Kendath couldn't deny his ankle singing in relief when Adanil lifted Merrin away. Glancing back one last time over his shoulder at the Celestial Eye that seemed about to explode any instant now, he entered the portal one step ahead of Commander Sunblade.

Nothing could have prepared him for the other side.

It was like stepping through a mirror, an alternate reality where he and his companions all stood upon the temple's columned dais. The same mountain panorama stretched on around them, and the same valley below. With a few notable differences. This plane was empty, devoid of all life save for the intruders that'd just stepped through the portal. Everything - the snow, the mountains, even the very air - bore a rusty hue punctuated by globes of darkness that drifted like languid clouds of maggots. And perhaps the most notable contrast of all... the absence of the Celestial Eye. In this realm of insalubrious death, life had no place.

"The interplane," Master Aremicil breathed, coming over as soon as Sunblade crossed the portal. "No, this is not the netherplane, but a division of space and time between..."

A sluggish but ultimately comforting tingling at the back of his mind, and Kendath once more felt the presence he'd lacked all through the past battle. Gyre.

Her response seemed to echo from across a rift. ...Kendath...

Gyre, where are you?

Her voice cracked with something more than physical weakness. I don't... I don't know... A long pause. I see the temple, Ken. But it is not beautiful. It is foul and degenerated and... it is... eastward...

We're coming. He noticed Adanil coming through with Merrin and nearly stumbled over himself to get there. Taking her from the former farmer's arms with a genuine nod of thanks, he gently laid her on the ground, cradling her head as he fumbled for her pulse. Reluctantly throbbing. Not good. His hand darted to her mouth, where he felt the faintest of breaths. No physical injury in sight, though her injury seemed far beyond physical. His finger moved to trace a line down her ashen cheek, down to her jawline, then across her lips.

What had happened? The poignant pain at almost losing her still stabbed through him, searing like fire and chilling like ice - a pain he'd vowed long ago to never experience again. Was he so dissolute in his self control? Had his own weakness truly led him to believe that he'd found a purpose, something greater in life? Hells below, she was chosen of the gods! They would one day return with vindictive wrath to claim her and take her away...

Abruptly he let his hand drop. Rising to his feet, he shifted inquiring eyes to their unexpected elven saviors. "First of all, our thanks for your timely arrival," he began bluntly, glancing at Adanil as well. "Second, our dragons are on this plane, west of our position. Third, what of the Shadowers?"

Commander Eur'ielan Sunblade, snapping back from counting their losses, darkened his expression. "They succeeded. One of the Divine Shards is now in their possession."

"They should be making swift progress to their fortress now," Aremicil added from where he'd been tending a wounded ranger. "This plane is their element, and they have mastered the art of shadow walking." His condescending mien waxed ever the more pronounced. "Death is more imminent upon you humans than it is for us. Remaining in this plane for long can kill you."

-----------

"Not here?" the Lich reiterated, raising an eyebrow. He obviously suspected a trap, through Garthag's frustration seemed genuine. He shot a glance at Semri. "The importunate Renegade pair do not have the Crystal with them or we would know." His rasping tone carried a caustic undercurrent, as though suggesting the contrary was a direct insult to his order's aspired omniscience.

Suddenly a cataclysmic tremor rippled through the very bowels of the mountain, ensued by an ominous rumble as the tunnel threatened to collapse. Recognizing its implications, the Lich shrieked out a command and shot his hand upwards. Magic blossumed from his upturned palm, cascading down in a puissant shield around them as boulder-sized debris crashed down from the ceiling.

When the dust cleared at last, he staggered back to his feet, coughing into the elbow of his robes. But his discomfort was transitory, for the massive quake that could unhinge this ancient stone meant only one thing - his order's success. Unable to contain his exultant grin, he turned back to Garthag... in time to sight the faint glow emanating from one portion of the tunnel's wall. A minor enchantment cleared the dust and debris obscuring it, and within moments the message was clear.

Words glowing on the tunnel wall, enscribed in a language legible only to magic-users: Youngest of the brotherhood... this move is mine.

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Wyvern, at that particular moment, was frantically prodding his rider's mind to no avail. Eventually driven to desperation, his undisciplined consciousness spilled into Kendath and Adanil's, the two he could reach.

Merrin! What happened? I can't reach her! His tone spoke of barely disguised panic, a testament to his youth.

Merrin's shallow breaths quickened for a moment and her brow creased as though she were trying very hard to do something - but this was all that Wyvern's mental prods accomplished. In a moment her head once more rested limply on the dull, broken marble beneath it, copper hair falling in untidy waves and emphasizing the pale hue of her cheeks.

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Garthag sighed quietly.

"I doubt that the renegade would have ever wanted to ally themselves with him because he had nothing to give them, but otherwise are there any ways to turn back time? I do not know, but Kalma would have never even wanted to go after the crystals in the first place, if he could have turned back time....

Thus it is most unlikely... now must I scorch you to avoid more questions that I am not interested in?"

Garthag hissed and gazed at the lich.

"Any suggestions O´mighty corpse?"

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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 sighed and turned away. Men. So predictable, always on the defense, was it only women who manipulated people? It was so much simpler.

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Made by Lembas

O mighty corpse? The Lich's only response to that rather derogatory title was to wave an impatient hand at the message on the wall. "Written by Kalma?" he snapped, as though speaking to an inane child. "What do you make of it? If I judge your reaction correctly, it was paramount that he be here. Could he not have simply gone hunting?"

--------

Kendath's visceral reaction to a foreign presence breaching his mind was to slam his mental barriers around it. He hadn't exactly excelled in this class during his Meiltha training, so naturally Wyvern's voice trickled through anyway, albeit faintly.

Merrin is with me. He gathered his jumbled thoughts and attempted to convey the past events in a coherent storyline, which resulted in an overwhelming deluge of images. He wasn't quite certain if Wyvern had comprehended it all, but, deciding that he didn't care, went on to the next question anyway. Where are you? He hoped without much conviction that he could provide a better pinpoint than Gyre's vague direction.

Suddenly he felt a cool mist fall upon him and the stabbing in his ankle mitigate to a numbness. Having cast a light healing shower over the entire party, Master Aremicil urged petulantly, "We should go."

A cursory glance at Merrin told Kendath that although she was beginning to stir, she didn't look capable of running a race anytime soon. Thanking the stars for her slight build, he gathered her in his arms once again and fell into line behind the elves.

_________________

There was a pause, and then Wyvern's voice came through again, stronger this time. Northwest of the temple, in a valley. Half an hour's flying.

Half an hour's flying, of course, translated into quite a bit more walking. By the time the motley group, following an anxious Wyvern's directions, had covered a little more than half the distance, the sun had sunk behind the mountains and was radiating a faint glow into the sky. The faintest suggestion of snow hung in the air.

With the departure of the sun the air grew almost frigid. Limp in Kendath's arms, Merrin unconsciously pressed closer to him and as they descended a dip in the rough mountainous terrain her eyes flickered weakly open.

This return to consciousness was a rather gradual process, beginning with the sensation of movement. Merrin couldn't bring herself quite up to speed with current events, and left off trying after a few moments of disjointed images spinning through her head. Whose arms were those, though...?

This particular thought brought her fully into the conscious world and when she did open her eyes it was to see Kendath's face - distressingly near her own. Merrin would have flushed but for the fact that she was still very pale and no amount of discomfort would chainge it. As it was, she attempted to lift her head where it lay against his shoulder, but hastily abandoned that course of action when it sent the world spinning alarmingly.

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The silence in itself was deafening. No birds, no wolves, no wind whistling through the mountain passes. Even their boots crunching in the snow sounded eerily muffled. The sun here exuded no warmth, only a decadent crimson reminiscent of blood. This combined with the silence and intermittent globes of darkness engendered a surreal limbo, where time seemed an alien concept.

The elves seemed defatigable, but after scaling the fourth mountain spur, Kendath's ankle was throbbing again. Thoughts turned inward, he stumbled along by sheer willpower alone - being completely oblivous to his surroundings may have helped as well. Something about this plane, the lingering scent of death in the air, seemed intent upon oppressing his very soul. Perspiration beaded on his forehead, yet at the same time he suffered an intense, inimitable cold...

"One more mile," announced Commander Sunblade at the head of the group. He only appeared a little fazed - was it the elves' long lives?

He dimly registered relief before an impact on his shoulder jolted him halfway back to rationality. Realizing the numbness in his arms from lack of blood circulation, he shifted slightly and propped Merrin into a more comfortable position. Concern flitted over his features, but a split second later he remembered himself. Sentimental weakling. Disgusted at how easily he lost self control, he again erected his customary mask of dispassion. "You all right?" he asked tonelessly.

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Merrin didn't reply until the world stopped running in circles before her eyes. His very touch sent tingles racing through her and to be in her current vulnerable position was making her positively faint with confusion as to the dizzying myriad feelings within her that all vied for recognition. It didn't improve her already fragile state of consciousness.

When she did reply it took an attempt or two. "I...I think so." Her voice was trembling horribly. Merrin determinedly avoided his eyes. Another try at movement sent her head spinning again and Merrin let herself go limp while she fought to regain some vestige of consciousness. "Stars...I hurt all over..."

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"Almost there," was Kendath's only response, a sound that carried hollowly in the rank air. He breathed heavily from both physical and mental exertion. The interplane, Master Aremicil had said. A division of space and time between the material and nether worlds. He couldn't suppress a shudder at that - if this was only the interplane, the true netherplane seemed a place best left to the thrice-cursed Shadowers.

Cresting the next bluff nearly made him sink to the ground then and there. Gyre and Wyvern lay sprawled in a small dell, breathing sluggish and wings drooping as though half dead already. Children of the gods - children of life. The death permeating the very air seemed to sap at their souls.

At their arrival, Gyre nudged Wyvern and stumbled to her feet with a glad cry. She drew up short before Commander Eur'ielan Sunblade and bowed her head. If what my rider tells me is true, we are deeply in your debt. Thank you.

Sunblade humbly bowed his head. The bond between dragon and rider ran strong, and telepathy was a boon reserved for that bond only. For a dragon to grace his mind was an honor indeed.

The life returning to her limbs with every bound, she crashed down next to Kendath and fondly nuzzled him - an act that made said dragonrider uncomfortable at best and outright embarassed at worst. "Wyvern's been worried about you, Mistress Merrin," she told Merrin with a contrived chuckle.

_________________

This was illustrated by Wyvern half-flying, half tripping over himself across the little dell to skid to a halt beside Merrin. She spilled haphazardly from Kendath's grasp and was extensively examined, a procedure that nearly resulted in her blacking out again.

"Wyvern - Wyvern - stop!" she gasped out, clinging to him to steady herself. Even the possibility of standing unassisted seemed ridiculous to propose and Merrin slid into a position somewhat resembling a sitting one while his sinuous neck wound around her protectively. This had the benefit of hiding the fact that she flushed furiously upon realizing that Kendath must have been carrying her for quite some time.

Wyvern turned guiltily to the small assembly of Elves. "You have my gratitude as well," he rumbled bashfully, having completely ignored them in anxiety over his rider.

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(ahhh i hate waiting for Curi...cum'on man...)

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Made by Lembas

It was interesting how the novelty of being with Dragonriders had worn off so quickly. Even the company of elves, so discomforting and odd at first, was now reduced to almost the level of normality in Adanil's head. It probably had something to do with the long hours of hiking they had been doing.

Every once in a while, he spared a worried glance for Kendath--the Dragonrider seemed much less used to traversing this sort of terrain than he himself was. It probably came from riding Gyre all the time. However, Kendath seemed to be holding out alright, even carrying Merrin. And, Adanil noted with an odd mix of emotions, the Elves were also watching Kendath, as though ready to carry him along with Merrin if he continued to stumble.

They had shown no such concern earlier, why do so now? Especially considering that they were almost all wounded. Adanil was lucky to have gotten away unscathed--it came from attacking only one man, and that man having been caught by surprise.

When they reached the Dragons, his wearied mind did not cheer up at all. Gyre and Wyvern looked half-dead from exhaustion. They had been....here, for much longer than the humans, apparently. Would they last to get them out? Adanil hoped so, but he was certainly no judge of Dragon physiology.

_________________

"No... he was supposed to be here, chained and as a captive or so we had thought... yet besides even, if he had killed my bretheren already then there should be a mess in this cave. He wasn`t able to take us all by surprise and I doubt history could have changed that much..."

Garthag said as he gazed at the message writen onto the wall, it was somewhat unclear yet translatable to Garthag who hmphed slightly after reading it. He placed his hands in a prayer.

"Seems that Kalma has left to hunt indeed, but not in the normal sense... Apparently my bretheren had left him to rot here and transported their base of operations somewhere else. Transporting Kalma would have been too risky and troublesome, but now the bloody dragon is free and out to get my bretheren...

Let`s leave this place and send some servants to scour the plains for Kalma and my bretheren..."

Garthag suggested as he began walking towards the exit.

_________________

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!

"Dose that mean he could kill you're past self...ancestor..person?" She said in a half worried half hopeful voice.

_________________

Made by Lembas

The Lich followed Garthag to the tunnel mouth, which opened up onto a ledge overlooking a small, secluded valley. Even he had to admit that he was impressed by the mage and his brethren's tenacity. A citadel of ice and stone towered against the mountainside, deserted for now save for a few wizard apprentices overseeing the servants' work in transporting furniture and scrolls from the citadel's front gate. A long caravan was already rolling out the valley's west pass.

"Follow them," the Lich suggested with a shrug. He glanced obliquely at his more or less loyal companion. "And where would you happen to be at this auspicious moment in time? I question the effects of an encounter with your past and present selves, but I wouldn't chance it."

----------

In reality much more jaded than he allowed himself to appear, Kendath collapsed to his knees as soon as Merrin slid away. His ankle was throbbing painfully again, and the fact that Gyre was sending waves of anguish through their mental link didn't help either.

I'm sorry. I don't know how long I can... She curled in a fetal position and lay shivering, afflicted by a plague only she could feel.

Kendath nodded wordlessly and shot an inspection at Merrin, who seemed to be in protective hands. The elven rangers were either resting or patrolling the perimeter. The mages had formed an eldritch circle in preparation for what he assumed was opening a portal back to their own plane. His gaze shifted over to Adanil, a mere farmer who was not as simpleton as he'd initially judged. At least Adanil seemed to have more stamina than himself - in mountain climbing anyway.

Despite her weariness, Gyre still found the strength to stretch over and nudge him. She seemed to have taken a sympathetic fondness to the young man who'd lost his village. "You've endured much the past few days," she murmured gently.

_________________

Adanil would have smiled at the Dragon's consideration, but her statement brought back into clarity the blurred memories of the destruction of his village several nights earlier. He winced. It had been almost nice, not remembering it. It would have been nice, if it hadn't been for the following events. He had been so scared--and angry--most of the time, that he had forgotten what he would rather not remember.

"It has helped, though," he said, his voice heavy with weariness and the strains of sorrow that were intertwined in it. "I would not have been able to handle it, if I thought too much about it then. Now--" he paused for a moment. "Now, it will take time, but perhaps the grief will fade away. I can, at the least, avenge them. Maybe I will even become a Dragonrider, to be the most capable of dogging the Shadowers' flight."

He snorted quietly. There was small chance of him, a simple former farmer, ever becoming a Dragonrider. He didn't even know how a person went about the process. Still, he could try for it--the effort could only make him more capable.

"Will you be all right?" he asked, concern in his voice as he looked from Kendath to Gyre. Neither of the two looked like they could go very far.

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