The Owl Diaries DREGON, Pt. 3/4

The Owl Dairies are an entertaining series of complex relationships coping with the eternal struggle between chaos and light.  While learning Creation’s Will and struggling with one’s own, every creature on mythical Urthe, magical or non-magic, has the right to live in peace and prosperity.

Authored & Illustrated by
T.W.HEBERTSON

Copyright 2011 by T.W.HEBERTSON

All rights reserved


This work may not be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems without permission.


The Owl Diaries
-DREGON- Pt 3/4
         
         
The huge dragon spoke.  His voice resonated through the acrid smoke and twisting flames, “Dregon Vermilionax, I have been watching you.  Now, where is that giant rooster you sky around with?”
         “Over here, Vrax!” Snowbeak interrupted, escaping to higher ground above the rising flames.
Dregon only had to hear that name and a stirring of hatred swelled within him fueling his imagination of his father’s painful death.
Vrax spoke casually, “Ah, Ice Ghost, my old friend.  How long has it been?”
  “Not long enough,” the great owl replied sharply.
Onna picked herself up from the shaken ground and shouted, “Vrax!  The Narod has awakened and you have been summoned.”
Vrax felt good to hear those words again, “Just one moment, my dear,” he smiled wickedly charming to his newfound savior.
Snowbeak, again, diverted attention back to himself, “Vrax, she is mistaken.  The Narod is finished.  They are only but a memory from a bad dream.  This is a new world of peace where humanity is slowly outpacing creatures like us.  Let us show them we are not a threat.  Let us show them our valiant actions so they will not expedite our extinction driven by their fear.  Even those who have traveled the darkest of paths may still choose to follow the lighter.  You have a chance to start a new life and redeem yourself of the past”.  He continued diplomatically, “Vrax, I can help you.”
“I think not. I would have been never released by the likes of you or your pitiful band of delusional men,” Vrax roared.
Snowbeak warned, “Time has changed Vrax, this is your final chance.”
Vrax laughed evilly at the snowy owl, then inhaled a lung full of air and jumped, wings spread, landing at the base of rock where Snowbeak was perched.  Snowbeak anticipated the attack and was too quick as flames engulfed the outcrop of rock cremating the dirt and grown lichen.
“Over here Vraxy,” Snowbeak taunted, landing next to Dregon. “Get out now,” Snowbeak murmured.
Vrax took flight again and landed close to the shore sending crashing waves around them.  Vrax was indeed a mammoth mound of silvery scales and protruding sinuous muscle.  His mere presence projected fear and the power of death.  He towered over them, ground trembling as he walked slowly towards them.
Dregon was poised for an attack and ready to charge.  He was ready to puncture and tear into the softer underside of this evil behemoth.
Vrax stopped short recognizing the ‘death-glare’ in Dregon’s flashing green’s eyes, “Dregon do you know who I am?”
“Lying.  Deceitful.  Secretive.  Backstabbing, murderous, vile piece of fermented nob-goblin dung…yes, I can smell you from here,” Dregon voiced malevolently, eyes locked with his, unblinking.
“Now, is that any way to treat family?” Vrax calmly retorted.
Dregon’s concentration was unraveling due to anxiety, increased adrenaline and the boiling blood in his head, “Family? Ha! You were probably orphaned when your mother realized her piece of dung had eyes and talked.”
“I see you have caught Snowbeak’s infectious sense of humor.  I’m sure he has never told you the truth.  He’s always been good at guarding secrets and manipulating actions of others to fulfill the will of the Temblor Khabal Council.”  Vrax’s smile of dominance change to a more serious demeanor, “Dregon, I am your true brother.”
Now blinded by fury and chemically charged emotion racing throughout his body, the line between the rational and irrational had broken.  Another lie!  There was no time to process these thoughts as automatic instinct took over.
“DIE!” Dregon roared, shooting like an iron ball from a catapult and knocking Vrax backwards into the pool.  His claws sank into the huge dragon’s neck and upper chest ripping flesh from him.  Vrax roared in agony as they fought in and out of the waters’ edge.  They continually clawed and gnashed at each other until Vrax caught Dregon off balance and whirled him back towards the shore, crashing into Snowbeak.
Snowbeak lay dazed from the collision as Dregon slammed against a group of stalactites, breaking them from the ceiling.  Vrax charged them and with one mighty blow bludgeoned Dregon back down to the ground and whipped back around towards Snowbeak, “Time to die, Ice Ghost.”
Flames spewed from Vrax’s mouth as Dregon jumped into the line of fire.  He blasted frozen air towards the oncoming flames.  The two energies of destruction violently cancelled each another in a deafening explosion of light, flame, smoke and sporadic vapor trails of steam.
“Extraordinary,” Vrax was astonished.
Dregon and Snowbeak regained their ground and were again ready for another round of combat when a charged lightning bolt exploded into the ceiling above them, bringing an avalanche of rock and dust between the warring parties.
They all stopped, ears ringing, and looked back towards Onna holding her smoking staff.  “Vrax!  Hold your fire.  Diacmish wants you alive.”  She pointed her staff towards Snowbeak and Dregon,  “You two!  If anything happens to Vrax, Evaria dies.” 
Those two words instantly stopped an eruption of total death and unholy mayhem. A great standoff of venting hatred and malice energized the static air between the powerful creatures.  Heated tension surrounding these three could have melted lead.  They glared at each other as Vrax slowly backed away and lowered his head towards Onna.
“Hop up princess,” Dregon told Onna.
She climbed upon Vrax’s back and held onto his weathered back horns.  To Dregon’s shock, he noticed a figure eight pattern of scales on the dragon’s upper neck.  Father.  Brother?  Brothers?
“Boy’s if you value Evaria’s life you will not enter the Northern Realm ever again.  The Dival Narod is fully alive and well.  I suggest you stay out of the way.  Oh, give my regards to Marcham.  Tell him, it was fun while it lasted, he was never my type anyways.”
Vrax arose and spoke one last time, “Dregon, this is not over.  I will see you again, someday.  I look forward to our next, discussion.  You have a lot to learn.  I would rather not destroy my own brother, for the moment, unless you cannot come to your senses and recognize the power the world can offer you, instead of a worthless existence with that misaligned oversized pigeon.”  With a mighty gust of wind, Vrax jumped towards the ‘sky portal’ and vanished.  Time stood still, like a gnat caught in pine sap.  Exhaustion and pain embraced Dregon.  The rush of adrenaline had ceased.  Fatigue was approaching followed by somnolence.  He was dazed and confused.  Could I really have a brother? “Another secret?” Dregon asked Snowbeak, in defeat.”
Snowbeak could only manage one word, “Yes.”
Dregon fell into a stupor of thought.  He laid down, as his mind wandered aimlessly.  His eyes grew heavy.  He thought he heard ‘rest awhile’.  Darkness fell quickly upon him, he would be out for days.


Daybreak’s full glory blazed through the ‘sky portal’ and light danced about the cave, burning Dregon’s eyelids.  He slowly opened his eyes to see a silhouette sitting next to him, tending to his wounds.
“Good morrow Dregon, “Taudfre spoke calmly, “I understand you had a rough night of few days ago?  Snowbeak told me the whole story.  I’m sure you’re in as much shock about your brother, as I am in knowing that Evaria is in the hands of this evil before us.  This is the burden we are forced to carry in defending good and keeping evil out of our lands.  Marcham understands this sacrifice, although he is in shock as well.”  He shook his head, “Onna…I didn’t even see it coming.”
Dregon’s confusions and recent revelations were organized in dream as he rested during the past couple of days.  Dregon knew he was needed.  He knew his power could make a difference.  He knew he was a mighty creature that could influence the world.  His own sense of duty and obligation matched those highest within the Khabal. 
“We’ve battled this evil a good part of our lives and thought we were finished.  Retirement is not an option now.  There is no rest for the wicked and we are called upon to stir Morgoth from sleeping.  We do not have sufficient resources to march against Diacmish, but Evaria needs our help otherwise.  She needs you…we need you…I need you.”
Dregon arose somewhat refreshed.  His wounds were on the mend.  “I know,” he responded achingly.  He turned to Snowbeak standing in the shadows, “Are you ready to go, my brother?”
Snowbeak nodded.  Relieved to hear those words, ‘My brother’.  He wanted to say more.  He wanted to apologize.  But withheld his tongue for another time.  Evaria was the immediate priority.
Taudfre finished, “Dregon, I used to be a Wing Master who fought and rode side by side with the silver dragons, including your father.  I would be honored if I could fly one more time with you.”
Dregon rolled up on his feet, “Let’s sky.”

They flew down to the great hall where Marcham was waiting brokenheartedly about the truth of Onna.  His heart felt like an icy hand was crushing the existence out of it.  His eyes were red and his shirt tear soaked.  He had gathered food and supplies for the journey northward the previous night.  Snowbeak tried to console him.  Taudfre knew better not to say anything, for the moment, and silently waved Snowbeak away.  Only time could be the healer of this deep wound.  Taudfre mounted dragon tack and a saddle onto Dregon’s back.  He brandished a gleaming Elohm enchanted shield that bore the proud symbol of the Khabal and fastened it to the saddle.  He mounted the leather padded seat and prepared for their four day journey to Morgoth.  Marcham made a make shift harness out of leather straps and rope and secured it, redundantly, with quadruple knots upon Snowbeak and climbed unsteadily upon his broad shoulders.  He was already holding down his breakfast, “Let’s go get that witch.”


Evaria could see her breath hovering in the cold torch filled tall chamber.  She tightened her cloak to trap more body heat.  Imprisoned in a bluish swirling and glowing translucent pyramid which inhibited her powers of Elhom, she laid on the ground staring at the terminal point, ignoring Onna as she entered the room. 
“You should really eat something,” Onna looked down at the untouched plate of food on the ground.  I hope your head is feeling better.  You’re not very cooperative.  Now that Vrax has returned, Lord Diacmish has decided he wants Dregon as well.  If you play nice an arrangement could be made to exchange you for him.  Don’t plan on a rescue.  Snowbeak knows you will be killed if they try”, she feigned.
Evaria picked up the plate of food and hurled it towards Onna.  It bounced off the energized wall with a flash and a loud crackling noise.  The smell of burnt food and ozone permeated the air.  “You know Diacmish won’t release me.  He would soon dispatch me as he did with all the other dragons, when he claims his prize,” Evaria snapped backed.
“Well, either way, I believe Snowbeak is hard of hearing, like yourself.  Although warned, they probably have devised some foolishly scheme to rescue you.  They are probably half way across the Scoria Craters by now.  Lord Diacmish is preparing his defenses just in case they decided to crash our party.  He waits patiently to spring his trap upon them,” Onna said condescendingly, like speaking to a child.
“Why do my followers enjoy antagonizing prisoners with false hope and disinformation.  There is no need for discloser, truth or not.  It serve no creative purpose here, Divonna” a pale face with black hallow eyes, void of all white, appeared from the darkness.  “Surprise and stealth must always accompany us.  Not your pride and arrogance of catching one so…notorious” the low voice hissed behind Onna, weaving its way around her.
Onna bowed and retreated slightly as the Dark Master moved ghostlike into the chamber.  Other Dark Magi followed.  The ambient temperature dropped as moisture on the surrounding antiquated metal torture devices started to freeze.  The Magi looked un-urthly, undead, walking corpses that exist for the sole purpose of evil to hide somewhere.  Hideous dull faces always hooded and shaded.  Needle like teeth exposed when they talked to one another.  They are specters of ill-gain and devious uncertainty, the embodiment of everything contrary to Creation’s peaceful will.  They surrounded their newest captive.
“So this is the elusive Evaria, the great elohmancer and Aetherdyne warrior.  You have caused us great havoc and turmoil a long time ago.  You would have been wise to remain hidden and to pray for an expedient death.  You no longer have this convenience.  I assure you, your death is far off on the horizon as you will suffer much for your tenacious life.  Your failure to have seen the future is your demise and here you stand.” 
“You are on the same path that had you staring at death’s door, Diacmish.  It was mercy that kept you from being eradicated from this world.  I guess we too, make mistakes,” retorted Evaria.
Diacmish walked around the three walled cell, “You were right about one thing.  I will not let you go as long as your dwindling life remains so.”  The Dark Master clapped his hands together commanding the pyramid field to temporarily collapse upon Evaria.  She screamed in agony as her body was forcefully shocked.  He clapped again.  The intense pain shot through her soul as burn marks appeared on her body.  A twisted smile appeared with each flash of energy.  She collapsed unconscious.  He stared disappointingly at the unmoving body, “For my sake, I hope you will not die.”  With a waving dismissal of his blotchy bony hand he slowly spun on his heel to his confidant, “Is Strix and Vrax ready?” The confidant bowed his head in confirmation. “Good,” Diacmish left the chamber, his voice echoed down the tunnel, “Divonna, follow me.”










































On the morning of the fourth day the rescue party had reached the Yellow Smokey’s.  The Smokey’s were volatile volcanic lands spewing thick clouds of steam and super-heated water hundreds of feet into the brisk air.  Natural cauldrons and lakes of boiling yellow mud pot-marked the entire tectonic range.  Nauseous sulfuric fumes and poisonous gases deprived the region of any vegetation and inhabitants.  These geo-thermal landmarks were the gateway into the Northern Realm and soon they would arrive at the vast frozen tundra and mighty blue-iced glaciers that encompass and protect the Demon’s Throne.  By midday they landed at the doorstep of the snow covered Vogal Mountain Range, overlooking the distant Demon’s Throne.
“I can’t believe you puked all over me” Snowbeak stated annoyingly.
  “Sorry.  Too much turbulence” said Marcham.
Snowbeak held his breath, “Maybe the enemy will surrender from this awful smell.”
“Pay attention everyone.  Even though we could have better concealment among the ice hills, it’s too much of a risk to hike across the slippery glacier field.  There are numerous crevasses and chasms that are hundreds of feet deep, hidden by drifting unstable snowcaps, waiting to ensnare and swallow helpless wanderers of misfortune.  We should wait for the cover of night before skying to the throne,” said Taudfre.
“Diacmish must know we are coming.  I’m sure he is waiting this very moment to ensnare us.  We need a diversion”, Marcham fretted as his eyes of desperation focused onto the foreboding tower.
Snowbeak assumed his eclectic posture of deep thought, “Agreed”.  He stared at the blended grey horizon.  It was surreal for him to be back at his old skying grounds.  Torturous memories of youth unfolded in his mind’s eye, “If we cannot start one, maybe we can find one.”  He focused back on the small party, “Camp here until twilight.  Rest and gather your strength my friends.  I might be able to find those whom are willing to help us.  Look for me at dusk, then we will go and retrieve Evaria.”
Without any further discussion or opinion from the others, Snowbeak gallantly flew down the mountain the way they had just arrived and disappeared into the overcast western sky.
Marcham threw his hands into the air, “Oh this is great.  Just great.  Sir needs to be ‘mellow dramatic’ and ‘I have a giant ego’ unexpectedly decides, yet again, to leave us wondering and dismayed.  While we wait in bewilderment and fear, pondering the hundreds of unknown fates that lie before our feet.” 
“It’s an owl thing,” Dregon shrugged nonchalantly.
Marcham continued, “He does this every time…”
“Marcham, Marcham! calm down.  This is difficult for everyone here.  I trust Snowbeak completely, and by now, so should you.  He usually comes up with extraordinary solutions to extraordinary problems.  He has yet to let me down or has giving me thought to the contrary.  I’m sure we will be overwhelmingly surprised when he returns.  Where else could anyone, if anybody, find help in a godless desolated forsaken place such as this.  If anyone can, I’d bet the great hall, it would be Snowbeak.”
“I apologize.  I’m so furious about everything”, said Marcham.
Taudfre reassured him, “I understand.  But you cannot go into battle with a cluttered head.  Try to get some rest my friend.”
Rest did not come, for anyone. They spent the remainder of the day planning different attack scenarios and various stratagems.  Dusk had past and nightfall came quickly before Snowbeak finally arrived tired and out of breath, “Sorry I am late.  It took some extensive negotiations, but our reinforcements should be at the throne anytime now.”
“Who? Who did you find?” Marcham asked perplexed.
There was a distant lonely howl singing over the compacted glacier as the waning crescent moon rose in the eastern sky.  Two more howls briefly joined the chorus.  The noise was haunting.  Then silence.
Snowbeak replied, “Polar wolves.”
Marcham tried to speak but was cut off by Snowbeak, “No time to explain.  Those were the last two signals.  They are in position and await my command.  These wolves are, um, old acquaintances of mine.  They know the safest routes across the glacier field and know of hidden passageways that lead into Morgoth’s Stump.  They will enter at the bottom where Dregon and I will sky you.  They will help clear the tunnels as you follow behind them.  The magi usually hold prisoners in chambers near the top, most of the time.”  Snowbeak motioned to himself and Dregon, “We will sky to the top of Morgoth’s Stump and secure the upper entrances where hopefully you will meet us.”
“How do you know if there are entrances at the top?” Dregon inquired.
“I used to work here,” The owl replied smartly.  “Broonzane,  the leader of the wolf pack, has assured us success.”
“Wonderful.”  Marcham replied sarcastically.
“I’ll go with it.  It’s the best plan so far.  Any objections Marcham?” Taudfre retightened and secured the saddle.
Marcham shook his head, feigning no disagreement.
“I would give my right leaded feather to see Diacmish’s face as one hundred and eight fur frenzied legs go barreling through his tunnels reaping destruction upon anything that stands in their way,” Snowbeak added confidently.
Dregon was still trying to work the math, “So, how did you convince them to help us?”
Snowbeak boasted, “Because they know the son of Dregonus is with them”, he lied.
Taudfre interjected, “Snowbeak, you never cease to amaze me.”
“Nor I myself, Wing Master.  Just one more thing.  If the wolves cannot recognize you from the enemy, just say the password ‘bogey’ and no harm shall befall you.” Snowbeak gazed towards the black monolith protruding from the irregular surfaced moonlit ice and with a mighty lung full of air, expelled a hoot shattering call that pierced the dense unmoving frigid atmosphere, “HWOOOOT!” So it begins.















A torrent of howls and growls resonated through the maze of dark tunnels sending frighten and panicked magi running desperately for their very lives.  Foaming rabid mouths and gnashing sharp teeth bit and tore through robes and flesh.  Overturned tables, chairs, furnishings and torches littered the hallways and chambers as the wolf blitz continued.  Fires burned drapes, tapestries and other combustibles filling the halls with choking black smoke.  Gambling on the dangers of the glacier field, most of the magi had gathered at the top of the old volcano expecting an attack from above.  Caught off guard, the confused magi ran down the tunnels to defend the throne leaving only a few at the summit.  Some polar wolves were stunned or killed with spells and weapons.  But by the time the magi turned to attack another wolf it was too late.  The magi were overrun.
“We’ll meet you at the top!” Dregon reminded them as they flew upward along the weathered lava core. 
Marcham felt the cold caress of steel in the palm of his hand as he unsheathed his onyx-colored battle worn sword.
“Marcham, take my shield.  You need it more than I.  I can handle the rest of these magi blindfolded!” Taudfre forced the shield towards Marcham.
He hesitated for a second, then remembered Tuadfre’s ally of Elhom, he nodded with acceptance.  Marcham led the way as they followed the trail of destruction, searching every chamber they came upon.  They ran and stumbled over strewn debris and lifeless servants of Morgoth, fumbling their way through the dim light.
“Obsidio Impestus!” Two magi yelled, appearing from a forward tunnel.
Marcham raised the shield deflecting the powerful spells back towards them causing a tunnel collapse of rock and boulder.  The magi were crushed.  Taudfre ducted into an adjacent dust filled corridor as more magi appeared behind them.
  “Marcham behind you!”
  Marcham instinctively turned and deflected another impact spell which accidently collapsed the dusty corridor onto Taudfre.  “NO!” Marcham was terrified.  He lunged towards the oncoming magi, smashing one backwards into the wall splitting his skull and impaled the other in the bowels.  His sword freshly stained of carnage rang loudly as he quickly beheaded a fifth magi reciting an unfinished spell.  As the dust settled he ran back to the collapsed corridor and tried to move the heavy boulders that fell on Taudfre.  He could not see him.  Marcham yelled to Taudfre as he struggled removing the fallen rock.  There were too many of them.  Some he could not even budge, it was a futile effort.  There was still no answer or sound from the pile.  In a blink of an eye, Marcham had just lost his childhood friend.  He fell to his knees as shock over came him.  For the second time in his life and within a week of Onna’s deception, he was alone again.  He sat next to the fallen debris mourning his best friend.  A whirlwind of hopelessness and depression overwhelmed him.  What injustices in my life have I done to receive such a penalty as this?  What power has forced me to this demise?  Why do I lose everything that I hold dear?  These thoughts were interrupted by a cascade of crashing sounds from one of the many tunnels ahead.  He could hear more agonizing screams and howling in the faint distance.  Evaria!  My life for hers.  The despair quickly faded with the thought of rescuing her.  Must find her.  Marcham’s physical endurance recharged with the speed of mountain lion.  He bolted up seeming with rage and revenge.  He was berserk.  If I die today it will be a good death.  He gave himself but one choice, move forward.

Loud screeches and hooting bellowed from the volcano’s summit.  Morgoth owls dove off the edge of the core and collided in mid-air with Dregon and Snowbeak.  A collage of ripped and torn feathers floated gently in the midnight sky as the prodigious creatures toppled towards the ice.  Mighty talons and trap-tight beaks continually snapped at Snowbeak, but he was too agile.  When he was younger, Snowbeak was the best skyer from the Northern Realm and age had yet to defeat him.  He was so fast that he left pursuing owl’s blinded and disoriented in his turbulence.  His infamous disappearing maneuvers of speed earned him the reputation as the “Ice Ghost”.  Snowbeak continued to out fly, dive and twist his way around the clustered aerial melee.  Snowbeak grabbed beak fulls of flight feathers from the green-beaks, younger owls, and rendered them flightless.  He ripped out eyes from other unfortunate enemies and mangled the wings of veteran ‘skiers’.  Just like old times. And I hate it.
Dregon never fought so many combatants at once.  As a matter of fact, Vrax was the first formal resistance he had ever encountered beyond ordinary prey.  Vrax, where are you hiding?  Killer owls are most effective as a group when taking down a dragon.  He was over taken by older and experienced ‘dragon killers’ trying to pierce his face and eyes, but they quickly let go after receiving cryogenic burns to their bodies.  As the owls tried to regroup, Dregon randomly caught individuals with his knife like claws and froze the birds with his deadly ice-breath, dropping their frozen bodies which shattered into icy fragments upon impact.  Dregon flew around the core circling, clawing and freezing running magi as they ran for cover.  Back and forth he flew distracting and thwarting their efforts to cast directed spells.  Snowbeak rejoined the ambush and snatched more magi from the air and hurled their bodies to the glacier below.  The Dark Magi and apprentices underestimated Dregon’s natural resistance from Elohm attacks and began to retreat into the core.  A giant war-battered black owl appeared out of sight and pinned Snowbeak's wings and shoulders as they both plummeted and whirled towards the deadly glacial crevasses, “Tag, your dead Ice Ghost!”
“Strix, what a surprised to see you here.  I thought you would of learned your lesson from the broken wings I gave you at the Flaming Gorge” Snowbeak continued struggling to break free from the wing lock. 
  “Remember this old trick, you taught it to me.”
“Of course I do, but when you let go I’ll break your wings again”, Snowbeak forgot how powerful Strix really was.  Stealth way his formidability and he felt like a fool for letting his guard down.
“Who said I was going to let go”  Strix tightened his hold as the ground came into clearer view. 
Pain shot into Snowbeak’s shoulders as blood and burning poison mixed together from steel toed syringes fastened to Strix’s talons, “A gift from Diacmish. Clever, don’t you think?” Snowbeak’s vision began to blur.  The ground below lost its detail in a muddle of lost depth perception.  His senses burned.  His breathing became labored and heavy.  The surface of the glacier zoomed past him as they fell into a dark deep crevasse.












The incline of the tunnels gave Marcham hope that he was going the right direction, at least of all, upward.  The sound of trampling feet and heavy breathing preceded the appearance of panicked magi.  They sprinted down the corridors and around blind corners impelling themselves upon Marcham’s steadfast sword.  More and more magi were permanently wounded or slain as he continued the search.  Taudfre’s shield proved to be invaluable.  It deflected various spells and curses, causing one magi to become petrified and another to dissolve into unrecognizable goo, while another rolled on the ground gouging his eyes out writhing in torment.  The bloody mayhem continued the further he climbed until a pack of white wolves, painted with blood and dirt, furiously charged him.
Wolves, remember the password. “Bog, er…bonney, n-no…BOGEY!” Marcham braced for the wolf attack and raised the shield up, battle hand ready. The frenzied wolves stopped inches from Marcham, eyeing him.  Foam and blood dripped on his boots as the wolves sniffed him to accept his new identity.  The wolves’ ears reared up.  They bolted back up the ascending tunnel.  In a flash, they were gone.  “Roll the bones”, Marcham spoke under his breath wiping the sweat from his brow, relieved beyond measure.  He regained his composure and chased after the fur-borne predators, Now I remember why I don’t allow animals in the house.  Stopping at a multi-passage intersection, he could not decide where to continue.  Eerily, there was a complete absent of sound as he felt like a thousand eyes were watching him, he felt exposed.  It became abnormally cold as he could see his own breath through the fire light.  He backed into the shadows for concealment and noticed a bluish pulsating light shining down a perpendicular passageway.  He crept slowly towards the light with extreme caution, anticipating the unexpected.
“Evaria!” Marcham whispered loudly.  She was already awake from all the commotion during the past hour.  Badly bruised and burned she whispered back, “Oh Marcham!”
He stepped into the chamber of torture devices looking around for awaiting danger, “Are you alright?”
She staggered towards him, “It hurts to breath, don’t touch the pyramid.  I’m sorry you’re here.  I didn’t know…It was Onna”.
“I know.  I know.  Where is she now?” Marcham asked.
  “Haven’t seen her since the attack.  Where is Taudfre?”
Marcham hesitated to speak from the instant weight of emotion pressed by Taudfre’s death.  He walked slowly as close as he could to Evaria, looking past the swirling blue field, staring at her silent hopeful eyes, he shook his head back and forth. 
“NO!” she fell to the ground, hands on her face, crying.
A hooded robed figure stealthily floated down from the shadowed recess of the high chamber, “PULSIRUS!”
Marcham was pounded by an unseen force against the charged pyramid wall as an instant array of multiple lightening fingers crackled through his leather armor burning his flesh.  Moments later he fell to the ground, weaponless and clothes smoldering.
“YOU BASTARD!” Evaria shrieked.
“Silence witch!” Diacmish clapped his hands and the pyramid collapsed inwardly.  She fell to the ground gasping for air.  “I do not recognize you.  Not exactly the big catch of the day but my owls will have fun with you later.  Pulsirus!” Marcham’s body slammed into the jagged rock wall.  He failed to get up.  Diacmish hovered over his limp body, “Temblor Khabal.  I recognize your shield.  Not quite the rescue you had hoped for, is it?” he sneered.  “Your Khabal is extinct.  You may as well not exist, my friend.  And now, you are extinct” the Dark Mage raised his arms to perform a killing spell but was interrupted by the appearance of his confidant bowing at his side, “You disturb me again.  Hold your tongue and wait for me.  I am almost finished here.”
The confidant bowed again and fell in place behind his master.  Diacmish turned to Marcham.  He stretched forth his hands as they commenced to glow.  He continued the spell, “Excessu-Uuuhh!”. 
An explosion of blood appeared on Marcham as he gasped in horror.  He clenched his body feeling for wounds.  He crawled fervently retreating from the Dark Mage, waiting for another attack.  Diacmish stood there unmoving.  His glowing hands grasped tightly around the shiny metal blade protruding from his chest.  Blood cascaded by the liters as the confidant’s sword released its hold from Diacmish’s back.  Unceremoniously, the Dark Mage collapsed into the pool of his black blood.  A shiny golden amulet attached to a leather-braided cord rolled away from his lifeless body.  He breathed no more.