Part CXXVII: Launch Date

Date: Kapton 30th, 114 A.U.

Oldin moved quickly as he skidded down the tunnels, moving quickly toward the opening to get back into Araelia.  His communications were still all down, and Oldin knew that the elven terrorists were behind it.  No doubt they had sabotaged them, again maintaining their step ahead of him.  He had to get to Iraina to warn him about what was going to happen.  They had to get enough guards up to defuse the bombs that were even now waiting to rip open a clear path to the surface.

And he had to do it fast.

Moving to the door, Oldin quickly opened and slammed into it, throwing it open as he stumbled out into the wide cavern that made up the center of Araelia.  The capitol building flickered like a gem in the dimness of the cavern as Oldin looked toward the great amphitheater, where even now Iraina was planning his great speech announcing his plans for the Xavier Team.

Dashing into the street, Oldin leapt toward a man trying to get into his car.  “Official government business!” Oldin yelled, flashing his FRI badge as he drew out his gun.  “The fate of Araelia is at stake!  I need your car!”

“But-” the man interjected.

“Sorry!” Oldin yelled, flinging the man his business card as he snatched the keys out of the man’s hand.  “Come visit my office tomorrow and I’ll pay for the damages!”  Shoving the man aside, Oldin leapt into the front seat, slamming the car door shut before putting the keys in and turning it to ignition.  The car roared and Oldin slammed down on the gas pedal.  And the car roared off down the road.



“Bide your time,” the elven commander said as he glanced down at the mountain.  “Everything is nearly ready.  We just need to wait for the signal.”

“Aye, aye, commander,” the elven pilot said, only one pilot among the fifty other pilots that were here commanding their ships.  “How large of a defense force shall we plan for?”

“A meager one if anything,” the commander replied.  “Operation C-Watch has done its work and will silence most all of the possible defenders.  Today is a day of victory where we will take the city with minimal bloodshed.  And so the promise of the Great Upheaval will again be ours as we capture the last free city of the humans.”



Oldin skidded the car to a stop in front of the back of the amphitheater, quickly checking his clock.  The ceremony began in seven minutes.   He still had time to alert Iraina before he moved out on stage.  Wrenching the door opened, Oldin moved out, running across the side walk toward the guarded door.

“Oldin—Head of the F.R.I.!” Oldin yelled as he ran toward the guards.  “Open the door!  I must speak to Iraina—now!”

“I…  yes, sir,” one of the guards said, opening it up.  Racing down the corridors, Oldin could hear the low clamor of the crowd ahead as he came into the prep room where Iraina stood, hair slicked back, shades on, ready for his speech.  Outside the door, portions of the crowd could be seen as they gathered around the platform.

“Iraina!” Oldin yelled.  “Iraina—for the Great One’s sake, you have to call the ceremony off—now!  We’re in imminent danger!”

Iraina slowly turned, taking off his shades as he did as his eyes narrowed.  “And why would that be?”  His voice was cold.

“The cursed elven terrorists have duped us!” Oldin yelled.  “They have a whole line of bombs in the outside tunnels waiting to blow up a route for them to get us!  The Launch Date is today!  You-” 

“Shut up,” Iraina snapped, his lips curling back in a sneer.  He cocked his head.  “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead wha-” Oldin began, but suddenly, two men grabbed his arms, lifting him up as another confiscated his weapons.  “What’s going on?!” Oldin roared.

“Oh—you still don’t know?” Iraina asked, his voice still cold as he began to laugh.  “You really came this far without suspicions, Oldin?”

“Suspicions about what?!” Oldin roared even as his numbed mind began to work out what was happening.  “You can’t—you wouldn’t-”

“I would of thought that you of all people would have begun to figure out why we were always a step ahead of you,” Iraina hissed.  “Of course, it never occurred to you, now did it—that the leader of Araelia was a traitor.”

“But—but—but I trusted you!” Oldin cried out as his world began to crash around him.  “You can’t—you didn’t-”

“You didn’t even investigate the election results!” Iraina cried out, laughing.  “Did it never occur to the F.R.I. that there might have been election fraud?  Did it never struck you as too remarkable that in a district that Astrid was supposed to have easily won, that the last 10% of votes all came out for me?”

“You…” Oldin said, horror-struck.  “You—you meddled with the election!”

“But of course, Jaigran’s plan wasn’t so fragile as to be stopped by democracy,” Iraina snapped.  “You really are too slow to learn for being the Head of the F.R.I.  And now it’s over.  Guards, put a C-Watch on him.  He’ll experience the announcement with everyone else.”

“Ex…experience the announcement?”

“But of course,” Iraina said, raising his eyebrows.  “Or have you not figured out yet what this era is all about?”

“No…” Oldin whispered, his voice slowly raising.  “No.  No!  You can’t do this!”

“I already have,” Iraina laughed.  “And thanks to your help in getting the communicator for the Xavier Team, I convinced them to fall into Jaigran’s plan as well, which coincidentally is worked out on this same day.  Today Araelia and the Xavier Team falls in one fell-swoop.  Thanks for your help.”

“No!” Oldin screamed as the C-Watch was put on him.  “You…  You can’t.”

“Already done,” Iraina whispered and he moved out to the podium to address the crowd.

“People of Araelia!” Iraina cried out as Oldin could only watch.  “Today marks a new day in civilization—a new day for Araelia!  Today is the day when the final victor is revealed between the people of Araelia and the elves!  And today is the day when the final victor is me!”  Iraina grabbed at his ear, and as Oldin watched, pulled off a flab of skin, causing the end of his ear to spring up.  But it was only too obvious now.  Iraina flung the fake scab of ear down as his pointed ears showed, above the gasps of the crowd.

“And now!” Iraina triumphantly proclaimed, pulling out a case from his pocket.  “Now you get to hail the true victors of Araelia!”  And with that, flipping open the case, he pushed a button.

Explosions rung out in the background as the portion of the mountain that for so-long had guarded them from the elves was destroyed, even as Oldin felt a prick hit his skin under the C-Watch, even as it all became clear.  His thinking became obscured as he glanced weakly at the C-Watch.  Of course.  All the extra gadgets—the additional electric current—as the volt of electricity ran through Oldin’s body, it became all-too obvious.  The elves had created a device that had gained mass popularity with the people.  And this device had just electrocuted all 70% of the populace that had bought these devices.  And as Oldin’s body was lulled to sleep, one last thought escaped from his mind.

They’ve won.

Part CXXVI: Closing In

Date: Kapton 27th, 114 A.U.

Number 994 surged to his feet as he helplessly watched as Zarien fell backwards toward the fire vent even as Number 502 gestured toward it, the fire ready to explode out of the vent to consume Zarien.  Number 994 had to move fast.  And surging forward, thunder rolled from Number 994’s fingertips as lightning moved faster than fire to stop the fire-orc’s plan.

As fire shot upward out of the vent, a bolt of lightning struck Zarien from the side, throwing him sideways and out of the way of the blast of fire, even as Zarien was slammed into a poll.  Ducking a ball of fire shot from Number 502, Number 994 ran forward, gripping Zarien’s hand as Zarien tried to shake his head, groggy from his shock.

“Move!” Number 994 yelled, jerking Zarien out of the way to avoid the next shot from Number 502.  “We don’t have much time!”  Stumbling in his steps, Zarien followed as Number 994 moved to position the pole between him and Number 502 as they raced toward the ladder.  There was a tremor at their feet.

There was a crash, and fire vents started exploding around them, shrapnel flying as Number 502 sent power surges into the fire vents ahead of them, blowing them apart.  Skidding to a stop, Number 994 watched as Augger safely moved through the mess, unscathed by his heat-resistant scales.

“Move forward!” Number 994 hissed to Zarien.  “I’ll distract the fire orc.”

“But-”

“Move!”

Zarien moved forward, running, as Number 994 turned around to see Number 502 moving toward them, a spark appearing at his finger-tips as he looked ready to send forth his next assault.  But this time, Number 994 was prepared.  Leaping forward, Number 994 shot out a lightning bolt, forcing Number 502 to move to the side to avoid being electrocuted.

Moving quickly, Number 994 bent down and laid his hand on the inner edge of the fire vent, knowing that he had to do this before Number 502 saw him and set the vent aflame.  Sending out a snippet of electricity, Number 994 quickly hotwired the spark plugs in the vent and immediately threw himself to the side as Number 502 sent a wave of flame at him, gripping onto the inner ring of the vent as he swung himself down into it, now dangling within the vent as he sent out his electricity through the spark plugs into the system, quickly analyzing it before shooting out commands even as he vaulted himself out of the vent.

Number 994 landed on the ground as his command went into play and the four vents around Number 502 simultaneously exploded as the wiring between them was electrocuted, creating a sudden web of electricity pulsating through the metal floor that Number 502 was standing on, even as the explosion created a wall of smoke and shrapnel.  And Number 994 knew that his work was done.

Sprinting ahead even as the other orcs remained distracted with Augger, Zarien, and Monty—now at the ladder—Number 994 dashed to the ladder while Number 502 remained blinded and stunned by Number 994’s surprise attack.  Gripping the rungs, Number 994 climbed up even while shots rang all around.

“We need to move quickly,” Monty said as they quickly ascended past the ceiling of the ground-level into the next level.  Exiting the ladder, Augger quickly shut the trap door, locking it to seal it off from any pursuers. 

“Where next?” Augger asked.

“The elevators,” Number 994 pointed.  “Get in it.  Now.”  Running to the closest of the many elevators, they waited as the elevator doors opened just as noises from the trapdoor signaled that the fire-orcs were preparing to break through.  Piling in, Number 994 quickly opened a hatch and stuck his finger in, closing his eyes as his mind searched the system, before deciding on their destination and punching it in, all the while covering up his digital tracks from any other lightning-orcs.

“All right,” Number 994 said as the doors closed.  “I sent us to a portion of the Mothership that isn’t used often.  There we can re-group and await further orders.”  The elevator rose, and then began to move sideways.  And their journey began.

Kapton 29th, 114 A.U.

“We’ve received our final instructions.”  It was nearing midnight on the 29th, two days after they had made it into the Mothership.  Since then, their initiative had been all but erased as their plans had stagnated, waiting for the elven rebel group to relay instructions and for Number 994 to receive them in a way that evaded the elves’ notice.  They had already staged two scenes involving crashing elevators and collapsing passages that made it look like they had been killed, and thus had remained undetected for the past 24 hours.

“What is it?” Monty asked, itching to get back to work.

“They finally came up with the easiest path for us to make it to the central computer system,” Number 994 replied.  “It involves us taking the elevators to as close as we can get, and then using the little explosives we have to blow into the weakest part of the defenses around it.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope that they’d leave their central computer relatively unguarded,” Zarien muttered.

“Have they sent the plans?” Monty asked.

“They said it was too large to send under the elves’ radar,” Number 994 replied.  “We have to go with blind faith and reliance on their instructions.”

“Blind faith…  suppose it’s what we have to work with,” Augger said.  “We must rely on the Great One for their victory.”

“Not the Great One—just the instructions that the elven rebels gave,” Zarien interjected.  “But no time for a theological debate now.  The rest of the Xavier Team is supposed to arrive at Quelia tomorrow.  And it’s already an hour until tomorrow begins.”

“Then no point wasting time,” Monty said.  “We must set forth, and make one final attack on the Mothership’s system.”

“Let’s go.”

And so close to the end of the series, I have to make my first ret-con. :(  Apparently I wasn't paying enough attention when I wrote Part CXXIII and originally wrote Reynyagn into the scene, forgetting that he was supposed to go to Quelia. :P  Well, that mistake's been fixed, and Reynyagn's been replaced with Augger, like I had originally plotted out six months ago.  So, without further ado, let's now move onto...

Part CXXV: One Last Voyage

Date: Kapton 24th, 114 A.U.

“But…  are you sure about this?” Ranvier pursed his lips with concern.

“You may have forgiven my ancestors for their crimes against my race, but have the others?” Augger asked.  Ranvier’s silence spoke volumes.

“It is better this way,” Augger said.  “You know enough about Quelia, the land of the auggers, to guide them there.  The Mothership team will need my help, and we cannot throw the risk of the auggers rejecting me into the picture.  Stopping Jaigran is too imperative for that.  We all must make sacrifices.  Maybe after all of this is over, if I’m still alive, I can return to Quelia and make amends for my ancestor’s crimes.”

“I hope so,” Ranvier said quietly.  “Keep yourself safe.”

“And you.”

Kapton 27th, 114 A.U.

“We have now left the mainland of Arquenia,” Reynyagn said, watching out the glass windows as the land rushed behind them.  “We’re now over the open sea.”

“And it’ll be another two days likely until we arrive in Quelia,” Ranvier replied.  “It took me four days in my transport, but your ship is much faster than ours.”

“I don’t feel ready for this,” Astrid murmured, pursing her lips as she laid her hand against the glass.  “I…  I’m not ready for this all to be over.  I’m not ready for the fight.”

“According to the prophesy, your goal is not to fight, but to heal,” Flek said.  “In contrast to me, who am supposed to be the warrior but have already lost all of my fighting skills.”

 “Peace,” Reynyagn replied.  “We already have many factors on our side.  Although Jaigran may be expecting us, he couldn’t have brought a large fighting force, and we should have the whole population of Quelia on our side.  Whatever ends up happening, we ought to have the numbers on our side.”

“I hope so…” Astrid said, closing her eyes.  “I…  I just want this all to be over…  All these deaths are haunting me.  The man I murdered in Araelia.  The elves that we’ve killed.  All the dead bodies.  Death haunts me.  I just need it all to be over…”



“Our sentries caught sight of the Xavier Team’s transport ship as it left the mainland,” Emperor Jaigran said as he entered the Watcher’s cabin.  “It seems to be a full six hours behind us.”

“Their ship is unlikely to be faster than ours,” the Watcher replied, standing up as light fluttered through his ever-more translucent body.  “We’ll make it to Quelia well ahead of them in time to launch the last phase of our plans.”

“You’re positive that we’ll have no substantial trouble with the auggers on Quelia?” Jaigran asked.

“The auggers will not be expecting our presence,” the Watcher replied.  “And they will not dare to follow where we are going.  Even if they end up confronting us on our arrival, we brought enough troops to be able to fend them off while we enter my chambers.  We’ll be landing right on top of the building where the entrance to my chambers is located, so it will all go well.”

“Yes—speaking of the troops, though, what exactly are they doing after we make our exit?”

“Whatever you want them to do,” the Watcher replied, a smirk playing across his face.  “You didn’t bring anyone you legitimately cared about—right?  Let them go harass and attack the auggers if they want.  They could stay in this ship as well, but once the auggers figured out who they were, they may be dying anyways.  All we brought them for was to make sure we had a clear path into my chambers.  Once we’re in there, they can just die for all they care.  They will be useless once my full form is unleashed.”

Kapton 29th, 114 A.U.

Catan the Silent looked up from his vantage point in the Watchtower of Quelia as he noticed the movement on the horizon.  Peering down at his radar, he quickly zoomed into see the scan of the object coming their way.  An airship—and one that appeared to be of elven origins.

Outsiders were not to be trusted.  Especially those that were of the elves.

Then again, they hadn’t had a better opportunity in a long time to finally show their strength once again to the world and justify what had once been their great name.  What better chance to exhibit the power of their kind then by making an example of this elven ship?  And Catan the Silent knew what he was going to do.

Moving quickly, Catan the Silent fiddled with levers to open up the secret door that led to his computer that controlled the missile defense system of Quelia that he had put up.  Although many other auggers had preferred to leave their defenses weak, Catan the Silent and his ancestors had slowly put up a complex and efficient defense system over the past centuries that the rest of the auggers were completely oblivious too.  Although their muteness and lack of a voice was a liability, it had also left them mostly above suspicion—an opportunity which Catan the Silent had made sure to use.

Putting on his head gear, Catan the Silent zoomed in on the upcoming airship and laid his hand on the lever.  Pulling it back, he waited as the missile turrets moved up out of the ground, preparing the long-range missiles to begin their attack on the intruder.  It ought to be a short battle—just one quick barrage that left the elven airship completely defenseless.

Catan the Silent waited as he trained the missiles on the upcoming airship, waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself.  It did.  And, with a deft nod of his head, Catan fired.

Part CXXIV: Line of Bombs

Date: Kapton 30th, 114 A.U.

Oldin walked softly through the tunnels, looking around as he tried to figure out where they had all gone. For over 10 days his agents had been looking for the tunnels, looking for any signs of the elven terrorists that were and escaped into the tunnels. Still, however, they could not find them.  And Oldin was getting worried.

Oldin paused and looked at his watch. It was 11 o'clock. In two hours, Iraina was planning on giving some important speech that he claimed would speed his new policy concerning the elves. Ever since he’d gotten the communicator from Astrid, he had been itching to use it. Oldin didn't know what Iraina planned to command Xavier team to do. But he knew that Iraina planned on explaining all of that in his speech. And so, Oldin hoped that he would be able to give his investigation done in time, so that should be able to listen to the speech.

Oldin paused as he heard static coming in on his walkie-talkie. Picking it up, he held up his year as he heard the voice coming in.

"Oldin?" It was one of his agents.  “Oldin, this is Agent 54 coming in. Do you read me?"

"This is Oldin," Oldin spoke into the walkie-talkie.  “What have you found?"

"I have found suspicious items near the third tunnel," Agent 54 replies.   “Some scraps of clothing and bullet. It seems like there's more here, though."

“Like what?”

“The wall of the tunnel here—it’s unnatural,” Agent 54 said.  “When you point the flash light in certain way, it’s clear that it isn’t part of the rest of the tunnel wall.”

“Stop there,” Oldin said, mind racing.  “Stay there—don’t move.  I’ll be with you in a moment.  I’m signaling in for backup now.”



“This tunnel wall is definitely different,” Oldin said, pacing as the three agents hastily began pulling out their kits.  Oldin thought for a moment.

“Stop,” he finally said.  The agents paused.  “We don’t have time to inspect it.”

“But-” Agent 54 began.

“The elven terrorists have evaded us for too long, and you know how all the information we’ve gotten recently points to an accelerated launch date of whatever their plan is!” Oldin said.  “We’re running out of time.  How thick is it?”

Agent 54 pulled out one of the instruments and placed it against the wall, tapping the wall with a metal rod to produce a note.  He looked down at the machine.  “About six inches thick,” he said.  “It’s likely a door of some sort.”

“I’ve gotten that far already,” Oldin said.  “It’s a door, and we don’t have time to figure out how they get into this place, so we’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”

“You mean-”

“We blow it up.”



The explosion rattled the premises as Oldin lay flat against the wall.  As the debris settled, Oldin moved forward, pointing his gun at the hole in the wall of the tunnel as the other three agents helped to encircle it.  Inside was dark and empty.  Oldin flicked on his flashlight and slowly moved in, scanning the premises for any enemies.  There was none.

Inside was a room containing a large computer, a table with papers strewn around it, many filing cabinets, and weapons strewn around in various places.  One of the agents instantly fired his gun, snuffing out a security camera.  The two other agents moved over to the computer.  Oldin made for the table, quickly flipping through papers.

“This place was used recently,” one of the agents said as he put his gloves on, opening a filing cabinet.  “There’s a cup of coffee on top of this cabinet that’s still slightly warm.  Dusting for fingerprints should give us a whole slew of suspects.”

“The calendar on the wall has a countdown to today,” another of the agents by the computer quickly said.  “It’s called ‘Launch Date.’”

“Then we’re already nearly too late,” Oldin snapped as he flipped through the papers.  He paused and then slowly pulled out a large sheet of graph paper.  On it was depicted a full map of the tunnel systems, along with red ‘x’s positioned in the tunnels.  Oldin’s eyes moved over to the map key, and he suddenly froze.

Oldin cursed and looked up.  “They’ve planted explosions all throughout the tunnels,” he said.  “It’s all on this map here.  The golden circles around the ‘x’s mean that they’ve already planted them.  All the ‘x’s except one are circled, meaning that most, if not already all, of their bombs are prepared for action.”

“What good will come of planting explosives?” one of the agents asked, running over.

“Look at this!” Oldin snapped, waving his hand over the paper.  “Look at their positions—their paths.  The explosives, if powerful enough, will make one huge entry from the outside into Araelia!”

“You don’t mean-”

“And today’s the launch date!” Oldin yelled.  “Look here—we’re right in the path of these explosives!  They abandoned this place because this whole thing is blowing up here.  And I’d wager my position that there’s a whole crap-load of elves out there just waiting to come in.”

“We have to warn the Resistance immediately.”

“My cell phone has no bars!” another agent yelled, cursing.  “My walkie-talkie seems broken as well!”

“They’re two steps ahead of us!” Oldin roared.  “Take the map—find the explosives and disarm them—and fast!  We have no idea when they’re going to get off, but we have to stop them from doing this!”

“And you-”

“I’m going to warn Iraina!” Oldin yelled.  “The whole ceremony today has to be called off!  We need to get our men on the defenses and alert the dwarves!  Today is the Launch Date—and the elves have set up a pathway into our city!” 

Part CXXIII: Final Preparations

Date: Kapton 24th, 114 A.U.

“The hurdle to space is at long last completed,” the Watcher said.  “The Mothership has been fully prepared.  Once the Golden Weapons are ours, I will be able to fuel the Mothership and the others to break out of Arquenia’s orbit as it goes spinning on course to the sun.  We now await the Seven Golden Weapons to arrive in place.”

“Very well,” Emperor Jaigran replied.  “Events should be moving swiftly then.  Are we ready to take our course, then?”

“I already have our quickest ship prepared,” the Watcher replied.  “It will take us directly on course to Quelia, land of the auggers, where we will establish our position and wait for the Xavier Team.  The Mothership will follow us.”

“Very well then.  Let us go.”

Kapton 27th, 114 A.U.

“Well. It looks like we’re on our own now.”  Monty, Number 994, Zarien, and Augger looked at the Mothership which was passing over them, its white body blotting out the rays of the sun. 

“Indeed,” Monty said.  “The rest of our team will do well against Jaigran.  But it’s time for us to accomplish our part of the plan.”

“Have the full plans and guidelines been given?” Zarien asked.

“Our base has given me all the intel they have been able to decipher and send,” Number 994 replied.  “For now, I have a general gist of where the central computer is and a general idea of the steps which will need to be taken to get there.  For now, we need to get into the ship.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Monty asked.  “If we go into any of the loading docks, we’ll be doomed.”

“That’s why we won’t be going into one of the loading docks,” Number 994 replied, pointing up at the plumes of fire that descended from the underbelly of the ship.  “I’ve been given full instructions.  We will go through one of the chinks in their armor there up through the holes that jet out the fire.  If you look closely, not all of them are going at once.  That’s where we’ll be making our entrance.”

“That will actually lead us into the ship?” Zarien asked skeptically.  “Why would they be designed to let people inside the ship control them?”

“Because of the fire orcs,” Number 994 pointed out.  “It takes a lot less work for a fire orc to make fire than it takes other machinery.  It’s more fuel efficient this way.  They create openings so that the fire orcs control the flames.  And it’s through those openings that we’re getting in."



Number 994 gritted his teeth as their vehicle moved up quickly, dancing away from the long plumes of fire that moved all around him as he guided the vehicle toward one of the empty holes.  Although the fire was continually changing, he had full control of the ship with his electricity abilities and was slowly getting closer and closer to the open one, just big enough to allow the small ship to move through the gigantic blow-torch.  Just a little closer…  a little closer…

Suddenly, the ship passed through, moving up into the oil-covered hole as the ship moved, on of the wings cracking as it slid against the wall.  They were in the middle of a large plain that spanned the underbelly of the Mothership.  Rows upon rows of holes covered with oil covered the face of it as red-skinned orcs stood beside, pouring out their flames into the holes which, when passing by the oil and fuel, enlarged the flame to create streaking plumes underneath it, causing the Mothership to rise.

And then the wing of the ship finally broke off.  Giving a yell, Number 994 flung open a door, leaping out with the rest of his group as the fire-orcs turned to see what exactly had come up through the holes to visit them.  Number 994 moved first.

Leaping forward, Number 994 gave a yell as lightning sparked at his fingertips.  Light flashed and a nearby orc fell over, struck, as Augger raised his corsha blade above his head.  Monty ducked for cover as a ball of flame splashed against the already-damaged ship, fire-orcs moving quickly to try to surround them even as his comrades fought them off.

“There’s too many of them!” Zarien cried.  “We’re trapped!”

“We don’t have to fight all of them,” Monty muttered, quickly scanning the premises.  Fifty yards away, a ladder led up to the surface.  “Look!” Monty yelled, pointing.  “Get up there and leave the rest of them behind!  We can’t fight them off.”

“Then let’s move,” Number 994 said, shooting down a Number 1542 with a bolt of lightning.  Reynyagn moved toward the ladder, turning to the side to avoid a line of fire before moving more quickly toward the ladder.  Although somewhat-resistant to heat, Augger didn't know how hot the flames of the orcs were.  And he didn't want to find out.

“Stop!” one of the fire orcs roared.  Number 994 looked ahead as he noticed the fire orc moving to intercept them.  Battle training began to break in as Number 994’s mind became absorbed with statistics.  A Number 502—a high ranking fire orc and likely one of the commanders of this group of fire orcs that fueled the Mothership.  With such a high rating, Number 994 knew the truth—he would have no chance to beat this orc in a duel alone.  But even with the rest of the Xavier Team…

Number 502 moved forward, calling up flames as suddenly fires leapt up from the crevices around them, forming arches of fire around the Xavier Team as they ran past the holes which led down to the world beneath.  And just as Number 994 opened his mouth to give a warning, the fires moved, breaking the arches as they came down upon them to rain their heat upon them.  Throwing himself to the ground, Number 994 watched as fire arced around Zarien, Zarien covering his face as he stumbled back.  Too late, Number 994 saw Zarien trip backwards.  And, covering his face, Zarien fell backwards toward the cavity behind him, even as Number 502 lowered his hand to point at the crevice.  And a spark raced around its edge.  The flame was coming next.

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.