It is still raining when the shadowy walls of the town of Adrilaine. Miranda pulls back the hood of her cloak, borrowed from Raith, who sits just ahead of her on Sleet, the hood of his cloak glistening in the soft drizzle. The man sits perfectly still, as if listening to something, and in a fit of anger, Miranda pushes her horse up beside Sleet, her gelding also borrowed from the odd man. She glances at him, having gotten no answers from him since that first night. She had awakened the next morning to find him awake, seated in a chair in a lonely corner with only Coyn and an elaborate glass of wine for company.

"You've been up all night," she'd stated.

He'd nodded to her, swirling the liquid and looking at it. "I have."

"And drinking."

"Right again."

She'd scowled then, for no real reason she knew of. "You're drunk."

He'd laughed at her, which had grated, still did. "No, only wishing I was, now get ready."

That had been pretty much the last bit of semi-intelligent conversation they'd had. Now she sits in the rain, quiet. She looks at him. "What are you doing?"

He glances at her a moment, silver eyes flashing a little bit in the moonlight as it peeks through the thinning clouds. "Thinking." He pauses, then wheels Sleet, pulling the horse into a thick growth of trees. He dismounts, tying the reins about the saddle horn in a loose knot, then taking the reins from Miranda and doing the same with her horse. "From here, on foot," he says and leads the way towards the walls of the town.

Miranda looks about her, at the close, damp walls. She can see little beyond an occasional flash of silver as Raith looks back at her, both those are few and far between, leaving her usually in total darkness as they ascend a staircase from the door he had led them through. They'd been following this path for what seemed like hours. Miranda looks about her again, knowing she's only allowing the darkness to get to her, that it has only actually been a matter of fifteen minutes or so. She craches into Raith's back and draws a muffled curse from him. She almost laughs, but he turns and glares at her, making a few hand gestures to tell her to be silent and stay put. He slips out of the narrow passage and into the central courtyard, allowing her a clear view of what waits for them. Her jaws drops.

The guards are immobile. They stand, all six of them,blind and deaf to the form moving closer to them, and Miranda only guesses they've been spelled. Raith steps by them with only a cursory glance, pulling the hood back from his face. He sighs. "Tebron."

The big gold tries to lift his head, but thanks to the network of hains wrapped over and around him, cannot. A massive golden eye rolls and looks towards the human as Raith walks without fear or hesitation to the dragon's head, laying a hand on Tebron's snout. The big gold snorts a soft greeting. "Did not take you long."

Raith sighs. "You thought it would?" he asks, then pauses, looking back to where Miranda is standing, well out in the open, her hands clasped in front of her. "Why her, my lord?"

The gold seems to almost chuckle, then sobers, eyes closing a moment. "Raith, you can't remain as close as you are," he says, the voice low, grating, a holding a very slight melodic tone. "They know you exist, know you're about." His lips curl up in a draconic smile. "And you've turned out so....so well, I cannot risk them catching you."

Miranda watches, wringing her fingers nervously. She'd seen the draon a few nights before, but he had no been chained, had come to her of his own accord. Somehow it hurts her like a brand to her heart to see the great beast restrained. She looks around, half tempted to throw something at the frozen guards for chaining him.

Raith looks at the chains and steps back, his fingertips glowing blue. A shot of azure lightning streaks to the chains and wraps about them, working into the locks. The it fizzles out ineffectually. Raith glares at his hands and the chains, cursing. "What...??"

The old gold sighs. "They also know your tricks now."

The man glares at the massive dragon. "So I'll come up with new ones."

The dragon growls, rolling his eye towards the man. "This is NOT why I requested you, Raith." He sighs. "They'll kill me. Such is life. but a RED, female for that, won't be able to take my place. Not without half the clans turning on her."

Raith's face darkens. "I don't need to hear this right now."

The big dragon lunges against his chains and Miranda jumps back, but Raith stands his ground, face to snout with the huge gold. "You WILL listen! Lest the clans fall apart and we ALL die!" he hisses. The gold settles himself, noting that his struggles only serve to make the chains tighten about him, as they were designed to do. "Raith, they have a mage after you now. Use no magic when you can avoid it, please, lest he capture you." Tebron sighs a bit. "The clans are gathered about, hiding, but they're here. Your mother among them. She'll need a silver by her side if she's ever to survive this, Raith."

Raith scowls again, pacing a little bit. "I don---"

Tebron roars in rage, cutting Raith off and making both humans jump. Miranda looks at the gold and it hisses. "Go now, demons damn his timing! Raith, just remember, Temra will need you more than anything. Run! He comes!"

Raith throws the dragon a hostile glare, then spins on his heel and grabs Miranda, hauling her into the shadows of a doorway, their footprints washed away by the rain. He claps his hand over her mouth as four new guards an another figure, robed heavily in black, come to stand before the dragon. The robed figure laughs.

"He was here, hm, old one?" a gnarled white hand strokes Tebron's snout and the dragon looks quite tempted to try and snap. The wizard laughs and turns his head to one of the guardsmen. "Tell me, Captain, are all of your men blind, deaf, and paralyzed as these fine examples are?"

The guardsman looks nothing short of confused. "What, ser?"

The man walks to the first set of guards and kicks one of them and yells. "I trust you didn't pick this lot on their superior guard qualities? Or should I assume it safe to say we were just visited by a certain friend of ser dragon here? Tell me, gold, was Raith here? Hm?"

Tebron snarls.

Mercail, the figure in black, laughs. "I take that as a yes?" He looks around them. "Is he still around, my old friend? Hm? Is your little savior lurking about somewhere?"

A few of the guards grumble to each other and when Mercail looks at them, one shyly states "Half-dragons can't exist."

Mercail laughs. "They can, you naive fool, and one does."

One of them snickers. "Musta been interesting...."

Mercail's face darkens and the man is lifted from the ground and held a few feet in the air. "You stupid man, the bitch shifted and mated, THEN shifted back! Fool!" he bellows and drops the guard back to earth, seeming to calm himself. "So? Where is he? Raith!!! Oh...Raaaaith!!"

Raith scowls from his place, removing his hand from miranda's mouth as he watches. He knows he dare not use magic lest he be found, it is an easy enough trick to home in on a magical source. Miranda looks back at him a moment, but says nothing as the man watches. She narrows her eyes, thinking of all she just heard, and thinking about some things in the conversation that may have well been slips of the tongue, but somehow don't seem to be, and don't make sense.

Mercail looks around as the guards try to figure out how to free their comrades. "You have the little tart with you, Raith? Cute little thing, is she not? I almost had you the other night when you healed her, perhaps next time my henchmen shall main her, or kill, make you use a little more magic," he calls and laughs. "Tugs at your heartstrings, doesn't she?"

Raith's eyes narrow and he grumbles under his breath. Mercail pauses and looks around, as if hearing him. Miranda stills, wondering how such a thing is possible, since she herself barely heard him make a sound, and could not even discern what he said, and Raith stands not a foot behind her.

"What of Mommy, my half-breed prize? She about? I would so love to have a red dragoness in my collection. Along with a silver, of course. Oh. Does Miranda know of that yet? hm. I think you should tell her, Raith. Take her home, meet mom, before I capture her, of course."

"Enough..." Raith hisses and Miranda jumps a little bit, feeling the skin of his arm, even through the fabric of his shirt, harden, toughen. Mercail's head snaps around and he points to their doorway. Raith snarls out a venehement curse and yanks her away from the door, taking off in a dead run.

"There!" Mercail barks and watches as more than ten guards run towards the appointed doorway. He knows more will wait for his two prizes wherever they run, so he goes about slowly preparing a spell, his fingers glittering a mellow, malignantly "alive" golden.

Raith suddenly realizes they're being herded. They'd met guards at all of their exits, leaving the stairs their only way out, and now were running along the wall. He stops them, looking around, and ducks, staying out of Mercail's sight as the wizard laughs. Raith slams his foot down on an access door that opens to allow more guards through. Miranda shrieks and looks around them. "Raith...um...."

He scowls darkly. Guards from the front and back, herded up here where that damned mage can get at him. He looks at Miranda. "Jump."

Her eyes widen. "WHAT? You're insane!"

He frowns. "Now is not the time to discuss my sanity. Go!" To further his point, he straightens for a moment and gives her a hard shove. She backpedals and trips over the edge stone, tumbling into the darkness, screaming. Raith stands and looks down at Mercail as the glow about the mage's hands increases. Just as the ball leaves Mercail's hands, streaking through the night much like a shooting star, Raith spreads his arms wide and laughs at Mercail, then jumps backwards off the wall......

(Mercail's Castle)

The boy glances upwards, above a small, cast-iron pot from which issues plumes of green steam. He looks to be only twelve or so, and has a rather dull, simple-minded look about him. His eyes glitter a steel blue under a mop of sandy blond hair. He brushes it out of his eyes and looks at the door, where two ghostly green dragons, each about the size of a kitten, sit by the door, ready to warn him of anyone's approach to the seaside castle.

Mercail had chosen the spot well, using magic to carve his magnificent lair out of solid rock, built into the towering boulders that make up the seaside cliffs along the Great Central Sea. Ethan looks out the window to his left, across the ocean. He smiles a bit to himself and says a few short words. Another little ghost-dragon bursts into being above the pot and it flutters about without command. He orders it to the window, dumps the pot's contents on the floor, and looks at them. "begone," he says to himself and the contents, and they burn, leaving nothing on the floor to ever mark their existence. He grumbles and walks over to the shelves along the wall, his pudgy legs moving as fast as they can to keep up with the too-long upper body. The boy crawls onto the shelf and begins sorting through the various herbs and spell components belonging to Mercail, placing them each within a wad of beeswax to keep them from touching and to keep them safe, preserved. He wraps his small fingers about a piece of flameroot when one of the dragons at the door squeals and poofs out of sight. The boy jumps down and snatches his broom and mop, slopping water a bit as he hooks the bucket's rope on his foot, shoving it a few feet towards the door.

The door bursts open, smacking Ethan full in the face, snapping the broom handle, and sending the water in the bucket flying. Mercail shrieks and before the water can touch and ruin any of his precious scrolls, he casts and it freezes in midair, then splashes harmlessly to the floor. He glares at Ethan, the boy sitting on the floor, his fingers pinching his nostrils shut to stanch the flow of blood. Mercail could have sworn the boy had given him a very dirty look the moment the wizard's eyes fell on him. "Get out, boy."

Ethan scuttles out the door and out the hall, his feet shuffling on the stone floor. As soon as he is gone the bleeding stops and he scowls a bit to himself.

Mercail glowers, looking at the door. He mutters something and a glowing line of magic appears along the far wall, tracing the outline of a door, which swings open on silent hinges to permit the wizard passage. As soon as he is through, the stony door swings shut again and seals without a trace.

Mercail walks down a long passage, many windows along his left, allowing sunlight and a breathtaking view of the sea through the rocky walls. He clasps his hands behind his back, walking along the hall to an open archway on his right, the archway made of strong wooden beams carefully cut and placed. He walks under them, and a blue line of fire shoots along the wall, illuminating the interior of the room.

Within rest his gems, his collection. Along both walls of the massive room are jewelled beasts, including his prizes, twin dragons, made now of obsidian and ruby. He taps the face of the one on his right, feeling a rush of hatred from the thing, of sheer madness and struggle. He chuckles to himself and taps the shining face. "Oh don't be angry...." He walks away from the two guards at the doorway, heading down the center of the "trophy room". Some of the animals within were the last of their kind. In capturing them, turning them to stone, gems, Mercail considers their entrapment a favor. He looks at a huge equine, it's beautifully muscled body a glistening alabaster, his mane and tail shimmering strands of emeralds, his horn freshly polished gold. As he touches the unicorn's face, staring into sapphire eyes, there is no rush of emotion, nothing but a hollow shell containing a thoroughly mad soul. Nothing left of the proud being that used to be there. He frowns a little bit to himself. "Lose their luster after that," he quips in a hushed tone and continues along the wall, looking at the myriad of beasts. Anything from a half-score of dragons and dragon-kin, to unicorns and pegasi, one amber and grey-marble kirre, several aurumvorax and kits, and a variety of others, their souls in various stages of decay. The twin black dragons at the head of the room, obviously both young beasts due to their size of body, remain perhaps the most alive. Mercail smiles at them. It was quite a trick capturing them both. And changing them both before the other got loose. He smiles and walks out as the fire along the walls diminishes. "Goodnight my beauties," he says and makes his way out the door and down the hallway again.

Ethan watches the wizard. A scowl creases the young boy's face and he slips along the sides of the hallway, following, as an unseen creature goes about doing chores that belong to Ethan. He casts a look at Mercail's back, then darts within the trophy room. The boy reaches out and touches the twin snouts of the blacks and instead of hate, he feels an affectionate jolt sing through his veins. The boy looks at the door and obscures himself, so that should Mercail come back, he would be unseen through both normal and magical vision. The bay looks at the dragons again and takes a step back, bowing his head a little bit. His legs lengthen, becoming long and strong, straight. His back straightens to a smooth, flowing curve, his middle shrinks a bit and tightens, arms getting longer, corded with muscle. His hair darkens to some nondescript shade of brown, as do his blue eyes. The man looks about him and smiles at the animals. He appears to them as he always has, a man in his late fifties, just showing a little grey in his hair, delicate lines lacing about his face.

Ethan walks on light feet down the same path his "master" had only minutes before, his steps long and silent upon the wood floors. Kind eyes look out at the animals and he pauses, looking at one of the beasts, the very same unicorn Mercail had dismissed for dead. Ethan pulls out a small gem from his pocket and looks at it, turning the ruby over in his old hands. He smiles a bit to himself, the gesture just curling the edges of his mouth and he places a hand on the unicorn's horn. The old mage tightens, his body tensing as a blueish light curls about the beast, wrapping about it like mist, then traveling through his arm, through HIM, to the gem in his hand. After several moments, the ruby glittering with crackling, palatable energy, and Ethan removes his hand from the statue. He looks at the ruby then at the statue. "One more down," the mage mutters to himself and wonders why he doesn't simply kill Mercail and free the rest of them.

He shrugs to himself and whistles a light tune to himself as he walks all along the room, looking for the next likely candidate. A small, glittering lizard slips in through the door and to him, though he remains invisible, and sits up on its hind legs. "Hello Rubi," he says quietly. Ethan drops the ruby into the little lizard's paws and watches it scamper out to "implant" the remaining soul of the unicorn into a wild horse mare. The man sighs. Not the best route he could take, but the safest. It would not be good for any of them, Ethan or the animals, if Mercail found out what and who his clumsy, simple boy really was. As Ethan walks out the door, he looks again at the black dragons. The poor things would have to remain. They were, for the time, Mercail's favorites, so they would have to endure being trapped for a while longer. He touches each sculpted muzzle once more and leaves, shimmering back into his boyish form as he walks out the door. The boy looks about him with a look of unease, then vanishes, reappearing far away, on the other side of the castle, mopping.