Bitterness Overcome: (Now A Completed Story!)

[Nonlethal Force]

Across the camp, Charis was busy collecting food donations gathered from the heads of the village households. The food collection was slow in coming at first, but as the night progressed the pace picked up. Most of the villagers greeted Charis with a warm greeting. Often she was welcomed with hugs and exclamations at being able to see her again. It turned out that most in the village assumed she had been captured for use in some sort of slave trade, perhaps even demonic in origin. While the truth had been intentionally hidden from them by their dragon father, they were nonetheless happy to know she was safe. Most were even more grateful for the sacrifices that she had made in coming back to help them escape the torment that the lives of the villagers had known under the dragon father’s wrath.

While Charis played the face of the party with respect for the villagers, Ischarus and Xando went through the surrounding woods with some of Xando’s axes. They weren’t looking to cut down any trees, but they were certainly interested in taking the limbs off of any that happened to fall on their own. Ischarus knew that the most efficient manner for getting the vast quantity of food to the underground tunnels would be to have sleds that the horses could drag behind them. These sleds would be useful in the tunnels as well for carting the food from the storage place to whatever cavern in which they decided to wait out the dragon’s wrath. He looked for tree trunks that had substantial enough diameter to support the weight of the collected food but small enough diameter to be easily bound together without increasing the weight of the sled substantially. Fortunately for Ischarus there was plenty of soft pine in the area. The pine was not only lighter in weight but also easier to trim and drag to where he needed them.

At the end of the first night of collection they had enough food to require two trips for the full compliment of four horses – each with a sled in tow. Most of the staples donated were flour and grain products. The villagers knew that the next few days would require more gathering and grinding of wheat products as well as nuts and even some berries. They also expected a few men to go on a hunting expedition simply so that the village had meat for the first few days. Any more meat than they could consume in a few days without salting would be too rancid to eat. They would only be able to cook and smoke so much without drawing suspicion from their dragon father above.

When it was clear that the last villager had come for the night, Xando spoke a few words of direction. “Ischarus,” Xando advised, “I think the villagers are done for the night. Why don’t you and Charis take the first load to the caves? I’ll keep watch here and make sure nothing happens to the store. Then you can return and I’ll head to the caves with you and help with the horses.”

Charis helped Ischarus finish tying together the last of the sleds and rose to her feet. All of their shirts were soaked in sweat and Charis felt a quick chill of the night air as a breeze blew past her bare arms. She rubbed her arms vigorously and walked over to where she had placed her traveling cloak. She drew it up over he shoulders and nodded to Ischarus. “Xando’s right, Ischarus. I’ve no doubt daylight is only a few hours off by now. We’ll need to get this food moved before daylight or it’ll be easily spotted from the father dragon’s perch up high.”

Ischarus also stood, stretching out his aching back. “Yeah. I suppose we should. Time for us to start walking and these horses to do some work!” He took a few steps so as to be under Elistra’s neck and he reached up to give her a loving pat on the neck. After ruffling her ears he walked over and grabbed the first sack of ground flour. “Sacks of flour on the bottom. They’ll crush everything else.”

Charis and Xando quickly followed Ischarus’ lead and before too long half the goods were loaded onto the sleds. Charis and Ischarus led the horses away from Xando, who looked as though he might spend a bit of time napping while he guarded the reserve pile. Neither Charis nor Ischarus thought anything of it, however. Xando would surely wake if anyone approached and the next day would prove to be grueling without some sleep.

Ischarus and Charis easily unloaded the sled once they arrived at the mountain tunnels and found an appropriate cavern that looked large enough to hold the supply yet was far enough into the tunnel to keep from being an easy target for the dragon father. Most importantly, the side cavern only had one entrance. Before too long Ischarus returned to the food store back near the village and he smiled as he was forced to wake Xando. The pair of men worked hard loading up the last of the food supplies.

When they were done, Ischarus directed Xando to catch the last hour or less of sleep before the sun would rise. “I can manage the horses; and you’ll need your sleep, Xando.” The village elder offered up no objection to the suggestion in spite of his earlier offer to help with the horses since Charis was guarding the supplies of food on the other end.

Ischarus arrived back at the mountain tunnel just before the sun rose above the mountain tops to the east. This trip of the horses took much more time since he had to guide all four along the trail by himself. Eventually Charis heard Ischarus at the entrance to the underground tunnels and she left the storage area to help Ischarus with the rest of the journey. The unloading process took less time with the both of them working together. The coolness of the cave helped each of them fight off the wave of fatigue that was now taking its toll.

Once everything was unloaded from the sleds Ischarus offered up a plan of action. “Why don’t you stay here in the caves and take the first watch of the food store? You can free the horses from their sleds while I make my way to the place where Semeion and Rhema are so I can make sure their night went well. I’ll return quickly and give you time to sleep. We’ll trade off shifts until nightfall – saving our strength for tomorrow. At least we won’t need to rebuild the sleds.”

Charis nodded in approval. “True. And if Xando is available to help again tomorrow night, one of us can run the horses in shifts moving food throughout the night rather than save it for all the horse to move together.”

Ischarus silently agreed with a nod to the affirmative. He headed for the exit where the cavern joined with the regular tunnel. “Stay safe until I return.” Charis smiled at his concern and watched him leave the tunnel.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Across the camp, Charis was busy collecting food donations gathered from the heads of the village households. The food collection was slow in coming at first, but as the night progressed the pace picked up. Most of the villagers greeted Charis with a warm greeting. Often she was welcomed with hugs and exclamations at being able to see her again. It turned out that most in the village assumed she had been captured for use in some sort of slave trade, perhaps even demonic in origin. While the truth had been intentionally hidden from them by their dragon father, they were nonetheless happy to know she was safe. Most were even more grateful for the sacrifices that she had made in coming back to help them escape the torment that the lives of the villagers had known under the dragon father’s wrath.

While Charis played the face of the party with respect for the villagers, Ischarus and Xando went through the surrounding woods with some of Xando’s axes. They weren’t looking to cut down any trees, but they were certainly interested in taking the limbs off of any that happened to fall on their own. Ischarus knew that the most efficient manner for getting the vast quantity of food to the underground tunnels would be to have sleds that the horses could drag behind them. These sleds would be useful in the tunnels as well for carting the food from the storage place to whatever cavern in which they decided to wait out the dragon’s wrath. He looked for tree trunks that had substantial enough diameter to support the weight of the collected food but small enough diameter to be easily bound together without increasing the weight of the sled substantially. Fortunately for Ischarus there was plenty of soft pine in the area. The pine was not only lighter in weight but also easier to trim and drag to where he needed them.

At the end of the first night of collection they had enough food to require two trips for the full compliment of four horses – each with a sled in tow. Most of the staples donated were flour and grain products. The villagers knew that the next few days would require more gathering and grinding of wheat products as well as nuts and even some berries. They also expected a few men to go on a hunting expedition simply so that the village had meat for the first few days. Any more meat than they could consume in a few days without salting would be too rancid to eat. They would only be able to cook and smoke so much without drawing suspicion from their dragon father above.

When it was clear that the last villager had come for the night, Xando spoke a few words of direction. “Ischarus,” Xando advised, “I think the villagers are done for the night. Why don’t you and Charis take the first load to the caves? I’ll keep watch here and make sure nothing happens to the store. Then you can return and I’ll head to the caves with you and help with the horses.”

Charis helped Ischarus finish tying together the last of the sleds and rose to her feet. All of their shirts were soaked in sweat and Charis felt a quick chill of the night air as a breeze blew past her bare arms. She rubbed her arms vigorously and walked over to where she had placed her traveling cloak. She drew it up over he shoulders and nodded to Ischarus. “Xando’s right, Ischarus. I’ve no doubt daylight is only a few hours off by now. We’ll need to get this food moved before daylight or it’ll be easily spotted from the father dragon’s perch up high.”

Ischarus also stood, stretching out his aching back. “Yeah. I suppose we should. Time for us to start walking and these horses to do some work!” He took a few steps so as to be under Elistra’s neck and he reached up to give her a loving pat on the neck. After ruffling her ears he walked over and grabbed the first sack of ground flour. “Sacks of flour on the bottom. They’ll crush everything else.”

Charis and Xando quickly followed Ischarus’ lead and before too long half the goods were loaded onto the sleds. Charis and Ischarus led the horses away from Xando, who looked as though he might spend a bit of time napping while he guarded the reserve pile. Neither Charis nor Ischarus thought anything of it, however. Xando would surely wake if anyone approached and the next day would prove to be grueling without some sleep.

Ischarus and Charis easily unloaded the sled once they arrived at the mountain tunnels and found an appropriate cavern that looked large enough to hold the supply yet was far enough into the tunnel to keep from being an easy target for the dragon father. Most importantly, the side cavern only had one entrance. Before too long Ischarus returned to the food store back near the village and he smiled as he was forced to wake Xando. The pair of men worked hard loading up the last of the food supplies.

When they were done, Ischarus directed Xando to catch the last hour or less of sleep before the sun would rise. “I can manage the horses; and you’ll need your sleep, Xando.” The village elder offered up no objection to the suggestion in spite of his earlier offer to help with the horses since Charis was guarding the supplies of food on the other end.

Ischarus arrived back at the mountain tunnel just before the sun rose above the mountain tops to the east. This trip of the horses took much more time since he had to guide all four along the trail by himself. Eventually Charis heard Ischarus at the entrance to the underground tunnels and she left the storage area to help Ischarus with the rest of the journey. The unloading process took less time with the both of them working together. The coolness of the cave helped each of them fight off the wave of fatigue that was now taking its toll.

Once everything was unloaded from the sleds Ischarus offered up a plan of action. “Why don’t you stay here in the caves and take the first watch of the food store? You can free the horses from their sleds while I make my way to the place where Semeion and Rhema are so I can make sure their night went well. I’ll return quickly and give you time to sleep. We’ll trade off shifts until nightfall – saving our strength for tomorrow. At least we won’t need to rebuild the sleds.”

Charis nodded in approval. “True. And if Xando is available to help again tomorrow night, one of us can run the horses in shifts moving food throughout the night rather than save it for all the horse to move together.”

Ischarus silently agreed with a nod to the affirmative. He headed for the exit where the cavern joined with the regular tunnel. “Stay safe until I return.” Charis smiled at his concern and watched him leave the tunnel.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

Ischarus slowly picked his way through the forest knowing full well that the sun would be up at any moment. They were already hiding in the shadow of the dragon, so there didn’t seem to be any need to tempt fate and move too quickly. It would be easy enough to alert the red wyrm of their presence. Moving too quickly would simply add to the ease of making a mistake. It would be nearly impossible to arrive before sunrise anyway; the packing of the food had taken longer than anticipated. Of course, that was a good thing. The store of food was greater than anticipated as well.

After Ischarus had walked for over a half an hour, the sun crept over the mountain tops and Ischarus could now hear the rhythmic chanting of the villagers. This would be their Morning Prayer vigil offered up to their dragon father. Ischarus assumed that it was unlikely that Grixanthrosilithiss would make an appearance. The dragon had been present in the evening to take stock of his people. There would be little need to make sure they had made it safely through the night.

As soon as the prayer vigil had come to Ischarus’ ears he knew that he had been wrong about his assumptions of the dragon father’s position. He heard the draconic cry lofting through the sky and echoing of the surrounding mountain faces. Apparently the dragon was indeed at his perch this morning taking inventory of his personal Drakontai.

Ischarus froze in his position knowing that the canopy was thick above him. He couldn’t see the sky; there was no way that the dragon could see him. “Rhema!’ He cursed. “Semeion!” His voice was filled with venom as his mind hoped the two hadn’t been discovered in the dragon’s cave.

Ischarus stayed frozen while the sharp and angry draconic cries poured forth from the sky. The sound came at him from all angles. The dragon was flying through the air now. It had been enraged enough to leave its perch. That could only mean his anger was one step closer to massive destruction by fire.

Back in the village, Xando made a quick count of the villagers present. “One is missing!” he hissed under his breath. “Who would dare miss Morning Prayer? The wrath of our father dragon will certainly be upon us! If this is one person’s way of sabotaging the plan then we will all be consumed in anger for it!”

The dragon circled above as its rage consumed it. With each pass he drew closer and closer to the ground. He was constantly counting and recounting his villagers in hopes that he had made a mistake. As his eyes darted through the village he was sure that there had not been an error. The Morning Prayer had the same purpose as the evening vigil. It was designed to have stationary worshippers to allow for an easy counting. There was indeed one missing.

Suddenly a figure broke from the woods and pushed forth into the midst of the villagers. The cloak appeared to match the rest of the villagers’ cloaks and without a hint of remorse the villager assumed the same prayer position as the rest of the village. Grixanthrosilithiss beat hard with his wings and rose into the air. His draconic screaming ceased and he returned to the perch. They were all present and accounted for now. The father dragon did not wait to hear if the Morning Prayer ritual had resumed. His anger needed to be placated. So long as the villagers were all there he didn’t have enough to destroy them and still press forward with his plan for domination of the surrounding land. The beast strutted angrily into his lair and admired his queen for a moment. “I will be in my treasure chamber. I need to appease my lust.”

The new Provenience, bearing his draconic children, gently pressed her hand against her abdomen once the dragon strutted by her. Her touch was welcomed by a small yet forceful kick. Then there was another kick. Suddenly her bladder screamed out in pain as it too was kicked. She nearly wet herself at the sudden increase of internal pressure. She hurried to the room that her dragon father had designated for relieving herself and sat down. “Triplets,” the woman pondered as she allowed her bladder to empty. “I am sure of it.

Back in the heart of the forest, Ischarus waited several minutes after the draconic cries receded. Once he heard the muffled Morning Prayer vigil beginning again he assumed that the dragon had been appeased and returned to his perch. It would be safe to move forward; although it would also pay to be cautious. He carefully picked his way through the dense undergrowth.

After an hour of delicate walking, Ischarus arrived at the hidden cave entrance. “The Provenience wishes you well.” It was all that Ischarus could think to say that would not immediately give his position away. Assuming that Semeion and Rhema had not been compromised, it was long enough for them to recognize his voice. If they were compromised, the sentence would not have seemed largely out of place.

Rhema replied with joy in her voice. “I hope she has plenty to eat this morning.”

Ischarus quickly turned to the sound of the familiar voice and took a couple of quick steps into the cave towards it. Rhema also rose and stepped forward to meet Ischarus’ silhouette. Ischarus struggled to keep his voice to a whisper as relief poured through him as he embraced Rhema. “As I was walking through the forest I heard the dragon cry. I was afraid you had been found!”

Rhema replied with an equal amount of relief. “I feared that you had been discovered at first. But then our guest here informed us of a simple oversight out of his zeal for his dragon father. By keeping him tied up here in the entrance, the morning count would not be accurate. Ordinarily the dragon would not have cared, but since Charis was taken a few months ago their dragon father had become especially possessive of his people. It seems that he relishes any excuse to punish them.”

Ischarus seemed a bit lost by Rhema’s explanation of the earlier draconic cries. “Guest?”

Rhema smiled as she replied. “Yes, guest. We had an intruder last night. He was overcome and bound. We assumed he could be transported to the storage area where keeping watch over him would be significantly easier.”

Ischarus paused a moment and took inventory of the situation. “And you are safe? What of Semeion?”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus’ protectiveness. “I am indeed safe. Semeion is …”

Before Rhema could finish her sentence, Semeion cut her off. “Here. I just returned and I heard you talking. I didn’t want to interrupt your moment together until I was sure you had progressed to the business of the day.” Semeion spoke quietly as he stepped deeper into the cave.

Ischarus turned to the young mage and spoke in a relieved tone. “You too are safe, then. Good to see!” Ischarus greeted Semeion with a firm handshake.

Semeion responded by returning Ischarus’ handshake and then hugging Rhema as she approached him. “The mission was a success. I got there barely in enough time. The dragon was descending upon the village.” After speaking, Semeion released Rhema and removed his outer cloak. He tossed it in the direction where their prisoner lay.

The prisoner scowled at the news from Semeion. “Do you think that you can hide from the dragon father forever? Your tricks won’t help you without end. You will be discovered.”

Semeion smiled, enjoying the ability to play with the captive man. “Well, thanks to you we now realize that at each vigil all must be counted. And largely thanks to your alerting us as to why the dragon father was upset I was able to make an appearance. In the eyes of the villagers my willingness to potentially sacrifice my own life to attempt to appease the dragon father and save the village has furthered our case to be the heroes of this village. Those who were unsure of our ability to save them are much more firm in their faith now. The village is fully supportive as I speak.” Semeion smiled as he turned to Ischarus.

Ischarus patted Semeion firmly on the shoulder. “Well done, friend! It would seem that the two of you have everything under control?”

Rhema chimed in with her opinion. “If I may. Our task would be easier if the captive was removed. Then we could sleep in shifts without fear. Can he be moved through the forest during the day?”

Ischarus drew out his long sword as quietly as possible and approached the captive villager. “That depends if he’ll walk quietly by himself or if I’ll need to drag his broken body through the forest?”

The captive man didn’t really fear Semeion’s magic or Rhema’s mind control. The cold steel blade was much more threatening in Ischarus’ strong arms, however. “I can walk.” The words seethed out of the man’s mouth as though he were forcing them out by will rather than by the air in his lungs.

Ischarus turned and stowed his sword. He reached out and embraced Rhema once more, kissing her on her forehead. “Good, then we shall leave now. You two need your rest, and the dragon father has been appeased for now. This is the most advantageous time to move.”

The captive man was forced to his feet and in a matter of seconds Ischarus shook Semeion’s hand once more and kissed Rhema again on the forehead. “Be safe, both of you.” Both Rhema and Semeion nodded in reply.

As he passed out of the entrance to the hidden cave he heard Semeion ask Rhema a question. “Well, the two of you seem to be drawing close?” There was a happy tone in his voice. Unfortunately, Ischarus was already too far away to hear Rhema’s response.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus slowly picked his way through the forest knowing full well that the sun would be up at any moment. They were already hiding in the shadow of the dragon, so there didn’t seem to be any need to tempt fate and move too quickly. It would be easy enough to alert the red wyrm of their presence. Moving too quickly would simply add to the ease of making a mistake. It would be nearly impossible to arrive before sunrise anyway; the packing of the food had taken longer than anticipated. Of course, that was a good thing. The store of food was greater than anticipated as well.

After Ischarus had walked for over a half an hour, the sun crept over the mountain tops and Ischarus could now hear the rhythmic chanting of the villagers. This would be their Morning Prayer vigil offered up to their dragon father. Ischarus assumed that it was unlikely that Grixanthrosilithiss would make an appearance. The dragon had been present in the evening to take stock of his people. There would be little need to make sure they had made it safely through the night.

As soon as the prayer vigil had come to Ischarus’ ears he knew that he had been wrong about his assumptions of the dragon father’s position. He heard the draconic cry lofting through the sky and echoing of the surrounding mountain faces. Apparently the dragon was indeed at his perch this morning taking inventory of his personal Drakontai.

Ischarus froze in his position knowing that the canopy was thick above him. He couldn’t see the sky; there was no way that the dragon could see him. “Rhema!’ He cursed. “Semeion!” His voice was filled with venom as his mind hoped the two hadn’t been discovered in the dragon’s cave.

Ischarus stayed frozen while the sharp and angry draconic cries poured forth from the sky. The sound came at him from all angles. The dragon was flying through the air now. It had been enraged enough to leave its perch. That could only mean his anger was one step closer to massive destruction by fire.

Back in the village, Xando made a quick count of the villagers present. “One is missing!” he hissed under his breath. “Who would dare miss Morning Prayer? The wrath of our father dragon will certainly be upon us! If this is one person’s way of sabotaging the plan then we will all be consumed in anger for it!”

The dragon circled above as its rage consumed it. With each pass he drew closer and closer to the ground. He was constantly counting and recounting his villagers in hopes that he had made a mistake. As his eyes darted through the village he was sure that there had not been an error. The Morning Prayer had the same purpose as the evening vigil. It was designed to have stationary worshippers to allow for an easy counting. There was indeed one missing.

Suddenly a figure broke from the woods and pushed forth into the midst of the villagers. The cloak appeared to match the rest of the villagers’ cloaks and without a hint of remorse the villager assumed the same prayer position as the rest of the village. Grixanthrosilithiss beat hard with his wings and rose into the air. His draconic screaming ceased and he returned to the perch. They were all present and accounted for now. The father dragon did not wait to hear if the Morning Prayer ritual had resumed. His anger needed to be placated. So long as the villagers were all there he didn’t have enough to destroy them and still press forward with his plan for domination of the surrounding land. The beast strutted angrily into his lair and admired his queen for a moment. “I will be in my treasure chamber. I need to appease my lust.”

The new Provenience, bearing his draconic children, gently pressed her hand against her abdomen once the dragon strutted by her. Her touch was welcomed by a small yet forceful kick. Then there was another kick. Suddenly her bladder screamed out in pain as it too was kicked. She nearly wet herself at the sudden increase of internal pressure. She hurried to the room that her dragon father had designated for relieving herself and sat down. “Triplets,” the woman pondered as she allowed her bladder to empty. “I am sure of it.

Back in the heart of the forest, Ischarus waited several minutes after the draconic cries receded. Once he heard the muffled Morning Prayer vigil beginning again he assumed that the dragon had been appeased and returned to his perch. It would be safe to move forward; although it would also pay to be cautious. He carefully picked his way through the dense undergrowth.

After an hour of delicate walking, Ischarus arrived at the hidden cave entrance. “The Provenience wishes you well.” It was all that Ischarus could think to say that would not immediately give his position away. Assuming that Semeion and Rhema had not been compromised, it was long enough for them to recognize his voice. If they were compromised, the sentence would not have seemed largely out of place.

Rhema replied with joy in her voice. “I hope she has plenty to eat this morning.”

Ischarus quickly turned to the sound of the familiar voice and took a couple of quick steps into the cave towards it. Rhema also rose and stepped forward to meet Ischarus’ silhouette. Ischarus struggled to keep his voice to a whisper as relief poured through him as he embraced Rhema. “As I was walking through the forest I heard the dragon cry. I was afraid you had been found!”

Rhema replied with an equal amount of relief. “I feared that you had been discovered at first. But then our guest here informed us of a simple oversight out of his zeal for his dragon father. By keeping him tied up here in the entrance, the morning count would not be accurate. Ordinarily the dragon would not have cared, but since Charis was taken a few months ago their dragon father had become especially possessive of his people. It seems that he relishes any excuse to punish them.”

Ischarus seemed a bit lost by Rhema’s explanation of the earlier draconic cries. “Guest?”

Rhema smiled as she replied. “Yes, guest. We had an intruder last night. He was overcome and bound. We assumed he could be transported to the storage area where keeping watch over him would be significantly easier.”

Ischarus paused a moment and took inventory of the situation. “And you are safe? What of Semeion?”

Rhema smiled at Ischarus’ protectiveness. “I am indeed safe. Semeion is …”

Before Rhema could finish her sentence, Semeion cut her off. “Here. I just returned and I heard you talking. I didn’t want to interrupt your moment together until I was sure you had progressed to the business of the day.” Semeion spoke quietly as he stepped deeper into the cave.

Ischarus turned to the young mage and spoke in a relieved tone. “You too are safe, then. Good to see!” Ischarus greeted Semeion with a firm handshake.

Semeion responded by returning Ischarus’ handshake and then hugging Rhema as she approached him. “The mission was a success. I got there barely in enough time. The dragon was descending upon the village.” After speaking, Semeion released Rhema and removed his outer cloak. He tossed it in the direction where their prisoner lay.

The prisoner scowled at the news from Semeion. “Do you think that you can hide from the dragon father forever? Your tricks won’t help you without end. You will be discovered.”

Semeion smiled, enjoying the ability to play with the captive man. “Well, thanks to you we now realize that at each vigil all must be counted. And largely thanks to your alerting us as to why the dragon father was upset I was able to make an appearance. In the eyes of the villagers my willingness to potentially sacrifice my own life to attempt to appease the dragon father and save the village has furthered our case to be the heroes of this village. Those who were unsure of our ability to save them are much more firm in their faith now. The village is fully supportive as I speak.” Semeion smiled as he turned to Ischarus.

Ischarus patted Semeion firmly on the shoulder. “Well done, friend! It would seem that the two of you have everything under control?”

Rhema chimed in with her opinion. “If I may. Our task would be easier if the captive was removed. Then we could sleep in shifts without fear. Can he be moved through the forest during the day?”

Ischarus drew out his long sword as quietly as possible and approached the captive villager. “That depends if he’ll walk quietly by himself or if I’ll need to drag his broken body through the forest?”

The captive man didn’t really fear Semeion’s magic or Rhema’s mind control. The cold steel blade was much more threatening in Ischarus’ strong arms, however. “I can walk.” The words seethed out of the man’s mouth as though he were forcing them out by will rather than by the air in his lungs.

Ischarus turned and stowed his sword. He reached out and embraced Rhema once more, kissing her on her forehead. “Good, then we shall leave now. You two need your rest, and the dragon father has been appeased for now. This is the most advantageous time to move.”

The captive man was forced to his feet and in a matter of seconds Ischarus shook Semeion’s hand once more and kissed Rhema again on the forehead. “Be safe, both of you.” Both Rhema and Semeion nodded in reply.

As he passed out of the entrance to the hidden cave he heard Semeion ask Rhema a question. “Well, the two of you seem to be drawing close?” There was a happy tone in his voice. Unfortunately, Ischarus was already too far away to hear Rhema’s response.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

Ischarus arrived back at the cave where Charis was protecting the storage of food. He had the captive Drakontos in tow and honestly had received little trouble from him along the whole walk. Not once did Ischarus need to do anything more than guide him along the path. The Drakontos man followed with a beaten and resigned expression upon his face.

Once they arrived in the cave, they were greeted with amazement by Charis. “Ischarus, what happened?”

Ischarus shrugged nonchalantly as he guided the man into the cave. “Apparently this one decided that the plan would not go forward as scheduled. Last night while we packed up the food store he decided to head into the dragon’s lair and warn his father dragon. Fortunately, Semeion and Rhema were there to convince him otherwise.”

Charis looked to the man with sympathy. He refused to meet her gaze. Charis’ hands went to the binding ropes around the man’s wrists and she spoke, “Darrok?” There was a hint of confusion in Charis’ question. “If anyone had the most to gain from our promises it would be you.”

Darrok still didn’t lift his head. He remained silent, his head bowed before Charis as if he were a disobedient slave about to be struck. Charis continued, “Did not the promises of my friends to save even your daughter from the wrath of our father dragon sway you?”

Darrok finally lifted his head to meet her eyes. His own eyes burned with fire. “You promise only death. Do they think they can break into the father dragon’s lair without being noticed? Do they think that they can save my daughter and escape to freedom? It is one thing to plan and dream, but I have seen the unrelenting wrath of our father dragon. His wrath knows no end. Since your departure several months ago he continues to push us to work until we are broken masses of flesh. Then he expects us to work even more!”

Charis held up her hands in a gesture to encourage the man to calm his emotions. From across the room, Ischarus stood ready at the entrance but didn’t desire to make his presence known unless it was necessary. As far as Ischarus was concerned, the man was bound and thus harmless. He was prepared to act in a moment’s notice; but for now he was content to stand behind the man in silence.

Charis continued her examination of the man. “I understand what you are saying, Darrok. But your daughter will surely be slaughtered as a sacrifice as soon as she has produced enough offspring and her body is worn out. Then from what I have been told the dragon father will begin breeding those offspring into a new race of loyal Drakontai. There is no hope for you here.”

The man replied bitterly, “Then at least you and I agree on something. There is no hope for us here. Yet there is also no hope in pursuing a plan that within a week will place us on the wrong side of a dragon’s breath. If the plan that you and your friends devised could be stopped at the least our communal life would have continued for some time.”

Charis continued to look upon Darrok with sympathy. “Do you have such little faith in us to be able to make such assumptions? My new friends were able to free me from our dragon father’s grasp. They have managed to come back to my land without detection. They have accomplished many great things to come this far. Why can you not have faith?”

Darrok responded to Charis’ sympathy with even more anger. “How can you have such faith? Do you not see the cruelty and unrelenting oppression around you? You should leave now while your freedom is yours to grasp. Your mission cannot succeed. Our dragon father is all powerful in his wrath, anger, and lust for power.”

Finally Ischarus saw his opening. Ischarus reached deep within himself and remembered the religious training handed down to him by his own dragon father. “Nothing that is alive and born is all powerful, Darrok. Nothing. The very nature of the process of birth makes a being subject to the rest of the world. The tighter your dragon father has drawn his claws around the community the more resentment he has allowed to build up. Your people, Charis’ people, want to cast off their yoke. The more your dragon father grabs onto his power the more the rest of the world slips through his claws.”

Darrok shook his head and spun around on his heels. “Is that what you live on? I should hope that your sword is more skillful than your tongue, then. Do you plan on saving us through your philosophy? When it comes to the fiery breath of our dragon father you will see how very little truly slips through the grasp of my dragon father’s claws. I care for him no more than the rest of my village. But I am not blind to his ability to crush us all in an instant.”

Through the conversation Ischarus now saw why Charis pitied and yet simultaneously sympathized with Darrok. There could be no doubt about it. His will had been crushed. The grip that the dragon father held over this man was pure evil. Grixanthrosilithiss held this man purely in fear solely from the act of taking his daughter from him. There was little to like about Darrok’s argumentation; but there was much to admire in his desire to continue in slavery if it meant his daughter would continue to live.

Ischarus smiled as he hoped he could affect both the freedom of the people and the freedom of the new Provenience. Darrok gave Ischarus a strange look as the odd smile crept over Ischarus’ face. The captive Drakontos spoke with a fair amount of venom in his tone, “What do you find so amusing?”

Ischarus shook his head. “I remember what my friend said earlier this morning. He said that your act of disobedience had taught us a valuable lesson about the days to come and what we would need to do to fool your dragon father. Through your attempt to stop our plan a bit of fortune had come our way. Now I realize that a bit of fortune has come your way as well. In a manner of speaking, you are already safe. By bringing you here you have already escaped the wrath that you so deeply fear. You are free from the breath of your dragon father, Darrok. You have escaped!”

The odd smile remained on Ischarus’ face. However, Darrok didn’t share Ischarus’ amusement with that fact. Rather, Darrok knew Ischarus was correct and it irritated him even more. Immediately Darrok silenced himself and returned his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t stand the fact that Ischarus was right. He was free now that he was here in the caves. His freedom would be bought over the coming days by the hard work and even greater likelihood of death in his village.

Gently Charis reached out to touch the silenced Darrok. “Come over to the corner of the room, Darrok. I will show you mercy and give you comfort and something to eat.”

Darrok shrugged away from Charis and refused her charity. He did follow Charis to the other side of the room on his own power, however. His spirit was broken and his wounds would need time to heal. He welcomed the chance to sit alone in the dark in the far corner of the cave.

The next several days passed uneventfully for the foursome as they worked hard to make preparations for the exodus out of Quehalost. Each day the donations for the supplies grew larger as the confidence among the people simultaneously grew. With each day that they managed to keep from being discovered they strengthened in confidence that the plan might work. As their confidence strengthened, they felt more eager to work in the fields and hold less back at night.

During the night, Ischarus was soon making multiple trips from the village to the cave in keeping up with the pace that the villagers brought forth harvested supplies. He rotated the horses in pairs with each trip, allowing the horses time to rest between pulls.

Charis became Darrok’s caretaker, although this was a vastly lonely job. Darrok slipped deeper into depression and spoke less as each day passed. Charis spent most of her time caring for the silent captive; yet because he would not talk she spent much of her time actually talking to the horses.

Semeion and Rhema likewise had an easy time. Semeion embraced the duty of being Darrok’s doppelganger in an attempt to continue to fool the father dragon. The village began to anticipate Semeion after a few appearances and Semeion found that with each appearance the people began to give him cakes made of flour and dried meat to take back to his associates. After a few days, Semeion had learned the worship rites so thoroughly that he was able to participate freely and make his attempt to fool the father dragon even more real.

Five days went by until Ischarus declared that they had enough food for the entire village stored for an extended stay underground out of the reach of the father dragon. The villagers were encouraged to work one more day and get a full night’s sleep the following night. After that night, the plan would come into being immediately following the Morning Prayer rite. Ischarus refrained from telling the people how they would know when to break for the caves; but he brought Xando to the cave the final night so that he would know the way to lead the people. Semeion was instructed to watch for the right time following the Morning Prayer and give Xando the cue. Xando would lead the people while Rhema and he climbed deeper into the dragon’s cave to find the new Provenience. It was only a matter of hours before they would find out if Darrok would have his fears proven or refuted.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Ischarus arrived back at the cave where Charis was protecting the storage of food. He had the captive Drakontos in tow and honestly had received little trouble from him along the whole walk. Not once did Ischarus need to do anything more than guide him along the path. The Drakontos man followed with a beaten and resigned expression upon his face.

Once they arrived in the cave, they were greeted with amazement by Charis. “Ischarus, what happened?”

Ischarus shrugged nonchalantly as he guided the man into the cave. “Apparently this one decided that the plan would not go forward as scheduled. Last night while we packed up the food store he decided to head into the dragon’s lair and warn his father dragon. Fortunately, Semeion and Rhema were there to convince him otherwise.”

Charis looked to the man with sympathy. He refused to meet her gaze. Charis’ hands went to the binding ropes around the man’s wrists and she spoke, “Darrok?” There was a hint of confusion in Charis’ question. “If anyone had the most to gain from our promises it would be you.”

Darrok still didn’t lift his head. He remained silent, his head bowed before Charis as if he were a disobedient slave about to be struck. Charis continued, “Did not the promises of my friends to save even your daughter from the wrath of our father dragon sway you?”

Darrok finally lifted his head to meet her eyes. His own eyes burned with fire. “You promise only death. Do they think they can break into the father dragon’s lair without being noticed? Do they think that they can save my daughter and escape to freedom? It is one thing to plan and dream, but I have seen the unrelenting wrath of our father dragon. His wrath knows no end. Since your departure several months ago he continues to push us to work until we are broken masses of flesh. Then he expects us to work even more!”

Charis held up her hands in a gesture to encourage the man to calm his emotions. From across the room, Ischarus stood ready at the entrance but didn’t desire to make his presence known unless it was necessary. As far as Ischarus was concerned, the man was bound and thus harmless. He was prepared to act in a moment’s notice; but for now he was content to stand behind the man in silence.

Charis continued her examination of the man. “I understand what you are saying, Darrok. But your daughter will surely be slaughtered as a sacrifice as soon as she has produced enough offspring and her body is worn out. Then from what I have been told the dragon father will begin breeding those offspring into a new race of loyal Drakontai. There is no hope for you here.”

The man replied bitterly, “Then at least you and I agree on something. There is no hope for us here. Yet there is also no hope in pursuing a plan that within a week will place us on the wrong side of a dragon’s breath. If the plan that you and your friends devised could be stopped at the least our communal life would have continued for some time.”

Charis continued to look upon Darrok with sympathy. “Do you have such little faith in us to be able to make such assumptions? My new friends were able to free me from our dragon father’s grasp. They have managed to come back to my land without detection. They have accomplished many great things to come this far. Why can you not have faith?”

Darrok responded to Charis’ sympathy with even more anger. “How can you have such faith? Do you not see the cruelty and unrelenting oppression around you? You should leave now while your freedom is yours to grasp. Your mission cannot succeed. Our dragon father is all powerful in his wrath, anger, and lust for power.”

Finally Ischarus saw his opening. Ischarus reached deep within himself and remembered the religious training handed down to him by his own dragon father. “Nothing that is alive and born is all powerful, Darrok. Nothing. The very nature of the process of birth makes a being subject to the rest of the world. The tighter your dragon father has drawn his claws around the community the more resentment he has allowed to build up. Your people, Charis’ people, want to cast off their yoke. The more your dragon father grabs onto his power the more the rest of the world slips through his claws.”

Darrok shook his head and spun around on his heels. “Is that what you live on? I should hope that your sword is more skillful than your tongue, then. Do you plan on saving us through your philosophy? When it comes to the fiery breath of our dragon father you will see how very little truly slips through the grasp of my dragon father’s claws. I care for him no more than the rest of my village. But I am not blind to his ability to crush us all in an instant.”

Through the conversation Ischarus now saw why Charis pitied and yet simultaneously sympathized with Darrok. There could be no doubt about it. His will had been crushed. The grip that the dragon father held over this man was pure evil. Grixanthrosilithiss held this man purely in fear solely from the act of taking his daughter from him. There was little to like about Darrok’s argumentation; but there was much to admire in his desire to continue in slavery if it meant his daughter would continue to live.

Ischarus smiled as he hoped he could affect both the freedom of the people and the freedom of the new Provenience. Darrok gave Ischarus a strange look as the odd smile crept over Ischarus’ face. The captive Drakontos spoke with a fair amount of venom in his tone, “What do you find so amusing?”

Ischarus shook his head. “I remember what my friend said earlier this morning. He said that your act of disobedience had taught us a valuable lesson about the days to come and what we would need to do to fool your dragon father. Through your attempt to stop our plan a bit of fortune had come our way. Now I realize that a bit of fortune has come your way as well. In a manner of speaking, you are already safe. By bringing you here you have already escaped the wrath that you so deeply fear. You are free from the breath of your dragon father, Darrok. You have escaped!”

The odd smile remained on Ischarus’ face. However, Darrok didn’t share Ischarus’ amusement with that fact. Rather, Darrok knew Ischarus was correct and it irritated him even more. Immediately Darrok silenced himself and returned his gaze to the floor. He couldn’t stand the fact that Ischarus was right. He was free now that he was here in the caves. His freedom would be bought over the coming days by the hard work and even greater likelihood of death in his village.

Gently Charis reached out to touch the silenced Darrok. “Come over to the corner of the room, Darrok. I will show you mercy and give you comfort and something to eat.”

Darrok shrugged away from Charis and refused her charity. He did follow Charis to the other side of the room on his own power, however. His spirit was broken and his wounds would need time to heal. He welcomed the chance to sit alone in the dark in the far corner of the cave.

The next several days passed uneventfully for the foursome as they worked hard to make preparations for the exodus out of Quehalost. Each day the donations for the supplies grew larger as the confidence among the people simultaneously grew. With each day that they managed to keep from being discovered they strengthened in confidence that the plan might work. As their confidence strengthened, they felt more eager to work in the fields and hold less back at night.

During the night, Ischarus was soon making multiple trips from the village to the cave in keeping up with the pace that the villagers brought forth harvested supplies. He rotated the horses in pairs with each trip, allowing the horses time to rest between pulls.

Charis became Darrok’s caretaker, although this was a vastly lonely job. Darrok slipped deeper into depression and spoke less as each day passed. Charis spent most of her time caring for the silent captive; yet because he would not talk she spent much of her time actually talking to the horses.

Semeion and Rhema likewise had an easy time. Semeion embraced the duty of being Darrok’s doppelganger in an attempt to continue to fool the father dragon. The village began to anticipate Semeion after a few appearances and Semeion found that with each appearance the people began to give him cakes made of flour and dried meat to take back to his associates. After a few days, Semeion had learned the worship rites so thoroughly that he was able to participate freely and make his attempt to fool the father dragon even more real.

Five days went by until Ischarus declared that they had enough food for the entire village stored for an extended stay underground out of the reach of the father dragon. The villagers were encouraged to work one more day and get a full night’s sleep the following night. After that night, the plan would come into being immediately following the Morning Prayer rite. Ischarus refrained from telling the people how they would know when to break for the caves; but he brought Xando to the cave the final night so that he would know the way to lead the people. Semeion was instructed to watch for the right time following the Morning Prayer and give Xando the cue. Xando would lead the people while Rhema and he climbed deeper into the dragon’s cave to find the new Provenience. It was only a matter of hours before they would find out if Darrok would have his fears proven or refuted.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT

The long awaited morning arrived. Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep. They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights. Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come. Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep. When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night.

This was not the case for any of the members of the party. They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead. Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit. In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring. Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties. The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day.

The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground. There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food. Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force. Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies. Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late. They were ready to put the coming day behind them.

In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil. A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary. It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people.

As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them. He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles. “Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves. They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly. So far, so good.” He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering. Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come. But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon. It was time.

Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground. His eyes darted around the scene of the village. Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right. Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible. It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right.

A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder. Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him. He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find. Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind.

The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader. “Your people seem restless this morning.”

Xando smiled and replied, “With good reason, I believe. They know what they have worked for. They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered. They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.”

Semeion nodded his head in agreement. “Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.”

Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people. They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another. “My people are good people, like Charis. We will manage.” There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership.

Semeion nodded calmly again. “I hope you are right. No, I know that you are right. But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?”

Xando smiled. “I suppose you are correct, Semeion. Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us. We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.”

Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him. “Are all of the people here?”

The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air. It was the call to gather. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. “We shall soon see. We shall soon see.” Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead. Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, “No go, and spread your message of calm. And keep it simple.”

Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him. For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away. Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count. The number had to be correct only one more time.

As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began. “Listen to me, all that can hear. Remember that you are a people oppressed. Pray like you have prayed the past week. Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.”

Some of the people around him nodded in understanding. Semeion continued. “Pass this message along.”

Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him. As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication. Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there. They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer. They assumed he was counting.

Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them. As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers. He had already counted them and was pleased with his count. He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch. “See those two that count? It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously. I believe one of them is your father, is it not?” Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people.

The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below. Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father. Nervously, she spoke, “I do not know, my dragon father. I cannot see as well as you.”

The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge. A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast. “I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind. At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power. In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously. See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?”

The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy. “Yes, my lord. It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.”

Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time. Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave. “You have pleased me today. I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway. Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below. Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.”

The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave. As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs. She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back. Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father.

At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship. Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone. They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months. They sang as a people crushed under oppression. They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt. They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer.

The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough. The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite. Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building. As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign. He was the only one looking up. He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there. The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees.


[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Chapter Twelve: THE LONG SHOT

The long awaited morning arrived. Most of the villagers had the benefit of a good night’s sleep. They were excited about their looming freedom; yet they had joyfully worked themselves to the bone the past few days and nights. Their minds tried to race with the thoughts of fleeing and the excitement of the day to come. Their exhausted bodies told them to lie down and go to sleep. When they eventually were able to find sleep, the majority of the villagers slept quite soundly during the night.

This was not the case for any of the members of the party. They had to be rather vigilant about keeping their watches and protecting the future of the days ahead. Semeion and Rhema hadn’t had any activity in the hidden cave besides a string of squirrels and the occasional rabbit. In truth, the job of guarding the hidden entrance to the dragon’s cave had become rather boring. Yet they had to remain attentive to their duties. The fact that they took turns sleeping in shifts had already messed up their sleeping schedule, making it even more difficult to focus on getting the rest that they would need for the coming day.

The same was true for Charis and Ischarus, except that they didn’t fear discovery from the dragon as much as they feared discovery from the denizens of the underground. There had been a few encounters as the days passed by, but a simple show of force was enough to scare off most of the animals that came their way in search of food. Fortunately for them they were far from the gnoll controlled lands and the kobolds underground were not prone to adventuring this far to the surface unless called forth by some greater force. Yet Charis had to remain especially cautious during the times when Ischarus was out with the horses bringing in the supplies. Between the duties of watching Darrok, protecting the food supplies, running the horses back and forth, and worrying about Semeion and Rhema, neither Charis nor Ischarus had been sleeping well of late. They were ready to put the coming day behind them.

In the village, people began to slowly mill about the circular flat stone altar around the normal time for the Morning Prayer vigil. A few had shown up early in anticipation, but fortunately most of the villagers had listened to Xando’s caution the night before about not doing anything out of the ordinary. It would be important that the village put on an appearance that this was simply just another day in the life of enslaved people.

As Xando noticed people were gathering early he peeked out a window of his own house to observe them. He spoke to himself as nervous energy flowed through his muscles. “Only a few out there this early, and they appear to be behaving themselves. They are standing around talking to one another rather than looking around expectantly. So far, so good.” He paced around his own quarters for a few more minutes until he heard more and more people gathering. Inside, his heart leapt with each beat in anticipation of the moments to come. But his body also told him that the rising of the sun would come soon. It was time.

Xando stepped out of the hut and descended the two stairs that brought him down to the level of the ground. His eyes darted around the scene of the village. Today more than any other day it was important that the count of the villagers was right. Slowly his eyes made a methodic path through the people, his lips moving as his count was barely audible. It was tough to count the people as they moved about, but the numbers seemed to appear to be right.

A hand touched him from behind, resting upon his shoulder. Xando jumped several inches off the ground as the hand landed upon his shoulder and startled him. He spun around quickly, not knowing what he would find. Much to his relief, he saw that Semeion had approached him from behind.

The young mage wanted to speak briefly to the village leader. “Your people seem restless this morning.”

Xando smiled and replied, “With good reason, I believe. They know what they have worked for. They know that the days of their labor under an oppressive master are numbered. They long to taste the freedom that you, Charis, and the others have promised.”

Semeion nodded his head in agreement. “Let us hope their excitement does not betray us in their zeal to finish the Morning Prayer.”

Xando took a brief second to turn around and look at his people. They were good people, but as the village gathered their nervous energy was feeding off of one another. “My people are good people, like Charis. We will manage.” There was a steadiness in Xando’s voice that Semeion understood as strength in leadership.

Semeion nodded calmly again. “I hope you are right. No, I know that you are right. But perhaps as we are called to worship it wouldn’t hurt to pass a message through the ranks to remember to do the rite as people who are under obvious oppression and not people who will soon be running for their freedom?”

Xando smiled. “I suppose you are correct, Semeion. Our dragon father has grown accustomed to this being an emotionless time for him to count us. We dare not change that and risk raising any suspicion.”

Semeion asked one final question as he could feel the tension among the people building around him. “Are all of the people here?”

The crisp sound of a small steel rod striking a metal triangle rang through the air. It was the call to gather. The sun was beginning to crest over the horizon. “We shall soon see. We shall soon see.” Xando repeated himself as if preparing himself for the moments ahead. Once he had taken a moment of break he continued, “No go, and spread your message of calm. And keep it simple.”

Xando placed his left hand upon Semeion’s shoulder as if he were laying a blessing upon him. For a second they locked their eyes in a joint glance and then they turned away. Each one eagerly anticipated doing the count. The number had to be correct only one more time.

As Semeion took his place upon the ground in a kneeling position he spoke softly before the prayers began. “Listen to me, all that can hear. Remember that you are a people oppressed. Pray like you have prayed the past week. Do not pray with any of the excitement building up inside you.”

Some of the people around him nodded in understanding. Semeion continued. “Pass this message along.”

Soon he could hear the gathered villagers passing along the message around him. As their heads bowed, they spoke softly so as to not give away the communication. Nobody looked up to the dragon father’s perch, but they all assumed he was there. They assumed he was awaiting the beginning of the prayer. They assumed he was counting.

Grixanthrosilithiss was indeed perched high above them. As he looked down, he did notice that there were two bowed heads that seemed to be actively counting the gathered worshippers. He had already counted them and was pleased with his count. He reached out with a claw and drew his Provenience to the very lip of the rocky perch. “See those two that count? It is good that they take my worship regulations so seriously. I believe one of them is your father, is it not?” Of course he was referring to Semeion, who had taken Darrok’s place among the worship of the people.

The Provenience looked down and could barely see the people praying below. Her eyesight was not nearly as keen as that of her dragon father. Nervously, she spoke, “I do not know, my dragon father. I cannot see as well as you.”

The dragon exhaled loudly and pulled her back from the ledge. A low rumble resembling a growl boiled forth from the inside of the beast. “I keep hoping that with each breeding more of my qualities will improve the weaknesses of human kind. At least your children will have their share of my own undiluted power. In any case, it is good that your father takes the worship so seriously. See what he has learned from your willingness to serve your people in this role?”

The new Provenience bowed in a slight curtsy. “Yes, my lord. It is time that they got over the oppression and learned again to take your commands so seriously.”

Grixanthrosilithiss smiled as he counted one last time. Satisfied, he turned away from the perch and led his Provenience into the cave. “You have pleased me today. I prefer the simple worship that you offer to me upon your mandolin far better than the flat worship of the people anyway. Sing to me so that your pleasant voice may cover up the grievous and uncaring worship below. Once that dreadful service is over I will take you to my horde so that I may admire you among my other possessions.”

The Provenience smiled genuinely as she was led back into the cave. As the dragon curled his tail around her and then sat surrounding her, she gathered up her mandolin and rested it upon her thighs. She reclined slightly, enjoying the warmth of the dragon’s scales upon her back. Slowly, she began to sing a love ballad to her dragon father.

At near the same time, the people on the ground below began their worship. Nobody desired to look up and see if the dragon was watching or they would have noticed that the dragon was gone. They sang their worship through in much of the same manner as they had done for the past months. They sang as a people crushed under oppression. They sang as if their hearts were far from where they knelt. They sang constantly pushing back the anticipation that swelled as they approached the end of the Morning Prayer.

The final declaration of the prayer rite – to go and work during the day for the glory of the dragon father – would come quick enough. The gathered community progressed rapidly through the prayer rite. Semeion resisted the urge to fidget as even he could feel within himself the excitement building. As they approached the end of the rite, he brought himself to look up for the sign. He was the only one looking up. He was the only one that noticed the dragon father wasn’t there. The rest of the village was firmly holding their stare upon the ground below their knees.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

The closing words of the prayer were sung. Semeion continued to look up as he waited for the signal. Cautiously he spoke softly, “Hold your positions! Do not move until I give the order! We must be patient and not tip our hand too soon or else all will be lost!”

Three-quarters of the way up the mountain the gray figure heard the end of the prayer. Using the abilities granted to him by his unfortunate ghostly condition, he vanished straight into the side of the mountain. In a matter of seconds he appeared within the chamber which contained the dragon’s horde. The figure looked about the room quickly, knowing that his choice would have to be significant. He grinned as he saw the piece that would surely catch the dragon’s attention. The portion of the treasure that had caught the gray figure’s eye sat nearly buried in one of the piles of gold that spanned the floor of the room. The deep redness of the large ruby sparkled brilliantly in contrast with the gold.

In a flash of movement the gray figure concentrated in order to be able to pick up the ruby. As he pulled it from the pile, a bit of the gold spilled while the pile attempted to seek a new balance. The ruby was larger than he anticipated, but it would still do. In fact, the larger size may have even made it a more perfect selection.

In the dragon’s main chamber, Grixanthrosilithiss lifted his head and his large reptilian eyes darted towards the passage that led to his horde room. The new Provenience was startled by the sudden movement and stopped playing and singing immediately.

As she stopped singing, her hand reached out to touch the dragon’s softer underbelly. She had grown accustomed to the motion as being one that would soothe the great wyrm. “What’s wrong?” The Provenience spoke with a concerned tone at the dragon’s sudden movement. She had seen the dragon alarmed before, but never had she seen him stare so intently into his horde chamber.

The wyrm looked to his Provenience and spoke as soft as possible for a creature of his size. “Silence. We may have a visitor among us.”

The gray figure knew that the ruby would not be able to leave the way that the figure had come. While the ghost could easily pass through walls and the like; the ruby could not. More importantly, even if the ruby could pass through the walls it would defeat the purpose of alerting the red dragon to the fact that a thief was present and stealing from the horde. The light-gray figure did not know that the spell casting prowess of the large wyrm was great enough to allow the dragon to know the location of every piece of his treasure so long as it was within the horde room.

The ghostly figure looked once more at the ruby and smiled. “This will do nicely, indeed!” The figure was pleased with his choice. With determination he rapidly flew through the air to the entrance of the horde room. In a flash he disappeared down the long hallway which led to the dragon’s main chamber.

Inside the main chamber the dragon rose in fury as it detected the movement of the ruby. Its scaled body rapidly uncoiled from around his Provenience, spilling her backwards onto the floor. She had been relaxing upon him, enjoying the natural warmth rising from his scales. When the support was moved, she rolled onto her back.

The Provenience thought to speak, but before she could bring the words to her lips the dragon bellowed loud enough to shake the items with the main chamber slightly. “There is a thief among my horde and he is coming this way!” The bellowing of the dragon echoed through the entire draconic lair.

Although the mountain didn’t actually move, the Provenience was sure that the foundations shook under the dragon’s fury. Wisely, she moved to the corner of the room that offered no passageways away. The fury of the dragon would be fierce; and surely the dragon would enjoy using its breath to destroy whatever creature found itself confronting the dragon. Within the corner she chose she would have the best chance of avoiding being caught in the middle of the dragon’s wrath.

At the foot of the mountain, Semeion and the villagers heard the draconic bellowing. Semeion beamed with excitement as he began to improvise in his mind. Once he had a quick improvisational plan he spoke, his voice betraying his excitement. “Listen to me! The sign for our departure is coming quickly now. Continue to bow with your heads to the ground. Xando, can you begin us again in any chant that is about two minutes from the conclusion of the prayer?”

Xando did not respond, but his eyes darted wildly as he mentally sorted through the Morning Prayer rite. Finally the draconic words came to his mind and he began the chant again. “Now the sun has risen …” The entire village immediately picked up on the location within the Morning Prayer rite and joined him in song. Semeion began to chant as well, having learned the rite from the past few days of practice.

Back inside the dragon’s main chamber the wyrm turned his body around so that he was facing directly down the tunnel. The gray figure spotted the dragon first and realized that its presence had been detected earlier than it had expected. Using its ghostly abilities to its advantage, the figure charged up the tunnel at the dragon until it saw the beast inhale a large volume of air. As the dragon’s neck sprang forward and poured a tremendous volume of flame from out of its mouth, the gray figure floated off of the ground and rose to the top of the ceiling. He twisted out of the way of the dragon’s flames and soared over the effect of the breath.

Grixanthrosilithiss stopped his breath short as he noticed only too late that the figure had evaded his devastating fire. The dragon raised his head, attempting to block the passage with his massive and once more coiled neck. The gray figure did realize that the dragon would need a bit of time to recharge its fiery breath and now it would prefer to attack with wings and claws. The figure also spotted the opening that it needed.

With a mighty toss the ghostly figure threw the ruby down to the ground at the base of the dragon’s feet. The ruby hit the ground a skidded underneath the dragon and out from under the back of the beast. The ruby shot across the room after emerging from under where the dragon’s tail connected with the dragon’s body.

This action caught the dragon off guard. The beast was helpless to stop the speeding ruby, but it knew that the figure was trapped in the tunnel. If it could finish off the intruder in the tunnel it could easily retrieve the ruby once the threat was over. Grixanthrosilithiss lunged with his mighty fangs and bit down hard in the direction of the gray figure.

Free from the material possession in the form of the ruby, the gray figure had planned for the dragon’s bite. As the beast’s jaws cut the air in front of him the ghostly figure simply flew into the rock beside him. The ghostly image was not held by the same physical boundaries that held the dragon. In an instant the gray figure emerged from the wall in the dragon’s main chamber where the tunnel to the horde room branched off. The figure rapidly floated over to where the precious stone lay and snatched the ruby from where it had come to rest upon the floor. The dragon’s head and neck were still within the confines of the tunnel.

Grixanthrosilithiss’ new Provenience shrieked as she saw the ghostly figure. The dragon heard the shriek and instinctively backed out of the tunnel. By the time the dragon was able to turn his body around the gray figure had already snatched up the ruby and floated from the main chamber onto the dragon’s perch. He had a good lead, but it would vanish quickly when the dragon took to the air. The ghost could float fast enough against humans and the like; but it had no chance of outpacing the dragon. The gray figure’s only chance was to hope to use its greater maneuverability until it could get to the forest. Once among the trees, its maneuverability would be a greater asset than the dragon’s great flying speed.

Semeion looked on from below as the villagers again drew near the end of the Morning Prayer vigil. He saw the gray figure emerge from the dragon’s perch and his heart leapt with excitement. It wouldn’t be long now.

No sooner had Semeion completed the thought than the large form of the red dragon broke into the sky in pursuit of the fleeing gray figure. The dragon howled in rage, drawing up more than a few glances from the villagers below. Semeion noticed that the villagers were on the verge of being distracted.

Speaking only loud enough to be barely heard over the chanting villagers Semeion added, “All is well, keep singing! We are almost there! Put your heads down!”

The villagers responded to Semeion’s urging out of fear. Their heads snapped to the ground and the chanting wavered a bit before becoming strong once again. Semeion continued to glance up, tracking the chase across the sky.

It was obvious the dragon possessed the greater speed. Only the sudden lurches of the gray figure kept the chase alive. Time and time again the dragon barely overshot the figure as the ghostly image dodged out of the way of the fangs, claws, and the occasional draconic breath. Slowly, the chase was descending to the ground according to the plan. Slowly, the chase was moving toward the east. The gray figure was luring the great wyrm away from the mountain where Ischarus and Charis waited.

After only a few minutes the chase was close enough to the ground that the treetops blocked the view of it from the village. Semeion leapt to his feet and began grabbing villagers by the shoulders and pulling them up to their feet. “Run!” Semeion shouted. “Follow Xando to your freedom. Do not return for anything. Flee with your lives!”

Xando sprang to his feet. For an instant he caught Semeion’s eyes and gave him a sympathetic look. Xando was grateful for this chance to lead his people to freedom. He also knew that for Semeion the greater challenge was still before him. As people rose to their feet and blocked Semeion from his view, he spoke a quick prayer. This prayer was not a prayer to his dragon father. Rather, this prayer was to an unknown god that he was sure had to exist beyond the confines of the known world. Once his prayer was complete the village leader turned and charged into the forest heading west.

Semeion ran to the secret entrance at the foot of the mountain. As he broke to the south and left the confines of the village behind him he heard Xando encouraging the people. “Keep running! Do not stop until the rock tunnels protect you!”

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
The closing words of the prayer were sung. Semeion continued to look up as he waited for the signal. Cautiously he spoke softly, “Hold your positions! Do not move until I give the order! We must be patient and not tip our hand too soon or else all will be lost!”

Three-quarters of the way up the mountain the gray figure heard the end of the prayer. Using the abilities granted to him by his unfortunate ghostly condition, he vanished straight into the side of the mountain. In a matter of seconds he appeared within the chamber which contained the dragon’s horde. The figure looked about the room quickly, knowing that his choice would have to be significant. He grinned as he saw the piece that would surely catch the dragon’s attention. The portion of the treasure that had caught the gray figure’s eye sat nearly buried in one of the piles of gold that spanned the floor of the room. The deep redness of the large ruby sparkled brilliantly in contrast with the gold.

In a flash of movement the gray figure concentrated in order to be able to pick up the ruby. As he pulled it from the pile, a bit of the gold spilled while the pile attempted to seek a new balance. The ruby was larger than he anticipated, but it would still do. In fact, the larger size may have even made it a more perfect selection.

In the dragon’s main chamber, Grixanthrosilithiss lifted his head and his large reptilian eyes darted towards the passage that led to his horde room. The new Provenience was startled by the sudden movement and stopped playing and singing immediately.

As she stopped singing, her hand reached out to touch the dragon’s softer underbelly. She had grown accustomed to the motion as being one that would soothe the great wyrm. “What’s wrong?” The Provenience spoke with a concerned tone at the dragon’s sudden movement. She had seen the dragon alarmed before, but never had she seen him stare so intently into his horde chamber.

The wyrm looked to his Provenience and spoke as soft as possible for a creature of his size. “Silence. We may have a visitor among us.”

The gray figure knew that the ruby would not be able to leave the way that the figure had come. While the ghost could easily pass through walls and the like; the ruby could not. More importantly, even if the ruby could pass through the walls it would defeat the purpose of alerting the red dragon to the fact that a thief was present and stealing from the horde. The light-gray figure did not know that the spell casting prowess of the large wyrm was great enough to allow the dragon to know the location of every piece of his treasure so long as it was within the horde room.

The ghostly figure looked once more at the ruby and smiled. “This will do nicely, indeed!” The figure was pleased with his choice. With determination he rapidly flew through the air to the entrance of the horde room. In a flash he disappeared down the long hallway which led to the dragon’s main chamber.

Inside the main chamber the dragon rose in fury as it detected the movement of the ruby. Its scaled body rapidly uncoiled from around his Provenience, spilling her backwards onto the floor. She had been relaxing upon him, enjoying the natural warmth rising from his scales. When the support was moved, she rolled onto her back.

The Provenience thought to speak, but before she could bring the words to her lips the dragon bellowed loud enough to shake the items with the main chamber slightly. “There is a thief among my horde and he is coming this way!” The bellowing of the dragon echoed through the entire draconic lair.

Although the mountain didn’t actually move, the Provenience was sure that the foundations shook under the dragon’s fury. Wisely, she moved to the corner of the room that offered no passageways away. The fury of the dragon would be fierce; and surely the dragon would enjoy using its breath to destroy whatever creature found itself confronting the dragon. Within the corner she chose she would have the best chance of avoiding being caught in the middle of the dragon’s wrath.

At the foot of the mountain, Semeion and the villagers heard the draconic bellowing. Semeion beamed with excitement as he began to improvise in his mind. Once he had a quick improvisational plan he spoke, his voice betraying his excitement. “Listen to me! The sign for our departure is coming quickly now. Continue to bow with your heads to the ground. Xando, can you begin us again in any chant that is about two minutes from the conclusion of the prayer?”

Xando did not respond, but his eyes darted wildly as he mentally sorted through the Morning Prayer rite. Finally the draconic words came to his mind and he began the chant again. “Now the sun has risen …” The entire village immediately picked up on the location within the Morning Prayer rite and joined him in song. Semeion began to chant as well, having learned the rite from the past few days of practice.

Back inside the dragon’s main chamber the wyrm turned his body around so that he was facing directly down the tunnel. The gray figure spotted the dragon first and realized that its presence had been detected earlier than it had expected. Using its ghostly abilities to its advantage, the figure charged up the tunnel at the dragon until it saw the beast inhale a large volume of air. As the dragon’s neck sprang forward and poured a tremendous volume of flame from out of its mouth, the gray figure floated off of the ground and rose to the top of the ceiling. He twisted out of the way of the dragon’s flames and soared over the effect of the breath.

Grixanthrosilithiss stopped his breath short as he noticed only too late that the figure had evaded his devastating fire. The dragon raised his head, attempting to block the passage with his massive and once more coiled neck. The gray figure did realize that the dragon would need a bit of time to recharge its fiery breath and now it would prefer to attack with wings and claws. The figure also spotted the opening that it needed.

With a mighty toss the ghostly figure threw the ruby down to the ground at the base of the dragon’s feet. The ruby hit the ground a skidded underneath the dragon and out from under the back of the beast. The ruby shot across the room after emerging from under where the dragon’s tail connected with the dragon’s body.

This action caught the dragon off guard. The beast was helpless to stop the speeding ruby, but it knew that the figure was trapped in the tunnel. If it could finish off the intruder in the tunnel it could easily retrieve the ruby once the threat was over. Grixanthrosilithiss lunged with his mighty fangs and bit down hard in the direction of the gray figure.

Free from the material possession in the form of the ruby, the gray figure had planned for the dragon’s bite. As the beast’s jaws cut the air in front of him the ghostly figure simply flew into the rock beside him. The ghostly image was not held by the same physical boundaries that held the dragon. In an instant the gray figure emerged from the wall in the dragon’s main chamber where the tunnel to the horde room branched off. The figure rapidly floated over to where the precious stone lay and snatched the ruby from where it had come to rest upon the floor. The dragon’s head and neck were still within the confines of the tunnel.

Grixanthrosilithiss’ new Provenience shrieked as she saw the ghostly figure. The dragon heard the shriek and instinctively backed out of the tunnel. By the time the dragon was able to turn his body around the gray figure had already snatched up the ruby and floated from the main chamber onto the dragon’s perch. He had a good lead, but it would vanish quickly when the dragon took to the air. The ghost could float fast enough against humans and the like; but it had no chance of outpacing the dragon. The gray figure’s only chance was to hope to use its greater maneuverability until it could get to the forest. Once among the trees, its maneuverability would be a greater asset than the dragon’s great flying speed.

Semeion looked on from below as the villagers again drew near the end of the Morning Prayer vigil. He saw the gray figure emerge from the dragon’s perch and his heart leapt with excitement. It wouldn’t be long now.

No sooner had Semeion completed the thought than the large form of the red dragon broke into the sky in pursuit of the fleeing gray figure. The dragon howled in rage, drawing up more than a few glances from the villagers below. Semeion noticed that the villagers were on the verge of being distracted.

Speaking only loud enough to be barely heard over the chanting villagers Semeion added, “All is well, keep singing! We are almost there! Put your heads down!”

The villagers responded to Semeion’s urging out of fear. Their heads snapped to the ground and the chanting wavered a bit before becoming strong once again. Semeion continued to glance up, tracking the chase across the sky.

It was obvious the dragon possessed the greater speed. Only the sudden lurches of the gray figure kept the chase alive. Time and time again the dragon barely overshot the figure as the ghostly image dodged out of the way of the fangs, claws, and the occasional draconic breath. Slowly, the chase was descending to the ground according to the plan. Slowly, the chase was moving toward the east. The gray figure was luring the great wyrm away from the mountain where Ischarus and Charis waited.

After only a few minutes the chase was close enough to the ground that the treetops blocked the view of it from the village. Semeion leapt to his feet and began grabbing villagers by the shoulders and pulling them up to their feet. “Run!” Semeion shouted. “Follow Xando to your freedom. Do not return for anything. Flee with your lives!”

Xando sprang to his feet. For an instant he caught Semeion’s eyes and gave him a sympathetic look. Xando was grateful for this chance to lead his people to freedom. He also knew that for Semeion the greater challenge was still before him. As people rose to their feet and blocked Semeion from his view, he spoke a quick prayer. This prayer was not a prayer to his dragon father. Rather, this prayer was to an unknown god that he was sure had to exist beyond the confines of the known world. Once his prayer was complete the village leader turned and charged into the forest heading west.

Semeion ran to the secret entrance at the foot of the mountain. As he broke to the south and left the confines of the village behind him he heard Xando encouraging the people. “Keep running! Do not stop until the rock tunnels protect you!”
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

Semeion reached the hidden cave where Rhema should have been waiting for him. However, when he arrived there he found that he was alone. “Rhema?” He called out softly at first. He was used to having to be quiet in case the dragon should get curious about a noise that he heard.

After several panicked moments of being unable to find Rhema, he remembered that the dragon had been lured out of its lair and his volume began to increase. As far as he knew, the Provenience wasn’t much to fear. She should be the only threat remaining in the lair and her hearing would likely not be good enough to hear him calling at this distance.

With this revelation, Semeion called out much more loudly. “Rhema? Where are you?” His voice echoed through the chamber and tunnel leading up the mountain. For nearly a minute there was no reply.

Semeion moved further into the tunnel to take a closer look at the rough carved steps that lead up to the dragon’s main chamber. There wasn’t any evidence that Rhema had passed over them and begun the day’s important task without him. Then again, they were worn from centuries of foot traffic and they were stone after all. Rhema wouldn’t have left much of a trace even if she had gone up them. Making the situation even more complex was Semeion’s lack of training in the department of being able to track a person. As Semeion focused on the steps, he heard a sound calling him back out of his thoughts.

Rhema’s voice shot through the cave and into Semeion’s ears like a warm breeze on a cool autumn day. “Semeion? Semeion, what’s wrong? Your voice is panicked!”

Semeion left the stairs deeper into the tunnel and returned to the cave entrance. As he did, he heard the sounds of heavy breathing and some snorting. Once his eyes had adjusted to the limited amount of light offered at the entrance of the cave he noticed that Rhema had brought Thana, Shauvry, and Abijou to the cave entrance with her.

When Rhema saw Semeion approaching, she smiled and spoke quickly. “I thought the horses might be helpful. Our time might well be limited and I’d rather not be caught on foot in the forest between the mountains leading to our freedom and the dragon’s lair. Especially if we have yet another stolen Provenience with us.”

Semeion nodded and looked to the horses. “Likely a wise precaution, I suppose. Shall we?” As he finished speaking, he gestured to the area where the stairs were located.

As Rhema slid off the back of Shauvry, Semeion took the reigns of the others and secured them just within the cave entrance. Rhema continued to speak as they worked, “Ischarus was as surprised to see me as you seemed to be about not finding me here. I decided to leave shortly after you left this morning. You had gone a bit earlier than normal – no doubt wanting to make sure that everything went according to the schedule. But after you left I reasoned that I had just enough time to walk the distance and return back with the horses before you would need me.”

Semeion teased, “Yeah. And you came up just a minute short!”

Rhema smiled. “True, but while the dragon was in sight I didn’t want to move rapidly and draw unwanted attention. When I realized that I would likely not make it back in time to be concealed by the cave I decided to find a thick spot in the canopy and wait. Once the dragon was lured far enough away so that I was sure it wouldn’t hear the horses, we moved again. Had I not had to be cautious, I would have beaten you back here.”

Semeion replied and briefly hugged her, “Either way, well done and thought out.” He motioned to the back of the cave.

Rhema nodded and moved with speed. “I suppose we should.”

The two began to lightly jog up the stairs. The wide stairs were a bit on the awkward side to climb because they had been carved in a spiral pattern large enough to allow the dragon to come down. There was little doubt that the stairs would be a bit on the narrow side for the large draconic claws; but they were definitely wide for the typical human gate. Even with a pace of jogging Semeion and Rhema found themselves putting two or three feet down for each step. The winding, spiraling ascent seemed to take longer than they hoped that it would.

After more than a few moments of climbing, they could hear the faint sound of a mandolin playing in the distance. They paused for a moment and listened. The singing was well done, although it certainly seemed to come from a sense of nervousness. The songs seemed to be of a calming nature, but the singer sounded as though she were stressed.

The pair paused for a moment and listened closely. When they were sure that there wasn’t any other sound accompanying the mandolin and the singing voice Semeion and Rhema advanced forward again. Within moments they were able to see the dragon’s main chamber ahead of them and they slowed their pace to a walk. They stepped lightly so as to hopefully remain unheard over the playing of the mandolin.

Rhema approached the entrance first and saw the Provenience sitting alone on a simple straw mattress that had been provided by her dragon father for her comfort. In truth, it was Darrok who had provided it, collecting the straw himself and offering it to the dragon father for his daughter’s convenience. The dragon father readily accepted Darrok’s loving work and greedily took the credit as he brought it into his chamber for his Provenience.

The young woman sat on the straw mattress and played, her music suddenly slowing and softening. Rhema and Semeion couldn’t make out the words. For all they knew, the words could have been a simple song of gibberish made up as a child. Of course, it could have been in a language that neither of them understood. The pair entered a short way into the chamber as they took full advantage to the fact that the Provenience sat with her back to them. She was facing the area of the dragon’s perch.

Semeion and Rhema gave each other a questioning glance regarding what the next step should be. Both knew what needed to be done, but somehow this was not what they had anticipated as a beginning. They had expected a challenge or a fight. They had not figured on walking straight into the dragon’s main chamber unchallenged. Of course, normally there was little reason for a great and powerful wyrm like Grixanthrosilithiss to need guards. There were few that could challenge him directly, especially in his lair.

After a few moments of listening to the melody, Semeion spoke. “Time to go, Provenience.” His voice was strong and demanding. As soon as the words left his mouth he realized how silly they sounded as an introductory comment. But then again, Semeion was rather unsure exactly how one would begin a conversation explaining that they had broken into the dragon’s lair, lured Grixanthrosilithiss away, and planned on kidnapping her and forcing her away as well. All this was done against her will, of course.

As she heard the words, the Provenience leapt off of the mattress in shock and spun around. She gripped the mandolin tightly around its neck almost as if she were prepared to use it as a weapon if need be. She stared in amazement as the two before her were not only complete strangers but not even Drakontos! Her eyes locked in a gaze as her mind raced to try and understand the most unusual events of the morning.

Rhema smiled at the coldness of Semeion’s introductory words. Under her breath so that the Provenience could not hear she added, “Now there’s a good way to say hello!”

For a second the air in the main chamber of the dragon’s lair seemed to stand completely still. The Provenience appeared to stop breathing. Rhema drew her lips together in anticipation of a strike against herself and Semeion. Semeion’s hand subconsciously began to slowly creep to the hilt of his rapier before he realized what he was doing and stopped it. At a time where wasting time could not be afforded it felt as though minutes slipped uncontrollably past.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Semeion reached the hidden cave where Rhema should have been waiting for him. However, when he arrived there he found that he was alone. “Rhema?” He called out softly at first. He was used to having to be quiet in case the dragon should get curious about a noise that he heard.

After several panicked moments of being unable to find Rhema, he remembered that the dragon had been lured out of its lair and his volume began to increase. As far as he knew, the Provenience wasn’t much to fear. She should be the only threat remaining in the lair and her hearing would likely not be good enough to hear him calling at this distance.

With this revelation, Semeion called out much more loudly. “Rhema? Where are you?” His voice echoed through the chamber and tunnel leading up the mountain. For nearly a minute there was no reply.

Semeion moved further into the tunnel to take a closer look at the rough carved steps that lead up to the dragon’s main chamber. There wasn’t any evidence that Rhema had passed over them and begun the day’s important task without him. Then again, they were worn from centuries of foot traffic and they were stone after all. Rhema wouldn’t have left much of a trace even if she had gone up them. Making the situation even more complex was Semeion’s lack of training in the department of being able to track a person. As Semeion focused on the steps, he heard a sound calling him back out of his thoughts.

Rhema’s voice shot through the cave and into Semeion’s ears like a warm breeze on a cool autumn day. “Semeion? Semeion, what’s wrong? Your voice is panicked!”

Semeion left the stairs deeper into the tunnel and returned to the cave entrance. As he did, he heard the sounds of heavy breathing and some snorting. Once his eyes had adjusted to the limited amount of light offered at the entrance of the cave he noticed that Rhema had brought Thana, Shauvry, and Abijou to the cave entrance with her.

When Rhema saw Semeion approaching, she smiled and spoke quickly. “I thought the horses might be helpful. Our time might well be limited and I’d rather not be caught on foot in the forest between the mountains leading to our freedom and the dragon’s lair. Especially if we have yet another stolen Provenience with us.”

Semeion nodded and looked to the horses. “Likely a wise precaution, I suppose. Shall we?” As he finished speaking, he gestured to the area where the stairs were located.

As Rhema slid off the back of Shauvry, Semeion took the reigns of the others and secured them just within the cave entrance. Rhema continued to speak as they worked, “Ischarus was as surprised to see me as you seemed to be about not finding me here. I decided to leave shortly after you left this morning. You had gone a bit earlier than normal – no doubt wanting to make sure that everything went according to the schedule. But after you left I reasoned that I had just enough time to walk the distance and return back with the horses before you would need me.”

Semeion teased, “Yeah. And you came up just a minute short!”

Rhema smiled. “True, but while the dragon was in sight I didn’t want to move rapidly and draw unwanted attention. When I realized that I would likely not make it back in time to be concealed by the cave I decided to find a thick spot in the canopy and wait. Once the dragon was lured far enough away so that I was sure it wouldn’t hear the horses, we moved again. Had I not had to be cautious, I would have beaten you back here.”

Semeion replied and briefly hugged her, “Either way, well done and thought out.” He motioned to the back of the cave.

Rhema nodded and moved with speed. “I suppose we should.”

The two began to lightly jog up the stairs. The wide stairs were a bit on the awkward side to climb because they had been carved in a spiral pattern large enough to allow the dragon to come down. There was little doubt that the stairs would be a bit on the narrow side for the large draconic claws; but they were definitely wide for the typical human gate. Even with a pace of jogging Semeion and Rhema found themselves putting two or three feet down for each step. The winding, spiraling ascent seemed to take longer than they hoped that it would.

After more than a few moments of climbing, they could hear the faint sound of a mandolin playing in the distance. They paused for a moment and listened. The singing was well done, although it certainly seemed to come from a sense of nervousness. The songs seemed to be of a calming nature, but the singer sounded as though she were stressed.

The pair paused for a moment and listened closely. When they were sure that there wasn’t any other sound accompanying the mandolin and the singing voice Semeion and Rhema advanced forward again. Within moments they were able to see the dragon’s main chamber ahead of them and they slowed their pace to a walk. They stepped lightly so as to hopefully remain unheard over the playing of the mandolin.

Rhema approached the entrance first and saw the Provenience sitting alone on a simple straw mattress that had been provided by her dragon father for her comfort. In truth, it was Darrok who had provided it, collecting the straw himself and offering it to the dragon father for his daughter’s convenience. The dragon father readily accepted Darrok’s loving work and greedily took the credit as he brought it into his chamber for his Provenience.

The young woman sat on the straw mattress and played, her music suddenly slowing and softening. Rhema and Semeion couldn’t make out the words. For all they knew, the words could have been a simple song of gibberish made up as a child. Of course, it could have been in a language that neither of them understood. The pair entered a short way into the chamber as they took full advantage to the fact that the Provenience sat with her back to them. She was facing the area of the dragon’s perch.

Semeion and Rhema gave each other a questioning glance regarding what the next step should be. Both knew what needed to be done, but somehow this was not what they had anticipated as a beginning. They had expected a challenge or a fight. They had not figured on walking straight into the dragon’s main chamber unchallenged. Of course, normally there was little reason for a great and powerful wyrm like Grixanthrosilithiss to need guards. There were few that could challenge him directly, especially in his lair.

After a few moments of listening to the melody, Semeion spoke. “Time to go, Provenience.” His voice was strong and demanding. As soon as the words left his mouth he realized how silly they sounded as an introductory comment. But then again, Semeion was rather unsure exactly how one would begin a conversation explaining that they had broken into the dragon’s lair, lured Grixanthrosilithiss away, and planned on kidnapping her and forcing her away as well. All this was done against her will, of course.

As she heard the words, the Provenience leapt off of the mattress in shock and spun around. She gripped the mandolin tightly around its neck almost as if she were prepared to use it as a weapon if need be. She stared in amazement as the two before her were not only complete strangers but not even Drakontos! Her eyes locked in a gaze as her mind raced to try and understand the most unusual events of the morning.

Rhema smiled at the coldness of Semeion’s introductory words. Under her breath so that the Provenience could not hear she added, “Now there’s a good way to say hello!”

For a second the air in the main chamber of the dragon’s lair seemed to stand completely still. The Provenience appeared to stop breathing. Rhema drew her lips together in anticipation of a strike against herself and Semeion. Semeion’s hand subconsciously began to slowly creep to the hilt of his rapier before he realized what he was doing and stopped it. At a time where wasting time could not be afforded it felt as though minutes slipped uncontrollably past.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

In truth, only a few seconds slipped by while the Provenience stared back at Semeion and Rhema. Semeion watched as the expression upon the Provenience’s face turned from surprise to confusion to anger. It was a change that he remembered all to well from the first meeting that he had with Charis.

A slow spiteful smile spread across the lips of the Provenience. As Semeion and Rhema prepared for some type of heated parley, the Provenience narrowed her eyes. In a sudden spurt of action the young woman before them sucked in a quick breath and immediately exhaled. Flames spouted from her mouth, breathing a similar type of fire as one might have expected to come from the great red wyrm to which she had mated.

Both Semeion and Rhema sprang out of the way of the dangerous flames, limiting the damage caused to a few minor singes along their legs. Semeion rolled over his shoulder and up onto his knees. From that position he quickly rose to his feet and spoke, extending an open palm towards the Provenience. “Listen to me! We do not come here to kill you or even threaten you. We came here to free you and reunite you with your true father.”

The Provenience laughed as Semeion spoke and Rhema brought herself up to her own feet. “Reunite me with him? I am to be the mother of the race that replaces them!”

Rhema sucked in a huge breath of her own as she began to get a feeling for the severity of brainwashing that the dragon father had been able to accomplish in the months that he had his Drakontos mate isolated in the chamber. Without using any of her mental powers she spoke calmly. “Listen to yourself. Do you care nothing for those people?”

The Provenience saw what had happened in the brief moment that her attack had failed. Rhema had jumped in a position such that to attack her would likely ignite her straw bed in fire. Semeion had jumped far enough in the other direction so that to attack him would imply turning her back onto Rhema. Rather than spew forth another lethal amount of flame the Provenience decided to speak. “Care for them? she hissed as she reacted to Rhema’s words. “Do you not see how they have offended my dragon father? They do not care for him! Why should we care for them? Why should they live on when they so blatantly show disrespect to the one being that is powerful enough to protect them all from the forces in this world?”

Semeion took another step to his right, broadening the gap between himself and his associate. “Protect them? Is that what you call how the dragon father treats the people who live below? Do you not see how he works them to the brink of death?” Suddenly Semeion’s eyes glinted with an idea.

Rhema noticed the sparkle in Semeion’s eyes, but had no clue as to what the sparkle could have meant. She decided to add to Semeion’s words and at the very least force the Provenience to turn and focus on Rhema for a short time. “No master worth serving treats their vassals in such a manner!

The Provenience hissed her verbal venom back at the attacks against her dragon father. “No master should respect anyone who treats their own father with the contempt that they have treated our dragon father!”

Semeion smiled. “You mean like the contempt that you treat your own father?”

The Provenience was spurred into attack by the blatant verbal assault. She sucked a deep breath in and exhaled. This time, Semeion was waiting for it. He tucked into a roll and easily avoided the flame in spite of the fact that the Provenience turned as she followed his movement. Flames constantly licked at his heels, but he managed to stay one step ahead of her breath for as long as she had air to expend. Her attack had allowed him to move to where he wanted to be without making it obvious.

Semeion took two steps back. The Provenience instinctively stepped forward. She felt as though Semeion was retreating out of the range of her breath. What she assumed was weakness was actually part of Semeion’s plan. He had positioned himself before the opening that led out onto the dragon’s perch. As he crept backwards he could feel the cooler winds of this elevation swirling around him. He was slowly leading her out onto the open platform on the side of the mountain.

Rhema still wasn’t sure what Semeion was up to, but she was smart enough to know that Semeion could only retreat so far. He had to be up to something, but she wasn’t quite sure what it could be. She could easily see that he had captivated her attention. The Provenience had given Rhema her back, and Rhema had a clear shot should she need to take it. But the agreement was that the Provenience wouldn’t need to be killed. That couldn’t be the opening that Semeion was hoping to exploit. In any case, Rhema was certain that the Provenience had forgotten that she was a part of this confrontation.

Semeion continued his slow retreat, occasionally shuffling slightly back to his left. The Provenience matched his every move. As Semeion continued his slow retreat he lured her into a slow pursuit. The Provenience could see that he was quickly running out of room and she need not step forward quickly He couldn’t stay out of range forever; and he was quickly narrowing his ability to dodge out of the way of her fiery breath.

Semeion shook his head. “Do you believe that the power to dominate is absolute power, Provenience?”

His mind darted back to several months prior. He had the same conversation with Charis. It was an important step in breaking her spirit. It was a painful step to make, but it was the crux on which her deprogramming began. The pain this line of questioning had caused Charis gave Semeion many restless nights in conversation with Rhema’s father.

The Provenience stopped moving. She had stopped pursuing her prey to think for a moment. “Power is being able to assert your will upon others. Power is the ability to make the agenda, not have it dictated to you.”

Her answer was fair, especially for the preconceptions she brought to her understanding of the world. It was what she knew; it was what the father dragon had taught the villagers through his leadership. He smiled softly as he felt the pain of the response hit home. Charis had responded so similarly once.

Semeion stepped slightly back, hoping to reinforce that she should pursue him. The increasing howl of the wind told him that he was only a matter of a few feet from the edge now. “Then control is the ultimate source of power for you?”

The Provenience matched his movement step for step. She was now within striking distance, but she was not ready to strike. He had intrigued her, and she would hear Semeion’s point. “Get to your point, thief. You know how I would respond.”

She didn’t see that Rhema had followed her out onto the ledge. Rhema was careful to stay precisely at her back. She stepped softly upon the worn stone of the dragon’s perch. She was still trying to guess Semeion’s plan and knew Semeion was running out of both room and time.

Semeion smiled. “If the ability to control is absolute, then I would assert that your father dragon is powerless.”

The Provenience’s eyes grew wide at the verbal assault. “Silence your tongue!” The Provenience’s skin began to take on a red hue as her blood coursed through her body in response to the emotion of anger.

Semeion only smiled more broadly. He shuffled his feet back once more. His heels felt the ground grow softer. The edge was only inches away. The wind howled at his back. “You have put your faith in the wrong power, Provenience. You serve a weak father.”

The Provenience paused for a moment. “What is your game, irr’Drakontos Packkan?” Semeion’s mind quickly translated the draconic insult. It roughly translated to ‘non-Drakontos dog.’

Semeion shuffled back the last few inches. His heels now hung over the edge of the perch. He could feel the wind directly at his back now. The pressure to suck him down the mountain face increased. Semeion spread his arms wide in a gesture of emptiness. “Your dragon father’s kingdom is dust!” A chuckle passed through his lips before he continued. “If the power to control is absolute then the fact that your dragon father controls nothing means that he is powerless!” His smile grew wide into a grand toothy grin as he continued to chuckle.

Rhema noticed that Semeion’s voice took on a uniquely strange tone. He was enjoying this. Semeion was toying with the Provenience. He perched precariously at the brink of death without a single place to turn and he was tempting her to finish him. She stepped forward once more. This movement was more out of curiosity to discover Semeion’s game than to keep pace with the Provenience.

The Provenience had heard enough. “I do not understand your game, but I have had enough of it! Escape my wrath no more!” She sucked down a deep breath. As she did so, her eyes blinked shut for a split second. Semeion’s glance darted to Rhema, whom he could see just over the Provenience’s shoulder. His eyes seemed to be transferring the game to her. He seemed to be giving her control, almost as if he was saying goodbye.

The Provenience exhaled. Red and yellow flames burst forth out of her mouth. The flame surged forward over the ledge where Semeion stood. The flames burned for several seconds before the Provenience risked running out of breath. When she stopped breathing the flames died down. Semeion was no longer there. He was nowhere on the dragon’s perch at all.

The Provenience surged to the lip of the perch to find Semeion. As she moved, Rhema understood. Semeion had lured her out her to the ledge for only one reason. Semeion’s game was now hers to play. “Look down upon the village, Provenience.” Rhema’s voice was now full of her mental power geared towards mind control. She would take no chances now. Semeion had sacrificed his life for this moment to occur.

Rhema’s voice gripped the Provenience hard and without thinking twice the Provenience looked upon the empty village. “It’s … it’s … empty.” Her voice faded into disbelief.

Rhema smiled as she felt the Provenience slip under her suggestive control. “Empty indeed. So what of your dragon father’s power now? As Semeion said, if your dragon father cannot even control them and keep them to stay to do the work at hand, how powerful can he really be?”

The Provenience spun to face Rhema. “No. That cannot be. But, how?” Her hand reached up to rub over her mouth for a second.

Rhema mustered as friendly an expression as she could bring to her face. She noticed the empty ledge behind the Provenience and her mind screamed at her to run for Semeion. Yet this work was too important. “We gave them freedom. We allowed them to break free of control so that they could control their own actions from now on.”

The Provenience’s face went expressionless. The words were foreign to her. The concept was foreign to her. “Nobody controls the villagers?”

Rhema smiled. Semeion’s gamble had paid off.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
In truth, only a few seconds slipped by while the Provenience stared back at Semeion and Rhema. Semeion watched as the expression upon the Provenience’s face turned from surprise to confusion to anger. It was a change that he remembered all to well from the first meeting that he had with Charis.

A slow spiteful smile spread across the lips of the Provenience. As Semeion and Rhema prepared for some type of heated parley, the Provenience narrowed her eyes. In a sudden spurt of action the young woman before them sucked in a quick breath and immediately exhaled. Flames spouted from her mouth, breathing a similar type of fire as one might have expected to come from the great red wyrm to which she had mated.

Both Semeion and Rhema sprang out of the way of the dangerous flames, limiting the damage caused to a few minor singes along their legs. Semeion rolled over his shoulder and up onto his knees. From that position he quickly rose to his feet and spoke, extending an open palm towards the Provenience. “Listen to me! We do not come here to kill you or even threaten you. We came here to free you and reunite you with your true father.”

The Provenience laughed as Semeion spoke and Rhema brought herself up to her own feet. “Reunite me with him? I am to be the mother of the race that replaces them!”

Rhema sucked in a huge breath of her own as she began to get a feeling for the severity of brainwashing that the dragon father had been able to accomplish in the months that he had his Drakontos mate isolated in the chamber. Without using any of her mental powers she spoke calmly. “Listen to yourself. Do you care nothing for those people?”

The Provenience saw what had happened in the brief moment that her attack had failed. Rhema had jumped in a position such that to attack her would likely ignite her straw bed in fire. Semeion had jumped far enough in the other direction so that to attack him would imply turning her back onto Rhema. Rather than spew forth another lethal amount of flame the Provenience decided to speak. “Care for them? she hissed as she reacted to Rhema’s words. “Do you not see how they have offended my dragon father? They do not care for him! Why should we care for them? Why should they live on when they so blatantly show disrespect to the one being that is powerful enough to protect them all from the forces in this world?”

Semeion took another step to his right, broadening the gap between himself and his associate. “Protect them? Is that what you call how the dragon father treats the people who live below? Do you not see how he works them to the brink of death?” Suddenly Semeion’s eyes glinted with an idea.

Rhema noticed the sparkle in Semeion’s eyes, but had no clue as to what the sparkle could have meant. She decided to add to Semeion’s words and at the very least force the Provenience to turn and focus on Rhema for a short time. “No master worth serving treats their vassals in such a manner!

The Provenience hissed her verbal venom back at the attacks against her dragon father. “No master should respect anyone who treats their own father with the contempt that they have treated our dragon father!”

Semeion smiled. “You mean like the contempt that you treat your own father?”

The Provenience was spurred into attack by the blatant verbal assault. She sucked a deep breath in and exhaled. This time, Semeion was waiting for it. He tucked into a roll and easily avoided the flame in spite of the fact that the Provenience turned as she followed his movement. Flames constantly licked at his heels, but he managed to stay one step ahead of her breath for as long as she had air to expend. Her attack had allowed him to move to where he wanted to be without making it obvious.

Semeion took two steps back. The Provenience instinctively stepped forward. She felt as though Semeion was retreating out of the range of her breath. What she assumed was weakness was actually part of Semeion’s plan. He had positioned himself before the opening that led out onto the dragon’s perch. As he crept backwards he could feel the cooler winds of this elevation swirling around him. He was slowly leading her out onto the open platform on the side of the mountain.

Rhema still wasn’t sure what Semeion was up to, but she was smart enough to know that Semeion could only retreat so far. He had to be up to something, but she wasn’t quite sure what it could be. She could easily see that he had captivated her attention. The Provenience had given Rhema her back, and Rhema had a clear shot should she need to take it. But the agreement was that the Provenience wouldn’t need to be killed. That couldn’t be the opening that Semeion was hoping to exploit. In any case, Rhema was certain that the Provenience had forgotten that she was a part of this confrontation.

Semeion continued his slow retreat, occasionally shuffling slightly back to his left. The Provenience matched his every move. As Semeion continued his slow retreat he lured her into a slow pursuit. The Provenience could see that he was quickly running out of room and she need not step forward quickly He couldn’t stay out of range forever; and he was quickly narrowing his ability to dodge out of the way of her fiery breath.

Semeion shook his head. “Do you believe that the power to dominate is absolute power, Provenience?”

His mind darted back to several months prior. He had the same conversation with Charis. It was an important step in breaking her spirit. It was a painful step to make, but it was the crux on which her deprogramming began. The pain this line of questioning had caused Charis gave Semeion many restless nights in conversation with Rhema’s father.

The Provenience stopped moving. She had stopped pursuing her prey to think for a moment. “Power is being able to assert your will upon others. Power is the ability to make the agenda, not have it dictated to you.”

Her answer was fair, especially for the preconceptions she brought to her understanding of the world. It was what she knew; it was what the father dragon had taught the villagers through his leadership. He smiled softly as he felt the pain of the response hit home. Charis had responded so similarly once.

Semeion stepped slightly back, hoping to reinforce that she should pursue him. The increasing howl of the wind told him that he was only a matter of a few feet from the edge now. “Then control is the ultimate source of power for you?”

The Provenience matched his movement step for step. She was now within striking distance, but she was not ready to strike. He had intrigued her, and she would hear Semeion’s point. “Get to your point, thief. You know how I would respond.”

She didn’t see that Rhema had followed her out onto the ledge. Rhema was careful to stay precisely at her back. She stepped softly upon the worn stone of the dragon’s perch. She was still trying to guess Semeion’s plan and knew Semeion was running out of both room and time.

Semeion smiled. “If the ability to control is absolute, then I would assert that your father dragon is powerless.”

The Provenience’s eyes grew wide at the verbal assault. “Silence your tongue!” The Provenience’s skin began to take on a red hue as her blood coursed through her body in response to the emotion of anger.

Semeion only smiled more broadly. He shuffled his feet back once more. His heels felt the ground grow softer. The edge was only inches away. The wind howled at his back. “You have put your faith in the wrong power, Provenience. You serve a weak father.”

The Provenience paused for a moment. “What is your game, irr’Drakontos Packkan?” Semeion’s mind quickly translated the draconic insult. It roughly translated to ‘non-Drakontos dog.’

Semeion shuffled back the last few inches. His heels now hung over the edge of the perch. He could feel the wind directly at his back now. The pressure to suck him down the mountain face increased. Semeion spread his arms wide in a gesture of emptiness. “Your dragon father’s kingdom is dust!” A chuckle passed through his lips before he continued. “If the power to control is absolute then the fact that your dragon father controls nothing means that he is powerless!” His smile grew wide into a grand toothy grin as he continued to chuckle.

Rhema noticed that Semeion’s voice took on a uniquely strange tone. He was enjoying this. Semeion was toying with the Provenience. He perched precariously at the brink of death without a single place to turn and he was tempting her to finish him. She stepped forward once more. This movement was more out of curiosity to discover Semeion’s game than to keep pace with the Provenience.

The Provenience had heard enough. “I do not understand your game, but I have had enough of it! Escape my wrath no more!” She sucked down a deep breath. As she did so, her eyes blinked shut for a split second. Semeion’s glance darted to Rhema, whom he could see just over the Provenience’s shoulder. His eyes seemed to be transferring the game to her. He seemed to be giving her control, almost as if he was saying goodbye.

The Provenience exhaled. Red and yellow flames burst forth out of her mouth. The flame surged forward over the ledge where Semeion stood. The flames burned for several seconds before the Provenience risked running out of breath. When she stopped breathing the flames died down. Semeion was no longer there. He was nowhere on the dragon’s perch at all.

The Provenience surged to the lip of the perch to find Semeion. As she moved, Rhema understood. Semeion had lured her out her to the ledge for only one reason. Semeion’s game was now hers to play. “Look down upon the village, Provenience.” Rhema’s voice was now full of her mental power geared towards mind control. She would take no chances now. Semeion had sacrificed his life for this moment to occur.

Rhema’s voice gripped the Provenience hard and without thinking twice the Provenience looked upon the empty village. “It’s … it’s … empty.” Her voice faded into disbelief.

Rhema smiled as she felt the Provenience slip under her suggestive control. “Empty indeed. So what of your dragon father’s power now? As Semeion said, if your dragon father cannot even control them and keep them to stay to do the work at hand, how powerful can he really be?”

The Provenience spun to face Rhema. “No. That cannot be. But, how?” Her hand reached up to rub over her mouth for a second.

Rhema mustered as friendly an expression as she could bring to her face. She noticed the empty ledge behind the Provenience and her mind screamed at her to run for Semeion. Yet this work was too important. “We gave them freedom. We allowed them to break free of control so that they could control their own actions from now on.”

The Provenience’s face went expressionless. The words were foreign to her. The concept was foreign to her. “Nobody controls the villagers?”

Rhema smiled. Semeion’s gamble had paid off.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

Rhema looked deep into the Provenience’s eyes. She knew that the father dragon’s mate was still under her suggestive control. Of course, this also meant that she now bore the responsibility for using that gift properly. The Provenience would need to be protected and brought to the supply cave before Rhema’s power wore off. Time was of the utmost essence.

She continued the conversation. “Nobody, Provenience. They are acting under their free will. They desired to leave the oppression of your dragon father. They gathered up their supplies and left – on their own accord. Your dragon father’s power of control over them is broken forever.”

The Provenience struggled to grasp this concept and her face disclosed this fact. Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion and the pupils of her eyes focused upon Rhema as if she was trying to bore a hole through her skull. “Then you control them now. You are more powerful than my dragon father.”

Rhema smiled, her eyes once more darting to the ledge. For an instant she looked as if she were about to cry when she thought about how important Semeion had been to the plan. It had been his magic that had sprang Druff from the cage and allowed Druff to convince the townsfolk of their plan. He had been the one to convince Druff to help in the first place. Rhema’s eyes slowly returned to the Provenience’s glance. “No. We are not more powerful than your dragon father. Should your dragon father return and find us here I would surely die and in all likelihood you would die with me. Your dragon father is indeed more powerful than I. Yet the idea of freedom is even more powerful than your dragon father. Control is powerful, but freedom is even more so.”

Rhema stepped back toward the dragon’s main chamber. The Provenience instinctively followed her back into the protected area of the lair. “Wait! You cannot leave me behind. If you are more powerful than my dragon father I would follow you.”

Rhema turned her back to the Provenience and a slight smile passed across her lips. “Gather up your things. Only take that which you can sling over your shoulder or put in a sack. We will ride out of here. Anything you leave behind will most likely be destroyed by your dragon father’s rage.”

The Provenience nodded. She quickly picked up her mandolin and slung it across her shoulders. She grabbed a traveling cloak that was well tattered and worn. She picked up a few other items of a much more personal matter: a mirror, a handcrafted comb, a skin for carrying water, and a blanket. All but the mandolin she placed in the center of the blanket and then rolled the blanket such that the items could not fall out.

While the Provenience packed, Rhema took a moment and ran to the edge of the dragon’s perch. She stood close to the edge and looked down. The drop was severe for the first twenty or thirty feet, but there were a few trees growing up from below. Leaves on the trees obscured her vision of the rock face below. There was no way of telling what had happened to Semeion. Obviously, he had planned on drawing the Provenience to the ledge so she could look down upon the empty village.

Rhema’s eyes searched the rock below her for any clue as to what had happened. As she searched, she talked to herself. “His magic was not strong enough to handle teleportation,” she expressed out loud in an attempt to force herself to face reality and squash the painful amount of hope that clung to this mountain face. “Either he burned and fell or he just fell. In any case, he’s gone now.” A small tear trickled down her face.

Rhema’s mourning was interrupted by the Provenience’s voice from behind. “I am ready to follow you to this thing you call freedom.” Her voice was cold and detached.

When Rhema turned she saw that the Provenience was standing with her own eyes focused upon the ledge. Rhema knew that the Provenience was still under her telepathic persuasion and thus susceptible to her own mental state. “I am sorry that I killed him. At the time he was an intruder. He was goading me into attack.”

Rhema crossed the dragon’s perch and smiled coolly in her direction. She fought back the anger boiling inside at the loss of one of her friends and refused to let it cloud the urgency of thought needed to get them to safety. “We must go now. We can talk along the way.”

Rhema lifted the blanket roll up from the straw mattress and waited for the Provenience to follow. The Provenience began to object to Rhema carrying her blanket, but Rhema shook her head and said, “This is what life is like free from control, Provenience. I do not help you because you order me to or because you have the power to kill me. I choose to help you.” Her words were laced with the bitterness still coming from the loss of Semeion.

The Provenience heard the sharp edge in her voice and re-coiled a step. “I did not understand that you were so powerful. I thought only my own dragon father was that powerful. I was blinded by my dragon father’s claims of dominance and his grand plans.” She was still attempting to provide an explanation for her actions.

Rhema smiled. The Provenience’s words came so easily on account of the control Rhema still exercised over the Provenience. “Yes, and unless we hurry you will soon be under that control again. Semeion allowed you to kill him so that you could be saved by seeing that your dragon father had lost control. That must be enough for now.”

Rhema moved to the tunnel that led to the secret cave below. She descended the stairs as quickly as she and Semeion had ascended them. The Provenience followed her pace for pace. Before too long, they had reached the spot where the three horses had remained tied.

Rhema quickly approached Shauvry and secured the Provenience’s blanket roll to Shauvry’s saddle. Once that task was completed Rhema turned and pointed to Elistra. There were tears streaming down her face now. Seeing Thana had brought the emotion of loss and anger irrevocably to the surface.

Pointing to Elistra, Rhema spoke sharply through her pain. “Ride the bigger horse. My friend’s horse will return to safety without a rider upon its back.”

The Provenience nodded, knowing that there was little that she could do about the pain now. She was not aware of the fact that Rhema still had a telepathic bond to her, but through this bond she was able to feel a sense of Rhema’s pain. Her face frowned as she realized that the pain had been brought onto Rhema by her own hand. Under her breath she muttered, “I was only defending my home and my life as I saw it.”

Rhema backed Shauvry up and turned the horse around inside the cave. She loosened the reigns holding Thana in place and held her in a position to follow. She looked at the Provenience sitting atop Ischarus’ horse. “Ride beside me, Provenience. The path will be wide enough for us to ride together.”

The Provenience nodded and pulled in line. Rhema spurred Shauvry into action with Thana in tow. Elistra quickly followed out of instinct. Together they left the now abandoned draconic lair behind them. The dragon hadn’t been yet defeated; but the village had been liberated. It was their biggest success yet. With regard to Semeion it was also their greatest failure as well.

Rhema cursed Semeion under his breath. The pain festered inside of her with each surge of the horse beneath her. After all, it didn’t need to happen that way. The Provenience could have been subdued without the loss of life. It might have taken longer, but it could have worked.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
Rhema looked deep into the Provenience’s eyes. She knew that the father dragon’s mate was still under her suggestive control. Of course, this also meant that she now bore the responsibility for using that gift properly. The Provenience would need to be protected and brought to the supply cave before Rhema’s power wore off. Time was of the utmost essence.

She continued the conversation. “Nobody, Provenience. They are acting under their free will. They desired to leave the oppression of your dragon father. They gathered up their supplies and left – on their own accord. Your dragon father’s power of control over them is broken forever.”

The Provenience struggled to grasp this concept and her face disclosed this fact. Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion and the pupils of her eyes focused upon Rhema as if she was trying to bore a hole through her skull. “Then you control them now. You are more powerful than my dragon father.”

Rhema smiled, her eyes once more darting to the ledge. For an instant she looked as if she were about to cry when she thought about how important Semeion had been to the plan. It had been his magic that had sprang Druff from the cage and allowed Druff to convince the townsfolk of their plan. He had been the one to convince Druff to help in the first place. Rhema’s eyes slowly returned to the Provenience’s glance. “No. We are not more powerful than your dragon father. Should your dragon father return and find us here I would surely die and in all likelihood you would die with me. Your dragon father is indeed more powerful than I. Yet the idea of freedom is even more powerful than your dragon father. Control is powerful, but freedom is even more so.”

Rhema stepped back toward the dragon’s main chamber. The Provenience instinctively followed her back into the protected area of the lair. “Wait! You cannot leave me behind. If you are more powerful than my dragon father I would follow you.”

Rhema turned her back to the Provenience and a slight smile passed across her lips. “Gather up your things. Only take that which you can sling over your shoulder or put in a sack. We will ride out of here. Anything you leave behind will most likely be destroyed by your dragon father’s rage.”

The Provenience nodded. She quickly picked up her mandolin and slung it across her shoulders. She grabbed a traveling cloak that was well tattered and worn. She picked up a few other items of a much more personal matter: a mirror, a handcrafted comb, a skin for carrying water, and a blanket. All but the mandolin she placed in the center of the blanket and then rolled the blanket such that the items could not fall out.

While the Provenience packed, Rhema took a moment and ran to the edge of the dragon’s perch. She stood close to the edge and looked down. The drop was severe for the first twenty or thirty feet, but there were a few trees growing up from below. Leaves on the trees obscured her vision of the rock face below. There was no way of telling what had happened to Semeion. Obviously, he had planned on drawing the Provenience to the ledge so she could look down upon the empty village.

Rhema’s eyes searched the rock below her for any clue as to what had happened. As she searched, she talked to herself. “His magic was not strong enough to handle teleportation,” she expressed out loud in an attempt to force herself to face reality and squash the painful amount of hope that clung to this mountain face. “Either he burned and fell or he just fell. In any case, he’s gone now.” A small tear trickled down her face.

Rhema’s mourning was interrupted by the Provenience’s voice from behind. “I am ready to follow you to this thing you call freedom.” Her voice was cold and detached.

When Rhema turned she saw that the Provenience was standing with her own eyes focused upon the ledge. Rhema knew that the Provenience was still under her telepathic persuasion and thus susceptible to her own mental state. “I am sorry that I killed him. At the time he was an intruder. He was goading me into attack.”

Rhema crossed the dragon’s perch and smiled coolly in her direction. She fought back the anger boiling inside at the loss of one of her friends and refused to let it cloud the urgency of thought needed to get them to safety. “We must go now. We can talk along the way.”

Rhema lifted the blanket roll up from the straw mattress and waited for the Provenience to follow. The Provenience began to object to Rhema carrying her blanket, but Rhema shook her head and said, “This is what life is like free from control, Provenience. I do not help you because you order me to or because you have the power to kill me. I choose to help you.” Her words were laced with the bitterness still coming from the loss of Semeion.

The Provenience heard the sharp edge in her voice and re-coiled a step. “I did not understand that you were so powerful. I thought only my own dragon father was that powerful. I was blinded by my dragon father’s claims of dominance and his grand plans.” She was still attempting to provide an explanation for her actions.

Rhema smiled. The Provenience’s words came so easily on account of the control Rhema still exercised over the Provenience. “Yes, and unless we hurry you will soon be under that control again. Semeion allowed you to kill him so that you could be saved by seeing that your dragon father had lost control. That must be enough for now.”

Rhema moved to the tunnel that led to the secret cave below. She descended the stairs as quickly as she and Semeion had ascended them. The Provenience followed her pace for pace. Before too long, they had reached the spot where the three horses had remained tied.

Rhema quickly approached Shauvry and secured the Provenience’s blanket roll to Shauvry’s saddle. Once that task was completed Rhema turned and pointed to Elistra. There were tears streaming down her face now. Seeing Thana had brought the emotion of loss and anger irrevocably to the surface.

Pointing to Elistra, Rhema spoke sharply through her pain. “Ride the bigger horse. My friend’s horse will return to safety without a rider upon its back.”

The Provenience nodded, knowing that there was little that she could do about the pain now. She was not aware of the fact that Rhema still had a telepathic bond to her, but through this bond she was able to feel a sense of Rhema’s pain. Her face frowned as she realized that the pain had been brought onto Rhema by her own hand. Under her breath she muttered, “I was only defending my home and my life as I saw it.”

Rhema backed Shauvry up and turned the horse around inside the cave. She loosened the reigns holding Thana in place and held her in a position to follow. She looked at the Provenience sitting atop Ischarus’ horse. “Ride beside me, Provenience. The path will be wide enough for us to ride together.”

The Provenience nodded and pulled in line. Rhema spurred Shauvry into action with Thana in tow. Elistra quickly followed out of instinct. Together they left the now abandoned draconic lair behind them. The dragon hadn’t been yet defeated; but the village had been liberated. It was their biggest success yet. With regard to Semeion it was also their greatest failure as well.

Rhema cursed Semeion under his breath. The pain festered inside of her with each surge of the horse beneath her. After all, it didn’t need to happen that way. The Provenience could have been subdued without the loss of life. It might have taken longer, but it could have worked.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

While Semeion and Rhema had climbed the stairs to enter the dragon’s main chamber, the exodus from the village was already into motion. Few retrieved anything out of their dwellings knowing that there was little they would need beyond what they already carried. They would be waiting for some time under the mountains for the dragon’s wrath to burn itself out, anyway. The main priority was to get the caves. They had trusted Charis and her friends thus far; it only made sense to think that they would trust them for future protection.

Over the past few days Semeion had written out a few copies of the spell that he had earlier used to give Druff a bit of free time out from the cage in the confines of the planning session. Once Semeion had begun shouting for the villagers to run, inside his cage Druff quickly unrolled one of the parchments. He wasn’t a natural arcanist, but his innate magical abilities did allow him the capacity to somewhat understand the process of how magic happened. He couldn’t read the arcane writing, but he reached back into his mind to hearing the words that Semeion had spoken to him earlier. Not only had Semeion used the words on the day that he had given him free time, but Semeion had also taught him the words when the young mage delivered the parchments to Druff.

Druff looked at the black ink on the parchment before him. He could make out the two arcane words easily enough. In truth he couldn’t read the words, but he could tell that there were two words present. The gap between the letters was a clear enough indication. Druff spoke the words from memory. “Soo-ah Skree-tahk”

The words on the parchment before him began to glow with a magical green aura. The paper began to hiss, almost as it the parchment contained the sap of a tree that was being boiled out by an open flame. The parchment warmed after only a few seconds and then erupted in an explosion. Druff looked down where the parchment had once rested upon the floor of cage. There was a small black outline revealing the location of the parchment. His body and clothing were dusted with a thin layer of black powder.

Xando approached the cage as the rest of the villagers began to amass at the edge of the woods. He had initially run to the woods to inspire the villagers to move forward. Once they were in motion he had circled back to pick up Druff. “Please tell me that was not your only copy, Druff.” Xando’s face demonstrated that he was amused by the reaction of the parchment yet concerned about Druff’s inability to be an effective master of the arcane inscription.

Druff returned Xando’s expression with a smile of his own. “Thankfully, no. Semeion gave me several copies. He assumed that it would take me more than a single try to get the arcane words correct.”

Xando looked into the cage, careful not to get too close in case another parchment reacted to Druff’s command in a similar manner as the first. Two other men flanked him and looked inside patiently. Xando slightly lifted his right hand from his side, holding their position beside him. Xando continued the conversation between himself and Druff. “I did not think you were able to master the arcane magic of our dragon father.”

Druff replied honestly, “I cannot. In fact, this is not my arcane power that I am trying to master. Instead, this is Semeion’s latent magical expression that I am trying to harness. That is part of the difficulty. I must harness Semeion’s energy and control it. Obviously I did not do that quite so well on the last attempt.” Druff smiled once more.

Xando returned to smile. “Obviously,” he added.

Druff had another parchment before him and he was ready to try again. Xando and the men beside him stepped back to allow Druff the opportunity while not enabling themselves to be caught in the effect of any possible magical backlash. “Su-ah Skrie-tok.”

This time Druff smiled, realizing he had spoken the words exactly as Semeion had told him. As happened the last time, the words glowed with a green magical aura. However, the sound of the boiling sap was not present within this parchment. Instead the words glowed with an increasing intensity for a few seconds before bursting into radiant light directed upon Druff.

For an instant Druff was enraptured in a thin veil of the green light. His body reduced to a fraction of his normal height and weight. When he opened his eyes he could see that the spell had worked. He bent over to pick up the piece of parchment, but Xando approached the cage and addressed him. “Let me, Druff. You get yourself out of the cage while the spell still holds. These two men have volunteered to carry you to the mountains. We’ll make better time with them carrying your burden for you than if you traverse the ground yourself.”

Druff was not pleased at the thought of depending upon the villagers and his face showed it. However, he could not refuse to acknowledge the wisdom of Xando’s words, either. With a quick sigh and a nod to the men Druff slipped out of the cage. The smaller of the men stepped forward and offered his back. Druff sat down upon the edge of the cage and wrapped his small arms around the villager’s neck. At his reduced size, the grip was difficult to maintain. However, this would allow the villager to carry Druff in the easiest manner. Once he grew back in size this position would be easier to maintain.

The smaller villager spoke as Druff climbed upon his back. “I’ve got charge of you until you gain back your old size. Then I get to hand you off.”

Druff smiled. The other villager was taller and by default a bit stronger. Their plan was simple but effective. “Ready when you are.” His assertion was to nobody in particular and perhaps not even necessary.

Xando gathered up the parchment that Druff had successfully used to cast the spell. Before he rolled it into a tube he noticed that the parchment was now blank. He nodded a few times and stuck out his lower lip in thought. Turning around and hearing Druff speak, he further added, “Let’s go, men. We’ve got a decent journey and not much time to make it in.”

They nodded in reply and Xando walked briskly to the edge of the woods where the villagers were gathering. He called out loudly to the villagers as he approached. “Gather by family for a count!”

The villagers immediately responded to Xando’s command. There would be no time for a search should anyone go missing. The count would only take a minute but save them from hours of worrying later on. Xando pointed to one side of the people and the villager who had been designated to carry Druff once his size returned headed off to count from that end. Xando began the count from his own end.

The two counters met about halfway and exchanged totals. Xando smiled when he realized that the total was correct. He stepped through the crowd of people and into the forest behind. As he moved, he spoke one last command to the people. “We travel in silence from here on out. We don’t know how long our dragon father will be captivated by our friends. If we move quietly we will not only move more quickly but we’ll also help avoid detection. I know the way, so you will follow me. Erik and Degrahss will carry Druff at the back of the caravan.”

Xando didn’t wait for a reply. He didn’t expect one to come. The villagers were prepared to follow his orders – even the children. They would not speak again until they had reached the safety of the caves. Of course, that assumed they even got that far. Regardless of their success or failure they were indeed long gone before Semeion was forced from the dragon perch above. There was nobody left on the ground below to witness his sacrifice for the sake of the Provenience.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
While Semeion and Rhema had climbed the stairs to enter the dragon’s main chamber, the exodus from the village was already into motion. Few retrieved anything out of their dwellings knowing that there was little they would need beyond what they already carried. They would be waiting for some time under the mountains for the dragon’s wrath to burn itself out, anyway. The main priority was to get the caves. They had trusted Charis and her friends thus far; it only made sense to think that they would trust them for future protection.

Over the past few days Semeion had written out a few copies of the spell that he had earlier used to give Druff a bit of free time out from the cage in the confines of the planning session. Once Semeion had begun shouting for the villagers to run, inside his cage Druff quickly unrolled one of the parchments. He wasn’t a natural arcanist, but his innate magical abilities did allow him the capacity to somewhat understand the process of how magic happened. He couldn’t read the arcane writing, but he reached back into his mind to hearing the words that Semeion had spoken to him earlier. Not only had Semeion used the words on the day that he had given him free time, but Semeion had also taught him the words when the young mage delivered the parchments to Druff.

Druff looked at the black ink on the parchment before him. He could make out the two arcane words easily enough. In truth he couldn’t read the words, but he could tell that there were two words present. The gap between the letters was a clear enough indication. Druff spoke the words from memory. “Soo-ah Skree-tahk”

The words on the parchment before him began to glow with a magical green aura. The paper began to hiss, almost as it the parchment contained the sap of a tree that was being boiled out by an open flame. The parchment warmed after only a few seconds and then erupted in an explosion. Druff looked down where the parchment had once rested upon the floor of cage. There was a small black outline revealing the location of the parchment. His body and clothing were dusted with a thin layer of black powder.

Xando approached the cage as the rest of the villagers began to amass at the edge of the woods. He had initially run to the woods to inspire the villagers to move forward. Once they were in motion he had circled back to pick up Druff. “Please tell me that was not your only copy, Druff.” Xando’s face demonstrated that he was amused by the reaction of the parchment yet concerned about Druff’s inability to be an effective master of the arcane inscription.

Druff returned Xando’s expression with a smile of his own. “Thankfully, no. Semeion gave me several copies. He assumed that it would take me more than a single try to get the arcane words correct.”

Xando looked into the cage, careful not to get too close in case another parchment reacted to Druff’s command in a similar manner as the first. Two other men flanked him and looked inside patiently. Xando slightly lifted his right hand from his side, holding their position beside him. Xando continued the conversation between himself and Druff. “I did not think you were able to master the arcane magic of our dragon father.”

Druff replied honestly, “I cannot. In fact, this is not my arcane power that I am trying to master. Instead, this is Semeion’s latent magical expression that I am trying to harness. That is part of the difficulty. I must harness Semeion’s energy and control it. Obviously I did not do that quite so well on the last attempt.” Druff smiled once more.

Xando returned to smile. “Obviously,” he added.

Druff had another parchment before him and he was ready to try again. Xando and the men beside him stepped back to allow Druff the opportunity while not enabling themselves to be caught in the effect of any possible magical backlash. “Su-ah Skrie-tok.”

This time Druff smiled, realizing he had spoken the words exactly as Semeion had told him. As happened the last time, the words glowed with a green magical aura. However, the sound of the boiling sap was not present within this parchment. Instead the words glowed with an increasing intensity for a few seconds before bursting into radiant light directed upon Druff.

For an instant Druff was enraptured in a thin veil of the green light. His body reduced to a fraction of his normal height and weight. When he opened his eyes he could see that the spell had worked. He bent over to pick up the piece of parchment, but Xando approached the cage and addressed him. “Let me, Druff. You get yourself out of the cage while the spell still holds. These two men have volunteered to carry you to the mountains. We’ll make better time with them carrying your burden for you than if you traverse the ground yourself.”

Druff was not pleased at the thought of depending upon the villagers and his face showed it. However, he could not refuse to acknowledge the wisdom of Xando’s words, either. With a quick sigh and a nod to the men Druff slipped out of the cage. The smaller of the men stepped forward and offered his back. Druff sat down upon the edge of the cage and wrapped his small arms around the villager’s neck. At his reduced size, the grip was difficult to maintain. However, this would allow the villager to carry Druff in the easiest manner. Once he grew back in size this position would be easier to maintain.

The smaller villager spoke as Druff climbed upon his back. “I’ve got charge of you until you gain back your old size. Then I get to hand you off.”

Druff smiled. The other villager was taller and by default a bit stronger. Their plan was simple but effective. “Ready when you are.” His assertion was to nobody in particular and perhaps not even necessary.

Xando gathered up the parchment that Druff had successfully used to cast the spell. Before he rolled it into a tube he noticed that the parchment was now blank. He nodded a few times and stuck out his lower lip in thought. Turning around and hearing Druff speak, he further added, “Let’s go, men. We’ve got a decent journey and not much time to make it in.”

They nodded in reply and Xando walked briskly to the edge of the woods where the villagers were gathering. He called out loudly to the villagers as he approached. “Gather by family for a count!”

The villagers immediately responded to Xando’s command. There would be no time for a search should anyone go missing. The count would only take a minute but save them from hours of worrying later on. Xando pointed to one side of the people and the villager who had been designated to carry Druff once his size returned headed off to count from that end. Xando began the count from his own end.

The two counters met about halfway and exchanged totals. Xando smiled when he realized that the total was correct. He stepped through the crowd of people and into the forest behind. As he moved, he spoke one last command to the people. “We travel in silence from here on out. We don’t know how long our dragon father will be captivated by our friends. If we move quietly we will not only move more quickly but we’ll also help avoid detection. I know the way, so you will follow me. Erik and Degrahss will carry Druff at the back of the caravan.”

Xando didn’t wait for a reply. He didn’t expect one to come. The villagers were prepared to follow his orders – even the children. They would not speak again until they had reached the safety of the caves. Of course, that assumed they even got that far. Regardless of their success or failure they were indeed long gone before Semeion was forced from the dragon perch above. There was nobody left on the ground below to witness his sacrifice for the sake of the Provenience.
[/Sblock]

 

[Nonlethal Force]

While the exodus was occurring and while Rhema and Semeion were climbing the long steps up to the dragon’s lair, the light-gray figure clutched the large ruby as he slowly descended to the ground and the forest that would protect him. The red wyrm had already made several passes at the figure, but each of them missed by narrow margins. There could be no doubt that the dragon had a greater speed, but the light-gray figure possessed a sleek sense of timing that had served him well thus far.

The light-gray figure slowed his approach to the treetops to allow the dragon one great pass before immersing himself into the cover. Grixanthrosilithiss saw his opportunity present itself and as he made a final turn he leveled off just above the tallest leaves of the forest. The wyrm flew in fast and hard, its leathery wings beating hard against the air. As he flew over the trees the thin branches at the top of the trees surged upward behind him as the breeze from his quick passing pulled them into the near vacuum that followed his presence.

The dragon knew that the light-gray figure would not make the tree line before it could be intercepted. Grixanthrosilithiss was no slouch in regards to the presence of the ghost, either. Time and time again the dragon had snapped at the ghost’s body with his magical fangs but grasped towards the gemstone with its claws as it sailed by. This approach would be no different. In preparation for the attack the dragon parted his lips on approach and viciously snapped its jaws together in a mock bite of intimidation.

The large dragon surged forward. At the last moment, the light-gray figure surged straight upward and above the dragon. Grixanthrosilithiss had not anticipated this maneuver. His fangs narrowly missed the ghostly figure’s feet. The wyrm thought about rolling over to allow him to attack upward with his claws. Yet the beast also knew that to do so would risk crashing into the treetops. The natural aerodynamics that lifted him into the air would only serve to assist gravity and pull him into the trees should he roll over this close to the foliage. Grixanthrosilithiss roared in anger as he sailed harmlessly past his stolen gemstone. The beast curved his neck in order to look behind him and watched the ghostly figure descend into the forest unharmed.

Once the figure knew the dragon could not interfere, he relinquished his ability to hold onto the stone with a smile upon his face. It was time to allow gravity to work. Without releasing his fingers, the dark ruby fell unhindered from his grasp and down into the forest canopy. Now that the ghostly figure was no longer bound by physical laws, the ghost was able to follow the stone easily through the maze of branches toward the ground. While the gemstone ricocheted off of countless branches the ghost merely passed through them until he reached the ground. Once the gemstone had come to rest upon the soft ground below the trees the light-gray figure reconstituted his ability to grasp the stone and he bent down to pick it up.

By this time the dragon had managed to loop around and come to a hovering position where he had seen the gemstone disappear. Grixanthrosilithiss sucked in a large breath of air and prepared to usher forth a great display of his most impressive draconic ability. As he exhaled, a torrent of orange, red, and blue flame poured forth from within his throat. The intensity of the flame singed the leaves on the trees below, although there was enough live wood in the way to prevent the flames from endangering the light-gray figure standing upon the ground below. The trees were in little danger of catching fire; the dragon’s breath wouldn’t last long enough to ignite the still growing wood. The burning of the leaves provided the dragon with the ability to see to the forest floor below him. For a split second he locked eyes with the ghostly figure that had stolen his gemstone.

Rage continued to build up within the dragon at each successful attempt in which the light-gray figure eluded his draconic grasp. The dragon decided that the branches in the area could not resist his heavy weight. His claws spread out and his wings opened to smooth his decent. Slowly he began to fall into the trees, branches bending, groaning, and then eventually snapping as they slowly bore the burden of his great weight. The gray figure below saw the dragon’s tactics and smiled. Once the dragon was on the ground the density of the tree growth would limit his effectiveness in combat.

The ghostly figure grasped the stone solidly and began to move off further to the east. The chase hadn’t lasted near long enough. By this time the village had enough time to be vacated and the villagers would be well on their way; but Semeion and Rhema should have only reached the dragon’s lair on foot by this point. He would need to lead the dragon deep into the thickest parts of the forest. That strategy would prevent the dragon from surging upward out of the forest as soon as the inevitable happened and the dragon caught up to the ghostly figure. Grixanthrosilithiss would have to backtrack on the ground to come to a place where the foliage could be broken through.

The ground thundered below Grixanthrosilithiss once he finally crashed to the ground. The ghostly figure did not feel the vibration as much as he noticed his surroundings shimmer slightly before his eyes. He didn’t need to turn around to sense the dragon’s fangs surge through the empty air behind him. The heat from the dragon’s normal breath was easily enough of a clue for him to realize that the pursuit was close behind.

Grixanthrosilithiss slide his long neck between the trees and snapped at the retreating figure. Once again the gemstone was just out of reach, his neck fell a matter of feet short once it was fully extended. The light-gray figure gained a few seconds advantage while Grixanthrosilithiss had to recoil his neck and find a path through the trees that his large body could follow. In the end, the great wyrm decided that it was simply easier to stand on his back feet and use his weight and front claws to topple the smaller trees than it was to find a path. It was slower, but it would get the job done and make it easier to fight once the battle was joined.

The light-gray figure smiled as he heard the trees snapping behind him. The reality was that with the trees snapping the dragon would likely not have a clear path to take to the sky once he was caught. It would be even more important that he kept the chase going as long as possible.

A short stone outcropping which rose up from the forest floor stood just ahead of the light-gray figure. The figure knew that Grixanthrosilithiss’s great strength was allowing him to gain from behind and this stone outcropping might provide him with the minute or two delay that he desired. The figure turned around to face his pursuer. Timing would be greatly important. The ghostly image looked up once more to judge the distance of the rock ledge above. When he returned his gaze back to the dragon he could see that Grixanthrosilithiss had slowed his approach. The dragon could sense that the figure was pinned between the dragon and the rock wall.

The wyrm began to chuckle. Grixanthrosilithiss looked as though he thought about talking and reminding the ghostly figure that the situation was hopeless; but at the last moment the dragon’s neck shot forward without having issued forth a word. The beast’s fangs snapped apart, spraying spittle across many of the trees in the area. The figure looked for only a fraction of a second into the dragon’s throat.

In a flash of motion, the ghostly figure tossed the dark red ruby up into the air once he was sure that the dragon’s jaws were open far enough to obscure the movement from his vision. As the stone flew into the air, the figure closed his eyes and stepped backwards into the rock behind him. Less than a second later the dragon’s jaws collided solidly with the rock outcropping. Grixanthrosilithiss roared again in rage as the figure eluded his grasp once more.

It didn’t take the wyrm long to understand what the ghostly figure had done to outsmart him. The part that took the most time was figuring out how to overcome the obstacle. The rock stretched far to both the left and the right. The dragon could easily go over, but the beast would need to clear several trees before there would be a hole large enough to jump upward. Even so, this seemed like the quickest option. Grixanthrosilithiss turned around as best as he could and began to wildly use his weight to knock down trees. It took the better part of a minute, but the wyrm eventually cleared a large enough hole to spread his wings and spring upward in a jump.

In a single bound Grixanthrosilithiss was able to leap onto the top of the rock. The gemstone wasn’t on top of the rock. Then again, Grixanthrosilithiss hadn’t expected it to be there. The dragon lowered its head to peer through the woods on the other side of the rock and could see the stone in quick retreat away from his position. The dragon smiled grimly as it realized that the chase was on once more. Grixanthrosilithiss roared and breathed forth a cone of fire in the direction he planned to go. The heat of the fire singed the smaller branched and shriveled the leaves, making the trees easier to knock down. After knocking a few trees to the ground from the top of the rock face Grixanthrosilithiss was able to jump down to the ground and continue the pursuit.

In spite of the best efforts to flee, the light-gray figure knew that he could not run forever. Instead, the figure determined that the rock face held his best chance for success. Slowly and surely the light-gray figure led the great wyrm in a circle and once again found himself approaching the rock face from a new direction. The dragon was closing once more. The figure had kept him busy long enough. It had been over an hour now. It was time to give up the chase. The task should have been accomplished.

As the figure approached the rock it released its grip upon the dark red ruby. The gemstone clanked solidly against the rock and fell to the bottom of the rock face. The figure vanished safely as it passed into the rock surface. Grixanthrosilithiss roared once more in fury as it realized that it would not have the opportunity of beating the thief who had tried to steal from his horde. Still, he had been gone from his horde long enough. The dragon roared once more and expelled another breath of fire in order to mark the forest. Rather than retreating to the place that it had originally descended to the forest floor, Grixanthrosilithiss spent a few seconds knocking over a few more trees. In this way the beast give itself room to run a few steps before surging upward into the sky.

Once it had taken the gemstone and launched itself into flight, the dragon looked down. From the sky it could trace the thin path of destruction that the chase had taken through the forest. The thin line of toppled trees showed the brilliance of the light-gray figure’s route. There was a strong intelligence behind the act. Yet Grixanthrosilithiss knew that the wyrm had not been able to be beaten. His horde was safe and once again complete. The dragon roared once more in an attempt to assert himself over his domain before turning straight for his lair.

[Sblock=Color-Free Speech Section]
{Yes, I realize that for this post this section is redundant because there is no colored speech in the main post! }

While the exodus was occurring and while Rhema and Semeion were climbing the long steps up to the dragon’s lair, the light-gray figure clutched the large ruby as he slowly descended to the ground and the forest that would protect him. The red wyrm had already made several passes at the figure, but each of them missed by narrow margins. There could be no doubt that the dragon had a greater speed, but the light-gray figure possessed a sleek sense of timing that had served him well thus far.

The light-gray figure slowed his approach to the treetops to allow the dragon one great pass before immersing himself into the cover. Grixanthrosilithiss saw his opportunity present itself and as he made a final turn he leveled off just above the tallest leaves of the forest. The wyrm flew in fast and hard, its leathery wings beating hard against the air. As he flew over the trees the thin branches at the top of the trees surged upward behind him as the breeze from his quick passing pulled them into the near vacuum that followed his presence.

The dragon knew that the light-gray figure would not make the tree line before it could be intercepted. Grixanthrosilithiss was no slouch in regards to the presence of the ghost, either. Time and time again the dragon had snapped at the ghost’s body with his magical fangs but grasped towards the gemstone with its claws as it sailed by. This approach would be no different. In preparation for the attack the dragon parted his lips on approach and viciously snapped its jaws together in a mock bite of intimidation.

The large dragon surged forward. At the last moment, the light-gray figure surged straight upward and above the dragon. Grixanthrosilithiss had not anticipated this maneuver. His fangs narrowly missed the ghostly figure’s feet. The wyrm thought about rolling over to allow him to attack upward with his claws. Yet the beast also knew that to do so would risk crashing into the treetops. The natural aerodynamics that lifted him into the air would only serve to assist gravity and pull him into the trees should he roll over this close to the foliage. Grixanthrosilithiss roared in anger as he sailed harmlessly past his stolen gemstone. The beast curved his neck in order to look behind him and watched the ghostly figure descend into the forest unharmed.

Once the figure knew the dragon could not interfere, he relinquished his ability to hold onto the stone with a smile upon his face. It was time to allow gravity to work. Without releasing his fingers, the dark ruby fell unhindered from his grasp and down into the forest canopy. Now that the ghostly figure was no longer bound by physical laws, the ghost was able to follow the stone easily through the maze of branches toward the ground. While the gemstone ricocheted off of countless branches the ghost merely passed through them until he reached the ground. Once the gemstone had come to rest upon the soft ground below the trees the light-gray figure reconstituted his ability to grasp the stone and he bent down to pick it up.

By this time the dragon had managed to loop around and come to a hovering position where he had seen the gemstone disappear. Grixanthrosilithiss sucked in a large breath of air and prepared to usher forth a great display of his most impressive draconic ability. As he exhaled, a torrent of orange, red, and blue flame poured forth from within his throat. The intensity of the flame singed the leaves on the trees below, although there was enough live wood in the way to prevent the flames from endangering the light-gray figure standing upon the ground below. The trees were in little danger of catching fire; the dragon’s breath wouldn’t last long enough to ignite the still growing wood. The burning of the leaves provided the dragon with the ability to see to the forest floor below him. For a split second he locked eyes with the ghostly figure that had stolen his gemstone.

Rage continued to build up within the dragon at each successful attempt in which the light-gray figure eluded his draconic grasp. The dragon decided that the branches in the area could not resist his heavy weight. His claws spread out and his wings opened to smooth his decent. Slowly he began to fall into the trees, branches bending, groaning, and then eventually snapping as they slowly bore the burden of his great weight. The gray figure below saw the dragon’s tactics and smiled. Once the dragon was on the ground the density of the tree growth would limit his effectiveness in combat.

The ghostly figure grasped the stone solidly and began to move off further to the east. The chase hadn’t lasted near long enough. By this time the village had enough time to be vacated and the villagers would be well on their way; but Semeion and Rhema should have only reached the dragon’s lair on foot by this point. He would need to lead the dragon deep into the thickest parts of the forest. That strategy would prevent the dragon from surging upward out of the forest as soon as the inevitable happened and the dragon caught up to the ghostly figure. Grixanthrosilithiss would have to backtrack on the ground to come to a place where the foliage could be broken through.

The ground thundered below Grixanthrosilithiss once he finally crashed to the ground. The ghostly figure did not feel the vibration as much as he noticed his surroundings shimmer slightly before his eyes. He didn’t need to turn around to sense the dragon’s fangs surge through the empty air behind him. The heat from the dragon’s normal breath was easily enough of a clue for him to realize that the pursuit was close behind.

Grixanthrosilithiss slide his long neck between the trees and snapped at the retreating figure. Once again the gemstone was just out of reach, his neck fell a matter of feet short once it was fully extended. The light-gray figure gained a few seconds advantage while Grixanthrosilithiss had to recoil his neck and find a path through the trees that his large body could follow. In the end, the great wyrm decided that it was simply easier to stand on his back feet and use his weight and front claws to topple the smaller trees than it was to find a path. It was slower, but it would get the job done and make it easier to fight once the battle was joined.

The light-gray figure smiled as he heard the trees snapping behind him. The reality was that with the trees snapping the dragon would likely not have a clear path to take to the sky once he was caught. It would be even more important that he kept the chase going as long as possible.

A short stone outcropping which rose up from the forest floor stood just ahead of the light-gray figure. The figure knew that Grixanthrosilithiss’s great strength was allowing him to gain from behind and this stone outcropping might provide him with the minute or two delay that he desired. The figure turned around to face his pursuer. Timing would be greatly important. The ghostly image looked up once more to judge the distance of the rock ledge above. When he returned his gaze back to the dragon he could see that Grixanthrosilithiss had slowed his approach. The dragon could sense that the figure was pinned between the dragon and the rock wall.

The wyrm began to chuckle. Grixanthrosilithiss looked as though he thought about talking and reminding the ghostly figure that the situation was hopeless; but at the last moment the dragon’s neck shot forward without having issued forth a word. The beast’s fangs snapped apart, spraying spittle across many of the trees in the area. The figure looked for only a fraction of a second into the dragon’s throat.

In a flash of motion, the ghostly figure tossed the dark red ruby up into the air once he was sure that the dragon’s jaws were open far enough to obscure the movement from his vision. As the stone flew into the air, the figure closed his eyes and stepped backwards into the rock behind him. Less than a second later the dragon’s jaws collided solidly with the rock outcropping. Grixanthrosilithiss roared again in rage as the figure eluded his grasp once more.

It didn’t take the wyrm long to understand what the ghostly figure had done to outsmart him. The part that took the most time was figuring out how to overcome the obstacle. The rock stretched far to both the left and the right. The dragon could easily go over, but the beast would need to clear several trees before there would be a hole large enough to jump upward. Even so, this seemed like the quickest option. Grixanthrosilithiss turned around as best as he could and began to wildly use his weight to knock down trees. It took the better part of a minute, but the wyrm eventually cleared a large enough hole to spread his wings and spring upward in a jump.

In a single bound Grixanthrosilithiss was able to leap onto the top of the rock. The gemstone wasn’t on top of the rock. Then again, Grixanthrosilithiss hadn’t expected it to be there. The dragon lowered its head to peer through the woods on the other side of the rock and could see the stone in quick retreat away from his position. The dragon smiled grimly as it realized that the chase was on once more. Grixanthrosilithiss roared and breathed forth a cone of fire in the direction he planned to go. The heat of the fire singed the smaller branched and shriveled the leaves, making the trees easier to knock down. After knocking a few trees to the ground from the top of the rock face Grixanthrosilithiss was able to jump down to the ground and continue the pursuit.

In spite of the best efforts to flee, the light-gray figure knew that he could not run forever. Instead, the figure determined that the rock face held his best chance for success. Slowly and surely the light-gray figure led the great wyrm in a circle and once again found himself approaching the rock face from a new direction. The dragon was closing once more. The figure had kept him busy long enough. It had been over an hour now. It was time to give up the chase. The task should have been accomplished.

As the figure approached the rock it released its grip upon the dark red ruby. The gemstone clanked solidly against the rock and fell to the bottom of the rock face. The figure vanished safely as it passed into the rock surface. Grixanthrosilithiss roared once more in fury as it realized that it would not have the opportunity of beating the thief who had tried to steal from his horde. Still, he had been gone from his horde long enough. The dragon roared once more and expelled another breath of fire in order to mark the forest. Rather than retreating to the place that it had originally descended to the forest floor, Grixanthrosilithiss spent a few seconds knocking over a few more trees. In this way the beast give itself room to run a few steps before surging upward into the sky.

Once it had taken the gemstone and launched itself into flight, the dragon looked down. From the sky it could trace the thin path of destruction that the chase had taken through the forest. The thin line of toppled trees showed the brilliance of the light-gray figure’s route. There was a strong intelligence behind the act. Yet Grixanthrosilithiss knew that the wyrm had not been able to be beaten. His horde was safe and once again complete. The dragon roared once more in an attempt to assert himself over his domain before turning straight for his lair.[/Sblock]