<html> <head> <style></style> </head> <body class='hmmessage'>  Turned out there was an annoying aspect to Sreenii’s proposal in addition to the dangerous ones; he had to get back to them on it.  Apparently he had to run, or rather swim, off to go plead their case before whatever passed for leadership among merfolk to subsequently plead their case to the sea “god” Wvelkim, who would have to go convince Dvalin to let go of a grudge long held to a certain promiscuous and utterly mad dragon.  Any one of those junctures could conceivably hit a brick wall, and part of Zyn wondered if such a wall were hit whether Sreenii would just swim back and straight-faced lie to them so he could have the demon worshipping problem of theirs dealt and preferably get bunch of arrogant landlubbers killed.  Zyn expressed such reservations to his mentor, but the old goat had the gall to chuckle and actually state it was a possibility.  He reminded him, though, that ultimately Sreenii would have to con not the six cast aways but Xayk, a somewhat diceyer if not altogether impossible proposition.  Strange as it was, Zyn had some reason to be thankful for the dragon, though he’d only ultimately be thankful after he was standing on the mainland.  Work continued for the rest of the day on this and that, basically making sharpened spears even sharper and testing them on each others buttocks.  They ended up having to produce more pitch for torches as Lum and Pols engaged themselves in a dispute over women they had met years before and were thousands of miles away, resulting in Pols smothering the whole lot of the black substance into Lum’s hair while the later was taking a snooze.  After a prompt midget beating, they labored for a good two hours trying to strain the crap from local uncooperative wood when it was remembered that they had Xayk’s light spell during the descent and the glowing mushrooms in the labyrinth itself.  Parn nervously asked what if the men got “separated” from Xayk (as if none could figure out what he meant by that), but it was pointed out that if that happened they wouldn’t be able to navigate back through the confusing maze by themselves anyway.  This of course caused Pols to again voice his sharp discontent with the plan to which Lum dumped on his bald head a coconut shell filled with piss.  This succeeded in causing an all out brawl between the two sailors, and was only stopped when Xayk exclaimed, “Ooh, a pissing contest!” and promptly... joined in.  The two sailors were not allowed to rejoin the others until they had rinsed thoroughly in salt water so that everyone else didn’t have to gag constantly at the wretched acidic stench.  Clearly, anything that originated from inside the dragon’s bowels was not something to be shared with the light of day.     Clothes became and issue after it was quickly determined with uneasy queasing stomachs that the sailors’ garments had been irreparably “marked” and had to be done away with, preferably with fire.  This got rid of the smell, but it left the small fact that Lum and Pols were now less than modest in a way that they could not help.  Zyn’s laughs were met with smacks upside the head by both of them.  The most that could be managed were some ungainly palm leaves, so they both just gave up and strutted around the island naked.  Pols discovered that being completely bald head to toe made certain areas very sensitive to the wind, and ended up half the time hunched over protecting himself.  Lum at least was still hairy and so didn’t suffer quite so much, though both did have to endure enduring laughter from the others, except for Parn obviously who was too embarrassed to giggle.  That, and Xayk kept on whistling wolf calls and several times acted (they all hoped) like he was hitting on them.  Obviously they couldn’t continue to go around completely nude, so suggestions started being offered.  At one point it was suggested that they dig up Bresan’s grave and scrounge his clothes, but the thought of digging up the deceased sailor really didn’t sit well with any of them, nor would the garments smell all that well themselves after being worn underground on the dead man for nearly five days.  Ultimately, it was Xayk of all people who came up with a solution.  Delivering dinner for the cast aways, this time a giant swordfish of some kind, the dragon kept staring at the naked sailors whilst simultaneously attempting to goad the others into gang raping them.  When Grumiah pointed out Xayk’s preponderance for inappropriateness, the dragon shrugged and said life was too short to be appropriate.  He did, though, skin the fish and then hurry off to his Cliffside cavern, only to emerge an hour or so later with two unusual items.  “You made... fish scale clothes?” Zyn asked stupefied as he examined the garments.   “Just pants I’m afraid,” Xayk replied, “I’d like to have made more but I used the rest up.”    Lum and Pols both looked over their new replacement pants, amazed that aside from the fact they were made from fish scales, they looked more or less like pants.  Truly, this dragon was... not what one would expect.  At all.  “And,” Grumiah said, “You used to the rest of the hide up on what, exactly?” unable to quite hide a sense of apprehension.  The grin that erupted on the dragon’s snout was less than soothing.  “Why I make something for Steve of course!”  With that, he snapped around and grabbed something, spinning back about with a familiar coconut that was stitched on its bottom to a gown of all things.  “Er, is that a dress?”  “Yeah,” Xayk admitted, “Steve happens to be a transvestite.  I berate and belittle him all the time for it, but, see, now I have a bargaining chip.  If he gets bitchy on me again I can just eat his brand new dress!”  “...ok?”  “Oh, and don’t worry about those pants.  They might be a tad uncomfortable, but they won’t break.  And I most certainly would never curse or enchant them with undesirable side effects from the ungodly amounts of magic I used in making them so fast.”  Both sailors froze, looked at the fish-scale pants, then looked at each other long and hard.  Before long dusk started to settle and with it the cool breezes of evening.  Despite this, Lum and Pols both steadfastly refused to clothe themselves with Xayk’s gifts, leaving themselves quite cold and miserable in the process.  As usual, they compensated with banter and jeering, regaling all sorts of foibles accumulated from over the years, even goading Grumiah into recalling something of interest.  Giving in to their continued pressure to expound upon something he had let slip while onboard the ship, the quartermaster starting relenting.  “And,” Lum said as he repressed a slight shiver, “you let yourself get caught up by this how?”  “I was... rather drunk, I didn’t know any better.”  “Hurry up,” Pols urged, “get to the part where this fight between you and the priest came to blows!”  Zyn just shook his head, grinning.  “I stood up and I repeated that I thought the music was awful.  We exchanged some words, then he revealed that his brother was the musician in question.”  Pretty much all of them except Parn gwafawed at that.  Well, him and Xayk of course, who was sitting a way from them all a good distance, watching intently with those orange eyes, occasionally twitching his tail back and forth.  Zyn had to admit, Lorian might have been correct when he insisted the dragon was far more than he appeared.  There was an undeniable intelligence in those eyes as they glistened in the firelight, a mind cunning as it was unpredictable.  It was moments like these when Xayk more than at any other time scared Zyn.  It was when Xayk the buffoon and that monstrous, dark creature on the storming mountaintop could be seen in the same eyes.  Fortunately the laughter of the others served to at least somewhat distract him from such concerns, and he tried to follow the quartermaster’s story.  “What did you say to ‘em?” Pols asked eagerly.  “Told him that’d be the kind of music they’d be playing in hell to torment all the sinners.”  Resounding laughter filled the campsite at that.  “So it came to blows,” Lum surmised.  “How’d it go?”  “Well...”  “Don’t tell me you lost to him,” Zyn said with a grin forming.  “...I was drunk, remember?”  Again the cast aways degenerated into fits of laughter, even Parn cracked an embarrassed smile.   From there the conversation drifted, predictably right to where none of them really wanted to go but what they were all invariably thinking of.  “What if we open the door and they are all simply waiting for us?” Parn asked.  “I’d get an extra meal in that case,” Xayk responded, “but I doubt they’ll be waiting for us along the way down.”  “And just why not?” Zyn demanded.  “They know by now their captive is gone; they have to suspect us on this island.  Sreenii said you’re the dragon that’s known to be here; wouldn’t they try and respond in kind should that door open again?”  “Weeeell, there’s the slight problem that they don’t know about that door,” Xayk offered.  “How couldn’t they?” Grumiah asked.  “Oh trust me, they’re ignorant little fishies when it comes to that door.  Yes, fishies... with [i]teeth[/i].  But, the point to be made is that we won’t get caught going down.”  “You’re sure of that?” Zyn demanded.  “As sure as I am that Steve enjoys various inappropriate sexual fantasies about other fruit,” the dragon offered.  Needless to say, their fears weren’t quite put to bed.  “Hey,” Pols said, “here’s an idea; why do we have to go with you at all?  Can’t you just go down there without any... er, ‘measly’ humans to gum it all up?”  “Well, I could list a couple dozen reasons but I’ll just go with the fact that I’m lazy.”  When the snorts came Xayk added.  “Hey, I’m the centuries old dragon here; I can do things however I like to, damnit!”  There really wasn’t much point further arguing with the dragon, though Pols tried and was promptly sat upon, fortunately he wasn’t squished or (seriously) injured.  With night then totally upon them, Lum at least relented and put on the garments Xayk had fashioned for him, saying that if the dragon really wanted him cursed he’d just find a way; Pols continued to refuse, insisting the dragon was playing with them, getting kicks out of it whenever they fell for his traps.  Zyn didn’t pester him much about the issue; if the sailor’s obstinatence caused him to have a chilly uncomfortable night, he was more than happy to let him deal with those consequences.  To tell the truth about Xayk, though, Zyn wasn’t sure what to believe about him.  He was insanely dark, and yet... almost thoughtful all at the same time.  Whatever secrets those orange eyes held, they were no doubt a force unto themselves.  “I’m curious about something,” Zyn began as he sat down next to his mentor who laying on the beach gaping at the constellations above.  “That... is not something that surprises me,” Lorian offered, his voice strangely distant.  Come to think of it, the one armed man had been somewhat usually silent for the past few days.  While he had been keeping back and letting the others expend most of the hot air most of the time, he had been quieter ever since they met Xayk for some reason.  In fact his mind almost seemed to be in a different place.  Granted this island was an unsettling place that had no doubt done more than enough to push them all a little off kilter, but still...  “You know a little of the beings the Lightbringers call gods,” he said in the same tone he would call a usurper a king.  “Do you think this Wvelkim will agree to this bargain we’ve found ourselves stuck with?”  The fresco painter didn’t take his eyes off the stars as they imperceptivily drifted through the heavens.  “Perhaps.”  Zyn cocked his head and regarded his mentor with scrutinizing eyes.  What was with him?  Suppressing a sigh, he let his gaze follow the stars as well.  “You’d think sailors of all people would be the type to believe in beings that controlled the seas.”  “Mmm,” Lorian replied softly.  “There are always exceptions, always...” he searched for his next word thoughtfully, “possibilities.  And Grumiah seems to at least have a healthy respect for such things.”  “Yeah,” Zyn conceded.  In many ways Grumiah was one of the easiest to figure out among the cast aways.  “But I didn’t expect to see it from Pols and Lum.  The fact that they defend the strict line of the Ecclesia...  I can see them defending ardently what they do believe, but that’s not something I’d have guessed.  Especially Lum.”  The old man was silent for a while.  “He walks behind cheerful banter, that one.  There’s things he doesn’t want people to see.”  Zyn nodded, recalling his conversation with the sailor just before they had first discovered the cave several days ago, but was somewhat surprised at Lorian spelling something out so plainly.  Usually he made his student work for conclusions, not hand them to him.  “They almost sounded like the priests, insisting that the false gods are outright fabrications and don’t even exist at all.”  Lorian chuckled softly.  “Not much unlike our underwater friend seems to regard Eli.”  “But I’ve never understood why the priests insist so much on saying the pantheon simply doesn’t exist at all,” Zyn said.  “The Canticles keep referring to them over and over again not just as idols but as dangerous adversaries.  Wouldn’t it... wouldn’t it be [i]more[/i] effective if the priests said they existed so that the Ecclesia could make a more active guard against them?”  “You will find that interpretations, including those on the Canticles, [i]especially[/i] those on the Canticles, are as numerous as those stars up there,” he waved his hands at the sky.  “So, though, you believe the Lightbringers’ gods exist?” he asked with some measure of amusement, though never taking his gaze off the sky.  Zyn had not always disagreed with the priests on this position.  “...I think ‘gods’ isn’t the proper term.  A more accurate description would be a bunch of hoodlums and usurpers, spirits with power, but spirits that consciously and deliberately take more respect than they are owed.”  “Yes,” Lorian said. “Yes, it’s nice to know that the petty vices that consume mankind are not limited to mankind.”  Zyn regarded his master curiously.  “So, you’re just agreeing with me?”  The painter took his time before responding.  “The Celestials and Fiends, as they are sometimes called, could very well be described as usurpers in one sense, and likely have a certain hubris about them.”  Then a wry smile crossed his lips.  “But just as those of us are fools and usurpers and there are those who are not so much, there are perhaps some among their kind who are not quite blinded by arrogance, complacency and conceit.”  The rather sudden and out of the blue statement caught Zyn off guard and did its fair part to unnerve him.  In the nine years that he had travelled with the man he had never voiced opinions so... unique or colorful, not like this.  Sure, he had his patient, measure, and somewhat odd insights, but to be talking about pagan gods so...  “You aren’t drunk or something, are you?”  A deep chuckle straight from the belly was the response, again something Zyn hadn’t heard from his mentor in a long time.  Maybe the dragon’s crazy really was rubbing off.  “What’s the matter, can’t real human beings say things like that?”  Zyn thought for a moment before answering, “No,” just to be contrary.  “Ha!” Lorian let loose another laugh.  “You see that’s one thing I’ve always liked about you, what give you that spunk, that drive that just ignites when pressed against.  It gives you an edge that can give you an advantage in this world.”  “Ok,” Zyn said as he stood up, “Ok, you discovered some way to ferment coconut milk.”  “What?” Lorian asked nonchalantly as he adjusted his view to look at his student.  “Is there really something wrong with the way I’m talking?”  “Don’t ask me questions that you know how I’ll answer, old man.”  Lorian shrugged.  “Don’t I do that normally anyway?”  “I- You know what, screw you.” The fact that Lorian didn’t respond to that particular phrase in and of itself wasn’t surprising, the fact that he started humming a drinking song to himself was and confirmed that he was in a funk or something, he just [i]wasn’t[/i] normal.  Instead of arguing further, he tossed a pebble or two at his relaxing mentor’s head then headed off.  Plopping himself back down in front of the fire, Zyn just started as it crackled and wafted, noticing as Lum finished bugging Parn about something before the sailor finished or gave up, after which he deposited himself in front of the fire next to Zyn.  “What were you bugging the mage about?” Zyn asked.  “Aw, nothin’ much, at least nothing that came to anything.  I was just trying to see if he could help us out some with our up and coming ‘expedition.’”  Zyn turned to cast a glance at Parn as the mage fiddled with a hunk of fish meat, apparently busy being a picky eater while he was at it; he was so preoccupied that ended up losing his grip and dropping his food into the sand.  As he stared dejectedly at his dirty meal, by the fire Zyn just continued with the conversation.  “I don’t suppose you were able to wring any offensive spells out of him.”  The sailor scoffed in response.  “I’d have better luck trying to quench my thirst with all that seawater out there,” he gestured at the ocean that ultimately surrounded them on all sides.  “Just what is that mage supposed to be good at anyway?  Everything seems to be ‘not his specialty.’”  “Enchantments, actually; possibly some other stuff, none of it very glamorous or flashy.”  “So Eli gives us a mage on this loony trip, but not one that can actually do anything,” Lum chuckled without mirth.  “The priests say Eli works in mysterious ways,” Zyn ruminated, “But sometimes I think He’s got about as strange a sense of humor as Xayk.”  “Heh, I’ve yet to meet a priest who’ll admit to that,” Lum said.  “They all keep trying to reassure me that it’s all fine up in Heaven but ‘beyond our means to discern’ or some crap.”  “Well, it’s kinda hard to blame them for telling us stuff like that,” Zyn offered.  “If they told everyone that that came to them how scary the world really is they’d cause more panic than anything else.  Not exactly the most constructive thing to do.”  “So you think priests, or anyone with a lot of power for that matter, should just sugar coat things for all of us?  Like, say, if I had a terminal disease, they shouldn’t tell me that I’m gonna die soon?”  Zyn scoffed just a little.  “I didn’t mean anything like that.”  “So what do you mean by it?”  Picking at some sand, Zyn paused as he tried to order the thoughts in his mind coherently.  “People shouldn’t gloss things over or make problems less than they are.  There’s a way to tell others things they need to hear, but there’s also wrong ways to do it.  Plus,” he added, “I think Eli is pretty mysterious enough that it’s genuinely hard to just explain how He does things.”  “Eh, probably,” Lum said as he rubbed his beard.  “And,” Zyn said as another thought came to him, “Sometimes us little mortals aren’t all that smart.  Even if we’re told something point blank we don’t always listen,” he said, echoing Lum’s own arguments from the discussion they had had just a few days before.  “Just look at the Predecessors,” he gave an example, referring to the people Eli had chosen ages ago as his Chosen People, that is until they failed to listen to His commands one too many times.  “Yeah,” Lum said, his voice becoming strangely distant.  [i]Oh great, him too?[/i] Zyn thought.  He didn’t need someone else going loopy tonight.  “What?”  The sailor looked at him apologetically.  “Hm?”  “You suddenly got a weird look on your face.”  “...Oh.  One, just... nothing.  It’s just talking about Predecessors, it brought back some old thoughts.  Zyn raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?” he asked, his curiosity raised.  “Just...” Lum trailed off, looking like he was debating saying anything.  “My family was once Yehudim.”  Now that Zyn hadn’t seen coming.  He didn’t allow himself to dwell though, swallowing his surprise at the sailor’s admission of his family being of the Predecessors.  “Was?” he repeated.  “A long time ago, when I was just a wee little toddler,” he held his hand out to show how short he was talking, “They converted at some point around then, and we never really talked about it much at home.”  Though he shouldn’t have, Zyn’s thoughts toward one question that his curiosity wouldn’t let go of.  “Was it... voluntary?” he asked, daring to give voice to his somewhat marginal thoughts.  Granted, it probably wouldn’t really affect how he thought of the sailor.  If anything, this was actually just the sort of little question he should know; it was always the little turning points in people’s lives and how they reacted that did a great deal to define them.  Such was one of Lorian’s most persistent admonitions.  The sailor shrugged.  “To be honest, I have no idea.  I just know my parents brought us up to be good Followers of the Way.  We’re still talking about the same all-powerful god, after all, so I guess none of us really risked anything by becoming Followers.”  Zyn swallowed and shifted, diverting his attention to pushing some rocks around at his feet.  Judging that that avenue thoroughly explored, it was perhaps wise to not expose it to further light of day just yet, lest they hastily reopen old wounds.  He decided to find another point to discuss.  “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully.  “I never really had much in the way of family,” he said at long last.  “Just my mother’s parents and some really distant cousins.”  As he hoped, Lum took this as an invitation to divulge his own history.  “Didn’t have too much of an extended family.  At least that we ever talked about or met,” he added quickly.  Zyn caught the undertone in the extra sentence of a subject intended to be brushed aside quickly.  “Had a big enough of an immediate family to worry about,” he added with a fond smile.  “Seven brothers and three sisters; now [i]that[/i] was a hectic childhood.”  “Lemme guess,” Zyn said, “You were the scourge and noisebox of the village.”  Lum laughed at this appraisal.  “Not quite, there were a few rowdier and larger families in the village if you can believe it, but we had our fair share.  It’s this little place along in eastern Pyralis called Veybrean east of Dorbearn.  Me and my brothers would try and pick fights and challenge some of the other boys nearly every night.  I swear there was always someone causing a racket in that place.”  Now he was getting into it; Zyn just laid back and let the sailor tell his story.  I remember,” Lum gestured with his hands, “I remember this one time we broke into a neighbor’s barn to try and get some fresh milk for some girl my older brother Dorlan was keen on.  We were a [i]little[/i] drunk at the time.” Zyn snickered at that no doubt important detail.  “And we snuck in, all macho and ‘ain’t we so skilled to pull this off’-like, thinking that we’d waltz right in and just milk us a cow, and we...” he started breaking down laughing, “Dorlan tries to milk the thing, but nothing comes out.  For [i]five minutes[/i] he keeps trying this, and we’re getting worried that the farmer’s gonna get suspicious at the lantern lights and noises coming out of his barn.  Finally my brother gets something to squeeze outta this cow, and we’re all wondering why the milk looks weird, so we get Clovis to try and bring the lantern up so we can get a good look, and the idiot trips over a shovel and causes this huge ruckus.  Then, right then the farmer comes snoppin’ around and spots us, charging like a maniac with his pitchfork.”  Zyn’s smile widened across his whole face as he found himself joining the sailor in degenerate laughter.   “He’s comin’ at us shouting, ‘I’m gonna bash and cut you into little pieces and leave you for the dogs to eat!’  Naturally us boys just bolt into a panic and we scatter this way and that like mad.  Another of my brothers, Murdock, ends up running clean into a support beam and just goes *bam!*” Lum clapped his hands together, “knocking him flat out cold!  So we’re all busy trying to drag his carcass outta there before we get screwed, only someone trips over one of our lanterns and just ‘whoosh,’ a pile of hay just engulfs itself in flame.  His whole barn nearly goes up ‘cause of this shit.” Lum nearly fell over laughing; Zyn too as he got caught up in the chaos of the events.  “So,” the sailor tried to regain his composure, “The farmer got distracted by the fire long so that we nabbed Murdock and the bucket of milk out, and Dorlan’s all exhausted, we’re all fritzed and just plain tuckered out from the getaway.  Then Dorlan starts trying to act like the conquering hero, acting all big and bold,” Lum imitated an overconfident strutting voice, “that he’s gonna just take a little sip of his hard won prize.  So he takes the bucket, leans it back to take a sip, and the next moment he just spits the it out like poison and the whole bucket gets flung wide and we all get drenched.  He’s all choking and coughing and we’re all shaking ourselves off, when we realize that that stuff didn’t smell at all like milk  Turns out the ‘cow’ he tried to milk wasn’t a proper ‘cow.’”  Zyn practically fell on his back collapsing in hysterical laughter.  “So,” Lum coughed as he tried to stop laughing, “The rest of us just get [i]pissed[/i] so we beat him and go tell him off to the farmer; Dorlan of course rats on us while we’re at it, so we all get punished for weeks helping this guy out on his farm; meanwhile Dorlan’s girl just up and loses interest and fall for this other kind who was this huge rival of his,” Lorian continued laughing as he stared off into space.  “Ah, those were the good old days.”    Perhaps it had been because he hadn’t dwelled on the past in a long while, or maybe it was because of the stress of this island and what awaited them in the near future.  Whatever the case, the story had just rolled off the sailor’s tongue, and Zyn had been quite caught up with it.  “That’s the problem with the good old days,” Zyn said, “Always were and aren’t any more.”  Truth be told though, it was more something he had an only a superficial belief in than anything deep.  Few were the attachments to his past that he looked on with melancholy.  “Ain’t that the truth,” Lum agreed.  “Sure with I could have those days again.”  “Why couldn’t you sometime?  Once we get off this island why not pop back at home and rouse some more chaos?”  “Don’t I wish...” Lum whispered almost to himself.  Sensing something more, Zyn pressed on.  “Something wrong?”  “No; nothing, just... those days were a long time ago; a lot of people who were there aren’t anymore.”  He sighed.  “That’s all in the past though.  Now,” he added with a smile returning, “[i]Now[/i] I’ve got two little bundles of joy and a wife waiting back home for me.”  “How old?”  “Oh, not very big at all, the oldest, little Lum Jr. he’s only yay high,” he held out his hand to about three feet.  “Got my mischievous side, much to the missus’s chagrin,’ he said with a wry smile.  “Then there’s little Deloris.  She’s new to the world, not even a year old yet.”  “Just two for now?” Zyn asked, “Or are you planning on more?”  “Wish we could; Deloris tore up my wife a bit at birth, almost lost her.  We... had kids before Junior, but... they didn’t survive their first year.  Zyn fixed his gaze on the rocks at his feet uncomfortably.  “I’m sorry.”  Lum didn’t respond right away, just letting the fire crackle and burn in front of them.  “Anyways, little Deloris, she’s got her first birthday in a month.  Course, I’ve been at sea so long I’ve never even actually seen her.  Just a letter or two from my wife is all the news of her I got.”  He shuffled about and lay on his back.  “I wanna get back there, just to be there in time for her birthday.  She... she deserves that at least.”  Rather than say anything, Zyn kept his mouth shut, if for no other reason than he couldn’t think of anything [i]to[/i] say.  Afterwards Grumiah came along and suggested everyone get to sleep, to save their strength for whatever was to come for the next day.  Zyn moped off, feeling quite fatigued himself and tried his best to sleep once again on sand and palm leaves.  His mind was restless, however, so he couldn’t fall asleep right away.  Just before he dozed off though, but after the others had zoinked out and the fire reduced to smoldering embers, with even Xayk having flown up to his Cliffside cave (presumably to sleep, although come to think of it Zyn had yet to see the dragon sleeping even once), an old familiar acquaintance paid him a visit.  In retrospect, it was long overdue, but its abnormally long absence only made Zyn more unprepared for it.  An iron tightness gripped his chest, causing his diaphragm to squeeze and ache every time it moved.  Leaves crumpled in his strangling grip as he tried to work through the crushing clenching, commanding himself to breathe slowly and deliberately.  Almost ritualistically he fell into a breathing routine, doing his best to ignore the pressing, searing pressure against his sides.  It was perhaps a good ten minutes before it subsided, though it had not disappeared altogether.  No matter, it was tolerable enough that he could sleep on it.  Casting his eyes around, Zyn saw no one else had been awakened by his episode.  [i]Just as well[/i], he thought, closing his eyes and doing his best to fall asleep, which he did in short order. * * *  There was never any indication as to why it was here, though one may as well have asked why the sun shone bright and the sky was blue.  That knife... that darkness... the whole setting was just always here, always waiting.   Was it waiting for him?  Perhaps, perhaps not.  In any case there was more waiting for him this time than a bladed weapon and a wall of black.  For the first time there was something... other.  A streaming veil of color flowed like so many rivers, curling and gushing forth with raw, primordial force that stripped all comparisons that could be made of it.  It was a prism, a kaleidoscope through which bountiful energies flowed and frothed, something that was no mere magic or trickery.  It was as if he were glimpsing some fundamental aspect of the universe through which all existed.  The there was the dragon.  In stark contrast to the every other repetition of this dream, in addition to the streaming flows there was Xayk.  This was not a Xayk he was familiar with, however.  Or more accurately, this was a Xayk had had only glimpsed in fleeting images and faint glints of the eye.  Not even on the storming mesa had his eyes gazed upon the apparition that stood before him now.  That one had been dark and obscure; this time the dragon’s eyes shown, white-hot, a radiating, piercing orange hotter than a deadric furnace, broadcasting cunning twisted intent with the terrifying intelligence to back it up.  The beast’s serpentine form coiled around itself, its dark scales glistening like that of snake, sending no end of shivers down Zyn’s spine.  It was as if evil and wisdom had spawned a child together, and the dragon’s gaze tore Zyn apart, dissecting him at will.  And worse was the smile, a broad line twisted in a feral, wild, but at the same time purposeful grin.  And yet...  There was something else.  Within those orange, glowing eyes, and that crooked smile, the dragon had... feeling.  Zyn swore that the dragon had a strange empathy in that face, though strangely it did not seem to be in spite of the malice.  It was almost as if...  The beast’s... no, the [i]being’s[/i] eyes shifted, turning to the knife and the darkness that lay before the human, ever demanding his choice.  The dragon turned his eyes back to him and smiled, a knowing smile that was unlike any he had ever seen before.  Still, though, no words were exchanged, the dragon just stood there, waiting.  Waiting for a choice. !DSPAM:4af0db4d226991804284693! </body> </html>