Part CXXII: Parting Ways

Date: Kapton 24th, 114 A.U.

“This is Tzjearjlan of the Sla’ad calling, over…  Yes; we are doing well.  Progress made? Over…  Excellent.  We are calling to report that we have finished assembling the plans of the Mothership.  Over…  Yes, we have compiled them on our computer system into one coherent model.  We await instructions of how to relay it to you, over…  Sending it to this alternate group, but what of the elves tracking our transmissions?  Over…  I see.  Sounds like a plan.  We will send it to them.  Over…”



“The Sla’ad have finished compiling the plans of the Mothership,” Reynyagn said.  “I’ve worked it out with them and they’ll be sending it to our rebel base.  Since the rebel base is able to partially-track the Mothership’s signals, they should be able to receive the plans electronically without them being alerted.”

“Excellent,” Monty replied.  “But…”

“But what?”

“What will that do for us?”

“I talked with Tzjearjlan further on this issue,” Reynyagn replied.  “According to him, they’ve discovered the source and final engine of the entire Mothership.  And apparently all that’s needed to disable the Mothership is to take down that central computer that they’ve found which controls the whole system.”

“I see…” Monty said, pursing his lips.   “So…”

“The Mothership is on course toward the isle of the auggers,” Augger replied.  “And while my ancestors haven’t dwelt there, after what Ranvier has said, we must try and stop the Mothership from desolating their land and destroying the remnant of my race.  In addition to all this, we’ll have to take down the Mothership at some point.  And what we can’t allow either is for us to arrive at the island only to be trapped there by the Mothership.”

“So what are you saying?” Monty asked.

“I’m saying that we ought to split our team in half,” Augger said simply.  “Half of us will confront Jaigran and the other half will seek to sabotage the Mothership in a esponiage mission, assuming that it is possible for such a mission to destroy the central computer.”

  A hush fell over the group before anyone spoke.  “I will stay out of this internal discussion,” Ranvier said.

“It…  It is possible, from what Tzjearjlan said, for a small esponiage group to take it down,” Reynyagn said slowly.  “But…  but to split the team over that?  I believe that confronting Jaigran is more important.”

“We don’t need a whole team to confront Jaigran; do we?” Zarien asked.  “I sincerely doubt that I with my injured leg will do much against him with four golden weapons at his hand.  Beside, isn’t this the solution to last night’s discussion?  He is expecting us to go after him.  He will be completely unprepared for an attack on the Mothership at this time.”

“An unprepared Mothership is still dangerous,” Number 994 responded.  “I was a part of it, Zarien.  We were never “prepared” or ready for an attack.  But we were still vigilant and training enough to disable any force that came against us.  The Mothership is never unprepared.”

“But we have insider knowledge,” Zarien pointed out.  “We have you, who not only know the system, but can manipulate it.  I’ve been in the Mothership most of my life and know a good bit about how to sneak around it without anyone else knowing.  And we have a professional spy here as well—doesn’t this sort of stuff appeal to you, Monty?”

“Well…” Monty said, trying to keep himself from smiling, “It…  It does appeal to me, I must admit…  We still don’t have enough information, though.”

“Right.  We’ll need the plans first,” Zarien said.

“I don’t like the notion of you in the middle of the Mothership,” Astrid said quietly.  “That Mothership has razed cities and destroyed air fleets!  It has a system that routed out Zarien’s rebel group and made him to lose his leg!  And you think that a small group of you can go against it?”

“It’s not about safety,” Monty said.  “We’ve all thrown aside concerns for safety at the point, Astrid.  It’s…  It’s about doing what needs to be done.  And honestly, I think Augger’s right.  Yes, the Mothership may always be prepared.  But they aren’t expecting any assault from us like they might be after this.  And the fate of the race of the auggers is at stake.”

“We can’t go in without a plan…” Reynyagn murmured.  “A bit more time to plan all of this out would do us well.”

“But we don’t have time,” Ranvier said.  “I know I said I wouldn’t get involved in this discussion, but I need to say this.  I don’t know what Jaigran and the Watcher have in mind, but I know this much.  We don’t have much time and our opponent’s are enjoying a large advantage.  We can push it back for a while, but when will we ever be ready?  We currently have an elven rebel group behind us that can detect their airwaves—how long will that remain?  They aren’t expecting an attack from us and are threatening a genocide of my race once they discover us.”

“We can work with a split,” Number 994 said quietly.  “I had…  I had been against it…  But Ranvier’s right.  We can’t wait.  Assuming that Jaigran will be taking a smaller, faster ship to the island to get there first, there will only be him along with a couple of bodyguards.  Too many of us might get in the way.  And, other than Unyihi Garum, the main leaders of the elves will be gone.  We must take this opportunity or reap the costs of the genocide.”

“Then I suppose we have no choice,” Reynyagn relented.  “We will again split the Xavier Team in one last chance to stop the Emperor or die trying.  We must move forward—and quickly.”

 
Time for Ranvier to come back into focus...

Part CXXI: Unveiling

Date: Kapton 23rd, 114 A.U.

“The days of the goblins have been numbered.”  Jaigran walked down the hall as he followed the Watcher.  “The Mothership has completely decimated their chief city and thanks to you we now have the golden weapon of the goblins.

“Four now are in our position,” the Watcher replied.  “Two belong to the Xavier Team and the third is ready for us to grasp whenever we need it.”

“Shall we put the final step of our plan in motion?” Jaigran asked, turning around as he faced the Watcher.  “There will be no use tracking down the Xavier Team.”

“No,” the Watcher agreed.  “We will let them come to us.  And then we will spring our trap.”

“Good,” Jaigran said, solemnly nodding.  “Everything is as it should be then.  Order the guards to reveal all to Ranvier, our augger friend.  And then stage his escape in a way that causes him to reach the Xavier Team.  Victory is at our grasp.”



“Jaine was only able to explain that the Watcher was the Mothertree,” Flek said.  “And that the Watcher didn’t have an actual body.  He was trying to say something else, but he died first.”

“I see…” Reynyagn said.

“It’s a tragedy,” Lord Freglak replied bitterly.  “If not for him…  If not for him, we might have won this war…”

“The Emperor is a deceitful elf,” Zarien replied.  “And this Watcher—whoever he is—is a master of deception.  He nearly took over Flek’s mind.  Apparently he was the Mothertree as well.  I don’t know who or what he is, but he’s a force to be reckoned with and he’s the reason you lost this battle.”

“Our country is ruined,” Freglak said, shaking his head.  “Our forces are completely scattered, our capital city has been razed to the ground, and I have in essence lost my crown.  We have been entirely desolated.”

  “We cannot give up hope,” Flek said quietly.  “Mayhaps you may yet be able to rebuild your country and continue to work against Jaigran once we’ve put you in touch with the other elven rebels.”

“Aye; it is my only hope…” Freglak whispered.

“But for us—we need a plan,” Number 994 said, standing up.  “The Emperor has four golden weapons now.  Only the golden weapon of the auggers remains unclaimed.  What is our plan for finding it?”

“To find where the auggers have hid themselves…” Augger murmured.  “A near –impossible task without the radar control of the skies that the elves have.”

“So basically we’re going to hack into the Mothership,” Monty said.  “Your tribe of Sla’ad nearly had the plans finished, right, Reynyagn?  We just need to get those plans, organize with the elven rebel group, and break into the Mothership.”

“Well isn’t that a near-impossibility,” Astrid murmured.  “And all of that just to find the auggers—but wouldn’t Jaigran have found them first if it was that simple?”

            “I…  I don’t think so,” a new voice said, and they turned to see an augger emerge from the bushes. 

“Wha…” Augger began.  “Who-”

“I am Ranvier, ambassador of the auggers,” Ranvier said solemnly.  “And I think Emperor Jaigran wanted me to meet you.”



“So… let me get this straight,” Monty said.  “You were captured by them—they faked an escape—and then you thought you met one of us rebels and told them everything?”

“Yes.”

“And now…?”

“Afterwards, I realized that they had tricked me,” Ranvier replied.  “And I’ve begun to piece together their plan in bits and pieces.  They need the golden weapons to unleash the Watcher.”

“Unleash him?”

“I don’t completely understand it,” Ranvier admitted.  “But the Watcher doesn’t have a body.  But if he gains one, from what I overheard, he will gain extreme power.  And to unleash the Watcher, they need five of the seven golden corsha weapons.”

A chill ran through Flek’s spine.  “And they—they-”

“They have four of them now,” Ranvier said.  “And thanks to the information they have from me, they now know where the last one is.”

A cold silence fell upon the group as they realized what exactly what was happening.  Finally, someone spoke.

“How did you escape?” Augger asked.

“They tried to repeat the past,” Ranvier said.  “Stage another escape, but an augger can’t be fooled twice.  It was a set-up.”

“A set-up so that they can find us,” Monty whispered, instantly standing up.

“They’re nowhere nearby,” Lord Freglak muttered.  “I have a radar device right here.  We’re fine.”

“Then…  then why…?” Monty began.

“They want us to know their plan,” Reynyagn said quietly.  “Right?  Why else would they have told Ranvier?  They want us to know exactly what they’re doing.  Or what they want us to think that they’re doing.”

“So what do we do?” Flek asked.  “Do we walk right into their trap?”

“You need to go east,” Ranvier replied.  “I need to take you to the island of the auggers—to the Noon Stone—and to the third golden weapon.  We need to beat him to it.”

“He’s still playing with the strings…” Reynyagn said.  “I know that he’s expecting us to try to get the 3rd Golden Weapon.  But we have no choice.  Even if he’s lying about needing five weapons to unleash the Watcher’s power, we still need to get that golden weapon before he can.”

“So we have to walk into his plan,” Monty muttered.

“Not unless we get there first,” Ranvier said, raising an eyebrow.  “After all, would Jaigran have really done all of this if he expected us to beat him?  They might have a good guess as to where my homeland is.  But I know how to get there.  And Jaigran will not be ready for the weapons that we have to launch on them.”

“Like that would make a difference against the Mothership,” Monty pointed out.

“Either way, I believe it’s settled, is it not?” Reynyagn asked.  “None of us like this situation, but our course of action seems obvious.  The Mothership isn’t the fastest ship—we still have some working ships here that will be able to beat it.  And since we know where the last Golden Weapon is, even if Jaigran seemingly wants us to pursue it, we have no other choice.  The Golden Weapons are what is needed to save Arquenia.  And so it is there that we must go.”

 
Part CXX: End of the Line

Date: Kapton 21st, 114 A.U.

“It’s nice to see you again after fifty years,” the dwarf Nezore replied, leaning back on his chair.  “I’ve heard many conflicting reports of you as of late.  But I didn’t expect you to show up in my closet.”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised,” Astrid complained.  “It’s not like we haven’t done this sort of thing before.”

“No,” Nezore said as he opened a can of beer.  “But that was back when I was young—back when I could still fight.”  He pursed his lips before taking a swig.  “Go ahead and sit down.  I suppose you didn’t just come here to catch up on old times?”

“Why not?” Astrid asked with a shrug of her shoulders as she sat down, her grey hair brushing against her shoulders.  “It’s not like we didn’t have our share of adventures as part of the old Xavier Team.”

“Yeah, before you called our team illegitimate with your new team,” Nexore said as he raised an eyebrow.

“We had already agreed that our Xavier Team wasn’t the right one…” Astrid murmured.  “Had we not?”

“Some people did…” Nezore said and he sighed, tapping his beer can.  “But let’s be honest now.  You didn’t come to talk about our previous accomplishments.”

“No?”

“Oh, come on, Astrid—I know better than that,” Nezore said, smirking.  “You don’t think I’ve just happened to miss all the newspapers proclaiming your betrayal of the cause and your theft of the communicator from Governor Iraina?”

“The headlines aren’t that broad,” Astrid said, rolling her eyes.

            “No; but I’ve kept myself aware of everything you’ve done,” Nezore said.  “I’m not oblivious to what you did.”

“I wasn’t aware that you kept tabs on me…” Astrid murmured.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Nezore asked pointedly.  “We had been a team, right?”

“Yes…” Astrid murmured.  “But after the Upheaval-”

            “You were the one that gave up on us,” Nezore said in a low voice.  “And it wasn’t just the Upheaval.  Ever since you pursued the government track to become a member of the Council.  Jaigran wasn’t the only one to feel left out.”

            Astrid averted his gaze, pursing her lips.  “Fine,” she said quietly.  “So what’s your point?”

“I assume the allegations are true?”

“That I took the communicator?  Yes…  They’re true.”

“Because you allegedly don’t trust Iraina to lead the Xavier Team?”

“He’d lead them to commit suicide,” Astrid retorted.  “I couldn’t risk it.”

“I see.”  Nezore paused.  “You really believe that?”

Astrid looked at him strangely.  “Of—of course I believe that.  Why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m sure Jaigran has a noble goal as well,” Nezore mused as he tapped his beer can.

Astrid’s eyes flashed.  “Are you comparing me to Jaigran?”

“No—no,” Nezore said, looking up.  “Forgive me for suggesting that.  But you and I both know that Jaigran wasn’t who he is now.  He used to have a heart before he threw his life away.  And my point is that we often deceive ourselves to our true intentions.”

“And what do you think my true intention is.”

“You’ve been in places of power for over a century,” Nezore replied.  “First as part of the Triumvirate, and then as Governor of Araelia.  Don’t get me wrong—I don’t necessarily have any problems with your governing.  For the most part, I completely agree with all of your decisions as Governor of Araelia.  But you have also become accustomed to power, Astrid.  I might even go so far as to say that you have a drive for power.”

“Bu-”

“Let me finish,” Nezore said, standing up as he put down his beer cup, getting up on a stool to make up for his shortness that came with being a dwarf.  “After the completion of the Xavier Team, all you’ve done is to pursue power.  When some of the rest of us were trying to deal with Jaigran and the Council that had decreed that horrible Massacre of the Sla’ad, you chose to change it by becoming part of the Council.  When tensions between you and Jaigran were the fiercest for the third seat on the Triumvirate, you did everything you could to stop him.  Don’t get me wrong—Jaigran had become a very amoral vengeful elf—but that wasn’t the sole reason for your actions.  You took the power and you made sure to use it.  And because of that sate for power, you helped to alienate him.  And we all know what Jaigran’s alienation caused.”

“I am not to be blamed for the Great Upheaval,” Astrid seethed.

“Of course not,” Nezore replied.  “But you affected it.  And it hasn’t been different since the Upheaval.  You rightly preserved Araelia and took governorship.  But then you kept it.  You held your love and desire for power above anything else—including establishing a communication with me.  That is why you stopped communicating with me—isn’t it?  Because you were accused of being the friend of the dwarves rather than of your own kind in your third election?”  Astrid didn’t reply.  “And now of course we get to your new Xavier Team!  You did the right thing but completely politicized what was necessary to be done!  Tell me, Astrid.  Tell me that wasn’t a political ploy!”

Astrid averted his gaze as she pursed her lips.  “I…” she said.  “I only…  I needed to do what was right.”

“But you were unwilling to relinquish your power,” Nezore replied softly, but still firmly.  “You did many things right, Astrid, but you knew it.  Pride has become your downfall.  Your pride and lust for power.  And that’s why you are now a refugee of the government.”

            Astrid closed her eyes.  “I…” she said, her voice breaking as her grey hair covered her face.  “I…  I should have talked more with you, Nezore.”

“You should have.”

“You always knew what to do, especially on the Xavier Team where you were the leader…” she whispered.  “I…  I don’t know why I stopped communicating with you-”

“-Yes you do.”

“-but I shouldn’t have,” Astrid finished.  “I…  I shouldn’t have done that.  And now…  I’m in a mess.”

“That you are,” Nezore replied, and he looked up at her.  “So what are you going to do?”

“What am I going to do?”

“Yes,” Nezore said, staring at her in the eyes.  “You can’t hide forever, Astrid.  You need to make your decision.”



Oldin picked up the newspaper on his way into work.  He didn’t have much time to read with the heat of the investigation.  But as the head of the FRI he still had to stay on top of the news.  He glanced at the headline, and then stared. 

“Ex-Governor Astrid Turns Herself into the Authorities.”  Oldin pursed his lips, pondering this for a moment—trying to figure out why exactly she would have chosen to do this.  He would have to ask Iraina the next time they met.  Or even better try to get a chance to visit Astrid when the investigation wasn’t so hectic, although she’d probably be in prison.

Oldin placed the newspaper on his desk.  He would need to read the full story later.

 
Part CXVIII: Storming the Castle

Date: Kapton 22nd, 114 A.U.

“New operatives from the Emperor.  The Mothership is here.”

“The what?” the lieutenant asked, turning on a heel.  “The Mothership is here?”

“Aye,” the commander replied.  “Apparently, during their newest upgrade, they gave it the cloaking devices that the pesky goblins used to avoid radar.”

The lieutenant blanched.  “So…  that means—the Emperor-”

“He’s here,” the commander replied.  “And he’s given us a new directive.  He’s decided it’s high time that we stop skirting their capital city while Jaine and Freglak destroy each other.”  The commander laid a finger on the map.  “We’re going in.”



A ring of barbed wire encircled the Mother Tree in front of the dirt wall of defenses, poison-coated crossbows set up behind it.  A ditch lay between the two, spiked stakes sticking up between it.  Above, there were enough hidden bowmen in the trees to take out the planes, wielding their custom-made explosive-tipped arrows.

“One would think with their refusal to use guns, we’d have an easy time at them,” Monty grumbled as he espied out their position. 

“You would hope,” Lord Freglak growled.  He had finally left the security of his palace.  The palace had been mostly destroyed by the Elder Dragon, and every extra goblin was needed for this final assault on Jaigran’s position.

“We can break in,” Reynyagn murmured.

“Aye,” Monty replied.  “We’ll use the few grenades that we have to make a gap in their defenses.  Zarien and you four goblin gunners—you’re going to get up into this tree and provide the cover that we’ll need.”

“I’ll use my Arglem, and Number 994 can use his lightning to stop their arrows,” Reynyagn replied.  “The rest of us will then charge in and take out their defenses as soon as possible.”

“Our greatest threat will be from above, though,” Flek pointed out.  “Although the bombs destroyed most all of their foliage, there are still far too many nooks and crannies in the Mothertree.  We’re not going to be able to get them out as easily.”

“That’s what our few fighter planes are for,” Lord Freglak reminded him.  “Once we begin our attack, I’ll alert them and they’ll provide an ample enough defense and destruction to let us through.”

“And then where exactly do we find Jaine?” Monty asked.

  Lord Freglak pointed to a smaller tree next to the Mothertree.  “There, in the Tree of the Offspring,” he replied.  “That was the priests’ old headquarters, in the tree they claimed was the offspring of the Mothertree.  That’s also where we believe Jaine set up his war headquarters.”

“No time to wait, then,” Reynyagn said.  “They might not know yet that the Elder Dragon and the goblin assassins are dead.  We need to act now, when they’re not expecting a counter-assault.”

“Let’s go, then,” Flek said.  And he threw the grenade.



Explosions rattled the priests’ defenses as wire curled, snapping back, dirt defenses blown apart as the defenders braced themselves as the smoke rose, laying their hands on their weapons as they pointed their crossbows into their smoke, waiting for the attack.

The attack came.  There was a clap of thunder, and lightning electrified two of the goblins on the crossbows, causing them to clutch their hearts in pain.  Gun shots rang, and a few more were killed as a burning light rose from the smoke, preceding a shadowy body who snapped the streak of light around, killing the hapless goblins nearby.

Shots began to ring out from the snipers above even as the roar of the aircraft became apparent.  The battle had begun.

           

Flek’s blood ran cold as two goblin warriors made for him.  Although he could have easily defeated them before, without his powers he knew that he was much more vulnerable.  But he still had something that they didn’t have.  And that was presence.

Feeling the adrenaline of battle building up inside of him, Flek moved forward, raising his eyebrows as he twirled his arjla corsha blades.  “So,” he belted out as shots rang out around them.  “You would challenge the great goblin warrior!”

The two goblins paused as they looked at him, and then a look of shock played across the face of one of them.  “Wait!” he suddenly cried.  “You—you’re-”

“Flek,” he replied, still advancing toward them.  “And I’ve returned to stop the likes of you from destroying our country.”  And ignoring his gut reaction, Flek leapt forward, raising his blades in a battle cry.

One of the goblins instantly gave a cry of fear, springing out of the way as the other only half-heartedly raised his weapon in defense.  The goblin blocked once against his attack, but then, freezing up, became too easy of a target as Flek lopped off his head, spinning around to see the other goblin fleeing in terror.  Regardless of his lack of power, he still had his reputation.  And Flek moved to stand beside Jroldin.



Number 994 shot down the goblin fleeing from Flek before moving for cover, looking up as he saw the battle raging above between the hidden snipers and Lord Freglak’s aircraft.  It wasn’t clear yet who the winner was, especially as Number 994 had no idea how many snipers were hidden in the tree.  Just then, Reynyagn came up to him.

“Most of the immediate defenses have been routed,” Reynyagn said, trying to catch his breath.  “We can’t fight a pitched battle.  We have to go find Jaine.”

“Right,” Number 994 agreed, pointing.  “That tree there?”

“Aye,” Reynyagn said.  “Let’s go.”



It began as a small object in the distance, slowly getting closer and closer as its size became apparent.  The noise of the engines began to grow as its white shape flew over the trees.  Monty shot down another goblin as he quickly moved closer to the tree, now nearly on top of it.  No good going in the front door, which was sure to be guarded.  Instead, he’d climb up to the 2nd floor windows.  He had just clambered up on the ledge, when, looking back, he saw the object and suddenly realized what it was.  The object that had haunted him in his dreams—the object which he had seen so many times at the Remembrance Ceremony.

The object which was now coming to wrack devastation upon the battle.

The Mothership.

 
Part CXVII: The Flight of the Elder Dragon

Date: Kapton 22nd, 114 A.U.

That is the Elder Dragon,” Freglak said.  Reynyagn stepped forward as he saw the dragon cycling through the sky—the long green body that swooped behind it—the flaring long ears that cycled behind it—the scales that rippled in the sun as it now turned—and the glaring red eyes of destruction and revenge.

“To think that you could have thought to tame such a menace…” Reynyagn whispered.  “You can never tame a dragon.  Not forever.”  The dragon turned, blasting fire as he came down to make his second lunge at the palace.

“We don’t have much time!” Monty exclaimed.  “We have to stop him!”

“Then stop him we will,” Reynyagn said, leaping forward as he dashed across the room toward the broken windows, uncoiling the Arglem as the dragon flew toward him.  The two met at the windows, the dragon blasting through the shattered glass as Reynyagn swerved to the slide, swinging the Arglem as he was met by a blast of heat.

“Move!” Zarien yelled, leaping to the side as he drew his gun.  Number 994 sent a barrage of lighting at the dragon whose tail swept through the room even as Flek, though well-aware of his lost abilities, drew his arjla corsha blades as he leapt for the receding tail of the Elder Dragon.  Catching up just in time, Flek grabbed onto a spike as the Elder Dragon took off, smashing some of the supports in the room as it cycled back up into the heavens, Flek and Reynyagn still clinging onto it.

“Your day ends now!” Reynyagn roared from up ahead on the Elder Dragon, whipping the Elder Dragon with the Arglem.  The corsha burnt, but failed to penetrate, the dragon’s scales.  The Elder Dragon gave a roar, tossing and turning as Flek struggled to hold on, as it dueled with Reynyagn up ahead.  Slowly, his blades now sheathed, Flek struggled to climb up the dragon’s scales even as it began to descend for another attack on the palace.



The ceiling cracked and cracks rang out through the walls as Zarien dashed out of the room, the ceiling falling through behind them as they quickly made their exit, fires leaping up behind them, the last gifts of the Elder Dragon.  The palace was collapsing around them as they quickly made through the corridors.

“To the left!” Lord Freglak yelled.  “The barracks is that way!  We need to organize the troops for combat!”

“I can work to repair any broken airships you might have!” Number 994 yelled.  “If they have circuiting problems, that is!  We need to get as many as possible up there to deal with the Elder Dragon!”

“Where’s Flek?” Astrid suddenly asked, noticing his disappearance.

“He grabbed onto the Elder Dragon as it left!” Zarien said.  “Just keep moving!  He’ll be able to fend for himself!”



Reynyagn gritted his teeth as the waves of fire blasted through him.  Although immune to most fire, the fire of the Elder Dragon was searing-hot, reaching the intensity of the corsha blades, thus making him susceptible to their pain.  It took a blade of extreme heat to kill a Sla’ad neglecting old age.  But the fire of the Elder Dragon could be enough.

Moving to the side as he gripped the long ear of the Elder Dragon to hold on, Reynyagn whipped the Elder Dragon across the face as it gave a roar, diving low to the ground, as Reynyagn moved to the side, glancing back to see Flek behind him, struggling to climb up to meet him.  Too late, as the Elder Dragon rolled, Reynyagn realized its intentions.

Reynyagn hit ground, body colliding with the ground as he was ripped off his hold, slamming into the dirt as the Elder Dragon flew back up in victory, having successfully toppled its first attacker.  Reynyagn tasted dirt as he stood up to watch it fly back up into the sky.


The druid commander moved quickly with his men through the decomposing palace, holding their bows with their quiver of corsha arrows swung around their back, each of the arrow-heads dipped in poison.  Their spy had placed a tracking device on Lord Freglak so that they could track him to the corridors.  And they were closing in on him.



The wind rushed by his face as Flek flung himself forward, grasping the next spike as the Elder Dragon Roared, scorching a hapless goblin clinging to one of the trees.  He had to stop this menace.  But even when he had the Watcher dwelling within him, Flek hadn’t thought that he would have been able to stop this thing.  Much less without his power.

He was now behind where the tips of its long ears ended.  Flek looked up as the Elder Dragon began another descent to destroy the palace.  He had to stop this thing.  Moving forward, he waited as the Elder Dragon neared the palace.  And then, releasing his grip on the dragon’s spike, he grabbed the ends of the ears with both ends and pulled—hard.

The Elder Dragon had not been expecting that.  Flek was jolted back as the Elder Dragon was suddenly forced upwards, cracking its head on a battlement, causing it to screech in pain.  Thinking on the fly, Flek moved his hands toward the right as hard as he could, causing the Elder Dragon to again smash into the palace, breaking through the glass into a hallway, now partially stunned by the sudden collisions.

Flek blinked as he shook his head, gaining focus just in time to see the Xavier Team skidding to a stop before him, before he suddenly realized the huge mistake he made.  The Elder Dragon opened its mouth, ready to roast all of its victims with its breath of flame.  Lord Freglak and the rest of the team threw themselves to the ground and to the side as, at the other end of the short hall, Flek noticed a group of goblin druids leaping out, shooting corsha arrows from their bows.

The ball of fire emitted from the Elder Dragon’s mouth missed its targets as it flew across them toward the goblin druid archers who had obviously not been expecting that.  The arrows passed through the flames.  And moments after the goblin archers were engulfed in flames, a volley of poisoned corsha arrows struck the Elder Dragon, one zipping into its nostrils while another pierced its eyes.

The Elder Dragon roared, slamming its head across the ceiling, causing plaster to rain down from it, as Flek leapt off, drawing his arjla corsha blades to finish the job.  But the deed was already done.  The Elder Dragon shook, its eyes glaring vehemently in its death throes, as it wrenched itself out of the hall, taking one last faltering flap with its wings, before its eyes rolled back and fell from the skies.

The Elder Dragon was dead.

 
Part CXVI: Realm in Chaos

Date: Kapton 22nd, 114 A.U.

The voyager ship of the Xavier Team descended to meet a city ravaged by war.

Lingering smoke still rose from the broken bombed-out buildings and trees in the city, flames still flickering within their hollows.  Dead bodies lay on the ground, corpses mutilated and stripped as they lay silent on the ground.  Bare trees encircled the palace which still stood, though slowly breaking down.  And at the other side of the city, a large black circle encircled the Mothertree which still stood, although worse for the wear. 

Reynyagn gravely surveyed the situation.  “The elves must have broken through quite recently,” he said.  “Keep your eyes peeled—they may still be around.  The palace seems like it’s still standing—we must make there quickly.”

Flek said nothing as he stood, silently surveying the city broken and battered down, slowly lowering his head in sadness.  He paused as the others began to move toward the palace.  And then, slowly, still shaken, he went on.


“Hail Lord Freglak.”  Freglak looked up, face still stricken, as his expression was eclipsed with a sudden shock and astonishment as his mouth dropped to see Reynyagn enter into the room, followed by Flek and a group of other beings, members of each of the races, along with some reptilian being that he didn’t recognize.

“Yo—you,” Lord Freglak stammered as his knees gave way, causing him to sit down.  “You…  You’re here.”

“We’re here,” Flek said softly, sensing the passion behind Freglak’s voice.  “And I…” His voice broke.  “I’ve seen the city,” he said, trying to keep back his pressing emotions.  “The city…  Those elves…  they-”

“It’s not the blasted elves that did this,” Freglak said, cursing, as he shook his head in vengeance.  “The wretched Jaine and his cohort of priests have waged this war against ourselves as the elves wait in the wings.  We’re ruined, Flek…  Our cause is lost…  Unless-”  He looked up to meet Flek’s gaze.  “Except that you’ve come now.  Why…  Why are you here?  Are the elves-”

“I fear that we are not here to bring much good tidings,” Reynyagn replied.  “Although, to confirm what you may have suspected, it is indeed the Xavier Team that stands before you.  We’ve come in search of the Golden Corsha Weapon of the Goblins, believing it to be crucial to resist the Emperor.  We have since seen the city, though, and…” Reynyagn paused.  “I cannot leave this city without doing something to help.”

“I know nothing of such a weapon,” Lord Freglak said, shaking his head.  “Likely Jaine, with his wealth of knowledge about the customs of the past, knows what you speak of, but he and I are sworn enemies as of now.  Your only chance to find it would be to break past his defenses and either find it among his stash or wrest any possible information from him.”  He looked up and there was a glimmer in his eyes.  “To break past his defenses…” he repeated.

“What are these defenses like?” Monty asked, stepping forward.  “As a means of introduction, my name is Monty, a former spy for Governor Astrid in Araelia.  I’m not part of the Xavier Team, but I know much about getting past defenses.  What is the situation like?”

“You…  You’d better sit down,” Lord Freglak said slowly.  “I will explain to you the current situation, but…  Much backstory is needed.  And I believe that will mean explaining to you the whole background of the war so that you might better understand our straits.  And the dismal situation that we now find ourselves in.”



“Your squadron goes out to battle in two hours,” High-Priest Jaine, Prophet of the Mothertree, commanded.  “Your mission is to be of absolute stealth—to assassinate Lord Freglak while the Elder Dragon provides his distraction atop the fortress.  Freglak will find himself flanked by the two sides, and he cannot escape both of them.  This battle will end today.”

“Yes, sir,” the commander replied.  “My men will undertake the mission to assassinate the Lord-Protector.  Have you discovered any information yet about the ship that landed today?”

“Whoever came out of the ship that landed outside Freglak’s palace is likely of no importance to us,” Jaine replied.  “The Mother-Tree will tell me if they are.  They are likely some remaining commanders in Freglak’s army that are returning in his desperate attempt to save himself as he realizes that his end is approaching.  Pay no heed to them.  Freglak will meet his end today.”



“So, in other words, basically all our routes of salvation have been exhausted.”

“Aye,” Freglak said, slumped back against his chair.  “It’s over.  There is no more lingering doubt in the minds of the public as to the power of the Mothertree.  It survived my entire barrage of bombs.  The Elder-Dragon has turned against us for the last time, we can’t breach his defenses, and Major Erklen has deserted.  Before you showed up, we were merely awaiting the final strike.”

“No escape routes?” Flek asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Bah, the elves have all but surrounded the city,” Freglak spat.  “Although they are trying to fool me otherwise, their prancing around minor targets are merely a façade.  They’re waiting for us to destroy ourselves and then they’ll crush us.  They are still a day’s journey away from the city, but they have this city all but in our hands.  There is no escape.”

“Yes, we narrowly slipped past the elven defenses to get here,” Reynyagn replied.  “The choices are laid out on the table.  What is your choice?”

“Excuse me?”

“Will you sit here and wait for them to deal the killing strike?” Reynyagn asked.  “Or shall we let loose one last assault on the enemy, where the Xavier Team will lead your forces to battle in one last effort to break past the priests’ defenses and wrest the information about the Golden Corsha Weapon out of Jaine?”

A gleam sprung up in Freglak’s eyes.  “My military is all but abandoned me to the enemy or waits here in fear,” he replied.  “The gas for our machines is all but one else.  Our defenses are but a broken piece of wood, and our food is running out.  But we will fight.”  He stood up, clenching his sword pommel in his fist.  “Take full control of my army, Reynyagn of the Xavier Team.  Command them however you see fit, and I will do all that I can to aid you.  We will let loose one final assault upon the priest’s defenses and exploit all their weaknesses that we can.  Or I will die doing so.”

There was a roar behind them, and red flames splashed across the windows in the room before a green spiked tail smashed against them, flinging glass everywhere.

“And so the final battle begins,” Number 994 replied.  And lightning crackled across his fingertips.