Creative Corner

@windsway - added, thanks for the interest! Sorry to leave you guys hanging - my fall break's coming up so expect a new chapter soon!

“Victoria, darling, I am simply delighted to hear that you’re feeling better.” Even Eleanor’s voice had an extravagant quality to it, as if she was drawing out each word in order to decorate the air around her. Clementine forced a bright smile.

“Yes...auntie. I’m feeling much more like myself today.”

The pink tundra simpered at the term of endearment, absently plucking at one of her pieces of jewelry with long, manicured claws. “Wonderful. Are you up for joining your uncle and me today? I would love to start introducing you to the court. Oh, just wait until you meet Trinket – such a nice, handsome fellow, and he comes from a respectable family, don’t you worry...”

Clementine let her ramble on, adding in polite nods where it seemed appropriate. She was only half-listening; most of her attention was focused on her gold bracelet, under which she’d hidden the small knife she’d found with a plate of fruit. It wasn’t much, but it was just about the only potential weapon in this room. The thought of actually using it made her a little sick – she was a good hunter, but hurting another dragon was another thing all together. Still, if it could help get Shrike free, she knew she wouldn’t hesitate.

Eleanor was still going. “...and of course that was quite the scandal, as you can imagine. Oh, but I’m going a bit, I’m sure. Ready to go, dear?”

“Yes, let’s!” Clementine replied in what she hoped was an enthusiastic and refined way. She wasn’t eager to leave the relative coolness of her quarters, but she had to see more of the Furnace if she wanted to find a way out. At a smooth wing gesture from Eleanor, her wildclaw guards stepped away from the doorway, allowing the two tundras to pass. Clementine fell into step next to her supposed aunt, trying to subtly take note of directions and landmarks. Unfortunately, her guards had not abandoned them – they followed behind at a discrete distance, not saying a word. That was fine; Eleanor was doing enough talking for all of them.

“I just can’t believe you’ve been living rough this whole time, how awful...we’ve got plenty of work to do, getting you caught up on court etiquette. Not that you would have gotten much of the proper education up in the Viridian Labyrinth – they do live a little wild up there, don’t they?” She gave a high, fake-sounding laugh. If she was upset about the alleged death of her brother, she was certainly hiding it well.

Eleanor steered them into the grand hall from the previous night, now absent of Council members. The pink dragon seemed distracted. “Brighton was going to meet us here. I suppose I’ll have to see where he’s gotten to – wait here a tic.” She flounced off, leaving Clementine with only the glistening metal and liquid fire for company. And her wildclaw guardians, of course – they loomed at the cavern’s entrance, conversing with each other in low voices, interspersed with glances in her direction. After a moment one of them turned and trotted back down the passageway; the other swiveled its head toward Clementine and came her way. Its huge claws clicked against the mosaic tile with each step, and it was all too easy to imagine the damage they could do.

“Yes?” she called out, cautiously. “What is it?”

The wildclaw stopped a few steps away, eyeing her curiously as its feathery crest flicked up and down. It felt like being stared down by an oversized hawk. Maybe this was why Shrike wasn’t overly fond of her storm seekers.

“Milady,” the guard began, polite but urgent. A female, Clementine realized. “I’ve been informed that there are plots at work to topple the crown, and that these plans involve returning you home. I know you’re not who they say they are – I know that the king and queen are liars. All of my people do.” She paused, glancing in the direction her partner had gone. “There will be a commotion soon enough; don’t be alarmed. And you mustn’t tell anyone about this. I’m deadly serious.” Clementine, who couldn’t tear her eyes away from the dragon’s claws, believed her.

Before she could reply, though, Eleanor came bustling back, accompanied by Brighton and a dragon of some type Clementine hadn’t seen before. He was longer and taller than the tundras, but lightly built, with feathery purple wings that arched up over his back in a graceful curve. The black cloak and white cowl concealed most of his body, but did little to hide his agitation. “I’m sure of it, my liege,” Clementine heard as they came into earshot. “I wouldn’t have brought this to your attention if I wasn’t.” The tall dragon was prancing alongside Brighton, taking small impatient steps for every one of the smaller tundra’s strides. His voice was nasally and urgent, and Clementine immediately disliked him.

“Very well, Father,” Brighton growled in reply. “But this is something I need to see for myself.”

“It’s very disturbing, but if you are sure...”

“Of course I am. Lead the way.”

The skinny dragon pattered off across the mosaic tile, the royal tundras close behind. Eleanor glanced at Clementine and the guard as she passed, faintly surprised, as if she’d forgotten all about them. “Oh...I’m sorry, darling, nasty bit of business came up. I suppose you should come with us.”

The cloaked dragon led them along an unfamiliar series of passageways, angling ever upward. There were more windows here – some thick glass, some open to the elements – and through them Clementine caught glimpses of rough black stone, twisted metal spires, rivers of fire. Not a hint of greenness anywhere; she found herself aching for even the austere wildness of the tundra. This place made her feel like she was wilting.

“It’s in one of the main hangars,” the feathery dragon called out from up ahead. “The guards were working on clearing it out when I left...” Clementine heard Brighton swear under his breath as they entered a huge space, a cave entrance with a mouth wide enough to accommodate the wingspan of even the largest guardian. There were quite a few tundras milling about on the floor before them, making sounds of fear and confusion as they were steered out of the hangar by more burly wildclaw guards. Brighton acknowledged Clementine for the first time, looking worried. “You’re perhaps a little young to see this, my dear...”

“It’s all right. I’ve seen bad things before.”

“Yes. I suppose so.” The red tundra turned away, barking orders to guards as they approached the back of the hangar. There was a glow there, a strange splash of firelight that didn’t quite match the lanterns – a haphazard cluster of candles, illuminating some symbol drawn on the floor in white paint. A paw, sort of, except with five long fingers instead of four. Next to her, Eleanor gave a dramatic gasp as she was going to faint clear away; Clementine wanted to ask her what the big deal was. And then she saw the bones.

They were arranged neatly in the center of the paw. A dragon skeleton, and a very small one at that. “Oh, dear,” Eleanor whispered, and Clementine thought she even detected a hint of actual emotion in her voice. “They haven’t...you don’t think...”

“Oh, no,” the cloaked dragon said quickly, seeing what she was getting at. “No, these are very old bones, don’t worry. Probably brought up from the crypts.”

“You think this is them, then?” Brighton’s voice was gruff. “The Nameless cult?”

“I’m afraid so,” the cloaked dragon replied. “This is their symbol. And the skeleton...that’s very telling as well. This is one of their rituals. Rather grisly, isn’t it? If I may be so bold as to suggest, sire – this group is very dangerous. If one of them is inside our walls, I suggest finding him or her as quickly as possible.”

Brighton had already turned away and was shouting to his guards again. “Man your stations. I want the perpetrator found, and found quickly. Nobody comes in or out until they are in custody.”

The hangar became an urgent hive of activity at his words. “Come along, Victoria,” Eleanor murmured to her, taking a running leap into the air. But before Clementine could spread her wings to follow, something wrapped around her ankle. “I don’t think so,” came a voice from behind her. “Back this way.”

“Chime?”

“Yes, who else?” The spiral’s tail tugged at her again. “Come on. We do not have much time.”

“You...why...”

“No time. Later.”

She was starting to feel a bit dazed. The spiral had lied to her for weeks, but she certainly didn’t trust the royal tundras either. Uncertain, she slipped after Chime as the spiral slithered through a series of narrow, winding tunnels, dusty from lack of use. “Don’t worry, chérie, no way they’re tracking us through here...Clementine?”

“What’s going on?” Clementine’s feet had stopped warning, seemingly of their own accord. She’d planted herself on the dingy cave floor, staring at the infuriating spiral.

“Like I said, really, no time...”

“Tell me. Now.” She was trying to sound scary and resolute, although the image may have been ruined by the tremble in her wings. Hopefully it was too dark to see that.

“Oh, what a time to grow a backbone, Clem,” Chime hissed. “Look. You can trust me. I’m getting you out of here. Shrike, too. But we have to get going.”

“The dragon with the cloak? And my guard?”

“All working for me,” the spiral replied, waving her hand in the air with a magician’s flourish, “whether they know it or not. Really, I’m the queen now, in a way. Qu'ils mangent du gâteau and all that, eh?”

“Okay,” Clementine decided after a brief pause. “Okay. But I’m not forgetting about what you did earlier.”

“Regrettable, I admit. But I’m making up for it.” Chime commenced her brisk progress down the corridor, and Clementine had to scramble to keep up. If it was a choice between putting her trust in the slippery spiral and staying here her whole life, wearing lots of jewelry and interacting with more courtly tundras, she knew what her choice was.

Distant shouts were beginning to bleed down to their level, and they picked up the pace. “We don’t have much time,” Chime called back. “The whole cult business was our distraction, but they’ll figure out that’s it fake very soon. Claudius and his followers will make their move immediately, and trust me, we don’t want to be around for that. We will grab Shrike, grab Raust and the egg, and then we’ll be gone.” She said this all like it made sense – Clementine decided not to worry about it too much.

The tunnel began to flatten out, and Chime slowed down. She began knocking against the walls every few feet and listening intently at the sound it made, shushing Clementine whenever she was stepping too heavily or breathing too loudly. Clementine stared. Has she just gone mad? Is that why we’re running around abandoned tunnels for no reason?

“Aha!” The spiral began scrabbling excitedly at a certain part of the wall, and then yanked. To Clementine’s surprise, a piece of the tunnel swung inward with a creak and a thud. “Here we are!”

They cautiously climbed out into a small, dark room. A few brooms leaned against a wall, laced together with spiderweb. “Supply closet,” Chime whispered. “No one’s been here in years – not even in the plans anymore. A glaring mistake on their part.” She made for a rotting wood door, pulling it slowly open and ushering Clementine through. The two of them stood in a corridor lit only by a sputtering torch; the walls were hard to make out, but Clementine shied away once she realized what lined them. Interspersed with the rough stone were cells, blocked off by rusting iron bars. All of the ones they passed were empty, save for the foul-smelling water that swirled around their feet. The place made Clementine’s fur stand on end; nothing good had happened here.

“Rather disgusting down here. I’m told Shrike is being kept somewhere nearby,” Chime muttered grimly from up ahead. “Which makes sense. They would want to keep her something of a secret. We shouldn’t have to worry about guards, since they’re all hunting for some cult leader that doesn’t exist. Even so, keep an eye out.”

“Chime?” The voice was distant, barely discernable.

“Did you hear that?”

“CHIME.” Definitely discernable now, and very angry.

“Found her!” Chime called, sounding delighted as she ran ahead, peeking into every cell she passed before finding the right one. Heart pumping, Clementine caught up. Shrike is alive. She's okay.

Her friend’s cell was thankfully drier than the others, but Shrike herself looked terrible. She crouched drooping on the floor, crests flattened against her neck and wings splayed out on either side. At Clementine’s approach, though, she caught a familiar gleam in the mirror’s eyes. “Oh, Clementine. Thank the Icewarden you’re all right. Maybe you can tell me why this traitor got us into this mess.” As exhausted as she looked, Shrike still managed to sound furious.

“Ah, it’s a long story, and one I do deeply regret,” Chime began smoothly. “Needless to say, you were never meant to follow us all the way out here. The Ashfall Waste is no place for an iceborn.”

Shrike gave a soft churr of irritation. “You don’t say.”

“My deepest apologies. I will certainly explain myself, but I’m afraid time runs short. Could you see your way to trusting me again, once I have you out of here?”

“I doubt it,” Shrike told her flatly, “but get me out all the same.”

“Very well.” The spiral began feeling around the outside of the cell, evidently looking for something. After a few minutes, her motions became more frantic, and she muttered a few choice words. They weren’t in draconic, but Clementine had a pretty good guess as to what they meant. “Something the matter?”

“Erm. Possibly.” Chime had moved on to the adjoining cell, searching around a moment; her hat had slipped off her head and in her frustration, she hadn’t even noticed. “They were supposed to leave a key. If those boneheads forgot, I’ll...” She broke off, running her hands instead along her scarf. “They took my lockpicks when I entered the territory, but maybe...anyone see anything long and thin that I could use? A clip, or...”

“Oh!” Clementine shook her wrist, wriggling the little knife out from under her bracelet. “Would this work?”

“Ah, perfect! Give it here!” Chime took it from her, twisting it about expertly. “You know, I accomplished a dazzling heist at a Starfall Strand stronghold with nothing but a knife like this...this is maybe not the time, though.” She turned to the thick padlock holding Shrike’s cell door shut and began prying at it with the knife, pausing every so often to scratch the blade down to a certain shape she wanted. Eventually it popped open, and when Chime pulled the lock away, Clementine rushed in before Shrike could rush out.

“Shrike! Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you?” She stretched down to nuzzle the little dragon’s head with her nose, earning her a rare smile.

“I’m fine, Clem. Just very hot.” The mirror reached out toward her. “I wasn’t sure I was going to see you again.”

Clementine shuddered, pressing closer to her friend. “We’ll be okay now, right?”

“This is touching,” Chime drawled from behind them. “But we really do need to get moving. Shrike, are you well enough to travel?”

Shrike nodded stubbornly, pulling on Clementine’s fur as she struggled to her feet. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good. Then let’s be off.”

The three of them moved off the way Chime had taken to get there, back through the supply closet into the narrow series of tunnels. Shrike looked dead on her feet, but she was keeping up well enough, and Clementine knew that she wouldn’t accept a ride. The tunnels began turning in unfamiliar ways – flat instead of up. “I have to go back for an accomplice of mine. Also, an egg,” Chime told them. “It shouldn’t take long. This way.”

“An egg?” Shrike asked blankly, but Chime didn’t respond. The tunnel was becoming wider and little more well-kept; the spiral, in turn, was moving more warily. “We shouldn’t run into anyone here,” she murmured to them. “Still, be on your guard.”

Before them stood a pair of elaborate wooden doors, thrown wide open to bare a grand, circular cavern, with rows of benches leading up to massive marble statues of dragons. In the center of the room stood the cloaked dragon from before. He stood very still, even though he’d clearly seen them. “Come in,” he called out, and the odd inflection set Clementine’s teeth on edge. Something was wrong.

“Something’s wrong,” Chime muttered. “Listen. We cannot go out the way we came, so we go in. Anything goes south, fly straight up. There is a way out through the Flamecaller’s head. Oh, and Clementine, put your goggles on.” Before Clementine had a chance to make sense of that, the spiral was marching forward. Clementine and Shrike followed uneasily; passing through the doors felt like entering the mouth of some beast, ready to bite down at the slightest wrong movement. The cloaked dragon shook his head at them pleadingly as they approached, but Chime ignored him, whirling around to face the doors as soon as they’d reached him.

“Hello, Victoria. I see you’ve made some friends.” The voice came from Eleanor, previously unseen against the opposite wall. Brighton stood next to her, along with a small group of guards. The four of them weren’t outnumbered by much, but it was clear these dragons had combat experience far above and beyond any of them.

“Don’t try to move,” Brighton thundered, imperious. “I’ll tell my spellcasters to attack if you so much as breathe.”

Clementine moved in front of the others, spreading her wings. Her magic burned in her chest and in her eyes more powerfully than it ever had before, and she was sure their captors could see it. “Don’t come any closer,” she growled. She could feel a hand on her shoulder – Shrike trying to dissuade her – but she ignored it.

Eleanor laughed – a sparkling, brittle sound, like old gold. “You think you can scare us? We have some of the best smith-mages in the world.” Even so, she and her dragons stayed where they were. “You think you could pull the wool over my eyes, spiral? I saw through that ruse soon enough. And these rebels are sure to be put down – only a matter of time.”

It was Chime’s turn to laugh. “Oh, ma bonne reine, that is not what I hear. You’d be surprised to know just how many have changed sides, quietly. Even among your guards.”

Clementine saw a flicker of fear pass through the pink tundra, but she hid it quickly. “Enough. I’ll play your games no longer. Guards, apprehend them.”

“Wait just a minute. Raust here has something that will be of great interest to you. Perhaps enough to strike a deal.”

Eleanor waffled for a moment. “Fine,” she relented. “You have one minute.”

All eyes were on the skinny dragon – Raust – as he reached slowly into a pocket and pulled something out, turning his head away quickly as he did so. Clementine immediately saw the reason – the round object glowed with a blinding intensity. Eleanor and her dragons let out sounds of surprise, shielding their eyes from the light.

“Now,” she heard Chime say behind her, and then the four of them were in the air, climbing, climbing past perches and friezes and stained-glass windows. The spiral was making for one patch of glass in particular – the image of a great dragon, made up in reds and oranges, with large panes missing where its head should be. Chime shot through the gap, followed by Raust, and Shrike, and finally Clementine, who felt like laughing as she folded her wings to fit through the window, reaching for the sky.

Toward freedom. Toward ice.

Toward home.

@Cerastes
Woohoo, what a ride! :D Can't wait for the next part!

@Neige - added :D I did a size comparison, for funsies - look how stubby Clementine's wings are, haha. [img]http://i62.tinypic.com/ei3xie.png[/img]

[center][b]Chapter 19: Proving[/b] @LagMonster @Khoshekh @Stormsinger @starslang @Scyras @excessnight@pensandink @Solaristigres @Nihilo @WillowWhisper @Averis @SolarPhoenix@RizuChan @ArgenteaMoon @Elzerei @eeliesecks @tigressRising @hotdoge@Dragonfang @Whimzica @Soleil @Zexeos @windsway @Neige[/center] It was a quiet flight back. Shrike had a brief exchange with Clementine ([i]“You can fly now? That’s so great!”[/i]) and Chime introduced them to the skydancer. His name was Raust, he was a priest, and was described as “an old friend from the Cloudsong.” Raust gave each of them a stiff nod, and then there was silence. They were making good time, riding the cold-air current just below cloud level; the Ashfall Waste raced along beneath them, and soon enough the fiery coastline fell away, leaving only the dark expanse of open sea. Night was falling fast, and they were surrounded by a soft sort of darkness, with the chop of the waves below reflecting the gray clouds above. The land was receding into the distance behind them, until the glow of the mountains looked like a bed of coals on the horizon. They were all exhausted, but there were other factors contributing to the lack of conversation. Shrike didn’t much feel like talking to Chime or even looking in the spiral’s direction – she was too tired to be angry, so instead she let a cold indifference settle over her. There would be time later for asking and arguing and giving the treacherous dragon a piece of her mind. She was also too tired to be curious about the presence of Raust, or the strange glowing orb in his pocket. Later. She would worry about all of it later, once they were back on the ice and she’d had a chance to sleep. And eat. What she wouldn’t give for a nice crunchy bug right about now. Their flight was turning monotonous: dark clouds above, dark sea below, little sound except for the waves and the whispers of their wings. The way back was beginning to feel much longer than Shrike’s frenzied trip earlier, and her wings ached with every flap. This delicate body was built for speed and maneuverability rather than long-distance travel, and she was feeling it. Much to her embarrassment, Clementine noticed. “Hey,” the young tundra called out, interrupting her easy soar to flap up next to Shrike. “You want to rest for a little while?” Shrike shrugged away her offer. “Nah. I’ll be fine.” “Seriously, Shrike, you look dead on your wings. I don’t mind. You weigh pretty much nothing.” Ordinarily Shrike would continue refusing, but she was beginning to feel like she might just fall asleep and tumble out of the sky if she didn’t stop for a while. Mumbling her thanks, she folded her wings and alighted on Clementine’s back, where she curled up between her shoulder blades. “Just for a minute,” she mumbled, already feeling the haze of sleep overtaking her. “Just resting my eyes.” “Sure thing,” Clementine hummed back. “Get some sleep.” Shrike awoke an indeterminable amount of time later, to the sound of Chime’s voice. Her tone was urgent, but Shrike couldn’t catch the words. “Wassat?” she mumbled sleepily, entirely disoriented. “What’s going on?” “Some specks on the horizon,” Clementine whispered back to her. “Probably nothing, but Chime’s worried we might have been followed. We’re flying up into the clouds – hang on, it’s going to get cold...” “I’m fine now. I can fly myself.” Shrike launched herself off the tundra’s back, spreading her butterfly wings with a wince. She was far from well-rested, but at least she didn’t feel she was about to nod off at any moment. “How long was I asleep?” “Oh, maybe an hour or so? Chime says we’re getting close to land.” Shrike could sense that too – the air was getting colder, crisper: the way it should be. The sky had a bite to it now and it felt invigorating. The four of them were angling up, and soon they hit the cloudy ceiling above them, swathing them all in an opaque blankness. “Stay together!” Shrike heard herself shouting. “Brush wingtips. Keep on course.” It would be easy to get lost up here – the last thing they needed was to get split up. As angry as she was at Chime, she didn’t exactly want her to disappear into the clouds, either. They stuck close as they made their way through the cloudbank – she could feel Clementine on her right and Raust on her left, with Chime’s muffled wingbeats sounding from somewhere above. It was breathtakingly cold this high up, and Shrike could feel beads of moisture gathering on her wings, her face. “Shrike?” Clementine’s voice came out of the mist after several minutes; she sounded afraid. “I’m right here.” “I can’t move my wings very well. I think they’re icing up.” That wasn’t good. “Everybody down!” she ordered. Secrecy would do them no good if the others stopped being able to use their wings. “Chime?” she called out after they had dropped back to clear airspace. “See anything?” The spiral snaked around them, unconsciously graceful as she scoped out the area behind them. “Nothing.” “Good.” They resumed their quiet flight; Shrike felt beyond the point of tiredness now, into a strange place where her mind was sharply aware but nothing else quite felt real. Time raced away like the sea beneath them, deep and silent. The sudden appearance of land surprised her – it felt as though they’d been flying for ages, and yet no time at all. [i]Home,[/i] she thought with a rush of feeling, watching as moonlit tundra and icy crag swept by under them. “I see a place to land,” Shrike shouted, hoping her voice carried over the wind. “Follow me.” She angled her wings sharply downward, entering into a controlled spiral as the ground rushed up to meet her. She was aiming for an icy outcrop, set into the rocky escarpment of something between a foothill and a mountain. Snapping her wings back open, she landed lightly – it was an indescribable feeling, having the ice underneath her feet once more. This was where she belonged, and she was more sure of that than ever. The others landed around her, Raust skidding a little as his feet hit the ground. They all looked as bone-tired as she felt, and all eyes were on her, expectant. “We can stay here for the night,” Shrike decided, glancing around. They’d be more or less sheltered by the cliff face, and it was too high up for predators to be a problem. “Stick to the rock, though. That ice doesn’t look particularly stable.” She was eyeing a long crack in the ice that reached deep into the glacier’s bowels, wide enough for a careless dragon to slip through. For a moment, with vindictive pleasure, she imagined Chime falling down it. “Happy to comply,” the spiral replied, turning away when Shrike glared at her. “I suppose a fire would be too much to ask for, iceborn?” Raust asked, looking distinctly unhappy. He was shivering despite the heavy cloak. Shrike didn’t particularly like the way he was looking down his nose at her, but maybe that was just a skydancer affectation. “I guess we could do that,” Shrike grumbled, even though scouting for driftwood was about the last she wanted to do. “Very well. There are some dead trees nearby – allow me.” The priest took off before Shrike could ask. “He can sense things. Living, dead. They give off certain...[i]âme.[/i] Energies, you could say.” Chime tapped her own forehead, in the same place where the priest had a strange gem-like structure. Shrike was barely listening; she waited until Raust was totally out of sight before rounding on the spiral, ineffectually shoving the larger dragon backwards. Behind her, Clementine gave a small squeak of fright. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, [i]right now,”[/i] she hissed, her face inches from Chime’s. “Who is he? Why is he here? How could you do this to Clementine?” Chime held up her hands and edged away, placating. “All right, all right. No need to get your wings in a twist. Raust was an old...[i]business partner[/i] of mine when I lived in the Windswept Plateau. I, allegedly, got him into a nasty spot of trouble. He decided to renounce the [i]business[/i] and join the priesthood.” Her coils were twisting slowly as she spoke. “What you see is what you get with him. He’s not the most pleasant dragon, but he’s harmless. What I [i]really[/i] needed him for is that egg.” “Egg?” Shrike frowned. “You mean that glowing thing? That’s an [i]egg?”[/i] “[i]Oui, oui.[/i] It’s a very [i]special[/i] egg, you see.” “Chime, we [i]really[/i] don’t have the resources to care for a hatchling...” “Oh, I doubt it’ll actually hatch. It’s been dormant for over two hundred years. Still, I had to try...there’s quite the mythos surrounding this egg, you see. Normally I wouldn’t believe in such things, but...” she spread her arms wide. “I will tell you more later. Only way I could get to Raust – to the egg – was to have a pass, as I’m something of a wanted criminal out that direction.” “Pretty sure you’re a wanted criminal in every direction.” “Oh, you.” The spiral giggled. “Anyway, Clementine was my pass. She was never in real danger – I’ll admit you complicated things a bit, but we got out all the same.” Shrike rocked back on her haunches, thinking it over. “Fine. You can stay. He can stay. For now. But if I ever get the sense that you’re trying to cross me again...” “Of course. Fair is fair.” She looked like she was about to say more, but then there was a great [i]whoosh[/i] of air above them as the big skydancer returned, carrying an armful of dry wood. Shrike had a small fire going soon after – she was getting better at building them – and the four of them curled up around it. Conversation was minimal, and Clementine fell asleep almost immediately. Raust followed soon after, his breath evening and slowing. In sleep, he lost the stiffness and severity she’d come to associate with him. Shrike still felt strangely awake, and sat a while staring into the flames. “Chime?” she whispered eventually, when she was sure that they were the only two up. “Yes, Shrike?” “You never intended to rescue Clementine, did you? You were going to leave her. Take your payment and go.” There was a sharp intake of breath from across the fire; the normally suave dragon seemed at a loss for words. “I will not deny it. The reward was too great to pass up.” “Her home is with me. You know that.” “I know. I realized, which is why I helped get you both out.” She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice sounded very small. “I am not a good dragon, Shrike. I am sorry for this.” “Do better.” [i]“Oui. Je promets,”[/i] the spiral whispered back. “[i]Je promets.[/i] I promise.” There was silence after, and although Shrike tried to keep her eyes open – someone should really be keeping watch – she fell exhausted into sleep, as the dying flames fought off the shadows around them. She awoke once again to noise and panic. “Wake up!” Clementine was shouting. “Wake up! Wake up! We have to run!” Disoriented and afraid, Shrike was on her feet in a second. The cause of Clementine’s distress was immediately apparent – there was a huge dragon bearing down on them, fast, wan sunlight glinting off its extended claws. “It’s him,” Clementine said in what was almost a sob. “Eleanor’s...” Shrike considered their options – they had seconds before he was upon them. If they tried to fly they’d be caught in an instant, sparrows before a hawk. Couldn’t go up, couldn’t go across – it’d have to be down. “The ice!” she heard herself shouting before the idea had even fully formed. “The ice! Go down!” The others didn’t question it, following her as she launched herself into the air and made for the fissure she’d seen the night before. [i]Not enough time,[/i] she thought, glancing behind her. The guardian’s claws were nearly at Clementine’s tail. They weren’t going to make it. She wrenched herself around in the air, flying straight at the guardian’s face before she could think about what an idiotic idea this was. “Go!” she shouted, as she saw the others falter in her peripheral vision. “GO!” Her voice sounded more mirror than fae, and they obeyed, disappearing one by one into the ice. The guardian hadn’t been expecting this, slowing in surprise as she buzzed toward one of its eyes. It jerked its head back with a roar at the last minute, and she flipped away, flying along close along the beast’s neck. It swiped at her with a huge paw, and she dodged, aiming for the soft underbelly, unprotected by its plate-like scales. She raked her claws along it near an armpit – she couldn’t possibly be doing much damage, but the big dragon gave a roar of irritation, flipping away. It was starting to catch onto her tactics now, tracking her a little too closely for her liking. [i]Okay. Time to leave.[/i] Surely she’d given the others enough time to get away. She zipped for the crack in the ice, trying to outfly the guardian’s claws. And she succeeded – almost. Just as she reached safely, she felt a claw snag her back legs, throwing off her balance and sending her into a tumble down the narrow fissure. Desperately trying to right herself before she hit whatever was at the bottom of this thing, she stuck her wings out, only succeeding in banging them against the sides. Then, unexpectedly, there was something beneath her. The breath went out of her with an [i]oomph[/i] as she landed on a soft, feathery surface. “I’ve got you,” came a crisp male voice. “That was extremely foolish, you know.” Shrike was too out of breath to reply, hanging on as the skydancer awkwardly navigated the gap, digging his claws into the icy sides to keep from sliding further down. Ahead of them, the fissure widened on one side into a broad ledge, on which Chime and Clementine were perched. “Shrike!” she heard Clementine call out anxiously. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine, Clem,” she replied as Raust gently deposited her next to them. “Ah, your legs...” Chime tutted, and Shrike glanced down – there was a decent-sized slash across both of them where the guardian had almost taken ahold of her. She waved it away. “I’ll be fine. Just a scratch.” The spiral peered at her for a second longer, before turning to inspect their surroundings. “There’s a tunnel here,” Chime noted, “and I say we follow it. We certainly can’t go back up, with that thing skulking around.” Without waiting for agreement, she snaked her head into the dark opening and was gone. Clementine glanced at Shrike and shrugged before following. The fae and skydancer brought up the rear – Chime was right. They didn’t really have a choice. The tunnel was completely dark, and they went carefully. Shrike was glad she wasn’t going first – ice caves were notoriously treacherous, and what looked like a safe surface could really just be a thin sheet over a bottomless pit. To her surprise, though, the tunnel seemed to be widening, not narrowing, as they went – and when she put out a hand to touch the wall, it was rock she felt, not ice. “Wait a moment,” Chime called from somewhere up ahead, and from the way her voice echoed it sounded like she’d entered a much larger space. “Raust, the egg?” Reluctantly, the skydancer pulled the orb out of his pocket and passed it up to her. It was now swathed in a thin fabric, so that the light it put out was gentle instead of blinding. “Be extremely careful with it.” “Of course, of course...” The words died on the spiral’s lips as she raised up the egg to see. “Oh my. [i]Incroyable.”[/i] The four of them stood in awe at the cavernous space they’d stumbled into. This was no simple cave; this was a space carved out meticulously by dragon claw. Intricate stonework, cut through by streaks of blue ice, led up to a vaulting ceiling supported by grand oak beams. A massive hearth stood at one end of the room, and they were surrounded by furniture in various states of disrepair, dusty from misuse. Tattered banners hung from the rafters, the thread still vibrant, displaying images of maulers, ravens, wolves, shalebuck, elk, yeti. Various tunnels led off the main room, hinting at more wonders unexplored. “Wow.” Shrike heard herself say. “Oh, this is [i]fascinating,”[/i] Raust murmured, craning his long neck. “This must have been made in the days of the earliest iceborn. Just after the end of the third age. I’ve seen images of their architecture before, but to come across this...” Shrike became aware of her trembling legs, and she sat heavily, wincing as the movement sent sharp waves of pain through her. Chime turned to her, looking concerned. [i]“Mon amie.[/i] We can worry about the architecture later. Let’s take care of those cuts...” “Excuse me,” Raust snapped at her. “Exactly [i]one[/i] of us is a trained healer, and [i]I[/i] will be attending to her.” The two of them glared at each other, and Raust kept glaring even as he pulled a small medicine bag out of his cloak. “Now, let me see...” He was very clinical as he dabbed a bit of ointment on the cuts (after assuring her it wouldn’t sting. It did) and then wrapped them with a length of gauze. “There,” he told her briskly as he tied off the bandages. “We’ll change these once a day, but you should be just fine.” “Thank you,” she told him quietly, rising to her feet. “I think we all need to rest. We can decide what to do about all this in the morning.” There were mumbles of agreement from all around, and Chime and Raust alighted, presumably looking for sleeping places a little more out of the way. Shrike and Clementine poked their heads down a few of the tunnels, eventually finding what seemed to have once been a nursery, with plenty of dried grass. It was ancient and brittle, but still much better than sleeping on cold stone. Shrike curled up. It took her a little time to calm her heart and relax, but she slept, finally feeling safe and secure. She dreamed that she’d been frozen inside a block of ice. It should have felt terrifying, but instead it was oddly peaceful – the world was blurred around her, and everything was very far away. Distantly, she could hear her travelling companions discussing what to do. [i]“What happened?” “Do you think she’s hurt?” “No, no...”[/i] The voices were becoming a little too distinct, and she opened her eyes to the sight of Clementine, Chime, and Raust all peering down at her. It was extremely disconcerting. “Whoa! What do you want?” “Hmm.” Chime was peering at her appraisingly. “Come here. I think you’ll want to see for yourself.” Drowsy and confused, Shrike got to her feet and followed the three of them out of the nursery. Raust went first with his light, leading him down a passageway to a chunk of ice that was nearly perfectly smooth. “Take a look,” he told her, gesturing at the reflective surface. Shrike peered at herself, and then jerked back in surprise. “What...?” Her skin had been dark and uniform before, and was now streaked with a bold pattern of light stripes and spots. She traced along them with her claws, openmouthed. “What is this?” [center][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/93406/9340534_350.png[/img][/center] “Where am I from, we called it [i]marqué[/i]...the ice tribes refer to it differently. Proving, I think?” “You think this is my first [i]proving?”[/i] Shrike replied, incredulous. “You only get that when you’ve done something unselfish for your family.” “[i]Oui.[/i] Flying at that guardian was very stupid, but unselfish, I would say.” “But...my family’s far away. Across the tundra.” “Try a looser definition, my friend.” Shrike started at the implication, looking around at the dragons she’d come to know. The thief and the priest, who hated each other. The sweet tundra who trusted them all too much. A strange, glowing egg somehow older than them all. And herself, some dysfunctional amalgam of mirror and fae. Family? Really? Clementine smiled and draped a wing around her. “I think it looks [i]great,[/i] Shrike.” Shrike spent a moment longer staring at their reflection. Four dragons, who’d found themselves in an ancient lair far below the ice, against all odds. They were a strange group, but as families went, she’d seen worse.