What Lake Fever lacked in width and length, it made up in depth. For many leagues beneath the surface, the bones of Odarth had slowly begun to regenerate.
Muscles formed. Flesh grew. Scales, as hard as any armor, locked. Her eyes came, all seeing and fiery.
Yes, the Rogue Dragon’s time to rise had come, to claim the skies as her own; to wreak havoc across all of Oriceran until someone mighty enough dared to stop her.
Odarth had formed enough to reach out with her mind, and she knew just the person to speak to.
Odarth’s voice had come to Hunter in his study, where he had been leafing through an old book. In that book laid the answers.
No need for a Gnome. No need for brute force. The solution was simple: ‘What has died in water must be born again in flame.’
Hunter stood on a platform near the shores of Lake Fever—a platform that had been raised specifically for this occasion. He smiled at the crowd of Dragon Tongue before him. They waited with grim expressions on their faces, having been pulled from scouting, guard duty, training, and other posts to hear Hunter’s words.
“My brethren, in my hands, I hold the answer to our troubles. We have gone down many avenues for these answers, only to come to a dead end time and time again. But tonight, we smash through the barrier with all the ferocity of a Rogue Dragon!”
Cheers rose from the crowd. They could sense something big in the air, something life-changing.
“I need all hands on deck. Watchmen!”
A row of Dragon Tongue in the middle of the pack beat their chests to the call.
“I’ll need everything you have in protecting that wall. Nothing gets in or out; you will die before our plans are ruined.”
Their enthusiasm didn’t wane at that. The resurrection of one of Oriceran’s most feared and powerful beasts was bigger than all of them. Some hadn’t truly believed the day would ever come, but here they stood, proven wrong.
Yes, they could taste it in the air. Destruction was coming.
Death was close behind it.
And the Dragon Tongue would wield a power stronger than that of any wizard, witch, Light Elf, Wood Elf, anything—if the legends were true.
The watchmen cheered and beat their chests again.
“Guards!”
The first row of Dragon Tongue stepped forward. They didn’t beat their chests like the watchmen had. Instead, they drew their dark blades and thrust them toward the sky.
“Gather up all the fuel within the town. Oil, gasoline, alcohol—if it ignites, I want it!” Hunter yelled.
The guards let out a unified cry of assent and lowered their weapons.
“Dark Mages!”
The last line of Dragon Tongue stepped forward. They bore no weapons except for the rings on their fingers, which were made from a shattered dark artifact and allowed them to manipulate all forms of magic; to bend it to their will and use it for evil. All they had to do was infuse each spell with malice and hate—two things the Dragon Tongue carried in their DNA.
“I will need you here, near the lake,” Hunter told them. “If we are going to bring Odarth back to us, we’ll need all the dark magic we can muster. Bringing such an entity to this world will not be an easy task.”
The mages heard the warning in his tone, but it did not hinder their spirit. They bowed their heads, and brought their ringed fists together in front of their chests.
Hunter snapped the book closed. The Dragon Tongue watched him with admiration in their eyes.
“The time has come!” He raised his own sword up into the air, and the dark magic running through him caused it to alight with black flame.
The entire crowd erupted in cheers.
Then they went to work.
Maria could hear the cheers all the way below the cells and wondered what they could be about. Whatever it was certainly wasn’t going to be in her favor.
Shortly after the cheers tapered off, she heard something else; something as familiar as the creaking of the stairs in her Akron home.
Maria, is that you?
“Sherlock,” she whispered.
Gelbus turned to her. “What?”
“I’m talking to my dog. Like I said, it’s a long story. Just bear with me.”
The Gnome shrugged.
Maria supposed after he saw her melt a steel grate with her hands, he must’ve figured anything could happen.
“How did you know it was me?” Maria asked Sherlock.
Faintly, he answered. Could smell you. Even under the layer of filth you’re currently wearing. May I say you smell absolutely exquisite? You should roll around in the sewers more often. Maybe we’d get along better, he said seriously.
“You’re gross.”
I’m a dog, what do you expect?
“Who’s there with you? Is Gramps okay? What about Frieda?”
Ignatius is doing a bit better, but he’s still not a hundred percent. He needs to get out of here, we need to get him home. Wait—Maria, what is that smell? Is that what I think it is?
“Your breath blowing back at you?”
This raised a chuckle from the Gnome. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but Maria figured it would be pretty easy to understand an insult like that no matter what planet one hails from.
No, that’s a Gnome, isn’t it? You brought a Gnome for me as a gift! Aww, Maria, you shouldn’t have.
“I didn’t.” Maria searched the stone foundation for a weak spot. She wasn’t having much luck. “The Gnome is off-limits.”
“Thank you,” Gelbus answered.
Maria arched an eyebrow at him.
“I know enough about canines to figure he probably wants to use me as a chew toy,” Gelbus said. “Thank you for deterring him. I appreciate that.”
"Don't mention it." Then Maria listened as she continued searching for a drainage grate or a crawl space—something, anything to get her closer to
