To Free Ghilan'nain Category: Stories
Current mood:
accomplished
Disclaimer : This is a short story involving one of the brief encounters that Dirthamen (Elvhen God of Knowledge; Keeper of Secrets) has with Ghilan’nain (Elvhen Goddess; Mother of Halla) and tries to bring Falon’Din (Elvhen God of Death and Fortune) to his knees. Elgar’nan (The All-Father; Elvhen God of Vengeance) is there to aid Falon’Din and put an end to the fighting. When Fen’Harel (Elvhen God of Rebellion; Betrayal), makes his appearance what scale in the balance of power begin to tilt? And at what cost will Ghilan'nain be free?
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Open my chest and colour my spine I'm giving you all I'm giving you all Swallow my breath And take what is mine I'm giving you all I'm giving you all
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Walking down the dark cells to one of the many castles that Felon’Din possesses, the tall and dark haired Elvhen God walked. His boots covered only the top half of his feet while the bottoms were opened to feel the magic that still filled the world in an abundance. He strode tall in the signature armor of onyx, obsidian and crimson. It was far different than the traditional golden Sentinel armor that any agent of Mythal wore. However, he was not an agent of anyone but himself. --And here, he was trespassing.
He was searching for Ghilan’nain, the mortal-made Goddess and ex-lover of Andruil… Or perhaps she still claimed herself to have been attached? Dirthamen was uncertain for he never had much of a chance to keep up with the scandalous affairs among the Pantheon. He knew about Felon’Din wishing to impress Mythal with his might, and when she didn’t show him favor he turned his greed onto her own lands. The attempt was made so that Mythal would concede to her “son,” but Mythal was loyal to Elgar’nan The All-Father. Dirthamen knew of all this because he was under the pressure and responsibilities of keeping the scandal a secret. On more than one occasion, Dirthamen has had to live a lie to spare his brother from being caught in his pining for their All-Mother. Now, Dirthamen was here to push his own twin to a heel so that Falon’Din would finally leave Mythal alone.
However, he came for Ghilan’nain because Dirthamen did not believe that she deserves her current punishment.
She was once a mortal, who fell in love with the Goddess whom she served. Appealing to Andruil gained her rights to “god-hood”, and that was against the wishes of the All-Father. So, now, after Andruil’s punishment was to have been driven mad and to have her precious memories and love taken away from her. Mythal had been tasked to do this on Elgar’nan’s behalf; which she did bitterly but showed no remorse to anyone. Meanwhile, Ghilan’nain was thrown into the dungeons that belonged to the Elvhen God of Death, Felon’Din.
Rescuing her would be Dirthamen’s boon; which came as a surprise to him. Dirthamen would have reluctantly went to war with his own brother anyway; out of respect for their All-Mother Mythal. Now, he had an even greater concern and it lead him to search a dungeon that showed false cells and false walls. All he had to rely on to find her was a ring that was once given to her true love. It was a woman’s ring and Dirthamen certainly was not one meant to wear it. The feeling of the band around his right pinky finger felt tight and overbearing. It hummed and buzzed a tone from blended musical notes into his ears with each step. The closer he came to Ghilan’nain, the louder that it seemed to have gotten.
He stared at the ring as he walked. His silver eyes glanced cautiously from the ruby gem of the bloodstone and then back to the false walls. Finally, it felt that the ring had reached its plateau of its calling at the sight of a brick wall to his left. He turned to look at it and studied the wall closely. Dirthamen stared at the wall to find the seams of the wall to determine if it was really just a wall, or perhaps an illusion, or a barrier of some sort. He knew at least Ghilan’nain would have been behind it -- if he could figure out a way to break through it to reach her.
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I'll be the blood If you'll be the bones I'm giving you all I'm giving you all So lift up my body And lose all control I'm giving you all I'm giving you all
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There was no light in the cell that Ghilan’nain was trapped in. There was no windows or doors. It was just a box of a room--or so it seemed--carved in clumps of stone and reeking of condensation and biohazard wastes. The darkness and silence by themselves would have been enough to slowly slip anyone into madness but there had been things done far worse to her.
Stripped naked of clothes and armor, Ghilan’nain was chained down to the floor. The shackles on her ankles, wrists and neck were made of nullification metal to remove her from any magic abilities. Shards of hardened forms of pure lyrium protruded out of her legs and knees which also rooted her to the floor. The permanent position kept her cemented in a black sludge pool of her own urine. The lyrium had been an extra torture method; used as a drug to keep Ghilan’nain in a ‘magical high’ with no outlet able to find a release of its affects. What pleasure it did create drowned itself into an immense pain instead, like a million hot needles filled with a substance to burn her from the inside. Her hair was matted with clumps of filth and tangled into its strands.
She was malnourished and her bones were turning brittle; surrendering her physical form slowly more in favor to the lyrium crystals that planted her forcefully to the ground. No living being was meant to take on the shapes of non-living matter, but the lyrium breathed life and pulsed with magic. It was a close exception to the rule, but not entirely. Eventually, if fate willed it, Ghilan’nain would have been swallowed whole by it and turned into a large shard of hardened lyrium. Elvhen writing had been carved all over and into her pale skin.
Words like “Heretic,” “False,” Sinner,” “Liar”, “Scarlet” and even “Nullifidian” stained her in heavy scars.
For who was she, a born mortal, to indulge her physical love with an immortal Goddess? Her profound indecency to covet the very religious figure whom she worshiped was as appalling as it was abhorrent. For shame on all those who served Ghilan’nain as a risen Goddess out of nothing! For shame on her parents to have birthed her and upon any blood related to her! For shame on any who would present themselves as a friend of any kind to her! But she could not help who she loved...
Alone, she was crying and praying to an Elvhen Goddess who could not hear her.
Looking up, she felt eyes watching her -- or maybe trying to. There, she saw him. A member of the Pantheon, a God in every right that her people knew, and it was He who came to her. Not her beloved Andruil. All the same, she tried in desperation to stretch her arm out to him. To plead cautiously. She was not certain if it was too much to hope she could have been saved by someone, if not her lover.
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You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it She wants it
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Dirthamen slammed his fist against the brick wall to test its density. His knuckles started to bleed from the abrasive contact. Gravel scraped into his skin as he pulled back his arm and swung again. He took notice that there had been no chips coming from the wall. At this point, he didn’t need anymore answers. The ring gave away the location of Ghilan’nain. Dirthamen could also hear her cries.
The obsidian finger-guards he wore turned to a single point of the brick wall and began to glow in a bright neon green color. His eyes narrowed in concentration to break his brother’s barrier; piercing it past the seams of magic. He pushed harder, dug deeper, and clawed his way past a tiny hole to pull, rip, and split apart. His arms were shaking as the sound magic crackled and popped against his ears.
But he could see past the barrier at last! His arms felt like they may have fallen off from forcing so much energy apart, but it was well worth it.
From the other side, Ghilan’nain looked onward and stared at the tall elf in front of her. He was ripping apart the barrier between his sheer will and physical force -- which had only been someone equal in power to Falon'Din to have done. She saw this and her eyes widened into a complete horror. Because Falon'Din and Dirthamen carried the same face. They were twins, after all. So, it was more than a natural reaction out of her to have cringed and trembled before the obviously more powerful being.
She knew her place well as a mortal -- or rather, an immortal who gained immortality through impure means. She was undeserving and for that could only face the wrath of those who would punish her for it.
However, Dirthamen had not proceeded much further, for the next obstacle that greeted him were iron bars. They would not have been much of a challenge to him, but it was the sight of how Ghilan’nain looked at him. She was the frightened golden halla of legend, now looking at him as if he had drawn a bowstring tight. It was as if she feared him to have aimed between those doe-like eyes. He knew the look of fear when he saw it and such a gaze was enough for Dirthamen to pause.
“Ghilan’nain…” He started to speak; uncertain if he should have began with any reassurance or to give a full fledged apology on his bretheren’s behalf. She would have been deserving of both.
Dirthamen lowered his hands once the barrier had fallen away and disappeared. He reached up in moments later to trace his hands across the iron bars in a test to see there was another barrier, but his hands hadn’t met any such similar obstacle. He would have proceeded to cut through the bars, but the sound of footsteps caused him to freeze in his actions. Dirthamen turned slightly and looked over his shoulder to see who was coming. He knew he would face the opposition sooner or later.
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And I run from wolves, ooh Breathing heavily At my feet And I run from wolves, ooh Tearing into me Without teeth
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Dirthamen saw the Sentinels of Falon’Din rushing down the stairs to see who the intruder to their Lord-and-God’s temple was. Hearty elven men dressed in the silver and purple shades of scaled armor were armed with staffs, warhammers, daggers, swords and bows. He gritted his teeth to the sight of them. Of course they wouldn’t fear him, for he was in his brother’s lair and thus lead them to believe that Falon’Din extended his reach to their full protection. Dirthamen would have to prove that this was not so.
The doors opening to the dungeon were nearly kicked down from the force that followed. Powerful arcane blasts and golden enchanted arrows were being hurled in Dirthamen’s direction, only to have been met by a barrier that he had placed soon upon himself. The long-raged attacks, he managed to deflect with ease. However, such shields did have a time limit to them and he needed to act fast. So, his wrists and hands lit up once more with the green aura to pull from it similar powers of the arcane arts. Fire pulled from his hands to burn the mages and bowmen alive; which came surprisingly easy.
The Sentinels with swords, daggers and warhammers charged at him next. Dirthamen’s right hand changed its color into a bright golden glow. It took the shape of a long spear of pure magical energy and the Godlike being used this as his weapon. He rammed the end’s tip into the first Sentinel to have reached him. Turning it upwards in his hands with both hands, Dirthamen sent the fresh body over his own in an aerial sweep that protected him from the next Sentinal with daggers. He jerked the weapon back to free itself from its first death. In a helicopter sweep over his head next and then across his body to fold and spin as he moved, Dirthamen was knocking back slicing into the soldiers that moved too close.
Once the Sentinels had all eventually fallen from combat, Dirthamen turned his weapon towards the iron bars next. He brought its bladed tip outward and sliced into the metal. He cut a line straight through it easily and dispersed the golden spear of magic away from his grasp. Raising up one leg, he then kicked the bars with a spell of force and his sheer will to cause them to fold downward. Stepping onto the bars and cautiously walking inside, Dirthamen looked down to see in his dismay at how Ghilan’nain cowardly shook beneath his march inside.
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I can see through you We are the same It's perfectly strange You run in my veins How can I keep you Inside my lungs I breathe what is yours You breathe what is mine
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Dirthamen frowned at the sight of her body carrying as many brands and carvings that covered her skin. Ghilan’nain couldn’t even move. She was pinned to the floor. Her fear shook at the very sight of him and she closed her eyes as though she was preparing herself for some painful contact. It was an acknowledgement and a warning to Dirthamen, that should he have ever loved to share his power in a similar way that Andruil had done for Ghilan’nain, then whoever he loved would have been given a similar treatment and he would have his own memories taken away as well. Such a frightening path was revealed before him then.
“Please… Forgive me, Falon’Din. Please--” Ghilan’nain muttered in between sobs.
In a glance downward, Dirthamen realized that his brother must have revealed his face behind his mask to her. It explained why she was so afraid of Him now. So, he spoke in a quiet hush to soothe her. His left hand extended towards her in a small hover but without contact. As the bright green glow moved its ambience over her scarred skin, it began to heal its wounds. As he moved it, starting from the top of her head as though to grant a symbol of a blessing and glided his hand down along the rest of her body to her feet.
The aura was healing and removing not just the scars, bruises, words and burns -- but also the chains and the lyrium that kept her trapped into the filthy floor.
Ghilan’nain gasped at the sore stretch of her legs. She moved them to find feeling returning to them. The first shudders were always painful but the sensation was awakening and welcomed. She started to scoot back just as Dirthamen’s hands returned back to his sides and the glow upon them began to dim away.
“I am not my brother, Ghilan’nain.” Dirthamen informed her.
He reached to his collar to unlock the royal broach from around his neck. In large waves, his black cloak fell from his shoulders and gathered to his right forearm. Immediately, Ghilan’nain started to recoil. She started to crawl away in fear but Dirthamen lunged forward to take her shoulders. He leveled himself down to her almost in a kneel and a desperate grasp at her attention with clarity.
“The lyrium is still pulsing strong through you--Ghilan’nain.” He paused tilted her chin to look back up at him once she turned away. “--Goddess of Creation and Guide to the Lost. See me for who I am. Know me. For, I am not your enemy.”
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You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it He wants it
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Ghilan’nain winced and attempted to look away -- a small defiance she could muster after being weakened so much. His words were muffled to her mind; as though she were listening to him through the heavy turbulence of a hurricane. She winced and came close to screaming from the toxic high that coursed its side effects through her, but the feeling of cold steel and warm flesh covered over her lips to keep the noise from echoing too loudly around them.
Her eyes widened then to focus past her haze to see more clearly. The person in front of her did not share the twisted malice as Falon’Din even though he carried the same face as him. His hand was pressed over her mouth and she felt her urgency and fright to slowly fizz away. He didn’t appear ready to harm her; in fact so far he had only been there to heal her. Maybe even help, after all.
‘See me for who I am.’ -- He said moments ago and then Ghilan’nain narrowed her eyes in concentration until she realized a basic truth. Dirthamen and Falon’Din were twins; so of course it was likely they would share the same face.
Reaching up in her shaking state, Ghilan’nain took a hold of his hand and removed it slowly from her mouth. Taking in a breath, she dared whispered a name she’d never imagined to have come for her.
“Dirthamen?”
“Yes…” Dirthamen smiled a little in some small relief. Quickly, he turned the cloak from his forearm in a flare to wrap around Ghilan’nain’s body. He wrapped her secure and lifted her into his arms to carry her out.
“Where is Andruil?” She immediately asked and turned her tight clutches towards his armor.
Dirthamen took in a breath as he carried her out of the cell. He was about to answer her when shouts from further in the castle caught his attention. He turned with clenched teeth in the direction that his ears burned with sound.
“Another matter for another time.” He buffed away the question and turned towards opposite brick wall to run towards.
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And I run from wolves, ooh Breathing heavily At my feet And I run from wolves, ooh Tearing into me Without teeth
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The wall from outside exploded with a blast of energy that turned its opposition into a black smoke and dust. Dirthamen leaped out of the wall and fell from its high position as a tower. Ghilan’nain clutched onto his armor tightly and looked up towards the sky to see its bright emerald glow. Mountains were floating in the sky and twisting in a continued levitated turbulence. She felt something approaching them close from below, and turned just in time to see a boulder racing towards them.
Ghilan’nan screamed but couldn’t close her eyes to the fear of possible death. She was uncertain if she could even die but old habits in fear were difficult to forget. Luckily, instead of their bodies both landing in a crimson smear to its surface, the massive boulder impacted against Dirthamen’s barrier instead. The solid matter -- in response-- had split into two large pieces; of which they continued to bypass and land to the ground at the edge of a cliff.
Ghilan’nain breathed unsteadily while looking further below to two armies locked in a bloody battle. She saw elves killing each other and praising their glory to the Elvhen Gods that they served -- be it for either Falon’Din or Dirthamen. Clearly enough it was a Holy War being started, and all it really had done, was create a distraction just so that Dirthamen could free Ghilan’nain from the clutches of his vicious twin brother.
“So much blood…” Ghilan’nain frowned and looked back to Dirthamen in her increasing plead. “You have to stop this. Its a pointless slaughter.”
“Pointless?” Dirthamen looked at her in shock and quickly sneered with a shake of his head. “They are not your people! They would have you destroyed!”
He took her towards one of his large ravens. The bird named Fear had already grown to the incredible size. It was as large as a wild griffon but far more tame. Fear ducked his head down in a favorable bow while Dirthamen hurried to mount Ghilan’nain upon his back. This would have been the safest method of escaping Falon’Din’s castle because the enemy would have been hunting for a massive bear. Not large birds; which almost would have seemed to be a complementary symbol to this place.
“Have enough people not died? My namesake cannot carry the blood--” Ghilan’nain begged as Dirthamen placed her onto Fear’s back. “Dirthamen--!”
If only it had just been her namesake that would have been his motivations. However, there were things far more deep that pushed him to save her. So, Dirthamen promptly ignored her and smacked Fear’s backside in a motivation for him to spread his large wings to take flight. Fear leaped into the air to take flight.
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And you can follow You can follow me You can follow You can follow me
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Falon’Din flew over his castle in the form of a grey spotted owl. The roaring of the Dragon Elgar’nan echoing behind him called out in a ravenous rage. However, it wasn’t the All-Father that Dirthamen was even immediately concerned with. It was Falon’Din. Dirthamen saw the Elvhen God in his animal form of the Owl. Falon’Din was racing to take down Fear just so that he could catch Ghilan’nain once more.
Dirthamen gritted his teeth and ran to his second massive raven named Deceit. He climbed aboard and kicked his heels to her sides in the signal for her to hurry. The raven spread her wings and kicked herself off from the ledge. They soon gave chase in a race to reach Falon’Din and Fear.
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You hover like a hummingbird Haunt me in my sleep You're sailing from another world Sinking in my sea, oh You're feeding on my energy I'm letting go of it She wants it
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Flying above the gigantic owl, Deceit unleashed her talons to dig into the Elvhen God’s shoulders. The Owl squawked in his anger while claws dug and tore at feathers and flesh. The two large birds pulled back in flight to have continued into their fight; for Falon’Din was not going to allow his form to be torn to shreds. He took a dive downward and Deceit dove after him. Meanwhile, Fear continued to fly onward to carry Ghilan’nain to safety. She called to Dirthamen, but her voice had been drowned out from the screeching of birds, and the Holy Dragon-like Elvhen God who was fighting amongst the clashing of two Holy Armies at His feet. Elgar’nan roared his impatience. He breathed his dragonfire to melt the armor of the elves, making it seep to their skin in a state of torture to their deaths. He clawed deep into the ground as he demanded a sense of order but the numbers of Sentinels were still too large and so death would be their only other option if the fighting did not stop.
“No, Dirthamen!” She called to him as she was carried off. “Do not fight with your brother!”
Deceit managed to dive faster underneath Falon’Din. Her talons stretched for more blood once Dirthamen pulled at her feathers around her neck. This had given her the signal turn onto her back and latch onto Falon’Din’s talons; which turned into a tight match of clutching together, twisting in barrel rolls in the air, biting and clawing on another. More blood was torn from them and it rained down upon their soldiers in a crimson storm.
Back up, they began to fly. Their path headed towards the bright green center of the emerald sky. Dirthamen held on tightly until he couldn’t see anymore from the brightness they were headed into. He crawled and clawed his way around Deceit’s thick feathered neck.
“Deceit! Release him!” Dirthamen ordered to his pet just before taking the dangerous leap onto Falon’Din instead.
Deceit obeyed; twisting and turning her body in a false dive. She used that momentum of gravity to create more distance from herself and Falon’Din as she flew farther away. In turn, who caught her tail instead was Elgar’nan instead.
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And I run from wolves, ooh Breathing heavily At my feet And I run from wolves, ooh Tearing into me Without teeth
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Meanwhile, Fear had flown Ghilan’nain back to safety to the other side of the floating mountains. He flew her to a handful of Sentinels dressed in the golden armor that marked them as agents to either Mythal or Fen’Harel. She couldn’t remember which or if there had been much of a difference between them in regular service. She just knew that Mythal and Fen’Harel were still at a relative peace. Even so, she was still uncertain to slide away from the raven, Fear, once he landed.
Then she looked up to see the tall Elvhen God, standing amongst his Sentinels and yet still relaxed despite the fighting that was at a questionable distance away from them. He wore a wolf’s top jaw as a form of a decorative helmet of sorts. The leather straps it had been used to keep it in place was lost among the thick shaved and twisted strands of the proud Elvhen God’s dark brown dreadlocks. It was enough to make her shudder because she had never stood in his presence before --but it was certainly him.
The Dread Wolf.
“Th--The fighting--” Ghilan’nain trembled in her words before glancing back to see Falon’Din taking a plummet to the ground while Fear was being chased by the dragon. She turned then back to the Dread Wolf. “Fen’Harel-- You must stop this--!”
“Calm yourself.” Fen’Harel directed her with an outstretched hand.
The bright green coating of his magic caused Ghilan’nain to gasp; uncertain of what was to come. She closed her eyes as her body began to glow in a bright light in response. Ghilan'nain felt herself changing slowly. Her body regained a form she was once given from Andruil. Her stiff feet and hands turned more into hooves and her back was gradually folded downward without a struggle. The familiarity of it almost calmed her, (which was partially the intention of the spell) were it not for the worry of the fighting and the guilt of her almost unwilling escape. The Dread Wolf had turned Ghilan’nain into a large Golden Halla. It was the animal symbol that Andruil had blessed her with back when she shared her love openly with Ghilan’nain.
She was a beautiful animal, for the halla were deer-like creatures with mighty long horns of ivory. Their fur was commonly white, but the golden halla was one created by an Elvhen God, and it came from the natural beauty of Ghilan’nain’s own hair.
Ghilan’nain opened her blue eyes and flexed her ears back in sadness while Fen’Harel turned his fingerless-gloved hand to place onto her long forehead. He petted her; in a sense, and turned his hand then to rub underneath her newly shapened chin.
“The abuses you have endured shall continue no further, Ghilan’nain. You will be free.” Fen’Harel promised her.
However, it wasn’t freedom that she wanted. She wanted Andruil, her lover. She wanted Andruil’s memories of them being together to have been returned. She didn’t want to have been taken to some deserted land to wander aimlessly. She didn’t want to start over under a new rule or to disappear from the Pantheon, for that would have felt too close to being exiled! Freedom was not worth the cost to her. What Fen’Harel offered was not necessary and not wanted at this given time. What Ghilan’nain wanted was for the fighting under her namesake to stop -- as well as any fighting that would have involved her personally. She didn’t want to be a Goddess if it meant so many people would die because of her.
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And you can follow You can follow me You can follow You can follow me
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Rejecting this offer, Ghilan’nain turned away and bleated the animal noise that halla make when they were desperate for communication. She tried to call to Dirthamen, but it was no use. It was a sealed fate of silence when rope made of veilfire lashed around her elongated snout and jaws. Like a domesticated horse of some kind, she was muzzled and the force of the pull attempted to drag her backwards.
“You would defy the Will of Dirthamen? Disgrace his sacrifice?” Fen’Harel warned her in a bolstered scowl. He handled her like a beast to wrestle for dominance; which had not taken long to have Ghilan’nain fold at his feet. So, he guided her to walk with him. “If Elgar’nan or Falon’Din see you right now, I cannot protect you. Then all that Dirthamen had done will be for nothing! Do you want that?”
She didn’t. Then again, she didn’t want to have been saved if it required so many lives to have been lost. She didn’t want Dirthamen to carry the stain of freeing her. She knew he would be exiled from the Pantheon possibly, or tortured, …..or maybe even killed for this strike of treason. Ghilan’nain didn’t want any of that. However, She didn’t want to have been locked in a cell for all eternity either. There were so many things being done -- forced upon her -- that she did not want.
The struggle within her eventually had ended but Ghilan’nain still cried as Fen’Harel guided her away with him to leave the battlefield.
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You can follow You can follow me You can follow You can follow me
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Dirthamen had his spear of magical energy pulsing through his fingers and clutching tightly into his right hand. His left hand still had an unrelenting grasp of goosed flesh past the feathers of Falon’Din’s skin. The turn of the mighty owl’s head saw at last the one still riding on top of him. The God of Death had almost adjusted his flight by then but his right eye met with the pointed tip of Dirthamen’s grand spear of magic.
Falon’Din screeched his feeling of pain and betrayal as he learned in those split seconds that it was his own brother to blind him. Then his body crashed against one of the floating mountains; turning him and causing his massive body to tumble out of control. He came crashing down towards the ground and having his body knocked against other mountains to turn him as he sank like a stone. His wings broke from some of the crashes. His body bled from the sharp and jagged edges of the mountains.
Dirthamen dispersed his magic to hold on and pull himself up and along Falon’Din’s body each time the owl had turned; until he simply couldn’t move anymore. Time was his enemy and it met its end when Falon’Din crashed down into the ground at last. The land shook with a groan as the dust settled around the continued battle of the elves. Even with an Elvhen God reaching His demise, it seemed that there was an example needed to have been shown.
So, changing his form, Dirthamen grew to the enormous size of a mighty black bear. He stood as tall as the mountains around them. Any smaller elf that dared to charge in his direction to attack, Dirthamen could have knocked them several miles away with a simple flick of his paw. He roared at the soldiers under his brother’s command to strike terror to them while Falon’Din clawed into Dirthamen’s legs in a defensive position to stand. However, the Spotted Owl’s wings were broken and the Black Bear would have none of it. His snout lowered and jaws opened to bite down on the Owl’s large wings.
He was going to rip them off.
Then a massive dragon’s claw seemed to have came out of nowhere and knocked Dirthamen onto his back. Fear and Deceit had fallen in battle at last. The bear rolled quickly over and looked in a wide wonder to find that Elgar’nan had finally turned his fury and attention onto him. A quick glance to Falon’Din; who remained out of commission, then to the mountains -- where Fen’Harel was ‘supposed’ to have charged with the next attack -- and then back to the All-Father in all His scaled terror and glory. Elgar’nan was certainly not happy with this ‘family fighting’ and Fen’Harel seemed to have been nowhere in sight to give Dirthamen his needed support.
No. Dirthamen was on his own. He would lose, but he was not going to be seen kneeling into submission, even if it was before Elgar’nan. Gods never fell gracefully...
accomplished