First Encounter

Tronjheim was unlike any city Raye had seen before. Positioned at the bottom of the cavernous hollow in Farthen Dûr, the city expanded up its walls in levels upon levels of floors and delved deep underground in a maze of tunnels. Tronjheim was lit by mirrors, which reflected sunlight from the top of the mountain down into the city streets. But despite this impressive feat of engineering, the city seemed to always be in constant twilight.

But all of this paled in comparison to the Isidar Mithrim. Raye was captivated by the enormous, glowing jewel suspended high over Tronjheim. The Star Sapphire deserved its name—it was like a rose-shaped sun trapped within the mountain.

Raye could feel Auraine's warmth against her back even through the thick canvas and continued to feed the dragon images of the amazing city, much to the dragon's delight. While Auraine greatly enjoyed the images Raye showed her, they only made her that much more anxious to escape her hiding place.

I want to see it with my own eyes!

Raye tried to placate the dragon with more sights of the city, but Auraine was insistent.

Yaela said we no longer needed to hide once we had reached the city.

As if called by Auraine's words, the elf rode up beside the wagon. Seeing her chance, Auraine asked, Can't I throw off this filthy tarp now?

The elf looked genuinely remorseful, but replied firmly, "Not yet. We are not far from the heart of Tronjheim and King Orik's full protection. I beg you to wait just a little longer."

Raye could feel the dragon's rumbling breath through the canvas as she huffed dejectedly. I will wait.

As Yaela dropped back to the rear of the caravan, Auraine asked, How much longer until we reach this heart?

Raye did not have a clear view of the road ahead from her seat in the wagon bed, so she leaned forward to tug on the hem of Aedan's shirt.

He turned around, eyebrows raised. "What is it?"

"How far are we from the heart of the city?"

Aedan glanced toward the front of the procession and then turned back to Raye. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'the heart of the city,' but it looks like we're headed toward that big, stone building over there. It'll probably be another twenty minutes or so."

Auraine growled quietly so only Raye, Aedan, and the sleeping Rhugar could hear. Nevertheless, her expression of annoyance shook the whole wagon.

Aedan sighed heavily as Rhugar stared to squirm again. "It's going to be a long twenty minutes isn't it?"

###

The throne room was empty except for King Orik, Haimon, and his dragon. A messenger had just left after reporting that the elvish Riders were on their way down from the dragonhold and were expected to arrive shortly. The hall was veiled in deep shadow, and the roughly chiseled stone faces of past monarchs watched silently from their niches.

Orik sat on the black marble throne, glowering at the entrance to the hall as though in a trance. Off to the right of the throne, Haimon stood with his hands clasped behind his back. At his side, sitting primly with her tail tucked around her forepaws, was his dragon, Koranna. She had recently begun her second growth spurt and was now about equal in height to her Rider. She was completely snow-white from nose to tail with the exception of a slight grey tint to the scales along the ridge of her spine. In the near complete darkness of the hall, she shone as though lit from within.

How much longer?

Haimon shifted his weight. Not long.

Koranna turned her head to face him, holding her nose a little higher in the air than was natural. Haimon was used to it by now, but to a stranger her eyes were startling at best and terrifying at worst. The pupils were an incredibly pale grey so that they appeared to be the same color as the whites of the eyes at first glance. If one watched Koranna closely they would soon discover that it was impossible to hold her gaze—her eyes either stared straight into nothingness or wandered at random. It was then that they would realize the truth: the snow-white dragon was blind.

Haimon, of course, had realized this flaw immediately after Koranna's hatching, though it often took others a while to notice. The dragon was not awfully impaired by her blindness; her sense of smell and hearing were so developed that they largely made up for her lack of sight.

Nevertheless, she took great pleasure in the memories that her Rider shared with her. She would never see the world with her own eyes, but she could experience it through Haimon's.

In the long, dark hall, a sort of vague sound—more vibration than noise—disturbed the quiet. Only Koranna could hear it at this distance, and thus by default so could Haimon. The dwarf's eyes snapped up to the double doors at the far end of the hall.

Koranna said, Wagons. Two of them. Footsteps. Many dwarves and… something else. Like a dwarf, but heavier.

Haimon answered her unasked question. Humans. However, he did not have a memory-image to show her. I've never seen one before either.

###

The wind inside Farthen Dûr flowed in a spiral current from the open top to the base. Fírnen led the way, leaping out into open space with his wings spread wide and then gliding down with the current. Arya had told Kyran to follow them closely and not to fall behind. Kyran refrained from saying that she was being over cautious in regard to Az Sweldn rak Anhûin. He didn't dare anger her and miss his first chance to fly with Vindroth.

Vindroth approached the edge of the Isidar Mithrim, his claws grasping for purchase on the gemstone. Ready?

Kyran took a deep breath and hung tight to the spines on Vindroth's neck. Ready.

The purple dragon bunched his powerful legs and leaped out into the air. For the brief moment when Vindroth's wings were not yet completely unfurled, they plummeted a good twenty feet. Kyran felt his stomach lurch as he fought back panic. But then Vindroth caught the wind, immediately halting their free-fall. He soared with the current, following after Fírnen.

Even though he could not see the dragon's face, Kyran knew Vindroth must be smirking as he asked innocently, I thought you said you were ready?

And you call that a smooth takeoff? That was nowhere as graceful as Fírnen's.

Vindroth huffed. Well, he's had years to practice.

Kyran smiled and patted Vindroth's neck. The lowest level of Tronjheim was already coming into view, and when he looked down Kyran could see the figures of dwarves walking in the city's streets. There was an unusual cluster of figures around one of the city's central avenues. Dwarves lined the edges of the avenue, but the actual road was empty except for what looked like a parade of sorts.

The wind current bore Vindroth and Kyran in a circle, temporarily blowing them to the other side of the mountain. As they came back around, lower to the ground now, Kyran could make out the procession members. There was an outer guard of dwarves and a few more within the inner guard, but the figures riding at the center of the procession were all at least twice as tall as their dwarven guards. There were also two wagons, which Kyran recognized as elven-made.

"It must be them." Kyran muttered.

I don't see any dragons. Only fleshy two-legs.

Kyran frowned. It has to be them. But where—

And then he saw it. The second wagon in the procession was loaded down differently from the first. Instead of boxes and sacks, all it contained was a single tarp-covered cargo.

Vindroth, could that be…?

The purple dragon sniffed the air, and turned his face toward the procession. The smell is faint.

But it is a dragon.

… Yes.

Ahead, Fírnen soared out of the air current and toward the city. Vindroth hurried to follow, flapping hard to catch up. Fírnen bent in one of his wings to execute a sharp arcing turn and then dived straight at the ground. Vindroth followed, more cautiously this time, watching for the place where the emerald dragon would land. After making one more spiraling circle, Fírnen dove to land beside a long, stone hall that dominated the center of Tronjheim.

As Vindroth landed beside Fírnen, the engraved stone doors of the hall rumbled open, pushed from the inside by eight uniformed dwarves (four were needed for each massive door). Kyran was surprised to see Moira and the curly-haired woman standing in the shadows just inside the doors. The woman—Angela, Kyran reminded himself—was chattering away animatedly while Moira listened politely.

Arya unstrapped herself from Fírnen's saddle and slid down to the ground. She approached the doorway, Fírnen padding after her.

As Kyran dismounted, one of the dwarves approached Arya, bowed deeply, and said, "Queen-Rider."

Arya bowed to the dwarf and as she straightened up, the dwarf turned to Kyran. "Young Rider." The dwarf bowed to the young elf. Kyran hesitated for a moment, irritated that the dwarf had not addressed Fírnen or Vindroth, but a look from Arya was enough to restore his manners.

As the dwarf guided them toward the open doors, Kyran glanced back at the road behind them. The procession was far out of sight, but he still felt a strange sort of pressure in his chest.

Fírnen growled softly beside him. Come, hatchling. The others will join us soon.

Vindroth brushed up against his Rider on his way to the entrance. Yes. Their smell is growing stronger. And there is another.

Kyran turned and began walking beside Vindroth into the darkness of the hall. Another?

She is inside.

The dwarf led the Riders down a long corridor. Moira and Angela fell into step beside Arya. Upon reaching a wide entranceway (large enough to fit even Fírnen's bulk), their guide bowed once again and left them, disappearing into one of the many smaller doorways lining the edges of the hall.

The entranceway opened onto steep stairs that led down into the depths of Tronjheim. Kyran could smell the rusty scent of old stone rising from the stale air below. Fírnen and Moira started down the stairs as Arya turned to Kyran and Vindroth. "The next dwarf you shall meet is King Orik. You must show him the greatest respect."

"Yes, ebrithil."

Of course.

Arya smiled at the two of them. "Ready to meet them?"

But before Kyran could figure out an answer to her question, Arya had disappeared into the darkness beyond the entranceway.

Vindroth touched his nose to Kyran's back, nudging him forward. You move more slowly than a tortoise.

Kyran nodded, brows furrowed, and walked forward into the darkness.

###

The caravan had stopped just inside of a pair of massive, engraved stone doors, and the dragons had finally been allowed to leave their hiding places. Auraine did so with a somewhat exaggerated show of relief; flapping her wings as if to check that they still worked (and startling some of their dwarven escorts in the process, Aedan guessed somewhat intentionally).

Rhugar was happy to be allowed back into the light again lay contentedly in Aedan's arms. He was so docile and obedient now that Aedan almost couldn't believe that he was the same dragon who had thrashed and squirmed the whole journey through the streets of Tronjheim.

Aedan stood next to Raye, watching Meurig and Seren talking with one of the dwarven gate guards. When one of the dwarfs pointed toward the open doors, Meurig gestured angrily, but Commander Seren touched the red-bearded man on the shoulder and shook his head. Meurig stepped back, arms folded over his chest. After a bit more time negotiating with the dwarf, Seren looked back at the caravan and beckoned the Riders forward. As they approached the gate, Seren said, "Our hosts will be escorting you from here on into the throne room. Lady Yaela will also be joining you."

"But not the Nighthawks?" Raye asked. Aedan glanced at the caravan, where some of the guards had already begun to settle down to wait. Idris was leaning back in his saddle, sharpening one of his knives, while Carwyn searched through his saddlebags and pulled out his pipe.

"No, we will be await your return outside. Tronjheim is King Orik's realm; to send foreign guards into his own throne room would be a sign of weakness on his part and lack of trust on ours. No matter how innocent our intentions may be."

Aedan looked back to where Meurig slouched against the side of a wagon, recalling his warning about a hostile dwarf clan. "Will it be safe?"

Seren followed his gaze and smiled. "Meurig is the type to show excessive, though honest, concern. I assure you, Dûrgrimst Ingeitum is quite capable of protecting you from any threat."

"Dûrgrimst Ingeitum?"

Yaela answered, surprising Aedan. He hadn't heard her walk up behind him. "One of the thirteen dwarven clans. 'The fire smiths.' Since long ago it has been the ruling clan, and with their current Grimstborith reigning as king they retain their longstanding dominance."

"Oh."

Auraine seemed anxious to enter the gate, swaying her head ever so slightly from side to side. Beside the golden dragon, Raye stared into the darkened hall, frowning slightly in concentration.

Seren nodded to Yaela, "Lady," and turned to Aedan. "We will be waiting."

As the dwarf guards ushered him toward the doorway, Meurig caught Aedan's eye and gave him a mock salute. The young Rider rolled his eyes, but smiled as he followed Yaela into the dark hall. When he crossed the threshold, the heavy doors rumbled shut behind him.

Raye and Auraine walked close behind the leading guard, and Aedan had to trot to catch up. Matching Raye's stride, he asked, "What's got Auraine so excited?"

"She can smell the others."

"… the other dragons?"

"Yeah."

There are three. Two males and one female.

"Wow, you can tell that just from scent?"

Auraine snorted, but seemed pleased. Of course.

Rhugar shifted in Aedan's arms agitatedly and twisted around to clamber up onto his shoulder. There he perched, sharp silver eyes trained on the passage ahead.

Their small procession was silent after that, until they reached a wide entranceway at the end of the hall. Their escorts bowed to them and then disappeared back into the shadows.

Once the dwarves had left, Yaela turned to face her young charges. "When we greet King Orik, you must bow to show your respect for our host, but not too deeply for you are Shur'tugal, beholden to none."

Yaela led the way down the stairs. Raye and Auraine followed side by side, the golden dragon's claws clacking on the marble steps. Aedan brought up the rear, hands deep in his pockets. Some of Rhugar's nervousness seemed to have rubbed off.

When the sound of Yaela's footsteps changed, he looked up to see that the staircase had leveled off ahead, though the room beyond was still obscured by a rock formation hanging from the ceiling above the stairs. The silver-haired elf paused at the foot of the stairs, waiting for Raye, Aedan and the dragons to descend.

Raye and Auraine reached her first (Aedan noticed Raye's eyes go wide at the sight of whatever lay beyond the stairs) and stood stiffly by her side. As Aedan stepped down beside them, he looked up and saw a massive emerald. No, wait, that's—

Aedan tried to hide his shock when he realized what it was that he was really looking at. A massive, green dragon waited at the end of the hall. The beast was easily three stories tall and large enough to fill the whole of the Bainards' courtyard. Glittering emerald eyes held Aedan rooted to the spot, and Rhugar's claws dug hard into his shoulder. It took great effort to tear his eyes away from the dragon, but once he did, Aedan noticed the rest of the hall's occupants.

There was another dragon, much smaller than the first, but still at least twice as big as Auraine, with scales the color of lilacs. A dark-haired boy stood beside it. There were also two elvish women—one with hair the same starlight sheen as Yaela's and another with black hair. Next to the black-haired elf was a familiar curly-haired woman, who smiled wide at the sight of the newcomers.

Yaela began walking toward them, and as Aedan followed, he realized that there were others even deeper into the hall. Barely visible beyond the emerald dragon's bulk was a roughhewn throne of black marble where a dwarf wearing a golden helm inset with rubies and diamonds sat motionless. Tucked into the shadows on the right side of the throne, was a snow-white dragon (a little smaller that Auraine) with another dwarf by standing by its side.

They had now drawn up even with the small crowd assembled beneath the throne. Up close, the emerald dragon towered over them, and Aedan felt Rhugar's convoluted feelings of awe, fear, and respect for his elder.

Before he could get a closer look at the others gathered before the throne, Aedan noticed Yaela smoothly sweep into a bow, saying, "It is an honor, King Orik. Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr. Un du evarínya ono varda."

Out of habit, Aedan translated the greeting in his mind as he mimicked Yaela's bow (though not as deeply). May good fortune rule over you. Peace live in your heart. And the stars watch over you.

Still bent over, Aedan watched as Yaela turned to the black-haired elf-woman and bowed deeply (even more so than she had for the dwarf king).

"Arya Dröttning."

Dröttning means… wait—the queen? Queen-Rider Arya? Aedan stared up at the elf-woman. She was dressed in plain leather leggings and a dark-green silken tunic, much the same as Yaela, with no adornment besides a thin silver circlet on her brow. I thought she'd be more… well, different-looking.

As Aedan straightened up, Angela caught his eye, smiled, and winked.

"It is good to see you again, spellcaster, and to meet you at last, young Riders… and young dragons."

The dwarf king's voice echoed in the empty hall, resonating in a way that conveyed a sense of majesty to his words by sound alone. King Orik did not look quite as Aedan had expected him to either. Firstly, he was younger, with a full beard and twinkling eyes where Aedan had expected a wrinkled visage and snowy hair like Carwyn's. And second, like the Queen-Rider, he wore no jewelry besides the golden helm and the marble throne he sat upon looked uncomfortable—more rock than chair.

There was an expectant silence after King Orik's greeting, but Aedan had no idea what his reply should be. Feeling flustered, he opened his mouth to speak (with no idea as to what he was about to say) when Auraine suddenly spoke up, saving him from humiliating himself.

The honor is ours, Your Majesty.

Rhugar hummed in agreement.

The dwarf king nodded solemnly in response, though something about his eyes gave off the impression that he was about to break out in laughter.

Angela piped up, "Now that we all know Orik, I think we should introduce ourselves, hmm? Because I have no idea what half of your names are."

King Orik must have already been acquainted with the witch, because he didn't even bat an eye at her outburst. Instead he grinned, saying jokingly, "Shall we go in a circle?"

"Good idea! I'll start. I'm Angela, wielder of Tinkledeath, known as Uluthrek to some. I'm a witch." The curly-haired woman smiled at them, waved, and pointed to the black-haired elf-woman. "You're turn, Arya!"

Aedan marveled at how unfazed the elvish queen was as she replied, "I am Arya Dröttning, called Queen-Rider."

And I am Fírnen. The green dragon's voice rumbled through Aedan's mind as if he had spoken aloud.

The other elf-woman inclined her head slightly, saying, "I am the spellcaster Moira. I have come from the citadel to escort the young Riders."

Aedan turned expectantly to the next person "in line," the dark-haired boy, and noticed his pointed ears for the first time. As though he had felt Aedan's gaze, the boy turned to look at him. Aedan was startled at first by the force of his grey-eyed stare; though the elf's face remained perfectly neutral, something about the elvish boy's eyes reminded Aedan of Lady Mauve's disdainful gaze. Instinctively, he glared back at the boy, unblinking and defiant.

The elf seemed a little startled, though it might have just been Aedan's imagination, because his expression barely changed at all. When he opened his mouth to speak, Aedan expected a challenge, but all the elf-boy said was, "I am Kyran, son of Glanduil and Nlaea, of Osilon."

The lilac-colored dragon flashed its teeth, seemingly for emphasis. I am called Vindroth.

Aside to Aedan, Rhugar muttered, Don't like purple-scales.

Raye was up next, and though she looked nervous to Aedan, she spoke clearly. "My name is Raye. I was born in Teirm."

Auraine shifted her shoulders just enough to send ripples of light sparkling down her scales. I am Auraine.

A ghost of a smile crossed Yaela's lips as she said, "I am the spellcaster known as Yaela."

Suddenly, all eyes were on Aedan. His throat felt uncomfortably dry as he spoke. "I'm Aedan B—ah… son of Athelea."

Rhugar flicked his tail lightly against Aedan's back. I am Rhugar.

There was a brief silence, and then a voice spoke up from beside King Orik's throne. "I am Haimon, of Monrael."

Aedan looked over at the blonde-haired dwarf, who despite having a beard seemed considerably younger than his brethren who had escorted the caravan through the streets of Tronjheim. The young dwarf also seemed unusually pale, even by cave-dweller standards, in a way matching his snow-white dragon's coloring.

The white dragon tilted her head to the left as she addressed them. My name is Koranna.

In the moments of silence after Koranna's introduction, Rhugar reminded Aedan of the Nighthawks cooling their heels outside of the gate. Now we have a story to tell them.

Five dragons at once? Bran really will faint this time.

###

The hall fell into silence after their brief round of introductions, and Raye stroked the scales on Auraine's shoulder to hide her skittish energy.

Auraine leaned against her hand. The elf-boy is staring at you.

It took real willpower to keep from sneaking a glance at the young elf and his purple dragon. Why?

I do not know yet.

Finally King Orik broke the silence. "It gives me great pleasure to welcome you all to Farthen Dûr. We have already begun to restock and augment your caravan for the coming journey to Hedarth; however, I hope you will enjoy Tronjheim's hospitality to the fullest while you are here."

The Queen-Rider smiled softly. "We thank you for your generosity."

"Oh, but it comes at a price I'm afraid."

Raye felt her stomach drop at King Orik's words. What kind of price could he mean? Gold? Or could it have something to do with the dwarf clan Meurig mentioned?

"My people are anxious to see the new Riders and to host dragons once again in our halls." Raye looked up in surprise at the dwarf king's grin. "I must insist that you join me this evening for a feast in your honor."

A feast? For us?

Auraine's eyes lit up. Do you think they'll have chicken?

AllMyLovelyReviewers: Sorry for the little bit longer wait guys! I hope the little bit longer chapter made up for it :) As always thank you so much for the comments! I really appreciate the support. SPOILER ALERT: For those who seem to be craving a bit more action, look forward to the upcoming feast. It's going to be a killer party. 'wink wink'