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				CORE OF DARKNESS
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AUTHOR'S FOREWARNING

	I wrote this story originally in the summer of 1993, simply to
honor my dragon friends by including them in a story.  As such, I didn't
really do very much preparation work before starting.  I didn't really
even have a plot until almost a third of the way through it.  Also, since
I was writing this pretty much "on-the- fly" in installments (hence the
uniform length of many of the segments) on the Prodigy (dis)Service, I
wasn't able to revise or correct spelling or any of the other
perfectionistic but necessary things I would normally do.  It was all in
fun. It was not written with any sort of permission from Origin, or
anything of the sort, so I could be in biiiig trouble already. :)
	However, as I wrote, I began creating and fleshing out Dragon
society and history, to the point that when I was done, I had a fairly
detailed past history.  I recognized the need (and many of the Dragons
wanted me to do this) to write a more involved, more coherent sequel.  I
gave a few attempts, but didn't really have any ideas.  So, as the Prodigy
Dragons tore themselves apart (myself included), I basically didn't do
anything with it.
	Then, I started feeling guilty.  I had promised a story.  Even if
there was only a scant few left to read it, I would write a story worthy
of a Dragon story.  I would cover nearly two hundred years of history,
both Britannian and Dragon, and in doing so, tie up together a lot of the
ideas both contained in and derived from my first story.  So I'm writing
that.  Perhaps, by Spring 1995, I shall be done.
	Until then, I promised Ethereal Dragon that I would contribute the
original story for inclusion in the Ultima Dragons Internet Chapter FTP
site (ftp.netcom.com /pub/sbrindle/ud/) as a piece of Dragon memorabilia
for all Dragons to read and enjoy.  Before sending it, I have attempted to
edit and patch it together as best as possible, but since it was mostly
just "something that seemed a good idea at the time," no attempt is made
to really fix up major plot loopholes and obscurities (in fact, a lot of
this story is directly contradicted by the sequel-in-progress), or to
explain many of the Dragon inside jokes.  If you want details on those,
feel free to ask me personally.
	Oh, and BTW -- I wholeheartedly apologize for the scroll bit
towards the end of the story...it was such a cliche, but then, what isn't?
	So, without further ado, I present to all of you the original... 

Monomolecular Dragon
    -==(UDIC)==-
Barry Ramirez, 10-25-1994
bramirez@cap.gwu.edu

				* C O R E *
				  * O F *
			    * D A R K N E S S *

			     by Barry Ramirez

I

	Britannia.  Ten months after the Avatar's triumph in the mystery
of the Fellowship Murders, and the defeat of the Guardian on the Isle of
the Avatar. 
	The midmorning sun shone on the mountains; large, grey, capped
with white.  Halfway up the side of the range a large window, hewn of grey
stone, looked out on the valley below.
	Inside the chamber, the dragon stirred and rolled out of his
pallet.  Sleepily shuffling over to the window, he opened his large eyes
and looked out.  Far away, across woods and farms, lay the great man-city
of Britain; the sea could be seen on the horizon.  There was not a cloud
in the sky.
	Nameless Dragon yawned and scanned the sky again, his gaze fixing
on moving black dot.  Swiftly, the dot took on wings, and the large, shiny
black dragon soared past the window with a ululating cry of arrival.
	Hastily tripping and half-gliding down the wide stone angleshaft
to the central cavern, Nameless echoed the other dragon's cry.  Scaly
heads, more curious than annoyed, poked out of doors.
	"Brethren returns to the weyr," Nameless screamed as he flopped to
a stop in the cavern.
	"Who?" asked a particularly graceful female dragon as she half-flew
out of another passage.
	"Monomolecular!"
	"Oh, he's back," yawned another dragon, still half-dozing.  "'Bout
time." 
	Nameless flicked Pooglian's snout with a wingtip, waking the
sleepy dragon with a cry of surprise.  "He is kin," Nameless grated.  "He
has been gone for a week.  We must greet him."
	The light streaming through the great shaft cut into the east face
of the cavern was partially blocked by a dark, winged shape. 
Monomolecular Dragon glided down the angled passage that was the weyr's
main entrance. With a furious backflapping of blue wings the dragon came
to a stop on the sandy floor.  "Yes, greet me!" he said as many snouts
prodded him in welcome; loud, hot dragon kisses.  His nostrils flared
slightly as he detected the markscent of one dragon in particular he
needed to speak to.
	"Tell us of thy journey," said the Lady Dragon. 
	Monomolecular waved her off with a listless flap of a wing.  "In
due time, Lady.  I have an urgent matter I need to discuss with Karma
now."  With a monstrous downstroke Mono jumped over the dragons and landed
next to Karma, who shuffled off to a corner of the cavern.  "Yes, Mono?" 
	Mono licked his lips nervously.  "A discovery.  Not far to the
west of here."  He paused.  "A cave in the hills.  Ringstones.  I found a
black moongate." 

II
                                                            
	They were seated around the great stone table in the ancient part
of the cavern.  Spectacle Dragon grimaced at the parchment before
speaking.  "Art thou sure there is a moongate at this location?"  He
tapped the map with one long claw.
	"By the breath of Rikkh'et, I swear," said Mono.  Spec looked down
at the paper again, then flicked it to the dragon next to him.  Umbrae
read it in silence, then passed it to Karma.  After a few moments of
silence, Karma spoke up.  "Please leave the chambers, Monomolecular.  We
shall decide what action to take, if any."
	Mono stood, squawked briefly in respect, and ducked out of the
chamber.  He walked down the hallway, then fell out of the mouth into the
main weyr, wings unfolding in midfall.
	The main weyr was roughly a thousand feet across; shaped like an
inverted cone, capped with rock.  Every few lengths along the walls was
another such hole; a few led into other passages but most led into the
private weyrs of other dragons.  The shaft continued down for almost twice
it's width, ending at the aquifer level and the natural spring.
	"Mono?" It was Pooglian.
	"Hello," replied Mono as he continued a circular slowglide down to
his porch.  "Come inside."
	"Honored," he replied.  Couching himself on a small pallet of
heather, Pooglian ruffled his wings before speaking.  "Is it true?  Is
there a black moongate?"
	"I saw it with mine own eyes," Mono replied.  "A black slab, larger
than a man but smaller than a dragon.  Ringstones of a very strange rock,
carved with runes."
	"Where?  On the other side of the Serpent's Spine?"
	Mono shook his head, black scales glinting in the torchlight.  "I
am under oath not to reveal the location, friend.  The Council is voting
as we speak."
	"Ugh."
	"I know what thou dost mean," Mono brayed back.  "I hate votes. 
The results are announced, someone gets miffed, and suddenly everybody is
quarreling and leaving the weyr."  He sighed.  "Maybe I'll go away for a
while.  Hide."  He smiled up at his friend.  "Maybe I'll go visit Whisper
and Grignard."
	"Very brave.  Eat well before thou dost go," Pooglian smirked. 

				-==O==-

	Aiel Dragon folded his wings on Grignard's porch, stepping out of
the cavernous shaft into the cozy chambers of Grignard's weyr.  A few
personal effects scattered the shelves.
	"Grig?  Whisper?" he called.  There was a momentary silence, then a
giggle and whispers from the next room.
	"Am I disturbing thee?"
	"Nay," replied Whisper.  "We were just comparing who loves each
other more."  She turned to her new husband.  "And dear, I love thee."
	"I love thee more."
	"I love thee more than thee."
	"I love thee more than that."
	"Thou art a frog."
	"Nay, I am a toad," Grignard laughed.  "A Grigtoad."
	Aiel sat down and looked at the two lovers.  He shuddered when he
realized he had come in time for dinner. 

III

	"Am I interrupting the two of thee?" crackled Aiel as he shifted
his weight.
	"Greetings, friend Aiel," said Whisper as she scooped scum out of a
pot.  "Sit, and enjoy my presence."
	Aiel looked at Grignard, who only shrugged.  "Why aren't thou
cooking," he asked.  Grignard blinked his eyes slowly, smiling.  "My love
wanted to.  I'm on a break."
	Aiel made a quick, mocking choking sound.  "Ack.  'My love?' I'm
leaving."
	"Why?" replied Grignard, equally deadpan.  "There are no balls of
cotton here."  He had trouble keeping a straight face, and a thin tendril
of smoke curled out of his smile.
	'Not funny," growled Aiel as Whisper plunked a stone bowl down in
front of him.  "Apologies," she said.  "Have some stew?"
	Aiel looked quickly from Whisper to Grignard and back again. 
Grignard quickly shook his head; Whisper didn't notice.  "Why?" Aiel
drawled.  He gulped.  "Art thou cooking it?"
	"Yes, I am!" replied Whisper, somewhat proudly.  Aiel made a soft
gagging noise and backed away from the table.  "I, uh, I ate already."
	"Liar," Whisper spat into the stew -- making Aiel retreat even
further toward the door.  "Thou art afraid it will poison thee.  Admit
it."
	Aiel blinked rapidly and kept shuffling backwards into the outer
room.  "I...er, have pressing engagements elsewhere.  Ur...toodaloo,"
Aiel grumbled.  He smiled pleasantly, then walked toward the porch, then
ran, then leapt off the edge and out of sight.  Whisper thunked the spoon
into the pot and shot a cold look at Grignard.
	"What?" he whined.
	"Thou art my mate," she hissed.  "I must provide for thee."  She
paused.  "Thou WILT eat my stew.  All of it."  She smiled and poked
Grignard's forearm with one beautifully curved claw.  "I want no
leftovers," she smiled.
	"Ulp." 

				-==O==-

	The Grand Council of Dragons met in an isolated set of chambers
near the top of the main weyr.  The chambers resembled a human hand, with
the large central meeting chamber in the center and five small chambers
radiating outward from it.  The central chamber was connected to the main
weyr by a short, curving passage that opened out onto a large
landing-porch on the inside face of the main weyr.  Pausing somewhat
excitedly on the porch, Mono spread his wings and dove off, letting
gravity increase his speed, then pulled up to land on a porch almost
directly opposite.  It was the door to <G>remlin Dragon's weyr.  Folding
his wings he walked inside and explained the result of the meeting.
	<G>remlin listened and agreed to come.  He followed Mono out as he
flew over to Mithril Dragon's house.  Soon, Rift Dragon, Singular Dragon,
and Dark Vengeance Dragon all followed.  They arced through the air, up to
the very top of the weyr, and glided into the entrance chamber.  All
landed and folded their wings.  Mono cleared his throat.
	"The Grand Council has ordered me to investigate the moongate. 
They gave me freedom to choose my companions.  So I picked all of thee." 

IV

	"Why me?" coughed Vengeance as he carefully examined his
dragonsword in the waning light (the shafts into the cavern only faced
east and south, so the amount of sunlight that streamed in depended on the
time of day).
	"We might need someone with thy fighting skill," replied
Monomolecular, matter of factly.
	Vengeance seemed to ponder this as he continued to stare at the
large blade.  "Why?"
	Mono licked his lips, allowing a small puff of flame to escape in
annoyance.  "Why what?", he asked, simply to give himself more time to
think of a good reason.  Truthfully, Dark Vengeance was an old dragon,
whose life stretched back to when Rikkh'et the Gold led his group of
exiles over the mountains of Cove and into the Serpent's Spine, hundreds
of years ago.  Monomolecular wanted to give him another taste of
adventure, before he might turn skeletal and take the vow to live alone. 
	"Why mightest thou need my combat expertise?" he restated,
boastfully. 
	"'Tis a black moongate, spanning planes.  The last black moongate
that existed would have allowed the Guardian to conquer Britannia.  We
need all the fighting strength we can have."  It was a logical
explanation, but even a group of dragons probably wouldn't last long under
a direct attack from the Guardian. 
	"Hmmm." the older dragon replied.  "If there is a chance of combat,
I shall join thee." 
	"Good."  He looked to cover all the dragons.  "We shall remeet here
in thirty minutes.  Bring whatever gear thou dost feel thy might need, but
do not overburden thyselves too much.  We sill be spending time awing;
there are rogues travelling the forest, and I do not want to waste flame."
	With a chorus of flapping wings, the dragons departed. 

				-==O==-

	Aiel shuddered as he looked at his soup.  Lady, his mate, was a
great cook, but after the day's earlier events, he didn't feel hungry.  It
was a perfect day, to be true: the sun was out, and there were clouds in
the sky.  Big, puffy white clouds.  Clouds that looked oddly like
cottonballs.  He suppressed another shudder.
	"What is the matter, dear?  Art thou not hungry?"
	"No, not really...I visited Grignard's weyr today.  Whisper was
there."
	Lady paused, bowl halfway to her mouth.  "She was cooking?"
	"Yes."
	Lady looked at the bowl, grimaced, and put it down, pushing it
away from her and accidentally dumping the contents into the fire. 
"Oops," she muttered.  "Uh, Aiel, I too am not very hungry, for some
reason."  She seemed to stare off into space, until a thought struck her. 
"Let us go over to the game cavern.  I believe there is a game of
wingetball ongoing."
	"Still?" laughed Aiel.  "Yes, let's."  Tail in tail, they exited
their weyr and made a short flight, across and up to the entrance cavern. 
Monomolecular, black scales glinting now with a good oiling, walked past
with the rest of his party in tow. 

V

	"Aiel," he nodded.  Aiel and Lady nodded back as they continued
into the depths of the earth.  Stretching his wings, he gave a short
chirrup back to the other five dragons.  Unfolding his wings and giving a
sharp downstroke while pushing off hard with his hind legs, he leapt into
the air and flew up the slanting entrance shaft.  They burst into the late
afternoon skies over the Serpent's Spine and wheeled around until they had
joined in a formation.  Turning to the west and slightly south, and with a
great rushing of wings, they flew off. It was another few hours before
they reached the narrow pass through the mountains, and a few more minutes
before they agreed on a landing site.  Vengeance landed first, still-keen
eyes scanning the undergrowth for hazards.  Mono was next in, sniffing the
air in long breaths.  Nothing was nearby (save for the spicy, hot scents
of his companions) but a few deer and a bird.  Vengeance waved the large
sword, and the rest of the dragons descended out of their circle to land
on the ground.  To the northeast rose the mountains, grey and snowcapped. 
To the southeast were more mountains, but these were all low save for a
large caldera which had become a crater lake over the centuries.  Near
there, buried under the rock in the twisting web of passages that was
Dungeon Despise, the Guardian had placed one of the three magical
"generators" that hampered the Avatar in his travels of almost a year ago. 
The generators had all been destroyed, but the destruction of the Sphere
of Despise took the blue moongates that had been the prime means of
long-distance travel with it.  Legend had it that several more moongates
had been spotted by the Avatar since, on the Isle of Fire.  And since, no
other moongate had appeared.  But now... 
	"Where is it, Mono?"
	Monomolecular looked over his wing at Mithril.  "We are not quite
there yet, Mithril.  I'll find it again, even if I have to strip the
mountains bare."
	"That is just Avatar Legend, Monomolecular.  Dost thou wish me to
believe that thou dost believe the tale of the Code of the Alternate 255?"
	"The Avatar is powerful," said Singular, who was along because he
was the resident expert in planar travel.  "He comes from the world known
as Earth."
	"Myth," scoffed <G>remlin as he tossed the bones of his latest meal
at a rock.  "Lore," he added.
	"To each his own, <G>rem.  I have found it to my advantage to
believe whatever is believable.  Knowledge bears fruit, and I am the
Loremaster."  Mono sighed, thinking of his huge collection of scrolls,
books, and tablets.  He was the keeper of the Weyr Library, which
contained writings dating back to the times even before Rikkh'et.
	"Fruit," rumbled <G>remlin.  "I could use some."
	"Ssh.  I have a bad feeling," whispered Mithril.
	"Nothing can attack thee, Mith.  Vengie's behind thee."
	"I could have sworn I heard something.  Let me fly up and take a
look,"  Rift pleaded. 
	"No, Rift.  I'm responsible for all of us, and I don't want thee to
-- AAAH!"
	Vengeance sprang over his fellows' heads, drawing his dragonsword. 

VI

	There was a flash of rope, and Vengeance flopped back onto the
ground, wings bound with a well-thrown hunting bolo from <G>remlin. 
Vengie turned to flame him, but <G>rem shouted "It's only Skyblade!"
	"Mono," she said, folding her azure wings.  "Looking for thy
moongate?"
	"How didst thou know?" Mono replied, eyes narrowing.
	 "I followed thee.  'Tis not hard to track six dragons by their
scents alone.  I have seen no moongate in this pass."
	"Told thee."
	Mono glared at Mithril.  "The moongate is not IN the pass, it is
UNDER it.  Or, shall I say, inside the mountains."
	Skyblade blinked, and frowned.  "I apologize.  I suppose thou dost
mean the chamber with the standing stones?  There is no moongate there,
either."
	"What?"
	"A ring of black standing stones, in a cave.  Blackrock, if I am
correct."
	"But the conjunction hath been over for the past five months! 
Blackrock cannot become permeable now!" objected Singular.
	"My blades would not cut it, and my claws are chipped.  They are
most definitely blackrock."
	True to her word, the moongate was gone.  But the carved standing
stones still stood.  Singular shrugged at the runes -- they were too
archaic to read.
	"Let me try," said Dark Vengeance and, before he could be stopped,
he was reading the stones.  "Old magic, like that my ancestors practiced. 
The magic of Rikkh'et.  The magic of A'ron.  The first magic.  Primordial
magic."  He looked up.  "Ritualistic magic -- magic the Guardian would
practice."
	"Magic that would make blackrock permeable, alignment or no,"
hissed Singular.
	"But where doth it lead?  Pagan?  Hath the Guardian already entered
our plane?"  <G>remlin dropped his latest catch out of pure fear.
	"If that were true, surely the Avatar would have returned by now,"
put in Skyblade.
	"If that were true -- but he has not.  Therefore we are in no
immediate danger," concluded Mono.
	"Why did he leave?" Rift blinked.  He had been ill at the time. 
	"He wanted to return to Earth badly, after he stranded himself.  He
succeeded a scant month ago," said Singular.
	"Mono -- look."  Skyblade pointed with a trembling claw at the
moongate.  It had begun to pulsate, throb; yet looked the same as before.
	"We wanted to know where it went," Vengeance coughed.  "Looks like
we're about to find out."
	There was a sharp, high pitched keening, and a figure stepped out. 
He glanced around swiftly, whimpered, and fell, face drained of color.
	"'Tis a man?!" <G>rem muttered.
	"Aye...but he is not Britannian.  His mode of dress is strange."
	"He is sick, or weak," said Skyblade.  "Shouldn't we aid him?"
	Mono looked at the strange face.  "One thing is almost for
certain...he is from Earth." 

VII

	"He is waking.  Bring me water."
	The drake nodded and handed the small bowl to Imbrium, who held it
to the man's lips.  He automatically sipped the water, swallowed, and
sipped again.  When she felt he had had enough, Imbrium removed the bowl
and set it on a small table next to the bed.  The man frowned, and his
eyes fluttered open.  "Where -- " he couched and licked his lips.  "Where
am I?"
	Imbrium looked at Karma, who crouched in a darker corner,
observing the man.  Karma shrugged.  "Tell him -- carefully," he
whispered.
	Imbrium paused.  "Thou art safe.  Thou hast had a slight shock. 
Thou art under my care, and have recovered."
	"You're a doctor?" the man asked.  "Why is it so dark in here?"
	Imbrium blinked, remembering that dragons could see better in the
dimness.  Thinking fast, she said, "'Tis night, and the lights have been
capped.  Tell me: what is thy name?"
	"Spence.  Patrick Spence.  Who are you?"
	"My name is Imbrium."
	In the darkness, the man frowned.  "Imbrium?  What kind of name is
that for a doctor?"
	"A fine one, Patrick Spence," rumbled Karma.  "She revived thee
after thy arrival."
	The man's eyes widened.  "Where am I?" he demanded, starting to
panic.  Imbrium looked up, alarmed, and decided to throw caution to the
wind.  "Thou art in our weyr, in the heart of the mountains.  I am going
to light the lantern now.  Do not be afraid.  No harm shall come to thee."
	Before the man could reply, she lit the flamebox with a short puff
from her mouth.  The man yelped, both in surprise and at the blast of
heat.  He screamed when he saw Imbrium, and tried to slide away, off the
bed, but hit the wall.  He screamed again, and Imbrium noticed a spreading
wet stain on the rushbags.
	"Do dod dodod don't -- no no no don't eat me..." he gibbered.
	Imbrium frowned.  "I shant eat thee," she began, but the man
continued to babble.  "Dragon dragon nonono no eat no eat nice dragon nice
dragon EEYAAAAAAH!" he screamed as Karma nearly scorched the ceiling in
laughter.
	He stopped babbling long enough to notice the bass rumbling
chuckle.  He frowned.  "What are you laughing at?!" he yelled.
	"Thou," Karma chortled.  "I'll say it:  WE SHALL NOT EAT THEE.  WE
HATH NO INTENTION OF EATING THEE."  He smiled, laughing at the man's
confused look, and wandered out of the sickweyr.  Imbrium looked at him
go, then turned back.  For the first time, Spence noticed that she was a
pale cloudy color, with clear blue eyes open wide in both bemusement and
concern.  "I shall not eat thee.  Thou art my patient, for the time being,
and I never eat my patients."  She paused.  Spence seemed more curious
than scared now.  She continued.  "Thou art in our weyr.  Thou hast come
to our land through a black moongate, from the world called Earth."  She
stopped when she noticed his confused expression.
	"Moongate?"  The man blinked rapidly.  "Black moongate?"  He
frowned, thinking.  "Not -- it couldn't be --"  He frowned again, and
paled.  "Is this -- is this...Britannia?" 

VIII

	"Insane," muttered Monomolecular.  "Impossible."
	"What art thou talking about?" asked Grignard, preening himself.
	Monomolecular looked up from the scrolls.  "There is nothing in
the prophecies that foretell of this other Earth human.  Nothing at all,
in the scrolls AND the slabs."
	"Didst thou expect the prophets to foretell everything?"
	Mono opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.  "Yes. No...I don't
know."  He sighed, putting the scroll away and reaching for another. 
"Well, they're usually right.  They predicted the Guardian -- sort of --
and most of the events of the Song of A'ron have happened."  He coughed. 
"But perhaps thou art right."  He rolled up the scroll and tossed it onto
the table, stretching his wings.
	"'Tis a pity," Grignard muttered.
	"What's a pity?"
	Grignard jabbed a claw in the general direction of the scrolls. 
"Thou thyself hast said it.  Most of the prophecies usually do come true,
in one form or another.  But we all know these writings are but a small
fraction of the original works."
	"Yes.  'Tis sad, to be sure.  Most of them -- destroyed, without a
trace, during the Flight." 
	"Saddening.  I wonder what Rikkh'et would have said about this." 
	Mono muttered something and the light extinguished itself.  "I'm
going to eat.  Join me?"
	"I'm eating with Whisper."
	Mono looked up, grimacing.  Grignard shook his head.  "Oh, no,
don't worry."  He smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the torchlight.  "*I* do
all the cooking now."
				-==O==-

	"We must notify Lord British.  Immediately."
	"I agree," assented a black wolf sitting in the corner.  "But how?"
	"We could send a messenger," Karma suggested.
	"Who?" asked Umbrae.  "We cannot go near the human cities -- they'd
surely attack."
	Karma looked at Umbrae, then at Spectacle.  "Magic?"
	Spec grumbled, shaking his head.  "Nystul.  He may be a doddering
old coot --" there was a short burst of laughter from all around, "-- but
he hangs around Lord British's castle all day and is quite powerful."
	Black Wolf frowned, thinking.  "Buran?"
	"Who?" asked Umbrae and Spec simultaneously.
	"Buran.  The Silver Dragon.  Lives in a weyr to the southwest."  He
stood and walked over to the table, pointing at a spot on the large cloth
map with one grey paw.  "Here."
	"Why him?"
	Karma figured it out before anyone else did.  "Because of his
ability to change forms.  Disguised as a human, he can deliver the
message.  Deliver the message, Black Wolf.  Bid him to come here, no later
than one day from now."
	"Of course."
	Spec looked around at the generally satisfied faces.  He rapped a
fist-sized, scarred, chipped stone and rapped it sharply, once, against
the table.  "Meeting adjourned." 

IX

	"Efema?"
	Ephemeral looked up at the sound of his name and smiled.  "Hello,
Lupa.  Join me for a drink?"
	"Gladly," she replied.  "Wine?"
	"Aiel gave me a bottle.  Told me to drink it in good health, he
did."  Ephemeral reached for a glass as Lupa couched herself next to him,
unusually close.  "I, er, thought I might share it with thee."
	"Thou art quite considerate, Eph," said Lupa with a small smile. 
"Thank thee."  She looked into his eyes for a long time, not saying a
word.  Hand trembling, Ephemeral sat the glass down and leaned forward.
	"Hiyall!" bellowed Pooglian as he bounded through the door.  "You
guys wanna go play winget --".  He paused, noticing the scene before him. 
"Oh, uh, er...Sorry, Eph.  I did not mean to intrude."  He backed away,
bumped into the door frame, and smiled.  "I shall, uh, be going now."  He
jerked over his wing with a thumb, backed away, and ran out as fast as he
could, nearly toppling Monomolecular. 
	"Fair morning, Pooglian.  What, might I ask, is thy rush?"
	Poog smiled, embarrassed but laughing out of control.  He pointed
back down the passage, to the door that was just around the corner.  "Lupa
and Ephemeral, sitting in the candlelight, with a bottle of wine and two
glasses."  He smiled, checked to make sure they were out of earshot, and
whispered, "Efema kass'a ariathia!" [Ed. "Ephemeral wants some!"]
	Mono blinked rapidly.  A smile cracked his face, and he nearly
doubled over in laughter.  Poog joined him on the floor, repeating the
tease.  Mono laughed and replied, "Luh'paa arithianai Efema,
ensshkkyh'i...DRAKES!" [Ed. "If Lupa does Ephemeral, there'll be drakes."]
	Poog rolled on the floor again, wiping hot tears from his eyes. 
Mono laughed some more, too, then an idea struck him.  "Wait here, Poog. 
I'll be back in a moment."
	"Why?  Where art thou going?"
	"Well...Grig still in the refectory?"
	"Yes..."
	"Good."  Mono half-flew down the hall, out of sight.  He returned a
moment later, carrying two round fruit-filled confections.  He pressed one
into Poog's hand, and Pooglian seemed to get the idea immediately. 
"Lupa's mine!" he hissed.
	"Good."  They crept back up the passage.  "On three," Mono
whispered.
	"Aye.  One...two...THREE!"
	They charged into the room and tossed the confections.  There were
two soft splutting sounds, and a creel of surprise from Lupa.  Ephemeral
hissed angrily as he wiped the pie off of his face, noticing as he cleared
his eyes two dragons, in hysterics, sprinting down the corridor.
	"Pooglian!" he screamed.  "MONOMOLECULAR!" 

X

	Buran nearly fainted when Black Wolf came for him, but packed
travel belongings and winged north at first light.  He arrived at the weyr
near noon the same day, gliding down the entrance shaft to land neatly on
the sands of the entrance chamber.
	"Bu'hraan!  Welcome!"
	Buran tossed his pack off of his back and clasped Ephemeral's
hand.  "Efema!  How art thou?"
	"Not ill.  Fawning over another, I am," he smiled.
	"Shall I guess?"  Buran screwed his face up in mock thought. 
"Luh'paa?"  he smiled. 
	"Black Wolf told thee, did he not?  I had not thought myself to be
so... so..."
	"Transparent?" Buran supplied.
	"Aye," he sniffed.  Black Wolf edged his way into the reunion, and
steered Buran away with his snout.  "Sorry, but thou dost have urgent
business that thou dost need to attend to.  Please follow me."  The wolf
turned and trotted toward a side passage.  Buran shrugged, flapping his
wings, and turned to follow.
	"Is he thy relative?"
	"Hello, Aiel.  Very distantly.  We were both hatched in Destard." 
	"I thought he lived in Despise."
	"He moved some years ago, to be nearer to the warm underground
waters.  He loves not far from Trinsic now."
	There was a wild, unrestrained scream from down a corridor.  Aiel
looked at Ephemeral, and they both half-flew in the direction of the
scream, which was shortly followed by another.  Together they rounded the
corner into the archives.
	"Ayiee!  Yehaa!  Hahaha!"  Mono looked up at his sudden visitors,
silver eyes twinkling excitedly.  "Aiel!  Eph!  Come quickly!"
	"Art thou injured?  Dost thou require medical aid?"
	Monomolecular waved his hands, flapped his wings, lashed his tail,
and shook his head vigorously.  Eph blinked at his animatedness.  "No, no! 
I found it!" he unsuccessfully clarified.
	"Found what?" said another voice.
	"Lady!  I found it!"
	"FOUND WHAT?!" roared Aiel.
	Mono danced around the chamber, spurting puffs of flame at random,
and nearly incinerating several scrolls.  He thrust an old, mildewed
scroll at them.  "This!" he cried triumphantly.  He unrolled it and
flashed the written sides, covered in dragonish glyphs, at them.  "It's
the right prophecy!  Clawed by Kass'ekkh the Incredibly Profound right
before the Sundering!"
	"Oh," yawned Ephemeral.  "Another one?  For a profound dragon, he
certainly was obnoxiously copious in his writings."
	Mono looked pained.  "No!  Thou dost not understand!"  He snapped
around.  "Lady!  Read this aloud!"  Lady flinched back at her friend's
unusual excitation.  She took the scroll, glancing over it quickly.  Her
eyes widened in astonishment, and her tail began lashing around wildly.
	"It says there can be more than one Avatar!" she screamed. 

XI

	"I'm the Avatar?" gasped Patrick Spence.
	"Thou art an avatar," corrected Lady.
	The human sat there, on the couch they had set up for him just off
the sickweyr, dead to the fact that he was talking to dragons.  He no
longer seemed to care.  Perspiration beaded up on his forehead, and his
eyes stared fixedly at a point on the far wall.  "I'm the Avatar?"  he
repeated.
	"Thou art AN Avatar," repeated Lady.
	"There can be TWO Avatars?!" cried Spence.
	Mono shrugged, black and grey scales clinking, "It most certainly
doth appear so..."
	"We must notify the Grand Council," stated Ephemeral.
	"Thou meanst thou hast not already?" queried Mono.
	"Nay -- my mate is on his way," said Lady.
	"Thou dost sound like Nameless," muttered Eph. 

				-==O==-

	"My liege," said the man as he jogged into the room.
	"Yes?"
	"I bear a message for thee from Lord Draxinusom."  The man extended
it to the figure in the throne, bowed deeply, and sprinted off. 
	"Ah, 'tis time," muttered the man as he broke the wax and unrolled
the scroll.
	An older man, grey hair flopping listlessly out of his brown robe,
smiled and turned to the robed man in the throne.  "Careful, friend.  The
people might have...negative opinions of thee if they dost find out what
the bulk of thy messages to Draxinusom were."
	The man in the throne grinned sheepishly over his blond beard. 
"Thou art probably correct, friend Nystul," he smiled.  "Exchanging
Knight's Bridge moves by official messenger would not do my reputation
well."
	"Thou art still riding high upon the wave of the success in the
matter with the Fellowship," Nystul sighed.
	"I know, I know."  Lord British sighed and rested his cheek in his
hand.  "If only it weren't for that fiasco with the moat..."
	"Oh, desist!" barked Nystul.  "That was many, many years ago.  Stop
complai --"
	There was a clatter of metal from the courtyard.  Lord British
shot to his feet as the heavy wood doors to the throne room were throne
open.  Geoffrey half-tumbled through the opening, pushed forward by a
group of guards restraining someone wearing plain clothes.  "My liege," he
panted.  "We caught this man outside the gatehouse, trying to sneak
through the portcullis.  He now demands an audience with thee." 
	"Lord British, 'tis an urgent message!" wailed the man.
	Lord British; looked from the man, to Nystul, to Geoffrey, then
back to the man.  "Release him." 
	"But sire, he could be danger --"
	"I said, RELEASE HIM!"
	"Sir," Geoffrey muttered, and they let go of the man, who dusted
himself off with a sideways scowl at one of them.  The guards tightened
their grips on their halberds but otherwise said nothing.
	"Approach the throne," said Lord British, and the man complied.
	"Milord," he began.  "I deliver an urgent message to thee."
	"Waste not my time!  Speak thy words!"
	There was a flash of light, and the man transformed into a dragon. 

XII

	"Guards!" roared Lord British, but the guards had already sprung,
halberds raised.  Shrieking, Buran lifted himself up to the ceiling, out
of reach.  An arrow whizzed by.
	"Lord British!  We need thy help!  Britannia is in grave danger!"
	"Waste not my breath, fiend!" screamed Lord British back, raising
his own sword, forged of a shard of the legendary Quicksword Enilno.  He
drew his arm back, threw the sword.  It flew point first, homing for
Buran's heart, and struck something invisible, falling to the floor. 
There was a sudden roar, a boom-rush of sound, and a large red face
materialized feet off the floor.
	"Lord British!  The time draws near again!  And there's nothing you
can do to stop me!"
	Buran pointed at the face.  "Lord British, here's thy proof!"
	The Guardian turned to face Buran.  "Ah...so my plot has drawn
the attention of _these_ weaklings as well.  No matter.  Not even the most
powerful magics in all Britannia can stop me.  The die is cast..."  He
laughed, a hideous booming, and his face disappeared.
	Lord British exhaled sharply, looking up at Buran.  "Land, dragon. 
Tell me thy message."
	Buran fell gracefully out of his hover, landing on the floor of
the throne hall.  "Lord British, I come to thee as an emissary of the
Alliance of the Grand Council of Dragons.  I bear this message from the
Grand Council."  He produced a scroll, unrolled it, and read.  "Dragons
Spectacle, Umbrae, and Karma, and also the Black Wolf; to Lord British of
Britain, Ruler of Britannia and the Cape Isles, also Moonglow, Dagger
Isle, New Magincia, and Serpent's Hold; Greetings.  We wish to confer with
thee on a grave matter.  Several days ago one of our number discovered a
black moongate in a cave in the Serpent's Spine range.  Since then, a
Human from Earth has arrived in Britannia.  He is known as Patrick
Spence."  Buran paused, glancing at Lord British's face before continuing. 
"We wish to meet with thee, as a guest of the Grand Council in our weyr,
in time for our Solstice Festival; there to discuss the man known as
Patrick Spence and the matter of the Moongate.  Please travel here with
all due haste.  We await thy reply.  Signed, the Grand Council."  Buran
rolled up the scroll, and stood there, waiting.
	Lord British sat there, staring unfocusedly off into space.  He
sat there for so long the dragon started to worry.  Then, abruptly, he
looked up.  "Please convey this message back to thy Grand Council."  He
snapped his fingers and the court scribe stepped up, quill already moist
with ink.  "Lord British, ruler of Britannia et cetera, to the rulers of
the Alliance of the Grand Council of Dragons.  Thy news is indeed grave. 
I shall make ready to travel to thy weyr in two days.  I am sure thou will
have no qualms with allowing me to bring my entourage.  Signed, Lord
British."  The scribe handed the message to Buran, who bowed deeply,
turned, and ducked out the large doors into the courtyard, where he took
to the skies in a mighty leap.
	"Lord British, is that wise?"
	Lord British looked up at Nystul, visibly paled. 

XIII

	The weyr was a bustle of activity.  Dragons hovered midair,
hanging gold and green and blue bunting on the walls.  Far below, on the
weyr floor, a dais had been constructed with dragon-size chairs.  Long
tables had been erected along the sides of the chamber, running from the
dais to the cookpits at the other end.  The rock was scrubbed and polished
until it shown with an almost ethereal glow.
	"Do the cookpits meet thy inspection?" asked Grignard, who was to
oversee the cooking.  Suspended Dragon ran his hands over the firebrick
lining of a firepit, then looked up to the ventilation shaft hundreds of
feet off the floor.  "There does not seem to be any fire hazard here.  As
long as none of the straw gets too close to the pits, there should be no
problem."
	"Didst thou check the ventilation shaft already?" asked Karma.
	"Not so much as a bird's nest," Suspended reported.  "The cookpits
have my seal of approval."
	"Good."  Karma looked up to see a reddish-green dragon in a lazy
spiral from the heights, who settled to land a few lengths away and
discharge a passenger, who stepped over to Karma.
	"Patrick Spence," Karma said.  "I see thou art recovered.  What
dost thou think of dragons now?"
	The man looked up at Karma.  "I do not know how I could have
thought the way I thought.  You guys are all wonderful."
	Karma nodded, smiling.  "Thou art to attend the Solstice Festival,
tomorrow morning, and sit by our sides.  Lord British arrives here
tonight.  He wishes to speak with thee."
	"Lord British?" the man gasped.
	"Aye...after all, thou art another Avatar.  Now, if thou wilt
excuse me..."  Karma launched off, and was soon lost in the cloud of
dragons above. 

				-==O==-

	"Welcome, Lord British, to our weyr."
	"Well met, Umbrae Dragon.  I am pleased to be thy guest."
	"As we are pleased to be thy hosts," replied Spectacle.  "If thou
wilt follow us, we shall show thee to thy suite.  Tomorrow is out Solstice
Festival; I sincerely hope thou wilt sit with us.  Our meeting will begin
immediately after.  Equitable?"
	"Very."  Lord British gasped as he came to the porch and looked out
at the decorated weyr.  He was coaxed onto Karma's back, and let out a
whoop as they glided across to be delivered on another landing.  "Thou
shalt rest in comfort here; we have tried to provide thee with human
appliances.  Thy guards may sleep in the adjoining chamber."  Karma turned
to go.  "One of our number shall be along in the morning, around the
eighth hour, to take you down to the festival.  Sleep well, Lord British." 
	"Until the morning, Karma Dragon."  Karma took off and Lord British
turned to look at the bed.  Giggling quietly, he got up on it and jumped
up and down, until Nystul arrived and forced him to go to sleep. 

XIV

	The Festival began shortly after the ninth hour.  Lord British was
delivered by a very honored Imbrium Dragon to the dais, where he boldly
took his seat between Karma and Spectacle.  Another human, whom he assumed
to be Patrick Spence, sat next to Karma.  Umbrae stood and let out a soft,
ululating cry, and the assembled dragons landed and quieted.  Umbrae
delivered a few opening lines, and introduced Lord British with such
reverence that Lord British blushed.  Next, Monomolecular stood and read a
portion of the epic poem "The Flight of Rikkh'et," ending with a plea for
the dragons to always remember their roots and always stick together in
brethrenhood.  Then, the Grand Council rose and formed a line at the side
of the dais.  Twelve dragons were awarded various medals that day.  Then,
Umbrae took the floor.
	"Dragons, it is time to welcome another of us into the ranks of the
Grand Council.  Thou hast elected this dragon with thy voices, and we have
agreed.  He has, in the past, entertained us with humor and song, and his
leadership was true.  I present to thee, the newest of the Grand
Council...Rendell Dragon!"
	Rendell stepped forward, stunned, and walked up to the dais. 
Umbrae handed him a stone pendant, etched with the spiral symbol of
office, and clapped him on the shoulder.  Rendell smiled weakly.  "I
accept," he hissed, and the chamber was filled with thunderous applause
and cheers.  Even Lord British applauded.
	"Now that the formalities are over," Umbrae continued, "I now
declare this Solstice Festival to have begun." 

XV

	"...must be taken."  Spec looked up from the scroll, eyes glinting
green in the firelight.  "Thy opinion?"
	"Hmm?  Oh, sorry."  Lord British looked sheepishly at Spec.  "I am
still in awe at thy culture.  So rich and varied.  To think I thought all
dragons are bloodthirsty beasts," he sniffed.
	"Some are," said Karma, who coiled in the corner with half- lidded
eyes.  "It's those dragons that give us all a bad name."
	 Lord British nodded sagely.  "I must remember this in the future." 
He looked at Spec.  "Back to what thou wert saying, Spectacle Dragon. 
Yes, I do believe thou art correct.  We must send a scouting party to
examine this moongate.  Thou didst mention runes on the pillars?"
	"That is what Monomolecular said," affirmed Umbrae.  "He is the
dragon who found it.  Several dragons who accompanied him on another foray
confirmed him."
	"Mmm," muttered Lord British.  "Yes, fine.  So then, we send a
party?"
	"Six dragons and six men," suggested Black Wolf.
	"And one wolf, of course," replied Spec, deadpan.
	"Of course," smiled the wolf.
	"As long as myself and Nystul are two of the men.  And the
dragons?" asked Lord British.
	"Monomolecular should go, as should Singular.  Immortal should also
go, being our resident mage.  Hmm.  Rendell?  Would'st thou like to go?"
asked Umbrae.
	"I'd be delighted," replied Rendell.  "Spec and..." he trailed off. 
"Rikkh'et's fire, it looks like the whole GC goes."  He grinned, and Black
Wolf chuckled.
	"Very well then.  I shall make the necessary announcement." 

				-==O==-

	The six dragons landed in the pass and the six men plus one wolf,
still in awe and shock at their swift flight, climbed off. Monomolecular
led them back to the small cave, which was barely big enough to fit them
all.
	"This is it," he said.
	"Yes, yes," wheezed Nystul as he bent to examine the runes.  "Very
archaic.  I can recognize the standard twenty-six runes, but one for EA? 
And ST?"  He moved to the next pillar.
	"This place does not suit me," muttered Singular, and Rendell
chuckled.  "Suits thou better than Mono," he said.  Mono was standing
stock-still at the cave entrance, silver eyes glistening with anxiety, his
body a black silhouette against the light. 
	"Lord British, I cannot read this," Nystul said, somewhat angered
and frustrated.  Immortal arched his neck around the mage and looked.
"Strange.  They are dragon glyphs."
	Umbrae frowned and stuck his head in, too.  "Old ones, at that. 
Can'st thou read them, Immortal?"
	"I'll give it a try," he replied.  "Let's see...IN LOR, um...KAL
TYM LOR.  STEL AN EANA.  VAS STEL.  REL QUAS LOR.  REL LOR.  REL QUAS QUAS
YLEM."  A hot drop of sweat splashed onto the floor, as he realized that
he might have just cast whatever spell it was.  His fears were confirmed
by a sudden flash of light. 

XVI

	The light faded, but the cave was brighter than before.  In the
middle of the chamber, in front of the moongate, stood a low stone
platform.  There was a sound akin to a thousand wind chimes in a
hurricane, and an image formed on the pedestal.
	"So, you have figured out how to activate my message."  The
Guardian paused, yellow eyes staring at nothing in particular.  "I see my
moongate has taken a human from Earth and placed him in Britannia.  How
unfortunate.  It is not yet his turn to die." 
	"What dost thou want?" cried Lord British.
	"This moongate was placed for the purpose you are witnessing," said
the Guardian image, and it was plain that this was a simple message, that
the Guardian couldn't hear them.  "I am letting you all know that, in ten
days, I will send my minions to Britannia.  Five days after that, I will
arrive and make my conquest complete.  There is nothing you can do to stop
me."  The image faded out with a cackle of laughter, and the pedestal,
moongate, and ringstones vanished.
	"Well," grimaced Singular.  "There goes the neighborhood." 

				-==O==-

	The weyr floor, although packed with dragons, was deathly silent. 
Spec put down the scroll and stepped off the platform.  Lord British
stepped up, behind the podium, and onto the crate which had been provided
by a thoughtful Umbrae, realizing that the podium was rather large.
	"Dragons in attendance, this is a perilous situation," he began,
but before he could continue a crossbow bolt whistled past him, inches
from his left ear.  There was a cry of shock from the crowd, and the
sounds of a scuffle.  Umbrae pushed Lord British aside and roared,
belching hot fire and steam.  "I DEMAND TO KNOW WHO LOOSED THAT BOLT! 
SHOW THYSELF!" 
	"I loosed it, Umbrae Dragon," spat a hovering Ephemeral, crossbow
still in hand.  "I know you saw my warning.  Take this as a second notice: 
there is no hope."  Ephemeral smiled, and the Guardian continued to speak. 
"Last time the Avatar --" the Guardian (speaking through Ephemeral)
sneered "-- actually defeated me.  Naturally, I was mad.  But this time --
this time, I have found that which shall make me victorious!  And you
shall witness --"  The crossbow clattered to the floor, and Ephemeral hung
there, slack-jawed.  "NOOO!" the Guardian screamed.  "I SENT HIM BACK TO
EARTH!  NOOO!  I WILL NOT BE STOPPED AGAIN!"
	Unconscious, Ephemeral tumbled to the ground, where he was caught
by at least ten other dragons.
	Shaken, both by the attempted assassination and the message, Lord
British turned to face the GC.
	"Friend Dragons, in light of this event, I'm sure thou'l have no
qualms about moving our conference to a more neutral place."
	"Where?"
	"I agree," said Spectacle.  "And I know just the place." 

XVII

	"Ten days," Spec muttered.  "'Tis cutting it close."
	"He had to sail to Jhelom.  The unrest there is growing," noted
Umbrae.
	"Four days from New Dawn to Jhelom -- assuming the winds are right
-- and a day there to reaffirm the charter.  Four days to sail back,
because winter is fast approaching and it is definite the winds will not
be right," said Karma as he traced a claw on the cloth map.  "One day to
mobilize forces."  He looked up.  "How to get troops from Serpent's Hold,
and New Magincia?  Both of those islands are twelve days away by sail."
	"He has already sent messengers, on dragonback."  Karma looked up
at Umbrae, surprised, at that.  Umbrae nodded.  "There will be a problem. 
We can transport six men and their gear to each dragon.  A dragon can
cover that distance in only a few days.  We should be able to produce a
sizable contingent, assuming our allies at Destard and Dagger Isle assist. 
Which they will.
	"That could bring the bulk of Britannia's guard to Britain in only
six days.  The rest, aboard ship, should arrive a few days later -- around
day 12 -- but there should be enough here by then to fight off the first
wave."
	"I certainly hope so," coughed Umbrae.  He jabbed at a parchment. 
"How are the plans proceeding for the talks?"
	"I travel to New Dawn in a few hours.  I'm sure the owners of the
Wolf's Paw Inn will have no problems with us using their conference
facilities," replied Rendell.
	"Fortunate Dragons are tolerated there," said Black Wolf.
	"Agreed.  We are rich," Rendell grinned, "and the New Dawn
merchants are greedy!" 

XVIII

	"There's his ship now," shouted Monomolecular.  Skyblade nodded,
flapping her azure wings languorously to sustain her soar.  "We should
land and notify Rendell," she shouted back over the rushing air.  Mono
agreed, and they wheeled around, gliding in a spiral to land on the knoll
just outside of New Dawn where the GC had camped.
	"Rendell!  Lord British's ship sighted on the flight horizon, five
hundred lengths up!  Winds gusting out of the south," Mono reported.
	Rendell nodded.  "He'll enter the harbor in twenty minutes.  Spec! 
Karma!  Black Wolf! Umbrae! We must enter town!  Lord British arrives!" He
turned back to the black dragon.  "Well done, Mono."
	Within seconds, the GC and a gross of dragons had headed down the
hill and up the dirt road, through the town wall, and down the street to
the docks.  Above, other dragons wheeled in the sky, chirruping with
excitement.
	The ship tacked neatly into the harbor and sidled up to the pier. 
Young men rushed up to catch thrown ropes and tie them securely to the
posts.  The gangplank was swung across, draped on one side with dragon
bunting in blue, gold, and green; with Britannian bunting in white and
gold on the other.  Three banners flew side by side at the foot of the
ramp: the gold ankh on a white field of Britannia; the gold dragon with
wings spread to encompass green ground and blue sky; and the gold
half-circle on a purple and green field of New Dawn Township.
	Lord British's advisors and guards descended the ramp first,
followed by Nystul, and then Lord British himself.
	"On behalf of the citizens of New Dawn Township, we welcome thee to
our fair city," said Carinim, mayor of New Dawn, as he kneeled.  Lord
British nodded, the mayor rose, and the Lord moved on down the receiving
line.  As one, all the dragons began creeling; a soft, strong note that
echoed off the houses and trees, surging across the crowd like one of the
tidal waves that were all too frequent in the area.  As one, the four
dragons and the wolf of the GC kneeled, then rose.  "Greetings, Lord
British," said Spectacle.  "I hope we can proceed with the meetings as
soon as possible."
	"We shall, Spectacle Dragon...as soon as this shindig is over." 
He smiled wickedly and waved at the public, who cheered immensely.  Umbrae
shrugged at Spec's bewildered expression, and fell in line with the rest
of the parade. 

				-==O==-

	"More water, please," said Karma to the attendant.  The boy nodded
and left the room quickly.  "Now," Karma continued, "we must amass our
troops quickly.  Strange creatures have already appeared out of the
northern forest and are terrorizing Yew.  Our scouts spotted a few in the
mountains near our weyr."
	"We have traced their origin back to that same cave in the
mountains," said Umbrae.  "Our guess is that there is another moongate
there now.  We have already posted more scouts in that pass."
	"Very prudent," agreed Lord British.  "I shall command my men to
camp near the south end of the pass -- a farming village named Highlock
should do nicely."
	"Dark Vengeance is rounding up mercenaries to camp out at the
northern end of the pass.  'Tis dense forest there, though, and they are
having trouble setting up," said Karma. 

XIX

	"Attacks by animals?" asked Lord British.  "Ruffians?"
	Spec shook his head.  "Terrain, mostly.  They have found a
suitable site -- 'tis elevated, with a clear view of the pass -- but 'tis
very rocky and offers little concealment."
	"How long until thou can'st mobilize the rest of thy troops?" asked
Karma as the attendant refilled his bowl.
	"Two, maybe three days.  I have commandeered the swiftest vessels
in Britannia to carry my troops.  Fortunately, the winds and currents are
now favorable across the Britannian sea.  The troops from Jhelom are no
more than four days away now."  Lord British looked pointedly at Rendell. 
"May I ask thy status?"
	"So far, Destard has committed fifty wings and Deceit twenty-
five," said Rendell.
	"How many dragons to a wing?" Lord British wanted to know.
	"Five to a wing is traditional," Rendell replied.
	Lord British whistled softly.  "'Tis a lot of Dragons."
	"Deceit and Destard are, of course, obligated to send another
twenty wings each.  It only takes the decision of the Council to activate
them," continued Rendell.
	"Shall we?" asked Karma.
	The Dragons extended their hands, palms up in a sign of agreement.
"Duly noted.  Scribe?" Black Wolf gestured to a drake holding parchment
and quill -- his claws were still too soft.  "Three copies, please.  'By
decision of the Grand Council, in afternoon session at New Dawn; the
remaining Wings are to be activated.  This decision is immediate and
final.' Stamp it with our marks, and send them.  One each to Destard and
Deceit, and the third to the Archives."  The drake carefully copied the
message twice, then left. 

				-==O==-

	"First hour: three entered the pass, two left.  Second hour: four
entered, two left.  Third hour: four entered, four left.  Fourth hour:
three entered, nobody left.  Then I went off duty," the man said.
	Dark Vengeance stroked his beard.  "And in the two hours since,
not one of those foul creatures have been seen."  He penned something on a
parchment with his claw.  "Note that more entered the pass than left," he
added.
	There was a rustle of wings nearby and another Dragon landed in
the dim morning light.  "Dark Vengeance.  Message from Marton at South
Camp."  Vengie grunted with interest, cracked the wax on the scroll, and
read it.
	"Interesting.  South Camp has the same trend.  Take this back to
Marton," he handed the parchment to the messenger dragon, then turned to
the other dragon who had just awoken.  "Those creatures are amassing. 
Kilts, thou art in command until I return," he said.
	"Where art thou going," asked Kilts as he rubbed sleep from his
eyes and stretched his wings luxuriously.
	"The weyr, to deliver my findings.  I shall overfly the goblin camp
on the way," replied Dark Vengeance.
	"Good luck.  I am in command," Kilts confirmed. 

				-==O==-

	A figure shuffled in the darkness, carrying a large metallic
object.  It moved slowly up behind Grignard and raised the object. 
Hearing a noise, Grignard turned around, saw what made the noise, and
screamed. 

XX

	Grignard continued screaming until he noticed the hurt look in
Whisper's eyes.  She sadly lowered the tray to the table and started to
cry.  Grignard blinked, sorry.  "I'm sorry, my love," he murmured.  "Is
there anything I can do to make it up to thee?" he added, and was almost
sorry he did, for Whisper stopped crying, her face perked up and she
smiled.  "Yes.  Eat this!"
	"MMF!" Grignard said as Whisper shoved the cake into Grignard's
mouth.  Grignard chewed slowly, swallowing.  His eyes snapped open and a
look of surprise and shock shot across his face.  He looked up at Whisper.
	"Whisper!" he cried, incredulous.  "These are GOOD!" 

				-==O==-

	Dark Vengeance quickly scanned the scene far below as he flew over
the pass.  A team of goblins had hewn rock from the mountains and were
building a raised stone platform, four columns at each end.  Ringstones
were being erected within.  A short causeway of shiny red stone connected
the structure to a low platform with a round table on it.  Nearby, log
barracks were being built.  Vengeance shifted his course to overfly the
round table -- and nearly had his wings burned through as a fireball
rocketed up from the camp, singing his left wingclaw.  He went into a
powerdive, picking up momentum with his wings half folded, then snapped
them full open, sending him skimming rapidly over the trees so close the
leaves tickled his belly.  With the stone structure etched in his mind, he
banked and headed for the weyr. 

XXI

	"These tomes are pretty old, Mono.  I do not see what use thou
could'st have for them."
	Mono took one of the scroll bundles, blowing dust off of it. 
	"The older the better."  He unrolled a set and blinked at the
archaic glyphs.
	"This script is almost as bad as Gargish," he muttered.
	"As old, too.  Common roots," noted Immortal.
	"Whatever.  Ah, here it is." 

				-==O==-

	"Days," muttered Spectacle.  "Mere days.  A day."
	"Cheer up," rasped Rendell, thumping him on the back.  "Want me to
sing thee a song?"
	"No time," the other dragon muttered.  "Five hundred Britannian
crowns that the Guardian destroys us."
	"Were that true, how could I collect, eh?"  Dell grinned, and Spec
couldn't help but smile, even a little. 
   "There, that's better.  See?" 
   "Still, I wish the Avatar hadn't left." 
   Rendell sighed, himself suddenly in a darker mood.  "I agree, but there
isn't really anything we can do about that, is there?" 
	"There might be.  Hast thou an Orb of the Moons?"
	Rendell blinked, then shook his head.  "Of course not."
	"I had to try.  Maybe Immortal has one."
	"Maybe.  Where is he, anyway?" 

				-==O==-

	"It will be a vicious battle," Lord British was concluding.  "The
fate of Britannia hangs in the balance.  Go in Virtue." 
   The troops broke up to receive their details. 

				-==O==-

	The longboats ground ashore; warriors clad in new armor and
wielding razor-sharp swords formed up on the beachhead.
	"We have one day for the march, friends," said Syria.  "We must be
in position at the north end of the pass by tomorrow morning.  Thou
know'st thy mission.  Valor!"
	"Valor!" chanted the assembled men and women of Jhelom, and the
column began to march over the road from Yew, into the mountains. 

				-==O==-

	Across the continent, boats lay in wait in the great harbor of
Britain, while others disgorged men and gargoyles from Serpent's Hold and
Terfin.  Overhead, similarly laden wings of dragons from Dagger Isle and
the Verity Isles appeared, landed momentarily to catch a quick bite of
food, and were airborne and heading north toward the white-capped peaks of
the Serpent's Spine. 

XXII

	The moongate flickered out of existence, and the Avatar smiled,
collapsing into the brown pile carpeting of his house.  He had made it. 
He was HOME.
	He ran into the next room and hugged his refrigerator.  He hugged
his television, and his CD player.  He gave a sidelong scowl at his
computer, and hugged his microwave.
	Penumbra and Rudyom, with the somewhat unwilling aid of the
Britannia Mining Corporation, had managed to make a temporary moongate. 
When it had fully formed and stabilized, the Avatar had jumped at the
chance to go home.  Literally.  He knew that the magics holding the
moongate together were temporary at best now, and had had only a second to
decide.
	He tossed his faded, torn red cape onto a chair.  He removed his
armor and stowed it in a secret closet.  He ordered a pizza from Domino's
and watched the news, waiting for it to arrive.  He ate it while listening
to Pink Floyd and playing an interesting RPG by some company in Austin on
his Gameboy.  He called Prodigy, and wrote notes to his friends in the
Fantasy Games boards.  He drank some Crystal Pepsi, stayed up through
Arsenio, and stared out his window at the patch of trees between his house
and the Garden State. On an impulse, he went outside, down the barely
visible stone path to the circle of stones.  No moongate.  Satisfied, he
went back home, collapsing into a heap on his bed, falling asleep wearing
only his underwear, a sock, and a gold ankh.  When he woke up the next
morning, the first thing he noticed was a strange humming sound.  The
second thing he noticed was the large red moongate wedged between a desk
and the TV.  He sighed, groaning, then cursing.  He looked at the watch. 
6:30.  He pounded his head against the desk and looked up.  The moongate
was still there.  He cursed again, very loudly, and was glad that Lord
British couldn't hear what he just said.  But his sense of duty, his
Honor, demanded him to go.  With a world-weary sigh, he collected his
armor and his map of Britannia.  With one last longing glance around his
New Jersey house, he stepped through the gate. 
	He emerged on a brightly lit stone platform, surrounded with
several rings of pillars.  Stars shone in the void all around him.
	"Thou hast come, Avatar," said a voice very close by.  The Avatar
turned to look at the young/old form of the Time Lord.  "Britannia is in
grave peril," he continued.
	"Again?" sighed the Avatar.  "Fine, fine.  Send me there."
	"The passage will be perilous.  I must open a crack in reality to
send thee through.  I do not know where in Britannia thou wilt turn up. 
Take this," he gave the Avatar a scroll.  "Read this only in thy time of
need, for it will fail thee not.  Any other time and the advice it gives
will be useless.  Prepare for the journey."
	With the sense of blind idiocy and hope, the Avatar stood there,
waiting.  There was a blinding flash of light and a nauseous flipping
sensation.  He saw a thunderclap of pure smell, and the sound blinded his
tongue.  Then, it was all over, and he was standing on a grassy hill in a
glacial valley. 

XXIII

	The Avatar knelt before the Shrine, silent on this hallowed
ground.  The spot had been sacred for far longer than the Shrine had
existed, whether by sheer coincidence or the power of the ever-pervasive
ether.
	He rose, running a hand through his blond locks.  Years ago in his
own personal history he had meditated at this very shrine; of course, it
was much further into the past of Britannia's history that Denis Garriot
Ladyman became the Avatar, the embodiment of the principles of the Virtues
and savior of Britannia.  This spot was sacred to him for an altogether
different reason.
	He saw her coming down the path that wound through the topiary and
trellises long before she noticed him.  He took time to duck behind a
shrub before she rounded the last curve up to the Shrine of Compassion
proper.  Without a word, he watched as she began picking litter off of the
site, and scrubbing the stone with the bucket of water from the now-clean
Lock Lake.  Silently, he walked up behind her.  She continued her
scrubbing for a long while, oblivious to the man behind her.
	 It rapidly became apparent to the Avatar that Nastassia was not
really scrubbing, but weeping silently.  It pained him to see her like
that.  With a burst of decision, he knelt down beside her.  She half
looked up, past her long bangs matted with grief, not recognizing the man
at first.  Suddenly, her head snapped up.  "Avatar!  But how?"
	The Avatar shook his head and pulled Nastassia close.  "Why didst
thou leave me, Avatar?" she cried.  "Why?"
	"I had an opportunity to go home, my love," he said.
	"Am I less precious to thee than thy homeworld?" she asked, trying
to control her tears.  The Avatar frowned, and could say nothing.  They
both knew the truth.
	"I love thee more than the world," he replied, but, despite how
true it was, he knew it sounded hollow in his own ears. 

				-==O==-

	The Dragons slid silently down to the side of the mountain
opposite the pass.  Quickly, fifty archers dismounted and began to circle
the mountain into the sparse woodland on the northeastern edge of the
pass.  Without a word, the Dragons took off, winging eastward back to the
weyr. 

XXIV

	"The Lord Heather and the Lady Jaana have travelled to Britain,
under order of Lord British," Nastassia was saying.
	"Why?" he asked.  "If, as thou dost say, I have been gone for a few
months, I'm sure I am missing something."
	Nastassia frowned.  "There is a rumor that something has been
discovered in the Serpent's Spine that poses a great danger to our land. 
Lord British is calling men from all over Britannia -- even from as far as
Serpent's Hold -- to aid.  There is even rumor that an alliance has been
made with the Dragons."
	"Surely not!" the Avatar replied.
	"It's their land as much as it is ours," Nastassia replied.  She
had been looking at the sky; her eyes widened as she saw something.  The
Avatar followed her gaze, and saw it too: five dark dragon-shaped forms
flying in a rough pentagon, moving from the general direction of the east
toward Britain.  The Avatar blinked, danger sense pricking his spine. 

				-==O==-

	The caravan from Vesper and Minoc passed through Cove later that
day.  The men, mostly miners armed with pickaxe and shovel, knew that they
might be too late to aid in the mountains, but they would die trying. 
Bidding farewell to Nastassia (and knowing that he might not see her for a
long time thereafter) he joined the caravan.
	As luck would have it, one of the Minoc merchants recognized him
for who he was, though none of the other travellers would believe it. 
With a generously donated steed, some provisions, and high hopes, he rode
off ahead, through the pass west of Cove and south of the Bog of
Desolation, and on to Britain. 

				-==O==-

	The archers had moved into position on the northeast end of the
pass, unnoticed, with a clear view of the proceedings below.  They saw
that the pedestal had a fine tracery of gold and other precious metals;
marble shot through with streaks of brilliance.  The structure enclosing
the circle of stones was complete.  By all reckoning, there was another
twenty hours to go before the Guardian's attack. 

				-==O==-

	The Avatar, by luck or good fate, had a fast horse; and,
therefore, arrived in Britain the very day the last of the troops were to
be sent to the pass.  Word was sent by dragon to Lord British, camped in
the farming town, and presently a dragon came to retrieve him.  There
would be time for celebrating later...if there was a later.
	"I do not like dragons," he muttered as he climbed onto the black
dragon's back.  The dragon chuckled, silver eyes glinting, and took off. 

				-==O==-

	Kilts stood on the edge of the rock, tense.  The sky to the east
was starting to brighten, drawing the long night to an end.  An end, he
thought.  How ironic.
	Dark Vengeance came to stand next to him, quietly hoping that
whatever wrath the Guardian inflicted, it would be over quickly. 

				-==O==-

	Syria and her forces set up along the southwest wall of the
northern end of the pass.  To her southwest, the first dragons were
already waiting, listening for the signal to attack.  She clenched her
sword, ready for whatever might come. 

XXV

	Bane Dragon, Geo Dragon, Peates Dragon, Morbius Dragon, and Astral
Dragon formed up in mid-flight upon departing the farming village.  The
lush fields and croplands of the Greater Britain basin fell swiftly away
behind them; within moments, they were winging over low hills covered with
trees.  In the distance, yet drawing near, towered the impressive peaks of
the Serpent's Spine.  Twenty minutes later, they were gliding out of the
sky to the pre-selected landing site, in a hollow out of sight of the
pass.
	"Bane Wing from Highlock," Bane said to the dragon on duty.  The
dragon saluted them, acknowledging their technical higher rank, made a
mark on a page and told them to report to a hidden cave nearby.  Inside,
on a floor shaped strangely like an ampitheater, wings and wings of
dragons clustered.  Down on the floor, some thirty feet below, Rendell and
Karma were pacing.
	"Dragons, we will now begin the briefing." 

				-==O==-

	The Avatar hunched behind the rock, staring at the goblin camp
below.  In the past three hours he had been greeted, briefed, armed, and
delivered to the pass like a common soldier.  It was an experience
completely alien to him, made all the more shocking by the presence of
dragons who not only carried an air of civility but seemed to idolize him. 
Especially the black one, with the silver eyes, he thought.
	Further down the line, Patrick Spence squatted with Codex and
Grignard.  He was oblivious to the red-caped figure only yards southeast
of him; he was scared spitless as it was.
	"Avatar!" Grignard hissed.  Spence ignored him, not realizing that
it wasn't a plea for help from the beyond.  He saw a flash of red out of
the corner of his eye.
	"Yes...Grignard?" the Avatar said, and Spence's eyes went wide.
	"Avatar, this is the man.  Patrick Spence of Earth."
	The Avatar looked at Spence's dark hair and wiry frame.  "Never
saw a more different Avatar than you," he smiled.  Spence sat there and
gibbered quietly in silent awe, composing himself in time for Karma,
Kilts, Aiel, and Umbrae. 
	"Ah, I see that the two of thee hast met," whispered Karma.  The
Avatar smiled.  "I have faith in you, Spence.  You know your stuff,
otherwise you wouldn't be here, right?"
	Spence smiled, weakly.  "Sorry, Avatar.  I'm just still stunned by
all of this.  How do YOU handle it all?"
	The Avatar smiled.  "I don't.  I get the job done first, then I
panic.  Saves time."
	"Look!" whispered Kilts.  Far below, in the pass, the mass of
goblins had parted around the circular pedestal.  Atop it -- the top of
the pedestal simply looked wrong, as if something were trying to push
through the fabric of reality.
	There was a flash of light, and the object was everywhere and
nowhere at once.  Suddenly, it came to rest on the pedestal, a perfect
fit.  It was a cylinder, black as night, two meters high by one round. 
The Avatar gasped, recognizing it.  Spence thought he had seen it
somewhere else, too.  Karma and the other dragons did not recognize it.
With a shock of realization, the Avatar realized what the Guardian was
planning.  Spence came to the same conclusion moments later. 
	Codex frowned.  "Something wrong, Avatar?" 
	"You bet there is," he sighed.  "That's the Dark Core of Exodus." 

XXVI

	"What dost thou think?" asked Karma.
	"We can't get to the Core," stated Grignard.  "Too many goblins."
	"Could we fly in and...pick it up?" asked Codex, making an
illustrative gesture with her hand.  The waning sunlight (odd, thought
Spence; it was 10:00 in the morning) glinted strangely off the Core's
black surface.
	"No good," replied the Avatar.  "I touched it, once, on the Isle of
Fire.  I was unconscious for hours afterwards.  The images; the senses...
can't thou believe I actually knew it all for at least a split-second? 
Everything there was to know about Britannia?"
	Spence snapped his fingers.  "That's it.  The Dark Core is a
product of Britannia, right?"
	"Yesss," replied the Avatar, unsure of Spence's point.
	"What if the Guardian had to bring it here before he used it?  What
if it is somehow tied to the land?"
	The Avatar considered this.  "I see thy point.  If he could...do
whatever he plans on doing elsewhere, Britannia would have been destroyed
long ago.  I somehow feel that it's all my fault," he sighed.
	"How?"
	"When I sent the Core into the Void, on the Isle of Fire...I left
it for anyone with the power to retrieve it.  Like the Guardian."
	"Yeah, but if you'd left it in Britannia, Exodus would have
reformed.  I've played Forge of Virtue, Avatar," replied Spence.  Karma
looked at Aiel in bewilderment.  Neither had any idea what the two humans
were talking about.
	"I've seen Exodus face to face -- I've fought him, with aid from
the Time Lord.  I've even seen the Guardian, actually coming through the
Black Gate.  Believe me, Patrick Spence.  I'd rather face a hundred
Exodus's than one Guardian."
	"Yeah, but could'st thou beat Exodus again?" asked Karma.  The
question rained on them like a dark pall.  It was almost a challenge.
	From afar, there was the piercing cry of a horn, and a cloud of
shapes briefly blotted out what was left of the sun.  "Wild Dragons,"
hissed Kilts, subconsciously reaching for his dragonsword.
	One of the Wild Dragons, wearing shimmering mail like that used by
all Dragons in true combat alighted nearby.  He strode boldly, arrogantly
up to the group.  "I am Thrakkhrar, Emperor of the Keh'shansharasha.  Who
amongst thee is in charge here?"
	"I am," replied Umbrae, none too pleasantly, remembering the past.
	Thrakkhrar smiled, cruelly sharp teeth glinting in the rapidly
decreasing light.  "I have come to fight for fair Britannia."
	"Dost thou wish an alliance with the Dragons of the Grand Council?"
	Thrakkhrar spat on the ground before Umbrae and laughed.  "We do
not wish an 'alliance' with thee...we do not ally with those that have
forsaken their claim as a Dragon.  A shame, to think, that thee...Umbrae,"
he smiled, "one of the only Keh'shansharasha to openly reject their
birth...and my cousin, to boot...that thou would'st DARE ask for
alliance."  He drew his sword and gestured at the goblins below.  "We will
fight, but not ally.  Stay our of our way," he warned, "and we'll stay out
of thine."  Cackling, he sheathed his sword and took off. 

XXVII

	They watched as Thrakkhrar winged off into the dark sky.  In the
dim, shifting light of massive, improvised bonfires below in the pass, the
Avatar smiled, wryly.  "Well, their help is better than no help, I
suppose."
	Kilts hissed, and glared off at the forms of the Wild Dragons
circling at the base of the low clouds.  "They're fighting the Guardian,
but only because they want Britannia for themselves."
	Grignard held up a hand, sharp claws glowing dimly in the
firelight.  "Ssh," he hissed, a sound that fulfilled its intent of
quieting the party and then some.  "I hear more horns."
	The horns sounded once, far off.  Minutes later, they sounded
again, much clearer.  The sky above was by now almost pitch black with
roiling cloud.  Codex looked up momentarily, worried.
	The horns sounded again, very close, and Spence thought he could
see, further south in the pass, a large number of men; their swords
glinted dimly like a smattering of oblong stars in a sea of pale grey. 
Almost as if in answer, a monsoon of arrows rained down from Tseramed's
archers, along the northeast wall down onto the goblins below.
	The Battle for Britannia had begun.
	The host of Lord British was clearly defined now, and wonder of
wonders, the Avatar thought, was Lord British himself leading the column. 
The last amount of sunlight in the air glinted off a large golden ankh
briefly; afterward, the only light in the pass was from torches and the
fires.
	Suddenly, with an echoing cry, a tidal wave of Dragons, knights,
bandits, warriors, and anybody who could wield a weapon competently
appeared, under the banners of Yew, Empath Abbey, and Jhelom.  With a
flash of his sword, Lord British signalled the charge.
	All was mayhem in a mere five seconds.  The men and soldiers of
Britain, Cove, Vesper and Serpent's Hold rushed north, up the pass, and
fell upon the edges of the goblins.  Behind them, visible only now, were a
host of reddish winged creatures: Gargoyles from Vesper and Terfin.
	From the north, Syria's host led their charge, followed closely
behind by Dark Vengeance and Skyblade, who had rounded up anybody and
everybody in New Dawn; most were drunk witless, but angry enough at the
gall of the Guardian...how DARE he threaten to destroy Britannia and all
the liquor within...
	From the northeast, and elsewhere, came the flame and steel of the
Wild Dragons; as did the bolts, flame, and arrows of the Dragons of the
Grand Council.  In seconds, the air was filled with cries, smoke, arrows,
and the beating wings of dragons.  Again, in seconds, the offensive was
over, and the defensive had begun.  Although the Brittanians and the
Dragons had pushed the goblins almost all the way back to the pedestal and
ringstones, the goblins had retreated rather than resisted and, as such,
were now able to launch a clustered attack for a few moments before
Skyblade managed to cross around the edge of the goblins and had managed
to pen in the goblins.  It didn't matter; a minute later, there was a
blinding nova of light and a blast of wind from the ringstones. 

XXVIII

	"I belong with my Dragons!" yelled Black Wolf, trying to push his
way past Immortal and Monomolecular.
	"Sorry, Black Wolf," said Monomolecular, reaching for reagents and
chanting a few words: BET AN POR.  Black Wolf's legs went slack, and he
howled in fury.  "LET ME PASS!" he shrieked.  Immortal grabbed him and
tossed him over his shoulder.
	"Where art thou taking me?!" the wolf continued to cry.  Mono
grinned back, a grin that made Black Wolf's blood run cold, yet there was
no hint of malice or ill intent behind that grin.  "Black Wolf, tell me
about thy parents." 
	"My parents?  Ulp!" the wolf squealed as Immortal leapt off the
porch and spiraled down to Mono's weyr.
	"Yes, thy parents," replied Mono.  Seeing no other path of action,
the wolf replied, "Two very fine wolves.  Ma was a bit odd, though..."
	"Yes," muttered Mono.  "And her parents?"
	"Two outstanding wolves," he replied, somewhat confused. 
	They touched down on Mono's ledge.
	"And one of them was also rather...odd?"
	"Yes, as a matter of fact."
	Immortal laid Black Wolf down on a mattress and lit six candles
around it; Mono began chanting something.  Black Wolf's eyes widened, and
he passed out.  Immortal shrugged and started chanting, tossing reagents
on the limp wolf. 

			-==O==-

	Hundreds of years earlier, all Dragons lived in the valleys above
what would eventually be known as Cove.  They worshipped at a site later
occupied by the Shrine of Compassion; a very holy spot.
	For ages the three races of Dragonkind lived in an uneasy peace,
until one race, the Keh'shansharasha, claimed superiority by virtue of
Strength.
	A bloody war over that holy spot was fought for a hundred years; a
good lifetime for most Dragons.  At the end of it all, the temple had been
destroyed.  The Keh'shansharasha blamed the oldest of the three races,
whose name has been lost forever to the mists of time, on the temple's
destruction.  What followed was possibly the bloodiest holocaust in all of
Britannia's pre- history.
	The youngest of the three races, who preferred to live in caverns
instead of the forests (as had their ancestors), tried to mediate the war
between the Elder Race and the Keh'shansharasha.  The appointed leader of
the cavern-dwellers, a dragon by the name of Rikkh'et, was openly attacked
by both of the two races; with the numbers of his followers decimated, he
had no choice but to flee west over the mountains and, eventually, to the
Serpent's Spine and the Weyr.  This was the event known as the Sundering,
or Rikkh'et's Flight, and the Dragons of the Grand Council start their
years with this event. 
	Shortly before the Keh'shansharasha exterminated the last of the
Elder race, one of the great Elder scholar/mages cast a spell upon his
firstborn son, so that the ancient magic might survive the holocaust.  His
son he gave the form of a wolf, and, as such, he was the only to survive
the massacre.  The Keh'shansharasha continued to live in Cove until the
fall of Mondain, when the earth was reshaped, and they were forced to
flee. 

XXIX

	Meanwhile, the wolf went out among the world.  Over the years, his
descendants carried the blood of the Elder Dragons in their veins, each
successive generation losing the memory of their distinct past.  Until,
one day, hundreds of years later, two dragons discovered a line in
Kassekkh's writings... 

				-==O==-

	Black Wolf twisted and writhed on the rushbag, the blood pounding
in his veins.  Immortal waved his hands, and chanted five sharp words. 
Mono continued in suit, ending with VAS FLAM UUS...the rushbag exploded in
blue flame, and Black Wolf screamed.
	The scream, and the magic, awakened whatever latent power left in
his blood after all those generations.  With a wrenching, increasingly
dragon-like howl, Black Wolf...changed -- his dark, matted fur sloughed
off in waves, revealing bare, pink skin underneath.  But under the skin
the muscles were reknitting themselves on the back, and on the shoulders. 
Two knobby projections appeared above his forearms as his neck elongated,
his muzzle grew into a long, tapering snout, and his ears flattened and
arched back into a fan of flesh.  Glistening grey scales appeared on his
spine, curling down his flanks to his feet; which had grown a hindclaw
each.  The twin swellings on his back burst open with a spray of fluid and
two diminutive wings, silver and still glistening, spread forth.  The
proto-dragon howled and creeled as a fire began rumbling in his belly; he
released first flame in an explosive gout of fire.  The wings continued to
grow, as did the torso.  The tail lengthened to a length proportional to
the rest of the body -- exactly the length of the wings from root to tip. 
The new dragon blinked twice, still whimpering.  Mono looked amusedly at
the transformed creature as several tufts of grey fur appeared at odd
locations.
	"What happened," Black Wolf croaked, too weak to move.
	Mono licked his lips, unsure of where to begin. 

				-==O==-

	Ten minutes later, Black Wolf Dragon spread his silvery wings in
first flight, soaring off for the first time on his own.  Mono and
Immortal followed close behind, and after the flight across peaks and
vales, came upon the pass just as something bright flashed from the center
of the ringstones. 

				-==O==-

	The Avatar loosed another Swordstrike at the nearest goblins,
cutting four to bloody rags and cleanly decapitating a fifth.  He wondered
how much longer he could keep it up; his mana was draining, a sensation
strangely akin to being incredibly tired after an extended time awake.
Suddenly, in a blast of wind and a sheet of lightning, he realized that
the battle for Britannia had only just begun... 

				-==O==-

	Down in the pass, centered in the covered ringstones, a
featureless black slab had suddenly sprung into existence.  The goblins
moved back, and even the Britannians stopped fighting in sudden shock.
	In the dead center of the moongate a blue ripple appeared.  There
was a strobing flash of light, and a red hand pressed out of the inky
void, followed by a foot.  The arms followed next, and the legs, and a
well-muscled chest.  The head looked slowly from side to side above,
yellow eyes glowing with maniacal delight.
	The Guardian had come. 

XXX

	Time seemed to stop as he looked up and down the pass, almost as
if he was looking for something, or someone...
	"You," he said, smiled, and pointed, voice full of annoyance.
	He was looking at the Avatar.
	"Long have I awaited this," the Guardian roared.  A man, probably
from New Dawn due to his seeming state of intoxication, made a suicide
charge at the red beast on the dais; the Guardian simply brushed him aside
like an insect, impaling him, twitching, on a twisted rock spire.
	"Jux'a ylemi orta," Monomolecular was chanting, but nothing was
happening.  A bead of sweat ran off his brow ridge, splashed to the
ground.
	"This land, and all within, is MINE!" the Guardian roared, blasting
a boulder into flying slivers of rock with a wave of his hand as a
punctuation mark.  He smiled cruelly up at the Avatar, perched on his
hilltop half a mile away.  "You yourself have provided me with the final
link in my plan," he cackled, gesturing to the Dark Core sitting, almost
innocently, on it's pedestal.
	The Avatar felt a hot flush of fury flash across his cheeks.  He
shot a fireball into the air; it rocketed upward with a thunderclap of
displaced, ionized air.  "I shall defeat you again!" he shouted.
	The Guardian laughed and shot a fireball at a nearby group of
Dragons.  Most of them managed to dodge; Vengeance, though, was unlucky
enough to catch the blast full on.  The brief cry of pain echoed
throughout the pass, and Monomolecular roared in anger.  "Jux'a ylemi
ort'a!" he tried again, but the ancient spell would not work.
	"We will not be held in thy thrall!" Lord British yelled, raising
his fist defiantly.  The Guardian laughed again, walking down the walkway
to the Core.  "You, old friend Lord British, have no place to resist!  ALL
will fall under my control!"  With a joy in his eyes, he sat down upon a
stone bench and pointed at the goblins.  "Let it begin!" he ordered,
impatient.
	"Jux'a ylema ort'a juxa!" Mono tried, beginning to quake in
frustration.  "Isanct sanct'a ylem lor...sanct lor!"
	Nothing.
	The Goblins had moved two large lenses around, focusing light from
two huge bonfires onto a large flat panel.  The gold tracery on the
pedestal began to shimmer, then glow.
	A blue haze appeared between two short pillars mounted before the
bench.  There was a roaring of wind, and a ghostly cry echoed up and down
the pass.
	"Pain, dejection, disappointment..." it wailed.
	"Exodus!" the Guardian cried.  "I have come for you!"
	A white sheet washed across the Avatar's face, remembering
Erethian's words to him a few months ago on the Isle of Fire.  Words about
Exodus's psyche regenerating...
	"Failure.  Useless knowledge," the voice continued.
	"If we join our powers, we shall take Britannia for ourselves!" the
Guardian screamed.
	"Hope?" the voice asked.
	"Yes!  Join with me!"
	"Opportunity...knowledge...power...combination!"
	"Join with me!"
	"Seek...power...and knowledge --"
	"-- to destroy!  Britannia --"
	"-- will fall! --"
	"-- AGREEMENT!"
	There was a blinding flash of light. 

XXXI

	The Avatar looked up, into the raging wind, and felt another
sudden surge of horror in the pit of his stomach.
	The Core and the Guardian were glowing, connected by faint
tendrils of energy.  The Guardian twisted and convulsed in the interface,
and the Core vibrated, producing a wailing, earsplitting hum.  The
Guardian's skin was suddenly shot through with a sliver of color, bright
gold against red.  He seemed to double in size, although the Avatar
somehow knew that was an illusion caused by the scorching wind.  A bolt of
lightning shot out of the frantic clouds, striking the Guardian several
times.  And, amid all this, the Guardian seemed to take on a new light of
his own...
	Monomolecular cried as a pebble, seared hot by the wind, slapped
his right earflap and scored it.  He looked at the parchment and yelled
the spell again, to no avail.  He simply could not muster the magic.
	Bane Wing was trying to circle high overhead, but was caught in
the increasing whirlwind.  Astral was tossed around, and knocked out of
formation.
	There was a sudden BOOM-WOOSH, and a fireball erupted from the
dais.  Astral, caught at the edge, felt a searing flash of pain as a
tendril of flame burnt his wing.  He fell to the earth in a short arc,
howling.
	Further in, Morbius caught the fireball full on.  He only felt a
momentary flash of heat before the world went dark. 
	Bane wheeled around at the sight of Astral falling to the earth,
and Peates tried to follow, but the expanding fireball caught up to him. 
He felt the fire scorch his tail, then his legs.  In an angry rage he
tossed a white object to the ground; it landed next to the Core just as
his wings were seared.  In a final scream of fury felt the skin on his
face sizzle before his world too went dark.
	Bane and Geo managed to catch Astral in mid fall as the fireball
burned itself out.  They lowered the injured dragon behind their own
lines, whispering words of encouragement, but they knew that, even with
magical aid, Astral would never fly again.
	The pass was as silent as if life had never existed there.  Bodies
of goblins and dragons and humans alike, burned to ashes, lined the floor
of the pass.  A stench of roasted meat wafted past the Avatar, and he did
what any sane man in his position would do, and did it all over the rocks
below.
	Far below, on the blackened dais, a golden creature shifted and
stood.  He looked around at the destruction and cackled.  He raised a hand
and blasted apart a distant mountain peak, then grinned.
	"We are one!" it yelled in a cascading duet of voices.  "We have
the power, and the knowledge!  We are Exodus!" the golden beast screamed.
	"He's still as ugly as ever," coughed Immortal as he reproportioned
reagents.
	With a stroke of Exodus's hands, eighty men fell, victims of a
Mindblast spell, brains strewn around at random.  Another stroke, and a
ball of rock caught Geo in the back of the head.  He fell, never knowing
what hit him.  Another ball hit Bane, crushing one wing. 

XXXII

	Monomolecular was beyond rage now, at the sight of his friends'
injuries.  He roared a silent curse to the Great Fate Spirit, then shoved
a bewildered Immortal out of the way and headed for Black Wolf, who was
reloading his triple crossbow.
	"What now?" he yelled over the din of Exodus's attacks.
	"Thou hast the blood of the Ancient Dragons," Mono yelled back. 
"There is something thou must do!"
	"Anything!" Black Wolf replied. 

				-==O==-

	Astral cried and shrieked as Imbrium tended to his wing, finally
smearing it with a weed that killed pain.  She next turned to the maimed
form of Bane, shuddering at the sight of the bleeding stump of a left
wing.  She did all she could to stabilize him, then had several other
dragons carry them back to Highlock, a twenty minute flight.
	Geo was unconscious, with fractures to the neck and skull. 
Morbius and Peates had both burned to death in the fireball; their bodies
were lying side by side, scorched, still smoking, died having known that
they had fulfilled an ancient prophecy.  Imbrium, though, didn't know;
with a cry of anger and loss, she hurled a stone at an old goblin that had
somehow strayed too far from his camp.  The stone smashed the goblin's
skull, sending his twitching form to oblivion. 

				-==O==-

	"Jux'ai orta a'ylemi," Black Wolf was chanting.  Nearby, a sphere
of light was forming.  "Isanct lor'a'a, sanct lor..." 

				-==O==-

	The Avatar crouched low behind the stone, as if a few feet of rock
would offer any protection from Exodus's lethal assault.  Already he had
witnessed an entire mountain crumble under the attack; he had watched,
helpless, as the forces of beloved Britannia were swiftly decimated... 

				-==O==-

	Immortal and Black Wolf were chanting to themselves, Mono noted. 
He shuffled quickly along the wall of the pass, avoiding Exodus's gaze
with every step.  Here...this spot would be perfect.  He waited for
Black Wolf's spell to take effect. 

				-==O==-

	"Vax ani an jux'a yelor," Black Wolf shouted.  "Anix anima sancti,
dox nul iskar cra gaas.  IN REL SANCTA YLOR YLEM!"
	Up and down the pass, each and every dragon began to glow, faintly
at first, then with an increasing silver radiance.  Exodus paused,
briefly, then continued his attack with renewed strength. 

				-==O==-

	Monomolecular felt a strange tingling spread across his body.  He
looked and noticed that his hands were glowing bright silver.
	The spell was working.  A'ron's prophecy had been fulfilled after
all; Black Wolf had the blood and the feel of the Ether as the Dragon
ancients did.
	With a mighty heave of effort, he jumped almost horizontally into
a crazed dive. 

				-==O==-

	Something had been nagging the Avatar recently.  It was only until
he remembered the scroll that he realized what it was.  Swiftly unrolling
it (surely THIS counted as 'dire need') he read the one word written on it
aloud: DUCK

XXXIII

	The Avatar puzzled over the word for a second.  Duck?  Of all the
times for the Time Lord to show a sense of humor.  Then, suddenly, it hit
him.
	Or rather, it DIDN'T hit him; it just rocketed over his head with
inches to spare as he hurled himself to the ground: a large, silvery-black
thing with wings.
	He watched in astonishment as Monomolecular hurled himself down
the pass, then ripple from one point to another in the hallmark shimmer of
a Blink spell. 

				-==O==-

	Black Wolf pointed at Monomolecular as he teleported at high
speed.  Immortal could do nothing but gape. 

				-==O==-

	Monomolecular saw a human, red-clad, flatten himself out of the
way as he soared down the hill.  Closing his eyes, he willed the power to
work, and a thing was in his hands.  A second later, he felt the familiar
rushing-wind sensation of teleportation.  He opened his eyes and grinned
against the wind, shrieking wildly.  The golden thing flashed close, then
he felt a bone-jarring impact. 

				-==O==-

	Exodus watched, amused, as a man's intestines exploded at his
feet.  Just then, there was a flash of light nearby.  He turned and was
hit, hard... 

				-==O==-

	Lord British and Spence cried as one, down on the floor of the
pass, at what they had just seen.  It was impossible.  They barely noticed
the Avatar scrambling up to them; what had just occurred up on the dais
was too stunning to accept as true.
	One of the dragons had hurled himself down the hill, then
teleported to a location a few feet from Exodus.  He had hit the golden
beast at what was nearly eighty miles an hour, striking him broadside with
a white object...
	Lord British, Spence, and the Avatar watched Exodus and
Monomolecular grapple on the ground, a full six hundred feet from where
Exodus had been standing prior to the impact.  They saw their chance, and
took it.  Hands high, they began chanting... 

				-==O==-

	"FOOL!" Exodus roared, not noticing a splinter of something stuck
in his ribs, and Mono felt his hot breath on his neck.  "YOU CANNOT BEST
ME!" the golden beast screamed, and with a mighty punch Mono felt, dimly,
himself being hurled across the pass.
	But his strengths were not depleted.
	In one last move before unconsciousness took him, Monomolecular
willed a large stone to smash the glowing Core on the pedestal.  Then, all
went black. 

				-==O==-

	"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" Exodus shrieked as the Dark Core exploded into a
hundred tiny slivers.  He felt as if he was on fire; felt a raging
hurricane in his mind, didn't feel his strength draining through a small
point in his ribs.
	With a shocking suddenness, he fell to the ground, screaming, as
all the knowledge of Exodus, shattered, left him.  He stood, weakly...the
Guardian once more. 

				-==O==-

	Denis Garriot Ladyman, Lord British, and Patrick Edgar Spence
stood at the vertices of an invisible triangle.  They had called upon a
powerful magic to defeat the Guardian; one so powerful that only one of
Earth could cast it. 

XXXIV

	The Guardian staggered back up onto the dais, studying the
shattered remains of the Dark Core with detached curiosity.  He reeled
back under a sudden blast from the Avatar; a blow which snapped him back
to his senses.
	"I'm shattered," he mocked, launching a ball of rock at the Avatar. 
Other than making him wince slightly under the impact, it had no harmful
effect.  The Guardian frowned at the unexpected failure and tried a
different tactic.  "You haven't seen the last of me!  Even WITHOUT Exodus
I'm still stronger than you realize!"
	"How strong?" challenged Spence.
	"I can blast mountains apart with a gaze!" he boasted.
	"Yes, yes," replied Lord British, attempting to seem singularly
unimpressed.  "We saw that.  What ELSE can you do?"
	"I CAN DO ANYTHING!" he yelled.
	"You can?" spat the Avatar.
	"YES!"
	The Avatar looked at Spence and Lord British for a short moment,
and when he turned a streamer of energy shot from his fingertips.  "Then
GO TO HELL!" the Avatar screamed.
	The energy connected with the Guardian's body, and the red beast
was lifted off the dais.  There was, for a fleeting moment, spectral
letters in midair, much to Spence's amusement: HACK MOVER...Y.
	"STOOOOP!" the Guardian screamed.
	"Had enough?" Spence taunted.
	"I SHALL RETURN!" he shrieked.  "I SHALL CRACK THE GROUND UNDER
YOUR FEET, AVATAR!  I SHALL TURN YOUR CELEBRATION INTO DESPAIR!  SEE HOW
THE ONES ALREADY UNDER MY RULE TREAT YOU!"
	"I grow tired with you, Guardian," spat the Avatar.  With a shriek
of fury, the Guardian was thrown through the air, down into the moongate. 
With a flash and a wrenching howl of twisted space, the Moongate, and all
the evil creatures in the pass, were gone. 

				-==O==-

	Monomolecular awoke a moment later, to eerie quiet.  Was this the
afterlife? he wondered.  Am I in the Mountain?  What of those dreams? 
Something had happened...
	"Mono?" said a voice, very near.  He turned his head and looked up
at a familiar face.
	"Imbrium?"
	"He's alive!" Imbrium called, helping Monomolecular to his feet. 
Mono redressed his armor (it had somehow slipped during the impact).
	"Is it over?" he asked, still slightly dazed.
	"It's over," said the Avatar.  "We won."
	"Good."  Mono looked up, and said.  "The sun is out.  I am weary. 
I am going home." 

				-==O==-

	"Spectacle.  Dark Vengeance.  Morbius.  Peates.  Dead..."
	Slowly, without inflection, Rendell read off the names of the
dragons that had perished in the battle.  Monomolecular cried profusely
during the service; many of the dragons named had been good friends of
his.
	"These Dragons died while protecting their land.  They died with
honor.  We shall remember them always."
	"Flames," ordered Umbrae, and the fifteen dragons lit off, one by
one, setting the funeral pyres for the deceased.
	"Great Spirit Under the Mountain, take these souls in Honor.  Be as
good to them in death as they were to us in life.  Let them rest with the
knowledge that their lives were not wasted.  En'ai."
	"En'ai," the dragons said. 

XXXV

	Monomolecular stood on the weyr floor, looking at the burnt spots
where only a few hours earlier the pyres had burned.
	"Art thou all right?" asked Karma.
	"They shouldn't have died, Kah'rmaa.  They died too soon."
	"Thou didst all that thou could'st.  'Twas very brave of thee, what
thou didst."
	"'TWAS MY FAULT!" Monomolecular roared.  "If I had asked Black Wolf
to cast the spell earlier, Morbius and the rest would have survived!" 
	"Ono'mekkhlyr," said Karma.  Mono looked up; Karma had never called
him by his birthname before.  "Mono, look.  They fulfilled the Great
Prophecy.  They died to protect what they loved.  That is the biggest
sacrifice of all."
	"Leave me," said Mono.  "I want to be alone." 

				-==O==-

	He was rather unable to sleep that night.  His dreams were filled
with visions: Geo, lying wounded on the ground.  Vengeance, roasted to a
cinder in the Guardian's first assault.  Peates, being slowly consumed by
the fireball, his death-knell echoing through the air...
	He awoke in a cold sweat.  It was still dark out, but the room
seemed unnaturally bright.
	"There still is hope," said a voice.
	Mono turned slowly to look at a shifting blue cloud, with a human
face. 
	"There is a future for your race now, Mono, and you can give it to
them."
	"Who art thou?" Mono asked the vision.
	"I am many," replied the face.  "Some know me as the Time Lord. 
You know me as the Spirit of Fate.  To still others I represent Balance."
	"What can I do?"
	"What you must, to finish the prophecy of A'ron for once and for
all," the voice replied, and Mono was alone. 

				-==O==-

	The fragments of the Core had been painstakingly gathered and the
Core reassembled on the weyr floor.  Monomolecular watched, uninterested,
as the Gargoyle lens and the Britannian lenses were erected to each side.
	The dragons and Britannians had been puzzled; they had managed to
rebuild the Core, but one fragment was still missing.  None knew its
whereabouts, and none cared.  As long as the Core was not whole, it was
worthless.
	The fires were lit, and the Core vanished into the Void. 

				-==O==-

	The stabbing pain in his leg awoke Mono later that night.  He
groped around until his fingers encountered a hard, solid object imbedded
deeply in his flesh.  With a grunt of pain, he pulled it out.
	He laughed.  Of course.  It was the missing fragment.  It had
imbedded itself in his leg when the Core exploded, and he had covered it
up when he had adjusted his armor.
	He screamed detachedly at the sight of the blood gushing from his
thigh, a scream which brought dragons running.  Swiftly, he hid the Last
Shard in his bed, and was smiling as the dragons carried him off to the
sickwey. 

EPILOGUE: THE TALE OF MONOMOLECULAR

	In ancient times there was a Dragon known as Monomolecular.  He
had fought in the great War of Union, many years ago.
	The war left many of his friends dead.  Monomolecular grieved, for
he had loved them dearly, and had not wanted to see them go.
	Then, in a vision, he saw the Great Spirit of Fate, and he knew
what needed to be done.
	 He took the Last Shard of Exodus and left the weyr.  For a
sen'night he walked, bathed in the tears of his own sorrow, until he came
to the Holiest Mountain at Cove.  And there, on the floor of the Temple of
Compassion, he made a plea to the Spirit of Those Under the Mountain.
	And he said, Spirit, take my soul so that my friends may live once
again!  With this Shard, I show my dedication until thee!"  And he took
the Last Shard and pierced his own throat, and bled his life-blood upon
the sacred soil.
	The Spirits took pity, for in the ultimate act of Compassion on
the ground his Kin had destroyed in combat, he too had performed the
ultimate sacrifice:  just as his friends had given their lives to protect
what they loved, so had Monomolecular given his life for love of his
friends.
	But the Spirit would not take him, for he was so generous with his
life and his love that it would not allow him to depart from his destiny
so soon.
	And the Spirit of Fate took him, and said 'Thou didst prove thy
love for thy friends.  Thou shalt be returned to the Weyr, to guide the
new lives of thy Kin.'
	And so it was done.
	For once and for all. 

				-==O THE END O==-

[Note made upon the completion of the editing: As I think about it,
perhaps the Tale of Monomolecular is more prophetic in
itself...considering everything I felt for the old club.]

	Monomolecular would like to thank all the Dragons that inspired
him to write this story, especially Gold Dragon (Doug Ricket) for creating
the Dragons in the first place.  He would also like to thank his close
friends for simply being that.  Most of all, he would like to thank
Richard Garriot, creator of the Ultima series, for giving him something to
write about.