Chapter 9-6

Eating and resting felt good. In fact, it felt like maybe they shouldn't bother continuing on until the next day. After the terror and flight of the morning, all of them were rather exhausted. Even the normally energetic Zakhin'Dakh seemed to be drooping a bit. And thus, they decided to camp for the night, even though sunset was still hours away.

Soon Garkhen and Zakhin'Dakh fell asleep... but Almonihah forced himself to stay awake. They were, he reasoned, in a likely hostile locale where who-knows-what might be prowling the night. One of them, at least, had to stay awake and keep watch, and if the other two were too tired to do it, well, he'd have to. Maybe he'd wake Garkhen later in the night. But for now, he would pace about to keep himself awake, looking warily into the jungle with its noisy creatures as the last light of day faded from the sky.

He awoke with a start the next morning. At some point he'd given in to the desire to sit down for a moment... and fallen asleep himself. Almonihah stood up abruptly and looked over their little campsite. Zakhin'Dakh and Garkhen were still asleep... he checked his pouches. Everything seemed to still be in place.

Still wary, he walked the perimeter of their camp again, but still saw no signs of nighttime intrusions. He was just about to relax slightly when his sharp ears picked up something that didn't blend in with the bird calls and other sounds of the jungle around him.

Voices in the distance.

He ran over to Garkhen and rapped on his armor (he'd slept in it!), urgently whispering, “Get up!”

While his fellow half-dragon awoke, Almonihah hustled over to his griffon friend and similarly woke him. In a few moments, the three were all awake, huddled together at the center of the clearing.

“People coming. Should get away from here,” Almonihah stated.

“Because they are likely pirates?” Garkhen surmised, then sighed. “We cannot evade them forever if we wish to get off this island.”

“Still not a good time t' meet them,” Almonihah asserted.

What those? Zakhin'Dakh interjected inquisitively.

“Pirates are... bad people. Who kill other people t' take their stuff,” Almonihah replied, after a moment's thought.

The big griffon growled deep in his chest. Not kill you. Me kill if try.

“Going t' fly away for now,” Almonihah stated, as he started getting Zakhin'Dakh's saddle ready. “Don't know 'f there are too many t' fight, and don't want to.”

“But at some point, we shall have to,” Garkhen added.

It took only a few minutes to break camp, and they were soon airborne again. Behind them they heard shouts of alarm, but they soon faded behind them as Zakhin'Dakh sped away. 

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Yeah, neither Almonihah nor Zakhin'Dakh know the Great Eagle word for 'pirate'. :D

Hope everyone had a good Christmas! I should figure out Draezolnian religious festivals sometime. Hmmm...

Chapter 9-5

Once he was satisfied no danger would immediately attack them, Almonihah turned back to his two friends. “Not going t' pass out again, Garkhen?”

Garkhen shakily got to his feet. “No... I think I am well enough off,” he stated, though his voice seemed uncertain.

The half-bronze dragon walked over to Zakhin'Dakh. Are you okay?

The big griffon screeched quietly. I hurt everywhere.

Almonihah looked him over as Zakhin'Dakh also stood. “Nothing's broken that I see,” he stated, patting the griffon lightly on a leg. “Just bruised.”

“We are... fortunate,” Garkhen stated as he carefully walked over to join them. “I doubt I could channel much healing power in my present state, and we are far from any aid.” He paused, then added more quietly, “I pray the ship survived.”

Almonihah nodded. “Well... got t' find a way off this island,” he said, after another long moment of silence.

“Indeed,” Garkhen agreed. “And given the name of this place, I doubt any others we meet here will be friendly.”

“Pirates 'll have ships, though,” Almonihah replied. “Won't want t' let us use one, but they'll have 'em.”

“Yes...” Garkhen trailed off, thinking.

“Better start walking,” Almonihah said, after waiting briefly for Garkhen to continue. “Don't think we can do much here.”

Walking good now, Zakhin'Dakh added. Wings tired.

“Think we're both grateful for your tired wings, Zakhin'Dakh,” Almonihah said as he led the way into the jungle.

Traveling through the dense underbrush of the jungle's edge was slow going for the little group—particularly Zakhin'Dakh. Almonihah could only hope there wasn't anything hostile nearby, for the massive griffon was making enough noise making his way though the vegetation to tell anyone for miles around they were there.

Well, perhaps that wasn't true. The jungle was scarcely a quiet place. The calls of birds, monkeys, and stranger beasts filled the air, and the three friends were scarcely the only ones disturbing the underbrush (though most other movements nearby seemed to be going away from them). The Ranger paid close attention to the sights and sounds of their surroundings, thinking that he'd have to hunt for at least Garkhen here, given that they'd hardly packed for a jungle expedition. Hopefully Zakhin'Dakh could hunt for himself, though...

They fought their way through the jungle for hours. Finally they reached a clearing. Almonihah looked over at Garkhen, who was clearly fatigued.

“You stay here. Zakhin'Dakh 'nd I 'll go hunt.”

Hungry! Zakhin'Dakh agreed.

Garkhen nodded, too tired to wish to speak much, and sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree while the other two took off.

They returned a while later with half of some sort of hoofed mammal. It was... sort of like a deer, and Zakhin'Dakh had enjoyed the half he'd eaten, so Almonihah figured it would do for himself and Garkhen. The griffon set the other half down as the two hunters landed. Almonihah set about starting a fire and cleaning and dressing the remaining... beast. He, at least, had a few useful things in his belt pouches, and he could cram some cooked meat in them after they'd eaten their fill. 

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Yeah, sometimes even adventurers have to do boring things like get food. :D

Chapter 9-4

The next moments were a blur of noise and chaos. Men stabbed and chopped at tentacles with spears, axes... whatever they had on hand. They seemed to do little more than annoy the beast, which responded by seizing them and pulling them underwater or crushing the life out of them before tossing them aside. The ships' mage somehow managed to stay clear of the tentacles, but even his spells hardly seemed to slow the beast.

Garkhen, meanwhile, was chanting as swiftly as he could, putting every ward on the ship possible. He had nothing that could hold the beast back, nothing that could save the sailors from being snatched by tentacles... but he could keep the ship in one piece for just a few moments longer.

Just... a few... more... seconds...

Almonihah had taken off, his unsteady flight betraying his lack of practice with his wings. But he had such a huge target that wavering about in midair hardly mattered for his aim. Not that his arrows seemed to phase the massive creature. He caught a brief glimpse of Tirel in tiger form, dangling in midair as he held on to a tentacle with his teeth, but then he lost sight of the Wyre again.

Zakhin'Dakh was also in the air, darting in to slash at a tentacle here and there when he could, then flying back out of reach. His talons, at least, seemed to do actual harm to the monstrosity, but it simply had so many tentacles.

Almonihah growled deep in his throat. This was hopeless. There was no way out. Everyone on the ship was going to die, and he and Zakhin'Dakh... well, unless they could make it to that Pirate Isle...

The amulet, he muttered to himself, coming to a sudden realization. This thing was probably a Javni'Tolkhrah. And that meant...

Zakhin'Dakh! He yelled out in Great Eagle. Get Garkhen!

Unquestioning, the huge griffon looked for a break in writhing mass of tentacles. Finding one, he dove down, weaving between death and danger to his other friend. With a loud shriek, he plucked the half-blue dragon up off of the deck, then flew back upwards.

It was clear he had the beast's attention now. Garkhen only just barely had time to process what had happened before he saw tentacles closing in on them from all around. With a quick spell-prayer, he summoned up a ward. He couldn't hold it for more than a brief moment... but a brief moment was enough them to break through to clear air.

Almonihah was there waiting for them. We have to take the Amulet away from here! He shouted in Draconic.

Garkhen gasped in sudden understanding. “But where shall we go?”

See land! This way! Zakhin'Dakh shrieked, guessing that he was being helpful. He started flying to the west.

“Prob'ly that Pirate Isle they were talking about,” Almonihah commented, looking behind them.

The massive beast had, indeed, ceased attacking the ship in order to follow them. Zakhin'Dakh's flight was leaving it behind... but he was leaving the half-bronze dragon behind, as well.

Hey, Zakhin'Dakh, let me catch up, he called out.

The griffon looked behind, saw he was leaving his friend behind, and slowed down until Almonihah could reach him and get in his saddle. Then they flew off westward, thunder rumbling behind them.

A griffon can see far across the sea, and it turned out the island Zakhin'Dakh had seen was quite distant. By the time they were nearing its shores the griffon was struggling to stay in the air, and Almonihah had gotten off to fly alongside him to lighten his load.

The island did not look particularly hospitable. Two low cone-shaped mountains, cracked and topless, trickled smoke into the steely-gray sky, while waves crashed on craggy shores below them. Between the two a dense jungle grew, dark and threatening under the stormy skies.

It was towards this jungle that Zakhin'Dakh directed his tired flight. He practically crashed rather than landed, sending Garkhen sprawling on the ground to his side while the big griffon came to a stop, panting heavily. Almonihah landed next to them, warily looking about for danger.

But for now... all was quiet, save for the crash of waves on cliffs behind them. They'd lost sight of the beast sometime as they'd flown... but none of them doubted it was out there, waiting...

***********************

Yeah, bad day. Sorry this is a week late--last week I was writing an academic paper instead of for fun.

And no, you don't get to know what happened to Tirel just now. >: D

Chapter 9-3

Zakhin'Dakh perked up at Almonihah's shout, then took off, risking the storm to look closer. Soon he circled back, shrieking out, Really big! Bigger than me!

“It's big, too!” Almonihah translated, nocking an arrow and preparing for when the creature broke the surface.

Both Garkhen and the ship's mage hurried over to where he stood, looking out over the ship's railing. The mage paled at the sight. Behind them, the captain was shouting out orders, and sailors were arming themselves with whatever they could—though there seemed to be a number of them with spears.

There was no time to ponder what this meant, however, for a tentacle snaked out of the water ahead of the approaching creature. It was nearly as thick around as a man, and ended in a pad with large suckers. The ship's mage belted out a short incantation and hurled a bolt of lightning at it. It blasted a smoking hole in the pad, making the tentacle flail about and then submerge beneath the water... only to be replaced by one, two, three more.

As the tentacles drew near enough to touch the ship, the creature partially emerged, showing a huge, fleshy head, covered with odd growths in various grays and browns, with a gigantic maw ringed by countless tentacles. Almonihah loosed an arrow at it, but he knew it would be little more than a pinprick to a creature of such size.

He swore, quietly but intensely, in Draconic as he nocked another arrow. This was going to be bad...

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But of course it's a Kraken! What else would it be?

And yes, short post today. I have a couple big projects due next week, so I'll probably be brief on the next post, too. 

Chapter 9-2

They made good time for the first few days, the ship's mage conjuring a strong wind behind them as they headed north-northwest.

But good weather rarely lasts.

One evening, as the sun was getting low, Zakhin'Dakh flew back to the ship in haste. Almonihah! He shrieked as he got close. Bad clouds! Fast!

“Bad clouds?” Almonihah repeated, in Common. “You mean a storm?” Storm, he repeated in Great Eagle, to teach his friend the word.

Yeah! Come fast! Strong wind!

“What's that about a storm?” the ship's captain asked, walking across the deck towards Almonihah.

“Zakhin'Dakh says there's one coming,” the half-dragon said. “Strong winds, heading this way fast.”

The captain looked concerned, and went over to speak with the ship's mage. As he did, Zakhin'Dakh came in for a careful landing, making sure not to tear up the deck with his talons.

Look strange, the big griffon said to his best friend. Clouds not move right.

What do you mean? Almonihah asked, frowning.

Clouds not move right! Not move cloud like!

The clouds aren't moving like clouds should, Almonihah absently corrected, then turned and walked over to the captain.

“He says it's worse. Clouds aren't moving right.” Almonihah paused a moment. “How close 're we t' the Madlands?”

“As far as we can sail and not be in sight of the Pirate Isle,” the captain replied, seemingly a bit affronted. “Never had trouble before with anything unnatural.” He seemed to look suspiciously at the half-bronze dragon as he said this.

Garkhen had, by now, noticed that something was going on. He walked over, concern plain on his face.

“Storm's coming. Unnatural one,” Almonihah explained, before his fellow half-dragon could ask.

Garkhen's eyes widened just a bit, and he nodded slightly. “I see.”

Just then, the ship's lookout shouted out, “Cap'n! Dark clouds on the horizon! Storm's coming!”

The captain looked up and gave the lookout a short nod, then started shouting out orders to his crew.

The ship slowly turned about as the wind picked up, filling the sails without magical assistance.

Almonihah, Garkhen, Tirel, and Zakhin'Dakh simply tried to stay out of the way. After a few minutes, the ship's mage came over.

“Garkhen, you are a Priest of Bahamut, correct?”

“I am a Warder of Bahamut, yes,” Garkhen affirmed.

The mage nodded slightly. “Then perhaps you might aid in reinforcing the ship with your wards? The masts and hull both may well need aid to weather this storm.”

Already thick, dark clouds were visible even from the deck, moving closer... and as Zakhin'Dakh had said, something seemed wrong about the way they moved. It was almost... like they were alive, somehow, oozing their way forwards across the sky like some filthy slime.

Garkhen nodded, and followed the mage to set up wards. Almonihah, meanwhile, walked over to the aft, figuring he'd be both out of the way and in position to look at the coming storm. But soon something else caught his eye. A dark shadow on the water...

No. Not on the water. Under the water. And it was approaching even faster than the storm.

“Look out!” He shouted, getting his bow out. “Something's coming from the water!

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Yep, trouble. Always trouble. Things can never go right for long, right?

Chapter 9-1

Chapter 9: Islands

“The cause of Righteousness is ever opposed. I am never surprised to find this so, for to do good has never been easy. I find, in the stories of days past, that there was never a tale of a hero without a tale of hardship survived and toil endured. For evil never rests in its battle against joy, nor does time wait for the slothful.”

“I find it odd that there are those who believe that goodness will exempt them from hardship. I suppose such must be unfamiliar with history, for this theory is amply disproved there. Good is never accomplished easily.”

Almonihah hated ships. They were so... confining, like being locked in a box in the middle of the ocean. He spent as much time on-deck as he could, though he had to make sure to stay out of the way of the sailors with his restless pacing.

Sometimes he considered joining Zakhin'Dakh, who coped with the long journey much as he had on the way down, by spending as much time in the air as he could. But flying under his own power always brought back bad memories, and he didn't want to tire his friend out faster and thereby make him spend more time on the ship. So he stayed here and paced.

Garkhen did not mind the time on board. Not only did he appreciate the rest, he had also taken the opportunity to purchase a few books while in Ferd, so he usually found a quiet corner to read each day. If the sailors thought it odd that he was reading in full armor... well, he was a half-dragon, which was odd enough already.

Tirel was the only one of the group who truly seemed to enjoy sailing for its own sake. He watched the sailors managed the ropes and sails with curiosity, and often looked out over the waves with a bit of a grin.

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Just a moment of calm here. You know what that means. >: D

Chapter 8-7

Garkhen looked surprised. “You sailed here, then?”

Almonihah snorted. “Yeah.”

The half-blue dragon looked over at the huge griffon. “Ah... I had not thought a ship would be sufficient for Zakhin'Dakh.”

Almonihah shrugged. “Lot 'f strange things get shipped from Midport. Just had t' find th' right captain.”

Tirel laughed. “Somehow I don't think it'll be that easy, Almonihah.”

“Least now we have someone who can look human.”

The tiger-man grinned. “It's not often that I get to be the most normal person in a group.”

Almonihah snorted, shifting his wings slightly. “May have t' get used to it 'f you keep following us around.”

The Wyre shrugged slightly. “We'll see. I could always just stay in my Wyre form if I wanted to keep you three company,” he added, grinning.

“I think it will be wiser for you to assume human form, my friend,” Garkhen interjected, also grinning. “As you have pointed out, we shall have enough difficulty as it is purchasing passage.”

They traveled quickly, but it still took several days to reach the capital city of Ferd. Tirel did, indeed, assume human form as they neared the city. The group still got some weird looks, but... it was clear from speaking with the guards at the gates of the city that the story of Almonihah and Zakhin'Dakh coming through the town when they had arrived in Ferdunan had spread... and Garkhen's tale seemed equally well-known.

Once they were out of earshot of the guards, Almonihah muttered, “Guess a reputation's good for something.”

“A good one is, yes,” Garkhen agreed.

They soon found that their good reputation was not sufficient to find passage easily. The captains they spoke with pointed out—quite rightly—the many challenges of transporting a creature like Zakhin'Dakh. Many spoke of how crews would likely not work well with a giant griffon about. None were willing to take the chance, in spite of the offer of significant quantities of gold.

It was nearly a week before they finally had some luck. Another ship from Midport had come in, and while the captain was reluctant at first, when they brought up the subject of payment, he grew more agreeable.

At last he said, “Well, if you feed him and clean up after him, I'll take you aboard.”

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I apologize for the late post. Here, have a picture of Zakhin'Dakh fighting a behir to make up for it. :D

I feel like I glossed over the difficulties of shipping a giant griffon a bit too much on the way south. It may be a bit more of an issue now... 

Chapter 8-6

In spite of their best efforts, their stay stretched out to several days. After telling Whitepaw all he could, Garkhen mostly rested. He hated admitting it, but he needed the rest—he had drained himself too thoroughly over the past days, and needed to rebuild his strength. Whitepaw occasionally called him in to discuss something with him, but other than that he rested or, sometimes, spoke with Tirel or the other Wyre.

Wyre seemed to drift in and out of the little refuge. Garkhen couldn't quite follow why some stayed and some left, though he gathered that sometimes Whitepaw requested that one or another of the Wyre do something. But for the most part, they seemed to come and go at their own volition.

Almonihah recognized what was going on. It wasn't so different from how the Rangers worked—partly independent, partly at the direction of a leader. In fact, he enjoyed being with them—they were fellow worshipers of Naishia, and he found he had a fair amount in common with them. Though even here he was still an outsider to some degree, but... he was used to that. At least they didn't think he was a monster or something.

Zakhin'Dakh thought the Wyre were really cool, what with turning into animals and animal-people and stuff. He liked following Almonihah around while he was talking with them, or just following them around in general, watching what they were doing and trying to talk with them. He was a little jealous of them having hands and being able to be animals at the same time. Hands were useful! But he was a griffon, so he didn't have hands, so it seemed a little unfair that they could be things like eagles or tigers and still have hands, but it was okay he guessed. At least he had more friends with hands now.

In spite of feeling more at ease here, Almonihah couldn't really relax. Not with that Amulet around. He checked in frequently at Whitepaw's hut to make sure it was still there. It always was, but... he was pretty sure the wolf-Wyre looked at him approvingly as he came, as if she appreciated his concern for the dangerous artifact.

At last she called the three friends together, coming outside with a small wooden box in her hands.

“This is all I can do,” she explained to them. “Though I studied it long, I have found no method to destroy it. Its power is beyond my understanding. Where you might go or what you might do... I know not, save that I feel you should go north.”

“North?” Almonihah repeated. He thought a moment. “S'pose there's th' Midport Mage's Guild. Supposed t' be the biggest bunch 'f wizards anywhere.”

“That may be your best hope,” Whitepaw said. “This was worked by a sorcerer of great skill and power, from what I have seen, and so perhaps wizards may succeed where I and other Druids have failed.”

Almonihah snorted. “Or they could try t' take it.”

“Only the very foolish would do so,” Whitepaw replied.

“I doubt we will find such leading a Guild of such repute, Almonihah,” Garkhen said, trying to forestall further argument.

The half-bronze dragon grunted, but said nothing further.

“Very well, then. You shall depart in the morning with all haste. Even contained, this Amulet sickens me, and I cannot imagine its presence here has gone unmarked this whole time.”

“And I'll come, too!”

Everyone turned to see Tirel jogging up to join the group. He grinned a bit as he met the quartet of gazes.

“This Amulet thing's got trouble written all over it, and I figure you could use another hand. Or paw.”

“I, for one, would be glad for your company, Tirel,” Garkhen replied, smiling back. “What do you think, Almonihah?”

Almonihah shrugged. “Help if th' Javni'Tolkhrah attack again.”

Garkhen turned to the big griffon. “What of you, Zakhin'Dakh?”

Zakhin'Dakh shrieked happily and nodded. He liked having more friends!

“Then it is decided,” Whitepaw said. “Prepare as best you can and rest well. You shall need your strength in days to come.”

The Wyre sent them off the next day with a simple but hearty farewell. Tirel led the little group away, back south and west towards the ocean and the ships that could carry them to Midport.

As they traveled, Zakhin'Dakh looked over at Almonihah.

Where we go next? He asked with an excited screech.

The Ranger grinned just the slightest bit at his friend's eager, innocent question. “Back t' the ocean. You remember th' place that had other griffons?”

Zakhin'Dakh screeched an enthusiastic agreement.

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Zakhin'Dakh likes friends. Friends are good. They're really cool! :D

Chapter 8-5

The inside of the hut was as humble as the outside—a few rough mats were arranged around a central fire pit, though no fire burned there now. A variety of dried herbs hung from the ceiling or were neatly arranged along one wall. In the back was a small stool, on which sat another Wyre—a gray-furred wolf-woman, with an odd patch of white fur on one hand, a staff in hand. She stood smoothly as the two half-dragons entered.

“You have come. Good,” she stated, calmly.

“You are Whitepaw, yes?” Garkhen asked.

The Wyre nodded. “I am. And you are Garkhen, you are Almonihah, and the griffon outside is Zakhin'Dakh. You have not made information about yourselves hard to find.”

“What's that supposed t' mean?” Almonihah growled.

“It means the many who no doubt seek what you carry cannot fail but to recognize you wherever you go,” Whitepaw stated, calmly. “Which means we have little time.”

Almonihah snorted. “Not much t' do about being covered with scales...”

“It is not an accusation. It is a fact you shall have to account for. Now, may I see your burden?”

Both half-dragons hesitated a bit, so Whitepaw added, “That is why you came, yes? I can scarce aid if you do not trust me thus far. I certainly do not plan to touch it, if that is your concern.”

After another long moment, Almonihah reached into his pack and pulled out the box holding the Amulet, then set it on the ground. After a bit more hesitation he opened it, revealing the multicolored stone in its chains.

Whitepaw shuddered. “Such an ugly thing...” she murmured. “Garkhen, you participated in sealing it once, correct?”

Garkhen looked at her with surprise. “Yes, I did... at least, in creating a container to seal its power temporarily.”

“That shall be the best I can do. You are tired still, so I will ask you only what you remember of what was done. Quickly, now. You have little time to spend.”

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Here, a late, short post. I'm going to be rather busy evenings for the next while, so short posts is probably going to be the norm. Not that I've been writing long post much recently anyway.

Chapter 8-4

It took them two more days' travel to reach the Pack's den—largely because maneuvering a large griffon through the underbrush was rather slow going. Several times Tirel had to look around for a different path than the one he was accustomed to in order to accommodate Zakhin'Dakh's bulk.

As evening wore on, Almonihah glanced aside with a frown. “That's not th' way a normal fox acts,” he commented.

The whole party stopped and looked where he was. Sure enough, a fox slipped out of the underbrush and looked up at them... then shifted into a clothed, humanoid form.

“You've got sharp eyes there, Bronze-scales,” the fox-Wyre commented, grinning.

Almonihah shrugged, unsurprised. “You learn 'f you live long 'nough in the wilds. Or die.”

“Such a cheerful fellow you've brought, Tirel,” the grinning fox-man commented to the other Wyre. “He a friend of yours?”

“A friend of a friend, at least,” Tirel replied, grinning back. “Garkhen you've heard of, and these are his friends, Almonihah and Zakhin'Dakh.” He pointed at each in turn as he introduced them. “And this is Eznin,” he finished, pointing at the fox-Wyre.

Eznin gave the group a little bow. “Greetings, greetings all! I'm guessing Tirel's filled you in on our little group?” Without waiting for an answer he slipped ahead of the group and started walking. 

“Well, we've heard a bit about you, too. And that means you go straight to Whitepaw. No messing around.”

There almost seemed to be a note of disappointment at his last statement.

It wasn't much longer before they came into... it wasn't quite a clearing, but more an area cleared of underbrush under the canopy of the forest. A few simple huts were built around the largest trees. It wasn't much to look at... but the inhabitants were. A dog-man, a hawk-man, a stag-man... and who knew if some of the animals around the area were actually Wyre?

“Welcome to our humble little home,” Eznin said, turning and bowing again. He pointed to one of the huts. “Whitepaw's waiting for you in there.” 

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Yeah, short post, I know. 

Chapter 8-3

Garkhen rode Zakhin'Dakh as they followed Tirel across fields and towards a large forest. Almonihah had insisted that Garkhen rest longer, rather than march on his own, and the half-blue dragon had reluctantly agreed. Tirel led the little group, trying to keep more to the low-lying areas so as to avoid sight. A few times they saw a farmer off in the distance, but no one ever troubled the odd (and dangerous-looking) group.

By night, they were again under the shade of trees, this time at the edge of a much larger forest. They had turned somewhat from the course Zakhin'Dakh had been flying before—they were further to the west, now, rather than heading south.

After Garkhen dismounted, Zakhin'Dakh collapsed on his side with a huge sigh. Almonihah looked over at him with a bit of amusement.

Tired, Zakhin'Dakh?

Not like walk, the big griffon replied.

Tirel looked surprised. “You can speak with him?”

Almonihah nodded slightly. “Understands Human, too.”

Zakhin'Dakh perked up and screeched happily, nodding.

The Wyre grinned. “Is that so, big guy? Well I'm sorry I didn't talk to you earlier! I'd just never met a griffon before.”

I smart griffon! Zakhin'Dakh interjected.

Tirel looked over at Almonihah. “What'd he say?”

“Said he's a smart griffon. 'nd he is.” He glanced between the two of them. “Not sure I want to translate a whole conversation, though.”

“Well... I suppose I'll just show you this, then,” Tirel said, grinning. Swiftly his form flowed and changed, until there was a large, grinning tiger looking up at the huge griffon.

Zakhin'Dakh shrieked in surprise, then 'oooooed'. That's cool!

Almonihah watched with less surprise. “So that's what it looks like.”

Tirel changed into his hybrid tiger-man form. “You'd heard of Wyre before, then?”

“Rangers 'nd druids I know 've talked about Wyre. Blessed of Naishia to take the shape of animals in defense of the land, 'nd all that. Thought there were hardly more 'n a few of you, though.”

“There aren't many of us. Maybe twenty here in Ferdunan, and nowhere else has as many Wyre. No one seems to know why there's so many of us here, though my guess is it's the recent war... and that Amulet.”

Almonihah nodded. “Makes sense.”

Suddenly a loud crash interrupted their conversation. Almonihah turned, hand on Eldereth's hilt, and saw that Garkhen had dozed off, the crash resulting from him falling over on his side as he had fallen asleep.

Of course, he was awake now, and he grinned sheepishly at his friends. “It would appear I am still rather fatigued, my friends.”

Tirel laughed. “I guess so! Maybe it's time we made camp.”  

***************

Griffons are made for flying, not walking!

Chapter 8-2

It took several days for Garkhen to recover enough to travel—several long, nervous, lean days, while Almonihah watched anxiously for signs of more Javni'Tolkhrah, and Zakhin'Dakh had to fly ever-further afield to find hunting grounds. Yet no more attacks came—not even some nervous warriors following the griffon back to the trees. The Amulet was quiet.

It all made Almonihah anxious.

“No way that thing's really being quiet,” he grumbled to Garkhen.

The Warder didn't have to ask what his friend was speaking about. “Perhaps it must recharge its power?”

Almonihah snorted. “No way we're that lucky.”

“And yet there is nothing we can do if it is somehow subtly preparing for another attack upon us, my friend, and so we had best plan our next move.”

“Mage's Guild. Ferd,” Almonihah growled. “More mages. 'Cause that worked so well.”

“There was a single traitor,” Garkhen began.

“That they found,” Almonihah growled back. He stood again, making an angry gesture with one clawed hand. “But we have no other options. So we'll just have t' try again.” He snorted.

“Almonihah...”

“I'm going,” the half-bronze dragon grumbled. “Just quit trying t' convince me to like 't.”

Garkhen sighed, but said nothing more. The argument had grown tired long ago. Instead, he stood up, and opened his mouth to speak.

“It's a good thing that griffon's around, or I would never have found you, Garkhen!”

The half-blue dragon jumped, recognizing the voice instantly. “Tirel?” He said, turning.

Almonihah had drawn his blades, and was looking at the unassuming-looking man who had just walked to the edge of their encampment. “Friend 'f yours?”

Garkhen nodded, smiling. “Yes, a good friend. We fought together briefly in the war, and sometime afterward.”

“And then you went and got new friends,” Tirel teased, grinning as he walked forward. “At least you look glad to see me.”

Garkhen's smile picked up an edge of a grin in return. “Always, my friend. But I should introduce you. Almonihah, Zakhin'Dakh, this is Tirel, a Wyre warrior of Naishia. Tirel, this is Almonihah the Ranger and his friend, Zakhin'Dakh.”

Almonihah relaxed a bit at the mention of Naishia, noting also the simple leather loop around his neck, much like the one around Almonihah's own neck that held the rampant unicorn symbol of Naishia. “Wyre, huh? Heard 'f you, but never met one.”

“Well until Garkhen here, I'd never met a half-dragon either. I guess we're both rare breeds,” Tirel replied, turning his grin on Almonihah.

The half-dragon grunted, sheathing his swords. “So you've been looking for him?” He said, nodding at Garkhen.

“For all of you,” Tirel said, his voice suddenly serious. “As soon as Whitepaw heard of what happened to the Rangers, she sent us out searching for you. I stopped by Elifort and... well, that's a nasty hole in the wall.”

“Whitepaw?” Almonihah asked.

“The leader of our little Pack, and a Druid,” The Wyre replied. “A powerful one, at that. She heard what Llitthos was able to determine, and... you really shouldn't be carrying that around uncovered.”

Almonihah snorted. “Wouldn't 'f I had a choice.”

“Well, she may be able to do something about that. What's more... well, she might be able to figure out a way to destroy it.”

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Hey, look! It's a familiar charcter! 

Chapter 8-1

Chapter 8: Sea

“Can't blame people for being afraid. Know I look scary, 'nd there're plenty of things in th' world t' be scared 'f. 'nd the whole Amulet thing didn't help. Still...”

Almonihah looked back at Elifort, just a hint of a snarl on his face. Oh, he could understand why they'd been thrown out... he could understand. But he didn't respect it. Of course, they hadn't gotten out of the city as fast as some would have wanted, what with an unconscious Garkhen to pick up and the safety of the Amulet to ensure.

Not that they'd been able to do much about the Amulet... Maritha had hastily put it in a small metal box and cast a spell over it, complaining all the while that there was no way it would even blunt the powerful magic of the artifact. Almonihah could almost feel it sitting in his pack, its accursed power questing outwards, seeking to... he didn't know what, but he was sure it was bad.

As for their destination... Maritha's hurried suggestion had been the Royal Mage's Guild at Ferd, the capital city. And so Zakhin'Dakh was flying south again, winging over the increasingly flat and settled lands away from the mountains. Almonihah tried to direct his friend's flight over the least inhabited parts of the land, but he was sure they were still making some farmers very nervous. At least they'd come through the capital before, so he hoped they'd be able to talk before getting thrown out.

For now, though, he was looking for a place to camp. After their battle earlier in the day, Zakhin'Dakh wasn't really in good shape for long-distance flying, and of course Garkhen could probably use some actual rest without getting jounced around by wing-beats. The forest over there would suffice...

“Let's head over there, Zakhin'Dakh,” he said to his big friend.

The griffon nodded his head and turned, gliding in to a tired landing in a clearing.

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Just a bit of connective tissue for the week.

Chapter 7-10

Heedless, the monsters dove in, driving themselves onto the pikes. One pike snapped under the force applied to it, but that monster fell dead with the pike head, its head pierced through. The other two survived their insane dives, taking wounds to the shoulders instead. The soldiers dropped their pikes and drew short swords, forming up between the two spellcasters and the two Javni'Tolkhrah.

The two Javni'Tolkhrah—one a vaguely feline beast with bat-like wings, the other more reptilian—sprang at the soldiers. One of the men was borne down by his foe's weight, screaming as it tore at his face. The other two soldiers managed to fend off the other with their swords, in spite of its frenzied efforts to reach those they were guarding. Finally one soldier stabbed his sword through one of the Madness-Touched's eyes, ending its life.

The other, however, charged towards Garkhen... or more accurately, towards the pack on his back. Unable to force himself to move, the half-dragon could only watch as it leaped at him, claws outstretched. It impacted him with a great crash, knocking him on his side as it bit at his pack.

Then came a loud shriek-roar, as Zakhin'Dakh dove from above on the remaining monstrosity. Garkhen gritted his teeth as his armor withstood another impact, glad for its impossible toughness once again.

The huge griffon made short work of the distracted beast, then pushed its corpse aside to check on his little half-blue dragon friend. Garkhen was unconscious (again), but breathing.

Almonihah landed just then, looking over the scene. He saw that the Javni'Tolkhrah were all dead, nodded, and then turned to Zakhin'Dakh.

Keep watch here. I'll see if the walls still need help, he said in Great Eagle.

The big griffon nodded as his friend took off again. Almonihah flew back towards the wall, noting that he didn't hear any further shouting. As he neared he could tell that all the Javni'Tolkhrah he could see weren't moving, which he took to be a good sign.

He came in to a landing near where the Guard Captain was ordering about some of his men. He looked over at the half-dragon, his face contorting into a mask of anger.

“GET OUT!” The Captain shouted. “Leave my city! Take that accursed amulet and never come back!”

Without a word, Almonihah took off and flew back towards his friends.

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This was a hard chapter for me to write. I knew, when I neared this point in the story, that it had to happen, but I hadn't really planned out the how, which turned out to be a problem. But it's done now. 

No post this week

Between homework and wanting to goof off after homework (etc. etc.) I just haven't put together enough of a post to bother putting up here.

So instead, look at this new picture of Garkhen! :) http://varaann.deviantart.com/art/Clash-of-Light-and-Dark-558135301

Chapter 7-9

Zakhin'Dakh didn't fully understand the danger of the amulet... but he knew his friends thought it was bad, and that was enough for him. As soon as his first target was dead, he took off again, trying to catch another of the Javni'Tolkhrah. Unfortunately, those that were still alive were mostly the fastest among them, and it looked like he wouldn't reach any of them before they got where they were going.

Gritting his teeth, Almonihah forced himself to move, to aim, to fire. The angle and distance were only getting worse for hitting his targets, but there was no way he'd catch up to them. But he had to stop them, of that he felt certain. So he stood and fired, ignoring the shouting on the wall behind him.

Most of his arrows missed or caused only minor wounds, but one managed to cut part of one of the beasts' wings, slowing it. Zakhin'Dakh saw this and angled his flight slightly, managing to catch up to it. So focused was it on its goal that the huge griffon caught it completely off-guard, which made it easy prey for his talons.

But four more Madness-Touched still flew on. They turned slightly and dove, angling towards a building near the courthouse... and then there was a huge explosion of fire. One more of the monstrosities dropped from the air, but the other three continued their dive.

Archivist Maritha watched them with fear clear on her face. She was no trained battle-mage—she'd learned the classic fire spell as much out of tradition as anything else, with no expectation of ever using it. And now... well, she had only prepared for casting one. She heard Garkhen clanking out of the building behind her, but she doubted in his condition he'd be able to do anything.

Garkhen gritted his teeth as he called on Bahamut. He knew he was still drained from his past efforts, but there was no longer a choice. He threw up a ward... in midair.

The first Javni'Tolkhrah slammed headfirst into an invisible wall, and Garkhen groaned, falling to his knees as the effort to maintain the spell-prayer drained what little energy he'd managed to recover. He dropped the ward, and the Javni'Tolkhrah dropped also, clearly killed by the force of its impact, but three more followed it.

Almonihah swore under his breath as he ran. He'd already lost sight of them, and he didn't know what had happened with that explosion. Probably the mage had some magic, but the lack of more explosions didn't seem like a good sign to him. 

As the Javni'Tolkhrah descended, Garkhen tried to force himself back to his feet, to summon forth the energy for another spell-prayer... anything, but he could not. Next to him, Maritha was desperately chanting one last spell, though he knew not what it was. It was all he could do to force his head up, so that he might at least gaze upon his foes as they fell upon him.

Maritha finished her chanting, and held up her hands. For a moment nothing happened, but then a chair flew out of the open door behind them. Then another, and another, followed by a table and various other pieces of furniture. They flew into the air and started beating on the descending Javni'Tolkhrah. While it didn't stop them, it did slow them down, as they tried to evade the assorted objects trying to strike them.

Then came the clatter of armor as a trio of soldiers came around the corner. Hastily they ran over to the pair, readying their pikes awkwardly to face the diving monsters.

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I forget how long combats take to write sometimes. Particularly when I'm not writing a lot at once.

Chapter 7-8

The guards on the walls looked rather nervous at having a giant griffon land behind them. Sheepishly, Zakhin'Dakh waved at them, but that didn't seem to calm their nerves.

“He's with us,” an officer called out. “Keep your eyes on the threat!”

Again Zakhin'Dakh took off, flying up to see what was coming. He screeched softly in surprise at the sight—even more Javni'Tolkhrah than they'd fought in the Madlands, charging and flying towards the walls of the city in a disorganized horde. Not the kind of thing for a single griffon to go charging into. Instead he circled above the walls, waiting for the right chance to strike.

Almonihah reached the walls just as a voice cried out, “Fire!” He didn't take the time to run up the stairs, instead leaping into the air, taking a couple flaps of his wings to reach the top of the wall. Then he brought his own bow to bear, blasting sizzling arrows into the mass of Javni'Tolkhrah rushing at the walls.

They were close now, or at least their vanguard was. They'd only grown more disorganized as they'd charged, and by now those that could fly were a few hundred yards in front of those who could not. Most of the archers were focusing on these ones, and a couple fell before they reached the walls.

Now Zakhin'Dakh saw his chance, for they were completely ignoring him. He flew up higher, then dove on one of the largest just as it reached the wall of the city. It tried to dodge him, but that only brought his true target in reach—its wing. He plowed into the wing with all his might, snapping bone and tearing the flesh. It tumbled from the air, smashed into the wall, then dropped to the ground, dead. Zakhin'Dakh narrowly averted a similar fate, the tips of his wings tapping bows and helmets as he flew over the wall.

In spite of the casualties, there were still a good half-dozen of the Madness-Touched that still lived to fly over the wall. They ignored the guards, instead heading towards...

“Zakhin'Dakh! They're headed for th' amulet!” Almonihah shouted. He turned and continued his barrage of arrows, quietly praying that none of his stray shots landed on someone in the city.

The big griffon shrieked a challenge as he attacked the nearest monstrosity he could reach, one with eagle's wings like his own but a body much more like a giant warthog's. It tried to slash at him with oversized tusks, but it was smaller than Zakhin'Dakh, and he soon brought it to the ground.

In the confusion, the ground-bound Javni'Tolkhrah had neared the walls. By now the Guard Captain had asserted control over his men, and he shouted, “Pikes!” Just in time, the guards turned back outwards, polearm-equipped men bracing their weapons as the most agile of the Madness-Touched leaped up onto the walls.

In this they succeeded mostly in impaling themselves upon the weapons... but even in death, they brought misery. One with a stinger sprouting from its back impaled its killer back as it died, both dropping to the ground almost at once.

Another... exploded.

The detonation had such force as to knock men off their feet more than a dozen yards away, including Almonihah. The half-bronze dragon was thrown entirely off of the wall, and he reflexively opened his wings as he fell. That bought him a softer landing, but he still felt bruised and dazed as he shakily got back to his feet. Behind him he could hear the shifting of stone and men shouting, but he put it aside. Whatever else happened, he had to stop those flying Javni'Tolkhrah from reaching the amulet. 

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Apologies for the late post! Hopefully it was worth it.

I didn't realize this chapter was going to be so long. Maybe I should have split it up...