Evlyn's gaze was magnetic, but Kendath forced himself to pull away. His fingers brushed hers through the bars as he took the ring and dropped it into his pocket. "You were my friend among the friendless," he told her truthfully. His face hardened. "But no. I never loved you."

He backed up and shot Valten a withering glare for no apparent reason. A glance down either side of the dimly lit corridor told him no one else had heard. Not that he expected it. Any soldiers that could be spared were on the battlements.

"Semri wasn't with Garthag," he answered her other question, then promised, "I'll be back." He placed a hand on his falchion and strode off the other direction. A remembered a single soldier guarding the dungeon entrance. That soldier had better have the keys.

-----

All keen interest, the High General took a sip of his wine and leaned forward. Perhaps Merrin didn't realize it, but from that exchange alone he'd gleaned more than she would ever have told him. Images flooded his mind - a magnificent silver dragon, a darkly cloaked man, divine fire, black-hooded apparitions, a humble town called Riversmeet...

Satisfied for now, he carefully extracted his probing tendrils. Ironlegs wasn't feared as a puissant magic-user for nothing.

"On the contrary, Merrin, I find you rather fascinating," he mused aloud, setting down his wine glass. "Such youth the gods have chosen for their vassal. They burn in your spirit, do they not? From where does your power stem, Mistress Dragonrider? Do you believe that, if the gods willed it, you could take this army on single-handedly?"

_________________

Evlyn nodded, she'd known that, but she'd wanted to be sure. Her face split into a real smile as she rembered what he'd said.

"Semri wasn't with Garthag" Semri was a familly name, she wouldn't put it past her twin to have started it. She noticed Valten and shot him a withering glance. "What are you looking at?" she asked harshly, secretly warmed by the fact that Kendath had liked her even, if only as a freind.

_________________

Made by Lembas

Merrin regarded him with a mien of decided uncertainty, her frown a troubled one. She shifted where she sat, swallowing, wanting to look away, to shy from the presence across from her - too close! - but found her eyes again drawn reluctantly to his. An effort and she tore them away, looking down at her hands in her lap, again biting her lip fiercely.

"I...I can do whatever they will," she said falteringly after a moment, but she remembered the world fading to black after her world exploded with power in the form of blazing white lightning. The truth was, Merrin knew very little about the divine power that seemed to manifest itself in her.

She wished he'd stop calling her Mistress Dragonrider. It made her stomach clench in memory of events she'd rather forget. Stronger this time, she repeated it with a nod. "Aye, if they willed it, I could."

In sudden alarm she wondered if she should even be telling him this. How could it hurt her - but then, anything that did not help her could very well be hurting her. Unless it helped her get out...Merrin found she couldn't juggle that train of thought with the million others that fought for recognition. Why did he not torture her where she sat - ? "Why do you not send for your mages now?" she burst out, searching his face in dismay and finding nothing. Stars, if you intend to torture me - do it!

_________________

A figure leaned over him, the man smiled, widely at Garthag. Apparently this Meiltha mage had been tasked with guarding him, Garthag stared back at him with cold eyes.

"So you are the mage that has caused all of the fuzz, we have heard of your exploits and powers Garthag, but in here they are useless as you can certainly sense the wards created to null your magic. Now I am goi... wha!"

The mage suddenly gasped in shock as the thin, bony hands had grabbed around his throat and like driven by a demon choked him. Garthag`s and the mages eyes met once more, Garthag`s eyes only promised death and suffering for the Meiltha fools who thought they could keep him here. Garthag forced the struggling mage to his knee`s as he himself almost stood up himself, but never let go and pressed his long fingernails into the mages flesh.

"I do not need magic to kill you Meiltha dog!"

He screeched with an exhausted, fever filled tone driven by pure rage and the lust for vengeance. Finally the light and the horror that had burned dimly in the Meiltha`s eyes were gone, Garthag stood there quietly still choking the dead mage before pushing him aside with his fingers covered in blood. Garthag grabbed his equipment that were laid out on a table and destroyed the wards before drawing once more power to concentrate from the burning fire of vengeance that had grown to rage within him.

In a short moment Garthag disappeared out of sight and headed out of the tent, he gazed around with a satisfied smile as the Meiltha were too busy handling Vryngard so there were not that many guards around nor mages. Garthag pressed onwards and listened to the events around him before arriving at a certain tent where he saw, partly sensed a somewhat odd, frightening figure. Garthag then recognized another voice that was coming out of the tent and sat besides the tent to listen, no one would at least see him and luckily there was some stuff always laying around that would provide cover. He could only wonder what this thing wanted from Merrin and listened carefully.

_________________

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!

Kendath decided that killing the single guard would take him a few steps backward in this entire switching sides endeavor, so he simply knocked the man out with the pommel of his dagger. Not too difficult, and as his victim dropped cold, he recognized the guard's youth. To toss this incompetent youth at the dungeon doors... The battle outside must be more desperate than he thought. He could incite a full-scale debacle by simply releasing all the prisoners.

An amusing thought, but another backwards one.

He was waxing reckless again, a sign that both his partially healed wound and his sleep deprivation had caught up at least. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Focus. He borrowed the unconscious guard's keys and retraced his steps to Evlyn's cell. In went the key through the hole, and the cell door grated open with a scream of metal.

As soon as Evlyn stepped outside, Kendath unsheathed his falchion in one fluid motion and placed it at her neck. "I have business in the Meiltha camp. Leave me alone to finish it. No betrayals tonight. We go our separate ways in the morning." Unless you have second thoughts about your alliance, he silently added. Despite his harsh words, he couldn't deny the foolish hope that Evlyn might rethink his previous offer.

-----

"Mages?" Mildly bemused, the High General stared at her for the briefest of seconds. Then his bark of laughter resounded through the tent. "No mages. You think we would sink so low as to insult your gods-blessed flesh with fireballs and scalding torture? Not that our mages can't be more creative than that, but my point stands. Oh no, Merrin. Tonight you are my guest of honor." He stood and offered her a bow, gracious by all appearances but with the subtle nuance of a taunt.

He fixed her with his unnerving golden stare a bit longer. Perhaps a little more mind probing to find her weaknesses... Best not. He'd had enough fun tonight. The battle awaited him. Entertaining and delectably informative as this diversion had been, duty and bloodlust ran even stronger.

He stopped a servant scurrying by and instructed, "Lend my honored guest a tent of her own. Attend her needs. Inform Lord Telnorrak that he is to erect his strongest wards around the tent. She is not to leave." He remembered something else, something he'd garnered from his mind probes. "Ah yes. Two more instructions. Firstly, inform our sentries to watch for a certain traitor in our midst. Dark cloak. Falchion. His name is Kendath. He is to be shown no mercy. Secondly, inform Warlord Gahst to search the eastern bluffs, where he may find an artifact of considerable power. That artifact is to be brought directly to me."

No doubt Merrin had overhead a considerable bit of that, but that perturbed Ironlegs not at all. Fear was a valuable asset he found in his enemies. Satisfied with this night's work, he departed the command tent.

_________________

Before he was quite out of sight Merrin was on her feet and flying to the door, shock on her face. Kendath! Oh gods, how had he known? How could he have known? That even now she hoped, pleaded mutely that the next dark-cloaked figure she saw would be one she knew. She fell back, a shaking hand over her mouth. How much - else - did he know? The Crystal, fallen where she'd flung it, burned an image into her mind. Did he know...could he know what she felt for Kendath?

With a cry she made to run after him, to be stopped by something decidedly large and solid. In her panic Merrin beat at it with her fists - she had to know how he knew! Kendath could not come for her, it would be his death - until hands closed over her wrists and Merrin was shaking in Je'id's grasp, almost incoherent with panic.

"Let go of me, you traitor! You - you lying backstabber!" she twisted violently and almost sobbed at the lance of dizzying pain that shot through her arm and shoulder. "I won't go with you, I won't!" But she sagged, spent, though still glaring daggers, and managed to wrench her wrists from his grasp with little more than a gasp of pain.

"You, inform Lord Telnorrak his skills are required. Center of camp, by Commander Anglevar's tent. Go!" the runner bolted off and Je'id started in the direction of where Merrin was presumably to be quartered, dragging her after him by a firm grip on her upper arm whether she wanted to or not.

"Your wrist's broken." He was met with furious silence, and no doubt had he looked down he would have found that looks could perhaps kill. "I'll send for a healer, you - "

"No! I won't be healed by those - "

Having had quite enough Je'id spun her around, seizing both arms and proving that he could glare quite as effectively as she could. "You will do whatever Lord Ironlegs orders, and last I checked 'attend her needs' meant mending a broken wrist whether you like it or not."

"Because you do whatever he says, don't you! 'Right down to the pretty face' - you dare!" Merrin was practically quivering with rage, eyes aflame - though luckily for Je'id, not with white fire.

There came no reply, only an increasingly rough grip on her arm and shoulder until Merrin was almost flung into the waiting tent to seethe in relative solitude.

_________________

That relative solitude didn`t las t too long as the invisible Garthag sneaked into the tent, unseen by any guards and positioned himself near Merrin, but didn`t say a word in a while before he was sure that they could at least whisper.

"Merrin, not a word."

Garthag hissed and partly whispered.

"I see you have received somewhat `friendly` treatment from that demon spawn.. I can`t save you from here (nor would I normally want to), not like this yet they mentioned an artifact of great power. I know this sounds low to you, but you are going to have to go along with this charade for a while. Time is what these maggots are offering to you so you use that time and drag it as long as you can. Your knight in shining armor, Kendath is no doubt going to spearhead his way into the camp and try to save you yet meanwhile it would seem only appropriate that I do nothing for you.

I`ll be around chosen...."

Garthag added with a slight chuckle as she was being constantly referred to as that, indisputably an uncomfortable feeling when every bloodthirsty Meiltha was willing to gut her. Yet the rest of the Meiltha`s words had not escaped him, especially those that he had heard Iron legs say to a servant. A powerful artifact? How had the general come to possess this vague knowledge? Yet if it were true then Garthag couldn`t allow such a fruitful opportunity to slip past his fingers, he could only wonder what his ally thought of all this.

_________________

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!

Evlyn turned her head so that the falchion bit into her neck, drawing a thin line of blood. "The've got Merrin haven't they." she didn't need to be told "Give me a sword and let me fight at your side, I told you that your enimies our my enimies, I will kill whoever you kill. I am not Meiltha, I am not Renagade, I am dead." she smiled at him oddly. "If nothing else trust me for the love I bore you."

_________________

Made by Lembas

Merrin was too drained, both physically and mentally, to be unduly surprised by Garthag's voice emanating seemingly from thin air. She listened dully, aching head in her hands, until the knowledge filtered through that he'd mentioned Kendath.

She started upright. "Stars, no, he can't! They've orders to kill him on sight, Garthag, please - is there any way you can tell him not to come?" She had nothing to give him, nothing to offer in return for such a favor, but even in Garthag perhaps there was some compassion? My knight in shining armor? Merrin shuddered involuntarily despite the heat. Could it even be possible Kendath would risk coming back for her? And if he did...would he be coming for Merrin Dragonrider or for the Chosen of the Gods? For who she was, or what she was?

"He can't come," she sid aloud to the seemingly empty tent. "He can't!"

_________________

"Be quiet!"

Garthag hissed at her, but at the same time he was clearly smiling as Merrin seemed so desperate for help and to stop Kendath from coming as it would certainly be his undoing. Garthag smiled and moved closer to Merrin almost reaching out to shut her up, but held his hand and hmhed at her.

"My, my Merrin that sounded like a plead for help? A desperate request to be asked of a selfish man such as I? You know, if you are so certain then I can stop Kendath from coming, but that would mean that I would abandon you to whatever fate that awaits you. I am quite sure what the Meiltha are planning for you isn`t pleasant, but would you be willing to accept such a fate that the gods have thrown on you in order to stop your dear Kendath from coming?"

Garthag inquired, but never allowed her to answer as he grabbed her by the shoulder and viciously slapped her across the face with his other hand. He was disgusted by the pathetic attitude she was displaying, pleading for his help? Had she not been able to walk on her own two feet thus far? Did she think that just because she had no dragon that she was powerless? Such petty excuses of a coward.

"Pull yourself together Merrin, you might have lost a few things on the way to this point, but you know darn well what Kendath would say. You both would be so eager to die for each other, well evidently I cannot let that happen. I can only promise that I can try to keep him safe, if that is your wish, but I cannot save you from here...

I am too weak in my current state and this spell doesn`t improve my current standing. The camp is still highly guarded and the wards surrounding the camp would be our undoing should we try to escape, not to mention the general. We play time and let Kendath come, he seems to be rather resourceful and might even bring a dragon as a mean of escaping."

Garthag lectured her knowing that he wasn`t lying to her and that he was telling the truth about Kendath, due to their bond they were so predictable at sometimes. Garthag sighed and slumped to sit in the corner of the tent.

"If I only had..."

He muttered with clear frustration and desperation in his voice.

Garthag

_________________

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!

Merrin couldn't say she'd ever been slapped across the face by a seemingly invisible mage, nor that she knew quite how to react beyond indignation. "I didn't ask you to help me escape!" she said shrilly. "Is it a crime to ask for help, then? I'm worried about him!"

She broke off, fighting angry tears. They seemed to be ever-threatening - understandable, considering the day's less than auspicious events.

Canvas rasping against itself indicated the tent flap lifting, and Je'id, looking as though he'd really rather be somewhere else, entered and made quite sure to close it behind him. To all appearances Merrin was alone, and she made no move to indicate otherwise.

There was a pregnant pause, both of them regarding the other warily - Merrin with something approaching disgust, and Je'id with an air of disgruntled resignation. Finally he moved toward her. "Give me your wrist."

Merrin watched him sit down warily. "I thought you were - "

"The healers are all busy. Thorone appears to not have resigned himself to defeat just yet. Gods, Merrin, do you want it splinted or not?"

"Don't you swear by the gods!" snapped Merrin, but she thrust said appendage at him and tried not to wince when it twinged painfully.

_________________

Kendath returned her smile with an equally odd look that spoke quite blatantly of having nothing coherent to reply with. Why was it always him? Evlyn's sudden change scared him more than a little. Guilt was the last sentiment he needed at the moment.

"Right," he muttered, sheathing his falchion. They stopped by the dungeon armory. He still didn't fully trust Evlyn, but having her fistfight at his side didn't sound overly helpful either. After she reemerged with her weapons, he again set a brisk pace up the dungeon steps.

Curse it, what now? Escape Vryngard and present himself nicely to the Meiltha officers... Perhaps he'd even don the winning tunic Thorone had lent him at the ball. After all, buttons were irresistible. Inwardly he punched himself. Sneak into camp... the High Meiltha ring may be of some use, though he doubted it'd be enough to...

Then he remembered something he'd seen in the map room, on Thorone's table. The small-scale foray, an infiltration... Mind set, he began making rapid progress towards Vryngard's back door.

-----

"And you are...?"

"Kendath. This is my friend Evlyn. We wish to join your company." Evlyn's cloak hid the Meiltha insignia on her armor, though the Renegade riders still duly harbored suspicion.

The lead dragonrider in particular - Subcommander Helsay - was being abnormally nice. He'd even allowed Kendath to get back up after his dragon blasted the assassin off his feet in the initial greeting. Apparently the Meiltha-fashioned falchion still hanging from Kendath's belt was more conspicuous than he thought. It took some amiable persuasion - something about Kendath nearly chopping the Renegade dragon's talon off - to return to negotiating terms. The arrival of Valten and Archaon considerably eased the rising conflagration.

The new arrivals had caught up with this elite company twenty minutes into taking a roundabout route out of the mountains. Their plan had been to make this a clandestine operation through the foothills, winding their way on foot behind the Meiltha main force. Their dragons would take to the air near the command tents, raining fire on the Meiltha officers, incinerating a few trebuchets, and freeing the prisoners if possible.

Subcommander Helsay's patience had been wearing dangerously thin. It was only after Kendath extracted Evlyn's High Meiltha ring that the Subcommander finally agreed. In fact, the sight of the ring convinced him that being polite would, perhaps, stand him in good stead.

Two hours of winding through the foothills took them to a set of bluffs just overlooking the command tents. One of the dragons slithered forward to get a better view. "We've come this far unnoticed," she rumbled upon her return. "We cannot hope to turn the tide of the battles, but we can try."

"I will lead a contingent of foot soldiers down the bluff to secure the location of the prisoners," Subcommander Helsay instructed. "You, man, with the ring. Kendath. You were Meiltha once, weren't you? Come with me. The rest of you stay behind with my dragon. She'll signal the attack."

Kendath beckoned to Evlyn and followed Helsay down the bluff.

-----

Despite his disgruntled air, Je'id's lip twitched into a ghost of a taunting smile. "Or what? Will you burn me with pretty fire? Will I evaporate into thin air?" He happened to glance up at that moment. One look at Merrin's face told him in no uncertain terms to shut up. For his own good. Shaking his head in mock sympathy, he extracted a roll of rigid bandages he'd brought from the infirmary tent. "And to think. You used to be the peasant girl - isn't that what they called you? Little peasant girl. Divine minds work in strange ways, wouldn't you say?"

_________________

Merrin flinched in spite of herself. That moniker had not been applied to her in quite some time but it still rankled. She stiffened as he turned her wrist to splint it, disliking in equal volumes the extent of her vulnerability in this particular situation and the flashes of pain that made her arm cramp and did not improve the condition of her violently aching head. "Don't exempt yourself," she said pointedly. "You can't pretend you were friendly either."

He'd pretended she didn't exist, was what he had done. Though that was a far cry from what he was now. Merrin found herself stiff, unwilling to be near him for a moment longer than she had to. She made herself relax fractionally. Unfortunately it was at that moment that a particularly painful twinge made her tense again and involuntarily Merrin gasped sharply and jerked backwards. She flushed and let him continue, biting her lip hard.

_________________

Arrogance seemed to be a common trait among large armies.

So secure were the Meiltha in their numbers that vigilant sentries didn't exist. Messengers and soldiers were running in all conceivable directions. They were a safe distance from the battle heat, but the occassional fireball or mages' spell still invoked flinches especially in the younger pages, who probably knew less about battle than their grandmothers did. Those fireballs lit the command tents in eerie flashes of vermilion light.

Kendath had suffered enough nobles - too many for his tastes - to know their general demeanor. Thanks to a compilation of remembered insults and humiliation, he still wasn't very good at it. What could he say? His officers loved him. Must be his lack of charm. If not the nobility part, he displayed the cocky, seasoned killer mien relatively well. The Subcommander was also convincingly performing his role of apoplectic prisoner.

Too convincingly, perhaps. The kick in the crotch still throbbed. But then again, the punch in the nose must have hurt as well. Kendath's sore knuckles would complain for another hour.

In any case, it'd struck him odd at first how the officers he used to curse under his breath seemed to be avoiding him. A glance downwards at his hand could explain a few things. The High Meiltha ruby flashed most conspicuously. If this once in a lifetime bout of luck sustained, he might even be nicer to Valten next time they -

"Hold! State your name."

Kendath shoved Helsay to his knees before the prisoner camp. Fire flashed again, and he caught a glimpse of metal cages. Could Merrin be in one of them? "My name is none of your business," he snarled, then added for good measure, "lowly scum."

The sentry actually looked daunted; Meiltha lords and congeniality did not belong in the same sentence. Then Kendath's cloak shifted, and the sentry caught sight of the jeweled falchion.

Events rapidly spiraled downhill from there.

"You! Traitor!" the man sneered, recognition twisting his features. Out came a short gladius, accompanied by a savage lunge for Kendath's midsection.

The abyss! Kendath's new Renegade falchion whipped out, blocking the gladius in mid-thrust. The emerald on its pommel caught the light as he twisted it under and over, bringing it behind his enemy's blade and following through with a quick slash. At the same time, a dagger launched from his other hand. Point-blank range. It cleanly severed, almost knocking the sentry's head off his neck entirely.

Pity. And Kendath had been sadistically anticipating the head rolling across the ground. His less agreeable moods tended to instigate such thoughts.

Subcommander Helsay was on his feet as well, broadsword warning back the first wave of Meiltha attackers. Though neither of them could have known it, the Ironlegs's messenger had done his job well. The surrounding camp was in uproar. Most of them were shouting insults. All of them wanted to personally bring Kendath's head to the High General.

"I don't know about you," the assassin muttered, putting his back up to Helsay's, "but a tiny voice in my head says you should call your dragon now."

_________________

Je'id started upright, weapon already reflexively halfway out of its sheath, and Merrin likewise sprang to her feet with a cry of dismay. The general commotion of the battle was in the opposite direction of this new uproar, and a sickening sensation in her stomach told her this strike was likely because of her.

She turned to Je'id pleadingly, reduced to this last scrap of hope. "Please - you can let me out, get through the wards - gods, please, Je'id!" Almost unconsciously she grasped at him and he shook her off with little more effort than he might have to brush away an annoying insect. Another moment and he was gone.

Merrin could feel the magical boundaries pulsing around her. Too sick with worry to reason she flung herself at the tent flap and the next instant was sprawled full length on the ground.

Swallowing utter panic Merrin scrambled upright and swiveled, trying futilely to see a way out. Gods, help me!

_________________

"I don't know about you," Subcommander Helsay shot back. "But it seems my dragon's a bit busy at the moment." His broadsword parried with a ring of steel.

"Do I even want to know?" Kendath demanded, ducking under a swinging cleaver wielded by an absolute giant of a Meiltha. His falchion snapped low to hamstring another opponent. Scenting the opening, Giant Meiltha grinned and moved in.

Kendath pivoted at the last millisecond, and Giant Meiltha found himself tasting a broadsword in its gut. Not a nice experience. Helsay wrenched his weapon back out, using the momentum to spin himself around to for another powerful slash. "Meiltha dragons! She says" - and here he sidestepped, letting his opponent charge right into a waiting falchion - "our companions were discovered. They're in grave danger."

"Would you like some tea, Subcommander?" Kendath shouted back. "Because I haven't enjoyed myself like this" - thrust went a dagger, narrowly before he had his arm chopped off - "since that time I almost got decapitated five minutes ago!"

"Would you like me to change that, traitor?"

The voice carried over the din. The Meiltha fell back. Panting heavily, both Renegades straightened and warily shifted into defensive stance. Kendath shook the sweat off his brow and looked for the voice's source. His determinedly clenched jaw went slack.

Oh. Gods.

The behemoth easily towered seven feet tall. His muscular torso gleamed bronze in the firelight. Two vestigial wings, languidly fanning away the heat, sprouted from his back. And his legs... Silver scales with a definite metallic sheen ran along his lashing tail, down his powerful hindquarters, to where his ankles ended in talons.

High General Ironlegs flashed a reptilian grin. His pointed fangs glinted. "Back for your damsel in distress? Love can be so painfully predictable, wouldn't you say?"

"Where is she?" Kendath said evenly, seconds before his eyes widened yet again.

He'd never seen a larger battle axe in his life. Crafted entirely from adamantine, runes etched along its blade, it swung easily from Ironlegs's hands. The High General's grin only broadened. His every step seemed to shake the earth like thunder as he deliberately advanced. "If I were in an agreeable mood, I might see fit to spare you. As it is, your maiden fair's been troublesome enough for one night. Time to die, traitor."

Without even registering the movement, Kendath found himself giving ground before that terrible slitted stare. He moistened his lips. "Think she's still busy now, Subcommander?"

Helsay was retreating as well, though he did manage to raise his broadsword in some last vestige of defiance. "If she is... It's been nice knowing you, Kendath."

And then, not a moment too late, like divine salvation itself, dragonfire rained from the heavens.

Renegade dragons swooped down, relentlessly spraying flame on the Meiltha hordes. Both assassin and Subcommander dove for cover just as a torrent of fire swept through, blasting Ironlegs off his feet. Even in the mass chaos, the attack was carefully concentrated. Meiltha were sent running, tents were incinerated, but none of the flames landed near the prisoner camp.

"Quickly! The prisoners!" Helsay seized Kendath by the arm and gestured urgently for him to follow.

_________________