"We have not," said Merrin immediately. Here, at least, was something she could truthfully refute - as far as she knew. Pressing on, she reached again to wrap her fingers around Wyvern's ivory spike. "I know nothing of these - Shadowers - you speak of. How can you criticize us for serving our own purposes when you serve neither the Renegades nor the Meiltha?"

Feeling herself shrink inward under their scrutiny Merrin forced herself to continue. "We owe you nothing."

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"And me?" Asked Semri dangerousely "Am i also in this alliance, or am i simply to be disposed of?"

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Made by Lembas

Unperturbed, Commander Sunblade only regarded Merrin for a moment longer before turning to the mage Aremiscil. They conferred in low tones for a bit, Kendath snagging catches of a flowing language that brought to mind gently swaying aspens and fragranced breezes.

"Legions of undead," Sunblade elaborated wryly, turning back to the humans. "Ring a bell?"

Gyre started, though Kendath was hardly surprised. With no change in facial expression whatsoever, he asked slowly, "What do you know of them?"

A very faint scowl creased Sunblade's smooth, tanned visage. Apparently he didn't enjoy reversing the roles of interrogator and interrogated. "You're the ones they pursue," he posited, raising a feathery eyebrow. "Don't pretend. Our scouts reported back from the village."

Kendath suddenly recalled the necromancers' rite and the sacrifice they'd incorporated. An elf.

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Sudden comprehension flitted through Merrin's expression, it having been anxiously bewildered up until that moment. "Shadowers," she repeated slowly, raising her eyes. "That's what they're called, then." Memory of an icy blade, sightless eyes in a leering face, fingers reaching to grasp the living and draw them into the world of the dead...Merrin suppressed a shudder.

"Aye, they pursue us." Her voice was low, anxious. "What of it to you?" She had not been present at the rite, had not seen the elfmaid's lifeblood spilled to spawn a legion of undead warriors. Had she been, she might have better understood.

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The enemy of my enemy is my friend, was an ancient proverb in these parts, and Commander Sunblade had discerned enough of this young woman to see her nobility. His stony facade fell away just enough to reveal sorrow and a stoic resolve that surpassed centuries. "Their sacrifice..." he said quietly, turning his introspective gaze inward.

A troubled expression crossing his face, Aremiscil watched his commander anxiously before emphatically clearing his throat.

Abruptly Sunblade snapped out of it. "The Shadowers have been our enemies for eons," he said harshly. "I am surprised that Renegades remain ignorant, but your lifespans are shorter. Still, an attempt upon the very extinction of the gods should have lasted in your archives." He paused. "But that was ages ago, and the Shadowers are quite adept at erasing all evidence."

Kendath's brow furrowed. Extinction of the gods? He shot a glance at Merrin.

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Merrin too was frowning, blue eyes clouded in thought. "Extinction of the gods?" she repeated slowly. If that was ages ago now, some remnant might have survived through the archives; but in the time, two thousand years later, that Merrin lived, even the vaguest mention of this attempt upon the sovereigneity of the gods would be long since gone.

"I know nothing of that which you speak of," she said. "But if the Shadowers are your enemies, we are allies - for they are ours as well."

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Garthag stared the lich with cold eyes, trying to determine was the lich reliable and whether there was more to it. Apparently the lich needed him and realised that he was not to meddled with due to this alliance offer not to mention the exhange of words with the necromancers. Garthag gazed quickly at Semri and smirked at her before turning to the lich.

"I am afrai that this alliance seems to serve your cause more than mine, but I accept as I might need a hand when time comes to kill my old friend... and Semri worry not. You are my ally thus our friend here will respect that alliance as he has swore one with me, am I not correct? Because I do hope we can act like civilized beings"

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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!

Semri nodded, her insecurity, which ussually resulted in someones death, placated. "Civilisation would kill us if it could Garthag, i for one have forsworn it and every moral it holds." She laughed

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Made by Lembas

LDM, your post on the last page = I love long posts.

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Adanil sighed in relief when Sunblade turned to question Merrin instead of him. He doubted he could have told them anything useful anyways, but the Elf's stare was daunting. It was far more piercing than any Adanil had seen before--the legendary being seemed to see far more deeply than the farmer liked.

Then they started talking about the Shadowers. Adanil felt a dread growing on his mind at that name, coupled with the increase in his desire for vengeance. It was not much of a surprise to find out that they were the monsters that had destroyed his village. In fact, he had been almost expecting it--why would beings as wise as the Elves mention things like the Shadowers if it did not somehow pertain to the threesome?

What they were saying about the Dragonriders was interesting, though. They were Renegades, but had their own purpose? At least that settled the question of whether or not they were Meiltha--surely if the Elf said it then it was true. Yet what purpose were the duo working to accomplish on their own? With a battle so soon at hand, shouldn't they be joining with the main Renegade army? Their dragons were far smaller than those that had been at Baste, but maybe that would not be a serious disadvantage in a fight. After all, he never claimed to know anything about large battles--the Dragons could be all the better for being smaller.

And yet there was also the gods and the Shadowers. How could something try to destroy the gods? Was there even a way to extinguish their holy presence? He knew that the Meiltha desired to do that, but he had always been under the impression it was impossible. What if it wasn't? He felt a shudder pass through him at that thought, and clenched his jaw. He should have been beyond that by now--he didn't want anyone thinking he was a weakling simply because he shuddered at thoughts that terrifying. And what could be more terrifying than the gods being destroyed? Adanil could not think of any.

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"Excellent," the Lich replied. He signaled to dismiss his underlings - they knew their duties. "The only condition I humbly request is that you allow me leave at nightfall tomorrow, as there is urgent business I must attend to before I can rejoin your august quest." He bowed, then gestured. "Shall we open a portal to the north then?"

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"The name of your faction. Renegade. Have you never wondered at its origin?" Commander Sunblade asked casually, raising an eyebrow. He waited, and when it became apparent that both Merrin and the Renegade disgrace beside her were blank, he gestured at Master Aremiscil. "Perhaps the savant can explain it better than I."

Aremiscil glared at his officer - who only stared innocently back - before settling into a pensive stance. "Second Age, First Dragonwar. The Shadowers were a less experienced but no less powerful group then. For them, the gods embodied everything that they despised - life."

Had Kendath been possessed of less discipline, he would have snorted. No surprises there.

"They discovered the secrets of the Celestial Eye quickly enough, discovered that it was the sole link that bonded the gods to this world. And so, at the climax of the First Dragonwar, they shattered the prism, engendering in its stead a void of oblivion. The gods were severed. The magic released by this cataclysm literally destroyed everything within a thousand mile radius. Magic ran amok, sweeping the continents. One thousand years. The kingdoms of this land cried out to the gods but received nothing in response. They became bitter, angry, certain the gods had abandoned them on capricious whim." Aremiscil smiled wryly and extended a hand. Contempt ran like an undercurrent through his mellifluous voice. "And here the Shadowers proved their inexperience. Anyone who truly understands the principles governing magic would know that power of this magnitude cannot run rampant forever. Where did it go?"

He paused for effect before continuing, "Why, right back into the vortex. One thousand years of divine sequestration, then another thousand of rebuilding the Divine Shards. The gods' reemergence into this world was agonizingly slow. At first the mortals spurned them, dared them to return to the land they had so tempestuously forsaken. It was only after the Druid Lord Eruditis united a band of priests and unblinded them to the truth did the gods once again receive the veneration they were due. Eruditis called his band the Divine Order. The rest of the world called them Renegades."

For a long while there was only silence as Adanil and the dragonriders assimilated this. At length Gyre opined quietly, "The Shadowers are stirring again."

Aremiscil nodded. "We know their plans. They have learned from their mistake. Instead of abrupt destruction, they intend to steal a single Divine Shard, slowly leeching the prism from within so that even the gods may not notice until it is too late." He stared directly at Wyvern and Gyre. "Coincidentally, the children of the gods may be the first to suffer."

"A thousand thanks, Master Aremiscil, that was highly enlightening," Commander Eur'ielan commented. The full gravity of his icy gaze once more encompassed their captives. "Now that you know, can you happen to think of why the Shadowers might be after you?"

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Merrin struggled for a moment to comprehend this sudden wealth of information. The Celestial Eye, the Shadowers - this Divine Shard. She bit her lip. Of course she could imagine why the Shadowers were after her. She, blessed of the gods, sent to prevent what was even now happening. Unknowingly her fingers tightened around Wyvern's spike.

"Aye," she replied, breathless. "I - can imagine." Could she tell them she was favored by the gods without revealing their travel back in time, from two thousand years in the future? Merrin forced herself not to look at Kendath for help. Could it hurt...?

Before she had time to talk herself out of it Merrin took the plunge, and began shakily. "I - ever since I can remember I have heard the gods, heard them talk to me. Some have called me blessed, favored. These, these Shadowers, they're looking for me."

She took a breath, a gulp for air. "I'm the one they want."

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Kendath's sharp intake of breath did not go unnoticed by the perspicacious Commander Sunblade. Either this girl was an excellent actress, or she was actually speaking the truth. "Blessed of the gods," he mused aloud. "We elves do not worship the gods, but we do worship the life in the earth and air. Your heart is noble and your cause just. You are free to go." He turned to leave, then looked back over his shoulder at the last moment. "You are free to travel with us if you wish. Our goal coincides with yours."

Kendath let his breath go, but the next instant his temperament was not much improved. Travelling with these cold, imperious elves. Joy.

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Merrin let her held breath go in a shaky exhale. She had forgotten, for a moment, that these Elves were not the callous Meiltha, who would have turned her over to the Shadowers in a heartbeat with no thought for anything but their own personal gain. With a grin, rarely seen now that the world seemed forever pressing on her shoulders, she turned to Kendath before replying. His less than impressed look was not lost on her.

"I thank you," she said by way of reply. "But for our own purposes I think it best that we travel alone."

Wyvern rumbled doubtfully. "Their protection could be invaluable, Merrin."

"Protection's no good if it makes our party larger," said Merrin. "We need secrecy, not safety."

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Commander Sunblade shrugged. "As you wish." One more penetrating look, and he strode off, tacitly implying their encounter to be terminated.

As such, Kendath thought it not only wise but satisfying to leave this camp as soon as possible. They were already receiving uncomfortably curious glances from the other elven warriors milling about the camp. They moved off into the serried forest, and he mounted Gyre. He paused to study Merrin before their takeoff. He realized that he'd allowed her, without question, to be the spokesperson for their entire group. His own less than glib tongue? Trust? With a shrug, he attempted to banish the thought as the jade dragon beneath him gained altitude.

But the puzzle nonetheless stayed with him for the rest of the day.

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"High altitudes," Gyre explained, panting as she alighted upon the mountain's sparse slopes. The sliver of sun still remaining in the west dimly illuminated the majestic peaks of stone that jabbed into the heavens.

His boots crunching in the fresh layer of snow, Kendath slid off the saddle and patted his dragon's heaving flank. Tilting his head, he gazed up the barren slopes above them. Another few hours would bring them over the peaks and into the Valley of Ancients. Shivering in the cold, he scanned the surrounding terrain and found a small alcove set in the mountain that offered some respite from the frigid winds.

This would not prove to be an enjoyable night.

By the time the sun slid over the horizon, bearing with it the last vestiges of warmth upon this unforgiving taiga, the dragonriders had a doubtful fire going underneath the alcove's sheltering overhang. Gyre and Wyvern curled nearby to share body heat. Kendath leaned back and prodded the two rabbits - fruition of a short hunt earlier - roasting over the fire.

"Does it look burnt yet?" he asked Merrin with a wince.

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"I can't tell," said Merrin - or more accurately, chattered Merrin - who was wrapped in her silver cloak and still shivering. She squinted at the pair of stringy rabbits. "One side's burnt, but the other one still looks raw." She pushed the thought of Elven fires and neat portions of traveling rations out of her head. "Here, let me."

She moved closer, one hand still hold her cloak about her shoulders, and turned the spit upon which the unfortunate creatures were impaled. The fire was rearranged forthwith with the first stick that came readily to hand, and their dinner looked marginally better. Merrin gave it a doubtful look and sat back on her heels with a glance at the faint glow over the mountaintops that was the last vestiges of sunlight.

There was a silence in which the coals glowed valiantly and Merrin regarded the fire with an air of contemplation. Finally she glanced up, at both Kendath and Adanil. "It's at times like this when I find myself constantly having to be reminded that only fools do not feel fear." The eve of battle made her stomach knot, as it always did, and as always she fought off a sense of shame at her trepidation.

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[Aerandir, if you're still with us, change that to three rabbits ]

Kendath was dubiously eyeing the morsel on his spit. The effects of asking him to cook - to him, roasting rabbits over a fire was an art he'd yet to master despite all his solitary journeys. He was just turning the rod over and wondering if the burnt and smoldering haunch was edible, when Merrin spoke up.

"Fear is a curious thing," he lectured helpfully. At least staring at his lovely dinner spared him the necessity to look up. With a profound sigh he set the spit down and looked at her with slightly more solemnity. "A weakness?"

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