"No, no. Let it get a grip on the apple first...there you go. You have to let it nibble before it grabs the whole thing at once." The man looked about mid-thirties, wearing rough wool underneath a loose black tunic. A small dagger hung at his waste and his boots rose to his mid-calf.

The little girl giggled as the goat snagged the apple from her hand, getting slobber on her fingers as the fruit fell to the ground.

"There you go, sweet girl," said the man in a calm, hushed tone. He smiled gently and gave her a small kiss on the top of her head.

The goats made loud bleating noises and the man grabbed a pinch of food from a pail and held it in his palm for the nearest goat to nibble from. His daughter laughed as she watched the goat's tongue lap up the food.

"Can I try, father?"

"Sure. Just don't be shy, the goat will feel startled if you aren't confident. Hold your palm out firmly." The little girl held out her palm with a fresh pile of shredded food scraps and gave her father a delighted smile once the goat finished licking the food out from her hand.

"Father, is it going to rain?" She was looking up at the sky, which was full of heavy, dark clouds.

"There's a good chance...we'll see." He scanned the sky above head and pursed his lips. It had been nonstop rain and snow for the past couple weeks and his fields were struggling to recover. His cattle trampled through mud for a field and moaned at the lack of grass to graze on. His goats didn't seem to mind, bleating loudly for food and then rolling around in the mud when they butted their horns against one another playfully. He had always been fond of goats, especially when his father had gifted him his first goat all those years ago.

His ran his hand over his daughter's pig braids. She was so small, so precious. His smile faded at her next question.

"Daddy, who is that?" She pointed a tiny finger in the distance where two figures gingerly trudged towards the house. The man put his arm around his daughter, never moving his eyes from the two men who trudged slowly towards the house.

"Those are, uh, I'm not quite sure, love. Why don't you go inside and see what your mum is up to, okay?" His daughter gave a curt nod and then ran back toward the house. The man's hand made slowly for his dagger down by his side. Thunder roared overhead. The man didn't flinch but kept his gaze on the two strangers that continued on toward the lone house that sat isolated in the middle of the yellow plains of flat ground and soggy mud.

As the men came closer, he recognized those cloaks. "Bloody hell, Magi Knights..."

The men were within speaking distance now and the man held out his hand to stop them from coming any closer.

"Right there is good, no closer. I know who you are, I don't want anything to do with your funny business. Leave me out of it."

The taller man with short, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard spoke, "Look we don't want to bring you any trouble, we're just looking for a quiet place to stay for a day or two while we gather our bearings. You can put us with the cattle in the stables, really."

The man grimaced his face as he scanned over their bodies. The man who spoke bore no weapons but was covered head to toe in scrapes and mud. He had a large gash that cut through the fabric of his pant leg on his thigh and exposed a deep wound that crusted, dry blood has filled in. His cheek had a long slash across it and one of his eyes was swollen shut. The other man stood a couple inches shorter and had dirty blonde hair to go with a face that had so much as a little peach fuzz. In place of facial hair sat dirt and mud and pimples. He wore a blank expression and his hair was down his neck and tussled wildly.

"Tell me your names. Where do you come from?"

"I am Fintan Feynros, a Knight of the Magi Order. This is my apprentice—"

"—He can introduce himself if he wishes to stay in my house. Or stable. Go on, then."

"Oh, erm, my name is Vince. I'm with him." Vince gave an awkward finger pointed towards Fintan who stood beside him and Fintan visibly cringed at the poor introduction.

"Of course, you are Magi, but where are you coming from? You're not bringing trouble, are you? If so, I want nothing of it. I've got a daughter inside." He turned back toward his home and saw his daughter and mother peering out of the front door at the three men.

"Stay inside, dear. I'll be inside in a second." He turned back to Fintan and Vince now, "Look, I don't know what kind of trouble or dark magic you bring with you, but I want none of it here. You may stay in the horse stable for tonight, but I do not want to hear as much as a peep when I am inside the walls of my home. Be gone on the 'morrow at first light. And you can call me Gerith. I am but simply a farmer by trade and have been all my life. Do not involve me with your mysterious dealings and mishaps. Oh, and enjoy your stay." Gerith offered a wry smile as he turned to head back to his goats.

"Gerith! Gerith, we will not trouble you, but you should know that Weptswur is vulnerable right now, and it is crucial to your well-being as well as my own that my apprentice and I make it to Weptswur's Castle Ranhold of Weptswur Kingdom. I will simply—"

Fintan froze in his words and lifted his hands above his head. Gerith had pulled his dagger out and held it out lousily towards Fintan's face.

"What did I say? I will not be involved with your Knight's talk. Leave me out of it before I beg your leave." Gerith turned again and made his way into the pen that kept his goats.

Fintan and Vince made for the stables. An hour had passed, and Fintan and Vince lay passed out in a bale of hay alongside the company of horses. Vince awoke startled at the sensation of a wet tongue swiping across the back of his neck.

"What're you—who is that?" Vince gave a perplexed look at the perpetrator which was the horse in a stall to the right of them. He gave a sigh and small chuckle.

"Oh, it's you." He turned to Fintan who still lay still, passed out. He could hear Gerith speaking to someone somewhere out beyond the stable as he continued his work. He was surprised that it wasn't raining yet—Vince heard him saying to someone. His wife? A brother maybe? His question was answered not long after when a lady who was fair as he'd seen since leaving his home to take on Knighthood under the Magi Order.

She approached him in a maid's dress and a bonnet over her bright, blond hair. Her cheeks were high, and her blue eyes gave her a look of innocence and youth that forced Vince to suppress a smile initially, but he could not help it. Here he was, napping in her hay stack in the horse's stable. A great way to introduce himself. Fintan still snored loudly beside him, unmoving.

"Hello, m'lady. I hope you don't mind us making ourselves a home here in your stables. Your husband was so very kind to let us stay here." He was surprised to find her face contort into a pleasant smile. She seemed to find him amusing, or dare I say she find me handsome.

"Oh, please, I enjoy guests—it is so rare that we come upon them, being so far out of the way. The main road through Weptswur runs miles and miles from here. My name is Ghetriel. I am Gerith's sister. What do they call you?"

Vince felt himself blushing. She was much older than him, he saw now. At least fifteen years older, perhaps.

"Oh, pardon me, lady. I figured you were married...to...him. Erm, I am Vince, apprentice to Fintan Feynros here, sleeping beside me." He gave a youthful laugh and peered at his master.

She gave a worried look at Fintan. "I fear for him; he looks quite bloodied. You both could use a bath, no? Here, come inside, we'll get you both cleaned up and have a look at that gash on his leg."

Vince nudged Fintan and awoke from a deep sleep. He murmured something that wasn't quite English and then became startled, forgetting where he was. The two followed Ghetriel inside. She led them to a room upstairs where a large tub was waiting to be filled with water. The tub and the water had to be warmed by the fire first, so the Fintan sat quietly while Vince and Ghetriel talked for a while. It was almost half an hour before the bath was ready, and Vince felt as though she was caught up on their journey almost, roughly. He had left out much of the details, but she had gotten the gist. They were on a journey to visit a man inside the Castle walls of Castle Ranhold of Weptswur. They had come from far away and journeyed through many different lands to get here. When she asked about the scars and scratches, he figured he could tell a half-truth.

"Oh, you know...we fell into a hunter's hole in the woods and a great bear had fallen in before us, so it makes for an awkward encounter. We came out the better obviously, but it wasn't without its wounds and scratches to make up for it." Ghetriel had nodded with a pretty laugh but her eyes told him she knew there was more to it. Her daughter had wandered up the stairs but Ghetriel just told her to stay downstairs while she took care of the guests. Her daughter obeyed but Vince had felt slightly bad that he hadn't at least introduced himself to the young girl. He wondered how intimidating it was to have random guests come inside and grab the attention of the mother-figure of the home.

Ghetriel eyed Vince eerily. He got the feeling she didn't quite believe the story. Vince was about to say something to break the awkward silence, but he had nothing to say. Ghetriel turned towards the water that had been heating and stuck her finger in the water inside the bucket and quickly pulled it out. She muttered something about it being hot as she dumped the large bucket of hot water into the tub and then filled it again and did the same for about four buckets before the large bath tub was filled nice and full. Ghetriel eyed Vince's scratches along his arms and on his face.

"Do you need something for those, the scratches?" Ghetriel was already moving towards a cupboard.

"Erm, if you have something that would be great, lady. Thank you." Vince replied, staring to Fintan for guidance. Fintan was hardly awake, leaned up against a sack of potatoes that sat out of place against a corner of the wall. The upstairs was quite small, only one large room. It had a tub, random assortments of food, a cupboard of medicine and other miscellaneous items. Vince spotted a pile of blankets and towels at the other end of the room that were folded nice and neatly together.

Ghetriel returned with a cloth and some ointment and laid them down by the tub side.

"Would you like me to give you a proper bath? I am more than willing, I do it for Gerith whenever he comes off second best to the goats."

Vince realized this could be bad if Gerith walked in at any moment.

"Lady that is very kind of you, but I think I will be just fine on my own. Are you sure that Gerith would be okay with us in your home? He had made it very clear earlier that we were not come inside the house, and to stay in the stable."

"Oh, don't bugger about him, he's always grumpy these days. Besides, you'll probably be washed up and dried off before he even comes back inside for the day. It is only noon and he usually stays out until sundown." Ghetriel stayed watching as Vince began to strip his clothes.

"Okay, then lady Ghetriel. You are very kind, but I believe it'd be best that I bathe on my own. I cannot express my gratitude enough—"

"—oh, save the thank you's Magi, it is an honor to host such a high order knight. Let me know if you need anything, I'll just be downstairs." She gave one last sidelong glance as Vince removed his undergarments and then made for downstairs. Vince noticed Fintan had fallen into a deep sleep again and his snoring was louder than the pigs outside. Vince stepped his feet into the scalding hot bath and felt his scraped legs sting incredibly in the steeping hot water. He winced at the sting, but it felt oddly good. He lowered himself in slowly, enjoying every moment inside the warm tub.

He finished rinsing and cleaning his body with the soap that Ghetriel had laid out on the ground when he felt the first signs. Lightheadedness and nausea took over his body and he nearly retched right there in the tub. His fingers went to the string that held the Dragon Tusk across his chest. He grasped the tusk and closed his eyes, and he travelled to a faraway place. Far and far from here—back in the Carnakanes.

He was soaring on the back of the dragon again. His body was loose and alive. The wind felt so freeing as it cooled his body amidst the dragon's hot body. He could tell the dragon was aching. He remembered the great crash he had suffered when he was in pursuit of Egalo a week or so prior. The dragon had no visible signs of damage, but it wheezed slightly as its great powerful lungs heaved large breaths.

The dragon soared through dark stormy clouds and over the orange sands of the Carnakane deserts. His belly took in a huge breath that almost knocked Vince off from the expansion of the dragon's belly, and then it released a blood-curdling scream that sent Vince's back four legs flailing helplessly in the wind—the only things keeping him on the dragon were his front claws that gripped the dragon's spikes along its spine. His grip was about to slip, and the scream stopped, and he felt his body drop back to the base of the gigantic monster.

What was that about? Where are we going? Vince knew the dragon could hear his thought, and the reply was nothing short of snippy.

"A dragon must communicate with other dragons. You should know, you don't shut your mouth all day. We head to the Gotzmur Tower. Master is calling us in."

Vince was wondering how he had known he was being called in and the dragon answered that instantly.

"The master blew the Gotzmur horn, a sound only my ears can here. I hear most everything, but the transmission of the Ertorin stone, a sound forbidden for my ears."

Vince did not reply, but instead glanced over the landscape below where dunes eloquently overlapped and the sands rippled in the wind. Drifts of sandstorm floated aimlessly across the desert land in the wind. It was sure to blind anyone who dared to travel in those conditions. Good thing a dragon rides high in the sky.

The sand below turned to yellow sands, and soon it was the tall golden meadows that swayed lightly in the winds below. The meadows—the true separation of the realm from the forbidden beauty of Mestrane. Such a shame that is was a beauty no longer, and instead its mystique and powers used for selfish ambitions and an evil being.

"The master looks forward to meeting you. He has been waiting a long time."

Vince was taken aback, what master? I already have a master and he's certainly not in Mestrane.

"Don't be foolish. It is Ral'tor that awaits your presence. Only a handful of men have met his grace. Hold on to the tusk you stole from my kind. You will need it so that you can keep your humanly form and avoid evaporating into mist like the last one."

Vince was about to ask who the last one was, and he was lost for words when the dragon's wings glided them over the last mountain top and through the thick of the black clouds and into the dimly lit world of Mestrane. Towers as tall as the skies littered the blackened land like trees in a forest. Countless thousands of Maldurians worked below, hacking at stone with picks and axes. They stopped their work to look up at the cause for the darkness amongst the sky, returning to work when they saw it was the mighty dragon. Vince saw creatures on tall hind legs with large red and gold capes whipping the Maldurians that failed to maintain focus on the task at hands—as axes slammed into stone creating a harmonic ringing through the air.

"Don't feel pitiful for them. They were created for that purpose—to bend others to Ral'tors will. They live for their purple whips and their hideous capes."

Vince dared not tell him what he thought of the Maldur. They were the ones he felt for. In the mind of the dragon, Rhal, there was no such thing as feeling bad for the Maldur. The Maldur were the enemy. He wondered what that made him think of humans. He dared not ask.

Once they had gotten beyond the tall towers, they rode past an immaculate Castle that rose over two hundred feet high and its walls encompassed over triple the span of the dragon—Vince had never seen such an immense castle...he was not sure it was even a castle.

"It is not a castle, idiot. That would be the labs of sorcery. Creations and beings are formed within those walls and trained to obey Ral'tor. That is where the dragonfolk are made."

Vince felt his head pounding now and a sharp scream filled his head. He was getting closer to the Gotzmur tower.

"You can hear what I hear, we are bound now because of the dragon tusk. You are one with it, so you are one with me."

Vince hated it with all his being. The scream was what was making his head ache so horribly, he could not take it. Time warped and twisted, and through an odd bend in time Vince found himself standing on all fours with his two upper limbs stretched out in front of him. He felt his cape fluttering behind him and he was standing before an army of Orc and dragonfolk below. They littered the black sands of Gotzmur like the grains of sand themselves. Vince realized that he was standing before an entire species. The Orc had enslaved themselves at will to Ral'tor, but they had been frozen in dormancy under the great curse. Many doubted the existence of the race, but here was he was. Thousands upon thousands of Orcs stood below him. Standing upon rocks that rose them on a pedestal above the Orc were the dragonfolk. Half dragon. Half man. He could not make out the details of their faces or features but could tell by their jagged, wicked tails that hung down their backs.

The worst part yet sent a jolt through his body. He could feel his eyes on him before he turned. Standing at eye level on the platform of the dragon was Ral'tor himself. Vince had no idea what creature he was looking at, but the sight of him was enough to freeze him on his hind legs upon the Rhal's scaly back. His feet began to burn from the intense heat of the dragon's scaly body. His limbs were paralyzed, and he could not prevent his body from swaying backward as he lost all control of his body—that wasn't really his body. He was falling backward, and soon he was falling through the air, down towards the ground where thousands of Orcs waited for his body to land. Ral'tor's eyes never left him as he fell, and it was the longest fall he had ever known. Time was different.

He jumped up to his feet from the bath tub, splashing water everything and soaking the floor around him. Fintan and Ghetriel were standing with mouths open, and hands out stretched in case he needed support, but more in shock than anything.

"Are you okay?" Ghetriel asked.

"You were shaking violently for like ten minutes straight, Vince. Are you sure you're okay?" Fintan was wide awake now, a look of concern spread upon his face.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Just a bad dream. I think I need more sleep honestly." He became aware that he was standing there naked and reached for one of the towels that was sitting on the ground to his left outside the tub.

He finished cleaning off and it was Fintan's turn to bathe. Vince left Fintan alone, heading downstairs to regroup himself from the vision. The Dragon Tusk was very warm to the touch. He stared at it curiously. What an odd item. I hope what I am seeing is not real. I cannot go there, ever. What a terrible place.

Upstairs Fintan was helpless to clean himself, so he gladly accepted the help of Ghetriel who scrubbed him head to toe like a child. Fintan sat and stared lifelessly. His eyes were lost, somewhere else. He did not so much emit a single yelp or even wince when Ghetriel went over his facial wound with soap and medicine.

The next time Fintan spoke was many hours later. He was dressed in old wool and a crusty old fur over top for warmth. Vince was dressed similarly, and they had resumed their position in the stables atop the hay stack. Ghetriel had begged them to stay inside and rest in her bed for the night, and she would gladly sleep on the floor, but Vince had insisted they return to the stables before Gerith had even known they had been inside. They were to be gone by sunrise, and he didn't want to test the man. He had seen enough sharpness from him to know he would take no small deed to test his temper.

"Cold." The first and only word Fintan spoke of the night resonated well with Vince. Vince and Fintan lay close that night, covering themselves with their cloak and ignoring the itching and poking of hay as best they could. Before long, they were drifting off to sleep in the night to the sound of pigs snorting, horses neighing, goats bleating, and Fintan snoring—the loudest sound of them all.