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Five Dragons: TLoP: Chapter 25: Disconnected


Before the Guardians, there were others who carried the burden of the Balance on their shoulders.

The Shadowdragons.

None of the creatures known today could ever do justice to this dragons. Enormous strength, razor-sharp intelligence and powerful magic were the attributes that this breed called its own. Called by the Immortals, to lead and protect this world.

But they failed.

Arrogance, envy and hunger for power spread increasingly among the Shadowdragons, which ended in bloody fights among them. The world shook under the enormous forces that were released in these selfish struggles. The folks, who were supposed to be under their protection, were helpless at the mercy of their wrath and greed, and the few among them, who still held to the burden of the Balance, could not do anything against their aspiring counterparts.

They all shared the fate of their renegade brothers and sisters.

The earth threatened to break under the huge conflict, until the immortals intervened. And after the fog had lifted, only scattered Shadowdragons were left on the rugged land. The last survivors of this kind were bound in human form by the Immortals and condemned to a life as ordinary mortals, where they should survive one life after another, unknowing of their true form and past.


“He seems to be waking up.” A voice interrupted his quiet words and Aaros looked up from the book. He gazed attentively at the man at the door with his cloudy eyes. With a confident nod, he closed the book and went up to him.

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Dark clouds circled around a black tower. The rumble of thunder echoed from the walls of the fortress, and a flashing lightning struck over the roof. Shadow armors moved behind the battlements and kept looking attentively at the area. Yellow, dim lights shimmered unnaturally from the holes in their helmets, accompanied by a slightly hissing gasp.

On the broad path through the fortress gate, the guard spotted a large carriage and several figures.

The senses of the creature on the barred cart crept back. A slight pain ran through her chest and stopped her breathing for a moment. Her eyes were still in shadow and the soft creak of wooden wheels caught her ears. Then her gaze faded again and there was silence.


Kyndle's eyes opened quickly as she stared into the dark shimmering eye sockets of a silver mask. She contracted her pupils into slits, threateningly hissing at the stranger through the thick bars. He was unimpressed and giggled softly to himself.

The dragoness let exhausted go of her threat and sank to the ground. It was difficult for her to breathe. A metal muzzle had been pulled over her snout and fastened to the back of her head with thick leather straps. Heavy chains also lay around her legs and didn't leave her much room for movement. Her tail was also tied. The metal ring was at the bony tip and was fixed tightly to the cage ceiling with a rope. Her growl came only muffled through her muzzle and every breath snapped through her chest like a pinprick.

The man greedily moved around the cage, rubbing his hands with relish. Behind him stood a small pyramid on the floor with a crystal ball on top. In it she recognized a rotating whirlpool. Her eyes widened slightly when she looked into the rotating blackness and shortly afterwards she felt an overwhelming emptiness inside. Kyndle was shocked to find that Roland's soul was gone. She couldn’t feel him anymore. Her eyes sank sadly when she noticed this devouring hole in her mind.

A threatening glow shone from Kargesh's eyes when he recognized her reaction. “How easy it is, again and again, to cause pain.” Gasped his voice through the bars. “Don't worry, I don't mean to kill him.” His eyes fell greedily on the orange-red dragoness and he leaned over to the cage. “I'll just hurt him a little, like to you. Hehehehe…“ He gasped with his head tilted.

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“Kyndle!” Roland screamed loudly up to the ceiling when he woke up. He stared at the wall, breathing heavily, and reached into the air. With a blank look in his eyes, he felt the deep pain that Kyndle was gone. He could hardly bear the gaping loneliness in his soul, as if it were tearing him apart from the inside. “She's not here.” He heard a quiet voice next to him. He looked sideways in surprise and saw Mardon sitting on a chair next to the bed. He smiled visibly pleased at Roland.

“Where is she?” The young man asked dejectedly. Mardon exhaled heavily and lowered his face slightly. “We don't know.” He replied with a slow head swing. Roland closed his eyes, pressed out the first drops of his grief. “I was hoping,” Mardon began confidently, “That you would be able to find her again. You know, like back then in Stronos.” He looked at Roland for a long moment. “I can't.” He sobs softly. “I ... I don't feel her, she is ... I ...” Mardon comfortedly put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him quietly. “I know what that must feel like.” “No! You don't!” Roland snapped at him in a shaky voice as he got up hesitantly and walked up to the window. He put both hands on the glass and leaned his forehead, casting the sad look of his wet eyes outside. “You have no idea what a breaking soul feels like!” He said angrily, pressing his closed hand to his chest. Tears ran down his cheeks as he turned his downcast look to him. “If dying is a feeling, then I feel exactly that.”

“Then we should do something to make you alive.” Aaros interrupted the depressing moment. He strode into the room and gave Mardon a friendly hand. “Thanks.” The fighter returned his gesture and nodded confidently. “I'm going back to Parem now.” He looked briefly at Roland. “I hope you find a way.” He added before leaving the room.

Aaros joined Roland and put a hand on his shoulder. Roland held his forehead against the window with his eyes closed. Then the bright sound of bells broke the sad silence. Roland looked up in astonishment at the towers. “The sound of Sorlacom's silver bells is unmistakable.” Aaros said. “Come on, he'd like to speak to you.” Roland paused. “Who?” He wanted to know, but Aaros went out the door without answering him.

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“Again, he slipped through my fingers.” The necromancer gasped, holding up his bony hand. Kyndle looked at him with her head bowed and eyes slit. They shimmered like black dagger tips in the dark blue color. A short, violet sparkle stung from the shady eye sockets of the silver mask and the lich approached the bars again. “Next time he won't be able to avoid my grip.” He whispered threateningly. The dragoness snarled into the muzzle and made a sharp movement towards Kargesh, but was restrained by her bonds. A sinister giggle was his answer. “I have something now that he wants back at any cost.” He said, sticking his index finger in her direction. “If only he knew ...” His malicious laugh echoed through the dungeon as he stepped out of the room. With this echo in her ears, Kyndle's look dropped sadly to the bottom of the cage. Thick tears wet her scales and dripped lonely down.

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In a large square behind Sorlacoms Cathedral, Mardon moved calmly towards two dragons. A spineback and a bladewing. At five meters twenty, the shoulder height of the large spineback towered over a stagecoach and grass-green scales adorned its imposing appearance. The color, however, changed to the massive paws in a dark brown. His green eyes shone proudly from his head. In addition, wide straps were bond around his body and large leather bags hung under his powerful wings. A blue marking ribbon was bound around his neck and hung down over his breast plates. On it, a large symbol was seen, that was in the shape of two crossed blades and besides there was name embroiled.

The smaller bladewing meanwhile took a big step towards the man. The sun's rays reflected on his light gray scales and there was a faint golden glow in them. He was wearing a light plate armor and had also a rider saddle on his back. Blue ribbons decorated the protection and, on the fabric, that hung down over his breast plate, a symbol could be seen. It was a dragon wing with a straight blade at the side. Benath there were two horizontal bars attached. Both dragons happily raised their heads and greeted the man with a dull coo.

Mardon stood in front of the bladewing and put his hand on his forehead, which elicited a low cooing from the dragon. With a warm look he looked into his yellow-green eyes. “Hey Spark.” He greeted him, rubbing the dragon's cheek. With his eyes closed, he replied with a satisfied “Chirp”.

The man looked up at the spineback and nodded confidently. “Gamesh.” The big dragon returned his gesture with a dull coo and briefly raised his spines. “Time for the flight home.”

Spark dropped to the floor and let his rider mount. Shortly afterwards he took quick steps towards the battlements and jumped elegantly over the edge. Diving down into the city, he spread his wings and floated gracefully over the roofs of Sorlacom, followed by the large spineback.

No sooner had their shadows disappeared on the horizon, than a deafening hissing noise echoed across the square and a gray-brown dragon, who had previously slept peacefully in the shadow of the wall, was startled. His topaz yellow eyes sparkled menacingly when he heard the echo. In the incoming light, a dull shine fell over his scales and a long, pale streak appeared on his right flank. A thin scar that had already healed. Around his neck hung a soft ribbon with a symbol on it, which looked like a house with five towers. At the side of the coat of arms a name was embroidered: Redorahn. The painful hissing in his ears again, he straightened up and walked fast across the square to the barracks of the dragons.


“I thought, we were here because you ass promised me something!” A bearded face grunted across the room. He leaned against an open gate, which led to a large sleeping place. “And not to watch you mend a dragon!” The dwarf added impatiently, waving his fist in the direction of the other dwarf. This stood with two other people next to a lying dragon.

Dark gray, almost black scales ran across his appearance with a matt blue color on the chest and stomach. Two white horns crowned his head and with his somewhat hasty breathing movements his spikeless back crest rose up steeply and lay down slightly shakily. A muffled cooing came from his throat, interrupted by convulsive breaths. Several wounds appeared on his body: two broken arrows protruded from the shoulder in the left front leg and another was on his flank. His right wing arm was unnaturally angled and obviously broken. Sturdy chains lay over his body and a wide leather strap was pulled over his muzzle.

“Behavior, not helpful. Counterproductive.” The other dwarf answered stressed out. “Concentration needed.” He added monotonously and adjusted his glasses.

“Mr. Barnabas, he is waking up.” An assistant announced nervously. “No. Not now. Too early. Wound not cared. Fracture not aligned.” Complained Barnabas, slightly annoyed. The dragon opened his eyelids reflexively. The red glow of his slit eyes flicked back and forth between the people in front of him. “Stay back!” Barnabas called out. Suddenly his helpers put some distance between themselves and the dark-scaled dragon. His vigorous attempt to stand up was suddenly thwarted by the heavy iron chains that lay over him, and the thick leather strap around his muzzle also prevented him from snapping at the helpers. The dragon felt the painful impulse from his broken, right wing arm and let his head sink back to the ground, snorting heavily. He lay there breathing heavily and looked at the dwarf in front of him with his eyes half closed.

Barnabas carefully approached his patient again. He put a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes thoughtfully. A dull coo then escaped the dragon. “Temperature rising. Toxin still effective.” He opened his eyes again and turned to one of his helpers. “Second bag. Third glass. Left.” He said calmly with his arm outstretched. His helper immediately went to get the bag. “After that. Pliers for arrows.”

“What a whine!” The dwarf said loudly, who was leaning comfortably against the door. He glowered at the slightly twitching dragon. “I've broken something several times.” He continued, his eyes falling on the sign next to the entrance. Rathur was written on it. “My ass, I even had an arrow in my knee! And did I behave so bitchy? No!” He said aloud and raised his hands. At that moment he was caught by a strong breath from behind. So strong that his beard flew up into his face for a quick moment. The dwarf turned his eyebrows upset in the face. A deep growl accompanied the threatening look of these shimmering, topaz yellow dragon eyes, which stared at the little person. Kumash was standing in front of a gray-brown scaled dragon head, the size of which would have allowed him to be swallowed in one go.

Unimpressed by the intimidation of the big dragon, he stared back stubbornly. “What?!” He asked aloud, causing the dragon to snort weakly. He pulled his lip up briefly, revealing one of his pointed fangs. Then the dragon raised his head again and looked down on the dwarf. Kumash continued to stare into his topaz-colored eyes and raised his arms questioningly. “Do I have something on my face or what?” He added. Again the dragon pulled his upper lip up slightly, which was now accompanied by a louder growl.

“You really have talent to make new friends, Kumash.” Slightly annoyed, he turned to the voice. With a tired smile, Aaros passed him and the big dragon. A young man walked alongside him, looking completely absent. “Hmpf.” The dwarf said grumpily. “These dragons have been through enough, so they don't have to endure your great personality, too.” Aaros remarked as he passed. Kumash watched him go and rubbed over his forehead with his middle finger outstretched. “And that from a dragon hunter.” He muttered under his breath. “I saw that.” Aaros replied without turning around. “Do not provoke Redorahn too strongly. If his mood is bad, even the Sorati will keep their distance.” The magician's voice still echoed through the high hall.

Kumash glanced back at the dragon's glowing yellow eyes. “Is that so?” He said mockingly, raising his eyebrows exaggeratedly. Redorahn replied another soft growl. His paw jerked forward briefly and his sharp claws scratched the floor slightly. But a loud whimper suddenly pulled his attention away.

He looked worriedly at the berth where Rathur was being treated. The black and blue dragon braced himself again against the heavy chains. He snorted intensely through his nose. Barnaba's helpers pulled the shackles tight, keeping him clumsy on the ground. The gray-brown dragon quickly stood behind Barnabas and stood upright. The dwarf held on to a leather strap that was placed around Rathur's mouth. Rathur's head twitched heavily, whimpered against his treatment.

A strong breath flew over Barnaba's neck, followed by a loud growl. Redorahn straightened up threateningly, giving his gesture an additional bonus with both wings raised. Barnabas held the strap taut with one hand and opened the other in the direction to Redorahn. “Not necessary.” He said calmly. “Cramps are result of toxin. Medication not yet effective.”

Slightly surprised and confused at the same time, Redorahn looked down at the dwarf, who didn't flinch, didn't even turn. With sparkling eyes, he looked at the hand, which clearly signaled him to go back a little. Reluctantly, he went a little further and gave Barnabas more space, but skeptically watched his next move.

Rathur slumped again exhausted. He snorted heavily, let the convulsive seizure subside and tired he slowly opened his eyes. Barnabas checked the red iris. He carefully lifted Rathur's eyelid. “Pupil dilates. Reflex visible again.” He stated calmly and waved down with one hand from above. His helpers then released the chain's safety pins and released the black and blue dragon. Rathur felt the leather strap loosen around his jaw and gave a relieved coo.

The dragon smacked several times with an empty mouth. A bitter taste was uncomfortable on his tongue and then he closed his eyes with a low cooing. He breathed in and out slowly. Barnabas watched for a while how his body rose slightly as he inhaled and then lowered again. After a while, he nodded in confirmation to his helpers. These stood without a word next to the dragon and began to stretch out Rathur's broken wing arm. Rathur narrowed his eyes slightly and shrugged his head a bit. A faint whimper was also heard. Redorahn, who watched everything tense, kept twitching nervously and snorting vigorously.

Barnabas strode to where the bone was broken and grabbed the wing arm with both hands. Precisely he felt the scaly skin. “Good. No open break.” He commented calmly. He took a few steps back and raised the tarp next to Redorahn. From there he pulled out a wooden joist. A hinge was attached to one end. He opened it like an oversized clip and pushed it under Rathur's wing arm, right under the broken place. With the loose end folded over the arm, he began to apply vigorous pressure. A loud crack echoed across the room as he aligned the position of the break. Redorahn shrugged his head briefly at the unpleasant sound and gave a dull coo. Rathur did not react to this anymore. The medication was now fully effective and made him dream gently.

They quickly tied a cloth around the spot and splinted the arm with four long metal bars. They carefully folded his wing and fixed it on his back with another strap. A few more brief glances from Barnabas and it was done. He picked up the bloody arrowheads from the floor and tossed them into one of the pockets before they were carried out of the room by his helpers.

Barnabas pulled the glasses from his face and took a white cloth from the pocket of his apron. Then he started cleaning his thick glasses. After placing it back on his nose, he exhaled in relief and strode towards Redorahn, hands gently behind his back. The dragon looked a little surprised at the little person in front of him. “Duration of anesthesia: Two hours.” He said calmly. “Some company when wake up. Not wrong.” He added and his beard lifted slightly with his entertaining smile. The gray-brown dragon watched the dwarf attentively as he left the room without further words. Kumash took one last grumpy look at him before following the dragon expert.

Slowly the heavy door of the sleeping place closed. Shortly afterwards, Redorahn's gaze turned to Rathur and he skeptically sniffed his wounds and the splinted wing arm. He lay down gently next to him, covering him protectively with one of his dark wings. The black-blue dragon twitched slightly when he felt its warmth and exhaled in a relaxing way. Redorahn lowered his head next to Rathurs, snuggled a little closer to his body and closed his eyes with a coo. Watched silently over his sleep.

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Quick steps echoed across the room. The soft echo rang in the ears of a meditating man who immediately came back from his trance. Slowly opening his eyes, he looked at five symbols rotating around their own axis. With a soft crackle they hovered in front of large dragon statues, one of which had crumbled. “Arkas, Galvatros, Sorathis, Wyverex and Kyleth.” The man whispered softly as he looked at the signs in turn. All symbols shimmered with a dazzling white, except for the one in front of the base of Kyleth. It was still bright blue, like from the beginning. “The first to be chosen. And the last one to be tested.” The priest murmured, eyes half open.

“Master Atlas.” A loud voice called after the footsteps stopped. The man exhaled slowly and rose from his knees. “Yes?” He said calmly. “He is awake again.” The man replied. Atlas nodded silently and strode towards him. With an outstretched hand, he motioned for him to go ahead.

The priests leaned forward slightly into the great hall of the cathedral. “And what about our other guests?” Atlas wanted to know from his subordinate. “They are housed in one of the dragon quarters on the second floor. But his condition is still the same.” He replied. “I can't tell, how much damage this vampire-lich has done.” He looked at his superior, slightly perplexed. “The Sorati don't know what's going on with him either. Physically, there is nothing wrong with him.” Taking a deep breath, Atlas looked up at the roof and the five dragons depicted on it. “Let's hope for the mercy of the Five.” He said, placing his hand on the priest's shoulder. “I'll check on them later. Make sure he does have anything.” He looked at the man confidently. “Likewise for the Archon.” “She hardly speaks to us and doesn't leave him for a moment, but yes, I will.” The man nodded silently before the priest turned away from Atlas. At the same time, the big entrance door opened.

Aaros entered upright and kept the half of the gate open. Shortly afterwards, a young man crossed the threshold, his arms held close to his body as if he were freezing. Slowly they both walked in front of the marble altar under the magnificent window. The colored glass showed a picture from an older age: mounted dragons, which moved fire-breathing in the air. A burning city was depicted below them, surrounded by numerous people.

“It's hard to imagine, that this cathedral was almost destroyed in the Hunter-Wars.” Aaros noted thoughtfully, looking at the high ceiling. “You can't see any more of it.” He added, turning to the window. Roland hesitantly raised his eyes to the magnificent ornament.

“It should remind us of the days when our faith was put to the test.” Came a calm voice through the hall. The priest walked slowly toward them. “Those who hold on to it, will survive these dark times.” He raised an arm and slowly waved it across the room. “Like this building here.”

The priest put his hand back into the sleeve of the other arm and leaned forward in greeting. “Greetings, Fellow of Kyleth.” Roland looked at the priest in confusion. “I am Atlas, the patron here in Sorlacom.” Atlas looked at the young man attentively and shortly afterwards he nodded silently to Aaros. The latter returned his gesture and went back to the entrance.

The priest smiled at Roland confidently and held out his arm invitingly. “Come.” He said calmly and took the first steps behind the altar. Roland glanced skeptically at Aaros. The latter nodded in confirmation and Roland followed the man hesitantly.

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On the large square behind the cathedral, there were two dwarfs behind the battlements. One stood on a box and cast his calm gaze over the wall, the other paced up and down in front of the entrance of the dragons' quarters. “I strictly followed our shit-headed deal!” He cursed loudly and started counting his fingers. “I was in Haven with you, helped you regulate the shit up there and also pulled your ass out of the loop. Now we are here and I finally want the answer to my fucking question!”

Barnabas let out a breath, pushing the glasses on his nose without looking at him. “Do I have to crack your skull first and scratch the name off the bark?” Kumash threatened him with a raised fist. “Not necessary.” He replied and got off the box. “Argument is correct. Person you are looking for: Daventry, Roland. Stay: currently here. Already seen, earlier.” Grumpy Kumash grunted at the answer of the dragon expert. “What? This sickly guy? And for that I tore my ass from top to bottom?” He bleated loudly and angrily pulled his eyebrows down.

“Barnabas was well advised to keep this information as a secret.” Aaros said as he joined the two. “There are some more important things, than your personal vengeance campaign.” He looked seriously into the dwarf's stubborn eyes. “Barnabas told me everything. Your nice adventure in Haven, as well as your career in Kaladros.” Kumash stuck his index finger up into the magician's face. “Listen, you long misery. Arkas has an agreement with ME and he told me that this Roland can lead me to my revenge. And that's exactly what he should do now.”

“With this attitude, nothing will come of it.” Aaros replied resolutely and crossed his arms. Barnabas strode beside the magician and stood upright. “It is a mystery to me why Arkas chose you, but should you continue your train of thought in this way, I will put all the stones, that are at my disposal in your way.” Aaros warned decisively. Barnabas nodded silently and also looked at Kumash seriously.

Kumash Gor stood up casually, crossed his arms and let out a sullen breath. His beard rose slightly as he started to smile. “I think we will get along splendidly.”

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Roland stood in front of five large stone bases and looked intently at the floating signs in front of the dragon statues. “Why isn't it shining like the others?” He asked Atlas, looking at Kyleth's symbol.

“They awake in the light blue light, as soon as the decision is made. Then they will be tested by the guardians.” Atlas explained. “How are they tested?” Roland asked curiously and turned to the priest. “It's up to the guardiandragons.” He replied, waving his arm to the large statues. “And if the fellows successfully pass this path, their aura shines in white and they will called to Sorlacom.” Slowly Atlas walked towards Roland. “But now, you are here before you have been tested.”

Roland lowered his gaze to the ground sadly. He breathed in and out heavily as the deep hole in his soul echoed again.

Atlas stood next to him and humbly lowered his forehead. “Aaros told me about the latest events, and your loss.” A lonely tear stole from Roland's closed eyes and he slowly dropped to his knees. He felt this emptiness in his soul again when he even tried to think of Kyndle.

“You have to rest first. Need time to work through these events and regain your strength.” The priest suggested and put a hand on his shoulder. “We'll find a way.” Together they went back into the big hall.

Aaros, who was waiting at the gate with two dwarfs by his side, immediately came up to them and at that moment Roland started breathing frantically. He cramped a hand on his chest and sank to his knees exhausted. “Ky ... ndle ...” he stuttered dejectedly. Aaros picked Roland up and put his arm over his shoulder. Supporting him, he led him out of the room. The two dwarfs followed silently. Atlas stopped in front of the altar under the window when another priest joined him.

“His imprint is strong, Janosh.” Atlas said quietly. “Much stronger than you thought. Otherwise he would not react so violently to the blockage.” “What makes you so sure that it is a blockage?” Janosh asked firmly. Atlas looked at the entrance where the others had just left the room. “Because otherwise it would have killed him.”

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The voice echoed loudly from the ceiling. “What's that supposed to mean?!” The necromancer sat silently in his stone throne without reacting much to the words of his guest. The figure hovered before him in a gray robe. Six signs appeared on his clothing, and he had his hand, demanding, on the necromancer. “The dragon is here, Kargesh! Start with the ritual.” Slowly the eyes of the silver mask straightened. A quick sparkle appeared in the empty eye sockets. “No.” The lich replied shortly. He raised one hand and waved it in front of him. “According to our agreement, you will receive the last ritual when Roland is under my control. But this is not yet the case, so I don’t have to do anything.”

“And how do you intend to bring him here now? Your lap dog failed, as you probably know.” A dark giggle echoed from behind the mask. “Me? Not at all. He will be the one, who comes to me.” Kargesh held his bony fingertips in front of his face. “There is the right bait for every prey. And mine seems to be irresistible… hahahaha!” His sinister echo called across the room.

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“He's back in his room and sleeping.” Aaros said to Atlas. Both stood in the large square in front of the dragon quarters. “What did they do with him?” He asked in amazement. Atlas looked wearily over the battlements down at the city and exhaled calmly. “If your description is correct, his imprint will be actively blocked by this device.” “Can we somehow undo that?” Aaros asked. “It's actually simple.” The priest said. “The words used to cast the summoning can be canceled with the opposite verse.” Atlas looked down at the city rooftops for a long moment. “Only I don't know the words in the language of the ancients. And almost all of this knowledge has already been lost.”

“Is that the only way?” Asked the magician. “No.” The priest answered seriously. “If the crystal ball on this pyramid, as you said, is destroyed.” He slowly turned his gaze to the magician. “This dark whirlpool will be silenced and the blockage should dissolve. The only question now is, where this pyramid is now.”

“So can't we do anything at the moment?” Aaros asked hopefully. “There are a few options.” Atlas said. “But it will take some time.” “Time that we may not have.” Aaros added. “There is also a faster method.” Interrupted a third person, who surprisingly came across. “But he needs more strength for that.” “We already had this topic, Janosh. And I'm still against it!” Atlas intervened. “Then the Fellow should decide.” The priest replied. Aaros stood between the men. “What should he decide?”
“His imprint is just blocked. So they're still connected.” Janosh explained. Atlas let out a sullen breath and cast his eyes angrily over the battlements. Aaros continued to listen to him. “So if he tries to think of her or make any contact, this energy is absorbed by the device.” “And?” Aaros asked skeptically. “If we put an arcane marker on it, we can locate it with enough time. However, the connection attempt must not be interrupted.” “And that is exactly why I am against it!” It came from Atlas. He strode up to Aaros and looked into his dull eyes. “It will cost him a lot of strength and in his current state it can even kill him.” The priest put a hand on the magician's shoulder. “And as a Priest of the Five, I don't want to be responsible for that.”

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“So Kargesh. I'm still waiting for your big plan.” The floating figure demanded impatiently. The necromancer gasped slightly through his mask as he rose from the stone throne. “I'll send him a humble message.” “How that?” The stranger asked. Kargesh sent a brief twinkle in his eyes to him. “Oh, he'll see.” A weak giggle accompanied his words as the necromancer turned to the large mirror.

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Roland was in the bed again and turned slightly cramped back and forth. A grim-looking dwarf stood in front of the mattress, watching him carefully. “This one should show me the way?” Kumash murmured grumpily through his thick beard. Suddenly the sign on Kumash's neck began to glow. The dwarf leaned slightly dazed and gripped his forehead. “What the ...” Aligned, he noticed that Roland's back of the hand was also shining.

Roland began to breathe frantically and tensed on the mattress. Kumash took a step towards him. He grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down. The moment he touched him, it grew dark before his eyes.


“Ass-faced-fuck ...!” The dwarf said aloud, but his voice echoed in the void. Only the glowing sign on his neck brought some light into the dark.

Suddenly a lightning of light flashed over him. Hissing, it moved far forward and hit a shady horizon. Wherever he arrived, a blood-red moon rose and a large volcano came towards him. In front of it was a black fortress. His eyes flew by themselves through a crack in the wall, across the forecourt and through the second gate to the central keep. The picture moved up the walls, climbed the black bricks to an open lattice window. His eyes wandered through the bars and showed one large cage in which an orange-red dragon was trapped. The picture swiveled to the side and showed a pale slim woman in a black dress. With her silver eyes she looked at a small pyramid with a crystal ball on top. There was a rotating whirlpool that was getting bigger and bigger. In the middle of the swirl he recognized a silver mask with a happy expression on one half and a sad one on the other. The vortex continued to expand and the suction also increased until Kumash finally was pulled off his feet.

A quiet “Shit” still echoed through the emptiness before the picture completely disappeared.


Kumash came to himself frightfully and fell back exhausted. At that moment, Aaros entered the room. He looked in amazement at Kumash, who was breathing heavily on the floor. He looked skeptically at the smoke emanating from his sign. It was the same with Roland. Aaros quickly stood next to the bed and put a hand to his chest. His heart was pounding frantically and he felt freezing cold. “What did you do?!” He snapped at the lying dwarf. “Nothing at all, you sack!” He replied loudly when he got up laboriously. He pointed vigorously to Roland. “He has done something with me ...” “I know where she is!” Roland interrupted unexpectedly.

“What? How that?!” Aaros asked in surprise. “A dream? No, a vision. I'm not sure.” Roland sat up slightly shaky. “Pictures of a black fortress in front of an extinct volcano.” Breathing heavily, he crouched down, put his feet on the floor and looked at the window. “I think I once saw this building in a book. Xeen’s Tower.” With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath. “And there was also a woman.”

“What a woman? What did she look like?” Aaros asked curiously. “Tall, slim with pale skin and silver eyes.” Kumash answered surprisingly. “How do you want to know?” The magician mocked. The dwarf looked at him calmly. “Because I saw it too, you asshole.”

Aaros gripped his chin thoughtfully. “This woman, did she really had silver eyes?” He asked, looking at Roland slightly nervously. “Yes, why?” The last pictures of Ironwing formed again in his mind's eye as this woman cast her spell before Roland went down. “Then it really was her. I've heard of her before. Her name is Minerva and she is said to be a witch of the dark skills.” “Dark skills?” Roland interjected ignorantly. Aaros breathed in calmly. “The magic of resurrection and death summoning are considered as the dark skills.” He said. “But what does she have to do with all of this?”

“Doesn't matter to me.” Roland said, reaching for his shirt as he tried to sit up. “I know where Kyndle is, and that's where I'm going now.” He announced firmly. Aaros took a step towards him. “I don't think that's a ...” “With or without your help!” Roland interrupted seriously. The magician returned his stubborn look and lightly pressed one hand against Roland's chest. Without much resistance he fell back on the bed and exhaled exhaustedly. “I can understand you, but in your current state you are not a danger to anyone.” Roland turned his eyes angrily and lonely tears shimmered on his closed lids. He knew Aaros was right, but his desire to save Kyndle was greater. And it made him all the more painful, that he should hold still now. “We now know where to start.” He sat down next to him and confidently put a hand on his shoulder. “You don't have to do this alone, let yourself be helped.” He looked at Roland confidently. “But you have to regain your strength to do that first.” Wordlessly, Roland crawled under the covers. Aaros got up in silence and gestured to Kumash to leave the room as well. When the latch on the door was heard, the covers rose again.

Standing outside in the corridor, Aaros turned to the little person. “Would you do me a favor?” The man asked and the dwarf's bushy eyebrows rose in surprise.