"Dominic, you're a brave man," the voice chuckled hoarsely. "I wouldn't even want to face myself on a dark night."

Dominic swallowed. "Don't worry, you haven't lost that special touch. I'm still frightened out of my wits."

"Oh, good. I would hate to cease being intimidating...it would be bad for my ego. Ready? Here I come."

Dominic turned pale as the bushes and thick trees waved restlessly, stronger than a breeze would have blown them. He stood sturdy, settling back on his heals, waiting. Slowly emerging from the trees all around him was a dark green, thick mist that settled low to the ground, wrapping itself briefly around his ankles before leaking its way slowly until it was in a smoky puddle directly in front of Dominic. He watched, eyes wide, as the mist began congealing, growing more and more dense, rising up from the ground, spreading itself into the form of a man.

This man was slightly taller than Dominic, but built thicker, in a barrel-chested, muscled way. His entire body was cloaked thickly in a dark, muddy-brown cloak that wavered in and out of existence and made Dominic's head spin if he tried to stare at it too long. A dark hood was drawn over the man's head, and blackness seemed to take the place of his face.

"Whiperba? You are not the one I fought before," Dominic whispered, his hands trembling.

The voice came from inside the hood, amused and raspy. "Oh, Dominic. Whiperba is simply one of the names I hold, and this is only one of the forms I can take. Actually, Whiperba is rather an undignified name...my least favorite, actually."

"Believe me, nothing about you surprises me anymore. Are these the same rules as last time?"

"The same," replied the voice, still sounding amused. "You hit a killing stroke on me, and I take you down the river. I hit a killing stroke on you, and you...ah..."

"Die," said Dominic firmly. "Let's get on with it, then."

The mirth was gone from his voice when Whiperba replied, "Yes. I wish you had not returned, Dominic. You are a good man serving the wrong master. I could direct you on a different path..."

"Just do your job, Whiperba. I don't need your sympathy. I do my king's bidding."

The strange being called Whiperba shrugged slightly, then stretched out a long, gloved hand. The same dark mist flowed silently from the trees and seeped from the ground, gathering itself up into Whiperba's outstretched hand, dripping from it like liquid smoke, falling on the ground, then creeping back up to his hand again. He clenched his fist and opened it, and the green smoke began to solidify, taking the form of a long, narrow sword. The sword was the same color as the mist had been, and wavered as the breeze blew over it.

Dominic stared at the blade, then shrugged and stood straight, drawing his own bright sword from it's sheath. Taking a last deep breath, he placed himself in a fighting stance.

Without any warning, Whiperba attacked. His green, smoky blade, although it looked insubstantial, felt very real to Dominic as he hurriedly blocked it. He returned the strike, slashing forward and sideways, only to find the solid block of the strange man's sword against his. After that, everything was a blur. Each was an expert swordsman, Dominic having trained for years in the king's service, and Whiperba having the powers of the supernatural on his side. They fought throughout the clearing, first one then the other having the upper hand.

Dominic slipped and fell, looking down at his feet to see a small coil of black mist seeping back into the ground. He ground his teeth - dirty cheater - and drew his dagger from his boot. Putting his sword up to block Whiperba's hard downward strike, he whipped the dagger up and plunged it into Whiperba's leg. Although the man uttered no cry of pain, green blood trickled through his clothing and he staggered, almost falling on top of Dominic. Dominic used the knife to pull himself up off the ground, then drew it quickly out of Whiperba's leg and readied himself again.

Dominic felt a small hand grasping his pant leg, and saw the dark mist once again pulling at him. He looked up at Whiperba, his eyes flashing anger. He stabbed down at the dark green hand, causing it to pull away for a moment, then whirled around quickly until he was behind Whiperba. He shoved the green man forward hard, and as Whiperba turned to face Dominic again, he tripped and fell on the small green hand. The hand quickly turned to smoke and faded back to the earth, but Dominic had the advantage he needed. Charging quickly to the fallen man, he raised his sword high and plunged it deep into the man's chest, directly where his heart should have been.

As the blade stabbed through him, the brown cloak wavered, then disappeared abruptly. The man himself, his face nothing more than darkness, began to turn once more into green mist. His body slowly leaked into the ground, drawing Dominic's sword with it. Dominic quickly yanked his weapon out of the ground and wiped it and the dagger on the grass. The cleaning was merely out of habit, for there were no remnants of blood on the blades.

"Very good, Dominic. You've been practicing, and you're smarter this time. You've earned your passage," the voice came from behind him.

Dominic sighed, his exhaustion coming over him quickly.

"Oh, good. I need to get to the Firekitten Pool by sunup."

"Left it to the last minute, didn't you? That's two weeks from here, for mortals. Well, come down to the river, then."

Another figure did not solidify, but a green haze hung in the air beside him as he walked to the water that reflected the setting moon. A small raft lay in the river, tied to an old stump. Dominic stepped on and sat carefully, trying not to rock the raft too much. The green mist enveloped the boat and him, and Dominic took a deep breath, smelling the damp earth and the crisp, minty air that surrounded him. He let his head drop back and his weary muscles relax, and let the powerful forest spirit tow him along the river to the Firekitten Pool.

***

"Dominic. We're here," the voice rasped in Dominic's ear.

He started, sitting up quickly and brushing at his ear where the cold, damp feel of the green mist still lingered. Looking around, he saw that he was under the large curtain of a weeping willow tree that stood near the water. The river had dwindled to a small, gentle stream. The raft was being held in place by some invisible hand, and Dominic got up carefully, gently grasping the willow tree for support.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Dominic. Remember, if you ever need to go anywhere within the boundaries of this forest, my power is open to all who pay the toll."

Dominic laughed dryly. "Don't worry, Whiperba. Never would be too soon to see you again. I don't particularly like paying the toll."

"Yes, the death part of things might complicate it for you. By the way, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. How are you planning on catching these Mercenaries long enough to tell them what you want of them?"

"How did you know what I was here for?" asked Dominic, startled.

"Common sense and logic. Now don't bother me with trifles and answer my question."

Dominic fished in his jacket for a moment, and brought out a small box made of ebony. "One of the king's mages made me a magical net that should keep them in long enough for me to declare my purpose. There's also a little warding spell in it for myself, as I really would like to return alive from this mission."

"Hmm...magic. It might work against them, but I wouldn't count on it. So what will you tell your king if you fail to catch them? Has he threatened you with death this time, or just a lifetime of torture?"

Dominic glared at the willow tree from which the voice was coming. Thrusting the box back into his pocket, he turned from the tree. "As far as I remember, that was my business and the king's...not yours."

"Careful, careful, friend. Don't get too indignant, or you'll betray yourself. I'll be leaving you now...good luck."

Dominic looked up as he felt the spirit's presence withdrawing, little traces of green mist leaking into the bark and leaves of the willow tree.

"Wait. Whiperba, you have been in this world longer than I would care to imagine, right?"

"Yes, Dominic. Actually, for longer than I'd care to imagine."

"Well...the Winged Mercenaries...what are they? They seem to be the only one of their kind. Are they mutated humans? Or a breed all of their own?"

There was a long silence, and in it, the leaves of the weeping willow rustled loudly, as if Whiperba was thinking. Then the voice emerged again.

"They are Shyzel. A breed of winged humans, with hollow bones and a height unlike that of humans, and the ability to imitate the song of any creature that flies. Birds, dragons, gryphons, and the like. They also possess inhuman strength. Some, like Brad, have different characteristics, like four arms. Several in the ancient past have even been known to breath fire. It is not known how they began to grow extinct, but the Winged Mercenaries are the only known group of them left in existance. There may be more, hidden away in some craggy peak, but it is unlikely."

"Shyzel," mused Dominic. "Extinct. Hmmm...thank you, Whiperba. It has not been a pleasure, but it has been educational. As always."

The voice laughed again. "Believe me, you are educational to me as well. If you ever decide to turn away from that hate-filled war-monger who is your king, you know where to find me."

"I'll keep it in mind, but it will never happen. Farewell," Dominic called to the willow tree. Its' branches swayed slightly in return, then the forest spirit's presence was gone.

Dominic turned and leapt over the small stream easily, landing in the light green, damp grass on the other side. He peered into the sky, stopping to gaze for a moment at the sunrise that lit the low clouds with pink and purple. The clouds that had blocked the stars from shining all night now started to lift, blown north by a gentle breeze. Light slowly crept over the clearing, and allowed Dominic to look over the entire gentle clearing. What he saw made him gasp and hurriedly duck for cover.

The beautiful emerald grass surrounded a large pool of glistening, pristine water. On one side of the clearing was the forest, lush and beautiful, and on the other side rose a large, craggy cliff a hundred feet high. Many ledges of stone dotted the face of the cliff, and on each ledge rested a dragon. Dominic held his breath from the small nook between the cliff on the stream and peered out carefully. Not many men got to study a dragon from up close, and those who did were usually severely wounded or dead.

The dragons were as Dominic had always imagined them, long and dangerous, with scales that flashed green and blue and purple in the rising sun. They were almost all longer than a full-grown man, although there were a few smaller dragons that rested near the pool. None of the dragons moved a muscle as the sun rose on them, and Dominic thought for a moment that perhaps the Mercenaries - Shyzel - had already been there. But in the next moment, he knew better, for as he craned his neck up towards the top of the cliff, trying to count the dragons, he saw three small figures approaching quickly and steadily. He drew in his breath harshly and pushed himself further back into his nook, making sure his entire body was out of sight.

"Nothing better than seeing the brown fade into green as we pass from desert to forest, right Val?"

A loud voice sounded through the air, coming from the sky. Dominic looked up and saw the Mercenaries standing on top of the cliff, wings still outstretched. The one with four arms - Brad - was carrying a bow and a quiver of arrows in one pair of arms and two long knives in the other pair. The leader, Erik, had a spear in one hand and a broadsword in the other. The woman of the group - Valery - was carrying a long black whip and a spiked mace.

"Brad..." A woman's voice hissed. Then in normal tones, "Oh, well. Too late now. Yes, Nothing like the fresh morning breeze after a dead night like that."

The woman's voice carried down the cliff and washed over the dragons. The dragons began to stir.

"Yes, especially because it's about to become a dead morning for these dragons, eh, Erik?"

Brad's voice again. Dominic shut his eyes and grimaced. Brad must be a believer in the 'fair fight' idea, where the foe knows you're about to attack. No stabs in the back for this fellow. The others had no choice now but to go along with his nobility. Dominic normally would have admired the fellow, but in the face of nearly a hundred dragons, nobility seemed less like a virtue and more like stupidity.

"Yes, and as they can't understand anything we say, I'd just like to point out that perhaps it would be best if we attacked now, to give ourselves at least a little advantage," Erik returned.

At his words, the dragons began to truly wake up. Movement spread up the cliff wall like a wave from top to bottom. One dragon near the top spotted the Mercenaries and emitted a hoarse screech. At this, the entire clearing erupted in a volcano of flashing wings, flying arrows and piercing dragon calls. Valery and Erik dived down the cliff face, coasting on their huge wings and slashing at dragons on their way down. Brad stayed on top of the cliff, his two top arms moving in a blur as he shot arrow after arrow into the airborn mass of shiny bodies. When his arrows were gone, he too launched himself into the air, twisting and turning, maneuvering his great wings in impressively tight circles, cutting and slashing more and more dragons to the ground.

Dominic's viewpoint was much less glorious. He only saw dragon after dragon thudding to the ground, dead by arrow, or knife wound, or sword. Two that fell looked as if their necks were broken, and Dominic shook his head, amazed at the kind of strength it would take to break the neck of a fully grown dragon.

Brad hovered in the air, watching as Erik and Valery battled two of the last dragons. The smaller baby dragons still wandered around on the pool's edge, squeaking in fright and confusion as their fellow dragons fell to the ground. Brad knew that his companions would kill these dragons as well, and his heart welled out pity for the poor things. They were only children, baby creatures like any other animal. He made sure Erik and Valery were still busy before he flew down and alighted by the pool. Quickly he grabbed one small dragon in each arm and flew carefully to the edge of the forest. He deposited them behind a large pine tree and looked up briefly into the branches.

"May the spirit of the forest watch over these creatures," he muttered briefly, then turned quickly, not noticing the green smoke that slowly enveloped the dragons and carried them away, deeper into the forest.

Dominic watched the last dragon die under Valery's mace, and snapped out of his daze as he saw Brad join them on the ground. Dominic heard them talking in low voices as he pulled the ebony box out of his pocket and opened it carefully. A small white sponge lay in it. Taking it carefully between two fingers, he wiped it across his forehead. It left a long strip of a yellow, oily substance behind it and he grimaced at the sharp, tangy smell. Then he took the white sponge and muttered a small word over it. He tossed it up into the air and it disappeared, and a moment later he saw a glittering green net spread itself over the entire clearing, safely enclosing the Shyzel.

"What was that? Can you feel that?" Valery looked up sharply as the magical net settled into place.

"It feels like some sort of capturing spell," said Brad. "Erik, can you see anything?"

Erik squinted to refocus his sight, then blinked. "Yes. It's a bright net stretched over us, holding us captive. Don't try to break it, you'll only get hurt. It's one of the best spells I've ever seen. Oh, and someone is coming."

The three stood closer together, folding their wings and gripping their weapons tighter. The net slowly parted in Erik's vision, and they all watched as through it appeared a tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and a bitter smile on his face.

"Hello, my friends. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you. I've spent so long looking for you, and you don't know how nice it is to have your wishes gratified."

The man's voice was pleasant and low, although slightly hoarse at times. "But I am forgetting my manners. Here I have you all trussed up like fish in a net -" he paused and chuckled dryly. "Or birds in a net as the case may be...but I haven't introduced myself. I'm Dominic deLucio, and the king has been looking for you. I am afraid he requires your service."