SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 9

He already knew that Larien was not at the tavern since he had just been there talking with Earnest and Carl. Neither one of the men had seen Larien at all today. As he was leaving the tavern, Caro and Cat tried to get him to come over to their table and share a drink with them. He just waved in acknowledgement that he heard them but kept on going, focusing on his mission – to find Larien. He walked swiftly to her home trying to avoid the people on the street out for their walks after their evening meals. Some called out to him but again, he just waved and continued on his way. He was in no mood to talk to anyone tonight except Larien. He didn’t care if he appeared rude. If truth be told, most people didn’t expect him to stop and talk unless he had a special agenda, but they were neighborly people so always made the effort to engage him in conversation. The news he had was important and he needed to talk to her NOW!!

He reached her place, a bit out of breath in his rush to get there, and impatiently knocked on the door. There was no answering, “Come in, the door’s open”. He beat it again, this time with his gloved fist. Still, he could hear no returning response. He pounded on the door a third time as he shouted, “Larien, are you there? Answer me!” Nothing! Maudit, où est-elle? Then he thought that since it had been such a nice day, maybe she was out in the garden. There was still a bit of sunlight left before the moon rose. He strode around to the side garden door and knocked. Again, only silence greeted his efforts. He jiggled the door and it opened on squeaky hinges. Yes, she had spent some time working in her gardens by the look of that one area over close to the house. But, there was still no Larien. He was definitely not happy that he could not find her and his patience was running thin, VERY THIN! Maudit!!

He turned from the garden and went back out the way he had come in thinking he needed to remind her to keep the garden door locked and fastened securely. It should never be so easy to open as it was for him. It wouldn’t be a good thing if someone could walk in and surprise her, especially with the news he had in his possession. He had to stop and think. Where, where did she go? He was always a man of action and this not knowing where Larien could be did not sit well with him. Then, like a thunder bolt, he knew. After gardening, she would probably go to the glen! Oui, c'est ça!

With renewed purpose, he hurried through the alleys of the Keep and made his way out the castle gate, his dark cape flowing out behind him in his haste. He was one of the few people that knew the way to Larien’s glen, and more importantly, could go inside to see if she were there. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he would be able to enjoy the warmth of the night air. The sun had finally set and the moon was now slowly rising in the east. The moon was full and bright and not the best type of moon to hide his activities or anyone else’s for that matter. There were few clouds left in the sky to make their shadows on the ground or hide the moon with their presence. The moonbeams were fingers of light filtering through the leaves, leaving small patches of brightness to help him see his way through Wildon Woods. Not that he needed any assistance. He spent much of his days as a boy exploring these woods and now, as a man, used that information to his advantage. To say that he knew them like the back of his hand was an understatement. Not much moved in these woods that he didn’t already know about in some way, shape, or form. That’s what made him so good at his job. He wasn’t being boastful thinking that either; it was just the plain and simple facts. He and his brothers practically lived in these woods growing up. They climbed many a tree in their time and scared many travelers on their way to the Keep! If he weren’t in such a hurry to reach Larien, he might have taken a bit longer on his journey through this home away from home. But he did have a mission of importance. He finally reached the special location that held the magical portal which would lead him into the glen. He said the incantation and stepped into Larien’s paradise.

Her glen was a beautiful place and he was glad that Larien had this retreat to turn to for solace. He let his eyes get used to the light reflecting off the water as it was brighter than the light from the woods. He listened intently for sounds of her in the water but he heard nothing. He quickly looked around the glen area, taking it all in – the moss-covered rocks, the flowers, and the waterfall. Next, he looked up at the big boulder that was Larien’s thinking rock. He quietly took the steps, careful that his sword didn’t clang against the boulders as he walked up them, sure that he would find her there. Ah, yes, there she was! Finally he had found her! He didn’t realize that he had been holding his breath until he saw her. She was lying on the boulder as he suspected. Her back was towards the waterfall and she lay there on the rock with her left arm and hand cradling her face like a pillow. Her eyes were closed. He could tell by her measured breathing that she had fallen asleep. Larien must have changed her clothes after her swim if the pile of clothes lying on the rock was any indication. He stood there looking at her, his eyes moving slowly over her still body. The moonlight caressed her face turning it to alabaster. Her long dark eyelashes curled and rested on her cheeks. He knew that she had fallen asleep after her swim; her long, silky dark hair was still slightly damp and curling around her face and shoulders, spilling across her right hand.

He took his gloves off and secured them in his belt as he knelt next to her sleeping body. Larien looked so peaceful that he hated having to wake her. As he knelt there, he debated with himself over waking her at all. It would be so easy to leave her to her dreams and not wake her to the rude reality of the news he needed to share. He also knew that he could only tell her and let her be the one to talk to the Council. His feud with the Council was still on-going and he refused to speak directly to them. She would have to be the one to tell them. It was best that way as they wouldn’t like what he would say to them should he let his reserve down. And looking at her now, he still could not believe that someone wanted her dead! What could she have possibly done to anger someone to feel that they needed to rid the earth of her existence? Larien smiled even in sleep, her rosy lips slightly curled at the sides. He reached his fingers out to lightly brush the curls from her cheek and place them behind her ear so he could better drink in this vision before him. He never tired of looking at her either awake or in repose. There were not many people that affected him like this or that he cared about as much as he did for this woman. He would gladly give his life for her if he needed to do so. His touch, while feather light, was still enough to disturb her slumber and she slowly opened her eyes. Her smile was instantaneous, genuine, wide, and, oh so inviting.

“Hello, Mark.” Larien’s voice was husky from sleep.

“You know I do not go by that name anymore, my Queen,” he chided her softly.

“Yes, I know. You prefer Deamon.” There was a bit of sadness in Larien’s eyes as her right hand reached up to touch the side of his face. He moved his head slightly so he could kiss the palm of her hand as she continued, “But here in the glen, I think of you as Mark.”

Deamon knew that while they were in public, she did call him by the name he preferred and rarely as Mark. However, when they were in private, she often reverted back to his given name. Since Larien held such a special place in his heart, she was the only one he allowed the liberty of calling him by that name. He asked – no commanded – that all others call him Deamon or Master of Whispers. That was his name now and that was his profession. It suited him. It also allowed him certain liberties because people were too afraid of him to come out and ask his intentions or take him to task. There was only one that knew his true heart and was brave enough to question him and that was Larien, his Queen, his lady.

Larien knew that Deamon did not come to converse in idle chit chat. She sat up and looked at him, asking, “What is it you want to say to me? I know that you have something very important to say. Otherwise, you would have waited until later tonight or tomorrow to talk to me. But since you are with me here, it must be of an urgent nature.”

Deamon sat next to Larien as he wrapped them in his cape. Larien was grateful for the warmth it offered as the night air was beginning to cool down and she had gotten a slight chill while she slept. Deamon was quiet, just looking at the pool with its reflection of the moon rippling in the water. Larien waited, knowing that he was gathering his thoughts. After so many years together, she knew the signs very well. So, she sat close to him, absorbing his warmth and closeness in silence which was broken only by the sounds from the waterfall.

“You know, Larien, I would not come to Galeran if it were not important that I talk to you privately.” Deamon’s voice was low and hesitant, trying to find the right words to tell her. It all seemed easier when he was thinking about it. He was worried how this would affect her and her Angels. However, since there was no easy way to say it, he just started talking. She rested her small hand on his leg to encourage him to continue.

Deamon cleared his throat. “I have grave news. Several of my informants have told me that a very large army is fast approaching our Keep. And, from what I hear, it is not the normal size army of just a few hundred or so that we usually fight or have fought in the past. They are but a couple of days walk or so from our borders, Larien, and are rapidly approaching. My spies do not have anything good to say for this army so I think it is safe to say that they are not coming to ask us to aid them but have more sinister plans in mind.”

“When you say a very large army, Deamon, how many do your informants think there are?”

“I have not received a specific number of warriors but my understanding is more in the thousands. All I know is that they are marching on the Keep from the South, the East, AND the West. If it were not for the Tonathium Mountains, I’m sure that we would be surrounded on all four sides by them,” Deamon replied.

Larien started to talk and Deamon interrupted. “But that is not all.”

“There is more than being attacked on three sides by thousands of warriors?” Larien couldn’t think what could possibly be worse than this news.

He waited a brief moment, looking down at her hand resting on his leg, took it in his own, and kissed it before he quietly replied. “They have orcs in their ranks! “

“Orcs? Are you sure?” Deamon nodded. He felt the slight squeeze of surprise she gave his hand. Larien continued, “Yes, I see your point.” Larien closed her eyes and sighed. “They are definitely not here to chat with the Angels about anything. I will call our warriors and we will meet the advancing armies on the plains outside Wildon Woods.”

“I’m afraid we are too late for that, my Queen.” Larien looked at Deamon’s face, trying to tell what more he had to say that was worse than the news he had already given her. “They are too close to be intercepted and fought on the plains. As I see it, the Castle will have to defend itself. We have no other choice.” Deamon’s voice sounded resigned. The Angels have not had to defend its walls in a very, very long time, probably several decades or more. They all knew stories of other towns and villages that didn’t fare well when battles came so close to their castles. There usually was more damage to the castle walls and the occupants the walls protected. Those battles became more personal, more costly, and bloodier. It was seldom favorable to the villagers who became enslaved to the marauding army, giving up their freedoms to serve the new master of the castle.

Larien sighed deeply. Her bodied shuddered. His arm tightened around her. She looked at Deamon and could read his concern over the news he had just given and how it would affect her personally. She also knew that if the approaching army was anywhere on the plains, they would be within sight of the Keep very, very soon. Even the difficulties of transporting catapults and maneuvering thousands of warriors across the plains would not deter their march. The Angels didn’t have much time to waste.

“Do you think we need to go to the council tonight, Mark, or will the morning be time enough?”

“It should be tonight, Larien. The Castle Angels need time to prepare their weapons and secure the Keep. You need time to warn the dwarves and elves. We will also need to get the hot tar and catapults ready. Remember, we are going up against orcs and will need everything in our arsenal available and at the ready.”

“Then it seems we have no choice. Let us return to the Keep.” Larien knew what needed to be done. “We have a lot of planning ahead of us.” Deamon stood and reached down to help Larien stand. He looked deep into her eyes and could see the concern there for her Angels. He could not read anything in them to give any indication if she knew more than what they just discussed. He drew her to him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him for a few seconds, his cheek resting against her hair. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, kissing her softly and longingly before letting her go. She picked up her clothes as he retrieved his cloak and they left the glen together – in silence.

What started out as a perfect beginning to the evening was not turning into a perfect ending. They didn’t talk much on their way back to the Castle, each deep in their own thoughts. Larien was thinking about the Council meeting that would be called and the discussions that would ensue. She hoped that they would be able to keep the battles for the enemy and not have to battle each other. With the armies coming into the Angels’ domain, the council members might have their own interests they want to protect and she would need to make sure that whatever they decided was best for the Angels as a whole and not just to specific individuals.

Deamon was thinking it was probably a good thing that Larien could not read his mind now. She used to be able to when he and the boys were younger. It had always amazed him how she knew who was responsible when he and his brothers got into mischief. It wasn’t until he got older that he knew and understood her ability even though there were times when he was an adolescent that it was awkward that she could. She stopped being able to read him when he saved her life that first time; that was when their relationship seemed to change. Because she could not channel into his thoughts now, it made it easier for him to keep the biggest piece of news that he had gotten from his spies to himself. He still could not believe what he had been told even though his source was usually very reliable. It seems that someone in one of the three approaching armies wanted the Elf Queen, his Larien, dead!! Deamon was worried about who would try to take Larien’s life and how and, more importantly, why. He was going to do all in his power to see that it did NOT happen – even if it meant dealing with Zigaroth himself!

created originally 6 September 2011

SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 6

Morning found Bartholomew well rested. He said good bye to Shadow and made his way down the mountain and to the Castle Angels’ Keep. As he walked, he felt a nervous energy building inside. He had waited so long for this moment to happen and now that he could physically see it in front of him, his stomach was in knots. What if all that he knew was wrong? What if the little conversation he had with Kirey were just the ramblings of an old man like Yerik? What if this whole quest was nothing but searching for a bone in a graveyard? What if this Carl person will not be able to help him?

Each step brought Bartholomew closer and closer to the tavern where he would soon learn some of the answers…or so he thought. The village was already starting to wake up. He walked past the blacksmith’s. That was strange! At first glance, it looked like two women were working the fire and anvil. That seemed a strange job for females but he shrugged his shoulders. Who was HE to say what was normal anymore…he had a dragon! He walked further down and around a corner and there, on the side of a building, hung a sign that read, “Diova Gruss Tavern”. He stopped abruptly and so did his heart. He was here. Bartholomew took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Then he put one foot in front of the other, walked to the building, and opened the door.

Purpose

The sun was so bright that when he first opened the door to the tavern, he was blinded and couldn’t see the darkened inside. He sensed that everyone turned and looked at him. As Bartholomew let the door close behind him, his eyes became accustomed to the dim interior so that he could make out those patrons scattered about the tables. There was a serving girl standing next to a table, laughing at something the man had said. There was a colorful bird along the back which looked iridescent in the sunlight from the window. There was a young man, probably about his age, standing behind the counter. There were two gentlemen sitting at a table finishing their meal. He had the feeling that his arrival caused all conversations to end abruptly.

Bartholomew nodded his head in a single greeting to everyone at the Diova Gruss. He was not surprised that conversation quit the minute he arrived. He was a stranger in their midst. Trying not to let it affect him, he walked up to the young man at the counter. “Hello, there. I was wondering if there was a man named Carl here? I believe he is one of the owners.”

Earnest looked up from what he was doing and he said, pointing to the table with the two men who were finishing their meal, “Yeah, he’s over there. You looking for work? We don’t have any openings at the moment.”

“No, I was told to come here and see him. Thank you.” Bartholomew approached the table. He still didn’t know which man was Carl. One of them looked to be in his 50’s, slender build with strong, capable hands that showed he was not afraid of work. His face was kind and when he smiled it reached his eyes. His hair was graying and not overly long. The other man looked to be older, maybe in his 70’s with white bushy eyebrows and longish white hair. He was sitting there smoking a pipe that looked vaguely familiar in shape. He had seen one like it recently. It looked exactly like the one Kirey was smoking in Morridin. He gave a little shake of his head trying to erase the memory and approached the table.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I was sent here to talk to a man named Carl. Would one of you be him?”

Carl looked up at Bartholomew and said, “Hello, Butch. Why don’t you sit down with us?”

Holding the bowl of the pipe in his hand, the older man pointed the tip at Bartholomew and asked, “So, boy, you hungry?” He made a slight wave and a nod to Earnest without waiting for Bartholomew’s answer.

Bartholomew didn’t know what to say first. First, his father’s name was Butch although that was a nickname that he had back in Dragon Mountain that a few older people used. But why would this man call him by that name? Second, the older man greeted him just like Kirey did yesterday, even to the same jester with his pipe. And, third, he looked very familiar! He said the first thing that came to mind, “Sorry, my name is Bartholomew.”

Carl looked hard at him and after a few seconds said, “Nope. You look like Butch to me. Come, join us. I am Carl and this here is Zigaroth.”

Bartholomew walked around the table to one of the vacant chairs. As he sat down, he looked more closely at Zigaroth. Zigaroth just sat quietly, smoking his pipe, the bowl in his hand. He took it out of his mouth and again used it to point at Bartholomew and stated, “Yes, I agree with Carl. You are the spitting image of Butch. So much easier to say than Bartholomew, too.”

“As you wish, sir. That is my father’s name and the villagers often called me by that name too.” Butch’s smile included both men. “However, my business is with Carl.”

“Well,” Zigaroth replied again emphasizing with his pipe, “Actually, your business is with both of us, Butch.”

Earnest brought some food and placed the plate in front of Butch. “Here’s the lunch special. The bread and pastries are Carl’s pride and joy so make sure to tell him you like it!” Butch was hungrier than he thought he would be so started eating almost immediately. By the empty plates in front of the two men, they had already eaten and he didn’t need to wait for permission. None of the men talked but let Butch fill his belly.

Carl watched him eat and waited until he had a few bites remaining. Then he looked Butch in the eye and stated, “So, Zigaroth tells me that you brought Shadow with you. After you finish up here, I want you to take us to him.”

Butch’s heart stopped, the last forkful poised half-way to his mouth! His face turned white as the fork fell from nerveless fingers and clinked against the pewter plate! He felt panic well up inside him and at the same time, his heart started racing again!

Zigaroth looked at Carl and said, “I think we better go. This is not the place for this conversation. Come, boy, follow us.” With that, he rose from his chair and started walking, not once looking back to see if Carl or Butch were following him.

The three men left the tavern retracing the steps that Bartholomew, or Butch, had just walked. Zigaroth was leading the way as if he knew just where Shadow could be found. Butch was not sure what to think anymore. Zigaroth looked so familiar and, if he didn’t know any better, would have said that they had met before today. Carl had a familiarity about him that he could not place, either. It wasn’t just in looks but in his mannerisms, the way he was walking and carrying himself. They reminded Bartholomew of his father in Dragon Mountain. He thought that by coming to the Castle Angels, he was going to find answers to the questions he had about dragon riding and the big war. Now, Butch was finding himself with even MORE questions that needed answers! He felt himself in quite a confused state and it was a very unsettling feeling which he didn’t like.

Zigaroth took them right to the cave where Shadow had been left. As Shadow came out and went over to Butch, Butch took off his glove and put his hand to Shadow’s head. Then the strangest thing occurred while they stood connected. It was a familiar sound accompanied by air movement. Both Butch and Shadow looked up towards the sky. Descending from the sky from higher up the mountain was a gold dragon. The gold dragon landed, walked up to Carl, and greeted her with his hand placed between her eyes.

Butch was speechless; his eyes big and his mouth wide open.

Carl turned and looked at Butch and simply said, “We are going riding. Mount and follow us.”

Both men mounted their dragons and were taken up, around, and over Tonathium Mountain with Carl and Baroness taking the lead. Butch and Shadow followed the older pair. It was quiet riding through the sky together, the only sound being the flapping of the wings of two dragons. The sun would be setting in a few hours but Butch wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t really thinking anything other than, maybe, just maybe, he would get some answers to his questions. After all these years of hiding Shadow, worrying over all the “what ifs”, he might have found someone he could talk to, relate to. And with that realization, his heart soared even as Shadow soared with Baroness. Butch did not pay attention to where they went or how long they rode together, just that it was two men with their two dragons.

Butch realized the ride was over when he saw Zigaroth standing exactly where they had left him. Both men landed their dragons, touched their hands, and turned to walk towards Zigaroth. Carl was the first to speak.

“Zigaroth, we must get to the inn immediately and sound the alarm. I spotted an army approaching from the south and it is of good size. We must send the Call to Arms to the Angels. The army is almost upon us so we do not have time for any delay.”

Then Carl looked at Butch, “Butch, we are about to be engaged in battle. Tell no one of what just happened with the dragons. We will talk soon. However, we must act swiftly and have no time to waste.”

All three men, walked swiftly back to the Keep. Carl rang the alarm as the sun set.

created originally 1 June 2011

SALVATION FOR THE FALLEN Chapter 5

Since the old man was already gone, there was no sense staying in Morridin. He would have enjoyed talking more to Kirey, as it seemed like Kirey had some of the information that Bartholomew needed. Perhaps he could come back to Morridin, find Kirey, and ask him the questions. But for now, he needed to find the Tonathium Mountains, the Castle Angels, the tavern Diova Gruss, and a man named Carl. And in that order. He also had the feeling that all would be found north of Morridin.

Before Bartholomew left the village, he planned to stop at the Inn of the Sleeping Dragon for some guidance as to where to find the Tonathium Mountains. The way that Kirey talked, Bartholomew felt that he was close to finding out the answers to ALL of his questions. He felt the excitement grow inside him, giving him butterflies in his stomach.

He was so busy thinking of his good fortune that he walked into a middle-aged lady carrying some packages. He was jolted out of his revelry and exclaimed, “I’m so sorry, ma’am. Please forgive my rudeness! I didn’t see you.” Bartholomew was embarrassed with himself and helped pick up the food that dropped from her arms.

“That’s quite alright, dearie. From the looks of you, your mind was somewhere else indeed.” She was very understanding and didn’t yell at him for his clumsiness. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

With excitement showing in his voice, he gave her the packages and replied , “I am journeying to the Castle Angels and a tavern called Diova Gruss. I believe it is on the other side of the Tonathium Mountains. I was just thinking of popping into the Sleeping Dragon for directions and any other information I might need.”

“Oh, dearie, no need to do that.” She turned and pointed to a distant mountain on the horizon to the north of Morridin. “There’s your Tonathium Mountains way over there. Just on the other side of them, you’ll find your tavern. Think you need to get to the Keep first though. Good people over there. You’ll like it! Here, take this apple with you. It will be a nice pick-me-up for your travels.”

Bartholomew apologized again for his rudeness and thanked her for the apple. He put it away and started the final leg of his journey. He was excited as he walked. He judged that it would take him about two days walking to get to the mountains. He wasn’t sure how close the Castle Angels were once he was on the other side. He felt safe in thinking that it might take about four or five more days at most to get there. And THEN he would be on his way to his answers.

He set a fast pace for himself, his energy level high with expectation. The wooded area north of Morridin was much the same as that to the south – the trees’ giant skeletons of branches without leaves jutting out of the earth, the ground scattered with broken and decaying branches. Just walking through the place gave Bartholomew the heavy feeling of pain and despair and hopelessness. He was very glad that it was daylight and not the night hours that took him through this place. The boulders, now covered with mosses, that were three times his size and jutted out of the earth, told their story of the upheaval that took place so long ago. That took his mind back to the Tree of Sorrow in Morridin. Never had he seen such a sight in his life. There were no writings that he had read that prepared him for a sight such as he saw. The dragon form was so large and precise but in the form of a tree. It made you wonder what type of magic was used and how strong it was. It made him wonder if the curse on these lands could ever be lifted.

He kept track of the sun and knew that he would need to find a resting spot before too long. Nightfall was approaching and so would Shadow. He didn’t feel comfortable having Shadow join him in this place with all that it represented from the War of the Dragons. He figured he had another few hours before the sun set, not a lot of time when you didn’t know what was ahead of you or where it would lead. He ate the apple as he walked, not wanting to take pause in his journey.

However, Bartholomew started noticing little changes as he went along. There were more green grasses and ferns. He was startled when he heard his first bird calling, having gotten use to the only sounds he heard which were those of his own footsteps on the forest floor, snapping twigs in his rush to get to the mountain. He knew that he must find cover for Shadow soon. He also knew he didn’t want it to be here. He hoped that he would be clear of this forest before much longer.

After a short while, he suddenly burst clear of the forest. And, there ahead of him, were open fields dotted with boulders and trees green with leaves. There, within his sight, jutting majestically into the sky were mountains. Bartholomew knew that he was close for there were the Tonathium Mountains. The racing of his heart had nothing to do with his push through the forest and had everything to do with reaching his goal. Taking quick stock of the lay of the land, Bartholomew veered to the east where he saw some large rock formations. Maybe this will be a good place to spend the night and wait for Shadow. There would be a bit of protection for them both while he thought of how he was going to get to the other side of the mountains looming in front of him. As he prepared for this friends arrival, he let himself think back on his encounter with Kirey, who seemed to be a strange man. Bartholomew was still not sure how Kirey was able to answer his questions when he didn’t speak them out loud. Were they obvious questions that anyone would have asked? No, he didn’t think so. The fact that Kirey mentioned the forest as being cursed, how many would have thought that? Why couldn’t it have easily been because of some other type of disaster such as fire or something? Who would automatically have chosen a curse? And then there was the comment made about Shadow. Bartholomew would bet on his life that he had NOT mentioned Shadow to Kirey at all. He was so use to keeping Shadow a secret that he was not about to bring him up at a first meeting of a stranger. There were just too many things that Kirey seemed to know about him that it gave him pause as to how and why.

The sun was now setting, her fingers of pinks first coloring the soft clouds in the skies. As she set further in the west, the sky changed from pinks to amethyst to yellows to orange, each color bleeding into the next. It was a beautiful site and Bartholomew was glad to see such a glorious color display especially after the gloom of the land he just traversed. It gave him the calm feeling of acceptance, that what he was doing was right and that it was worth the unhappiness of leaving his family to seek his destiny. As he stood watching the setting sun, he noticed a large object in the sky, sharply outlined by the background of the sun’s colors. He knew that it was Shadow. The emotions from seeing the Tree of Sorrow were still strong within him and he needed to connect with Shadow, needed the reassurance that he was safe, that they were both a part of the other. Bartholomew knew that should anything ever happen to him, that would be the end of Shadow, just like if Shadow were to die, then so would he. The lives of dragons and their riders were as linked in life as they were in death. The intense feelings he had experienced were not only for the dragon that lost its life there in Morridin, but also for the life of the rider that was lost. He closed his eyes and offered a prayer to the gods that he and Shadow would be spared a death such as that and they would have a long life with each other. The words no sooner left his lips and he opened his eyes when he saw Shadow land. He removed his glove and walked over to his companion, his hand extended, and touched him. He was at peace again.

While he sat eating his bread thinking about the rest of his journey, he stopped in mid-chew. He had it! He knew just how he was going to get on the other side of the mountain. How utterly simple it was! He was a dragon rider after all and he did have a dragon. He and Shadow would fly to the other side tonight and that would put him that much closer to his dream. He completed his meal and shared his idea with Shadow. The moon was now in its place in the night’s sky and he would fly under the cover of relative darkness. Bartholomew made his preparations, mounted Shadow, and together they took off, soaring in the night sky with the moonlight as their guide. It felt wonderful to be on Shadow’s back again, the wind at his face and the power of his dragon between his legs. This felt right! This was home! This was how he wanted to be!

They soared up and over the Tonathium Mountains and onto the other side. There, in the moonlight, he saw his first glimpse of the lands of the Castle Angels. The castle stood majestically between the mountains, her lands stretching out to the base of the mountains which surrounded and protected her. He immediately found a peace and calm cover him. He was not expecting such a feeling. As he looked down from Shadow’s back, he felt strangely at home. They flew a bit longer, neither one eager to end their flight. Bartholomew had seen some old caves on the mountain side so they went there to spend the night. Then in the morning, he planned to go down and find the tavern and the man named Carl.

Unknown to Bartholomew or Shadow, their night ride had not gone unobserved. There were two people who had seen their arrival on the Castle Angels’ side of the Tonathium Mountains, each with their own thoughts about the events that were about to come.

created originally 1 June 2011