Archive of Our Own ^beta

Previously:
Rodney in an effort to prove that his idea for Mechanical soldiers was necessary for the defence of Atlantis, was challenged by Princess Samantha to catch a dragon using his prototype Mechanicals. Luckily, for Rodney, his friends joined him on the quest. And even luckier, Scholar Ronon remembered reading about a prolific little weed called meldosweet, or Dragon’s Bane which should help them in catching a dragon. Hanging all their hopes and plans to avoid incineration on the plant, they tracked down a black dragon in Kandahar.
Shep, nursing an injury is hiding out in Kandahar and is rudely woken by McKay’s challenge. After a brief fight, poor Shep is captured as the Dragon’s Bane is very effective. Trussed up and sick, Shep is taken back to Atlantis, bound and ill.
Just as Rodney’s about to be showered with glory, another dragon arrives to rescue Shep - Cam. Teyla, increasingly uncertain about the justice of their quest, helps free Shep and he and Cam escape. They land in the middle of the Grey Forest, near a lake, so that Shep can recover.

Now:

The night was clear, absent of clouds or mist, leaving an unimpeded view of the dazzling stars over head. Sister Moon was rising over the sea, her twin reflection shimmering and dancing on the ocean’s surface. It would have been an absolutely gorgeous evening to simply stay put, on the balcony and watch the night sky turn overhead, the stars march across the sky in majestic splendour.

Elizabeth heard the soft footfalls of someone entering her chambers and swallowed the tired sigh she was about to let escape. Almost perfect. Almost seemed to be the order of the day. Out over the fields that rose and fell towards the sea in gently undulating waves, another fire broke out, a third long column of smoke twisting up into the sky. The dragon was almost invisible, but not quite. His golden hide gave his movement away as he hovered over the fields, having set fire to three, no four, already.

“Majesty?”

“Yes, Chamberlain, come in.” Woolsey slipped out on the balcony, his eyes immediately drawn towards the fields and the dragon darting in and out of sight through cloud, then the dark night sky. He scowled and said, “The Princess has sent every available knight and soldier out into the northern fields. But...”

Elizabeth turned slightly to meet his gaze and her Chamberlain blinked nervously, “She fears it is a ruse and has decided to keep the majority of our men at their battle stations.”

He fidgeted a little, clearly unhappy and said stiffly, “She is also overseeing the construction of McKay’s Mechanicals. They are... simplistic in form but quite complex within she reports.”
Ignoring his disapproval, uncaring of the political implications of using Automatons or Mechanicals as Rodney called them, especially if they assisted in the city’s defence, Elizabeth nodded. “Hmmmm,” she murmured. “What news from the last scout, Woolsey?”

Hunching into his shoulders a little, so that she knew it was bad news already, Woolsey grimaced, “The Asurans draw closer, still moving apace, but ... they will probably be here in three days, my Queen.”

Raw fear clutched at Elizabeth’s heart - they were so close. “And the final count of their ships?” She clutched the railing beneath her hands, tightly.

Woolsey’s voice miraculously did not shake although there was an edge of panic in his tone. “Thirty, Majesty. All ten times the size of our largest battleship. Heavily armoured.”

Now Elizabeth did sigh and she forced herself to let go the railing, lest her grip betray her nerves. Oberon and his Iron Soldiers were too close, far too close for comfort. Only a fool fought a war on two fronts and now having provoked the dragon, they ran the risk of being caught short manned and without any hope of surviving the Asurans, let alone withstanding them. It was a tough decision, but perhaps Sam had made the right one. Let a few knights hunt down the dragon and leave everyone else here preparing for a battle they could not afford to lose. But then, they couldn’t afford to lose the dragon either. The City’s defences were in poor shape as it were.

“Did McKay and his ... party head out as well?” Elizabeth did not hold out much hope of Rodney pulling off another incredible feat – the first had probably been more blind luck than skill. For all of Rodney’s brilliance, he was a trial at times.

Woolsey scowled again and nodded whilst fussing with the trim of his sleeve, “Yes, my Queen. They however headed south, following the flight path the dragons took when fleeing, completely ignoring the obvious dragon burning our fields northwards! Lord Sumner headed north, obviously.”

Atlantis gleamed in the moonlight, her spires gradually illuminated as people lit candles and light orbs. Likewise in the city proper below, Atlanteans in their homes sat down to eat, heart fires lighting the night sky.  Keeping her voice steady, Elizabeth asked, “And Sir Teyla is awaiting my pleasure, under guard?”

By the speed and way the colour drained out of Woolsey’s face, Elizabeth knew immediately that Teyla had defied her orders, again. Silent and brimming with renewed anger, she waited for the Chamberlain’s response and he slowly stammered, “Apologies, my Queen, apologies. She left with Sir McKay almost immediately. Your... order must not have reached the Gate Guard in time.”

Elizabeth laughed, soft and angry, “Or it did and they simply did not relish the task, or wish to incur her anger. Very well, when she returns then.” There would be time aplenty if they survived to deal with Teyla.

Woolsey gulped and smiled weakly. “Perhaps her assistance in the recapture of the dragon will....” Something in Elizabeth’s expression must have warned him from completing the thought, and Woolsey trailed off into silence, his expression gloomy and forlorn. The Queen tapped her fingers on the railing in irritation and said, “Her defiance will not be easily forgiven, Chamberlain. Not when we had a dragon right in the Star Court and she freed him. Freed him and potentially doomed us.”

His expression was so earnest, so heartfelt as Woolsey nodded but opened his mouth to say, “Majesty, Majesty ... I still...”

Elizabeth cut Woolsey off, losing patience with his nattering, knowing exactly what he ‘still’ did not like, and she snapped, “Enough, Woolsey. I know you disagree. I am well aware of your scepticism with my plan.” She turned to face her old friend and counsellor and said firmly, “But I am tired of you constantly second guessing me, your Queen! Is that understood?”

Taking a step back, startled by her tone, Woolsey nodded, his face pale and drawn in the moonlight, his eyes studying the intricate stonework on the balcony floor. “Yes, my Queen. Completely understood.” His voice was stiff and formal and carried none of his usual affection.

Refusing to feel the rise of guilt that flooded her throat, Elizabeth waved him away. “Bring Daniel to me, now.”

Woolsey bowed his way out, his shiny head glistening in the low lights of her room. Turning away, Elizabeth sighed again, feeling like this day was only getting worse and that was saying something. Woolsey meant well, he truly did. He had been advising her for years and had advised her father before that. His scepticism was understandable. They were basing so much of their plan to survive, their very secret plan, on the muttered ramblings of a mad man. Which is why it was a secret plan – it wouldn’t do for the populace of the city to know that their Queen and the Court charged with their protection were so terrified of the prospect of the Asuran invasion that they were literally clutching at straws.

Elizabeth closed her eyes against the beauty of the night, trying to find a measure of calm, a centre of strength. The mere mention of the word ‘Asuran’ sent her heart racing, her stomach twisting into knots.  The images of the smoking ruins of Genua the scouts had brought back were burned into her mind.

No one had ever withstood the might of the Asuran army. No one. Entire cities in the North had been devastated and razed to the ground by the relentless Automaton army, the relentless Iron Soldiers. Asur was not interested in conquest. Only destruction. There was no reasoning with them, no bargaining, and no pleading. They simply executed all envoys, all ambassadors with a mandate to sue for peace. No one, not the vaunted Asgard, the sneaky Genii, or the diffident Hoth knew why Asur, why Oberon, was so hell bent on this path of destruction. One could impugn and deduct a reason, but as the Asuran’s refused to communicate in any fashion other than war... it was impossible to be certain.

Even though she had known it was foolish, a waste of a good man, Elizabeth had sent Commander Green on his Pegasus to meet the Asuran fleet to attempt a parlay. They had had to try. The mage’s scans of his efforts revealed exactly what they feared. Green was killed on sight, his steed falling in flames as the Asuran Automatons opened fire on him.

With no avenue for peace, not even the option of living under the heel of a tyrannical empire, and the uncertainty of whether Atlantis could withstand that undefeated army, Queen Elizabeth, Ruler of the Equestria, High Queen of Atlantis, had pegged all of her hopes on a madman’s dream. A madman who had once been a trusted advisor and a viable consort candidate. Daniel, son of General Jack O’Neil, her father’s greatest tactician.

It had been O’Neil years ago, who had first warned that Atlantis was in decline, her defences crumbling. At the time, his fears had been shelved as there had been no nation or known power with the strength to challenge the might of the Atlantean army. The King had nonetheless started a restoration programme to address the weakness in their defences. All too soon it had been readily apparent that they had neither the skill nor knowledge to do more than minimal repairs. So much of the City remained a mystery to them, even after all this time.

With the real threat of Asur on their doorstep, Elizabeth had charged her Court with finding a solution, and only Daniel had thought to try the old ways, the legends and myths. It had cost him dearly.  Before the accident he had been so certain that he had found the answer to their woes – a dragon would be able to fix everything.

Elizabeth and Samantha had been mooting their options on the viability capturing a dragon considering none had been seen in years. It was a daunting task even to contemplate. McKay in his usual fashion had interrupted their strategy session with his demands for his new device to be included in the battle plans. Samantha, the Goddess Bless Her, already under so much stress, had snapped and issued a challenge they had both thought impossible. Capture a dragon, Sir McKay. Capture a dragon and prove your worth – prove that your solution was also viable.

Who would have figured on the least of her knights succeeding where she had thought it impossible even for the very best?

“Majesty?”

Janet the Healer from Fraser Hall and Daniel’s keeper hovered in the archway, hesitant in approaching her Queen. Behind her, dimly seen in the gloom of her unlit room, Elizabeth saw Daniel staring up the ceiling, his mouth open, moving as he rambled incoherently.

Elizabeth nodded quietly at Janet and indicated she could withdraw. Returning the nod, the healer stepped aside for the Queen to enter the room. Daniel did not acknowledge her entrance, his face upturned, eyes darting around, tracking, tracing the designs above him. He did this every time he came into her room, which was usually why she went to him – less distractions in his small, bare room. Her ceiling depicted the star patterns of the constellations at mid-summer over Atlantis, with all three moons highlighted in gilded gold and silver.

“Daniel?”

“Sidera supra, astra sub quinquies pro fuga et unum pro amore. Dormierit, dormierit, praesto somno soporatum, dum amor...” he mumbled, hands tracing odd motions and patterns as he spoke. His hair was wild and unkempt, although Janet must have attempted to tame it into a semblance of order for their visit.

Stepping closer, reaching out and taking his hand, Elizabeth smiled as his wild eyes found hers. His face was clean and neatly shaven, but his glasses rested askew on his nose. Willing a semblance of calm for him, hoping for just a glimpse of rational thought, she said softly, “The Asurans are almost here, Daniel, please. Is this still...?”

Shaking his head so that long hair fell across his face nearly obscuring his eyes, and sunken cheeks, he blinked and whispered, fervently, “Thronum perdita, regina perditae, comminatio orientem ab Abyssus, sicut cete et sidera et oceano profundo.” He held her hand tightly, eyes boring into hers, as if he were likewise trying to ‘will’ her to understand him, to make sense of his words.

His speech though was so fast, so nonsensical, that Elizabeth had to shake her head. Despair clutched at her heart, his meaningless words fluttering around like birds, useless and free. “Please, Daniel. We need...”

Abruptly, he clutched her hand back, face clear, earnest, blue eyes burning into hers as if this was a matter of a life or death. But the words that tumbled out were the same nonsense he’d been sputtering since he sat on the throne, months ago. “Nigredo renascens. Media nocte vocat. Veni domum, vetus fili, veni domum illa expectat draco!”

He peered at her, waiting for her comprehension and all she could do was stare back, helplessly.

Elizabeth wanted to send him away, send his useless words far from her, when all she needed was some reassurance that their half-baked scheme, spun so long ago was not a desperate, blind hope, but a real, actual plan. Instead, Elizabeth pulled him down to sit beside her on the soft day bed she kept near the balcony. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I truly am. I wish we understood you.”

Together they sat, hand in hand, and stared up at her illuminated ceiling, the bright yellow whirls, swirls and darts of colour against the midnight blue background so artistically depicting the moving stars.

“Dormientes draconum, excitarent sidera adolebit lucidius sole.”

“I suppose so, Daniel.”

Janet waited patiently at the door, her eyes determinedly not looking at the pair. From her perch, Elizabeth noted sadly that the dragon was no longer visible through the window, and that no new fires had arisen. Maybe her knights had chased him off.

Cam ran, legs pumping, heart pounding, pushing the limits of his body. Running was a lot harder than flying, but as he hurtled through the forest, feet thudding against the ground, it felt almost like he was flying.

But they were gaining, their mounts faster and stronger than him – for now. Cam pressed on regardless, determined to put as much distance between them and the village as possible. He leapt gracefully over a fallen tree which lay across his path, right leg leading, left landing solidly on the other side, the race ongoing.

He listened to hear the hoof and paw beats behind him, and while they were not right on top of him, the sound of five, no six riders pursuing him was closer than he’d like. On a whim, Cam dodged left, pushing through the undergrowth into the night dimmed forest, hoping to lose the riders in the closer, denser confines of the woods away from the path.

Unfortunately, the forest was a tamed, well farmed one. The trees stood evenly apart, a good distance from each other, not like the dense clamour of growth, greenery, and vegetation of his home forests. These woods were well travelled, well hunted and the local villages obviously had a woodsman or three who pruned the trees out of their tangled habits.

Cursing slightly, Cam dug deep for a burst of energy, hoping to gain a little distance, drag this chase out a little longer.  He had to be careful though – he couldn’t be too fast, lest he raise their suspicions more than he already had. The moon was overly bright, and it felt almost like daylight as he ran past towering trees, their leafy canopy far overhead, beams of moonlight breaking through, painting the forest in spears of white and silver. The silence that should have prevailed was lost to the noise of the chase, heart trumpeting in his chest, thudding in his ears, the tense expectant rush of the hunt behind him.

Cam stretched out and leapt over a protruding root, but misjudged its height and stumbled over the cluster of roots on the other side. Stupid clumsy human feet. Staggering, he tried to right himself, but his ankle ached fiercely, protesting every halting step. Cursing again, Cam tried to push through it, ignore it, but the stumble had cost him. Seeing their opportunity, the men behind him surged forward, and Cam ground to an immediate stop as a knight astride a massive lizard overtook him and blocked his path. Turning, trying to side step, Cam slowed, limping, suddenly surrounded on all sides, with no avenue of escape. There were seven knights – not six.

Breathing hard, Cam leaned forward, trying to catch his breath, keeping both eyes trained on his captors as best he could from that position. All of the mounts were breathing hard, mouths open, breath steaming in the cool night air. He’d cut it close, maybe too close. Abruptly abandoning firing the fields, flying south and then changing was a risky move. Oh well, he had to try.

Hoping to the stars above that his somewhat idiotic plan would work, Cam clutched his side like he was winded. “Is it still behind us?” he gasped, training his gaze up to the obscured sky, trying to see through the cover of leaves and branches. The knight nearest him, a stern-faced man riding a massive horse snorted, “What?”

None of the knights looked away; all kept their eyes on him, but one or two risked quick glances at their surroundings, at the very silent forest, alert for ‘something’. They’d chased a dragon all this way and lost him in the forest. It took a large leap of logic to start chasing a running man when you were hunting a dragon.

Pressing forward, regardless of the ridiculousness of his plan, Cam groaned, “The dragon. The dragon, is it gone?”

Oppressive silence fell over the group, each man now carefully scanning the skies, the woods. But the lead knight, or so Cam presumed, growled, “What are you talking about? The dragon is nowhere in sight.”

Looking up, one eye clenched closed, face dripping with sweat, Cam put his hands on his hips and sighed, “You sure? Then why were we running?”

“Because you were running.”

Cam met the stiff gaze of the knight whose eyes bored into him, no doubt trying to determine the truth. Licking his lips, Cam smiled sheepishly and laughed, “So, I was running because you were, and you were running because I was? Well, how ‘bout that?”

Maybe by some strange luck they hadn’t put two and two together. Fiery dragon vanishes; dusty, well-worn man appears in a village nearby. They would have been alert for an attack, not a fleeing man.

“Normally when a lone man runs from a village late at night, he is up to no good. We pursued you...“ one of the knights said sternly, trailing off as Cam straightened with an indignant look on his face.

“Because you thought I was a thief?” Cam injected as much incredulity into his voice as he stood. He projected suprise, rather affront, not wanting to seem overly sensitive to being called a thief. “I... I was in the village buying medicine ... for my mother.” Cam showed them the bulky bag over his shoulder. “The village wizard, she... she can speak for me. I... whew.” Cam bent down again, feigning exhaustion, drawing as much energy as he could just in case he needed to run again.

If they did not believe his story... The wizard had haggled for far too long, her fresh face still vivid in Cam’s mind. She had been no fool, as no doubt most of her ‘late night’ customers were up to no good. It had been bad timing and a continuation of bad luck that they had seen him trotting out of the village, trying to make up for lost time.

“What did you buy?” Cam looked up at another knight, a man with a kinder face albeit as stern an expression as them all. Addressing him, Cam straightened and held out the bag. “Ragwort, Nightweed, and Moonblossom.”

The knight snorted, his face relaxing, “All harvested and sold at night, sir.” He directed his words at their leader, who did not relax, but glared at Cam. Knights hunting dragons tended to be suspicious creatures, especially these knights whose Queen wanted Shep so badly.

Staring back meekly, still projecting sheepish embarrassment, Cam stammered, “I thought you were hunting the dragon and that it was about to attack the village... so I ran. I’m sorry if you...”

The knight cut him off with a sharp hand gesture and snarled at his men, “Kowalski, take Hunt and Packer, see if you can pick up a trail. Perhaps the beast is still hiding beneath the trees, waiting to strike.”

The other knights nodded and murmured, “Yes, Lord Sumner.” With one last amused look at Cam, Sir Kowalski trotted off on his moose, two knights on lizards following.

The remaining four knights still circled Cam, and Sumner kneed his horse closer, forcing Cam to step back, right into the broad unyielding flank of the massive wolfhound. “You ran because you thought a dragon was about to attack. You continued to run because ...?”

Swallowing, not feigning his nerves, Cam mumbled, “If the dragon was after you... I just wanted to be faster than you.” Made logical sense, right? Small humans ran from dragons all the time.

“Despite not hearing any dragon, or seeing flame or burning trees? Or having no evidence of being pursued by a dragon!” Sumner looked angry, annoyed beyond reason and Cam paled. “I ran, sir knight. I just ran. I... we all sawing the burning fields and ....” Cam trailed off into stunned disbelief. Herein lay the gamble, the hope that none of these Southern folk remembered the tales about Dragonborn. Even half-baked, misconstrued stories about dragons who could take human form for a time.

Biting off a curse, Sumner wheeled away, his horse nearly stepping on Cam. “Come, let’s return to the hunt.” The three knights silently urged their steeds forward, back towards the narrow forest road, following their leader without a further glance at Cam. Abruptly alone, Cam stood shaking, both from anger and nerves. Sumner turned in his saddle and glared back at him. “I see you again, thief or not, you had better not run.”

And with that, the Knights of Atlantis trotted back into the forest, lost almost immediately in the gloom of night. Cam stood still, heart slowly returning to a normal pace, waiting. As true silence fell, and the normal night sounds of an active forest returned, Cam sighed. In retrospect, he should not have run, but at least he had led them further away from Shep. The more north they travelled the better.  The worry he had though was that they did not seem overly concerned about tracking an airborne dragon. One of the Knights was probably a spell-caster and would try tracking either him or Shep with magic. Cam snorted. It was unlikely to work.

It however spoke to some suspicion in their minds that they had pursued him at all. If hunting dragons, why chase a man unless you thought him a thief? And oh boy, did Cam hope that was all they suspected.

Patting the bag of herbs and medicine, Cam summoned a thimbleful of energy. Hopefully one, if not all of the herbs would help Shep, but Cam needed to reach his friend, quickly. He had travelled much further than he had intended – had maybe got a little carried away burning fields full of Dragon Bane.

 If any of the Knights had lingered to see what he would do, Cam would be in real trouble. He could not afford to be away from Shep much longer. It had been difficult running as his human body would without drawing from the massive banks of stored dragon strength. A man suddenly running faster than even the fleetest wolf hound would have given them more than sufficient reason to pursue. As it was, he had probably run too fast – for a human – which may have led to the knights’ pursuit.

Muttering to himself about the predicaments Shep so regularly plunged him into, Cam sent up a prayer to the First Egg and took one last look around the forest. Silence greeted him as the Moon lingered overhead, large and full, the trees dark with shadows and broken spears of light.

Slowly, Cam trotted off, heading south but away from the lake where Shep hid. As he gained distance and listened intently for signs of being trailed, Cam slowly sped up, slowly siphoning off energy, pushing and pushing until he was running faster  than any human would be able to. Even so, he did not stretch to the upper limits of his strength – there was still too much to do.

Chapter 2

Sister Moon was bright overhead by the time Cam reached Shep, his journey as fast as he dared, but he had taken a circuitous route, lest he was indeed being tailed. Shep was curled up in a ball on the shore of the lake, a long dark, unmoving shadow on the gravelly beach.

Cam took a second to catch his breath, resisting the urge to tap into his in-potentia strength to bolster his flagging energy. Shep looked completely done in, about as ragged and exhausted as a dragon could get. If it wasn’t for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, one would almost think he was dead. Cam however, was not ‘one’ who did, and he hurried over, opening the pouch of herbs.

The Moonblossom had been the true boon to find. Dragon’s Breath would have been better, but it hardly grew in the southlands, mostly due to the prevalence of Dragon Bane. Poison and cure did not grow side by side usually and the same applied here. The Nightweed should draw out some of the poison seeping into Shep’s blood stream, and the Ragwort would help with the fever. But the Moonblossom would do the most good in clearing his lungs from the miasma the Bane induced.

Shep just had to wake up long enough for Cam to get the medicine into him. Hopefully it would be in time, and they could arrest the continued progress of the Bane through his system. The longer the poison had to settle into his lungs, bloodstream, and nerves, the less likely his recovery. Shep had reassured him, at least twice, that he had expelled most of the smoke when the sharding knights had captured him. It was probably the only reason he was still alive. But Bane was a pervasive, persistent poison. It clung and clutched at the lungs for days. A dragon could survive; hell, every medicine scroll on the plant mentioned that there was hope. But recovery was difficult...

Crossing the few steps to Shep, Cam called out cheerfully, “Hey, Shep, buddy. I’m back.”

Gently, but firmly enough to rouse him, Cam stroked Shep’s long muzzle, soft human skin running over the black, glistening hide. It felt strange being so small next to his friend, when usually he was the bigger dragon. Now, Shep’s head was as big, if not bigger than his entire human body. Hell, his arm was barely as long as one of Shep’s teeth.

When Shep did not stir, Cam patted him harder, unafraid of hurting him, but not wanting to startle him. The marks the rope had left on his snout were fading, the lake water doing a world of good in washing off the Bane.  Nonetheless, the crisscross of discolouration of Shep’s hide was a sure enough indicator that the Bane had had too long an opportunity to seep into him. Dragon hide was famously robust and tough – resistant to extreme heat and cold, most mortal weapons, but it seemed so fragile to the touch of Bane, so easily damaged.

Sluggishly, Shep opened his eyes, thin slits of pale white against his dark hide. The moonlight was sufficient to illuminate some of the fine pearl-essence around his eye, but on the whole his gaze was dull, flat, and exhausted, the green of his eye barely visible, his iris large and oval in shape.  

“Hey, hey,” Cam greeted his friend. “How is your breathing?” Most important question first. Cam strained to hear any indication of rasping or wheezing in the cool night air. Shep blinked and shifted, the whole motion laboured, and his eye opened wider, white teeth glistening with salvia.

“Hard. Bad.” Shep rumbled hoarsely, like he was talking through a long dusty pipe. Additionally he shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but he barely moved, his tail twitching in frustration.

Frowning, Cam moved closer and pressed his ear against Shep’s chest, straining to hear something. It was difficult to hear and judge his breathing over the thud of his hearts, and without his dragon senses, Cam couldn’t be sure he’d be able to accurately judge the condition of his lungs anyway.

“Can’t hear much, sorry.”

Shep though had closed his eyes already, maybe asleep, but probably just drifting in a haze. Torn, Cam paused, wondering what was the bigger priority. Drawing the poison out or getting Shep to take the Moonblossom and begin hacking up the sludge building up again in his lungs?

It’d be easier for Cam to treat the wound if Shep wasn’t moving around, coughing, so Cam patted Shep again and said loudly, “I’m going to take care of that wound on your flank first, ok? Then your lungs.” Last would be the Ragwort, once Shep was asleep and healing.

Shep blinked back at him, his tongue edging out of his mouth as his jaws opened, maybe so that he could breathe better. Cam was no healer, even by dragon standards, but he knew it was a bad sign when a dragon needed to pant a little to breathe.

Gently, Cam stepped up onto Shep’s foreleg, mindful of his talons, and he scrambled up onto his friend, and awkwardly picked his way over his shoulder and wing until he reached Shep’s left leg and flank. Dragon hide was a lot more slippery underfoot than expected. The wound Acolya-katus had inflicted mid-flight so many days ago was half-healed, but after the events of the day, was partly open and seeping blood. The few other nicks and cuts from the fight were mending, but the new burns from the Bane were prolific. The knights had done a good job binding him with rope.

Cursing both the dragon who had injured him and the knights who had captured him, Cam set to doing what he could for an injury larger than his current size. Acolya had challenged Shep several days ago, but the wound had not had time to heal beyond a seeping scab. Each time Shep moved, it opened the wound, as it tore across several muscle groups,  which is why Shep was supposed to be laying low in that cave, unmoving while Cam hunted for him. The fool had been hunting for himself... before Cam found him.

Peering at the wound, which was red, the black hide at the edges crusty with broken scab, Cam feared that too much of the Bane from the net had settled into it. It was also encrusted with dirt and stones – hell before their brief dunk in the lake, Shep had been covered in dust. Taking a wild guess, Cam yelled back at his friend, “They shot you out of the sky, didn’t they?”

Shep didn’t answer, but he grunted softly, and Cam cursed under his breath. That had probably opened up the wound, just in time for some nice bane-laced ropes to cut into it. Just great. Muttering about the parentage, honour, and future health of those who had hurt Shep, Cam weighed his options. The wound was as clean as it was going to get without him taking hours getting enough water to wash away the dirt. The priority had to be Bane. Besides, they could fight off an ordinary infection once the Bane was gone, right?  

Taking out the Nightweed, Cam soaked it in the seeping blood and began to pack it into the deepest, open parts of the tear. It would help clot and draw out the poison, but even as Cam worked he knew he just didn’t have enough weed for the size of the wound.

The village wizard had given him a strange look when he had asked for a larger than usual dose. Hell, he’d taken her entire stock, but the dose for a human wound was so much smaller than what was required for a dragon. Cam practically needed an entire garden of the Nightweed to adequately pack the injury. Acolya must have sharpened his claws to a razor edge before the fight, or had just caught Shep with a lucky blow. It was a near crippling wound in and of itself, but with the added danger of an infection, it had the potential to kill his friend.

Sighing, Cam shoved thoughts of Shep’s complicated life back in the Wingsong Mountains away and focused on the matter at hand. What mattered was the Acolya-katus was dead, and Shep was alive. Political ramifications be damned. Cam just had to keep Shep alive – now.

It took all too brief a time, and the Nightweed was finished, and the wound barely covered. Cam sat back on his haunches, calf muscles burning from prolonged squat.  “Shit,” he sighed. It looked and felt like he was trying to put out a brush fire with a wet sack. Well intentioned but useless. The long wound looked slightly better, the Nightweed black with blood and swelling moderately, but it just wasn’t enough.

Blinking back his own exhaustion, Cam slid off Shep and hurried around to his head. Shep was sleeping again or dozing. The Moonblossom was next and then the Ragwort once Shep had coughed himself silly. Cam figured he had to act now before Shep’s strength faded further as it fought off the poison in his blood. “Hey, hey, need you awake, Shep.”

Groggily, Shep stirred one large eye and gazed back at him , the pupil now thin and narrow. Cam smiled back at him, trying to inject as much confidence and surety as he could into his voice. “I need you to drink something, all right? So sit up...” He patted Shep’s muzzle gently, reassuringly urging him to get up.

Shep nodded briefly, and Cam dashed to the lake, taking the empty wineskin he’d found in the village out from beneath his shirt. He’d stolen the shirt and trousers from a washing line at an outlying farm. They itched, which only added to the weirdness that was wearing clothes. Rinsing the wineskin out, he then filled it with cold lake water. Cam dropped a few of the precious Moonblossom leaves into the water and shook the skin around. He trotted back to Shep who had awkwardly sat up, forelegs curled underneath him, and neck raised. He still looked beat, but even sitting up Shep looked more alive, less near death.  

Taking heart, ignoring that it was a false hope, Cam closed the distance between them and asked softly, “Do you think you can manage a small flame – a couple of times?”

Swallowing thickly, like his throat was sore, as it no doubt was, Shep rolled his eyes. “Maybe,” he growled. His voice sounded awful – gravelly and ragged. Cam held up the leather skin and shook it. “Quick, one second flame. Tiny. Just enough to heat it.”

Shep nodded, swallowed again, and lowered his head so that his snout was close to the bag. The flame he coughed up was miniscule, but just right. He caught Cam’s hand a bit, but he shook it off, before Shep saw the flash of hurt.

Stupid, soft, human hide.

Shaking and swirling the skin, Cam motioned for Shep to come closer. “Drink this all, buddy. It’ll probably burn as it goes down, but you need to...” The Moonblossom was potent, even a small dose such as this would be effective. Anymore and Shep might do himself some harm.

Shakily, Shep tried to take the skin from Cam, but his hand was too big, claws too long, the wineskin lost in his palm. Sluggishly he tried for several moments, before Cam shook his head. “Shit,” Cam cursed. “Open your mouth then.”  He pushed at Shep’s hand, urging him to stop trying. The ragged discolouration around Shep’s wrist was deep and mottled. The ropes had cut deeply into his hide there. Cam ignored the flash of hatred in his heart and motioned for Shep to lower his head.

It was awkward, Shep holding his head low enough for Cam to reach up and pour the mixture in, trying to avoid long, sharp teeth. The mixture slowly trickled out, splashing onto Shep’s tongue, before gradually heading down his throat. Swallowing, Shep coughed and spluttered as the medicine irritated his burnt and ravaged throat. A strange rumble echoed through his chest as the last drops trickled down, and Shep groaned. Pulling away, tossing the wineskin aside, Cam grimaced as Shep opened his jaws wide, hissing as the medicine got to work.

“Sorry, sorry,” Cam muttered, but his attention was on the last of the Moonblossom. The wizard had only had a small sprig, harvested under the last full set of moons. Making sure that he had every leaf, Cam nearly tried to breath fire himself before his ‘lack’ of physical ability reasserted that he was in human form. Growling at himself, he waved it at Shep and said, “One more small spark, please.”

Already discomforted by the Moonblossom, his throat convulsing and shuddering, Shep struggled to produce another flame, his breathing even more laboured and rushed. Taking far longer than he ought, Shep gave up trying to breathe out a spark and summoned a small sliver of fire instead. Cam felt the magic flow and frowned. Shep didn’t have the energy to spare for external magic.

The leaves caught the spark and began to smoulder. Holding up the little bundle, Cam ordered sharply, getting Shep’s attention, “Hey, breathe it in quick, ok? Deep breaths, deep as you can.” He directed the smoke towards Shep with his hand, the long pungent curls beautiful in the air, lazy in the stillness.

Obedient, Shep tried to breathe in deep, Cam could see it – could see his chest straining, the massive muscles rippling with the effort, but each breath caught off sharply, a hitch in his breathing that deepened with every effort. Struggling, Shep abruptly lowered himself with a groan, chest almost on the ground again, and Cam held the bundle as close to Shep’s nostrils as he could. The smoke twisted and rose in gentle spirals, pushed upwards by its own internal heat, and Shep inhaled it, snorting a little.  

The effect was not as instantaneous as the liquid mixture, and Shep managed to get a half dozen ragged inhalations of the Moonblossom smoke before a convulsive shudder rocked him. Rearing up, nearly knocking Cam off his feet, Shep roared gruffly and began to cough.

Long, chest rattling coughs that rose from deep inside his chest, a rumble that sounded as ominous as thunder all rolled into a cacophony of misery that rocked Shep forward, forelegs digging into the gravel for purchase. Leaning forward, jaws open, eyes shut tight, Shep coughed, and coughed, and coughed.

At first nothing but salvia dribbled out of his mouth, but then slowly black mucus emerged in long, sticky globules. The slow trickle turned into a flood as more and more of the black, smelly ooze was coughed up.  Shep sagged forward, fast losing strength, but the hacking motions and coughing did not abate. His hind-legs kicked out a spray of gravel as the effort to cough rattled him. All Cam could do was stand back and watch, helplessly, knowing it was important, necessary, vital even for Shep to expel all of the poison. It still hurt, though, not being able to help, to ease the pain.

It seemed to go on for ages, each lung-wrenching cough more agonising than the last. Abruptly though, Shep choked, and after a brief struggle spat up a massive clog of foul mess that stank to high heaven.

Struggling to draw breath, spent and exhausted, Shep stared blearily at Cam for a second and then keeled over, in a boneless, unconscious sprawl.  Stunned, Cam stared at his friend and rushed over, hands searching for a pulse, for a sign of life. “Shep. Shep!”

The pulse was there, thready and faint, and just as Cam felt that maybe it was going to be okay, Shep began to convulse under his hands. Even unconscious, his body was still trying to cough, trying to vomit, but now Shep was dead to the world and unable to perform the necessary physical motions. An inner heat radiated from him as well, a fever burning through him.

“Hey! Hey! Wake up!” Cam yelled, slapping his tiny hands on Shep’s face, close to the sensitive parts of his eye. There was no response. Shep lay senseless, his limbs and wings twitching and thrashing. Desperate, Cam tried to pry open Shep’s jaws, yelling all the while and keeping out of the way of extended claws and large forelegs, but it was useless. Human strength, even enhanced with his true dragon self, was insufficient to do more than open the jaws a crack. Shep continued to thrash weakly, his chest heaving and gyrating like something living was trying to claw its way out.

“Shells and shards!” Cam jumped onto Shep’s neck and shouted in his ear. “Come on! Wake up! Shep!” His voice cracked and shook with urgency, and he poked at Shep’s eye. Not waiting to see if that worked, Cam gripped Shep’s horns tightly and rode out the unconscious heaves. Shep’s thrashing wasn’t too violent, in fact, it was getting weaker and weaker, but Cam wanted a firm grip.

Summoning all of his stored dragon energy, Cam poured his strength into Shep. It was a hell of a lot easier when Shep could just take it, as giving felt too unnatural. Hell, Shep didn’t even need physical contact to siphon off energy usually but Cam needed the contact to make the transfer. As Cam felt the flood of energy stream through him like a conduit into Shep, what started out as small stream soon roared into a river.

The energy was hot and buoyant, like blood fresh from a jugular, and he dimly recalled his father lecturing at length about Dragonborn magic. When the only magic you had access to was the ability to shift between dragon and human, a young Dragonborn had to understand where the ‘rest’ of their body went whilst in human form. His father had impressed upon him the full implications of what shifting your shape meant and how dangerous it was if you tried to shift back without your full dragon strength restored. The change took energy, and you needed equal or more strength in place before switching back.

Cam closed his eyes and willed far more energy into Shep than was safe. He’d been using his stored dragon strength all night – to run, to outpace danger. At the moment, it would be at least a day before he could transform back into a dragon, so what did it matter if he emptied his reserves now. He had no idea how long it would be before he could revert to his true form, but what did it matter if Shep died? He had to try. Even from behind closed eyes, he could see the glow of his hands as the remainder of his strength pumped into Shep, hopefully saving his life.

Cam blinked as a wave of light-headedness hit him, and he felt increasingly cold, his feet and legs a mass of pins and needles. Vaguely he was aware of the quiet of the night, the stars overhead, but his major focus was the distant sensation of Shep’s horns under his hands, growing warmer and warmer each second. It felt peculiar, the quiet of the night compared to the roar inside him, a roar that was dragging to a slow end. At some point, the balance tipped, and Cam was tapped out, reserves gone and the only energy left that which he needed to live.

Beneath him, Shep rumbled to life, and Cam fell sideways off Shep’s neck and onto the cool, wet stones. Through, dim blacking-out vision, he saw Shep rise, wings outstretched and half roar, half cough the rest of the muck and mucus out.

Grinning weakly, Cam fought the wave of darkness that beat at his consciousness, trying to drag him under. He had to see if it worked. Vaguely he saw Shep cough some more and heard the clatter of claws on stones as his friend scrambled up, wings beating. It had worked... it had worked.

Cam let go and drifted off, half dreaming that Shep’s massive face dipped towards him, black strings of goo dripping from his jaws.

And then, there was just the silence of the night.

As far as days went, this one had been a spectacular one. A spectacular failure that had been so close to being a spectacular success. So, sharding close.

Rodney sighed, and patted Aggy, who whuffled a discontented response. She wasn’t used to long days like this, not anymore. Usually her days were spent in the pasture behind the manor in quiet retirement, her days of work and long riding far behind her. Nonetheless she was still gamely, albeit not silently, keeping pace with the younger, fitter steeds. Behind him, Carson and Radek were arguing, which was not in and of itself unusual. The pair spent more time arguing than they did doing anything else productive. They maintained that the arguments led to far superior spells, wards, and devices as an end result. Rodney was not convinced.

However, he enjoyed engaging in their arguments on occasion, even though they were often fundamentally wrong on some critical aspects, but tonight, as they wound their way through the great Grey Forest, a sullen silence had overtaken the company, and Rodney was reluctant to engage in light hearted banter. Not when the mood was so sombre, and their mission so serious.

Mission. Quest.

It was passing strange indeed to have been charged with not one, but two quests so recently. Throughout his career as a Knight of the Star Court, Rodney had undertaken a total of zero quests. Until yesterday. Now he was on his second or a continuation of the first. It all depended on how you looked at it.

Rodney sighed.

This morning he had been filled with muted terror and desperate hope. Tonight as the stars climbed overhead and Sister Moon watched over them, her light soft and gentle, Rodney felt more confused than terrified. He felt that he was missing something – something very important. He was a smart man, shards, he was a brilliant man, and he did not like mysteries. Especially mysteries in which he was directly involved.  

The mystery before him now, the one that rolled and rambled around his mind, was a complex and layered one but it mostly involved the Dragon. Princess Samantha’s dare, a challenge for him to catch a Dragon, had been an offhand comment, one that she had hardly contemplated him agreeing to or succeeding at once engaged. One she had meant for him to fail just so that he would leave off nagging her about his Mechanicals.

Why was the Dragon suddenly so important? Why had the Queen so abruptly refused his release and then ordered his recapture? It was ‘just’ a dragon. Right?

Teyla and her actions were also part of the mystery. Something had happened, something Rodney had missed while he basked in the glory of success and the Princess’s consternation. Teyla had freed the Dragon. Several knights had reported seeing her doing so. Why? Why had Teyla felt the need to free their hard won prize? She had invited herself on to the quest in the first place, no matter what she had said about the Queen ordering her.

It was all very... peculiar.

It hadn’t been particularly hard to find the great black brute either. One off hand conversation had confirmed a rumour Carson had already heard. And, there had been a dragon. If the Queen and the Court had been looking for a dragon, why had they not sent out half a dozen quest parties? Why only him, the laughing stock of the Court?

Rodney sighed again and worked through the recent overhead conversations, rumours and speculations of the Court. It was a difficult task as he normally paid nonsense like that no heed, more concerned with his devices and inventions. The usual buzz of the Court had been overridden largely in part with speculations and fears around the approaching Asuran fleet. What had he missed?

Ahead, Teyla’s Western Tiger growled ominously. Teyla had taken the lead by natural default – her mount had the best sense of smell for tracking prey. Rodney had briefly contemplated arguing that it was a flimsy rationale  as the dragons had escaped through flight and no tiger, no matter how keen its sense of smell, could track prey through the air. One look though at Teyla’s face and Rodney had wisely decided not to press the issue. Teyla had taken the lead, and her Tiger had hardly snuffled a trail. Instead they seemed to be following a path based on guesswork and supposition – so something mostly due to Ronon’s influence.

One thing Rodney was certain of though. The Queen was hiding something, and Rodney had pegged down two options. Maybe she had intelligence that the Asurans could be assuaged by a Dragon hostage. Or she had the means to collar a Dragon and force it to help defend them.

Ahead the trees were coming to an end, an open space looming beyond the forest. A lake, in fact, probably Lake Lucius. Maybe they could rest for a spell here, and let Aggy catch her breath while Teyla imagined a new goose chase for them.

Chapter 3

The forest was too quiet. A sure enough sign in Teyla’s mind. Ronon may have argued that it was their presence that silenced the usual nocturnal creatures, but Teyla was not inclined to engage her friend in an academic debate. The forest had been silent before their arrival in the area. The creatures of the forest no doubt sensed and smelled the presence of a large predator.

Hopefully, that meant the Dragons.

Quiet forests were not the only thing Teyla did not wish to debate with Ronon. The entire situation begged deep discussion, but Teyla could not find the equanimity of mind to broach any subject with Ronon. She might end up shouting at him when the anger was not correctly directed at him.

Even if in part it was.

It had been his idea to use the meldosweet, and it had been his stupid book. Granted it had been Carson’s idea to burn it, and Rodney’s foolish pride that lead them on the quest. But it had been her idea to wrap it around the ropes, and she should have known – remembered – better.

What would her grandfather say if he ever found out?

“You worry too much.”

“And you do not worry enough, Ronon.”

Teyla may have added too much censure to her voice, but this situation was not one of levity or humour. Far from it, as she felt her honour was in jeopardy. Ronon remained undaunted in his effort to diffuse her temper. “You were not to know, Teyla. Even I was surprised by the... “

Briefly losing control on her temper, she rounded on her friend a little, keeping her Tiger’s head still focused on the non-existent trail, and snapped, “I was, Ronon. I was supposed to know. Athos has a long tradition of friendships with Dragons – our legends are full of them. I was supposed to know better! How could I have forgotten?”

Ronon shook his head, his long hair moving like a wave over his back. “Legends are not always to be believed, Teyla – even you have admitted this in the past. The stories about giant insects that hunt humans...”

Shaking her head with him, but not in agreement, Teyla replied angrily, “There is also a truth at the root of a legend and my people have long believed in the intelligence and honour of Dragons, no matter what modern Atlanteans have thought.”

The path underfoot was overgrown, and long grass brushed against her legs as the tiger made its way, guided by her gentle nudges. “Is that why you freed the Dragon?” Ronon’s face was void of accusation, probably only curiosity prompting him to ask what everyone wanted to know.

Refusing to look away, prepared to face the consequences of her actions, Teyla shrugged. “There is more afoot here than a simple quest, Ronon. I could understand testing Rodney’s Mechanicals on a beast, or a strong army – but why a Dragon? It seemed such an odd choice of a test.”

“Which is why you came along?”

Teyla nodded, recalling her own excitement with regret. “I thought it unlikely we would succeed as it is has been so long since dragonkind have been seen. I wanted.... Ronon, it was pure luck we found him.”

Ronon nodded but asked his next question gently, “There is more though, more as to why you freed him.”

For a long moment Teyla met his eyes, searching them for the same suspicion she shared, but Ronon was too skilled a scholar and in the end, Teyla sighed, and said simply, “Elizabeth never lies, Ronon. Never.”

To this, Ronon nodded. He shared her worry on this too – why had Elizabeth lied? Claimed that the black dragon was terrorising the realm? Why was the Dragon suddenly so important when the purpose of the quest had been to test the mettle of the Mechanicals? On that count it had succeeded, oh, yes. But now, they were hunting a dragon – again when instead they should be home, helping prepare for the Asuran Fleet.

Never one to miss an incongruity, Ronon said solemnly, “The Queen’s deception is a worry, as is this new quest, Teyla, but your own deception is equally troubling.”

Teyla paused, her mouth open in protest, but she could not find the words to side track Ronon off this point. Instead, she sighed and shrugged. “I don’t have an answer for you, Ronon. You have twice asked me how I know where the Dragon is, and my reply each time has been true. I do not know. I just ... know.”

Her friend studied her with thin, piercing eyes. For a man of knowledge and intellect, Ronon certainly had the air of a warrior about him at times – as did all Satedans. He spoke slowly, with consideration, as he said, “But you have an inkling, an idea, perhaps?”

Looking forward, focusing on the gentle pull she felt, the vague notion of there, Teyla nodded. “Our legends, “ and she put a lot of emphasis on that word, “say that Athos long held alliance with the Dragons during the Wraith Wars. No wraith has been seen in Athos for millennia, but we still keep careful watch.”

She paused, and Ronon waited patiently. Behind her, Teyla felt the eyes of her friends, Rodney’s equally questioning gaze, on the back of her heck but her words were for Ronon’s ears only. “Athosian magic saved the Dragons, saved them from a terrible plague. In order to protect their future generations, they adopted many of our sigils and glyphs, and it created a bond. A Knight of Athos was once called a Dragon Shield and we fought side by side with Dragon Knights.”

Ronon stared at her expectantly, clearly wanting more of the legend, but Teyla shrugged. “That is all I recall. That we fought side by side with them. Athos as the Shield, and the Dragon as the Knight. We fought a mighty enemy – not the Wraith, because that was our enemy. We fought... their enemy.”

The trees overheard rustled in the night air, the stars sporadically glimpsed, and Teyla followed a sense of a being she had long thought vanished from their world. It was a strange night, quiet with anticipation it felt. Ronon rummaged around his book bag, his Tortoise plodding along, matching the speed of the rest. “Perhaps your people’s legends are recorded in more detail in a book?”

Teyla shrugged, “Most likely, but those books will be in Athos, Ronon.”

Whatever Ronon was going to say was lost as Evan hurried forward and pointed ahead. “There is a lake ahead, and my elk is getting skittish again.”

Nodding, Teyla dismounted and trotted the remaining yards to the edge of the forest on foot. A massive lake, probably Lake Lucius lay before them, its waters black in the waning night sky. Carefully, Teyla searched the lake and the surrounding forest and nearly missed the dragon, black on dark gravel, against a black lake. But there he was – Jhepard-shon.

“Where is the other?” Ronon hissed. Evan searched the sky. “It was the one burning fields in the North, near Lune. Perhaps it is still there, or further north – drawing searchers like us away.”

Teyla nodded. “Yes, mostly likely as Jhepard-shon seemed most weak.” She did not shove the guilt that rose aside – she deserved to feel the guilt. No matter their ignorance, they had hurt the Dragon, a thinking, reasoning being, for spurious reasons.

Making far too much noise in his armour, Rodney joined them and squeaked softly, “I have no idea how you did it, Teyla, and we’ll discuss it later, but you’ve found the beat. Carson and Radek have a few pots of meldosweet left...” Rodney trailed off with a pained yelp, as Teyla stepped on his foot and gripped his hand.

Her voice sharp and grave, Teyla ordered, “No, Rodney! We are not attacking the Dragon. We are going to do what we should have done to begin with.” Her heart was pounding with mixture of fear and anticipation. Hopefully she would be able to make some of this disaster right.

“And what is that?”he snarled, trying to pull his hand free.

 Keeping her grip firm and unyielding, Teyla hissed, “Talk to him.” The wind picked up and rattled the leaves overhead, making her tiger nuzzle the back of her knees in worry. Ignoring him for now, Teyla tried to impress her opinion on Rodney by sheer force of will.

“It is hardly in the mood or disposition to talk to us, Teyla!” Rodney cursed, oblivious as usual, and Evan nodded in agreement.

Releasing Rodney and shoving him a little so he crashed against the smooth wood of a tree next to him, Teyla gritted out, “There will be no discussion on this. I am going to talk to him, to apologise,  and ask for him to come back to Atlantis with us.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and snapped, “Then we will have to attack once he’s incinerated you and ...”

“Get incinerated ourselves,” Lorne sighed.

Without the advantage of surprise and the Mechanicals, it was doubtful they could succeed a second time – especially as the second dragon could return at any time. Rodney and Evan were right; they stood little to no chance of recapturing the dragon on their own, but that was not Teyla’s intention.

Unheeding, Teyla took off her cloak and drew a soft, glowing blue sigil on her breastplate, urging a smattering of power into the sigil as she did so. Looking up at them, she said firmly, “I am going, you all stay here.” Without waiting to hear Evan and Rodney’s further protests, Teyla strode off with a confidence she did not feel to face the Dragon she had wronged.

As expected and without invitation, Ronon joined her, and Teyla did not have the heart or the courage to send him back. They were likely walking to their deaths, but she was not alone, and she appreciated that. Teyla tried to remember what her grandfather had said about Dragon honour and the ritual of greeting and asking for clemency.

Both of their lives depended on the good humour and forgiving heart of a Dragon. The black lake and black Dragon awaited them.

Shep felt like he had tangled with a herd of G’nash as every inch of him hurt in some way. Yet at the same time, a vibrant energy buoyed him up, and he felt ready to tackle that herd. Stretching out his wings to their full length, letting the tendons and muscles ache with the stretch, Shep yawned and tasted the night air, feeling like he could just float away.

The Grey Forest was thick with life, an abundance of small creatures, deer and other larger mounts. The Knights from Atlantis were searching for him, their heavy metallic scent distinctive against the fresher more earthy smells of the forest. It was difficult to tell how close or far they were as the scent was pervasive in the air, the strange sense of Atlantis tickling his mind but not providing any clear indication of direction.

Dropping down, wincing as the muscles in his leg protested the movement, Shep nosed Cam again. His friend was out for the count, lost to a dreamless, exhausted sleep, his frail human form lax and boneless. “Fool,” Shep rumbled softly, kindly. Trust Cam to tap out his own strength in a pointless effort to keep a friend alive. Even with Cam’s strength surging through him, Shep could feel the cold, merciless touch of the Bane coursing through his veins. No matter Cam’s keen efforts, it was too late, the poison was in his blood, and would slowly, agonisingly suffocate the oxygen in his organs, veins, and muscles. It was a horrible way to die, the Gou’ald’s ideal punishment for their mortal enemies.

Trying not to dwell on his impending death, even if at the moment he was feeling  much better, Shep shifted the gravel around Cam, so that he might lay more comfortably.  At least Shep would be able to get Cam to safety before any nosey, gung-ho knights found them. The lake was too close to Atlantis to give any sort of comfort for not being discovered. In truth, Shep hoped that he would have enough strength to take off – the hold of gravity would be difficult to break even with the additional boost from Cam. His injury, the Bane, and his underlying exhaustion would not make it easy to run.

Maybe if he...

Abruptly the scent of humans sharpened and distinct sounds of footfalls alerted Shep. Snaking his head to the left, Shep spotted two knights. No, one knight and a scholar emerging from the forest’s edge to the west, making their way towards him. Even from here, Shep could see the soft glowing sigil on the Knight’s chest – the mark of peace, friendship, and parlay. Unbidden, a growl rose from his chest, and it rumbled out in the utterly still night. Parlay! A fine time to parlay after they had already attacked him.

The desire to flame, claw, and bite overwhelmed the more prudent call to simply take off with Cam. Shep wanted some satisfaction first. Moving forward, so that he blocked Cam from view, his wings outstretched and ready for battle, he growled again, not quite daring a roar lest more knights were close. He instinctively made himself as large as possible, neck spines rising, wings raised, tail sweeping back and forth. Jaws open, teeth bared, Shep snarled again.

The pair walked closer, undaunted by his challenge even though they slowed slightly.   The moment they were in ear shot, the Athosian Knight called out clearly, “Peace, Good Dragon. Peace. We sue for peace.”

“It’s a little late for that, knight!” Shep snarled ignoring the ritual she was trying to engage.  Good manners be flamed.

He could not fault their courage though, as they stepped close enough that if he flamed, they would die in an instant. Sir Teyla of Athos bowed low, her long warrior’s que touching the gravel ground, her neck exposed to a blade, or in his case, his bite. “Master Dragon, Jhepard-shon. We seek and ask for your forgiveness. We did not intend or desire...”

Shep was distracted immediately and intently listened to more noises within the forest. Burning some magic, he sensed the cowardly little knight and a few others waiting on the outskirts of trees, waiting to ambush him again, no doubt.  More importantly, there was other movement:  more knights, further away.

Roaring, Shep closed the distance between them, knocking the Scholar flying and pinning the Athosian under his hand, claws caging her neatly in a single precise move. Snarling, uncaring of the salvia that sprayed her, he cried, “I never expected Athosian honour to be sold so cheaply. Speaking of peace while your friends draw near to attack!”

Not resisting his hold, Teyla peered up through his talons and shook her head. “No, no. They simply wait, wait for our discussion, I swear it.”

A concussive missile rocketed out of the forest, heading straight towards Shep, who narrowly missed it by scrambling aside. The missile landed in the lake and exploded in a tower of water, drenching everyone on the shore.  Suddenly free, Teyla scrambled to her feet, face red with anger.  She shouted at Rodney, “What in the name of the Goddess?” Another missile, then a third arced out of the forest straight at Shep. Flaring his wings, Shep roared, flaming both missiles, which exploded mid-flight. The concussive blast knocked him back, rear legs skittering for purchase on the gravel. Unknown to Shep his talons came perilously close to Cam’s unconscious body, and he was too caught up in the attack to remember his friend.

Teyla though noted it and ran forward, pulling Cam out of harm’s way. She yelled at the forest, thinking it was Rodney, “Stop! What are you doing?” As if in reply, seven knights – Lord Sumner and his men- burst out of the forest and charged Jhepard-shon.

“No!” Teyla cried.

Shep roared with vindicated pleasure and charged at them in return, spewing forth flame, ready to do battle. As the fire hit the knights, a soft blue ward prevented the flames from reaching them, but Shep simply used the opportunity to close the distance and knocked the spell-caster off his moose mount.

Stunned and furious with Sumner and despairing of ever repairing good relations with the Dragon, Teyla was torn as to her next course of action. Frozen, she stood on the shore of the lake, watching as the Dragon barreled into the charging knights, talons and tail flashing in the moonlight. Ronon, as usual, solved her dilemma and cried, “Quick, grab the man and follow me.” Mutely, Teyla stared at the stranger at her feet, his blonde hair blowing across his face. Hefting his not inconsiderable weight, Teyla drew on her strength and followed Ronon back towards their friends, looking behind her as she ran.

Rodney and the others had gathered at the edge of the forest watching the battle with stunned and horrified expressions.  Teyla joined them and gently laid the stranger down near her Tiger. Rodney hissed in exasperation, “Where the hell did Sumner come from?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “But any hope we had of a peaceful resolution has departed.”

“We would do well to leave, Sir Teyla,” Lorne murmured. “If Sumner prevails, we should be on our way. If he fails...”

Torn, Teyla nodded, wishing instead to go and lend the Dragon some aid. As she watched though, Jhepard-shon let loose a torrent of flame that encompassed the Knights. He would probably prevail, unless they had thought to bring meldosweet.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Maybe he will follow us once the battle is done, and we will have a chance to parlay.”

Rodney, Carson, and Radek stared at her in horror.

Without giving it real thought, Shep instinctively tried to take off to gain an even greater advantage in the battle, escape far from his mind. As he pressed down on his aggravated wound, his leg crumpled, and he awkwardly stumbled, nearly clipping one of the knights with his wing. Recovering, snarling with the pain and frustration of it all, Shep snaked out and grabbed a random knight tossing him off his mount and back towards the forest. The knight fell without a word, and landed dully. The other knights scattered, wheeling their mounts for a multi-pronged attack, their wards failing under his continued fire.

But with only five men still astride their steeds, Shep had more than enough limbs to deal with each threat. He whipped his tail around with a sharp flick and knocked a knight and its steed into the lake with a resounding splash. He might be unable to take off, but his wings were effective on the ground too. His left wing protected his wound and with the other he batted at two knights who were trying to approach from inside his blind spot.

One of those knights tried shooting magically induced missiles at him – smaller ones than the concussive ball of flame of before, but Shep shrugged those off with barely any effort, the magic ineffective.  The arrows that flew at his face were a more serious threat. Shep roared and charged the archer, his greater reach and movement faster than the knights anticipated, even as they harried his sides.

Losing patience, Shep moved like lightning and snatched up the massive horse of the archer and crunched into its belly, its death squeal lost in the flood of hot blood down his throat. The blood burnt, not from the heat but due to the Bane sores already forming in his throat. Shep was more concerned with the grim knight that held on, despite his leg being pinned by one of Shep’s teeth.  The brave idiot was trying to stab him with a dagger, the blade glancing off his tough hide.

Glaring into the knight’s face, Shep dismissively tossed the dead horse and injured rider far into the forest. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied one of the lizard’s trying to attack his hamstring, hoping to capitalise on his distraction. Kicking back, he sliced open both beast and knight.  The knight’s chainmail saved him from being eviscerated, but the lizard collapsed in a spray of blood, its guts spilling out onto the ground.

Several of the unseated knights were running at him, foolish and brave to the last, their cries loud, swords raised. Angrily he tail-whipped one into the lake, picked up the other, and hurled it into the forest further than any other.

One last knight remained, wielding a long spear as he sat astride a great wolf. The wolf snapped and snarled at him, and the knight charged with a great shout. Instinct screamed at Shep to just flame the idiot and be done with the lot of them, but long held traditions and promises, hell his very honour stayed him from cooking him in his armour. Casually, he backhanded the knight off the wolf, and then picked up the wolf and tossed it into the lake. It landed very near the other knights who were struggling in their armour, dousing them with more water.

The little knight fearlessly got to its feet and charged alone, spear aimed for what it assumed was the dragon’s heart. Feeling a wave of exhaustion building, Shep waited for it to get close enough and batted it into the lake like he was playing conkers. One or two fire blasts at knights wielding wards was one thing, but crunching down on an intelligent being was another, no matter how angry he was.

Victorious, Shep surveyed what was left of his enemies. Most were struggling in the lake, and the rest were somewhere in the forest, hopefully stuck in a tree or two. Now was the time to grab Cam and get the sharding hell out of here...

Blinking Shep felt his stomachs twist with raw emotion. Cam? Where was Cam? He’d lost track of him in the battle and for a terrible series of heartbeats, Shep feared he had unwittingly clawed or stepped on his friend. With a careful turn, Shep scanned the ground, terrified of hurting Cam in his vulnerable state.  After a desperate search of the gravel, his pupils wide to utilise all of the moonlight, he was delighted to find no torn or mangled frame, but terrified not to find anything at all. 

Distant hoof beats reached his senses, and Shep strained his magic a little to pick up the hasty retreat of the Athosian and her party. They were too far away to see clearly, and he couldn’t hear Cam crying out for help.  But ... did they? Did they have Cam?

Ignoring the massive hurt from the pressure, Shep raised himself up onto his rear legs, stretched out his wings, and drew in deep lung fulls of air. His Bane- clogged lungs felt as if sacks of sludge had been shoved into his chest; it hurt in a deep, urgent way breathing like this. Uncaring, Shep pushed through the pain and scented the air as much as he could.  The soft smell of a Dragonborn in human form in the air was faint but stronger near the lake where Cam had rested.  The scent was also with the Athosian’s group now.

That was enough for Shep.   Roaring in anger and beating his wings in fury, he scattered fine gravel and dirt in all directions.

There was just one small problem. He couldn’t take off.

Checking on the wet knights who were still struggling to shore, Shep paused to consider his options. He had to pursue; he had to rescue Cam that was certain. Cam had done the same for him, and there was no way he was leaving his friend to the mercies of the Atlanteans. Cam’s loaned dragon strength was already fading, spent in the battle, with the insidious touch of the Bane reaching up through his veins still there. By the Ancients, how was he supposed to follow and rescue Cam like this?

A single tree four feet into the forest was burning. One of the missiles must have caught its leaves as it fell and set it alight. Pressed for time and ideas Shep reluctantly went with the only inspiration he had, a dangerous one. Breathing in as deep as he could, he exhaled a long, slow thread of fire at the nearest trees growing near the lake. Not even extremely green wood could withstand dragon flame for long, and an entire line of trees caught fire. Flaring his wings, Shep fanned the blaze and more trees caught alight.

It was risky drawing energy from fire – like to like, flame to dragon. It was too easy to draw too much in, to mistake the energy flows as one’s own, and suddenly find yourself without a scrap of power mid-flight.  Cam’s life was in danger the moment the knights put two and two together and figured out who he was. Shep had to rescue him.

Ignoring the ache within, Shep began absorbing the fire’s energy, trying to keep the flow steady and not overwhelm his reserves. It was difficult, both because of the abundance and ease of the raw power, and his split focus on the knights.  Although they were currently out of the way, the shore was not an impossible distance to swim, even in armour.

The rush of power was completely different from Cam’s earlier donation – raw and wild, unframed in intent and purpose. It felt magnificent, wonderful. The fire in the forest slowly died, and Shep began to glow with the ambient stolen energy.

As the last burnt tree flickered into a blackened mess, Shep gracefully pushed against the ground for lift off and beat with purpose, defying gravity with ease.  Shep soon cleared the forest canopy and sped off in the direction of Atlantis and the treacherous Athosian knight.

He let out a long, angry bugle that rattled the forest and sent long plumes of birds into the air, disturbed from their slumber.

Chapter 4

“Are you insane?” Rodney shouted over his shoulder as he urged Aggy to a speed greater than her aged legs could muster. A long dragon roar echoed through the Grey Forest, and Rodney kneed Aggy desperately, adrenalin tinged fear racing through him. She determinedly ignored him and trotted on in her moderate run.

Teyla, behind him, did not answer.  Her face was set with grim determination as she lay low over her running Tiger. Fortunately, all of the mounts could maintain Aggy’s haphazard pace, even Ronon’s Battle Tortoise. As expected, the Miniature Elephant was bringing up the rear, struggling to keep up loaded with Carson, Radek, and their paraphernalia. Evan streaked ahead of them, his Great Elk easily out distancing them all. Lucky bastard.

Then an idea hit him upside the head like his old Uncle Bill used to when he was a child. Turning in his saddle, trusting Aggy to avoid low hanging branches, Rodney yelled at Carson, “Open up a blasted portal, Carson. Straight to Atlantis!”

The rat faced Zech hit Carson with a book, no doubt berating his friend for not thinking of that sooner. Ignoring Radek, Carson scowled at them both and shouted over the thunder of the elephant’s running feet, “I’ve not had to cast a portal whilst running for me life, McKay! It’s not a simple matter!”

“No time like the present to learn, Nitwit!” Radek yelled something in Zech as well, probably matching Rodney’s ire.

Rodney would have tried to cast a portal himself, but his portals had a habit of wandering to locations unplanned-like underwater- when they were not anchored by way point.   Besides, the calculations for a portal whilst on the move were tricky and required a focused mind. Shards, Carson was going to send them to the far side of Brother Moon, Rodney thought.

 Behind them, a cut of trees burst into flame and a shadow blacker than the night swept overhead with a roar. The dragon had found them. 

“Carson!” Rodney cried.  Even underwater would be better than here.

Ahead, more trees burst into flame. One exploded like a firework, nearly catching Evan in the blast. Cursing, Lorne turned left, trying to outdistance the fire and prevent them from being trapped. Fortunately, Carson got his ass into gear. A few feet ahead of Lorne the swirling blue of a portal opened, colouring the trees in shades of blue.

Instantly, it swallowed Evan as he charged through. Before Rodney had a chance to check behind him on his friends, he had reached the portal’s edge, and he was sucked inside.  Pulling Aggy up, he whirled to see where the portal had dumped them. Tall, familiar blue spires rose above, the cool music of the Thorian fountains a balm to frayed nerves. Home. The Star Court of Atlantis.

Still whirling with Aggy huffing underneath him, Rodney saw Teyla and then Ronon hurry through the portal. The ragged man Ronon had rescued lay draped over his tortoise still senseless to the favour they’d done him – saving him from being a dragon’s midnight snack.

Last, Bertie rumbled through, huffing like a toy rail-machine with Carson and Radek squealing like a pair of weypiglets on his back. “Close it, close it, you fool!”

“You opened it!”

Before Carson could wrap his woolly Gaelic head around the notion of undoing what was cast, a torrent of fire red coloured the portal, heralding the imminent arrival of a massive dragon and its flame. With a squeak, Carson frantically closed the portal with a resounding snap. The event horizon glowed red with residual energy, but no dragon emerged.

“Cutting it a tad close there, Mage Beckett,” A red-faced Sir Evan drawled, leaning forward on his elk, arms draped over its neck.

“Aye, aye, but I closed it,” Carson beamed, wiping his beading forehead with his sleeve. Radek had collapsed on his back and was fanning himself with a piece of parchment, while muttering under his breath. Bertie, their elephant, was panting loudly but picking at a few night blooming flowers with his small trunk.

There were sounds of running footsteps and calls to arms all around them, so their arrival had been noticed. The alarm was uncalled for as only Atlantean Mages could open portals into Atlantis proper.  Rodney bristled at the implied insult even though he was glad that they had arrived with a fanfare. In the tense silence before more people joined them, Rodney turned to Teyla, who sat motionless on her tiger, face shut off and distant in expression.

“What in the hell happened to peaceful negotiations?”

Ronon answered, “Sumner happened.”

Rodney snorted, “I saw that, but the flaming dragon was hardly responding well to your ritual.  Where in the hell is the other one?” Teyla refused to look at him, studying the bridle in her hands instead.

Face flushed with emotion, Radek sat up and barked, “Isn’t one dragon enough, McKay?”

“All well and fine until it joins that black brute in tearing Atlantis apart!” Rodney spluttered, ignoring the spray of salvia that burst from his lips as he spoke. No one answered him, and McKay huffed in response.

An array of Atlantean knights arrived – the Veil Guard, the Queen’s Guard, and even the Princess’s personal Guard. The city was certainly on edge, and Princess Samantha had arrived with her soldiers Silence fell over the group as she strode forward, battle armour ready, beautiful in the full moonlight.

“Rodney, what’s all this?” she said stiffly, eyes studying their still panting group.

Squirming a little, McKay straightened and reported politely, “We found the Dragon, Princess...”

Samantha cut him off, clearly impatient, “Where is it? Certainly not here...”

“Oh, it’s coming, Sa... Princess, sir. It attacked Sumner and then chased us. It was hot on our heels... I’m sure it’ll follow.” Rodney trailed off because in truth he was not certain, and Sam’s expression was not impressed. As that realisation dawned on him, he tried not to let it show on his face.  Ever attuned to his reactions, Sam frowned. “Not necessarily, eh, Rodney?”

“Ah,” he gulped.

“Actually, Princess. I think it’s almost a guarantee the dragon, Jhepard-shon, will come to Atlantis.”

All eyes turned to Ronon, who gracefully slid off his tortoise, sandaled feet landing gently on the cobbles. Shaking his long hair and straightening his robes, he met the Princess’s stern gaze with a confident calm.

“He’ll come because of him.” He raised a hand to the silent and unconscious almost-snack. Only the snack was awake and was looking around in confused consternation, slowly sitting up on the back of the tortoise.

“I don’t think the dragon is so attached to a potential meal...” Rodney heard himself mutter before his brain could tell his mouth to shut up as Teyla shot him a glare.

Princess Samantha was studying the man on the tortoise with a keen, discerning eye. Ronon was now pointing at the singing fountains. The Thorian fountains were normally dark pools of song at night, perfect fixtures for couples keen on hidden romance. Now they were glowing from within, a deep, electric blue light in the middle of each fountain. That was not all.  A handful of small apertures and decorative designs  no one had even realized were light fixtures  were illuminated in a similar blue all around the greater Court area.

Studying the glowing fountains and glowering man, Samantha quietly ordered, “Bind him and take him to the central tower.”

Her Guard moved swiftly to obey, and the stranger did not protest or struggle as he was bound and hurried away. Almost immediately after his departure, the lights in the fountains began to fade and vanish as if they were imaginary. In the distance as the Guard escorted the man towards the tower, the occasional light illuminated with his passage.

“Well done, Ronon... and you, McKay,” Princess Samantha nodded, her face relaxing slightly. “Maybe there is hope yet.”

Rodney stared in confusion at both the disappearing stranger and Samantha. The dawn of an idea was tickling the window panes of his mind. Could it be? Before the idea could blossom, Rodney felt the wind knocked out of him as the Princess barked, “Bind Sir Teyla as well. Escort her to the brig.”

Without protest, Teyla bowed low and submitted to the escort of her own Guard and left without saying a word. Her boot steps echoed loudly in the Court, the area now completely dark save for the signal lights from the citadel towers. Everyone else including Samantha left thereafter, returning to their interrupted duties leaving Rodney, Ronon, Evan, Carson and Radek alone in the quiet, now dark corner of the Court.

“I feel like I’m missing something important,” Carson muttered, patting a scroll against his chin.

They all nodded. Rodney had a sneaky suspicion, and he did not like the implications. Not one bit. Without looking at Ronon, he said, “Dex, are you ready to share your thoughts yet?” Ronon always had some crazy theory floating around his head.   For once Rodney thought the one that had hatched in his brain might rival Ronon’s.

“I need to check out some books first,” Ronon replied.

Rodney huffed loudly and wanted to do the same, but his priority lay in checking on the construction of his Mechanicals. Peculiar mysteries could wait. “Carson, Radek, come. We need to check on that idiot Kavanaugh before he ruins my designs.”

“Our designs!”

Tipping his absent helm to Ronon and Evan, Rodney urged Aggy towards the stables.  Later there would be time enough to figure out the mystery. If they survived the Dragon. And the Asurans.

Rodney fought the compulsion to laugh hysterically.

*sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon* sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon* sga*dragon*sga*dragon*sga*dragon

Shep tore through the air, flying as skillfully as he knew how, utilising each and every current to his advantage, streaking like a blur through the air, maximising his speed.

The cowardly Atlanteans may have escaped him through a cursed portal, but he knew exactly where they had taken Cam.

Already the spires of Atlantis were distant pin pricks on the horizon. He’d be there soon.

He was racing the dawn, the sun pinking the horizon over the ocean, which glistened in night blackened gloom, twinkling like the heavens above. It was not just the sun he raced. He had to time this just right – reach Atlantis with enough strength to rip it apart and find Cam – before his twice borrowed energy ran out.

And death claimed him.

He bugled long and deep, exulting in the glory and rush of his final flight.

Cam was beyond concerned. What in the hell had happened? One minute he was by the lake with Shep and now he was in Atlantis, captured and being dragged who the shards knew where. Fortunately, he regained consciousness in time to realise that Shep was both alive and chasing after him. At least, that’s what he hoped the fire attack on the portal meant, but the humans also confirmed Shep being well enough to pursue them.

It meant there was a smidgen of hope that rescue was possible, but only a smidgen. Shep was in no condition to be fighting off hundreds of knights just to reach one friend. It wouldn’t stop him from trying, though.

A little more worrying though was the way Atlantis was reacting to him. As the soldiers hauled him through massive flights of stairs, odd designs illuminated, whether on the floor, wall, or ceiling. The men kept shooting him worried looks, but Cam had no real answer he’d care to give. The City was obviously not as dead as so many believed.

Eventually after what seemed like miles of stairs and corridors, they reached their destination, a large room in the highest spire. Judging by the trappings and decorations, it was a fairly important and ceremonial room. Lots of pomp and circumstance happened here. It was the throne room, if the large throne- like chair in the middle was any indication.

Here only two lights illuminated as he entered, both hidden behind tapestries. Now that they had arrived, the guards were at a loss as to what to do. They paused in the middle of the long carpet leading to the throne, looked at each other, and stopped.

The ropes around his wrists were tight and secure, and Cam still felt groggy and woozy from passing out earlier and would have appreciated a chair or something.  Neither guard spoke to him, and Cam certainly wasn’t going to say anything, not yet. Even if he really wanted to quip something about the odd expression one of the kings had in a tapestry close by. The guy looked positively pained. Either it was an accurate reflection of the moment in history (and oh boy, did Cam want to hear that story), or the King had pissed off the artist who did the tapestry.

The blonde princess strode into the room followed by several more knights, her long legs quickly eating up the length of the room. She was kind of hot for a human, and Cam appreciated the fire in her eyes as she studied him.

“Who are you?” she said standing in front of him, hands on her hips, hair highlighted by the torchlight. Cam stared blankly back at her and said nothing. Her gaze intensified, eyes narrowing with anger. “Who are you?”

There was no point lying to her – Atlantis had betrayed any chance he had at laying low and pleading ignorance and or gratitude for being saved from being a dragon’s meal.  At the time he’d been too stunned to lay the ground work for being an innocent bystander, and now the soft, glowing blue lights were screaming ‘not normal!’. Instead Cam went with silence. Might not be a smartest route, but at least it was safest for now. The less said, the better.

The princess continued to stare at him, her lips thin with anger. “Put him on the throne.” Startled, Cam was dragged towards the throne and roughly shoved into the seat. As his rear touched the hard surface, a dozen more lights activated in the room. The Princess was staring at him intently as if expecting something more.

Confused, Cam stared back and waited.

After several seconds, the princess walked forward and said, “Think about waking up.”

Huh? Cam thought. But his thoughts, directed by her words, were already tumbling around the idea of waking up and why it was important. The penny dropped, and Cam nearly laughed out loud. They were trying to wake Atlantis.

As expected, nothing further happened, and Cam resisted the urge to laugh and tell the Princess she was out of luck. Dragonborn had zero chance of interacting with an Ancient City beyond a surface buzz,  but he stayed silent and waited.

Frustrated, the Princess shook her head and said loudly, “Enough. Take him to the secure cell on eleven.”  She turned on her heel and strode out of the room, her boots ringing on the stones. The guards manhandled Cam out of the chair, down the stairs, and out of the room, their grip hard on his arms. Cam did not resist and as the door to the little room slammed close, he let out the smile that had been pressing down on him.

“Well, well, well,” he whispered. Now he knew exactly why they had wanted a dragon.

She hadn’t slept, tension and nerves kept her moving, pacing in her chambers.  Near dawn she had felt the urge, the need to dress – and so she had pulled on her armour. It suited her mood, and the tension in the air.

Elizabeth sipped a soothing cup of Freeling tea and watched the sun rise over the Bay. Below her, the city was awakening. Or rather some of it was. Most of her army and the various Guards had been busy all night between preparations, construction and late night arrivals. Even with all of the warning they had had, Atlantis was still not fighting fit. Too much of the city lay in a dilapidated state, the walls weak in too many places. Several large mechanical soldiers were already on the battlements facing out towards the potential threat of the Asuran fleet, their metal reflecting slightly in the predawn light. They were probably not going to be enough but would certainly help.

This moment, caught between dawn and night, between action and sleep, this pause between breath and inhalation, felt like being poised on the crest of a wave. Elizabeth felt like she was hanging on a precipice and at any moment she would fall. Or find her feet.

A gentle knock broke her musings, and she called out, “Enter.”

With purpose in her step, Samantha strode in, nodding in respect. She did not wait for leave to speak, her cause too urgent, and blurted out, “It did not work, My Queen. He sat down on the chair and nothing happened. But... the city does seem to acknowledge or recognise him. The lights indicate that.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes, defeat clawing at her stomach, seeding her heart with despair. “Turning on lights is not enough, Sam.” She had felt such hope when Samantha told her of the City’s response to this stranger – this silent man.

“The City fairly hummed when the Black Dragon was here, Majesty. We both felt it.”  What irony was that those charged with the City’s protection, and who best felt the stirring of the City at times – had been outshone by a Dragon.

Nodding, Elizabeth put down her tea and faced her general. “Samantha, we need more than a hum. Do we have any idea why the City responds so to them?”

Perhaps desperate in her own way, still needing to hold onto their fragile hope, Sam interrupted her, “Ronon, the scholar, Majesty, he has a theory. He... he seems to think that the man we have in the Tower is... a different type of dragon, as it were. He at least seems to have grasped the theory of Daniel’s ranting. If that man is truly a Dragon, somehow...”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in wry amusement but was not amused at all. “He’s awfully small for a dragon, dear.”

Huffing in shared laughter, Sam sighed, “Exactly. Something is peculiar about him though, even if he’s not a dragon. Perhaps he is of the lost line of the Ancients, however unlikely as that is. He is not speaking or co-operating and well, if we only had the Black to at least test or try, we’d be able to....”

Twin cries of alarm rent the pre-dawn air. The sun had barely revealed itself; Sister Moon was still sinking in the north over the mountains. The alarm horns continued to call out in strident, urgent tones, and Samantha and Elizabeth ran to the balcony.

The first cause for alarm was instantly obvious. Somehow, in the stillness and blackness of the night, the Asuran fleet had closed three days travel into one night, and thirty massive ships were approaching the bay. All that much needed preparation time was lost:  they were out of time. Fortunately, the ships were still out of range of the City with dawn alerting the Atlanteans to their presence.   But it didn’t matter – the City was not ready to repel this kind of attack.

A burst of rushed air and a black blur obscured their view for an instant.   A spine-chilling bugle sounded over the city as if challenging the horns and sirens of alarm for supremacy. This was followed by a blast of fire at one of the turrets of Guards. Only glimpsed, it was still a certainty – the Black Dragon was here. 

Of all the luck. Elizabeth thought to herself:  a mixture of bad and worse luck with maybe a morsel of good. Asur was here and there was no more time for doubts.

She nodded at Samantha and ordered, “Go, defend the city. Do not let them overrun us. Give - buy me some time. Use McKay’s mechanicals to stall the Asurans.  Don’t use our soldiers for as long as possible.”

Samantha stared into her eyes for a long moment, perhaps searching for signs of fear or doubt or maybe just reassurance.  Finally, with a firm nod she ran off to do what she did best - find a miracle in the worst of situations.

Elizabeth sighed to herself, “Leave the Dragon to me.”

 The mighty beast flew past her balcony again, flaming the inner wall, sending her soldiers running. Grabbing her sword and taking a second to check her armour, Elizabeth ran out of her room, calling as she did, “Bring Daniel and the stranger to the throne room. Now!”

The corridors and halls of Atlantis were instantly awash with people running to battle stations, servants and non-essential citizenry running for the safety of the ground floors. They all stepped aside for their Queen as she ran past, many of them nodding in respect and wishing her well. Elizabeth nodded in return, but did not pause.

It was a long run down to the throne room through many stairs ,and she arrived at the same time as Janet and Daniel. Peter and Charles from her Guard were already in the room, anxiously guarding the stranger, who was scanning the rush and scramble to arms with an expression equal parts  amused and concerned.

Torren and Halling of the Veil Guard were in place, no doubt ready to defend the way points of the city should Asur try and use that avenue to attack.  The solid, shimmering presence of the Veil was not in evidence, and Elizabeth felt a shiver of fear run through her.

The throne room was mid-way up the central tower and had an incredible view of the city below, Lantea Bay, and deep vast Pegasus Ocean. Atlantis was truly the fairest city in all the realm of Equestria, and her ancestors had chosen this room both for the view and the throne contained therein as their seat of power. It impressed upon any visitor of state the might of Atlantis. When the dragon outside bugled loudly in challenge, and the first crash of the Asuran assault echoed through the city, everyone in the room looked out of the floor to ceiling windows.

The lofty vantage allowed Elizabeth to watch an array of missiles hurled from the Asuran ships crash into the walls, towers, and homes of her people. The tower was high enough that none of the missiles reached them, but the shudder that ran through the city rumbled beneath their feet as well.

“Halling, why is the Veil not in place?” Elizabeth cried, striding further into the room, motioning at the Veil’s absence. His face grim, his expression clearly indicating his unhappiness, Halling bowed low. “Majesty, Sir Teyla still holds the Key. It is a lengthy process to transfer the Key from a living Captain to another.” He trailed off, uncertain how to offer a remedy.

Cursing softly, Elizabeth rounded on her guard who waited her orders. “Send every spare warrior down to the princess. Bates, bring Teyla to me, now. The rest of you, secure the tower and take up your battle stations.”

Each soldier nodded and ran off to do her bidding, leaving only Peter and Charles behind with their prisoner. Daniel was muttering to himself in a corner, his face pressed against the large window, staring at the battle below.

Now that she was here, Elizabeth found herself at a loss as to what to do. She, the city, her people, needed the Black Dragon. Another volley of missiles hit the city, the Battle Mages’ wards turning aside a few, but too many landed. How was she supposed to stop the Dragon from damaging the City, draw its attention and somehow – somehow persuade it to help? Even if that help was simply attacking the Asurans instead of them. 

There was one avenue for answers standing sullenly in the room with his arms bound behind him. Striding over to the stranger, Elizabeth stared at him. “Who are you?”

With a guarded expression, the man stared back at her like no man in Atlantis ever had, directly into her eyes, unafraid of who she was and what she represented. Not even a visiting Ambassador had ever met her eyes with such frank appraisal, with such condemnation in their eyes. With his cool blue eyes and dark golden hair, there was nothing that exuded dragon about this man, yet at the same time something uncomfortable stirred with Elizabeth – a worm of shame.

The man’s gaze was too knowing, was too certain for a mere farmer or soldier. No, there was something that tickled her mind, something akin to the brief touches she felt from Atlantis. A suspicion bloomed – a wild, crazy idea, but her life was filled with crazy ideas right now.

“Catchell-meron?”

His smirk was brief and cheeky, and Elizabeth almost reached out to touch him, half afraid he would up and fly away instantly. Was it, could it be true?

“Pellem suam iacet,” Daniel muttered from his side of the room, eyes still gazing below, but his right hand was waving at them – at the stranger, at Catchell-meron, the gold dragon who had challenged her Court, and rescued the
Black Dragon, Jhepard-shon.

Her mind racing with possibilities, plans, desperate hopes, Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but was derailed as Teyla, under Bates’ guard, arrived in the Throne Room. Even stripped of her blue and gold armour, Teyla exuded quiet, calm competence. Brief anger flared within Elizabeth at Teyla’s betrayal, but there was no time for recriminations and argument. “The Veil please, Sir Teyla.”

Nodding and bowing low, Teyla took hold of her sword, which Bates had brought with him. Instantly the Veil, the massive ward that prevented non-Atlanteans from drawing waypoints or opening portals into the City, flared to life. Its shimmering blue flicker, so similar to the way point, covered the throne room and hopefully the rest of the city. It had been and would remain a security risk:  the Veil needed to be reset every dawn without fail.

Elizabeth noted Teyla’s gaze, not directed to the city in peril, but to the man, the dragon standing in their midst. For a second, Elizabeth thought she saw something pass between them, an acknowledgement, a flash of communication.   Perhaps she was being overly suspicious. In the midst of these thoughts,  she was distracted as Rodney and his friends, including her court painter, bustled into the Throne Room, uninvited.

“Sir McKay! What....”

Rodney’s face was bright red, his armour in disarray, and he blurted, “The Asurans have breached the first wall.   The wards are failing on all sides, My Queen. The Princess asks for more ... Watch out!”

McKay pointed behind them towards the broad shimmering windows.   Instinctively Elizabeth turned just in time to see a night-born terror, wingspan blocking out the sun, hurtling towards the windows. “Run!”

Everyone but Daniel scattered for cover. In the spilt second before dragon hit the glass, Daniel reached up, his hand pressed on the glass, and sighed happily, “Draco prisco sanguine.” No one heard him though.

He and the glass went flying as the incredible form of the Dragon crashed through the window and barrelled into the Throne Room. The room was the largest in the tower, bar the entry way at the base.  The tower was hardly a diminutive structure either, but not in living memory had anything so completely and utterly filled the room as the dragon did, as it righted itself and flared out its wings, limbs and tail for balance – and intimidation, no doubt.

Elizabeth had sought cover at the far end of the room, near the open double doors, her sword drawn and ready. Peter and Charles stood unwavering beside her, their prisoner on his knees, head bowed beneath their blades. The dragon roared, a mighty sound that broke the remainder of the windows, exposing the whole room to the wind and sounds of battle outside. It turned towards them, massive mouth open, teeth flashing and snarled, “Release him!”

Bravely stepping forward, sword ready but not directed at him, Elizabeth took a depth breath and cried out, “Wait, please! You may be able to kill us all with one roar, Jhepard-shon, but your friend will die just as quickly.”

In response, Peter pressed down on his blade, its edge biting into the soft skin of Catchell-meron’s neck. Neither dragon made a sound, but Elizabeth felt a shiver run through her as the black dragon glowered at her, his eyes piercing in their intensity, its hot breath wafting over her. The moment hung between them, and Elizabeth fought the distraction of checking on her city with the overwhelming terror of staring down a dragon. There was a lot of activity on the second wall, explosions and the flares of spells and wards, but the dragon was right there.

Jhepard-shon glowered at her, his attention unshaken. “Speak, Queen. Your city is under attack. What do you want?”

Now, standing before a dragon, a beast of so much legend and myth, one who even scholars had dismissed as extinct, Elizabeth found that her plan was mad - insane. Woolsey was right – it was an impossible idea.

A concussive wave rocked the city nearly knocked her off her feet, and Elizabeth felt her stomach drop as the second wall fell, crumbling like dust from this distance.

Out of time and out of options, Elizabeth faced the Dragon and shoved her pride aside, “We need your help.”

Chapter 5

The brig was muted and quiet, the thick stone preventing sound from travelling down into the cool confines of the lower levels of the Citadel. The wards of the brig were understood by none of the mages, and it was rare that any monarch of the city allowed one of them to study them. It was hardly prudent allowing someone, anyone, the opportunity to study the workings of a prison which might one day hold them.

Teyla sat cross-legged in the middle of the cell that held her, trying to find a measure of peace and serenity. It was a difficult exercise as her mind and emotions were still in turmoil – mostly due to the Dragons, but also due to the impending invasion. If Atlantis fell, it would not take Asur long to reach the other Southern Realms that bordered Equestria. Athos, Sateda, Hoth – all would fall as none had even half the defences of Atlantis.

Yet her honour was screaming at her that their and by pure direct correlation, her actions towards the Dragons were... unconscionable. Unfair. Wrong.

She wasn’t entirely sure why the Queen wanted the Dragon, but Teyla recalled enough of her own people’s legends to put two and two together. The Dragons hailed from the days of the Ancients. Atlantis was an Ancient City – a city that barely remembered or resembled the one of the Ancients, but an Ancient City nonetheless. Legends held that the City once shone with an inner light and lived and breathed as if it were alive itself.  In all the years since the Atlanteans had come, journeying from the North thousands of years ago, the City had been silent – beautiful but silent.

Legends were just legends. Myths were stories mingled with fact but so badly mangled not even scholars could sort out truth from fancy at times. There were parts of the city in serious disrepair, as damage from storms went unchecked and neglect and ignorance failed other sections. Atlantis was the crowning jewel of Equestria but was in serious need of a polish in some areas.

Teyla sighed and tried to order her feelings. She would need to be calm when she faced the Queen. No matter how angry Elizabeth was, she still needed the Captain of the Veil, and Teyla was still Captain. Being in the brig did not automatically transfer her Key to Halling.

She heard the attack start before Halling, and Torren reached her, their faces set with grim determination. She needed no words to reassure them, only time and the aftermath of this battle would resolve the issue of the Veil Guard Captaincy. Together they ran to the Throne Room, a run that seemed longer than usual through strangely empty halls and corridors. As they entered the Throne Room, the view of the City that greeted them was frightful – the defences already hard pressed by the Asuran Fleet in the Bay.

Elizabeth radiated stern determined anger, and as Teyla activated the Veil for the new day, she could not but help reach out to the City itself. Atlantis was a strange city, though it felt so familiar at times, like an old friend especially at Dawn when Teyla activated the Veil. Sometimes it was almost as if something waited within the City, waited for her each morning and greeted her with a smile.

As the Veil initiated, Teyla felt the Black Dragon sweeping the city, a search spell bouncing off the Veil. Giving it no more thought that ‘I must!’ she sent a small message through the Veil.

“Here”.

It was perhaps her imagination, but for a second she thought the City flickered in response. Elizabeth certainly noticed though.

Either way, Jhepard-shon was coming.

Atlantis lay below him, a city of blues and greens awash in the early light of the sun as it rose over the ocean. A fleet of ships made their way into the bay, the flags and banners marking them as Asuran. Shep snorted in derision – those silly fools continued to stamp their feet like angry children, determined to prove their superiority to everyone else.

Shep had one goal, and it wasn’t tangling with the Asurans. No, all he wanted was to find Cam and get the shards out of Atlantis and leave it to its fate.

The citizens of Atlantis hurried and scurried through the streets, a stream of people heading away from the harbour and the bay. A much smaller stream of Mechanicals and soldiers were heading towards the City’s walls. Shep roared again, searching for Cam, his locator spell as fine tuned as one could make it when you had to isolate one soul amongst thousands, even if it was as unique as Cam’s.

The hum of Atlantis was loud, especially in the brighter, more stable parts of the City. Although she slept, the City tugged at his senses, whispering and teasing him. His bane- induced state yesterday as he had entered the City for the first time, had drowned out any sense of homecoming or life as he was dragged before the Queen of Atlantis. Now though, chock full of power and life, the City sang mutely, distantly to him.

He ignored it.

Several fool mages shot fireballs and mage-fists at him – their insipid magic sliding off his scales with no effect. The concussive missiles were another matter and although most were directed at the Asurans, the odd catapult and spell-caster took aim at him.  Shep had to keep a weather eye on stray or intentional missiles while he searched, shooting the odd fireball at persistent attackers.

Shep flamed another turret of archers, encouraging them to shoot at targets in the bay. He was running out of time and energy, the effort of the spell and flight badly draining his reserves. Cam’s strength was long gone, and the roar of the fire’s energy was slowing, fading away.

Time was not on his side.

As he banked around one of the tall spires, a flare of magic drew his attention – a ward being activated. It was a powerful ward, one that covered the City entirely.  It felt – familiar, like the touch of an old friend. The ward tried to repulse his spell and succeeded in part.   More importantly, he felt for an instant the clear, logical mind of the caster – the Athosian. Sir Teyla.

Hoping against hope that she was either near Cam or could tell him where he was, Shep turned, wings angled for a steep climb.  He rose towards the central tower, circling it as he aimed for the shine of glass windows. A quick battering spell to break the glass, and Shep flew into a huge room, scattering the puny humans inside, rising to his full height, wings outstretched.

There she was – Teyla, standing unafraid without her armour, sword on the ground looking up at him.  Shep ignored her and instantly found Cam.  His fury at the Athosian vanished as he saw the Queen standing before him – her men’s swords threatening Cam’s life. A quick flame would kill almost everyone without the magic and speed to cast a ward, but Cam would die just as certainly.

“We need your help.”

Shep snarled.

Samantha raised her ward just in time, and a missile directed at her position bounced off it and fell back into the Asuran Iron Soldiers, landing with a massive explosion. The remains of the soldiers, large cracked pieces of armour, lay scattered everywhere.  Where two fell, four took their place. They had lost the first two walls so quickly; she was shaken by the brutality and speed of the Asuran attack.

Now, they defended the third and final wall.   The remainder of her army fought – Battle Mages struggling to maintain wards and attack at the same time. The couple dozen Mechanicals that McKay had designed were proving very handy – withstanding most of the Asur spells and going toe to toe with individual Iron Soldiers very well.   Two dozen Mechanicals versus hundreds of Iron Soldiers were impossible odds.  More Iron Soldiers were disembarking from the Fleet as Asur gained ground with each skirmish lost.

The noise was tremendous, the roar and clamour of the Iron Soldiers, the cannons on the ships all battering her senses. It was difficult to think over the noise, let alone direct her troops. Pockets of defenders were holding strong, Teal’c and his Jaffa especially. The sun was barely risen, the air still fresh, but the beauty of the morning was lost in smoke, fire and ash. The remains of the two walls were still smoking, with the heat of ruined soldiers, burning turrets and lost ground washing over the remaining defenders.

Gritting her teeth, Sam directed a fireball at three Iron Soldiers, disintegrating them on the spot. The Asurans fought a faceless battle, with only their Iron Soldiers were on the battlefield.  There were no visible human soldiers. If there were people on the ships, they remained hidden, perhaps safe behind their own wards. There was a steady fire of missiles and attack spells from the Battleships, so obviously someone was on board. The Iron Soldiers moved with purpose and clear tactical direction, attacking weak points, and exploiting breaches in defences. They acted in concert and individually, relentless in their attack giving neither quarter or relief.

“Hold that position, Teal’c, hold it!” Samantha shouted, sending her voice to her second with a speak spell. Distantly Teal’c nodded, but his position was under serious pressure as missiles from the Fleet pounded the wall beneath him.  The wards above him and Iron Soldiers attacked his men head on. The Asurans were concentrating their attack on the portions of the Walls facing the Bay. The impressive Gates into Atlantis were unchallenged, but it was pointless holding them if Asur breached the City right here. 

Scanning the wall, Samantha wiped her brow refusing to put on her helm – she needed to see to predict the next wave of attack. Rodney had run to summon reinforcements, and they were arriving to bolster the walls, assist the defence. The Battle Mages were still standing – still protecting the citizens of the City, but they would not be able to hold out under the constant onslaught of missiles and spells that battered their efforts without pause or break.

A ragged cheer ran through her army as a concerted effort from the Mages sent a spiraling ball of blue magic into one of the ships where it exploded into red and yellow flames. Sam could feel the effort that spell required.  If that’s what it took to take out a ship, they would never have enough brute strength to overcome the Fleet.

The Asurans responded by redoubling the torrent of spells and missiles directed at the Mages, who nearly buckled beneath the onslaught. How on earth any battalion of mages had so much energy for such an attack was beyond her.

The third wall was already cracked and crumbling in places, quivering beneath her feet. Beyond the wall, the narrow streets of Atlantis waited, and her army could bottleneck the Iron Soldiers in dozens of dead-ends and traps.   Street fighting was costly – in civilian lives. Once an enemy was inside a City, it was so difficult to remove them, so very difficult. Better to hold the wall.

A hail of concussive balls of flame battered the wall, and a series of deep, widening cracks ran across its surface. Sam disintegrated a couple more Asurans, refusing the tug of weariness such prolonged spell casting created.  

The Dragon was gone. She had missed seeing where it went, but Sam hoped to the High Moon that Elizabeth’s plan worked. It was one less enemy to monitor, without it hovering overhead.   It also created a new worry – where had it gone? The Central Tower still stood, looming over the City spires, returning fire from their own scattered concussive missiles battering futilely against the warded ships.

Slashing and stabbing an Iron Soldier that climbed the wall to attack her, Sam cut off its head and kicked if off the wall. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but there was no way she was holding the City by might and magic alone.

“Come on, Elizabeth.” 

It was scant comfort that McKay Manor was on the very edges of the outskirts of the Atlantean countryside. If the City fell, Jeannie and her family would still be in danger. It was a no brainer -  staying and fighting – the battle had to be won in Atlantis. After a terrifying but thankfully brief time on the Walls, McKay found himself facing down the Black Dragon – again. Granted its attention was on the Queen, but McKay still felt a measure of responsibility to make sure this worked – whatever ‘it’ was.

Judging by the presence of the madman Daniel and the stranger they had rescued in the forest, McKay’s suspicions were right. The Queen and the Princess were hoping to high hell that Daniel’s ridiculous ramblings were correct – that Atlantis still had a connection to the Ancients who had built her – and that connection was now with the Dragons.

McKay had never felt the supposed hum of Atlantis, but Carson had – he swore by it. Whatever the hum meant, Rodney was appalled that Elizabeth was pinning their future on the wild dreams of a man who had been eccentric before he lost his mind. For years Daniel had been obsessed with lunatic ideas about the Ancients and their lost records.  To concoct a notion, even before he descended into incoherency, that Dragons were the Ancients well, Daniel made Rodney look like a reasonable, well balanced individual at times. 

“We need your help.”

Rodney nodded minutely agreeing with Elizabeth but trying not to draw attention to himself. Oh shards, they did. The Asurans were pummelling the army outside.

In the silence that fell, the Dragon snarled, and every knight in the room who still had a sheathed weapon drew their sword. Daniel lay unconscious near the dragon, a tangled sprawl of limbs and wild hair. The fool wasn’t even awake to see the fruits of his insanity. Teyla stood unarmed near the Queen, her sword forgotten on the floor.

The Queen waved for them to hold, to stay any attack. Her armour shining brightly in the sunlight, her hair swept back by the wind; she looked magnificent. She lowered her sword, and it fell with a clang on the stone floor joining Teyla’s.

Behind her, their prisoner snarled in the lull, struggling futilely against his bonds and captors, the growl oddly draconic, matching the Black Dragon. McKay shuffled his feet, wishing for more protection than a suit of armour and a sword. It wasn’t much use against being cooked alive in your own juices. Nonetheless, Rodney prepped the beginnings of a ward against fire just in case this all went pear-shaped.

The great Black Dragon swung his head, sluggishly watching them all; eyes narrow with anger but dull with pain and fatigue. It wasn’t quite the same monster he remembered from Kandahar, even if it looked incredibly large inside the room. Insanely, Elizabeth stepped forward, hands outstretched, the dull thud of percussive missiles battering Atlantis’ defence audible in an urgent fashion. “Jhepard-shon, please hear me.”

Despite Peter’s cautionary hiss, Elizabeth stepped even closer to the dragon, her eyes fast on its. “Please hear me out. I realise that you have been treated ill and...”

“Ill! Ill does not even come close to describing it,” the man shouted from his knees, neck still bent but face twisted to see the scene, restrained but certainly not gagged. Rodney shot him a worried look. Was the fool trying to get them all killed? It didn’t take a genius, and Rodney was certainly a genius to put the pieces together.   This man was the gold dragon, no matter how fantastical that seemed. McKay told his brain to be quiet and focused on his spell and his sword.

 Elizabeth shook her head imperceptibly again at her men, indicating they should do nothing.  She calmly addressed both the dragon in human form and the monstrous Black. “Catchell-meron, I regret how things have turned out, truly.”  Rodney noted that Evan stepped closer to Peter and Charles, probably to lend a hand if the dragon tried to change. Oh, that was a cheery thought. Two dragons in one room with lots of little snacks running around. Rodney edged closer to the door and stopped and listened intently to the negotiations.

Catchell-meron snorted, clearly disbelieving Elizabeth’s regret, and his snort was echoed by the Black Dragon.  Her voice shaking with emotion and probably fear, Elizabeth said loudly, “No matter what you may think, I regret that we have come to this, but our need was vital and is now urgent.”

The dragon growled and swung his head around towards her, his head dwarfing her entire body. “But it was one of your own making, Queen. “

Elizabeth paused, her gaze running over the Dragon, trying to judge its mood. She sighed, “Be that as it may, we are here. My city is in need. My people are in danger. However you judge our actions, they were born out of need – real need.” She stepped moderately closer and stared up at the Dragon. “My ancestors came to this city long ago and failed to uncover its secrets, so it has fallen into disrepair. We have not had the skill or knowledge to stop that, to fix the damage wrought by hundreds, nay, thousands of years.”

Rodney smiled briefly. Elizabeth had always had a way with words. She could talk the birds out the trees, ambassadors into profitable trade agreements, and send suitors back to their homes feeling that it was their decision to abandon their pursuit of her. No doubt she was bringing the full weight of her persuasive abilities to the fore now.

She continued, “I regret the years of neglect that has plunged this city into disarray. I regret that time and thinning bloodlines have failed us – when legends speak of a City that lived and thought once.  Now we cannot even wake her long enough to save us-to save us in our darkest hour!”

Rodney felt his jaw drop, and he shot a look at Carson who was shaking his head in amazed dismay. Ronon standing off to one side out of the way did not seem surprised – rather he radiated curiosity. Teyla was staring at the Queen and shooting glances at the Dragon. Elizabeth had kept this secret well. A Living City – what next?

Elizabeth now stepped with striking distance, ignoring years of training and common sense.  The dragon could now just reach out and end her life with a single blow. Slowly, sincerely, she looked up at him, her hands open, arms at her sides. “Most of all though, I regret the pain and hurt you have suffered. Suffered due to our, my, ignorance and need. Pain that could and should have been avoided. Hurt that even now plagues you.”

Oh, that was an interesting move – letting the dragon know she was aware it wasn’t fit to fight.  It was a moot point almost, as it could certainly take them all out. For an instant, a thought brushed McKay’s mind. Why? Why was the dragon talking and not rampaging about killing them? It didn’t need to hear her out, even if its friend’s life was in the balance. The dragon twisted its massive head and regarded the Queen coolly. It might be injured, hell it might even still be in pain from their attack, but it certainly did not seem helpless.

The wind from outside was cool and delicious on his feverous hide. Shep felt a real urge to just abandon this mess and take to the skies once more, although in truth it was probably for the last time. Shep blinked long and slow, blinking away the fugue that clouded his vision, the ache in his chest, and the pounding in his veins. He resisted the urge both because Cam needed him and well, with his luck he’d probably be shot down or crash into the City below the second he took off.

The Queen standing before him was close enough to bite, her upturned face open and pleading. Her apology was overdue and uttered only in desperation, so what level of sincerity did it truly have? Even though he needed to extract himself and Cam with as little physical effort as possible, he was not inclined to forgive recent events so quickly – for expediency’s sake. He would not last long in a protracted fight though – his strength was fading even as she spoke. Nor did he wish his final moments to be spent meeting out death and breaking age old oaths.

The little Queen before him smiled sadly and extended her hand, reaching out as if to touch, but she did not close the distance. Her face was earnest, open – eyes wide and mouth poised with real emotion.  “We need your help, Dragon. I don’t understand it fully, but I have to trust - something. It is too late for any other plans.  Our enemy is at the gate, breaching our defences and threatening to destroy my people.”

Shep met and held her gaze, peering into her heart, trying to see her mind, the true intent of her spirit.

Her words shook with emotion, fear uppermost. “We started this all wrong, did everything wrong, and now I must ask you to forgive us and in the same breath save us. I must trust that you can.”

“What if you are wrong?”Shep rumbled, surprised at how gruff his voice sounded, unsurprised by how much it hurt to speak. “What if those legends are just fantasies cooked up by your fathers?”

Directing Shep’s gaze with her as she moved, Elizabeth pointed at the ancient Throne placed at the centre of the room. Ungilded, simple, etched with beautiful design, the throne echoed a distant time so ancient it was almost forgotten. Almost. He had been ignoring the throne in favour of the far more urgent conversation just as he was ignoring the underlying presence of the City. Unnatural thunder rumbled over the city as the battle outside raged. The knights in the room kept glancing at the view, watching to see if the defence held.

More importantly, Cam still knelt in his bonds – cold hard steel at his throat.

The Queen spoke slowly, no matter her urgency or the seriousness of the situation, “Maybe they are wrong because no matter how hard we searched – the only answer we ever found was a cryptic line.” She paused, her eyes boring into his with intensity. Slightly mesmerised, the thrum of life fading in his heart, Shep heard her say in concert with the sounds of battle from outside, “Only a dragon can awaken the city.”

 Elizabeth licked her lips, a strangely calculated move that nonetheless betrayed true emotion. “A good friend lost his mind trying to understand – trying to figure out if it was just poppycock.” Her face fell with the memory, and she turned to look at the unconscious human by his talons. “Daniel sat in the throne and tried to use a magic he barely understood to wake the City.”

The man, Daniel, did not stir, his glasses lying broken on the floor beside him. “It broke his mind – whatever it was, and he has not recovered.”

She turned back to Shep, her back straight, face clear and firm again, the loss gone from her voice. “I have to believe, even if it’s madness. I don’t know how you can save my City, but something tells me you do.”

The whole City rocked as a backlash of magic whipped out from the battle below. The room shook, dust and powder falling from the ceiling, the glass on the floor shifting underfoot.  Everyone but Shep fought to keep balance. A reverberating boom echoed belatedly through the City, all eyes drawn to the Bay and the Asuran ships. Long plumes of smoke billowed from the sections of the city nearest the walls. Several buildings were on fire and even from their high position, they could hear the clamour of cries and shouts, missiles and battle magic.

 Drawing her eyes away from maelstrom of the battle, Elizabeth turned to him again, and cried, “I hate putting the safety and continued existence of my people on the whim of something those same legends depict as voracious, cunning, and untrustworthy:  a being, a dragon, no one had seen for hundreds of years.”

Strangely enough Shep noted that Sir Teyla, the treacherous Athosian, coloured at the Queen’s words. From beneath swords and strong arms, Cam laughed, dark and brittle.  There was a brief struggle as he probably fought the bonds. Before Shep could move to help Cam, Teyla, her face red, spoke loudly, “History is written and forgotten by the victors and those who pick over their spoils, my Queen. We would do well to think on who wrote those legends.”

The Queen stared at her knight, and Shep could see the tension between them .  Although he did not particularly care for their opposition, he snarled, “Time is running out, Queen. My patience is gone and your city is dying.”  He wanted to add more, to tell her immediately his answer was no, but what else could he offer as ransom for Cam?

Shaking her head, Elizabeth pulled herself together and cried, “Whatever my feelings about the madness of relying on a dragon, it is no longer material.”

“Because Asur is knocking on your door,” Shep growled. He was running out of time too – fast. His left leg was trembling, the weakness hidden by his wing, but the wound was bleeding, and he could feel the drip of blood down his hide. The energy granted to him by the fire was ebbing, a muscle- deep weariness taking over.

Nodding, the Queen said slowly and clearly, “Yes, because Asur is here, but also because you are standing before me – talking, instead of killing us all and leaving the City to die.  That gives me hope – hope that the legends about dragons are wrong.” Again her eyes bored into him.  Shep did not want to see the urgency, the need, the desperation in them, but he did. There was no denying that Atlantis was in trouble – and no denying that they had mortally wounded him. Nonetheless, he quirked an eyebrow of disbelief, and a rumble echoed through the throne room, a deep, troubling noise. The attack carried on, unabated. The Asurans were relentless. 

“My City is about to fall,” Elizabeth cried, hand outstretched, pointing to the burning city. “I am sorry , so sorry for how you were hunted, trapped, and hurt. Please believe that.  No matter how unfair it may seem, dragon, please help us.”

Nodding to the men who guarded Cam and who stared back at her in disgust, the Queen said, “Release him.”

The guards looked at each other, and slowly, reluctantly,  stepped away and lowered their swords. One of them cut Cam free and slowly as if suspecting a trap, Cam stood. He did not look like he’d been hurt, bar for the trickle of blood down his neck.

It was a bold move – one that Shep would have appreciated in a different time. With her leverage gone, the Queen was relying entirely on his good humour – no, that was wrong. She was relying on his honour, trusting him to be honourable. It was a big leap of faith, and Shep could just as easily snatch Cam and leave.

Perhaps feeling exposed and overwhelmed by this move, Elizabeth’s voice shook as she said, “I place my life and lives of my people in your hands. You are free to leave. Free to take your friend with you.” To her credit she did not add – and leave us to die.

She waited to stress the truth of her words, and Shep felt her honesty in the plea. He knew what was coming. “Please save us. Whatever it is you need to do – please. Whatever you ask of us, is yours.”

Elizabeth stepped back, bowing low, exposing her back and neck. She and her city were at his mercy. Shep stared at the throne, the path clear up its steps, its blue frame unhindered and beckoning. He swallowed, his long throat convulsing with the movement and the pain it caused.

In the silence of the room, Cam walked the distance between them skirting the humans, gingerly making his way. Once within reach, he tapped his hide gently, reassuringly. Shep swung his head down to his level, and Cam whispered, “You don’t need to do this. We can just leave.”

Cam’s expression was a mixture of worry and anger, and he no doubt wished he could transform and bully Shep into leaving. Before Shep could answer him, he turned and glared at the humans in the room and said loudly, “You have no idea what it is you are asking. None.”

The tower rocked again with a slightly smaller shock wave making the Queen’s footing unsteady. Elizabeth bowed again and said softly, “Be that as it may, I ask it. I ask it for my people. For this City.”

Sir Teyla stepped forward and knelt in front of Shep, her head bowed, voice directed to the floor. “Sir Dragon. My shield and sword are yours. I ask forgiveness for my part in this, but also ask for your help, please. I swear on my sword, my life is yours. Even if you chose not to help us.” She lifted her head, eyes boring into Shep’s with a grim determination to repair her honour. Unfortunately, she needed a city and a duty in order to do that.

Again, quietly, just for Shep’s ears, Cam sighed, “You really don’t have to, Shep. We can just fly away, leave them to ....” Cam’s voice was soft as he trailed off, unwilling to mention the fate that awaited Atlantis. Shep knew that if he chose to leave, Cam would not say anything, but it would weigh on both their hearts – leaving the City to perish.  No matter how just the punishment, it was not right for thousands of innocents to suffer for the thoughtless blunders of a few.

Shep considered the moment, considered the decision before him because it would be completely life altering. The temptation to just fly away was monstrous, no matter the guilt, but Shep could also feel the dull, insidious climb of the Bane through his blood, clogging and thickening in his veins. For all intents and purposes, he was dead. His body was just slowly collapsing and catching up with its inevitable fate. If he left this city and this people to die, he would not be far behind them. There was no hope – only Cam would live if they left now. His decision would either save them all or kill them all even if in a sense, he would die either way.

Coughing abruptly as his stomachs roiled and fire pierced his lungs, Shep groaned and twisted forward, nearly crushing Cam with the motion as he tried not to curl around the torment inside him. He must be bleeding inside, the Bane’s progress more rapid than he thought. This was no doubt due to his exertions to reach Cam.

 Straightening and noting that no one had moved, Shep saw that all eyes were either on him or the City. The City was on fire, the third wall breached, and Iron Soldiers were marching through the streets. If there was a moment to make a decision, this was it.

Drawing himself up to his full height, neck arched, wings barely furled, Shep rumbled, “You’re asking a sharding lot from me, Queen of Atlantis, and I am certain that you have no idea of the consequences that will follow. This sacrifice comes at a price that we will both pay and maybe live to regret. I will help you.”

The wind picked up and blew the acrid smell of smoke into the room, and Elizabeth said sharply in a loud voice, “We will not agree to slavery or indenture, we’d rather die...”

Shep barked out a laugh, one that hurt, but he smiled as he lowered his head so that he looked her straight in the eye as he said, “You mistake me, again. You have already made your choice, Queen. The price is set in stone.”

“Wait,” Elizabeth shouted as Shep raised his head, stretched out his wings and stood, his legs trembling with the effort.

Ignoring her, Shep smiled at Cam who hovered near his feet and said quietly, “I choose.” It hurt to say those words, and it hurt even more to summon the magic to make it so, but Shep did not stop.  Instead he embraced it like he was coming in to land without slowing down.

Shep beat his wings one last time and let the magic course through him, willing the change. He began to glow from within, a deep blue similar in colour to the blue of the throne and so many parts of Atlantis. Every nerve, tendon, and muscle sang with power as Shep burned out every magic reserve he had. With painful clarity he felt the beauty and majesty of his wings, the blood running through the membranes, his triple hearts beating in concert, scales and hide pulsing with life.

The glow around him intensified, filling his eyes with light, so that the last thing he saw was Cam staring up at him. In the white light, Shep could only hear his hearts and distantly a crash that rocked the room as an Asuran missile crashed into the central tower.  A chorus of cries echoed around him. Undeterred, Shep ignored the noise and distraction and changed.

Chapter 6

 Abruptly the light disappeared and broken masonry fell into the throne room, falling from overhead, cracking and splintering the floor. The roar of noise from the battle in streets rang all around them as soldiers and knights struggled to hold back the Asurans.

Blinking against the afterimages from the too bright light, Elizabeth stared at what – who stood before her. It took several long heart beats before Elizabeth fully digested the implications of it all. The dragon was gone, his massive frame vanished as if it had never existed. The room was empty, larger in the dragon’s absence, the wide open expanse where the window had been unobstructed.

 Instead, standing near where that massive head with its very large teeth had threatened was a man. He was attired in black armour that mimicked the effect of dragon scales. Tall, slight of frame, skinny even, his skin was pale like it had never seen the sun. The armour fit him snugly, had few embellishments, and  highlighted his long limbs and bare hands and feet.  His hair was a mess of spikes and cowlicks.   He blinked rapidly, nearly falling to his knees as the next missile rocked the building.

“Oh, sure – you get clothes,” Catchell-meron grumbled nearby. The incongruity of that statement was almost enough to snap her out of the daze. Elizabeth stared at his bare feet, small and pink, peeking out from under black shin greaves. Shooting his friend a look but without saying a word, the man strode up the steps of the throne, his legs eating up the distance. As each bare foot touched a step, it lit up, a blue panel glowing on each stair. Elizabeth felt the muted, barely audible hum of Atlantis surge to a roar as he neared the throne. She had seen her grandfather climb those stairs on many occasions to sit before ceremonies and rituals. They had never lit up, not for him, her father, or her.

When the man sat down on the throne, a sound rolled through the city like a deep bell tone, long and sonorous. More lights in the throne room appeared from fixtures and apertures covered by tapestries depicting the millennia long reign of the Atlanteans. Cerulean blue power lines humming with magic appeared on the floor, running up towards the throne. Ancient magic surged through the room, bringing its own illumination. Rodney squawked beside her and quickly backed away from several tables and stools that rose out of the floor.

Jhepard-shon pushed back on the throne, and it obeyed, the high back lowering. Instantly images from around the city appeared in the room and above his head:  the Asuran fleet, its landed towering Automatons, as well as the struggling Atlantean defenders.  Elizabeth scanned those images, desperate to see what was happening, and desperate for the dragon to act.

At the same time though awe rushed through Elizabeth – awe and wonder that such power, such magic had lain within the City – and they had had no idea of its scope and ability.

 Power thrummed through Shep as he felt Atlantis slowly wake – like a giant rousing from ages of slumber, sluggish and awkward. Thin curious fingers of awareness touched his mind, questioning, exploring. Shep opened himself up to them, lowered his barriers and smiled, “Hey.”

Atlantis stirred in response like she was shaking off the dust, and suddenly the massive weight of her awareness pressed down on his mind. She was like no other being Shep had met, and her touch was not gentle as if she were out of practice. He grimaced as she grumbled and groaned, complaining about things that made no sense to him, a stream of images of dark corridors and broken crystals battering his mind. He let them wash over him and just tried to stay afloat in the sea of sensory information she was pumping in.

Whatever her opinion of the state of her vast structures was, nonetheless, she was glad to have him and have him she did. In fact, she was positively delighted as the prospect of talking, of having someone who could hear her. Shep felt her possessive fingers tugging at his brain, whispering and promising so much wonder. Struggling to focus but holding on, Shep prodded her further awake.

“Come on, old girl. Time to flex those muscles. Your people need you.”

The throne thrummed with power as he channeled it, and it obeyed instantly, coursing through him, like no other energy or strength he had ever felt.  As quickly as it ran through his veins, it was gone, out into the City, bearing commands and orders. Atlantis responded with a new, deep rumble of reverberation. It was peculiar, but Shep felt buildings moving, doors opening, floodgates, aqueducts and avenues clearing, like it was his own body, only not.

 Atlantis opened her eyes – so to speak and awoke to see an attack, damage and destruction. She responded almost immediately to the threat attacking her walls, breaching them, destroying her streets, her people. Atlantis’s roar was silent but shook Shep with its intensity. Without thinking about how he knew to do so, Shep raised a shield of defence- an all encompassing ward that covered the City. It rose like a silvery blue dome over even the highest spire. It clicked shut in his mind and immediately turned back missiles and spells alike from the Asuran Fleet.

Distantly, as if he was underwater, he heard voices raised in alarm, feet running.  All too quickly his attention was fixed on the Asurans both outside the shield and those still inside the City. The Fleet responded with a massive magic assault. Hundreds of concussives and magic balls of energy battered the shield.  The steady, unrelenting rain severely tested the shield,  but it held with Atlantis determinedly pushing power to maintain it. Shep dug deep into the untapped wells of power that lay within Atlantis, which she opened up to him, urging him to respond.

“Okay, we got the juice, now what?” he murmured to her, poking her gently.

Atlantis burbled a response and opened up her array of defences to Shep, and instantly he was almost at a loss with the over abundance of choice. Missiles of such a wide variety flashed before his eyes, magical and physical. High beams of pure energy. Flooding the streets. Viruses and plagues. Fire. Ice. Water. Magic that burned like the Sun.

Shep, who had been feeling weak and drained before his transformation and who was being bolstered by Atlantis’s strength, decided on simple and decisive. He needed to end the battle soon, lest he lose himself in the torrent of Atlantis’s awareness. The banks of missiles Atlantis had on hand was staggering. Using the images, he targeted every single Asuran he could see. Shep triggered barely a smattering of the missiles, and the rain of golden deadly missiles, directed by his intelligence, flooded the sky momentarily before hurtling down towards the battle.

Obedient and smart enough to track moving targets, each one found their mark and obliterated an Asuran Iron Soldier. Within a few seconds, the majority of the enemy was gone, only smoking fragments remaining. The surviving Asuran automatons inside the shield responded by targeting the missile banks and blasting off a round of magic arrows, beams, and spells. Their firepower was so diminished after the first volley that it barely scratched the surface of the missile turrets.

From his distant perch, Shep watched the Atlanteans rally in the streets.  Princess Samantha’s bright gold hair marked her on the battle ground as it shone in the light of the burning city and Automatons. She rallied her troops and charged into the fray, her sword glinting in the sun. Between the knights’ counter offensive, the few Atlantean Mechanicals that remained, and Shep’s second volley of missiles, the Asuran Iron Soldiers within the shield fell in a spray of mechanical parts or vanished in a plume of destructive magic.

He turned his attention to the Fleet, the massive iron ships still battering the shield ineffectually with barrage after barrage of magic. They were a harder target, and it took more than one missile barrage to sink one ship, but sink it he did. The ship keeled over as the waters of the Bay flooded through tears in the hull. Shep didn’t wait for the ship to completely sink, his attention already on the rest of the Fleet. They were still battering away at Atlantis, determined to the last to overcome by sheer strength. By the time he had sunk four more ships, the rest were retreating, pumping out magic like water, trying to reverse out of the harbour under a contained hail of offensive magic missiles.

Caught up in the moment and heat of success, Shep pursued the ships, changing to long range missiles and sinking three more and damaging at least six before the Asurans escaped even that range. The ships that survived did not stop and soon disappeared over the horizon, trailing smoke and oil on the water. None of the incredible and once invincible army of Automatons survived, their wrecked parts scattered all over the city.

Atlantis burbled with excitement, her awareness fully awake and eager, still keen to do battle, the decisiveness of the attacks too quick for her. She wanted more, wanted to fly, to continue the pursuit. Before Shep could think twice, she purged her missile banks of power and began to redirect her energy towards a series of cells beneath the ground. Star maps and drive protocols flooded the view before his eyes, and Shep felt her yearn for the sky, plotting a course to intercept the Asurans.

With difficulty, Shep tried to persuade her to stay put, very certain he was not ready to handle a flying City. “Don’t flood those engines, sweetheart. We need that juice for the city... yeah, the city. It’s damaged – look see.”

With a great deal of effort, Shep changed the views back to Atlantis, the streets on fire, the buildings in ruins, the shattered walls. Firmly Shep showed her the need, practically dragged her awareness back to her people. The citizens of Atlantis were running about, trying to save their homes, the soldiers standing shell-shocked on the walls or battling fires. Buildings were still on fire, people were rushing about looking for loved ones, with fresh cries of grief rending the air. There was so much still to do in the City itself, the damage from the attack like a deep wound scored into the skin. While the parts of the City closest to the harbour and wall were the worst hit, almost every defensive structure, spire, turret, guard station was damaged from the attack. The Central Tower itself was unsteady after being under concentrated, targeted barrages.

“Come on, love. They need you more.”

Abruptly, like she just switched that part of her off, Atlantis dropped the urge for battle and bustled about prepping for repairs, her focus back on her own needs. And they were many.  She dragged his mind with her as she travelled into her own innards where an array of parts, machines, and devices activated, and even more damaged was discovered – this time from the years of neglect. Atlantis muttered to herself and grumbled and gently let him go, too busy to hold onto his mind with the challenges of serious self-repair before her.

The shift back into his own body was peculiar, as he felt far too small and fragile. Everything hurt, like he’d been slapped against the wall a few times and shaken about. Slowly, Shep sat up and opened his eyes. Fresh real daylight, even though the sun was obscured by the plumes of smoke, hurt his eyes after the magic eyes of Atlantis. The disconnect from having a thousand eyes back to two was weird, and he almost sank back into Atlantis reflexively to fix it. The throne room looked like a disaster zone, both from his own attack and the Asurans’, with stone and glass strewn everywhere and tapestries ripped and on the floor.  The humans were all still there: the Queen in her untested battle armour, her face a mixture of relief and concern.  Everyone was looking at him, especially the Queen,the Athosian knight, the irritating knight who had captured him ... was it only two days ago, the scholar, the wizards. Cam.

Shep felt the weight of his loss crash down on him as he met Cam’s gaze.

Breaking the tense silence, Queen Elizabeth straightened and took a few steps towards him, her expression blank but pleasant. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my city.” She bowed slightly, and Shep noted her emphasise.   The other humans in the room watched nervously, and Cam moved in his direction. Several of the knights, notably the ones who had held Cam, had their swords drawn and seemed poised for action.

Feeling weak and drained, Shep slowly stood the strength rushing out of him as Atlantis busied herself elsewhere. That bolstering flow of energy from her trickled down to a small stream, and he felt very light headed. Very aware of her fears, he replied calmly, “Queen Elizabeth, please tell your people not to freak out when a bunch of little devices, Atlantis’s own automatons appear. She is going to help with repairs. In fact...” and he paused.

Outside through the open double doors, a stream of small automatons buzzed past heading towards the damage in the Tower. They were in a variety of shapes and sizes – mostly overgrown bugs, orbs, and floating lights. “There they go. They’ll take care of the fires first,” Shep finished.  The Queen’s worry ate at him, her fear that he was going to try usurp her – that her own battle was only beginning. She did not yet understand the price she had already paid. The Queen barely glanced at the machines, her focus was entirely on him and Cam. Her sword lay at her feet, and to her credit she only looked at it once.

The others in the room were distracted by the small automatons, and turned and watched the stream of hundreds of the little things take to the air and head down to the City. Rodney McKay, the knight who had started his journey to Atlantis, hurried over to the yawning precipice that had once been the windows. “Who the hell knew we had those!” he cried, a strange excitement in his voice. “Just look at them!”

A few of the automatons entered the throne room and started hovering over the damage, beginning to repair it. They appearance was so... engaging that few saw Shep slowly take a step down the stairs, and his knees buckled.

A wave of exhausted lassitude washed over him, almost drowning his awareness completely, and Shep felt the edges of black unconsciousness threaten to tumble him right over. The pain of the Bane was gone – lost in the transformation, and it was an intense relief.  He had pushed himself far too much and had tapped out his own reserves hours ago.

Shep felt himself fall and could do nothing to stop it.

Belatedly, he felt strong arms catch him and just as the blackness claimed him, he saw Cam’s face, bent over him, his mouth moving. His last thought was – “It’s all gone.”

Cam stood to one side, uncaring of the excitement the little robots were causing. Shep was pale, pale as milk and moonshine, and just as he was about to move closer to lend a hand, his friend collapsed.

Cam ran but only just reached Shep in time, catching him as his head would have hit the top step. Cradling his friend, his suddenly fragile, small friend, Cam said softly, “I got you, I got you.” If Shep heard him before unconsciousness claimed him, he made no sign of it, his eyes fluttering and closing. The black armour was supple but hard, and Cam fingered it softly. No Trueborn had changed in Cam’s lifetime, and the armour was a real surprise.

Shep’s human face was also a surprise, although he couldn’t quite figure out why. How do you imagine someone would look when they changed shape? Even as a human though, Shep looked hurt, with dark bruising around his eyes, and lines of pain around his mouth. Abruptly, the two humans who had captured him, Teyla and Ronon, loomed over them, and Cam glared back. “Is he well?” Sir Teyla asked, her eyes darting over Shep’s body.

“No, thanks to you,” Cam snarled, pulling Shep closer, determined to protect his friend. Their vulnerability struck him. They were alone in a room of humans who had reason to fear them, even if Shep had just saved them all. Cam was days away from regaining strength sufficient to change back. Shep was out for the count, his innate magic unable to protect them. Cam couldn’t help the growl or the shiver of fear that ran up his spine. This was bad.

Dropping to his haunches, the scholar, Ronon, studied him and Shep, his gaze friendly and concerned. Meeting Cam’s eyes with frank and genuine concern, he rumbled, “My rooms are closest. He can rest there.”

Startled, Cam stared back to him in surprise. Above him, Sir Teyla was no longer looking at Shep. Instead her face was turned to the rest of the room, her long warrior’s que arcing over her back like a dragon tail. No one else approached them, no running feet, no angry words. Cam looked up at her and blinked rapidly in surprise. She had her sword out, but it was pointed away – pointed at her friends.

I swear on my sword, my life is yours.

Her oath rang in his ears, and Cam tried to wrap his head around this abrupt turn of events. Ronon’s gaze was still steady, patient as he waited for Cam to decide to trust them. Cam stared back, trying to divine the truth of the situation.  Were they being genuine?  In the end, it did not matter. Shep needed a quiet place to rest, and the Athosian had sworn on her life. Eventually Teyla’s stalwart protective posture and Ronon’s earnest expression persuaded him.  The man’s eyes and silence were far more persuasive than words.

Cam growled at Ronon, “The room needs to be warm, and you had better get as much food as you can... for when he wakes.”

Cam did not even say to himself – if he wakes.

Looking down, Teyla nodded and motioned in the direction they should take. Ronon helped Cam stand, but Cam shook him off when he tried to take some of Shep’s weight. “Leave it.” Cradling Shep in his arms, the weight of his friend heavy but bearable, Cam studied the collected faces in the room. The Queen had not received the confirmation she wanted, and her face was closed off and angry. A similar tension radiated off her guards, but the nattering little knight and his two mage friends were completely ignoring them, busy talking furiously and waving at Atlantis’s robots.

With nothing to say, Cam narrowed his eyes and nodded briefly at the Queen. He felt her eyes on his back as Ronon led him from the throne room, with Teyla covering their retreat.  He did not turn around.

She could wait.

Rodney had not been in many battles in his career as a knight. He preferred the confines of his laboratory with Carson and Radek, or his study at home than a campaign or expedition. This had been by far the biggest and most important battle he had ever been in, and he found himself at a loss as to what to do with himself now that it was over.

The little automatons – who varied in size and purpose- were doing most of the work in repairing the City and doing it faster and better than any human Atlantean. They had distracted him for a good while but were disinclined to stay still long enough for him to examine their workings and innards.

They also packed a nasty punch if you tried to zap one into submission.

So instead, nursing his burned hand, Rodney found himself heading towards the small meal room on his floor, the one he, Carson and Radek used when they emerged after a long spell of working on their devices. As expected, his friends were there – but so were Teyla, Ronon and Evan. The room was crowded as a result.

Ronon’s presence was no surprise as his room was currently occupied.    There was plenty to discuss, and he loved a good debate. Teyla occasionally joined them but considering events, it was unexpected to find their little party all in one place. At least Teyla was due to be in the brig. Evan had probably only ever joined them once, but he had nonetheless decided to do so now.

Conversation stopped as he entered the room, and Carson kicked out a chair around the crowded little table. The table was covered in food, mostly meats and breads, and Rodney’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t had a proper meal in days. Radek poured him a glass of something no doubt vile and bitter from his homeland. Rodney sat, took the glass, and took a long sip. He spluttered a little, and everyone smiled tired smiles, but the drink stayed down.

Before Rodney could pull one of the plates over, Evan cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him. “To victory,” Evan raised his glass and quietly, somberly they all drank. They should have all felt more relief, more joy, at this unexpected triumph. The mood of the toast reflected the mood of the City. Hissing against the burn of the alcohol, Rodney coughed, “Victory indeed. But at what price?”

Carson nodded and tipped his glass forward, his gaze studying the liquid. “Too soon to tell, I think. I know the Queen fears a play for her throne.” Rodney, Evan, and Radek nodded in agreement. Elizabeth’s posture had screamed uncertainty, and it was a logical leap. The City responded to the dragon, and he may well desire the Realm of Equestria as his price.

Ronon snorted and shook his head. “I do not think the Dragon means to rule. That would be too obvious.”

“This is not some fairytale, Ronon,” Evan replied, pointing at the scholar. “Just because it is obvious, does not mean it is not correct.”

Still shaking his head, Ronon disagreed, “We have misjudged the dragons before. We would do well to wait and see before rushing to hasty actions.”

To this, Evan frowned but did not reply. Keen to diffuse the tension, Radek murmured, “At least Atlantis has awoken,” and he tapped the table quietly.

Rodney agreed unhappily, “A fine secret that – that the City itself is a giant Mechanical Device.”

“Don’t be so simplistic, Rodney. The City is hardly akin to one of our devices. The metaphor certainly fits, to be sure, but she is a far greater creature than that.” Carson smiled, leaning his head back and looking up the high ceiling above.

Evan pointed out sharply, “Who is to say what surprises await us on that front? A City that suddenly thinks and lives.” He raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Who knows?  Perhaps the Ancients put it to sleep for a reason.”

There were several murmurs of agreement from around the table, no one having a real response to that. Rodney sipped his drink and tried to find a measure of excitement, or at least peace. The city was safe, they were safe. Why did it feel so hollow? Why did it feel like the ground still about to fall out from under them? Was it just the uncertainty of the ‘price’ and the newness of a City they all thought they knew but suddenly so very different?

Teyla cleared her throat and all eyes moved to her. Of their group, she still faced the direst of consequences, a sentence yet unpronounced, and an oath to fulfill. Each stood in stark contradiction of the other, and her fate lay in Elizabeth’s hands. She did not have a drink, and her hands were clasped before her on the table. “I know some of you disagree with my actions, and my feelings about the Dragon. And time will only tell if,” she paused, her eyes seeking theirs. “I feel I must make amends with the Dragon, with Jhepard-shon. Although we acted together, and I was not alone in capturing him, I ... feel a debt. A large debt.”

“But you have no idea .... about anything, Teyla! Not what the Queen will require of you, let alone the Black Dragon,” Evan said sternly, earnestly. “Please rethink...”

Smiling firmly, Teyla said softly, “Whatever your fears, Lorne – I must trust Jhepard-shon. My own honour will not allow anything less than service and restitution.”

Honour was such a tricky aspect to life. Rodney had felt the keen bite of shame and dishonor, and while he did not feel the same level of guilt about the dragon as Teyla did, he could understand her view. He had saved their lives and from the start, they had acted thoughtlessly.

“Pish tosh, Teyla – you did not know...”

Shushing Carson, Ronon took her hand and said quietly,” Whatever happens, we will be here. Ready to help.”

They all nodded, Teyla smiled, and Rodney grumbled, “Even if it means facing down a dragon – again.”

Chapter 7

The room was filled with warm golden light, the air toasty and comfortable. The smell of fresh bread, rare meat, and something very savory wafted around him.  As Shep opened his eyes, the light was low enough that it did not hurt his pounding head.  The bed beneath him was soft, the blankets warm and inviting. It was strange lying in a human bed but oddly comforting.

The room felt wrong, too small, and too delicate. Its soft blue walls curled up towards a curved ceiling.  The underlying scent of books, magic, and earthy oils permeated the room. The sun through the window felt muted too, like it was being filtered or screened. It was still pleasant and radiated life and comfort. Whoever lived here enjoyed spending time in this room.

Shep blinked, and as the understated hum of Atlantis grew into a full throated song of recognition, realisation dawned, and he remembered where he was. Atlantis.

Her touch was gentle, less urgent than before, a whisper kiss of greeting. She was essentially distracted elsewhere, and Shep felt her attention scattered and splintered throughout the City, focused on a variety of activities and projects. She felt – happy. Stretching, Shep automatically tried to unfurl his wings to stretch them out and abruptly stopped. Where were...

Spidery thin fingers darted in front of his face instead of black and pearl talons. Skinny legs, thin arms, tiny body.

In the catastrophic moment when the memories came rushing back and the realisation that he was changed, Shep’s heart sank. It was all gone:  his life, his home, his family. Gone in a single choice. The very essence of who he was... just gone.

In that moment, as despair choked him, he saw Cam lounging in a chair near the fire his long legs sprawled out in casual elegance. His face mirrored Shep’s heart, a mixture of sorrow, regret, and anger. It matched the surge of emotion that ripped into Shep. Looking down again, Shep scowled at his hands – his white, fragile hands. No talons, no black hide, just soft human flesh. His hands shook as the reality of his decision pressed down on him, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears.

Sitting up, Shep wrapped his arms around himself hiding his hands and met Cam’s anguished eyes. “Stop looking at me like that,” Shep sighed, feeling that Cam was only reinforcing the awfulness of the situation. Cam looked away, his hand covering his mouth as if he were wiping away his sorrow, hiding it for Shep’s sake. The fire crackled, a branch snapping in the heat.

After a while, the silence between them taut, the smell of food was too tempting to resist any longer, and Shep snagged some of the meat and bread. It felt wrong in his hands, too small, but as he bit into it – it tasted perfect, delicious even. Resisting the urge to wolf it all down in several large gulps, he ate slowly, deliberately, as Cam straightened. Dragon bread came in loaves large enough to crunch and mash, and this bread was far lighter, airier. It was surprisingly good.

Sighing, Cam picked up some bread as well and ate with him. They sat there for a few long minutes while Shep sated the yawning hunger within his belly. Eating helped, as it settled some of the discomfort of his new body. The food tasted similar but different, and he wasn’t sure if it was because it was human food or because he was human. As peculiar as it was to see long, thin pale fingers and not to feel his wings, slowly Shep realised that he still felt like himself – he still felt... like he’d always had. He didn’t feel changed. He half expected his wings to flap, his tail to move. It was disconcerting to say the least.

Perhaps knowing best where his thoughts had run, Cam said gently, “The first time I changed, I spent about a day just studying my human form. Silly things like ears and a nose. It was ... fun.” Shep idly touched his ears, and was surprised to find the protruding cartilage, even though he knew what human ears looked like.

“I ... I changed back the moment I could and then back to human repeatedly. I liked it. Human form is great for some things like being able to run. It’s not the same as flying, not even close, but it feels good, too. I was fascinated by the little differences more than the large. I was ... me in both forms.”

Cam’s eyes were soft and kind, and he was so desperately trying to offer comfort. Shep couldn’t summon any sort of response – not yet. Cam laughed wryly, “I changed so often those first few times, my father said I had to careful I didn’t end up stuck in between...”

He trailed off and glanced at Shep guiltily, not intending to remind Shep of what he could not do. Not meeting his gaze, not wanting to go there yet, Shep chewed thoughtfully and tried to shove away the anger and fear as the word stuck ran around his mind. Stuck. It screamed at him like a banshee. You’re stuck, you’re stuck, you’re stuck!

“We don’t have to stay, you know. We can leave anytime, I...”

Shep huffed in denial and shot Cam a knowing look. There was no going back home, not like this. It looked like his trouble at home had sorted itself out all on its own by default. He couldn’t claim a throne when he was... stuck. Entire portions of the WingSong Mountains were inaccessible to humans. If you didn’t have wings, you didn’t get there, and no one had any intention of changing that. It was often their surest defence – the impassibility of the mountains.

Cam leant forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. “You can come to Notha.  You will be more than welcome there.”

Shep nodded. It was true; Cam’s home would be best. The Dragonborn in Notha and other Cairns would welcome him with open arms. The division between Trueborn and Dragonborn was not their making and most Dragonborn dragons were friendly and kind. The Dragonborn always needed a true Dragonmage on hand as all other magic bar the change was lost to them.  He said, “Perhaps.” It was a real option, one that he should consider.

Cam sighed, picked up the remains of his meal, and ground the remainder of his bread into the table. “Perhaps.” It wouldn’t be easy though, and Cam would know that. It would not be easy living amongst a people who had the ability to shift into the form he longed to return to. Notha and any Dragonborn Cairn would be a constant reminder of what he had given up.

The fire snapped and crackled in the hearth, consuming the wood steadily, hungrily, warm air wafting over them. Shep stared at the flames, wondering if it would burn him if he stuck his hand into the flames. Would his skin turn black? The citadel was silent outside, no sounds of feet or people hurrying by.

 “Are you going to tell them?” Cam was watching the fire as well and was not looking at him.

 Shep shook his head, “Better to let them think I can change back whenever I want.”

Absently Cam nodded, and he tossed another log onto the fire. “So you are going to stay?”

Shrugging, he replied, “For now at least. Atlantis is ... engaging.” Cam’s face was still turned away, and Shep studied it, watching for a reaction. Engaging was all to light a word to describe how his heart beat in tune with the City. She certainly would resist him leaving, would beg and plead for him to stay. Even in the brief space of time they had been connected, Shep had sensed her loneliness, her sorrow. Maybe they could be lonely together.

Cam snorted, no doubt feeling her attentions to a lesser degree. “It’d serve them right if you left now – left with the City pining for you.”

Ah, perhaps Cam had noticed after all. Shep ran his hands over his face, marvelling and cursing again at the strangeness of that single act. “Yeah.... but knowing her even as little as I do, she’d probably try to follow me.” Cam laughed, soft and sad.

“So, we stay. For now.”

“I stay, you don’t have to...”

“We both stay! For now”

“For now.”

Caught up in emotions he did not want to examine, Shep leant forward suddenly wanting to hide away. He pressed his elbows into his knees, grasped the hair on his head, and squeezed. The stuff was soft and silky and far far different from his horns. A strange sound came from his throat, and Shep willed the scream of fear away. Cam suddenly caught his hand as he pulled at his hair and said, “Hey, hey.”

 Looking into his friend’s eyes, Shep felt a swell of raw sorrow rise within him drowning the fear. Cam’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and his grip on his hand was hard and fierce. “I am sorry, Shep. So sorry.”

The dam inside him broke, and Shep blinked back tears. Dragons didn’t cry. It wasn’t physically possible, but stupid, fragile humans did, and he couldn’t seem to stop the stream of water down his face.  Cam’s grip was crushing, willing Shep to believe him and his words fell like rain, “I won’t leave you.”

“You should. You really should. Go home.  Go to your family.” Shep hiccupped, not wanting his friend to see him like this, full of self-pity and loathing. Regret burned through his heart, followed by anger and more pity. Cam should go.

Shaking Shep’s hand as if trying to shake some senses into him, Cam shook his head. “No, not until you come with me. Vala can wait, and she’s happy on her own for awhile. Besides, who else is going to help you figure out this ridiculous human form?” Cam smiled through his own tears.

Totally agreeing with the ‘stupid and ridiculous form’ Shep sniffed and wiped away the tears, breaking Cam’s grip on his hand. This body leaked like a damp cave. Rubbing his face and burying the emotions for now, Shep smiled back wanly back. “Don’t really have a choice, do I?” He stood needing to move and hoped Cam wouldn’t try and hug him or something. He felt too fragile for that and that fragility just pissed him off.

Cam stood too, watching him carefully. They were almost of equal height and while Cam had not vastly outweighed him in dragonform, it was nice that he did not tower over him in human. Shep wobbled a little, his legs unsteady, but his feet relished the warmth of the stones. Uncertain what to say, not caring to return to more painful topics, Shep sighed, “So, running is good, you say?”

Cam nodded. “Yeah, running is good.”

Clasping his friend on the shoulder, Shep tried to inject as much thanks as he could not yet articulate without crying again into that grip. It was bad enough being... stuck in this form forever, being denied the skies, his home, his family for the rest of his life, at least he did not have to do it alone. Cam returned the gesture, grasping his shoulder firmly.

Not alone.

The wind still bore the stiff scent of smoke and destruction mixed with the cleaner, saltier air from the ocean. The day was beautiful, the sun crisp and golden overhead, the sky the sort of blue that reminded you of your childhood. The ocean glimmered gently, a far cry from the turmoil of the battle yesterday. Unfortunately, no matter how wondrous the day was, it could not detract from the areas of destruction that wound through the City:  the broken walls, shattered buildings, and the torn up streets.

Elizabeth exhaled loudly and blew her hair out of her face. Although it was late morning already, she had not dressed as yet and stood in her nightgown on her balcony. One day after the attack, and it felt like a week so much had happened. There was still plenty to do, and she needed to go visit her people today, reassure them, and check on the progress of the repairs. The little repair automatons were very efficient, and her own Tower was already in better shape than it been in years. Atlantis was certainly giving herself a good spring clean as well as repairing the damage wrought by the Asurans.

She had already visited the worst hit neighbours last night, spoken to the community leaders of those areas where civilian causalities were high. Fortunately most of her people had evacuated the areas nearest the walls and the fighting. Most. The number of dead was still too high for her liking. Many knights, mages and auxiliaries had died defending their home.

The sound of hammering and construction rose on the wind, and Elizabeth watched as the automatons fixed one of missile batteries she didn’t even know her City had. She fingered a cut on her hand, briefly relishing the ache before leaving the wound alone. It was time to stop moping and head down to her people and see where best to lend a hand or a shoulder.

“Elizabeth?”

Smiling, she turned and motioned Samantha to join her. “Sam.”

Sam’s hair was still all over the place, and she had not yet taken off her armour, although it had been several hours since Elizabeth had ordered her to rest. “I’ve double and tripled checked the City Shield – we can activate it much like the Veil on command. However, I feel... no, I am certain that the dra... that Jhepard-shon would be able to override that command if he chose.”

Elizabeth frowned and nodded. “Thank you. Perhaps now that you are certain we are at least protected while the walls are repaired, you can sleep?”

Samantha was not done. While she had at least taken the time to wipe her face before visiting, you could still see the line of dirt and ash in her hairline. Raising a shaking hand to her mouth, Samantha fought off a yawn and mumbled, “Sleep, perhaps. But there is still so much to do let alone understand what the City awakening means...”

“I already know what it means, dear.”

Elizabeth heard the hardness in her voice and knew it was too late to take back those words. Samantha stared at her, her eyes bright and shiny in the sunlight. “What do you mean, Majesty?” Ah, the formality of a soldier preparing to do battle – if need be.

Taking another deep breath and exhaling, Elizabeth smiled wanly at her Princess Royale, General of the City, and childhood friend. “The Dragon – the dragon said I would pay a price, Sam. At first I thought he meant to claim my throne, demand my realm or something like that.”

Unerringly, Sam’s hand found hers and squeezed it. “We would fight...”

Smiling reassuringly, Elizabeth shook her head, “It might still come to it, Sam, and I don’t know its…his mind fully. But somehow, I don’t think ruling is his desire.”

“Then what is? How does he plan on extracting this price?” Samantha scowled, her other hand clenched tightly on the hilt of her sword.

“As I said,” Elizabeth sighed, “I think the price has already been paid. Like he said.”

Sam opened her mouth to speak but stopped. She followed Elizabeth’s gaze to the small machines repairing the Central Tower windows across from them. The City had a certain glow about it, a glisten in the sunlight. “The automatons?” Sam stammered, confused.

Removing her hand from Sam’s, Elizabeth ran her fingers over the stone railing of her balcony, tracing the carvings and smooth design. “Perhaps you have been too busy to notice, my dear. At first, I was. But last night as I lay in my bed thanking the Goddess, the Gods and all the Ancients that we were safe, I did as I always do – every night.”

Blinking, surprised to find herself suddenly emotional, Elizabeth continued, “For years, both as a child and as Queen, I have said goodnight to the City.  Sometimes, actually in most instances, I feel her saying goodnight back.”

Elizabeth turned and stared into Sam’s eyes, watching to see if she understood. “We don’t talk about it a lot, although we have been recently:  the Atlantis hum. The sense of the City some of us have.”

Sam nodded and replied, “I have felt it – sometimes. Whilst on the walls, or returning home. A touch of welcome.”

Nodding in return, Elizabeth continued, “Not everyone feels it – some not at all. Woolsey knows of it and said my grandmother would sing to the City late at night as she rocked my father.”

“The Ancient Bloodline,” Sam said, tracing her own pattern on the balcony’s etchings. Elizabeth looked away. “Daniel was convinced that the legends and tales about this City being alive were true. That once the Ancients talked with a living City,  and we believed him because we had felt her touch, had glimpsed her light.”

Her grip on the balcony rail deepened so that her knuckles went white, and Elizabeth said sharply, “I bet the lives of my people on the mad hope, the crazy dream that one day this City could wake and save us – would live again.”

Sam stepped near and covered Elizabeth’s hands with her own – hers dirty and cut, covered in scabs. Elizabeth stared at those scabs long and hard while Sam said, “And the bet paid off. It worked. The Dragon woke the City.”

Heart pounding, pulse racing, Elizabeth reached out with her mind as she had so often this morning and tried to reach the Atlantis. As she did so, she whispered, “If the City is awake, why can I not feel, Samantha? Whilst she slept, I felt her often – far more frequently than I would ever admit. And now...” Elizabeth caught Sam’s sudden understanding and sighed, “Nothing. I cannot feel her at all.”

Sam’s gaze grew distant as if she too were trying. “Can you feel the hum? Every mage in the City knows the hum at least – the recognition of innate power?” Elizabeth asked.

The wind changed and began to blow from the land side, blowing the smell of smoke and death away from them. Sam’s eyes were wide as the implications ran through her mind. “Have you checked with anyone else?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Carson. He had the strongest connection that I was aware of, and he felt nothing. Like a wall had been put up.”

Slowly, gently, Sam stepped back and paused for a while. They both looked out over the City watching the repairs, and Elizabeth tried to stop the whirlwind of thoughts in her mind. “Perhaps, it is not as bad as we fear. It’s not like we did anything in particular with that connection – the hum. It was just ... there.”Sam’s voice was thoughtful, hopeful, and she turned to Elizabeth with a smile. “Truly, my Queen. It does not seem too high a price...”

Elizabeth’s expression must have stopped her, derailed her thought. Elizabeth shook her head and said slowly, “Think about, Sam. Truly think about it. This City – our home, has far more depth and layers than we had ever imagined. It is the last Ancient City, and we at best had a tenuous connection to it. And now...”

Elizabeth paused because she saw that Sam had followed her trail of thought, her wandering path of reason. Trying to keep the fear out of her voice, Elizabeth picked up the trail, “And now, that connection is gone. Completely. Instead of Atlantis waking and connecting to us... to me – it has connected to a Dragon, a man, who... who has no reason to love us, less to even care for us. He may have saved us – but... he doesn’t need to ask for my throne, Samantha.”

“He controls the City,” she whispered, aghast.

“And who knows what he can do! What hidden power, weapons, and abilities the City has bestowed upon him.”

Sam stared at her in horror and took a step back and then another and suddenly began to pace. “He, he... could do nothing, Elizabeth. He could just leave and... and ...”

“Yes, yes, he could. But what if Atlantis will not speak to anyone but him – what if he leaves and we remain with a City that now thinks and wants ... an angry child woken from slumber, and we will have no means of communicating with her.”

“Shards and shells!” Sam cried, pacing with agitation. She pointed in Elizabeth’s’ general direction. “We could be borrowing trouble here, thinking the worst, making a big deal out of nothing.”

Again, Elizabeth nodded. “But it does not diminish the threat or potential danger.”

“And he has no love for us. Not when...”

“Not when we captured him, poisoned him, hurt him, kidnapped his friend, and browbeat him into helping us.”

Running her hands through her hair, Sam laughed in frustration. “Well, my Queen, it’s obvious what you have to do!”

Closing her eyes, Elizabeth smiled wryly and said, “Yes. I’ve got to win him over.”

Surprised, she opened her eyes as Sam took her hands and squeezed. With her face close, her eyes shining, Sam whispered, “No, Elizabeth. No, you have to teach him to love this City – to love us.”

Elizabeth could only nod.

“Our lives may well depend on it.”

The corridors of the main citadel of Atlantis were filled with an unusual hubbub of noise and commotion - this was mostly due to the new little automatons, but some of the noise hailed from a familiar source.

“Radek! What in the name of the High Moon are you doing?” Rodney struggled to free himself from Radek’s grip, but the determined little Zech dragged him down the corridor relentlessly.
“An entire floor we did not know about, Rodney. An entire floor!”

Rodney protested loudly but had caught a modicum of Radek’s excitement and didn’t fight the pull too much. “Rooms and rooms and rooms filled with... stuff!” Radek rolled his r's with that abominable accent of his, but it expressed the shared joy of discovery. “Carson has claimed three rooms for us already, but …”

They had reached the new floor, which had opened up between floors three and four. Rodney slowed to a stagger and yanked back on Radek’s arm. “Wait, wait. What is this?” They had just passed a massive doorway which smacked him in the face with ‘come see’. Unable to stop himself, Rodney stepped into the room which should not be possible and stared up at the rows and rows of strange oblong shapes.

Sunlight shone through beautiful stained glass windows which the automatons were cleaning, filling the incredible chamber with multi-coloured light. “What are they?”

Radek shrugged, but he was just as awestruck, his fly away hair practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “No idea, but I am certain they will be fascinating. Perhaps some sort of ship.”Rodney nodded, his fingers itching to get a closer look at the boxes - curiosity burning through him. “Come on, there is more to see.”  Rodney did not resist as Radek tugged him out of the room.

Whatever the Dragon’s presence meant for Atlantis, at least it would be an interesting journey.

Fin