He looked to the sky. No sign yet. Reports had stated that they were on their way, though it wasn't certain at what time they'd reach the far southern area of the continent. Storms were reported towards the equator, certainly that would slow them, but the way they were it wasn't likely it'd slow them down by much. Kremnit snorted and shook his head. The young dragon was impatient and inexperienced. Kremnit had never before faced this time-old menace, but then again, neither had his rider, Irtan.

Several other impatient dragons traced the earth with their claws, casting anxious eyes skyward. When would it start? Suddenly a tan shape appeared on the horizon. It slowly enlarged into a blob that eventually took the shape of an older dragon and his rider. They dove down and came to a sudden halt before landing. The man was in his late forties, just arriving from the front line. His dragon counterpart was panting softly as bright red streaks marked his tough hide. The long, curving horns also had their share of blood coating the ends, but it did not belong to the dragon nor his rider, but from the nemesis they'd come to bring news of.

Pulling off his helmet and revealing frosted brown hair the man wiped his mouth and licked his chapped lips before speaking. "Mount up! They'll be here within half an hour!" The still-fresh, though slightly impatient dragons and riders prepared quickly for the attack. The man patted his tan mount's neck. "Lets get you taken care of old friend." He spoke to the dragon. "You've done your fair share today, I'll take out Mantea or Tren for the rest of the fighting."

Don't over-do yourself. Cautioned the dragon, turning an eye towards his rider as he trotted steadily to the infirmary where both dragons and riders were being treated.

"No need to worry about me Nekant. I have my sword and plenty of armor, I'll be safe." The rider dismounted and exchanged some brief words with a nurse before starting to strip off the harness.

Isn't that what many of them said when they first went out? Questioned Nekant, motioning his head to some of the riders who were presently being bandaged.

"I said don't worry. Mantea and Tren will do just a good of job as you." He hauled the thick leather straps off the dragon's back.

I'm not worried about them. Came the reply.

"Go on, they'll take care of you just fine. And I'm all right so stop your fussing." He patted the tall shoulder and turned. Nekant turned as well before finding a spot to lay where his lacerations would be mended.

I heard from Nekant they're coming. The young and vibrant voice of Mantea was heard in the rider's mind. Will you be saving the best for last Trint or will I be the next to go out? There was no doubting the enthusiasm in the young dragon's sent thoughts. The rider laughed as he pulled the harness off the wall. Two pairs of luminescent eyes reflected back at him as he stepped farther into his dimly lit quarters that he shared with his three draconic companions.

"Of course you're next Mantea." Trint replied, slight laughter in his voice. It was good to have young dragons attached to you as well as an elder just a few years younger than yourself. Trint thought as he threw the leather straps over Mantea's shoulder. The young dragon fidgeted slightly, eager and ready to be out in the action, though as of yet the nemesis hadn't even been spotted on the horizon, but they were close.

With years of practice Trint quickly buckled the many straps and hoisted himself upward so he rested comfortably between neck and wings. Mantea headed out the door. He bugled triumphantly as he reared upon his hind legs and stretched his dark emerald-colored wings to their full extent.

Settle down young one. Came Nekant's irritated but slightly drowsy tone. You don't want to use up all of that energy before you even see the enemy.

The young dragon merely replied with a snort and Trint heard Tren's distinct mental laugh. "We'd love to stay and chatter Nekant, but they're just about upon us, just look to the horizon if you can and see." Trint unbuckled his sword and told Mantea to head out. With a powerful thrust from his hindquarters and a mighty beat of his wings the green-colored dragon had them airborne and headed towards the field of battle.

Within moments they were amongst those awaiting the attack. Each rider was sitting proudly astride his or her dragon, sword at side and eyes watching for the other warriors to pull back. Then they saw it; the mass of mounted dragons suddenly pulled back from the swarm and blinked out of sight. A shout rose up as the large mass of gray bodies began to dive downward. The dragons and riders rose to meet them. The brass bugles reverberated across the plain. Herds of animals were fleeing from beneath the swarming mass of gray bodies.

Irtan didn't quite know what to do as he found himself and Kremnit the target of five yard-long creatures. The young dragon roared and lashed out with tooth and claw, knocking one of the foul beasts out of the air, crippling its wing. Seeing easy prey two others hunted it down, tearing it apart in mid-flight. The young rider shouted in pain as serrated teeth pierced his heavy riding jacket and thin armor. Kremnit roared outrage at his rider being hurt, his flexible neck turned to face the beast that had latched onto the young rider's arm. An ear-piercing shriek sounded as the thing released Irtan's arm and was crushed in Kremnit's jaws.

Left arm now useless Irtan pressed onward. There was no room to jump in this mess, plus, there was no place to jump safely to. He was in the heart of it. Thousands of gray bodies surrounded him. It seemed as each one tried to have their shot at him and Kremnit. His short sword struck home on several, which sent them spiraling downward, to be pursued by its comrades that would only devour it in their hunger.

A wave of nausea swept over the young man. He'd never seen anything so bloody as this and he'd never flown so hard with so many twists and turns. It was almost too much. Hang in there. Kremnit said. I'll get you out. Irtan shook his head, no; he should ride it out. Don't be foolish, what could we gain by staying here any longer and loose both of us? What use would we be then when we're eaten alive because one of us wasn't top-notch? Irtan barely reacted in time to dodge an attack upon his backside, slicing into the creature's side with his sword as it passed, though not doing enough damage to deter the hunger-crazed thing.

Kremnit tucked his wings and sent them in a steep dive. A few of the leather-winged creatures tried to follow but were assuaged by other riders who closed in to fill the gap. Soon enough they were out of the main tangle and rocketing towards the infirmary which was only a short distance away.

The young dragon's trumpet of distress was enough to tell the healers that the rider was in trouble. The near-unconscious rider and his dragon were lead inside; Irtan still slouching in the harness, if he hadn't been strapped in he might have fallen off long ago.

"Careful, careful." Cautioned one as Kremnit lay down, allowing them to pull Irtan off.

Large eyes were full of concern as he watched his companion being laid upon a small, clean mat. Irtan's left arm was soaked in his own blood from the initial wound an hour ago. One of the attendants walked up to the young dragon and patted him gently upon the muzzle. "No need to worry dear friend. He's not the first to be injured and certainly won't be the last. All will be well."

The words hardly assured the dragon; all he knew at the moment was his connection to this world was unconscious because of pain. A second attendant arrived by the dragon's side with ointment. "You know you need to be patched up as well as him." She said, she was replied with a soft snort and an irritated grumble. "Oh hush up, he'll be fine."

Back in the air Trint was fighting furiously. He had some good scratches across his right cheek from a recent close encounter, his jacket was torn in several places and it didn't seem as if Mantea was going to make it out of this with minimal wounds. They were moving out beyond a river now; they were informed that they were nearing the end. The fresh riders waited on the other side of the river, just a short distance away.

Just as they were about to turn out and head back to their home a pained bugle broke through the roars of the other dragons and the shrieks of the beasts. For a moment Trint saw the dragon body as it fell like a rock to the earth, followed by at least a dozen eager-looking beasts. "GO!" Trint yelled, Mantea turned a moment before the command was shouted. They dove.

Closer, closer, the pair neared the small pack of creatures that followed the downed teal-colored dragon. With a loud battle cry Trint waved his sword over his head. Mantea roared and took out three of the ugly creatures; Trint's sword found several more before they were upon their fallen companion. Large hand-like paws grasped the first available appendage, which happened to be the tail. Mantea strained, wings unfolding and flapping furiously, attempting to slow the speed at which they were falling, nearing the rapids of the river and the rocks shrouded in it.

Suddenly, and without explanation they stopped. Trint looked about wildly; all he could see was red! Then the wings took their downward sweep and there was the landscape. The fallen dragon and rider were besides them; the red blood of their wounds blending in with the hide of the mighty creature that had just saved them. Trint's eyes flickered to the front of the great animal; it looked back, eyes whirling slowly in many colors. Trint blinked. He'd never seen one this close before. An actual Clamon?

Yes, to the rock-dwellings with the people. He heard Mantea reply in a low, humble voice.

"Are you talking to her?" The slightly startled rider questioned.

Of course, would I be talking to anyone else? Just because they're the Great Ones doesn't mean they pay us no attention. Mantea replied before returning to his conversation with the red. Everything went black, Trint almost panicked, he couldn't feel anything, and he couldn't see anything. Then, just as quickly they were above the infirmary and the red was circling downward. A swarm of people arrived around the red as she allowed her cargo off. Trint and Mantea carefully hauled down the injured rider and the injured dragon was ever so carefully set down by the red herself.

Dust was kicked up and whirled about as the Clamon launched off and disappeared in the darkening sky. It took several moments for the awe to wear off and one of the lead healers to start barking orders to get the injured inside.

Trint rubbed the back of his head as he watched the spot where the mighty Clamon had disappeared.

I'm tired, let's go. Trint stumbled forward slightly at the force of the young dragon's nudge.

Not long after the dragon and rider pair were patched and settled others began to return, tired and worn from the day's fighting.

"What's the worst?" Trint questioned as he listened to the dragon claws scrape against the rocks that made their buildings.

A few are unconscious; worst is probably the broken arm although a few passed out from blood loss. Tren reported.

His helmet clattered against the stone floor as he threw it, along with his jacket, across the room before seating himself on the edge of his bed. "And of the dragons?"

Many have torn wings, though nothing too serious. The worst must have been Breatin, the one that Mantea and you helped save. His right wing was snapped and the main sail of his left had heavy damage. His rider isn't much better off with a broken leg and a great deal of lacerations on his face.

"Not bad for a first day." The middle-aged rider began to pull of his boots.

Would have been better if the young ones weren't so anxious. Nekant mumbled, talons scraping the hard stone.

"I'm sure they've learned from their mistakes."

We do have three or five days before they come our way again, Nekant. Mantea put in as he settled himself in his portion of the cave-like dwelling they called home.

Broken bones don't mend in five days. Replied the older dragon.

"The star is falling from its place, those in the west fight on. Let us sleep for now." Trint stated with finality, snuffing the small light that illuminated the chamber.