ASH LAKE

"Left. Lefter. Lefter!"

After reaching what was definitely not a wasteland overrun with demons, the Dark Sun and his attendants had been greeted by the Daughters of Chaos in an elaborate throne room. For once, Quelara was appropriately dignified as she officially accepted them as refugees. Ultimately, she agreed to give Gwyndolin a tour of the facilities, accompanied by Ornstein for safety. Gough went with Quelana and the giant blacksmith to help him set up his forge. With Quelaav returning to her bonfire, this left Artorias, Ciaran, and Sif with Quelaag.

She and Artorias bickered for a while over whether his defeat at the hands of Manus counted as losing their wager, but when the Chosen Undead arrived, she too retired. Once Ornstein and Gough returned they set out again immediately. Descending the hollow of the archtree had been a simple matter – the agile demigods and wolf leapt from limb to limb and the giant simply climbed down, his body large enough to span what would be fatal falls for smaller creatures. The basilisks along the way were easy prey, and though the mushroom folk were of a different brood than those of the Forest, they recognized warning signs Artorias had learned to keep them away. The lower world was much as they remembered it, gray and unchanging.

The ferocious black hydra had been a surprise. Still, as unsubtle as its approach was, it was easy prey. Gough had already blasted off two of its heads before even nimble Ornstein had reached it, his pace slowed by the shifting ash of the beach. By the time Artorias, Sif, and Ciaran had caught up, it was on its last legs. They slew it and continued on their way, crushing the occasional maneater shells like nuts.

As they approached the end of the sandbar, they had slowed to a stop to take in their surroundings. Ahead was one of the largest archtrees they'd seen, growing from the shattered stump of another. The path led through the hollow stone-wood. Seeing through to the other side was impossible, so it would be difficult to plan a surprise attack. Artorias had suggested simply charging in, but Ornstein insisted the blind Gough do what reconnaissance he could.

Now perched atop the shattered stump of the archtree, he listened carefully to the ancient dragon in the hollow below. It was difficult to get a good read. Unlike Kalameet before, this dragon retained its stone scales and so was neither alive nor dead. It did not breathe, though fortunately, it moved about slightly in its nest. Fortunately, Hawkeye Gough had acquired a spotter since last time.

"Fire at will, Uncle Gough!"

Though the giant crouched atop the ruined archtree, it was the little girl seated atop the giant's head that had the highest perspective. She was dressed all in blue and had keen blue eyes that had no trouble peering down into the dimly-lit hollow. Her long platinum blond hair was tied in a braid that hung over one shoulder, and a pair of wooden swords hung on her back.

"Patience, little one," Gough chided gently. "Study thy foe carefully. Dost thou see any weakness or strength, which may be used against it or against us?"

"It hath an itty-bitty head! One of its horns art broken. And it's fuzzy! So fuzzy!"

"Perhaps we should have insisted the witches accompany us. It might have proven vulnerable to fire, once stripped of its scales. Ah, such is hindsight. No matter – givest the signal, then strappest thyself in."

"Right away, Uncle Gough!"

The girl climbed down the back of his helmet and drew a large, yellow-topped firebomb from one of his belt pouches. She lifted the explosive, large as her head, with both hands and threw it with all her might before scampering back up and buckling herself into a harness that dangled around the giant's neck. As the firebomb reached the top of its arc, it burst into an overbearing display of noise and light, and four tiny figures below rushed into the stump. The stone dragon turned its head slowly, deliberately, toward the noise – unable to see the flash of light inside. A moment later, and there was a second flash.

Ornstein kicked away from the dragon, spraying dust and gravel in all directions as he withdrew his sparking spear from its chest. It rose, a hulking thing of at least twice the bulk of lean Kalameet. Slow but sturdy, it seemed unfazed by even such a vital blow as it rolled its head back and unleashed a torrent of white vapor that was neither flame nor soul magic. The Lion quickly leapt out of the way as the Wolf and his wolf stepped in and caught the dragon's attention. It followed Artorias across the small island and up the wall, but the unliving thing's movements were simply too dull to catch him.

"Why dost thou not shoot, Uncle Gough?" the girl asked, kicking her dangling legs out of boredom.

"Rememberest thy mother's lessons on the ancient dragons?" the giant began, a little tense from the sounds of combat below. "Lord Gwyn's lightning is needed to peel their invincible stone scales. Long ago, we all had a fraction of that power, but these days, only Captain Ornstein doth retain it."

"So everyone else has to wait for Uncle Ornstein to do his buzz-buzz-pchoo thing?"

Beneath his helmet, the giant smirked.

"Yes, but I doubt 'Uncle Ornstein' wouldeth appreciate thee calling it that."

Below, Ornstein was indeed charging a mighty bolt along his spear as Artorias distracted the dragon by hacking at its left arm. It swatted at the demigod and tried to grab him with its other arm, but he hopped on top of it and charged into the beast's neck. It turned its head slowly, inhaling deeply. As the Wolf leapt away, it stopped suddenly, giving Sif the opportunity to climb the other side and hack at the back of its head. It shifted its weight and raised one claw to ward against the great grey wolf's attacks.

"HOLDEST," it thought calmly, its mind-voice heavy as stone. "DOTH MINE EYES DECEIVE?"

The Knights tensed, though Sif and the girl, being younger, didn't know why. In their stone forms, dragons were not alive and were incapable of such things as speech or thought. Only being stripped of their scales and exposed to Flame gave them identity and true consciousness. Ornstein's first attack may have exposed it slightly, but it still retained its original form and should not have awakened so quickly.

"THOU SEEST TRUE!" Ornstein roared. "GWYN'S DRAGONSLAYER IS THY BANE!"

He unleashed the charged bolt, but the dragon was ready. It quickly drew something out of its nest and blocked the attack, though some scales on the defending arm were blown away by the runover. Between two mighty claws, it held a massive slab of stone that looked tiny by comparison.

"HOLDEST, I SAID, ORNSTEIN. HONESTLY, YOUNGSTERS THESE DAYS. ARTORIAS, WHAT FOOL THING WAST THOU DOING THAT THOU DISAPPEARED FOR CENTURIES? I CAN ALREADY IMAGINE THOU LOST THINE ARM CHARGING IN BLINDLY."

"What madness is this?" Ornstein growled.

"FOR WHAT PURPOSE DID ANOR LONDO CHOOSETH TO SHEPHERD THE HUMANS? SENDING AN UNDEAD SPY WOULD HAVE TOLDETH THEE SOMETHING WAS AMISS. CANNETH A DRAGON SERVE AS FIRE KEEPER? SITTEST, AND SEEST MY FLAME IS KINDLED. THIS UTTER LACK OF INTELLIGENCE IS HOW THAT UNGRATEFUL, WRETCHED DRAGON RANNETH RAMPANT, DOING WHATSOEVER PLEASED HIM. HE AND THAT DAMNABLE BIRD."

"Holdest on…" Artorias murmured. "Captain! I know that voice! It's the god of cranky old men!"

The dragon suddenly attacked again. Artorias flipped over the swing, and Ornstein started to loose his bolt.

"Stoppest! Ornstein, dost thou not recognize him?"

"I recognize a dragon."

"Gettest the dragonslayer spear out of thine ass. How farest thee, Havel?"

The stone dragon crossed its arms.

"I WOULD BE BETTER WERE I NOT CONSIGNED TO THIS WICKED FORM. I DID NOT RECOGNIZE YOU EITHER, A RIGHT-HANDED ARTORIAS AND A BLACKENED ORNSTEIN. MUCH HATH OCCURRED SINCE WE LAST SPAKE, IT SEEMETH."

"I'll say!" Artorias said, confused. "Weren't Fire Keepers necessarily female?"

"THE CAPACITY FOR REPRODUCTION IS WHAT WAS REQUIREDETH, TO PROVIDETH VESSELS FOR THE HUMANITY THAT THE KEEPER IS NOT OVERWHELMED. THIS STONE BODY, WRETCHED THOUGH IT MAY BE, IS PROOF AGAINST THE DARK."

"That would hath been convenient," Artorias sighed. "Mine arm was lost to the Beast of the Abyss when I journeyed to Oolacile. My mind, too, would have been lost had it not been for Quelaag."

"DIDETH NOT THE WITCH-DAUGHTERS PERISH OR BECOMETH DEMON?"

This time Ornstein spoke, "They dideth. A further detail was kepteth secret among the Knights, the Lord, and the fallen one. Those Daughters who survived did retaineth their minds, but it was safer for all that none kneweth. I beg thine forgiveness, Bishop Havel."

"SAVE THY WORDS, KNIGHT-CAPTAIN. THINE ARMOR AND PRESENCE HERE TELLETH ME MUCH OF THY SITUATION. I MUST PRESUME THE LORD'S KEEP HATH FALLEN."

"It ist as thou sayst. The Raven-Haired Witch hath risen in open rebellion at last. We dared not risketh the Princess' life against an army of Undead phantoms and sought refuge where her crows might not followeth. There, we heard tell of an ancient dragon that yet lived. Even with need for discretion, a dragon was too dangerous to letteth live."

"YET I SUSPECT THAT SO-CALLED 'DUKE' WATCHETH OVER OUR FALLEN CITY WITH GLEE, SAFE IN ITS 'HOUSE ARREST,' IF THE RAVEN HATH NOT ALREADY GATHERED THE STRENGTH TO FREE IT."

"We are fortunate. Those two felleth out some time after thy framing and 'imprisonment.'"

"THAT IS EXCELLENT TO HEARETH. FOR THAT MATTER, HOW FARETH MY DOUBLE?"

"I have not had the opportunity to check. I shall ask the Prophet when the opportunity presents itself. The most recent Undead chosen to fulfilleth that Prophecy possesseth a true gift of foresight, and he hath undone much of the Raven's machinations."

"LET US WAIT NOT!" the Havel-dragon cackled with a laugh like grinding stone. "THE RAVEN CANNOT HARMETH THIS FOUL BODY OF MINE! LET US LAY HER HEAD UPON HERN OWN BLOCK!"

The four enormous wings on its back began to flutter, creating a whirlwind of ash. Sif sneezed.

"Holdest!" Ornstein said quickly, waving his spear to attract attention. "The traitor cannot harmeth thee, but her Undead from countless worlds may bringeth to bear the spears of the fallen!"

The dragon growled audibly instead of using telepathy.

"TRAITORS TO HIS COVENANT," Havel thought at last. "WE SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED NOTHING LESS. TWO CAN PLAYETH THIS GAME. I WILL GATHER MINE OWN ADHERENTS. I CAN CALL THOSE WHO SEEKETH THIS PATH WILLINGLY NOTHING LESS THAN MAD, BUT THEIR LUST FOR STRENGTH CAUSETH THEM SEEK BATTLE. THEY WILL FIGHTETH FOR US, AND THEY WILL BE THE FINEST ARMY IN THIS LAND SINCE THE PASSING OF OUR LORD AND HIS BLACKENED KNIGHTS."

"I am loath to use such power," Ornstein grumbled, "but it will be an honor to fight alongside you once more, Bishop Havel."

"Same here," Artorias said, as he helped Sif brush the ash out of her coat. "Honeybee? Gough?"

"SO THE OTHERS WERE WITH YOU AFTER ALL. HOW SHREWD, ORNSTEIN. ARTORIAS, THOU REMAINETH A TRUSTING FOOL. EVEN NOW, I COULD BE DECEIVING THEE."

"Thou couldst not. I would smell it," Artorias said in a tone that sounded equally serious and joking.

Ornstein growled quietly before shouting, "Ciaran, Gough, present thyselves!"

A shadow dropped from the ceiling, swinging on one of the dragon's horns to slow itself before hitting the ground, bouncing, and flipping upright.

"The Lord's Blade Ciaran greeteth Bishop Havel."

Gough's descent took quite a bit more time, but he was still incredibly quick considering he was scaling the inside of a dome. At last, he dropped into the lake with a tremendous splash and pulled himself on shore.

"Greatarcher Gough greets Bishop Havel," he said bowing.

The giant realized then that he had forgotten something.

"Jacquelyn says hi, Bishop Havel! You're fluffy! Can you fly? Can I ride you?"

When Ornstein said "jump," it was a Knight's duty to ask how high. That instinctual response had led Gough to forget to hide the girl in his quiver again. Ciaran's head slowly creaked toward him, and he was all too quick to point fingers back at Artorias.

"Now listen, Honeybee, I just thought-"

"Captain Ornstein," Ciaran said, her voice ice, "might I request personal leave for myself and Knight Artorias?"

"Granted," the Dragonslayer said without hesitation.

Artorias broke into a dead sprint down the sandbar, Ciaran only a step behind. Sif just covered her face with her paws in shame.

"TO ANSWER THY QUESTION, YES, I CAN FLY."