Author's Notes: Hi, again! I may be off for a while. I was writing this during my extra time in keyboarding class ("But I am practicing my keyboarding!") and we're changing teachers. Who knows if I'll get time with the new one. Once again, thank you all for your interest! I hope this answers all questions. -StarWitch
Oran let loose a soft grunt as he was thrown into a gray cell in the mage's end of the jail in Carthak. Specifically made to deal with troublesome mages, the small stone building was warded by the university and kept as far from the rest of the jail as was possible. Oran had seen it only once, when as a very young mage he came on a field trip. He still remembered the cold feel of the place, as if it was in Scanra or some forgotten northern country instead of Carthak's desert. And now he was getting a reminder.
The place, as usual, was near deserted. In fact, only the cell to the right of Oran was in use. Its occupant had crowded near to the thin open slot in his cell door when Oran was dragged, showing only his eyes. Red, bloodshot eyes. Was that just the man, or a hint as to the regimen had at the jail?
"Hoy in there!" a gravelly voice called from the cell. The guard closing the door paused.
"You know, if I were you," the young man told the mage, "I'd not associate with him over there. He's a bad sort, Mithros strike me. I pray the Hag get him soon."
Oran shivered. To actually wish the Graveyard Hag on a person was one of the worst curses you could lay. The mage backed away from the right wall, settling down against the cool stone wall on the left. His robe was too thin to keep the chill of the cell off him, and sitting back tugged back his sleeves to reveal the steel cuffs that dug into his wrists. Blood created slick trails across the backs of his hands. Tugging lightly at the right cuff, Oran felt something grate painfully against the bones of his wrists. He had only heard of the spiked mage cuffs, but Oran would bet the Hag herself that that was what bound him.
Spiked mage cuffs had been a recent invention of the war mages. The bands used before to bind mages sometimes slipped off, or were forced off by their captive. The cuffs, however, had half-inch long spikes to cling to the prisoner's bones. Only a desperate prisoner would force them off, as it would mean destroying both hands in the process.
"Hoy in there!" the gravelly voice called again. "Who are you and what put you here?" Oran shivered away from the direction of the voice, the guard's words running through his head. "I said, who are you? We get so few visitors, or at least that's what the guards said."
"What the guards said?"
"So you aren't mute! Now who are you!"
"I am… a fool."
"Aren't we all. I am Hald Urose, at your service. As long as we're here, anyway. You have shackles?"
Oran gritted his teeth at the metal around his wrists. "Yes."
"Well no reason to go mad about," the gravelly voice complained. "I've got them too. Like any other sort of slime that-"
Oran stopped listening to the man on the other side of the wall rant. Calming his breathing, he focused on the place where he had always found the orange spring of his magic. Slipping down into it, he touched the place. Somehow, to his mind, it felt like a crystal barrier. Hard, cold, and smooth, without a flaw. Not a hint of orange within it.
"-and I don't see why selling my herbs is such a crime. After all, people sell spelled things all the time, why not herbs? And if people use them to poison, what blame is that on me?" Hald Urose continued. "I didn't tell them to poison anyone-"
Oran froze, remembering Mina's words.
"Well, there was a man from the naturalist's side of the university. They say he was marketing in poisons and illegal drugs. Magically grown ones. They only just caught him…"
This man, then, was the one with the poisons! Oran sighed. Just like him to get the crazy man in the next cell. Today was just getting better and better. Athis mad, Mina catching him…
Something nagged at one corner of his mind when he thought of the blue-robed mage. She hadn't caught him before, so why now? How had she gotten the record book? He'd locked the door when he left, so… Oran thought as Hald continued his rant in the next cell.
Suddenly Oran jerked upright. She had been near his desk after she stumbled. He had shoved the thin record book under one of his thickest textbooks. That meant the textbook wouldn't settle right onto the desk, but be strangely lifted, and Mina had been suspicious before. She noticed, picked up the text, and looked through my entries while he was occupied with the warding crystals. Including the entry on the crystal. Tucked both into her robes, left with them, showed them to the Dean, got him imprisoned.
He had been so stupid! No wonder he had been caught! And now there was no one to help Athis. His fault. No jokes would get them out of this one, and the punishment would be more than the times he had gotten slave's duty for pranks.
In the darkened cell, listening to the rough voice of a furious mage, Oran silently began to cry.
~*~*~
Athis woke in the middle of the night from a nightmare of stone cages sinking into the mud. The screams of the cages' occupants still ringing in her head, the mage angled her long dragon's head to view the crystal curled in one clawed paw.
The crystal was black. Not the blue it should have been, or even red, but obsidian black.
-Oran never mentioned anything about a black symbol- Athis said to herself. She delicately touched one claw to the crystal's smooth face. No current of magic lay there, only a sort of… Athis thought. She still wasn't used to this way of feeling magic or the messages it gave her. Still, the crystal seemed to carry only a- Residue- Athis whispered. –The magic is long gone.- But the crystal drew its power from Oran's magic, and should not have left.
The dragon twisted herself out of the cave and studied the skies. Oran had wonderful control of his magic. She had never known him to lose control of a continuous enchantment, and the crystal spell was not difficult. It suggested what she most feared: something had happened to the man.
Oran had a knack for getting into trouble. If he had come to harm somehow, he would need her help, no matter what form that came in. On the other hand, the woman mused, the city was far. Walking there, especially in the unfamiliar dragon form, would take days.
However, dragons were not made for walking about. They were made for flying. Athis shivered. For all of her legends, she had no clue how something quite as large as a dragon could get off the ground. It couldn't be too different from a bird, could it? And Oran still needed help.
Steeling herself, Athis extended her large emerald wings and began to flap them in tandem. –Up, two three, down, two, three, up, two, three, down, two- Athis chanted as she slowly hovered into the air. Her shoulders screamed at her as she stretched muscles unused for weeks, but she was up! Up!
Hesitantly floating down the mountain, Athis dodged the stunted trees as she flapped back toward the university. Flight had always been her preferred form of travel, being so fast and comfortable. Unlike the wagons she was expected to ride. Or horses; horses had an annoying tendency to rear when Athis sat upon them.
She chuckled, then dodged another tree. The only minus to flying, Athis thought to herself, was the need for concentration. If your mind wandered, most often you'd hit a tree or building. There had been many runs to the infirmary before she learned her lesson. Then there was the one time she had gotten her fellow mages into the air with her…
~*~*~
It was still dark in the cell when Oran woke from an odd dream of clanking chains. The room seemed wrong tonight, too dark and small. Not to mention cold. And had he fallen asleep with his robe on again?
Memories came back in a flash. He was in the mage's jail. Mina had caught him. Athis was still stuck. And the cell was freezing.
The clanking sound purveying his dreams sounded again. Creeping to the door, Oran saw a large, frowning man with the look of a Copper Islander being chained by two guards. Another guard stood watch, noticing when Oran pushed up to the tiny slot in his door. "Finally decided to wake up?" the man sneered at the mage.
Oran decided it was best to ignore the man's tone of voice. If he was in prison a while, it was best not to antagonize the men who controlled his food and shelter. Like antagonizing the Dean of the university was not a good idea when one was a mage in that "abode of higher learning."
"What's going on?"
"They said Urose is to be beheaded tonight."
"They?"
"The judge. Said Urose is mad and shouldn't stay to go loose. Must take care of him before he gets out or kills someone. Near scalped one of my fellows already." The guard leaned over to the cell, treating Oran with the scent of rancid sausage. "Got the idea that you don't want to try that? At least, assuming you want your head." The caged mage nodded and backed away from the smell, wrinkling his nose and thinking about all the jokes he shouldn't make about the man's breath.
He heard a door slam, raising warped echoes down the hall. Shivering with cold and fear, Oran crept to the tiny window at the top of the outside wall. Below lay a wide dirt field, its only defining features being the stone pedestal in the center and the red stain surrounding the rock. Lit by moonlight and a large collection of torches and lightglobes, there were far more people than he expected at this time of night surrounded the squared stone, including a man with a wicked-looking ax. As Oran watched, the three guards and their prisoner appeared from a gray entranceway and walked up a path between the people to the pedestal. They stripped Urose of his shirt. One guard took out a whip and began to slash at the prisoner. Red ran down the man's back, making Oran stomach tighten.
Faintly, Oran heard a well-dressed man call out, "This Hald Urose, of the Copper Isles and the university, is charged with the making of poisons, growing illegal plants, and murder. He is deemed insane. The sentence, as supported by the almighty Emperor, by the high priest of Mithros, and by the Judge of Carthak, is death."
Two of the leather-armored guards took Urose by the arms, led him to the pedestal, and pushed the man to his knees. His head cracked hard against the stone as the man with the ax stepped close.
Oran closed his eyes and sank down against the wall.
The first thunk caused the sentenced man to scream without stopping. It continued through the next six thunks, then stopped suddenly. As the wet thunks continued, Oran crawled into a corner of his cell on weak knees and threw up.
~*~*~
Athis was more than two thirds of the way there. Dawn was only beginning to dye the sky pink and the light was slowly growing better. That was when she noticed the caravan below her, and the small figure half hidden in a large winged shadow. Athis gave an angry hum as the man- she thought it was a man- pointed her out to his fellows on the wagons, who promptly got out bows.
-Exactly what I needed- Athis muttered. –A pile of scared dragonslayers.- She began to coast away from the trail. Then a trail of fire flicked down her left wing and she was falling, plummeting to the rocky, scrub-covered ground. Her wings were no longer working, the one wing shrieking as she attempted to slow her descent. The wind whipped her about. Athis trembled. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! The ground grew closer as the dragon-woman drew herself into a tight ball, hoping against a hard landing.
Athis thudded into the ground hard, knocking the breath out of her lungs and creating an excellent collection of sore spots. She lay there, gasping and stunned. –Note to Oran: dragons are remarkably hard to kill.-
"Do you see it?" a man's voice called from a slight distance. Athis sighed. In the terror of her fall, she hadn't quite forgotten the caravan and its occupants.
Or the pain in her wing, which still hadn't let up. Glancing over her shoulder, Athis stared at the tattered webbing of her long wing. –What-?- she questioned, then glanced back to where she thought she had first felt the pain. There stood a tall, thin spear of rock projecting from the sandy desert floor. Athis groaned. Just her luck, she must have torn her wing on it! No flying until it healed, and the men were getting closer.
Pulling herself together, Athis crawled to a nearby outcropping of red rock. Her scales rasped against the rough stone, too loud. One man called to his friends. Athis tucked herself into as small a ball as she could, and began praying.
-Mithros, Goddess, please protect me. Graveyard Hag, trick my enemies. Shakith, hide me. Black God, deny me the way to your world. Oh, gods, please assist this poor supplicant at your door.-
The male voices were very close now, and their words clear.
"I 'eared somthin' over 'ere, I tell ye!"
"The demon dragon?"
"'Ow am I supposed to know!"
"Calm down, both of you! It was hurt when it fell. It can't be far."
Athis huddled tightly against the rock as the first man circled to her side of the rock. He'd see her for sure. What then? Athis thought as she had been taught, calmly and rationally. She was always the calm one before, and this was not the time to change it!
Flying was out of the question. So was another hiding place; the desert had no places sufficient to hide her large body. If she stayed as she was, she was at the mercy of the men. With one calling her a demon, it seemed unwise. Which left reasoning with them or attacking them. Could these men hear dragonspeech? Athis moaned inside. She would have to attack, no matter that she had never harmed another before. This was not a time to be moral or squeamish.
The man stood at the corner of the rock, staring about confusedly. Athis froze. Why hadn't he noticed her yet? A dragon was a little large to miss! The man stepped onto a niche in the rock, then turned.
"I don't see a thing!"
"But 'at's impossible!"
"I know." The man sighed deeply, then stepped down from the rock. "Probably better that way anyways. Never good to mess with magic."
"Speakin' on magic, I saw the stupid mage die last night."
Athis's breath froze.
"What mage?"
"They just caught some mage doing things he shouldn' ta. Messin' wi' things wi'out the university's say-so. So they killed 'im."
"I hadn't heard a thing about a rogue mage."
"They only just caught 'im yesterday, and already he made trouble. But did 'e scream! I never thought anybody could scream like-"
Athis felt ready to scream. A mage was caught yesterday and executed. Oran's crystal was dark and magic-less. A man was caught doing things he shouldn't without university permission. A mage was executed yesterday.
A mage was executed yesterday.
Oran was dead.
-Note to Oran: it is physically impossible for dragons to cry.-
To be continued. Please review!