The Owl Diaries, DREGON Pt.2/4

The Owl Diaries
-DREGON-
Pt. 2/4


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.


Overhead, a shaft of fading daylight penetrated the dimly lit cave.  Wet urthe and undisturbed musty air permeated the cavern.  Snowbeak and Dregon flew through the hole in the ceiling as they reveled in last night’s events.  They both agreed they had an enjoyable time in the great hall even though it was a little too warm for either of them.  But they would return regularly for neighborly visits.  When spring did arrived, Dregon remembered his “invitation” to help Marcham and Onna move to their new home in the giant cottonwood canopies, a communal dwelling known by its villagers as Cottonwood Heights.  But at the time, he did not comprehend the sarcastic proposal by Marcham.  It was understood much later that he and Snowbeak should stay away from the uninviting villages and fear-dwelling citadels of people, especially during the daylight.  So the veil of nighttime became their playground for new adventures outside of the daily mountain routines. 
Snowbeak placed his Aetherdyne ledger in his hollow through an opening high atop the cavern wall.  He enjoyed dictating to the magical book every night.  Words would appear or disappear with every spoken word uttered.  He found himself obsessed with the works he would endlessly put into it, spending hours in his hollow by the ambient light.  As the seasons past, Dregon became acutely aware of his surroundings.  One night after closing the ledger, Snowbeak flew down to Dregon who was sitting next to the undisturbed pool starring over the craggy ice tower into the blackness.  A chill traveled up Dregon’s spine, “Something doesn’t feel right out there”, stretching his neck to the void with a singular nod of his head. 
“Perhaps, it is just too dark.  Let me enlighten you.  Incendium ver aqu!” Snowbeak’s voice bounced of the cavern walls, commandingly.  Within moments, islands of flame rose from the water illuminating the whole cavern into a dance of flickering shadows and orange glowing firelight.  For once, Dregon could now see the deep cave in its entirety.  Various rock formations, hanging stalactites and stalagmites sparkled with new form and dazzling character.
  “Elohm?” Dregon stared wonderingly.
Snowbeak exhaled, impressed with his ability, “Indeed.”
  “Will you teach me Elohm, Snowbeak?”
“Elohm is all ready within you little brother.  I can only direct you and show you the paths that I have taken.  It would take a lifetime of ten, maybe, to fully understand it.  Every creature is born with Elohm ability; most are unaware that they have this gift.  These gifts differ from one creature to another as unique traits to talents.  Your trait of breathing ice instead of fire is just but one example.  In time you will get to know your potentials and abilities…then it will be your decision to do as you will with them.  But yes, I will help you.”

  As the weeks flew by teaching Dregon more about Elohm, howling rainstorms gathered in strength scrubbing the mountainside.  Cold billowy dark clouds had laden the ground with ever increasing amounts of rain and hail.  They stayed inside the cave the next few days as Dregon hopped and glided over rocks and boulders practicing skying while he explored.  He foraged button-fungi growing in the nooks and cracks of the cave and scuttled blind cave fish in the pool.  Dregon always felt energized and invigorated when he drank cold water or digested fallen ice and hail.  Dregon tried freezing the fires over the water with his ice breathing, but to no avail, his little lungs soon became tired and achy.  Snowbeak gave Dregon the freedom and liberties to explore on his own as he worked in his diary.  But being cooped up with a noisy juvenile dragon took on new tolls of frustration.
“Hey! Hey, hey, ey, e…Ha! Ha, ha, a, a…Hello! Hello, hello, ello, lo,” echoed Dregon, amusingly entertained.
Snowbeak could no longer concentrate.  What is this new fusing about?  What is that little dragon up to now?  He slammed the book shut in defeat and flew down to the water’s edge.
“What are you doing Dregon?”
  “I hear myself talking…Howooo! Howooo, howooo, howoo, howo,” Dregon smiled up at Snowbeak impressed with his new found discovery. 
Normally, Snowbeak would have been disturbed by a response like this, but wisely understood and remembered the fascination and wonderments of one so young.
“Why do I keep hearing my voice?” Dregon inquired.
Ah, another chance to impress upon a young mind with my tenacity of philosophy.  Snowbeak searched the recesses of his brain formulating a clever response, “That is your inner voice speaking back to you,” locking his eyes seriously with Dregon’s. “It is a healthy sign which reminds us that we are not yet deafened by the distractions of life.  A sign which most do not hear because they are bound by false precept upon precept, created by misguidance and destructive forces of the natural.  Creation is supernatural.  Most struggle in their search for Creation’s will; to exist in peace and harmony with all creations.  Far too many dwell in the natural because they have yet to realize they are also supernatural.  Your inner force is the key to this understanding.  Learn to hear it.  Learn to talk with it.  Learn to use it.  Learn to live by it.  Be a creation in the world and not of it.  As long as you can hear your voice from the void, you remain free and unbound by those natural instruments of bondage.”
Snowbeak could see a dazed and confused expression in Dregon’s crossed eyes as they wandered ever increasingly towards the ceiling.  This was not the thought provoking reaction Snowbeak had hoped for.  He bluntly ended his speech, “Go ahead Dregon just keep listening, test for echo.”

A new summer was in full bloom.  During that time they explored and hunted all across the Vorandel and neighboring mountain ranges for food and game.  Every day, when possible, Snowbeak continually instructed Dregon on improved flight techniques.  Even though Dregon had a short attention span, Snowbeak’s witticisms, philosophies, sarcasms and zeal for life, eventually rubbed off onto Dregon, as they joked and taunted each other throughout the lazy days of summer.  Snowbeak talked very little about Dregon’s parents, only enough to make the young dragon feel proud about them.  They kept up social visits with Taudfre, Evaria, Marcham and Onna, learning more about other cultures and different inhabitants of Urthe.  Taudfre taught Dregon celestial mechanics and runic academia while Evaria taught the silver dragon seasonal harmonics and other natural sciences, in addition to helping him understand and focus his talents of Elohm.  And by the Summer Solstice with much trial and failed efforts, success had come at last.  Dregon, at an early age, could finally command fire from the cave’s waters. 





























Dark tongue and reverberated chanting flooded the twisting maze of torch lined long-shadowed corridors.  These extinct lava tubes once feed magma to the top of Morgoth’s Stump, now known as the Demon’s Throne.  Through time and erosion, the only remaining tribute to this once megalithic, violent, and destructive volcano is a single core of cooled lava that stands as a monumental beacon among the frozen glaciers and deadly crevasses that surround it.  Black outer columnar sides make it appear like an ancient petrified sawed off tree stump touching the gray and gloomy skies above.  Black cloaked figures with overlaid white script encircle another wearing a maroon cloak with silver design.  Their voices drone ceremoniously in the obsidian glazed and scoria bubbled chambers, repeating verses from a raspy deep voice from within the center. Hanging cauldrons of hallucinogenic spiced incense fills the cavern with weaving ghost-like fingers.  Smoke surrounds the flickering candles and cloaked figures, as the chanting ends in dead silence.  The hooded figures, quietly, slowly, turn around and with the rustling of robes they disappear from the chamber into the vast array of endless hallways; the second Season of Gathering had finished.  This quarterly annual ritual validated authority and instruction through secret handgrips, coded spoken word and beetle-oil anointing.  Members who violated these protocols or countered authority were ‘Blood Atoned’ during this time, forgiveness by death.  The wet floor glistened in red.  The maroon cloaked figure remained unmoving in the dim light while spying the eager apprentice and confidant, who quietly slipped into the shadows just before the end of the gathering.
“Why do you disturb me?” hissed the unmoving figure.
The confidant stepped forward into the candlelight revealing his pale face and black shiny eyes through his tattered hood, “News from the Middle Realm, imperious one.”
“Go on,” the voice clinched back.
“There is rumor of new threat.  Another, ‘silver sliver’ has come forth,” the confidant now stood with pride and conviction, like a canine waiting for a rewarding treat from his master.
“Impossible, all the dragons were wiped out, save the one.”
The confidant slumped to his formal composure, “Maybe this is the one, master. Maybe he has escaped.”
“If he had escaped from his hidden imprisonment he would have returned for our protection of his betrayal.  Nevertheless, our stags still search all the realms for our companion of fire.  I feel he is still alive.  Until these fallen crumbs of information have validity or become self-evident they are nothing more than mere ‘wives tales’ and scattered voices in the wind.  I grow weary of every rumor you bring me.  When Strix and the others return, send him to me…you may leave.”
“Yes master,” the confidant bowed away, his hasty footsteps faded down the tunnel.





































The years had come and gone quickly since Dregon froze the talon of his soft-feathered brother and mentor.  He had grown almost to full size.  His metallic silver scales, now hard as plate-mail, mimicked his surroundings making him difficult to see.  This natural camouflage was a prized asset among the Temblor Khabal during stealth raids against their enemies.  Like Snowbeak, he became an excellent ‘sky master’; maneuvering quickly through slot canyons, controlling free falls, skying inverted, performing grace under pressure aerial acrobatics, snatching prey from the sky, and executing high altitude lightning-fast, silent dives onto game below.  This maneuver was known as H.A.L.O. (Hungry Always Look Out!).  Both of them enjoyed ‘sky-bogging’; A game which could only be played during the wintertime.  They would fly by night to sleeping villages and towns where children built armies of snowmen and snow castles during the day.  Dregon and Snowbeak would race through the midnight sky swooping down upon these armies, taking the rolled heads and torsos of snow people and would chase each other through the trees, dwellings, and clouds trying to knock down one another with these great balls of snow.  “Bogey” became an adversarial term used in ‘sky-bogging’.  The village children never understood how the snowmen walked away or just disappeared over night.





























Snowbeak’s vision at night was astounding.  He could see further and far more detail in the dark compared to Dregon’s natural thermal vision.  However unique their vision was in comparison to the standards of most Urthe inhabitants, it did not measure to Dregon’s lethal ability to breathe ice.  He could focus a breath of compressed cryogenic air that would freeze a marsh-ox within moments, and then shatter it to pieces with his hard spiked tail.  His breath could instantly freeze cloud vapor and create pumpkin sized hail, which could severely damage or even kill from up high.  Dregon became a mythical creature that most feared and hoped for extinction.  He and Snowbeak explored distant lands and other realms of Urthe by starlight.  They encountered other Urthe folk and saw many different creatures that lived in the wilderness and surrounding regions.  Snowbeak was well known among the Nauthirium watermen for his mighty wing power.  Once, he helped the watermen move a stranded gigantic vessel that beached itself onto their coral reef village during the annual autumn squalls.  The Nauthirium breathe underwater and can out swim most creatures of the deep with their muscular terminated fin.  They call the treacherous Brehenian Depths home and find comfort in the fluid movement of the Palria Ocean.  The watermen feel a kindred relationship to those creatures that fly or swim and avoid walking upon the ground, for this is their natural order of things.  Thanks to Snowbeak’s reputation, they taught Dregon to water-stroke and to gather from the depths of the deep blue. 























During a breezy late summer’s twilight, while flying back from the red rock slot canyons of Nobgob Valley, home of the small ill-tempered nob-goblins, Dregon spotted a flock of giant birds moving towards the orange setting sun when the flock suddenly turned south and moved towards them.
“Look Snowbeak, owls.  Those must be your long lost relatives.  That ugly one must be your Grandma,” Dregon jested.
Snowbeak looked at the distant birds and immediately recognized danger. “Dregon hurry! Hide. Hide quickly! Follow me!” Snowbeak collapsed his wings and dove as fast as he could into darkening desert swell, Dregon followed without hesitation.  They raced in unison along a deep winding canyon zipping back and forth into its narrowing walls as they out flew the flock of owls.  Dregon became concerned and confused never seeing such a worried expression on Snowbeak’s face before.  But his immediate instinct to trust Snowbeak may have saved his life that night.
“Over there!” Snowbeak radically banked in mid-flight and darted directly into a narrow recess along the red sand stone canyon wall.  An overhanging ledge of draping vegetation obscured the entrance.
“Do not hesitate to breathe ice upon anything that comes through this passage,” Snowbeak whispered breathlessly.
They sat in the dark hollow as the increasing sound of thundering wings and rushing wind bellowed up the canyon towards them.  Horrendous hoots and screeches panicked Dregon as he saw powerful blurs of white, black and brown imagery racing past the opening.  The sound faded down the canyon as quickly as it had come followed by the comforting cool twilight breeze. 
They sat in unmoving silence, listening carefully.
“Can you tell me what that was all about?” Dregon whispered. 
“I’m not sure, I just wanted to be safe,” Snowbeak lied.  His concentrated glowing eyes dilated in the dark.
“Well it looks like we’re fairly safe now.  So tell me why we are hiding from owls that look amazingly like yourself, brother?”
Snowbeak stood there silently as permanent waves of thought echoed in his head.  He was temporarily speechless as he gazed through the power windows of memory searching for the right words to say.  He dreaded this moment and knew it had come to pass.  But not so soon, not now.
“Look…I’m going out to take a peek and you’re welcome to come along,” Dregon finally broke Snowbeak’s trance.
“What? Wait.  Best to stay here a little bit longer, wait for more stars to appear.”
“Why?” demanded Dregon, “Tell me.”
Snowbeak cautiously thought a moment longer and replied, “Because they are the ones who want you dead.”
Dregon was about to learn the rest of the story, almost.


“Looks like we lost them,” Strix stated furiously.
  “Are you sure it was him?” asked one of the giant weathered owls.
Strix overlooked the horseshoe shaped gorge peering into the vague darkness for any movement and then turned his large black ruffled head to the spotted owl, “Looks like the rumors are true.  We have a Stone Feather to attend to.  And yes, it was him.  Ole’ Ice Ghost, the traitor.  They must know we are here and will stay well hidden, we will not find them tonight.”  Strix turned to another large malefic gray owl, “Hooknose, sky back to the throne and tell Master Diacmish what has transpired.  We will set a watch around these canyons and search for them at dawn.”


“I am a dragon killer, Dregon…I mean I was a dragon killer.”
  “What sort of mushrooms have you been eating?” Dregon said in disbelief.
Snowbeak took a deep breath and settled back against the warm wall.  “I did not want any misconstrued feelings about this matter, listen…Many years ago I was born and raised near the glacier fields of Morgoth.  I never knew my real parents.  I was “adopted” by the Dival Narod to become a servant of war as were other owls and captive creatures in the Northern Realm.  Our sole purpose was to be the forward eyes of the Narod Armies and to seek out dragons and destroy them.  I was young and did not know any better.  I knew no other life outside of violence and death.  Fear, fighting, domination, and killing are the cornerstones among the Dark Magi.  Unfortunately, the perpetual lie that owls and dragons have always been mortal enemies is still taught by owl families.  I fought in the Decca War between the Dival Narod and the Temblor Khabal when I encountered your mother”, Snowbeak reflected some more, inhaling another deep slow breath.  “I was near death, badly bleeding and beaten by another dragon.  My body lay wasted upon Dome Rock in the Mirror Hollows, the same mountain we explored last year with Evaria and Onna.  The whole battle was torturous.  Thunder and wind crashed violently in the ghoulish green summer sky, deafening my hearing.  Pouring sheets of stinging rain drowned my senses.  As I fought to open my eyes she appeared above me.  She straddled my body, her weight pressing the life out of me.  Her numerous razor sharp teeth flashed in the exploding lightning all around us, barring her revengeful smile of doom.  Imminent death glared from her vibrant blue narrowing eyes.  She leaned face to face with me.  Her hot breath and penetrating growl shook the very fabric of my soul.  I knew I was done.  And I was finished.  Not just finished with battle, I was finished with life.  I wanted to die.  With my final breath I turned to the heavens and cried, WHY?”
Snowbeak regained his composure, “A single shaft of bright yellow light pierced through the pitch cloud cover and showered us in radiance.  The rain stopped abruptly.  Your mother’s gaze shifted towards the sky.  I know she was mesmerized by its beauty just as I.  Before I slipped into darkness her face suddenly changed from one of fatality to that of humility.  She arose and roared mightily spewing flames into the afternoon sky.  I do not remember her carrying me away from all that was evil in the world that day.  I awoke days later in a small clearing surrounded by a concealed thicket of walled pine trees and white glowing rock.  She was there.  Leaning over me.  Looking my body over with her great horned head and tending to my wounds.  Her face radiated with happiness.  Was I dreaming?”
“How do you feel little feather?” she asked in a soft voice.
“I stared into her deep blue eyes and could not mutter a word.  There was a feeling of calm and peace I had never known.  It was all around us.  It was in the trees and the rocks.  It was in the air and the ground.  I was not scared.  I just laid there enveloped by warmth and love.  I did not want to move.  I was a new creature”.
         “How she was drawn to this urthe-node is something I still do not comprehend to this day?  I believe she had such a charitable pure heart that Creation pulled her there.  This is my belief.”
  “Urthe-node?” asked Dregon.
“An urthe-node is a place where Elhom flows freely without bounds, giving forth energy and healing power.  Rather, a place to meditate and reflect.  A place to feed the supernatural soul and become closer to Creation.  A place to commune with Creation.  Nodes are scattered throughout Urthe, but they are very rare and difficult to find because they constantly move from place to place.  Consider yourself extremely lucky if you chance upon one.” Snowbeak’s voice became more serious as he struggled leaving the singular memory of nirvana, “Later, I was introduced to other hesitant dragons.  I had to constantly prove my allegiance to them but they gradually accepted my trust.  They hid me from the other owls and Dark Magi who found out that I had disclosed strategic information about their weaknesses.  I wanted nothing more to do with the Narod or of war.  I did not even want to fight for the Khabal.  Our mother, Varazel, raised me under counsel from the Temblor Khabal.  She taught me new ideas and principles of living.  Dregonous, our father, was betrayed and killed by another silver dragon named Vrax.  This was unheard of.  This treacherous dragon was enticed by dark power offered from the Dark Magi.  He received protection and learned black knowledge of Elhom.  Vrax was a stag, an unknown, spying for the Dival Narod.  He gave the magi the locations where the Khabal dragons could be found and slaughtered.  Vrax was eventually caught and instead of being put to death for his heinous crime he was imprisoned for eternity to forever remember his betrayal, a sentence worse than death.  A powerful curse was placed upon his body petrifying him.  As continue torture, he was left with the ability to hear and see the world around him as time continued on.  With Vrax imprisoned the scales of justice had tipped to the Khabal’s favor.  The downfall of the Dival Narod soon came to an end.  Exhausted efforts and their hold upon the lands were broken and beaten down.  Wars, battles and sufferings had ceased.  Most of the Narod was destroyed.  The rest vanished quickly and quietly into the dark corners of Urthe and have not been seen since.  Peace has prevailed throughout the kingdoms.  Creatures and mankind are now prosperous again.  But men quickly forget the sacrifices it takes to maintain freedom.  Men seem to slip easily into behaviors that counters Creation’s will.  Recently, according to Taudfre and Marcham, there have been stirrings and rumor of dark dealings and dark crafts hidden in the very shadows of the citadels and towns of men.  And I think it was no coincidence that we flew into trouble this very night”.
Dregon stood there puzzled and wallowed with the overwhelming information that was thrust upon him, “Why wasn’t I told about all this earlier?”
Snowbeak’s chest swelled, his eyes never leaving Dregon’s, “You are the only known remaining dragon.  We want to protect you.  We want you to grow with integrity and virtuous fulfillment.  To learn what is honorable in doing good and never having to worry about the evils of this world.  To bask in the rewards of sacrifice and victory for which our parents valiantly gave their lives for.”
“We want?” Dregon responded in a forced tone.
Snowbeak paused looking at the ground then shifted his large commanding eyes again towards Dregon, “Evaria, Onna, Taudfre, Marcham and myself are a few of the remaining Temblor Khabal Guardians.  We guard the secrets that still protect these lands. Hiding and protecting you before your ‘Egg-Break’ day from greedy or destroying eyes was one of these secrets.  We had hoped that one day you would also join the Khabal by your own choosing.  We would have preferred to give you a few more years before disclosing this information but tonight has forced the issue.  Our parents protected your freedom and the right for you to choose your own path and I am here to protect that gift.  This is not the most venerating way in which we would have asked you to join us but your family offers this invitation freely.  What say you, Dregon Vermilionax Stone Feather?”
Dregon was quiet, what seemed like an eternity, staring unemotionally at Snowbeak.  He sized up the great owl.  Then he scratched his head and stared into the invisible voids surrounding the owl.  He never really noticed the smoothed contoured ground before, with its micro grit weathered texture.  Off in the distant he heard the calls of cawing desert crows.  The dragon begun to stir and focused his thoughts while making disgruntled growling noises, along with discouraged facial contortions and tapping his clawed-foot.  Dregon scornfully looked into Snowbeak’s hopeful eyes with malice, “And you assumed that I would just go ahead and join, didn’t you?”
Snowbeak felt like he was hit over the head by a fallen tree.  His feathered crown felt uncomfortably warm, as he did not know how to respond.  Dregon should have been pleased.
Dregon continued shaking his head, “If there’s one “virtuous” thing I’ve learned from you, Snowbeak” he stared down those yellow moon shaped eyes with conviction, “It’s the misguided subtlety of manipulating emotion.”  He paused again letting Snowbeak sweat it out.  A wide devious grin spread from horn to horn knowing he had just fooled the “wise” owl.  “You should see your face!  How Precious.  Of course I’ll join, you big wingnut!” he laughed uncontrollably grabbing Snowbeak’s shoulder.  Snowbeak felt like someone opened an emotional floodgate releasing a tsunami of mixed feelings, guilt and sudden relief.  He was just had. 
“You are horrible, you over-sized scaly winged worm,” remembering all the times he had taunted Dregon in the past. “That was pretty convincing my slippery little brother.”
Both of them swelled with laughter forgetting about their current dilemma.
“Oh, I’ve learned from the best,” Dregon wiped tears from his eyes.
  “Or the worst,” Snowbeak added heartedly.
They stayed a while longer until they were both composed and in tune with the serious nature of the looming matter. 
Snowbeak cautiously looked into the canyon and towards night sky, “Good, the clouds have overtaken the moon.  We should be able to move without being seen.  I recognized one of the owls.  There is an older black owl named Strix, he is the leader.  He is very shrewd and imposing but I could always out sky him,” Snowbeak smiled. “They are out there, waiting, but that should not be a problem.  Just stay close to me and keep silent.”  With that advice they backtracked the way they came in, flying low and silently into adjacent side canyons.  They were never spotted the rest of the night.










A couple of daybreaks later they arrived at the great hall to tell everyone what had happened.  No one was there.  Finally, that evening Taudfre raced up on horseback baring discouraging new from the Cotton Bottom Inn.  Taudfre explained that Onna and Evaria rode to Ekaltlas for seasonal supplies and to visit old friends.  They were well past a week in their return to the Cottonwoods.  Marcham and Taudfre had set out several days ago and found out that the women never made it to their friend’s dwelling in the city.  They covered a lot of ground searching and interviewing people along the common routes by horseback.  Dregon and Snowbeak offered to search more difficult routes that night.  There were many distant fire lit encampments all along these roads and outlying trails.  But there was no sign of the girls.  A few days later they all met in the secluded foothills of the Ochre’s and devised another flight pattern for that evening’s search.  Snowbeak recapped the events from Nobgob Valley and Dregon’s acceptance into the Khabal.
“Dregon we are honored that you have joined us and I promise to throw you the best celebration you’ve ever had when this is all over.  With all the ongoing whispers, dark roomed chattering, and feedback from town to town, and now this, I think the sum of these events equals a posturing threat.  Darkness is falling upon the Middle Realm again.  This feels like the Dival Norad, especially if you did recognize this black owl from Morgoth.  I fear that the Dark Magi or even Diacmish may not have been severely wounded as we were led to believe.  If so, they could have had sufficient time to regain a foothold and summon the courage to cause more trouble.  We are in no position in defending a major attack.”  Taudfre pondered, “The old ways are faded.  The old days are gone.  I fear the Khabal is diminished.”  Taudfre hit his gloved fist against a mighty oak tree, “You give the magi an inch and they always take a league.  Diacmish and his followers were graciously given the remainder of their days to decay in peace without being utterly destroyed, and for what?  It has been briefly quiet until now.  Is it possible they so quickly mended their wounds and renewed their ambitions to cover the land with their foulness?”
Dregon interjected, “Let’s not jump to conclusions yet.  Evaria and Onna may have been sidetracked or have become temporarily distracted.  They have been known in the past to show up where you least expect them.”
“No. Not this time.  Evaria has always been dependable,” Taudfre stoked the ash-covered coals haphazardly in the campfire.
Marcham emphasized, “I think Dregon has a valid point.  Onna is always fashionable late, Taudfre.  Granted it has been over a week but Onna has a habit of disappearing own her own for weeks at a time, without a trace and I know she can take care of herself.  And with Evaria at her side I am worried even less.  I’m sure we will see them in a few more days”.
“When midday arrives, Dregon and I will sky towards the southern end of the valley and work our way back to the Vorandel.  Do not fret my friend, everything will be alright.”



































After the party had a chance to rest up for the day Marcham and Taudfre started their two day journey back to the great hall.  Dregon and Snowbeak continued their search in the valley’s end most of the day before heading back to the Vorandel.  On their way they back they hunted valley gantelope and ate their meal atop the comfort of Lone Peak.  As twilight approached, they sat at the peak’s tip surveying the towns that looked like distant pinpricks of star light, scattered up and down the darkening contours of the valley below. 
Snowbeak noticed the glow of fire coming from their cavern located a thousand feet below them at the base of the vertical shear wall, “Look at that.”
Dregon’s attention was glued to the remaining pieces of the succulent gantelope, “Rook at rhut,” he said with a mouthful.
  “Down there.”
Dregon swallowed, “I still don’t see anything,” as he gazed around the purple hazy horizon.
With a theatrical huff, Snowbeak impatiently forced his way past Dregon to get a better view along the mountain wall, “Move, your blocking my vision.”
Dregon backed away, “Sorry, I didn’t know you were having one,” replying sarcastically.
  “Did you leave the lights on while we were away?” asked Snowbeak.
Dregon then saw the faint glow of light and then he huffed, putting his clawed fists on his waist, “Now Snowbeak, you know better than that. You know I don’t like to waste Elohm?”
Instinctively, they both looked at each other with a stare of amused uncertainty.
Dregon raised a brow and nodded, “Let’s sky”.  He hastily dove off the peak towards the cavern as Snowbeak gracefully glided down the cliff face with the ease of a floating feather.
“You sure are getting slow with old age,” Dregon said jokingly, as they landed in the amber fire lit cavern.
“Haste makes worm paste, as the Josmitites would say,” Snowbeak retorted with a cocky grin.
“Right, since when do you subscribe to Josmitite preaching?” Dregon asked.
Snowbeak still smirked, “Only when it is convenient, my little brother.”
They both looked around the cave, silently, listening for any disturbance.  The only notable sounds were the gentle licking of flames and the sporadic dripping of water falling into the cold pool from above.
Dregon broke the silence in a low voice, “Probably nothing.  Let’s do a ‘sky by’ then head back to the peak.”
They jumped into the damp air over the placid water when the fires suddenly gave out.  Startled, they instinctively turned and fumbled their way back the pool’s edge, temporarily blinded as their eyes adjusted to the dark.  When they finally found each other Snowbeak perched himself on a large rock.
“Curious,” Dregon stated out loud.
“So much for saving Elhom,” Snowbeak said.  His great yellow eyes then caught shifting movement on the island.
“Luxumous!” a voice yelled from the stagnant black void.  Dregon and Snowbeak instantly shielded their eyes from an intense burst of white unnatural light.  The light swallowed the surrounding darkness, lighting up the small island and craggy ice tower.  As the light dimmed slightly, they saw a figure standing above the ice controlling the enchanted light emanating from the end of her silver staff.
“Onna!” Dregon voiced in surprise.
  “Hello boys,” she said in a sultry voice.
“This is an unexpected.  We have been looking for you for days.  Where is Evaria?” Snowbeak questioned.
“She couldn’t come,” Onna shrugged her shoulders.  “She had, other plans.” 
“Everyone has been concerned about you two.  Taudfre and Marcham have been worried to no end that something terrible has happened. They’ve been searching exhaustively for days trying to find you both.  We are glad to find you here.  But where is Evaria?” Snowbeak became suspicious.
Onna walked off the ice tower towards the tip of the small island, “She decided to take…a trip…up north,” she stopped to regain her balance on the loose stone shore.  “Can you believe out of all places to visit it would be the Demon’s Throne?  She didn’t want to go at first, but I insisted.  I told her it would be a great place for a relaxing holiday, to cool her boots during these scorching mid-summer months.  Her new friends finally motivated her to sky with them, although she should have opted for first class travel arrangements, instead of caged talons” she said sarcastically.
The owls from Morgoth, Snowbeak envisioned.  He felt uneasy about this chain of events and knew it was going from bad to worse, “Onna, why are you here?” He already knew the answer.”
“Well that’s an impolite tone to ask of a friend.  I’ve come to see our silver dragon,” she replied darkly as she tapped the butt of her silver staff twice on the ground.  The cave rumbled and shook.  Small fast ripples vibrated in the pool.  The light from the staff changed from white to an eerie red.  The once dark cave now resembled the inner glow of a crimson ruby.  Onna looked ominously powerful and forbidding as her silver-white hair and silver leaf patterned green cloak reflected the ghostly light.
“What’s happening Snowbeak?” whispered the awestruck Dregon.
Snowbeak whispered back, “I think we’re in trouble, get ready to sky.  He directed his attention back to Onna, “Onna, come over here and you can see the silver dragon,” he said bluffing.
         “Oh, not that one my sensible feathered friend.  This one,” she methodically turned and pointed her staff towards the tower of ice.”
         “WAIT!” Snowbeak yelled, as he desperately took flight to stop her.
         “Elido Glacies!” Onna’s staff shot forth a powerful red sonic wave that hit the tower, shattering the black and silver ice into exploding fragments of crystal shards that hurled helplessly into the churning water.  The cave rumbled furiously as a monstrous roar and a geyser of shooting flame enveloped the ceiling above where the tower stood only seconds ago.  Throughout the pool pockets of fire burst through the surface.  The entire cavern was a fiery inferno.  A mammoth silver dragon stood in the center of the chaos, slowly lowering his fuming nostrils from the scorched black ceiling.  He stared down Dregon from across the pool as Snowbeak landed on the adjacent shoreline. 

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