
Taudfre nudged Snowbeak, “That was a nice speech.  Are you sure you were never a scurvy Ekaltlas politician?
  After minutes Broonzane yelled, “The Vorandel it is, lead on.”

Dregon and Taudfre secured the lava tower’s bottom entrances while Snowbeak carried the wolves, one by one, off the summit, knowing there may be Dark Magi still lurking in the corridors.  The party had now grown to fifty-eight legs strong and four wings proper.  It had taken longer to return home as they waited for the polar wolves, now known as the lucky thirteen, to find safe passage around the Yellow Smokey’s and fought three weeks of rough terrain.  The wolves eventually settled into their new territory high up throughout the primitive Vorandel Mountain Range.  They enjoyed the relief from the constant bitter cold of the Northern Realm and found many new and interesting culinary pleasures of hunted game.









































The tiny Khabal Sect gathered outside the great hall on the protruding canyon ledge, overlooking the misty Khlong Lan Falls.  The smell of evaporated spring waters and pine reinforced to everyone that they were safely back home.  The brilliant pink sunset bathed everything in a new light.
“Dregon, I promised you as a new member of the Temblor Khabal a celebration in your honor.  As is tradition, we will finalize your induction during the Spring Equinox.  You are the greatest example of honor and integrity that we hold in the highest regard of all creatures.  You have shown tremendous courage and discipline during these past few years and we accept you as our brother.  Be proud of who you are and let us help you in times of need and doubt.  We are your family.”  Taudfre crossed his arms over his chest signifying the Khabal’s respectful symbolic salute of honor.  Marcham and the others followed in unison. 
Taudfre continued, “Let us reflect with these past events.  The head of the rattle-day snake has been cut off.  The ‘snakes and arrows’ are broken.  The Dark Magi are leaderless which should give them an opportunity of freedom from oppression.  I hope they choose wisely, this time.  We know that the ‘vile one’ has stags hidden in the shadows throughout Urthe.  Hopefully news of his demise will travel fast and discourage these individuals from continuing on.  However, we still must be vigilant in recognizing these lurking dangers and suppress them whenever we can.”
Evaria spoke up, “Snowbeak, it has been decided, for now, that you take the Weapon of Judgment and hid it somewhere without our knowledge.  Secure it wisely, that wondering eyes may not find it.  No matter what power of justice is guided through this instrument it causes more greed, covetousness and contention than good.”
“Evaria, I’m sorry you were dragged into this unfortunate situation, as for everyone here.  It is so hard to trust people after a lifetime of mingling with those who spoke goodness from their lips but their hearts were black.  I’m so tired of it all.  But I am still proud of my family before me,” Said Marcham.  He handed her Onna’s silver staff, “Take this and lock it in the armory.  I’ve got to get back home and do some ‘house cleaning’.  Snowbeak I’m sorry for being agitated with you.  Please forgive me.”
“Hey, it just means you love me.” Snowbeak said jokingly.
On that note, Marcham hugged everyone, patted Dregon’s head and rode into the sunset back to the Cottonwoods.

Autumn exploded in a barrage of brilliant yellows, oranges and reds.  The Vorandel was aflame. The many sapphire lakes nestled between the thick evergreen forest, reflected billowy clouds in the cool late afternoon sky.  Frenzied fish jumped the water’s stillness attacking flies and insects, stuffing their bellies for winter’s approach.  Dregon’s scales mirrored nature’s camouflage, as he changed to another color.  He rested upon the upper surf of Lone Peak, soaking in the sun’s fading rays.  This was his favorite season out of all of them.  He enjoyed the scent of woodsy campfires and smokers from the valley below as everyone preserved an abundance of meat for storage.  The smell of the pines mixed with the Urthey decay of wet leaves, tantalized his nostrils.  This was the season of celebrations and harvest for all creatures.  Evaria and Taudfre also joined in the seasonal rituals, enjoying the bounties of nature, as they settled in for the coming frozen months ahead.  Marcham finally finished his ‘house cleaning’ with the ritual breaking and burning anything that was Onna’s.  He headed to the Cotton Bottom Inn to celebrate with his neighbors, consuming an abundance of delicious amberale.
Peace and calmness abounded as Dregon lay in solitude reflecting the summer’s past events.  He had yet to disclose, to the Temblor Khabal, the revealing information he had learned about his father and eldest brother, both of whom were enemies in the house of his friends.  Was Vrax telling the truth?  He did not kill Dregonus, their father?  The Khabal had just chanced upon the Weapon of Judgment that he briefly described.  What could these dark secrets be that the Khabal kept, if any?  Dregon saw nothing in the actions of his friends that resembled mistrust or a lack of honor.  He had found no lies or deceit among them.  Maybe there was a lack of information, from time to time, in protecting what was valuable but that was understood, right?  Onna was a friend in disguise, an enemy, who knew.  She caused a lot of heart ache for everyone.  Who are your friends Dregon?  How do you spot hidden enemies?  Why does there have to be any?  Why is there evil in this world?  I don’t want to be evil… It is so beautiful up here.

Snowbeak gently landed next to him and stared at the last rays of daylight, “Dregon I don’t think I ever told you, this is my favorite season.”  There was a prolong period of silence between them, except for the gentle tapping of falling leaves.  Snowbeak broke the calm, “I have secured the Weapon of Destruction.  It is in our cavern, up in the hollow.  You are the only one who knows this.” 
“I’m glad the weapon did not destroy you,” said Dregon.
“Me too, but I would have been all right with it.  There is another existence beyond our own, than either of us can understand and I welcome it.  I guess the secret is being prepared for when it comes,” Snowbeak reassured him.
“Do you think Vrax is dead?”
Snowbeak shook his head, “I do not see how he or Onna could have survived.  Do not ponder the past anymore, my brother.  Let it go.  Seek the future.  Seek Creation’s Will.  Enjoy what Creation has given us now.”  The magnificent sunset dropped below the horizon.