Raen's expression betrayed nothing as he watched, but he was growing increasingly displeased as more and more wyverns and their riders were disposed of. The riders were expendable - as were the wyverns, to a degree, though Raen was none too pleased about the prospect of having to procure more - but methods by which nearly an entire patrol was dispatched were enough to be potential cause for concern. While Raen was not inclined to consider a gathering of humans (and a few other specimens) to be much of a threat, he had made the mistake once and paid for it dearly. And given that considerable number of said humans appeared to possess at least rudimentary skills in magic, it would be prudent to give them due consideration.

''What, exactly, went awry last night?''

"This might hurt. I apologize in advance."

Raign's eyes flew open and she had a blurred, indistinct impression of blue sky framed by charred greenery. Burnt. That made sense. Her side could have been on fire, too. She sucked in a breath and felt the pain swell as her rib cage did, sending black swimming across her vision.

Something prodded her painfully and Raign went rigid, eyes spinning around her available field of vision until she found the source. The woman...what was her name? Something R...Raign found that her mind didn't seem capable of coming to a definite conclusion. Whoever it was seemed to be briskly bandaging her midsection. Raign noted that she should probably be very grateful.

Ryairon. That was her name. Her vision finally cleared and Raign clenched her teeth against the regular surges of pain. "My scimitar," she managed to get out, breathing heavily. "Hard to - be careful - bloody wyverns," she finished, feeling vaguely insulted. How was one supposed to combat those with merely a sword, and the cursed things practically swarming overhead? Her eyes flickered to Ryairon's face, and Raign balled her fingers into fists to steady their shaking. Fierce independent instinct made her itch to snap that she could take care of herself, and common sense gave her a cuff to the head and pointed out that she probably couldn't stand unassisted, let alone complete the operation with any kind of effectiveness. It also kindly informed her that she was being pigheaded and forcefully recommended that she accept assistance for once in her life.

Common sense was certainly blunt. Raign forced herself to breathe in and out steadily. "Are they gone?"

---

Merrin felt a little as though she should check all her limbs to make sure they were still there. Tentatively, she climbed to her feet and scanned the beach to make absolutely sure there was nothing more to worry about. Then, with a shiver despite the heat, she sheathed her rapier and went to where the others had congregated to nurse their various wounds.

More than ever, she wished intensely that her dragon would cease his uncanny silence. That had been much too close a call. Merrin indignantly denied that her knees were a little weak. Shading her eyes, she could pick out the tall dark-skinned elf doing something with a boat at the shoreline, and in scanning those gathered on the beach, found the sum total of injuries to be surprisingly low.

She decided that sitting down was probably a good idea, and did so, unclasping her cloak and feeling at her belt for water. It was lukewarm, but Merrin dumped half of it over her head and drank the rest, coming out feeling considerably better. She took a deep breath and considered the collection of canoes down the beach. Mainland next? And what after that? Surely she wouldn't be here very long -?

_________________

Jeniya took her time to recover as she heard the wails of the retreating wyverns. I'm ok, just relax, she thought as she took large breaths. Finally she mustered enough strength to straighten up and survey the aftermath of their little skirmish. Mercifully all of the dead were the enemies but her..allies suffered their own injuries. Some were burned or scratched around the chests, marks from a survived encounter with the wyverns. However one of them was lying near a rather destroyed tree, someone else was near him, treating him. She withdrew herself into a trance and to her great surprise, found extraordinarily small bits of metal floating through his body. What was this woman doing? she though, extremely distressed.

She quickly strode to him, as fast as her aching body would allow her, and knelt down next to her. She noticed a strange piece of paper stuck on his neck. She placed her hand against the man's heart and felt the slow and steady beat and the blood slowly flowing through his body. She then gently brushed her hand against his body, feeling the broken ribs. At least ten out of the twenty four were broken or fractured in various degrees of severity. She asked the lady with the black hair who was treating him, "What is that thing?" She pointed at the patch.

_________________

I was cured all right.

Merrick was no fighter. An expert at running and hiding, at being invisible nearly anywhere, yes, but not a swordsman by nature. Besides, fighting was what one did with a stable opponent who kept their feet on the ground, not some mad flying creature with a tail that thrashed like a whip.

In such a group, invisibility was not particularly hard. He’d stayed behind those who fought valiantly, kept out of range of the creatures as much as possible, slashed at them with his short sword when not, and only got knocked off of his feet once or twice as a result. Now, as he looked around at those with wounds, he felt a mild twinge of anger at himself for not trying to do something more.

<i>I’d have just got myself killed anyway,</I> he argued inwardly. <I> For the gods sake, I don’t even know what those things were.</I>

He glanced around a bit, hoping to find someone slightly more sure of themselves than the rest, but their entire group looked to be in varying stages of confusion and disorientation. Finally, he joined a young girl sitting alone, trying to recall her name. Merrin, wasn’t it?

“Well that was interesting,” he remarked. “Not as if the rest of it hasn’t been. Do you know what they were? Strange nasty-breathed things, completely foreign to me.”

_________________
<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Mikol slowly limped toward the group. The day had gone from ordinary to interesting in an extremely short period of time. And since the term "interesting" usually included "I'm going to die" at the end, he counted it lucky that he managed to get through that little hassle. It was a wrench having to tear up his cloak, but he decided that it might be better to stop his leg from going every which way and bleeding him to death than keeping his Dark Leaders uniform intact. Besides, he doubted anyone here had heard of the Dark Leaders anyway.

Glancing over at the youth striding by his side, Mikol decided some form of thanks was in order. The youth, tall and somewhat ordinary, carried himself with an air of authority. Noble, if he had to guess. Although, the assurance may have come from the daggers carried about his person. He was no amateur to fighting - Mikol could testify to that. One of those daggers had saved his life, flying through the air to wound a wyvern about ready to strike. The two had finished the rider and beast together.

"Ah....thanks," Mikol managed to say. This whole being beholden to another was very disconcerting. He hoped he could get out of it as soon as possible.

Jate winced with every stride he took. Unless he missed his guess, he had a broken rib or two. That...beast thing had hit him hard, taking his companion in the legs and himself in the chest. He seemed to be better off than many, though, he realized as he stepped into the clearing. Many were lying on the ground, with a few going around tending wounds. Of course, the fact that he could really only do hand-to-hand combat certainly helped. He wasn't able to go off and rush recklessly to try to kill himself along with killing the wyverns. It took him a moment before he realized the other was speaking.

"Oh..well, I'm sure you'd have done the same," Jate replied with a shrug. "And at the moment, I think we ought to see if we can do anything to help the others instead of gawking here like a couple of goats." With that, he set off to the nearest body, ripped apart some cloths, and tried bandaging the person's arm.

Gawking like goats? What a strange person. Yet Mikol couldn't deny the soundness of his instructions, so moved to help another person. He clenched his teeth and grimaced as he tore another strip off his cloak.

_________________
going on a journey through my old claims

Denaris waved a hand over the scrying bowl, and the image within swirled away. Another magical gesture dismissed the scrying bowl entirely and covered the bare surface with a tablecloth of purple velvet. He produced two wineglasses from the folds of his sleeves and filled them both with crimson liquid from a crystalline decanter. He raised his in toast, then took a sip, observing Raen’s distorted reflection through the side of the glass.

How much did Raen know? The elf had only arrived from his own world a year ago, give or take. Despite their recent collaboration, Denaris had never found reason to explicate the mission given to him by the High Vassal. The spell’s nature was a meticulously guarded secret. All Lord Raen was authorized to know was that this mission might be elvenkind’s last hope of reclaiming the ancient homeland. Even so, authorizations are meant to be tossed around. Where else might a bored potentate find his fun?

The mage leaned back and swirled the last drops of wine around the bottom of his glass. How to begin? “I’m certain you’ve noticed that our… ah… most wonderful New Realm is woefully lacking in resources. Magic in particular. Our most esteemed High Vassal has granted me the privilege of remedying that inconvenience. It’s quite an intricate affair, really. Bear with me, please.” He sensed the impending doom of a lengthy, amiable chat, so he conjured an overstuffed armchair for himself and another for Raen. A pity he had to return them later. No doubt some hapless human lord in his study somewhere was wondering where his armchairs and tablecloth had wandered off to.

He seated himself and tapped his chin. “Do you recall the auspicious day you stumbled upon this world? Kytana, isn’t it? Lovely places spawn lovely people. Anyhow, the nature of your grand arrival inspired me. If your world - this Kytana – has existed parallel to ours all this time, why not other worlds as well? I brought this notion to our most esteemed High Vassal, who, realizing the impeccable logic behind my thinking, immediately urged me to delve deeper. Well, I did. Guess what I found?” Balancing the wineglass on his knee, he leaned forward. “Other worlds, my dear Raen. Thousands of them. Millions of them. Far more than you can imagine, and that is no insult to your brain capacity.” He leaned back, pondering his own words, before he realized that Lord Raen was still staring at him, waiting for him to finish his explanation. “Magic is a universal tongue, my lord. After a few experimentations, I soon discovered that the magic upon these other worlds can be channeled no differently than the magic on this world can. Imagine my delight.”

He flashed a wry smirk and drained his wineglass. The drink scalded his throat, and he slammed his glass onto the table with more force than strictly necessary. “These humans are parasites. They blunder into our forests like maggots, never satisfied, ever multiplying. The magic that weaves itself into this earth and air is ours. It has been ours since the dawn of time. The humans here – their very presence – sucks the land dry, until all that remains is dust and the cold stone that they use to build their fortresses. We mages of Erys’lite were once the greatest of our kind. And now? Look at us – we seal ourselves in our little mountain caves like rats. We have lost everything.”

Almost everything, he amended silently. Almost. And that’s why I’m here.

_________________

"Kytana is the country of men," Raen automatically corrected, barely-concealed disgust evident in his tone. "It is no more my world than the Supremacy is yours. You needn't lecture me on the damaging effects of human 'civilization.' Be grateful that your elves have, at least, the sense to refrain from marrying into the very culture which threatens to destroy them."

Raen paused to take an obligatory sip from his glass - not because he especially enjoyed this type of wine (though it was tolerable enough), but because he considered it poor manners to ignore a proffered drink. "So you attempted to siphon magic from these worlds, and instead managed to summon actual people from said worlds, many of whom are apparently proficient in magic themselves," he concluded, taking another placid sip and arching an eyebrow at the elf across from him. "And I suppose the High Vassal has not yet been informed of this...occurrence?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kjan knelt to retrieve his dagger from the wing of one of the dead creatures. The pain radiating from his left shoulder left the arm essentially useless for the present, but he wasn't nearly as badly off as some that he could see. This was mostly due to the fact that as soon as he had run out of throwable items (e.g. - daggers and rocks), Kjan had had the prudence to fall back and fight only when attacked. Skilled though he was with a blade, it would have been suicide to attack one of those things with steel alone. The barely-conscious young woman whom he had seen being treated on his way to the beach had proved just that.

Besides, there were others present who were clearly better equipped to deal with such foes. Like the man who had been shooting beams of magical fire from his staff and had frozen one of the beasts in mid-air. Or the man who has apparently also a hawk and an eagle and a very large cat. Or the girl who had actually become fire and flown into the air to face the scaled things head-on. The last two, in particular, struck Kjan as somewhat odd, but he could question the abilities that had likely just saved all of their lives some other time. The fact remained, they had been better suited to fighting in this instance than he had. And while Kjan was no coward, he knew how to step back and let someone else handle matters for once.

Wiping the dagger clean on the grass, Kjan slid it back into its customary place and straightened to have a better look around. A majority of those present appeared to be comparatively fine - which was to say, they were capable of moving without too much difficulty - but a few others were quite seriously injured. Since those among them who were healers of any skill were likely already occupied with treating those critical few, Kjan set about treating his own minor (albeit profusely bleeding) wound.

Sitting down in the sand, he first tore a strip from the hem of his shirt to serve as a crude sort of bandage. So far, so good. Then, as he twisted to get a better look at the laceration, he encountered a minor problem in the form of intense pain in the shoulder which he was attempting to examine. Right. Wrenching the shoulder further, not a good idea. No matter, he'd just...no, that wasn't going to work either. Making an exasperated noise, he grudgingly gave up the endeavour and began to cast about for someone who looked halfway competent at patching up injuries.

Merrin, looking up, found herself automatically a little incredulous that this man had no idea even what their attackers had been. "They're wyverns," she said, perplexed. "Don't you know - dragons?"

From his expression, she gathered not. The thought was almost incomprehensible. "I'm a dragonrider," she explained, trying to imagine her world without her ever-present - well, except now, she thought anxiously - reptilian counterpart, and failing. "You...don't have them, where you come from?"

This evidence that all was not as it should be further knotted her stomach in worry for Wyvern. She cast Merrick a hopeful look. "I...suppose there isn't much point in asking, then, if you've seen a smaller silver one, anywhere?"

_________________

The first sentence that Raign uttered upon waking was a demand for her scimitar. Ryairon couldn’t hide a grin as she reached over to pick it up from where its wielder had dropped it just beyond her reach. She held it up and eyed the curved blade for a while before handing it back.

“Sturdy weapon,” she commented, resuming her work on the bandage. She wrapped it around Raign’s midsection and tied it at her opposite waist, then tested it around the edges to make sure it wasn’t too tight. A spot of red had already blossomed on the white cloth. She shook her head. “The wyverns are gone, yes. You fought them well, but those wounds are deep. You need a healer.” So did most of them, for that matter, she concluded upon scanning the conditions of the rest of her companions. She raised her voice. “Is anyone here a healer?”

_________________

Jeniya looked up when she heard the word "healer" and explained, "Well, I was the physician in my village in my world and I know a fair amount of the anatomy and physiology of humans and race like them. So, I guess I can be of some use here?" She finished with a sense of vagueness. New world meant new rules in nature. While she was absolutely positive that the basic biological theories that were discovered in her world still applied here, she wasn't too sure if this world or anyone else had heard of them.

_________________

I was cured all right.

"If I had fought them well," began Raign with difficulty, "a healer would not be required." She managed to slide her scimitar into its sheath, finding a rhythm of breathing past the regular throbs of pain in her side. An attempt at standing lasted roughly three seconds before she dropped, perspiring with the effort. If you hadn't been idiot enough to try and combat a monster with one sword, Raignheidra Terhin -!

She let her head fall back against the solid support of the tree behind her, knowing she needed a healer as Ryairon had said, and seething about it. It was with a certain amount of resignation that she cast a glance at the woman who volunteered. "Some assistance is markedly better than none, I think," she responded in regard to the hesitant offer of help, unsuccessfully trying to smother the irritation in her voice. This was patently ridiculous. Raign knew better than to get herself injured among strangers while lacking any of the necessary resources to see to fixing it herself; oceans, she'd commanded naval battles for the better part of the last six years, she should know.

Realizing the lack of grace with which she was handling the situation, Raign swallowed her pique and added, more subdued, "I would be very grateful if you would do whatever you can."

_________________

The woman - who had been acting as if she were in charge - had suddenly appeared between Alanna and the beast, flinging her sword at its rider, then staggered back into the trees, looking as if she were on her last legs.

"Thanks," she'd muttered, half-sincerely and half-sarcastically, pulling herself into a fighting stance. Thanks for getting rid of the controller; no thanks for leaving her with this maddened monster. She was just wondering where exactly in all the armored scales she could plunge her sword for maximum effect, when the thing jerked its neck up, then leapt ponderously into the sky. The downdraft from its wings knocked her to her feet, and when she'd regained her balance, it had turned and was making for the horizon.

Odd.

But she wasn't arguing.

Alanna turned to find a black-haired woman kneeling by the man's - the argumentative one's - side, poking at the patch she'd stuck on his neck.

"It's a MedPatch," the engineer answered shortly, not seeing any reason to explain nanotechnology. These people believed in magic, and from all accounts, were still pre-industrial. She didn't need to explain further - the woman had already shifted her attention elsewhere.

The dragon-beasts were gone. Which was good news. Alanna cleaned the scimitar off on the grass, then laid it by the man's side for him - and was driven to her knees once more, completely drained of strength. A fresh tide of blood swept down her lacerated, half-scabbed back, and grey started closing in at the edges of her vision.

What on earth? She scrabbled for the sword, intending to use it as an aid to stand - but stopped when she touched it and felt the weakness ebb. She let go, and felt the warm blood washing down her back again.

So this enchanted sword gave her strength. Somehow. Too bad it wouldn't heal her wounds. She had more of the patches, but the gashes needed to be cleaned of all the dirt and threads that had probably gotten lodged in there. Bad.

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Jeniya noticed the bitter tone that the woman took when she spoke to her. She was used to this; many of her patients preferred seeking the consult of priests or sages, none of which knew anything about medicine. Distantly, she heard the girl she had inquired after say "MedPatch" and resolved to ask some more questions later. She examined the woman that had asked for medical assistance. There were several large gashes over her chest, some of them still bleeding profusely. Quickly she explained what she was going to do.

"Using my magic, I will examine your blood to gain an accurate image of your medical picture. Many diseases that we suffer are caused by tiny organisms that live and infect our blood. In addition, I will also examine the blood that is flowing through your body and where it is going. One common disease found in war is gangrene, caused by the lack of blood in a tissue, causing it to die. I will be able to stop this if I stop the blood from flowing. Once I determine your medical condition, I will be able to treat you. One form of treatment is stimulating your blood to begin healing your damaged tissues and clot openings in blood vessels."

Jeniya gave her a few minutes to digest the information she was given before she walked forward and slowly moved her hand downward over her patient's chest. Like she had thought, the blood was rapidly moving out of her body through the slashes that were inflicted on her. She concentrated on those wounds a bit further and discovered a small colony of organisms growing her body. Gently she stimulated the blood to attack them, hopefully killing the colony before they spread too fast. However just in case, she would need some of the herbs that she had used in her world to kill the microbes. Next she concentrated on the damaged blood vessels. She nudged the blood to clot near the wounds, stopping the blood from flowing from the wounds. As she worked, her energy was slowly being depleted and her shoulder continued to ache but she didn't utter a word. She was a doctor. She had to put her patients' welfare before her own. At least, that's what she told herself as she finished clotting the last wound.

_________________

I was cured all right.

Kith cradled his hurt arm. The pain was starting to spread to his chest, but as far as he could tell, nothing was broken. Finding the shade of a nearby tree, he carefully sat down. The sun here was not nearly as hot were he came from, the air was so damp. Sweat beaded up on his skin, refusing to evaporate in the water laden air. Kith felt like he was trying to breath in mud. He shifted his attention, hoping to get his mind off the hot, humid air. To his right a woman examined her patient, but her talk was forein. He could understand what she said, but not what she ment. typical learned doctor He thought to himself

Ash counted his arrows as he cleaned then and put them back into his quiver- eight that he had been able to retrieve. The other four were probably still stuck in those creatures’ hides. It seemed to be a pretty fair trade for his life. After he had run out of arrows during the fight, Ash had stepped back to let some of the others take care of offense, while he concerned himself with his own defense. One beast had given him a nasty cut on his right arm. Other than that, Ash had escaped the fight relatively unharmed, aside from a few bruises.

Weapons taken care of, Ash turned his attention to the cut. He would need to clean it out soon, but the most important thing was to stop the bleeding. He cut a strip of cloth from his cloak and wrapped it around his arm a couple of times, then ran into problems. While he was able to tie a clumsy knot with his left hand, the cut was too high and hurt too much for him tighten the bandage with either his teeth or his right hand. After another try or two, he gave up and glanced around the beach. Most of the people seemed to be pretty busy with other injuries, but it looked like Kjan was having some trouble with his own bandage.

Walking over the man, Ash took his strip of cloth and examined the wound. “I’ll trade you.” he said, indicating his own loose bandage. Wrapping up Kjan’s wound, he asked, “What do you think those things were?”

"Just like - old times," Kjan commented wryly, pausing halfway through to grimace as Ash tied off the bandage with more force than was strictly necessary. Flexing the shoulder experimentally, he grabbed the cloth from Ash and began working on the man's arm. "I'm not quite sure," he said in response to Ash's query. "Looked like some sort of dragon, or at least what I've always heard dragons described as. Never heard of a dragon letting someone ride it, though." Kjan wound the cloth around once more and knotted it firmly. Shrugging as much as his shoulder would allow, he turned and headed down the beach toward where several others had congregated.

"Are those boats for us, do you think?" he asked by way of greeting, indicating the distant canoes by which several of the villagers were still standing. "Or would that be too easy?"