Sorry for the long wait, but at least this is done now. :P
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Booster
The Downfall of Dragon City: Part V
"Should we hide?" Marianis questioned as the sound of dragon footsteps grew louder.
Marianis, Spynn, Kitt and Reepyr stood side by side, each one of them staring ahead. All around them on all sides, were mounds of broken stone and other rubbish. The so called path before them was actually made and maintained by the daily passage of hydrags. Thanks to them, they had a clear route to travel on. It angled directly towards the Shadow Track, and, as Kitt estimated, would cut their walking distance in half.
At first, they had all been worried about walking on the path, for fear of meeting a hydrag. As Reepyr pointed out, there were many of these paths in the Old City and hydrags tended to keep to these paths. But he had also pointed out that it was abandoned, and hadn't been use for quite a while. They could find no evidence of footprints, and in several places, rubble from the heaps around them had fallen onto the track. Had hydrags frequented this path often, these would be instantly moved in their own fashion. For many of those chunks were too big and blocked nearly the entire path, leaving too small a space for any hydrag to fit through.
With no time to waste, they agreed to chance the path. And, it seemed to have worked. Had they not taken the path, would they have missed Lance and Parm? For if Kitt's guesses were correct, they were headed directly towards them.
The footsteps grew louder, the thudding echoing through the dismal atmosphere. Kitt heard a faint, distant crash as one or both of the dragons slammed into the ruins.
But try as hard as she might, there was no hope of being able to spot what was coming in time. The path ran in a straight line before them for about fifty dracometers, but then abruptly made a nearly ninety degree turn to the left. The piles of wreckage and rubble prohibited any view of what may be coming around the corner.
Reepyr looked around and scuttled to a large boulder, from where they could easily hide behind and remain unseen by whatever was coming. He placed a hand on it, inspected it closer, and looked back to the others. "Here."
"What, why?" Kitt asked as she noticed Spynn and Marianis start towards Reepyr. "What if that's Frachsun and Lance? He needs our help with Parm."
Marianis turned to Kitt. "And if that's Parm behind him? We don't have any weapons. Surprise is our best chance."
Reepyr nodded. "Then we can see if Parmon's binocs can really interfere with the wraith signal."
Kitt nodded in agreement. They were up against a wraith without any weapons. Soon, they all were huddled once again behind something. Spynn turned the binocs over in her hands since the others had let her carry them from Mid City.
"And these turn on how?" She asked. Kitt reached for them and took them.
"Erm, here," she said. Pressing a button Parm had clearly labeled, 'initiate entity,' the binocs flashed to life. "And to interfere with a wraith's signals…hmm…."
They all crowded close as the footsteps grew louder. Reepyr looked at the many buttons and switches closely, many of which had no label. "'Disengage device,' 'galvanize transmission?'"
"'Self-destruct,' what?" Spynn said as she read one. "Self-destruct?" She repeated, subtly shocked. Marianis just shrugged and then moved to the edge of the draconian boulder, gingerly putting her hands on the wet, mossy surface. She peered around the edge.
"Do you see them yet?" Kitt asked without taking her eyes from the binocs.
"Not yet," Marianis replied and settled herself down in her new position as the lookout.
"Move," Spynn hissed as they crowded around Parm's binocs. Reepyr glared at her as she flapped her hand at him.
"What about, 'defer paraphernalia lock,'" Reepyr suggested.
"I don't think so," Kitt replied. As they conversed about the many buttons, Marianis' voice jolted them all.
"I see them, I can see them!" She said, both excited and nervous, tempted to point but knew such an act could ruin their surprise.
"Who, Lance?" Kitt asked at the same time Reepyr said, "Parmon isn't too close, is he?"
"Both of them," Marianis replied. She gasped, "Parmon is…he's a wraith!"
"Well how much longer do we have?" Reepyr said angrily, though he knew it couldn't be too long since the turn was only fifty dracometers away. Marianis was undaunted by his tone.
"Less than a minute at the speed they're going," she guessed. Kitt could easily hear the thundering dragon feet. Tiny rocks and pebbles around them began to shake with the steady beat. A loud roar by Cyrano caused them all to scrutinize the binocs faster. "Come on, haven't you found how to…."
"We're looking!" Spynn shouted and reached out a finger to press a random button.
"Shut up, before Parm hears you!" Kitt hissed and pulled the binocs slightly out of Spynn's reach.
Reepyr suddenly plucked the binocs from Kitt's hands and pointed to a button. "What about, 'interfere with a wraith signal?'" He asked. They all stared at the conveniently labeled button which was half hidden on the underside of the device.
"Well, press it or something!" Spynn said. Kitt glared at her for using her loud voice, but Spynn merely glared back at her.
Reepyr held the bincos and moved to Marianis. "Stand aside," he said as politely as the moment allowed for. Marianis moved back and stood so she could see over the boulder. Kitt and Spynn did the same. As Kitt poked her head above the rock, she gasped and cringed inside.
Frachsun was running as fast as his legs could carry him, urged onward by Lance. Behind him thundered Parm and Cyrano, both inky black. Parm's red eyes gazed ahead in a frenzied state. Kitt lowered her head, afraid he might see her. Reepyr crouched near the edge and pointed the binocs at them.
"Lance is in the way, and when he passes by us, I'll have a split second with a clear shot before Parm races past us as well," Reepyr explained as he was poised for action.
"Why don't you wait till Parm races past?" Spynn whispered.
"Because," Reepyr whispered back, "he may notice us and attack us. And we won't have the rock to hide behind, we'll be trapped against it." He looked back at the others. "What are you doing? Get down!"
Spynn rolled her eyes and dropped down. Marianis took one last glance at the dragons, then lowered herself as well.
"Come on, Fracshun," Lance panted in a worried voice. They were close enough now that Kitt could hear the heavy breathing from their exertion. Suddenly, they blew past the rock, and Kitt was relieved to see them unhurt. Lance whipped his head around and looked at them in astonishment. Reepyr held the binocs out before him and focused on Parm. Kitt saw the binocs light up in use and heard Parm bellow with rage.
Unexpectedly, Cyrano screeched into view, sliding along the ground from his high speed. He came to a rest beside the boulder and lifted his head, roaring. He sat on the ground as the signal from the binocs interfered with the signal from his gear. Reepyr gripped the device tightly.
Parm grabbed his head and screamed in a dry voice. "Look!" Marianis cried as Cyrano weakened visibly and started to lower his body to the ground. "It's working!" Kitt watched intently in abounding hope. She heard Spynn move.
Spynn had stood and was looking in Lance's direction. Frachsun had stopped and was breathing heavily. Marianis stood as well and Spynn and she started to head to Lance. Kitt prepared to follow.
Parm howled with rage and glared at them all. "Desist!" He yelled, spooking them all. "Where are you going?" He yelled to Spynn and Marianis and pointed to them as the wraith effect weakened Cyrano and him. Parm reached down to his saddle and grabbed something. His body blocked what it was. Kitt's heart raced as he finally brought it into full view.
Parm pointed the flash stick at them, setting it off. As Kitt covered her eyes, she dimly heard Reepyr grunt. Then she heard a dull thunk, as if something had fallen to the sandy ground below.
"Reepyr, did you drop…." Kitt left the sentence unfinished as she heard Spynn utter an ear splitting scream.
----------
Word stood silently as Moordryd dismounted and approached cautiously. A slight breeze ruffled his robes. Vertigo did not touch him as he stood as straight as a statue on a narrow walkway nearly a mile above the moving gears of Work Town. Up here, there was no escape route for Moordryd. Word would be able to confront his son in peace, and Moordryd could only leave if Word allowed it. His raptor eyes never left his son.
Moordryd paused as he rubbed Decepshun's nose, whispered softly and glared at his father once in a while. Then, with smooth strides, he continued on toward his father. Word took a wraith remote he held in his right hand, and made them move aside for Decepshun to pass through. Word motioned with his hand for her to leave. With his intent clear, Decepshun took one last look at Moordryd, and then bounded off, to where Word had no idea.
Moordryd stopped and watched his dragon leave. The wraiths filled in the gap they had created for Decepshun and snarled at Moordryd. Moordryd turned and walked towards his father.
Word kept his small amount of surprise within him as Moordryd came closer. His eyes were full of unwavering determination. Word sighed. What was going through his son's head?
Moordryd stopped at a good distance from his father and stood with crossed arms. Word was the first to speak. "Moordryd."
Moordryd grimaced slightly. "Father."
"Moordryd, I must know," Word said as he waved around his clawed hand, "why do you not…agree with my plan? You've supported me countless times before, I gave you fair warning about what I was intending to do…."
"Fair warning? You call a few minutes a fair warning? I still don't know if all my crew members are safe. Most of the communications are down."
"You," Word pointed a claw at his son who sneered in response, "should have had a better communication system with your crew. Perhaps freeing Swayy wouldn't have been so arduous."
"You…you saw?"
"Of course. I was watching you. The whole time." Word looked at his son who seemed rather nervous.
"The whole time?" Moordrdy questioned and let his arms drop to his sides, which, in Word's opinion, was a sign of unease. Which Moordryd should be.
"Yes, everything," Word said in a silky voice. "Which brings me to my next question. Why did you feel a sudden need to help Kitt Wonn?"
Moordryd unconsciously stiffened and Word's penetrating gaze noticed. He smiled faintly. "She…I…," Moordryd stuttered, trying to think of a good explanation or excuse. Then Moordryd saw Word's bemused smile. Kicking himself mentally for almost reverting back to his old ways of his endless attempts to please his father, Moordryd squared his shoulders and looked Word directly in the eyes once again. "I helped her because now you have one less wraith to control."
"Trying to destroy my army now, are you?" Word nearly chuckled. Moordryd fumed. Word stopped his chortling and took a threatening step towards his son, decreasing the distance Moordryd had put between them. Moordryd balled his hands into fists. "And here I thought you supported my plans. You've never shown any abhorrence to the wraiths before. Why the sudden change of mind?"
"Because, they weren't in control of the city before."
"This bothers you? You didn't seem so against my plans before, when I had human wraiths from Slithercorp and tried to gain control of the city with them."
"They didn't actually take over the city," Moordryd scoffed.
"Don't remind me," Word sighed and rubbed his forehead.
Moordryd, feeling he was on a roll, continued without hesitation, "I've never really thought about how much my life would change if you controlled the city with your wraiths. Everything I've worked for is gone. I've worked my scales off for my crew and to get into the academy. Now it's…it's just gone."
"Moordryd, Moordryd," Word said in an understanding and mocking tone, "what else did you expect?"
"I don't know…."
"Exactly," Word spat, "did you know what you were doing when you stole dragons for me all these years? Did you know what you were doing as you lured the Dragon Booster into his tomb?"
Moordryd flinched inwardly at the last attack. He wished his father hadn't referred to the Shadow Track as the Dragon Booster's tomb. "I…."
Word interrupted him quickly, "and do you know what you're doing now?" Moordryd narrowed his eyes as his father fixated his own grey eyes upon him. "Moordryd," he said as he stood tall against the dwindling hope of Dragon City, "will you fight against me and my wraiths? Are you going to side yourself with the rest of the citizens of Dragon City, fighting for a hopeless cause such as freedom? Or, rather, will you stay by my side as I control the future?"
Moordryd replied grimly, "I neither side with you, or Dragon City. I have my own plans."
"I was afraid you might say that," Word sighed, "I suppose your 'plans,' include eradicating my new army and my newly gained power?" Moordryd watched him carefully as he slowly nodded. Word barked a short laugh. "Who will help you? Your crew?"
"Not just them," Moordryd said. To Moordryd, Word didn't appear at all fazed or worried by his retort.
"Who else?" Word sneered at him. "Armeggeddon?"
Moordryd was caught off guard and stood blinking stupidly. "How do you know?" He finally blurted out.
"How could I not? Dealing with Armeggeddon is dangerous and extremely risky," Word said with all the authority of a parent, and Moordryd glowered back with all the authority of a rebellious son. "He will use you and drag you into his plans, and pay you no more heed than a speck of sand."
"I'll take that risk. And besides, how much more different would that be from what you do?"
"Moordryd, do not be a fool. If that is your stance, then you know what fate awaits you. You know what I do to my enemies."
"You'd treat me, your own son, just the same as…as a stable brat?"
"Yes."
"But…."
"If you are no use to me and against me, why do you deserve better? Because we are related?" Moordryd's outward determination and opposition began to fade away. His glare softened as his father's intensified. "Why should I waste time and resources on you?" Word continued, "why have I ever wasted them on you? You are just an embarrassment to the name of Paynn. When have you ever been otherwise?"
Moordryd was unable to come up with a suitable answer. Sure, he'd accomplished many things, but what had actually made his father proud to have him as his son? The only times Moordryd could recall had been destroyed as he had failed or messed up whatever he had been able to achieve.
"Moordryd, you no longer have amnesty from my wraiths." Word focused his eyes past Moordryd. Moordryd looked behind himself to the wraiths that still stood there, blocking the way off the footpath. Realizing he may not get off this walkway in one piece, he turned back to his father, who was watching him. "You have made the wrong choice…incompetent fool. No one stands in my way."
Moordryd gathered up his remaining determination. "Armeggeddon will help. You touch me, and you suffer his wrath."
Word's expression didn't change, but it was a complete relief to Moordryd when he didn't laugh in his face. Perhaps his father was afraid of Armeggeddon. Who could stand against him?
Word reached and replaced his wraith controller with an odd remote from his robes. Broader than the wraith remote, Word took it in two hands and waited. Moordryd reheated his softening gaze and glared at his father. Would he really…. Yes he would, he would give his son over to the wraiths. Moordryd forced down the feeling of depression and worthlessness, and looked at what his father held.
He was too curious to suppress the question his father waited for. "What is that?"
Word grinned evilly. "Watch." With his left thumb, he pressed a button and with his right hand, he flipped three switches. When nothing immediately happened, Moordryd looked around.
"What did that do?"
"Wait and see. It takes a while to shut down the city."
And as Moordryd followed his father's gaze at the city, Moordryd gasped. From their high location, Moordryd had a wonderful view of the events.
The streetlights, advertisements and every single bulb slowly dimmed and went out. Far off in the distance, the approaching darkness came at them like a plague. His father was shutting down the city, rendering all inhabitants blind. He was turning off the power.
The once magnificent scene of Dragon City, with all the homely lights and lit streets, was now gone. Soon the darkness washed over them. As all sight vanished, the screams came. From all around Moordryd wafted the sudden, terrified shrieks. Moordryd blinked his eyes and peered ahead, not able to see his father standing nearly five feet from him.
Moordryd looked up, and thought he saw the dark shades of grey light. Unfortunately, he was in the lower levels of Mid City, where the sunbeams never touched. Perhaps in the upper levels of Mid City, people would be able to see the light. But he was sure the darkness was suffocating everyone in the lower levels.
"Father?"
"Still here."
"Why did you turn off all the lights? How can you see anything?"
"Use your night vision on your helmet, if you cannot figure that out yourself."
Moordryd touched his helmet, as if realizing for the first time that he still wore it. Activating the night vision, his father appeared before him in a green-hued world. "How does tur…."
"Can you see without your helmet?"
"No."
"Can dragons see at all?"
"No."
"Then the Prophets are at a disadvantage. My wraiths, as a default, have night vision. The Prophets are no longer a pest if they cannot see. Everyone, human and dragon alike, will be easier to capture." Word surveyed the awesome aerial view through the eyes of a triumphant conqueror. Moordryd turned off his night vision. Though the darkness pressed all around him, bright spots of purple hurt Moordryd's eyes each time they appeared. For far in the distance, those were the mag-streams of the wraiths as they captured and attacked humans and Prophets, each one signaled the growing power of his father and the weakening of the city.
Moordryd closed his eyes so he would not have to see them, though his ears filled with the sound of the screams. War was brutal, and Moordryd didn't want is life to change this drastically. It had been a while since he had contacted Cain. As more screams echoed throughout the wasting city, Moordryd wondered how safe his crew really was. His father would undoubtedly invade Down City, and with his crew members dragon's all blind, how could they easily escape? Not counting the crew members who either did not have night vision on their helmets or weren't wearing them at the time.
Word turned from his scanning the city to look at his son, who's eyes were downcast and night vision obviously turned off. He frowned and looked past him to the waiting wraiths. Perhaps, after being controlled by one of them for a while, Word would let him go and see if his priorities had changed.
As Moordryd stood there, his mind filled with the perhaps imminent images of his crew's downfall. If he had no more amnesty toward the wraiths…surely his crew was in as much trouble as any other out there. Moordryd clenched his teeth. Was he giving up? No. He reached up with his left hand and activated his night vision again, his face full of resolve as he raised his head and saw his father watching the wraiths beyond him. He had come to accomplish something, and he would see it done.
His father smirked almost sadly, for what reason Moordryd could not fathom. His father's plans were well under way, victory seemed to be within his grasp and his meddlesome son would be soon dealt with. Moordryd tried to control his mounting anger as he glared at his father. He clenched his right fist and held it against his side. When he opened it again, it was full of black mag energy.
Word barely had time to gasp with surprise as his gaze was torn from the wraiths and focused on Moordryd. Moordryd shot the mag-push towards his father, hitting him square in the chest. Word flew backwards, dropping his large remote he had used to shut off the city's power. He landed twenty feet away and rolled to a stop in the middle of the pathway. Moordryd wasn't quite sure whether he was glad his father hadn't plummeted to his death below or if he was relieved that he hadn't.
Word groaned with irritation and rage as he lifted his head and stared in shock back at his son. Moordryd reached into his jacket and retrieved his mag-staff, feeling rather venerable without his energy drain whip. If only he hadn't left that behind! Now that would've been extremely useful. He could've drained his father's energy and render him helpless without really hurting him.
Moordryd took swift steps toward his father, extending his mag-staff as he walked. On this narrow pathway, he was temporarily safe from the wraith dragons, but he was also trapped unless he defeated his father.
Word quickly rose to his feet, and sneered at his son. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Stopping you," Moordryd replied without emotion.
"Do you honestly think you can beat me?" Word snarled and walked toward his son. Moordryd glared and never hesitated as he continued walking onward, holding his mag-staff in a tight grip. And as his father glared at him with such intensity, Moordryd hoped the growing sweat from his palms wouldn't cause his staff to slip from his grasp. He was up against his father, and any hindrance in the fight could be the end of him.
----------
Tyrannis Pax roared suddenly, not with fear or outrage, but with minute surprise. Mortis stared hard down the street ahead of him. "What? Word!" He snarled, for it could have been done by no other. Ahead, down the length of the street, the power of Dragon City turned off. It came towards them swiftly, one bulb darkening after the next. Soon the dark washed over them and raced off behind them. Connor turned and stared hard till the remaining lights in the far distance had gone off.
Tyrannis stood silently and listened hard for anything that might be creeping around unseen in the darkness. Connor felt unperturbed. His Dragon Priest helmet allowed him to see in the dark, and Connor gazed about. Looking ahead, he could see the distant sign of the drag-café. He urged Tyrannis slightly, and Tyrannis forged ahead through the darkness, placing absolute trust in his rider.
Soon, the heavy sign hung mere feet from Connor. Tyrannis Pax waited patiently as Connor swiftly signaled him to stop. Connor sat there, eighty feet in the air, parallel to the huge sign. It lay darkened like the rest of the city.
There was no sign of Word, but Connor knew he had been in this exact spot not long ago. Tyrannis suddenly rumbled deeply, alerting Connor that he had smelled and heard something below. Seeing a hunched form of a dismal human, blinking fitfully in the pitch darkness, Connor tapped Tyrannis softly on the head. "Down, Tyrannis," he said, and Tyrannis lowered his head, neither of them wanting to risk magging Connor down. The sudden bright glow of the energy would surely alert attention, and perhaps cause the human to run away in fear from the sudden appearance of an eighty-foot dragon.
Connor dismounted and dropped quietly to the ground as soon as Tyrannis' head was close enough to let him off without a sound. Connor gripped his staff tightly in his right hand and walked softly towards the human. He wondered why the human hadn't fled when Tyrannis first came. Indeed, the human should have heard Tyrannis' heavy footfalls.
But as Connor came closer and was able to see the man correctly, he found his answer. The man was glaring in the darkness, glaring towards his unseen foe. It was either foolish bravery or utter stupidity that the man did not run.
Connor stopped about fifteen feet from the huddled man. "Hello?" He called softly. The man jerked awkwardly and pressed himself against the wall he was leaning against. When he didn't answer, Connor said again, "I assure you no harm, and neither does my dragon."
The man peered in the direction he had heard Connor's voice. "Who are you?"
"Connor Penn," he said, for if this man had heard of him, he may possibly relax and make it easier for Connor to question him.
"The dragon breeder?"
"Yes. What is your name?"
"My name is not important, Connor Penn." He almost snarled. He slowly rose to his feet and held a hand to the wall beside him for support, more sure of himself now that he knew the supposed threat was not one at all. "How did you see me?"
"Most helmets have night vision," Connor answered, wondering why the man refused to give him his name. For what reason would he be worried if Connor knew his name? The man nodded, but before he could speak again, Connor continued, "how long have you been sitting there?"
"For a while. I'm not quite sure whether I should even try to find my way around or not."
"Have you seen a large dragon near here?"
"Why?"
"Because I am looking for someone whom I know was here not too long ago."
"Well, can you get me out of here safely?"
"What?"
"I may be persuaded to answer you truthfully if you could provide a helmet or a way to the Down City, perhaps." The man rubbed his chin, and Connor saw many scars scrawled across his brawny arm. He felt like strangling this man. This was not a time for bargaining!
"I cannot bring you safely to Down City," Connor grimaced, his dislike of the rugged man increasing. "And I don't have another helmet."
"Then I suppose I cannot help you. It would do me no good."
"Wait here then, if you have no intention of freely answering a simple question," Connor huffed and turned.
"Where are you going?" The man asked, growing worried. "You're not leaving, are you?"
Connor ignored him and walked briskly away. Tyrannis listened to his footsteps and was able to put a general direction on where he was going. Connor walked to a building which was situated quite closely to the drag-café headquarters. He pulled open the door. Inside were many types of gears and various objects arranged neatly on shelves. Connor wasted no time in heading to a certain room. What had attracted him to this building, was the fact that this was the main stables for the drag-café headquarters, where most workers here put their dragons while they worked in the huge building. Connor smiled faintly as he found what he was looking for. Extra or forgotten helmets. Connor seized one from many, and headed back to the man.
As he heard Connor's approaching footsteps, the man leaned forward intently from where he had sat down. "Tell me if you have seen the dragon, and I will give you this helmet." Connor said as he clutched the precious helmet in his armored hand.
"You found one," the sitting man said almost breathlessly. But then, in a sly tone, said, "then give it here."
"Tell me first."
"How can I be sure you have one?"
"How can I be sure you will tell me once I give it to you? Do I strike you as a dishonest man?" Connor asked.
"From what I've heard of you, not at all. Very well then," the man drawled, "I did see a huge dragon. Clearly a black dragon, it had two huge horns and was surrounded by wraiths. Does that help?"
Connor smiled with victory. "Yes it does."
"Why are you looking for Word Paynn? As I understand, you and he are not on the best of relationships."
Connor shook his head slightly from the sudden feeling of surprise. He ignored the man and walked to Tyrannis Pax. "Tyrannis," he said and Tyrannis lowered his head and Connor mounted him.
The man scrambled to his feet. "What about the helmet?" He asked.
As Tyrannis stood fully once again, Connor looked down at the man. "Tell me the direction he went, and I will throw down the helmet to you."
"Throw it down? What kind of a dragon do you have?" The man stumbled in Tyrannis' vague direction.
"Where did Word Paynn go?" Connor asked with a deep voice of authority.
The man sighed and pointed with his outstretched arm. "That way, away from the drag-café building."
"Thank you for your cooperation," Connor had to force himself not to sneer.
"Don't mention it."
With a perfectly placed throw, Connor tossed the helmet down to the ground as Tyrannis lumbered quickly away, depending on Connor's firm hand for guidance through the dark city. Connor wanted to be out of sight from the man before he was able to get the helmet on and see the retreating Dragon Priest.
As the thundering footsteps faded into the bowels of the city, the man grumbled and walked carefully around, heading to the spot where he had heard the helmet fall. But just what kind of dragon did Connor Penn have? He kicked the helmet accidentally with his foot, and he bent down to pick it up. Placing it on his head, luckily it wasn't a bad fit, he activated the night vision.
Malto glanced to where Connor Penn had run off to. Then he turned and started the long trek down to Down City. Perhaps he would find a way to free his dragon from the clutches of the wraith gear. He smirked in the pressing darkness. He would do more than that.
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The Prophets immediately froze as the darkness enveloped them. Tryaust waited in the sudden silence, feeling the slight wariness and unease from Jyme affect him as well. Distant and not too distant screams rose around them in a growing throng.
"What now?" One orange dragon standing beside Tryaust asked. Tryaust recognized the voice to be Eskhyrr's rider's voice. Sycundys hissed and whirled around from her position at the front and with threatening strides quickly advanced upon the dragon. The orange dragon backed up a few steps.
Sycundys shoved her way past Tryaust and stopped, staring at the darkness. She swung her head around, trying to locate the dragon. "I will tell you when I wish you to know," she finally said after nearly a minute of overpowering silence from the other Prophets. Eskhyrr wisely kept quiet, not wanting to give his location away.
"But shouldn't we know now?" Came another voice to the right. Tryaust could easily hear Sycundys' rapid intake of breath in her growing annoyance. "For all we know, we could be surrounded by wraiths."
"But how could the wraiths see in the darkness?" Another questioned, close to the second.
"What if the humans can see?" Came yet another from the back of the pack. Tryaust could very nearly feel the rising doubt and panic in the Prophets. This was undoubtedly the Controller's work, and any Prophet would think so until proven otherwise. And the Controller must have a plan, shutting them all in the dark like this. Tryaust shifted. A plan which they could not see.
"If the humans can see, then we will deal with them." Sycundys said with irritation and growled softly. The Prophets quieted. Tryaust heard Sycundys' voice come through the dark again. "Propheci will meet us here soon. Then we will…"
"Hide? Run?" Eskhyrr demanded, growing more confident by the other Prophet's objections. Tryaust was sure Sycundys smiled then, now that she had a pinpoint on Eskhyrr's location. He heard her softly saunter over to him in a wraith-like manner. Eskhyrr faltered, and grew quiet as Sycundys stopped near to him.
She growled lowly. "Your insolence is both tiresome and…."
"Arguing amongst ourselves, are we?" The horribly familiar voice drifted towards the group, cutting Sycundys off. "Has the value of leadership declined so much, Sycundys?" The hiss of a cunning voice slithered towards them through the dark. Every dragon froze as they heard dragon steps approach. Tryaust blinked ineffectively in the dark, unable to discern even a phantom of a shape. But there was no doubt in anyone's minds, dragon or human, of who drew near the group. Propheci.
As Word gazed at the wraiths in thought and half opened his mouth to pronounce Moordryd's fate and force him to the wraiths, something large moving surreptitiously behind them caught his eye. The wraiths looked behind themselves and growled. Suddenly, before Word was able to get a clear picture, a gold mag-push instantly struck the walkway behind Moordryd, sending the whole thing into a violent shake. Word had readied himself quickly and dropped to his knees.
As the walkway once again steadied and Word was able to see a still, unwavering world, he looked to where his wraiths had been last. They were gone, and in their place stood a huge bipedal dragon. Word sneered agitatedly at the rider atop it. Mortis.
Word got to his feet, and glared at one of his arch rivals. But as Word stared him down, he realized Moordryd was not on the walkway. "Moordryd," he hissed quietly and glanced around as much as he dared without taking his eyes off of Mortis.
"Help me up," Moordryd's voice came from the edge. Word looked to his left and peered over the edge. Moordryd had not noticed the coming mag attack, and so had not been prepared for the sudden movement in the walkway. And with his night vision off, he had been blind and fallen over the edge. It was sheer luck that he had caught the edge with his right hand.
Moordryd turned his night vision on again with his left hand as he dangled a mile above Work Town. "Father, I can't…." Moordryd grunted and swung up his left hand and grabbed the edge with it.
Word made a small move to instinctively help his son, but reconsidered, withdrawing his barely extended hand. Bending down to help him would put him in a venerable position to any sudden attacks Mortis may throw. This was now a war, and Word would expect anything to happen. Dragon Priests were manipulative, and from Word's experiences, were not exempt from devious moves.
Moordryd heaved himself halfway onto the platform, and Word, deeming his son to be free from the danger of falling, focused his full attention on the menace before him.
"Word," Mortis barely moved as he addressed him in a clear voice.
"Mortis," Word cut in and stared defiantly up at his nemesis, "if you have come to fight or to talk sense, as you call it, into my head, then you are wasting your time." Mortis studied him silently as Tyrannis Pax blinked futilely in the darkness.
"I shall never be wasting my time if it is spent in trying to help people, or in this case, the entire city," Mortis said, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. "I won't stand aside and let you control the city and enslave innocent humans and dragons."
"I do not expect you to," Word stated.
"I hope this can be resolved without violence," Mortis said, but as Word nearly rolled his eyes Mortis said again, "but I can see that I have the upper hand here. Where is your dragon?"
Word smirked at him. "Not far off, I may assure you of that."
Connor breathed deeply and prepared himself for what he was about to say. Word waited almost expectantly. "Word Paynn, you have never been one to easily change your mind, even if reason is involved. I cannot say how many lives will be saved if I…if I kill you now."
Word's expression did not change. He studied Mortis as best he could through his night vision. Moordryd finally clamored onto the walkway and stood slowly, realizing that he could be in the middle of a soon to be horrific fight.
Mortis glanced quickly around, perhaps for some sneaking wraiths or the frightening Abandonn. Even as he did so, he was surrounded by the golden glow of his dragon's mag energy. Mortis turned his expressionless mask to them and threw a mag-push onto the walkway.
Word had expected this from Mortis, and still slightly surprised that his wraiths hadn't returned yet, had run on the path towards Mortis, readying himself by filling with Abandonn's black mag energy. He couldn't have Mortis destroy the path and send them falling to their doom. The mag-push Mortis had fired blew up right before him, sending him reeling back.
The entire walkway shuddered from the force, and if Word had not been near the center, he would have surely been thrown off. A section of the path before him was gone, the ends smoking slightly. Word sneered at Mortis from his place on the path, then grinned spitefully as he heard the return of his wraiths and the arrival of new ones.
Soon they appeared in Word's night vision, snapping at Tyrannis' flanks and feet. Tyrannis roared and swiped blindly with his arms.
"Give it up Mortis, and leave. More are coming." Word called.
Mortis would have thrown another mag-push, a deadly accurate one to destroy Word once and for all, but the scream of a wraith, one with extra control gear, only allowed room for one last glare at Word before Tyrannis turned and fled through the shadows. No words passed between them, yet the intent was clear. Mortis would finish him off later. Word grabbed the wraith remote from his robes and commanded them to stay. He wanted to enjoy Mortis' death. He wanted to be close and purposeful in his demise, and he could not be from his present position.
The thundering of Tyrannis' retreating steps soon faded away. Word cackled. He was still here. But someone else, he was soon to note, was not.
"Moordryd?" Word questioned the darkness. He quickly made a full sweep of the walkway with his eyes. Save for him, it was empty. Word staggered to the edges and looked at them. Unlike before, Moordryd was not grasping at them with his hands. "Where are you?" He hissed.
Then he looked down to Work Town, a mile away. The noise of the revolving gears sounded like a somber death chant. Could Moordryd have really fallen…. Word flinched outwardly as one gear suddenly slowed with the effort of trying to continue in its endless cycle as something was caught between the gears within it. Even from his high vantage point, Word soon heard the sound of it break. Whatever it had been, it sounded like breaking wood, possibly plastic…or even human bones.
Word abruptly felt vertigo wash over him as he stared down from the immense height. He dropped to his knees with a lightheaded head, placing a shaking hand to comfort it. It couldn't be…not Moordryd.
Word closed is eyes. He hadn't brought Moordryd out here to send him into death's embrace. I only wanted closure. Word swallowed deeply as he squeezed his eyes shut. I never meant to kill him.
The soft moan of the impatient wraiths and the cold groping wind, along with the stricken screams of the city clawed at his heart as he sat hunched in his solitude. He stared down at Work Town. He had just wanted to know Moordryd's position. Word breathed deeply and shakily. The war has killed my son, came the never ending thought. My actions for another war killed him. Unasked images of Zulay flooded his mind. She had merely been trying to prove herself to him, but had disappeared because Word was involved with starting another war. Now his son was gone too, because of him. His worst fear had come true. He had been driving Moordryd away, very slowly. Word sighed in the darkness. Even sentencing him to a wraith wouldn't have done any good, he reflected.
Word fought back rising emotions, telling himself that such things were for the weak. His throat nonetheless tightened as he listened to the sounds of a dying city and realized how alone he really was. Just him and the war which had cost him so much.