“Good morning, Leona.”

Leona awoke instantly and shielded her eyes from the intense glare of sunlight streaming from the window. Tavus sat at the foot of the bed, smiling.

Leona winced as she remembered the events of the previous night.

“What happened to you last night? I thought you’ve gone paranoid all of a sudden,” she asked him, kicking off the sheets.

Tavus laced his fingers together and looked somber, “I know I went too far,” he said. “I was skeptical.”

“Oh yes, you were,” Leona sat beside him, “I personally think it’s still unwise to have spoken like that towards Anthea and Jarael,” Leona chided. Tavus ruffled his hair.

“I know and I regret doing that,” he said, not taking his eyes off the floor. “But I think everything will be fine now. Jarael helped me understand last night.”

“He showed me the events that happened before, during, and after the Fall. Everything flashed before my eyes. It was so real, as if I was there myself. I felt all the sensations. I almost screamed,” Tavus said, he laughed a bit. “He even took me on a ride on his back! I never knew he could change form. And I had a little chat with Anthea, she put some kind of charm around me for protection. She said it was a blessing.”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Leona asked, “Did Jarael drop you from a hundred feet up in the air?” she added, smiling.

Tavus shook his head gravely, “While we were up there, Jarael noted something moving in an alarming rate from the southeast. He hovered around them near enough though we can’t be seen. I felt my heart drop when I saw them.”

Leona panicked, “Don’t tell me you saw the T’lakr.”

“According to Jarael’s calculations, about ten leagues from the camp. He’s out there already talking to Anthea. He says we’ll have to move as quickly as we can.”

Suddenly they heard a commotion coming from outside.

“What’s that all about?” Leona asked, hurrying over to the windows.

She risked a look at the happenings outside. And to her horror, she saw the T’lakr already ravaging the camp. A lone figure stood by where the fire burned the night before and facing Anthea while around them, a sea of bodies weaved in and out of the wagons. Anthea’s people were taken by surprise.

Some fey women lay in a bloody heap; men were struggling to keep the T’lakr from killing anyone else, but in vain as they themselves were overpowered and slain by the monsters.

“Where’s Jarael? I don’t see him anywhere! I thought you said they were ten leagues away!” Leona hissed at Tavus.

“I don’t know! He was there outside before I came to see you. I have to help them, Leona. Stay here,” he said. Before Leona could react he was out the wagon and bolted the door shut. Leona tried to follow, but the door wouldn’t budge. She hammered on it fiercely, and fell on the floor, shaking and flustered.

A few paces away, five T’lakr surrounded Jarael and have started to circle him menacingly. Jarael eyed them intently, evaluating their next move. Just then, he saw Tavus hack a T’lakr open from behind with a blow from his broadsword.

Alarmed at the sudden disturbance, the other monsters looked around anxiously, looking for the source of the attack. Taking advantage of their confusion, Jarael sliced the remaining four T’lakr in half with a mighty blow from his enchanted sword. Tavus met up with him, Jarael threw him a glare.

“You left her there all alone?” Jarael fumed, Tavus nodded awkwardly.

Jarael swore, and then opened his massive wings and shot to the air.

“Get back to the wagon and guard Leona with your life. Remember that she’s the one these people are after! I have to help Anthea.”

Tavus nodded weakly and ran back to the wagon, disgusted of the risk he took.

Back in the center of the camp, Anthea eyed the newcomer with a look of pure loathing.

“What have you come here for, Demvross?” she said quietly. Golden streams of power danced over her clenched fists. The stranger chuckled malevolently.

Opposite Anthea was a vermillion-haired young man clad in black. He held a wicked halberd on his right hand and his left hand crackled with red energy. And he had black wings on his back. He fixed yellow eyes on Anthea.

“You know very well what I’ve come here for, Anthea,” he said menacingly, a malicious smile played on his lips more like a sneer. “I want the goddess and I know you’re hiding her somewhere in one of your pretty little wagons. Give her to me, and my father will reward you with his protection.”

“I have no intention of siding with Ramadak, Demvross. Leave now, the goddess isn’t here,” Anthea snarled. The prince of Ramorgra’s smile faded from his face.

“Do not lie to me, Anthea. We’ve followed the stars, and Shaeryva’s scent lingers in the air. You cannot fool me, sorceress. Surrender her or I will be forced to kill you – which I will do eventually.”

With a roar he blasted a jet of red light from his palm to Anthea, which she stopped with a ray of her own power. The prince’s rage altered the elements as the wind started to blow fearsomely hard around them.

Suddenly, a white dragon lunged at the prince with open jaws. The latter was thrown backwards and the chain of magic broke. Anthea fell to the ground gasping.

The dragon engulfed the prince with white-hot flames. Demvross’ horrible screams of agony added to the frenzied commotion around him. The dragon swept away and landed with a soft thump beside Anthea.

“Anthea, were you hurt?” came Jarael’s voice from the dragon’s mouth.

Anthea staggered to regain her balance, “Jarael, hurry. Take Leona to Thu’ril. Go around the Rillions to avoid detection. I’ll handle Demvross,” she said breathlessly.

“I’m taking you with me,” Jarael said, panic straining his voice. Anthea shook her head impatiently. “It’s too risky. Take Leona and fly out of here.”

Reluctantly, Jarael took off and headed for the wagons. Just then, Demvross stood up, his fiery rage emanated from him like a mantle of death.

With that he turned into a great black dragon and lunged at Anthea.

Somebody rapped the door of the wagon. Leona crouched on the floor, Tavus held her tightly. The rapping came again.

“Tavus, what if that’s one of the T’lakr?” Leona said, digging her nails into Tavus’ arm, Tavus didn’t seem to mind.

Then the door was ripped open and the two of them screamed as they looked into the blue eyes of a white dragon.

“Anthea told me to flee for Faimeh. Demvross helped the T’lakr reach the camp faster than they can actually go,” Jarael’s voice said.

“Jarael, what happened to you?” she said falteringly, Jarael roared savagely and grabbed the back of Leona’s tunic with his fangs and flung her onto his back. Tavus swung his leg over Jarael’s back just behind his wings.

“What of Anthea?” Leona shouted as the air outside whipped her face furiously.

“She told us to go,” Jarael said shortly, fearful to show his emotions in his voice.

He took off with Tavus and Leona on his back. Leona saw the ravaged camp and saw the great black dragon lunging at Anthea.

To her horror the massive beast dug an evil talon into Anthea’s chest. Leona screamed as Jarael started to fly away.

The black dragon on the ground heard her and took off from the ground as well, red blood dripping from its talons.

Leona could only look at Anthea’s lifeless form on the ground, glassy eyes looking into nothingness. Tears started streaming from her face as she struggled from Tavus’ grasp to get off the white dragon.

“Leona, please,” Jarael said, sorrow breaking in his voice, “it’s too late now. We have to get to Faimeh as quickly as possible.”

“How could you leave Anthea behind?” she shrieked at Jarael. The dragon snorted a stream of smoke from his nostrils.

“Anthea,” he paused. “Told me to take you to Thu’ril in that city. It was her order, she told me to leave her. If I had my way, I wouldn’t leave Anthea, myself.”

“Jarael, the black dragon is closing in on us!” Tavus said, looking back as the great reptile swiftly gained altitude and threatened to catch up with them.

“Hold on tightly,” Jarael said shortly. He gave his wings a massive beat and sped forward.

Jarael maintained his speed until the black dragon, Demvross, was already out of sight. He saw the Rillions looming far ahead of them. He dropped slightly until he was skimming the ground. Then he climbed up again as the mountains rushed below him.

The sun glimmered in the morning sky magnificently, oblivious of the massacre the T’lakr and Prince Demvross left in the Chawall camp.

Jarael flew near the valleys in the mountains, exhausting all efforts to hide from the other dragon.

Suddenly, a blast of angry red fire erupted behind them, Leona shrieked.

Demvross appeared and flew from the clouds up above and came down as he hovered parallel to Jarael, a massive figure of black against the stark white color of the mountains. He sent another jet of fire that grazed Jarael’s tail.

Leona heard Jarael groan from the attack, but that did not slow him down. Turning on his side that almost threw off Tavus and Leona, he skittered into the narrow opening he saw between two mountains in the hope that Demvross will be confused.

Demvross held the chase for almost three hours.

The mountain rivers slithered in the valleys underneath them like long silver capillaries, the clouds were swirling above them and the endless mountain range flitted past them, sunlight streaming from every crevice they passed. At this altitude Tavus and Leona could hardly manage to breathe.

Tavus shifted in his position, legs raw from gripping Jarael’s bare scales. “Jarael,” he called urgently, “see that dead end over at the other side of the valley?”

“There’s a narrow passage on the left of that. Go through there in the fastest you can muster.”

Jarael took on another burst of speed; Demvross were almost level with them, thinking the dead end would hinder them.

At the last second Jarael sharply turned on his side and slid between the mountains that Tavus mentioned. They heard a resounding crash as Demvross collided with the massive rock face and heard him roar violently as an avalanche carried him to the valleys below.

Jarael righted himself and hovered in the air out of the mountains. Tavus breathed out noisily.

“That should stall him for quite a while,” Jarael said.

“Are we near Faimeh?” Leona said, wiping the dried tears from her face.

“We’ll be there tomorrow morning,” Jarael replied.

Silence then overcame them in the proceeding hours. Aside from the beating of Jarael’s leathery wings in the wind, all they heard was the rush of the howling current of air in their ears, like a mourning cry for the death of Anthea, last of the Chawall, the divine healers.