The four and the dragon whelp journeyed with trepidation past the Vaustian woods to the edge of the trail. In fact, the trail that led to the Silver City went around the Ladimore mountains, but the King’s Road would require a toll that the four were unwilling to pay. So they ventured up the mountain range to reach Silvera by another more perilous route. It was well known that Rock Golems occupied these matterhorns, and they would not take kindly to anyone traversing their rocky turf.

“We must have Truliso fly over the mountains and spot any potential hazards,” said Tefl.

“It is likely that if we travel swiftly, we will elude the Rock Golems,” added Poxig.

“We are still at the mercy of the weather atop those cliffs!” exhorted Nesta, “any blizzard would make us have to turn to the King’s Road.”

“Yes, but we will have to continue towards the acclivity,” Tefl said.

“Ah yes, but we might need a bit o’ magic to get us through,” Poxig said.

Poxig didn’t know any magic, but he prayed to his god Releven for strength. Only the most persistent and indefatigable could make it over the Ladimore mountains to the Crescent Lake, where the town of Silvera lay. He took out the ORB, and looked into its mystical center. He swore he could see a glimmer of light somewhere inside, but it quickly went out. They would have to get to the Naughright guild by any means necessary.

As they gained altitude, they could see the shadowy image of Truliso above them, scouting the territory. If only they had magic to make them alight like the dragon wing! But none among them knew any dark magic. Their neophyte mage, Nesta, was still yet unskilled in the white arts. But, should they have any medical needs, the healer would be an indispensable part of the crew.

As they ascended the acclivity, the trees began to dwindle progressively. The last light of dawn was during into the gloaming of the day. Up they went, without any means of a trail. Their only hope of crossing that impassable area was finding Nitla Pass, which according to their most recent maps, would lead through the mountain range to the valley of the Crescent Lake. It was hard to say whether they would find it by sheer chance, but they continued to believe in the Providential design of Master Control, the elusive deity behind the events transpiring on Cosmon.

“We must needs find Nitla Pass,” said Tefl.

“And definitely before nightfall,” added Poxig.

The search for Nitla Pass would not be easy. Truliso was high above scouting for possible hazards, but they couldn’t see through the crepuscular mist. Everything around them seemed nebulous and unclear. Even their mission seemed strange and mysterious. They were under the influence of the dark magic field that surrounded the Silver City. Only Tefl could hold on to his reason and march forward with the courage that led the party towards and imperceptible destination.

“Darxon II has probably had influence here!” said Nesta. “My magician’s sense is that he may have surrogates in the company of the circle of sages at Naughright. We must be careful to whom we confide it once we arrive,”

This was the least of the worries of Poxig, for he knew that they would have to get past the Rock Golem if they were to cross the Ladimore mountains unharmed. The wind was whipping faster through their hair, and it had begun to flurry. The crags had become more an more impassable. But they pressed on through the rocky wasteland in search of the pass to the fertile valley of Crescent Lake.

Poxig shuddered at the name of Trink-Zelfo. It wasn’t long ago that he had met him a Wyckham Hall a year and a half ago.

“Why can’t the rebel dragonite return any time they wish?” asked Nesta.

“They need dark magic to channel a bridge back to our world. They need a black magician who is powerful enough to command the earthlink to appear,” Jane uttered.

“The only power that could rival this force are the lighted ORBs. The light warriors will bear them to the Temple of Chaos, or so the prophecy says,” she continued.

” I have this!” he showed them the ORB of power. It was dark, without a glimmer of light.

“It can’t be! Then, where are the other three?” asked Jane.

“King Charles has them all!” Poxig interjected.

“We must take the sacred ORB to the circle of sages. They will tell us how to unlock its power,” said Tefl.

“Of course,” said Jane, ” but the Chaos Temple has been occupied by Garlang and his fiendish imp army for a generation. King Charles has lost control of it, and now it is occupied only by nefarious fiends.”

“So we have to stop them from creating the Earthlink,” said Tefl.

The four decided to head out for the Crescent Lake, where the Naughright guild resided. The mountain trail that would take them there was perilous and led to an almost impassable acclivity. But if they could fight the frigid temperatures and outmaneuver the rock golems, its possible that they could get to the wizard’s guild. The night’s discussion tended to center around how they would gain entrance to the elite guild.

“We must first give them the missive of Christopher White,” said Poxig. “He alone has credibility among the circle of sages.”

“You know him?” asked Tefl.

“Yes, and he gave me this letter,” he said. “It should be our ticket into the Silver City.”

“Yes, but will they listen to us?” asked Nesta.

“It’s hard to tell, but you may have to show them some of your magical ability,” said Tefl.

“If they could light the ORB, then we might be able to gain the confidence of King Charles of Marginalia,” said Poxig.

“Then, we’ll have to be extra careful. We’re still travelling with Truliso, and if we’re spotted, he could be killed before he gives the message to the sages,” said Jane.

“If that were to happen, the dark Lord Darxon II would surely marshal his army in favor of the orc hordes,” Tefl returned.

“Truliso is able to fly, so he should scout our path across the Ladimore mountains,” offered Jane.

“Precisely, but we must be on the watch for rock golems, which could easily impede our progress towards the Silver City,” said Poxig.

Poxig remembered the chant of the suzukibs from his home town. He remembered the advice of his mother: “Remember the rules of silver.” Surely, only silver made a difference in the Silver City. He had heard of this affluent community that was surrounded by the Crescent Lake. The opulence of this district was legendary, and frankly they would look like beggars amidst kings.

Jane approached the dragon whelp and began to chant in an unknown pidgin. The party stood bewildered as Truliso conveyed his message.

“It is hard to know whether the dragonite speaks the truth, but if what he says is true, then you must hasten him to the circle of sages in Naughright,” said Jane.

The dragon whelp uttered some more indecipherable sounds, and Jane responded by nodding and placing her hand on Truliso.

“Truliso talks of a massive rebellion of dragons. They could defect from Bamut and create a massive upheaval that could lead to war.”

“Please let’s go then, for we have to warn the sages of Naughright,” Poxig said.

“I don’t go anywhere without my mother’s approval,” said Jane. “She needs my care.”

“I’ll be alright here,” said Janis. “You must go. Even if this isn’t true, you need to be there. A dragon attack could easily wipe out the city of Marginalia.”

“The reason that the dragonite came thus far was to warn us. It could be an immanent attack,” said Tefl.

“Why would Truliso risk coming out this far for a lie?” asked Nesta.

“We can help, but we need you to come with us,” said Poxig.

“We need a dragon translator,” said Poxig, “because she is the only one that can translate the dragonite language.”

Jane Lampion agreed, and with the blessing of her mother, she set out with the part for Naughright. There they would make their way to the city gates, and hopefully gain entrance to the secretive magician’s guild. They journeyed beyond the mountain range to the Sallur river that would lead them to the crescent lake. The only way to gain entrance was by canoe. It was possible to become lost in the maze of rivulets that were etched in the stony range. Great pines were perched on the rock.

That night, they set up camp near the shoreline of the river, and they awaited nightfall. The four heroes: Tefl Broadsword, Poxig of Excelsior, Sheila Nesta, and Jane Lampion chatted with each other, talking about how to gain entrance to the guild at the crescent lake. Truliso slept soundly nearby. They munched on toasted nuts and drank river water mixed with powder in order to pass the time as the fire blazed on.

Suddenly, Poxig asked: “Why did you give up studying the dragonite clan?”

“I could no longer could trust the dragons that I was studying on the Cardia Islands. Even then, dissembling dragons were trying to hoodwink King Bamut, who would not let me into his throne room anymore. After the religious wars, he distrusted all humans. Then, one night I met Truliso. He was a young dragon who endured the scorn of his companions in order to learn English as a Second Language. He was the go-between.”

“Then, Truliso does understand English!” Poxig exclaimed.

“Yes, but he cannot speak it. But for this reason, he was elected to be the envoy for the human race,” surmised Tefl.

“He must have been chosen by the dragon king himself. Dragonites are monarchical, not democratic,” returned Jane.

The dragon whisperer Jane Lampion turned away. “There was a hideous race of dragons that rejected Bamut as king. They left for the castle of Ordeal on the floating continent,” Jane said.

“This continent doesn’t exist!” exclaimed Tefl.

“It most certainly does! It is the dragonite word for the moon. Only magician dragonites can fly there because they surround themselves with an ORB of oxygen that allows them to breathe,” Jane said.

“And so, why should we care?” asked Tefl.

“When they return, they will have mastered destructive magic that will allow them to make war on mankind. Even now, Trink-Zelfo, Estynax, and Darxon II the orc-overlord are trying to hasten their return,” she said.

Truliso, as he began to test his wings, grunted in approval. It wouldn’t be long until he could fly. But for the moment, he could not actually communicate with the party. Still, he crawled on the ground with them in order to assent to their help and the whelp believed that he could relay his message through them.

Sheila Nesta, having received her 100 Gold Pieces for the work, set off for Jane Lampion’s house with them. She led the way, as the party continued into the untapped wilderness. Jane had spent many years in the Cardia Islands studying dragons in their natural habitat. She was a woman who knew dragonite and could speak with them and hear their sounds in translation. Her house was just beyond the city walls of Marginalia.

They approached a dark green house that seemed to blend into the forest wall beyond it. There was a fire in the fireplace, and smoke curled up from the chimney. A dogbeast was sleeping on the porch. Poxig knocked on the oak door, which was weathered with age. The unkempt garden at the foot of the door had flowers of blue and yellow, and showed that someone was indeed inhabiting the cabin.

An elderly woman with long hair answered the door. “Yes?” she muttered.

“we’re looking for Jane Lampion, the dragon scholar,” said Poxig.

“Oh, yes, please come in. I’m her mother Janis, Jane is my daughter. She’s in back.”

Janis fixed some coffee while the three waited in the drawing room. All of the pictures on the wall were dusty images of Jane’s travels in Cardia. A giant painting of a dragon was on the rear wall. Jane had labeled all of the essential body parts of the dragon with scientific accuracy. The furniture looked time-worn, and it seemed to need mending in the upholstery. Papers were strewn about the entire household.

“Please don’t mind the mess,” said Janis. “I haven’t done housework since my husband died.”

“It doesn’t mattter,” said Tefl. “Please tell your daughter that we’re here to see her.”

“She’ll be out in a minute,” said Janis.

After about five minutes, a diminutive woman about five feet tall emerged from the back room. She wore a long tattered red and white dress and a yellow ribbon in her mousey-brown hair. She peered at them through thick lenses.

“Greetings. Do I know you?” Jane asked.

“No, probably not. But we have come here on special business. We’re the warriors of the prophecy, and we have a dire issue. We heard that you can communicate with dragons,”

“I don’t study dragonite language anymore,” she said. “You’re wasting your time.”

Nesta interrupted. “This is maybe the only time that you may have a chance to change history. The message is urgent. Our dragon, Truliso, was trying to reach the circle of sages with the message, but he was taken down by human arrows.”

“Let me see the dragon,” Jane said.

They took her outside to the far end of the forest glade. There, Truliso waited for the party to return. Jane began her attempt to reach him. She put her hand on his snout and began to chant:

“Salvete, dicite nomini tuo.”

Amazingly, the dragon heard her and began to speak.

The master sage of some repute had tried to dissuade his niece, but could not alter her conviction. Sheila Nesta was on tenterhooks to put her healer skills to some use, and she was very intent on trying it out, for better or for worse. Sage Barry doffed his conical red sages cap in bafflement. After some cajoling on the part of Sheila, sage Barry agreed to let her take the job.

After meeting them at the Procope, she left with the two warriors. All in a matter of time, they took her aside and told her of the secret mission to inform the Naughright guild of the Earthlink, a secret bridge to the floating continent where the criminals and blackguard dragons had set up their own government.

“Truliso is an emissary for Bamut, the dragonite king,” said Poxig.

“I’m not sure some hocus-pocus is going to help the dragon whelp, but his mission to inform the Naughright guild of the Earthlink is dire,” said Tefl.

“Are you saying that the Earthlink is imminent?” asked Nesta.

“We don’t know,” said Poxig. “But it is very important to heal the dragonite emissary so that he can continue on this mission. In fact, we were on our way to the holy guild in order to make our case that the ORBs could be lit again, and the light warriors vanquish the imp infestation caused by Garlang and his renegade knights.”

Sheila Nesta almost could not believe her ears. She knew of dragons, but she had never actually seen one. As the party of three ventured outside of the city walls, they could hear the cries of the dragon whelp in the clearing, who was moaning and growling in pain. They came upon Truliso, and the situation was more dire than expected. The dragon could hardly move, the wounds of the human arrow attack still fresh and bleeding profusely.

“Can you help us?” asked Poxig.

“I will try,” said the white mage.

She put a magic salve on Truliso’s wounds. Then, she mumbled an incantation which appeared to be Latin. Afterwards, a magic circle with a Latin cross appeared around the dragon. Tongues of fire and smoke came up burning the arrow shafts away, and then gradually the wounds began to close up, and the bleeding ceased. As the magic Latin cross disappeared, only the scars of the wounds remained where the arrows had been.

The level 3 magic spell had done its work. Tefl stood dumbfounded, since he had never seen such magic at work. Although he was still a skeptic of the magic arts, he could not but acknowledge the power of such magic. His father Lent had always taught him that magicians were charlatans, but he had to admit of the validity of Nesta’s healing arts.

After she had healed the dragon whelp, she tried to speak to Truliso but could not. They would need to go to the dragon whisperer, Jane Lampion, in order to decode the message to the wizard’s guild. The party of four went through the thick, deep, woods in order to seek the help of Jane, and perhaps, decode the message that was to go to the Naughright guild. In order not to be discovered, Truliso walked on the ground behind them instead of flying through the airspace.

Tefl was cleaning his teeth with a small penknife, for they had just had a meal of roasted pheasant at the Procope, a local restaurant in Gaia. He waited there for Poxig, and saw that he would be waiting for a long time. Poxig had gone in search for a new penknife, but they turned the search to someone who could bring Truliso back from the brink of death. The two warriors advanced to the white magic guild, in hopes of finding a white mage who could help their dragonite friend. They walked in the oak door of the guild, not sure what 100 gold pieces would buy them, if anything at all.

The sage who met their gaze questioned them first.

“Who disturbs the sanctity of this magician’s sanctuary?” he asked.

“If everything is equal, I must say that I don’t take much stock in magic,” said Tefl.

“Then, all things being equal, good day sir!” said the elderly sage.

“No. Please wait. My friend did not mean to offend you sir,” offered Poxig, “The truth is, my friend and I are in dire need of a healer, sir, and we were told that white mages work here for hire…”

“How much do you have there, my green-faced friend?”

“We could offer you 100 Gold Pieces,” returned Poxig.

“My dear elf!” laughed the sage with a bellow. “That’s not enough gold to hire a magician for two hours!”

Just then, there was a rustle behind the curtain that obscured the way to the rear of the mage’s guild. “‘Nuncle! My uncle Barry!” and a lovely trim red-haired woman dressed in a white raiment emerged from the curtain, “who will pay 100 gold?” she asked.

Sage Barry tried to quiet the young woman. “Pay no attentiion to her! She’s just my hard-headed niece.”

The woman seemed familiar to Poxig. She had long red hair, blue eyes, and lips of cherry-red. Her nails were painted bright red. She wore a white cloak with a red hair barrette. He eyes sparkled with the glint of a great magician. She was plucky, with a tom-boyish enthusiasm. No doubt she was still a journeywoman mage, but she impressed Poxig with her homespun turns of phrase.

“I’m still trying to get my first post. I’ll take the pay and help you. I’ve only been in healing school for one year, but I can probably help you with your medical needs,” she said.

“What is your name?” asked Poxig.

“Sheila Nesta,” she replied, “nice to make your acquaintance.”

“I am Poxig Excelsior, and this is Tefl Broadsword.”

“I have some experience as a tutor of white magic,” she said, “and I throw in the sass free of charge.”

Sheila Nesta winked with her long lashes. She was in perfect form, as a feminine ideal, she could not help but attract the attention of Tefl. Her beauty could be a snare to men of a certain age, but Tefl had learned to keep such vixens at a certain distance. Still, it was possible that the two friends took a chance on the neophyte mage because of her charm and pluckiness. It was unusual to find a healer with such appealing character traits. Sage Barry reluctantly let her go on this mission, but he gave them a disclaimer about her general ability in these matters.

The party of three left the mage’s guild, and they stopped at a cafe in Gaia called the Procope. They sat at a table to discuss. Tefl ordered tea, Poxig coffee, and Sheila plain water.

“We have a proposition. We will give you the money once you complete the task,” said Tefl.

“But didn’t you say you are light warriors?” asked Sheila. “Surely you have more means than that.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Poxig. “The truth is that I am the guardian of the ORB. The king has yet to recognize us and send us on our mission.”

“Well… who needs healing services,” asked Sheila.

“There is a dragon whelp in the forest glade not far from here,” whispered Poxig.

“A dragon? You can’t be serious! I thought they were only a myth of my ancestors.”

“Yes, and he bears some important information, that must get to the king,” said Poxig.

“We need a healer to restore the dragon back to full health,” said Tefl.

“I’ve only practiced on humans, and one gnome. I can’t guarantee that I will be able to heal the dragon whelp,” Sheila said.

“We need you to try,” said Poxig. “If the dragon whelp dies, there will be terrible consequences for the human race, and by a corrolary, elven kind.”

The two confabulated like this for some time, and then Sheila Nesta agreed to go with them in order to try to resolve the problem. She said that she could not use level one magic for this task, but would have to try a level three spell, which she had never yet done. But after they had passed some time at the Procope and paid the bill, they were on their way.

Poxig began his excursion into the untapped wilderness with Tefl the knight errant close by. The unbroken verdure between here and the Naughright guild could be retained in the imagination for only a moment. So much potentiality existed for this range of forested countryside. He could not hope to reach the guild without days of fasting and prayer, but he was determined to do so. The wilderness was both the source of elven strength, and the place where gnomes and imps could take someone by surprise. In all his travels, he stopped to admire the primacy of nature.

“Tis an edification of the heart to look upon this!” said Tefl solemnly.

“I concur. But what imps could ruin our vista concerns me about,” replied Poxig.

“I have always believed that all of our ills can be solved by nature and a meditation of its truth,” returned Tefl.

“Still, this land bears great sorrows. We will have to find succor at some point,” said Poxig.

The heroes ventured deep into the wilderness, in search of the trail that would lead them to the Naughright guild. They were both struck with uncertainty, but remained focused on their ultimate goal. The trees resounded with support from the blowing of their leaves to their chanting in unison.

‘Ballo’

The Greek word for ‘throw’ was necessary for them to hear. Only to throw themselves into this project, to cast aside all aspersions, to venture forth in courage, all of these virtues would be needed to vanquish the foe: Garlang of the Temple mount.