Secret of the Shadow Track

by Liliwen

Artha is trapped in the Shadow Track, but this time, he is trapped for 15 years. He escapes to find the world engulfed by war and a people who no longer believe in the Dragon Booster. Can he be the hero they need and stop the final plot to end it all?

12. The Passage of Time

A/N: I've made up my own date system for Dragon Booster, since none has been mentioned in the show. So if you happen to see me mention it in my fic…

Each year has 360 days. There are 6 months, and each has 60 days each. The months are, in order: Dryco, Durius, Nyvum, Apru, Raada, and Rinnan. The Draconian new year starts on Dryco the 1st. The Draconian calendar has started this date system from when the original Dragon Human war ended, which was about three thousand years ago from the present day in Dragon City. Artha was trapped in the Shadow Track on Raada the 39th, 3000 AB, exactly 3000 years after the original Dragon Human war ended. 3000 AB, stands for 3000 Anno Bellem, which is Latin for 'year of the war'. Thanks to the Furox for suggesting that and giving the meaning! And if you've noticed, Raada is Kitt's middle name. I thought, why not use that for the name of a month? ;)

I know I've left the last chapter off at Artha being trapped and all, but here's a bit of a flashback as to what happened when they're in the wastelands, and what happens during the fifteen years.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Booster.

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The Passage of Time

It was down in the Old City, dark and forlorn, full of creeping shadows and the screams from above. It seemed that were still some people being attacked in Down City. Funny, Malto had thought that was long over and everyone dead, fled or captured. His dragon grinned at the sounds of terror and flicked his tail. Malto grinned along with him, without care or worry. They had both gotten out alright, much to the surprise of Malto, who hadn't expected to find his dragon down here and unhurt.

Malto's glance turned down from above and came to rest upon a haggard woman and her young son, sitting not far away. The mother clearly had no idea what to do, and was one of the thousands that would simply follow whatever orders that were given. The horror from above had certainly broken down the weak and the strong alike, all their bravery and resistance shattered and swept away with the rank wind, that is, except for Malto. He leered at the young boy who just happened to then look at him from where he had been staring at the bottom of Down City. Tears welled up in his eyes and he buried his face in his mother's tattered coat. She looked at Malto with blank eyes, perhaps seeing only the death of her kin over and over again. Malto laughed and turned his dragon away to weave in and out of the multitudes of people resting in the dirt of the Wastelands.

He had nowhere in particular to go, and as his dragon walked wherever he felt the fancy to go, Malto began to loose himself in his thoughts. He had the notion that Word had been the one controlling the wraith dragons for a while. Of course, he didn't know until that exact moment when Word chose to reveal himself, but he'd had a hunch. Which was one of the reasons why he had wanted to meet with him before, and talk about gears and plots and whatever else would come up. Then the Dragon Booster came while he was busying himself with helping Word's little brat win some competition for the Academy standings, just for a rare opportunity to meet Word.

But that was all over and done with, and still Malto prided himself on escaping from Precinct. Now perhaps he could go about his business once again. It would be too easy to go to White Cliffs, the main city for the once great white draconium empire, and once again sell black market and illegal gear. That would be too easy and would not grant him any worthwhile rewards. Worthwhile being power, might and the ability to call himself one of the most cunning men in history. But now that the war had finally started, Malto found a new window of opportunity.

Screams met his ears, jolting him from his gathering thoughts. His dragon tensed and stopped from his plodding walk. Malto looked to where the screaming had come from. Ah, it was happening again.

Dragons roared at the defenseless people and magged them away from themselves and off their saddles. The more thoughtful ones didn't bash them against rocks or drop them from great heights, to fall screaming and suddenly grow quiet after a dull thunk and a cloud of dust. The dragons then ran off, and the humans offered no resistance to their leaving. These were just the dragons who now opposed the humans. They would run away and group up into their respective draconium influences, to later discuss among themselves what to do. Then, as most did, they would go find the Prophets crew, the only way for a new world and to right the wrong. Other dragons still with their humans shifted nervously and uncertainly. Talk had been floating among them for a while now, and Malto could only guess at what they said. Perhaps of how the humans have once again used them as slaves, of how humans could not be trusted, or how great Propheci was, being the only dragon to lead the opposition.

Malto had heard enough about this orange dragon and the old crew to know how dangerous that one would be. Word had competition for world domination. A smile crept onto Malto's face, and his dragon smiled too, sensing his idea. The Prophets had no gear, no powerful gear, but Malto did. His smile turned again into a grin. What would a cunning man, desiring power, do in this circumstance? Selling powerful gear to all the huge, growing empires would certainly earn him plentiful rewards, not to mention that he could perhaps rest in their good graces. He would be like the mercenary white draconium empire of old. All the advantages of this clearly outnumbered those of continuing his small schemes in a simple city. And who knew what he could do, once he gained the trust of those around him. Malto grinned.

"Malto. I'm surprised to see you…down here and alive."

Malto turned quickly to look behind him. There, seated all high and mighty on his blue dragon, was Captain Faier. His right arm was heavily bandaged and he clearly avoided moving it too much. Malto frowned at him.

"Faier, long time no see."

Faier pursed his lips irritably. "Malto, I don't need trouble from you."

"Heh, I've done nothing," Malto grunted and looked Faier over. "Do you plan on shackling me?"

"You don't know how much I'd like that. But I can't waste my time on petty thieves like you."

Malto sneered at him. He was not a petty thief, he was a highly capable black market dealer. Faier grinned softly at Malto's apparent annoyance.

"I'll, I'll not get in your way then. I only wish to make it in one piece to White Cliffs."

Faier nodded slowly, and looked at the people around him. "I don't suppose you could do much anyway. And I can't waste security on holding you. Drakkus knows there's few enough as it is." Malto held his sneer in place, but chuckled inwardly. Faier looked sharply at him. "I'll be calling ahead to White Cliffs. They'll know we're coming and know about you. You'll be taken into custody there, and if you choose to try to go to another city, I'll have your warrant all over the place. You're a wanted man, Malto. No one likes your type."

"Don't you forget to do that now." Malto said softly and harshly. He personally had no intention of going with them to White Cliffs, or to any other major city for the time being. He had things to do here. "By your leave, Faier. Try not to let too many innocent people die before we reach safety."

Malto turned his dragon as Faier glared at his back. Just what he needed, escaped convicts to make his job more complicated. If he was lucky, perhaps Malto's dragon would turn on him and…Faier gave his head a shake. What was he doing? He sighed. He shouldn't wish for Malto to die or become injured, he wasn't like…Word Paynn. Faier clenched his teeth and grunted as he pushed forward his dragon's handles.

His dragon walked calmly and slowly through the throng of people and dragons, careful not to step on or frighten any. Faier's eyes scanned the crowds. Where was that Dragon Priest? Mortis? Or the Dragon Master Akaria? Faier had ordered the mass multitude to head to White Cliffs within a few hours. It took time to get everyone settled and somewhat orderly. Faier blinked and noticed, ahead and off to his side, one of the Penns. Just the people he needed to talk to, since he had neither seen nor heard of Mortis yet, and he knew of no others who had any sort of connection with the Dragon Booster. Where was he? Faier wanted to ask.

Lance, Kitt, Parm, some pale, thin man, Marianis, and oddly enough Spynn too, were walking along quickly, or rather, riding on Frachsun and Cyrano, who were the ones walking quickly and looking rather exhausted. Faier opened his mouth to talk to them, but Parm interrupted him.

"Hey, Faier! Faier, we need to talk to you! It's about the Dragon Booster…."

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Artha blinked and looked around. Decepshun and Moordryd were poised, ready for something to happen; nothing did. Perhaps that was why his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He looked around, as if trying to find whatever trap he had been leading Artha into and the reason of it's failure.

"What's the matter Moordryd?" Artha said, taunting him. Taunting Moordryd was fun, especially now, when Artha himself was elated that Moordryd's trap, whatever it had been, had apparently failed.

"Wha…I don't understand…" Moordryd trailed off, still looking around himself at the dead Shadow Track. His voice was…different. Artha shook off the feeling of suspicion; he supposed it was simply the echoing in the cave, or something to that extent, that seemed to deepen Moordryd's voice so. Strange that his voice was not affected the same way.

Artha looked down at Beau and felt better when his dragon grinned up at him. Beau didn't seem as uneasy as he. Artha looked back to Moordryd and leaned forward, resting his gauntleted arm on his saddle. "So Moordryd. What was your brilliant plan?"

Moordryd sneered at him. "It's supposed to work…maybe my father was wrong." Moordryd grunted and stared at Artha hard. "I can't believe he was wrong…"

Artha laughed at him. "Word can't be right all the time, Moordryd. What was he expecting? Was the Shadow Track supposed to…to magically regenerate?"

Moordryd narrowed his eyes. "Yes. He said that it would. But…"

"He's wrong, as it seems. Now how about you and me talk about why he sent you here in the first place."

Moordryd's gaze snapped up from where he had been almost forlornly staring at the ground; his heated gaze was the exact same Artha had seen on cornered animals on any documentary presentation he had been forced to sit through when he had gone to school. Artha knew enough to know that any cornered animal or human would fight twice as hard to get away from the claws of its attacker, which happened to be more often than not the Murhota. Artha grabbed his jakk-stick, ready for Moordryd to make the first move, and grinned inside as his outward expression was one of determination. He rather liked referring himself as the hunter, attacker, beast of the wastelands, the Murhota. Artha tensed his muscles, instructing them to be quiet and ready till he pounced like the dragon.

Moordryd eyed Artha's readiness to fight. He pressed his lips together, seemingly unsure of whether to tell the Dragon Booster anything. Artha had the dim feeling that he wasn't about to say anything. "I'm not telling you anything." Moordryd proved Artha's thoughts. "Are you that dimwitted to think I actually would?"

"No, but I can always try."

Moordryd sniffed. "You're wasting your time then. Idiot."

Artha grimaced. It seemed to him that fighting Moordryd and beating him would be the best way to see if he could get anything out of him then. The Shadow Track was dangerous and mysterious. He had to know why Word would want more black shadow draconium samples. For better, more improved wraith gear? Or worse?

"Moordryd, you can either cooperate or," Artha said and paused while he twirled his jakk-stick and held it in one hand while his other immediately filled with Beau's gold mag energy, "I'll just have to fight you again."

Moordryd scoffed at him. "Fight me then. You won't win." Moordryd pulled back on the handles to back Decepshun up. Her claws clicked on the draconian ground as the distance between the two dragons increased. Beau snorted and advanced, walking at the same speed as Decepshun; she coolly glared back. Artha held his mag-push in an unwavering hand. Steady like the Murhota, until he was ready to strike.

Moordryd then looked up just as Artha was about to throw his mag-push. Artha instead held it and looked to what held Moordryd's attention. Black shadow draconium covered the gleaming ceiling, and at various intervals, pointed down as stalactites. Moordryd grinned. Artha couldn't fathom as to why he would be so happy to see that, a rough ceiling of a cave. Moordryd glanced quickly at the Dragon Booster, noticing his stare. Then his attention was quickly focused on the roof above him once more.

Moordryd lifted his hands and Decepshun concentrated her mag energy to flow into him. Bright, purple beams of his mag-push snaked through the air to the stalactites above Artha's head. Artha gasped as the huge pieces began to fall, dislodged from their precious and once eternal grip. Beau leapt aside, dodging them as they fell. Some of the larger pieces were as big as Fracshun.

Moordryd laughed and when the ceiling settled and no more stalactites would fall, Decepshun bounded past Artha and Beau, who had slipped on the slick ground. Beau roared, both furious at himself for loosing his footing and embarrassed. "Follow them boy," Artha said as Beau leapt into a run. "The Shadow Track is still broken and Word's plan is useless now." Beau smiled, narrowed his eyes in determination and kept close on Decepshun's tail through the winding Shadow Track as she led the way out.

A certain part of the track became familiar to Artha, who recognized it as the place where he had been captured by the black shadow draconium once before. He wouldn't let that happen again; he knew what it felt like. Besides, he had conquered his fears. What others did he have?

Feeling high and mighty, Artha and Beau followed Decepshun as she leapt out of the Shadow Track into the wastelands beyond.

Beau landed outside the Shadow Track with a loud thump and immediately glanced around for Decepshun. There she was. Already at the edge of the clearing, where a huge rock face stood black against the dismal, grey sky.

"Moordryd," Artha called, but said nothing more as something most interesting had caught his attention.

It wasn't the fact that Decepshun had seemed to have suddenly teleported to the boulder. Beau and he had been right on her tail as she left the Shadow Track, and now, all of a sudden, she was nearly two hundred dracometers ahead. It wasn't that, nor the fact that Moordryd had, for some odd reason, halted Decepshun at the base of the giant cliff when he surely had a good lead. No, it was the giant cliff itself.

It was hugely, astoundingly gigantic. The top looked as if it reached as high as upper Down City, and it was wide. Thrice as wide as the whole clearing in which Artha sat on Beau, dumbfounded.

"Beau? That was definitely not here before…" Artha said. Beau scanned the precipice, then let out a low moan and looked around. Artha realized that he was looking for Kitt and the others. Where were they?

"Parm? Lance? Kitt? Moordryd's out, but he hasn't got what he came for. The Shadow Track is still dead. Where are you?" Artha looked around and nothing but the usual rubble of the Old City met his eyes.

"Can't find your friends? I think I remember seeing them when I went inside the Shadow Track. They were right beside you, watching me." Artha could see Moordryd's smirk from across the clearing.

"What? You didn't see us before you went into the track."

Moordryd's grin disappeared suddenly. Artha narrowed his eyes as Beau growled. "You're right boy. Something's not right here." Artha looked up at the huge boulder. "That wasn't here before…and how did Moordryd suddenly get so far ahead…the others aren't here…and the …the light…" Artha stopped his low voiced thoughts and looked up at the sky. "The moons weren't out when we went in. But the whole place is lit up like the moons were out. There aren't any clouds in the sky, but I still don't see the moons. Or any stars." Beau looked up at the night sky as well and realized Artha's worry. Since there were no moons, stars or any sort of light in the Old City…where was the light coming from? And why was nothing up there in the sky?

The Old City was lit just like a normal night, which no source of light. Everything was well defined and could be seen clearly.

"The moons aren't out now." Moordryd called.

"Then where's the light coming from?" Artha called back and missed the fact completely that Moordryd had somehow overheard him while he had been musing things over in a near whisper from such a distance away.

"How should I know?"

"And where are the stars?"

"Behind the clouds."

"What clouds…"

"Those clouds." Moordryd pointed up, and Artha gasped.

The night sky was no longer clear and eerie. It now housed a layer of dark clouds. Yet the light in the Old City stayed the same.

Moordryd looked down from the sky to Artha again, and quickly spoke to take Artha's attention off the subtle differences between the Shadow Track's illusion and the real world. He grinned wickedly. Even if Artha found out where he truly was, he would still have to face his fears. And how could he overcome them this time? Moordryd's eyes flashed white in a malevolent flicker. Then, before Artha turned to look, they turned to the normal colour obtained by Artha's memories. "I may not have been able to get the draconium, but…"

Artha tensed as Moordryd left his sentence hanging. Moordryd's grin and leering, confident words gave Artha the chills. "Where am I?" He finally asked, becoming more unsure by the second. Everything was wrong, but this feeling felt familiar, yet Artha couldn't tell where he had felt it before. Artha knew he should know it, but something was getting in the way, forcing him to forget.

"Where are you?" Moordryd laughed. "Where are you?" He laughed again, harder, until he was holding his sides from the exertion. Artha and Beau waited while he laughed, the echoes bouncing back to them with more of an echo than they should've. Decepshun chuckled softly as Moordryd at length quieted. He laughed quietly once more before he spoke again. "Where are you? You, Artha Penn, are in an eternal nightmare."

Beau's growl was cut short as both Artha and he started at the huge roar of some colossal dragon. The pebbles, huge pillars and the entire illusion itself shook from the power of the bloodcurdling cry. All the while, Moordryd laughed.

The ground shook from the footsteps as Drakkus and his dragon appeared from behind the huge cliff. His dragon roared and Beau roared in reply. Snorting, the monstrous dragon grew quiet and deathly confident. Artha looked back to the smirking Moordryd. Artha looked back from Moordryd, to Drakkus, then from Drakkus to Moordryd.

"What…are you working with Drakkus?" Artha shouted.

"It would seem so, wouldn't it?" Moordryd replied and Drakkus' dragon started to walk forward to Artha. "My father and I have reached an agreement with Drakkus. It looks as if they have a lot in common."

Artha clenched his teeth and Beau backed up a couple of steps. No wonder Moordryd had stopped running. He had Drakkus to help him. Artha glared at Moordryd, who was now slinking out of sight and soon disappeared behind the cliff. His attention was quickly diverted when Drakkus' dragon roared furiously at them.

"Dragon Booster." Drakkus said without emotion.

"Drakkus." Artha said in the same, devoid tone. Well, at least he had stopped Moordryd from getting the draconium. "Parm?" Artha shouted without looking around, his gaze fixed on Drakkus. Drakkus laughed softly.

Artha ground his teeth. He just had to get out of here and find the others. He did, after all, have a race later. He pulled back on Beau's handles, and may have been too obvious with his motions, for Drakkus noticed.

"Dragon Booster, you don't want to leave now. Not after I've told you what I have."

Artha paused. "What do you have?" Suddenly, he thought of his missing friends. "No!"

"Yes, those pitiful excuses you use as aid in your battles." Drakkus sneered.

"Give them back! What have you done with them?"

Drakkus laughed. "You seem…frightened." The last word he stretched out and Artha didn't like how Drakkus seemed to grin beneath his dark mask.

"Of course I'm frightened! Where are they? If you've hurt them…" Artha left his sentence unfinished and the loose end dangled in the silence between them. After a few minutes, during which Artha was sure Drakkus had been laughing softly, Drakkus spoke.

"Allow me to ease your fears. Your friends are unhurt…for the moment."

"Gee, thanks. I feel a lot better. Now tell me where they are! I'm not leaving without them!"

Drakkus stared at the Dragon Booster and droned in a dead voice. "But they've left without you."

"What?"

Drakkus only laughed. Beau tensed, but not because of Drakkus. He craned his neck to look behind Drakkus' huge dragon, and then Artha heard it. A scream.

Artha's mouth went dry. "Parm?" Artha looked at Drakkus, to see him eyeing him intently. "What did you mean they left me?" He asked him harshly.

Drakkus didn't appear to like being talked to so harshly. His dragon started to walk forward menacingly. He ignored Artha's last question. "What are you going to do, Dragon Booster? Come. Try and save your friends."

"Alright then, I WILL!" Artha accepted the challenge with confidence. Drakkus' eyes smoldered with a green flame as he leapt into the air on a purple mag-stream. "Mag me, Beau!" Artha shouted, but it was not needed, as Beau had already thrown him up on a stream even before he spoke.

The Dragon Booster and Drakkus soared through the air to meet each other; Drakkus had both his hands full of mag energy and the Dragon Booster held his jakk-stick tightly in both of his. Drakkus slowed his speed and let loose his energy.

Artha managed to bat away a few of the mag-pushes, but was quickly hit by the rest and thrown back. Drakkus finished his mag-fury and nearly shook his head at the Dragon Booster's ineptness to dodge or defend.

Beau managed to stop Artha's headlong plunge towards the cliff of the Shadow Track behind him. Artha straightened himself on his mag-stream and glared at Dakkus, who was waiting patiently for Artha to make the next move.

Artha knew that he could not defeat Drakkus. Not in a one on one battle. But he had to save his friends. Parm had just screamed.

Artha fingered his jakk-stick, all the while glaring at Drakkus and frantically thinking of how he could at least get past him. The huge boulder…

Artha looked. Drakkus was standing right in front of it. All Artha had to do was try to bring down some of the rock on top of him, which would stall him, distract him or injure him. Preferably all three.

Without further hesitation, Artha magged upwards to meet Drakkus, who was patiently waiting, supported by his dragon's mag stream. Soon, he too rushed to meet his foe.

Artha quickly put away his jakk-stick and faster than he had ever done before, sent a huge mag-push right at Drakkus with both his hands. Hands shaking from the amount of energy Artha had let flow through him, his heart leapt as Drakkus was hit, evidently too late to bring up a mag-shield or some other defense. He cried angrily as he flew through the air and landed on the ground beyond his dragon in a heap. His dragon ignored Artha and Beau and turned the front part of his body and readied himself to mag his rider, who was just rising from the ground.

Though Artha was rather surprised he had managed to hit Drakkus, he wasted no further time in sending another mag-push at the rock face. Beau helped to mag part of the rock down. Then Beau magged Artha and ran after Moordryd, even as the rock was still falling and Drakkus' screams of rage and defeat rang out across the desolate Old City.

When Artha vanished, Drakkus, from beneath the piles of rock and rubble, smiled. Eyes shining ghostly white, he laughed. Artha Penn was just giving into his fears. Another scream from the illusionary Parm and a new one from Lance only let the Shadow Track know that the Dragon Booster was indeed frightened for his friend's lives.

Artha raced on, nearing the screams of terror, the only thing in his mind was to help them. He was afraid, and his fears took over him.

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The moons were out in the clear, night sky. They cast a silent, haunting light upon the huge windswept cliffs, which towered into the sky, threatening to touch the moons and scatter the stars with their pointed tips. The pale moonbeams made the white city glow, and to Lance, the city looked as if it were made of bone. He dimly realized that must be why White Cliffs was also called the City of Bones.

Lance remembered riding across the plains as the city rose before the refugees from Dragon City. As they had ridden into the monstrous shadow and started to travel up the slight hill leading to the great gates, Parm wouldn't stop talking about the ancient history about the city. He went on further to talk about the city's sewage system, which was a sign to all who were actually listening that he was merely talking to calm himself. Lance had never seen another city before, other than Dragon City, and neither had Artha. Artha had always told him that one day they would travel to White Cliffs or Oceania and see the elite races on the famous racing tracks. But here he was, without Artha. And his Dad wondered why he was so downcast.

And tonight the moonlight mocked him, for it was the very same, dull glow that had first appeared the night Artha was trapped and millions captured and killed, and reappeared every night thereafter, following them to White Cliffs. Every time Lance saw the moonlight, it brought back all the visions, memories and the knowledge of what had happened to Artha.

Lance sighed and turned away from the window where the moonlight filtered into the apartment where they were now staying in White Cliffs. It was night, of course, and it was getting rather late. Lance looked up at the glowing VIDDscreen in the room from where he was watching as he sat on the edge of his bed. He couldn't help but stare at the date. Raada the 47th. Nearly eight days before, Dragon City had been overthrown and the news never talked about anything else but that and the current situation. Lance frowned at the date, still shimmering in the top right corner of the screen, along with the present temperature. Artha had been trapped in the Shadow Track for eight whole days now.

Lance quickly glanced away from the screen to stare at his shoes. Parm and Kitt watched him silently from across the room, with worried expressions on their faces.

Their apartment in the city was well furnished, and consisted of three rooms. One for Connor, one for Lance, Parm and Reepyr to share, and one for Kitt and Marianis, who was still brooding over the fact that none of her crew seemed to have made it out of the city safely. Spynn tended to pop her head in every so often and greet Reepyr with a smile, who then accompanied her outside. Lance didn't even have the heart to make kissing sounds or to bother them about it, as he used to love doing to various, smitten people.

But tonight, Reepyr had already left with Spynn, Marianis was in one of the other bedrooms, Parm and Kitt were sitting with Lance in his room and Connor had gone to discuss Dragon City's situation as Mortis with the leaders of White Cliffs.

"You know, Lance…" Kitt started and got up from where she had been sitting beside Parm on a couch. She walked over to Lance with a reassuring smile on her face. Lance didn't even look up as she sat beside him on the bed. "Arth…Artha's alright. Is…"

Lance sighed and looked at her. "I know what you're going to say. Artha's the Dragon Booster, the suit will help him, he's got enough food for a month, Beau's there with him…" Lance trailed off. "But…I know Artha's alright…for now. But they're not doing anything!"

Kitt sighed inaudibly. "Lance, we only just got here this morning."

"Right, and they should've left to go help him already." Lance insisted. "He's the Dragon Booster. Why haven't they left already?"

"Connor's probably getting them to leave now." Kitt eyed Parm across the room. "Right?"

"Oh, yes! Of course. Well, there are certain complications." Parm mused and played with his fingers, no longer looking at Lance and Kitt. "There's barely any elite racers here, they were all in Dragon City on the elite racing circuit, or competing in Oceania. And I doubt there are many academy level racers here…Dragon City houses the academy…and Dragon City is full of wraiths now…White Cliffs certainly does not have enough security forces to go help free Artha…" Parm frowned at his fingers.

There were no such things as armies. The only thing that could even come close to resembling a fighting force were the elite racers and each of the city's security forces. And now, for the first time in thousands of years, the first true army had risen. Nearly two million of Dragon City's inhabitants were wraiths, but this, of course, was just an estimate. How could White Cliffs simple security force and perhaps a few elite racers hope to come close to freeing the Dragon Booster?

"Parm, that's not helping." Kitt hissed at him.

Parm glanced up. "Well, it's true. I mean, we'll have to wait for a few other cities to come help. White Cliffs can't, and won't do it alone." Parm glanced worriedly at his twitching fingers again. "But, Artha will be alright until then. Dragon City's situation is most likely number one on everyone's agendas. They'll get help quickly and free him. Artha will be fine until then," Parm nearly repeated as he pried his fingers apart and thrust them deep into his pockets.

Lance nodded, relieved that someone was telling him the direct truth. Kitt laid a hand on his shoulder. "We just have to wait until Connor comes back." Lance smiled gratefully up at her. "Maybe…maybe you should get some sleep until he…."

"No way. I'm waiting until he comes back," Lance said defensively.

Parm yawned. "Well, I don't think any of us could sleep until we know what exactly is going to happen."

Kitt grinned at him "Are you sure? You seem a bit tired."

"I'm not," Parm yawned and tried to hide it behind his hand. He noticed Lance and Kitt's grins. "Well I'm not! Not a lot, anyway."

Lance brought up his legs to sit cross-legged on the bed as their grins faded away. It was hard to stay upbeat. "Do you think Artha can get to sleep in the Shadow Track? I mean…it's dark…and cold…I…I bet he's wondering why no one's come to free him yet!"

"Lance, Artha will be fine," Kitt said.

"Yeah, yeah, he's got Beau and everything. But you don't know that he isn't scared."

"I'm sure he's…concerned," Kitt faltered a bit, not wanting to call him frightened and cause Lance to worry more than he had to. "But he knows we'll get him out. He'll just rest, wait and play with Beau till then. Who knows? Maybe he'll even get out himself."

Lance smiled. "Do you think so?"

"Uhh…" Kitt shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe. But I wouldn't count on it. It would take Earth-class dragons to clear that rock slide in front."

"But Artha's got Beau. Beau could do it."

Parm hid another yawn behind his hand. "Well, perhaps. Who knows? But we should assume he can't, and get help for them."

"Right, and then we'll free him." Lance grinned. "Won't he be surprised to see us and elite racers from the other cities?"

"Lance," Kitt forced out. "I'm sure the Shadow Track is guarded…by a lot of wraiths. A lot of wraiths. It's too dangerous for…."

"It's too dangerous for me to go?" Lance huffed and frowned back at his shoes, his question more of a statement.

Parm noticed Lance start to sink once again into a sour mood. "Yes, but it's even too dangerous for Kitt and me to go too," he said so Lance wouldn't feel as left out. Kitt glared at him. She was going, no matter what the others said. Parm noticed her look and sighed.

Right after their conversation died down, the door to the apartment opened. Kitt and Lance glanced to the bedroom door, which was open just a crack. Someone had returned and was walking around the apartment. Kitt caught a glance of Connor through the crack in the door, walking and rubbing his head.

"Dad! In here!" Lance called.

Connor followed his son's greeting and was immediately bombarded by question after question from Lance. "What'd they say? Who was there? Who's going to save Artha? How many are going? Can I go? What…"

Connor held up his hands wearily, exhausted from worrying so much about his eldest son, the sudden appearance of the second dragon-human war and various other quibbles that needed fretting over. "Lance, Lance. Hold on." He sat beside Lance on the bed and Parm leaned forward from on the couch in anticipation. Connor looked at them all and put a hand around Lance's shoulders.

"First of all…White Cliffs does plan to help."

Lance, Kitt and Parm waited for some more. After a few seconds of silence, Parm raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"Well…what has been decided was not what I…hoped."

"Why not? You said they were going to help? Aren't they?" Lance asked.

Connor nodded his head slowly. "Yes, but not alone. They're calling for a meeting with the Dragon Masters from the other cities. If we're lucky, we'll have the Dragon Masters from the light blue, green, blue, brown and red city states. Since the other city states are too far to come in such short time, hopefully we should have the black, turquoise, purple and even grey Dragon Masters participating by VIDDscreens."

Lance smiled again. "When will they get here?"

"In about a five days they'll have the meeting here."

"Five days? But…"

"Lance," Connor said, "that's how long it'll take to get here from the other cities. And the worst news is…their cities have been overtaken by wraiths as well, at the exact same time as Dragon City." Silent gasps filled the small room as Connor continued. "Word placed wraith gear in all his gear. We'll have plenty of refugees and the few Dragon Masters who made it safely out."

"And we're supposed to count on refugees to help free Artha?" Lance growled.

"We received word that there are quite a few elite racers coming. Not all hope is lost."

When Connor finished talking, Kitt immediately asked, "but wasn't White Cliffs penetrated by wraiths as well?"

Connor managed to smile. "White Cliffs has very few gears made by Word Paynn. Most of the gears in the city were made by his competition. So the wraiths that did pop up were quickly dealt with."

Parm's smile, along with Kitt and Lance's, faded. "I had no idea that this happened all over the world…" He said quietly.

"But then they'll all go and help Artha, right?" Lance asked again, cutting in.

Parm shook his head. "They'd need to actually agree on a plan, which may take several more days…or longer. Then, if a suitable plan is initiated, they'll have to have time to organize their fighters and the refugees and create a viable battle strategy. And we have to hope that there is quite a few elite racers and security forces who made it out alright from the other cities. But even then, they'll be hopelessly outnumbered. They'll have to do a sneak attack somehow. We should hope the track isn't too thoroughly guarded…"

Lance glowered at Parm. "That's not helping." Parm grinned sheepishly without much heart, knowing full well that if he hadn't been stopped, he would've gone on and on and on…

"Lance, perhaps you should sleep now." Connor said and stood.

"But a week?" Lance's mood changed drastically, and his voice rose in anger. "Artha can't stay there for another week! Why aren't they doing something!"

"Some of them," Connor said calmly, "don't believe in the Dragon Booster. They don't think he can really stop the war."

"But they should! He did it once before! They have to save him now!"

"Lance, it'll take time." Connor motioned to the bed once again, an almost pleading look in his eyes for everyone just to go to sleep.

"Why? Why aren't you doing anything? Get the other Dragon Priests and save him now!" Lance yelled. "Then he can stop the war and free all those people! And…and find Spratt…do something! Do something before more die!" Tears choked his voice near the end as he thought of Spratt, and of Sparkk who hadn't made it out either…

"I know Lance," Connor said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I won't let more die if I can help it. But we can't simply rush into Dragon City."

"You're just going to wait around till more die? Maybe Spratt will die before you can save him, just because you're waiting for the others to make a decision! You…you're killing them if you just sit here!"

"Lance, I don't want anyone to get killed. I…"

"What do you mean? You're the one who killed Moordryd!" Lance screamed the last bit at him and jumped up from the bed. He shoved his way past Connor and ran out of the bedroom, tears blinding his eyes.

Connor stared at the flung open door. He groaned and clenched his fist. "This is…this is all too…" He loosened his fists and sighed with difficulty.

Kitt wished she could say something to help, but she couldn't think of anything. She looked to Parm, and felt relief as she met his eyes, which she so often did of late. Parm gave a slight half smile, intended for her and her alone. Without looking at the two, Connor walked out of the room. Kitt opened her mouth to say something to Parm, but was interrupted when she heard Marianis' cooing voice. Kitt froze. Marianis sounded close…had she been listening?

"I think…I think Marianis must have heard…everything." Parm gulped. Kitt felt as though nothing more could stun her now. She felt numb and empty. Marianis must have heard them use Artha's name in place of the Dragon Booster's.

"Maybe she just came." Kitt whispered. Parm shrugged nervously and walked out the door as Kitt followed.

Marainis was in the main room of the apartment, sitting on a chair right beside the door to Lance's room. She had to have heard everything. Lance was on her lap, and had laid his head on her shoulder. He had certainly grown closer to her as they traveled to White Cliffs. Connor was standing beside the chair and his face betrayed his thoughts. He too feared she had heard more than she should've.

Marianis looked at them all without a trace of emotion on her face. "So Artha's the Dragon Booster."

----------

Artha urged Beau onward, following Decepshun's trail. For how long they ran on, Artha could not say. It felt like only a few seconds, but Artha knew it was more like a few minutes. Then, as he reflected on it, he wondered whether it had been a few hours instead. For whenever Beau and he got close to the source of Parm's yells, they faded again into the distance. Artha and Beau were forced to follow them again.

Decepshun's trail had long since vanished and Artha couldn't remember where it had exactly disappeared. Beau led the way, following the screams with hearing better than Artha's. Artha hung on and looked around. For a while now, however long that was, he hadn't recognized where they were. Of course they were in the Old City, but where? The huge mounds of rubble rose indiscreetly all around and blocked any decent view of where they were. The statues were alien and unrecognizable. The sand was light and uncommonly fine. The shadows were dark and the eyes that peeped out from them were darker.

Artha crouched down on Beau to get closer to him. He was the Dragon Booster, he shouldn't be scared. But he was. And each time Parm's scream rose in anguish, Artha's palms sweated and his grip on the handles tightened. Then Kitt screamed.

"Enough!" Artha yelled and pushed forward Beau's handles. "Go Beau! Before we lose them again!"

Beau was all for finding them and he sped up, which wasn't necessarily the best thing to do in the narrow, winding trails. Beau could barely keep his feet and Artha was compelled to help guide Beau through the ruins on the off chance that he may see an obstacle before his dragon.

They were going far too fast, but Artha didn't slow Beau down. They jumped over rocks and only just managed to avoid colliding with boulders. But still Parm and Kitt's screams were before them.

Then suddenly, Artha and Beau leapt into a concealed building that looked just like the ruins around them. Neither Artha or Beau realized what they had ran into until they were nearly in the middle of the large room.

"Parm! Kitt!" The intricate details of the building and the feeling of an ancient civilization long gone were lost on Artha as he saw his friends.

From across the expanse of a chasm that breathed out hot air from the lava that flowed beneath, Kitt and Parm were trapped up against the far wall by green trapping gear. They smiled back at Artha.

"Could you get us down from here? Quickly?" Parm quivered and looked between his feet. Kitt and he were trapped against the wall, hanging securely, but below them was the river of lava. Parm's feet dangled in the air.

"Hold on, I'll get you down." Artha shouted at them and walked Beau to the edge of the chasm and looked into it. He looked back up at his friends. How was he going to get them down?

"I have an idea," Artha called out to them, inspiration striking. "You aren't too far away for Beau to mag. So I'll knock the trapping gear off you, then Beau will mag you over here."

"Oh, great." Parm said unenthusiastically as he stared down at the red river.

"It's okay," Kitt said. "Artha will get us down. I have faith in him."

"Well…uh, thanks Kitt. I'll free Parm first because…" Artha trailed off, looking at the quivering Parm. "Because he hates heights most."

Parm forced his eyes away from below and stared at the solid ground Artha stood upon. "Alright, I'm ready."

Beau nodded to Artha, to indicate that he too was ready. Beau stood at the very brink of the chasm and gave Artha a stream of mag energy, who concentrated it into his hands. Pram prepared himself by closing his eyes. "Oh," came a disturbingly familiar voice, "I wouldn't do that. Not now. It could be too dangerous."

"Moordryd!" Artha vexed and twisted around to see the smirking Paynn on his dragon. When Beau growled at Decepshun, she grinned back at him. "What did you do to them? Why?"

Moordryd laughed. "I haven't hurt them, if that's what you mean. I haven't hurt them yet."

"Why would you hurt them?" Artha frowned.

"This is my backup plan, Dragon Blunder. My father was wrong about the Shadow Track and I can't return with nothing. So I contacted Drakkus, who had already sided with my father and me, and I sent him out to stop you from getting here." Moordryd paused and looked distastefully at Artha. "How did you defeat Drakkus? You should've bee…forget it." Moordryd stopped when he saw Artha grinning.

Artha felt absurdly pleased with the fact that he was so far ruining Moordryd's plans and that Moordryd was surprised he had beaten Drakkus. Artha felt like a force to be reckoned with. "So why did you want to stop me from getting here?"

"Because, I'm trying to find out your identity from the stable brats here. I know they know."

Artha glanced worriedly at Kitt and Parm. "Don't worry, we didn't say anything." Kitt assured him.

"Not yet." Moordryd grinned at them.

Artha glared back at Moordryd. "What were you doing to them?"

Moordryd shrugged. "Nothing too much. Want to watch, Dragon Boo-Boo?"

"Of course not!" Artha retorted, affronted that Moordryd would suggest such a thing.

"Hey egghead!" Moordryd yelled to Parm. "Who is the Dragon Booster?"

"I'm…I'm not saying!" Parm said and held his chin up.

Moordryd grabbed a small remote from his jacket. Being so small, it was slightly concealed by his hands so Artha didn't get a good look at it. He could tell, however, that Moordryd pushed a button, immediately resulting in Parm's scream.

"Parm!" Artha yelled as the green trapping gear holding his friend began to loosen and slip. Parm looked between his toes to the fiery death beneath. His back scraped against the firm wall as he slid down. When Moordryd stopped his sliding, Parm breathed a sigh of relief.

"Tell, or you fall!" Moordryd called. Parm shuddered as the trapping gear slipped some more and he started to slowly inch down to the lava five hundred meters below. He looked at Kitt who was now higher than he and seemed to gain some defiance. He set his mouth in a firm line. He wasn't telling, not yet.

Artha watched in horror. It was only a matter of time until the trapping gear let go of the wall completely. But Moordryd wouldn't do that, would he?

"Moordryd, this is you last chance, stop it!"

"Not until he tells me!" Moordryd yelled back.

"If you won't stop, I'll just have to stop you!"

"Back off!" Moordryd said viciously and held up the remote so Artha could see it and his finger poised above the button. "Stay back or I drop him!"

Artha sneered at him. "Then I'll go catch him!" Parm looked from Moordryd to Artha and then down at the lava, not at all liking the idea of falling.

Moordryd said nothing in return, but growled in irritation. He knew Beau could fly and could fairly easily catch Parm, free Kitt and glide back up to safety. However, he pressed the button lightly, causing a small scream from Parm as the trapping gear loosened its grip some more. Beau backed up to the edge of the chasm, ready to immediately jump off if Parm fell.

As Artha glared at Moordryd, Moordryd rubbed his finger lightly over the button, threatening to push it. "You're ruining my plans, Dragon Booster." He snarled at Artha.

"Good," came Artha's simple reply. Artha glanced quickly to Parm to make sure he was holding up okay, then turned back to Moordryd and watched him with a careful eye. His heart was thudding in his chest. What if he hadn't come here in time? Artha twitched his sweaty fingers. But he was here now, and he could save Parm and Kitt.

The Shadow Track felt the Dragon Booster's ebbing fears and threatened to release him. It was on the verge of doing so, but Moordryd had another trick up his sleeve. Not ready to let go of the Dragon Booster just yet and knowing what tactics had kept Artha in the Shadow Track this length of time wasn't working anymore, Moordryd called out to him.

"Where's your little brother?"

Moordryd's barking laugh made Artha's pulse increased as he realized the missing Lance.

"Dragon Booster," Moordryd said in a dead tone. "You don't want to see what's happened to Lance. Be ready to lose him."

The tactic worked. "No!" Artha screamed, imagining the worst. The Shadow Track strengthened again, feeling Artha's fears of losing his little brother. It fed upon the fears and refused to let him go.

----------

It was 3002 AB, a day after the new year had begun. Word smiled almost happily to himself, something he was doing quite frequently. Certain things were finally going according to plan. Word settled back in his chair, tapped his fingers and claws together and sighed. What a war.

Ever since the Dragon Booster had been trapped around two years ago - Word himself could barely believe it had been that long, or that the Dragon Booster had actually been trapped for that length of time - the world had delved deep into tumult. Word frowned upon the weak resistance the cities had managed to scrounge together as an appalling attempt to free the Dragon Booster. Of course it had failed and he had gotten new wraiths from the whole incident. But during that time, the Prophets had also made it perfectly clear that they were not one to lay around while all this happened. Their interference in the battle had been a bother. Word hated to think back upon it, but they had also captured quite a lot of his wraiths and now they were a force to be reckoned with. Word stared at his claws. He would live from his mistakes. The Prophets hadn't yet tried a direct attack on him, but when they did, they would be crushed.

Word breathed deeply and smiled again. Those were in the past, gone and done. Word now looked to the future.

Of the thirteen draconium cities, most had fallen. Dragon City and Oceania, the light blue city, were the first to fall completely under Word's control. The red, brown, green, blue and purple were next, as the wraiths all over the world hearkened to Word. Unfortunately, at the onset of everything, the wraiths in the turquoise city had been overcome by a surprise force from the grey city. The turquoise city was a free city, ruled by humans and a few dragons who worked with them. As far as Word knew, the grey city, or encampment rather, was free as well, though it disliked refugees of any sort and preferred to remain closed to the world.

Word wasn't much startled at the white city, White Cliffs, at how few wraiths had been in there. White Cliffs had remained a free city too, and was the headquarters for the Dragon Booster's allies, up until a few months ago. The Prophets had recently convinced the dragons in it to rebel and White Cliffs now belonged to them. The few humans that escaped were forced to find another refuge.

Only three cities remained, the black, light green and orange cities. The light green was as lost and mysterious as it ever was. The orange was the Prophets main base, since Propheci had been driven out of the Old City. The black, Vision City, was a free city as well. Word received no news about it and knew nothing other than that. Any scouts he sent were somehow…lost.

No matter. Seven of thirteen cities were under his control. His wraith army was stupendous, far larger than anything before. It dwarfed the armies of the original Dragon-Human war and dwarfed further the armies of today.

"I feel somewhat overlooked."

Word sighed inwardly and kept his irritation to himself. He turned in his chair to face his guest, who was guarded by two human wraiths and four wraith dragons. "Are you now?" Word asked smoothly.

"As it seems…yes."

"Terribly sorry for neglecting you."

The Dragon Priest pursed his lips together in annoyance. "I came here to talk, Word Paynn. Not to be ignored."

Word let a tiny smirk crawl across his face. The Dragon priest, properly armored in the Priest's armor, twitched his fingers in growing irritation. Other than that, his outward appearance showed no other sign of his emotions, as Dragon Priests should be in control of themselves. But Word had noticed the slight lapse of control. All the better.

"I realize that. Have I not said I would talk with you? An ambassador from the Dragon Priests and from the allies of the missing Dragon Booster. This is a serious meeting. The world is in an uproar."

"The allies of the Dragon Booster now call themselves the Gold Empire. And the world is in an uproar because of your actions."

Word laughed. "The Gold Empire? Forgive me, but this Gold Empire is nothing more than a ragged band of refugees. Hardly an empire."

"We are more than a ragged band of refugees," the Dragon Priest said defensively, then fell silent, not wanting to tell more of them to Word. Word shrugged imperturbably. "Word Paynn," he continued, regaining his composure. "This war you have started…"

"Silence. I know what I have done and I know why you are here." Word cut him off with a wave of his hand. "You and the other Dragon Priests think that this new way of life is a complete violation of free will. You want humans and dragons to live together in harmony. But that will never happen!" Word snapped and slammed his balled fist on the armrest of his chair.

The Dragon Priest was silent. Word glared at him and continued. "There are dragons and humans out there, who will not, absolutely not work together. That number is growing, and has always grown. In order for your perfect world to come into being, you must exterminate them. They will not change their minds, not without the Dragon of Legend. And even if he were to return, there are those who will oppose you. Then, in the future, humans will once again enslave dragons. History will continue to repeat itself."

The Dragon Priest remained silent, seemingly milling Word's philosophy over in his mind. Then he at length spoke. "And how will you change things? How many have you killed? Word, what you have done is beyond cruel.

"I thought you were here to discuss peace terms, not to argue about our different viewpoints." Word said calmly. The Dragon Priest fell silent, though still very much against Word's plans. Word grinned as he stared at the Dragon Priest, causing him to shift slightly. This Dragon priest was rash, for a priest, and Word wondered why they hadn't sent a more levelheaded one. Perhaps there were no others available to send.

Word suddenly spoke up before the Dragon Priest could say more and spoke with a mocking smile. "Why don't we begin our peace negotiations now? Allow me to begin." Word leaned forward to look the Dragon Priest as best he could in the eye. He spoke slowly and deliberately. "I will withdraw my wraiths from the blue city, the entire city, if…"

The Dragon Priest waited impatiently. "The entire city?"

Word smiled. "That will be helpful to you, won't it? Does me handing over the blue draconium city to you sound like something the Gold Empire would want?" Word barely managed to keep a cynical tone out of his voice as he mentioned the Gold Empire.

"I'm worried what you will ask in return. Though it is something we would greatly appreciate. It certainly has a strategic location."

Word never let his smile leave his face. This Dragon Priest talked too much. "In return for a whole city, I want one person. Just one person for an entire city. Mortis."

The Dragon Priest frowned. "What?"

"I want Mortis brought to me, bound and unconscious. Simply give me that, and the city is yours."

"What…you expect me to agree to that? What will happen to Mortis?"

"Don't concern yourself with that. Do we have a deal? Or must I better my offer?"

"I…we will not give you anyone to mistreat!"

"I will give you the blue draconium city and all the wraiths presently within it. I'll even free them all if you wish. That would be around nearly fifty thousand wraiths."

Word's evident rashness caused the Dragon Priest to question darkly. "Why is Mortis so important to you, that you would give up a huge benefit in this war?"

Word ignored him. He had reasons, reasons that did cause him to make imprudent choices in the war. But at the moment, Word wanted something more important than the war. Revenge. "Agree to the proposition. Your reward is more than the city and the wraiths…it is your life."

"Wha…" The Dragon Priest was cut off as the wraiths guarding him growled at him. He looked around, knowing he was thoroughly watched over. He also knew that Word was speaking the truth. "You can't…"

"I can. And other than this proposal, I have no further matters to discuss with you."

The Dragon Priest looked once more at the wraiths and their vicious teeth, before turning back to Word and speaking in a bold voice, one that did not waver. "I will not agree to such an offer. I cannot and will not make the decision to give up a friend of mine for you to maltreat. The Gold Empire will know how this meeting has ended if I do not return."

"You cannot hope to escape." Word said bluntly as the wraiths leaned forward to the Dragon Priest.

"I know." He said in response, and Word somewhat admired the man. The Dragon Priest moved forward quickly to Word, who had waited for that exact move. But the Dragon Priest moved faster than Word had anticipated. A golden mag-push from his hand exploded on the VIDDscreens behind Word, who had just barely managed to move his head in the nick of time.

Word responded by throwing a mag-push of his own. The Dragon Priest jumped onto Word's desk and fired off another mag-push, one that collided with Word's in mid air, which was quite an accomplishment considering the lack of distance between them. At the exact same time, another mag-push from the Dragon Priest's other hand flew through the air, catching Word on the shoulder. Word was thrown back to slam against his VIDDscreens, shaking the entire console.

The fight ended there as a human wraith behind the Dragon Priest grabbed his ankles and threw him down from the table. The Priest struggled to get to his feet, but one of the wraiths struck him quickly. The Dragon Priest took a glancing blow to his helmet and fell down again. The bipedal wraith put a hind foot on his abdomen and screamed at his face.

Word noticed a growing stain of blood on his orange robes. He tried not to appear at all weak or badly injured as he stood.

He faced the Dragon Priest, breathing heavily from the fight. The Dragon Priest glared at him, then slammed his head against the floor and yelled in anguish about his coming doom and his inability to complete what he had come to do.

"Quite quick with the mag energy." Word complimented him.

"Are you going to kill me now?" The Dragon Priest asked darkly.

Word looked at him with a deep thinking expression on his face, though he had already made up his mind. "Oh, I'll leave that up to Skin."

The Dragon Priest lowered his head back to the ground as the wraith took its foot off him. Two human wraiths lifted him to his feet and clamped a black jamming gear onto his shoulder. The Dragon Priest hung his head and stared at the ground, waiting for Skin as the black jamming gear, Word's newest invention, prohibited him from using his mag energy. Word liked his new gear. Unlike an energy drain whip, which drained the energy and left the subject weak and exhausted, this gear merely prohibited the subject from using the energy, which they could immediately start using again as soon as the gear was taken off. Word didn't want the Dragon Priest worn out or fallen nearly unconscious, he wanted him to feel helpless.

As if on cue, Skin then entered the citadel, features cloaked by a dark hood. Walking to them from a far door, the dark figure walked strongly to them in high, heavy boots. The dull echoes of the footsteps increased and then stopped their death beat as Skin stood beside Word Paynn. Standing nearly just as tall as he, Skin looked intently at the Dragon Priest, who looked intently back.

"Who is Skin?" he dared to question

Word smirked at him, then turned to Skin. "Why, my most skilled spy and questioner." Skin stood confidently, arms folded in a leisurely and deadly way. "Extremely skilled in those areas. Especially the questioning. Skin has very productive methods of making people talk."

"You're going to have me questioned before you kill me?"

"Of course. A little more knowledge of this Gold Empire will prove useful to me before you die. You should have accepted my proposal. Have you changed your mind?"

"You must be mad to even propose something like that. I do not change my mind, even if it means my life. And he," the Dragon Priest motioned to Skin with his head, "will not be able to make me talk."

Skin snarled, then walked briskly to stand in front of the Dragon Priest. "He?"

Skin threw back the black hood to reveal the face of a woman, a beautiful woman, yet a deadly one. Her dark purple hair was tied in a tight bun as she looked the Dragon Priest up and down, her momentary anger of being referred to as a he forgotten. Her eyes would have been a dull green colour, had they not been highlighted to a vicious glint by the scar that snaked from the middle of her forehead, across her right eye and then vanished half way down her cheek. The Dragon Priest tried not to wonder what was beneath the eye patch on her right eye; perhaps nothing. Skin's snarl returned and replaced the brief look of serene scrutiny.

"Thought only a dim witted man would be the one to kill you?" She snapped. She smiled as the Dragon Priest licked his lips in apprehension. Her eyes looked at him coolly. "You will talk, trust me. I will extract every last bit of information from your head." She tapped him lightly on his helmet as she said the last bit.

"Take him away." Word said and waved his claws around. "Feel free to do whatever you wish to him after he's talked. But be sure he's not breathing when you've finished."

Skin nodded curtly, then strode off with the human wraiths dragging the Dragon Priest behind. "Word Paynn, you…" The Dragon Priest's last words were cut short as the huge door clanged behind them.

The echo resounded in the citadel as Word sat once again in his chair. It was then he noticed the blood on his shoulder and the gash beneath his robes. He had forgotten about it. But that was perhaps a drawback to his amulet. He didn't feel any pain.

Word picked up the amulet hanging around his neck and held it between two fingers. He had done it. The amulet was made of black shadow draconium and was so far the first thing Word had been able to make from the black shadow draconium samples Moordryd had given him years ago.

He had found one of the secrets of the Shadow Track. What the black shadow draconium could do. His amulet was made in the shape of his company logo and was the same, intense purplish colour of the draconium. The draconium had the power to preserve life in the Shadow Track, so that the captive did not have to eat or drink to live. And so that the captive did not age while in the Shadow Track. Through years of research, Word had finally, over three months ago, managed to make the amulet. The amulet, as long as it was in close contact with Word, preserved him as it would if he were in the Shadow Track.

Word grinned. Over the past three months, he had not aged. He had not drunk or eaten or felt any pain. Word clutched the amulet tightly in his right hand. He would live to rule the world for a long, long time to come and find the Ancient Hall of Records, so he could build more formidable weapons from the black shadow draconium. He would be the greatest ruler there ever was. He would have thousands of years to learn from his mistakes, with not a worry about sickness or death from age. And that was okay with him.

Normally, living that long would be the worst punishment one could ever have. Outliving friends and family and living on this detestable planet for so long would be a nightmare. But Word had no family to outlive, nor anyone to miss.

Of course, in the future he would be able to make another amulet and give it to someone he deemed worthy. But he had no notion of doing that now. Only Moordryd would he have made it for….

Word clutched the amulet tighter in his grasp, the sharp edges biting into his skin. He would have Mortis. He would have Mortis for what he had done to him. Mortis had killed the only person left on the planet that Word cared for. Word breathed heavily in anticipation for what he would do to Mortis. No one killed his son and got away with it.

He was getting desperate now, now that he hadn't yet found Mortis. The proposal he had made to the Dragon Priest had been foolish and Word suspected that it wouldn't work. But if Skin were to find where the Gold Empire was hiding, Word would be able to find Mortis and bring him back. Not to kill him, but to torture him. To look into his eyes and see the pain, pain that Word was living daily.

Word sighed and let the amulet go. Red blood ran thinly down his hand where the sharp edges had pierced him. But he didn't feel it.

----------

"Lance! Magna Draconis, Lance!" Artha felt helpless and afraid. He couldn't reach Lance.

"Dragon Booster!" Lance wailed, tears choking his voice. "Get me out of here." His voice cracked on the last sentence as he burst into tears. With tears running rivulets down his cheeks, he pleaded with his older brother to do something.

But Artha couldn't. Moordryd laughed from where he had somehow gotten beside Lance. Artha couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it before. On his left was a huge expanse of lava, a boiling red death trap. With the heat hovering above it, Artha couldn't hope to jump or fly across, and as such, he couldn't reach Lance. Lance and Moordryd were on the far side of the lake. Lance was on the ground with closed eyes now, cowering from Moordryd Paynn.

"I said, who's the Dragon Booster?" He yelled at Lance. Lance curled up into a tight ball, with nowhere to go. The platform they were on was a small one.

Cain and the other Dragon Eyes grinned at Artha maliciously, guarding Kitt, Parm and him. There were perhaps fifty altogether in the strange building in the Old City.

"Do something Dragon Booster!" Cain taunted from Coershun. "Save him before he's hurt or killed." The Dragon Eyes laughed in agreement.

"Yeah," Rancydd sneered. "But wait, he can't. He can't do anything."

Artha glared at them, wishing he could fight them. But there were too many and they were content to let him listen to Lance scream. Artha's pulsed quickened as Moordryd advanced on Lance again, yelling at him. Artha was too far away and the heat waves dancing in the air distorted his vision so he couldn't quite see what Moordryd was doing to Lance. However, after Lance apparently rebuked Moordryd again, he whimpered and Moordryd yelled at him. Again.

Artha moved forward involuntarily and looked helplessly to Lance, muscles tightened in anxiousness. The Dragon Eyes around him chuckled. "You can't do anything. Face it. The brat will talk eventually." Cain said cynically. Artha wiped his mouth, longing to wipe his forehead instead. It was so hot. Why wasn't anyone else hot?

"Lance wouldn't talk. He…" Artha trailed off, beginning to wish Lance would, just so Moordryd would stop hurting him.

Cain chuckled. "Oh, he will. Moordryd will make sure of that. Lance will be hurt and we'll all know your identity. Scary thought, isn't it?" Artha had to agree with Cain. "And you can't stop any of this. What kind of a Dragon Booster are you?" Cain smirked at Artha and decided to answer his own question. "A pathetic one. Your dragon is even a sad replacement for the original Dragon of Legend."

Artha glanced down at Beau, who was staring forlornly across the lake of lava to Lance. "Don't listen to him boy. Think of all we've accomplished." Beau looked up at Artha, almost questionably, then smiled uncertainly. Artha gripped the handles tightly and looked over to Lance, still as full as fear as he had been since Moordryd had started hurting his little broth…

"Wait." Artha said determinedly. "Moordryd!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled. Moordryd turned to Artha and Lance skittered away from him as far as the small platform would allow. "Remember before, when I hadn't realized Lance was missing yet?"

"...yeah. So?" Moordryd asked, irritated at being interrupted.

"Well, you said, where's your little brother? Then you mentioned Lance. If you know Lance is my little brother, then why are you trying to find out who I am from him? You're not that stupid. Something's wrong here."

From across the lava, Artha could barely see Moordryd pause in uncertainty. The Dragon Eyes around him shifted. Beau narrowed his eyes as he realized it too. Artha looked around him, ignoring Lance, Kitt and Parm's cries for help. It was hard, but he tried his best to focus on his surroundings. He thought back to when he had first jumped out of the Shadow Track and how the clearing was different. Then it hit him.

"We never got out of the Shadow Track." Artha whispered. Beau stiffened.

"Of course you did!" Moordryd shouted at him. "You aren't in it!"

"Yes I am! And how did you hear me? I was whispering. None of this is real. I…" Artha slapped a hand to his helmet. "While I'm stuck in here, Moordryd's got the draconium samples!"

"No he doesn't!" Kitt said earnestly from where she was still trapped against the wall. "You aren't in the Shadow Track! Moordryd's hurting Lance badly. You should…"

"Be quiet. I can't believe I didn't know." Artha mumbled. "I've been here before…"

"And you won't leave now." Moordryd said with eyes white and shining, no longer pretending. "You're still trapped as long as you have your fears."

Artha glared at the Shadow Track's illusion. "What fears?"

"You're afraid of losing your friends, you're afraid for their safety and afraid that I'll find out your secret." Moordryd sneered at him.

"I am. But this isn't real. I'm not afraid if…if Lance gets hurt now. He's not my brother." Artha pointed out. Oddly enough, he could see Lance clearly now, enough though he was still on the other side of the lake. He was looking right at Artha, a look which Artha had only seen on him before when he was absolutely hurt inside. His eyes grew big and teary, stabbing Artha right in his heart. What was he doing? That was Lance.

Artha shook his head and gained new resolve. "You aren't Lance!"

Lance looked momentarily stunned, then snarled at Artha, his eyes suddenly white. Artha had won, and the Shadow Track shimmered and Artha's illusion broke. The illusion around him faded, and gradually, the Shadow Track came into view.

"You haven't won! Not by a long shot!"

Moordryd's screams lingered in the air as the draconium surrounding Artha and Beau shattered. Beau shook his head and roared triumphantly, replacing the fading sound of Moordryd's ill omen.

"Hey, boy! We did it! Again!" Artha laughed victoriously. Beau chuckled with him and stretched his body dramatically. Almost immediately after, he sprang into a gallop in the direction of the entrance. Artha barely had time to grab the handles to avoid falling off.

"Wait Beau!" Artha said and pulled back on the handles. Beau skidded to a stop, noticing why Artha had stopped him. Just before his front paws, lay a bomb. Or to be more exact, a very powerful mag grenade. Beau peered inquisitively at it, then magged it to Artha.

"Seems as though Moordryd forgot something," Artha said and put it safely in a compartment of his saddle. Beau ran off again. As the ecstatic feeling of victory ad the sweet taste of freedom somewhat passed, Artha found himself worrying. How long had they been stuck? More than a few minutes, he was sure. Ten or so minutes? Perhaps half an hour. At any rate, Moordryd would've raced out of the track with his prize. Artha had to hope Kitt and the others had caught him. Artha urged Beau to go faster. He had to hurry if he wanted to help them. Lance was probably worried about him, since he had not come out with Moordryd.

Artha grasped how lucky they were that they actually remembered the way they had come from. Both Beau and he almost got lost, but a few moments of deliberation on which way to go had them confidently running along. Artha didn't like being vulnerable and nervous in the Shadow Track, and was glad when the familiar pathway to the entrance came into view, though it didn't look as familiar as it should have.

Beau opened his eyes in surprise and slowed down, stopping before the huge pile of boulders and parts of the cliff blocking the way. "What?" Artha leaned forward in the saddle. "Moordryd. He blocked the entrance so I couldn't get out and stop him." Beau growled softly in his throat, surveying the rubble. How to get through? "Try magging some of the rocks away."

Beau and Artha both sent mag-pulls to a particular boulder that seemed to be blocking quite a bit. But try as they might, it wouldn't budge. Artha quit his mag-pull and sighed dismally. "We'll have to mag away all the smaller rocks first. And while we're busy doing this, Moordryd's getting away." Artha slammed his fist onto his saddle in exasperation. Beau murmured, as if to say that Kitt and the others would stop him. Artha felt reassured and when Beau started to mag-pull smaller rocks away from the main heap, he helped.

After about ten minutes had passed, Artha was becoming more than exasperated. This was taking too long and when he tried his comm-link, he got no answer. He glanced near the top and found a medium sized boulder to mag down. But when he lifted it from its place, a mini rock slide tumbled down.

"Yeah, now we're getting somewhere!" He exclaimed. Then the mini rock slide turned in to a medium sized rock slide. Heavy boulders and stone that made up the ceiling near the entrance began to slip out of place and fall roughly to the ground. "Then again," Artha said, staring at the collapsing ceiling, "maybe not. The whole entrance is falling down!"

Of course, the rest of the Shadow Track was made of black shadow dracomium and didn't threaten to collapse like the entrance was doing. Artha didn't care whether the track itself wasn't going to cave in, he cared whether the entrance collapsed and made the already huge pile of rocks blocking the doorway even bigger. The ground shook and rocks shuddered.

Beau's roar turned his head right to the ceiling above him, where the stone was cracking and began to fall. Artha covered his head with his hands and prepared for a hurtful encounter. But as he cringed against the falling rock, a few pebbles bounced off his helmet and the track grew silent. The potential cave in was over.

Artha lifted his arms from his head and sighed in relief, relief that he wasn't going to become thoroughly trapped in the track. "What did Moordryd do, bring down the whole cliff? He…of course!" As Beau coughed slightly from the bit of rising dust, Artha reached into his saddle and brought out the mag grenade. "Moordryd must've had more of these, and…and blocked the entrance by blowing up the side of the cliff!" He exclaimed the last part rather triumphantly, pleased with himself for figuring it out.

Artha quieted down and looked at the blockage again. "It'll take Earth-class dragon to move that mess. Unless…"

Beau looked from Artha, to the grenade, then back again with a growing uneasy look on his face. "But…setting off the grenade would just bring down the whole cliff." Beau breathed a sigh of relief. "But then again, it's so powerful it would bow a hole right through this mess." Artha mused things over, staring at the grenade. Beau tensed. "I got it! If we blow up the rocks there, then run right through with a mag-shield, then maybe we could get through before the other rocks actually fell." Beau looked at Artha as if he were crazy and shook his head.

"What else do you want to try? Can we really wait for them to get Earth-class dragons and clear the mess?" Beau shook his head ever so slightly. Artha, not feeling so sure of his idea anymore, stammered, "then…I guess we'll have to try this."

Beau looked at the pile of rocks and narrowed his eyes. He magged the grenade from Artha's hand and stuck it in between two boulders. He was the Dragon of Legend. They had to get out now. He backed up as the red light began to blink, warning of an imminent detonation. He crouched behind a boulder as Artha covered his ears and prepared for a mag-dome.

The high beeping of the grenade vibrated throughout the Shadow Track, and then stopped. Then it exploded.

Huge gouts of hot air and fire gusted through the rock, blasting a huge hole in the entrance. "Now!" Artha yelled and Beau ran forward, a mag-dome surrounding them and protecting them from the intense heat and falling rocks.

The grenade had been more powerful than Artha had expected. An absolutely enormous hole opened up before them, and for a moment, Artha had a clear view to the outside. Then the dust and rocks began to fall after being tossed up into the air by the explosion. "Almost there!" Artha yelled, and Beau gave on last effort and jumped over and under rocks to the outside. When he hit the ground again, he kept running. Artha kept the mag-dome over them as they ran away, the deafening crashing of the cliff as it now fell fully radiating in his ears. Rocks even fell around them as they reached the other end of the clearing, or so Artha supposed. A cloud of dust rushed out from the fallen cliff and charged towards the fleeing dragon and human with astounding speed. Though the mag-dome kept out the dust and rocks and kept them safe, it also distorted his vision, leaving the Old City around them to swirl in a golden, hazy scene.

Had the dust not been swirling all around them, Artha would have had a better view of his surroundings, but as such, he couldn't see ten dracometers in front of him. But he realized Beau and he should've reached the other end of the clearing by now. But they kept running, unhindered by the antediluvian ruins of the Old City.

Presently, the dust thinned and Artha could see somewhat better. Feeling that it was safe enough to get rid of his mag-dome, he did so and was able to look around without the golden tinge. He intended to look back at the Shadow Track and see what remained of the entrance, but his attention was diverted as he saw what had become of the Old City.

There was nothing left. Oh, there was something left, just not the usual ruins of the city. What was left were broken and torn banners flapping weakly in the breeze, dented remains of armor for both dragons and humans, a scarred earth and fallen weapons amidst the now flat and barren landscape of the Old City.

Artha and Beau gaped. What had once been a puzzling maze of debris and wreckage now lay a flat land. Artha could see for miles in either direction. "Beau…what happened? Our explosion didn't do that…" Beau made no sound in return, but looked blankly at the new terrain around them. What in the Magna Draconis had happened? Then Beau looked back to the Shadow Track. Artha looked back as well.

He could see the still monstrous hill that covered the Shadow Track, though the part where the entrance had been was now completely fallen and destroyed, leaving a huge gouge in the rock face. "Wow. What a bomb." But that scene, what Artha had originally thought would be so astonishing to see, paled in comparison to what was left of the Old City.

"Let's go, boy." Artha said and hunkered down in the saddle, turning his eyes away from the Shadow Track. Beau responded to his touch and started walking.

Artha eyed the strange new landscape around them. "What happened here?" He asked and saw a broken lance and a torn banner. "It looks like a battle." Artha stopped Beau and jumped from the saddle to examine the battle field more closely. His foot hit something and he picked up a helmet, which had been blown in half. He wondered what had happened to the person who had worn this.

Dropping it quickly, he wiped his hands on his armor. "This couldn't have happened. We must…we must've been trapped in the Shadow Track for more than a day at least. I…a week?" Beau looked at him and shook his head. Battles took time to organize and to actually happen. "A month then?" Artha asked weakly. Beau nodded uncertainly. Artha looked at the ground with clenched teeth. "I should have been here…to do something. Maybe this was because Moordyd got the samples to Word…maybe Kitt hadn't been able to stop him. This is all my fault!"

Artha yelled in exasperation and sat quickly on the ground and buried his head in his hands. Beau nudged him with his chin, to let him know he was still around and that he shared the blame. Artha didn't move.

A sudden, hopeless gust of wind raced past them. Dust swirled up and torn and burned banners beyond recognition flapped in the wind. Beau and Artha both lifted their heads and turned around as they heard a particularly loud flapping sound. Behind Artha was a banner.

It stretched out in the wind and was, unlike all the others, intact. Artha stared at the design on it. It was his crew symbol, a golden star.

"What? How…" He reached for it and grabbed it, pulling the broken end of the staff along with it. He, as Beau looked over his shoulder, lay it out before him. "What's this doing here? What was this… a crew war? Why was my crew in it?" Artha looked at it a while longer, than folded it carefully. "Beau…do you think Parm, Kitt or Lance was involved…or…"

Beau received a sudden idea and nudged Artha and lowered his head to his level. Artha jumped on the saddle, leaving the torn banner on the ground. He frantically tried his com-link. "Kitt? Parm? Lance? Dad?" But for each of the different numbers he tried, nothing happened. Just static. "What? Are they out of reach or did they change their numbers? Maybe this is broken."

Artha hit the saddle and turned off the comm-link angrily. "What in the Magna Draconis happened?" He yelled to the air. His voice echoed and nothing answered. He felt like Beau and he were the only living things left on the planet. "Let's go find someone." Artha said, both angry and frightened. This felt like the Shadow Track again with the surreal surroundings. Artha bent and picked up the banner as Beau lifted his head. This he stuffed into his saddle compartment as Beau walked off in the direction of the nearest drag way leading up into Down City.

The surrounding war scene stayed the same as they traveled. It must have been a massive battle, fought with mag-moves. What else could have leveled the Old City? All around he saw remains of more star banners, then finally, after five minutes of silent walking, he saw a banner from the other side. It was black, white, purple, and it was the logo for Paynn Inc. The logo for Word's super company on a battle banner? None of this made sense. Beau and Artha stared at the charred standard as they walked past, and neither of them made a movement to pick it up.

It was later, and though they had now walked for a half hour, they saw no signs of life. It was if all crow-drags had disappeared and all the hydrags had moved out. Even after the battle field had ended and the familiar ruins of the Old City once again rose from the ground, the Old City remained dead.

"We should be coming to the drag-way in a bit," Artha said, referring to the drag-way they had used to follow Moordryd to the Shadow Track. There were the known statues and fallen pillars, and now just to walk around a crumbled building and the drag-way would be right ahead. Though, it would be if it weren't destroyed.

Beau stopped and stared at it dumbly. "Great," Artha said, "what else is destroyed?" Beau sighed and turned to a new destination, leaving behind the giant drag-way, now nearly completely demolished and completely unusable.

They trudged and wound their way through the Old City, heading for the southern drag-way, one of the biggest drag-ways leading into the city. There was a town around this drag-way; Artha would try to get some information from there.

Both bored and on edge, if both feelings were possible to be together, Beau yawned and wished for some sign, sound or even a track of some creature. The Old City was too deathly quiet. There were no sounds.

Beau's chin was inches above the ground as he walked with head low and distraught. He opened his eyes wide and grunted in exclamation as he saw a paw print belonging to a dragon. 'What is it?" Artha asked and looked. Before them were the fresh tracks of a bipedal dragon. "What dragon would be down here?" Artha asked, and then wished he hadn't.

A low growling came from before them, as if the dragon suddenly appeared to answer Artha's question. Artha and Beau looked ahead to see the tracks suddenly stop. Dust shifted as the invisible dragon moved its foot. "Great, wraith dragon."

The dragon roared at them and was answered by another from behind. "Great, two wraiths dragons. Come on, Beau, let's just outrun them."

Beau agreed. He wanted to run after simply walking for so long. He jumped into a sprint and dashed away from the now pursuing wraiths. They roared, one visible and one not, and snapped their jaws. Artha looked back and waved as Beau pulled away from them and left them behind in the maze of ruins.

Artha felt concerned. The wraiths hadn't really tried to keep up, which was unexpected, especially since he was wearing his Dragon Booster suit. Perhaps Word had better things to do with them.

Not too long after, Beau roared, signaling that they were nearing the town and the southern drag-way. A slight rise rose before them and Beau galloped to the top, which he immediately stopped and backed away from, nearly pitching Artha over the saddle in the sudden stop of speed.

Before the small hill blocked his view as they backed down the way they had come, Artha saw why Beau didn't want to go any further. He had caught a glimpse of the town, alive and bustling with humans and dragons. But the humans were cringing from their oppressors and hurrying about their business quickly. Their oppressors were wraith dragons, all of which had human wraiths. It seemed as though the wraiths had control of the town.

And how could Captain Faier allow that if they didn't have control of Dragon City too? Artha thought bleakly as Beau and he looked for cover. They didn't want to be seen by the wraiths. Artha's hope of finding his friends or discovering any sort of explanation for everything disappeared abruptly. It was replaced with the intense feeling that came around whenever he was lost and fearful. He hated that feeling.

They stopped and waited behind a pile of rocks, a perfectly hidden place behind old, twisted trees. Beau smiled up at Artha, raising his spirits a little.

"Well, what next?" Artha asked his dragon. Beau pointed his chin towards the town. Artha sighed. "I guess you're right. We need to find out what's happened."

He jumped down from the saddle and took the amulet out of his gauntlet, reverting to his normal self. "You stay here. I'll come back soon after I've found out what's happened. The wraiths look as if they're just guarding the humans. I'll blend in and come right back." Beau nodded as if to wish him good luck. Artha took a deep breath and crept out of the densely packed trees and made his way to infiltrate the town of wraiths. He wondered what he would find.