A scream of pain from behind.

"What's that?" Frelsa asked. The sound was full of pain and anguish, followed soon after by another scream.

"Would rather not find out," Shepherd muttered. "Come on."

"Dog, we have to get our swords, do you know where they keep them?" She asked the little boy.

He twiddled with his thumbs. His body always seemed to be in motion, never resting for a moment. "Your swords? I know, they are kept in that room!"

"What room?" She asked as the boy shot down the hall.

"I show you!"

They raced down the hall, turning and winding down the intricate passages within the keep.

Frelsa turned a corner with Shepherd, struggling to keep Dog in sight, but found nothing but air where the child should have been. She stared down the empty hallway.

"Dog!" Shepherd hissed. Nothing answered. Another scream echoed from far away.

"Dog!" He called again. Still no answer. Where had the boy gone?

"Okay," He started, turning around even as he spoke, "We backtrack up until the last crossroads, then we-"

Frelsa turned and saw a tall figure blocking their way, a Sentinel. He stared at them with the dark plane of shadow that was his face. He held his staff forth and a red light seemed to emanate from the seven rings.

"Don't look at their… faces!" She commanded Shepherd, turning away remembering her experience at the city square, but it was too late, his eyes had glazed over and seemed to be edging slightly towards the tall blue figure.

She lunged forth and clasped down on her friend's shoulders, struggling to pull him back, but he seemed unable to budge. The Sentinel planted his staff a bit closer, looking down at the two Riders before him.

"Shepherd! Snap out of it!" She shouted but he did not respond.

The Sentinel was silent and stoic as ever, reaching forward slowly with one white, gloved hand.

"Shepherd, please don't," she pleaded. The Sentinel could easily subdue both of them, but she had to get her friend away.

The Sentinel's hand was so close to Shepherd's forehead.

Frelsa strained to pull him back, pushing, pulling, even punching Shepherd in the gut, but he did not respond. He just stared into the Sentinel's eyes. Where its eyes should have been anyway.

The Sentinel's hand already seemed to be on Shepherd's head, but there was the sound of ripping cloth shattering the silence. The Sentinel's hand stiffened and turned into a claw like grasp. Its head hung in pain, the staff in its hand falling to the floor and causing the six floating rings within to fall apart. Another rip, then the robes seemed to fall away, where there should have been a body there was none. Behind the pile of white and blue robes stood an Urgal, one with a copper axe in hand.

She flung her arms around Drukjl, near to tears with gladness. He stumbled back slightly, before he returned the gesture.

Shepherd staggered around a bit. It seemed that the Sentinel had not worked its magic on him, but he was definitely dazed. His eyes seemed indistinct and far away, as if focused on something no one else could see, but some awareness seemed to return when he laid eyes on Drukjl. He spread his arms weakly, "No hugs for me, Ram?"

"Sorry, he's a bit confused after what he just went through."

"Tell you what, Shepherd," Drukjl said, "I bash you a bit, then we see if you still want hugs."

"Wh-What are you doing here?" She asked in wonder.

His expression grew grim and she immediately knew something had happened. "Our dragons are somewhere in this keep, chained down. I was on my way to free them then find you two."

Another morbid scream, followed by clanging metal. She cringed, "Any idea what that is?"

"I may or may not have freed all the prisoners."

A head poked out around the corner. "There you magic scum are! Hurry up, there is many"

Drukjl twirled his axe threateningly, but Frelsa mouthed: No. She explained, "He's a friend, seems to know his way around this place."

He nodded. She continued, "We were going to get our weapons and then head for the dragons-"

"I shall go to our dragons," Drukjl said, already turning around and heading down the passage.

Shepherd halted him, "Do you even know where they are?"

"No, but I have ways."

"Magic scu-u-u-m!" Dog called in a singsong voice.

"Good luck, Ram," Shepherd said.

"I don't need it."

Frelsa grabbed Shepherd, heading down towards the boy.

Dragons hate cages. It's not a matter of individual personality, all dragons are free creatures by nature and hated being locked in cages.

All three of them were kept in their strong-bar-strong-magic-cages, moved into a large room that smelled of dead kills. The rat-nest-humans had not bothered to even clear their cages of the garbage their brethren had thrown.

Brother-of-another-nest-Dýrgrir slammed against the bars of his cages, struggling to bite through the bars. It was no use, as before. All of their attempts to break the bonds had been futile. Errol knew no metal of human make could stand up to them, and knew strong-magic was at work.

Dýrgrir kept on thrashing in his cell while Kalla lay down dejectedly. She had returned to the brooding, miserable state she had been reduced to since their departure from the island. Errol longed to be free of these chains, to be at her side comforting her, but try as he might he could not even free himself. He could not even speak to her. All of them had been silenced the moment they passed beneath the gates of the rat-nest-Feinster.

She gave a mournful roar before laying down again. Errol strained on his strong-magic-chains connected to each corner of his cage. He pulled so hard on his chains it felt as if they would tear the skin from his claws. But he needed to be out of this evil-magic-cage, he hated not having space to stretch his wings, the freedom that had been taken from him. He needed to be out finding his brother-of-soul-and-mind-Shepherd, he wanted to kill those who had undoubtedly captured him and no-past-Frelsa. But above all, he wanted to find those who had stained Kalla's green scales with their waste and rip them limb from limb.

He slammed against the bars again, but the bonds stood fast. As brother-of-another-nest-Dýrgrir continued with his struggle, Errol mulled over how to surpass this strong-magic-strong-cage. The sound of Dýrgrir slamming against the metal bars became almost rhythmic punctuated by mournful rumbles or roars from Kalla. He thought of what the evil voice had said, and had convinced himself it was not true. He was not sure it had even spoken to him.

You're wrong.

The strange-bad-mind-voice never left him for long. He was a fool to ever believe otherwise.

Look at him, just look how he glances at her.

Not true, not true, not true… he chanted to himself. But he could not help himself and looked at Dýrgrir. He did sneak glances at the green dragon between thrashes. Was the bad-mind-voice right? Just the love-sick talking, just the love-sick talking.

Have you noticed it? She looks right back.

It can't be true, no, no. It was like something great-strong was forcing him to look up, to see the truth. Kalla was still in her miserable position, but was her head angled ever so slightly towards Dýrgrir? Did her emerald eyes wander more than once to the brown dragon?

Do you still think he's your brother?

BE QUIET! The strange-evil-voice somehow heard him.

You know I'm right. You know it.

No, no, no, no.

Don't pretend you can't see the sense in my words.

The horrifying truth was, he did. He believed every word the strange-evil-voice fed him and hated himself for him.

You can love her however much you want, she'll never love you back.

Errol could not bring himself to answer.

A scream broke the routine of thrashing against strong-metal. There seemed to be a commotion outside the large wooden door from where their cage had been moved in. More screams and shouts, a body thumping against the doors.

The thick wood and metal doors slammed open. Drukjl stood there, a hallway of unconscious guards behind him.

"Just look at this stuff."

Frelsa looked up as she secured her sword belt, the familiar weight of Delswoir on her waist. Shepherd had his grey sword and inspected the room in awe. It seemed every suspicious article confiscated in this city's history had been moved here.

Huge crates filled to the brim with strange and delicate instruments dominated the room, hundreds of intricate shields and elegant weapons hung on the walls from the floor to the ceiling. Frelsa recognised many as Elven in design. She reached into a crate, it was so high she had to tiptoe, and pulled out a flask of some strange green luminous liquid. "You think it's safe to keep all this stuff in crates?"

"Not at all." Shepherd inspected a short sword that bore the sharp acute angles that were customary of Dwarven design.

"Faster, magic scum," Dog said. She was still a bit puzzled about his name, but more than a little miffed by the names he had given them.

"Not all of us are called 'scum', Dog."

"You're not?"

"We're- never mind. Come on Shepherd."

He was captivated by a gilded metal sphere with what she recognised as a fuse protruding from the top. "What do you think would happen if I-"

"I said come on." She snatched the orb from his hands and placed it in the nearest crate, dragging the other Rider along.

Shepherd closed the door behind them and he asked, "So, um, Dog. Got an idea where our dragons are?"

"What do dragons look like?"

Frelsa was thoroughly shocked. Dragons were the stuff of legend to all, they were universally recognised by all, and she would have expected even the people of Feinster to know them, at least out of fear.

"Uh… how about, big lizards with wings?" Shepherd suggested.

"Big wings, a row of white spines down their back, and big."

"Like, the size of a big horse."

Dog stared at them in puzzlement.

"You know what? Forget that," Shepherd said. "If you had three big animals brought into this keep, where would you keep them if you didn't want them to get away? Besides a menagerie."

"Menagerie?" The boy asked.

"Away from any other animals."

"I dunno," he replied gleefully.

Shepherd frowned, Frelsa thought how Drukjl would have found his way there. He said that he had ways, what sort of?

"Doesn't matter, we just keep going through this keep until we find the dragons," she stated.

The plan was a stupid one, to say the least. They figured it out when they reached the first patrol. The soldier's voices floated over, softly at first.

"Shit, man, did you see what they did to Silus?"

"God that was some messed up shit, throat all torn out and leaking blood…"

"Don't know about you three, but I didn't throw my lot in with Neoettr to get killed by Magic Scum, we have to get out of here."

Frelsa, in the lead, halted and leaned against the wall. The voices were just around the corner.

"How do we go then? The courtyard's a warzone."

"I… I don't know, man, we just keep looking for a way out."

She looked back at her companions, mouthing: Back.

They shuffled down the hall, careful not to make a noise, but evidently they were not fast enough. A shout came from behind, "What the hell? You! Stop!"

Frelsa spun around to face the soldiers advancing on them, swords drawn. Four of them. She and Shepherd could take them, she hoped. It was one thing to learn swordplay, it was another to put it into effect.

As they got closer, Frelsa noticed things about their uniforms and armour. Almost all of them had a tear in their clothes or a dent in their armour, their helmets were pulled low over their faces but could not conceal the cuts that crisscrossed them.

The man asked, "Who are you lot? What are you doing in the keep?"

"Uh…"

"Trun," muttered one of his companions, pointing at their swords, "They've got swords."

The lead soldier, Trun, widened his eyes, before raising his sword so that the steel point rested on her chin. "Now what would three kids like you want with weapons like those, huh?"

"Die, fat man!" Dog rushed forward and kicked Trun so elegantly between the fork of his legs before scurrying away.

As Trun bent over in pain, his allies raised their weapons and rushed forward.

She hurriedly drew Delswoir and quickly leaned out of the way as the first blade came down, before craning to another direction as the second stab came. She tried to strike the first man before she hastily ducked as the second man's blade swept through her hair, slicing off a few strands. Frelsa realised that combat with two opponents was much more difficult than she had expected, she needed to get rid of one of them.

She parried a blow and slipped under the man's guard, slamming Delswoir's guard into the man's armoured forehead. Frelsa aimed to incapacitate if possible, not kill.

Glancing to one side she saw Shepherd parrying the blows expertly, but barely able to strike back under the hail of blows from a furious Trun and his other companion. He was untouched, but so were his opponents.

Her last opponent's blade sliced across her side, she gasped as the icy blade easily slipped under her distracted guard. Cursing herself for allowing her to be distracted, she twisted away as the sword came down, clanging against the ground. She reached forward, grabbing the man's helmet and quickly yanking it off, exposing his shaved dome of a head. He snarled and sliced lengthwise, Frelsa ducked under the blow and moved to the man's other side, swiftly slamming Delswoir's pommel into the man's head. The emerald embedded into the pommel connected with the man's skull, to which he responded with a cry of pain. She slammed the pommel against his head again, then one last time for good measure. The man crumpled to the floor, limp.

Frelsa smiled somewhat triumphantly at her work. Two soldiers down, neither one dead. She turned to Shepherd to see him standing over his own opponents, already knocked out, examining her. "About time you finished."

"How?" She asked, confused, he had been struggling against his opponents just seconds ago.

"Skill. Now where's that kid, Dog?"

She looked around. It seemed he had bailed after kicking Trun, she couldn't really blame him for it, he seemed barely seven.

Turning towards where the soldiers had come from, she said, "No matter, we just head for the courtyard and wait for Drukjl and our dragons. They said it was a warzone right? Well, anything that hates this place can't be that bad."

"Fine, then, I still don't like being away from Errol for so long."

She turned back to Shepherd, saying, "Don't worry, he's probably safe, as long as he's got Kalla and Dýrgrir to keep him-"

A figure was behind Shepherd, one of the soldier's, sword raised, the tip hovering just over her fellow Rider's neck.

The next few moments were mostly a blur, the soldier yelled in triumph as he thrust his sword forward, Frelsa grabbed her friend's shoulder and yanked him aside, raising Delswoir and bringing it down across the man's chest in one fluid motion.

The man looked at the wound in his chest, starting from the base of his neck and going straight down. Through his rent armour his uniform was slowly turning red. His mouth opened slowly, but no sound came out. He clutched his chest and fell backwards.

Frelsa retreated slowly as the man lay on the ground, convulsing like a fish out of water and making horrible, horrible noises like a dying animal. Shepherd grabbed her arm, pulling slightly, but she did not even look at him. She was fixated on the man she had sliced open, the man dying on the ground.

"Don't look, Frelsa, let's go."

Delswoir was no longer light as a feather, it felt cold and heavy. The man was making disgusting gurgling noises. His blood is probably flooding his throat, informed one part of her brain. Choking on his own blood, blood that you made run.

Shepherd yanked her again and she returned to reality. She looked at him with hollow eyes. "What did I do?"

"You saved my life, don't think of anything else, just go."

"I-I killed him. He has friends, what do you think they'll think when they find a dead brother lying with them."

"Don't think about that, just come."

He pulled her back and turned her around, and they came face to face with three Sentinels.

Shepherd pulled a long face, "Oh come on! Seriously!"

Their staves began to glow with that crimson light, the three of them seeming to loom that much taller, filling up the entirety of the passage. Shepherd placed his hand on her head and tried to force it down, to turn her away from them, but it was too late.

She did not even resist as her eyes zoomed in on the shadows within the closest Sentinel's hood. He held his staff over her head, those seven beautiful wings twirling serenely. What a lovely red glow. Like roses.

She was faintly aware of Shepherd stabbing his blade through a Sentinel, the being crumpling into a pile of robes, before he fell under the spell of the other one.

Her Sentinel reached forward and rested a soft, gloved hand on her forehead.

Drukjl raised his axe high overhead and swept it down, carving through the last of the thick iron bars. Kalla cast him a grateful glance before agilely hopping down.

He had spent the better part of the last twenty minutes of human time carving through the bars and chains with Zhâda. They had strong magic bonding them, quite hypocritical compared to the rest of this city's hate for it.

Drukjl placed one hand on Dýrgrir's snout, staring deep into his amber eyes. It felt wrong to be so near to him yet not feel the weight of his thoughts. The dragon gave a rumble. Was it of reaffirmation? Of comfort? To his Rider, it didn't matter. He brushed some of the waste that the humans had pelted the dragons with. How they could have hate for such great creatures was unknown to him. He hoped humans in other cities were not as such.

"Come," he said at length, heading for the door. "We must find Shepherd and Kalla."

He had barely stepped under the doorway when there was a crashing sound behind him. The Urgal turned back and saw Errol immobile, having fallen onto his cage. And standing over his grey body was a tall blue and white robed figure with a golden staff. How had it gotten inside? There was only one door and none of the windows were broken.

Dýrgrir roared and leaped forward, the Sentinel looked up at the brown dragon and it seemed to halt in mid air before crashing to the ground, stopping at the being's foot.

Kalla slinked close to the ground, snarling, before she stiffened and fell limp. From behind her walked out another Sentinel.

Drukjl stared in shock. Three dragons had just been immobilised at a touch. The Sentinels had definitely not been there before, they seemed to have just materialised from air.

He roared and charged the closet one, the one standing over Dýrgrir. He vowed to make this thing feel pain for what it had done to his dragon.

Knowing from experience that a few blows of his axe could defeat it, he raised Zhâda high and brought it down, straight for the Sentinel's head, if this creature had one.

He kept his gaze down to not connect eyes with it, just as Lod had instructed. His axe stopped in its deadly arc. Drukjl quickly glanced up and saw a white, gloved hand around it. The Sentinel had caught the axe by the handle. He kept his gaze down and tried to yank out his axe.

A terrible cold pervaded his hand, he struggled to keep his hold on his axe but the cold was strong, it spread from his hand and throughout his body, snuffing out his fire within. Drukjl held on as long he could, before he felt as if his hand would freeze and fall off, before roaring in pain and falling back, gasping.

He lay on his back, the fire within him slowly rekindling, before a hood entered his view, the Sentinel standing over him.

Waking up and not feeling anything in your legs sucks. A lot.

Frelsa opened her eyes to see a domed ceiling far ahead. She sat up and realised that her arms were chained behind her. Shepherd was kneeling next to her and Drukjl lay on the other side. Both were similarly chained.

She strained to crane her head around and saw that they were in a brightly lit room, very large, large enough for a dragon to circle within. Most of it was built of pale stone and bronze, no sign of trash or wear and tear. They were at the far side of the circular room, behind them was a dark hole in the ground more than fifty metres wide, a soft blue glow coming from within it. There was a hallway leading away on the other side.

Frelsa gave a gasp when she saw their dragons in a cage, suspended directly above their heads by a collection of chains. Judging by how there was no thrashing and crashing of metal they were subdued as well.

She writhed and struggled in her chains, straining until she felt the warm smoothness of blood creeping down her wrists.

"Please don't try."

She looked up in shock, looking around for the source of the voice.

"Right in front of you, human."

She looked in front of her and realised that the three of them were chained at the foot of a flight of wide steps, at the top was a huge throne of bronze and copper. There was a huge, stained glass window behind it. A shadowy figure sat atop the throne, none of his features were visible.

"Three Rider's pervade my kingdom, cause terror in the streets and send my prisoners amok."

The voice was so familiar, then Frelsa realised with a shock that it was almost identical to the one she had heard under the volcano from the grey tempest. She pointed a quavering finger, "You… you're…"

Two pinpoints of fluorescent blue appeared where the shadow's eyes should be. They stared out at her in contempt.

"Have we… met, human? No, it can't be, I would have destroyed an insignificant bug like you long ago if we had."

His tone was calm and relaxed, as if crushing insignificant bugs like her was an everyday chore.

The shadow rose to its feet. At its full height it must have been nine feet tall. She desperately tried to back up but her legs were still as ever. This thing could have been identical to the tempest under the island if not for the blue eyes.

"You have much magic in you, good, very nice."

She tried to pull out Delswoir but her hands could barely move an inch from where they were chained behind her. Closing her eyes, Frelsa prepared for the end.

A hand softly fell upon her arm. It felt deceptively like skin, soft and supple.

"Look up, little girl."

His voice had changed, not like the one under the volcano anymore, softer, more human like. It sounded like a completely different person. This alone was reason enough for her to look up.

A man stood where the shadow had been, a short and plump man. He had royal, purple silk robes that stretched almost painfully at his belly. He had a head of short, black hair and a ruddy complexion. But what was most striking about him were his eyes, striking and electric blue. He smiled jollily at her.

Frelsa's mouth fell open. This surely could not be the shadow upon the throne. But it seemed so, no dark shadows with fluorescent blue eyes were anywhere else in this chamber.

He sauntered over to Drukjl, the sheer volume of fat upon his legs making it seem like he was always about to tip over. He crouched down and grabbed the Urgal's face, turning it from side to side to inspect it. He grumbled, "Urgal hm? Not much magic in you, sad."

As the man wobbled over to the still sleeping Shepherd to inspect him, Frelsa managed to ask, "Wh-Who, what are you?"

He grabbed Shepherd's face, murmuring, "Good, good, very nice. I'm sorry, lesser humanoid, did you say something?"

Somehow when this thing said that as a fat man in purple robes, it somehow did not seem as threatening or awe-inspiring. She repeated.

He turned to her. "That's simple, my name's Áqirni."

The name sent a chill down her spine. "You… just now, when you were, were… that thing, you looked a lot like-"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, I hear something."

She tried to hear but there was nothing.

"You hear that?"

She did not dare to answer, but got an answer soon enough.

"Lord Neoettr!"

A soldier stumbled through the hallway on the other side of the pit in the middle of the throne room. His armour was crisscrossed with blade marks and he bled from a slash on his arm and his plumed helmet was askew. Dragged along behind the soldier was a man in bloodied rags.

"We got one of them, Lord! One of the escapees!"

It must be one of the magic users Drukjl said he had freed.

Áqirni waved dismissively at him. "Just leave him here and be on your way. There's a slaughter down at the courtyard, go and bring a few more magicians up."

The soldier saluted and turned tail, running down the hallway, boots tramping against the hard stone.

The fat man strode forth and straight towards the pit. He stood on the edge for a moment and Frelsa hoped he would walk straight off and into whatever lay below, and he did. She almost smiled as he stepped forth into emptiness, then gasped as a stone panel shot up from below and supported his foot. He took another step and another panel shot up to support him. It continued in such a manner, the panels rising up to form a pathway for him as he walked over the void. The magician who had been brought in was in awe, frozen in shock.

Áqirni stopped above the centre of the pit, bellowing with a stentaurian roar, "Sentinels!"

Two Sentinels on either side of the magician reached down and grabbed his arms, yanking him up. How had she not noticed them before? They pulled the screaming man towards the pit, and as they took the first step stone plates rose up to provide them a walkway just as for the fat man. They led him over the pit until their path joined the one of Áqirni, forming an impossible bridge. The magician struggled wildly in the iron grip of the Sentinels, begging for mercy.

The fat man reached forth and cupped the sobbing magician's face in his pudgy hands, murmuring soothing words. The man's sobs gradually abated, before his eyes popped in fear. He opened his mouth to scream again as Áqirni savagely grabbed either side of his forehead, almost as if he wanted to crush the magician's skull between his palms.

What happened was a thing Frelsa would try desperately to forget in future times. The man screamed so loud she felt as if her ears would fail, his eyes glowed as blue as those of the shadow on the throne, a light of similar colour shone from his mouth that hung too wide. He thrashed and struggled and the Sentinels pulled his arms taut, stretching him apart. His eyes and mouth glowed so bright it seemed as if the Sun had turned blue and chosen the man's skull as its new perch, its radiance shining forth from whatever opening it could find. Áqirni's grip grew more savage, hands turning claw-like. The man's scream ended abruptly, finishing with a sound like a glass rod shattering. The glow dulled, the light seeming to condense to liquid, flowing down his skin and down. The electric blue substance condensed at the magician's feet, then flowed over the sides of the stone bridge and into the pit. The Sentinels held him there until all the blue substance had emptied from him and flowed into the pit.

The fat man let go of his victim and cupped his hand, scooping up some of the blue liquid, then let it flow down into his mouth. The Sentinels heaved up the now lifeless body and brought him away.

When he returned, the man who was once a shadow seemed to stand straighter, less fat and stouter. His smile was now tinged with insanity. The fear that was once gone returned with a vengeance to Frelsa.

The man squatted down and inspected a still sleeping Shepherd, sighing, "Females always wake up first, unfortunately. You can't really enjoy bleeding one dry of magic if they aren't screaming like children. Well, time's a wasting."

He tapped Shepherd on the forehead and his eyes shot open. He stared around wildly and tried scrambling to his feet, which would have worked had he not been chained. How could he use his feet?

Áqirni pointed at her legs and sensation in them returned. It was evident by now that whatever power prevented them from using magic did not extend to him. Drukjl was also woken up, but he did not do so for their dragons. Shepherd asked, "Fat man! How about our dragons then?"

His eyes flared for a moment, before softening slightly. "They'll wake in time, quicker than you two would have. And my name is not 'Fat Man'. Name's Áqirni. During my rule as Lord, I've earned the moniker Neoettr, and for some reason everyone believes that to be my name."

Drukjl narrowed his eyes, "What are you, demon?"

"Demon! Hah! That's a good one, calling me demon would be like calling you a common goat, Urgal!" He continued bellowing with hearty laughter, so infectious that she saw Shepherd smile slightly. She did not. She had seen what he had done.

He wiped a tear from the side of his eye as he sat upon his bronze throne and reclined luxuriously. "What I am, is a great deal. I'm Lord of Feinster, obviously-"

"You know what we mean, Fat Man," Shepherd said. Drukjl hissed, "Bad idea, Shepherd, this one is powerful."

His electric blue eyes seemed to become starker, harsher. "Well, humans, I am one of the last of a dying race. We go by many names, our most common, being the Grey Ones."

The name sent chills and shivers racing around her body, those two words had a very power of their own, silencing all and resonating within them. She had heard the words before, but they were still distant to her, like she had heard a whisper of it within a dream.

"Not familiar with the word? Blast, I'd hoped your people would remember the race that had shaped your world and laid low the four proud races that came here before you."

This man was undoubtedly crazy. Great, a crazy fat man who fed on magic. A dragon roared above them, one she recognised as Kalla. She wanted to cry for joy but she dared not to. She could not even talk to her with her mind. Soon Kalla was joined by the growls and roars of the other two dragons. She figured with a cage that size, they were squeezed in there pretty tight, probably no space for them to even move.

"Now, since we're all awake, I'm sure you six have quite a few questions for me. I could kill you all, of course, but since you're Riders I'll grant you that much of a privelage."

A roar from one of the dragons, by the sound of it Dýrgrir, to which the fat man responded, "Oh do shut up, dragon, in my day you would've been lying on the floor by now, an edge through your scales and a pool of blood around you. You're all alive still by my word."

This shut them all up.

"Now then, I shall continue uninterrupted, indeed? Well, the first question you ask might be: Who am I? I'm both Lord Neoettr and Áqirni. Or maybe, more of Áqirni. The last Lord was originally a bright young lad with the best intentions for his people in mind. Then I came along, and realised that his 'no magic' policy suited my needs quite well."

"Drukjl," she whispered. He glanced back, to which she responded by looking down at Delswoir's hilt. It was impossible for her to reach it but perhaps he could.

"I uh, disposed of that young boy, quite a hard mind to break he was, then took control, closing the gates for a few years for security reasons, sending my Sentinels into the city to weed out any remaining magic and "inform" the peoples of my truth and such. I also put in a few precautions to stop any new magic using citizens from using their abilities to my detriment, as you may or may not have noticed. Such as a field that negates the use of it. The magic ones would be brought here and their collective essence poured into that pool behind you."

He pointed at the pit behind them.

Frelsa was uncomfortable under this fat man's gaze, having seen him sap that poor magician's magic and seen him as the towering dark shadow. He was too comfortable sharing this information with them, so she hoped that he did so out of sheer stupidity, but she knew it was not so.

"As you may have suspected, you will be subjected to that fun treatment soon, so don't fret."

She felt a lot like fretting.

"Now that we've got past that, who would like to go first? It's quite painless really, side effects may or may not include the complete absence of magic from henceforth, severe nausea, projectile diarrhoea and I think that's about it. No wait, there's also a very high chance of death, maybe a hundred percent or so."

He looked at them with a grin. "Any questions?"

Shepherd started to, of all things, laugh. The fat man's grin grew wider. "Hilarious, human, isn't it? You're going to die very, very painfully! This one gets it, I like you!"

"No, it's not like that," Shepherd stammered between choking laughs. "I mean, it's just that, it's slightly hard to take a threat seriously when you look like-" he jerked his head at the fat man, "-that."

The man's cheerful disposition fell apart, his face contorted with rage. "Would you prefer a more menacing visage, such as this?"

He swiped one pudgy hand over his body, and like he was withdrawing a curtain, his fat form changed to that of a nine foot tall shadow with piercing eyes of electric blue. He got up from his throne and sauntered towards them. Shepherd, Frelsa was glad to say, had fallen silent. She felt a slight tug on Delswoir's scabbard and knew that Drukjl was succeeding. It was amazing he had done anything without Áqirni seeing.

"Now who wants to go first?"

She felt Delswoir slid out of its scabbard slightly and hurriedly jerked it out a bit more, just enough for her to reach over and start sawing through her chains. She moved sluggishly to avoid detection.

But Áqirni walked straight past them, onto the edge of the pit. The bridge from before had collapsed. He knelt down next to the pit and reached in, when he withdrew his hand it was dripping with the blue substance she had seen leak out of the magician. The shadow held its hand over its head and it dripped into his mouth. "Delicious, if only you could taste this nectar of the gods."

There was a soft clink as her chains snapped on her green blade. She hurriedly got up, careful to make little noise as possible, and drew Delswoir, sawing through Drukjl's bonds. Áqirni dipped both hands into the pit this time, lapping up the magic liquid he withdrew hungrily.

She had scarce sliced through the Urgal's chains when the shadow said, "I know what you're doing, human. This is my throne room, I see all within it."

Frelsa hurriedly brought down Delswoir in an overhand strike on Shepherd's chains, not caring for stealth anymore. He yelped slightly as the blade sheared through the metal, before scurrying to his feet and drawing his own grey sword.

"I will enjoy your essence, those brave enough to resist are always that much sweeter to devour."

"Not a chance, Fat Man," Shepherd mocked as he readied his blade.

Áqirni obviously did not like this name, he turned towards them, wiping off a few drops of blue liquid from his shadowy chin. He pointed one dark finger at Shepherd. "Prepare to die, human."

Drukjl raised his axe and roared, charging the monster. Shepherd followed suit. Frelsa however, help back, wondering if she could free their dragons from their cage, but it was too high up. And those chain links were a great deal thicker than theirs' had been.

The shadow was surprisingly agile for one who appeared as a fat man, he casually sidestepped all blows, none seemed to come close to him. Frelsa crept off to the side, flanking the shadow and praying fervently for Shepherd and Drukjl to keep him occupied and distracted. They were definitely doing a good job distracting him, if it was by amusing him with their efforts.

Áqirni stepped aside as Drukjl's axe came down. "Looking at you two, it's easy to see why you lost the last war against us."

This thing was definitely mad.

She was nearly behind him, but then Shepherd got smacked away. Drukjl bellowed and tried to strike but the shadow sighed theatrically and waved his hand at him. The Urgal flew back and struck the throne so hard that even she winced.

"Now, human, you do know it's not nice to sneak up on people, yes?"

Frelsa charged forward, abandoning all secrecy. She heard Kalla roar with her. The shadow turned around to face her, but she struck faster, Delswoir sliding easily across the back of its knees.

This thing, for all its similarities to the tempest under the mountain, did not have the dissipating power of it. The blade struck its mark solidly. Áqirni roared in pain and buckled, falling to one knee. He groaned, "Disgusting… sub-sentient apes, I'd forgotten how much an annoyance your ilk was during the war."

"Well prepare for a lesson." Shepherd stabbed his sword at the shadow's face. The electric blue eyes faltered for a while as he gave another bellow of pain.

"Sentinels!"

Frelsa's heart sank. She had been entertaining thoughts of victory for a moment, but the Sentinels would make it all but impossible.

Drukjl swung his axe and it embedded itself firmly in the shadow's shoulder. The shadow seemed to fade away for a moment and Frelsa saw something underneath, something, almost like a man but with skin grey as Errol's scales. The shadow faltered for such a short moment that it returned almost immediately. He roared and swiped Drukjl away.

The first Sentinel appeared behind him. Áqirni rose to his feet and behind him, standing on the edge of the pit, was one of the menacing robed men. Frelsa looked away and saw another one behind her, already reaching out for her. She panicked and closed her eyes, blindly slashing, and when she opened them saw a pile of shredded robes at her feet.

Áqirni's blue eyes turned into gaping circles of shock. "Your blades, they're made of stáljerrn?"

The word sounded like the Ancient Language but not any word that she knew.

"Sentinels!"

Áqirni's shock, and was it fear? heartened her. She realised that brightsteel must have some detrimental effect on the Sentinels. She turned to tell Shepherd of this when she saw a Sentinel standing in front of him. It raised one hand to lay it on the Rider's forehead, before a sword sliced through its waist.

The robes were swept to one side. Shepherd shook himself awake and seemed unable to focus on her, saying, "You…"

"Saved your ass again. Remember, don't look them in the eyes. Brightsteel can kill them."

He nodded slowly, but his eyes wandered all over. Frelsa frowned as he staredly hollowly at her, before slapping him as hard as she could.

"Ah! What the hell was that for?" The hollowness left him and he became instead, very annoyed.

"Nothing, now come on!"

Drukjl was somehow managing to survive in one-on-one combat with the shadow. He dodged and lept around like a mountain goat on a steep path. His strength was all for naught, blocking was obviously not an option with this opponent.

Shepherd stepped in and struck and the shadow stumbled back, revealing yet another Sentinel where he had been. The robed figures were everywhere, but Drukjl easily swept his axe through them, the robes crumpling at his feet.

The shadow raised a hand to strike Drukjl but his wrist was stabbed by Shepherd, he tried to take avenge the injury, reaching down towards Shepherd, but was rewarded by a slash across its waist by Delswoir for its trouble.

Áqirni was losing and he knew it. He tried to slip out, to retreat, but couldn't. Drukjl slowly said, "Being of whatever sort, we want only to leave, to have safe passage with our dragons to Teirm, and we shall trouble you no longer."

The being's eyes narrowed. "Admit defeat to you sub-sentients? He'd kill me for that!"

"Who?" Frelsa asked.

"You know, don't you?" he asked fearfully. "You were the ones there, there when he woke! When he got out! You have to understand, if I show any mercy to you, he will kill me when he finds me."

The shadow looked around in fear, almost like paranoia.

"I can't, I can't!"

And with that the shadow fell willingly into the pit.

Frelsa looked in after him and immediately turned away from the blue light that flared from it. A deep rumble sounded and she felt a void that was gone in her return. She felt magic in her veins again.

Frelsa!

Kalla! She exclaimed back as the rush of emotions from her dragon flooded her. Just to hear that one word from her, just to hear her dragon's voice after that damned silence, that was heaven to her.

Another, stronger rumble and cracks began to appear in the floor. Shepherd shouted, "We've got to bail!"

Frelsa looked up and reached into herself and felt her beloved magic kite, pointing at the chains and saying, "Jierda!"

It worked, a lot better than she had hoped. The huge cage came falling down, and nearly flattened all of them.

"Gods, girl, give a warning next time you do that," Shepherd complained.

The cage was barely wide enough for the dragons to fit in. They struggled to bite through the cage bars, adorned with countless tooth marks. Frelsa concentrated and spoke again, "Jierda!"

The bars did not break. They likely had some kind of complicated magic enchantment. She wondered why Áqirni hadn't used magic against her?

A chunk of ceiling came raining down. She decided to contemplate it later. The enchantment was obviously too strong to break at a moment's notice. How were they going to go out?

"Frelsa?" Drukjl asked.

"We can't break the bars here, but we have to get out," she said.

"Then we push it out?"

"How? We can't go through the keep."

"Hey guys," Shepherd called. He was standing behind the throne, looking out a shattered section of the giant stained glass window behind it.

Frelsa went over and looked through. There, far below but directly under the window were the chopping waves of the sea. This side of the keep must be by the sea. She smiled, "Then we've got a plan."

Drukjl and Shepherd hacked apart the remaining panes of the window, Frelsa turned to the dragons.

The three of you need to lean on one side of the cage. The, no not there, over here, yes, facing the window.

Frelsa, what is this for?

Out of my face, Dýrgrir!

Move then, you grey lizard!

She sighed. We can't get you guys out of your cage now, so we're going to go out the window.

I assume there's something soft at the bottom? Errol asked.

The sea.

But what if-

Shut up, Dýrgrir! Kalla commanded as a chunk of bronze and stone shattered against their cage. Get up against the side of that cage and push!

Frelsa tried to help, but it was mostly the dragons that did the work. Their combined weight on one side of the cage was enough to roll it forward like a wheel, even up the throne steps. It was all she could do to keep up.

Drukjl and Shepherd grabbed on to either side of the cage just as it teetered on the edge of the window. The sounds of the sea lapping against the wall came from far below.

Then they fell through and into the sea air.

She screamed, either from fear or exhilaration, she didn't know, but the wind tore away her voice. Their dragons' jaws hung open in silent roars, Drukjl and Shepherd were visible on either side, clinging onto the cage for dear life.

Frelsa learnt that day that people don't really realise that jumping through a window several hundred metres above the ocean is a bad idea until you're halfway down. Thoughts began to race, what if there were rocks beneath the surface, what if the water was too shallow, what if they hit the wall on the way down. What if.

The water came up surprisingly fast, Frelsa tried to angle her body, remembering someone telling her that hitting the water at great speed spread-eagled would be like hitting flat earth at the same momentum.

The water was like a cold shock, her entire body was enveloped in cold, clear water. The cage snagged on something and she was yanked back up and out of the water. The cage was supported by something, a quick dive revealed a spire jutting out from the sea bed, and half filled with water. The dragons inside were still squirming for space, Shepherd and Drukjl were still hanging on. At least they were alive, more than she had hoped for.

An explosion came from above. She looked up and saw a plume of sapphire fire billowing out of the window hundreds of metre above. A hail of tiny objects flew out with the fire.

Shepherd nodded at a point next to her, "What's that?"

Frelsa turned and saw something floating next to her, a brown object. She grasped it and realised it was made of worn leather, connected by a frayed string to her belt. She found a knot tied around the mouth of the leather pouch and untied it, revealing its golden contents.

As Frelsa gingerly felt the fat, golden coins in the pouch, she looked back at the city of Feinster.

"Thanks, Dog."

28-12-13

So, chapter 10. Made it to ten chapters, and amazingly, 80'000 words. That's a ton longer than a lot of other stories I start, usually ending after one or two chapters. I am a bit concerned that the last few chapters have not received any reviews at all, so I'm afraid that I'm going the wrong way here. Someone throw me a bone here, I'm freaking out.