Foreword

Long ago, before most fairy tales and legends, creatures bowed before the power and wisdom of dragons. From the starry heavens, the twin god dragons Bahamut and Tiamat gave birth to their children. Those born of Bahamut grew with love in their hearts and taught the sentient races of harmony and nature. However, those spawned from Tiamat’s darkness knew only greed and destruction. The dragons soon battled for power and control, dividing the lands between the pure metallic dragons, and the malevolent chromatic dragons. Those who would live under the rule of the chromatic dragons would know only fear, hate, and hunger. Denizens protected by the metallic dragons learned compassion, balance, and wisdom. The sentient beings, whom worshiped Bahamut and his children, were the graceful Elves, shepherds of nature, the stalwart Dwarves, crafters of the mountains, the cheerful Halflings, optimistic opportunists, the ingenious Gnomes, tinkering inventors, and lastly the Humans, quick to adapt to the ever changing world.

The war between dragons gradually subsided as the chromatic dragons withdrew to their dark lairs. The lands knew peace at last and the children of Bahamut hid away, leaving the prime races with their teachings. The stories of the dragons had grown to mythic proportions; tales of the evil dragons seeking revenge, damsels in distress, brave adventurers seeking wisdom from ancient dragons. Though the world was thankful of its guardians, the prime races had sought their own legacies…

So’dale

Xanthor shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the boxes and barrels jostled around him. Try as he might, the awkward circumstances he had found himself in made it difficult to study the strange blue tome he had recently come in to possession. He pressed his shoulders against his surroundings to gain more purchase in the bed of the wagon. He looked about his surroundings. At the rear of the wagon the red wolf lay rested beside Drake, his half-elven friend staring sternly into the distance. Beneath his hood, Drake’s keen brown eyes focused on their destination. He hesitated to ask what his friend’s thoughts were on the matter, but his own curiosity bested him.

“So...”

“Forgive me my friend, I have been poor company. Please, speak your mind.”

Drake’s intense expression melted away at the sight of his friend. A familiar smile returned to his face, his eyes studying the young boy. Xanthor glanced about the open sky, trying to find his words then returned his gaze upon him.

“So Drake. What do you think has happened?”

“To the gnomes in So’dale?” His heavy words seemed to deaden the sounds of nature as the wagon grew silent. The halflings sat still driving the wagon. Drake gave a quiet sigh, his hand to his chin in thought. He stared at the backs of the halfling siblings then back unto Xanthor.

“From what I have seen with my own eyes, the smoke rising from the gnomish homelands is too grand for anything natural. The grey and white smoke emanating would suggest a dry fire so most likely the forest itself had been set on fire. It would sound improbable, however I have recently seen red dragons in the skies above.”

The twin halflings glanced at one another in disbelief.

“Dragons? Ha! Dragons have not been seen in deez lands for nearly centuries.” Stevan felt a sharp jab in his ribs.

“Forgive my brazer’s rudeness, but he iz right. Dragons have not been seen for many years.” Sorina glared at her brother, threatening to jab him again as he flinched.

“I had believed this to be true, yet after today I am unsure.”

The wagon returned to silence with the exception of the wheels turning and the sound of hoof steps. Again, Xanthor found his curiosity peaked.

“Tell me. Vat do you two hope to find vunce ve arrive?” Stevan’s voice wavered, watching cautiously for his sister’s reaction.

As the half-elf climbed to his feet, the wolf looked up watching him. He patted Xanthor’s shoulder leaning over him and in between the seated twins, returning his gaze to the distance.

“Answers...”

An hour had passed under the growing cloudy skies as the company rode along the dirt road. Stevan abruptly turned the wagon onto the grassy plains towards the crest of an on looking hill then halted, tugging the reigns. Frustrated, Xanthor pushed against the barrels and boxes once again for room. The twins gasped. Drake, Xanthor, and the wolf leaped to their feet. Against their instinct, the group gazed at the site before them. What once were lush verdant fields were now dried and barren. The forested hills of which the gnomes had made their burrowed homes were now sickly charred husks of their former selves. The grounds were blackened with spots of ember. As their nightmare immersed into reality, there littered throughout the hills laid the bodies of hundreds upon hundreds of gnomes.

Leaving the wagon near the top of the hill, they drew closer. Their heart beat ever slowly as a sense of dread filled them. The air was dry and warm. The half-elf held the hilt of his sword nestled in its sheath. Pulling back his hood, he listened intently for a break in the eerie silence.

“Xanthor, if you are to follow you are to do exactly as I say. I want you to shut your eyes and follow me closely. Do not do otherwise until I say so.” Xanthor nodded obediently, squinting his eyes tight as he held onto his friend’s shoulder, the book clutched to his chest.

“Ve vill search the homes. Perhaps der are survivors hidden inside da?” Stevan’s words felt hallow.

The halflings and the red wolf wandered away to the open scorched burrows of the gnomes within the hills nearby. With his keen elven eyes, Drake moved to what seemed to be the center of the grim scene. Careful to avoid the fallen bodies of the gnomes, Drake led the way for his friend. Reaching the center of the field, the half-elf surveyed the grounds. Catching his eye, he knelt to the ground beside a corpse. His heart stopped. Carefully, Drake began to inspect the body.

“What is it? What did you find?” Xanthor whispered, cautious not to yell.

The young man still blinded attempted to step beside Drake, stumbling over a large stone. The book flew from his grasp as he fell face first into the ground.

“Xanthor!”

Drake rushed to his aide, lifting him while batting the dirt from his clothes.

“Xanthor, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride,” Xanthor grimaced, groaning as he rose to his feet. He wiped and blew the dust from his glasses, inspecting them. The young man fixed the glasses onto his face, then glanced down in horror. He had realized what his friend had been inspecting.

“Look away!” but it was too late. There upon the ground before them laid the body of a gnome child. The boy’s final expression was frozen with fear. His open mouth was dry with dust. Drake grasped Xanthor’s shoulders and turned him away.

“Forgive me Xanthor. I did not bring you to see this. I had hoped for the better.”

Xanthor fell silent staring off into their surroundings. It was then that he truly realized surrounding them were the bodies of hundreds of gnomes. He wished it were only a terrible dream and yet he knew otherwise. So’dale, the charred homes, the face of that boy, this day would haunt him forever. His eyes drifted upon the land around him, his vision blurred into nothing, as did his thoughts.

Drake returned to his investigation, kneeling beside the gnome child. The body was untouched by any flame, however his throat had been slit. The cut was clean, made most likely by a blade rather than a claw. A sacrifice? Drake inspected the boy’s hands. The dirty, small, lifeless hands held nothing, yet they seemed to posses the faint scent of sulfur of which the half-elf took note. Drake gritted his teeth, carefully turning the small child face-down. Beneath the boy the half-elf spotted large scales of ruby and copper. He held them close, carefully inspecting each piece for validity.

“So there were dragons,” he thought to himself, pocketing the scales.

The halflings led the way as Feywyn followed, remaining in her lupine form. The pungent smell of death and smoke surrounded them. As they cautiously approached the nearest burrow, they could see the fiery reach of the destruction. From the blackened doorway, they gazed upon the cindered remains of the gnomish home. The wooden frames had all splinted and turned to charcoal. Parts of the home giving had given way to the weight of the ground above. What colors there once were had faded, leaving nothing but black and grey.

Tears escaped from Feywyn’s eyes, joined only by Sorina’s as they approached the nearest gnome burrow. What remained of the door had been turned black with soot, hanging precariously by a single hinge. Stevan entered the abandoned home, sifting through the charred furniture in search of anything of use.

“Bruzer, vhat are you doing?” Sorina sniffled, wiping the streaks from her face.

“Papa, er, de rom baro asked us to help de gnomes, but it seems der are no gnomes left, da?”

“Dis is wrong! Ve can not steal from de dead Stevan.” Sorina crossed her arms, holding herself from trembling.

“But de rom baro vill expect—“

“No bruzer! Papa could not have expected this! No von could.”

Stevan halted. Without turning he could feel his sister’s tearful eyes. The same eyes as their mother’s. He sighed then turned to the doorway, wiping his hands on his pants. He stepped heavily past Sorina and the red wolf, exiting the empty home.

“Rom baro vill not be happy vhen ve return empty handed.” His cold voice made Sorina shiver.

Under normal circumstances the wandering halflings would take what they could to survive, however Sorina felt uneasy taking from the dead. She imagined the spirits of the gnomes cursing them for robbing them. Stevan wished to one day succeed their papa and become the next gypsy king, yet Sorina could not imagine her papa acting this way.

The little wolf deeply regretted coming. Her visions warned her of the imminent cataclysm. Her mind was plagued with wonder. Why had she been chosen for such a dreadful task? Why had this happened? Who or what had caused this? Have the dragons truly returned?

Feywyn wished so desperately to be home with her family. Surely this was no task for a simple child. She felt her heart break endlessly with every moment. She turned to run far from this terrible atrocity, yet a faint sound appeared. She looked to the twins for answers yet there were none. Her ears turned as did she, trying to find the source of her curiosity. The sound was muffled as though hidden within the ground.

Feywyn snuck away deeper into the ruins of the burrow, the quiet feel of burned debris crushed beneath her paws. Further into the shadowy home she found the remnants of a bedroom. The ceiling had all but entirely collapsed around the small bed. With little light, she searched the room, listening intensely . She held her breathe as her heart beat faster. Again the sound slipped into her ears from within the room., yet this time it had been clearer. Without a thought, Feywyn returned to her elven form, immediately casting light upon her staff. Pointing the edge of her staff, she peered into an opening beneath the bed. The white radiance of her staff pushed back the darkness, revealing the face of young gnomish child.

Her heart stopped, her hazel eyes surveying the child for life. The little gnome exhaled, relinquishing all fear within the elf if only for a moment. Carefully, Feywyn reached for the child, stretching beneath the bed. Her cheek pressed against the cool side of the bed, feeling the weight of the ground beginning to rumble and shift. She pushed herself further, narrowly missing the child’s arm. Again she could feel the looming threat of another collapse. Refusing to give up, Feywyn threw her hand beneath the bed, catching the child’s sleeve. Immediately she grasped the child’s arm, pulling her free. Wood began to creak as Feywyn pulled the child into her arms.

Without a moment to spare, the bed began to break as the ceiling began tear further apart. Dust began to billow around them. With the child in her arms Feywyn lunged out of the bedroom. The roar of dirt flooding the room behind echoed in the barren hallways. Feywyn held the gnome child in her arms, brushing the dirt from its face. She was a sweet child, with brown hair just past the nape of her neck. Feywyn could not save the gnomes from the cataclysm, yet somehow this simple child made it all worth while.

Wearily the child’s eyes opened. Her eyes could barely distinguish the blurry details of Feywyn’s face. Just as the child’s eyes began to focus within the dark and dusty burrow, she fell unconscious. A slow crawling realization began to overcome the elf. It was forbidden for her people to be seen by outsiders. Feywyn struggled to find the answer, but a familiar voice called out.

“Little volf? Ver are you?”

Feywyn laid the child rested against the wall, caressing her face, then transformed once again into her lupine form.

Sorina treaded carefully through the dark charred halls of the gnomish home, her eyes steadily adjusting to the darkness. She turned into a broken corridor. Her eyes met with the wolf’s then fell upon the gnome child beside her.

“Vat is this?” Sorina leaned closer to the child, listening for her breath.

“She is still alive! We must bring her outside!” The wolf barked as if in agreement.

The little halfling pulled the child onto her back then carried her out of the burrow, the red wolf following closely behind. Stevan turned to his sister as she climbed out of the blackened doorway. His eyes widened as helped his sister.

“Vat happened? You disappeared.” Stevan looked behind his sister into the darkness behind.

“It seems our little volf had found a survivor. Good girl!”

Feywyn smiled inside, although she was uncomfortable playing pet for the halfling Sorina. The three spotted Drake and Xanthor across the blackened field, steadily making their way to rejoin them. The half-elf dusted his hands, surveying the area. As the halfling twins and Feywyn approached, Drake turned his focus onto the rescued child. He did not speak until the four approached feet of them.

“You found a survivor? Perhaps our visit was not all for naught.” Drake said softly as he inspected the child.

“De little volf found her.” Sorina smiled, turning to Feywyn.

“Your friend... vat is wrong wit him?” Stevan leaned over to gain a better view of the human.

“I am sure he is deep in thought.” The half-elf turned to his friend, wiping the tome before holding it out. “Xanthor?”

Fear began to fester inside of Drake. His heart began to pound as he walked around his motionless friend. Sorina shifted the child higher on her back, drawing closer between the half-elf and the young human. She studied his blank face, biting her lip, then silently gasped.

“Y-your friend... he is in shock!” Drake turned to Sorina, his face overcome with worry. “My grandmuzer has told me of dis. Doz who see des for de first time are effected in different vays. Your friend is unconscious, yet standing, see?”

“Xanthor, my brother, please snap out of it!” Drake held Xanthor’s shoulders, gently shaking him as the human stood nearly lifeless. The young man fell hard onto his knees, the half-elf catching him.

“I am sorry, but time is de only cure for dis.” Sorina shook her head, looking up at Drake.

Drake was overcome with emotion. He was worried for his friend, for his family. He was angry with himself for not insisting that his friend, his brother, should have stayed behind. This was the reality of the world that they lived in and yet he had welcomed his dearest friend to join. What a fool he had been. Why had he not realized the condition of his friend before? A terrible thought seeped in to Drake’s mind. What will become of them should they return home now?

It had become late in the afternoon for the sun had slipped away into the horizon. Stevan yawned sleepily, stretching his entire body. He glanced at the horizon, following the setting sun then across to the West. Squinting his eyes to the hilltops, small flickers of light began to appear. The flames dances and bobbed then began to multiply. He turned slowly to the others, trying to gain their attention.

“Excuse me, but perhaps now is time to leave?” Drake and Sorina’s eyes followed as Stevan pointed to the flickering hilltop.

The herd of flames began to steadily cascade down the hill, making its way to So’dale. Drake slung his pack from his back, pushing the tome inside.

“No good will come of this. We must flee.” Drake whispered to the others.

“Ve must tell everyone vat ve have found.” Sorina’s eyes remained fixated on the marching flames as they drew nearer.

“Look!” Stevan exclaimed, pointing to the East.

Another field of flickering torches began to swarm, heading towards the city.

“The wagon…” Drake began to swear under his breath. “We need to hide, but where?”

“De ponies vill be fine. Dhey are trained to return to our camp should anyting happen. Ve need to return to town.” Stevan’s voice wavered with uncertainty. The half-elf turned to Stevan.

“Brilliant!” A sheepish grin broke across Drake’s face. His eyes turned deeper into the ruins of So’dale.

“Vat are you thinking?” Sorina shifted the gnome child further up onto her back, staring at Drake with curiosity.

“We should head into the heart of So’dale. There must be a place where the gnomes would have retreated if their city had fallen. A place where they could hide or escape.”

“You are crazy!” Stevan turned to his sister for agreement, however Sorina stepped by the half-elf. “You are both crazy!” Stevan threw his arms up in defeat, following begrudgingly.

“Xanthor...” Drake urged his young friend to wake, yet he remained unconscious, expressionless. The half-elf reached below, then lifted his friend onto his shoulders. “Apologies my friend.”

Together the group travelled swiftly across the blackened fields, deeper into the city of So’dale. Drake knew this city well, yet tried his best not to reminisce upon every site within the hallowed city. The shops, the smells, the people, all were but empty memories now. Stevan turned to look behind, glancing at the blurry figures behind. He watched in the distance as their numbers grew, flooding the city from every path. It was difficult for them to move quickly. Xanthor and the child proved to be problematic, but it was not their fault. When they slowed, the half-elf pushed them. When lost, he led them. Despite their differences, they were driven by a common goal; to survive.

The city of So’dale had been built upon the once green hills of trees. The main road to the city’s main hall sloped downward in natural tiers. As the mixed band travelled deeper into the heart of the ruins, noticeably fewer bodies were scattered in the streets. The ground quietly rumbled beneath their feet as their shadowy followers drew ever closer. The group dared not look back now, pressing harder with each aching foot onward. Twilight fell and the night had crept over the lands. Soon the group approached the remains of the city’s great hall. The hill above had collapsed much like a waterfall, blocking the main entryway. Peeking from the wall above were two open broken windows.

Drake led the others upon the cascading hill of dirt and rubble, climbing to an open window. As they climbed inside, they looked back upon their pursuant. Beneath the sea of torchlight stood hundreds of diminutive reptilian figures. Their brown scaly skin shimmered against their torchlight as their reptilian heads turned, sweeping the empty streets with their yellow eyes.

“Vat are dey? Vat do dey vant?” Sorina whispered.

“Kobolds, the minions of elder dragons. It is likely they are searching for survivors,” Drake replied. “The question now is why.”

Carefully the half-elf laid Xanthor beside the doorway. Looking about the room, Drake searched for anything to barricade the window. The room was small, appropriate for a gnome’s size. The room looked as though it had once served as a study. With all of his might, Drake and Stevan pushed a large bookcase, then an oak desk against the window. As the two covered the shattered windows, the dim room turned nearly pitch black. They heard the eerie calls of the kobolds nearby. Sifting through his pack by touch, the half-elf produced bits of flint and steel.

In the darkness the group watched as sparks gave light to a torch in the half-elf ‘s hand. A quiet sigh of relief broke into the small room. Handing the torch to the little halfling Stevan, Drake lifted Xanthor over his shoulders once again. The fire revealed two adjacent wooden doors. Across from the window Stevan jostled the handle.

“Locked.”

Stevan turned to the other door. Slowly he turned the copper doorknob. Opened, the door creaked eerily, echoing into the endless hallway beyond to the right. Dirt had broken through what once was a stained glass window beside the door. Paintings and doors lined the walls of the hallway with the names of city officials. The group treaded carefully through the darkness as Stevan clutched their only source of light. At the end of the long hallway they stopped. They stood at the top of a grand foyer with several dark hallways, littered with forgotten affects. Facing them near the end of the wide curved stairs, they could make out two relatively large metal doors, etched with artistic beauty.

As they descended down the stairs, the group could hear faint echoes of clacking footsteps. Drake moved ahead to the tall metal doors. The art upon them depicted the history of the gnomes, cultivating the lands into their city and hiding away from dragons long ago. Setting the young wizard onto his feet beside the door, Drake pulled the doors open with all of his might. The chamber echoed with the sounds of metal grinding against stone. The echoes of bodiless footsteps grew in the darkness. Stevan handed the large torch to his sister, joining beside the half-elf. Together they pulled the chamber doors open. A sudden gust of wind billowed from the doorway, debris fluttering about. Feywyn growled at the looming darkness as Stevan reclaimed the torch from his sister.

“Quickly! Inside!” Stevan shouted, aiding his sister beyond the doorway.

Drake shouldered Xanthor’s unconscious body, following the halflings. Feywyn growled, watching the chamber as she walked backwards behind the rest. Together, they pushed the doors closed. As the large metal doors began to shut tight, Drake peered into the chamber. Hundreds of reptilian creatures beneath the familiar sea of torches scoured the room. In the midst of the army of kobolds stood a single, larger draconic figure. It towered over the kobolds, barking at them from its long sharp mouth. The being had a sinister grin as it sniffed the air. Dressed in robes of crimson and gold, its outstretched scaly arm pointed with a large broadsword towards the doors. The dragon like humanoid cocked its head, spotting the half-elf.

The sound of the metal doors closing boomed throughout the damp underground tunnel. The rough, uncut walls of the cavern were illuminated with copper filigree sconces. The group jumped at the first crescendo of pounding of the doors behind. Stevan led Sorina downward along the stone laid stairs as Drake and the red wolf backed away from the doors. Drake searched along the frame of the doors. Surrounding the cold iron doors were a series of gears and chains. The half-elf kicked the gears closest to him, breaking the mechanism. As the iron gears clattered to the floor, Feywyn’s head tilted, mildly impressed. Together with Xanthor on Drake’s shoulders, the half-elf and the wolf rushed down the stairs following the stout twins.

The stairs twisted and turned as the weary travelers walked deeper into the carved tunnel. The weight of the gnome child began to present itself upon the little halfling Sorina. She tightened her grip on the child, pacing herself with each step. Feywyn watched helplessly, fighting the urge to reveal herself if only to help. Drake’s steps grew heavy with the burden of both his friend and his condition. There was no denying their tired expressions, yet they knew they could not stop. Ahead, they could hear the sounds of whispers and cries. They treaded carefully as they reached a large opening near the base of the stairway. To their amazement, they were greeted by the terrified gaze of gnomes dressed in copper armor. Behind them, the remaining survivors of the calamity from above.

Windrunner

Several gnome guards lowered their pikes, pointed readily at the intruders. Stevan raised his hands in response, dropping the burning torch before his feet. The red wolf lowered herself between Sorina and Drake, watching the guards intently.

“W-who are you?” a nearby guard asked nervously.

“Ve are members of de Vanderlust Vonders. Ve have come to help.” Stevan smiled sheepishly, his eyes following the tips of the pikes drawing closer.

“Ve came with supplies, erm…” The little halfling hesitated, quickly remembering the wagon outside.

“We are travelers from the nearby town of Merrischaum. We come in peace.” Drake stepped closer, shifting Xanthor upon his weary shoulders.

“It’s hard to believe some halflings and an elf came to help us. How do we know you aren’t dragons?” the guard queried, eyeing the strangers.

The group looked at one another with confusion.

“Vat do you mean?” Sorina replied.

“W-well, dragons have been known to change shape. How do we know you’re not dragons in disguise?”

An elder gnome pushed his way past the guards up the stone steps, standing before Sorina. His hair was wild and white with age. He inspected the child rested on the halfling’s back through his spectacles. The half-elf took note of the gnome’s brown robes with bottles of various shapes and sizes affixed to it; the mark of a fabled gnome alchemist.

“Rosel! My dear sweet daughter. Where did you find my poor sweet lass?” the older gnome began to tear, reaching for the child.

“Dhe little volf found her in one of the homes above.” Sorina’s voice began to fall faint with each word as she empathized for the loss the gnomes must have felt.

“This could be some sort of trick. How do we know you’re not dragons, waiting to let our guards down?” The guard pressed.

“If ve ver dragons, vould ve not simply change now?” The guards stepped back, threatened by Stevan’s words.

“Palup, stranger things have happened on this day.” The older gnome caressed the child in his arms then turned to the guard speaking. “They would have eaten us already were they dragons lad. Please, come by the fire so I may know the saviors of my daughter better..”

As the weary band made their way down the stairs, the gnomes stared wide-eyed, keeping their pikes at the ready. They moved to a nearby campfire in the cold expansive cavern. Hundreds if not thousands of gnomes huddled together, many sobbing or talking amongst themselves. Further across from the stairway stood a large raised platform before a carved tunnel. Mobs of gnomes stood about the platform, suspiciously waiting.

Drake carried Xanthor to a makeshift triage near the edge of the cavern. There upon a small open bedroll he laid his friend. A young female gnome dressed in white robes silently presented herself. She looked at the half-elf then the human then nodded to Drake. Drake returned to the halflings and the elder gnome. Small wooden boxes and barrels were littered about the fire as makeshift seats, the elder gnome taking one for himself.

“I am Cosmo Swiftthistle. Thank you so much for finding and bringing my daughter back to me. I truly can not thank you enough. I must ask however, what brings an elf, a human, and two halflings to So’dale?”

“I am Drake Revion, and this is Sorina, Stevan, and our curious little wolf Red.” Feywyn glanced at the half-elf with distain. She disliked the nickname he had given her, but she accepted it given the circumstances.

“Please tell us, vhat has happened here?” Sorina asked, nearly choked with tears.

Cosmo leaned back in his seat, staring distantly into the fire as he stroked his thin white beard.

“It was a fine summer’s morning here in So’dale. The city had been in high spirits preparing for the midsummer’s festival. I had been working on a new discovery in my workshop, when I heard the screams from outside. I could hardly believe the shouts. God almighty, the screams were unalyrian! I looked outside to see what was the matter and would you believe it? Dragons! Dragons had returned! Not one but many. Large, ferocious red dragons came, flying over the city breathing fire. They burned the trees and the hills to the ground! I told my dear sweet Rosel to stay inside…”

The old gnome shook his head angrily, looking over his daughter resting softly in his arms.

“I… was weak, frozen with fear. I tried to move, but the guards had come, ushering us all to the city’s center. The dragons had flown overhead, burning everything in site. As the guards pushed us away, I could see the fields near the city’s edge. You would think me mad for saying so, but I swear to you that I saw hellish devils walking in the fires of it all.”

The fire crackled fiercely, breaking the wood to ashen cinders. As everyone stared at Cosmo with disbelief, the carven grew silent.

“Perhaps I am mad with age and in the chaos my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I could swear that I saw the devils dancing in the flames. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would think myself mad. Dragons and devils working together, slaughtering us like sheep.”

The gnome began to tremble, rocking his sweet daughter in his lap. His eyes hidden, stared distantly into the fire, the flames reflecting from his glasses. The half-elf listened to the echoes of Cosmos’s words, trying to find answers. He leaned closer to the gnome, whispering quietly.

“There were dragons scales found on the ground above. Scales from a red dragon as well as copper.”

“Ah, yes. The copper dragons came to protect us, but they were outnumbered and unmatched. The entire time I had thought I was dreaming! Copper dragons fighting red, as devils danced in the flames of our city. Perhaps I am mad?” Cosmo stroked his thin beard as he contemplated his sanity.

“The gnomes that we found. Their bodies had not been burned, yet their throats had been slit. Can you tell me how this happened?” The half-elf fought the nightmarish images of the fallen gnomes he had found from his mind.

“Please, no more questions. You all look as weary as the rest of us. There is little food, but you are welcome to it.” The elderly gnome continued to rock his daughter in his arms, humming quietly.

Drake felt the soft small hand of Sorina on his shoulder as she stood behind him. He turned to her knowing her thoughts. He had asked too much from the gnome and should let him be. Drake quietly thanked Cosmo then turned his attention to the far end of the tunnel. The halflings and Feywyn followed behind as the young half-elf climbed the steps of the wooden platform. The more he watched, the more bewildered he was by the curious looks the gnomes had. It was as though they were waiting in line, but for what?

An unfamiliar howl began to grow in the dark tunnels of the cavern. The gnomes turned their attention to one side with anticipation. Swiftly approaching came a large wooden beast of gnomish design. As it drew closer, its speed lessened until finally it had stopped before the platform. Drake held the hilt of his swords with caution as he, Feywyn, and the halflings marveled at the strange gnomish invention.

“Never seen a windrunner have you?” A small gnome queried. “They’re the pride of gnomish ingenuity.”

“I have heard rumors of gnomes building some secret transport beneath the ground, yet I admit I had hardly believed them.” The half-elf relinquished his hold of his blades, studying the craft.

The contraption was made of finely crafted wood and metal, shaped in the image of a slender copper dragon. Its shape rested along a stone carved railway beneath the platform and through the dark tunnels of the cavern. Curiously, the dragon’s wings of the craft were folded and its body hallowed for seating of perhaps a dozen. Light peered from the dragon’s eyes, piercing through the darkness beyond.

“Where does this craft lead?” Drake asked the gnome.

“The windrunners can travel anywhere beneath Qaelordra, however as of right now we are evacuating to the outskirts of Settrigal. If you’ll excuse me.” The weathered gnome gathered his belongings and waved farewell to the half-elf and halflings behind, eager to depart.

The busy platform creaked beneath the weight of the gnomes as they boarded the transport. Many of the passengers carried their belongings, hoarding what they could, while others travelled light with only their family to care for. The young gnome whom Drake had spoken to boarded behind the head of the vehicle, pushing and pulling the instruments hidden beneath. Groans of metal-against-metal bellowed over the platform as the craft steadily departed, sliding across the tracks. Soon the draconic ship began to gain speed, disappearing into the dimly lit tunnels beyond.

“Shall ve follow?” Sorina wryly smiled at the half-elf.

“We must warn the King.” Drake nodded to the halfling.

It was difficult to move given his size. The half-elf towered over the gnomes yet the halfling twins easily the shortest here. Sorina kept a vigil eye on her brother as they passed through the crowds. It would be all too easy for them to pick the pockets of the survivors, but a sense of shame steadied Sorina’s hands. Feywyn stayed by Drake’s side, her senses wild with new sights and sounds. As they approached the medical triage made by the gnomes, they were greeted by a young female gnome dressed in white robes standing at Xanthor’s side.

“Is this your friend strangers?” The gnome’s voice was soft yet clearly exhausted.

“How is he?” Sorina whispered, surveying Xanthor’s pale face.

“Your friend is awake, but he seems to be in shock. I have done what I can for now.” The young gnome turned to the human beside her. “Like the others I have seen, he will need time to regain his senses.”

Xanthor had been sitting on the petite bedroll, gazing distantly. Sorina brushed the young human’s hair from his expressionless face. The more Drake looked upon Xanthor, the more shame he felt. The feeling of failing his close friend and his family grew. The half-elf knelt beside his friend.

“Xanthor, are you well enough to travel? We are heading to Settrigal to warn the King.” Drake spoke softly, yet the young human did not move. “My dear, dear friend. Please wake up.”

Drake sighed heavily with despair, carefully lifting Xanthor onto his feet. Xanthor stood wearily as Sorina aided them. Stevan and Feywyn followed helplessly behind. They waded through the masses, waiting their turn for the windrunner.

Some time had passed as the gnomes were slowly ferried from the cavern to the darkness beyond. Drake admired the gnome survivors. There was little sense of panic in the air, the lines for the transport were well organized, and many gnomes offered their food or water to them as they waited patiently. The red wolf seemed eager to try the foreign food given to her, yet everyone but Stevan had seemingly eaten little. Xanthor would not eat nor drink, only stare off.

Patiently the group waited near the end of the platform. The familiar call of the windrunner echoed in the tunnels of the cavern. The eyes of the craft beamed through the darkness as it drew closer, halting before the wooden platform. Steadily the group seated themselves on the strange craft. Though the benches built into the vehicle were diminutive, the seats were accommodating. Together they sat near the head of the windrunner. Everyone watched as the captain of the vessel began adjusting the strange instruments at the nape of the dragon’s head.

With subtly the vehicle moved forward along the tracks. Although it had felt wrong, Sorina grew with excitement as Feywyn peeked her head over the cool wooden edge of the craft. The windrunner pressed on through the dim tunnel, leaving the large cavern behind. With light beaming from the dragon’s eyes, the passengers gave a shout as the tracks began to sink rapidly. The windrunner dropped suddenly then shot through the darkness. The light reflected from the stalactites of the ceiling above like glittering teeth.

The windrunner continued to twist and turn rapidly. A rare feeling of fear overcame Drake as he clutched the driver’s seat before him. He turned to Sorina as she screamed, yet not for fear but with excitement. Stevan screamed beside his sister, wide eyed. The little wolf clawed herself securely to the bench, her mouth open in shared excitement with Sorina. Feywyn released a joyous howl, echoing into the endless tunnel. The sounds of metal and wood shook violently. Drake, forcing his eyes to remain open, peered into the black distance. There he had found a bright light. The windrunner twisted, darting along its path as it flew into the radiant light.

Entering the light, the eyes of the passengers adjusted to the sudden brightness of the sun’s glow. They quickly found themselves airborne, flying like an arrow into the sky beyond the tunnel. A shrill shriek rang in their ears from someone behind as they began to fall. The driver smiled briefly to the half-elf, jerking hard on a lever, releasing the dragon’s copper wings. The craft swooped higher into the air from its dive, soaring across the verdant fields far below. Gliding like a leaf in the wind, the dragon-craft flew through the mouth of a looming cave nearby.

The windrunner dropped violently onto the hidden tracks of the cave, collapsing its wings then slowing to a halt. Still clutching the seat before Drake, the half-elf turned his attention to the platform beside them. One-by-one the passengers departed the vehicle. Stevan clumsily toppled over the side of the windrunner, followed by his sister. Feywyn barked at the half-elf, urging him to move. Drake climbed to his feet, lifting Xanthor onto his back. Together they exited the terrifying craft.

“Can ve do dat again?” Sorina exclaimed.

Stevan glared at his sister, shaking his head.

“Now I know what an arrow feels like.” The half-elf mused, a smile breaking across his face.

As the weary band walked behind the gnomes in short strides, they turned back to watch as the windrunner sped off into the dark tunnels beyond. The pathway ahead led them to the surface outside. From the hillside they could see off in the distance the glittering city of gold, Settrigal. Their strength returned, giving speed to the weary travelers beneath the sunrise.

The City of Gold

Across the grassy fields of the Tal’yard plains, the survivors of So’dale wearily marched. Afraid and uncertain of their future, the gnomes rushed the remaining distance to the gates of Settrigal. Carved upon the tall stone archway were the words of welcome.

“Welcome all to Settrigal, the City of Gold.”

Donning his hood, Drake concealed his elven heritage. Guards dressed in golden armor watched in disbelief as the gnomes passed them by. Feywyn in her lupine form drew closer beside the half-elf, leery of what awaited beyond. The sounds of gnome men, women, and children crying were softly drowned in the symphony of the city.

Settrigal had been appropriately named the City of Gold. Gazing with wide wonder, the company marveled at the sites of the city. All around them, draconic figures and faces of the city’s fabled gold dragons had been carved into the scenery. Regal banners, stain glass windows, stone carvings covered in gold; the details were truly life-like. Towering high upon the peak of a hill in the city center, an elegant castle. The castle tower shingles themselves looked as though they were made of gold, shimmering beneath the morning sun.

Further into the city, the gnomes had dispersed, spreading to taverns and inns in search of shelter and food. Drake turned his attention to the castle far before them. He had visited Settrigal many times before out of curiosity, yet the castle remained a mystery to him. The group followed the half-elf through the busy city streets to the stairs of the castle. The halflings marveled at the glimmering castle as they approached. Feywyn remained by Drake’s side, constantly fighting the urge to explore the wonders surrounding them.

Nearly breathless from their long journey, Drake stepped forth to the castle gates. Xanthor began to slip from the weary half-elf’s back. Drake steadied the young man onto his feet, motioning the little halflings for assistance. Guards, clad in shimmering gold armor, jeered at the strange company, shaking their heads.

“What’s this? Another halfling troupe come to beg for donations?”

Sorina leered at the guard menacingly as the little wolf defended her, growling. Drake bowed formally before the guards then spoke.

“We have come with the survivors of So’dale. We have evidence of the return of dragons and fear for the safety of your city.”

“Well that’s a new story! I’ll be sure to tell the king over tea when next we meet.” The guards laughed heartily with gestures, mocking the half-elf.

“This is not a game! The city is in grave danger! Please, we must see the king at once!”

The guards grew irritated with their guests, scowling.

“You keep this up lad and I’ll send you and your transient friends to the dungeon.”

“Do not confuse them for common vagabonds!”

The bodiless voice boomed, echoing from the walls of the gatehouse.

Xanthor rose to his feet, extending his hands as a cascade of vibrant light flooded the archway, his eyes burning with a fiery blue glow. Surrounding them, familiar yet translucent figures and shapes appeared. A small aerial view of what once was a peaceful So’dale appeared. Suddenly, red dragons appeared from the sky, swooping down upon the gnome city, razing the lands until all were black and grey. An orchestra of screams and roars echoed in the corridor of the gatehouse. Scattered about the stone gateway were the bodies of the gnomes, dead. The guards fell to their knees, sobbing uncontrollably, as the large wooden gates behind them groaned open. In the doorway, a lone figure dressed in blue robes stood, clutching his wooden staff.

“Come friends, we have little time.” Called the elderly stranger, turning to the castle.

Drake turned with amazement to Xanthor, his friend clutching his forehead. As the young man began to fall, the half-elf rushed to his side catching him. The halflings exchanged glances, then to the castle beyond. Xanthor returned resting upon the half-elf’s back as the group followed swiftly behind the blue robed stranger. Oddly, the guards seemed not to notice the uninvited guests as Feywyn cautiously gave chase to the man ahead. Be it luck or enchantment, Drake appreciated the circumstances. The path before them twisted and turned in the castle labyrinth as they followed the mysterious figure. At last, the old man stopped before a set of elegant white doors, marked with foreign symbols.

“Stay close and remain quiet. I will answer your questions once we are finished.” The old man whispered.

The stranger’s words soothed the party, despite the faint rasp in his voice. The white doors opened inward, revealing a small chamber beyond. The room was brightly lit by the sun’s light raining through the enchanting stain-glass windows. Displayed upon a raised stone level stood a stone archway. A man robed in black and blue stood rested against his black staff beside the archway, his eyes blindfolded. The curious old man led the group inside, his wooden staff clacking against the stonework floor with every step.

“Master Gaddrick, welcome.” The blind man hissed, turning to the old man.

“Good day Balgren. Keep up the good work.” Out from his robe, Gaddrick drew small pieces of wrapped candy and dropped them into Balgren’s outstretched palm.

“Always an honor archwizard.” The man whispered, pointing his black staff towards the archway.

Embedded near the end of Balgren’s staff, the blue gem began to glow. Summoned within the stone archway, an arcane torrent of smoke and stars grew, wind billowing in every direction. The wizard Gaddrick stepped forward, disappearing beyond the archway. Drake followed behind with Xanthor upon his back, leaving the halflings and the wolf behind. Feywyn glanced between the portal and Sorina, unsure of their actions. Sorina peered into the whirling vortex of mystical energy, flinching as energy crackled like lighting within.

“First time?” Balgren snickered, unwrapping a piece of candy, “The first time is the hardest. Try not to make a mess.” As he began to suckle on the bit of candy, the vortex instantly swallowed the wrapper from his fingertips.

Sorina stepped back, then lunged through the portal. Feywyn pounced behind, leaving Stevan to muster his courage. He jumped in place, shaking his limbs, then dashed through the portal, shouting madly.

Stevan fell, slamming into the ground. His stomach churned violently, his body convulsing. The halfling wiped his mouth on his sleeve, swallowing his pride as he looked away from the spatter he had projected. His teary eyes met with the feet of his sister. Sorina extended her hand, helping her brother to his feet. An older woman began mopping the ground, swearing under her breath behind them. The twin turned to the striking sound of a match, then watched as Gaddrick lit his long-stemmed pipe. Smoke billowed from his pipe and pursed lips. Drake shifted Xanthor higher upon his back, surveying the room.

The chamber was similar to the previous room, with two hallways joined on either sides. Guards dressed in gold draconic armor stood vigilant beside the portal archway and the far door. The white doors creaked open, as a woman peeked into the room. She entered silently, closing the doors carefully behind her. Her long gold hair swayed freely in sparse braids, exposing her pointed ears. Her deep blue eyes darted from the figures in the room then fell upon Gaddrick. As she approached, her white and gold robes swayed with her graceful strides.

“Sir Gaddrick, you’re late! The king and queen have been expecting you. Where have you been?” Her voice was airy, almost ethereal.

“My apologies Lady Anwyn. There had been some confusion with the guards at the gate.” Gaddrick smile wryly, puffing his pipe harder.

Anyway waved the smoke away, studying the others in the room.

“Your protégé’?” She asked, smiling warmly, “Gaddrick, your pipe.”

Gaddrick smothered the fire in his pipe, childishly apologizing to the elf. Anwyn led the way, quietly opening the door. As the others followed, the echoes of shouts spilled from the doorway. Beyond lie a large hallway leading them to a grand balcony. It had been made apparent that the company stood in the heart of a large tower chamber with multiple balconies. Each balcony bore the regal banners of various nations. Anwyn smiled at her guests, halting them. She walked to the edge of the balcony where two large seats faced away to the tower chamber. Anwyn bowed formally, then whispered to the seated figures. She turned to the group then motioned for them to come.

As the group drew closer, they turned to meet their hosts. A sudden sense of embarrassment overcame them as they soon quickly realized that they stood in the presence of royalty. The king and queen of Settrigal sat before them, smiling warmly at their guests. Helplessly they stared at their hosts with admiration. They were well aged with little wrinkles creased in their faces. Their golden hair had been peppered with grey streak. Their robes were visibly finely crafted silk. The halflings immediately bowed, daring not to rise. Drake knelt before them, careful not to let loose his weary friend.

“Welcome Gaddrick and welcome friends.” The queen whispered from her soft lips.

“Anwyn, please make preparations for their stay.” The king smiled, “Gaddrick, I hope you bring good news.”

“I do your majesty, but all in good time.” Gaddrick bowed, holding fast to his staff.

Everyone but their majesty stood by the cool stone rail of the balcony, admiring the vaulted chamber. The roar of the room had been quelled by the ringing of metal against stone. Far below the group could see a man standing in the center wielding a large metal staff with loose fitted rings. The room fell silent with all eyes upon him. The man raised his hand as if to control the room. Anwyn stood close beside Drake as he felt the weight of Xanthor leave him. He turned to watch as three white and gold robed figures carried the young human away.

“Do not worry. Your friend will be tended to as we wait.” The elf soothed, smiling at Drake, “Are you familiar with the Allied Council?”

“I have heard little of the inner workings of the council. I am unfamiliar with the politics of Quelordra.” Drake whispered.

“Well then, shall I give you a quick explanation?” She mused, resting against the stone rail, “The Allied Council is comprised of many prime races. The four elven nations sit high above, next the three gnome nations, followed by the four dwarven nations, then of course the inclusion of the ten major human nations, Settrigal amongst them. Delegations are held here in a tower of the Wizard’s Guild, and arbitrated by the seven magistrates. There in the center is Rowland, magistrate of Rivendale. One magistrate acts as the voice of the magistrates, however together the magistrates pass the appropriate verdict according to their nation’s laws. All political issues are discussed here to better the nations of Qaelordra. On rare occasions, other nations across Alyria are invited to delegate grievous issues.” Anwyn motioned to the members of the council as she spoke, “The council has not seen a conference this grand since the old Dragon War. It is a rare event to behold.”

“Where is King Thaedorean Goldforge of Mul’ghannon? Where is the first king of the mountain?” Gaddrick bellowed, his words resonating about the chamber.

“Our sincerest condolences archwizard Gaddrick, however it seems his line has ended. Mul’ghannon is now ruled by King Ohndorlim Emeraldeye.” The magistrate Rowland shouted, bowing before Gaddrick above.

With a look of remorse, Gaddrick turned his attention to the empty balcony of Mul’ghannon.

“And where is Mul’ghannon’s new king, Ohndorlim?”

“It is to the understanding of the council that King Ohndorlim Emeraldeye refused to grace us with his presence today.” Rowland grimaced, watching the expressions of the council members, “No matter. The issue brought to the Allied Council on this day is the threat of the most dire circumstances. Lady Elise Foxfoot of So’dale has reported the genocide of her people by the hands of none other but of red dragons.”

The chamber roared deafeningly as members shouted on their feet from their balconies. Anwyn stepped back from the balcony rail with surprise. Again, the sound of metal banging against stone rang through the enormous chamber.

“Order! Order ladies and gentlemen!” The room fell into silence once more as the magistrate glanced about the room. “There are reports of transient gnomes flooding into the city of Settrigal and all across Qaelordra. Lady Elise has requested the investigation of this incident and the aid of our council members for the gnomes.”

“As we speak Rivendale has sent the Azuremist Inquisitors to So’dale to investigate these claims.” Shouted an older lord.

Anwyn pointed to the lord whispering, “King Tanereth Godrinn of Rivendale.”

“Dragons have not been seen in nearly centuries! Why should we fear fairy tales and legends without evidence of some ludicrous claim?” Mocked a fiery red-haired lord.

“That is King Maletath Ixenjir of the fiery nation Durolia. You can imagine he is despised by many members of the council.” Anywyn smirked.

The council room roared once again, nearly deafening Drake’s keen ears beneath his hood. Gaddrick rested his hand on the half-elf’s shoulder, smiling kindly.

“I believe it is time to show the council what they want, wouldn’t you agree?”

Drake fished in his pockets, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges of the scales.

~ ~