Shay’s head throbbed. She winced slightly as the harsh conditions around her assaulted her senses. As the freezing wind bit at her skin and whipped her hair about her face, she heard the voices of her captors behind her.

“Why hasn’t she fallen yet? There is enough deregocide in her system to kill a farnax.”

“She hasn’t moved, my lord. She may be disoriented, but there is no way the poison will kill her if she sits still, even for a long while.”

“She must die, you fools! She must die, but we must not kill her. She has to fall!”

“My lord, have patience. The ledge is very thin. If she makes the slightest move forward, she will fall, just as you wish.”

“I cannot wait, you idiots! The time is now! The Savath Por approaches. She must die!”

Shay slipped out of consciousness. When she revived, there was another voice speaking.

“M-m-my L-lord,” the voice whimpered. “M-my Lord, anything but this – “

“Silence! You will push her, Roganoff, or I will push you. Either way, you will die.” The man’s voice was silky with contempt.

“And you are a filthy worm. You will die, as soon as you have fulfilled your duties to me. Here and now, I order you to push her! NOW!”

The sound of sobs drew nearer. Shay felt rough hands grip her arms gently and the voice sob “Forgive me” roughly in her ear, and then she was pushed into nothingness. She felt herself falling, the wind whistling as it rushed past her. Shay could not think. She could not scream. She could not even feel afraid. As she fell limply through the air, she heard the roar of a great beast somewhere in the distance, and she was gone.

Javar saw the limp body drop. Immediately he sprung into action. “Forward Sparla.” The dragon swooped into a deep dive, pulling out just in time for the rider to catch the falling Siren. On his unspoken command, Sparla rose to the ledge where the three men stood desperately trying to remember the spell to take them away from danger. Just as Sparla released a jet of flames, the elaborately robed men disappeared, and a squat man jumped over the edge. Sparla swooped down and caught him with her tail, then turned and flew into the distance.

They landed in a clearing surrounded by mountains. Javar could feel the Siren weakening. Dismounting, he whispered “She’s poisoned, Sparla”. The dragon gazed at the Siren forlornly. Javar busied himself with preparing a place for her to rest, all the while checking off a list of various poisons and the antidotes he had in store. When he had constructed a makeshift cot and gathered the various ingredients for an antidote he hoped he wouldn’t need, he returned to the dragon’s side and took the feverish Siren in his arms. The poison radiated wickedly from beneath the Siren’s skin. All of Javar’s doubt was washed aside; it was clearly Deregocide.

He swore beneath his breath. What manner of evil would do such a thing? Sirens were the royalty of nature. Surely this had to be a mistake, a bad, bad mistake.

While he steeled himself to administer the antidote, his mind wandered to the still sobbing man hovering within the curve of Sparla's tail. He hadn't tried to run, and a part of him was curious as to why. Pounding a small amount of Beetle's fang, he glanced over at the man.

He was short and stubby, with an air of roughness around him. He was badly bruised and scarred, and Javar assumed he had been contracted under some form of servitude.

Looking away form the man, he continued to prepare the antidote, all the while letting his mind wander.

There was a reason the Seven Wind Spirits had led him away from his regular course of patrol. Javar had not doubted it, though many of the other Venzez chose to believe the Wind Spirits was a mother' tale to send little children off to bed. He had seen the little girl with pink hair sitting on Sparla's neck, had followed her without a thought when she up and flew away. He had felt the overwhelming urge to do as it bid him. The Seven Wind Spirits would not have led him to save this Siren if they didn't think he could save her. He stared at the still form next to him. Her pale skin was tinged a very dark purple, it completely discolored her lips and her eyes. Again, he felt that something wasn't right with this. Who would want to kill a Siren?

He scoffed to himself. Enough men have tried, man. What makes you think that times have changed?   

He had seen the man push her, but he was sobbing all the while. Sighing, Javar pushed these thoughts away. The antidote was ready.

He carefully moved a hand under her head, tilting it upwards ever so slightly. Cautiously, he tipped the bowl of antidote to her lips, willing her to take at least a small swallow.

Sparla shifted nervously in the clearing. 'Something is coming Javar', she said to him using her mind. 

He ignored her, too much absorbed in the Siren he was tending to. A wave of relief washed over him as he watched the woman sip feebly. The little effort seemed to cost her greatly. As she relaxed slightly, her skin glowed ominously.

 'Javar' Sparla's voice was urgent in his mind. 'What!' he hissed back.

 After sparing his dragon a tempered glare, Javar reached out to the area, feeling the familiar sensation of leaving his body behind. He quickly climbed high above the clearing, looking down to get a bird's eye view.

There was something there alright. A troop of about ten men, all heavily armed, had surrounded the clearing. Something did not seem right. These were the king's men. Surely they could see the Venzez emblem from where they all stood. Even if they couldn't, surely they knew that the presence of a dragon also meant the presence of the King's most elite armed forces?

Suddenly he was standing beside a man, the leader he figured. He was tall and muscular, with sharp, menacing features softened slightly by hid unruly mass of copper hued hair.

He watched a woman about a year younger than himself standing close to the captain quickly notch a bow. "Which target, Captain?"

The redhead turned to look at the young woman in disdain. "The Siren, you idiot!" he was close to shouting. Javar could sense his anger. He could also feel Sparla's presence in his mind, and knew she saw what he did. They had to move quickly.

He pulled himself back in, and stood for a moment, disoriented. Clutching the side of his head, he realized he wasn't fully there yet, as he heard the captain whisper "Fire."

Javar groaned. On one level he saw the arrow leave its notch, heard the bowstring twang, and saw it vibrate back and forth after the shot. On another, he felt Sparla shift with lightning speed next to him and felt the stream of white fire she sent into the forest beyond. Part of him was kneeling next to the Siren, pouring energy into her, his energy, his own life energy. Now why would he be doing a thing like that?

Another part of him was with the still sobbing man, who still sat where Sparla had left him. He forced himself into the man's mind, fighting through memories and emotions to get to the center. It was then that he realized he wasn't a man at all, but rather Twark. He pushed the revelation aside; he could gawk at the supposed to be extinct species later. He forced the Twark's body to move, and right in time, as a part of him saw the Captain give the signal (he had narrowly avoided Sparla's death flame) and the rest of his troop charged into the clearing.

"SFET!!!"  Javar swore in his mind. His body was still standing in the clearing, clutching the left side of his head, amazingly untouched by the thrashing dragon, her flames, airborne arrows or the swords that seems to be dancing in the air. He hated reaching out. He had failed it miserably in Venzi Training, and was still taking extra training form the colony's Magi, who Javar was quite sure never wanted to see his face again.

With a nauseating lurch, he was forcefully pulled out of the Twark's mind, the atmosphere and into his body. He dropped to his knees next to the cot, the world pitching around him. Forcing his eyes open, he used the technique the Magi had taught him. Centering his mind on one object, he focused his energy on it, willing everything else to be still. Biting back a sigh, he blinked, and quickly moved into action.

Within seconds the few supplies he had unpacked were secured within the Siren's cot. He had given her enough energy to stabilize her enough to fly. Maybe his inability to recollect himself immediately after reaching out was a good thing.

He hadn't checked the battle. He had a general jist of what was going on though, through his link with Sparla. The men were still fighting, all deftly dodging her attacks with ease. This frustrated Javar, and filled him with anxiety. Who were these men? He pulled the Twark over to where the Siren's still body lay. "Stay here," he ordered." And guard her with your life.”

The Twark looked at him with tear-filled eyes, but stopped sobbing. Javar took this as a sign that he had understood. He turned away. He had bigger problems to deal with at the moment.

'You should not attempt this.' Sparla's voice came to him, strong but tired. 'You could kill yourself, Javar.'

'Incorrect, my leather bellied friend. This is one thing I know I can do. The only place I excelled in training.' he replied.

He stood stock still pulling the energy towards him. He could feel it building, piling higher and higher inside him. He blocked out the Siren and the Twark, they needed their energy. He had never been able to draw energy from Sparla for this. No Venzez had ever been taught to draw from their dragons. It was unheard of.

Soon, it was ready. Javar focused on men around the clearing. They had all stopped fighting. Perhaps they could sense that their end was near. Perhaps they were considering the possibilities of why the massive Dragon had stopped fighting. Either way, Javar relished their stillness. It made it so much easier to focus in on them.

It was done. He had them all locked. The captain locked eyes with him, and a sudden realization lit his eyes. Just as the man notched an arrow, Javar Released. The feeling was incredible, like freefalling while being As One with Sparla. The men in the clearing were all exploding, one by one as the energy reached them and overloaded their bodies. Just as the energy reached the Captain, he let the arrow fly. Javar was caught off guard. The captain smiled evilly before meeting the same fate of his men.

As Javar watched him disintegrate, his eyes clouded black, and he fell to the forest floor, blood seeping through his uniform from the point where the arrow had pierced his heart.