It was, Futch morosely reflected, much too risky for them to leave him alive.  Nerus and his men could not afford to leave him a prisoner here overnight.  Most of the other members of Nerus' fake Dragon Knights left before dawn to sleepily resume their normal lives, leaving at the most a skeleton crew of guards.  If Futch managed to get free he, might be able to slip past those few sentinels and fly to Toran, to inform the real Dragon Knights.  His former brethren would certainly come in force to raze Nerus and his cult to the ground, especially upon hearing of a dragon being tortured and held in captivity.

The thought of the poor dragon gave the boy pause.  Surely it was even more dangerous to leave an angry dragon alive, and what's more, taunt it in its captivity.  Not that Futch thought Nerus would care if the dragon escaped and went on a mad, murderous rampage in the surrounding countryside, but surely that would prove harmful to the man's seeming ambition to build a faux Dragon Knight "army".  Yet, even when all reason and prudence directed Nerus to kill the dragon, he still persisted in keeping it alive, torturing it with Dragon's Bane, but never wounding it so much that it died.  Futch wondered how long it had been kept captive.

With that in mind, Futch began to wonder if maybe he had been asking himself the wrong question.  Maybe he should not be worried about how long he had yet to live...but instead how long it would be before he wished he were dead.

As Futch felt his spirits sink even deeper into despair, he felt his fingers unconsciously reaching for his side bag.  His fingers untied the knots, then groped inside the bag for a moment before emerging with a smaller black leather pouch.  Futch stared at it for a moment, trying to make out the crude hand-stitched image on the skin under the flickering torch light from the corridor.  His fingers gingerly traced the rough outline of what was supposed to be a dragon in flight.  Millia had bluntly told him it looked more like a headless dancing bear, but Futch still thought it was pretty good.  And so had his best friend.  The Dragon Knight poured out the contents of the pouch onto his palm and clutched them tightly.  He didn't need light to know what he held.

A chipped tooth and a black scale.  All that was left of his best friend.

"Well partner," he whispered softly, "it looks like I've really done it this time.  That's what I get for charging off without thinking...and it looks like I got another person killed in the process.  Ah, Black, when will I ever learn?"

Futch hung his head in the darkness and fought back tears.  Nerus probably would have found some excuse to kill his brother anyway, but still Futch felt guilty that his presence had been a catalyst.

"You know," he continued, his voice sounding strangled in the darkness, "this is really all your fault. If you hadn't up and died on me, I wouldn't be in this mess." Or maybe not, he thought.  Even when
Futch had Black to watch over him, he had still managed to get into a lot of trouble on his own.  He remembered the time he had poured tar onto Millia's blond locks after she had been extra hard on him during training.  Black had whined the whole time he was flying Futch to Millia's cave, but the dragon had been right there to pick him up when he was fleeing a screeching Millia and a confused Thrash.  Futch felt a small smile push against his tear-soaked cheeks.  Millia still turned cross whenever he reminded her of her day as a "hot brunette".

Memories began to flood Futch as he lay there crumpled in the darkness. Not just of Black, but of his other friends...Millia, Lord Joshua, Lord McDohl, and all the others.  What had he been doing, giving up so easily?  Was he not one of the Stars of Destiny that had overthrown a corrupt empire?  Was he not still a Dragon Knight?  He had to get free somehow and get help in putting an end to Nerus and his so called "Dragon Knights".  He owed it to the knights, to his friends, to the
dragons not to allow Nerus and his abomination to remain unpunished.

Futch gripped the fang and the scale once more before returning them to the pouch.  "Looks like I'll have to delay our reunion, old pal…don't worry, I'll slap Nerus around a few more times just for you."

Resolved, the young man stood up and took stock of his surroundings. For a moment, Futch had to fight back against despair once more.  His cell was empty except for the moss on the walls and the barred doorway was riveted into the rock itself.  Futch approached the bars and gave them a yank.  No give at all.  The padlock was nothing special, but Futch had never exceled at the impromptu "practical thievery" lessons Krin and Kasumi had tried to give him...and besides, what was he
supposed to use?  Clumps of moss?  Still, he had to try something…maybe if he ran towards the door and pitched his body at it?

Just as Futch was getting ready to attempt that impossibility, he heard the sounds of approaching footsteps.  He took a peek out the door and saw four brown robed knights approaching, one with a set of manacles. Looks like Nerus is deciding to play it safe after all… he
thought with a nervous swallow.

Futch backed away cautiously as the men approached.  One of them brought out a set of keys and unlocked the door.  It swung open, accompanied by the sound of shrieking hinges as the man with the restraints stepped inside.

"Get over here, dragon spawn! It's time for your final judgement!"

Futch quickly considered his options.  He probably had more experience fighting than any of these men, but they had size on their side, as well as numbers.  Once they got those manacles on him, it would be very difficult to escape...but on the other hand, if he tried now and failed, they would be doubly alert later on.

I've gotten into enough trouble with my impatience.  This time I'm biding my time, he thought.  Deciding, he calmly approached the men with his arms held out.

The "knight" smirked as he secured the irons around Futch's hands.  "I see your little 'talk' with the Lord Nerus has convinced you of the futility of resistance.  Soon, you and all your brethren will be laid waste under our iron heels."

Futch knew he shouldn't react, but this time, his anger took the better of him.  "Get real," he said with a smirk, "what are you during the daytime good 'knight'?  A baker?  A trader?  And you think you can beat a trained army?  How long are you going to spend living the twisted dreams of another?"

Futch's head snapped back as the other man slapped him across the face.  The boy felt warm blood oozing from his lip, but was determined not to cry out.

"Easy, Andreko," he heard another of the men saying, "his words are the words of the Demons.  We must get him to Lord Nerus before we too are corrupted."

Futch raised his head and looked at his captors.  From his lower angle and with the lights of the torches, he found himself able to see their faces clearly for the first time.  What he saw drained his anger utterly.  He saw real faces, faces that would not look out of place in any town or city, faces of regular men.  But they had a look of fear that he had never seen before, especially not directed at him.  These men were not the enemy, they were as much victims as himself and the dragon.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but you…" Futch began, but was unable to finish as he was unceremoniously yanked to his feet and practically dragged forward.  It looked as if they wanted to get him off their hands as quickly as possible.

Sooner than he expected, he found himself once again inside the massive main chamber.  As he was hauled out onto the rocky platform that served as Nerus' "stage", he noticed that, this time, the "Dragon Knights" were almost silent.  They seemed to be muttering some sort of chant while
staring wide eyed at the stage.  Futch followed their gaze to a smiling Nerus, who was standing once more arms outstretched in front of the blue bonfire.  The Dragon Slayer turned towards Futch as he was brought forward, then gestured for the other men to leave.  The boy turned to watch them leave and then, controlling his anger, turned back to Nerus.

"Having fun?" he asked in an acid tone as he jerked his head towards the chanting cultists.

Nerus responded with an evil grin.  "Why yes, I am, thank you, Dragon-Boy.  I've been dreaming of doing this to my brother for years…"

Uncomprehending, Futch's gaze followed as Nerus waved a hand at the bonfire.

In the midst of the blue flames was a human silhouette.

Gagging, Futch dropped to his knees, scarcely hearing Nerus' next words.  "You should have seen his reaction when he found out that his 'useless foster brother, Marash', was, in fact, the Lord he had been kowtowing to for the past six months.  But actually, he looked even more surprised after I snapped his neck.  A pity really, I would have wanted him to be alive before I tossed him into the 'cleansing flame' as an example to my followers…but I suppose one must not be too choosy, eh
boy?"

Futch recovered enough to glance up at Nerus and hiss, "You're insane."

Nerus' grin grew wider as he answered, "And winning, Dragon-Boy.  Don't forget that little detail.  But enough talk," the robed man said, gesturing for Futch's four escorts to come closer.  "It's time for you to meet our other honored 'guest'."

Futch struggled, but the four men easily overpowered him and hefted him on their shoulders. Futch found himself staring at the caverns dark celing as Nerus addressed the crowd once more.

"My brothers!  The time has come!  Our brother Lucius has been cleansed in the Bane-Fire for his crime against our brotherhood and his spirit now roams free and pure once more.  Yet among us we had a servant of the Beasts, a Dragon-Spawn who dared corrupt our noble ranks!  To him is the
greater crime, yet our punishment shall be just.  Tonight he will feel the evil of his masters, tonight he will suffer as many others have suffered.  Tonight, corruption will devour corruption, as evil always
does, and in so doing prove once more, the power of the Knights of the Dragon!"

At that, the crowd erupted in a thunderous roar, drowning out Futch's cries of anger and accusation. How can they eat this all up?  Can't they see how he's using them?

Then, Futch felt himself being carried away.  He strained against the hands holding him to no avail, but he did see that they were bringing him to the dragons make-shift cell.  He heard the sound of the great door being opened quickly and the shuffling of a great weight shifting within the cave.  Then, he was falling through the air, pain exploding as he landed on his face on the rocky floor, the smell of soot in his nostrils.  He picked himself up to see the door being rapidly closed behind him.  His eyes met Nerus' for a moment, and Futch beheld the smoldering hate within those steel black orbs, before the Dragon Slayer turned away with a smile.

"Die painfully, Dragon-Boy."

An ear-splitting roar split the night air.

[The forests outside Araya]

Somewhere deep within the pitch darkness of the pine forest, the muted echo of a dull THUNK was followed shortly by a sharply-uttered curse.

Miklotov swore profusely as he rubbed the painful bump on his forehead, the unseen branch that had unexpectedly beaned him rattling with dislodged pine cones and dried needles.  Not too far behind, he could hear Alexandra's underfoot crunching of dry foliage crinkle to a halt. If it weren't for the nagging fact that current matters were so bloody urgent, he might have had time to allow his eyes to adjust to the inconvenient dark and therefore save himself a bit of unneeded agony...but both he and his companion were forced to fumble blindly in the night-enshrouded woods in search of the so-called lair of the "Dragon Knights".

"You all right, Mik?" Alex's quiet voice echoed in concern, the owner having clearly heard Miklotov's rather unknightly swearing.  Her white tunic glowed like a waning beacon despite the horrendously limited visibility, unlike the other's darker uniform, whose white trimmings were too sparse to even be noticed.

With a low grunt, Miklotov regained his ruffled bearings, ignoring the persistent throbbing of his newly-acquired headache.  "I'm fine," he mumbled in response, blinking rapidly in hopes of getting his eyes accustomed to what little light there was.  "I just didn't see that particular branch, that's all..."

The sound of Alex's forcibly-muffled snickering caused the knight to mentally curse his bad luck.  "If it makes you feel better," she started in a wry fashion, "I nearly tripped on several roots before we
stopped!"  Her tone promptly switched to dire seriousness as she resumed her blind trekking, dried twigs and leaves crunching under her boots. "We better keep moving, branches or whatnot.  I got a feeling we're getting close."

Miklotov nodded firmly in a vaguely-seen response, making sure to, this time, duck around the assaulting branch as he cautiously picked his way forward.  The Matilda region was notorious for the thick evergreen forests that extended beyond its borders, melding into Greenhill's numerous woods and Muse's thinning groves.  Normally, they were quite beautiful to behold, especially in the winter, when their emerald needles would bring a subtle hint of color to the blanket of white that would encase the countryside.  However, as Miklotov continued to scramble and stumble and grope through the tightly-clustered branches and trunks of the wood, he found that the former beauty was deadened considerably by the pure inconvenience it ended up providing.  How much longer would he and Alex have to put up with this...?  If one more branch so much as BRUSHED against his face...

"Mik, hold for a minute!"

Miklotov's unsteady footage halted immediately at Alex's hissing, urgent tone.  Glancing behind, he could vaguely see his companion glancing around and lightly sniffing the air, nose wrinkling as if a polecat had been squashed under a length of fallen tree.  "What is it?" the knight asked quietly, finding himself rather confused at the other's actions.

"Can't you smell that...?" Alex whispered, her nose wrinkling further as she took in a heftier whiff of the cool forest air.  "Smells like something's burning.  I recognize that scent...but I can't quite put my
finger on it..."

Perplexed, Miklotov took in a quick breath of air, trying to sort through the various forest scents that filled his nostrils.  Nothing dramatic caught his attention.  "I can only smell pine," he replied
flatly.

"'Tis very faint, that's probably why you can't smell it," Alex continued, carefully clambering up onto a nearby fallen tree to catch the scent higher up.  "Seems to be a smoky smell, but slightly sweet and
gives a sense of light-headedness if breathed in too deeply.  I only know of a few substances that do that when burned."

"So if we follow this scent, you think we might find something?" Miklotov proposed, happy enough to stay where he was on the ground.

Alex nodded curtly within the darkness.  "Indeed, we should...either that, or we'll be dazed out of our minds.  I have a feeling that stuff's Dragon's Bane."

"Dragon's Bane...?"

"Aye, heard of it when I was attending Greenhill's Academy," Alex said, gingerly edging her way down from the crippled tree.  "It's normally harmless to humans and most animals, but it's especially poisonous to dragons and their closest kin, hence its nickname..."

Miklotov grimaced, face turning stony as he considered the possibilities.  By now, he could finally catch the hint of charred Dragon's Bane wafting amidst the crisp forest air, cloying it with a smell that almost resembled the sweetness of rotting meat.  Joram had mentioned something about the Dragon Knights being holed up within the forested edge of the mountains...and with the advent of the burned
herb's smells drifting about, it was very likely that he and Alexandra could basically be at the front steps of the enemy lair...

And before any more could be said between the two humans stuck within the thicket, an earth-shattering, inhuman roar tore through the night skies.

Silence dropped in like a leaden weight.

Alex's voice suddenly broke the tension, faint and obviously fazed. "Dear creeping Gods...don't tell me they actually... ..."

"We're running out of time," was all Miklotov said.

The grimacing knight wished his words had less of a bitter twist to them.

[Within the "Dragon's Den"]

A pair of bloodshot eyes stared out from the darkness.

The dragon's initial roar had silenced the cavern and the only sound that reached Futch's ears was the labored huff of the dragon's breathing.  With a start, he realized he was holding his own breath and let it out slowly, scared that even such a minute stirring in the air would rouse the dragon into action.

The boy tried to bring his shaking body under control.  He was a Dragon Knight...he'd lived with dragons all his life.

And because of that I know how hard it is to calm an angry dragon...and how suicidal it is to be within five miles of one if you can't.

Somehow, Futch's brilliant plan had seemed much more feasible before he found himself face to face with the dragon.  He'd worked it out while they had been bringing him to Nerus.  Ever since he
was young, Futch had been taught how to deal with dragons and how to communicate even to non-bonded ones on a rudimentary level.  He had figured that if he could convince the dragon that they were on the same side, maybe they could both get out of here alive.  Foolproof plan right?  Sure.

Now if only he could make his body move.

With a supreme effort of will, Futch took one cautious step towards the dragon.  No reaction.  He took a few more steps, then paused again, his body taunt as a spring.  Still, the dragon did not move.  Reassured, Futch began moving steadily closer, his hands making calming gestures while he made comforting sounds, just as he had been taught so long ago.

Is it just me, or does his breathing sound easier? Futch thought to himself.  He had almost reached the dragon by now, and if he managed to touch it, he would have practically succeeded in calming it down. Just a little closer...gods, just let the calm last a little longer...

"DID YOU REALLY THINK IT WOULD BE THAT EASY, BOY?"

The shout caused Futch to jump involuntarily and brought a rumbling growl from the dragon before him.  Futch turned to see a grinning Nerus standing at the bars, with a group of his followers holding Bane torches in each hand.  Nerus grin widened as Futch realized what they were about to do.  The Dragon Slayer raised his hand, then brought it down swiftly.

The Bane torches made a blue arch as they flew towards the dragon.

As the torches impacted on the dragon's hide, the cavern became filled with the stench of Dragon's Bane and burned scale.  With an ear-splitting roar, the dragon rose up on its hindlegs, its entire body
writhing in pain.  The ground shook as the dragon landed on all fours one more, its scarred head coming around to focus its red eyed glare...right at Futch.

Oh shit.

Futch threw himself to the left just as the dragon's jaws snapped closed over the spot where he had been.  His back impacted hard against the rock wall and he barely caught himself with his hands before falling to the floor.  He lay there stunned for a moment, before another roar snapped him out of his stupor.  He looked up just in time to see the open maw of the dragon coming fast towards him.  Futch rolled away just in time, but almost got squashed by the dragon's claws in the process.

Picking himself up from the floor, his heart pounding, Futch looked around to discover he had made a fatal mistake.  In rolling away from the dragon, he had backed himself into a corner.  The dragon seemed to realize this as well, moving slowly towards him now, making use of its bulk to block any escape attempt.  Futch could see how tired it already was...if it had been at full health, he'd already be dead.  As it was, his only chance lay in tiring it out.  And that meant he had to keep it moving.

Futch tried feinting to the left before trying to leap past the dragon, but this time it was too quick.  Even as Futch avoided the dragon's jaws, its tail slammed into Futch at full force, sending the boy
careening into the wall.  Before Futch could move, the dragon hit him again, once, and then twice.  He crumpled to the ground, pain from his chest and back rendering him nearly unconscious.

The dragon roared once more, this time seemingly in triumph.  Futch struggled to sit up, coughing up blood as he did so.  The dragon was moving in, intent on having vengeance for its tortured captivity.  Futch tried to move, but he no longer had the strength.  He felt as if his ribs were broken, and the pain was causing his eyesight to blur.

I guess...this is it, he thought to himself as he felt the blood trickling down his face.  Strangely, he felt a sense of peace descend upon him as he closed his eyes.  He had tried, the gods knew he had
tried.  If this was to be his fate, then so be it.  He heard the dragon roar once again and the sounds of voices outside that seemed to be celebrating.

He could feel the dragon's breath now, hot on his face.  Without thinking, Futch once again reached into his side pouch.  With fingers trembling from pain, he once more poured out the tooth and scale onto his palm, clutching them both with a white-knuckled grip.  Looks like we'll be seeing each other sooner that I planned, old friend, Futch thought to himself as he prepared for the end.

A second passed.  Then, ten seconds.

Strange, I thought being killed would hurt more than that...

After a minute had gone by, a puzzled Futch cracked open an eye...and found himself staring straight into the dragon's red eyes.  He yelped, then cringed away involuntarily. The dragon just stared at him, sniffing at him occasionally.  What the hell was it waiting for?  Futch thought that perhaps it was tormenting him by drawing out the moment, much like a predator playing with its prey.

The dragon's sniffing grew more intense and it began to poke its nose at Futch in an almost curious manner... it almost seemed to be looking for something.

Of course!

Futch opened his hand and lifted Black's scale and fang towards the dragon.  In an instant, the articles had the dragon's undivided attention and remarkably enough, it had begun to make contented dragon noises.  It seemed that the smell of another dragon had been enough to calm it down.  Futch gingerly reached out to scratch the dragon's scales.  It looked at him, then seemed to nod its head towards the tooth and scale.

He knows I'm a Dragon Knight, it seems, Futch thought.  This just confirmed his suspicion that this was no wild dragon.  Futch did not think he wanted to know how it had been captured, or what had happened to its rider.

He rose to his feet carefully, holding on to the dragon's head for support.  Now that the dragon knew he was a friend, it actually seemed apologetic, making sad noises.  Futch patted its head in forgiveness, then tried to get a good look at it.

It was in sad shape.  Its scales were full of charred patches from where the Dragon's Bane had struck and even the unblackened portions were grey with hunger and fatigue. The wings were a mess, seemingly torn to shred by claws of some sort, and one horn was chipped off.  Futch's heart went out to it.  Still, it had more than enough strength to get the both of them out of there alive.

"A crippled dragon and a bruised boy...we're quite a pair y'know," he whispered.  The dragon keened softly in sad agreement.  "Don't worry, boy, we'll show then that even as we are, we're more than a match for the likes of them!"

Futch turned to look at what was happening outside.  It seemed like Nerus and his followers were celebrating.  He crept closer and saw that this was the case, and that no one was watching the cave.  He gave the bars a tentative shake.  They were sturdy, but he wasn't sure if they could withstand the strength of the dragon.  The only reason that the dragon had not been able to get out by itself was probably because the guards had thrown Dragon's Bane at it whenever it got too near.  Still, no use taking chances.   Futch had the dragon whack the walls a few times with its tail, hopefully weakening the rock around the iron bars.

Then, when Futch thought it was ready, he heaved himself up onto the dragon's back.  Suddenly, it was all Futch could do to keep from shouting for joy.  He knew that they were a long way from freedom, but even then...it had been too long since he had ridden a dragon. Grinning, Futch returned Black's tooth and scale into his pouch.  If he was going to die, it would be as he wanted to...as a Dragon Knight.

"Alright friend, let's show them what we've got!"

With a proud roar, the dragon threw itself at the bars.  The iron held for a second, then gave way as the rock around it crumbled under the stress.  Futch found himself laughing evilly at the startled faces of the crowd before him.  They fancied themselves Dragon Slayers, did they?  Let's see how they handled the real thing!

First things first, though.  Futch gave a shout and the dragon leapt towards the Dragon's Bane bonfire.  With a sweep from its tail, it swept the torches and wood away, leaving the flame to die without fuel.  Then, it turned towards the fleeing men and gave another roar.

"No!" Futch shouted, pounding on the dragon's hide.  "We have to get away!"  He looked around and spotted a tunnel that was large enough for the dragon.  He pointed and shouted, "There!  Go there!"

Reluctantly, the dragon turned away and headed towards the exit.  A band of Nerus' armed guards gave a shout and moved to block the dragon's exodus.  With a roar, the dragon flung half of them away with its foreclaw, then sent the other half scurrying with a snap of its jaws.

"Beast! Try me!"

At the sound of the voice, the dragon turned.  Standing on a pile of rock a few meters away was Nerus, an arrogant grin on his face and a sword in one hand.

Futch pulled on the dragon's ridges.  "No!  We can take him later, we have to get away!"

Nerus laughed.  "Its no use, Futch.  It knows it wants vengeance, do you think it will leave before it can kill me?"

Sure enough, the dragon roared in anger and plunged towards Nerus, despite Futch's pleadings.  Nerus dodged to the right as the dragon leapt towards him, his sword making a bloody line across the dragon's side.  The dragon growled in pain, then swiped at Nerus with its claws. Once again, the Slayer dodged, but his foot caught on a stone and he stumbled, losing his sword in the process.

The dragon roared in triumph and moved in for the kill, its jaws gaping wide as it went for the fallen Nerus.  Just as the dragon's jaws reached him, Nerus reached into his robe and threw something into its maw.

"Eat raw Dragon's Bane, monster!"

With a scream that was almost human, the dragon reared up violently, its body going into spasms.  Unable to hold on, Futch was thrown off to land hard on the cave floor.  Picking himself up, Futch saw that the dragon lay a few meters away, clawing at the air and writhing in pain.  For a moment, it was not just a dragon Futch saw, but Black, dying from Wendy's blast.

No...not again! he thought.  But before he could move, a punch sent him reeling to the floor again.  He looked up to see a group of Nerus guards standing above him, weapons in hand.  Nerus himself stood a distance away, an insane light in his eyes.

"That's two dragons you've lost in your lifetime, Futch.  It's really a pity I have to kill you...you're really more an ally than an enemy."

With a scream of incoherent rage, Futch launched himself at Nerus, only to have the breath knocked out of him by the guards.  Nerus grinned again, his teeth shining like a predator's.

"Kill him."

Before the men could move, though, a yellow streak fell upon them from above.  Before any of the guards could even cry out, two of them had already fallen to Humphrey's sword.  By the time they had their weapons out, half of them were already on the floor.  It took Humphrey another five minutes before they were all disposed of.  The older man stepped back then, sword held at the ready.  In the commotion, the leader seemed to have vanished, but Humphrey guessed it would only be moments before more reinforcements arrived.

"...Are you okay, Futch?  We have to..."  Then, he broke off as he saw the boy.

Futch was kneeling by the mortally wounded dragon, its head cradled in his arms.  Tears ran down the boy's cheeks as he watched the blood gurgle forth with the dragon's every labored breath.  Even dulled by pain, the dragon's eyes met and held his own.

Humphrey approached quietly, the danger of their situation momentarily forgotten.  "He is in a great deal of pain you know...there is no way he will survive."

"I know."

"...Do you want me to do it?"

Futch shook his head mutely.  Wordlessly, he took Humphrey's sword. After one last caress of the dragon's face, he raised the sword highabove his head, then brought it down with all his might across the dragon's throat.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.  Then, Futch reached into his pouch and brought out Black's tooth.  Tenderly, he placed it by the dead dragon.

"He was a good dragon...such a good dragon."

Humphrey stayed silent a moment more, then placed a hand on Futch's shoulder.

"We must go.  There are more guards coming.  Here, take this, you may need it."

Futch stayed immobile for another second before accepting his spear from Humphrey.  Then, he stared at the older man with an intensity even the battle-scarred veteran found frightening.

"Wherever he is, wherever he hides...I will kill him for this."

With that the two turned and left the caves.

[The forests just outside the "Dragon's Den"]

A strange, unsettling heaviness crept into the night air when the horrendous sounds finally halted.  Something about it almost struck a pang of sorrow within Miklotov's armored chest, causing his urgent stepsto simmer to an idle trudge.  That last roar, one that very well could have split the moon in half, was different from the first that he and Alexandra had heard.  The sound was haunting, pained...almost human, rather than distinctly monstrous...

Alexandra said nothing as she quickly stumbled past the slack-jawed knight, determination set firmly upon her face as she half-tumbledtowards the source of the mournful sound.  Snapping himself out of his stupor, Miklotov quickly followed, ignoring the painful lashings that the needle-sharp pine branches whipped at his face as he pushed forward with twice the effort.  Not too far off, he could've sworn he caught the faint glimmer of a light shimmering between the packed tree trunks, an
open invitation for investigating.  The edge of the tightly clustered forest where it met the sharply rising mountainsides that peppered the entire region was just a short distance ahead.

But what could've made a sound like THAT? Miklotov couldn't help but wonder as he swatted branches out of his way, ducking and weaving as best he could with the limited visibility.  No mere animal or any human could have made such a scream...

Maybe a dragon...?  ...But how could such a thing even be possible?  All the dragons within the Matilda Knightdom had been slaughtered into extinction many, MANY years ago, even before his own father's time!  And what more, dragons were still considered vicious monsters, masterless
creatures that terrorized the countryside with baptisms of fire and destruction.  Any that had the misfortune of appearing within the Knightdom were quickly slaughtered before they could even see the light of day.

A sharp, unfeminine curse was exclaimed by Alexandra when she suddenly tumbled out the cessation of trees.  "What the Hell's this...?" she fumbled, stopping dead in her tracks.  "A cave?"

Miklotov grunted inaudibly as he pulled himself clear of the entanglement of pines, finding himself standing within a minute clearing that stood like a porch to the gaping cavern entrance that suddenly
loomed over him and his companion.  A sparse number of dull, crackling torches were set along the interior passageway, producing the dim glow they had seen earlier.  The passage further into the stony maw's gullet was pitched into darkness, concealing its length and features, leaving only a mystery of what dangers lay within.  It was ominous, to say the very least...

"Without a doubt," the knight said gravely, "this must be the lair of those Dragon Knights, as Joram had told us..."

Alexandra nodded in silent resolution, a dull clack emitting from her scabbard as she swiftly drew Lohengrin from its resting place.  "There'sno use in taking chances," she stated.  "Not after the encounter with those knights."

Miklotov nodded in mute agreement as he drew his own blade, Dunceney, from the sheath at his side.  He stepped beyond the threshold of the cave, ever cautious with his blade poised before him, in case any other zealots decided to test their faith upon him.  Alex followed closely behind, taking up the rear in case they might've been followed.

The dull echoes of thumps deep within the yawning cave passage mingled with that of the tricklings of water.  Miklotov strained his ears, trying to separate the myriad of sounds that accosted his senses.  The whole place reeked of earthy moisture; as he placed a hand against the walls to steady himself, he could feel the dampness soak through his gloves, a sharp chill racing up the length of his arm.  The cave seemed a likely place for a group of villains to hole themselves up, undoubtedly...

The cascade of thumps continued rising in intensity, up to the point that Miklotov actually halted, Alex nearly bumping into him from the unexpected stop.  "What is it--" she started, but quickly silenced herself when the knight brought a finger to his lips, gesturing her to not utter another word.  Grabbing the last of the torches that barely managed to produce enough light to create shadows within the hall, Miklotov jammed it against the moist cave wall, effectively dousing it with only a mild hiss from the sparking embers.  Whatever it was that was possibly heading their way would have less chance of seeing them without as much light, and he decided to gamble upon that fact as he
pressed himself flat against the damp wall, motioning Alex to do the same.

The thumps grew louder, closer, sounding not unlike the footfalls of someone running.  Panicked gaspings, the ruffling sounds of billowing fabric--robes perhaps--melded in some sort of terrified symphony of what almost sounded like a man fleeing for his life.  Miklotov tensed his grip around Dunceney, ignoring the persistent chill that crept down his back as a result of pressing himself against the cavern earth.  Just a little further...as soon as whoever it was ran past, a simple swing of
the arm would knock them flat on their back...

And soon enough, the panicked, brown-robed form of what almost seemed like a man condemned exploded into the dim light.

Lashing out with his free hand, Miklotov sent a grazing punch that nonetheless succeeded in knocking his surprised victim off balance. With a strangled, terrified yelp, the diminutive form of a man draped in a heavy brown cloak spilled messily to the ground, flipping around to his back just in time to find that he had been pinned down by Alexandra.  For a moment, he struggled, chittering words that made absolutely no sense, but immediately silenced himself when Dunceney was
immediately poised at his vulnerable throat.  "S-Sir MIKLOTOV!?" he squealed, obviously recognizing the blue knight before him.  His eyes widened in fright. "S-Spare me, g-good s-sir!  I-I be just a m-meek man f-fleeing for his l-life...!"

Miklotov paused, raising an eyebrow and giving the captive a faintly suspicious glare.  "Your name," he demanded, the tip his broadsword still hovering over the other's throat.  "Tell me who you are."

"M-Marash, good knight," the pinned man stammered, his voice seemingly permanently encased by the habit of stuttering.  "I-I was a m-member of the D-Dragon Knights, u-until the d-disaster..."

"Dragon Knights!?" Alexandra seethed, looking as if she would impale Marash with her own sword.  "So you're the ones who turned the white knights against us!"

For a quick moment, an unusual sentiment of shock flashed within Marash's eyes, but it flickered away so quickly that no doubts could be formed.  "I-I don't know a-anything about that!" he yelped again when Alex's anger added painful pressure to his chest.  "L-Lord N-Nerus was the o-one who s-sent them!  B-But he vanished...shortly a-after they d-discovered a t-traitor in their midst.  F-Fighting broke out...I-I ran for my l-life!  E-even now, some are c-coming to kill me, s-saying I'm a traitor!"

"Is that what that unearthly sound was?" Miklotov questioned, giving a little more leeway between Dunceney and Marash's throat.  "There's no way any normal human or animal could've made a sound like that..."

"T-The true t-traitor somehow m-managed to entice the d-dragon we held p-prisoner," Marash croaked again, obviously getting no sympathy from Alexandra's tight grip.  "W-We had to use D-Dragon's Bane to subdue the c-creature before it g-got free!"  His tone turned into a plea.  "Sir
M-Miklotov, I beg of you!  P-Please, save me from the D-Dragon Knights! They'll k-kill me if I'm c-caught!"

Miklotov allowed his face to sink into uncertainty.  While Marash had shed light upon what had occurred, there still came the problem with the one called "Lord Nerus".  He remembered that Joram had stated that name, making it clear that Nerus was the ringleader of the whole escapade and the one responsible for the failed assassination attempt on himself and Alexandra.  If Marash was a member of the cult, as he said, maybe it would be wiser to leave him behind as his attempted escape could have very well been a ploy to distract their prospective prey.  But...the look of terror within the meeker man's eyes was so genuine...

Another wave of footfalls echoed distantly down the cavern, causing Alex to look back at Miklotov with alarm.  If he was to make a decision, he had to make it quickly...

"Let him to his feet, Alex," Miklotov stated urgently.  "If what Marash says is true, we haven't a moment to waste.  Let's retreat back to Araya, quickly."

Nodding, although a bit hesitant, Alex released the pinned Marash, helping the trembling man to his feet.  Even for a man, he seemed a bit of a runt and actually stood an inch shorter than the Matildain woman. "Can you still run?" she said flatly.

Marash nodded timidly, seemingly nervous of Alexandra's unusually strong demeanor.  "A-Aye, I c-can," he managed to stammer before Miklotov grabbed him by the arm and dragged him forward as he began to bolt for the cave's maw, Alex following close behind.

Not another word was traded between the three as they leapt into the night-enshrouded forest once more.  Miklotov ignored the haze of persistent pain that stung against his face as the relentless flood of pine needles whipped mercilessly against him and his companions.  For a fleeting moment, as he stole a quick glance over his shoulder, he could've sworn he detected an almost fang-filled smirk upon the concealed face of Marash...but he dismissed it as a trick of the diminished moonlight.  He'd worry about the consequences of his actions when they arrived at Araya...

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"Futch" and "Suikoden 2" are (C) Konami. This chapter was posted on December 7, 1999 Futch's author is no longer active Miklotov's author is no longer active