A blunt nosed head rose defiantly, but the body was tattered, racked with pain, the scaly hide torn but without the spillage of blood, for the Lamians had no blood. In the darkness of the cave, the mountainside cave, a voice rumbled,
  “Begone, Cathagray, for your stench taints the air as you wait longer.” Two burning yellow eyes narrowed in the gloom, but from a silvery light beyond a golden scale or two sparkled. “Begone, and do not show your Touched self here again!”
  Cathagray pulled his forelegs underneath him, and heaved himself up, muscles bunching to lift the tattered weight that was his body onto four stout legs. His eyes, redder than blood, simmered in the darkness.
  “You are the last of the Keepers of the Tarahn Gate, Khetar, how long do you think you can withstand the forces of my Master, alone? I offer you a chance to save your life. I was wise, I saw sense...”
  “You gave up your soul.” The voice was heavy with loathing. “Now you are no longer my friend of eight centuries. You are Touched, you are a Lamian. Begone or the agony you suffer now will not be the worst I will inflict!”
  “You are foolish, Khetar!” Cathagray hissed, teeth bared in a hideous snarl, or maybe a grimace of pain. “You will submit to the Master!”
  “Never!” was the Dragon’s furious reply. “May death deal to me the blow by you, but I will never become one of the Lamian, I shall not be Touched!”
  A swift paw struck out from the darkness, and ivory talons ripped flesh from bone. The Lamian howled, dragging himself back toward the mouth of the Gate Cave, where a hint of dawn showed over mountains in the far east.
  “I will return, Khetar, but when I do I will not come alone. I am your enemy now, no more warnings will you get, no more chances!”
  The angry roar echoed through the cave, and Khetar closed his eyes momentarily as his old friend turned away, spread wings of Nakara’s Darkness and soared away, vanishing into the pre-dawn.
  No, never would he surrender; he would guard the Gate of Tarahn until his death. Cathagray was speaking truth, however - the Lamian Army would come, and he would not, could not hope to, stop them. He could not guard the Gate against an army and would surely die. But he would ascend to Annwfn knowing he had died trying to save his race, and Tarahn, his underground homeland.
  Khetar, last of the Gate Keepers, spread his wide wings and bowed his head, golden scales catching the light from the shimmering Gate behind him. It glowed softly as though made of the finest silver, filled with magick.
  He looked out through the mouth of the cave, the mountains encircling the forested valley was a familiar setting now. Once, only two days ago, there had been another Gate Keeper to share the sight: his father. He died from age, leaving Khetar as Tarahns only hope. He had gone without sleep so long now.
  The soft sound of paws on the tunnel floor caught his attention, and he cocked his ears to listen better. He recognised the sound well; his Draconae had come.
  “Maoliosa, why must you torment me so?” Khetar turned to face darkness over more darkness, black scales ungleaming even with the light cast from behind, but her eyes, her beautiful green eyes, shone. “We both know that I can not leave the Gate unguarded.”
  “Khetar I mean no torture to your soul,” his mate nuzzled him gently, her small antlers clacking against his own. “But the Lamians will not attack while they fear your presence still abides.”
  “Are you asking me to forgo my duty to romp with you?” Khetar shook his head angrily. “I can not do that, Maoliosa, I must and will stay here to protect my home. You should be back in Tarahn.”
  “You will return before they realise you have even been gone.”
  “I can not leave,” Khetar insisted, but his voice faltered as she curled around him. His love for her was so strong, yet to leave the Gate unguarded was a crime no punishment to the body was fit enough. And yet, the Gate had been unguarded before, back in his youth when he and Cathagray would glide to the mountains and back.
  Before his friend became Touched. He shook his head again.
  “I can not leave,” he repeated.
  Maoliosa was disappointed that his falter had not ended in an affirmative.
  “One flight, one moment? The Lamians can not survive in daylight, and already I see the dawn sun peeking over the mountains.” She pointed one delicate taloned black paw toward the mouth of the cave.
  Khetar raised his eyes.
  “You tempt me greatly,” he rumbled. “Your cunning is remarkable.” He chuckled, and her eyes, her iridescent green eyes, widened in pretended alarm.
  “You dare mock your Draconae at the Gate of Tarahn?” she asked.
  The Dragon smiled, and nuzzled her again. Her scent caused a stirring in him, as her tail wound about his leg.
  “Perhaps...” Khetar paused, worrying whether the choice was right. “Perhaps for a short flight together. My wings and heart will surely waste away otherwise.”
  “I am joyous,” Maoliosa replied simply, but her smile was all she had needed to give. They left the Gate Cave together, slender black form aside rugged golden male, wingtips nearly touching. Heartbeats linked.
  Shadows watched them leave, for as yet the destructive sunlight had not reached the cave nor the forest below. Grinning horribly with half the flesh missing from his face - it would heal by tonight - Cathagray rose from the treetops, wings beating lazily and mottled blue-green scales covered by the shade.
  “You are a fool, Khetar,” he whispered. “A fool to think I would have left so quickly. Go my little decoy, take your golden lover far, far away. We will kill him when he returns.”
  More shadows, hundreds, rose from the forest below, each a shade of its previous self, eyes burning like fierce volcanoes, wings of darkness pushing down the air soundlessly. They followed Cathagray as he led them through to the Gate Cave, and into the welcoming gloom.
  But the dawn was fast, and as the last Lamian landed at the cave mouth a burst of sunlight struck it in the back, splitting the shadow which gave a howl of agony before becoming nothing but dust on the breeze.
  Khetar’s ears pricked as he heard the sound, and he paused, wings beating quickly to maintain his position above the mountains. The howl, it was familiar, grimly familiar to him who had so often caused it.
  “The Lamians!’ he cried. “The Gate is unprotected!” He turned on his mate, yellow eyes aflame with fury. “You have betrayed me, you have betrayed Tarahn!”
  “I had no choice,” Maoliosa whispered, denying it not.
  “You had all choice!”
  Speaking no more to his mate Khetar turned on sails of gold and dove back toward the Cave, but too late for the Lamian army had already entered the realm of Tarahn. Too late. Too late. In his mind he saw his world crushed in shadow, destroyed by darkness; Tarahn was gone. It was his fault.
  “Cathagray!” he bellowed, alighting in the Gate Cave. “Your soul shall sleep beside your Master tonight!”
  “I think not, Khetar.” The voice came from all directions at once. “I think not.”
  Pain struck him, along his neck and rump as the Lamians gouged into his flesh with their teeth and talons. Weight pressed him down against the dirt so that he could not fight back. His wings were shredded and he screamed, but claws ripped the flesh along his throat and the sound ended in a gurgle.
  All at once, the Lamians moved from him. Khetar lay there, shivering, and looked up into burning eyes of red, eyes which belonged to Cathagray. He tried to snap but could barely even open his jaws.
  “Whose soul shall sleep now, Khetar?” his old friend sneered, turning slightly away to raise a foreleg. “May death deal to me the blow by you,” he said, mimicking Khetar’s voice but with a derisive twist.
  Khetar averted his gaze, and saw, amongst the darkness, an even darker space where two eyes of green, a green slipping to brown and then to red, watched him with sorrow.
  “Maoliosa,” he croaked. “You are Touched.”
  Cathagray struck, and Khetar bellowed as the blow tore his wounded soul from his body. His head lolled on the ground, yellow eyes dimming; and a darkness, so much deeper and thicker than the one around him, the eternal darkness, reached up and claimed him.

The End