Kendath glimpsed a silver streak plummeting their way. Relief deluged him at the sight of someone familiar in this abyssal level of chaos. Turning his attention back to his wounded dragon, he produced a jar of enchanted earthen-hued salve.

With a grimace Gyre crouched low and turned her injured wing towards him. Cartilage tangled with fine membrane where the enemy dragon's spiked tail had lacerated her joint. Steaming blood dripped methodically from the wound. ...hurts...

Healing isn't my hallmark, but I'll do my best.

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(i'm so sorry, but i have my school play on at the moemnt abd i don't get back till 10pm and i start the day at 7am)

Jemx saw a dragon above him and flew up, only then did he recognise Demon. Are you here as Meiltha or as a pawn of Semri? He asked hopefully.

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Made by Lembas

"Pawn?" Demon exclaimed, rage twisting his already fearsome features. "I am no one's pawn! I come as Meiltha." He jerked his head towards the lights of Vryngard. He'd been scouting the area and considered it quite resourceful on his part to conjure a laconic report. "Evlyn is being held in the dungeons. The Star Crystal is returned to Vryngard, but the traitors" - and here his voice grated in fury that sufficiently masked his still existent pain of betrayal - "are gone. The portal is still open, protected by no less than two powerful Renegade mages and two more Druids."

His eyes narrowed in distaste at the horde that Jemx had brought with him. His voice dripped with satirical impatience. "What do you intend to do - raze Vryngard to the ground? A smaller infiltration force would be by far more efficient."

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Wyvern landed heavily inside the encircling stone monoliths, listing to favor his injured side. His breath rasped painfully, sparks flying from his gaping maw as he gulped air.

Merrin could feel his pain and unreasoning fear through their mental link. She slid from the saddle, hands already moving to assess the damage done to his scaled flank - she seemed hardly to feel her own wounds. "You alright?" she gasped in Kendath's general direction, Wyvern's panic emanating through her mind making her no calmer.

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"Fine," Kendath replied. "And you - "

His words were cut short by a low, clarion horn call that carried over the barren wasteland. Startled, he straightened and whipped around. From his vantage point on the rise, he could see the entire battlefield shifting, as if... The epiphany struck him with sinking dread. Outnumbered by a threefold, both Renegade fronts were giving ground, dividing into organized flanks and rapidly retreating. Communal bellows of triumph resounded from the Meiltha fronts as they surged forward in unison, beating the Renegades back and forcing them into even faster retreat.

Kendath took one look at the enemy numbers surging their general direction and cursed under his breath. They were directly in the line of slaughter. Thinking quickly, he crossed the gap between himself and Merrin in three long strides. Unsheathing his falchion in a fluid motion, he seized a handful of her soft chestnut hair and yanked it back, placing his blade at her bare throat.

Shocked, Gyre started forward. Kendath -

Quiet. He shot a similar threatening glare at Wyvern before moving back towards his own dragon, Merrin in tow.

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Merrin's first instinct was to jerk away - but the glittering blade at her throat made her freeze in mid-motion. "What are you doing?" she hissed incredulously, panting for breath. Wyvern likewise was frozen, whirling emerald eyes fixed on the pair. In bewilderment Merrin took in the rapidly advancing Meiltha troops. Still she did not understand, and made to pull away -

No - Merrin, trust him. Wyvern sounded unsure himself, but his advice gave Merrin pause and she remained very still. Our lives may hang in the balance.

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Jemx shook his head mornfully. "I know Demon, and i did not think you would betray us." He looked at the force behind him. "They wern't my idia is all i can say. Commander Sequor took comand as soon as i had told him what was happening....what can you tell us of thier defenses, i can only see what Evlyn sees which is not helpful for an attack."

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Made by Lembas

"He knows nothing," growled a new voice, low and with the undertone of a snarl in the darkness. "Vryngard's outer defences are nearly impenetrable in any case. Unless..." and here the voice took a breath, and sparks for a moment lit the night. "One has inside help."

Now a pair of cold eyes, red as raging fire and yet icy, could be seen luminously glowing - a third participant, for who knew how long, in the hushed conversation. A sound of flapping, muffled, and they had drawn level. Barely visible in the night a black dragon hovered, his rider still invisible and silent.

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His dagger still at her throat, Kendath walked her over to Gyre and mounted, sitting her in front of him. The situation reminded him of their first encounter, but all sentiments ended there as the Meiltha hordes approached. Their voices were lifted in a communal battle chant, a cry of exultation that beat upon the backs of the retreating Renegades like thunder.

Kendath threw his cloak back so that both the Meiltha attire he'd never bothered to change and the falchion with their insignia were displayed in perspicuous view. Familiar with the cruel words of the battle chant, he punched his fist into the air and joined in. Contrary to her rider's cold pragmatism, Gyre's revulsion was complete as she lifted into the air beside the enemies she'd sworn from her egg to defeat. She turned her head to flick her rider a frown that promised future discussion.

Within the hour, the Meiltha had taken their share of prisoners and ruthlessly slaughtered the rest. As the first shadows of nightfall tinted the ardent skies, they regrouped to make camp on their claimed battlefield.

By sheer coincidence, as Gyre drifted down on the edge of the massive encampment, Kendath glanced at the encircling stone monoliths and was struck by an uncanny deja vu. Sentinels of oblivion, silhouetted against the first tendrils of flame that streaked blood across vermilion skies... His mouth pulled down in a frown. Where had he read those words before?

A gruff voice jolted him from his ponderings. "...better be High Renegade." He returned to greet the scowling face of a Meiltha commander - one of those moving around to collect the prisoners. The man nodded at Merrin. "She of any use at all?"

"A Renegade scout," Kendath elucidated, carelessly shoving Merrin into the dirt before him. "And a dragon as a bonus," he added, gesturing towards Wyvern.

But the preoccupied officer had already moved on, leaving two subordinates in his wake to collect the prisoner.

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Merrin cried out, a sound quickly muffled, as she fell on her injured arm and was summarily hauled to her feet by that same appendage.

Wyvern lunged forward with a snarl and was quickly subdued by two of the intimidating Meiltha dragons. They seemed endless, the camp full of towering sinister reptilian figures.

Every ounce of Merrin's determination went into keeping herself even conscious as she reeled, blood loss making her faint, let alone some feeble token struggle that would be absolutely fruitless but still she felt obliged to do. She could not keep herself from throwing Kendath a desperate glance - she was no High Renegade, as would be quickly apparent, and once they found out? He'll be fine, she thought bitterly, her trust worn sorely thin, but there's no guarantee they'll even let me live...

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The two Meiltha soldiers dragged Merrin across camp and unceremoniously dumped her to the ground near an accumulation of other more or less hale prisoners.

By the time the interrogators were done with them, the Meiltha soldiers thought with certainty as they moved off, "hale" would hardly be a fitting adjective. Already Meiltha mages and clerics skilled in the art of torture were moving among the first line of prisoners. And the agonized screams of those unfortunate to be caught under their scourge pierced the night.

-----------

Generally circumventing the lighthearted, boisterous war stories told around the scores of celebrating campfires, Kendath stole stealthily yet not so stealthily across the army encampment. He'd long since mastered the art of making himself appear inconspicuous yet not blatantly so, one with the shadows yet still openly displaying his face.

His path was clear. The dissension of tortured screams splitting the night above the harmony of cheery palaver guided his way.

Hovering in the velvety skies above him, Gyre touched his mind with her own. And this time, her thoughts were not so gentle. I have underestimated you.

There's gratefulness for you. I've just saved our lives.

Your life, perhaps, came the equally glib retort. You knew. Once the Meiltha mages have her, there is no escape. Only death. You are familiar with their ways, are you not?

Unperturbed, Kendath shrugged. So you think our chances of escaping greater if we all get clapped in irons?

I think that you should have stood beside the truth, instead of cowering in the shadows like the craven -

- the craven Meiltha I am. Welcome to the realm of survival.

Disgust tinged Gyre's normally serene facade. I have underestimated you. It seems you would gladly endanger the lives of your friends in exchange for your own convenience. How can you know that those screams you hear are not Merrin's?

The last thought stung him enough to make him pause in his tracks. The next instant he was gone, coercing himself once more into the familiar world of apathy and the steel belief that - firstly, Gyre's accusations were on the mark. Secondly, he had nothing of substance to reply with. And thirdly, he didn't care.

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The only thing keeping Merrin from bursting into tears of absolute terror was the thought that the gods would not have sent her here only for her to die. She clung to it with all her might, watching the mages move inexorably closer and refusing to look at the madness left in their wake. Gods, I trust him, she pleaded mutely, eyes fixed on the faint stars. Even now, with agonized screams piercing the air around her, did she still trust him, she wondered, and found that she did - found that what she wanted most at this moment was for Kendath to appear, to save her. She clenched her fists to halt her hands trembling. Please, please keep me and Wyvern safe... she pleaded of the silent deities, who now seemed as distant as the stars overhead.

Merrin's willpower was slowly deteriorating into fear as nothing happened, as the screams grew ever louder and closer - but suddenly the manacles about her wrists came silently open. This was by no means her salvation, but it was certainly a start, she thought with a faint vestige of something resembling hope, and glanced furtively around. What now?

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The mage spoke another command word, and the manacles on her ankles clicked open as well. Robed in dark green robes morbidly splattered with blood, the man was all business as he launched into yet another spell - one that rendered all Merrin's limbs helpless save her mouth.

It also produced another desirable side effect. Now Merrin's frozen gaze was drawn inexorably to the cold black depths of her interrogator's. "Who are you?" he hissed in a voice that brooked no lenience.

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The cries of others tortured echoed in Merrin's head and any thoughts of resistance flew. "M-Merrin Dragonrider," she stammered, trying in a haze of panic to move something, anything, to tear her gaze from those awful unending depths of inky blackness. I don't know anything, I can't tell them anything - but oh, what will he do? she thought, quailing, willing herself not to show her abject terror and knowing it was futile to try and conceal it.

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Who are you? hissed Jemx to the unseen rider.

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Made by Lembas

(I came up with a small plot twist here, lets just pretend that the things go like this)

Garthag after sometime of careful casting finalized his spell, the portal opened before him and he grinned widely at the sight. He immidiately walked trough with the crystal in his hands, but instead of the ice cave he expected to see, a view of carnage opened before him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Garthag said in quiet disbelief as he watched the battlefield opening before him, he had a strong clue of where he was and what this battle was about. Yet had he not designated the destination of the journey? Was he not the master? Garthag feverously glanced at the crystal and to his surprise it responded in his mind.

All paths lead here, this is a history defining and explaining time and place, to understand the present you must see what happened here. Why the world was what it was and why you are what you are

Garthag sighed and gazed at the battle, blood and bodies fell from the skies, riders and dragons bleeding together, dying side by side for their blind cause. All Garthag saw here was a battle of good and evil, a battle that should have never took place because there is no victory in neither of them. The evil shall perish in the hands of the good yet the good must sacrifice themselves in order to defeat this evil they face, that was why Garthag never wished to consider himself either. Funny enough, he sensed another portal opening to the same nearby terrain and it was apparent that someone else was here....

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!