Yesssss that is an intresting point...Hissed Rano quitly while Semri regared Lich questionaly.

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Made by Lembas

"Empire?" the Lich replied with a snort, though the idea was strangely tempting. An instant later he dismissed his petty ambition. The Shadowers had ever operated as an occult band, quietly infiltrating and just as quietly retreating once they'd obtained their objective. It was the only way an order with their interests had survived this long when all others had long since fallen into dissolution.

He noted that their conversation was lagging on quite boringly with a noticeable lack of courtesy on his part. After all, he couldn't be a tactless host. With a softly spoken word he conjured a small ebony table upon which sat a crystalline decanter and three wine glasses. He poured one for himself and one for each guest, which he offered to them generously.

"This dragon you're after," he continued in conversational tones. "Tell me about him."

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Merrin clenched her hands into fists, trying to quell their trembling, and said nothing, only attempted as best she could to help him. She exhaled sharply as pain lanced up her leg, and before she could stop herself glanced up at his face, searching for - what? What was it she wanted to see?

As he helped her wind some fragment of bandage around her shin Merrin hesitated, and before rising unsteadily to her feet caught at his hand to stop him doing the same. Hers was cold, and though not shaking as violently as it had, not steady either. "I...I'm glad you're all right," she managed, voice breathless. "Thank you."

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Kendath nodded curtly, emphatically ignoring the lump that'd just risen in his throat. But belying his stone hard face was his callused hand, which wrapped around Merrin's smaller one as though to quench her trembling coldness. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before helping her onto Wyvern.

"All haste to Baste," he said, referring to the destination he'd named earlier at the village inn. He returned to get on Gyre and made room behind him for Adanil. He glanced at Merrin. "You still need a priest." Without further ado Gyre spread her wings and gained altitude, lifting up into the crisp air.

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Merrin opened her mouth to contradict him and found that the words wouldn't come - likely because it was true, she needed that very thing. Wyvern fixed her with a reproachful stare. Don't you protest.

But as they lifted skywards Merrin found she could smile down at her hands where they clutched the flight saddle, no longer trembling; and know somehow that she never could have if it weren't for the black-cloaked figure atop Gyre ahead of them, and the fact that the memory of his hand around hers made the world seem suddenly brighter.

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By mid-afternoon, the seaport of Baste was glittering on the horizon. Or rather, the august white-sailed ships docked at its extensive deep-water harbor. They gleamed in the sunlight minutes before the multifarious architecture that defined the city's culture loomed into view - the gracefully soaring spires, gifts from the elves, breaking the horizon first. Baste's prosperity had long overflowed its inner walls of impregnable dwarven construction. The city sprawled out like a bloated eagle, a harbor for pirates and thieves and lowlifes but also for nobility and beauty - a standing representation of all the races and cultures upon the continent.

The azure skies above the seaport fairly teemed with Renegade dragonriders. In good humor Gyre called out greetings to a few before spiraling down to land outside the southern gates. A contingent of cavalry decked out in full battle regalia, their armor and shields glinting gold under the sunlight, was just parading by. She kept her distance as to not scare the horses, then dropped Kendath off on the main road.

What do you intend to do here exactly?

Find a library or perhaps even a historian to answer a few questions about the Valley of Ancients... and our pursuers.

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Wyvern, in innocent interest, swooped around several of the city's gleaming white spires, reaching as they did into the azure heavens. After a moment of hovering to survey the teeming streets with interest he followed Gyre, and paused to make entirely sure Merrin was steady on her feet before again taking off with the eager explanation - dinner.

Merrin grinned after him, and herself turned to survey Baste's alabaster walls and toweringly intricate architecture. This was so different fron Vryngard, no closed tunnels or yawning caverns - rather streets filled with people of such differing backgrounds and races that Merrin could hardly identify half of them, and marketplaces so sprawling that their colored tents spread like patchwork for what seemed miles on end.

More dragons than she'd ever seen in one place, and all larger by far than Wyvern or Gyre, seemed a familiar sight here. They came in colors she could not name, hues of dazzling red-gold and jewel-bright turquoise.

Feeling awed herself Merrin tossed a grin Adanil's direction. She'd lived a peasant's life until nearing her seventeenth birthday, and had she been dropped into a metropolis like Baste then she felt sure her mouth would have been perpetually open in amazement. "Does it make you feel small, too?"

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His sorrow temporarily forgotten in the awe of the moment, Adanil stared. Cities could be this big? He had heard of them, but he had scoffed at the traveller's tales about their size, thinking that people wouldn't be able to stand living so close to each other. Yet this was huge! He felt something wet trickling down his chin and blushed, closing his mouth quickly as he realized that he was drooling from having it hang open too long. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he continued to stare around, his eyes practically falling out of his face. There were so many Dragonriders! Here he was, on the first day of his adventure, and he had already seen far more Dragonriders and Dragons than he had thought to in a few years!

"Does it make you feel small, too?" Merrin asked him. He nodded silently. He felt tiny compared to this city. He felt embarassed about his village, and its simplicity compared to this place. How could so many people live so close to each other?

As the column of cavalry paraded by, Adanil felt his gaze drawn to them. Sunlight glinted off of the points of their long lances. They seemed curiously out of place among the beauty of the city--a stark reminder of the dangers of the world.

"What are they guarding against?" he asked. Surely a city this big wouldn't have to worry about attacks, unless the offending army was huge, and they had seen no sign of any like that, so far as he remembered.

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"War," Kendath replied with a hard glint in his eyes. He too found himself drawn to the pristine walls and guard towers that stabbed into the heavens like divine fingers. He'd only visited this place once, four years ago, and the memory had been of flaming trebuchets and skies black with arrows - a battle when the Meiltha had nearly razed it to the ground. Two thousand years from now, Baste's alabaster beauty would fall into dissolution. The Baste he remembered was twice this size but bloated like the dead fish in its empty harbor. He remembered none of the richness, the diversity...

But all things change with time. It seemed that the golden ages of civilization were dissipating along with their precious dragons.

The merchant line entering the port at this hour was next to nothing. They fell into place behind the cavalry. Courtesy of Merrin's silver cloak that blatantly announced her as Renegade dragonrider, they passed through the gilded gates without a third glance. As soon as they entered, they felt themselves pulled along by the currents of crowds flooding the wide streets. Burning incense masked the heavy reek of fresh fish. Over the din of the marketday crowds, venders shouted colorful insults back and forth in even more colorful languages. Trumpets blared, and the crowds in front of them fell back to allow the parading cavalry a wide berth.

Kendath would have never spotted their objective if not for the clarion bells that chimed, carrying a soothing serenity over the discordance on the streets. He nudged Merrin and pointed at the rise in the center of the city, upon which sat the chaste structure that was the high temple.

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Merrin felt suddenly awed by the towering structure, presiding over the city like a great dragon itself, reaching into the sky as if poised at any moment to take flight. Vryngard had no such temple, nor did any city she'd ever seen....another testament that with time faded prosperity, dragonkind and even faith. She nodded, wondering half in excitement and half in timidity if the gods were so very different two thousand years ago.

No. The people were different.

They ascended slowly, through streets ever-rising, Merrin examining every detail of the temple as they went. How she wished...but no use wishing.

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Adanil shook his head. It seemed life outside of his village would do nothing but correct his previous opinion of the world for a while. If there were armies that could destroy this city, events must be bigger than he realized--and thus more dramatic--which made his village seem all the smaller and simpler.

He stared around as they passed through the city, his earlier awe simply increasing in scale. It was so crowded! The sheer numbers and differences of the people was almost overwhelming.

The buildings were enormous, too. Some of the houses went up three or four stories, not to mention the occasional palace for some official or another. And then there was the market. It seemed that wherever he looked, there were more stalls with more goods. He had never imagined there were so many different types of fish, fruit, vegetables, or tools! What did people do with it all, anyway?

And yet in the center of the city, small compared to some of the other structures, yet oddly eye-drawing, stood a queer building, situated on a small hill. It looked more simple and yet more complicated than any building Adanil had ever seen--not that that said much--in his life. On it was the symbol of the gods. He was pretty sure that that made it a temple, then. A place where a person could commune with the gods themselves. He felt his awe increase threefold at that thought. This city was great enough to have a temple. This city was visited by the gods.

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"We seem to be telling you an awful lot...i have betrayed too many times for information to let another do it to me. Why should we tell you?" Asked Semri not touching the wine.

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Made by Lembas

It seemed as if a mantle of silence had fallen over the world as soon as they left the bustling marketplace behind and entered the wealthy district. The high temple stood just ahead, its immaculate gates wide open. From its garden wafted the tranquil scent of lavender and lilacs. As they proceeded over the white flagstones, chirping songbirds and the serene trickling of fountains drifted to their ears. They left the soft shadows of the garden behind to emerge into the temple's central courtyard.

The temple itself boasted intricate columns in the place of oppressing walls, allowing zephyres to caress its interior at ease. Three wide, sweeping stairs led to a marble walkway that collided at the temple's far end with towering statues of seven gods, each with an altar before its feet.

A priestess in gold-hemmed white robes glided over to meet them. "May light from the heavens guide your path," she greeted with a smile, then waited, as if expectant. Kendath surmised this to be an ancient Renegade greeting - much like the markedly less altruistic Meiltha version - and glanced over at Merrin.

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"And may darkness never cause you to stumble," returned Merrin almost automatically. She instantly wondered how she must look to this pristinely garbed woman, exhausted and jaded - as they all were - from travel and pursuit, but pushed the thought away. "I'm Merrin. Merrin Dragonrider."

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If the priestess harbored any patronizing thoughts at all, she hid them well. She extended one shapely hand towards Merrin's forehead. Her beautiful face broke into a genuine smile. "The glory of the gods truly graces you, Merrin Dragonrider." Her smile faded away, and her eyes clouded with concern. "But death slowly eats at your soul. You carry a wound that seeks cleansing. Come."

She led the way onto a path that ramified from the main temple structure to an accumulation of simple but graceful marble dwellings a small ways off. She showed them into the largest one. The vast circular chamber, comfortably sunlit and filled with the scent of lavender, was occupied by soft pallets spread onto the floor. At the moment about a fifth of them were occupied with soldiers wounded on duty. "Wait here," the priestess told them.

After she left, Kendath found himself feeling oddly elated. The air here was crisp and clean - he'd never breathed better. But more poignant than any physical aspect was his sensation of liberation, as if a part of his soul had suddenly sprouted wings. But an instant later, as soon as he became conscious of the sensation, he jerked himself back to earth. He'd almost been fully seduced by the empty promises of the gods twenty years ago - and the effect had nearly destroyed him.

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Merrin sank gratefully onto one of the soft, faintly sweet-smelling pallets, wishing suddenly to sleep then and there. This was a welcome change after their latest escapades. Instead, though, she sat up and forced herself to pay due attention to the stabs of pain that had been forcing their way up from her half-numb ankle for the past hour or so.

Somehow her earlier panic and dizzy fright had dissipated - the gods felt ever closer here, which was more comforting even than the touch of Kendath's hand, a thought that made Merrin grin to herself - but the unhealthily pallid skin that met her eyes as she pulled off her boot was a vivid reminder. Merrin winced.

A cursory glance up made her stop for a moment to again wonder what it was that Kendath thought when his face wore that curious expression. Perhaps the automatic peace she felt upon entering a dwelling so near to the beings who graced her with their gift was not his?

Another moment and Merrin ventured, "What are you thinking of?"

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