Chronicles of Draezoln

Tales of the world of Draezoln

Chapter 7-1

Chapter 7: Urgency

“Hate Javni’Tolkhrah? Not really. More like… having t’ kill a mad dog, t’ use something city-types say. Something that has t’ be done. Th’ one I hate’s Jivenesh.”

In spite of Garkhen’s weight slowing him, Zakhin’Dakh caught up to Almonihah before he reached the Madlands. It wasn’t hard to see why—the half-dragon was on foot again, having utterly exhausted his ill-exercised wing muscles. Feeling rather light-headed and weary himself, Zakhin’Dakh angled down to meet him.

Almonihah whirled, tensing as he heard wings behind him, but relaxed as he saw Zakhin’Dakh. Then his face grew grim as he saw Garkhen.

“Th’ Rangers?” He asked as Zakhin’Dakh set Garkhen down.

Zakhin’Dakh screeched sadly, then added, Some come still.

Almonihah looked over the big griffon and the other half-dragon. They looked pretty chewed up… of course, he wasn’t looking so hot himself. But some of those cuts on Zakhin’Dakh looked pretty bad, and he seemed a bit unsteady on his feet.

Almonihah reached into a pouch on his belt, only to curse softly as he felt dampness. Somewhere in there he’d landed on his potions! Well, he could do a little something… calling up some old memories, he lifted the unicorn symbol he still wore around his neck and chanted the only spell-prayer of healing he’d ever learned. It was a weak one, but it still made Almonihah stumble a bit from exhaustion. But at least Zakhin’Dakh was looking a little better.

Garkhen… well, he was just out cold. He’d probably got banged around enough in that armor to knock him out without killing him, Almonihah thought. Whatever the case, though…

Something in him whispered to just leave him. Irritated, Almonihah quashed the thought. Yeah, he was half-blue dragon, but… well, he couldn’t pretend he was a bad person after getting to know him. Certainly not the kind of person you’d leave to the Javni’Tolkhrah. But they needed to move fast, and even Almonihah wasn’t strong enough to move the Warder himself.

He looked around, trying to compare Zakhin’Dakh’s shoulder height to some nearby rocks. One looked about right.

“Think you can put th’ blue up there?” Almonihah asked, pointing at the spot.

Okay… Zakhin’Dakh replied uncertainly. Carefully he picked the unconscious half-dragon back up and gently placed him on top of the rock.

“Now stand next t’ it,” Almonihah instructed as he climbed up on top of the rock himself.

Zakhin’Dakh came over and stood nearby, looking confused. Almonihah waved him closer.

“Touching it. Going t’ try rolling him ‘nd strapping him in.”

With a low screech of understanding, Zakhin’Dakh scooted over, touching his shoulder to the stone. Once he was in place, Almonihah got as much leverage as he could and literally rolled Garkhen over. It made a horrible racket, and even with leverage it was hard to move Garkhen (how much did that armor weigh!?), but somehow, he managed to get the Warder on Zakhin’Dakh’s back. With several minutes more of work he had arranged Garkhen in Zakhin’Dakh’s saddle, strapping him in well enough that he probably wouldn’t fall out.

“Let’s go, Zakhin’Dakh,” Almonihah said at last, dropping to the ground and walking southwards. The big griffon screeched in agreement and followed. 


Zakhin’Dakh’s saddle has straps so that a rider who can’t fly is less likely to fall to their death. Because that would be unpleasant. 

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