In the quiet hour of deepest darkness before the dawn, Gelmisil Dor Alaurieth stood at the uppermost window of the high golden tower of the Sun. From this vantage point, he watched a small band of twenty people make their way from the courtyard of the palace through the silent city streets. These were his family and closest friends and advisors, the last remnant of his people to leave the city. Soon, Gelmisil Dor Alaurieth, High Lord and King of the Gul Dar Lathan would be alone, and only his eyes would bear witness to the destruction of the royal city. It was his right. It was his duty.      

A chill knifed through his heart and jarred his bones. He could not shake the deep conviction that it was also his curse and punishment for betraying them. In the darkness of this hour, he found little comfort in the knowledge that by commanding his people to leave they had been spared from certain destruction. He had made this promise and vow in exchange for their lives. A promise that compelled him to follow this desperate course in the face of all who opposed him.      

No one understood or believed he had made the decision to save them from damnation. His people were ignorant of fear and believed themselves to be invincible. They could imagine no force able to defeat them, not even the gods they once acknowledged and worshipped. Until this moment, it had been enough that he knew. Since the day he made this painful and unpopular choice, he thought only of his desire to rescue his people from judgment. However, he realized now he may have saved them but had not discovered a reason for them to live after they went into exile.      

As the group moved slowly through the streets, they kept their eyes forward, not glancing to the left or right. Their firm footfalls, echoing off the smooth marble pavement, were steady and even. Though they were banished, they would not flee their home in fear or sorrow. They were the Gul Dar Lathan. All else might be lost, but they would hold on to their pride and dignity.      

When they arrived at the city gate, the huge gold and silver doors shimmered and swung open without a sound. When they passed under the archway onto the sweeping desert plain, a small figure moved from the center of the group turned and looked back toward the city. Her gaze reached over the glittering walls and spires of the city and fell on the window of the high tower of gold.      

The anguished emerald eyes of Gelmisil's ten-year old daughter locked onto the amber eyes of the king. A rough hand jerked her around and pushed her stumbling feet forward, but she twisted her head around and her eyes remained fixed on the man in the tower. Across the distance they seemed to reach out to him, confused and worried and full of pity. The city gates closed with a low rumble shutting the band out of the city and Gelmisil away from the plea on his daughter, Tersia's, face. Shuddering, Gelmisil buried his head in his hands. He had sacrificed a kingdom to atone for the pride and vanity of his people, but the wisdom that had guided him to save them from utter ruin had failed him in end. The passing of their age had come aided by his own hand. They were moving from the glorious light into the shadows.      

Tersia's eyes cast a shadow in his mind, and he could not forget the accusation that plagued and haunted him. There had been no need to abide by the ancient laws and traditions or subject his youngest child to endure them. His people were passing from this world and yet he had allowed them to go on as if this was not so. He had permitted them to perform the ceremony, and Tersia had been forced to play her part. It was a futile indulgence, a ritual without truth or substance. It had been the final test of his resolve and he had failed. His own pride and vanity had lead him to betray the love and trust of his favorite child.      

The last of the Gul Dar Lathan assembled on the shifting desert sands. The black starless sky began to turn a pale blue in the east. Gelmisil raised his head and scanned the dark outline of the mountains surrounding the land. He held his breath. Standing on the plain, he felt the question and tension in his people mirrored in his own mind.      

Would they come?      

The sun climbed over the rocky peaks of the mountains. The orange glow of dawn flashed with sparks of gold and silver. Rising to the heavens with the sun, the dragon host came.      

A howling wind rushed over the mountains, but the broad wings of the dragons pushed it back and the dragons sped on toward the city leaving it scattered behind them. Roaring, the dragons streaked over the desert, their shadows cut dark thin lines over the yellow sand. The dragons reached the place where the Gul Dar Lathan had gathered. In unison, the dragons turned and wheeled above them. A tall young man with hair the color of burnished copper, stepped forward, his golden mail jangling softly. Baldisan Dor Gelmisil, the eldest son of the king gazed up toward the shimmering sky.      

"Elmoru, I call upon you to bear me one last time."      

A large golden dragon, curved its long serpentine neck down and lifted its taloned wing tips upward and glided gracefully to settle before him. Its claws rested on the sand, but did not sink. It's huge lidless eyes regarded the young man intently communicating in a telepathic language that all the Guls could hear and understand.      

I shall honor the bond between us, Baldisan Dor Gelmisil. Come, we will meet your fate together.      

Baldisan nodded once sharply. Elmoru lowered its head to the ground and allowed him to climb upon his back. Unsheathing a heavy sharp sword, he raised it over his hand. The ancient battle cry of the Gul Dar Lathan thundered over the desert and shook the walls of the city. With a tremendous push of his legs and a wide sweep of his huge shining wings, Elmoru vaulted from the ground. Soaring into the sky, Elmoru opened his massive jaws and spewed out a long stream of smoke and yellow flame. The other dragons answered in turn filling the sky with fire and the bellowing explosion of their cries.      

Gelmisil was filled with longing and sorrow at the glorious display of magic and power overhead. The dragons had kept the ancient promises and had not broken the sacred bond. Though Gelmisil had released them from their vow, they remained faithful. The doom that had claimed his people had been willingly embraced by the dragons.      

Gelmisil felt a heaviness of shame grow in his chest. Of all his people, only he had accepted their surrender rather than death. He alone had sworn the oath that would banish them from the lands rather than allow them to be destroyed. As King, it had been his right and none could deny him or gainsay him. Gelmisil had accepted the anger and the disappointment of the Gul Dar Lathan because he felt he had done it for their sakes and a king needed no understanding or acceptance except his own in such matters. However now the dragons had come, their steadfast loyalty seemed to bear testimony to the whsipered accusation that only the High Lord and King had chosen dishonor and exile for the Gul Dar Lathan over honor and glory in battle.      

For the first time since Gelmisil had decreed that the people were to depart, doubt gnawed his mind. Had he truly chosen this path for love of the people? The weary, but relentless beating of his heart pounded in his temples. In truth, he had looked forward to this day for some time. He had fought and lived and ruled for countless years and he was tired. The blood of so many stained his hands. The blood of the weak and innocent. The blood of the mighty and proud. Under the rule of the Gul Dar Lathan they had broken and subdued the world. Enslaved the lesser races in their bodies and hearts and destroyed their spirits. The Gul Dar Lathan had commanded the elements of the plane and ordered the soul of nature to do their bidding. Power was ecstasy and the Guls lived a life of intoxication; always hungry, always thirsty for more. A dark raging passion that consumed everything in its path.      

Gelmisil had taken the title of King from his father and in the early years, he sated his lust by spreading his empire far and wide. His reign would be the largest and greatest of the Gul Dar Lathan. Everything would bend to his will, no desire would be denied. Yet, there had been forces that resisted him. Forces within his house, forces within the world, and most frightening of all, forces within himself. When he realized that the day of reckoning for his people was swiftly approaching, he would not, he could not carry the burden of their annialation on his hands. So he had sworn as High Lord and King that the Gul Dar Lathan would willingly depart from Calasithdia and accept exile in the other lands that drifted eternally over the timeless sea.      

As the fire in Gelmil's veins cooled to ashes, he longed for the peace that would come with exile. He once believed he had done this to save them, but now, he struggled with an inner voice that unceasingly accused him of doing it to redeem himself.      

Elmoru was swiftly carrying Baldisan away over the mountains in the south. His son may have not chosen exile, but he would race to greet it with the passion and fury of a true warrior. Gelmisil sighed bitterly. What life could a young man like Baldisan hope to find in this new land? Bred for battle and kingship, Baldisan would surely see it as a prison. To him, the passions of his people were still fresh and enticing. His heart burned with unleashed desires and untasted pleasures. Such arrogance and foolishness had brought judgment upon the Gul Dar Lathan and not even all their magic and might could protect them.      

They had sinned against the very earth, and the plane itself would rise up to reject them. It was a hopeless and ironic situation. For even if they could defeat the enemy, they would still only destroy themselves. All his reason told him he had no other choice, but perhaps it would have been better to allow them to die fighting. The young ones like Baldisan had been given a brief glimpse of the power and splendor wielded in the world by the Gul Dar Lathan, but to them this would only be a bitter memory and would lie forever out of reach.      

One by one, the remaining Gul Dar Lathan called to the dragons and mounted them. Gelmisil's daughter, Tersia, shied away from the dragons as they alighted on the sand. She cowered behind the figure of a tall woman dressed in a long flowing silver cape. Finally, the woman grabbed her and pushed her into the arms of one of the warriors. The warrior held her tightly about the waist and pulled both of them astride a golden dragon. Tersia stuffed her fist into her mouth to stifle her terrified whimper as the dragon rushed away toward the mountains after Baldisan.      

Continued ...