Chapter 37

This is it, Rhen. This is it.

What?

"Shut up, boy." Galahad ordered, stabbing the sorcerer's stomach with his elbow. Lars talked too much for his own good. And his loud voice echoed trough the Stronghold Temple, awakening the walls. In a very threatening manner. Elini sighed, troubled, taking the lead and shoving the golden metal door open, retrieving the key and muttering a "Move already".

Neither of them wanted to think. There was nothing to think about. Only observe and note events that occurred.

Rhen rushed her pace and overcame Elini, taking the lead. She could not look on either sides of her; there was a bottomless abyss and she could suddenly start to feel height-sick. That wasn't to be very nice, for the whole world to refer to her as "the-hero-who-threw-up-before-even-facing-the-evil". So she only looked straight ahead, noticing only the odd creatures before her. The mass of wyverns stopped their activities and slid aside their way, keeping somewhat of a distance. The fence of dark blue wyverns that conjured their left and right was broken from time to time by some tall females that grew black feathery wings on their backs and wore long dresses to match their flowing hair.

From time to time, a wyvern was extending its long neck, as if to bite, but retreated shortly after when being noticed. It was horrible.

"I don't like the look of this." Lars stated, looking at the large entrance that was blocked by a large group of nightmare angels and wyverns.

"Shht!" Te'ijal ordered, looking at the crowd of creatures that started to shuffle and move out of the way, positioning theirselves on either sides.

Not nice.

What followed was a blur. Inside the castle were neeveranes walking around, with their small, black wings and blindfolded, holding the chains that ended in collars around the wingless black griffins' necks. Lars heard about those: neeveranes were blind female creatures and oolguns were black wingless and griffin-like. The road to the throne was longer than an eternity and the large door that blocked their way was heavier than 1000 pounds. Not even Galahad alone could push it; not even them all could.

A neeverane that pushed the massive door open with one hand put Galahad to shame. As if things weren't going bad enough. They blurred even more.

A glimpse of the guardians in their animal forms looking absolutely miserable. One white tiger was struggling to get free from the chains but failed everytime and one brown wolf was throwing threatening looks at Rhen. The animals were all transported to another chamber.

Some magical rings from a set of bells hanging all around the room breaking the silence... Four demons were there, but Indra wasn't. And on a throne was a shadow.

Dameon was sitting next to Ahriman. He was almost looking defiantly while his father started speaking in a manner that made everyone turn pale. Options over options and threatens over threatens. He seemed to have been talking forever. Elini noticed that while Ahriman was talking, his troops were gathering around in the chamber or poking their heads out of the numerous window-ish holes that the high room possessed, which was something worrysome.

That was to be another threat. Considering the option where they were to be outnumbered. And die a miserable death or if the masters of evil are in good moods, be locked forever in a dark, deep dungeon filled with the bones of the ones who died after screaming their life out of their lungs, asking for help. Yelling for help. But no one ever heard them.

That was not a nice option.

Eternity without aging -and without wondering how would she look at 362 years old-, endless amounts of power, her friends being safe, living with Dameon and his father and ruling the world under the dark wings of justice and treasure. Lots and lots of treasure. 'It comes with the rule of the world' Dameon said at one point. Very tempting, very, very tempting. And her finding out about her origins, her real family.

"What real family!" Rhen suddenly shouted, a painful knot forming in her throat. A wave of emotions came past her and she suddenly felt nostalgia for remembering her life back in Clearwater.

"Part of the bargain..." Ahriman muttered, grinning under his hood.

Rhen looked down, holding the tears from streaming down her cheeks, her heart aching. She then looked at the others. Firstly at Lars, who had a tense expression.

"At your command, my troops will escort your friends outside of the castle and you will follow my son to your room. Remember about the eternity!"

"Give me one minute." She whispered, spun around and walked directly to Lars, under the thousand of glares. Her entire body was shivery and the look in Lars' green eyes weren't helping at all. Then it happened; she started weeping quietly while exchanging whispers with Lars in less than ten seconds, but it seemed ten decades. The others could hear too, but interaction from them all would have made it worse.

"What do I do?" She stammered.

"It doesn't matter anymore..."

"Well?"

She eyed the figure on the throne and inhaled deeply, walking away from her companions in a quiet manner. The little magical bells were ringing softly...

"Do it!"

The troops flew through the holes and gathered around the group, grabbing them by everything they could reach. Lars fought trough the crowd of creatures while shouting Rhen's name, kicking and punching. Until he grabbed an arm that was softer than the others, rationalizing and pulling. He looked in Rhen's deep purple eyes with an ironic grin and gave her a hug in the mass of shuffling claws, hands, chains and feathers.

"You'll miss me." Lars whispered before forcing their lips together for a couple of seconds. "See you soon." He added, letting go of her and being dragged by the claws and hands to the exit.

Lars wakes up from his noon slumber and wastes one more half an hour in his bed. He stands up and leaves his room, ignores his mother that insists on feeding him some mud that she calls chicken soup and exits the house. Slaves are still roaming the roads of Ghalarah. Yuck. Lars still feels like kicking them aside.

There's his dragon. Rampadel.

Lars never understood that weird naming sense of Rhen's. Oh, now he thought about her again. Great.

He changes Rampadel's bandages around his wing and proceeds to the exit of the city, bumping on purpose in some slaves on his way there. The spilled grains make him happy and powerful now. Only now.

Who knows what holds tomorrow? Maybe he will start writing spells. Maybe his dragon won't make it through and he will have to kill him to cease his pain and then collect his scaled, expensive skin. He will write his spells on it. And then pack them in a separate storage area, for dragon scales are more durable than paper.

Or so he thinks.

Of course they will be more durable; there is magic written on them. Magic written with dragon scales. That sounds nice for a title of a spell book. Necromancer Derez will help him out with that.

But he's thought too much; he almost reached Veldarah.

Looking at the sun covered in clouds, he feels nostalgic. Yes, he will write a spell book. Called "Magic written with dragon scales". For money is what concerns him now. And Rhen. That is all.

WILL BE CONTINUED

…...

Just as a side note, I felt like I wrote in Margaret Atwood's style at the end. Just sayin'

Well, then, this is the end of Magic written with dragon scales. It was extreme fun for me to write it. I hope that you enjoyed it. It will be continued in Remember the magic, as many of you know.

I just need to tell you that Remember The Magic will be somewhat violent. I felt like letting you know from now.

Well, then, I have another story to plot now. Good night and thank you for reading.

"Magic written with dragon scales"

brought to you by the headless, wine-loving

Wolphie

To the next ones!

Cheers~