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The journey back north was a swift one, and although there were thousands of mouths to feed, the army of wyverns, and the dragons, managed to eat their fill. One prey animal was more than enough to feed at least ten Wyverns, as they didn’t eat much. Many of them carried their own rations in tiny bags that were strapped across their backs. Alaron had a feeling the strain they would no doubt put upon the chefs within Liz’okar wouldn’t be too much for them to handle.

On the third day of travel, the army of flying reptiles approached the mountains of Drak’on, which protected the rear side of Drak’ir. It was then that Alaron realized why his people had never crossed them before. Each dragon in his party was blown forcibly back by the gale-force winds that blew through the mountains. The wyverns however, had an easier time of it. At first, they simply folded their wings as far closed as they could, as they hit the wind, they angled up and over it, and were blown eastward. Seeing this, Alaron quickly copied their style of flight, and jumped back into the winds. Golganor and Nozaron followed him, leaving Zaro, Zoran and Larion to watch in awe. The three dragons were tossed by the wind, and nearly lost control, however they did manage to follow the path the wyverns had taken. The other three dragons followed their friends, and kept to the same path. Eventually, they came out above and behind the city of Drak’ir, and flew in a circular pattern as they waited for any stragglers. Once Alaron’s party was through, he led the army up in a twisting spiral, and down towards the city he had grown up in.

King Tyran Blazeclaw stood on the cliff before the Golden Scale Gates, and gazed out at his city. He gave the friendly nod to his subjects as they passed him, and smiled, relaxing for the first time in weeks. The local magicians had been predicting a great catastrophe would befall Drak’ir on this day, and although many citizens doubted, and even welcomed whatever danger was prophesized to come, the guard was still on high alert. It was then, as the sun was beginning to set, that a great roar echoed throughout the valley-city. One thing to know about draconic roars is that they contain many words in varying, minute levels of sound that each dragon can easily decipher. However, since they were often quite loud, they were only ever used in battle, or personal challenges, which were quite common. This roar however, had a peculiar message, and was one King Tyran had heard before. It belonged to his son, Alaron, but the contents of the roar left him with a feeling of dread. What Alaron had announced was this: “I have returned home with my scouting party intact. We have brought guests. Prepare the grand hall.” Guards flocked to Tyran as the roared echoed throughout the city. Many dragons retreated into their caves, and hid their young ones. Those who were ready to lend a claw joined in alongside the guards and looked to their king to lead them. Tyran, who had come to trust Alaron’s judgment since he had matured, told them to take positions in the grand hall. To the militia citizens, he ordered them to calm the people. The last thing they needed was a riot. Turning to enter the grand hall, Tyran realized that the roar had come from above and behind the city. He picked up his thundering pace as he went to get the queen.

The Wyverns looked unsettled as the roar left Alaron’s throat. The group was thirty minutes from the capital city, but Alaron was sure he had been heard. After explaining to the wyverns what exactly he had said, many panicked. Their general, one Dar’al Wingclaw, confronted the prince saying, “You fool! Given our position away you have! They will be ready for us now, and think us not-friends!” “Calm yourself general,” Alaron responded in a diplomatic tone that mirrored his father’s so well, his companions blinked in mild shock, “I told them you were guests. My people do not attack those who are given that label, and although there are many of you, you will not be harmed. However, if you want a hot meal tonight, I suggest you let me do the talking.” The general nodded uneasily and returned to formation. Finally, Alaron broke through the headwind that had been slowing them, and descended through the clouds. Drak’ir lay before him, and he realized just how much he had missed his home. He led the army across the top of the valley, around and under the Twin Horns, where he had dueled Ky’Ran, and straight back the way they had come, towards the grand hall. Once all were seated within the hall, which was surprisingly empty, Alaron led Dar’al and Zaro to the council chambers.

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