#sovari

Cautiously, the imperial began to pick their way down the ridge, into the valley.

*

Shade, Shade, Shade.

Aridatha dashed through the lair, watching in horror as flares of that awful light went off in the trees, crackled across the canopy above and coursed through the ground below. She’d managed to meet up with -- or spontaneous run into -- some clan members, though she didn’t really have any more to tell them than to run, something they really ought to be able to figure out for themselves. Geras she’d sent to try and salvage the familiars, in the hopes that her established duty to the beasts might help overcome her grief. The guardian had gone off in the right direction, at least, and nodded, but Aridatha had no idea whether she would actually do it. She couldn’t worry about that now.

There were no eggs in the hatchery; Aridatha thanked the Arcanist for that, for one less fear on her plate. She’d also been lucky enough to encounter Lioska fairly quickly. The wildclaw had immediately grasped the idea of emergency and contagion, even if there hadn’t been time to give her all the details, and run off. Aridatha wasn’t completely sure what Lioska actually planned to do about the emergency and contagion, but Lioska had a level head and some good military training: Aridatha trusted her to think of something helpful.

The rest of the clan, however …

As Aridatha clambered up into Isildur’s chamber, she saw Rakgi diving in the pond, the glow spreading under his skin telling her that it was too late to warn him. In the distance, the same light forked through the veins of a large, dark wing, though it vanished between the trees too quickly for Aridatha to tell whose. Don’t let it be Geras -- don’t let us lose Geras because I told her to go after the beasts instead of fleeing. Peeking out from her own room, Zura made rather frightened inquiring noises at Aridatha, but there was no time to find the coatl a translator: Aridatha just gestured at her to run, and she seemed to get the message, jumping down and scurrying away on her tiny legs.

“Aridatha? I would most appreciate being informed as to what is happening.”

Aridatha barely restrained herself from a curt response: now was not the time for Isildur’s customary wordiness. Instead, she said, “There’s some kind of … disease, or contagious magic, spreading through the clan. It affects dragons and inanimate objects, and it … it’s deadly, we think.”

Clever as always, Isildur grasped the situation quickly. “You want me to move the hoard to safety?”

“Not the whole hoard.” That would be an impossible task: it had taken the clan’s largest and strongest members dozens of trips to bring all the accumulated products of all their labor over the mountains to the new lair. “Just grab the currency, the valuables. Don’t worry about the familiars; Geras is on it. And, Isildur? Don’t martyr yourself. Get out quickly, and don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Isildur snorted delicately. “Trust me, Aridatha, I have no intention of dying for a handful of trinkets.”

“Good. Anyone else you run into, tell them to run. Doesn’t matter where, just get away from the lair.”

A frown. “You don’t want to set a rendezvous point for afterwards? Sounds like a recipe for chaos.”

Aridatha shook her head. “The infected dragons, they’re … they’re lucid, but something’s wrong with them. I think they might be deliberately spreading … whatever it is. So I don’t want to give them a target.”

“Very well.” With uncharacteristic brevity, Isildur departed, leaving Aridatha to a moment’s quiet.

What now? Aridatha had initially planned to go to Cypress and Illyan, to seek the journalists’ help in spreading word of the disaster, but she doubted anyone remained unaware now -- sending those two back into the lair would risk their lives needlessly. Of course, knowing Cypress, he might have gone in anyway, just to investigate … Was it time for Aridatha herself to run? A captain goes down with her ship … But she was not going to die here. The metaphorical ship meant less than its crew, and they would need her in the days to come. Assuming, of course, that she could do any better as a leader in the future -- she hadn’t exactly prepared for this …

Pushing the thought away -- you can wallow in your own inadequacy when there’s no immediate danger -- Aridatha decided that as long as she was here, she might at least try to warn the rest of the building. She’d already seen on her way up that Moros’ ground-floor chamber was empty, but the sound-mages Arven and Halamshiral lived above Isildur. They were, in fact, her parents, though none of them really found that particularly significant -- as evinced by the fact that Isildur had felt no need to ensure their safety. Aridatha scrambled up the trunk of the structure’s central tree.

Arven stood in the center of the room, watching his delicate harps and flutes vibrate on the walls. He turned to Aridatha as she entered. “What is all this commotion? I was trying to work.”

“You need to get out of here,” Aridatha said shortly. “There’s a magical plague spreading across the lair. Take what you can carry, but don’t let it slow you down -- just go.”

Arven started to ask a question, but Aridatha was already gone, climbing further up into the thin branches above, where she had to balance herself carefully. These areas were not designed for the use of any dragons above fae size, but she could see Halamshiral’s nest above her …

“Help!” The cry came from Cobalt’s nearby lean-to, though it was higher-pitched than the imperial’s typical voice, and sounded absolutely desperate. “Please, help me!”

Pausing only to shout a warning at Halamshiral’s nest, just in case the fae was in there, Aridatha spread her wings and glided into the lean-to, where she found a harshly glowing Cobalt casually crushing a blue spiral in his claws. The tilt of Cobalt’s head was more curious than malicious, as if he honestly just wanted to see what would happen to the smaller dragon’s body if he kept squeezing; and Aridatha had never seen the spiral before in her life.

That didn’t slow her intervention, though. She wasn’t large enough or magically skilled enough to fight Cobalt head-on, but she fluttered into the imperial’s face and threw sparks at his eyes, distracting him enough that the spiral managed to squirm out of his grip. Having escaped, he stood, panting, on the ground before Cobalt, staring up at the imperial in bewilderment; Aridatha dropped down next to him and shoved him towards the exit. “Go! Now!”

Cobalt shook the sparks from his eyes and roared, and the spiral at last fled with Aridatha on his tail. She glanced back, to see if Cobalt was in pursuit, and saw him flashing and spasming with rainbow light instead; quickly, she threw herself at the spiral, hurling both of them behind a large mirror. An explosion, and when she peered out again Cobalt was gone, leaving only the odd shred of that awful glow.

“Cobalt …” the spiral said, clearly in shock.

“Who are -- never mind. Questions for later. Just run, get out of here -- not that way!” This, when the spiral would have fluttered for a crevice in the lean-to’s construction, one where the multicolored fire was already spreading. “This thing is everywhere; there’s no hiding from it. Just get out of the lair, and we’ll all meet back up later.”